I mean I always assumed he was an adult in your fic....đ¶ obviously when writing mature content most authors intend for the characters to be portrayed as adults it's just common sense. Maybe it just didn't click for that anon
Aging up characters is a normal and common narrative tool in fanfic and there's nothing wrong with that because; one its fanfic, two these characters aren't real. If it makes people uncomfortable, that's why blocking exists.
Anyways I love your blog, I hope you don't receive any hate or get attacked, dont let the haters get to you!
Hi anon, thanks for the reassurance, I thought I was trippin' for a moment.
I will make sure to include that information in future posts, so there will be no misunderstandings whatsoever. Although I have to say, I have been on tumblr for over a decade, and I have also witnessed plently of writers get hate for aging up characters and/or dealing with morbid content, so there's no way to make everyone happy. I feel like the vast majority of published literary texts, including works of the literary canon, would be deemed problematic by some people on here - simply for depicting issues and themes they are not comfortable with. That's how it's always been.
truly fascinating how i never even mentioned a specific age in any of my fics but some of y'all be pissing your pants already. given the context i assumed it was obvious, but since this is tumblr, everything needs to be spelled out. if there is smut involved, they're either in college or their final year of hs, i.e. 18+
i hope y'alls so-called activism goes beyond sending randos on tumblr accusatory anonymous messages. do you go to your local library and book shop and complain to the workers about the taboo romance/erotica/YA novels? what about classic literature? are vladimir nabokov's books okay or should they be banned and censored? do you angrily message the producers and authors of popular media like euphoria, riverdale, pretty little liars etc. for depicting extremely explicit scenes involving 16 yr olds? or do you just like to pretend to have the moral high ground?
UuGH IVE BEEN HYPERFIXATING ON MILES MORALES LATELY S O
ITS SMUT B U T
Miles with a reader who wears his clothes often, wearing his shirt with nothing but panties underneath- sitting on his lap and messing with his fingers. And Miles just so desperately struggling to keep a conversation going when he can so clearly feel their warm against him
Hi anon, thanks for the prompt!
I used our OG Miles for this. Also: Itâs their first time together, so heâs extra shy and awkward.
Warnings: Explicit content, yâall know the drill Â
---
Miles had left a while ago to complete his evening patrol, and you were eagerly awaiting his return. You had started dating recently, and you were head over heels in love with him.
Having just stepped out of the bathroom, you felt refreshed and rejuvenated. The hot shower had relaxed your muscles and lightened your mood.
"Hey! I'm back -" a voice rang out, followed by a crash and a thump. You looked up to see Miles in his Spider-Man suit; he had tripped and fallen through the window.
"For a superhero, you're quite clumsy," you remarked.
He removed his mask, and you noticed his cheeks reddening. It wasnât from exertion. "You're wearing my hoodie."
"Astute observation," you replied, sitting down on the bed. The oversized hoodie you were wearing reached your thighs. You loved wearing his clothes, even though they were too big for you.
You could feel him staring at your legs.
"You're not as discreet as you think," you said with a grin, and he jumped.
"What?"
"My eyes are up here, Miles."Â
He looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Sorry," he muttered. Then he scrambled to the bed and dropped his head onto your lap. Parts of his suit were ripped.
"Did you get hurt?" you asked, your voice filled with concern as you ran your hands over the damaged areas to inspect them.
"Nah. I'm fine."
You cupped his face in your hands and gently pressed your lips against his. "Missed you," you whispered, "How was patrol?"
"Nothing special. Caught a pickpocket and stopped a robbery. The usual." He shrugged. "And how was your evening?"
Your hand roamed over his chest. "Iâve been thinking about you."
He shivered, despite the fact that you weren't even touching him directly due to the fabric of his clothing. He was always so sensitive to your every touch, which is why you loved running your hands over his body.
"I think about you all the time, too,â he said.
"Oh?â You smiled. âThinking about what, exactly?"
He blushed. "You know - how you're doing, what you're up to... if there's something you need..."
"Mhm. What else?"Â
He swallowed. "Um..." It was obvious he was thinking of something he didn't want to vocalize. âThatâs it, I think.â
He must have been too embarrassed to say. It was fun to make him a red-faced blushing mess, so you deliberately turned away from him to lie down on the bed. Â
As expected, he crawled next to you and rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.
"That's really all you think about?" you asked casually, intertwining your hands.
You could feel his body tense slightly. "Yup."
A boy his age, without ulterior motives? That wasn't very likely. "Tell me more about your day then.â You wanted to get him out of his shell.
You climbed on top of him so that you were practically straddling his lap. He looked up at you, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted, uncertain and tentative. "Um..." He searched for the right words. You leaned over him, and his gaze shyly wandered sideways. "What was the question again?"
You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "What else did you do today besides capture a pickpocket, stop a robbery, and think of me?"
âI⊠Um⊠Physics. â
You couldnât help but laugh. âPhysics?â
âYeah, uh. Homework.â He frowned, looking like he was struggling to think straight. âElectric current, resistivity, and Ohmâs law.â
âSounds exciting. Tell me more.â You subtly tried to press your body against his. Since you were only wearing a pair of underpants and his hoodie, and since his suit was relatively thin, you hoped to mess him up enough that any rational thought would leave him.
