#a date with death casper x reader
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
Hello!! Do you think you could do "a date with death" headcannons?? Like just general romantic headcannons!
GENERAL DATING HEADCANONS
Thank you so much for your request!! Apologies for the long wait :( I was quite busy recently.
I love him so much I might even do a part two if I can come up with more after I finish all of my requests...
I listened to the adwd soundtracks as I wrote this lol. Idk and idc if someone cares or not, but my Casper plush arrives soon and I'm sooo excited ^^!! Anyway, enjoy!!
┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
- He looks like someone who adores kisses but wouldn't initiate them at first, so you'd have to make the first move
- But don't worry, if you stop giving him kisses and tease him enough he'll be the one to initiate them
- He gets especially weak in the knees when you kiss him on the neck
- Do you guys know that meme "Ah, yes. My girlfriend and her 500 dollar four foot tall mareep."? That's Casper with his Azrael plush and I will die on that hill
- He will laugh at you if you get jealous of his plush
- How can you be jealous of a plushy...? Mortals sure are weird...
- In the beginning stages of your relationship, he would be very shy and uncertain when it comes to initiating physical touch, but when you initiate it? He would never say no
- He loves to tease you but will explode when you tease him back
- No matter how often he denies it, it's obvious that he loves your teasing and adores the little back and forth you guys have
- You don't know how makeup works? Don't worry, because your personal makeup assistant is here!
- He would LOVE to do your makeup whenever you please, may it be every day or just on special occasions it doesn't matter to him. He also loves to have you this close to him and cups your cheek when he does your eyeliner
- Don't get me wrong, I bet he's a great cook, but I don't think he knows a lot of recipes and will make the same things over and over again
- If you want to eat something different, feel free to join him. I think cooking would be one of his favourite activities with you
- If you're a picky eater, he will make sure to only add the things you like
- His baking is shit though, no matter how precisely he follows the recipe, he somehow always fucks it up
- Even though he gets easily flustered, I think you two moved on quite fast in the relationship
- He would love to include you in his nightly routine
- Your skin's going to look glamorous!
- Even if you don't want to use his products for whatever reason, he'd still enjoy having you next to him doing your stuff as he gets ready for bed
- Even with Azrael in his arms, he still wouldn't be able to fall asleep without you. So when you get home late expect a grumpy reaper waiting for you on your bed
- He'll immediately forgive you when you give him cuddles
- I think one of his love languages is physical touch
- He isn't too keen on PDA, but he'll still hold your hand and give you small kisses in public
- In private he's a big cuddle bug though
- I think he would enjoy being the little spoon and big spoon, you can take your pick. He would also enjoy every cuddle position where he can hold your hand and look at your face
- One of his other love languages is definitely words of affirmation
- He enjoys receiving it as much as giving it
- I don't think that gift-giving is his love language, but he'll still give you gifts from time to time to surprise you
- Okay, I think I should stop talking about his love languages, but let me drop one more.
- I definitely think that one of his love languages is quality time
- Be it going outside for a walk or just staying at home cuddling while watching one of your silly series, he will always want to spend his time with you
- He seems like a morning person to me, but he also enjoys staying in bed with you cuddling
- He's a GREAT listener
- No matter the subject, he will always engage in it and ask questions about it
- He loves listening to you info dump
- He'll even check the things you like out so he can engage in the conversation more
- I like to think that he enjoys playing coop games with you... especially Cult of the Lamb :)
- He's quite tidy and keeps his things organised, but he still wouldn't want to clean after you
- So if you leave your dirty laundry on the floor, be prepared for a big lecture
- When it comes to arguments, I think his reaction depends on what kind of argument it is
- Are you arguing about something silly? He will act stubborn and be a little know-it-all, even if he knows he's in the wrong
- If it's a more serious argument he will raise his voice, but won't scream
- It'll take him a day to cool off, and it will be a bit hard for him to apologise first but he still manages
- He will feel a bit awkward at first when everything's sorted out
- Just tell him that everything's fine now and give him a little smooch and he will be back on track
- Tbh I don't think that he's a jealous type, he trusts you a lot
- He does get jealous though when you somehow manage to spend more time with someone other than him
- I think he would immediately seek you out and talk to you, embarrassingly admitting that he's jealous
- If you have any hobbies and/or a fan of certain things, be prepared to suddenly have tons of merch and/or stuff of it on your bed waiting for you
- He'd look at you with a smug smile waiting to be praised and praises he will receive
- If you have any trauma and are mentally ill, he will do his best to support your every need
- If you have sudden outbursts and want to be left alone, he wouldn't mind going to a different room and wait for you to calm down. He'll still feel bad for leaving you
- He needs a lot of reassurance when it comes to your mental health and what exactly you need him to do
- The same goes for when you're chronically ill
- He won't bother to look the information up, he knows that not every method applies to the same person and will just straight up ask you what you need
- When he's sad, all he wants is for you to hold him and tell him that everything's going to be alright
- If you're stressed due to work or an entirely different reason, be prepared to get spoiled by him. Of course, he would lecture first that you need to take better care of yourself, but he will immediately massage your head after
- He will tear up if you give him a gift and bake/buy him a cake on his birthday
- If you have a hobby that he can somehow participate in be ready to have a player two, because he will join you
- He likes it when you call him baby girl. Even when it confused him at first
- He loves it when you give him serious and silly pet names, he isn't picky
- He knows that marriage is a big thing for most mortals, so he would love to marry you. It doesn't matter if it's official or not
#a date with death casper x reader#adwd casper#adwd grim#a date with death x reader#adwd casper x reader#casper x reader#a date with death
628 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sunflowers [8394 | Grim | Casper]

Content: Fluff, POV Second Person, Spoilers
Pronouns: None
Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!
This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries

Sunflowers are supposed to follow the sun, this is a fact.
However, they were facing you now, despite the fact that there were sun rays directly hitting. You tilted your head at them, reaching a hand forward to brush across the petals.
You swore that the flower moved closer into your palm.
"I wonder if Casper's really right about my soul…"
Not only was your soul like a mirage, a bright light hidden by a misty smog, but it was also capable of healing others—
"By giving a bit of myself…" You sighed, pulling your hand from the flower.
How did you receive this, you assumed it was a blessing, since you weren't accidentally stealing other people's souls to live longer or something. So a blessing, but how and why? You've been like this since you were younger, so you're pretty sure you've had it since birth, but you're also pretty sure no one in your family could use magic. But you also did just recently find out that Grim Reapers were real and not just something out of fiction.
And then you began to think about what that really meant for you. Would you truly just…cease to exist one day? Yeah, your life mainly consisted of going to work and chilling at home (with the occasional side quest of doing something else), but that didn't mean that you were ready to give it all up.
Your gaze found the sunflowers again.
"Sunshine…"
You also weren't ready to give him up yet, either.
You've never felt such an intense pull toward someone in your entire life, and you've only known Casper for less than a week.
Hell, you didn't even know his name was Casper until last night!
But…loving him…feels right. You should love him openly and wholly, and you were sure he'd do the same.
Your love for each other really were like sunflowers.
You smiled as your fingers brushed the yellow petals. "I guess you accidentally choose something with a double meaning, huh, Casper?"

I TOLD Y'ALL THAT THE FAN WAS FICCING
AND HERE WE ARE
Ahem. Anyway.
I love him very much.
Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets#a date with death x reader#a date with death grim x reader#a date with death casper x reader#grim x reader#casper x reader#a date with death vn
676 notes
·
View notes
Text

so, i accidentally deleted a request from a dear anon. But! i remember that it was for Grim with an inexperienced reader having their first kiss! so I'll gladly write it for them. Sorry anon i hope you find this!
warnings: spoilers for Grim's name! terrible grammar and capitalization. possibly ooc grim
synopsis: Grim is more than happy to be your first kiss! you're his sunshine afterall
characters: Grimmy <3
a/n: sorry again anon, hope you like it!

when you tell him that you've never kissed anyone he will do extensive research.
because he's never kissed anyone either.
won't let you know that he's looking it up though.
so in the moment he kinda dissmisses it??
"you've never kissed anyone, Sunshine?" Casper asks, tilting his head at you. The two of you are in your room, sitting next to each other on the bed. The moon is high in the sky, making his white hair glow brighter than usual. (and he thinks you're the only radiant one 🙄) You've just explained your.. lack of experience to him, your face hot as you made your way through the confession. Casper nods his head gently. "that's not a problem... we can be affectionate in other ways" he suggests, casting his gaze to the closed window while scooting closer to you. pink dusting his cheeks. "though im surprised no ones gone after someone as..." he blushes harder "stunning as you."
after spending the next day on yihoo answers and watching a few videos (don't ask) Casper feels as though he's more than ready to be your first kiss!
when you come home from work, practically dragging yourself through the door. dropping your stuff on the floor and getting situated with little haste. Casper sits on your bed, blushing brightly and absentmindedly playing with your pet.
"had a good day, Grimmy?" you smile, joining him on your bed. already feeling better at the sight of his flustered face. "yes... [pet's name] and i have made a truce" he proclaims proudly, giving them an extra affectionate pat. (the two were fighting for your attention recently). You nod your approval and get cozy on the bed, blissfully unaware of Casper's internal panic as you cozy up to him for a nap.
This goes on for the rest of the day. By "this" i mean Casper being a little.. extra flustered by your affection. not that he minds! besides, you were gonna tease him all afternoon anyways.
now, it's well after dinner time and you're in bed waiting for Casper to be done with his skincare routine.* the headboard working together with a pillow to support your back as you skim your old diary. Giggling softly at a few of your entries. Because of this, Casper manages to 'sneak up' on you.
"hey... Sunshine," he says, walking into the room and getting under the covers next to you. "hi there pretty boy" you smirk, subtly hiding the book from him and placing it on the bedside table to give him your full attention. (that diary is full of teasing ammo you don't need him having) he blushes more than usual at the pet name, but rolls his eyes all the same.
"i did some.. research on kissing" he starts, playing with the hem of his pajama top. "
"oh? you researched it?" you ask, holding back a laugh. he looks at you with a slight pout.
"what? was my approach wrong again?" he huffs
"yes, and as always it's adorable." you smirk booping his nose. Capser pushes your finger away and flushes pink, looking at your plant and questioning everything that lead to this monent.
"well regardless, I did my research. and now i think i can give you a proper first kiss" he states, getting more embarrassed by the minute. reminding you of the flowers he'd gotten you and how adorable he was while handing them over.
"you really thought this through?" you ask, feeling your own face get hot as his words sunk in.
"yes, of course I did. I have a reputation as the best of the best y'know" he scoffs, getting his confidence back. "i had to make sure that my kissing skills would be unparalleled." you roll your eyes and bring your face down near his, grinning as his face gets redder by the seconds. "then lets see it. show me how well you-"
you're cut off by Casper gently sliding a hand against your cheek and gripping your neck softly. he's still blushing madly but there's a cockiness to it. "i will, when you stop talking." he says, kissing your cheek. you mumble out a response and play with the ends of his hair, waiting for him to finally kiss you.
after a few seconds (a few seconds too long in your opinion) he finally leans forward and brings your face to his.
the kiss is soft at first, almost hesitant. he's definitely a little scared of disappointing you. but due to that, it melts into something downright beautiful. his feelings for you surpass his fears and he kisses you with a passion that he seems to only save for petty banter between the two of you. it's amazing what you guys can accomplish when your mouths are being used for... other talents.
essentially, what im saying is that after the kiss, soul babies are most definitely back on the table. (much to Grim's dismay.)

-button 🌺
* if you also have a skincare routine, then you just finished yours earlier. and if you don't, then you were just waiting for him to finish up!
#a date with death#casper x reader#a date with death casper#a date with death casper x reader#do these tags even exist?#they do now
365 notes
·
View notes
Text
Something with ending 6 : bloom, in the dlc... Might have a thing in my mind... So well, take this fanfict from me.
Disclaimer! This IS a spoiler under the cut for everyone who don't and not yet go through the dlc or even the game!
Okay, imagine its a random friday night where you go for monthly groceries with casper (ofc, your legally married with bbg who can finally be with you for the rest of his life.)
And after done with the long line of cashier (which got you into a long ramble from Casper of WHAT he would do if he still a reaper that could made both of you get this thing fast while waiting in line.) , you noticed something when you try to reach driver seat and look for a key. ( Collectively asume that Casper CAN'T drive.)
A highschool girl, on the middle of chatting with an... OWL?! RIGHT ON THE STREET LAMP AND WAY OUT FROM THE PARKING?!
You quickly get down and hide behind your car. You felt your heart suddenly race and a sheer of panic came out of nowhere.
Good thing is, Casper still busy with the groceries on the back and doesn't notices your act. Gave you a time to processing the thing you saw before without need to explain.
' Why is there a frickin owl talking to her?! Is she a trainer or animal lover try to go for a free taming?! '
You slowly raised your head to get more look, and the girl still talking with an owl which sat on the nearby trashcans.
She looked happy and sometimes giggles when talking to that owl. Which brought you a familiar feelings. Good thing you can read through lips so now you can pirate they're whole conversation.
You tried to mimic the movement from the girl's lips with your own.
" Its... Nice to know that a grim reaper was actually had a date minutes ago with me... I am happy you want to grant my silly wish... He... he... "
" What are you doing sun- "
In the middle of your reading, Casper suddenly joined beside you and you quickly grabbed his mouth to shut him up.
" Shh... I will tell you after they're done... "
Casper, basically froze in place, just nod and take it like a good- ekhem while looking at you with a confused face. He then took a place beside you and wait for you till you're done. Upon his curiosity, he ended up joined your crime and tried to take peek behind your head.
There he saw the girl and the owl... Literally chatting like a normal person beneath the street lamp and not far from the parking exit.
" ... Ha, ha, ha, who would've even thought that a hot guy like you, assigned to take my soul, fell in love with me and agree with my invitation? "
" Wait wha- "
Before the girl and the owl could hear him, you shut his mouth automatically with your arm and kept your focus to them.
His muffled sound fell deaf on your ears. Even with his fight back, you still focused on the task.
" I love you but please... Shut up. "
You said try to get as quiet as possible.
His scarlet eyes looked into you with a sassy look for a sec and immediately come back to the peeking contest with you.
" Its, getting, darker. We, should, continue, this, in, room, chat... "
And then the owl turned into a 5'7 feet men with a cloak hide his identity. Soon after, both of them go for a walk and leave the parking lot.
After make sure they're both disappear in the dark, you sigh in relief.
" Damn, i thought you're the only one who pull up the room chat tactic! "
" W-what? Of course, I'm the only one who pull up with that brilliant, magnificent looking idea! He probably heard it from his colleagues about my rumors or something and decided to try it for more easy harvesting? I don't know. "
You looked at him with a wide grin and giggles while he trying to maintain his pride and ego. Basically you heard nothing but only " Bla, bla, bla " In your ears.
" My, my... Well, since you saw it too... Do you know the reaper who assigned to her? I bet, you would have already know your fellow grim reaper by only looking at their animal ' Persona form '. "
" Yeah. I know him. "
You smiled widely and looked at him with a curious eyes.
" Oh, yeah?! Tell me! "
" Well, he's created on the same day as mine. Reaper 8324... Jeremy. "
What?
Jeremy?
" SO THAT SHIT IS REAL?! THAT'S WHY YOU'RE SO MAD WHEN I BROUGHT THAT NAME IN OUR CHAT?! "
" Well... it is!... Sadly. Buuut, he's ugly! He's nothing near my charm and good looking face! He's actually suck at harvesting because, why does he took a frickin months to harvest a damn someone's grandfather soul?! Pfft. Newbie, noob. You should be proud that you got me and in fact, we're married, mor- ekhem, sunshine. "
He crossed his arm while pulled that look (wide grin, a wink, and that pretty face he know you would always lose because of. ) when he tried to win your heart and your forgiveness after blown up your kitchen for a hundred time of the day.
" Hahaha! Kay, then, show off boy... Well, i do hope they get a happy ending too. Because... Like you said, not every reaper is lucky enough and most of them terminated before find a way. "
Casper watched your expression fell and he automatically pulled you for a hug and planted a kiss on your head.
" Well, sunshine. You know that we caught up this far because your case is a rare one? You gave me the light from your soul, thus made me became a human and your name on the death list, gone after that. I doubt they could do the same but... Erm, i-... "
" Whaaaaat is it, caspy? "
He throw his face on the other side. He is red as hell, flustered and can't deny that he wanted them to be happy too.
" I-... I wish, a good.. Luck for them? Bleh. Let's forget it. C'mon! It's getting darker. "
His flustered face never bore you a slightest. Casper still that funny guy you met accidentally because he hacked into your computer.
Look back to the past, its still unbelievable that the both you made it. He became a human, get married with you and just doing the taxes and groceries together.
Back then, you dont even care if you ended up alone till the end of your life. But now... You always wish if you were reborn in the next life, you hope that Casper will always become your husband, to spend your life with him and him only.
Its crazy that you can't predict a future without him now.
" Sunshine? What are you doing? "
" A-ah? Nothing! Just a wind. "
You hope that the couple you saw, can taste the same happy ending like the both of you. To spend the rest of your life together, till wrinkles grow in both of your face, till another reaper finally assigned to take your soul this time.
" Anyway! Does she bring up a soulbaby type of topic...? "
" I swear we talked about this before and you swore to me for not bringing that soulbaby thing again! "
" Oh? Then... If i change it to a baby topic now~ "
" I said stop! "
" We're a married couple now and its normal for that! You can't always fight back the neighborhood question about when we're gonna have a child! "
(I'm sorry if it's suck. I'm not used to write on english...)
I LOVE HIM SO MUCH OH MY GOD, I START MY WRITTING IN HER FOR HIM BECAUSE HIS FANFICT ITS NOT A LOT FOR MEEEH!
#a date with death#a date with death x reader#a date with death casper x reader#casper x reader#the way that i would let this men-#GAKDJWJDJWKDWBJDA
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
soul baby - grim reaper x reader (Spoiler Warning For Grim's Name)
Grim reapers don't have time to reproduce and fall in love. There's no time in the underworld for that. They claim a soul every couple of minutes, and they get some time to recover during the time that their souls are unbalanced.
Though, as much as he finds you to be infuriatingly flirtatious and messing with his head, you weren't wrong when you told him that you'd make a soul baby with him.
Maybe that's how you first got into his head.
And when sound of your skin and his echoes through your apartment, your nails clawing down his back desperately, Casper wonders for a moment, just a moment, if you were really just some mortal, or if death itself came up and decided that he was too lonely. He doesn't mind the way your nails draw blood on his back, and he leans in further, pressing your legs against your chest as he thrusts into you again.
"Ca—" You gasp. "Casper."
"Yes, sunshine?"
You moan as you feel him force himself further inside of you.
"'s too much."
"What happened to the flirty little thing in the chatroom?" He tilts his head teasingly, lips pulled into a smile. "You're so bold when there's a screen."
"Ah," Your back arches as your chest presses to his, lips quivering as you whimper.
"Speechless?" He speeds up, using his body weight to press you down. "Thought you wanted a soul baby. You want me to put one in you? Hm?"
You nod your head feverishly, eyes blowing wide as you cling onto his shoulders.
"Alright. Don't waste anything, sunshine."
You moan as he cums in you, legs shaking as you feel his warmth flood inside of you, and you gasp, eyes teary. You cling onto him while shaking, only relaxing when you feel him collapse on top of you, cock plugging you full and keeping his cum inside of you. You catch your breath as he nuzzles his nose into your jaw, pressing a gentle kiss there.
"Was I good?"
"You were great, casp."
#you've fucked him time for him to fuck you#OH MY GODFDD HE JKSDGHSDLGKDS HES SO FINEEE WHAHHHHHHH#grim reaper x reader#casper x reader#a date with death x reader#☾.nsfw#I NEED TO FUCK HIM. HE NEEDS TO FUCK ME. IM SO HAPPY THIS GAME EXISTS#im on what day 5?? need him to fold me in half rn actually#nah fuck the queue I want this man NOW#a date with death#reader insert#IM GOING TO FUCK THI SMAN SILLY.
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Casper The Cum Dump
Sub/Bottom Casper x Top/Dom Male Reader
Prompt - Cum Dump
Warnings - Rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, pet names, anal sex

