#victorian slides

[poetryincostume]

The Madwoman

Aesthetic wrapper, 2020

Original gothic-inspired design , styled here with bra by Karolina Laskowska

Upholstery damask, silk ribbon, petersham ribbon, silk/steel yarn

[mermaidsirennikita]

Do you read HR taking place in America? I have a kind of a hard time reading books in that setting

I do, but there is a lot of Civil War-era content or Civil War-adjacent content (see: the many westerns that feature heroes who were... Confederates) that I don't fuck with. So you have to sift through.

Here's the thing--I was about to type out that the issues of intense racism and slavery in America at the time makes it harder to read those... But it's hypocritical. Because God knows England was enslaving people for much of (all of, if we're being realistic--slavery being abolished in the colonies doesn't mean Brits just stopped facilitating and using slave labor in 1833) the time historical romance covers. England was colonizing... all over the place... during those eras. The dukes we read about have wealth because of slavery and colonialism. That's the fucking truth. The ethical duke is as much of a fantasy as the hot duke who is one of like, 700 hot eligible dukes in England at one time.

Historical romance, no matter where or when it's set, is to a large degree fantasy. I really consider it like... thisclose to fantasy romance. Which doesn't mean we can't critique it and come to terms with it. But it gets me when I see Bonnet Brigade types railing against heroines having sex before marriage, or gay people having HEAs ("it's not realistic" lmao yeah dude those things happened sorry bye) because it's like... the backbones of this subgenre, and tbh romance at large, hinge on fantasy.

Sooooo....

All of that being said, there are two authors I read more with American historicals. One is is Beverly Jenkins, who writes historical romance entirely centered on Black characters, across history and locations--in the Reconstruction era, out West, etc. Beverly is amazing--Indigo is a classic and I'd recommend it to anyone. Very emotional, very great.

I also read Joanna Shupe, whose historicals these days are set in Gilded Age New York. The Gilded Age was an amazingly interesting era of history, even if that TV show is determined make it boring. So much wealth, excess, parties, tycoons, socialites. Joanna is another all-time author for me. Love her books.

[what-yadoking-likes]

The heisters occasionally hold ‘Slides Parties’.

The premise is very simple - any heister who wants to participate as a presenter can do so. They must prepare and present a short PowerPoint presentation on the topic of their choosing - and it can, indeed, be on absolutely ANYTHING - under 10 minutes in length, and then their captive audience are free to ask a few questions before the next presentation.

Of course, sometimes the presentations descend into chaos, because the presenter is a chaotic entity - nobody expected Duke’s presentation to be of this sort.

“Well,” Duke began, smiling broadly at his audience, “it’s so wonderful to have the opportunity to talk to you all about my passion - art!

“But I am no fool. I know not everyone shares my appreciation for paintings and sculptures.” He sighed, as if disappointed in his coworkers.

“So that’s why I thought I’d share with you my favourite - and I’m trying to use language all of you will understand - horniest art.”

He clicks the mouse, and this image appears on-screen:

“First, we have Perseus with the head of Medusa by Cellini. Lovely work, truly - but perhaps we ought to rename it Perseus with a bubble butt. I believe it was Sydney who taught me that, ah, delightful phrase.”

Sydney nodded, grinning and cackling to herself in the corner, a can of beer clasped loosely in her fingers.

“Now-” Another click -

“Does anyone know who this is?”

Immediately the heisters began shouting out various theories.

“Jesus!”

“The angel Gabriel!”

“BAIN!”

Raucous laughter, followed by a hollow beep, and: “I wish.”

The suggestions continue, until finally someone gets it.

“My next Grindr hook-up!”

“Satan-”

“Yes! This is Lucifer, the fallen angel, the devil Himself.”

“Damn,” Sokol whistled, leaning forward on his knees with his elbows, “really do wish he was next Grindr hookup. He’s a... handsome devil.”

Duke managed to only show one more picture before his time was up.

“This has all been rather... male centric so far. So, how about the Ecstasy of St Teresa? Uh, literally.”

“What,” Hoxton asked, once the uproar had somewhat died down, “err. What’s got her so...”

“She’s having a religious experience, of course,” Duke answered, barely able to contain his own laughter. “She’s having a most holy, spiritual moment, Hoxton.”

