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."
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Unpleasant Revelations - DPxDC Ficlet Idea for the Stillborn Au
"Have you met my youngest, Damian, Mr. Masters?"
Its only from twenty years of long, hard experience and practice that Vlad doesn't increase the room temperature from 'borderline uncomfortably cool' to 'unbearably hot' the moment Bruce Wayne pulls his youngest and "only" biological son out in front of him.
He puts only in quotations because twelve year old Damian Wayne looks scarily, uncannily like one Daniel Brown. Jack and Maddie's foster son, second victim of their foolishness, and only other halfa in existence. Second only to him.
It's nauseating how similar they look. From the scowl and terrible glare on the young boy's face, to his brown skin -- which was only a few shades lighter than Daniel's, the shape of his nose, and even the strange winged edge of his eyebrow. Something that Vlad has long since come to find endearing on the child he considered a son of his own. The only difference was that Damian had dark, sharp green eyes.
Daniel's eyes were blue. The same glacier shade as his father's, who stood behind Damian with a proud, oafish smile on his visage.
It was infuriating how similar they look. Vlad might not have rapidly swung the room temperature from one extreme to the other, but he can't stop himself from letting the fury burning within his core from slipping out and raising the temperature up a few degrees.
Because it really only meant one thing.
Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were related.
Damian Wayne and Daniel Brown were brothers.
Standing in front of him, it was clear as day. He can already picture a phantom image of Daniel standing beside Damian, the same scowl written on his face, the same glare carved into his eyes. The only difference being the dark, exhausted circles beneath them that seemed to be permanently painted onto his skin. The only thing missing being the permanent loneliness and vigilance permeating his being like a scar.
This, if revealed, would be enough to ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation. Or, at the very least, darken it quite a bit. The great philanthropist Bruce Wayne with another secret blood child? One related to his youngest? One that had been put into foster care? Seemingly thrown away?
It would be a firestorm.
One that Vlad is not keen on starting.
It would ruin Bruce Wayne's reputation, yes. But it would hurt Daniel in the process -- the harassment he would face alone might just be enough to break that fragile child completely. That was just not something he could allow. Or, even worse, bring him into his biological father's care and custody -- something Vlad was even less willing to allow.
It's not out of kindness to Wayne that Vlad will keep mum about this.
His grip on his champagne flute tightens, just a bit. He's still aware enough of the world around him to not let it shatter in his hands. His plastered, pleasant smile tightens around the corners, and he forces his focus to slide from Damian to Wayne.
"The resemblance is uncanny, Mister Wayne." He says, slanting his smile to the side slyly. Although he's not talking about the resemblance between Wayne and his son. Rage simmers beneath his skin, burning coal and embers in the core of his chest, nestled between his lungs, as he meets the man's eyes.
Wayne swaggles his head proudly, his ditzy smile widening as he squeezes his son's shoulder affectionately. Bastard, Vlad wants to spit.
He breathes in through his nose, and exhales out through his mouth. The champagne in his hand cools, and stops its unusual bubbling.
The Damian boy scoffs under his breath, his mouth still coiled upward into a scowl. With the revelation of his blood relation to Daniel evident, Vlad's not sure if he should find it endearing or not.
He is not Daniel, so he decides that it's just simply irritating. He decides to ignore it.
"And you said he was your only biological son?" He asks, voice lilting and head tilting. He knows its a suspicious question at worst, insulting at best. But considering Wayne's past proclivities, he can hardly call it an unexpected question.
Damian puffs in great offense, face twisting angrily. It reminds him of Daniel when Vlad insisted that he was wrong about something or other, and for a moment his heart swells, fond.
But this is not his child, and so the feeling quickly crashes and burns, simmering back into rage. This was not Daniel -- this was his replacement. A replacement that Wayne was free to keep.
Wayne chuckles, idiotically, as if he'd said some funny joke. Vlad's other hand, the one gripping his cane -- something he's required ever since he was dispatched from the hospital all those lonely years ago -- tightens instead. He grinds his teeth -- him and Jack Fenton would get along like a house on fire, he hates it.
"I can understand why you'd ask that, Mister Masters," Wayne says, squeezing Damian's shoulder again, "but yes, Damian is my only biological son. Although that doesn't mean I don't love my other children any less."
Bastard.
For all his posturing and flouncing about caring for his city and his children, Vlad never would have thought the Prince of Gotham capable of abandoning one of them.
But, well.
They all have their dark secrets.
And what one man throws away, another man picks up. If Bruce Wayne didn't want the treasure child that was Daniel Brown, then Vlad Masters was more than happy to take him instead.
"I see."
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keep seeing shit about the new ts album & mental illness and i am so so tired. please be nice to actually "crazy" people if ur gonna use us for the aesthetic. i'm not schizophrenic cause it's cute. don't joke about asylums if u haven't had those experiences (and even some of y'all who have been treat it like a vacation & to the rest of us it's prison. i mean literally. prison. incarceration. that's not new shit. and yeah, i'm that "actually crazy" person screaming in the ward. ur not any better than me.)
idk i keep posting and deleting about this cause i can't get my thoughts out properly i just. i'm tired. there was already a worsening problem of "socially acceptable" mental illness pushing out the rest of us (as it's always been) and now there's the top artist in the united states calling herself crazy, saying you should be scared of her, she was raised in an asylum, etc. and it's like.... that's my lived experience. medical doctors refuse to treat me because they're scared of my psychiatric disorders. i've had the cops called on me for episodes. i spent a decade rotting in the mental health system & institutions and i only got out after years of planning how to get away. and so much more i cant even put into words.
and now not only are y'all using folk like me & our experiences for the aesthetic. you're not even a decent human being to those of us who have actually lived through this shit. idk man. really rubs me the wrong way.
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