Chapter Text
The first time you summoned the half-mad poltergeist, it had been completely accidental. Desperate to die, but unwilling to take that final, fatal step yourself, you threw yourself into demonology. Dead end after dead end after dead end, you searched for something that could do more than kill you. You wanted to be destroyed. Obliterated.
You found him by accident, a sheaf of dirty advertisements falling out of the back of the latest dusty tome you’d brought home from a spooky little used bookstore. Advertisements promising the world's leading bio-exorcist-- strange way to call yourself a murderer, but you're not gonna question a demon's aesthetics, whatever floats their boat-- and the blocky print of a name in triplicate.
Betelgeuse.
You didn't think it would work. Nothing else had, and the rituals you'd tried so far had been far more intricate, calling for incense and different types of blood and runes painted to exact specifications. This summoning, if it could be called that, was more of the kind you dare your girlfriends to try at a sleepover, stomachs fluttering and nervous giggles breaking through as you whisper 'Candyman, Candyman' or 'Bloody Mary' into a mirror you can barely see in your friend’s dark bathroom. What was that? Just a shadow out of the corner of your eye. Nothing ever happened. It wasn’t real.
You felt silly, clutching the mold-smelling, stained sheet of tacky newsprint. Swallowed past your nerves and, hell, let's go all the way, you did it in the dark of your bedroom, standing in front of your vanity, a dozen small white candles lit and covering the wooden surface. For aesthetic, you know? Even though this summoning was pitifully simple, part of you hated the idea of doing nothing to mark the occasion.
"Betelgeuse." You stare at your reflection, shadows playing over your face from the flickering candles and making you look strange and haunted. Nothing happened. Of course it didn't. No clap of thunder, no otherworldly wind to lift your hair. Nothing. This was a total bust. You were wasting your time. Why couldn’t you just cut your wrists like everyone else?
Disappointed, you decided to finish the stupid ritual anyway, and go to bed. Maybe you’d have some nightmares to make up for this latest letdown.
"Betelgeuse."
Did you imagine the hush, the air of quiet expectation in your already silent bedroom? You had to have imagined it.
"Betelgeuse."
Nothing.
Of course nothing happened.
You were stupid for even considering this--
Hands materialized out of the dark behind you, wrapping around you, and you watched the dirty, pale digits with raggedy broken nails clamp over your mouth, the other arm wrapped around your middle. You were pulled into a surprisingly solid body, the swell of a soft gut pressing into your lower back.
"Well, hiya, sweet stuff." His voice rasped into your ear, bright with amusement. "Ain't this a nice surprise? Just when death was gettin' boring." You stared with wide eyes as the hand over your mouth moved down your throat, fingers lazily traced over your rapid pulse. "Not every day I get called outta nowhere by a breather." He mused.
All you could make out of him was wild hair, dirty white or blonde, and burning yellow eyes that gleamed ominously in the dark behind you, like some feral monster under your bed. Maybe a flash of filthy teeth-- fangs? no, couldn’t be-- and the overwhelming scent of earth and decay that permeated your room. Petrichor and tobacco and a hint of something else, spicy and unearthly. You took another breath, shuddering when that hand wrapped loosely around your throat again. His other hand was pressed to your sternum, so that it rose and fell with every breath you took.
"So, what can ol' BJ do for you, sweets?"
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, you couldn't remember why you called him, and gods, were you gonna die because you really didn't think this through? You'd wanted it just minutes ago, hell, part of you still wanted it, under the wash of terror that had managed to break through the numb encasement of apathy that surrounded your heart. You still wanted to die. But… some part of you, the tiny spark of curiosity that lead you to hunting for demons to summon in the first place, that part of you that you'd thought was lost to the frozen wasteland that was your apathetic existence, that part is exhilarated. It wanted to know what was going to happen next. Maybe death could wait.
"Well? I ain't got all day." He growled, impatient with your dithering, and the grip on your throat tightened enough to make your heart skip another beat. Disarmingly, he laughed in your ear, a harsh sound not dissimilar to what you imagined gravel in a garbage disposal would sound like. "Hell, who am I kiddin'? I've got all day and all night, if you want, if you know what I mean." The demon cackled at his own wit.
