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#beetlejuice fic
montys-mortuary · 7 months
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I FOUND IT I FOUND IT
ITS THE BEETLEJUICE SOUNDGASM AUDIO IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR.
TW: Dubious Consent/CNC, voyurism(?) graveyard, blowjob, PnV, degradation, rough sex, raised voice, angry tones
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somedaylazysomeday · 1 month
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A Deal with a Demon - Part Six
Beetlejuice was summoned. Since the summoner didn't want to pay his terms, you agree to step in on their behalf.
Demon!Beetlejuice x fem!witch!reader
Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.
Word Count: 3,900
Warnings: Language, sex as terms of payment, discussions of pegging, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, references to demons and demonic biology, references to magic and witchcraft, brief gender dysphoria.
Previous | Masterlist
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“Lock the door.”
By the time Beetlejuice had processed your instruction and all of its implications, you had almost gotten rid of your shirt. The demon scrambled to do what you had asked, locking the door to your office with an awestruck look on his face. 
As far as you were concerned, there was no getting around it, so you may as well get things moving between you. Beetlejuice’s deal had fallen through, but the realities of summoning a demon were that they had to be paid one way or another. And you found that you didn’t mind picking up the slack as much as you once had. 
Even in his hurry to get undressed for you, Beetlejuice couldn’t keep from talking. He never did anything quietly if he could help it.
“This is hot,” he chattered, stripping off his jacket. “I can’t believe you’re gonna let me fuck ya in your office…”
“I’m not going to let you fuck me,” you told him, watching with no small amount of pleasure as he froze, crestfallen. “I’m going to fuck you in my office.” 
A moment later, a filthy grin sprouted on his face. “That’s even hotter.”
You kicked away your pants, underwear still tangled in the fabric, and mentally congratulated yourself on having the foresight to sweep earlier in the week. Since you were in a hurry and still waiting for Beetlejuice, you dropped your hands and gave an experimental stroke over your mound.
Tingles rose in the wake of your touch and you fought back a shiver as you repeated the motion. This time, you gave your lips a little more attention. They were sensitive, but your body wasn’t fully paying attention yet. You had some work to do if you were going to fulfill Beetlejuice’s deal in the next few minutes. For all that you would never say so to him, he was well-endowed, and hooking up unprepared promised to be unpleasant. 
The lack of swelling in your lips made it easy to press your fingertip between them, pushing gently against the firm bead of your clit. The simple pressure sent tingles running through your body, but it was marred by the sensation of eyes on you. 
When you glanced up, Beetlejuice’s dark eyes were fixed on the place where your hand was settled between your own thighs. As if only just noticing that your fingers had stopped moving, his gaze moved slowly up your bare body until he was looking at your face. 
“Hottest.” 
The gravel in his voice made it sound like talking would be painful, but he would never let something so minor stop him from constantly vomiting his thoughts. Especially if they were dirty. 
You gave him a stern look. “Get naked now or stay dressed. I don’t have time for a striptease.” 
Beetlejuice’s face sharpened, a fierce amusement lighting his eyes. He complained, but he liked it when you ordered him around. Especially when you were a little bossy about it. You had seen the evidence of how much he enjoyed it. 
Actually, you could see it just then, too. 
When he walked over to you, it was with a little strut in his step, his hardening length bobbing obscenely as it led the way. “So, if you’re gonna fuck me, where’s your strap-on?” 
You thought about it, you really did. Sinful sold plenty of sex toys, and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t looked at and thought about trying some of the toys for yourself. And finding the right box in the stock room just outside your office would take a matter of moments…
But you sighed and shook your head. “No time. We’ll keep that in mind for the future.” 
“I’ll hold ya to that,” Beetlejuice warned, pointing a finger at you. 
As you eyed the chipped black polish on that finger’s nail, you frowned. “Could you feed off that, though? Don’t you have to be the one penetrating the other person?” 
“Penetrating,” Beetlejuice repeated with a snort, waggling his eyebrows at you. “And no. I’m a sex demon, not an incubus.” 
You frowned harder. “Which is a demon that feeds on sex…”
“No!” he lectured. “Incubi are- See, they just… Sex demons don’t gotta… The difference is that we are tryin’- Shut up, we’re not the same thing!” 
Since you hadn’t said a word during the entirety of Beetlejuice’s stammered explanation, you just held up your hands and laughed. “You got it. Totally different, my bad.” 
“See, you don’t even sound believable,” he muttered. You laughed harder… until he stepped so close you could smell the mossy earth scent of him. “Point is, I can feed on any of it. All of it. And if you want to fuck this delicious peach of mine, baby… Just say when.”
“Ugh,” you sputtered, pushing him back a step. “Never say that again.”
“Then don’t compare me to a damn incubus.”
“Deal,” you agreed. 
Beetlejuice’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, you wanna make a deal?” 
“Aren’t you already one in the hole?”
“I’ll have one in your-”
“Enough!” you entreated. “I know you’re the master of wordplay and innuendo. And no, I’m not interested in hearing jokes about either of those words. I really don’t have a lot of free time today. If we’re doing this, we have to do it now.” 
Beetlejuice grumbled, looking down at his now-limp cock. “Can’t say that the mentions of a time limit are doin’ it for me, babes.”
“Let me fix it, then,” you offered, sinking down in front of him.
“I accept,” Beetlejuice agreed, grabbing you under the arms and pushing you backward onto your own desk. You gaped at him, partially from surprise and partially from the force of the impact. He grinned from his place standing between your legs. “I always get hard when I hear those gorgeous little sounds ya make for me-”
You pulled a pen out from behind the small of your back and tossed it at him. “I’m hearing a lot of talk and very little- ahh!”
The noise that left you was only tangentially humanoid in nature. Beetlejuice had dropped to his knees and skipped past everything else he could have done, sealing his lips around your clit and applying devastating suction. 
It was too much. Deliciously so, but still, too much. You pushed at his head, trying to force him out from between your legs, but he just lessened the pressure slightly and sank two fingers into you. 
You shouted, the muscles in your abdomen tightening so intensely that your shoulder blades left the surface of the desk. You stared down at him from your new vantage point, not surprised to see that his eyes were fixed directly on your face. It also wasn’t a surprise when he waggled his eyebrows and gave a particularly lascivious lick from the bottom of your opening to the top of your slit. 
When Beetlejuice was back where he had started - focused intently on your clit with two fingers pumping into you - you sank your hands into his hair. Your first thought had been to push him away, but you found yourself holding him in place. The helpless convulsions of your pelvis left you riding his fingers, his lips following to keep that steady, maddening pressure exactly where you needed it.
The amorphous pleasure coalesced, binding together in a sign of things to come. Your orgasm shimmered like a mirror on the horizon - distant, but inching closer with every moment.
Until Beetlejuice withdrew his fingers and pulled away from you. You growled low in your throat, glaring up at him, but he seemed utterly unconcerned. He stood, proudly displaying the hard-on he had apparently gotten from taking you apart on your own desk. “Okay, I’m ready.” 
“Couldn’t have taken another two minutes…” you grumbled, struggling to sit up.
“Stay down, toots,” Beetlejuice told you, using a hand between your breasts to press you back down against the cool surface of the desk. “Lemme do the work this time.” 
“Thought you wanted me to fuck you?” 
“Like position has anything to do with that,” he said with a snort. “Save that energy for next time. We’ll get ya a nice, fat strap-on and you can rock my world. For now…” 
Beetlejuice pressed himself to the edge of the desk, planting his hips firmly between your parted thighs. Your hips jolted upward reflexively, and the demon chuckled as he lined himself up and pushed slowly into you. 
Torturously slowly.
His grip on your hips was the only thing that kept you from scooting down and forcing him further into you. Instead, you were pinned in place, fingers tightening on the edges of the desk as you tried to move anyway. When you found that you couldn’t move at all, you bared your teeth at him. “Move, Beej!” 
He pouted at you. “No. But here’s a little gift for bein’ so good and not sayin’ my name…”
His finger brushing against the swollen nub of your clit made you gasp, your head falling backward fast enough that it collided with the desk. The sound of it was loud in the room, but not as loud as the ancient curses you hissed at him. 
“Hey, watch the Babylonian,” Beetlejuice chided. “Some’a that shit sticks.”
When you didn’t listen, he leaned forward and kissed you. You bit him. 
Beetlejuice gasped into the kiss, but didn’t pull away. Instead, his hips thrust in a way that seemed involuntary. It also forced the entire length of him inside of you. Your core clamped down around him, squeezing and working to keep the intrusion buried as deeply inside of you as possible.
Your teeth parted at the feeling of it, and you were left with the iron tang of blood in your mouth as he pulled away. After licking your front teeth clean, you frowned at Beetlejuice. “Is your blood… spicy?”
He licked his swelling lip - as always, using far too much tongue. “Yeah. Demon. Anyway…”
Beetlejuice’s hands tightening around your hips was the only warning you received, then he was pounding into you with a fervor that bordered on desperation. You met him stroke for stroke, using your minuscule range of motion to participate. Your feet slipped from the desk, thighs landing heavy and splayed against the cool surface for a moment. Then Beetlejuice hit something raw and aching inside of you and your legs wrapped around his waist without any direction from your brain. 
“C’mon, babes,” he muttered, eyes bouncing between your face, your breasts, and the place where the two of you were joined. “A little more. I know you’ve got it in you…” 
You shook your head back and forth, the motion turning into a release of energy more than an actual refusal. After being kept on the precipice of orgasm fo so long, your body was struggling to let go. “Have you- Are you feeding?” 
“Have been the whole time,” he reassured, giving your thigh a soothing sort of pat. “Come. You know you wanna.” 
Well, you certainly didn’t need him to ask you twice. You used the way your legs were locked around his waist to pull him sharply deeper every time he dragged out of you. The slow withdrawal against the sudden collision of him spearing into you provided the perfect counterpoint, and you were on the edge in moments. 
“I’m-”
“I know, I feel you,” Beetlejuice gritted out. “Now or never, babes.”
Beetlejuice bucked against you, pushing himself deep. You could feel his length twitching and spasming as he spilled into you.  His face was slack with pleasure, his mouth relaxed, a bead of dark red blood trembling on the curve of his bottom lip. His eyes were heavy-lidded as they roamed your body with an expression of mingled satisfaction and possessiveness. 
It was a worrisome expression, honestly. And you would never, ever admit to him that it was what pushed you over the edge. 
The orgasm seemed to rush in from everywhere at the same time. You heard it in the room around you, a sound that had never existed in the world, but was soaking your brain in pleasure. It tingled up from your fingers and toes, spreading into every limb with sparkling weightlessness. It emanated in waves from your pussy, sending contractions of sheer euphoria through you with every pulse.
And you were left utterly slack in its wake. 
Lying naked and splayed across the surface of your desk wasn’t a particularly dignified experience, especially when Beetlejuice collapsed across you. When you looked past him, you could see the sunlight peeking around the edges of the door. You weren’t sure why the time of day should have an impact on how you felt about sleeping with a demon at your job working for said demon, but you were feeling noticeably odd about the whole thing. 
“Okay, up,” you said, tapping Beetlejuice on the forehead. “I have things to get done. Plus, I think I’m ruining some documents.” 
He obligingly sat up, pulling out of you at the same time. You slammed your legs together in an effort to hold the mess inside, and gingerly slipped off the desk. On your way to the small bathroom attached to your office, you peeked backward and grimaced at the way your activities had left the papers on your desk disorganized and crumpled.
Cleanup took more time than you wanted to dedicate to it, but you had learned from previous experiences with Beetlejuice and kept an emergency cleanup kit in the cabinet, tucked carefully behind the first aid kit. Among the items in the cleanup kit were wipes, a clean pair of underwear, some soothing lotion, and a good lip balm.
You used all of them and felt far more presentable when you stepped back into the office. It smelled strongly of sweat and sex and magic, so when you were dressed, you propped the door open and slid up the loading dock door.
“Okay, is your deal fulfilled now?” you asked, sitting back behind your desk and straightening the papers as best you could.
Beetlejuice looked lost for a moment, then guilty. “Ah… we never actually set up that you were payin’ the deal price…”
“Are you serious?” The demand was shrill, but you were feeling distinctly tender between your legs. The idea of jumping into another session was too much. “We absolutely did set that up!” 
“We did, I’m just messin’ with ya,” Beetlejuice told you with a grin. 
You squinted at him, feeling suddenly and deeply suspicious. There was a chance he was actually messing with you… but there was also a chance he had screwed up badly enough that he was lying to cover for himself. Either way, you decided to take him at his word. If he was lying, he could work out a solution for himself. “Yeah… Good one.”
Your attention had moved to the list in your hands for only a moment when Beetlejuice leaned over you. “What is that? Is it the same thing that’s gotcha so busy for the rest’a the day?”
“Not really,” you told him, turning the paper so he could see it. “I’m trying to build some inventory. And a few networks, but that’s much slower going.” 
“Inventory and networks for what?” he asked. 
With a sigh, you set the paper aside. You hadn’t been hiding this from Beetlejuice, per se… you just hadn’t known how to bring it up. It didn’t help that you never got more than a few minutes’ warning that he was going to be around. 
“I’m planning on opening the magical portion of the shop soon,” you explained. “Hopefully in the next few weeks. I want to build some inventory, but it’s tricky to work on it during the day. Less power, you know, and I have to worry that our employees are going to find out something they shouldn’t.”
Beetlejuice didn’t say anything for a while, and your stomach started to knot up with nerves. You were the day-to-day manager of Sinful, but he was still the owner. “Is there any interest?” 
“A lot, actually. We’ve had a few customers come in looking for it. They wanted to know when the products would be available for sale.” 
“How did they know about it?”
You gave a sheepish shrug. “I may have distributed a few samples at coven meetings.”
“And how did they take the idea of you ownin’ a store?” 
At that particular moment, you weren’t worried at all about how your coven felt, or even how the Council felt. You were more worried about the fact that you couldn’t tell how Beetlejuice felt. He wasn’t the most difficult person to read, and it was concerning that you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. 
“I couldn’t tell them I own Sinful,” you told him. “My name isn’t on the paperwork. Remember? We re-filed it and put down a fake name for you. I had to tell them the owner is a human whose mother-in-law was a witch.” 
Beetlejuice barked out a laugh and you relaxed slightly. “Couldn’t make it easy, huh?” 
You smiled. “I needed there to be a reason why he knew about magic, otherwise, the Council would get weird.”
“What’re you gonna do if they wanna meet the owner?” he asked, picking at his nail polish. “Hire somebody?” 
You sighed. “I don’t know. I thought about hiring someone, but I’m back in the same place. I’d need to find a human who knows about magic, but can’t use any of it himself. He’d also have to be new to the area to explain how the coven didn’t know about him before. Maybe I’ll just play it off like he’s always gone for a while, then say he got in an accident…”
“Or I could just play human for ya,” Beetlejuice pointed out. 
The expression on your face was too disbelieving. It had crossed the line into offensive, you could feel that much. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” he demanded, clearly insulted. “I’m a master of illusions. See?” 
It was hard not to see that Beetlejuice was now sporting a rather impressive pair of breasts, especially since he was naked. When he saw the trajectory of your gaze, he preened, pushing his boobs together to create a generous line of cleavage. “See?” 
“Your illusions are good, but I don’t think that will work to convince the Council that you’re a human man with no magic.” 
“I don’t do illusions,” Beetlejuice scoffed. “Well, I do. But anything on me is one-hundred percent real, babes. Besides, I think you’re overlooking how realistic my illusions can be.” 
His nod encouraged your glance downward. You breathed a sigh of relief when saw that your breasts were exactly the same size they had always been, but you froze when your eyes moved a bit further down your body. There was a distinct bulge at your crotch, too large to be anything but…
“Maybe you should warn someone when you’re planning to give them a penis,” you told him, your casual tone hiding the way your pulse had inexplicably started to pound. 
“Okay, fair enough,” he admitted. The bulge disappeared. “But you see my point.”
“What I haven’t seen is your human impression.” You crossed your arms. “If this is it, I’ll have to hire someone. You can pass with normal humans, but witches will immediately know what you are.”
Beetlejuice nodded, a determined look on his face. You watched as he transformed. His jawline rounded, his chin losing the sharpness of its point. The angles of his face grew less unnatural and you watched the subtle points of his teeth disappear between his parted lips. His hair even flattened, losing some of the dramatic volume that made it so unique. 
The rest of the changes that happened were far more difficult to explain. Beetlejuice’s posture improved, but he seemed to get smaller His whole aura changed, going from something wicked and clever to a type of mild-mannered humor. 
When Beetlejuice opened his eyes, they were brown without a single hint of red. The gleeful look of chaos was missing from them, as was the sense that he was somehow harmlessly cruel. He had even dressed himself normally, and looked very average in a pair of dark jeans and a green tee shirt.
“What do you think?” 
The unaccented voice made you deeply uncomfortable, but you still nodded. “Looks believable. Hang on.” 
You got closer and closer, waiting to pick up some hint of magic or demonic energy, but there was nothing. When you were standing close enough to feel his body heat, you caught a faint trace of it, but it could easily be explained away by the potions, charms, and spells you intended to have on the premises. 
“It’s really good,” you eventually admitted. “Even the little bit of magic I sense from you could just be from the other magic in the store. I think the coven will buy it. I think even the Council would buy it. I don’t want to test that, though. Still, good job.”
“Thank you,” he said, nodding slightly. “I worked very hard on it.” 
His voice wasn’t bland or strangely plain, but it lacked of all of the inflection that made him Beetlejuice. You shook your head sharply. “Okay, you’ve proven your point. Stop it and go back to being yourself. This is just weird.” 
He glanced over at you, and you were almost relieved to see a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I need to practice. If I need to play human, I’ll have to make it believable.”
“Ugh,” you said with a shudder. You went to your desk, eager to get away from the uncanny Beetlejuice.
He followed you. “Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it? We needed this rain. Do you have any coffee? I’m not human until I have a cup. I was mowing the lawn yesterday and I’m still worn out. I might need to take a nap later, but then it’ll be hard to sleep tonight.” 
You fought to keep a straight face, giving him a severe look. “Are you done?” 
Beetlejuice paused, considering for a moment. “Taxes.”
For some reason you couldn’t explain, that broke you. You laughter made Beetlejuice laugh, and he let the human disguise slip away. 
“Okay, even though it devolved into Suburban Dad at the end, I think that’s a pretty believable human impression.” You studied the sheet of inventory you had built up so far. “What do you think about opening the attic for specialty items in a few weeks?” 
Beetlejuice shrugged. “Up to you, babes. You’re the manager. I’m just along for the ride and to play meat puppet every now and then.”
“Two weeks it is,” you decided. “And I’ll work on figuring out a spell that can narrow down those summonings for you.” 
“Ya mean it?” Beetlejuice asked excitedly. “That would be great! It would really save me a lotta time.” 
“I can’t make any promises about when it will be ready,” you warned. “Or any guarantees that it’ll work when it’s done. Don’t blame me if it goes wrong.” 
Beetlejuice chuckled. “Sounds like someone’s gonna start writin’ demonic contracts. Deal, babes. Just lemme know when you’re done.”
And then he disappeared, leaving a haze of smoke and a faintly spicy smell in the air of the office. You shook your head and went back to planning, jotting a few notes and ideas about the theoretical spell into the margin of your page.
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Author's Note - As much as I hate to say it: despite my ever-increasing wip pile, I'm probably not done with these two. I'm not sure when I'll get around to writing more for them, but I'll make sure to link it here. Alternately, you can find me on AO3 under username InkSplots.
Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs mean the world!
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beej-juicy · 1 year
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Beetlejuice x you fluff. Brief. Inspired by the end of the Broadway run.
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Quiet gasps alert Beetlejuice that he's not alone.
The house is otherwise silent now; all the ruckus from earlier having ended after the group cleaned up together. So humbling, sure, sure. Lydia and her family all together for a come-to-Jesus moment.
But now everyone was asleep or in the attic. Er - so he thought.
And maybe they hadn't realized that the door was left slightly ajar, green light barely peeking through the crack in the wall.
Maybe Beetlejuice hadn't been ready to go just yet, despite the dramatic exit.
Then there was you. You'd been a friend to Lydia and had been around for the whole crazy thing; scaring the girlscout, playing Life or Death. He'd had quite a good amount of fun with you, but it didn't feel like enough time.
It'd be a surprise to everyone, then, that you are currently on the couch crying. Alone. After the little dance party and Beetlejuice's "exit."
...why, he wonders.
He can't help but glance between the crack in the door, debating about making his presence known. He hadn't decided what he was going to do - jump back into the Netherworld or hang out here for a bit.
His body moves before he's really thinking and he makes his way over to you.
"Y/N....you alright?"
The gasp you make startles both of you and he's tripping over the rug, falling flat on his back, sprawled out and flustered.
"BJ!?"
He's convinced you're going to yell at him, alert the family that his shenanigans aren't, in fact, over; let them know he fooled them - again.
