Warnings: reader has a cock (otherwise no gender specified), (kinda) mean reader, top reader fucking bottom character, milking, breeding, orgasm denial, nipple play, sex toys, dacryphilia
One of your cows isn’t producing the minimum amount of milk required of him anymore… there seems to be some kind of problem?
Word count: ~2k
Running a farm sure is difficult. You had to wake up early everyday and get lots of physical work done. Not only that, you also had to care for all of your hybrid animals, each with their own individual needs and problems. You did hire employees to help lessen your workload, but there were still things only the owner can solve. Like today, having to deal with the mystery of one of your best cows producing results atypical of him.
“Ahhn— ahnnghh~ ♡ mmHghff, n-not so roughhhh..!! T-too much too g-guuud ♥︎♡” He mewled, nails digging into his own thighs as he whimpered around the stretch. His knees were raised up to his chest and your cock already bottomed out inside him, causing him to kick his legs futilely. It’s been so long since he last had someone else play around with him in the hay like this. Just the tip alone was enough to make his eyes roll back, his mind all fuzzy with pleasure.
Now with the entire thing inside, his couldn’t hold back his voice anymore, “ahh.. ah—ahNgh, ha,,uuhNnh~ b-big, so biiig ♡ so deep~ h-hurts~!!♡♥︎♡” At this rate, he could swear you were fucking his stomach, reaching places he only gets to experience with you. No matter what he moaned out, he couldn’t fool no one with that big, stupid grin plastered across his face. “You are kind of pissing me off.” For some reason, you felt like you were being played by him. “Spread yourself wider.”
He did as you said, using his hands to hold his legs apart, faint red lines appearing from where he gripped too hard. The hay below was digging into his back and getting into his hair, yet he didn’t care one bit. He couldn’t think of anything but you right now, not when his lovely, favourite farm owner was personally showering him with so much love! You don’t even know how long he’s been waiting to get manhandled by you again.
And fuck, he wasn’t just imagining it, he could totally see the belly bulge apparing and disappearing from his lower abdomen with each thrust. “mhhHffgg~ r-right there, ahhNn～ I-I’ll do anything, so pleassee!! Ha-harder, more, gimme all of it~♥︎” Someday, he was going to make you snap. “Don’t get cocky. I wouldn’t be here fucking your desperate self if you weren’t acting like some bitch in heat.” You snapped at him. That’s right, you were supposed to investigate his milking problem, but the upper half and not his lower, stupid half.
It’s not like you didn’t try solving it in a civil manner first. At first all you did was asking if anything happened or if he felt sick, while he was using the milking machine as per procedure. He replied no to each and every one of the questions, yet only produced a quarter of what he usually did, so it’s understandable that you got concerned.
“Maybe… it’s because of the machine?” That cow hybrid suggested upon your inquiry, gently pulling the pumps off of himself and holding his squishy tits with both hands. It was obvious that these got bigger over the course of the last few days. “Are you saying we should try hand milking?” You wondered, and he nodded quickly. You even felt like his eyes lit up for a split second. So you decided to give it a shot, since you did start off in the traditional way first and just recently adapted the more modern method.
You then quickly proceeded with the experiment and began tracing your fingers around his areola. After a few circles, you pinched his nubs softly with two fingers, trying out the flow. Nothing much happened apart from the low, breathy gasps coming from the male, which was why you began pulling and twisting a little. But once you started doing that, he just immediately moaned out, “aAaHnngg~♥︎♡♥︎ mMhnnh— uHhn,, huUhmff ♡”
After having his nipples sucked by the machine for so long, they were already super sensitive. Then to have his favourite caretaker the one he really really liked ♡ hand milking him again? Who could blame him for getting hard! By then he was already leaking precum onto the hay below. Your fingers were just so skilful, so much more intimate and warm than any device could ever hope to replicate. He just adored having your hands on him. “G-gentle… nghhHgg, l-love it~~ mhmm~! ♥︎”
He glanced down at the spot between his legs, a small puddle of precum already forming there. “I-I can’t help it…! It feels too good when you touch them.” Seeing that the wrong part of him was getting milked dry, you felt this realisation clicking inside, “did you suggest the hand milking just to get off? Don’t you know I have other things that needs to be done too?” The boy stayed quiet for a bit, before smiling sheepishly, noticing your hands were still on his nipples, “nnhhGahhh-ahnn!!♡♡ ha-haaa,, maybe…?”
Needless to say you were at your wits end with him, which is what got you into your current situation. With you holding his waist while slamming your hips against his, lewd squelching sounds echoing through the barn. “You know, this is how you get real cows to produce milk. By breeding them.” You whispered, his walls squeezing your length all snuggly. “Will it work for you too? Though I’m starting to think you were faking it all for attention.”
The way you stared down at him gave him chills. Oh how he loved it when you frowned at the sight of him, your eyes focused on him only. His words were slurred as he babbled with his tongue lolled out, “n-noo, no..!! M’wasnt, i r-really couldnt~ nGhhn ♥︎” look at that, he was thoroughly enjoying himself, wasn’t he?
“So, you are telling me you didn’t see this coming?” He didn’t answer, but his body revealed everything you needed to know. “Cheeky bastard.” You sighed and pulled out until only the tip remained inside, before slamming it all back in, making him curl his toes. “GuuUhhGnn~♡♥︎♡ ah-HnnGh—!!“ His moans turned into a whine when you abruptly grabbed him by the chin, “Since you’ve got so much time on your hands, fix that milking problem.”
“Yuu are sho… mhmm..!!! sho mean…!” He gasped out while you were still squeezing his cheeks. His hands finally released his now bruised thighs and landed on his nipples, his legs wrapping around your waist. The spot where he gripped them before has been decorated with a bunch of red nail-indents. “Ha-haaahh~ like this?” You did let go of him the moment he fulfilled your command.
Unsurprisingly, he kept smirking while he rolled his nips between his digits, licking his lips as his own sweet milk flowed down his wrists. The entire barn smelled of sex and warm, fresh milk. “hey… isn’t this suuuuch a-ahh~ waste?” He brought one of his soiled hand up to his mouth and sucked his own fingers clean, sticking his tongue out afterwards, “you want to make money with this, no? Heh… nghh ♡ So we shouldn’t waste it…!”
He was actually hoping for you to touch him yourself again, but to his dismay, you instead handed him the pumps of the milking machine, forcing him to reapply them to his own chest. “You think I’m that stupid? I won’t fall for the same trick twice.” You raised his hips up a little, getting a better angle before pounding into him even deeper, with surprisingly quicker thrusts. “AhNghhn ♥︎♡ d-don’t stop, ahhh so guuud, too good mghhnnff, m’love you, love this, right t-there ♡♡♡!”
You were hitting his sweet spots with the accuracy of someone who knows how to play his body like an instrument. The way you abused all his favourite places, rolling your hips with each rut into his sloppy hole…? It was simply heavenly ♥︎ his moans bounced off the thin wooden walls of the stable, echoing back at him, though he didn’t care at all. He was getting the privilege of being fucked by you, why would he be ashamed of that~?
Even the low humming of the milking machine was like music to his ears, the soft pressure of the suction pumps constantly stimulating his chest. His body was like on fire. Wherever you touched, heat would blossom beneath his skin. His vision was swimming, brain melting from the absolutely overwhelming ecstasy. It was to be expected that he’d sooner or later reach his limit.
“I’m close… ah~ I’m c-close, hnNhh, gunna cum, m’cummin’~♥︎♡!!— ah, n-nooo!” Right before he could shoot it all out, you wrapped your hand around his neglected cock and pressed your thumb into his slit firmly, denying him his much anticipated climax, “don’t you dare cum before I do. I’m not done breeding you yet.” “Wa— n-no…! L-lemme cum, I wanna— ah, ahNhhhgg, uHHhn!!!”
With that being said, poor thing was forced to endure the ruined orgasm and deal with the consequences of his actions. Shudders coursed through his spine as he cried out with each thrust, pleading so, so so so sweetly for his release. But you stayed firm the whole time, saying you were only going to let go of his now weeping cock once you’ve emptied your load inside him.
This time, you were going to fill him up until he learns how to behave. It didn’t stop him from trying his shot by begging even more submissively though. “P-please… cum already… b-breed me, fill me♥︎ hnNgh, like you said…!! I-I can’t anymore, m’wanna cum, ahh please~♡♡♥︎”
Gradually, you approached your own limit. He’s been getting really good at squeezing around you, shaking his own hips in a poor attempt to speed things up. You took a glance at the machine, then back at him. It seems your little ‘breeding therapy’ bared fruits, there was so much more milk coming out of his tits now. It was filling the tanks up all nicely. The same couldnt be said about his face though. With tears, sweat and snot running down his chin, his eyes glazed over and pleasure-ridden— even his pupils turned into little hearts♥︎!
