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somedaylazysomeday · 6 months

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A Deal With a Demon - Part Four

You try to help Beetlejuice set up the store's information, but you both get a little distracted.

Beetlejuice x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 4100

Warnings: References to demons and witchcraft, background references to a sex shop, oral sex (fem receiving), coming untouched.

Previous | Masterlist

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You took a deep breath in through your nose, reveling in the rush of it: Halloween. Or, as witches knew it, All Hallows’ Eve.

Witches with a strong connection to nature got a little more out of the solstices - dark and light at winter and spring, respectively - but All Hallows’ Eve was more egalitarian.

It was a magical time for everyone, really. The changing leaves were just at their most vibrant and the skies stretched a pale blue overhead. The crisp chill of fall gave each breath a hint of spice and the ground felt solid as iron beneath your booted feet. Spices from baked treats and flavored drinks filled the air. The world seemed to be simultaneously holding its breath and flinging itself vicariously through every moment.

The magic was growing stronger. It felt like you were tapping into the power without any effort at all, and the energy danced over your skin like a series of tingling electric shocks.

Your senses were heightened, too. Your sight (and Sight) was improved, and you could hear even the faintest sound with clarity. A thousand invisible textures danced under your fingertips, and you could smell anything in the neighborhood from your home.

Which was why you hardly needed Beetlejuice to voice his complaints aloud: “This is so boring.”

“You’re the one who decided to start a small business,” you pointed out, watching the leaves flutter past the open window. It was far more relaxing than focusing on the pouting pleasure demon in your living room or the intimidating number of forms spread around your ancient laptop.

When you sensed that Beetlejuice was getting ready to launch another complaint, you gave him a stern look. “And you’re the one who decided that hypnotizing someone to give you a business license was better than doing all of the paperwork.”

“It is better,” he muttered mutinously. “So why are we doin’ all-a this?”

“Because,” you explained again, “if someone goes to dig up information about the store - and they will - everything needs to be legitimate.”

Maybe the explanation was harsher than was strictly necessary, but this was the dozenth time you had delivered it. You had run out of patience several hours before and relied on magical means instead. When Beetlejuice’s expression went pouty yet again, you drained what was left of the calming potion at your elbow. Well, technically, second calming potion. You had chugged the first to keep from committing murder against a being who was already dead.

Wait. Were demons technically alive even though they had never been born? And if they couldn’t be said to be alive, they could hardly be dead, either. Maybe demons existed somewhere outside of the alive/dead dichotomy.

You shook off the philosophical musings as Beetlejuice started muttering to himself.

That was certainly enough of that. You weren’t about to let a petulant demon ruin your day, especially not All Hallows’ Eve. “Beetlejuice.”

The demon in question flinched violently at your use of his name. When he saw the sternness on your face, he seemed to settle in for work. “Okay, fine, let’s do paperwork. But I’m not gonna be excited about it.”

“Noted,” you said dryly. “Luckily for you, I’ve done most of the hard work myself. I just need some information about dates and where the funding is supposedly from. And we need to pick a new name.”

“Ooh, a new name,” Beetlejuice said, instantly distracted by that. “What were ya thinkin’? I know I said you could change it, but I kinda like the one we got now...”

“No, it needs to be changed,” you reminded him. “If for no other reason than that it’s not very sexy.”

Beetlejuice looked offended, baring greenish teeth at that. “Are you sayin’ my name’s not sexy, toots?”

“It’s not,” you confirmed, but hurried to offer more of an explanation. “But only because the customers haven’t met you yet. You’re not sexy because of your name; the name is sexy because of you.”

“Oh.” He visibly relaxed. “That’s true. I am pretty irresistible.”

You glanced at a spare piece of paper, hiding a smile. If Beetlejuice was always going to be this easily managed, maybe there was hope for this store. “I have a few ideas written down if you want to take a look. Let me know if there are any that stand out.”

“Boring,” Beetlejuice announced, scorching a hole through the first name with his fingertip. He continued down the list even as the edges of the first hole continued to smoke and curl. “Overused. Stupid. Boring. Boring. Boring.”

