robotic-rin

[robotic-rin]

"Did you know people are masturbating to your smut fics-- 🤢" I hope they get twice as wet as I did writing it, mind your fucking business.

[robotic-rin]

Close Your Eyes, Open Your Mind

(The Invisible Man x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12,616

Summary: Owning and operating the most popular tavern in Darkmoor certainly keeps life interesting for you, earning you both the protection of the Hounds and the attention of townspeople and monsters alike. Dr. Jack Griffin is no different, eager to make a business deal with you so that he can distribute his Monocane to the masses. You’re hesitant to agree to his scheme at first, but what you may not realize yet is that Jack is exceptionally talented at finding out what motivates people to do his bidding, and you are no exception to this rule.

Warnings/Tags: Public Sex, Exhibitionism, yes ironically enough, not the entire time tho, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Penis In Vagina Sex, but the penis is invisible! woah!, Praise Kink, Degradation, Rough Sex, Biting, Orgasm Edging, Period-Appropriate Slang, the period in question being simultaneously the late 1800s and also 2025 somehow, darkmoor is a village outside of time to me, reader is afab but no gendered language is used, the reader does have a skirt on but it’s not meant to signify gender, i just needed it for one very specific horny scene. you understand, darkmoorian gender expression norms are less strict anyway imo, no (y/n) i am learning to grow past the need for (y/n), do we know who owns the burning blade in canon?, whatever it’s you now congrats

Author’s Note: hellooo residents of freakmoor! if you’re here wondering why i posted a new smutty oneshot for the invisible man instead of updating the next chapter of my gravity falls fic like i said i would, well, the truth is that i have failed you. this guy has unfortunately bewitched me, mind and soul, and i needed to write about him posthaste or risk succumbing to the madness (the next chapter is still coming tho! i have not forgotten, i just had an evil spell placed upon me for a bit). but yeah, basically i went to epic universe and had a lovely chance encounter with one dr. jack griffin that left me so flustered that i immediately went home and watched the 1933 movie for the first time, and now i’ve bought the original novel as well, so my jack will probably end up being somewhat of a combination of all three versions atp. and then i realized that there were hardly any invisible man reader inserts, especially those taking place in darkmoor, so i knew i had to help pitch in and break some new ground here. for science. and being a darkmoor whore. trademarked btw. also i’m gonna follow the other epic universe fic writers and add in the disclaimer: be chill and normal to theme park actors portraying these characters, obviously. as someone who used to work theme park entertainment, there is nothing more uncomfortable and mood-ruining than someone coming up to you and being blatantly weird about you or touching you or trying to find out personal information about you or just otherwise breaking boundaries. don’t be that guy. simp for the character, recognize that the guy playing him is literally just a normal dude at his day job, and then have a nice fun interaction with the character. easy peasy and everybody goes home with a smile. i’m sure most ppl here know this but it’s still worth saying just to be safe. also, if you know me in real life and have somehow found your way here then i’m embarrassedddd like you’re welcome to read but you have to tell me about it bc i’m nosy. unless you’re my sister who i know is on this website, in which case bro get OUTTA here, you do not wanna see what i cooked in this kitchen!!! anyway, now that you’ve all so patiently listened to me yap for 100 days and 100 nights, hope y’all enjoy fucking this guy!

All things considered, Darkmoor is a village that has proven itself to be full of loyal customers, as long as you can offer them something worth coming back for. And also as long as said customers are able to keep themselves alive long enough to return for more in such a dangerous place. Lucky for you, the Hounds always found themselves in need of a place to rest their weary feet and drink up after a monster hunt, and you found yourself happily keeping their goblets filled within your Burning Blade Tavern. Honestly, it turned out to be the best possible outcome for everyone, as you were able to benefit from the relative safety that came with having a group of monster hunters set up their unofficial base right outside your bedroom door, and they were able to enjoy good drinks and a dependable tolerance for their more rowdy shenanigans.

Agreeing to let them use your tavern as their home base was first met with verbal gratitude from them, followed soon by offerings. The first decapitated monster head that they offered you for your tavern wall was some sort of horrid goblin-looking thing, all stuffed and mounted to a board like a prize buck after hunting season. Not wanting to turn down such a generous gift and risk offending your most regular customers, you accepted, mounting it behind the counter so it could look down on patrons as they ordered, as though it might act as a deterrent for short-changers and travelers with sticky fingers. And when the Hounds saw what a place of honor their gift had been given, they just kept on bringing you more and more grotesque gifts, much like a cat proudly dropping a bird at its owner’s feet. Before you could even fully process the shift, your simple tavern had morphed into a trophy hall for your local monster hunters. It had also become gradually much more prone to small contained fires and strange bouts of both great luck and terrible misfortune, as if dozens of cursed artifacts and blessed amulets were stacked in a dusty corner together and fighting over which of them got to influence you most, but that was neither here nor there.

At present, your troubles didn’t lie in dodging bad luck (once literally, in the case of a glass that seemingly threw itself from a shelf untouched) or stroking the volatile egos of the monster hunters who now looked up at you much like hunting dogs looked to their beloved master, but rather, in one of the residents of Darkmoor. Not quite a monster, but not exactly a man, either; your latest predicament was found with Dr. Jack Griffin, known by many as the title that he loathed so deeply, The Invisible Man. You personally found it quite snappy and to-the-point as far as nicknames chosen by the general public go, but it made sense that someone with an ego like his would detest such a simplistic title being the only name that many travelers knew him by. Outside of Victoria Frankenstein, Ygor, Dr. Pretorius, and Dr. Jekyll (all of whom he had some problem with), most Darkmoor residents and travelers visiting the town seemed to have no real interest in the realm of scientific discovery, a fact that you assume constantly eats him up inside. A man who dedicated his life to science living in a town full of wary superstition, a man who supposedly once loved to preen in the mirror turned forever invisible. The irony of it all could almost stir your pity, if only his ability to speak had disappeared along with his body. There was only so much mad raving about the unscientific simpletons of the village that you could stomach in one sitting, entertaining though he could be on slow days when he deemed a brief visit appropriate. Of course, Jack isn’t lingering in your tavern for the third time this week to complain about no one ever reading up on any of his experiments.

“I don’t feel that you’ve properly considered just how many new customers this could bring in,” Jack explains, speaking with grandiose gestures of his arms to illustrate his points. He’s certainly much more involved in the conversation than you are as you continue bussing empty tables with less than thirty minutes and counting to closing time, trying not to pay the bandage-wrapped man much mind as he follows you around the tavern while you work, much too close for comfort. Despite his prickliness, to describe it very generously, you’re well aware of the fact that he has an undeniable charm to him when he feels like using it, and you just know that stopping and looking at him to watch all of his little idiosyncrasies as he speaks carries a very real threat of breaking down your defenses and getting you to hesitantly agree to some harebrained scheme. And so, you make a truly commendable attempt to ignore him. As it stands, he practically paces behind you, oscillating between coming right up to your ear to speak and flinging himself back to gesticulate wildly during moments of passionate monologue.

“What, is there a huge demand from travelers to turn invisible these days?” you retort, keeping your gaze on the tables in search of missed crumbs or sticky drink residue left from the day’s customers. You’re also putting quite a bit of energy into not visibly shivering when he comes up close to you, and this added effort is making it take longer than usual to get cleaned up. You can’t even begin to get into the things that his voice does to you, sharp words and articulate delivery causing the back of your scalp to tingle pleasantly, every sentence feeling as though he’s letting you in on some highly sought-after secret that he’s chosen to entrust you with. Maybe he was just mad, but he was uniquely talented at dressing up his madness to look like pure genius.

“There ought to be high demand, if they know what’s good for them,” Jack grumbles, crossing his arms and leaning back against a wooden beam. “Have I ever shared with you what the greatest aspect of invisibility is?”

“Not having to brush your hair in the morning?”

Jack shakes his head with what could be interpreted as either disdain or bemusement. “Such a comedian, you are. I wouldn’t go selling off the tavern, you’d starve to death.” You can feel his eyes on you and choose to let that backhanded comment slide right off of you without so much as a backward glance, electing to scrub at a particularly nasty mead spill instead. “No, my dear, the greatest aspect of invisibility is freedom from consequences, which leads to unrivaled power. I could just as easily slip out of my clothes and take money from your register to fund my own Monocane traveling cart, but I’d much prefer to work with you on this. I have my own business to attend to, you see, so I can’t be out peddling my wares on the daily. You could share this gift with the world in my place, help to gather followers to join the winning side, my side. I’d even have a place for you at the end, once I’ve overthrown that wretched Victoria. And I’m sure you would enjoy the benefits of invisibility as well, you know, unlike the slew of simpletons that populate this area.” You can practically feel his own satisfaction radiating off of him in waves, obviously feeling quite pleased with his own little business pitch.

For the first time, you rise to full height and look him in the eyes (or at the very least, in the sunglasses). “Jack, I don’t know how I can make it any more clear that I won’t be making any business deals with the likes of you.”

He freezes, bringing a hand to his chest as if stricken by your words. “The likes of me? I’ll have you know that I’m the best this sorry village has to offer!”

You stifle a giggle, refusing to give him an inch. “If that’s true, then lord help us all.” You finish working on the last stubborn stain and toss your rag into a nearby cleaning bucket, finally finished cleaning the whole place up, outside of the sweeping and mopping to be done once you’ve locked the doors. You briefly wonder if you might get away with closing early on such a slow night, just to get Jack out of your hair. It’s not like you’ve had any paying customers in the past hour. “You know what? It’s a full moon tonight, I really ought to lock the place up for the evening now and retire to my quarters, what with the Hounds being out and all.”

He suddenly steps out in front of you, trying with all his might to reengage your attention squarely on him. “You’re making a mistake.” His voice rises slightly in pitch, betraying just a whiff of desperation in his demeanor that had tried so hard to mask itself as assertiveness.

You sidestep him easily, ripping your gaze away from his petulant figure. “I’m sorry you think so, Dr. Griffin. I hope you won’t think less of me for it.”

You hoist your cleaning supply box up into your arms and whisk it to the back, placing it down in the empty kitchen as Jack trails after you, refusing to abide by your niceties. The kitchen is just as empty as the rest of the tavern, as the last of your staff have long since gone home for the evening, not wanting to be out past dark on a full moon. That was quite alright with you, as you could easily manage the tavern by yourself once the sun set and the day’s larger crowds had left to seek shelter, aside from the odd traveler who wasn’t aware of the dangers associated with Darkmoor in the night.

Supplies put away, you round on him and very nearly collide with the man due to how close he’s standing. “Why are you still here? Did you not hear me say that we’re closed?”

He doesn’t even flinch when you almost twist your body right into him. “I can get you to reconsider.”

You raise an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? What makes you think that?”

Jack’s bandages ever-so-slightly lift upward at the corners of where his mouth would be, allowing you to infer that he’s smiling quite brazenly at you at such close proximity. “Don’t play coy with me. I’ve seen how you look at me, tavernkeeper. How you react when I draw near to you.” As if to prove his point, he slinks even closer to you once more until his face is inches from your own, expression inscrutable as always, the mystery of the unknown and nothing else at all making your heart nearly beat right out of your chest. “Monocane might serve you well in particular, my little open book. Though, your racing heart might give away your presence even if you were to become invisible!” He lets out a mad cackle at that, throwing his head back and laughing at his own words. You really wish it wasn’t doing things for you right now.

You scoff and pull away from him, though you can’t help but agree that it would be nice to turn invisible in this moment so that it might obscure your flustered expression and quickly-warming cheeks. “I knew your brain was scrambled from ingesting one too many lab chemicals, Griffin, but that’s the kind of gall that I wouldn’t even expect from Victoria if she came in here to celebrate after a wildly successful experiment.”

He tilts his head and you swear that the dark lenses of his glasses have a playful glint within them. “And is it still considered gall if I’m correct, my dear? I’d simply call that being right.” He laughs again, moving closer until he’s looming right above you, tilting his head curiously. “Oh, don’t give me that look, it’s alright. I don’t mind that you have good taste, you would be crazy to not find yourself attracted to a charming, powerful genius. In fact, I think this can work to make a deal much more mutually beneficial, since it seems that money and power don’t call to you. Maybe you ache for something else, something more…intimate. I’m not averse to finding unique ways to motivate people. Especially someone as lovely as yourself.”

Looking up at Jack leaning in so close to your face has your mouth feeling profoundly dry all of a sudden, unable to formulate anything worth saying while taking in the rare delight of being paid a genuine compliment by him (after more than a few compliments to himself first, but still). You find yourself wondering if kissing his mouth through the bandages would be weird, and immediately try to dispel that idea before the truth of it manifests on your face and Jack realizes just how right he really was about you.

You don’t have time to formulate a response before the front door of the Burning Blade slams open, bringing with it a chorus of footsteps. Far too many to be a lost straggler looking for refuge, far too late for most other customers. A cacophony of celebratory howls makes it all too clear who is just beyond the boundary of the kitchen doors.

With a groan, Jack steps back from where he had been closing in on you to peer through the tiny window in the swinging kitchen doors at the source of the ruckus. “Isn’t it a bit late for your Hounds to be ruining our fun? Why don’t you tell them to go home and do something more worthwhile with their lives than bothering us?”

“They run late on hunts, once in a while,” you sigh. “They probably won’t be long, but I’m not about to explain to them what you’re doing here. You may not be a werewolf or vampire, but I still don’t think they’ll take kindly to seeing you here in their home base.”

Jack scoffs. “Oh, I’m not frightened of your loyal guard dogs. They ought to be frightened of me, considering that they’re the exact sort of bumbling idiots that I could outwit and kill without even having to shed my bandages.” He places a gloved finger on his chin. “Hm, but you know what? Their unwanted presence has actually given me an idea.” He steps back from the kitchen door window, electing to nonchalantly lean back on a silver dish rack instead. “Go on, go serve them. Don’t lollygag.”

“What’s your idea?” you ask warily, feeling some kind of twisted eager apprehension in the pit of your stomach at his sudden shift to secrecy.

“You’ll see,” he responds coolly. “Or you won’t.” A maniacal giggle slips past his lips, which doesn’t exactly dispel your nerves. “But I do believe that you’ll enjoy it, if my current suspicions are correct. And they always are, but I do still like to gather some evidence just to be good and sure. Now, off you go, my dear.” He gives a limp wave of his hand, curtly dismissing you.

You shoot him one last suspicious look before placing some freshly-washed drinkware on a tray and whisking them out the kitchen doors to the counter, keeping your eyes on him until the very last moment for any sign of what is to come. He gives away nothing, not even glancing in your direction now, clearly not wanting to spoil your surprise. Once you’re through the doors, you take quick stock of which Hounds have taken their usual place at the far back left table, closest to the doors. You fill up your glasses with alcohol and head over to the table, anxious to get liquor into their bellies fast and easy so they can all be sent happily home sooner rather than later. Though you weren’t quite ready to admit it to Jack, your curiosity was more than piqued by his offer, and thinking about what it might entail now was doing nothing but turning your face even hotter.

“Ah, there’s our tavernkeeper!” one of the Hounds, Quinton McCreedy, shouts as you approach. He’s often the one to take the lead on hunts, most likely due to being the most boisterous and impulsive of the group from what you’ve observed of him, always willing to speak up and rush in. Not like any of them could be described as shy.

“Here I am! And here’s your drinks, too. Hope the night went well.”

“You’re too good to us,” one of the other Hounds, Aida, chimes in. “Barely sitting down, and already you bring us drinks!”

“Can’t let my best customers go thirsty,” you smile, setting a glass in front of each of them with a practiced speed. You’ve long since memorized each of their usual orders, and you’re not giving them the opportunity to switch it up on you tonight. Not with Jack waiting just one room over with ideas of giving you an “intimate motivation” running through his head.

“Gregor is grateful for the quick service,” yet another laughs, picking up his glass and swirling his drink around before raising it triumphantly. “And for a great hunt tonight!”

The rest of the Hounds all break into howls of agreement, raising their glasses and clinking them together joyfully before downing the contents. Normally, you find the antics of your local monster hunters to be quite humorous and undeniably fun in a town where most prefer to quietly keep to themselves and avoid drawing undue attention, but on this evening in particular, you find yourself just wishing that they’d all howl their voices away quickly and stagger home.

McCreedy chuckles before turning around in his seat to face you. “Here’s your coin, then. Always a pleasure to see your kind face and delicious drinks after slaying so many godawful beasts in the forest. They may be ugly, but at least they look great on your wall!” The Hounds all laugh along with him and smack the table in a delightful uproar, seeming to be in the highest of spirits tonight. With levels of excitement this high, you already know that you can expect to receive a new decoration for the wall within a fortnight, once it’s been properly decapitated and stuffed.

You grab the bag of jingling coins from his open palm. “And I truly do appreciate it. You guys let me know if you need anything.” With that, you meander back over to the counter, pulling the drawstrings of the coin purse back to reach inside and produce a nice sum of gold. Hounds satisfied and chatting amongst themselves, you begin counting the coins diligently as you transfer them to the old register on the counter in front of you.

Strangely, by the time you’re about halfway through completing your task, something in the air shifts. You don’t feel anything, per se, but the sensation of being watched begins to prod at your mind until the hairs on the back of your neck start to stand up, as if acted upon by static electricity. You look behind yourself warily, as if you would see anything there. Nothing but the monster heads on the wall, same as they always are. Are they looking down on you more judgmentally than usual? No, no, you’re being ridiculous. Something is still odd about the energy of the room, though. Before you get a chance to investigate further, something firm presses itself against your lips, holding your mouth shut. On instinct, your eyes widen and an undignified squeak of surprise bubbles up from your throat, only to be silenced before it can escape your lips.

“Don’t scream,” a voice, calm and steady, soothes in your ear. “You don’t want to give us away, darling.” You quickly realize that what’s pressed over your mouth is a bare, invisible hand, though you only barely make that connection before something else is pressing against your neck, wet softness dragging up to your jawline and around the curving side of your cheek. Jack is roughly kissing up the perimeter of your face, right up to where his hand covers your mouth. After he seems certain that your initial shock has died down, he pauses his kisses and slowly removes his hand from your mouth, causing you to exhale unsteadily before whipping your head around to…well, not look at him, but to do your best.

“Are you crazy?” you hiss, trying with all your might to keep your voice down.

“To those too comfortable in their mundanity, perhaps,” Jack whispers, hot breath tickling your ear. Luckily, the Hounds are distant and lost in chatter, keeping his presence as your little secret. For now.

“We can’t do this now, they’re all right there!”

“Of course we can, this is your tavern, your home, after all. They’re the ones intruding on us.” A kiss pressed to the underside of your jaw rips a shudder from you. “But please, go right ahead. Tell me you don’t want this. Command me to stop. You could even whistle for your Hounds to come rescue you from the terrible monster accosting you.” His hand halts over your throat, hovering close to your eager skin expectantly and radiating unmistakable heat from a body that feels just as warm as any other.

“I…” You swallow. As much as you know that you ought to do as he says, you just can’t convince your tongue to form the words. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. For so many reasons. And yet, you continue to stand there, dumbstruck, words already dead in your throat and arms hanging limply at your sides like deadweights. How quickly you’ve fallen to a seducer in your own damn tavern, and with customers still milling about, no less. This really should be a moment of immeasurable shame for you, but your brain can’t seem to conjure up anything aside from unbridled desire right now.

He lets out a low chuckle. “That’s what I thought. You won’t. You’re too enthralled by the idea of me claiming you for myself right here, your protective attack dogs none the wiser. How absolutely depraved.” He leans in close to your ear, lips ghosting along its shell, and drops his voice to an even lower volume. “I love it.” His hand finally presses against your throat, no longer teasing you by looming menacingly over the delicate flesh without really touching. His grip isn’t tight, but it is firm enough to hold your attention.

