If you request a character x reader they will always be GN unless the requester requests a trans reader. Aroace characters will always be in a qpr or platonic relationship.
Make sure to use the little heart emojis or just state what kind of relationship you are looking to be written. If you do not, I will just pick one.
Specify if it will be a oneshot/short story or a headcanon list and make sure to state what you would like it to be about or any plot points you would like in the story/list.
đPoly Relationships (must all be dating each other, can be a mix of QPR and RR)
Character x Reader (will always be GN) Specify 1st or 2nd person or I will pick/do a mix of both đ also reader's name will never be "mentioned" as that is my writing style
Character x Character (Will depend on if I think I can write for them)
Character (no ship) Headcanons
Fluff, Comfort, Angst
Happy endings and Sad endings
Gore (Will have TW)
Character Death (Will have TW)
Consensual C*nnibalism (Will have TW)
Comedy/Crack Fics (not very good at this) or non serious ships
Will NOT Write
Sm*t
Anything S*xual
Anything Explicit
K*nks
Incest
P*dophilla (or however it's spelled. gross AND illegal)
Yandere. I'm a fan of blood and violence, but this shit just makes me uncomfortable.
(More to be added)
Sorry if I don't do every request, I am very new at this.
NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.
I think it would be great and amazing if people actually tagged what gender their reader is in their fics so I don't have to find out halfway through. I have fem reader tags blocked for a reason đđđ tumblr, ao3, quotev, EVERYWHERE. TAG YOUR FICS đđđ
Note: I lost a ton of requests because I went through and deleted a ton of posts. I don't plan to do any more requests (I am super burnt out at the moment), but this was already written. I have a saiki x gn online reader headcanon list half written and may finish it at some point.
Anyways let's get started
As someone who is so desperate to be normal- he doesn't understand why you would want to make yourself look less normal
What Saiki does understand is that you enjoy it
To be fair he sort of changed the normal to prevent him from having to change his hair color
Maybe he is just annoyed by any judgmental thoughts he can hear when you are out in public together.
He likes that your music isn't mainstream, it lets him experience something new for once that is not a headache- or something that can be spoiled.
You have definitely dyed his hair black before, it took a lot of coffee jelly to do it (and slight compliance on his part due to interest in a more normal look- he hated it and his hair was back to bright pink the next day).
You fit right in with his friends for sure
Kaido may have mistaken you for a member of a dark reunion (he challenged you to a fight before Saiki had to get involved)
You go to Kusuo's school and decide you want to decorate your uniform? Well that isn't against school dress code (Supernatural Saiki related powers may or may not be involved)
When he told you about his powers you asked to be shape-shifted into a bat, a crow, or some other really cool animal
He said no
You convinced him one time and somehow managed to get yourself into some sort of mess ("good grief")
For Halloween one year you both switched color palettes
You put on a pink wig ("I could have just changed your hair for you." "But this is more fun!")
And he turned his black again
If you got sad that you weren't able to dye it this time he would have changed it back to let you dye it just this once
You had a lot of fun putting his outfit together from your wardrobe
"Why do you wear so many layers?"
The makeup was even more fun. He made the executive decision to wear his germanium ring so he wouldn't have to hear your constant thoughts of: "He looks so cute", "adorable", etc.
He did refuse to wear any sharp jewelry as he didn't want anything to accidentally put a hole in his gloves. That would not be fun.
All in all, you guys are just chilling
The most attractive thing he finds about you is the fact you respect his desire for peace and quiet
Don't tell him I told you this, but he likes talking to you. OH SHIT HE HEARD ME-
They are always up for a steaming cup of gossip tea.
Rosie links her arm with Alastor's when they walk around Cannibal Town
Deadpan side glances at each other every time someone says something stupid
"I wouldn't suggest that course of action, Darling,"
Rosie is always there to calm Alastor down from making uncalculated attacks or doing something 'unprofessional' (Alastor's words, not hers)
They go clothes shopping together
I JUST KNOW THEY ARE PUTTING ON FASHION SHOWS FOR EACH OTHER (while talking about the latest tea..)
They sew together. A piece they bought isn't perfect? Get out the sewing kit.
We know Alastor can cook, Rosie can bake (It's true because I said so: she likes to make 'finger-chip cookies' slices and dices those fingers into the dough)
They participate in a ton of random tabletop hobbies such as quilling
Unstoppable duo- if they gave up class and simple morals they hold.. Hell would be in for a loop.