You rammed your dick in and out of Casper.
The boy in question was bouncing on your lap with his arms around your neck. He was moaning with every thrust of your hips. Skin around his ass red and warm.
Sweat dripped from Casper’s forehead as he tried to keep himself together. You just had been at this for hours. Ever since you got home from work.
It had apparently been a bad day so Casper asked what he could do to help you. Now he was being fucked brainless. Not that he minded. The feeling of your dick stretching his ass felt amazing.
Casper didn’t even know how sex would feel, he’s never been in love, much less had sex. But this was amazing. “Nggnee~”, Casper moaned as you held him down.
Your hands gripped his waist tighter. The skin under your hand's turning from cold to warm. “You feel amazing love”, you said. Voice ghosting Casper’s ear. Casper whined, moving his hips slightly. "M-more~", Casper moaned.
“Start moving again, nine Hells”, Casper whispered. You smirked, “what, do you want me to fuck you”, you asked. You didn’t wait for an answer before you started to fuck Casper again
Casper moaned and held your neck tighter. You felt Casper’s tighten around you, causing you to groan. “Gonna cum”, you groaned. Casper’s eyes widened.
You guys have only had sex a few times till now. And every time you pull out. But something told Casper to keep you, he wanted, needed you to cum in him.
Casper clenched around more, “hhggnne haha, in-inside~”, Casper moaned. Your eyes widened, “really?” You asked, slowing down. “Nine Hells, yes”, Casper said, bouncing up and down on your dick.
You smiled and started to fuck Casper faster and harder then before. “Yehh yess~, huggnen~ yehhess~”, Casper moaned. You groaned as your orgasm got closer, burying your head in Casper’s shoulder.
You slammed Casper down, cumming in him as you left a hickey on his shoulder. Casper stopped thinking for a while. All he could think about was the feeling of your cum in him.
It felt amazing.
Casper loved the feeling. Casper let out a loud moan as he came. Cumming from the feeling alone, cum spurting from his dick onto your chest.
Casper slummed towards you, head hitting your shoulder. “Mmmmnn”, Casper whined. You smiled, “like the feeling of my cum in you pretty boy”, you teased.
Making Caspe’s face go red, but he didn’t deny it. Casper just kept his mouth shut. You smiled, knowing that you were right. “My little cum dump”, you said, confusing Casper.
“Your what”, Casper slurred. Voice rough from moaning so loud. “You love the feeling of cum in you, my cum. So you're my cum dump. My little cum dump”, you explained. Casper moaned again and lowered his head back down.
You’re cum dump?
Casper liked that.
#lgbtq#top male reader#male reader imagines#male reader#dom male reader#sub character#bottom character#a date with death#two and a half studios#a date with death casper#a date with death grim#a date with death x reader#a date with death x male reader#adwd#adwd casper#adwd grim#casper x mc#casper x reader#casper x male reader#sub casper#bottom casper
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Bath
↳ A Patient Casper x MC who struggles with accepting good things
"Stop squirming," Casper huffs, tugging at your hair. Its not firm enough to hurt, but it's firm enough to send a message. "You're making this very difficult."
"Agh! I'm not being difficult on purpose," you swiftly reply, turning your head back to look at him.
Droplets fly away from your damp hair, and you swear you weren't aiming for them to drop on his face!
You simply can't help yourself from chuckling as he grimaces, however.
"Sorry, sorry." You're not sorry at all, actually. Judging by the way he looks at you, a brow raised as he does his signature frown, you can tell that he knows. "It's just -- I can do this myself, y'know!"
"I know." He hums, softly guiding your head forward with his fingers pressed against your temple. "I'm not stupid."
Casper starts to take your shampoo, murmuring something about how there's too much silicon on it, or whatever, as he pours it on his hand.
"You really don't have to do this."
"I know. You keep doing that -- stating things that are obvious to me. It's very annoying." You'd probably be more offended if this happened in a different time, but honestly, you're just trying to focus on anything but the way Casper rubs at your scalp.
How does he make it feel so good?
Distantly, you wonder if you could make him do this for you everyday. Mornings would be a little less horrible, and you wouldn't come into work with a frown on your face like usual.
But no, you couldn't ask him of that. It'd be too much work, really.
He probably wouldn't want to, anyways.
"You're quiet," his voice is always nice to hear, but you can't help but tense up once he calls you out. "Nothing good comes out from you being quiet."
"Hey."
"I'm not wrong," he chuckles, voice turning a little softer as his hands continue to work. "You're thinking -- thinking so hard that it's honestly concerning. What's on your mind, sunshine?"
"Why should I tell you?" You sigh, sinking in deeper. The water rises to your chest. It's warm.
"Your thoughts are often too heavy to carry on your own," he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, and you swear you stop breathing for a second. "Let me carry some of the load."
"Uh.."
"Please?" Another kiss, and this time, it's against the back of your neck."Don't make me beg."
Hm.
Well, that's a thought for later.
But, you're not gonna keep him waiting. It takes you a few seconds to even think about the first word you wanna say, but you manage.
"I was just thinking about how nice this was. Showering is, like, the worst part of my mornings." You tilt your head against the tub, and you see him looking at you intently. For someone who loves their own voice, he seems to like listening to yours a lot. "But now you're here. Cleaning my body -- which I could've done myself."
He snickers at your pointed tone.
"You turned a part of my routine that I absolutely hate into.. something I can look forward to?" You mutter, words slowly growing quite. "Just by your presence."
"I'm just that great." Casper proclaims, clearly proud of himself.
You cup some of the bathwater in your hands, before chucking it backwards.
Casper hisses, like the cat he is.
"Sunshine. Don't be difficult." He grumbles from behind you. That manages to shut you up.
Casper aims the water to your head, before combing out the conditioner with his hands. He's a lot more gentle than you are when it comes to things like these.
"Do you want me to help with-"
"Nope! No. Thank you." You say as fast as you can. Having someone wash your hair for you is embarrassing enough - but your body?
Casper backs off, leaving some space between him and the tub. You turn your head to look at him.
His expression is soft.
"I wouldn't mind doing this for you, by the way." He hums, leaning down for the last time to place a kiss between your brows. "It's really no problem."
Your mouth forms a frown at the idea. It's nice, but... you can't accept that - even if you want to.
"I can't let you do that for me. I mean, you'd have to wake up early in the morning-"
"Which I already do."
"Well... I'm just going to be grouchy the entire time."
"And why would that stop me?" He hums. "It never stopped you, did it?"
You turn your head around, trying to come up with something to say as you look at the water trickling around your body.
"I can't push you to do anything you don't want to - but if this is also something you want, I'm asking you to think about it. As of now, I don't have a job. I spend most of my time here waiting for you and protecting your house from danger. If I could start my mornings taking care of you? I'd do anything."
Casper finally stands up, looming over you. He places a hand on your head, before finally walking out.
"I love you." He says, looking at you before he leaves.
"Me too."
"I'll make you breakfast while you shower." He smiles, closing the door. At least one thing is going right this morning.
A/N: I don't take baths so I'm not exactly sure why I wrote this ??
Anyways !! I thought it would be fun to do, like, a reverse of the bath scene !
#a date with death#casper adwd#a date with death vn#casper x reader#adwd#a date with death x reader#river's writing
514 notes
·
View notes
Text
This game is pulling on my heart strings and they deserve a nap (I got the ending 8 on the DLC)
#casper my beloved#a date with death#a date with death casper#a date with death x reader#casper x reader#casper x mc#they deserve it
897 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lost Connection [8394 | Grim | Casper]

Content: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Character Death, Ending One: Untrustworthy Spoilers, Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days Spoilers, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert
Pronouns: None
Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!
This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries

Establishing the connection was fine (despite the prolonged eye contact that made you squirm).
Creating the bridge for him to cross was fine as well (you wouldn't say imaging a bridge is all that difficult).
The issue was after he crossed. Not only did the sudden intrusion of another soul make you jolt, but the chill of his soul made your own warm one bristle.
You tried to stay quiet as his soul poke, prodded and examined your own, but something in your gut began to twist.
"Please...stop..." You whispered as you dug your fingernails dug into your palms. "It...hurts..."
He called your name. Usually that would sooth you, ground you, but now it only seemed to rile the growing fire in you even more.
Your brows furrowed, as sweat began to gather on your forehead, "I...I can't..."
"Then calm down! I will leave, but you need to calm down first!" His voice sounded underwater. "If you don't stop, you'll be dead before I can leave!"
"Please..." You squeezed your eyes tighter, a few tears slipping free.
"Sunshine!"
And then you slipped from your chair, falling harshly against the floor.
Sweat and tears mixed as the intense heat consumed you.
Plink, plink, plink
You opened your eyes, head lolling to the side.
There were small shards of crystals on your floor.
You brought a hand up to your face.
There were crystal growing out the side of your hand.
You hummed. "So this is what nonexistence is...I thought I'd just fade away..."
Not all this, the pain and the beauty.
And yet, despite your current situation, you could only think about him.
"Grim, I'm sorry."

He gasped, as his consciousness was forced back into his body.
"Shit, shit, shit!" He leapt from his chair, teleporting from his bedroom to the waypoint closest to your apartment. "Fuck!"
His feet pounded against the asphalt, the harsh sound echoing against the buildings of the silent streets. His heart thumped wildly in his chest as his vision began to darken at the edges.
It was already beginning...
He had to get to you faster.
He quickly dropped into a crouch, building the strength of his legs and leaping into the air. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, willing himself to go faster and faster.
Until he stood across from your building. He eyed your window, breathing a small sigh of relief as he realized your window was slightly opened.
"Kmysuin..." He whispered as the glamour washed over him. Now to the mortals he was just a lone raven roaming the skies. Then he stepped from the rooftop, his foot connecting with solid air.
His heart was in his throat now, but he couldn't hesitate. He had to do something. Despite the facts, you were an anomaly. So maybe, just maybe, he could do something to save you.
He pulled the window open more, and stepped in.
You were on the floor, propped up against the side of your bed.
He blinked.
You smiled.
"...hi, grim..."
You were crystallizing.
He dropped beside you, pulling his legs up to his chest.
"sorry...about this..." Your head dropped onto his shoulder.
He reached out for your rapidly crystallizing hand. You weren't a warm sunbeam anymore. Now you were the sun itself. Through your connected hands, he could feel your soul as it pulsed rapidly within you.
Fighting to for your existence.
"...i didn't mean..." You paused for a moment, then gripping his hand tighter before continuing, "can i tell you...a secret, grim?"
He nodded.
"...i love you...grim"
He sniffed, finally turning to face you. "I love you too." And with those four words, his tears finally ran free. "I have a secret for you too. My actual name is Casper."
Despite the crystal encasing your face, you smiled widely. "i love you, cas—"
And then you were gone. Your body, that was fully crystallized, began to disappear into beautiful sparks of dust.
He gripped your hand harder.
Until you were finally no more.
And he was left with nothing,
He opened his hand.
But a shard of you.
"I'm so sorry, Sunshine."

No one should be surprised that the next thing I posted was angst. Truly off brand that I didn't post angst first, but I did get the 3rd ending first.
And now I've gotten the 1st!
The devs called it a mini bad ending, ha, well now I've gotten my hands on it :)
Can't wait till I get the actual bad ending :)
Small notes: I am a KH fan through and through lmao, and second, if you know what the language is for the glamour spell, you're cool :)
Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets#a date with death x reader#a date with death grim x reader#a date with death casper x reader#grim x reader#casper x reader#a date with death vn#cw: character death
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
Visual Novels & Webtoons

Note: Please do not read if you are not okay with yandere tendencies or violence!
Discord!!!! Please join if you like reading and/or writing or just want to talk (text). It will be my way of talking or obsessing over these characters.
Note: The Discord Link is now updated! Feel free to join!
。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆ 。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆
Dreaming Freedom
Nothing yet
The Kid at the Back
Through the Illustrated Veil
The Coffin of Andy and Leyley
“Your Andy”
Possession from Within
“Yes, We Really Do” (smut)
Through the Illustrated Veil
14 Days with you
Through the Illustrated Veil
Mushroom Oasis
Nothing yet
A Date with Death
Nothing yet
Favor
Embrace of Shadows (smut)
。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆ 。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆

#the coffin of andy and leyley#dreaming freedom#the kid at the back vn#the kid at the back sol#visual novel#webtoon#fanfic#fanfiction#andy and leyley#siyun baek#yandere x reader#yandere#the kid at the back fanart#sol brugmansia#solivan brugmansia#tkatb vn#tkatb sol#14 days with you#14dwy#14dwy ren#14dwy x reader#14dwy fanart#a date with death#mushroom oasis vn#mushroom oasis mychael#mushroom oasis fanart#a date with death casper#yandere visual novel#yandere vn#favor vn
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Blog Update!!

soo... if you haven't noticed, i have finally updated my master lists. (except for Fields of Mistria, but im writing a fic for it) that means im ready to open requests! but i also have to make another announcement, that my requests for IDV are permanently closed. I still play the game sometimes and have soooo much love for the characters! but i don't know many of the newer ones and i don't wanna butcher them. also, i wanna start writing for other fandoms!
im incredibly grateful for everyone who has found my blog through idv, i truly appreciate you all and im so honored that you've stuck around till now. I hope you'll still hang around as i broaden my horizons!
that being said, while I will not be taking requests for idv. I may write a post or two about my favorites from the game from time to time. so keep your eyes peeled! Thank you again to all my idv followers! i love you soo much!🌺
In other news, my list of fandoms has gotten bigger! they can all be found in my masterlist post. but I'll also have them here: (please don't forget ab my rules!)
Mystic Messenger
Haikyuu
Redacted Audio
Monster prom 1&2
Across The Spiderverse
Error 143
A Date With Death
Fields of Mistria
and im gonna have quite a bit of free time coming up, so im gonna say, again, that I'll be more active which is something I've said often. But this time I really do mean it! i have so many fic ideas in my head and i wanna interact with you all more often!
Thank you again to you all and I hope I'm able to make plenty of fics you'll all love in the future!
-Button🌺

