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endlessthxxghts · 26 days

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Ch1: New Beginnings

teacher!reader x student's dad!Frankie Morales || W/C: 8.8k

Ch. Summary: Frankie gets introduced to a new opportunity for his daughter, Elena. You get introduced to your new job. In celebration of these new beginnings, you both set out to a night at the bar, completely unaware that your paths are about to cross.

Content/Warnings: F!reader (she/her), female sex anatomy, reader is able-bodied. No physical descriptions of reader. Slight description of reader’s outfit (no size descriptions). Tío Santi (& TF Miller boys) makes an appearance. Slight implication reader understands some Spanish. Going out to bar/consumption of alcohol. Flirting. POV switch, mainly Frankie this chapter. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Sexual activity while under the influence of alcohol (you've slowed down your alcohol intake by that point, though). “Author Chose Not to Apply Archive Warnings” because it may result in spoilers (but there’s smut here…).

A/N: thank you to @honeyedmiller for proof-reading this for me, and thank you to @javierpena-inatacvest for peer pressuring me into giving my little idea an actual chance. I love love love you both sm🩶 to everyone, I truly hope you enjoy!! All my love xx

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August 2024

“Thank you so much for coming in, Mr. Morales.”

“It’s no problem at all, Mrs. Adams, is- is, um, is everything okay? Is Elena doing alright?” Frankie asks the second grade teacher, concerned.

The school year hasn’t started yet, but from time to time, the school does accelerated summer sessions that last a few weeks up until the actual start date of the school year. Elena always attends these sessions, begging her dad every summer to sign her up for one because I need to learn more! she’d tell him. How could he deny her the chance to expand that beautiful mind of hers?

“Oh, yes, everything is good! Elena is wonderful, and that’s actually why I asked you to come in,” she states. “Are you aware of how smart that girl is?”

Frankie can’t help the cheesy grin that spreads across his face. “Yeah, she’s always too excited to show me her progress reports and report cards, always pulling them out before we even leave the parking lot at the end of her days,” he beams.

“Oh, I bet. She blows me away everyday, that girl,” Mrs. Adams says genuinely. “So much so that I actually think she shouldn’t be attending here anymore,” the teacher adds, softer than the rest of her previous statements.

Frankie’s eyebrows twist in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, don’t get me wrong, I love having Elena, and everyone in this school loves her, too. She’s one of our brightest. But,” she sighs. “She is so damn smart, Mr. Morales. I’d go as far as to say she’s a prodigy.”

“Oh,” Frankie says, pleasantly surprised and confused. He still doesn’t know where she’s getting at. He tells her as much.

“What I’m trying to say is- Elena isn’t getting the proper brain stimulation someone of her level needs. She needs to go somewhere that will increase her levels at the fast rate she’s moving and somewhere that will stimulate the creative parts of her brain. Traditional public school—at least here—cannot provide her with that.”

Frankie has always known his daughter’s natural intelligence. She often comes home either excited because they worked on a topic she’s really good at, or she comes home really bored and exhausted—because they worked on a topic she’s really good at. It’s too repetitive for her, but he wasn’t sure what other options he had.

Frankie takes a moment to think. “Even if I did move her to a school that has all this, it sounds like it would cost a lot of money. Money that I unfortunately don’t have right now,” he says with a heavy breath.

Mrs. Adams’ smile grows ten times bigger. “Mr. Morales-”

“Frankie, please,” he corrects.

“Frankie, there’s a school for the gifted connected to our local university just a few miles down the way. I used to work there, and I have friends there. Please forgive me if I’ve overstepped, but I’ve spoken to the Director of Admissions. There’s a waitlist, and barely any get admitted—and it’s by semester, so you’ll have to keep up with re-enrolling her—but I told them all about Elena. They want her, Frankie. No waitlist. No tuition. They want her for this new semester. And I really think you should go for it.”

Frankie sits in Mrs. Adams’ office, utterly stunned. He’s sure his jaw is on the floor right now, eyes bugged out like those squeezable stress toys. “I- I don’t know what to say…” Frankie trails off.

“I know it’s a big step,” the teacher comforts. “But think about it.” She pulls out a card from her desk and hands it to him. “Here’s the director’s card. I’ll reach out to them to make sure they know to expect your call.”

Frankie knows this is a good thing. He knows these are once in a lifetime opportunities, and he knows if he goes through with this now, those rare opportunities won’t be so rare for her as she gets older. That’s all he wants for his daughter; nothing but opportunity and the right kind of challenges meant to help her grow as a person.

So why does he feel so nervous? He’s dealt with change before, and he’s dealt with last-minute, under pressure change up in the sky where his life could’ve been on the line—but nothing compares to the anxiety when it involves Elena. Since she was born, she is all he’s ever known. It’s been him and her against the world, and although some days are more difficult than others doing this parenting thing alone, Frankie wouldn’t have it any other way.

He gives Mrs. Adams his thank yous and goodbyes, and makes his way to the front office. It’s 12 o’ clock right now—recess time—but he wouldn’t doubt she’s propped up against a pillar with her nose in a book. He decides to check Elena out early and take her to go get dessert.

“She’ll be escorted here in a few minutes,” the front desk lady tells him.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Frankie says, resting his back against the wall.

A few minutes pass and the office’s door bursts open with the heartwarming sounds of his daughter’s giggles, an excited aura filling the room. “¡Papi!” she squeals, immediately wrapping her arms around the parts of her father she can reach.

“¡Mija!” he says, matching her energy, pulling her in for a tight squeeze. He kneels down to reach her level, placing a kiss on her forehead before he speaks. “Wanna go get dessert?”

Her eyes light up like a million stars. “Please!!” she replies, her entire body shaking in Frankie’s grasp.

Frankie picks her up, and they make their way to the car. Buckling her into her car seat, Frankie settles himself to the driver’s seat and asks the burning question before he pulls off. “Brownie sundae spot or-”

“BROWNIE!” Elena replies immediately. Frankie has to slap his mouth to stop from the uncontrollable laughter bubbling out from his chest. He knew what her answer would be. “Okay, mija, brownie spot it is.”

Their usual brownie sundae spot is in a little diner up the street from their house. Frankie began this little tradition as a way to celebrate Elena’s wins and milestones. The first milestone they celebrated was for her first word: airplane. Frankie was ecstatic, practically jumping up and down with Elena in his arms until his best friend, Santiago, had to calm him down. “Ay, tranquilo, tranquilo,” relax, relax, he said, holding his hands softly around Elena’s little head.

Today’s milestone, however, is much bigger than any they’ve celebrated, and the notion is not lost on little Elena.

“Papi,” she calls. “Are we celebrating something?”

Frankie chuckles to himself, loving how easily she can put things together. “We might be, mi amorcito.”

“Hm?” She hums, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted to the side as she settles into the booth seat, sitting across from her dad.

Their usual waiter comes before they can continue their conversation. “Hey, guys! The usual?”

Elena answers first, very excitedly. “YES, YES, BROWNIE SUNDAE!!!” She squeals as she elongates every syllable. Frankie confirms with a head nod as he chuckles at her energy.

“What’s the occasion?” The waiter says softer, directing the question to Frankie.

“We’ll see after I talk with this little lady,” Frankie tells the waiter, extending his long arm out to pinch Elena’s little cheek.

The waiter smiles and walks off, putting the order in with the kitchen and asking for a little bit of a delay to give Frankie enough time to talk things through with his daughter.

“So,” Frankie states.

“So,” his daughter mirrors, putting on her best serious face while fighting the huge grin that wants to break free.

“Do you know how smart you are, mija?” Frankie asks, smiling because he knows what she’s gonna say. Duh, papi, he thinks in his head.

“Duh, papi!” She says, a troublemaking giggle she’s had since her babbling stages echoes their little corner of the diner.

“Alright, little smart ah-” Frankie coughs to stop his mouth. “You little smarty pants,” he corrects himself.

“Daddy, were you about to call me a smartass?” She scolds.

His cheeks flush a bright red. “You spend too much time with Tío Santi,” he deadpans.

She hums, nodding her head triumphantly.

“Anyway,” he says, noting in his mind to scold Santi for his mouth around his little girl. “You’re so smart, mija, I was wondering… well, I was wondering if you feel like you’re actually learning?”

“What do you mean, papi?”

“Well, everything you’ve been learning so far is super easy for you, isn’t it?”

She ponders for a moment. “Yeah, it’s easy,” she confirms.

“Does it ever make you bored, how easy some days are?”

“A little, yeah,” she says a little softer. “But it’s okay because I end up helping my friends, and Mrs. Adams tells me I’m her assistant,” she giggles with pride.

“You’re too good, amor,” he chuckles. “But what if I told you,” he starts. Immediately, her interest is piqued. “A really fancy, really smart school heard about how smart you are?”

Her chocolate brown eyes widen, and her little jaw drops. “Me?! Really?!”

“Yes, baby!” Frankie can feel his excitement rising alongside hers, his initial nervousness fading just as quick. “And what if I told you they want you to go to their school?” Elena’s hands fly to her mouth, suppressing her squeals of joy. Frankie can hear her legs kicking back and forth underneath the table. “Would you wanna go, mi niña inteligente (my smart girl)?”

“So… I’ll learn harder things?” She asks.

“Yes,” he swallows thickly. Frankie thinks she’s having anxiety.

It’s not. “Then…” She settles for her usual diva answer. “Duh, papi!” She giggles, positively radiating pure excitement on this new journey she’s about to embark on.

She wiggles out of her side of the booth to crash into her father’s arms, pulling him into the tightest hug ever. As she pulls away and settles next to Frankie, the waiter comes out with the sundae, Congratulations! written in cursive on the side of the plate. Elena reads the message with ease, scooping up the red icing with her finger and licking it up. “Thank you!!” She exclaims to the waiter who murmurs a sweet smartest person I know with a ruffle to her curly head of hair.

The waiter looks at Frankie with a genuine smile, and Frankie returns it. This diner really has been there for all the Morales’ family wins. Frankie wonders what other miracles just might happen in this little building.

For the first time in your teaching career, you are nervous.

You’ve dealt with gifted children before, and you had no problems juggling public school and the extra side lessons you’d give to the occasional gifted child. People tend to underestimate the amount of prodigal children in the world due to the constant brushing off these adults like to give to developing humans. These little children deserve as much respect and care that any other human deserves, maybe even more. The children are our future, after all.

So, now that you’re starting a new job, in a school dedicated to your life’s passion—yeah, you’re pretty nervous.

This school was created by the state’s local university; it was their attempt at providing children with an enriching, stimulating environment that the typical school system couldn’t care enough to provide, and their attempt was an absolute success. It will take a little while to get themselves off their feet, so tuition and enrolling students is expensive compared to what you would pay for your child in the public education system.

However, with time and careful planning, the program’s ultimate goal is to adequately provide to childrens of all needs—regardless of their prodigal status—for little to no cost. It’s definitely an ambitious goal, but it’s one you’re absolutely ready and willing to stick around for.

You were hired this summer, August 1st to be exact. The principal—Ms. Sabatino—caught wind of the powerhouse of a teacher who goes above and beyond for her students, and she just had to have you on her team. Your interview wasn’t even a real interview: it was exchanging logistical information and showing you to your new home base, your new classroom. She told you if you wanted to take the time before the year officially started to make your classroom feel more like you, you could.

It took you about a week to settle the vibe of your classroom, and during your preparations, you met a few other teachers, instantly hitting it off with each other that they invited you to their “semester pregame,” they called it.

“You have to come, Ms. Powerhouse!” Ms. Smith—Linda, she corrected you—exclaimed.

“Powerhouse?!” You repeated, a little frightened. You knew coming in that the culture here was very tight-knit, but how fast does word really spread around here?

“Yeah, you powerhouse, you!” Mr. White—Blake—chimes in. “You’re all anyone is talking about! Honestly, we’ve been dying to meet you.”

And lastly, Ms. Marshall—Leah—joins in. “You’re a real legend, ya know that, don’t you? Sticking to the Rebel theme we got going on here,” she smirks, referring to their school’s mascot, the Rebels.

You flush under all their praise. “I really don’t know what you guys are talking about,” you say softly. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for our kiddos, like any of us would.” A proud smile graces your face, and not for the things you’ve done, but for the amazing students you’ve had the honor of meeting and teaching. There truly isn’t a better feeling.

The three teachers share a knowing look, the one that tells you they think you’re just trying to be humble. Their hums of secret agreement don’t escape your super-teacher hearing.

Ms. Marshall is the one to speak again. “Are you going to come though? We really would love to have you. We’ve been trying to find someone who can hold their alcohol better than Mr. Lightweight here can,” she cackles, pointing over to Mr. White, who now has an offended look on his face.

“I’ll have you know-” he starts. “Oh, Blake, enough with the excuses already!” Ms. Smith cuts him off.

You giggle at their banter, your apprehensiveness about this little squad slowly melting away. “I’m afraid if you’re looking for someone who can hold their own, that person is not me…but I would absolutely love to join you guys. When and where is this pregame?”

“YAAASSSSSS!” Ms. Smith is quick to squeal. She’s definitely the life of the party with these three. “We have it the Saturday before the semester starts! So, the 17th I believe. It’s a bit risky depending on how plastered we end up getting, but it’s all a part of the fun,” she says with a wink.

You reach for your phone in your back pocket, unlocking and letting your three new friends put their phone numbers in. You group text them so they have your number, too. “Perfect! I can’t wait,” you say sheepishly, your excitement slowly rising as their smiles begin to mirror your own. It’s been a while since you let yourself go and get lost in something else other than work, and you think this little pregame is exactly what you’ve been needing.

“Oh, come on, Fish! You have to come out with us!” Santi tells you, giving Frankie’s shoulder a punch of encouragement.

Frankie hisses at the impact, swatting Santi’s hand away with a scowl. “No.”

“Fish,” Santi reasons. “The Millers haven’t seen you in a hot minute since my ‘Lena girl was born, man. They miss you. Especially Benny, you know how sensitive that man gets. And! We need to celebrate this new chapter for you and ‘Lena!”

“We already celebrated,” Frankie corrects. “At the diner.”

“An adult celebration, Fish. When was the last time you let yourself go?”

Frankie sighs. Santi’s right. “Who would watch Elena?”

“I already spoke with Yavonna last night,” Santi says, a tinge of hope laced in his voice.

“Let me talk to Elena-”

“Fish, she’ll be fine-”

Frankie holds his hand out to signal Santi to shut up. “Let me talk to Elena,” he repeats, “and let her know our plans for tomorrow night. You know I don’t do anything without running it through with her first.”

Santi’s face is happier than a toddler getting ice cream for breakfast. He claps him on his shoulder, “Fuck yeah, man! Frontier boys back at it again!”

Frankie grimaces. “Pope, cállate, por favor,” shut up, please, he says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he kicks Santi out for the night.

“Tell ‘Lena Tío Santi says buenas noches (good night) please since her daddy likes to kick me out so soon,” Santi taunts, a fake offended look on his face.

“No,” Frankie says. Then he shuts the door.

Frankie lets a few moments pass to make sure Santi was out of sight before he calls out to his daughter. “Baby, tío Santi wishes you good night!”

Elena comes running down the stairs. “He left already?!”

“Yeah, sorry kiddo,” Frankie frowns, meeting her at the end of the stairs to kiss her forehead.

“It’s okay,” she says. “You kicked him out again, didn’t you, daddy?”

“Y-yeah, yeah I did,” Frankie stutters. There’s no lying to this little Einstein.

“Hey, baby?” Frankie says again, crouching down to his knees to meet her level. “Do you remember Yavonna? Tío Santi’s girlfriend?”

Her gears turn before recognition sparks in her eyes. “Yeah!”

“Well, would you be okay if papi went out tomorrow? And you and Yavonna have a girls’ night?” He asks.

Elena’s smile turns mischievous as she pulls her dad in for a hug, whispering in his ear. “Are you going on a date?”

“Mmm, tío Santi is nice and all, but he’s too much a pain in my ass for me to wanna go on a date with him,” he retorts. “So, no, no date. Just spending some time with your annoying uncle and some of our other old friends.”

“Oh, okay,” Elena says as she giggles. “Have fun, papi!”

“I will, baby, thank you,” he says, pulling her into one last hug before they both venture off to bed.

It’s Monday morning, one week before the semester starts, and Frankie is buzzing. He’s nervous and excited for his daughter, but he can tell this new environment is one that gets heavily involved—in both the child and the guardian’s life.

He’ll do anything for Elena, of course, and it isn’t like he wasn’t involved at her old school. But this one makes it feel like he’s also attending this place. The thought terrifies his socially anxious heart.

He puts his car in park and practices a few breathing exercises before he gets out. He has a meeting with the principal today—Ms. Sabatino?, he tries to remember. This meeting is for her to finally get to know him, and for the paperwork to get finalized. And because they aren’t charging him for this semester, he also needs to fill out some waivers.

He makes his way to her office, checking in at the front desk and waiting to be pulled back. His hand fidgets at his side, the nerves getting to him again.

