Taking care of you || Miguel O'hara
Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader
Summary: Miguel comes home after a rough week and a half out of his universe and you decided that the only way to take care of him was to web him down.
Tags: NOT BETA READ, SMUT, bondage, overstimulation, denied orgasms, multiple orgasms, blowjob, blindfolds, he bites you and paralyzes you, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), big dick Miguel, sub Miguel (ig??? he still try to get the upper hand throughout)
Words: 2k
I was struggling because all the words I know are aggressive because I watch gaming streamer (Quackity & Roier) and I don't think moaning pendejo or chinga tu madre is very sexy.
Spanish speakers, tell me what moanable curses you guys have, it's for science (I am begging u)
mi vida - my life || cariño - honey || mi amor - my love || dios mio - my god || mierda - shit || puta madre - motherfucker
When Miguel came home after a long week and a half, he’d expect a heartful meal to consume before passing out on a warm bed beside you. To get bound on the chair with a special web fluid designed to keep him down in the dimly lit apartment is not one of those expectations.
Being a Spider-Man with no spider senses, his first instinct was to break out of the binds, calming down and unmasking once he caught a whiff of your scent.
“Mi vida? What are you planning this time?”
“Nada, is it a crime to want to take care of you?”
Your touch burned through his suit as you dragged your fingers across his chest. After days without being to see nor feel your presence near him, the desire in his chest grew from a pea sized to universal.
“I’ll give you thirty minutes to finish what you planned before I break out of this shit.”
You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look over his shoulder where you stood so mysteriously with no indication of your clothing visible to his eyes.
“You won’t.”
Miguel chuckled. “Why not? I can probably break out of this if I want to.”
“I’ll go back home to my dimension for a month and you wouldn’t even be able to find me since you’d be busy with work.”
He frowned, cursing under his breath to which you giggled at.
“Are you going to break out, mi amor?”
He said nothing, turning away bitterly and you took it as a win.
“Now, let me take care of you.”
When your lips first touched his neck, a spark went off in his veins. He grunts as your hands start roaming his chest with feather-light touches, forcing him to retract the suit to be able to feel your warmth on his skin to complete the gaping hole in his chest.
There was something about Miguel being tied up, hopeless and responsive to your touches as depravity clawed at his chest.
The frustrated groan when you pulled away to reposition yourself to sit on his lap told you everything you knew, the tent poking you when you sat on him was also a confirmation. Placing a kiss on his cheekbones, you pulled out the blindfold from your pockets and he groaned.
"Really?"
"Oh shush."
You've read somewhere about blindfolds enhancing the experience as a whole, something about taking out one sense amplifying the others and decided to try it out tonight.
And Miguel having sharper senses than most Spider people only made your plan irresistible to not do.
Tying it around his eyes, you find yourself enamored with how vulnerable and submissive he looks right now.
"Darling, you look so pretty like this."
He scoffed. "I would look better on top of you, cariño."
"Fair enough."
Unbuttoning his shirt, you placed light kisses on every inch of skin exposed to your eyes while he'd sigh at the feeling of your lips on him. You weren't able to unbutton it all nor push it away due to the webs but you deemed it perfect as long as his pecs and some parts of his collarbones are out in the open.
Turning your attention to his pants, you captured his lips with yours and it instantly grew heated with a hunger not even a meal alone can satisfy. Pulling his fly down, your hands rose to tug at his hair to which he groaned, a reaction you've never had in the past.
Is it really effective?
Pulling away, you tugged on his waistbands and pulled them down to reveal his girth standing at full attention leaking with pre-cum.
"Fuck… touch me."
“You’re not in control here.”
Even then, you wrapped your hand around his dick and even that alone got his breath stuck to his throat.
Maybe you should bring the blindfold more often…
Pumping him leisurely, he threw his head back, melting into the chair, thighs spreading wider as the enhanced ecstasy spiked his veins, stirring every fiber of his system awake.
"Mierda, th-that feels so good…"
The sight of his glistening chest heaving heavily as sweat beads on his forehead is enough to make your nose bleed till the next year. A memory forever ingrained in your mind.
You trailed kisses on his collarbones and up to the side of his neck. Miguel's streams of mumbled Spanish curses and shaky exhales should be classified as a drug with how addicted and how greedily you were engulfing every noise he makes.
"You look so pretty like this baby, it makes me want to tease you a little."
He said nothing, reveling in the nirvana you offered him so generously. His hips struggled and writhed in the small space he was allowed to, chasing his promised euphoria with desperation.