[scarletanpan]

That last post made me remember this one time in college where some girl tried to snottily correct me when I was talking about how steampunk is a goth subculture to go "Uhhh no, steampunk would be a part of punk culture, duhh" and I had to go off about victorian futurism for five minutes because two words sharing the same root means fuckall and I did not read jules vernes 20,000 leagues under the sea fifteen times as a kid to be slighted like this

[sar3nka]

Okay it looks out of place on me but kinda... good maybe... I should get more sets like this one day. Be blessed with this pic

[sochicfinds]

Antique Slide Locket, 900 Silver Large Oval Photo Pendant, Black Enamel Victorian Jewelry 1800s

[elysiuminfra]

hi anon i love you. thank you for thisi question (i just woke up) you have no idea how excited i am to talk about this. had to make a post since it didnt wanna publish ur ask :( in the ideal world AMPHIMAL (all capitals for silly) is a 14 episode 2D animated tv show (heavily inspired by gennedy tartakovsky's work - particularly with samurai jack and primal, as well as mike mignola's work on hellboy) (AND SERGIO PABLOS!!) (wait edit: AND the old animated batman movies) HOWEVER. i have had many many thoughts about its ACTUAL format as a webcomic. i think it works best in this format cause the internal dialogue is important and you'd lose that in a show (i have many many thoughts about how media format influences tone/overall storytelling) particularly i'd like to execute it as a webcomic set with unconventional format - im very inspired by indie comics such as quinn - a horror webcomic made by moby, tumblr linked here, an artist who's work ive followed for a while and who's work first piqued my interest in breaking "traditional" webcomic format. yugo limbo and mike mignola (there he is again!) are also huge inspirations. (and another webcomic im too embarrassed to say) im in love with the  idea of using the website itself as a backdrop for your visuals - it would be a mix of script, prose, intermingling with cinema-like stills as visuals - this is because traditional comics are difficult for me, i THINK in camera angles and shot layouts, not necessarily comic panels. i also plan on having annotations throughout the story, for secrets and descriptions of certain era-specific objects as fun optional facts - although when i actually put it all together on a website, this feature could be toggled. ideally it would be non-intrusive - think the note system from pentiment. the biggest inspirations i draw for AMPHIMAL though is Hellboy full stop in terms of palettes, visuals, and style. i plan on further solidifying and developing the "look" of amphimal as i do more research on victorian cultural and architecture motifs (they don't even know about the henry jekyll architecture associations) and also because i am the world's most unnecessarily detail-oriented person. my current work reflects moreso how i plan on amphimal looking when its published, with stark shadows, black shapes taking forefront, limited and striking palettes with heavy emphasis on color, shape, and object motifs. i am putting an unnecessary and frankly embarrassing amount of thought into literally every single detail (AND striving for semi-historical accuracy) (which is extremely difficult due to the lack of primary sources / bias in papers and the lack of accounts of certain aspects of victorian life, such as lgbt history and london’s underbelly of the era. particularly because many primary accounts are rife with racism, bigotry and inaccuracies - and they don’t paint a complete picture, so much of what i show WILL be speculation and not historically accurate) as for SCRIPT? behind the scenes its pretty rough - i have my charts and notes, but they're all pretty disorganized and i don't think i could share them without 1. spoiling a LOT of stuff (it doesnt differ from the original plot in any way, it just has far, far more depth into the characters - and some stuff i want to keep a secret!) 2. exposing just how deranged my note-taking skills are. amphimal currently exists only in pages and charts and key visuals i've made for myself that i MUST compile in a clean format for personal use (and sharing among those who can take peeks behind the scenes) as for key points oh boy. my favorite chapter and the one i'm most excited to write is utterson's search and first meeting with hyde. second favorite is utterson's scenes involving lanyon's death (he does die in amphimal, that i'm not changing - i thought about it at first but scrapped it) these moments show off utterson's character at key points OUTSIDE of jekyll (an absolute necessity!) - and he is, by far, my favorite protagonist out of all my projects. and i love him your honor ANYWAY ummm i dont really have much else to write other than thank u for sending this question!!! artistic format / experimentation is one of my favorite things to talk about. as for WHEN amphimal is gonna be a thing, it'll be in the future when i'm in a better living situation (and when the full amphimal theory bible is compiled - i'm obsessed with consistency between scenes and background motifs, so this will work as a reference for me once the project gets started however this will and is currently taking a LOT of research) ETA? later. possibly next year if i'm not too busy adjusting to the city im moving to. dont know yet but it'll happen. i'll make amphimal before i die promise because if i dont my spirit will never sleep peacefully