Only...you don't. You pull him up, embrace him, a small sob leaving your lips.
"Heyyy..." He pats your back, unsure how to act. "It's...fine? Things are...fine. Right?"
"You came back!" It's glee that he hears in your voice and although he can't feel anymore (the whole being dead thing) he's...touched?
He smirks. "Never left."
💚
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monsterbeetlebug · 1 year
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Beetlejuice fanfic
Tw: Sex, religious imagery, dirty talk, coarse language.
Like a prayer
On a chilly evening as the sun sets in the horizon, a priest walks through the graveyard. He takes his time admiring all the graves, flowers and candles people have lit up for their late loved ones.
As he makes his way into the graveyard he noticed a gravestone he hadn't seen before. Approaching the gravestone he studies it closer. It's a tall, worn and grey, almost blue looking. Three skeleton looking figures at the top points down to the name written. It says "here lies Betelgeuse" in big red letters with an arrow pointing further down. With a low voice the priest talks to himself.
"Hmm, I've never seen this grave before"
It certainly doesn't look new to him, and he would have remembered such a special gravestone.
"Who is Bet.. Beetlejuice?"
The priest scratches his head as he tries to pronounce the name. He hasn't seen or heard the name before.
"Beetlejuice.." He whispers.
He doesn't know anyone with that name. He would have remembered such a different name. As he turned to face the church and walk back he thought maybe the young nun might have an idea.
"Beetlejuice.. Maybe Y/n knows something about this grave"
Just a the priest started walking he heard a low rumbling sound from ground. The earth started to fall in on it's own in front of the stone, forming a big hole in the ground. Smoke started pouring out and a low menacing chuckle could be heard echoing. The priest watches in shock as a man swiftly flies up and lands infront of him. He stumbles backwards and trips. He's to stunned to even mutter a word. Staring at the man looming above him.
"Cat got yer tounge faaather?" A gruff voice draws out. The man from the grave grins down at the priest.
"Thanks for letting me out, started to get a bit boring in there ya'now."
The man chuckles and pulls the priest up from the ground by his hair. The priest gulps. Getting a proper look at the man he feels a chill down his spine. He's pale with big dark circles around his eyes. A 5 O'clock shadow. Moss and mold patches growing here and there. Static hair with a dusty green colour. An old worn suit with vertical black and white stripes. Taking a step back the priest manages to stutter a question.
"Wh..who are you, what.. are you..?"
The man snorts at him with a smirk.
"Never seen a dead guy? Hah! I'm a ghost. The ghost! The ghost with the most to be precise. And the name is the one you just called out"
He poked the priest in his forehead. The priest loses the colour in his face and takes hold of the rosary he has around his wrist. He's terrified and confused.
"Your name is B..beetlejuice..?"
Beetlejuice rolls his eyes and shoves his hands in his pockets.
"Sky daddy won't help you here, but why don't you meet some friends of mine instead huh?"
Beetlejuice walks up to the priest and stands next to him. He grabs his neck and shoves him forward to the hole. The priest stumble forward gasping at the sudden shove. With a kick to the back the priest falls into the hole while Beetlejuice laughs in the background. Hearing a thump from the hole Beetlejuice grins and leans on one knee and yells into the hole.
"Greet the wroms from me wontcha father!?"
The priest can't even shout for help before he's covered in dirt, stones and grime. With his hands in his pockets and a big grin on his face Beetlejuice walks towards the church satisfied to finally be free again.
Inside the church you were preparing for the next days gathering. Tidying and setting everything up. Getting new candles for the altars and putting out sitting cushions for the people. Feeling satisfied with your work you walk up to the small staircase leading up to the main altar. You look up at the big golden cross with a carved sculpture of Jesus crucified on it. You softly kneel down on the lowest step.
"Oh, why do I feel like this. I'm a nun for christ sake."
You quickly put a hand to your mouth and look up at the cross in a small shock.
"Sorry Jesus" You whisper.
You weren't the most traditional nun, but liked to keep some of the religion and the respect because of the community in town. It was always so welcoming and warm for everyone, no matter who they were.
You even had some small tattoos and a couple piercings. Just small crosses on some fingers and thorned vines around your wrist and ankles.A couple piercings in your ears, one in your tounge and in both nipples. Even while wearing your nun attire you still wore fishnets and beautiful lingerie underneath. It made you feel so pretty.
But even for a nun who isn't so strick and doesn't believe in the traditional way, you couldn't help but feel dirty because of your thoughts. As you knelt there on the stairs you started to think again. Your thoughts running wild. You shook your head and wanted the dirty thoughts out. This wasn't the time and place for that. You couldn't keep thinking like that in church all the time.
When you heard a door open and shut you jumped a little. You didn't think that the priest would be back inside already. You stod up and turned around. You looked out towards all the benches. Looking for him. It was empty. Maybe he didn't come in? That was weird. You swore that you just heard him come in.
Just as Beetlejuice had walked in he saw a nun on the stairs in the middle of the church. He hid himself from her vision and observed her. Watching. Analysing. She's looking for the priest. He grins to himself. Watching her with a stern look. Perfect.
"Hm. Weird, maybe he forgot something?" You say to yourself. Then you get a weird feeling. Like you are being watched by someone. But.. you're alone.
You shrug and walk over to the confession both. You mark the side of the person that confesses as occupied. You sit down inside and wait for the priest to come back. You fiddle with the hem of your veil as you wait.
Hearing footsteps you breath out, gathering your thoughts a little. The door on the other side of the both opens and close. You hear the priest sit down. He clears his throat before he speaks.
"What bothers you on this fine evening sister?"
He sounded more coarse than usual. Maybe the cold breeze outside made his throat a bit sore? You sighed and looked down at your shoes.
"Oh, forgive me father for I have sinned. I keep having these awful dirty thoughts during gathering and while in church."
You wait for an answer. You really needed to get it of your chest and confine in someone you trust. You perk up when you hear him answer.
"What kind of dirty thoughts are bothering you?"
Beetlejuice smirks as he answers. Wanting to find out how he can take advantage of your confession. You sound like an angel. Look like an angel. He bets you feel and taste like heaven.
"I.. It's.. It's a bit embarrassing. I keep thinking about touching myself or to be touched by someone. I get this feeling. This need of wanting someone to want me. But it feels so wrong to have those thoughts and feelings in church. I don't know what to do anymore.."
You sink down a bit in your seat. Toes pointing towards each other. You squeeze your thighs together. Still having thoughts and can't stop them. Not sure what answer to expect. You feel so filthy sitting there. Having confessed how dirty your mind is inside. You jumped up when you heard him shuffle a bit and started to answer.
"Well, in that case.."
He paused.
Why did he stop?
It's silent.
You only hear your own breath.
Your heart rate quickens.
Then he speaks out with a slight chuckle to his voice. Sounding more coarse than before.
"Then why didn't you just say Sorry Daddy I've been a naughty girl?"
Your eyes are wide in shock. A slight blush to your cheeks. Did you hear that right? A priest couldn't possibly be saying something like that. Could he?
"Father, how can you say something like that?" You question.
You look at the wall separating the sides of the booth. Waiting you start to figet with the skirt of your attire. You feel anxious. Still, there is a weirdly good feeling about the sentence you questioned.
Click.
A quiet inhale.
The smell of smoke.
What? The priest doesn't smoke.
You are about to stand up, but stay put when the door opens.
You look up.
A strange looking man.
The cigarette between his lips makes a soft orange glow to his face. The smoke slithers up around his face. He eyes you up and down. Taking in every detail.You push yourself into the backwall trying to get further away. Wanting to hide away from his gaze.
He chuckles. He takes the cigarette with one hand and leans into the doorframe. Blowing a circle of smoke towards you. Beetlejuice has placed himself in a perfect position, traping you inside the booth. He's thinking. Considering what to do next. Putting the cigarette back between his lips he smirks. He breaths smoke out through his nostrils. Giving him a devilish and impressive look. You shake your head. You didn't want to think of him that way. As you steady your head again you feel a hand lift you chin up making you look at the man. He grins. You slap his hand away and move your head, but you can't even try to hide the way you blush. He has already noticed it.
"Want me as yer personal Jesus and give you the body of Christ?" He asks in a rough voice while grabbing his junk with his hand.
You try to look away. Feeling so embarrassed and not wanting your thoughts to take over. You clench the rosary hanging around your neck. Feeling a warmth growing. Your heart beating faster. Beetlejuice grabs your chin again and leans down. His face mere centimetres away from yours. You can smell and feel his smokey breath.
"Kneel. Like it's a prayer and I'll help you with those thoughts of yours."
He looks at you with a sly grin. As he leans up again he spits the cigarette out, but it disappeares in thin air as it lands. Gulping you kneel down infront of him. You don't have a choice. You look down at your thighs. Waiting.
Zip.
He opened his flyer.
Your eyes widen. Did he really want you to..? But you have never done anything like that,  not even to yourself. You didn't know how.
".. I.. Don't know how.." You muttered without lifting your head.
"Heh, then you'll learn how. Lift your head and open up."
Slowly turning your head up you see his cock. You get anxious about even fitting it in your mouth at all. It's a bit longer than avarage and got some decent girth to it. You hesitate to open your mouth, but comply out of fear of something worse.
"Now you get to suck on it like it's your favourite lollipop." Beetlejuice grins at the sight beneath him.
Placing your lips around the head of his cock you lightly suck on it. Feeling his cock twitch you jump a little. You hear him chuckle. As you continue you slowly take in more of his length. You start to set a pace you're comfortable with. He pushes the vail of your head and puts a hand in your hair. He groans softly. Burying his fingers in your hair as he leans his head backwards.
You start to feel a tingle between your legs. It feels.. good? Sucking his dick you feel yourself get gradually wet. Did you enjoy this? You felt so conflicted. So good, but so bad at the same time. He started to push your head faster, forcing you to pick up the pace. Your jaw becoming tired. Your eyes starting to tear up. Feeling saliva build up and drip out of your mouth. It felt so weirdly good. Your close your eyes and melt into the motion of sucking him of. Suddenly he pulls himself out with a pop. You breathe heavily. Opening your eyes again you see him jerk his cock.
"Here's some holy water for ya.. " Beetlejuice groans out as he comes on your face.
You quickly close your eyes and feel the warm trickling of cum landing all over your face.
"What a pretty mess. " He says with admiration in his voice. His voice sounded softer.
He pulls you up by your arm. You can feel him use the skirt of your attire to dry off your face. As you open your eyes you got a short glimpse of him looking so gentle. He looked so..charming. You couldn't believe that such a man could actually look handsome.
"What? Never seen a dead guy facefuck and cum on a nuns face before?" He spits out with a grin.
Your expression change. Shocked at what he just said.
Dead!?
Is he a fucking ghost?
Did you just suck off a ghost?
Feeling cold you take a step back. Not sure how to process the information you just got. But before you get as much as a word out he rips your attire open.Feeling the air on your body you try desperately to cover up. Your attire is completely torn. It's hopeless. He snorts at your try.
Slowly he looks you up and down. He takes in all the new details that had revealed themselves. You wore beautiful black lingerie. Fishnet stockings. Your rosary dangling between your breasts. The subtle shape the nipplepiercings gives out in the brah. Your tattoos. He never thought a nun could do that.
But you were different.
He liked it.
You look away, not wanting the attention. Suddenly Beetlejuice pikcs you up and puts you over his shoulder.Surprised by the act you try to wiggle and get down. You want to run. He slaps your ass to warn you. You make a sharp inhale at the sudden pain. But it didn't hurt as bad as you thought it would. You give up and just hang there with your arms crossed.You didn't understand where he was going. When you start to look around you notice how different things looks.The light from outside is dark red.  There's a ton of candles everywhere that you haven't put out. Not to mention lit any of them. You feel like the church itself has become deranged and darker somehow. Only lit up by the flickering glow of candles. Weird.
As you're put down again you recognise where you ended up. The main altar in front of the big cross. He sat you down on the altar. Shit. He's looming over you with a hungry look. Licking his lips as he puts his hand on each of your thighs. He maintains eyes contact as he moves. You quickly squeeze your tights together. A bit scared.
"Aw come on now. Spread your legs and show me the gate to heaven baby." He gives you a softer and more seductive smirk than before.
He leans in closer to your face. Your eyes betrays you as they give a quick look at his lips. You blush again at the thought of his lips. Catching the glimpse you got of his lips he puts a hand softly behind your head. He connects your lips in a surprisingly passionate kiss. You can't help but melt into it and close your eyes. He pushes his tounge into your mouth. Exploring every part of it. He tastes like earth. It feels like nothing you've felt before. You breathe heavily as you part your lips, your eyes fluttering open. He gently tries to push your thighs apart. You allow him but feel embarrassed to spread your legs this way. He slides a hand up your thigh until he reaches your panties. He gently rubs his thumb against you. He can feel how wet you actually are through your panties. Starting to pull them off you stop him. Placing your hand on his.
"I'm.." You can't finish the sentence.
Beetlejuice looks at you. He knows.
"I know you're a virgin." A soft and understanding voice. You didn't expect him to actually be a bit comforting. Or to even care. You look into his eyes and give him a soft nod.
"I'll start gentle. I promise."
He grins slightly. You felt a tingling sensation and butterflies in your belly from his words. He cups you cheek and gives you a soft kiss.After gently pulling your panties of he slides his thumb through your slick folds. He smirks at the view and feeling. Watching your reactions. You hold back a moan. Your eyes closed so you wouldn't feel so embarrassed. You feel him lean in next you your ear. His low gravely whisper making your back arch slightly.
"I'm gonna show ya why I'm known as the ghost with the most"
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amateurmagic · 1 year
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Beetlejuice headcanon/mini fic that just popped into my head. I’ve heard some criticism that The Ghost with the Most leaves for the Netherworld at the end of the show, even after he’s made amends with everyone and even when Juno is no longer an issue. Now I love a good found family trope as much as the next person (my AO3 history will agree lol) but what if he went into the Netherworld to find Lydia’s mother?
As a disclaimer, I’ve never seen the Tim Burton film or any of the cartoon or comics, so idk if it’s elaborated somewhere else. But if Juno is gone and therefore the regulations lifted from the entryways, what’s to stop ghosts from leaving the Netherworld?
So some amount of months to years pass and Lydia and the Deetzlands have all adjusted to their strange and unusual family dynamic. Lydia enters the living room, maybe on the way to the kitchen for a homework snack, and stops in her tracks, notebooks and pens clattering to the floor as she registers two familiar figures standing in the middle of the room. BJ launches into some monologue about how arduous it was searching through the vastness of the Netherworld and how many Sandworms he had to fend off in order to bring Emily back to the portal and that Miss Argentina sends her regards, but Lydia can’t bring herself to make a sound, her eyes still stuck on the translucent, but intensely familiar form of her mother. Eventually another grownup (my brain imagines Charles, bc obvi) enters the room to investigate the sound of things being dropped and respond in a similar manner to Lydia, attention captured by the sudden reappearance of Beetlejuice and his new ghostly companion.
Lydia eventually managed to break the silence with a shaky and disbelieving “…Mom?”
Emily smiles in response, her arms opening in an invitation. Her touch is now cool, like mist, and she doesn’t smell the same anymore due to her status of deceased, but Lydia is simply glad that she doesn’t phase through her like she feared she would.
Sometime during his journeys in the Netherworld, Beetlejuice has learned the power and value of silence, settling to lean back against the banister of the stairs with the other assembled adults, content to let this reunion play out without him. Eventually, he finds himself being dragged forward into a hug by a joyfully tearful Lydia, her dark eyeliner now running down her face.
“Welcome home,” are the only words she can say.
A/N: maybe one day I’ll expand on this more and write an actual fic, but, for now, this is the best I’ve got
Also, barring the whole green card thing, Lydia and BJ are strictly friends/chaotic family here
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the-silly-station · 10 months
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M'KAY SO!
after getting homework (a btj fic) bestowed upon me, I have decided to make a 'thoughts and feelings' post about the fanfic I've read, and not because I want an imaginary gold star teehee.
I'm not going through chapter by chapter because I'd be here too long and I really really don't wanna write much. So I'm only going to talk about what I've enjoyed or what stood out or what impacted me from the chapters I picked out fo' today
Uhhh spoilers obviously, so if you don't want spoilers then uhhh…sorry
CW: talks of SA, drug usage, abuse of many forms, and more
Read these warnings and be wary stranger.
ALRIGHT LET'S GET STARTED!!
@maddcelestial @outer-andromeda
Chapter 1: IMMEDIATELY get sent into conflict, had no idea who these freaks were (didn't read the summary, I can't read💚), disaster ensues, (I like characters who clearly have a lot going on with them especially Beetlejuice here). Nothing to really note here, it's only chapter 1. I do like Veta though.
Chapter 6: Idiot losers sleep in an alleyway!! Wahooo!!All of them are stubborn except Veda. Zeta HATES Beetlejuice in this moment, and Beetlejuice is uhm…struggling to exist in a fleshy mortal body. I really like how the writing let's you know and lets you feel that beej is NOT having a good time. Being scared of cars driving by, (lol, loser) the sounds all around him, and he's covered in blood. Still flabbergasted oh how their asses didn't get called on by the police (classic NYC moment). I liked this chapter 👍.
Chapter 9: I also really like this chapter a lot. (I also love watching my favorite characters SUFFER) Beetlejuice has a panic attack because of his lack of stripes to comfort him, and a itty-bitty child laughs at him and that seems to set him off spiraling. Because if he can't make a little kid scared outta their minds then what the fuck is the point? So our pathetic sopping wet stink is having a moment in the bathrooms, while Veda buys him a hoodie with stripes and Zeta still hates him but follows along begrudgingly. They end up giving beej the hoodie and he feels a little bit better. Again, I like this chapter a lot
Chapter 10: McDonald's trip hooray!! Zeta and Beej fight again, what else is new. Veda is very much enjoying herself in a park, a very cute scene.( But I do have to take off 1 point because of the beatles reference 😔 /j /j /j)
Chapters 11-14: Well that was uncomfortable. This one really hit close to home sadly.But despite this I really really like these chapters, they were executed very well. Especially seeing Beej basically relapse and go through all the shit from his past experiences, I felt bad for him.
Chapter 20: Beetlejuice finally feels alright enough to use his loser real name. And is thinking of a plan to rescue his girls because he dipped while having a complete meltdown, and left them alone for a couple of months. Lawrence gets some 'outside help' find himself an apartment and to make the place suitable (somewhat) for him and the girls. Watching Lawrence trying to improve is uh…something else
Chapter 21: Jules is cool 🙂
Chapter 23: …k…kitty..
Chapter 26: Same as chapters 11-14, hit close to home (minus the panic attack, never had one don't want to, it doesn’t seem like a fun time) Poor girl..And Lawrence helps for like…real this time!! One of my favorite chapters if we're being honest
Chapter 31: ominous…wonder what's gonna happen next..
ALRIGHT IM DONE!!
Fuck this took forever, felt like I was back in school…forced to write essays and shit…except I totally did this with my own free will, so I wasn't really forced now was I?
Uhm uhh, I don't really have much to say? If you liked these god awful "retellings" then go check the story out yourself if you'd like
AHEEM AHEEEEM!!
My shiny new star please
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ROADTRIP.
Wrong Turn? I couldn't CAR less! (do you get it, adam? it's a joke. hey. hey adam. did you get the joke, adam?) - Chapter 1 - moonbunnyblues - Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King [Archive of Our Own]
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Wanna Be Yours
read on AO3
~1k, Beetlejuice/Lydia Deetz, E-rating, Post-Canon AU
Summary: For the first time ever on Mischief Night, Beetlejuice stays in. While with Lydia, of course.
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Dream A Little Dream [With] Me
Warnings: Slightly graphic (but unrealistic) description of injury. Choking.
"What exactly is your game here, Lawrence?"
The world bends and warps around her words, like a thin film being distorted by heat. The two demons sit far apart, separated by a matte black desk and a gorge cut straight into the mantle. The smell is unbearable, cloying sweetness dancing with the tar bubbling up from the wound in the floor. 
The two demons sit far apart, disconnected. But the world bends and warps around her words, and the younger demon cannot resist the pull. 
He flinches. Tar coats the back of his throat, and marigold blooms in his lungs. 
He should not need to breathe. 
He should be safe. 
He should be far enough away. 
But he is not. He is not. He is not.
He flinches, and he chokes, petals dripping jet black from his mouth and crystalizing into obsidian dewdrops, scattering around him like the shed tears of a monster, unfathomably large, and yet, heartbreakingly small. 
"You can't even say?" The older demon scoffs, acidic smoke billowing from that canyon between them. Clinging, clinging, clinging, staining his suit, his body, his filthy, rotting bones. His claws break skin, and the same smoke echoes forth. "...You don't know, do you?" 
Her words are candy sweet, drenched in pity. She shakes her head, stands from her chair. Remains unfazed as her desk is swallowed by that growing canyon, bubbling with viscous hate, hungrier by the second. 
Remains unfazed when it begins to swallow her, too. 
