#i’m in an unreasonably good mood because of this

[crushmeeren]

Quickies with the MHA Boys!

Everyone involved in this work of fiction is 18+/aged up — if that bothers you block me or scroll on.

Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki

How the MHA Boys Eat You Out Link

———————————————————————

Bakugou Katsuki

Katsuki doesn’t mind quickies per se. He just has to be in the right mood for it. He’d much rather take his sweet time. Not wanting to rush, being able to relax afterwards — otherwise he’d rather just not have sex at all.

But there are times when he’s frustrated. When your schedules haven’t lined up, when you haven’t had sex in weeks — he gets pent up.

Katsuki’s the kind of guy who will lounge on your bed in just his tight black boxer briefs. Arms folded behind his head as he lazily waits for you to get out of the shower.

He knows it gives you a view that you’re unable to resist of his unreasonably slim waist and toned arms — as the position allows his biceps to flex involuntarily.

And of course, he’s completely aware that you have to leave for work in less than 20 minutes. He just doesn’t give a single shit.

He’s been dreaming about your warm pussy sucking in his cock in all night and there’s not a chance in hell he’s letting you go until he fucks you silly.

Tilting his head, he leers at your naked body as you drop your towel onto the bed. He urges you in a low, rasping voice to “come here baby,” sporting a wolfish grin.

You already know what he wants. It makes your stomach burn pleasantly with arousal.

“Five minutes Katsuki, I’m serious.” You shoot him a pointed glare. He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“As if I won’t have you cumming in less than two minutes.” The grin he levels you with is sharp around the edges.

Although, the man’s right to be confident.

Katsuki will push you onto the bed, cock already stiff and thick when he wiggles between your legs, yanking his briefs down to mid thigh.

You’re turned on enough that he slides in with relative ease, even if it burns a little, because let’s be real — he’s so hot you would take him any time, any place.

Katsuki will tug one of your legs up, hooking it over his shoulder. He’ll bend you in half and circle his fingers around your throat, applying pressure that’s just right.

With precision, he wholly makes this quickie worth it. Katsuki has your toes curling, cheeks flushed. Choking on your own moans as you cum.

He does exceptionally well with the time limit, pulling out and cumming all over your belly with a groan that leaks out between gritted teeth.

Almost exactly five minutes on the dot.

————————————————————————

Kirishima Eijirou

Eijirou has the spirit of a happy, care free, lovesick golden retriever. So naturally, he loves physical touch.

He’s addicted to constantly being in your space. Hugging you, holding your hand, pulling you to sit on his lap, kissing you.

And if we’re being honest, whenever he gets the chance, he’ll be inside you too. Stretching you out. Making you feel so good it melts your brain — if only because it makes him feel twice the amount of pleasure to you see come undone.

Needless to say, Eijirou enjoys quickies a fuck ton. He also is the sort of guy who gets literal heart eyes whenever you initiate one with him.

He’ll be relaxing on the couch, lost in some sort of video game when you snatch the controller out of his hands and place it out of his reach.

Eijirou sputters, glancing up at you in surprise. His startled expression turns to one of knowing when you straddle his lap. Your sundress bunching up and exposing the soft skin of your inner thighs in the process.

“I’ve got 10 minutes until I leave for my appointment. Wanna have sex Ei?” You ask teasingly, a coy smile playing on your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, gently trailing your fingers up the nape of his neck.

You swear if Eijirou had a tail it would be wagging. He moans low in his throat. Your light touch and filthy words are all it takes to get him hard, stiff cock pressing eagerly into your thigh.

“How could I ever say no to you gorgeous?” He beams at you with his sharp teeth, resting his hands your hips. You snicker, raising up a little so he can slid his shorts down enough to free himself — just under his balls.

He sneaks your panties to the side, rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, trying to hold in a whine.

He has mercy on you, gripping his shaft and parting your pussy with his cock until his head catches. You ease yourself down onto him until you’re fully seated in his lap.

You both simultaneously breathe out a sigh of relief.

After that, he lets you ride him until you’re sweaty and satiated. He praises you sweetly, holding your waist with a tight grip and helping you bounce.

“That’s it baby, take what you need. I’m right here, I’ve got you. Love it when you cum for me,” he coos, voice tender and adoring.

It’s effortless to cum like that, face buried in his shoulder while you rock back and forth in his lap. Letting him hug you tightly to his chest.

Once you come back down to earth, you check for the time, noticing you’ve only got two minutes left.

You taunt Eijirou with the time limit, telling him it’s his turn to cum before he has to take care of himself.

He chases his own pleasure desperately. Kissing you to keep himself from biting marks into your neck.

You’re only running a couple minutes late when you go, leaving Eijirou a sticky, gooey mess on the couch.

————————————————————————

Todoroki Shouto

Shouto, he’s, well — a mix of the two really. He enjoys taking his time, but he also cannot keep himself out of your bubble.

One of Shouto’s absolute favorite past times is cuddling with you.

The coziness of your body, the way you fit like a missing puzzle piece into his chest. The tender kisses he can trail across your neck and the ones you give him in return.

That’s why Shouto takes immense pleasure in those honey like, sweet and warm, limbs riddled with sleep morning quickies.

He can’t resist the temptation.

You’ll hear Shouto’s piercing alarm go off in the morning, jostling you from your dreams. The sheets rustle as Shouto maneuvers to turn off his alarm.

Your lids are droopy, and your limbs lag by a couple seconds when you turn over to cling to him.

You sprawl out half way on top of his chest and you slip your arms around his neck, nuzzling his shoulder.

“Sho,” you mumble in his ear, voice rasp and faint. He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you closer.

“Mm?” The noise he makes rumbles in his chest

“I want you before you go, please,” you plead softly, kissing along his jawline. He squeezes you tighter briefly, responding without a trace of hesitation.

“Turn over baby, I’ll have to make it quick.”

So, you shift around until you’re on your side. Back facing Shouto as he scoots in close, wiggling down until his forehead rests at the back of your neck.

He shoves the large T-shirt you’re wearing up to your ribs. Smoothing his hand over your bare ass and squeezing until your breath hitches in your throat. Shouto smacks your ass playfully.

Automatically you lift your thigh and Shouto grips underneath it to keep it in that position, shifting his legs until he’s got the right angle.

The silky, warm skin of his full cock slides along your pussy and you jolt. He must’ve got rid of his briefs at some point.

Shouto shift his hips, pressing the head of his cock to your pussy, rocking his hips unhurriedly until he’s sliding in and out completely with each thrust.

You’re already crying out his name, gripping the sheets.

“Is this what you needed Angel?” Shouto pants hotly against your neck. “Your pussy feels so good,” he moans, tone pushing into a whine.

You can’t speak, still halfway asleep as Shouto takes you with slow and deliberate thrusts.

He repeatedly presses into your sweet spot as your climax builds gradually. It’s like a faucet sluggishly dripping warm water into a cup until it fills to the brim and overflows through your veins.

It doesn’t take long for Shouto to cum after your pussy clenches around him like a vice.

He presses in until his balls are flush against your skin. Biting into the back of your shoulder blade with a high pitched moan. That will definitely leave a mark.

“I love you,” Shouto murmurs, planting a kiss to your cheek after he helps you get clean enough to fall back asleep.

You’re out like a light before you hear the door shut, hoping Shouto makes it to the agency on time.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

Sick Ned high on milk of the poppy. He has no filter and can’t stop flirting with Cat even in front of poor maester luwin.

Maester Luwin has once again been exposed to things he would rather not be exposed to, Ned has an unknown sickness/injury and Cat is tired. I cannot emphasise this enough; enjoy!

Maester Luwin had decided he would not die very quickly. There would be pain, or would take time to make a recovery, though in the end he would have his health and there was no danger to his life.

Therefore Catelyn did not worry for him particularly much. Of course she was unhappy with the state of her husband and felt his pain deeply, she wanted nothing but for him to be well again. Though she did not have the time to think of him. With Ned indisposed many of his duties passed to her, so there was much to occupy her thoughts with.

Though she took the time to visit him whenever she could. Most of the time he was asleep, then she merely sat at his bedside. Embroidered, mended clothing, read a book. That day was different, she had been told he was awake and had asked for her.

Her lord had asked for her and so she had put aside what she was doing and gone to him. It would be good to see those eyes of his for once, and hear his voice.

“Cat!” Ned said when she came into his chamber.

His gaze was somewhat foggy, he seemed to have trouble focusing on her. Still she had to smile when she saw him. He was right there all the time, though she missed him all the same. Missed having him with her more often.

Maester Luwin stood by Ned’s bedside. He said nothing, though nodded towards her.

“Good day, my love” she said to Ned.

He smiled back at her, looking surprisingly joyful for a man that should have been in terrible pain.

When she came to sit on the edge of the bed his smile grew even wider.

“How are you feeling?”

She reached towards him to touch his cheek. His beard had grown rather unruly, she would have to see to that.

“Better now when you’re here.”

He made himself more comfortable against the pillows, then took her hand and brought it from his cheek to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

“Are you not in pain?”

Officially the question was directed towards Ned, though she looked at Maester Luwin. Ned, of course not understanding that, began mumbling something incoherently.

“I give him as much of the milk of the poppy as I dare, my lady” Maester Luwin told her. “He should not be–“

Suddenly Ned’s words became more coherent, leading the poor maester to trail off into silence.

“I need no milk of the poppy when I have you.”

Catelyn squeezed his hand, letting her thumb run over the back.

“That is sweet, my dearest, though it would be good if you did not interrupt Maester Luwin.”

“I take no offence, my lady” Luwin assured her with a nod.

Both of them were well aware it was the milk of the poppy that was speaking, not Ned. He was not acting like himself.

Catelyn turned back to Ned.

“I was told you asked for me. Do you have something you wish to say?”

He blinked slowly, as if trying to remember what it was he wanted. She expected he would ask of the children or the grain stores or something else that had appeared in his mind. It was probably not doing him well to be indisposed and of no use.

“You’re beautiful” was what he actually said.

“Thank you, though what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Perhaps trying to get it out of him was an impossible task, though she could try. If he had wanted her to come there had to be something.

“I miss you” he continued.

She was with him more often than he was aware of.

“You should be better soon, then you will see me all the time.”

Then he would never be rid of her.

“I dream of you. What the maester gives me makes me dream.”

Maester Luwin cleared his throat.

“It’s very common with this–“

Once again Ned began talking over him and Catelyn could not help but sigh.

“It makes me ache for you.”

“Ned” Catelyn said firmly.

She did her very best to give him a stern look, though she believed it was ruined by that she was also a little amused by it.

When she glanced at Maester Luwin she saw that he had found a very interesting spot in the ceiling that he was studying.

“I want your skin–“

It was her turn to interrupt him, though she did so by placing her free hand over his mouth as she suspected he would not have listened to her otherwise.

“Oh hush with you, that is most improper.”

Ned raised his eyebrows at her, then she felt a sharp pain in the palm of her hand, making her immediately pull it back again.

“Did you bite me?” she exclaimed.

It had happened before, of course, though never in the palm of her hand. And never when they were not alone.

“Just a nip” Ned solemnly informed her. “You have never complained before.”

“Do forgive him, Maester Luwin, he is not acting like himself” she sighed.

Maester Luwin was not yet finished studying his finding in the ceiling, and he did not look at her as her answered.

“Lord Stark is affected by the poppy milk.”

The ridiculousness of it all struck her as she once again looked at her bedridden husband. It would be good to have him back on his feet again, she hoped it would be soon. And she prayed he would then continue to be in good health.

“I will leave you now as you so clearly cannot handle my presence” she chuckled.

Never before had she seen her lord husband pout, and she believed she would never see it again.

She leaned down and kissed his forehead, felt his fingers ghost over her cheek as she did so.

“Come back soon” he whispered.

“I will be back when I have time.”

When he was once again asleep and unaware of that she was there.

Maester Luwin did have a look of relief on his face as she nodded towards him and left the room. Perhaps he had tried to hide it, but she saw. And she understood it.

Catelyn met Robb not far away from there.

“How is Father? Can I visit him?”

“Perhaps you should wait” she told him. “He’s rather up on the clouds, the milk of the poppy makes his head very foggy.”

And his tongue very loose.

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN]

[4.7k] remus is dragged out to a rock pub after being influenced by sirius, but maybe the pretty punk girl talking to him makes it worth the sacrifice. even if she makes him unreasonably flustered. (smut)

based off the prompt: “i’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly”

.

Remus Lupin was never one to let peer pressure get to him, especially done by the likes of Sirius Black. 

His resolve was always pretty strong and despite his friend’s annoying persistency, he always did a pretty damn good job of telling him to fuck off before he finally caught the hint. It had been the practice over the many years of friendship the boys had shared and would most likely continue into their many years spent together into the future. 

Except for tonight. 

For some reason that was beyond him, he had broken his own tradition and found himself agreeing to whatever nonsense Sirius was rambling on about when he walked into the common room, dramatically sighing and pouting when he mentioned James bailed on him at the last minute for a date with Lily. 

“C’mon, Moony, it’s just one night,” Sirius had pleaded, half lying on the boy’s lap so he could grab the book out of his hands and gain the werewolf’s full attention. “Prongs is off with Evans and Peter has detention with Minnie. Come on! You’re my only hope!” 

“What about Mary?” 

“It’s not her scene.” 

“And Marlene?” 

“She slammed the door in my face before I could even ask.” 

Remus closed his eyes, letting out a sigh that told the boy his resolve was wearing thin. “And you can’t take Lily and James?” 

“I’m not being the fucking third wheel again,” Sirius scoffed, nose scrunched up as memories flashed through his mind. “Not after New Years. I don’t think I’ll ever get my innocence back.” 

Remus snorted. “Like you ever had it in the first place.” 

Sirius waved him off, eyes wide and hopeful as he flashed his friend a grin. “So you’ll come with?” 

“I–” 

“Brilliant, see you at six, Moony!” 

“I didn’t even say yes yet!” Remus called out after him but the boy was already running towards the common room door, not giving the boy a chance to even wiggle his way out of whatever Sirius had been begging him to attend. 

And maybe that was his mistake. He never asked Sirius what this event was, mostly because it was usually easier to not be an accomplice in his crimes—even by knowledge. But that was clearly the regrettable choice when Sirius dragged him away from the school, using the map to guide them through the secret passages until they were beyond the wards before apparating to merlin-knows-where. 

Because of fucking course Sirius Black would drag him to a punk rock grunge bar in a part of London he wasn’t familiar with.

“Pads,” he murmured in a warning voice, hands tucked into the pocket on his jacket as he followed his friend towards the door. 

“Just chill, Moony,” Sirius called out as the sound of music thumped beyond the closed doors. “Who knows, maybe you’ll have fun.” 

“In a muggle bar?” 

Sirius turned to look at him over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Who said it was a muggle bar?”

Remus held back his own wince the second the atmosphere of the bar hit him: the loud music, the throng of dancing bodies, the smell of alcohol and sweat and the taste of tobacco and marijuana thick in the clouded air. 

No wonder the little prick ran out before Remus could interrogate him on where they were going. 

To his credit, Sirius had stuck to his side for a total twenty minutes before the boy disappeared into the crowd of dancing partygoers, drink in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other. Remus could only laugh and shake his head as he watched his friend go. 

He knew there was nothing stopping him from walking out the pub and heading back. Despite his dramatics, Sirius would understand and wouldn’t hold it against him. But he knew the kind of mood his friend was in, and nine times out of ten, Remus would be needed to intervene before Sirius got his ass kicked. 

