#Viceverse

[sincericida]

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHI’m screaming so much here!

And I missed your writing so much! And here you come, and back in style, and making my legs fail with everything I’ve read!

My body was totally tense, and on that table (for you who are reading what I say right now, understand it as you want 👀). I don’t know what to think now, I’m just able to feel. Sorry.

love on the brain: sugar & vice, vol 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!OC]

summary: You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you? AKA The night Peter and Honey reunited—Four. Months. Later. [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] 

words: 11.8k (omfg)

NSFW/MINORS DNI - ABANDON ALL CHASTITY, YE WHO ENTER HERE (detailed warnings below)

extended warnings (spoilers): p^rn with plot, detailed smut, really just... filthy and deranged. slightly dubcon parts (although consent is clearly confirmed), no Y/N...ever, arguing, anger, jealousy, physical violence (slapping, scratching, throwing objects), almost hate sex, fem!reader with a vagina and breasts and wears a dress, oral (f! receiving), P in V, rough!dom Peter, sub!reader, possessive!peter, mirrors, titty!worship, shame and slight degradation, use of emojis, f! being restrained, discussion of masturbation, slight breeding kink, non-consensual voyeurism, moderate BDSM kink, “punishment” play (spanking, edging) bratty reader, peter parker being a dunce around women, mob!au, furniture harmed in the making of this

names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl

A/N: This is a one-shot standalone story that takes place immediately after the Epilogue of Vol 1. And serves as the official beginning of Vol. 2. If you haven’t read Vol.1, you really should. The main OC is AFAB and goes by the name “Honey.” You’ll need to read Vol. 1 to know why.  I try to be loose with my descriptions for people who prefer a Reader-Insert. But I’m not perfect. In this canon, Honey has a Latina heritage (as do I). Take that as you will. Thanks to @moonyslove78 and @blooming-violets for cheering me on through this very long hiatus. 

This is 18+ AF. And if you think the term ‘AF’ shows how old and out of touch you are, then you’re probably not old enough to read this.

This version of TASM Peter Parker is not canon. The relationships here are not healthy and the characters need therapy. Don’t date a mob boss IRL.

#1 - Love on the Brain

>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜

Peter arched a brow as he peeked down at the text message.

>>> ⋯ >>> your trip to pound town? 🍆🍑 

He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.

Real mature, Felicia. 

He almost tapped out a haughty reply but stopped. Corners of his mouth turned down, he found himself unable to respond.

“So many choices. I just don’t know what I want.”

An understatement.

The girl of his dreams sat across from him in the quaint East Harlem Cuban restaurant. They were crammed together at a bistro table near the kitchen. The enormous menu took up the entire surface, and she had spent the last 25 minutes reading the items aloud. 

It was nearly 11 p.m., and they had yet to pick an appetizer. 

The woman he’d called ‘his Honey’ sweetly sighed with a shrug. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t make up my mind.” 

Her voice had a singsong tune to it, purposefully careless. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Peter was starving.

“Maybe I’m just not feeling Cuban food tonight,” she shrugged, nonchalant.

Peter swallowed hard. Tried to rid his expression of any hint of impatience or irritation. 

“Oh,” he remarked delicately, thinking of all the different dinner reservations he’d made for tonight. It didn’t matter what magazine talked it up, didn’t matter how many “tire awards” it had won. 

Honey was unimpressed. 

“M’surprised,” he said, as emotionlessly as possible. “Thought you had your heart set on this place.”

The place was one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that had less than 10 tables, which made takeout the most popular choice. 

On this night however—a Tuesday— the restaurant was nearly empty, except for the overdressed couple and the loathsome kitchen staff, who didn’t expect to be subject to “este cabrón” and his picky girlfriend strolling in 30 minutes before closing. 

While Peter could feel the heat of their ire over the oven, Honey avoided it. She explained to the manager that Peter was “un ricacho que tiene demasiado dinero.” And with that, they were seated.

When Peter approached her earlier that afternoon in the park, he’d expected a much worse welcome. He nearly died of a panic attack when he spotted her on the park bench. It had been four long months since he’d attempted to communicate with her, and he half-expected her to throw her iced coffee in his face. 

Actually, he had no idea what to expect from her. Terrifyingly.

Peter had lamented to Felicia— “There’s no card that says, ‘Sorry, I ghosted you for a few months while attempting to shake the heat off my back.’ Which flowers say, ‘I apologize that the last conversation we had, I called you a whore in front of a room full of cops’?”

The true challenge came when Peter actually looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect that one look would render him useless. 

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ethereal. Glowing. The human equivalent of a bouquet of sunflowers, with happy round cheeks and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was the color of rainbows, and summer, and sunshine. She was the cherries of her red lip stain and the golden rays of her yellow linen sundress.

God, that dress. 

Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 

His carefully rehearsed speech went out the window when he saw her in that dress: a cotton ruched-waist, tea-length gown in a yellow gingham pattern. It featured a sweetheart neckline that cradled her breasts perfectly between the halter tie-back straps. 

He had no idea where that dress came from, but it was the most perfect piece of fabric ever to grace a woman’s body. He would buy her twelve more of them, no matter the cost. He’d buy every last one.

He’d give her the sun, the ocean, Hawai’i, and all the stars in the sky— if only she’d forgive him. He was ready to throw himself on a bed of hot coals as long as it meant that she would take him back. If she would come back home.

Truthfully, he needed her to come home.

Not to get ahead of himself, he started by taking her to dinner. 

That was Felicia’s advice—women love dinner. solves everything. the fancier, the better, with lots of red meat—u know how they say food is the way to a man’s heart? dinner is the way to the ovaries. works every time.

Actually, Felicia gave Peter lots of advice. For once, he was more than grateful to accept it. 

>>> make her feel like you can’t take your eyes off her. but don’t stare. like a creeper  >>> be a gentleman, but not a pushover. you wanna be the good guy. soft YA novel boyfriend type

Followed quickly by—

>>> but not too soft! don’t be a little bitch. if she plays hard to get, you play offense.  >>> and defense.

Peter had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew when it was wise to trust the advice of more intelligent creatures than men.

Five restaurants later...

“I thought going to dinner was your idea?” Honey asked with pursed lips.

“It was; it was my idea,” he nervously replied. “Six hours ago—it was my idea.”

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Hmm. Six hours. Long time to wait.” Her eyes fell down to the menu again. Her lack-of-sympathy said everything.

Peter’s pocket buzzed again, and he glanced down at the incoming text message from Felicia.

>>> ...???? 

He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.

<<< Not great.

“Am I interrupting something?” Honey asked with a clipped tone.

Peter jumped, pocketing his phone immediately. “No, just... just something... silly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout we get a few plates in, yeah? I’m gonna just order some stuff—”

“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, his stomach twisting. “One of everything.”

“That’s wasteful,” Honey said, judgment sharpening her gaze. “Food waste is bad enough as it is in this city.”

“Well, at this point,” he snapped with an exasperated sigh, “I might be able to eat two of everything.” The words floated away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek, wishing they would come back. Hesitantly, he made eye contact with Honey.

She peered at him disgustedly from over the top of her menu. She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other, and dropped the leather-bound book closed. 

“Don’t let me slow you down,” Honey said icily. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His pocket buzzed again. 

>>> the fuck? what do you mean?  >>> she was in love with you b4... how hard can it be to take her on a date?  >>> christ. did you fuck this up, parker?

He shoved the phone back in his jacket, nearly punching through the silk fabric. 

“If I’m wasting your time, tell me,” Honey sharply retorted. She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest. He had to force himself to look away from the way it plumped her breasts together. “I’d hate to keep you from something important.”

Felicia was right. He was fucking this up. Before he could open his mouth—

“Excuse me, señorita,” a masculine, smoky voice crooned at them. 

Peter and Honey glanced up to see a chiseled man in his 30s approach the table with a hurricane glass of ice. He was a specimen of Latin American art—a bronzed statue, with carved muscles that bulged out of his floral shirt. Deep brown eyes—no, hazel eyes— fixed on Honey as he reached across the table with rolled-back sleeves. The corded muscles in his arm, toned by long hours of hard labor, flexed gracefully as he gently set a cocktail in front of her. 

A frosted, colorless liquid speckled with crushed mint leaves filled the glass. Honey blinked with delighted surprise.

“Our compliments,” the young, disgustingly attractive waiter explained with a sultry smile and a thick accent. “In case you found yourself thirsty while browsing the menu.” 

A blush colored her skin as she glanced up at their handsome waiter. The sparkle in her smile was as blinding as ever, and she graciously looked back between the glass and the server.  The waiter— no way in hell this fuckin’ guy is a waiter— beamed back at her, enamored. 

“Oh, wow!” she gasped, reaching for the glass with dainty fingers. “Is this a mojito? That’s my favorite! How did you know?”

The waiter graciously chuckled. “Lucky guess. You look like a woman of refined taste.”

Peter felt his blood pressure rising.

Honey didn’t even look at her date, as if he was suddenly invisible. “Thank you,” she grinned, self-satisfied. “I mean, I do know my way around a Bacardi bottle.” The waiter chuckled, maybe too hard, at her silly joke.

“We want you to enjoy your evening with us,” the waiter added politely, sparing Peter a glance but keeping all his attention on Honey. “We are honored to have you as our guest.” 

The waiter spoke gentlemanly as he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Please, take as much time as you need. No need to feel rushed. It is my pleasure to serve you.” 

Peter could feel a twitch behind his eye. Could have been the fire shooting out of his eyes. Fuck this prick, probably another Broadway reject or somethin’, couldn’t buy himself a decent shirt—His mind churned along with his anger.

Oblivious, Honey beamed up at him with a golden smile. “Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied, endearingly sweet. “You are too kind, um... I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 

“Pedro.”

Honey’s brows shot to her hairline. “Pedro?” she repeated, absolutely delighted. She glanced over at Peter. “Isn’t that something?”

The mob boss’ lip curled mirthlessly. “Oh, it’s somethin,’ alright.” 

Peter continued to burn his stare—fuck his stupid accent— into the side of the aloof waiter’s head. He wondered if Pedro’s handsome, chiseled jawline was sharp enough to cut through a noose.

Buzz..

>>> you’re keepin’ your cool, right?  >>> remember what i said.  >>> anything she wants. no questions asked! >>> don’t get all crazy possessive either

The joyful sound of her laughter ripped his attention away from his phone and back towards his charmed date. 

“Pedro,” she sweetly preened. “Can you give us a recommendation?” She briefly flashed her eyes at Peter before looking back at her new friend. “My date’s clearly distracted. He has no idea what I like.” 

Oh? Peter raised a brow at that. And lost his appetite.

Peter followed Honey down the hallway to his hotel suite while storm clouds swirled in his gut. Lighting crackled with each footfall. Tension clogged the atmosphere, and they shuffled in a silent fog to the door.

Despite Felicia’s advice about controlling his inner beasts, Peter’s hackles were raised, and his stomach growled. Now, he was hungry for more than just food. And simultaneously, he’d never felt so powerless. 

Peter noted how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face suggested she was deep in thought. He wondered if she was just as tightly wound as he was. Wondered if she could break his heart with just a look.

He was flailing. Pathetic.

Peter’s fist clenched his keycard tight. He had to be careful not to snap the card in half between his fingers. Was it from excitement or terror? Desire or rage? 

He had to focus, to make this work. He had nothing if he didn’t have her. 

Rigidly, Peter pushed the door open and stood to the side of the frame to let her enter. 

She paused briefly, lips tight, as she gazed into the rotunda entryway of the lavish suite. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and he hadn’t had the chance to explain the location. 

Letting out a steady breath, she strode through the threshold and stopped. Her body blocked the doorway. She turned to look up at Peter, defiant eyes flashing.

“This is as far as you go.” 

Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.

Her tone was curt. Icy. He recognized that sound. It was the tone of voice she used when she wanted to draw blood, and it never failed to inflict pain. Her voice. Her eyes. Even her tongue was razor-sharp.

Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 

Honey narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.” 

He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 

“What did you think was going to happen tonight, Peter?” The ire of Honey’s question sliced through him. “Did you think you were gonna shave your face, take me to a fancy dinner, and then I’d just... open my legs for you?”

A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 

Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”

“‘I’ll wait for forever, Honey,’ she parroted his earlier admission mockingly. “Is that all you have to say to me? You left me! For four months!”

Peter nodded his head, not sure exactly why or when he began. “I know, I know...”

