#have some stupid fluff

[paper-lilypie]

omg….. rome ants….

[roxirinart]

Initiate

[girlwiththegreenhat]

the insanity of making a new streaming service when the streaming bubble is literally popping Right Now

[luck-of-the-drawings]

REFLEX IN THE SKY, WARNS YOU YOURE GONNA DIE, STORM COMING, YOU BETTER HIDE. FROM THE ATOMIC TIDE

(messin around with (ONLY) pens and colored pencils, error correction done with paper n glue)

[giurochedadomani]

Mountains of gold

“It cannot be that bad”. 

The first button of Shanks’ shirt is missing. Mihawk lightly plays with the string of his collar as he tries to work past the sudden tightness in his throat. Is it bad, really? It seems like a reasonable request. Why can he not bring himself to actually say it?

Mihawk has a wet dream about Shanks.

READ IT ON AO3

[sollucets]

as a tiny prompt: aye wearing akks clothes (maybe an iconic tank top that's a bit too big on him) and akk feeling a certain way

hi nonny i am at last back at it again. thank you for your patience! ✨i think akk's more iconic of his 2 tank tops is definitely the teal one

we are in the post-os2 long-distance akkaye timeline again; 1.2k, rated t for they're kissing

💜

It’s well into the afternoon when Akk finally hears the telltale sound of movement in his bed. His desk, across his dorm room, faces away, and he doesn’t bother turning from the chair to look. It’s going to take Aye a little while to actually wake up, and the last Akk had seen he’d been sprawled face-down across the pillows, taking up nearly all the room in an already too-small bed. 

So instead, he keeps writing, the little scratching noise of his pen the only sound in the room. Akk usually works with something playing in the background, but he’d forgone music in deference to Aye’s recovery from nineteen hours of air travel. He’s also not really working, not so soon after the end of term; he sets back to writing in his journal, content enough to wait just a little longer. 

Like he’d expected, it’s a while before he hears the telltale groaning of Aye actually getting up. He resists the urge to look for a while, but eventually turns to glance over his shoulder and catches the bathroom door closing, hears the sink turn on. He smiles. 

A few minutes later, he again doesn’t look up when the door opens and Aye’s arms loop around him from behind, a chin digging into his shoulder. 

“Good afternoon,” Akk says mildly, gently leaning the side of his head against his boyfriend’s. 

Aye whines, incoherent, and squeezes around Akk’s shoulders. He smells like toothpaste. 

“That bad, huh?”

“What time is it,” Aye mumbles, almost directly against Akk’s ear. 

“It’s half past two, and I probably should’ve woken you up earlier. The jet lag isn’t going to get any better like this.”

Aye lets out a muffled groan and drops his face into Akk’s shoulder, breath warm against the skin. He has to be leaning over the back of the desk chair, and it can’t be comfortable, but he’s clinging so thoroughly it’d be hard to detach him. He says something, barely audible. 

“What?” 

“What are you doing?” Aye enunciates more clearly, sounding both definitely still sleepy and distinctly pouty. Akk can feel his lips moving. “Pay attention to me.”

“I’m journaling,” Akk answers, laughing a little. Deliberately, he adds another word. 

“What happened to my cute boyfriend from yesterday who missed me so much he cried at the airport?” 

“Your cute boyfriend from yesterday had to carry you inside from the car and as such doesn’t miss you anymore,” Akk answers primly, holding in a laugh. “Also, you cried too.”

“You just called yourself cute,” Aye says, sighing dreamily. “You should write it in your journal. This is a historic moment.”

“Shut up.”

Aye scoffs theatrically. “Listen to you. I’m never so mean.” 

Akk pointedly gets another two words written down and very generously doesn’t refute Aye’s bald-faced lie. “I’m not mean. I let you sleep in, didn’t I? And I made lunch, but it’s in the minifridge now.”

Against his shoulder, Aye’s lips curve first into a smile and then into a kiss. 

Akk melts a little. He hadn’t known, really, how much he missed this. He thought he knew, but he didn’t. 

“You made lunch for me?” Aye asks, sounding delighted despite how he’s pulling his arms away. “I guess I can forgive you then. I am hungry.”

Akk spins in his chair, glancing up. “We can—“ he starts, before the words catch in his throat. 

Aye’s hair is down, soft and in his eyes. That’s the first blow. The second is his bare legs, the edges of boxers just barely visible under the hem of the third shot directly to the heart, one of Akk’s tank tops. 

On Akk, it’s already oversized, and on Aye the effect is worse. He can see the curve of Aye’s waist where the side hangs open, paler than the rest of his skin. It contrasts prettily against the blue-green of Akk’s shirt. His eyes stick there, tracing the shape of it over and over until without his conscious input he reaches out and curls his fingers around that waist, tugging Aye abruptly forward into his lap. 

Aye makes a cut-off little noise of surprise, just barely getting his legs to the side in time. His skin under Akk’s hand is warm and soft and his weight in Akk’s lap is familiar even after all these months away, and his mouth is still in a cute little ‘o’ of surprise. 

