#there's another person involved here; another person that she said makes her happy; that makes time for her; that stays | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

an-idyllic-novelist · 3 months

Text

Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way.

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around.

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you.

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it.

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago.

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others.

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much.

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner. They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk.

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess.

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do.

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day.

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out.

He saw you cook finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands.

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War.

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit.

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day.

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it.

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake whiny bitch.

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that.

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong.

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel.

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them.

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore.

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no.

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle.

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!”

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other.

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army. When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck.

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply.

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around scratching, kicking, and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off him and inhaling deep gulps of precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands.

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting.

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right.

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character.

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked.

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones.

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin.

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?”

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of them, they made quick work with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts.

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too.

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass.

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it.

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards.

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be.

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone.

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest.

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.”

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right. “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering.

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse.

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck.

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit.

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there?

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below, your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places.

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his.

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.”

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special.

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight.

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking.

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight.

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms.

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass.

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome."

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory?

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens.

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter.

Taglist: @riddle-simp @kanroji-san @star-fawn21 @luthefriendlywitch @kameyo-kumo @solesurvivorjen @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @victheauthor @anielly-2010 @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @bones4thecats @mmelionsblog @frompeach @nixie-writes @tired-of-life-86 @trecllllllll @lanxianschoenheit @22carolina08 @justamegafan @the-cat-queen-peasants @oucx @diamondzoey @alyriaschoenheit @lbcreations-blog @alastorsart @nunezs-stuff @sillypenguincats @theunknowntravel3r @imperfectbloodmoon @no1sillybilly @likesugarandcyanide @bladeismine @bones4thecats

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin spoilers #viviziepop #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #cw violence #tw violence #cw cannibalism #tw cannibalism #cw language #tw language #violet evergarden!reader #fem!reader #character!reader

429 notes · View notes

droopywrites · 7 months

Note

did you ever did a part 2 to jjk dudes meeting their child who’s from the future?

⋆｡Part || of JJK MEN meeting their future kids｡⋆

Author's notes: I don't think I've posted it! Considering it kind of left my mind and the old draft is gone, but I did write everything I remember here. Also, it's like 3am and I wrote this crying, not proofread.

CW: Swearing, killing, cannibalism(?) like mention of eating people, children.

Pronouns used for the kids: She/her for Geto and It/its for Sukuna.

Part | (Warning, it's from 2021)

Geto

Starting off strong with Geto.

Definitely another girl. He's such a girl dad.

On a regularly scheduled day like always; it was wake up, talk with his connections, mingle with his family, check on Mimi and Nana, see whatever the hell the non-sorcerers wanted, get greeted by a little girl that wasn't supposed to be on the estate...

What the fuck.

How did she even get here? Why is she here?

Geto would stare at this child in confusion and look around, waiting for someone to claim her.

He has a soft spot for children. Sorcerers, of course. Non-sorcerers, debatable.

So, low and behold this little girl running up to him to clutch at his robes. Him trying to pry her off of him with her relieved cries of "Papa! Papa!" escaping her lips.

Papa?

Holds her by the shirt's scruff like a cat and squints, ready to scold her but pauses when he sees her face.

Because, holy shit, that's literally his twin. And suddenly every rare hookup played in his mind.

But no, she looked no older than 3. He hadn't been with anyone at that time, or ever yet. Not that far.

Drops everything for the next couple of days just to make sense of the situation, only telling his beloved family.

Mimi and Nana fawn over the idea of a little sister but are a bit restrictive if it's not a permanent thing.

The girl didn't speak much except for addressing Geto, the twins, oh and you.

You...?

You.

You, who had just returned from your trip overseas to oversee some tasks involving curses.

You, who the little girl immediately ran to and called "Mama! Mama!"

You, who Geto stared wide-eyed at and surprised as you two tried to settle the fact nothing even happened between you.

Yet.

When that little girl eventually left to her own time, with everything still fresh and confusing, Geto eventually approached you.

Because, well, he wanted to see that little girl again.

After few dates, then a relationship, then marriage. Maybe.

Sukuna

Listen, he is NOT spreading those cursed genes of his pre-human/post-cursed-spirit.

Man hates love.

But, during the Heian period. When some stupid kid wandered into his life as if it always belonged there, maybe, maybe, there was something else in that space in his chest but hunger and his definition of love.

So, there it was. Whatever it was. Standing there with large eyes focused on him with a semblance of admiration and malice.

"What are you looking at, brat?"

"You."

The audacity of this thing. He killed it immediately.

And then it came back. So, he killed it again. And again. And... what the fuck.

This little shit was persistent.

His kid. He doesn't know how. But definitely his kid.

A worthy successor? Fuck no, he's not dying or leaving it as some birthright to a hindrance.

Learning of its origins was pretty interesting, to say the least.

"Not a human? I figured. A curse made from me, huh? Someone weak must hate me so much."

That meant a human parent. Or multiple human parents. Gross.

He wasn't getting into that.

The kid was though.

It often visited this village to... eat? Kill? Fight? Whatever makes it happy.

...

The hell do you mean it was visiting its human mother?

It had a mother? It had a mother that cursed him so much it resulted in a personalized cursed child?

He could see it stare longingly at that woman's village and before he could even kill her, his offspring said goodbye.

"I'll see you in the future, yeah?"

And then Sukuna was sealed.

He probably searched for his offspring in the Modern era.

Author's notes 2: Stopping with these two because it's been a while since I've posted seriously on this account, 2 years? Maybe I've gotten better, maybe not. This was the idea but with updated better minds. Maybe I'll do the others separately again, Yuji, Yuta, Megumi, Toge. Just did the adults first. Doing Choso and Higuruma definitely.

893 notes · View notes

piracytheorist · 6 months

Text

The moment where Twilight decides to take Anya back home and continue Operation Strix as planned is so simple yet so defining of the entire story.

Just minutes ago Twilight became determined to make another plan to approach Desmond, one that wouldn't involve a kid so that they wouldn't get in danger. He was determined to even give Anya's chances a boost by writing a letter for the police to see and put her in a better orphanage.

Yet when Anya runs to him, keeps calling him Papa and insists on going back home, Twilight's resolve breaks. He knows Operation Strix will be a long-term mission with no immediate results, and he knows by the nature of his job and life Anya may get in danger again. But when he sees how she clings to him, reaching for comfort after the terrifying experience of being kidnapped, he remembers what Franky said about her jumping between orphanages and foster families.

And he doesn't want to be yet another person who will abandon her. As much as he tries to tell himself he's detached, that he's only using Anya for the mission, it's pure emotion here that makes him decide to take her back.

It's as simple as him not wanting to let her down like the other foster families did, and he's willing to go the uncertain route of depending on civilians in order to achieve that for Anya. And as simple as it is, it's also character-defining. Anya will cry if he leaves, and she'll be happy if he stays. The fact that he stays for that says a lot about what his entire character is all about and where his true priorities lie. He's going to do his best, he's going to work hard, under difficult and unprecedented conditions and circumstances, all for her. All so she can have a stable environment for as long as the mission lasts, for as long as she's under his care. He doesn't concern himself with what the future may bring; for now, his main motivation is "She wants me here, so I'll be here for her." Hence why he asks her if she's sure she wants to stay with him. The moment she says she wants him, it's decided for him.

Of course, he buries that deep down because he's so good at lying he doesn't even realize when he's lying to himself. But it's an undeniable fact that from that very early moment, he was deeply touched and invested. His true priority, above anything else, is Anya.

#Spy x Family #sxf meta #500

724 notes · View notes

abibliophobiaa · 8 months

Text

Chapter Five: One Bed

summary: you and eddie have to share a bed, and things start to take a new turn. (7k words)

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

——

“Just a warning, these nights get loud,” Chrissy expressed, maneuvering around where you sat near the kitchen island, bouncing Melody on your thigh. “And just think, in a few months we’ll have another little girl here to add to the chaos.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned, already dreading the idea of getting her out once all was said and done. “I miss the days when we thought storks delivered babies to your front step.”

“It’ll be all worth it once she’s here.” Chrissy giggled airily at that, placing bowls of chips around the table, tutting when Melody’s hand reached out to try and grab some. “How are things going with you and Eddie? Living together, sleeping just down the hall from one another…”

“I don’t know what that look is in your eye, but it seems diabolical,” you mused, taking a sip of your water perched on the table beside you. “Him and I are friends.”

“Friends who seem very cozy as of late.”

“We’re living together and…so what if we enjoy the company of one another —” You paused as her lips curled into a devious smirk. “— not in the way you’re thinking. We just spend a lot of time together lately.”

“I think the way he dotes on you is sweet,” she said, reaching her hands out to grab Melody. Hoisted the baby up onto her hip. “You know he talked about you a bunch after Halloween. You must have made a good impression on him.” She sing-songed the latter half, a mischievous little glint in her eye that looked out of place on her sent your way.

Flashes of that night danced across your vision. Those brief introductions at the table. The way you’d spent hours talking and laughing with one another. The moment beneath the awning where you’d almost kissed. Food shopping with him. His fingers on your form as he undressed you, inside you as they drew out your pleasure, mouth hot and fervent against your own. The way he mapped your body later with his lips, how he’d lavished you with his words as he rolled you beneath him that second time, your hands tangled together in bed sheets near your head, eyes locked on yours as his hips rolled into yours.

The night was seared into your brain. Imprinted on your mind. Intimate in a way you’d reeled from, a spark different than anything you’d had with Paul — or anyone for that matter. A complete stranger, and yet something had felt so different that night. So ‘impression’ deemed too insignificant of a word to express what that night signified.

For one, it marked the beginning of something new, now nestled within, just beneath your breast.

“I just think it’s less complicated this way,” you added, glancing down at your midsection. “She’s most important. She needs both of us.”

“And what about what you want?”

“I’ve had enough run-ins with love to know it’s likely not in the cards for me,” you told her sourly.

“What if it’s just a matter of you not having met the right person?” Chrissy asked, placing Melody in her high chair. “You know, before I met Steve, I’d been dating someone else. My parents loved him. On the basketball team, town golden boy, involved in his church and charity. Perfect, by their standards. But what they didn’t know was that we fought — almost every day. He didn’t make me happy; or I thought he did, until I met Steve.”

“You never told me how you met Steve.”

“At a roller rink,” she giggled, glancing over your shoulder to where her husband and the father of your own child were drinking beers together in the living room. “He’d bumped into me. Literally crashed into me. We spent the day with me icing my head and him icing his cheek. But we talked for hours. And he was funny and sweet and charming and I just knew it was him. Right away.”

“That’s — that’s really sweet, Chrissy…”

“How does Eddie make you feel?”

And there it was. The question you’d been avoiding, because it meant admitting to the fact you simply weren’t sure. You knew you liked him, but liking him meant putting yourself in a vulnerable situation.

“We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks —”

“Time doesn’t define the importance of something, silly,” Chrissy said, dropping down onto the chair beside you. “Right now, at this very moment, how does he make you feel?”

You glanced his way. And, like he always seemed to, he had this uncanny way of knowing when you needed him. Ever present, with that seemingly constant glowing smile on his face from over Steve’s shoulder where he sat. A question burned behind his gaze, but you shook your head, and he relaxed back against the couch no longer on alert.

“Good. Heard. Seen. Cared for,” you rattled off, wanting to cover your face with your hands. Wanting to hide from the gnawing fear burning in the back of your mind over the reality of it all. “But it doesn’t matter, because what if we try and it doesn’t work and now Elena has two parents who don’t even like one another, or can’t even stand to be in the same room together?”

Chrissy curled a hand around your shoulder, those bright eyes of hers meeting yours sympathetically. “What if we imagined the reverse? What if none of that happens? You won’t know if you don’t try.”

Another time, another place, another day — those had been the words spiraling in your mind the day you left him back in his hotel room. Another person — someone who would offer him the rose-colored glasses, the giddiness of relationship, the joy of love. He was deserving of so much; the world, really.

“I’m not just saying this because he’s my husband’s best friend,” she started, voice lowering into a quieter whisper, “but he’s a good man. The best of the best. What if you opened up to the idea of…simple like? Not even love.”

What if you opened up to the idea…to simple like? Could it really even be simple? It seemed like such a juxtaposition to your current reality. Yet, the words knocked around in your head all the same, wonder already forming in the catacombs of your mind at the mere possibility.

However, before you could give it any life, the thought was disrupted by the doorbell, to be shelved away for later.

——

The arrival of the fondly named “kids” came with an air of chaos. Friends who traveled from near and far to come visit, all wrapped together in one room. Max and Lucas, on holiday here in Hawkins, now residing in California together.

Will and Mike arrived a little later, holding hands and a package of Oreos that you immediately opened and snacked on, much to their shared amusement.

El, who you had previously met, was visiting her step-brother Jonathan and Nancy in the city — the same woman you’d already contacted, thanks to Eddie’s suggestions, and were now waiting to hear back from.

