#the matching blue

[sturnioloho]

just screamed at this hi

[catmask]

okay i think i am learning.... something

[pink-nubes]

Sephi

[potato-lord-but-not]

XVII The Star

we didn’t get it right but, love, we did our best

[artaintfart]

Made a cover for my Ashfur playlist and HEHEHHEHEE. SO COOL.

[farfallasims]

Women in Finance Lookbook 💼

01. Glasses | Dress | Stockings | Boots

02. Chain Necklace | Vest | Pants | Heels

03. Top | Pants | Heels

04. Top | Skirt | Heels

Thank you to the CC Creators! @valentinamunizccs @astya96cc @greenllamas @serenity-cc @magic-bot & others!

[nablastria]

「Mother, help me, there's a head attached to my neck and I'm *in* it.」

[yumcorez]

[sugurugetos]

JUJUTSU KAISEN — Hidden Inventory Arc

[uncharted-constellations]

Back to our originally scheduled programming, Minish Cap!

Edit: Redid Zelda because she was bothering me

[allcolorbut-theblack]

my last two braincells:

[choccy-milky]

✨ pokémon AU! 🔴✨ clora is mainly fairy & psychic (bc shes sweet but also smart) whereas seb trends towards fire/dark (even tho i only ended up giving him 1 dark pokemon...shhh) i originally gave him a houndour, bc dark + guard dog was such a perfect combo for him, but arcanine ALSO suits him and is way cuter so i had to go with that 🥹 and i had to fit in a raven and a snake pokemon somewhere bc...cmon🥰 BAHAHA

TYSM to the anon who inspired this!! it was so much fun

[worldofreds]

[kirbyfigure]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🪼🫧🐚𓇼*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @hibicu

[mangostarjam]

guard dog — blue lock, nagi seishiro x gn!reader, "baby" as a pet name, some smut i guess, creampie, established relationship, pro footballer!nagi, 1.5k words

Everyone thinks Nagi Seishiro is lazy.

It's a valid assumption. The professional football player is easy fodder for sports talk show hosts who love to criticize Seishiro for yawning hugely during press conferences and visibly playing games on his phone as his publicist tries to talk some sense into him. Seishiro hardly ever shows up for the charity galas, he has to be bribed to attend celebration parties, and his biggest brand deal is for a memory foam pillow company (which he only accepted because it meant he could nap on set).

To the world, he's a football genius blessed with the talent and skill to coast by and be lazy. Sure, Seishiro works out and goes to practice and plays hard when it counts, but if he's not in football mode, it's a pretty safe bet that he's either asleep or playing video games.

But you know better.

You know the world thinks Nagi Seishiro is lazy, but what they don't see — what they conveniently gloss over and ignore because it doesn't fit their narrative — is that Nagi Seishiro is an egoist.

And he gets what he wants.

So you aren't that surprised to find yourself squirming beneath his long, toned body — your heels digging into the strong muscles of his back, hands tugging harshly at his sweat dampened hair, back bowed as he coaxes another orgasm out of you as you sob his name.

"Mmph, fuck—" Seishiro groans low by your ear, hips stuttering as his cock throbs hard inside you. He manages two more rough thrusts before he's pressing his face into your hair, chest heaving as everything releases in a rush. "Feels so good, baby…"

You blink tears out of your eyes. The couch creaks as your boyfriend squishes you into the cushions, all dense toned muscle and long limbs and warm, heated skin. "Don't fall asleep," you pinch his side in warning but he doesn't even flinch. Your voice is raspy with overuse. "Seriously, Seishiro-kun!"

"But you're comfy…"

"I was in the middle of making dinner, y'know," you scold, but your tone is undeniably fond. "Our food's gonna be cold if you don't get up."

Seishiro grumbles, but ultimately acquiesces and raises his head. Dark white strands are plastered to his forehead. "Eating's such a drag," he sighs and presses a kiss to your cheek. The tip of your nose. Your other cheek. "Your cooking's yummy, though."

He finally lifts himself up and you wince as his softening cock pulls free. Wetness drips along your inner thighs. "Uh oh."

"Ah, wait," he says, reaching for a tissue on the nearby kotatsu. Seishiro's touch is firm as he helps clean you up. It's a simple matter for him to yank his sweatpants and boxers back up his thick thighs, but you end up wobbling to the bedroom to change into something less… sweaty.

Seishiro is still shirtless when you come back out wearing one of his hoodies, soft and worn, cuffs frayed with age. He opens his arms up wordlessly but you stay just out of reach, pressing a kiss to his knuckles instead. "Baby?"

"Dinner," you remind him. Seishiro blinks his big gray eyes up at you but you spin around before he can start pouting. "C'mon, it won't take that long!"

