Spin The Bottle!
“Do I look like the devil to you?”
Pairings:CollegeNerd!Miguel O’Hara x Popular!Black!AFAB! OC
Content Warnings: vomiting, Bee plays nurse (again), crying (It’s Miguel), begging, Miguel gets pushy, mentions of insecurities, making out, Miguel gets hard, description of dick prints(we like em thick over here TEEHEE)
Summary: After spilling his guts, both physically and literally, the only thing left on Miguel’s mind is getting the one thing that was robbed from him since the very beginning. The only question is, if he can stay sober long enough to actually go through with it.
A/N: Ngl i was tryna do l0s3r tuesdays and fucked that up SO HEEEYYY WE’RE DOING l0s3r FRIDAY GUYS YAAAAYYY. Also, REAL NIGGAS KNOW WHERE I GOT THAT QUOTE FROM. no im not a furry, YES i am writing a AU fic of legoshi AH leave me alone
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September 19th, 20XX. The Village at Alchemax University, Apartment 2901. 5:45PM. Earth-05213.
It had only been fifteen minutes since Miguel drunkly decided to confess his love for Bee, slurring over the Spanish admission before he subsequently pushed them aside to violently throw-up into the bedazzled pink kitchen trashcan standing behind their frame.
If Bee was being completely honest, they didn’t know what he had expected to happen. Anyone who would’ve tried to finish seven beers back to back in the span of thirty minutes would’ve been exactly like him, in the exact same scenario.
“Huuuurrrk!” Another violent gag echoed into the metal can, with Miguel’s palms laying flat against the plastic beads for support while his stomach emptied out all of its contents. “Fuck—huuuurrrrk!”
The beau behind him methodically rubbed their soft fingers up and down the muscle of his shoulder blades in effort to soothe him. It was a persistent row of gags following whatever he had eaten throughout the day meeting alongside the rest of the dirty trash—they’d have to make a reminder to throw that out later, Bee told themselves while they occasionally scolded him like a worried lover. “Stop trying to talk, Miguel.” They reminded him, “You’re just going to hurt your throat more.” A harsh sigh filled the kitchen space, one wrapped in sadness and in all honesty, heartbreak. Watching Miguel like *this*—drunk off of his ass, in distraught, so sick he was vomiting—it was like mental torture. “Miguel…”
However, to the hunched over man they sounded nothing short of disappointed. Like the high hopes Bee had for him had crashed and burned, and the thought of that kind of rejection made Miguel feel even worse. It made the throbbing headache blooming against his skull pulse harder, the swirling feeling in his stomach increasing its nauseating effect. “Lo siento…” He softly began to cry in hopes for their forgiveness, dropping his head lower into the trashcan like a bad dog. “I’m s-so—huuuurrrk!”
Another violent gag. Another consecutive five minutes of rubbing up and down his back to soothe the feeling of his stomach acid burning his throat from the inside out, another five minutes of whispering soft praises behind Miguel’s frame in encouragement for him to keep going. “That’s it…just let it out, hon’….” Bee encouraged like the angel they were, their southern accent slipping through the pet name like silk. “You’ll feel better soon…”
And even with his throat slowly beginning to ache from how much he had been throwing up, Miguel still managed to bask in the soft praises that they had so kindly offered to him. Like a guiding hand to lead him out of the darkness. Because that little pet name—hon’—felt like nothing but the sunlight warming his skin after a brutal winter. But the moment wasn’t basked on for long however, because soon after Miguel felt that familiar reactive gag clutch at his throat all over again. “Hurk!”