You gave him another kiss on the cheek, and your lips moved to his neck.
"Um. Ohm's law states that the voltage across a resistor is directly proportional to..." His voice trembled, "to... to the current flowing through resistance..." He fell silent. You had taken his hands and placed them on your waist; you knew he would have been too shy to do it himself.
âYeah? Is that all you know?â you teased with a grin.
Instead of continuing to talk, he stared at your lips.
"Miles?"
"Hah?"
"I asked you a question."
He blinked. "What question?"
Almost there, you thought.
âWhen do you use Ohm's law?"Â Â
âYou⊠uh.â He looked like his head was empty. His eyes were glassy, his pupils dilated. âY-You use it to⊠to maintain the desired voltage drop across⊠across the electrical components in aâŠâ The rest of the sentence was lost in a moan because you had started sucking on his neck.
You could feel the warmth that emanated from him. He had to force himself to hold back, you could tell by the desperate look on his face and the way he whimpered under your touch. Â
"Take off your suit." He obeyed instantly. His slender torso revealed faint traces of muscles, a testament to the numerous fights he had participated in during the past few months.
Then he looked at you, his gaze lust-veiled, patiently waiting.
It dawned on you that he was waiting for permission, for instructions.Â
Even now, in a state of lust and desire, he showed restraint and caution, as if afraid to do something you didn't want.
"What do you want, Miles?"
The question seemed to catch him off guard. "What do you mean?"
"What do you want to do?â
He looked at you questioningly. "Um... Whatever it is you want to do?â
You shook your head. "No." He finally had to learn to express his needs. "I want you to tell me what you want, regardless of what I think."
He hesitated for a moment, then said, "You. I want you."
"And how do you want me?"
Instead of answering, he suddenly grabbed you so fiercely that you landed on your back and he ended up on top of you. His hands wandered under your hoodie, and when you tried to take it off, he said, "No, leave it on. It suits you.â With one hand he squeezed your breast, with the other he grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the mattress.
Fucking finally, you thought. Heâs finally doing what heâs been wanting to do for ages.
He was breathing heavily, and you could feel his growing hardness. Would he still be this reserved and self-controlled once you took things further?
"Have you ever imagined it?" you asked between his kisses.
"Fucking you?" He dropped his forehead against yours. "Yes, damn it. Itâs the only thing I can think about when I touch myself. I almost lose my mind every time you wear my clothes."
Holy shit. You had never heard him talk so freely, so bluntly before. His excitement and arousal seemed to cloud his thoughts, because you knew he would never confess to these things in a sober state.
"Then why don't you?"
Your words made him groan softly. "You sure?"
"Miles." You tried to sound reproachful. "Do you have any idea how turned on I am right now?â Â You took his hand and guided it downwards.
"Oh, wow." He sounded so genuinely surprised that you had to stifle a laugh. "You're wet."
"Duh."
âThatâs ââ He blinked. âWow. I had no idea.â
âAre you going to do something about it or what?â
He carefully fumbled his way forward with one finger, gently, trying not to hurt you. "Is that okay?"
"Miles." Your voice sounded almost like a whine. "More. Please."
He inserted a second finger, and began to move them slowly. But he was still so measured, so tentative, that it was driving you out of your mind.
So you took his hand and started rubbing your clit while simultaneously fucking yourself with his fingers. He watched you with his mouth open, full of awe and lechery.
âThatâs how you do it,â you sighed, willing yourself to stop right before your climax because there was something else you wanted to do.
You fumbled around in your nightstand to pull out a condom. Before Miles could react with embarrassment, you ripped open the pack with your teeth and put it on in a quick and guided motion.
"Wha -" He gasped, startled. "You have condoms?"
"Of course. I've been waiting ages for this to happen."
"You serious?" He sounded stunned. "I had no idea!"
âBecause youâre a dense idiot.â
He pouted. "Don't call me that."
"Make me.â
He didn't need to be told twice. The kiss that followed was hungry, desperate, lust-filled. He had wanted this for as long as you had.
You couldn't hold back a moan as he entered you.
âYou okay?"
"Yes. But I'd feel better if you were a little rougher."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You're not hurting me," you assured. "Come on, Miles, please. I'll go crazy if you don't."
He began to move faster; his hands found yours and he intertwined them.
"I love you," he said softly, "more than anything in this world." He gasped your name, followed by caresses, kisses, and a look so fond that your heart melted.
You both came at the same time.
His body fell to the side, exhausted.
"That was way better than I had imagined,â he mumbled with half-closed eyes.
"You should really learn to express your needs," you said.
"I don't want to pressure you into anything, though."
You gave him a kiss. "Communicating your needs to someone doesn't mean you're pushing the person to do something they donât want to.â
He thought about it for a moment. "Okay," he said. "I love you."
