#wwf undertaker x reader

[take-taker-taken]

Can I get a ABA!Taker with small reader, (im 5'0 without shoes lol) (male pref) where he works with taker and accidentally injures him during a match and taker takes him in the locker room?

Kinks: daddy kink, dry humping,dumbification, spanking maybe?

Hey, hey, Anon! Here’s your fic! No title I’m afraid because I struggle with those. Also have to give props to Randy Orton for the inspiration of Taker getting hurt. Hope you enjoy!

Untitled

“Me? You’re sure?”

“That’s what he said. That he likes what he’s seen and thinks you deserve a push.” The exec stands up and so you get to your feet as well before reaching out to shake his hand.

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate the opportunity.”

You leave the office in a bit of a daze at what’s just taken place. At first you’d been petrified that they were going to fire you and so to be told that none other than the Undertaker wants to work with you… Whoah. Immediately after leaving the room you set about trying to find him so that you can thank him personally - he’s an old school guy and so you know he would consider that the proper way to do things.

After psyching yourself up a bit, you knock on his dressing room door and hear a lazy, “Yeah?”

You open the door a little and peer around it, scanning the large room until you see the man himself sprawled on a couch watching some sports on a TV. He looks around and a slow smile creeps over his face. Not unkind, exactly, but… you can’t quite place it. You stand awkwardly at the door because truth is… well, he’s freakin’ hot.

“It’s the new kid!” He says and waves you over. “Come on in, boy.”

You step in and close the door behind you, trying to ignore the fact that he’s already unintentionally hit on one of your kinks - hearing him call you ‘boy’, and with that accent... You pause for a second as you suppress a shiver and then remind yourself that he’s probably not going to appreciate some timid little newbie hovering in the corner. You need to be polite and respectful, but confident and so you walk over until you’re only a few feet away. Damn, he’s a big guy.

“Sir, I wanted to stop by and say thank you. The office just told me that you asked about us doing a short program together because you thought I deserved a push. Coming from you, that’s a huge compliment sir, and a great opportunity. I really appreciate it, thank you.”

Taker sits up a little bit straighter, his black Harley Davidson t-shirt pulling tight across his chest and he nods. “Respect, that’s good - I like that.”

Like his smile earlier, there’s something in his tone that you can’t place but you do feel yourself blush slightly. Trying to cover it you clear your throat and shrug. “Well, yeah - you’re the locker room leader, so I figured -”

“You figure right.” He says, pointing at you with his first two fingers. “I’m the daddy.”

Oh god. You swallow and start willing your dick not to get hard as you gradually back away. “I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone now. Thank you again. Sir.”

He gives you a nod. “You got it, kid. We’ll catch up and go over some spots next week some time.”

He turns his attention back to the TV and so that’s you dismissed. You turn and leave the room, unable to shift the image of his shirt stretched tight across his chest and biceps as he gave you that smile. What was that? You decide to head to the gym and get a workout in, but find that his voice calling himself ‘daddy’ echoes around your head all day.

————————

Match day rolls around and you pace nervously in gorilla and then you turn and nearly walk smack into him. You look up - all the way up, because he has nearly two feet of height on you and you know that fear is written all over your face.

“Calm down, kid. We’re gonna go out there and tear it down, OK?” He rests one huge hand briefly on your shoulder and you glance down at it and then back up.

“Yessir.”

He nods and gives you a nudge towards the curtain as the announcer starts the spiel for you and then your music kicks in and you head on through and down to the ramp. You have a small following and of course you’re going to lose but this is the biggest match of your career so far and so you do you best to get out of your head and play up to the crowd as you reach the ring. The cheers for you die down and then Taker’s music hits and the roof comes off. It’s been decided that the ramp is too short for his bike and so he saunters down to the ring while you wait on him, trying your best not to look as intimidated as you are.

“It’ll be fine,” you tell yourself. “He’s a safe worker. One of the best. He wanted this match.”

He steps in and pulls the audience into continuing their worship as he works his way around the squared circle. Then it’s time. You step up close - you’d be touching chests if it wasn’t for the height difference - and stare up into the deadliest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. A sneer curls his lip as he stands with his hands on his hips, staring right back down at you. You know that to the watching public it probably looks ridiculous but then the bell goes and it’s game on.

You lock up, so much as that’s possible but he soon sends you sprawling to the floor, which you use as an opportunity to showcase some agility. The match gets into a nice pace and you’re starting to really enjoy yourself, giving Taker the runaround and even getting some low tackles in that slam him to the canvas, just as you’ve agreed. He has you hemmed in the corner as you take turns delivering blows to the head and he calls the big spot that you worked on.

“OK kid, you’re gonna slip under my arm, jump and bash my head on the post here, then get outta the ring and get the chair in here.”

He moves one leg back just a fraction which gives you the wriggle room to duck and with a big leap you deliver the blow to his head before nipping between the ropes. You grab the folding chair from the corner by the announcer’s table and shove it into the ring while Taker staggers about, selling the blow to his head. You pick up the chair and deliver a blow to his back and so he falls down to the canvas and you drop a couple more. As he drags himself up to all fours, you move around so that you’re standing over his head - it’s time for the big one and you raise the chair high and bring it down as he gets to his knees.

He raises his head and you realise with horror what’s about to happen - you’ve not properly factored in distance and BAM! Instead of catching him on top of his head, it glances down his forehead and opens him up. Blood appears in an instant, welling up in the cut before spilling over and trickling down in his face in a bright red curtain. You stare open mouthed at what you’ve done but he doesn’t really acknowledge it, just carries on with a couple more moves on you before grabbing and positioning you for the Last Ride. He lifts you high, high into the air and then you hear the blood rushing in your ears before you hit the canvas with a deafening thud. He covers you, the bell goes and the ref raises his arm as his theme blasts out.

Having celebrated his win he exits the ring and leaves you laying there, staring at a pool of his blood glistening bright red against the canvas. You give him a chance to make his way up the ramp before you slide out and follow dejectedly in his wake. As you walk back through the curtain gorilla is blessedly empty, so you escape the first ass-chewing that you were anticipating. You need to find him and apologise - your first really big match and you blew it. The image of him covered in blood comes to your mind and you wipe a hand over your face and moan. He’s going to kill you.

You ask a couple of crew if they’ve seen him and the second one says that they saw him heading to medical and your heart sinks. You are so finished. You consider going there to see him, but somehow don’t think your presence would be appreciated and so instead you head to the showers figuring to get changed and then catch up to him.

There’s half a dozen guys already in the locker room and they greet you enthusiastically and ask how things went. You recount the absolute disaster and they try to reassure you with all the usual ‘mistakes happen’ stuff. You nod and then grab your gel and head through to the shower while the rest of the guys continue to yell and chat with each other.

You’ve been stood under the water, lost in thought for a few minutes when it suddenly occurs to you that it’s gone quiet. Silent, in fact. Frowning, you shut off the water and grab your towel, rubbing it over your head and body before stepping into a pair of sweats before you walk round the corner to the lockers.

Taker is sat there, waiting for you. Your eyes do a quick sweep of the room and then dart back to him when he speaks.

“Ain’t nobody coming in here, boy. It’s just you and me.”

You take a couple of steps forward. “Taker, I’m sorry - I didn’t mean -”

He holds up a hand and you fall silent. “What’d you call me?”

You curse inwardly. “Sir, I -”

“Try again.”

You swallow as your mind races because there’s no way he wants you to use his given name. If it’s not Taker, and it’s not sir, the only other thing he’s mentioned… Fuck. You chew on your lip for a moment and then whisper, “I’m sorry… daddy?”

He nods slowly. “There ya go.” He beckons you closer and staring at the floor you make your way over. “Look at me, boy.”

You raise your eyes and wince when you see the now closed up cut on his forehead. “I didn’t mean to, daddy.”

“I know that,” he says and you feel relief wash over you until he adds, “but now I need to give you a receipt, don’t I?”

You almost feel like you’re on the outside looking in, because he must know that this is pushing your buttons. Your mind races as you try to think whether you’ve ever said or done anything to give the game away but you turn up a blank. You’ve always had a crush on him but figured you’d kept a lid on it, even to the point of avoiding him. You flash back to that smile he gave you that you had never quite figured out and realise that he must have seen it in you. You don’t know whether to be excited or terrified.

He stands up and you take an involuntary step back but he grabs your wrist before setting one foot up on the bench. You look at the huge boot and then back up to his face but only for a second because he jerks you forward and bends you over his thigh and then holds you in place with a hand on the back of your neck.

“Take those sweats down.” He accompanies his words with a squeeze of his hand.

You reach for your waistband and then sanity interferes. “Wh… what are you going to do?”

“Did I stutter, boy? Get ‘em down!”

With a whimper you comply, pushing the fabric down over your ass and thighs until they reach your knees and drop the rest of the way to pool around your feet.

“That’s better,” his voice is softer now. “I tell you to do something and you jump, boy.”

“Yes, daddy-ee!” Your response turns to a squeak as you feel that big hand stroke over your naked ass.

“OK, it’s receipt time.” His leg shifts slightly as he gets himself comfortable and then he gives you a gentle pat before adding, “Now, you can yell as loud as you want so long as you don’t mind anyone outside figuring out what’s happening to ya.”

With that he draws his hand back and it comes down firmly on your ass, making you gasp. Surprisingly, it’s not as painful as you thought it would be and even when the second and third smacks land it feels like maybe this is just some kind of token thing for him to do to a newbie - like mild hazing or something. By the time it gets to six you’re starting to change your mind and when a particularly hard strike lands you cry out and clutch his leg.