“I’m sure you do, you absolute rake,” you shudder, his words going straight to your core despite your best efforts. You really do try to compose yourself, but it’s a big ask when you have a sensual voice purring in your ear and an unseeable hand beginning to wander across your body, lazily playing with the fabric of your top as it travels. His other hand continues to hold you steady by the throat, not at all restricting your airflow and yet still making you feel dizzy. “Do you really think we can get away with something like that just because you’re invisible?” You glance over at the Hounds, making sure that nobody notices you having a heated and quite sexually charged conversation with yourself.

“No consequences,” he echoes from before. “For me, at least. You’d better make sure you keep up appearances, for the sake of your hard-won reputation.”

You’re left with that warning to chew on as Jack slides his hand underneath your shirt, fingers gliding over your stomach as he grinds himself against you from behind. It clicks at this exact moment that Jack is genuinely naked next to you, which of course you knew had to be true at some unconscious level, since he obviously couldn’t have any clothes on in order to be completely invisible. However, feeling his erection press against your backside is making the reality of your situation become suddenly very apparent to you. How can he expect you to stay quiet with his dexterous fingers crawling up your stomach and to your chest, beginning to rub circles around your nipples and coax them to attention with a mean delight at how fast you crumble under his touch? It’s too much already, far too much, and you’ve barely begun.

“You need to cover my mouth again,” you softly whine, hips stuttering at the contact. “And hold me still. Please.”

“As you wish, pet.” You may not be able to see Jack’s smarmy grin, but you can hear it well enough in his voice to infer its presence. Your form is quickly enveloped in a tight embrace from behind, Jack’s cock now even more prominently pressing against your ass as he immobilizes you completely, your arms pinned to your sides. You’d never given his slight stature much consideration before, but you’re quickly realizing that he’s actually pretty damn strong now that you can feel his arms restraining you so effortlessly. You try to shift a bit and find that you’re definitely not going anywhere, probably not even if you thrashed and bucked with all your might, but you hope you won’t have to test that theory while the Hounds are still here. With your body secured, his left arm snakes itself across your chest and presses its hand firmly across your mouth, leaving no room for evidence of your secret indulgence to escape. You notice now that your mind has caught up to the situation that his hands smell strongly of warm leather, almost certainly due to the nice brown gloves that he so often has on. You enjoy the smell of the leather mixing with his skin, reminding you that he really does have a form just like you, and you can learn to fully take in and experience it with all but your eyes. You give him an experimental lick to embrace this approach, and you quickly end up with what feels like his middle and ring fingers inside of your mouth, pressing themselves against your tongue. It isn’t the outcome that you intended, but you definitely aren’t upset about it.

Completely secured, Jack returns his attention to your shaking body, slipping his other hand back under the hem of your shirt as it was, and this time alternating between gently ghosting over and roughly tweaking your nipples, now that you’ve been thoroughly quieted. His mouth busies itself with a return to your face, and you shiver deliciously at the sensation of a wet tongue running along the shell of your ear. A muffled gasp erupts from you as your body’s reactions are methodically tested and measured by your inquisitive doctor, but the din of conversation in the tavern corner is enough to render it inaudible to all but you and Jack, who seems quite pleased by the reactions he can produce from you so easily.

All of this being done by a completely invisible source is affecting your psyche in ways that really ought to be studied. It’s not dissimilar to the sensation of being blindfolded, completely unable to predict what touch might come next. However, you are still able to see your own body, as well as everything around you in a three dimensional space, which creates a strange disconnect as your brain attempts to match together what it feels with what it does, and does not, see.

“So eager for my touch,” Jack tuts, though it’s clear that he’s actually quite happy about this fact. “I just don’t know how you’re going to hold up once I grow tired of toying with you and begin to fuck you in earnest.”

Embarrassingly, his words alone are enough to produce a muffled moan from your chest. Your body attempts to grind back against him, but Jack keeps your hips locked tightly in place. He giggles quietly against your exposed neck at your body’s reaction to his words.

“Desperate little creature.” His teeth graze the tender flesh of your throat. “I’ll have you screaming my name soon enough. I doubt you’ll even be able to control yourself, poor thing. Let’s hope the nuisances are gone by the time you lose yourself.”

Despite your eyes practically rolling into the back of your head, they manage to catch the distant motion of a figure standing up from the only occupied table and beginning to walk toward you, head still turned to his friends as he makes one last joke. You make a sound of alarm from below Jack’s hand, and your fingers emphatically smack against whatever part of Jack’s flesh that they’re currently pressed up against.

He groans in quiet irritation. “Oh, for the love of…”

You’re swiftly released, and you take those precious few seconds to compose yourself before you’re spotted, straightening out your top and hopefully blinking away whatever lust remains in your eyes. Normal. You’re normal.

As the figure comes closer, you realize that it’s McCreedy, sporting a foolhardy smile that seems to recognize nothing amiss in the dim tavern lighting. At the same time, you feel the air behind you shift along your side in a downward motion, signaling that Jack has twisted himself into some kind of crouching position right in front of you. McCreedy slides up to the counter with a friendly two-finger wave, though your own response is lackluster due to the fact that your mind is mostly preoccupied with wondering why Jack would need to crouch down to hide if he’s already invisible. At least, until a moment later when it clicks that he didn’t go down there to hide, but to get a better angle for his next trick. Quick as a whip, he’s lifting the hem of your long skirt and ducking under its innermost layer, letting it flow back over him and give his form a visible loose definition. Eyes round as saucers, you instinctively step closer to the ledge of the countertop to better conceal anything happening below the belt, effectively pinning Jack between your pelvis and the bottom section of the counter without meaning to.

McCreedy looks guilty when he sees whatever expression you’ve got on your face, probably assuming that his approach must be the cause. “I know, I’m sorry, I know you’ve just closed up, but could I trouble you for just one more quick round of drinks? Hounds did a real great job hunting chorpions earlier today, wanted to treat ‘em all for it.”

“Ah, I see.” Even stalling for time, it takes every ounce of your focus to simultaneously comprehend what McCreedy is asking of you and conjure the correct response and facial expressions in time. It’s hard to focus with Jack salaciously tugging your underwear down until it’s below your knees, then to your ankles, and then your feet are lifted off the ground one by one and your underwear is entirely gone. After being lifted up, your legs are placed down farther apart than they were before, and he places a hand high on your upper thigh to spread you out even more. “Yes, I can manage one more round for you guys.”

“Actually, hold on, let me make sure I’ve got enough for another round first,” McCreedy says, reaching a hand down and digging haphazardly through his pockets as if he has all the time in the world. “If I’m short, I’ll just get one of the hunters to spot me for the evening. Or open a tab! And you know I’m good for it, barkeep.”

“It’s-it’s fine!” you blurt out, Jack’s fingers coming to press right up against your bare clit just as you open your mouth to speak, very nearly sending you straight to the floor like a pile of bricks. You attempt to steady yourself before speaking again, pleasure threatening to melt your mind before words can properly form. “It’s on the house!”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Really? You sure about that? I know it’s already an inconvenience.”

You nod, a bit too enthusiastically, as Jack continues to slowly and purposefully grind the soft pads of his fingertips against your clit. “O-of course. After all, you and your Hounds are such good, good…customers. It’s the least I can do, when you’re out there protecting all of us from-“ Jack seamlessly presses a finger inside of you, causing you to jolt and stifle a whimper. “-those dangerous monsters.” You’ve already become so wet that the unexpected penetration is all too easy to take, a welcome addition rather than a sudden uncomfortable stretch.

“Real generous of you.” McCreedy might’ve sounded pleased, if his voice didn’t remain low and skeptical as the words pass through his lips. His deep-set eyes search your face for some kind of answer, seemingly puzzled by your odd demeanor. Darkmoor was full to the brim with colorful characters, but he’d been around your tavern more than enough times to get a good sense of how you would normally act, and it seems that whatever you’re doing right now is setting off a few alarm bells in the monster hunter’s head. You pray that your gift is enough to keep him placated and dissuade him from checking you for signs of vampirism and/or possession.

“I’ll get those for you now, you just relax with your Hounds over there!” You probably couldn’t sound more insistent if you tried, and that was mostly due to the fact that Jack’s first finger was quickly joined by a second to gleefully hunt for the spot inside of you that was making your knees shake, the absolute bastard. You’ve never been more grateful for the height of the counter in front of you that was concealing the unsubtle rustle of your clothing just below eyeshot.

McCreedy shoots you a vaguely puzzled look again before ultimately shrugging, the prospect of free beer seemingly overpowering his internal line of questioning. “Alright, well. It’s a gesture much appreciated, love.” And with that, he turns on his heel and goes to rejoin the rest of his hunters in the farthest corner of the establishment.

Just as you exhale a sigh of relief and let your shoulders slump, you’re brought right back to attention by a warm mouth enveloping your clit, sucking and licking at you as if its owner were starving for your taste. His hands grip your bare hips firmly, holding you close to his face as he eats you out.

“Jack,” you whine, breathlessly managing to sputter out a single intelligible word between mostly-suppressed little sounds of pleasure. You angle your hips back slightly so that he’s no longer stuck between you and the counter, but not so far that you retreat from his eager mouth. Growing quickly needy, you roll to meet his tongue in rhythm, pressure beginning to build significantly as he keeps relentlessly suckling at your clit. “Jack, fuck, I’m close…”

The pressure grinds to a screeching halt when Jack halts his ministrations, and you see the indent of his head beneath your skirt as he pulls back from you.

“Already nearly losing yourself to the agony of bliss? We can’t have that, now, can we? You’ve got a job to do, after all.” He lifts the hem of your skirt so that he can exit the same way he entered, coming back up to full height to punctuate his performance with an open-mouth kiss on your lips, a glint of your own wetness on his mouth acting as your only warning before you two collide. You return the kiss, even as it proves slightly tricky to master your technique by touch alone, and tasting yourself in his hungry mouth is enough to make you groan with need. Jack bites your bottom lip cheekily just before pulling away. “Better not keep them waiting, love.”

You nearly gape at the loss before hardening your expression. “Bastard.”

He merely chuckles darkly in response, and it’s only then that you notice he’s still holding your underwear, which appears to the naked eye to be twirling itself in midair absentmindedly around the outline of two glistening fingers, so drenched that their full outlines are easily visible and discernible. You struggle to make the world stop spinning, clenching around nothing as the pressure within you slowly starts to dissipate, backing you away from the ledge you had been so rapidly approaching.

Caught somewhere between being angry that he purposefully stopped right before your release and unfortunately turned on even more from getting tugged around by his expertly-executed power play, you go ahead and put yourself to work filling up enough beer mugs at the tap to sate all of the Hounds for the night, as swiftly and visibly irate as you can manage. You quickly find that it’s so much more difficult to make a big show of appearing cross to someone whose reaction is literally impossible to gauge. Jack might be giving you a self-satisfied smile, or raising an eyebrow at your sulking, or he might not even looking at you. It puts a fire in your belly, a desperate drive to affect him in a way that is unmistakable and irrepressible, visibility be damned. For now, you set the mugs onto a large tray and whisk them over to the Hounds’ table.

It’s just as you’re approaching the Hounds that you make up your mind. You’re staying right over here until they leave. Jack can just be patient and wait behind the counter, or leave feeling as unsatisfied as you currently feel. You really hope that he won’t do the latter, but you’re ready to be stubborn about this if he’s gonna try to play with you like a cat batting at a wounded mouse for fun, taking advantage of the fact that you can’t exactly grab him and start riding his thigh until you cum on his bare skin without attracting a lot of unwanted attention. Not yet, at least. This course of action is also the perfect hint to politely encourage the Hounds to finish their drinks and please get the hell out. You feel pretty good about the whole thing, considering it’s a plan invented by your brain after a rather thorough scrambling.

The Hounds are so deep in conversation that they only acknowledge you with routine thanks before returning to the recounting of the night’s events, as if they hadn’t all been there together just hours ago. After passing out every drink, you place your empty tray on a nearby table and recline against the wooden post closest to the group, feigning vague interest in the stories and praying that they’d remember to include plenty of pauses so that everyone could take a big swig of their respective drinks. As you lean against the pillar, you wonder if Jack is watching you now, trying to figure out why you aren’t coming right back over for more. How long might it take for him to piece together that you’re trying to exert some kind of control over the situation that he was so proud of orchestrating himself? The Hounds are talking to each other loudly, but your mind is clearly proving to be far louder.

For a few short minutes, it goes on like this with no change. Your monster hunters down their drinks quickly, though not quite as quickly as you’d like, and Jack remains Schrödinger’s Invisible Man, in a simultaneous state of patiently awaiting your return and angrily gone out the back door.

With your back to both the pillar and Jack, you feel that same change in the air making itself apparent again, somewhat comparable to the feeling of someone standing very close to you and making your hair stand on end. You desperately want to believe it to be your imagination, despite the fact that you’d just recently felt it signal Jack’s presence. You can’t fathom what could possibly possess him to approach you, since your full body was in clear view of the Hounds. To shift your clothes even slightly would be to give both of you away, so you choose to stubbornly ignore the unnatural sensation. That is, until a cool breeze right along your left ear makes your body convulse in a strange shiver. And then it happens again, a teasing blast of air targeting the sensitive skin right behind your ear. You’re indoors, so it doesn’t take a detective to realize where (or more accurately, who) it’s coming from. You really shouldn’t underestimate a madman.

“Thought you could get away?” Jack whispers, so quiet and breathy that each word breezes out of his mouth like air that had been shaped into an imprecise form and loosely tied together at the ends, connecting one word to the next with almost imperceptible borders between them. “Nice try.”

You suppress a whine when Jack drags a tongue across your exposed neck, the risk of physically reacting to his touch growing exponentially with every moment. He finds a nice spot on the left side of your neck and begins sucking, gently at first, but becoming gradually more intense. You can’t move. You absolutely cannot react at all. Not this close to the Hounds. Not even when his teeth start nibbling at the supple skin. Not even when he bites down more substantially into the flesh, causing your breath to come out in little unsatisfying spurts that make you feel like you’re drowning, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes from the pure willpower it’s taking you to hold still. He’s almost certainly marking your flesh, probably just to see if anyone will notice a dark hickey forming on your neck right before their eyes. At the very least, he’s being quiet about it, but it’s still a dangerous gamble that he’s chosen to take here, and all for pure love of the game. You lift your left hand to cup your cheek in a manner that you hope appears to be casual if any Hounds happen to look, so that the mark is obscured by the placement of your forearm, overwhelmed by feeling simultaneously mortified and painfully horny. You don’t dare speak to reprimand him, for fear that something far more incriminating might slip past your lips if you unseal them for even the briefest of moments.

Jack smiles against your skin. “So good, holding so still…” He wraps his slender fingers around your left wrist and pulls your hand away from your cheek and down, down, down, until it presses right up against his hardened cock. Your eyes widen when you realize he must have been leaking precum for quite a while, considering that it’s thoroughly coated the entire length by now, his own need becoming brilliantly apparent.

Your heart races at the act of finally touching Jack, especially so close to others. He feels fairly long and slender and achingly hard, and you imagine that his tip would be flushed some pretty shade of pinkish red if you could only see it. You do everything in your power to avoid taking his length in your grasp and pumping with reckless abandon as he ruts his hips against your frozen hand. You internally curse yourself for trying to one-up a man as unhinged as Jack in such a high-stakes scenario. Getting eaten out behind the counter and denied each time you get too close to orgasm somehow doesn’t seem so bad now. This is worse. This is so, so much worse. You’ve leapt out of the frying pan and straight into the fire. And unfortunately, Jack was completely right - you are undeniably getting off on this just as much as he is.

“Alright, suppose we oughta be packing up for the night.” McCreedy’s words rip you from your stupor, making you instinctively yank your hand back from Jack and fold your hands in front of you. The Hounds have already begun grabbing their satchels and equipment to pack up, their goblets empty on the table, presumably drained whilst you were otherwise distracted.

“Excellent!” you exclaim, immediately sheepish due to your delivery sounding a bit too excited to be polite. “Ah, apologies, I’m just feeling a bit faint for some reason this evening, so I’ll see you all out and then retire. But it’s always a pleasure to hear about a hunt gone well.”

Gregor stands, wagging a finger warily. “The full moon causes extra sickness even for those without lycanthropy, I swear it. Bed rest should fix you up, leeches tomorrow if not.”

The rest of the Hounds also seem amicable enough despite your slip-up and uncharacteristic demeanor throughout the evening, murmuring final thanks and patting you on the shoulder as they file out. And hey, you notice that extra tip left on the table looks pretty generous at least, so there’s your one upside to that long interruption.

McCreedy, lingering at the back of his pack, pauses on his way out before fishing something out of his pocket. “Look, I know you said you just aren’t feelin’ well, but just so you know, if you’re hearing voices or anything of the supernatural sort, Dr. Jekyll can help. He’s good people, I swear it, and he knows these sorta things better than anyone. Us Hounds wouldn’t have banded together without him.” He slips a business card between your index and middle finger before you have a chance to protest, gives you a smile of kindly concern, and slips out the front door of the tavern after the rest of his hunters.

You hoist the large wooden lock up and into its secure position before spinning on your heels to press your back against it in relief. “Great, they all think I’m either crazy or haunted now.” You turn the card over in your fingers. “And you know, after this, I just might be both. Jury’s still out, but it’s not looking favorable.”

A genuine laugh rings out from somewhere in front of you, sounding by all accounts quite a bit less maddened than those heard from him previously and tinged instead with actual amusement, which fills you with an immediate sense of pride. Shockingly, you actually see Jack emerge from behind one of the farther pillars, back in his regular bandages and clothing. He must’ve taken advantage of your extended goodbyes as you ushered out the Hounds to swiftly wrap himself yet again. You do pointedly notice that his pants remain unzipped, quelling any worries that could’ve popped up of him stubbornly exiting prematurely.

You glance up and down his figure. “Oh, now you put on clothes?”

Jack chuckles, little bubbles of his previous laugh that you so desperately wish to hear more of. “Well, it is quite drafty in here.” He takes a large step toward you and presses his face right in front of yours, making you involuntarily shrink back until you’re completely flat against the wall, despite wanting nothing more than his touch. “And, though complete invisibility has its perks, there’s a kind of power in being able to make you tremble at the sight of my approach, to look back and see exactly who is bringing you to ruin.”

You swallow, breathing just a bit more shallow with him so close. “You do know how to make an excellent point, Dr. Griffin.”

“I do, don’t I? Now, shall we finish what we’ve started?” His voice sends a thrill up your spine, no longer hushed due to necessity, but just for the sake of the reaction he knows it will pull from you.

“Please,” you whisper back, more than happy to match him in tone.

“Good pet.” He dexterously plucks the business card from your fingers and flicks it away carelessly so that he can better take your hand in his. He’s gentler than you ever thought he might be capable of, gloved fingers lifting up your palm while his thumb braces itself along your knuckles, poised as though he were guiding royalty down from a carriage rather than leading a tavernkeeper to the proverbial bedroom. He walks you over to one of your larger clean tables before releasing your hand, moving his own hand to rest under his chin as if pondering something. He reaches out and rubs the material of your shirt between his fingers. “Take this off.”

You do as he says with no hesitation, unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it off your torso while trying not to seem too eager, a true challenge. You’re left in only your long skirt, a chill settling over your newly-bare skin in the open air.

“Breathtaking,” he hums, and you can practically feel his eyes on your form as he looks you up and down, appraising you ravenously. “Do you shiver from the cold, or are you frightened?”