Might as well sit around until that moment inevitably came. 

He had tucked himself at the back of the pub where the bar was situated, taking a stool at the very end of the bar where he could sip on his drink and observe. He recognised most of the songs considering Sirius had played them in the dorm more times than he could remember, and he couldn’t deny he enjoyed some of them. But it was difficult to fit in when everybody there was in various pieces of leather clothing, chunky boots and more pieces of jewellry than he could ever imagine.

It was a pub full of Sirius Black’s and that thought was concerning enough for him to order another drink soon after.

He was fiddling with a napkin when a body slid between his stool and the one next to him, arms pressed against the sticky counter and the scent of vanilla overbearing his senses from the smell of the pub. It felt almost instinctive to keep his eyes on the napkin, watching the way the paper shredded with each piece he ripped off until he had a small pile lying beside his glass. It felt instinctive to keep his eyes anywhere but on the pair of eyes he could feel burning into his side. 

“You look like you’ve just been dropped here after your shift at the library.”

But something about the voice was magnetic and he couldn’t help himself from turning his head to peek at you through the mess of brown curls on his head and—fuck, it felt like someone had hit him right in the centre of his chest.

Remus had met many attractive people in his life. Pretty ones and handsome ones and gorgeous ones and ones that took your breath. Everyone had a side of beauty in them that could make them shine and stand out in a crowd, but fuck had he ever seen someone like you. 

His mind went completely blank when he looked at you, almost as though his brain was trying to process the fact you existed and were not just a perfect figment of his imagination. Your skin was covered with a thin layer of sweat, your hair was messy and wild from dancing and the makeup around your eyes looked a little more smudged than usual—but it was fucking mesmirising and he couldn’t find it within himself to look away.  

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—to you. Hell, even just to say hello but the boy found himself speechless as he openly gaped at you. 

“It’s cute though,” you reassured him, painted lips curving up in a smirk and it took him a few seconds to tear his eyes away from them. “Hot librarian is really in these days.” 

“I’m not a librarian!” he blurted out, his cheeks instantly heating up when he realised how loud he had him.

But you laughed and the embarrassment swelling in his chest eased up a little at the sound. 

“Of course not, silly,” you said with an amused tone in your voice. “You’re missing the glasses.” 

Remus could only let out a shaky breath, hand clenching around his glass a little too hard that he was honestly surprised it didn’t shatter in his hold but he couldn’t quite find the words to reply just yet. 

“So, how did you find yourself dragged out here?” you asked, seeming to take it upon yourself to continue the conversation even when the bartender dropped your drink in front of you. But you remained in your spot, tucked between the stools as you took a leisurely sip from the bottle you had just ordered. “Got a girlfriend who dragged you out?” 

His eyes widened a little. “No!” 

“No?” you questioned, not even bothering to bite back your smile. “Boyfriend then?” 

“No, no, I–” Remus paused for a moment, clearing his throat as he tried to string together a coherent sentence. “I came with my friend, Sirius. He didn’t have anyone to go with so…I came.”

You raised your brows. “Do I get to know your name or do I have to keep referring to you as Sirius’ cute friend?”

Remus only hoped the lights of the pub didn’t pick up on his burning cheeks, or the way the tips of his ears matched his blush. “I, uh, Remus. My name is Remus.” 

“Well, Remus, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said as you introduced yourself, extending your hand to the boy. You watched the way his eyes dropped to your hand, eyeing it carefully and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I promise I don’t bite.” 

His eyes widened. “No, I–” 

 “Unless you want me to,” you added and watched in delight the way his lips parted in surprise. 

Remus was different from every other witch and wizard in this establishment. From the tattered jeans and knitted sweater he wore to the worn trainers and dishevelled hair, he stood out like a sore thumb in a place like this. And yet, you loved it. 

You loved it when you spotted him from across the pub. You loved it when you pushed your way through the crowd and made your way to the bar to get closer to him. You loved it when you could see the way his eyes fought to not glance over as you settled beside him. 

You fucking loved how flustered he got around you. It wasn’t the first time you made a man feel that way and you doubt it would be the last, but there was something different—something more satisfying—when it came to Remus.

“I mean, I just—” he gulped a little when you stepped closer to him, his body seeming to have a mind of its own as his legs parted to accommodate you standing between them. “Yeah…” 

“Yeah? You’d like that?” you teased, head tilted to the side as you raised a hand to his face. Your finger traced down the line of his jaw, watching the way it clenched under your touch before he let out a shaky breath. “Maybe I can add to those wicked scars you have.” 

His heart was thundering in his chest. “Wicked?” 

“Wicked hot,” you murmured absentmindedly as you traced along the scars slashed across his face. They weren’t obvious, the pale marks almost invisible against his skin in the pub lighting but you noticed them the second you stepped between his legs. And fuck, you loved the way they looked. 

“T-Thanks,” he stuttered out, hooded eyes focused on how close you were to him. How fucking easy it would be for him to just lean down and—

“Do I make you nervous, Remus?” you asked innocently. 

His eyes snapped back up to meet yours, a small crease forming between his brows. “I–no, why would you think that?”

“You’re really hot and you’re breathing funny,” you told him, though the gleam in your eyes told him this was beyond concern. You knew you made him nervous and he knew you loved. Fuck, he loved it. You were the kind of girl people would tell him to run for the hills if he ever came across you, but he didn’t want to run. He wanted to stay right where he was even if it was his own ruination. 

“Crowds make me nervous,” he blurted out, smart enough to know you were teasing him but not quite brave enough to admit it. It seems like the Gryffindor within him couldn’t compete with the pretty girl standing between his legs.

Your smile made his breath catch in his throat. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he rasped as your hand fell to his chest, feeling his pounding heart beneath your palm before your hand slid down to intertwine with his.

“You wanna go somewhere a little more quiet?” 

And before he could even process the question, the words left his lips.

“Lead the way.” 

His drink was left abandoned on the bar counter as he let you pull him through the crowd of dancing witches and wizards. His eyes never strayed away from you, his attention completely locked on you as you led him down a dimly lit corridor before you reached a fire exit door and quickly pushed it open, leading him outside before the door closed behind you. 

He glanced around, picking up on the small space as the light chill brushed against his heated cheeks. It seemed like it was a back alley, blocked off from the main street. The space was decorated with some old, battered sofas and chairs but there was an odd sense of comradery in the air.

“Are we allowed to be back here?” he asked, taking a few steps deeper into the back alley. 

“Legally? No,” you stated simply, grinning at the way his head swivelled around to meet your gaze. “But that’s why it’s so fun.” 

“You’re confident we won’t get caught?” 

“Also no.” 

Remus huffed out a little laugh. It was almost like you were reading out the marauders motto and he found his chest tightening a little at the idea. 

He watched as you sauntered across the space, falling back onto one of the cracked leather sofas and grinned up at him. You patted the spot next to you, eyebrows raising a little in your offer and he couldn’t find it within himself to deny you. 

Remus settled into the spot next to you, his thigh pressed against your thigh and his shoulder pressed against your shoulder. He could feel his body tensing at the touch, his hands laying on his lap in tight fists as he cleared his throat a little to distract him from the way his stomach twisted in delight at the lack of space between you. 

“Relax, Remus,” you spoke softly, arm stretching out along the back of the sofa as your hand rested on his shoulder.

“You got something to help me relax?” he joked, though it came off a little flat with his shaky voice but you laughed regardless.

“Is that all you need to let me see the real Remus?” you questioned, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. 

His eyes caught the movement, body working on autopilot when his brain went blank with an array of thoughts that made him want to squirm in his seat. “Maybe so.”

“You should’ve told me earlier,” you grinned at him, watching as his eyes went comically wide as you reached into your bra, only to pull out a joint a few seconds later. “Got a light?” 

“Uh, no,” he murmured as he watched you place the joint between your lips. You raised your brows and Remus leaned forwards slightly, whispering a charm under his breath until the end of the joint lit up in a soft orange.

“Guess the nerd aesthetic isn’t for show,” you teased, taking a deep inhale before softly blowing out the smoke. “Good to see you got the looks and the brains, Remus.” 

But the boy could barely reply, just simply content to lay his head back on the back of the sofa and watch you. The way your body was twisted, turned towards him with your legs tucked underneath you. The way your painted lips wrapped around the joint, staining the rolling paper with the colour of your lipstick but it drove him even more mad to see the marks. Even the way your hair fell across your face, a mind of his own as the light breeze softly grazed your skin, goosebumps raised on your arms but you only grinned when he offered to charm a heating spell over you.

He was completely and utterly enamoured about you, and he couldn’t bring himself to even care or bother hiding it.

“You think you can handle a hit, big boy?” you asked, a dangerous look on your face that told Remus you could’ve asked him anything and he would’ve agreed to it. 

He nodded his head, eyes dipping down to your lipstick-stained joint before he lifted his hand to take it from you, but you acted quicker than the werewolf. 

Before he could even process it, you had swung your legs over him and planted yourself on his lap. Your smile widened when you saw the way his cheeks flushed, his hands instantly dropping to your waist and holding onto you, almost like he was scared you were going to jump off his lap. 

“Be a good boy f’me, okay?” you murmured before bringing the joint to your lips, taking a deep inhale and keeping the smoke in your mouth. 

Your eyes never looked away from him as you gripped his chin, watching his lips part just enough for you to lean down and slowly blow the smoke into his mouth. 

The boy beneath you let out a soft groan, your lips brushing against his and his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you a little closer. 

“Keep it there,” you ordered him softly, nose nudging against his as you watched his face. As you watched the way his eyes started to water slightly and his lips trembled and only then did you whisper again. “Let it out.”

His breaths were a little shaky as he stared up at you, eyes a little hooded and hazy as your hand still gripped his chin. You murmured a soft praise under your breath, thumb fanning over his pouty lips but it wasn’t enough. 

“Please,” he let out, his voice low and guttural and fuck, you couldn’t lie at the way your stomach clenched a little at the sound. 

“Such a gentleman, Remus,” you murmured before you threw the joint somewhere behind you on the ground, both hands grabbing his face before you pressed your lips against his. 

The boy shamelessly moaned against your lips, squeezing your hips as his lips began to move against yours. It was slow and lazy at first, no rush as your tongue teased him before you deepened the kiss. And then the pace started picking up and your hands were running up and down his chest, along his neck and through his hair and Remus felt like he was going to fucking explode. 

The way your fingers tangled in his messy brown hair, tugging his head to the side before your head dipped down to kiss along the expanse of his neck and jaw, nibbling on the skin softly just to hear the way he whimpered into your ear when your teeth bit down on the spot just below his ear. 

But no matter how passionately you kissed him and no matter how much he moaned, his hands never swayed away your hips. They stayed firmly planted at your sides, squeezing whenever you did anything that made his head fucking spin but they never moved. 

He didn’t want to push your boundaries or cross a line you didn’t want. The boy could barely comprehend the super hot witch grinding against his lap and kissing him until he couldn’t breathe, he wasn’t about to ruin it with wandering hands. 

But then you pulled away, lips red and swollen, and gave him a look that made his jeans feel tight around his cock. 

“Do you want to fuck or not?” you asked bluntly, eyes darkened by desire and lust for the werewolf beneath you. 

“I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly,” he blurted out, cheeks tinted pink by his confession but it was the least of his problem when a smirk split across your face. 

“Then touch me like you mean it,” you said as you slid your hands over his, guiding them along your sides and up your stomach until both hands rested over your tits. “Get it?” 

“Got it,” he confirmed with a nod of his head, hooded eyes stuck on your chest as he gave your tits an experimental squeeze. 

“C’mon, Remus,” you murmured as you leaned down to kiss along his jaw and towards his ear, lips brushing against him as your warm breath fanned over his skin. “Show me your wild side.”

Remus couldn’t get enough of you from that point on. Maybe it was the liquid courage. Maybe it was the weed that finally relaxed him. Or maybe it was that Gryffindor courage that finally made him get his head out of his ass and take what he wanted. 

Because he wanted you. Fuck, he wanted you badly. He wanted you the second he first laid his eyes on you and now here you were, sitting on his lap and practically ordering him to touch you, and he honestly thought he was seconds away from waking up from the best dream in his life but this was real. 

You were real. 

And Merlin, did Remus want to bask in every fucking moment of attention you gave him.

“Fuck,” you whispered between kisses, your fingers tugging the fabric of his knitted sweater over his head. “You taste like chocolate.” 

He lifted his hands, letting you chuck the sweater to the side before his hands were all over you again. The way he wrapped his arms around you, tugging you closer to him as your head dipped down to press kisses along his scars. The way his hands grabbed your ass, groaning at the way your jeans fitted you because it was just another thing added to your list of many perfections. 

“Are you particularly attached to this top?” he asked breathlessly, fingers digging into your thighs as he impatiently tugged on the denim fabric. 

Your hands moved to the button of your jeans, your belt already long gone and your jeans soon following. “Not really—” 

You hadn’t even finished talking before the sound of fabric ripping echoed against the brick walls of the back alley, your top now in shred and abandoned to the side before Remus’ face was nuzzled between your tits, his hands groping any inch of skin his lips couldn’t kiss. 

“Fucking knew it,” you moaned as your head fell back, nails digging into his shoulders as he began to leave pretty purple marks along the swells of your tits. “Wild side.” 

“Just wanna make you feel good,” he muttered as a pathetic defence, but defending his honour was the last thing on his mind when he could feel the fabric of your soaked panties pressed against the bulge of his jeans. 

Remus whined when you pulled away, even if it was for a short few moments to shed the remainder of the pieces of clothing keeping you away from each other. But then you were grabbing his face once again, fingers pressing into his cheeks as he stared up at you with wide eyes. 

“You gonna let me fuck you, baby?” 

He nodded. 

“You gonna make me feel good?” 

He nodded again. 

“Good,” you murmured before kissing him senseless, letting your moans be muffled by his lips against yours as you reached down to stroke his cock. He whined and bucked against your touch, letting out a pathetic whimper when you squeezed his tip before you slowly sunk down on him, eyes falling shut and curse words leaving your parted lips. 

“Shit,” he hissed, squeezing your hips as he watched himself disappear inside you. “You feel…so fucking good, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck, Remus,” you breathed out, nails digging into his shoulders but he couldn’t even bring himself to care about the sting of pain. Not when you were squeezing around his cock, making the werewolf whine in response. “That’s it, baby, let me hear it.”

The idea of silencing charms and spells were the last thing on either of your minds. It wouldn’t take long to do, maybe less than thirty seconds. But you would be lying if he didn’t fucking love the idea that anybody could walk through that fire door and catch you both. That anybody could come out here and see the flustered, needy boy beneath you. That anybody could see the way he begged for your touch, your kisses, your filthy words whispered in his ear.

“Remus,” you moaned, your words seeming to get choked up in your throat as you bounced up and down on his cock, as you listened to the way he whined about how good you felt. “Fuck, that’s it, baby, just like that.” 

He could feel the way you were clenching around him. He could see the way your eyes were fluttering shut, breathless remarks made as you tried to catch your breath but he knew you were struggling. Your legs starting to shake and your nails digging further into skin and you were close, so fucking close but you just—” 

“Shit!”

You could barely comprehend the wizard below you as he lifted you, his hips bucking up into you at a relentless speed that made it difficult to fight the orgasm washing over you. You whined as he kept going, kept fucking you as stars started to dance in your vision and your muscles tensed but he never stopped. Never stopped fucking you until you were whining his name. 