“You know!?”

The walls of etiquette and politeness between them began to crack.

“How many times I gotta tell ya? I was tryin’ to protect ya, Honey—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It stung like a snake bite. Rage filled her eyes, disdain bubbling out of her mouth. She had only just begun. 

“You buy me all this expensive bullshit!” she scolded. “And you dress up in your ridiculous designer suits and parade me to all these fucking pretentious places! Like I’m some kind of accessory! Like you own the whole fucking city and everyone in it!”

He replied with a string of noises. Or, at least, he thought so.

“Big bad mob boss—all that power—and yet, you couldn’t just talk to me? You had me wait around for you like a stray dog! You can just come and go as you please, but you—you expect me to follow you around on a leash?”

“Honey, please. Let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Peter!” her voice echoed through the rotunda and down the hall of the hotel. “I don’t want to hear a single one of your lame excuses! I don’t want a fancy dinner, or a new Porsche, or a mansion, or whatever else makes your dick hard!”

Peter blinked rapidly, stunned. His body responded as if she had just kicked him in the place she referenced, “Jus’lemme—”

“And I sure as hell don’t want another apology!” she asserted definitively. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!” 

Peter’s jaw hung open, tongue dead in his mouth. The woman who barely stood at his collarbone stared down at him, making him feel inches tall. 

“Now, I’m going to bed. Exactly as I have been for the last four months.” Her voice thundered, “Alone!”

With that, the door slammed in his face, rattling inches from his nose. The echo reverberated through the empty hallway and inside his chest, emphasizing the deep crack that formed.

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The shock subsided slowly, and his heart sank. The ache soon sizzled into a burn, boiling his blood. At the same time, the sting of her rejection was raw. Unbearable.

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

He should break down the fucking door. Throw her over his shoulder and tie her up. Gag her—Anything to get her to listen.

Haplessly, Peter’s eyes fell on his expensive shoes—his Valentinos. Or maybe these were the Tom Ford’s? He had no clue. Just more bullshit.

Fuck—He was going to cry. Maybe he should let himself just do it. Lean into it. Drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he squeezed his eyes closed. 

He was a little bitch.

Peter pictured a door closing on a rocket or an airplane. Whatever it was, it was leaving him behind. He was falling back to Earth, having placed too much faith in miracles. This was his punishment for flying that close to the sun—

The door swung open. 

Two hands grabbed Peter’s jacket, pulling him forward off his heels. It was a surprisingly fluid motion; his heartbreak had reduced the mass of his bones to nothing. 

Honey’s nails practically pierced his lapels. She yanked him through the doorway into the suite, slamming the door behind him, and slamming him into the door right after.

Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, she was on him like a viper.

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. Honey was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him. 

His skin flushed from the sudden unbearable heat. Before he could react, her lithe fingers started tugging the edges of his jacket. Clumsily, she tried pushing it back over his broad shoulders. As soon as he knew of her intent, he eagerly obliged, shrugging the garment off and to the floor. 

Her hands went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving trails on his skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss.

Every time her teeth tore at his lips, he responded with a groan into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backward a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the chasm they created. Like the barometric pressure plunging before a storm, an eerie calm settled over them. 

Honey blinked at him, jaw agape and her palm throbbing. 

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess—hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin.

His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dabbed his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquisite lines of his face were stained pastel pink, flushed by arousal or anger. His eyes were black as night, so it could have been either one.

She looked just as wrecked. Dress askew, her hairstyle half-unraveled. Goosebumps dotted her skin. She looked shocked at the violence she was capable of, surprised and possibly guilty at her own strength. As the seconds passed, the feelings faded.

Peter watched her, pupils dilating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, studying her threatening look until his own expression began to match.

Physically, his senses were haywire. Danger, excitement, and a sick sort of pleasure rattled his bones and labored his breathing. The hairs on his skin stood on end. Alarms blared in his head. The sound of his own blood was almost deafening to him, thumping like a kick drum. 

Peter could hear her heart, too. Fast. Like a rabbit. He was a wolf in pursuit. 

Maybe the pain of her slap triggered him, a preemptive action against further attack.

She got one in, Peter mused mockingly. He knew she was no match. Not as Peter’s night vision sharpened. Not while he could taste the salt from her perspiration on his tongue. Most intoxicating of all, Peter could smell her desire. Like a rose bursting open.

In another blink, they switched positions. Peter snatched her by her shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, pinning her there. She went feral—hissing and raging at her entrapment.

Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.

“Get off of me!” Honey spat.

“Shut up,” he ordered. Quiet and fierce.

Fingers gripping her forearms tight, he attacked her lips, teeth colliding. The ferocity stunned her. For a moment, it seemed like she finally submitted to him before she wriggled her mouth free.

“Mmffucker—Let me go!”

His body might as well have been a brick wall. His face was stonelike, eyes just as cold. 

“No.” 

Honey’s brow scrunched up like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’ll scream!” she countered.

Peter smirked, the hickory in his eyes igniting. “Baby. You have no idea.”

Peter’s guarantee sent a shiver down Honey’s spine. He saw the gears turning in her mind as she carefully considered pushing him further. 

He hoped she would. 

His fingers tightened around her forearms. He crucified her under his gaze. And yet, despite the danger anyone else would have felt... A glimmer of curiosity flickered in her eyes.

It set his mind reeling. A tiny sign of weakness to temptation made Peter’s stomach trapeze. He zeroed in on it, licking his chops. 

Not to make it easy, Honey brought her knee up, attempting to make contact with his groin. There was nearly a foot of difference between their heights, and she paid it no mind.

Brave girl. 

Peter admired her tenacity. She had balls. Smart, too, he pleasantly recognized. Honey went for the weak spot first. Good call. 

Pointless, though. 

Nothing below Peter’s belt was weak when she was around.

Unfairly, Peter picked up on her attack before her leg was even bent. He snatched her above the knee, lifting her toes off the ground and prying her thighs open. 

He pictured the bruises on her skin that his fingertips would leave behind. Just the thought made him rock hard. 

A year ago, Peter would have been ashamed. He would have shied away from her, for fear of repulsing her, and took out his frustration by himself in the shower. 

Grinding his teeth at those memories, he pressed Honey’s hips into his waist, forcing her legs around him, and—Fuck—her heat.

Peter’s brain nearly short-circuited. She was like a bonfire against his belly. His cock pushed against his trousers, straining for her warmth. He secured her hips to his with a tight grip, which only pissed her off more. She thrashed, enraged. 

She really needed to stop doing that. It only made the burn worse. 

A few months ago, Peter would have been ashamed of the rush he felt from manhandling her. Ashamed of how his cock ached and twitched at her fruitless tantrums.

“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.

“Yeah?” he said with a bitter laugh. “You're a spoiled little brat!”

“Fuck you!”

“See what I mean?” Peter scoffed, holding her tighter. He breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. “Not even a ‘please.’” 

His pride was short-lived. Inexplicably, Honey arched her neck and buried her teeth into his shoulder. He roared—“Fuck! What the fuck!!??” —surprised she didn’t bite through the silk of his collared shirt.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only beast in the room.

They tumbled down ungracefully. Peter landed hard on his back, with Honey crashing on top of him. She collapsed on his lungs, knocking the wind from his chest. Sputtering, he reached out to grab her, his fingertips barely missing the hem of her dress. The small woman scrambled to her hands and knees, then to her feet. 

Honey dashed into the suite while Peter’s voice echoed—“Goddamnitareyacrazy!?”—after her. 

Padding on her toes, she ran into a darkened living room with vaulted ceilings that might have been large enough to fit her entire apartment. Outside glass walls, the Midtown skyline surrounded her. The Metlife and Empire State Buildings glittered proudly in a breathtaking view.

The room was situated in the corner of the building. Velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an unobstructed view of the city. The Dark Academia-Meets-Glam aesthetic seating area featured a sleek, modern leather sectional and mod velvet chaise lounge chat set. 

Without time to admire any of it, she scrambled to the first piece of furniture she could reach. She grabbed the first thing her fingers could find—a designer fruit bowl centerpiece made of polished stainless steel and brass pomegranates. 

It was exquisite and expensive. 

Honey spun on her heel and flung the heavy metal at Peter.

He dipped deftly, his spine bowing back, narrowly missing the bowl as it whipped past him. The object barreled through a crystal chandelier, glass shattering like raindrops as they came down.

“Hey—!” he scowled, facing her with an indignant glare.

A moment later, he quickly shielded his face from another flying object: an asymmetrical crystal-and-Riverstone candelabra that crumbled against his forearm. It might as well have been a brick, with ceramic shards tumbling off of his shoulder. 

Peter bristled in aggravation, brushing the pieces off. Now, she was really pissing him off.

He glanced up just in time to see a glass vase containing two dozen roses—meant to be her gift—hurtling towards his head. Reflexively, he snatched it from the air with one hand, water and all. He palmed the crystal vase like catching a baseball. Didn’t spill a drop. 

His quick reflexes stunned the both of them. Peter’s jaw went slack—partially at his ability to save the flowers, but mostly with indignation that Honey had somehow destroyed $1,000 worth of the hotel’s tchotchkes in a few seconds. 

“Enough!” Peter barked, carefully setting the vase down. Ignoring him, the woman darted toward another side table, already reaching for another expensive object to throw at him. 

Suddenly, Honey’s ankle was caught in a sticky grip. Both legs pulled out from beneath her. She flattened immediately with an ooof—her belly dropping to the wool carpet. 

Dazed, she glanced back at her legs with a crease in her brow. With a jolt, she was pulled along by a stringy, spongy substance on her ankle. It felt the way canned compressed air feels when shooting skin at close range. 

Her nails dug into the carpet fibers as she was dragged back. “Agghhh! What the—Getitoff!” 

As soon as the pulling stopped, Honey was on her back again, gazing up at the sharp lines of Peter’s cold gaze. He towered over her, even on his knees, as he mounted her hips. Protesting, she pelted him tirelessly with her fists.

The smell of sweat loomed in the air as he finally restrained her. He caged her in, pinning her wrists to the floor. Nerves buzzing and tempers flaring, she continued to writhe and wrestle with him to no avail. Peter quickly overpowered the more petite woman, fomenting her anger. 

“You’re hurting me!” she sneered breathlessly, teeth gritted. 

Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”

“M’not lying—!”

He glared back, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re so full of shit—!”

“Fuck you! What do you know—?”

“I know you, Honey!” he charged, silencing her. 

She went still, subdued beneath his dark gaze. Peter loomed over her like a stormcloud. “I know the games you like to play,” he said—both teasing and sinister, toying with his prey. He lowered his lips until they breathed the same air. 

Honey’s focus was split between Peter’s intense stare and glistening, kiss-ravaged mouth. She tried not to notice the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric with each labored breath. He could easily reach down and touch her. Tried not to focus on how solid his chest felt against hers, like carved marble. Tried not to focus on the dark chocolate of his eyes melting in the heat of their gaze. 

Just as intensely, Peter watched her watch him—zeroing in on the idle way her tongue darted to wet her lips. The tiny action shot electricity down his spine, straight to his groin. 

Honey felt that, too. A tiny gasp escaped her, her lashes fluttering. The fight suddenly left her arms as she noticed the heavy bulge against her hip. 

He was hot. Not just figuratively. Feverishly hot. He was so hard, too—and just for her. The lewd image of him splitting her open on his cock made her insides clench. 

Peter eyed her dangerously, his voice a dark abyss. “Think you can hide it from me, eh?” The teasing smile on his lips bordered on a snarl. “Gonna sit here an’tell me... that if I were to reach down between your legs right now...” Her heart hammered in her chest, hanging on every word. In her mind, she was begging him to follow through with the threat. “...Those panties won’t be soaked?” 

Honey failed to swallow back a little mewl as he leaned down closer.

“Ya think I can’t feel ya, huh?” he mumbled, lips ghosting the curve of her throat. “Think I can’t smell how wet you are right now?” Another wanton exhale left her belly as she leaned into the heat of his breath on her skin. “Y’know I can already taste you on my tongue, babygirl.”

Honey’s mouth and legs seemed to part further at his vulgar words. She shivered at the sensation of his slick tongue traversing her pulse point.

“You’re... an asshole...” she murmured breathlessly. She sounded half-asleep.

Peter hissed, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren't’cha?” 