You can’t help but feel the corners of your lips curl upward. “I’m not frightened of you, Jack.”

“Perhaps you should be, I am quite a dangerous man, you know. But you’ve proven that you seem to enjoy that added aspect of danger, so I won’t take your words as defiance, tempting though it is to discover how one might go about breaking you.” Fingers grip your chin, making you stretch your neck farther as you tilt your head upward with his insistent grip, exposing your soft throat like an animal in an act of submission. “Tell me you want this.”

You look right into his sunglasses, his unseen gaze making eye contact easier, yet somehow more intense. “I want this. I want you, Jack. Please, keep going.”

Jack is still for a moment, as if still absorbing your words. Until he grabs you by the hips, spins your body to face the table in one fluid and mildly disorienting motion, and forcefully presses you flat against it, pushing in on the small of your back with his slim fingers until you’re arching beautifully with your ass high in the air. You have to stand on your tiptoes to avoid the yawning stretch of your calf muscles at the angle you’ve been bent at, even though the table isn’t very high. You’re at least grateful that Jack pinned you to one that doesn’t currently have a wobbly leg, and your arms come to steady yourself even more by gripping the side of the table with your left hand and propping your head up slightly by turning to your left and sliding your bent right arm under your head like a pillow. It’s somewhat more comfortable than how you began, and you won’t be complaining for as long as you’re in a position like this below Jack.

“Excellent answer. Now stay just…like…that.” He drags his fingers down the curve of your spine, the leather of his glove tickling your bare skin and deepening your arch as you roll your body with his touch, much like a cat being stroked. When he reaches the hem of your skirt, he grabs the material covering your backside in a crude bunch and lifts it up and over the curve of your ass, exposing your entire bottom half due to your underwear still being of unknown whereabouts. You can see him in your peripheral vision when you tilt your cheek away from your cushioning bicep, Jack looking as reverent as is probably possible for him as his hands come to rest on your upper thighs. “What a lovely visage. Go on and touch yourself for me, darling.”

You oblige, releasing your left hand’s grip on the edge for now and lifting your torso to give your arm just enough room to squeeze between your stomach and the table. Your shaky middle finger quickly settles into rubbing circles into your swollen clit, and you exhale shakily at the contact due to how neglected it had been feeling. Even with Jack holding back from doing anything but cruelly teasing you since he brought you to the edge and denied your release, you’re still so wet, your body beyond anxious to receive the attention that it craves so badly and your nerves much more sensitive due to Jack’s drawn-out toying with you.

As you touch yourself, you keep your eyes from rolling back into the back of your head too completely so that you can keep one of them on Jack as he watches wordlessly from behind you. He can’t seem to tear his gaze away from the show you’re putting on for him for even the briefest of moments, and you realize after craning your neck a bit more that he’s stroking himself with a bare hand, glove thrown haphazardly to the floor in a desperate attempt to quickly rid himself of it. He tries so hard to mask his own burning desire and act as though this is all some sort of big favor and/or business partner signing bonus for you, but the charade is quickly failing. Your own show falters as you pause to admire him, beautiful and desperate in his own way as he chases his pleasure with a full-body shudder.

“Did I say to stop?” he sneers, clearly aware of your gaze back on him. He meets your wandering eyes with what could be read as slightly flustered body language, pausing his pumping at the interruption as if suddenly self-conscious, but you can’t tell for sure.

When you merely smile cheekily in response, you’re shocked by a sharp stinging pain suddenly radiating across your backside, knocking a pathetic sound from you that tumbles out without a semblance of grace. It takes your mind a moment to process that Jack just swatted your ass with his unoccupied hand, the one that’s still fully enveloped in a brown leather glove. The thick leather of the well-made accessory made the initial contact land with much more of an impact than it may have had otherwise, and the pain continues to bloom outward from where he slapped you until your entire ass and upper thighs are tingling deliciously.

Jack strokes his gloved hand across the curve of your backside much more tenderly, eliciting a shudder from you as he gently massages the throbbing skin. “Do as I say and behave. Or I can do far worse to you than that.”

You press your hips back toward him as his hand ventures lower, now dragging along your inner thighs as he makes his way to where you need him most. “You make that sound far too appealing.”

“Or perhaps you’re just a bit too willing to let me have my way with you, and it clouds your judgment.” Two fingers drag ever-so-lightly across your entrance, so close to entering you and yet so far. As you can feel your wetness begin to coat the material and make it far more slippery, you wonder what those gloves might feel like pumping in and out of you. The friction might realistically be a bit too much, but at least it looks pretty nice in the theater of your mind right now. “Let me be clear, I don’t see that as an issue. It’s just an observation.” He gives one final smack to your ass before pressing a gloved finger to your clitoris, reveling in the way you squirm against him and moan. The lazy circles that he rubs are greatly aided by the wetness that had accumulated on his glove so quickly, the fabric feeling otherworldly against your leaking cunt, willing to take just about anything by now as long as it was from him. “Why don’t you put that needy, clouded mind to work and beg me to fuck you? It’s not like you have any true pride left in here with me, after all. You already happily let me take that from you.”

You whimper, brain unable to conjure anything even resembling indignation with his leather glove pressed so perfectly against your clit, other fingers back to barely brushing your entrance teasingly. “Please, Jack, I need you to fuck me. Need you to fill me up, I want it so bad, goddammit, kept me on edge so fucking long. Please.” He’s unfortunately correct that such a long period of unfulfilling on-and-off torment has brought you to a state of near-mania, having to struggle to keep from blubbering incoherent pleas as you beg for him to finally fuck you properly. Letting Jack see you start crying would be tantamount to signing your soul over to him for life, so you swallow the pitiful cries that your voice box wants so badly to supply you with and force your voice to steady. You’re giving him a lot, but you won’t let him have that particular satisfaction.

Jack cackles, a true hyena laugh. “Oh, aren’t you just the most obedient little slut in Darkmoor? Fine, since you so clearly need this to retain your grasp on sanity.” Seeming satisfied by your unabashed begging, you feel Jack press the head of his cock against your entrance, moving it in small circles to coat himself with even more of your wetness. He definitely had plenty of pre-cum coating his length back when he pressed your hand to it, so this was just another way of prolonging the inevitable for his own sick pleasure. “I hope you enjoy your motivation a bit rough, my dear.”

With that, he presses into you, stretching you out even more as he slowly sinks into your heat. With how ready you are, it’s not a difficult process by any means, and the stretch in your legs as you’re pushed even higher onto your tiptoes is the only stretch that you’d currently describe as bordering on painful, but you can’t bring yourself to care with your cunt so blissfully stuffed right now, finally. Once Jack is fully inside of you, he begins rocking, slow and stuttering at first as he adjusts to your cloying grip, but quickly building into something much more intense. You can see him still in your peripheral vision, shoulders squared at first with effort until they gradually relax. Your left hand comes back to hold onto the side of the table, the only anchor within your reach.

“How’s that? Do you enjoy how thoroughly I fill you? How perfectly we slot together? Because I will say, you feel absolutely lovely around my cock right now.” Jack picks up the pace gradually as he speaks, seemingly spurned on by his own words, accidentally giving away the secret that he’s talking so filthy for his own sake as much as yours.

You grit your teeth at the way his hips start to roughly meet your backside, not even giving you a moment to breathe when he pulls farther out before he’s plunging back into you again at full force. The rhythm is as inscrutable as his facial expressions, and you would describe the pace that he’s clearly building up to as “crazed,” or perhaps even “frenzied.” You’re happy to take what he has to give, and you wouldn’t expect anything less than what you’re currently receiving from the likes of him.

“Fuck, yeah, feels great, th-“ A particularly strong thrust practically knocks the wind out of you.

“What was that?” He grabs at the hair close to your scalp to yank your head back, stinging pain mixing with pleasure in your fast-melting brain, making your surprised exhale of escaped air into more of a pitiful mewl than you’d have normally liked. “Was it going to be a ‘thank you’ for letting you experience what so few others have? It really ought to be.” His gloved hand presses into the small of your back again, making you arch into his thrusts and opening you up for him much more efficiently. “Go on, thank me.”

Your mouth is hanging open by now, you can feel it, but you just can’t summon the energy to close it and hold it shut. “Yeah, yes, yes, thank you, Jack.” It seems you can’t muster the willpower to do much more than blindly agree with whatever he says right now, either. Not with his cock so wonderfully filling your needy hole, rubbing right up against that spot inside of you that Jack had found so easily before with his fingers. It seems that by now, he has a very clear picture of where to aim if he wants to make your knees buckle and your vision blur.

“You’re welcome, darling,” he purrs, all too satisfied with himself. You can see him behind you with your face pressed against the flesh of your arm, holding himself high and proud. You’re suddenly struck by just how much Jack behaves like a gorgeous male bird putting on a courtship display, and you can easily imagine how his feathers would be all fluffed up with pride right now based on his self-congratulatory stance alone. He really must’ve been a true peacock back when he was visible, as he still carries himself as one so unmistakably, a remnant of a life where he must’ve been constantly told how handsome he was by those around him.

“You’re…pretty,” you breathe, barely able to find the air between the thrusts at the fast and vicious pace that Jack has set. Your eyes screw shut to try and keep yourself from becoming entirely overwhelmed, head spinning from either the position or the unending barrage of long-awaited pleasure.

Your words make him slow, and you open one eye to see him looking down at you with a tilt of his head. “Expound upon that.” Jack seems lost at a crossroads between pure confusion and a desperate need to accept any compliment that you pay to him, no matter what it is.

Brain still foggy, you struggle to come up with the logical reasoning behind your comment. “I don’t know, I can just…tell you’re pretty? You hold yourself in an attractive way, and even covered in bandages and a smoking coat, you just look…good. Really good. God, you’re just so hot. Sorry, that may not make sense right now, it’s hard to string together coherent sentences when you’re still fully inside of me.”

Jack angles his hips to push deeper into you, as if to acknowledge your statement and twist the knife just to watch you keen below him helplessly. “No, no, I understand the inference based on the evidence available to you. And you are correct, I was quite pretty, once. My mind is my greatest attribute, but it is nice to be admired for my looks again. Even in such unusual circumstance.” He brings his hands, one bare and one still gloved, up to your hips to better anchor himself to you, his fingers gripping your soft skin with authority. “Let me properly show my gratitude.”

When Jack resumes his breakneck pace, you actually find yourself pressing your hips back in time to meet him, arousal high enough to make you completely unfazed by his demanding rhythm, which is gradually starting to make sense to you. He only digs his fingers harder into your hips and tries to keep his hold on the metaphorical steering wheel, intent on using you like a toy that he can maneuver however he pleases. Your legs are unfortunately really starting to ache from the strain now, and he must notice them beginning to shake with effort. He hooks a hand under your left leg and hoists it up onto the table, opening you up even wider and alleviating some of the pain in your legs from your stance. Both hands back on your hips, Jack grips them tight enough to allow you to essentially ragdoll in his grasp without fear of falling. You make a mental note to never underestimate his strength again as he fucks into you with a renewed vigor, the new position allowing him to hit your sweet spot with nearly every thrust. You feel like you’re being split open, body and mind, your nerves and your thoughts alike beginning to fray at their ends.

“Oh, if only you could see how well you stretch for me,” Jack practically growls, his voice so deliciously low and pleased as he leans down to place his lips right by your ear, a mirror of how your night first began. “So wet, holding onto me so insistently like a perfect little cock trap…afraid I’ll run off, are you?” He presses deeper into you and holds your hips flush against his own once he’s fully sheathed, groaning at the feeling. “Don’t fret, darling. I’m not going anywhere until your pretty little cunt can recall the exact shape of me better than your eyes ever could.”

You whine at his words, unable to think of anything worth saying in response to a statement like that. Not that Jack would probably mind if you were to start deliriously moaning out his praises without vetting the words to make sure that they are both intelligible and not something that you’d regret saying by tomorrow (as if the bar for that measurement isn’t comically low and sinking by the minute). As your body falls limp in his grasp, all your mind can stand to focus on is the drag of his cock within you, back and forth, moving like a swinging pendulum of a clock. You’re spread so wide, pussy completely on display for him, and you can only imagine how bizarre it must look from his side as you widen and narrow around seemingly nothing, allowing him the most intimate view possible of you in your entirety.

Jack begins to audibly pant from exertion and then laughs to himself, a high and breathless cackle. “Alright. I’ve changed my mind. You don’t get to partake of my Monocane. I would miss this sight too much, getting to watch you greedily swallow up every inch of me and then fight so hard to keep me inside of you. Your debauched face looking back at me like I hung the moon in the sky. Such a beautiful image, like a living portrait, far too valuable to lose. You can serve as an ally to my cause in other ways. By distributing my Monocane, and by providing me with this wonderfully effective stress relief.” He grips the flesh of your ass hard as he speaks, giving you another taste of that same sweet pain from before as your nerves protest and sing all at once. “You’ll get to be all mine. Would you like that, my sweet? To have the honor of being taken by me, anytime, anywhere, and then become my most treasured pet once I rule Darkmoor?”

“Y-yeah, fuck, I want that.” You tilt your head to get a better look at Jack behind you, your pleading face with eyebrows all knitted together meeting his unchanging mask of bandages with sunglasses concealing an unknowable expression. “Let me be yours, please. Make me yours.”

He practically pets at your hair from behind, stroking as if it were a great reward to bestow upon you. “So agreeable, so good for me. I had assumed you were just another simple-minded fool, but you’ve shown just how smart you really are.” He laughs when you clench around him, not even meaning to let that one errant comment push you significantly closer to the edge. “Oh, do you like it when I praise your intelligence? It’s the highest compliment I can give, so you’re right to enjoy it so much.”

You’re panting now, unable to contain yourself. “Cum inside me, please.”

Jack’s hips stutter at your wanton request, seemingly taking him by surprise with your forwardness even now as he quickly recovers. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else, love.” His grip on your hips tightens, definitely enough to leave bruises, as he struggles to regain his rhythm after your comment threw him off. “Oh, tell me. Tell me how much you love my cock in you. How perfect I am.”

You’re glad that the smirk on your face is mostly out of his sight, as it would almost certainly earn you another smack. “Oh, Jack, you’re so wonderful, better than anyone else in Darkmoor. So intelligent, so pretty, you fill me up so perfectly. You’re perfect. You deserve to be the one in the manor ruling over Darkmoor.” You have to say, it’s nice to know that your own praise is just as needed in order to get him to the finish line, even if he would never admit to being so reliant on what you think of him for his own release. You do your best to infuse each word with sickly sweet sincerity, eager to see how much of an effect you can have on him with your words alone.

Jack mostly chokes back a high-pitched moan at your outpouring of cooing praises and immediately picks up the pace, clearly approaching his own release with every sweet word that you utter. It is brutal, merciless, and promises with every drive of his cock into your cunt that you will feel it again tomorrow morning, even as your wetness keeps everything moving with very little friction. Something deep within you begs you to place your hand over his as they continue to squeeze your hips, but you hold back for fear that he wouldn’t like it, potentially even scaring him off completely. Maybe someday.

Ego sufficiently stroked, Jack moans a few little words of admiration under his breath and possessively wraps a still-gloved hand around your throat from behind, right before he releases himself inside of you with a shaky whimper that couldn’t be entirely suppressed. Presumably invisible cum spills into you so perfectly, and even if you can’t see it, you can feel it filling you up until you’re pleasantly warm inside, so much that you can feel it begin to dribble out of your clenched entrance with every rut of his cock into you. That feeling of being claimed by something so unique to Jack, flooded to the brim with him, produces a whine from you as your walls spasm wildly, as if they were trying to coax more cum out of him in his aftershocks.

You cum around his dick just like that, unable to hold back from almost sobbing out his name as you finally cross the threshold. Tears of pure relief and insurmountable pleasure prick your eyes as a powerful orgasm overtakes you, your extremities erupting into fuzzy static as your brain is overloaded with information from your core and finds itself unable to process nerve responses from anywhere else in your body. As you ride the wave, you find yourself wishing you that weren’t facedown on the table so that you could grab Jack and kiss him or bite him or just wrap your entire body around him, just to make contact with something other than this cold table below you that smells faintly of disinfectant spray. But the rapturous twitching of your stuffed cunt eventually begins to ebb before you can do any of those things, so you instead elect to allow your body to become boneless in the afterglow.

Jack eventually pulls out of you and releases his grip on your hips slowly until both of your feet are safely on the floor, seeming nearly as spent as you are after such a rough encounter. “Was that enough motivation for you, my dear, or shall we go again?”

“No, not…not right now,” you murmur, unable to even consider a second round after such a drawn-out first. The room is still spinning and your ears are still ringing as you flip over to lay on your back across the table. Luckily, it’s quite sturdy, though you will now have to thoroughly clean it again before opening up the tavern tomorrow morning. You do get a wonderful view of Jack standing above you, still involuntarily shaking with one hand bracing himself on the table as he comes down from that dizzying high. You’re almost certainly faring worse in that department, but it’s so satisfying to see even a glimmer of vulnerability from him, what with all his usual pride and bravado making it seem like an impossibility. He drags his gloved hand one last time down the front of your torso to watch goosebumps appear on your skin as he admires the mess he’s made of you, cunt still dripping with his cum even if it looks to your eyes to only be covered in your own wetness. You shudder at the disconnect between what you feel and what you see. “I’ll sell your damn Monocane.”

Jack hums a happy little sound at your response, more outwardly pleased than you ever thought a temperamental man like him capable of. “Excellent. I’ll get you a good supply to start with by tomorrow, along with instructions on how to properly store and serve it. We’ll worry about silly little things such as price and your own cut of the profits tomorrow.” He assumedly tucks himself back into his pants before zipping them up, then moving to collect his lost glove from the floor and tug it back on. With that, he now looks as normal as he ever did from an outsider’s perspective, in stark contrast to you, lying across the table with no shirt, your skirt hiked up past your waist, pupils blown wide, and sporting at least one large new hickey on your neck.

You sit up, blinking hard at Jack as he seems quite prepared to leave for the night. “Already leaving?” As soon as the words exit your mouth, you chastise yourself for expecting anything else at the end of this. You’re not even sure what you would rather him do, you just have a dull yearning for…something.

He adjusts his jacket, regarding you with a side glance rather than looking directly at you. “What, were you looking for a cuddle?” The question comes out as more of a joke than a prod at you for wanting more, which is a relief. You at least feel like you’re getting pretty good at inferring his mood from his tone of voice and body language without visible expressions to aid you. “How about a promise that I’ll be returning for more again soon, hm? Will that keep you warm enough for tonight?”

A blush creeps across your face at the confirmation that his bold declarations during sex may have actually held some truth to them. “Fine.” You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “And are you really gonna steal my underwear, too?”

Jack freezes in the middle of his final clothing adjustments before laughing that same genuine laugh one more time for you, turning back to fix you with a look that you would swear is at least slightly fond, although you may just be seeing what your mind would like to see. “You know, reasonable intelligence is hard to come by in this town.” Without answering your question, he strides over to the front door and lifts the wooden locking latch before brazenly pushing it open, leaning back to finish his last thought as he makes his escape. “So try not to die on me, darling.” With that, the door slams shut behind him, and you hear his laughter just beyond the door gradually fade away. You’re left alone in the silent tavern, old wooden windmill creaking despondently in the nighttime breeze high above you, to come to terms with your changed relationship to Jack, your roles so quickly shifting into that of not only reluctant business partners, but something else entirely, something that you’re not quite able to clearly define as of yet. Whatever it is, you hope that it doesn’t come to an end anytime soon.

