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mstase · 3 months

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DESCRIBING THE MOON SIGNS

some of these are based on the people I’ve met, so you may not resonate with some of it. there are also probably other aspects in your birth chart that say otherwise, so please read this with a grain of salt.

♨️ aries moon - such people have a subtle yet sharp look, often with a prominent feature like a wide forehead or a generally strong build. their fiery emotions are written all over their face, and you can spot their short fuse from a mile away. they’re not the type to bottle things up; it’s more like they need to let it out, erupting like a volcano. these folks are impulsive, prone to sudden outbursts, but surprisingly, they don’t hold onto grudges—they move on as fast as they flare up. they tend to have mood swings, being all emotional one minute and totally chill the next. there’s this childlike energy about them—they get hyped up easily and are full of passion. but just like kids, they can be pretty immature when it comes to handling their feelings. when they were young, they might have fought a lot due to their impatient nature and tendency to react quickly and get frustrated, but they eventually grow out of it. i know some aries moon peeps who get physical when they can’t calm down like throwing stuff, kicking around, or yelling and screaming to let out that frustration.

🍥 taurus moon - they’re really laid-back to be around, always giving off a calming vibe. picture doe eyes and soft, prominent cheek, kind of like a bambi. these individuals are typically grounded and don’t easily get irritated, but they know when to assert their boundaries. they prefer doing their own thing and steer clear of drama. however, they can be quite stubborn and once they’re fixated on something, it’s hard to sway them. emotions tend to linger with them for a long time because they manage them steadily and slowly. one thing about them: they despise being rushed. like typical taureans, they take their time with things and enjoy a slower pace. when they feel emotionally unsettled, they seek comfort, even if it’s not always the healthiest option, it helps them escape. they thrive in cozy, gentle environments, feeling most at ease when they’re at home. quite possessive people and can come across as controlling at times, especially with those they like; they tend to be fond of physical touch.

🗣️ gemini moon - they have really expressive eyes that light up when something catches their interest. always cracking jokes and endlessly curious, they’re a blast to be around. a bit scattered sometimes, but they’re great at keeping a conversation going. sharp as a tack, they might seem like a clown sometimes, but they’re actually deep thinkers. they are prone to mood swings; their minds are constantly buzzing with a million thoughts, which also impacts their mood. however, they don’t really express or dwell on these emotions much because their minds are wrapped up in their interests, which can make them come across as emotionally closed off. at other times, they tend to rationalize their emotions rather than genuinely feeling them. these people get extremely bored easily, constantly needing mental stimulation. hence, they have a need to always ask questions, to know everything and understand how things work, in order to keep their minds busy. they could be the type who has trouble sleeping because their minds won’t quiet down, and the same goes for their mouth.

🦀 cancer moon - very emotionally receptive, they can easily read and understand others just as much as they crave understanding for their own feelings. they feel things deeply and take it all to heart, often needing space to process. naturally nurturing, they care very deeply and want it to be acknowledged. they might be the one looking out for their siblings or the ’mom’ figure in their friend circle. when upset, they can be passive-aggressive, but most of the time, they keep their pain to themselves. their heightened sensitivity makes them get hurt more easily than others, which is why they sometimes come off as defensive. these people have a hard time moving on from the past and like to reminisce a lot. they remember every single thing, the good and the bad stuff people did to them, and when they’re not feeling right, they tend to hold onto grudges.

⚜️ leo moon - they are all about expressing themselves creatively, typically through singing and/or dancing. they are incredibly generous and always there for the people they cherish. however, i’ve noticed they can struggle with self-esteem, leading them to seek validation and acceptance. they have fragile egos and are extremely sensitive to criticism, often feeling challenged in their accomplishments or goals, even when that’s not the case. when they feel validated, they bring good vibes, filling up the room with warm, loving, and super enthusiastic energy—that’s just how they give back. they are prone to dramatic displays of emotions, often without realizing it, due to their naturally expressive and fierce nature. i’ve also noticed that they tend to talk a lot about themselves and may unintentionally interrupt or overlap in other people’s conversations. this can make them appear conceited, but they are just really eager to share a lot about themselves.

🔍 virgo moon - they’re super helpful, sometimes a bit too much, and very responsible. it’s like they think no one else is gonna sort stuff out, so they always step up as the “fixer” even when it’s not really their problem. they’re just really big on analyzing everything to get to the bottom of things. they can often seem all critical and constantly nitpicking, but really, it’s their way of helping you improve and showing they care. they notice every tiny detail, and if something’s off, it bugs them big time—total perfectionists. they’re pretty hard on themselves, likely due to early expectations and responsibilities weighing on them. they worry a ton, even about the small stuff, sometimes to an unhealthy level of obsession. they need a lot of alone time to process these thoughts, as they’re highly sensitive to their surroundings, which doesn’t quite help with their anxious tendencies. they can be self-conscious and prefer to keep their emotions in check, often analyzing their surroundings to gauge if it’s safe enough to express how they feel.

🧁 libra moon - these people are easy to hang out with—chill, laid-back, and down-to-earth. they prefer to keep things peaceful, so they can be somewhat passive and struggle to say no because they dislike upsetting people, which heavily impacts how they feel about themselves. confrontations aren’t their thing either, and setting boundaries isn’t their strong suit. they value fairness, detest any kind of injustice, and adhere to their morals. they’re open-minded, always looking at things from different angles, which makes people feel comfortable talking to them about anything. (they are also great listeners). they can be overly concerned about how they appear as they have a strong need to feel ”pretty” and liked. when decisions need to be made, they’re very indecisive and tend to let their friends choose for them. they dislike aggression and are put off by unnecessary meanness, as they themselves keep their less pleasant emotions in control without necessarily suppressing them. most people i’ve met with this have good facial harmony and are pleasing to look at.

🦂 scorpio moon - they might not seem like they’re paying attention, but believe me, they’re tuned in. you’ll be amazed by the random stuff they pick up just from quietly observing things and people. sometimes they don’t even have to actively watch; they just get it with one look, seeing through the facade because they operate similarly, like hiding behind that secretive and mysterious wall that they cling onto. they have zero tolerance for dishonesty, and the ones i’ve met with this are extremely blunt. nothing gets past them; they can sniff out lies or insincerity from a mile away. like all water signs, they’re super sensitive but get triggered easily. oh, and they can hold a grudge forever. they’ll remember what you did to them five years ago and still think you haven’t changed. they might seem chill on the outside, but inside, there’s a whirlwind of intense emotions that can erupt suddenly. they probably struggle with talking about their feelings and, with their secretive nature, you’ll never really know what’s going on with them.

🎃 sagittarius moon - adventurous folks who are always down for a good time, even if it gets them into trouble. they find optimism and humor in everything, so it’s pretty easy to lighten up their mood. they’re strong-willed and passionate about their feelings, not holding back when they speak their mind. sometimes they crack jokes at the wrong time or in a way that might offend—it’s just their impulsive nature. despite that, they’re incredibly cheerful and goofy, always ready to laugh and spread their enthusiastic energy. sometimes they can come off as ’know-it-alls’ without trying to be arrogant; they’re just super into their optimistic wisdom. many of them may have travelled a lot growing up or just liked to wander outside instead of staying indoors—the type who were always out exploring the city. they dislike uptight, dependent people; they need someone who can loosen up and loves freedom as much as they do. being tied down in any way is their worst nightmare, so good luck trying to control them.

💼 capricorn moon - these people can keep their cool even in tough situations. they’re not into big emotional displays and often come off as closed off or shy. it takes them a while to open up because they don’t think it’s necessary. although they are not unemotional; in fact, they care and love very deeply but are more private about it. they probably grew up in a household where showing emotions was restricted, or they had to grow up fast due to responsibilities. they might also have a hard time showing vulnerability and are super protective of themselves. they’re incredibly self-reliant and independent and sometimes feel guilty about asking for help. they give the best advice, but don’t count on it to cheer you up because they’re all about logic and practicality. sometimes, they keep their problems to themselves because they don’t like feeling like a burden to anyone, or they simply feel like no one cares.

🌀 aquarius moon - constantly feeling misunderstood, they feel like people talk more than they know. are humanitarian, but at the same time, they hate people. they are highly observant and can naturally grasp people’s minds and behaviors. they cherish their independence and personal space, which means they don’t do well with clingy people. consequently, they keep most people, including friends, at arm’s length. these people are pretty good at hiding their emotions. they aren’t likely to be very grand in expressing how they feel, which is why they can sometimes come across as detached. at times, they just process their emotions differently. i see them as being more rational and logical in their approach. also, they may find it challenging or uneasy to cope with deep feelings of vulnerability. very super accepting of people because they’ve been there themselves—being the odd one out. intelligent people can sometimes be very stubborn and think they are always right.

🐟 pisces moon - they are very empathetic and compassionate, making them great listeners. however, they often feel emotionally overwhelmed because they easily absorb other people’s pains and problems. sometimes, they struggle to understand and express their own emotions due to their impressionable nature. highly sensitive to their surroundings, they pick up on every subtle detail that others often miss, which can be overwhelming. they also find themselves easily drained in busy environments, constantly absorbing the emotions and energies around them. therefore, they require ample downtime in peaceful, quiet settings to recharge. they can feel like their needs get ignored and that they end up giving way more than they get back. one thing about them, though, is they tend to be very passive to the point where they can easily be taken advantage of, which is something they need to work on to build more assertion. the people i’ve met with this moon were exceptionally talented, whether in art, writing, or any other form of expression.

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kombuuuu · 1 year

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Miles 42 headcanons?

no one asked but i’ll deliver !!

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader random headcanons

also a lot of snippets :)

You/Reader: Blue

Miles Morales: Purple

Mama Rio/Rio Morales: Pink

Uncle Aaron/Aaron Morales: Orange

Random/stranger: Black

—

gift giving love language duhhh

Will have you walk with him through malls and whatever you look at for a second too long he buys

You don’t catch on until you’re both eating at a nice restaurant, absentmindedly staring at some plant when a lull in conversation happens.

He purchases the plant.

“Fuck you mean I can’t buy it?”

“Sir, the plants aren’t for sale, this is a dining establishment.”

“Establish the fact I’m gettin’ that plant.”

“Sir—“

50 bucks down and a plant 🆙

He will damn right die if you refuse him. He’ll get all grumpy and pouty when you say he should save for a house, not for you.

convinced you just get shy when bought things (you do).

is even more motivated to buy things

“Miles, baby, you need to save up. Not spend on me!”

“This would look so good on you, Ma.”

“Are you listening??”

“Fuck, and this.”

“Oh my god.”

gets so jealous it’s unbelievable

but only when someone goes too far with you

it’s like 1–100 real quick

he’s not usually the prowling type (ha)

but when someone pushes the line he loses his shit

other than that he’s a supportive bbg all the way

“Wanna go home with me, butterface?”

“Fuck you just say?”

“Nothing homie just get outta here.”

“Say that shit again ‘homie’.”

“Chill the fuck out. Let the lady speak for herself.”

“I’ll fucking speak for my girl all I want, homeboy.”

maybe got a liiiiittle bit of an anger issue

guy went home with a broken nose and a missing tooth

better hope he can afford fill ins

he would never get mad at you though

he gets frustrated you don’t listen sometimes, but it’s never to the point of anger

feel like he has the patience of a fucking SAINT

calm and collected baby u know the deal

“Mami, we gonna have a problem?”

“”

“Didn’t think so.”

a SWEETHEART at times

stand by him being raised right

mama rio taught him to be a romantic

wanted him to take after his dad

so flowers and gifts and chocolates

followed by lovin of any kind

probably a baby for affection but doesn’t show it

so when you get all emotional about being gifted roses for the first time

and hug him and smother him

give him stupid little kisses all over

he’s fainting

poor boy doesn’t know love like u show him

“Baby, are these for me?”

“Yeah, Chiquita. They okay?”

“Wh… They’re perfect.”

“Are you cryin’? I can return ‘em.”

“No! No, no, don’t do that.