By your count, that was all of the names you had written. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to find a new copy of that particular form…”

“It needs to be something catchy,” Beetlejuice said, ignoring you and tossing the paper away in favor of framing an imaginary sign in the air. You did your best to listen as you scrambled to pick up the smoldering paper before it caught anything on fire. “It needs to snap, ya know? Grab your attention. But still be somethin’ we can work with. The name can’t overpower the store itself. Otherwise, it’s like… Ya know when you meet the worst, most boring person, but they’ve got a name like… like…”

“Beetlejuice?” you supplied dryly.

He pointed a blackened fingernail at you. “Watch it, babes. That’s two digs at my name and two times you’ve used it. I’m gonna start taking it personally.”

“Wish you’d take your business seriously,” you quipped, only partially joking.

“That’s it,” he growled, eyes flashing in a way that felt more like an animal’s eyes at night than a person. Honestly, deer should have come to mind given your typical life experiences, but all you could think of was a crocodile. “I’m done listenin’ to this kind of abuse.”

“Is there a different kind you’d prefer?” you asked, betting on the fact that Beetlejuice hadn’t seen enough old movies to be familiar with the joke.

Sure enough, it took him a moment to work through that, but after he had finished absorbing it, his stained fingertips shot out in your direction. The grasp on your upper arm wasn’t tight, but it was… odd. Beetlejuice’s hands didn’t have the right amount of give in them, not like a normal person’s.

Before you could be swept away in another round of philosophical musings about demons, Beetlejuice used that grip to pull you toward himself.

You watched, fascinated as his figure grew larger in your perspective, then he was gone. It wasn’t until your hands and knees hit the floor that you realized he had let you go mid-pull, flinging you past himself and onto the ground.

“What the fuck?” you demanded.

At the same time, Beetlejuice asked, “What the fuck?”

While you were glaring at him, the demon was staring down at his own hands, studying them like he would see something moving beneath his pale, dirt-stained skin.

You took a moment to collect yourself, making sure nothing was broken, sprained, or otherwise damaged. With that done, you tried to demand to know why Beetlejuice had tossed you across the room, but he was so busy talking to you that he didn’t answer any of your questions. And, to be fair, you weren’t answering any of his. And so, you decided to be the bigger person and stop talking. (It definitely wasn’t because you couldn’t concentrate if both of you were speaking at once and trying was going to give you a migraine. Not at all.)

“Fine!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air and scrambling to your feet. “You talk first. Go!”

“What the fuck was that? Why are you crawling with magic?” Beetlejuice demanded. Something in his tone told you it wasn’t the first time he had asked it.

You gave him the stare that deserved. Maybe demons didn’t have as strong a connection to the day as witches, but there was no way he couldn’t feel the way magic hung thick in the air. You could feel it pulse, feel it breathe. You could have been locked in a windowless basement, wrapped in a tarp, and suffering from history’s worst head cold and you still would have known what day it was.

But you tried to be kind. It helped that you counted to ten, then twenty as you took your position on the couch once more. That brief break helped keep your tone even as you answered, “It’s All Hallows’ Eve.”

Beetlejuice looked blank for a moment, then let out a cackle that belonged on every Halloween sound effect CD you’d grown up hearing. “That explains the power. The way it’s just spillin’ outta you.”

The way he said it turned an already-odd statement into something dirty. When he licked his lips, tongue only serving to draw attention to his overly sharp teeth, you could tell it had been on purpose. “Don’t you dare. We still have work to do.”

“C’mon, babes,” he purred, clearly not dissuaded by your sharp tone. “You know I feed on sex. It’ll make both of us feel better.”

“And then I end up doing the rest of this by myself?” you demanded, gesturing broadly to the mass of papers across your coffee table. “I’ll pass, thanks. At least choose a name. Then we’ll have sex before you leave. Okay?”

“I think better when my dick doesn’t have dibs on the blood supply,” Beetlejuice countered, unabashedly adjusting himself. “It just makes sense - I suck a little power from the person I fuck and ya have way too much power going on right now. I’m not gonna be able to focus until the two of us get down and dirty.”

“Well, we can cross sweet-talking off your list of skills,” you said dryly.

