#undertaker x y/n

[aifanfictions]

Write a story about (y/n) being the Phantomhive maid who helps Ciel and Sebastian with their cases and after going to the undertaker for information, Undertaker starts to slowly fall in love with (y/n)

Whims of the Reaper

In the grand halls of the Phantomhive Manor, (Y/N) continued her diligent work as the ever-graceful maid of the distinguished household. Each day, the bond with Ciel and Sebastian grew stronger, and her efficiency in managing the grand estate reached new heights. But, little did she know, the eccentric storm was brewing, ready to unravel the calm of her structured life.

The peculiar tale began on a foggy evening when a case took Ciel Phantomhive, the young Earl, and his loyal demon butler, Sebastian, to the Funeral Parlor run by the enigmatic Undertaker. The mortician had an unyielding fascination with death, and his macabre sense of humor was as peculiar as his profession. As they stepped into the dimly lit parlor, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a shiver down her spine. The Undertaker's peculiar aura was impossible to ignore.

Undertaker emerged from the shadows with a dramatic flair, a morbid chuckle escaping his lips. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, gleamed with twisted interest as he welcomed his guests. "Ah, young Phantomhive and Sebastian! What brings you to my humble establishment today?"

With an air of mystery and mischief, Ciel explained the nature of their case, and Undertaker was immediately engrossed. His odd commentary, a unique blend of the morbid and the surreal, left (Y/N) both intrigued and baffled. Her wide eyes darted from Undertaker to her young master and his butler, trying to make sense of it all.

As the conversation continued, Undertaker's fascination with their case was overshadowed by his growing intrigue in the unassuming Phantomhive maid. (Y/N) stood near the door, her presence both calm and bewitched by the eccentricities she was witnessing.

Undertaker couldn't help but be drawn to her. There was something about the way she furrowed her brow at his oddities, her innocence contrasting his morbid world. He longed to unravel the mysteries of her heart just as he did with the souls that came into his care.

When the business was concluded, Ciel and Sebastian prepared to leave. Undertaker's eyes, however, were no longer on the Phantomhive Earl but on the Phantomhive maid who stood near the door.

Approaching (Y/N), he leaned closer, his breath chillingly cool on her ear. "You, my dear, are not like the others who grace my parlor. You see, I find your innocence utterly captivating."

(Y/N) blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Thank you, sir, but I must be going now."

Undertaker's laughter danced with an eerie melody. "Oh, my dear, I hope to see more of you in the future. There is something truly delightful about your presence amidst all this death."

As (Y/N) stepped out of the Funeral Parlor, she couldn't shake the feeling that Undertaker was unlike anyone she'd ever met. His eccentricity and morbid fascination were a stark contrast to the life she led at the Phantomhive Manor. Yet, there was a curiosity in her heart, a yearning to understand the mysteries that lay beneath his peculiar exterior.

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Undertaker's interest in her had awakened a dormant side of his own heart. His fascination for death and the unknown was slowly eclipsed by a desire to understand the living, to grasp the complexities of human emotion, and to delve into the enchanting depths of (Y/N)'s soul.

As the days passed, (Y/N)'s encounters with Undertaker became more frequent. His visits to the Phantomhive Manor, each more eccentric than the last, would soon become a peculiar routine. His fondness for tea parties, during which he regaled (Y/N) with tales of the dearly departed, gradually transformed into moments of lighthearted banter and shared laughter.

The Phantomhive household watched with varying degrees of amusement and concern as Undertaker, the eccentric mortician, attempted to court the Phantomhive maid with a perplexing mix of macabre curiosity and eccentric charm. While Ciel and Sebastian were ever watchful of the maid's safety, they couldn't deny the curious bond that seemed to be forming.

Undertaker's heart, hidden beneath layers of eccentricity and morbidity, began to beat in a way it hadn't for centuries. And for (Y/N), the journey was equally baffling and captivating, as she found herself inexplicably drawn to the reaper whose world was as mysterious as the afterlife itself.

Each tea party with Undertaker brought new tales, bizarre stories that ranged from tragic to utterly absurd. They reveled in laughter, the distinct camaraderie growing between the reaper and the maid, both trapped in a dance of eccentricity that only they could understand.

Yet, there was something that Undertaker couldn't quite put into words. A feeling that defied logic, a longing that went beyond the realm of morbid fascination. He found himself entranced by the way (Y/N) would touch her fingers to her lips when she was lost in thought, or the way her eyes sparkled with innocence when she found his bizarre tales amusing.

His attraction to her was a complex tapestry of desire and intrigue, woven with the threads of both life and death. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about her that had captured his reaper's heart.

(Y/N) too found herself intrigued by the peculiar reaper. She had never met anyone like Undertaker, whose eccentricity was a stark contrast to the rigid world she had known. His stories, while bizarre, held a unique charm, and she couldn't help but feel a strange fondness for the mortician who found delight in death.

Yet, as Undertaker slowly unraveled the enigma that was (Y/N), he couldn't help but wonder if there was room in his heart for a love that was as unconventional as he was. As the days turned into weeks, his courtship of the Phantomhive maid took on a new dimension, a blend of eccentricity and longing that defied the boundaries of life and death.

As the eccentric reaper and the charming maid embarked on this peculiar journey of affection, the Phantomhive Manor witnessed the unfolding of a love story unlike any other. The grand halls that once echoed with secrets were now filled with the whimsical laughter of a reaper who danced with the living and a maid who dared to uncover the mysteries of the afterlife.

And so, amidst the eccentricity and the enigma, Undertaker and (Y/N) were drawn into a love that was as peculiar as it was profound. It was a tale of fascination, an eccentric affection that challenged the conventional understanding of love, and it would continue to unfold with each bizarre tea party and every morbidly delightful encounter.

In the grand halls of the Phantomhive Manor, where secrets and enigmas abounded, the most unconventional love story was in the making, and it would continue to unravel with each tea party, every eccentric tale, and every moment of laughter that defied the boundaries of life and death.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

#x reader #reader insert #undertaker black butler #undertaker #undertaker kuroshitsuji #undertaker x reader #undertaker x you #undertaker x y/n #Undertaker #PhantomhiveMaid #EccentricLove #EccentricAffection #WhimsicalRomance #MysteriousLove #ReaperRomance #PhantomhiveManor #EnigmaticLove #MorbidFascination #PeculiarLoveStory #UnconventionalRomance #LivingWithDeath #MaidAndReaper #TeaPartyTales #BizarreLove #SupernaturalRomance #LoveBeyondDeath #PhantomhiveChronicles #LoveInMystery

[dawn-moths]

"Epitaph"

Undertaker x Female Reader

word count: 15,900+

(requested by @anxious-chick // After running into the mysterious guest known as “Undertaker” at several of Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive’s weekly parties, the two of you eventually take an interest in one another, even if your part in that begins as somewhat reluctant. However, over time, as you grow more comfortable around one another, you find perhaps there's a reason you two were destined to meet, starting with the fact that he's the first one to show you physical touch isn't something to be afraid of.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! plot heavy in the beginning (sort of slow burn) with smut at the end, loss of virginity, best way i can describe this is like a one-sided reluctant acquaintances to lovers lol, bittersweet ending, some mentions of drinking/alcohol.

*ao3 mirror*

***

The cemetery beyond the mortuary was empty at this time of night, the small, early morning hours just beginning to creep over the horizon, staining the dark velvets of night with a fine veil of ghostly greys, the moonlight breaking through the thick shield of clouds overhead. Through the latticed windows of the kitchenette, silver beams slipped through the glass to lay on the cool tile floor, the table by the sill where you used to sit and read your mystery novels now overgrown with houseplants.

It was all he had left of you— ferns and pothos and calatheas.

Houseplants, and the loop of your hair that was preserved behind the glass of his mourning lockets.

Out of the countless bodies he’d seen through death, tended to and prepared to be placed perfectly in their eternal resting place, you had been the most beautiful and the most heartbreaking.

It had been years since he’d shed even a single tear over one of the deceased— decades— maybe even over a century— but for you, after all this time, he guessed he still had a few lingering shreds of humanity left in his crypt of a heart after all. No matter how far he tried to bury his grief, his mourning, your passing had finally been the thing to unearth it.

Standing before your headstone beneath the kitchen window, facing the direction of the setting sun, your favorite time of day, tracing the letters of your name with his sullen chartreuse gaze, slivers of emerald slipping through the gaps of his curtain of silver bags, he just let the tears fall. If anyone else had been around to see, they would’ve never believed the funeral director was actually crying over one of his corpses.

But you had been so much more than just a body, once upon a time. It haunted him to think one day he might be the only soul left to remember you’d even existed at all. But then again, those were all memories he still held dear. He could recall them as if they’d occurred only yesterday, could see the curve of your profile from across the room, feel the way the dip of your waist fit perfectly into his palm, hear the lilt of your laugh, able to amuse you with anything he said if he really wanted to once he’d finally deciphered your sense of humor.

Those days were over for you now, but he could still relive pieces of them, their echo reverberating through his mind as soon as he plucked the first string on one. No matter how melancholy the tune, the melody was still just as sweet.

Strolling away from your resting place, venturing further into the garden of graves that lay beyond, he began to hum a quiet song to himself, one he’d heard time and time again back when you two had first fallen into each other’s orbit. Despite the sadness, it made him smile. He wished he would’ve asked to dance with you sooner, danced with you more, once he’d finally gotten the chance.

He could almost feel the waltz welling within him, doing a turn and imagining your hands clasped with his, twirling you gracefully, allowing you to unravel just far enough to give the illusion of breaking away only to return to him, wearing that mischievous smile he so adored.

How he longed to revisit those nights in more than just his memories— the mysterious gatherings, the lavish parties, no matter what menagerie of wealthy, well-bred guests were in attendance, his interest always locking in on you.

But even he couldn’t have guessed, back then, that he would’ve ever grown so attached as to weep for you once you were dead…

***

It had all began at one of the Phantomhive’s illustrious, notorious nighttime banquets, each and every guest hand picked and carefully curated, placed strategically within the mansion’s hosting perimeter, down to the seating arrangements at dinner and the order in which the carriages arrived to deliver you all home at the end of the event.

The first few times you’d been invited, you hadn’t a clue why you were there. Because what could Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive possibly want to do with a local news column writer such as yourself? They’d barely spoken to you upon your arrival, too busy mingling with the more important guests, but as you’d awkwardly skirted the corners of the room, the neglect had given you the opportunity to do what it was you were best at.

Survey the crowd.

People watch.

Discover the strengths and weaknesses of your fellow party-goers all while remaining anonymous and tucked away into the shadows.

It was how you’d quickly began to rise through the ranks of the journalists at your press department, sniffing out mysterious stories and the savage truths behind them before anyone else even had the chance to pick a direction to start in.

To yourself, you thought it just made you a good journalist. To others, it made you dangerous.

And if anyone besides the hosts of the evening knew just exactly how lethal you could become with a pen and notepad in your hand, they’d all be anxiously vying to convince you they weren’t like other arms dealers and black market traders or any other less-than-ethical variety of underworld rat skittering through London’s secret mazes.

But that had all been a part of Vincent and Rachel’s plan. Have you stir things up just enough to have the vermin scatter, then all they’d need to do would be to divert them towards the trap.

By the fifth time you’d accepted their ominous invitation— why you kept returning despite the uneasiness it all gave you, you weren’t sure, other than your innate curiosity and just so happening to have most nights free from your busy work schedule— your hosts had finally found it appropriate to introduce themselves to you personally.

Even before you’d begun attending the parties, seen the infamous Phantomhive’s with your own eyes, you’d heard the rumors— not just of their wealth, but of their beauty as well.

Rachel and Vincent both bore striking appearances. They had this air about them, something you just couldn’t put your finger on, that made you both weary and trusting of them on sight. Like a siren singing from a rock near the shore, they lured you in with their elegant charms, but get too close and you’d find yourself drowning.

“Ah, there she is,” Vincent had said as he and his wife gracefully approached you. “The woman of the hour. Welcome, welcome.” You gave them a respectful courtesy, bowing your head and clutching your skirts, hoping to hide how your hands had begun to shake, your nerves getting the better of you.

“Thank you for having me,” you replied, trying to sound actually grateful instead of skeptical. You were going to keep your confusion to yourself, just let it go and enjoy being able to attend while it lasted, but then something inside you decided against it and you asked, “But— and excuse me if this is out of turn— why, exactly, have I been invited…?”

Rachel and Vincent both laughed and, for a moment, all air of intimidation seemed to disappear from them. Until they’d looked at each other, then looked back at you, smiling like cats who’d just caught a mouse and intended on teasing the poor creature for a bit before sinking its fangs down into the rodent’s throat.

Vincent leaned in, close enough to make you flinch, close enough to raise a slight heat into your cheeks. “Because, my dear journalist…” he’d whispered, “Rachel and I have a very important favor to ask of you.”

The favor in question, as it turned out, was more so a job. The Phantomhive’s couldn’t be discovered as double agents or else their entire cover operation would be blown, so naturally they sought out second hand services. But your willingness to spy on their guests for them didn’t come for free. They’d never even dream of inferring that you work without compensation of some kind. So, in exchange for your services, they were willing to put in a good word for you at the top newspaper in all of London.

“Just take your pick of the columns,” Rachel had said with a sly wink. “Any one your heart desires, do this for us and it shall be yours.”

At first, it almost seemed, and felt, too good to be true. But you were tired of getting stuck with the inane, mundane, and oftentimes completely domestic stories handed off to you by the other men at the office. If you came in with a headline worthy story, it was always one of them who got to claim it, making you do all the work only to sign it off with their name, as if any one of them could ever even hope to be half the writer— half the detective— you’d been with half the time in the game.

It was tempting, though, what was it they said about temptation again? Something about surrending to it in case it never came your way again?

Perhaps that was the reason you’d been so inclined to accept their offer in the end. Because, if they really were the sirens you suspected them to be, this opportunity felt like a liferaft tossed out to sea. You’d already made the mistake of drawing too close to the beast. Now all you could do was grasp onto the first thing that could help you escape the icy waters unscathed.

So, from there on out, every event of theirs that you attended you made sure to stay diligent, deceptively demure as you shied away from the thickest crowds, wearing clothes that looked nice enough to blend in but not so extravagant as to be the center of attention, your hair fixed into an elegant, albeit modest updo, always seeming to be holding a glass of whatever alcohol was being served that night that never found itself empty. Although, unlike most of the other guests, that wasn’t because the servants kept coming around to refill it. You had to stay focused, so, raising the rim of the crystal to your lips, you merely pretended to drink, yet another way to blend in.

However, despite the fact your eye for booking someone as shady or salacious was a very sharp, very skilled one, there had been one guest that, no matter how hard you studied him, how carefully you watched, gave nothing— absolutely nothing— away as to why he belonged in the room among the rest of the guests.

You were supposed to be the secret outlier, you thought, and the man’s presence haunted you from one week into the next. By your second soiree as a spy, you’d already gathered ample information on the ones you’d deemed guilty, still keeping a watch on the others out of the corner of your eye while you continued trying to dig a deeper hole for the rats to fall in, but at the end of that night drifting around the manor like your own kind of phantom, you still came up empty on your mystery man.

Until the very end, just as you were about to head out to the carriage arranged to take you home.

“I must say, Vincent,” his gravelly voice sounded from a little further into the main foyer, the remnants of a laugh fading off the end of his words, “If the Queen knew her watchdog had such a sense of humor, I think she’d prefer to take you on as her personal entertainer instead.”

You stopped, pretending to search your purse for something as you listened in.

The Earl let out a devious chuckle of his own, going on to reply, “Yes, but if I did that, then who would be around to entertain you, Undertaker?”

You clasped your purse shut with a muted click and continued towards the carriage. For tonight, you had all you needed. And though it was just a title, barely even a name to know him by, the moment you got home and scribbled down the ten letters of Undertaker onto your growing web of information gathered from these parties, you could already sense that he was the key to the biggest mystery you’d been faced with yet.

***

Though you couldn’t see his eyes through the thick silver curtain of his hair, from across the room you knew— could practically feel it as a fresh wave of chills spiked up your spine— that Undertaker was staring straight at you. You stared back, lips slightly parted as your next breath caught halfway up your throat, his silent acknowledgment of you making you feel suddenly naked, vulnerable under his recognition.

He offered you a mischievous crack of a smile, all teeth, and a playful, waggling wave of his black-nailed fingers. You felt your cheeks heat, feeling startlingly self-conscious, though not entirely sure why, and turned to excuse yourself to the nearest washroom to collect yourself.

Staring down your reflection in the mirror, you reminded yourself why you were here. To investigate. To uncover. To expose. Not just for the promotion that had been generously promised to you, but for the sake of the common good as well. Or, at least, that’s one of the stories you’d started telling yourself to make your duplicity to all the people who you’d pretended to enjoy the company of a little less guilt-tripping.

Besides, the Phantomhive’s also knew you couldn’t resist a cause where injustice was being done, and while it sort of made you sick to watch this group of miscreants chatting and laughing like they’d never harmed the orphaned or the sick or the poor week after week, you knew, in the end, their evil would not prevail.

Resolute in your mission here once again, you exited the washroom, intending to migrate back into the lion’s den, when all of a sudden that familiar, bone-chilling voice sounded from behind you, making you flinch.

“You know…” Undertaker began, who’d been leaning against the nearest wall before pushing off with one shoulder to lessen the gap between you, the layers of black fabric he wore lightly billowing behind him with each heel-to-toe step. His arms were crossed, and his shadow began to creep over you, seeming as if it could swallow you up at any moment. But still he wore an amused grin like he was about to tell a charming joke and was simply awaiting the perfect moment to deliver the punchline. He continued, “The guest list of these parties changes every week, yet, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, there are only ever two who get invited every single time…”

You had noticed that actually, keeping the little tidbit of information close to your chest, sometimes purposely acting like it was your first time attending such a gathering if you noticed the roster was entirely fresh, but he was right.

The only other person besides yourself who graced the Phantomhive manor on a weekly basis, other than the Phantomhives themselves, of course, was the silver shadow known as Undertaker. The man had been nearly as elusive and calculating as you had thus far, but now, it seemed, he wished to show part of his hand.

Undertaker cocked his head to one side, seeming to study you through the shaggy fringe concealing half his face like a mask, and said, “Sort of odd, don’t you think?”

And it really wasn’t his sudden and unexpected presence that had caught you so off guard. You were used to potential targets confronting you, whether to try and scare you off from a possible story they were at the root of or convince you there was nothing to see here. This, however, was different. Because the increased pounding of your heart and the sudden loss for words didn’t seem to be out of fear, but, perhaps, out of the kind of flustered intrigue that comes with finding a stranger very, very attractive.

“I, uh…” was all you had time to say before Vincent Phantomhive was approaching from down the hall, seemingly with something urgent to discuss with Undertaker, giving you a smile and a nod as if to say keep up the good work before he and his guest continued down the hall and disappeared around the next corner, all that black fabric fluttering in his wake.

You spent the remainder of the night distracted, off your game, growing frustrated with yourself and with him for having your thoughts interrupted by that shining scar that cut diagonally across his pale face, the lilting hum to his tone that had indicated something you didn’t even dare explore, even within the confines of your own imagination, and all those long strands of silver that looked like threads spun from moonlight.

Needless to say, you didn’t gather much intel that night, and you were honestly just counting down the hours until it would be time for you to go home. But as each guest departed, one after another, their carriages formally announced to be awaiting them, something else strange and rather off-script happened to you.

Normally, you were among the middle group to say your thank yous and goodbyes to the hosts before exiting through the grand entrance, heading down the curved double staircase before being whisked away back into the grey-toned city. But tonight, after watching the last of the guests thank the Phantomhives for their glittering hospitality and departing the manor, you found you were the final guest that remained.

You, and, much to your dismay, surprise, and general curiosity, Undertaker as well.

You were sure your carriage would be pulling up any moment now, and so you hung close to the doors to search out the horse pulling it through the dark. You hoped this served as an indicator you wished to be left alone with your own thoughts, but, alas, that looming shadow of a man who’d suddenly and quite unexplainably taken an interest in you was hovering by your side again like a crow waiting for you to drop some crumbs.

