hoodoo12
I write
18+ because I write smut.
You'll find naughty stories in various fandoms here.
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Lena’s Corner
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"What is that? A third nipple?"
Instead of a laugh, or boasting, or returned teasing, Beetlejuice folded in on himself, a little, and mumbled something you couldn't quite hear.
The light tone of your voice dropped away. "Beej? You okay? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he lied. His shoulders hunched, he twisted bodily away from you.
You bit your lip. This was the first you'd seen him shirtless, and making a dumb joke to lighten the mood had backfired. Spectacularly. He was obviously embarrassed.
"Hey," you said, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry. That was super rude of me."
Beetlejuice shrugged. It was as convincing as his earlier one word response.
Stroking his skin instead of tightening your grip, you tried again. "Beej . . . you never say anything bad about me. About the stuff on my body that I don't like."
The focus suddenly not on him but you made him pick his head up and attempt to interrupt. Holding your hands palm up, you talked over him.
"No. Listen. I'm sorry I made a joke. I'm sorry I said something that hurt you." Beetlejuice started to shrink again. You grabbed his hands and squeezed them. "You are allowed to not like what I said. You are allowed to be angry or hurt or embarrassed or anything thing else. You are allowed to not accept my apology!"
The specter's brow furrowed, as if he was trying to make things add up in his head. When he finally lifted his eyes, he still had a kicked-dog expression. "But . . . I do accept your apology. I'm sorry that I have this, this thing--"
He used his chin to point to his chest. You interrupted him again, more forcefully.
"Do not apologize for part of your body!"
Beetlejuice pinched his lips together. Then he nodded. Then he pulled you into a rib-crushing hug. It dawned on you he'd never been told what he looked like was fine. He'd never been accepted as he was.
You hugged him back just as tightly.
here's a quick titt and hole BJ to make our evening better (or worse depending on why you follow me) after.... that
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Sweet (Wet) Dreams
Someone on ao3 made a comment on Beetlejuice being a creep watching women sleep. How could I turn that delicious idea away?
NSFW, Beetlejuice/f!reader. Basically PWP.
Keep reading
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IT'S HERE IT'S HERE
LFG
Deadpool & Wolverine | Trailer
youtube
Found the guy who killed Bambi’s mom. ❤️💛
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Beetlejuice poll
all right fans, put on your thinking caps
A situation has come up in an rp that has me scratching my head.
Everyone knows that you have to say Beetlejuice's name three times to summon him. But what if someone is mute? Can they sign "Beetlejuice" or finger spell his name and it works? What if they're deaf and they can't pronounce it? Would writing down his name and reading it be enough for him to appear?
I have my own opinions on it, but am interested other's thought and the possibilities that could come of it.
#beetlejuice#poll#head canons#there may be a lot of leeway#or maybe not!#there *might* be a story that comes of this . . .
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Not sure if you’ve seen this, but the line entered my brain & sounds like something Beetlejuice would either say or go NUTS if someone said it to him:
“Your outfit looks like shit. It might look halfway decent on my bedroom floor.”
He WOULD go nuts then immediately pop a boner
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The movie I'm most excited for this year
Hugh got his nails done for this.
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melancholia
These past two weeks have been difficult. Beetlejuice is . . . well, Beetlejuice, but he can comfort.
SWF
There was a knock at your door.
You ignored it.
Whoever was out there ignored your ignoring, and in the next moment you felt Beetlejuice’s presence at the side of your bed. You didn’t turn over to face him.
“Babes, you’ve been in here for like, nine days.”
You knew that. You didn’t have the energy to respond.
You couldn’t hear him move anywhere in the room. Of course, you didn’t hear the door open or close either; one thing that you had to get used to was the fact he wasn’t bound by conventional things like walls or doors or personal space. He was at your back, and then suddenly, he was in front of you.
He crouched down and looked you in the face. You half met his gaze, and half let your eyes grow vacant. You saw him frown.
“Babes, I’ve missed you.”
You wanted to miss him too, but the weight holding you down crushed most emotion out too. You felt flattened and dull.
Beetlejuice’s hand brushed against your forehead and into your hair. He didn’t push too hard, fortunately; you knew he felt the solid mass of uncombed, unwashed hair under his fingers. You hated it, but you couldn’t even fathom doing anything like simply combing it. It was beyond you.
His hand pulled away. You thought he’d leave you now. It was what you expected. It was what you deserved.