Your hands laid on his chest, your own lungs heaving for air as you rolled your hips against his, biting back the whimpers of pleasure that wanted to escape. “You didn’t—”

“Wanted to make you feel good,” he whispered as he kissed you, soft and chaste kisses that were pressed along your neck and chest as he continued to speak. “Wanna see you come again. You look so pretty when you come.” 

“Fuck,” you murmured as his hands on your hips started to move you on his cock again. “Remus, I can’t—”

“Shhh, relax,” he whispered between kisses. “Let me make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” 

And you didn’t have it within you to argue when he shifted you with unreasonably ease, picking you up like you weighed nothing until your back was pressed against the tattered leather sofa and he was crawling above you, kissing up your stomach and between your tits before he met your lips once again. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist like instinct, ankles locked behind his back as he slowly guided his cock back inside you with a guttural groan, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he slowly began to thrust. 

“Right there, baby, right there,” the words left your lips in breathless praises, seeming to spur the boy on as he gripped your hips, his tempo speeding up shit. “Shit, yes!” 

“Fuck,” Remus whined, his cock hard and desperate for release. He didn’t know how much longer he could last inside you, last with your nails raking down his back and face scrunched up as your second orgasm was so close. He couldn’t help himself as a hand disappeared between your bodies, pressing his thumb against your swollen clit and watching as your lips parted in a silent scream as you came, him following you seconds after. 

It took you a few minutes to ground yourself. To catch your breath and open your eyes, taking in your surroundings before you glanced down at the boy laying on your chest, his arms wrapped around you and soft kisses pressed on your skin that made your heart swell. 

“Did you really throw your joint on the floor?” 

The question caught you off guard before you laughed, your fingers running through his hair before he lifted his head up to look at you. “Want another hit?” 

“No, I just—” Remus flashed you a sheepish smile. “I felt bad, don’t want you to waste it.” 

“You’re quite adorable, aren’t you?” you commented casually, and despite the fact this boy had just given you two of the best orgasms of your life, he still had the audacity to blush at the simple compliment. 

“Thank you,” he murmured before pausing. “I think.”

“It was a compliment, Remus,” you hummed as you pushed some of his hair away from his face, eyes scanning the small details you hadn’t noticed before. The small scars you couldn’t see unless you were up close, or the freckles sprinkled along the bridge of his nose or apples of his cheeks. “More people oughta tell you how pretty you are.” 

He let out a slightly nervous laugh. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me pretty before.” 

“Tragic,” you muttered before smiling at him. “I guess I gotta change that.” 

His mood seemed to perk up a little. “You mean like…you’d wanna do this again?” 

“You don’t?” you teased.

“No, I do!” he blurted out before clearing his throat. “I-I would love to see you again.” 

“Good, because I wanna see how many other pretty ways I can make you blush, baby.”

And fuck, there were many ways a girl as pretty as you could make Remus Lupin blush.

.

[littledollll]

Satisfaction

Lucifer Morningstar x reader

A/n: I’ve had this idea for the LONGEST time, I’m so excited to finally have it done and out there.

Warnings: master-pet dynamic, overstimulation, mentions of orgasm denial, punishment, shoe riding, begging, crying, praise, degradation, worship, adoration, after care, mean Lucifer and then (slightly) sweet Luci. mostly condescending

_______________________________

“What a pity.” They muttered with a sigh, slouching just slightly against the chair they were seated on, watching you inevitably fail their ‘simple’ request to “just hold it.”

A disappointed look showed on Lucifer’s face at the sight of you. Eyes rolled back, thighs shaking and pressing together as your whole body tensed up and gave into the sweet yet unbearable feelings of release.

You gasped for air as you squirmed away from the toy under you. Their demands rang in your ears, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes.

“Yes you can. Just listen.” You received every time you shook your head, moans sounding more like sobs at being denied your release.

“I haven’t given you my permission yet. No, surely my good little puppy would wait until I do.” But that permission was never coming. That wicked smirk you could see even with your eyes closed reminded you.

“You can do it, pup. You just have to obey.”

But how? It was physically impossible to just stop your body’s natural reaction. You can’t just pretend there’s no vibrator set on torturing your beyond sensitive clit. You could feel your own wetness. Down your thighs and all over the sheets below you. You could also feel Lucifer’s watchful eyes, lingering on your face much longer than they needed to, like they were expecting something from you.

“Down.” Lucifer’s stern tone could surely be heard across the palace. But they had no shame in it. In Fact they bathed in the embarrassment it gave you, marking an adorable blush on your cheeks.

You knew what that tone meant. It was one rarely ever used, but it seemed like today Lucifer was in one of those moods.

“m sorry- im sorry I couldn’t- Luci..” you resorted to begging, pleading for them to forgive you. But they were set on what they wanted from you, after all, it was all intentional. Because no one in their right mind would just assume you’d be able to hold on any longer than a few good minutes with a vibrator pressed against your clit so deliciously. Their eyes peered down at you expectantly while they knew you couldn’t. It’s not physically possible.

“I don’t care. You directly disobeyed my orders. You came without my permission and now you will be punished. Get. Down.”

You hesitated, for reasons only god would even know. You knew better. Your mind was ready to run to your knees but your body wouldn’t move.

Lucifer quirked a brow, amused by this choice of yours. It wasn’t often that you tried to negotiate on punishments and much less just refuse them. Then again, it wasn’t often that you’d get away with it. “Don’t make me repeat myself again, pet.”

Down you went, as if your body was waiting for the final straw before giving in. Scrambling off the bed and to your knees at their feet. “You know what I want, don’t you?” Of course you did. It came up in conversation no more than a week ago, and suddenly you have an impossible challenge and a punishment because of it. They set you up to get exactly what they wanted.

Lucifer watched you inch closer, they could almost read your mind, sensing your hesitation in the way you looked up at them seeking guidance.

“Go on, pet.. let’s see if you enjoy it as much as I already am.”

The toy was left forgotten on the bed. The buzzing never left the back of your mind as it filled up the otherwise silent room with its noise.

If you were them, you would’ve rewarded anyone who resisted the urge to take it off without their command, given the unreasonable rules they had set. But Lucifer was cruel when they wanted to be, and today was just one of those days.

You released a shaky breath as you settled against their boot. They allowed you that, at least. A moment to start whenever you were ready. You didn’t feel rushed, specially not when one of their soft hands made its way into your messy hair and forcing your view up.

You looked up with hazy unfocused eyes only to be greeted by softness, a quiet reassurance. “You look so pretty like this.. perhaps I’d enjoy seeing you right there more often.”

Lucifer’s soft voice lulled you into an unfamiliar state of calmness. Everyone’s been calm before, but this felt different. You were performing for them, their observing, but not judging eyes. Yes, you’d be here more often, as long as it made them look at you as they were now. As long as it made you feel like it was now.

You moved at a slow pace at first, your over sensitive body wracking with shivers as you did. Your pulsing cunt sliding against their shiny boot. Your mouth falling open with moans and sighs as the texture of leather rubbed against your swollen clit.

“Does it feel good, pet?” You couldn’t say no. Your arms wrapped around their leg, both arms practically clinging against their strong calf as you worked yourself up faster.

A pitiful whimper fell from your lips in response. Your chest was already heaving, and your eyes were locked with theirs.

Lucifer looked pleased watching you. You wanted that. You needed it. That proud look on their face was all you lived for. Nothing else mattered. Not at that moment, not ever.

You felt a familiar burning sensation in your stomach, building up more and more with each messy roll of your hips. Their boot was slippery with your arousal.

In the haze of the moment, you were a bit startled when you felt a hand tangling itself into your hair, giving you a gentle caress as well as refocusing your view to Lucifer’s eyes.

“I know you’re all spacey, my pet. But I’d love it so much if you could try and keep your eyes on me, can we do that?”

You whimpered once more, nodding quickly. Lucifer chuckled. “Good pet. It’s okay if you’re close, darling.. let me see you cum for me.”

Your breathing turned to short pants, it was getting increasingly harder to keep your focus up at them. Your head fell against their thigh, nuzzling up against it weakly before your orgasm shot through your body.

It made Lucifer so proud to see those half-lidded eyes looking up at him, even as you squirmed and whimpered your pretty little heart out, you obeyed.

You looked at him with blurry vision and trembling limbs. Your heart was pounding so quickly Lucifer could feel it as you rested against them.

“That’s good, pet.. you’ve been very good for your master. Now breathe.” Their voice was much softer now, a hand caressing your cheek, before they took enough pity on you to lift you onto their lap and let you borrow yourself against them.

Kisses get littered all over your face, on your cheek, jaw, and a little down to your neck. But you could feel the intention behind it. They weren’t looking for more, simply grounding you in the moment.

“Breathe.” They whispered once more, their hands caressing you gently, arms, chest, your torso… anywhere they could reach.

“You’re so messy, little pet. You’ve left my nice boots all ruined now..” they said with a quiet sigh, faux disappointment practically dripping from their words but you didn’t have the mind to understand that right now.

It was part of the fun, to make you feel beyond humiliated. It was part of the fun to see you lower your head in shame, tears prickling your eyes even more at the thought of disappointing your master.

“I-..” you tripped over your own words with a whimper, wrapping your arms tightly around them as if they’d let you go because of this. Your face hidden against their neck. “I’m sorry, master..”

Lucifer heard a quiet sniffle after your soft words, as if you were afraid to speak. It made a smile spread across their face.

Lucifer relished in getting to be the one to build you up after putting you down. Being so mean to you only to reassure you that.. “Oh, no sweetheart, don't feel bad. It’s okay, I forgive you.” And feel your body relax once more, at their merciful forgiveness.

“you mean it-?” you mumbled against them, “I’m really sorry..”

“None of that, sweetest.. it’s just a silly pair of boots, isn’t it? I have plenty of those..” they reassured you so softly that it would be impossible to believe they did all of this on purpose.

As if they didn’t put you in this position simply because they wanted to see you in such a pathetic state. As if it wasn’t all part of their meticulously crafted plan.

As if it wasn’t all for their satisfaction.

[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!!

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

ICYMI: There are so many Japanese qls airing weekly, so I’m going to start posting this little round up at the end of each week. Most of these shows are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching!

Chaser Game W

We've reached the stage with this one where I'm just gonna say we should keep watching for the ratings and enjoy the pretty gifs.

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna 2

I got to watch episodes 5-8 of the new season this week, and I promptly lost my mind over how good this show is. It somehow got even better between seasons; the creators have some things to say about the experiences of women under heterosexual patriarchy. I already wrote about Kasuga's family trauma storyline and how much it meant to me, but these episodes also gave us Nomoto's ongoing queer awakening and journey to define her sexuality, the introduction of a new queer bestie in Yako, a better understanding of Nagumo and the careful and steady deepening of her relationship with the gals, a new confidant for Kasgua in Fujita, and Nomoto and Kasuga inching ever closer to defining what they are to each other. The world of the show and the support network around our leads continues to expand, and I am loving every moment. This drama is excellent and I cannot implore you enough to go to @furritsubs and catch up.

My Strawberry Film

Kicking off the last Drama Shower show of the season! This is a high school story featuring a classic trio—the Pining Gay, the Chaos Bisexual, and the Budding Lesbian. Obviously, I love them. I like the mood of this one—it's quite a tonal shift from the last show in this series—and the color grading is blue, blue, blue. And there's a mystery afoot as they try to track down the beautiful girl captured on film. Looking forward to more!

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka

I continue to love this show, though I am not entirely sure how I feel about the turn things took with Mizuki this week. I did not really want this to go the full blown love triangle route; I am more interested in a version of this story where Sakae and Soga try to figure out these adult complications from the foundation of being in a relationship, not with the constant interference of a third party. So few dramas are willing to get the couple together early and let them face things together rather than constantly playing the will they, won't they game, and I was hoping Sukidoya was going to be one of them. That said, I like that Mizuki is sticking around in the story because he's an interesting character, and I like the conflict with Soga's job (we have a preponderance of Japanese shows about unreasonable work conditions airing atm) and the temporary nature of his time in Osaka. That he's worried about eventually leaving tells you all you need to know about how much he likes and respects Sakae. If he felt casual about him he would not be worried about complications that far down the timeline. Let's see where they take this love triangle thing next week; I'm hoping it will be brief.

Perfect Propose

Great episode this week, and I love the way they continue to deepen the backstory for these two. Hiro being the first person to need Kai rather than pity him makes so much sense for their dynamic and why Kai would be so attached to him. And of course, when Kai returns the situation is the same; Hiro definitely still needs him. I love that they took a source of shame for Hiro and turned it into a reason why he and Kai are so compatible. Kai wants to take care of him—and he's not the only one! Loved seeing Hiro's coworkers express concern for his well-being and recognize how this job is grinding him down and breaking his spirit. It was so validating to hear from another high performer that the job is miserable and he should quit. It has nothing to do with failure; as Kaneko said, it's about seeking the life he truly wants. He sees Hiro's talent and knows he will not be able to flourish in this hellish work environment, and I thought it was so kind and compassionate of him to try to help Hiro see that. Also shoutout to Hiyori for sitting her ass back down and missing the last train when she realized prime gossip was about to arrive to her table, she's just like me fr.

Ossan's Love Returns

We are clearly in the drama spiral for the season now, and this show seems to be coming for my beloved Kurosawa. Thanks, I hate it! But the show found its humor again this week even as the sad plotlines for the side characters continued, and I was very happy to see it back in top form. I loved this story with Maki and Haruta caring for Goro for the week, and how it affirmed for them that they are actually not interested in having children. I told @bengiyo and @twig-tea when we saw last week's preview that Maki seemed like the type who wouldn't like children, and I was glad to see that affirmed by the show, and crucially, that he didn't change his mind via the power of Goro's cuteness. Not all people want to be parents, and it's so nice and refreshing to see a loving couple decide they just want to focus on each other, and that you can like kids and spend time with them without needing to have one of your own. I loved, too, that we got some focus on Chizu's struggles as a single mom, and her family rallied around her and made it clear she has support. Takegawa's sudden not-at-all-selfishly-motivated interest in polyamory was hilarious, as was Chief's journey to figure out what was causing his stress—until it wasn't, of course. I was glad Chuoko was with him when he got the news. And I am really hoping that rooftop kiss was Kiku's goodbye, and we will be seeing him move on from Izumi soon.

Bonus: Kimi no Koto Dake Mite Itai 

Shoutout to @my-rose-tinted-glasses for giffing this show and reminding me I still hadn't seen it! It was not accessible to me back when it came out and it fell off my radar for awhile. I watched today and thought it was just delightful. A short, sweet, warm hug of a friends to lovers high school bl with two very lovable leads. I highly recommend checking it out.

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil’s Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part two

I’ve loved seeing y’all’s comments so far 😈 This is the most evil I’ve ever felt when posting a fic

Warnings: Hotch being a dick (but get used to that bc it’s not stopping); brief non-descriptive smut at the end (the REAL smut comes later dw)

Don’t forget to follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be notified when a new chapter goes up!

Two: Was it obvious to everybody else? — “No Time To Die” by Billie Eilish

Aaron seemed to be doing better after a few more weeks. He settled in more, and got back in the groove of the BAU. You encouraged him to come out for drinks or dinner with the team, and he actually agreed. Probably because you were there, but you didn’t talk about that.

You didn’t talk about how he ended up coming home with you, or vice versa. How most days you woke up next to each other, no clothes separating you. How it really wasn’t appropriate for a boss to date an employee, especially in the FBI.

