Want to be IN one of my stories?!

Have you been missing Grim? The god of the dead has been missing YOU. Enjoy this personalized little love note story where YOU are the heroine and object of the Grim Reaper’s attention.

Want to party with Grim?

Everyone needs a little self insert story right? What are you waiting for Daddy Death is waiting!

You’ve been in a funk lately. So your friends convince you to not only go to Vegas for the weekend, but also to try and get into the Wolf Town club on a Friday night.

You’re not even sure you can get in the club, it’s super exclusive and you’ve only heard about the Las Vegas hotel owner enforcing that law.

Even a picture of Grim Scarapelli make your insides quake and a heat flush through your body. With his sexy dark hair, and tailored suits, he has a refined edge to what you imagine a much darker, primal, dangerous side. In the bathroom, you slide that perfect shade of lipstick across your lips that makes you feel like the incredible woman you are – even if your outfit feels like it’s painted on as a second skin.

You hate to admit to yourself that you really need this. A boost. Something to break up the hum drum that has settled into your skin like a gray malaise.

You used to be vibrant dammit! And tonight, you absolutely will be, again.

The line is ridiculously long of people wearing glitz, seven inch stilettos’, and desperation. You almost join the back of the line but one of your most extroverted friends has an in with Wolf Town bouncer and you follow your group.

You are plunged into the pulsating beat of the club, violet neon lights crawl over your body and the crowd thrumming to the beat. While you’re friends sidle up to the bar, you stay back a few steps. Normally, a club like this would overwhelm you, grate against your ears, nerves, and brain. But everything feels like velvet brushing against you. A deep grounding sensation starts in your belly and pulls you into the floor, making you stand taller.

A prickling on your skin has you look up. Balconies float overhead, where partiers likely get their bottle service. And you meet the familiar golden brown eyes you’ve only seen on a screen.

Even at this distance you feel on the edge of oblivion, as he stares you down. Sleeves rolled up, you see the tendons flex in his forearms as he grasps the railing, still staring at you with a dark hunger.

You blink and he’s gone. You realize you haven’t been breathing and bouts of cold and heat wash through your body in tumultuous waves. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe it’s not Grim…You turn to check on your friends and smash straight into the broad, muscled chest. A blend of dark amber and something spicy wraps around you. The man, no, Grim Scarapelli is so much more than a man, backs you up against a wall, before blocking you in with two powerful arms.

You want him to touch you so bad, your shaking. Then dips down so his hot breath strokes your ear as he says,

“Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never gonna turn around and desert you.”

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