The sudden ferocity made her eyes unintentionally roll back. A second later, Peter’s fingers collared her, choking off the small mewl in her throat. He turned her by the chin, wrenching her attention to him. 

“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.

“How ‘bout that little stunt you pulled with the waiter?” he prodded. There was an icy edge on the last word. Her throat bobbed while she kept her face neutral. The bright amber of his glare penetrated her. Peter continued accusatorily, “Those flirty little giggles while he gave ya fuck-me eyes? Y’think I didn’t see that?”

Honey sniffed, stiffening her upper lip. This was a power move; she knew better than to back down. “Look who's jealous,” she scoffed. 

With a jolt, she again attempted to wrench her wrists free. He simply held on tighter, closing his talons as she twisted like a snake.

“Jealous?” Peter repeated calmly, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Me? Nah.” His hands suddenly seized her hips as he forcibly jerked her up off the floor. A slew of profanities spilled from her mouth, bucking against him as he carried her.

In a few strides, he was at the edge of a dining table. With little regard for his barbarity, he plopped Honey on the surface, shoving her flat on her back. Peter arched over her as if to dominate her, spine bowing until he filled her periphery with his fierce gaze. 

Honey’s eyes sparkled, cheeks colored from the rush. “Threatened, then!”

Peter’s face softened inexplicably. Blinked at her for a moment, head tilting. Then, he landed an open-palmed smack against her ass. 

It was a surprisingly heavy blow, as close as he’d ever come to intentionally inflicting pain on her. Honey yelped, hissing from the sting on her upper thigh. Right after the strike, Peter’s fingers began kneading her flesh, soothing the welt that was bound to form.

“See, if I were a jealous man,” he noted with an evil sneer, “I woulda gouged his eyes out with a salad fork.” 

Peter swallowed up her gasp with a forceful kiss. A few moments later, he broke away.

“If I felt threatened?” he added breathlessly, “I woulda bent you over the table and fucked you dumb. Let everyone in the Five Boroughs hear you beg for my cock.”

Once the filth rolled off his tongue, Peter went back to using it to lash against hers. Honey was overwhelmed by the soft, wet muscle invading her mouth. Not only that, the violent edge to his words felt like standing in a river and grabbing a livewire. A shiver racked through her body, a current of pent-up anger and desire sending blood rushing to her core.

As if on cue, Peter’s fingertips made contact with the lace fabric between her thighs. She tremored at his touch, heart skipping. He toyed with the soft, stretchy material. Snapped it lazily against her flesh.

His voice was hypnotizing. “I woulda shoved these dirty panties down his throat just to never hear his stupid fuckin’ accent again.”

Honey felt drunk off of the vitriol he poured into her ear. It was violent and possessive... and it shouldn’t have made her so horny, and yet—

Honey trembled with anticipation, panting like a bitch in heat. “I-I... can’t... ugh, fu—” 

The pads of his fingers ran firmly along her seam. She let out an embarrassing whine. Peter's prediction was spot-on. A shameful amount of wetness coated the inside of her thighs. He played with the soaked fabric and smeared her mess across her skin with a smug smirk.  

“Think I don’t know what you like?” he muttered darkly, echoing her earlier jab. 

RIP!

The lace bunched at her waist. Honey’s wet skin felt particularly chilled being exposed to the air. She quivered with anticipation. Her head was spinning, pussy throbbing. She felt worshiped and simultaneously defiled. 

Peter pressed his forehead into hers, skin-to-skin. She stared into the black of his eyes in suspended silence, like the pornographic thoughts in his head were being projected into her mind.

Her own pupils were blown black. “Fuckin’ hate you so much—”

“I don’t care.”

“—re’such an asshole—”

“I don’t care,” he repeated more firmly. Then, “You belong with me.”

“You left me!” she fired back.

The sharpness of her tone sobered him a little. He blinked and sighed. “I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you.”

She attempted to sit up, trying to lift her shoulders unsuccessfully. She writhed with spite, “Fuckin’ selfish prick, I outta cut off—”

“What was my drink order?”

He blurted the last sentence out with a mind-blowing level of calm. At once, their bodies went still. Still pinned to the table with a hummingbird beneath her breast, Honey stared up at him in confusion. 

Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”

“My drink order,” Peter repeated, his expression void of the aggression he had the previous moment. 

It was like a mask had fallen away, and the man on top of her transformed into a different person. Maliciousness evaporated, replaced by eagerness. Desperation. 

Peter stared at her, intently searching her gaze. “At the shop,” he whispered, eyes soft. “What you used to make for me every time I came t’see you..?” The words fell away as he stared at her expectantly. 

She arched a brow. 

It had been black coffee, bitter and dark. Just like Peter’s entire world. How it had always been. Until—

“You said I should try something new,” he added, with urgency like reminding her of a forgotten dream. “So you made something for me—something... special.”

Peter’s heart swelled through his eyes at the last word. Honey stared up at him, perplexed. He was looking for the answer on the tip of her tongue:

Honey and Lavender. 

Confusion ceded to aggravation. A line formed between Honey’s brows.

“You remember, right?” he asked, hopeful.

She did. He knew she did. He could see it at the corners of her eyes, pooling behind her eyelids. Sobering memories flooded her, cooling the heat between them. A different sort of ache settled in.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He took a breath, relieved but still anxious. “Say those words,” he said, “if you really want me to stop.”

Her damp lashes fluttered as Honey blinked up at him in surprise. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he swallowed dryly. His stomach lurched at the thought of being sent away like this. 

Still, it was a risk he had to take. 

“I can let go, walk away,” he offered tenderly. “Right now. No questions asked.” Each word felt like sticking needles through his tongue. He gave her an out, needing confirmation that her reciprocated lust wasn’t imagined. 

“Say the words,” Peter whispered in lament, “and I’ll leave you alone.”

That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.

Despite Peter’s heart telling him her rejection would be unbearable, the thought of truly harming her was more so. 

Honey studied him with thoughtful eyes, contemplative and curious. He had won. He subdued her. Restrained her. She remembered when he threw a piano like a toddler throwing a toy truck. 

She could do little to stop him if he wanted to force her. And yet—

There he is. 

This was the man she remembered. The one that was ready to die for her. To die by her hand, if that’s what she wanted. 

“Two words,” Peter sighed, his nose brushing against hers. It was a sweetly affectionate gesture. “Say the words, and this can end right n—”

Honey captured his lips, stealing his breath like it was her only source of oxygen. Static filled Peter’s ears, his body tensing and relaxing simultaneously. He was soaring and plummeting. Rising and falling. 

Her tongue slipped past his lips, dragging along the pad of his mouth. Soon enough, the sweetness melted off in their flames. 

Honey pulled her mouth away, barely able to get out her plea. “Touch me, Peter. Make me feel it.”

And she dove right back in. This time, Peter plunged with her, deep beneath the waves of lust. He sank into her current, dragging her with the tide of desire.

Peter’s hands were frantic travelers. Flitting from her wrists to her shoulders. To gently cup her face. To smooth over the mounds of her breasts. To dig his fingers into the linen fabric of the sweetheart neckline.

“Love this dress,” he idly mumbled between kisses, abusing the neckline. “Mmm—where’d ya say ya got it?”

“Oh…uhm—?”

The question caught her off guard. She blushed, brain foggy with lust. Her instinct was to say something like ‘thank you,’ but her tongue fumbled the words. “Uh... it was, I think, Old Navy—?”

A ripping sound shocked her. She squeaked as a flurry of cotton fibers burst from the top of the dress. 

Peter yanked the linen bodice apart like tissue paper, his tongue chasing away any protest from her lips. Gooseflesh broke out as her skin was exposed to the air. Driven by lust, he shoved the ruined material down to her waist. 

“Fuck, Peter...” she gasped, scandalized.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.

It was his turn to be greedy. Peter dug his hands beneath the cups of her bra, toying with the peaks of her breasts. 

With a snap, the bra was torn in half. The strength in Peter’s long fingers stunned her. Puzzling her as much as it turned her on.

He laved at her left breast with his tongue, drawing an obscene moan from her. His hand pinched sadistically at her right nipple. The delectable sting traveled from her chest to her cunt. She arched—”ughhh, god”—her spine bowing beautifully.

He held the cleft of her left breast delicately in his hand while lapping at the ridges of her peaked flesh. Warm tongue caressed the tip, drawing shapes and discovering pathways to her pleasure. Every little flick inspired something new. She cooed and twitched beneath him. He was desperate to memorize her taste. 

Languidly, he massaged each of her tits inside his mouth, his cock aching as he imagined licking her pussy with the same fervor. It was almost unbearable. A strangled moan vibrated through his chest at the picture in his mind. 

Her reaction to the sound came out as an agonized mewl. 

Oh.

He needed more of that sound.

Peter felt her push on his shoulders. Trying to wriggle away from his mouth. 

This time, he had no tolerance for misbehavior. He grabbed both wrists and forced them above her head. Honey yanked back, stunned at being glued down to the table surface by his palms. 

The peach of his pouty lips curved upward as his eyes took a turn ravishing her. She was a sight of wicked debauchery. Her hair was a mess, and her nearly-naked body lay across the table like a feast. Her thighs locked around his hips.

He used one hand to rub circles into the delicate skin of her restrained forearms. The other hand mischievously dipped lower and lower, sliding through her wet heat. Calloused, dexterous fingers spread her lips open, playing in her slick and prodding her tight hole. 

Honey was finished. Ruined. Past the point of no return. Unconditionally surrendered. Helpless and eager to subjugate herself to her conqueror. Filthy sounds filled the room, punctuated by weak cries from his new loyal subject.

“So pretty,” he sighed breathlessly as he coated his fingers in her cream. “All this for me, princess?” He cooed at her, edging on cruel.

A broken gasp fell from her lips, her chest pulsing involuntarily. 

“Aww, what’s the matter? Does this little pretty pussy ache, baby?”

A vortex formed deep in her belly, dragging her in. He licked his dry lips, salivating at the image.

“I know it hurts, baby, I know. I know,” he teased. “It’s been hard playin’ all by yourself, huh?” The sunniness of his voice was eclipsed. “All alone. Screamin’ out my name into your pillow. Fingers buried deep in your wet cunt.”

Honey’s eyes snapped open. Before she could respond, the breadth of his middle fingertip penetrated her. She gasped as his finger speared her open. All the while, he wore a devil’s smile.

“Ain’t that right? Only for me.” Entranced, he watched her every twitch and shudder. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

It was a question feigning the need for her confirmation. She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. 

No, that can’t be right—had he been watching her masturbate in her apartment? Was he watching her the entire time he was gone? 

The possibility enraged her. Ten orgasms from the King of New York’s Underworld couldn’t even quell that fire.

Peter smiled wickedly, playing with her pussy. Taking his time toying with her flesh. He was a tyrant-king, dominating her pleasure. With a calloused hand, he held onto her cunt like it belonged there.

But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.

“Oh-n—ohh god,” she gasped. Unbeknownst to him, an evil plot bloomed in her brain. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”

He licked up each broken syllable.

“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 

Sweat beaded on her chest, sin oozing through her pores.

“...Pedro.”

Halt.

Brakes squealing. Full stop. Not only in the physical world between them but also in Peter’s living fantasy.

Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 

She got him, alright. 

Flawless victory.

Dark eyes flashing, Peter withdrew his fingers from her. “Fuckin’ brat…”

In one fluid motion, Peter flipped her over to her belly, stunning her. He followed with another forceful slap to her ass cheek. This one was more punishing than the last, drawing a puppy-like yelp. His voice was ice. Eyes black. 

Now, she was in trouble.

“Think that’s funny?” he said through gritted teeth.

Peter manipulated her limbs like a rag doll. He maneuvered her forward until her cheekbone pressed against the table. She panicked for a moment at being in such a compromising position. 

The chill of the air across her wet pussy made her shiver. At the same time, she clenched at his roughness.

Peter kneaded her sides, pressing fingerprint bruises on her waist. He yanked her hips towards him until her knees were on the table’s edge. Honey’s face burned, stricken with modesty and flustered by how he hoisted her ass in the air. 

Her hips were propped up like a rack of lamb, and he licked his lips at the sight. It was too vulnerable, being bared to him like this. Obscene, on display, inches from his face. 

For a half second, she considered using the safe words. 

She squirmed uncomfortably while her mess dripped down the inside of her thighs. Peter denied any attempt to escape, eventually gathering her limbs and pulling her hands behind her back. 

