[chishiyae]

❛ BABY, IF YOU WANNA LEAVE ❜

— COME TO CALIFORNIA . . . and meet ellie’s lover

. . ࣪ ˖ 𝓇𝒶𝓎 ! 🤎: 𖧷 @peaktora .┊minor┊blk┊s!her ┊fluff & suggestive writer ONLY.┊this is a sideblog and therefore, i can’t follow back on this account.

IMPORTANT LINKS

m.list ︴guidelines ︴most recent post

[peaktora]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒: 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊you and your daughter make breakfast for gojo’s birthday. unlucky for you, gojo’s a little impatient.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊1.3k words. established relationship. the reader is referred as “mommy” by the kid & “wife” from gojo, but other than that there’s no use of fem terms.

a/n. — should i continue not specifying the kid’s name? or would u all prefer if i named her?? (someone please answer)

you hold the bowl of pancake batter, its creamy consistency clinging to the sides. with a gentle tilt, you pour the batter onto the pan, creating round pools of golden goodness. the batter spreads, forming wonky circles that sizzle and bubble as they cook. the aroma of the pancakes fills the air, a tantalizing scent that promises a delicious breakfast. you can’t help but turn up the heat so that they cook faster.

“mommy, i think i’m turning into a minion,” your daughter calls out from behind.

you turn around, only to find her sitting at her mini table. her eyes are fixed on her tiny fingers, that are spread out in front of her.

“what do you mean?" your words hang in the air momentarily before you turn your gaze back to the stove. with a flick of your wrist, you flip the pancakes, their golden surfaces glistening in the warm light.

“’m turning purple! look!”

you take another glance back. her hands in the air being the first thing you see. but, then you notice the bag of blueberries sitting on the table.

your lips quiver as you fight to stifle your smile. “baby, it’s the the blueberries you’re munching on that are making you purple.”

her eyes widen, she lowers her hands, and this time she looks at them with a slight pout.

you return to making pancakes, plating the few that seemed to be done. one was on the verge of being burned, and you intended to give it to gojo. he's been calling you nonstop ever since you came downstairs this morning, asking for updates on his birthday breakfast. you're sure if it hadn't been for your baby girl (who insisted on giving her father breakfast in bed), you'd have forced him get up and do it himself by now.

"mommy, can we put blueberries in the pancakes? pretty please?”

“of course.”

you don’t need to turn around to know what your child is up to. you hear the unmistakable sound of her stuffing blueberries into her mouth. a soft giggle escapes your lips as you imagine the adorable scene unfolding behind you.

"yay!! speci...purpl...pancakes!" the excitement in her voice is evident, even with her mouth full.

"hey! if you're gonna be putting blueberries in the pancakes, you can't be eatin-" just then, your phone rings.

you catch a glimpse of the screen, noticing the familiar contact photo under 'my love'. oh, he's definitely getting a burnt pancake. you might even make another on purpose.

knowing he'll just ask about breakfast, you decide to watch it ring. he calls at least twice before his voice echoes through the house, urgently calling for his daughter to answer the phone. with blueberry-stained hands, she skips to the counter, reaching for your phone and answering it.

“hi daddy!” she waves in the camera.

“hi my sweet girl, what’s your momma doing?”

she turns the phone around, and through the camera, gojo can see you plating the remaining pancakes from the pan.

“those are the boring pancakes, mama’s making purple ones next!”

“can i have some of the boring ones first? i’m starving,” your husband whines.

“no, no, no! mama said you have to wait.”

“can i see that?” you fumble, trying to find a clean spot on your apron to wipe your hands off.

your daughters huffs at gojo, eager to hand over the phone and retreats to her table.

on the screen, you’re greeted by the sight of gojo’s smile and his relaxed, sprawled-out posture.

despite his sweet face, you hover your finger over the end call button anyway. “bye satoru.”

his smile drops. “that’s not even fair. it’s been—what—an hour?”

“with lots of breaks thanks to you.”

“you can talk to me and cook…bonus points for me being able to watch you.”

at that, you roll your eyes.

he frowns. "what?”

“a few more minutes of waiting won’t hurt.” you press the "end call" button, cutting off gojo’s pleads mid-sentence.

he’ll be fine.

you gently place your phone on the counter, shifting your focus to your little one. with a warm smile, you ask, "you wanna add the blueberries now, baby?"

"huh?" she mumbles, raising her head from where she was plucking at her fingers. "what did y’say?”

you playfully shake the bowl of leftover pancake batter in front of your face, capturing your daughter's attention. it's your way of letting your daughter in on the secret, a non-verbal cue to convey what exciting plan you have in store next. “you ready?”