But he only examined you again. Through your half-lidded eyes you saw that there was an odd mixture of colors deep in his hair: purples and blues, with a rare streak of red. The overall color of it was dark. It was a combination you’d never seen before. You wished you’d cataloged what each color meant, like you’d planned to do previously. It was too late for that now, and you thought it would be rude to ask him.
“You haven’t been up for a while, have you baby?” Beetlejuice asked very quietly.
You managed to shake your head. Your neck was sore, and you hated that just responding with an answer he obviously already knew made tears well up in your eyes.
You watched him worry his lower lip with sharp teeth. He paused like he was going to say something else, but didn’t.
In the next second, with no warning, he was gone.
If asked, you would have said you didn’t want company. You hadn’t changed your clothes in days. Your joints ached. You were passed being hungry. You knew you were poor company. But now that he was gone, it felt even worse to be alone. The tears that flooded your eyes fell, and you wept silently into your pillow.
You don’t know how long you cried. Time stretched like taffy. You lay with your eyes open, staring at nothing, with your cheek on a damp spot on your pillow.
You didn’t flinch when a hand took your shoulder.
Gently, you were pulled to your back.
“Come on, baby,” Beetlejuice said.
You wanted to ask what he meant. You were in no shape to go anywhere. But instead of waiting for an answer, he simply slipped an arm under your shoulders and the other under your knees, and picked you up.
You hadn’t really moved much lately, and it hurt. You’d have fought against him, but you were too drained.
It was easy to forget that Beetlejuice was stronger than he looked. He carried you easily out of the bedroom, bridal style, and even made sure not to hit your head on the doorframe. That had happened previously, in sillier times, when you and he were fooling around. It almost made you smile to remember times like that.
He didn’t care that your clothes were filthy and you were just overall grungy. You’d never cared that he was more on the grimy side than not; in fact, at least now the two of you kind of matched.
So you never expected him to take you directly to the bathroom.
Inside the small tiled room, the shower was already running. There was steam on the mirror, which made you glad because then you couldn’t see yourself. Carefully, Beetlejuice set you down. Your knees gave out, however, and he held on to you to keep you upright.
“Let’s take a shower, baby.”
In the state you were in, you didn’t know you were capable of surprise. Beetlejuice had never, ever suggested bathing. You’d sort of wondered if he had a phobia of water, or if he melted like the Wicked Witch of the West, or if being dirty was some kind of demon status symbol, or something.
“What?” you managed to croak.
He gestured towards the shower.
“You. Me. Shower.”
You had to be hallucinating. But during your lack of response, Beetlejuice dropped his jacket and loosened his tie. He shrugged out of his suspenders, letting them hang down from his waist, and went to work on the chipped buttons of his shirt. Your fingers ached, so there was no way you could even begin to undress, even though you were a bit intrigued.
When Beetlejuice realized you were still just standing, he stopped.
“Well this is stupid,” he announced.
You couldn’t agree more. Now you could get back into bed.
With barely a nod, both you and he were nude in a blink. That did finally make you flinch a little, and Beetlejuice gathered you against him. Then, before you could move or say anything or think, you were both under the showerhead.
The water was the perfect temperature, not too hot and not too cold. Somehow Beetlejuice made it just right, despite his self-admitted lack of human body temperature. He sputtered a bit under the spray, gasping for air as if he hadn’t realized he could breathe while getting splashed in the face. He looked more surprised than you felt, even though it had been his idea.
He didn’t fuss much more than that, however. Instead, he focused on you.
He made sure you were appropriately wet. He found shampoo and put too much of it in your hair, then massaged it and your scalp with his slightly ragged fingernails. They pulled a bit, but felt okay in a good way. He repeated the process until the water ran clear. Then he applied conditioner to your hair, and let it sit while he lathered up a washcloth.
Beetlejuice paid the same attention to the rest of you as he did your dirty hair. He washed every inch of your skin from head to feet, lifting your arms to get underneath them and helping steady you when he bumped your knee so you’d stand on one foot to get between your toes.
He never made it uncomfortable or suggested anything saucy; he just cleaned you.
By the time he was done, the conditioner was gone from your hair, leaving it feeling slick and soft.
The amount of soap he used cleaned his hands and forearms, by default. When you pointed it out to him, he seemed surprised again, then gave you a crooked grin and asked if he should continue, or if you wanted to help?
So you took the washcloth, wrung out a majority of the remaining suds, and copied what he’d done to you. By the time you were done, his pale skin was almost luminescent. Some spots where you had to scrub a little harder to get some particularly deep crud off of him were reddish. His cheeks were red too, but that was more a blush than anything else.