[fulltimeviking]

"your secondary research, arguments and ideas were very original and impressive and showed very thorough demonstration. you should be incredibly proud of this work this is genuinely the best i've marked of yours in three years. also i know i told you that structure is subjective and there's no right way to structure an essay but you structured this wrong and your title is very wordy lol so here's a 66"

[dkettchen]

Bungo Stray Dogs author rly just like read The Great Gatsby and was like “ah yes, this is what contemporary americans are like, yes, indeed”

[thekittyfox2999]

IT'S BEE WATSON. IT'S CANON EVERYONE SHUT UP

Victorian Halloween Costumes

[bottegapowerpoint]

William Edward Frost, Terpsichore

[garciamanuel]

Decking Patio in London A large eclectic backyard patio container garden remodel with decking and a pergola is inspired by

[crimson-revolt]

Glass Exterior in Edinburgh An illustration of a medium-sized, modern, beige, one-story home with glass façade

[ozzgin]

I'm the anon who asked if your requests are open and i got busy assignments + presentations that i almost forgot about the request but now i remembered and it's based on my dream i saw that night..

How about a vampire who lost his relic (presumably a ring) and reader happens find it and tries it on, now the vampire is all panicking because guess what? That was a betrothal relic and it has binded the vampire's soul with the one of reader. They can't pull it out/take it of.. oh well, now they are stuck and obviously the vampire hates the idea of being stuck with a pesky human but hey they are kinda stupid..? How tf they tripped on thin air? Or how they are still alive even after being food poisoned 5 times a month? Vampire is now babysitter for his human *sighs * what has he gotten himself in..

(Please add yandere elements later on, my brain stoopid but i want a hot Victorian era vampire being obsessed with me ^^ muah!)

(I'm sorry this is so lengthy TT)

Yandere! Vampire x Reader

Featuring a ridiculously lucky Reader who constantly manages to escape a Vampire's assassination attempts. Did someone order a supernatural edition of enemies to lovers?

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, mentions of stalking, romcom

[Monster masterlist] [Original works masterlist]

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" your friends gasp in unison, eyes fixated on the fallen ceramic pot that scarcely missed you, now laying shattered at your feet. You laugh reassuringly and wave your hand in dismissal. "It's the fifth time it happens today. Maybe there's a storm coming?"

From within the shadows, menacing eyes glowing red follow your movements. "Damn it!" The mysterious man curses under his breath. He stares enviously at the bulky ring on your finger. The ring bearing his Family signet, where part of his very soul resides. It has stayed with him for centuries, and somehow, to his utmost shame, he lost it. By the time he rushed back to retrieve it, you were carelessly sliding it down your finger. He wanted to strangle the life out of you right then and there, but he felt it: the immediate surge of contractual power, dominating his will and holding him back from breaking your bones. "It's a little tacky, isn't it?" your friend remarked. You nodded in agreement and tried to remove it, but the metal band tightened around your skin, painfully constricting your digit. It was stuck. It was too late.

Now he has to rely on cheap trickeries like this one. Sure, he may not be able to directly plunge his fangs into your neck, but the bonding curse does not shield you from "accidents", you see. It would be a real shame if that flower pot was to land straight into your head, ending you instantly and thus breaking the connection with him. Except you simply refuse to die. A mystery, a paradox, one that enrages him to no end. It's almost as if the ring is bringing you fortune at the cost of his misery.

"Have you had any luck removing that ugly thing?" the person standing next to you mentions. The vampire lord grits his teeth at the blasphemous words. This is what's become of him: a deceitful buffoon, having to sit and listen to his inheritance being mocked relentlessly. He holds back the urge of shouting that thousands have bled to death in order to forge that magnificence. "Not at all", you respond idly. "I tried taking it to a jeweler, and she said she could try to cut it, but she ended up having a heart attack right in the middle of it. She didn't even look that old, maybe it runs in her family?"