"yes!" she runs towards you, giggling uncontrollably. in her hands, she's got the bag of half-eaten blueberries. the ones you specifically told her not to keep munching on, but she couldn't really resist. as she draws near, she extends her hands high into the air, a silent request for you to lift her onto the counter. without hesitation, your arms embrace your little one, effortlessly hoisting her up. in a matter of seconds, she’s perched on the counter.

you both scoop a handful of blueberries, and sprinkle the berries into the bowl of leftover pancake batter, watching as the vibrant blue jewels disappear into the mixture.

just as you two start to get lost in your pancake-making bliss, a faint sound of footsteps echoes from upstairs. your girl’s eyes widen as gojo sluggishly descends the stairs, rubbing his eyes and tousling his hair.

for a split second, you manage to catch his attention. you raise your brow, wondering if he ever learned the basics of patience (or if he learned patience at all). but, true to his slow demeanor, he remains unfazed, maintaining his relaxed pace.

with a sleepy smile, he joins you at the kitchen counter, wrapping his hands around your middle. the feeling is pure warmth, like a human blanket. it's amazing how, even after so much physical contact, his touch manages to make you feel cozier with each touch.

you lean in closer to him, trying to catch what he whispered in your ear. "hm? what was that?"

“food?”

you sigh, “I wanted us to all eat it together. when it’s done?”

he groans and retreats, making a beeline for the ready-made pancakes. you catch his eye and shout, "uhn uh!"

as your daughter continues to drop blueberries in the bowl, you quickly place your hand over her lap to keep her steady. with your other hand, you tug on gojo's sleeve. you give him a gesture to come back, and he follows your lead.

“I’ll do it,” you say.

you head over to the counter where the finished pancakes are, and plate a single piece. as you bring it to him, you glance at the black crispy top and think, "I definitely should've made more of these."

you slide the plate in front of him, and your daughter cringes at the sight. “ta-da! happy birthday baby! since it’s a special day I tried a new recipe and…” you shrug.

gojo licks his lips, bites them, and lets out a breathy laugh. he keeps glancing at you and then the pancakes, repeating the sequence.

you nod your head and motion towards the food with an open hand. “I thought you wanted to eat?”

glancing cautiously at his daughter, he replies, “wow, babe. you really outdid yourself this time. burnt pancakes?” he turns to you. “and you said you were a ‘better cook’ than me.”

you ignore his comment. “maybe I should make these more often? I kn— “

“oh, absolutely. I mean, who needs fluffy, huge pancakes when you can have charcoal—“ he picks up the pancake, “discs?”

with your daughter's laughter in the background, it creates a unique blend. it adds charm to our conversation, despite the contrasting moods.

you cross your arms, “you should be proud I made them without shape cutters. pretty creative,” you pause. “now eat up.”

“there’s no way in hell y—“

“daddy has to put money in the swear jar!”

+ for the sake of this scenario everyone pretend it’s december 7th & it’s gojo’s birthday

[peaktora]

𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 ˚◞♡ ⃗ dad!satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ when gojo comes home, he’s delighted to see his daughter applying makeup to his wife's face.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. you & gojo have a daughter (obviously). established relationship. the reader is referred as “mommy” by the kid but other than that there’s no use of fem terms.

a/n. — i completelyy overdid it, this was supposed to be under six hundred words but oh well

late at night, with the moon casting a soft glow, gojo wearily steps into his home. all he wanted now was to unwind. his body was sore and he craved food, a hot shower, and then sleep. as fast as possible. which he was sure would be put on hold because of you and his daughter. two people he trusted were still awake — who always stayed up just to see him.

he laughs to himself, remembering the countless times he scolded you and your daughter for sacrificing your sleep. but in truth, he loved the surprises he came home to. whether it was you two baking together, with him joining in, or watching a movie where he'd have to catch up on the first 30 minutes, he cherished those moments spent with you and your daughter. it was a family thing.

he quietly slips off his shoes and places them on the wooden rack, the only sound in the house. "they must be sleep," he reasons. he couldn't help but frown. carefully tiptoeing to the kitchen, he heads straight to the fridge, first thing on the list of unwinding being food.

just as he's about to open the fridge, a symphony of giggles dances down from upstairs.

his brows furrowed, hand hesitating on the fridge handle, and glancing towards the stairway. after about thirty seconds of silence, he's convinced that he must've misheard it. but to his surprise, he hears it again.

a smile spreads across his face, knowing his girls were indeed awake and waiting for him.

his mind races as he weighs the options: dinner or investigate the source of the giggles? though deep down, he knows it's a pointless battle. especially when without a second thought, he finds himself practically skipping upstairs. anticipation intertwines with exhaustion, knowing that his loved ones awaits, ready to embrace him in their hold.

thankfully, the sound was so loud that it led him straight to the room where the laughter was coming from. as he approached his bedroom door, voices began to replace the laughter, growing louder and more distinct.

“hmm…what should we do now?”

“well, you’ve got a lot of options.”

his curiosity piqued, he tiptoed closer, skillfully avoiding the creaky floorboards he knew so well. with a gentle touch, he pushed the door open just enough to create a small crack, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the scene inside.

there, in the softly lit room, his daughter sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by an array of colorful makeup. the girl’s tiny fingers carefully picked up an eyeliner pencil, her brows furrowing in concentration.

"okay, eyeliner is next mommy!" she declared.

you chuckled softly, leaning closer to her. "alright, my little artist, show me what you've got.”

sitting face to face, eyes locked in a shared moment of love and trust, she delicately traced the pencil along your eyelids. her movements were a mix of focus and excitement, her small hands guided by an invisible artistic instinct. as the lines took shape, her face brightened more and more.