Beetlejuice scoffed. “Toots, we both know dirty talk is the most important skill. Fuck sweet-talking. Besides, we both know how good I am with my tongue.”

You rolled your eyes, though it wasn’t easy to look away from the dizzying display created by his waggling eyebrows. “Beej…”

“Okay, I’ll make a deal with ya.” That got your attention. If there was one thing Beetlejuice took seriously, it was a deal. “Lemme remind ya how much ya like my tongue, then I’ll do as much boring paperwork as ya want.”

It seemed like a good deal. That in itself was suspicious. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you disappear as soon as the terms of the deal are complete?”

“What? No, that’s not true! Who told ya-?” Beetlejuice dropped his offended act when you didn’t seem even slightly convinced. “Okay, I usually do, but it’s not a requirement. It’s just a convenient out, ya know? But I don’t have to leave right away. Don’t’cha remember the first deal we made?”

“Yeah, I do remember,” you admitted. The demon nodded, but otherwise, kept watching you expectantly. You sighed despite yourself. You didn’t want to break your concentration streak, but Beetlejuice had already done that. And you couldn’t deny that part of you was eager to see how the extra power would impact sex.

So you fixed Beetlejuice with a hard stare. “And you promise that you’ll actually help afterward?”

“Absolutely, doll,” he said, nodding too many times. “Anything ya want, I’ll do it. I promise. I swear.”

“And it’s not going to hurt when you siphon power from me?” you checked.

He shrugged. “Ya haven’t complained any of the other times.”

The suspicion you felt must have been clear on your face, since Beetlejuice rose up on his knees. With the broken springs and worn cushions of your couch, your faces were on the same level. “One way to check.”

Well, surely there was nothing to lose by this point… You leaned forward, tasting the mossy rain scent of Beetlejuice on the air an instant before your lips met. Someone gasped and you weren’t entirely sure whether it was you or the demon. The power had gathered where you touched him, like static electricity in a globe. It focused on the places where your skin touched, making your lips and tongue tingle as you explored just how strong an effect the magic had on you.

When you parted, both you and Beetlejuice were panting. He watched you intently, pupils blown wide with desire. You couldn’t blame him - it had felt amazing, and if he was right, you were actually losing power. How incredible would it feel if you had been gaining it instead?

“Okay,” you relented. “I guess we can- ah!”

Without warning, Beetlejuice worked his magic and stripped every stitch of clothing from you. His shirt was gone, but he was still wearing his pants. One grubby sock clung to his foot. If pressed, you would have bet that he didn’t own a pair of socks, let alone wear them.

Before you could begin processing that, he had muscled his way between your legs and grabbed behind your knees. After a hard yank, he buried his face between your legs as you gasped and clutched his head.

Your hands flew to his hair, burying in the thick, shockingly soft strands as you tried to catch your breath and moan at the same time. “Beetle-”

Sharp teeth sank into the tender skin of your inner thigh and you let out a soft cry. “None’a that. You know the rules,” Beetlejuice murmured against you, kissing your leg gently before he set to work sucking a mark into your flesh. Just as the pressure of his lips seemed to reach an apex, the magic felt like it took a deep breath, gathering where Beetlejuice was pressed.

The resulting pulse of magic made you groan… and pulled a whimper out of Beetlejuice.

Before you could fully soak that noise in, though it was echoing deliciously in your ears, Beetlejuice moved back toward more sensitive places. His tongue slid out of his mouth… and out… and out, until the tip of it was wriggling against you without him moving any closer to your core. It was disturbing, almost enough to shake you from your lustful stupor, but then it brushed over your clit and you stopped caring.

Beetlejuice reined himself in, bringing his tongue back to a normal length as he nosed up and down your slit, laving everything with attention. Well, almost everything. He seemed to be pointedly avoiding your clit then. Part of you was grumpy about that, but with the intensity of everything else, you had to wonder if you would survive him making direct contact with all of the nerves gathered there.

But you hardly had a moment to note the lack of stimulation before your attention was drawn elsewhere. One thick, cool finger pierced the heart of you and thrust ever deeper until it was buried as far as he could reach. The intrusion felt sharp and intense, but right in a way that felt far too important considering that it was nothing more than a finger.