"You don't know because you've already shown your hand," she continues softly, sweetly, sinking slowly into the molten tar. Her hand reaches out, caresses his face, gentle as anything. "And you're terrified that they'll realize it's all you've got."
For the first time, the younger demon raises his heavy head. His lips, stained black like ichor, twitch around a weak snarl. Smoke slips between his sharp teeth. 
His claws dig into the older demon's wrist, sinking butter-smooth through flesh and sinew. 
She does not flinch.
"They–" 
He coughs, voice hoarser than hell. Tar-coated marigolds splatter on the older demon's deathly pale face. 
She does not flinch. 
"They like playing with me," he grits out, gnashing far too many teeth. The older demon is nearly submerged, now, arm straining to remain in his tearing, iron grip. "T-They don't care what cards I got."
She smiles. It is achingly, painfully sweet. A terrible impression of a doting mother, pasted onto the face of a demon who never wanted to be. 
His claws snap through her radius first, and then her ulna. Her hand falls limp and lifeless in his lap, laid to rest in a pile of river-smooth obsidian and marigolds, like something precious, something holy. 
Blasphemous.
She does not flinch.
"But you won't be fun forever," she croons, tilting her head to the sky. The tar pulls at her taut skin, peeling her eyes open and wide. "And when they get bored of playing, Lawrence, who will you run back to?"
The younger demon watches emptily, eyes dulled and blackened, as the older is consumed in her entirety. The hand in his lap, once a mockery of the divine, rots away into a foul-smelling puddle of ichor. 
The demon, still sat in his chair, surrounded by obsidian tears and once-beautiful flowers, drops his head once more. 
Quiet submission. 
Exhausted acceptance. 
A neck bared to the waiting blade of the guillotine. 
"...You."
Lydia Deetz gasps awake.
#beetlejuice#beetlejuice the musical#bjtmtmtm#beetlejuice fic#fic#hi. im not normal about him okay ? smile#this felt too small and prosey to post on my ao3. but i did want to share it#something something the symbolism of it all.#imagine with me for a second. imagine you are a demon. you were born dead to a mother who never wanted you#raised by a woman who refused to give you the simple kindness of emotional + negligent distance#cruelty came easier. she couldn't in good conscious get rid of you. (some twisted part of her loves you)#and you are raised by her for centuries. you are kept by her for centuries.#you are banished by her for centuries#you were taught all thr wrong lessons. you were taught that you would never be loved. you were taught#to beg for scraps of attention#if you are that being. that DEMON . something many see as inherently bad#and you find a family that - though reluctantly at first for some - comes to care for you#love you. *see* you.#would you not be afraid? would you not wait for the other shoe to drop?#would you not dream of your mother and the suffocating pit between the two of you#one born of hatred and love and apathy and desperation. and would you not hear her voice your fears?#would you not grieve for an end you anticipate like thunder rolling after a lightning strike?#would you not ache? would you not cry?#would you not feel so much - so overwhelmingly much - that the spiritually intuned little goth girl you see as a sister#might pick up on it?#anyway. enjoy.
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Chapter 47 of Catch 22 is up.  There’s a special treat in this one for my readers.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850085/chapters/107574873
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autisticlancemcclain · 5 months
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fic rec friday 47
hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.
Damnit, Pidge by spirkylurkey
Pidge has some top-secret-classified-don't-tell-Keith-info that she accidentally lets slip to, you guessed it, Keith. Lance is an embarrassed mess. Keith isn't faring much better, to be honest.
this one made me LAUGH the way that this all pidge's fault and she's literally like. well. you shouldn't be so gay then. and she's right!! they're so dumb i love them
2. Operation: Faking It by @writeonclara
“What the hell, guys?” Pidge squawked, wrestling away from Matt. “Why are you pretending to be a couple?” Or: Matt and Lance pretend to be a couple because Shiro and Keith are clueless as hell.
do you guys remember shatt?? i remember shatt. adashi will always have my heart but shatt will literally always be funny bc ofc thats ur fic name. anyways. this fic is mostly klance but the entire concept is just so ridiculously goofy that u have to laugh. do you like lance and matt? do you like fake relationship to real relationship? do you like inverted tropes? do you like pining? do you like comedic jealousy? then this fic is well and truly for you because it has all that and more
3. all's well that ends well to end up with you by @coruscatingcatastrophe
Keith's jacket gets ruined, so Lance decides to be a good Samaritan and give him his. This is the beginning of the end.
megan's fic literally make me want to eat cement i'm so serious. i've read and been obsessed with TONS of her stuff but this one???? this fucking one???? oh god the slowburn kills me. the blossoming realisation that oh god we've been dating this whole time huh. the CHIVALRY...............a romance novel in the truest of senses and i am going to fry
4. as long as it won't separate you from me (i'll be fine) by @coruscatingcatastrophe
A little intrigued—not that she’d ever admit it—Pidge begins to climb the stairs. But before she even reaches halfway, the door—slams shut. All on its own, or so it seems. Pidge pauses, brows creasing in confusion, as she turns to look down at her dog. “Did you see that?” she asks. Peculiarly, she notes that Bae Bae’s fur is bristled, and he growls at the door before barking twice. That’s weird. Bae Bae never growls. Turning back to the door, Pidge feels unsettled, but she tells herself not to jump to ridiculous conclusions. There’s a logical explanation for everything. Maybe there was a gust of wind from the air conditioner, or the doorframe isn’t level. Whatever it is, she’s going to figure it out. - Or, a Beetlejuice au (kind of). Pidge isn't a fan of her new house, Lance and Keith are the ghosts haunting her attic, and together they hatch a plot to convince Shiro and Adam to skedaddle out of the house. There may be demon summoning involved. But seriously, Adam. Getting your hair set on fire really isn't that bad.
HAPPY (late) HALLOWEEN!!! ive been thinking about this fic all october and finally let myself reread it. ive never loved beetlejuice more than when i read this. it's so fun!! so interesting!! pidge gets a chance to shine!! klance are so!!! the way it had the story of beetlejuice but adapted well!! im!!
5. never thought i'd see the day in my life by @coruscatingcatastrophe
But Keith has somehow gone even paler in the short amount of time he’s been at the table, and he shakes his head. “No, something is . . .” His gaze flickers back to Lance, and he’s startled to find that Keith’s eyes are purple. They’ve got to be contacts. Ridiculous. As if the mullet and gloves and personality weren’t enough. Keith pushes away from the table abruptly, looking incredibly put-off now. “I, uh—gotta go,” he mutters, before angrily gathering up the backpack he’d dropped into the chair next to him and storming out of the cafeteria. “Huh,” Hunk says. “Well, that introduction could have gone a bit better. Don’t take it personally though; sometimes Keith’s just like that.” - Or, a Twilight au starring Lance as Bella, Keith as Edward, and the rest of the Voltron gang as themselves. Lance is insufferable, Keith is awkwardly trying to figure out why Lance is the way he is, and along the way they fall in love, or something. It's probably, definitely the best love story since Twilight itself.
now ive never read twilight and i refuse to on principle. but i didn't find this one creepy and instead it was super fun and dweeby and lance is indeed a ray of sunshine, thank you megan for noticing, and it turns out when the story isn't a hetero mormon wet dream it's actually a good time!!
that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!
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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months
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A Deal with a Demon
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You are a witch who’s a little down on her luck. You go against all of the advice you’ve ever gotten and summon a demon to help fix your life… except that you misunderstood the inscription. Just who have you summoned and what kind of deal will he expect you to fulfill? 
Part One - Warnings for witchcraft, demonic Beetlejuice, mentions of sex, and the use of sex as a payment.
Part Two - Warnings for mentions of sex as a deal, heavy makeout session, elements of monster fucking, use of a gag, oral sex (female receiving), restraints, unprotected piv sex, creampie.
Part Three - Warnings for a sketchy ride share, description of a sex shop and sex toys, mentions of magic and witchcraft, hand jobs, grinding, unprotected piv, creampie, drug use. 
Part Four - Warnings for references to demons and witchcraft, background references to a sex shop, oral sex (fem receiving), coming untouched.
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beej-juicy · 1 year
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NSFW ficlet ahead:
🪲🪲🪲
"If you aren't topless in thirty seconds, I'm breaking shit."
The Deetz family asked you to housesit for them. Adam and Barbara would be there to reign in Beetlejuice, but Charles knew he liked you best.
Of course, they hadn't figured out why yet.
It had nothing to do with the fact that two weeks ago you rode his cock for the first time.
Nope, nothing to do with that.
Last time he'd made demands, you weren't tipping the pizza delivery guy fast enough so he broke one of Delia's favorite wine glasses and then fucked you on the kitchen counter.
Considering this, you were frantic to follow orders now. Trying to glue that thin glass back together had not been easy. Thankfully, Beetlejuice offered to use his powers to fix it...for a price. Your knees were bruised from how long he kept you on them.
Slipping the shirt off, Beetlejuice watches with a hungry expression. His jaw tightens when he notices you're not wearing a bra. Calmly leaning against the dining room wall, he licks his lower lip, pretends he isn't gawking.
"The pants. Unbutton them." At his words, you gape at him. "Now would be ideal, toots."
You'd worn a red lace thong...maybe in hopes he'd see it...but now your nerves got the better of you and you hope he just gets distracted and rips the clothes off instead of making you a spectacle.
No such luck.
He hums, two steps forward, inspecting. Index finger hooking under the elastic band on your right hip.
"Now, what've we got here?" A hand grips your hip, yanking the jeans down slightly to reveal the bright red fabric. "Well fuck me...you came prepared. Oooh, look at you." The glee on his face is gone moments later. "Strip."
You want to protest, but you're kind of turned on by the proximity. His gaze is alluring.
"Slow down," he urges when you grab at the jeans and start removing them. "Let me take you in."
As you undress, he walks around you like a predator. There's a low rumble in his throat and you swear he's growling.
Naked except the thong, you peer over your shoulder to see him ogling at your ass.
Two swift movements and he's got you bent at the hips, pinned against the dining room table where Delia hosts all her dinner parties. You feel filthy. You love it.
Beetlejuice is hard and he makes sure to let you know by grinding himself against your ass.
Seconds feel like minutes from the time he unzips to when you feel him rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt.
"God, please..." you huff out.
"No Gods here, darlin'." His gruff voice is against your ear as he shifts the thong to the side, shoves himself inside with no prep.
The stretch is painful yet glorious, the way he says your name burned into your memory. You can feel his facial hair against your back as he lolls his head forward, grumbling about how wet you are, how he's not going to last, how you should've never agreed to this weeks ago.
"You better get off before I fill you up, princess. Else you're not cumming all night."
It's a threat you know he'll follow through with. He has before.
A race to the finish always gives you a bit of a jolt. Being caught does also, but not by the Maitlands.
The slam above startles you, but Beetlejuice grips your neck, forces you back against him, groans when his hand cups your ass cheek.
"Those deadbeats are doing another aerobics thing or some shit. I dunno," he mutters against your neck. "Hey! Don't. Stop."
"You know this position isn't my favorite," you dare to groan out.
"Well you better figure it out quick, sweetness, because my balls are tightening and I'm not holding back."
You practically weep.
He snakes his hand around you, offers a harsh finger against your clit. His rubbing is sporadic and slightly distracting.
Slapping his hand away is probably not the best idea but you're acting on impulse, eager to cum with him stretching you so good.
He bites you - hard - draws blood. As you're about to yelp out, his hand covers your mouth, breaths coming out as gasps around his fingers.
"I'm not fibbing, honey," the growl is ever present in his voice. "You don't cum - now - you're not all night."
He knows - he knows - the urgency always gets you. His thrusts sloppy now, hand still over your mouth, you buck back against him to catapult yourself over that proverbial ledge.
"Oooooh, fuck, babe. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck." His thrusts are smooth now, hand pulling away from your mouth so he can grip both of your hips and slow his pace.
Your slick sounds are loud with every movement but the pace feels good, him hitting you deep and slow.
Clawing at the table runner, your breaths come out as gasps, quiet screams, praising him as your orgasm peaks.
Recovering and overstimulated, you're shocked Beetlejuice hasn't cum yet and with every thrust, he grips you tighter.
"Hey. Hey, no, toots. Stay there - just like that," you hear him through the ringing in your ears.
Throwing yourself back against him again, you almost feel the edge of the last orgasm prickling still and when he pulls out to just tease his tip, you're manic for a moment; enthralled by the sensation.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck, slam back on me, babes. Slam back on me!" He cries, forcing you backwards.
The pace he's thrusting into you has you breathless again and in mere seconds you feel him filling you up.
The sensation is overwhelming. Another orgasm rips through you. He holds you upright so you don't careen over the table, his strong hands another sensation on your sensitive flesh.
Breathless, you glance back at him.
"Not a fan of this position, huh." He chuckles, choking you momentarily before lazily pulling out of you.
"Guess I've just never been fucked proper in certain positions." It's a total bait.
A wide grin, "we can fix that."
As you're dressing, you notice the vase centerpiece is tipped over, a chunk missing from the lip.
Mouth agape, you realize you must've knocked it down.
"Get on your knees for me. I'll make it worth your time."
The devilish smirk on his face is hard to say no to.
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monsterbeetlebug · 1 year
Text
Beetlejuice short
Christmas dirtytalk
🎄Christmas🎄
The yearning to have someone with you during Christmas. Someone to be extra "cozy" with. To unwrap you like a present. You could even put a red bow on yourself to make you look even more like a present. Maybe they could dress up as Santa and ask if you had been a good girl this year. It made you laugh. But it had also made your cheeks a bit warm and red. You pranced over to your TV sitting down to put a movie in the dvd player. You joked with yourself.
"Oh Santa, I swear I've been a good girl this year. Don't I deserve a big candy cane?"
You giggled as as you popped open a dvd case. A piece of paper slipped out of it. Huh? What was that? Looked like an ad for a possible movie, or maybe some weird bug company? But one word was repeated specifically. Must be their catchfraze or something. You tried saying it out loud.
"Bet.. No. Beetle? Beetle goose? Huh weird word. Oh, maybe it's Beetlejuice?"
You felt chills down your spine. You put the paper back in the case before you went to the kitchen. Making a big cup of hot chocolate. As you stirred the cup you started humming. And kinda sang out the word again. Giggling to yourself as you thought of beetles being turned to juice. Yuck.
"Beetlejuice."
What a weird combination. Beetle and juice. Who came up with that? As you looked up you got scared. You swore you had seen a man in your kitchen window. It made your heart race. It was probably just your own reflection. You took a calming breath and focused on your hot chocolate again. Starting to hum a Christmas song you thought of the word Beetlejuice. Something made you want to say it again. Something intriguing about it.
"Beetlejuice."
All the lights went out and it instantly felt a bit colder. Did the power go out? But that didn't make any sense. You froze as you heard heavy footsteps coming closer. The smell of smoke creeping into you nose. You heard a rough voice slowly drawing out a sentence.
"Ho ho ho..Santa's back in town baby."
You could hear the smirk in his voice. Something about it was weirdly attractive. Thinking this wasn't real you tried to pinch yourself. Nothing. This was real. He snapped his fingers and a dim light turned on. You slowly turned around. Scared, yet curios. He just stood there. Hands in his pockets and cigarette in his mouth. Looming over you with his dark expression. A suggestive smirk. His eyes looking you up and down. You shakily asked him a question.
"Who a-are you?"
He raised a brow and huffed out a laugh. He pointed at you with the cigarette between his fingers.
"Ya just called daddy christmas and I'll be sure to give ya a big present."
He squeezed his groin and grinned. You felt your cheeks flushing red at his mannerisms. He sauntered closer and put a finger under your chin to look up at him. His voice melting your thoughts.
"A good girl like yerself wouldn't mind sitting on Santa's lap and tell what ya want for Christmas huh?"
You quivered at his question. A weird arousal formed. Did he know what you had half joked about earlier? You nervously gulped and soflty nodded. An honest answer. He snapped his fingers and his outfit had changed. He actually wore a santa suit now.
"I'll slip into yer chimney and deliver some presents dollface."
You whimperd as you understood what he meant. It was the first time you'd heard christmas dirtytalk in person. You didn't know how to respond. He chuckled and continued his smooth talking.
"I'll make yer christmas merry and bright sugar. Let me unwrap ya and I promise this won't be a silent night."
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robotic-rin · 4 months
Text
Why Wait For The Best When I Could Have You
(Beetlejuice x Reader)
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Summary: In the light of recent notable events, you haven’t been quite sure how to be forthcoming with the family regarding your budding relationship with a certain demon. It doesn’t help that said demon isn’t known for his ability to keep secrets. Also, hopefully your mind isn’t too preoccupied making plans to soft launch your relationship, because Beetlejuice has had something on his mind lately that he’d really like to try out. It may or may not involve indulging his demonic instincts by hunting you for sport as foreplay. He’s lucky that he’s dating a monsterfucker.
Word Count: 24,092
Rating: Explicit
Warnings/Tags: even crazier demon sex this time, predator/prey dynamic, somewhat monster-y beetlejuice, temperature play, consensual possession, tentacle sex, copious amounts of biting, overstimulation, just a dash of breeding kink, oh we’re making this one HORNY-horny folks, porn with an unreasonable amount of plot, plot segments range from domestic fluff to hurt/comfort, more of beej’s mood ring hair being used to further my nefarious agendas, afab reader but with no gendered terms, tried to limit my use of (y/n) but it is in there
Author’s Note: ok so i saw the very final showing of beetlejuice on broadway and it did inspire me to write a sequel to my fic that was originally meant to be a one shot. seeing alex brightman in the flesh was absolutely bonkers, there will never be another beetlejuice in my mind (though i’ve since seen justin on tour who is beyond awesome in the role too! alex is just my personal fave). my brain is like a snowglobe and beej is just rattling around in there so i had to write something. this can kinda stand on its own but i’d recommend reading the first fic in the series before this (linking it right here). as usual, check the tags before reading, make sure you’re good with em, and hope y’all enjoy!
“You did WHAT?”
You feel the welcoming presence of immediate regret falling over you as Barbara shoots a glare at Adam following his outburst. Maybe I should’ve told Delia first instead.
Adam seems to recoil in embarrassment at his wife’s disapproving look. “That is to say, that’s just, um…surprising! That you would accept Beetlejuice’s…unique advances. You just didn’t seem the, er, type.” His eyes dart between you and Barbara as he fumbles for words. “Okay, I’m just making it worse. Barbara, please, help.”
Barbara seems more than willing to swoop in and try to save this conversation. “What Adam is trying to say is, we love Beetlejuice, of course, he’s like family! We just didn’t expect that you would take to him so quickly and…enthusiastically! He’s a bit of an acquired taste for most people, like…quinoa salad! I mean, between the constant inappropriate comments, and the way he, to be frank, smells like a lawnmower on the best of days.” She laughs, just a bit too forced to sound natural but you’ll be damned if she isn’t doing her best to keep things polite.
Adam nods fervently. “Exactly, Barbara! Like, we’ve both kissed the guy through strange extenuating circumstances in the past, but it’s not like it was enjoyable!” He earns a swift elbow to the ribs from Barbara after that one. He lets out a soft oof and slumps against the side of the old loveseat where he and Barbara are seated across from you in the attic.
Barbara quickly turns and reaches to gently grasp your hands in hers. “Sweetie, it’s not that we aren’t happy for you, and Beetlejuice too. We just know that he can be a bit…much, after awhile, even for us. That might be a lot to deal with 24/7. I mean, it’s one thing if you didn’t have options, but someone like you? We always imagined you maybe with someone more, say…put together! Literally, when it comes to that guy.”
You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair, absentmindedly picking at the vibrant red stitched cushioning. “What, are you guys trying to tell me I can do better?” Your eyes dart up from your fidgeting hands to scan their faces.
With barely a second’s pause, the two of them begin talking over each other with various overlapping shades of, “No, nono, not at all, no…”
Adam seems to be nervously waving his hands at nothing in an attempt to dispel your accusation as though it were fog. “Hey, you’re a grown up, whatever choices you make, we support you one hundred percent! You just took us off-guard, I’m sorry if we come across as rude. If you’re sure about accepting Beetlejuice’s romantic propositions, then Barbara and I are beyond happy for you!”
“Absolutely stoked, dude!” Barbara puts on her silly deep voice for comedic effect, still fully dedicated to keeping the conversation light despite the deep awkwardness that practically permeates the air around you.
“Um, you guys realize I’m the one who more or less initiated this, right? If anything, he accepted my…romantic gesture.” You hadn’t exactly told them the less-than-family-friendly way that your feelings had been unexpectedly revealed to Beetlejuice due to some lingering sense of dignity and privacy that hadn’t yet left you, but you do have to wonder how long that’ll stay secret considering your new lover’s absolute and utter lack of shame.
“YOU came onto HIM?” This time, it’s Barbara who accidentally lets an exclamation slip out, earning an exasperated facepalm from Adam. You distantly wonder if Lydia’s conversation will go worse than this.