"you're doing great, my little artist," you whispered, voice filled with pride.

she just poked her tongue out from the corner of her lips.

even by only looking through the door, gojo’s heart swelled with a mixture of pride and tenderness watching the scene unfold. it was a simple moment, yet it held so much love. and he loved that.

just as he started to close the door, a sudden creak reverberated through the room. damn it. he stands frozen, desperately hoping that neither of you had noticed. but his hopes were dashed when his daughter's voice rang out, "daddy, is that you?"

his nerves tingled, and he hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage before finally responding, "yes, sweetheart, it's me."

he slowly pushes the door open, finally revealing his presence. your eyes lock, and a silent conversation unfolds, filled with unspoken words and understanding. it was as if he wanted to say he should've let you know he was here, but before he could speak, the girl infront of you interrupted.

"daddy, come join us!" she exclaimed.

he quickly took a seat beside you, watching as his daughter moved from you to him with the eyeliner in hand.

gojo playfully shook his head, teasing his kid, "no way, kiddo. eyeliner isn’t my style." though once she pouted, he couldn't resist her charm, and with a smile, he relented, "alright, just this once."

"maybe twice," she added, dragging the pencil gently along his eyelid.

“maybe twice.” in his head, he was more than happy to let her do it as many times as she wanted.

groaning, you stood up. “well, you two have fun."

gojo shut his eyes, "hey, how ‘bout a little photoshoot after this?" he suggests.

you place a kiss on his head, "yeah, no, tough pass." and with that, you retreated into the bathroom.

soon as gojo heard the bathroom light flicker on, he peaked open an eye, a playful grin on his face. "looks like it's just me and you now, kiddo.”

“close your eyes!” she huffed.

he obediently replied, "yes ma'am," as she closed his eyes for him.

it didn't matter to him if his eyeliner was smudged or if he hadn't done his nightly routine as planned. what mattered was him getting to add another midnight memory to his collection of family moments.

for the most part, he didn't really care if you three stayed up late if it meant he could add more. actually, scratch that — and put an emphasis on "the most part" because he is fucking exhausted.

[chishiyae]

just watched jennifer’s body and came to the conclusion that colin needs to be talked about more

[chishiyae]

— OUT WITH A BANG ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] e42! miles morales, e1610!miles morales, spider noir, and hobie brown

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ summer is coming to an end, which means carnivals are making their final rounds before closing for good. so, what better way to round off the summer than to take your lover to one?

a/n. — this is literally just me coping with the fact summer is ending (+ i ran out of motivation for hobie guys i’m so sorry)

E42!MILES, will never be that boyfriend who spends a lot of money (whether he has it or not) on carnival games. let alone spend an hour trying to win you a stuffed animal. if he doesn't win whatever you want in the first two tries, he'll just ask the stand worker if he can buy it from them. now, as ridiculous as it may sound, given the amount of money he offers on the spot, the workers sometimes just give in. rather having free money than a stuffed animal. you hate the fact that he bribes his way of getting it. you could’ve gone to build a bear if you wanted him to buy you a stuffed animal. but you didn't want that; you brought him to the carnival for a reason. for bonding time. and playing games together was apart of that. but did you intend to tell him? no. because it’d look like you’re forcing it, so you stated that bribery wouldn’t work (until it did). and if that were to happen, because miles can't let things go, a conversation can go something like this:

“told you i’d get it, princesa,” miles brags. he’s walking alongside you, a smirk on his face as he watches you holding your stuffed bear.

you just shake your head, choosing not to say anything to him. that way, you avoid giving him any form of satisfaction. the satisfaction of anything. even kissing if it came down to it.

he nudges your arm, and you just glare at him. he put up his hands in defense, saying, "my bad.”

you sigh, “c’mon, we need to go to the ticket booth.”

miles just snorts, resting a hand on your shoulder.

other than that, he really only comes for the food. he loves funnel cakes, and he'd carry your stuff while you went from ride to ride or game to game while he ate and watched.

not that he doesn't go on rides; it just depends on how he feels. he has unhealthy urges to feel the drop of his stomach on some days, but not on others. if you ask him enough times on a day when he doesn't want to go, he'll give in, but will give you the option of him going on that or the ferris wheel. he's not doing both.