“OK, tha -that’s enough - I -” Suddenly you’re upright, his hand still around the back of your neck and he’s glaring at you. He bends down until his face is inches from your own and you stare at the strawberry blonde goatee as he speaks slowly in a low voice.

“Let’s get something crystal fuckin’ clear, boy. You don’t decide what’s enough - I do. Got it?” You nod and he gives you a shake. “Who does?”

“Y- you do,” you stutter and then when his looks becomes meaner still you hurriedly add, “I mean - you do, daddy.”

“Damn right.” He nods and message delivered, he bends you back over and really begins to wail on you, his palm coming down hard all over your ass and flinging your hands out of the way when you try to protect yourself. You’re shouting in pain and not caring who hears you but it’s clearly no deterrent to him and so you try a different tack.

“Please, daddy! Please stop! I’ll be good, I promise!”

Despite the pain, the embarrassment and the confusion you realise that your dick is getting hard and try desperately to will it from happening, but to no avail. Your feet drum on the floor as he continues to spank you and you’re squeezing his calf again. Eventually he stops and you blink furiously to clear the tears before he drags you upright again.

“That’s your receipt, boy. Next time you fuck up that bad it’ll be my belt, ya hear?”

You swipe a hand across your face and nod, unable to stop your other hand from creeping back to rub at your ass. “Yes, daddy. Can - can I go now?” Even as the words leave your mouth a thought flits through your brain that says, ‘Please don’t end this here…’

He still has a hold on your neck but it’s softened and is more comforting than anything else. You watch his eyes scanning down your body and then he stops and a slow smile crosses his face before he glances back up at you.

“Oh, I don’t think so boy - not yet. Now, what’s this?” His hand slips between your legs and the long, warm fingers wrap around your dick which responds rapidly and you let out a small moan. “Looks like that’s got you all hot and bothered, huh?”

You swallow and consider stuttering out a denial but what would be the point? While he’s holding your dick, his free hand wanders to his own crotch and you watch as he squeezes himself through the denim.

“You want to give it up for daddy? Got a few kinks you want me to work out, that it?”

Your head snaps up. Is he really saying what you think he’s saying? There’s that smirk again but he shocks you by abruptly letting go of your dick and pulling up your sweats. You stand there, a deep blush on your cheeks and heart pounding as it pokes out, tenting the material.

Taker picks up his gear bag, a typical black holdall, and tosses it on to the floor in front of you. You glance down at it and then back up at him but he’s already got his back turned as he walks to retrieve a chair from the far end of the room. He saunters back over and sets it down about four feet from the gear bag, which you’re standing just behind. He takes a seat as you stand there hot, bothered and horny, wondering what’s going on. He leans back, knees falling wide apart and looks up at you.

“Guess you’re hoping I’m gonna fuck you.” It’s a statement and you find yourself nodding before hurriedly stopping yourself as he chuckles. “Yeah, I thought so. But here’s the thing.” He brushes some imaginary dust from his thigh and says, “You gotta earn that.” He sits up a little straighter and folds his arms. “What d’you think about that?”

“I…” You swallow and try to focus enough to answer as you stand before your ultimate crush, aware that a damp patch is probably spreading on your pale grey sweats. “I can do that, daddy.”

He nods, strokes over his goatee and says, “Let’s find out, shall we? Get on all fours, boy.”

As though pulled by invisible strings, you drop to your hands and knees, which puts you about six inches from his gear bag. You look up, eager to pass whatever test he has in mind for you and then it’s as though your brain just short circuits. If he looked alpha male to you before, being down on all fours and looking up just wipes you out. He beckons to you, urging you forwards, but his bag is in the way… isn’t it?

“C’mon, boy… that’s it. Just get the bag underneath yourself… bit further… stop right there.”

You freeze in place when he tells you to stop and in that moment realise that your dick is just above one edge of the holdall. Your eyes are still fixed on him and that predatory smile is back on his face. Your hips drop slightly and your dick makes contact with the bag through your sweats and you gasp, lifting them up again.

“Go on, boy… rut on it.”

Somehow you’d known this was his plan when he made you crawl over the bag. You don’t think you could stop yourself even if you wanted to and so you begin to move, your swollen dick inside your pants repeatedly catching on the edge of his gear bag. The friction is delicious and you moan, head dropping down. You should be embarrassed - maybe you are - but you just don’t care and straight away begin to pick up speed.

Taker looks pleased and palms himself through his jeans again. “Feels good, don’t it? Look at you… you’re fuck drunk already, boy.” He leans forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs and the movement makes you lift your head again.

“Please… please, daddy!”

“Please what?” He shrugs and then shakes his head. “You don’t even know, do you? You’re too busy fucking yourself stupid.”

“Please daddy…” You want to say more but you just can’t form words and he laughs this time - a low, rumbling sound.

“Poor, dumb little fuckslut. Can’t even form a sentence, can you boy? You just keep going until you make a mess in your pants.”

You give up trying to speak and just nod, knowing that you’re really not far off from…

“Fuck - daddy - please!” You cry out as you start to come, the material of your light grey sweats darkening in patches with your release.

Seemingly unmoved Taker reaches forward and slides his bag out from under you, presumably to prevent it from being soiled and then to your eternal surprise he leans over and kisses you on the forehead.

“There ya go. Next time you can try it on my leg, how ‘bout that?”

You’re still on all fours and just nod dumbly. “Yes please, daddy.”

He stands up and picks up his bag, hefting it on to his shoulder. “You might wanna get up boy, before anyone comes in here and wants to know why you’re on the floor with cum stains on your pants. Just a thought.”

With that, he heads for the door and walks out, leaving you alone still staring dazedly at the chair and wondering how long it’ll be until he calls on you again.

END

#the undertaker #undertaker #this character lives in my head rent free #taker smut #wwf undertaker x reader #the undertaker x reader #TTT Tumblr Asks #the american badass #american badass x reader #american badass smut #dom!taker #sub!reader #daddy!taker

[thedeadmansgirl]

A Chance to Start Over | Chapter 04

Pairing: Mark Calaway (The Undertaker) x Female OC (Mary)

Chapter Warnings: Minors DNI 18+ Only. Divorce, labor, water (amniotic sack) breaking, douche Mark, cheating spouse, still born, pregnancy, death from childbirth (not OC)

Length: 1560k

Read on AO3 | Read on FFN | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Mark was sitting comfortably in his recliner in the den, a beer in hand, while he flipped through the channels. He had got back home from another work trip three days ago, and he barely even moved from his spot. Only getting up to go to the bathroom or get another bottle of Shiner. It would still be another few weeks before he had to go back on the road again, he figured since he basically ruined his second chance at happiness, he’d just drown himself in beer. 

He had time to let his thoughts and feelings sit and simmer. And he could never deny the fact that he loves Mary so much, and regrets saying the things he said. But at the same time, he didn’t want the heartbreak of losing another child, whether from life or its paternity.

Christ. He thought, if only Mary would see it from my eyes.  

Just then, his doorbell rang. Then it rang again, and again. He cursed as he got up, taking long strides to the front door. 

“HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN A DOORBELL IN YOUR GODDAMN LIFE?” He bellowed as he opened the door and was surprised to see Mary, sweating, huffing and red. Probably from the Texan summer heat. 

“What the hell are you doin’ here?”

She pushed her way in, ignoring her ex husband’s question. She walked through where she knew he’d have the air conditioner turned on behind the couch. She stood there and for a few seconds felt relieved by the cool air blowing on her face directly. Mark watched her with amusement and surprise, he cannot deny the fact that she looked good in the yellow sundress that clings to her bump, and hugs her breasts that are so much fuller now. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans. 

He tried to shake the thoughts away, reminding himself why they are in this situation in the first place. Then Mary turned back to look at Mark, and shoved an envelope to his chest. . 

“Please sign the fucking divorce papers.” She begged the towering man who just looked down at her in surprise. “This is the fifteenth time, Mark. Please just sign it. It’s the right one. I made sure they removed the child-support clause.” 

Mark was stunned and absentmindedly clung to the envelope. It still feels so weird to him seeing her pregnant, and she has gotten bigger since he last saw her, and he didn’t understand why he was feeling the way he does, blaming it on the summer heat. He gulped as he scanned her body and saw the quick shift in Mary’s expression, insecurity, he told himself. He knew that look so well, and it only strengthened his case when she pulled her dress further down her bump and straightened her back. 

Her breath suddenly hitched. She winced, gripping the back of the couch, but quickly schooled her expression to look as neutral as possible but Mark caught that. 

“I figured you wanted your lawyer to look at it so I waited but after not hearing from you nor any lawyer on your end—” She stopped mid-sentence to take a few short breaths through her nose as she bit her lower lip. 

“What’s the matter Mark? What do you need me to add or remove from it? I can have my lawyer create a new draft. Do you want the beach house in Florida?” She continued soon after.

Mark realized he hadn’t spoken and shook himself off his daze, “I-I don’t need the beach house.” He began and her brows just furrowed and she took a deep breath, her grip on the back of the couch was turning her knuckles white.

“Then…what…do…you want?” She asked through gritted teeth. 

“I want you back, that’s what I want! But–but this… honey, I–I can’t…” Mark stuttered, gesturing at her bump. 

“So what are you saying?” She glared at him, and Mark couldn’t understand why she was huffing. She must be really mad at me for not signing the divorce papers right away. He thought. 

“I’m saying that we can still make it work, y-you and I can still be happy together… you can–put your baby up for adoption or something then–”

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Mark stepped back and felt like he had shrunk a few feet down. He just realized what he told her and now she’s even madder. With a hand on her bump and a finger poking on his chest, she hissed, “Sign. the. goddamn. papers. NOW!” 