I love them, C’mere.”

when you guys get rlly comfortable, like a year and some dating, he ends up getting more chatty

willingly talking w you for hours

feels like you’re the only person he can rlly do that with

rambles so rarely that you kind of just sit in awe when it happens

doesn’t catch himself until he’s trying to name your future kids

“I’ll marry you one day, we’ll have like two, three kids. Get all nice an cozy.

You want a boy or girl? I kinda want both. Definitely not girl first, never having a girl without a brother to protect ‘er.

You’d be such a good Mami.

What’d you wan’ name ‘em? I have a few ideas—“

“..”

“But you could choose the girl cause I don’t know any pretty names. And i’ll choose—“

“..”

“You gon’ let me keep goin?”

“I love your voice.”

“Tranquila, mami.”

Takes you to every family event he ever has

sits you regularly with Rio and Aaron

they insist you call them uncle and ma

you do, obviously

miles doesn’t need to meet your family if you don’t want him to, but if he ever does he’s totally suave with them

like weirdly smooth

able to get on ur carers good side quick

when you meet his extended family they’re just as loving

his whole family is this bright dash of colour

and you fit right the fuck in

“¡Oh, hija estás preciosa!”

“Dice la estrella de la fiesta!”

“You flatter me, Hija.”

“Miles, come get your girl.”

“You look nice too, Uncle Aaron.”

“..Thanks, kid.”

“Hey Mami, havin’ fun?”

“Aight, I’m out.”

when you find out he’s the prowler you’re not really shocked

he’s hella nervous to tell you and kinda puts it off for a while

as long as you’re not in harms way, nothin matters, yeah?

the guilt eats him alive

he’s already lost so much, if he doesn’t do things right with you, then loses you too

he’d probably lose himself

so he tells you

“The Prowler?”

“Yeah.”

“The.. Panther guy I keep seeing on the news-?”

“Mm.”

“Miles are you—

..—Are you killing people?”

“Mami, it’s not like that—“

“oh my god.”

“These men— I kill,”

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

“,They’re bad, you understand.”

“Miles..”

“[Name]. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.. Yeah I understand.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“…”

“Are you mad.”

“I’m not happy.”

“Okay.”

you’re kind of devastated he’s killing people

but you eventually get it

like it takes a while

say a month or so

but you forgive quick

i mean, who knows what those men are doing, right?

(ur delulu but it’s ok)

he lets you have your space but talking with mama rio when she realises your absence knocks some sense into him

mans is going to GROVEL

he will fucking beg on his damn knees

knocks on your door and is already kneeling

will plead with you to come back to him

like i said a whole ass romantic

you know what’s romantic? a man who can get on his knees

he will suffocate you in gifts and affection

oh you like (insert sanrio esc character) ? look over there at that lifesize plushie woahhhh wonder who that’s forrrrrr

“Hello?”

“Mami, don’t close the door.”

“Miles, go home.”

“And please stop kneeling, the floor is dirty.”

“I’m not leaving ‘til you hear me out.”

looooong sigh

“Okay, fine— whatever, come inside. You have two minutes.”

“God, I missed you. You’re so beautiful Chiquita.”

“Three minutes.”

You talk it out easy, he’s a real smooth talker when he wants to be

“Okay Miles, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

“Yeah, Ma. See you soon.”

“Wh—.. What is that?”

“Ohhh…”

“Why the fuck is it so big?”

“It said “Life Size” on the site? I was thinking like two feet tall.”

“You bought that?”

“Yeah.. I was thinkin’ you wouldn’t let me in. Would have to bribe you.”

“…That’s really cute.”

Annnnnd that’s all i can come up with i’ll probably do more later :P

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #rio morales #uncle aaron #aaron morales #into the spider verse

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obsessedwhyyes · 15 days

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A Sound Hypothesis

Summary: Inexperienced in the ways of love, you often find yourself labelled an overthinker. But then again, you are a scientist. When your incredibly beautiful travelling companion proposes a night you'll never forget, suddenly you're left wondering, are you really ready for this? Ever the scientist, you propose an experiment, and get more than you bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4762 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, making out, oral sex (giving and receiving), hand job, cock worship, blowjob and handjob instruction (ie. Astarion teaches you how to pleasure him).

A/N: Can't believe this got to nearly 5k words, good lord. Actual smut comes in half way through, but it's still rather spicy before then. Also, writing handjobs is hard.

The events of the night prior felt like a dream, yet you remembered each moment vividly.

“I’m beginning to like the whole package, honestly,” he had purred, “and you clearly like me too, so I was thinking…”

You looked into his eyes as he gazed confidently, hungrily into yours. There was only him in this moment. Well, him and the quickened pulse of your heart pounding in your ears. You were certain he could hear it.

“We could take an evening to ourselves. Get to know each other a little more intimately.”

But you were struck with a hit of nerves then. You had lived a sheltered life before your abduction. A wizard and a scholar, your pursuits had been in the sciences and that of perfecting your craft, rather than in stolen moments of lust with beautiful strangers. Not to say you hadn’t experienced a few stolen kisses, however. But to give oneself entirely to another - that was a very different, much more intimidating affair. Yet there was no denying the spark that flickered between the two of you as you spent your days and evenings together, and that spark ignited a growing ache within you that lingered each night you retreated to your bedroll.

“I want to, Astarion. Gods, I really want to, but I’m…”

You hesitated and tore your eyes from him; fiddled with your fingers for a moment.

“You’ve never done this before,” he finished, causing you to look up suddenly from your busying hands.

“I had my suspicions. I’d have already bedded you twice over otherwise.”

You could only laugh, not only at the sheer audacity of his remark, but because of course he knew. Gods, he could probably smell the inexperience on you from a mile away.

“It’s your decision, of course. Should you wish to keep things light between us, we’ll end our evenings together as friends. If you decide you want a little more, however–”

He stepped closer to you - close enough to feel his cool breath on your skin and smell the freshness of his cologne.

“I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering delicately where your neck meets the line of your jaw. He was playing you like a fiddle, and you knew it. But gods, if his tune wasn’t a siren’s song in the night. You wanted nothing more than to dance to it.

And then he kissed you.

Gods, the way he kissed you.

There was need, yes; a hunger not unknown to you even in your limited experience. But it was a hunger wrapped in a velvet blanket of familiarity, as though he had known your lips as long as his own. He was certainly skilled, there was no denying that.

The chill of the night air felt like a splash of cold water to your senses once his lips left yours, and you found yourself mourning the loss of his touch.

“Think about it,” he had said that night, before retreating back to his tent.

–

And here you are, wrapped in your bedroll, thinking about it. Ceaselessly.

About his voice, laced with the sweetest honey, speaking promises of nights wanton and dripping with ecstasy. About his smile, teasing and rakish, and the feel of his lips against yours which you missed like home.

You think about the times you let him feed from you; the gentle way he held you, one hand cradling your head. The soft, pleasured noises that would rumble from his chest as he grazed over the soft flesh of your throat - and sunk his teeth into it. Then, greedy, he would begin to pull you close, your chest flush against his own. Every time he fed, it was as though the gates holding back the flood of every primal vampiric instinct within him were unleashed at the taste of you; the ambrosia that is your life essence which you willingly gift to him. And every time he fed, before you reached the point of no return, you would break him out of his trance - a simple series of taps on his shoulder - and he would release you from his predatorial embrace.

It was in those moments, you would see the look in his eyes: ravenous, pupils blown, boring down into you as you lay there beneath him, vulnerable. Your gazes would linger and gods, how you imagined what it would feel like to be entangled with him; for him to take his pleasure from you.

No, you tell yourself. This has been going so fast. Your time together has been so short in the grand scheme of things yet, with the threat of ceremorphosis looming over you, your time on this mortal plane may be fleeting. One might argue that now is surely the time to experience that which you have not… isn’t it?

But what if this isn’t what you actually want and this aching need within you is simply a manifestation of the stress your increasingly bizarre situation has brought you? It is not unknown for one to develop bouts of hypersexuality in times of stress, or so you have read in books detailing such occurrences.

Suddenly, an idea presents itself. A scientist such as yourself requires a chance to gather all available evidence before coming to a conclusion. A little experimentation, perhaps. Then, you’ll know for certain if your attraction runs deeper than you give your body credit for. Your honed mind will not be governed by a set of primitive bodily urges - you’re better than that. You won’t allow it.

For now, sleep beckons. Tomorrow, you shall put your idea into practice.

–

The next day passes as swiftly as you had hoped. You’re eager to welcome the night. You and your companions had seemingly settled into a predictable routine when it came to your evening endeavours: your fellow wizard and friendly rival, Gale, would slave over the cook pot with the limited items you had procured over your journey, while the Blade of Frontiers himself regaled your group with stories of his adventures, punctuated with commentary from your remaining companions, ranging from crude to complimentary. Food would be eaten and domestic duties fulfilled, after which, everyone would begin their journeys to their bedrolls. Well, everyone bar you and Astarion. As the resident elves, you require far less rest than that of your travelling companions. It was in these moments, where the camp lay dormant and the two of you sit against a fallen log by the campfire, that you had developed something resembling a rapport with Astarion. You have become rather fond of your night time talks.

Tonight, however, you have plans beyond repartee.

You feel emboldened by your plan. Where before, you were thrown into territory unknown, unprepared and anxious, now you have the comfort of scientific method on your side. You know exactly what to say - you’ve thought of every possibility after all.

Sitting side-by-side, you turn to him, determined.

“I was thinking about your little proposition last night.”

“Were you now?” Astarion replies with a smirk on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet. I always imagined that the first time I, um…”

“Did the horizontal dance with an esteemed companion? Engaged in amorous congress? Fucked?”

“Had sex,” you quickly correct, halting his attempts to fluster you further. “I always imagined the first time I had sex would be under slightly less unusual circumstances. We’ve been under nothing but stress ever since we got off that damned Nautiloid. I can’t tell if this desire I’m feeling is because I truly want to spend the night with you, or because my body just wants a distraction.”

“Is that such a bad thing? We’ve worms in our brains and danger is lurking around every corner. Our time is short, darling. If I can provide our dear leader a little respite in these tumultuous times; offer up my services in her time of need, that sounds like time well spent, does it not?”

He shuffles closer to you, resting his arm behind you on the log which you both lean against.

“Besides,” he continues, his voice low and close to your ear, “you’ve been so good to me, offering up your neck for me to savour. It’s only fitting that I offer you a little distraction in return.”

“I don’t want to just… use you as a distraction, Astarion. Gods, I offered you my blood because I wanted to help you, not because I expected a favour.”

For a fleeting moment, his expression shifts. And just as quickly, his smirk returns, embodying a practised sultriness that has surely wrapped many a soul around his fingers.

“No,” you continue, “if I have sex, it will be because it’s something I truly want to do; that I’m ready for. Not just a fanciful distraction. I hope you feel the same.”

That expression again, barely noticeable. You can’t quite decipher it.

“So, darling,” he purrs, “what do you suggest?”

“I was wondering if I could kiss you.”

“Ha! Can’t get enough, eh?”

“I just think that, with a little more evidence, I might be able to see if this is something I’m truly ready for; to discern whether this desire is real, or simply a physical response to this gods-awful situation we find ourselves in.”

He laughs, seemingly amused by your reasoning, and your heart flutters at the sound. Unexpected.

“Gods, are you always such an overthinker?”

“I just think it would help me come to a decision.”

“Is that what this is then? Your little experiment?”

“I’m nothing if not a scientist,” you tease back.

“Alright, my dear. Your terms are acceptable. A kiss, for scientific reasons, of course.”

Of course, you say to yourself. That… is what this is, isn’t it? Simple evidence gathering?

You have no time to consider this as Astarion places a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze fully to his, and suddenly, you hear your pulse pounding loudly in your ears once more. Gods, his eyes are beautiful.

An easy smile, a tilt of his head, and he presses his lips to yours, delicate and familiar. He’s gentle, at first: his lips linger on yours a moment before kissing you again, a tender sensation. As you close your eyes and immerse yourself in the feeling, the world around you quietens. No longer do you hear the crackling of the fire as it dies, the chirps of insects, or the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

At this moment, all you know is him.

You succumb to the coolness of his touch, the smoothness of his skin, the freshness of his scent - sensations so overwhelming that your body responds of its own accord, letting free a soft moan into his mouth.