“Do you think it’s true?” he unceremoniously prompted, voice hushed to a low, sultry whisper, making the thin hairs on the back of your neck rise with suspense.

You cast him a glance over your shoulder, trying to act indifferent and completely unbothered. “Do I think what’s true?” you asked, an edge of irritation splicing through your forced boredom.

Undertaker breathed out a knowing chuckle, something from beneath his wide sleeves clinking and chiming together lightly before he applied more pressure to silence it. He then cleared his throat and said, “This place, they say it’s haunted, you know.”

“And?” you pressed, and though you were trying to make it seem like you couldn’t have cared less, your skin was crawling with the anticipation to know more, more, more.

“And,” he mimicked, leaning in a little closer to you, testing to see how far you’d let him invade your personal space, “do you think it’s true?”

You turned to face him, scrutinizing him now, a crooked mask to hide your true intrigue, wanting nothing more than to reach up and gently push his bangs away from his eyes just to discover what color they were beneath the curtain that so carefully protected that information. You wanted to trace the lines of his scars, especially the one wrapped around his neck like a collar, a chain, a reminder of something horrific he’d once endured, and learn the story behind every single mark.

You wanted to learn his name, his true one, not just his job description or whatever morbid title Vincent had given him as part of some kind of inside joke they shared.

You opened your mouth to say something— what, you weren’t entirely sure— but just then, the feeling in the air seemed to change, an energy charged in the small space between your bodies, the scent of a storm carrying on a breeze, an invisible electricity sparking through you, lacing through your bones and frizzling your brain.

“They say sometimes you can feel them touch you,” Undertaker continued, and for a moment, just a mere hair of a second, you swore you could see a glint of light shimmering from behind his bangs, a flash of emerald here and then gone again before your eyes could even register the color. “They say it’s heavy, and cold as ice, like a stone lifted from a freezing sea, the sensation coming and going as quick as a breath in a winter’s breeze…”

The first time his pale, cold hand had brushed against the dip of your waist it had already been too late. His long, lithe fingers had lingered there for but a moment, just long enough to allow the shape of his touch to drape itself upon your body, the memory of it a thrilling, frightening thing. But when you’d flinched away, drawn in a sudden, sharp gasp under your breath, he retracted. Still, despite the new distance put between you two, he wore that mischievous smile, his broad shoulders shivering with the containment of some kind of mean laughter.

It was then that your carriage arrived, the Phantomhives’ butler announcing this to you, but just before you could turn and leave, Undertaker said, “Remember, miss journalist, sometimes the answers to our biggest questions are found in the things we can’t see…” as he slinked back off into the dark, leaving you standing in the center of the foyer alone.

If you hadn’t seen Vincent interact directly with him just earlier that evening, you would’ve deduced that he was the very spirit he’d warned you of, but then, about halfway home as the carriage traveled over the country’s uneven terrain, you realized something even more terrifying.

You’d never told him you were a journalist. The Phantomhives had assured you that no one besides themselves were to know, lest your cover and this whole operation they’d gotten you involved with be blown.

It kept you up at night, his words, his scars, his touch. But now you had an entirely new mission, one that was all your own.

And that was to discover just exactly who, or perhaps, what, this man called Undertaker truly was.

***

Some time passed before there was another party, what with the celebration of the Phantomhives’ sons’ birthdays and the Christmas holiday falling a little under two weeks apart. But, with the arrival of the New Year of 1885 quickly approaching, you weren’t surprised when you received yet another one of the crisp, cream and gold colored invitation cards in the mail announcing a grand celebration event at the manor.

This would be the biggest crowd you’d hidden amongst thus far, though, surely, you thought, the Phantomhives didn’t intend for you to be working too hard on such an occasion? Besides, you’d already turned in the extent of information you’d been able to gather on their people of interest. As far as you were concerned, this case, or at least your part in it, was closed. They’d already assured you they’d hold up their end of the deal as soon as you chose your desired position at the new press company you’d be working at come the new year too. Now, all you had to do was sit back and relax as the hours ticked down until midnight.

At least, that’s what you would’ve been able to do if not for the incessant appearance of him.

All night, Undertaker seemed to trail you like a shadow. No matter how many times you tried to slip out of one room and into another unnoticed, tuck yourself within a new crowd, folded between different nobles, it was only a matter of minutes until you looked over and saw his pale figure swathed in layers of black. A few times, he even dared to give you one of those cheeky grins and teasing waves, as if tormenting you was his most favorite game, and every time you met the gesture with a huff of a frustrated sigh and a swift turning on your heel, heading off to pick at the many food options set up around the different rooms or grab another drink as a servant carrying a tray of them passed by, not pretending to sip this time but actually allowing yourself to indulge.

But you should’ve really known by now that showing your back and trying to ignore him was probably your worst bet at actually being left alone. He was like a naughty child, continuously doing that which would get him the most reaction or attention, despite the consequences. And, like the tired parent who would do just about anything to get the child to behave, you eventually caved in and gave him exactly what he wanted.

“What?” you asked, walking right up to him where he was leaning against a wall, your arms crossed and attempting to wrestle your features into a look of grim displeasure rather than fluster-fueled nervousness. It was like a spell had suddenly been released into the air once you two were standing face to face, your prior agitation slowly but surely melting away until all you could focus on was the way his silver hair caught the dim light and those scars that just barely peeked out from his collar and curtain of bangs as if too shy to properly say hello.

“Good evening to you too, miss journalist,” he sarcastically greeted, though you detected no hint of malice, merely an air of teasing charm. Instead of irking you that time, the sentiment made your cheeks heat. You pretended to cough and look away, hoping it wasn’t showing too clearly on your face. He gestured to the party encircling you both, an endless, overlapping barrage of laughter and conversation filling the room, and asked with a slight raise to his voice, “What a wonderful way to ring in the new year, don’t you agree?”

Frankly, you realized you were still far too sober to be in this situation right now, but when you searched the room for any more of those silver trays holding flutes of bubbling liquid, you found, for once, there were none in sight.

“Listen,” you said, lowering your voice despite the loud chatter that tried to drown it out, clearly still in the investigation mindset despite your earlier resolution to enjoy a night away from work, “let’s just stop with the smalltalk. Off the record, why don’t you just tell me what it is you want and why I have to be a part of it?”

When he found it appropriate to laugh at this notion, one of which you were sincerely serious about, you found yourself flaring more towards anger than intrigue. “What’s so funny?” you hissed, suddenly wanting nothing more than your own shadow to hide inside of when you glanced around and noticed a few other party-goers trying to listen in on your conversation. You were used to coveting and collecting gossip, not being the source of it.

But Undertaker seemed largely undisturbed by the growing sets of eyes landing upon your shared corner of the ballroom, flicking one black-nailed finger beneath the hem of his fringe to wipe away a tear of amusement before replying through a chuckle-laced breath, “You are, my dear. Simply hilarious.”

Wanting to turn and stalk away from him again, you resisted the urge, now determined to beat him at his own game, the rules of which you still weren’t entirely clear on. “Oh, so you like jokes then?” you baited, a smirk beginning to curve up on your lips now. “Well why didn’t you just say so? How about you and I make a deal then?” At this, Undertaker’s expression turned comically inquisitive, regarding you with a new kind of focus, his silence prompting you to continue. “If I can tell you something funny enough to make you laugh before the end of the night, you leave me alone after that.”

“And if you lose?” he posed, beginning to circle you until it was your back towards the wall instead, a hunter closing in on its prey. “What do I get if I win?”

You took a moment to think about that. You didn’t have much to give, if you were being honest. So you made the mistake of asking him, “What do you want?”

The smile that carved across his pale features then sent another one of those cold, electric shivers down your spine, and instantly you regretted allowing him so much freedom in choosing his prize. Tapping his chin with a finger as he pretended to sort through his options, he quickly and proudly settled on, “How about you have dinner with me?”

Aghast, you truly didn’t know what to say. Wanting to play it cool, not show how ridiculous the idea seemed to you when stated so shamelessly out of the blue, your throat bobbed with a particularly hard swallow and your voice shook slightly as you began to say, “That’s really what you want?”

Undertaker nodded, his smile not faltering. “That’s what I want.”

Not happy with the consequences but still clearly up for the challenge, you steeled your expression and agreed with a semi-confident, “Alright then. All I have to do is make you laugh before the clock strikes twelve,” and then I’ll never have to be bothered by you again. Should be easy, if he thought you were so hilarious without even trying.

However, as you searched the far corners of your mind for a joke or anecdote you thought would knock him out on the first try, you suddenly found your temporary confidence dying like an ember fading out in its hearth. You resided in the world of logic and facts, not entertainment and tomfoolery. You had a sense of humor, sure. Someone in your line of work had to, once in a while, lest they go mad when constantly being reintroduced to the bleakest parts of humanity.

Finally, you recalled a particular story that you’d nearly cried at upon hearing the first time, you’d laughed so hard. Surely, this was the one. You remembered it perfectly too, only, the further you ventured into telling it without so much as a twitch of a smirk appearing at the corner of Undertaker’s lips, the more you began to sense that you’d been lured right into a trap.

“Amusing,” he stated, monotone and mocking you. “But if you want to win, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

You stood there, staring at him, seething, knowing this had all been according to his plan all along. You figured you could always just find a moment to slip away from the party and into one of the carriages already lined up outside before the new year rang in, perhaps voiding this odd and informal little contract you two had entered into together, but a part of you also knew that, whether a week or a month or a year from now, you’d find yourself faced with him again some way or another. Perhaps it was better to just keep trying even if only to prove to yourself you’d fought instead of running away.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you taunted, some of your indignance slipping through the vengeful grin spreading across your lips, “I’m just warming up.”

Undertaker tapped his wrist, miming where a watch would be, if he wore one, and said, “Tick tock… Only five more hours till midnight.”

And thus the game began.

***

Every hour that passed, with every attempted joke that was told without the desired reaction, the more dejected you began to feel.

And now, with less than half an hour to go, you’d already accepted your imminent defeat.

There had been a few times you could tell he was seriously having to hold back, the promise of a chuckle choked out behind his teeth or a burst of a laugh strangled somewhere deep in his chest before it had time to rise from his lungs. He had a lot more self control than you would’ve originally given him credit for, that much you couldn’t deny, but it almost seemed the brunt of his amusement came from how each attempt you made became more desperate, some of the words leaving your mouth shameful enough to make your mother faint had she been around to hear you say them, digging up the darkest, most shocking lines you’d ever uttered in your entire life.

You were a few drinks over the limit of caring if any of the other ladies in attendance that night heard you saying such depraved things in public, and to a man you barely even knew on top of it all, but one thing was for certain.

Undertaker was cracking.

You’d nearly gotten him on a few of the last ones, suddenly grateful for all the horrid things you’d heard the men exchanging and laughing about in the press office— another place you were used to acting like a shadow within. Though, even if you felt like you were maybe getting closer to winning, your dignity would lose regardless. You felt as if you were stooping to some unacceptable level you’d normally turn your nose up at, behaving in such an undignified way, yet the itch to prove him wrong and reclaim your pride was hard not to scratch, and right now there was only one way to do so.

“You know,” Undertaker said, only fifteen minutes to midnight, “I will admit, you’re really starting to make me regret entering the mortuary field and wishing I’d gone into journalism instead. Do your colleagues truly say such audacious things?” Just then he nearly made himself laugh, though you figured that wouldn’t count.

By now, you had a few cards left to play, having saved your best ones for the final hour, just in case, though that bank had nearly run dry. You had one last ridiculous tale left up your sleeve before you’d truly have to hang your head and admit defeat, and for a moment, you let hope get the better of you. It truly seemed this would be the one to best him, and as you loudly and, thanks to the several glasses of champagne flowing through your veins, very confidently delivered the perfect punchline, you counted the seconds until he’d inevitably burst with laughter and be forced to forgo his mission to unexplainably irritate you.

But he swallowed it down, dousing it with his next and final gulp of champagne, having drank nearly as much as you throughout the night, probably more, yet somehow unaffected, and as he sighed out a satisfied exhale, sans the expected howl of laughter, your expression of victory crumbled down to forlorn.

“Are you kidding me?” you confronted, clearly fed up— with him, mostly, but also with yourself— before you began stammering out a mess of jumbled syllables proclaiming how this entire thing had been rigged in the first place.

“Technically there’s still a few minutes,” Undertaker reminded you, nodding towards the grand clock adorning the mansion’s foyer. “Though if I were you…” he leaned in, so close his lips were practically pressed against your ear, his breath tickling the side of your exposed neck, “I’d just count myself lucky you didn’t wager a kiss at midnight in the case of your defeat.”

Between the warmth of the alcohol and the dizziness those words had just washed over you, you feared for a moment you might faint, your posture suddenly swaying before Undertaker instinctively reached out to help steady you, both his palms pressed firmly to your waist, reminding you of the night he’d tried to spook you with ghost stories and gotten a little too close for your comfort.

Only this time, you didn’t flinch away instantly. Instead, you allowed his hands to stay there for a moment, staring up at him with perhaps the softest expression you’d worn all night. You felt your mouth opening, though again found yourself unsure what you would say, when suddenly, faster than you were ready for, the chorus of counting down the seconds until the new year filled the room and startled you back to reality.

You pulled away from his orbit, smoothing down your skirts with your sweaty palms, and turned your gaze to the smallest hand on the clock, barely mouthing the numbers of the countdown until it was only ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…

“Happy New Year!” Undertaker chanted, shouting out with the crowd but looking straight at you, as if the celebratory words were meant for only one person in the room. He raised his empty glass your way, wearing one of those sinfully sly smiles, and said, now only loud enough for you to hear, “How’s next Friday at seven sound, hm?”

You could barely understand what he was talking about. You were already too far gone. All you could remember at that point was the sinking feeling of dread laced with a familiar sense of excitement, as if you’d just been the key witness to a very important event and now had the chance to give the first testimony of the case.

But isn’t this what you’d wanted all along? A way to get closer to him and uncover whatever it was he was hiding— because you knew he was hiding something.

Your initial intrigue had never really faded, no matter how much you’d tried to convince yourself you loathed him, that he was insufferable, more trouble than he was worth. But, then again, if it was answers you wanted, it should be easy for you to get them.

You’d always been good at solving mysterious events. How would solving a mysterious person really be any different?

***

You’d upheld your end of the bargain and joined Undertaker for dinner, which had been stranger than fiction but a rather good story to file away for your personal collection. Much to your surprise— and perhaps slightly to your disappointment— things had started and ended with dinner. Just dinner. You’d tried to pry, tried to get him to open up, learn more about him, but somehow he always found a way to seamlessly direct the topic of conversation back around to you.

You’d decided he maybe wasn’t so bad afterall, had even agreed to do it all again sometime. 

But now, a year later, there were no more parties. 

All that had been left in the wake of the once pristine and lively Phantomhive manor was ash and the crumbing, scorched remains that had outlasted the fire. Not even the children had survived, and though you’d only seen them a handful of times as their nanny had led them up the grand staircase by the hand to put them to bed just as the first batch of guests were beginning to arrive, it still made your heart twist with the tragedy of it all.

At least they’re together, you tried to console yourself as you stood before Rachel and Vincent’s graves, your previous hosts reduced to nothing but a matching set of stones sticking out from the cold earth. You wouldn’t exactly have considered them friends, per se, more so something closer to employers, but you couldn’t help it. You’d grown more attached to them than you’d originally intended.

“Do you think it’s true?” a familiar voice suddenly asked from right behind you, making you jolt and turn to face him. You’d already known it was Undertaker, yet, as you tried to meet the glimpse of green you’d once caught shielded behind all that silver, you still found a part of you was surprised to find him standing in the same graveyard, as if having completely forgotten he was, after all, a mortician. 

“Do I think what’s true?” you asked, a slow wave of deja vu rolling through your mind.

“That humans really go to a better place after they die…?” The way he said it, gazing almost longingly down at the tombstones as they lay still and heavy on the frost-laced grass, made you start to see him in a new light. He was holding a shovel in one hand. You realized he’d probably been the one to dig the ditches and then bury the couple six feet deep.

Instead of giving him an answer though, you instead turned your view back to the graves, reading their names, their dates of birth and death, and then, carved beneath the proof that there were indeed people sleeping beneath the slabs, the matching epitaphs marking the smooth stones.

“Potentia Regere…” you repeated, more to yourself than anyone else. “What does it mean?”

Stabbing the shovel’s sharp tip down into the ground, Undertaker simply stated, “Power to rule…” It was the Phantomhive’s motto, in a sense, the latin words appearing on the family’s coat of arms. You were just about to make a comment about how surreal it all seemed, the fact that something that quickly had become so commonplace in your weekly schedule was now no more, but then the gentle clinking of a mysterious sound you’d heard before interrupted your reminiscence.

“What is that?” you asked, searching for the source. When Undertaker gave you a confused look, you clarified, “That sound? I’ve heard it around you before…”

“Ah…” he answered, a small, sad grin cracking on his lips. Then he pulled a brassy strand of several lockets from beneath his coat, the mementos chiming together more aggressively as he dangled them before you. “That would be these.”

As if requesting permission to take a closer look, you shyly cupped your hands out before you, allowing him to settle the chain into your palms for further investigation.

“They’re beautiful…” you sighed, inspecting each one individually, reading the names spelled out in neat cursive scrawl, the different shades of the hair tied into simple loops and pressed beneath the glass. Some of the dates engraved went back far before you were born, and, though his age often presented itself as ambiguous, definitely far before Undertaker could’ve been in this business. Though, instead of inquiring about this curious detail, the journalist part of you always hungry for answers, for the truth, you just swallowed and said, “There’s so many…”

In reply, Undertaker offered, “Well, I’ve known the Phantomhive family for a very long time.”

You handed the lockets back to him, watching as they disappeared back between the many folds of black fabric, and then the two of you stood in silence before the graves for what felt like a long time, the only sound the quiet whisper of the winter breeze.

Without even realizing, you found yourself crying, crystalline tears welling in your eyes, sparkling on the edge of your lashes, and then rolling down your cheeks in pairs. You tried to stay quiet, as if that alone could hide the emotion from the man standing directly beside you. And he wanted to reach out the moment he’d seen the tears welling, toss his shovel to the side and pull you into his chest, just let you cry into all his dark clothing until you had no more tears left.

But he remembered how you’d flinched the first time he’d tried to touch you, withdrawing from his proximity as if it were a plague. So instead, he settled for reaching for your hand, which was clenched into a fist and trembling by your side. That time, you didn’t pull away. Just shot him a sort of terror-struck look before your gaze softened and you used your free hand to cover your mouth, catching the first sobs that escaped through your lips, even giving his hand a squeeze as if to help ease your own pain.

Sensing that, perhaps this time, his touch was actually offering you some comfort, he decided to chance gently pulling you into his side, one long, slender arm snaking across your shoulders and back, hand rubbing up and down your arm as your body continued to shake with sorrow.

“I don’t even know—” you began, voice cracked and broken as you sucked in panicked, gasping breaths, “why I’m crying. I mean— they were— I was— it’s just—”

I know, he wanted to say, giving your shoulder a light squeeze, hoping the message was still delivered despite being unspoken. I know, you’re in pain right now.

And I’m sorry.

Human lives were so fragile. The only thing more delicate were their emotions.

Once you were finally able to catch your breath and calm down a little, you seemed to register his touch and quickly, albeit much more elegantly than before, distance yourself from it, clearing your throat as you settled your stance across from him, unable to meet his eyes— or at least the space that they should’ve been— that time around.

“I suppose we won’t be seeing each other quite as often anymore,” you noted, trying to force a smile, but it just came out crooked and sad. “I know we didn’t start off on the right foot but…” You paused, feeling yourself wanting to hold the rest of your sentiment back but then forcing yourself to say it anyway. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m glad we both skirted the edges of those parties before.”

Now you allowed yourself to look up and offer him a new kind of smile, this one bittersweet and almost apologetic. And he could feel you already trying to sever the invisible tie that loosely stretched between you two, the purpose of your shared proximity suddenly gone and therefore pointless.

You were just about to turn and bid him farewell when he spoke, more urgent than you’d heard him yet. He said, “Would you like to join me for some tea?”

You considered him, as if this were another one of his games, a riddle to solve. “Wha— Now?” you asked, as if it were the most preposterous proposition anyone had ever presented you with.