One of his hands was just shy of grabbing your wrist, the other one clutching at anything within reach. His body was shaking heavily, his breath hitching audibly when you suddenly quickened your pace and mumbled, “fuck… I’m close.” Shortly after you also finally let go of his swollen dick. The shade was an angry red as it leaked precum everywhere, twitching with a mind of it’s own as he whimpered, “y-yes, yes…!, finally, ah- ahnGhh I-i’ve been wa- ah— waiting, gonna cummm ♥︎♡♥︎ f-fuck me harder, Nghh~ deeper, fill me up with your babies ♡♥︎♡”
Soon enough, both of you tipped over the edge. With you filling him to the brim, making his belly distend even more, and him making a mess everywhere. His head thrown back, eyes rolling until only the whites remained, thick ropes of cum coming out of his still jerking cock, splattering everywhere. “MhHmghhn~~ ♡♥︎” he bit down on his inner cheek, tasting the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he heaved heavily. Chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
You also took a moment to catch your breath, before pulling out of him with a quiet pop. The moment you left him empty and wanting, your cum began spilling from his entrance and dripped down his ass in an undeniably erotic display. His hole fluttered and clenched around nothing, small whines of residual bliss slipping past his lips from time to time. You couldnt help but chuckle at the debauched display, mocking him, “so that’s why you couldn’t produce any milk… it’s because you are such a slut that you need a dick to perform.”
After fixing yourself up until you were presentable again, you stuffed a plug vibrator inside him, to keep your seed trapped inside him. Then you turned it on to the max level alongside the pumping machine, since his breasts were carrying the milk from multiple weeks. This earned you a meek sob from the cow hybrid, but he was way too tired to even argue! All he could do was lay still while letting himself be milked like a good, obedient cow ♡
He still had so much more left until dry anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem to set the timer to a few hours, no?
The lovely devs over at @twoandahalfstudios were kind enough to send me the art of the outfit I got to design for Casper as a KS backer! It came out perfect, I'm so happy I got to support them.
I'm forever thankful I got to be a part of my favorite game (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)
If anyone ever draws fanart of him wearing this please feel free to tag me cause I'd love to see it <3
…𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜: In which your period cramps are giving you hell, but it’s okay, because a certain Grim Reaper is there to join you.
…𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Fluff; kind of hurt/comfort; silliness.
…𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Period cramps, swearing.
…𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑: 6,690 words.
…𝙰𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: AFAB!reader (not female); takes place on day eight of the DLC; spoilers for some in-game dialogue near the beginning of the fic.
Reblogs and comments are appreciated.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑.
You wake up to find yourself alive, morning sunlight streaming through the gaps in your shutters in a row of horizontal golden bars on the carpet. The thought crosses your mind that you should be dead by now—probably would be, had you not extended your bargain with Casper the night before.
Oh, Casper! Of course. You wonder whether he’s feeling any better now. As adorable as he is with a flushed nose and wrapped up in his pyjamas, you’d rather have him healthy than sick. You rise out of bed, yawning, and that’s when you feel it.
The waterfall.
“Oh, fuck,” you mutter. First a cold, and now this—you can’t catch a break, can you? With a frustrated sigh, you swiftly waddle over to the bathroom to inspect the damage. Thankfully, it’s not too bad, but that’s not your only problem. Your cramps tend to be the worst during the first few days, and lucky you, you just ran out of painkillers. You can already feel the accursed sensation beginning to build in your abdomen. It’s only an uncomfortable tingle at the moment, but you know well that this is but an omen of what is to come.
Whatever. You’ll survive. Hey, maybe it’s the universe’s way of making you appreciate being alive?
…Yeah, right. If that’s the case, maybe you would rather have had Casper take your soul last night. This sucks.
Well, not like you can do much about it. Worse things happen at sea, as they say. It’s about time you started getting ready; you’ve spent long enough in the bathroom. You slap on a pad, rush through your morning routine, and settle into the day-opening ritual which has now become habit: which is to say, texting Casper to fill the lonely void in your heart. You open the texting app and type,
Seeing as I’ve lived through the night, I’d say the cold didn’t snuff you out.
My big strong boy <3
Are you feeling any better?
Ah, damn…
I missed my chance to send you a ‘get well soon’ card and chocolates.
Next time, for sure.
A few moments later, his reply pops up on the screen. He’s changed his profile picture again: another selfie, this time with a red flower tucked in his hair. A little smile spreads across your face. He took your suggestion, then.
hello to you as well.
i’m ever so sorry to disappoint, but i have no intention on ever experiencing that again.
but, chocolates, hmm. curious.
that need not be limited to a time when i am sick.
Oh? That’s new. You add ‘Casper likes chocolate’ to your mental list of things you know about him, which is growing by the day.
A sweet tooth? Unexpected.
even i can admit that mortals have brought some excellent things into existence.
chocolate being one of them.
it is relatively high up the list.
much like the computer i use now, or cup noodles.
fantastic inventions.
The talk of chocolate flips some sort of switch in your brain, and you feel suddenly like a starved animal. God, you could commit some atrocities for a chocolate bar right now.
You know what, that’s fair.
I’m having a chocolate craving right now myself.
you also have a sweet tooth?
Not usually, no.
But it’s that time of the month again, so…
???
what time of the month?
the twentieth?
You smile to yourself.
Never mind.
okay…
so, as for your question…
did you spend your entire night worrying about me?
do i consume that much of your thoughts?
Sounds like you were thinking about me, buddy.
You’re sitting there, imagining me imagining you.
Do you like me that much?
…….…
i do not know what you are talking about.
You liiiike me.
Your conversation continues along a similar vein, with you teasing him mercilessly and him trying (and failing) not to fluster before returning to the topic of his recovery. He says he’s feeling better. That makes one of us, at least, you think drily. The pain is building steadily, and you’re having to shift in your chair to keep comfortable. Not that it’s working.
anyways. sunshine, what do you know about birthdays?
You blink. That’s certainly a change of topic.
Birthdays?
That is ‘the day of one’s birth’, Casper.
ah!
i forgot i was talking to the monarch of sarcasm.
I think we can both have that title.
if it is you, i suppose i do not mind sharing….
but, birthdays…
what kind of things do people do on the days of their birth?
live sacrifices?
feasts?
The first proper wave of pain hits you. You clench your teeth, the lower half of your body seizing up against the unfair assault. You type,
Fuck.
A few seconds of silence on Casper’s end. Then,
people WHAT??
Briefly, you’re puzzled by his reaction. Then you read back over your conversation and realise how he must have understood your text. You can’t help but cackle.
Oh. My bad.
I didn’t mean it like that, lmao.
I mean, some people do, of course. But not everyone.
Anyway ignore me lol
Why the question?
Do you have any plans to conduct human sacrifices?
Or… to do something else, perhaps…?
…
ahem. to answer your first question.
i was walking amongst the halls of my workplace last night…
While you were sick???
there is not enough time to worry about that.
i had to find out more. about our strange… connection.
the link beyond the one i created between us.
it was late. i happened to overhear some superiors talking quietly…
for context, i am of the 13th station, grim reaper number 8394.
…they said that…
those numbered 8100-8400 of the 13th station were created on this day, many decades ago.
Your mouth falls open.
You’re telling me…
TODAY IS YOUR BIRTHDAY??????
Cue a discussion about Casper’s preferred birthday activities, the fleeting nature of love, and a debate about whether or not imps would appreciate having a tail pinned into their backside. Just as you finish gaslighting him, a familiar notification flashes across your screen, taking you by surprise.
[Incoming call. Accept?]
Your mouse hovers over the two options, Yes and Yes. After some careful deliberation, you select the bottom option. You can’t help but think of that meme about the illusion of free choice—except here there isn’t even the illusion. It’s not as if you mind it, though.
Casper’s red-lit room fills your screen, along with the man himself, who is lounging as usual in his chair with his cheek resting on his hand. He’s back in his normal attire, with the hair clips and Azrael absent (to your dismay). Nevertheless, the sight of him makes you feel fuzzy inside, and for a moment you aren’t thinking about the cramps.
“Wow, way to call out of the blue!” you remark.
“I grow sick of typing, and I longed to see your face,” Casper replies, his tongue poking out from between his lips.
“Oh.” You feel your face warm. “That is… awfully honest of you, Grimmy.”
“I am always honest,” he says with an air of self-satisfied pride.