Their initial reactions to finding out about Eddie being Elena’s father were met with amusing degrees of excitement and many questions — but overall, they were all over the moon for him. It made your chest ache to see him so happy, the way he proudly talked about his daughter before them all, the fondness behind his eyes as he spoke.

You remained at his side through it all, overjoyed to simply be there with them, laughing when they’d dove into a story about a time Steve, Robin and Eddie had taken the kids camping, and Eddie and Steve had the not so brilliant idea of trying to spook them before bed.

“To be fair, we were only fifteen at the time,” Mike explained from beside Will. “Which should really show you what these assholes are capable of —”

“Hey, watch what you’re about to say,” Eddie began, waving a finger in Mike’s face. “That is your mother and father you’re talking about.”

“Who’s mother?” you asked, laughing when Steve pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Steve’s mom,” Robin explained, appearing in the doorway with Vickie. “And your guy over there is dad.”

Neither of you bothered to correct Robin on that comment.

“So maybe we’d told them a little campfire story about bears in the woods before bed,” Steve started, curling his arm tighter around Chrissy’s shoulders. “What’s the problem with that?”

“Well,” Dustin interjected, leaning out of his seat from where he sat next to his soon to be bride. “Here’s the thing — we were on high alert. Started stocking up in case we needed to fight off a bear.”

“Wasn’t our fault Eddie is an idiot and started growling outside of our tent and maybe got sprayed in the eyes with hairspray,” Max said, bursting into loud giggling when Eddie cringed beside you, as if recalling the memory like it had happened moments ago instead of years ago.

“That shit hurts, okay?” Eddie grumbled, and you patted his kneecap teasingly.

“The scream he let out,” Lucas added, and the rest of the group laughed in agreement.

“I do not scream.”

“You do, man,” Steve said solemnly, earning a glare from his best friend. “It was so loud. Thought the police were gonna be called.”

“Sorry,” Eddie began, rolling his eyes, “who was it that used Farrah Fawcett spray in the first place? Because that’s where these little asshole gremlins got it.”

“Hey — it works!” Steve shouted. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“Steve, my friend, I walk out of the shower and my hair looks like this. I don’t need products to enhance what I was naturally blessed with.”

“Bet you’re doubting your decisions to procreate with him now, aren’t you?” Mike joked, flicking his gaze between the two fighting men.

But you only laughed, because you weren’t doubting it at all, but instead thoroughly enjoying yourself. Especially now as Eddie interrupted their stories meant to embarrass him and suggested they maybe start their game before it got too late and they’d have to call it a night.

Eddie on a normal day was…breathtaking, beguiling, intriguing. Different from most you’d ever encountered in all the best ways imaginable. Appreciated for all he was simply because he marched to the beat of his own drum. He loved life and enjoyed it to its fullest. He never once put on airs, tried to be anyone but his fullest self. Had accepted Eddie Munson as Eddie Munson years ago.

You’d known as much from conversations with Steve, Chrissy and Robin over dinner. Eddie’s face bright red in a blush whenever they recounted stories from their younger years. And over the span of several weeks, you’d gotten to know it for yourself as well.

Eddie was Eddie.

Perfectly, wonderfully atypical.

But seeing him like this — in his element, surrounded by his loved ones, weaving a tale that left you enraptured. Left you leaning out of your seat, as if lured by some unseen vision, his words wrapping around your heart. Your mind.

Chrissy grinned to herself at the sight. A little flash of it you’d seen, twisting those pretty pink lips. But you’d chalked it up to the fact Eddie Munson was a natural born storyteller. Inspired by the many books his mother had read to him as a young boy, even now. Even so, what a lovely thing? To be graced with it so intimately like this, to see his inward love so outwardly on display.

Later, after the campaign had wrapped up and everyone left for the evening, you sat beside Eddie in the passenger seat of his car. Regarded his face illuminated by streetlights as you passed them by. Glimmers of dark eyes, full lips, those freckles cheekbones.

Long, torturous moments passed in silence, fueled by Chrissy’s comments and insinuations. Fueled by the questioning of what would happen if only you played the tape deck forward. Would you crash and burn or take to the wind and soar? Would you risk it all for the sake of your own want, or play things safe for the needs of the third party in this increasingly complicated situation?

“Are you —”

“Can we go somewhere, Eddie?”

You’d both spoken at the same time, laughing awkwardly as you’d done so. Rushed utterances of the first things that stumbled into your minds. Eddie’s ringed fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, shifting onto the side of the road with his right blinker.

Once settling the car into park, he shifted in the seat your way, worried lines marking his forehead. “Is everything okay?”

“I just…” What did you want, though, really? “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.” Not quite a lie, and yet not also the full truth as to your whirring thoughts.

“Do you want to go for a walk around our neighborhood?” he suggested, turning the car back on when you’d nodded. “I know you mentioned you were having a hard time a little while back, but I didn’t realize how bad. How long has this been going on?”

“Couple of weeks,” you grumbled out, leaning your head against the window. “Doctor said insomnia is another thrilling side effect of all of this.”

“I’m sorry,” he huffed out, though it was hardly his fault at all and you both knew that, drumming his thumb along the steering wheel. “You could have told me, though. I’d have tried to help you.”

You shrugged, shifting on the seat a bit so you were facing him. Noted the determined line of his lips, his bare arms moving as he steered. “Where are you going? This isn’t the way home.”

“I’m thinking we need dessert for our walk,” he said, the turn signal clicking as you waited to make a left turn into the parking lot. “Chocolate?”

“Mmm Oreo sounds really good right about now.”

“So I have something to ask you and I know it’s kind of out of the blue and last minute and I meant to ask you beforehand but we had Steve’s today and it kind of got pushed to the side.”

“Is this why you’re buttering me up with a milkshake?”

“Maybe.” He said, a little teasing glint in his eyes, the red stop light bathing his skin in the bright glow. “Okay, so, Wayne’s place is getting work done. Something with a burst pipe and he can’t stay there for a couple of days.”

“So you want me to stay with Robin or something —”

“No, no,” he urged with a hand on your forearm. “I just need the guest room for a couple days.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded, considering. “I can sleep on the couch for a few days.”

“What? Sweetheart, no. I’m not — I’m not making my pregnant —” He paused, catching himself, swallowing thickly. “I’m not making you sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah, but I’m not taking your bed,” you argued, “so I guess we’ll have to share.”

The words spilled out in a rushed breath. You’d not even really thought about what you said until the words were already there, out in the open, exposed for the taking.

“I mean, we’re adults,” you continued, shrugging. “We can sleep in the same bed without it being weird.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding evenly, mulling over your words, “that was easy then. You’ll sleep in my bed. With me.”

And that — that had your stomach turning. Twisting in that giddy, roller coaster, butterfly type of way. The way that had your fingers curling around the edges of your seat as Eddie parked the car and rushed into the opened diner to grab the two of you your sugary treats.

He returned as your heart settled back into normal rhythm. Opened your door and thrusted your drink into the air, muttering, ‘For the lady’ with a bow that had your cheeks heating up.

It only took another few minutes to pull up in front of Eddie’s home, your door opening so you could hop out as soon as he’d shifted it into park. Tugging your hoodie tighter to your body, you walked along the sidewalk and waited as he hooked his keys onto his belt loop, locked the car, and joined you beneath the street lamp.

“After you,” he said, practically bouncing on his heels as you began your loop around the neighborhood.

“You know, there are so many stars here than back in the city,” you muttered after a while, pausing with your drink outstretched in hand, head tipped back to take in the sky. “It’s just another thing I don’t really miss about back home. I feel so much more…I don’t know, connected? To myself and those around me. Without all the hustle and bustle.”

“Never thought about that,” he breathed out, hand guiding you closer to him on the sidewalk so you wouldn’t stray too far into the road. “I guess it’s easy to take for granted when I see it all the time.”

“Did you know there are two to four hundred billion stars in just our galaxy alone?” You tilted your head over your shoulder, catching the way the moonlight illuminated Eddie’s features. “And there are something like hundreds of billions of galaxies. Fun things you pick up when you work at a high school library.”

“I did not,” he admitted, lowering his head to take you in. His eyes lingered on your face, on the lines of your lips, and you swallowed the thick knot forming in the back of your throat. “Anything else you learned while at my old high school?”

“The worst lunch days are definitely Wednesday,” you sounded off, sipping your drink, “O’Donnell always has mustard on everything while we have lunch and Elena hates it. Which means I hate it. Uhm, they definitely need a wider selection of novels, and their cataloging system could use some major work. Oh — and the vending machine near the nurse’s office has the best snacks.”

He laughed, a bright, happy sound that had you nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Sounds about right.”

“You know, tonight was actually really fun.” You tipped your drink lid into his chest, smirking slightly. “I saw a different side of you tonight.”

He followed as you trailed onward again, the sound of his shoes pounding against concrete to keep up in your ears. “A good side? Come on now, sweetheart. Can’t leave a guy hanging like that.”

Nose wrinkling, you snorted. “I liked it. You had a very…commanding presence. The kids enjoyed it, too.”

“So she likes commanding —”

“Hey —”

“Kidding, kidding.” Eddie held up a hand in surrender, waving his cup in the air with a big flourish as you halted on the sidewalk in front of him to allow him to catch up. “Honestly, I’ve been doing that for so long, it’s become something I look forward to. Back in high school I’d run the club, and that’s when I ended up meeting the guys. Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will. Took them under my wing a little bit — you know how it is, teenagers are shitty.”

“Teenagers are shitty,” you agreed, sounding a little morose. “I was lucky to have Micah at that point. So it never felt like I was alone. But those years can be isolating. I can’t imagine. I’m sure they were so happy to have you there for them.”

“Yeah, well…they’re now attached to Steve and I. Like our own little band of shithead gremlins. But we love them.”

“I can tell you do,” you said, thinking back to when Max had hugged him goodbye and he’d patted her head. Looked up at him like she’d admired him. “They love you too. The way they talk about you is really sweet.”

“Now they’re all grown up,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Which reminds me…Dustin is getting married in a week and he suggested today that I might ask you to come with me.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye. A nervous little bounce in his step. Noticed that he’d dragged a hair along his lip, trying to hide himself from you.

A knowing smile creeped along your lips. “Like…as your date for the afternoon?”

A date — you could do a single, solitary date with a friend.

He glanced down at his feet, exhaling deeply. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

“I’ll have to buy a dress,” you said quickly, putting the poor man out of his misery, “but I’d love to.”

“Okay.” He nodded, grinning softly to himself. “Ah, awesome. Perfect. Can’t wait.”

You continued like that for a while. Simply walking beside one another, talking about anything and everything beneath the stars. Simply basking in the presence of another person as the moon glowed brightly above.

Eventually, when you’d finished your shakes, you both decided to head back to the house, but neither of you seemed keen to separate for the night.

Eddie spoke with you on your bed, your feet in his lap, his hands rubbing at your sore calves, until you started to doze off against your pillow.

Stayed with you until you finally fell asleep.

——

Wayne was on his way out of the house for the afternoon when you whirled around, Eddie’s apron tied around your waist, your sous chef beside you with his hair pulled back. You’d been working together for an hour now, making penne alla vodka that you couldn’t help but lean over and smell the sauce that was currently simmering in a pot. It should be illegal to smell so good, you thought, hip brushing Eddie’s as you moved around him to grab the shredded cheese.

Tonight was the first night of your arrangement. Sleeping beside Eddie in his bed. Platonically. No funny business to be had by any means. Sure — Wayne would be working the night shift and gone for most of the time you’d be sleeping beside Eddie, but you’d cleaned out the guest room to allow for him to sleep in there, making sure the man knew this was his home as well as yours.

Not that you’d had any say; nor could you quite pinpoint the moment when Eddie’s home had become yours too. Found yourself saying things to him in conversation when out and about from time to time, simple remarks of “let’s go home” and “oh, it’s at our place” and even the night you’d walked under the stars with Eddie, back in the car, when you’d said “this isn’t the way home.”

And even so, here you were, hosting at the place you called home with Eddie.

Weird to think how a few weeks had changed everything. Nearly twenty-three weeks along, and living with Eddie for a little over a month now.

“You two went out of your way to do all of this for me?” Wayne mused, chomping at a piece of garlic bread (that didn’t make you run for the toilet this time, luckily enough), seated across from the two of you when you all finally settled down for dinner. “Didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re going into work,” you said, offering him a grin, “we wanted to make sure you were fed.”

“Thanks little lady. Ed.” He took another bite and picked up his fork, nodding his head your way. “How is my grand baby treatin’ you?”

“Pretty much moving all the time now,” you sighed, Eddie pouring you another glass of water when yours emptied. “Eddie will have to show you her room. He did an amazing job with it.”

“I’d love to,” he agreed, clapping his nephew on the shoulder. “And thanks for letting me stay with you two. Sorry to steal your bed.”

“It’s fine, seriously!” you huffed out with an amused snort, pushing your chair back as you finished up your plate, reaching over to grab Eddie’s as well. “Do you want me to put a pot of coffee on?”

“Nah, this here is fine,” Wayne said, polishing off the rest of his plate and adding it to the plates you began running water over. “I’ll grab some when I get to work. You two have a good night now.”