TL;DR: my IDV requests are closed, but im back and writing for all other fandoms from my list!
#idv#idv x reader#button rambles🌺#information 🌺#i love you guys so much#fields of mistria#redactedverse#redacted audio#atsv x reader#across the spiderverse#haikyuu x reader#mystic mesenger#mystic messenger x reader#error 143 x reader#error 143#a date with death casper x reader#adwd x reader#a date with death#monster prom 2#monster prom#monster prom x reader
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
I really wish the dev put some action scene where grim fights because I REALLY WANT TO KNOW HOW HE FIGHTS WITH THOSE SCYTHE HE HAD KABDKWBDJWHD
His body also muscular, ain't no way he got no daily practice for those muscle. I think he's the type to play with his prey, and dealing with them is basically his pity for the victim because its their last day, yk?
And, on ending 6. I'm curious, does he still maintain his skill with scythe? Yes i know, his power would lessened with his form now but i got a good idea where on a random night walk with his beloved sunshine, sunshine accidentally stumbled upon a gangster who take no shit from anyone and will fight on the spot.
Imagine... Grim, humiliating them like a bunch of cotton and will say " Must be the wind " After beating up 9 grown man ALONE.
If he were a parent, a father! And his child got bullied while he still a grim reaper... Just wait for a sudden mourning news on the school about his child bully accidentally died in a horrible way. When his child questions it, he would simply say " Karma got them, sweety. " When in reality, he sneak up on the death of night, harvesting their soul prematury while also gave them a taste of " how death would look at you when it mad. "
Anyway, that's all. I need more practice to finally be able make a fict where grim actually fight!
Owh, also... Imagine him actually cut a vegetable or something with his scythe, KJakdjaks
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
your good boy
word count: 2.7k
warnings: smut, nsfw, switch!Grim, name spoilers
summary: he just looks so good in red ropes.
“Hey, Casp.” You hum, staring at the red rope in your hand. “Have you ever been tied up?”
“Sunshine, I haven’t even had sex before meeting you.” Casper looks back at you, raising a brow.
“Can I tie you up?”
He meets eyes with you, eyes trailing to the rope in your hand.
“...what about dinner.”
“What do you mean?” You grin, fingers trailing down his chest. “dinner’s right here .”
He swallows slowly as you press your chest to his, lips curled into a smile.
“Let me turn off the stove, please.”
“Of course.” You hum.
Casper shifts against the red on his skin as you tug on the rope, sliding your fingers underneath to make sure it isn’t bruising. While you wouldn’t be against seeing his skin bloom with red because of the rope, you’d much rather have your mouth be the one to bruise him. The rope secures around the reaper snugly as you brush your thumb over his shoulder, lips curling upward at the sight of his skin flushed.
“Don’t you think you look pretty, Casp?” You coo, leaning to press a kiss to his temple as he whimpers.
“Yeah…” He whispers. “Do you think I’m pretty?”
“The prettiest.” You smile. “Color?”
“Green.” He whispers, tilting his head for you as you kiss him. His eyes go half-lidded as you hold his face, and he parts his lips to let you do whatever, a whimper in his throat as one of your hands slides down to his chest, thumb brushing his nipple as he jolts. He strains against the rope on his skin, eyes wide he stares up at you, biting his bottom lip to hold back a whimper.
“You can be vocal.” You mumble. “I like listening to you.”
Casper’s breath hitches as you press your lips to his neck, a silent beg slipping past his lips as you bite down on his collarbone, sucking gently until the familiar red shows up, and you smile at the flush on his skin. He whimpers when your teeth graze over his pulse point, eyes teary as he blinks at you, cock hard on his chest as you catch the precum form a bead on his tip, and you move your hand down his chest, tugging at the ropes slightly as your thumb brushes over the tip, sliding the precum down his length.
Casper whimpers, straining against the rope against his skin.
“M-more,” He gasps. “Please. I want more.”
“You want more?” You raise a brow at him. “More?”
He nods feverishly. “Please? I’m… your good boy, right?”
“Right.” You hum. “You’re doing a great job.” You whisper. “Just hold on, alright?”
Casper nods, muscles flexing under the rope as you open your mouth. “Open up, pretty boy.”
Casper listens, opening his mouth as you let the spit on your tongue roll into his.
“Now swallow.”
He complies, swallowing and showing you his tongue.
“And one more for…” The fluid is warm on your palm as you spit onto it, pressing your lips to Casper’s when your hand slides down his cock, causing his breath to hitch. Yet, he stays still as your hand moves up and down his length, his breath on your skin as you press your chest to his face. He nuzzles into your chest as you slide your hand up and down slowly, squeezing slightly at the base. Casper’s breath grows ragged as he whines about being close.
“P-please, sunshine, please.” He gasps in broken breaths. “Please let me cum. Please. Please. Pl— ”
You slow down, shushing Casper as he whines about losing the feeling of his orgasm. You lower yourself to latch your lips to his chest and suck as he chokes, curling forward as your hand continues slower than before.
“Sunshine, please.” He whimpers. “wanna cum.”
“Beg for it, Casp.” You mumble. “Come on. You’re such a good boy, right?”
“please let me cum.” He whines. “Please, sunshine. I’ll be your good boy, please? I’m begging you. Sunshine, please.”
“Mm, maybe harder.” You mumble, speeding up again as he whines. “You can do that, right?”
“Sunshine, sunshine, sunshine , please, please please let me cum. I’ve been so good, right? I’ve listened and swallowed and obeyed. Please?” He gasps, mind going blank as the coil in his stomach tightens, his release just so close. “I’m your good boy. Please, I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day just so you could touch me. please , let me cum. Please?”
You stop altogether as he cries, straining against the rope as he tries to chase after your touch.
“Sunshine —”
“Shh,” You mumble. “Wouldn’t you much rather have my mouth than my hands? You’re such a good boy, right? Good boys deserve the best?”
Casper nods feverishly, moaning as you kiss the tip of his cock gently, lips curling into a smile as you move to bite his thigh, sucking as you latch your mouth to his pale skin, biting and leaving a mark, pulling back only when you’re sure it’ll stay, and you blink up at Casper, lashes thick and full, blinking innocently with a smile on your lips.
“Sunshine, please touch me.” He whimpers.
“What do you mean, Casper? I am touching you.” You drum your fingers against his thigh as he pouts.
“Please touch my…” His face grows impossibly red as it spreads to his ears, and he whimpers. “...cock”
“What was that, pretty boy?”
“Please touch my cock and make me cum.” He cries, tears in the corner of his eyes as he looks to the side, embarrassed.
You click your tongue. “Naughty boy.” You laugh, staring up at him as you give him a lick from the base to the tip. “Saying such dirty words.”
Casper throws his head back with a groan and whimper as you finally use your mouth, sucking on him as his muscles flex around the red on his skin. He gasps, breathing speeding up as he feels his orgasm climb up his spine again, and he’s so close, he’s almost there . He cries your name as he finally feels himself reach his orgasm. God, he’s so close.
“Sunshine, right, yes, please, hng — please please please please please plea—”
You stop all at once, pulling off of him with your mouth open and tongue out, batting your lashes at him innocently, and something snaps inside of him. He fights against the rope as his shoulders break free, and the rope around his arm loosens, and you stare at him as he sits up, hands flying to your waist as he forces you down on the mattress,
“Open up, sunshine.” Casper mumbles, thumb on your bottom lip as he holds you down.
You comply, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.
“I am simply returning the favor.” Casper whispers, holding your jaw open as his spit slides off his tongue into yours. “There you go. You have it back now, sunshine. Be a good girl and take what I give you, alright? I took everything you gave me earlier, right? I’m your good boy? Right?”
You nod as he brushes his thumb over your clit, squirming as he slides it down between your folds, blinking twice when he notices how wet you are.
“You had that much fun edging me?” Casper feigns a frown, sliding a finger into you as you gasp, squirming. His palm holds you down as he curls the finger, and your nails dig into the bedding as he slides a second one into you with ease, with a lewd squelch . You try and hide your face in embarrassment but he reaches for your wrists, holding them down as he continues fingering you, lips curled into a ghost of a smirk as you bite your lip down to try not to moan. “Come on, sunshine. You sound gorgeous when you’re being vocal. How come you get to hear me whimper when I do not get to hear you?”
You stare down at him, teary-eyed as he presses into a particular spot in you, and you gasp, letting go of your bottom lip.
“That sounds much better, sunshine.” He hums, thumb brushing your clit as that causes you to clench around him, walls fluttering around his fingers as you gush and make a mess around his fingers.
Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, teary-eyed as Casper pulls his fingers out to lick your cum off his fingers. He maintains eye contact with you, making a show of it as you stare at him licking his fingers, tongue stuck out just for you. You swallow slowly, mind spinning as you feel your body heat up almost instantly. You swear you can feel yourself salivating too.
“Sunshineeee…” Casper drawls, hands sliding up your thighs to hook your ankle over his shoulder. He leans into your ankle, turning his head to kiss it gently, eyes still resting on your body, up your stomach, around your chest, to your lips… and finally to your eyes with a smirk. He presses another kiss to your ankle as you feel your heart race in your chest and your skin floods with warmth— as if you hadn’t been hot already. “I hope you listen well… sunshine.”
You yelp as he bottoms out in you instantly, eyes wide as your hands scramble to push against his chest. He’s too big dammit. You lean forward as you try and adjust to his size, pussy quivering from the stretch, refusing to stare down at the way he bulges in your skin. You reach down to push him away, but he pays no mind as your nails graze his abs, leaning in further to force your legs to your shoulders as his breath mingles with yours, a smile on his face at your tear-stained lashes, and you bat your lashes at him, a pout on your lips as he gives you a second to adjust to his size. You whimper out an affirmative for him to move, and he leans back, holds your legs with an arm, and hammers into you as you yell, eyes wide as your breathing hastens and you feel your breath catch in your throat. Casper’s name comes out in broken increments as you feel your first orgasm crash through your body, your pussy fluttering around Casper’s cock as he doesn’t show any signs of stopping.
“Ca- casper.” You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. “S-slow down.”
“Sorry, sunshine.” He mumbles, speeding up instead. “Need… to cum…”
You choke as he cuts you off with a particularly rough slam of his hips, tears in the corner of your eyes as you squirm underneath his body, whining and whimpering with each roll of his hips, sensitive from the way his cock grazes your insides. You throw your head back as he presses into a particularly sensitive part of your insides, making you choke as you feel tears roll down the sides of your eyes. Casper reaches to wipe it, letting your ankles rest on his shoulders again as he leans forward to force your knees to your shoulders, arms supporting himself on both sides of you as he groans at the way you gush around him again. You cry as he continues, and you moan as you feel him pulse in you, signaling that he was close.
He leans his body weight on you as he cums in you, your eyes wide as you feel his warmth spread in you, and you wonder for a second if he’s done for good this time. Yet, as soon as he finishes, you gasp from oversensitivity as he starts thrusting again, making you yelp.
“Casper!”
“One more.” He whimpers. “One more, please, sunshine. You have one more for me, right? Just one more. I’m not—” he grunts, “done. Please, sunshine.”
You don’t get to complain when he’s so desperate, practically panting and drooling all over you as your nails scratch down his back, red streaks on his skin as he continues thrusting into you, tears in the corner of both of your eyes as you flutter around him with another orgasm, squirting from your oversensitivity as he pauses to stare at the way you stain his abs and thighs, and his eyes sharpen as he picks up speed again.
“One more.” He begs. “Please, sunshine. I need to see you do that again. Just one more.”
You don’t have the strength to answer anymore, only whimpering in response.
He moves a hand to brush your clit as you clench around him in embarrassment, warmth all over your chest as you feel his cum and yours mix in you and slide out with each time he thrusts into you. You try and ignore the way it makes a lewd squish each time he slides into you, and you gasp and claw at his shoulders as you feel another orgasm building up, gushing around him as you cry and dig into his shoulders, nails drawing blood as he cums in you again, white mixing with yours as he slumps onto you, catching his breath as he waits for his heartbeat to return to normal.
He nuzzles into your chest, brushing his lips over your nipples with gentle affection as he listens to your heartbeat. He blinks slowly, getting up as you catch your breath.
“So much for tying you up.” You grumble.
“Sorry… sunshine.” He mumbles. “I’ll let you tie me up another time.”
“It’s okay.” You sit up slowly, thanking Casper as he hands you a glass of water. “You too, pretty boy. Come on, Casp.”
He takes the glass from you when you finish drinking, and the two of you pause at the bruises on your hips and the hickey on his neck.
“Bath?”
“Shower.” Casper grimaces. “Shower, for sure.”
You nod. “Can I wash you?”
“Of course.” He whispers. “Can I wash you?”
“Always, Caspy.” You hum, taking his hand as you try to stand. You stumble, legs sore as he catches you, and the two of you stare into each other’s eyes before bursting into laughter.
“I’ll carry you,” He holds his arms out for you as you let him hold you, and your legs squish together, a mix of cum and sweat, and the two of you start the shower.
“Are you doing to do your skincare?” You hold your hand out under the shower.
“Yeah.” He steps under the shower first, motioning for you to join. “Will you watch?”
“Will you put the products on for me?” You tilt your head.
“We have different skin types.”
“Right.” You pout. “I’ll watch, then.”
Casper has you turn around first, fingers sliding down your skin as he scrubs the sweat from your skin, fingers smooth against your flesh as he wipes you down.
“You gonna slide your fingers back into me, pretty boy?” You wiggle your brows with a grin.
“To clean you.” He pouts, jutting out his bottom lip. “Don’t forget to pee to avoid the UTI.”
“You’re so sweet.” You hum as he slides his fingers up your thigh to brush the soap on. “My sweetheart.”
He smiles in response to the name, rinsing you off.
“My turn, pretty boy.” You hum, reaching for his body soap. “Turn around, please?”
You wash Casper off with ease, lips curled into a smile as he hums in satisfaction when your nails graze his skin. He leans his head back to rinse the shampoo from his hair, and you cheer. You sit on the counter as he does his skincare routine, humming happily as he kisses you between steps, explaining to you again what each product did. Then, Casper helps you dry your hair, spraying on a heat protectant before blow drying it, and you help him hold the hairdryer as he dries his own hair. You reach for a strand and press a kiss to the tip, lips curled into a teasing smile.
He shakes his head at you in harmless embarrassment.
Then, the two of you head to bed, your arm under his neck as you snuggle into him, eyes closed and pressing a lazy kiss to his forehead.
“Sleep well, Casper.”
“You too, sunshine.”
#this was originally on ao3 LOL#☾.nsfw#☾.fics#grim reaper x reader#casper x reader#a date with death x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Shirt Too Big, Shorts Too Small
Sub/Bottom Casper x Top/Dom Male Reader
Prompt - Pinterest
Warnings - Anal sex, cream pie, riding,


