( i asked this a sec ago but i forgot to add somethin in) Can u do a 🔥 steamy 🌶 fanfic of beetljuice and his s/o and DEF include a part where his hair changes colors i love that!! Thank uu!
Okay, okay... I surrender! Apparently, this is what you guys have been waiting for.... So here it is! Thought I’d go ahead and mix two requests into one, hopefully you guys won’t mind. All right then.
Time to turn the heat up! 🔥🔥🔥
Beetlejuice being possessive with his s/o
You’ve barely set foot inside your house and closed the door behind you when you hear his voice. You jump, closing your eyes and clutching your keys to your chest. You knew he’d be waiting, of course. But seeing his silhouette appear in the semi dark hallway still catches your off guard. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, and turn on the lights. There he is, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed on his chest.
“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath.
“Nope, wrong guy,” he immediately snaps back.
You roll your eyes at him, “Seriously? Give me a break, Beej. It’s too late for this kind of crap…” You turn to set down your keys and purse on the coffee table by the door.
“So I’ve noticed,” his words are dripping with poisonous sarcasm, and you turn back to look at him with a frown.
“Ex-cuse me?”
Your words come out slightly slurred because you have, in fact, been drinking. But of course, you still try to pretend as if you’re perfectly fine. Your head may be spinning a bit, but you’re positive it’ll stop soon. Soon enough at least. Right?
However, you do an involuntary double take when you manage to finally get a good look at him. Although he’s wearing his usual striped suit, his trademark jacket is missing and he’s rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. This ruffled up, disheveled look makes him look…different. For lack of a better word, you’d almost say it makes him look… well, hot. But that’s not the only thing you notice. His hair, usually a bright emerald green, has turned a shiny, angry shade of red. You know his hair color changes based on his mood…but you’ve never seen it turn red before. For a brief moment, you wonder if you should be worried. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, after all.
He catches you staring at his locks and snickers, “I could smell the alcohol from the moment you stepped on the driveway.”
His snide remark wipes away your worry: of course you shouldn’t be scared. He’s just being an overly dramatic asshole, as usual. You make a silent ‘tsk’ sound as you brush past him, heading for the kitchen. If he thinks you’re willing to put up with his bullshit - especially with this much alcohol in your body - he’s got another thing coming. Better to focus on more important stuff. First things first: you need to drink a shitload of water. You head for the fridge, humming as you take out a water bottle and then turn to fetch yourself a cup. You can feel him standing behind you. Clearly, he didn’t wait too long to follow you.
You barely glance up at him, raising an eyebrow, “…Out to dinner, clearly?”
He snorts, “Dressed up like that? Where was the dinner, in a strip club?”
“Ew,” you set the cup down and give him a disgusted look, “What the fuck does that even mean? What is up with you tonight?”
“Me? Oh, nothing babes,” he answers, mockingly raising his hands defensively, “Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Everything’s fine…just peachy, actually.”
You observe him intently as you drain your second cup of water. His eyes are brooding and dark as he stares right back at you, stepping closer and inspecting you from head to tow. “I’ve got absolutely nothing to say,” he continues, shrugging, “You, on the other hand…”
“Well, don’t ask me! You’re the one who’s out and about, wandering in the middle of the night, having the fucking time of her life getting wasted and prancing around like a hooker…”
“Hey, cut it out!” You protest, reaching out to smack him, “What the fuck is your problem with my dress?”
He laughs bitterly. “You call that skimpy excuse of a skirt a dress? Seriously?”
You stare at him. Your outfit is a simple, elegant red dress. It’s cut just above your knee - granted, a little shorter than you’d normally wear, maybe - and it wraps smugly around your waist before flaring out in a simple gown. It’s honestly nothing scandalous. Maybe just a little sexier than usual, paired with the high heeled shoes you’re wearing. Maybe.
“Oh my God, Beej, will you get over yourself?” You sigh in exasperation, “Just because you see me wearing leggings and t-shirts all the time around the house doesn’t mean I can’t dress up every once in a while, you know?”