As Wayne slipped out for the night, you raised the dial on the radio Eddie kept in the kitchen. An older Frank Sinatra song was playing, hands buried deep within the sink, when he’d sidled up to you and began drying the dishes you laid into the drying rack.

You hadn’t even asked him to, but it had become a routine of sorts as of late. These little things he’d do, if only to spend a little extra time with you. That foot rub last night as you watched a movie; the lingering hug in the doorway last night before bed; helping you fold laundry on laundry days; the delighted way he’d rubbed the knots out of your shoulder after work simply because he said you deserved it.

You worked in comfortable silence. Each time you finished a dish, you handed it over to Eddie, and he placed them in their proper storage places. It wasn’t long before you’d finished, and the music still played between the two of you, a soft and gentle tune that had you humming to yourself.

Neither spoke as you shut the light after leaving the kitchen. Nor as he offered you the bathroom to change, and you slipped inside the small, dimly lit room with a shaky exhale. Hands rested against your lower back, feet carrying you back and forth along the carpet, eyes catching on your reflection in the mirror.

This was stupid — wasn’t it? He’d seen you fully bare before him before, and he’d enjoyed what he’d seen. And yet, the prospect of slipping into a pair of sleep shorts and a tee shirt had your heart racing. With shaky fingers, you reached down and plucked your sweater up and off your body, pausing at the sight of your form reflected back at you.

He’d liked you before. But you wondered what he thought when he saw you now, every day feeling a little less like yourself, body a home to someone else as of late. Then again, it didn’t matter, you reminded yourself. Just because you’d developed feelings for the metalhead didn’t mean he’d felt the same.

With a deep sigh, you snatched the Corroded Coffin tee you’d plucked from your dresser and pulled it over your head, and then reached down to tug on some pale sleep shorts. Once satisfied, you finished up your normal bedtime routine and slipped back down the hall, knocking on Eddie’s bedroom door for entry.

“Come in,” he called out, and your eyes immediately zeroed in on the bare chest that greeted you near his bedside table.

He was tucking away a pair of his socks into the drawer, head turning over his shoulder, eyes widening at your appearance. You mentally cursed, feeling self conscious.

“What are you wearing?”

“A shirt,” you groaned, rushing over to your designated side of the bed, wanting to get the night over and done with.

“Why do you sound upset?” he asked, dropping down onto the bed behind you, palm coming up to curl around your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. “What did I say, sweetheart? I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”

He grimaced as you shoved a pillow over your head. “You just looked at me funny. I know I don’t look the way I did the night we hooked up —”

“Hey hey hey, breathe.” You groaned into your pillow, the sound muffled by Eddie’s laughter. “I looked at you ‘funny’ because there’s a ridiculously pretty woman wearing a shirt with my band’s name on it, who happens to also now be laying in my bed, okay? And remember what I said that night? You’re out of my league — that’s still true now.” He paused, feeling your shoulders relax a bit at his light hearted, if a little self deprecating, joke. “Come on, Buttercup, look at me for a second, okay?”

You rolled over in the bed, pillow falling with it, and he lowered himself down onto an elbow, running a constant and comforting line across your bicep. “Looking.”

“Just — you’re wearing that,” he repeated, toying with the hem of the shirt to stretch the logo across your chest. “The matter of my attraction to you has never changed, if anything it’s…grown because I don’t think you realize what it does to a man when he looks at the woman carrying his child, and now that same woman is laying in his bed.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out, cheeks heating rapidly. “Okay.”

“Yeah — oh, sweetheart. Wanted to make that clear, so there’s no confusion here.”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, tops of his cheeks flaming red, moving over to his bathroom. Pleasure swooped low in your belly — curled, tumbled and spread it as you caught him adjusting himself in his pants on the way.

——

“Nancy sent in one of my children’s books,” you said, crawling into bed on the second night, tugging the blankets up and over your shoulders. Eddie slid in beside you, head resting on the pillow, hair spilling in a halo around him. “She said it was really good. She thinks I should hear back soon hopefully.”

“It is really good,” he reassured, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “I wish you could see that. I’m so damn proud of you.”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, shuffling closer to him. “My ex, Paul, kind of — well, he didn’t think writing was something one could turn into a career. Kind of discouraged it, which is why I’d put it on the back burner for a while. It’s hard to think that it could ever turn into anything. Or it was…until I found out I was pregnant. And suddenly everything changed. I want to do the best for her, be the best for her.”

He thumbed along your bicep, offering you a soft smile as you continued, “One of the things I admire about you is how you’re just…unabashedly you. There’s only one Eddie Munson and he’s just who he is and you’re literally watching your dreams come true. It’s made me realize it can happen for me too.”

“First of all, your ex is an idiot for not encouraging your dreams. I hate how society says if it’s art you’re interested in it’s not practical and not valid. Sometimes I wish I could give a giant fuck you to all the teachers who said I wouldn’t amount to anything because I preferred music over school,” Eddie started, those umber eyes catching yours in the lamplight. “But I’m glad you’re trying because I don’t doubt for one second that you have a gift. I believe in you.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Always, Buttercup.” He shuffled even closer, his stomach pressing into yours, dark eyes glinting with vibrancy. “Looks like there’s some di —”

“Do not finish that sentence!” You laughed, shifting until you were comfortable enough, forehead pressing into the curve of his chest, arms looped tight around his waist.

His eyes softened then, lips settling into a firm line. “Look, I know — I know we didn’t plan for this to happen the way it has, but our little girl really has the best mom.”

“You really think so?” He hated the sound of your voice. The lack of confidence behind the tone. Felt his heart cleave down the middle.

“Absolutely. Why…do you doubt that?” Eddie frowned as you tugged him closer, fingers twined in the back of his shirt.

“I…my parents weren’t around much. Always too busy, too worried about other things than quality time spent with me,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m afraid when she gets here I just won’t know what to do. Won’t know what she needs when she’s crying, or how to change her diaper, or how to tell what she’s thinking. I didn’t have an example of all of that, so what if I’m terrible at it?”

“Can I be honest?” Eddie asked, tipping your chin up with a finger.

“Shoot.”

“I’ve never changed a diaper. Or been around a newborn other than Melody. Even then, I’d kind of waited until she was less fragile to hold her. I’m scared as shit, too,” he said, locking eyes with you. “So we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“Okay.” You weren’t alone. Despite everything, you weren’t alone. Eddie and you would figure everything out as a team — two people navigating the unknown.

“Also, we can’t change how we grew up. But we can make sure we try harder for Elena to give her the best.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said, pressing your fingertips against his sternum, feeling his pulse race beneath. “Always knowing what to say.”

He chuckled, a low, raspy tired sound. “I'm flattered you think that, but I’m just figuring it out too, you know? All I know is I’ll never be the way my dad was to our daughter, and the rest I’m sure will come along with her just being here.”

He paused, glancing down to where the two of you were connected, saying, “You have me.”

“You have me too, Eddie.”

——

Tossing and turning. Eddie felt you tossing and turning all night, annoyed huffs of breath falling from your lips every time you flipped over onto the opposite side to try and get comfortable. He’d realized quickly you never did, though.

“Hey,” he whispered, testing to see if you were presently awake. A displeased groan fell from your parted lips, body flopping back over so your face was mere inches from his on your separate pillow. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m uncomfortable,” you admitted, mouth turning downward in a sour frown. “It’s not even like I’m not tired. I know I’m tired, but my mind feels all restless. And so is she.”

At that, Eddie pulled back the comforter and lowered his head to your middle, palm spreading over the hill of it. “Hey, behave in there, okay? Your mom is trying to get some sleep.” At your laughter, he shifted back onto his pillow. “Turn over.”

“What?”

“Turn over. I’ll rub your back and we can talk until you fall back asleep,” he said, immediately noticing the curve of your brow in confusion. “My mom used to do that all the time when I’d have nightmares. Figure it’ll work the same.”

“But you need sleep,” you argued, knowing he had taken an extra weekend shift tomorrow at the shop that he needed to be up early for.

“I’ll make an extra cup of coffee in the morning. Right now though, we both need sleep,” he stated plainly, “but I won’t be able to if I know you’re unable to.”

With an exasperated sigh, you rolled back over, hips wiggling very innocently as you got comfortable, and yet in a way that had Eddie swallowing the thick knot in the back of his throat.

The past few days, being so close, sharing a bed — he’d said it would be easy, a simply platonic situation, but he’d felt anything but. Wanted so badly so many times to lean over and kiss you, to see if he nudged that part of your neck he’d discovered on Halloween night you’d make those pretty sounds he’d strum from you over and over again.

But he knew better. Respected your wishes and boundaries. Knew he wouldn’t press the matter unless you decided you wanted to take a leap again. He’d decided it from that moment weeks ago now, where you had suggested the two of you remain friends for the sake of Elena. The ball would remain in your court; forever, if you’d decided that was what you wanted.

With a thick swallow, Eddie raised his fingers up to your trapezius muscles, fingers curling around the breadth of them, thumbs digging into the space below. At the first deep exhale from your lips, he rubbed in circles, watching as your body slowly melted into the blankets further, breathing becoming deeper.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“What’s your favorite color?” you asked, and his cheek twitched.

It became a game of sorts these few weeks. Various questions intended for getting to know one another. Either him or you would pick a question or a topic and talk. Sometimes for hours a night, simply listening to the other. Eddie could listen to you prattle on for ages — had known as much some weeks ago now.

“Red,” he said, palms sliding down the planes of your back, grin curling upward at the breathy moan that left you. “What about you?”

“I’m not really sure,” you admitted, curling your palm beneath your head. “It kind of changes every day. Lately it’s yellow, but tomorrow it might be cornflower blue.”

“Cornflower blue, huh?” he chuckled, fingers digging into your lower back.

He mentally berated himself when your hips arched backward a bit, nearly falling into the cradle of his lap. Now wasn’t quite the time to get a hard on. It had been bad enough having to slip out of bed before you woke each morning before you realized the effect you had on him — an effect that went far beyond normal morning wood.

“What is one thing you wish you spent more time doing as a child?”

Eddie paused for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip. “I…maybe I’d have taken more pictures with my mom. I’d always been an asshole when she tried, especially when I got older. They always came out so blurry. The few pictures left of her I have are like that.”

Your fingers reached backward to circle his wrist, pausing him in his movements. “I’d like to see them sometime.”

“Definitely,” he promised, resuming his massage. “What about you?”

“Mmm, reading more books, probably. Funny, seeing as I’ve worked in a library setting for a few years now.” Your head turned over your shoulder. Eddie’s breath hitched at the softness behind your eyes. “If you could become a superhero, how would you like it to happen? Like…what’s your origin story. I feel like I’d want to have, I don’t know, realized I was impervious to fire or something. Would be pretty cool.”

“Easy,” Eddie said, mouth tipping into a smirk, “I plug into my amp, get a little electrocuted, get electric powers.”

“A true rock god.” You giggled, and it sounded like wind through the chimes you'd installed on the front porch. A swift punch to his gut, a hand wrapped tight around his heart.

You continued like that for another half hour. His fingers dragging long lines over your back, your eyes closed as you tossed question after question into the open air. Eventually, you began to drift. Body pulled further and further into an oncoming rest, yawns spilling from your gently parted lips.

For a while, you remained silent, and Eddie wondered if you’d fallen asleep. But you flipped over to face him, closer now than you had been before, and curled your palm beside your face. Close enough he could reach over and brush his lips along your every knuckle. Wanted to, he realized.

“If you could change that night. Halloween. Would you?”

He watched the worry as it crossed along your features, the fear over his answer to your question plaguing your mind. The question you’d been building up to with all the lighter ones. Exhaling deeply, he reached over and brushed his fingers along the back of your hand, head shaking slowly.

“No, because I’d have never met you. And with Elena, it’s not what we planned, sure. But…in getting to know you, I care about you so damn much, Buttercup. I like waking up to you humming in front of the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish brewing. Or when you yell at me for tossing something colored into the whites. I like cooking with you in the kitchen and I even like our couch talks when I rub your damn feet.” Your eyes, glittering with unshed tears, flickered up to his face, and he brushed the moisture collecting there from your bottom lash line. “You’re one of the most important people in my life now, I hope you realize.”

“You’re one of the most important people in mine,” you whispered back, lacing your fingers with his. “I think the massage worked, by the way.”

He smiled, watching your eyes start to droop a bit. “Tired?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, fingers tightening in his.

A long sigh spilled from you, eyes shutting, and he immediately missed the sight of them. The glow of your irises in the dark, uniquely yours, and strikingly beautiful. Gentle fingers lifted to run along your cheek, your breathing starting to even out a bit, becoming deeper with every passing second.

“Can I ask you one more question?” It was spoken quietly, so softly Eddie had almost nodded off himself when you’d finally asked.

“Anytime.”

“Can you hold me?”

Hesitant, you sounded so hesitant, fear of rejection evident in your voice. Another reason why he hated Paul. Because you’d deserved the world and he’d gone and taken advantage of your heart.