You stared at Casper with wide eyes.
Casper was staring back, but with curiosity instead of lust. “Are you wearing anything under that?” You asked, still staring at Casper.
Casper was wearing a shirt that you bought a while ago. You never wore it because you bought it online and it was too big for you. You were the same height as Casper so it was also big on him.
Casper had rolled up the sleeves but the bottom of it covered his legs, almost down to his knees. You were staring at Casper’s waist to be specific.
You could feel your pants getting tighter.
You couldn’t tell if Casper had anything on underneath. Casper slowly pulled the shirt up to reveal that he was wearing incredibly short shorts, booty shorts if you remembered the name of them.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Casper said before dropping the shirt. The shorts were way too short.
They circled Casper’s thighs perfectly and were just tight enough to show an outline of Casper’s dick. Your pants were getting tighter. You blinked a couple times before smirking.
“Not for long”, you said.
You pulled on Casper’s shirt.
Casper moaned as his back hit your chest, allowing your dick to line up with his prostate perfectly. “Don’t you think you look better with nothing on?” You asked Casper.
Casper looked down, his shirt was rolled up a bit, revealing his erect dick with pre cum dripping down it. “Y-yes~”, Casper moaned right as you started moving again.
You fell back onto your ass and leaned back, “ride me”, you said and Casper immediately started moving. You wished you could see Casper’s face, but his sounds were good. “Nnggee~”, Casper moaned as he leaned forward.
You reached your hand forward and lifted Casper’s shirt and moved his hair. This gave you a perfect view of your dick moving in and out of Casper.
“F-fuck”, Casper groaned, every time he bounced your dick hit his prostate. Casper stopped moving, all of your dick up his ass. “Come on, move if you want to cum”, you said.
Casper turned his head and glared at you. “F-fuck me”, Casper said. You just smirked at Casper. Casper turned his head back and started moving again.
This time faster and harder than the first time. “Shit”, you groaned as Casper moved faster. Casper gritted his teeth as he moved to try to get his orgasm but he was failing.
Casper started breathing heavily and stopped moving. “Aw, you getting tired?” You asked while leaning up and wrapping your hands around Casper’s waist.
“Beg”, you whispered in Casper’s ear.
Casper whined and moved his hips back and forth. “F-fuck m-me, nine hells”, Casper groaned. “Be nice”, you said in a sing-songy voice. Casper glared at you, “f-fuck m-me please~” Casper moaned as he moved his hips up and down once.
You smirked and grabbed Casper’s hips, moving him up and down. “AH~”, Casper moaned as you started moving him at a fast pace. “Y-yes~ f-faster~”, Casper moaned and you did just that.
“F-fuck”, you groaned as you felt Casper clench around your dick. You thrusted moved your hips up to meet Casper’s bouncing, chasing your orgasm.
“Oh~”, Casper moaned as you held him down and came inside of him. Casper let out a moan as he came, spurting it over the pillows on your bed. You leaned forward and pulled Casper’s shirt down. Covering his dick barely.
Casper will definitely wear this shirt more.
#lgbtq#male reader imagines#male reader#dom top male reader#top male reader#dom male reader#sub character#bottom character#a date with death#a date with death screenshots#a date with death casper#a date with death grim#a date with death x reader#two and a half studios#visual novel#dating sim#adwd x reader#adwd x male reader#adwd grim#adwd casper#adwd#sub casper#bottom casper#casper x reader#casper x male reader#casper#grim x male reader#grim x reader
870 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sleep ⋆☾⋆
↳ Casper x GN!Reader
There's something about the fact that his hair looks even better, all sprawled out in your pillow as the reaper peacefully sleeps next to you.
He looks so beautiful.
Of course he does. Part of you is almost irritated by it -- no one should look this good while asleep! But how can you be mad knowing that this sight is something that you, only you, will ever see?
No one else will be able to see his white lashes pointing downwards as his eyes stay closed and relaxed. No one else will be able to brush their thumb against his pink lips, which are slightly parted open.
This sight is for you and you only.
Your hands linger to his hair. So soft, so smooth. There's no doubt that he takes care of it. You sit up, back against the headboard, as you twirl your fingers along the ends of it.
You can't believe anyone would try to take this away from you. How cruel.
Your fingers tighten at the thought.
Ever since he, albeit unofficially, came to live with you, you've grown used to his presence. You don't know how you survived without him.
Your gaze lingers to his eyes.
Honestly, you doubt you'd survive if he ever happened to leave.
Carefully, you bring your hand closer, inspecting his white locks. They almost look blue in this light -- or lack thereof.
It's pretty. He's always pretty.
When your eyes flicker back to his face, you notice his eyes fluttering open.
Ah, fuck.
Casper lets out a sleepy groan, clearly annoyed by you waking him up.
He tilts his head up from his pillow, and his hair immediately falls to frame his face -- how does it do that?
When his head is finally upright, his brows are pinched together, and he has his mouth in a pout.
"Ah, did I wake you?" You whisper quietly, letting go of his hair to rub at your neck sheepishly. You try not to feel too bad.
"Why are you awake?" His voice is deeper. His voice is softer.
You didn't know what in the world had led to you having the luxury of hearing him so.. soft, and gentle, but you're sure as hell thanking it in this moment.
"Couldn't sleep."
He doesn't seem to be pleased with your answer, but he never is. You don't give it too much thought.
You thought that was it, and he'd immediately go back to his needed beauty sleep, but it doesn't stop there.
Casper wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer by your waist.
It only takes a second for your back to press against his chest, and immediately afterwards, he wraps his legs around your own.
Casper is cold, as always.
But his presence makes you feel warm.
"Get some rest," he whispers against your ear, squeezing your body. "Please."
"At least you know your manners, hm?" You immediately reply.
Instead of getting huffy like usual, he lets out a chuckle that tickles your skin.
He places a soft kiss to the back of your neck.
"Sleep."
A/N: chat i need them so bad its not even funny.. i NEED THEM SO BAD ITS EMBARRASSING
#a date with death#casper adwd#casper x reader#a date with death x reader#casper adwd x reader#a date with death vn#x reader#river's writing
632 notes
·
View notes
Text
❛ 𝒽𝒶𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝓇𝒾𝓂 / 𝒸𝒶𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝒷!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇
𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: You were just an average assistant at a high-profile fashion magazine, drowning in coffee runs, a horrible bitch boss, last-minute deadlines, and the occasional existential crisis. Nothing out of the ordinary.
That was until he showed up; a sharp-tongued, infuriatingly attractive grim reaper with a bad habit of haunting you. Why? Good question. Apparently, you were on some kind of hit list, and he was assigned to reap your soul.
But if he thought he could scare you into submission, he was dead wrong. Because if a little reaper wanted to haunt you…
…well, you might as well haunt him right back.
𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: Me. A new obsession. So this one extra long and I wrote this while listening to 'Haunted' by Beyoncé, feeling every note, and watching The Devil Wears Prada.
𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: casper x afab!reader, subby!casper x dominant!Reader, soul-stealing, playful power dynamics, praise, pet names, teasing, love/hate relationship, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers, slow burn, seductive banter, gentle, blowjob then maybeeeee rough smut, anal sex.
The mortal plane was always predictable.
A annoying world of flesh and bone, ruled by where life start in the wound and ends with a tomb. No matter how any human they fought, no matter how desperately they clung to existence, all paths led to him in the end.
Life was but a momentary flicker in the abyss, and he was the hand that extinguished the flame.
The space between worlds was his domain. A place where the living dared not tread, where the air was thick with the murmurs of the forsaken. Here, in the endless dark, he watched.
They called him many things—Grim Reaper, Phantom of the Veil, Death itself. He was the silent end of all things, the whisper in the final breath, the inevitable shadow lurking behind every heartbeat.
With a touch, he unraveled kings, crumbled empires, and reduced the devout to weeping husks. His presence alone could halt the breath of creation.
Like there was no force he could not bring to ruin. No soul could resist his claim. He had never known hesitation. Never known failure. And yet now, something wrong stood at the threshold of his dominion.
You. A mortal—or so you should have been.
His gaze burned through the abyss, crimson eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, his presence stretching across the fragile boundary between realms. A cold wind stirred in the living world, unnatural in its weight, pressing into the earth, curling around your feet like unseen fingers.
A warning. A summons. A death sentence.
And yet, you did not move.
Other spirits shrank from him, retreating into the shadows, whispering their prayers into the void. They clung to you—not in terror, but in something else. Recognition. As though you were not an intruder among them, but kin.
It was unnatural. A violation of the natural order.
A mortal could not walk this close to death and remain. A mortal should not be able to meet his gaze and still breathe. Yet, you stood unshaken, silent at the edge of the veil.
At first, he thought it was something else—perhaps a simple mistake? Some foolish soul who had wandered too close to oblivion.
But then, he saw it.
The unnatural stillness in your breath, steady and unfaltering, untouched by fear. The way the spirits curled around you—not in dread, but in something eerily close to devotion. The way you stood, unshaken, where no living thing should linger.
You were not like the others.
The realization coiled in his mind, very much amused. His head tilted, strands of white hair slipping over his shoulder as his crimson eyes narrowed. Did you sense him?
Could you feel the weight of his gaze settling over you like frost, lingering against your skin like the cold fingers of the dead?
You should have.
And yet, even as the wind howled and the night pressed in, you remained unbothered. No shiver. No faltering breath. No fear.
A slow, eerie smile crept across his lips. How quaint.
It had been centuries—millennia—since anyone had dared to meet his gaze with such unwavering defiance. The bold ones never lasted long. The moment they recognized him for what he truly was, the bravado cracked, the terror set in, and they fell apart like all the rest.
But you… you were different.
Grim let the word slip from his lips like a curse, testing the weight of it in the space between you.
"Mortal."
The sound twisted unnaturally in the air, stretching across the veil like a breath of something ancient, something final. But even as it echoed through the abyss, it felt… wrong.
You did not carry the scent of death, nor the warmth of the living. You stood in the in-between, poised on the knife’s edge of existence. Impossible. An aberration.
His fingers curled beneath his chin, gloved and motionless as he exhaled, mist curling from his lips like the dying breath of a world. No, you weren’t quite mortal, were you? Something sharp and hungry settled in his chest, a curiosity he had not felt in a very, very long time.
Perhaps he should test you.
See what made you different.
The studio thrived with straight-up chaos—just racks of garments rolling between rooms, fabrics draped over mannequins like offerings to some unseen deity.
Photographers adjusted their lenses, capturing such perfection with every calculated click, while designers hovered over sketches, their minds frenzied with last-minute alterations.
The air smelled of high-end perfume, ink, and freshly steamed fabric, a scent so distinctly alive that it nearly repelled the presence lurking in its midst. It wasn’t long before he found himself within a space not meant for his kind.
Grim rarely walked among the living so openly, yet here he stood, a phantom amid the world’s most fragile creatures—so blissfully unaware of how close death brushed against their skin.
And then, there was you.
Moving effortlessly through the flurry of industry, weaving between designers and assistants, clipboard in hand, murmuring approvals, adjusting details. Unlike the frantic energy of those around you, you moved with certainty, never flustered, never scrambling, as if the world bent to your pace rather than the other way around.
Grim watched. Intrigued. How pretty.
The thought whispered through him, curling in his mind like smoke. But not in the way he usually observed mortal beauty—delicate, soft, doomed to wither. No, you were not something that would crumble at a mere touch. You were enduring. Again, soft, like a perverse flower. Something worth admiring.
And he should not have been admiring you at all.
He had come for someone else. A soul marked by time, its final grains of sand slipping irreversibly through the hourglass. But you...
You were full of life. Stubbornly so.
It was meant to be nothing more than a passing glance, his eyes filled with curiosity. And yet—something about you demanded his attention. How dare you?
Perhaps it was the way the golden studio lights framed your face when you stopped at your desk, scanning through today's catalog. The glow from your laptop screen reflected in your eyes as you sent out the requests your boss had demanded. Or perhaps it was the way you should have sensed him.
Because you did.
He saw it in the way your fingers lingered over your keyboard, a slight hesitation, the briefest flicker of something in your expression. The way your posture shifted—not in fear, but in awareness.
You looked up. Behind you. To the side. As if you expected something to be there. And still… no fear.
Grim's lips curled into the ghost of a smirk, a slow, knowing thing. How quaint. A mortal that did not cower in his presence. He had seen countless souls—broken, frightened, bargaining for more time.
They always begged. Always.
But you? Shit, you couldn’t care less.
You simply turned back to your work, unbothered, as if Death itself was not standing like right behind you, watching. Fascinating.
Like damn, this was going to be a long day.
You shouldn’t have looked at him.
Honestly, rookie mistake. Why, out of all the places to let your eyes wander, did they have to land on a pale figure just lurking at the edge of your vision? White hair, almost glowing in the bright golden office lights, just floating there menacingly.
At first, you barely reacted. Spirits followed you enough that one more ghostly presence in your life wasn't exactly a new issue. It was like another annoying email in your inbox—just something you learned to ignore.
But then... he got closer.
You’d think a literal death-bringer would have better things to do than stalk some underpaid assistant at a fashion studio, but nope, there he was, just lingering. Hanging around the clothing racks, floating down the hallways like he had nothing better to do.
"Mortals are usually more entertaining than this," he mused, materializing beside you as you sorted through today’s catalog.
You didn’t react. Nor said anything back.
"They beg, weep, try to strike deals, but you? Not even a glance?" He leaned over your shoulder, reading the emails you were responding to. “Are you truly this dull, or is this job slowly draining what’s left of your soul?”
Still, you ignored him. Just to pretend you were irritated about work rather than the undead menace hovering behind you. Your boss stormed past your desk, rambling about a last-minute change in the collection lineup, completely unaware that you were being haunted.
“You!” she barked. “I need all the model sheets and—ugh, coffee. Black. No sugar.”
You didn’t even blink. “Yes, ma’am.”
Grim tilted his head, amused. “So obedient. How tragic.”
Your eye twitched.
Twenty minutes later, he was still talking.
"So, what exactly do you do here? Fold fabric? Worship those absurdly tall skeletons you call ‘models’? Suffer?"
You exhaled sharply, flipping through the model sheets as you strode down the hall, hoping to outwalk itself.Spoiler alert: you couldn’t.
"Why can’t they see you?" you muttered under your breath, careful not to draw attention from your coworkers as you balanced a tray of coffee cups.
Grim laughed. "Because I don’t want them to."
"Then why can I?"
"Good question. Why can you?" His grin was infuriatingly smug.
You glared at him, resisting the urge to dump scalding coffee onto thin air just to see if he could feel it.
Instead, you set your boss’s drink down on her desk and marched straight to the breakroom, hoping for a few minutes of peace. You swore, though, he was practically waiting outside the door for his cue, like some kind of ghostly actor who knew exactly when to make his dramatic entrance.
And when he did walk in, it was with the kind of confidence that only the dead—and apparently, Spirt—could possess. He moved like he owned the place, a pale figure that seemed to suck the air out of the room. You just wanted to sip your lukewarm tea and get a moment of calm in this whirlwind of a day.
A quiet moment. As rare as they were in this fashion department. But, of course, the real problem started the moment he stepped into the room.
Because as soon as he entered, he decided to open his mouth.
And when you say talk, you mean he did not shut up.
“Is this your lunch break? How tragic. So much time wasted just sipping a tepid drink while the world spins itself into chaos,” he mused, hovering a little too close for comfort.
You blinked, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “Could you not?” You muttered, but he didn’t care. Oh no. He had all the time in the world to follow you around and spout whatever grim commentary he thought would make him sound more ominous.
"Such a sad existence you lead," he added, his voice trailing through the air like the chill of a winter’s night. “So many frivolous tasks, chasing shadows, pretending they matter."
“I’m sorry, what?” you said, only half-listening, as you dumped more sugar into your cup. Honestly, you’d been through worse. Talking to spirits was one thing, but this guy? This one was special. He dared to follow you everywhere—like an annoying coworker you couldn’t escape.
The tea was forgotten, abandoned on the counter as you stormed down the hallway, desperate for a moment of peace. The last thing you needed was this annoying, pale figure following you around and spouting off endless nonsense about time, existence, and whatever cosmic philosophy he was into today.
Of course, he wasn’t done. No, he didn’t understand the concept of space. He was right behind you, still standing as if there were no boundaries between worlds. You could practically feel him breathing down your neck as he leaned in, his voice cold and unnervingly close.
“You can’t feel it, can you?” He asked his words low, almost like a whisper in your ear. “You’re untouched by the flow of time like you’re standing between worlds. It’s fascinating. You should be afraid of me."
That was it. You’d had enough.
You stopped so suddenly that he almost walked into you. The Grim Reaper ghostly figure nearly collided with your back, but you didn’t even flinch. Instead, you pivoted on your heel with the kind of speed that made your coworkers worry if you were secretly a superhero. You crossed your arms and gave him a look—a look so cold, so done, that even your interns would reconsider their life choices if they saw it.
“Yeah, well, I’m not, okay?” You snapped, finally locking eyes with him. “I just need to get through my damn day without hearing your creepy monologue about the futility of human life, all right?”
You exhaled slowly and stood a little taller, letting the words hit him like a wave. "Listen here, Casper," you hissed, your voice sharp. "I have a very stressful job, an underpaid salary, and exactly four hours of sleep. I don’t have the time—or the patience—for your existential whining. So either haunt someone else or sit there and shut up.”
Grim blinked, the oddest expression crossing his face.
How… how did you know his name?
For a moment, there was silence. He just stood there, staring at you with those piercing crimson eyes, like you had just solved a mystery he hadn’t even realized existed. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. It was as if he was trying to process what had just happened. Maybe he was looking at you differently now like he hadn’t quite figured you out. Was that… curiosity?
Then, with a slow, almost sinister chuckle, he tilted his head, his white hair flowing like a ghostly mane. The sound sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, but you stood firm.
“You’re different,” he said, his voice a little lower, almost in awe.
You were about to snap something sarcastic back when you realized the absurdity of the situation. You—stressed, underpaid, and half-delirious from lack of sleep—were standing face to face with a literal Grim Reaper, and he was the one awed by you?
A bitter laugh almost escaped you, but you swallowed it down, irritated beyond belief. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re different too,” you muttered, grabbing your half-empty, lukewarm cup of tea from the break room counter.
You took another sip, feeling the sting of regret as the flavor barely registered on your tongue. “Definitely not what I signed up for today.”
Again, you were done with this. Absolutely, unequivocally done.
“Go away, Casper.” You were at your limit, your patience snapped into nothingness. His pale face was just too close—his crimson eyes staring at you with that unnerving mix of curiosity and amusement. You could feel his presence in every corner of the room like he was trying to worm his way into your very thoughts.
So you did what any person in your situation would do: you shoved him.
A simple push, just enough to send him stumbling back, and before he could catch himself, he fell into a rack of clothes. It was one of the designer gowns, a rich red that flowed like liquid, and the entire display tilted under his weight, sending a cascade of dresses crashing to the floor. The sudden noise was enough to startle your coworkers, heads swiveling as they watched the rack topple. But none of them saw the pale figure—just an empty rack of clothes spilling silk and fabric across the room.
You barely even glanced back as you walked away, your arms crossed tight, muttering under your breath.
“I’m not your plaything, Casper. Now get out of my face.”
Casper lay in the heap of tangled fabric, blinking in complete shock. His pale skin—almost glowing under the fluorescent lights—had flushed a deep red, a stark contrast against the rich tones of the gown still draped over his head. He lay there for a moment, completely disoriented.
No one—no one—had ever pushed him before. And yet, here he was, tangled in silks and stunned beyond belief.
For centuries, his presence had been feared, his touch the harbinger of death. When he stood near mortals, their very life force drained, absorbed by his touch like a dry sponge to water. No one touched him without losing something—some part of their essence, their time, their soul.
But you? You pushed him. And nothing happened. You didn’t wither. You didn’t fall to the ground, gasping for breath as so many others had.
Instead, you just stood there, that familiar, irritated look on your face. As if it were a bother.
He slowly sat up, pulling himself free of the mess of clothing. His usual confidence was shattered, replaced by a rare kind of vulnerability, an unfamiliar emotion twisting in his chest. He stared at you as you continued to walk away, your steps slow and deliberate, as if nothing in the world had happened.
How was it possible?
A mortal—you—had touched him, and yet, you weren’t dead. Or at least, you weren’t acting like it.
His heart—if he could still call it that—pounded with a new intensity. He couldn’t understand it. He had never met anyone like you, never encountered a mortal who refused to be touched by him, never one who dismissed him so… casually.
He pushed himself to his feet, brushing off the remnants of the clothes he’d knocked over, his pale cheeks still tinged red in a rare moment of fluster. He watched you, not moving, but he was already preparing for his next move.
Something about you intrigued him. You were far too interesting to just let go.
He took a step toward you but then stopped. His gaze fixed on the back of your head, your posture strong, as you walked away from him.
This... this was new.
Casper stood there for a long moment, uncertainty clinging to him like a ghost. Finally, his mouth curled into that familiar, eerie smile again. It was a slow, dangerous thing, full of intrigue.
You hadn’t just touched him. You haddefied him.
And that was something he hadn’t encountered in all his existence. Maybe, just maybe, this could be worth something after all.
Casper was… obsessed now. He had never encountered anything like you, and it gnawed at him, this unfamiliar sense of unresolved desire. You were not just some mortal, some fleeting soul to be reaped. No, you were a mystery—a puzzle that he couldn’t solve, and the very fact that you resisted him so effortlessly only deepened his fascination.
It wasn’t just the thrill of the chase that spurred him on. No. There was something else.
The high-ups, the ones who resided in the farthest reaches of the underworld, the ones who watched over him… they noticed.
A soul that couldn’t die? A soul that resisted the touch of death itself?
What did it mean? Was there something special about you?
Whispers spread like wildfire among the higher ranks. They didn’t understand it either, but they knew you were something worth having. Something that could change the rules. Something that could serve them—and maybe even him.
And so, Casper found himself following you like a shadow, lingering at your workplace, watching you from a distance when you left for the day, trailing you to the most mundane of places, his obsession only growing.
His pale figure appeared in glimpses—his white hair a stark contrast against the everyday world. He wasn’t trying to hide anymore; he didn’t need to. His focus was entirely on you, his every move calculated.
You had to know he was there.
You were far too perceptive to not notice the subtle shifts in the air, the flicker of his presence.
But he was clever. He was patient.
And he would get you to break.
The first time he cornered you after work, you were at the grocery store. It was a humdrum trip to stock up on essentials, the typical monotonous task that everyone in your position had to do. But not today.