“Sure, sure…” he murmurs, “I mean…after all, that’s one easy way to impress a son of a bitch, right?”
“Excuse me?” You have to laugh. He’s being so blindly jealous right now, it’s almost embarrassing. Maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had, but you’re suddenly feeling quite keen to have a little fun with him. “Since when do you care who I hang out with?”
“What gave you the impression that I care?” He retorts promptly, mimicking your voice….and proving your point. Yeah, still. Tough luck getting him to admit it.
Your phone rings, and you reach for it. It’s a message. You read it and smile to yourself. The poor sap. Hasn’t even left you for ten minutes and he’s already blowing up your phone with goodnight texts. You shake your head and sigh. If only he knew…
“Hey, I’m still talking to you!”
Your attention snaps back to the present. For a moment, you’d lost track of the conversation.
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. You haven’t shut up for a minute since I came back.”
“Then stop ignoring me,” he warns, stepping right in front of you and staring you down.
“Or what?” You challenge him, refusing to look away.
His eyes narrow and his stance turns rigid. He takes a long, deep breath, piercing you with his cold, hard stare. You feel a chill run up your spine but stubbornly ignore it. The alcohol is making you feel braver than you are, apparently.
“Don’t…push….me.” he growls, actually baring his teeth for a second. You notice his hair glaze over with different shades of red, as if it were scalding hot. For a moment you pause, wondering what the best next step could be. You may be fueled by liquid courage, but you’re not an idiot. You know better than to upset him. And truthfully, you’ve never seen him so worked up before. Better to cut it out and move on to something else. Or at least, you can try. You quickly decide that getting a little bit away from him may be the smart thing to do.
“Well you are being unnecessarily paranoid and rude to me right now, and I need to go get some sleep. So if you don’t mind…” you remark matter-of-factly, turning on your heels and heading towards your bedroom.
He stays still, staring after you. But of course, you know he’s not about to let this matter drop. At all. A part of you is feeling confident and tries to convince you that you’re doing the right thing, but another part starts questioning if it was a good idea to go through with all this crap. You reach the bedroom and head for the bathroom to change in your pjs, thinking back to how you got to this point.
They say that all is fair in love and war. You’d never really taken that into consideration. That is, until Beej came along. Or better, since he came along and then obviously started harboring feelings towards you, and then did everything in his power to deny it, especially to himself. But you knew him… Oh, you knew him so well. Every sarcastic remark, every joke, everything he did to try and annoy or upset you was merely a demonstration of how much he really was falling for you. Truthfully, you’d started to feel the same towards him too, after noticing this. But stubbornly, you refused to make the first move. He was the one who was denying his feelings, therefore he was also the one who had to get a fucking grip and deal with the situation. You wanted to tell him how you felt, but you had to make sure he wanted you enough to get over his dumb pride and own up to what he was feeling. So of course, you’d decided to provoke him and had begun to go out with Mark. Mark, who was a pretty decent guy: he was a co-worker, he was cute, he’d been asking you out for a while, he was polite and charming…and of course, he was a complete bore. Especially when compared to Beej. But you’d been resilient in your mission: if shaking up Beetlejuice meant putting him in front of the harsh truth - which was, that if he didn’t get a move on, you certainly wouldn’t wait for him for ever - meant forcing yourself to go out on a few dates with Mark, you could handle it. After all, Mark wasn’t a bad guy: he always brought you flowers, came to pick you up and let you decide where to go and what to do. If he wasn’t so dreadfully vanilla, you may have actually found him interesting. But alas, you did not. It was all a charade, but you justified if by telling yourself that this was the only way to see if you could finally push Beej to do something. Anything. If he wanted you, he had to step his game up and do something about it. It was weird enough as it is: a human and a ghost hardly made for the perfect couple. But you’d consciously thrown the last piece of ‘normality’ out the window the moment Beej had entered your life, so what was the point in dwelling on how ‘normal’ this situation could be? To hell with normal. You were seeking other things. Excitement. Thrills. Passion. Happiness. Nobody said the only way to find these things was to deal with them ‘normally.’