“Always,” he reassured, heart racing as you rolled over and shifted backward a bit, his own body coming to rest along your spine. Like this, your backside rested in the cradle of his hips, your head rested along his bicep tucked beneath a pillow, and his arm swooped low around your belly. “Is this good?”

He ached with the warmth of it. With the way you leaned down and nuzzled your head further into his arm, the way your body fitted perfectly against his, how you felt so relaxed and comforted by simply being near him. Beautiful. You were so damn beautiful, like a fucking angel in his arms, and he realized how lucky he was.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whispered.

With you in his arms, his hand splayed over where his daughter grew, he realized what he really held in that bed.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered back, dropping the softest of kisses to your temple.

His family — not the one he’d been born with, and maybe not the perfected image of one, but family all the same.

He’d never take that for granted.

——

please let me know what you think. it quite literally makes my day, as well as other creatives, so just throwing that out there. i also have just loved talking to you all every week. it’s been the best. also, stay tuned for next week, with chapter six titled ‘the date.’ getting closer to the end here. 🩷🥹

#daylight!eddie #lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #dad!eddie munson x pregnant!reader

757 notes · View notes

missmonsters2 · 9 months

Text

Mirror, Mirror | Two

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

PART ONE

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda oscillates between crying and being overcome with confidence to confess. She barely has time to reflect when the devastating news arrives that you have a date, and Wanda needs to formulate a plan—quickly.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: cue the shenanigans of date stalking and taylor swift. Put your hands together for the real MVP of this chapter: Yelena.

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4.5k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

This week's philosophical question is: Is it gay to think about your best friend?

The short answer is no. The long, complicated answer is that it might be.

There's logic and reasoning behind this because don't most people think about their best friend? Don't most people plan to have their best friend in the future? If not, then why would they be best friends in the first place?

Sadly, there's a rude awakening in Wanda's wobbly defense. Natasha is the only person to blame for blowing down her defense made of straw when Wanda chats with her on the phone in the evening while you're out for a photoshoot.

"How's Maria doing?" Wanda asks.

"Good," Natasha answers, and Wanda can hear the tap water running and realizes the redhead is doing the dishes. "She'll be coming to visit during Christmas."

"Oh, you must be very excited!" Wanda beams. If it were her, she'd be ecstatic to be seeing you after so long.

"Yeah, it'll be good to see her. I think she's bringing her girlfriend, Sharon. They've been seeing each other for a few months, and she doesn't have anyone to spend Christmas with since her grand-aunt passed away.

"Oh," Wanda's voice is low, brows furrowing. "That seems very fast if she's coming to spend a holiday with Maria. How do you feel about it?"

Natasha hums. "Happy, I guess? I haven't met Sharon, but I've been hearing good things about her. She's able to keep up with Maria's busy life as she's got her own, but they make time for each other."

"But what if Sharon's wrong for Maria, or Maria ends up getting hurt."

"Then I'll break Sharon's legs, but Maria's a big girl. I'll be there for her, but she'll be okay," Natasha chuckles.

"But—"

"Wanda, what's with the questions about Maria?" Natasha cuts off. "Is it something with Bug? Are you worried about Raye? She's told me they haven't even gone on a first date yet; why are you so worried?"

"It's not about that!" Wanda said defensively. "I mean—I am worried, but I just don't want her getting hurt. She's my best friend; she deserves someone perfect. Don't you want someone perfect for Maria?"

Even as the words came out of Wanda's mouth, she grimaced because she was nowhere near perfect herself.

"Of course I do," Natasha sighs. "But unless Maria is hurting, I'm not going to get overly involved with her love life. She'll go at her own pace and update me as she goes."

"But how will you know if Maria is going to continue living away? If she gets serious with Sharon, will Maria still plan to move back here? How will you guys plan on having a wedding at the same time and picking a house in the same neighborhood?" Wanda asks seriously. Her tone is distraught because it feels like Natasha doesn't care about her best friend at all!

There's a moment of silence on the other line before Natasha says, "We don't plan for that. I mean, I'll be bummed for sure if Maria doesn't move back but we'll always be best friends. We'll visit each other and keep in contact as often as we need, but we don't need to physically be in the same place."

And another realization slides into place.

"How are you guys best friends?!" Wanda yells into the phone before she hangs up without another word.

Wanda knows that she'll have to call Natasha later and apologize and say she's on her period or something, but right now, with her eyes hot and wet, she digs her face into her pillow and cries instead.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Hey, I need to head out for another shoot today. Do you want me to pick up anything for you?"

Your voice muffles through Wanda's closed door. You've come in a few times, but Wanda had stayed in bed and pretended that she might've been under the weather.

"No," Wanda says loud enough so you can hear it. "Have fun, though."

"I'll be home soon and make you some paprikash, but there's some chicken soup in the fridge for you if you want some while I'm gone," you reply. Wanda momentarily hears your hand land on the doorknob, but you don't turn it and come in. "Feel better, brat."

You don't wait for Wanda's response even though it is a quiet, "Thanks, stinky."

Alone in the apartment once more, Wanda sighs. She's been all over the place emotionally since she last talked to Natasha on the phone. She later sent a voice memo through text apologizing and said her period just came, which explained all the craziness. Luckily, Natasha was kind enough to leave it be, but they haven't chatted much since then—mostly on Wanda's end.

Wanda's been caught between wanting to spend more time with you and distancing herself while sorting through her feelings. It was so easy at that moment to leave Vision and feel intense jealousy of Raye, but now in their own little bubble, everything was unraveling like a poorly wrapped present.

The only saving grace was that you and Raye couldn't align your schedules to go on a date anytime soon. Raye was out of state currently and was supposed to be traveling for work for the next few weeks, and you were confirming projects that were supposed to be for the entire month.

The extra time was sorely appreciated.

In short, Wanda has cried 8 times in the last week while equally getting the inspiration almost to confess 7 times.

There was a nagging fear, though. What if you didn't feel the same? What if Wanda was reading this one gigantic sign wrong, and you simply just liked brunettes with green eyes?

Or, what if you did feel the same and things didn't work out? What if the two of you date, and it goes wonderfully well before it ends? It doesn't matter what causes the end; just what if it did?

In either scenario, things would never be the same, and Wanda would lose her best friend of 10 years.

Although, Wanda reasons that even if she confessed and you didn't feel the same, she wouldn't actually lose you. Sure, things would never be quite the same, but the friendship would continue. They've endured much worse, and Wanda would probably get over her feelings.

Probably.

Because if she didn't, well, Wanda wouldn't know what to do. She's lived too long of her life with you; she can't think of what it'd be like without you. Logically, she knew she'd survive, but there'd always be a part of her missing.

Sometimes, Wanda thinks there was always a part of her missing until the day she met you. She can still remember 10 years ago like it was yesterday.

"Wanda, it'll be fine," Pietro's accent was thick and heavy, and Wanda refused to say anything out loud to acknowledge it.

The girls in her class were already making fun of her accent, and her attempts to talk to them were rebuffed with looks as if they couldn't believe she dared to speak to them.

It was too difficult, Wanda thought. It was too difficult to make friends when she transferred here mid-year, and everyone had already formed their cliques since elementary.

It was hard enough with the growing changes in her 14-year-old body, and she already felt awkward all the time—the giggling behind her back and to her face wasn't helping.

Wanda wanted to go back home to Sokovia, except there was nothing left to return to. The war had reduced everything to shambles, and everyone else in her family was happy to have been able to seek refuge in America—Rochester, specifically.

Wanda knew she should be grateful, especially since many of her aunts, uncles, cousins, and other extended family couldn't escape. She never really had too many friends, but the few she did went to Canada, and she knew she'd unlikely ever talk to them again.

It was a lot of change, and Pietro was the only person who understood her at this new school, but even he couldn't do much since they shared no classes together. Plus, Pietro had still managed to make a friend, and Wanda didn't have the heart to make him sit with her at lunch every day.

"Do you want me to eat lunch with you? I can ask Sam to sit with us," Pietro offered, but Wanda shook her head.

"Are you sure?" Pietro asked again, preparing to sit with Wanda anyway, but Wanda shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I'm just going to eat my lunch quick and head to the library to catch up on some assignments," Wanda mumbled quietly, waiting for some girls in her class to pass by before she said it.

"Okay," Pietro said, sighing since he was conflicted about staying with his sister or heading off to hang out with his friend. But at Wanda's insistence, he merely told her where she could find him if there was anything and took off with one last glance.

When Pietro was fully out of sight, Wanda took a seat alone at an empty table, pulling out her lunch reluctantly. She was quick to notice that the American kids typically brought a plain sandwich or bought food from the cafeteria, which usually consisted of the same foods like pizza or mac and cheese.

While the comments about the food she brought were also embarrassing, Wanda didn't have it in her to ask her mother to make something else. Money was tight, and asking to add other things to the grocery list just so she could fit in didn't seem worth it when it wouldn't do anything about the fact no one wanted to talk to her.

So, Wanda pulled out the finomfőzelék with her breaded chicken breast. She still didn't open it and let her containers sit on the table.

Wanda wasn't quite sure what was causing it. Maybe it was just this specific instance of sitting alone, or maybe it was the last week and a half of enduring this, but Wanda felt her eyes burn and water. She willed it with everything she had inside to not let it fall and took a deep breath.

"Hi."

The sudden sound made Wanda's head snap up, eyes wide with surprise. You stood there, and Wanda sort of recognized you from her classes. She thought she shared all but one with you. You've never contributed to the bullying but never stopped it or talked to her, either.

Wanda vaguely recalled you've been sick with a cold the last few days. Her eyes shifted to look behind you, and she could see your friends looking very confused and beckoning you to come back to their lunch table.

"Hi," Wanda quietly greeted you back, wincing at how the accent could even come out with one syllable.

You sat down suddenly, clearing your throat. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay," Wanda replied warily.

"Do you practice witchcraft?"

The question stumped Wanda.

"What?"

"Do you practice witchcraft?" You repeated, looking serious.

"No," Wanda frowned, so perplexed that she couldn't even be upset about her accent. "I don't. Why would you think that?"

"Well, Hela has been spreading rumors that you're a witch from Sokovia, and that's why Mr. Coulson passed away suddenly when you came."

Then, it's suddenly so clear why no one has been talking to her.

"But if you're not a witch cursing people to death, then that's cool," you said, interrupting Wanda's thoughts. "I wanted to ask you that earlier but then I got sick for a few days. So, do you want to hang out with me?"

Wanda just stared at you, her heart racing because finally, finally, she was going to have a friend. "Yes," Wanda replied quickly, smiling. "That'd be...cool," she repeated your slang.

"Cool," you smiled back before pointing at her food. "Noticed you bring different food every other day. Can I try some? I'll trade you some of my sandwich. Heads up, though, my mom has been experimenting with food. This week was Chinese food, so beef and broccoli might be between the bread."

Wanda smiled at the memory, the ends of it tapering off. You changed her life, and even when Hela made fun of you, you shut her up with a comment about how she stuffed her bra. It was devastating to a 14-year-old.

After that, the two of you were inseparable. You still occasionally hung out with your group of friends, but you definitely drifted to spend time with Wanda.

Wanda wonders if it was actually at that moment that she fell in love with you, but at 14, she didn't know how else to interpret it other than friendship.

You and Wanda didn't meet Nat, Steve, Bucky, and all the others until high school when the other districts were poured into one school. Since then, so much has happened.

Your parents divorced.

Wanda's mother passed away from cancer.

You dated Sam very briefly, giving him your first kiss and then shortly breaking up with him after.

You came out to her, scared, hesitant, and so happy when Wanda didn't care.

Wanda started to date Vision.

Wanda wanted to go to NYU, and you happily went there with her.

You confessed you had a crush on Natasha but didn't want to pursue it.

Wanda's first break-up with Vision.

You dated Jean Grey and cried when she left you for Scott.

When you wanted to stay in New York City, Wanda decided to stay here too, rooting her career here with you.

Wanda wonders if maybe actually she'd fallen in love with you several times over and over but didn't know how to interpret any of her strong feelings for you, categorizing them as friendship just as she did when she was 14.

"I'm home!"

Wanda hears the apartment door close and the shuffling of you taking off your shoes. She looks at the time and realizes two hours have already passed. Deciding that she's wallowed enough, Wanda decides to get out of bed and leave her room, running her fingers through her hair to tame it.

When she enters the kitchen, Wanda finds you starting the process of making paprikash. It's something you've always done for her when she's sick, feeling down, or homesick. Yet, in this moment, something swells inside Wanda's chest, and she wants to burst out crying again.

"Oh, hey," you turn around and smile as you see her, and Wanda clears her throat and blinks the tears quickly away.

"Hey," Wanda smiles back as she makes her way towards you. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I'm feeling better."

You open your arms for her to dive into a tight hug. You smell like clean laundry and mint, and Wanda wants to bottle your smell. The tension in Wanda lately starts to drain from her body as you rub her back comfortingly.

"Some paprikash never hurt nobody," you joke. "I'm glad you're feeling better, though, brat. Is it the break-up with Vis?"