“No, you’re always truthful. Definitely not always honest,” you correct. “They're different things.”
He smiles. “You know me so well, Sunshine.”
You readjust your position in your own chair again to alleviate the discomfort. “Somehow. It really does feel like we’ve known each other forever.”
“Strangely, I feel the same way,” he remarks, raising his eyebrows. “Perhaps an aftereffect of our souls being linked.”
The conversation about birthdays is still lingering in your mind, and your thoughts wander to the flier you saw yesterday for that festival. “Hey, Casper?” you say. “Have you ever seen fireworks?”
“Fireworks?” Casper frowns. “I cannot say I have. They're usually used in celebrations. Not a lot of overlap with my line of work. Why?”
“I was just thinking that it’d be perfect for your birthday. It’s fleeting, it’s beautiful, it’s… human.”
“Huh… Then I would like to see these fireworks, sometime.”
You begin to reply, but before you can say anything, your abdomen gives another spasm and you fold over, pressing your forehead into your palm with a muttered, “Ugh, shit.”
Casper frowns, leaning forward in his chair. “Sunshine? What’s the matter?”
“I’m dying,” you croak out. It doesn’t feel like a lie.
“You—what?” Panic sounds in his voice. His eyes scan over you for a few seconds before his eyebrows pinch together sharply. “Wait. Surely that cannot be the case. Our souls are linked, so if you were truly dying, I would be dying as well, yet I am not.” He pauses. “But still, something is evidently causing you pain. What is it?”
Despite the discomfort, you manage to crack a smirk. Depending on how Casper replies to your next question, this might be so fun—and considering he didn’t know what you meant by ‘that time of the month’, your money is on the ‘fun’ option. “Say, Casper,” you begin, crooning out his name, “do you know what a period is?”
Casper gives you a dead stare through the screen. He looks both supremely unimpressed and supremely perplexed. “A period?” He scoffs. “What a daft question. Of course I know what that is. A period is a designated amount of time, such as a particular period in history. Although, I fail to see what this has to do with your current pain.”
You were hoping he would say something like this. A laugh slips forth from you at his confusion. “Oh, Grim, you really are too funny sometimes, you know.”
In response, he pouts and crosses his arms, as if trying to protect his integrity from your merciless teases. “What? You think my definition was unsatisfactory?”
“Well, not necessarily, but it’s not quite what I was getting at.”
“What are you getting at, then?”
“Do you know how babies are made?”
“Ba—!” He flushes, bright red. You snap a hasty screenshot before his expression can fade. Priceless. “Of course I know how mortal infants are… conceived. But why should that affect—” Just as quickly as the colour came to his face, it drains out completely, leaving his skin white as a sheet. (Admittedly, this is not much paler than usual.) “You do not mean to say that you are…” Casper can’t seem to stomach the words. At last he manages to squeeze out in a hoarse whisper, “...with child?”
You double over again—this time not from pain, but from laughter. Oh, my god, this is too good. You laugh so hard, in fact, that it makes the cramps worse, and you have to force yourself back into a state of composure lest your abdomen literally falls off onto the floor. Wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of your eye, you reply, “No. I am most definitely not with child.” This seems to relieve him somewhat. “But it is related.”
Casper pinches his brow and sighs. “Just explain what is going on, mortal.”
“Alright, alright.” You sigh out, long and slow, letting your face settle into a comfortable deadpan.
It’s time to educate the Grim Reaper on some biology.
“Well, basically, every month, most people with a uterus go through this cycle,” you explain. “It’s called the menstrual cycle, despite the majority of those who experience it not being men, but that’s what you get when the history of science has been dictated by old guys for the last few millenia. Anyway, you see, your uterus doesn’t have the intelligence to know when you’re actually planning to have a baby, if you plan on having one at all, so every month it spends time and effort building up a lovely little blood-nest for the egg to grow in once it’s released and fertilised. However, if you haven’t, let’s say, undergone the necessary procedures for fertilising an egg, your body gets the memo a little bit too late. So by the time you’ve made it clear that no, I am not birthing a creature this time around, it’s already prepared everything. Once your uterus realises its work was in vain, it all goes to waste and gets thrown out via the, ah, what would otherwise be the child’s exit.”
Casper looks mortified. Any cringe you may have suffered by phrasing your explanation in such a way is absolutely worth it. “And this occurs every month?” he asks, almost in a state of disbelief.
“Every month,” you confirm, very solemn.
“That sounds terrible.”
You grin maliciously. “Oh, and that’s not even the best bit. Because leaking out your insides each month obviously isn’t enough, Mother Nature, in all her kindness and generosity, sometimes gives you cramps while it happens as well. Which is how we arrive at my present situation.”
He considers this new information for a few seconds, no doubt to work through the trauma you have just given him, before he narrows his eyes. “...Surely there was a more straightforward way of getting to your point,” he says.
“Well, yeah.” You shrug. “But it’s very important that you know how periods work. There are too many men out there who are ignorant about this kind of thing.”
“I suppose that is true,” he concedes. “And I cannot be comparable to those other men.”
“Obviously not,” you agree.
“Are there any ways to stop it?”
“Well, that depends on what you mean,” you reply. “For stopping your periods altogether, not really. You can take contraceptive hormone tablets which prevent you from building up your endometrium, but once the bleeding has actually started, it’s too late for that. Painkillers are also an option, but…”
“But?” he prompts.
You raise your chin and proclaim with dignity, “Painkillers are for the weak.” (Yes, you do recognise that this is a counterproductive and baseless view to hold. No, that will not stop you from milking it for humour.)
Casper raises an eyebrow. “‘For the weak’?” he repeats, sounding sceptical.
“...And I’ve also run out,” you admit. “Anyway, then there are other things you can use for comfort, like hot water bottles, but…” You sigh, dropping your joking for a moment, and rub your eyes. You can feel a migraine starting to set in. “Honestly, I just can’t be bothered to get mine right now. Too much pain and too much effort.”
A look of hard determination settles onto Casper’s face. “I understand. Stay where you are, Sunshine, and do not go anywhere.”
And before you can say anything more, the call disconnects.
“As if I would be going anywhere right now anyway…” you mutter to the dark screen, though the grumbling contains no real bite. You have an inkling of what he’s planning to do—actually, no, who are you kidding. You know with ninety-nine percent certainty he’s on his way over to you right now, probably with a shopping trolley’s worth of ibuprofen in tow. It’s sweet of him. You don’t know how you can even begin to thank him.
You push the window open for Casper in advance, then lean back in your chair and scrunch your eyes shut, trying to tune out the cramps—but goddammit, it really hurts. It’s like needles are driving constantly into your midsection before your guts are wrung out like a wet towel. You shift position a few times in the hope of settling in a more comfortable position, to no avail. There’s no helping it when the problem is inside you.
A couple odd minutes go by in which nothing much happens, and you start wondering whether you jumped to your conclusion about Casper too soon. He’s already troubled himself once to come over and look after you, and that was only a couple of days ago. Twice might be pushing it.
Nope. Right on cue, you hear a knock on your window, and the Grim Reaper slides into your room. You have to swerve sideways so that he doesn’t barrel into you as he sails over your desk onto the floor. Somebody was in a hurry, then.
“Welcome, welcome,” you say as he picks himself back up and brushes off his shoulders. “As ever, feel free to remember that my door does in fact exist.”
He breezes right past you without acknowledging your quip. “Sit,” he says flatly.
“I am literally sitting right now.”
He rolls his eyes. “On your bed, mortal. It is more comfortable than your chair.”
“And you would know that how?”
You find yourself on the receiving end of a thoroughly unimpressed look. With a sigh, you throw your hands above your head in surrender and do as you are told, trudging across the room with the grave sufferance of a war veteran and settling yourself between the cushions on your bed. It is, admittedly, more comfortable than your chair.
“I have researched how to manage these cramps of yours,” Casper explains. “Painkillers do indeed seem to be the main suggested solution. I forgot to ask which are your preferred type, so I decided it was best to cover all bases.”
He passes a stream of little packaged boxes into your hands as he talks—ibuprofen, paracetamol, naproxen, tablets, capsules… even the orange-flavoured bottles of liquid your parents would give you as a kid. You end up with a little mountain on your lap of more painkillers than you would ever need.
“This is… a lot,” you say, picking your words with care, “but thank you for getting them.” He tried, which is what matters. You place the boxes aside except for one—a pack of ibuprofen tablets similar to the ones you usually use—and, along with a swig of water from the glass next to your bed, toss it down your throat. A thought occurs to you then, concerning Casper’s lack of human money and readiness to run away with an old lady’s flowers. You turn to look at him. “By the way, please tell me you paid for all these.”
