daily thoughts

june 25th 🏳️‍🌈

✧〲☻〲✧〲☻〲✧〲☻〲✧

Miguel O'Hara is so, so, so fine. The plump round booty, those fucking broad shoulders, those back muscles, the skinny waist, the muscular thighs, and the damn crawling in the movie—the everything! Yes, it is what WE needed in life. It is what I needed in life!

Also, it's been a long ass minute since I have spoken/typed in Spanish, so y'all are the first to see this regression! I welcome y'all to come for me if I used the wrong conjugation on a word or the wrong word, in general.

✧〲☻〲✧

MIGUEL O'HARA is aware of his duty to protect the spider-verse from collapsing in on itself. He takes it serious, and he's willing to put his life on the line to ensure that it is safe. However, the woman that he saved in Earth-1610 was someone that made him think back to his alternate reality where he had a daughter, where he had someone to cherish and to hold onto. Yes, he knew that it was dangerous, but the way you gazed up at him with so much kindness and warmth made him feel that he was human, and there was nothing wrong with him. The effect you casted on him made him feel.. alive.

MIGUEL O'HARA wasn't supposed to, but he took risks to see you.. only for a second, only for a minute, only for an hour, only for a day. Seeing you wake up, get dressed, and head out for a new day was always something he liked watching. He loved seeing how either happy, exhausted, or angered you were about the new day. He loved watching you snap at people when they pulled your strings. He loved watching you maneuver your way through the train and sigh in relief when you found a seat. He loved watching you come back home and slouch on your couch from your exhausting day—you were purely human. You had your perfections and imperfections, but that's what made him think you were beautiful.

MIGUEL O'HARA knew well he wasn't supposed to take an interest in you, but this was not something he could simply let pass, so he went for only one chance. He wouldn't mess up anything—he swore.. he'll be in, and he'll leave out with only one trace..

"Mi hermosa, abre," Miguel whispers so sweetly against your neck as if he's not pounding deep into your mess of a cunt. You weren't sure how you got here—all you remember was going to the bar for some drinks with a friend, then this beautiful, big older man ended up appearing out of nowhere, awkwardly introducing himself and asking if you wanted to DANCE in a damn busy bar. You vividly remember dancing despite the strange stares the both of you got, but you are just unsure how you ended up in this hotel room taking these fast strokes. Did you say something to provoke him, was it the tension when you were dancing, or did he say something to you to provoke you?

All of it was unclear, but you were fine having it that way. Everything was feeling so good that you were unsure how you were living without this that whole time.

You hesitate to spread your legs open wider, but he helps you by planting his big hands onto your knees and spreading them wide for him to see the work he's putting your pussy through. Your facial features crinkle in euphoria and your back lifts off the mattress—how many seconds has it been? How many minutes? How many hours? Did this just start? Were you and him nearing the end of this mind-numbing fucking session? Nothing was in your brain. Nothing was there except crystal clear images of his fat, veiny dick pistoning in-and-out your tight core with ease. You weren't even speaking. All you could do was lay there; pant, cry, whimper, moan, scream, and repeat. The dick was too good. It was too fucking good.