But before he could notify you, you unmounted him and he let out a frustrated groan. Miguel was about to rip the binds until you got to your knees, only to web his feet to the chair legs as well and he grew more tempted to do so.
"Come on! Even the feet?"
"Gotta secure the package, darling."
Placing chaste kisses on his weeping head, the complaints died down in his throat. You then laved your tongue around his slit, gathering as much of his pre-cum and he groaned, dick twitching in your hold. His taste is heavy on your tongue and you moan.
You missed him on your tongue.
Taking his whole cockhead, Miguel flinched, arms struggling behind him as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked hard while circling your tongue around his girth, providing him multiple sensations surrounding his girth.
"Dios mio, remove this blindfold. I wanna see you." He said, almost begging. "Please?"
"No, you look prettier this way."
Your hands stroked the places your mouth couldn't reach and Miguel's thighs trembled. His pants and borderline whimpers sounded like a sweet melody, the sight of his perspired skin glistening under the moonlight with his head thrown back burning itself at the back of your lids.
You'd stop at nothing to be able to see him like this again.
Then you heard a snap from the webs and you halted, pulling away to his absolute dismay.
"No no no no, ay puta madre—"
"Stop struggling and maybe I will continue."
He didn't say anything, his fuzzy mind struggling to conjure any good bargain to bring up.
"R-remove the blindfold then I'll consider."
"Nope."
He groaned, almost whiny and you grinned. Miguel slowly settled down, suppressing himself from breaking more threads. Once you deemed him behaved enough, you dipped down to take him in once more.
Relaxing your mouth, you sink in another inch of him before descending as further as you could go and pumping the other areas you knew you couldn't reach. The groan that left his lips was guttural, almost animalistic.
"Fuck, I'm near. Deeper cariño, I know you can do it."
Pinching his shaking thighs, you quickened your strokes while waiting for any tell tale of his climax. When his breathing picked up and his abdomen pulsed, you pulled away.
And Miguel whimpered.
And he realized it a little too late, cheeks darkening as he groaned in embarrassment.
"You did not hear that."
You laughed lightly. "But it was cute."
"Fuck your cute and pretty bullshit, why did you pull away?!"
You grinned. "I liked seeing you struggle."
"Ripping this off gets very tempting every passing second."
"I'll run away and don't think I won't do it."
The sound of you shedding off your shorts stopped him from mumbling incoherent complaints. You swung your leg over his thighs and placed yourself above his weeping dick. With his sense of smell
"Don't break from the webs, alright? If you do—"
"You'll run away, I know. Just fucking get on with it."
"So impatient, what if I don't do anything at all?"
"I will break off these chains and take you on the floor. Don't tempt me." He growled, pushing his arms out, stretching the webs as a demonstration.
Rolling your eyes, you lined him against your heat and sank down, the hardest part of your plan for the evening. Despite trying your best to stretch yourself out earlier before his arrival along with the drenched state you're in, it proved useless with how difficult it was to have him.
You hissed as the burn of the stretch lit your veins on fire and Miguel grunted, arms twitching at his sides.
"St-stop clenching so hard!"
"Not my fault you have a big dick!"
As you take in more of his inches, Miguel grew crazy at the warm tightness surrounding him reawakening the denied orgasm earlier. The blindfold taking away his sight only magnified the pleasure flooding his system to the brim. The coil in his abdomen tightened and he threw his head back, absolutely light-headed and drunk on ecstacy.
"Le-let me bite you, yeah? It'll go away. Fuck…! I'm so close..."
You didn't second guess his intentions, falling to his shoulder with your neck bared to his lips. Trusting your Spider-Man genes, he spared no time leaning down and sinking his fangs into you.
You gasped at the feeling of his incisors piercing your skin as your mind grew fuzzy and your body numbed itself to paralysis. Miguel, desperate for his climax, plunged his entire length into you before thrusting savagely in and out of your heat.
The sound of a hundred threads ripping off cuts through the air, his arms surged from behind the chair to curl around you. His heavy exhales, borderline whines, made your brain short circuit as he chased after his denied orgasms ferociously.
Panting openly on your shoulders with your name vaguely murmured like a mantra, you moaned at his sounds as he came with a shout, the feeling of his liquid arousal spurting into you made you shiver with delight but the shaking thighs beneath you only fueled your arousal further.
"F-fuck…! Thank you cariño. Mierda..."
The paralysis ebbs away while Miguel continues to convulse, albeit weaker than before. Mouth hung open as he threw his head back, hands falling to your waists.