“Mr. Morales?” A voice calls out, pulling him from his nerves. “Ms. Sabatino is ready for you, first door to your left.”

“Thank you,” he replies. He softly knocks on the door before entering.

“Mr. Morales! Come in, come in!” Ms. Sabatino waves him over. “Sit, make yourself comfortable! It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, ma’am, and please, just Frankie is good,” he tells her, a slight shyness in his voice and demeanor.

“Okay then, Frankie,” she smiles. “Let’s see here,” she says, squinting to her computer. “Do you have the enrollment forms?”

“Yes, right here,” Frankie sets the folder in front of her.

“Perfect, thank you,” she replies. “Here, you fill these waiver forms out that we talked about while I upload your forms in for Elena’s profile.”

Frankie mutters a quick okay, sounds good, before Ms. Sabatino speaks again. “While we get through these formalities though, did you have any questions for me? About the program, the teachers, literally anything at all besides what the meaning of life is?” she tries to joke, sensing Frankie’s anxiety.

Mrs. Adams already gave him the rundown of this place, but the financial conversation has been clouding his mind since he first found out about this place. “Well, actually, yes, I wanted to talk to you about the cost,” he starts.

“The cost is no issue, I promise you,” she reassures. But it’s not that. Although Frankie has major social anxiety, he’ll be damned if he comes off as a freeloader—even though absolutely no one here views him that way.

“No, I understand, but it’s more so that-” he pauses, taking a deep breath before he tries again. “I’m a single dad. I’m the one catering for both Elena and I. We’re not very well off, but we’re also not entirely poor. Just enough to…not really afford this place,” he shakes his head, he’s rambling. “Anyway- sorry. What I’m trying to say is, money isn’t an issue, but I can’t just sit here and not do anything to pay you guys back, even if it isn’t in a monetary sense.”

This piques the principal’s interest. She nods her head, taking a moment to measure her response. The computer pings as she thinks to herself, signaling that it’s done uploading the forms. She hands Frankie the folder back. He takes it, handing her the completed waiver. “I respect it,” she finally states. “A lot.”

“Y-yeah,” he says, not really sure how to respond to that.

Ms. Sabatino spins in her chair, pausing towards a drawer underneath her desk. She pulls out a little booklet of some sort.

“I have one idea,” she offers.

Frankie’s ears perch up. “Yeah? Anything,” he replies.

“It’s a lot to ask of a parent,” she says. “And I know you’re eager, but hear me out before you agree. And if you’d like to say no, then say no, that’s all I ask.”

“Deal,” Frankie tells her.

“So, last semester, the head of our PTA—the Parent-Teacher Association—quit on us. She quit and also unenrolled her child. Some weird drama, it was very unavoidable if she knew how to communicate properly… anyway, we are actually in need of a new head. I will admit, it’s a lot, but you’ll have me by your side, and I know a few of the parents would help show you the ropes and help you with anything you need.”

Out of everything, Frankie was not expecting this. It’s evident in the shocked look on his face.

“Like I said, I don’t need an answer right now-”

“What about the existing PTA parents?” Frankie blurts out. He may have not been PTA-level involved with his daughter, but he knows the seriousness in which parents take their roles when it comes to this.

“I appoint the head, and choosing one out of all of them would… to be frank… be a bloodbath. This PTA needs a fresh face. A new perspective. I can tell you’re nervous, but I can also tell you’re ambitious. I can tell you’d do anything for your daughter first and foremost. That is what my PTA needs. The rest of those parents- God- I love them, but they’re more worried about looking good and their brownie points with me than their kids’ experiences.”

If Frankie was unsure before, he definitely isn’t now. All he wants is the best for his daughter, and honestly, it makes him disappointed to hear where these parents’ priorities are. He’s absolutely scared shitless about doing this, but he can’t stop the next words that come out of his mouth. “I’ll do it.”

Her eyebrows fly up. “Are you sure?”

He isn't, he thinks. “Yes,” he tells her.

“Oh- okay, then,” Ms. Sabatino smiles bigger than before. She picks up the booklet from earlier and hands it to Frankie. “Read this over- they’re just some little rules we’ve established to keep the environment thriving for our kids. We’ve never had any issues before…besides last semester… but yeah, it’s just a precautionary measure. Thank you so much again, Frankie, and please if it does get too much, do not hesitate to let me know if you’d like to quit.”

He looks down to the book in his hand. The Rebels Guide - PTA Addition. He’s definitely not cut out for this. “Thank you, Ms. Sabatino. I’ll let you know. And I really appreciate you considering me for this. You have a good rest of your day,” Frankie says as he exits.

What the fuck am I doing? He thinks to himself as he gets himself into his car.

The rule book stares at Frankie as he drives. Stopped at a red light, he decides to place it in the glove compartment of his car. He’ll grab it later. For now, he needs it out of his view before he spirals.

Saturday, August 17th. Semester Pregame Day.

You’re in the middle of picking out your outfit when a flood of texts come through your phone.

[5:47PM Linda] You bitches ready?!

[5:48PM Leah] I’ve been ready, just waiting on Mr. Lightweight to get here…

[5:48PM Blake] Yeah okay, I’m not giving you a ride anymore, good luck.

[5:49PM Leah] Blake, I’m kidding, get your ass over here.

[5:49PM Blake] I’ve been outside, smartass.

[5:53PM Leah] Linda, we’re on the way to you. Ms. Powerhouse, are you sure you don’t want a ride?

[5:55PM] Please do not call me that.. And yes, I’m sure! I’m still picking out what I’m gonna wear to be honest. I think I’m gonna be a few minutes late.

[5:56PM Linda] OOOOO GIRL ARE YOU TRYING TO GET LAID?

[5:57PM Leah] 👀

[5:57PM Leah] Blake is driving, but he also would like to say: 👀

[5:58PM] Umm. No. I can’t make myself look nice for my friends?

[5:58PM Linda] In this world? Not without a motif, no.

[5:59PM] Wow.

[5:59PM] Okay, I’ve gotta finish getting ready. See you guys in a bit.

You toss your phone on your bed, not wanting to make yourself any later than you already are. They are right, you don’t necessarily have to get all dressed up. And it’s not like you’re getting laid anytime soon, let alone tonight. Right? Gosh, it’s been a hot minute since you’ve had any action. Well, okay, if you count your trustee wand, then it’s been about an hour since you’ve got some… but human interaction? Yeah, no.

You shake away the deprived thoughts your new friends planted in your brain settling for a sage green tank top with a lace lining at your chest. Something casual yet not too casual, slightly flashy but not too flashy. And since it’s in the middle of August, you decide on some black jean shorts.

It’s 6:15 by the time you head in your car. They wanted to get there around 6:30, so you’re not too far behind after all. It definitely helps that the bar they chose was a seven minute drive.

When you enter the bar, you spot the trio immediately, huddled by a tall table, all already cheering with shots. Linda spots you with a squeal, sending Leah to grab another round with a fourth shot this time.

With the mischievous party glint in her eyes, already you can tell what kind of night you’re going to have. One that makes you think maybe you should’ve caught a ride.

The first shot goes down roughly, an immediate fiery burn sliding down your throat as Linda shoves a lime in your mouth afterwards. “Tequiiilllaaaa shootttsss!!” She sings, already on her fourth to your first.

The second and third round slides down much smoother, your entire body beginning to heat up from its effects. Tequila has always had a fast effect on you, making you buzzed after one shot and effectively fucking you up after the third. Maybe you were a lightweight. Nonetheless, you indulge in one more peer-pressured round from Linda before you settle on a sugary sweet mixed drink paired with a glass of ice cold water.

Linda disappears to the small dance floor while Blake convinces the people at the pool table to let him join. It’s just you and Leah at the table now, talking here and there, but mainly just watching the other two have their fun from afar.

“So how long have you guys been doing this?” You shout over the loud music. Once the clock hit 7pm, the music was definitely hitting the threshold for ear damage.

Leah looks at you with a genuine smile. She’s content watching her friends be social butterflies. She has them in her presence and that’s all that matters. “We’ve been doing this for a few years now, really. Linda was at the school first, then I got hired a semester after her. Then Blake got hired a semester after me. And because we were all relatively new, we all just sort of- gravitated towards each other,” she explains. “I don’t know what I’d do without them, honestly. In and outside of the school, those two are very important in my life,” she breathes in a sniffle, quiet enough to go unheard, but since you’re watching her, you catch it in combination with a tear she sneakily wipes away.

It’s your turn for your eyes to gloss up. “That’s really beautiful,” you tell her.

Leah laughs a little. “Yeah. But don’t tell them though. I’ll have to strangle you,” she says in a mock sternness. Weirdly enough, you think there’s truth behind that.

You pull your hands up in a surrendering motion, “Promise,” you respond with a smirk. “I’m gonna go get another drink. Want?”

“What are you getting?”

“Was honestly just gonna sip on beer and water the rest of the night. I’m tapped out.”

“Me too,” she grins. “I’ll get what you get.”

Making your way up to the bartender, you politely wait until she comes up to you. “What can I get you, doll?”

“Two beers, please, and also two waters, but can you give me the waters after I set the beers down at my table?” you ask a little shyly.

The bartender gives you a sweet smile. “I got you, honey.”

She hands you the beers, and you make your way to Leah. “I gotta grab the waters real fast, give me one second,” you say, already whipping around and making your way back.

In that short span of time, the bartender was met with a crowd of needy newly aged adults, swarming her with requests. She looks at you, but you give her a nod, signaling it’s okay.

Two minutes, she mouths.

You sit down on the stool in front of you while you wait, turning to check on Leah. Her eyes are back on her friends, a warmth radiating from her smile. Only now, you’re a part of her rotation, and the warmth is reciprocated to you, too. And to think you were hesitant with this bunch.

As you sit and wait for the bartender, a group of four rowdy men take up the bar space beside you. One of them even bumps into your side, and you’re quick to jump. “Hey, watch it!” You yell over the noise.

A large hand grabs onto the guy’s shoulder and pulls him away from you. The bar is loud, but it doesn’t stop his deep gruff from blessing your ears. “Benny, watch where you’re fucking going, man!”

“Oh, shit,” the tall, lean man turns to you. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention..” he starts. You can feel the man fight for his life to stay on your eyes. He darts to your lips for a millisecond before he brings them back up. “Can I… Let me buy you a drink? To apologize?” He smirks like he just pulled the smoothest flirt attempt ever. Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, but before you can say anything, the large hand from earlier is pulling the man—Benny, apparently—away from you and to the other end where their other friends are. “Pendejo,” he mutters under his breath towards his friend.

You stifle a giggle. The man, your savior, finally actually looks at you, and at first he was going to ask if you understood what he said, but the moment your eyes meet, it’s like all the airflow was vacuumed clean out of his lungs, leaving him mentally gasping like a fish out of water. Physically, though, he keeps it cool. Or, at least, tries to.

“Hi- uh, I’m- I’m Frankie- look, I’m real sorry about my friend back there, he can be real stupid sometimes,” he mutters, his rosy cheeks bright on display, no alcohol to blame it on.

As he rambles, only then are you able to get a good look at this man—at Frankie, he calls himself. A baseball cap sits on his head, hiding what you can make out as curly hair. The dim light of the bar ruins your view slightly, but you are both near the warm light that emanates from the side of the bar, so your view is not completely obstructed. You can see beautiful brown, puppy dog eyes with a pretty scruff that grows haphazardly across his cheeks and jaw, and above his lip, too.

“Don’t worry about it, Frankie,” you manage as you look up at him. He’s still standing. You’re sitting on an elevated bar seat, and you still have to crane your neck. Good lord, he’s tall. You introduce yourself with a smile, holding your hand out for him to take. You have to fight your body not to shudder at the warmth of his hand.

Little do you know, he’s also fighting the same battle as you.

“Can I get you a drink, Frankie?” you ask. Usually you’d never do this, but there is just something about him. You need to know more.

“Uh,” you see him flush, an internal battle going on in his brain. Is it the battle of the so-called bro-code where he can’t hit on you because his friend did or because he should be offering you a drink?

He looks back to his friend. Yup, the bro-code. You quirk your brow at him.

“Yeah, okay,” he says with a grin as he perches himself to the bar seat beside you. “I’ll have a beer,” he tells you.

“Coming right up,” you smirk, winking at him before you try and regain the bartender’s attention.

You text Leah a quick I’m sorry, to which she replies with the eyes emoji again along with a winky face. Of course she saw everything.

The bartender comes to you and apologizes for earlier with the other group and then apologizes again when she admits she completely forgot to come back to you. She tells you this round of beers for you and Frankie are on the house. You try to tip her, but she doesn’t accept.

Frankie is really nice. Really handsome…and sexy…but you try to ignore the heat tingling between your legs because of the fact that Frankie is really nice.

As your two beers listen in on your conversation, untouched and sweaty, you’ve come to learn a good amount about Frankie. Like the fact that he’s a bashful boy, but you can tell he has no problem getting what he wants when the confidence strikes him. You’ve been witness to it a few times tonight—a hand on your knee there, a tucking of your hair behind your ear here, a long glance at your lips as you lick the residual drip of your drink—and it does nothing to calm your core’s ache.

The one that really sent you over the edge though was when he made you laugh particularly hard, your reaction was to lean into him. He took the opportunity to grab onto your seat and pull you against him, his thick highs entrapping both of yours.

“Oh-!” you gasp involuntarily, your eyes immediately searching for his. His gaze is dark, and so is yours.

Although quite nervous, Frankie’s confidence has spiked being in your presence. His thumb and forefinger come up to your chin, steadying and making your heartbeat erratic all in one. He leans closer in, the tips of each of your noses a hair’s width away. “You’re intoxicating,” he whispers.

“I could say the same thing about you,” you whisper back, feeling lightheaded and not from the alcohol coursing through your veins. “Been dying for you to touch me since you pulled your friend away,” you admit.

You see his Adam's apple bob in his throat. He looks past you, eyeing the single stall bathroom. You scanned the place earlier, you know where he’s looking. Tapping his thigh for him to look at you again, you give him a look of understanding before you break away from his grasp.

He faces the bar again, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He catches Santi and the Millers staring at him from the pool table they took over. Santi shoots Frankie a wink while Benny looks like a puppy who’s been kicked to the curb. Frankie really couldn’t care less right now.

Satisfied with the little window of time he gave, he stands from his seat, taking one more swig of beer before he makes his way to you. He knocks on the door softly, and you open it right away, pulling him in and immediately shutting it again.

Like a calculated dance, his hand goes back to lock the door while your hand grasps onto the fabric of his shirt at his chest, pulling his body flush against yours. Your hands take their time in coasting the plain of his broad chest and shoulders. Your thighs clench at the sensation.

His lips meet yours for the first time tonight, and he can feel every nerve in his body spark with electricity. Your lingering taste of all the drinks you had this evening mixed with a flavor he thinks is distinctly you consumes each of his senses.

Oh, you have him wrapped around your pretty little finger and you don’t even know it yet.

He walks forward, backing you into the bathroom sink.

You hop up on your own, your legs spreading without any forethought for his broad form. His hands coast the expanse of your body, settling at your ass on the counter as he pulls you tighter into his body, your center coming into contact with this hardness. He practically growls into your mouth at the heat he feels radiating from you.

“Fuck, querida,” he moans, his teeth chasing your bottom lip.

“Frankie,” you beg. For what, you’re not entirely sure.

“Can I taste you?” He breathes heavily against your lips, fingers twitching to take action.

Fuck. “Ye- yeah- yeah, okay,” you stutter, eyes wide. Getting eaten out probably has to be one of your favorite things in the whole world, yet, with your dating history, it’s a rare occurrence. Your last boyfriend was disgusted by it, and your last girlfriend ended up cheating on you. So. Your experience of receiving oral was rare, and God did you miss it.

Frankie mistakes your surprise as fear. “Are- are you sure? I don’t have to, not if you’re not comfortable,” he says sincerely. He starts to pull away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but you’re quick to grab onto him.

“No, no, I’m sorry, that’s not what I-” you laugh a little breathlessly before looking into his soft eyes again. “Yes, Frankie, please. Please, I want your mouth on me,” you say, tone a little needy on the backend. “You just took me by surprise, is all,” you whisper.

“Surprise?” He can’t stop his curiosity.

“I- I don’t know, guys don’t usually like-”

You don’t get to finish your statement before Frankie’s face turns angry. He places a heady kiss to your lips before he brings his mouth down your jaw, your neck. “So what you’re saying is,” he starts, his breath tickling your neck. If you weren’t propped up on the counter, you’d be on the floor with how weak your legs feel. Making his way down, he places a soft kiss in between your breasts. “This pretty little thing hasn’t been treated properly in a long, long time?” He asks as he kneels down, his eyes looking up and devouring you in your entirety.

“How do you even know she’s pretty?” You quip back, matching his energy.

“Oh, I know she’s fucking gorgeous based on the rest of you,” he purrs, fingers working your button and zipper. He hooks his fingers at the waist, and you lift your hips to help him.

“You flatter me,” you shakily say as you try to tease, your resolve starting to break.