As though in response, Astarion’s hand lowers from your cheek and trails from your neck, your shoulder, to your waist, as though committing each dip of your body to memory, before pulling you closer to him. Your hands, in return, plant themselves against his chest. His body feels hard and angular against the softness of your own.

As his tongue seeks permission to dance with yours, there is a hunger; a fieriness that threatens to engulf you. The kiss deepens, and you realise with a start that your legs have entangled themselves with his.

Pull yourself together, your mind screams. You’re meant to be in control of your body, not the other way around.

Or so you think, when suddenly, Astarion’s hand moves to your arse - the cheeky sod - and he skillfully, seamlessly rolls you onto his lap, taking advantage of your entangled legs, purposefully positioning you so that you’re straddling him.

Shit.

You gasp. You had forgotten to breathe. He notices and, gods, the smug look on his face. He knows he’s taken you off guard, and worse still…

He knows the effect he’s having on you.

The wall you had carefully constructed between your mind and body begins to collapse, brick by brick. As you kiss, the final fragments fall away, and everything that was once separated threatens to come together in a powerful, unified surge of desire if not for the final threads of your self-restraint.

His body desires this as much as yours, it would seem. As you straddle him, his hands caressing you as they drag up and down your back, you notice a distinct hardness digging into you, oh so close to your core. It takes more willpower than you’ve ever known to not grind into that hardness, seeking the release which you ache for. You are a tautly drawn bow, the tension between your mental focus and physical yearning almost unbearable.

Noticing how stiff you become, Astarion retreats from your lips, tilting his head in playful curiosity.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, darling?”

“I… I…” You barely recognise your own voice as it strains to come out of you.

The bowstring snaps.

You yield.

Your mind and body merge into a mess of lust and desire, and you kiss him hard and greedily. He returns the enthusiasm in kind, releasing a groan into your mouth as he does so. You want this. You want him.

Astarion pulls himself from your lips and turns his attentions to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses where, other nights, he had sunk his fangs. As he does so, you hear his voice, husky in lust.

“You know, if you still need a little more “experimentation,” I have a couple more ideas for you…”

His voice gives you goosebumps.

“... I’m particularly skilled with my tongue, after all.”

You nod.

“Your tent or mine?”

–

As you’re pushed against the bedroll within the privacy of your tent, you’re overwhelmed by a desire to feel every inch of Astarion’s cool, hard body on yours. It was such a primal need, to be enveloped by him; an urge beyond anything you’ve experienced, causing you to wrap your arms greedily behind his neck as you kiss each other, pulling him closer, but never close enough. His hips grind against you slowly, deliberately, granting you a brief, delicious friction which sends shivers up your body and fuels the incredible ache between your legs.

Astarion sits back up on his knees, admiring the mess of you, a smile on his pretty lips. You can only imagine the state you must be in: hair wild, eyes wide and hungry, clothes dishevelled. But your appearance is a distant notion in the back of your mind as Astarion lifts the hem of your skirt and removes your undergarments, sopping wet from your arousal.

You feel vulnerable, exposed to him like this, your desire on full display in front of the very man who you spent nights dreaming about. While his lustful gaze lights a flush of red across your cheeks, it doesn’t cause you to recoil; instead, you find yourself emboldened as he lowers himself between your legs, holding your gaze with eyes hungry and hooded.

He drags his lips up your thighs, leaving kisses so teasing that brings forth the neediest of sounds from your chest. When he reaches your core, he slides a tongue up the slit of you, agonisingly slowly, painfully gently.

Head rolling back, you anticipate the feeling of his tongue within you, but then…

He diverts his attention back to your thighs.

Bastard.

“Astarion..!”

“Eager little pup, aren’t you? Don’t you worry, darling - you’ll get what you desire. Once I have my fun with you, of course.”

He shifts, propping your legs over his shoulders as he grants you an audacious glance and grazes his tongue over you once more, sending a wave of tingles radiating across your body.

You begin to pout at his teasing action, and–

His tongue enters you.

He glides it firmly from your entrance to your clit, lapping you up in one motion, releasing the most wondrous groan, as though the nectar of your arousal is sweeter than any honey.

And so, like a man starved, he devours you, gauging quickly the sensations you prefer, alternating skillfully between firm strokes of his tongue, and the most teasing of flickers across your clit.

Your back arches, and you can do nothing but grasp at the edges of your bedroll as he works at you, leaving you in a state so blissful that you don’t notice the wanton sounds being cried from your lips.

“Easy, love,” he purrs, the loss of his tongue against you causing you to whimper. “As much as I enjoy hearing those delectable sounds of yours, let’s not wake the others, hm?”

You can only cover your mouth with your hands in a feeble attempt to hush yourself as he continues his ministrations. As your eyes meet and the pleasant ache in your core begins to swell into an all-encompassing warmth across your body, you wonder if this is what it feels to be revered as a deity would, your every sensation treated with the kind of awe that only a god might know.

It is when he enters you with his fingers - first one, then two, thrusting in rhythm with his tongue - that the warmth, now an inferno, reaches its peak. It surges through you like a divine crescendo, each wave of your climax a new blessing that floods your senses with a celestial rapture, singing his name like the sweetest hymn.

He caresses your thighs as he brings you down slowly from your high, grounding you.

As you return once again to this mortal plane, the lingering euphoria elicits a fit of giggles from you.

“Well,” Astarion smiles in return, removing himself from the home he has made between your legs, “you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I did. I really did. Thank you.”

As you both sit yourselves upright once more, he presses another kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him.

“I hope our little experiment was very informative for you,” he says with a wink. His words are teasing, but spoken with a gentleness that surprises you.

The truth is, you do have one more idea.

“Can I, um… Can I do the same for you?”

“What?” He says a little too quickly. Noticing this, he brushes his hair back with his hand to a more presentable condition, regains his composure, and continues. “I mean, you don’t have to. To see you squirm under my touch, that’s pleasure enough for me.”

“I want to make you feel good too.”

“You want to?”

That same indecipherable expression. A man with as many notches on his bedpost as he claims must have had some less than favourable conquests every now and then… Perhaps he’s had some bad experiences when receiving too? You suddenly find yourself cursing your lack of experience in these matters. You’re not exactly brimming with social expertise either.

“I probably won’t be the best - not as good as you - but I want to try. I always find that the best way to develop one’s skills is to practise under the guidance of a trusted expert. So… could you teach me how to make you feel good?”

Your gazes linger for a moment as he seems to assess your resolve.

Seemingly satisfied, he smirks, a well-practised aura of sultriness fitting back into place once more. All traces of that mysterious expression dissipate before your eyes.

“Well, darling, if you’re so eager to please me, who am I to stop you?”

You slide up to sit next to him as he begins to unlace his trousers, and suddenly you find yourself unsure of where to look. You’ve a scholar’s knowledge of the physical form; men’s anatomy is no stranger to you from an analytical perspective. And yes, you’ve fantasised about Astarion’s… parts before, as much as you have tried to deceive yourself into believing it was nothing more than a passing, intrusive thought. Yet, now that you’re here, about to perform the most intimate of acts to your beautiful travelling companion for the first time, you become bashful. You can’t quite believe the situation you’ve gotten yourself into tonight.

Yet, as he lowers his trousers and underwear to his thighs, revealing himself to you, all thoughts of bashfulness, of anxiety, cease to be for a moment.

“Hells, Astarion.” You look upon his hardened member with disbelief, measuring its girth against your arm. “How is that going to fit inside me, exactly?”

A slip of the tongue.

He grins, very pleased with himself. “Getting ahead of ourselves, are we?”

… And there returns that familiar flush of heat to your cheeks. Shit.

His chuckling lets you know that he has, in fact, noticed your embarrassment.

Seeking to swiftly change the subject to the much more pressing matter at hand, you ask, “can I touch you?”

In wordless agreement, Astarion guides your hand to his cock, which glistens slightly from the beads of precum elicited from the head. As you hold it, his hand remains over yours, coaxing you to move up and down the shaft.

His cock isn’t warm as you would imagine a regular man’s to be, owing to his vampiric nature, but you note its hardness; the way it pulses beneath your touch; the way his foreskin glides over the head so seamlessly. You squeeze him, fascinated.

“Gently, love. Like this.” He demonstrates by applying a light pressure to your hand and twisting ever so slightly as you both reach the tip, then loosening his grip as he slides you back down his length. You repeat the motion, tentatively. Gods, you hope you're doing this right. He made you feel incredible. You want him to feel incredible too. But oh, what if you hurt him, what if you–

“A-ah…”

The softest sigh of pleasure from your companion interrupts your thoughts. It sends wonderful shivers throughout your body. You find yourself eager to coax more of those little sounds from him.

A newfound confidence flares within you, and you gradually increase your pace, up and down and up and down the shaft, squeezing and twisting lightly as your beautiful instructor taught. In a sudden bout of curiosity, you glide your thumb over the head on your way back down and–

“Ah!”

There it is again. That most delicious sound.

“Exactly like that, darling. Exactly like that.”

He removes his hand from yours as you continue to pump him - you are a fast learner, it would seem - and moves it to reach your cheek, turning you to face him. As he leans his forehead against yours, you notice his breathing has become heavier, just ever so slightly. Instinctively, your breathing begins to match his, and you feel an intensity in the air that gives you goosebumps. Then he kisses you, and it is hungry. Ravenous. Greedy. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly, pressing your lips firmly against his.

As you continue to pleasure him, you find yourself becoming greedy too.

You want to taste him.

Between gasps for air, you ask him, “can I use my mouth on you? The way you did for me?”

“Mmhm,” he says into your kiss. It feels almost a shame to remove yourself from his lips, but you have greater plans yet.

You both reposition yourselves. He turns to lie himself back on the bedroll, and you crawl down his body to position yourself between his legs. So close to his cock, you find yourself admiring it, taking in every detail: the thick vein on the underside of the shaft, the way the head throbs a colour darker than the rest, eager for release.

You're overwhelmed with a primal desire - a need - to please, to give.

To worship.

“Gods, it's beautiful,” you think aloud.

“I know,” he remarks confidently in return. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, but in this moment, in your eyes, even you can't deny that his cock is perfection. Your mouth waters at what is to come.

You hold his member delicately, like a jewel most precious, planting kisses up his length. A soft sound escapes from Astarion’s lips and suddenly you are emboldened, determined to gift him with bliss as he had gifted you. To do so, however, you would need a little instruction.

“Tell me how to please you,” you plead, and you feel him twitch at your words.

“You are eager,” he purrs, propping himself up with his hands to gaze down at you. You notice a shiver and a sigh, ever so slight, when you trail a line of wetness from base to tip with your tongue.

“In that case,” he continues, brushing a strand of hair from your face, granting him a better view of you, “lick your lips and hold it at the base. Then I want you to get to know it a little, so to speak. Use your mouth around the head and start slowly - there's no point in rushing in, eh?”

You obey, shaking off the lingering feelings of bashfulness at the directness of his words, and wrap your lips around him. Out of curiosity, you swirl a flattened tongue around the head and gods, his skin is so smooth, still slightly salty from precum. His cock twitches and you hear him gasp above you - he’s especially sensitive there, it would seem.

Where are his other sensitive spots, you wonder.

Time to experiment. You are nothing if not a scientist.

You bob your head and relax your jaw to the best of your abilities, taking in just a little bit more of him each time your mouth glides up and down, keeping your tongue flat against him to flick against the sensitive tip each time you glide back up the length. The sounds he makes - oh, those sounds. His moans are like velvet, a soft, deep timbre that caresses your senses and makes your loins ache once more. Every murmur seeps into your being, igniting your senses and fuelling your need to explore every inch of him. You continue your journey down and down his length, savouring the taste and the texture and–

You gag as his cock touches your throat.

Astarion recomposes himself. “Easy, darling. Use your hand where your mouth can’t reach.”

“Like this?” Your hand pumps the shaft in rhythm with the motions of your mouth and tongue, and Astarion’s head rolls back for a moment.

“Like that,” he exhales heavily, “and suck gently.”