Married for tax benefits (there are no tax benefits in Hell, it's more just to 'send a message' (it's for the bit))
Rosie is for sure a special guest on the radio show every once in a while (the only one who is seen again too..)
The residents of Hell hear Alastor laugh more on those shows than any other, genuine- not just sadistic- laughs
Alastor kisses the back of Rosie's hands as a greeting ("What a gentleman you are, Alastor.")
If one gets explosively angry at the other, they (the one subject to the other) either try to flatter them out being angry or smile with "I'm not dealing with your shit right now" eyes
They manage to calm down pretty quick, but may roll their eyes and dish out the silent treatment for a while
They share lipstick you cannot tell me otherwise
Karaoke every time they go out (whether it be actual karaoke at an establishment... or just them singing a song while painting the streets red with sinner blood)
hereâs my aro/ace playlist aka songs that remind me about being aro/ace or just have the vibe lol.
*havenât updated it in a long time so some songs may just be there on accident or i havenât listened to them yet or they just talk about something else than romance so*
Hoping to post a few works this weekend once i'm free! How are you guys liking my writing so far? My writing changes sometimes with the mood I am in/how motivated I am while writing (I try to only write for this when I feel motivated so I can give my best and enjoy it). Comments/feedback are always appreciated. If you notice a spelling mistake in a story/headcanon just message me so I can fix it. Thank you!!
SYNOPSIS: "ALASTOR HAS NEVER FELT LOVE BEFORE, BUT HE'S CONVINCED IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE WAY YOU MAKE HIM FEEL . . . " gender-neutral reader ! reader loves very strongly cos ur a sweetheart . . . WC. 3.1k
WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT AHEAD ! heavy implications of cannibalism / cannibalism used as symbolism, toxic love, thoughts of violence and murder, blood, biting, reader gets a few small cuts, brief mentions of stitches, alastor's obsessed with you in the worst kind of way, manipulation, semi-stalker alastor.
LOVE NOTES: YES I know he's aroace BUT he's got something very very wrong with him so this is my take on a psychopath interpreting something that is very much not love as 'love'. very heavily inspired by [this post here]; I gladly accepted the challenge <3
Love was meant to be all-consuming. It was meant to seep through your veins and rot your bones with the insatiable desire to be with what you love. At least, that's what you had been told. This very sentiment lies buried between the lines of every story you had ever read and is soaked within the lyrics of every love song.
There was something beautiful about love, and something even more soâsomething so incredibly humanâabout an insatiable kind of love. A love that craves every inch of you, inside and out. A kind of love that demands focus from every nerve of your body, that poisons every inhale you take, that infiltrates every thought that enters your mind. It's insatiable: a hunger that can never quite be quenched.
It starts in your fingers with the simple desire to touch them until it becomes a desperation to feel their skin underneath your fingernails. It starts as merely a kiss, a fleeting peck to the lips or the cheek, before escalating into the hysteria of wanting to feel their flesh between your teeth. The warmth of their body seeping through pesky layers of clothes before burning into your own is enough to drive the most sane to complete and utter madness. The child-like joy of feeling sunlight against your exposed skin quickly starts to pale in comparison when you feel their touch. Your heart quickens at the mere mention of their name and doesn't ease until you're close enough to engulf yourself in the color of their eyes.
Love was meant to be all-consuming. It was meant to infect your mind and body, seizing your heart with need of every kind, with a desperate, insatiable craving, and making it impossible to sleep until it stops beating all together.
At least, that's what you've been told.
And luckily for you, love just happened to be the one thing you and Alastor see eye-to-eye on.
Discussions of love with him were fleeting and sparseâit simply wasn't a topic that often breached his fancy. But now that you're willing to indulge with him, your words on the subject have captured his attention more frequently than he'd care to admit. Even as you sit with Angel, your feet resting mindlessly in his lap as he recounts his various escapades on love, it makes Alastor sick to his stomach. There was nothing that Angel could tell you about love; nothing about what it truly meant and within the people it could be found, Alastor thought. As if Angel knew anything about love. What he offered was not love, it was merely a cheap distraction. No, the love that Angel spoke of didn't demand his every waking moment, didn't command every syllable that drew from his tongue and it didn't force his body to move in ways that he had never once before been inclined to move. Alastor should know.
Ever since these discussions with you, the casual ones that slowly revealed even your most meager interests to him over time, he had felt himself starting to become more accustomed to this... love.