E1610!MILES, spends half of his time at the carnival focused on the goldfish you won. making sure that it’s not knocked over or pushed around too much. it's better to go home at that point. because the longer you stay, he'll just rant about the fish needing a tank and wanting to get it out of the bag.

prior to the fish, he'd been really excited to go with you to the carnival. you two definitely planned this a week in advance so that he could make sure that his time was free, so he's been thinking about it nonstop for the past week.

after he waves goodbye to his parents, your hand is instantly grabbed and you two run to the rides together (him dragging you), and the rest is history.

i say that because the next hour ends in throw up. miles goes on every ride possible, so it's not just a small amount of vomit in his throat that he can swallow. it's a lot more than that. not exactly a pleasant memory, especially given the stares he received when he had his head hanging over a trash can. but it's all good, at least you two got to relax for a minute before getting up to play carnival games. a break is always helpful.

or maybe you should’ve stayed put and relaxed a little longer. maybe you wouldn't have ended up at the fish prize game that way. miles seemed to be more interested with the fish than with you…

SPIDERNOIR, is confused — but acts collected. the. entire. time. he might not show it, but he’s confused.

for starters, this would be the first time he'd ever been to a carnival that wasn't all live music and exotic animals; after all, it isn't the 1930s. he'd be sent to modern times (your dimension), where most games are rigged and rides need a little more attention and caution than is given.

he was wary of the rides once you explained how they operated. not only because of how they looked, but also because of a few incidences you told him about (you really should've left that part out). so he tried everything to keep you from getting on one. when you walked? he'd put his hand around your shoulder so that whenever he spotted a ride, he could walk the other way, dragging you along with him. he’s just trying to keep you safe. if you love carnival rides, you'd notice his actions and end up going on a ride against his will. after all, you didn't buy those tickets for nothing. he'd hold your stuff and wait for you just by the iron bars, eyes tracking your every move. when you get off, his hand is back over your shoulder, and he decides that under any circumstances, he isn't letting go.

instead, you'd spend the rest of your time at carnival games. somewhere that peter feels he can protect you. but you don't mind, not with him playing darts against you. he'd let you win only to watch you smile and brag about it, because if he didn't, he'd win, and that's not much of a prize, now is it?

gift giving is one of his love languages, and you can guarantee he’ll get you one here. he tries to win everything you want, and even after he's won you a couple of bears, he brings you flowers from the ground as something extra to give you. yeah. i’d call it a romantic act. it's like something out of a movie.

HOBIE, is in love with the rush of riding rollercoasters. that being said, he drags you on all the rides, and it's best not to ask questions because he'll just say, "the rides ain’t even scary, they ain’t got scary ones here." or “i’ll be righ’ by ya side, love.” when it comes down to it, if you really don't want to go on one, he won't make you. however, he will go on them by himself while you watch. then, when he gets off, he'll tell you all about his thoughts and feelings during the ride. you merely roll your eyes when he suggest you should've gone.

because it's packed, a hand is on your waist the entire time you two are walking, and he’s positioned behind you. if he thinks you're walking too fast, he'll pull your belt loops to get you closer. he's does it to keep you from being lost in the crowd, but he can't stop himself from lingering his fingers over the waistband of your jeans.

© 2023, CHISHIYAE

[dizscreams]

you ask you receive

treating spidernoir's wounds and him talking about how it doesn't hurt, you don't believe him, so you ask him what does hurt

he says "seeing your face when you see I'm injured."

ASTER I LITERALLY LOVE YOU SM.

PAIRING: Spidernoir x GN!Reader

You looked at the familiar figure outside your window with a sigh. It was nonother than Peter Parker, who just so happened to be your boyfriend and spiderman. It wasn't uncommon for him to show up at ungodly hours of the night, nor was it uncommon for him to show up seriously injured. You swiftly opened the window causing him to crawl through with a grunt and land on his feet. "Evening, darling. My, you look as good as ever."

He always tried smooth talking you when he had a particularly deep wound. "Come on, let's go to the bathroom," you told him tiredly. He followed you to the bathroom like a lost puppy. Once he entered the room he wasted no time in ripping off his mask and jumping on the sink counter.

He watched you as you quickly got all the supplies you needed, like it was routine. And it definitely was. Peter never meant it to become a routine. He hated doing this to you, but he didn't always have much of a choice. "Where's the wound?" You asked without looking at him as you entered the bathroom again. You set the supplies down next to him as he replied, "On my left side. It's not too bad."

You looked him up and down with a frown, "Take the suit off, please." He nodded and did what he was told, leaving him shirtless in front of you. You looked at the blood that was around the area with a look Peter couldn't quite read. He swears he thought you were about to cry. You got to work on patching him up as he watched you curiously. You were always so good at taking care of him, you were always so precise and delicate.

"Does it hurt?"

Your voice was soft and quiet but it still managed to startle Peter, as he had gotten used to the slightly uncomfortable silence that had taken over the night. He looked at you for a long moment before shaking his head, "No. It doesn't." You made eye contact with him for probably the first time tonight and looked at him slightly unamused. "Not even a little?" You sounded skeptical, like you thought he was lying.

"Not at all. Suppose I'm used to it by now," he replied smoothly which earned a scoff from you. "Each wound you have is shockingly worse than the last one and it never seems to hurt you. I'm starting to wonder if anything hurts you." He hummed as you continued to clean his side gently. "There is one thing," He stated calmly.

You raised your eyebrows, intrigued by his sudden confession, "Then what's that?" There was another moment of long silence before he replied. He put his head against the wall and slowly moved his hand to your wrist, the one wrist that was on his thigh.

"Seeing your face when you see me injured."