Hihi, ik this is corny lol but could you do a fake dating scenario with 1610!miles where he uses the relationship to cover up his identity as spiderman and why heâs always gone ?
I LOVE THE FAKE DATING TROPE SO MUCH!
Thank you for the prompt! I added some childhood friends to lovers to this :) Hope you like it!
---
Miles and you had been inseparable friends since childhood. Growing up, your families had lived in adjacent apartments, but circumstances forced your family to move to a more affordable neighborhood when you turned eight. Despite attending different schools, you remained friends throughout the years.
As fate would have it, you had come to suspect that Miles was none other than Spider-Man through your occasional encounters with the web-slinging hero. His unmistakable voice, his quirky sense of humor, and that distinctive laugh had given his true identity away.
Milesâ double life as a superhero kept him perpetually occupied. It had been a while since you had last hung out, but you were understanding of the situation. Keeping New York safe was not an easy task.
Each time you witnessed him soaring through the towering skyscrapers of the city, a smile appeared on your face. He was happy, and that was all that mattered to you.
On this particular day, as you were heading home from school, an unexpected event unfolded before your eyes. It was quite a comical sight â a shopping bag laden with groceries in Spider-Manâs hands, as if he were an ordinary citizen carrying out mundane tasks. But just as he exited the store, a car raced down the street at a dangerous speed, closely followed by a convoy of police cars. Â
Without a momentâs hesitation, he dropped the shopping bag and leaped into action, joining the chase. Amused by the relentless chaos that seemed to follow Spider-Man wherever he went, you decided to do what any loyal friend would have done: You picked up his abandoned groceries and embarked on a mission of your own â to deliver them to his parentsâ apartment.
It took you quite some time until you finally arrived at your destination. The sound of a heated argument echoed from the inside of Milesâ apartment. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.
âÂĄNo puedo creer que te hayas olvidado de comprar los comestibles otra vez!â His motherâs voice rang out, filled with frustration. Â
âLo siento,â you heard Milesâ voice reply. âI just â I got distracted, and then forgot about the food entirely!â
âDistracted by what?â His dad sounded equally irritated. âYou had one job!â
Technically, the poor kid has multiple responsibilities, you thought. Thatâs when you decided to step in and save the day. You knocked on the door, determined to help. Â
The conversation abruptly fell silent. Miles opened the door, his expression a mix of surprise and bewilderment when he saw you.
"You left your groceries at my house," you said, attempting to convey with your gaze: Hey, I know you're Spider-Man, and I saw you drop your shit just to chase after a criminal. Step up your game. Â
His father appeared in the doorway. When he recognized you, he smiled. "Oh, it's you. Miles, why didn't you tell me you were visiting a friend?"
You could see the gears turning in Miles' head. Then, to your own astonishment, he responded, "Girlfriend. Not friend."
A sudden crash of dishes on the floor interrupted the scene. Miles' mother stormed towards the door. "What did I just hear?"
You raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him. What the hell, Morales?
Thankfully, you and Miles had always possessed the unique ability to communicate without words.
His look pleaded: Play along. Please.
Who were you to let down a friend in need? If he needed the excuse of a girlfriend, then of course you would provide your assistance.
His father's jaw had dropped. He stared at you as if he were seeing you for the first time in his life.
"Yep!â you said cheerfully. âGirlfriend. We've been dating for..." You looked at him, seeking his support on the matter.
"For a while!" he rushed to say.
Not helpful, you thought.
"What do you mean 'a while'?" his mother inquired suspiciously.
"Nine months,â he said.
"NINE MONTHS?" Her shrill voice pierced through the room, making you cringe. "You've been dating a girl for nine months, and you're only telling us now? Come on in, dear, don't just stand there in the doorway!" She grabbed you by the shoulder and, before you could protest, you were dragged into the living room.
Oh, boy. This was going to be a disaster.
"That explains a lot," his father muttered, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself and thinking out loud. He patted Miles on the back. "You could have talked to me about it, kid. Although... I guess you're not a kid anymore, huh?" His tone turned sentimental and fatherly, and you couldnât help but feel embarrassed by the entire situation. You had to suppress the urge to grimace.
"Miles, don't just stand there like that, take your girlfriend's bag! She came all the way here because you're forgetful." His mother gave you a tense, yet warm smile. She probably would have reacted worse if Miles had introduced them to a complete stranger.
Miles, who suddenly seemed to remember that he had a role to play, hurriedly took the bag from you, putting it on the kitchen counter. When he returned, you could see him hesitate for a moment before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.
Tame.
Well. You were in front of his parents, so displaying restraint seemed appropriate.
But if you were already doing him a favor, you wanted to have your fun with it.
With a mischievous grin, you took his hand in yours, and he looked at you with wide, somewhat panicked eyes.
"I don't understand why you didnât tell us sooner,â his father said.
"Because you guys embarrass me," Miles murmured shyly.
"Embarrassing? Us?" His mother gave him a disapproving glare. Then, turning to you, she said, "Don't break his heart, yeah?â Â
"Mom!" He whined, blushing.
His genuine reactions were delightfully innocent, and you couldnât resist taking it a step further.
