:p

[briarfaerie]

ilayce ㅤꨄ︎ twenty .ᐟ she + her .ᐟ mdni .ᐟ multi fandom .ᐟ i like to write little fanfics in my notes app and share with the rest of the class :3

recents ⁀➴ naoya never lets you finish [18+] + soft moments with leona

personal fav ⁀➴ choso always remembers the little things

top liked ⁀➴ toji likes it when you’re angry [18+]

m.list . tags

©briarfaerie - no reposting, altering, or feeding my work into ai bro pls i beg

[briarfaerie]

i lost all my progress on twst because my phone decided it wanted to self destruct🥲 r.i.p. to all my cards.

[yotume]

Thanks for the request.

[briarfaerie]

👅

[briarfaerie]

little malleus :3

[anhniedraw]

I was so happy to see sebek in the lineup ngl, sebek in tech wear,,,

[briarfaerie]

sebek is such a cutie patootie

[c-dra]

my... what big teeth you have 🐺

[briarfaerie]

i don’t even go here but i was kinda tempted to play just for him. only to find out they removed him. oh well. he was very cute.

[briarfaerie]

it’s like the game can sense my desperation through the screen when doing a card pull for my favs. anyways 500 gems and 3 keys later. no sebek. oh okay.

[briarfaerie]

twinning with choso ^_^

[rpf3il]

[briarfaerie]

LOOK LOOK

OMG YAYY :D had to run to twitter to check updates hehehe.

also the diasomnia boys are so adorable:3

[briarfaerie]

lilia looks like he would enjoy playfully biting his loved ones

[lmbibitor]

“can mutuals dm you?” my mutuals can fire me from a cannon through a brick wall, looney tunes style. as long as we’re all having fun

[f-tality0]

Megumi

[daflex]

── Nanami likes this polaroid of you ᢉ𐭩

CW: nsfw Art: @/hunnismokah

The wooden door of the hotel room clicked shut, sealing out the muted hum of the city outside. Nanami let out a long, slow sigh, the sound scraping against the quiet air as he set his briefcase down by the desk. He reached up, loosening the knot of his tie with a sharp tug before pulling it over his head and tossing it onto the arm of the single chair.

Before he could even take off his suit jacket, his phone vibrated in his palm. The caller ID brought a sudden, subtle shift to the tight line of Nanami's jaw. He slid the screen open, pressing the phone to his ear as he leaned back against the desk. "Hey, love," he murmured. His voice was lower than usual, roughened by hours of corporate small talk, but laced with a quiet, easy warmth reserved only for you.

"Hey," your voice came through the speaker, instantly cutting through the lingering tension in Nanami's shoulders. "How was your day today?"

"It wasn't too bad," Nanami replied, his eyes drifting down to his leather shoes as he kicked them off. "Still exhausting, though. I just made it back to the hotel. Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"Mhm, had some takeaway," you said. There was a brief pause on the line, the kind of quiet that carried the weight of the distance between you. "I miss you."

The words hit him right in the chest, a sharp pang of longing making Nanami close his eyes. "I miss you, too," he said softly, meaning every syllable. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, pushing the strands back. "Alright... I'm going to have a shower."

"Okay," you hummed, a yawn clipping the edge of your words. "Call me back when you're done. I love you."

"I love you. Speak soon."

Nanami waited for the line to go dead before lowering the phone, the sudden silence of the room feeling twice as heavy now. He stepped over to the bed, reaching out to click on the bedside lamp. The small knob turned, instantly bathing the crisp white sheets in a warm, low glow.

Standing in the newly lit space, Nanami finally shed his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the chair. Reaching into the inside breast pocket of the jacket—the secure spot where he always kept his most important items—his calloused fingers brushed against the familiar, stiff edge of a photo.

He pulled it out, intending to just set it on the nightstand before his shower. But as he unbuttoned his shirt and stripped down to his dark blue boxers, leaving his tailored clothes in a rare, disorganized pile, Nanami’s gaze locked onto the small square of film.

In the dim, sterile glare of the lamp he had just switched on, the polaroid felt like a visual hallucination. The lighting in the photo was golden and overexposed, radiating a warmth that this room desperately lacked. There you were, caught mid-laugh on that beach in Malaysia from your last trip together. The ocean breeze was catching the hem of your white sundress, a single strap slipping carelessly off your shoulder. You looked bright, carefree, and entirely alive in the heat of the coast.

The shower was forgotten.

Nanami moved away from the chair, the weight of his exhaustion swallowed by a throbbing, pulsing ache. He sank onto the edge of the mattress and shifted his large frame back against the pillows. As he settled, his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose—blurring the rest of the room and leaving nothing but you in sharp focus.