"Huh?" Wanda's brows furrow. "No, not really. I haven't really thought about it."

"Homesickness?"

"Er," Wanda fiddles with the back of your shirt. "Kinda, I guess."

"Well, good thing Thanksgiving is in a few months. Your dad and brother are coming here this year, right?"

Wanda nods, brightening at the thought of seeing her family. "Yes, I hope papa and Tony don't get into it again this year."

"I think your dad gets a sick sense of joy of torturing the son of man responsible for all the weapons that destroyed Sokovia," you say dryly. "I think Tony's starting to catch on he's not serious, though."

Wanda chuckles, and you pat her shoulders before you pull away and take out a knife and chopping board. Watch sits on the bar stool, watching you cook, letting things fall into a comfortable silence.

This was everything, Wanda thought.

Nothing could ruin this moment, and Wanda thought long and hard, building up the courage to say something about her feelings. She wasn't sure what to say, so she might start with something flirtatious, but Wanda would say it more sensually instead of the usual joking tone.

"Oh!" You say without looking at Wanda, chopping the onion and garlic. "I forgot to tell you. Raye's flying back in a few days before heading out again, and we planned a date this weekend."

Everything is ruined, and Wanda can't tell if the onion or the devastating news is causing her eyes to water.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Why did you bring me here?" Yelena hisses.

"Because I can't bring Natasha!" Wanda hisses back. "And be quiet or else they're going to hear us!"

"Why not Natasha? She's your other closest friend," Yelena says, quieter as she grumbles. "You're making me miss movie night with Kate. We're supposed to watch Insidious and you're ruining my chances of making fun of her being scared."

"Because," Wanda exasperatedly says. "I've already had a meltdown with Natasha, and she's going to make all sorts of comments if she knows I'm doing this now. I can't be here alone since this is the type of restaurant only couples go to."

"You think I won't make comments?" Yelena raises her brow at Wanda, looking frighteningly similar to Natasha at that moment. "I thought you grew out of stalking Bug's dates in university."

Wanda doesn't reply, too busy staring at your table. Raye is making some kind of flirty comment, reaching across the table and lacing your fingers through hers. You're laughing—Wanda can tell with how your shoulders shake.

The restaurant you've chosen to take Raye to is a slightly upscale steak restaurant. You've ordered cocktails, a bottle of wine, and two appetizers to start.

Raye's biting her bottom lip suggestively before she takes a sip of her wine, her index finger is stroking the back of your hand, and Wanda's wondering if she can bribe a waiter to spill a glass of beer on Raye accidentally.

"Seriously, I know you're best friends, but this is out of hand. Just confess before Raye steals your girl and they get married."

Wanda whips her head back towards Yelena, eyes filled with indignation.

"THEY WOULD NEVER—"

"SHHH," Yelena hisses, and they both have to hide behind their menus when you turn around and look. "Jesus Christ, Maximoff."

"They would never get married," Wanda huffs before peeking outside her menu to see that you've returned to your conversation with Raye. But then she turns back to Yelena. "You know about my feelings? Did you always know? Did you—"

"Shut up," Yelena groans. "No, I was just fishing, and you're the sucker I caught. I mean, was there a time I thought you guys were too close? Yes, but it eventually became normal."

The two of them put their menu's down when it's safe, and Yelena seems to be carefully planning how to explain her thoughts.

"We've all accepted that you guys are very close, but you both kept dating different people—you specifically only dating boys and then Vision. It worked out that we were all going to NYU, but did you know that Bug had an offer to study abroad and do an internship that would've accelerated her graduation and then career?" Yelena carefully looks at Wanda's face.

"What?" Wanda frowns. She vaguely remembers you mentioning the program but recalled you dismissing it. You didn't tell her you were offered a spot in the program. "No, but I mean, she was building her online platform, and it was taking off. She didn't need to do an internship."

"No," Yelena agreed with a shrug, "but it wouldn't have hurt. I suspect she couldn't stand the idea of being away from you for a year. Just like how you turned down the job offer in LA at graduation when you knew she would stay in NYC."

"That wasn't—I just—" Wanda huffs. "I like where I am now. My work is flexible."

"Yeah, but being in public relations, you could've been making twice the amount you are now," Yelena raises her brow again. "Although, at this point, I suspect you both chose adaptable careers in case one of you wanted to move to another city."

"That's not true," Wanda protests.

"Do you even like being a PR?" Yelena asks. "At least Bug loves photography. You, on the other hand, have a talent for PR, but it'd be just as easy for you to do anything else."

"I do like it," Wanda stresses. "It's easy, and the clients I've got keep me busy enough. Just because I don't spend all my time on it or talk about it doesn't mean I don't like it."

"But—"

"Enough talking, our food is coming, and you better be ready to leave at a moment's notice," Wanda cuts Yelena off as the waiter arrives and sets their food down.

"Worst. Date. Ever," Yelena deadpans.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

As it turns out, Raye lives relatively close to the restaurant as you walk hand-in-hand back to her place.

And not too far behind, Wanda and a reluctant Yelena trail from a distance.

"She's not going to Raye's house, is she?" Wanda whispers with a frown.

"Why not?" Yelena grunts, adjusting her leather jacket. "She has casual flings all the time, and by the looks of their date earlier, it went very well."

"Not. Helping," Wanda glares at Yelena. They enter a street filled with apartments, and Wanda is careful about not following too close and walking under the streetlights.

"This is psychotic," Yelena groans. "Can't we go home? I feel like a literal serial killer out here."

Wanda doesn't respond, just staring ahead as they continue to walk. You're swinging your hand back and forth, interlaced with Raye's. There's giggling, and Raye keeps leaning closer to say something to you.

There's so much sexual tension that it's palpable from here, and Wanda wishes there was a serial killer out here.

How was Wanda going to stop this? How was Wanda going to prevent you from going home with someone else?

Wanda picks up a small rock and chucks it hard toward your general direction, hoping to spook the two of you apart. Except, her aim is so terrible that it flies completely left and hits the car beside you instead.

The car alarm goes off, setting off flashing lights and a very, very loud beeping noise.

"Wanda, what the fuck—" Yelena is cut off when Wanda suddenly shoves her down into a bush and dives next to her. "Ow, you fucking—" Wanda slaps her hand over Yelena's mouth.

You and Raye look behind, completely perplexed, when no one is there. You try to check out the vehicle, but other than a small dent, nothing is wrong with the car otherwise. Since neither you nor Raye caused it, you continued walking.

It turns out Raye lived in the building just a few steps ahead. You both stand at the door, holding hands before Raye throws her arms around your neck, smirking.

Wanda's about to pick up another rock when Raye moves in suddenly for a hot, searing kiss.

And when Wanda watches you kiss back, her hand goes slack. Something awful builds in the pit of her stomach, and there's nothing Wanda can do when she watches you go into the apartment.

Yelena watches Wanda's crestfallen face and sighs. "Wanda—"

"Let's just get back to the car and go home," Wanda mutters as she stands up, not bothering to brush off the dirt, leaves, or twigs from her hair.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The car ride home is sickeningly pathetic—a new low for Wanda.

"PLEASE DON'T BE IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE. PLEASE DON'T HAVE SOMEBODY WAITING ON YOUUUU—" Wanda hoarsely cries out, tears streaming down her face. She's off-tune, and she's screaming more than she is singing.

"Oh, god," Yelena sighs, bringing her hand to her face in embarrassment in the passenger seat. They've stopped at a red light, and the car beside them is staring at them strangely. "This is sad for even you, Maximoff."

Wanda doesn't even acknowledge that she heard Yelena, only belting out, "I'LL SPEND FOREVER WONDERING IF YOU KNEW—"

"Just kill me, just kill me, just crash this car and kill us both," Yelena mutters to herself.

The house is dark when Wanda returns, not that it should be any surprise. Deep down, though, Wanda hoped you'd return home and somehow beat her to it.

Wanda's eyes feel tired and raw from crying the entire way home. Yelena gave her a reluctant hug, mustering all her kindness into rubbing Wanda's back and kissing the crown of her head when it was buried in her friend's shoulder.

Pulling out her phone, Wanda looks at her texts. One from work, a couple of Natasha, one from Vis, and one from Pietro. She stares at your name in her messages, but nothing comes even if she wills it.

Instead, she shoots you a quick "hey :)" and puts her phone away. You'd unlikely answer, but Wanda couldn't help herself.

Sighing, Wanda gets ready for the night, trying to not let her mind drift on what activities you and Raye could be doing.

Please let it be scrabble, please let it be scrabble, Wanda thinks as she finishes brushing her teeth.

As she walks towards her room, she pauses. It's unlikely you'd return until tomorrow morning, maybe even noon. Biting her lip, Wanda turns and walks into your room instead, crawling into your bed under the sheets. She pulls the blanket up to her chin, inhaling your scent slowly.

It both comforts her and makes her heart twinge.

After an hour, sleep falls upon Wanda easily, and she's nearly in a deep sleep when the lights suddenly turn on, and a yelp is heard.

Wanda wakes up suddenly, shooting up with her heart pounding that it's a robber, but it's just you standing at the door with your hand over your heart and chest heaving.

"Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!" You scold Wanda. "I totally thought you were my sleep paralysis demon!"

Wanda rolls her eyes at the comment but frowns as you calm yourself and rummage through your closet for sleeping clothes. "What are you doing at home? I thought you were going to sleep over at Raye's."

"She got a call in the middle of everything. It was her sister or something having some kind of meltdown. Raye says her sister can be dramatic, and it happens once a month, but she couldn't really hang up. I got sleepy waiting, but I didn't wanna crash there to just sleep on a first date," you answer.

"I'm sure you would've gotten some in the morning," Wanda mutters.

"I guess, but feels weird since it'd definitely be rushed," you take off your jacket and socks before heading to the bathroom. "It's fine, we'll probably reschedule for another date."

"Perfect," Wanda sighs as she starts to get up.

"Stay there, brat," you tell her as you stand at the door. "If you're gonna sleep in my bed, you better commit to the sleepover."

Wanda sticks her tongue out at you, which you return before you leave.

Tapping her fingers against the sheets, Wanda smiles. Maybe the night wasn't so hopeless after all.

PART THREE

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

1K notes · View notes

dejwrld · 1 month

Text

⤷‧₊˚ extra credit comes with a price when it involves professor ackerman.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, female anatomy described, reader is black coded, grad student!reader, professor!levi, age gap (reader in late twenties while levi in thirties), praise kink, degradation kink, corruption kink, oral (character receiving), reader gives levi a mouth hug lol, dom!levi, told in 2nd pov, levi is 6'1 in my head and in this fic (he was made short because they didn't want him to outdo eren's face card), mdni

a repost from my old account.

The top of your black pen grazed over your lip as you stared at your current grade. Graduation was just around the corner, it was practically in the palm of your hand. But here it was sliding through your palm bit by bit as you watch your grade descend lower and lower for your physics course. You only blamed yourself. Registering for classes later than usual and was stuck with the professors that had a horrible rating on ratemyprofessor.com.

Your eyes never twitched in annoyance before reading the reviews and rating on Professor Ackerman’s. To rants about how hard his tests were, his harsh grading, and even locking the lecture hall door so late people couldn’t come in disturbing his teaching. You felt frustrated that this one course seemed to be the one to decide if you’ll be walking across the stage in a couple weeks. So, you sucked in your pride and decided to ask for the one thing Professor Ackerman wrote in bold letters on his syllabus that he does not give out.

Extra Credit.

Perhaps, you were wishing the worst as you sat in the library. Your pretty smooth thighs adjust in the seat to prevent the nervous squirming waiting for a reply. Your teeth were grazing at your lower lip as your fingers kept clicking to refresh your emails. When you saw the email, your mouth gaped open seeing that he approved giving you extra credit. You were mentally doing a happy dance as you concluded that this would be another semester of you being on the Dean’s List after Professor Ackerman’s extra credit.

You promptly responded that you’ll stop at his office before you leave campus to go home. Which you quickly got a response from Professor Ackerman. Your eyes scanned over the harsh email of him demanding you to come receive the work now because he refused to wait for a student that came to him demanding help. You let out an annoyed sigh and questioned how could such a harsh man still be a professor at your university. You packed up your stuff quickly and made your way to his office. As you were leaving, you nearly knocked down Historia and Ymir.

“I’m sorry you guys, gotta meet with Professor Ackerman.

,” You briefly said as you went to leave.

“Professor Ackerman? Gosh, the last person, who went to his office hours they dropped the class.” Historia mentioned. She toyed with the ends of her cream sweater.

“Yeah, I even heard they left his office crying,” Ymir even adds.

“Thank you guys, for making me nervous about picking up extra credit work,” You admitted as you watched them disappear into the library.

When you reached his office, you felt so nervous. Your hands shook just a little as your mind was racing with so many thoughts. You hoped you didn’t stumble on your own words as you accept the extra work. You had to walk in there with your head held high and thank him for even giving you the opportunity to get your grade up. However, when your body slid into his office majority of your thoughts went out the window and your brain grew fuzzy.