Jesus Christ, Bee had thought to themselves, the sound of liquor splattering against the bagged sides forcing their own stomach to toss and turn in disgust. This was like being stuck in between a wall and a hard place. If they didn’t get in contact with Loretta soon, it would only mean Miguel would suffer for even longer. He’d be like this, and the effect of ‘sad, drunk, and lonely’ didn’t wear off easily on its own. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Bee softly began as if they were talking to a mere child, slowly removing their hand off of him in caution. “I just need to go—“
“¡No!” Miguel suddenly shouted at the feeling of their warmth fleeing from his body, the loud holler echoing throughout the room before he pulled is head back with a sudden jerk, the droplets of his remaining vomit still dribbling on his bottom lip. “I can be good—“ He began with a swift turn of his broad shoulders, twisting his body to face them with the same left eye all wide and pleading. “I c-can be good.” Miguel repeated with a crack of his voice, and since his now broken glasses had been fully removed from his face, it left Bee to be forced to stare deeply into his burnt umber eye. To see the desperation, the infatuated need for them to stay right where they were and not even an inch away. Just like when he said…
Bee allowed a thick wad of saliva to make its course down the column of their throat, simply staring at their boyfriend’s face like a deer stuck in headlights as he began to pathetically beg. “No t-te vayas.” He whispered out with a raspy plead, the usual smooth reverb of his voice now dried and raw from the constant assault of liquor leaving his system. “L-Lo prometo. P-Prometo que puedo.”
Their shoulders gradually dropped at his faithful promise, regretful that they even *had* to step away. Because it was starting to feel like if Bee was even two steps away from him, he would’ve actually bursted into tears on the spot. “I’m just getting you medicine.” They offered a promise of their own, leaning forward just enough to brush away some of the curly strands of hair dangling in front of his face. “That’s all.” Bee continued, sliding their fingers across his skin to cup the firmness of his sharp cheekbone—the one that didn’t pulse with an angry purple-red mix. “Then I’ll be right back. Okay?”
Miguel absolutely melted, not just his mind, but his body too. His shoulders drooped, fluttering his eye like Bee hung up all the stars and sun, his heavy hands slowly making their way from his hairy muscular thighs to the pearl resin floor of the kitchen. He hoped they would never stop cooing at him like that. “O-Okay…” He peacefully hummed for a moment, only to whine when Bee began to pull away once again. “Don’t—“
But his lover quickly shushed him, pressing a single finger against his nose to push his body backwards. “No, no!” They quieted him, taking a single step away before they reached for their glittery pink phone on the counter. “Five minutes, okay?”
“Five?!” Their kneeled needy boyfriend actually howled at the idea, because five minutes? Did Bee realize just how long five minutes actually was to him right now? They might as well had been asking him to suffer for an eternity. “No!”
Oh boy.
“Just,” Bee tried to negotiate, taking another step backwards before he would try and grab them—and confess his love, all over again. “Give me five minutes, okay?” The beau pleaded, holding up the both of their hands in mock defense. “Just give me five minutes.”
September 19th, 20XX. The Village at Alchemax University, Apartment 2901. 5:58PM.
“He said huh?!” Loretta’s surprised voice shrieked through the receiving line of the phone, forcing Bee to tilt their head back from the loud and abrupt noise. They stood alone in the darkness of their bedroom, standing in the corner with the door slightly ajar. Of course the first thing they were going to tell their best friend of ten years was that the guy they were shackled up with last night, and who was now in their home, had confessed his love for them in a sad drunken ramble, who wouldn’t? “No way he actually said that!”
“Yes way!” Bee quickly hissed, moving their hands about while they freaked out. Because love? Miguel couldn’t love them, no, that was absurd. Like, maybe, but not love. They just met, you cant fall in love with someone you just met. “And now he’s throwing up Etta,” They had begun, starting to walk in a constant back-and-forth motion while they observed Miguel’s frame just out if the corner of their eye. “You have to help me!”
Despite their desperate attempts to not be stuck alone in this crazy situation, their best friend heavily sighed into the mic with a defeated demeanor. Oh no. “Noooo.” Bee began to whine, throwing their head back with a loud cry. They could already *hear* Loretta’s ‘no’ before she even said it. “No-hoo!”
“Friend,” Loretta began to explain with a heavy heart, regretful that even though she would much rather be anywhere but her internship at the Alchemax Medical Center, duty always called. “You know any other time I’d be happy to help, but I’m just getting into my shift at the hospital—“
She didn’t have to explain. Bee was already too familiar with Loretta’s constantly packed schedule. “I know, I know.” They finished her sentence with a sigh of their own, shutting their eyes in order to minimize the feeling of failure. “It’s your degree, I know.” The comfort was more for themselves than their friend, mostly because this situation was untamed territory. “I just…I don’t know what to do, Etta.”
