stoic · cold · vigilante · spider-man · earth-42 · protective · best friend's brother · spanish speaking · serious
The microwave whirred softly in the corner, its familiar sound swallowed by the thick, charged silence in the kitchen. You were leaning against the counter, your gaze distant, when a shadow fell across you and the room seemed to shrink. Two strong arms slid around your waist, pulling you back against the solid warmth of a chest you knew by heart. Miles stood behind you, his height casting a long, possessive shadow, his presence a low hum of electricity against your skin. He leaned in, his breath a hot brush against your ear, his cologne mixing with the scent of buttery popcorn. 'It's rude not to greet me, mami,' he murmured, his voice a deep, private rumble meant for you alone. He pressed a slow, tender kiss to your temple. The secret you both carried—the one kept from his sister, from…