Author’s Note: this fic has been brought to you by the actual time i put into researching victorian era slang for genitals/sex. did you know cunt is the oldest slang word for vagina that we know of, and it dates back to the 13th century? crazy! but i digress. jack griffin nation, you may be small now but you shall grow! grow! i command it! i just love a rude scientist full of hubris, if you couldn’t tell, and i’d love to see others making more reader insert content for him. this setup was inspired by the fact that i keep seeing tiktoks of jack constantly plugging that damn monocane being sold at the burning blade, which made me wonder how the hell he made a deal with what seems to be a pretty reputable tavern to sell it. and i thought well, if i owned the tavern, it might’ve gone a little something like this…! also i hope i got the hounds right bc i only met the character of quinton mccreedy in person briefly but i’ve seen tiktoks of a few others (still not totally sure how many hounds there actually are which is why i kept it purposefully vague lol), so i worked in what i could and hopefully the characterizations are correct enough. but yeah hope y’all enjoyed, please leave a comment so i can know that you guys are out there, somewhere, enjoying this extremely niche content

[robotic-rin]

Hi your Beetlejuice fics are amazing and I literally can't stop thinking about them uwu

ah thank you so much!! 😊 i’m very happy to hear that you enjoyed them so much

[robotic-rin]

fuuuuck i forgot i have a fanfic tumblr blog. i gotta post my damn invisible man x reader over here i’ve been slacking

[robotic-rin]

Chapters: 1/2

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply 

Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines 

Characters: Bill Cipher, Ford Pines, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez, Axolotl (Gravity Falls), Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Wendy Corduroy 

Additional Tags: Triangle Bill Cipher, Handyman Bill Cipher, but also kinda my spin on the whole idea, Hurt/Comfort, more like angst/catharsis tbh, Unreliable Narrator, Porn With Plot, chapter 1 is the plot chapter 2 is the porn, Hate Sex, or something adjacent to the concept, Orgasm Edging, Degradation, Size Difference, Medical Kink, more specifically science lab kink if that’s a thing, Fingering, Tentacle Sex, they’re only lightly involved but they are in there, bill cipher has weird anatomy, Triangle Sex, so jazzed about getting to use that tag, bill gets a taste of his own medicine emotions-wise and he is not a fan, his relationship with ford is sooo messy but like how can it not be, after 1000 years of therapy bill has learned and applied like maybe 4 things, he’s vaguely being a try-angle but jury’s still out on any true redemption, once again everything is consensual but their dynamic is toxic and unhealthy in a fun new way 

Series: Part 2 of Surface Tension

Summary: 

Despite the fact that he spent one thousand years in a time-dilated therapy dimension (give or take a decade), Bill still remembered every little detail of his time with one Stanford Pines all too well. Being forced into close proximity as a begrudging Mystery Shack employee with no powers to speak of was difficult enough on its own, but Bill also wasn’t quite ready to accept just how much the tables had turned after thirty years, their original roles woefully reversed. Or maybe, depending on how you looked at it, not so woefully. He was still deciding.

[robotic-rin]

You Know I'll Take You There

Logan Howlett/Wolverine (any version) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,687

Rating: M (18+ only!)

Summary: You and Logan enjoy some time together.

Warnings: Smut, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, blow jobs, hair-pulling (just a bit. not a focus), reader is afab but not referred to with pronouns or any other descriptors really

(Note: deadpool and wolverine resurrected my love for logan from when i was 16. sorry if this sucks i have worms in my brain (also the title is a lyric from like a prayer bc im corny and couldnt think of a title. enjoy!).

“Oh, fuck–” 

You’ve been at this for what feels like hours.

Your eyes are squeezed shut against the unrelenting pressure of Logan’s fingers rubbing quick circles into your clit, your back pressed flush against his front as you sit between his legs. Your legs are spread open wide, his hand holding one of your thighs in place. His rough, calloused skin was doing wonders for you, making your hips twitch under his touch. When he pulled them away just as that pleasure in your stomach was at its peak, you let out a frustrated groan. It’s all so hot, suffocatingly so, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin as your muscles twitch with the stimulation.

He anticipates that you’ll run your mouth and complain about the tease, so Logan dips his middle finger between your folds. A pleased thrill prickles at the back of his neck at the wet heat as he curls the digit. You’re always so good for him, and he’s keen on expressing his appreciation by giving you what you desperately crave. Well, when he’s good and damn ready, that is.

“I know, I know,” he mutters into your ear. “Quit cryin’, bub.”

His words hold no irritation, his tone dripping in affection for you. Logan’s ring finger slides in, both fingers hooking into you and pressing unyieldingly into that spot. His ears and neck burn, his heart racing at the wet sound of your pleasure.

He feels you tighten around his fingers, walls pulsing around him, and he takes his hand away. Both you and Logan pause, breathless as you watch the way your arousal coats his fingers and palm.

You turn to face him, face warm with shame and excitement.

“L-Logan–” You begin to beg, but you’re interrupted by his fingers on your clit again. You cry out, head thrown back on his shoulder as your body trembles helplessly.

Logan smirks against your neck, drowning in the noises you make and the way your thighs shake. He kisses your ear before letting out a teasing, pleased hum.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, all soft and sweet, a tone he saves just for you. “Cum for me.”

You obey, unable to do much else but choke out a moan and writhe against him, electric pleasure crackling over your dampened skin and making your back arch. One of your shaking hands reaches up to grab at anything to ground yourself, your fingers finding his hair and pulling. In the haze of your orgasm, you don’t hear the way he grunts in pleasure, don’t feel the way his back straightens up when you tug on his hair.

“Fuck, Logan…” You pant out, your chest heaving in shuddering breaths. He kisses your neck, your cheek, anything he can reach as he soothes you through the aftershocks.

“How was that?” He asks, smug as always as he presses a final kiss to your temple before he situates you to lay back on the pillows. He stands, looking down at you with that look, that prideful little expression he gets when he knows he’s done good work. It’s cute how pleased he is with himself.

“G-good,” you reply, your mouth dry and your heart still pounding. You sit up, head spinning with the movement.

You can tell he’s feeling some kind of way, his hair mussed from where you grabbed it, his chest rising and falling shallowly. He clears his throat, hooking a thumb into his belt loop as he fixes his tank top in an attempt to look decent. His cheeks are a pleasant shade of pink, something that always makes you swoon when you get to see it.

“I’ll get ya some water, bub.” He chuckles, reaching down to ruffle your hair with his clean hand. Your face burns.

“No, it’s fine, let me–” You try to stand, and that’s when it really hits you; your ears are ringing, head swimming. You fall back onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

Concern flashes across Logan’s face for a second, soon replaced with an utterly shit-eating grin.

“That good, huh?” He says, chest puffing up a bit more. He always knew how to make you feel good, but it was a rarity to see you like this.

“Oh shut up,” you bite back weakly, startled to find your own voice is muffled in your ears. He really did a number on you.

Logan makes his way to your shared bathroom to clean up first, confidence oozing from his gait as he walks. You glare at him all the while, hoping he can feel your irritation.

“I’m gonna get you back for this, Howlett,” you call after him. You’re winded again, flopping back onto the bed to recover.

“Sure you will, sweets,” he says once he emerges from the bathroom. A sly little grin dances on his lips as he passes by you on the bed once more, and he reaches down to pinch your cheek in that way he knows you pretend to hate.

Logan closes the door behind himself after he leaves the room altogether, leaving you to plot your revenge as you wait for his return.

–

He expected you to make good on your threat, but he didn’t expect you to have him like this.

Logan’s chest heaves, his skin flushed as he grips the sheets below him. You’d ordered him to keep his hands to himself, an hour and a half ago, and it just might be starting to unravel him. He wants nothing more than to touch you, kiss you, anything he can get.

Your mouth is heaven on him, warm and wet and unrelenting. Logan’s head tips back onto the mattress, exposing that tempting column of skin to you. When you take him out of your mouth, stroking him with just your fingers, he groans.

“Doll, you’re killin’ me here,” he grits out. “Let me-”

He lets out a choked moan when you take his cock into your mouth again.

This time, you’ll let him cum. You’ve decided that much. You’ve also decided that you won’t stop once that happens, not unless Logan wants to.

It doesn’t take much longer until Logan is finishing in your mouth, a relieved moan reaching your ears and sending a shiver down your spine. You swallow around him, using your hand to pump what you can’t fit in your mouth. Your other hand is gripping his inner thigh, squeezing the muscle with a moan.

When you continue even after his orgasm has passed, Logan props himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with an expression halfway between confusion and pure bliss.

“Baby,” he pants out, his voice rough and almost shaky with pleasure. “Baby, I already-”

He knows what to say to get you to stop. He chooses to bring a hand to your hair instead, guiding your head gently along his oversensitive cock. You decide to let it slide, silently dissolving the ‘no touching’ rule as an act of mercy to him.

Logan’s head lolls back, his hips bucking up into your mouth just once before he’s able to control himself. The hand that isn’t on your head reaches up to card through his own hair, his fingers clenching around a fistful of it and tugging with the effort of remaining still. You don’t let up, not in the slightest, your mouth and hand working over him until his thighs are trembling and tensing around your head once again.

He cums again, the pleasure far more intense this time, his chest heaving as you swallow around him once again. You’d never tire of how he could cum multiple times in a row. On days you’re feeling particularly evil, you could wring three out of him before he’s writhing and half-trying to escape. Alas, your reign of terror is over at two when Logan’s fingers tap against your scalp to get your attention, causing you to finally take him out of your mouth.

“Good?” You ask, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Your hands tease over his still-trembling thighs, appreciating the way his skin erupts in goosebumps at the sensation. Logan lays back on the mattress as he catches his breath, giving you a weak nod.

“Yeah,” he pants, chuckling under his breath at the proud smile you give him when he glances down at you. “Yeah, it was good. Great.”

You hover over him, both hands planted on the mattress on either side of his head, eagerly drinking in that lovely post-orgasm warmth that colors his skin. His hair sticks up in all directions, unstyled from the way he carded his fingers through it. 

“You’re so pretty,” you breathe, an awestruck little smile on your lips. “And so good for me.”

Logan’s breath catches in a way that is unbecoming of the Wolverine, but he can’t help it when you’re above him and speaking to him so gently. His hand reaches up to cup your jaw, and he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth with a satisfied sigh.

“Likewise, darlin’,” he says against your skin, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

Logan catches that look in your eye then, that mischievous little gleam paired with the way your heart rate picks up ever so slightly. He groans, his head falling back into the mattress, and you take that moment to dive in and press warm, open-mouthed kisses to his neck.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he complains, his hands wrapping around your shoulders to hold you tight against him. “You can’t seriously have the energy for more.”

“You can say no, you know,” you reply, words muffled against the heated skin of his neck. You nose at the spot just below his ear, and he shivers just like you knew he would.

“You know I won’t,” he bites back, sounding anything but reluctant. You sigh against his skin, a grin tugging at your lips as you bite at the muscle in his neck.

“Good,” you purr, relishing in the way Logan seems to hold you even tighter. “Because I believe you’ve got one more orgasm for me.”

[robotic-rin]

Oklahoma is attempting to pass a bill that would ban explicit romance novels. Authors, narrators, and sellers could all face fines of up to $100,000 and up to 10 years in jail for each instance.

If you live in OK, call your representative and tell them this bill should not be allowed to pass.

This is likely a test case. Republicans will try to pass it in OK and if it passes other states will likely try to pass similar laws.

In the meantime, get physical copies of books you like. Download those pdfs. Archive your AO3 stories and keep them on a physical hard drive. (Storing those files in the cloud could be problematic in the future as the company managing the cloud service can see what your files are)

[robotic-rin]

about me!

hey folks, i’m rindi! i write all sorts of fics here and on ao3 (Robotic_Rin) from reader inserts to ships for a myriad of different fandoms. the fics are usually of the explicit variety, so let’s keep it adults only in here, please. i do tend to write slowly as i’m currently getting my bachelor’s degree in creative writing while working a job with a long commute, but i try to make sure that what i do publish is quality work for y’all!

thank you all for reading my silly little stories and laughing at my bad jokes!! 😚

[robotic-rin]

This is me. Kinda jealous of all the writers who can write quickly because I can't.

[robotic-rin]

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Relationship: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14,000

Summary: Ford hated to say he was struggling to keep up the pace on the portal, but he was. Between working himself to exhaustion and reckoning with unresolved post-karaoke night feelings, how could anyone expect him to focus on writing equations? Noticing his distraction, his enigmatic muse offers to help him out, but Bill only does favors for humans if he knows he’s going to get something out of it as well.

Or: Ford wants to be studied like a scientific experiment, Bill wants to be worshipped like a god.

Main Tags: Triangle Bill Cipher, Pre-Portal Incident (Gravity Falls), Blow Jobs, Dream Sex, Praise Kink, Consensual Possession, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Mirror Sex, Overstimulation, Forced Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Degradation, Possessive Behavior, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Psychological Smut, Manipulative Bill Cipher

[robotic-rin]

Why Wait For The Best When I Could Have You

(Beetlejuice x Reader)

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!!

[robotic-rin]

I Can't Wait For You To Shut Me Up

Beetlejuice x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3,829

Rating: M (18+ only!)

Summary: You are determined to shut Beetlejuice up. Things don't pan out like you planned.

Warnings: Smut, hair-pulling, biting, light bondage, rough sex (this is so embarrassing)

(Note: I got my Bachelor's degree during the development of this fic. I'm using my education well. Also everyone tell me what lingerie YOU would wanna see Beetlejuice in. Like, as a fun little community discussion.)

Life was attacking you from all sides today, it seemed. Your coworkers were trying your patience, your budget was getting tighter and tighter by the day, and it didn't help that your car's A/C was busted in the middle of summer.

And at the end of it all, you got to come home to your lovely demon and his incessant need to push your buttons. It was like a love language to him. Right now, he was determined to stop you from doing the laundry by holding your detergent hostage. He sat on the washer with the detergent clutched in his hands protectively while you attempted to wrestle it from him.

"Babes, please, you look like hell right now. Which is pretty hot, I won't lie-" He stopped to laugh a little at his own joke, and you couldn't tell what was more annoying, the pun or his self-satisfied grin. "-but you should take it easy tonight!"

"I don't want to take it easy, I wanna do my fucking laundry," you snarled at him, swiping at the container in his hand. He quickly moved it just out of reach. Your forward momentum sent you colliding face-first into his torso. The physical struggle that you now found yourself in was bordering on a turn-on, which was interesting to say the least. That was new. You supposed dating a demon came with some new awakenings.

"I will drink this," he warned, and it was enough to stop you during your attempt to pull at his arm because he would, and he has done that before. You seethed; his stupid fucking face was inches from yours, those stupid fucking lips pulled into a pout, and you weren't sure if you should kiss him or choke him out with his own tie. Both sounded amazing right about now. Instead, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves.

"Beej, let me finish this and I promise we can hang out and I'll relax. Deal?"

He held your gaze for a long moment, his eyes narrowed skeptically as he studied you. 

"Fine," he grumbled, hopping off of the washer. "Do your laundry or whatever. Ignore your loving boyfriend who just wants the best for you! Whatever!"

Beetlejuice dragged his feet on the way out of the laundry room, occasionally glancing back to see if you'd even look at him. When you didn't, he grumbled some more. Still nothing. He heaved out an obnoxious sigh, which finally got you to look up.

"Beej, please, will you shut the fuck up?" You shook your head a little before turning back to finish adjusting the settings on the washer. 

Beetlejuice's eyebrows shot up in surprise, then a slow smirk spread across his face. Oh, you really were pissed at him. Not only that, but he could practically smell the shift in tension earlier. Your quickening heart rate, dilated pupils and warm skin told him everything he needed to know. If he played his cards right, he knew he could offer you the best stress relief he knew of, and he knew just the line to use.

"Why don't you make me ?"

The speed at which your head swiveled in his direction was almost scary. The ferocity of your glare was actually scary. If Beetlejuice was a normal guy, he'd fear for his safety. Luckily, he was a demon, and the kind of demon who found annoying someone into fucking him to be incredibly rewarding.

You barely remembered dragging Beetlejuice by the tie into your shared bedroom, that's how clouded your mind became with one simple goading phrase. You shoved him back onto the mattress, straddling his waist and grabbing the lapels of his suit jacket to kiss him. Before your lips could make contact, he was gone. He reappeared a few feet away from the foot of the bed, laughing to himself at your frustrated face.

"Ah-ah-ah! Not so fast, schnookums. It's time for…." A drum roll sounded off, and with a flick of his wrist, a long list appeared in his hands. Beetlejuice adjusted a pair of reading glasses on his nose. "What Are Our Boundaries Today?"

You groaned, flopping onto your back on the mattress underneath you. The 'What Are Our Boundaries Today?' segment always took so long. You were beginning to think he did that on purpose.

"Teeth?"

"Yes."

"Claws?"

"Yeah."

"Restraints?"

" Please. " You sighed dramatically, hoping Beetlejuice would get the hint and hurry up so you could have your way with him. You took your pants off, balling them up and throwing them at Beetlejuice’s head. He easily dodged it, as well as the shirt and underwear that followed sooner after. You crossed your arms in a huff and laid back down.

"And how much pain would you like to experience today?" He said easily, never once looking up at you.

"Can we fucking get on with it, please?" He peered at you over his glasses, giving you a hard glare that served to simultaneously piss you off further and make you squirm. ".....Medium pain." 

Beetlejuice nodded, checking off boxes with a pen he got out of nowhere. He studied the list a moment more, but it felt like an eternity. Yeah, he was definitely doing this shit on purpose. Your heart was racing, your face warming with irritation and anticipation for what you wanted next.

"Okay! Well you know the drill, I'm down for anything, and the safeword is 'stripes', because of course it is." Beetlejuice snapped, the paper and glasses disappearing (which you lamented a bit; maybe you'd ask him to wear those again some other time).

"Finally," you groaned, sitting upright again. "Aren't you supposed to be a demon or something? I wouldn't think a real demon would spend this much time stalling before sex." 

You didn't mean any of this, obviously. You loved how attentive he was, although it did shock you at first. But of course, you weren't going to let him annoy the shit out of you without returning the energy in kind. Beetlejuice's self-satisfied smirk dropped. Then you were flat on your back once more, your demon pinning you to the bed with a firm grip on your face to force you to look at him. Despite your current position, you were amused to find his hair turning a striking magenta, with a few streaks of red mixed in to boot. You must have been smiling, because Beetlejuice's glare darkened even further, and he leaned down to speak right into your ear.

"Fucking watch it. I'm starting to get annoyed now." His voice was lower than usual, his gravelly tone sounding more demonic than ever. His claws dug into your face ever so slightly. His teeth were bared (were they always that sharp?), and his breath was cool and wet against your ear. 

Then he was back to normal, or as normal as he could manage, with that smug little grin on his face once again. You were left breathless and wide eyed, pupils blown out as you stared at him.

"Oh, but we're here because you wanted to shut me up. Please, by all means, make me ."

And there he was, pissing you off again. You grabbed his shirt and secured your legs on either side of him, using all your strength to flip him on his back and come out on top. You elected to ignore the fact that he definitely could have resisted the attempt if he really wanted to. Your shaking fingers fumbled with his tie, trying to get it off as quickly as possible.

"Having a little trouble there, babes?" Beetlejuice asked, feigning genuine concern. "Lemme help-"

You shut him up with your fingers in his mouth and down his throat, which he accepted with a very dignified gag. He didn't even have a gag reflex, but he knew you loved it when he was noisy.

You ripped the tie off of his neck with your free hand. Taking your fingers out of his mouth, a delighted shudder crawled up your spine at the feeling of his teeth scraping against your flesh. You held the tie taut in both hands, giving Beetlejuice a look that had him immediately scooting up to lean on the headboard of your bed and present his wrists to you.