Squinting through the shadows, his eyes traced the deep, low dip of the white sundress in the polaroid—the way it beautifully revealed your cleavage made his throat go completely dry.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away. His breathing hitched, a sudden, punishing ache tightening in his groin as his gaze lingered on your cleavage. Your skin still gleamed in the photograph from where he had slowly rubbed sunscreen over your body, his palms smoothing the lotion down the slope of your breasts until you were glistening in the sun—deliberately slipping his thumbs under the fabric of your dress to tease your nipples until they were hard under his touch.

The dark blue fabric of his boxers was already beginning to strain, his length thickening painfully against the cotton from the sheer force of the visual. Hearing your voice just moments ago had been no comfort, but seeing you like this now, with his skin still burning from the memory and the distance between you feeling like an ocean, it was an agonizing temptation.

His mind instantly raced back to that night in Malaysia. He remembered taking you back into the villa, his fingers catching on the fabric of your sundress to slide the straps down your arms. Burying his face in the crook of your neck—his tongue licking a wet trail up your throat, sucking greedily at your skin until you whimpered beneath him. His broad, calloused palms clamped around your breasts, kneading the soft flesh.

Nanami could still feel the exact sensation of sliding his thick, leaking cock between them, using the tight, sweltering cleavage of your chest to ruthlessly pump his length—watching your tits hug his slick shaft while he rasped how badly he wanted to stretch you wide open. The memory was so loud, so violently clear, that his restraint completely dissolved.

Low and frustrated, he groaned under his breath, finally reaching down to cup the heavy bulge straining against his boxers. His hand moved downward past that golden line of hair—the faint blonde happy trail disappearing beneath the dark blue cotton—his gaze locked entirely on the curve of your waist in the photo.

A ragged, breathless sound escaped his throat as he grazed his thumb over his throbbing tip through the fabric—making his stomach muscles flex tightly as the first slick beads of pre began to dampen the material. Unable to handle the restriction for another second, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and finally released his aching cock.

As the veiny, heavy weight sprang free, Nanami's calloused hand wrapped around it desperately—fisting the pre-cum up and down his hard length, his thumb deliberately smearing the wetness over the sensitive head to begin a slow, torturous stroke. Nanami was a man who prided himself on absolute control, but right now, every ounce of usual discipline was utterly gone, burned away by the raw ache of missing you.

He dragged his palm down to the very base of his shaft, knuckles brushing against his thighs before wrapping tightly to pull all the way back up to that leaking head. The slick pre coated his skin, creating a wet, sliding friction that had him closing his eyes just to focus on the sensation.

His brow furrowed deeply, sweat beginning to bead along his hairline and dampen his blonde strands. He kept his eyes wide—refusing to blink, his gaze entirely captivated by your carefree smile, the thin fabric of the sundress hugging your tits, and your warm, shiny skin glowing in the polaroid.

In the sudden heat of illusion, the sterile white noise of the hotel AC unit transformed into the distant crash of ocean waves. He wasn’t in this lonely room anymore. He was back in that villa, pinning you down into the mattress, pressing his lips to the sensitive column of your throat and breathing in the intoxicating scent of salt air and perfume, burying himself balls deep inside you.

Nanami’s hips twitched against the sheets as a large hand clamped around his length, pumping his fist up and down his shaft. Eyes shuttered tight, the memory consumed him entirely—imagining the slick drag of his cock against your wet, parted lips, the crushing friction of being squeezed tight between your tits, and the maddening sensation of driving deep inside your cunt. The urge to hammer into you over and over until you were stretched wide, stuffed completely full of hot seed, almost made him cum right there.

"Ah... fuck," he breathed out. The wire rimmed glasses slid further down his nose, utterly forgotten as his grip tightened. A faster, desperate pace took over, driven by the pleasure coiling tight and demanding inside his lower belly. Here was a man completely stripped of his carefully constructed rules—entirely at the mercy of a single polaroid of you.

His chest heaved, the stark white hotel sheets bunching beneath his massive frame as the rhythm fractured. Keeping a slow pace was no longer an option. Nanami’s knuckles went white, his rough hand fisting his veiny, engorged shaft with a punishing, frantic speed.

The sound of wet squelches filled the quiet room, his jaw locking as his thumb smeared slick over the rigid edge of his head. He brought the polaroid closer to his face, vision blurring with sweat as his eyes traced the line of your collarbone, the curve of your waist, and the soft smile he missed so dearly.

“So beautiful... ah,” he choked out, his voice dropping roughly into a low, rumbling groan. “You're so fucking beautiful, sweetheart...'"