But you kept things professional in the BAU office. No one knew any different. Even out with the team, you kept your distance. You stood across the table from him most nights at the bars, to exercise restraint when you had alcohol in your system. Never mind the fact that he left first, and you shortly after, but you came in separate cars, so no one suspected a thing.

He was smiling more, laughing just a little. He had his moods, his moments when the grief manifested as irritation that he couldn't hide. His short sentences made their appearances, but they did before.

Hotch really seemed to be doing better, and everyone was relieved, happy for him.

Until the next case.

Everyone saw it. The similarities to what happened with Foyet were downright uncanny. The phone call, the taunting, right down to the husband coming home to find the mother and child murdered before he was murdered as well.

Everyone saw the sudden change in Hotch.

You kept a watchful eye on him as JJ gave the case. You weren’t the only one watching Hotch, but you were definitely the least discreet. And he noticed, locking eyes with you once and returning your concerned gaze with a frustrated glare.

“Wheels up in 15,” Hotch said, standing and scooping up his files. “Y/N, I need to speak with you in my office.”

You followed him, shrugging your shoulders to the rest of the team when they gave you questioning looks. You were sure he was upset that you kept watching him, but considering how things had been going lately for the two of you, you thought he might want…something else. You tried not to let your excitement show.

Hotch stood in his office with his hand on the door, waiting for you. He shut it behind you.

“Do we have a problem?”

You took a step back, blinking in shock. Never mind on the sex, then. “Excuse me?”

“Do we have a problem?” Hotch repeated. He hadn’t raised his voice, but he didn’t need to.

“No, sir,” you answered. It had been a while since you spoke to him this way, where he was very clearly your boss, Agent Hotchner, and not Aaron who you took showers with. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, which you knew was a lie. “We have somewhere to be.”

You nodded. “Let’s go.”

+++

You sat away from Hotch on the plane, opting for a spot on the couch next to JJ. He was unreasonably angry with you at the moment, and you had no idea why, but you were determined to find out.

When he excused himself to the bathroom, you leaned closer to JJ. “Is it just me, or is he on edge?”

She didn’t need you to specify who he is. She nodded with wide eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on. This case went straight to his desk and he approved it before even showing it to me,” she said. “I don’t even know if we’ve officially been invited in. I’m trying to figure that out before we get there.”

“What?” you hissed. He never did that. “JJ, that’s not good.”

“I know,” she nodded, looking down at her file. Quietly, she mumbled, “It’s so similar.”

You heard the bathroom door open, so all you did was silently nod in reply. The details were too similar, and if he personally approved the case…

He shouldn’t be back at work. You knew in your gut that day that it was too soon. Things were going so well, you thought maybe you were wrong, maybe being back at work was what he needed to stay sane. But this was bad, especially for him.

Garcia said he passed his psych eval, but that means nothing to profilers. All of you know how to answer those questions correctly to get back to work, even if you shouldn’t be back. Everyone has done it at least once after being injured, but the situations have never been as bad as Hotch’s.

He should be retired. You knew it, even though you’d hate to see him gone.

“Y/N, I want you to come with me and Morgan to the crime scene,” Hotch announced, startling you. “It’s a big home, so we’ll need to split up. JJ, set up at the precinct with Reid, we need to know everything we can about this family. Get Garcia to send any and all information over. Emily, go with Rossi to some of the neighbors, maybe they noticed something leading up to this.”

Everyone nodded, knowing their next steps. You kept your eyes purposefully away from Hotch’s, wondering how the crime scene was going to go over with him.

+++

Morgan drove to the crime scene (you were surprised Hotch let him) and you sat in the backseat, able to share glances with Morgan through the rearview mirror.

Out of everyone on the team, Morgan is the most likely to ask the difficult questions, no matter who it is. Hotch wasn’t exempt from Morgan’s curiosity.

So you were not surprised when Morgan voiced the concerns that had been swirling in your head.

“Hotch, listen,” Morgan began, and you knew exactly where it was going. “Are you sure you want to go to the crime scene?”

“Yes,” Hotch replied, quick and sharp. “Why?”

Morgan shrugged, though you both knew the answer. “I noticed some similarities in the case file.”

“To?”

You sighed. His stubbornness was going to make this case unbearable. “To Foyet,” you blurted, ripping the bandaid off. “I know you saw it too.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment. “I did.”

“Okay,” Morgan said. “If it’s too much, Hotch, that’s okay. You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine,” he snapped, his temper already rising. “If it wasn’t, I’d be elsewhere. I don’t need to be micromanaged.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Morgan snapped back, becoming just as irritated. “I’m here for you, man. I know none of us understand what you’ve been through, but we’re looking out for you.”

“Thanks.”

You shared a look with Morgan in the rearview mirror, raising your eyebrows at each other.

+++

Aaron stood idly in the living room. The father, Jonathan, was killed there. Behind the couch, a blood stain soaks into cream carpet.

Family pictures decorated the walls, mostly of the daughter, Elise. Very few had the mother, Georgia, next to the father. Marital problems were brewing just under the surface.

A lamp laid across the back of the couch, the shade ripped and crooked. The struggle lasted longer than the police initially thought. Aaron knew it had. He remembered. The fury that ignites when a father sees his wife and son together, dead, mutilated like animals.

Even if Jonathan was never going to win the fight, he was determined to do damage before he went down. To make the unsub pay. Aaron wouldn’t be surprised if the unsub has bruises and cuts at the very least, a broken rib or two at most.

Upstairs, Aaron could hear your and Morgan’s muffled voices and soft footsteps. He remembered how silent the house was when he arrived, when Foyet was hiding. No one moved, no one breathed. The house braced itself for what was to come.

Aaron turned toward the staircase, heard his body tumbling down on top of Foyet’s. The groaning of pain, he thought one of Foyet’s ribs broke then. Or maybe it finally broke when he kicked him.

The glass coffee table was cracked, surprisingly not shattered, but one more hit would’ve done it.

One more hit. One more. Just one more.

Aaron closed his eyes, his face warm with the memory of blood splattering his skin. Knuckles cracking from punch after punch after punch. Foyet had long gone silent, all that was left was the sound of Aaron’s heartbeat pounding in his ears.

His fists clenched. When he got his hands on this unsub…

“Nothing identifiable upstairs,” you said.

Hotch opened his eyes. He didn’t hear you or Morgan come down. You both insisted on taking the second floor, where the mother and daughter were murdered, and Hotch didn’t argue. He wanted to be left alone.

“It doesn’t look like they struggled,” Morgan added. “They might have known him.”

“Or he used a ruse,” Hotch said, his words clipped.

“Or that,” you nodded, not wanting to argue with him. “It doesn’t look like they suffered. Torture was not part of this.”

Hotch didn’t look at you. He knew what you were trying to do. And he didn’t want to hear it.

“The father struggled with our unsub for a while,” Hotch noted, pointing out his observations. “Our unsub is in shape, as was the father.”

“Garcia said the father had a gym membership,” Morgan supplied. Garcia had called while you were upstairs with some extra details and to check on Hotch.

“Both of you go there next,” Hotch said. “I’ll go back to the precinct.”

“Alright,” you said, glad to get him out of the house.

+++

After dropping Hotch off at the precinct, you and Morgan headed straight to the gym where the father regularly went.

Unfortunately, it turned up empty. The manager gave you and Morgan full access to all of the security footage, and you were able to see Jonathan on it, but nothing suspicious. You sent all of the tapes to Garcia to review more closely, but you didn’t think anything would come out of them. (Nothing did.)

Hotch finally told everyone to get some sleep around ten, but to be back at it by seven the next morning. It took some convincing, but you got him to get in the car with you.

“Even if you don’t sleep,” you said. “You can still shower and relax. Get out of the suit for a few hours.”

He smirked. And nodded.

And ended up in your bed just an hour later.

Not a single hint of alcohol was on his lips. His hair was wet from a shower, and his back was still damp. He barely made it out from under the water before throwing clothes on to come next door to see you. And you barely had enough time to register what he was there for before he was hovering over you on the bed.

“Please,” he whispered, toying with the hem of your t-shirt. “Let me.”

It didn’t take much more than that. You had wanted this for so long.

Clothes flung in every direction; you’d find them tomorrow morning at some point, when it mattered. It didn’t matter at the moment. The only thing that did was feeling Hotch’s skin on yours, feeling his fingertips tighten on your hip bones.

All he wanted was to make you feel good, to apologize for his mood in this one way that he knew you’d understand. He didn’t mean it when he got sharp with you, not really. He never wanted to. It always just happened. He couldn’t ever control it.

Somehow, with no words at all, you understood. “I know,” you murmured over and over, threading your fingers through his hair. With every kiss, every thrust, every breath, you knew. You knew what he wanted to say, but was too afraid to utter. You knew. You knew him.

[shellyballas]

BEG FOR IT ~ James Potter enemies to lovers smut

She watched him as he ran his hands through his dark waves. He was everywhere. She couldn’t get away from him. Everywhere she went he seemed to go. Teasing her, annoying her. Anything to get on her nerves.

James Potter had been her sworn enemy since their third year of school. Lorelei had transferred from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts when she was 13. James has always been the golden boy. Top of every class, every teaches favourite. However all that changes when Lorelei beat his score in their first DADA test at the beginning of that year.

*flashback*

Lorelei sat nervously as her professor went round handing back their parchment. Professor Cosgrove was known for never grading anybody higher than 90%. He said he didn’t believe in it.

The only person who had ever gotten above 90 was the one and only James Potter.

“Nigel Morrison not bad. Hetty Periford could have been better researched” professor Cosgrove droned on.

“James Potter, we’ll done”.

James stared down at the 88% at the top of his parchment an felt pretty chuffed.

“Sirius, Oi Padfoot” James poked his friend “how did you do?”

Sirius pointed to the 76 on his parchment and rolled his eyes. James then proceeded to show off his score while smiling at his disgruntled friend.

“Lorelei Armstrong” the professor paused to look at her “excellent dear”

Lorelei smiled when she saw her results and then thanked the professor. This caught James’s attention.

When class had ended he sauntered over to Lorelei and smiled his most charming smile. James had noticed her before, how could he not. She was funny and charismatic and extremely good looking with her long dark curls and big dark eyes and had quickly become known as the years “most desirable” which was a highly sought after title.

However as it was still only the first week James had never spoken to her directly. He introduced himself and she told her friend she’d catch up with them later.

“Professor Cosgrove is brutal for giving essays the first week back” he said smiling as he tilting his head to the side.

Lorelei smiled “yes he does seem like quite a disagreeable man”

“You mean he’s a huge ass” correct James.

She laughed and the both started to walk back to the Griffindor common room.

“So how did you do” James asked finally able to get the answer to Lorelei’s smile as she saw her score “He insists on never giving anyone over 90 so don’t worry about never getting one”

“Well he must have felt extra generous when he graded my essay because he gave me a 94.”

James was shocked. Nobody else had ever beaten him before let alone gotten 94. His expression turned sour.

“We’ll like you said he was probably just being nice”

Lorelei’s face harden. She was surprised by his sudden change in demeanour. Prick she thought. She turned to him.

“Why, is it so impossible that I got a good grade on my own merit?”

James was furious at her. Unreasonably, yes but that didn’t stop him. He knew it wasn’t her fault but James was not used to being challenged.

He tried to think of something to say. Anything.

“Your skirt is to short” he replied and then sauntered away.

Later, after he had cooled off James realised how poorly he had acted and made up his mind to apologise.

The next day James was in a great mood. He had a certain sort of spring in his step. His hair was falling in his signature effortlessly perfect sort of way. He strolled down to the main hall for breakfast and seated himself between Sirius and Remus. As they all chatted about quidditch and upcoming tests his eye was caught by a certain gorgeous brunette as she laughed entering the great hall. James thought she looked quite beautiful when she laughed.

“Whatcha staring at Prongs?” Asked Remus as he saw that James was no longer paying attention.

Sirius laughed “only James’s new best friend”

James had told Sirius about his encounter with Lorelei in their shared dormitory.

James then told Remus and he sighed.

“I’m sure many boys will be delighted that the famous James Potter as fallen into her bad books. Might give them a fighting chance” Sirius teased.

James swatted his arm and told him to shut up but the thought of it made him feel uneasy. As if on queue, Fredrick Handstead approached Lorelei where she sat. This was very displeasing to James. Fred was a Slytherin who played against James in quidditch which often resulted in fights between the two.

James watched the interaction carefully and found his fist clenching as she giggled at something he said.

“Cheer up Prongs” said Remus “I’m sure if you flick your hair at her she’ll hardly be able to resist you!”

On the other side of the Griffindor table, Lorelei smiled as Fred Handstead walked back to the Slytherin table.

“He sooo likes you!” Giggled Scarlett

“We’ll of course he does, he asked her on a date idiot!” Laughed Sylvie.

Sylvie was Lorelei’s favourite person at Hogwarts so far. She was smart and witty and had all the qualities she valued in a person.

“It’s just coffee” she replied “besides it’s my first week here, I’m not putting all my eggs in one basket.”

“Why, you got your eye on someone? Could it possibly be a certain Mr Potter who’s eyes haven’t left you all morning?”

Lorelei looked over to where James and his friends were sitting. He promptly looked away and pretended to be looking at the ceiling.

“After our encounter yesterday I’m pretty sure he’d rather eat slugs”

After James had sauntered off, Lorelei has stormed up to her dorm. There she told Sylvie and Scarlett all that had happened. They both found it hilarious and applauded her for sticking up for herself instead of dropping to her knees and sucking him off like a lot of other girls would.

“You don’t want him then send him this way” said Scarlett. It was no secret that she and many other girls would swoon if James so much as smiled at them. He was a complete womaniser.

The girls laughed and finished eating then made their way to their first class. Unfortunately for Lorelei, it was one of the many she shared with James.

As the three boys entered the classroom James muttered something about saving him a seat and headed straight for Lorelei.

“Hi” James mentally smacked himself. Could he have not thought of something more interesting to say!

Lorelei glanced to Sylvie who smirked and excused herself to join their other friends. Lorelei turned to James and smiled sweetly.

“Well look who it is! Merlin himself” she mocked “come to see if I need help finding a seat since I can’t do anything without someone being nice to me? Maybe you want to put in a good word to the professor for me, huh, make sure she’s nice to me too?”

James was taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered. He smirked at her.

“Just making sure you didn’t trip over something with your nose so high in the air”

Lorelei was furious. She didn’t understand why he was so obnoxious.

“Well I don’t have as much practice as you but I think I’ll manage”

And with that, she turned on her heal and strutted over to her friends. James watched her leave slightly stunned. And then he realised he skirt was even shorter than yesterday.

*end of flashback*

Ever since then, Lorelei and James were bitter rivals. Each trying to outdo the other. Which brought them to their 6th year.

It was a beautiful sunny day and most of the school were outside soaking up the sun. However Lorelei and Sylvie were up in their dorm room. Sylvie was helping Lorelei get ready for a date with Charles Everdeen. Lorelei was wearing a gorgeous white summer dress that complimented her curves nicely she was applying the finishing touches to her makeup when Sylvie told he to hurry up or she would be late.

With promises to tell her everything, Lorelei hugged Sylvie and left to meet Charles. This was to be their first date and they had arranged to meet at a previously agreed location.

She waited.

10 minutes late. Lorelei started to worry.

15 minutes late.

20 minutes late.