"How rude, you didn't even consider my pleasure, mi amor."
His grip on your sides tightened as you bounced on his dick and he faltered, trembling as he gasped and groaned at the overstimulation nipping at his senses. His hands tapped your thighs, asking for some rest and you slowed, waiting for him to use your safeword.
When he didn't, you picked up your previous pace and grinned.
"But when I did that, did you stop, cariño?"
He didn't answer as streams of Spanish curses and colorful words escaped his mouth.
"Exactly, so take it like a king, alright? Maybe I'll forgive you for getting off the web."
You rolled your clit in tight and fast circles, growing merciful for him as his sounds turned into whimpers and pleads. The sinful sight of his sweaty self blindfolded and body intoxicated by ecstasy along with his beautiful noises was enough to bring you to the edge.
With a few strokes and rolls of your beads, you came. Warmth explodes from your chest to your fingertips and you let yourself sag to his shoulder whilst he grunted at the stings of overstimulation still mouthing at him as your walls pulsed around him.
"Fuck…! G-get off…"
He didn't even manage to get his sentence out when he exploded again inside of you and practically lost consciousness with how lax he turned beneath you.
Concerned, you tapped his cheeks. "Baby, are you still there?"
It took a while but he eventually answered, removing the blindfolds himself to peer up at you with glazed eyes. "Barely… You won't leave right?"
"Yeah, I was joking."
"Alright…"
You smiled, placing kisses on his forehead, cheeks, and lips. Miguel's face bloomed at this, grinning slightly.
"You did so well, darling."
He only nods. "I'm confiscating that solution by the way, you're not webbing me up again."
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Thinking about restless spirit Tony Stark who just can't move on to the after life.
The first thing he does once he realizes he's an apparition is check on Pepper and Morgan. True to their word, they're okay. He watches them for a bit but feels this deep unrest pulling him away from the quaint home he yearns for.
There's a deep wrongness within him, some unfinished business that draws him back to New York.
He fears for a moment that it's Peter- but no, it can't be him. He'll be in Massachusetts right now, attending MIT as a freshman. There isn't a doubt in Tony's mind that his little genius is already making his mark.
Still, he follows the pull of his spirit to some dingy Queens' apartment he's never been to before.
It's deep in the night yet the apartment is empty. He looks around a bit, his body phasing through anything he attempts to touch.
It's small and dirty. There's old coffee cups on the desk, alongside a couple GED manuals. Great, the universe thinks he has unfinished business with some broke high school dropout.
He's pondering how he must have screwed up this kid's life; was it the Avengers, Stark Industries? Maybe his old playboy lifestyle is finally coming to bite him in the ass.
His contemplation is cut short by the sound of the window cracking open.
It strikes Tony for a moment that maybe he's stuck on Earth to be a guardian angel, Iron Man living on as some invisible protector against whatever creep is sneaking into people's windows. It doesn't make much sense considering the whole non-corporeal thing, but he still stiffens like he's ready for a fight.
He sees a man- no, a thing? A creature maybe, or an alien. Even in death Tony can't escape being one of Earth's mightiest heroes.
The creature is shrouded in darkness, something slick and bald crawling inside the room with terrifying grace and silence. It shuts the window with a soft kssssh as the seal is formed.
And then it pulls off its mask.
There, with the click of a table lamp, glows the face of Peter Parker.
He's definitely older now; sturdier shoulders, a rugged set of his jaw, hair tamed to something semi-professional. Still present, though, are those gentle brown eyes.
Nothing makes sense right now. Why is his kid here, in this apartment? Surely May wouldn't allow this. How many tenant laws does this place break? Where are his little sidekick friends? And on what planet would Peter Parker ever need a GED?
Tony's getting angry now, watching Peter move around the tiny space. He changes out of his costume and into pajamas. That spider suit isn't Tony's suit, it looks like cheap craft store fabric.
The kid opens a small freezer and pulls out the singular bag of peas that reside in there, pressing it against his ribs while he goes to pop some bread into a toaster.
Tony takes note of every glimpse he gains into Peter's life. Empty cabinets when he reaches for a jar of peanut butter. A fridge housing nothing but condiments and energy drinks when he goes to grab jam. A drawer with two spoons, no forks, and a paring knife which he pulls out and sticks into the strawberry jam jar just as the toast pops.
This is all so wrong.