“If now suits you,” he said, trying to regain some of his composure, pulling his coat tighter over his shoulders as the wind picked up. “I can’t say it’s as grand as the Phantomhive manor, but where I live isn’t too far from here.” He smiled again, soft and soothing, as he continued, “Though, I can promise the quality of the tea is just as refined.”

It was his last ditch attempt at making a joke in the current situation and, over the more personal time you’d spent with him, you’d come to gain a new appreciation for his dark sense of humor, so you gave a timid nod and said, “Alright then. Lead the way.”

He dropped the shovel and started walking, you trailing beside him over the stone spotted hills.

***

Undertaker’s living space was indeed a far cry from the luxurious, spanning halls of the Phantomhive manor. It couldn’t even really be considered a house, as far as you could tell. It was, in all honesty, a mortuary practice that just happened to have a small kitchenette and an even tinier bedroom hidden behind a curtain in the back. You supposed it made sense when he’d said he didn’t live far from the cemetery, when that was his workplace. But you didn’t care right now. The tea in the mug between your palms was hot, the aroma sweet as the steam rose from the surface of the liquid, Undertaker generously leaving the small jar of sugar cubes on the table before you to scoop in to your preference.

He was sitting across from you, your legs nearly intertwined under the cramped table, Undertaker more relaxed while you just tried to stay within your own personal space. Again it occurred to him, your aversion to physical touch, and he took a moment to study you, as if tracing the features of your face beneath the thin black netting of the mourning veil or the intricate lace detailing of the collar of your dress— black, to match him for once— could uncover your truth to him, your past.

“Been to a lot of funerals in your time, I imagine…” you commented, suddenly overwhelmed by the pressing silence, the steady ticking of the wall clock unbearably awkward. “If I may ask, what made you choose this line of work to begin with?”

Undertaker took a sip of his own tea, which tonight was bitter and black. It would’ve surprised you to learn he usually stirred several cubes of sugar into his tea, no matter the strength or blend of it. Looks could be misleading, this you knew first hand from all the undercover work you’d done, as well as the many apparently innocent faces that had turned out to be gruesomely guilty. But also, on the opposite hand, some people really did show you exactly who they were right from the start.

You were starting to think maybe he was nestled somewhere in between.

“It’s a solitary kind of life…” Undertaker replied, masking loneliness under a grin. “I suppose, at the time, I was suited to it.” He gave a shrug as he raised the cup to his lips again, like that answer didn’t pave way for a hundred more questions.

“At the time…” you repeated. “Meaning, not any longer?”

You weren’t even sure what the purpose of that inquiry was. Normally, every question you posed was carefully chosen, hand-picked in order to serve a specific purpose that would paint a broader picture of the overall story.

Undertaker’s picture had so far just been one big canvas filled in with black, a few streaks of silver, and a flicker of green. There was no clear shape, no clear narrative, but suddenly, by slipping into something a little more specific, something to fulfill your own personal curiosities rather than that of straightforward facts, it was like you’d decided to take your own brush to an artwork you’d only ever been an observer of.

You were not a painter, but sometimes even an inexperienced hand could craft a masterpiece.

Undertaker’s smile didn’t falter, but something in the lines of his figure tensed, as if you’d shone a light into all that darkness expecting a gruesome beast, only to find there was something vulnerable living inside after all. Something genuine. Something lonely. Something you could relate to.

“How about you answer me something…” he began, pitching his weight slightly forward to lean closer to you over the table, his chin now resting in his palm. “You don’t like being touched…” At first, he said it more as an observation than a question. Then, after allowing discomfort to fill you during the pause, he concluded with a curious and perhaps even slightly sympathetic, “Why?”

At this statement, you felt yourself stiffen. Undertaker didn’t so much as flinch, just continued to consider you as if you were a puzzle he was trying to solve, working through every angle before making his first move. After a while, with you offering no answer or comment to this, he added, “If you’d rather not talk about it—”

Your throat bobbed with a thick, dry swallow, as if you’d just been caught for a crime you’d tried desperately to cover up, like the word GUILTY was branded into your forehead. Your mouth opened and closed and opened again, some excuse or alibi withering and dying on the tip of your tongue. Then you said, “It’s not that I don’t like it, I just…” You were absentmindedly toying with a piece of frayed lace off the hem of your sleeve, searching for a believable story to tell him that wasn’t a complete lie, but also wasn’t the entire truth either. But then you sighed, defeated, and looked him in the eyes, that glint of emerald peeking through, and admitted, “It’s just hard for me. I’m not used to it, it’s… complicated.”

The legs of his chair scraped softly against the uneven hardwood as he leaned in even closer, his arm draped over the surface, palm facing upwards, beckoning you to reach into it, to give him a chance. You glanced from his hand, a scar crossing over the love line etched into his alabaster skin, then back to his face, wishing you felt brave enough to take his invitation, wanting to, but finding the fear of physical contact swelling inside of you like a balloon that was one breath away from bursting.

It was so hard for you to trust. It always had been. Had only gotten harder since you’d entered into your current line of work, all of humanity’s ugliest sides revealed to you on a weekly, sometimes even daily basis. But what did you do when you got scared while chasing a story?

You felt the fear and you did it anyway.

So, hesitantly inching your hand closer to his open-faced palm, merely hovering there for a moment, as if trying to figure out whether this was some kind of trap or not, you finally allowed yourself to make contact, fighting the urge to pull back upon the first flinch of his fingers beginning to curl around your own.

Once his hand had completely closed around yours, it was as if all the tension gathered within your frame burst like a firework, the glittering embers giving way to something uncharted. Something new, and slightly nerve-wracking, but pleasant all the same, once you actually allowed yourself to enjoy it.

Undertaker stroked his thumb along the top of your hand, his long, cool fingers brushing delicately against your soft skin, and you felt your next exhale stutter, eyes threatening to well with tears for an entirely different reason now.

“Perhaps I can show you…” he said, the words merely a whisper on his pale lips, “that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

When you met his gaze then, it was like seeing him for the first time, both of his emerald eyes on full display, as if he’d just decided you were worthy of his trust, to know and keep his secrets the same as he seemed so intent on knowing and keeping yours.

There was still a small part of you that wanted to protest, that had the urge to pull away and put as much distance between you and him as possible. But that voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well now, distant and unintelligible. What took over was a voice you’d never heard before, one you didn’t even think you had, and all it was telling you was to allow yourself to fall. That he would be there to catch you when you did.

***

Your breath hitched before his fingers even made contact with your skin, eyes fluttering closed, like you thought not seeing would make accepting what was about to happen any easier.

“I’ve got you…” Undertaker murmured, the cold press of his palm finally reaching your cheek. He gave you a moment, patient with you while you allowed yourself to relax against his touch, your gaze slowly opening and glancing up to meet his eyes. Being this close, you came to realize they weren’t just green, like you’d originally thought, but laced through with a webbing of ambers and golds, a thin ring of teal rimming the edge of each iris. You’d never seen eyes like that before, dangerously entrancing, enticing, and it once again resurfaced the notion that the question wasn’t necessarily who he was, but what.

“See?” he smiled, not a hint of malice or mischief tucked into the corners of his mouth that time, only gentle reassurance. “I’ve got you.”

You placed your hand around his wrist, grip light, just to let him know you wanted a little more time to let this sink in. He was right. There was really nothing to be afraid of. Only, your quick-fire heartbeat still seemed to want to convince you otherwise.

There’s nothing to be afraid of, you kept repeating in your mind, nothing to be afraid of.

You let your view of him slip shut again as he slowly moved his fingers further back to lightly comb through your hair, finding the pin that had been holding it in place and pulling it free, your locks spilling down from the tightly wound coil of a bun that had been perched at the back of your head.

He’d never seen you with your hair completely down, every Phantomhive party that you’d attended making sure to tie it back, keep it out of your way, so you could stay focused on your job and not find yourself fiddling with it. He gently combed his fingers through it, disturbing a few loose knots, smoothing it down and laying it over your shoulders after removing the veiled hat from its place on your head.

“Such a shame…” he remarked, voice still low and soothing. “You’ve been hiding such beautiful hair all this time.” You remembered his mourning lockets, the different shades of strands that had been encapsulated behind the glass. You wondered if anyone would ever grow to love you so much as to always keep a lock of yours on their person. The notion made your lonely heart pulse with a dull ache.

Letting out a stuttering exhale, you now set your view upon the cascade of silver that framed all those black clothes of his, the strands almost sparkling under the low light as they shifted from white to grey and back again depending on how he moved. What you wouldn’t give to be able to carry a strand of it around, secured in a locket and resting against your heart, like capturing a sprinkle of stardust to call your own.

“Can I…” you began to ask, trying to swallow down the slight tremble in your voice as you gingerly reached one shaky hand forward. “Can I touch your hair as well?”

At this, Undertaker let out a silky hum of a chuckle, his long fingers finding the nape of your neck and resting there as he replied, “But of course.”

You let your fingertips brush against the silky silver, threading your fingers through and lightly dragging them down, not a single tangle or knot to be found. You wondered how long it had taken him to grow this much hair, how often he must have to brush it to keep it so pristine, how many others had admired or envied it the very same way you were now.

“Would you like to come closer?” he asked next, catching you a little off guard. You let your hand fall back to your lap, his returning to rest on his knee, and your eyes filled with uncertainty. Then he added, “Only if you’d like, of course.”

You scanned his form, unsure exactly what he meant by come closer, though, based on the way he was sitting, you could only really think of one possibility and the mere suggestion alone was enough to make your cheeks heat and your head spin.

The embarrassment must’ve shown on your face, because a quiet laugh trailed after his next exhale as he assured you, “If that’s too much for you you’re still welcome to sit by my side…” And then, knowing you had a habit of accepting challenges, he added on, voice sultry and only slightly sinister, “Though, if you’re worried about your skirts getting in the way, I’d gladly assist you in removing them and—”

“Oh, just hush for once, will you?” you cut him off, growing a little indignant and far more flustered than before. Even so, you still found yourself standing, eying his lap wearily as you approached, both hands curled into tight fists around your skirts, lifting them a little as you went to settle over the tops of his thighs, having to take purchase on his shoulders for balance halfway through assuming this position.

You’d never been this intimately close with another body before, not since you were very small and your mother had scooped you up in her arms and carried you off to bed, your little legs lightly wrapping around her waist and not wanting to let go, wishing she’d let you sleep in her bed to help keep the nightmares away.

But now, being at this age, in this body, and feeling the press of him as you relaxed with your legs straddling his hips, things were much, much different.

His hands brushed against your waist, hovering there before finally settling, giving you time to adjust to the foreign touch. “Is this alright?” he asked, his voice a mere whisper. “If you need more time, I can—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice also quiet, forcing your gaze back up to his, as if to defy your hesitance. “No, this is fine. I’m fine.”

“You know,” he murmured, his lips pressed close to your ear, his breath fanning featherlight over the shell of it, and you could practically hear the way he was suppressing a smirk, “I must say, it really is a surprise how a woman as striking as yourself has gone this long without being spoken for. So which is it? Too particular to find the right partner or too spoiled by being overwhelmed with choice?”

You coughed out an abashed chuckle. “No, nothing like that…” you said. Then, falling more somber, “It’s more like… Being alone has just always been so much easier. I don’t have to answer to anyone. I don’t have to pretend. I get to do as a please whenever I please and…” You flashed him a guilty look. “I guess I never saw myself as the marrying type, so…”

Undertaker stared at you, all that chartreuse alight as if finally seeming to uncover what he’d long been looking for. Then his expression softened and he said, “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Before you had time to think up some kind of rebuttal or rebuke, his fingertips were tracing the hem running up the side of your funeral dress, the dulled touch registering on your hips, then your waist, through your clothes, sending a gentle, ebbing wave of chills over your flesh, a delicate ghost of a gasp just barely sighed through your lips. His other hand came up to caress your neck, thumb brushing tenderly across your jaw, your cheek, allowing you time to decide you enjoyed it and sink deeper into his palm, the cool touch of his skin helping to soothe you.

And then, before you knew it, he was kissing you, taking the rest of your breath away as the hand that had found your waist began to roam, the careful path of his contact curving around to the small of your back, up towards your shoulder blades, your collar bones, down your arm to find the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, brushing against the faint thumping of your wild pulse just to feel the life humming from inside of you.

What surprised you even more was that you were kissing him back, leaning into the warmth of his mouth, chasing his tongue when he playfully tried to pull away, testing to see if you’d follow, if you’d try to seek him out once you got a taste. He let out a low chuckle, putting only enough space between your lips to look you in the eyes, see the way your pupils had blown wide with lust all from some simple touching and kissing alone.

“I wonder…” he murmured, that lilt of mischief stitched back into his tone, “if the other men who attended those parties ever fantasized about having you like this…” He then lightly took your chin between his lithe grip, slowly turning your view to face an old, dusty mirror perched against the wall, exposing the reflection of you straddling his lap, his hands touching you in a way you’d never let another man touch you before, and you felt your entire body catch flame, molten embarrassment welling from within the pit of your stomach and flooding up towards your head, the sudden, stifling heat making you dizzy with desire.

Undertaker sighed a puff of a laugh against the side of your neck before his lips found your throat, sucking a light bruise there, making something within you flutter, arousal flaring to life before settling to a slow, steady roll. And despite wanting to look away, shame halfway to choking you, you couldn’t tear your gaze from the view of your two bodies intertwined like this.

All this time, you’d thought it would be scary, being this vulnerable with someone, giving up that kind of control, but it wasn’t. It was like floating, rising from your body and leaving all the worry behind, allowing your world to become merely yourself, him, and the small, dimly lit room.

It was simple.

It was nice.

And, for once, everything just felt right.

But as his kisses became more messy, more urgent, and his hands were reaching under your skirts to knead at the bit of bare skin available on your upper thigh, his eager fingers hooking under the hem of your stockings, you felt yourself tensing, slipping from the moment as the fear of moving too fast flashed across your thoughts like a lighthouse beacon— just quick enough to warn of the oncoming danger that would befall you if you ventured too close to the rocky shore.

“Is this alright?” he asked, slowing down a little then, and you swore you heard something almost insecure flicker in his voice.

You took in a deep, grounding breath, nodded, and said, “It’s alright… I’ll tell you if it’s not,” and that was all the validation he needed to continue, his cool palms a relief against your heating skin, hands continuing to knead at the plush of your upper thigh, though a little more gently this time, fingertips nearly brushing against where you ran most hot and needy for him, causing a broken whine to escape your throat. Undertaker wondered if you’d ever heard yourself make those kinds of involuntary, beautifully obscene sounds before, if you’d ever pleasured yourself late at night once you finally found yourself alone, or if even the idea of that had been too much for you to bear.

He intended to introduce you to each and every one of your lovely, lustful notes tonight, wanting to discover just exactly what he could do to elicit specific moans or whines. You’d be upset with him if he told you his plan, surely, yet still, he couldn’t help himself.

Similar to how you couldn’t deny yourself a challenge, he had a habit of overindulging himself with his games.

“Wait…” you murmured, pulling away from the cradle of his chest just a fraction. “I want you to…” You swallowed, finding a lump in your throat that stuck like a dry pill, afraid to say what rested on the tip of your tongue. You looked at him through your thick curtain of lashes, almost feeling like you could cry again, so many intense emotions to face in a single day mixing together in your head. “I want you to take my clothes off…” The last half of your request all but withered and died into a pathetic whisper by the time it left your mouth, averting your gaze then.

Part of you expected Undertaker to tease you for your request, to try and rile you just to see the adorable look your face made whenever you were mad at him, but he didn’t. Instead, he hummed out a satisfied note, beginning to strip you of the many layers of your funeral attire one by one until all you were left wearing was your silky underclothes and stockings. He went to remove those as well, but you stopped him before he could, growing bolder in asking for what you wanted when you suggested he let you undress him first.

Unlike you, this was not Undertaker’s first experience with sex. It was, however, the first time he’d allowed someone to see all his scars in the fading daylight, usually preferring to hide them behind the shadows herded in by nightfall and the dimly candle lit rooms of London’s most high-end pleasure houses.

But he supposed this put you both on more equal ground, so he didn’t mind. Plus, he hardly thought you’d find them newsworthy enough to go around sharing to anyone who might ask. He also supposed, like you, he had some things that were complicated to explain too…

“Kiss me…” you sighed, your hands lightly settling back on his shoulders as you now stood mere inches apart, breathing in each other’s oxygen like the thick opium smoke that wastfed though the East End.

That time, neither of you seemed to hesitate. Hitching one of your legs up, a big palm splayed under the back of your thigh to keep it in place over his hip, Undertaker had your back pressed to the wall, the hard length of him that seemed to be growing more impatient by the minute nudging further into you until he couldn’t help but grind against your lace-clad core, pulling one of those delicate, delicious whines from your throat, swallowing it down into his own mouth and trading it for one of his choked-out groans as he pressed his erection even harder against you, both of you hungry— starving— for one another’s bodies by now.

You hadn’t even realized your hand had migrated down between his legs, just barely beginning to cup the bulge of him in your inexperienced little palm, until you felt him twitch beneath his underwear, suddenly gasping and going a little rigid with uncertainty again.

He was kissing you deep, the fervor of it all dying down a little once he sensed your hesitation. “Go ahead,” he panted, holding your chin between his fingers, searching your gaze, pleading with it. “Touch me. It’s ok…”

So you did.

You attempted to stroke what strained through the thin fabric until he just couldn’t take it anymore and reached under the waistband himself to free his cock from its confines, hissing through clenched teeth once it was in his hand, soon passed off into yours.

Truthfully, you were only half sure of what you were supposed to do. You’d heard some of the few ladies you’d grown close to occasionally share— or perhaps overshare— some of the details of their marriages, sex lives included, and whether they were bragging or complaining or just making a comment in jest, you’d picked up bits and pieces here and there throughout the years.

Whatever you were doing though, you seemed to be doing it right, because before long, Undertaker seemed to be losing any composure or control he had left. He braced himself against the wall with his forearm, hunched over you as a thin sheen of sweat began to break out over his pale skin like glazed alabaster, grunts and growls and groans slipping from his lips while you gripped him in your palm, hand sliding easily along his velvety length as more and more of his pearly pre-cum gathered and began to drip down the shaft.

“Fuck—” he swore, and for a moment, you feared you’d hurt him in some way, pausing and looking up at him with an apologetic worry tugging at your features. But then he was smiling at you, chest still heaving with labored breaths, but wearing a glow of pride. He’d meant it earlier when he’d said you kept finding ways to surprise him, but this was on an entirely different level. If he hadn’t already known what you did for a living, he would’ve guessed you hailed from one of London’s aforementioned brothels, the ones that only served the elite or those tied to them.

Though he was sure you still had some things to learn, he was glad he was laying claim to you first.

He’d be lying if he said he’d ever be willing to share you with anyone else after this.

“Don’t look so afraid, my dear,” he cooed, slowly beginning to guide you towards his tiny bedroom nook, your eyes locked on him, trusting he wouldn’t let you trip as you walked backwards, holding his hands to help steady you. “We’re only just getting started…”

Before you knew it, the backs of your knees were hitting the edge of the bed, you collapsing back to the mattress as Undertaker climbed atop you, all that silky silver hair creating a canopy around you as he admired the way you looked splayed out beneath him. It was too bad you were a fragile human, your years so numbered when compared to the countless ones he’d already lived and the countless more he’d experience long after you were gone. He wished there were a way he could keep you like this forever— so beautiful, so his—  but he knew that living souls weren’t as easily frozen in time as things like mementos and photographs.

If only he’d met you a few decades from now. Perhaps by then, he’d have found a way…

Before he could dwell on it for too long though, he became distracted with removing more of your clothes, the last shred of his lost somewhere along the short distance from the kitchen to the bed, and seeing you fully exposed to him now, presented in your rawest, ravishing state, it took his breath away.

He’d seen many bodies in his life, living and dead, only a handful of them on both sides that he’d truly considered stunning. But yours…

Yours was nothing short of divine. 

He wanted to touch every inch of you, learn your figure in a way he’d never forget. He wanted to know that, even long after you were gone someday, he’d still be able to remember the exact shape of your breasts, the raise of your ribs as you drew in breath and the dip of your waist, the soft curve of your tummy and the plushness of your thighs.