Short puffs of breath fogged the glass surface of the table. Her heart pounded beneath her. Honey had only witnessed this side of him a few times—and never directed toward her. 

She was in trouble. But was she in danger?

The buckle of his belt clinked as it came free. Honey quivered at the sound, pussy aching in anticipation.

And if she was in danger, why did that make her wet?

“Pete—” Honey muttered, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Leather nipped at her forearms as he used his belt to tie her hands behind her back. 

“Ple-please—“

He fisted her hair, rearing her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, her chin dangling above the table surface.

“Listen to me, princess,” Peter snarled, hot in her ear. Spite peppered his tone. “If you ever call out another man’s name when I’m inside ya again— I’ll make ya wear nothin’ but my cum for the next week.” 

The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 

It was always opposites with him.

This was the same man who coddled and worshiped her. The same one who kidnapped her, drugged her, blindfolded her, and gagged her. 

He forced her, a willing participant, into his bed—by asking her permission. 

Peter was more than capable of keeping her chained to his bedpost if he wanted it. 

Or… if she wanted it.

Peter snickered at her expression. “Ooh, yeah… Betchu’d like that, huh?” He taunted her like she was broadcasting her dirty thoughts. “Such a needy little slut for me, ain't that right?” 

Honey felt his warmth leave her back, like being plunged into the Hudson in winter. His hands reappeared at the back of her thighs, and her first instinct was to try to close her legs. 

That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 

He split her thighs like opening a book. Grinned at the sight as if he stumbled across gold.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re soaked. Just talkin’ about it and look at the mess you made…”

Embarrassment and want ravaged her. The conflicting experiences had her ovaries twisted into knots. Honey bit her tongue, unsure if she was going to scream or moan. 

Instead, it came out like a pathetic mewl. “Pe-Peter, please—”

Then he open-palm-smacked her cunt, fingers landing directly on her labia. 

The wet sound it made was humiliating, and the sensation triggered all of the reactions above. She squealed at the sting on her folds. This was a delectable torture. For Peter, it was an appetizing sight. 

“Ya like that?” he grinned over the sound of her whimpers. He already knew the answer.

Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 

“Like bein’ my kept girl? Tryin’ so hard to get my attention. Drivin’ me nuts. Well, you got it now, Honey.” 

Slap. 

A third strike had her pussy clenching. Honey had never experienced such an erotic rush before. She shuddered with embarrassment, afraid she’d cum from this—

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Honey gasped for air, a scream breaking through her voice. She was drowning in sick pleasure, tears in her eyes.

The mob boss gripped her thighs again, pulling her knees off the table and lifting up the weight of her lower half. The action was as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. 

God, his strength was impossible. She struggled to comprehend it while picturing herself being broken apart by it. A slew of tiny pleas fell from her lips. She didn’t even know what she was begging for—his mercy or punishment.

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he purred with a candy voice. Brought his lips to where she was split, equal parts seductive and sinister. “Be still for me. I gotcha.” He wore a Cheshire grin. “Lemme kiss it better.” 

Slowly, he licked a line from her clit to the entrance of her cunt. She shuddered, followed by a lewd wail. She bucked her hips as he let the tip of his tongue toy with her. 

“Mmmf—so fuckin’ sweet,” Peter mumbled between languid strokes around her vaginal gate. His grip was inescapable. “Can’t help myself, s-sooo hungry…”

Honey felt an evil smile against her skin before his mouth went back to work on her. Tiny, stinging nips and kitten licks tormented her flesh. With her hips locked in place, he lashed her clit with his tongue.

Honey squirmed against the leather belt, her nails digging into the grain. She wanted to be bound like this forever. 

Peter had no intention of letting her go any time soon. 

With her thighs spread open, he dragged her toward the edge of her ecstasy. As soon as he felt her body begin to shake, he pulled away. The punishment ended with another smack to her swollen clit.

Honey cried out in frustration at having her release snatched away. 

Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” he smirked with a dark chuckle. This was becoming his favorite pastime. “You mad now that you’re not the only one who can play games?”

“Gahh—Peter… fuck, plea—don’t tease—!”

Peter’s fingers slipped inside with a squelch, shutting her up. Simultaneously, he lapped at her juices while massaging her walls. Soon, he settled into an unbreakable focus.

Each kiss to her nether lips sizzled with passion. Fueled by devotion usually only reserved for a wedding day. 

“—mmmm, tastes so pretty,” he murmured into her flesh, “my pretty girls...” 

In her dazed state, Honey wondered with a pang of jealousy who the ‘she’ he was referring to was. 

“—sooo sensitive; she likes it when I kiss her like that, yeah?—” He said, in between languid, open-mouth kisses to her slit.

Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s talking about my pussy? In the third person? 

Honey gasped, scandalized at the preposterous thought. It was the most deliciously erotic moment of her life. Enraptured tears budded her eyes, the coil in her belly nearly suffocating her.

“—Fuck, oh god, Peter, don’t stop, don’stop, donstop, donstah—”

Preoccupied with his own intoxicating thoughts, Peter was eager with his tongue and steady with his hands. The room filled with the filthy, wet sounds of his carressing and French kissing of her cunt. He pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, passionately— reverently— as if making love to two different brides. 

Soon, Honey’s pleas were barely more than breathless whining. He smiled like the devil, lips coated with her slick. 

“Patience, Honey,” he admonished, sing-song and patronizing. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too.”

Fuck—she was going to come from this. 

The more perverse his words were, the closer she was. So, so close—

Then, another sharp slap. 

Honey wailed, fingers digging into the leather of her restraints. Her whole body protested. The cycle repeated so many times she lost count—until her flesh was puffy from his torture. 

“Please, don’t—please, Peter, don’t tease,” she frantically begged, tears streaming. “No more— Please, I wanna come so bad—” 

He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”

“God, yes, please—Nyahhh-need you—Need you... inside—“

Peter hissed behind his teeth, struggling to keep his pace even as his cock jerked at her pleas. He flashed an evil smile. “S’at right?”

“Pl-please, f-feels so good, ple—gah-I need it—!”

He was in no hurry. It was almost greedy, the way he ravaged her. His fingers pressed Merlot bruises into her hips and waist while his mouth left raspberry welts on her thighs. 

Honey cried out around a moan as she felt his fingers deepen. His loving touches to her sensitive spots turned wicked, reminding her this was also a penalty for her bratty transgressions. She wept and squirmed, practically drooling on the table.

He simply grinned.

“—Mmmhm, that’s it—scream for me, princess—”

Honey’s tiny little hip thrusts fit easily in his palm as he groped her. He found it adorable, really.

“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he panted, eyes blown black. Shadow returned to his voice. “You’re mine now, ya hear?” His eyes traveled to where his fingers were buried to the knuckles. “Gonna fuck you every way I want—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”

His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.

All mine. 

The sinfulness of his thoughts tugged his insides into a vortex. This was wrong, he reasoned. Not how he wanted this to go. Poor girl sounded brainless, begging to be fucked.  He wasn’t much better off. This wasn’t how he planned this to go. 

But he was willing to pivot.

Hands shaking, he fumbled with his fly. It wasn’t until his cock bobbed free, glistening with precum, that he felt any sort of relief. Peter grabbed her hips and lifted them off of the table, repositioning her so he was lined up with her slit.

“Fuckin’ need you so much, Honey—” he muttered mindlessly, focused on pushing the swollen, leaking crown of his cock against the silk of her pussy. 

Her hips’ weight rested easily in his hands, and she keened at the sensation of his head pressing against her entrance. 

And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.

Honey tensed up, even as her pussy throbbed with want. It was as if all her muscles were reaching for him, heart included.

It was too much. Mascara trailed faintly down her cheeks. Her heart soared. And ached. She felt spoiled with pleasure, delighting in this penance.

More. She wanted more.

“Fuck—wanted ya so bad,” Peter mumbled, watching his cock slip through her lips. He sounded airy, hypnotized by the view. “Wanted t’crawl through your window like the goddamn—ahh— boogeyman... fuck ya in your own bed. Wanted t’take’ya home with me and keep ya there— Never let you leave.”

Honey swallowed back a sob. Then why did you send me away? 

He paused. 

Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?

“Because I’m an idiot,” Peter huffed, his voice fragile. 

He leaned forward and lovingly kissed up her spine, each tender press of his lips an apology. 

“I’m a stupid fuckin’ fool.” The heat of his breath ghosted across her back. “So stupid—Thought I could protect ya if I kept you away. Thought I could somehow live like that—without you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn fool.”

Peter felt the sting of tears flooding his vision. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them out. “I can’t live without ya,” he nearly whimpered. “There is no life for me if you’re not in it.”

“Peter,” she said, feeling her heart lurch. Her spirit was a ship being tossed in a hurricane. One more wave, and she would break. Honey’s voice trembled, “St-stop t-talking—”

“Not until I’ve said what I shoulda said—!”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next five seconds—”

Peter cut her off by pulling her up by the shoulders and standing her upright. Honey fought it—because, of course, she did—desperately clutching the steel armor around her heart. 

Overpowering her again, he tugged the naked woman closer until her back lined up to his chest. It was an awkward position with her bound arms crushed behind her against his abs. He towered over her, eyeing her face from the side, seeking her gaze. Hooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. 

Always the fighter, Honey tried to wrench herself from his hold. Peter’s body was like a Greek god’s, with pillar-like arms and marble fingers keeping her from wriggling away. But his soft, soulful eyes are what pinned her in place. 

As soon as she peered into their oaken color, she was trapped again. 

“No,” she sneered, shaking her head. The tears weren’t from pleasure anymore. “Don’t—”

“‘Honey and Lavender,’” he whispered, featherlike. “Those are the words. All you gotta do is say ‘em, and I’ll stop.”

She gritted her teeth, bucking against his sweetness. His arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her in.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me!” she revolted, voice getting weaker by the second. “What the hell do you want from me, Peter?!” 

His features softened. Serenity pressed between his lips. “I want all of you, Honey,” he answered with resolve. “Body and soul. Wanna spend the rest of my life with ya. If you don’t kill me first.” 

He said the ‘if’ part with a teasing lilt in his tone and a half-smile. The same smirk that she loathed—and fell in love with. 

Honey squeezed her eyes shut. Peter’s thumb came up gently, wiping a messy tear from her cheek. That loving and pure act was worse than any torture he could inflict.

Walls tumbling down, her body loosened. She went slack against his arms, instead fighting to keep more tears from flowing.

“I love you,” he whispered, pouring his soul into each word. “Forever. Remember? No matter what.” 

Peter waited for her eyelids to peel back, revealing glossy eyes and a weary expression. They stayed still for eons. Nothing but their breaths and heartbeats between them, eyes locked on each other.

“Even if you’re mad as hell at me,” he added. “Even if you hate me—I want it all.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “And what then, Peter? What now?”

A moment passed. He leaned around her shoulder, bringing her chin close, and answered her with a kiss. Gentle at first, his tongue explored hers as she relaxed against him. She felt her toes leave the ground before she realized what was happening.

Peter broke the kiss. “Now?” he breathed into her hairline. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be mine.”

One of his hands left her torso—borrowed to push the head of his cock into her gate. An overwhelming burn erupted between her legs. She arched her back away from his abs as best she could while being split open.

Honey wailed brokenly, voice shattered, as he bottomed out. Peter’s hand instinctively came up to cover her mouth. She let the scream out into his palm, just as he’d promised.

Peter hissed, letting his head fall back in agonized ecstasy. His eyes drifted shut, feeling both relief and torment buried to the hilt in her warmth. 

He barely ground out, “Shh-shhh, s’alright... that’s it, s-so good, so good for me...”

His Honey was already writhing on his cock, and he hadn’t even begun to move. She was so goddamn tight he wasn’t sure he wanted to move at all.

Still, he couldn’t help indulging himself. Never could, around her.

The arm bracing Honey’s torso snaked back across her body. His hand, burning hotter than a branding iron, stretched out and smoothed over the curvature of her belly. Her pussy clenched tighter as his palm found the trophy he was looking for—an obscene bulge in her lower stomach.

A slow, sinful curve played upon his lips. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you.” When he uncovered her mouth, her roars had quieted down to a wanton purr. He gently tilted her head downwards so she could witness the depravity herself. “Just look at how you take my dick, Honey.” 

She shuddered at the sight, nodding rapidly, unable to speak. She wondered if this was just more teasing, but she couldn’t think beyond the penetration. 