No, today, Casper decided to make himself known.
You were scanning the aisles for something simple—maybe fruit, or a carton of milk—when you felt the unmistakable chill at your back. His presence.
"Hey," his voice was disturbingly casual, and when you turned, there he was, standing with his arms crossed, his usual eerie calm as ever. "Mind picking me up some original cup noodles and folded bread?"
You blinked, staring at him, incredulous. Of course, you had to question him. "What? Are you serious right now?" you asked, leaning against your cart. "Do you even eat?"
Casper tilted his head, the smile on his lips never wavering. "I do. Not like you. But still." He waved his hand absently as if it were the most normal request in the world. "Just a little snack, nothing too fancy."
You couldn't help but roll your eyes, your patience running thin. “You're dead, Casper. Why would you want cup noodles? And why would I go out of my way to get them for you?”
His response was a soft chuckle, cold and smooth. "Ah, but you see, the deal is this: I could give you something in exchange. Something you want. A little temptation, a trade. What’s your price?"
You glanced at the noodle aisle, ignoring him completely as you grabbed about 12-count cups of instant noodles for yourself. "Yeah, no. I’m good. You're not gonna tempt me with snacks."
Casper's eyes narrowed, a hint of frustration flickering behind his calm exterior. "What if I told you I could fix everything? The sleepless nights, the exhaustion, the stress. What if I could offer you peace?"
You tossed the noodles into your cart, uninterested. "I’m not looking for peace from a creepy grim reaper who can't take a hint."
Casper’s gaze grew darker. "You don’t know what I could give you. You don’t know how easy it would be to just—"
“Nope,” you interrupted, holding up a hand as if to stop him mid-sentence. You pulled out your phone, tapping away at a grocery list app to make it clear that he wasn’t worth your attention.
He let out an exasperated sigh, but his grin never faltered. “Still as stubborn as ever, huh?”
And just like that, you went back to your grocery shopping, effortlessly dodging his attempts to break through your calm.
The second time he tried was a little more… subtle. After your long shift, you decided to take a walk around the city to clear your mind. He appeared beside you on the sidewalk, as if he had been waiting, his steps soundless despite his form being right there.
“You know,” he started, his voice dripping with dark temptation, “I’ve been watching you. I could take away all your worries if only you’d trust me. Forget all this—your life, your struggles, the endless grind. Let me help you… Let me show you what I can offer.”
You didn’t even look up at him. “You keep offering me peace and I keep telling you I’m not interested.”
He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. “But what if you don’t have a choice anymore?” he asked, his tone darker, a little more insistent now.
You stopped and finally glanced up at him, your eyes narrowed. “I have a choice, and I choose for you to get the hell out of my way.”
He blinked, taken aback, as you casually sidestepped him and kept walking, your footsteps unhurried. You could feel his presence behind you, following, watching, but it didn’t matter. You had dealt with worse than some grim reaper with a vendetta.
Every time he tried, you outmaneuvered him with ease. Whether it was a carefully placed word, a choice to simply walk away, or the sharpness in your gaze that seemed to make him take a step back, you were always a step ahead. It was like a game, and with every move you made, he became more and more obsessed with you.
You were something impossible, and that was what gnawed at him the most.
The thrill of the chase, once so exhilarating, now felt hollow to him. He needed more. He needed to understand why you weren’t swayed by him. Why you couldn’t be broken. The problem was, he didn’t know how much you had already figured out about him—about death itself.
It started with something small. A quick moment when you were alone, a brief conversation when you thought no one was watching. He had asked you a question, one of those tricks to see if you would falter. Instead, your response had unsettled him.
“Do you ever think about what happens to you, after you die?”
You had looked at him like he was the mortal one. It wasn’t the question itself—it was the way you had said it, the way your eyes never wavered as you spoke.
Casper had chuckled, assuming you were making light of the topic.
But then, he saw it.
The way your gaze turned distant. Like you had seen something that wasn’t there. Like you knew something. “I’ve faced death many times,” you said, your voice so steady, so unbothered, it sent a chill through his entire existence. “It’s not as dramatic as you might think. You’d be surprised at how many times I’ve died without anyone realizing it.”
The words hung in the air. You weren’t joking. You weren’t pretending.
You knew what it was like to face death. To die.
That was the moment that he realized. It wasn’t just his touch that you could withstand. You were something else entirely. You had crossed paths with death more times than he could count—and you had survived.
The very nature of that unnerved him. How was it possible? How could you speak of it so casually, as though death was an old acquaintance you had learned to live with?
But what really disturbed him was the way you spoke of things even he didn’t know.
For the time you mentioned how the veil between the worlds had thinned after a certain incident, how the balance of life and death had shifted, even if it had seemed insignificant at the time. He did not know of it—none of it had been in the records, nothing he had been told during his training.
How could you know something like that? How did you see things he didn’t even see? There was something deeper inside you, something that made him uneasy.
You were not just a mortal.
Months passed, and he could feel his obsession intensifying, his frustration mounting. Every time you shrugged him off, every time you saw through his tricks, it was like a blow to his existence. It should have been easy to claim you, right? Just like any other soul. But there was something about you that turned everything he knew upside down.
And then, he followed you home. He didn’t care if it was stalking anymore. He had to understand you. Had to know what made you tick.
He watched you walk through the familiar door of your loft apartment, so effortlessly. To him, it felt like watching a predator enter its den. Yet, you remained unshaken.
It was a strange place for someone like you—too lived-in to be a typical mortal apartment, too quiet to be a place where anyone truly rested. You didn’t invite him in, didn’t even acknowledge his presence when you entered. But he followed.
His steps were silent, as always. He floated behind you, not wanting to miss a single moment. You didn’t even glance back, so used to his silent following that you barely reacted anymore.
The apartment was minimalist, but it had personality. A few things caught his eye—the piles of books that leaned precariously against the walls, the odd plants that seemed to be thriving despite your apparent lack of interest in them, and the dim lighting casting long shadows.
You moved around the apartment with practiced ease, grabbing something from the fridge, putting it into the microwave, your thoughts clearly somewhere else. He stood there, arms folded, waiting for you to break the silence.
And when you finally did, it wasn’t the question he expected.
“What do you want from me?” Your voice was sharp, and for the first time since he met you, he could hear the edge of tiredness in it. It wasn’t the usual disinterest or mockery.
It was weariness.
“I told you,” he started, almost sounding desperate now. “I want your soul.”
You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you glanced over at him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something in your eyes, something he couldn’t understand.
“But why?” Your voice was softer now, but still direct. “Why me? You’ve collected souls for how long, and you’ve never come across one like mine. Is that it? Am I some kind of… prize for you?”
He paused, thrown off by the unexpected vulnerability in your question.
“You know why,” he said, trying to regain his composure. “You’ve faced death, haven’t you? But you haven’t succumbed to it. You... you’re different. The high-ups... they’re curious. I’m curious.” He took a step closer, and this time, it wasn’t just about the soul. “I want to know why you can withstand it. Why you don’t die when you should.”
You didn’t look afraid. If anything, your eyes seemed almost… amused.
“Maybe I’m not meant to,” you said simply, taking a seat at your kitchen table and sipping your drink, casually uninterested in his presence. “Maybe I’ve seen things you can’t even begin to understand.”
Casper stood there for a moment, the realization dawning on him. He had always been the one in control, the one who made the rules. But now? It was clear. You were the one pulling the strings.
And it terrified him. Still, the obsession remained.
“I’m going to find out, whether you like it or not.” He vowed quietly, more to himself than to you.
You rolled your eyes at Casper’s words, his little declaration of trying to figure you out like you were some puzzle to be solved. Honestly, you had better things to do than entertain the idea of a grim reaper’s obsession.
Just as you were about to tell him to stop following you and to get out of your space, your phone rang.
It was another assistant you worked across from.
You sighed, already knowing this wasn’t going to be good news.
“Hey, quick heads up—I’m sick and won’t be able to make it to the event tonight. You’re going to my place for our boss. Dress nice, okay? You’ll be meeting with some big names—the ones that fund our department. They’ll expect a professional impression,” the assistant said, her voice a bit muffled from the cold she had.
You stared blankly at your phone for a few seconds after the call ended. Great. Just what you needed tonight. A high-profile event, and you’d have to step in at the last minute. Your peaceful evening, which had already been non-existent thanks to your favorite grim reaper stalking you, was now thoroughly ruined.
You sighed heavily, letting the irritation bubble up. You didn’t need the stress. You didn’t need Casper clinging to you, constantly breathing down your neck, following you from work to the grocery store, practically watching you while you tried to relax. It was like he thought he could wear you down and force you to acknowledge him.
Well, he wasn’t going to win that easily.
You turned to your bedroom and started walking toward it. The sound of Casper’s soft footsteps followed you like a shadow. “Can you just go?” You snapped, not bothering to look back at him. “I need to get dressed. Your presence is… annoying.”
His voice echoed behind you as you stepped into your room, already mentally prepping yourself for the headache that would be this event. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You shot him a look over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean ‘not going anywhere’?”
“I’m staying right here,” he said, his tone almost smug.
Of course, he would. He was as stubborn as a brick wall, and clearly had no intention of leaving you alone. But the idea of him lurking around your personal space? That crossed a line.
You had an idea—a rather ridiculous one, but hey, it would work.
“Fine, then.” You said with a sly grin, turning around as you walked toward your closet. “You stay then, Grimmy. But just… watch.”
Casper’s ethereal form hovered near the doorway, a little too close for comfort, but his interest piqued. “Watch what?”
You didn’t answer, instead focusing on finding the outfit you were going to wear. Casper stayed glued to the spot, curious as you began to undress, unaware of what you were about to do.
You removed your blouse first, feeling his presence lingering at the edge of your vision. The air felt thick with his silent attention. You casually let your shirt fall to the floor, then reached for the next item, your back turned toward him as you continued your task.
You could practically hear his ghostly breath hitch when you glanced back over your shoulder at him, a playful glint in your eyes.
“You like what you see, Grimmy?”
His body stiffened like he wasn’t sure how to react, but he didn’t move, still watching. His eyes, if you could even call them that, were practically burning holes into you.
You smirked, not bothering to hide your amusement as you casually slipped into the dress you’d chosen for the evening. “Don’t act so shy, Grim. I thought you liked souls.”
Casper’s reaction was almost comical, his form flickering as though struggling to maintain composure. “I’m not here for that!”
“Oh? Are you sure? Because I think you might be,” you teased, letting your hands linger over the fabric of the dress, turning slowly to face him. “You do know how to appreciate beauty, don’t you, Grimmy?”
Casper’s ghostly pale face had turned a noticeable shade of what could only be described as “flustered”—which was absurd. He was dead, for heaven’s sake. But there he was, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
Then, without another word, he vanished. Gone. Just like that. You blinked, a slight laugh escaping your lips. Well, that worked.
You finished getting dressed, the ridiculousness of it all sinking in. Somehow, you had managed to shake off Casper for the night by using his own discomfort against him. He’d been so caught off guard that he hadn’t known how to react. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, feeling a small sense of victory. This night was going to be yours, even if it had started in chaos.
You grabbed your phone and checked the time—just enough time to grab your purse and head out. At least for the evening, you could pretend that everything was normal, and that meant no ghosts, no interruptions.
The moment you stepped out of your loft, you slipped into the role you had mastered: the calm, composed assistant who could handle anything, even the most unexpected of crises.
Tonight was no different. Your boss had trusted you to step in for her at the event, which meant your ability to perform under pressure was being tested once again.
The venue was a grand, multi-story ballroom with vaulted ceilings and an ambiance that screamed wealth and prestige. Crystal chandeliers glimmered above, casting a warm glow over the sea of guests mingling below. You entered with a practiced grace, your heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors as you navigated through the crowd.
Your boss, the editor-in-chief of a well-known fashion magazine you worked at, maintains her usual level of poise. She greeted people, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, and making small talk while you stood beside her, quietly observing the whirlwind of conversation.
As her assistant, you were in charge of handling all the logistics, ensuring the guests were taken care of and that everything ran smoothly. That meant taking note of important names and contacts, managing schedules, and keeping an eye out for any potential hiccups.
Tonight, you were the one making sure everything stayed on track. You took your place near the entrance, casually keeping tabs on the crowd as your boss moved through the room, chatting with potential investors and key figures in the fashion industry.
Every so often, she would glance over at you for a quick update or a reminder about certain guests, and you would provide her with the information she needed, always two steps ahead.
You kept a mental checklist of the key players in the room: the head of the fashion department’s major sponsor, and the influencer known for setting trends in the digital world. Each person needed to be addressed properly, and each interaction carefully curated.
When your boss handed you a list of names to memorize last week, you took it without question, scanning over the details and committing them to memory. It was no longer a matter of whether you would succeed tonight; it was simply a question of how flawlessly you could execute everything. And you knew you’d do it with ease.
As the night wore on, you glided between conversations, keeping track of your boss’s needs, occasionally stepping in to provide information to the guests, and always maintaining that cool professionalism that made you stand out.
At some point, you were asked to retrieve some drinks for your boss.
You navigated the crowd without a second thought, moving efficiently between groups of people as you made your way to the back office. You could hear the hum of conversation as you passed, the occasional laugh, the clink of glasses, but you were focused.
You made your way to the bar, your mind still buzzing from the whirlwind of the evening, but something felt… off. The familiar weight of being watched had slipped away, and it was strange. Normally, the pull of a presence, some ghost or spirit trailing behind you, would have been so ingrained in your routine that you’d hardly notice it.
But tonight? It was like the feeling had vanished entirely.
It was unsettling. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. The eerie quiet made your thoughts drift back to your childhood—a time when seeing spirits was more of a curse than a gift. You remembered telling your parents about it, about the strange faces that would appear to you, whispering their names, hovering just out of sight.
And their response? A quick trip to a mental institution at a young age. "You're imagining things," they’d said. "It's just your mind playing tricks."
You had hated it.
Hated the way your parents treated your abilities as if they were a problem to be solved. And that hatred turned into bitterness. Ever since you’d learned to hide it—to pretend that you couldn’t see the spirits who followed you, pretending their whispers didn’t get under your skin.
You had learned to tune out the names that would sometimes float around the edges of your vision, names that would send a chill down your spine.
Death had always been a part of you, and you hated it. Hated how it was always there, how it clung to you like a shadow. You’d been forced into hiding your truth for years. And yet, here you were, working in fashion—a world so far removed from the grim reality of death that you could almost convince yourself that it didn’t exist.
But even this world was not free from its pull.
You looked around at the event, the glamour, the flashing lights, the elegant conversations, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly detached from it all. You loved fashion, no doubt about it. The creativity, the artistry—it had always been your escape. And even though the pay didn’t match your hard work, you had been content.
At least you thought you were.
But a part of you missed the thrill of the chase, the mystery—the way Casper had been, in his way, a strange, unwelcome source of entertainment.
Yeah, he was annoying as hell.
But if you were being honest, he had made things more… fun.
You took a deep breath, shook your head, and tried to push those thoughts out. You didn’t need to think about that little reaper. You just needed to focus on your life, and your dreams.
And then, as if the universe couldn’t let you have a moment’s peace, you turned the corner and ran smack into a man dressed entirely in black, with a red tie that mirrored the intensity of his eyes. His grip was firm as he caught you by the shoulders, steadying you as your balance faltered.
You blinked. You took a step back. No way.
There, standing in front of you, was none other than Casper—in human form?
His usual pale, translucent appearance was gone, replaced by a sharply dressed figure, his black suit crisp and immaculate. His red tie, sharp as his gaze, matched the color of his eyes—those eyes that gleamed with an unsettling amusement.
“Did you miss me?” he asked, his voice smooth and mocking as ever. The words slid off his tongue like a challenge, almost as if he were daring you to deny it.
You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to recover from the shock. “What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, your annoyance rising instantly. The shock was wearing off, but the frustration remained. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”
His grin widened, an almost smug look settling on his face as he tilted his head. “Well, I’ve been following you around long enough to realize something. You may not fear death, but there’s one thing I know for sure—you can’t escape it. So why bother running from me when you know it’s only a matter of time?”
You blinked again, incredulous. “Are you seriously trying to make a philosophical point right now?”
Casper shrugged, his hands still firmly on your shoulders as if anchoring you to this moment. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just here to remind you that I am the one who holds your fate.” His voice dropped slightly, a glint of something darker behind his words. “I don’t forget easily, you know.”
You felt the weight of his words settle in, but just as quickly, you pushed them aside. You were done with his games, done with the feeling that something or someone was always lurking. “If you're so hell-bent on being a problem, why don't you just leave me alone? I’m trying to have a normal night, for once.”
Casper raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features. “Normal? Now that’s a word I never thought I’d hear from you.”
You sighed in exasperation. “Look, I’m really not in the mood for this. I’m here for work. Not whatever you’re trying to pull.”
He didn’t let go of you, though, his grip still firm. “Fine, but remember—death has a way of creeping in when you least expect it. And I’m still here. Watching. Waiting.”
You rolled your eyes again, pushing past him this time. “Yeah, yeah. Just... stay out of my way, okay? I've got a job to do.”
Casper didn’t follow you immediately. Instead, he stood there, his eyes flicking to you as you walked away. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze on your back as you made your way to the bar, shaking off his presence as best you could.
You were tired of this—tired of him. But deep down, some strange, unsettling part of you knew he wouldn’t leave until he got what he wanted.
With a sigh, you returned to your boss with the drinks, trying to keep a calm exterior. You handed her the glass, and she gave you a knowing look, a small smile curving her lips. "How’s your night going?" she asked, clearly not expecting much but offering the polite conversation anyway.
"Fine," you said, trying to keep your voice light. "Just ready to head--"
"I didn't ask for your life story." Your boss cuts you off.
Right, still a mean bitch, you followed your boss gaze and shifted across the room, scanning the crowd like she was looking for something—someone. You followed her line of sight, and for the briefest moment, your heart sank in your chest.
It was him.
Casper.
He was moving through the crowd, his pale skin glowing under the lights and his white hair catching the spotlight, almost unnatural in its radiance. And those red wine-colored eyes, always gleaming with a mischievous, almost predatory look. Of course, it had to be him.
You could feel the pit in your stomach grow. What the hell did he want now?
Before you could process it, your boss turned to you with that knowing smile again. "Do you know him? He’s heading this way."
You blinked, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling settling in your chest. "I… I think I’ve seen him around," you said, trying to keep your composure. But what the hell was he doing here?
Casper approached, his eyes locking onto yours as if he’d found the perfect prey. He was still dressed in that tailored black suit with the red tie, the sharp contrast of his appearance only making his otherworldly presence that much more noticeable. He didn’t even look like he belonged here, but there he was, standing in front of you.
Your boss, always the social butterfly, didn’t miss a beat. She extended her hand toward him with a bright, professional smile. “Good evening. It’s lovely to meet you. You’re so handsome.”
You felt a knot tighten in your stomach. You didn’t want to look, didn’t want to pay attention to the way she so easily interacted with him, the way she was completely unaware of the chaos that had been following you around.
But you couldn’t look away.
Casper gave her a smile that was all teeth. “Thank you, t’s a pleasure my name is… well, Casper,” he said smoothly, his voice like honey, deep and smooth, with a hint of mystery lacing every word. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your pretty assistant.”
“Oh really?” Your boss mumbled before looking at you.
Your eyes darted away, feeling the weight of the conversation that was unfolding around you. You weren’t quite sure what was happening, but you couldn’t deny that this was the last thing you wanted. You just wanted to get through the night without him stealing the spotlight.
“Casper,” your boss repeated, impressed, glancing at you as if waiting for some sort of confirmation. “So… which agencies you work at?”
"Agencies…?" Casper questioned, a little lost.
Oh no. Of course. How did you not see it before? The polished look, the charm, the smoothness to his every move—it was all so damn calculated. In your boss eyes, this wasn’t just some random guy trailing you like a ghost.
Casper has model features.
His facial features are close to the famous model standing, no less. You can already imagine his face in the glossy magazines scattered around the fashion industry. The sleek white hair, those eyes like liquid wine… the boyish charm that made him almost impossible to ignore.
"Aren’t you a model?" Your boss asked.
Casper’s smile widened, "Oh no I am not a model, but I sometimes do simple shoots when Halloween comes around,” he answered, his voice dripping with that signature smugness.
Your boss’s eyes widened at his words. Impossible. Simple was an understatement. He definitely have the potential to become one of the it models, the ones with major campaigns and ad spreads.
"I see," your boss said, her eyes practically sparkling as she examined Casper. "Well, I'm sure you're used to all the attention by now, but I must say, you're quite a striking presence, Casper." Her words were laced with a polite admiration that made you want to roll your eyes, but you restrained yourself, knowing better than to interrupt.
Casper gave another smile that seemed to gleam with just a hint of amusement, the edges of his mouth curling like he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Your boss glanced over at the growing crowd, spotting a few more important figures she needed to greet. "Well, I’ll leave you two to chat," she said, offering a gracious smile before turning to walk off. "Enjoy your night, but—" She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper just for you.
"Give him our card. Get him on board as a main model for the department. If he says no..." She stares at you, looking at you up and down.
You knew that damn look, however still, your mouth almost opened to protest, to shake your head and tell her you weren’t about to turn Casper into some kind of marketing tool. But she was already walking away, leaving you standing there, feeling like a pawn in her strategic little game.