***
“So, how badly did they take the news?”
“They didn’t take it badly.” You resist the urge to look over at the demon who is currently hanging upside down from the ceiling next to your bed in a very relaxed bat-like fashion. Instead, you busy yourself with folding your laundry in neat piles next to you on your sheets. Anything to keep your hands moving.
Beetlejuice lets out a small huff. “You know, you can’t look me in the eye when you’re lying. The laundry isn’t that interesting, and I am literally hanging upside down on nothing. I’m very look-at-able.”
Your eyes dart up to take in his inverted face, one eyebrow raised (or lowered, from your perspective) in challenge. Any intention of snarking back at him dissolves at seeing his cute little expression, clearly proud of his perception. Without answering, you slowly lean forward, take his head in your hands, and softly kiss his lips. It’s an odd sensation to kiss someone upside down, but the two of you make it work. He returns the gesture wholeheartedly and without hesitation, kissing you in a equally gentle manner, yet not forgetting to keep you on your toes by quickly nipping your lip at the end with a sharp fang. He may be sweet with you, but he’s still himself, through and through. Not that you’re complaining.
“That was nice,” he rumbles, from somewhere way in the back of his throat. “But…you can’t kiss me out of this conversation.”
“I mean, it seemed to be working for a minute there.”
He barks out a laugh before twisting his head right side up, the rest of his body following at a delay and landing on the floor below on both feet, like a cat. “It was a valiant effort, babes. But come on, was your conversation really that bad?”
You sigh and toss aside your unfolded clothing to leave a spot on the bed for him to sit, which he readily takes. “I mean, it’s not that it was bad, it’s just…” You struggle for the right words before slumping forwards in defeat. “I don’t know.”
“Hm,” he muses at your words, emotions uncharacteristically imperceptible for a moment. “Babes, you know I won’t be pissed at them for thinking you deserve better than me, right?”
Your eyes snap open in shock and flicker over to Beetlejuice, scanning his neutral expression. Your mouth opens to say something, to assure him, to defend the Maitlands, to say something to make him feel better, but you can’t find any words.
“‘S’okay, you don’t have to say anything. I already expected it.” Beetlejuice moves to put his hand under your chin, thumb coming up to stroke your jawline to cheek. “Honestly, I agree with those two losers. I know you care about me, how could I not when you’re always lovin’ on me and shit? But I still don’t really get why. It wasn’t just to have sex, you’ve stuck around way past getting your rocks off and even willingly gotten into all my emotional fuckery. I don’t understand why. I mean, come on, have you seen yourself? You could easily woo somebody successful who, like, knows how to cook you a meal without explosions, someone who knows how dishwashers actually work, someone who can talk for hours about books, or art, or music, or whatever it is that smart people like you talk about.” He pauses. “…Someone alive. Better than a pathetic demon who just barely got a hold on his emotions after centuries of existence, at least.”
Your heart sinks, and you raise your hand to rest on top of his own hand on your face. “You shouldn’t say such negative things about yourself, for real. I don’t think of you like that, and I’m not leaving you.” You take note of his whole frame subtly tensing at those last words. There’s the sore spot. “I promise.”
His eyes dart to the floor. “…I know.”
You briefly study his reserved features in profile before bringing your hand to his face and turning him to look at you. “I’m not leaving you.”
He meets your gaze shakily. “Okay.” It seems as if he’s holding his breath, despite the fact that he doesn’t have any biological need for air. You’ve noticed that he’ll sometimes make sounds that can only be achieved through intake or outtake of breath, and you wonder if he does it on purpose for dramatic effect or subconsciously to mirror you, like a habit or mannerism picked up from a loved one. But right now, he’s still as a rock.
“Okay,” you repeat back to him, hoping your words were of some comfort. “As for the Maitlands, it’s not like they were against it or anything. They’re just surprised, and they don’t understand yet. But they will over time. Once they see us together.” You squeeze his other hand reassuringly in his lap. “And so will everyone else.”
He quickly jumps back to life after his quiet moment. “Ohhhh fuck, I forgot we have to tell everybody else in this house too. I kinda just wanna rip off the bandaid and tongue kiss you at family movie night and never bring it up so we don’t have to talk about it with all of these dweebs.”
“You absolutely know that Lydia will say something about that.” He’s right that Charles and Delia may be too polite to mention an elephant in the room, but Lydia has certainly never had an issue with being outspoken even if it’s uncomfortable.
Beetlejuice groans, flopping back on the bed. “Yep, you’re totally right. That kid is too blunt for her own good sometimes. Honestly, I’m shocked she hasn’t noticed something going on between us yet, cuz we’d totally know it if she had.”
You flop back onto the bed next to him, ignoring the tower of folded clothes that your head knocks over in the process. “To be fair, it’s only been a little over a week since we…got together.” What a polite way of saying we fucked like rabbits.
“Hm, maybe so, but you can’t deny the rich sexual tension that we’ve had going on for waaayyy longer than that, doll.” He winks at you and sticks out his tongue to punctuate the statement.
You let out a pure belly laugh at his words, playfully nudging his shoulder with your own. “Dumbass.”
Beetlejuice’s grin widens. “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?” He nudges you back slightly harder, so of course you have to do the same in return to keep your honor intact. Before you know it, he’s on top of you, leaving you unsure if he teleported or simply moved positions very quickly. Cheeks already flushing at the precarious position, you try your best to fight back against him feebly, attempting to throw or push him off and finding no success. Beetlejuice, on the other hand, is just laughing childishly at your predicament as he easily swats away your hands that attempt to push him away.
“I don’t take it back,” you announce stubbornly, still trying to get any sort of leverage on the demon but finding none. He clearly outclasses you in both weight and strength, but you’re not one to let the odds deter you in this game.
“Oho, you’re gonna regret that.” The next time your hand moves to shove at him, Beetlejuice instead deftly catches and holds it by the wrist, immediately doing the same when you bring up your other hand to fight him off. After capturing both of your hands securely, he easily pushes them onto the bed on either side of your head, his nose inches from your own. With you effectively pinned to the bed, his eyes lock with yours in a half-lidded teasing gaze, smirk only growing wider as you squirm beneath him to no avail. “Aww, aren’t you so cute trying to get away from me?”
“This isn’t helping your case of not being an asshole.” If you can’t fight him off physically, you can at least be satisfied a bit by digging your heels into the dirt with your words. The more time you spend being silly with him, the more you understand the joy that he finds in pushing people’s buttons.
Beetlejuice doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough at this point to recognize this as his tell-tale warning sign of impending mischief. Wordlessly, he breaks the locked gaze that he had going with you to look down at the rest of your trapped form. Before you can think of a witty remark, he moves almost faster than you can perceive to press his lips to your neck and blows a raspberry against your skin. Taken completely off guard by this vicious attack, you let out a shriek and begin wiggling around to try and loosen yourself from his grasp, legs kicking but unable to aid you in your escape. He rewards your efforts with a sickly sweet smile and another attack.
“You-hu-hu dick!” Your insult only spreads his smile wider, which in turn makes you want to get out of his grip and launch a counter-attack even more.
“Wow, what a nasty little breather you are. Maybe if you took back your hurtful words, I’d stop.” He demonstrates his ruthlessness by giving you another raspberry right where your neck meets your collarbone, his scruffy beard tickling horribly against your skin and driving you wild. You’re unable to hide your laughter at this point, both at the sensations and his silly antics.
“F-fine! Fine! I take it back! You are NOT an asshole at all! Happy?”
He brings his head back up to brush noses with you, a self-satisfied and victorious grin plastered to his face. “Was that so hard?”
You wrinkle your nose at him as you struggle to catch your breath, trying not to show on your face the overwhelming fondness that is currently washing over you. He’s unspeakably cute above you, delighting in a silly little game, while simultaneously straddling you in a way that’s making it even harder to settle your racing heart. With nothing witty to say, you crane your head forward to lock lips with him again, savoring the sweetness of his joyful surprise. Kissing you does at least make him let go of your hands, his need to touch you outweighing his dedication to your game. Your hands come up to grab at his hair, their new favorite spot to rest, as your kisses intensify. Beetlejuice makes a low noise and slips his long tongue into your mouth, the still-odd but welcome intrusion making you groan lightly. Part of you hopes you never fully get used to the demon’s otherworldly qualities, hopes that the way your stomach flips in surprise at feeling sharp fangs graze against your lips never dulls. You move your lips back against him with this thought in mind.
Knock, knock, knock. The sound of a rapping at your closed but unlocked door immediately pulls the two of you apart, Beetlejuice wearing a sour face at the interruption.
“(Y/N)? Can I come in or what?” The easily recognizable voice of Lydia causes you to practically throw Beetlejuice off from on top of you, and he ungracefully falls off of the bed and onto his backside with a thump. You find yourself caught between mouthing “sorry”’s and waving him away from your bed and hopefully getting across the message to act natural.
“S-sure Lydia, come on in!” You try to straighten yourself out to look presentable and inconspicuous within the next few seconds, too preoccupied with smoothing over your clothes to even check to see what Beetlejuice is doing. Before you have another moment to prepare, the door swings open and in walks the goth teen that you’ve been sharing a house with for the past few months.
“Hey, Delia just wanted me to ask if you’d help with…what are you doing?” Lydia eyes you up from the doorway as you sit with your hands folded politely on your bed.
“Oh, you know, just folding clothes!” You speak in a tone that feels far too cheery coming out of your mouth, but it’s too late for a do-over.
“Uh-huh.” Lydia crosses her arms, her eyes wandering to the knocked-over tower of once-folded clothes next to you that have since become wildly strewn about during your scrap and ensuing makeout session with Beetlejuice. “You’re doing a pretty bad job at it.”
You mentally facepalm. “Ha, yeah, I guess I am…” Your voice trails off awkwardly and you pray for this conversation to be over.
Lydia raises an eyebrow, clearly picking up the odd atmosphere but hopefully not exactly sure where it’s coming from. “Alright.” Her eyes flit over to where you last saw Beetlejuice heading, and only now do you think to follow her gaze and see what he’s up to, to which you immediately wish you hadn’t. He’s floating multiple feet away from your bed, reclined in the air like he doesn’t have a care in the world, licking his finger and flipping through a book that is clearly upside down.
“Oh, hi Lyds! What’s up?” He does finger guns at her, the book still floating in place without his touch.
Lydia furrows her brow. “Dude, what’s wrong with your hair?” You snap back into reality with this statement as you realize that BJ’s hair is a gradient of light pink to a slightly darker fuchsia starting at his roots, probably not a color that anyone has really seen on him but you.
Beetlejuice’s face falls. “Uh. Well. You know.” He visibly struggles for words. “Romance novel. Heh.” He gestures to the book, which very prominently reads INTRO TO PHYSICS in bold letters across the front, not to mention the fact that it is still very much upside down.
Lydia nods as if that clears it all up. “Ahh, riiiight.” She turns back to you. “Anyways, Delia wanted me to ask if you’d help cut vegetables or whatever for dinner…”
You clasp your hands together as if nothing on this Earth could bring you more joy than slicing up some carrots for Delia. “Oh, of course! Tell her I’ll be right down, thanks for relaying the message!” You also do finger guns at her for no reason.
“Will do, weirdo.” She turns on her heels and shuts the door behind her without another word. You and Beetlejuice both let out a sigh of relief and you practically collapse back on the bed.
Beetlejuice floats over and collapses next to you, his body facing the opposite direction of yours. “Okay, so she definitely knows something is up.”
***
Those carrots never could’ve seen it coming, I chopped them up so well. You take a bite of the steaming hot home-cooked dinner that you lightly contributed to with satisfaction. The rest of the family eats at their usual seats at the table, conversing about whatever random topics to fill the silence between bites of food. Adam and Barbara have plates of food as well, despite not physically needing to eat. You figure it’s more of an etiquette thing with them. Beetlejuice also has his own plate, but it’s one of those children’s paper plates with an animal face on it, which is the only thing he is allowed to use ever since he proved that he cannot be trusted with the nice glass plates. You can feel his eyes on you as you eat. He’s possibly the least subtle person in the world, living or non.
“So yeah, I think I singed my eyebrows mostly off but I did get an A on my chemistry project, so it’s all cool,” Lydia concludes her story for the family, which you realize that you were accidentally zoned out for the majority of.
“Hey, careful, we don’t need any more ghosts around here!” Adam jokes, making a ribbing motion towards Lydia in the most over-the-top dad-like way.
Charles laughs through a bite of mashed potatoes. “Well, that’s certainly one way to pass a class! You’re absolutely your mother’s daughter, Lydia. You know, Emily pulled nearly that same trick when she was still in college. She’d be proud to know you’re carrying on the family legacy!”
Lydia smiles, a genuine smile that she doesn’t try to hide or diminish. “Heh, wow. That’s pretty awesome, dad.” She finishes the last bite of her meal and glances over at Beetlejuice. “Wow BJ, you haven’t even touched your slop yet.”
Beetlejuice jolts as he’s called out, and spares a look down at his plate. “Slop” is the right word for it, considering that he seems to have just poured all of his food into one big mixed-up pile like a nasty lunatic, the carrots indistinguishable from the meat and all of them lost in a sea of gravy together. Without a word, he unhinges his jaw like a snake and tosses the entire concoction down his gullet whole, swallowing everything (yes, including the plate itself) in one bite with an exaggerated gulp sound effect. He gives a thumbs up at Lydia with an unchanged blank expression, which doesn’t exactly do much to make him seem more normal.
Lydia makes a weird face at him. “Okay man, what gives? You’ve been acting weird as hell lately, and not your regular weird. You gonna let us in on what’s up or keep being all cagey?”
In your peripheral vision, you see the Maitlands immediately seem to decide that their plates just magically became the most interesting things in the room, and very worthy of their close scrutiny. You feel stuck between saying something to help out the petrified-looking demon across the table from you and staying silent to avoid further incriminating yourself.
Delia’s singsong voice breaks you from your trance. “Okay! I am uncomfortable with the energy at this dinner table and would like to move on…!” She clasps her hands together whimsically. “Now then, I have a new and exciting plan. Let’s clean up these dishes and all watch a m-“
“I slept with (Y/N).”
…Horror. That’s the only word that you can possibly use to describe your emotions in this exact moment. And from where you assume your soul is now floating outside of your body, you can see that you’re not alone, as Beetlejuice is currently the epicenter of horrified looks from everyone in the room. He slowly turns to look at you, his head seeming as though it should be making a pathetic creaking noise. His eyes are stretched so wide that they look like they could bulge out at any moment, looking dead ahead with his lips pulled tight into a long, flat line. Without a word being uttered from anyone at the table, he begins to sink into the floor. Literally. Beetlejuice slowly phases straight through the chair, into the floor, and out of sight. And just like that, he is gone. You distantly wonder if you should start cursing his name or if you’re just jealous that he has the ability to do that right about now.
Lydia finally pipes up. “Wow, you guys are shit at keeping secrets.”
***
After what you can confidently call the most awkward family conversation of your entire life, you finally make it back to your room and shut the door behind you, slumping against it in defeat. That was NOT how I originally wanted that conversation to go. I’m lucky that Lydia, Charles, and Delia were pretty chill about the whole deal, all things considered.
A rustling from your vintage armoire (perks of a pre-furnished room) snaps you back into reality. You take a tentative step towards the closed brown doors and press a hand to the old wood. The rustling stops abruptly.
“…Beetlejuice?” You call out softly, drumming your fingers against the door in a pseudo-knock. A small rustle answers you, and nothing more.
You move your fingers to lift the latch lock into its unlocked position and slowly creak both doors open. There, under your waterfall of hanging clothes, lies Beetlejuice: curled up in a little ball, hair a deep shade of purple, looking up at you with puffy dark eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, before you can even get a word out. “I’m stupid. Good for nothin’. I ruined your plan to tell everyone about us nicely.” You open your mouth, but he holds up a hand dramatically. “N-no need to say anything. I’ll go be a disappointment in someone else’s boudoir.” He materializes a small bindle over his shoulder and moves his hand up to snap himself somewhere else.
“Hey, wait, don’t go.” You gently grab his hand that he was about use to snap himself away, more of a symbolic gesture to stay than anything. “You’re not any of those things, and I don’t want you to leave.”
“I…” A look of slight surprise graces his forlorn face at both your words and touch. His earnest eyes seem to be searching your own for any sign of lies, and, finding none, he lowers his hand from your touch and disappears the bindle. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I really didn’t.” His voice has such a vulnerable touch to it, like a dog who had grown accustomed to being kicked and couldn’t find it in himself to expect any different. It truly breaks your heart to see, despite the lingering sense of embarrassment from dinner.
You sit outside of the large dresser, crossing your legs and leaning against its frame. “I know, bug. I’m not mad at you. I mean, I would’ve preferred maybe a softer phrasing if we had any control, but Lydia put you on the spot and we hadn’t even talked about how we would say it. It’s okay.” You bring your hand up to gently pet his hair, testing his reception to physical comfort right now. You get your answer when he leans into your hand with his entire head almost immediately.
“No kidding…kid had our number, babes. Or at least mine. But hey, least I didn’t say it like we bumped uglies or anything, I was pretty close and what I did say was all else I could think of right then. Mind couldn’t keep up with my mouth.” He lets out a labored sigh and smushes more of his face up against your hand like a particularly affectionate cat.
You give a small grin at his head bumps of love. “Yeah, well I have firsthand experience with how fast your mouth can be, so that checks out.”
A giggle that Beetlejuice couldn’t quite hold back slips out, a melodic sound to you. “Making sex jokes isn’t fair. You know I’ll always laugh at sex jokes.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I do know it.” You sit up on your haunches and lean in to lightly pepper his face with tiny kisses, only worsening the demon’s grip on his composure. The giggles that start to pour out of him uncontrollably are infectious, and you quickly find yourself unable to hold back your own. You continue your attack, enjoying the view as you watch tips of light pink begin to crawl up a few of his purple hair strands without his knowledge. After a good bit of shared laughter at your unrelenting kisses, Beetlejuice finally catches your mouth with his own. The feeling of his smile against your lips is sweeter than candy, and succeeds at making you forget all of your troubles for as long as it lasts. You suspect that he feels the same, considering that you are always, without fail, the first one to break away from every kiss due to your inconvenient need for oxygen. If it were up to him, you two might not ever come up for air.
When you pull back from him breathlessly, Beetlejuice’s eyes remain fixed on you, soft and almost perplexed as he searches for something unknowable in your expression. “Why do you love me back?” His voice comes out as a whisper despite the two of you being alone, as if he’s frightened what the walls of the home will think upon hearing his weakness.
“Oh, Beetlejuice…” You feel your loving gaze that remains locked onto him become tinged with layers of sadness, pitying the man who just can’t see himself the way you do. You reason that the best you can do is try to paint him a picture of your vision. “Where to even begin…? I can’t even say when or where I first fell in love with you, it’s like, I just realized one day that it had already happened to me without asking my permission. Yeah, I was really physically attracted to you, as we’re both well aware by now, but it’s more than that. I never wanted you to be just a hookup without anything past that.” Your hand finds its way to his own, an anchor to real life as you struggle to put your feelings to words in a way that will help him. “Beetlejuice, I love spending time with you. You’re the funniest person I know, and I’ve never had a dull moment with you. I could spend years watching bad movies and pranking the Maitlands with you and never get tired of your company. And, maybe my favorite thing about you is, try as you might sometimes, you can never actually hide how much you care about the people you love. I mean, you and Lydia squabble, but that kid is so important to you, I can see it. If she ever came home and said a teacher was picking on her, you’d probably go light their house on fire for being mean to your friend. That’s, like, the most attractive thing ever, if we’re being real here.” You’re blushing red hot at the earnest nature of your own words but do your best to keep your eyes from darting away bashfully. “Look, I…I wish I could say it better, so that you wouldn’t have to feel like you’re not good enough ever again. I wish I could fix things for you with pure strength of will, because I would be able to do it in a heartbeat. It kills me to know that you don’t always see yourself as worthwhile and lovable. I know you have stuff to work through, and honestly, so do I, but I wanna be with you to see it through. I’m all in, baby, you’re never getting rid of me. And I really do love you, so, so much.”
When you finally can savor your breath again after talking for so long without much pause and really take Beetlejuice in, you see two dark eyes looking back at you through a stream of tears. While one hand is still holding onto yours, the other is pressed up against his mouth tightly by his palm, as though to keep any sounds locked deep inside of him. Even so, he can’t quite stop a small sob from shaking his body, then another.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you attempt to soothe, craning your head to rest against his side, your chin grazing his lap as you look up at him. A more intimate touch, but not domineering and overwhelming, you hope.
Beetlejuice lets go of your hand to wipe at his eyes frantically, trying to clear away tears as more just keep flowing out of him. Now that he’s let one sob slip through, he seems to have fully lost his control as his body is wracked by more and more against his will. “I-I’m sorry, sorry…”
“Please don’t be.” You keep your head pressed against his side in a way that you hope is comforting to him. For a few moments, the two of you just sit there without speaking. You, praying that what you said was worded correctly, and Beetlejuice, trying and failing to stifle his weeping for so long and so hard that it eventually just dissolves into quiet hiccups.
