fllayvor

[fllayvor]

student!reader getting a PhD in religious studies, specifically studying demonology, who accidentally summons demon!sukuna while researching—unfortunately, you don't think you actually summoned anything, and end up dating him for about a year before you figure it out.

[fllayvor]

using this account to slowly get the courage to make full fledged oneshots/fanfics like I did when I was 15…

[fllayvor]

best friend Tomura who demands you stay in his bed, by his side, for a little while longer after you both unceremoniously fall asleep together after a long night of gaming,,, his voice firm yet gentle…

legs interlocked, his hands wrapped around your abdomen as he lays his head against the nape of your neck, burying his face and resisting the urge to press his chapped lips up against your skin,,,

even though this event is an accident, he relishes in having you so close. he doesn’t need to be your lover, it’s superfluous. no matter your status, you’ll always be the most important to him. platonic or otherwise.

[fllayvor]

hate me

dabi x reader

notes: small drabble. you and dabi are exes and you have an unspecified strength quirk

tw. Implied Yandere dabi, reader punches dabi

“I hate you.” It comes out easy. After all, Dabi is an expert in pushing your buttons to the very brink.

Like every other day, he’s come to annoy you, to pester you, to make you sorry for ever even daring to break up with him and demand your own personal space.

“Oh?” Amusement colours his face, but you can recognise the brief flicker of hurt that flashes by in his eyes, “Show me just how much you really hate me.”

He’s goading you. Encouraging the way your fists clench and how you clamp your teeth together tight in your mouth.

You’ve had enough of his antics. You’re sick of him scaring away all your friends with his blue flames and then threatening you to kidnap you right after with too sensual of a whisper.

With that in mind, it’s not a second or two later before your fist hits him square in the nose, your quirk amplifying the impact and painting the air with a scatter of red droplets.

And when Dabi staggers back, his hand raises to hover over the blood that begins to ooze down his chin, regret beginning to bloom across your countenance in turn.

A silence hangs between the both of you before a chuckle, one that escalates to a full blown laugh, spirals out of Dabi’s throat, the noise sounding cracked and unhinged.

“That’s it!”

His arms outstretch, a large grin beaming on his face, his words bordering on praise, “Show me more,” he growls, reclaiming his space close to you, excitement bubbling in those electric blue eyes of his.

“I…” Though still taut, your fists drop to your sides, your nails digging crescent shaped indents into your palms. Your head falls forward, unable to face him with your ember now extinguished.

Dabi’s eyes narrow, his smile growing more sharp. “What?” He asks, scoffing like he’s actually disappointed to see you relent.

Then his lips shift into a smirk as he wipes away the red hue that stains his face, his free hand taking the opportunity to tilt your chin up so he can look you dead in the eye.

“You can’t even hate me properly, can you?” And that smug tone is enough to boil up a reminder as to why exactly you went down the route of violence.

[fllayvor]

I might be wrong but dabi gives me the vibe of an ex boyfriend who, after you break up, walks in to your uni lectures and sits right next to you. u have to be quiet and just sit and stew while he casually invades ur space !!

[fllayvor]

kind

scaramouche x reader

minors dni.

small drabble of nsfw scaramouche x reader inspired a scene in the manga 'Chuuken Bodyguard ga Nisemono Reijou no Uso to Karada wo Abaku made.'

notes: NSFW. non gendered reader & genitalia. bottom reader. scaramouche has a dick.

“This is absurd. My patience is waning thin, my dear,” Scaramouche croons out the pet name with a sickly, sweet smile that’s devoid of any real kind of mirth. He only saves ‘my dear’ for false pleasantries.

Right now he’s hovering above you, his hands on either side of your head, a prominent frustration knitting his brows together as the tufts of his dark hair catch along the fractals of light. He’s beautiful in every sense of the word, a piece of art given the breath of life. Even naked he’s a sight to behold.

“J-Just… just give me a few more minutes…” You respond in between a few heavy inhales, your stomach sitting uncomfortably with the foreign intrusion between your thighs.

“It’s been an hour. You’ve been saying this for over an hour.” He doesn’t hold back on the punches, reiterating the duration in that snarky clipped tone he’s renowned for and it’s enough to have your muscles momentarily wince.

Then, the man above you stills in reaction to your body’s involuntary flinch, it’s minute but noticeable enough for you to discern. The bitterness on his tongue is kept at bay by gritting teeth and the clenching of your legs.

It was far from intentional on your end, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just a little bit happy to have shut him up for a moment.

“My dear,”A deep, unidentifiable tinge radiates from the back of Scaramouche’s throat and you have half the mind to be concerned when he lowers his head down to where your collarbone juts out to meet your shoulder.

“I’m trying,” You feel the words spoken against your skin before you hear them. It’s a sincere plea from his end, and you know if you flat out refused, he’d genuinely continue to wait it out longer. He’d wait an eternity until you were ready, even if he had to edge himself throughout it.

He really is trying. 

And it’s only slight, but his arms are shaking in the effort to hold himself back. You can feel his arousal twitch in the drawn out anticipation of it all.

There’s a warm huff of air that hits your chin as he cants his face upwards, a delicate shade of pink smoothing over his cheeks, “So can you be so kind as to hurry it up a bit?”

It’s all he can do to resist rolling his hips back and forth, to ram you into the headboard and finally experience unraveling you in full. His fists are digging the bedsheets into his palms, as though it’s assisting in steeling himself amidst the prolonged pause.

The sixth fatui harbinger, Scaramouche— your boyfriend— was so absurdly attentive to your comfort, to what you could and could not handle.

Especially when It’s your first time, and you suspect it’s his as well.

He was kind in an unconventional sense. An apt example is just as he says, waiting over an hour just so you could acclimate to the sensation of him breaching past your walls.

Gently, you raise your palms up to his face, a hand on each side guiding your thumbs over the light blush adorning his skin and whisper, “I’m… I’m okay now.”

At first glance you could guess the reverence in his eyes might’ve just been a reflection of your own, but it’s anything but.

The softness that surfaces in those blue hues of his is more than enough confirmation.

Shuddering out a breath, it looks like he’s assessing if you truly mean what you speak or if you merely seek to placate.

He must’ve found a genuineness in your words, because he doesn’t chastise you for not knowing your own limits. No, he draws himself out of you at an agonisingly slow pace, as if to generously repay your hour long stalling.

“Just focus on me. I’ll take the lead, so don’t you dare think about anyone else tonight.”

Steadily, he pushes his dick back in, a smile unable to stop itself from forming along his lips.

And it’s a smug smile you can’t help but begrudgingly adore.