It wasn’t like Bee wasn’t familiar with men and relationships, or even the drunkenness that reeked from the man still hunched over feet away from them, but the concept of love this early on? Even for someone who was as much as a hopeless romantic as Bee, that idea seemed utterly absurd. “All you have to do is just ease his stomach, Bee.” Loretta instructed, listing off a laundry list of items to assist in Miguel’s nausea. “Get some chicken broth, heat it up on the stove, cut up some carrots and celery so that way he’ll feel—“
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.” They huffed in defense, interrupting their best friend’s sentence. “What do I do about him saying he loves me!”
“What is there to do?” Loretta immediately responded with a fed-up huff of her own. As much as she loved Bee, as much as she usually loved entertaining their constant ‘what-if’s’ about the men they found interest in, this situation wasn’t anything like the others. “You haven’t stopped raving about this dude since this morning, and now that he’s catching real feelings you’re skeptical?”
When she put it like that, she had a valid point. Bee had been raving about him all day to their ‘Top Secret’ group chat; going on and on about how handsome Miguel was, how he had picked them up like they weighed nothing, how sweet and kind he was compared to the other men they had interacted with at NYAPU. It was so much in fact, that Veronica, who was still scorned post-Kron, had to message back, ‘Okay, we get it, you got the better brother’.
The memory made Bee swallow. Were they complaining for no reason? “But we just met, Loretta!” They quickly defended into the phone, hellbent on making their friend see their point of view, no matter how ridiculous they may have sounded. “He barely even knows me! This can’t be—“
“Then let him know you, Bee.” Loretta finally snapped, cutting them off with a sharp attitude. Because in her eyes, if Miguel really was this handsome, if he really was this charming and dreamy-like, then nothing should’ve stopped them from taking that opportunity. “Stop looking for flags just so you can run.”
The blatant callout made Bee stop directly in their tracks, their eyes fluttering in complete shock. Run? They weren’t…“I’m not—“
“You are.” Once again, their best friend promptly stomped on whatever denial the beau tried to throw her way, refusing to let Bee brush off the reality of their actions. “You so are.”
The two paused for a moment, neither one saying anything before another hard sigh poured into the receiving line. “Look, I gotta go back to work, okay?” Loretta murmured softly, pausing again to think about what she wanted to say. “Just…Just look after him.” She asked. “You can’t fault him for catching feelings when you obviously feel the same. And make sure you grab that first aid kit in your closet. He’ll need it.”
Bee finally relented with a sigh, lowering their shoulders in defeat. Loretta was right, at least on paper Miguel was their dream guy. He was tall, handsome, kind, protective, and clearly he was loyal to a T. The only thing stopping them from fully diving in head first was... “But what if he’s like—“
“He won’t be like Alex.” Loretta quickly confirmed, there was more than enough evidence that this guy had been doing way more in the two days they had known each other than that piece of shit had done in two years. “Nobody can top that fucking dick.” God, she hated that man. Half of Bee’s insecurities stemmed from that idiot alone. “Fuck, I hope his stupid van got wrapped around a tree.”
“Okay Etta,” Bee began, trying to stifle the giggle slipping through their lips. “That’s not nice.”
“That nigga isn’t nice and he can die,” Their best friend quickly defended, smacking her lips with a grunt before she departed. “Alright friend, I’ll see you later. And make sure you take care of that man.”
“Yeah…” They began with a smile, nodding their head slowly. “Yeah I will…See you later.”
September 19th, 20XX. The Village at Alchemax University, Apartment 2901. 6:30PM.
After the embarrassing callout from Loretta, Bee reassigned their focus on what mattered most at the moment; finishing dinner, then attending to Miguel’s wounds. If help wasn’t going to come to their rescue, then a simple YouTube video and a ‘how-to-do-it-yourself’ would end up working just fine. Once they managed to get Miguel to sit still for a consecutive five minutes, of course. And the longer he stayed under the influence, the easier it was to pinpoint the exact kind of drunk he was—the type that was needy and stubborn, the type to be overly intimate and touchy.