Unbelievable. The thought of reclaiming his relic haunts every second of his day, to the point he's become your shadow. Stalking your every move, your every breath, observing his prey and waiting for an opportunity to strike. He can already picture that pathetic face of yours, twisting in pain, begging for-...huh. Well, look at that, you're reading one of his favorite books. Perhaps you do have a little taste, after all. It won't save you from your terrible fate, but he might skip the prolonged torture.

There's plenty of quotes out there about knowing your enemy in order to guarantee your victory, though one might wonder where the limit of such knowledge resides. Or what counts as useful to begin with. The vampire lord is presently wondering about this very aspect, as he mouths your coffee order from a distance. Less sugar, huh? You did mention losing your sweet tooth. He shakes his head indignantly. Absolutely not! The throb of his heart is fueled by raw hatred and nothing else. One of days he will savour your demise.

Your ridiculous luck might just end today. You've taken a shortcut on your way back home, and didn't expect a shady, burly man to block your exit. A perverted grin stains his face as he approaches you, twiddling with his pocket knife. "Alone at this hour?" You frown and try to find a way out, but the man suddenly begins to heave and convulse before your eyes, grasping at his chest as the skin shrivels and dries. He collapses at your feet, body wilted as if it's been emptied of its vitality. The Vampire Lord clicks his tongue.

To think he'd rush to rescue his sworn enemy, a pitiful mortal like you. He didn't even get the chance to consider the aftermath. You stare at the stranger, confused but observant. Pale skin, crimson eyes, unnaturally sharp canines...and the fact he just drained a living being into a bloodless corpse: everything hints to one possibility. "Are you by any chance a vampire?" you find yourself mumbling. "You must've graduated from Harvard with those deduction skills", he responds sarcastically.

Everything else unfolds in a haze. Wasn't he planning to kill you and retrieve his ring? When the hell did he offer to walk you home to avoid more creeps? Why is he twirling his hair sheepishly whenever you praise his demonic powers? Oh, but it gets worse: why did he suddenly feel the urge to kiss you before returning to his cursed lair? Why did he accept your invitation to spend the night at your place instead? One moment ago, he was doing his best to curse you off this Earth. Now he's tugging stray strands of hair away from your blushing, whining face, asking you if it hurts. Damned human.

"How did you know I like this? Have you been stalking me?" you joke, nudging your undead boyfriend and setting the gift aside. "More or less", he confesses with a yawn. He recalls all that time spent dutifully spying on your oblivious self. "You know, a human like you shouldn't be able to dodge death like that." He turns to you and scans your features. Then, abruptly embarrassed, he ruffles your hair to block you from noticing his blush. "I suppose my failure was the better outcome. It's not too bad, having you around."

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Nerd!Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Reader Under the Influence of an Aphrodisiac, Somnophilia, Blowjob, Slight Nipple Play, Slight Fingering, Penetrative Sex, Mean!Miguel, Slightly Perverted!Miguel

A/N: Requested!

Summary: There is only one man you can turn to in your time of need

Word Count: 3.2K (Barely Edited)

Fuck!

You almost miss your landing, having to hold extra tight to the fire escape railing to not fall. Your breath is ragged, and you never realized how hard it was to breath through your mask until now. You stumble as you step off of the railing and onto the landing, taking a lungful of air as you reach behind your head and rip off your mask. Your steps are clumsy as you walk towards the window, your body burning up as you grasp the window ledge and push it up with a grunt. God, I told that idiot to start locking his windows, you think as you slide through. 

It’s completely dark inside, the only bit of moonlight being blocked by your figure. But even then, you can see the outline of posters and figurines on the wall. You can even see the outline of his body laying in his bed. You let out a heavy sigh, making your way over to him. His bed creaks as you kneel on top of it, the soft mattress sinking under your weight. Miguel’s sheet is half-way off his body, probably kicked off during the night-time heat. His chest falls steadily, his whole front being exposed to you as he sleeps on his back. He mumbles something, sleepy whispers leaving his barely parted mouth as his hand comes up to scratch at his naked chest. You can feel your skin heat up at the sight of the exposed skin, seeing the way coarse hair spans over tan muscles. You feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. 

You don’t really think before your palms land flat onto his skin. It’s slightly cool under your hands, but it does nothing to kill the heated flush over your own skin. It only makes it worse. A tortured sound leaves your lips as you rake your hands down his body, ghosting over the skin of his chest and stomach until they stop at his thighs. Why are his boxers so tight around his thighs? You take a shaky breath in, shifting your weight as your hands travel up slightly until they’re right over the outline of his soft dick. Your hands shake as you massage him over the thin fabric of his underwear; have they always shook like that?