Casper is silent. You face-palm.
“Oh, my god. One of these days you’re actually going to get caught.”
“Do not worry. I was very discrete.” He sounds pleased with himself. It is an improvement from last time, in a way.
“That’s not really what I’m worried about. Just…” You rub your temples. “Look, I’m very grateful for the painkillers, but please try not to steal anything else for me in the future, okay? Twice is more than enough.”
“So how shall I get things for you?” he questions.
“Well, I can lend you some cash in advance if you need to buy something,” you suggest.
“I have no need for mortal currency.”
“…You do realise that is precisely why we’re having this conversation?”
“Then let me rephrase,” he says with a huff. “If not for you and your strange needs, I would have no need for mortal currency.”
“I never said you had to get me painkillers,” you point out. “I’m very grateful for it, but that choice was ultimately on you.”
A look of helpless dismay crosses his face. “I cannot stand by and watch as you suffer.”
The moment he says this, the pain intensifies. You clench your eyes shut and mutter a curse beneath your breath. Sickness twists in your gut. In less than a blink Casper’s hand is on your shoulder and he’s peering across at you with concern swimming in the red pools of his eyes.
“I’m fine,” you protest, but your voice is strained.
“I don’t think I need to point out how obviously that is a lie.” His expression softens by a touch as you recover yourself a little, but his hand still lingers on your shoulder. This is when a pink, rotund entity nestled beneath Casper’s other arm catches your attention.
“You brought Azrael?”
“...I thought he may be of assistance to you,” he admits. A faint dusting of red settles over his cheeks. “Azrael also… ahem, does not enjoy seeing you suffer.”
“Aw. Tell him I say thanks.”
Casper nods, very seriously, and hands the axolotl plush over to you. You pull it—him—into your chest and bury your face in the soft fur. It smells like Casper, you can’t help but notice. Ever so slightly floral, with a hint of incense and myrrh. It’s… nice.
“Where is your hot water bottle?” His voice rouses your drifting mind and pulls you back into the present moment. “I will bring it to you.”
“It should be in one of the drawers in the hallway.” You nod your chin in the general direction. As he begins to walk over, you are struck with an epiphany. “Wait,” you blurt. “I have a better idea.” You pat the space directly beside you on the bed and put on a dazzling smile. “You could be my hot water bottle.”
Casper’s eyebrows pull together in an expression of pure affrontedness. “Me, your hot water bottle? What a ludicrous suggestion. I am a gri—”
“—grim reaper, not a hot water bottle, I know, I know, yada yada.” You fix him with the most pitiful, puppy-eyed look you can muster, pushing your lips into a pout. “Make an exception just this once? For me? Poor, little me?”
For a moment, Casper looks torn. Then his shoulders slump in surrender, and you hear him muttering something under his breath about ‘troublesome humans’ as he sidles up to you—not next to you, but behind you, so that his legs are on either side of your hips and your back is pulled flush against his torso. His arms snake around your waist to tug you a fraction closer, and he rests his hands—ungloved, you notice—on your front, roughly above the area of pain. Like last time, your skin buzzes at the contact, almost magnetic, as if it wants to be closer, closer, until there is nothing separating your souls from twining together for eternity.
…Thoughts of eternal soul-twining aside, you realise your mistake too late: you forgot how fricking cold Casper’s hands are. It makes no sense. The rest of him is warm, and very comforting, actually, but his hands may as well have just been pulled from an ice bucket. You shudder despite yourself when he lays them on top of you.
He begins, “Is something—”
“It’s nothing,” you hasten to reply. “It’s just… your hands are a bit colder than I expected.”
“Oh.” Casper rubs his hands together before placing them back on your abdomen. “Is that any better?”
No, it’s not better at all, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that. You really don’t want him to move away from you right now, either. You reason that maybe physically things haven’t changed, but emotionally speaking, seeing the lengths he’s going to for your sake… “Yes, much better. Thanks, Grim.”
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, at which you can’t help but chuckle.
“Alright, then, Steve.”
You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back as he heaves a sigh. That’s one victory for you.
You close your eyes and lean back into his embrace. The position is comfortable, but you can’t relax as much as you would like to: the subzero temperatures of his hands are too great to ignore. You try to shift as little as possible, not wanting him to realise that anything is wrong, but you can’t stop yourself. In fact, you’re pretty sure this is actually making the pain worse.
After a few minutes, you hear Casper sigh again. “Clearly, Sunshine, you are not comfortable. My hands are still too cold, aren’t they?”
“No,” you lie slowly.
“I can feel you shivering.”
“Okay, maybe a little,” you concede. “It’s possible I’m still a bit sick, too.”
“You should have told me earlier.”
“I wasn’t lying when I said it felt better. Just… that wasn’t necessarily physically.”
He clicks his tongue. “You and your mortal word games. Wait here. I will get you an actual hot water bottle.” He lifts his arms from around you and you are struck at once by how much you don’t want him to go.
“Wait,” you’ve said, before you know what you’re doing.
He hesitates. “Yes?
…But you also really want that hot water bottle. What a palaver. With deep regret, you suppose it is probably best to sacrifice his presence for a few moments and acquire the bottle, and resume cuddling afterwards. That doesn’t mean you are too keen on it, though. “Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “Just… don’t be too long, okay?”
A stupidly smug smirk crosses his stupidly beautiful face. “Afraid you will miss me so quickly, are you, Sunshine?”
You sigh. “Something like that, I suppose. Don’t let it get to your head.”
Too late. Judging by his facial expression, it has most certainly got to his head, right down to the very atomic structure of his neurones. He’s such a poophead sometimes.
Casper leans over and presses a brief, tender kiss to your brow. “I will be swift,” he vows, a red flush settling over his cheeks as he turns his face away. With butterflies in your ribcage, you watch him go.
The few minutes that he’s away seem to drag on forever. You cuddle Azrael as you wait, rocking back and forth on your mattress. This whole situation is still surreal to you, even after a week. The Grim Reaper—the literal Grim Reaper—is in your house for a second time, coddling you for a second time. If you had a nickel for every time you were coddled by the Grim Reaper, you would have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. And awesome as hell. This definitely wins you bragging rights over, like, every other human out there.
After what feels like hours but was probably no longer than a couple minutes, Casper returns with your fuzzy green triceratops hot water bottle in hand.
“A dinosaur?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Well, yeah,” you grumble, “I was obsessed with dinosaurs as a kid. Everyone goes through that phase. And you’re hardly one to talk, Mr Pink Axolotl.” You pat Azrael’s head. “Which is not to insult Azrael, of course. He is immaculate and beautiful.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. But what does that mean you are implying about me…?”
You shrug. “No comment.” Casper shakes his head, sighing, and hands the hot water bottle to you. “Thanks,” you say, pressing it against your midsection. The warmth radiates right through you and you can’t help but sigh out in satisfaction. Casper stands beside the bed, looking a little awkward as it becomes overwhelmingly apparent that his previous efforts were useless. Noticing his hovering, you smile and wave him over. “I have my physical comfort, and now I need my emotional one. C’mere.” With a mischievous wriggle of your fingers, you add, “I’m not done tormenting you yet.”
“That much was obvious,” he responds, shifting back into place behind you on the bed.
“How so?”
“You are always tormenting me. There is no end to it.” The weariness in his voice is at odds with the way his arms come around your sides to cradle you close.
You frown. “Damn. If I’m that predictable already, I’m going to have to up my game.”
“Please, for both of our sakes, do not.” You can’t help but chuckle at how pained he sounds. “I shudder to think what that would look like.”
As you talk, Casper sets his hands lightly upon your waist. His hands are still cold, of course, but now that you have the hot water bottle to balance things out more, it’s not too bad. You assume he’s just going to hold you—which in itself would be more than enough to satisfy you—but after a moment, you feel his fingers begin to press circles into your skin. He must notice the way you suck in a breath, because he clears his throat and says, “I read multiple sources that said massages can help with cramps. Is this…?”
“Okay?” You relax into his touch, smiling to yourself, and say quietly, “Yeah. It’s perfect.”
Casper smirks. “Obviously. I am the one doing it, after all.”
Oh my god, you think, I am in love with a complete idiot.
“Oh. Wait,” he says. “I almost forgot that I brought this for you, too.” He pulls one arm away from you to reach into his pocket and draws out a little heart-shaped item wrapped in shiny metal foil. One whiff and you know what it is.
Your heart melts at the sight. “Casper… You’re spoiling me way too much here.”
“There is no need to be so dramatic about it,” he replies as he hands it to you. “It is just chocolate.”
