#his eyes all squinty and fidgety

[overtake]

On track with STR10 during day of filming at Misano (28/01/2015)

[gingerlurk]

RAW

Joel Miller x f!Reader x EzraProspect

Out of universe. Out of character. Out of my damn mind. 

Rating: 18+ explicit MDNI – mfm, no-outbreak!Joel Miller, menace!EzraProspect, established relationship (with Joel), pair of consent kings, porn without plot, cuckholding (not really), ass slapping, tit grabbing, a touch of breath play, ass play, rimming, unprotected piv x 2 (be safe), self-pleasuring (reader & Joel), spitting x 2, a little hair pulling (only description of reader is having hair to be pulled and caressed), biting, cmnf (both men stay mostly clothed while you are naked), creampie, we’ve got a cock-drunk reader I think, maybe even a squinty breeding kink (I surprised myself there), aftercare, it’s implied Ezra is your ex (you’re cool though), he has both arms, he also has a variety of weird nicknames for you I dunno, Joel just calls you baby, Joel carries you but he’s just so strong, you know? Appearances from Frankie Morales, Javier Peña and Din Djarin. 

Look it’s just… look. Let me know if I should add any others, cheers!

Word count: 4.6k

AN: Interrupting my own Mandalorian-obsessed programming to share this self-indulgent, pure unadulterated filth. I don’t know what this is. It came to me as I was lost in an acute migraine haze and it just feels like it needs to be out of my head to bring me any kind of peace.

Honestly just a way to get me through the holiday sads at this point.

These are standalone characters, and I have thots for the other three PP boys mentioned at the start. So we’ll see how tortured I am by those/how this one goes and they may turn into follow-ups. Enjoy?!

--

He's not your first choice. He's not even your third.

But fuck, Joel wants this and you're seeing your options get shot down one after the other.

Frankie is an outright no – positive Joel is just gonna kill him the moment he lays hands on your body. Unwilling to listen to your assurances, your assertions that it wasn’t even your idea to begin with, he doesn’t relent from his refusal. 

Lifting his cap to run fidgety fingers through his hair, the gorgeous pilot turns you down with regret in his dark, sweet eyes.

Javier Peña, the sex siren incarnate, also shakes his head.

‘Don't get me wrong, hermosa,’ he croons, leaning in close. ‘I'd fuck you three different ways on three different days, no question.’ He lifts a brow, pouts. ‘But not with another man present.’

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he says, ‘If I can have you all to myself, you call me.’

All breathy as he saunters away, you file that for later. Maybe once Joel has had his fill of this little venture, he'll be feeling generous to such a request.

And Din. Well, the mysterious perennial traveller is off overseas somewhere and no one knows when he'll show up next. Bust there. 

So it is with a little apprehension in your chest that you text the man that, as you know all too well from your wild days at uni, is up for just about anything.

The message has barely landed on read when he calls.

‘You crave defilement as your beasty man watches, do you?’ Ezra snarls into the line. ‘Want me to do it? Raw? Want him to bear witness to the things I know I can get you to do and scream?’ His voice buzzes in your ears and makes your belly thrum.

‘That's quite the prospect.’

With some brief explanations he barely even pretends to need, a date is set and you hang up with a shaky thumb to your screen.

It’s shaking again along with the rest of you as you tug the door open on the tap-tap-tap Ezra places to the glass. His half side smile turns to a lascivious grin as he sees you, eyes tracking over you – head to toe. They flick to Joel, who stands at the base of the stairs with arms crossed and jaw locked.

‘Evenin’,’ your guest greets as you wave him inside. ‘We ready for this arrangement of ours to commence?’

In answer, Joel turns and climbs the steps. Ezra looks at you with a smirk.

‘Not a talker, is he?’

‘You know he isn’t,’ you reply.

Nothin’ to say to that so you gesture and he follows. Up the stairs and into the bedroom, where Joel has already taken his position – seated in a dining chair dragged up from the kitchen, facing the far side of the bed.

Your heart flutters at the sight. At what you’re about to do.

Ezra steps up to stand beside you, where you’ve come to a stop on the opposite edge of the double-queen. 