“Now hold on a minute, we never had the chance to talk this out. Technically, we’re still married–” 

“We don’t need to talk about anything about this. We were only married on paper and in the sack, you made it clear when I left. If you’re saying all this now just to get your dick wet, you’re asking the wrong person. Go fuck someone else.”

“Ya think I’d want you back just to fuck you–” 

“It doesn’t matter now, just sign it so it could all be over and I’ll disappear from your life just like she did.” She pushed the envelope further into Mark’s chest and returned to grip the back of the couch trying to even her breathing, one hand still on her bump. 

She knew what she said was too harsh and she saw the hurt etched in his face. 

“Fine!” He snapped and ripped the envelope open, pulling out the documents. He looked around searching for something and then he looked at Mary. “What?” Mary asked in a hiss. 

“Pen?” He asked, matter of factly. “Goddamn it Mark! Bottom drawer of that desk–” She was going to point at the desk by the den when she let out a loud groan of pain. 

"What's wrong? Tryin' fake pains to get me to sign the papers quicker?" He snorts. "Should have led with that--"

“Shut the fuuuuck uuuuuuuppppp.” Mary moaned in pain, forcing her knees to bend slightly to a squat as the pressure grew stronger towards her center. She tightly gripped the back of the couch for support while she gasped for breath. 

“I- fuck-“ The sound of water trickling down the hardwood floor “Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Mark's eyes widen in surprise and, quite frankly, nervousness, as he looks down, swallowing harshly as he realizes Mary's water broke. 

"Well shit, I think your water broke.” Mark stood there wondering what the fuck to do. 

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” Mary glared at him, letting out a long breath as the contraction eased. 

“You need to go to the hospital.” 

“You think I don’t know that? Just sign the goddamn papers, Mark and mail it to my lawyer first thing in the morning.” Mary replied, heading for the door brushing past Mark on her way out. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Mark asked in confusion, surely she’s not going to drive herself to the hospital, is she?

Mary turned back to face him from the porch with a scowl, “What the fuck do you think?” 

“Good grief, woman. It’s not safe, you’re in pain. Let me at least drive you.” Mark responded a little irritatedly, grabbing his keys and wallet from the console table in the doorway. 

“No!” Mary held up her hand before Mark could cross the threshold. “I-it’s alright, Mark. Y-you get on with your day. I’m gonna be fine.”

“No, you’re not fine, I–”

“Really, please, I insist. I-I can do it. I know you don’t want—to be in this situation in the first place. I-I can do it.” Mark saw her trying her best to school her expression, but he knew she was in pain. Despite that, Mary still mustered up a smile that was meant to reassure him and his heart just dropped and shattered. 

He could only frown at the fact that she thought that she’s bothering him and he realized just how much he fucked things up with Mary. 

Mary is the type of person who always keeps to herself and does her best to do things on her own, regardless if it’s hard or painful, because she doesn’t want to bother anyone. A rough childhood with a narcissistic mother who tells her that she’s a mistake did that to her, and if Mark felt horrible after realizing just exactly how much he fucked things up with his wife, he can’t imagine her ever forgiving him now. 

But he will never forgive himself if anything were to happen to her and there was something he could do to help it. He watched Mary waddle towards her car, but almost doubled over in pain before she could open the door, holding on to the handle as she felt the baby shifted lower. Mark rushed to her side as she gasped in both panic and pain, pleading with her. “Come on Mary, please. Let me drive you to the hospital. You’re in no shape to do it by yourself. Just–Just think of the–your baby’s safety. Yeah?” Mary was panting slightly as she looked up at Mark’s emerald eyes, and nodded and muttered a pained “O-okay.” 

“Alright, alright. Let me help you in.” Mark guided her towards the passenger side of her car and helped her settle in before running to the driver’s side and wasting no time to drive her to the hospital. 

Next Chapter

#wwf undertaker #wwf undertaker x reader #the undertaker #the undertaker imagine #the undertaker smut #wwe undertaker #american badass #the undertaker x female oc #undertaker imagines #undertaker fan fiction #The Undertaker imagines #The Undertaker Fan Fiction #the undertaker decimates rising wwe star in shock comeback #the undertaker and his pals #world wrestling federation

[andyisbleeding]

Zombie Undertaker x Reader

Chapter 1. The Power

The back of the house in most arenas is a labyrinth of gray halls with gray floors and no windows. You'll find yourself walking in circles and still not getting anywhere new. Some passing doors had small name plates, mostly offices and janitorial closets. No help to you, of course. The show is somewhere different every night so there's no use trying to remember the floor plan of the arena. By the time the tour comes back around, you'll have been to 200 other stadiums in 200 other cities, an exhausting but exciting whirlwind of work.

You've been on tour for 6 months now. Finally having a handle on the day to day duties, you've almost been able to overcome the lack of sleep schedule with the help of daily energy drinks and sitting up naps in quiet corners. Friends were easily made, both crew and wrestlers know these are the only people you'll get to see for months at a time. This is your new family, you feel welcome. As long as you pull your weight and aren't a raging asshole, everyone gets along surprising well.

Of course people have their cliques and squabbles. Some fights do break out but most are warranted and broken up quickly by the rest of the boys. People make up pretty quickly, knowing that you can't get away from each other is the best way to snuff out that flame.

You continue to wander down the cement hallway, hoping that a sign or person comes along soon. It feels like you've walked the whole arena by now, 'how the fuck do you get back to the locker rooms?'

Stepping out to smoke a joint with the lighting crew seemed like a good idea at the time. The door locking loudly behind you was when you all realized you'd made a mistake.

"Who doesn't put a wedge in the door Dave!" The group tears into the rail thin man. "What is your first day?" "Narc!" "Fuck you Dave." You all erupt in laughter, slapping the man on the back.

You hear soft footsteps coming quickly towards you. The hallway finally coming to an end with only a right hand turn for a direction.

You turn the corner and come face to face, or perhaps belly to belly with Paul Bearer himself.

You stopped quickly to not run smack into the stout man and tried to side step out of his way. Two beady eyes scanned you up and down and made a snap decision. He arched his dark eyebrows at you and twisted his face into an all knowing smirk. "Lost your way little sparrow?"

You swallow hard and force a polite smile onto your face. No need to make an enemy of Paul Bearer, keeper and manager of The Undertaker. "Yes sir actually. Would you mind pointing me in the right direction?" You hold your breath.

Paul cocks his head ever so slightly. Taking in your request and rolling it around in his round head. He smooths out his mustache while he decides if he's going to answer. He looks you up and down again. You don't shy away from his gaze, making sure your eyes meet his when he studies your face. His face twists up again into an approving grin, he gestures behind him.

"Back the way I came," Paul said softly. "Two rights and you'll be back where you belong, little bird." He turned on his heel and went on his way. For a chubby guy, he was very light on his feet, you remarked to yourself. It must come with being a funeral director.

"Thank you!" You call after him. He doesn't seem to hear you or chooses not to respond, either way the encounter went well and you're no longer lost.

Paul's word was good, and in a matter of minutes you walk into the staging area. Stage hands and wrestlers lingering around monitors and craft service tables. A large digital clock blinked the time over head. 8:30 PM. The show had essentially just started. You'd be willing to bet that someone was probably still monologuing in the ring and the first fight hadn't even started yet.

You don't have much of a job during the show. You help with set up and tear down and occasionally help out the art department when they have an extra large job. Tonight was going to be a pretty quiet night. Maybe you'll find yourself a dark locker room and get a much deserved nap.

You decide to check the title card just to recheck the roster. You enjoy watching the fights but the chance to catch up on sleep is far and few between. Nothing pops out at you from the schedule so you wander back towards the locker rooms. People were scattered through the halls, leaning, laughing, talking business. A little bit of everything gets talked about when you spend 24/7 with the same group of people. No topic is off limits and no shame is known.

You walk past the bigger locker rooms. That's where people really congregate, mostly the wrestlers and managers but definitely no peace or quiet. A few of the guys have their own dressing rooms, those are labeled and almost always occupied and locked. You step up to the first door with no name tag. You knock softly as you twist the handle and crack the door. "Hello?" No response. You push open the door wide and glance around the room. Empty minus a loveseat and a small coffee table. No bags, no people, perfect.

You're tempted to lock the door but know that could end poorly. If someone comes looking, you need to actually be findable. You curl up on the love seat, facing the open room and cover up yourself with the flannel you had around your waist. You're a pretty light sleeper so when the taping ends and people get rowdy, you'll be up and ready for tear down. The love seat was lumpy and smelled like stale cigarettes but your eyes were heavy as soon as you were horizontal. You drifted away to the far away sounds of the WWF.

********

You shiver awake.

The whole room was freezing and foggy. You're surprised you can't see your breath as you sigh and bring your flannel tighter around you. 'Why is it so cold in here?' You think to yourself. You slowly bring your wrist to your face. The room is too dark and your eyes are still adjusting to being open again. Trying to read your watch was impossible. Your legs bump up against the coffee table as you put yourself upright. That's odd. The table wasn't that close when you laid down.

You feel his gaze before your eyes fully adjust to the dark room. Truly only lit by the hallway light coming through the thin door window, the corners of the room are pitch black. You look into the darkness in the far corner and it stares back at you. Silent and cold. Two piercing green eyes stare at you through a curtain of wet curly hair.

What little warmth you had left exited your body. A gasp escaped your lips as you realized who was standing in the shadows. There wasn't a name on the door. You're sure of it. No bags. Everyone had language, even him. There were no bags when you started your nap. No inkling of habitation. The room was too small to have overlooked anything.

The Undertaker took a stiff slow step towards you. His large frame, now outlined by the small strip of light coming through the door.