It wasn’t any secret that Professor Ackerman was drop-dead gorgeous. He aged like a fresh bottle of wine imported from Italy. Many students and faculty whispered among each other about him. Wondering if he had a lover at home or if he even socialize at all. He was a huge mystery.

“Professor Ackerman, I am here to collect the extra credit work you mentioned in your email,” You say.

Your fingers toyed with the ends of your skirt as your eyes were peering at him while he was grading papers. His eyes never bothered to look up at you, “Just sit down and give me a minute.” He uttered in annoyance.

You did what you were told, occupying the brown leather seat that sat in the corner of his nicely decorated office. Professor Ackerman let out a sigh of frustration, “Not there. Right here.” His hand that wasn’t holding the red ink ball pen motioned to the seat in front of his desk.

You quickly stood up going to the seat that was in front of his desk. He went back to grading the work on his desk as your curious eyes once again scanned his office. From the ancient artifacts that were decorating the shelves, the number of books he had, and even the one picture of him smiling with a group of friends. Which actually took you by shock even seeing him smiling at all.

“You know, I don’t really give out extra credit.” Professor Ackerman said as he finally placed his pen down to look at him.

His intimidating stare caused you to shift yourself in the seat you were sitting in. Your fingers toying with each other as you were searching for words to say. You were wondering how could you be so confident answering and refuting him in class, but now that the two of you were alone you were a flustered mess.

“Which I appreciate you for even offering it to me.” You answered truthfully.

You only gained a hum in response before he was back grading papers. “Do you know why I’m giving you extra credit (Y/N)?”

“I’m an excellent student in your class.” You answered truthfully. After all, last time you checked you did have the highest grade in his course.

“If you were so excellent, you wouldn’t be here for the extra credit.” He shot down your comment and that felt like a dagger pierced at your heart.

“Well then, I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders.

He placed the pen down once again just for him to look at you. Once again it felt like you were in the hot seat. He leaned back into his huge leather chair, “You have a pretty mouth.” He bluntly admitted.

His comment caused you to be so confused. But that was until he urged you on your knees right in front of him behind his large desk.

Your mind was racing with so many thoughts as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. The look of innocence painted your face as your hand rubbed at his clothed bulge through the charcoal grey-colored slacks he wore. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he was rolling up the sleeves of the white button-up he wore. When his sleeves were rolled up to his liking, he stared down at you. As if you were below him.

“Open your mouth.” He demanded.

You did what you were told. Opening your mouth open to show him your exposed tongue waiting for his next command.

The pad of his index and middle finger pressed against the flat of your tongue. Your eyes began to water as his slick digits only pushed further causing a pornographic gag to escape from the back of your throat. Professor Ackerman’s lips curled into a smirk as he removed his fingers, a string of saliva followed along with his digits as he went to unbutton his pants.

“Pretty smart girls like you deserve extra credit don’t you think?” Professor Ackerman questioned. His fingers toyed with the band of his Calvin Klein briefs now this his slacks were hanging loosely around his waist. “Answer me (Y/N).” He says as his thumb traced alongside your lower lip.

“Yes Professor Ackerman. A pretty smart girl like me deserves the extra credit.” You babbled.

“Mhm, I think so also. But my extra credit always comes with a price.” Professor Ackerman hummed as he tugged his cock out of his briefs. His member springing out with perfection and the only thing you could do was watch.

Your eyes lit up with eagerness and your mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock. He kept it nicely shaved all the way down to his balls. The head of his cock was a flawless pink shade and it was shaped perfectly. You couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of his tip rubbing at your wet folds teasingly before sinking himself in you fully. But you knew that wasn’t going to happen. The way your knees were on the wooden floor as you waited for another command like a perfectly trained pet, Professor Ackerman wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of feeling his cock inside you.

His hand grabbed a hold of his cock as he tapped at your lip gloss-covered lips. A devious smirk paced on his face before he was speaking once again, “Suck it really well and the extra credit is all yours (Y/N).” He cooed.

Your heart was pounding against your chest as his precum smeared against your lips. You perched yourself on your knees to get comfortable before leaning forward to attack. Your pretty lips wrap around the head of Profesor Levi’s cock tasting the saltiness of his precum. A low hiss escaped the professor’s lips as you could feel him shutter against your touch. Your hands then went up to massage his shaft while your tongue licked up and down the base of his cock. Saliva beginning to coat your hands as your head was bobbing up and down on Professor Ackerman’s cock.

The lewd sound of sucking echoed within Professor Ackerman’s office as you were going down on him. His fingers ran through his jet-black-colored hair as he was turning into a moaning mess before you. His face turned as red as a tomato with each stroke you did with your hands while your lips smothered his tip. Despite being on your knees and only touching the older man with your mouth, you could feel the amount of heat was radiating off his body. Which you knew he was only growing hot with each second when he was unbuttoning his shirt to toss it across his office.

He looked down at you with such a flustered look, it caused you to smirk as you were stroking him off trying to catch your breath. When he saw your smirk, he would return one right back at you But his was very more sinful. “Smart girls don’t use their hands. Stop using your hands.” He demanded.

As your hands that were covered in your own saliva dropped to your side, your eyes begin to water as you felt Professor Ackerman’s hips push forward. The pornographic gagging sound followed by more saliva coating his cock caused him to move even faster. Your tears begin to burn your eyes with each harsh thrust towards your face. Your saliva was dripping out your mouth like a dog and your tears were staining your cheeks testing out your waterproof makeup. Professor Ackerman’s right hand grasped at the back of your head before he’s pushing your head forward. His cock disappeared into your mouth bit by bit as you gagged aggressively. Your gagging sent vibrations around his cock causing Professor Ackerman to utter out a string of profanity words. The tip of your nose pressed against this happy trail with ease as your hand grasped at his toned thighs. Your fingernails dug into the skin of his thighs as he held your head down while his cock rested in the pit of your throat.

When he let go of your head, your head bounced back like a yo-yo. Your chest rose up and down as you were trying to catch your breath. A thick string of saliva connected from your pretty mouth to Professor Ackerman’s cock. Your hand wiped at your tears that were clouding your vision and you could feel your lace panties grow wet at the action that just happened. Professor Ackerman made you choke on his cock and you instantly grew soaked. Who would have thought?

“We’re not done yet doll,” Professor Ackerman uttered as he’s grabbing a hold of your head once more. Guiding you to suck once again, but this time he had both of his hands on the back of your head guiding your movements. “Such a pretty smart girl that can suck my cock so well.” He complimented.

“You look so stunning wrapped around me like this.” He praised through subtle grunts.

Your tongue swirled around his tip and that seemed to push the professor further off the edge.

“Keep doing that and I may cum right in that pretty mouth of yours.” He added.

As you kept sucking at his cock, your hand reached down to rub your wet folds through your panties. Professor Ackerman chuckled at your poor excuse of desperation. “Want me to touch you huh?”

With his cock in your mouth like a flavored popsicle, you would nod with enthusiasm. You needed him to touch you. You craved for his fingers to be the one rubbing at your puffy lips. But through your glossy wet eyes, you were met with Professor Ackerman’s cruel smile. He wasn’t going to give you what you wanted. Instead, you watched as he swooshed around his own spit in his mouth before letting the huge droplet of saliva travel down to his cock that still was in your mouth. His own spit landed on the shaft of his cock that wasn’t buried deep inside your mouth.

“Now use your hands if you want that extra credit (Y/N).” Professor Ackerman urged.

With eagerness, your hand clasped around his shaft and you begin to massage it at a rhythmic pace. Using his own saliva as lube while you sucked at his tip and massaged his shaft. Once in a while, your tongue dragged alongside the one vein that occupied the back of his cock before cupping at his ballsack.

“Fuck, that feels good.” He cursed. “I’m going to cum.”

As if that flipped a switch inside you, your mouth latched onto his ballsack while your hand massaged his shaft. Sucking fiercely enough to gain whimpers and groans from Professor Ackerman as his body began to shutter. You released yourself from his heavy balls with a pop before your went back to massaging his dick, your thumb pressing against his swollen tip once in a while.

“Please (Y/N)—”

“Please what Professor Ackerman,” You cooed while you kissed at his tip once again, your hands still gripping at his cock.

“The extra credit is all yours, just let me cum.” Levi urged as his hips bucked forward just to feel even more friction around his cock.

“I’m not stopping you from cumming Professor Ackerman.” You said as you pumped his cock in your hand. Imagining that perhaps your hand was your tight cunt wrapped around him.

Professor Ackerman uttered a word in German as thick ropes of his cum began to decorate your hand. Your hand slowed down at a steady pace with each pump of the creamy white substance decorated not only your hand but the blouse you were wearing.

Professor Ackerman plopped down on the large leather seat behind his desk as you climbed back off the ground. Your knees were bruised harshly, cum stained your blouse, and your throat still was grasping for recovery due to the way he pushed so aggressively towards you. You smooth down your skirt before picking up the folder filled with the extra credit worksheets. Smoothly letting them drop into your bag and going to make a quick exit. Frankly, you didn’t want to get caught by another student or even a faculty member. Your hand went to unlock the door, but you heard Professor Ackerman’s voice stop you.

“Are you stupid? Are you that much of a nuisance that you’ll go out like that?” Professor Ackerman said, he stood up shuffling to the small brown chest in the corner of his office. His nicely tailored dress pants hung loosely around his waist as went through it.

When he stood back up, he had a crewneck sweater shirt with the university name on it. However, this one was a bit different from the ones that were currently being sold in the bookstore. This was a vintage one, assuming it was from when Professor Ackerman graduated.

You tugged off your shirt with quickness and stuffed it into your bag and soon tugged on the sweatshirt. It lingered with that familiar cologne he wore. Eros by Versace.

“Please return both the work and my sweatshirt by the end of my office hours tomorrow.” Professor Ackerman bluntly said before he was cleaning up the mess the two of you had made.

“Yes, Professor Ackerman.” You respectfully responded before leaving his office.

The thing you just did for extra credit.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #anime smut #anime x reader #snk smut #snk x reader #aot x black reader #female reader #anime x black reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

208 notes · View notes

wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 10 months

Note

im so tired of sterek fics where derek is like really mean or just aloof to stiles until they get together. do you have an recs where derek is just a sweetheart who's always soft on stiles even before they get together?

Here's softboi!derek.

let me take care of you by honestlydarkprincess

(1/1 I 1,1311 I Teen)

Stiles couldn’t do anything but stare at the alpha werewolf as he rambled while unloading the aforementioned supplies from the grocery bag to Stiles’ counter.

Nothing Stiles was seeing made sense.

Why was Derek here, in his apartment, with cold medicine and fucking soup?

Or, the one where Derek comes over to take care of a sick Stiles. They talk about their moms and confess some feelings. It's all very soft.

An Anchor for the Storm by andthwip

(1/1 I 3,246 I Mature)

Derek's the only person Stiles can turn to.

Give Me Shelter by WonderWolf

(1/1 I 8,295 I Teen)

I don’t make a good impression, I know,” Derek grumbles. “It’s fine. I get it.”

“Noooo,” Stiles groans in frustration, “but it isn’t fair because you’re not that guy, you’re not an asshole and you give cats punny names so they have a better chance at being adopted.”

“Who told you I named the cats?” Derek asks, his brows scrunching together in confusion.

“Scott,” Stiles smirks. “My favorite so far was Purrsephone.”

(Or the one in which Derek and Stiles both volunteer at an animal shelter, Derek works with cats and gives them punny names, Stiles works with the dogs, and misunderstandings ensue).

If It Means a Lot to You by Nier

(1/1 I 9,356 I Teen)

His mom had told him about mates in the past. Derek would often come home and just hear stories about how his parents had met and fallen for each other, how they had gotten together after learning about what they truly meant to one another.

He was a kid when she told him all this, so it didn't really make much sense to him at the time. All he could do was sit there on the edge of her bed, listening as his mother talked about how love is an act of courage. If you don't take that first step, then everything else is impossible too.

Set a Song for Me by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 11,573 i Teen)

“You did a favour for a stranger?” the sheriff asked, surprised. “You won’t even do a favour for me.”

“Your favours involve chocolate and salty snacks, damn straight I won’t do you any favours,” Stiles insisted, pointing an accusatory finger at his dad while leaning back against the counter, taking another large sip of coffee. “Some guy lost his phone and was calling it hoping someone would answer. That someone was me. He said he’d had some drinks and couldn’t come grab it right then, so we agreed to meet at the station this morning. I didn’t realize ‘this morning’ meant the ass crack of dawn.”

“It’s not the ass crack of dawn, that was at five thirty-seven, according to the weather app on my phone.”

Stiles let out a sarcastic laugh and flipped his dad off. The sheriff gave him a look, but he didn’t reprimand him, clearly able to tell Stiles was miserable.