There’s a certain sense of empowerment, unravelling him like this. You relish in every moan that escapes his lips, every twitch and pulse of his cock as you attend to him. The lewd, wet sounds emitted as your hollowed cheeks suck his length. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers weaving through the strands with a gentle authority, pushing you hard enough to guide you to an ever-quickening rhythm, but gentle enough not to force himself down your throat.

“Use your other hand,” he says between breaths, “hold the balls softly.”

You do as he says, giving them the gentlest of squeezes as you attend to him, and his breaths grow deeper, uneven. You sense the rising tension in him, a tide gathering strength beneath the surface.

He gives one final instruction.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes meet with a stormy intensity and, as you pump up and down with your lips and fingers at a dizzying pace, the intensity seems to surge through him with the force of an ocean swell, powerful and all-encompassing.

With a tremor and a groan so delicious that you find yourself moaning instinctively in response, his cum fills your mouth. Your eyes water, taken by surprise by the force of his release, but you do your best to swallow each wave, releasing him with a wet pop as his climax subsides.

Some moments pass and, in the afterglow, the tent is filled with a comfortable, profound stillness, and only the sounds of heavy breathing - yours and his - as you both return to your senses.

“Did you just..?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“I did,” you reply with a grin, showing him your tongue to reveal that not a drop went to waste.

He laughs warmly, and your heart flutters.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” He kisses you deeply as he sits up, seemingly undeterred by the taste of himself.

“I think I’ve gathered enough evidence to consider your proposition,” you say teasingly.

“Tomorrow night then, darling?”

Bastard.

But yes, you think to yourself. Tomorrow night. You’re ready.

Masterlist can be found here.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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ikarakie · 2 years

Text

the first time wayne meets steve is actually far before the events of '86. in fact, it's in winter of '85.

he's on his way back from work when he pops a tire. he's pissed off, it's cold, still dark, and the beginnings of fucking snow are falling around him, and he doesn't have a spare. the nearest payphone is probably three miles walk, and he's just readying himself to make the journey when, miraculously, a pair of headlights turn onto the back road.

the car slows to a stop behind wayne's, and he's struck by how fucking nice it is. a brown bmw 733i, one he thinks he's seen around a couple times. when the driver steps out, he realises that, yes, he has seen this car. because the boy behind the wheel is the harrington boy, and wayne curses every god out there.

he expects some snark. a good attitude and for the kid to make him grovel for help or outright deny any assistance. instead, he approaches with these wide bambi eyes, the absolute picture of concern.

"are you alright, sir?" he asks, perfectly polite. wayne huffs.

"popped a tire, ain't got a spare." he doesn't- doesn't know why he's telling him. really doesn't. but something about the kid makes him falter, makes his steely exterior give way ever so slightly. the boy crouches down to the tire in question, frowning as he inspects it. then nods, grinning. he says nothing to wayne as he heads back to his car, and for moment he thinks the kid's gonna leave him in the dirt. but, instead, he pops the trunk and hauls out a spare, rolls it over to the car.

wayne only watches, fascinated, as he jogs back to retrieve a little set of tools. sits his ass by his tire and starts going at it. he's in a thin, short sleeved tshirt and jeans. he must be fucking freezing- wayne is, and he's got a thick coat, gloves and a hat on.

"what're you doin', boy?" he asks, unable to sound anything but bewildered. the kid blinks at him.

"changing your tire, sir?"

"i ain't got anything to pay you back with." wayne warns, wary. the kid shrugs, continues his task.

"that's okay, i wasn't going to ask you to." he pulls the popped tire off and lays it by his side. "it's just a good thing we have the same size, huh?" he grins, a little shy. wayne has never felt so thrown off in his life.

was this really james and cynthia harrington's boy? would someone of those people's blood really sit in the cold to change a strangers tire? expecting nothing in return? "where's your layers, kid? it's cold as ass out here, you'll catch a chill."

"oh, i gave it to my friend." seriously? seriously? "i'm alright sir, not to worry." he says this despite his red cheeks and reddening knuckles.

he finishes fitting the tire a second or two later, and once he's inspected it, gives wayne an endearingly dorky thumbs up. it reminds him of eddie in all the best ways. "all done, sir!" he collects up all his tools and threads an arm through the hole of the tire, balancing it on his shoulder. "i'll take this for you, i have to drive by the junkyard anyways." he doesn't. wayne knows the harrington's live in loch nora, and that's the opposite goddamn direction.

"you really a harrington?" he asks, not missing the confusion and maybe even slight disappointment he's met with. "just- no offence, son, but i always thought they were nothin' but bad." he deflates even more, if possible. "how did they raise such a kind boy?"

it's such a sudden change, how quickly he's smiling, bright enough to light the damn road if he wanted. it's all bashful and excited, it makes wayne wonder if he's never heard a good word about himself in his life, which seems insane.

"i still got a bit of an asshole gene," he jokes, a little dry, "but i'm trying to be better, you know?" he motions to the tire. "if you can help, why shouldn't you?"

wayne wants to squeeze him, but refrains. thanks him a couple times over and forces the boy to take his hat before he goes, (despite his complaints). harrington bids him farewell and a safe drive home, and he's driving off before either realise they never learnt each other's names.

(wayne finds his out later, though, when eddie meets him at the door, worried that he's late. only after he's walked his nephew through the story three times and sworn up and down, yes, it was true, and yes, it was definitely harrington. steve harrington.

when they meet again after '86, in eddie's hospital room, that boy from all that time ago holding his nephew's hand, he does give him that hug. thanks him, for both this time and the last.

steve wears the hat in winter of '86. it makes wayne smile.)

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apuckishwit · 2 years

Text

When Your Boyfriend's a Reformed Mean Girl

100 percent inspired by this tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR75sjkf/

Time seems to do wierd things for Eddie Munson.

It's something Steve has gotten used to, in the year they've been dating. Eddie is attentive and affectionate, always makes sure Steve needs are being met, always goes the extra mile to let Steve know how much he loves him, how much he cherishes their time together. In many ways, he's the best partner Steve's ever had.

Just...sometimes things like approaching deadlines and important dates seem to literally not register in his brain until it's almost too late. And not even then, sometimes.

Eddie acknowledges that it's a problem. He puts every effort into finding workarounds. There is a calendar hanging at both his (brand new, government-funded) trailer and Steve's house, hanging right by the door with color-coded schedules and a pack of Post-It notes and a cup of pens sitting on a little table below it in case something changes or comes up. Steve has a dedicated half hour every night where he's allowed to remind Eddie of things they have coming up, or ask if they've been added to the calendar and Eddie is one hundred percent not allowed to gripe about being nagged in that thirty minutes. Not that he would, because most of the time there's at least one, "Oh, shit, forgot about that." When something slips through the cracks, he apologizes promptly and sincerely if it's something that affects someone other than him and he is always trying to do better.

Steve understands. Hell, after as many concussions as he's had, details get away from him too sometimes. There's several color-coded blocks on the calendar for Steve, as well. Sometimes, Eddie just forgets things despite his best efforts.

But their anniversary? The date that Steve has been carefully planning for almost a month to celebrate their first (of hopefully, many) year together as a couple? Really?

Eddie is going to be horrified.

He is going to feel so bad, and so guilty, and he is absolutely going to go all out to make it up to Steve. Steve knows this. He knows Eddie loves him, and that Eddie was looking forward to tonight as much as he was, and that this is just an instance of Eddie's brain betraying him, and not him actively trying to hurt Steve, or be dismissive of him. Eddie is going to feel awful when he realizes that he stood Steve up on their one-year anniversary to fight imaginary dragons with the boys. Hell, the boys are probably going to feel awful when they realize they gave Eddie something else to focus on in the lead-up to his one-year anniversary.

Well. Dustin, Lucas, and Will are going to feel awful. Mike will probably think it's hilarious.

The point is, Steve knows Eddie didn't do this on purpose, and it's not that Eddie doesn't value his time with Steve enough to remember the date, and so he's merely irritated. Maybe a little exasperated. Not truly angry.

All he has to do is radio over to Wheeler's place and remind Eddie what the date is. His boyfriend will literally drop everything, will probably not even bother to pack up his precious miniatures and dice before he's tearing out of the driveway and breaking every traffic law imaginable to get to Steve's house. Steve doesn't actually want Eddie to get a ticket or anything, though. Besides.

He's feeling a little petty.

There's steaks waiting to be tossed on the grill, twice-baked potatoes in the oven, and a fucking homemade chiffon cake with fresh strawberries and whipped cream chilling in the fridge. Eddie's gift is sitting on the counter, in an elegant little gift bag tied with black ribbon.

"Hey Rob, you wanna come over for dinner?" he says into his walkie, deciding to let Fate decide if his boyfriend is listening and catches a clue.

"Do I get a piece of that cake you made?" Robin replies immediately, amusement already dancing in her voice because she's his (platonic) soulmate and she can read his mind.

"You can take the leftovers home," he says.

And then his (romantic) soulmate, who can usually read his mind, comes over the channel as well. "Have fun, babe!" Eddie says brightly. "This is probably going to run later than I thought. I'll probably just pick you up for breakfast tomorrow, okay?"

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. "Okay."

"Love you!" Eddie says, and signs off.

Robin brings a bottle of wine she stole from her parents' pantry and they demolish the dinner and half the cake. Steve does get another package of steaks out to thaw in the fridge for tomorrow, though, and blows out the fancy candles he'd lit before they burn too low to be used again. Fuck if he's making another chiffon cake, though, persnickety little thing. He calls Enzo's and orders a chocolate marble cheesecake to be picked up tomorrow.

"So you gonna milk this for a nice present or what?" Robin asks as Steve is packing the remains of the cake for her to take home, as promised.

"Nah. He's fucking perfect like 90% of the time...I'm not gonna get mad at him for the other ten." Robin smiles at him, a little gooey-eyed. Steve returns it with a smirk. "But I'm not letting him off the hook entirely."

He has just finished putting the dishes away when he hears the rumble of Eddie's van in the driveway. He glances down at his watch, laughing to himself a little when he notes that while late, it is far, far too early for a gaming session to be done. He scoops his little gift bag off the counter and saunters to the front door just in time for a frantic knocking to sound. He schools his features and opens the door.

"Steve! Stevie, baby, I am so, so sorry. I swear to God, I had tonight written down in like five different places, but Dustin wanted to try a new character class and we haven't done this campaign yet, and I got so excited...I'm so sorry I forgot, but I'm here and I SWEAR I will make it up to you!" Eddie pauses for breath, wild-eyed and panting.

Steve holds the silence for a moment, and then shakes his head, leaning forward to drop a kiss on Eddie's cheek. "You're such a nerd," he says, affection dripping from his words. He sighs. "I hope you know, now I'm expecting flowers tomorrow. And I get to pick the movies for, like, two weeks with no complaints."

Eddie almost wilts in relief. "Absolutely none," he promises, reaching out to grip Steve's hand. "I will make tomorrow night AMAZING. I promise."

Steve smiles at him, his chest aching with the love he feels for this man. But he's still feeling just a little bit petty. He holds the bag out to Eddie, tilting his head coyly. "You can still open this tonight, though."

"Babe! I thought we said no gifts." He takes the bag in his hands, plucking at the ribbon.

Steve's smile turns just a little sharper. He worked fucking hard on that cake. "It's kind of for both of us, really. It's what I was gonna wear up to bed tonight."

Eddie peeks in the box, his brow furrowing. "Stevie...there's nothing but strawberry lip gloss and a bottle of lube in here." He looks up, and freezes as his brain catches up with what his mouth just said.

Steve leans forward and kisses him, hard, long, and absolutely filthy. "Suffer," he whispers against his boyfriend's lips.

Then he shuts the door in his face.

#Steddie #Steddie fic #stranger things #Stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #adhd eddie munson #My writing #I couldn't resist!

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nejjirez · 1 year

Text

E! 42 MILES HEADCANONS ☆.

summary: e!42 miles relationship headcanons , whats its like being in a relationship with him.. , slightly suggestive !