You can feel him hardening under your hands, and your head snaps up when he lets out a soft moan. He’s still asleep, that steady rhythm still moving his chest. But his brows are furrowed, lips parted slightly. It makes something in your stomach twist in fear and excitement at the idea of being caught. You let out another breath as you drop your attention to his semi, your hand gently guiding his cock out through the hole of his boxers. Even though he’s not fully hard yet, you can see the beginning bulge of a vein running up the underside of his cock. The length of him just barely being supported by the hold you have on him. 

Your mouth feels dry at the sight. He’s big, and he isn’t even fully hard yet. You try to chase the dryness in your throat away with a swallow, but it only makes more saliva pool on your tongue. You sneak a peek up again, finding him in the same pose from a minute ago. You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lean down, only looking down for a second as you guide your mouth over him. Your bottom lip brushes over his tip, but you turn your head to the side as you lean further down. Your tongue darts up, licking the length just above your hand as you make your way back up to his tip. Miguel’s breath hitches, your eyes looking towards him. His head is thrown to the side, but he doesn’t seem to be waking up. 

Good.

You hum against him, tongue flicking at his slit. Your hand moves up and down him slowly, feeling him get harder in your hold before you wrap your fingers around his tip. You suck lightly, eyes fluttering when the first salty beads of precum melt on your tongue. You can feel a dull throb beginning at your core, your body craving Miguel’s addicting taste. Your body needs it. A small moan falls from your lips as you take him deeper, your hands falling away to sit on his thighs as you slowly move your head up and down his length. The heavy warmth in your mouth is comforting, and the pleasure of having him in your mouth travels straight to your cunt. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you focus on moving your head, gagging slightly when you force him a little too far down your throat. But you’re caught off guard when a heavy hand falls on your head, forcing Miguel’s cock down your throat entirely. 

You squeal, quickly turning into a gag as your nose meets the coarse hair at the base of his cock. The hand keeps you there and you snap your eyes open. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes stare down at you, sharp crimson glinting. His other hand is stretched out to his side, coming into view in a second, the frames of his glasses pinched between his fingers before he slips them on. You moan around him, trying to communicate the uncomfortable pressure pressing on the back of your throat, but it only makes Miguel hiss out in pleasure. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling your head up before pushing it back down to the base. 

“Fucking knew it,” he breaths harshly, repeating the movement until he’s controlling how fast you suck his dick. “Thought I wouldn’t find out it was you, huh?”

You whine around his cock, mind too hazy on the smell of his skin and the feel of his dick in your mouth to process what he’s talking about. Miguel’s head rolls, his hips beginning to thrust into your mouth as he keeps your head still. You can feel tears pricking at your lower lash line, wet gags escaping your throat with each of his thrusts. Your hands bunch up the fabric of his boxers, eyes staring up at him. You can feel yourself dripping, praying it doesn’t seep through your suit. Miguel thrusts into your mouth a few more times before he pulls you off of his cock, allowing you to take a large breath in and sputter. Spit wets the entirety of your chin and lips, and you gasp as warm liquid splatters on your cheek. Your eyes close instinctively, your ears picking up Miguel’s low groan and labored breathing. Your eyes slowly open, closing quickly when his cock slaps against your cheek.

It twitches against your face, softening only slightly. When you open your eyes fully, Miguel is sitting up. He’s looking down at you, eyes taking in your face and the all too familiar hero costume sticking to your body. He has a knowing look in his eyes, and you yelp when he grabs you. Your positions are switched quickly, your body bouncing once it hits the bed. Springs squeaking under your weight. You can feel Miguel’s body pressing against your back, his hand snaking to your front and pressing up on your abdomen until your ass is forced against him. You whine as you feel his cock pressing against your ass, and you turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him. His glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he studies your body. Or rather, your suit.

‘So, how does the suit work?” he asks, hands running down your sides. You shiver at the contact, pressing yourself further against him. “How do you put it on? A hidden zipper, maybe?”

You gasp as his hand suddenly and roughly cups your clothed cunt, the heel of his hand pressing against you. You’re so warm there. “Or is it something you have to slip on? Gotta get naked before you can put it on, right? It certainly doesn’t feel like you have any panties on.”