Love At It's Purest by AbsolutelyNot2801

(12/? I 24,218 I Mature)

Sometimes Derek does things that makes Stiles think his crush is not completely one-sided, like gentle touches, soothing words and embraces like the one they were in that morning. And then he goes and does something stupid like getting a stupid girlfriend like Jennifer. It’s not because of Jennifer at all really. She’s lovely. But Stiles can’t help the hint of jealousy when he sees the loving gazes and soft, shy smiles.

And this is his step-brother he’s talking about. His step-brother! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Or a fic in which Stiles and Derek can’t help falling in love with each other. But there's a problem, they're step brothers. A fic with angst, feels and a happy ending.

The Spaz and the Sourwolf by TheRealDanniX

(9/9 I 24,674 I Teen)

When Stiles comes across something he shouldn't in the Preserve he ends up on four legs. Not that anyone in the Pack knows it's him. He's just hoping they can figure it out before anything else bad happens.

This Is Not Who I'm Supposed to Be by Anonymous

(11/11 I 24,932 I Teen)

After Stiles' friends get shot, the fox runs away from his home. He runs far enough that the white snow changes into green gras, and his white fur feels heavier than ever underneath the shining sun. Talia Hale and her family find him and she helps him turn back into human, something he hasn't been in years, and he has to learn how to be human again with the help from Derek. He realizes that life isn't easy. Not as human and not as a supernatural creature. Especially not when hunters are back in town.

shatter like glass, come apart in my hands by cosmicayan

(15/? I 47,107 I Mature)

The one in which Stiles goes missing for three months and then suddenly, out of nowhere, he turns up at the door of the Hale House, confusing himself, Derek, and literally everyone else.

Oh, yeah, and he has no memory of what happened to him (or, at least, no conscious memory).

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #fluff #getting together #anon

756 notes · View notes

nburkhardt · 10 months

Text

Feels Like the World's Gonna End (But I'll Get You Through)

This was supposed to be small, oops. Hopefully it reads okay! Also small warning: panic attacks, flashbacks. Hurt/Comfort, lots of cuddles & kisses at the end ✨ (btw when you see ~ it means a pov change.)

To a regular person, July 4th is a good day. It’s a day to celebrate and enjoy one another.

To Steve Harrington it is everything but.

Getting tortured either on or around July 4th would definitely change your opinion on the day. It would cause panic and anxiety.

He’s kept it close to his chest, what happened behind those steel doors. Kept it minimal with the rest of who was involved with the Russians. Robin especially doesn’t know exactly what happened to him when they separated them. Dustin and Erica doesn’t even know the torture happened, Steve and Robin kept it quiet.

The rest of their group didn’t even believe them about the Russians at first, so he couldn’t figure out how to bring it up. Since at the time Hopper was gone, believed to be dead and Joyce was grieving. Steve felt like he couldn’t speak to her about it, didn’t want to bring it up.

So, close to his chest is where it all stays.

————— July 4th, 1986 —————

Vecna defeated and with that the upside down is no longer around, everyone is finally able to breathe a little easier.

The Byers are back in Hawkins, living in a brand new home that they were able to finally finish putting together to hold the start of a new tradition of get togethers with their group and then some.

Today is the official start of said tradition. Everyone is meeting up and going to enjoy the day together, like normal regular people.

Or make an attempt to be normal regular people, for Steve at least. He’s been more, jumpy lately and luckily not a lot of people have notice. Sure, it’s been a good few months since everything went down and everyone is doing okay.

But the whole first part of July is just not Steve’s favorite anymore. Technically the whole month, if he’s being completely honest.

Which is just shitty, since his birthday is also July 4th.

Not that anyone knows, he kept that particular fact to himself. Celebrates it at the end, so everyone believes it’s the 31st instead. Which is fine, really it is. He’s not too picky when it comes to celebrating, before everything it was stuffy parties full of his parents friends and coworkers. Then it was parties to get drunk with classmates.

It’s been better since Dustin came into his life, since Robin and now with everyone else it’s good. It is.

Just with everything that happened in March on top of his unresolved trauma from last year, he can’t help but feel like something is going to come down.

Something is about to happen and it’s not great that this is going through his head as he’s sitting on the ledge of the Byers’ wall watching the kids run around like the teenagers they are or hearing laughter all around him.

There’s a genuine smile on his face as he watches Eddie spin Erica around and the honest to god joyful childlike smile on her face. It makes his heart beat a little faster, seeing not just Erica be the child that she is but also just Eddie.

He knows he’s in love with Eddie, has for a while. But he can’t bring himself to make a move, even if Robin swears Eddie has to have the same feelings. That there’s a chance but the last time he took one with the L word, his heart got stumped on.

So, he’ll stay right here and watch from his spot, listen to them be happy and enjoy the holiday. All while anxiously waiting for something to happen. His mind is set on it, even if he’s trying not to let those thoughts win.

Before he can even register anything, suddenly his vision is blocked and his heart rate immediately goes up as he’s also picked up and being moved. It’s so sudden that the anxiety he’s been having is loud and clear, telling him this is real.

This is happening. He’s being taken again. The Russians are here or wait- he never left, never escaped and his mind has finally decided to remind him of his new reality. That they’re here to break him more, hit him more, maybe they’ll actually go through and cut his fingers off now.

Still, he struggles and tries to escape. He whimpers out first, a wounded and pathetic sound even to his own ears. Opening his mouth and out comes, “I work at scoops ahoy! I didn’t mean to find it, I swear! You have to believe me, please!”

His mind flashes again to the absolute sinister look the Russian soldier has, shows him the bone saw and he can hear it start. There’s tears going down his face, even with whatever they put on him. Heart beating so fast, he’s shaking and struggling.

“Please, please! I just scoop ice cream!” He’s screaming, his throat hurts and they won’t stop. “I don’t know anything, Please!”

The arms around him are gone, with those gone he hits the ground hard and he scrambles to get away. Sobbing and trying to get away without vision, “let me go, please, please. I just work at scoops ahoy I didn’t mean to find anything! I didn’t see anything, I swear!”

Curling into a ball, he tries to stop but he can’t. He can’t see, he’s stuck under the mall and doesn’t know where Robin is- doesn’t know where Dustin and Erica are, he’s all alone.

Alone with evil people who want to hurt him.

Everyone freezes and their face go pale as they watch Steve curling into a ball rocking himself, sobbing into his legs. Pleading to stop hurting him, to believe him.

It’s heartbreaking.

Eddie has to shake himself to get moving, he glares at Lucas, Mike and Dustin as he quickly drops Erica’s hands to make it across the yard to Steve, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“We didn’t mean to scare him!”

“It was just a prank!”

He shakes his head and decides they aren’t important here, that the one sobbing is who he needs to pay attention to. Kneeling next to Steve, he doesn’t touch; not yet at least. He takes a deep breath before trying to get Steve out of this, “Steve, Steve, you’re okay.”

Steve only sobs harder, shaking his head.

“Stevie, hey, come on. You’re not there, whenever you are. It’s not real” he hopes his voice doesn’t sound as shaky as he feels, “Stevie, you’re at the Byers house, in the backyard.”

“You’re lying, this-this is a trick!” Steve sobs out, “it-it won’t work, I don’t know anything about any Russian code-”

There’s a few gasps around him and he looks over his shoulder to find Dustin’s eyes widen and Robin’s face pales even more, “It’s- it’s gotta be a flashback, he’s- we- Eddie, he thinks he’s in the bunker, from last year- under Starcourt”

“I don’t know anything, I swear. I work at scoops ahoy, I just scoop ice cream. Please, please let me go!”

All he can do is feel heartbroken all over again, feels helpless as Steve sobs in front of him. Eddie looks away from everyone else and focuses on Steve instead. He doesn’t want to touch yet, doesn’t want to make Steve freak out even more.

“Steve, listen to me. You are not at the bunker, you’re safe. I’m Eddie, it’s Eddie. It’s July 4th, 1986. You are not at Starcourt, you’re safe” his voice wavers towards the end, listening to Steve sob is not what he wanted to ever hear.

All Steve does is shake his head and sobs more.

Taking another moment to breathe, he leans towards him slowly and pulls the cloth off Steve’s head. “Open your eyes, please sweetheart. Open them and you’ll see me, see Eddie.”

Behind him he can hear someone else crying, can hear Joyce and Hopper whispering to each other and hear everyone not in the know try and figure out why Steve is freaking out. It doesn’t pull his attention away though, his vision is just on Steve.

He refuses to look away, actually.

Steve’s tears don’t stop, the rocking though is finally stopping, his arms are still tight around his knees but he moves his head up and slowly blinks. It takes a few minutes and Eddie can see when it finally clicks in Steve’s mind. His face is suddenly white and he tightens his arms again, “Ed-Eddie?”

Nodding, he shuffles a little closer, “Yeah Stevie, it’s me. You’re okay”

“No, no- I” Steve’s eyes are red and wide as his eyes jump from him to everyone behind him, “I need to go- I can’t- I can’t-”

Without any words he moves quickly, gets up and helps Steve up. Tucking him under his arm and pulls close, leading him away from the house and now the shouts from everyone else. Eddie ignores them too, focus on getting Steve away.

They end up at his new trailer.

Eddie takes a moment in the kitchen to calm himself down a bit more before picking up the mugs of tea and making his way back into his room where Steve is. He pushes the door open, a small smile on his face as he makes his way over.

Steve has the blankets pulled all the way to his chin, he’s staring at the wall with tears still streaming down his face but there’s no more sobs.

“I got us some tea” he raises the Garfield mug up, “got your favorite cup too”

It causes a wobbly smile and Eddie’ll call that a small victory. Steve lets the blankets fall down and takes the mug, blowing it before taking a small sip. Eddie follows his lead and does the same. Only moving just to get under the blankets, making sure to rest his legs touching Steve’s.

It’s quiet the only noises coming from outside, from the other residents enjoying the holiday.

Even though the tea is gone, Steve still has the mug in his hands. They’ve been in the trailer for two hours now. Eddie doesn’t want to push, but he’s also very concerned and wants to make sure that he’s okay.

“Stevie, are you okay?”

Steve rolls the mug in his hands as he shrugs, “I don’t know, that um, that’s never happened before”

He nods, tapping the mug and once Steve lets it go, grabs it and places it next to his own mug. Looking at Steve, he’s never seen such a defeated look on his face. It’s wrong and Eddie hates it.

“It’s o- well, it’s not okay. I’m sorry the boys were assholes. You don’t have to tell me, not right now. We can just sit here and skip out on the party.” He won’t make him explain it, not right now.

That’s not important currently, what’s important is making sure Steve feels okay and safe again.

Steve just leans against the wall, a sigh coming out of his mouth before he looks at him. “I, I got tortured last year. Um, I haven’t told anyone. It was-”

He shakes his head and pulls him close to hug him, “Steve- Stevie, you don’t have to talk about it right now. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, right now I just want you to calm down and make sure you’re okay”

Steve looks at him and blinks back tears before nearly crashing them down against the bed. He tucked his head against Eddie’s neck and wraps his arms around him. Eddie does the same and holds him, rubbing his back and squeezing him close.

They stay like that, until the tears are gone and they can hear muffled fireworks going off now. Eddie’s on his back now with Steve cuddled next to him, head on his chest.

It’s a lot more intimate than they normally are, they’ve shared a bed before several times, actually. They’re close and both crave touch, but never this close. There’s something different swirling around them.

“Eds?”

He hums out and continues on with the pattern he’s making against Steve’s back with his fingers, “yeah?”

“It’s my birthday” Steve whispers it, like it’s a secret.

He freezes, hand completely flat against Steve’s back now. His whole body goes nearly stiff under him, because what?

“What?”

Steve shrugs, moves slightly to look at him, “today, it’s my birthday. I um, I’m officially 20”

He blinks and sits up more, confusion all over his face, “You- you got tortured on your birthday?”

The only answer he gets is a nod, Steve shifts back to cuddle him. “Yeah, kept it to myself. They, everyone, doesn’t know.”

It makes his heart hurt hearing that Steve was tortured on his birthday and that they didn’t know. It’s only as that thought goes through his mind, that he goes over what Steve said.

“They know it’s your birthday, right?”

Steve shook his head, squeezing his arms and hiding his face. He can feel his shirt start to get damp, making itself known that Steve is tearing up again.

“Stevie, why don’t the-” he shakes his head, deciding questions aren’t needed right now. He doesn’t need explanations, actually.

Right now all he wants is to hug and keep this man safe.

Eventually the sounds of fireworks die out, soon just chirps from birds and the wind blowing against the trees, muffled sounds of people laughing is all the white noise they need to fall asleep, along with how comfortable they both are.

They’re also emotionally drained, Steve especially.

He feels warm, comfortable and safe. He cuddles his pillow more and freezes for a split second when it shifts. It takes another second to remember where he is, who he’s with and what happened.

Steve’s cheeks burn as he shifts to look at Eddie under him, he’s still asleep. Looks relaxed and soft, beautiful. It makes his heart start to beat a little faster.

Eddie starts to open his eyes and he squints at him, “Staring is creepy, Stevie”

Quickly he shifts away from him and looks everywhere but at Eddie. He feels the bed move and hopes Eddie isn’t about to kick him out for staring.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready to give up with the cuddles” Eddie whines, and Steve knows that if he looks he’ll find a pout on Eddie’s face.