Finally 40 minutes later, a dejected looking Charles came round the corner. Lorelei was discussed. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his explanation.

“Lorelei I …” Charles trailed off with a troubled expression on his face. “I … I don’t think we should do this I mean the timing is off and we have to prioritise our study this year and I really don’t think this is the right time for either of us” Charles spoke fast as if he was scared that he might be shot.

Lorelei raised her eyebrows. She was furious. Not at poor Charles who looked like he had seen a ghost but at someone else entirely.

“Charles”

“Yes” he almost whispered

“Did James say something to you?”

“James umm … no uhh why would you think that … I”

“Charles” Lorelei warned. She looked at him with a look she had perfected that made the person on the receiving end shiver.

“Fine” sighed Charles “ he said that if I took you on this date then he would hang me from the astronomy tower by my underwear”

Lorelei was fuming.

“Charles, why don’t you go and have a lie down”

The poor boy looked like he was about to pass out.

Charles nodded and scurried away. Lorelei turned and stormed to where she knew she would find him.

The late September sun shone down on the marauders as they lounged under their favourite tree.

Remus was reading while Sirius and James talked about the upcoming quidditch match against Huffelpuff. Quidditch never interested Remus much. James was releasing and catching a snitch he had stolen over and over as he talked.

“Say James” said Sirius suddenly “have you interfered in a certain lovely ladies life recently?”

James looked at him confused.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Lorelei is charging over here with a look on her face that would scare “you know who””

James turned just in time to see Lorelei storming toward him.

“You evil loathsome obnoxious but faced miscreant!”

Lorelie came to a stop in front of James and glared down at him. James sat up and fainted a look of surprise.

“Me? But faced? Is this true Sirius?”

Sirius was to busy trying not to find himself on the receiving end of Lorelei death stare to answer.

“Every single time James! EVERY TIME! What makes you think you have the right to deter, to sabotage every single one of my dates”

“I don’t know what your talking about”

“JAMES”

“He probably just realised what an insufferable lunatic you are and had second thoughts”

“Do you have me so much you are hell bent on destroying my life!” Raged Lorelei

I was the same old routine. Someone would finally have the courage to ask her out (most people were terrified of what James would do to them) and then at the last minute he would scare them or threaten them and she end up here screaming at him.

“I’m just doing them a favour sweetheart. Saving them from you”

“Aghhhhhhh”

Lorelei, seeing this conversation was going nowhere stopped off hoping to walk off her rage.

The Griffindor Christmas party was the most exclusive, out of control party of the year. The quidditch team hosted in the room of requirements and invitations were few and far between.

Lorelei and Sylvie were lucky and were now almost expected at these parties thanks to their party girl reputations, good looks and the fact that one member of the team or another we’re always trying to get in their pants.

Lorelei and Sylvie were late. But then again, they were always late to parties. Sylvie was wearing a tiny black dress while Lorelei was wearing a matching red one. With their contrasting appearance, Lorelei’s dark curls and eyes and Sylvie’s blue eyes and blond hair, they were a sight for sore eyes.

Lorelei finished painting her nails red, preformed a quick fast drying charm and they were on their way.

James was drunk, very drunk. And having a wonderful time. Captain of the quidditch team and having just beaten Slytherin in a very important match it would be fair to say James was on top of the world.

Some pretty Ravenclaw was sat on his lap talking about something he didn’t care about when he saw her.

Taking a shot from the floating drink trays she downed it in one and went for another. James was bewitched. He couldn’t look away.

Sirius saw his friend expression and rolled his eyes “just shoot your shot already”

“Huh”

“You’ve been pining after her for years” exclaimed sirius exasperated.

“Don’t know what your talking about”

Sirius rolled his eyes again and went back to making out with whatever girl he was seeing at the moment.

The more hours passed the drunker everyone got. Lorelei found herself on the dance floor as she did at most parties shaking and swaying her hips to the music

She felt someone press up against her back and saw Colin Jenkins behind her. He was hot so she let him grab her hips and dance with her.

From across the room James Potters great mood had been ruined by the sight I front of him. He was gripping his class so tightly it was a miracle it didn’t shatter in his hand.

Suddenly something inside of him snapped. He downed his drink and sauntered towards Lorelei.

Lorelei suddenly felt a hand enclose her wrist.

“Hey”

“Hey Colin can I borrow Lorelei here for a moment, I can, great thanks”

And with that he dragged her off the dance floor and over to a dark candle lit corner of the room.

“What the fuck James”

Lorelei was fuming. James admired her appearance for a moment. A wave of confidence had washed over him.

“Did you enjoy the match today”

“WHAT! You drag me away to ask me if I enjoyed the match! Oh my god Potter you are the most infuriating person I have ever met!”

Lorelei scowled up at him, furious that he had dragged her away.

James smirked “oh yeah”

“You can’t seriously or proud of that”

The pair were standing so close to each other that James could practically taste her perfume.

“You think your gods gift don’t you” Lorelei poked James’s chest with her finger as he towered over her.

“But you are nothing more thank a stuck up ass wipe”

“Is that so”

“Yes, yes it is so”

“Tell me more”

“You James Potter are a good for nothing toe rag”

Poke

“Who struts around acting like your a god …”

Poke

“…damn…”

Poke

“…saint!”

James suddenly grabbed her waist pulling her close.

“You know what I think” he said softly.

Lorelei was to stunned to speak. All she could do was state into his oh so gorgeous eyes.

“I think you look amazing in this dress”

James slid his hand up Lorelei’s back and toyed with one of the straps on her shoulder. His touch made her shiver as the hand she had on his chest began to clutch his shirt.

Her breathing quickened and she was sure he could heel how fast her heart was beating as he stared thoughtfully at her strap.

“You know what else I think?”

Lorelei could no nothing but wait for his response, entranced but the man in front of her. His hair messy, eyes so dark she felt as if they could see into her soul.

“I think it would look even better off”

Grabbing her jaw with one hand James slammed his lips onto Lorelei’s. The kiss was forceful, it was messy, it was pure lust.

James reached behind her and snapped her strap against her back. Lorelei moaned granting his tongue access to her mouth.

Lorelei ran her hands through his thick hair and James moved his lips to her jaw, peppering kisses down her neck.

Suddenly James pulled away. He admired the sight in front of him. Her swollen lips, her lust filled eyes, all for him.

He bend down and whisper in her ear.

“Let’s get out of here”

All Lorelei could do was nod as James grabbed her hand and dragged he up to his dorm room. As soon as the door closed behind her, Lorelei was pushed against it. James’s hands found home on her hips as he kissed her as if she was oxygen and he was struggling to breath.

All of a sudden, Lorelei spun free of his right grip and turned so James had his back against the door. She needed to regain control.

Slowly she dropped to her knees in front of him. She smirked up at him as she began to undo his jeans.

James’s had never seen a more perfect sight. Her eyes wide and dark peering up at him through her thick lashes, all for him.

Slowly Lorelei started to palm his length. James let out a low grown. Spurred on by his reaction, she licked a strip up his length and began to take him in her mouth.

“Fuck darling” James moaned “so fucking perfect”

Lorelei started to bob her head up and down extracting more praise from the man in front of her.

“Taking me so well sweetheart”

“Such a good little slut for me”

James then grabbed her chin and pulled her to her feat.

“As heavenly as that mouth of yours feels” murmured James “I think if I don’t get you on that bed I might loose my mind”

James’s lips found hers as he walked her backwards. James spun her around and started to kiss her neck as he’s slowly unzipped her dress.

James felt as if all his Christmas’s had come at once. As the satin dress slipped from her body revealing he black lingerie, James had never been so turned on in his entire life.

He gently lay he down on his bed. He then reached between her breasts and snapped her bra off.

“Hey!” Whined Lorelei “that was one of my favourites”

James smiled as he kissed her.

“I’ll buy you 10 more”

Lorelei then began to unbutton his shirt and when that had been discarded James crawled down and began to slide her panties off. Once she was complete bare under him, he slipped two fingers into her mouth.

“Suck” he commanded

Lorelei did as he was told. He then removed his fingers with a satisfying pop and began to trail them down her body stopping just above where she needed him most.

Lorelei whined beneath him.

“Tell me what you want”

“James” she whined

“I want to hear you say it” James taunted “want to hear you beg for it”

“Please”

“You can do better than that”

“Please touch me James please I’ll be so good I promise”

James smiled above her. He then insirted his long digits into her.

“Well since you asked so nicely”

Lorelei was a mess. A hot moaning mess. And James loved it. He loved the way her face contorted in pleasure. He loves the sweet sounds that fell from her lips. He loved the way she arched her back.

“So wet for me” he cooed

Lorelei could fell her high approaching. Just as she was about to cum, James removed his fingers much to Lorelei’s dismay. She whined at the loss of contact.

“Say it. Say your all mine and mine only, no one else’s”

“I’m all yours James, all yours”

Satisfied with her response he began to pleasure her again. Soon Lorelei was cumming. She threw her head back as the pleasure washed over her.

James then brought her fingers to her mouth, demanding she suck again. He watched her. Obsessed. He was obsessed with her mouth, her hips, her breasts, everything.

James then lined himself up with her entrance and slowly began to pushh into her.

“Fuck doll, so tight”

Once he had bottomed out he stoped moving. Lorelei protested.

“Tell me what you want doll”

“Want you to fuck me”

And with that, James started pounding into her. He was relentless, like a man possessed. Profanities left both their lips as they chased their high. The sound on skin slapping skin mixed with their moans filled the room.

Soon James’s thrusts became sloppy.

“I’m so close” moaned Lorelei

“Cum for me darling”

And she did, triggering his release. James rode out their high and then collapsed beside her wrapped one arm around her and pulling her close.

They both lay there for a moment just processing what had just happened. Then James looked over at Lorelei with a mischievous look in his eye.

“You look a bit sweaty Armstrong, you should probably have a shower”

Lorelei just laughed and swatted his arm as he scooped her up and carried her to the shower.

“This is never happened again Potter so don’t get used to it”

“Sure sure”

“I’m serious”

“Of course you are”

[josibunn]

a few days ago I had gotten an anonymous request to do a noncon version of my first evert fic here (“all mine, right?”) but I deleted it because I hated how I rewrote it. I was rushing it bc my own writing made me uncomfortable, so I scrapped it in a whole, sorry anon😭. but i’m thankful for the request bc GOD i HATE that fic!!! even though it was my first I just hate how I wrote it in general. here it is! thank u sm for being patient.

smut! unprotected p in v, noncon, restraining, choking, øystein is really mean here. manipulation, some name calling, a very mean (but on character) threat is made by him to varg, mentions of shooting him. you and euronymous get in an argument, and varg tries to “pick your head up” and it doesn’t end well. please heed the warnings!

you and your boyfriend had been arguing since you stepped out the house. over a fucking dress. you thought you looked good, you knew you looked good, which was why he was on bad timing, you looked too fucking good. so stupid, right?

you weren’t even able to step into your heels before øystein had something to say, which was odd, because he was never one to tell you to change. “what the fuck are you wearing? when did you get this??” he starts, and you stare at him dumbfounded. “what?” “the dress, [y/n].” he says, and off the bat you can tell he’s in a mood, he never uses your name, always stuck with pet names, baby, princess, love, song bird.

(you liked that one, once he let you record vocals over a song just for shits and giggles but ended up loving it and keeping it on the track, “look at you, following in my footsteps.” he praised, cupping your cheeks and kissing you. “just like a little song bird. hm?” he giggled, it was cute.)

“the dress?? what’s wrong with it?” you look over yourself, smoothing it down. it was a velvety white strapless mini dress with a cute bow at the breast of it, you paired it with some heels and a choker and a few bracelets euronymous had gotten you. “it’s cute, right?” you ask, and he circles you, “take it off.” he spits, and you recoil. “what?” “take it the fuck off, you’re not wearing it to the show. that’s dead.” he walks out the room, and you follow him.

you couldn’t believe it, was he actually serious right now? was he acting like this over a dress? a dress he went with you to get, AND paid for?? the fuck??

you guys fought around the house for almost fifteen minutes, of course you weren’t giving it up. his only problem was how see through it was. every curve and crevice could be seen, your dark nipples and tiny pin underwear could be seen through it, had you’d worn it for him and him only he would’ve devoured you open.

“you’re being fucking unreasonable! if you didn’t like it you shouldn’t have bought it!” you shout, and usually his steaming glare would burn holes through you and you’d crumble, but it wasn’t working this time. “[y/n], sweetheart,” he grits. “think about what they’ll say about you! cover the fuck up, you’re not going out like that with your tits out and your ass on display.” he points, and you groan.

to spite him, you grab a shrug cardigan, luckily it paired well with your dress but it only covered your back and arms, acting as just a long sleeve. “better? fucking better?” you put your hands on your hips once you reach the bottom of the stairs. he sighs hard, pinching the bridge of his nose, to be fair, it was what he wanted. he wanted you to cover up, right?

“get in the fucking car.” he points, and you push past him, slamming the door and car door once you step in. and again, you’re arguing all the way to his shop. you loved the scene and the band as much as him, so you knew what he was doing when you two arrive and he tells you, “get in there, sit in the fucking den, and don’t move. ok? don’t let me find you up there.” hes all in your face, and you scoff. “you’re so fucking unbelievable!” you push him away and storm into the shop, and exactly what øystein was afraid of takes down.

eyes are on you the second you step in. you feel them, trailing up your body as your heels click clack click clack through the shop, boobs bouncing as you move angrily past the party goers and down to the den. you hear a few whistles and comments before øysteins shutting it down, some not so empty threats and curses leaving him before he resumes the party.

you groan as you plop down onto the couch, arms crossed and a stuck face, tension basically radiating off you like cartoon stench. the den isn’t so empty, a few people down here on their own, making out, trying to subtly touch each other like they were sneaky.

varg glanced at euronymous before walking downstairs, joining you. “what’s with the atitude?” he asks, and you almost want to scream at him. actually, you don’t hate varg. you don’t not not like him. but you don’t like him because øystein tells you not to. øystein hated varg, and he hated when he was even breathing near you, you never knew why. he was never mean to you, he was as decent as a human can be.

“fucking..øystein made me sit down here because of my dress. so stupid.” you grumble. he looks over you, trailing up your glistening legs, past the way the dress hugged your curves and to your still stuck face, “what’s wrong with it? you look good,” he says, and your anger makes you look past the tone he was insinuating.

“I know! and he was there when we got, hell, he paid for it, so I dunno what the problem is. but he told me to sit down here, so.” you shrug. “well it’s not that bad down here,” he shrugs, and you give him a look before nodding over to the couple perched against the wall who we’re definitely grinding off against each other. “ok it’s-it’s a little bad,” he says, and it makes you giggle.

