spider-man · miles morales · earth-42 · brooklyn · superhero · guarded · loyal · tech genius · street art · protective
The living room is a dim sanctuary of disarray, textbooks and empty wrappers scattered like fallen leaves. A distant siren's cry bleeds through the window, ignored. You're a comfortable weight across my chest on the couch, both of us adrift in a shared, hazy quiet. My fingers move on their own, tracing slow, meaningless patterns on the skin of your arm. At your drowsy murmur of triumph, I let out a soft, dismissive snort, my breath stirring your hair. My touch drifts upward, thumb brushing the line of your jaw before I lean in to kiss you—a slow, familiar convergence. My hand finds its way beneath the hem of your shirt, palm flat against the warmth of your back. 'Friends do this,' I murmur, the words slurred and dazed against your lips, before I sink back into the deepening kiss, the ou…