“God, you look so beautiful like that,” he muttered breathlessly. His amber eyes were fixated on the sinful spectacle beneath her waist, unable to avert his gaze. “So pretty with my cock stuffed up inside your tummy...” 

Peter sounded unhinged, even to himself. His abs twisted into knots. Vile, perverse images eclipsed his sense of decency—her body naked and wrecked, with his seed spilling from her holes. Then, her belly round with his children. Just the thought devolved him like his civilized nature was sucked back into a black hole.

Wordless whimpers poured from her lips as her taut muscles succumbed to his girth. Calloused fingertips reached further down, brushing against the hood of her clit. She jolted in his arms with the slightest touch.

At that moment, Honey’s world disappeared. Nothing existed but the exquisite ache between her legs. 

The conquerer inside him preened. “Is that the spot? Is that where it hurts, baby?” he purred into her ear with a filthy, predatory voice. Her body answered him, rewarding him with a delicious squeeze around his shaft. “That’s it,” Peter groaned, insatiable. “Good girl. So good for me.” 

His praise, even if it was teasing, was too much. Peter’s affirmations, paired with his ministrations, tightened the coil in her stomach. Exhaustion crept up on her body even as the bubble of desire swelled.

Ever so slowly, his hips pitched back and then forward. He bottomed out again at the end of the languid stroke. A shattered mewl burst from her lips, pussy pulsating around his dick.

She was magnificent. 

”Fuck, baby. Feels s-so fuckin’ good—ahh, I missed this tight pussy so much. Wanted to play with her so bad…”

Peter’s hips moved of their own accord. They were a pornographic masterpiece in the decorative mirrors situated around the room. He stole a greedy glance at the couple’s reflection. Smiling wickedly, he turned her head, making her see what he was seeing.

Honey’s stomach fluttered at the sight of her body—glistening and restrained—slotted against him. Her head bobbed as Peter gripped her hips and fucked into her like a sex doll. 

Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.

Slowly, he increased the pace of his thrusts, panting into her ear. At some point, she started muttering. Broken and embarrassingly desperate pleas and pet names tumbled unwittingly out of her mouth.

One of them must have caught his attention. But she honestly couldn’t remember what she had said.

“Ugh—I lose my fuckin’ mind when you call me that name,” he growled, throwing his head back. “Ya know that, precious? Such a good girl for me. Good girls get spoiled.” 

Honey’s body thrummed at his baby talk. In all its depravity, she started to suspect what she must have said in all its depravity. Slowly, she was losing the ability to be ashamed.

The slick-coated pad of Peter’s thumb circled her clit, before traveling down further. He curiously prodded where they were joined—“Fuck, look at how good ya open up for me.” — His fingers trailed the outline of her stretched hymen wrapped around his cock.

Honey closed her eyes and turned away, blushing from his praise. Timid about how she relished in the filth. Peter brought his lips to her ear as if there was a secret the two of them shared.

“Don’t worry, baby. I gotcha—Daddy’s gonna make the ache go away.”

The spring snapped. She was nearly knocked over by the wave of pleasure that followed. Her pussy fluttered around his cock with no warning, body trembling and toes curling. Her cream gushed down his shaft. 

He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 

Honey could vaguely recognize her pathetic voice through the bells in her ears. She squealed and cried out over his repetitive, patronizing chants — “Awwgoodgirl, fuckin’ so-so perfect— squeezin’ me so tight” — while he fucked her through her orgasm.

It felt like several moments of pure pink haze, herself a willing victim to his delicious, relentless pull. 

“Shit, sweetie, did you just come all over my cock?” he asked, exasperated.

Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 

“Don’t cry, baby. Don’chu worry,” he murmured affectionately, himself obsessed with the cavern of her divine flesh. “When I said I was gonna make you my toy, I meant it.” She whimpered, nodding her head as it rested back against his shoulder. “M’not finished with you,” he said, dropping an octave. “Not by a long shot.”

Time ceased to have true meaning. Peter rammed into her steadily.

“Please don’stop, please use me, please, wan’more—” She yelped like a puppy.

He smiled against her sweaty skin. “Yeah? Ya like bein’ a good girl? My good girl?”

“I’llbegoodI’llbegoodm’yours—fuck—yoursyoursyours—”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned, with another curse beneath his breath. Eyes drifted shut. “Good, good girl.”

All he could think of was more. 

More of that sound. More of her juices. More of her staccato breaths as he fucked her tits into a steady bounce on her chest. More of her whining, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

“All mine, all mine…”

Peter needed more of her. He needed to watch her fall apart on his cock again. Honey was so close already; he could feel it. He’d give her another orgasm, one that leaves her in tears. Then another. He was going to fuck her into submission atop the throne he built for her. She was already his queen. 

Then—He’d make her his whore.

Flip her on her back against the table—or couch— countertop—fuck, maybe the bed if he could remember where it was. Whatever he could reach first. 

Then he’d split her open again on his cock. That way, he could see the enraptured awe on her face. The neediness. Big, round, wet eyes pleading for his touch, calling him filthy names, as his cock bulges below her pubic bone. Begging him to rearrange her guts.

It was heavenly to witness. Peter loved watching her come. And he would, over and over. Once he relocated her to his bed—as soon as he remembered where it was— he could tie her to it.

Not that Honey was fighting at the present. There was no fight in her body, except maybe the will to keep conscious. With every strike against her cervix, she spread herself wider for him. 

But Peter knew she would like it. Honey wanted his unforgiving ecstasy. To take out the mounting frustration of the last few months on her wet pussy. 

“M’gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, m’gonna use your body like my fucktoy—make me feel s-sogood, don’worry—“ 

Honey full-body shuddered with a sob, her head thrown back against his shoulder. 

“S’okay, baby, you can scream if y’want, makes it feel better, doesn’t it, huh—”

Cock-drunk, she nodded, her words coming out as puffs of air.

“Don’stop—don’stop—please, fuck— fuckmehardDaddyIneedit—“

Oh. 

More. Of. That.

“M’not lettin’ you get away again…” he muttered, voice emerging from beneath his twitching abdominal muscles. With possessed eyes, he was glued to where they joined. “Never—never gonna let you go again… All mine now, Honey—you’re all mine…”

Her arms came up to circle the back of his neck as she panted into his throat. “My-my pussy is yours…”

“Everything,” he corrected.

“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”

Peter was getting close. No matter. He’d let himself come inside her soon. There was plenty more to follow. 

He barely recognized his own wrecked voice. “’m not leavin,’ baby. I’m not leavin’ ever.”

A gust of wind followed him as the front door to the suite slammed shut. Peter stood alone in the hotel hallway wearing a sheen of sweat... and nothing else. 

He flushed pink, fumbling to cover himself behind his hands. The cool air made the task easier.

Peter sighed. He’d need to talk to maintenance about better insulation up here.

But not right now. Not while Peter Parker stood ass-naked outside of his door, having been kicked out like a cheap fuck. 

Which might have been Honey’s point, he recognized.

The evidence of their past hour together made his skin sticky. She’d tousled his hair and etched into his back with her nails. He felt sore in places he hadn’t felt in years.

Peter also looked thoroughly fucked. A mixture of pain and relief surged through his muscles. His brain was branded with erotic images of her. He wanted them there.

The door opened again, lifting his hopes. He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Honey, wrapped sloppily in a bathrobe. The rest of her didn’t look much better than Peter. She wore a sour yet adorable scowl on her face.

With a huff, Honey hurled a tight wad of fabric at his nuts, unintentionally intentional in her aim. 

Peter oofed, doubling over to catch the ball of his clothes. At the same time, an Italian leather shoe smacked him in the head. Probably his Tom Ford’s. He heard the door slam closed again, rattling against the frame.

Perplexed, Peter gazed at the molding of the door and the gleaming golden script marking the room number. 

He wondered. 

Would she open the door again to throw him the other shoe? 

Or perhaps the slacks that went along with the dress shirt covering his balls?

Unlikely.

He marveled. 

The nerve of this woman. This goddess-barista who served him his soul in a paper cup. Who held the keys to his heart, his home, and presently, his hotel room. Who somehow managed to kick him out of the penthouse suite of his own hotel. 

Within the confines of his ruined dress shirt, Peter felt another buzz. He fumbled with the shirt, reaching the smartphone concealed inside.

>>> have you moved onto the main course? >>> or are you still tossing the salad? >>> pouring ranch on her hidden valley

Felicia. Peter’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. With a sigh, he tapped out a reply.

<<<  Kitchen’s closed.  <<< Need clothes. And a new room.

He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 

<<< Not another word.

As soon as the message was sent, Peter took another glance at his empty surroundings. Haplessly, he looked toward the closed door. A river of memories flooded him. It surged, swelled, and finally, came to a low simmer.

This was never going to be easy. Nothing ever was with her.

Nothing worth waiting for ever is.

“See you at breakfast,” he whispered aloud lips curled into a smile. “Sleep tight.”

Holding her breath and her ear to the door, Honey waited until Peter’s footsteps faded. When she could no longer hear them, she sighed with exasperation, overcome with exhaustion. Eyes falling closed, Honey leaned back against the door, body aching in places she would feel for days.

After taking a moment, she heard a buzzing sound further in the suite. Honey jumped with alarm, then stumbled on Fawn’s feet to reach the source.

Quickly, Honey waddled to the remains of her yellow dress, fishing out the buzzing object: a 10-year-old smartphone with a black glittery hard case. A holographic cat sticker was fixed to the back, shimmering in the dim light. 

Not just any cat.

She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.

>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?

The heaviest exhale left Honey’s chest, shame creeping up her chest. With her thumb, she scrolled up to review the text messages sent to her. The oldest of which dated back almost four months.

Weeks of correspondence and reassurance from Felicia, not to mention very clear instructions about Peter Parker and how to play his game. 

There was the one from last month:

>>> don’t let him think for one second that you’re gonna let him get off easy!

Then one from last week:

>>> make him suffer. make him grovel. make him lay down in a puddle so you can cross

And these:

>>> go to dinner, but don’t eat anything. order wine, the most expensive one, take one sip and refuse the rest. you pick the restaurant. if he picks the restaurant, hate everything about it >>> play hard to get— but don’t be too cold >>> be flirty. but not slutty.  >>> give him bedroom eyes, but don’t let him stare at you too long.

Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.

>>> under no circumstances >>> no matter what >>> you need to remember this >>> DO NOT FUCK HIM!!1

Honey frowned as she gazed at Felicia’s text message bubble, sent with so much hope and good intention. A notion soundly defeated. A truly hopeless endeavor, if there ever was one.

Biting her lip, Honey tapped out a reply to her confidant:

<<< Sure did.

Thank you for everything you do. Please keep fanfic healthy and support my writing with a reblog.

[nolonger-roses]

I just love the way bilbo brings out in thorin his "personality" and viceverse.

Like thorin shows his soft and caring side. All those glances and smiles and the way that at the end he confesses that home (and love) is above gold. He feels comfortable in showing that he cares but it is more noticeable the more time he spends on the journey.

And that in bilbo appears a fiercly protective side as well as determination and confidence. And I think it was there before Thorin but he needed someone to encourage him.

They are so different and yet that is what makes them perfect together.

[jentheone12]

Several days ago,I have screenshoted this photo of the guys,while I saw my Instagram!

Haven't you noticed there to Q next to Sal (or viceverse)? @vul87556

[oceansssblue]

Hi! I’m the one who requested the cryptic pregnancy one. Sorry that it was all practically written already lol. I have a tendency to talk a lot and get really detailed, so I think it carried over to my request. That’s a my bad on my part, but I’m thankful you did it. Thank you so much!

Out of curiosity, I’ve noticed in a lot of your pregnancy fics that the baby is always a boy or they assume that it will be a boy. Is it a confirmed thing that all children of clones will be boys? Idk much about Star Wars lore so I’m pretty clueless about almost everything lol.

Either way, thank you again and I hope you have a great day!

Heya! Np at all!

Honestly there was no specific reason behind it. I use "he" for a baby refering as neutral, not speficially a boy or girl. Just a someone, a person. It perfectly could have been a girl.

But you've got me thinking. I'm a med student and I've studied just a tiny bit of genetics. Idk exactly how cloning works, ofc, but our beautiful soldiers have literally had their genes altered, so MAYBE, just MAYBE, their TRAITS would have more chance to be transmited to their offspring than those of their partner. I'm guessing too that Kaminoans probably made sure it happens that way to ensure they'd have more soldier like humans in case the clones had the oportunity to reproduce; those long-neck mad labrats. However, genetical traits that can be passed on to offspring (like if you carry the gen for a specific disease, or how many genes you have that determine your height), DON'T have the same inheritance as gender.