He rallies quickly, though, and that ‘o’ morphs into the cat smile Aye wears only at his most self-satisfied. Leaning forward to keep his balance, he sets his hands lightly on Akk’s chest and says, a laugh in his voice, “Does my cute boyfriend still miss me after all?”

Blinking a couple times and valiantly fighting the urge to dig his nails in, Akk says, “You’re wearing my shirt.”

It’s hardly the first time. Aye loves stealing Akk’s clothes, and he’s seen it before — but the combination of all that skin and Aye soft and real and in his room and his shirt and now his lap is doing something to him. Aye’s here to steal his clothes again, here and tangible in his arms. 

“So I am. Most of mine are still in my bags.” Aye’s tone is fond as he stares down at whatever dumbstruck expression Akk is wearing, but it goes darker as he asks, “Do you like that?” 

Akk tries to drag his eyes up through the sea of radio static that his higher thought processes have become, but before his face is another stopping point; his collarbone, visible from the drape of the tank top and sadly unmarked. His left hand comes up until his thumb can run over that exposed skin.

He feels more than hears Aye take a breath in, and lets his fingers follow the motion up the column of his throat. It vibrates as Aye says, a little shakily, “I guess that answers that question.”

Akk, who would usually roll his eyes but is distracted by the way Aye licks his lips after speaking, finishes the journey to curl his hand around the back of Aye’s neck and pull him down. Aye goes easily, melting into the kiss with a sigh that Akk has heard a million times and also not in months. They’d kissed last night, brief and soft and clumsy with sleep once he’d finally gotten Aye into the safety of their dorm, but not like this. 

No, not like this at all; he feels teeth against his upper lip. Aye’s hands leave his chest to wander down to his waist then back up to his shoulders and cling there, squeezing pressure through fabric. It feels a little like Aye might understand it, like he might get the ache in Akk’s hands and heart to hold him as close as possible. Akk makes a soft noise into his mouth, shifting in the chair, and they break apart for a moment, just far enough that their noses still touch. 

“So,” asks Aye, breathy but still somehow infuriatingly smug, “Do you want me to keep it on, or take it off?” 

In retaliation, Akk summons all his willpower and says, “I thought you were hungry.”

Aye leans in again, close enough that their lips brush, and whispers, “Shut up.” 

[fitpacs]

?

[mercyking]

Sometimes...I live in a world where Gary King and Nicholas Angel are cousins.

And sometimes...SOMETIMES...Nicholas' uncle Derek is Gary's dad.

[frostbite-the-bat]

you deserve the context have more art progress aka I Do This To Myself.

[lesbianraskolnikov]

Lets hit him with hammers.

[phantom-fleetways]

You know, i know for a fact that Surge's whole look can just be the artists reworking how they should draw Tenrecs and all. Like I will firmly agree that this is Totally possible.

But the funnier idea is that Surge is just atypical for a female tenrec and she's actually trans. Either that, or we agree that Gold is trans.

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hakamata Tsunagu | Best Jeanist/Kamihara Shinya | Edgeshot Characters: Hakamata Tsunagu | Best Jeanist, Kamihara Shinya | Edgeshot Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Married Couple, Happy, Idiots in Love, theyre so in love your honor, Christmas Fluff, festive fluff, ahem, this took me way too long to write i apologise, a bit late for christmas but YOU DO NOT SEE THAT Summary:

'Tis a snowy and cold day....and what best to spend such a day than with the person you love the most - messing around and revelling in the happiness of each other's laughter?

Aka, these two are so gay and in love, it's almost unbearably sweet.

[the-travelling-witch]

the second i don’t have enough time to finish everything i’ve already planned for the day, my writing motivation rears its two-faced head… where were you when i had plenty of time, you traitor /lh

[bunai-codepink]

i need to know if theres any other hopeless romantics here i refuse to be a solitary rabbit ;O;

[lit-in-thy-heart]

tentatively opening a google doc from september 2021 with the beginning of the third instalment of we are bound together by delicate stems...

[altschmerzes]

this is a bitchy thing to post i know but they’ll never see this im sure and im annoyed as hell. somebody tagging my gen fic appreciation post with how they like one very hyperspecific type of gen fic and there must be other good kinds of gen fic out there but they just don’t care to look for it is like. are you lost. this is the Loving And Appreciating Gen Fic Post, gang. if you want to appreciate one very specific type of usually gen (because it’d be weird if it wasn’t due to the conventions of the trope, not even because gen is a valuable and worthwhile and entertaining type of fic, because of course the only reason to read or write anything without romance in it is because the conventions of the trope make it weird and uncomfortable to include) fic this is not the post for you lmao. get off my aromantic lawn.

literally if you usually don’t like gen fic without a specific reason to read it in one hyper context necessary trope then why did you reblog the gen fic appreciation post. why. this didn’t have to be about you. this was about us for fucking once (people who actually do appreciate gen fic without needing a hyperspecific context for it)