Frankie smirks up at you before his entire demeanor changes upon seeding your exposed lower half. His face falls into astonishment, as if he just won the damn lottery, as if his last fucking meal was just placed in front of him. “What’d I say?” He mutters to himself. “Fucking gorgeous,” he answers his own question before he gives you no time to respond as he dives right in, the flat of his tongue licking a slow wide stripe up your glistening went cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” a loud moan leaves you, your head falling back as you relish in the immediate pleasure that shoots up your spine.

Frankie reluctantly breaks away to look at you, to check up on you, but your body is still shocked from the pleasure, and he grins, cheeks full of mischief. He hums to himself before he goes back in. “Fucking delicious, too.”

“Jesus, shit-” you murmur, trying to brace yourself for what you know is going to utterly ruin you.

He licks through your folds once more, slow and steady, calculated, measuring every small twitch and whimper that your body produces. His tongue moves up to your clit, circling around the area reveling in the way your breathing speeds up and your hips buck. Even with your movements chasing for more, he remains steadfast in his ministrations.

He continues his tease until he hears you huff. You’re getting impatient. “Baby, please,” you whine. “Please don’t tease,” you pout at him then, and whether it’s real or a ploy to get him to give in, how can Frankie say no to that face?

Without lifting from your cunt, Frankie switches from slow passes around your bud to attaching directly on it, suckling and flicking the sharp tip of his tongue across you. Your legs writhe under his expert touch, your hand flying to the baseball cap to his head and flinging it off to rake your fingers through his wild curls. He groans into you the second he feels your grip, his pace faltering for just a moment before he finds his way again.

Frankie detaches from you, dragging his tongue downward to your folds to lap up your slick. The squelch your pussy makes when his tongue makes contact is sinful. He lets his mouth wrap as much as he can around you, his tongue prodding at your entrance, testing your limits.

“Oh, Frankie, yes-” you lament, your hand pulling his face tight against your core as your hips force his pink muscle inside. His cock is definitely at full mast now, especially with how reactive you are for him. Your eyes are entirely white as you repeat his name like a prayer, your hips frantically meeting the thrusts of his tongue.

You grip tighter into his locks, angling his head slightly down, and fuckfuckfuck you squeal loudly, this angle causes his nose to nudge at your sensitive nerves perfectly with each push of his tongue inside of you.

“I’m c-close, Frankie- fuck- I’m gonna cum, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum- oh my God-” you practically scream, your body losing all strength as you fall back into the counter behind you, Frankie licking everything up while he tries to fuck you through your orgasm.

The vibrations of his moaning sends you into overdrive, and you’re so spaced out you don’t even realize Frankie’s been desperately humping nothing, bringing himself to an orgasm the same time as you. He lifts off from you completely, his breathing labored as his chin threatens to drip your arousal to the ground. Frankie’s fingers reach for his face, collecting up the residue only for him to bring it back up to his mouth. The sound of him sucking his fingers up like he just ate the sauciest of wings brings you back to reality, pulling your body up weakly as your eyes go wide when you realize what Frankie’s doing.

Your cheeks heat up, but your ability to tease is back. “That good, huh?”

“Finger lickin’, baby,” he says lazily.

He rises from his knees only for you to then notice the wet spot at his crotch. “Frankie-” you start.

“Yes, yes I did,” he finishes, knowing the question you were going to ask.

He bends down to pick up his hat, swiftly placing it back on his head while he grabs your shorts, putting them gently back in place.

“You okay?” He checks in.

You melt under his sweet attention. “Never better,” you beam.

You two stand there in each other’s presence before you finally pipe up. “So how do you wanna…” you trail off.

“You wanna head out first? I got a bit of a… mess to clean up anyway,” he says, gesturing to himself.

“Oh! Right, yeah. Okay,” you say awkwardly, as if his tongue wasn’t just inside of you. “I’ll see you out there,” you add as you turn around, opening the door just enough to slip out.

You stand there for a moment, giving yourself a second to register what the fuck just happened. You did not let a man you just met go down on you? At a bar, no less?!

You make your way to the bartender, needing an ice cold glass of water to cool you off. Your head is spinning, and it’s really not because of the alcohol anymore. But you blame the substance anyway.

Hearing the bathroom door creak, you turn around to see a blushing Frankie, his hat off his head and his hand shielding the wet patch between his legs. He sees you at the bar and he smiles, walking in your direction. However, before he can reach you, Linda magically appears in your face, drunk as shit and louder than you’ve ever experienced.

“There you are, silly!! Where’d you run off to?? Been looking for you, I swear it’s been like an hour!!!”

You look at Frankie over her shoulder, and he pauses in his tracks. You give him an apologetic smile. Before he can say it’s okay, the friends he was with finds him and drags him into a game of pool.

“Hey, sorry!” You scream over the music. “Just needed some time, it got a bit too loud in here,” you lie. You’re too overstimulated—in many ways as your clit throbs against the fabric of your wet panties—to handle more ridicule from these three. “I think I’m gonna head home now, though, I’m kind of tired,” you tell her. “Where’s Blake and Leah?”

She drags you back to your guys’ table, urging one more round of shots. You go with her to the bar to order the round, mouthing to the bartender to make yours water. She winks at you, and hands you your glass directly while Leah impressively holds the other three with a drunken ease.

When Frankie finally spots you, happy and laughing with your friends, he smiles to himself and decides not to interrupt your time. He can find you later.

Except, he doesn’t.

Monday, August 19th.

Sunday was a blur. It was spent downing more water to flush out your body while surfing every account on every social media platform you have for a Frankie in your area.

No luck. Of course.

Frankie’s Sunday was spent the exact same way, too, although he is much less tech savvy and his attempt only lasted an hour before he gave up and spent the rest of his day moping.

“¿Qué pasa, papi?” What’s wrong, daddy? Elena had asked him as she scarfed down her eggs.

“Estoy bien, mi amorcito,” I’m okay, my love, Frankie responded with a kiss on her head.

Elena didn’t bug further, but he knew she would soon.

Monday morning, Elena was way too eager for her new school, forcing her father up and making breakfast an entire hour before they actually needed to get up. Somehow, Elena even convinced Frankie to leave the house half an hour before they needed to leave, forcing them to wait in the empty parking lot until any sign of life emerged.

Elena buries her nose in a book, while Frankie sat there, watching the minutes tick by. As he stared at the building, red accents and Home of the Rebels painted in big white letters, he’s suddenly reminded of what Ms. Sabatino asked him.

He reaches over and grabs the handbook out of the glove compartment. He flips open to the first page to the table of contents, and the first section, written in italicized, bold letters catches his eye:

Ground Rules

He flips to the page.

He scans through each bullet point, each one feeling more and more like common sense, but with the way the principal described these parents, he realizes how necessary these so-called rules are.

His eyes scan the last bullet point, and he can’t help but bite back a laugh.

No parent-teacher relations. Parent will be kicked off the PTA. Teacher will be reprimanded. NO exceptions.

He flips through several more pages when Elena lets out a piercing shriek. “AHH! DADDY, DADDY, LET’S GO,” she’s jumping up and down as much as she can while being belted in her car seat. Frankie looks up to see a bustling crowd of children and their guardian. He sees Ms. Sabatino in the mix.

“Alright, alright, mi vida (my life), I’m coming,” Frankie soothes, giving a softer tone of voice that hopefully she mirrors. He gets out of the car and opens the passenger door behind him, unbuckling Elena and setting her down to the ground, grabbing her backpack and shuffling it onto her back.

Ms. Sabatino catches sight of Frankie and Elena, and excitedly makes her way over. She bends down to Elena’s level. “Good morning!! You must be Elena Morales, yes?”

“YES-” she stops herself and clears her throat. “Yes! Yes, that’s me!” She says, a decibel calmer.

Ms. Sabatino warms at her eagerness. “It’s very lovely to meet you, Elena, I’m Ms. Sabatino, the principal here!” She holds out her hand for Elena to shake. She takes it eagerly.

“It’s very nice to meet you!” Elena emphasizes, putting on her best charm. Frankie chuckles.

Ms. Sabatino rises. “Mr. Morales, it’s great to see you again!” He nods his head with a smile and a soft likewise. “May I walk you both to her class? I’d like to introduce you to her new teacher,” she directs the question towards both of them.

Elena looks elated. She turns around to look her father in the eye, Frankie’s very own signature puppy dog eyes reflected back to him. He doesn’t even need to hear the question to know what her answer would be if she pulls this card. “Oh, papi, please will you come?”

“Of course, baby,” he says, caressing the apple of her cheeks before she cheers in victory.

“Great!” Ms. Sabatino says with a clap to her hands. “Right this way.”

On the way to Elena’s new class, Ms. Sabatino really praises her new teacher. Apparently, she’s the best of the best. One of their newest hires, but she’s practically a veteran when it comes to teaching prodigal children. She’s a powerhouse, Ms. Sabatino calls her. He gets the feeling that the teacher doesn’t really like that label much.

When Ms. Sabatino opens the door to his classroom, the teacher is immediately there to introduce herself and welcome in little Elena.

Frankie really doesn’t know what happens next besides the fact that his heart thoroughly stops and Elena’s voice is a muffled daddy, what’s wrong? throughout his panicked mind.

What’s wrong? He thinks.

What’s wrong is that Elena’s new teacher is you.

And he is absolutely, wholeheartedly, positively screwed.

Fuck.

I hope you liked the first chapter of my new series, New Beginnings!🥹🥹 I poured everything I have into this story, and I’ve been so eager to share it with the rest of you. I hope you are able to love it as much as I do.

Follow & turn on notifs for @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to know exactly when a new chapter comes out!🫶

Comments/reblogs or any kind of feedback to let me know what you think is my favorite part about putting out a story!! Please let me know your thoughts!!! I love you all so much, and thank you for the endless support you all show me. I wouldn’t be here without you.

Floral dividers on top & bottom courtesy of @saradika-graphics <3 section dividers in middle of fic made by me!

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awsok · 7 months

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okay. let's talk about shin, sabine, and whatever the hell is going on here:

i've been trying to figure out this moment, and why shin responds like this. because it feels like a change, right? the shin of episode 1 would be thrilled to have permission to hunt down and kill sabine. but here, she's clearly protesting the order (indirectly, because she can hardly outright say 'no' to thrawn).

on one level, this is definitely at least in part because the order is coming from thrawn. orders from baylan are fine for shin: baylan is her master, and by this point in the series it's obvious how much she respects him. but thrawn? baylan told her finding thrawn would bring them power, but instead both she and baylan are being treated like his underlings - this is not what shin thought they were signing up for.

but if this were solely about thrawn giving orders, i'd expect shin's reaction to seem irritated or offended - she's hardly a stranger to anger, after all. but i think it's fair to say that shin's response here can be best characterised as alarmed? she's clearly surprised that they aren't letting sabine go, and more than that: she's not happy about it.

so then, i thought maybe that this was about honour - that shin was so disturbed by this, because it is dishonourable for baylan (who has made a point of insisting on keeping his word to sabine) to break their agreement. (and i know it may seem counterintuitive to assume that shin cares about such a jedi-like concept as honour, but judging by the way baylan speaks of the jedi and shin's padawan braid, he probably instilled her with their values if not their morals.) but then i remembered where episode four left off (which is indicated by the show to be a most a day or two ago):

this takes place literally immediately after sabine has made a deal with baylan. if shin cares enough about honour for it to override her hatred of sabine in episode six, it doesn't make sense for her to disregard honour (even in the heat of the moment) to try and kill sabine in episode four.

so if this isn't about thrawn (not entirely), and it isn't about honour (probably not at all), what is this about? what has changed to make shin go from homicidal obsession to protesting seemingly on sabine's behalf?

sabine, of course.

(by which i actually mean: shin.)

let's talk about The Look!

shin staring at sabine is nothing remotely new. shin staring at sabine without a homicidal glare or a mocking smirk? that's extremely new. this scene makes me crazy (i'm trying so so hard to keep the shipping goggles off and to be objective guys). it may not seem like much at first glance, but this is a dramatic change of behaviour for shin. she's looking at - no, observing sabine in a completely neutral and open way. there's no hostility in this gaze, no judgement, not even fear or conflict. just: observing. and she's doing so openly as well - not just that she isn't disguising herself - she turns to face sabine, as if to give sabine a better look at her. as if to let sabine observe her right back.

why??? why is shin doing this??

um. well. i actually don't know.

i can't make any remotely certain assumptions about what has changed since they left seatos. maybe shin has done a lot of introspection. maybe she feels like she's seen a different side of sabine. maybe they fucked on that spaceship.

the only conclusion i do feel it might be safe to make is this:

i don't think shin sees sabine as an enemy anymore.

i don't know when exactly that changed, i don't know what exactly caused it. but it's true. and if shin and sabine aren't enemies anymore - what are they to each other? what will they become?

tl;dr - shin doesn't want to murder sabine in cold blood anymore. also i think they should hold hands.

#wolfwren #um so this got long. like nearly 700 words long.#what can i say they make me crazy #shin hati #ahsoka series #sabine wren #star wars #baylan skoll #also i tried really hard to stay objective and focus only on what canon gives us #shipping and fanon are fun but sometimes the restrictions of canon are More fun #plus i wanted this to be more about character analysis than shipping fodder y'know?#*#100 #ahsoka #*meta

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luvring · 2 months

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hi!! I’m not the anon who rq’d the ais falling in love with reader/mc but I would love if you could do a similar post for vere! big fan of when smooth talking pretty boys catch feelings and get mad about it…

VERE FALLING IN LOVE

gn!reader | here we go everybodayyy!!!

gaining vere's genuine affection and trust is tricky. you can entertain him, you can flirt, he can help you out or make deals, but seeing the 'real vere' takes work

so more than the others, there's a big danger of it getting messy. you could think it's going fast, but it could all be undone just as quickly if you step over a line or push him too far too fast

anyway. a lot of distrust in the beginning. obviously. he isn't surprised by this either. somehow, he says, you'd be just as dumb to trust him as you are not currently trusting him. you might think this doesn't make sense but it does

take him somewhere new, or try something new. he knows the city much better than you, so you have to think outside of the box. you aren't going to wait in a long ass line to get into that restaurant, you're going to make the meals yourself or sneak your way in. take him to a place that he's never gone because he thinks it looks and smells like shit, just because you heard a band was going to perform. go around daring each other to do things. maybe it all ends terribly, but vere tells you that it was enjoyable anyway (but let him pick the place next time, he's really questioning your taste)

if you're not much of a daredevil or thrill seeker, more just someone whipped going PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE that's fair. it works for softer or fluffier ideas too because he's not used to that, is he! say Let's go on a picnic with what few things i can afford, and we can draw each other, sit down and enjoy the sun on a roof or something. just ask him if he wants to grab dinner. nothing crazy or weird, you just want to go get ? pasta

^ with your luck something crazy happens, probably because of the guy you're with. vere apologizes after (doesn't really mean it) but, maybe to his surprise, finds himself endeared by your exasperation and looks forward to next time

scratches head. i was like why do i feel like i've thought these thoughts before. Um. my vulnerable vere headcanons. everyone feel free to check those out. truly because they fit here and i don't want to repeat them all LOL.

some other moments... standing up for/protecting him. he says he doesn't need you to help him, but you roll your eyes and say you want to, so shut up. no one should talk to him that way, y'know.

giving vere a genuine compliment too. saying his hair looks especially nice when the sun hits it, or that despite being an annoying asshole, you really enjoy his company and you're grateful you know him. he doesn't know what to do. he glitches a little. know that he'll be thinking about it for a While.

vere falling in love is threats growing empty, taunting pet names growing endearing, letting you touch him rather than the other way around, helping you when he gains nothing in return, sudden serious reassurance or advice, secrets and vulnerability he hates all exposed to you

like in the vulnerable hcs, whatever sets your relationship off the deep end for a while is probably some involuntary exposure. fear, regret, dread, an expectation of such.

the messiness of it all.....vere is avoidant, but he can be more aggressive, and won't falter as easily as someone as mhin for example. (sorry mhin. both of these guys may want genuine connection but mhin's emotions feel... more raw? more willing, more hopeful)

^ if he mocks you for thinking it meant anything, you need to say more than a "fuck you, you liar," to catch him. his walls are higher, he's been here longer—you have to hit hard. but also ?? Somehow not Too hard. he can kill you in the demo after all. and you're too close now for him to think of killing you (which is incredibly annoying to his avoidant brain), but he might do some (emotional?) damage he'll come to regret later.

the others notice quickly when they see both of you in bad moods and avoiding each other. i don't put it past leander to try making a joke like Where's vere? The both of you usually show up together, lovers' quarrel? and then going ...! Ah.

you might want to talk to ais, honestly. he already expects you when you walk in. and you try to ask for help and he's like. ? you sure you need my help, sparrow? i'm pretty sure you know what he's doing just as well as i do.

so kind of fruitless but hey you get a complaint buddy who fr gets you! he wishes you luck (you'll need it)

if/when vere falls in love it's Serious. he doesn't just open up to anyone. You are Not Just Anyone. This is it. he didn't think he'd let this happen, think it could happen, yet here you are. the level of trust and loyalty he has with you is .??!?! off the charts.

if you doubt how much he cares about you at this point, vere is genuinely confused because ?? After Everything? He knows you're smarter than that.

he really isn't trying to invalidate you though. he does his best to reassure you and remind you of all the things he'll only do for/with you!