The praise was a desperate murmur, breathed directly into the empty air of the hotel room—as if you were right there beneath him to hear it. His hips jerked upward, mimicking the exact rhythm of driving into your cunt. His thumb swept over his leaking pink tip sending a jolt straight to his groin. The coiled tension in his lower belly tightened into a hard, inescapable knot—his balls tightening. He was right on the edge, completely consumed by the ghost of your touch. 

Nanami choked out your name—a ragged, breathless prayer against the quiet room as he finally came. He ruined his hand as the first hot bursts of cum shot straight past his fingers, splashing against his lower stomach before the rest of the thick, heavy load spilled over his knuckles and flooded the blonde patch of hair at his groin.

“F-fuck, I miss you so much,” he groaned, his voice completely undone. Desperate fingers refused to stop, milking his length dry, forcing the oversensitive shaft through those last few strokes while thick, hot cream continued to drip down his twitching cock and palm.

He stayed frozen like that for a few seconds, his chest heaving, his fingers trembling where they still gripped his settling length. The lingering echo of the Malaysian surf dissolved back into the sterile, humming silence of the hotel room.

Slowly, the drugged fog of pleasure began to recede, leaving behind an aching exhaustion. Nanami let out a long, unsteady breath that trembled past his lips. He let his head sink back into the pillows, his glasses sitting crookedly on his nose. With slow movement, he used his clean hand to lift the polaroid back up to his face.

In the dim, warm light of the bedside lamp, you were still there—smiling, carefree, and beautifully out of reach. He stroked a thumb over the glossy surface of the photo—as if he were truly touching you—before setting it gently on the nightstand.

He forced his heavy limbs to move, sitting up on the edge of the bed to clean himself up. The cold reality of the business trip settled back over his shoulders like a lead weight, but as he looked back at the small square of film under the lamp, the lingering warmth in his chest reminded him exactly what he was working so hard to return to.

Nanami reached to grab a few tissues from the nightstand, his fingers still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of the release. But just as his hand brushed the box, his phone buzzed loudly right beside it. He paused, a drop of sweat rolled down his jaw as he looked down at the bright screen.

A message from you popped up on the display:

“finished with your shower? :)”

A/N: guys that was a polaroid of me btw

[insaneption]

little redraws of one of the frames

[yorikae]

⸝⸝ the loneliest day of the year. ⠀ ⠀ ⁀➴ kageyama's birthday

kageyama didn’t ask for much. especially on his birthday.

it was in december, december 22nd to exact and he knew it was around christmas time everyone would be busy.

he should be busy.

but of course he wasn’t.

he had nothing, no one or anything to celebrate with.

well he had his grandfather and his sister, when she wasn’t busy. and when the boys found out about his birthday and forced some “cute pictures”, where he was more irritated than anything. but the gesture was nice and the thought was there.

but he hasn’t felt that intimacy, that warmth of having someone want to show up for you.

not just because they knew him, or he was their family member or close teammate and they feel like you should be celebrating.

so when he finally landed in front of his home from another quiet trek home he was a little surprised to see his gate ajar just a smidge from where it’s usually closed shut. maybe the mailman?

and landing at his door, seeing the lightly snow covered footsteps from maybe an hour ago as he shuffled his way inside.

nothing unusual, quiet, homely and dark.

he toed off his shoes and walked deeper into the tres hold and pulled at his scarf just stopping before the curve of the way, a small smile pulling at his face as he stepped further.

“HAPPYYYY BIRTHDAY!”

you jumped in front of him, cupcakes in a cute cake stand the few in the middle with candles that were slightly blown out and melting.

he took the time to look over your face and the frosting smeared on your cheek and the slightly crooked smile you adorned as you vibrated in nervous energy.

“oh noooo” you watched one of the twelve fall on the ground before pouting at the tall man, “sorry baby. but here blow it out before the melt in the frosting!”

“tobio hurry! i spent too long whipping it for it for the wax to ruin it!”

he watched you stretch on your toes, arms up further just as the candle light dance on his face.

he closed his eyes for a second, pulling his scarf down further and his other hand wrapped around your waist.

seconds later, the lights were out and he looked to see your bright face smiling back at him.

“here try one! it’s—wait why aren’t you surprised?”

he watched you for second, he couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in his chest as he watched your pout deepen, “well the gate was open..”

“what?”

“footsteps on the snow..”

“and i saw your reflection over there..”

“what?” you whipped around, to the large scale window past the doorway, “you could not have me from there tobi—”

you cut yourself off with a gasp as he swiped frosting on your nose and licking the rest off his finger, “mmm you used the milk i like?”

“tobio!”

maybe his birthday wasn’t so lonely after all.

yorikae

[briarfaerie]

1 keychain away from having all of diasomnia but the store i go to is consistently sold out of Malleus💔