You washed his hair too. Instead of being a solid color as most hair was when wet, it still retained locks of color. The blues were gone; in there place were streaks of various pinks and the undertone of green that was close to normal. Under your fingers you still found the occasional red. You would have to ask him about that later.
Once all the suds on both of you were washed away, Beetlejuice pressed his forehead to yours. He reached around you to turn the water off, and the bathroom suddenly sounded very quiet without the shower running.
With his hair plastered flat on his head, Beetlejuice looked a little deflated, a little like the stereotypical drowned rat. You giggled but checked yourself before announcing that out loud; he would take it literally and you had no desire to actually receive a waterlogged rodent as a well-meaning but kind of gross gift.
He beamed at your little laugh. Just as you’d been spirited into the shower, you were spirited out of it too, and found yourself swaddled in a thick towel and robe. They didn’t look familiar. You didn’t care. Quickly but gently your hair was combed. The conditioner helped loosen the knots, and Beetlejuice was overly careful about not pulling it.
Out of nowhere you found a toothbrush with a dab of paste on it in your hand. Automatically you went through the motions of brushing your teeth.
While you brushed your teeth, Beetlejuice shook himself like a dog, re-spraying you with droplets of water and making you laugh in protest before drying himself off too. His hair stuck out a little more wildly than normal, drooping at the ends from the water still in it. Quickly he wiped himself dry, wrapped another towel around his waist, and lead you back to your bedroom.
It’d been straightened. Not perfectly; mostly things on the floor had been pushed closer to the walls so there was space to walk. Enough tidiness to be noticeable. The soiled sheets on your bed had been removed and replaced with fresher ones. The bed wasn’t made, though, all the new sheets and blankets were still in a messy pile at the foot of the bed.
“Clones. They do their best, but without direct supervision …” Beetlejuice explained a little sheepishly, his voice trailing off before completing the sentence.
You managed a smile.
You were still tired. The warm water had eased some of the aches in your body, but they weren’t gone completely. As he gently disrobed you and helped you back into the bed, drawing the top sheet and blanket to cover you up, Beetlejuice said,
“Get some real rest, baby. When you wake up we’ll get some food in you, okay?”
For a second you had a flash of panic.
“Don’t leave me!” you begged.
Immediately, towel still around him and dripping hair and all, Beetlejuice clambered onto the mattress and under the blankets beside you. He pulled you against him, nothing inappropriate, nothing sexual, just his damp chest against your skin, holding you tightly. He didn’t whisper nonsense words to you. He didn’t say anything. His actions this entire time spoke volumes, however.
You were able to follow his instructions, though, and the last thing you saw before you fell into a real sleep was his hair was once again a soft green. He was content, and you settled closer to him with a little more peace of mind as well.
fin
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Touch
These past two weeks have been difficult. Despite Beetlejuice being well, Beetlejuice, he can still comfort me.
SFW
“Lay down.”
“Move your hands.”
“I said, move your hands.”
You’d agreed to let Beetlejuice have control tonight, but were beginning to regret it. He hadn’t been mean, per se, but had taken on a colder aloofness that was unexpected and something that you weren’t sure you liked.
If you’d been asked, you’d have bet that he’d just want something raunchy and hardcore. But instead he’d given you direct, succinct orders while he stood looking down at you. You wished you could have taken a clue about how he was actually feeling by his hair color, but it’d been its typical dark-shot-through-with-green, so that was no help at all.
He’d also told you to keep your eyes closed, and you were afraid he’d do something like blindfold you if you peeked.
Beetlejuice had asked you to disrobe. When you balked, he at least allowed you to turn out the lights first. You heard the amusement in his voice, and you remembered that he had once mentioned that as a demon he could see in the dark. But it made you feel better.
So the lights were out, and he’d continued to give you instructions. Now you were on your back, hands at your sides instead of over your stomach, eyes shut–-although if you opened them you wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway–-and you sensed rather than felt Beetlejuice was leaning over you.
You jumped when his chilly hand stroked your arm. Although he was giving you simple orders, he apparently didn’t feel the need to tell you what he was planning.
He ignored your flinch, and repeated the motion.
It felt nice, those long leisurely touches. One hand followed the other, like an endless loop, and it relaxed you. It felt good on your arms, and your lower legs, and your shoulders, even on your collarbones, but when his attention turned to parts of you that you weren’t incredibly happy with, you tensed.
Beetlejuice tsk’ed as your hands automatically went to cover those particular areas as he touched them, starting with your thighs.
“Hands down, babe.”