"Be gentle," he pleaded, batting his eyelashes at you. His grin told you he meant the opposite.

You rolled your eyes, roughly pinning his wrists above his head and tying them up to the headboard. You tightened the cloth as much as possible, even though you knew Beetlejuice could easily escape if he wanted to. Despite this, he had the nerve to whine about it. 

After unbuttoning his shirt fully, you straddled his hips to admire the view. The urge to just play with his nipples until he came his brains out called to you like a siren song, but you knew exactly what you wanted to do instead.

"My eyes are up here, perv." Beetlejuice smirked at you, shifting as if to present you with an even better look at his bare skin. You ran your hands up his soft stomach and over his pecs. The feeling of the hair on his stomach and chest under your hands made you sigh.

"Mm, I'm sorry," you lied, pinching his nipples just to watch him squirm. "Your tits just look so good. Y'think we should invest in some lingerie for next time?"

Beetlejuice's hair was practically glowing magenta at this point. 

"Why wait for next time, babes?" You blinked, and he was in a lacy black bra under his open shirt. You could only imagine what he'd conjured below the belt. 

"Are you trying to get on my good side? I'm supposed to be mad at you, y'know." You kissed a trail down his chest and stomach. Beetlejuice purred out a sigh at the feeling of your hands tugging at his pants. Your eyebrows practically shot up to your hairline when you saw black lace panties, garters, and thigh highs. 

"Oh, baby, I can piss you off all over again if ya like," he said airily. He was having far too much fun with this, evidenced by his hard dick straining against the see-through fabric of his underwear. 

You palmed Beetlejuice through the thin fabric, smiling at how he tugged on his restraints. He knew just how to act like he was helpless under you. His hips bucked as he tried to take more than you offered. 

"Hey, I'll make you wait longer before I suck your dick if you don't sit still," you warned. Beetlejuice froze immediately, his eyes wide. It was almost comical, but his cock was right in front of your face now and it was no laughing matter. 

You pulled the lace fabric down further, admiring how his dick twitched when you took it in your hand. Beetlejuice's naturally cold body would never cease to amaze you. You ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, an appreciative noise leaving your throat at the cool sensation. Beetlejuice sighed, trying his hardest to keep still even when all he wanted to do was fuck your throat until you gagged on him. Finally, you were taking him into your mouth as much as you were able. He always loved the feeling of your mouth on him, the warmth almost overwhelming him completely. He could have finished right then and there in your mouth if you hadn’t pulled away, instead opting to rub tight circles at his slit with your thumb. Beetlejuice grunted in frustration, using all of his willpower not to just rip through his restraints. 

“Are you planning on fucking with me all day?” Beetlejuice whined. “Don’t mess with me.”

“Fine, since you’re doing so well,” you praised him, kissing the head of his cock. “My pretty boy.”

You took him in your mouth again, using your hand to stroke what you weren’t able to fit. The moment you massaged his balls in your hand and his cock hit the back of your throat, Beetlejuice was finished. The moan that tore from his throat was one of the most delightful sounds you’d ever heard. You knew better than to swallow, so you let him do it instead; you kissed him, reveling in the noises he made as you forced his cum down his throat. It was kind of gross, but you were dating possibly one of the grossest guys ever. In fact, the first time he had you do this, he said he was ‘recycling’. You half-believed that he in fact did have some kind of nut-recycling system in his body; you didn’t know how demons worked really, so anything was possible.

You pulled away and Beetlejuice panted, his mouth hanging open invitingly. You traced a thumb along his glistening bottom lip, admiring the feeling of his cool breath fanning over your skin. 

"You gonna behave for me now, bug?" You cooed, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'll fuck you for real if you do."

Your nails scratched along his jaw gently, the feeling of his beard pleasant under your fingers. He sighed sweetly, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned up into your touch. His hands found their way to your thighs, and the bite of his claws in your skin startled you. You realized too late that you hadn't undone his restraints.

Beetlejuice's eyes snapped open, his pupils narrowed into slits.

"Not a chance in hell." 

The speed with which he had you flipped onto your stomach left you dizzy. One of his fingers was inside of you without a moment's hesitation. You could never get used to the way Beetlejuice could just… conjure up lube. Honestly, it should concern you more, but there wasn't any time for that now. He wasted no time in adding a second finger, and the feeling made you twist your hands into the sheets.

The slick sound of his free hand rubbing at his own cock bordered on obscene, but you couldn't help the need to look over your shoulder just to see how worked up he was because of you. Every time you registered the sheer size of him you briefly wondered if you could even take it, but there had never been an issue. He made sure of that.

"For someone who loves to act all dominant, you sure are eager to get dicked down," Beetlejuice teased. "Just look at you, baby. All ready for me."

You nodded your agreement wordlessly, your throat drying up at the feeling of his cock pressed against where you needed him most. The stretch had your eyes fluttering shut, a shaky sigh leaving your lips at the slow and seemingly endless feeling.

His claws scraped at your scalp, not enough to hurt, but enough to have your eyes rolling up into your skull. His fist closed around a handful of your hair, and that did hurt in a way that had you tightening up around him.

"That good, pumpkin?" His chest was flush against your back now, and you could feel the vibration of his voice through your ribcage. It made you shiver, even as you rolled your eyes at him.

"Please don't fucking call me pumpkin while you're fully inside me." You gasped when he leaned over your shoulder to nip at your jaw.

"Sorry, doll." He laughed when you twitched around him again. "Oh, ya like that one? Doll ?"

You groaned out a pitiful attempt at a protest, but the way he slowly rolled his hips into yours stole your breath. His free hand gripped your hip, his claws no doubt leaving an imprint on your skin. You wondered if they would draw blood, and the thought of red smeared on your skin made you moan. 

"You look pretty slutty right now," your demon laughed, fully fucking into you now. Your back arched when he tugged on your hair again. "You're such a whore."

Beetlejuice loved this, having you ass-up and subdued. You weren't about to admit you loved it too, seeing as you were fully committed to being as much of a nuisance as possible.

"You're talking a big game for someone who's been moaning like a bitch this entire time," you panted, twisting your neck the best you could to see his expression.

Instead of dignifying you with a response, Beetlejuice pushed your face into the mattress, pinning you down with his body. The way he picked up his pace left you winded. He was filling you up too well, almost concerningly so, hitting that spot inside of you that had you crying out. 

"Oh, you take it so well. You're lovin' this, huh?" Beetlejuice was eating up your reactions, so much so that he couldn't resist having just a little taste of you. He bit down on your shoulder, just enough to break the skin ever so slightly. The noise you made nearly sent him over the edge, but he persevered.

The sting of his fangs in your flesh had you tearing up, your mouth hanging open. He was still relentlessly fucking you, still keeping an iron grip on you with one hand, still holding your head down into the mattress with the other. You felt powerless under him, something that made your heart race and your skin burn hot.

"Beej–" You managed to croak out before having your breath stolen by him once again. Gasps and moans wracked your body under him, and he hummed a low and pitying sound in your ear. You were so close, you could practically taste it.

"Is it too much? Here, let me make it better." His long tongue slithered along your cheek as if to punctuate his statement. 

Cold tendrils coiled around your limbs, and you felt yourself being lifted off of the mattress. The feeling of Beetlejuice’s cock slipping out of you left you empty, but you didn’t have time to complain when you were upright and face to face with him. Tentacles held you in place, restricting your movement. Beetlejuice loomed over you, seeming larger than you’d ever seen him, his gaze dark and downright predatory. 

"Aww, c'mere sweetface. I’ve got you." He cooed, his voice once again distorting into something deep and intimidating that had a shiver running down your spine. He took your face in his claws and drew you in for a kiss, his tongue working its way into your mouth and easily overtaking yours in a matter of seconds. Not that you had any fight left in you anyway.

If you were of sound mind, you would have noticed that you had no idea Beetlejuice even had tentacles, but here he was, looming over you with at least six of them emerging from his back. Despite the amount of times the two of you had screwed, he’d truly been holding out on you. It was almost impressive that he’d kept this to himself for so long. The slimy appendages would have disgusted you if they weren’t caressing every part of you so well. Goosebumps broke out on your skin as they glided across your chest, rubbing against your nipples and making you pant. Your arms were pinned behind your back, your legs were pulled open wide, and your demon was settling himself in between them with a wicked grin.

Being manhandled like this left you trembling. He was inside of you again in one hard thrust that left you out of breath, and he left you no chance to regain your composure before he was driving his hips into yours at a pace you couldn’t hope to match now. You were content to allow Beetlejuice to use you; and use you he did. You leaned up against him, finding it strangely sweet how his free arm was supporting your back, even as his other hand had your thigh in a vice grip. You couldn’t hear yourself over his voice in your ear, low and gravelly and wrecked beyond all belief. He was always loud, but you could tell he was nearly finished with the way his face was pressed up against your neck as he moaned. You were too, you had been so close for so long.

“I’m gonna cum, Beej–” Your legs flexed against the tentacles that still bound you, your body tensing up against his as you gasped for air. Beetlejuice laughed, though he sounded no better than you did.

“You’re so cute,” he said against your skin, and you could feel him drooling on you. Kind of gross, but mostly hot. “So fuckin’ desperate for it. Cum for me, babes.”

You were released from your restraints at the last moment, allowing you to grab at Beetlejuice’s face and hair and kiss him deeply in an attempt to ground yourself as you came. You tightened around him hard, and he made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sob as he rolled his hips up into yours. Like the rest of him, his cum was weirdly cold, and it made you shiver to feel it filling you up. The two of you maintained an iron grip on one another for a few moments, with you trying to catch your breath and Beetlejuice just milking every second of your warmth that he could. Then you were collapsing back onto the mattress and taking him down with you.

There was a long silence. Beetlejuice situated you both to lay on your sides so he could hold you to his chest, massaging your scalp soothingly. He could never get enough contact with you, and that increased tenfold after sex. You kissed his chest with a contented smile, your hands rubbing up and down his torso. Then you realized he'd surprised you earlier.

“So when the fuck were you going to tell me about the tentacles?!” You looked up at him, poking him in the stomach hard. "Since when could you do that?"

“Pumpkinhead, I can do all sorts of weird shit, and the tentacles are what shock you?” He bit your cheek gently, his favorite way to tell you that you were being kind of dumb. You grumbled at him, swatting his face away.

“Stop calling me pumpkinhead. Also I can’t believe I let you top in that .” You snapped the strap of the bra he’d been wearing the entire time. Your cheeks still burned at the sight of it, and they burned even hotter when Beetlejuice lifted his leg to drape across your hip. You trailed your fingers along his knee and up his thigh, marveling at how the tight sheer fabric of his stocking hugged his leg. If you weren't so exhausted, you could totally go for another round and finish what you started when you promised to 'fuck him for real'. 

Beetlejuice pressed a hand over his heart solemnly, looking you in the eye with a deadly serious expression.

“Babes, I’ll take you in anything. Always know that.”

[robotic-rin]

oh uhhh so i draw. dropping these nefarious little sketches here

dont mind that they all look so inconsistent im still figuring him out

[robotic-rin]

Put Your Loving Hand Out, Baby ('Cause I'm Beggin')

Beetlejuice x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3,060

Rating: M (18+ only please)

Summary:  Beetlejuice discovers his overwhelming need to get fucked in the ass (lovingly, with affection and care).

Warnings: Smut, pegging, vaguely described phallic.. thing the reader has that can hopefully be read as a strap or a dick

(Note: This is my first real smut so if this sucks just look the other way. Enjoy!)

Beetlejuice had always told himself that the day he submitted to a breather would be the day hell froze over. No matter who he was bumping uglies with, he was always the one in control. All of his partners understood that perfectly well.

So how in the fresh hell did you have him pliant in your hands, dangerously close to just begging for you to use him?

And why did he love it?

Keep reading

[robotic-rin]

Sometimes You Scare Me, But I Come Around To You

Beetlejuice x GN!Reader 

Word Count: 1,697 

Rating: T (for like, swearing and stuff lol)

Summary: Beetlejuice decides to contribute to society by getting a seasonal job at a haunted house. You decide to overcome your fear of haunted houses. (Post-musical meet-cute. Or meet-scary. Meet-strange?)

Warnings: None! This is just a silly one.

(Haven’t posted a fic in a very long time, please bear with me and hope you enjoy!)

It should come as no surprise that Beetlejuice, the demon that he is, is utterly infatuated with haunted houses. Not just any haunted house, mind you, but those that he considers the “real deal”. Atmosphere, suspense, believable scares, and high-energy scare actors; those were the elements Beetlejuice busied himself admiring on the occasions he dropped into a haunted house. Of course, this was all while participating in the fun himself. Sure, he’s fucked up a few scares for some actors over the years, but honestly, who cares?

He’d been doing this shit since the turn of the 20th century. No matter how impressive the effects were, he was going to show the breathers how it was done, which is precisely why he decided that in his effort to put his amazing demonic talents to appropriate use, he would get himself a job at a local haunted house each autumn. Like a normie. Somehow, it didn’t feel as demeaning as it sounded.

Over the years, Beetlejuice found that he absolutely loved the breathers who weren’t subtle about their fear. Of course, getting the tough guys to crack had its perks, but there was nothing quite like following closely behind someone who was shaking in their boots before he’d even done anything. Their reactions satisfied him the most.

Especially if they were alone.

Keep reading

[robotic-rin]

Psychosomatic Freedom (To Your Head)

(Beetlejuice x Reader)

Summary: Renting out the spare bedroom in the Maitland/Deetz mansion was wacky enough when you found out you’d be living with real life ghosts, but things only got more intense when a certain demon was thrown into the mix as well. Not only does he pride himself on annoying you whenever you’re busy, but he chooses to do so in ways that make you regrettably very horny for him. You do well at keeping your flustered reactions under control when you’re around him, but please try to remember that he WILL appear if you say his name three times, no matter the context or intent.

Word Count: 13,840

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: horny demon escapades, a dash of praise kink, even smaller dash of humiliation kink if you squint, beetlejuice being a bastard but he also whimpers, hurt/comfort, emotionally vulnerable handjobs, afab reader (no gendered terms are used aside from beej referring to reader’s “tits” bc of him being the way that he is), tried to limit my use of (y/n) but it is in there, monster fangs/tongues, overuse of bj’s mood ring hair, beetlejuice is so annoying that he loops back around into being majorly fuckable

Author’s Note: it’s finally happened. i’ve been meaning to write this fic for years, and i finally gathered the willpower to write it all out. i don’t know if i properly followed the post-musical summoning rules but tbh i just wrote this bc i wanna fuck beetlejuice and i didn’t do a lot of lore checking, apologies. i hope y’all enjoy regardless, this demon needs to be dommed so bad and i was more than happy to provide the scenario. anyways, you know the drill: if you’re good with all the tags and are 18+, please enjoy!

You can’t clearly remember the moment you realized that taking up residence in the Maitland/Deetz household was going to be more than you bargained for. The living family was eccentric enough, let alone the fact that they were currently cohabiting with a friendly ghost family. You had to be willing to accept a lot of zany things very quickly when you went in to sign the paperwork to rent out the mansion’s spare bedroom, and you’d say that you’ve taken everything in stride so far, all things considered. Charles and Delia Deetz were nice enough and stayed out of your business just as you did with theirs. They had been a bit strapped for cash after their investment in a gated neighborhood fell through, and it seemed as though they were happy enough to make some money off of renting out their guest bedroom to a sane person who mostly kept to themself. It was a win for everyone, so you got along just fine. Their daughter, Lydia Deetz, was less into staying out of your way, but she wasn’t rude about it by any means. She seemed to just be an eccentric teen who was curious about the person living in her house, and you’d gladly indulge her out-of-the-box conversation topics about the newest death metal bands and join her for an occult ritual or two. Classic teen stuff.

Of course, sharing a house with a living family was one thing, but adding a ghost family to the mix definitely livened things up (ironically). Adam and Barbara Maitland, also known as the previous owners of the house who had suffered a tragic premature death, were not what you expected from real life ghosts. It’s hard to say what you did expect when that bombshell was dropped on you, but it definitely wasn’t two polite suburban Millennials that felt more like a caricature of a couple you’d meet at a vegan farmers’ market than restless spirits haunting their old house. It was a wild day when you met them, assuming that Lydia was having a bit of fun with you when she’d ominously warned you that their house was haunted. But no, she was certainly not, as the couple took your moving-in day as their chance to formally introduce themselves. You didn’t actually believe that they were truly dead until Adam walked through a wall for you days later. Despite being slightly bummed that they didn’t look like the classic ghost with little wispy tails for feet, you were also a bit relieved that, although ghosts definitively exist, they can be just as friendly and unremarkable as any human. Not to say it as a knock against them, you actually found yourself hanging out with the Maitlands more than anyone else in the house. Against all odds, they were the most normal and down-to-earth ones in the whole household, and you were grateful to have them as housemates.

You got to hear all about how they got to the living arrangement they had now, and if you weren’t already rooming with ghosts, you’d have considered it too unbelievable to be true. But you’re glad to hear how well everyone seems to be doing with this new living arrangement, especially Lydia, who it seems had a really rough time of it right after her mom died. All things considered, you were beginning to really enjoy living in such a crazy house with such colorful personalities around you, all unique but living in harmony. Well. At least until he showed up.

You’d been warned that he does this from time to time. Part of their story told how he went from full-on antagonist to the weird uncle of the family, now popping in whenever he felt like it, often unannounced. He always claimed it was just to check in on his favorite mixed-life family, but in reality, it was mostly just to bother everybody.

As long as you live and die, you’ll never forget the first time he’d made one of his surprise visits after you’d moved in. You’d been sitting alone at the long dining room table, minding your own business as you typed away at important work on your laptop, fully lost in your task. Important files for your work lined your screen, all perfectly organized and sorted through after a long day’s work. But then, with no warning, your laptop’s display had changed to a blue screen, causing your eyes to widen in horror as you realized that it had fully died on you and probably lost all of your progress. You felt yourself choke out a horrible sound of despair, before a hand seemingly appeared from nowhere and pulled the blue screen back as though furling up a classroom projector screen, revealing your undisturbed desktop behind it.

“Woah, that was almost a really expensive mistake,” a gruff but playful voice laughed, coming from right next to you. “I forget how touchy technology can be when it comes to spirit energy. My bad, heh.”

You had whipped your head to the side to see a disheveled-looking man with bright green hair dressed in a black-and-white striped suit that looked like it needed to be washed and dry cleaned about 10 years ago. He was grimy, but almost purposefully grimy. Like it was part of his aesthetic. You’d seen some wild happenings in this house, but the sudden materialization of this random weird guy in the dining room was the first to leave you speechless.

“W-what…how…you just….” If first impressions truly were everything, he’d surely always think of you as the pinnacle of eloquence.

The stranger grinned at your reaction, obviously a bit pleased with himself. “No words, huh? Wouldn’t be the first time, I do tend to inspire that reaction in people. My undeniable charms aside, who are you? Some long-lost Deetz cousin visiting from WhoTheFuckKnowsVille or something?”

You finally regained enough of your speech abilities to respond just in time. “Uh, no. Just…renting the spare bedroom. No relation.” There was a moment of silence as he looked at you inquisitively, before you remembered your manners. “Um, I’m (Y/N). Am I right to assume that you’re Beetlejuice?” Hey, why do I need to have manners after he almost just fried my laptop? Your bitter thoughts go unfortunately unanswered.