He hisses in a breath. ‘Now, we discussed this on the phone but I am keen to confirm, with all parties here and present, that – in your words – no act, motion or gesture is strictly off the table tonight. Is that right? No glarin’ slips? In this moment, right here?’ 

‘There is the one rule,’ you say. ‘It’s a firm one.’

Ezra turns to you, raises his arms and skates a palm across each of your shoulders. It makes a sizzling path on your skin.

‘Now that small detail has not left my awareness, dear,’ he says, melty pools of want in his gaze. ‘Be most assured. Anything else?’

‘We have the safe word,’ you say, getting antsy. 

‘Mmhm, I remember that too, don’t worry,’ he replies. ‘But,’ a nod to Joel, face serious, ‘with those taken wholly and – may I add, justly – into account. To confirm?’

Joel’s jaw ticks. He looks to you for a moment. As you nod, so does he – shifting his gaze back to the man standing next to you.

‘Excellent,’ Ezra turns and gives you a thorough leer, a Cheshire grin. Eyes seizing your insides with the intent behind them. ‘Then, I would say that the next pertinent steps are for you to remove every single stitch of clothin’ adorned to your body and get on that there bed.’

You do as you’re told, shucking off top and skirt but pausing with a little trepidation at bra and panties. Ezra has to make a little ‘go on’ motion before you shed those too and – fighting the butterflies erupting in your belly – climb across the quilt.

On hands and knees, you look up and lock eyes with Joel. He’s bent forward, elbows on his own knees spread wide, gaze intent. You feel Ezra behind and a covetous grip on your thighs tugs you closer to his side of the bed.

‘So,’ Ezra murmurs. A hand lands on the small of your back, warm and large and calloused. ‘I admit I hold a curiosity that cannot be helped. And I must ask.’

The hand raises and lands with a firm smack on an ass cheek. You gasp a little and the momentum of the slap has you leaning toward Joel, whose teeth have bared just a little. He doesn’t move. The fingers behind you dig into your flesh, urge you back toward Ezra’s edge again.

‘It is a simple curiosity,’ he goes on. ‘It is only this: why?’

Another slap and, at your pained yelp, he carries on, ‘Why allow me this? This beauty who I imagine has known only your hands for the longest time? Why let me have her now…’ His palm soothes the burn of his flagellation. He waits.

Joel gives in to the slightest shrug.

‘Guess I’m curious too,’ he drawls. ‘I’ve explored every single part of this sweet thing. In’erested to see what another man’ll do with her.’

The low whistle over your shoulder is filled with relish. You hear Ezra suck in air between clenched teeth. Holding you firm, he rocks against your exposed rear, lets you feel the erection straining against his pants.

‘Every part of her, huh?’ he queries. Without warning, a huge arm wraps across your middle and slings you up. In a heartbeat, you find yourself pressed flush to his front, the rough fabric of his shirt no barrier to the heat radiating off his torso. He holds you so tight to himself, you can feel the thud thud thud of his heart between your shoulder blades.

The movement also causes your legs to twitch and you feel it. The start of your arousal leaking between your thighs. Another look at Joel, and his intense focus has you slippery and throbbing.

You breathe deep and wait, eyes now closed and listening only to two men breathing hard as well.

Ezra’s other arm moves onto you.

‘So I am given to be assured you’ve amply taken in these pretties,’ Ez growls. Both hands cup and massage your tits, bring the nipples to a standing attention. He waits. ‘Well?’

‘What d’ya think?’ Joel spits with a small head tilt.

‘Mm,’ Ez hums, nods into your shoulder. ‘Mmhm.’

Fingers move up, up, across a collarbone and to the base of your throat.

‘And here?’ he asks. ‘Have you known her here? Gifted her the dizzying sensations of restricted breath? Held her life, both gentle and savage, amidst the pressure of your digits?’

At that, he presses his middle and index fingers into the soft skin under your jaw and you feel it, just a little. Just the beginnings of light and airy pleasure pulsing in your head. His thumb strokes by your other ear.

Joel's own hands are clenched into tight fists, resting on his knees as he has straightened up. Almost primed. Like an animal ready to pounce.

‘Have you?’ The man with his hand around your neck presses.

With eyes growing hungrier, Joel nods.

That elicits a surprised little sound from Ezra.