He shakes his head and fights back the smile, “I’m sorry”

“Don’t say sorry, I want the Stevie cuddles.” Eddie smiles and moves closer, wrapping his arms around him, “come on, it’s like-“ he glanced at his alarm clock, “it’s four in the morning, let’s sleep, okay? I won’t accept any sorry or explanations until the sun is out and I have breakfast with my favorite person”

All Steve can do is nod his head, slowly moving with Eddie to lay back down.

It’s quiet, Steve can feel Eddie’s fingers doing twirls and lines against his back. It’s slowing down and Steve can tell Eddie’s falling back asleep.

It’s nice, this is wonderful maybe even perfect. Steve wonders if this is what it’d be like if they were in a relationship together. If Eddie is even more touchy, if the nicknames extend past the normal Stevie and sweetheart.

“I can hear you thinking, Stevie”

He freezes and looks up to see Eddie already looking towards him, “sorry?”

“No need to be sorry, just, why are you still awake?”

Looking away, he thinks about it. Really thinks about it and maybe, just maybe, he could be a little more vulnerable with Eddie. Thinks that of all the people to immediately act and help him, was Eddie. That he took him away from all the eyes and took him home, gave him tea and held him.

So, he can be a brave right now.

Moving, he sits up and brings Eddie with him. He’s confused but moves willingly. They’re just looking at each other and he needs another moment to get his mind set. Taking a deep breath, he grabs hold on Eddie’s hands.

“Eddie, I need to tell you something and I don’t want this to ruin anything between us. I really, really hope this doesn’t ruin it. Because you’re important to me. So please, just listen to me and promise you’ll still be here”

Eddie blinks, confused and concerned.

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

He nods and tightens his hands around Eddie’s before blowing out some air, “I, I thin- no, I know I love you. I’m in love with you, Eddie. For a while now but I was scared and worried that if I said that word, that I’d be left alone and you’d leave. But after what you did for me, I- I need you to know that I feel this way for you.”

It’s quiet and Steve can’t keep looking at Eddie as the time keeps passing by, he wants to bolt, wants to leave; needs to leave if Eddie stays quiet longer.

Feels like an eternity has passed before he feels Eddie’s hands on his face, as they move him to look at him. Makes him realize not only was he crying but Eddie’s tearing up now.

“Eddie I-”

“Don’t apologize, if that’s what you were going to do, please don’t apologize. Actually, stop apologizing to me today. I need you to realize I don’t need them, and I don’t need you thinking you have to leave, either.”

All he can do is shut his mouth, another sorry on the tip of his tongue. Eddie’s mouth tips to knowing smile, before he moves his hands down and around his neck.

“Stevie, I’m going to kiss you now. Okay?”

This is not where he thought he’d end up, but as Eddie smiles again before coming in close. He’ll take it.

He’s imagined kissing Eddie, of course. Has had dreams that woke him up needing a cold shower, had a million thoughts and wants, but it has nothing on actually kissing him.

The first kiss is salty from tears, it’s soft despite the chapped lips. It’s everything and more. His favorite part isn’t the kiss itself, though this will become addicting eventually, no his favorite part is Eddie resting his forehead against his own and the quick kiss to his nose before pulling back with a smile and, “I’m in love with you too, honey love”

Steve matches that smile, feeling high and happy. So happy, he immediately wraps his arms around Eddie in a joyful hug with tears and laughter. “I love you so much, Eddie”

They spend the rest of the night curled together. The next morning will be filled with more laughter, kisses and cuddles. Eventually they’ll talk about what happened, those explanations will be needed and heard. Someday, in the future, Steve will be honest with everyone and tell them what he went to.

For now, they’re settled on the couch lazily making out. Everything else put on hold, they deserve a lazy day together.

— —

UH, this was supposed to be a short hurt/comfort thing for the 4th of July, but it uhhhh got away from me? Like really got away. Anyway, i hope you enjoyed it! If you saw any mistakes let me know!!

Quick shout out to @i-less-than-three-you for helping out with this! Thanks for listening to me talk myself into this and then help with some of the plot )she came up with Steve’s birthday idea 😈) so thank you and I love you 🩷

Permanent tag list: (if you want to be added let me know!!)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington angst #nburkhardt writes #Steve x eddie #stranger things fic #Steve Harrington fic #Eddie Munson fic #Steve x eddie fic

526 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Note

Hello ❤️ I know you’re back home and I think are doing these on an as-you-can basis. If you’re just completely done, let me know! But I got in my feelings today about always being the third wheel and of course my brain wants to whump Steve about it, so here’s two lines from a conversation I had with a friend:

“When do I stop being a last resort?”

And

“When will I get people who care the way I care?”

Again, if you’re not doing these any more, that’s completely fine! Just thought I’d submit these in case you are. Feel free to use one or the other, or both! ❤️

Hello my star ✨ I am technically not doing them, but it kinda sounds like we both maybe need this one and I'm gonna use this a lowkey plug for everyone to consider participating in the @steddiemicrofic challenge. I'm going with the first one because I believe that even at Steve's lowest, he knows he has Robin to care about him a whole lot ❤️

----------

When the dust settles, when everyone seems to find a new rhythm, when they don't always look over their shoulder and wait for the next world-ending crisis, Steve finds himself alone a lot.

When Robin leaves for college, he finds himself alone most of the time.

The kids are back in school, everyone except Jonathan and Eddie have gone off to college, and those two seem to get along just fine without Steve inserting himself into their friendship.

They still come hang out with him sometimes, usually when they wanna rent a movie using his discount, or if Eddie wants to borrow his dining room for Hellfire.

The worst part is he says yes, puts a smile on his face, pretends he's happy just to get some attention, any attention.

And he is a little happy. Some attention is better than none, especially for a lonely person like him.

He watched everyone around him have each other, while he has himself.

He talks to Robin every other night, but he feels like he's burdening her, but would never say that. He just waits for her to stop answering the calls.

It all comes to a head one evening when Eddie is over at his house late, still cleaning up after Hellfire.

Steve had a bad week at work, customers just being rude over nothing, a migraine two days in a row, and now Eddie dragging his feet to leave.

The worst part? He didn't want him to leave.

Just the thought of another night alone had him tearing up.

He made sure to stay facing away from Eddie, unable to stop the tears from falling, but at least able to stay quiet.

Not quiet enough.

"Steve? What's wrong?"

He sounded so concerned.

"Nothing. Just a little overtired. Head still hurts a little. You know how it is."

He couldn't quite laugh it off, the sound more of a choked sob than anything.

Eddie's hands were on his shoulders, turning him around so he had no choice but to look at him, his worried gaze more than Steve expected.

"What's actually wrong?"

So much.

"When do I stop being a last resort?"

He hadn't meant to say that. He certainly didn't expect Eddie's reaction: pulling him close to his chest, his grip on his back and hair enough to make Steve sink into it.

He hadn't been hugged since Robin left for college.

"What do you mean? You're not a last resort."

"I'm no one's first choice. You only come here because I have the most room. The kids only ever call if they need a ride somewhere. I think at this point Robin only talks to me so she knows I'm alive."

The words were hard to get out but he did it. He felt slightly better just knowing he'd said them.

"Fuck. We've- I've been so stupid."

Steve pulled away.

"I just thought you wanted your space. We're done fighting monsters, so you can go back to just being Steve Harrington. I don't think any of us thought you still wanted to be around us. But we've taken what we thought we could get."

"What? Why would anyone think that?"

"Because you only got involved in all this protect people. Now you don't have to."

"I protected everyone because I cared. Why would I just stop caring?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds stupid."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"Because it is stupid."

"So you do want us around?"

"Yes! I thought no one wanted me around anymore since they didn't need me."

Eddie shook his head, disappointment settling over him.

"That's so far from the truth. Dustin was upset the other day because he was convinced you were going to start telling him no when he asked for rides and he didn't know how else to see you."

Steve let it sink in, the words and the way Eddie still hadn't let go of him completely, still had his hands resting on his lower back as Steve looked up at him.

"For a smart kid, he sure is dumb."

Eddie laughed loudly, smiling down at Steve as some of the tension released from his body.

"I guess we all are."

"Including me."

"You're very loved, Steve. By all of us."

"All of you?"

"Yes. All."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon

422 notes · View notes

frazzledsoul · 2 months

Text

The primary reason Lorelai prefers Dean to Rory's other boyfriends (to the point where it seems that Lorelai is enjoying the relationship far more than Rory is) is because Dean is so controlling and demands that Rory spend every waking moment with him, to the point where she doesn't have time for any outside interests or friends. Rory can't be swayed by the rich kids at Chilton or their hard-partying lifestyle that got Lorelai in trouble if Dean monopolizes all her time (the only person she socializes with there is Paris, another outcast). Her only real friend at Stars Hollow High is Lane, another sheltered only child with a highly constricted social life. Rory is constantly negotiating with Dean to get him to go to events, because he doesn't want her to go alone or to spend time with other people. Much of their time is spent just hanging out with Lorelai, with Dean as a sidekick to Rory and Lorelai's domestic routines. Dean keeps Rory's world small, tied to Lorelai and Stars Hollow, with no room to contemplate life outside of the bubble that Lorelai created. He heavily micromanages Rory's social life and Lorelai likes that, to the point where she is constantly encouraging Rory to not do anything to upset him, to anticipate his wrath, to forget about her attraction to Jess who she tells her doesn't really like her because he moved onto Shane when Rory wouldn't take him seriously as an option. She needs to stay with Dean to make Lorelai happy, because Rory (unwisely) views her as having better judgment in romantic matters and she wants to please her mom.

Jess is a threat because he reminds Lorelai of the person she was when she was a teenager, wild and rebellious and itching to escape from the life she didn't want. Jess is not made for Stars Hollow: he represents all of the art and the literature and the worldly adventures that Rory dreams of experiencing someday. He's a force that's going to pull her away, and Rory is sexually and intellectually attracted to him, having outgrown the safety of her tightly controlled relationship with her dimwitted beanpole of a boyfriend. Jess doesn't want to be part of Stars Hollow life, he wants his time with Rory to be with her only, and if she wants to do the cheesy town stuff that's cool with him because he doesn't seek to control her every waking moment. He can have his interests and she can have hers and their time alone can belong to them and both Lorelai and Rory...have a hard time adjusting to this. There's definitely some middle ground to be had here, but Jess doesn't want to do what Stars Hollow expects him to do because they hate him anyway and I'm pretty sure Rory was his first serious girlfriend, so he was out of his depth even if he wanted to conform...and he was too emotionally damaged to be much good to anyone at that point anyway. That said, Rory does seem to make an effort to socialize the most among the Stars Hollow crew while they are together and do her own Chilton stuff, so maybe it was in her best interest not to be tied to someone who insisted on controlling every single thing she did.

Logan is a mixed bag, because prior to getting involved with him Rory was alone for an entire year and hated it. She struggles at the paper, doesn't make any real friends at Yale except for Marty, comes home every weekend, and eventually gets involved with Dean again because she wants to relive her youth before realizing they actually don't have anything in common. She's sucked in by Logan's lifestyle and his hard-partying ways but she hasn't really let herself be involved in this kind of thing before, so she enjoys it until she doesn't. Logan doesn't actively seek to control her, she's always there by choice, and he never tells her she can't hang out with other people or do things on her own...but she still gets subsumed by him because it's what her primary experience of being a girlfriend is. When Jess goes to find her in Hartford, she has no idea of what to do in the city because even though she's lived there for six months, she still defaults to doing what her boyfriend wants to do.

I think this does get better in the seventh season, because she did gain a little bit of independence after she got back together with Logan, but also because he's elsewhere, his entire supporting cast of characters isn't around, and she's forced to make friends on her own and deal with things that don't revolve around her significant other. (Also, their relationship is relatively stable, so even though there is tension with Marty and Lucy, it's not really an insurmountable obstacle). She seems to have learned by that point it's okay to argue with your partner and not have it be the end of the world and to have parts of your life that don't revolve around him, either.

Of course, that is not ASP, even if it was something that needed to happen. It seems that the patterns set up early with Dean and Lorelai controlled Rory's life for a long time and negatively influenced how she interacted with the other guys. Remove AYITL from the equation (yes, please) and it puts Rory in a position to reconcile with Jess on the campaign trail or afterwards, because she's finally able to entertain the thought of maintaining an independent existence while being part of a couple.

#meta #rory gilmore #not sure where i was going with this but whatever #gilmore girls #anti dean forester #jess mariano #logan huntzberger

131 notes · View notes

robotic-rin · 6 months

Text

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!!

#beetlejuice x reader #musical!beetlejuice x reader #musical beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x you #beetlejuice x gn!reader #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice #reader insert #smut #i’m back in the fucking building again ?!?#fun fact i had to go thru and manually italicize everything in both the ao3 and tumblr text editor #bc i couldn’t figure out how to make the formatting carry over #so. this fic was hand stitched with love basically #my fics

162 notes · View notes