Saying I love you? ............. guh

vere thinks about how he dealt with his feelings before, and he realizes he needs to get himself together because he doesn't want to project and hurt you again. < feels guilty for ages if he knows it hit deep

.. i just remembered his blushing smiling sprite while talking about ais and the luvring in me wants to think about vere taking that step before you. R U JOKING really go look at that sprite again. R U JOKING.

sigh. yeah yeah feels ooc leave me alone. ok. he's scared Because of what happened with ais. you tell him you love him and you stare at each other and his tail is unnaturally still and he tries to play it off. you tell him he doesn't have to say it back and he laughs because of course you're being annnoyingly (/affectionate) understanding even now

moving on. what if . established relationship with vere where you say "i love you" and he says "of course you do" and when you hit his arm and complain about him hating you he rolls his eyes and kisses you and says of course he loves you too.

and it's with a nickname like love you too, darling. love you too, hon. whaattt who said that ?!

what if vere is actually sooo whipped and gets mushy when he feels super safe and happy and while he's being doted on. his tail wags and his ears flick when he hears you and he can't believe you were gone all day, leaving no one around to give him attention Guys let's think about this. you compliment and kiss him and he tries to act annoyed but leans in because Who is Vere to Reject Attention From You. vere who's so endlessly amused by and in love with you that he keeps grinning while you banter with each other. who blushes when you kiss his nose and tell him you love him before finally getting out of bed. RAAHH!!

well. whatever. btw feel free to hold whatever he said and did during the messy break over his head. Fair Shot. like oh, might i remind you that you trapped me against a wall and pointed out a deep insecurity i shared with you because you were scared and angry, vere. You're going to deal with putting on these stupid matching outfits or else i'm getting back-up.

guys i'm being so serious about the affectionate vere thing. Walk with me. please. somebody walk with me....

new tag list form! can't tag :( | @theloststar @pelicanpizza @causenessus @chickenfingerswithasideoffries @priv_rose @ur-local-simp @respitable

#touchstarved x reader #vere x reader #vere #touchstarved #touchstarved game

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 25 days

Note

Out of curiosity, do you happen to know why Jade is so secretive about himself? I think it's no one's surprise when I say that Jade is more often than not secretive/guarded about himself. Jade is a master in hiding his emotions/thoughts. And even when he's revealing any information about himself; I feel suspicious about it.

So i always wondered why he's so guarded/secretive about himself? It's either the trope "intriguing mysterious character" going or he genuinely has a reason why he likes to be in control EVEN with his own feelings. Maybe it's a Merfolk thing? Maybe he's scared of being vulnerable?

At the end of the day, it's only speculation why he's the way he is. I think the only genuine thing we know he likes is mushrooms.

What do you think?

Know? No. I don't think anyone really "knows" why Jade is secretive about himself. Maybe not even the devs themselves know!

Let's speak in terms beyond the trope he fits into; I feel it can be reductive to say, "the character is this way because that's what he's supposed to be by design!" To begin with, I don't think it's a merfolk trait because we do not see the same characteristics in his twin (who openly blurts out secrets, including his own UM) nor in Azul (who technically is also secretive, but has a backstory which explains the insecurities behind his behavior). I also would not frame Jade's mysteriousness as a matter of being "scared" of vulnerability. Yes, he does not like to be in situations where he is vulnerable or others can take advantage of him. However, I don't believe this disdain comes from a fear of intimacy or of showing others his "true" self. Jade has made clear that he finds it easier to manipulate others and to gain their trust if they perceive him to be a non-threat. (Look no further than his Ceremonial Robes vignettes, where he tricks a fellow vice dorm leader, Trey.) It’s also true that he enjoys teasing others and purposefully dropping vaguely worded phrases to alarm others—this is how he has fun, and he maintains this with people he is close with (Azul and Floyd). Is it considered “not being himself” when he is still calm mysterious with them? Personally, I don’t think so. He’s being open with them in his own way.

I think a lot of the ways Jade acts can easily be attributed to his upbringing. We've received several hints that the Leech brothers' father is quite wealthy and influential, and may be involved in shady dealings. Furthermore, he and his twin grew up in the Coral Sea, which is described to be frigid and boasts dangerous creatures such as sharks. Jade was therefore raised in an environment where self-preservation was a priority and he was taught many skills to adapt to his surroundings and any scuffles he may get into (from martial arts to lock picking and undoing knots). If we run with the popular “Leech mob family” theory, their father would have enemies and even business associates trying to get a one-up on Papa Leech—possibly via his sons. Jade would have to be pretty alert and capable to deal with such encounters. It’s also these situations which may have led to him forming a distrust towards most others or feeling a need to conceal or misdirect his real thoughts/emotions. (Anyone could be an enemy or trying to use him for their own means.) This thinking could have developed into a kind of coping mechanism in which he is the one to first outdo and betray the other to prevent being the victim himself. He likes having the leg up on others; that control is a “security blanket”. It can be interpreted like a survival tactic that translated over to land after so many years of living in a treacherous sea.

I also believe that this background has had an impact on how Jade’s hobbies and other behaviors. He has explained before in his Birthday Boy vignettes that he likes terrariums because the management aspect gives him a sense of control, which is relaxing. He also tends to be an enabler and not intervene if he thinks the situation is funny or engages in it himself (such as when Azul is being teased), which are more subtle ways he entertains himself. Thus, Jade more often than not doesn’t act overtly and maintains that “support” role both in an effort to divert from his own shadiness and as the result of his upbringing in which he has to be alert for survival.

Now, the big question you’re probably having right now is “But what about Floyd?! Why doesn’t Floyd turn out like Jade if they basically grew up in the same environment?” Well, that’s simply because they’re their own people (something Floyd himself states) even if they are twins or related otherwise. Growing up in the same household and neighborhood does not guarantee you will have all the same interests or the same personality as a sibling. Floyd learned, adapted, and reacted differently than Jade did. He’s the upstart, the loudmouth, the one to jump to violence as a solution. Jade is not.

I really love the mysterious aspect to Jade. Sure, it feels like we cannot entirely trust anything he says, but I feel that’s part of his intrigue! I like trying to parse out what’s true and what’d false in his dialogue 🫶

#twisted wonderland #twst #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #Azul Ashengrotto #Trey Clover #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Tweels #Octavinelle #notes from the writing raven #question

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dogiperson · 14 days

Note

Hello! Big fan of your art pieces. Read your latest comic about the origin of cannibal Lady Lamb and I must say, though I do not endorse literal cannibalism, much less of one's kin, that brother of hers fully deserved it, 100%. Though I do have questions as well, if you don't mind me asking.

In that comic, Lamb seemed to have been a sacrifice of a cult of some kind, which is why she got that scarring mark on her neck. When did that happen when she was a kid, and how come she didn't die at their hands? How did she escape? Was it kept hush hush?

What is Lamb's public front of business, and why the surprise when she started wearing black instead of white?

Did the police ever managed to trace the brother's death to her? What got her hunting down the rest of her siblings? Did she get her parents too, or did they die before it happened? Why did her brother got so ... interested in her like that?

May your month be kinder to you than it was before, drink plenty of water, and rest plenty.

Oh, hi! That's a lot of questions!

This is good, because I'm crazy about my AUs!

I condemn cannibalism, what is in my Au is not a call to action or some kind of fetish, it is an allegory and an interesting concept for me.

"Eat the rich" but literally. It's all just fiction, don't take it too seriously

Okay, let's move on to the questions!

How did she not die after the sacrifice? Oh, um, she kinda did... But the ritual was successful.

And because of this she was bought by the man who became her adoptive father

He collected such children out of interest, that's why there are 13 of them

Everyone was surprised that she came in black dress because that's the color you wear to funerals lol

Her brother disappeared without any reason why he could leave on his own, she was the last one to see him and she who used to wear only white now comes dressed in black. And of course with fur on her shoulders. It looks very strange you know...

Since then she hasn't worn anything other than black btw

What got her hunting down the rest of her siblings?

After her father died (old rich bitch) his will stated that his property would only transfer if there was only one child left in the family... So let the fun begin, since they are not exactly siblings, and even didnt growing up together they had no familial relationship, just a bunch of lambs who want each other dead. They all tried to kill each other.

Did the police ever managed to trace the brother's death to her?

Of course! it's obvious I mean

Lamb is the main and only suspect in the murder... The problem is that until death is proven, her brother is considered missing and not dead, so... Because there is no body, there is no murder.

Why did her brother got so ... interested in her like that?

Want some nasty details? He was married and Lamb wasn't even 18 and she's a lesbian.

That's all! Thank you very much for being interested in my Au, I hope I was able to answer all your questions thoroughly!

#narilamb yuri

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billthedrake · 6 months

Text

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS (PART THREE)

"Wow, you went all out, Coach," I said as I helped him set out the food on the table.

He gave a grin and replied, "Just my bachelor holiday dinner... thanks for sharing it with me, Russ."

"My pleasure," I said.

Ed had in his hand a bigger sized bottle of beer, which he opened. "Feel like sharing my Christmas present?"

I nodded. "Just a half glass," I said. "Gotta drive back." I wasn't a big beer guy, but I didn't want to turn down Coach S's offer. "Who's the gift from?" I asked.

"Matt Reynolds," he replied as he poured my glass half full then set to give himself some. "He and I are both into beer." Coach Reynolds was the high school's head football coach.

I held up my glass. "It makes sense, but I guess I never thought of teachers hanging out together outside of school."

He held up his glass and gave a silent toast. Then he replied with a smirk, "I'll admit get along better with some of the teachers more than others. Matt's my closest friend." Ed got a little shy as he added, "He's the only one who I've come out to, actually."

"Coach Reynolds?" I responded, incredulously.

That made Ed laugh. "Um, yeah. You surprised?"

I nodded. "The guy's a total meathead. Yeah, I'm surprised."

My former teacher shrugged. God, he was so handsome and adorable. I was glad we'd gotten the sex out of the way, so I could actually carry on a conversation with the man. "People have a way of surprising you, Russ."

"Sometimes not for the better," I said. Then realizing I might have come across as snotty or cynical, I added. "Sorry... I guess I'm still a little bitter from the way Zach Martin treated me." Zach and I had been friends since 6th grade, but he stopped talking to me when I came out.

I saw a look of real empathy on Coach S's face. "Sorry, Russ," he said. "I didn't know the full story, but I know you went through a lot."

"You do learn who your real friends are," I said, my tone less bitter than my words now. "I realize now that Zach is just crazy insecure, and I just got caught up in that."

Ed nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if Zach is gay himself."

I don't know why that didn't occur to me. "You think?"

He nodded. "Don't take it to the bank. It's just a hunch. But I know when I was that age, I was so freaked out someone would figure out... I may have been an asshole to a few guys just so I could fit in."

"Damn, Coach," I said.

He seemed embarrassed now. "I never had a friend come out to me, and I don't know what I would have done if I had. I'd like to think I'd do the right thing, but you never know." He took a sip. "I just know I was MAJORLY fucked up about the gay thing. Playing sports didn't help." I knew Ed Stanley was opening himself up to me, maybe in a way that wasn't easy for him. "I always admired how you handled things, Russ."

That surprised me. "In what way?"

He looked at his beer glass as he reflected on my question. "I don't know. You seemed confident in yourself." He looked back up at me. "Whatever... I know being a teenager isn't easy and probably wasn't for you either. Teachers don't know all that's going on, but we have more of an idea than our students realize."

I laugh. "Probably, yeah." Then, "truth be told, being an adult isn't always easy either."

That made Ed smile. I loved his smile. "You got that right," he said. "There's one big consolation prize, though," he said. "What we did just now," Ed added with an impish grin.

"You mean the fucking?" I clarified.

His blue eyes twinkled. "Yeah, the fucking. Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but that was the hottest sex of my life."

Damn, this man knew how to push my buttons. "I'm honored," I said. "So maybe I shouldn't admit it was the hottest sex of my life, too."

"Well, here's to hot sex," Ed toasted.

I laughed and matched his toast.

We talked a little less as we dug into the food. I don't think I realized how much the sex had worked up my appetite, and Ed seemed to be in the same boat.

But as our eating pace slowed, I had to ask the question on my mind. "So, Ed..." I started. "Why did you let this happen... You know, between us?"

He seemed to anticipate my question. "I got tired of putting my life on hold. I broke things off with Jessica two years ago," he explained about his former fiancee. "It was around the holidays, actually, and I guess I realize I'm still not happy." He gave me a little wince of a smile. "Seriously, having you keep me company has made my year."

My heart pounded. "Damn, Coach. I'm having a blast. Not only the sex, but all of it."

"You know, for a college kid, you're pretty damn mature."

"Hardly," I laughed. "I know this sounds cheesy, Coach, but for me, being gay... well, I just love other guys. Love spending time with them, in whatever way clicks." I found myself the one being embarrassed. "I guess I craved the male bonding I didn't always have."

"Remind me to punch Zach Martin's lights out next time I see him," Coach said. And it took me a second to realize he was joking.

I laughed. "Please do. The fucker."

Ed pushed his chair back. "Let me clear the dishes. I have some dessert if you have room."

"I have room," I said. "But I'm helping you."

I got up and started picking up out dinner plates. As I brought them into the kitchen, I could see out the window, into Ed Stanley's back yard.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed.

"What?" Ed asked, concerned.

"It's a blizzard out there," I said. I set down the dishes by the sink and walked over to the sliding glass door.

I was exaggerating, but it was really coming down now, and several inches of white stuff lay on the ground, the reflected light making the dusk seem less dim.

I felt his presence behind me, his hand touching my waist. It was a simple gesture, and a welcome. "Jesus," he said. "Is it supposed to let up?"

I laughed. "Man, I don't know." I turned to him. "I should check in with my folks."

He patted my side before stepping back. "Yeah," he said. Maybe a little disappointment in his face that I'd be leaving, but possibly I was flattering myself.

I pulled out my phone and indeed I had a couple of worried texts from my mom. She was staying over at her friend's and was concerned I'd be driving in the winter mess. I told her I could stay over at my friend's and that I'd check in with Dad.

My father isn't a big texter, so I called him.

"Hey," he said when he answered. "Some storm, huh?" Dad could get right to the point sometimes. I think I inherited that from him.

"Yeah, Mom's freaking out about me. I told her I could stay over at Jason's tonight."

"Sounds good, Russ," Dad said. Then with a quiet tone, asked. "You're not at Jason's are you?"

I paused, a little freaked out I was caught in a lie. Though knowing Dad, he hadn't actually caught me at anything. The man just had a good sixth sense. I figured I was 21 and had no reason to lie to my parents. "No, Dad, I'm not. Sorry."

"I'll cover for you with your mom. Just be safe, OK?"

"I will," I said. "Promise. And again, Sorry." I was feeling like a heel now.

"I was 21 once," Dad said. "You need your space. If you need anything, a ride or something, just me a call."

"Will do."

I shook my head after I hung up. Coach S was right. Sometimes people can surprise you, in a good way.

He was just finishing cleaning up when I walked back in. "Everything OK?" he asked.

"Yep," I said. "If I'm not imposing too much, Coach, could I crash here tonight? I can sleep on the couch or whatever." I didn't want to make it seem like I was just trying to be clingy with him. "My parents just don't want me driving."

He laughed. "I damn well hope you're not taking the couch, buddy," he said. Then with a worried hesitation, he added, "I mean if you do, I'll respect that... but I wouldn't mind a little bonus time with you."

"I wouldn't mind either, Coach."

That made him smile. He set down his towel and faced me fully. "You know, I never was your coach."

"You prefer Mr. Stanley?" I teased.

"No, not really," he laughed. He stepped up and wrapped up his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him. "You know, I didn't ever think I'd enjoy being with a taller guy," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked. I'd spent my teen years self conscious about my height but now enjoyed it. Ed Stanley was bigger and hunkier than me, but I was able to look down some at him as we stood toe to toe.

He nodded. "Guess I liked being the man."

"Ed, that's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard," I said with a laugh.

"Yeah, it is. Guess I got some hang ups. But I like this," he said. "You're a tall drink of water, Russ." He now ran his hands up my back, over the fabric of my T-shirt. "When did you bulk up?"

"Started hitting the weights freshman year," I explained. "Guess I had hangups of my own, you know, about my body...."

"You got a porn body, stud," Stanley said with a sexy grin.

"Look who's talking," I said.

We kissed. It was gentle and magical. Just a hint of tongue and I could sense our breath was synching up.

"Hmmm, I like snow days," the man said in a low voice.

"I'm liking them now," I replied.

I felt his hands come around my friend, openly feeling up my chest. I was so into his ex-jock build that I was enjoying seeing him clearly turned on by me. His hands traveling lower until his left knuckle grazed the crotch of my jeans.

"You're hard," he said, as he looked up into my eyes.

"Pretty much. Yeah," I nodded.