‘Well,’ he turns his head and addresses you. The thumb engages and pushes down, in. Now you’re feeling it. Feeling it thrum from the crown of your head through your body and down to your cunt, which is decidedly dripping. ‘This bird may have flown my nest, but you took a little something learned with you, huh?’

You can’t move, can’t speak. Might just cum. Might just fucking cum and he hasn’t even touched you yet. So you just let your eyes roll back and hope Joel can see how much you love it. The choke stays light, your possessor seemingly interested only in taunting and testing. 

A tiny whine escapes your throat. Ezra lets go and you gasp a little, let your chest rise and fall as you suck in oxygen. 

Look to Joel again, feel an undeniable rush as you see he’s staring at the apex of your thighs. His shoulders rising and falling too, almost in sync with you. He can see it. You know he can.

Ezra is still holding you tight as your head lolls with abandon, falls onto his shoulder. 

Finally, finally, the hand that had been around your neck moves down. Down. 

God yes, please…

But he only barely cups your mound, doesn’t go anywhere near where you need it. 

‘And this?’ he questions unnecessarily. ‘And of course, you will have intimate carnal knowledge of this right here? Please assure me you know every single blessed millimetre of this holiest of shrines. I would be aggrieved were it not so.’ 

‘Yes,’ Joel rasps in a voice filled with fury and lust.

You can’t help yourself. You start to beg, ‘Pl- Please.’ Try to buck into his hand, for the contact, for just a little bit of friction to where you’re humming like a charged wire. But it backfires. He leaves your core and covers your mouth instead. Leans into your ear.

‘Ssh, my bird,’ he murmurs. ‘Ssh, do not fret. I’m going to take care of you.’

With a little shove, he lets you flop forwards, where you catch yourself on your forearms and bury your head between them, burning up.

With your ass still high, cool air only has a moment to make itself known before he’s drawn you close, presses himself against your thighs.

‘You impress me, Joel,’ he grits. ‘Joel, I have to say that you have indeed impressed me. And with now a… slight doubt in my conviction, I am keen to make the case there is a space within her you have yet to take solace.’

A large thumb lands between your shoulders and starts a path down your spine. It takes its time, feeling each vertebrae and letting you arch against the touch. Slipping over the sweat that beads on your skin. It comes to rest against the crease at the top of your ass cheeks. Oh god. He’s gonna--

‘So Joel, what of this?’ The snarl behind you is feral, frightening. ‘Have you made an expedition of—’

He doesn’t finish the sentence as his thumb swipes down and connects with your tight ring of muscle, presses firm there but doesn’t yet go further. 

‘Oh fuck,’ you twist your head to look back. He’s not looking down at you but up and over your head, staring at Joel.

‘Have you?’ he snarls again, making you clench.

You can’t hear or see Joel's response, but Ezra’s reaction is a look of pure delight.

‘Mmmm,’ he groans and moves his thumb just long enough to spit there before it’s back and massaging your entrance. Hot want coils in your belly as he teases and teases. God, you should have known he would really draw it out.

‘Please.’ Another plea escapes you, hitched and breathy. ‘Please.’

‘Who are you talking to, my pet?’ he asks, pressing just a little harder and leaning himself against you. You can feel his hard cock digging into your ass again. ‘To whom do you make this entreaty?’

‘You,’ you cry out. ‘You. Please, Ezra. Please, pl—’

He drops to his knees behind you and, without preamble, lays his open mouth over your asshole. Pressing hard before setting a furious pattern of licking and sucking – turning away only to bite and nip at the flesh on either side. 

The man works like he is trying to devour the universe. His tongue circles a few times before pushing inside you.

It’s unreal – a sublimity to get lost in. You let yourself sink into it. Keen and cry and buck back into him as he sets each and every nerve ending on fire.

He pushes your knees apart so you sink deeper and reach wider for him. Hands are gripping your ass to hold you open and it doesn’t seem like he’s planning to move on anytime soon, working lips and tongue and teeth across your seam and every inch he can reach.

You just can’t stand it anymore.

‘Can I touch myself?’ you gasp. ‘Can I—’

He withdraws his tongue from you with a chuckle. ‘Mmmm, what do you say?’

With a frustrated groan, ‘Please, Ezra.’