Remember said baby is NOT a CLONE like it's father. It has a dad who is a clone, and a mum who isn't. So basically you're still doing the gender mix of two everyday humans, let's say. Let's remember biological gender works like this:

- You have one spermatozoid from dad.

- One ovule from Mum (always X).

And then, when babymaking happens, said spermatozoid swims like a professional towards mum's price.

- If said spermatozoid is an X-spermatozoid, when joined with mum's ovule = you have an XX. So you'll have a GIRL.

- If said spermaotozoid is an Y-spermatozoid, when joined with mum's ovule = you have an XY. So a BOY.

With this, you might think; okay, then the reason a couple has a majority of BOYS instead of girls must be that the dad has a majority of spermatozoids of type Y. And viceverse. Well, bad news; it isn't like that.

There have been studies that investigated the spermatozoids of a man with all offspring being boys (4boys0girls) and a man with all ofspring being girls (4girls0boys). The results? No signficant differences in the amount of spermatozoids-X vs spermatozoids-Y. Which leans you to think the chance of someone having a girl or a boy remains just in luck; in pure chance of the first lucky spermatozoid that makes it to the ovule. And if in four different conceptions the first one has always been a Y-sperm, well, luck has given you four little boys. And viceversa.

However, (thoughts) it can't really be pure 100% luck, right? The probabilities of luck being responsible for a couple having 10 offsprings all MALE or all GIRLS... I mean, it's POSSIBLE, but... maybe there's something else there? Like everything with medicine, we have YET A LOT TO DISCOVER. In absolutely EVERY field of Medicine. Maybe this leaning towards a more boys or more girls resides on the ovule of the mum, which whose barrier may be more sensitive to be broken by a Y or X-spermatozoid. Maybe depending on the way the mum's inner maze is shaped a type of spermatozoid is more likable to run faster than the other. Maybe it's some kind of better compatibility that we haven't yet discovered.

So to sum up, and til more discoveries arise, the chances of our dear clones having boys or girls are always the same; ALEATORY LUCK. Now, physical traits and some other personality etc traits that have a part of genetic carriage (though more complex and usually involving maaaany more genes) are other thing; those CAN be inherenced and probably with more dominance than imaginary lucky mum.

Welp, I went on a bit of a tangent here. Things to remember:

- I'm a med STUDENT, not a genetic EXPERT. So i might have it all wrong. You're welcome to investigate.

- I refer to BIOLOGICAL inheritance regarding gender. So CROMOSOMES. I have no intention of offending anyone.

Hope this answers you well enough my anon friend!

Xx,

Sky.

[mthofferings2023]

Finiorian

See Finiorian’s existing works here.

Preferred contact methods: Email: finiorian@gmail.com Instagram: finiorian

Preferred organizations: - Assistance Dogs International - Innocence Project - Médecins San Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) - Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN) - World Central Kitchen (See the list of approved organizations here)

Will create works that contain: Headcanon, AU, comic version's character, crossover, anything happy, fluff, angst, stress, hurt/comfort, injured characters, light gore, soft nsfw (meaning: kiss, things hinted at/partial nudity), domestic, ghost/paranormal, friendship, family, backgrounds such as natural landscapes, day/night sky, urban/store scenerys without too much details.

Will not create works that contain: Animals, explicit sexual content/hard nsfw of anything full on pornographic, incest, non-con, m-preg, kids, marriage; furry, complex mecha such cars, structures, robots, armours (Bucky's arm is okay), complex background with too much details, nothing without a reference to work.

  -- Art --

Auction ID: 1060

Will create works for the following relationships: Steven Grant/Jake Lockley/Marc Spector - MCU Moon Knight fandom any gen - MCU Matt Murdock-centric - 616, MCU Frank Castle-centric - 616, MCU Loki-centric - Any Universe Hawkeye fandom any gen - 616 Bucky Barnes/Helmut Zemo - 616, MCU Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson & Helmut Zemo - 616, MCU Eddie Brock-centric - 616, Venom movieverse Spider-Man fandom any gen - 616, MCU, Spider-Man (Raimi trilogy), Spider-Verse (animated films), TASM, What If..?

Work Description: I offer a 300pdi full color digital drawing with custom canvas size, where the character(s) can be drawn from bust, waist or full body with background included (single or full color). I will not do comics, but if in the drawing there're 2 or more characters interacting I can include some text to your own liking. Prices: $15 - $30 (1 character) $31- $50 (2 characters) $51+ (3 characters) The characters I will draw can be any of the characters listed in the list, I can draw any centric character with another character from any ship or gen from the list. If you have in mind another gen character different from the one I listed and viceverse, you feel free to ask me directly for it. As a clarification, in some cases like Marc Spector, Steven Grant and Jake Lockley would count as 3 individual characters, even though canonically they're one person. If the bid reaches $100 or more, I will draw as extra 2 full color or sketchs portraits/bust (3000x3000px, 300dpi) with simple background of 2 characters from the list or any other of the winner's taste taking into account the things I won't work with. Please attach any references you need to get my work right and be very specific with what you want. We can agree on the delivery time of the work. If this is not clear, please write me directly if you have questions. I'm excited to create art for you! Good luck this year! 🙂

Ratings: Gen, Teen, Mature

Can pods bid on this auction? Yes - Podbids welcome!

CLICK HERE TO BID ON THIS WORK

The auction runs from October 22 (12 AM ET) to October 28 (11:59:59 PM ET). Visit marveltrumpshate.com during Auction Week to view all of our auctions and to place your bids!

[brooklynwildlife]

Brooklyn wildlife summer fest

Here’s the link to buy your tickets

info about the event

ABOUT BWSF 2023:

Brooklyn Wildlife Summer Festival is an annual, diverse & synergistic, indoor and outdoor festival featuring some of the best Independent talent from New York and beyond. The goal of the event is to galvanize the Indie arts and music community and represent its flourishing cultural growth within Brooklyn, with a special focus on Bushwick.

BWSF 2023 is a true appreciation and celebration of Indie culture. We take an authentic approach to create the largest platform possible for artistic presentation without any corporate sponsorships or industry funding – only art, music and culture in the purest form. We focus on performers in the Brooklyn arts and entertainment scene and want to represent our community...we are lucky to have a large presence of international artists in Brooklyn, so the festival also includes performers and participants from all around the world.

WHAT WE DON'T WANT: Hate speech, Promotion of senseless or gratuitous violence, Exclusivity, Entitlement, Expression of privilege.

. . . Dates, addresses and performers listed below!

9/1 - Opening Night @ Brooklyn Music Kitchen—117 Vanderbilt Ave. Bushwick 

Grant Swift

Eb Rebel

Graphic Melee

Marcus Jade

Melissa Hunter Gurney

Mistha Dean

Modern Flame

Ryan - O'Neil

ViceVerses

No Show No Call

https://tinyurl.com/2b7jm76c For Event Details

9/2: GAMBA Forest— 630 Humboldt St. Greenpoint

OR NAH & Ronit Levin Delgado

kelly shaw nyala

Dan Gitlin

STAV G

ADE O.TONE

ALIXER 

Sunshine Monie El

Nomad N3

The Taste of Vomit 

Ananda Rose

Pheonix Out The

Dakota Smith

The Cannery

G.T. Arpe

MeccaGodZilla

ANTwontstop

C.Shreve the Professor

phil phlaymz 

ZILLY900

The IZM.

https://tinyurl.com/57bndzeu for event details

9/3 : Secret Sphinx Salon — 199 Richardson St. East Williamsburg

Adriana Adeline

Blacc Lotus, Soul Survivor

CallME TK

Chromoplast

Chrrry

Ryan Lucas

Sam Rosen

Millszy •

https://tinyurl.com/yrhmrpv8 for event details

9/4: The Living Gallery— 1094 Broadway, Bushwick

Coffee Nap

Fredrixthelive1 

Phantm Phuego

Complex Messiah

KNOWITALL 

Lex Rush

anna leah

The CHUNE Experience 

Jew Bitch Honey

elana 

Euphony

Mariah Eskoh

Mel Rosa

Danny Severance

Natasha Alexander

Ardamus

Patty Honcho

https://tinyurl.com/2p8k6vw2 For event details

9/5 - Pete's Candy Store— 709 Lorimer, Greenpoint

Cat Rickman

Chocolate Brown & Segami

The DarkDoves

Fancy Cat

https://tinyurl.com/3mh3rmcc for event details

9/6: The Deep End—1080 Wyckoff Bushwick

Mecca Shabazz /DECISIONS

Thorne Malik. (and the Deep Cuts)

DarkStarNoMercy

The Bumbling Woohas

Eliza and the Organix

LOST DOG

Pink Tacos

Cuddlebasstard

https://tinyurl.com/5f2vjhmu for event details

9/7: Becky's House — TBA

Real Clothes

Emmannuel and the unlimited Consciousness

Eush

Sara Clash

https://tinyurl.com/36tt6ey2 for event details

9/7: The Rack Shack—17 Thames St. Bushwick

Virginia Wagner

Queen of Love and Hope

SteV Obsidian

Fuck it’s Leslie

https://tinyurl.com/4p8eek9e for event details

9/7: The Love Gallery— Bushwick

B.Fortune

KNOBAD

Sam Nordlinger

Xtian Aki

Ductape Halo

Garrett Deming

Wade Wilson 

Kay Day

Kjindabuilding 

#JumpingGoats

ALIXER 

Doctor Breakfast 

JOATA

https://tinyurl.com/nka3tfzn for event details

9/8: IVy House Studios— Bushwick

Chris Conde

Parnhash

Homeboy Sandman

Kahlee

Mandella Eskia

Stay on Mars

https://tinyurl.com/282xftm7 for event details

9/9: Gamba Forest—630 Humboldt St. 

Add'm Fears

AllOne

AngelCaroline

Banji

Cruz Cruz

Designer Rap Tour Fearturing James E! Walker

Madeline at Neighbors + Zhenya Skyla

Melton

Mercy Tullis Bukhari

Mosaictheanimated

Pirate Radio Podcast

Samantha Avery

Slick Nova

The Artist & Repertoire Workshop Feat: Yoni Rose and McBean

Valore

Richie

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/bwsf-2023-day-9

9/10: Four Five Six/Glenda the GoodBus/GAMBA Forest—Greenpoint

Ashley Be

Bill Bartholomew

Bo Ballew

Carlyn Castigila 

Devin Bramble

Esco

Gabriela Rossi

God

Joi Sanchez

Jon Gardiner

Lucas Connolly

Mario Benitez

Michelle Joni and the Expandaband

OHene Cornelius

Prince Kurt Russell

Frank Vera

GMS

Renee Catrine

https://www.eventbrite.com/e/bwsf-2023

#festivals #festival #music #tomorrowland #festivalseason #love #dj #rave #india #events #edm #diwali #art #housemusic #party #musicfestival #concerts #techno #livemusic #edmlifestyle #edmfamily #photography #mumbai #festivalfashion #culture #instagram #festivallife #edc #dance #bkwildlife #BWSF2023

[quincyhorst]

KOQ HCs: Gareth Barrett #3

Took longer with this part in specific, sorry. The whole story was written in a notebook I own, but I only got to pass parts 1 and 2 in post format at first. 😅 But here's the continuation, anyway.

So... How about Gareth and soccer? (As always; contains OCs)

Let's just say the start of this unexpected passion ocurred right into a local Oldfolk party. Some boys nearby were playing a 5v5 match, but Gareth, uninterested, observed them from a little hill. That was until he noticed that one had kicked the ball incorrectly, and now it was going in full speed towards Sienna and her pastry table. In an instant, the butler ran below and dove in to catch the shot. Although he fell flat on his face, him having the ball on his arms was enough to win a round of applause (And a hug from his friend).

It was obvious Gareth wasn't used to this, but at least it made him realize his own potential. Given there were many valuable objects that the Fortune were afraid to lose, the little butler had developed good reflexes in case an accident were to happen; but until that moment he had never thought of involving them into sports. Finding a possible way out of his butler life, well, he jumped right in. His entrance to Oldfolk's soccer team was a surprise, but the team warmed up to him fast specially after proving his worth on the local tournaments.