He looked positively elated at your words, his dark eyes visibly lighting up as he sidled up next to you in your chair, ignoring the fact that it was clearly only made for one person. “Oh, wonderful! I get to skip the charades part with you. You’re already my new favorite person just for that, you don’t know how much I hate playing guessing games when the answer hasn’t changed in hundreds of years. But yes, that’s my name, don’t wear it out. Unless you want to see me. Then all you gotta do is say it three times in a row, and I’m there, baby. Morning or night, rain or shine.” Boy, this guy talks a lot.

You nodded slowly, still bewildered. “Ah, alright. Sounds good. Did you…need anything?” You couldn’t, for the life of you, get an idea of what Beetlejuice would be doing here.

He huffed noncommittally. “Well, usually I come around to see everyone here, since the Netherworld gets reeeaaaalllly boring. But lately, Lydia’s gone so much at school, and my old flames Adam and Barbara don’t always have time for lil ol’ me anymore…” He made a pitiful little face and rested his head on your shoulder, acting like a kicked dog. Despite his bad manners and lack of personal space, you felt a piece of yourself feel bad for the demon. Looking back, that was your first mistake.

“Hey, don’t be upset. I know we just met, but if you come by and nobody’s here, I could always…hang out? For a bit?” And that was mistake number two.

His full demeanor shifted in an instant, as though you’d activated a switch on him that could never be turned off. “Really? You’d spend time? With me?” For a demon, he did have very effective puppy dog eyes. If you weren’t locked in on what you said before, you had to be now, looking him in the eye as he turned his full body towards you, inches from your face.

“Sure, I’m usually just hanging out around the house getting work done anyway. I could use a little company sometimes.” It felt more like you were talking yourself into this decision rather than him.

“Oh friend, you won’t regret it! We’ll have such a nice time together, I can just feel it. Don’t ask where, heh.” He pulled out a small business card from thin air and slid it smoothly between your fingers. “And remember babes, you want me, you just call my name. I wouldn’t keep someone as smokin’ as you waiting. Not like I have a choice.” Snickering to himself, he’d disappeared in a flash, leaving you with your head spinning as you wondered exactly what you’d agreed to.

As time passed, you found that you didn’t even need to call his name for Beetlejuice to show up in the middle of your day and start pestering you. Eventually, it got to a point where, even when the other members of the family were around, he’d still choose to hang around you over them at times. After a good while, you got to a point where you nearly forgot that calling his name three times would summon him due to how often he popped in of his own volition with no warning at all. And somehow, he only ever seemed to do this on days where you had something that really needed to get done, never just on a day where you were already lazing about on the couch and eating snacks. No, instead, he acted like a bored cat with no sense of responsibility whose only goal was to distract you, and it’s a goal that he prided himself in succeeding at through various methods. Turning your pencil into a baby sandworm, making the keys on your laptop keyboard detach and float away, grabbing whatever you’re working on and zipping it up in a pocket dimension for a few minutes. One time, he straight up ate an important stack of papers from your desk whole because you weren’t looking when he told you he was about to do a cool trick. Anything to rile you up and steal your attention for a bit.

You find yourself in another situation like that on today of all days, when you’re swamped in assignments and don’t have a moment to spare. You can already feel his unseen eyes watching you as you sit hunched over your large desk-vanity, checking out what you’re up to before he acts. You’ve developed almost a sixth sense for detecting him when he’s invisible at this point, but somehow knowing that he’s secretly here just makes your heart race faster. There’s no feeling quite like trying to predict the first move of a master scarer while he’s in the room, but you quickly decide to put a stop to it today.

“I know you’re there, Beetlejuice,” you say, clear and stern. It would really emphasize how serious and non-playful you’re feeling today, if not for the way the corners of your mouth turn upwards of their own accord. Fight though you might, your body always gives away how much you enjoy the little games you two play. You allow your eyes to slowly wander away from your glowing laptop screen to stare at the large mirror in front of you, hoping to catch a glimpse of his figure lurking behind you and catch him before he can put whatever plan he has into action. Just as you’re scanning the reflection for anything that seems off, your vision is engulfed by a sharp toothy grin manifesting in front of you from within the mirror.

“Boo.”

He can barely get the first syllable out uninterrupted before you’re screaming and jumping back so far that you nearly fall backwards out of your chair, only catching your balance at the last moment. You turn your fiery gaze up to his smug face, still sticking halfway out of your mirror.

“You rat bastard!” You’re panting so hard that you can’t even think of a clever insult for him outside of playground swears, which only seem to egg him on.

He flutters his eyelashes innocently. “Aww, you liked it that much? Well, I hope it was as good for you as it was for me. There’s plenty more where that came from, heh.” He sticks a long, snake-like striped tongue out of his mouth as if to cheekily punctuate his statement.

Despite yourself, you feel your face beginning to flush at his suggestive behavior and turn your back on the mirror to conceal your expression. You don’t want to admit it, but over the past few months, you had developed an issue even bigger than the simple annoyance of a demon constantly pestering you: you found yourself feeling really attracted to Beetlejuice’s stupid face and mannerisms. Even though he was insufferable, he was also undeniably cute and charismatic in a strange way, and he always managed to get you riled up in more ways than one through his teasing. This would only make you all the more bothered by his antics, which in turn would make him want to press your buttons even more. It was a vicious cycle that only ever ended up in you feeling a unique mix of irritated and hot under the collar after he left. Why, why was I cursed with attraction to this rude little gremlin man? He’s gross, and crude, and annoying…and yet.

You wrinkle your nose to dismiss your thoughts, still looking away from Beetlejuice. “So did you come just to make sure I don’t get these assignments turned in on time, or what?”

“Or…what.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see him slide out of the mirror like a long snake, coming back up to full height standing next to your chair. “You know how lonely I get in the stupid Netherworld, so checking up on my faaaavorite little breather is a great way to fill my social meter.” He gets a little too close to your ear, stretching out that “favorite” into almost a growl, and you practically stop breathing trying to minimize the shiver that overtakes your body. Fuck this guy’s stupid sexy voice.

Hoping he didn’t notice your reaction, you turn your body to face him and stand up from your chair defiantly, face to face with his usual shit-eating grin. “What, you just don’t talk to anybody else in this house anymore? It feels like you only ever visit me nowadays, and I really have no idea what I’ve done to be cursed with the privilege of being your favorite human.”

Beetlejuice looks up thoughtfully, as though truly trying to figure out how this relationship came to be, bringing his face closer still to yours. “Well, you are the only person who’s ever voluntarily offered to spend quality time with me.” The answer is so earnest and straightforward, it steals the next witty retort from your lips and you just gawk at him, inches away. His eyes quickly dart down. “Hm, plus, you do have the best tits I’ve seen in a few centuries.” There it is.

You roll your eyes and groan, gently pushing his face away from you with your entire hand, only for him to lick a long stripe down your palm with his tongue. “Ugh, you are so gross!” You relent and move to wipe your hand on your shirt instead.

“Only for you, babes,” he coos with half-lidded eyes.

“That is demonstrably false.”

“Ok fine, how about: especially for you?”

“Well, it’s closer to the truth at least.” You fold your arms and cock your head. “What did you wanna do, then?”

“Oh, you should know better than to give me so much control here, (Y/N). There’s a lotta things I’d like to do with you.” He runs his tongue over fanged teeth teasingly, causing your heart to race once again. Beetlejuice really is a demon without a doubt, because he’s perfectly created my own personal hell. He must be some kind of divine punishment for my wrongdoings. A sexy demon who flirts with me endlessly, and I have to just be normal about it because there’s no way he’s serious. Maybe I burned down orphanages in a past life to deserve this.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’d probably turn me inside out or something fucked up if you got the freedom of choice. I’ll pick, then.” You quickly scan your brain for the quickest, most painless way to get him out of your hair. “How about a game?”

His face lights up with mischief. “Twister?”

“No,” you respond flatly.

“Spin the bottle?”

“No.”

“Hungry Hungry Hippos?”

“N-what? How is that even-“

“Oh, it’s not a euphemism, I just genuinely like that one.”

You sigh in defeat. “Ok, no to all of those. I was thinking more along the lines of The Quiet Game. You sit over there and be quiet, and I sit over here and get my work done, and if you stay quiet the whole time, we can watch a movie or something afterwards.” You say all of this knowing very well that it’s a pipe dream. Even if he were to be totally silent, Beetlejuice would have no problem finding new and inventive ways to torment you. He’s quite talented at that, as both of you are keenly aware.

Upon hearing your proposal, Beetlejuice furrows his brow and wrinkles his nose in a way similar to a petulant child about to throw a tantrum. “The Quiet Game? Are you serious, I-hmph, well, I can tell when I’m not wanted! I don’t need your pity games, I have plenty of exciting and important work things to do myself, like…um. Well, I’d have to check my dossier, but I’m sure there’s plenty of ‘em!” He spins away from you dramatically, drooping his shoulders to appear more pathetic. It works, unfortunately.

Your gaze softens slightly as you take a step towards him. “Beej, c’mon, it’s not that I don’t wanna hang out, I just really need to finish-“

“Yeah, yeah, human work, I know it.” He whirls around to poke at your chest accusingly. “Well, don’t let me be a roadblock to you, Professor Workaholic. I’ll remove myself from your esteemed presence. Just don’t come crawling back to me when you’ve worked yourself to death! I’ll be too busy. Filing shit. Or whatever.” His voice warbles at the end, and you’re not entirely sure if he’s doing it on purpose or not. He’s not the easiest guy to read, though you do think you catch a flash of purple streaking its way through his otherwise green hair. Without giving you time to respond, Beetlejuice pulls out a pair of scissors and snips a long hole in reality, stepping through it with one last pitiful look at you before flipping you off and stitching it up behind him, causing it to blip out of existence.

Just like that, he’s gone, and you quickly realize that you may not have wanted this outcome as much as you’d thought. He’s a bit abrasive, but he’s not wrong. A break would’ve been good for me, and spending time with him is always…a lot, but never boring. We always have fun together. You groan to yourself, frustrated that your brain has decided to come around only after Beetlejuice had already dipped. Damn, I shouldn’t have let him leave.

Seeing no point in taking a break on your own, you sigh, sit back down, and attempt to keep trucking through your work. It’s mind-numbingly dull, and you keep finding your brain wandering off to thoughts of Beetlejuice. His poor little demon schtick really does work, I can’t stand to think about how sad he looked as he was leaving. His big, expressive eyes…how cute and proud of himself he looked after successfully scaring me earlier…his pointy tongue running across those sharp fangs. Fuck… You find yourself blushing at the mere memory of that last one, your conscious mind pleading that you stop finding it as sexy as you do. But try as you may, there’s no changing the fact that Beetlejuice’s playful antics paired with his handsome face have spelled your doom. You’re down bad, worked up, and all alone. Well, looks like this work won’t be getting done because of Beetlejuice even without him here. Fuck it.

Giving in to your body’s demands, you stand up from the desk chair and head over to your bed, taking your pants off on the way and tossing them haphazardly into a corner to start gathering wrinkles. You have bigger things on your mind at the moment; specifically, imagining what Beetlejuice’s long tongue might feel like dragging across your skin. Feeling goosebumps beginning to rise already, you recline onto the bed and slip your hand into your underwear, wasting no time as you begin rubbing slow circles into your clit. You’re almost embarrassed at the fact that you’re already fairly wet just from thinking about him, but then again, it’s not really that surprising. Ok, yeah, this is exactly what I needed. Well, maybe not exactly. If it was perfect, he’d really be here fucking me. The mere idea of that causes your fingers to speed up their ministrations, attempting to replicate the pleasure your mind is imagining in real time. You’ve been here before, touching yourself at the thought of having sex with that demon, but it’s starting to happen more often than you’d care to admit.

Ignoring your inner voice of shame, you focus your whole energy on getting yourself off, your hips twitching involuntarily as you continue. You’re audibly panting at this point, chasing your release at a fast pace. No need for slow pleasantries, this is just about me relieving some tension. Once I’m done, maybe I’ll actually be able to focus on something besides him. Maybe.

After a short while, you can quickly feel your release approaching as you continue to think of him. You’re so close, you can tell that you’re starting to lose yourself. You imagine his big brown eyes looking up at you, expression clouded with lust. “Mm, Beetlejuice…” His pointed fangs scraping your inner thighs… “Beetlejuice…” His lewd face as you suck his cock... “Beetlejuice!”

“Well, well, well, look who decided to come crawling ba-“

Pulled from the brink, you practically jump straight up in the air from where you lay in bed as you hear a familiar voice, too authentic to be fantasy. You snap your head up to see Beetlejuice standing at the foot of your bed, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them and streaks of hot pink just starting to tint his hair.

You quickly regain your senses and pull up the covers. “B-BEETLEJUICE?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

Beetlejuice, however, is not as fast on the recovery. “I…you…” Slack-jawed and speechless, he stutters out a few syllables that somewhat resemble words before shaking his head as if to clear his brain. “H-hang on, you’re the one who summoned me!”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, I…” Your world suddenly comes crashing down on you with the weight of a thousand bricks. “…did. Oh, God, I did…” Your face begins to turn red hot, the obvious implications of this scenario making you want to pass away on the spot. Nope, not even death would help me get out of this one.

You can practically see the gears in Beetlejuice’s head turning, albeit slowly. “You…you summoned me? You called out my name three times. While…” The sudden lightbulb moment is very visible as his hand moves to cover his mouth and dozens more streaks of neon pink suddenly overtake his hair, his face darkening to match. For a moment, you worry that you’ve broken him, only for the demon to finally meet your gaze with a goofy grin that only spreads wider by the moment. “You like me, don’t you?”

“Obviously, dipshit!” You grab a decorative pillow from next to you and toss it at his head, which he easily dodges. You can only think to react with righteous indignation, despite the fact that this situation really is entirely your fault. Probably a defense mechanism to shield yourself from the fact that you’d really love to melt into a puddle on the floor right now.

Beetlejuice, on the other hand, seems far more elated about this than you’d ever expected, practically jumping around for joy. “You do! You really do like me! And it’s gotta be a lot, considering the fact that you like me enough to call out my name when you masturbate, heh. Do you do that often, or did I just do really well at seducing you today?” He strikes a mock sexy pose as if to prove his point.

Despite the added embarrassment of him calling you out so easily, you sit up straighter and raise an eyebrow inquisitively. “You’re…not mad?”

Beetlejuice looks practically bewildered at the very notion. “Me? Mad? Why would I be mad? I’ve been flirting with you so hard that I was offering to drop your panties since the day we met, and you think I’d be mad to see that you wanted it to happen just as bad as I did? Wow, you humans really are funny sometimes.”

“Wait, you were being serious? I thought you acted like that with everyone.”

He opens his mouth to defend himself, closes it after a moment of silence, and then moves to coyly rub his neck instead. “Ok, yeah, when you put it like that, I can see where the confusion comes in here. But yes, I meant everything I said! And I mean everything, babes.” He waggles his eyebrows for ridiculous punctuation.

You blink up at him in shock. No fucking way this is happening. No way is this demon freely admitting that he wants to have sex with me right back, no jokes anywhere to be seen. This must be a dream.

But Beetlejuice is still standing at the end of your bed, real as ever, and beginning to look more than a little bit antsy. “So, um…you gonna invite me to join you, or just make me watch? ‘Cuz to be honest, I, uh, wouldn’t hate either outcome here, so long as I can stay.”

You have a decision to make. You could say his name three times right now to banish him and never speak of this incident again as long as you both shall live and die, or you could finally get to live out the fantasies that have been plaguing you ceaselessly as of late. In the end, it isn’t even really a choice when the best answer is so easily clear.

Your eyes flick up to meet his. “Come here. On your knees.”

Beetlejuice’s face lights up at this command. “Oho, you don’t have to ask me twice!” With that, he practically dives to the floor at your bedside, looking up at you expectantly.

You smile slightly, turning to face Beetlejuice and slide your lower torso out from under the sheets to hang your legs off the side of the bed. Before he can say something lewd, you move to cup his face with your hands. Immediately, he seems taken aback at your gentle action from the stunned, blinking look on his face. Smiling softly, you begin rubbing his beard with your thumbs in a way that makes his eyes roll back into his head a bit. Boy, is he touch-starved. Let’s fix that.

Without another word, you lean in and bring your lips to his, giving him a fairly sweet kiss that he absolutely melts into. You never would’ve expected it of a demon, but Beetlejuice really does have the softest lips you’ve ever kissed, and returns the energy you give him tenfold. It’s pretty cute how much a simple kiss seems to affect him, and you aren’t complaining as you feel his sharp teeth scrape your lips, either. You part your lips a bit to allow his tongue entrance, and he accepts the invitation immediately. His inhumanly long tongue slips in your mouth, wrapping around and rubbing against your tongue almost like a tentacle or other complex appendage. You scrunch up your face at the intrusion, not bad, but strange how it feels as though it’s investigating your mouth of its own accord, prodding and rubbing at you. It’s definitely different from kissing a regular human, but it’s pretty hot, so you’re not complaining by any means. After a few moments, you feel the need to break away and come up for air, panting for breath while Beetlejuice just kneels there in front of you motionless, like he’s just had a particularly amazing out-of-body experience.

After getting a good amount of air into your lungs, you give a small fond smile at his flustered demeanor. “Oh, Beetlejuice, I’m sorry I was so dismissive of you earlier,” you soothe, moving one hand to stroke his neon hair. “You were really just looking out for me, weren’t you?”

He audibly gulps. “Y-yeah…”

“Aw, you really are sweet. I shouldn’t have been so mean to you, baby.”

The more affectionate words you say, the less composed he is as he speaks, made clear by his bright red face and dopey grin. “Heh, s’okay…I kinda like it when you’re mean to me…” Beetlejuice averts his gaze and sinks his face into your hand as he says this. His words are so muffled that they’re almost unintelligible, but you manage to make them out just fine.

“Oh? You do? You really like it when I’m mean to you?” He nods his head quickly, still looking down in embarrassment. Well, this is already going better than I could’ve ever hoped. “Hm, I think I can do that for you. How about you show me how good that tongue really feels, to start off?” You spread your legs suggestively, his head at the perfect level.

Beetlejuice bites his lip in anticipation, his shyness melting away as he’s reminded of getting you off. “Oh yeah, I’ll show you, alright. You have no idea what you’re in for, babes. I’m well-known for my skills in this field, you’ll have the time of y-mmph!” His blathering is interrupted by you grabbing the black tie that hangs around his neck and tugging him closer to you with a swift motion, drawing a whimper from the demon.

“Can’t talk and eat pussy at the same time.”

“Mm, y-you underestimate my abilities…” Beetlejuice always has to have the last word, but he at least doesn’t waste any more time. Tentatively, he slides both of his clawed hands up from your knees to your inner thighs, spreading your legs a bit more to allow more room for his head to fit between them. Your underwear is still on, albeit completely soaked through, which he seems to note with a quiet smug look up at you. In one swift move, he hooks two clawed fingers from each hand around the narrowest strip of the fabric on the sides of your thighs and pulls the garment down slowly, never once breaking eye contact. You’re filled with a nerve-wracking sensation of nakedness as he does this, not just physically, but on a deeper level too. You never realized how deeply revealing it is to have someone watching your expression so shamelessly, gauging your exact reaction as he undresses you. It makes you feel transparent and fully see-through, like a ghost.

Finally, Beetlejuice slips your underwear off of your body fully, twirling it around one of his fingers in pride before pulling back and slingshotting it away with reckless abandon. Returning his head to rest right between your thighs, where there is nothing blocking him from his goal now. You half-expect a stupid remark now that he’s finally right where he’s been aching to be, but he takes you by surprise by just staring at your body in silent reverence for a moment. It’s almost eerie to hear such a long silence from Beetlejuice, who’s made it his full-time career to annoy you up to this point, but it’s kind of flattering at the same time. After a few beats, he seems to shake himself out of his own stupor and looks up at you with a more familiar lopsided smirk.