He gently grabbed your wrist and put it to his lips, giving it a chaste kiss before returning it back to his thigh. You looked at him mesmerized, as this was something he had never told you before. He looked back at you with the same lovesick look you had before you somewhat roughly pulled him in for a hug, "I love you, Peter. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

[chishiyae]

— NEW ADDITION ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] dad! miguel o’hara.

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ he always does what he claims he'll never do. but that side of him is reserved for you, his daughter.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.8k words. so much fluff. purposely lowercased words. not proofread. platonic father-daughter relationship. implied fem & teen!reader.

a/n. — more platonic miguel fics are needed, and i'm here to help (i also did my study before putting spanglish into this fic, so i hope i formatted appropriately; please let me know if I didn't).

given that miguel was rarely home after you got out of school, having a few extra hours to yourself until he arrived wasn't unusual. you got to spend time in the house doing whatever you wanted as if it were your own, and you enjoyed it. so it was natural for you to freeze when you saw him sitting on the couch with his legs propped up. what was unnatural was the golden white cat curled up on his lap.

every time you've suggested getting one, it's been denied. so, was he babysitting? scratch that. even if he was babysitting, he wouldn’t go so far as to actually pet the cat.

"hey, mija." he muttered. his gaze drawn to yours.

he didn't stop scratching it once.

"what happened to the guy that said that a cat would be a nuisance?" you hurriedly approached his side, lowering your bag to the floor. with your body half-slung over the couch, you tilted your head inquisitively and smirked at him.

he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "this one is a nuisance. mira, hay pelaje por todas partes."

you shake your head, but notice a small smile on his face.

miguel starts by asking you about school and then gives you a rundown of his own day — not that you were paying attention. it's not like you didn't want to, either.

your father's rant about work being drowned out by your eyes flitting between the floor and the cat. you were debating whether to watch this rare sight or grab the cat for yourself. the second option was more considered. besides, it could only be a matter of minutes before the cat had to leave. you lick your lips and give miguel one more look before gathering the cat into your arms.

"hey, hey, hey—" the cat's claws burrowing into his skin. “shit—"

you let go instinctively, "'m sor—"

"you're good just," he clenched his jaw as the cat finished settling into his lap, "don't do that without warning."

for a moment, all that could be heard was his hissing. “so…what made you babysit a cat?" your fingers twitching in anticipation of the scar.

he looked up at you with a squinted eye, “what?” his voice strained.

"my dad? taking care of a cat? that's news," you reply completely faced him now, "because you wouldn't even let me have one."

"seeing how much i payed for him, i think he’s yours, yeah?"

he was shifting too much on the couch to read your shocked expression, but it was definitely there. okay, so he wasn't babysitting, but you wouldn't lie and say the sight of him giving in to your requests wasn't amusing.

miguel raised his brow as he stared at you from the corner of his eye. "¿te ríes de mí?”

at that, you couldn’t help but allow your smile to blend into a laugh.

"oh so you are laughing," he admits, "guess you won't get to name him then."

with his shoulders shrugged and severe voice, you'd think he was serious, yet his expression didn't fit that description. so you played along.

"he doesn't even like me.”

"he'll have to eventually," miguel sighed. “else im taking him back," he noted, pointing to a small cage in the corner of the room.

"you wouldn't." you gasped, but he didn't deny it, instead slumping in his seat. "you wouldn't!"

silence.

oh, you weren't going to take quiet for an answer. you hit him this time, and his yelp broke the silence.

"do you beat up on people at school?" he asks, kneading his arm dramatically. "that's very bad behavior." he raises his finger toward you.

you simply cross your arms.

despite miguel’s best attempts, he caved. an answer slipping from his lips in almost an instant. when it came to you, he couldn't help himself.

“it’s for you, not me.”

"well, you're petting it like it's yours, and he's hating me like it, too."

"it's 'cause you're hitting me. wouldn't be surprised if that's why," he says, taking your hand and bringing it to a spot in the cats fur. when he guides his hand back and forth, it rests on top of yours.

"we should could call him riot," you mused, tilting your head.

"i talk about stopping your violence, and you make it our cats’ name?" he groaned, stopping his hand.

"if anything, you're to blame,” pausing to take a quick glance at him, “always out fighting," you whisper.

"what was that?" he asked as he drew closer to you.

"oh, look at the time!" you exclaim, your gaze racing to your phony watch. "i totally forgot about my homework!" your hands slapped on your thigh.

you shook your head, capturing miguel's offended look. "i'm just— what a forgetful daughter you have." you rise from your seat on the couch, grab your bag, and proceed to your room.

as you near the doorway, you hear his raspy voice state, "i might just take you with him, princessa."

even though you know he won't see you in your doorway, you turn around anyways, "not a cat dad."

“mira, hay pelaje por todas partes” = look, there's fur everywhere

"¿te estás riendo de mí?” = are you laughing at me?

princessa = princess

© 2023, CHISHIYAE

[radio-navlee]

HOLD THE FUCK UP!! DID ANYBODY NOTICE MILES FROM EARTH 42 HAD HETEROCHROMIA?!?