You stand up suddenly. Your legs are cold and numb but you've realized your mistake and now need a swift exit. "I'm so sorry Undertaker. I didn't know this was your room. There wasn't a name on the door." Your voice sounded small and far away. You clear your throat. "Sorry again. Let me get out of your way."

The Undertaker took another step forward. He hasn't blinked. You realize he's a full foot taller than you, maybe even more. You notice how sore your neck is from your little nap as you look up at him. He's still in his wrestling gear. Was he waiting for you to leave to change? Why hadn't he woken you up and kicked you out? Paul Bearer. Paul Bearer was the doer. He controlled The Undertaker, or at least claimed to. But Paul was absent. Maybe he sent Undertaker to the locker room on his own.

You've been frozen to the spot ever since you stood up. All the thoughts running through your head distracted you and he had stepped towards you again. Now you're face to chest with the Undertaker. His neck craned downward towards you, the never ending stare still taking you in. He smelled like wet earth after a fall rain. You couldn't hear him breathe. You couldn't feel any body heat coming off of him. You wondered if his skin would be cold to the touch.

Your hand twitches. Why do you want to touch him so badly? You picture touching his bare chest and then sliding down his stomach. Your face is red and warm now with embarrassment, at least mostly. You remind yourself how you remarked on how handsome he was when you saw your first fight as crew. His red beard covered a square jawline, constantly clenched and almost never moving. His sad green eyes had lost their light sometime long ago. Maybe back when he was alive.

He must have seen your hand twitch, or maybe he saw your face suddenly turn red in the freezing room. A purple gloved hand slowly made its way towards your bare forearm. You don't shy away as the cool leather touches your skin. His fingers wrap around your wrist, tightening slowly like a constricting snake. You tilt your head back to look into the Deadman's eyes. His expression hasn't changed but his gaze moved away from your face and onto your wrist and his own hand. He was holding you tightly but it didn't hurt. You're not sure if you could pull away even if you wanted to. He was the strongest man in the WWF and you'd seen him take apart people 3 times your size.

His eyes snap back to yours.

His stare is too intense, so you drop your gaze to his pale lips. They look soft and you wonder how they'd feel against yours. How they'd feel against your neck and then your chest and you suddenly realize your panties are wet. Your face burns even warmer in the cold room, a beacon in the darkness. You pray he can't read minds, he is supernatural after all. Being dead seems to come with a few good perks so why not telepathy? You find yourself wanting to lean against his huge frame. You want your lips against his and his hands on more of you than just your wrist. You look back into his eyes, trying to tell him everything you were thinking in just a look. You could kiss him if you go on your tiptoes, you think. You look at his lips again. Neither of you have moved since he grabbed your wrist.

Unsure where you found the courage or maybe the audacity but you couldn't stop yourself. You make yourself as tall as possible and put your lips against his. His lips are cool but not cold and surprisingly soft. His ginger beard scratched against your chin. He hasn't moved. You realized you closed your eyes as your lips met. Do you dare open your eyes? Could you take the emerald stare and rage probably growing on the Undertaker's face? No. You really couldn't. You feel stupid. Having a crush. Kissing a man you've never had a conversation with let alone a dead one. You start to pull away and the grip on your wrist tightens.

Your eyes snap open in shock. You're met with his dark eyes closed and his face moving closer to yours. His lips are back against yours, the deadmans kiss was unsure. He seems to be taking your lead, he's out of practice perhaps. You press your body against his and lean into his kiss. He fells so good against you. You shift your mouth on his and your noses bump against each other. You're so wet you're worried about it showing through onto your jeans. You want him to touch you all over. You want him to kiss you all over, to tear your clothes off, to pin you against the wall and fuck you until you scream.

The Undertaker pulls away suddenly, returning to his full height and taking a large step away from you. Your wrist is hot where his tight grip was. Your body is vibrating. You snap back to reality as you realize he's no longer against you. You wonder why the abrupt halt and immediately find out why. The door opens swiftly, almost like it was kicked open. The light switch clicks on and you go momentarily blind.

"Taker, why are you in here? Your room is down the… hall…" Paul Bearer's voice fills the little room. High pitched and doating, his sentence slowly came to a stop. Your eyes were still adjusting but you could feel his puzzled stare on your red checked face. "What are you doing in here little bird?"

You decided the truth was the best answer, up to the kissing part anyway. "I came in here to take a nap during taping. There wasn't a name on the door. I woke up a few minutes ago and he was just… here." You gesture to the big man, still as a statue. "I was just leaving, I need to go start tear down."

Paul's face twisted around as he spoke. His chubby fingers tapped on the gold urn tucked in the crook of his arm. Paul looked from you to the Undertaker and then back to you. He glanced at his watch dramatically and let out a sigh. "You still have a half hour until you tear down. You stay here little sparrow. Taker and I will find our way to OUR locker room." The stout man gestured at the Undertaker to follow him and then swiftly turned on his heel and retreated from the room.

The Undertaker's eyes cut into you once more. You look up to meet his gaze, holding it for a moment. You swear you can see a twinge of red on his lips, warmth transferred from yours. His right arm crossed over and straightened the glove on his left hand. The hand that had held you tightly, the glove being the only thing between your skin and his. His stare dropped to your lips until he turned to follow Paul. To follow the gold urn. To follow the power.

#wwf undertaker #wwf undertaker x reader #undertaker #undertaker x reader #smut #chapter 1 #fan fiction

[sanman2022]

Just some random gifs of people

#the undertaker x reader #the undertaker #john morrison #shawn michaels #hbk #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #chris evans #captain america #bret hart #kenny omega #jey uso #wwe raw #wwe #wwe smackdown #marvel #aew dynamite #aew #wwf #nxt #wwe nxt #the usos

[blowflyfag]

Alright gonna be brave here’s my lil undertaker fic I think this will legit be the first one I’ve ever posted soo uhh yeah. I listened to Cemetery Girl by ICP while writing this and Sacrifice by London After Midnight. If you like it please give me suggestions on how to improve and also!!! Maybe request if u want me to write something :3

Cemetery Boy.

90s Undertaker x Male (Wrestler) Reader

The cold stone walls of the funeral parlor felt as if they actively could repeal someone, a sign to not enter without even having any words. Danger, turn back, run. But you weren’t planning on that… no. You were gonna do what no sane man ever dared to. Enter the den of the Undertaker. You’ve seen his matches, the phenomenon that was the deadman. To think of that power on your side? You could be unstoppable.

So you had to brave the trek through the cemetery that seemed to have a perpetual fog and chill in the air. Crows cawing and staring at the graves they rested on as they picked at feathers and cawed. You fiddled with the large key in your hand, shaking for no real reason… the amount of work you had to put in to even get this key was ridiculous… but it’d be worth it in the end. It had to be worth it. The key clicked in the lock and the door seemed to open on its own, slowly, ever so slowly it creaked open. You only cringed at the sound…. If he didn’t know you were in his domain… he surely did now. You took a step in, darkness, the parlor was full of just darkness and perpetual scent of formaldehyde and dust. The only thing that really stood out in the small slimmer of sun from the outside was a vase set upon a table covered in mortuary tools… at least you assumed that’s what they were. But in the vase a bundle of white Lilies. You were shocked by the pristine condition they were in, pushing yourself away from the door to walk towards them before gasping as the door seemed to slam shut. Leaving you in the darkness. You frantically looked around, eyes wide as you tried to adjust to the darkness, you frantically felt around in your jacket pocket, you always kept a box of matches on you in case of emergencies. Shaky hands struggling to strike a flame against the matchbox and once it did you could stare at the white eyes staring back to your own. Ginger hair draped over his face yet the whiteness of his eyes stood out and shook your soul.

A hand reaching out to roughly grab at your neck. You let out a choked gasp as you were hoisted in the air, box of matches falling to the floor as several spilled on the floor. You kicked and grabbed at the hand around your neck, desperate to try and get air into your lungs. His touch, even with the gloves on, was freezing, unnaturally so. As if he had just had his hands in ice.

“Why…. Are you here…?” The gravelly voice spoke. Slow and full of malice..? Was that even the right way to put it? You did kind of just barge into his home.

“J-just wanted to talk man! P-please!” You sputtered out, your face was feeling hotter and hotter as you struggled to pull enough air into your lungs… it seems he contemplated for a moment before dropping you, falling to the floor with a thud as you hacked and desperately tried to pull air into your lungs.

“I don’t care what you have to say… leave.” He spoke coldly as he turned on his foot. You managed to hoist yourself up and huffed. “J-just listen to me man! We could work together! I know you don’t need your help but I do.” You tried to plead. It was embarrassing. “I… I want to be taken more seriously by all of those assholes! They’re all scared of you. If… if you and I were to team up they’d have to take me seriously too!” You begged before watching as the form stopped, your eyes had grown adjusted to the darkness by now. He stood still… the air having a similar sense of stillness.

“What’s in it for me… you have nothing you could offer me…”

“I know that.. so I’ll work for whatever it is you want! Money? I’ll get it for you. Championbelts? I’ll do my fucking best to get them for you. I just-“ you were cut off by him speaking again.

“I have no need…. For your… monetary mortal needs… but. I’ll humor you.”

Your eyes widened. He was going to do it. He was actually going to help you. Your eyes lit up and your smile grew. “Holy shit… you’re serious! You’re going to-“

“Under one condition…”

Your eyes widened. You made a deal with the Deadman. Why did you even think this was a good idea? No no this was an awful idea… but your mouth spoke before your mind. “What is it…”

“Your soul… Will be mine.” He spoke as if it was normal. As if promising your soul to someone was just a normal Tuesday event… you needed this though right..? You needed to be able to stand out. To become something. To prove that… this was what you were supposed to be.