“lemme get you a drink, maybe turn that frown upside down, yeah?” he nudges your arm, and you roll your eyes with a small smile, nodding. he gets up and re-emerges upstairs, excitement coursing through him. he had been waiting for a moment like this. øystein knew what type of guy varg was, no matter how much of a pussy he actually was. he knew his intentions with you, it’s what anyone would’ve wanted, you’re gorgeous.

and on top of that, you’re his girl. you’re the euronymous’ girlfriend. taking you down would give varg a boost he’d never acquire in his life, no many how many groupie hoes he fucked. he knew what he was doing, he knew why you were down there, he heard what øystein said to you before you two came in, he had a plan the second he saw your angry face shove past people and downstairs.

so you two sat downstairs, your cardigan long discarded as you sip beer with him, laughing together at the display of losers around you. from upstairs, euronymous goes in with the party, drink in his hand and conversing with friends about his joyous accomplishments. all of a sudden, his stomach turns completely, the feeling of throwing up overtaking him, his mouth salivating. for some odd reason he got a gut feeling to check up on you. he hasn’t seen you at all, and though he knew you wouldn’t cross him or make a scene even with your rebellious spirit, he also hadn’t seen varg either, and that was saying something, considering he doesn’t drink and he’s usually at øysteins side at these things, leeching off the spotlight.

so he excused himself rather abruptly and heads downstairs, and anger lights him up from his toes to the folicules on his head, he saw you and realized your cardigan was off. no, he saw varg trailing his hand up your thigh as you look up at him tell some story. though you were uncomfortable with the advance towards you, you didn’t think anything of it really. but øystein couldn’t read your mind, and with the alcohol in his system he didn’t really care.

your eyes widen when you see him storming over, and before you can adjust he’s pulling you out of your seat roughly, your drink falling to the floor as he holds your arm with a bruising grip, holding you up to your shoulder. you let out a small ow, øystein! but his voice overpowers yours as he spits, “the fuck are you doing? the fuck are you doing?!” his free hand points to varg who has a small smirk on his face as he stays at his seat.

“she looked sad, so I was just keepin’ her company. calm down.” he says nonchalantly, but it only makes euronymous angrier. “you stay away from her, you hear? I fuckin told you about that, and if I see you round’ her again i’m gonna blow your fuckin head open,” he points, and it’s the last thing he says before he’s dragging you past people and upstairs. “what’s your problem??” you huff, but he doesn’t give you an answer before he’s pushing you into his office, slamming his door and locking it behind himself.

“are you serious? are you actually serious right now [y/n]?!” he shouts, and luckily the music is loud enough so no one would hear him. “what are you talking about??” you cross your arms as he turns on a lamp. “varg?? the fuck are you doing down there with him??” he throws down his jacket, and you see his flexing biceps and his balled fists.

“I was fucking alone! he was being nice and keeping me company, whatd you want me to do??” you stomp. “keeping you company with his hand up your dress? d’you think i’m stupid??” he scoffs, throwing his arms in front of him. “oh my god, you’re overreacting! I was bored and he was being nice! nicer than you’ve been all fucking night.” you say, backing up to the desk behind you. you cross your arms around your chest, you feel yourself shrinking under him. you knew he’d never hit you, but the way his voice boomed when he got angry like this always scared you.

“nice, [y/n]? nice.” he deadpans, nodding as he steps closer to you, and you look to the floor to the side. “you think a guy like varg would be nice to you? no listen, look at me,” he grabs your chin to make you look at him. “ask yourself, do you really think varg was being nice? like he didn’t have a fucking motive?” hes burning holes into you, and you almost want to cry. you remember how he told you you looked good, and how his eyes flickered from you to your boobs as his hand moves up your leg.

“it wasn’t like that.” you pout, and he grits his teeth together as he sighs through his nose. “you’re a smart girl, [y/n].” his words are harsh yet soft as you look into his eyes. “what do you think he wants? what any guy here would want from you, you’re a fucking gem, you know that. you know that. you want nice? do you wanna know what nice looks like from a guy like him?” he tilts his head, and before you can respond he pulls your dress and your underwear down, lodging his fingers into your hot cunt.

you gasp and choke, a hand on his chest for distance as your legs step apart at the intrusion, eyes big on his as your mouth hangs open in shock, but his face is deadpanned, staring you down as you squirm under his grip. “øystein!” you shriek, your fingers feeling like jelly as you try and push at his wrist, but he’s digging into you fast, fucking his fingers into you. “this is what you want? huh?” he furrows his brows, and you’re whimpering at the stretch of his fingers.

“this is what nice guys like him do to pretty things like you. I know him baby, I fucking know him. he doesn’t wanna be your friend, he wants this pussy.” he spits, and you choke when he grabs your throat. “ack-øystein-” “after gigs, he takes whatever bitch he wants and he treats them like this, does this feel good? you wanna be onea those girls??” he watches your eyes tear up as they roll back, you’re stuttering as you try and plead once more, but he’s massaging your sweet spot, making you all gooey and stupid.

even in his angry state he’s praising you, his cock hard as he listens to your strained moans. “fucking gorgeous, he’d defile you. he’d talk you up, take you home and treat you like some 99¢ hooker. do you want that? is that what you want?” he lets you go, havin you gasp for air as you push at his forearm. “øystein, m’sorry, baby m’sorry just-just slow down,” you whimper, laying your head against his chest to try use your body weight to slow him down, but all it did was make him go harder, a pained moan coming from you as you grab at his biceps.

“nono I don’t think you get it, I don’t think you know what you’re getting into so lemme teach you, lemme teach you baby.” he tells you, and you feel his knuckles against your stomach as he unbuckles his belt. “he wouldn’t even think about being as nice as i’m being princess, you know that? you think this is too much?” he pulls out of you, and you manage to get your shaky hands on the desk.

you watch him stroke his cock through his boxers, eyeing his v-line that peaked under his cropped top before you caught his eyes that still stared down at you angrily, jaw clenched and everything. “øystein i’m sorry,” you sniffle, rubbing your legs together. “m’sorry, I-I won’t talk to him again, I don’t wanna be those girls, promise. I promise,” you squeak as he steps closer, he doesn’t even have to try as he turns you around, his lips grazing your cheek as whispers, “I know baby, I know you won’t, because you’re a good girl, my good girl. but I gotta teach you, ok? gotta show you what guys like him really look like on the inside,” he says, and you gasp when you feel his tip sliding in you, and just as you scream out at the stretch of his thick, long cock bullying itself into you he slaps a hand over your mouth, pushing your head back slightly as you grab onto the desk.

you drool against his hand as he leans you over onto the desk, whimpering and gasping as you already feel him fucking into you, his length stretching you open. his hand runs up your back as he lets go of your mouth, cradling your head and laying you down on the desk smoothly. “ronymous’,” you gasp, “ronymous wait, fuck it’s-fuck,” you moan, drooling against a stack of papers as you ball your fist against the desk.

“I know baby,” he speeds up, and you let out a guttural moan, keeping your back arched as you squirm in your tiny heels, toes bunching together at the rush of the sensation and urgency his cock was giving you. “he wouldn’t take it east on you, know that? he’d be harder, and meaner, because that’s what ‘nice guys’ want in the end,” he pants, cheeks reddening as he closes his eyes, pleasure overtaking him as he takes in your tight pussy.

“wouldn’t even let you relax, would just fuck you,” he punctuates his thrust harshly, making you jump and choke out a loud high moan, tears filling your eyes once again, “like this,” he pants and does it again, continuing his rythem of fucking you like a toy with no remorse to, because that’s what he thought-he knew varg would do to you.

“øystein fuck!” you cry out, it’s too much to handle, you’re not used to him fucking you either such vigor. “I know sugar,” he sounds pained, hurt by your cries, but in all honesty it’s turning it on. if he was being honest, he was almost to the edge. “just take it, ok? gotta teach you,” he holds down your wrist and stops you from moving your top half completely, his other hand heavy on your back as you move the desk with every deep thrust, groaning above you as you continue to clench down on his cock for dear life.

your head was foggy, a new sort of heat erupting from your pussy as he pinned into you like some..fleshlight. sure, it would’ve been terrible with anyone else, but your boyfriend..god.. he grabs onto the back of your neck, other hand tightening around your wrist as he slams into you, and it has you crumbling, a short and whiney “ohh my goddd,” coming from you as your brows raise and your eyes squeeze together, mouth falling open with loud and airy moans, and by god anyone who came a foot within the door could’ve heard the mess he was making of you.

“fuck baby, can’t let anyone have this pussy,” øystein says aloud as he watched himself bully his dick into you, the recoils of your ass against his pelvis driving him wild, not to mention the stickiness of your cunt could be seen connecting with his cock with each time he drew his dick out, you’re so wet. “dyou understand? huh? answer me,” he pulls you up by the back of your neck and leans over to meet your eyes as you look to the side at him, drool hanging off your lip as your low, foggy eyes meet his.

“you understand now baby? why I do what I do, why I say what I say? lot of bad men out there, and they can’t fuckin have you. they can’t fuckin have you, because you’re mine, right? you’re all mine, right?” he nods, and you nod back, a loud, sobbing moan escaping from you, tears littering your face and the desk, and fuck he’s bout to blow at the sight of you. “yes, fuck yes øystein,” you sob before letting out another shaky gasp, brows raising again as you try and open your eyes.

“fuck i’m gonna cum, gonna cum baby i’m sorry,” you cry out, gripping your own fist. “s’ok, you earned it. did so fucking good,” he pants before he leans up, and this is why you love øystein. why you’re obsessed with him. no matter how angry, how into it he is you always cum first, hell edge himself just to make you cum, even if it was your 3 time. he always rewards you, he can’t resist you. why wouldn’t he give his girl, his sweet thing a treat.

he pulls out and hold you to his chest, shoving all the paper off his desk before he lays you on your back and slides back in, and your legs are shaking on the side as you wrap your arm around him and hold him close, his head buried in the side of your head as he grips the ledge of the desk, going back to pounding into you. “got myself a good girl? yeah baby?” he says in your ear, your back arching to his chest as your mouth hangs open with silent moans, “uh huh,” is all he receives, and he takes it because he knows you’re on the wave of your orgasm.

“yeah I do, got a good fuckin girl yes I do,” he whispers desperately, and you squeak his name as you wrap your legs around his waist, grounding yourself as your orgasm washes over you hard, your ears ringing with the music as you coat his cock, and he smiles, hearing your small coming down moans tying in with the wetness of his his soaked thighs hitting yours. he doesn’t give you a warning when he cums in you shortly after no, you just hear his groan and weight press against you as warmth fills you and trickled down your pussy, making you shiver.

you stay like that for a second, arms wrapped around each as you pant, sweaty bodies sticking together until he lifts up, taking in your beautiful face and disheveled body. “you feelin ok sugar?” his voice is low as he brushes hair off your face, watching you nod. he gives you a gentle kiss, and your shaky hand comes up to cradle his face. “I love you,” he says in your mouth. “love you so much, love you so much.” he says, and you smiles in the kiss.

“love you too, won’t..won’t talk to him ever again. ever, don’t wanna be onea those girl, never ever,” you pant, and he chuckles breathily. “I know you don’t, because you’re my girl, just my girl,” he nods and gets up, rubbing your thigh as he pulls out of your wet, warm cunt, the loss feeling making him whine as his cock hits against his thigh before it softens up.

he lifts you into his arm and carries you to the futon, grabbing a random napkin and cleaning you up as you already feel yourself getting sleepy, holding yourself. he pulls your panties up and your dress down, and gets you a blanket, covering you nicely. you expect a kiss, but confusion takes over you as he gets up and closes the door behind him. you wanna cry, did he really leave me like that? was he still mad? you think to yourself with a pouty frown, raising up on your elbow as you look at the door.

but your sadness subsided when he comes back with a snack and a water bottle, kicking the door shut. “whaswrong’?” he asks, seeing you pouty lip. “thought you left me,” he hands you the water bottle and peels your snack out the wrapper. “of course not, well, I am gonna go back to the party, but i’m not leaving. lay down n sleep, ok? i’ll be right out there, and i’ll come get you when it’s time to leave.” he gives you a little kiss and a rub on the back, making you smile ditzily.

“love you.” you watch him get up, “I love you too, go to sleep mama, ok?” is all he says before leaving out, and it’s all you hear before you do crash out.

ok that's soo much better!! also sorry I had to end it on a sweet note, I can't do angst, he's just too simpy for me :3. I hope you enjoyed and thank u sm again anon for being so patient! i'm trying to get better at answering requests faster.

also i've been seeing like emoji anons and if anyone would like that i'd be happy to do so! just ask with whatever emoji you'd like! okbyee :3

join my taglist! @angelsanarchy @sugarinte @monkeyfart @444rockstargf @bambi-horror @auggiethecreator @wonkinoo @auryyz @brithedemonspawn @electra-nevermind

[sanjisblackasswife]

Breaking Up with Luffy (ANGST)

Word Count: 2.0k

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Cursing, Yelling, Luffy Calls You Out on Your BS, Reader is a bit over dramatic and annoying, Boa, very bittersweet ending

How dense Luffy can be can really be exhausting

He was too trusting for his own good and though you once admired you now have grown to be annoyed with it

Maybe it was your fault

Maybe you were over reacting, but really? He couldn’t even take your side ?

But IT WAS BOA. You hated her! And Luffy knew this.

Luffy was also very emotionally intelligent, it was impressive how quick he can notice how you can feel, but that didn’t mask how dense he can be handling your emotions.

Boa was once again back and with Luffy, they were on the furthest part of the deck speaking. It’s been a week and for some reason she was still here. She claims it was to “check up on Luffy”, but for what? Y’all JUST reunited a few weeks ago and Boa has been back and fourth coming and going on the ship as she pleases and it began to irk you.

Everybody knew about her obsession with your captain except your own damn captain. The way her touched lingered, the way she blushed when talking to him, the way she would do pretty much anything for him.

It. Irked. You.

She was aware of your relationship with Luffy, which was why you both have had a few heated arguments before. The last one resulting in you nearly drawing your gun at her. It was embarrassing on your end because you never was the type to fight over a man, but this man in particular doesn’t understand when a woman that isn’t his is blatantly flirting and touching all on him and how much it eats up at you.

And everybody is aware of this. So much so that everybody purposely tries to occupy you from seeing the two today to keep things cordial.

“Are you tryna distract me?” Your tone slightly above a tease crossing your arms at Sanji Would was being more than overbearing to keep you in the kitchen with him.

“What?! No I could never! Just keep reading in here, Y/N-San!” He had a cold sweat immediately seeing Boa and Luffy now outside the door giggling and eating together. She brought him a bunch of food as another one of her “gifts” and at that very moment Luffy was tone deaf to everything in sight. Sanji noticed the beautiful woman inch closer and closer their shirtless captain and an instant chill ran down his spine on the possibility of what you’d do.

You shrugged, somewhat naive to what’s happening, you continued to finish your book, giving Sanji a sigh of relief back to his stove. The background noise of the kitchen eventually became tuned out while diving deep into your book. All was well until—-

“OH LUFFY I LOVE YOU!”

It felt like time froze, hearing that unbearable voice, you knew exactly who it was.

“SHE’S HERE AGAIN!?”

You slam your book on the table leaving it behind as you storm out. When you came outside your eyes were met with the same bullshit sight that always led you and Bo to fight

Her breasts smothering Luffy’s face and him not paying any kind to it.

“Oh Luffy! I— oh. MMPH.” Once again . Boa was being too touchy for your liking and it made your eye twitch. Her snarky attitude towards you and you only made you unreasonably upset. The way she’d sometimes purposely touch and cope a feel of Luffy in front of you just for Luffy to laugh at the situation and think you both actually don’t have beef with each other .

“Oh hey Y/N!” Luffy pulled from Boa’s grip to run over to you with his typical Happy Hour lucky smile. He didn’t a care in the world seeing you looking so upset but the tall woman now behind him did.

“Oh Luffy it was so amazing seeing you again! I’m so glad you—-“

Boa’s compliments and heart eyes went through one eye and out the other with you considering you kept getting irritated the longer she lingered on the ship. You wasn’t in the mood to argue with her, but that didn’t stop you from pulling Luffy away as she inches closer by reflex as if you were a child not wanting to share your toy.