He wanted to be able to rewatch this night over and over again in his head, rewinding the film reel until it frayed, each and every frame already burned into his memory.

“Hey…” you spoke, quiet and concerned as you reached up to cup your little palm to his jaw, tracing the line of the scar that cut diagonally across his face by his cheek. “Is something…?”

Before you could utter the word “wrong”, Undertaker cradled his hand over your own, sinking closer into your touch now, soaking in its human warmth, and smiled for a moment, attempting to mask the melancholy behind amusement. “Are you sure you still want to do this?” he asked you, and it was then that any and all lingering uncertainty you had went out like candle flame swallowed by a strong breeze. You nodded, told him you were sure.

A part of you was still scared, but not of him. Just of the unknown.

Feel the fear and do it anyway.

You were choosing to trust him, but once you’d made up your mind about it, there was no going back. That’s just the kind of person you were, the kind of person he’d discovered you to be.

So, trying to help you further relax, he continued to reintroduce you to his touch, discovering the places you liked best and paying special attention there, earning more of those sweet, lilting mewls and whimpers that he’d quickly become so addicted to, until it came time for him to explore the most intimate parts of you, preparing you for what was to come.

“You’re beautiful…” you swore you heard him sigh, your pounding heartbeat drumming in your ears and drowning out the quieter sounds. As soon as he so much as brushed a teasing finger through your soaked folds, still careful to be gentle with you, you let out a choked cry, gripping his biceps for support, needing something— anything— to anchor yourself to.

“Just relax…” he said, voice low and soothing as he applied a little more pressure, spreading your growing slick further around, marveling at the way your sensitive little bud was already pulsing in pleasure, tight hole fluttering in anticipation. But you took a deep breath and tried to follow his instruction, allowing your body to sink further into the mattress. Praising you as he began to massage slow, skillful circles onto your clit, he said, “Just like that… So good, my beautiful girl…”

And then that thick, sticky heat was filling you from the inside again, threatening to spill out. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt before and you didn’t want it to stop. For a moment, you wondered if this was all somehow some sort of very vivid dream, a fantasy, fearing you’d wake up to find you’d never even gone to visit the graves at all. But the way the sensation gripped you, body and mind and soul, was telling you otherwise, every nerve alight with the intensity of it all.

Warning you what he was about to do next might be a little uncomfortable at first, Undertaker slipped one of his slender fingers inside of you, causing you to wince at the slight soreness the sensation provided, but as he slowly pumped it in and out of you, helping you get used to the feeling, eventually you were wet enough that he could insert two, the stretch from his fingers alone causing a small squeak of pain to escape your throat, but still you didn’t want him to stop.

As he began to carefully scissor his digits inside your tight cunt he continued working on stimulating your clit to distract you from the discomfort. The mix of pleasure and pain was almost enough to put you over the edge, your back arching off the bed and your neck craning as you felt the coil winding tight within your core threatening to snap. Gasping out a curse, legs trembling as the crescendo crashed over every nerve in your body, you came undone for the first time that night, the high that filled your veins mixed with the fading adrenaline making your brain melt into a hazy, sated state.

He was whispering something to you then, pressing gentle kisses along your forehead, your temples, your nose, your jaw, as his sweet sentiments were lost amidst the thumping of your pulse between your ears. You exhaled a shuddering sigh, eyes fluttering closed, feeling as if you could drift right off to sleep. But there would be plenty of time for rest later.

Undertaker still wasn’t done with you yet.

Sliding his thick cock between the dewy petals of your folds, he guided you back to the waking world, being the most tender he had with you yet. “Are you still doing alright?” he murmured, brushing a few stray strands of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. He was gazing down at you like he couldn’t even believe you were there, with him, like this, the angel he’d lured into his underworld.

You gave a feeble nod, gasping when you felt the tip of his cock catch on your fluttering little hole. In all truth, you weren’t sure how he was going to fit. You just hoped he’d prepared you well enough, though knew the first time would be the most trying.

“Just breathe…” he instructed, interlocking his fingers with yours, your hands pressed into the mattress on either side of your head. “Take as much time as you need. Just relax…”

As the first inch or two fought its way into your tight entrance, your body reflexively tensed to combat the pain. The stretch of him took your breath away, fragile, sensitive skin feeling as if it were about to tear to allow him more room, teetering on a razor’s edge of arousal and agony. But he was talking you through it, whispering reassuring praises into your ear, waiting until he felt your body adjust to him, rigidity melting away as he continued to pepper featherlight kisses across your skin, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you needed to until the sensation subsided.

Inch by inch, he worked his way deeper, and when you needed him closer, needed his chest pressed to yours to feel the stuttering beat of his heart, he obliged, scooping you up to straddle him again, both of you upright, face to face, him helping you begin to bounce lightly on his cock.

As the pace began to pick up speed, nearly every thrust into you had one of those melodic moans or lilting whines clawing their way up your throat, mouth remaining agape with silent cries as you felt yourself once again approaching that steep edge. With your head thrown back, neck exposed to him, Undertaker took the opportunity to suck a few more bruises into the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse, choking on his next growl as your cunt clenched around him painfully tight.

He gave one more harsh thrust upward into your wet heat, feeling you come undone, glistening arousal staining you both, before forcing himself to pull out, finishing no more than two seconds later as his warm, sticky seed spilled over your stomach and thighs, mingling with the sheen of your pleasure as it mixed between both your bodies.

Both of you were panting, shallow, ragged huffs fanning against each other’s skin as you slumped over him, completely spent, and he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close, never wanting to let you go.

He’d have to, eventually, but for now, he allowed himself to pretend you couldn’t be touched by things like disease or disaster or death, erasing your mortality from his mind, even if it were just for the duration he’d have you in his arms.

Suddenly, he was speaking your name, a gentle breeze of syllables leaving his lips as he rubbed soothing circles against your spine, coaxing you back to consciousness. Without lifting your head from his shoulder, all your limbs heavy, blood flowing slow and sweet as if your veins had been filled with honey, you nuzzled further into the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent.

His question barely registered to you, causing you to mutter out a sleepy, “What…?” which caused him to quietly chuckle, feeling the light mirth rumble through his scarred chest.

“I said,” he repeated, “Are you feeling alright?”

You felt more than alright. You felt fantastic, but not in the loud, excited, energetic kind of way.

More like waking up after a long, much-needed sleep, still floating off the edge of your dreams, feeling tired but fulfilled.

Once the high faded, you were sure you’d feel the soreness, a dull ache already beginning to pulse between your legs, but you didn’t necessarily mind.

It would just be another reminder of him and the time you’d spent together.

And, truthfully, there was so much you wanted to say then. Like how you’d never thought you’d be able to connect with someone in this way, feel completely safe in their hands, even feel— dare you say it— loved.

But instead, all you managed in reply was, “I’m ok…” before you felt sleep swooping back in to claim you.

As you drifted off that time, you briefly wondered what a life with him would be like. If you’d eventually have to learn to call this curious place home, a cemetery sprawled across your backyard, a closet full of funeral clothing. Or if perhaps he’d be willing to trade some of his darkness for the pale light of your apartment, if he’d remember to water your flowers while you were at work and leave scraps out for the stray cats that came begging by your front door.

And if those within your circle— the ones who were always badgering you about when you were getting married or if anyone was currently courting you— would be surprised if you told them that, yes, you’d started seeing someone despite the numerous occasions you’d written off such partnerships as just not for you…

They’d surely have some opinions on the matter, and that would even be before they saw him standing at your side.

But let them gossip, let them talk, you figured.

You didn’t care what people said, what they thought. You just wanted to be able to see him again, to be with him again, and for a little while, at least, discover all the things fear had once convinced you that you’d never get to experience for yourself.

***

A few years after your first night spent with him, having had many more in all the time between, fate had called you away, choosing to relocate further up north once your mother grew ill, spending her remaining days by her side. Once she was gone and you found yourself back in funeral blacks, for some reason, you’d decided to stay. You’d written Undertaker, of course, and for that first year apart the back and forth correspondence had been quite regular.

You awaited his letters with a childlike giddiness, excitement unfurling its wings within your heart whenever a black envelope sealed with shining silver wax appeared among your mail, already beginning to tear it open before you’d even gone back inside from retrieving that day’s delivery from the mailbox down the hill from your late mother’s home, the house you now called your own.

You’d sit down to write him back the moment you finished reading the last word of his looping cursive scrawl, elegance and sharpness somehow occupying the same space.

But then, after so much time away from London, away from the life you’d grown so accustomed to, you’d found yourself growing lonely. Only, this time, instead of the dull ache your former solitary life had nurtured within you, the pain was now a knife’s stabbing edge, carving a hole out in your heart until it nearly became too much to bear.

Until you’d eventually met someone. Another man whose hair was just beginning to grey at the temples, yet nothing like Undertaker’s silver shine, and whose eyes were a deep forest green, not the startling chartreuse of your former lover’s gaze. 

Six months later, you wrote back to London to inform Undertaker of the wedding that would be held in the spring. He’d congratulated you, though was glad it was only on paper— if he’d been forced to fake a smile and sweeten his words to you in person you would’ve known it was a lie, seen the heartbreak etched onto his face as obviously as one of those jagged, shining scars— and after that, the flow of the letters slowly came to a halt.

You had ten beautiful years with your husband until death’s kiss touched him, leaving you a widow and, once again, alone.

By then, the north had become so small, its claws closing around you until it began to resemble a prison, a cage.

You fled, returning to London, unsure whether you were running from things you wanted to forget or towards a flame you thought you might rekindle.

But in all that time away, you’d gotten married. Perhaps it was unfair to assume Undertaker hadn’t done the same.

However, once you found him, grateful the funeral parlor was still right where you’d left it nearly fifteen years ago, you entered the shop, expecting to be greeted by a man who was all at once familiar to you and also not, surprised to find him just as you’d left him like an image out of an old photograph.

You’d expected time to have touched him, run its fingers through his hair, turning silver to ivory, leaving the first signs of laugh lines cupping his smile and crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, similar to the ways it had begun to touch you. The sight should’ve brought you comfort but instead you found yourself feeling…

Uneasy.

The years had passed for Undertaker as quickly as the season’s had changed for you. But as you inched, slowly but surely, towards the winter of your life, there wasn’t even so much as a veil of frost creeping in to cover him.

Somehow, he had remained exactly the same, no matter how many days, weeks, months, or years went by.

You’d planned to smile and say something like, “It’s been a while, so I understand if you don’t recognize me,” but what came out of your mouth instead was a gasp and, “You’re—” before Undertaker stopped you.

“—Just about to sit down for some afternoon tea,” he filled in, his grin widening as if he’d been expecting you. And then, before you even had a chance to process the theories that were beginning to blossom in your brain, each one more ridiculous and paranormal than the last, he asked, “Would you care to join me?”

Your mouth hung open, any and all remaining questions dying on your tongue, a few sputtering squeaks catching in your throat before you closed your lips, cleared your throat and said, “Alright then.”

The time you spent sitting at that little table, legs nearly intertwined once more as you sipped at your cup of Earl Grey, two cubes of sugar stirred in, made you feel like no time— not years or over a decade— had passed at all since you’d seen him last.

Nothing had changed— truly nothing. Not his looks or his humor or the way being around him just made you feel calm.

He’d been in the middle of regaling some amusing tale to you from while you’d been away when all of a sudden you realized your eyes were welling with tears. His bout of laughter died down to a stark stoicism once he noticed, leaning forward, reaching out to rest his hand over yours, the familiarity of his cool touch only making more tears race down your cheeks in shimmering pairs.  He asked, “My love, whatever is the matter?”

You choked on a sob, gave his hand a squeeze. “I just missed you…” you admitted, trying to smile, though it just came out crooked and sad.

With his other hand, fingers partially warmed from holding his cup of tea, he lightly brushed away your tears, rubbing the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, soothing you until your sobbing subsided.

Then he said, “I’ve missed you, too… In more ways than you can even imagine.”

You felt a new wave of sorrow threaten to wrack through you. Something akin to guilt. To shame. To mourning the life you could’ve had if only you’d come back sooner. If only you’d stayed.

“But please,” he continued, gazing upon you with concern now. “If you’re weeping on my behalf, don’t. Now that you’re here, we can just pick up where we left off… A human life is only so long, after all…”

You looked at him, half confused, half afraid, and he almost told you then. Told you that he wasn’t like you, wasn’t burdened with the fragile shortness of a mortal life. But he didn’t.

He wanted you to ask first. Wanted to hear you say the words you’d been wondering since the very first night you met.

And you would, eventually.

But for now you just wanted him to hold you while you finished your tea and try and make up for so much lost time.

***

Twenty years later, you were unmarried, plagued by the illness that had claimed your mother, and had long given up tracking down shocking stories to fuel your own morbid curiosities.

But you were not alone.

You’d remained in the funeral shop, though made several more cozy additions to its decor over the years— a couple little houseplants dotting the windowsills, your mother’s cookbook placed up in the cabinets of the little kitchenette, lace hems and embroidery on the pillowcases fluffed upon the freshly made bed.

This place had become home before you’d ever even made the decision to stay, though perhaps that was more due to Undertaker’s proximity than anything else.

Even as your joints grew stiff and your movement became sluggish, your hair greying and your eyesight failing, Undertaker still remembered to remind you how beautiful he thought you were, how much he loved you, how you’d always be his most favorite girl. He’d dance with you by the light of the moon, leading you in a lulling waltz as he hummed out a melancholy tune. He’d carry you to bed when he found you sleeping in a chair, whatever mystery novel you were reading open face-down on your lap.

To experience love in this way was the greatest gift either of you had ever received, the devotion binding at times, yet there was still one last secret you had to uncover before you didn’t have the chance to anymore.

It wasn’t until you were nearing your life’s end that you finally asked him, “What are you?” and he actually gave you the truth.

“So you’re the dark cloaked figure who comes to guide souls into the afterlife, are you?” you joked after he’d given a surprisingly detailed explanation of what he was— what he’d been, before he’d defected— and what he’d continue to be no matter how long he tried to hide behind the mask of the eccentric funeral director. You coughed out a weak chuckle from where you lay tucked into bed, reaching out to run your rigid, wrinkled fingers through his long silver locks. Dreamily, quietly, as if only to yourself, you muttered, “I should’ve known…”

“I wanted to tell you…” he admitted, “Before, I mean…”

“No,” you said, “it’s better you didn’t. I don’t think I would’ve understood back then. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

Now, with your death so imminent, learning his identity actually made the thought of your final breaths more comforting. Because you now knew dying would feel like falling asleep in the arms of a lover, gentle and safe. Protected. Cared for.

And when that fateful day finally came to pass, it was Undertaker who claimed your soul, wanting to be the first and last person to lay their hands on it, not intent on allowing any of those dispatch drones to touch it with their sharp tools and sterile indifference. 

He dressed your body, laid you in your coffin, and dug your grave. Though it wasn’t in the cemetery among all the other headstones. It was right outside the kitchen window, where your houseplants continued to grow, the sun rising to shed its soft golden light upon the room through the eastern window and bathing the place in deep amber as it lowered below the horizon in the west, your favorite place to sit and drink your morning tea and read in evenings.

Losing you was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but whenever he was feeling lonely, he’d wander out and look down at your name etched into the smooth, pale stone, read your dates to himself, reciting them like a prayer.

You had been so much more than just an epitaph, once upon a time, but at least now Undertaker could come visit you as often as he liked, and tucked beneath his coat, pressed safe behind the glass of his lockets, was a strand of your hair, a piece of you he could carry with him for the rest of his days.

***

(A big thank you to @anxious-chick for your request! I hope it’s ok I sort of took your concept and ran a marathon with it lol, but once I started developing some plot I just got really into it and couldn’t help myself haha. Thank you for being so patient with me as well, I sincerely hope it was worth the wait.

Anyway, thank you to everyone for reading. I’ve been wanting to write for Undertaker again for a long time and I’m glad this opportunity presented itself. Hope everyone has a good day and remembers to be kind to themselves. See you next time <3)

#kodis requests #undertaker #undertaker x reader #undertaker x you #undertaker x y/n #kuroshitsuji undertaker #undertaker black butler #black butler undertaker #black butler #black butler fanfiction #black butler x reader #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji fanfic #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x you #kuroshitsuji x y/n

[yan-lorkai]

Hello , i hope your doing great . Would you please do a scenario for yandere undertaker and yandere sebastian (separately) x fem reader. Reader doesn't want to marry them so she tries to run away away at the wedding day but fails and gets captured ? Thank you ❤

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, fem reader, kidnapping, implied murder, threats.

Marriage is nothing more than a union between two people before God, so for Sebastian this does not carry the same meaning. For him, marriage only symbolizes what in his conception is already true: that you are his in every way and now the marriage certificate proves it. Even if you oppose to this marriage, Sebastian doesn't care.

Although he would love for you to give your opinion on the decorations or the type of cake you would like have at the wedding, he knows you are still in denial so he plans everything himself. From the hanging chandelier, to the flowers in the bouquet, to the dress you're wearing that he sewed himself, every little detail meticulously planned to be perfect.

He knows that humans like to be surrounded by their parents, relatives and friends on a special day like these, and if you had behaved they would all really be here. But it's better this way, just you, him and the priest who officiated the ceremony. That way he doesn't have to kill your parents and friends in front of you when you shout and scream about everything you've been through with him. Even though part of him wished this had happened, with no one else out there waiting for you, looking for you, praying, you would have only him. Only him.

Maybe he would kill them and return to your side, blood dripping from his hands and face as he kisses and touches you. Maybe he would even tell you what he did and how he did it to observe your reactions. If you like to act like he's the biggest evil in the world, maybe he'll give you a reason to hate and fear him. Maybe, but he won't act on those thoughts if you don't force his hand. The same hand with which he fixes your hair and makes your makeup, circling you to get a view of you from all sides.

"I will wait for you at the altar, my dear," His tone was soft, but there was an implicit promise of death in his eyes, a bloodthirsty glint that you had been able to witness many times before. Just for a second longer Sebastian stands there, looking at you through the mirror and then he smiles and leaves.

Your heart beats quickly inside your chest, it beats like it has never beat before. Your nerves are on edge, but you have to calm down and take a deep breath. You know what Sebastian is, you know how strong he is, but you know that an opportunity like that is unique and you must take advantage of it. You must escape now.

Running away isn't hard, well, actually it is a little, because you're wearing a dress and high heels but you kick them all and hold them hem of your dress up. And you run. You run as you never ran on your life. You know Sebastian is busy with tons of things, plus you are supposed to come a little late, as you are the bride. But you clearly underestimate him.

He may not be with you physically but as a demon he has his ways of knowing where you are and how you are, he can feel your heart beating, he can taste your fear and apprehension. And he loves it, he loves knowing your fear him, to know you are opposed to this marriage, given time he knows you come around.

But for now he enjoys the chase. He excuse himself for a moment to go meet you halfway through your attempting escape. You can hear his beautiful little laugh, can see his shadows but when you look behind your shoulder there's nothing there. He is playing with you, getting you even more frightened before trapping you in his arms so tight not even air can arrive at your lungs. His hand closes on your throat as he look at you, eyes red with animalistic excitement. "Dear me, look what we have here." He muses, watching you breathe hard, beads of sweat running down your forehead.

"Sebastian... What a pleasure to see here." Your reply is sarcastic, weak. But it makes him smile as he caress your face lovingly, as lovingly as a demon can, though you feel dirty at every touch, at every moment you're trapped under his creepy stare.

"You run away like a little lost mouse so I've came to get you back right where you belong. Don't make things harder than necessary, darling." It's his final warning. You know, you can feel in your bones that if you are to try anything again he would retaliate.

He has been doing a great job at keeping his demonic tendencies in check even when you snarled and yelled at him those past few weeks. But there truly nothing you could do? There was nothing you could try? His hand held yours, guiding you, the oppressive silence making you even more uncomfortable.

And when the priest asked "do you accept this man as your lawful and only husband?" All you could do was stare at him, tongue numb, members tired before answering. "I do."

And like a mouse, you were caught in Sebastian's trap. One you could never escape.