Reluctantly you complied. What he’d done so far had been good, so you worked hard to let him continue. With patience you never imagined he had, Beetlejuice massaged your thighs until you were mostly relaxed again.
Unfortunately, the whole process started over when his hands went to your stomach. You almost folded in the middle but his hands had warmed up enough you couldn’t blame your reaction on them being too cold.
“Hands,” was all he had to say to remind you what he expected of you.
This time you had to grip the sheets below you to keep them from trying to cover “a problem area” as the fashion magazines called it. And it took you even longer to relax, but Beetlejuice didn’t rush anything; he simply continued to stroke your skin with even movements.
When you were finally loose and drifting from the attention, his hand dragged itself up your chest–the closest he got to an erogenous zone–and somehow he was suddenly able to twist enough to massage the sides of your head with both hands. His fingers ran from your forehead to your temples and down along your jawline to your chin.
There was no way he missed you clenching your teeth tightly.
At least this time you left your hands at your sides.
“Shh,” he whispered.
With effort you kept your eyes screwed shut and you lay still, even though you wanted to shake his hands off you. He must have understood that this was difficult for you, so his touch became lighter, even though he didn’t stop.
His fingers stroked the fine bones in your brow, and followed them under your eyes. He applied a bit more pressure to your temples until your jaw loosened, then used sweeping pulls on the soft tissue of your cheeks and on your forehead to relax you more.
Despite the fact you never really wanted anyone to purposefully touch areas you didn’t particularly like, it felt nice.
You could tell he when he was almost finished when he simply held your face in his hands for several moments. Before you could say anything, Beetlejuice murmured,
“Thank you.”
Thank you? You hadn’t done anything!
“I like being able to touch you,” he continued quietly. “Your skin is soft. My hands aren’t cold now, and it’s because of you. It makes me happy that you trust me enough to touch your warm, beautiful body.”
Your eyes had adjusted to the dark and you could see some of him, sitting on the bed near your head. Details were washed out though. Once again you wondered what color his hair was. But it didn’t really matter.
You raised a hand and caught one of his. You pressed a kiss into his palm and his fingers jerked; you’d surprised him like he had you tonight. Even in the dark–-or maybe because of it; he was a demon after all–-the smile that crossed his face was visible to you.
You returned it gladly.
fin
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"If it's not sopping wet and squelching, you're not doing it right."
Your version of Beetlejuice looks like he gives great oral sex except it’s like super messy and makes loud squelching noises and it’s like kinda gross in a weird way but incredibly satisfying and amazing at the same time…
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NO REGRETS!
Live your life like Beetlejuice. Take chances and take pride in what you do!
This is delightful and much much needed after this hell-on-earth week I've been through. Thanks @bjfinn!
THAT'S THE WAY THE COOKIE CRUMBLES
based on an idea by @hoodoo12
[The interior of a Crumbl Cookies store. BEETLEJUICE enters, looking around and scowling.]
LYDIA (off camera)
Welcome to Crumbl Cookies. (Softly, to herself ) Where is everyone?
BEEJ (sneering)
I don't think I like this place.
LYDIA
Okay, I know the decor is a little ... bland --
BEEJ
A little???
LYDIA
-- but they've got great cookies.
[BEETLEJUICE harrumphs and continues to look around.]
BEEJ
So where are they? (Yelling loudly) Hey! Where are you guys? There's customers, you know!
LYDIA
Beej!
BEEJ
What? All I want is some service! (He shakes his head in contempt.) Good help is so hard to find these days. (He turns around and sees the display of cookie boxes.) Oh God slash Satan! (He retches comically.)
LYDIA
What? What's wrong?
BEEJ
Pink!
LYDIA
What's wrong with pink?
BEEJ (angrily)
I hate pink! Pink is the colour of weakness! Pink is the colour of --
LYDIA
Your hair goes pink when you get complimented.
BEEJ
I know! And I hate it! It's so embarrassing! (With a loud growl he sweeps the stack of boxes off the shelf and starts stomping on them.) Pink is a stupid colour! It's not red, it's not white -- it's just ... AAARRRGGGHHH!
LYDIA (firmly)
Beej, stop it!
[He turns and looks at her, breathing heavily and glaring.]
BEEJ (grinning evilly)
I can make this place better!
LYDIA
Beej, no -- don't do anything you'll regret later!
BEEJ (shaking his head, a dangerous glint in his eye)
I'm not gonna regret anything!