“It’s all yours..” you responded after a moment. Meeting his gaze you gulped and he went closer towards you. His hand reached out to touch your face. He tilted his head to the side, hair covering his face, his touch still just a frigid yet… Now it was comforting in a sense, contrasting to your heated face after the choking. His head jolted up however at a speed with which you hadn’t expected from him, just as quickly as you felt the touch you felt a different kind. A shove to your chest as you were pushed into plushness. Your eyes widened. “Hey what’re you-“ you were cut off as he held a finger towards his mouth. As if to say quiet. As he went to shut the coffin door. Your eyes widened in panic as you tried to peak through a crack… seeing however the reason why you had been hidden. Paul Bearer. You brought your hands to your mouth to cover your breathing… you felt bad for listening over the two, talking about upcoming matches… a casket match against Yokozuna…

“And clean up this mess!” Paul Bearer ended, he must’ve been talking about your spilled matchbox. You watched as he walked off.. Taker staring as he made his way off as well and once he was gone Taker approached the coffin, pulling the door open to look down at you. “You should leave…” he began before walking over towards the matchbox. Picking it up and shoving it to your chest. You quickly scrambled to grab it before nodding.

“Right… right I.. uh.. I’m… Excited to work with you Taker..” you said with a small smile.. oh it was going to be such an interesting change. The newbie with the undertaker? It’d be perfect. It’d be bigger than Shawn Micheals and his Bodyguard. It had to. You followed Taker towards the door, pushing it open slightly to let you out. You took one last look at him with a smile as you gave a little wave. He seemed confused for a moment… raising his own hand and giving a slow wave back… he had a lot of customs to learn.. but that's Alright, you had all the time to teach him. You nodded before turning off and walking into the fog of the cemetery. It wasn’t scary this time though, the fog seemed lighter in a way. Crows simply jumping around and picking through flowers for shiny bits of twine that held them together… this was just The Undertaker's home… and you’d have to get used to it, maybe you already were.

#undertaker x reader #wwf x male reader #wwf #undertaker #undertaker wwf #undertaker x male reader #90s undertaker #Blowfly Writes

[aj-the-cat]

"Whiskey" Business

Masterlist

Undertaker (Big Evil) and F!Reader

Tags: @ava-valerie

(If you'd like to be on my tag list, please let me know!)

Warnings: Slight language and alcohol use

Notes: I'm so sorry for the pun. And if it isnt obvious, I know nothing of poker. So uh, be warned.

Bootsteps floated down the backstage hallway of the arena. It was a good half a day before the show started, leaving talents scrambling off to do something to pass the time.

Some would go over their matches, squabbling in the ring or to themselves somewhere backstage.

Others liked to sleep, or at least get a good nap in before a prankster came around and shaved off one of their eyebrows.

Undertaker? He wouldnt say no to a card game or dominoes and a nice glass of Jack Daniels. He had a deck in his back pocket, itching to find a good spot and relax before the show.

He walked most of the backstage area before settling at what looked like an abandoned APA spot (Arenas would keep the table up for the APA just in case they came back to the same arena again, they liked their company).

Taker pulled out the cards and put them on the table, before settling into one of the provided metal chairs. He stretched his legs out and begin setting up the cards for a solitaire game.

A couple games and some curious people later, an irritated sigh escaped his lips. "If only I had some damn whiskey." He muttered. He had forgotten to ask where the nearest ABC store would be located before driving here from the hotel. Whiskeyless, he continued his fourth game.

At the sixth game, tiny bootsteps fluttered down the hallway where Taker was located. When they grew louder, he looked up from the table and watched a small woman saunter up to his table. He smirked as he recognized her familiar cropped leather jacket and snug ripped jeans.

Her hair was clipped back neatly and her shirt rode up a little, catching part of her low waisted jeans and exposing a little midriff. She stopped at his table and held up two whiskey glasses. "Up for a game of poker, big man?" She teased. Taker's eyes glowed in amusement. He gestured to the open seat across from him. "Be my guest."

She sat down and put the bottles on the table, and took out a box of mini poker chips from her jacket. "Deal me in, hotshot. Loser each game takes a swig." She motioned to the bottles. If she was gonna get hammered tonight, thank god she didnt have to wrestle. Tonight was RAW, she was on Smackdown!.

Taker dealt the cards, took some chips, and they began. They both werent very good at poker, she had a terrible pokerface while Taker misjudged hands. But he could hold his liqueur.

She was a different story.

After a 6 game losing streak, her eyes grew heavy and she swayed a little in her seat. Taker looked up from his cards at her, and decided to make a play.

He set down his cards. "Straight." Her eyes glittered and she set down hers. "Full House." She beamed and Taker took a long swig from the shared bottle. It was almost empty anyways, so he finished it off.

He looked up and she had layed her head on the table, with light snores escaping her lips. Taker smirked and begun clearing up the table, putting the cards back in the deck and fitting the scattered poker chips into the box.

He put the things into his jeans pocket and stood up, stretching his long limbs and hearing satisfied cracks. He walked over to the woman and gently picked her up bridal style, pushing the chair in with the toe of his boot and grabbing the bottles with his knuckles.

He walked towards his locker room, which thankfully was private and two hallways down, and glared at anyone in his way.

When he got there, he got someone to open the door for him, then promptly scared them away as he held the door with a boot.

Carefully, he set you down on the couch and set the empty and full bottles of whiskey on the coffee table. Looking around, he saw his jacket hanging up. He plucked it off its peg and draped it over the woman's sleeping body. She shifted a little, and gripped the jacket in her hand as she slept.

Taker watched her sleeping form, her soft features relaxed and unmoving. He bent down, planted a soft kiss on her forehead, and walked out of the locker room, staying close just in case she wakes up before the show.

When the show started, he taped a note on the door reading,

"If anyone opens this door, your own mama wont recognize you when you go home to her."

Nobody opened the door that night.

#undertaker #big evil #x reader #fanfic #wwf #wwe

[kayfabebabe]

Only in Dreams

Kane’s mind can be a dangerous place, even when he’s asleep.  This chapter was born, simply, from the Human having a terrifying nightmare and spending hours watching comfort matches to settle again. 

Kane X Female Reader  WARNING - Angst. Nightmares. Comfort/Fluff. Everything in italics is happening in Kane’s dream. 

~ ~ ~ 

“Boys! Dinner’s ready!” 

Even in the farthest corner of the property, beyond the trees in the dried-up river bed, the boys could hear their Mother calling for them. It was barely dusk with the heat of the day easing into a cool night and shadows beginning to grow longer. Both of the brothers stalled, far too enraptured by a small lizard frantically scuttering over the rocks. They had spent the entirety of the day exploring the very edges of their family’s land in hopes of discovering a secret treasure for themselves. The only things that they found were a few old bottle caps, some interestingly shaped-rocks and patches of Pickleweed. 

“Mother will want us to wash up.” 

“One moment, Little Brother…” 

The taller of the boys speaks over his shoulder whilst slowly creeping towards the lizard. He was determined that he was going to catch, at least, one thing before heading home. As the youngest watched patiently, the trees seemed to inch closer and the sky darkened too quickly. 

No.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. The sweetened breeze of a Summer day was gone and the forest grew still around the smaller boy. Silent and suffocating. He turns to hurry the elder brother in his ridiculous venture, but he wasn’t there.  

“Brother?” 

The sharp ‘snap’ of a twig behind the boy catches his attention and, when he looks in that direction, any breath in his lungs is stolen. Men in long, white coats. They loom as tall as the trees, menacing spectres of a life that he is yet to live. Lost without the guiding hand of his older brother, the boy runs in hopes of distancing himself from the men. They followed. No matter how hard he pushed himself forward, the men were never far behind and they were slowly getting closer. 

“Brother!”

“Kane!” 

~ 

“Kane… Kane.”

Everything came back into sharp focus at once; starched covers bunched at his feet, the warm glow of a bedside lamp and gentle hands holding onto his shoulders. The corrupted memory fades into a distant echo and Kane can, finally, see you knelt in front of him. With your hair unkempt and oversized shirt threatening to fall from your leaner frame, you’re a true sight to behold. A refuge.

“You’re safe, Big Guy. I’ve got you…” 

Kane crumbles, hiding his face to the crook of your neck whilst his arms wind around your waist almost too tightly. Even hidden behind the mask, you knew his eyes were damp with tears and you could hear the harsh rasp of his breathing. Kane had, unfortunately, lost count of the number of his nightmares that you’d witnessed. They were so frequent that he was adamant that you’d grow frustrated with the aftermath of them and his constant need for comfort. But you never did. No level of exhaustion deterred you from staying awake until you were sure Kane was settled again. 

Minutes passed before Kane allowed the pair of you to lay down, clinging to your side as if you would slip through his fingers when he let go. The room was silent aside from the soft promises of safety that you whispered into the top of your boyfriend’s head. Your quiet words felt like a wave of cool water over burning embers. Soothing and relieving. All of the ghosts that relentlessly haunted Kane’s mind were gone. There were no longer men in white coats chasing after him and Kane knew - or, at least, he had some idea - where his older brother resided. 

For now, Kane could rest. 

~ ~ ~ 

#Kane #WWF #Writing #Fanfiction #Kane X Reader #Angst #Hurt/Comfort #Fluff #Female Reader #Fanfic #This has been in my draft for months #LITERAL MONTHS #I'm back on my writing bullshit #Comfort #Hurt #Kane X Female Reader #The Undertaker #UT

[shaeuigi]

i’ll gladly be his manager . LITERALLY🫣.