You threw both your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a quick kiss. He was taller than you, and his hands instinctively wrapped around your waist. Caught off guard, his eyes widened as your lips met his.
His father cleared his throat, and his mother made a choked sound.
Grinning, you released him from the embrace. Â
"I'm afraid I still have a lot of homework to do. I'll see you tomorrow, Miles. You guys have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Morales!"
You left the apartment.
Miles ran after you and caught up with you on the street.
"You â what was that just now?" he exclaimed.
"I should be the one asking questions. Since when did I become your girlfriend?"
"I had to use that excuse!" He sounded contrite. "Sorry, it's just... They've been on my case for ages because I'm always busy and away from home."
"Don't worry about it." You gave him an encouraging smile. "I don't mind playing your girlfriend. Was that your first kiss just now?"
He flinched, embarrassment written all over his face. "No, I've kissed hundreds of girls. What are you talking about?"
"You're a pretty bad liar, Miles."
He puffed out his cheeks. "Fine. Yeah, it was my first kiss. Satisfied?"
"No, not yet. But it seems we'll have plenty of opportunities to practice kissing in the future."
Before he could say anything in response, you had already walked on, leaving an extremely perplexed and embarrassed Miles behind.
Well, you thought, this whole ordeal might actually be a nice distraction from my boring life.
1610! Miles comforting reader after she get jealous because of how much heâs been around Gwen and heâs just touching and kissing her in all the right places and makes sure that reader knows that he loves her and only her đđ
Thank you for the great prompt! I had lots of fun writing this. :p <3
---
It was truly infuriating.
You hadnât seen each other in a week due to school work keeping you busy, and there had been a surge of criminal activities in New York, which is why Miles had been occupied most of the time as well.
And now, when the two of you were finally able to hang out again, he kept talking about someone else entirely.
You were lying on the bunk bed in his dorm room, listening to him ramble on about the adventures he had lived through last week. Â
âYou should have been there, the way Gwen incapacitated the guy was like something out of a movie.â He gesticulated frantically with his hands as he vividly described last nightâs care chase.
"That sounds really fascinating," you grumbled.
After hearing your unfazed (and slightly sarcastic) tone, he looked up from his chair. "You don't sound very impressed, though."
How could you have told him that his constant stories and songs of praise about Gwen were starting to annoy the heck out of you?
Jealousy was an ugly emotion. To confess to it was shameful, exposing; you wanted to be the easy-going, cool and confident kind of girlfriend, but Miles was making it really hard for you to not seethe with anger and discontent.
"Everything okay?" he asked, and you avoided his gaze. Lying was easier when you didnât look him into his eyes. They always were too honest and seemed to notice too much.
"Sure," you said.
He saw through your charade immediately, and climbed onto the bunk bed to be closer to you. Â "There's something bothering you. I can tell."
"You can't tell shit," you said before you could stop yourself. There was anger in the pits of your stomach threatening to take over.
"Did I say something wrong?"
Yes.
"No."
"Then why are you frowning like that? It looks like youâre ready to kill someone. It better not be me."
Fuck. Were you really scowling that obviously?
"You and Gwen get along great, huh?â
"We certainly do." He tilted his head. You recognized that look on his face â it was the same one he had when struggling to solve complicated math problems. "Whyâd you bring her up?"
"Why do you keep bringing her up?" you snarled. "We werenât able to have a single conversation in the last few weeks without you mentioning her a dozen times. Not to mention the fact that you spend way more time with her than you do with your actual girlfriend.â
Shoot. Now you had done it; you had shown weakness.
Miles stared at you incredulously. "Wait a minute - are you jealous?"
You crossed your arms and looked pointedly at the ceiling.
"Absolutely not."
"Nuh-huh. That's why you're pouting." He grinned, and his lighthearted reaction only intensified the nauseating feeling of jealousy. "You know, part of me wishes you could come with us when we're patrolling, just so you could witness how much I talk about you when I'm with Gwen. But the other part of me is terrified of you being with us, as it would be incredibly dangerous for a civilian.â
"Yeah." Biting sarcasm. "I'm sure that's what you talk to her about."
"It is!" He scrambled over to you and leaned in close. "You don't have the faintest idea how important you are to me, do you?
"Canât be that important, judging by your behavior.â
"Not that important!" he repeated indignantly. "I think about you all the time. How you're doing, what you're doing, if you need anything - always. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing when I go to sleep!"
"Well, you sure as hell donât act like it,â you mumbled.
âWhat do I have to do to make you believe me?â He brushed an unruly strand of hair from your forehead, and the gentleness of his touch loosened the knot in your stomach the jealousy had caused. You had only recently started dating, so every little touch of his felt all the more exciting. Â
You looked at him, and his wide eyes were filled with worry.
âDo you guys have to hang out so much?â you asked reluctantly. âHow would you feel if I suddenly spent all of my time with an attractive guy who was single?â
He furrowed his brows. âWell, I wouldnât be thrilled,â he began slowly. Then he shook his head. âOkay, scratch that, Iâd be really pissed.â
You almost laughed. He was just like you.