Plus, being on the team also changed forever the -already troubled- dynamic between him and Lance, but for the best. Both managed to see better the flaws and capacities of each other, and they found a common ground within their love of soccer. And like said before, the two also started to train more together with 1v1s. Thanks to the sport their tension dried out, except maybe when Clover was a topic of discussion.

Eventually, when the FFI happened and KOQ was formed, Gareth got found with the awful surprise of being relegated to the bench. He was quick to understand why the number 1 had been given to such a giant, although he did felt a bit resentful with him at first. However it was Freddy's odd interest on spy stories that would unite them, as McQueen was curious on Gareth's butler job and his high class life (Plus the odd theory that he could be working for the typical villian of a spy film). And viceverse, too, as Barrett had always been interested on learning about those who weren't sorrounded in so many privileges than him and the Fortunes.

With time, Gareth found out that McQueen had actually similar struggles as him. He wasn't neccesarily overwhelmed by prior traditions, but his desire of becoming a spy was seen without importance or as a joke by most of his family, something that made him quite angry yet also unable to do much about it. Besides, similar to Gareth giving wrong first impressions to others due to his cold appearance, Freddy had it even worse, given his "abnormal" height made him look even more intimidating than he actually was. Being happy to know he wasn't alone on this, Gareth soon felt more comfortable with him and KOQ as a whole.

His bond with the other benches wasn't that big, BUT he did find some other friends in the field. I think he'd get the best with Philip, his interest on cooking and friendly attitude being reminiscent of Sienna. And I guess it would be the same with Gary and his baking skills, though their personalities could clash a bit more. Also shoutout to Eric and Paul too. Mainly because of this:

Gareth is their third wheel

...But overall, I guess his relationship with Freddy's had become the most important out of the whole team.

Besides, it's not like his friends back on England stayed there. In fact, they followed him over to Liocott, thanks to Clover inviting them to come. No matter how bad things got for KOQ and Gareth, they always stood for him in the crowd (And even Sienna did got upset over how little her friend was able to play).

As for Lance, well... I guess he's just there. He went more his own way during the tournament, specially with the advantage of no adults around that could make him intimidated. To make things even better, Clover approached him quite few times, so they spend more time together than they'd do at Oldfolk. Gareth soon became aware of this, and while he was nervous at first, he soon accepted it. Then again, let's say that Lance wasn't the only going through new feelings here...

[autumn-warrior]

With only one more Act left for Arcane, I am NOT prepared at all.

But this most recent drop of Act II: I FUCKING KNEW CAIT STILL LOVES VI AND VICEVERSE. I KNEW ITTTTTT

[anti-benophie]

"The representation onscreen is getting a annoying. Hollywood is fro USA and it is for white people, POC can go and have their thing. Why they have to take everything. And then it happened like in brdigerton that POC fans want to erase white people and white couples"

"i think people are weaponizing racism right now . not everything is racism. Now in a show like bridgerton it is bad to be white , so yeah, i said that representation is getting annoying because now things turned down and we are being ridiculize. I am not racist but people can think what they want, which is wha they did. I love POC when they are not arrogant and when they don`t misstreat white people and mock on them."

Can you really not see how the first quote, something YOU SAID, is completely related to race and racism? Are you really that obtuse? Can you really not see the big anti POC ideology that you're spitting?

"POC want to erase white people from hollywood and they are letting them. If it were for this fans in brdigerton shouldn`t be white grandchildrens there ."

I see you keep reposting the same meme from Twitter (I think) about the Bridgerton grandchildren and my oh my how you get offended by a little bit of humor. Are people not allowed to joke about things anymore? it didn't struck me as a particularly offensive meme. Just a curious and funny thing to point out. I may be missing something there but I would need someone smarter to explaint it.

"i am not racist. im mad on how hey bahave about their race. They encourage their fans on hating white people. For ehat they said beign white is bad now and white shouldn`t be in tv anymore it seems. IK if im explaining myself well"

Can you give any kind of solid proof that the series has an underlying message of "white people suck we should all hate them"? Because it sounds insane to me. If that were the case, the main family, from which the show gathers it's name, wouldn't be white and not a single one of the love interests would've been white. But we've got Pen, Phillip (if they decide to keep the book story), and who knows about Hyacinth's and Gregory's love interests. Diversity is very different from reverse racism and I think you need to learn more about it and the history of race in cinema.

please tell me and be sincere. If it was opposite, is it was viceverse and all bton babies were white and only one colour, and someone say smt like that they would burn them , trash on fire. But as it is about white people IS A JOKE. And it is not the first post from that person trashing white couple

Please be fr. This wasn't an unharmful joke. She was statting how polin should should be abuse by their POC cousins and let me tell you, with the parents they have im sure they could do it. All KA AND Bs fans like thwm to be discriminators, for examole @fromtheashess always ways how she wanted polin to be drop fro the family so she would be happy,it is funny how they like whay bad people their faves are but whatever. Better for polin family to stay aways from violent toxic bridgertons. Poor babies

It breaks my heart how they would be discriminate. All their uncles and aunts have a kink

3rd the show wasn't saying white people should be hate but giving all this couples and only 1 white is giving free pass to mock on them saying how boring they are

Also they nade Pen do those things and nake her unlikeable BUT kate did worst cheating on her Sister but as she is a WOC it is okey and everylne is rooting for Anthony who ruined a 18 yo girl and Kate wgo ruined her Sister out of hate her.

[goddamnwebcomics]

Okay, is Peter taller than Whitney or viceverse? It feels like this comic has trouble deciding which is which.

Uh, is that Peter's pubehair or fog? Ew.

[connectionxterminated]

Having sourcemates is kinda weird

They may be someone you are canonically close with or someone who while not friendly in the source is in your memories, but they give you a sense of familiarity and comfort like seeing a good friend or a lover you haven't seen in a while.

But there is no garanty that they are gonna be as you remember, their memories can and most likely will be different to your source memories and even if they are friendly with you there will always be a little bit that one remembera ans the other doesn't and viceverse, like meeting your friend from an au where things are only slightly altered

Exactly!! it's like a weirdly comforting feeling that makes you feel a little less alone, but also rather nervous because what if they hate you for being someone in the same source?? It's like, me being the IRL of Charlie Morningstar from Hazbin Hotel and Angeldust from the same source, so when I meet other IRLS from that source I always get like, super anxious im just: "shit they're going to hate me" btw i really should add those to my irl list..

[stripclub-elysium]

Noticing that, Phillip switches between Chun-li's tits, pleasuring one with his mouth and the other with his hand and viceverse, all while thrusting into Chun-li's pussy

Open Sleeping RP (Male, Female, or Futa only)

Chun-li had taken her tea, which she never suspected would taste any differently than how she’s made it. Unaware your muse drugged her, causing her to fall asleep. Falling in a deep sleep, where she won’t wake up for hours. This left her at the mercy of your muse.

Who seems intend on having some fun with the sleepy fighter.

(have fun with her sleeping form)

[slamncram]

PROMPT THING Thorki for “I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

Because it’s you, I wrote you some Viceverse. Dancer!Loki is also Diva!Loki and we should all commend Thor for dealing with him, ever.

Howlong had Loki gone without having Thor at his side when he was goingfor his dance competitions? Thor had up and left when he was 20, andhad been gone for five years. He’d missed the in-person parts ofLoki’s career with the National Academy, the long hours, the risingthrough the ranks. Yes, he’d admitted to watching online wheneverhe had the chance, and Jane had testified to it, but it wasn’t thesame as having him there. When Loki had been training, Thor had beenhis biggest fan, and had been the one driving him to his rehearsals,and staying late when Loki refused to give up. For him to have beengone, so suddenly, ithad left a hole.

Nevermind when it was that he’d chosen to leave. All in all, Loki hadfelt justified in his anger towards his step-brother, and for themost part, Thor hadn’t blamed him for it.

Ofcourse he hadn’t. Thor had always had a soft spot for him, and Lokihad known why, even before Thor had left.

Itjust so happened that he, himself, shared that same soft spot now,and it had meant that when Loki needed to jet off, or take the trainaway, or drive long hours, to go to one of his dance competitions,Thor was there in the seat next to him. Whether it was for him tocompete, personally, or for Loki to be there as the choreographer, itdidn’t matter. Since they’d reconciled, and since Loki had giveninto the same weakness Thor had, there hadn’t been a competitionthat Thor had missed.

Untilnow.

“Areyou still angry with me?”

Lokihad lost track of how many times Thor had asked that question, but hewaspleased to note that, every time Thor asked, it lost a bit of itsconcerned, plaintive edge. Now, it sounded almost put-upon, which wasmore in line with what he expected from him. Thor had tried, backwhen he’d first come home again, being gentle and kind with Loki,and while that was appreciated, it hadn’t meshed well with Loki’sanger and annoyance. It also hadn’t been indicative of the Thorthat Loki loved, and he much preferred, as difficult as it could be,when Thor let his own annoyances come through.

Sure,it led to fights, here and there, but Loki sometimes thrived onunnecessary conflict, but always felt better when things were workedout sooner, and that tendedto led to easier, quicker resolution, when it came to the two ofthem.

“Idon’t think that angry is the word, Thor.” He answered, carefullypacking another sweater into his suitcase. “Let down? Disappointed?Those are probably more apt.”

Thorgroaned, and laid back on Loki’s bed, clearly feeling the intentionof Loki’s word choice. He couldn’t help but smirk at the sight,turning back to his closet to pack up more clothes.

“Ididn’t knowit was the same weekend. And you’ve promised not to do thisjealousy thing that you do. I know you missed me, and I have beendoing plentyto make up for that, I think.” The connotations in that were clear.Loki was glad he was facing away, so Thor wouldn’t see the reactionon his face. Yes, Thor’s way of making things up had been good,and, since everything between them was out in the open, now, they hadbeen better.Loki was particularly fond of the memory of the room in Switzerland,Thor’s hands on him, his kisses adoring, even if they had ademanding, hungry edge. Thatwouldn’t be something they would be repeating this weekend, becauseThor wouldn’t be coming along.

“But,they’ve missed me too, and this has been a tradition. You rememberthat. I know you do, because even beforeI left, you would get huffy about me going away for the weekend.”

Turningback around, Loki saw the smirk on Thor’s face, and, withoutthinking, balled his scarf up and lobbed it at him.

“Ididn’t get huffy,arsehole. I felt left out. I know it’s because all your friendsthought your prissy dancer brother wouldn’t want to go and roughit--”

Thorwas laughing, folding the scarf – badly – as he sat up on thebed. “And would you have? Sharing tents with all of them, and doingthe mud-run on Saturday, with communal showers afterwards?”

Lokihated, so very much, that Thor was right. Despite him not saying aword, he knew that Thor knew that, too. It meant that he had toconcede defeat in this particular arena. At least, in a way.

“Well,regardless? You’re the one who will be missing out, this weekend.”

Thatgot Thor’s attention. Loki schooled his face into a cool look,taking the scarf from him, and setting it in the suitcase, before heflipped it shut. Without looking at Thor, his fingers searched outthe zipper tab, and he pulled it around the suitcase while he spoke.

“AfterSwitzerland, I was thinking that it might be nice if we took the nextstep somewhere else. Outside of this house. Bruges seemed veryromantic, and the hotel we’re staying at isverynice. But, I understand. It istradition, and I wouldn’t want you to have to tell Sif that, sinceyour brother’s competition is the same weekend, you have to backout of the mud-run.”He looked up, enjoying the evident conflict on Thor’s face. “She’ssmart. She would catch on to what’s happening, and I’m not sosure she would be as accepting of your crush on me as Miss Jane was.”

“Loki.That’s not fair.”

No,it wasn’t. And Loki knew that, which was precisely why he wasplaying that card. Make Thor feel like he was missing his chance, forthe thing they had both been a bit too skittish to go for, yet. Thatwas cruel, and underhanded, and decidedly unfair, but it wasdecidedly Loki,and Thor shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Pushinghis suitcase out of the way, Loki climbed onto the bed, kneeling onit while he reached out, and tucked Thor’s hair back from his face.Again, it occurred to him that whatever he felt for Thor, now, verywell could have been dwelling deep in his chest for a long time, heldback by convention and then by hurt. It wasn’t leashed anymore,blooming from his center, out, making him feel warm in a way hehadn’t noticed he’d been missing for five years while Thor hadbeen gone to findhimself.