#wwe #wwf #wrestling #imagines #x reader insert #the undertaker #big evil #american badass #wwe gifs

[judgementdaysunshine]

Surprise help

Pairing: Undertaker x Fem reader

Description: After winning your big match and getting attacked, an unexpected person comes to your aid

You were pushing yourself to your limits in your match against Trish Stratus, you were still a rookie not only for only being in WWF for two years but from your young age only being 22. You yell in pure frustration as you pull off a spear against her before pinning her down and yelling in joy after the three count crying tears of joy knowing that you would be going to Wrestlemania against Lita, all of a sudden you feel more pain in your body and the adrenaline comes back to you when your hit from behind screaming as your hit with a chair, a sledgehammer, and kicked by different pairs of feet knowing one pair was trish but not being able to see who the other three pairs belonged to as you desperately try to fight back tasting blood in your mouth and feeling your eye swell close until suddenly a bell rings and the lights go out hearing arguing and someone jumping out of the ring feeling a pair of feet beside you when you move to crawl away. The lights come back on and the crowd cheers loudly as you look up to see The Undertaker above you staring daggers into the faces of X-pac, Tori, and Triple H before leaning down in front of you as you see dots in your vision slowly being lifted up vaguely seeing red and hearing a soft voice speak angrily knowing it was Chyna so Kane was likely with her as you go out being carried in the dead man's arms backstage, you wake up later on to find yourself in the hospital with an ice pack over your eye, bandages on quite a bit of your body, and stitches over your lower lip turning your head to see the tall man yet again holding your smaller hand in his much bigger ones rubbing over your knuckles with his thumb not knowing you had woken up until he looks up and smiles which stuns you but also makes you melt in a surprising way as he gently caresses your face slowly checking your right eye which looked better than earlier and wasn't swollen closed anymore "You had me worried there as i brought you backstage". Slowly as you recovered and came back to training you were welcomed back by the tall man growing close to each other which surprised everyone watching the two of you grow more close and even to everyone's shock that the two of you fell for each other not too long after you had been back and became tag team partners winning quite a few matches together even against Stephanie and triple h plus trish and Bubba Dudley getting together during the holiday break from training and matches, your shared friends always smiled when they saw the two of you in the gym, the hallways backstage, your shared locker room, or the ring side by side and hand in hand.

#the undertaker x reader #wwe #wwe x reader #the undertaker

[wrxsslin-hours]

helloooooooooooo

⤷ fic reqs are closed for now, the brain aint braining :((

⤷ I'm Muriel, 19, and I write wwf fanfic stuff

⤷ I'm on my Shawn Michaels brainrot so I mainly write fics focused on him.

⤷ Check out my other sideblogs: @blondetaffy for gifs and @y2kstratusfaction for x-readers (its dead as shit tho my apologies)

⤷ If you have any requests for fics or headcanons then feel free to send an ask!

⤷ Here are some of the pairings I write for:

▸ Bret Hart x Shawn Michaels

▸ Triple H x Shawn Michaels

▸ Diesel x Shawn Michaels

▸ Undertaker x Shawn Michaels

▸ Honestly, you can request for other wrestlers to pair Shawn up with

⤷ If you don't wanna request anything then feel free to drop by and say hello :D

Bret x Shawn Fics:

BretShawn Highschool AU: Where local highschool degenerate Shawn and band geek Bret are too shy to ask each other out

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ Headcanons (Part 1)

BretShawn Actor AU: Where Shawn is an actor instead of a wrestler

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ Headcanons (Part 1)

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡° ✩ Shawn Gives Bret Acting Lessons

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡° ✩ Acting lessons escalate into something more (nsfw)

Hey, Lover: The quintessential delivery boy x househusband au

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Taker x Shawn Fics:

Taker has a soft spot for Shawn: Where, despite being total opposites, Taker grows fond of Shawn

Other Oneshots:

ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ Diesel Judging Shawn's Taste in Men

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡° ✩ Hunter Learns About Shawn's Love Life

#masterlist #dividers by: cafekitsune

[rawiswhore]

Shawn Michaels x Fem Reader- "Orgasm Addict"

When D Generation X was originally comprised of Shawn Michaels, Triple H, and even Chyna (and to an extent---Rick Rude), at the end of 1997 DX nearly actually got "Monday Night Raw" taken off the air.

I wish I was making this up, but I'm not.

And there are certain reasons why "Monday Night Raw" almost was cancelled thanks to them, and this no doubt was one of them.

This moment definitely shocked people---specifically those who remember the family friendly and kid friendly World Wrestling Federation from the 1980's and even the early to mid 1990's.

It wasn't too long before 1997 when the WWF had wrestlers playing garbage men, plumbers, racecar drivers, baseball players, hockey players, cowboys, farmers, 70's teen idols, evil dentists, and an evil Santa Claus.

Even at the beginning and middle of 1997 there were still some wrestlers in the WWF playing plumbers, farmers, racecar drivers, hockey players, country singers and rockabilly musicians.

On a "WWF New York" episode in November of 1997, you were backstage in the locker room with Shawn Michaels, where he was dressed in his signature Heartbreak Kid tights with slightly torn hearts on them.

He wore red colored tights so the audience could clearly see what he's hiding under those tights.

Shawn's crotch and lap covered by his signature tights were being filmed by a camera, and what the camera was filming was Shawn's lap and crotch covered by those aforementioned tights as well as your hand.

As the guitar riff to Slam Jam's "We're All Together Now" played and the camera was filming his crotch, one of your hands was grabbing his penis covered by his tights, where your hand masturbated up and down his erection.

Your hand didn't slip under his tights when you jerked him off, your hand was masturbating his penis covered by his tights, rubbing up and down it.

Your fingers were wrapped around the shaft of his dick when you masturbated him.

While you masturbated Shawn, he was faking an orgasm and fake moaning.

It really was his penis and his erection you were jerking off on camera.

The fabric of his tights was tickling the shaft of his penis, but it felt so good and arousing for him.

This moment no doubt shocked people in the audience, making their eyes grow wide.

Even though DX were usually on "Monday Night Raw" and pay-per-views, here's a moment on "WWF New York" that made people's jaws drop.

It might've no doubt caused controversy, but the ratings for "WWF New York" did not increase, even though it did get people talking about it.

You were a girl and you did boundary pushing things during the Attitude era.

You were a member of D Generation X who helped do boundary pushing, edgy things with them...some of the things you did were even more boundary pushing.

The World Wrestling Federation during the late 1990's nearly was rated TV-MA because of you.

Not Stone Cold, Mick Foley, Kane, the Undertaker, D Generation X, the Godfather, Val Venis, or even the Rock, but you.

And you're a girl.

Girl power!

Even though you enjoyed masturbating Shawn Michaels' penis, there are so many male wrestlers wearing tights that you'd love to masturbate while they're wearing tights, singlets, or even wrestling trunks.

______________________________________________________________

This fanfic was inspired by a dream I had about wrestler Leif Cassidy--who would later play Al Snow during the Attitude era.

But Leif Cassidy was in the WWF when the company was still mostly kid friendly in 1996, and Leif looked terrible in 1997 when he grew that handlebar moustache.

#shawn michaels #wwf #1997 #90s

[take-taker-taken]

could i please have comfort fluff with a quiet, shy reader who cries sometimes from feeling ugly and like no one likes or cares about her with 1997 lord of darkness taker? she doesn't want to bother him with her troubles but he wants to hear her

maybe a bit erotic too..

Ok, so whenever I try to write Ministry!Taker, what comes out is a Lord of the Manor type. I find it hard to write him within a wrestling universe due to the nature of the character, so it always ends being in an AU with an air of magic powers and mysticism - I hope that’s OK! I also didn’t quite get there with the eroticism, so I’m sorry about that - just felt that if I’d tried to add it then it would have seemed shoe-horned in and rushed.

Obsidian & Lilium

You didn’t realise that you could be heard. You thought you’d found a quiet spot when the sadness overtook you and so when the door to the under stairs cupboard opens you squeak in shock.

“Now, what do we have here?” The deep voice rumbles and then his head and shoulders appear in the now open doorway.

Your eyes go wide and your throat freezes up when you realise that it’s the master of the house. Unable to respond in the moment you hurriedly wipe a hand over your face.

“Out you come, girl.” His tone is gentle but firm and then he steps back, allowing you room to slink out of your hiding place. You stand before the giant of a man, the head of the Ministry of Darkness himself - the one known as The Undertaker, and try desperately to stop crying.

He steps away briefly as your tears reduce to sniffles and you notice that he’s at the sink. He turns back and presents you with a cool, damp cloth which you take and wipe over your face. You remain in stunned silence as he takes your hand and leads you to the table, taking a seat and indicating that you should do the same.

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me why you’re crying?”

You lift the cloth to your mouth and try not to get overwhelmed. The very idea that the Lord of Darkness is here with you ‘below stairs’ is enough to send you reeling, never mind that he’s talking to you as well.

You shake your head and mumble behind the cloth, “It doesn’t matter.”

His expression remains neutral but he reaches out and plucks the material from your hand, dropping it to the table. You glance up at him guiltily, realising that you should be showing more respect and add, “It’s nothing, sir.”

He taps his long, pale fingers gently against the table top. “Enough to have a member of my ministry hiding away in a cupboard and crying. I should say that matters.”

You stare at the digits in fascination, seeing for the first time how many of them are bent as though they’ve perhaps been broken. You notice the faint freckles that pepper the back of his hands and his short, neat nails. You’ve never been this close to him and find it surprising that you don’t feel particularly scared.

“Something has upset you,” he continues. “Has anybody spoken unkindly to you?”