! implied black fem reader

a/n: these are from my dr , so they're probably not accurate to how he actually is but you can leave if you dont like it .. anyways enjoy !.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hates seeing you all happy happy with boys other than the ones he trusts , he WILL come kiss you , hug you , ect

nigga is hella protective of you , watch someone get flamed for speaking bad about you 💀

his mom teased him for weeks about how he liked getting his hair done by you more than he liked getting it done by her

"mm , someone's in love huh? you normally only let me do your hair mijo." "mami she's my girlfriend chill"

he lovess seeing you in his clothes like he ill take pictures of you/with you with it on and giggle at it for hours .. days .. weeks ..

he know how to do braids , including box braids .. where my black readers at? he DEFINITELY sometimes does ur hair for u

"babyy , you got $180 for my hair?" "goddamn $180? go sit down ma i'll go buy the hair rq we not doin ts"

he is REAL serious about your attitude , this man Will grab you by your neck and tell you what place you're in ..

he only accepts your attitude when you're on your period , but he'll make sure you tone in down by sayin "ight mami chill .. i get it u on ya cycle and shit but chill"

KISSESS KISSESS AND MORE KISSESS .. this nigga LIVES for kisses. always kissin you in public or not and does NOT care

loves neck kisses , he started doing them to u when you're busy and he wants attention so when he saw you doing it to him it made him giggle

yall are the GOOFIEST AND FUNNIEST couple ever , wholee buncha play fights and laughing and shit

you can't take him seriously for shit , yall end up crackin up in the middle of an argument

"yo im sick of this shit bruh unadd him this his 3rd time textin u" ".. shess minee you stay away from her its not her timee ! head ass" "yo gtfo 😭"

he let you do his edges one day because you thought it was funny and begged him to , when he found out you tried to take a picture he stayed in his room until you agreed not to (you secretly still have one)

ARCADE DATES ARE A MUST (saying this cs i love them..) he always teases you before the two of you get there on how he's gonna beat u in every game

his hugs are the best , u could be breaking down and one hug from him is gonna make u feel all rainbows and sunshine ..

nigga is ALWAYS spoiling you.. you want it? mention that you want it around him? you gon get it within the next week/few days ..

ur house is his house .. his house is your house .. yall always at each other house..

"lets go home now im tired .." "which one?"

any insecurities? he gon kiss em

your #1 supporter no matter what you do or how wrong you are

whenever yall play roblox and someone stands on your head he WILL shoot them if its a game where he can kill people

he actually gets jealous so easily

HES ACTUALLY RLLY CLINGY

i had fun making these .. ill make more some other time

taglist: @marci-jean @gw3ndyswonderland @hiimayee @nokkihy @spiderheartzz @all444miles @444morales

#miles morales #atsv #miles x reader #spiderman atsv #e42 miles #earth 42 miles x reader #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles headcanons

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wannabehockeygf · 30 days

Text

Tough Love - Quinn Hughes

“I took a train to Boston and I wanted to cry,

He’s gone, I’m twenty-four, and it’s a Saturday night,

I ran and took his jacket with a rip in the side,

I hate when we fight. Sucks when we fight.”

***

part 1 // quinn hughes x gracie abrams fic trilogy

part 2 part 3

***

Summary: A business trip and a longer than expected playoff stint turn out to not mix well.

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: slight allusion to smut, alcohol

Notes:

- finally getting to write angst

- based tightly on the song, I love the song so much.

***

Business trips were a rarity for you, something that happened just often enough to remind you of how much you disliked them. Tonight, you found yourself weaving through the crowded streets of Montreal, the evening air crisp and biting as you made your way back to your hotel. You’d had one too many glasses of wine at the company dinner, and now the world around you seemed to tilt slightly with every step.

The middle of June was usually pretty warm, but once the sun dipped below the horizon, it got colder. You shivered, pulling your coat tighter around you, feeling the chill seep through the fabric. The streets were unfamiliar, the language foreign, and the soft hum of conversations in French made you feel more isolated than ever. You couldn’t understand a word of it, and the half-drunk haze you were in didn’t help. The idea of calling your boyfriend for some comfort flitted through your mind, but you quickly dismissed it. It was already ten, and you knew he had a big game tomorrow—the first Stanley cup final game of his career. He’d be in Boston by now, probably already asleep, and you didn’t want to wake him.

But just as you were trying to reassure yourself that you’d be fine, your phone buzzed in your pocket. His name lit up the screen, and without thinking, you answered the FaceTime call.

The screen flickered to life, and you found yourself staring at him—Quinn. His face was usually a comforting sight, but tonight, something was different. You didn’t immediately notice the tension in his expression, the way his brows were drawn together in concern, or how his lips were pressed into a tight line. Instead, with a drunken giggle, you greeted him with a cheerful, “Bonjour!”

Your voice echoed in the cold air, and you could almost feel the disapproving glares of the locals as you cheerfully butchered their language. But all of that faded as you looked back at the screen, finally registering the way he looked at you. The furrow in his brow deepened, and his eyes scanned your face, taking in the telltale signs of your tipsy state. His lips parted as if he was about to say something, but for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words.

Oh.

The realization hit you all at once. You weren’t sure if it was the cold, the wine, or just the fact that you were far from home, but suddenly, you felt incredibly vulnerable. You decide to probe him at first, just a little.

“Hey, Quinny, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be asleep?” You try to keep your tone light, your smile easy, but there’s a nervous edge to your words. His eyes are too intense, too knowing, and you feel like he can see right through you—like he knows exactly how many glasses of wine you’ve had, how lost you feel, how you’re trying so hard to pretend everything’s fine.

Quinn shifts slightly, and the screen wobbles as he props his phone against something. He’s sitting on the edge of a bed, shoulders bare, the dim hotel room light casting shadows across his face. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, and you can’t help but think how he’s always been so beautiful to you, even when he’s unguarded like this. Especially when he’s unguarded like this.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says finally, his voice a low, quiet rumble that vibrates through you even from miles away. There’s a hint of something there—something heavy and raw—that makes your stomach twist. “I just... needed to see you.”

You blink, the words hanging in the air between you. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes you’re not used to seeing, a nakedness that makes your heart ache. You open your mouth to say something, to ask him what’s wrong, but the words get stuck in your throat.

Quinn’s eyes flicker away for a second, as if he’s embarrassed, and he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in a way that makes you realize how tense he is. “It’s stupid,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I just... I don’t know, I’m nervous about tomorrow. More than I should be.”

It’s such a simple admission, but it hits you like a punch to the gut. You know Quinn, know how fiercely he guards his emotions, how he hides his fears behind that confident smirk and those sharp, playful eyes. For him to admit he’s scared... it’s huge.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice catching in your throat as you take a step closer to the hotel’s entrance, away from the cold that seems to seep into your bones. “It’s not stupid. It’s a big game, I get it. But you’re going to be amazing, Quinny. You always are.”

He shakes his head again, and you can see the frustration tightening his jaw, the way his hand clenches into a fist. “It’s not just that,” he says, voice thick. “It’s... everything. The pressure, the expectations. It feels like everyone’s counting on me, and I just—fuck, I don’t know if I can do it.”

Your heart aches for him, and you wish you could reach through the screen and pull him into your arms, hold him close and tell him it’s all going to be okay. But you’re here, and he’s there, and there’s three hundred miles between you. So, you do the only thing you can—you try to make him laugh. “I’ve seen you play, Hughes. You’re practically a wizard on the ice. Remember that time you deked out three guys and scored from behind the net? If you can do that, you can handle a little playoff game.”

He lets out a short, humorless laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, they darken, a shadow passing over them that makes your chest tighten. “It’s not just a ‘little playoff game,’” he mutters. “It’s the fucking cup final. If I screw this up...”

“Hey,” you cut him off, your voice firm, “you’re not going to screw up. You’re one of the best players out there, Quinn. You’ve worked your ass off for this. You deserve to be here.”

He’s silent for a moment, staring at you through the screen, and you can see the battle waging behind his eyes—the fear, the doubt, the desperate need for reassurance. “I just... I wish you were here,” he says finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this without you.”

The words knock the breath out of you, and for a moment, you can’t speak. You want to tell him you’ll get on a plane, that you’ll be there in the box with the other girlfriends, cheering him on like you always do. But you can’t. You have your own commitments, your own life to live. And besides, your company would kill you if you just up and left in the middle of this trip.

“I... I can’t, Quinny,” you say softly, hating the way the words taste in your mouth, bitter and wrong. “I’m in Montreal. I can’t just leave.”

His face falls, and you can see the hurt in his eyes, the way his shoulders slump forward as if he’s been punched. “Right,” he says, his voice flat. “Of course. I get it.”

“Quinn, it’s not that I don’t want to be there,” you say quickly, trying to make him understand. “I do, more than anything. But I can’t just drop everything and go. You know that, and even if I could, I can’t afford to fly to Boston.”

There’s a pause, and you see the way his jaw tightens, the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “What if I paid for it?” he blurts out, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ll buy the ticket, the hotel—everything. Just come, please.”

Your heart lurches at the desperation in his voice, but you shake your head, even though you know he can’t see it. “Quinn, no. I can’t let you do that. I’m not going to let you spend your money on me like that. It’s... it’s not right.”

“Not right?” he echoes, his voice rising with disbelief. “What’s not right about it? I have the money, it’s not a big deal. I just need you here with me, okay? I need you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence between you is heavy, oppressive, filled with all the things you want to say but can’t. Your fingers tremble slightly as you grip your phone, and you force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you.

“I know you have your own stuff going on,” Quinn finally continues, his voice low and rough, like he's trying to keep it from cracking. “I’m not trying to guilt you into anything. I just—” He breaks off, running a hand over his face, and when he looks back at you, his eyes are dark, shadowed with a pain you don’t often see there. “I just really fucking need you right now.”

The words cut through you like a knife, sharp and searing, leaving a trail of guilt and regret in their wake. You’ve never heard him sound like this before—so raw, so vulnerable. It’s terrifying and heartbreaking all at once, and you wish more than anything that you could just reach through the screen and hold him, tell him that everything’s going to be okay. But you can’t. You’re here, and he’s there, and the distance between you feels like an insurmountable chasm.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath. “I wish I could be there. You have no idea how much I wish that. But I—”

“But you can’t,” he cuts in, his voice sharper now, edged with frustration. “I get it. You’ve got your own shit to deal with. I’m just... I’m just being selfish, right?”

You wince at the bitterness in his tone, the way it twists his words into something ugly and jagged. “That’s not what I meant,” you say, struggling to keep your voice steady, even as your heart pounds in your chest. “I want to be there for you, I do. But I can’t just leave in the middle of this trip. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he mutters, looking away, his gaze drifting to the side as if he can’t bear to look at you anymore. “I’m just supposed to suck it up and deal with it, right? Like I always do.”

The words hit you like a slap, and you can feel the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “That’s not fair, Quinn,” you say, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. “I’ve always been there for you when I could. But this... this is different. I can’t just drop everything and come running every time you need me. That’s not how this works.”

He flinches at your words, and you can see the flash of pain in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens as if he’s trying to hold back whatever it is he really wants to say. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says, his voice cold, distant. “I guess I’m just asking too much, huh?”

“Quinn, that’s not—”

“No, it’s fine,” he interrupts, his tone clipped and final. “Forget I said anything. I’ll be fine. I always am, right?”

The bitterness in his voice is like a punch to the gut, and you feel your breath hitch, your chest tightening with a pain that’s almost physical. You’ve never fought like this before—never had a conversation that felt so raw, so full of things left unsaid. You want to reach out, to bridge the gap between you, but you don’t know how. You’re standing on opposite sides of a canyon, and every word you say seems to push you both further apart.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry I can’t be there. I wish I could. But I can’t.”

He doesn’t respond right away, just stares at you with those intense, stormy eyes, his expression unreadable. The silence stretches on, thick and suffocating, and you feel like you’re drowning in it, like you can’t breathe.

“Yeah,” he says at last, his voice flat and emotionless. “I guess I’ll see you when I get back to Vancouver, then.”

And just like that, he hangs up, the screen going dark in an instant. You’re left standing there on the cold streets of Montreal, your heart pounding in your chest, tears streaming down your face. The chill bites into your skin, and you feel more alone than ever.