You wash your face and force yourself out of your thoughts once again. You slip on your nightgown and wrap your silk robe around yourself. You look in the mirror and wonder if you’d overdone it. Beej was an idiot for disregarding his feelings, but that didn’t mean you had to be such a bitch to him. Besides, what if your dumb plan backfired and you ended up losing him for good? He may be acting stupid, but you certainly weren’t acting any better. You sigh and close your eyes, hiding your face behind your hands. Your temples are pulsing and you were feeling dizzy. The alcohol’s probably starting to really take its toll on you. The best thing to do is just to get into bed and fall asleep, but you know you have to face him before you could do that. And sure enough, when you open the bathroom door you find him sitting on your bed, shoulders slouched forward and arms resting on his thighs. His head is hanging low, as if he’s lost in thought. Strangely, you noticed that the red is almost all gone from his hair now, and his locks have turned back to his normal emerald green. He must’ve calmed himself, you think. When he hears the bathroom door open he looks up. For a few seconds you both stare at each other in silence. Then, he sighs deeply, shaking his head.
“You’re a drunk mess, babes,” he says defeatedly, “You should just go to sleep and get this over with… I’ll leave you to rest, I’m clearly not needed here.” He starts getting up but you stop him in his tracks.
Puzzled, he cocks his head to the side, “What now?”
“Wait!” you repeat, stepping forward with your hand outstretched and stumbling towards him. God, you’re completely drunk. You keep repeating this fact over and over to yourself, but damn, it’s true. He raises an eyebrow, watching you intently as you fumble your way to the bed and sit down besides him. You take a few moments to recompose yourself, trying to straighten yourself up and pretend as though your head isn’t exploding and your vision isn’t going blurry.
“What, did you change your mind and need me to tuck you into bed?” He asks sarcastically, seeing right through your act.
“N-o,” you reply, shooting him an upset glare, “I just…wanted to talk.”
“Uh, that’s what I’ve been trying to do since you got your drunk ass home,” he points out, turning his body towards you, “You didn’t really look like you were interested….”
“Noooo,” you slur, swapping at his hand and shaking your head, “That’s because you were being so…so…so angry and moody and annoying!”
“Oh, well, that’s a good way to start a conversation…”
“Come ooon, Beej! You know what I mean…”
“Yeah, and in the morning I doubt you’ll know what anything you say now means, so…”
“Hey, knock it off! I’m not that drunk, you know,” you say defensively, frowning at him. He closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head, but at least it looks like he’s willing to stay…for now.
“I know you don’t like the idea of me going out with Mark,” you start, and you immediately shush him when you see him open his mouth to reply, “But it’s not really like that, you know? I mean… he’s a nice guy, he really is. And all he wants to do is take me out to these fancy restaurants and spend some time together…at least that’s what he says, I’m not entirely sure it’s all that,” you’re rambling freely right now, but you can’t help yourself, the words just keep rolling out of your mouth. Beetlejuice observes you quietly, his eyes scrutinizing your face and the way you move your hands while you continue, “I know you think he’s a loser and you’re probably right, but you know, there’s nothing wrong with just hanging out with people a little bit, you know, just to try it, but like I’m not even sure….I mean,” you take a deep breath and, before you can help yourself, you tilt your head and lean it on Beej’s shoulder. You feel him tense up for a moment. You realize you’re basically leaning your entire side against him. But at this point, you’re too drunk to do anything about it. Or to care, really. Throw caution to the wind, you think. Who gives a flying fuck? You shake your head and persist, “I mean…he’s not like you,” you slur, trying to steady your head from bobbing forward, “Definitely not like you, I mean,” you turn your head, “I bet if it were you, you know, doing all this shit and everything…I bet that you would take very, very good care of me, hm?” You look up and see him gazing right back at you, a strange look in his eyes. Your breath becomes unsteady. His expression is filled with meaning. You suddenly feel very, very warm. You feel your cheeks begin to flush, the heat radiating through your body. You are hyperaware of how close your faces are. But instead of feeling intimidated, you gather up the courage to continue, “You would…Wouldn’t you?”
