Trick or Treat
Miguel x Curvy!Fem!Reader
TW/CW: None, other than Miguel being a bit thirsty (haha pun intended you'll see what I mean)
A/N: Thanks to @obi-mom-kenobi for the fic idea for spooky day™! (I'm sorry the plot got off track, though asdfghjkl)
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He should have figured something like this would have happened.
He should have figured that he would do this.
Goddamn Deadpool.
Of course he caused a ruckus in one of the other universes, just to hop to this one to avoid Miguel, taunting him the whole time.
And naturally, it had to be fucking Halloween of all nights in this universe.
Among the Michaels, Jasons, goblins, ghouls, and witches and werewolves there were superheroes.
Iron Man, Doctor Strange, and half a thousand Spider-Mans.
This universe didn't have things like superheroes, not for real. All of that was Hollywood magic for the silver screen; the colorful fevered dream of a comic book artists.
He spent four hours trudging through the crowds, shouldering past drunkards and women dressed in far too little to be classified as clothing...
He finally spotted a Deadpool. The costume was very accurate, right down to the texture of the suit and how many pouches were on his belt.
But he was wrong. It was just some... Guy. Dressed in a "screen-accurate" cosplay.
But it was around the fifth hour (and twelve, terrified innocent Deadpool cosplayers later) that he got so frustrated he actually decided to take a break.
"Puta madre it's like Mardis Gras..." He hissed out, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He'd long abandoned wearing his mask, wanting complete unobstructed range of his sense of smell and hearing. Neither of which have been particularly helpful with the smell of vomit, liquor, perfume and sweets littering the air.
"Wow! Buddy, you look like you need a good time!" A man dressed in some macabre clown suit said to him. When Miguel fixed his crimson eyes on him the man seemed to deflate, the gulp in his throat audible as his posture shrunk and he struggled to keep his voice collected at the imposing sight of the larger man.
He pointed at the door to a bar that seemed full to bursting, crowds chattering, and a group of obnoxious women clucking like drunken hens as they left, shouting rather inappropriate things at Miguel as they walked by.
Miguel sighed and decided to just say fuck it, one drink or so. Deadpool probably already hopped to another dimension already and this could be a pointless waste of time.
The patrons parted around him like the sea for Moses, too intimidated by the man who towered over them to stay in his way as he made it over to the bar.
The seat to the barstool creaked under his weight as he sat down, burying his face in his hand
This is the last time he'd ever chase down a Deadpool. Next time, he would pass it off to Ben or hell, even Hobie...
"Wow! Miguel, huh?" A bubbly voice giggled out.
His head shot up as she mentioned his name, and hi blinked at her.
Uncharacteristically, he felt his mouth go dry at her costume.
The black dress was cut down to the top of her underbust corset, revealing delicious amounts of her marshmallowy soft-looking cleavage. Honestly, if the woman sneezed, she'd probably spill right out of it...
Her hair was... Off. A kind of black beehive atop her head, sharp makeup accentuating her cheekbones and eyes. Bright, crimson lips smiled at him, dimples in her cheeks.
She wasn't rail thin like the other women who had come onto him all night, her body was soft, and squeezable; warm and looking as though he would get decent handfuls of her sweet soft rolls in his hands--
"Wow! You even look like him, too!" You giggle.
His mouth opened and he blinked.
"Ah... El... Elvira. Right?" He tried. He remembered Peter showing him that movie one of the times he'd visited him and MJ's place.
"Ah! Ding ding, my dear!" You grin, tapping your nose. "Some people keep saying I'm Morticia Addams."
"Ah..." He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter.
Even in your heels, you had a feeling that if this man was standing on his own two feet he'd tower over you.
"Wow! You really do look like Miguel!" You gasped, your ruby red lips parted in a sweet "O".
They looked so soft, just like the rest of you--
"Well! What's your name, big guy?" You ask, your long, wispy (maybe fake?) eyelashes batted at him.
"Uh... Miguel." He said stiffly.
You giggle again, a sound he was quickly focusing on, a sound he found he liked amongst the hustle of the other patrons in the bar.
