Web of Control

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/47885674.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: Spider-Man: Spider-Verse (Sony Animated Movies), Spider-Man - All
Media Types
Relationship: Miguel O'Hara/Reader, Miguel O'Hara/Original Female Character(s)
Character: Miguel O'Hara, Female Reader - Character, You
Additional Tags: Face-Sitting, Femdom, Uncircumcised Penis, Vaginal Sex, Shameless
Smut, Bottom Miguel O'Hara, POV Second Person, Hurt Miguel
O'Hara, softish Miguel, There just isn't enough bottom bitch Miguel
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-06-15 Words: 1,648 Chapters: 1/1

Web of Control
by 77warfrog

Summary

Miguel is slumped on the couch in a torn-up spider suit. He doesn’t acknowledge you as
you step inside. The air in the apartment was so heavy you could cut it with a knife.
“Rough day?” You said blithely as you walked over, trying to lighten the mood. He grunted
back in response as you gently took his chin between your fingertips to inspect the purple
bruise on his cheekbone. You slid your thumb up to his lips and concluded aloud,
“Definitely a rough day.”

It's tough being the de facto leader of Arachnoid Human Multiverse, that's why Miguel lets
you take control.

Notes

Not me suddenly writing again after 5 years LOL I am down bad for this 2D man

See the end of the work for more notes

Earth-928: Nueva York

You watch the Nueva York streets slowly shrink below you as the elevator ascended. A futuristic
car whizzes by, high above the sanctioned safety zone. Its bright lights fade, and you catch your
reflection in the glass- you opted to dress casually, or at least what casual is for your Earth. What’s
Miguel wearing? You wonder; the image of the man naked and waiting in his large bed flashes
through your mind. The elevator dings softly, alerting you that you’ve reached the floor of your
destination.

Even after a year of your arrangement, it still feels weird to be invited into Miguel’s apartment.
You would be lying if you said it didn’t give you a warm feeling in your chest knowing you are
one of the few to have its dimensional coordinates downloaded into your travel watch. A testament
to successfully peeling back the man’s many layers, allowing for vulnerability that most heroes
aren’t afforded.

The doors to the elevator open to an apartment that puts your shoebox to shame. In the middle of
the great room, Miguel is slumped on the couch in a torn-up spider suit. He doesn’t acknowledge
you as you step inside. The air in the apartment was so heavy you could cut it with a knife. “Rough
day?” You said blithely as you walked over, trying to lighten the mood. He grunted back in
response as you gently took his chin between your fingertips to inspect the purple bruise on his
cheekbone. You slid your thumb up to his lips and concluded aloud, “Definitely a rough day.”

“Cállate,” Miguel huffed, glaring at you as he took your thumb between his lips and pressed the
flat of his tongue against your pad. You clicked your tongue but couldn’t help but smile at his
tough-guy act. He called you here. You pushed your index finger in and hooked it around his fang
to tug him forward.

“Migs, watch yourself,” you chastised. “Get up, go to the room, and get in position.”

Whatever resolve he had left crumbled, and you loved it. You could always see the moment he
mentally relinquished control to you. “Yes, Mistress,” he said, pulling away and pushing himself
off the couch to do as told. You followed behind him, watching as he languidly removed his suit,
muscles rippling with each movement. His body was littered with various bruises and knicks (you
made a mental note to ask about them after). Despite the rough state of Miguel’s body, your pussy
grew warm and wet at the sight. You never grew tired watching him- whether it be in battle or in
bed. He was beautiful in a dark way that made you want to wreck him and be wrecked as well.

Once Miguel was fully nude, he sat on the edge of his ridiculously large bed with his hands folded
in his lap and his head bowed, waiting for his next orders. “Lay back and place your hands above
your head. Eyes on the ceiling.”

When he was in position, you webbed his hands together. You peeled off your clothes and
approached the bed. Miguel’s cock was already hard and dripping precum onto his hip. You
gingerly cupped his heavy balls into your hand and rolled them, his stomach tightened at the touch.
Seeing this, you looked up to watch his expression. As asked, his gaze remained fixed on the
ceiling, but his expression strained. He chewed his bottom lip, fangs piercing it as he stifled a
moan.

“I want to hear you,” you stated, giving his balls a sharp tug. Miguel keened your name in
response, his claws growing and retracting at the action. Good. You trailed your hand to the thick
base of his cock, your hand unable to fully wrap around it. It had taken you a couple fucks to be
able to fully get used to his size, but now you took him as though your pussy was made for his
cock. Sliding your hand up, you paused to pull back his foreskin to reveal his powder-pink head.
“Hold still,” you commanded before licking the sensitive gland.

