Hunter Doodle 🫶

planting kisses on kenma before his stream and hugging him close to your softer body, the tinted gloss from your lips now stuck onto his face all over, but he doesnt even notice. he turns on stream, already on his game first thing, saying hello to his viewers and not bothering to check himself on the camera, assuming he looks the same as always. his live commenters exploding instantly, pointing out all the tinted lip marks left on his face, his lighting betraying him and only reflecting the shining gloss even more, showcasing the imprint of your lips marked onto him. viewers teasing him, questioning him, cheering him on, wondering if hes pulling off some sort of prank, and yet he still doesnt notice for a good while, all too occupied on the level of his game. its not until he finally clears the floor, he turns to his chat thats flooded with messages regarding the sweet kisses you left on him. kenma then, finally takes a look at himself, eyes wide, flush taking over, as he instantly shuts off his camera and switches back to his waiting room screen in pure shock, seeping in his flusteredness behind his computer monitors.

he definitely learned his lesson now about making sure he checks himself before stream, especially if you were all over him beforehand.

the letter gabriel made for adrien made me giggle a little bit because when he wrote the part

"you will seize the miraculous of that wretched ladybug and her pathetic partner chat noir"

it just sounded like

"you will seize the miraculous of ladybug and HER LITTLE PATHETIC UGLY BITCHBOY OF A PARTNER chat noir"

maybe i was born to read fanfic and obsess over fictional men idk

Luka looks so damn pretty In the new animation

luv the first pic he looks so much just like his mommy 🥹🫶🏻

Collection of shotos from this chapter because I love him

౨ৎ katsuki bakugo loves to sleep naked with you.

but not in a sexual manner, no. instead, in the most loving way imaginable. he loves to feel your plush and honey soft skin rubbing up against him. he loves how warm to the touch you feel, basking in the fervor plethora of just you. bare you.

just to rub his hands all over your body feels like heaven to a man like him. for you to be so comfortable in showing him the most beautiful body that God has given you has him almost shedding tears. he honestly feels like the luckiest man alive.

knowing he only gets to trail his fingers through every crack and crevice of you, that he’s the only one to love on your tinted brown skin is so excruciatingly satisfying. he can’t get enough of it.

no, he just can’t get enough of you.

it sounds stupid, but katsuki absolutely hates it when you cross your arms. it’s like you’re closing yourself off from him and he doesn’t like it. not one bit. so yeah, even if you’re arguing and he’s mad at you. he gives himself a second to cool down and with a huff he grips your arms and pulls them apart. he doesn’t keep ahold of them, he’s still mad. but he just. pulls them away from your chest and rips loose the muscles that were once locked in place.

“don’t fuckin’ do that.” he grumbles, before crossing his own arms seconds later.

THIS WAS SOOO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN WOWW

The Weight of a Shadow | G.W.

George Weasley has spent his life as one half of a whole, his individuality often lost in the glow of his twin’s boundless charm. Beneath the laughter and mischief lies a quiet struggle, a longing to be seen as more than a shadow. But when you enter his world, something shifts, and for the first time, George finds himself seen, not as a twin, but as a whole. In this universe, you chose him.

Click here to read an alternate universe where you chose Fred instead of George.

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

Fred always seemed to burn just a little brighter. His laugh, bold and wildfire-strong, lingered long after the echo of their pranks had faded. Applause always found him first, the crowd magnetized by his magnetic confidence. Even in quieter moments, it was Fred they gravitated toward—his charm effortless, his presence undeniable.

George would smile through it all, as though the comparisons didn’t sting, but deep within, an ache brewed. A quiet storm he kept to himself.

Maybe it was the way Fred's grin tilted, sharper and more self-assured, or the ease with which his voice commanded attention. Perhaps it was something intangible, something George couldn’t touch even if he tried. Whatever it was, it gnawed at the edges of his heart, a silent weight he carried alone.

And then, there was you.

You arrived one sunlit afternoon, a quiet force with a magic that had nothing to do with spells or wands. Unlike so many others, you didn’t lose yourself in Fred’s blaze. You didn’t mistake George’s laughter for an echo, or his presence for half of a whole. The way your gaze lingered on him felt like sunlight on frozen ground, a warmth he hadn’t realized he’d been yearning for. You saw him. Truly saw him.

At first, George doubted it. Surely, you’d mistaken him for Fred, like so many others had. But you disproved him at every turn. You caught the subtleties. The way George’s humor leaned toward sharp wit, while Fred’s was louder and bolder. The precision in George’s hands as he worked on their inventions, where Fred’s energy was a chaotic whirlwind. You noticed the faint scar above George’s brow, a remnant of a long-ago experiment gone wrong. And when you touched it one day, your fingers brushing the mark with such tenderness that it left him breathless.

For the first time, the ache began to fade. Slowly, it dissolved into something lighter, something warmer. When you laughed at his jokes, it felt like the world cracked open to let the light in. When you spoke his name—just his name—it was a melody that played only for him. And when you reached for his hand, your fingers tangling effortlessly with his, it felt as though the universe had quietly clicked into place.

Fred noticed, of course. He always did. He had been George’s mirror for as long as they had existed, and the change in his twin was impossible to miss. George’s laughter came easier now, his smiles unguarded and brighter. And Fred saw the way you looked at George, with a kind of quiet adoration that pierced straight through his own bravado.

But Fred never spoke of it. Not when George’s smiles grew wider, not when the light in his eyes burned brighter than it had in years. For the first time, George seemed to stand taller, as if the weight of comparisons had finally lifted. And Fred, who had always been the center of attention, found that he didn’t mind stepping back.

One evening, as the sun painted the sky in fiery hues, Fred watched from the doorway as George sat beside you, your head resting gently on his shoulder. There was something in his twin’s expression. A peace Fred hadn’t seen before, as if George had finally found his place in the world.

“You make him happy,” Fred said later, when it was just the two of you in the kitchen. His voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual bravado. “And that’s all that matters.”

You turned to him with your brow furrowed, searching his face for some trace of resentment or longing. But all you found was warmth, tinged with something unspoken.

“Fred,” you began, but he waved his hand with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “Really. George deserves this. He deserves you.”

And he meant it. Even if there was a small, quiet part of him that ached for something he couldn’t name, Fred would never let it show. For all his charm and bravado, his heart had always been his most closely guarded secret. And in that heart, George’s happiness mattered more than anything else.Still, as he watched you and George from the shadows, a quiet thought took root in his mind — a thought he would never voice aloud. If your opinion mattered so much to George, it mattered just as much to Fred. Perhaps even more.

maybe if he’d come back earlier everything would have been fine.

it wasn’t even in the middle of the night, like you’d read in the stories, or how you’d see in the films, where the long-lost lover finds their way back to the one they’d left behind and shows up on their doorstep at two in the morning, rousing them from their sleep.

no, it was a regular saturday afternoon, two p.m. instead of two a.m, and he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and the only thing that had visibly changed about him was the fact that his hair had gotten longer–and there also was a scar on his cheek. and one at the base of his neck. and another one cutting through his hairline. you wondered how many more old wounds his clothes hid.

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girls are like “I want a boyfriend” but reject everyone because none of them are their comfort characters