You stare at the blank screen, your mind reeling, trying to process everything that just happened. The conversation plays over and over in your head, each word echoing like a gunshot, each look and gesture seared into your memory. You feel a thousand different emotions at once—anger, sadness, guilt, regret—all tangled together in a messy, painful knot.

How did it come to this? How did you go from comforting each other to tearing each other apart? You don’t know, and that’s the worst part. All you know is that you’re here, and he’s there, and the distance between you has never felt so vast, so unbridgeable.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. The tears keep coming, hot and relentless, and you feel like you’re going to break apart right there on the street. You want to scream, to shout, to do something—anything—to make this pain go away. But you can’t. All you can do is stand there, shivering in the cold, your heart aching with a pain that’s too big, too raw, to put into words.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know how to fix this. All you know is that you miss him. God, you miss him so much it hurts. And you don’t know how you’re supposed to go on without him.

***

It started raining by the time you got onto the train, dingy carry-on suitcase in hand. The ticket was a little pricey, especially to go all the way to Boston, and you’re pretty sure the attendant upcharged you since you couldn’t speak French, but it still ended up way less than a flight.

You tried calling Quinn again, to let him know you were coming and that you completely ditched your business trip for him, but he ignored you. You assume he went back to sleep and he’ll see your texts in the morning, at which you’ll already be in Boston.

Your eyelids feel heavy as you just about drift to sleep, but are rudely awakened by a smooth, feminine voice. “Je n'aime pas votre veste. Pourquoi t'infliges-tu cela?”

Eyes snapping open, you look up to see a young-ish woman with short, dark hair and multiple piercings. You cock your head slightly, and part your lips to speak, to tell her you didn’t understand a word she just said. “I’m sorry, I don’t—“

“Ugh, Touristes,” she interrupts, sitting down in the seat in front of you with no clear intention. She flicks a piece of hair out of her face before speaking again, in an accent at that. “Canucks? Why? They make the playoffs like, once every ten years.” She adds on, gesturing to your jacket which is sporting a rip in the side.

You blink at the woman, still disoriented from the sudden wake-up call. Her words cut through the fog of sleep and confusion like a knife, and you find yourself staring at her, trying to piece together what she just said. Canucks. Of course. You glance down at your jacket, the familiar blue and white logo now feeling like a heavy weight on your chest.

“Um,” you start, your voice coming out hoarse, still thick with sleep. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

She waves a hand dismissively, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Canucks fans. You lot are always apologizing. It’s a shame you had to pick such a tragic team. Cursed, really.” Her accent is thick, the Quebeçois lilt giving her words an almost melodic quality, even as they cut through you.

You should be annoyed—maybe even a little offended—but instead, you just feel tired. So, so tired. The weight of the night’s events, the argument with Quinn, the cold streets of Montreal, and now this stranger's sharp commentary... it’s all too much. You lean back in your seat, running a hand over your face, trying to shake off the lingering remnants of sleep.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice flat, devoid of any real emotion. “I guess I’m just a sucker for punishment.”

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze sharp and curious. “Punishment? That’s an interesting way to put it, especially since they made the final. You with someone on the team?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You glance at her, taking in her sharp features, the piercings glinting under the harsh train lights, the dark hair framing her face in a way that makes her look both intimidating and oddly approachable.

“Yeah,” you say finally, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I am.”

Her gaze softens, just a fraction, and she leans back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, that explains the jacket. And the bags under your eyes. You look like you’ve been through hell.”

You let out a humorless laugh, the sound bitter and hollow even to your own ears. “You could say that.”

The woman tilts her head slightly, studying you with a look that feels too knowing, too perceptive. “Let me guess. He called you, all nervous and shit, asking you to come to his game, and you said no because you’ve got your own life to live. And now you’re on a train to Boston in the middle of the night because you feel guilty as hell.”

You stare at her, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. How could she know that? How could a complete stranger read you so easily, see right through all the layers of anger and hurt and guilt you’ve been carrying with you?

“How did you—”

She shrugs, cutting you off. “Happened to me once. Well, more than once, actually. You’re not the first girl to hop on a train because her boyfriend’s in his feelings, and you won’t be the last.”

The train rumbles along the tracks, the rhythmic clatter almost drowning out the voice in your head—the one that’s been relentlessly replaying your conversation with Quinn. You can still see the hurt in his eyes, the way his voice trembled with something so raw it made your chest ache. It’s like a heavy weight pressing down on you, suffocating, and you can’t shake it no matter how hard you try.

I should have stayed on the phone longer, you think, the regret gnawing at you. I should have told him I was coming. Why didn’t I just drop everything right then?

But the truth is, you know why. You’re scared too—scared of what this trip means, scared of what it’s doing to you both. Scared that maybe, just maybe, the distance between you isn’t just physical.

“Men,” the woman mutters again, drawing your attention back to her. Her gaze is still locked on you, and there’s something in her eyes that’s almost... sympathetic. “They’re a pain in the ass, but you already know that.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. You can feel the tears starting to gather again, blurring your vision, but you blink them back furiously. No crying, not here. Not in front of a stranger.

The woman seems to sense your struggle because she leans forward, her voice dropping to a softer, almost conspiratorial tone. “Look, I get it. You love him, right?”

You swallow hard and nod again, unable to find your voice.

She sighs, shaking her head. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You love him, so you do things like this—ditch your work, jump on a train in the middle of the night, all because you can’t stand the thought of him being upset.”

You wince, feeling the truth of her words hit home. She’s right, you think bitterly. I’m an idiot.

“But here’s the thing,” she continues, her voice taking on a hard edge. “If he really cares about you, he shouldn’t be asking you to make sacrifices like this. He shouldn’t make you feel guilty for having your own life.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she holds up a hand, stopping you. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying you shouldn’t be there for him. But it’s a two-way street. If he’s worth it, he’ll understand that sometimes you can’t just drop everything for him. And if he doesn’t... well, can he even make you come, sweetheart?”

You stare at the woman, her words hanging in the air between you, heavy and sharp. Her bluntness catches you off guard, leaving you fumbling for a response. But before you can say anything, she raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

"Well, can he?" she presses, her voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and challenge.

Your mind flashes back to the last time you and Quinn were together. You’d just gotten back to his apartment after one of his games, his hair still damp from the shower, and his eyes dark with that post-game intensity you’ve come to know so well. You remember how his hands felt on your skin, rough and desperate, how his breath hitched when you whispered his name, the way he pulled you closer like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

Your cheeks heat up at the memory, and you find yourself squirming in your seat, your gaze dropping to the floor as the images play out in your mind. The way his lips felt against your neck, the low growl that rumbled through his chest when you wrapped your legs around him, the way he whispered filthy, desperate things in your ear as he moved against you...

But then the doubt creeps in. The argument you just had, the way he hung up on you, the miles between you right now. Can he really make you come, in every sense of the word? Or are you just convincing yourself that he’s worth all this pain?

The woman’s smirk grows as she watches the flush creep up your neck, and she lets out a low chuckle. “Thought so,” she says, her voice softer now, almost sympathetic. “But here’s the thing, sweetheart: It’s not just about that. Yeah, the sex is important, but what really matters is if he makes you feel wanted, if he’s there for you even when you’re not in the same room.”

You let out a long breath, the weight of her words settling on your shoulders. She’s right. The chemistry you have with Quinn is undeniable, but is that enough? Is it enough to carry you through the hard times, the nights like tonight when you’re three hundred miles apart, and the only thing connecting you is a shaky FaceTime call?

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know if it’s enough.”

The woman leans back in her seat, crossing her legs and giving you a long, appraising look. “You remind me of myself a few years ago,” she says after a moment, her tone a little softer. “I was in a relationship like that—crazy about the guy, but always questioning if it was enough. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. He left, just like the ones before him. But you know what? I survived. Hell, I thrived.”

You raise an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into your expression. “So, what are you saying? That I should just give up on him?”

She shakes her head, her earrings jingling with the motion. “No, no. I’m not telling you to dump the guy. I’m just saying, don’t lose yourself in him. Make sure he’s giving as much as he’s taking. And for God’s sake, make sure he’s actually good for you. Sometimes, we fall for the wrong ones, and it takes a while to figure that out.”

You frown, turning her words over in your mind. It’s not what you want to hear, but deep down, you know there’s truth in it. You’ve always been there for Quinn, but has he really been there for you in the same way? And if not, what does that say about your relationship?

“I don’t know if I can just... stop caring,” you say, your voice wavering. “He means so much to me.”

The woman’s expression softens, and she reaches across the aisle to gently touch your hand. “You don’t have to stop caring, sweetheart. Just make sure you’re caring about yourself, too. Love isn’t about losing who you are; it’s about finding someone who makes you better, who pushes you to be the best version of yourself.”

You nod, trying to absorb her words, but your mind keeps circling back to Quinn—to the way he looked on that FaceTime call, all raw and vulnerable, the way he admitted how much he needed you. He’s not perfect, but he’s yours. And maybe, just maybe, that’s worth fighting for.

The woman leans back, sensing your inner turmoil, and her smirk returns, but it’s gentler this time. “But hey, if he can make you come like that... maybe he’s worth a little more thought, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh at that, a soft, breathy sound that feels like a release of some of the tension that’s been building inside you. “Yeah, maybe,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips.

She grins, satisfied with your reaction, and settles back into her seat. “Look, relationships are messy, and they’re hard, and sometimes they don’t make a damn bit of sense. But if he’s worth it, you’ll figure it out. Just don’t lose sight of yourself along the way.”

The train rumbles beneath you, the rhythmic clacking of the tracks providing a steady, comforting background noise as you mull over her words. The exhaustion you felt earlier is still there, but it’s less suffocating now, the weight of your doubts a little lighter.

You glance over at the woman, her eyes now closed, arms folded across her chest as she settles in for what’s left of the journey. There’s a quiet strength in her that you admire, a resilience born of experience and heartbreak, and you wonder if someday you’ll be able to look back with the same clarity, the same sense of peace.

For now, all you can do is keep moving forward, one step at a time. You still have hours to go before you reach Boston, before you can see Quinn and try to bridge the gap that’s grown between you. But for the first time tonight, you feel a small spark of hope, a tiny flame of determination that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay.

And with that thought, you close your eyes, letting the gentle sway of the train lull you into a fitful sleep, Quinn’s face still lingering in your mind, his voice echoing in your ears.

You’ll figure this out. You have to.

#vancouver canucks #quinn Hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey fanfiction #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #qh43 x reader #Spotify

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mcu-coworkers · 1 year

Text

You?

Summary: What you thought was your love story ended up being one cruel summer.

Word Count: 1k+

warnings: None really other than angry Miguel :I

A/n: amidst writing a part 3 for another story I got inspired by doctor strange and gave it a bit of a twist. Hope you guys like it!xx

Parts: One^ Two three Four

You had never seen Miguel so angry before.

Sure he was always short with everyone and never smiled other than to laugh at someone.

But when he did laugh, even if it was at someone, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat.

There were days when he’d call you into his office and ask you to update him on the spiders and the sectors they were handling and sometimes, if he was in a good enough mood, he’d ask about you.

Despite the mood swings, and his constant frown you wanted nothing more than to stand by his side and be there for all of it.

Peter B. though you were crazy for having feelings towards the coldest spider in the spider society but all things considered, he was probably right.

Only a crazy person would fall head over heels for someone who gave no sign of reciprocating feelings.

You had hope you’d get through one day.

That day definitely was not today.

You’d been caught up on a mission for the past couple of hours so you never responded to any of the comms. When you arrived back at HQ you were horrified by the mess.

You tried to ring Miguel but no luck, then you tried Jess, Ben, Gwen, shit, even Hobbie and still nothing.

Finally you were about to try Peter B. when he popped up behind you.

“You’re not gonna reach them, and honestly, I don’t think you want to.” he said as he held a very active May Day in his arms.

“What happened here?” you asked your voice barely above a whisper.

“ I ‘d tell you but maybe it's better if you just watch.” he said, pulling up all the camera footage.

And holy shit.

Suddenly you felt a lot worse about ignoring those comms from Miguel.

“Shit.” you cursed under your breath.