⠀⠀

Marriage. What a strange concept. Why people get married, that's what Undertaker thought when checking humans' memories. They all got married, they all had children, they all had their ups and downs together, yet they loved each other. Is love really that essential for humans? He didn't know, but he had a lot of questions to ask. And many of them answered themselves when you appeared in his life.

You had recently lost someone and like a wounded bird, you walked into his funeral home. It was like destiny. It was like a lever had been pulled in his brain, like he could finally see colors and feel the warmth of the sun on his skin after so long without those things. He was drawn to you, enchanted by your words. And everything else was history.

Undertaker knew that humans are fragile and fearful, and he tried to woo you the right, human way. Giving you flowers, walking with you, hearing you talk. And everything would have worked out if you hadn't discovered that he wasn't human, that he was a Shinigami and desperately tried to get away from him. He didn't want to kidnap nor threaten you but he grown desperate. He didn't want to lose the feelings you gave him, he didn't want to let you go. So he did what was necessary, he gave you a new home, he gave you books and lines for you to sew and weave if you wanted. He gave you everything you wanted but your freedom.

A marriage was bound to happen because he wanted you to experience this little enjoy. But also because he wanted to tie you to him even more, to make you his wife and be able to truly calls his wife. The ceremony is not as beautiful and organized as Sebastian's, but he supposes is the thought that counts. He buys you a really cute white dress and make-up, and he lets you get ready alone. As the bride and the groom can't see each other till they're both on the altar or something like this, honestly he doesn't understand this saying. Why can't he see you? He wants to see you!

But he controls himself, he has to. He stands on the altar with the priest at his side. He hums and waits impatient. Meanwhile you is running away so hard that everything else turns into a blur, people, voices, sounds, smells, everything is a blur as you run and pray for someone to save you. Anyone. Tears flow from your eyes when in the distance you see his silvery long hair and dangerous green eyes staring at you. You tremble, biting your lip so hard not to scream that you can taste blood on your tongue, you force your legs to work more than they can handle, you're sure later on your feet would be filled with blisters but you don't care about it now.

Though it's not enough. It's not enough and you hated it. You hear him mumbling while he catches up with you, a part of you is surprised he isn't actually going to pull his scythe from wherever he keep it and reap your soul right here and now. The part of you who is still in love with him wavers for a second, you think only for a second if it's worth to try, if you actually can win against him, if can actually escape and your hesitation is all he needs for him to close his arms around your body tightly. He breathes hard, warm air hitting your neck as you feel him still against you, afraid of losing you. Afraid of losing everything.

"Why did you run, sugar? Wasn't I good enough for you? Didn't I treat you right?" He was whispering right at your ear. And that was much more scarier than having him screaming or having him threatening to hit you. "Don't you love me anymore? That can't be, right? You must be a little scared, oh sweetheart I know marriage is a big step but everything's going to be fine. I can take care of everything, leave all the work to me."

As if to made you pity him even more, you could little tears streaming down his face and onto your back, timidly, slowly. A sour taste lingers on your mouth. You can't escape now. You can't escape now that he is so on alert, every little move you make would be under his eyes. You can't escape now but you certainly can play your card right. And the right thing to do now was surrender yourself. Surrender and wait for an opportune moment.

For now you let him fix your dress and hair carefully, and then drag you to that damned altar. It's suffocating, insufferable. And there's nothing you can do about it. He holds your hand as he slips the ring into your finger and look at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"I do." You say as you stare at him. In the future your attempt would be successful but for now you may entertain him.

#yandere sebastian michaelis #yandere undertaker #yandere undertaker x reader #yandere sebastian michaelis x reader #yandere sebastian x reader #yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #undertaker x reader #sebastian x you #undertaker x y/n #sebastian x reader #sebastian x y/n #undertaker x you #tw yandere #tw arranged marriage #lorkai headcanons #female reader #fem reader #male yandere

[todoroki-waifu]

Headcanons about Undertaker, William, and Lau with short gender neutral s/o?

Note: As always, thank you for the request!

Warning: Gender neutral reader.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 439

-------

~Undertaker~

He likes to make jokes here and there.

Might watch you struggle a bit to get a good laugh, but ends up helping you.

Does he change anything in his home to accommodate you?

Nah. He doesn't. 

He doesn't like changing too many things around, plus you know him and his obsession with laughing. 

Be aware that if someone else cracks jokes about you being short, he's going to laugh. 

Undertaker eventually apologizes and tells you that the only reason why some people might make fun of you is because they're jealous.

They're jealous that they don't fit perfectly in his arms the way you do and that he can easily kiss you when he's sitting while you're standing. 

If someone does take their teasing too far, he won't be laughing anymore. 

And you know that isn't a good thing.

~William~

Doesn't think much of it. 

Honestly forgets about yours and his height difference.

So when you're over his place, everything is set to his level.

William does eventually remember to put certain things at a more convenient placement. 

He's a serious man so he wouldn't be making any jokes about you being short.

But will poke a person with his shears if they offend you.

Treats you like an equal, but again, forgets that there are certain things you need help with. 

Like that time when he asked you to grab the tea from one of the cabinets and of course it happens to be at the highest point. 

When he comes to check what was taking a while, he sees you attempting to dangerously climb on a chair to reach the tea. 

Yeah, he wasn't going to let that happen again.

Also, when you're both cuddling, he secretly likes when you embrace him from behind. He's not sure why, but it feels comforting for him. 

~Lau~

Short people problems? What are those?

Lau made sure to make everything convenient to you.

He's had people readjust cabinets and shelves in yours and his home.

Even if something was out of reach, there was always someone nearby to help you. Lau's told you multiple times to use them so you didn't have to trouble yourself.

If you're both out in town, he has his assistants following you and him with the purpose of aiding you.

Lau tells you constantly to hold onto him whenever you're out together. 

Feels that people might take advantage of your height.

But he'd never allow it.

#black butler headcannons #kuroshitsuji headcannons #undertaker fluff #undertaker headcannons #undertaker x reader #undertaker x you #undertaker x y/n #undertaker imagines #william t spears fluff #william t spears x reader #william t spears x you #william t spears imagines #william t spears headcannons #william t spears x y/n #lau x reader #lau headcannons #lau fluff #lau x y/n #lau x you #lau imagines

[embervolkan]

Ello poppets, back with another snippet of our favorite white haired reaper boy heh. Thought I’d make it spicier this time. Hope you enjoy <3

Minors DNI

Mornings were peaceful to wake up to With Undertaker. The way he gently massaged his fingers into your scalp. The way he gently carasses your cheek and lips. His warm breath tickling your neck as he whispers how beautiful you look sleeping peacefully in his arms. His soft hands gently roaming your body , waking you up slowly.

“ Rise in shine my doll” Undertaker said in a raspy, deep tone. You felt Goosebumps feeling his hands trail down to your hips and thighs. His fingertips and nails scratching you gently. A soft moan mixed with a sigh leaving his mouth as he laid his head on your shoulder, “ So warm” he said with a smirk, moving your nightgown up. You whined feeling his hands go lower slightly opening your legs. His cold touch making you shiver.

His fingers teased your soft and warm skin. The heat building up in your stomach making you squirm under his touch. You slowly opened your eyes seeing his eyes glow with lust. His lips opening slightly as he smiled. Moving your body closer to him. His hands gripping your thighs.

You moaned softly turning your body to face him, you opened your eyes placing your hands on his face, bringing his lips to yours. He hummed in approval, trailing his hands up your body. His cold hands gently rubbing your back. You let out a small gasp as undertaker bit the bottom of your lip. Trialing his lips to your neck as you laid on your back, his body shifting to be on top of you.

You closed your eyes to the feeling of his lips sucking your skin, his teeth gently grazing along your neck and shoulder. Your fingers tangling into his velvet silver hair. He grunts softly sucking harder on your skin as you let out another moan.

He enjoyed the sounds you made. The feeling of your nails digging into his back, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist. Your heartbeat ringing in his ear. His lips and tongue enjoying the taste of you. No matter how many times he had you. He needed more. Needed to feel more of your warm body. Needed to hear you moan his name, scream his name until you could barely use your throat.

It was just you and him now. The sheets pulled away, your clothes thrown to the floor. His mixed with yours as the bed frame shook with the weight of you two.

Your hands latched around his neck as he thrusted into you, your eyes closed in pleasure, your head thrown back as he kept his lips on your neck. His hands gripping the bed as his eyes trialed up to see your state.

He shivered hearing you groan his name. You laid your head back to his view now. Your eyes calling to him as you opened them, seeing his glowing lustful green eyes. His pace picked up as you gasped. Letting go of his neck, gripping the sheets. He chuckled with a low growl, grabbing your hands with his right hand. Pinning your arms above you.

You whined letting out a choked moan, feeling his left hand lift your legs. Putting them over his shoulder. Your body jolting to the sudden pleasure of him going deeper.

His free hand trialing along your chest and stomach. You felt a shiver come over you as he moaned softly, smiling, “ That’s a good doll” he said in his low and raspy tone.

Your eyes widened as you felt the heat on your cheeks and stomach build up. Words not being able to come out of your mouth. He Pulled you onto his lap rocking your hips with his. Your lips connecting again. Until everything went still. A sudden burst of heat filling you. You whined into his neck catching your breath. His hands rubbing your back slowly,

“ Morning poppet”

“ morning love”

#undertaker x reader #undertaker x y/n #black butler x reader #black butler

[sunnydazzy]

The Undertaker and William Afton are the same kind of Baby Girl just in different fonts. One is Comic Sans and the other is Papyrus.

#black butler #black butler manga #black butler anime #undertaker black butler #black butler memes #black butler funny #undertaker x y/n #fnaf #fnaf william afton #william afton

[yourfifitherealone]

Poison Tasting

(Non-binary friendly)

Cw: cut off name calling/cursing

"Young highness!! Undertaker invited You, Sebastian and Y/N to a gathering!" Mey-Rin card from the long echoey halls. She tripped over air per usual and tripped into the room. But of course Sebastian catches the klutz and she falls into a deep blush.

'This is sooo repetitive. This happens like every week!' You thought

"What kinda Butler would I be if I just let her fall?" Sebastian whispers with a smirk.

"Stop reading people's minds di-"

"Give me that!" Ciel shouts as he puts out his hand. Sebastian clears his throat, "Yes young Master. Here." He looks at the letter and then messily opens it leaving paper scraps all over the ground Finny has to clean.

"It's at 8:00 apparently. You have no choice or voice on the matter. You are coming with me. Have I made myself clear?"

We nodded and Sebastian added a "Yes, Master." And we scurried off to our business elsewhere.

When the hands of the clock hit 7:45 we started getting ready. Ciel wanted to shower and you were stuffing your face with cookies just in case the food there that wasn't to your taste.

"We're leaving! Everyone else's remaining, KEEP THE MANOR. STABLE! Do you understand?"

"YES CIEL!"

Sebastian opens the car door for me and Ciel then Ciel harshly opened the double doors to the building. All the noise stops as everyone stares.

"Oh there you are. Greetings Ciel and Butler and.....Y/n~"Undertaker says bowing. You roll your eyes then you Ciel practically jumps up to slap you across the cheek. You stare at him contemplating his demise but realize you AND Sebastian need that soul. You fix your posture and suit and take a seat at a two people table isolated from the rest. The conversation starts back up again with the partnership of the glass cups and plates clinking with each other due to the forks, and the toast to a long live.

"That looked painful.." the retired reaper says with a pained face. "Yep...little punk" you hissed as you touched the bruised side of your face. 'why the fuck do his slaps hurt so much. It basically feels like a punch.' you thought. "I bet it does" he whispers taking a seat across from you. "Stop reading my mind." "Anyways- im glad you came, I wanted to see you. I really missed you since-ahh!" His seat scoots back while some average rich guy pulls Undertakers seat and stands in the chairs previous place, "Hello, do you wanna come back to my place...I'll pay you," He whispers with a ugly 'im trying to hard' smirk. A few guys behind him laughed. "1. I'm working 2. Fuck off" and he walked of looking down and his friends followed.

"Ahem. Where were we?" Undertaker shyly said pulling his chair back to the table. "Nah that ruined my whole mood. If you don't mind, can I be alone?" You asked. He sighed and nodded "I hope that incompetent man and Ciel didn't ruin your night too much..." Then he left with his black cloak dragging behind him.

"Attention please," some dude shouted while hitting the glass lightly with a fork. "An announcement must be made to show gratitude for the person that made this possible, Undertaker." Clapping and yelping fell onto your already annoyed ears bad enough as a demon you were weirdly sensitive to loud sounds.

"Y/N come sit at the table with the rest of us, will you?" Sebastian asks, knowing you didn't want to. You sigh and sit next to Undertaker. "If you will enjoy the drink I made for each acquired taste. I did read your drinking preferences and got creative with what I saw I hope you all enjoy." Undertaker announced. You almost rolled your eyes but remembered your mistake and just clenched your fist repeatedly remembering your embarrassment.

The room either bit into their food first or took a big gulp or sip from their glass. Dinner went by really quick everyone was laughing as you were still upset, you were fighting the urge to laugh at some jones or people choking on foods and drinks. But when the plates were almost clean everyone started coughing... bad. Choking and people grabbing their throats, people falling off their chairs, hitting the tables. Sebastian's eyes went wide as he asked if Ciel was feeling well, "Yes Sebastian. But just in case let's get out of here." They started leaving but Undertaker kept you back. "Hey um I'm sorry your night didn't go as planned. I won't lie, I did this to spend time with you, cheer you up." "You..poisoned those people for me?" "Uh yes?"

You pull him by his stupid cloak and kissed him. It lasted pretty long when you pulled back he looked shocked and was blushing. "Hehe. I guess this day wasn't too bad right Y/n?" "Whatever. Let's go to your house."

#undertaker x you #kuroshitsuji #undertaker kuroshitsuji #black butler undertaker #undertaker #undertaker x reader #nonbinary #nonbinary reader #Nonbinary Y/N #Undertaker x y/n #Undertaker x non-binary reader #Undertaker x non-binary y/n #Black Butler

[melinoelliones]

BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK 

Say hello to my husband <3 I was tryna wait till October to do Black Butler shit but now I gotta.... 

Reminder, how I interpret these characters may be different to how YOU interpret them, don’t jump me if you dislike what I say. X fem and X gn reader

This is more on the Undertaker before his ass takes off the hat side, so the jokey cheeky Undertaker. ALSO MANGA SPOILERS FOR THE LETTER W!! 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s probably giggling to himself and mocking the noises and phrases you said during sex LMAOOOOO. Really tho he’ll defo pull the blankets over you and feed you one of them dog bone biscuits, kisses in abundance, nothing too crazy as he will probably leave while you sleep do to fuck knows what.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves our whole body, he examines it like crazy and he says it’s so “he can fit us for a coffin one day”...... I feel like he loves our throat though 100%

On him, he loves his hands and he takes VERY good care of them, fresh set n everything we all saw that shit

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Enjoys doing it on your entire front, all of it, top to bottom

Also loves it down your throat, you can never take it all at once so watching it trickle down the corners of your mouth alongside your spit and tears is everything to him

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Enjoys doing stuff while he has customers present, if you make a noise or people get suspicious he’ll laugh or do something stupid to get people off it

He has shamelessly got off to the thought of you, maybe even your underwear

He begs and he enjoys doing it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is quite experienced I’ll be honest

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Riding in all ways possible, he wants you on him, grinding up against him whilst he helps you. Watching your needy face try to take everything in has him grinning like a crazy man

Missionary where your legs are over your head pretty much. You pushing his hair to the side as he’s panting and whimpering slightly, you know he’s close but he won’t stop

Any position where you are half hanging out a coffin, kinda like stuck in a wall but your stuck half out a coffin? He probably made a custom one JUST for this. Hearing your moans echo off the walls of the coffin keeps him going.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very goofy, keeps the jokes going THROUGHOUT

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s pretty wild down there imma be real

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is always making jokes and sometimes being cocky but he’ll always show an intimate side straight after

“F~Fuck just like that, please please keep going” he’d choke out laughing, mocking what you had just moaned out. “Don’t give me that face, I want to hear more of it” he’d laugh once more at your pout, pulling you into a kiss whilst pushing deeper into you.

Sum like that

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

A lot and he has NO shame in it. It’s pretty shocking how often he can do it. Sometimes he’ll stay pent up just to get off when he knows you’re coming home as he knows you love when he’s a whimpering n babbling mess, maybe you’ll even decide to help him out?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Blindfolds, he loves to mess with ALL of your senses while you can’t see

Knife kink and blood but its SUBTLE. You may or may not have seen him store away a bit of your blood though, wonder what he’s saving that for…..

Restraints, wants to tie you up around his shop

Toys for both of you, watching you desperately cry out to cum as he keeps turning off the vibe

Choking, he enjoys doing it while thrusting into you with full force, hearing you choke out moans and mumbles while he tightens his grip

Dacryphilia for sureeee, would examine your face and wipe your tears while fucking into you with no remorse. Even lets out a giggle or two while at it 

“Well would you look at that, you’re crying my dear, such a pretty specimen indeed. Cmon you can hold out for me, just a bit longer and i’ll make you feel so so good”

Not sure if its a kink but pussy eating. He will sit there for as long as he can just eating you out till you're completely numb from the waist down. 

"You haven't used your safeword yet you've cum 4 times in a row, is it too much for you yet hehe? Cmon, let me wipe those tears, you're too pretty to cry. Now how about I make it 6 times, or even 10 AHA, can you take all that my sweet sweet doll? Let's see shall we?" he'd smirk whilst shoving a couple digits into your already sopping core, tongue already making its way to your swollen clit. He would go on all night long if he could.

L = Location (favourite places to do they do)

Every corner of his store, if you can see it, you've done it there. Favourite would probably be on his desk though.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

YOU! JUST YOU! You are something he’s never seen before and the way you make him feel is unmatched.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Anything outside the shop or on ONE specific coffin.... Whats in there?

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a munch, yes I said it

Begs to have you on his face, even if that beg is in riddles or him twisting the narrative

“Hehe cmon, you know you want to, have a seat my dear, it's all yours”

“I want to taste you just once more, cmon don’t be shy, I won’t bite, unless you want me to hehe” 

He also loves receiving too though, you under his gown, even when customers are in and he’ll be giggling while starting to fuck your face on the other side of the desk

“Aha, look at you, you did brilliantly. You barely made a peep whilst they were here, such a special specimen indeed” he’d coo, pulling back his cloak to ease you off his cock, your tears mixed with his release rolling down your lower face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s cheeky as fuck. Would start slow, then speed up to a perfect pace then as you are close slow all the way back down, to the point where it's technically edging and you can’t even get off. I can hear him giggling now 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He says “Come on my love, we can make it quick” then ya’ll are at it for an hour. Ultimate LIAR. It gets boring in his shop so ya’ll still do it often anyway 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Hell yeah but he knows you will never get caught. Just for entertainment you defo tried to get caught but he covered it up swiftly

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for a hot minute, like 5+ rounds. With his personality people could think otherwise but absolutely not.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

A sucker for a toy. He defo made a pocket pussy using YOURS, so when you aren’t with him he has a replica but he knows it's not exactly the same. Also has a vibe, he has sensitive nipples and we take FULL advantage of that

He loves to use toys on you too though, watching how they make your body react is quite fascinating. He can tell the difference between fake and his real thing though and he adores it, your needy face begging for the real thing is everything. Only he can make you feel certain ways

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Too much, but the orgasms he makes you reach after are always worth it

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When he’s seriously into it he only grunts and dirty talks, otherwise it's the opposite, whimpering and cursing under his breath

“How does that feel my dear? You like it deep don’t you”

“Your body takes it so well, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep g~going much longer”

“Listen to yourself, all this dirty talk from such a sweet specimen?”

“A girl like you should be walking the streets of Soho, yet here you are taking the cock of an Undertaker. How did I get so lucky to have the dirtiest of them all stroll through my doors?”

“Aha, keep going love, i’m not finished just yet”

W = Wild card (a random dirty headcanon for the character)

Would consider making you into a puppet when you die and keeping you for…. Personal reasons

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Dude is pretty big so imma say 8/9 inches, more on the slenderish side but veiny

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Unusually high

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He doesn’t, he’ll pretend to but go off once you’re asleep. Dudes got things….. to do.......