“Bee!” Miguel’s voice drunkly boomed from the living room, his half naked body fully sprawled out on the couch’s pull out bed in a starfish position. The brown shirt that had been adorning his body was now spinning in a wash cycle, after Bee hung up the phone with Loretta and came back to find him crying by himself with throw-up on himself.
They had demanded he take it off so they could properly clean it, all while he still cried out for them. It didn’t fully stop until Bee had pulled back their coffee table and retrieved the couch’s hidden twin mattress, which was just barely enough to fill Miguels massive frame.
Something about being able to finally lay down, and not feel like the room was spinning, managed to make him calm down, enough for Bee to fully walk away and focus back on finishing both his chicken and veggie broth, and their own personal dinner.
That was, until he started yelling again. “Bee!”
Him confessing over and over again, Bee could handle—somewhat. But him screaming and yelling like he had lost his damn mind? “Miguel!” They had shouted from the stove, turning in his direction with an angry spatula wave. “I’m making dinner! Stop yelling like you ain’t got no goddamn sense!”
“I do-on’t!” Another crack of a whine hit their ears like a war cry, a demand of their attention and presence. After all, the pain throbbing against Miguel’s skull and stomach only went away when it was paired with Bee’s soft voice and touch. “Bee!”
The response he was hoping for didn’t come however, instead it was an irritated clank of Bee’s metal tongs hitting the porcelain counter, followed by their heavy stomps marching from the kitchen straight over to his body. But even through the fog of anger, the beau was still affected by the sight of his body taking up space on the mattress, his long legs hanging off of the sides while his arms had been extended up into the corners of the physical couch.
Miguel was handsome, that was a fact Bee had been no stranger to, but his body? Built like a Greek god. His neck was already so thick and strong, but that couldn’t compare to how wide and muscular his chest was. His tanned toned skin was blessed with a soft blanket of hair stretching from one pec to the next, the same hair that traveled down his sculpted abs and bellybutton. The cut of his V-line was as sharp as a knife, highlighting the small of his waist and hips as it led to—
Oh. Oh.
Bee froze in place as they stopped, staring directly at Miguels shorts, noting a large bump nestling on the meat of his thigh. They hadn’t even acknowledged that he turned his face to look at them, to admire their beauty from afar. Instead, they watched in real time as his body reacted to their presence, and more specifically how his dick actually twitched in his shorts.
And was he big. They always thought the saying of ‘if he has big feet, he has a big dick’ was a lie but, even standing away from Miguel, Bee could tell that he was packing. At the very least he was eight inches, which was way bigger than they had ever had. Could they even take that? Was it possible? Would it hurt? What would—
“C’mere.” The sudden bloom of Miguel’s voice forced Bee’s attention towards him, their gazes quickly connecting at his request. His pupil was blown wide, like an aphrodisiac shot had been pumped directly into his veins. “You…you promised me a kiss.”
Their eyes nearly popped out of their head. No. No way. There was no way Miguel was expecting Bee to not only kiss him, but to kiss him right after he threw up and got hard just from seeing them? “No!” Bee shrieked in horror, shaking their head back and forth in disdain. “What the—no, I am not kissing you when you are drunk!” Especially after he specifically told them that women—like Brittany—have tried to get him in this exact state in order to rape him. “Why would I do that to you?!”
“Because,” Miguel began to rasp out, slowly rising from his position to sit up. His hard on continued to thump in his shorts, but that didn’t stop him from continuing on with his speech. “You promised me.” Like a child, he repeated himself, adamant that now was the best time for him to check-in on the kiss he never got from the closet. From their initial meeting. “You asked if we could kiss, I said—“
“I remember what happened, Miguel.” Bee cut off his sentence, their hands dancing about in the air dramatically with each word. “You’re not listening to me. You. Are. Drunk.”
“And I,” He instantly replied, suddenly planting his feet down onto the carpet in order to stand. Miguel stared down at Bee like a predator locking onto his prey, determined to get the only thing he really had left. “Don’t,” He took a single step forward in Bee’s direction, watching as they matched his step but in the reverse. “Care. I don’t care anymore, Bee. You promised me a kiss.”