You knew he was a powerful demon and you had a half a beat to wonder if he could shift forms, or alter his usual one. Gifting himself several extra mouths and tongues was the only way you could picture him being everywhere it felt like he was.

Of course, all of those musings were there one instant and gone the next. That was approximately how long it took the sensations to hit you, and then the only thing you could do was desperately bury your hands in Beetlejuice’s hair and ride his tongue.

He gave you plenty to work with, too. He had proven several times that he had far too long a tongue for a typical human, and he seemed determined to coax every inch of it into the tight clasp of your core. As soon as you got used to the odd flexibility of the muscle inside of you, your body clenched so hard that you thought you would push him back out. At any rate, you were quickly getting addicted to the sensation.

When Beetlejuice withdrew his tongue, it was to give his full attention to that wonderfully sensitive bud at the top of your slit. He didn’t ease into it - no, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked hard.

You shrieked, thighs fighting to close and push him out, but the demon simply tossed your legs over his shoulders. With your calves and feet dangling helplessly down his back, your kicks were ineffective. You were utterly at his mercy as he feasted on you, and Beetlejuice had never struck you as the merciful type. Your hips danced in his steely grip and even you couldn’t tell whether you were trying to move closer to him or further away.

Your climax hit you out of nowhere, fully blindsiding both you and Beetlejuice. Your throat hurt with the noises you were forcing from it, but you couldn’t hear any of them. The flood of pleasure rushing through your brain made it ignore silly things, like your sense of hearing. Your fingers were sank deep in Beetlejuice’s hair, wrapped so tightly that your fingers ached with it. You used that grip to hold him against you, hips bucking as you rode his face.

The orgasm was like a feedback loop - the sounds he made sent a wave of wetness between your thighs and a wave of magic absolutely everywhere on your body. When the magic tingled its way through you, it impacted Beetlejuice as well. He was moaning helplessly, fingers convulsing on your hips. The few times you were able to pry your eyes open, you found that he had his closed.

The pleasure stretched on and on, lasting until your body was aching and your folds were too sensitive to be touched. Beetlejuice was still working you, trying to draw out sensations that had already concluded. You couldn’t fully blame him, though: you were still holding him in place and he didn’t have a choice.

When you managed to release your grip on his hair, Beetlejuice flopped backward, the hard impact leaving him sprawled on the floor.

“That was… incredible,” you panted out at last.

“You’re tellin’ me, babes,” Beetlejuice said, sitting up with a wince and a glance at his crotch. “If I don’t take care’a this soon, I’m gonna peel off some skin with these pants.”

“Did you..?” you started, trailing off awkwardly. Ridiculous as it was, it seemed indelicate to ask your demonic lover if he had come in his pants. Instead, you just gave a vague sort of wave. “You know…”

“Go off like a kid who just saw his first nudie mag?” Beetlejuice asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Yeah, sure fuckin’ did.”

“‘Nudie mag’?” you echoed, grimacing. “Are you a Beastie Boy circa 1992? Never say that again.”

“That song was ‘86, but fine,” he agreed easily. “How about-?”

“Why didn’t you just magic your pants away when you did everything else?” you asked loudly, talking over the first of what promised to be a long list of euphemisms for porn.

“Hey, it takes a lot of concentration to do what I do,” Beetlejuice informed you haughtily. “And I was a little occupied. It seemed more important to get ya naked than make sure I was, too. Just couldn’t wait to get my mouth on that cunt…”

His gaze got a little intent at that. Your face warmed with embarrassment and your core gave a throb of either eagerness or dismay, you weren’t sure which. But since you weren’t ready to even think about going for another round, you put on your sternest look and tone. “Beetlejuice.”

“Okay, okay,” he agreed gracelessly. “I got my shirt off, but the pants… Well, it’s a delicate area. I actually went too far the other way. This isn’t even mine.”

You watched Beetlejuice’s toes wriggling in the filthy sock - especially easy given the large hole over his big toe - and shook your head. “Anyway, I hope that was enough of a break for you. We still have work to do for your store.”

Beetlejuice pursed his lips and made a loud farting sound. “I still think the name is fine.”