We kissed again, and now I took the occasion to feel up Ed's body. I undid a couple of his shirt buttons and felt him moan into my mouth.

The man seemed to be keeping his self-control as he stepped back. I could tell he had a boner in his sweats now, and I was proud I'd given that to him. "OK if we just enjoy a little time in the living room before hitting the bedroom? We got all night, Russ."

"Sounds good."

"I'll light a fire in the fireplace," he said. "Sometimes it doesn't seem worth the bother just for myself."

"I wish I'd brought something more comfortable to wear," I said. Even in his button-down, Ed looked relaxed with his sweats on.

"Feel free to dig through my drawers to see if something will fit you." His eyes swept up my body. "Not sure if there will be."

"Thanks," I said. I went back to his bedroom and looked through his casual clothes, all folded neatly in his drawers. Indeed his sweatpants and pajama bottoms were way too short, but I decided on a pair of gym shorts with a drawstring that helped them hold to a waist that was two inches smaller than his size. I could have stuck with my T-shirt, but I saw an old shirt with a baseball team logo. Something about wearing Ed Stanley's clothes excited me, so I grabbed the shirt, too. I slipped the shorts on without anything on underneath, then tried on the shirt. It was loose, but it came down below my waist, which was good.

He was done fiddling with the fire when I walked in.

"You found my old team shirt," he observed, walking over to join me on the couch.

"The Captains?" I asked, referencing the logo.

"Yep, my minor league team. Played with them for two years before I called it quits." He seemed nostalgic.

"Is that when you decided to go into teaching?" I asked. I didn't really know how any of this worked.

"No, I got my Ed degree in college. I knew the majors was a long shot."

"Well, you're a great teacher," I said, then blushed as soon as I did. "I guess this is weird to talk about, huh?"

"A little," he admitted. "But you're really hot, Russ... you've become a really hot young man. So if I have to deal with the weirdness, it's worth it."

He placed his arm around my shoulder again, and I leaned into his warm build some. I knew if he started something sexual, I'd be ready for it, but our session earlier that afternoon had taken away the urgency.

"I know this isn't my place to say, Ed, but you deserve to be happy." I couldn't look at him as I said this, but after seeing a certain loneliness in the guy, I felt I had to speak to it.

"Thanks, Russ," he replied softly. Almost sadly. "Are you happy?"

"More or less," I said.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I dunno," I said. I realized no one but Ed Stanley had ever asked me that question. "I mean, I'm enjoying college, and I guess I've dated a couple of guys. But like, I don't know, part of me wants a real relationship, something serious, to see what that's like. I mean, I'm not gonna rush it or anything, you know?"

His hand squeezed my shoulder. "Yeah, I know, Russ," he said.

I turned to him and his eyes were on me. Coach Stanley wanted another kiss. I wanted to kiss him. This time, I did my best to copy the man's soft approach. Something about our connection made me rock hard now as I kiss him and he kissed me back.

We made out some, a lot even. But we weren't rushing anything. It was around 7 and it was Christmas and the snow was coming down. We could enjoy this.

"What about you, Ed?" I finally asked as we parted, goofy expression on our face. "Any boyfriends?"

He shook his head. "I've tried the app thing. And this may sound old fashioned, Russ, but... I don't know, I think I need some other connection than coming in and taking off my clothes."

I nodded. "In all fairness Ed, you look REALLY fucking good without your clothes on."

He smirked. "Thanks. But you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," I said. "I've done the hookup thing some, and I've enjoyed it. But... I don't know, earlier..."

I stopped mid sentence. Stanley picked up on it. "What?" he asked.

I gulped. "I'm afraid of saying something real stupid, Ed."

He put his hand beneath my chin and turned me toward him. "I want you to trust me, Russ. I may not agree with what you say but I'm not going to judge you. Promise."

I nodded. My body shook a little, which made me embarrassed because I knew Stanley could tell. "When you were in me earlier...."

"Yeah...?" he prompted.

"It felt incredible. It was incredible."

"It was incredible for me, too," he said.

"Yeah, but... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think for me half of it was I wanted to make you happy. Like, I wanted to give that experience to you."

"Oh buddy," he muttered, his eyes a little moist.

"Maybe you think that's fucked up, but I think that's what made the fuck so good for me."

He took a deep breath, like he was trying to choose his words carefully. "That's what sex is, giving as well as receiving pleasure."

"It's not always," I corrected. I thought back to some of my hookups. "At least not emotionally."

"Yeah, not always," he agreed.

We kissed again. A little more eagerly this time. Part of me wanted to talk more with Ed, but this felt better. Being held by him, him pull me down on top of him as we reclined on the couch. He was warm, and the fireplace was heating up the room, too. Maybe this wasn't too different from time with my boyfriends of the past, but Ed Stanley brought a seriousness that wore down my defenses.

Slowly we humped on the couch and explored each other's bodies as we made out. He had me take off his minor league T-shirt and I unbuttoned his dress shirt once more. Ed Stanley was hard once more, I could feel his boner against mine, even if we hadn't stripped from the waist down.

But as we kissed Ed ran his hands down my back and under the waist of my shorts, which were his shorts really. His broad palms felt nice and warm against my bare buns.

He grunted into my mouth as I pulled up.

"Think I could press my luck, Russ?" he asked, horny as he could be.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one, Coach... are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

He looked into my eyes, his blue eyes clearly hungry. "I'd love to fuck you again, buddy." He put a slight emphasis on the "fuck" making it sound more naughty. "Maybe try some different positions."

I grinned. "You liked the barebacking, didn't you?"

He bit his lips and nodded. "And how. But if you're not up for it..."

"Oh, I'm up for it," I assured him. "I should be a little more relaxed from earlier."

"Is that how it works?" Ed asked, his fingers now dipping deeper into my crack.

"Can't speak for other guys, but a good fuck stretches me open a little. It's a nice feeling actually."

His nostrils flared as he took that in. "Bedroom?" he asked hoarsely.

"Lead the way, Coach," I said, then slid up off his body before standing in his living room, an erection evident in the shorts, matching his own clear boner.

Things felt smoother and slower now that we were working up for our second round. Yet our eyes ate each other up as we stripped down completely and got in on opposite sides of Ed's bed.

"Damn," he hissed as I moved in to nestle up against his naked furry build. "I'm glad you're staying over, Russ."

I could feel his hard dick against mine. "Funny... all of this happened because I ran into you."

"Glad I got that Christmas tree," he said. "I almost didn't."

"Glad I had the guts to hit on you," I replied.

He smirked. "I knew you wanted to."

"Yeah, I know," I said.

We kissed again. I was starting to worry about whisker burn or chapped lips, but it was like neither of us could get enough. The more we did, the more Ed seemed to get worked up. I was, too, sure, but I think my normal MO was to be a horndog when I was with a guy, so it was like I was waiting for the signal from him to amp things up.

I now used the element of surprise to push him on his back while I got up on top. His hands were greedily gripping my ass muscle as we got into it.

"Damn, you have a great ass," Ed said in a soft low voice.

"I realized at some point tall guys have to hit leg day twice as hard," I said, joking but not entirely.

He laughed. "I hope you don't mind me focusing only on your body... you know I think more of you, Russ."

I didn't know what Coach thought of me, actually, beyond this strange chemistry that had erupted between this week. I leaned up, flexing my bod a little and showing off for the man, even as my own hands were on his strong pecs. "I'll let you in on a secret, Coach. It's kind of a kick when you treat me like a piece of meat. I didn't think that would ever happen."

"Noted, buddy," he said, his own hands coming up to touch my smoother build.

I reached over to where the lube was still out.

"You, um... ?" Coach started to ask.

I nodded, reaching back to slick up his boner. Ed Stanley was rock hard now and I enjoyed the broad grin on his face as I slicked him up then leaned back against his cock.

"Twice in one day... fuck," he muttered.

I misunderstood what he meant. "You want it, right?"

"God, yeah," he muttered. His eyes were on my body some but mostly watched my face as I sank back onto him. The penetration indeed was easier this time. I was horny and Ed's prior fuck had loosened me just enough.

"Amazing," my ex teacher grunted.

I sat further down in his lap. I felt full in a good way, but it was the psychological part of this mating that got me going. "I didn't ask... what's your favorite position?"

"I gotta choose?" he chuckled.

"No," I replied. "Just curious."

His hands now openly caressed my front, his eyes clearly excited. "I love it all. But maybe doggy."

I nodded. "Hot. But let me ride you like this, and you can pick the positions you wanna try."

"Sounds amazing, buddy," Ed grunted. I could tell he was still in thrall with the feeling of condom-less sex. "Only it should be good for you, too."

"It will be," I assured him. "Maybe let me cum missionary," I added. "Last time was crazy hot."

"Will do."

Ed watched me work up and down in his lap, his hands now gently gripping my waist to guide me. Then not so gently he held me steady while he pumped up into me. "Feel good, buddy?" he asked.

It wasn't a question, though. Stanley could read the pleasure in my face. "Fuck me, Ed."

He got an almost serious scowl on his face as he got into fuck mode, thrusting up deeper into me. "All right..." he finally urged. "Climb off."

I didn't know what he had in store, but as I knelt on the mattress, Coach S's thick body scrambled out from beneath me and moved to come from behind. I felt his hand on the middle of my back, pushing me forward. "All fours, buddy," he urged, a new horniness in his voice.

I felt his lube-slick prick nudge back into place and once again his hands gripped my waist to almost pull me back on to him.

The thrusts were urgent and hard now. Not rough, but I was being nailed by a very horny and very athletic man. "Tell me if it gets too rough," he instructed.

"Feels amazing," I replied. It did, too. I wouldn't say Ed Stanley was making me any less vers in my sexual inclination, but he was revealing to me that when I did bottom, I wanted a top like this. That girthy cock of his was riding hard and heavy over my prostate. I braced myself on the bed and felt my prick drip onto his bedsheets while my former teacher used my hole.

"Goddamn... my last load is frothing up on my cock," he said excitedly. Like he was living out some nasty porn video. Which in a way I guess we both were. "Fuuuuck!" His thursts jackhammered into me in rapid succession, until I felt them pause.

The hands on my waist now let go and ran up and down my sweaty back. "Don't wanna cum just yet," he said softly. Then he pulled out and gave my ass a light smack. "Why don't you lie on your stomach and pull one leg up."

I did as asked, turning back to look at his hungry eyes and sweaty body as I did. "You've been thinking a lot about this, haven't you."

His wet dick pulsed. "I have," he grunted. "I watch a hell of a lot of porn, and now I have my own Corbin Fisher guy in bed with me."

I pulled my left leg up toward my chest, feeling my ass crack and hole exposed to his gaze. "Just remember I'm not actually a professional at this, Coach."

He had an apologetic look on his face. "Got it," he said, then scooshed forward to line up his prick to my now-wet ring.

I was half turned on my side, half face down, in a scissor position. The entry was easier this time, aided by the limits the angle put on Coach's thrusts. He was taking it slow, too. Only I got to feel the extra depth of penetration as his cock bore deeper. All the while, those blue eyes were on me. Watching.

"I love seeing your hardon while I fuck you," he muttered.

"I told you, Coach... it's good for me, too."

It was like my words made him focus on me, and the pleasure I was getting from my insides. Slowly, he sawed in and out, eyes locked on me the whole time.

"I feel like I could come any minute," he said after a few minutes.

"Why don't you?" I asked. I was so turned on but also knew my relatively inexperienced ass would probably tire out within a couple more minutes of this.

"Don't want it to end," he said simply.

"You know I'm gonna let you fuck me again, Coach," I replied. "That is, if you want."

"Yeah?" he said a real sense of hope in his voice.

I nodded.

"Fuck... I'm so close, buddy," he said, now very slowly working in and out of me. "Ok if we try this on your stomach?"

I didn't reply. I just moved my legs down and stretched out on the bed. Coach Stanley stretched out on top of me, covering my back closely with his hairy bulk and his beard tickling the back of my neck. Already he was thrusting into me, not fast but hard, while his hands felt up my arms.

"This OK, Russ?" he asked.

"Feels great, Ed," I grunted. It did, too. I'd tried this with a couple of guys before, including my frat boy boyfriend, but Ed Stanley was bigger and furrier and meatier in his build. I loved the full contact and the weight of him on me. And I loved the thickness of his dick plowing me steadily. "You can go harder if you want."

I swear he growled, let out a real bear growl, when I said that. His hands now held my arms down and he just went for it. Hard deep shoves into my ass as he eagerly went for his nut.

"Oh my fuck..." he grunted. Then I heard a deep series of whimpers as the man came, deep in my ass for a second time, his body twitching and jerking on top of me. I didn't think I could come in this position, but I felt a pressure in my prostate that made me feel the urgent need. I reached down and touched my prick. I had enough lube left in my right palm to make it work. Just two strokes back and forth and I was entering my own deep orgasm.

"Oh shit," I hissed as I regained some consciousness. I'd never had a bottoming orgasm quite like that. My first with Coach Stanley had been about fantasy buttons and the way he pressed every one. This second nut was more purely physical, the way Coach's topping practically fucked the cum out of me.

Ed was already rolling off me and lying down to get face to face as I turned on my side. "I guess that was good for you, too, huh, Russ?" he asked.

"Jesus, Ed. I can barely think right now," I muttered, still catching my breath. "But yeah...."

His own chest was rising and falling and I could even sense his heart beat as he smiled at me. "I think you telling me I could do it again sometime... that was the trigger for me."

I looked down on the bedsheets, where my cum had soaked the fabric. "I'm afraid I left a big wet spot."

He smiled. "Well you gotta sleep in it... just kidding. We'll change the sheets," he said. "But I'm glad you liked that, because... goddamn...."

"Yeah," I agreed. I slid off the bed. "Can I get some water?" I asked.

"Help yourself in the kitchen," he replied.

I slid Ed's shorts back on and made my way to rehydrate. When I returned, he'd stripped the sheets and was putting on a new set. I helped him. He was bare chested in his sweat pants. If I hadn't just had two rounds of intensely incredible sex, I would have boned up just looking at him. As I watched him tuck one side in, he looked up, catching me staring. He winked, which made me blush.

He picked up the bundle of soiled sheets and turned back to. "Don't worry, Russ, I'm in the same boat," he said. "Like I said, it's like when I wanted to play with my new toy all Christmas day."

I laughed. "You mean I can't play with mine tomorrow morning?" I joked.

He smirked. "I didn't say that, buddy," he said. "I'll throw these in the wash. You feel like having another beer in front of the fire place? I have some scotch too, if that sounds better."

I'd never had scotch but I figured what the hell. This evening was about new experiences and getting to know Ed Stanley. "Scotch sounds good."

He nodded. "Put another log on the fire, if there's still embers. I'll tend to it in a minute."

"Yep," I said.

Coach S wasn't making a move to put a shirt on, so I didn't either. Maybe we'd need to fire to keep warm, but I enjoyed the half nakedness together.

Coach offered me a small glass filled with the brown liquor and went to get the fireplace roaring again. He settled back on the couch next to me. It was my turn to place my arm over his bare shoulder, feeling the hardness and the heat of his body.

He had a quiet content look on his face. "You know, Russ, I don't want this day to end."

My heart pounded. "It doesn't have to, Ed," I said. "Well, it does, but you know what I mean."

He nodded. "You're a special young man, Russ. You know that?"

I ran my fingers along his delt muscle. "You give me too much credit, Coach, but thanks." I tried to calm my breathing. It was just the sound of the fire and the snow had made everything outside dead quiet. "A while ago, you said I could say anything and you wouldn't just me." It was a question as much as a statement.

"I meant it, Russ."

I squeezed his shoulder. "I guess I'm pretty young still... but I've never felt things click with another guy like they have with you."

"Not even with your boyfriends?" Ed asked quietly.

"Not even with my boyfriends," I said. "Listen, I know that probably came off weird and clingy and..."

"Russ..." Ed interrupted me. "Will you go on a date with me?" I could hear the tension and anxiety in his voice and when he turned to me I could see it in his eyes, too. "Sometime this week, before you go back..."

"I don't want to get you in trouble, Ed," I said. "You know, with your job or anything."

"We'll figure that out," he said. "But you didn't answer my question."

I realized I'd been afraid not of my answer but how much I wanted to give it. "Yes, I'd love that, Ed."

"Good," he said, patting my leg.

We kissed, softly. I pushed my tongue into his mouth first this time.

When we parted we had goofy grins on our faces.

"You know..." Coach S said as he traced his hand up my pectoral muscle and over my neck. "Even if people do find out or there's any gossip... it'll be so fucking worth it."

I laughed, only to have Coach cut me off with another kiss, guiding me back down to a reclining position on his couch.

THE END?

#drakestories

185 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

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mrsshabana · 1 month

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𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary You've been anxious to see the vampire again after that first night. And when he comes, you learn just how binding your pact with him is. Your life will never be the same. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, modern au, vampires, blood, violence, corpses, biting ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.6k words

✧:･ﾟ→ Chapter One

Each shift after your encounter with the vampire was filled with anxiety. You would come in to work, hoping you wouldn’t see him but knowing that it was inevitable. Each day that passed without seeing him your anxiety grew more and more. Would he come today? Would he come tomorrow?