After a bit of silence, Beetlejuice finally seems to calm down. “Wow, that was really embarrassing.” He speaks still lower than usual, but closer to his normal register.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry, that was supposed to make you feel better,” you sigh, bringing your head back up to be level with him (more like a bit below him, as the armoire’s bottom shelf is slightly above the ground level where you sit).
“No, s’okay. I think that was good for me to hear from you, probably. It was just…a lot. ‘Specially for someone who tries to avoid dealing with emotional crap as much as possible.” He turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since he broke down crying. “N-not saying what you said to me was crap! Not at all, don’t get me wrong. Just kinda…overwhelming, getting told so much good stuff about me at one time. Not used to it, kinda freaked me out in the moment. Buncha criticism at once, sure, that’s an average Tuesday, but that’s different.”
You smile lightly at his words, taking note of the purple beginning to fade from his hair and being replaced with his usual green, in addition to streaks of light pink. “I meant everything I said, y’know. Those are just a few of the reasons that you’re stuck with me, I could give you a list triple that size if I had some ample prep time and a better grasp on flowery love language.”
“Heh, you are too cute. C’mere.” Beetlejuice grabs your entire torso clumsily by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up and into the armoire, crashing your entire body against his lounging form. The two of you go from fully separated to tangled together in a tight space very quickly, leaving you to yelp in surprise as you try to adjust your positioning without much room to do so. The fact that the bottom portion of the armoire has a lip that comes up a few inches in front of where the doors close is all that separates you from losing your balance and falling right out. Kind of a miracle we’re not breaking right through this! Not sure if that’s demon magic or if this old thing is just sturdy as hell.
Try as you might, your legs being all tangled up and too long for the space keeps you from properly lifting yourself off of him for more than a second. “Well, I’m right here now, bug. Better?” As if to punctuate this, you lose your bracing and drop yourself with a thunk back onto his chest, which shakes below you with laughter at your predicament.
“Oh yeah babes, nice to see you still can’t keep yourself off of me.” Beetlejuice snickers, but does help your slippery ass out by pushing your chest backwards a bit, making you sit up more securely and straddle him on your knees.
You look down at him from your improved vantage point, taking in his mischievous little expression and wondering how long that’s been plastered on his face. “And just what are you thinking about right now?”
He meets your questioning eyes, sly smile only growing. “Oh, nothing. Just that I’ve never had sex in a boudoir before.”
“Baby, I can barely fit in here with you, I have no idea how sex could even take place in here.” As you speak, you also become aware of the clothing hanging just above your head, and do giggle to yourself at the idea of repeatedly smacking your head against a pair of pants in this scenario.
“Well that’s ‘cuz you’re not using your imagination, my love.” You feel his hands move down to grope at your ass as he teasingly enunciates your little pet name. “It’s fine though, it is a little shallow for two in here.” With that, he poofs the two of you onto your own bed, and you sprawl out gratefully on top of him, stretching your cramped limbs out.
“Sorry bug, my human body can’t be contorted that way for very long like yours can.” Your joints pop in relief as you go full starfish on top of your demon boyfriend, snuggling your head up against his chest. “I’ll do anything else you want, as long as I’m not smushed into a box to fuck.”
“Anything?” The tone in his voice makes it seem like his ears have perked up at your words in extreme interest.
You lift your head off of his chest to look him in the eye, a playful glint in your own. “Ah, it sounds to me like you might already have an idea here.”
Beetlejuice’s eyes quickly dart away, his cheeks flushed pink. “Ah, I mean- not, y’know, necessarily per se…” His defensive mumbles fade into unintelligible hums as he twiddles his fingers nervously.
“You’re cute when you’re shy.” You bump your forehead against his, forcing him to look at you since your eyes are mere inches from his own. “Y’know, it’s just about the only time you don’t have a clever comeback.” The mumbles that he makes in response only prove your point and make you giggle, pulling your head back and rolling over to lay next to him. “But really, BJ, you can tell me. You know I won’t laugh or think you’re weird….er than usual.”
He fidgets with the fabric of the sheets beneath him. “I know you won’t, I just…” He falls silent, seeming at war with himself over what to do. Being this coy about matters of sex is extremely odd for Beetlejuice, which of course, only piques your interest on what he could be so hesitant about even more.
You place your hand on his bicep, wishing that he’d ditched the classic striped suit before the conversation started so you could feel his cool skin underneath. “Hey, I know I’ve mostly taken the lead the few times we’ve had sex since getting together, but it doesn’t have to be that way every time. You know I’m willing to try different stuff if it’s with you. The real question is, what do you want to do?”
“I mean- I just like whatever you like, you know th-“
“Beetlejuice.” His eyes finally flick back over to make contact with yours, the power of you saying his full name is enough to get his attention on you and his mind out of his own thoughts a little. Your eyes soften at his hesitance. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. Your thoughts matter to me. Promise.”
He seems to visibly soothe under your reassurances, though his face is still a bit twisted up. “I just- I mean, I guess I’ve always wanted to…” He drapes an open palm over his red-hot face, ever the drama queen.
“Yeah?”
“Maybe try, like, I dunno…hunting you down like a demon would and fucking you ‘til you forget your own name…” He chances a single glance at you through his fingers. “Something like that?” His words were spoken at about three times his normal speed, but you made sure not to miss a single syllable of that confession.
“Oh? Is that so?” You drag your words out in a sweet tone, relishing the way that he peeks at you from behind his strategically draped hand. “You wanna give me the full haunted house demon treatment before fucking me?”
Beetlejuice sits fully up, no longer able to stay reclined back on the bed or hide his enthusiasm as he talks. “Yes, yes, God yes, please, I h-haven’t thought of anything else in so long…! I wanna use my powers on you too, y’know, only if you’d be okay with that…” The floodgates have opened, and his eyes peer down at you with a vicious mix of lust and approval-seeking.
You meet his gaze with a half-lidded smile, sitting up to mirror his position. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Okay, don’t even say too much now, I’ve just decided I want you to completely surprise me on this.”
Uncertainty shrouds his expression. “You’re really okay with being scared by me, like that?”
You grin at his concern for you, internally cooing over how cute he’s being about such a lewd idea. “Baby, I hope I feel more scared than I’ve ever been before and powerless against such a big, scary demon, too. I know you respect me and wouldn’t cross any boundary that I didn’t want crossed, especially since we just the other day talked about the specifics in that department. We can use the same stoplight safeword setup as we have before, that seemed to work pretty well. So, think you can do that for me? Make me feel like I’m at the mercy of some terrifying ghost haunting my house before making me cum my brains out?”
He suppresses a groan, from far deep down in his chest. “Fuck, y-yeah, I think I can do that. Y’know, as a favor to your horny self, of course. Since you asked and all.”
You let out a giggle at his antics. “What, are you trying to tell me that it doesn’t make you horny to think about? That doesn’t sound like the Beej I know. I’m pretty sure you were at half-mast yesterday when I was just washing a zucchini in the kitchen.”
He grumbles defensively, crossing his arms but leaning in to push his shoulder into yours. “Well, try not to wash it so sluttily next time, I dunno…” His eyes dart away in embarrassment at being called out. “And hey, just a warning, but you might not be able to keep up with me if I go all-out. Remember when I told you that demons have a refractory period of like, 3.5 seconds? I wasn’t exaggerating, for once. So don’t be afraid to tell me when your little mortal body can’t take anymore.”
You have the ill-advised gall to laugh at this. “I’m not too worried about it. I’ve never had trouble keeping up with your needy ass before, so I think I’ll survive.”
Beetlejuice shrugs at your nonchalance. “Hm, if you say so. Just remember that I said it later.” He leans forward to rest his chin on his hands, as though he were preparing to gossip in bed with you. “Now, the real question is, when are we gonna get freak-ay? We do not have the amount of privacy that I’m sure you’ll want for this sorta event very often in this crowded-ass house.”
You lean forward to mirror his pose, both of you now looking like girls sharing secrets at a sleepover. “Well, I happen to know that everyone is planning to go out all day tomorrow. Including the Maitlands for once, since Lydia found out that they can possess objects and tag along for outside adventures Annabelle-style last month. Which I’d say, works out great for a human that will be home alone in the evening with the whole house to themself, eerily quiet and empty. Sure hope nothing happens.” Your demon’s pupils quickly become big round pools of inky blackness that engulf the surrounding brown iris as you say this, his body clearly giving away his interest in this idea. You flash him a knowing smirk, feeling the urge to be mean and tease him just a bit more than you should rear its head. “Think you can be patient enough to wait for it, or do you need me to give you a quick blowjob now to tide you over? I mean, I’m gonna make you wait either way, but I think I’d like to hear you ask nicely for it. Just for fun.”
As you finish speaking, Beetlejuice’s entire posture shifts in a way that you’ve never seen before. You swear that he looks slightly taller after adjusting himself to look directly at you, eyes narrowed but pupils still overtaking all of the surrounding color, fully locked on to your smaller form. “Oh-ho, my sweet, foolish little breather. I’d be more worried about yourself for the time being if I were you.” His self-satisfied smile shows off his fangs, looking even pointier than usual pressed against his bottom lip. “Now, I know you said you wanna be surprised, but I will say just one thing.” He brings a clawed hand to your cheek, stroking the soft skin gently, as though you were made of porcelain. “Make sure that tomorrow night, you’re wearing clothes that you don’t mind being ripped to shreds.” His words, spoken at a deep and salacious growl that is new to you, send a spark from the top of your spine that travels down through your entire lower body. Your visible shiver causes Beetlejuice’s slight smile to become a full grin at your reaction, and you nearly miss the intertwined streak of red and fuchsia swiftly sear its way through his hair.
You struggle to find the words to respond, his ability to turn the tables so quick has left you utterly reeling. “Uh, yeah, I can- I can do that.” And we’ve barely even begun. Maybe I really have bitten off more than I can chew.
“Good,” Beetlejuice purrs, stroking your face with claws that seem to be growing sharper by the second against your cheek. He runs them under your jawline by their tips, little pinpricks that tickle but also threaten to break the skin if he were to apply any pressure. “Oh, and uh, one more thing, my love.”
You can’t help you gulp that escapes you as his thumb and forefinger grab hold of your chin and hold you in place. “Y-yes?”
Anticipation dances behind his pretty brown eyes forebodingly. “If you run and hide from me, you’d better not let me catch you.” And just like that, it’s as though you blinked and he disappeared from your sight in an instant.
***
You adjust yourself on the living room sofa, flipping through TV channels absentmindedly. You have certainly not forgotten what Beetlejuice said to you before disappearing. On top of that, he’s made you a hyper-vigilant mess by not showing up again for the rest of the previous night and into this evening, the longest that you’ve gone without at least a pop-in visit from him since getting together. Everyone else was still gone for the day, having a lovely time out on the town, you assume. They had all said how bad they felt for leaving you behind on a family fun day, but you had fibbed a bit and told them not to worry since you were too busy with work to plan a full day out right now. Work, indeed.
A loud clap of thunder interrupts your thoughts, making you jump in surprise before sighing in relief. Hope the family isn’t getting rained out of their fun, whatever they’re doing out there. The wind is whistling outside as rain whips itself across the house with no signs of stopping. The pounding of the rain against the rooftops was creating a nice dull melody that you would to relax to, that is, if you were capable of relaxing right now. You wonder whether Beetlejuice might have any kind of influence over the weather or if the universe was just on his side for tonight. You’d by lying if you said you weren’t on edge, feeling like you’ve been standing on the edge of a precarious cliff as soon as the family left the house. He must know that you’ve been home alone for hours now, and yet he still hasn’t appeared. Unless, of course, he’s hiding in the house right now, invisible to your human eyes whenever and wherever he wants to be. As far as you know, he could be standing inches away from you, and you would be none the wiser until he chose to make himself known.
You vaguely regret the fact that you’d bent to your impulses and teased at making him wait for sex, for a multitude of reasons. A pent-up and horny Beetlejuice is an unpredictable Beetlejuice, especially when you throw in the fact that you asked him to be as rough and monstrous as possible tonight into the mix. Dread isn’t exactly the right word for what you feel, but it isn’t quite as small and easily explainable an emotion as mere anticipation either. You want him to appear more than anything, and yet all of the hair on your arms stands on end when you imagine what he’ll do when he does show up. You’ve been frustratingly wet for hours at the idea of it, unable to focus on anything else, but you haven’t touched yourself out of fear of him silently watching to see if you succumb to your own desire again, needy and impatient and desperate all because of him. The last thing he needs is such a monumental ego boost. If his goal is to play mind games and get inside my head, it’s working. You bitterly admire the restraint he’s displaying that you never would’ve imagined in a million years that he possessed.
Suddenly, another boom of thunder shakes the house, taking the lights and TV out with it and drenching you in darkness. A power outage. Awesome. Okay, stay calm. You feel around the couch cushions for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be found. Shit, I must’ve left my phone upstairs, so no dice on that flashlight for now… You quickly brainstorm an option that doesn’t feature you having to crawl up a staircase in complete darkness. Oh wait, I think Delia left some candles downstairs the other day after a long terrace meditation session! Standing up and trying to keep your balance as your eyes adjust to the sudden lack of light overtaking the house, you try to remember where the candles were last being stored. I think I saw them last when Delia was putting them in that kitchen drawer by the sink…I think.
Unsteadily, you step away from the couch and proceed in the direction of the kitchen. You’re starting to be able to make out general shapes of items in your path, but the darkness is so all-consuming that it can be hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t. You tiptoe around what could be a chair or just a dark shadow in the shape of one, taking care to reach out and touch the doorway to the kitchen with the delicate tips of your fingers before gently creaking it open. It makes far more sound in the process of opening than you would like, which you proceed to feel silly about worrying over considering that Beetlejuice is most likely not even here if he hasn’t made himself known yet. You feel you can pretty confidently conclude that he wouldn’t have this much patience, not when you’re so clearly right out in the open and defenseless.
With the door full and loudly open, you slip through and into the main kitchen area. Feeling around for the correct cabinet, you finally reach the one you were hunting for and pull the drawer out slowly. Using mostly touch, you feel around inside for the distinct texture of the long wax candle that Delia was holding in your memory, your hand skittering around the menagerie of unseeable items until your fingers finally graze its smooth surface. Your feeling of success is immediately extinguished when you hear a dull thud from the living room through the door, like the sound of something heavy being placed on the floor just a bit too quickly. At this noise, your hair immediately stands on end and you shrink towards the ground on instinct. You can’t quite see through the door at the angle you’re at, but you keep your eyes glued on the doorframe anyway. After a few moments of only utter silence following, you slowly rise back to full height. Maybe I am on edge enough to be imagining things. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard a phantom sound while I’m home alone that turned out to be nothing.
Steeling your nerves, you return your hands to the drawer to feel around for a candle lighter, keeping your body faced towards the doorway and your back facing nothing but an empty corner. The rain continues to pound against the house, lessening your sharp hearing abilities a bit with its unyielding dull roar. It’s taking you longer to find the lighter now, considering how you’re attempting to be careful to not disturb the various items in the drawer so as to make the least amount of sound possible. But the mixture of being unable to find the lighter and being on high alert from the random noise is making your heart race, and making you increasingly sloppy in your work of rustling around the drawer. You’re actually beginning to pant as you try to quicken the speed of your hands, ears ringing as you search fruitlessly for this godforsaken lighter and become only worse and worse at the task. You swear you see something move in the kitchen out of the corner of your eye, but nothing has come through the door and all of the shadows feel as though they’re closing in and grabbing at you, so you ignore your mind’s alarm bells and begin rifling through the drawer with reckless abandon. You feel as though you’re reaching a breaking point of some sort when finally, finally, you feel the cool plastic of the lighter beneath your touch. You let a shaky breath out, grasping the lighter and clicking in the button to produce a small flame.
Just as the flame sparks to life, lighting up your world just that small but significant bit, you feel your stomach drop in a way that tells you something is deeply, deeply wrong. It’s an old gut feeling, one so ancient and instinctual that it feels utterly impossible to ignore. The flame goes out, despite you still holding the button down. Before you have a chance to truly take this emotion in, you feel an unnatural chill that starts at your neck and runs all the way down your spine. You reach up to cover your neck reflexively, only for the same sensation to hit your fingers and the exposed bits of neck around it, closer and more intense. It’s only now that you realize what exactly is causing this chill against you. Breath. Cold, inhuman breath. A flat, unconvincing charade of your own breathing, carving a space for itself in the uncanny valley due to how incorrect it feels. Not only is it cold, but the breaths don’t have proper breaks between them, and they shift from being far too short to far too long to ever pass as natural. You realize upon this consideration that you’ve been frozen for more time than you meant to be, and quickly whip your body around to come face-to-face with the source of this “breathing.” But when you turn around, you’re merely greeted by empty air, same as it was before. Except that now, you feel the same breath on your neck from behind you again, causing you to once again try to turn fast enough to catch the source. And again, you fail.
Suddenly, you see a ripple in the shadows in front of you and feel a pressure push itself against your body. You scream on impulse at the contact and jump backwards, dropping your wax candle and accidentally knocking a bowl that had been left on the kitchen counter to the floor in the process, where it shatters on impact. With no time to react, you feel yourself pushed up against the same wall you had fearfully jumped towards by the same heavy force as before. You’re rendered completely immobile in seconds, some invisible, freezing cold strength holding you in place against the wall. Your arms are pinned up by your head, with most of the presence being on your torso to keep you in place. On top of the otherworldly force, you feel phantom hands begin to travel all over your body, too many to count. Over your throat, your chest, your legs, your ass. Scratching down your arms, you can barely see in the darkness as small red marks appear on them out of thin air. Without any warning, you feel something wet that you cannot see make contact with your exposed collarbone and drag its way up your neck, deliciously slow, as though you were being savored. At the same time, something sharp digs into both of your thighs at once, five little pinpricks of that grace the underside of each leg as they are lifted up and into the air, dangling uselessly. You can’t tell if blood is being drawn, but it hurts enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Hurts so good. Hurts so good.
“B-Beetlejuice…” Your breathy moan pierces the otherwise silent room, and the wet appendage is pulled away from your throat slowly and deliberately. The pinpricks are lifted from your thighs and your feet come back to rest on the ground.
The shadows once again ripple, but this time, you can finally see him there, inches away from your face. His usually soft and pleasant features are so sharp and monstrous upon his self-reveal that it makes you jump a bit just to see him. He’s tall, unmistakably taller than his usual height, and looming over you with the hunched posture of a recently-transformed werewolf, some creature who was all bent out of its natural shape. Everything otherworldly about him is exaggerated, you notice, as your eyes rake over his fangs, which have become long enough to look like they could seriously do some damage in addition to his other usually-normal teeth looking sharp enough to hurt you as well. His claws are filed into sharp points, his tongue appears to have developed a fork at the tip on top of its impressive length, and his pupils have completely shifted into small black slits. A bright lightning strike pours through the large kitchen window and lights up the house for but a second to reveal his changed form more clearly to you, the black and white stripes covering his form reminding you of the hypnotically beautiful warning markings of a venomous creature. In the momentary flash, his eyes, mere inches away from yours, reflect back the light and shine bright white like the eyes of some nocturnal animal. The expression in those eyes is wild and feral, and while you’ve certainly seen Beetlejuice’s expression full of desperation and lust, this is the first time that you’ve felt like he’s ready to pounce and take whatever he wants from you. Not to mention the mixture of red and fuchsia lighting up his hair even in this darkness, a combination that you’ve never seen overtake him before.
“Mmm, I could cum from your delicious screams alone,” his voice rasps next to your ear, having an additional deep growl to his every word that you’re certain only a demon could produce, his usual tone mixing with something darker layered beneath it. It rumbles against your skin and causes another shiver to shoot up your spine, making your entire body shudder under his hold. He gives a look that you can assume is deep satisfaction with himself, pressing his face to your neck and inhaling deeply. “Gimme a color, babes.”
You gulp, not prepared to force words out of your dry throat. “G-green.”
You feel him smile against your skin. “Good. You tell me if that changes.” He pulls his head back to really take you in. You must look like a wreck, eyes clouded over with terror and desire, already clearly a horny mess from hours of waiting. Whatever state you’re in, it must please Beetlejuice to see, as he can’t seem to stop raking his eyes up and down your figure. “Okay, you want monster, how about this…I’m gonna give you ten seconds to decide whether you’re gonna run and hide like prey, or stand here and take it like a champ. Your call, but I will say this: if you can successfully hide from me, I’ll make it worth your while. This night can still become all about you, I can put all my focus into getting you off like a good little demon. But, if you decide to run, and I catch you, I’m gonna use you. I’m gonna make you get me off again and again and again, and I’m gonna keep fucking you like my own little personal toy ‘til I’ve used every last little bit of you up. However long that takes.” There’s no hiding the bulge that rubs up against your thigh as he lays out this last part of the agreement. “So. Deal?”