âThen you know exactly how I feel.â
He kissed the corner of your mouth. "You really have no idea, do you?"
The almost-kiss had distracted you, and it took a moment for you to reply. âNo idea about what?â you asked, a little breathless.
"About the things I'd do to make you happy." With a tender gesture, he took your face in his hand and caressed your cheek. "I love you more than anything in this world." The kiss that followed made any doubt you had disappear in an instant. He was telling the truth, that much was evident. âNext time, you can just straight up tell me whatâs bothering you. Although I have to say, I kind of like it when youâre acting all jealous and cute.â
âFuck off,â you said, but it was with a smile. You playfully tried to push him off of you, but he buried his face in your neck.
He was stronger than you, and his weight was pressing against you in a way that made it impossible for you to escape. Not that you wanted to - not when his lips had found your neck and left a sensation so new and good that you couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment.
âI love you,â he said, His voice was so full of affection that it warmed your heart. âOnly you. Always you. I wonât be patrolling with her as much in the future, I promise.â
At times, you wondered how someone as great as him had ended up with someone like you. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmered with an amber-like hue; the smile that graced his face was a breathtaking image.
He appeared radiant in the sunlight, and in his presence, you felt a profound sense of peace and trust overcome you.
Can I request Earth 42 miles x reader. Reader goes to a nightclub with some friends even after Miles told her not to. She gets shit faced and one of miles friends spot her and tell hims and you take it from there. Please sprinkle some possessive maybe a đ€đœ toxic Miles in there, thank you â€ïž
Thank you for the prompt! Writing this was so much fun!! I aged the character up since alcohol and clubbing was involved. Enjoy :P
Warnings include: possessiveness, jealousy, toxic behavior, dubcon because reader is under the influence of alcohol... I think that's it
---
You had made it!
You had passed all of your exams and survived this hell of a semester. Your friends from college decided to celebrate your collective accomplishments by going out for the night to one of the clubs downtown. Â
There was just one problem, and that problem happened to be your boyfriend. You knew he wouldn't be thrilled about your plans.
But you were an honest person, and you didn't want any secrets between the two of you. So, you tried to mention it casually. You werenât planning on asking for permission, though; you refused to.
He reacted as expected. Â
"No," he said in a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.
"But -"
"No," he repeated firmly, and you fell silent. "Youâre not going anywhere. Understood? Donât even try to argue with me.â Â
That was the end of the discussion. (If you could even call your exchange of phrases a âdiscussionâ.)
The thing was: You were someone who refused to let your boyfriend dictate the way you lived your life. You were old enough to make your own decisions, and if you wanted to spend an evening with some alcohol, music, and friends, that was your God-given right. He had no say in the matter whatsoever.
The club your friends had chosen was disreputable; the smell of weed, perfume, alcohol, sweat and cigarettes was in the air. It was loud enough that you couldn't have a conversation without yelling.
After the second Long Island Ice Tea (the mix of gin, vodka, tequila, rum, and triple sec was wicked, who had even come up with this?), you were already tipsy.
One guy from your friend group ordered you drink after drink. A Negroni, a Sazerac, a Caribou Lou.
"What grade did you get on your final report?" he asked, and you were drunk enough that it took you a moment to understand him.
"A B-minus," you said with a grin. A B-minus in this class was practically an A-plus. Your professor was a choleric, stern old man with impossible demands. More than 70% of the class had failed.
You weren't stupid. You knew your fellow student had his eye on you, even though he knew you were in a relationship. As long as he kept his hands to himself, you saw no reason as to why that should have been an issue.
The evening took its course, and as you went to the bar to order another cocktail, you felt someone's gaze rest on you.
You glanced around, squinting your eyes (your surroundings were a bit blurry, and this place was dimly lit), but couldn't spot anyone suspicious.
(What you were unaware of, however, was a certain someone sitting not far from you. Someone who had noticed you and had been watching you talk to the boy from your friend group. That someone was one of Miles' friends, and he had taken a snap of you and sent it to your boyfriend, the caption being: u lettin ur girl go to a club n flirt w other guys?? shame on u)
The club was packed, and the dance floor was a chaotic mess of people who, as the night progressed and alcohol flowed, abandoned all sense of decorum and engaged in explicit behavior right there on the dance floor.
Well.
New York nightclubs. That's just the way they were.
As it had gotten quite late, you opted to call an uber and make your way back home. The evening had been enjoyable, filled with plenty of dancing, drinking, and fun moments shared with your friends.
Inhaling the cold night air was a welcome change after you had spent numerous hours in the cramped and stuffy club.
"I'm going to fucking kill you."
After being subjected to the bass and pulsating rhythm of the music for several hours, your ears were left ringing. Your temporary deafness combined with the alcohol in your blood slowed your thinking, and it took you a moment to realize who had grabbed you by the arm and was standing in front of you.
"Miles!" you exclaimed joyfully, wrapping your arms around his neck in a playful embrace. Â
Damn. You were slurring.