Your boyfriend sighs but follows you into the kitchen a few moments later. He peeks over your shoulder at the stove, radiating warmth as you lean back into him to offer a taste of the curry. "Yum," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head afterward. "You're the best, y'know that?"

"You already got in my pants today, you insatiable monster," you tease, giggling when he huffs into your hair. "So what happened at practice today that got you all amped up?"

Seishiro releases you to scratch absently at his ear. "Ah, that? Nothin'."

"Don't make me text Isagi-kun."

Your boyfriend pouts and goes to set the table, scooping rice somewhat haphazardly but still managing to get everything ready by the time you bring the curry over to serve. "The guys were just talkin' about their partners," Seishiro says. "And it made me miss you."

You pause with your spoon halfway to your mouth. "So you had to fuck me on the couch two minutes after getting home?"

Seishiro's cheeks flush pink and pretty as he sticks his spoon in his mouth. Your gaze skips down to the shift of his bicep and shoulder as he leans his elbow on the table. Heat flickers up your spine at the sight — no matter how much Seishiro acts like a human sloth, there's no denying he's a professional athlete.

"You're very cute."

"Oh." You manage not to drop your spoonful of rice and curry. He's always so… blunt. Not exactly straightforward, but you know better than to underestimate those sleepy gray eyes. "Thanks, baby."

You feel your cheeks warm as he tucks into his meal, asking about your day between bites. This is your favorite version of Nagi Seishiro — the steady, selectively selfish boyfriend who hangs onto your every word and believes you'll rise up to where you want to go with so much faith he doesn't even say it aloud. This is the Nagi Seishiro the cameras never see, the football star whose words are always twisted in interviews to be uncaring and cocky, the words of a genius at his prime.

You're in the middle of recounting the way one of your male coworkers kept speaking over you in a meeting that morning when Seishiro's grip tightens around your ankle.

"Hah?"

You startle and nearly drop your spoon. Dinner is long done and Seishiro's coaxed you to prop your feet on his lap beneath the table, massaging your aching muscles gently as you share your day. "Seishiro-kun?"

"Sorry," he mumbles, but his gaze is hard. "Keep goin'."

"So… he… just kept… repeating the things I was saying, but louder, and — are you alright?"

Seishiro's typical natural pout has been replaced by a thin line as he frowns deeply. He shakes his head, snow white strands floating like cloud wisps above steel.

"That bastard," he says quietly, but the low tone sends shivers up your spine. "Talking over you like that. Does he wanna die?"

You blink. You've seen him get like this a few times before, but it's a rare sight. "It's okay," you climb out of your chair and round the table, sliding into his lap the moment he scoots back to make room for you.

Heavy hands land on your hips. You squeak. "I'll walk you to work tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that," you bring your hands to his bare shoulders and immediately smooth down to loosely grip his biceps. "I know you love sleeping in."

Seishiro tips his head up and you drop a kiss on his pout. He makes a soft sound. "That shithead should know better."

A giggle escapes you and his eyes immediately soften into stormy skies. "Down, boy," you joke. Seishiro hums and presses his face into your neck. You shiver as he kisses carefully along your throat.

"Yes, boss," he murmurs, and — god — you squeeze your eyes shut. "How was the rest of your day? What'd you do to that asshole?"

Your face warms and suddenly you wish you hadn't put on his hoodie. It's huge on you, with the sleeves bunching up around your wrists, but the typical loose air circulation his clothes grant you is lost against the rising heat of your body against his.

"I told him that if he couldn't hold it together for the meeting, he probably wouldn't be able to handle the business trip coming up," you say quietly, "and he stopped talking the rest of the meeting."

Seishiro snorts and presses another lingering kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear. "That's hot."

You laugh at that, soft and fond. Seishiro leans back in his seat as you pull away slightly, settling further into his lap and reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. "You're silly."

It's quiet for a moment as the two of you bask in comfort. His thumbs rub circles along your bare hips beneath his hoodie and you watch as he blinks at you slowly, like a cat, his sleepy eyes tracing over your face.

"I wanna marry you someday," he says absently, turning his head to kiss your palm. Almost as if he doesn't expect you to hear him. Your heartbeat makes a sudden loud appearance knocking around in your ribcage. It takes a minute to catch your breath.

"Seishiro-kun?"

"Mm?" He doesn't seem to care that you did hear him, but the arches of his cheeks have bloomed a soft, dawn pink. "I wanna be yours."

You kind of… maybe… want to pinch yourself. It's been unspoken, as the years together started stacking up, but he's never mentioned it before. You feel light. Buoyant.

"You're already mine."

Nagi Seishiro is an egoist, and he gets what he wants. He nuzzles his cheek into your palm. "I wanna be yours forever."

Well, then. "I'd be good with that."

[mortysmith]

eye color hcs