For a moment, you didn't know what he meant. But then it hit you, helped along by the hand that wandered down your chest, cupped your tit and squeezed in a very unmistakable manner. Heat flooded your face at the implication, and you swallowed.
"Oh, yeah, baby. Is that what you want? You call ol' Beetle here for a booty call?" His interest obviously piqued, even more obvious against your backside as he ground his pelvis into your ass. "Nice." He hissed, delighted and horny and appalling. Your mouth was dry, and you swallowed painfully.
"N-no, I…" You stumbled, voice breaking off into a squeak when one of his hands cupped your crotch, pulling your hips back so that he could grind more effectively against you. It was not an unpleasant sensation, the broad palm between your legs, the heel of that hand pressed against your clit in a way that made you reconsider denying him. "I…" How fucking pathetic would he think you were if you told him you'd summoned him because you wanted to die?
He met your gaze in the mirror, and studied your eyes for less than a minute before realization dawned in that baleful yellow gaze. His wild eyebrows flew upward before lowering again into a furrow.
"Huh." He pursed his lips. "I could. But where's the fun in that? How's bout I make you a deal, babes?" He grinned, those horrifying teeth snapping shut inches from your earlobe. You flinched. "Let's do this my way for a while. And if you still wanna die, well. You just say the word, and I'll make it quick. How's that sound?" He moved his hand as he spoke, ground the heel of his palm against you in a way that made it hard to think clearly.
You swallowed again, shifting your legs, though uncertain whether you intended to push him away or bring him closer.
And then you nodded.
"Good girl." Surprisingly, he let you go. You felt a flash of disappointment, but it didn't last long enough for you to really analyze the inappropriate feeling because with the snap of his fingers, you found yourself thrown onto your back on your bed. He gave you no time to recover from that before he fell on you, his mouth working against your crotch. You were fairly certain you hadn't been naked a second ago, but that ceased to matter when his tongue found your clit.
Your head fell back against the mattress, your fingers clenched in the sheets, and your lips parted on a silent cry. His nails dug into the softness of your thighs, moved to your ass as he pressed your pelvis up into his greedily delving mouth. He sucked and lapped at your cunt like a dog, swirled his tongue around your clit and fuck if you didn’t come apart and he’d barely touched you. Had you somehow accidentally summoned some kind of incubus?
Immediately, you dismissed that possibility. Incubi were supposed to be sexy, alluring– and you were fairly certain that your tastes, whatever they were at any given moment, did not run towards foul-mouthed (literally) moldering (again, literally) demons with a nicotine habit. Although that might have been rapidly changing, you thought blearily, as his dark chuckle curled through your abdomen and made your scalp prickle.
“Yeah, that’s right, baby. You just keep comin’ for me. You’re gonna break in a thousand different ways before I’m done with you. S’more than one way to die, sweet cheeks.” Betelgeuse rasped against your cunt, stubble scratching your sensitive skin with every movement of his jaw. You gasped for breath, shuddered under the onslaught as he flicked his tongue against your clit and then slid one of his fingers into you. You spared a moment’s thought of horror for the ragged, unclean cut of his nails, and then you couldn’t think of anything as he crooked his finger in an expert way and you bucked against his mouth with an inarticulate cry.
“Yeah, yeah, there ya go, good girl, s’a good little breather.” He murmured, his tone delighted as he worked you up before you’d even had a chance to come down. He had you coming apart again, a whine tearing from your throat as you twisted under him, coming so hard it hurt, your clit throbbing and your muscles clenching around his fingers.
“Be–”
“Ah-ah-AH!” He was gone from between your legs. He reappeared straddling your chest, his hand clamped over your mouth. He wagged a finger in your face, leaning close to you with a black scowl.
“You don’t say the B-word, babes. You do, our deal is void. Got it? You get jack shit, and I get real pissed. Capiche? Comprendo? Got it?”
It was hard to breathe with his weight on your chest, but you managed to nod. Okay. Don’t say his name. Got it.
Betelgeuse smiled, and took his hand off your mouth to pat your cheek lazily. It was then you realized that he’d used the hand he’d had buried in your pussy, and now your face was sticky with your arousal.
