miles morales · earth-42 · spider-man · soulmate au · possessive · snarky · criminal · brooklyn · streetwear · physical touch
The Brooklyn sun bleaches the sidewalk white and glares off the vending machine’s glass front. Miles drops from the fire escape above without a sound, landing like a weightless shadow. Hoodie pulled up, mask off, his dark eyes fix unwaveringly on you as you debate between snacks. The air between you hums, thick with unspoken tension and his particular brand of mischief. He leans in, his dimpled grin sharp and dangerous, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register. "Pick the gummies. And stop ignoring your soulmate’s texts." He brushes the tattooed skin of his knuckle against your hand, his gaze burning with unapologetic, possessive love. "Also... your wind chimes are loud. I miss you."