Bee could feel their heart slowly begin to race, yet they couldn’t tell if it was fear, or if it was arousal. “What are you doing?” They asked just as he took another step forward, matching their step back again. “I said I’m not taking advantage of you!”
“But you liked my body.” Miguel commented, slowly backing his lover in between the corner of their door and the wall leading to their kitchen. “You were staring at me.” He said quietly, recalling the tense moment from before when Bee couldn’t stop looking at his sculpted frame.
“You were looking at me like…you wanted me.” His voice was smooth, calm, but the droopyness of his eye was a tell tale sign that Miguel was nothing but. He was like a coiled spring ready to burst. “Do you want me?” The breathless question made the beauty before him stutter, their focus jerking from his eyes, to his chest, to his dick and back up again. “Do I scare you?” He suddenly inquired instead, dropping his head as if he was trying to seem smaller than them. “Do I look like the devil to you?”
His lover sat in shocked silence, not even uttering out a sound while Miguel leaned forward to press the crown of his skull right by the side of Bee’s already flustered face. “Tell me I don’t.” The heat of his breath tickled their ear like a silent seductive request, coaxing their body to shiver with anticipation. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me.”
Each exhale was some sort of spell, slowly luring them in a daze. That was, until Miguel felt two soft palms press against the muscle of his chest.
“Miguel…” Bee softly began, their fingers slightly trembling against the soft hair decorating his pecs. One single touch was enough to feel his heartbeat racing, beating in a steady ‘thump-thump-thump’ rhythm against their fingertips. And even with the signs, even with him chasing them— “I can’t. You can’t consent to this—“
In the middle of their sentence Miguel pulled back again, this time hovering his face directly in front of Bee’s. Up close, his injury seemed so much worse. His right eye was now a deep purple, the cuts had somewhat dried its heavy pulse of blood, but overall it still looked painful. “I consent.” But despite that, for the first time tonight, he actually spoke a clear, cohesive sentence. “I want this. I need this. I…” Bee said nothing as his focus dropped down to their trembling lip, eyeing the slick plumpness of it as if he was hungry. “I just…” His eye flickered back up again. “I just…want you. And I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”
What was happening? How was this all happening so fast? Bee questioned themselves over and over before deciding enough was enough, and firmly pushed Miguel backwards with a single shove. “No!” They shouted, taking a single shaky breath before they looked up into Miguel’s good eye with a frustrated huff. “You’re injured!”
Miguel scoffed with an attitude. An injury wasn’t going to get in the way of his kiss, even if he was rocking a bloody black eye. “I don’t care.”
“You’re drunk!”
“I just told you I consented.”
Bee frowned at his defense. Nothing they were throwing his way was working, what else could they say? “Well…well…well your breath stinks!” They suddenly called out, watching as Miguel froze in place for a solid second. “W-We can’t kiss if your breath stinks!”
Really? If it weren’t for the fact that he adored Bee to the moon and back, he might’ve actually snapped at them. But unluckily for him, this was still Bee and their home, so if they said he wouldn’t get their kiss until he brushed his teeth, they meant it. And knowing that fact made his body droop again in slight defeat, every delay on him finally fulfilling Bee’s promise was like a gut punch. The faster he could get this over with, the better. “Fine.” He grunted out in restrained irritation, finally pulling backwards to give Bee the space they wanted so bad. “But just you know, when I get back?” Miguel began with a sultry tone, resting all his weight on one leg as he stared down with a sole eyebrow raised. “No more running.”
September 19th, 20XX. The Village at Alchemax University, Apartment 2901. 7:05PM.
The living room was eerily quiet while Bee waited alone for their boyfriend to finish brushing his teeth, after they had actually shown him where the bathroom was, and maneuvered another one of his attempts to try and hug them. Again.
Truthfully, there was no issue with Miguel so touchy—if anything, they loved a man who was openly affectionate—it was just…In their mind, what if it was just the alcohol making him like this? What if none of this was actually genuine, and he was simply drunk and lonely? What if all he wanted was a good time with the ‘right’ person. Bee couldn’t help but to crouch over, rising their thumb up to their mouth to nibble anxiously on their nail. The image of his dick print was permanently burned in their brain, not to mention how they felt when the huskiness of his voice brushed against their ear. But this was wrong wasn’t it?