“Yeah, listen I should get going. Miguel will be back soon and I ‘m the last person he’ll want to see.” he said, opening a portal.

“Bye Pete, take care of yourself okay?” You said with a soft smile as he slowly disappeared into the portal.

Looking back at the paused footage you didn't know what to think.

You understood Miles, but you also understood Miguel.

But still, seeing the way he handled this and how out of hand he got made chills run down your spine.

You didn’t even want to think what would’ve happened had he gotten through the shield of the go home machine.

Lost in thought you never heard Miguel enter the room.

“Where the hell have you been?” you heard him yell as he walked up to you.

You practically jumped out of your skin at the sound of his tone.

“On a mission you know that Miguel” you said trying to not anger him further.

“ I called you to come back, so where the fuck were you.” he wasnt letting up.

“Miguel I got the guy I -” you tried but he cut you off.

“When I say come back that means come back am I fucking clear?” he said, looking down at you.

You’d never felt so intimidated by him before, not even on the first day after being recruited.

“Yes sir.” was all you could manage to say.

Finally he stepped back and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

“Lyla pull up the records of the go home machine and tell me where it sent him.” He said turning his back to you.

You could hear the distress in his voice so you thought of a way to help.

Walking up to him with caution you put a hand on his shoulder, “Miguel, Maybe you need to take a step back let someone else handle it.” you suggested.

“Yeah? Who?You? Thats a fucking joke. You could barely handle a stupid villain, you’ll never catch this kid.” he snarled, shrugging your arm off.

Taken back by his statement you felt a heavy weight on your chest.

“Miguel-” you tried but again you were cut off.

“What are you gonna say some inspirational shit? Tell me you're here to help?hm?” he asked, turning back to you.

“Yes, Miguel, I am here for you, always. But this, this is mania. Some things can't be fixed by yourself. ” You said the weight on your chest felt heavier.

When he stayed quiet you took it as a sign to keep going.

“Maybe this is a sign to consider stopping, look at how much of a toll this is taking on you.” you urged the man was grasping for straws at this point if they didn't find Miles he’d be lost.

“This is my life's work, there is no me without the multiverse.” he exclaimed, turning away from you.

“There are so many things that give your life meaning, that could give your life meaning.” you suggested, realizing what that last part sounded like you felt your face heat up.

Shit.

He stopped his pacing and turned to you, “Like what? You?”

Suddenly you felt your world come crashing down. You had nothing left to lose.

“Yeah. Me.” you said barely above a whisper.

“You care so much don’t you? You think I want your pity? That I need you?”he said aggressively.

“ I have never pitied you.”you snapped back.

“Good, because I don't need it. And I don't need you.” and with that he turned back around leaning on his desk.

You had nothing left for him. Or the spider society.

“Goodbye, Miguel.” was all you said before you walked out of the room and opened the portal to go home, for good.

“That was a bit rough for someone you like, don't you think?” Lyla asked, watching Miguel as he looked over to the door you walked out of.

He decided to focus on one thing at a time, Miles now you later.

He knew you’d come back and when you did, he’d fix it.

If there was something he could fix in this fucked up world it was the mistakes he made with you.

“The files Lyla.” he said changing the subject.

Sighing, Lyla gave him what he wanted and left.

She didn't have the heart to tell him that you left your watch and your suit at HQ.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spider-man 2099 #spiderman #across the spiderverse

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 months

Note

It would be sad if Tim was a dove

his parents show off him and his likenesss to angels at galas before leaving him alone again

After a long night of fighting in the city smog and grime goes to vacation at his wings look similar to Jason’s pigeon wings and the way Bruce looks at him? That hurts

if they have traits of their birds welp mourning doves mate for life and will just like slowly sink into depression without their love, and everyone Tim has ever loved dies constantly so that’s neat

during the tt attack Jason goes at them bc “doves are just better pigeons” and Jason is grumpy

people seem to forget that doves are used at weddings and funerals, they are a blessing and an apology

dick hates Tim’s wings at first bc divks moms wings were like a Eurasian collared doves wings (dick inherited his dads wings) so every time he sees them he is reminded of her

Damian probably see them as another part of his perfect brother, can do nothing wrong so everyone hates me compared to him lenses that Damian wears bc a bird with undying loyalty and easy to train?

Steph probably preened with Tim as like bonding, instead of just cleaning, and Tim probably was just so happy

The shot in the back ruined one of Babs wings as well and so she probably has Tim fly around and grab the things she needs up high and he listens like a good little brother

Tim approaches Duke when he is all moved in and offers to help him preen (dukes parents always did it with him) and this helps duke feel included

It would be fun if one day Tim gets really hurts and his feathers are tinted red when they find him

Oh, fuck. I love pigeons. Sorry. I got distracted... but the symbolism with Jason being a pigeon???

Fuck.

Right. Quick history with pigeons: They were originally domesticated animals and the oldest documented domesticated bird. Their wild lifespan is 2-5 years. If they are domesticated, it's 15 up to 30 years.

They are loving, intelligent animals. They are some of the few birds to:

Have a form of milk

Mate for life

Equal child-rearing between sexes

Recognize themselves in mirrors

Humans threw away pigeons after using them for message carrying, bombs, and spying.

The wealthy used to breed pigeons to have appealing features (which can be used as Jason's initial misconceptions about why Bruce Wayne is adopting him in this AU).

They are widely considered to be pests, vermin, or "rats with wings."

Some more symbolism with Jason, pigeons have a "GPS" and can find home from an unfamiliar place up to 620 miles away. Maybe something something Jason wandering closer to Wayne Manor before the LoA captured. Something about the Pits fucking with his homing abilities.

Anyways. I got distracted.

Tim as a dove... Let's go!

Pigeon and dove, according to online research, are used interchangeably. Some languages translate them the same (symbolism with Tim and Jason???)

Saw a joke about doves being pigeons with good PR

Doves are typically smaller than pigeons but have a longer tail

Doves are symbols of peace, though they have been used in war like pigeons

Mourning doves make flimsy, fast nests and are not picky about location (something something Tim with the Waynes??)

Mourning doves are some of the most adaptable species in North America, they are skitish, and they are chill

Apparently, wedding doves are typically just pigeons???? If they aren't pigeons, then they don't have the homing properties and are endangered by the sudden release into the wild

Anyways, totally fucking with this idea ^^

#tim drake #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #jason todd

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romcomxb · 3 months

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No but Goose would be the most chill person ever to be friends with.

You’re gay? No problem- in fact, give me fashion advice homie.

You’re not comfortable doing something? Yhat’s chill, we can stay home and bake brownies.

So when Mav came out to Nick when they were teens or something, he barley even batted an eye. He probably already guessed, or had some idea that Mav wasn’t as heterosexual as he made out to be, even if he didn’t have the right words for it.

He probably had a spot on gaydar as well, and could have clocked someone from a mile away.

#this was sitting in my drafts fr ages #idk what i think about it #‘its not gay if you have socks on’ according to goose #wouldn’t have batted an eye when bradley came out-#top gun fandom #top gun #top gun 1986 #nick goose bradshaw #top gun goose #top gun headcanons #headcanon #my headcanons #tassieshcs

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spidrgirl · 9 months

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MILES MORALES 1610 X READER

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅

Masterlist: here ➼

Pairing: Miles Morales x sweet girlfriend ᥫ᭡

Synopsis: Headcanons of miles (1610) and his sweet girlfriend who he is absolutely obsessed with and whipped for!

Genre: fluff + slight angst

Word count: 801

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅

➳ Miles morales loveees quality time with the people who loves, and especially with you. If you arent laid up at his house chilling while watching him play video games, you were probably out exploring the city of New York with eachother.

➳ Miles Morales definitely likes hugs. You know, the kinds of hugs where he can smell your perfume and become so lost in the scent that he'll still be able to smell it when you let go of him. The kind of hugs where your soft and warm body is pressed against his, and he just feels like he's at home.

"can i have one more hug ma? ion wanna let you go yet.." he'll mutter before slowly bringing you closer to him.

➳ Miles morales who is always scouting for you. When he's at school, he's looking through hallways just to get a glimpse of you. during nightly patrols, he swings by your houses and glances into your window hoping to see you peacefully sleeping in the security of your home. When he knows that you are, he finally feels okay.

"Thank god shes alright" He whispers to himself before swinging back around the city.

➳ Miles Morales definitely loves when you plays with his hair. He loves feeling your soft fingers softly massaging his scalp while you tell him all the things you did that day, or just things that you want to do in the future. Whatever it is, he loves hearing it just because *you're* the one talking.

"Mhm, tell me more mama" he'll mumble while slowly falling asleep in your arms.

➳ Miles Morales likes kisses! Kisses on his neck, jaw, or cheeks just make him fold everytime. You can definitely expect makeout sessions to frank ocean or the weeknd playing in the background of his dark room, one of his hands draped around your waist and the other in your hair or cupping your cheeks.

➳ Miles Morales who hates arguing with you. He doesn't like leaving any conversation on a bad note, especially after Uncle Aarons death. He just feels like any moment could be the last he spends with you, so he tries to make the most out of any and every conversation he has with you.

➳ Miles Morales who sometimes has his days where all he thinks about is Uncle Aaron. He comes to your house, enters your room without even knocking with low eyes and a tense body. You immediately rush to him, giving him kisses and multiple hugs while reminding him that his uncle would be so proud of him.

He doesn't say anything in reponse in that moment, but you know he's grateful that he can always rely on you in situations like these.

➳ Miles Morales who sometimes calls you late at night holding back tears, especially when he hasn't had much time to see you because of spidey-business. He constantly goes on mute so you won't hear him sniffling, but you can always tell.

He just misses his sweet girl so much, and feels like he isn't doing enough to make time for her. You always remind him that he's always enough, and forever will be.

"I-I dont know. I just..." he pauses, trying to find the right words to say."I just miss you, that's all. I feel like we dont spend as much time as we should..and its my fault you know?".

➳ Miles Morales who helps you study. Sometimes, you feel really stupid around him. You're smart, but you dont feel like you're smart in the same way he is. It seems like he always knows the answers to everything, while you struggle with answering even the most basic of questions. He reassures you that you are smart, and probably even more so than he is. It doesn't convince you though, so he makes time after school to help you study and do homework with him. Really though, its just an excuse to hang out with you.

"See ma? You aren't stupid. You just need to stop doubting yourself. Podrías ser mucho mejor que yo si simplemente crees en ti mismo." He'll tell you, pulling you in for a hug as he plants soft kisses all over your face.

➳ Miles Morales who gives you the first and last bites of his food. If you have problems with eating, he'll always reassure you that your body is fine just that way it is, and encourage you to eat with him.

"Say ah.." he'll urge, holding a spoon full of the pozole his mother had made just a few hours prior.

➳ Miles Morales will always win the 'i love you more' game. No matter how much you try to argue that you love him the most, he knows that it'll always be the opposite. Its just no topping his love for you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅

☆

#tags #milesmorales #milesmoralesupremacy #milesmoralesfluff #acrossthespiderverse !!

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales headcanons #miles morales x you #miles morales headcannons #spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #miles morales 1610 #miles morales #fyp #writers on tumblr #writeblr #headcanon #miles morales spiderverse

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redstarwriting · 1 year

Text

the clash | ii. time bomb

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 1.5k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, y’all almost fight twice lmao

a/n: felt bad only posting the first chapter, so here’s the second one as well! i’ll get the third one out as soon as i can, but a bitch has work tomorrow and the next day. please enjoy chapter two everyone! and if you wanna be added to the taglist just let me know! :)

now reading: ii. time bomb

previous chapter: i. hey, ho! let’s go!

next chapter: iii. black planet

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Hobie swings his way to where he’s sure Gwen is, and in doing so he will probably also find Miles and Pavitr. He’s sure he looks like if someone said the wrong thing to him, he would punch them in the face, because honestly? He just might. And he doesn’t care. You pissed him off. With your stupid opinions. People like you are the reason anarchy can never succeed, you’re either all in or you’re all out. He hates the way you dismissed him, which is a shame because he really thought you were drop-dead gorgeous.

Speaking of drop, that thought makes him drop. Like, actually. He face plants.