Well today was your lucky day, because there he is. As soon as you walk into the examination room you see the vampire curiously examining your tools. Scalpels, knives, bone saws, siphons. He looks up at you through his lashes, vibrant red orbs glaring at you.

He looks a lot different than before. Though still dead so to speak, his skin still pale and lifeless but he looks a lot healthier than before. Not so skinny and emaciated, he actually looks muscular under the black hoodie he’s wearing.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he growls, “You should have been expecting me.”

“I-I was um,” you stutter and put your things down at the desk, “I didn’t know which day you’d come.”

“Hm,” he hums, walking around the room. Eyeing you up and down.

“I never got your name,” your voice quivers as you attempt to make casual conversation in this not so casual situation.

“Gyutaro,” he states bluntly.

“Gyutaro? That’s a nice name,” you smile slightly, trying to hide your fear. “I’m -”

“I already know your name, Y/N,” he cuts you off, scoffing as if he’s annoyed by your attempt to introduce yourself, “Can we just get to the point already? I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here for you to keep up your end of the deal.”

“Right, sorry…” you apologize and quickly put on your gloves before heading into the back room where the cold lockers are. He promptly follows you, keeping his predatory gaze locked onto you. You can feel his stare drilling holes into your back.

The two of you enter the room, the cold temperature causing goosebumps on your skin. You look over the lockers, comparing dates until you find the most recent one. Pulling the handle, you open the locker to slide the body out. Revealing the corpse of a woman in her mid 50’s who passed away only 8-12 hours ago. Then you prepare your tools and begin to siphon the blood out of the corpse, filling up the same bucket as before.

Gyutaro stands behind you, watching you with a judgmental gaze. The scent of blood fills his nostrils but he’s able to control himself this time.

Once the bucket is mostly full you present it to him with shaky hands, nervous that he may go ravenous as he did last time. But he stands there unphased, with his arms crossed - looking down at you with a raised brow.

“This isn’t good enough,” he rasps.

“Wh-what do you mean?” you furrow your brows in confusion, looking into the bucket to see what's wrong. But the blood looks perfectly normal to you.

“This blood isn’t fresh.”

“Well yeah, I have to take it from corpses. It usually takes at least a few hours for the bodies to get to me,” you whimper, feeling afraid of how he will react.

“That’s not my problem,” he steps closer to you, “It’s yours.”

“B-But you liked the blood I gave you last time,” your eyes begin to water.

He scowls and raises his voice, “That was my first meal! I was desperate for anything, I was starving…” he looks down as if he had a sad memory but he quickly snaps out of it and gets in your face again, “Would you want to eat stale food every day? Yeah, I didn't think so. So you better find me some fresh blood or else.”

“But I can’t get fresh blood! I have no way of doing something like that,” your tears slowly begin to fall down your cheeks.

“You know what happens to humans who break a pact with a vampire?”

“N-No… what?” you sniffle.

“Let’s find out,” he grins and puts his cold hand on your shoulder. Opening his mouth, showing his deadly fangs.

“Ok ok!” you panic, “I’ll get you fresh blood!” You desperately agree, not wanting to find out what the consequences are of breaking a pact with him. You have no idea how you will manage to get fresh blood, but it doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice.

“Good,” he smirks and steps away from you. Though he does take the blood bucket from your hands, placing a finger inside then putting it in his mouth to get a taste.

“Ngh, that’s disgusting,” he coughs, “I’d only drink this if I was on the verge of death.”

You wipe the tears from your eyes and clean up the area. Putting the body back in the locker and cleaning your siphon before you go back to the examination room with the vampire.

He looks at you expectantly.

“What? I-I can’t get fresh blood for you that fast! I don’t even know how I’ll do it without, well… killing someone,” the thought of having to kill another human being almost brings you to tears.

“It’s not my problem that you’re completely incompetent,” he rolls his eyes, “You owe me fresh blood, and your first payment is now.”

Panicked, you look around the room. Trying to find anything to help you out of this predicament. It’s 11:42 pm, how the hell are you supposed to come up with fresh blood? It’s not like you can just walk up to a blood bank and ask for it. Let alone go to the extreme of killing someone. But you got yourself into this mess, so you have to do whatever it takes to keep your end of the deal.

You squeeze your eyes tightly and move your head back, revealing your neck to him, “Fine.”

“Wh-what are you doing?” his eyes widen in surprise and his voice softens.

“Take my blood. It’s the only option I have.”

“Are you sure…?” he takes a step closer to you, almost unable to believe you’re offering your own blood to him.

“Yes,” you nod, “I’m sure.”

He grabs your shoulders, your eyes shooting open from the sudden contact.

“Alright,” he sighs, looking down at you. His vibrant eyes staring into yours, “It’ll be easier if you lay down.”

You take a deep breath and nod. The only place to lie down is right here on the examination table. The metal feels ice cold as you hesitantly lay atop it. The fluorescent lights buzzing above you as Gyutaro looks down at you. This entire time he’s been cold and calculating, but this is the first time you’ve seen him look so unsure. So nervous.

Gyutaro carefully climbs onto the examination table, hovering above you. He can hear your heart beating, so fast that he feels like he can see the blood pulsing in your neck. His eyes dilate at the thought of piercing your delicate skin with his fangs.

Your breath hitches as he leans in. Getting closer to your neck with each second that passes. However, his movements are slow and gentle, much different than they were before.

You can’t avoid what happens next, no matter how much you wish you could. In the end, it’s your fault that you’re in this situation in the first place. So you might as well embrace it and make it as easy as possible. Turning your head to the side, you offer your neck to him.

Gyutaro slowly inches closer, the tip of his nose brushing against your ear - sending shivers down your spine.

He opens his mouth and you barely feel the softness of his lips caressing your skin before the stinging pain of his fangs puncturing your skin, sinking into your flesh and penetrating your veins.

You gasp and flinch from the initial sting, holding onto his shoulder for support. He groans deeply as your sweet blood touches his tongue, the taste more divine than anything that has ever breached his lips. He becomes lost in your saccharine nectar, losing himself in the addictive flavor of you. Without thinking he puts his hand on your waist, holding you still as he ever so slightly leans his body closer to yours.

Your fingers and toes begin to go numb, and your heartbeat skyrockets. The sound of your pounding heart is the only thing that snaps him out of it. Resulting in him unlatching from your neck just in time before you would lose consciousness.

The both of you pant heavily, trying to calm down from the intense experience. Gyutaro’s face goes red when he realizes how close he is to you and he quickly gets off of you, standing up beside the table.

You try to stand but you feel too light-headed to do so, Gyutaro puts a hand on your shoulder as if silently telling you to take it easy. You really don’t know how to feel at this moment. Scared? Relieved? Embarrassed? Probably a combination of all three, but you’re honestly just happy that he didn’t kill you.

“Thanks for being so gentle, Gyutaro…” you mutter.

His blush deepens, “Whatever… Just get me fresh blood by the end of the week. I can’t feed off of you every time. Your body won’t be able to handle it…”

“O-ok,” you gulp, “I’ll have it ready for you when you come back.”

“Good,” he hands you a piece of paper with a number written down, “That’s my phone number. Just in case you need something.”

“Thanks,” you say shyly as you stash the paper in your pocket for later.

“Just remember we aren’t friends, this is just business,” he scowls, looking back at you one last time before leaving out the window just as he had before.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyuutarou #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #vampire x reader #vampire au

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slayfics · 9 months

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Hi Slay💓💓 This idea has been on my mind for a while so I wanted to make a request for it!

So Muichiro (or Sir Iguro) went on a mission with y/n (his Tsuguko as usual). A few days past, they haven't encountered the demon and he took the chance to blurt out his feelings for her, because he worried they may not see each other again after this mission.

He asked for her answer again the day after and she was confused. Then he realized it was a demon that could shapeshift that he had confessed to. He was very disappointed and told y/n to forget about it :(

Or they encountered the demon again and she transformed into y/n again. And he could not bring himself to fight her because of his instinct to protect y/n.

Muichiro gets tricked by a shapeshifting demon.

The sun was just setting over the mountain as Muichiro continued on his way. It had been a few days now that Muichiro had been on a mission looking for a strong demon. The longer he got into his journey he wondered exactly how long it was going to take him to track down the demon.

He had an unusual amount of time to himself to think about his connection with you and how it had been growing the past few months. He started to feel as though there was a tug on his heart. He couldn't put this feeling into words but it seemed to grow with every step he took further from you.

"Hey, there you are!" He heard called out to him. Muichiro turned around and was shocked to see you.

"What- What are you doing here?" He asked, confused. "I thought you had another mission to go on?"

"I did! I finished already though and thought I could come to help you out," You said smiling sweetly.

Your smile tugged at his heart again, and he couldn't help but realize the joy he felt being in your presence.

"You were hard to catch up to, you know? I'm surprised I was able to," You said giggling.

"Right well I uh- I was just thinking about you," He said nervously unsure of how he was going to voice his thoughts.

"Oh really? What are the odds," You giggled. "What were you thinking about?" You asked curiously.

"I uh-" Muichiro stopped walking and turned to face you. "I kind of wanted to tell you something..." He said trailing off trying to find the words.

"Oh, what is it Muichiro?" You said sweetly.

Hu?

Muichiro tilted his head thinking it was strange that you addressed him by his first name... you had never done that before. He decided to push that aside for now and continue with his confession.

"I feel like the past few months we have been growing even closer and I- I've noticed how much you've been on my mind recently. When I'm with you I can remember all of our interactions and that's so rare for me. I've been thinking that has to mean something right?" He asked, eyes widening at his attempt at confessing his feelings.

"Oh- What do you think it means Muichiro?" You asked, heart rate increasing.

There it is again, Muichiro thought. He didn't mind you calling him by his first name but it was so out of character from you he was beginning to feel uncomfortable but decided to finish his confession.

"I think it means- that I- I see you as more than a friend..." He explained.

"Me really?" You asked.

Muichiro nodded shyly.

"Wow that's funny-" You said giggling.

Funny? Was that good? Muichiro wondered.

"Um- funny?" He asked, trying to clarify.

"Yeah it's just- why would I ever like you?" You said harshly.

Muichiro recoiled at your words, heartbroken by your response.

"It- it seemed like we had gotten a lot closer recently and I-" Muichiro was stunned by your continued laughter at his confession.

"Look at you so stunned. It's pathetic. You're a forgetful, sad excuse for a human." You spat.

Muichiro looked into your eyes, unbelieving of your harsh words, when he realized a slit in your eyes appeared. It became immediately clear to him you were not actually yourself. Muichiro unsheathed his sword and the demon began to slowly transform back into its real form, while still taunting him.

"You always feel like something is missing but you don't even know what. How pitiful can you get." The demon taunted. "I've seen your mind and it's so miserable, there's barely anything there," It laughed while moving forward to make an attack.

Within a few short moments, Muichiro was able to behead the demon with little effort and turned his back to the demon. As the demon's head hit the floor it continued to taunt Muichiro as it disintegrated.

"I hope you rethink your meritless confession. How could you ever love someone when you barely remember your own name? What a sad existence you live-" The demon spoke its final words.

Muichiro never turned back to look at the demon and didn't bother dignifying it with a response. As the demons words ceased Muichiro blinked hard and a single tear escaped him. Maybe he would wait a bit longer to confess his feelings to you...

AH! I’m so excited you finally requested from me! You know I had to fulfill this request from such an amazing artist! You’re precious Lala and I hope you enjoy this~

Tags~

@aeolia18 @muichirouswife @yandere-kou @sakurasunkiss @hashiroses @plvuii @snowmist-hashira

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happygirl2oo2 · 6 months

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Every reference I could find to Fitz's love of monkeys in Marvel's Agents of Shield, organized by episode numbers

According to this article, Fitz's love for monkeys comes from Iain de Caestecker's love for monkeys. The actor joked in season one about wanting a monkey sidekick for Fitz and it made it into the show's story. Fitz even has monkey figurines on his desk in early seasons.

season 1 episode 2:

FITZ: “I would love to see a capuchin in the wild. Maybe even a yellow-tailed woolly monkey. You know, um, Peru has 32 different species of monkey.”

season 1 episode 3:

FITZ: “If we had a monkey, we could get in.” SIMMONS: “Ugh, Fitz!” FITZ: “If we had a small monkey, he could slip through the sensors and disable the fence's power source with his adorable little hands.”

and

FITZ: “Did you hear the deadly lasers part? Without a brave monkey—”

season 1 episode 8:

FITZ: “Still, this is definitely the type of work a monkey could easily do.” WARD: “You're our little monkey.”

season 1 episode 16:

MAY: “What's this?" FITZ: "Um, say you need to tag a fleeing vehicle... or a wild monkey, if it was to get away from you.”

season 1 episode 22:

SIMMONS: “That means that every bit of energy inside us, every particle" *breathes deeply* "will go on to be a part of something else, maybe live as a dragonfish, a microbe, maybe burn in a supernova 10 billion years from now. And every part of us now was once a part of some other thing ... a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth.” FITZ, softly: “A monkey.” SIMMONS, also softly, accepting: “A monkey.”

season 2 episode 14:

Daisy: "Okay. But why am I suddenly feeling like old yeller right now?" Coulson: "Kind of surprised you know the reference." Daisy: "I've had a lot of downtime lately. That and Fitz really wants a dog." Coulson: "Thought he wanted a monkey." Daisy: "Guess he readjusted his expectations."

season 2 episode 16:

*When Fitz is packing up his stuff to leave, his three-monkeys statue is the first thing he's seen grabbing*

season 3 episode 21:

*When Fitz is getting ready for the broadcast with Talbot, he's making monkey noises as his vocals warm-up*

season 4 episode 3:

FITZ (counting his breath): “One chimpanzee, two chimpanzee. One chimpanzee, two chimpanzee.”

season 5 episode 5:

*Fitz is shown drawing monkeys on his cell's wall as a way to mark the passing of time while being there, instead of the regular line-markings that are usually used for that*

season 5 episode 16 (as Bobo is a common monkey name):

Jemma: "I was hoping you could tell me more about our future." Deke: "I mean, you saw it... It sucked." Jemma: "No, I mean Fitz and me. Do you recall any evidence of major injury, any noticeable scarring, perhaps?" Deke: "I don't remember you guys at all. I didn't even know your real names. Everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. changed them when they were getting hunted down. I just knew you as Nana and Bobo."

season 5 episode 21:

*when Simmons is packing up Fitz's things into the suitcase, his monkey statue from the earlier seasons can be seen among the things already in the suitcase*

season 6 episode 3:

SIMMONS: “Expecto Patronum! [a small hallucination of Fitz in a monkey suit appears on her straw] Hello, little monkey Fitz.”

season 6 episode 6:

*while in the memory of the night they first became friends, after Simmons tells Fitz she also remembers "how manic you were and thinking that genius is just a tick away from madness", the wall is seen suddenly covered in drawings of monkeys in the same way Fitz did to the wall in his cell in season 5 episode 5*

season 6 episode 8:

SIMMONS (about the events of s6ep3): "I saw you in a monkey outfit dancing." FITZ: "No, no, reverse on that bit, what do you mean you saw me in a monkey outfit dancing?"

season 7 episode 13:

*When Alya gets up from her bed in the pod to hug her mom, a few monkey dolls can be seen at the edge of her bed*

and

FITZ (about Alya): “This little monkey is punching me as hard as she can in the leg.”

#that man loves his monkeys #agents of shield #aos #leo fitz #leopold fitz #fitzsimmons #iain de caestecker #fitz's monkeys #monkeys #marvel's agents of shield #marvel cinematic universe #mcu

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ctitan98official · 3 months

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Professor Donna Beneviento x Y/N

18+ Minors DNI

So, I’ve seen a lot of fics where Alcina is a professor, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one focused on Donna as a professor so this is what I got. Y/N is a consenting ADULT. I made Donna a MILF because I’m obsessed with this idea. Let’s get into it!

Donna Beneviento taught visual art and art history at the local college.

She had developed great success and acclaim as a painter, but once she’d had her daughter, Angie, it was difficult to support them both on an artist’s salary. She needed stability and the glamor of gallery showings had quickly grown lackluster.

Donna was content, but she’d recently realized that it felt like something was missing from her life. She shouldn’t be so greedy, she told herself. She had a roof over her head, a precious toddler, and the love and support of her mother, brothers, and sister. What more should one person be entitled to?

Donna had been telling herself these unsatisfying mantras for weeks, but on the first day of classes, she finally found what she had been longing for (Although she wouldn’t know this until later).

Y/N, a senior, had wandered into her classroom about ten minutes before class was set to begin.

Donna was working quietly at her desk when she noticed them walk in.

Y/N offered her a friendly smile and waved. “Hi! Is this Intro To Visual Arts?” They asked in a relaxed voice.