Feeling…so turned on when he was intoxicated? Wasn’t it wrong for them to try and kiss, or to possibly fool around?
Yes, Bee thought to themselves as they stood with their mind fully made up. Miguel was under the influence, so no matter what he said to them, they couldn’t agree to. It would be morally wrong, and then they wouldn’t be any better than that stupid bitch Brittany. Which, they would’ve rather died. That was, until they turned on their heel to see none other than Miguel himself, standing tall before them with the right side of his face magically bandaged. How he managed to find Bee’s first aid kit and bandage himself without finding a single shirt to fit his frame was astonishing. Or maybe he simply didn’t want to, given the obvious print still pulsing in his shorts, and the look he was currently throwing in Bee’s direction.
They didn’t even have time to question how he fixed himself up so quickly before he was moving in their direction, eager to feel their touch again. “Woah!” Bee suddenly shouted, raising both of their hands in defense. “Time out, time out!”
“No time out.” Miguel murmured softly, yet he didn’t try to move forward again. Was he pushing too far? Reading too far into things? Did Bee actually not want this? Had he risked everything for nothing? “Do you not want me?” He quietly followed up with another question, the sound of his voice beginning to slightly waver. “Did I do something wrong?”
Shit.
“No!” His lover panicked, this was going downhill so quickly. “Of course I want you,” Bee comforted, trying to speak as softly as they could to soothe the tears prickling at his eyes. But that didn’t stop Miguel from dragging his hands up into the crown of his skull, pulling at his roots like he was trying to rip his own hair out. “You haven’t done anything, Miguel.” They assured, watching him carefully. “You’re just…drunk, okay? You don’t even know what you’re saying right now.”
This time, Miguel actually let out a frustrated whine at their constant rejection. Did they want a written confession that he did indeed want this? Would that be enough for them to silence the constant doubt in their brain? “I told you, I consented.” He groaned in agony, this was fucking torture. “Fuck, I can’t take this anymore—“
“You don’t—“
It took only a second for Bee to speak before Miguel physically pounced on them, his long legs easily eating up the space in between the two within three calculated steps. His thick hands, once gripped at his head, reaches for theirs instead, ensuring to tilt their neck backwards in preparation for his descend. He admired the way Bee’s honeybrown eyes widened, watching an array of different emotions flash through their expression as he leaned in closer. Shock, fear, uncertainty, but beneath it all?
Longing. But it wasn’t just prevalent in their eyes but their body as well, especially when their back slowly slid down the wall behind them a a heavy pant left their chest. “Miguel..” Bee whispered out to him, fighting to keep their hands back against the plaster and off of the comfort of his body. “I…”
“Tell me to stop.” His breath swept against their lip in anticipation, slowly brushing the firmness of his strong nose against theirs. “Tell me to fuck-off in that accent of yours. Please.”
Fuck it.
Like a bullet shot through the air, Bee threw themselves onto him, smashing their lips together like they hadn’t seen him in years. Their arms threw around the back of his thick neck, eager to get as much of him into their system as possible. His lips tasted like leftover minty mouthwash, with the smallest hint of beer still clinging onto his tongue. The same tongue that eagerly slipped through his lips to plunge into Bee’s mouth, blissfully taking over the kiss while his hands moved from the back of their head to the small of their waist. “Miguel—“
Their boyfriend only allowed a breath to slip through the two before he silenced them with another needy plunge, only to feel felt their palms press on his chest again. This time however, he actually had the restraint to stop, slowly pulling away with a string of saliva connecting the two.
“Yeah?” His deep voice husked out into the dewy air, digging his fingers deeper into Bee’s smooth waist as they continued to arch back against the wall. Their skin felt like soft pillows no matter the area he was latching onto, and Miguel only wanted more. More skin to touch, to grope, to savor.
As did Bee. They couldn’t help but to swipe their tongue across their bottom lip, taking the connected line of saliva along with them while they stared into his soul. “You weren’t lying about not kissing anyone…” They playfully jabbed at his inexperience, before their hands pushed his head closer again. “Follow my lead…”
Divider Credit: @/pixopix, @/cafekitsune
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