Tony's outrage is coming to a rolling boil. Peter deserves the world- he was gonna give him the world. He couldn't wait to send Peter to MIT and show him off as his protégé. Tony was gonna fund his projects, tease him about pretty girls, maybe even see him step back from Spider-Man and act like a normal college kid. He wanted to see him flourish and grow up. It was all he could think about when Peter turned to dust between his fingers; he should be goofing off with his friends at a mathletes meeting, or building Legos, not fighting an intergalactic war.
Tony couldn't even conceive how much went wrong to end up here.
Alone. Broke. No school. He didn't even have his Stark suit to protect him. Everything that made him him has been stripped, leaving him in this shallow box with scuffed paint and hollow cabinets.
Tony can feel the violent rage burn deep in his spirit as he thinks about it.
This is why he's here. He can't let his boy live like this, wasting his potential to be some villain's punching bag. Where is everyone? Does no one care enough to stop this? The fury that builds in Tony is dangerous, wondering why a dead man is the only one who cares about the teen's life right now.
Without thinking Tony's hand reaches for the GED textbook, a mocking piece of work that laughs in his face, and throws it at the stupid little kitchenette that's mere feet from the bed.
It sails across the room with surprising speed before it's met with a thunk against Peter's palm, hand reaching out to catch it from the air before it collided with the toaster.
Oh.
Peter sets the book down and immediately picks up his web shooters, eyes darting furiously to every corner of the tiny apartment.
"Who's there?"
Tony steps a little closer but Peter's eyes just look right past him.
"C'mon Pete, c'mon. I'm here, I'm right here."
Tony looks for something else to grab. He swats at a hopefully empty coffee cup on the wooden desk, but his hand just passes right through it.
"Shit," the hope Tony felt waivers slightly and he tries again.
Nothing.
Peter is searching his apartment now, making sure the window is secure and feeling around every crevice, bookshelves, under the bed, in the top corners of the room. Searching for something nefarious, tech maybe.
Tony hits the cup, again and again, frustration building up and up and up till-
The cup flies across the room, Tony and Peter's eyes track its movements as it bounces against the ground and rolls to a stop.
"Shit," Peter breathes out.
Tony walks up to Peter now, standing before him.
"Figure it out. Think kid, you've met aliens, gods, magicians, surely ghosts aren't too far fetched."
Peter closes his eyes. His posture straightens, Tony watches him take a deep breath in as the hairs on his bare arms stand on end.
Peter's eyes blink open, and they're looking directly at Tony.
Tony smirks, "that's it."
Peter turns around and picks the cup off the ground, running to his desk with it and ripping a piece of lined paper out of a notebook and scribbling furiously on it.
Tony walks over as Peter places the cup in the center of the paper.
On the left is the word YES in bold print, NO on the right.
"Okay, okay okay. So, move the cup if, if you wanna talk. Um, is there someone in the room right now?"
Tony reaches for the cup, an intense glare as his fingertips graze it gently. It shifts minutely towards the YES.
"Shit! Shit. Sorry, whew. Okay. Are you friendly?"
Tony moves it to YES again.
"Are you a, um. Person? Like not an alien?"
YES.
"Are you wearing tech, invisibility suit or your molecules are uncalibrated or maybe it's a portal thing like, multiverse shit is happening again, a mirror universe! Oh, maybe a..."
Tony let's a frustrated sign. The kid is too practical, logical. He needs to think like a non-genius.
"... could be. Or, or maybe you're just a ghost-"
Tony perks up and immediately swats the cup, causing it to fly off the desk towards the YES.
"Oh. Oh that's... kinda normal. Or maybe really weird? I mean... I certainly have some ghosts in my past."
Peter picks the cup up and puts it back on the desk.
"Do I know you?"
YES.
"You said you were friendly, and I'm not getting any danger tingles from you. I'm gonna start with people I know are dead, cuz I just really hope you're not a... new ghost. Um. M-May?"
The boy's voice cracks on the word and Tony freezes. May is dead? Tony starts to fear that things are a lot more wrong than he previously thought.
Peter's breath catches and Tony realizes he's waiting, dying for an answer, and quickly pokes the cup towards NO.
Peter's shoulders sag.
"Uncle Ben?"
NO.
"T- Mr. Stark?"
Tony grins, "now we're getting somewhere!"
YES.
Tony is going to have his work cut out for him, but being here with Peter just feels right.
Peter breaks out into a matching smile.
"Wow, okay. I think I'm gonna need more paper," he says as the boy gets to work making a more complex system than YES and NO.
Tony watches on proudly, reminiscing about all the great Peter was and all the great he still is, despite his situation. Whatever this is, they'll figure it out.
Together.
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