#the undertaker #undertaker #undertaker x reader #undertaker x you #undertaker x reader smut #undertaker x you smut #black butler #black butler smut #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #black butler x female reader #black butler x reader #black butler x reader smut #black butler x you smut #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader smut #undertaker black butler #undertaker black butler smut #the undertaker black butler #meli noel work's

[fanfictionsworld]

what if reader is having a very bad day and when they goes back home, Undertaker/Sebastian greets them and maybe tease them like usual but their s/o burst out crying? what would they react?

Sad reader/gender natural which i hope i wrote well/Undertaker x reader/Sebastian x reader/some fluff/just emotions that are beaing expressed in a strange way or is just me not knowing how to express my emotions/if this comes out weird pleas forgive me i am not good at telling people that i am sad/

Today was just not one of your happy days.

Its like that no matter what you try to do,you just could not cheer your self up.

Even some happy music could not change it.

Some thing in the back of your head just keeps putting you on the edge.

You can seem to stop it and its irritating you very much.

You are usually in check with your emotions and you proud your self on that.

I mean if everybody knew that you would feeling sad that would draw attention to you and you really do not want that.

Especialy with Sebastian who would literally trap you in his embrace until you tell him whats wrong.

But today was different you just could control your self,you just wanted to cry nothing else.

Its not like anything was wrong you just felt empty thats all.

Sebastian would make a big deal out of it if he saw you sad,which you did not want.

So as soon as you heard the front door of you apartment open,you pulled your self together,came out of your room and faced him.

You were smiling,saying hello and how was his day,etc.

Sebastian sensed something was wrong,but for now just chose to ignore it.

His focuse was now on a children's coloring book at the table.

You paint when something is bothering you,but he does not know that.

,,Darling,why is there a childrens coloring book at your table?

,,Are not perhaps too old for that,or maybe i am am falling for a baby,hm?"

That was it even though you knew he was just joking something about that seem to upset you,but you just do not no why.

And in the middle of the kitchen you brust out crying and you can seem to stop.

Your breath is heavier and you just can not stop your self,you feel like passing out,but strong arms catch you.

Sebastian lifts you up carring you to the room.

Upon entering he sets you down on your bed and his kises seems to calm you down.

You can not look at him you turn to the other side of the bed.

zou can hear a deep sigh from him and a large weight pulling you.

He has hugged you and know you cry even more.

,,You know i sensed something is wrong from the moment i walked in,but i thought nothing of it choosing to talk to you about it later,but if my teasing about the colouring book made cry you have my deepest apology my dear."

You wipe your tears take a deep breath and try to gather some strength to speak to him.

,,Its not your fault i do not care if you made fun of me for the colouring book i just had a really tough day its not like anything happened its just...its like..there something but there is not...i just i do not know how to explain it you know and i did not want you to worry because its nothing its just that its something and thats something is nothing and it would be stupied of me to say hey i am upset,sad and on the average of bearking down beacuse of something,but that something is nothing."

,,Darling if you are upset,sad or on the average of breaking down you should tell me,you should trust me about your feelings,whatever it is i will help you even if it is nothing and never say that your feelings are a problem to me beacuse they are not your feelings make you human a and love you for them.I know that you try to be strong hold them in check but you must understand that you can not keep them in dark for long and repressed them they will come and when they do this will happen and i do not want to see this happen to you,so pleas whenever you feel like this do not be afraid to tell me,i will help you in any way i can."

,,Thank you i am glad and i am sorry,from now on i will try my best to tell you my fellings,but now could you just hold me i could really use a good cuddle."

,,Of course anything for you my dear."

Some times your overthinking tendencies took better of you and to day was one of those days.

Working as a assistant to the undertaker was not a bad thing.I mean you were a nurse you know people die,but ever since your hospital put you on this part time job with him you just got hit with a realization of how people die every singel day.

Existential crises were not your style really and you try to avoid them as much as you can.

But it seems this one could not let you go.

So here you were in your bed in a spear room your boss made you just lying and looking at the celing questioning everything in your life.

As you were questioning your life away you did not heard a knock on your door and a tall dark figure approaching your bed and till you felt a heavy presence on the egde of you bed looking straight at you.

You set up next to him and he spoke.

,,Deary why are your eyes full of tears,are you crying for the life of the lost soul we just fixed,come now death is a natural thing it will come for you to you should laugh while you stil can,hihihihi."

Something about that just did sit rigth with you and you found your self slaping him,but his arm stoped you before it go to his cheek.

,,How can you say that does it not bother you that someday it will all just pass,how can you be so calm,there familys there loved ones,how can you say such things!"

,,I know that my dear,but still you have to realize that its just how it goes in life,pople die i know as a human its sad thinking about death,but if you worked as long as i have in this field of work you would get use to it.I am sorry if i have upset you but its just like that i know how you feel i also wish people would not die,but that is sipmle out of our power,you just have to come to terms with it."

,,I mean yes i get that,but stil."

,,Just know that death is a natural part of life,but remember that before you die do things that make you happy so that you never ever regret your life,okey?"

,,Yes,thank you for cheering me up i needed that,um i know its stupide but could you stay with me in bed for a while if its not too much of a problem?"

,,No of course not i will be happy to."

#sebastian michaelis smut #black butler fanfiction #sebastian michaelis x reader #yandere sebastian michaelis #black butler x y/n #black butler smut #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji sebastian #black butler x you #black butler sebastian #sebastian michaelis #undertaker smut #black butler undertaker #kuroshitsuji undertaker #undertaker x reader #undertaker #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x y/n #kuroshitsuji x you #kuroshitsuji x reader #black butler x female reader #black butler imagines #black butler headcanons

[luffyvace]

Undertaker wants to Court you! ~(Headcanons)~

Can’t wait for the public school arc who’s with me?!

this dude is so silly 🗿 enjoy some hcs of this ridiculous little man

Undertaker is funny. He uses that to his advantage when courting. Well, it actually depends on what type of humor you have- most of his are usually those jokes that are kinda funny but at the same time your like ‘That’s outta pocket! 🤦‍♀️😑😂’ yk?

he always wants to hear jokes. He asks you randomly and no matter what type he laughs at them. Rude humor? Hilarious! Dad jokes? That one really tickled his fancy! 😂 why did the chicken cross the road?? To get to the other side? 🤣🤣💥

now usually I feel he has a specific sense of humor but with you everything’s just kinda funny. It’s that moment when your with someone who you can laugh at the most unfunniest stuff ever and still be cackling at it anyway 😭💕

he’s always telling them as well. Might I say, at the worst times 😏 you just watched someone run over a stray animal? Oh he’s got a joke for that hear him out- LIKE BRO 😭⁉️

HES THE TYPE OF GUY WHO MAKE YOU LAUGH BEFORE EVEN TELLING YOU THE JOKE BECAUSE YOU KNOW ITS GONNA BE STUPID 👍

Let’s also talk about hiiiis…! weird side! (I’m saying ‘side’ like he’s isn’t always weird..) This is pretty much him just being a creep? Ish? Like that scene where he was in the barrel licking salt…🤨 or how he’s always in coffins (which tbh seems more normal for a grim reaper but still..) either way this dudes’ real weird and he doesn’t tone it down, even around you despite the fact that it may or may not (you decide) push you away

He’s a very mysterious dude, so how ever you met him I guarantee it was eerie and somewhat strange. Therefore you were likely intrigued by him, so when you went on your first date it was, well, very interesting! There’s so many layers to unravel with this guy! Ngl even now you’ve only semi unraveled this incomprehensible man but at the least you do learn more as you get to know him :P

his past is….complicated is an understatement- gimme a new word.

literally no one but him knows his full past all the way up to this very day. Looks like no one has stuck around long enough! Since you will I guess you’ll be the first to figure it out! ;)

now I’ll say this, he won’t sit down and just tell you everything, no. That won’t be any fun! 😄 you’ll have to have the intelligent to sit down and decode it piece by piece with the tidbits of information he gives you randomly. Yes! It’s going to be comical seeing you try and put this whole thing-a-ba-jig together! (^_−)−☆ 🤣

his nonjudgmental yet opinionated personality is scary if you don’t like folk who come off too strong. Or if your sensitive- 😄 he’s a ‘tell-it-like-it-is-and-I-don’t-give-a-ship’ type of guy. Buuuut! If your similar to him in that sense you’ll probably understand him a lot more. Him being nonjudgemental is perfect for peeps of all types so that’s a plus!! 💗

ranting about his fascination with humans during your dates comes with the package! ☝️He just does, it’s always one of his topics, and ngl it’s nothing boring either, he’s got quite a few stories to tell with even more jokes in between, which is sure to make for a lovely date <3 plus at some point all species in black butler experienced being a human, and idk about y’all but the study of human nature, psychology and how the brain works is a very interesting thing for me! I’d definitely be able to keep a conversation like that up for some time, me personally.

He puts up a front of a funny weird guy when there’s more to him if you read between the lines. Which, don’t get me wrong that certainly is a part of the real him, he just makes sure to highlight it so you don’t look at the rest 😃👌

he’s a real creepy fellow..even towards you 😭 (on purpose) and whether he’s trying to court you or not there’s no escaping it- if it starts to push you away he’ll find a way to incorporate laughter into it to make it more appealing, but no, he won’t change his ways 😭

WHY DOESN’T HE WASH HIS HAIRRRR

(yes it’s canon 😞)

you force him to wash his hair 😘💋 pls he needs it. or at least do it with him so it’s more fun. It’ll probably be easier to convince him that way

Time to talk about his work as a grim reaper!!! :3 (retired anyway) if you are reaper you get to follow each other around doing tasks! human? You both go your separate ways to work, whatever that may be. A demon? The same as a human really! Just this time you might have a contract with somebody. Buttttt!! A perk of all three is getting to work in the funeral parlor with him ;3 it’s a good disguise if your a demon/reaper and also some good quality time for you and your reaper 😘 (i mean, I hope you don’t mind morbid stuff cuz he’s a mortician after all 😅)

his little Russian roulette with the phantomhives 🕺 (LOL) no seriously I have no clue what type of relationship he has with them besides the fact that he serves them for the price of top notch laughter 🧑‍🍳💋 but you might! I’d say he’s more willing to let you in then anyone if he’s trying to court you! That obviously means he wants to trust you with his heart! So yeah! You likely know a thing or two—more about Ciel than Vincent but any info will do at this point 😭 it’s a start right? 🤷‍♀️

whenever Ciel comes over you get to witness him or Sebastian try to make undertaker laugh, it’s not like they can kick you out, you work there! Perks 😏 You can pretty much tell the one time Ciel made him laugh himself it was just a whole bunch of tomfoolery 😂 (why did it take so long⁉️😭) Sebastian is also able to make undertaker laugh really hard immediately so I wonder what he does 🤪 guess you’ll get to see! 😋

undertaker opening up to you is a process that requires patience. And don’t be pushy!! I mean this for your sake, by the way. You’ll drive yourself crazy since you’ll never get an answer that’s not riddles or straight up jokes. 🤦‍♀️🤷‍♀️

yeah overall his way of courting is really strange but when it comes to making things official he’s poetically blunt. The type of blunt where you have to process for a second like ‘wait what does that mean- oh. OH-’

Anyway I’m gonna talk about the actual dates now cuz I’ve pretty much just been mentioning the madness that comes with it this entire time :3 and yes as I said that’s a way of courting to him. He’s weird and blunt but doesn’t wanna do things the traditional way. So getting you involved in his antics is his way of saying ‘hey i like ya and I want ya to stick around’. And jokes. HAHAHAH 😂

dates with undertaker normally consists of tea, jokes, human psychology and gossip 🗿 ever since I saw ciel in wonderland I couldn’t get over the fact that undertaker was at a tea party and now I headcanons him to like tea LOLOLOL! I mean I know that’s how the plot goes in the actual slice movie and he was just playing the role of the character but, think about it—don’t it kinda fit???? Like?? Okok Hear me out hear me out- imagine sipping on some tea with Undertaker and gossiping on the latest drama from the underworld, ‘I heard a rare case is happening where blah blah blah *giggle* *giggle* chatter chatter..’ ETC! like idk how to explain it but do you see the vision???

I can also see him doing that dramatic anime thing where they sip they’re drink majestically then say something intelligent sounding (☝️🤓) (about psychology, for him) as the wind blows 😂😂 YK? LOLL even worse if your in a outside background and his eyes shows (cuz the character who never shows they’re eyes always show them when they get serious 🤣)

i love how shameless this guy is

why don’t we know this guys’ real name⁉️ Can’t even give him a nickname because ‘undertaker’ isn’t nickname material!! What am I supposed to call him???? Taker’ ⁉️😭🗿

ENJOY @doudouma HERE’S YOUR SURPRISE~ 🤗

#anime #anime and manga #luffyvace #anime headcanons #fluff headcanons #fluff #black butler x reader #black butler #black butler x y/n #black butler x you #kuroshitsuji #yana toboso #black butler season 4 #black butler undertaker #undertaker kuroshitsuji #undertaker black butler #undertaker x reader #black butler public school arc #undertaker #undertaker x you #cute headcanons #cute prompts #fluffy prompts #fluffy

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Kinktober 2023: gang bang, Grim Reapers + Sebastian (gags, bondage, slight dub con and pact play)

-

The demon was on his back, tied up with chains, leaving him exposed. You’d removed his clothes as well and a blindfold adorning him. He had to awkwardly bite around the gag you had forced into his mouth.

You positioned yourself between his legs, leaning down to blow a puff of hot air onto his shaft. To your amusement it twitched excitedly, getting to half mass before your attention was diverted. A knock on the door has you sit up, watching as Sebastian tried to close his legs but couldn’t.

Another knock. “Biscuit? Are you ready?” You hum in response, you didn’t expect him to hear you but the door opens to your amusement. Undertaker was the first to enter, no hesitation to walk right up to you and Sebastian. “Oooh! Is this the gift you prepared for us? It looks exquisite!”

Sebastian growled, tugging at the restraints that left him so vulnerable. You ordered him not to break then, he’s at your mercy now…

Well more accurately, he’s at your mercy and the grim reapers.

Grell waltzed in, hurrying up to Sebastian’s side. She clearly peers at his twitching manhood before she flashes you a grin. “Do you mind if I take this for a bit? Just long enough to get a joy ride?” You nodded and watched her fondle Sebastian, though judging by how he was flinching, she was being a little rough.

You catch Grell flashing a toothy grin before she’s swallowing down his cock. Sebastian let’s out a muffled moan, it turned to a whine and with a glance you can see Grell swallow down his cock.

You slip out from your position and look to the door. “You two coming in or did you get cold feet?” Ronald waltz in with a slight smile, glancing to the little scene before him. “William?”

You stepped out of the room and see William. You grabbed his wrist, tugging him into the room. When you glance back, you see Sebastian’s gag had been removed, Ronald had shoved his cock in place. Grell had shoved herself into Sebastian.

Undertaker was riding Sebastian, none of them were even trying to match pace with each other. You heard the obscene noise coming from Sebastian as he choked on Ronald’s cock, whimpers and moans attempting to escape him.

“Grell, don’t…finish…inside him, ok, I don’t want your sloppy seconds….” William hissed out. Grell groaned in response, ignoring him in favor of bucking into Sebastian faster. Sebastian makes a muffled yelping sound earning a moan from Ronald.

“Do that again!” Ronald purred out, looking over to Grell. She purred back and adjusted her hips to piston into Sebastian, you hear a guttural cry escape Sebastian as she hits what’s undoubtedly the demons sweet spot.

You seat yourself beside Sebastian, leaning down to tease his nipples, flicking them lightly. William joins you on the opposite side of Sebastian, you both work in tandem to tease up and down Sebastian’s body. Undertaker hisses and freezes above Sebastian. “A-ah, he’s-he is certainly having a good time!” With a few more bounces, you understand what he means, given how Sebastian tries to tremble away, and there’s cum dripping from where he and Undertaker’s bodies met.

A heavy groan escapes Ron and with a few more thrust, he’s shoved his cock as far down Sebastian’s throat as he could. He holds himself there, trapping Sebastian there as well. After a few gasp, Ronald pulls back and to your amusement, some of his cum and Sebastian’s saliva spill onto his face.

Ronald steps away, tucking himself back into his pants and steps aside, seating himself to face the bed. William glances between you and Sebastian. You gesture for him to go ahead, you weren’t in the mood to be eaten out tonight.

William hesitantly took Ronald’s place and given Sebastian was panting, there was no resistance. A whine escaped the demon as he bucked up, earning a gasp from Undertaker. You tense up feeling something hot and wet land on the side of your face (and some in your hair) on instinct you tense and close your eyes.

You instantly feel what you know is Undertaker licking the substance off your face. Once your sure you won’t get any in your eyes, you get a bit of what’s left in your hand and open your eyes. You laugh a bit, knowing Undertaker had accidentally ‘finished’ on your face.

-

Tag list: @anxious-chick

#black butler #black butler x y/n #black butler x you #Sebastian Michaelis #sub black butler #dom reader #sebastian x reader #ronald knox #ronald knox x reader #grelle x reader #grell sutcliff #william t spears #william x reader #sub william #sub Ronald #sub grell #undertaker #undertaker x reader #sub undertaker #kinktober #kinktober 23 #cw dubious consent #cw restraints #cw gags #cw blindfolds

[yandereaffections]

Black Butler Masterlist

Sebastian Michaelis 

Ciel vs Sebastian over you

Reaction to your Pregnancy

Domestic HC with your child

Father and Husband

Clingy sebastian

Relationship w/o sex

Not believing his confession

Distancing yourself

Missing and returning with a present 

Throwing yourself into a river

Pagan, Pansexual, Crossdresser

Framed to Death sentence 

Married to Ciel

Sebastian HC

His need for Validation

Sick s/o

“Cheating” on him

Haunted House + Hunted Down

Torture 

Unwillingly hurting his S/o

Angel trying to seduce S/o out of their Contract

Angel stealing his S/o & Child

S/os child being their “one and only love”

Ciel having a soft spot for his S/o

Demon trying to replace sebastian for his S/o

Independent S/o

Crush trying to hook him up with someone else

Fluff HC

Nature loving S/o

Gold digger S/o

Stubborn S/o refusing to take medicine

S/o on her period

Physically disabled s/o

S/o with cutting scars TW

Kissing Seb as he pretends to sleep

Easily flustered s/o

Punishments HC

Witch s/o who attracts cats

After sex cuddling

Capturing his darling

S/o being the favorite parent

Sebs children trying to take his S/o away from him

Someone attempting to ‘save’ Sebs S/o

Neko S/o

Emotion HC

Arguing wih S/o

Demon S/o rejecting him

Trying to distract him with cats to escape

The difference between Normal and Yandere demons HC

Introducing your baby to the Phantomhives

Grell trying to harm S/o

S/o turning into a cat

Darlings already mated to a powerful demon

Empathetic and sweet S/o

Marrying Sebastian

Finding a way to make human s/o immortal

Smol and delicate s/o

Giddy/Energetic S/o 

Ciel and the servants figuring out Sebastians dating

Darling that cant cook but makes him something anyways

Ciel and the servants figuring out Sebastians dating

High class noble darling that doesnt pay attention to him

Celebrating Halloween with his kids

S/o invested in a book

Noble S/o whose parents doesnt want them talking to seb

Bringing home a stray puppy

Smart yet weak Neko S/o

S/o who has a tendency to climb and get stuck ontop of things

Touch Starved Sebastian

Stupid S/o

Taking Seb to a cat cafe

Nephilim S/o

S/o has a kid from a previous relationship

More Fluff

Taking care of a overworked S/o

Domestic Seb w/ darling

Fighting w/ his kids trying to take S/o away from him

Romantic Darling

S/o’s afraid of cats

Darling being ridiculed for coming out of the closet

Meeting S/o’s overprotective family

Sexuality and Gender Idenity HC

Spoiling his S/o

Darling w/ small Titties

Goth S/o

What music Sebastian listens to

Making a contract with S/o

Yandere Alphabet: D,F,H,R,T

S/o who loves loud aggressive music

Darling has an Eating Disorder TW

Yandere Alphabet: A,J,K,W,Z,I,Q

S/o is afraid of ghosts

Comforting Depressed Darling TW

Comforting S/o w/ the stomach flu

Darling that curses a lot

Loving a small, cubby and cute reader

Darling who always makes degrading comments and jokes about suicide TW

S/o who fears and avoids Sebastian 

Bathing darling

S/o who smokes TW

Dominant S/o

Taking care of a greedy food aggressive cat

Getting matching piercings 

Demon S/o

Finding out Darling has a crush on their best friend

S/o whos nervous at any sensual touch

Modern day Satanist Darling

S/o getting upset when finding out about his past affairs 

Reaction to his darling dying

S/o admits to loving his true form

Celebrating darlings birthday

S/o shutting down when kidnaped 

Fluffy Morning and Night Routine HC

Darling with Major Trust Issues

S/o who doesnt want kids

Darling who can turn into a chibi neko

Being reunited with S/o after being separated for a few years

Demon S/o having a family together

Schizophrenic Reader

40 year old male reader thinking your too old for him

Worker S/os employer abusing them

S/o who constantly has mini break downs

Autistic S/o

Short Tempered Darling

Platonic relationship w/ a  young neko

Disabled S/o who used forearm crutches 

Helping S/o through a Asthma Attack

S/o that loves playing with his hair

Avoiding him due to think demons are only manipulative 

Even More Fluff HC

S/o whos happy to be kidnapped 

Darling saying “I Love You” for the first time

Comforting S/o w/ daddy issues

S/o being sadistic in a strict way

Doing his makeup

Ciel Platonically being Yandere over Sebastian's darling

Placing cats ontop of you to wake you up

S/o wanting to do his skin care

S/o w/ a bad immune system

Play fights w/ sebastian

S/o who likes teasing him

S/o who cant speak english

Another demon wants to steal sebastian's S/o

Would sebastian understand memes?