“Even so. You really didn’t have to go to such lengths.” You lift it to your mouth and are about to unwrap it when a thought strikes you, making you hesitate. You lower the chocolate heart and turn to Casper. “Hey, you said you like chocolate, too. How about we share it?”
This suggestion appears to catch him off-guard. “Share it?”
“Yeah, share it. I’ll take one bite, you take another.”
“I…” He flushes again, deeper this time, his mouth open and closing soundlessly and his eyes darting from your hand to the floor.
You weren’t expecting quite as much buffering as this when you made the suggestion. “…You don’t want to?” you ask, a tad disappointed. “I mean, we don’t have to, of course. I just thought it might be fun.”
“N-no!” he hastens to reply. “No, I… ahem. I would like to, very much. It’s just that…” Casper stares at the chocolate in your hand, his expression torn. Warily, he asks, “Your ‘period’ is not… contagious, is it?”
You’re stunned into silence. Casper stares at you with evident concern. You collapse into another bout of laughter. “No,” you wheeze out. “No, it’s not. Or it shouldn’t be, at least. Who knows, given our soul connection. In any case, you won’t catch it from eating the chocolate.”
He still looks hesitant—no doubt his little joust with a cold yesterday was enough to traumatise him for life—but your reply is reassuring enough for him to assent. “Very well,” he says, still blushing from head to toe. “We can share it.”
“Great. Who’s feeding who?”
Maybe you were wrong about him blushing head-to-toe, because somehow, if possible, he becomes an even deeper shade of red. “F-feeding?” he all but chokes out.
“Well, yeah. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t enjoy that.”
“…I could not say so even if I wanted to. That would be a lie.” He looks physically pained as he speaks. He is way too cute.
“Exactly. So, once again, who feeds who?”
Silence.
“You want me to feed you, don’t you?” you say knowingly.
“Actually, I was going to…” He clears his throat, eyes darting away. “...Propose the opposite…”
You can’t help the smile which spreads across your face. “You’re so sweet. But I kind of want to feed you, too. Especially because it’s your birthday and all that.”
“We can feed each other?” he suggests.
You shrug. “Sounds good to me. Open up, Grimmy.”
This seems to shock him. “I’m going first?”
“Well, unless you have any reservations…?”
For the briefest of moments, he seems to hesitate, before he draws up his shoulders and steels himself. Against what, you don’t know. “No. Nevermind. I will do it. Bring it on, mortal.”
The look of determination in his eyes is too funny, and you chuckle as you unwrap the chocolate heart and raise it to Casper’s mouth. His resolve crumbles the moment your little finger brushes by accident against his lower lip. His gaze darts wildly around the room, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin as he takes a tentative bite. With some degree of effort, he swallows, raising his fist in front of his mouth as if that were enough to hide the vibrant colour of his skin.
“Not so bad, is it?” you tease.
“It was terrible,” he replies quietly.
“Oh. Really?”
“Yes,” he insists. “Having you so close… I cannot function properly. You do things to me that are… ugh, I cannot even think, much less speak like this.”
Ah, so that’s what he meant. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you grin. “Alright, my turn.”
You pass the remaining half of the chocolate to him. He pinches it carefully between his thumb and index finger, like he is handling some priceless artefact. You wait with a patient smile as he brings it to your lips and pushes it gently between them. The rich, sweet flavour floods your taste buds, but all you can think of is his proximity and the coolness of his fingertips brushing against your lips as you take what’s left of the chocolate into your mouth. Your throat at once grows dry and you struggle to get the bite down.
So, you fell for exactly the same things that he did. How embarrassing.
A victorious smirk flashes across Casper’s face. “Heh. And you act as though you are less prone to flustering than I.”
“Well, I am, most of the time,” you protest. “It’s just that… well, it’s kind of like we’re kissing.” At the mention of k-word, his cheeks flare red. A realisation dawns upon you. “Wait. That’s why you wanted to go first, isn’t it?”
“...Shut up.”
“Hahaha. Okay, as you wish.”
You sit in silence for a while, content to bask in each other’s wordless presence. Thanks to Casper’s various efforts, your cramps are becoming somewhat manageable, and the warmth of his body against your back and feeling of his arms around you brings you a sense of comfort you cannot put into words. It feels like home—like belonging. Like a safe, secret hiding hole from the world where you could bury yourself if you wished. For a moment you wonder whether you’ve ever been happier.
Casper’s hair tickles your shoulder as he leans forward and nestles his face in the crook of your neck, close enough that you can feel his lips just barely brushing your skin. Your heart gives a dangerous stutter and heat, not from the water bottle, rushes through you. You expect him to tease you over your reaction—there’s no way he hasn’t noticed your pulse skyrocket—but Casper does not remark on it. Instead, it is a moment until he speaks.
“I wish,” he says, slowly, carefully, as if voicing a prayer, “that I could take away your pain. It is not fair. You do not deserve to suffer.”
The simplicity of the statement, spoken with such straightforward sincerity, gives you pause. Warm, tender fondness buds inside you for this reaper’s kind heart and, in some ways, his pitiable naivety. “Lots of people don’t deserve to suffer,” you reply in a small voice, “but it happens anyway. It’s just a part of life.”
“It should not be.”
“Maybe not.” You twine your fingers together in front of you and give his hands a light squeeze. “But it is.”
He squeezes back and presses his nose into the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Having him so close… you almost can’t believe it.
“Thank you for coming over, Casper,” you say after a pause, putting your heart into every word. “You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it. So, so much—especially considering it’s your birthday and there are definitely better ways of spending it. The cramps still hurt like hell, of course, but having you around makes it more bearable somehow.”
His voice is quiet, words muffled slightly against your skin. “I would always come. For you.”
The fondness from before blossoms and opens up inside you; a flower unfurling its petals, a fuzzy warmth pooling in your stomach. Words well on the tip of your tongue, but you keep them there. There is no need for speech. Not with him. Somehow, you are certain Casper already knows everything you would say and more; because that’s how it is when two people understand each other.
You understand each other. The notion is consoling; it’s right, somehow. Despite it only being a week since you met—something you are still struggling to wrap your head around—it feels true as you think it. Life is so bizarre in the way that you can spend your whole life surrounded by people and never truly know them, and then one day somebody walks in out of the blue and sees right into the heart of you.
The silence stretches onwards, enveloping you both in its arms of unspoken reassurance. You could stay like this forever and be perfectly happy. Casper, too, appears to have no intention of moving: he seems content just holding you and pressing the occasional kiss to your nape. You’re struck with the sense that time has ground to a standstill, and that all that matters (or ever has or ever will) is the present moment and the gentle tug of your souls towards one another, railing against separation. It doesn’t feel like so far of a stretch to suppose that, right now, you and him are the only two souls in the world. Oh, and Azrael, of course. Everything else—the pain, the future, responsibilities, the human race—is a pretty illusion trying to distract you from this fact.
Your wandering mind falls back into place when your roaming eyes rest on the clock hanging above your door. It’s been—two hours?
You take it upon yourself to disturb the quiet. “I hate to be the one to say this, but you probably have to go at some point, don’t you?” Your own voice sounds foreign to you; intrusive, like it shouldn’t be there. “Surely you have reaper work to do.”
“Well, yes, I do,” Casper confesses, “but if you want me here, I can stay.”
“You know what my answer will be, Casper.”
“Do I?” Given the audible smirk in his voice, he absolutely does. He just wants to hear it from you, the smug bastard.
Still, you decide you’ve caused him enough trouble for a day or two, and so choose to humour him just this once. “I always want you here,” you reply honestly. “But I also don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”
“It doesn’t count as trouble if it is for your sake.” He says it with such simple conviction. “Technically, considering my main assignment is still to collect your soul, I am in the process of completing it.”
You place a hand over your heart in mock offence. “Wow. That’s cold. Even colder than your hands, in fact. And here I thought you came because you cared about me, Cas.”
He scowls. “Of course I came here for you. You know that.”
“Yep, I do.” You smile. “I was teasing you.”
Casper clicks his tongue. “You are so incorrigible sometimes.”
“I think you’ll find that I’m incorrigible all of the time, actually,” you rectify, “but you love it, don’t you?”
“...I will not answer that.”
“I’m afraid you already have.”
“I literally have not.”
“In avoiding the question, you literally have.”
“That is quite literally not what ‘literally’ means, sunshine. Do you need me to pull out a dictionary, too?”
“If you’re offering to read it to me, I won’t say no,” you reply with a mischievous wink. “But anyway, I think you just don’t want to admit it.”
There’s a note of amusement in his response. “Admit what?”