The words died on your tongue. Fuck.
And just like that, your night—your whole world, really—had shifted. The man who had been haunting your every move for months, who had lurked in the shadows, was now casually interacting with your boss like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And you? You were standing there, trying desperately to ignore the knot that had formed in your stomach, trying to pretend that you weren’t feeling the flicker of dread creeping up your spine.
Casper, of course, noticed. He always did. His gaze, sharp and calculating, met yours. It was like he could see right through you, dissecting the unease that you couldn’t hide.
His voice, soft and almost teasing, cut through the air. "Did you think I was just an average looking grim reaper?" he asked, that ever-present edge of amusement in his tone, the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You should've known better."
You couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that escaped you. You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "No, I didn’t think you were just an average looking grim reaper," you said flatly, your voice tinged with annoyance. "But I definitely didn’t expect you to fit fucking model capabilities, especially to my damn boss."
Casper laughed, the sound rich and deep like he was enjoying the frustration he’d caused. He leaned in just slightly, enough to invade your space, but not enough to make you flinch. "Well, life—or rather, the afterlife—has a funny way of surprising you, doesn’t it?"
You fought the urge to smirk or, worse, to smack him. It wasn’t that you were scared of him—not anymore—but there was something about the way he existed that made your skin crawl in all the wrong ways.
Everything about him was wrong in an almost alluring way—though you’d never dare admit it. He had become a constant, vexing presence in your life, and not even a career-defining event could grant you reprieve.
Worse still? You were already suspected you might never be free of him. Not after your boss all but sealed your fate—secure him, or lose everything.
Now, you were playing this so-called ‘game’ on his terms, with his one outrageous demand: your soul. Right… he wanted your soul. But you? You had your sights set on something far more valuable—
Him.
Like might as well, he’s the one haunting you almost every day following you everywhere like a ghost with unfinished business. He practically owes you because your boss now wants him as a model only adds to the complexity. You were caught between your duty to your job and your growing, almost morbid fascination with the very reaper who’d been plaguing your life.
It was almost insanely perfect, really. Like the gods curse you.
You had to work with him, which meant you'd get more time to study him, and more chances to draw him into your orbit.
“Casper,” you said one evening as the two of you now stood near the bar at the event, his eyes glinting with an almost predatory curiosity as he watched you. "You know, I’ve been thinking. You’d be perfect for this project. The department would love you."
He cocked his head, clearly intrigued. “I thought I was just a ghost to you.”
You smiled, a little too sweetly. “I never said you were just a ghost. I’m just... very interested in how you can be so tangible and untouchable at the same time.” You tilted your head, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve got an aura. An energy that’s... rare. And I know people in the fashion industry love rare.”
He blinked at you, still unsure of what you were getting at. “So, you want me to become a model?”
You nodded, “Yes. My boss is already interested, and she’s the one who handles all the big connections. If you want to make a name for yourself, this is your chance.”
Casper, for all his otherworldly knowledge, still couldn’t quite fathom how things worked in this world. He was too used to being the one who took, not gave. His eyes narrowed as if trying to gauge whether you were being honest or playing some game.
“You think I need your help to get noticed?” he asked, voice low and almost amused. But there was that glimmer of something—doubt, maybe?—flickering behind his gaze.
“Well,” you said, holding his gaze with unwavering confidence. “You can get noticed any company, sure. But this? This would be the perfect opportunity. I can guarantee you’ll get all the attention you want. And... you’ll get what you want, too.”
He seemed to weigh your words, his expression thoughtful. He hadn’t expected you to play into his desire for influence, for control. He hadn’t realized how much you were feeding into his need for validation—something he desperately craved but didn’t understand.
“All right, then,” he said after a moment, his tone almost too eager. “But you’ll have to promise me something in return.”
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”
His red eyes gleamed. “When done with this little ‘becoming a model’—you’ll give me your soul, right? After all, I’ll have given you what you need for your boss.” He smirked, clearly thinking he had you cornered.
You sighed, “We'll see,” you said, that familiar, dangerous smile of yours creeping onto your lips. “Maybe there’s something else you’ll want more than my soul.”
Casper blinked, clearly thrown by your words. “Like what…?”
You rolled your eyes, you were already moving on to the next part of your plan. In the back of your mind, you knew the final step was going to be the hardest, but seriously, this?
You had to work with Casper—the Casper.
Again, the one who’d been haunting you for months. The one who’d made your life a walking nightmare in every way possible. And now, thanks to your boss's questionable decision-making skills, you became his assistant.
Your job, as if the universe wasn’t already laughing in your face, was to make sure everything went perfectly for him—fix his hair, calm his ridiculously over-inflated ego, and handle all the tiny, soul-crushing details that kept his modeling career afloat. Because, of course, who better to trust with all that than someone who literally hates their life?
You could barely look at him without feeling the urge to strangle him—or worse, do something far more dangerous, like giving into the strange pull he had over you. From the moment you started working for him, your patience had been put through the wringer. It wasn’t just that he was difficult—no, that would’ve been manageable.
It was the way he acted like you owed him something, like catering to his every whim was just an unspoken part of your job description. His arrogance knew no bounds, and every time he had to interact with someone—whether it was the stylist, the makeup artist, or literally anyone else—he made sure they knew how much of an inconvenience they were. A scoff here, an eye roll there. Like the whole world was wasting his precious time.
But nothing got under your skin more than his insistence that you had to be the one to do everything for him.
Today was a vampire-themed shoot that should’ve been straightforward. The concept was classic—dark, brooding, seductive. And Casper?
He was practically made for it. With his porcelain skin, blood-red eyes, and stark white hair, he already looked like he stepped out of a gothic novel. Under the dim studio lighting, he was equally ethereal and unnerving—the perfect blend of beauty and danger.
But, of course, things couldn’t be that easy.
First, he flat-out refused to let anyone else touch him. No stylists, no makeup artists—no one. And why? Because of his Probability Reaper abilities. As if one misplaced brush stroke or a stray hairpin would suddenly send someone to an early grave.
So, naturally, he demanded you do everything.
“Come here, you,” he said, his voice deep, almost a growl as he fixed his gaze on you. “I need the blood on my lips. Don’t just stand there. I’m waiting.”
You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to tell him where he could shove his demands. You had work to do. "Fine," you muttered under your breath, moving toward him.
You could feel his eyes on you as you prepared the fake blood, the sticky red substance almost too realistic for comfort.
Your fingers brushed against his soft lips, and for a second, you almost forgot what you were doing. His eyes, as always, locked onto yours, and for a fleeting moment, you could see something in them—something dangerous.
A hunger.
It was the same pull. The same unsettling feeling that had haunted you since the day you first met him. But now, in such close proximity, with his breath mixing with yours, you couldn’t ignore it. His stare burned into your skin like a brand, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
You quickly finished the task, wiping your hands off with a towel, keeping your gaze away from him. The last thing you needed was to fall for whatever it was he was doing to you. You were already playing with fire. You didn't need to get burned.
Casper, however, was not deterred by your coolness. He leaned in, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You know," he said, his voice low and teasing, "there’s something about the way you touch me... something different. Why is that?"
You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was. His lips—still stained with fake blood—were just a few inches away from yours. The faintest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm just doing my job," you replied, trying to keep your tone steady.
But it didn’t work. His smile only grew, and for a second, you could see that strange glint in his eyes—the same one you had seen in his otherworldly stare when he first encountered you. The one that made you think he was far more dangerous than any of the spirits you’d dealt with in your life.
“Mm,” he hummed, the sound vibrating in his chest as he stepped even closer. His breath was warm against your face, his presence suffocating in a way that you couldn't ignore. "I don’t believe you."
You straightened, quickly distancing yourself. “Just finish the damn shoot, Casper. That’s all I’m here for.”
Before you could take another breath, he moved.
One second, you were standing firm, refusing to let him pull you in. The next? His hands gripped your waist, and with a smooth, effortless motion, he pulled you down onto his lap.
A startled gasp left your lips, but before you could protest, Casper’s arms settled around you—firm but unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. His crimson eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he looked up at you, his head tilted just slightly as if studying a particularly intriguing puzzle.
“You’re acting so different today,” he murmured, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “I can sense it. Why?”
You stiffened. Another question. The weight of his gaze pinned you in place, more binding than his actual hold on you. His grip wasn’t tight, wasn’t forceful—but it didn’t need to be. His presence alone was enough to escape feel pointless.
Your lips parted, but no words came. What could you even say? That you didn’t know why? That you didn’t want to know? That some part of you had already accepted whatever this was, even as you kept pretending to fight it?
Casper hummed, one hand lazily tracing patterns against your hip, his other resting at the small of your back. Not quite pulling you closer, not quite letting you go.
Just holding you there, perfectly trapped.
"You don’t even realize it, do you?" His voice was almost amused, but there was something beneath it—something dangerous, something interesting.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, instinct screaming at you to push him away.
You didn’t.
"I’m just here to do my job," you forced out, trying to sound firm, unaffected.
Casper’s smirk deepened, his head tilting even more like you’d just said something hilarious. "Job, huh?" His voice was silky smooth, laced with quiet mockery. "I think you’re much more than that, don’t you?"
Your heart pounded.
He was too close. Too steady. Too unbothered, like he had already figured something out that you hadn’t.
You grit your teeth, every fiber of your being screaming for control. You refused to let him drag you into this—to make you want whatever twisted game he was playing.
“Just finish your damn job, Casper,” you snapped, trying to shift your weight, to push away from him. But his hands—so annoyingly casual—didn’t let you move far.
“Am I stopping you?” he asked, all false innocence, all easy confidence. His grip didn’t tighten, didn’t turn forceful. But somehow, that made it worse.
"Yes," You glared at him.
His smirk only widened. And then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in—just enough that you could feel his breath ghosting over your skin. “We’ll see how long you can keep up that act,” he murmured, his voice like silk over a blade.
You wrenched yourself away, standing up fast, putting space between you two before you could do something reckless—something stupid. But as you turned, forcing yourself to focus, to shove this encounter into the back of your mind, one unsettling thought refused to leave you.
Who was really haunting who?
Turns out it can. As more news hits you like a slap to the face, leaving behind a sting of disbelief.
Apparently, Casper’s modeling career—something you still found utterly ridiculous—required both you and your boss to be flown out with him for a series of shoots in another city. You barely had time to process the logistics of it all before your boss, looking far too smug about this, handed you your flight details with a cheery “Try not to kill each other.”
As if that was even an option.
The moment you boarded the plane, fate decided to drive the knife deeper.
Your assigned seat? Right next to Casper.
You shot a glare at your boss as she strolled past, completely unaffected by your suffering. She met your glare with a saccharine smile and an enthusiastic thumbs-up before settling into her own seat several rows ahead.
Traitor.
Casper, of course, looked completely unbothered, the very picture of laziness as he slumped into his seat. One leg stretched out in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted back like he was already seconds from slipping into a nap. If not for the way his white hair fell perfectly into place, he could’ve been mistaken for some overworked businessman instead of a supernatural menace in designer clothing.
You exhaled through your nose, scowling as you sank into your seat and buckled your belt. The flight hadn’t even taken off yet, and you were already bracing yourself for hours of pure torture.
The first stretch of the flight was silent. Almost too silent.
You weren’t sure if that was better or worse than his usual taunting. Normally, Casper never shut up, always had some smug remark, some sharp-edged teasing that made your patience fray like an overused thread. But right now? Right now, he was quiet.
And that was unsettling in itself.
Halfway through the flight, when the hum of the plane had lulled most passengers into a light doze, Casper cracked one eye open and glanced at you.
“You’re tense, mortal.” His voice was a low murmur, just enough to cut through the ambient noise.
You clenched your jaw. “And you’re breathing in my direction. We all have problems.”
Casper smirked, a lazy, knowing thing, but—for once—he didn’t push.
The moment you landed, exhaustion settled deep into your bones. You were already dreading the next few days—watching Casper glide through his modeling shoots like he owned the damn world, dealing with your boss’s usual demands, and trying not to lose your mind in the process. But just as you thought you could catch a moment of peace, your boss hit you with yet another bombshell.
“You and Casper are sharing a hotel room.”
You blinked at her, your brain stuttering to a halt. “…Come again?”
She sighed, rubbing her temples like she was already so over this conversation before it had even started. “Look, the agency only booked so many rooms. You’ll have separate bedrooms, and there’s a bathroom in between. You’ll live.”
You wanted to argue. Oh, you wanted to scream that you had already spent far too much time being haunted by this insufferable bastard. That you didn’t want to be anywhere near him, let alone sleeping under the same damn roof.
Instead, you swallowed the frustration in your throat, forced yourself to inhale slowly through your nose, and settled for a tight, clipped: “Okay.”
Not like you had a choice.
The hotel was sleek and modern, all glass and polished stone, the kind of place that oozed luxury in a way that made you instantly wary. As the car pulled up to the front entrance, your boss was already rattling off instructions, barely sparing you or Casper a glance as she rifled through her phone.
“All right,” she said, stepping onto the curb with the efficiency of someone who had a million things to do and no time to waste. “You’re also in charge of keeping an eye on Casper.”
You stiffened, already knowing exactly where this was going. “Excuse me?”
She finally looked up at you, arching a brow. “I need him to be well-rested and not a menace before the shoot. That’s your job now. Make sure he’s taken care of, make sure he’s on time, and for the love of all that is holy, make sure he doesn’t get arrested or something.”
You opened your mouth to argue but immediately shut it when she held up a hand. “Nope. Don’t wanna hear it. I have a million things to handle, and I need you to be the responsible one.” She paused, then gave you a flat look. “Which, let’s be honest, is a low-effort achievement compared to him.”
Next to you, Casper hummed in amusement. “I feel like that was an insult.”
“It was,” she replied without missing a beat.
Casper didn’t seem the least bit offended. In fact, he looked downright pleased with himself. You fought the urge to rub your temples, already feeling the tension knotting in your skull.
“And,” your boss continued, ignoring Casper entirely, “I need you to set my schedule for tomorrow’s shoot. I want everything organized before I wake up. Call time, location details, wardrobe check—everything. Understood?”
You sighed, already resigning yourself to your fate. “Yeah. Got it.”
“Good.” She shoved a keycard into your hand before giving Casper a sharp look. “And you. Try not to be difficult.”
Casper smirked, tilting his head like he was considering it. “No promises.”
Your boss exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose before muttering something under her breath about ‘getting paid way too little for this’— even though she clearly gets paid enough—and stalking off toward the lobby.
Which left you and Casper standing at the curb, luggage in tow, facing the inevitable.
Casper turned to you, expression unreadable. “So. Roommates, huh?”
You exhaled slowly, staring up at the towering hotel before you. “Kill me.”
Casper’s voice rang out behind you, amusement clear in his tone. “You know you can’t actually be killed, right?”
You didn’t even turn around to respond, just kept walking toward the entrance.
“You’re really getting into this whole ‘mortal’ act,” he continued, his footsteps echoing behind you. “You’re not fooling anyone.”
You shot him a glance over your shoulder, your patience already running thin. “I swear, Casper, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to do something you won’t be able to come back from.”
He laughed, the sound of it too rich, too knowing. “That’s cute. But you forget—I’m already dead.”
“Lucky you,” you muttered, your tone dry.
You and Casper stood in front of the shared hotel room, the silence between you two heavier than usual. You pushed the door open, the creaking sound echoing louder than necessary in the hallway. It was a strange kind of awkward tension, made worse by the fact that, well, you were stuck with him.
You sank into the couch, trying to distance yourself from his relentless, spectral presence. The exhaustion of the day—of the flight, the absurdity of it all—was settling deep into your bones, but you couldn’t relax. Not with him there. Not with that constant, oppressive, ghostly aura hanging over you like a storm cloud.
And then, of course, he had to go and speak.
“I need a bath,” Casper said casually, as if you didn’t have better things to do than cater to him.
You looked at him like he had just asked you to conjure up a hot tub out of thin air. “What?” you said, disbelief curling in your voice.
He didn’t seem bothered by your reaction. His red eyes flickered with something approaching amusement, though it was tinged with that ever-present arrogance.
“Come on, mortal,” he said, that ghostly smirk creeping up on his face. “You’re my caretaker now. My personal attendant. Run me a bath.”
Your jaw tightened, and you just stared at him. No way. He’d lost his damn mind. What was this? Some twisted, afterlife spa day?
“You have got to be kidding me,” you muttered, your voice low with irritation. “What, you seriously expect me to run you a bath?” You shook your head, giving him a flat look. “I’m not about to sit here and wash the grime off a literal Grim Reaper.”
His gaze remained unwavering. “Do you... do you know who you're talking to right now?” he said, his voice dripping with an insufferable calmness. “I’m a reaper. You’re the mortal. That means you have to do these things.”
You felt your eye twitch in frustration. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, Grimmy,” you bit back. “You’re the one who’s been haunting me, stealing my soul, and generally making my life a living hell. And now you think I’m gonna be your personal attendant?” You scoffed, pushing yourself upright. “I’ve been through way too much dealing with you, and you want me to play your personal spa assistant? Not happening.”
Casper didn’t even flinch. If anything, he seemed completely unbothered, as if he was entitled to this. "You are the mortal here," he continued, unfazed. "It's your responsibility, like your boss said." He shot you that superior, ghostly smirk that was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.
Your patience? Gone. You stared at him, wide-eyed. "No. I'm really gonna need you to rethink that request, Grimmy," you said, your voice rising in irritation. "You're a reaper! You don’t need a bath! This isn’t some weird form of grim hygiene—what is this, an existential crisis?”
Casper didn’t look at you like you were crazy. In fact, he tilted his head slightly, his expression almost... annoyed. “Maybe it’s a reminder,” he murmured under his breath, as though he wasn’t entirely aware he was speaking out loud.
“A reminder: the more you drag on giving me your soul, the more problems I’ll cause for you.”
You blinked, processing his words for a moment. Was he actually being serious?
Ohhh that little shit…
“Well, I’m sorry, Casper,” you said, forcing a smile, “but this mortal is going to pass on the whole bath-running service.” You stood up, stretching, as if you were done with this conversation, mentally checking out. “You’re on your own for that one.”
Casper’s red eyes never left you, though his smirk faded just slightly, as if he couldn’t quite figure you out.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.
“Why do you fight me so much?” Casper’s voice cut through the silence, low and prying—way too calm for your liking. “Mortal women usually like me, fall over heels for me, but you don’t. It’s confusing.”
You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you buried your face deeper into the couch pillow, letting out a long, exhausted sigh, like maybe—just maybe—you could breathe out all the frustration clinging to you.
But of course, he wasn’t done. Casper had a way of getting all weird and philosophical when you least had the patience for it.
“I’ve been thinking about it, you know… taking your soul. At this point, is it even worth it?” He paused, then kept going. “I mean, I’ve spent months following you around, became your boss’s model just to stay close, watched you. And now I’m wondering—what does taking your soul actually do for me? Will it fix whatever this thing is that I’m feeling? Or am I just throwing myself into something I can’t undo?”
You didn’t even bother lifting your head. The pillow smelled like expensive hotel fabric—clean, crisp, and utterly unhelpful. You stared at it, brain a mess of exhaustion and irritation, before mumbling,
“I don’t know, Casper. I really don’t.”
For a while, there was only the quiet hum of the air conditioner, Casper’s weight in the room pressing down on you like a physical force. You could feel him standing there, his presence looming like a shadow—waiting for some kind of profound answer, something deep and insightful that could resolve this bizarre conversation he was having with himself.
But you weren’t in the mood for any of it. You were too tired to be dragged into his metaphysical crisis. Too tired to get lost in the strange dark depths of his soul-stealing philosophy.
“I don’t want to be part of your existential crisis,” you groaned into the pillow, the words muffled by fabric. “I’m just trying to survive my days here, man. The job. The constant stuff. You’re the last thing I need to get tangled up in right now.”
You could feel his eyes on you then. It was that burning sensation on your back, like lasers boring into your skin. You didn’t need to look up to know that he was watching you closely, trying to read into your words, trying to figure out if you were being sarcastic or if there was something deeper beneath the surface.
But honestly?
You couldn’t care less right now.
The mental exhaustion was starting to hit, and all you wanted was some peace. His gaze was intense, unwavering, but still, you refused to meet it, your eyes still locked on the pillow. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he processed your response, the gears of his mysterious, otherworldly mind working overtime to make sense of you.
“Well,” he finally said, breaking the silence, his voice softer this time, “maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just... looking for something I can't have." There was a strange tone in his voice, almost as if he was talking to himself as much as he was talking to you.
A little defeated, a little introspective.
Again, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you closed your eyes, hoping for sleep to come quickly, to shut out the weight of Casper’s presence and the endless swirl of thoughts he always left behind in his wake. Because no matter what he was trying to figure out about himself, you weren’t interested in being part of the puzzle.
And yet, deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder: what would he do if he actually figured himself out? Would he finally stop haunting you? Or would it just be another twist in this strange, never-ending game he was playing to claim your soul…?
You didn’t have the patience to unravel that mess. You had your own problems, after all. You were an adult—an assistant, no less. Work, deadlines, dealing with people who barely remembered your name, including your boss.
Your life had become a monotonous grind of early mornings and late nights, filled with coffee-fueled exhaustion and half-hearted pleasantries. You kept your head down, you smiled when necessary, and you pretended that everything was fine.
Your world had been mundane. Easy. Quiet. Predictable.