You're at a loss of words, shaking your head and trying to grind against his hand. You didn’t know how desperately you need that pressure against your sex until he put it there. Miguel chuckles, cooing at you. His body presses against your back as he leans forward, warm breath hitting your ear. “I saw you on the news earlier, got sprayed with something, didn’t you? You smell so good.”

Another whine passes your lips when he takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. You smell sweet, delicious, like sex and candy. His free hand slips up to your chin, forcing your head up. You grind into his hand desperately as his warm tongue licks up your throat. The saliva is sticky on your skin, but you just wished he could lick you everywhere. Maybe it would help your body cool down. Miguel chuckles against your skin again, pulling away. 

“God, so needy.” He laughs, pulling his hands away from you completely and loving the way you pathetically fall limp onto his bed. “Don’t tell me it was an aphrodisiac or something.”

You huff against his pillow, trying to back your body more into him. It makes him laugh louder, meaner. His hand comes to wrap around the base of his cock, slapping it against your ass. “Is this what you need? You need a nice, big cock to make it all better? Pathetic.”

Despite his words, he’s smiling. He’s wanted this for so long. It’s only a plus that you, his best friend that he’s been tugging his dick to, is also one of the hottest superheroes in Nueva York. It’s like a fucking wet dream. But here you are, in his room with a desperate need for your pussy to be stuffed to the brim. How could it get any better than this?

“I- Miggy, please,” you breathe out, a flush covering your cheeks at his dirty words. Miguel coos, his hands returning to rub up and down your sides.

“It’s okay, baby. I promise I’ll help it feel better. I’ll make it feel so good.”

You gasp when you feel his hands at the nape of your neck, a loud tear filling the room as he rips your suit down your back. “Hope you got extra at home, cariño.”

It takes a few rough tears to completely expose your backside, Miguel pushing the torn edges away as you pull your arms and legs out of them. He groans at the sight of you: your naked body laying in front of him as the tattered remains of your suit lay around you. Your skin is so warm under his touch, like you’re running a fever. And you’re so responsive, mewling and shivering as he rubs your sides slowly. You look so small under him, so perfect. Your back arches when his hands snake to your front, grasping your breasts. You gasp loudly, your hands pressing your body up from the bed, standing on all fours. 

Miguel leans to lay on top of you, pinching and flicking at your horribly hard and sensitive nipples. His teeth are sharp against the lobe of your ear, soothing the sting with kitten licks. You whine when one of his hands leaves your breasts, feeling Miguel twist his head to the side slightly. 

“Down, girl,” he commands, a smile evident in his tone as his hand presses on the center of your upper back and your body buckles. You let out a puff of air as your chest hits the mattress again, your hands sliding out from under you. “Good girl, that’s a good spider.”

You huff at the teasing, glaring at him from over your shoulder. He chuckles at your expression, ignoring you as his hand slips away from your chest and ventures further down your body. You stiffen as his fingers stop just above your clit, your thighs aching to close. With a slight stretch, Miguel’s middle finger skims your bud, your hips bucking. Miguel hums in contemplation, his hand moving away despite your whine of frustration. His hands come up to rub your ass, one of his hands moving further down until his fingers are playing with the sloppy mess of your cunt. You sigh in relief, your back arching further. 

“God, you’re so wet. Is this all for me, baby?” He coos, watching the way his fingers get completely drenched from a few swipes at your folds. His curiosity gets the better of him, plunging two thick fingers through your throbbing hole. You groan, and Miguel slaps your ass to shut you up. 

A wet squelch echos the room when he curls his fingers. As he slowly drags his fingers out, your walls clench in a futile attempt to keep them inside of you, a sad pop coming from your hole when his fingers pull out completely. Miguel holds his fingers up, studying the slight glint of arousal against the moonlight. It drips down his fingers, and Miguel licks the trail up to prevent a further mess. He moans at the taste, sweet and heady. He sucks the rest into his mouth, tongue working around his fingers until they come up clean. He uses the same fingers to smear saliva over the head of his cock, hand dragging it down as he tugs at himself. He shifts behind you, aligning himself until the head of his cock presses against your tiny hole.  