“That you secretly love all of my personality traits with all of your soft, sappy heart.”
You can’t see Casper’s face, but you hear the fond smile leaking into his voice. “There is no secret in it, Sunshine. But yes, I do.”
With that, you soak up the last few precious moments of peace, before—
“Oh, shit.”
“...Casper? All good?”
“This sudden pain… w-what…”
“Ah. You know, I was starting to think that you might not get them, because no uterus and all that, but, uh… at least we’re not short on painkillers?”
“Sunshine… I truly think I am dying here. How can anything be worse than a cold? How?”
You shrug. “Sorry. Welcome to that time of the month, Cas.”
. Word Count — 1.4k
. Warnings — Horrific humor
. Contents — Grim exploding, relentless teasing (from you), Reader is a menace, Grim is a pathetic loser/j, no he's just really in love, fluff, comedy, mundane life, sorta crackfic, Reader is gender neutral
Prologue — Ever thought about annoying a Grim Reaper? It's Casper teasing o'clock!
The morning sun kissed your skin, announcing the new day.
You would've felt at peace...
If it wasn't for the man lying on top of you like a dead weight.
The Grim Reaper, Grim, Grimmy... Casper.
He had been crashing at your house for a while now. Well, not really crashing, more like staying... living there.
How did you end up like that? No idea. Or maybe yes.
His skin was cold, smooth. You felt it as you ran your fingertips up and down his bare back. After a few strokes he grunted in your shoulder.
”Morning," you whispered.
Casper jerked his head upwards, red eyes meeting yours.
"Hi Mortal," he mumbled, plopping on you once again.
"Mortal? Dude, what? You're still calling me that?”
"What should I call you then?" his arms wrapped around your chest.
A clock inside you went off, signaling it was "Casper teasing time”.
It was a weekly occurrence, sometimes daily... but who even counted?
He deserved it.
All that messing around with your soul had to be excused.
"You could call me ‘my love’," you combed his hair, "or ‘my pookie’.”
At that Grim stiffened and slowly raised to sit next to you.
”A what now?" His eyebrows furrowed.
"Pookie," you smiled.
"What is a pookie?" He stared at you.
"How do you not know what a pookie is..." you mocked him.
You exactly knew why.
"Is this a human thing?" He frowned.
It was a social media thing, actually a Shrek reference, but he couldn't know that... ancient soul.
"It's actually an ogre thing!" You flicked his forehead, he yelped.
"You're spitting out nonsense."
You smiled at him, kindly.
"What now?" He idly twirled his hair.
"Nothing in particular," you sat up on the mattress as well, pecking Casper's cheek before jumping out of bed.
"Hey! You—" his cheeks heated in embarrassment.
He was cute, extremely so.
The morning went on normally, in a casual way.
You were getting used to Grim's presence in your apartment, it was calming, in a way.
He was busy preparing breakfast, some time ago he had claimed that:
"I have to show you how better I am at cooking and baking!”
Arrogant much…
You tip-toed towards him, resting your side against the counter you knocked on it a few times.
"Knock-knock," he threw you a confused look.
"Huh?"
"What do you mean huh... knock-knock Casper." You stared at him, he didn't move an inch.
You facepalmed, giggled and cleared your voice.
"What do you say when someone knocks at your door?”
"Leave me alone." He frowned, you blinked.
Was he saying that to you or was that what he said to anyone who tried to disturb him?
"I tell them to leave me alone, I don't want to be bothered..." he had an innocent look despite the cold words.
"What do you tell them?" He fixed his gaze on the pan again.
"I ask who's there," you watched him nod.
"So... knock-knock?”
"Who's there?”
"Eyesore," you smiled.
"Who the hell is Eyesore?”
"Eyesore love you a lot!”
He froze, slowly fixing his eyes towards you.
"What was that," he was staring at your soul.
"Normal conversation," you reached for him, wrapping your arms around his waist.
"Ah!" He jolted, gripping the pan tight. "If you're trying to get something from me just say it Sunshine," he chuckled, clearly flustered.
You buried your face in his back. "Did it hurt? When you fell from Heaven?"
You squeezed his lower back, he groaned in exasperation.
"I'm not even from Heaven! You dumbass!" He tried to whack you with the wooden spoon he was using.
"Get out of m— your— OUR kitchen!" He commanded you out, threatening to chase you if you didn't, (and steal your soul but, you were used to that at this point).
You were scrolling on your phone while waiting for Casper to finish cooking. You saw him trot out of the kitchen happily, two plates in hand.
“Here," a plate of freshly made crêpes was served to you.
They looked good, you were positively surprised.
"Thank you Grim," you reached for his face with your hand and pinched his cheek.
He sat across you, your pet was at his feet, looking up.
"I can't, it's not healthy for you..." he reached down to boop their head, then looked at you once again.
"You became less snobby huh?”
"Snob— excuse me?”
"With your whole ‘I Am The Grim Reaper I Will Harvest Your Soul, Bend Down!’ thing you know," you smirked, he pouted.
"It was your fault.”
"My beauty blinded you! Oh my goodness!"
You dramatically leaned back in your chair, the white haired man blushed.
"You're extremely infuriating this morning." His eye twitched.
He knew what you were doing, sadly he wasn't modern enough to get everything you said.
Between idle chatting and eating you finished your plates.
Looking at your companion, you noticed that his lips were smeared with sugar.
Oh yeah.
"Caspy you have..." you got up, circling the table and bending down at eye-level.
"Mh?" He glanced around puzzled.
Cradling his chin with your hand, your fingers brushed his lips.
“Mortal."
"Grimmy," you whispered while sliding one of your fingers across his soft skin, cleaning the sugar.
He let out a short scream.
"Stop you're gonna kill me!" he panicked watching you lick your fingers clean.
”You're still alive tho.”
“You—“
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger!"
That was horribly cliché of you.
Heavens above…
You gave Casper a break from late morning to late afternoon while you were at work, it was one of those days where your presence was needed.
There wasn't a minute that Grim passed without thinking about all the irritating attentions you gave him in the morning.
"Your owner is a hell-spawn."
He complained about you to your pet, who shifted between paying him no mind to somehow listening.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid." He clapped his cheeks with his hands a few times.
"I hate having to wait for you Sunshine," he mumbled, staring at the window... evening was nearing.
You were walking home, and like someone else you couldn't stop thinking about who was waiting for your return.
Walking past a pizza place you decided to reward the God of Death that was in your apartment by buying him dinner.
"Honey I'm home!" You announced your arrival, slamming the front door happily.
"What did you just call me?!" Casper raised from the couch, completely red.
"Honey," you repeated.
"Don't call me that it's cor—" you shut him up by shoving the pizza boxes in his hands.
"Let's eat, my dear babygirl, I am STARVING,” you winked, Grim exploded.
You decided to spoil yourselves by eating on the couch in front of a tv show.
"What do you wanna watch Grimmy?" You nudged the remote towards him.
"I'm fine with anything, it's not common for me to watch... stuff."
He frowned at the ground.
Typical.
"Are you beyond human shows?" You raised an eyebrow.
"Absolutely,” he nodded while you snorted.
You both settled for a comedy, which was actually fun for once.
Casper couldn't get most of the jokes, that alone was extremely funny.
"Say my dear Grim, do you ever feel sigma?"
"WHAT." He choked on a string of mozzarella.
"Yeah like, you're so skibidi, I'd want you in my bed all day..." you tapped your chin.
”But of course I'd buy you dinner first, oh wait! I just did…” your eyes landed straight on the white-head beside you, he was fuming.
You could almost feel the warmth from your spot.
"You're gonna be the death of me," the man covered his face.
You shuffled closer, your hands finding his and sliding them off his face, he was staring at you.
"Cutie," you smiled and gently kissed him on the nose, then his lips.
Casper stiffened for a brief second before softening all around you.
"Sunshine, I—" you shushed him with your fingers.
"Silence is worth one thousand words," you said dramatically, pretending to wipe away fake tears.
"I truly can't understand you human," he moved away your finger from his mouth, you giggled and pecked his cheek.
"Also, I just KNOW that in another universe we're two ladybugs dancing," you clapped your hands and Casper couldn't contain himself anymore.
"SUNSHINE WHAT?!"
This is a repost! Thank you for reading this short piece, hope you enjoyed!
This fanfiction was requested! ★
English isn't my first language sorry for tiny errors T_T
Drunk! Ashveil, whose movements are sluggish, all his usual smooth moves now turned heavy, uncoordinated. When you lean in for a kiss, his brain short-circuits, and suddenly, you feel his tongue swiping across your face... He doesn't know what he's doing. If you boop his nose, he'll try to chase after your finger with his teeth, and you can't help but laugh at how silly he is.