S/os tics/adhd sounds are like cat sounds 

Spending a day at the beach

Would Sebastian use S/os mental disability against them?

His daughter bringing a dog into the house

Mermaid S/o

Phantomhive servants are platonically Yandere for Sebastians S/o

How Mayrin treats Sebastians S/o

Ciel accidentally calling sebastian's S/o “mom”

Collector s/o

Kittens love language is touch

S/os already married to a human

Writer S/o using sebastian as a reference for the villain

Meeting his wealthy yet not noble S/o

Being romantic w/ his kitten

How he goes about confessing and courting S/o

How he interacts with his new born child

S/os whose personality is bitchy/mean

S/o w/ ADD and MDD

Gifting him cat themed items

Romancing his kitten

S/o that blushes easily

Using his tailcoat as a blanket

Where he likes kissing his kitten & why HC

Loving care HC

Leaving gifts around the manor for his kitten

Building you a home HC

S/o thats bad at cooking trying to join him in the kitchen

Kitten who writes poems for him

Asking him to teach you how to fight

S/o giving him all sorts of affection

Giving back love to his affectionate kitten

S/o willing to give up their soul to save ciels 

What a average day with your new child looks like

“You look so beautiful like this…covered in all of my marks.”

 “This is what would happen if I didn’t take care of you.”

What life is like for the kidnapped S/o

“You’re weak. You need me.”

 “I love you, and I know you love me too. Even if you refuse to admit it.”

S/o who wants to travel the world with him

Demon S/o wants to spar with him

S/o whos a major sweettooth

S/o responding to his flirts with "Good joke, but you're a demon right? You're not supposed to feel. " 

The purge

Watching horror movies with Sebastian

Kidnapped S/o who refuses to look at him and makes rude comments 

Denying him by saying stuff like "you're like a father to me"\

S/o is a stoner

S/o has nipple piercings 

General HC

How Sebastian expresses himself to his Kitten

Playing GTA/RDR with sebastian

S/os basically nocturnal 

Styling sebs hair

Stalking HC

Asking him to dance

S/o gets extremely fatigued at the end of the day

S/o trying to tickle him

Caring for S/o after top surgery

S/o loves dancing to Kpop songs

Platonic S/o caffeine addict

S/o has 5 dogs

S/o imitates him constantly

Platonic seb adopting a young demon

Servant S/o works for a family that regularly abuses them

Sebastian vs Agni

Grell making Seb jealous via flirting at his s/o

Playing human games w/ his child

Running into poor S/o adoring cats

Kidnapping HC

S/o bothered by how much time he spends on contracts

S/o is feisty constantly fights against Seb

Seb baby fever HC

S/o having baby fever

Comforting S/o after their father suddenly passed

Matching tattoos

S/o using him as drawing inspiration

Yandere Alphabet M,K,A,L,U,Y 

Hunted down

Nuclear Apocalypse 

Platonic Babygirl is half demon half human

Life Threatening and Supernatural situation

Life threatening situation

Claude Faustus

Stalker prompt

Kidnapping HC

Affection HC

Pregnant S/o

Demoness S/o who wont give up without a fight

Innocent S/o

Hunted down

S/o uses ariel silks

Famous Violinist S/o

Ciel Phantomhive

Ciel vs Sebastian over you

Haunted House + Demon

Becoming your Suitor

Rejecting his advances 

Recognizing Crossdressed Ciel

Fluff HC

Independent S/o

Siren

Matching your outfit with his

Comforting S/o on their period

Ciel Platonically being Yandere over Sebastian's darling

Childhood friend S/o

Ciel accidentally calling sebastian's S/o “mom”

Platonic HC

Shy s/o

Falling for a Maid S/o

Servant S/o works for a family that regularly abuses them

Platonic Seemingly absent minded S/o is actually v smart 

Yandere Alphabet I,K,Y

Trick or treat

Undertaker

HC

Clingy S/o

S/o trying to escape

Naga

Kidnapping S/o

Cheering him up

Aggressive S/o 

Killing his rival

How he shows love

Rival threatening S/o

Loving s/o being treated unfairly

Fluff HC

S/o who “wears the pants” in the relationship

S/o can see/talk to ghosts

Darling that defies gender norms

Celebrating Halloween with his kids

Scary Movies

Ticklish S/o

Capturing S/o during a escape attempt

S/o wants a cat

Darlings into steampunk

Naga Undertaker soft affections hc

Half reaper S/o

Yandere Alphabet T,V,X,Y 

Hunted down by vampire undertaker

Alois Trancy

“youre mine do you understand? you belong to me”

Snake

Tough and Blunt S/o

Grell

Relationship HC 

S/o scared to accept Grells proposal

Figuring out what Grell is

FtM S/o

Not fearing what grell is

Grell raising their kid

Dealing with a man that persistently bothers you

Reacting to S/o singing the 5th verse of WAP

Celebrating Halloween with her kids

Childs now an adult

S/o doesnt want their child to be around the Phantomhives

Family w/ grell HC

Grells child angry theyre hidden 

Married life HC

Loving her S/o whos self conscious about their body

S/o who curses a lot

Platonic relationship with Kid Witch 

S/o who has MILF energy 

Kid Witch gets hurt by an angel 

Pregnant S/o

Loving a chubby S/o

Jealous HC

Kid Witch whos traumatized from getting attacked by an angel

Cuddling after a long days work

Comforting S/o during a Anxiety attack

Soft S/o

Affectionate S/o

Attempting to escape

S/o who walked around the house naked

Humanitarian/empathetic S/o 

Spoiling Grell with affection

s/o saw her kill Madam Red

S/o not believing grell has genuine feelings towards them cause she simps for so many others

S/o who trusts people to easily

Taking advantage of her S/os mental disability making them rely on her

Being with grell in her butler form

S/o absolutely fawns over grell

Platonic young reaper darling

Yandere Alphabet A,B,E,L,V

Vampire grell

Witch S/o

Life Threatening situation

Hannah

S/o trying to escape

Spoiled, aggressive S/o

S/o breaking down for the first time

Finnian

Elf s/o whos anxious about their ears

Ronald Knox

Headcannons

Yandere Alphabet L,M,U,Y

Edward Midford 

Tailor Apprentince S/o who shows skin

Cold and distant S/o

William T spears

Platonic timid sibling reader just became a reaper

Sebastian Michaelis

NS FW Headcannons

Jealous 

Period kink

Somnophilia

S/o giving a bj 

Heat HC

Bedding his S/o at a high class ball, bondage

Claiming S/o infront of her fiance

Punishment HC 

Sebastian murdering the competition and taking his S/o

Darling going through their first Heat 

S/o losing their virginity 

Bratty S/o 

AFAB darling calling him Daddy 

Face sitting HC 

Making darling squirt for the first time 

AFAB dry humping

Noncon & Breeding TW

Breeding Kink

Favorite Position & Orgasm control

Dubcon & Body Worship TW

How Vocal he is

Male Incubus S/o 

S/o likes pain during sex

Vampire Sebastian Breeding

Claude Faustus

Darlings first heat 

Undertaker

Naga NS FW

Foreplay HC

Body paint NS FW

Grell

NS FW HC

Sex addicted AFAB S/o 

S/o has trouble orgasming 

Body Praise 

#YANDEREAFFECTIONS GOLDEN MASTERLIST #black butler #yandere black butler #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji sebastian #Kuroshitsuji Ciel #kuroshitsuji undertaker #thats enough tags #last updated 1/21/2023 #Last updated 4/24/23

[dawn-moths]

"Birthday Wishes"

Undertaker x Female Reader

word count: 3,700+

(@fanfictionsworld requested: spending your birthday with Undertaker from my Cause to Start a Vendetta AU.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! fluff with some smut at the end, oral sex (reader receiving), use of the word “Daddy”, reader is called “princess, baby, sweetheart”.

*ao3 mirror*

***

You’d been counting down the days for weeks now, your birthday circled on the calendar with a big pink glitter gel pen heart several times over, every day crossed off that crawled closer to the day— your day— making you more and more excited.

Because, as you’d quickly grown accustomed to being spoiled by Undertaker— special occasion or otherwise— your birthday was no exception to being showered with all the love and luxury he had at his disposal.

“Morning, princess…” he cooed, gently smoothing down some of your sleep-tousled hair with a big, cool palm, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you blinked open beary eyes, wrapped in his arms and the many layers of blankets that twisted and tangled about your bodies sprawled across the bed.

“Morning, Daddy…” you replied, voice soft and delicate as the lingering dredges of slumber clung to your tone, an angelic little grin curving up on your sweet lips as you nuzzled closer into Undertaker’s chest, seeking out his elusive warmth.

For a moment, nearly forgetting what today was as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your figure filling with the heavy weight of sleep once more, your eyelids fluttered closed and your breathing began to turn slow and shallow. Undertaker rubbed a hand up and down your back, stirring you back to the waking world and smiling to himself as you let out a big yawn, nose scrunching adorably with the expression.

“If you want to go back to sleep,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your nose and causing a fragile giggle to bubble up in your chest, “I won’t stop you. But that would certainly be a shame when we have so many fun things on our to-do list today.”

That was enough to entice you, your mind suddenly much more alert than before, and you snaked your arms up to gently rest over his shoulders. “Just a few more minutes…” you said, pressing yourself even closer to him, wishing you could bask in the safety of his touch forever. “Then I promise I’ll get up.”

A smooth, sonorous chuckle vibrated through his bones, the sound warming you from the inside out like hot milk and honey. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, allowing himself to melt back to a more relaxed state as well. “Just a few more minutes…”

As the sun crept further through the cracks of the curtains, bright beams painting the ornate master bedroom with thin strokes of gold, stirring up the wispy clouds of dust motes swirling through the air, Undertaker coaxed you into finally rising, draping one of his big, fluffy black robes over your shoulders when you became burdened with a chill, the mansion’s usual temperature kept low upon his preference.

Once your feet were dressed in your favorite pair of fluffy socks and even fluffier slippers, you took Undertaker’s hand and let him guide you down the wide halls to the curving staircase, heading towards the kitchen where you could already smell your special birthday breakfast.

The long dining table was decorated to the nines with all kinds of balloon bouquets and bundles of black and white roses overflowing from crystal vases. Spelled out in gold glitter confetti at one end of the display was HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRINCESS punctuated by a big heart. At the other was a full selection of all your breakfast favorites— souffle pancakes piled high with bananas and melty chocolate chips, strawberry french toasts drizzled with sticky maple syrup and sprinkled with a frosty snowfall of powdered sugar, fluffy scrambled eggs and yogurt parfaits and fruit arranged by color.

You sucked in a gasp of delight, hands clasped before your chest as you eagerly surveyed the scene, looking up at your Daddy like he’d outdone himself.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said, extending a hand towards the chair at the head of the table— his usual chair, the master’s chair, the dining room’s throne— and pulling it out for you to sit in, taking the seat adjacent to it to join you in the morning’s sugary culinary experience.

Over the meal— you choosing a bit of everything to pile onto your plate in an orderly array, because why should you have to choose just one when today you could have whatever your little heart desired— you and Undertaker began to discuss the day’s itinerary.

There was a packed schedule planned indeed— a shopping outing at all your most beloved designer stores, afternoon tea at the Ritz, exploring some of the artsy nooks and crannies of the city and dropping into your favorite bookstore all before hopping on the Aurora Society’s private jet and taking the hour and a half flight to your favorite five star restaurant in Paris, sure to end the evening by enjoying your usual penthouse suit of the expensive hotel that gave the best view among any of the establishments around.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Undertaker slyly prompted just as you were about to head upstairs to get changed and ready for the events ahead, thoughts already spinning trying to decide what you wanted to wear. You stopped and considered him with an adorably cute expression for a moment until he pulled a big gift bag from under the table where he’d hidden it from you, the glossy black packaging stuffed with glittering silver tissue paper and two perfect satin ribbons serving as the handles. “You know,” he shrugged as he slid it towards you on the table, drinking in your awe, never growing tired of how easily you seemed to be innocently surprised sometimes, “just in case you felt like going out in something new.”

Carefully, as if the wrapping itself was just as valuable as the gift, you plucked the sparkling tissue paper away to uncover the pristinely wrapped box beneath, a marbling of glossy and matte black swirling over the decorative paper like ink dropped into water. The moment the first half of your favorite clothing brand’s name was visible to you, you shot him a glance, as if to say, “you shouldn’t have” despite believing down to your very core that you deserved every expensive, extravagant thing that Undertaker placed in your cute little lap.

Once you lifted the garment from where it had been perfectly folded within its box, holding it up to your body as if to sample how it would look before trying it on, you heard Undertaker sigh, a dreamy, lilting hum tailing off the end of it. “Exquisite…” he remarked, and you now held the dress out from your body, studying the intricate craftsmanship that had been hand stitched into the garment as you smiled to yourself, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It really is.”

But then Undertaker was by your side, having moved soundlessly, his even stride gliding across the short distance to meet you. “I wasn’t talking about the dress,” he murmured, big hands settling on your hips. “Now, why don’t you head upstairs and start getting ready.”

You turned your face up to his, met his lips when he was close enough for a kiss, and muttered out a sweet little, “Thank you, Daddy,” before following his instruction and heading for the staircase.

He watched you go, saw the skip in your step as you ventured off, only returning to clearing the table once you disappeared down the long second story hallway and out of his view. He was going to look forward to taking that dress off of you later, unwrapping you like his own special gift by the time night draped itself over the sky.

***

The afternoon had been like a dream, you and your lover floating from one location to the next to try on extravagant clothing and sample imported teas, the two of you practically waltzing through the downtown streets where you longed to see what new installments the local London artists put up around the city before you’d lost track of time perusing your favorite bookstore, a good two hours going by without you even noticing as you strategically searched for the next story to get yourself hooked on.

But as the sky began to fade from blue to gold, it signaled that dinner was soon approaching, which meant you two had a plane to catch if you wanted to arrive to your reservation on time.

The hostess greeted you two with a friendly smile, addressing you both by name, the entire restaurant staff made familiar with London’s most notorious boss and the beautiful girl who was always on his arm, Undertaker making short, lighthearted conversation with the manager in French while they crossed paths on the walk to your usual table, the man chuckling at something your Daddy had said, forever able to charm anyone if he set his mind to it, it seemed.

As you both enjoyed the delicacies of the six course meal, you continued to talk and laugh, never running out of topics to converse about, though tonight you were most excited to tell him all about the book you’d recently finished and your expectations for the new one you’d chosen on your earlier excursion, having heard nothing but praise for the acclaimed tale.

Once the horizon had lost its lilac blush and sunk deep into the velvet navy of nightfall though, you knew you were just about to enter into yet another phase of your luxurious birthday festivities.

***

You could smell the roses from down the hall before the doors to your hotel suite in Paris even opened. The entirety of the three connected rooms were decked from floor to ceiling in at least one hundred thousand dollars worth of florals, vibrant reds and sultry blacks, flawless creams and even a dash of lovely soft pinks.

You could’ve cried at how gorgeous it all was, blinking the mist from your eyes as you spun in slow circles about the place, taking it all in. Undertaker’s hands found your shoulders to steady you, stopping your awestruck turns to face the beautiful birthday cake on the hotel room’s center table, the special dessert shaped like a heart and iced in a rainbow of your favorite colors, several candles placed strategically on the top and already lit, small flames glowing and beckoning you over to make a wish.

But what could you possibly wish for when you already had everything you’d ever want or need— a gorgeous man who loved you, showering you in every stunning thing life had to offer, as simple as the snap of his fingers or a wave of his hand— besides to continue living this blessed life that had found its way to you, through trial and tribulation?

Taking a few steps forward towards the cake, you choked out through a shaky breath, “Oh my god…” unable to hold back your tears any longer, a few sparkling drops running down your cheeks, glittering like gold as they caught the amber of the flickering firelight. You looked back at Undertaker, who was not far behind you, and wondered if you’d ever be able to convey how much this all meant to you. It almost seemed unfair. He’d always be able to do more for you than you would for him, though he never seemed to mind.

For him, just having you— his sweet, precious baby girl to dote on and adore as much as he pleased— was far more than enough. All you had to do was exist. All you had to do was be his.

“Well, go on,” he lightly urged, a calm smile playing at the corner of his lips as he gestured towards the center table. “The candles won’t blow themselves out, now will they?”

You smiled, big and bright, and let out a sound that could only be described as pure joy. Undertaker was addicted to that sound, the way it rang out like the delicate jingle of bells, the way it warmed him like the sun’s rays after so much rain. It made everything he’d ever done, good, bad, or somewhere in between, all worth it. Just to see you smile at him like that, just to hear you laugh. Just to know it was him who’d been the orchestrator of such emotions.

And as you let out a strong gust of a breath, turning each melting birthday candle from flame to smoke, you realized you did have one wish you wanted to make afterall.

Let things be like this forever, you thought to yourself, like a silent prayer. Let us stay as in love for the rest of our lives as we are right now, in this moment.

Undertaker cut the cake, a piece for you and a piece for him, and then the two of you sat by the counter outlooking the spotless floor to ceiling windows that gave way to the sprawling view of the City of Light, the night sky clear and sparkling with little bursts of silver stars overhead.

You talked and joked and laughed while you both enjoyed your dessert, your chair pressed right next to his, close enough that you could lean your head over to rest against the side of his shoulder while his arm slung across your back, hugging you closer to him, his most cherished treasure.

“You know…” you began, gazing dreamily out the window at the romantic scene the city offered. Then, casting him a glance from where you were nestled into his side, you said, “I think this might really be the best birthday ever.”

Something in his eyes softened a shade then, and in response Undertaker lightly took your chin between his lithe fingers, tilting your mouth just ever so slightly upwards so he could lean down to meet it. You hadn’t expected the kiss, languid and savoring at first as you parted your lips to let him in, both of you tasting like your favorite flavor of cake, soon turning more hungry, having you straddling his lap and blinded by the blissful haze that was slowly filling you from the inside out.

When he finally broke away, leaned back just far enough to look you in the eyes, gently wiping the cool pad of his thumb across the plush of your bottom lip, glossy from your mingled saliva, a weak attempt to clean you up a bit, he said, “I guess that means I’ll have to go above and beyond next year,” and you laughed and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you felt yourself relax over him.

“No, but really…” you murmured. “Thank you, Daddy. For everything. Always.”

All you got as a warning for what happened next was a low, lilting chuckle humming in his chest before he was hoisting you up, big hands splayed against the backs of your thighs as he began to carry you elsewhere in the suite.