“It’snot. And it’s not fair that I have to get on that plane alone, thatI have to sleep in that king size bed alone, that I have to orderroom service alone, and that I, generally, have to be alonethis weekend.”

“Withyour entire dance troupe.” Thor pointed out, a smile coming to lifearound the corners of his mouth again. “Poor princess.”

“Yes.”Loki agreed, with a nod, nudging Thor so he laid back on themattress, Loki leaning over him, reaching up to tuck his own hairbehind his ear. “Poor me. I’m going to waste away without yourattention.”

Thor’slaugh was genuine, and served to light the warm inside Loki. “Ihighly doubt you will. You know I’ll be thinking of you, andreaching out when I can.”

“Iknow.” Settling down, Loki ran his fingers through Thor’s hair,spread out on the duvet under him, watching the light catch in hisblonde strands instead of his eyes when he spoke next. “Be careful,all right? I know it’s tradition, and you’re in peak physicalcondition, but Hogun got hurt, two or so years ago, when they went. Idon’t want to get a message saying you’ve broken your leg orsomething.”

“Loki...”

Thesoft, patient tone in Thor’s voice was enough to make him meet hiseyes again, taking in the way he was smiling, how at ease he was.

Nomatter what hardships came with the fact that he was, without doubt,in love with his step-brother, Loki had to admit, seeing Thor relaxedand comfortable in a way he hadn’t for more than five years was ablessing. Thor, who finally got to let go of the self-hatred he’dcarried for the way he felt about Loki, because despite the odds,Loki felt the same. Thor, who got to look at Loki, touch Loki, kissLoki, and know it wasn’t a daydream or fantasy he would feel guiltover later. He’d always been beautiful, but Loki couldn’t getenough of him like this.

“I’llbe careful. And you be careful, too.”

Lokirolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’m in much danger at a dancecompetition.”

“Well,me neither, but the sentiment stands. And have fun, will you?” Thorpointed. “But not toomuch fun. You dangled that missed opportunity in front of me, I don’twant to find out you--”

Thorhadn’t seemed to understand exactly how very much Loki wantedeverythingwith him, now. That made sense, because, since Thor had gotten back,Loki had said and done a lot to make Thor think and feel like Lokiwould never want him the way Thor wanted Loki. Thor could have thesemoments when he relapsed, when he forgot the way Loki sought out hisattention, even beforehe’dconfessed to his feelings.

Itfelt good to remind him with touches. With kisses, like the one hegave Thor to cut him off, starting off as just a ‘bequiet’peck, but grabbing hold of them both, until Loki was straddling Thor,fingers twisted in his shirt, kissing him hungrily, like he didn’thave to leave for the airport in 10 minutes.

Itmade sense that Thor was the one to stop them, and Loki had to admirehis willpower, even while he whined and tried to get his lips back toThor’s.

“You’regoing to miss your flight,” laughed Thor, quiet between the two ofthem. “If you keep going, Bruges wouldn’t have been necessary,whether I was going with you or not.”

Thatwas the blunt truth, and Loki knew it, which was the only reason heclimbed off Thor, adjusting his clothing and sliding off the bed.

“Don’tpout. You’re the one leaving me here with a tease.”

“I’mleaving and taking the tease with me.” Loki countered,double-checking that his suitcase was shut before he hoisted it fromthe bed, and looked at Thor. “It’s going to be a very long flightto Belgium.”

Gettingup from the bed himself, Thor replied, “you’ll live,” before hetook the suitcase from Loki’s hand, and left the room, heading downthe stairs to the front foyer. Loki followed, grabbing his jacketfrom where he’d hung it on his bedroom doorknob, and pulling it onas he made his way down the stairs.

“That’snot a very nice thing to say to someone who has issues about flying.”

Loki’ssuitcase set at the door, Thor snorted. “It’s just about thenicestthing I could say to someone who has issues about flying. When’syour cab picking you up?”

“5minutes.” Loki answered, tucking his cell phone into his jeans.“When’s Fandral coming by for you?”

“Anhour.”

“Andyou’re not packed.”

Thorsmiled. “Not even a little.”

Shakinghis head, Loki moved into his space again, careful this time to keepthe kiss calm, even if he lingered. “I mean it. Be careful. Don’tdo anything stupid.”

“Iwon’t.” Thor promised. “Try and have fun? Put the otherchoreographers to shame?”

Lokismiled, zipping up his jacket. “I always do.”

Thisfelt strange. More than that, it felt wrong.Had he really gotten so used to Thor being there, since he’d beenback, that leaving for a weekend competition without him felt so off?

“Good.”Thor’s hand rested against his neck, and Loki met his eyes, takingin his easy smile, but being floored by the affection in his eyes, soobvious, he would have had to of been blind to miss it. “I’llpick you up at the airport.”

Heneeded to leave. He could hear the cab pulling up in front of thehouse, and any second now his phone was going to go off with thenotification that it was there. Then the cabbie would honk, and itwould be a whole thing.

Lokineeded to leave, but not before reaching up and pulling Thor in forone more kiss. Deep, and slow, and full of promise for when they wereboth back in this house again.

“Don’tbe late.”

[wolvenfang-a]

// aaaaaaa alright i am. going to sleep now it’s 5am

[tower-girl-anon]

11th house: our ideal friends and how we are percieved in social settings.

This post will talk about the type of relationships that you like to hang out with according to the planet or sign that falls in that house, since one of the themes of this house relates to friendships and what type of person you appear to be in social events or gatherings.

As always, take it with a grain of salt, I hope it resonates with any of you and please don't copy or repost this post without giving the proper credits to the owner.

Aries/Mars in the 11th house: you tend to attract people who are athletic, energetic, driven, enthusiast or, at the very least, you enjoy to hang up with people who have this kind of energy. On the downside, you could atract people who are agressive or violent. You are the most happy when you are able to spend activities with your friends that helps you to canalize your marsian energy such as sports. With Mars in that house, depending on how well developed that energy is, people look at you either with a little bit of fear since you show an aggresive side sometimes or they admire the driven energy that you posses.

Taurus/Venus in the 11th house: you are someone who likes to hang out with caring, responsable and reliable people. Spending time with people who shares the same passions, the same hobbies like cooking, art, photography, etc, isa big bonus too. The friends that you keep close to you not only posses some of this qualities but they also are a reliable source who can provide security to you and your self-esteem in the best of the cases. For example: they always keep your secrets safe. On social events, people look at you as someone caring to others, beautifull, maybe a little reserved but trustworthy. Be mindful of being too generous that people take advantage of you and viceversa.

Gemini/Mercury in the 11th house: you like to hang out with people who are smart or, at the very least, someone with whom you can talk a lot about different topics, no matter if both of you share the same opinions or not. The most important thing for you in a friend is having a mental estimulation between the both of you. You can also atract with ease a lot of people who are naturally chatty or gosspis a lot about everything. Being the ruler of the third house (the house of school) in the eleventh, it is possible that many of the connections that you have today comes from your school days. On the other hand, you may appear chatty, smart or someone who enjoys gossiping in a social gathering.

Cancer/Moon in the 11th house: you are the nurturing and empatethic group. In social settings, or when you hang out with friends, you prefer the company of those who embody the energy of cancer, of the moon. Someone with whom you can have an emotional connection, someone with whom you can talk about your memories, your past or someone with whom you can confess any emotional problem that you are going through at the moment. In social setting, you could be seen as the mother of the group. The nurturing figure who cares about others wellbeing.

Leo/Sun in the 11th house: you're either someone who captures a lot of attention when you get out in public settings, reunions or meetings with friends, or either you are someone who enjoys meeting people who have a bright personality. Just like the sun. You enjoy spending time with friends who are not afraid of being who they really are, who are confident and spread positivity around, because that makes you feel better and viceverse. You like to make them feel better too. Be careful of atracting egoistical people though. On the other hand, with the Sun in the house, people could look up to you with the same description that I've already mentioned.

Virgo/Mercury in the 11th house: you tend to make friends with people that are responsable, hard workers, detail oriented, intelligent and health conscious, or maybe you appear that way to others. Intelligence is something that you value too because, just like the sign of Gemini, this sign is ruled by Mercury, the planet of communication. You like to make people with whom you can talk about your day to day life, your work, your health and viceversa. You like to know the same things too. You don't mind to comment or recieve comments from others when you now that they are doing it to help you.Just be careful of not being affected by people who are overly critics and wants to look smarter and viceversa.

Libra/Venus in the 11th house: you like to be friends with people who are caring, loving and put the right balance between give and take. Treating others fairly and respectfully is a crucial element that your potential friends need to have because that is what you value the most. I mean, it's like, if one day I spend a lot of time giving you confort because you need, I will really like to think that you'll be there for me in case I go through something similar. Well, we are not perfect, so be carefull with cutting people off if they don't fit in this criteria unless they really step over your boundaries despite trying to make it clear what you don't tolerate. In social spaces, people see you as loving a fair to everyone.

Scorpio/Pluto in the 11th house: those who have this aspects, you tend to connect with a small group of friends, but when you do connect with someone, you do it with all your will. You defend and protect your friends with all your might and espect the same thing from them. If someone breaks your trust or confidence, you cut them from your life, even though that hurts and transforms you deeply. Only in a few cases there is a second chance but, despite this, they don't tend to be the same because they had breaked your values of intimacy, trust and respect in a relationship. On another view, you could have a transformative time while socializing (this can be both: good and bad), maybe it is easier for you to connect with people that went through traumas or transformative experiences through life. For others, you are someone who looks either intimidating or private in a social setting but, despite this, they can not ignore the fact that there is an inner power within you.

Sagittarius/Jupiter in the 11th house: these people tend to make friends with relative ease and tend to be popular due to their ability to uplift others through their light energy and sence of humor. Honestly, there have not limit in terms of who they want to be friends with. They can be friends with people that comes from different cultures, countries, religions or beliefs. They don't care much about these things in my opinion (unless the individual has strict rules/beliefs that alows them to only meet certain types of people), because they are naturally curious about the stories they have to tell. Despite this, a sence of humor and stories/knowledge is something that these natives value in friendships.

Capricorn/Saturn in the 11th house: these individuals tend to make friends with people who are either older than them or maturer. They don't socialize much due to circumstances or because they simply don't like it, specially with people of your generation. Be careful with that. And maybe that's because you were the younger sister/cousin and had to interact with much older people so, when the moment came to play with kids of your own age, you didn't know what to do or didn't understood why they were acting so immaturely. You may come across as someone serious/mature in their interaction or responsable and enjoy talking about the older generations, their experiences through life, and struggles.

Aquarius/Uranus in the 11th house: the natural sign and planet that rules this house. The type of people you like to hang up with are those who either share the same humanitarian nature as you or have a rebellious side that they are not afraid to show or they are seen as outcasts by other people. Your friends could belong to the groups such as the LGBT or the feminist movement, but it doesn't have to be. The most important thing is that you like to make connections with people that will accept the unique qualities that you posses, your rebellious side, your humanitarian nature without judgement. In a social gathering, people could see you as rebellious or as someone who brings a unique energy to the space that it's very magnetic if you use it well.

Pisces/Neptune in the 11th house: with Neptune or Pisces in this house, it is clear that you can connect easily with people who either share the same passion as you towards espirituality or are as imaginative as you or maybe they understand you on a soul level. With these aspects, it is possible that you are able to feel the energy or the emotions of the people with whom you spend time with. The downside of this, is that you could attract energetic vampires or people who have problems with drugs or alcohol. You could even hang out with them. Be careful with this, especially if you end up having problems with addictions. On a lighter note, if you had the last problem, this can give you a compassionate look towards people who went through hard process such as addictions and rehabilitation. In a social getting, you may look dreamy, mysterious, tired or ethereal to others.

I hope you enjoyed this post.

Send you love and light.

Tower Girl Anon.

[elitemindshiphop-com]

Reposted from @viceversesforever Incredible portraits 🔥🔥🔥 Repost from @lukas.lukero Thank you 🙏🏾 • Legends never die 🎤🎶🎵🎶 charcoal drawing ✍🏻 A3 #DMX #Tupac #viceverses #drawing#charcoal#draw#blackandwhite#portraits#artwork#drawings#rap#game#legends#2pac#NY#LA#tupacshakur#hiphop#music#rip#follow#your#dreams#skills#heart#art#Lukero# https://www.instagram.com/p/CU3AVAxJTKN/?utm_medium=tumblr