Drunk! Ashveil, who loves other people's personal space, resting his head on your shoulder, or your lap, or on top of yours, his hands wrapping around your body as he pulls you close to him. Slipping his prosthetic hand underneath your shirt and making you jump from the cold sensation of metal claws against your skin.
Drunk! Ashveil, who lets out the most pathetic little whines when you tease him about his state, a blush spreading on his cheeks as he buries his face into your neck, trying to retain some shred of dignity.
Drunk! Ashveil, who forgets things or gets them mixed up, moaning about how he missed you all day. He'll cry about how you left him alone or whatever (you didn't; he went out for a case, and you wished him a nice day and all). No matter what you do or say, it's not getting through to his intoxicated mind.
"I didn't see you all day..."
"Ashveil, you literally kissed me goodbye at the door."
"Don't remember that. You should kiss me now to make up for it"
Drunk! Ashveil, whose lips find your skin while you sit in his lap, lazily pressing kisses against your neck. He's just kinda fidgeting with his mouth along his darling's skin, occasionally nibbling at the tender flesh, when he suddenly hears a scream and sees that he's left a big, fat bite mark there.
Drunk! Ashveil, who's getting shoved into the freezer by you and Mr. N so he can sober up. You can hear his sad, drunk little whimpers as he apologizes for biting you, pleading for you to let him out, promising that he'll be a good boy for you. You know that it's a trap: as soon as you open that door, powerful arms will coil around your waist and drag you into the freezing pit, pressing you against a ravenous beast hungry for his pretty love.
Comforting them after a long day! (ft. Sunday, Moze, Phainon)
(should i make a reverse comfort one too..) no TW! Comfort, fluff
Even those who look nearly invincible need some form of rest, especially after a weary day. But luckily, you’re there for them, right?
🪽 Sunday (Astral Express)
Sunday would say he handled stress pretty well compared to the average person. He was the former head of the Oak Family after all, and with it came no shortage of duties and burdens. In fact, sometimes not being busy felt wrong with how packed his schedule usually is.
That, except such a busy life was long behind him now. Endless flowing paperwork, unending meetings, and the need to keep an eye on anything and everything was a familiar kind of stress. Somehow managing to get thoroughly slimed out every time he steps outside of the express was a different kind of stress. A life threatening one, he would dare say.
And poor, poor Sunday got caught in the crossfire of a fight again today. He looked utterly disheveled (which he hated) right now as he sat in front of you. Logically, he should probably suck it up- whats done is done, and those people throwing hands with reckless abandon didnt know any better. He did. He must be the bigger person.
That’s exactly what he did before he met you. Now, he finds himself gravitating towards you, seeking your warmth and comfort when he’s had a rough day. Your doors were always open for him, you had said, and he’s eternally grateful.
You were currently smoothing over his ruffled feathers gently, not knowing wether you should laugh or cry at the man in front of you. You felt bad, you really did, but his conflicted expression was also pretty funny.
“I dont understand.” He began softly.
You hummed, moving onto the next wing once the first was fixed. “Dont understand what, Sunny?”
“Why they fight.” He sighs, sounding tired. “Was it not a mere squabble? If so, how did it escalate into..” He cuts himself off.
His old self would have found certain delight in how easy it would be to provoke those strangers, to gently guide them onto the ‘right path’ by toying with their fury. Now, how he wished for peace and quiet.
“Dunno. But you cant expect everyone to be mature like you.” You replied, pinching his cheeks playfully.
He furrowed his brows. You pull him into a bearhug before he gets to speak again, and he doesnt complain.
Sunday lets himself melt into you, hesitantly wrapping his arms around you as if asking whether he was worthy of your embrace.
“Stop thinking.” You said, sounding so sure as you squeezed him. “Im glad you’re safe, by the way.”
Sunday slowly nods, “..Alright. Thank you.”
You spoke again after a moment of silence. “I seriously think you need a bodyguard.”
And because Sunday loved to put up with your nonsense, he can only smile as you brighten up his day. “That I do.”
🐦⬛ Moze
The door to the flat creaks open. The moment you heard the sound, you already knew it had been a rough, rough day for Moze. He normally never makes a peep when he’s entering. In fact, he didnt even announce he’s back today- he simply set his weapons aside and beelined right for you and the couch you were seated on.
“Whoa there- easy Moze.” You gently chide when he suddenly wraps his arms around you without warning, being uncharacteristically clingy. He only loosens his death grip when you tap on his arm to signal he was suffocating you. “Bad day today?” You ask with a small sympathetic smile, even though you already knew the answer. You knew it the moment he returned home.
Moze didnt speak, but he gave a small nod. He looked tired and tense, and your heart couldnt help but ache for him seeing him in such a state. You carefully took his hood off so you could gently comb his messy hair with your fingers.
You’ve came to understand the man after spending years together with him. He’s always silent, but he learned to speak- even if its just a little- for you. On nights like these where the world went against him in every way possible, he goes mute. He doesnt know what to say. He doesnt want to. That and talking becomes too hard again.
He wants you. You and your warmth, the way you hold him, and the way you reassure him- murmuring how he’s more than just a weapon.
“Want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head.
“Want to cuddle?”
A pause. Then a small nod.
“Lets go to bed, its really late.”
Another nod.
You had to essentially pry him off you, earning you a disgruntled sound from the shadow guard. Moze follows you like a lost puppy as you relocate yourself onto the bed, never straying too far behind.
And finally you hold him, silently bringing him close to you. “Shh shh, you did good today, Moze. You’re alright, you’re okay.” You whisper, your hand finding it’s familiar place on his head.
“Mm.” He hums, and his brows quit furrowing at some point.
Between your gentle reassurances and the head massage you’re giving him, he miraculously falls asleep- you lean in to feel his steady heartbeat, and found yourself closing your eyes too.
“Goodnight, Moze.”
☀️ Phainon
“Partner!” Phainon dives straight into you, who was laying on the edge of the wheat fields.
“Phainon? Whats up?” You tilt your head, but he was already nuzzling into you like an overgrown puppy. You ruffle his hair and he lets out a hum. “You’re smothering me.”
“Sorry-” He finally lets you go, opting to flop down right beside you. He looked tired- he must’ve been running around all day again doing errands. Not that its surprising. As soon as spring comes around, Phainon gets so much energy he doesnt know what to do with it.
He’s started almost five new hobbies and expects to juggle it with his increasing workload while still making time for everyone. It was a rinse and repeat cycle- and every spring he burns himself out at some point no matter what you say to get him to stop and slow down.
You could only sigh as he clings onto you now, ‘recharging’, as he dubbed it once. “You have bags under your eyes again. You didnt sleep a wink these few days, isnt that right?”
Phainon blinks. “Uh.”
“Phainon.”
“Is it that obvious? Alright, guilty as charged.” He puts his hands up in mock surrender but had the nerve to keep on grinning. “Well, there isnt much I could’ve done about it- I had a lot to do today! The kind fruit stall granny needed someone to help her move her boxes, and I promised Hyacine to redecorate the Garden of Life for the chimeras with her. Of course I sparred with Mydei and Trinnon wanted me to play with her- I was gonna wrap it up for the day but Aglaea needed me. I went to train a bit afterwards, and a few of the kids wanted me to help them pick fruit, how could I say no?”
“No wonder you reek of sweat. You’ve been running around like a headless chicken!” You scold, scowling.
Phainon looks at himself before scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “I was planning to go to the baths first, but..”
“But?” You raised a brow.
“Its kind of embarrassing, actually.” Phainon’s pinky shyly intertwines with yours. “Didnt wanna go without you.”
“Because Mydei is busy?” You tease.
Phainon recoils as if he’s been hurt. “What? No way!” He nestles closer despite you grumbling about how sweaty he is. “I wanna go with you! Please, partner?” He flutters his long lashes, his pretty blue orbs staring right into yours. “Pretty please?”
You sigh. You had hoped today would be just you and nature and maybe a certain deliverer since he always tags along. The clamor of the baths wasnt appealing right now, but you knew Phainon needed rest. He needed this.
And with those big, wobbly blue puppy eyes staring right at you? No had long since cease being an option.
“Why are you getting up?” Phainon frowns slightly, hands chasing after you.
You pat yourself down, getting the wheat that had tangled with your hair earlier out. “To the baths. Come on, you need to shower stinky.” You help him up.
“Hmm. Can we hold hands?”
“Yeah sure, lets go. Oh, and Im forcing you to relax once we get there.”