Miguel moaned loudly, his hips involuntarily bucking up. You pressed your fingers down into the
large bruise on his hip as a warning.
"Arrepentido- sorry” he breathed out. You eased your fingers and continued lolling your tongue
around it, slurping up his salty precum. Above, Miguel whimpered at the overstimulation. “Please,
it hurts.”

“You can handle it. Be a good boy for me,” you said, moving a hand back to his balls as you kissed
the gland. You bore back down, continuing to abuse his oversensitive tip. You flattened your
tongue against his leaking tip and slowly dragged it across. Miguel let out a wet gasp as you
pushed him to his limit. You continued abusing the gland until you felt his balls contract in your
hand.

Miguel sobbed as you abruptly pulled away, “Mistress, please.” Your pussy throbbed at the
wrecked voice of the de facto leader of the Arachnoid Human Multiverse. His nostrils flared,
smelling your arousal, another side effect of his so-called vampirism. You dipped into your folds,
coating them with your slick. Before he could speak, you withdrew them and forced them into his
open mouth to silence his plea. Miguel eagerly sucked at them, watching you through his wet
lashes.

“I’m going to fuck your face, and you will make me cum,” you stated, scissoring his tongue with
your digits. “Then we can see if you deserve it too as well.”

It was an empty threat, but he didn’t need to know that. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed
around them. Satisfied, you pulled them out and climbed up his large body until you hovered over
his face as if you were in reverse cowgirl. You held back a shudder feeling his hot breath against
you. Eager, Miguel lurched up burying his nose into your thatch of hair, before running his tongue
along your lips tasting you. In a bold move, he bit your labia, careful to avoid his fangs, before
sucking at the spot to soothe it. Holding back a moan, you ground down against him, his stubble
scratching the inside of your thighs. He worked his tongue up to your clit to swirl the tip of his
tongue around the swollen nub. You leaned forward, jutting your hips back to seat yourself fully
on his mouth.

Miguel’s lips engulf you, his tongue finally dipping into you. His chest heaved as he moaned into
your pussy, making your hole flutter against his tongue. Everything about Miguel was big, down to
his tongue. The thick muscle pressed into you, fucking you open. You cursed under your breath
and rocked back onto him, uncaring if he could breathe.

Your vision blurs as your control begins to unravel. “Good boy, Miguel. That’s my good boy,” you
babbled to him, feeling that familiar pressure building in your core. Knowingly, Miguel abandoned
your hole and went back to your clit. He hummed against it, the vibrations making the building
pressure unfurl. It takes everything in you to compose yourself and sit up onto your knees.

You peered down at the man below you. Miguel gasped trying to catch his breath, looking
absolutely debauched with his lips and cheeks wet with your cum. He leaned up to suck at your wet
thatch again as if he was parched. As much as you wanted to stay enveloped in his hot mouth, his
cock was beckoning you.

You pulled away and turned around to look down into Miguel’s eyes. You pushed his sweaty hair
out of his face and cupped his cheek. “Miguel, tell me what you want.”

As you waited for him to find his voice, you looked back up at your webbed restraints. He really
was your good boy; the web was close to unraveling and breaking. You knew he could break them
as if they were silly string, yet he restrained himself.

Finally, he rasped out, “Your pussy.”

 Without any hesitation, you slid down to his cock and rubbed the head along your lips. “Please,” he
begged again, his hips stuttering up. You hummed in acknowledgement and sunk down onto him,
groaning as his cock stretched you. Once he was fully in, you leaned down and captured him in a
filthy kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

“Miguel,” you moaned into his mouth, unable to stop yourself. He whined, arching up into you as
you fucked him hard and fast. “Cum for me, baby. You were so, so good.”

He pulled away and buried his head into your shoulder, a sob escaping his lips. Miguel thrusted up,
burning himself to the hilt. His large cock throbbed painfully inside you as he came; his warm seed
filling you to the brink. Unrelenting, you snapped your hips back, fucking him through his orgasm.
He cried out your name, overstimulated and spent as you continued. Once you were tired and
satisfied, you sat back to admire the wrecked man below you.

The webbed restraints finally snapped, and Miguel threw his arm across his forehead. “Get off
me,” he heaved. “My dick hurts.”

Miguel’s gaze shifted down to watch you slid off his cock, his cum spilling out of you. You swore
you heard the man purr at the obscenity. Mental note: Miguel can maybe purr, you mused to
yourself as you webbed the remnants of Miguel’s spider suit to clean up.

“Thank you,” he murmured tiredly as you plopped down next to him. His body tensed as you ran
your fingers along the already healing bruises. As if he could read your mind, he said in a clipped
tone, “I’ll tell you tomorrow, I’m exhausted.”

You rolled your eyes, deciding not to press the man, Miguel and his moods. Sensing your
displeasure, he pulled you into his side, “I promise.”

End Notes

That's all folks. I may or may not write more

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