You look up at him and a sigh escapes before you can stop it. He doesn’t react beyond a twitch of that pierced eyebrow and so you elaborate. “Nobody speaks to me, sir. Why would they?”

“I cannot imagine why they wouldn’t, little one.”

Your eyes raise to him in surprise at the mild endearment and he nods encouragingly. You pick up the cloth again and dab at your eyes but then shake your head as you say quietly, “It’s not important. Please, I - I shouldn’t be taking up your time like this.”

He reaches across and strokes a lazy circle on your hand with one finger. “I get to decide how I spend my time - no one else.”

Your hand seems to tingle at his touch and it’s clear that you’re to keep talking. You concentrate on the pattern he’s drawing on your skin and let the words fall out, even though the reality of it makes your voice crack a bit. “Nobody really likes me, sir. There’s no one to care about me - it’s not as if I’m pretty or anything.”

“Nonsense.” He waits for you to finish but is quick with his simple rebuttal. “I’ve spent only a few moments in your company and I find you perfectly likeable, so why shouldn’t others?” He continues on as you sit in rather stunned silence. “I myself care about each and every member of my ministry, and as to your last point, well…” He stops tracing his finger over your skin and instead takes your hand in his. “You are most definitely a pretty little thing. I expect even nicer without red eyes from all those tears.”

You stare at your joined hands, his covering yours completely and then glance up at him. His expression is inscrutable and you swallow. “It’s very kind of you - too kind, sir - to say that but,”

“I never say things that I do not mean, little one.” His interruption is quiet but firm and then you’re astonished to see that he’s smiling. Not the cruel or sarcastic smirks that you think you’re used to seeing sometimes on the faces of those around you, but a genuine smile - albeit small, but that somehow makes it even more real. Unbidden, you feel yourself returning it. “There, now - such a pretty smile.”

“Thank you,” you reply as you feel yourself blushing. Doubt still nags at you, however, and you say wistfully, “I wish it were true, sir. It seems that being attractive is valued more highly than anything. And that will never be me.”

He stands up without releasing your hand and so you have little choice but to get up with him. “Valued by those without the brains to value much else,” he says. “I would like you to take a walk with me.”

It’s a question and yet not one, given how he presents it with such finality - of course, he is used to being obeyed. You’re not about to try and resist his will, so you nod and with one hand in his and the other clutching the cloth, he leads you from the room.

He takes you up the stairs and through the main house which makes your head swivel around as you take it all in. The next familiar sight you see is the gardens - you love it when you get the opportunity to walk near here, though you’ve never seen it properly. You wish it wasn’t dark and it seems silly to stroll about when it is.

“A walk in the gardens when it’s dark, sir?” You can’t help voicing your doubt and then you squeak and then giggle as he turns his free hand palm up and you see a gentle glow emanating from it. It’s enough to light the way immediately ahead of you and makes you step more confidently.

“Certainly when it’s dark, little one.” There’s that tiny endearment again and it makes your heart swell a little. “Night blooming lilies are quite beautiful.” He leads you down a few more paths and then when you round the next corner you gasp in wonder because there they are - rows of bright, white lilies glowing in the moonlight. There’s a pond too, with yet more wide open flowers sitting atop the inky black surface as water trickles down a stone feature into the pool.

“I’ve never seen anything so pretty,” you whisper, utterly transfixed by the sight before you.

He lets go of your hand and you stiffen slightly as you feel him stroking his fingertips up your back. “I have,” he says softly. “And I’m standing with her at this very moment.”

You turn and look up at him, no longer feeling shy or like a lesser person. “Thank you.”

The statement seems too small but it’s all you can manage for now and you hope it’s enough. It must be, you think to yourself, because then he’s leaning down and brushing his lips against yours. You know and understand in that moment that everything is going to be alright.

END.

#the undertaker #undertaker #this character lives in my head rent free #wwe #wwf #fanfic #the undertaker x reader #undertaker x reader #ministry!taker #ministry undertaker #anon asks #TTT Tumblr Asks

[thedeadmansgirl]

A Chance to Start Over | Chapter 01

Pairing: Mark Calaway (The Undertaker) x Female OC (Mary)

Chapter Warnings: Minors DNI 18+ Only Smut.

Length: 859

Read on AO3 | Read on FFN | Next Chapter

Success comes in various ways and different levels, depending on where you are in life.

And if you ask Mark Calaway, the man known publicly as the Undertaker, what success is at this point in his life, it is watching his beautiful wife of nearly a year, Mary, coming into the kitchen from their backyard carrying in a basket full of fresh eggs on one hand and another full of vegetables on the other from their garden out back. 

Had it been ten or fifteen years earlier, he would easily say it’s his career achievements, probably his wealth, and the love of any woman (and sometimes, several women at the same time) who’d give him their generous time to pleasure him. Now all that mattered was this gorgeous woman in front of him. 

Mary smiled at her husband who’s sitting on a stool by the kitchen island, enjoying his morning coffee. She smirked at the look on his face and the growing tent in his dark gray sweatpants, the only clothing he has on him. ‘God, he’s beautiful.’ she thought to herself. 

“Good morning.” She greeted him saccharinely instead as she placed the baskets by the sink. The towering man stood up and walked over his wife to kiss her passionately.

“Have I told you I love you today?” He whispered, his hand already under her shirt, traveling slowly up to her breasts, squeezing one as he nipped lightly on her earlobe, causing her to squirm a bit under him and let out a soft moan. 

“As a matter of fact you did, twice before we left our bed this morning.” She replied, almost breathless as he began rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger. 

“Well, you might have forgotten darlin’. Let me remind you again.” He whispered and guided his wife to face the island counter, caressing her hips as she leant forward to rest her upper body on the marble top. He let out a gruff moan that made Mary bit her lip to suppress a smile, she knew what’s about to transpire and she’s almost antsy. He wrapped his arms around her waist and bent down to kiss the back of her neck, trailing down her spine. 

Her breath hitched when Mark hooked a finger on the waistband of her sleep shorts and swiftly pulled it down, his other hand frantically pulling down his sweatpants just enough to free his hard and throbbing cock, leaking with pre-cum. He reached around her waist to run a finger through her slit and felt her already wet center. He groaned again as he collected her wetness to drag it back up her nub, circling it with a gentle pressure that had her gasping and moaning in pleasure. 

“Mark.” She whimpered, “I need you inside me, please.” She begged and Mark let out a soft chuckle, kissing her temple as he did. 

“So impatient.” He whispered but pulled back anyway to pump his cock a few times before aligning it to her warm entrance dripping with arousal and slowly pushed his way in, whimpering as he did. Mary closed her eyes; her brows knitted as her husband stretched her deliciously, her mouth falling into a small ‘o’ and whimpered as she felt him bottom out to the hilt, hitting that sweet spot inside of her. 

Mark gripped her hips, sinking his fingers on her tanned skin a little too hard but Mary didn’t mind. Especially when he began to move in slow but hard thrusts, slowly picking up pace, and continued hitting that special place inside her that had her a whining mess in no time.

“Right there, right there!” She almost screamed. “Don’t stop, baby please.” 

“I love it when ya beg.” Mark responded with less spunk as he wanted to as he, too, was almost lost in the sensation of her cunt swallowing his thick and long cock as if it were made to fit and live in there. 

Mark gritted his teeth as he felt himself growing closer, letting out a slightly higher pitched moan than his usual baritone grunts. “I need ya to come for me, baby.” He told her, reaching back around her front to press gentle circles in her nub, helping her tip over to the edge. 

“Fuck…” Mary whined as her back arched and her cunt clamped down on Mark’s cock, causing the huge man to let out a loud grunt, almost a growl, “Jesus…” He whimpered, “Come on, baby.” He urged her as he continued his ministrations to her nub and not long after she was clamping down even harder as she came really hard screaming his name. 

It didn’t take Mark longer than a few more thrusts before he was burying himself deeper inside her, flooding her walls with thick spurts of his cum with a jolt. "Jesus Christ." He hisses, closing his eyes and resting his head on Mary's shoulder. “That’s a good way to start the week,” He grinned, cupping her face to turn her towards his, kissing her passionately. 

“I love you, woman.” He panted against her lips and she smiled, “I love you, too, cowboy.” 

Next Chapter

#wwf undertaker #wwf undertaker x reader #the undertaker #the undertaker imagine #the undertaker smut #wwe undertaker #american badass #the undertaker x female oc #undertaker imagines #undertaker fan fiction #The Undertaker imagines #The Undertaker Fan Fiction #the undertaker decimates rising wwe star in shock comeback #the undertaker and his pals #world wrestling federation

[andyisbleeding]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: World Wrestling Entertainment, World Wrestling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: The Undertaker (Professional Wrestling)/Reader Characters: The Undertaker (Professional Wrestling), Paul Bearer | Percy Pringle III Summary:

You had only been with the WWF for a few months when you finally run into the dead man one on one.

#wwf undertaker x reader #wwf undertaker #the undertaker #x reader #deadman #wwf #wwe #world wrestling federation

[wrestling0neshots]

Cocky - Undertaker

Interefering at the wrong time gets you in a whole lot of trouble. A whole of trouble which leads to quite the opportunity. Orignally posted on Archive Of Our Own --------------------------

You watch from the gorilla as the Undertaker continues to annihilate your partner, Raven. The match hasn't been going on for very long, and you don't think it will go on for much longer with the way Raven is looking, and so you decide that now is the time to go give him a hand.

Silently you creep out onto the main stage, catching sight of Undertaker recovering from having his head slammed into the ring post, dodging Ravens next attack and forcing Ravens head into the barricade. You wince, breaking into a jog and making your way towards the pair.