Donna felt her face grow red as she looked at the attractive person in front of her. “U-um, yes! I’ll be your professor, Donna Beneviento.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as they looked at the beautiful woman. This was their professor?? Hell, if they’d have known that, they would have taken a lot more of their electives with her. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Professor Beneviento. I’m Y/N.” They said and held out their hand.

Donna couldn’t help the squeak that left her mouth at Y/N’s gesture. She cleared her throat and shook their hand gently.

Y/N grinned as they shook Donna’s dainty and soft little hand. “Is it cool if I grab a seat?” They asked.

Donna was brought out of her assessment of Y/N’s cute face by their question. “Oh, of course! Sit anywhere you’d like, Y/N.” She said.

“Great! I’ll snag one up here by you.” Y/N winked.

Donna felt like she was going to pass out so she quickly sat back at her desk and took a sip of tea.

“So, do you have a favorite artist?” Y/N asked as they sat at their desk and rummaged through their backpack for a pencil and some paper.

Donna was calmed slightly by the change in subject. “I have a few. Impressionism is my favorite style so I love Monet and Renoir.” She answered. “How about you?”

Y/N shrugged playfully. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m taking this class. I don’t know much about art.” They said with a smile.

Donna giggled at Y/N’s easy-going nature. “Then I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled warmly.

More students filed in shortly, but Y/N had Donna’s full attention.

As the semester went by, Donna and Y/N became very fond of one another.

The two would often chat while the rest of the class was working. Y/N may have asked for some unneeded assistance just for the excuse of talking with Donna a few times.

One day after class, Donna asked Y/N if they would like to come by her office to see a new painting she was working on.

Y/N eagerly nodded, touched that Donna wanted to show them.

“It’s not finished yet, but… Here it is.” Donna said as she led Y/N into her office.

Y/N was in shock. It was a painting of… Them? Why would Donna paint them? Could this mean that Donna thought about Y/N just as much as they thought about her? There must be some other explanation, they reasoned.

“I just… You inspire me, Y/N.” Donna said quietly.

Y/N said nothing but moved forward and gently cupped Donna’s face in their hands. “I can’t get you off of my mind. You’re in my thoughts, my dreams… You’re so special.” They said and leaned in to press a kiss on her lips.

Donna’s eyes widened in surprise. This is what she had been hoping for, but… Y/N’s lips against hers felt even better than she ever imagined. She eagerly wrapped her arms around Y/N’s neck and entangled her hands in Y/N’s hair.

Y/N and Donna eventually parted, but Donna kept her arms around Y/N’s neck.

“Wow. That was better than all of my fantasies.” Y/N blurted out in astonishment.

Donna giggled at Y/N’s awestruck face and rubbed her thumb on their cheek. “You’re adorable, cara mia.” She told them.

Y/N blushed at the nickname which only made Donna laugh harder.

“Not to be too forward, but would you like to go to dinner sometime?” Y/N asked, hoping Donna would agree.

“I’d love to, Y/N. Name the time and place. I’ll be there.” She answered and laid her head on Y/N’s chest.

“Um… Does this mean I passed my midterm?” Y/N joked.

Donna playfully swatted Y/N’s shoulder. “I think that remains to be seen.” She said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Y/N wondered why they hadn’t taken this class sooner.

Note: I loved writing this one! Hope you enjoyed!

Masterlist

#donna beneviento #re8 #re8 village #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x y/n #angie beneviento #resident evil village #resident evil imagines #resident evil 8 #resident evil #re8 shitpost #re8 incorrect quotes

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cottagecheese1 · 2 years

Text

Bowers gang having a athletic s/o

Henry bowers

First of all, being fit and able to do activities with ease is definite qualification you have to be with him. Um if you can't do that, you guys aren't gonna last long. 😭

If you are not physically fit, you don't have to be to your fullest extent, but if you get tired easily he will just bitch and moan about how you can't keep up with him. 😕😥

But if you are the sporty type. He likes having you around a lot for multiple reasons, but mostly because he wants to show you off because almost none of the girls in derry are as fit as you are, and that's a flex in his mind.

It's Henry Bowers so realistically he's not gonna be there for every one of your events but he usually comes 'if I feel like it' �� wdym? You thought you had a choice?

He's kinda impressed with a lot of the capabilities you have. You can be really strong or fast, he finds that really hot; and he makes sure you know that most of the time 😍

He doesn't want to talk about sports with you a lot because he feels like it would be out of place for you to talk about sports or anything masculine with him because your a woman, but he sometimes catches himself talking about football, or that baseball game last night because he can't help that he knows so much about it, and you do to, so he can't really help himself. 😭

If he's ever in private with you before or after your event he will end up having a makeout session with you for 'good luck' 🤨 we both know this isn't about the game buddy.

If your ever with belch or victor they'll toss around a football or a baseball with you once in a while (Patrick said he doesn't wanna do that with a girl so he's out of the picture rn) but they it's all fun and games till Henry shows up and feels all left out and shi. 😭

Overall he really likes you and loves how hot you are, and would end up doing a lot for you and wouldn't even realize it.

Patrick hockstetter

Now Patrick usually wouldn't go for athletic girls or any sporty woman for multiple reasons one because they're all usually really loud and usually very school spirit and he's not trying to get all the attention drawn on him. (He's also a slight misogynist he thinks women shouldn't play sports unless your a cheerleader or something).

He liked you because you were quiet and minded your own business most of the time. Plus he likes to watch your events to if he ever caught you any where.

He's definitely the person to stare at you and immediately look away and do something else if you catch him lacking.

Oh but when he finally asked you out and you said yes, he's coming to all of your games because its just an excuse to get out of his house.

he's actually not really a huge PDA person because like I said he's not trying to get everyone to notice him, but I never said he won't do it at all. He will kiss you and grope you a little bit before you go out to play/go your turn In whatever sport you play

Loves that you're physically fit; I mean you don't have to be, but he does find it incredibly sexy the way you can move around especially if your flexible. If you ask him to help you stretch he will most likely say yes no doubt about it.

You might have to explain some things to him about the sport you play, but don't ramble about it because then he'll get bored, and act like a little bit of an asshole unfortunately. 😭

If you want him to dress up for any school spirt weeks at football games or wear anything to support you; than you have to force him to do it because ain't no way he's gonna do that on his own and go out of his way to dress up for spirt week for anything. 😮‍💨

He may act like a bit of an asshole sometimes, but only really to mess with you, he doesn't actually wanna make you upset because that means he has to go out of his way to comfort you and in his mind thats a ton of work. 😭😭

Belch huggins

First of all he's kinda surprised you said yes when he asked you to be his girlfriend because in his eyes in a lot of perspectives he sees you as so much better than him because your athletic, and really skilled and he thinks he's like the opposite of that. (😭)

But as long as you reassure him that you love him for him than he feels a lot more confident and much better about being with you.

He likes to talk about you and the sports you do time to time he tries not to make it obvious because he knows Henry and the rest of them get tired of him talks about you but he can't help it. 😔

Anytime someone brings you up he's like "yea, that's my girlfriend lol" he loves to say it because nobody expects it at all.

If you're in private he'll rub your back or your legs if you're sore. He just wants an excuse to touch you. (He'll even use lotion if he's feeling extra generous)

You guys definitely go to homecoming together and you force him to dress up with you for spirt week. 🤩 (he secretly loves it)

He loves to drive you to your games in his Trans am, and likes to give you small sweet kisses and hugs because he it's for good luck.

He loves to watch you beat other people at sports and watch how skilled you actually are, and likes to bring it up if you're having an off day just to prove how much he actually pays attention to you and loves you.

If you specifically like one sport and you constantly talk about a team that you like. He'll buy you and him tickets to that certain event. He loves to see how excited you get and give him lots of kisses to prove how much you love him for doing that for you.

He loves a lot, and is intrigued with you half the time because of how mobile you are and how skilled and focused you can be on one thing.

Victor criss

He's so quiet the only reason you knew about him was because he was apart of the bowers gang and he always stared at you in class and in the hall ways or maybe at your sporting events.

He gave you a note that said

__________________________

I really like you. Do you wanna go on a date?

Yes □

No □ :)

_____________________________

You thought it was adorable and you said yes; you met up with him at the diner and he started talking about how much he likes you and thinks your the best on your team, plus he said he thinks you're really pretty 😍 (brownie points ig)

He's not a big pda or loud person, so he's always silently cheering you on, and will give you soft kisses in private but not in public. Not because he's embarrassed of you he just doesn't like everyone looking at him.

Definitely touching you in private doesn’t even have to be sexual he just likes to hold you and feel your body and traces your muscles, or lay on your thighs, and rub them; definitely ends up falling asleep like that when you start playing with his hair, and stroking his back.

He's good boyfriend so he gets you water and snacks during break because he loves you.

Overall he's such a sweetheart in private and may be a little conservative in public, but he does care about you, and finds you fascinating. 😍

A/n: this took 2 days but my request are always open, and I'm posting a masterlist so you can pick anyone you want in that category, so make sure to check that out! 💗

●●●●● Masterlist ●●●●●

#patrick hocksetter x reader #bowers gang #slasher x reader #it chap 1 #patrick hockstetter #henry bowers #belch huggins #henry bowers x reader #belch huggins x reader #victor criss #victor criss x reader #bowers gang x reader #slasher imagines #it chapter two #losers

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justmeinadaze · 1 year

Text

I'm In Control Part 22 (Steddie X You)

A/N: I based readers dress off of this picture here.

Enjoy the feeeeeeeels *evil laughs*

Warnings: Daddy Steve/Sir Eddie and all that that implies ( I regret nothing!), another run in with Cassie, smut, fluff, and angst.

Word Count: 5306

TJ skids into your office excitedly, a huge grin plastered on his face.

“Dude, it’s totally ok to just walk into my office.”

Your boss playfully scowls at you before pointing at Eddie. “You, angel, have been spending too much time around him. Did you just call me dude?”

“I’m sorry, sir. How can I help you today?”

“Gross. Don’t call me that either.”

“What do you want, TJ?”, you laugh.

“Have you guys heard?” He sighs when everyone shakes their head. “You two have been nominated for an AVN award.”

“And that means…” Your boss glares at Steve as you smile at them.

“How have you two never heard of the Adult Video News awards? It’s like the Oscars of this industry.”

Their eyes shift to you as nod, affirming.

“Oh, cool.”

TJ growls as he turns towards you. “Please, after you take them to get fitted for suits, can you do something to make them more excited?”

“We have suits.”, Steve chuckles.

“Yes, but I can’t trust you two to actually wear them so I thought maybe if I bought you both one you will feel obligated to look nice for me. Obviously, there will be a lot of important people there. Don’t shame me.”

“Are you not coming?”, you ask.

“Nope. Luke is hosting the after party so I’m helping him out there. You, young lady, will be going but I beg you…” Your boss comes around to your side of the desk and gets down on his knees. “Please, don’t give Trisha Jameson any attitude.”

“I can’t promise you that.”

“Don’t worry, TJ. We’ll keep her in line.”, Eddie winks at you.

“And you two, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you leaving a shoot last week. We need to talk about that. Cassie Leigh’s agent was extremely upset.” You glanced at them as your boss leaned against your desk with his back to you. “What happened?”

“We, um, have a history with her. Not exactly a professional one.” You watched Steve as he shifted in his seat. You three knew he may ask questions and they both insisted on taking all the blame if it came up. At the time, they weren’t sure what they would even say so you were surprised when he answered honestly.

“Oh…Oh. Um, I mean… I make jokes about you guys being in a relationship with the same person but I didn’t realize…I mean, no judgements, of course! Did you know about this?” You quietly shake your head when he turns to you. “Now you know what I’m going to say. It’s not uncommon for exes to still do the job… unless there’s a reason.”

“Besides the fact that she’s a bitch?”

TJ rolls his eyes, chuckling as he rises and heads for the door. “I swear. You guys spend why too much time together.”

#################

“He said it was like the Oscars, not the actual Oscars. Why do we have to dress this nice?”

“Eddie, calm down. It’s a three-piece suit, not a tux for prom.”, you giggle.

“I didn’t even wear a tux to prom!”

“I did. That thing was a pain the ass to get off.”

“For you to get off, Steve? Or the date you brought?”

“Ah ha ha, little one. You’re so funny.” He smiles as he steps out of the changing room, giving you a 180. “What do you think?”

What did you think? Jesus, you didn’t have enough breath left in your lungs to answer him. Steve looked so handsome.

“Uh oh. Eds, tread carefully. We may be bordering the line here.”

“Huh? What line?” Eddie steps out of the opposite changing room, adjusting his cuffs. When his eyes met your glassy ones, he nodded in understanding. “Okay, come back, sweetheart because I need you to tell me if I did this right.”

Tossing your phone on the chair behind you, you go to him and run your hands down his chest as you smile.

“You put it on correctly, Mr. Munson. God, you both look amazing.”

“Wow, look at these two strapping gentlemen.” You pull yourself away as one of the workers rounds the corner and takes Steve’s hand to guide him on to the platform in front of a mirror.

“What did you wear to prom? I picture like something big and poofy.”, he laughs.

“Oh, I didn’t go to prom.” He looked at you through the mirror as Eddie came to sit beside you. “Again, not that shocking. I mean, you guys have seen Carrie, right?”

“I see. So you were afraid to go because you would kill everyone with your psychic powers?” You laughed at the metalhead as you hit his arm.

“No! The low-cut dresses, the music, the dancing…all of that was a no go. I mean I’m not sad about it or anything. From what I hear from other people, I didn’t miss much.”

They glance at each other before switching places and Steve sits beside you to take your hand. “You still should have gotten to experience that for yourself.”

#############

“Fuck me…”, Eddie exhaled as you opened the door to their knock.

“Wow. Honey…you look…” You blushed as Steve struggled to find the right words.

“Do you guys like it?”, you ask as you gesture at your dress. TJ gave you his card insisting you buy something stunning as well. After seeing how delicious they had looked in their suits, you wanted to make sure you found something equally as delectable.

It was an elegant, strapless dress but still showed off your body in all the right places, cutting off a little above the knee. The black color accentuated your hips and the matching shoes gave you an air of confidence that had the boys swooning.

“We love it.”, Eddie grins as he leans down to kiss your cheek. “I love this necklace to by the way. I don’t think I’ve seen you wear it.”

“Very good, Mr. Munson. I haven’t because I just bought it.” You beam up at them with a giddy grin. “These different colors here spell out something in morse code. Can you read it?”

When they shake their heads, you chuckle and hand them separate velvet boxes. Wide smiles stretch across their face as they pull out the leather-bound bracelets with “Daddy” and “Sir” engraved on the inside of the silver clasp.

“It says ‘Theirs’.” You watch with excitement as they immediately put the jewelry on their wrists. “I saw it online when I was researching something and I thought I just had to get it.”

“This is perfect. Thank you, baby.” Steve pulls you into his arms before Eddie does the same.

“We need to get a move on or we’re going to be late.”

Taking both their elbows, they guide you towards the awaiting limo.

###########

“Wow, there is an actual red carpet.”, Eddie muses as he looks out the window.

“They may separate us at some point but we are sitting together.”

“Um…is there a way that could not happen.” You glance at Steve who you notice seems more nervous than usual.

“Hey. Don’t forget. They are all here because of you. You both are amazing at what you do. Just be yourselves.” He leans forward giving you a quick peck on the lips and you turn your head to give Eddie one as well. “You’re going to be fine.”

The limo door abruptly opens as the three of you are practically pulled out into the chaos. A coordinator from the show guides you towards designated areas, giving you the play by play of the evening. She yanks you to the side and pushes the boys forward into flashing camera lenses as she continues to speak. Your eyes remain on them, barely listening to a word she says.

Reporters for websites split them apart to ask them questions and you see them stiffen at the action. If you can’t be next to them, at least they have each other but the further they move them the more you see the worry cloud over their confidence.

“How much longer do they have to do this?”

“Um, probably another five minutes and then we can go inside. If you want to wait in there, I can—”

“No, It’s ok. I can wait here.”

After what feels like hours, the three of you are finally able to go inside the venue with all the other guests.

“Jesus Christ. Ever wonder what it’s like to walk into a room full of people you’ve slept with?”, Eddie chuckles under his breath.

“You okay?”, you whisper.

“Yeah, just…this is weird.”

“Shit. Heads up, Munson. It’s about to get weirder.”, Steve growls.

“Hey boys.”, Cassie Leigh grins as she saunters towards your group. “And…Y/N, right?”

You nod as you politely smile in her direction. “I heard you two were nominated tonight. That’s amazing. My, uh, date over there is nominated for something as well.”

“Y/N!”

Your body visible cringes as you shudder. “Is this hell? Am I in hell right now?”

Trisha Jameson comes up to you, bending down to give you a big, obnoxious hug. “Wow, you three look fantastic! Congratulations, boys. It seems someone is looking out for you!”

“Yeah, um, Y/N is great at what she does.” Eddie compliments you and you can’t help but blush.

“You bet she is. Well, little one, I will see you in there! Good luck.”, she sings as she wraps her arm around her date and heads into the auditorium.

You start to angrily follow after her but Steve grins, grabbing your arm, and pulling you back. “I hate when she calls me that.”