"How much did you drink?" he asked, and even through the fog of delirium you could make out the angry tone of his voice. But there was something else you noticed - concern.
"Not much," you said, but the words lost their credibility as you were having difficulties pronouncing them. "I've only had a few cocktails. A few many." You giggled.
Had you been sober, you would have felt the rage and animosity emanating from him. His eyes reflected cold anger, his jaw was clenched, and his hands were fists.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" he snapped at you. "You know what, forget it. Youâre not in the right state to have a normal conversation anyway." With a firm grip on your upper arm, he dragged you to his car that was parked on the side of the road.
"Hey, slow down -" But he had already pushed you into the passengerâs seat.
Everything was spinning. You blinked a few times, realizing too late that Miles had already taken off, speeding through the streets of New York at an alarming rate.
"I called an uber," you mumbled.
"Fuck your uber," he cursed. "Do I need to put a fucking collar on you? I can't believe you'd pull such a stupid stunt."Â
"Whaddaya talkin' 'bout?"
"I'm talking about the fact that you're an insolent little brat," he spat. You had never heard him sound so angry before. His tone sobered you up a little.
He was a hot-tempered person, but his anger was usually not the loud kind; it was rather cold, quiet, and frightening. The fact that he became so coarse and rude now could only mean one thing: He was really pissed.
"Insolent brat? Cuz I was havin' some fun?"
"I'm sure you were having plenty of fun with that guy, mi amor. Just wait till we're home."
Was that a threat?
"You're being overly dramatic. 's not like I broke the law."
"Going against my orders is worse than breaking the law."
"Orders?â You snorted. âI ainât taking orders from no one.â
He didnât reply, and his silence was worse than anything else.
âI get the feeling you're mad at me,â you said.
He laughed, but it sounded disdainful. "Oh, you ain't got no clue just how fucking mad I am at you."
He was oddly composed, but he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that you felt fear rise in the pits of your stomach.
"I'm sorry," you said, but he just scoffed.
"Keep your halfhearted apologies to yourself."
Due to a sudden red light, he abruptly slammed on the brakes, causing you to grasp onto the dashboard for stability. "You're driving like a maniac, asshole."
"All the booze be making you too bold." He gave you a cold sideways glance. "Know your place. And donât call me asshole.â
"I know where my place is." You lifted your chin defiantly. "I wonât let a man decide what I can and canât say.â Â
The car came to a stop. "Get out," he instructed, and to your surprise, you realized that you had already arrived home. He must have really raced through the streets like a lunatic. Â
Once you were in the kitchen, he made you drink a whole glass of water and eat some crackers.
"You smell like weed and alcohol," he complained.
You set down the glass of water. "I just donât get what youâre so upset about. You know I would never cheat on you."
âThatâs not what Iâm worried about. You donât understand what goes on in a manâs mind when he sees you. I mean, look at you.â He almost growled.
You glanced down, but still didnât understand â your outfit was relatively innocuous, at least compared to others.
âDo you have any idea what kind of guys hang out in clubs like that?â
âHow did you even know I was there?â
He pressed his lips together.
You narrowed your eyes, and suddenly everything made sense.
âOne of your friends was there, right?â You shook your head. âI felt someone staring at me the entire time.â
âDoesnât matter. What matters is that you need to learn how to listen.â
He grabbed your chin. "I don't want others staring at you."
"You can't lock me up."
"No. But I can make you pay for your disobedience.â
"Oh yeah? How so?" you asked with feigned innocence. You enjoyed making him mad; you loved it when he showed his jealous side that made you feel wanted and special.
"On your knees."
You couldn't help but grin. "And if I refuse?"
"You can either do it yourself, or I'll make you."
Oh, fucking hell.
It was demeaning in a way, but somehow submitting yourself to him had its appeal, too.
"I guess you'll have to make me."
"You're really insufferable today, you know that?"
He grabbed your hips, lifted you up and carried you into the bedroom.
"Miles, put me down -"
"You're in no position to make demands."
He threw you on the bed and you half-heartedly tried to push him away, but deep down you didn't want him to stop.
What you wanted was for him to fuck you until you forgot your name. You had sobered up a bit by now, and could appreciate the angry gleam in his eyes. He had that hungry look, like a wild animal that had to control itself to not devour you.
He pinned your wrists above your head and kissed you with such fervor that you forgot to breathe for a moment. His grip was rough and way too tight, but it felt good; way too good.
"Who owns you?" His voice was a low whisper against your lips.
"No one," was your answer, because you wanted to agitate him even more.
One of his hands wrapped around your throat. He didn't squeeze, but the threat was there.
"Who owns you?"
"You," you said, "you alone."
He gave a sigh of contentment. "Was that so hard?"
"Can you touch me?"
The rough way he had handled you, the way he had kissed you â you wanted more of that.
He thought for a moment, then said, "No. You were petulant and defiant tonight. This is your punishment." He let go of you, and immediately you felt the loss of his touch.
"You're really mean."
"And you're drunk off your ass. We'll talk again when you're sober."