“Yeah?” you asked challengingly. “Let me go ahead and try it out: Bee-”

A mossy-smelling hand clapped over your mouth before you could fully finish the first syllable. “Anyone ever told ya that you’re too mean for how pretty you are?”

You would have accused him of sucking up if he didn’t sound so disgruntled. “No.”

Beetlejuice didn’t seem to have any trouble deciphering the muffled word you’d said behind his hand. “Then you’re either meaner to me than you are to them or they’re idiots.”

“Enough sweet talk practice,” you declared. “What do you want to name your store?”

“I dunno.” Beetlejuice folded one arm behind his head, and there was something about the angle of his elbow that looked either painful or inhuman. You started getting dizzy when you thought about it, so you focused on the wet spot on the crotch of his obnoxiously striped pants to distract yourself. It worked remarkably well.

Beetlejuice was, of course, fully unaware of your inner distraction. He sighed, rolling his eyes so hard that you could only see the blankness of sclera between his eyelids. “Can’t we do somethin’ easy, like ‘Wicked’?”

“I think there could be some confusion there,” you reminded him, half-chuckling. Your amusement faded when Beetlejuice gave you a nonplussed stare. “You know, the hit Broadway musical about a girl with green skin? Could be a relative, you know, though I don’t think hers was rot.”

“Mold,” he corrected. “I have mold, not rot. I wish I had rot. And I don’t really keep up on the Broadway musicals, toots. They’re always canceling the good ones and sending them out on a tour that’s probably just as good, but lacks the dependability of a permanent theater.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “Just… not Wicked, okay?”

“Sure, fine,” Beetlejuice agreed, sticking his tongue out in concentration. “What about somethin’ that means the same thing?”

“A synonym?” you mused. “Sure. Let’s see… Bad, wrong, evil, corrupt…”

“Nah, not the right vibe.”

You nodded. “There are other meanings that lean more into the religious aspect of things, if that’s more along the lines of what you want. Immoral, ungodly, unholy…”

“Unholy has a nice ring to it,” Beetlejuice admitted. “But I don’t wanna give people the wrong idea. My store has plenty of holes in it.”

Even when you made the noise that boast deserved, Beetlejuice was still grinning. You decided to push past it. “Hateful, rotten, villainous, impure, sinful…”

“That one,” Beetlejuice said decisively, sitting up and running a hand over the hair that you had mussed so thoroughly. “Sinful. It’s got everything I like. Sinning… and being… full. Yeah, Sinful. We’ll have to change the logo.”

You nodded slowly, trying to commit his choice to memory. You really weren’t ready to stand up yet.

“And we’ll have to change the border.” When you glanced down, Beetlejuice was giving you a knowing look. “I know how much you don’t like the dick snake.”

“I thought it was clever, having it designed as an ouroboros,” you objected. “Maybe we should add lips to where it’s eating the head. Then it’ll look more like a blow job and less like torture.”

“Whatever floats their boat,” Beetlejuice told you with a shrug. “I don’t object to a little C&B torture.”

“Okay, I’m done with this conversation.” You stood from the couch, brushing random fuzz from your bare ass. There was a price to be paid for being naked and sweating on cushions that were falling apart. “Give me my clothes back. Now that you’ve picked a name, I can get started on all of the branding.”

“Ooh, branding is fun.”

You didn’t need to be psychic to know that he wasn’t talking about company branding… or to recognize that he was messing with you. Rather than reacting, you just threw a skeptical stare over your shoulder. “If you say so. Once we’ve figured out the logo, you can get it branded somewhere delicate. Now, are you giving me my clothes back or do I have to go find something to wear?”

Beetlejuice pouted, but your clothes were back in a moment. In recognition of his lack of complaining, you decided not to mention that you were missing underwear.

Again.

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Author's Note - Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween! In case I offended anyone, I have not had the chance to watch Beetlejuice the Musical on tour. I'm sure it's just as good, but I couldn't resist a little fourth-wall breaking.

I don't offer a taglist for mature works, but you can find more on my masterlist.

#a deal with a demon #beetlejuice fic #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fic #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice x you #witch!reader #lemon #spicy #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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