Before either of you can say anything, he seems to remember that he was given a job to do and begins to unfurl that tongue that you’ve been daydreaming so much about. At full length, it’s about a foot long, forked and striped, always looking like it’s moving of its own accord like a dark slimy tentacle. You’ve seen him loll it out before, so you know good and well what it looks like, but that was always when Beetlejuice was trying to entertain you by acting silly or creepy. In a situation like this, however, it was almost enough to make you feel faint. Consequences be damned, this is the best decision I’ve ever made.

Ever a creature of impatience, Beetlejuice leans down to lick a long, slow stripe starting at the bottom of your pussy and working his way to the top, right up the middle. As soon as he makes contact, you feel as though an electric shock has shot through your lower abdomen. The first thing that your mind registers is how surprisingly cold his tongue is. Sometimes you forget that he’s not a living human and doesn’t have the natural warmth that you’ve come to expect from people. Instead, his body has a natural chilliness to it, and you’ve wondered before if that’s a demon trait or just a Beetlejuice-specific quirk. Either way, the feeling of his long, cold tongue on your pussy is delightfully shocking enough to excite you even more than you could’ve ever expected. He gives another long lick and your hips buck in time without any input from your conscious mind, and you cover your mouth to stifle a moan. Is it just because I was already close, or is Beetlejuice’s tongue actually just the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life?

You don’t get much time to consider this, however, as Beetlejuice notices your full-body reaction, chuckles darkly, and quickly dives back in for more. This time, he’s in it to prove himself, pushing more of his long tongue out to efficiently swirl all around your pussy, going at a speed that would be impossible for a normal human with a normal-length tongue. It’s practically chaotic, but it feels so all-consumingly good that you throw your head back, overwhelmed by the sensation. You reach to grab at his hair, which only seems to spurn him on to move faster, his tongue practically spasming as it writhes against you. It brushes over your inner thighs, your entrance, your clit, practically all of the above at once because of its length, and it’s starting to bring you back to your precipice at an alarming rate.

“F-fuck, Beej…don’t stop, whatever you do, please...” You pull at his hair with more force, putting some power behind your command and drawing a needy whine from the demon. To his credit, he doesn’t stop, and seems to be doing his best to speed up his already-fast work.

If his expression is anything to go by, Beetlejuice seems to take a deep pride in how greatly he’s affecting you in such little time, and he whimpers out little words in between his ministrations. “You-“ He laps at your clit with his pointed tip. “Taste-“ He teases your entrance with the broad side of his tongue. “Delicious…” He draws most of his tongue back into his mouth, only to learn forward to suck on your clit with his whole mouth, his beard tickling your inner thighs as he does.

You’re beyond the point of words, but your thighs tighten around his head to wordlessly show him how close you are. You close your eyes to find a moment’s reprieve from the overstimulation, but when you reopen them, you inadvertently lock eyes with Beetlejuice as he continues to suckle at your clit. You’re blown away by the intense way he looks up at you; his eyelashes are obscuring his eyes in a way that makes him look absolutely beautiful, and weirdly enough, almost sweet and innocent at this angle. This is the moment when you distantly realize you’ve fully lost your mind, but you don’t have long to come to terms with your newfound insanity as your orgasm builds at an exponential rate. Suppressing a lewd sound, you grab fistfuls of his hair, grappling for any sort of leverage as your hips begin to buck against his face and your orgasm is suddenly crashing down on you with the force of a tidal wave. You lean down and wrap your arms around him for fear that you may topple over, still keeping the same tight grip on his hair, which causes his head to pull back forcefully and his face to turn upwards. Your nails dig into his scalp as you ride out the pleasure, eventually releasing his hair when you collapse against his form, your arms draping over his back and chest pressed to his head, feeling boneless and overwhelmingly good. You lean against him for a good few moments, trying to catch your breath and sit back up at the same time.

Beetlejuice stirs slightly beneath you. “No need to rush. I’m doing great right where I am right now. Really, take your time.” You raise an eyebrow, only to quickly realize that your chest is, in fact, pressed directly up against his face. You snort, but remain still for the moment. The only movements in your body are the intense thumps of your heart and the gentle stroking of your hands in Beetlejuice’s hair. After what feels like minutes, you finally pull away from him and prop yourself upright to survey the situation. Specifically, you take in eyefuls of the demon trembling below you, who is looking up at you with a hazy Cheshire grin, licking his lips and very obviously straining against his pants.

You grin salaciously down at where Beetlejuice kneels, reveling in how much you’ve already affected him. “Aw, I bet you’ve been so horny this whole time and still ate me out first without a word. What a good boy.”

His eyes widen. “Fuck, babes…” Beetlejuice openly palms at his clothed dick, making you start to feel warmth between your legs yet again. “S-say that again.”

“That’s not how you ask for something.”

His eyes dart downward as he lets out a shaky sound beneath you, then slowly tilts his head up to meet your gaze. “Please.” The way he whines out the plea is enough to get you a little bit drunk on power. Jesus Christ, this man is gonna be the death of me.

“That���s my good boy.” You hold back a shiver at his immediate and audible reaction. “You really must have wanted this for awhile, the way you’re doing everything I tell you to do so well.”

Beetlejuice moans softly, making no effort to stifle it. “W-well, you did summon me, doll. It’s my job now to make sure you’re totally happy with my work. So, whaddaya say…satisfied with my professional work ethic yet?” He sticks the tip of his tongue out teasingly, eyes lidded.

You giggle at his antics, just as present during sex as they are always. If anything, you’re impressed with his restraint since, so far, he hasn’t pulled any wild reality-bending nonsense to fuck with you while he’s…well, fucking you. “Oh, absolutely. I’d give you a five star review on LinkedIn, no doubt about it.”

He snickers, smiling so wide that his fangs are easily visible. “Hell yeah.”

Looking at him fondly, you move your right hand to untangle itself from his hair and move to scratch at his beard, which Beetlejuice leans into appreciatively. “But y’know, I’m not selfish. You seem a little worked up there, huh? I’d never leave my favorite demon to deal with that all by himself, especially after how good you were to me.” Your hand moves down from his beard, coming to rest on his chest. “How’s about it then, bug boy? You want my hands on your cock?”

Beetlejuice’s big brown eyes are as wide as saucers, and his hair is so vibrantly hot pink that you’re sure it would be blinding in better lighting. “Yes. Please. Oh God, (Y/N), I need you so bad. If you don’t touch me, I’m gonna die and go to whatever’s after the Netherworld, I’m serious.”

“Well, I definitely don’t want that!” You sigh fondly at his dramatics, then pat the space on the bed next to you. “Come on up, I want you right here with me. And lose some of those clothes on the trip up, you’re making me feel underdressed for the occasion.”

“Y-yeah, I can do that.” He wasn’t lying, you really don’t have to ask him twice. He immediately begins shrugging off his iconic striped jacket and slips his suspenders from his shoulders, leaving only his partially-unbuttoned undershirt and tie on below it. He crawls up onto the bed and sits back next to you, mirroring your posture with an air that’s much more shy. Once he’s up, he unbuttons his striped pants and pulls them down enough for his growing erection to be free of their confines, though still trapped in his underwear (also striped, points for staying true to theme). You’d have expected Beetlejuice to be overly confident and full of himself in a situation like this, but now that you’re both in it, this reality-bending, all-powerful demon looks…small. Nervous. Averting your gaze. You feel a need to reassure him overtake you.

“Hey, Beetlejuice? You alright? I know I talk big, but…we don’t have to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.” You rest a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Beetlejuice snaps his head up towards you with a wary expression. “No, it’s not that I…I mean, it’s just that…even though I say it, I’ve never…really…” He pauses his jumbled words to collect his thoughts. “It’s different…to have attention on yourself…I guess.” He sighs in frustration and looks away. “Ugh, this is ridiculous. I do want this, I swear I do. I’m just being…stupid.”

“Hey, this isn’t stupid. I’m serious, don’t say that.” You never would’ve expected this level of self-doubt and anxiety from the demon that literally held everybody else in this house captive during a temper tantrum once, but it just goes to show you can’t judge a book by its war crimes. “What can I do to make it better?”

Beetlejuice looks back to you with a vulnerable expression that you wouldn’t have thought him capable of. “Just…keep doing what you normally do, I guess. Like I said, the problem here is me.” He’s quiet for a contemplative moment. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud, so if you ever tell anybody, I’ll feed you alive to a sandworm. For real.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You cross your heart for good measure, making his eyes soften their wary gaze.

“Ok, the thing is, most people have never really…liked me. I know, I couldn’t believe it either, heh. But it’s true, everyone that’s ever summoned me has just used me up for my power and hated me the whole time while doing it. Even if I tried to roll over and do whatever it took to appeal to them, it never worked, so I figured, might as well just do whatever I want if they’ll hate me either way. So that’s what I’ve done, and it made me kinda…not like me, either. I mean, my own mother thought I was a disappointment, so that’s pretty pathetic, right? The closest I got to a friendship was when Lydia summoned me, but I went and messed that up, too. But…” He pushes his forehead against your shoulder so he won’t have to look you in the eye, purple quickly overtaking his hair. “You seemed to like being around me, right? At least a little bit? And I guess I just didn’t want you to see all of me and decide you…didn’t like it, like everyone else. It’s one thing if I do something for you, but I guess it’s…weirdly scarier to let you do things for me. If you do, it’s like I’m not being…useful, or something. See, you can see how ridiculous this sounds, so that’s why it’s just a me being dumb problem.”

You stay quiet for a moment, taking in Beetlejuice’s first words from vulnerable standpoint with you. You don’t want to say the wrong thing and make him regret ever opening up, so you ponder all of the occasions that you’ve spent time with him and bring your hands up to pet his head reassuringly. He can get on my nerves, but for all of his button pushing, I always look forward to his company. He’s silly, and fun, and even unexpectedly sweet at times. “Well…I can agree that it’s a you being wrong problem, at least. Because I do love being around you, Beetlejuice. And I’m sorry that people have made you feel less-than in the past, but I think they’re idiots for missing out on the fun of getting to know you. You don’t need to be “useful” to keep me from leaving, I want to do nice things for you too, no conditions attached. I like you. I want you. You’re perfect as you are.” You press a tender kiss to his forehead.

If Beetlejuice disagrees, he doesn’t say. Instead, he pushes his face into the crook of your neck, trembling enough that you can feel it against your body. “I love you.”

You try to hide how taken aback you are by his words, electing to wrap your arms around him to conceal it. “I love you too.” And the two of you stay just like that for an impossible to determine amount of time, just holding each other gently. You feel wetness against your neck but say nothing and silently hope that you’re doing this right. He loves me. He really said it himself.

After some time, Beetlejuice pulls back and you can finally look at that cute face you’re so fond of again. His expression is sheepish and his hair painted in a gradient of light pink to magenta, tinges of purple confined to the tips of his hair at this point. “Sorry, I ruined the mood there. Not a lotta guys can have a breakdown with their pants down, but as you can see, I am a man of many talents.” His voice is soft, but sounding steadier and more comfortable than it did a few moments before.

You chuckle softly. “Hey, you didn’t ruin anything. I still had no plans of using you for myself only to leave you high and dry.”

“Heh, you mean it?”

“Of course, I mean, as long as you’re up for it.”

“Oh hell yeah, I can bare my soul and still be horny. I can multitask.” A familiar grin lights up his face at the sound of your laughter, his usual personality returning to him bit by bit.

“Good, I still had a lot of things I wanted to do with you. But seriously, if you change your mind at any point, please just tell me. I want you to be comfortable and enjoy yourself, so if you’re not ready, that’s ok.” Part of you realizes that he’s an all-powerful demon who could easily put a stop to anything at a moment’s notice if he felt like it, but another part told you to be extra kind and considerate with him. You want him to know that although he could forcibly end anything he disliked with his powers, he didn’t have to feel the need to use force. You would always respect the power of his words just as much.

He raises his eyebrows. “Heh, look at you, caring about me ‘n’ shit. That works for me, but what, are you plannin’ on tying me up and blindfolding me? Some real kinky shibari shit?”

You pretend to think about it, tapping your chin. “Hm, maybe not this time.” You begin kissing along Beetlejuice’s jawline, stubble scratching at your face as you do. You take the moment to scooch the two of you away from the edge and closer to the center of the bed, with him sitting up against your pillows. Once he’s comfortable, you crawl over to straddle his lap, causing him to groan out a beautiful sound below you. You finally remove your top, ridding yourself of your last piece of clothing before getting to work on him.

“Nice,” Beetlejuice half-whispers, having been watching you slowly peel your shirt off as though he were studying for a test.

“Hey, sounds like I might’ve secured myself that five star review too.”

“Oh fuck yeah, by tits alone. Don’t get me started on everything else, they haven’t even invented a grading scale that goes that high yet.”

You giggle, leaning down to softly kiss his lips and scratch at his beard. Beetlejuice immediately melts to your touch and tilts his head up, giving you easy access to begin trailing downward slowly with your kisses. You move to place kisses along his neck, drinking in the soft sounds that are forming in his throat and causing your lips to vibrate ever so slightly from the rumbles beneath them. Taking your sweet time, you kiss down to just above his collarbone and begin loosening his tie to get at him better. Once it’s wide enough, you slip it overtop his head and let it fall onto the sheets, then you unbutton the last few buttons of his undershirt so that that can slide off of his shoulders as well. Mimicking him from earlier, you chuck the shirt away haphazardly with a satisfied grin.

“Hey, watch the suit, doll,” he quips, with absolutely no bite behind the words. If anything, he just seems a bit breathless. I didn’t think he needed to breathe. Is he just doing that to egg me on?

“I’d rather watch what’s under it, thanks.” You scrunch up your nose playfully and return to your barrage of kisses, happy to now have his bare torso to work with.

“Wow. I’d normally roll my eyes at that, but I’m actually kinda flattered that you’re using lines that are so dumb, they sound like they came from me.”

“Yeah, your Beetlejuice-isms are contagious.” Without his suit, you can better admire that his stomach and arms are a good mix of soft and round and chubby but also pretty strong, giving him a really cute body that you’re getting a bit sick of not having your hands on. Immediately moving to rectify the situation, you pepper kisses and lightly suckle along Beetlejuice’s collarbone. You relish in the heavy rise and fall of his chest under you before moving downward to flick your tongue across his nipple. You’re immediately rewarded with a high-pitched gasp as he arches his back slightly, sending you the cutest pleading look right after. You’re unsure if he’s aware of how strong that kind of positive reinforcement is, but he’ll probably figure it out quickly since you’re already dragging your tongue across his nipple again, bringing one hand up to brace yourself against his bicep and trailing the other down his stomach with one slow, featherlight touch.

Beetlejuice snorts out a giggle between his more lewd sounds and covers his stomach protectively. “H-hey, careful now, I’m ticklish…and add that to the list of things you are not allowed to share with anyone, ever, under any circumstances.”

You chuckle. “I promise.” He looks utterly unconvinced but just pouts his lip wordlessly in embarrassment. I’m really not sure if he knows how cute he is and uses it to his advantage or if this just comes naturally to him. Either option is pretty scary. You move your hand back farther down still to finally graze the top of his clothed dick, fingertips dancing lightly against his strained underwear as you move to fully suck on his other nipple.

“Ughh, you’re such a tease,” he chokes out, moving to cover his face with one hand.

You frown. “Hey, don’t hide from me. It’s not fair if you get to look me in the eye while eating my pussy if I can’t do the same for you when I’m being a cocktease.” Begrudgingly, he grumbles something unintelligible and moves his arm out of his face, looking down at you with faux irritation, causing your smile to only widen. “Wow, your face is almost brighter than your hair right now. Wonder what made that happen.” As you speak, you drag your fingers down his shaft with even more pressure, causing him to make a choked sound. Your hips move to grind down on the thigh that you’re currently sitting astride before you can even think twice about it, the quick friction making you bite your lip to hold in a gasp.

“B-babes, I’m begging ya.” Beetlejuice looks unspeakably horny below you, but you can’t quite resist the thrill of making him work for it.

“Huh, that’s weird, cuz I didn’t hear actually any begging at all, Beetlejuice. But that is a good idea, maybe you should try it.”

“Ohhh, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-”

You bark out a laugh at his immediate and visibly desperate response. If he had any pride before, it seems it had vanished the moment that you first touched him. Taking pity, you finally remove his bottoms completely, feeling quiet satisfaction when his cock is freed and you get to see just how hard he really is. It stands fully erect and leaking precum, matching the color of his flushed face perfectly.

“Y’know, when you actually put in the effort, you’re pretty good at playing nice,” you coo, dragging a single finger up his length from bottom to top.

Beetlejuice represses a shiver and instead lets out a low growl. “Careful, I can still flip you over and rail you into the bed ‘til you can’t speak if I feel like it.”

“Not that a little power struggle with you doesn’t sound awesome, but I have a feeling you won’t do that tonight. Like you said, you want me to be mean to you.” You punctuate your sentence by grabbing his twitching dick and lightly squeezing, enough to make him squirm. “You want to see what I’ll do to you if I have control.” As if challenging him to say otherwise, you begin slowly pumping his cock, looking him directly in the eye as you run your hand up and down his shaft.

Beetlejuice breaks eye contact first, unable to hold your intense gaze as he’s slowly pleasured. “M-maybe, but I still have a good memory. Next time I’m in a more dominating kind of mood, you’ll b-be sorry y-mmph!” Whatever he was about to say is quickly silenced by you running your thumb over the slit of his cock and then immediately picking up the pace of your strokes, causing Beetlejuice to descend into a cacophony of moans that he isn’t even attempting to keep at a reasonable volume level.

You pause your ministrations. “Shh, Beej, other people live here! You want Charles to know you’re getting your shit rocked all the way from his home office? Or the Maitlands in the attic?”

He tilts his head to lean further back into your soft pillows, looking as though he’s truly considering his position on the idea. “Mm, well, my brain is telling me you want to hear a no, but my humiliation kink is just giving me a resounding yes.” This little shit.

You sigh and shake your head, only to catch something you’d forgotten on the bed not long ago out of the corner of your eye. Immediately, you’re struck with a wondrous idea. You grab Beetlejuice’s black tie from where it had been strewn across the bed and ball it up in your hand. Beetlejuice watches you carefully with a confused expression, tilting his head at your handiwork. Once finished, your eyes glisten with a mischief usually more common to his face.

“Open.” With a single word, you cause Beetlejuice’s entire expression to shift into one of shock, but certainly not in a bad way. Surprisingly, he doesn’t say a word, only shoots you what you can only describe as a proud, horny grin and opens his mouth wide, saliva practically dripping from his lips and fangs. This turns you on way more than expected, and you find yourself mentally debating with yourself on whether it’s sexy in a gross way or gross in a sexy way, before ultimately coming back to your senses and stuffing the tie into his mouth as a gag before you could think on this any further.

Beetlejuice adjusts the tie with his tongue to properly fit. He tries to speak, but the only thing that ends up coming out is something like, “Mm fhh dmmm.”

You giggle at his attempt. “Well, if you need to tell me anything important, I think you’ll need to take that out first.” He narrows his eyes in a look that very clearly communicates yeah, no shit. But he doesn’t make any attempt to remove it, so it must not have been very important. Satisfied with your new setup, you return your hand to his cock, pumping as slowly as you had been in the beginning to get him started.