Your mouth runs dry at his proposal, but not out of distaste, or any true fear. It’s something much more entrancing that holds you in place, warmth pooling between your legs before you finally speak, your voice sounding far less stable than you’d like. “Deal.”
A devilish smirk makes its way across Beetlejuice’s features, and he puts his hand out to shake on it. Even when he’s taking charge, it seems he can’t help but still be at least a little bit of a dork about it. You reach out to take his offered hand and he squeezes your own with more force than necessary before moving both of your hands up and down emphatically. Satisfied, he lets you go for the moment. “Your ten seconds begin now.”
It’s not even a question when you tear off towards the living room, through the kitchen door which swings aimlessly behind you due to the rush of your swift exit. Behind you, you can hear harsh laughter growing distant as you run. Your eyes quickly search your surroundings as you sprint carefully across the length of the dining room (at least, as much as you can safely sprint in this darkness). The house has only so many rooms, but is quite spread out and full of potential objects to conceal yourself behind, or under. The problem is, you have mere seconds to get into place and your brain is currently mixed up in a swirling whirlpool of arousal and pure prey drive that is greatly affecting your ability to locate a proper hiding space. You have no idea if it’s been one second or nine seconds by the time you reach the couch that you had been sitting on not too long ago, and hopelessly try not to lose yourself to panic as you scan the room at light speed. Both the Deetz and Maitland families kept the house fairly free of unnecessary clutter, which on any other day, would be a perk to living in their shared house. Not so much when a demon is hunting you.
Just as you’re starting to get overwhelmed by the feeling that you’ve lost before you’ve even begun, you notice that there’s a small space between one of the living room sofa chairs and the wall that would probably be just big enough for you to squeeze behind. Having no other option readily available, you practically hurl yourself into the crevice. You harshly smack your right forearm on the armrest of the cushioned chair on the way down but pay it no mind, draping a blanket that had been sitting on the lap of the chair to hang slightly over your head so as to better conceal yourself. Just as you finish adjusting your hiding place, you hear the door to the kitchen slam with terrifying power.
“Oho, my little breather, don’t you know that the quickest way to get a predator to chase you is to run?” His voice is ice cold yet tinged with a bit of humor, but whatever the joke is, you’re clearly not in on it. He’s laughed at you plenty before, but it’s usually benign and lightly teasing, not the hissing, cruel laughter that seems to encircle and taunt you now. You hear footsteps begin to fall, loud stomps that seem to echo through the room and make it difficult to pinpoint which direction he’s headed. That is, until they start to head distinctly closer.
You try to calm your breathing, which is still heavy and labored due to your mad dash from the kitchen. Your racing heart certainly isn’t doing you any favors in this regard, only adding to your stifled gasps for air. You put a hand over your own mouth, doing your best to quiet your stupid human noises as the sound of your demon’s footsteps grow closer and closer. Even as you do, you feel your lungs greedily pleading for more air than you can currently offer, and breathing through your nose does little to quiet your body’s demands. As you sit in your makeshift nest like a quail trying not to startle and take flight, the realization dawns on you much too late that you have been fighting a losing battle. This wasn’t a fair deal, it was a game, and this game was clearly stacked in his favor. You should’ve know you can’t hide from a demon in his own house, not when he hadn’t even put a time limit on the deal! You mentally berate yourself for being so foolish, getting tricked into playing a game that could never be won. Or maybe he didn’t really trick you; maybe on some level, you knew you wanted to lose to him, before losing yourself in him. A deal with a devil you were destined to regret from the start. These thoughts buzz around your mind incessantly, feeling louder than your heartbeat and heavy breathing combined.
A feral growl snaps you from your mind’s tangent, so close to your hiding spot and yet not quite on top of it yet. “It’s no use, I can smell you.” You heard him audibly sniff the air. “Hmm, you smell like fear, the fear of someone who knows just how outmatched and, well, how fucked they really are, but it’s all mixed up with the smell of your lust. I’d never mistake that combination in a million human lifetimes. So sweet, so perfect, you’re making me drool here, doll…”
Your treacherous heart quickens at his words, and you pray that he can’t hear it pounding away in your chest. You’re internally pleading for the pouring rain outside to mask any smaller sounds that you make, but you don’t count on any favors from the universe today.
“Hmm…” You can hear the smile in his voice, and the implications of this worry you greatly. “You know, you act like you’re so mature and unknowable compared to me, but I can read you like a book. I can smell how wet you are for me, how much you’ve been absolutely gagging for it since last night. Y’know, I’m kinda shocked you didn’t just fingerblast yourself on the couch like a needy little whore after I made you wait so long. I know you wanted to. Bet you couldn’t think about anything else all night.”
You feel your face completely flush, biting down on the hand that you’ve been using for covering your mouth to keep from making any sound. He thinks he can get me to break by his words alone, but he’s wrong. I’m not going down that easily. After speaking, you notice that his stomping footsteps have halted, as though he’s standing frozen with his ears pricked up to listen for you to falter. You hold steady, difficult as it is. Without warning, a loud CRASH rings out, making you jolt in place. For a moment, your brain registers it as a thunderclap, before quickly realizing that Beetlejuice had in fact violently flipped over some large piece of furniture in the living room, uprooting it in his search for you. Or just to frighten you. Take your pick.
“I’m starting to get impatient with you, little bird,” he snarls, pacing around the large room and forcefully pushing away seemingly anything that finds itself in his path. “The longer you make me wait, the worse it’ll be when I eventually catch you. And I will catch you. You can’t hide from a demon for very long.” As he speaks, you hear another sound ever so faintly, but one that immediately makes you press your thighs together painfully. The unmistakable sound of Beetlejuice roughly pumping his own cock. It’s increasingly evident that he might be getting off on this even more than you are, which is quite a feat.
You suppress a pleasurable shudder, as well as the desire to join him. Your thighs rub together in a sad attempt to find friction, instead just making you feel more like a desperate caged animal. You hear him let out a small moan from across the room, and can’t help the way that your breath hitches in your throat before coming out as the smallest whine, barely crossing the threshold of your parted lips against your will before you hurriedly clamp your mouth down around it. Even so, you hear Beetlejuice’s various noises immediately stop all at once, before he begins stalking in your direction again. Every footstep that falls on the floor feels as though it’s signaling your end, a dark shadow creeping closer that is just barely visible on the ground and wall to your side, outside of the chair and blanket’s cover. In a surprising moment of clarity, you realize that he will find you within seconds and that you, at this very moment alone, have a jumpstart on choosing whether to fight, flight, or freeze your way out of this situation. Freezing won’t do you any good, and there’s no way you can overpower him, so you resolve to flee to a different part of the house the moment that he spots you. You hope that you can take him by surprise and make him pause long enough to make it out of eyesight and into another hiding spot. It’s not much, but it’s really all you can think of right now.
Before you can make any other considerations, it happens. The chair that was protectively in front of you one moment is completely gone in the next, tossed aside recklessly without even being touched. You’re metaphorically naked to the open air, and without so much as sparing a glance at your monster, you leap away from the wall as though you were shot out of a cannon and sprint full force towards the nearby staircase. You hear a sound of surprise behind you but don’t dare to look back, reaching out to grab onto the handrail before you begin bounding up the stairs, taking two at a time. As you reach the first platform and prepare to turn the corner to climb higher, you hear a loud SLAM that shakes the entire house around you. You turn your head towards the sound on instinct, and see in your peripheral vision that Beetlejuice just rammed his entire body sideways and shoulders-first into the wall at the bottom of the stairs due to how fast and recklessly he was pursuing you, like an animal that forgets to control its speed during a hunt and overshoots its leap. Within the blink of an eye, he’s crouched at the bottom of the stairs in a posture that strikes your fleeing brain as odd, before he begins crawling up the stairs on all fours at alarming speeds, bounding upwards and coming right at you. You swiftly round the corner to the higher set of stairs as he scrambles upwards, but you can tell he’s gaining on you at a pace that makes your stomach drop.
You haul yourself up the last few stairs and into the hallway that most of the bedrooms connect to. It’s a long, narrow hall with multiple doors branching off of it and an impressively tall, lovely gothic window at the end of the hall that stretches nearly from floor to ceiling and beautifully frames the rain, which is still pouring down torrentially outside and running down the glass in thick racing streams. You distantly recognize that your plan to get out of his sight and hide will not be panning out, so you quickly pivot to a new, much worse plan: get to your room and lock the door. Certainly, that will keep the monster out.
With no time to lose, you book it towards your closed door at the very end of the hallway, placed just to the right of the large window. You try to ignore the sound of an inbound demon close behind you, your feet carrying you as fast as they’re able. The hallway seems to stretch unnaturally long in front of you, and you wonder if this is one of Beetlejuice’s illusions or if your brain is just playing tricks on you in your escape. You’re trapped running endlessly as the rain in front of you buffets itself against the window, as though it too was trying to come in and attack you, until finally, your outstretched hand makes contact with your doorknob and moves to turn the knob. It jiggles rigidly against your twisting hand. Locked.
In that moment, you feel clawed hands grab your shoulders and force you down to the ground. You land solidly but not painfully, your face being firmly pushed up against the impeccably clean wood flooring. You struggle against Beetlejuice, but he answers by pressing his entire body against your backside forcefully. Your torso fully pinned down, you instinctively kick your legs and try to bend your arms backwards in an attempt to grab or push him off. Your hand finds his own arm that is braced against the floor, fruitlessly grabbing onto and pulling at it to offset his balance, but finding out very quickly just how strong he truly is. After letting you exert yourself trying to push and pull his arms with both hands, he grabs both of your wrists in one swift motion and holds them both behind your back, trapping you fully in place as you feel his hard cock press up against your ass through your clothes. A mean cackle rings out behind you, where you cannot see. You feel his cold breath wrap itself around your ear.
“Aw, aren’t you so cute trying to get away from me? But what’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the dark? Aren’t you worried that something in here might eat you alive?” His voice and breath are making your head spin, and Beetlejuice only adds to your dizziness when he decides to flip you over without warning to look at him. The large window looms high above his figure, the low light from the storm giving you just enough natural light to see details in his face now. The gleeful madness in his eyes makes your hips twitch uselessly, pinned under his full weight as he moves to better straddle you. Though he still has his usual clothes on, his cock is out and fully erect against your thigh, already wet with precum from when he was shamelessly touching himself during the hunt. “Although, you might like the thought of a demon eating you alive more than you’d care to admit, hm? You wouldn’t have agreed to my game otherwise.”
You let out a quiet groan as his hands crawl up to the hem of your shirt collar, and before you can register what he’s doing, his claws are shredding the entire shirt from top to bottom in one swift motion. The fabric tears with a salaciously loud ripping sound, revealing your chest underneath, and Beetlejuice responds by quickly bringing his mouth to your newly-exposed skin. He keeps slowly sliding the fabric off of you bit by bit with his claws, until it’s completely off of your body and his teeth begin to bite down on your collarbone. You gasp and writhe against him, shaking as his sharp teeth tease at breaking the skin of your tender flesh. He alternates between soft nibbles at your throat to harsher bites where your neck and shoulders meet, keeping you on your toes as he ravishes your half-naked body. You feel his hand come up to play with your nipples, pinching and rolling them under his clawed fingers in a way that makes your back arch under him. Noticing your reaction, he moves his head down and sticks his forked tongue out to slowly drag it across your other nipple. After all of this buildup, you feel as though you’re already on the edge before he’s even taken your shorts off.
“F-fuck, Beetlejuice…” You reach your hand up to become tangled in his messy hair as usual, until his own hand catches yours by the wrist right before you can touch him.
“Watch it with my name tonight, babes,” he hisses. There’s a darkness shrouding his face right now since he’s facing away from the low light of the stormy window, his hungry expression sparking a hurricane of its own in you. “And don’t think you can try your usual tricks and turn me into your bitch again. You were mean to me and lost my game, so now you’re my bitch tonight.” He leans down to purr his next words into the side of your neck. “How’s that feel?” Before you can answer, he’s biting into the soft flesh, tongue peeking out to get a taste of your skin, and possibly a few drops of blood.
You practically mewl at his ministrations, a deeply humiliating sound that you didn’t even know you could make. If that’s a sign of what’s to come tonight, I don’t know whether to be excited or scared. I feel like I’m learning to do both at the same time really well, though.
Beetlejuice pauses his lapping at your neck to flash you a smug, knowing look. “Already need it that bad, babes? You’re so cute. Want me to go ahead make you cum for me right now?” His voice still has that unearthly quality to it, a low undertone beneath his words that turns you on more than you’d care to admit as it rumbles through your entire body and sends bursts of electricity up your spine.
“Yes…”
“Yes, what?” His eyes glimmer with joyful control. Fast learner.
“Please,” you choke out, grinding your hips upwards to try and find friction against his towering form.
Beetlejuice puts a finger up to his lips in mock thought. “Hmm, lemme think about it…uh, no.” He laughs at whatever expression immediately takes over your face at these words. “I really enjoyed hearing you ask nicely though!” If his cruel laughter isn’t enough, his cock rubbing against your thigh makes it all too obvious how much he’s reveling in being able to turn your own words against you.
“Y-you’re a dick…” You can barely spit the words out without your voice wavering and betraying your true feelings.
His eyes narrow at you, smile unchanged. “Oh-ho, am I now? And what if I left you tied up without touching you for hours on end, just a pent-up, whining mess, stuck here with nothing to fill you up? If I’m a dick now, what would I be then?” He looks up with faux thoughtfulness. “Hm, well, I guess I’d be whatever you are, since that’s basically what you did to me.” His word delivery is sharp enough to cut, but you can read his tone well enough to tell that he’s not genuinely angry about the whole situation, he wouldn’t be so willing to play with you if he was. Definitely sexually frustrated enough to add some fire to his words, though.
“Do you want me to say sorry? Because I’m not sorry.” Pushing your luck with Beetlejuice is like an extreme sport to you at this point.
The demon chuckles darkly. “Give it time.” Moving on quickly, he stands up above you, clothes suddenly vanished from his body in the blink of an eye. “Up, my little marionette.”
With a slight flick of his fingers, your body is pulled up into a kneeling position in front of where he stands. It feels as if your body is being held taut by invisible strings, the position not fully uncomfortable, but not quite how you’d settle yourself if you were in control here. Clearly, you are not.
Beetlejuice coos at you, as much as he’s able to with his warped voice. “Aww, not what you were expecting? Did you think I was just gonna fuck you right away after all that? Somebody forgot about my promises to use them for myself if I caught them.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you had the self control to actually do any- use me…!” If you could slap a hand over your mouth, you would. You settle for snapping your jaw shut immediately, a bewildered expression surely plastered on your face. Your cheeks burn hot as you realize what you just said, or rather, what you were made to say. If the breathy tone that was sorely missing your own personal inflection on the words didn’t tip you off, Beej’s shit-eating grin above you would have. Not only do you not have control of your body, but your voice is his to play with as well.
“What’s that, my little breather? You really want me to use you?” His voice takes on another tone, one of somebody playing pretend, like how someone would pretend to talk to a toy in a game. It doesn’t talk long to realize that you’re essentially reduced to a living, breathing doll for him in this moment. Demeaning as it is, you shamefully clock that you’re weirdly into it, but you wouldn’t share this with him right now even if you could.
Your feel your mouth twist with words that come as a surprise to you upon leaving your lips yet again. “Yes, oh, please use me, BJ…! You’re so sexy, so handsome, such a big, strong demon…I wanna make you cum so many times that I lose count, I wanna be yours to use forever, I don’t even care if I get to cum at all, I don’t deserve to for being so mean to you!” Your hands run down your sides seductively of their own accord as your mouth finishes its speaking. It feels a bit silly to do, but you don’t really have much say in it at the moment, and Beetlejuice doesn’t seem to care if it’s a bit over-the-top from the way drool is currently pooling at the corners of his mouth. None of the words that you moaned out really belonged to you, but you kinda like that you can say such obscene things and just blame it on him later. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t onboard with most of them already, aside from that last statement.
Beetlejuice laughs, licking his lips with a forked tongue. “Aw, aren’t you just a good little toy?” He takes a step towards you, his dick bobbing at eye level in front of you, seemingly a bit larger than usual and…is that ribbing? Yes, you definitely aren’t mistaken, his cock has ridges crawling up all sides, swirling around in mesmerizing patterns that reach up to his swollen head. Some jut out like small, dull spikes, while others are more like closely-placed ribbed lines that remind you of a winding path. Your eyes widen at the discovery as your head leans in expectantly, and this time, you’re not sure if it was you or him that initiated that movement. To test your level of control, you try to roll your shoulders experimentally, and they obey without issue. With this, you can confidently conclude that you at least have a bit of influence over your upper half, though your legs are still forced firmly into a kneeling position.
Before you can do anything yourself with this discovery, his hand reaches out to grab a fistful of your hair and your heart rate immediately quickens in your chest. His grip is forceful but meticulous as he pulls your head forward even more, claws scratching at your scalp in a way that makes you heartbeat drop to the space between your thighs. His impatient guidance makes his neediness apparent, and you grin up at him through your eyelashes. Before he can say anything about how long you’re taking, you open your mouth and lean in to slowly lick his cock from base to tip, selfishly drinking in the shudder that you’re able to pull from him. Even when he’s supposed to be your monster, you can still find your own little ways of asserting dominance. Beetlejuice always runs chilly, but his cock feels even more so than usual, to the point where you would describe it as actively cold, though not enough to be uncomfortable. The ridges feel strange but not unpleasant against your tongue as you go in for another taste, and you shiver to think about how they would feel inside of your wet cunt. You move to mouth and kiss at his length teasingly, purposefully not giving him all of the stimulation he so clearly wants right away.
The grip on your hair tightens to the point of stinging. “If you’re not gonna do it right, I can just do it myself,” he hisses, panting above you with a poisonous glare aimed down at you below. You hardly have time to register how pretty he looks when he’s mad before he’s changed his position and begins fucking into your mouth at an absolutely brutal pace. Your eyes shoot open in shock as his hand holds your head securely in place by a fistful of hair, forcing you to breathe through your nose as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. It’s desperate, and frustrated, and monstrous. It’s exactly what he promised you. The extra size and new textures make his dick feel even more thick than usual in your mouth, and you marvel at the fact that you’re even able to fit as much of it inside as you currently are. Your eyes water as you try to suppress your gag reflex when he hits the back of your throat once, twice, three times. On the fourth time, it’s too much to fight and you gag, causing him to pause mid-thrust and look down at you quizzically. “Too much for you already, babes?” His voice is far too cheery for your taste, and his imposing form leers over you with bemused intrigue.
You tightly shake your head no, mouth too full at the moment to say any words even if your brain was capable of forming them.
Beetlejuice barks out a laugh, lightning pouring through the window to momentarily frame his facial features, all crinkled in amusement. “Ah, this is why I love you, doll. You just don’t know when to quit.” He pulls his cock from your mouth with an emphatic pop and you instead feel the unseeable pull of your limbs by his influence once again. Except, this time, he has a hold on all of you but your mouth and eyes. “But y’know, anything you can do, I can do better.”
Your body lurches forward without your permission, your right hand wrapping itself around the base of Beetlejuice’s cock and beginning to pump up and down his entire length. Meanwhile, your left hand chooses to come up to cup his balls, fondling and massaging at a separate pace. It might’ve been difficult to keep each hand’s motion and pace straight, if not for the fact that you were currently being possessed by a demon to do it. It was not unlike being asked to pat your head and rub your stomach, except that you don’t actually have to put any work into it at all and also you are having sex. Your mental comparisons are interrupted by your head positioning itself over his cock, lips parting to take him in and promptly closing to form a vacuum seal around him. Once your mouth is on him, you feel the pull of your demon’s power begin to bob your head up and down as much of his length as you’re able. Your hands continue their work, but your right hand pumps only the area between the base of his shaft and the lowest point that your lips can reach. Your ministrations continue at a fast and unwavering speed, and if your brain wasn’t completely overtaken by lust, you would be impressed with how efficiently he’s been able to turn you into his perfect little blowjob machine. You can feel that this is a persuasive but breakable possession, and it’s endearing to know that he left you an out so you could break his tether to you if you needed to. But deep down, you know you won’t be testing that ability out right now, not when he’s making such pretty noises above you.
Your eyes, maybe one of the only things still under your easy control, flit up to look at him as your mouth and hands continue their work. Beetlejuice looks down at you through lidded eyes, his concentration obviously torn between possessing you and getting his cock worked so thoroughly. His hair is a messy fire on his head, all red and fuchsia twisted together like a beautiful mixing of watercolors on a soft, shaggy canvas. He lets out an unsteady exhale above you, obviously very close, but trying to hide his usual whines and whimpers that would signal he was approaching the edge. Instead, he opts for a shaky moan from deep within his chest, unable to hold back as he begins to thrust up into your mouth to meet your lips as they come down. Just as it’s all starting to become a bit overwhelming, he shudders above you with a muffled high-pitched sound, and your movements become sloppy and ungraceful all at once as he finishes in your mouth. You could move off of his cock if you wanted to, but instead, you stay in place and greedily catch as much of his cum in your mouth as you can, shivering at how surprisingly cold it feels as you swallow it down your throat. It shouldn’t have been that shocking considering how extra chilly his dick had been, but you’re still taken aback by the temperature as you suck him dry, the slight sweetness still ever-present. Eventually, his dick stops twitching, and the demon above you seems to be quietly coming back down after his orgasm before he erupts into a guttural growl.