“Gonna make it all better now,” Miguel whispers into the air before he thrusts his hips forward. His low groan is drowned by your loud screech, your walls stretching rapidly to accommodate the sudden intrusion. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you bite down on the pillow, the tip of his cock pressing right against your cervix. 

Miguel curses when your walls pulsate, molding to his cock. His teeth grit as he looks down, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he watches the way your hole moves as he pulls out slowly. Your hole completely melts around his tip, stretching wide as he suddenly fills you to the brim again. Miguel pushes his glasses up again as he smiles, repeating the movement. You moan loudly despite the pillow in your mouth, your hands grabbing at the sheets to stabilize yourself. Miguel’s hands grab at your ass again, kneading it in his hands as he begins thrusting in a steady rhythm. You melt into the bed, eyes fluttering with each snap of his hips. 

A sweat builds on Miguel’s face as he moves his hips, mouth open in a moan each time your walls clench around him in thanks. His glasses slide down his face again, refusing to stay in place no matter how many times he pushes them up. He tires of it quickly, cursing as he rips them off his face and throws them somewhere near your head. His hands leave your ass, coming up to your hands. His palms are against the tops of your hands, his fingers connecting between yours despite the tight hold you have on the sheets. His chest pressed against your back, his forehead pressed against the side of your head as his thrusts speed up. You choke on a moan, your body jolting upward with the force. 

“That’s it, taking it like a good, needy slut,” Miguel praises, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, a stark contrast to the way he punishes your dripping cunt. Your walls tighten embarrassingly at his words, making him laugh breathlessly. 

The room is deafening with the sound of his pelvis hitting against your ass, his balls slapping at your clit when he goes flush against you. It all mixes together to form the wet squeals from your cunt, your mind going dizzy from it all. Miguel’s hand pulls away from yours, coming up to your throat to force your face away from the pillow. A wet circle surrounded by teeth marks stains his pillow, more abstract lines showing where his cum has rubbed off of your face. He turns your face towards him, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip before pulling you into a heated kiss. His tongue licks at your teeth, tangling with your tongue. Your face presses more into him with each of his thrusts, and you moan pathetically in his mouth as the rubber band inside of you snaps. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you gush around his cock, body breaking in an almost uncomfortable arch as your body twitches. Miguel groans into your mouth as your walls grow tighter and tighter around him, his thrusts getting desperate as he tries to thrust in and out of them. He rips his mouth away from yours as you go to collapse on the bed, your muscles jumping from your orgasm. Miguel’s hand travels to your clit, rubbing in fast circles that overstimulate you. You gasp and cry, your walls confused as they pulsate quickly and trigger another orgasm in seconds. Your hands shake as they let go of the pillow, traveling down to hit and tug at Miguel’s arm. 

“T-t’much. Miggy, t’much,” you sob, your muscles prickling. 

Miguel hisses at you, removing his arm to hold your waist as he bounces you back on his cock rapidly before he stills. His groan is animalistic as his cock twitches inside of you, painting you in white seed. You moan like an animal in heat as the warmth fills you, your entire body collapsing on the bed in an exhausted pile. You only whine slightly when Miguel gives you a few slow pumps of his cock to ride out his orgasm, forcing his cum deeper inside of you before pulling out. You sigh as you close your eyes, that overbearing warmth that was once consuming your body finally dying away. Miguel lets out ragged breaths over you, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face before squinting his eyes and looking for the outline of the glasses he threw. When he finds them, he slides an arm down his face to get rid of pesky sweat before putting them on, his eyes falling down to your abused cunt just in time to see a bead of cum slip from your hole. 

He lets out a heated sigh, turning his head to look for the shirt he discarded on the floor before he went to bed. He reaches for it, balling it in his hands before swiping it against your cum soaked folds. You mewl at the coarse fabric rubbing against your sensitive pussy, but Miguel is too tired to care as he cleans his mess and throws the shirt to the floor again. The front of his boxers has a slight wet ring around his cock, but he makes no move to take them off as he stuffs his softening cock back into its confines. His hand rubs up your back before he moves to lay down besides you, pulling tattered parts of your suit out from under him and onto the floor. Exhaustion fans his body as he turns to his side and pulls your limp body into his chest. 

“Need to talk about this Spider-Woman shit in the morning,” he mumbles into your hair as he closes his eyes. You only hum, shifting into his warmth. 

Yeah, definitely.

Nasty! Dirty!