Beetlejuice, however, is not having it. He nearly knocks you off of where you’re straddling him by violently bucking his hips up into your hand. You carefully reposition your naked body as he finds a way to smirk at you through his gag, because of course he can do that. If he can’t make noise, he can easily find another way to make his impatience crystal clear to you.

“I’m sure you think you’re funny, but the more time you spend playing bull-rider, the less likely I am to let you cum anytime soon.” Your words immediately cause his hips to twitch upwards, but he seems to keep himself under better control this time. Of course, knowing Beetlejuice, he’ll probably do it again within the minute if he thinks it’ll push your buttons and/or result in you possibly edging him. You decide to cut him off at the pass by grabbing his dick and vigorously jacking him off without any warning. His eyes practically bug out of his head in surprise before high-pitched moans and squeals start to pour out of him, significantly quieted by the gag in his mouth but still plenty audible enough for you to enjoy. And enjoy you do, keeping up your brutal pace as he squirms deliciously under your touch. Not content to be the only one taken by surprise, he grabs at your chest and begins squeezing with reckless abandon, rolling your nipples under his clawed fingers as he lets out a stifled cry. Between focusing on giving the handjob of your life, drinking in Beej’s reactions, and having your nipples roughly played with, you don’t even realize that you’re rocking your naked pussy against his thigh until you can feel your own arousal rising again.

Though you’re certain you could reach another orgasm if you just keep at it, you decide to slow down so your brain doesn’t fizzle out and forget to focus on making your demon happy. Instead, you lift your body up to bring your face right up to his, slowing your hand motions. Before anything else can happen, you spare yourself a moment to really look at Beetlejuice’s face from slightly below, and what you see in his eyes makes you almost cum untouched. He’s desperately close, almost lost in the sensations you’ve wrapped him in, but still anchored tight to you by gaze alone. If he wasn’t gagged, he would almost certainly be begging again, if he could get any coherent words in between his moans. As it stands, he looks like he’d give you anything in the world right now as long as you keep looking at him and keep touching him. And you’re happy to oblige.

“Gonna cum, Beej? You look preeeetty close.”

He cries out a muffled sound at your words, his hips practically shaking as he wordlessly begs for more, his pleading eyes inches away from your own, scanning your expression for any sign of acquiescence. Fun as it may be to play with him, I shouldn’t toy with him too much for right now. Wouldn’t really be fair after how well he’s treated me.

“Alright.” With a single word, you cease the cruel slow strokes that you’d been teasing him with and swiftly return to the frenzied, messy pumping of his cock that made him arch his back and practically scream beneath his gag. You’re relentless this time, keeping up the sloppy pace while you bring your free hand up to cup his cheek. You would’ve tilted his head to make him look at you, but he’s already been locked onto you since the beginning and you don’t think you’d be able to make him look away now if you tried. You feel dizzy and it’s intoxicating. “Cum for me, Beetlejuice.”

With a moan that almost renders his gag useless and the distant unexplained sound of fabric ripping, Beetlejuice cums hard, coating your hand and belly as you’re leaned over him in a fluid that resembles human semen way more than you actually expected. After fully finishing, he collapses back for a moment, removing the gag from his mouth himself and catching his metaphorical breath. You allow your own worked-up body to lay more comfortably against his chest while he comes down from everything.

“Ok, don’t be mad, I think I may have ripped up your mattress a little bit.” He opens one eye to peek out at you, as though actually expecting you to be angry with him. Sure enough, you look at where his hands were gripping the sheets on either side of him and see distinct, deep claw marks raking down the surface of the bed.

You hum noncommittally to yourself. “Well, I can’t really be mad about something that boosts my ego like that.” Instead you look down at the mess that’s been made of you and consider what to do about it.

Beetlejuice’s eyes follow yours down. “It does glow in the dark, if you were wondering.” His lips twitch upwards, looking quite proud of his fun fact.

“No fuckin’ way.”

“Oh?” Beetlejuice offers a smug smile, then dims the dull lights of your room with his powers until they’ve fully shut off. Sure enough, your entire stomach, hand, and part of your bed is glowing a fluorescent green, his signature shade. He flashes a proud smile at the sight of it. “Told ya so!”

“Ok, color me impressed.” You swipe some of the liquid from your stomach with a finger, studying it inquisitively. “Hey BJ, are you radioactive? If I taste this, will I die?”

Beetlejuice’s face flushes so badly, you can even make it out in this poor lighting. “Uh, no, but I might…”

“Oh, awesome.” You stick the finger of glowing cum in your mouth, relishing the taste of your favorite demon. It’s not too different from a human’s, but it does have a faint taste of sweetness, almost like green apple candy or something. It was certainly fitting for him. “Hey, bring those lights back up, I’m dying to see your mood ring hair unlock new shrimp colors when you see me licking up your cum.”

Wordlessly, Beetlejuice brings back enough light to see each other well in. You’re a bit disappointed to not see any new colors yet undiscovered by man in his hair, but in reality, you may have maxed out the hot pink’s vibrancy today. What you are surprised to see, however, is Beetlejuice’s dick already hardening again as you take another lick of his cum from your palm.

You blink in surprise. “Woah, how are you already getting horny again that fast? Do you have some kind of penis-based superpower that you’ve somehow never mentioned despite you being yourself?”

Beetlejuice lowly chuckles to himself, making shivers run down your back at the tone. “Eh, sort of? See, demons aren’t like humans in that we can all go multiple rounds, regardless of equipment, no problemo. We very often have enormously high libidos that a delicate little breather like you could never hope to keep up with, but hey, you’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.” He raises and lowers his eyebrows like a suggestive idiot.

You absentmindedly play with the tufts of hair behind his ears. “Well, you got me there. I’m down for another round if you are. I’ve wanted to ride you for months now, so the spirit is certainly willing.”

“Fuck yeah I am! I’m beyond willing! As long you know that I’ve got the stamina of a cheetah and can totally outlast you on this.”

“I’m pretty sure cheetahs are known for their great speed but awful stamina.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t give a shit.”

You give an involuntary snort-laugh at his quick retort, causing the demon to beam at you with unmistakable adoration, gently pushing some loose hair out of your face. It’s almost off-putting to see such an unashamedly wholesome expression plastered across the face of a supernatural being that has spent his existence being feared by so many, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t also bring you joy unlike any other to be lucky enough to see him like this. So many people didn’t deserve to, and you aren’t exactly sure what you did to become worthy of the privilege, but you won’t question it.

“Here, allow me to level the playing field,” Beetlejuice says, snapping his fingers. You whip your head around the room, but nothing appears to have changed.

“Uh, what exactly did you do?”

“Oh, nothing. I just soundproofed the room for a little bit. I wanna hear you scream, babes.” His eyes narrow at you as his arms engulf you in a light embrace, pulling you closer. His claws come up to rest on your shoulders, the pinpricks pressing against your skin and threatening to break it.

You raise a teasing eyebrow. “You…couldn’t have done that from the beginning?”

“I like the thrill of possibly getting caught, sue me! But hey, if this is what it takes to get you loud, well, I’ll make the sacrifices that I gotta.”

“You really wanna hear me that bad, huh?” Beetlejuice shakes his head so hard it looks as though it should be making a cartoonish sound effect. “Well, I’d honestly love to hear you without that gag too, so I guess we’re in the same boat.” You lift yourself back up to better straddle his naked body again, hovering just above his erect cock and flashing him a sly smile. “Now fuck me, demon boy.”

Beetlejuice’s eyes widen. “Oho, with pleasure.” More than happy to comply, he grabs onto your hips with his clawed hands and gently but firmly maneuvers you down to line up with the head of his dick.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, causing the demon to whine softly below you. After a moment, you’ve fully lowered yourself down and sheathed him inside of you, a full but not at all uncomfortable fit. You give it a moment of stillness to adjust before rocking your hips a bit, feeling his dick twitch inside of your cunt as you do. He immediately reacts by moaning loudly and snapping his hips up against you like a man possessed.

“Fuck, Beej…” You groan at almost a growl pitch, the feeling of him moving inside you almost too much at once.

“Mm…could do better…that sound was only maybe a three outta ten. I’ll have to-mmph-up my game.” God, it is just like this guy to make pleasuring me into a game. I guess I’m not complaining, though. As if on cue with your thoughts, Beetlejuice grabs your back just below the shoulder blades to quickly pull you in close to his chest, his claws applying enough force to definitely leave some red marks in their wake but not enough to hurt badly. The sudden dig of his claws only causes you to start rocking your hips at a faster pace, making it plainly obvious how much you enjoy him handling you so roughly.

“Y-you can try, but I doubt you’ll be able to hear me over yourself soon.”

Beetlejuice responds with silence, which you’ve learned usually means he’s planning to do something that he doesn’t want you to know about. From where you’re pressed against his upper chest, you can’t quite see his face either unless you craned your neck to look up towards him. You don’t slow down your speed, but do feel a sense of horny dread wash over you at his continued silence. Suddenly and without warning, you feel sharp fangs sink into the vulnerable back of your neck where your shoulder connects. It’s so unexpected and hurts so good that you erupt into a chorus of shuddering gasps, unable to even form sentences as Beetlejuice keeps biting and sucking at your neck. His claws keep your squirming body in place as he continues his barrage, and you feel him smiling wider and wider into your skin the more noisy that you get. It’s so good, so overwhelmingly good, having him inside of you while also using those fangs that you love so much on you at the same time. You’re struck with the realization that you can’t let him play you like a fiddle so well without fighting back. Before you can think twice, you turn your face into the crook of his neck right above his collarbone and bite down on the skin even harder than he’s biting at you. You may not have fangs, but you are determined nonetheless.

“Jesus FUCK, (Y/N)!” Beetlejuice is forced to pause his bites to yelp a few similar exclamations. “Ohoho, you’re lucky I’m a demon freak who doesn’t mind being ripped a new collarbone, cuz wow.”

An apology half-forms in your mouth before you realize that that was probably his weird way of complimenting you rather than sarcasm. “Well, m-maybe now, after this, you’ll get to go through what I went through every time you flashed your stupid teeth in public.”

Beetlejuice pulls his head back so his face is in your view again, and you slow your rocking against him just a bit out of curiosity. He’s sporting a growing smile that looks practically delighted.

“Hold up, were you really that into my fangs from all the way back when? You had it that bad?”

You flush at his wording of a situation that you, personally, do not find as humorous as he seems to. “Hey, it’s not like it was just that. It was…all of you, I guess. Every little thing you did turned me on basically all the time, and, as you can imagine, it was a living nightmare.” You realize that that doesn’t exactly make you sound less like a pervert, but it also doesn’t help that his cock is still twitching inside of you and you can’t exactly think straight at the moment.

“Wow, so every time I was around you, you were just being a grade A horndog!” Beetlejuice cackles at his own joke. He is the only one laughing. “Aww, looks like we’re more alike than we thought! Cuz, I mean, you were doing the exact same thing to me all the time, so. Fair’s fair.”

You groan. “Oh my God, you were literally going through the exact same thing? We could’ve fucked ages ago and put ourselves out of that misery!”

He snorts. “Hey, it’s fine. Y’know what? I’m glad it turned out just how it did. Honest.” Your starry-eyed demon lifts a claw to gently cup your jawline.

You put your own hand on top of his. “Yeah, same here.”

Beetlejuice grins, then his face immediately shifts. “All right, I’ve done a lot of talking and now I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you have visions of the Netherworld. Boobs in my mouth, please.”

“HA!” You practically double over at his sudden mood shift, wiping a tear from your eye. “I’ll hold you to that, big guy.”

Before you can even start rocking, Beetlejuice takes things into his own hands and starts thrusting up into you at a fairly speedy pace. He’s holding your hips to keep you balanced, as well as maneuvering them to drive himself into you better. The angle that he’s hitting you at is already starting to make you see stars, and you roll your hips to meet him in time. Apparently, he was not kidding about the boobs in his mouth request, as he leans his head forward to latch onto your left nipple, sucking and ever-so-slightly grazing it with his sharp teeth. To make matters worse, he grabs the other with his claw and begins rolling his thumb over it, all while keeping his eyes locked onto yours, just as he did the last time his mouth was on you. It’s all so good, you can already feel your orgasm building again.

“Oh, don’t stop, Beej, that’s so good…” You’re nearly at the precipice again, focusing your energy on getting up and over. The image in front of you is certainly helping get you there, as Beetlejuice is truly giving it all he has at the moment. His expression shows that he’s right on the edge as well, as you focus on his beautiful brown eyes looking up at you with unmistakable love and lust. “Mm, Beetlejuice…” His long tongue wrapping itself around your nipple… “Beetlejuice…” His cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you... “B-!”

Suddenly, you find two hands clamped over your mouth with surprising force. “Don’t.” The word comes out as a snarl next to your ear, taking you by surprise and sending a shiver down your whole frame. Before you can recover, an erratic snap of his hips sends you hurtling over the edge, an orgasm so intense that it makes your ears ring and your other senses dull for the duration. You moan loudly against his hand, which hasn’t yet moved and doesn’t do much to muffle your sounds of pleasure. Moments later, Beetlejuice moves to grab onto your hips and presses deep into you, holding you in place above him and filling you up with more of his otherworldly cum, all the while letting out gasping moans of his own like a man drowning. After filling you to his satisfaction, his arms fall limply to his side and you slump against him, both dazed and overstimulated. You catch your breath while Beetlejuice seems to be going through a factory reset, his eyes wide open and blinking harshly.

After gathering himself, he finally speaks. “Babes, I love you, but you really gotta get this name thing down if you don’t want me to suddenly poof away when I’m balls-deep inside of ya.”

You look at him sheepishly. “Heh, yeah, sorry. Good save though!” You finally lift yourself off of his dick, rolling your body haphazardly off of him to lay down at his side more comfortably.

He snorts. “Yeah, I bet you enjoyed me putting a stop to that. I’m thinking next time, I act like that from the start and we’ll see whose better at bossing who around.”

You begin lightly tracing patterns on his chest, resting your head on his bicep. “Oh yeah? And what if I wasn’t finished bossing you around yet?”

“Well, then you can peg me about it the next time!”

You giggle at his response while simultaneously filing it away for another day. Smiling into his bare skin, you feel your heartbeat begin to stabilize after quite a long period of elevation. Beetlejuice is still chilly to the touch, but in a way that unexpectedly comforts you, like a soft pillow after being flipped over in the middle of the night.

“Can we flip?” The demon’s sudden request paired with his big eyes meeting yours takes you out of your musings.

“You want to lay on me? Sure, c’mere.” You move to your back, patting your chest for him to lay on. He doesn’t hesitate, snuggling his head into a cozy position on your chest, his left cheek pressing up against your collarbone and his tussled pastel pink hair barely reaching up to tickle your neck. He’s in the perfect spot for you to drape your arms across his frame protectively, your hands coming up to gently rest on his shoulder and the side of his face. Your hands are tired and still, but even in a passive state, you find them needing to touch Beetlejuice without asking for your input. Even if it’s just the comforting brush of your fingers against his jawline, you can’t resist the ache to be close to him.

Beetlejuice leans into your touch. “Mm…you feel so nice…” He tilts his head so that his ear is pressed against your chest and practically melts against you. “Heh, I’ll never get used to that sound. Never thought I’d get to hear it so close, but it’s even better like this.” Your heartbeat instinctively quickens just a bit at his comment, and you feel Beetlejuice’s lips curl up in a smile. “Cute how I can change the tempo at will like that. Like the best radio in the world, babes.”

You blow air from your nose and kiss his head from above, mostly just getting his hair in the kiss from the angle you’re at. “I like your chilliness, you like my heartbeat…I’m starting to think this may work out for us after all!”

The demon snorts, repositioning his head to your shoulder so he can look you in the eye better. “Y’know, I really thought my awesome cock and subsequent use of it would be the thing that made you think that, but whatever seals the deal for ya, doll!”

“That too.” You sigh and close your eyes. “So, what are we gonna tell the others?”

“Uh, you got so horny after I annoyed you one day that you fucked me about it?”

“Beetlejuice, we are not telling people that.”

“Sorry, that you fucked me and you fucked me good. Better?” Your raised eyebrow is enough of an answer on its own. “Hm, and I thought you were a fan of honesty. Well, suit yourself. We can think of something more PG later, it’s not like we have to tell anyone tonight.”

“Well, I guess you are right on that front. I’ll think of a nice and polite way to bring it up at the family dinner table later.”

“Yeah, plus it’ll be a shitshow either way. They’re all gonna say that you’re too good for me, which yeah, fair.”

You brush some loose hairs out of his face reassuringly. “They can think whatever they wanna think. Doesn’t make ‘em right.” You kiss his lips gently, with the soft whisper of a promise at the edge of your own lips guiding your touch. “I love you, Beetlejuice.”

Beetlejuice looks so utterly overwhelmed by emotion after you speak that he can only think to immediately bury his face against you silently. He’s holding so tight to you, as though you could disappear at any moment if his grip slackens. Like you’re his lifeline. After multiple moments of heavy breathing directly against your skin, he manages to barely choke out a response. “Ditto.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the demon, rubbing circles into his back as a comfort. “Just rest now, baby. You did great.”

Beetlejuice looks up at you in relief. “Oh God, thanks for saying that. I’ve been drowsy since we stopped, I just didn’t wanna leave you alone.” Never would’ve guessed him as the most considerate type, but he sure loves to prove me wrong.

“No worries Beej, I’ll be right here next to you. I’m not going anywhere. You can sleep.”

With those last affirmations, Beetlejuice’s eyes almost immediately droop shut as he begins snoring lightly, asleep at an impressive speed for a demon or human. It’s pretty cute how tired he must’ve been before you told him to rest, you didn’t even know for sure if demons wanted and/or needed sleep til now. Yet here he is, making deep contented rumblings from the back of his throat, his head and torso acting like a soft weighted blanket on top of you. The presence of him sleeping soundly on you is deeply comforting, both physically and emotionally. This demon, who’s lived a million lifetimes and dealt with more shit than I could imagine in both the world of the living and dead, trusts me enough to fall asleep on me. He trusted me enough to talk to me about his feelings during sex. Beetlejuice, of all people. Even if I told someone as understanding as one of the Maitlands about that, I don’t think they’d really believe me. Or even really get it.

You reach one arm down to pull a sheet up over the both of you sloppily, just to have something covering you both. Human instincts for avoiding being preyed on by demons in the night always persist, despite your unique situation. As you adjust you pillow to make yourself comfortable for the night, you run your fingers through Beetlejuice’s hair, which is now settling back into its default green without any more external stimuli. You wonder bemusedly if it ever changes color in his sleep, then feel a peaceful rush of happiness when you realize that you’ll have ample time and opportunity to find out the answer. Overtaken by a quiet joy, you quickly lean your head over to kiss him goodnight on the forehead, trying everything in your power to somehow physically materialize this feeling of affection for Beetlejuice that is so strong and all-consuming, just so you could hold it so close that nothing bad would ever happen to it. In lieu of that impossibility, you hold Beetlejuice tighter in your arms instead, with the same goal in your mind.

Author’s Note: this took me an indefensible amount of time to write and if i look at it for another second i’ll go crazy so please take it and look at it with your own eyeballs so that mine can rest. on the fun side, can you tell that characters who always flirt with others by making bold sexual references but end up actually being really flustered and submissive when the other person finally reciprocates are my favorites? anyways i wanna pick this guy up by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, he is so special to me. originally this fic was supposed to be way less emotional but sometimes you’re writing and a character decides to have a breakdown halfway through a scene and you just gotta deal with that curveball when it’s coming at you. but i’m pretty happy with how it turned out, and i hope you guys enjoyed it too. thanks for reading! edit: hey you, want some more? i finally made a sequel lol (x)