Then he disappeared, leaving you a frustrated mess.
Asshole.
Youâd make sure to turn him on and leave him dissatisfied next time, just to give him a taste of his own medicine. Â
can you do tired stressed miles (earth42! Or regular 1610! Miles)
Miles had a stressful time at work(fighting or sumn) and reader is just being a hugeee brat so he puts her in her place đ„čđ
Hi! Thanks for the prompt!
I chose Prowler!Miles for this, as I think heâd be more assertive & possessive than our ball of sunshine aka Earth-1610 Miles. :p Enjoy!
---
Dating someone with a double life had certain advantages, without question. But the list of drawbacks was just as long.
Moments like these made you realize how frustrating and difficult dating him could be sometimes.
You had planned on meeting tonight. But while you were waiting outside the movie theater, the following messages appeared on your phone:
won't make it tnight
sry
will make it up 2 u
You stared at the three texts and were irritated to no end. It had been weeks since you had last spent time together, just the two of you, and now you were being stood up by him. Again. Â
When you finally arrived home, you ordered some food, worked on an essay for one of your college classes, and kept looking at the clock hanging on the wall.
Hours passed. You finished the essay, prepared a presentation for your biochem class, and tried to keep yourself awake with the help of coffee and an energy drink.
It was half past two in the morning when the front door opened quietly. He probably thought you were asleep. Well, he was wrong.
"Do you know what the word priority means?" you asked, annoyance clearly evident in your voice.
He didn't flinch when he saw you, nor did he look particularly surprised. Of course he didn't. There wasn't much that could startle Miles Morales; he was far too composed, too stoic, too stern for that.
Wretched fatigue showed on his face; he had dark circles under his eyes. Others would have found his moody demeanor threatening, but you knew that he was not half as evil as he looked.Â
His reply came quick. "And do you know what the word responsibility means?"
You knew that this particular part of his life, and the responsibilities that came with it, took up a lot of his time. But that didn't mean you were happy or okay with it.
 "You stood me up three times in a row," you said, arms crossed in front of your chest. You tried not to pout too much and sound like a petulant child. "You know, Morales, not many people would put up with the shit you pull sometimes."
He raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Yeah, but youâre still here. Do you know why?" He took a few steps toward you.
"Easy one,â you replied. âBecause Iâm too nice and too good for you.â
âDonât be bratty.â
âItâs the truth, though.â You shrugged, seemingly unfazed. âYou know how many options I have? Youâre not the only good-looking guy in New York, Miles.â
You knew immediately that you had said something wrong. His gaze darkened and he clenched his jaw.
You felt a chill run down your spine.
"What I meant by that is -" you started, but he cut you off.
"Shut up. Do you know why youâre still with me, despite the circumstances?â Â
He leaned his forehead against yours and took your face in his hands.
"I asked you a question." His grip tightened.
You tried to swallow the lump in your throat and attempted to shake your head, but you couldn't move; his grip was too strong. "No," you said quietly.
"Because youâre mine," he replied, and his voice was velvety and soft. "Mine alone. You belong to no one else. Got it?"
"Yes."
"Good.â He smiled as he stroked your hair. "I never want to hear you say something like that again.â
"Then stop being so tired and stressed all the time," you muttered, unable to keep the hurt and sadness from your voice.
"You wanna know what would make me feel less stressed and tired?" A smug grin appeared on his face.
You rolled your eyes. "Pretty presumptuous, don't you think?"
"I'd rather call it determined and self-assured."
"The answerâs no. You don't deserve it."
"Really?" He kissed the corner of your mouth. "Didn't you say you missed me?"
"Just because I missed you doesn't mean I'm going to throw my self-respect overboard -" But the firmness of your sentence faltered as his large hands began to caress your body.
"Mine," he whispered against your lips. "And what's mine, obeys."
You loved it when he called you his own, when he put you in your place. A tingling, warm feeling blossomed inside you.
The following day you woke up next to a handwritten note and a box of your favorite chocolate.
girlie i js saw my req (toxic fwb miles) and u ate ts upâŒïžđ» and the ending was literally perfect wym it was dramatic?đ it was so goodđ„°đ„°
reader wants to end the fwb agreement w miles bc sheâs falling in love but heâs not cs heâs got hella other girls as well. miles gaslights reader to stop her from ending the fwb agreement js cs he doesnât want to let her go and reader tries to leave him but he only keeps kissing her lips, cutting her off mid sentence as miles successfully gets reader back into his bedđ„°đ€·đ»ââïž
anon i love you! this was so much fun to write, i hope you like it
slight dubcon warning!
In retrospect, you should have known. Â
The mere fact that you guys had first met each other in a dirty club downtown, with alcohol in your blood and your self-control dwindling. You had made some small talk with him, an exchange of trivial phrases, before he had given you a look that had shattered the foundation of your very being and all your self-restraint.
That first night with him had been incomparable with anything else you had experience up until that point. Breathtaking and intoxicating and better than any drug you could have gotten on the market. Â
You had exchanged numbers, and to your own surprise, he had contacted you two weeks later with a âwanna come over?â
Needless to say, you did.