You manage to get to them once they are by the announcers table, Undertaker still dominating the match. "HEY!" You shout as Undertaker runs Raven into the ring post. Undertaker drops Raven and turns his attention you to.

"Get out of here" he demands. You shake your head, glancing at Raven who hasn't moved. "I said get out of here" his voice is a low growl and you consider your options.

Help Raven or help yourself. You decide it would be best if you were to help your partner rather than be the one that walks away, so you find your voice. "No" Undertaker takes a step towards you, and naturally you take one back.

"You better leave by yourself or else-" "Or else what, deadman? You going to hit a woman?" You ask. You know taunting him won't land you any place good but what other choice do you have? Raven is barely up on his feet, let alone prepared to attack.

"No, I don't hit women, and you're damn lucky I don't. Get out of here before I make you" You walk backwards, Undertaker watching your every move. You hold up your hands in surrender, Taker finally turning his attention back to Raven, who still doesn't know what he's doing.

You walk over to the announcers table, pulling the spare chair towards you, picking it up. You fold the chair, trying to be as quiet as possible as you sneak over to a preoccupied Undertaker.

You raise the chair high, ready to strike him in the back, when he turns around, anger immediately appearing in his eyes.

He snatches the chair from your hands, using it to crack Raven in the spine before throwing it to the ground. Undertaker once more turns his attention to you, and you now decide to go the opposite direction, walking backwards as fast as you can, determined to escape the grasp of the phenom if you can.

But you find he is faster than you, catching up with ease. You go to turn around and run but he already has a hold of you, your hair wrapped around his hand. He pulls you to him, causing you to wince from the pain searing through your skull.

"What in hell made you think going to hit me with a steel chair was a good idea?" Undertaker barks. You shrug, not effectively as you had wanted due to your body stiffening in fear, but he understood what you were trying to do. "You don't know. That ain't good enough. How about I give you one more chance, you can either go backstage and watch your dearest Raven get his ass handed to him, or I can finish him off and deal with you after" you stare blankly at him, not fond of either idea. You're here now, you've come this far.

You take in a deep breath, "You don't tell me what to do" a quick swing of your hand tells Undertaker all he needs to know. He pushes you up onto the apron and into the ring with such force you roll into the middle, the lights taking a moment to focus.

By the time you're back on your feet it's too late, Raven bleeding from his forehead and completely out of it. You silently roll out of the ring, heading towards him, a hand catching your arm. "And where are you going?" You don't turn to look at Taker, you're in enough trouble as it is.

You swallow your fear, "backstage." A low chuckle comes from the taller man. "Would you prefer I deal with you backstage? It would save you the humiliation, although I would have to make up for that." You look around at the WWE universe. "I don't care if you have to make up for it. Not in front of these people. Not in front of Raven."

He lets go of your arm, gesturing for you to lead the way. You look back at Raven who is still very much out cold.

Once backstage the cameras don't follow you, you half expected them to but no one comes. Undertaker leads you to his dressing room, pulling a chair from a stack at the side. He places the chair in the center of the room. "Sit."

You don't hesitate, taking a seat. "Now, I don't know what sort of fool you are running down to that ring for someone who is already defeated and no way to defend yourself. But I'm going to tell you right now not to pull that shit again."

You shrug. "I don't have to do what you tell me." Undertaker stands with his back to you, silent.

He seems to be mulling over his options, wondering what exactly to do with you. You know you shouldn't be giving him attitude, you know the mans reputation, but you're also not afraid to stand up for yourself. You went out there and attacked him, ain't no chance you're gonna stop running your mouth now.

"You've got a lot of nerve, I'll give you that much." He says, "a lot more than Raven is worth." "Don't you speak a word about Raven." You state.

"I'll say whatever I damn well please, you do. Tell me, Y/n, what does Raven do for you?" His eyes meet with your now, he towers over you under normal circumstances, and even more so now with you being seated.

You shrug, not knowing what answer to give him. Your time paired with Raven has been long, complicated. Through multiple companies, over numerous years.

"He's a good guy, good at what he does. He's got a way with words and he's a fighter." "That's not what I asked. Answer the damn question." Taker demands.

You chew on the inside of your lip. "He taught me to be the same." "He taught you to be reckless. Just like him. You've run down to the ring to defend him with no way of protecting yourself. You've run your mouth when you should have kept it shut. Now you're here all alone with The Undertaker, and I know you know who I am, and you are still running your mouth."

"So what if I am?" You ask, pushing his buttons even further. "You're cocky, stubborn and loyal to a fault." "Depends who you ask." You reply, crossing your arms.

He gives you a questioning look, wanting you to elaborate. And you do. "Let's just say the decision to work with Raven was my own. I needed someone who could teach me how to go further. I got that. And I'd do it again."

Now you have Undertaker's full attention. "You would leave Raven for a better opportunity?" He asks. "For lack of a better phrase, yes. I suppose I would. It's not like I'm contractually obligated to work with Raven."

You can see the idea come to his mind. You hadn't planned this, not at all. Usually you would see that Raven's opponents were taken care of when he couldn't handle his own. That hadn't happened this time.

In reference to his earlier statement yes, you do know who he is. The knowledge and power in his possession. You'd be a fool not to try.

"You want to learn, Y/n, I'll teach you. But it comes at a price." Of course it does. This is The Undertaker. "Obviously." You voice your thoughts.

He looks pissed for a second at your reaction, his expression returning neutral quickly. "I train you, you help me out-" "Deal." "I wasn't finished yet, Y/n. And you'll hear it all before you agree to it. As I was saying. I train you, you help me out. You'll help when I need help, no matter the situation. You'll tone down your attitude towards me and you'll also have the loyalty, contractually."

You rise to your feet, no expression on your face. "Deal." You hold out your hand.

He extends his own and the two of you shake on it. "There's no going back on it now, Y/n. You've made a bargain with the deadman and you might not be so happy that you did." He chuckles.

"I'm sure I'll be just fine, Taker. You've not got anything I can't handle." His look says he doubts your words, no surprise there. "Give it time. We'll see."

#undertaker #The Undertaker #wwe #wwf #wwe fanfiction #wwe oneshots #requests #raven #x reader #opportunities

[piratewithvigor]

Masterlist

Videos:

Tiktok I Made About Hawkeye In A Fit Of Despair

Tiktok I Made About My Assorted Wrestling Obsessions

Pictures Of The Undertaker As Random Sounds

Ooh It's Captain Jack Sparrow

TVC-15 Music Video V1

TVC-15 Music Video V2

Wrestling Videos Masterlist (Just AEW)

Wrestling Videos Masterlist (Everything But AEW)

Stories:

Music

Snake Boy - GNR, slice-of-life drabbles featuring Slash and his snakes

Love Break My Heart - GNR, Axl X Izzy, A half-life relationship is disintegrating at the seams. Neither of them is good for the other, but after 14 years together, they don’t know how to be with each other anymore. [Chapter 2], [Chapter 3], [Chapter 4]

The Big Five - GNR, Y/N X GNR, A newcomer to L.A., Y/N isn’t much for anonymous sexual encounters, but there are 5 exceptions

M*A*S*H

Out Of Sight, Out Of Our Minds - After a freak accident lighting a stove, Hawkeye suffered severe flash burns that have left him blinded. Most people recover within a week or so, but as the days drag on, BJ becomes more convinced that Hawkeye isn’t most people. [Chapter 2], [Chapter 3]

Wrestling

Ain't No Grave - Undertaker prepares to rise from the grave, but begins to wonder why

Dr. Isaac Yankem, D.D.S. - Reader encounters the most interesting classmate

Snaps - Kane questions his reality post-match

Forsaken - Undertaker wakes up in the hospital after the fire and meets a once-in-a-lifetime visitor

One Day - Undertaker always knew he would outlast his loved ones…

I Have To Bake A Cake? - Kane has to bake a cake

Kane Is Actually A Cold-Blooded Creature HCs

Eldritch Horrors Anonymous - Dr. Shelby’s led plenty of support groups before and helped plenty of people in them. But these people aren’t exactly people…

Stars - Kane's steadiest relationship through his life was always to the stars. [Chapter 2], [Chapter 3], [Chapter 4]

Romance Isn't Dead (Just Buried Alive) - When faced with one of the most frightening emotions of all time, Undertaker turns to Goldust for assistance

Exodus - 2009 Shane McMahon X Reader

Chest Cavity - Undertaker X Dr. Isaac Yankem, What 26 years of knowing someone inside and out does to a person…

Kitchen - Undertaker is given an option to change a part of his brother's past and potentially give him a brighter future

KNIGHTS - WWF Medieval AU, In the year 1184, King Vincent, Second Of His Name, has found himself nearing financial ruin. Ever since the death of his father, he dreamt of expanding the borders of his kingdom to span the continent and maybe into the lands beyond the seas. The further he expanded, however, the lower the reserves of the kingdom became. In an effort to revitalize the economy of Greenwich, the king devises a brilliant plan with the help of his council of lords. A plan for a tournament more beautiful and spectacular than any that had come before...

Lost - Kane X Daniel Bryan Kane loses his mask

Bubbles - Bret Hart X Shawn Michaels Shawn has a surprise for Bret

Fluff - Bret Hart X Shawn Michaels Bret faces his own fears of the pink and fluffy

Farm Fresh Produce - Bret Hart X Shawn Michaels Our boys get their happily ever after

Miscellaneous

Florist Gump - Forrest Gump Flowershop AU

How I Listen To Each Of My Favourite Bands (A Bullet Point Piece)

How To Listen To Prog Rock (A Bullet Point Piece)

#Writing #My Videos