[BEETLEJUICE snaps his fingers, and everything goes black for a second. When the light returns, the interior of the store has black and white stripes on the walls and counter elevations, and the wooden countertops are now purple. BEETLEJUICE, smiling happily, is wearing a black-and-white striped tuque, and is holding a plate of sugar cookies -- they're frosted with a swirl of black and white icing, and decorated with green and purple sprinkles.]
LYDIA (tasting one of the cookies)
Mmm! These are really good!
BEEJ (proudly)
See -- what'd I tell you? No regrets!
#beetlejuice#other people's fine writing#on 2nd thought maybe don't live like Beetlejuice#or take advice from him#there'd be a lot of misdemeanors (or felonies) in your future
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I know you've done oral headcanons before but what about beej recieving? Female reader but idm
Thanks for the ask! Head (lol) canons are fun.
NSFW, Beetlejuice/f! and Beetlejuice/gender neutral reader
Beetlejuice receiving? Oh my. He’s gonna lose his shit.
Movie:
He acts like it’s expected, including verbal nudges like, “it ain’t gonna suck itself” and “put that pretty mouth of yours to good use”
Physical nudges include bodily forcing you to your knees in front of him and grabbing your jaw to force your mouth open
That’s his favorite position
Especially if you’re topless, so he can see your tits bounce
On a mattress, on your back with your head over the edge is good too
You better be able to repress that gag reflex, because he’s going to test it. One, there’s nothing he likes better than deep-throating you, and getting any extra millimeter he can into your mouth is his goal. Two, this guy is dead. He’s been dead long enough there’s not a ton of rot left, but he is mossy and gross and he doesn’t care
He likes to hear you gag, though
Better have some type of ‘safe-word’ signal. He knows breathers need to, well, breathe, but he likes to “forget” several seconds past what your lungs may say is too long
When he’s not staying balls’ deep in your mouth, he’s fucking your mouth hard. Those balls’ll be slapping your chin--or forehead, depending on what position he’s decided he wants you
Suction is good--everybody likes that--but he’s fine with doing most of the work and using your mouth like it’s just a personal toy
He likes it when there’s so much spit you can’t swallow that it just hangs in ribbons down your chin. Especially if it slicks your tits
At the end, he’s willing to pull out partially to come on your tongue, but you better be willing to swallow! If you’re thinking of not, he’s going to pull out and paint your face with his come. He likes an open mouth like you just can’t wait for it. Like at the beginning, he’s more than eager to grab your jaw and crank your mouth open to his satisfaction
He may not thank you, but he will return the favor. Not grudgingly, either!
Musical:
You’re willing to go down on him? He’s excited
So excited in fact that the first few (dozen) times, he’s not going to last long
You’ve got to build up his tolerance so he doesn’t blow his load almost immediately
Sixty-nine is right out; he’s too eager
Before he’s better at holding himself together, he’s semi-ashamed and apologies profusely for just coming unexpectedly in your mouth (or on your face, if he’s that worked up)
You learn that it’s better if he’s sitting or laying down. He lasts longer that way
It’s also better to go slowly, instead of hard and fast. Take him in bit by bit so he can adjust to the sensations of his cock in the varying pressure of your mouth, then surprise him with a few quicker movements just to keep him on his toes
He’ll try not to face-fuck you, but sometimes he gets too eager and pops his hips anyway. After a while, he believes you when you tell him you don’t mind
He does, however, like to shove his fingers through your hair and hold your head, even if he’s not directing your movements
Using your hand on him--holding him by the base of his cock, so you can use your mouth to focus on the head--makes him squirm. One thing that’ll always make him come fast is actively jerking him off while sucking him
Wet and sloppy? Yes please. Soak him in your spit. Make him soggy and leave a wet spot below him; he loves it
If he’s sitting and you’re between his legs, give his balls a little attention. He didn’t realize how much he’d like that too. The first time you licked his sack and gently sucked one of his balls between your lips, he jerked like he’d touched a live wire and you ended up supporting his legs with his thighs on your shoulders and your head squeezed between them
When he gets close to finishing, he’s always a little frantic
He likes to come in your mouth, but always seemed worried that’s too much. Too forward. Too intimate.
If you pin him with your eyes, though, holding direct eye contact with him while his cock is in your mouth, that’ll send him over the edge
It’ll take him a few moments to pull himself together, but he’ll make sure you’re okay and then be more than willing to go down on you for round two
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You barely got into the resurrection-at-the-Marquis Theatre makeup!
Ok is it just me, or has Alex Brightman's Beetlejuice hair and makeup NEVER looked the same way twice?
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