That's how you two ended up becoming friends with certain benefits.
A friendship that you now had to end because the inevitable had happened: You had developed feelings. Who could have blamed you? Miles was aloof, attractive, desirable, mysterious.
Given the long list of his lovers, he was also someone who knew how to separate love from lust, unlike you.
You were lost in your thoughts when the door opened.
"Fucking finally," you said, trying not to sound too accusatory. You had to keep reminding yourself that you weren't in a real relationship with him, that Milesâ bustling personal life was none of your business, and that he didn't owe you an explanation as to why he was late to your date.
Having feelings for him meant one thing and one thing only: unavoidable pain.
"You wanted to talk?" His voice was monotone and indifferent as always.
There was no need to beat around the bush for too long. "We need to end this.â
Once the words left you, you felt relief wash over you. Saying it hadnât been as difficult as you had expected.
He just raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Why?" Short on words as ever.
You jerked back as he approached you, because you couldn't have stood being physically close to him at this moment. It would have been too much. "Because I don't want to see you anymore." Because I don't want to be hurt anymore, you added internally. Â
Crossing your arms, you tried to build a confident stance, but when he stopped in front of your, you slumped your shoulders. Â
He was tall - taller and stronger than you were, and his dominance in combination with his charisma made you feel small and insecure in his presence.
"And I'm supposed to believe that?" The corners of his mouth lifted into the hint of a grin.
"I don't care what you believe," you said with flushed cheeks. "It doesnât matter. I've come to realize that this kind of friendship that we..." You fell silent. His hand had grabbed your chin and he had started stroking your lower lip with his thumb.
Oh, you knew that look in his eyes too well. Lust-filled and burning; he wanted you.
"Yeah? Go ahead," he said with nonchalance, but your heartbeat had doubled and every rational thought had been swept from your brain.
âA-Anyway⊠What I was trying to say was⊠I realized this kind of friendship isn't for me," you whispered with a trembling voice. He leaned down and placed his lips on the sensitive area of your neck, right where your pulse was. "Miles, what are you -" The rest of the sentence was lost in a moan as he began to suck on your skin.
"You were saying?" he mumbled.
He was so smug and self-satisfied, and the worst part was that he had every right to be. Â
"I was saying that -"
You were interrupted again. He was kissing you. Fiercely, beguilingly - it was not an innocent kiss.
Your knees gave way. He caught you, grinning against your lips, and you felt his hands close around your waist. Â Even if you had wanted to, you couldn't have escaped his strong embrace.
Well. So much for ending your friends with benefits arrangement.
"Miles - "
"Yes?"
But you didnât get a chance to answer. His hands roamed over your body, taking your face in his hands. His lips were everywhere - on your cheeks, your chin, your throat, your neck.
"This is not - not a good idea," you managed to say between his kisses.
Before you knew it, he had tossed you over his shoulder and carried you onto his bed, leaning over you and looking at you with dark and lust-veiled eyes.
"And why is that?â He ran his hand over the exposed skin on your stomach where your shirt had slid up. âWhy do you want to stop seeing me?â
Goosebumps came over you, and you felt your resolve vanish into thin air. You didn't want to admit that you had feelings for him; it was kind of embarrassing.
He pulled your shirt over your head and began to kiss every part of your exposed body. You half-heartedly tried to push him away from you, but to no avail.
"I asked you a question," he said, and you were so devoted to him, physically and mentally, that you would have done anything for him at that moment.
"Because I -" A gasp escaped you as his hand slipped into your pants.
"Because you�"
You were wet enough for him to slide two fingers inside you right away. You threw your head back, and curled your fingers into his broad shoulders.
"Say it," he demanded.
God, he was so unnerving, but also all-encompassing and persuasive at the same time. All you could do was tell the truth. "Because I...â You swallowed. âBecause I have feelings for you."
The haughty grin that appeared on his face told you everything you needed to know.
"But you already knew that, huh?" you asked.
Instead of answering, he leaned down again and pressed his lips against yours. It didn't take long for you to come - it never did when you were with him.
He always knew which buttons to push, which places on your body to touch to drive you to the brink of desperation and madness.
"Good girl," he said, and something inside you broke.
He was everything you wanted, and at the same time everything you would never have.
But the way he held you, the way he said your name⊠it almost sounded like you were something he didn't want to lose.
Hope was for fools, and you had never been one of the wise ones.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Spider-Verse (Sony Animated Movies)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Miles Morales/Reader
Characters: Miles Morales, Reader
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, (nothing is made explicit but these things are briefly mentioned and/or referenced), vent fic
Summary:
"Damn. Aren't you standing a little too close to the edge, young lady?"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Spider-Verse (Sony Animated Movies)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Miles Morales/Reader
Characters: Miles Morales, Reader
Additional Tags: First Kiss, Making Out, Frottage, Trapped In A Closet, Rivalry, Masturbation
Summary:
Thanks to a misunderstanding, New York now thinks you are a supervillain.
(featuring an awkward make out session in a supply closet)