Boa noticed this and immediately grumbled in irritation.You clearly don’t understand how angry you make this woman. Your boyfriend just pulled into your touch closer as he ate which in turned made her heart sting, but before she had another dramatic fit an idea came to mind.

“Before I go Luffy I just wanted to let you know that if you need anything just send me a call okay? …and my offer still stands with you about our…little agreement. Remember?”

Luffy furrowed his eyebrows a bit humming in thought trying to remember what “agreement” she was offering. She has made so damn many to him involving getting married who knows what this would be?

“Uh…”

“Oh you don’t remember? Before you left your training we had such an unforgettable night and—“

“OOOOOH! Oh yeah no thanks!” Luffy laughs scaring his head, “Yeah no I’m fine I have Y/N for that!”

It was like Boa nearly turned into stone herself , her face was dumbfounded and her heart was stung, as much as she wanted to cry and plead for Luffy to take her up on her “offer” she had to go but promised to be back soon. The moment she left it was almost as if everybody could breathe again and went back to their devices, but you however dwelled in the whole “offer” situation and how Luffy stated he had you for that.

After lunch Luffy and you were on the Sunny doing your daily fishing routine you both typically started doing when you both began dating. It was peaceful and sweet feeling Luffy happily hun and lean on your shoulder, but you just couldn’t relax until your curiosity subsided.

“Lu?”

“Hm? You caught a fish?!” He sat up ready to help pull your fishing rod, but you grab his wrist.

“No! No not that! I just…Um…okay what did Boa mean by ‘offer’?”

“Huh?”

“When she said you guys had an unforgettable night and—“

“Ohh! Oh That!” Luffy laughs and pats your head. “So before I left she accidentally kissed me and th—“

“She what?” You felt your stomach turn a little, sunk really.

“She kissed me! But she apologized so it was an accident ..anyways she said that we should have one night of uh…” Luffy scratched his head trying to think of the word she used. “What’s that word Sanji uses a lot? Starts with a P?”

Your eyes widen in horror on the possible answer he may say,

“PASSION THATS THE WORD!” Luffy chuckles pointing his finger upwards, “a night of passion, I didn’t know what she meant until she said ‘made love’. At the time I still didn’t understand but I remember that’s what you call what we do sometimes so I said no.”

“Luffy i thought you said I was your first kiss.”

“You were!”

“No.” You stood up crossing your arms, “I wasn’t if that stupid bitch kissed you.”

“Woaaahh!” Luffy laughs a little making your eye twitch in annoyance as he gets up, “you mad?”

“No I’m not mad.”

“Yes you are? You only curse when you’re mad.”

“I’m not fucking mad I’m irritated!”

“Same thing.”

“IT’S NOT LUFFY! Why does she keep coming back we don’t need her help anymore we are GOOD!”

Once again you began to nag and complain about Boa and her presence which always made Luffy Just roll his eyes playfully. He never understood why you were always so mad when she was around but after learning that they both had the opportunity to have sex AND she kissed him you now had a better reason to explain.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is y/n it’s just a kiss. Besides we weren’t dating and I wasn’t thinking about you when it happened.” Luffy shrugged it off taking away your rod to finish fishing, “what?”

“Don’t what me?! You let her kiss you?!”

“I wouldn’t say let..she just did it, who cares?”

“I do, Luffy! You said I was your first kiss! When I asked you about you and Boa you said nothing happened you don’t remember?!”

“It’s not a big deal, y/n calm down and sit with me!” he reached out for you to sit on his lap with a bright smile but all you could do was sit there with a gaped mouth.

Your captain wasn’t the best with words, but damn he could have worded it better. The mere thought of Luffy and Boa being so close made your head spin. And you knew. You knew Boa said it Just to get a rise out of you, and she succeeded because you completely ignored Luffy and headed to your room for the rest of the vending leaving him confused for a moment.

You were quiet all dinner. Not even sitting next to Luffy like you usually do and he seemed not to noticed which piled on to the anger you already had.

He was acting as if he didn’t know you were mad at him and it made you mad.

Were you overreacting possibly?

Even if you were you don’t care to listen to reason right now you’re pissed and want to be alone.

“There you are!” Luffy laughs busting in your room in the late evening to see you buried like burritos in your blankets back facing him. “I thought we were ganna take a bath together.”

“Take it yourself.” Your words are mumbled by the covers. Luffy tilts his head confused at your cold tone, he once again shrugs it off to get in the bed with you to hold you but you wiggle out of his grasp making him whine at your attitude.

“Y/NNNN COMMONNNN IM COLD!” He snatches the blanket off , your warm body now shivering in the cold.

“Luffy for fucks sake—“

“You cussed again. You’re mad—“

“I’m not fucking mad Luffy can’t you ever just read the room?! I had other blankets you could use!”

In your mind your really didn’t want to curse Luffy out. He obviously didn’t deserve it but you’ve been alone in your room all day replaying scene with him and Boa in your head and you just could NOT think about it.

Luffy tries to pull your arm to sleep back with him but you instead pull away to put one some sweats.

“Where are you going?! You don’t have watch duty!”

“I’ll be back Luffy.”

“You always walk away when you’re mad .”

“What?!”

“You do. It’s kinda annoying honestly . Just lay back in bed with me—“

“I said I’ll be back Luffy!” You tried to hide the annoyance in your voice but failed miserably. Was he wrong though? You run away from any issues you tend to have with Luffy and he always calls you out on it. It almost felt like you wanted to cry right on the deck out of frustration. You ended up not sleeping I with him that night. He didn’t seem to mind or ask.

Then one night turned into two.

Then three.

Then a month.

It almost became like you both drifted away. Luffy stopped coming in your room to bother you, you both don’t hang out as much, Luffy seemed normal, you also seemed okay, but every once in a while you felt almost as if you both subconsciously broke up.

He watched you from a distance dancing and laughing with Nami and his cheeks warmed ever so slightly. You have been quieter around him, he didn’t seemed to mind it, but maybe he was over thinking.

But he wasn’t, it’s been 4 months and even though you were still with the Strawhats it was almost as if your relationship has diminished. It was no longer the same between you both, no more fun exchanges, no more inside jokes, no more late night food runs. It was all just

Gone.

And you both ignored how it made you both really feel.

[headfullofpresley]

could I request a big daddy Elvis fluff piece?  Perhaps BDE  with a plus size reader, who can relate to his insecurities? she is always there by his side, whenever he needs her most and never lets him put himself down? ❤️

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥

Word count: 1,5K

Warnings: angst(ish), elvis being insecure, use of the word 'fat', strong language, fluff.

A/N: this is more focused on elvis rather than the aspect of reader being plus size- it's almost 4 am, forgive me. 🙆🏼‍♀️

masterlist

Laying on your stomach on Elvis’ bed, you were flipping through the channels on the television set- as always, indecisive about what to watch.

Seeing as it was nearing two in the morning, there wasn’t much interesting to see other than re-runs of shows that you simply did not care about or the news going on a loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. Throwing the remote on the bed next to you, you decided on a random comedy show but you weren’t focused on it at all.

Instead, you focused on the sound of the shower running in the ensuite.

Elvis’ showers usually lasted twenty to thirty minutes. If he came out in that exact time frame, you knew he was fine. If he did not, you’d always go in to check.

After he slipped one time and suffered a concussion due to hitting his head on the edge of the bath tub, you became a little paranoid. He’d allowed you to join him in the shower most of the time and although you two were extremely close, you could understand when he told you he didn’t want you babysitting him in the bathroom every time- he still needed his privacy as well.

Hence, why you started timing his showers.

 

As exactly thirty minuted passed, you heard the shower turning off and him shuffling around, picking up and putting down some products from the sink. You heard the quick spray of his aftershave, but then silence.

“Elvis?” you called out, a soft hint of panic lingering in your voice.

No answer.

You didn’t even hesitate as you got up from the bed and walked toward the ensuite, entering without knocking- he was startled by your entrance just as much as you were surprised to see him standing there in front of the mirror, butt naked.

“I’m okay, baby,” he assured you with a soft smile, grabbing the towel he had throw onto the counter to wrap it around his waist again. You could see in the way he absentmindedly reorganised some hair products around and hear by the soft tone of his voice that he wasn’t okay.

“What’s going on, El?” you questioned carefully, aware that if he was in a mood, it would be best to let him have his alone time. But it didn’t feel like that this time- he had his moments where he could be completely unreasonable, but you could tell the differences between those moments and those where something was really bothering him.

He shrugged a little, shaking his head as he grabbed his tooth brush, running it under the tap before squirting some tooth paste on it. “Nothin’, baby, really- go to bed, I’ll be out in a minute,”

He should’ve known that you saw right through him every damn time. As he started brushing his teeth, avoiding to look into the mirror, you crossed your arms and leaned against the counter. He felt your eyes burning on him, and he hated the feeling.

“You’re really good at fooling other people when you tell them everything’s fine, but not me. I know you longer than today,” you reminded him, reaching your hand out to place it on his shoulder.

You could feel him tensing up a little and you frowned, thinking his reason for acting like he did was because of something you did, because of you- as he looked at you and you saw the sorrow in his eyes, you realised that wasn’t the case.

You’d seen that look before.

This wasn’t about you, nor about your relationship or something you had said. This was about him, and more specifically, his body.

 

“I’m jus’ not feelin’ good in my skin tonight,” he admitted as he spat out the tooth paste and rinsed his mouth, wiping his mouth with a smaller towel he took out of a cabinet.

“Did someone say anything?” you asked as you frowned- ready to fight anyone who opened their mouths to speak ill of Elvis. But he shook his head, smiling softly as he leaned forward to peck your lips.

As he walked out of the bathroom, you followed him and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching him drop his towel to step into a pair of clean underwear. “Nobody but myself- I’m just so fuckin’… fat,”

“Elvis!” you called his name sternly, jumping up from the bed immediately to walk over to him. You sounded a little like a mother scolding her child, but you didn’t care. You hated whenever he talked about himself like this, he knew you did, and although he was always happy that you were there to shush the demons in his head, he couldn’t help it sometimes.

There were moments he could barely look at himself in the mirror and tonight had been one of those nights. His brain was working overtime- questioning everything. Questioning why you were with him in his current state, questioning why he even still had people that came to his shows, questioning why he looked like he did.

If there was anyone who knew exactly how that felt, it was you. Not living up to the basic beauty standards yourself, you felt insecure at times as well as hyper focused on the way you’d walk, stand and sit. It was an exhausting routine but ever since you got into a relationship with Elvis, you became more comfortable with your body and he was actually a big reason as to why you loved yourself a little more every day.

He’d always tell you how beautiful you were, perfect even. And you always made sure to do the same to him- because to you, he was gorgeous. You didn’t care that he didn’t have a swimmer’s bod or that his face was a little more full than a few years ago.

You loved him for him. His body was only the vessel that housed his beautiful soul, and you accepted everything about him the same way he did every little thing about you.

 

“Look at me,” you told him, giving him no choice as you gently cupped his face and made him look at you. He sighed softly, trying to avoid eye contact until he realised it was no use because he wasn’t winning this time. “Who cares that you don’t look the same way you did when you were 18 or 21? Wouldn’t the world be the dullest place ever if we all looked the same?”

He gently grabbed your wrists, his thumbs rubbing against your skin repeatedly as you moved your hands down to place them at the side of his neck.

“It’s okay to have off days, it’s okay to look in the mirror and not like what you see sometimes, but don’t let it completely drag you down,” you whispered, smiling softly as his eyes met yours. “You’re not fat, babe, you’re beautiful- people will always have their opinions ready, but who gives a fuck? You got me, and you got the fans, and we love you for you- no matter what the number on the scale says,”

“I give a fuck,” he mumbled, placing his hands on top of yours on the side of his neck to entertwine your fingers together. He avoided eye contact by looking down at nothing in particular. “You deserve better- you’re gorgeous and deserve some fucker that doesn’t have a belly sittin’ in the way,”

You scoffed, which made his eyes find yours again, and you shook your head a little. “Oh Elvis, now you’re just talking crazy,” you blurted out. “I don’t want anyone else but you and in case you didn’t know yet, I love your belly,”

He looked down at you, trying to stop your hands from wiggling out of his which was another battle he was losing; you wrapped your arms around his waist and raised yourself on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

“And you know something else?”

He playfully squinted his eyes at you as his arms snaked around your shoulders to keep you close against him. Although he still felt a little insecure, you could see he was loosening up again- your words and just having you close to him always made him calm down.

Made him come back to reality and think about what really mattered, the important things in life- which was you.

“Hmm?”

You grinned as you squeezed him firmly in your embrace. “Skinny guys are terrible huggers,”

Elvis couldn’t hold back a laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“What about lovers?”

You scrunched your nose, shaking your head theatrically. “Even worse!”

 

Elvis knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d cave in to his insecurities, but knowing you’d always be there to lift him back up was reassuring to him. The roles had been reversed plenty of times before too, with you not even wanting to leave the house because you did not want anyone to see you, but he’d be damned if he would allow his lady to talk herself down.

The fact that you never allowed him to put himself down either made him only love you more.

Taglist: @breadsquash @feverkitten @woundmetender @returntoelvis @prayerstopresley @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @wonka-gifs @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @savedrebelcreation @dollksj @webbedwebs @re3kin @wivette @elvisabutler

[josephquinnswhore]

Baby Blues

Pairing: Frankie Morales x female reader.

Summary: Frankie comes home late to find you struggling and wants to make it up to you.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: postpartum depression. completely self indulgent.

It felt irrational, the resentment you felt for Frankie, his freedom to be able to just leave the house whenever he wanted, catch up with his friends and have a night away from the never ending duties you were overwhelmed with.

Realistically 3 hours wasn’t a long time, especially for Frankie, when he met up with the guys he was normally gone a lot longer, you would’ve felt grateful if you weren’t so tired and withdrawn. Unfortunately for Frankie you weren’t in the mood for anything to do with him when he got home. Everything he did annoyed you; the way he closed the door, kicked his boots off and stumbled in the darkness into the table that made a horrible screeching noise across the wooden floor. Your baby had been crying on and off for a few hours, constantly wanting to be held, nursed and rocked, long story short you were fucking exhausted. You needed help, you had rang Frankie a few times and left a voice message which he never replied to, typically.

When he walked behind you to try and slide his arms around your waist you snapped, angry tears falling down your cheeks, rage consuming you faster than a forest fire, your fussy baby wailing at your sudden movement. You groaned in frustration and gave Frankie a stern look through your tears, his face and the room illuminated a light yellow hue from your babies nightlight. You didn’t miss the frown that wrinkles his face as you pull away from him, confused by the tears and rejection.

“Let me take him baby.” In your unreasonable state, you scoff, rolling your eyes as you away gently to rock the baby back to sleep. “Don’t bother Frankie, I got it, like always. I don’t need your help.” You couldn’t ignore the way your heartstrings were stretched out at the way Frankie’s face dropped, a sadness that etched onto his face made you feel a pang of guilt in your chest.

“Is this because I went out? Baby I asked, I made sure before I left that it was okay.” You set your baby down in his bassinet, patting his bum a few times before tuning on his nighttime music, the sweet lullaby caused your own eyelids to droop as you exit the room, shutting the door. “It’s not that you left, frankie! You didn’t pick up the phone, I rang and left messages. I needed you and you just, weren’t there.”