For a moment, he stands perfectly still. Then, as if in slow motion, you see him leaning towards you. You instinctively start to close your eyes, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not quite, at least. Instead, your feel his breath on your face - isn’t it weird how his breath can be so warm, when he isn’t even fully alive? - as he tentatively hovers above your lips for a moment. His green eyes examine your face. He gently nudges your nose with his, and you raise your head slightly. You feel his lips graze your cheeks and smile slightly. He plants a small, tentative kiss on your jaw…then another on the corner of your mouth…you part your lips expectantly. This sudden physical contact is making your head spin even more, and is sending the most delightful shivers running down your neck and arms. His mouth hovers above yours, and as you barely feel his lips graze yours you close your eyes in anticipation, when…
“Forget it,” he murmurs, pulling back. With a sigh, he clears his throat and stands up. “Sorry about that, babes…I should be going, you need some sleep.”
You stare at him, mouth gaping open. Was he being serious right now?
“What the fuck do you mean?” You ask, unable to keep your voice from quivering slightly. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe he’s being such a coward…and now? Like this?
“Listen, babes, I get it,” he raises his hands defensively, “I’m an idiot, okay? Let’s pretend this whole conversation never happened, you’re better off just worrying about that Mark fellow…”
“What are you talking about?!” You can hear your voice rising as you get up, fists on your side. Now he’s really getting on your nerves. “What does Mark have to do with this now?!?!”
“Look, babes, I know the truth, okay?” He shakes his head, “I know that he’s….” He frowns, looking away as he struggles to find the words. You notice two streaks of dark blue hair peek out beneath his green locks. “He’s tall, dark, handsome…shit, he looks like he belongs in a fucking Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue! And… well, fucking hell, look at me!” He lifts his shoulders and drops his arms in defeat by his side, before adding in a dark murmur, “Besides…that bastard’s….alive.”
Your mouth is hanging open. You can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. Especially after the moment you just shared. Especially after what you had just told him! How stupid can this demon be?! And finally, you decide: enough it enough. You stride up to him with confidence, and he looks at you with a puzzled expression.
“And that bastard’s not you, you dumb, moronic demon!”
You cut him off by grabbing his tie and pulling him to you, crashing your mouth to his. He’s taken aback, but only for a second, before he grabs your waist and starts kissing you back ardently. You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling you towards him. He responds by tugging at your sides, pulling you with equal fervor against his body. You deepen the kiss, and as you stumble back your legs hit the bed, sending you both toppling backwards on the soft mattress. He doesn’t stop kissing you. On the contrary, as soon as your back hits the bed he pins you down. You feel him drag one hand along your side and tucking the other one beneath your buttocks, hoisting you forward and grinding himself against you. You gasp, instinctively spreading your legs and letting him settle between them. He breaks the kiss, but only for a second, before attacking your neck with little bites and nibbles. You arc your back, burying your hands in his hair, urging him on as he keeps kissing and licking your sensitive skin. You can’t find the words to describe what you’re feeling. Your head is spinning in the clouds. Your blood is churning in your veins. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, spreading across your chest and between your legs…it’s almost unbearable…and it’s delightful. When you feel his hand start grazing your breast, you moan loudly.
“Did…you…ever…” you hear him mumble between kisses, “…with him?”
“No…never…” you answer breathlessly.
He stops, and raises himself on his forearms to look at you, hovering above your face.
“Why?” He asks with a slight frown.
At this point, you figure there’s no point in trying to come up with other dumb lies.
“Because,” you confess, your breath still shallow, “Whenever he started to kiss me…I’d start seeing your face.”
You can tell by his stunned expression how much your answer strikes him. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do. You wonder if you were wrong to be so direct. But then, you see him grin at you, shaking his head in disbelief as he mentally puts the pieces together.
“You…you are one crazy bitch,” he laughs softly, “You know that?”