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

EVERYBODY WAKE TF UP NOOOOOOOW

@moralesmilesanhour

[moralesmilesanhour]

How did I not notice that 💀 that's so cool!!

[chishiyae]

lotsss of requests being posted soon guys, trust 😵‍💫

[autumn-hiraeth]

A scene with Hobie where he's about to leave for a mission but you pulled him back by his belt to give him a "good luck kiss" and he just started to kissing you all over face and everyone who are supposed to go with him on the mission needed to physically pull him away from you because he didn't wanted to let go (+ bonus when after the mission he comes back to HQ, you're talking with someone and he basically crushed you into a hug not minding the person next to you)

hi, anon! 🫡 I hope you like it!

Hobie brown x reader

Just fluff.

a/n: Hobie kissing you face? Yes, please.

You can find more here “ Hobie's masterlist”

“Hobie, my mate, we need you for a mission” Pav murmurs to your lover, who has you sitting on his lap, you hear him snort and bite your lip when he says; "Nah, I'm having a good time with my girl" His calloused hands wrap around your belly making you feel safe in his arms but you know your lover has to go on that mission or Miguel will be so upset so.

“You have to go sweetheart” Hobie is not going to admit that when you use pet names his heart melts so instead he decides to say: “will ya give me a reward if I go luv? ”

" what do you want?" Hobie holds your jaw so you can look at him.

"A good luck kiss" you roll your eyes before pulling him back by his belt and joining your lips against his; Hobie didn't expect this but he likes it.

No matter how many times they kiss each other, they can't get enough though, but you two are not home for a heaten making out so when Hobie slides his tongue into your mouth you push him away, but he keeps kissing you, peppering kisses all over your face that are giving you making you giggle, your hands cling to his belt and the moment feels so perfect.

“Hobie! We have to go" that's Gwen

"Gimme a second!" Hobie says placing a kiss on your cheek before he is pushed away by Peter "you can kiss her all you want after the mission, loverboy "

“ I'll be back luv!” Hobie promises, his lips covered in your lipstick.

+Bonus

Hobie has been gone for an hour, however, as soon as he left you already missed him so you decided to talk to Margo while you waited for him.

What you didn't expect was Hobie crashing into you as soon as he found you, his long arms wrapping you and you can feel his heart beating wildly.

“Miss ya luv” Hobie murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your neck, you smile as he kisses your cheeks, leaving your lips at the end and you can hear Margo says “Get yourselves a room.”

[chishiyae]

— MISSION IMPOSSIBLE ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] hobie brown.

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊hobie was bored, and you needed to get back to HQ for a mission. but he's also been wanting his brows slit, so what better way to keep you at home than to have you do it for him?

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. gn!reader. hobie mildly frustrating the reader. established relationship. suggestive themes. reader is a spider themselves & is apart of spider society.

a/n. — idk how i feel abt this but here i go posting it … using @/jasminesfury dialogue prompt

almost everyone has an addiction, and hobie's (shameless) addiction was kissing you. he’ll seize any opportunity to catch your lips, no matter where you are or who’s nearby. truthfully? that's fine. you tend to give in to that craving, but not when you're trying to shave a clean slice through his brow.

"sometimes the urge to punch you is just — unbelievably strong," you sigh, setting your clippers on the bathroom counter.

"other times?" hobie spoke up, sitting too calmly on the toilet seat for your liking.

you simply glared. “less strong, but still there.”

when he offered the idea, you agreed only on the condition that it be quick enough for you to return to HQ in time for your next mission.

you could’ve finished all three of the brow slits he wanted by now. but, hobie kept disturbing your job by either not staying still or getting way too close to you. both were issues that lasted much too long — it's as if he doesn't want them at all.

hobie tugs on your belt loops, dragging you between his legs and, more crucially, closer to him. you push away, only for his arms to lock around you. making the idea of escaping practically impossible.

you sigh once more, your arms defeatedly limp on his chest. a brief moment of silence passes, with just the gazes you sent each other and tickling sensations of your boyfriend's fingers to remind you that you're not alone.

they also remind you that, as much as you wanted to stay in his hold, you had a mission to get to. one that couldn't easily be denied last minute.

"all you have to do is sit there and look pretty," you reach over to get the clippers. "it shouldn't be that hard.”

when he mumbles his reply, you're moving into a straddle position. both the shifting and the sound of the clippers muffled his words.

“huh?”

"d’ya even know how to do it? i mean, don’t you brush the brows before y’start shavin’?”

you raise your brow, the clippers in hand. “we’re supposed to be quick—”

“c’mon love, i want the full experience,” he argues, his calloused hands resting on your thighs.

your mouth opened to speak, but the sound of your watch cut you off. hobie's head tilts, his eyes scan you with interest, and you cast a short glance between him and the watch before answering the call.

for a millisecond, miguel's voice cuts in, "whe-" before your watch slid off your wrist. the slim hand that takes it away gets your attention.

“hey!” you grab for it, but he blindly throws it instead.

that shit’s gotta be broke.

you lowered your leg from his body, only to have him pull it back up. if looks could kill, your judgmental look on him would.