Is this why everyone seemed so obsessed with love on earth? This feeling of... insatiable desire, of carnal want, of the desperate need to be with the person you love at all times? Even the mere, sudden impulse to feel your hand in his own or to at least be the one to hold your attention when Angel had it allâwhich was becoming far more often now than beforeâleft Alastor feeling as if he were weak, defenseless even. Alastor had never known love, at least not in this way. Sure, he had experienced the love of a mother at some point in time, nearly a hundred years ago, but this he was sure was different. It had to be. Never had anything filled his thoughts as frequently and as obsessively as you did now. Nothing in his life nor in his death could even come close. Not even all the jazz clubs in the world nor all the whisky in all of Hell could come close. Nothing except perhaps for his craving for blood.
Human flesh was certainly not an ordinary craving. The sensation of tearing flesh from bone or slicing through it with surgical precision could not be easily relatable experience. But Alastor was certain than the euphoria such a feeling gave him would equate to pleasure on some sort of dark and twisted scale. And pleasure was derivative of love, correct? Why, of course it was! Why else would humans hunt for it, suffer for it, crave it, and die for it if love were anything other than pleasureful. Yet, this pleasure he imagined coming from such carnal, ruthless events he found frequently in you alone. Without the blood and without the carnage.
You were clean to love. Easy too. Loving you, seemed to come as naturally as one might find immediate affection for a blooming flower or a baby bird. Innocent, that's what you were. At least, in comparison to him. No one ever arrived in Hell without deserving to be there, but you were far from tainted when placed next to him.
Was what Alastor felt, this supposed feeling of love, even normal? He hadn't often heard people speak of the ways in wish they dreamt of leaving their mark on their other half the way he often imagined of doing so with you. They never made it known if they fantasized about sinking their teeth into their beloved's flesh and letting their all-consuming desire to savor take over. To feel their lover's hands on them as they slowly became one, indulging in the copper taste that painted their lips, a taste that Alastor knew all too well, but somehow felt would be differentâmuch sweeterâif it came from you.
Surely this wasn't normal, the way you infested his brain day and night like an infection he simply couldn't be rid of. The way you make his black heart race as if he were still alive enough to feel it beating. The way he thirsts for the feeling of his claws in your skin, painting you in beautiful hues of red as he fervently devours you whole.
This was nothing like the content of your discussions with Angel, those sweet conversations that were often propelled by humor or lengthy anecdotes that reminded Alastor just how much you loved. How you loved your books and your music and your friends. How much you adored your favorite color and the little details in your outfits and the ways in which different weather made you feel. How you'd smile so widely at seeing any one of your dear friends return to the hotel after a few measly hours away and how you'd embrace anyone who had brought you your favorite meal. To Alastor, you loved too many things, and you loved them so very deeply. It was odd to witness someone so perpetually surrounded by a feeling, a way of life, that he himself had never known. It took him months of wracking his own twisted, inner desires to come to the realization of why he too wished to reside somewhere on that list of yours.
But soon, that desire to simply be on that list took root and grew into something much, much more. Something far darker, something deeply carnal. Something far more corrupt. Soon, his desire to consume you became a reality that even he was slow to recognize. Even as a prideful man, his hubris barely allowed him to admit his feelings for you as one normally would. So he morphed them, tainted them and molded them into something he could and did understandâsomething he was more than familiar with. The simple desire to be drenched in you, the deep, saccharine red that flowed through your veins, became an obsession. A hobby. An infection.
Soon, he couldn't stand to be around you.
Everything you did taunted him, teased him and drove him to the edge of madness only to have him reeling back to sanity the moment you come closest to death. And the best part is that you simply seem to clueless to it all.
His appetite was insatiable and you mindlessly catered to him without a fault each and every time. It humored him as well, how you always seemed to have the worst of luck in these circumstances.
The first time it happened, you were resting on the couch in the lobby of the hotel, opting to remain open to the company of others if they so decided. That was when Alastor joined you, pulling a newspaper from inside his coat as he seats himself in the armchair across from you. Your gaze lingers on him for a moment, watching as his eyes scan the little lines of black ink, noticing how his monocle glimmers in the light of the fireplace before turning your own page. You hiss and the scent of ferric blood fills the air.