And now? You had a Grim Reaper hovering over your shoulder, stuck in some kind of self-inflicted moral dilemma about whether or not he should rip your soul from your body. Like some whiny, undead philosopher who thought way too hard about his own existence.
The absurdity of it all weighed on you, pressing down like a heavy blanket of fatigue. A whole-ass harbinger of death, a supernatural entity, was following you around like a lost puppy, struggling with his own version of a midlife crisis.
And somehow, somehow, you were the one stuck dealing with it.
It was ridiculous.
And then, out of nowhere, a song popped into your head—one that fit the mood a little too well.
All the people on the planet Working 9 to 5 just to stay alive How come?
The lyrics lingered in your mind, an unspoken anthem to the exhaustion of existence. Because wasn’t that all life was? A constant, never-ending loop of work and survival, of pretending everything was fine when it really, really wasn’t?
And now, even death itself was standing in your hotel room, trying to work through some kind of ghostly identity crisis. Without thinking, the words slipped out before you could stop them.
“What goes up, ghost around…” You blinked.
Oh. Oh, no.
Did you—did you just make a pun about Casper?
Your lips parted slightly as the realization sank in, horror slowly creeping up your spine. This was it. You had officially lost your mind. The universe had thrown a scythe-wielding, existentially confused Grim Reaper into your life, and instead of screaming or running away, you were making stupid puns.
You were so done. Done with the constant noise in your head, the pressure, the irritation of dealing with someone who thought he could just waltz into your life like some smug, otherworldly nuisance. You were exhausted—physically, mentally, spiritually—and if you had to put up with his antics for one more second, you were going to start throwing things.
Yeah. No. You needed a bath.
You slowly get up and head straight for the bathroom. Casper, ever the uninvited, followed right behind. “Where are we going?” he asked, like he had any right to be included in this plan.
You didn’t even bother looking back. “I am going to take a bath. You are going to sit your ass somewhere else and leave me alone.”
Predictably, he ignored the very clear boundary you just set. “Oh, perfect, I need a bath, too.”
You stopped in your tracks in the bathroom doorway, slowly turning to face him. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, hands in his pockets, head tilted just enough to be infuriating. “Casper,” you said, voice dangerously calm.
“Yes?”
“Get. Out.”
His smirk twitched. “Now, hold on, why—”
Before he could even think about arguing, you grabbed the nearest object—a rolled-up towel—and launched it at him. He barely dodged, laughing like this was the funniest thing in the world, but you weren’t in the mood. You shoved him back. He barely stumbled—damn grim reflexes—but before he could retaliate, you slammed the bathroom door in his face and locked it for good measure.
A satisfied exhale left your lips. Peace. Finally.
You turned toward the tub, already feeling the tension in your body start to loosen at the thought of just sinking into hot water and pretending the world—and annoying grim reapers didn’t exist. You twisted the faucet on, letting the steam rise as the tub filled, the sound of water rushing over the porcelain drowning out any lingering frustration.
Shedding the rest of your clothes, you stepped in, the heat instantly soothing every worn-out nerve in your body. You let yourself sink lower, eyes slipping shut, breathing in the faint scent of whatever overpriced bath soak you grabbed last time you were at the store.
For the first time in what felt like forever, you were alone. No reapers. No stress. No existential crises. Just you, the water, and—
Knock knock.
Your head snapped toward the door, eyes narrowing. “…You’re not drowning, right?” Casper’s muffled voice called from the other side. “Because that would be kinda ironic.”
You groaned, sliding lower into the water until it covered your ears. You were never going to be rid of him, were you? However, then silence on the other side of the door stretched on. Five minutes passed.
Casper had finally given up. Good.
You exhaled slowly, leaning your head back against the edge of the tub, your brows furrowing as the stress still lingered—coiled deep in your muscles, settled in the pit of your stomach like a weight that wouldn’t budge.
Maybe… just maybe.
The water cradled you, heavy with warmth, lapping lazily against your skin as you sank deeper into the tub. You felt the heat seeped into your muscles, loosening the tightness coiled between your shoulders, and you let out a slow breath, your arms sliding around yourself in a loose embrace.
Your arms slid around yourself, fingers dragging slowly over your collarbones, down your shoulders. Damn, you were tense. ‘Like, why-are-my-muscles-made-of-concrete tense.’ But the heat was working its magic, loosening things up one knot at a time. You pressed your thumbs into the tight spots, hissing a little at the ache before it melted into something softer.
You lingered there for a moment, pressing into the knots along your neck, kneading with slow, deliberate circles until the tension began to unravel, the water was perfect—hot enough to turn your skin red, but not so scalding that it hurt. You sank deeper, letting it wrap around you like a lazy hug, the steam rising in little curls.
Lavender, honey, whatever fancy shit was in this bath bomb—it smelled good, like one of those expensive spas you’d never actually pay to visit.
Legs propped up on the edge of the tub, you let one hand drift under the water, skimming over your stomach and your hips. The other lazily traced circles on your arm, catching droplets as they rolled down. Everything felt smoother in the water—your skin, your movements, even your thoughts, which were finally, finally shutting the hell up for once.
No grim reaper lurking like a weirdo. No stress tapping its fingers against your skull. Just you, the warmth, and the quiet slosh of water every time you shifted as one hand drifted down your arm, fingertips tracing the droplets clinging to your skin, while the other slipped beneath the surface, palm gliding over your stomach, lower, lower—until your fingers found the soft, slick heat between your thighs.
No rush. No urgency.
Just the slow, experimental drag of your touch, tracing idle circles over your clit, already swollen with anticipation. The water made everything smoother, your fingers gliding effortlessly as you teased yourself, testing pressure speed—each movement sending little shocks of pleasure radiating outward.
Your breath hitched, lips parting as you arched slightly, the water lapping at your ribs. The warmth of the bath only heightened the sensation, your skin hypersensitive, every brush of your fingertips electric. You let yourself explore—gentle at first, then firmer, your hips shifting just enough to chase the friction.
A sigh escaped you, head tipping back against the rim of the tub, eyes fluttering shut, and let out a long breath. Fuck, when was the last time you just… existed like this?
No overthinking, no distractions. Just your hands on your own skin, slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world.
You were so close to a stress-free moment—just you, the hot water, and your fingers working slow, teasing circles over your clit, already throbbing from the buildup. The bath made everything slick, and effortless, your touch gliding just right as you tested the pressure, the speed, biting your lip when a particularly good stroke sent a shiver up your spine.
Your breath hitched, hips lifting slightly, water sloshing as you arched two fingers inside you. Fuck, it felt good. The heat of the bath, the way your skin tingled, hypersensitive—every brush of your fingers sent little sparks racing through you. You let yourself get lost in it, touch growing firmer, more deliberate, chasing that sweet, mounting tension.
Then—of fucking course—your mouth betrayed you.
“Casper…” You moan. Fuck, Casper??
The absolute nerve of your subconscious to drag him into this. The guy who’d been stressing you out all damn day, and now here he was, lurking in the back of your mind like an uninvited guest. You groaned, half in frustration, half in reluctant amusement. Really? Now?
You tried to shake it off, fingers never stopping their rhythm, refusing to let him ruin this too. But the thought lingered, stubborn as hell, mixing with the pleasure in a way that was equal parts irritating and—okay, fine—kind of hot.
"Ugh, whatever," you muttered to no one, giving in just a little. If your brain wanted to play that game, fine. You’d let the frustration fuel you, turning the tension he’d caused into something better. Your strokes got sharper and needier, your free hand gripping the edge of the tub as you chased the release that had been just out of reach all day.
The way your body tensed and then melted beneath your touch, the steady rhythm of your fingers, deeper until your thighs trembled.
You took your time, dragging it out, letting the tension coil tighter with every deliberate stroke. Your breath hitched, coming faster now, lips parted as you sank deeper into the sensation. The warm water lapped at your skin, rippling with each subtle movement, muffling the quiet, needy sounds that slipped past your lips despite your best efforts.
And when it finally crashed over you—heat flooding through your limbs, pleasure cresting in slow, shuddering waves—you let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. Figures. Even in your own damn climax, he was still lingering in the back of your mind.
That asshole.
“What are you doing, Mortal?”
You practically launched out of the tub.
Water sloshed violently over the edge as you jerked upright, your entire body going rigid with shock. Your heart nearly exploded in your chest as you snapped your head toward the source of the voice—only to see Casper, standing there like some smug little shit, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted in curiosity.
Oh, hell no. How did he get in here??
“WHAT THE FUCK—” You scrambled to grab the nearest thing—your damn loofah—hurling it at his face with as much force as you could muster. Casper barely flinched, the soft thing bouncing off his cheek like a tragic attempt at an attack.
He blinked. “Was that supposed to hurt?”
“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN HERE!”
He looked genuinely confused. “But I live here.”
“But I’m in here,” you corrected, voice dripping with exasperation as you pulled your knees up to your chest, trying to salvage what little dignity you had left. “Big fucking difference.”
Casper’s gaze dragged down lazily, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. His lips parted slightly, his head tilting like he was putting together a puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out yet.
“I still don’t get it,” he admitted, his voice lower now. “I’ve seen mortals bathe before.”
“Oh my god—” You were going to die. Not from him taking your soul, not from some supernatural battle of wills—no, you were going to die from sheer secondhand embarrassment.
Casper took a slow step forward, and you held up a warning hand. “Do not come any closer.”
He stopped but didn’t look the least bit intimidated. In fact, he looked… intrigued. Like he was enjoying your frustration. Like he knew he had interrupted something and was now just here to be an absolute menace about it.
“You were making noises,” he pointed out, as if you weren’t already fully aware.
You clenched your jaw, your eye twitching. “I was relaxing.”
“Sounded more like suffering.”
“Oh my god...” You inhaled sharply through your nose, resisting the urge to drown yourself just to escape this absolute disaster of a moment. With all the strength of someone barely holding onto their last shred of sanity, you spoke through gritted teeth.
“Casper. I swear to whatever god you believe in if you don’t get out of my bathroom in the next three seconds—”
Casper grinned, taking one step backward—which was not fast enough for your liking. “Or what? You’ll come after me?”
Oh, you hated him.
Casper stood there, the grimmest of grim reapers, with his white hair like fallen ash and those red-wine eyes gleaming with amusement. He was a nightmare in the flesh, a creature that should have inspired fear—should have made you tremble at the very thought of his existence.
Instead, he was standing in the bathroom, casually crumbling what little patience you had left invading your private time, looking at you like you were the strange one.
You wanted to scream. Oh, you wanted to scream.
Maybe throw something. Maybe rip your own hair out. Or better yet, maybe grab him by that infuriatingly perfect collar and shove him straight into the tub, hold him under until all his smug little comments bubbled into silence.
But you didn’t.
Because that would mean ruining your carefully put-together appearance. And worse? It would mean hurting your boss’s prized model—the one person you absolutely could not afford to lay a hand on unless you wanted to kiss your job goodbye.
So instead, you forced yourself to breathe. Slow. Controlled. Fingers tightening around the porcelain edges of the tub like they were the only thing anchoring you to sanity. “Casper,” you said, your voice dipping into something low and dangerous, like a warning before a storm.
“Hm?” That lazy, infuriating hum, like he hadn’t just walked in on you at your most vulnerable.
“Get. Out.”
He tilted his head, looking genuinely—genuinely—confused. “Why?”
You clenched your jaw so hard it could’ve cracked. “Because I am naked and bathing, and you are not supposed to be here.”
He considered that for a long moment. Then, his lips curled into something devious. “Technically, I am supposed to be here. You and I made a deal. I’m supposed to be haunting you for your soul.”
“Then haunt me in literally any other room.”
Casper sighed, dramatic and slow, as if you were the one being unreasonable. “Fine,” he relented, but then—then—he smirked. That smirk, the one that made you want to smack him upside the head. “But just so you know, you really should be quieter. You don’t want your neighbors thinking you’re being murdered in here.”
Fuck this.
You were fuming, seething, gripping the edge of the tub like it was the only thing keeping you from losing your goddamn mind. Your eye twitched so violently that for a second, you swore the entire world flickered—as reality itself had short-circuited under the sheer weight of your frustration.
You had officially had enough.
With seething movements, you pushed yourself up from the bath, water cascading down your skin in slow, glistening trails.
You grabbed the nearest towel, wrapping it around your body without a second thought, the fabric clinging to your damp form as you stepped out of the tub. You barely noticed the chill of the air against your skin. You barely cared.
Casper must have sensed the shift in the air because the moment your foot hit the tile with a sharp, wet slap, his smirk faltered. For the first time since he had started haunting your every waking moment, he looked genuinely unsettled.
His red eyes flickered—uncertainty, hesitation, maybe even a hint of fear. Good. Because you weren’t playing anymore. Before he could get another word in, you were moving. He took a cautious step back, but it was already too late.
Like a force of nature, you stormed toward him, towel clutched tightly around your body, water still dripping from your hair. Casper did the only thing his undead brain could think of—he ran.
Straight out of the bathroom. Oh, hell no.
You chased after him, barreling through the doorway, barely even aware of the way the hallway light flickered as you passed under it.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" you growled, the anger burning in your veins hotter than any embarrassment over your current state.
Casper yelped—yelped—as he sprinted down the hall, his long coat billowing behind him in his panic. For someone who literally dealt with death, he sure as hell was scared for his life.
"Now, now, let’s be rational about this!" he called over his shoulder, trying to sound composed, but his voice cracked at the end. Oh, he was scared.
"Rational?!" you scoffed, lunging forward. "You have been tormenting me for months, Casper! Months! And now you wanna talk about being rational?! Oh, no—you don’t get to run from me now!"
You saw the exact moment he realized he was cornered.
Casper skidded to a halt at his bedroom door, scrambling to fling it open. But you were already there, shoving against it just as he tried to slam it in your face.
His eyes were wide, his expression somewhere between shock and sheer terror. “You—you’re unhinged!" he accused, voice going slightly high-pitched.
"You made me this way!" you snapped back, shoving your way inside. He stumbled backward, eyes widening at you before—bam.
Your body crashed into his, sending him stumbling backward onto the bed. You followed without hesitation, climbing over him, straddling his waist, and pinning him beneath you with a force that had him momentarily stunned.
His body was solid beneath yours, colder than you expected due to the whole undead grim reaper thing.
You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, his breathing steady but slightly uneven now, like he was processing what just happened.
For the first time, you saw something shift in his expression—not his usual smug amusement, not his lazy arrogance, but something else. Surprise and
Confusion.
His wine-red eyes flickered over your face, searching, calculating. “Well…” His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “I can’t say I saw this coming.”
You leaned in, your face just inches from his, close enough to see the way his lips parted slightly, how his throat bobbed with a slow, almost instinctive swallow. “Good,” you murmured, your voice low, dangerous. “Then maybe, for once, you’ll shut up and listen.”
Casper blinked up at you, the ghost of a smirk still lingering, but his silence—for once—was enough.
“I’m sick and over with you haunting me,” you yelled, dripping with something almost cruel in its amusement. “You think you can just waltz into my life, make my every moment miserable, and I’m supposed to sit back and let you have my soul?”
Casper wasn’t fully listening, like he could feel you—every inch of your body, barely covered by that frustratingly short towel, heat seeping through the thin fabric where it clung to your damp skin. It was a dangerous sight, teetering on the edge of revealing more than it should, and shit—why did a mortal have to be this pretty?
You tilted your head slightly, lips hovering just inches from his, teasing him with the ghost of a touch. “My soul isn’t for sale.”
His breath caught. His usual arrogance wavered, flickering into something less composed. For the first time, you had him unsure. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, and you could practically see the war raging behind them—frustration, fascination, something else he wouldn’t dare name.
“You make this so much harder than it needs to be,” he muttered, his voice laced with that same begrudging admiration, but there was something else, too—something red. His face, his ears, all betraying him as he took in the fire in your expression, the way you pressed against him, holding him down.
His breath hitched as you shifted, the pressure making his thoughts scatter.
“J-Just hand over your soul, and I-I’ll leave,” he stammered, but even he didn’t sound convinced anymore.
The stutter was so obvious; it was almost cute.
“No!” you shouted, your voice sharp with frustration, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The real problem? The unmistakable pressure beneath you. Shit. Right.
You already knew.
A slow, wicked smile curled on your lips as realization settled in.
“You reap what you sow, Casper,” you whispered, your voice nothing but a slow, taunting caress against his skin. You felt the way his entire body tensed, his throat bobbing, fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to grab you—to do something.
And then? He did move.
With a frustrated growl, he tried to shove you off, his hands gripping your hips, pushing at you in a way that was far too desperate, far too rigid. “G-Get off,” he snapped, his usual cocky arrogance cracking around the edges.
You didn’t budge. Instead, you pressed down just a little more, reveling in the way his breath hitched, the way his grip tightened just a little too much before he forced himself to let go.
“You’re really that eager to run now?” you murmured, tilting your head, watching the way his crimson eyes flickered between frustration and something he really didn’t want you to see.
“I’m not— I just—” His voice faltered, and that was enough to make you lean in closer, pressing your weight down just enough to make him shudder.
“You just what?” you teased, dragging the moment out, letting the heat between you thicken.
His fingers curled into fists, knuckles white. His lips parted, but whatever comeback he had died the second you moved against him, just barely, just enough to feel him really tense beneath you.
“Sh-Shut up,” he muttered, face turning a shade of red that had nothing to do with anger.
Oh, he was trying so hard to hold onto his composure. Trying so hard to shove you away without making it obvious why he needed you to move.
“And if you think I’m just going to hand over my soul…” You trailed off, letting the words dangle between you, thick with implication, like a loaded gun cocked and ready to fire.
Casper swallowed hard, his breath uneven, his self-control slipping—and for all the power he had, for all the ways he had haunted you, he was the one struggling now.
The tables had turned—now you wanted to see just how far you could push him. Because if he had spent all this time tormenting you, refusing to let you go…
Then surely, he must have realized by now—
You gonna haunted him right back.
You leaned down slowly, the space between you two shrinking, the anticipation thickening the air. Your breath mingled with his, a brief, almost electrifying moment before your lips finally met his in a kiss that was anything but gentle.
It wasn’t soft—there was nothing delicate about it.
Your lips pressed onto his with force, firm, almost demanding, as though you were claiming something that was yours to take. Casper’s body stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity, the possessiveness in your touch. You could feel his hesitation—his confusion. His breath hitched as you deepened the kiss, pressing yourself closer to him, your hand finding its way to his jaw, tilting his face to match the angle of yours.
His lips parted slightly under yours, and you took it as an invitation, pushing forward with more urgency, more need. His warmth was overwhelming, contrasting with the coldness of his existence.
You felt him start to respond, slowly at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. But the longer you kissed him, the more the tension between you snapped. He exhaled sharply, his fingers grazing the side of your neck as he finally gave in, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss.
The shift was subtle, but you could feel it—the way he started to lean into you, his chest pressing against yours, his movements no longer hesitant but eager, almost desperate.
It was a kiss that felt like something had broken between you two like a barrier had collapsed, and now there was only the fire between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that was unfamiliar, unexpected.
When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back just enough to catch your breath, but neither of you fully separated. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed for a beat too long before slowly opening, still hazy, still lost in the aftermath of it all.
You could feel his pulse under your fingertips, erratic, as if it wasn’t just his body reacting, but something deeper—something that couldn’t be ignored.
He didn’t say anything right away, the silence between you two heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. His voice, when it finally came, was low, almost a growl.
“W-Why did you do that…?” he asked, his words wrapped in uncertainty and desire as if he was finally understanding something about the mess between you two but still couldn’t quite make sense of it.
You didn’t answer.
Instead, your fingers lingered on his jaw, tracing the delicate curve of his face, feeling the soft, almost otherworldly smoothness of his skin under your touch. You watched him closely, the way his eyes fluttered shut as he tried to maintain his composure, his breath quickening the longer you stayed close.
But it wasn’t just about that anymore—it wasn’t just about the arrogant, cocky Grim Reaper who had been haunting your thoughts for months.
No, it was something far more complicated now.
You wanted him—all of him.
Slowly, deliberately, you shifted, moving your lips from his to the delicate skin of his neck, your breath warm against him as you kissed the soft spot just below his jaw. The moment your lips made contact with his skin, you felt him tense, his body reacting to your touch in ways that made your pulse quicken.
He let out a quiet gasp, his eyes snapping open as if he wasn’t expecting this. But you could feel it, the way his body betrayed him, how his pulse seemed to spike beneath your lips.
You couldn’t help but press closer, your lips moving along the smooth curve of his neck, slowly, teasingly. You felt him shiver under your touch, his breath hitching sharply. His skin was like silk, but it was warm, almost feverish beneath your lips.
You traced the delicate line of his throat with your mouth, paying attention to the places that made him tremble, the faintest of whimpers escaping him.
The deeper you kissed, the more you felt the tremor in his body, the way he couldn’t quite keep himself steady as your lips and teeth brushed against his sensitive skin.
And then, he couldn’t help it anymore—he let out a deep, strangled whine, a sound so raw, so desperate, it sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the usual sharp, cocky tone he had when he spoke to you—it was something entirely different. His body arched onto yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps as if he was both resisting and wanting at the same time.
“W-What... what are you trying to do with me, mortal?” His voice was thick, almost breathless, the usual arrogance and bravado completely absent now. There was no defiance, no demand for power in his tone. Just confusion.
You paused for a brief second, but you continued your movements, pressing your lips further down his neck, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the heat of his skin against yours.
He whimpered again, louder this time, and the sound made something inside you stir—a dark satisfaction, a rush of power. He was so vulnerable under your touch, so... alive in a way you hadn’t anticipated.
You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, but you kept your hand on his neck, feeling his pulse flutter under your fingertips. His eyes were wide, a mix of emotions swirling in them—confusion, want, fear. His breath was shallow, chest rising and falling erratically as if he wasn’t sure if he was even breathing properly anymore.