“And you,” you reply promptly, gently cupping his face with your hands, “Are the most oblivious, stubborn, idiot ghost I’ve ever met.” His smile widens, and you stroke your thumb against his cheek.
“Come here, you…” you say softly, pulling him down to you and kissing him once again.
You close your eyes, reveling in his touch. He kisses you slowly, deeply, tasting you. He grazes his tongue against yours, exploring your mouth. You gently bite down on his lips, suckling on them as he hums appreciatively. You feel his grip on you tighten, and his hands start to roam across your body. You let your hands glide down his back, before bringing them to his chest, blindly feeling for the buttons of his shirt and popping them open one after the other. He inches his way down your thighs, caressing them and making you shiver, before grasping the hem of your nightgown and lifting it upward, gliding his hands beneath the fabric. You gasp loudly when you feel his cold hands touch your bare skin. He silences you with another lustful kiss. You finish unbuttoning his shirt and impatiently tug at it, until he pulls back and manages to slip it off and toss it aside, momentarily breaking the kiss. You exchange a quick glance, and you silently give him permission to pull your nightshirt over your head as well, leaving you bare in front of him except for a pair of lacy panties. He breathes heavily, his eyes roaming wildly across your body, drinking you in. You start feeling self conscious, your chest rising and falling with each breath, and you search for his mouth again, hungrily pulling him to you. You’re not sure how this happened, but suddenly you’re aware that he’s gotten rid of his pants as well and is now only wearing striped boxers. You revel in the kiss, tugging and pulling at him, wanting to feel more of him, needing to have him as close as possible.
“I’m sorry,” he then whispers against your lips, eyes still closed, “I lost my fucking mind when you came back and I knew you were with him…”
“Stop talking about him,” you answer breathlessly, “He’s nothing…he never was nothing…this is all I care about…You are all I cared about…”
This confession seems to fuel him even more, and he kisses you again, devouring your mouth.
“Say it, babes…” he moans, “Please…”
His hands swipe across your abdomen, caressing your stomach and your thighs, making your body shiver with pleasure.
“W-what?” You barely manage to answer as he goes back to biting your neck, nipping at every sensitive spot of your skin.
“Tell me you’re mine…” he whispers in your ear, before biting down on a particularly sensible spot and sucking on your skin. He roughly grinds his hips into yours, sending a shock of pleasure through your entire body. You moan loudly, your eyes rolling back in your head as your push yourself against him, spreading your legs even more. You clutch onto his shoulders, your nails raking his back, and you hear him moan in appreciation.
“I’m yours….” You gasp out. Encouraged by your words, he slips his hands beneath you and grabs your buttocks, grinding into you again. Your moans echo in the room. He’s already driving you insane, and you are loving every second of it.
“I’m yours, Beetlejuice…” you whimper, biting down on his shoulder as he keeps bucking his hips against yours. He hisses when he feels your teeth on his skin, urging you to do it again.
“Yes, baby…” he moans, pulling his head back, “Tell me you want to be mine…”
You’ve lost all rational thought by now, but when you feel his hands reach for your thong, you gasp and he stops for a moment. You look at him: he’s staring at you with an uncertain expression in his eyes. He’s panting, but he doesn’t move.
“Babes…” he whispers, “If you’re not sure…Please…”
For a moment, you just stare at him. You can feel your heart pounding inside your chest. And truly, looking at the flustered - and now pink haired - demon in front of you, you realize you’ve never wanted anything so much in your whole life. Slowly, you gather up your courage and grasp the border of your thong, lifting your hips to take it off. Then, you lean forward, reaching out and gently taking hold of his boxers, pulling them down as well. He kicks them out of the way and stares at you, transfixed. There’s a moment of silence, filled with unspoken words that race between the two of you. Then you place your hands on his hips, pulling yourself up against him. You look right into his eyes, not wanting to break this contact.
“Make me yours,” you whisper.
He closes the space between you, kissing you softly as you fall back down on the pillows. You close your eyes and allow yourself to be enveloped in a haze of pleasure and warmth, anticipating what’s to come.