“Knew you were a smart one.” He praised with a final pat. He considered you for a moment, and then he cupped both sides of your face and folded himself over to kiss you. He tasted like cigarettes, the cheap kind that were mostly acrid tar and carcinogen, damp earth, and you. It wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant either, and outside of the taste… His mouth was as skilled here as it was down there.
You found yourself moaning into his kiss, and your hands finally did something other than try to rip holes into your sheets as you buried him into his wild blonde hair. He unfolded himself down your body, settled between your splayed thighs and rutted into you lazily as he tongue-fucked your mouth. He coiled his tongue around yours, nipped at you until you mewled, and pulled your hair until tears blurred your vision. It was all so overwhelming. It was all so good.
Every grind of his hips dragged against the length of your slit, the rough fabric of his striped trousers painfully stimulating. You looped your legs around his and began to tilt your pelvis into each thrust, every other thrust punctuated by a deep shudder and a whimpering sound muffled by his mouth. There were tears not quite spilling down your temples, and a burning that spread from your core to every finger and toe. Your whole body ached with it.
Betelgeuse broke away from the kiss long after your lungs started burning, and regarded you almost thoughtfully as you laid gasping beneath him. You had to look terrible, you knew, with your face flushed and lips swollen and your eyes wet.
"You're actually fuckin' hot, y'know?" He mused, like it was a throw-away comment. Then, he hooked your knees with his elbows and threw your calves over his shoulders. He patted your thigh with one hand as he unbuttoned his fly with the other in quick practiced movements. He soon freed his cock, but you couldn't see it.
You could definitely feel it. His cock was startlingly cold, like a glass dildo if you didn't bother to warm it up. He grasped himself in one hand and slid the blunt head of him up your slit, parting your lips just enough that your slick spread over his skin. He rubbed his cockhead against your clit twice, and then he thrust into you. He wasted no time dicking around, bottoming out hard enough you felt his balls slap your ass. It forced the air from your lungs in an ugly grunt, and he smiled sharply, a smile full of razor-sharpness, a shark's smile.
He pulled back slowly, until just the head of his cock was left inside you, and snapped his hips forward again. He set a brutal pace, each thrust driving the sharp points of his hips into your flesh and the breath from your body. You were nearly folded in half and your muscles burned from the stretch. You couldn't fully inhale, and then he was crushing you further as he bent to kiss you, pressing your knees nearly to your shoulders. You felt like you were suffocating, smothered in dirt and wet ashtray. It burned like nothing you'd felt before, and your heart beat frantically.
He dragged his hands through your hair, pulling whenever his nails snagged on a tangle. He was nowhere near gentle as his hands moved down your throat and then your shoulders. His ragged nails left red welts in their wake, your skin stinging from the abuse. And the whole while, he kept up his brutal fucking, driving his cock into you hard enough to make you inch slowly up the mattress. You felt battered, like you were breaking into pieces, just as he had promised. Gasping and falling apart under this demonic onslaught, until you cried out pathetically with every thrust.
Betelgeuse came with no warning and a muffled groan. His nails bit into your skin, leaving red marks and blood in a few places. His come was cool inside you, a shock to your stimulation-heated insides, especially since as you'd fucked, his cock had leached warmth from your body until he was close to your temperature. Like a glass dildo, you couldn’t help but think again. He was warmer everywhere, you realized muzzily through the stupor of your afterglow. Everywhere he had pressed against you was warmer.
You let your hands fall to either side of your head as you pant under him. He finally pulled out of you, and he used your panties to wipe himself clean, dropping them carelessly. He tucked his soft penis back into his pants, and then gave you a smug look.
"Satisfied, babes?"
You could only groan, and he tittered.
"Good." He buffed his nails against his shirt, and looked you over again. "If you'll excuse me, then, I've got some uh, things to take care of. But don't worry. Daddy'll be back before you miss him." He patted your cheek again with that worrying reassurance, and then he simply disappeared.
Maybe you should have been more worried about what kind of unearthly hellion you'd released on the world, but you were too wiped out. Exhausted from your own depression and the insane turn of events since your unexpected success, you sink into an uneasy sleep, with black and white stripes imprinted behind your eyes, and the echo of an unhinged cackle in your ears.