“Where are we going?” you playfully asked, though you already had a pretty good idea.

“There’s still a few hours until midnight,” he remarked, a new kind of vigor in his voice and stride. He set you down on the edge of the king-sized bed, beginning to shrug off his jacket and tug his belt buckle free of its loops as he added, “Which means your birthday’s not over yet, princess.”

The smirk that spread across his face then made that fluttering creature resting in your lower belly roll over inside of you, beginning to wake, soon asking to be satisfied like a dog scratching at the door begging for treats, relentless until it was given its desired reward. It wasn’t long before Undertaker was hooking his grip under your thighs again, pulling you further down the bed where he then knelt at the foot of it.

You gave him an uncertain and slightly suspicious look as he flicked his emerald gaze up to meet yours. Usually, he liked to undress you, strip you down piece by piece before ridding himself of his own clothing, admiring every inch of your bare body like it was the most masterful work of art. Then he’d pin you down, his prized butterfly, and get to work at soaking both your bodies with pleasure before wringing them dry, squeezing you for every last lustful drop he could.

But tonight— on your night— he figured he’d do things a little differently. Give you one last birthday surprise before the clock struck twelve.

“Just relax, sweetheart…” he cooed, carefully bunching your new dress up around your waist, exposing the expensive lace clinging to the most delicate parts of you and drinking in the sight like it rivaled even that of the one just beyond the windows. “Let Daddy make you feel good…”

Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the soft raise of your lower belly, and you felt your tight little hole futter and your sensitive bud pulse as he slowly removed your panties, your already damp core causing them to cling to you a moment before the cool air sighed against your damp slit.

Undertaker ran a long finger through your dewy folds, making your next breath catch as he slipped it inside of you to gather more of your slick before rubbing it against your puffy clit, already swollen with arousal, pulling one of those adorable whines from your throat as you lay one arm over your eyes, the other sprawled out across the bed, little fingers twisting into the sheets, trying to grab hold of anything while you still had the chance.

“That’s it, baby…” he praised, helping to spread you wider for him, a leg thrown over one of his broad shoulders as he continued to tease you. His next words sent a puff of his warm breath against your cunt, and you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation, exhaling a shuddering sigh. He whispered, “I’m gonna take good care of you, baby,” and when he licked a flat-tongued stripe up your pussy, you let out a soft, broken whine, back already beginning to arch a little at the sinfully sweet feel of him.

Undertaker was skilled at a lot of things— running a business, making money, getting away with murder— but the thing you thought he was best at, above all else, was pleasuring you.

It was effortless, the way he knew exactly what to do that made you body bend to his command, melting your mind until all you knew was the press of his hips or the wet warmth of his mouth, the indents of his teeth, his fingerprints, all of it branded into you so no matter where you looked on your own body there would be a reminder of him, like a promise, a gift.

You were clenching the silky sheets in your trembling fist as he speared his tongue into you, his sharp nose nudging against your clit every time and forcing moan after delicious, high-pitched moan out of you like that was the only sound you’d ever known how to make. If he thought your laugh was syrupy sweet, then your moans were something else entirely, something far more addicting or satisfying than sticky, sickly sweet sugar. More like a drug to him, making him addicted in a way that, once he got a taste, he couldn’t stop. Not until you had nothing left to give, his pursuit at seeing just how far or how long he could make you go merciless time and time again.

“P-please—” you sobbed, the new veil of tears that had welled in your eyes causing your lashes to clump and spike together with every fluttering roll of your eyes back into your head. His pace was voracious, wanting to devour you down to your very core. You could barely get half a broken plea out before it was interrupted by a surrendering mewl or a soundless gasp, mouth hung open in ecstasy before he prepared to shatter you. “Please— I’m gonna—”

But before you could even speak the last word of your sentence, let alone remember it, Undertaker had you coming undone, unraveling you like a frayed thread on a silk scarf, pulling you apart until there was nothing left but a tangle of string he could then rearrange into any shape he pleased.

Your chest rose and fell with short, shallow, panting breaths, rigid form relaxing back into the mattress, body gone all pliable and boneless once the remaining tension melted away. Meanwhile, Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the sensitive insides of your stained thighs, palms gently petting you as you drifted down from the high and back into the garden of Eden he’d planted, nurtured, and grown just for you.

Normally, he’d barely give you enough time to recover before commencing round two, but, as he seemed to be a little more patient with you on this most special of days, he allowed your heart to slow to a steady rhythm and your breathing to smooth out into even inhales and exhales before shifting over you, darting out his tongue to lick at his own lips to catch one last obscene taste of you before wiping away your glistening arousal from the bottom half of his pale face with the back of his hand.

As he stared down at you through half-lidded eyes, the vibrant green of them almost glowing through the dim dark of the bedroom, he said, as if only to himself, “Just look at you… So gorgeous… My beautiful girl…” as he helped free you the rest of the way from your pretty birthday dress, mindfully folding it and placing it on the nearest bedside drawer so it didn’t get ruined.

Because he did intend to ruin you.

He intended to ruin you in all the right ways.

As he shed his own clothing like a black-skinned snake, all those silvery scars wrapped around alabaster flesh now on full display, you reached out for him, wanting, craving, needing to feel the press of his body back on yours before the ebbing pleasure made you drift off to dreamland. Though, with Undertaker, reality could often feel like a dream, so perfect your conscious mind almost struggled to comprehend it was real at times.

But, as he began to lean back over you, your fingers interlocked as he pressed your hands down into the comforter on either side of your head, both your legs thrown over his shoulders to have you splayed wide and vulnerable for him, just the way he liked you, one thing was for certain. Undertaker had been ahead of himself when he’d said he’d have to find a way to outdo your birthday next year. After tonight, you had no idea how things could get any better than this.

***

(Hello and thank you so much to @fanfictionsworld for your request! I hope I did it justice and thank you for being so patient with me while you waited for it. I know you’ve been following me for quite some time and I always recognize you when I see you pop up in my notifs, so it was truly a pleasure getting to write for you <3

Also want to give a big thank you to everyone else for reading as well! I hope you enjoyed and I hope you have a wonderful day!)

#kodis requests #undertaker #kuroshitsuji undertaker #undertaker black butler #black butler undertaker #undertaker x reader #black butler #black butler fanfiction #black butler x reader #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji smut #kuroshitsuji fanfic #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x you #kuroshitsuji x y/n #black butler smut #undertaker x you #undertaker x y/n

[yan-lorkai]

How about an undertaker with a fem Vampire s/o?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: He is such a silly little guy, I love him. And I love this rq too since I absolutely adore vampires! Hope u like it too!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, fem reader, very brief mention of the bizarre dolls, otherwise, this is just fluff <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Undertaker has seen thousands of immortal creatures, however, this is the first time he has seen a vampire. And even more so, one as beautiful as you. As they say in the legends, your skin is so soft to the touch, your eyes dangerous and treacherous, your beautiful smile showing your sharp fangs. And he feels enchanted by you. But what enchants him the most are your jokes, even if they aren't good, they make him laugh until his stomach hurts and he cries.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ As a Shinigami he knows how immoral it is to harvest a soul before its time, but if you want to kill some people to feed on them, Undertaker wouldn't stop you. Instead, he would cover your tracks so that no one would know who the killer was. Or, if you don't hunt people but animals, he would help you, even though he didn't have that much experience with traps.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Loves watching you hypnotize people to do something you want or just for funsies. You and Undertaker usually play with people as if they were your dolls, just another harmless play. But you two do get reckless sometimes.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He buys the best dresses to accentuate your beauty. Then he praises you, he would praise you even if you were covered from head to toe with blood. He might even get down on one knee to propose.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Absolutely melts when you kiss his scar, he might or might not tell you the story about how he got it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He makes you skull bracelets and necklaces, so you know that he is never a part. And it's imbued with his own shinigami magic so he knows where you are. Is never a coincidence when he met you at alleyways or crowded places, he wasn't just passing by, he know you never would do something to spoil your relationship with him but he is a clingy Shinigami that likes to drap himself on top of you like a cat and to fill your face with kisses.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ On the surface level he is sweet and caring, and he truly is, he loves spoiling you and acting silly to make you laugh - your laugh makes him giggle so this turn into a vicious cycle. But he is just as possessive as much as he gentle with you. He'll do anything you asked, anything you wanted, but only if he can get you whole, only if you depend on him and think only of him. Even if you don't, Undertaker has his ways to do things.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ After a while, when you two get serious, he is much more open about his past with you. He even let's you hold his scythe and absolutely love the look on your face, it's so precious how you spin it around and carefully analyze the skull at the top. You ask him tons of questions on it and about shinigamis. If you're lucky he might even tell you his true name.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ To prevent anyone from speaking ill of you, Undertaker has you working on the mortuary as his assistant. Though he hates when that butler's stare lingers on you a little longer. You're his beloved, you're beautiful but people shouldn't look at you like this, even worse, that demon shouldn't even be near you. Undertakes gets impossibly jealous when he and the little brat are gone. And of course you have to be the one to placate his burning heart, to ease his worries or else you have to deal with a cranky god of death.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You sometimes help him make his bizarre dolls and he loves it so much, guiding you to every step and explaining why he is creating them and for what purpose. It's a little strange but when you two are bonding over anything, it's bounded to be this way. Death surrounds you two daily and now it seems like a good ol' friend, welcoming.

#yandere black butler #yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere undertaker #yandere undertaker x reader #black butler #black butler undertaker #undertaker x reader #undertaker x y/n #undertaker x you #tw yandere #female reader #lorkai headcanons

[todoroki-waifu]

Headcanons about how Undertaker, William, and Lau would react if his gender neutral crush accidentally confesses to him?

Note: Thank you for the request! Really enjoying writing these. Hehe.

Warning: Gender neutral reader.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 543

~Undertaker~

He laughs.

Laughs a lot until you get mad at him and attempt to walk away.

He grabs you before you can leave and attempts to apologize, but you don't seem convinced.

Undertaker doesn't truly believe you fell for someone like him. 

People tended to stay away from him because ...well...he deals with the dead! (It is his occupation, plus he's a shinigami) 

Once he sees how serious you are, he grins, pulling you close by your waist and holding up one of your hands as he starts to sway you into a slow waltz. 

Despite his long, silver bangs covering his eyes, there's a hint of happiness swirling in his green orbs. He feels somewhat alive again. You're bringing color to his dark, melancholy life.

Undertaker does warn you that his love for you will last even after death. There is no 'till death do us part'. 

Again, he's a shinigami, so he'll make sure that you two stay together.

~William~

Hate to say it, but he doesn't accept your confession at first. 

Feels as if it would interfere with his work. Believes love and business don't mix together.

Eventually changes his mind. He misses you so, so much. He misses how close you two used to be. 

Even Grell comments about how stupid he is (which William couldn't help but poke him with his shears). 

Grell only knew what was going on between the two of you through you after pestering noticing William's change in behavior. 

Takes William a while to apologize, but he's determined to put his pride to the side because being without you is worse than working overtime and he HATES working past his shift. 

Feels really silly about how he didn't think about balancing you and his work life. Not saying he enjoys work, but he is dedicated to it so why can't he be dedicated to both?

Probably a bit more dedicated to you now, but still. 

Although he is a bit aloof, he shows his love in his own way. Makes sure that you get enough rest for your job, eat enough for the day, staying hydrated, making dinner when he knows you've had a long shift, or actually takes off on important days/days that you are unwell or when he just wants to spend time with you. 

~Lau~

Lau pretends to be surprised when you accidentally confess to him, but admits that he's known for a while.

He knows a lot of people and people talk.

But he's also observant despite him acting oblivious most of the time. He did notice that you were a bit more fidgety around him.

After you confess, he's ecstatic, but a bit afraid. He has a lot of enemies and is concerned about them trying to use you against him.

But that's when he triples his security, especially when he couldn't be around you.

Lau not being around you is somewhat rare. He wants to bring you with him everywhere, especially to his birth country! 

He's considered high class in China (and in England) because of his occupation plus his ties with the Qing Bang. He's going to make sure you're treated extra special. 

You're with him now, so he'll be taking care of you.

#kuroshitsuji headcannons #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji fluff #black butler headcannons #black butler x reader #black butler imagines #black butler x you #black butler fluff #kuroshitsuji x you #undertaker x you #undertaker x y/n #undertaker headcannons #undertaker fluff #william t spears x reader #william t spears x you #william t spears fluff #william x you #william x reader #william t spears headcannon #william headcannons #lau x reader #lau x you #lau x y/n #lau fluff #lau headcannons #undertaker imagines #lau imagines #william t spears imagines

[embervolkan]

Thought I’d give this writing stuff a try and what better way to do it then with your favorite white haired reaper boy heh. Anyways hope you enjoy <3

Love for the Wilting Lily

18 +

The shop was always a quiet and pleasant space. Despite the occasional bodies that were being worked on, the clients that came in to drop their loved ones off or the occasional drop in of a certain earl and his butler.

Y/n spent most their days cleaning and helping around the shop. Most times helping the Mortician of the shop with his daily chores. The usual cooking, laundry, even shopping from time to time. It was a peaceful and enjoyable job to them. They never questioned or excepted something different. This was their safe place. He was their safe place

Today was like any other day around the shop, the bell above the door only ringing from time to time with the sound of a person walking in. Y/N was in the front of the desk writing and organizing the notes and papers not paying attention to the person standing in front of them. The sound of a pen hitting papers echoed softly in the room.

“ Ah .. excuse me .. I’m here to .. plan-“

A loud bang was heard as the coffin next to the person standing near the desk opened aggressively. A small yell of surprise being heard from them. Y/n looked up with a soft sigh and chuckle, “ there you are, I was wondering where you ran off too undertaker”

A giggle left undertakers mouth as he got up dusting himself off with a small hum, “ a mighty comfortable place don’t ya think poppet” he said with a small laugh. Y/n couldn’t help but blush softly hearing that laugh of his. Their heart pounding a little.

Undertaker quickly turned his attention to the new customer, talking to them as he showed them around, listening to their requests and small cries. Y/n always wondered how undertaker did his job so well, seeing as how cheerful and funny he could be, they never really saw or seen his tender and calm side.

Undertaker glanced in Y/n’s direction with a cheeky smile, continuing his conversation with the customer. He could feel y/n’s soft gaze and smile. He chuckled softly bringing a hand to his chin , thinking as he watched the customer leave the shop

As they day went on the streets of London began to quiet down. The shop quiet like it was before, only the sound of a candle and paper being written on were heard. Y/n hummed to themselves going over their notes and work. Undertaker watched from the corner of the room. Seeing the smile of y/n’s face as if it were brighter. Their lips soft and plump. A rosey pink tone. Their tender eyes.

Undertaker felt a sense of pride seeing y/n there, here, with him. He chuckled softly again going over to them. Y/n not paying attention, focusing on the papers in front of them, a small sigh leaving them.

Their eyes tiredly retracing the words. Y/n’s focus shifted as they felt undertakers nail on their cheek, softly poking them as he stood close to them, his hips in clear view to y/n. A blush entering their face as they heard a light laugh from undertaker his hands now moving to y/n’s shoulder, his head coming closer to theirs, looking at the papers as well.

His eyes were never visible to y/n, only his silver hair that looked and felt like velvet. They never payed attention to them before until now. The glowing tint of green showing through his strands of hair. Undertaker turned his attention to y/n, their staring making his heart flutter almost. He chuckled bringing his hand away from their shoulder, moving it to their face, his fingers softly grazing on their soft and warm skin.

“ always a messy one aren’t you dearie” his fingers trialing more and more to y/n’s neck. Y/n’s heart fluttered feeling and seeing how close he was. His cold hands softly touching their skin. A soft gasp leaving their mouth as undertakers fingers trialed to their neck. Feeling the soft tickling sensation of his nails and fingertips. Undertaker looked content feeling and touching y/n. His eyes trialing their body.

Y/n looked away for a moment letting out a small laugh, “ Your quiet today .. and very-“ Undertaker brought his hand to their face again playing with their bottom lip as y/n moved back a little, surprised by the touch.

Undertaker moved his hands away with a small hum standing up with a smile, showing the ink on his hands, “ like I said poppet, always the messy one” a laugh slipping from his mouth. Y/n raised an eyebrow looking at the mirror across the room seeing the ink stains on their face. Y/n got up quickly rubbing their face as undertaker burst with laughter. Y/n scoffed, a deep blush showing on their face as they walked away in a hurry.

A new day came as y/n sat near the desk with a puzzled expression. The event from yesterday playing in their head. That same blush that appeared covered all over y/n’s face. Y’n couldn’t focus as their foot tapped on the floor. No undertaker in right they thought standing up. Their eyes glued to the floor as they walked towards the kitchen before feeling a soft fabric on their face, bumping into a certain someone’s chest.

“ I-I’m sorry I was-“

“Thinking about something?” Undertaker said with a small giggle, his arms wrapping around y/n as he looked down at them, bringing his hands to their chin to fully see their flustered face, “ Or perhaps a certain someone poppet?”

Y/n was speechless as they felt undertakers hands again on their skin. Y/n looked away fumbling on their words as they felt undertakers eyes on them. Their heart pounding, their stomach fluttering. Undertaker couldn’t help but chuckle in his low tone, seeing y/n’s adorable look.

“ I .. I was thinking about todays chores… and ..”

“ poppet, your not very good at lying I hope you know” his hands still on y/n’s face, his nails and fingertips going back to their lips like last night, “ Your face says it all” he said with a grin. Y/n’s eyes looked back up at undertaker. Their face feeling hotter than before as undertaker brought their face closer to his, practically standing on their tippy toes. Undertaker moving his face to y/n’s neck, his lips close to their ear, “ We’re you thinking about last night, because I for a fact was”

Y/n let out a gasp feeling his hot breath on their ear. Words not being a able to form as they felt his lips come closer and closer. The bell rang as the front door opened slowly. Voices being heard entering as y/n felt themselves being moved to the wall, pinned by undertaker. Y/n let out a small whimper feeling undertaker so close again. Not knowing what he was going to do.

“ Undertaker .. there’s people waiting..” y/n said in a whisper as undertaker brought his finger to their lips again shushing them. Y/n grew confused, feeling their heart beat faster. The footsteps and voices from the front of store quiet but clear enough to the both of them, y/n looked up at undertaker with a eyebrow raised, seeing his face in a serious yet calm tone. His eyes going back to y/n, lust filled with them as his Quickly brought his lips to theirs, a small moan escaping y/n’s lips.

Undertaker kept his grip on y/n tight as his head payed attention to the “customers”, while his body payed attention to y/n. Their lips soft just as he imagined, the warmth of their mouth mixing with his.

Y/n didn’t know how long they stood their, kissing one another, their pants turning into soft moans as his tongue entered their mouth. His hands moving down to their hips, bringing them closer to him as y/n wrapped their arms around his neck pulling him closer.

Undertakers teeth grazed y/n’s bottom lip, moving towards their neck, his tongue trailing and exploring them. Y/n whimpered wrapping their fingers into his hair. Their hips softly grinding into Undertakers. The voices grew quiet as it was just them now. Y/n felt his hands begin to trail underneath their clothing, his nails tickling their skin.

Y/n felt shivers along their back as undertaker hummed moving his lips back to theirs, tugging on their clothing, “ I like this shy side of you poppet” he said with a chuckle. Y/n’s face redder than ever as they pushed him away softly, panting. Undertaker took a step back with a smirk. Watching them closely before reaching his hand to their cheek, softly wiping away the mess they both made, “ Will I be receiving more later in the future dearie?” He said with a small tease.

Y/n could hardly breath, trying to process what had just happened. Not even paying attention to his words anymore. Undertaker sighed softly kissing their forehead with a hum, “ I’ll take that as a maybe” a laugh escaping his lips as he turned around and walked away.

Y/n stood their for a moment touching their lips as they slowly walked out of the room into theirs, their cheeks and stomach burning. Their hands shaking. Even through all the nerves in their body, a smile formed as they jumped into their bed, hugging their pillow tightly with a giggle, a soft sigh escaping their lips as they laid in bed, their blush still there only softer, “ Maybe …” they said in a whisper, closing their eyes with a smile.

#undertaker x reader #black butler x reader #forgive me this was my first time TvT #undertaker x y/n