“Not enough, not enough,” Beetlejuice snarls, partially to himself and partially at you. “You made me wait so goddamn long, now it’s still not enough.” He squeezes his eyes shut and rakes a clawed hand through his hair, pushing it back from his furrowed brow as he vigorously shakes his head back and forth in frustration, growling and murmuring to himself. You hold yourself very still, watching silently as he seems to argue with himself about something internally. After a moment of thought, his eyelids flutter open again and he slowly turns his gaze onto you. His dark brown eyes look to be on the verge of crazed, the slits of his pupils moving down from meeting your own eyes to leer at your half-naked body. You manage to catch the way his pupils blow out wide as he continues to undress you with his eyes, despite the darkness making him seem very much like a moving shadow whenever the lightning outside pauses. Despite having cum just moments ago, he has the look of a ravenous man staring at a feast.
You sit back on your haunches, looking up at his pretty face with mock innocence. “Not enough, huh? What’re you gonna do about it?”
Beetlejuice can’t hide his grin at your insolence. “Patience, little bird. There’s really no need to goad me on, I’m not nearly done playing with you yet.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at the irony of him telling you to be patient, ignoring the fact that your stomach is currently filled with butterflies at his words. His strings of control now fully dissipated, he steps forward with a renewed power and looks you over with a fanged smirk. He looks for a moment as though he wants to say something, but instead, he moves to crouch down to your level and crashes his lips against yours. The kiss rocks you to your core, all tongue and teeth on his end, which you do your best to imitate. In the end, it’s only more clear how horribly outmatched you currently are, his strength and demonic features easily overpowering your pathetic human body. As he shoves his forked tongue into your mouth roughly, you are struck by the chilling realization that every time you’ve been taking control up until now, it’s only because Beetlejuice has been letting you. The thought is enough to make you clench tightly around nothing, aching with desire.
After he’s satisfied with the kiss, he pulls back from your lips and reaches down to grab your legs by the calves, pulling them out from under you in one swift motion and making you fall backwards onto your butt with an undignified thump. He settles himself between your legs, grabbing the soft skin on the inner sides of your knees and spreading them wide to make room for his larger form. He continues to spread so far that you can feel your hamstrings stretching, a dull but satisfying ache in your muscles as they tighten at their limit. Once he’s carved a space for himself, Beetlejuice slowly begins to crawl his hands upwards from where they rest by your knees along your inner thighs, his claws lightly skating across your sensitive skin. You squirm and giggle lightly at the sensation, simultaneously too much and not enough. He finally reaches the bottom of your shorts and, wasting no time, shreds through the fabric as if it were tissue paper. The pieces of what used to be your shorts fall pathetically from your body, no longer recognizable anything but scraps anymore. As they fall off, you recognize with surprise that your underwear was also fully ripped off of you in the same movement, fluttering down to the floor in tattered pieces and leaving you fully naked.
Beetlejuice’s monstrous persona drops ever so slightly as he can’t quite hide the sheepish expression that finds its way onto his face. “Oh, oops? Overshot that. Hope those weren’t your favorite pair or anything.” He gets over his moment with a devious chuckle and is quickly back to studying your fully exposed body, all spread out in front of him and ready to be devoured. “Gotta make sure you’re ready to take me, strictly business here, y’know. Try not to moan like a bitch in heat too much. ‘S embarrassing for you.” As he’s speaking, you watch Beetlejuice lift his right hand and slowly retract the claws of his index and middle finger until they’re completely gone, only his regular short black nails where the claws once were. Without leaving you any time to make a snarky comment, he’s plunging them into your entrance.
“Ah…!” You keen as you finally receive the stimulation you’ve been craving all night, even if it is so much all at once. When the shock of him pressing into you quickly fades, it’s only immediately replaced by another, even more jarring shock: his fingers are ice cold inside of you. You yelp, unsure whether to pull away or beg him to push them farther inside. His unnaturally chilly fingers are curling against your walls, making your hips stutter and eyes squeeze shut as you try to steady yourself from the sensory overload.
“Aww, what’s the matter?” he coos with a sickly sweet smile, sticking a third finger inside of your pussy. You arch your back and whine desperately in response. “You look kinda conflicted there, babes…too cold for you?”
You wrestle for control of your words. “N-no,” you eventually spit out at him. It’s a sad attempt at lying to a very perceptive demon.
Beetlejuice grins. “You’re a stubborn little breather, aren’t you?” He keeps rubbing against the spot that has you seeing stars like he owns it. “That, or you’re just a freak who gets off on everything I do. Because I honestly did this to be an asshole, but you are definitely liking it way more than I expected. I can see it in your cute little face.” You tighten around his fingers as he speaks. “Heh, and that too.”
“Fuck off…” It’s a new kind of embarrassing to have Beetlejuice call you a freak for getting off on something, but honestly, that just gets you off even more, proving his point. You rock your hips up to meet him, unable to hold back your little gasps as you do. You’re trapped between pleasure and pain, the cold refusing to ebb as he continues fingering you roughly. You squirm helplessly under the seemingly endless barrage of conflicting sensations.
His left hand is suddenly on your lower belly, pressing down to keep you in place. “Quit fuckin’ moving, or I’m gonna tie you down,” he growls, not letting up on his pace as he chastises you.
“Hold me down yourself,” you moan, and the words are out before you even get a chance to think. Those were definitely your own words, though.
The demon’s eyes light up immediately. “Ohh, I see, you want me to hold you down and fingerfuck you ‘til you beg for mercy? Well, if that’s what you want.”
He’s behind you in the blink of an eye, erection fully hard once again if the way it presses up against your naked back is any indication. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and lifts them up and back to wrap around his neck, still bound together tightly. It’s almost a romantic pose, with your body reclined back against his and your arms holding his head close to your body, his nose pressed into your neck and beard prickling against it as well. His free hand snakes around your waist to press your torso even closer against him before returning his fingers to your dripping cunt. The freezing pleasure returns, a feeling you had been dreading and felt so empty without. He’s pumping his fingers into you at the same quick pace, picking up right where he left off. He presses into your clit with his thumb, chuckling darkly at the cry you let out as he starts rubbing teasing circles into it.
“G-gonna cum…” Your humiliating whimpers only seem to encourage him into moving faster.
“Yeah? You close? I bet you are. You’ve been so wet all night…I could smell it, got all mixed up in my head, wanted to pin you down and take you so bad for hours…” Beetlejuice’s chin is resting on your shoulder, and his long tongue slips out to slither down at your neck and to your chest again. It’s like a prehensile appendage with how it moves and wraps itself around your nipples, but with such a light ghost of a touch against your hard buds that it causes goosebumps to spread themselves across your entire chest. You’d be defiantly squirming against him if not for the fact that your body was being held completely immobile by the demon. His wrist and strong forearm press insistently against your stomach and pubic region, keeping you locked in place with his otherworldly strength. Instead, you just allow the needy sounds to pour out of your mouth, unable to focus on anything besides how utterly and deliciously trapped you are and how fast your orgasm is approaching due to his dexterous fingers. You feel yourself cresting that final hill before he sends you crashing over the peak, your body attempting to fuck yourself down onto his fingers even harder despite your trappings. You can’t see him as your orgasm rocks your body, but you hear him hmph approvingly behind you and can easily imagine the smarmy look on his face at how much he can make you come undone with his hands alone.
You’re still shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm when Beetlejuice swiftly disappears from behind you and reappears with his head between your legs, giving you no time to react before his mouth is between your legs, licking and sucking loudly. You squeal at the pleasure flooding your senses again so soon and squeeze your legs together involuntarily in reaction.
Beetlejuice lifts his head a bit with a hazy smile. “Sorry babes, couldn’t help myself. Just needed a little taste…” You whine as he sucks at your clit forcefully to punctuate his words before pulling his body back up to kneel in front of you. “But I do think you’re just about ready for me after that.”
“Please…” you muster, your head swimming with pleasure. You’re not even completely sure what you’re begging for, but your demon seems to enjoy it.
“Aren’t you so good for me, my little breather? Even when I’m using you for myself, so adorable…” He grabs your chin with his thumb and the forefinger that was pumping inside of you moments ago, appraising whatever expression is plastered on your face and holding your head in place. “It’s not gonna make me be any nicer to you, but it’ll probably make me fill you up faster.” Wasting no time, he pulls back from your face and begins to line his cock up with your entrance.
His words make you realize how quickly Beetlejuice was able to get you to roll over and play nice for him. It’s truthfully embarrassing the speed at which you folded, especially after the multiple times that you’ve teased him now for doing the exact same thing. Maybe he’s right, you’re more like him than you thought. This line of thought passing into your mind reignites your defiant spirit almost instantly.
“Y’know, for all that talk, you kinda suck at being mean to me.” It’s hard to keep the corners of your lips from being pulled upwards when he slowly tilts his head at your words in disbelief. “The meanest thing you could think to do is make me cum my brains out around your somewhat-chilly fingers. Kinda sweet for an evil demon, that’s all. Can’t bring yourself to do any worse?”
Beetlejuice’s cute expression of positive bewilderment begins melting into one of resolve mixed with pure, carnal desire. “You make such terrible decisions sometimes, it’s so fuckin’ hot.” He punctuates this statement by thrusting his cock up into you, stealing the next witty retort from your lips and leaving only a breathy gasp in its absence. It’s an intense stretch over his morphed length, and even after being worked open by his fingers, the sudden penetration is more than enough to shut you up as you adjust. He grabs your neck, firmly enough to tilt your head as he pleases. “I’m gonna eat you alive, little bird.”
You meet his blazing-hot gaze readily. “Promise?”
Beetlejuice grins as he chooses for once to let his actions do the talking, his only response being to start fucking into you at a quick and steady pace. His cock is clearly bigger than usual, but still fits without issue after the first stretch. You note that it’s the texture that makes the experience just as unique and fantastic as you’d hoped, his ridges rubbing against your walls as though they were designed to pleasure you specifically (and for all you know, this could be absolutely true). The cold remains a common factor throughout the encounter, and one that you certainly don’t hate, despite its initial purpose. The cold spreads out from your core to crawl all over your body, reminding you just how much influence he has over you. It’s all so strange and wonderful and it’s having no trouble in making you see stars already.
Your back is pressed firmly against the floor, giving you another beautiful view of Beetlejuice framed in front of the tall window as he sets a rhythm with his motions. Lightning highlights the outline of his frame every few seconds, visibly straining as he tries to give you more without losing himself in you completely. You try to take a second and memorize how pretty his face is in this moment, really commit everything here to memory. The way his eyebrows knit together as he works at opening you up, biting at his lip with sharp fangs that you assume must hurt, but he gives no indication if it does. The hand that was lightly gripping at your throat loses its solid grip as his fingers stretch out and stroke down your neck, his palm spreading wide and coming to rest directly above your heart, claws resting along the length of your collarbone. Every thrust into you, every touch of his hands on your warm skin, it’s all so maddening and cruel and perfect all at once.
His eyes peek open slightly and flit to your face, lids still half-covering the pools of dark brown. “Quit lookin’ at me all sweet like that, you’re the one who said you wanted rough mean monster sex.”
“Sorry,” you breathe, averting your eyes from his lovely visage to get back into character but unable to hide the way the corners of your lips curl up fondly.
“You’d better be.” He huffs with a smirk, before putting the charm back on. “Now, you said you could keep up with a demon, so let’s see if you were right or if I can make a liar outta you tonight.” He practically spits the word “liar,” clearly both something you should be ashamed of being and something that you desperately want him to prove that you were when you said that. He moves both of his hands down to your hips for leverage, grabbing onto the skin so forcefully that you’re certain it’ll leave a bruise. With you secure in his grasp, he’s holding your lower half steady so he can keep you perfectly in place while he fucks you, an anchor to you for your monster.
Still riding off the high of your recent first orgasm, you can feel your second building already at an exponential rate. You gasp as your walls clench around him, tightening around his cock as it keeps brushing against just the right spot inside of you, the ridges doing everything right for you. Before you know it, you’re already cumming around his dick, the squelches of him continuing to fuck you through your orgasm sounding utterly obscene with how wet you are for him. You ride it out with small moans and praises pouring from your lips, until the fountain of your words begins to run dry as he continues to fuck you at the same unwavering pace.
“You just came again? Okay, well, I haven’t cum again yet, so you can just be fuckin’ patient.” You feel that dawning horror that you’ve been waiting so long for wash over you as you realize that he does not in fact plan on giving you any semblance of a break here. Instead, he grabs both of your thighs and pushes them up to fold back on top of your body, removing the obstacle for him and ending with you opening yourself even wider for him.
“B-Beetlejuice,” you gasp, the overstimulation beginning to take hold as the last of your previous orgasm ebbs away, causing you to shudder and twitch involuntarily as he refuses to let up in his motions. “I’m so- FUCK!” Your words are unable to leave your tongue as his mouth begins biting at your neck insistently. His mouth moves with no rhythm compared to his thrusts, all wild instinct with no discernible pattern as he kisses and bites from your collarbone to your jawline, savoring the taste of you and the sounds you make at the overwhelming, overlapping sensations.
“You say something, babes? Couldn’t quite hear ya…” He switches it up by nibbling along your throat before ending his trail with a harsh bite to the side of your neck. “Were you gonna say that I was right and that I’m too much for your little human body to handle?”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling of his teeth on you. “Shit, I take it back, you really are evil.” He would be the one to make sex into a competition. A game, your mind chimes in to correct you. Always the games with him. You have been quite the fan of his rigged games tonight, why change your tune now when he’s ruining you so well? “Don’t you dare stop.”
Your words make him chuckle and become only rougher in his movements. “Gonna fill you up,” Beetlejuice pants as his teeth graze the tip of your ear, clearly on the edge himself. “Gonna cum inside you ‘til you can’t take anymore. Bet you’d like that. Bet you wanna have my cum dripping out of your needy little cunt for days.” Your answer comes out as nothing more than a strangled, horny sound, but it seems to get your agreement across as the demon grins wildly, his thrusts becoming erratic as his eyes are flooded with pure desire looking down at you. His head falls to rest on your shoulder as he continues, and you can feel him mouthing something into your skin, but it takes a few moments before you can make out what he’s saying, faint as a whispered prayer. “Mine, mine, mine.” He punctuates each word with a forceful thrust, your heart somehow finding a way to race even faster at this realization. His final utterance of the word is choked into a shaky moan halfway through, his predictably yet still shockingly cold cum filling you to the brim in the best way. It’s way more than you expected, pumping inside of you at high speeds and completely filling you with him. If your mind were a bit sharper right now, you’d probably marvel at just how much there is, you can tell just by feel the practically obscene amounts that are leaking out of your entrance and onto the floor. You close your eyes for a moment to try and bring yourself back to Earth. Your muscles burn with exertion, and you can’t stop the full-body tremors that keep wracking your smaller frame. Not that you have enough energy to even attempt to suppress them.
You don’t have more than a moment’s rest before you feel something cool and slightly wet rubbing against your leg, and you crack open your eyes and see a thick, black and white appendage prodding at you. The striped extremity crawls over your body slowly, caressing your outer thigh before stretching itself over you to pet at your inner thigh as well, wrapping you up in its grasp. You can only think to respond with a perplexed gaze at the thing before looking up at Beetlejuice inquisitively.
He looks all too proud of himself above you, the appendage clearly sprouting from him, more specifically, somewhere behind him…his back perhaps, but it’s hard to tell in this lighting. “Hey, I’ve never shown you my tentacles, have I? At least, I haven’t shown you what they can really do…” When your gaze looks back down, two more tentacles have joined the first, stroking and caressing at your slick flesh.
“B-Beetlejuice, it’s too much, I don’t know if I can…” Your body is simultaneously crying out for rest yet also desperately vying for the attention of the tentacles as they rub themselves over your form teasingly.
He actually has the gall to snicker. “Oh come on now, you can take much more than that, don’t be a quitter. Unless…you’re really admitting you can’t keep up with me? That you’re not as unaffected as you might make yourself out to be? That you were wrong and are now in over your little head?” He pokes you in the center of your forehead to emphasize his teasing in the most annoying way possible.
As though immediately possessed by a different sort of force, you feel a second wind rushing into your entire body, filling you with a new, stubborn resolve. “In your dreams, hellspawn.” You meet his eyes obstinately, hoping that your demeanor portrays yourself as less dazed and fucked-out-of-your-mind than you really are right now. In the end, your competitiveness will always win.
He chuckles, looking rather unfazed by your sharp response. “Still got that much of a fighting spirit, huh? Bet I can break that.”
At his command, three more tentacles emerge from behind him and move towards your reclined body. With six of them visible to you now, they move almost hypnotically as they stroke at your skin, all six moving as if of their own free will as they each take to a different task. You feel two wrap around each of your calves, and one more secures your wrists together. They pull you up to sit on your haunches, the cool wood flooring below starting to feel less pleasant than it did when he first caught you and pressed you against it. Your arms are pulled up and over your head, and you simply let them pull your limbs wherever they see fit without fight. You’re perched as though about to ride an invisible dick, and the position makes you very aware of how gravity is causing more of his cum to slowly drip out of you, mixed with your own wetness. The remaining three tentacles prod at your stretched torso, two settling to rub your nipples gently while the other one crawls down toward your hips. You keen at the contact, watching the slick appendages delicately rub over your chest and wondering exactly how much direct control Beetlejuice has over them versus how much they’re piloted by just subconscious desire without direction. Your eyes flicker up to take him in for the first time since being restrained, and his expression is one of a man watching a most riveting show, cartoonish tongue lolling slightly out of his involuntary smile at your current predicament. He’s crouched across from you in a similar yet freer position, mirroring your body but leaning forward to really take it all in. You feel the free tentacle begin to snake its way to your stomach, sending a thrill up your spine as it strokes down, down, down, until it’s right where you need it. You whimper wordlessly at the contact, mind swirling with sensation.
“God, I’m so happy you’re the kind of sick degenerate that’s into this,” Beetlejuice breathes, making you shivers as he tugs at his half-hard cock shamelessly. Despite being well-aware of what BJ told you about demon sex drives, it’s sort of blowing your mind to see him so immediately ready to go like this, again and again, acting as though everything before was nothing more than warm-up. Damn. No wonder he is the way that he is.
Taking you out of your thoughts is the tentacle giving attention to the space between your thighs, its stark black-and-white surface contrasting with your skin beneath it even in the window’s dim light. The tentacles holding your legs spread them wider to make room, and the appendage responds by bringing its tip up to your clit, pressing in gently but with enough pressure to have your body at full attention. Just when you think you’re spent, he’s got you bucking your hips under his touch again, desperate for more of his attention. Beetlejuice seems more than pleased with your reaction.
“I-I can’t believe you’ve held out on me so long,” you gasp, the tentacle dragging itself torturously slow as it traces up and down from your clit to your opening. “I mean, it’s only been like, a week, but that’s practically 1000 years in terms of your patience.” The tentacles stroking your nipples instead tug at them abruptly, swiftly putting you back in your place with a shaky whimper.
Beetlejuice looks at you with half-lidded eyes and a dumb smile. “Aww, I’m so glad to hear ya like ‘em. I didn’t wanna freak you out too soon, but I should’ve known you’d be enough of a whore to just bend over and let me take you however I wanted to.” You keen as you feel the tentacle on your clit move to your entrance, all wet with some nondescript substance that might’ve grossed you out if he showed it to you in any other context. There’s hardly even a stretch compared to his cock as it pushes into you, but it still reaches exactly where it needs to with how dextrous and long it is. “You wanted to be chased. You wanted to be caught. And yeah, I know you wanted to be used. How could you not, when you take it sooooo well?” His lovely purring words rattle around in your head as the tentacle inside of you pumps itself into your clenched core, rubbing exactly where it knows you want it to and making you grit your teeth as though about to go mad. “God, you’re so perfect. Look so fuckin’ pretty right now, don’t know what I did to deserve you. I won’t let you down, I’m gonna milk every orgasm you have out of you and not gonna stop ‘til you’re absolutely ruined, babes. You’re gonna regret asking me to be meaner to you.”