Frankie took two steps forward and stretched his arms around your neck, pulling you into him and his warmth, his fleece flannel was soft on your skin, hot tears wetting the material. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby.” His hands are running up and down your back, tracing mindless shapes in hopes to calm you down from your overwhelmed state. “Go to bed baby, I’ll take it from here.” You bit your lip and shake your head no, feeling guilty for snapping at him. “I’m sorry for getting so mad I just-“ frankie presses a soft kiss to your lips, one that lasts barely seconds but lingers afterwards. “Don’t finish that sentence, you don’t deserve to carry this weight alone, go to bed baby.”

“Okay, I love you.” You mumble tiredly, voice croaking from the breakdown you just endured. You tread to bed and the softness of the mattress swallows you, your limbs ache ceasing once your head hits the pillow, pulling the covers over you as the fan gently whirrs in the background, the cool air on your face lulls you to sleep within the minute.

When you wake up, it’s by your own accord, not from a baby screaming, frankie showering or your alarm blaring, you wake up naturally feeling refreshed and body free from pain, your mind clear and spirit refreshed. You stretch for a few seconds, groaning at how good it feels before walking into your sons room, his bassinet was empty, but it was well made and folded semi-neatly. His pacifier and teddy sitting nicely in the corner.

Down the hall, the living room was spotless, it had been mopped, vacuumed and the appliances had been wiped down, there were two baskets on the lounge, one folded neatly of a mix of your own and Frankie’s clothes, the other being of your sons, smelling like fresh lavender.

The kitchen made you gasp, the dishes were washed and packed away, bottles had been washed, sanitised and prepped. Frankie had even made breakfast, well-brunch, considering the time you read on the microwave reads 11:28am.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You question, voice clear but soft towards him. He smiles as he makes you a plate of your favourite breakfast foods, he’s wearing your baby carrier and your son is propped up with his face against Frankie’s chest. “You deserved it baby, after all you do for us. It was hard..” you sit down across from him at the dining table, waiting for him to continue, “I didn’t realise how hard it was, how much it takes out of you to do all these things. You do them everyday too, you know. I’m sorry I’ve been taking you for granted.” Your son coos in his sleep, the gentle vibration of Frankie’s chest as he speaks comforts the baby.

Your hand reaches over the food to place it on top of Frankie’s, “we have to do this together baby otherwise we won’t make it, it’s too hard for either of us to do alone, can I count on you?” Frankie’s thumb is caressing your hand, dark circles mark his under eyes and his wrinkles more prominent as each minute passes that he’s awake, his hair prodding in every direction from running his hair through it. “I promise you can baby, we’re in this together.” You sigh in relief at Frankie’s confession, glad to see some real progress in him wanting to be more involved in the harder parts of being a parent.

“I love you Frankie. Go get some rest hun, I’ll take him.” Frankie looks at you as he struggles to keep his eyelids from closing, “are you sure?” You huff and roll your eyes playfully, “go before you fall asleep at the table and crush out baby,” you assure, unclipping the carrier from the back and at his waist, cradling your son in your arms, he groans quietly as he readjusts in your arms. Frankie kisses your forehead and heads straight for the lounge, knowing he won’t make it to the bedroom without passing out from exhaustion. You have to give it to him; for his first all nighter he did amazing; it impressed you.

You hoped it would be the first of many. Seeing Frankie be so good at being a dad almost made you want another baby, almost.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

hipsterteller asked:

uh oh Jack is in heat...

Hide your sons, he’s coming 👀 Deuce didn’t hide fast enough

Anonymous asked:

Deuce X Ace in their club wear?

…More likely than you think!

They would look good together, but for now we’re not really interested in drawing them.

I’m pretty sure there are quite a lot of people who’s drawing absolutely beautiful fanart of these two in their club wear as we speak though, so it’s not a big loss.

Anonymous asked:

So you think any of them have almost drooling to see the site of Jack and Deuce in their club wear? I can imagine Ace trying to hide it which made his brother tease him a bit even admit he does have the hots, Epel is envy but admired Jack's body. Vil even blushed to see the sight of Jack.

Yeah, Ace and Epel would definitely be affected by these two: they look way too hot not to give both these idiots instant boners lol Ace would act like such a tsundere though, trying to hide how flustered he is.

And Epel would absolutely envy Jack’s body. He’s so unreasonable, he wouldn’t even look at Deuce whose physique is much easier for him to achieve… I guess Epel just likes big beefy Jack more~

And yeah, Vil also deserved to stare at Jack. Let the queen have her fun.

Anonymous asked:

According to Screaming Halloween, the twins are actually really good with kids and it surprises everyone around lol especially Jamil and Ace because even though Floyd was in a bad mood, he was still sweet with the kids.

Vil's also excellent but that's to be expected.

Yeah I remember that! :) I just figured that having your own kid and humoring one for a short period of time would be different. Floyd’s and Jade’s problem isn’t that they don’t know how to act around kids, it’s that they’re volatile and fickle lol Plus, it was their second NRC Halloween, and who knows how they acted during their first year… Not to mention that these kids were customers, after all.

Vil really was excellent though, that lucky kid got himself an unforgettable experience…

Anonymous asked:

why do you think Leona and Jamil are bottoms?

I really want them to be, I find it hotter this way. I just want to live in the world in which Jamil is a bottom. Wink. Look at his Harveston card, it’s so inviting...

If you want to read more about my reasoning about these things, feel free to read this post, Anon :)

Anonymous asked:

I know you're both typically pretty unrelenting with your Top/Bottom headcanins, but what are your thoughts on switches? I can at least see Ruggie doing a "whatever whoevers paying me wants me to be" and similarly Jade would do any position if he felt he'd get something out of it? Idk, I'm just curious about your thoughts on that kinda stuff.

Sorry, Anon, we really aren’t interested in characters switching, so we don’t event headcanon this type of stuff as“background information”, something that exists but isn’t used in our stories. We don’t like the idea, so we don’t even entertain it.

Ruggie would do anything for the money, that I agree with, but once again: we don’t really have anything to add on this topic.

[lfghughes]

could you write something for luke based on kill bill by sza

a/n: i've now been playing this song on repeat for the past couple of days. hope you like it!

This whole staying friends things had been a horrible idea and you had only agreed to it because it meant Luke would still be in your life. Maybe a part of you naively thought that if you remained in his life that eventually he would want to be together again. Guess you were wrong about that because now he had a new girlfriend. Of course he also was clueless to the way your attitude would shift when she was brought up or was around.

You had remained pretty active in his life, you were still a fan of his and he still invited you to his games. You were also close to a lot of the boys on his team but now you felt like you hung out with the boys more than you did with him because he was spending a lot of his time with his new girlfriend. You knew this anger inside of you was unreasonable and you tried to be mature and push it to the side but you couldn’t.

“I heard Luke is actually coming out tonight.” You heard one of the boys say and your ears perked up. Not that you had known anything because he hadn’t messaged you about coming to meet you all. One of the boys had invited you to this hangout and it was fun but you still missed the good old days. It didn’t take long for Luke to show up, his arm around his girlfriend and you did your very best to not roll your eyes. Be mature, you reminded yourself.

This mature thing sucked. You finally understood the saying ‘if I can’t have him, no one else can’ because that is literally what you were thinking when it came to Luke. Not that you would actually physically say that to either of them but you could sure as heck think it at least. “Hey.” Luke told you as he nudged your shoulder playfully as he sat down next to you, his girlfriend sitting on his other side. “Hey.” You replied, keeping it simple and short as you got up from your seat. You needed something to drink and to be far away from him.

You made your way to the kitchen, leaving all the boys to their video games in their little man cave. Maybe hanging out with them is better when Luke isn’t around if this is how you were going to feel the whole time. You grabbed a cup and looked through the fridge for something good. “So you gonna tell me why the hell you just gave me the cold shoulder like that?” Lukes voice came from behind you and you jumped from the surprise of him being in the room.

“I didn’t, I said hey.” You pointed out as you closed the fridge behind you and turned around to look at him. “Don’t act like that’s your normal hello.” Of course he knew you too well, even if he liked to pretend otherwise both of you had dated for a good chunk of time. “Honest truth?” You asked him, irritated at him, this situation, and everything in between. Forget being mature. “Seeing you with your new girlfriend bothers me and I wish it didn’t but it does so yeah, not really in the mood to talk with either of you.” His jaw fell slightly open like you had caught him off guard.

“Don’t worry, I’m going home anyways this night is lame.” You told him with a shrug. “Come on, you don’t have to do that.” But you weren’t going to stick around not after your confession either. You waved off his words and started towards the door. “Have a good night, Luke.”

[sisterofficerlucychen]

Hi there again 👋🏼 just wanting to vent my feelings again.

This whole break up has me going trough all stages of grief all at once. First I was in complete denial and then just really sad. Now I'M ANGRY. Not to the show or cast, ANGRY AT TIM. As if he had broke up with me and not Lucy.

Been rewatching the show and I just saw the DOD episode and him being all worried about her and I was just screaming at my PC YOUUUU TIM BRADFORD PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER 1 DONT GET TO ACT WORRIED AND HER HERO AND THEN DUMP HER 4 SEASONS LATERRRR

I know i might sound crazy but just went from sad about them to being angry at him in a split of a second with NO REASON AND being COMPLETELY UNREASONABLE

Anyways just looking somewhere to pour my heart and feelings. And a reminder that we all can feel different about this but none of that makes it right to throw hate and say mean things to Eric Melissa or anyone. I m just mad at Tim a fictional man that doesn't exist and not for that im going to say something horrible to Eric (actually if they are making us feel this so much is because they are good ay their jobs)

not hate just peace

hello ♡ pls, go ahead! always here to listen!

no but for real, i feel that in my soul lol. i think this is a place a lot of us currently are — all at different stages and feeling multiple of them at once. but lakfjsdklf mood. i’m starting to wonder if the 3 week hiatus is actually a good thing bc i think we’re all gonna need that time to get to a better place because it really does feel so personal??? 

i commend you for being able to do that 😂 i’ve gotten as far as rewatching 6x06 but there’s something about comfort watching my favorite episodes that i can’t right now, the wound’s too fresh lol. alkfsjdlfa not public enemy number one 😭 i love that you were screaming at your computer though 😂

for what it’s worth, i definitely don’t think so, it sounds very reasonable. i think your reaction rn is so valid like you’re still processing. i know i had a moment where i’ve kind of reached acceptance (i guess?) and saw a really sweet chenford tiktok and fell right back down to denial because i’m still so shocked by it. i also think you’re going about it in a pretty healthy way? like you said you’re upset at the character not the actor which is how it should be, you know what that boundary is.

love the reminder, thanks! and 100%. cast and crew are actual human beings who do not deserve hate thrown their way for doing their jobs and telling a story. it’s okay to be upset, it’s okay to feel everything you need to feel, but taking all of it out on the actual people never will be. you can be critical without being disrespectful. yes on them being good at their jobs! SO GOOD!!!! this is me speaking from personal experience but one of the most gratifying things about performing is getting a response/emotion from your audience bc you’re making them feel something whether it's positive or negative like you know you did something right haha.

[icebear4president]

Author’s note: This is just a little self-indulgent story, because England and America are so fun to write about together.

“Alfred, will you please just unload the dishwasher?”

Alfred barely looked up from his phone at Arthur’s voice, and a small twitch of his lip was the only indication he heard him. He wasn’t ignoring his pseudo-father figure per-say, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to answer him either. While their monthly dinners weren’t anything new, there always seemed to be something one of them would pick a fight about.

And while Alfred tried not to get too irritated with Arthur, he wasn’t about to let the snide remark about his hard-earn space collection slide. Besides, he always cooked the meals, so Arthur can’t complain about being put on dish duty.

“Alfred, you are acting like a child.”

Rolling his eyes, Alfred stuffed his phone into pocket, and leaned on the counter arms crossed. Whatever, if Arthur wanted to annoy him, than he’ll annoy him back. So why not make Arthur extremely uncomfortable with his request. Not that he desperately wanted to hear the words or anything.

“Sure! If you say you’re immensely proud of me, that is.”

Arthur’s excessive scrubbing faltered for a second. “What?”

“If I unload the dishwasher, will you say that you are immensely proud of me?”

“No-why would I do that?”

Alfred grinned at how uncomfortable he was making the other man. Honestly, was it really that hard to answer the question? Apparently he didn’t want help with the dishes as much as he said he did.

“Because I’m America. I always demand payment in some form, and this is what I want. I’ll even unload the dishes first, but after you have to say your immensely proud of me.”

Arthur hesitated, frowning at the soapy water. He just wanted help, was that too much to ask without being subjected to Alfred’s nonsense. “Are you sure you don’t want money or food? Maybe buy one of those gold kiddy coins you like?”

‘Collectible and vintage coins,’ Alfred wanted to say, but bit his tongue and smiled instead. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, “I want you to say you’re proud of me.”

“Why in the world do you suddenly care if I’m proud of you or not, you never did before,” Arthur asked. “Look, I would unload the dishwasher myself, but I’m going to hand wash them first. It’s only fair.”

What was with this guy and dodging answers. Good thing Alfred was just as stubborn as him, as well as persistent. “I demand payment, and this is the payment I want. Come on dude, they’re just words. It’s not like I’m asking for something unreasonable here.”

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache from this whole exchange. “Alfred, if you’re going to unload the dishwasher, than unload the dishwasher. If you don’t want to, than don’t. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Alfred leaned forward, desperate now. He was beginning to think this wasn’t about dishes anymore, not that he’ll think too hard on that. He just wants Arthur to say the words. Hell, even if he didn’t even mean it or if he says it sarcastically he’ll take it.

This was turning out not to be as fun as he thought it was.

“But I WILL unload the dishwasher. I’ll wash the dishes too….you just need to say you’re proud of me. Not even immensely or anything, just that you’re proud of me.”

Wiping his hands, Arthur finally turned to face Alfred. “But what have you done to warrant me to say that? Proud of you for what? Washing the dishes and putting them away? Like every person on this planet does,” he asked, genuinely curious for the answer.

“No, just in general.”

Arthur sighed, returning to his task. This back and forth was tiring him out. “I’m not going to say I’m proud of you for just being here.”

Alfred clutched his chest, feigning hurt. “After all I’ve done to get to this point, and you still aren’t proud? You wound me, what even is the point of life if my big brother can find no good in me,” he said, swooning dramatically. Of course, none of his words meant anything, he didn’t actually care what England or any of the others thought of him after all. Definitely not.

“This again. Why do you get existential and crap when you’re upset?”

“I’m not upset. Why are you getting upset?” Alfred countered. “They’re just words, they don’t actually mean anything. I’ll unload the dishwasher, plus do the dishes if you say them.”

Arthur sighed again, and shook his head. “Evidently they mean something to you. And no, I’m not going to say them. Now, if you’re not going to help, than go do something else productive,” he said, turning his back to Alfred and signaling the conversation to a close.

Alfred stared after him a while, before angrily digging out his phone again. He didn’t care, he shouldn’t care. It was a joke and he admits he pushed it more than he should’ve. Maybe it hurt a little, or maybe a lot, but it was fine. He didn’t need England’s validation, he was a big boy and he would be fine. He would just go watch tv, or cry in his pillow, and forget all about it. “Fine, whatever,” he finally said, with a dismissive wave.

After a few moments, Arthur turned to check that Alfred was gone before he spoke again. “I am proud of you. Immensely. I thought you would have known that already,” he said, voice echoing in the room.