“‘m not worried, y’know i can make a new one,” he winks.

and he is capable. you and he are both aware of this. but that's beside the point. the gist is that you're trying to get to work, and he's preventing you from doing so. there's no getting around it. and he won't let you go until he has his new look. atleast, even if he doesn't, you'll have a better chance.

"after this? i'm never staying with you before a mission again," you mutter as you inch yourself closer to him.

you approached his right brow gradually and shaved an opening near the end of it. you cleaned it up with a razor, using a tissue to remove excess hair.

you concentrate on the hair you're working with, but your attention is drawn to the smirk on his lips. “what are you smirking at?"

“nothin’, just,” he shrugged, “got a new song idea.” at the mention of his music, he starts tapping one of his beats on your thigh. it's distracting, yet you let him do it anyway. the patterns alternate before the taps halt and a massage begins.

it's not consistent, but that's not surprising. the word even being one of his pet peeves. the way his thumbs circle the inner of your thigh was surprising — if not shocking, given how you flinched. each time they rose up, they seemed to move closer to your center.

“hobie,” you pull back, “cut it out.”

you can tell the confused look of his face is forced.

"or i’m gonna give you more than just a slit," you assert, pointing to his face.

shivers accompany his fingertips as they trace up and down your arm. "don't y'want me to look good when i'm on stage?"

"as if you need eyebrows to sing.”

"i said look good," he noted, lightly squeezing your arm.

“that either.” you roll your eyes.

the following moments are slow. everything seems slow, starting with you shifting closer to find a proper shaving position. he grunts, and you know it's because you're moving too swiftly on top of him, so you apologize.

he replies by kissing your cheek. it's comforting that even when he draws back, he stays close. dangerously close, even. it was a shame you felt his breathing. the twitching of your lips locking his gaze.

his eyelids begin to droop, as do his wandering eyes. you're trying hard not to look at him, but it seems as though your body has more control than your head. it keeps drawing into him, allowing him to press you firmly against him. allowing him to caress the side of your face and you to land your lips against his. those that don’t take action to reciprocate your movements. they do, however, smile. he fucking smiles and returns to his previous posture, "so we gonna finish my look or wha'?"

© 2023, CHISHIYAE

[chishiyae]

There’s a lame person blowing up the miles x reader tag and it’s causing ppl to get no engagement on their fics. If you’re confused why you aren’t getting the notes or de logs your getting, THATS WHY

ohh … tbh i figured that was why, and i really hope other miles writers get more recognition soon. thanks for telling me about it !!

[chishiyae]

Hey! If you’re taking requests, may I request e42 miles morales x reader dating headcanons where the reader is a witch? Maybe one that uses dark magic but is such a nice soul and bubbly?

— UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] e42! miles morales.

𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 ┊e42! miles morales has a s/o with witchcraft skills. dark magic, in particular. their personality, on the other hand, is the polar opposite; bubbly and sweet.

a/n. — ahh i know i got the witch part down, but idk about to bubbly s/o part .. apologies for not getting this done sooner <3.

E42!MILES already has his own secrets. and by secrets, i mean the fact that he’s the prowler. it's kept hidden from you so you don't get engaged in something that could harm you. though, when you told him about your own secret (one similar to his), he felt more at ease about telling you his. that's exactly what happened a week or two later. he figured that having your own "superpower" meant that if anything awful happened to you (because of him being the prowler), you'd be able to manage it better than if you didn't.

he also figured that because you possessed these powers, you’d willingly apply them to his suit… i'm talking about full-on magical armor. he'd suggest it after buying you something, too. saying it’d act as a "thank you gift."

you pointed out that your procedures sometimes had effects and that it'd be better if his suit stayed the way it was because (truthfully) there was nothing wrong with it, but he said he trusted you.

if you didn't cave then, you probably would’ve after a month of complaints and nagging. he can be very persistent.

once you gave his suit the advances he wanted, he’d start flashing them to you as if you hadn't done them yourself. for instance, “baby, you see that? that gives me a better grasp on things,” while giving a demonstration. and you're just smiling while letting him have his moment because he'd respond with sarcasm if you interfered.

despite his use of your powers, he makes an effort to offer you as much attention as he can. i mean, miles believes your personality is far more interesting than your abilities. you're as much a contrast to him as you are to your skills; lively, friendly, and loving. from that list, he’s only one thing: loving. and only to you and his mother. but he feels that's what drew him in — the fact that you had the things that he needed more of. he wasn't used to affection, so he warned that you take it slowly throughout the talking stage (this included not holding hands). slowly, he grew accustomed to romantic affection and began to initiate it himself before asking you out.

from there, it was pretty much the trope of you talking and him listening (don’t worry, his rambles happen too). you’re the golden retriever and black cat duo. the cheerful and reserved couple. if you're not sure what any of this means, here's an example: you'd probably say something like "sorry ‘m being so loud right now." and he'd cut you off with "nah, you’re good. i'm not bothered." he loves to see your naturalness, so he encourages you to keep doing exactly what you apologized for.