You whine miserably at his words, his own excitement and arousal only amplifying yours. You hump against the tentacle as it keeps up its regular pace, riding it like a cock as much as you can with your arms and legs restrained. Taking another glance at Beetlejuice, you notice that another tentacle had sprouted from his back when you were lost in his words and came down to rest on his own dick, curling itself around the length from base to tip and moving itself up and down rapidly, getting him off as he leans back and watches you intently. You grind yourself down onto the tentacle inside of you harder at this, getting off to the image of him being caressed by his own tentacles just as much as he is for you. He notices you reacting in this way and flashes you a grin, the unmistakable grin of someone who’s all too happy to be ogled. Damn exhibitionist. He then lets out a very familiar whimper, sharply contrasting his dominant front from a moment ago. You could recognize that specific sound anywhere.
“Are you fucking yourself in the ass with your own tentacles?” Your voice is strained, but the tone is somewhere between incredulous and amused.
His whimper melts into a breathy moan, his teeth snapping off the end of the sound by clicking together into a satisfied grin. “You know me so well, doll.” Sure enough, Beetlejuice leans forward and arches his back from where he had been resting on his haunches in front of you, and you can see another tentacle placed behind him that is thrusting up into his ass at a steady speed, the first tentacle continuing to pump his cock at a breakneck pace.
The mere sight of Beetlejuice getting so thoroughly worked by his own tentacles as your own stimulation refuses to let up is pleasurable enough to make you clench tightly around the appendage, your legs shaking as you cum around it and get roughly fucked through your orgasm. You feel your ears ringing as this one rolls out of you in waves, feeling so good and yet so, so much. It takes its time running through your entire body, but as it begins to ebb, you whine as you realize that the tentacles aren’t letting up. They continue to perform their motions like a dutiful machine, rubbing at your nipples, fucking up into your thoroughly used pussy, holding you perfectly in place despite your squirming. You’re still completely open to the appendages, no way to even curl up and hide yourself from their touches.
“Beetlejuice…” you practically sob, overstimulation causing your entire body to shake as the tentacle rubs itself against your g-spot, prodding at you for more as if it doesn’t understand why you’re so spent.
From your position, you can see the demon laugh at your predicament. “Aw, poor little thing. You’ve got about one more in you before you totally break, I bet.” You choke out an anguished sound at his cooing words, plus the fact that the pace of the tentacles hasn’t let up in the slightest, and he regards you with a raised brow. “Color?”
You take in a shuddering breath, knowing that you could easily end things here with a single word. But goddamnit, you are not giving him the satisfaction. You’ll go until exhaustion forcibly takes you if you must, your pride demands it. “Green.”
The unbearably overwhelming sensations are immediately made worth it by the utterly flabbergasted look that crosses your demon’s face, eyes widening as he receives an answer that he clearly didn’t expect. It’s quickly replaced by an impressed little smirk, all lust and pride and amusement wrapped into one sharp smile. “Heh, yep, that’s the breather I fell for. You’re too much of a stubborn little glutton for punishment to quit, just like me. Well, lucky for you, that’s in no short supply right now.” He moves toward you from where he had been leaned back on his haunches, and it’s immediately clear by the spattering of glowing green on his stomach that he himself has cum at least once under the tentacle that continues rubbing at his cock, and you feel a slight twinge of regret that you didn’t get to see his debauched expression as he came. To lift your spirits, you silently file away the idea of having him tied up and forced to cum over and over by his own tentacles while you get to watch as a fun idea for later. For now, Beetlejuice moves up to watch you closer, bringing his body right in front of your trapped form as the tentacles keep working the both of you.
You squirm as much as the restraints and your energy levels allow under his gaze. He’s watching your face intently, as though trying to see something in your slack-jawed expression. Then, you’re tilting backwards, as if doing a trust fall that you have no choice but to trust in as your body leans backwards, knees spread apart but still firmly on the floor as your back stretches tightly. Another tentacle comes to support your neck and back as you continue to be coaxed backwards by your restraints, until your knees lift ever so slightly off of the ground and you’re practically being cradled in a tentacle hammock with your limbs still restrained, but as comfortable as they can be in this situation.
“What a perfect little present all wrapped up for me after that long chase…” Beetlejuice briefly surveys the situation, his patience clearly maxed out by now but perception still sharp as ever as he scans you for any reaction. He must find whatever he’s looking for, because you see only a joyful flash of teeth before he’s biting your inner thigh and ripping more pitiful sounds from your tired throat against your will.
You flinch and whimper a bit at the sudden piercing pain, but you couldn’t move away if you wanted to. In all honesty, you probably couldn’t bring yourself to move even if you weren’t being restrained, not at this point. Another bite to your thigh, slightly gentler and closer to where you need his mouth. You dare a glance down at him and immediately find yourself trying to stifle your tremors and trembling, his firm grasp on you as intoxicating as the image of a demon looking so absolutely possessive between your thighs, in every sense of the word.
His smile is as all-consuming as ever. “And I think I’ll get a better taste of my prey now, heh.” His tongue is pressed against your clit within the second, the entire length of it slipping out of his mouth for nothing more than to rile you up. He knows it will; it did so well the first time, and every time after, and it unsurprisingly works like a charm today too. He laps at you hungrily, his long tongue having already proven itself to be perfect for eating you out. The fact that it now has a perfect little fork at the end only adds to the experience. You’ve simply had to make peace with the fact that his demonic features have completely ruined you for anyone else, and you can’t bring yourself to be upset about that at all. Not right now, when his forked tongue is stroking up and down your clit at the perfect pace, your trapped hands grabbing at the tentacles beneath them for stability as though they were bedsheets. They only tremble and continue to ooze even more as you grip them, a strange but clear sign of pleasure if Beetlejuice’s rumbling groans weren’t obvious enough.
He allows his tongue to wander between your clit and your entrance, and it’s so long that it can reach both spots at once when pressed up against you. He lets a whiny moan slip out as he keeps up the pace. “Fuck…I can taste myself in you…hey, you’re welcome for being so delicious…” Of course he’s still finding a way to brag, even with his mouth busy. You wouldn’t be shocked if he figured out a way to continue working your clit while also tongue fucking you, and then gloat how talented he is at getting you off without changing his pace at all. He’s a talented multitasker, clearly.
You’d normally have a much more eloquent comeback to his boasting comments, but you’re honestly shocked at how much Beetlejuice has absolutely fucked you out of your mind by now. You can barely string together a complete thought, let alone speak a coherent sentence. You feel like you’ve been thoroughly used up, in the best way. From the moment he offered you that deal, you wanted to be defiled by a monster until you’re nothing but a fucked-out little plaything for him to use as he pleases, and he has more than honored that wish. The combination of this thought and the maddening feeling of him lapping at your overstimulated clit is enough to somehow bring you back to the edge again, whining as your muscles tense one final time.
Your body language does not go unnoticed by your monster. “Aw, you gonna cum?” You let out a pathetic whine in response, and he snorts. “Yeah, you would be cumming again. Slut.” He pauses his ministrations to look you in the eye from below, intense lust clouding his pretty eyes. “Say my name, beautiful.”
You practically keen at the sudden denial of stimulation, but do your best to abide. “Beetlejuice…” Your voice is a sinful moan, more shameless and explicit than you’ve ever heard from within yourself. You can’t even bring yourself to feel ashamed or self-conscious about it with how fast Beetlejuice grabs your hips with his sharp claws and thrusts his cock back into you, clearly on the precipice again himself. A few quick, deep thrusts is all it takes for him to be once again filling you up with his load, shaking as he pumps you full of it as though afraid you’d lost too much after the first time he thoroughly bred your cunt. The combination of being so perfectly full of his cum again, the image of the demon holding onto you with both hands and tentacles from above as he finds release, and the feeling of being so completely claimed by the feral monster inside of you is enough to push you over the edge. Your final orgasm tears through you recklessly, just as wild and destructive as the last to your exhausted human body. Waves of tingly pleasure rush through every nerve in your body, clenching and relaxing your muscles as the feeling ebbs and flows throughout your form. Time stands still for you, and you can barely register Beetlejuice pulling out beyond the sensations still rolling through you. As it starts to dissipate, your ears are ringing again and- oh, you can’t see. That’s probably not good. You blink harshly, feeling as though you’re in the aftermath of some kind of explosion to throw off your senses this majorly.
After a few moments of muffled blackness and awful ringing sound, you see bright rays of reality begin to peek through as your body adjusts back to normal. You see a fuzzy image above you, towering over your frame in a way that feels more concerned than menacing, and as the picture begins to clear, you notice the figure’s mouth moving. Your mind returning, you attempt to focus in on what he could be trying to say to you with such a worried little face. Luckily, the world’s sound begins to fade back in as he continues to speak quickly.
“-ey? Hey? C’mon babes, you with me? You’re freakin’ me the fuck out right now, talk to me so I know you’re not heading into the light, please.”
“I’m good,” you murmur, still feeling a bit overwhelmed in coming back to Earth after everything. The tentacles have disappeared in however long it took for your vision to return, and Beetlejuice looks decidedly less monster-y than he did moments ago. The red has all but vanished from his hair, leaving a dusting of dark pink fading into a lighter gradient, with slight yellow streaks of nervousness, and he looks significantly less big and sharp overall as his nervous eyes flicker over your form that sits on the floor below.
Beetlejuice leans down to hold your head to his chest. “Oh, Jesus fuckin’ Christ (Y/N)! You were supposed to say something if it got to be too much!” He pulls back to swiftly look you over. “Gonna give me a heart attack when I’m already dead over here. Jeez.”
You giggle, too exhausted to fully laugh at his antics. “I’m fine, wasn’t too much. A little overwhelming near the end maybe, but I really liked it.”
He snorts. “Well, yeah, that much I could tell. You freaked me out though, I thought I might’ve accidentally factory reset you from fuckin’ ya too rough or something.”
You wave your hand dramatically in a dismissive fashion as you move to sit up, your stomach and thighs shaking with the effort as though you had just finished a particularly brutal set of sit-ups. Well, that’s one way to get in a core workout. “I mean, I’m the one who wanted to try and hold my own against a supernatural being at full power so bad. Dumb mortal physical limitations getting in my way.” You hmph at the idea of human limits, before leaning forward to place your hand on Beetlejuice’s own. “But you did great baby, that was everything I could’ve wanted when you first pitched that idea. I hope it was everything you wanted, too.”
Beetlejuice’s expression softens as he looks at your hand on his own. “Yeah, I had a great time too. Clearly.” His eyes dart down to your utterly spent body almost sheepishly before returning to your own eyes, a shine of strong affection behind his gaze as he speaks in a much more delicate tone. “I really love you a lot. Thanks for bein’ the way you are.” With that, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, a far cry from the roughness that he embodied minutes ago. It’s so tender that his lips only end up lightly grazing your own, and the feeling of his soft lips moving like a whisper on you is the sweetest of kind thank you’s.
“Anything for my sweet little demon,” you breathe, reveling in the mere closeness of him in this ultra-affectionate state.
Beetlejuice shoots you a cute smile before leaning down to pick up your exhausted body as though it weighs nothing to him. “Oh, and if it’s any consolation, you totally earned bragging rights for lasting that long in the sack. I honestly thought you’d tap out after, like, two rounds, and then we’d cuddle.” He tosses and hoists you up into a more secure position in his arms before he starts walking toward your door.
You grab onto the flesh of his shoulders to steady yourself. “What can I stay? l have a strong force of will when I’m with you.” With just a look from the demon, your previously locked door swings open without a care, and he carries you right into your dark room. You whip around and shoot him an inquisitive look. “Wait, was that you before? The lock?”
“Oh, is it that surprising that I outwitted you?” He moves to bite your shoulder teasingly, now more playful than menacing but still with enough teeth to command your attention.
“Ah…a little.”
One of the hands currently wrapped under your legs slides up to pinch your ass, causing you to yelp and Beetlejuice to laugh. “You may be hot shit in your own mind, but never forget that you’re easy prey to a demon like me, babes.”
***
“Delia-uhhhhhh, when’s the popcorn gonna be ready?” Beetlejuice languishes about on the sofa in front of the TV with no shame, flopping his arms over the side to look towards the kitchen.
You roll your eyes from where you stand behind the couch, then move to swat at his dangling arms playfully. “Don’t be a nuisance unless you’re gonna help, hellspawn.”
A somewhat-frazzled redheaded figure appears in the open doorway to the kitchen. “Now, Beetlejuice, if life is a bank, then patience is a virtue that’s worth investing some of your spare change into!”
He slumps. “You should know metaphors and me don’t mix by now. Oh, and could you please horrifically burn the next bag for me? I like it crispy crunchy.”
“Ugh, and make the whole house stink again? I don’t think so,” Lydia retorts, finding her place on the adjacent single-seater couch and getting cozy, her gothy PJs still keeping her aesthetic together even before bed.
“I don’t expect you to understand fine cuisine, Lyds,” he huffs, crossing his arms petulantly and slouching down into his seat further, making his legs reach all the way to the other end of the couch.
You laugh and lace your finger through his hair from above gently. “Quit taking up a whole sofa by yourself and come help me put snacks into cute little bowls for everyone.”
Like a switch flipped, he’s immediately on his feet and following behind you obediently, his previous body language evaporated. “Coming, dear…!”
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a bewildered expression from Lydia and could swear you hear her mutter, “Demon whisperer…” to herself in a tone that reads as half-accusatory and half-awestruck as you walk into the kitchen.
As you enter the room, you see Delia at the far side of the long counter furiously stirring a bowl filled with some snack that she must’ve quickly whipped up. “Oh, if you two could just put the popcorn and chips into some of the big sharing bowls while I finish this vegan cheese dip, that would help!”
“Sure can do, Delia,” you respond, opening the high cabinet closest to the door to grab the giant cartoon print snack bowls that everyone likes to use. You hand one off to Beetlejuice and keep one for yourself. “You handle the chips, bug.”
“I wanted to do the popcorn,” he argues back, putting on his brattiest tone.
“I’m not letting you anywhere near the popcorn. I know you.” You shoot him a faux mean look, and he doesn’t even try to hide the smile that spreads across his face. You ignore your desire to give him a kiss and instead, as you hear the popping slowing down on the popcorn within the microwave, open the door and trade it out for another bag. After pressing start, you open the top of the finished bag and pour it into your bowl, which is bright fuchsia and decorated with little cherries. You find your eyes strangely glued to it as you pour.
“It’s better when it’s blackened. That’s how you truly unlock the…complex flavor profile. See, I told you, I really have been watching those cooking shows on TV and learning valuable new things about the art of le chef.” The bag of chips on the counter lift up and begin pouring themselves into his bowl without Beetlejuice so much as looking back at them. Instead, he’s looking right at you as you pour the hot snack in the bowl, the tantalizing smell filling up the whole room. “Something really awesome about your bowl there that I’m not seeing?”
You manage to tear your eyes away from the bowl to look at him, suddenly realizing with mild embarrassment what it had been subconsciously reminding you of that had you so enraptured. “Uh, well, I can’t ever look at this pretty shade of fuchsia in a normal context the same way ever again, so I guess you kinda Pavlov’s dog’d me.” It’s hard to hide the laughter bubbling up in your lowered voice, having to hear yourself admit to something so…ridiculous.
Beetlejuice, on the other hand, seems to view this as much more of a personal victory than a weird observation on your part. He snickers to himself before leaning in close to you flirtatiously. “Oh, babes, I really am living rent-free in that head of yours, huh? I knew I was good, but I didn’t know I was ‘make you think of getting dicked down when you’re making snacks’ good…”
“Behave.” You shoot daggers at him with your sharp gaze, and can’t help but feel like you’re giving him exactly the reaction he wants out of you. Dating Beetlejuice openly hasn’t changed too much of the dynamic, aside from you having to keep him and his lack of a filter on a short leash if you wanted to maintain your remaining shred of dignity.
The demon returns your gaze with his own unconvincingly innocent look. “I’m behaving, I’m a good boy, see? I poured the chips nicely and everything.” The whininess in his voice is going to make you insane, you know it. He then looks over your shoulder at the counter. “Oh hey, I think your popcorn’s done now.”
You whip your head around and are smacked in the face with the horrible smell of burning popcorn. “Oh shit!” You pull the microwave door open as fast as you can, but when you grab the bag and pull it open by the corners, the little puffs are burnt to a completely unsalvageable degree.
Beetlejuice gasps. “Babes, did you make this one just for me…?” He dramatically places a hand over where his heart would be. “Thank you!” He plants a quick but rough kiss on your lips before grabbing the bag and pouring it into his own personal striped bowl that appeared out of seemingly nowhere. You, on the other hand, are left reeling from the kiss and only able to wonder if he had been distracting you on purpose.
Delia makes a sound of disgust from the other end of the kitchen, and you look over to see her taking the dip out of the oven with a scrunched-up face. “Oh God, it smells awful in here! Tell me you didn’t put Beetlejuice in charge of the popcorn.”
Beetlejuice practically cackles. “Nope, my sweet little meatsack did this allllllll on their own.” With that, he proudly takes his personal bowl out with him to the living room, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces.
Feeling utterly duped, you grab the half-full bowl of popcorn and follow him out of the kitchen. By now, though Charles has gone past you to the kitchen to help Delia, Adam and Barbara have joined Lydia in finding a comfy spot on one of the many chairs (the family reached a point where they really had to invest in more seating after getting such a full house). Their attention is on the TV mounted above the fireplace as Adam swipes through a variety of potential movies to watch, at least, until the two of you arrive.
Lydia plugs her nose. “Gross, why’d you let him burn it, dude?”
Beetlejuice laughs and pipes in for you. “Hey, nobody can resist the power of the B-Man! Not even this one.” He tosses a piece of charcoal-colored popcorn into his mouth for emphasis.
You roll your eyes and offer Lydia a defeated shrug before settling onto the nearby loveseat, placing the big popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of the TV. “I tried, kid. Unfortunately, he is still an absolute pest even if you happen to be in a relationship.”
Beetlejuice crosses his arms proudly, his bowl hanging in midair where he left it. “Oh, you want pest? Good, I needed a seat anyway.” He immediately plops down in your lap, laying his entire form on top of your reclined body.
“Crushing…me….!” You try to push back against his back unsuccessfully, finding him firmly planted on top of you. “There’s an empty seat right next to me you dummy!” It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, but ghost or not, he is certainly a big boy.
He slides around to sit in your lap sideways, his legs resting on the empty loveseat space but all of his weight still perfectly balanced on your lap. “Is this better, schnookums? Honeybunny? Light of my death?” He bats his eyelashes at you sweetly. He is not being sweet.
“You two need to get a room,” Lydia says, looking even more disgusted than she was with the burnt popcorn smell.
“We have one, it’s upstairs,” Beetlejuice counters.
“I have one,” you correct him.
“Babes, what’s yours is mine, remember?”
You promptly shift your lap and dump him onto the seat next to you unceremoniously. He lands with the amount of grace that you’d expect.
“Alright everyone, the dip is ready!” Delia’s singsong voice rings out as she and Charles bring in the rest of the food from the kitchen, and Delia plops the dip onto the coffee table by the chips. “I got the recipe online!” She says this fact like it’s a fun little surprise for everyone, as she likes to do.
“That’s great, and I think we got the movie all ready too,” Barbara says, and receives a thumbs up of confirmation from Adam.
With this, everybody finds a comfortable spot to sit as the movie begins playing, the studio logos rolling on the screen first. Charles and Delia on one couch, Lydia sitting in a strange lounging position on her soft chair, Adam and Barbara snuggling close on one loveseat, and you and Beetlejuice together on the other. You’re lucky that the television is so large, everyone’s already packed in enough as it is.
Beetlejuice scoots closer to you, and this time, he genuinely is being sweet. He looks up at you with those big brown eyes before snuggling his head against your shoulder affectionately. You reach your arm around his body to hold him closer, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through his hair, always its favorite place to be. He sighs contentedly next to you, his eyes closing in bliss for a moment before they reopen to watch what’s happening on the TV, unwilling to miss a thing. His light but comforting weight pressing against you is like your own personal weighted blanket, immediately making you relax all of the muscles in your body with his mere close presence. Your own gaze lingers on his pretty features for a moment longer, before getting the distinct feeling that someone is watching you. Looking up, you see everyone watching the movie, aside from Adam and Barbara, who are cuddled together and subtly peeking over at you two of you. At getting caught, they shoot you identical sheepish grins, all endearing and full of fondness in the way their eyes crinkle at you and your demon. You can’t help but give them a coy smile back before you all return your attention to the screen, holding the ones that you love close in your heart and arms.
Author’s Note: WOW. HOW DID THIS END UP SO LONG. this absolutely CLEARS my longest fic record by a fuckton of words. i have no idea, this started as a little blurb when i saw beetlejuice in nyc and then i saw it again on tour and my bff inspired me to continue it and helped with some beta reading (shout-out! go read his fics of beej & others at wretched-devil, they’re absolutely lovely) and things just kinda spiraled outta control. this fic had my studious ass on bad dragon looking up monster cock references, it was so serious to me. welp, hope it was fun for y’all too, thanks for reading!!
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the-silly-station · 9 months
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Reading btj fics and seeing how everyone handles the characters is so interesting and neat to me
Idk it's basic and white as FUCK, but I do love how some people can look at the same media and interpret something different
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