The three of you notice Cassie is still standing there watching you with amusement.

“Is there something else we can do for you, Cassandra?”

Light shines through her eyes as she tilts her head. “Oh, I get it. This is the girl. The one you guys said you were in love with.”

Your eyes shift between them, watching them both shift from nervous to protective in the blink of an eye.

“No, I mean it makes sense. She’s beautiful, powerful, and from the one interaction we had can definitely handle herself. I imagine she’s fun to take apart. Right, Sir? Eddie always had a thing for brats. Daddy liked them to a point. I mean—”

“Cassie, I don’t care. I know what you’re doing and I promise you it won’t work. They aren’t the same men you left behind without so much as a fucking goodbye.”

“Oh? And what makes you think you know anything about what happened? You think men like them change?”, she scoffs.

“Then why are you here? Just go about your life and leave them be. You did it once you can do it again. Whether you like it or not they are mine. Now, my understanding is they both asked you nicely to stay away from them. I’m a little different but allow me to be as clear as I can. If I ever see your face again or they tell me that you tried popping up on another set or some bullshit like that… I will make it so you never get another acting job in this town again. Do you understand me?”

Her heels clicked against the tile as she brought her face to yours. “Are you threatening me?”

You matched her, taking one step forward. “Yes, I am.”

The boy’s shoulders connected as they stepped between you two, bumping Cassie backwards.

“If you hit her or cause a scene, Cassandra, I will help her follow through with that promise.” Steve glared down at her.

Her cheeks puffed out as she turned around and marched towards her date like a little girl being told to go to her room.

“Again, gentlemen. Just a charmer that one.” They both separated as Eddie reached out to push some hair behind your ear. “Was she about to hit me?”

“Uh huh. We saw that look many times.”

“Eddie… I don’t like that.” You reached forward, placing your palm his cheek.

“It wasn’t a big deal—”

“Steve don’t say that. She shouldn’t be putting her hands on you guys like that.”

“We’ve smacked each other.”, he chuckles as he places a comforting kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah, when we play. You would never really hurt me like that. Even after everything we’ve been through, I’ve never been afraid of you two physically and I hope you know I would never—”

“Honestly, I don’t think you’ve ever hurt us. Physically or emotionally.” Eddie sighs as you watch his brain through his eyes wonder through every tough experience they’ve put you through. “Jesus, you really are an angel.”

###########

The three of you giggled hysterically as you climbed back into the awaiting limo a few hours later, them clinging to their newly won awards. They completely froze when their names were called and adorably stumbled up to the stage to accept their prize.

“Wow. Um, I don’t even know what to say… we genuinely didn’t think we’d even win. Um, thank you for the honor and giving us a chance to work with you. To our agent, Y/N, and TJ, our lives completely changed when we signed with you guys. Thank you for everything.”, Steve smiled as he stepped back and Eddie quickly cut in.

“And to our girlfriend, thank you for being patient with us and just being you. We wouldn’t be here without you, sweetheart. Love you so much!”

“You know this means you’re going to be getting a lot more high-profile jobs now.”, you grin at them as they continue to stare at the words on the trophy.

“Wayne is going to trip when I send this to him.” Eddie laughs when he glances at you. “Baby, we don’t need two of the same statues in one house. They have both our names on it. We can keep Steve’s. Plus, my uncle will think it’s cool.”

“I’m so proud of both of you. Are you ready to go to the after party?”

“Actually, honey, TJ said we didn’t have to go. I mean, he heavily implied he would like us to go but he said it was our choice. That being said…”

Your startled when you feel the velvet blindfold being placed over your eyes. “Hey! What’s going on?”

“We have a surprise for you. We’re on the way so for the time being just sit back and relax.” Steve’s soft tone filled your ears and you did as he suggested, leaning into one of their chests as you sighed. “Why are you smiling like that, pretty girl?”

“Because even with a blindfold, it doesn’t take me long to figure out who’s near me. No matter how much cologne he puts on, I can still smell the cigarettes.”, you giggle as you keen into Eddie’s neck and kiss his skin.

“Look, I do what I can but I’ve been smoking for years!”

“No… I wasn’t saying it like it’s a bad thing!” Your hand blindly reaches up to find his hair, running your fingers through it. “It’s a part of you. I love the way you smell.”

“Munson…no!” Steve laughs as you smile, feeling a calloused palm trail along you knee. “It’s not fair. You can’t wind her up yet! We still have a whole thing planned.”

“Oh, come on! Like you never felt up your date in the back of a limo.”, the metalhead countered as he whines. “Stevie…she looks so gooooood. Plus, I’ve been turned on since she put Cassie in her place.”

“Patience is a virtue, Mr. Munson.”

“Yeah, Mr. Munson.”, Steve teases.

“Is this a Daddy and Sir venture?”

“No, princess. This is something you should have had a long time ago.” Eddie tenderly kisses your temple as you lean closer to him. Fingers mingle with your own and your head tilts slightly as a thought crosses your mind.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

“How did it feel? Hearing Cassie refer to you both with your titles…” They both exhale heavily making you laugh. “That bad, huh?”

“It feels like… a violation. Remember when we started this and told you it was personal for us? She gave up the right to call us that a long time ago. The fact that she thinks she can just show up and fucking refer to us that way—”

Your hands search for Steve’s face when you hear the agitation in his voice.

“How did it make you feel?”, Eddie asked behind you.

“Angry…protective…a little bit possessive.” They chuckle at your answer. “Of them…not you two. I’m not worried about her seducing you away from me or anything but… they’re mine. You’re MY Daddy.” Your fingers gently caress Steve before reaching to touch Eddie. “You’re MY Master.”

“God damn, Harrington. You can’t tell me you don’t want to fuck her now.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to but we can’t. Not yet but I promise you one thing, little miss. When we get back home you definitely deserve a reward.

##############

“Alright, honey. Just a little further.”

When the limo finally stopped at its destination, they kept you blind while guiding you through a building. At least you assumed it was a building with the way your heels sounded against the floor. Wherever they had taken you it was dark as any lighting within the mask was now shaded over.

You felt them place you somewhere as one of them steps away from you. Eddie did a count down, removing the blindfold after one.

“Oh, wow.”

They had brought you to a ballroom that was decorated from head to toe with silver streamers and a disco ball hanging in the middle of an open dance floor. Along the wall behind a DJ booth was a banner that read “High School Prom”.

“Yeah, it helps the aesthetic when the nearby school just had their prom here. That being said, why a disco ball?”, Eddie laughs.

“Guys…” Your hand flew to your chest as you tried not cry. “Why…you…I don’t know what to say.”

Steve smiled as he reached for your wrist, sliding a pink corsage around it before bowing down to kiss the back of your hand. Eddie did the same, placing a black corsage around you as his hand caressed your skin.

“You deserve to have this experience. It’s one thing if you didn’t want to go. It’s another when they didn’t allow it. Now, we don’t have a photographer so everyone smile.” Steve held up his phone, taking a picture as you three struck a pose.

“Ok, should we do cheesy typical prom songs or? I guess we kind of have to depending on what’s up here.” Eddie browsed through the collection as he spoke. You wrapped your arms around his waist, grinning as you point to album.

“Really? Fiiiiine. I guess it would count has both cheesy and different. It’s your dance, princess.” He kisses your forehead before pulling out the record and climbing on the makeshift stage to get everything connected.

You saunter towards Steve reaching your arms out to him so you can tug him to the middle of the dance floor. Taylor Swift’s “Lover” begins to play through the speakers and you grin as he places one of his hands on your lower back while holding your other in the air as you both begin to sway.

“You know, if you had told me the cocky men I met in my office those many months ago would be the loves of my life I never would have believed you.”

“Hm. Now who’s being cliché?”

You giggle as he dips you in his arms before twirling you towards Eddie who places both his palms on your waist while you hold his shoulders.

“Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my Lover”

“Seriously though, I remember Steve was wearing his ‘I’m a dad on a Saturday’ look—”

“What does that even mean?”, the boy laughs.

“She’s talking about your shorts with the socks and douchebag flipflops.”

Your smile grows as you lean your forehead against his. “You were wearing all black in this California heat.”

“Forever my style, babe.” Eddie kisses your lips before spinning you back to Steve.

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand? With every guitar string scar on my hand I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you.”

“You guys were so intimidating at first and that wasn’t just because you were my first clients ever. I was trying so hard to keep everything professional but looking back on it now…I knew. I knew I was yours the moment you sat across from my desk.”

Steve made a little huh sound as he leaned down to kiss your lips. “Ew. What was that?”, you giggled.

“I just think it’s cute.”

“What? That I liked you immediately?”

“That it took you that long.”, Eddie smiles. “We were into you from the moment you stepped into the lobby.”

Blushing, you hugged yourself tighter to Steve, pressing your face into his chest.

“Uh oh, Ed. We’re breaking her.”

“You’re too sweet to me.” After releasing him from your grip, you beam at them both. “So, what else does one do on prom night?”

#############

The entire ride back home was a blur of kisses and desperate touches. Eddie carries you in his arms through their front door as you leave heated kisses along his neck.

“Ok…ok…time out.”, he pants as he places you on your feet. “Jesus, I’m gonna cum before we even start.”

“Um, Ed. I love you and all but you forgot something.”

The metalhead looks around realizing you hadn’t followed him to the bedroom. They poked their head out to find you staring into the room that had once been occupied. You slowly step in and take in your surroundings. Against the wall was a desk like the one you had in your office with a comfy looking desk chair and a couch against the adjacent wall. Eddie’s band posters were still on the wall, knowing you enjoyed them as well and his guitar was still in the corner.

“I thought maybe I could keep you company in here while you worked; practice playing and things like that.”

They had been leaning in the doorway, watching you carefully as they tried to get a read on what you were feeling.

Upon closer inspection of your desk, you noticed there were two framed pictures. One was of you and Matthew making a goofy face on his motorcycle. The other was the one Steve had taken at the restaurant of you three when you surprised Eddie with his special day.

“We flipped a coin to see whose room we would keep. Mine would have been easier since it’s actually fucking clean.”, Steve chuckles as Eddie rolls his eyes. “But… do you like it? Of course, you can add anything you want. We just thought—”

You jumped into his arms cutting him off with your lips. “I love it. Thank you. Thank you both.”

The man carried you back to their bedroom, falling with you onto the mattress. They carefully undress you, knowing your dress was most likely expensive before gradually removing their own pricey garments. As Steve’s lips suck on your neck, Eddie’s fingers reach to graze your necklace.

“I really like this. It looks beautiful on you. To be fair, you look gorgeous in everything but…” He grins down at you as you blush. “We’ll have to find one of these for your bad days that say ‘brat’ on it.”

You playfully gasp at his remark. “Sir, I am always a good girl!”

Steve’s cheek brushed yours, his head falling beside you as he laughed. Eddie lightly gripped your jaw, holding you still as he kissed your lips.

“You’re something alright. Hey, Daddy.” The metalhead shook his friend’s shoulder. “Didn’t you say something about giving little miss here a reward?”

“Yes, Sir, I did.”

“Oh, guys. No. You’ve done a lot for me already tonight.”

They smile as their lips tandemly trail down your body.

“Ooo, Daddy. I don’t know about you but that sounds like talking back to me. Definitely brat behavior.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

“Not for long, honey.”, Steve chuckles as he situates himself between your legs. Eddie hovers by your waist just above him, opening your pussy lips with his fingers.

“Fuck, princess. So wet already.” You moan as he slowly rubs circles into your clit while Steve’s tongue inserts itself into your needy entrance. “Now, baby, you don’t have to ask to cum. Our mouths are going to be a bit preoccupied.” He winks at you and before you can respond his mouth envelopes your nub causing you to cry out in pleasure.

You had never felt anything like this in your life. Having both their tongues between your legs was pure ecstasy and you couldn’t get enough.

“Oh my god. That feels so fucking good.” Reaching down, you run your fingers through Eddie’s mess of hair, your hips grinding against them.

Steve groaned as you pussy fluttered around him, pushing his face further into your sex. You leaned up on your elbows to watch them, whimpering at the sight, not just because of what they were doing but because they were yours. These two handsome, sexy, sweet, funny, dorks were yours.

You threw your head back, moaning and begging as you came. Eddie chuckled when he felt you lightly pulling at him, smiling up at you as his mouth trailed feathery light kisses up your stomach to your neck.

“I want you, baby. Please. I need to feel you.”

His lips quickly peck yours before flipping on to his back and pulling you on top of him. You both groan as you guide his cock into you, grinding your hips against his. Eddie’s rough hands snake around the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his, hips jutting up to meet yours as you push yourself up and meet his beautiful brown eyes.

“Mine.”, you whisper.

“Fuck. Yeah, pretty girl. Yours.”

“Yours?”

He breathily laughs as his palms run along your sides. “Always, princess.”

“Show me, Sir. Please.”

Eddie’s arm wraps around your lower back, flipping you around and lifting your leg over his shoulder as he starts thrusting into you. His fingers dig into your thighs as his cock pushes deeper into you making you mewl at the feeling. You were so transfixed on him and the gleams of sweat shimmering of his gorgeous, tattooed chest, you hadn’t even heard Steve panting beside you as he stroked himself at the sounds you were making.

You reach out for him and his lips descended on yours for a moment before drifting down your body, stopping near your waist. Eddie opened your legs wider giving the other boy more access to you as mouth wrapped around your clit.

“Fuck me! Oh my god.”

“Jesus Christ…”, the metalhead grunts as your pussy clings to him like a vice. “Cum, baby, please. I…I’m not going to last much longer here if you… fucking keep gripping me like that.”

Steve flicks his tongue faster against your nub helping you get there as you cum hard. Eddie soon follows, lifting your hips as he fills you up.

He pulls out, collapsing beside you as Steve takes his place between your legs with his body flat against your own.

“You ok, little miss? Do you think you can handle me to?”, he whispers as his lips gently kiss your neck toward your ear. “It’s ok if you can’t, honey. Be honest.”

Your hands circle around to his shoulders as your legs capture his waist. “Please, Daddy. Show me like he did.” Steve lifts his head, hovering his mouth over yours. “Show me I’m yours.”

His lips part, eyes squeezing shut as he easily slides into you and bottoms out almost instantly. He moves at a steady pace, trying not to overwhelm you or himself.

“Fuck, baby girl. You’re so… Jesus…”

“Tell me, Daddy.”

Eddie’s fingers grabbed your cheeks as he turned you to passionately kiss your lips. As his tongue mingled with your own, your whimpered as your cunt gripped Steve, dragging along his cock.

“God damn it.” His head fell beside yours as you continued to kiss the metalhead. “I’m…I’m not going to last long—mmm—either. Fuck, this IS my prom night.” He smiled when he felt you softly giggle. “You’re so tight. You—mmm—you have no idea how fucking…amazing you feel. Shit…Ed, help me. I don’t think…”

Eddie’s forehead remains pressed to yours as you watch him lick the pads of his fingers before bringing them to your swollen bundle of nerves. You turn to face Steve, your eyes locking on his as cum. His own roll back as he falls against you, grinding his hips roughly into yours until he sputters and you feel him release inside of you.

As he gradually pulls out of you, you hiss at the feeling.

“What’s wrong, honey? Are you ok?”

“Yeah…sore.”

Eddie chuckles beside you as you both turn to look at him. “No, sorry. I’m not laughing at her pain. Just the fact that she’s still not using full sentences.”

“It’s not my fault you both take my breath away.”

“Well, that was fucking cute.” Steve grins as he kisses your forehead.

###########

“Hey TJ. Oooo, are you alright? You look upset.”

Your boss called you into his office that following Monday morning and you assumed it was about them winning their award but something about his face made you realize whatever was going on it was serious.

“Yeah, angel, I am a little bit. I, um, I was going through the photos they took at the AVN ceremony. I thought maybe I could put a few on our website, you know.”

TJ turns his computer screen to show you some images causing your stomach to drop. You felt him watch your face as he scrolled through pictures of you caressing Eddie’s face and Steve kissing your forehead.

“Now, I know you and I know you can be a bit touchy feely but… Y/N, it would explain some things.” He sighs as your eyes meet his. “Ok…”

##############

“I’m not going to lie, I expected TJ to like tackle us when we came in.”, Eddie grinned as they both entered your office.

“For real. Is he upset we didn’t go to the—” Steve paused when he noticed you weren’t at your desk like you normally were but on the couch further away with your face in your palms. “Honey?”

When you placed your hands in your lap and they saw your tear-streaked face, they immediately dropped into that protective mode.

“Y/N, what happened?”, Eddie asked as he kneeled in front of you while Steve took the spot beside you, his fingers pulling your hair out of your face.

“Um… so a photographer at the event the other night took some photos and, uh, TJ saw them. Photos of the three of us…after the thing with Cassie…”

“Baby…”

“Technically, I’m not fired. I’m, uh, suspended until TJ figures out what he wants to do… so someone else in the company will look after you and Avery…” You broke then, no longer able to keep it together as you cried.

Eddie laid his head on your lap, hugging his arms around your legs as Steve wrapped his around your shoulders bringing your head to his chest.

##################

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