“Haha. You’re funny, partner. Im always relaxed-”
“..Dont even start with me.”
Sunday fr gets jumped every time he leaves the express its so funny hoyo pls dont stop tormenting him.., (i love him sm) ☺️
Sorry for the lack of posts! I’ve been sick so I didnt have much energy but im feeling better now ^^;
Would you do star rail sunday for the tickle alphabet? With B, T and Z if you are not uncomfortable with it, please 🙏🙏🙏🙏
[tickly alphabet]
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BRINGING HIM UP, also for the letters choice eheheheeh
B - Bondage | How do they react to bondage, do they enjoy it and if yes, what is their favorite pose?
WELL. To keep just the last letter under the cut, he is extremely embarrassed but he is pretty much into it. I think he is most used/comfortable with his hands being tied together, maybe above his head. In any case, he is okay with being all tied up and restrained (like they do with him whenever he gets to show up in a cutscene in the game)
T - Teasing | Their most favorite methods of teasing their lee/ler?
I don't think he teases, no matter what position he finds himself in. Sunday is most the type to be teased until he is crying and whining and whimpering ksndiwhe
N$FW under the cut!!!
Z - Zones | N$FW - Do they have an erogenous tickle zone: the spot that turns them on when tickled?
I can't really think of any particular spot that would turn him on when tickled. I see Sunday as a virgin with a lot of religious guilt penting him up, so it's really easy to get him flustered and give him an unwanted boner. Tickling him in the right way (maybe after tying this freak up) may do the trick
Phainon can't fully control his other form just yet.
➵ Notes; A request made by a lovely anonymous customer!
➵ Warnings; Possible OOC, needy (or clingy) behavior from Phainon, and canon details being incorrect!
It started off simple—you woke up before him.
With the sunlight beaming past your curtains, bathing your bodies in its warmth. A large arm laid over your midriff, taking away your ability to move. If you were to attempt to, Phainon would drag you back against his chest without delay.
After an incident of waking up and finding you missing from your side of the bed. In matters of seconds, your dearest husband stumbles out of your shared chamber. Tripping over his own limbs—It's remarkable how his composure seemingly disappears when it comes to you.
His eyes, previously the color of the vast sky, lit up in the glow of molten gold. He searches for you. Swinging open any closed doors with a desperation never seen in the Deliverer. But once he spots you, the blue returns in a slow blink. He let out a shaky sigh before approaching you. His steps unbalanced and sluggish.
“.. You're here.” He breathes out, his words aren't meant for you. “You're.. Here..” His arms tighten around your body. Confirming the weight of you against his chest.
“Don't leave me, Angel. You—You scared me...” he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Seeking that familiar warmth. “Don't leave me, okay?” he brushed his lips over the surface of your skin, enticing himself into indulging. Tethering over the line of need.
With the way he reacted, anyone would assume you had been taken by Thanatos themselves and recently returned to your love. Although the real reason is much simpler, so simple it makes him look rather ridiculous, you went out to quench your thirst.
In the end, you allowed your husband to continue holding you. Planting kisses over the side of your head, drifting down to your neck, before stilling in the crook of your shoulder as he weeps over the terrifying experience of losing you. No matter how short it was.
And now that Phainon has made a one-sided, unspoken rule for you. You're stuck beside him until he gains consciousness. But from the gentle rise and fall of his chest, it seems you'll be here for a while. Made apparent when you feel him shifting against your back, tucking your head under his chin.
While you don't necessarily verbalize any complaints regarding your husband's… persistent nature—held up from being one of the Chrysos Heir, solidified by the endeavour of fighting for a chance of tomorrow in an otherwise doomed world—admittedly, it gets overwhelming having him constantly be there.
You feel terribly guilty for enjoying moments of peace without having him bound to your side. And you can't even blame him—you've heard about the unfortunate destruction of his home. Having everything he loved burnt away in the sea of flames, leaving behind the ashes of memories for one to carry.
It must've been painful and you can't fathom how isolating it is to be the lone survivor. His village being reduced as a mere cryptic tale, a reminder of how little to nothing left there is to proof its existence.
Instead of falling down into despair, the lost only pushed him to regain it all back. Fill up the void left behind by the scorching flames.
You eyes flicked over to his half open fist. Catching the golden glint of the wedding ring. Despite how familiar the sight have become, your hand grasp hold of his palm. Finger curling, barely covering the surface.
Phainon's left hand always remained hidden under a layer of fabric. Black colored glove. Which he wears only one. Specifically on this hand. Perhaps it's Lady Aglaea's personal preference for unsymmetrical style.
From his palm alone, you could see the ramification arising from his relentless voyage under the title of Deliverer. The one bringing an end to suffering.
He claimed to feel grateful in being chosen by the prophecy because if not for it, he would've been a wandering soul on the battlefield instead of returning home. To you. It was his attempt to reassure, after seeing the worry your gaze held when you found him injured.
Gently, you pull his palm closer to your lips. Tracing over the faint scars left on the callous skin. You're able to feel each one. A scratch that glide across his palm to the rough later formed over the pad of his thumb.
You rest a kiss over the surface. Closing your eyes for the moment, and while there are moments of doubt in your marriage, you cannot deny the love you two hold for one another. No matter how intense his version may come out to be—you'd stay. For it meant being with him.
Hah..
You really are a hypocrite.
The muscles in his fingers twitch, giving him away.
You freeze. In an attempt to see his face, you tilt your head but to no avail. “.. Phai?” Your call receive no answer. You furrow your brows. “Honey?” it seemed calling him by the sweet pet name had an instant effect, as you feel him shift above before he buries his face into your scalp.
You can hear a faint whine. No, you can feel it. You can feel him whining against the top of your head.
“.. How long have you been awake?” the thought of him feigning sleep this whole time is rather embarrassing to know.
Phainon didn't give an immediate answer, but his fingers curl against yours. Cupping your hand in his fist as he pulls you close. He takes a whiff of your scent. Once he's satisfied, he murmurs against you, “when you held my hand. I woke up.. I thought you needed something.”
“.. Oh.” You nearly forgot how much of a light sleeper he is nowadays. He has a habit of waking up early, so you should've known being awake before him is already odd on its own.
The two of you stay like that, ignoring how much brighter the outside world is by each passing seconds.
“.. Can you continue..?”
“Hrm?”
“Kissing my hand.. You—You were in the middle of that.” He clarifies. Unable to control the strain in his voice. “Please.” He added softly.
You huff. It's a one-of-a-kind type of intimacy. One you never imagined for yourself, it always seems distant and out of reach. Yet, here you are. “.. Can I look at you while doing so?”
“Of course,” he loosens his hold, allowing you the chance to shift your position to your other side. Once you're facing him, his hold returns. Perhaps even tighter—more eager.
You lift your hands. Still curled together in a ball. You lay your lips against the side of his hand. A faint whimper escapes him. You drift down, a kiss to his wrist.
“.. I love you.” The words came out naturally, a spontaneous moment amidst your intimacy.
When the air between you began to rise in temperature is when your eyes flick up to meet his. Wide in shock.
And, although you never left his side this morning, his blue eyes are overtaken by the swirling gold. Glowing brightly. His pristine locks is burnt away in a slow, flickering flame as the blonde underneath makes its appearance known.
Next thing you know, you're shuffled closer to his chest by the two charred wings that have emerged from his back. Forming a cocoon around you.
“.. Honey,”
“.. I'm sorry. I couldn't—” he squeezes his eyes shut. The heat rising up to his cheeks as he tries to subdue his body back to its original state. “.. I promise you, I didn't mean to.. Transform.”
“it's okay.” You chuckle, lifting a hand to cup his cheek. Ignoring the burning sensation that greeted your palm. “.. I didn't think I had this much of an effect to you.”
Phainon—no, Khaslana visibly squirms. Unable to deny your words. “.. You uttered it without warning and I couldn't control myself.”
“I like it.” you admit, without shame.
He blinks. “.. You..”
“It's like a reward, you know? I made you feel so loved that your wings sprang up.” you couldn't hold back the giggle that escapes your lips.
Khaslana huffs, unable to respond and choosing to bury his face into your chest. His wings closing in even more, responding to his emotions.
“Hey, you haven't answered me.” You feign offense, brushing past the golden locks. Playing with the longer strands of hair.
He let out a soft laugh, unable to hide his smile. His lifts his head, cheek pressed against your collarbone as he whispers, “Love doesn't begin to describe the adoration I hold for you.. But—”
He leans up, and now it's you whose breath hitches.
“I love you too.” his lips, filled with so much warmth and deep affection, finds it's place against your own.
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