He groans. Fucking hell, he’s never had to deal with this type of hatred before. Usually, it’s just cut and dry ‘I hate you cause xyz’, but fuck you are making it hard. While he hates you for what you said, he loves your style, and he respects you standing your ground and not giving into him with your beliefs, but at the same time, you piss him off. He glances around, “Meant to do that.” No one in particular hears him, but he quickly webs off again. He searches for bright blond hair, and sure enough, he sees Gwen. She’s chilling in the common room Hobie claimed as his own a while back. He claimed it by… redecorating. He just made it feel more like home, and since Miguel is such a lame ass, he didn’t appreciate all the colorful spray paint and broken furniture. But Hobie doesn’t really give a fuck. As he gets closer, he can see that Miles and Pavitr are there too, and… absolutely fucking not.

He lands directly next to you with an unamused look on his face. “And who invited you into my home away from home?” You look at him and roll your eyes. “This your place? Well, that explains why it looks like someone gave Mayday Parker a 50-pack of markers and told her to go to town in here–”

“Ha ha. Funny.”

“–and to answer your question, I invited myself,” you say smugly, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t try to make me like you, it’s not gonna work, love,” he growls, and everyone can tell by the way he said love that he certainly did not mean it as a term of endearment. “I wouldn’t dream of it, mate,” you say, imitating his accent in over-exaggerated way. “I don’t think they are actually calling him their mate,” Pavitr whispers to Miles, who gives him an expression practically dripping in ‘no shit.’ Hobie tears his gaze away from you and looks at Gwen. “We need to show this twat around,” he huffs, and Gwen raises her eyebrows. “We? Isn’t that your job,” she says, and Miles nods. “Yeah, I remember you said you made a deal with Miguel that–”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s my ‘job,’ when have I ever followed the rules of a fuckin’ job?” he seethes, and you snicker. “Aw, how endearing, the punk rebel has a job. I’ll be sure to go to Miguel and tell him you’re doing amazing, so that you don’t get fired, in fact, you could get promoted!”

“That’s it,” Hobie growls and turns to you, grabbing the neck of his guitar and getting ready to use it. You smirk and slightly crouch, ready to jump away or towards him, based on his next move. “OKAY! Okay, we’ll help you just put the damn guitar down,” Miles says, jumping between the two of you. Hobie looks at him before looking at you with a deep frown. “I don’t need help. I just need to make sure other people are here, so I don’t murder this nitwit,” he says, tossing his guitar back so it hangs off his back again. “If anythin’, you’re helpin’ them.”

“I don’t need help either. Especially not yours. I’ll find my way around here myself,” you say, crossing your arms. He turns and offers you a smile. “Well now that you say you definitely don’t want my help, looks like I’m gonna be that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and assist you.”

“My hero,” you say sarcastically, pushing past him and walking out of the room. He motions for the others to follow you first, and walks out last, slinking in the back. Gwen takes up the role he usually plays in showing everyone around. You nod and listen, occasionally asking a question and cracking a joke. He hates to admit it, but your jokes are actually very funny. It’s refreshing to hear deadpan, straightforward, dry comedy instead of the puns and silly jokes all the other Spider-People love to make. But he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. Just watches you.

‘Like a creep,’ you think, catching him staring at you for what feels like the 50th time. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the attention you were getting from him. Truthfully, he’s probably the most attractive person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Such a tragedy he’s also the worst person you’ve ever had the displeasure to speak with.

“Your suit is so cool, by the way,” Miles says to you, and you give him a grin. “Thanks. Made it myself.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” you hear Hobie pipe up, and your head snaps towards him. “Because it’s so stylish, fashionable, and better than anything you could do yourself?”

“No. ‘Cause it looks like it was put together by a colorblind toddler. If you look close enough, the blacks don’t even match,” he says, smirking. Now this was a lie. All the black in your suit was a perfect shade of raven, he just knew it would piss you off. And it did. “Fuck you. At least my suit doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old who just discovered Hot Topic for the first time,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth there, mate.”

“You watch yours, mate.”

“Okay, both of you shhhhhhh!” Gwen says, and you both look at her. “Don’t tell me what to do–”

“Stop talking like me!”

“What?! You stop talking like me!”

“Oh my God, the romantic tension is through the roof right now!” Pavitr suddenly pipes up, and now the both of you are staring at him, dark expressions on your faces. “I’d rather be eaten alive by a single piranha so it would take days until I finally succumbed to the sweet release of death,” you hiss and Hobie nods. “Finally. Somethin’ we agree on.” He turns and looks at you, and you roll your eyes at him. “Way to de-escalate, buddy,” Miles whispers to Pavitr, and Pavitr sighs as Miles walks a little faster to catch up with everyone else. “But I was being serious…”

Gwen continues to show you around, and when she finally finishes, you all are back at ‘Hobie’s common room.’ You walk back inside and sit on the tattered and broken-down couch. The way the room is decorated is kind of cool, you must admit. You’re just not a fan of the mismatched colors everywhere. And it could use a couple more decorations. Like bat skeletons. Or just live bats. That would be adorable. “Thanks for showing me around,” you thank Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr. “Not you, though,” you say to Hobie and he snorts. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to thank me for anything.”

“Why do you two hate each other so much? Didn’t you literally just meet?” Miles asks, looking exhausted from the snarky remarks coming from both of you. “We did,” you confirm. “And we don’t get along cause they don’t have any strong belief system.”

“Yes, I do! I’m just realistic, and he can’t understand that,” you say and he rolls his eyes. “Realistic, eh? I already told you I led a rebellion.”

“And I told you it doesn’t matter because everyone is shit. How many villains have you fought since this rebellion you led?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“So, you’ve fought at least one. What did that rebellion get you then, huh?”

“I recommend you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Please, do try. I need a new skeleton for my collection,” you growl and the two of you jump at each other. Luckily, Gwen and Miles web both of you and hold you back. “That’s enough of that,” Gwen says. “I have an idea,” Miles says, “why don’t we go visit your universe, (Y/n)? Maybe then Hobie can see why you’re so… negative.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere near that place,” Hobie nearly yells. “Good. I don’t want you there anyway.”

“On second thought, I think it might be very eye-opening to see the world you grew up in. Maybe I can team up with your sinister six and put you in your place,” he spits out at you, causing you to glare at him and flip him off again. “A field trip sounds fun, especially after all this just happened. Maybe it will help the two of you lighten up,” Pavitr says, and you both roll your eyes. “Fine. You can all come. But if you step one toe out of line, Hobie–”

“What? You’ll yell at me?”

“No. I’ll torture you to the point that you would beg me for death.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

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『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @khaleesihavilliard @sparklyphantom @weyrrii*

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

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multifariousqueer · 1 year

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im starving for 42 miles and i agree w ur hcs so can u pls write a fem reader fic where we’re chilling at home n he js barges in one night all roughed up n he has heaps of cuts n is bloody- and we get concerned but we know not to ask so we js silently patch him up while he stares at us (and hes got like sm thoughts in his head ab how much he loves us and appreciates us etc) and u can finish it off BUT YEAH

also pls include the pet names cos his accent has me WEAKKK and ik he def calls us ma and mami😩😩😩

Ofc Love!!! I’ve wanted to get this done for a bit now so here it is!!:

A/n: keep requesting miles!42 and regular miles fics please!! 🩷

Warnings: suggestiveness at the end, make out sessions, angst, fluff, groping(it’s consensual and it’s only seen when you squint), love confessions, possible spoilers if you haven’t seen atsv yet

3:00 AM

You: miles, baby are you okay?

Seen

You: are you mad at me for the joke I made about your braids being fluffy?

Seen

You: I didn’t mean it

You: text me when you can. Love you 🩷🩷

Seen

You fell asleep exasperated like you’ve been doing for the last three weeks now. Miles hasn’t been answering any of your texts or calls and has been leaving you on seen for no reason. When you did see him in person, he looked tired and diminished. Ever since his dad died, he’s been acting weird like this; but you could understand why. Although him and Uncle Aaron were closer, Miles was still really close to his dad and his dad loved you. You came over Rio and Miles’ house every day since then and tried to provide solace to them but Miles was always gone when you came over. His room looked different too, having ditched the bright superhero posters and traded them in for boxing gloves and a punching bag. Thankfully, you had established trust with Miles and he knew he could come to you any time, you just didn’t expect him to come through your window at 4:00 AM on a Saturday morning.

It was about 3:15 when he saw your message, he wondered why you were still up and what were you doing but he couldn’t ponder the question for too long because he had someone chained up to his punching bag.

“Miles? Get off your phone, man.”- Uncle Aaron’s voice brought Miles back to reality

Miles did as told and geared up to kill the young boy who looked exactly like himself when all of a sudden, the chains fell and the doppelgänger swung at Miles’ perfectly structured face. A few of the punches connected but he was still able to subdue the mirrored image of himself(if everything went right).

However, Miles’ suit had been clobbered, his clothes covered in blood from a broken nose and blood from the fight. Even though he won, he couldn’t go back to his house because his mom would admonish him for this and Uncle Aaron was keeping watch so he went to your house.

You heard faint tapping on the window that you had assumed it was a bird, until the tapping became a loud knocking. You scurried up grabbing the nearest thing that looked like a weapon and went to the window. You found a battered Miles and knew something was wrong:

“Miles?”-you whisper shouted

“Ola mi amor” he said, trying to be suave but flinching in pain

You opened the window and let him in. You knew he was rough and bloodied up for a reason but it was late(or early depending on how you look at it) and you knew he wouldn’t tell you why; a small part of you also knew but chose not to acknowledge it. You just silently grabbed the first aid kit and patched him up as best as you could. You noticed he had a broken nose:

“Rough night?” You Said, trying to ease the tension

Miles didn’t reply, rather he looked at you through bruised eyes and simply nodded.

“Your nose is broken. You should probably go the the hospital for that” you said, nonchalantly

“Can’t you fix it?” He mumbled

“not easily” you mumbled, mocking his tone

He gave you an annoyed glare before saying:

“I’m sorry to come in late like this. And I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, Mami; it’s a lot going on that you wouldn’t understand and I’m trying to protect you.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to call or text” you said while closing the first-aid kit.

“I knew you would’ve worried about me and I didn’t want that” he said, hanging his head

“I’m your girlfriend, it’s my job to worry about you” you chuckled

It was like a Disney movie, Miles realized that if no one else would, you would hold it down for him and that you were gonna be there through thick and thin. He knew he loved you but this solidified it in his mind; he knew that if he survived long enough, you were gonna be his wife. It would be you waking him up everyday, it would be you kissing him goodnight and good morning, it would be you carrying and having his babies. Some days, he would wake up and wonder how he got so lucky with someone like you but he never thought too much into it because he knew he would find a way to sabotage it for himself but now, he didn’t care:

“I love you, Y/n” he said

“I love you too, Miles” you replied softly

“No. I mean like I love you so much that I can’t stand it, I wanna marry you, Y/n and be with you for life. If no one else has me, I know you do and I can’t even imagine myself without you.” Miles said

You started to tear up before crashing your lips onto his. Your lips moved in perfect sync as he grabbed your hips with one hand, and cupped your face in the other. You stayed this way for a while until Miles slipped his tongue into your mouth, battling for dominance against your tongue which he emerged victorious. He started moving his other hand to your ass as you moved yours to his chest when suddenly, you hear your parent call out:

“Y/n!!!”

“Yeah” you replied nervously, Miles leaving a trail of kisses down your neck

“Breakfast is ready” they shouted

You looked at your phone as Miles rubbed your back and saw it was 8:00 already.

“Shit” You Said under your breath, partly because of how Miles was making you feel

“Go Mamà, we’ll finish this later” he said against his neck

“Okay I love you, call me this time” you smiled

“Por supesto, Mami” he replied

You went down for breakfast and sat in your normal spot:

“Y/n?” Your parent said

“Yeah?” You replied

“What’s that on your neck?” They smirked

Damn it Miles

Translations

Por supesto- of course

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales headcannons #miles x reader #miles!prowler #miles morales x reader #miles morales #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #miles!spiderman #earth42!miles #earth 42 #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #spider verse #marvel #foryou

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