A paper cut? From turning a page in a book? How juvenile. But that didn't stop Alastor's mouth from watering. His fangs sink into his own bottom lip to run interfere with his instinct and his pupils narrow, morphing into dials. He forces himself to remain perfectly still, aside from his claws which dig deeper into the arms of the chair he resides in with each passing second.
"Are you alright, my dear? Those pesky paper cuts often cause more trouble than they're worth," he watches like a hawk as a single bead of red forms on the tender pad of your thumb.
"I'm okay. It's just a paper cut," you say, brushing off the situation entirely before bringing your thumb to your lips. You completely miss the way Alastor's tongue glides over his bottom lip for a brief second before he stands, the tails of his coat swaying behind him as he makes his way to you. Without a word, he grabs your wrist and lifts your hand to his face.
"You need to be more careful," is all he says before squeezing your thumb, watching with a sadistic sort of glee as you squirm at the feeling, and more blood pours from the surface. The words are most likely meant to be soothing, but he says them in such a way that makes you feel as if you're being scolded. It's not until there's enough blood to begin running down the length of your finger that he decides he's had enough, and with a single, swift movement, he runs the tip of his tongue along the cut before melting in a pool of shadows.
Yet unbeknownst to you, he only leaves for your sake. He leaves just in time for you to miss the way his eyes turn black as green stitches strain to contain his smile. Some might consider the way he basks in the lingering taste of your blood on his tongue to be a gruesome display of warped affection, but it's all he can do to keep himself from taking more. Or perhaps, from taking all.
The second time you unknowingly tempt death is during your weekly use of the hotel kitchen. You're chopping vegetables, helping Angel prepare some type of Italian dish he claimed was his specialty before Alastor joined you under the pretense of ensuring you both were 'using the kitchen properly.'
Of course he meant to do it on purpose, but he wasn't going to outright tell you he wanted you to cut your finger again. He wasn't going to simply ask you to do so, no. That would surely make him sound insane. But the simple fact that he was able to so expertly engross you in conversation not only fueled his pride by proving that he knew you so well, but left a magnificent opening for him to surprise you with information that would surely catch you off guard. Just as long as he got his timing right. Which, as a well-trained hunter, he was bound to.
You hiss again, releasing the handle of the knife and letting it fall to the floor with a clatter as you inspect your hand.
"What the hell, are you okay?" Angel gasps, shocked at the sudden amount of red that now glistened on the cutting board. You were never this careless.
"I don't know what's wrong with me lately," you huff, frustrated by the sting you've now felt for a second time this week.
"I'll... be right back," you say, taking your leave to find Vaggieâyou heard she was rather good with stitches in case this was particularly badâand perhaps a bandage too.
But yet again, you miss the way Alastor's smile grows wide at the mere scent of your blood. The fleeting wince of pain that etches across your pretty features, even if only for a moment, is enough to fuel his imagination for the next few days alone. The agitation that fills your eyes as you willingly give in to a distraction that he has laid out for you is so beautifully tasteful. Knowing now, with proof, that he can so easily influence you has him wondering just how far he can push you with this newfound, ravenous tendency of his. Just how sadistic will you let him become? Just how much can you take until you're begging him to rip you apart?
You've sent him deep into a delirium that he has long since forgone any notion of breaking free from. You're all he can crave now. All that he sees, whether his eyes are opened or closed. All he can focus on with each desperate inhale. All he can search for in a sea of wayward souls, you're all that he desires. And nothing will ever be enough.
But luckily, Alastor is a patient man. At least, when it comes to what he truly wants most. As a hunter, as a predator, he has learned how to blend in with his surroundings well. He has mastered the art of infiltrating your defenses and taking down each and every wall from the inside. Alastor is a renaissance man of all things deceptive and immoral. If he must upturn all that he has become thus far to ensure you grow to trust him and only him, unfaltering and unwavering, over time then so be it.
To call him 'greedy' now would be the greatest of understatements. He has become abhorrent, wicked, demented when it comes to you. With each passing day, the yearning to becoming permanently intertwined with you in some type of way becomes more than he can bare. It has him teetering on the edge of sanity and pure madness, and you still remain so blissfully unaware.
But there is most certainly a well-tailored, methodical method to his madness. One that he has trained well and thoroughly during his decades of wreaking havoc. After all, one must be able to maintain their composure when watching the life drain from another being's eyes. Not only is Alastor able to do that, but he revels in the power such a feeling gifts him. So it is no surprise that after months of wearing you down, day in and day out, night after night, that you slowly begin to become obsessed with him as well.