It wasn’t long before your kisses trailed down, slow and soft, your lips teasing a path along his now shirtless, impossibly pale chest. Damn, he really was ghostly white, but soft—way softer than someone who spent all their time being a cocky little shit should be. You couldn’t help yourself; you bit down lightly, just enough to make him jolt under you.
Casper let out this ridiculous, choked noise, half-whimper, half what the fuck was that?! and you grinned against his skin. Oh, this was going to be fun. “What—what are you—” he started, but you cut him off with another bite, right over his ribs this time. He actually squirmed beneath you, letting out the deepest whine you’d ever heard from him.
“Would you look at that,” you mused, pressing another kiss just below his collarbone, feeling his muscles tense under your lips. “The big, bad grim reaper’s ticklish.”
Casper’s eyes shot open, his whole face twisting between frustration and pure, unfiltered panic. “I am not—”
You kissed a little lower. He let out a soft gasp.
You snickered. “Ohhh, you so are.”
His hands twitched at his sides like he didn’t know if he should shove you away or pull you closer, and that alone made you even more entertained.
Casper was losing his goddamn mind. You knew it. He knew it. Hell, even the goddamn shadows in the room probably knew it. And you? Oh, you were thriving.
See, for months now, this insufferable bastard had been haunting you—literally and figuratively. He followed you everywhere like a bad omen, made your life a constant, unending hell, toyed with your sanity like it was his favorite pastime, and worst of all?
He had the audacity to be hot while doing it.
You were fed up. You were horny. And since he was always around, lurking in your damn shadow, you never had a single moment alone to deal with it. No time to take the edge off. No privacy to just breathe without him hovering like he owned the air around you.
And if he was going to keep haunting you relentlessly, refusing to let you have a single second of peace? Because of that, you’d make sure he felt what it was like to be relentlessly pursued—to be hunted the way he had hunted you.
And judging by the way he was struggling beneath you, red-faced, flustered, trying so damn hard to pretend he wasn’t affected?
Oh, he was feeling it all right as your lips pressed slow, lazy kisses along his stomach, dragging out every moment just to watch him squirm.
And oh, was he squirming.
His fingers clenched the sheets so hard you thought they might rip. His breath hitched every time you so much as existed near him. His legs were tense, thighs trembling slightly like his entire undead body was screaming at him to do something. But he couldn’t.
Not with you looking down at him like that. Not with that smug little glint in your eye, knowing full well the power you held over him right now.
“Are you—” His voice cracked so hard you nearly laughed in his face. He swallowed, trying to gather what was left of his composure. “Are you actually trying to kill me right now? Because—because this feels like some kind of cruel revenge plot.”
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Me? Oh, Casper… why would I ever do something so cruel?”
Another kiss. Another sharp inhale.
"You are,” he accused breathlessly, his crimson eyes burning into you. “You so are.”
You grinned. “Maybe I’m just trying to make you feel a little… haunted.”
His whole body shuddered. "That’s—That’s not funny."
“Oh, I think it’s hilarious.”
Casper groaned, tossing his head back against the pillow like he was physically suffering. “M-Mortal!” he sputtered, trying to sound authoritative but failing spectacularly.
“You can’t just—You—You can’t have my soul!”
Casper's breath hitched so hard you thought he might choke on it. His fingers curled tighter into the sheets, his entire body going stiff beneath you—frozen, like some helpless animal caught in the path of an oncoming storm.
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing as you watched him squirm. “What do you mean, Casper?”
Your fingers ghosted over the waistband of his pants, playing with the button, teasing but never quite undoing it. His whole body twitched at the contact, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“I-I mean…” he stammered, eyes darting anywhere but your face, ears tinged an adorable shade of pink. “My—My soul, mortal! That’s what I was talking about! Y-you can't have it! It's mine!”
You paused, blinking at him. And then it clicked.
Oh. Oh. Did he—? Had he been—? The realization hit you like a freight train, slamming full speed into your already frenzied brain. This whole time, when he'd been talking about souls, about taking yours, about you trying to take his… was he actually talking about—?
Honestly, you are a bit lost by his words… but you kept on the act! Your lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. “Oh, Casper…” you purred, pressing down just enough to make him gasp, your fingers still playing at his waistband.
“You’ve been talking about souls this whole time, and yet…” You sighed, “…it sounds like you’ve been asking for something else entirely.”
His entire body jerked like you’d just electrocuted him. “I—I—” His voice cracked so hard you almost felt bad. Almost.
You pulled back slightly, tilting your head at him with mock concern. “Are you sure you meant your soul, Casper? Because…”
Your fingers gave the button of his pants the tiniest little tug. “…from the way you’re acting, it really seems like you meant something else.”
Casper wiggles beneath you then let out a strangled noise somewhere between a whimper and an offended squawk.
“M-MORTAL! I—THAT’S NOT—YOU’RE TWISTING MY WORDS!”
You laughed, soft and velvety, reveling in the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers dug into the sheets like they were the only thing tethering him to reality. His crimson eyes were wide, frantic, darting across your face as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist.
"Am I?" you murmured, letting the words drip from your lips like honey—sweet, slow, dangerous.
“Yes!” he blurted, but his voice wavered, cracking at the edges, betraying him in the most delicious way.
You tilted your head, fingers trailing ever so lightly down his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His whole body was wound tight, like he was barely holding himself together. Like he didn’t trust himself to move.
“Then tell me,” you coaxed, your voice barely above a whisper, a soft, deliberate tease against the thick silence between you. “What is it, Casper?”
Nothing. No response. Just a tense, heavy pause. A second too long. A hesitation too thick.
And then—so quiet, so wrecked, like it had been dragged from the deepest part of him—
“…Because I think I want you as well, Mortal.”
Oh. Fuck. Like, deadass, that was kinda hot.
Your fingers stilled for just a second, then resumed their slow, torturous circles against his stomach, just barely skimming the skin. Featherlight. Just enough to tease. Just enough to torment.
“You don’t say,” you murmured, letting your nails graze lightly over his skin, watching the way his entire body twitched beneath you. “Such strong words, Casper.”
He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, his back pressing deeper into the mattress as if he could somehow disappear into it—like it could save him from whatever this was.
But nothing was saving him now. Not from you. shit from me.
Not as the towel around you slipped, the fabric pooling onto the bed like a ghost of hesitation you no longer had.
You could feel the tension coiled in his body, every muscle taut beneath your touch, strung tight between restraint and ruin. His skin burned under your fingertips, feverish, as if he were caught in some exquisite purgatory—unsure whether to arch into your mouth or wrench himself away before he shattered completely.
“W-where will it be?” His voice was raw, stripped down to something fractured and wanting, each word a ragged breath torn from his chest.
You smiled—slow, deliberate, cruel in its sweetness—letting your lips ghost over the frantic pulse at his throat.
“My tongue?” you murmured, the words dripping like honey, thick and syrupy with promise. You let them linger, let them sink into his skin, let him feel them. “Is that what you want, Casper? My wicked tongue on you?” His cock twitched against your lips, already glistening at the tip—pale, flushed, aching for you. You could see the pulse of his heartbeat in it, the way his entire body trembled with the effort of holding back.
A shudder wracked through him, violent and helpless. His fingers twisted in the sheets, white-knuckled, like a man clinging to the last fraying thread of his control.
You exhaled, slow and warm, just to watch him squirm.
Then—finally—you pressed a single, lingering kiss to the head, tasting the salt-slick precome beading there. His hips jerked, a choked gasp tearing from his throat, but you held him down with one firm hand on his stomach, fingers splayed possessively over his trembling abdomen.
"Stay still."
A command, not a request.
You took him into your mouth with agonizing slowness, letting your tongue swirl lazily around the crown before sinking deeper, inch by torturous inch. His breath hitched, his fingers knotting in your hair—not pushing, just clinging, as if you were the only thing keeping him from drowning.
You hollowed your cheeks, dragging your lips up in a slow, filthy glide before plunging back down, savoring the way his thighs tensed, the way his stomach quivered under your palm.
Every movement was deliberate, calculated to unravel him—the flick of your tongue along the underside, the teasing scrape of teeth, the way you pulled off just to watch him whimper before swallowing him down again.
His voice was shattered, raw with desperation. "F-fuck—please—"
You hummed around him, the vibration wringing a broken moan from his lips. His grip tightened in your hair, his hips lifting in tiny, involuntary thrusts, but you controlled the pace, keeping it slow, maddening, until every ragged breath he took was your name.
My god—how you loved this—loved the way he unraveled, the way his breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, the way his hips jerked instinctively toward your mouth, betraying him entirely.
You dragged your nails down the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, feather-light, just enough to make him jolt, to pull another broken sound from his lips. His entire body was a live wire, every nerve alight, every tremor yours to command.
When you finally felt him tense, his whole body bowing off the bed, you locked your eyes with his—holding his gaze as you took him deep, deeper, until his release spilled hot and bitter down your throat.
And even then, you didn’t let go.
You milked him through it, lips sealed tight until he was shaking, oversensitive, gasping your name like a prayer. Only then did you pull away, licking your lips with slow, deliberate satisfaction.
"Good little reaper."
The words dripped from your tongue like silk, and just as you watched the shiver roll through him, an idea slithered into your mind—dark, tempting, irresistible.
Your smirk widened. “Oh… wait,” you purred, voice teasing, wicked.
“Grimmy, I have a surprise for you.”
Casper swallowed hard, his crimson eyes flickering with something caught between intrigue and apprehension. His hands twitched where they gripped the sheets, like he couldn't decide if he should push you away or pull you closer.
You smirked, trailing your fingers lazily down his chest before slipping away entirely, stepping back just enough to let the anticipation thicken between you. Slowly, deliberately, you turned, making sure he caught the full, teasing sway of your movements as you sauntered over to your suitcase in the hallway.
His breathing was uneven. He was watching you, waiting, completely caught in your spell. "You've been keeping secrets from me, mortal?" he murmured, his voice rough, strained.
You glanced at him over your shoulder, fingers toying with the zipper of your bag. "Oh, I was saving this for myself," you admitted, drawing out each word like honey, "but now? I think I need it right now."
You unzipped the suitcase slowly—so slowly it was almost maddening. The faint rasp of the metal teeth parting filled the dimly lit room, a whisper of sound against the thick silence. Casper tensed.
His haunted lungs hitched.
"You know," you mused, lifting out the little package you had tucked away, letting the low lamp light catch on the edges, "if you're onto me, that means I'm onto you, too."
A confession. A threat. A promise.
Casper's grip on the sheets tightened. "What… What are you planning?"
You turned fully now, holding the item in your hands, watching as his eyes darkened, his throat bobbing with an anxious swallow.
And with a wicked smile, you took a slow step toward the bed.
"Why don’t you let me show you, little reaper?"
It wasn’t long before you watched him, the way his body betrays every flicker of need: the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the restless curl of his fingers into the sheets, the way his throat works as he swallows hard, waiting.
Your hands glide over him, slow and deliberate, fingertips tracing the dip of his spine, the curve of his hip, the softness of his inner thigh—just to hear his breath catch.
Then, with a quiet, knowing hum, you press against him from behind, your body flush against his, the heat of your skin searing through the space between you.
The weight of your body against his back makes him shudder, and you smile, dragging your lips along the slope of his shoulder.
"Shh," you murmur, voice honey-thick, "I’ve got you."
Your fingers trail down the trembling plane of his thighs, circling the base of his cock with a teasing, featherlight touch. He shudders beneath you, breath hitching—already so close to unraveling, and you’ve barely begun.
You reach for your toy, covered in your slick, warmed between your thighs before you guide it to him, pressing in with a slow, relentless push—just enough to make his back arch, just enough to pull a low, his back arching as choked gasp spills from his lips.
"There you go," you croon, your free hand stroking him in time with each shallow thrust, your grip just tight enough to make his hips jerk. "Such a good little reaper, haunting me, trying to steal my soul."
You click your tongue, amused. "But you’re the one who’s trapped now, aren’t you?" You pause, letting him feel every inch, letting him burn with it.
“P-please ugh!” His fingers claw at the sheets, knuckles white, and you lean down, catching his earlobe between your teeth before whispering, "Tell me, Casper—do wraiths beg?"
Then your fingers find his, threading through them, palm to palm, your grip tight enough to ground him, to remind him—you’re here, you’re his, even as you take him apart.
And then you move.
A slow, deep roll from your hands, the drag of the toy inside him deliberate, maddening. His breath comes in ragged bursts, his fingers tightening around yours like a lifeline.
You thrust deeper, your hand working him faster now, twisting just the way he likes, and his answer comes in a broken moan, his body tightening around the toy as pleasure coils hot and desperate in his gut.
"That’s it," you purr, your breath hot against his skin. "Let me see you come undone. Let me watch you forget you ever wanted to haunt anyone but me."
His hips stutter, his cock pulsing in your hand as he spills over your fingers with a ragged cry, his body clenching around the toy in helpless, shuddering waves.
"It’s where you and I be." You started
A confession. A threat. A promise.
Your free hand skates up his chest, mapping the flutter of his heartbeat, the hitch of his ribs as he gasps. You can feel the way his body clenches around the toy, the way he trembles beneath you, caught between surrender and desperate, clawing need.
“If I’m on to you…" you whisper, your breath hot against his skin, pulling back just enough to catch his gaze—God, those eyes—deep red and drowning, pupils blown, lashes fluttering like he’s already lost to the tide of you.
"...then you’re on to me." A sharp inhale. A fractured moan. His lips part, trembling—wordless, aching, yours.
Your pace shifts—still deep, still relentless, but rougher now, each thrust punching a ragged sound from his throat. His fingers cling to yours, his body arching into every movement, every stroke, every touch like he’s memorizing the feel of you.
And oh, the sounds he makes—soft whimpers, breathless pleas, the way his voice breaks when you angle just right—it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.
"Me... on to you." Your voice is a velvet snare, wrapping around him like smoke—dark, intoxicating, inescapable.
Casper arches beneath you, his body strung tight, every muscle trembling as you drive into him with slow, merciless precision. His fingers claw at the sheets, his breath coming in ragged, broken gasps.
"P-please—" he chokes out, his voice wrecked, desperate. "Let me—fuck, I need—"
You tighten your grip on his hips, nails biting into his skin just enough to make him whimper. "Need what?" you purr, dragging your lips along the shell of his ear. "Say it."
He shudders, his cock twitching against his stomach, already slick with pre-come. "Need to come," he rasps. "Please—please—"
You slow your thrusts to a torturous grind, savoring the way his body clenches around you, greedy and aching. “Aww, and what do I get?" you murmur, your breath hot against his throat.
His answer comes in a rush, raw and unguarded—
"My soul. My fucking—everything—just yours, only yours—"
Your hips stutter at that, just for a second. His soul? A reaper offering up the one thing he shouldn’t—couldn’t—give away. Your fingers slide up his chest, pressing over the frantic beat of his heart. "Careful," you warn, your voice rough. “…You don’t know what you’re asking for."
"I do," he gasps, writhing beneath you.
"I want it—want you to own me, ruin me, fucking keep me—just—ah!—promise you won’t take it. Promise you’ll leave it in me... so I can always be yours."
Your breath catches. Fuck.
"I'm on to you," you growl, sinking your teeth into his shoulder as you snap your hips forward, hard enough to punch a broken cry from his lips. "And you’re on to me."
Then you finally—finally—let him come.
His whole body seizes, back bowing off the bed as he spills over your fist with a shattered moan, his release hot and slick between your fingers. You don’t stop, fucking him through it, dragging out every last spasm until he’s sobbing, oversensitive and shaking.
When he’s limp beneath you, breathless and dazed, you lean down, lips brushing his ear. "Next time you try to steal my soul," you murmur, "make sure it's someone mine."
A weak, breathless laugh escapes him.
"Too late," he slurs, already half-gone. “I already have.”
You stare at him—really stare—before a slow, possessive smile curls into your mouth. “We’ll see…” you whisper, sealing the vow with a kiss pressed to his sweat-damp skin.
𝑒𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓌: heheheheheh 🤭
The next day, the studio was bathed in artificial light, soft flashes illuminating the minimalist set—a white backdrop, an expensive chaise, and the ever-irritated grim reaper standing awkwardly in the middle of it all. The entire team moved like clockwork around him, adjusting lights, fixing props, and directing him to pose.
But Casper?
Casper refused to sit down. Not once.
Not even when the photographer, sighed dramatically and gestured toward the antique chair, "All right, Casper, just take a seat and—"
"No."
The team collectively blinked. The photographer looked ready to throw his clipboard across the room.
“Casper, darling, please,” the director whined, exasperated, “I promise it won’t kill you—”
Casper shot the man a look so venomous that it could have rotted a bouquet of flowers on the spot. Still, he did not sit.
Instead, he remained standing, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, the weight never settling. Every so often, his fingers twitched, like he was debating if it was worth committing homicide in front of an audience.
And you?
You were having the time of your life.
It was everything you could do not to burst into laughter as you lounged off to the side, sipping on an overpriced iced tea like you weren’t the reason for his predicament. “Casper, oh my, are you okay?” your boss finally asked, tilting her head, eyes narrowing slightly at the his suspicious behavior.
Casper tensed. His glare flickered toward you, burning and accusing, as if daring you to say something.
You met his gaze head-on.
Then, with all the innocence of a saint, you shrugged.
“Beats me,” you mused, sipping your drink, barely holding back a smirk.
Casper's fingers twitched violently.
You were the reason he couldn’t sit. You.
The reason he stood like he had a permanent problem. The reason he looked like he was seriously reconsidering his entire existence.
Casper exhaled sharply, silently cursing your entire bloodline, before begrudgingly suffering through the rest of the shoot. By the time it wrapped up, he was the first to disappear, slipping away the moment the cameras stopped flashing.
You found him soon after, tucked away at the back of the dressing room. The space was lined with racks of designer clothes, mirrors catching glimpses of his reflection at every angle—but despite all that, your attention never wavered.
The only thing that mattered was him.
Casper sat near the vanity, arms crossed, eyes still smoldering from earlier.
You, on the other hand, were having fun. While the others took their break, you stayed behind, deciding it would be an excellent opportunity to mess with him further.
And somehow, that led to you dressing him for another shoot.
“Why am I letting you do this?” he grumbled as you straightened his collar, adjusting the fit of the sleek black suit you had thrown onto him.
“Because you have no choice,” you mused, hands lingering just a little longer than necessary, smoothing the fabric over his chest. “And because, deep down, you love it.”
Casper scoffed. “I loathe it.”
"Aww, you hurt because I fucked you with my dildo, right?" Your voice dripped with mock sympathy, babying him, laced with the kind of teasing cruelty that made his spine stiffen. You dragged a finger down the sweat-slick plane of his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. "Poor Grimmy. So ruined by me."
Casper’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into his clothing like he was trying to tear them apart. "Shut up," he growled, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him, a face fully red.
You laughed, low and wicked, "And here I though you loved it," you purred, relishing the way his body shuddered beneath you. "You fucking nutted everywhere... like some desperate little thing."
His reaction was instant—a sharp inhale, a flash of crimson in his darkened gaze as he twisted to glare at you.
"You said you wouldn’t say that out loud!”
"Did I?" You blinked, all false innocence, before grinning like the devil you were. "Oops."
His fingers twitched. Then again. Closer. Tighter. Oh?
You watched, amused, as his control frayed at the edges, his jaw clenched so tight you could almost hear his teeth grinding. For a second, you wondered if he’d actually do it—if those long, pale fingers would finally snap around your throat in retaliation.
And then—
He moved.
Casper had you pinned against the wall, his body caging you in, his eyes burning like hellfire. "This ends tonight," he snarled, gripping your chin hard enough to bruise, forcing your gaze up to his.
"I’m taking your soul, mortal."
You blinked. Then—you smiled.
"Oh, Grimmy..."
Before he could react, you struck.
A twist of your wrist, a shift of your weight, and suddenly he was the one pressed against the wall, your body flush against his, your knee sliding between his thighs just to hear the way his breath stuttered.
The dim light carved shadows across his face, highlighting the way his lips parted—in shock, in fury, in something far more dangerous. His chest rose and fell beneath your palm, his heartbeat a frantic, uneven rhythm against your fingertips.
You leaned in, close enough that your lips brushed his as you spoke.
"You can’t take my soul, Casper."
"Because I already took yours."
His breath stopped. For a single, suspended moment, the world held still. His crimson eyes widened, his body rigid against yours, his mind scrambling to process the words—to deny them. "You—" His voice was rough, raw, ruined.
You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him with a smirk.
"Shhh," you cooed, tilting your head like he was some misbehaving little pet. “I mean you gave it to me, willing in fact.”
He jerked his face away, his jaw clenched tight, but you didn’t miss the way his pulse jumped beneath your touch. "U-Uh I mean—Like, How?" he demanded, voice low, trembling with something between fury and fascination. "You're a mortal, a human—"
You tsked, tracing a slow, deliberate path down his throat, feeling the way his Adam’s apple bobbed under your fingertips.
"Now, now," you murmured, your smile all teeth. "A person like me never reveals their secrets."
His entire body shuddered, his control unraveling thread by thread, his fingers flexing like he didn’t know whether to push you away or drag you closer.
Fuck, he was beautiful like this.
The so-called Grim Reaper, known to be the terror of the underworld—reduced to this. To being yours.
You leaned in, your lips a breath away from his, your voice a whisper.
"You should be thanking me," you murmured, your hand sliding lower, teasing, taunting. "Not every reaper gets the privilege of being claimed."
His breath hitched, rough as a serrated edge. "Claimed—?"
"Mhm." Your lips brushed his jaw, slow, deliberate, savoring his pulse beneath your mouth. "The underworld gifted me something special..." Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his pants, smirking as his hips jerked, and his teeth gritted against a moan.
"A little grim reaper to keep all for myself."
And then—his control shattered.
With a snarl, he grabbed your wrists, slamming you back against the wall. His body pinned yours, every hard line of him a brand, a conquest, a promise. His eyes burned like hellfire, lips parted around ragged breaths, chest heaving with the weight of something feral, something hungry.
And then he kissed you.
His mouth crashed against yours, such as teeth and tongue, and desperate. You gasped, and he swallowed the sound like a sinner taking communion, his grip on your wrists tightening to the brink of pain.
There was like no gentleness here, no hesitation—like damnnn you really dragged out of him.
You laughed into his mouth, "I know if I'm haunting you…" You pulled back just enough to watch his lashes flutter, to see the way his lips chased yours, already addicted. Your breath mingled, hot, and shared, the space between you thick with the scent of sweat and sin.
And as his groan vibrated against your lips, as his hands slid from your wrists to your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. Then, with a smirk, you kissed him again—slow this time, deliberate, a velvet stroke of the tongue that had him shuddering...
"…You must be haunting me."
#a date with death#grim reaper x reader#casper x reader#a date with death x reader#two and a half studios#a date with death casper#a date with death grim#sub casper#bottom casper#casper x mc#casper adwd#a date with death vn#adwd
263 notes
·
View notes