you're ready to explore new areas of your terrible excuse for a city, and he'll be your bodyguard. saying that he'd be by your side no matter what powers you had since backup is needed no matter what. furthermore, he'd feel compelled to beat the absolute shit out of anyone who made you feel uncomfortable or nervous on the streets.

people would have a lot to say about your relationship at school, especially because he gives off bad boy vibes and like i’ve mentioned, you’re the complete opposite. so, he feels the need to make a statement about you as well. let people know you're not only taken, but also his, by keeping an arm around you at all times. warn people not to disrespect you because he doesn’t play that.

if you were to use the abilities you have to be a vigilante alongside him, he'd be against it since "you don't even know how to interrogate properly." so you'd have to practice with him to show him you can.

lastly, he takes every effort to console you when you’re experiencing problems or a sad incident with your magic. your magic has surprise complications at times, reminding you of why you're hesitant to use it. lowering your mood. when you confide in miles, he won't ask you any questions until you're ready to talk about it. it was enough for him to be your shoulder to cry on until then.

© 2023, CHISHIYAE

[chishiyae]

i find it actually insane how i can write so many fics for this blog but not for my anime one

[chishiyae]

— HATE CONSISTENCY, BUT LOVE IT WITH YOU ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] hobie brown.

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ makeout sessions are lovely, but you'd prefer them to not have you pleading.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.7k words. implied fem!reader. there’s literally (little to) no plot whatsoever… just kissing and banter. established relationship. suggestive.

a/n. — there i was, on a road trip, listening to music when i thought about writing a quick little fic … so i opened up tumblr and found @/jasminesfury’s dialogue prompt. and oh, was i inspired

hobies thumbs circle the inner of your thighs before retracting and lowering his hands. the shorts you were wearing provided him with easy access, and he'd be damned if he didn't take use of it.

one of your hands was wrapped over his neck, supporting you in your straddling position. the other was found lying in between you and hobie, which was needless given how close you two were, but it's not like you're thinking right now. too engrossed in the sensations. the rhythmic motions of your lips lapping over each other. his hands stroking your thighs. the scrape of his jeans against your flesh (which you hardly felt now). all of it just had you — gone.

he pulls away from your kiss, a tiny rope of saliva tying your lips together. his gaze travels from the saliva to your eyes, taking in how distant you are from the world — from everything other than him. he couldn't stop smirking.

“look at my pretty girl.”

hobie dropped his head, brushing against your neck before giving pecks to the surface. you simply turn your neck to provide him better access. a calloused hand reaches for yours, and you almost miss it because of the warmth in your chest, or was it coming from somewhere else?

you're about to cease his kisses and bend in to catch his lips when you feel a harsher pressure on your neck. one that you can only consider as sucking. you gasp at the feeling; it being a wet yet ticklish heat.

his hand squeezed yours, and you reciprocated.

as he went on, the tingling gradually gave way to burning. and it takes everything you have to not let a noise escape your lips. to not let one out as hobie took his time sucking down on the sensitive skin, using his teeth, and then kissing the area as if to relieve the discomfort.

you let go of his squirming hand with reluctance. his fingertips slid up your arms so delicately that they were almost imperceptible. with each breath you take, he travels further. waist then hips. when he reaches the band of your shorts, he leans back and takes a good look at you. a discolored portion of skin stood out to him, the smirk on his lips becoming inevitable.

was he always this smug?

his tongue took only a second to sweep across his lips, but the way his teeth bit down on it made you want more. want him to take his lips into yours again. want the pool of neediness to subside. most importantly? you want him to stop fucking teasing.

your whiny expression says it all. hobie was skilled at reading people, but he didn't have to try just now, which he found very amusing.

"oh, shut up," you whined, giving him a push.

he only holds up his hands, “i ain’t even say anythin’!”

“you were going to.”

he pulls you in by your belt loops, sending you to fall over his chest. he looks down at you and mumbles, "wasnt."

liar.

you raise yourself higher and get closer to his face, hovering above him. your arms extended over his head and rest on the bedframe for support. it's quiet for a moment, with only the whistling wind to keep conversation going before you speak. “i hate you.”

he twists your belt loops and lightly yanks you back to your original position on his chest. when he stares down at you with that same expression, it's like deja vu, "oh yea’? should i stop?"

“i’ll push you off this bed.”

when you're staring up at someone, it's harder to be threatening. from the raise of hobie’s brow, you make a mental note of that.

"jus’ keep going," you continue, patting his chest as you prepare to sit up, when he gives you a knowing look.

your face falls. you already know what he expects. it was the only type of consistency he genuinely enjoyed, which you used to tease him about. getting a good laugh while he rolled his eyes, but nothing was funny once he brought up how you dreaded it, longed to just get your hands on what you desired. that's why the joke stopped.

“please?” you sigh, your voice quieter and less demanding than before.

a third smirk tugs at his lips today, to which you roll your eyes.

“see? was that so hard?”

© 2023, CHISHIYAE

[sunsetcurveauto]

love when a man is a prettyboy and a loser. a prettyloserboy if you will

[creativepromptsforwriting]

What I hate about writing is when I have to write so much before I finally get to the part I actually wanted to write.