He's a clever man, able to leave you reminders of himself in the most random and regular places so that the idea of him seems to come to you naturally despite this manhandled deception. It begins with the mere idea of Alastor floating in and out of your mind from time to time, seemingly on a whim.
Perhaps he's left a radio on somewhere he knows you'll end up or he's placed a book he mentioned to you somewhere he knows it'll catch your eye. He'll hum catchy tunes as he strolls the halls, lingering for just a moment longer by your door to ensure that you hear it tooâhe knows you'll ask him about the name of the tune later on.
After that, he sets in quick.
You begin to see him in every shade of red that bleeds across Hell and you find yourself beginning to glance at every shadow you find, hoping he just might reside within one. All until he soon becomes your new obsession as well. Suddenly, you're asking the others if they've seen him and where he might be, where he's headed and if he has any plans for the day. He watches, savoring each time you hang on a syllable. He searches, proudly soaking up the way your eyes light up when they finally land on him.
He tricks you, deceives you into believing what you truly share is love. But surely it much be?
He plays you, ensuring that you're just as stuck on him as he is on you, hoping that you'll simply fall apart if he leaves your side. He may feel as if he's going insane when you're not around, but he will never be satisfied until you need him like a drug in your veins.
And finally, that time comes: the third time you share your blood with him. But this time, it's entirely your idea. Isn't it? Wasn't it? Of course it was. How could it not be? He would never force you into this. And you're sure of it. Because he loves you too much to ever hurt you.
He loves you too much to ever hurt you.
Those very words run on repeat like a broken record though your brain as his razor-sharp teeth sink into your shoulder. Your head begins to spin at the pain, or perhaps it's the loss of blood, but you're able to focus just enough to recite those words over and over again like a prayer. A prayer that...slowly begins to... melt...away.... before it turns into something different. His name.
Alastor. Alastor. Alastor. Alastor.
Perhaps you were simply weak. Surely this pain means nothing if it's for love. Because the pain we feel for love is ultimately the greatest sacrifice of all. If there's anything being in Hell has taught you, it was that. Certainly not Alastor's sick little games that he's tricked you into thinking were of your own volition.
Because there was nothing sick and twisted about your love, simply because it was love. But the promise of love alone was enough for you.
Oh, if only the same could be said about Alastor.
There may very well come a day in which he will finally revel in the entirety of your essence, of your blood and of your flesh as a whole. But for now, tasting your blood like this, soaking in the warmth of your body under his sharped claws, feeling you tremble like helpless pray beneath him, seeing you willingly let yourself become so vulnerable for him like this, will do.
@XPHNTMHVX 2024 â feedback and interactions are eternally appreciated
Queer-platonic Relationship (do NOT read as romantic)
Fluffy n cute
Nothing is meant to sound or be s*xual (I am aroace and some stuff I say comes off that when I don't mean for it too)
Considering making a part 3
TW: Mention of cannibalism
PART 2
Alastor cooks for you
He listens to the radio while he does (I mean he is the radio demon-)
Has offered to let you try venison (raw) and demon (also raw)
You both give each other song recommendations (I like to think he enjoys most genres of music)
Dancing in the evenings as sunset peeks through the windows
He taught you a lot of dances (If you know how to dance, you taught him some as well)
Will sing to the songs he knows while you dance together
If you ask he might sing you to sleep
Has asked before if he could take a bite of your flesh (Again, he is a cannibal. But he respects you)
You take walks together
You try to find decent cafĂšs or hole-in-the-wall restaurants to go to, this is usually difficult and most of the time you end up taking him to somewhere in cannibal town
He loves when you discuss music with him
You bash on Susan together
Alastor hates when you mention the âbox faced manâ that âseems to have a homoerotic crush on himâ (your words, not his)
He gets all quiet and wonât look you in the eye when he is mad
He tries to distance himself and you take that as a sign to give him space to cool down
If he is just annoyed he will roll his eyes
But for you though, he doesn't seem to take the hint when you get annoyed or mad
This may cause you to give him the silent treatment (He understands at that point)
Itâs a little unhealthy
Youâll learn to communicate better (he just might be a little.. difficult at times)
Like a true gentleman he will give your hand a kiss as a greeting
You both give each other forehead kisses
I like to think that he will just hold your hands randomly and play with your fingers
Itâs cute
If you make him flustered he will lay his ears against his head
If you want to and play your cards right, he might let you cuddle together
