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satoru physically withers and crumbles every time you return his belongings. he doesn’t know how to tell you that he can only accidentally on purpose leave his glasses on your nightstand, or his jacket on your couch, or his shirt in your laundry so many times before he loses his mind. every time you don’t take he bait, he folds into himself and wonders why you don’t love him anymore and it costs him $22.50 to hear ieiri tell him to suck it up and use his words because he literally has to buy her company (and drinks).
but when you do take the bait, when you do wear his things, satoru thinks it’s all worth it. he can’t explain why it does what it does to him. it’s a sinister kind of possession he wants to have over you, knowing you’re your own person, free to do as you please, but also knowing you’re caged in him. it’s a lovesick kind of gooeyness that melts his heart seeing you fumble with the sleeves of a sweater that’s too long for you. it’s the vision of you seeing you drowning in him—in his clothes, in his things, in him, in him, in him. he’s selfish, he wants to consume you in as many ways as possible, wants you to drown in him, would die happily knowing you were one tenth as enraptured by him as he is with you. he doesn’t know how or why or when you gained so much power over him, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t want you to ever stop, so if he has to keep pretending to leave his clothes and bags and glasses around then so be it.
these type of kisses. like he couldn’t get enough of you. like when he grabs you and pulls you back into kiss even if you gasp for air. he just can’t stop once he started to kiss you, he’s addicted. and his kisses aren’t too rough. he just begs to feel any part of you against his lips so he could worship you properly.
and then
these type of hugs when he squeezes you onto his body and won’t let go. he just can’t. so he pulls you onto his lap and holds you until his stress and anxiety melts away.
but if he does the combo of that. then i��m dead.
(please delete pinterest from my phone cus i can’t stop_(:_」∠)_ i have at least 12 boards for desperate looking men T-T)
your new friend vernon is walking you home one night, telling you all about the date his mom is setting him up on in an attempt to “get out there more”. he admits it’s been a while since he’s taken somebody on a date, and he’s sort of nervous and half dreading it. he doesn’t even have any idea what he’s going to wear.
the two of you reach the front of your apartment building, and you face to look at him. placing your hands on his shoulders you teasingly say, “wear that navy blue polo shirt of yours. it almost makes you look nice.”
he huffs out a small laugh in response, but the truth is he’s sort of spiraling. you notice what he’s wearing beyond an aesthetic sense? do you pay attention to how the shirt fits him perfectly, how it hugs at his chest and shows off his arms? of course, vernon knows he’s attractive — people swoon over him on the daily, and many times he can get away with not paying for ramen at the convenience store if the girl at the counter is young. but, it never crossed his mind that you thought about him in that way. it was different with you, wasn’t it?
he thinks about that, and you, on the way back to his dorm.
you text him to ask about his date the next night, the curiosity getting the better of you.
how was ur date? did she appreciate the polo?
he admits he didn’t wear the polo, but doesn’t offer any explanation as to why. he adds that the date was going fine until they were saying goodbye and she went in for a kiss on the cheek and he held out his hand. he probably won’t see her again.
you laugh out loud at his message.
when it’s your birthday a week later, he wears the polo to the casual dinner you host at your place with your closest friends. he notices when your eyes linger on his lean figure, and the way you blush when you know you’ve been caught. you’re almost sure he’s worn it on purpose.
Will never stop thinking about how Leo, all alone in an endless void and being beaten again and again and again by the only other living thing around, still finds comfort in that space. The situation he was in was completely hopeless, and in any other circumstances he would not have escaped, at least not fast enough to save him from permanent (or even fatal) damage, be it physical or mental.
And yet, despite the bleakness of his situation, despite the agony and helplessness, all he needs is one glance at a crumbled photograph, one glance to remember his family, and that’s enough of a reason for him to smile.
Maybe that’s why his powers center around manipulating space - because no matter how much space is between them, no matter how dire his own situation may be, just the thought of his family, alive and okay, is enough to give Leo hope.
Oh hey it’s my first courier (that got turned into an oc) from.. Jesus Christ 2019
Anyway Dan! I need to make real refs for these characters still so you’re still getting the notes sheets lol. Dan is a young and rightfully nervous person in the wasteland just trying to survive. She joined the NCR since he’s a New Californian born and raised, and it seemed like the best way to make a difference out there. She doesn’t know much about where she comes from, but mistakenly chalked that up to amnesia in her confusion after the gunshot. So it’s just Dan. No last name.
I’ll throw in a free wip for a bigger piece for u too
Not like Tails’, definitely not like those. Tails’ scars are from ripping fur, burning flesh, badly healed broken bones, deep cuts, and stuff he doesn’t even remember, from before he even met Sonic and started fighting Eggman. So many scars. He’s covered in them, his fur hides them, so he’s lucky that his tails are the fluffiest part of him, that’s where he has the most scars, hes not exactly ashamed of his scars, they show what he’s survived, they show that he came through all that. But still, most of them are a painful reminder that he had to survive, not live, survive.
Now Sonic… Sonic has very few scars, almost none of them from fights or Eggman encounters, his dumb bots couldn’t ever dream of hurting him, he was way too fast for that, way too strong. So they’re not from those fights, no, they’re from something completely different.
All the baby fox fangs marks in his hands, all the deep scratches from tiny little claws in his chest and the back of his arms, all the little cuts close to his face, all of them.
Sonic is proud of those scars.
He’s proud of those scars, because each and every of those scars are a reminder that he baby fox that caused them survived, because every time Sonic bled because of that kid, it was worth it.
Because he tried to bathe him when he was more blood and mud than fur. Because he forced him to take medicine when he was sick. Because he hugged him every time he had a nightmare and wouldn’t wake up even if it meant he would instinctively try to hurt him in the process. Because he held him and didn’t let go even when he felt tiny claws digging and ripping in his skin.
Those scars meant his little brother still wanted to survive. Those scars meant Sonic did everything to make sure he would live.
Danny had been missing for 3 years now. He was scared after the accident at 7 years old left him with freaky ghost powers. His parents didn’t like ghosts so he had to run, and run he did. His powers made him bad, ghosts were bad so if he used them he was bad. He winds up under the care of the League of assassins and was trained the last 2 years as a bodyguard to the demon heads heir. Then Ras dies and he and Damian are sent to live with Bruce Wayne, who takes in Danny as he had no where else. A couple more years go by and Danny starts to get a bit curious about his powers. He’s a bit older now and thinks if the pits weren’t bad then maybe ghosts aren’t as bad as his parents thought.
Maybe he should bring this up to Bruce? But maybe he hates ghosts like his parents did, so he starts with Damian.
possessed kai au but instead of him mentally beating the fuck out of morro for going after lloyd he helps him heal from his trauma because holy shit this angry kid just needs to be told he’s enough