"Pff, no, silly. Your name."
"...Miguel."
Your smile falters a bit as you blink up at him.
"Oh. Oh! Oh gosh, that's your actual name? I'm sorry!" You laugh awkwardly.
He decided that maybe, just maybe... His night wouldn't be spoiled after all.
"Well, I don't think it's bad enough to apologize for..." He said, flashing a smile, his fangs poking out just past his lips.
You giggle a bit girlishly. "Oh! Oh, that's not what I meant... But I mean! At least you're... Well, uh. In character! You got the looks, the height, the name!"
Miguel shakes his head with a deep chuckle.
"I suppose I do." He fixed you with a soft gaze as his fingers tapped the bar top. "What's your name?"
You grinned at him and tapped the name plate on your breast, drawing his gaze downward to your cleavage.
He felt his face heat up a bit as his eyes lingered on the soft swells, until his brain finally processed the name written.
He repeated it back to you, his voice just barely shaky.
"Yep! Don't wear it out!" You wink, leaning on the bar.
Once again, your cleavage on full display, just begging for him to--
"So, no offense but you look absolutely miffed 'bout something." You chuckle.
"You... Could say that." He struggled, clearing his throat. "I was... Supposed to meet somebody but they... Bailed."
"Oh, god, I haaaaaate that for you, bud." You say, leaning back with a click of your tongue. Your long acrylic nails tap on the laminated bar.
"So! What'll it be?"
"Uh... I don't have any money on me. Sorry."
"Hah!" You point up at the whiteboard sign above the tap.
'Those in costume -- First two drinks are free!'
He blinked up at the sign. "That's... Generous."
"Yeah, my boss is big on community. And I'm the one who told him that promising two free drinks instead of one will draw our competitor's clientele away." You wink.
"That's awfully... poachy of you." Miguel smirked.
You shrugged. "What can I say? Capitalism is capitalism and you gotta make a buck somehow. And besides! Halloween and other holidays are the best nights for tips!"
You looked back at him with a twinkle in your eye.
"So! What'll it be mister Spider-Man?"
"...Hell. The strongest drink you have."
"Ooooh! Risk taker! I like it." You laugh in a sing-song as you turn to start gathering what you needed to mix his cocktail.
The gaze of all the male patrons were drawn to you when you started shaking, humming to yourself as you did, looking at the list of things for the drink you were making, not paying mind to the prying eyes ogling your breasts. Miguel was, abashedly one of them. But he stopped himself once he realized what he was doing, the others?
He wanted to strangle all of them. Especially the three men next to him who were making bets on who would convince you to go to their car with them.
They clammed up when Miguel leaned in when you turned away.
"Keep staring at her like that, and I will gouge out your eyes, pendejos." He growled, flexing his talons in the face of one of the men for emphasis.
They all freaked out and ran, not wanting to piss off some 6 plus foot whatever guy with what looked like retractable blades on his fingers, and glowing red eyes.
When you turned back around, the cherry red drink topped with strawberries and a black cherry in hand, you grinned at him, and saw the money on the counter.
"Oh!" You hum, handing Miguel his drink and placing the money in their proper places.
"So... What's in this?" Miguel asked, sniffing the drink lightly.
You smile again at him, a cheeky glimmer in your eyes. "That would be telling, sweetheart. But I will say I put some sour grenadine in it."
"Hah. Fair enough." Miguel said, taking a sip of his drink.
The burning in his throat caught him off-guard. As did the heavy taste of the alcohol, that was quickly snuffed by the fruity flavor as he swallowed it down.
"It's... Good."
"Your cringe says you weren't expecting the punch." You smirk, crossing your arms and pushing up your soft breasts.
"It's... Surprising." He conceded, plucking the black cherry up out of the top of the glass.
He decided to make a bit of a show as he curled his tongue around the cherry, bringing it into his mouth and snapping off the stem, chewing lightly.
Miguel couldn't help but notice the way your cheeks flush a little bit and you busy yourself with wiping down glasses.
Maybe tonight wasn't such a bust, after all.
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