‘You do whatever it is your heart desires, sweet one,’ he grunts against you, going back to his ruminations. ‘I am quite content here.’

You’d had your face pressed into the linens of your bed, but you arch your head up to look at Joel while reaching between your thighs, stretching your shoulder to give yourself the space.

As you move, so does he. In time with desperate movement onto yourself, he leans back, undoes his belt and pulls his cock free, stroking its firm length as your fingers connect with your clit.

It’s an instant jolt of mind-numbing pleasure. The hungry bundle of nerves ready to blow. Your scream of ecstasy, echoing in the room, is responded to with a pair of deep, guttural groans. Ezra’s shoots through your body as it vibrates behind you. Joel’s rings in your ears.

The man in front of you nods, encouraging you on as you circle and work yourself. Watching his own pace, you match it and it’s not long before your mouth is locked open in an ‘O’ of bliss and you’re cumming. The wet suctioning sensation on your rear drives your orgasm along a straight and narrow rush that shoots through you so hard you’re screaming into the sheets.

As you start to be able to hear again, Joel is murmuring praises.

Huffing and heaving on the remnants of your comedown, you look up. He’s furiously fisting his cock, bent so far forward you could reach out and touch him. You don’t though, just stare with mouth-watering want, desperate to have him on your tongue and pressing down your throat.

With that thought, you rub and rub and rub. Push back, back, back on the mouth working you with a tireless appetite.

Reading your face, watching your every twitch and pulse – Joel waits for the perfect moment and-

‘Another,’ he grits out.

‘Fuh—hah!'

It comes for you with a ferocious force, taking over every muscle in your body and making you shudder with its savage intensity. Both men pause as you spasm and let a dozen tortured little ‘Ah’s escape you.

Barely able to lift your head, you twist it just enough to see the possessed demon that was once Joel – dark eyes ablaze and tendons taunt and straining on his neck. 

‘Fuck her,’ he commands. Pre-cum glistens on your view of the underside of his shaft. ‘Fuck her, now.’

Ezra pulls away from you with a slick gasp.

‘Okay, Joel,’ he says – his outer calm contrasted with Joel’s madness somehow the hottest thing happening right now. 

Ez stands, replacing his tongue with his thumb, which he pushes in to the first knuckle. At your pitched moan, he holds you there. Doesn’t seem at all bothered by your hand still working your clit as you feel the pressure of his cock’s head at your entrance. It slides through your folds and he uses his grip on your ass to guide you to back up onto him.

‘I’m going to fuck her now, Joel,’ he says, all hushed and lowly.

The motion of your hips moving back right as he – fierce and swift – bucks his cock hard into you punches the air from your lungs. The slap of his hips meeting your ass fills the room. 

So full and stretching. The emptiness replaced by shards of excruciating pleasure. It’s too much. It’s just enough.

The space is quiet for a moment and you look round, see Ezra through your blurry, tear-stained vision. He seems paralysed, head tilted a little and mouth locked open. The only movement is the hollow of his throat dipping and peaking fast – the man’s practically hyperventilating. Sweat at his temples and eyes glassy and staring at nothing.

On your knees, split open by his cock, you wait and watch. After a moment--

‘Ez?’ you question.

His eyes clench shut, as do his teeth, and he takes several deep, dragging breaths.

‘A queen’s…’ he rasps out. ‘A queen’s cunt. That is what you have. Fucking… queen of cunt.’

And at last, he fucks you. One single draw back almost to leave you, then he’s slamming into you, making sure you feel every single thrust hit your ass and thighs. Convulsing your clit every time. 

He reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, using the purchase to lift your head so Joel sees your face twisted with bliss. Your tits bouncing with each smack of flesh behind you.

You can tell he’s enjoying the view, rewarding your efforts with a gaze so hot and crackling, the sight might just make you c—

The penetration in your ass leaves you and you gasp as you’re hauled up and locked against Ezra’s chest again. So that Joel has a perfect view of his cock disappearing into you. Over and over. A perfect view of your pussy being abused by him.

The man fucking you senseless grabs hold of your wrist, lifts the fingers that you’d been pleasuring yourself with and sucks on them. He moans at your taste, appreciative and reverent, like you’re a pure miracle. Pushes your hand deep so he can cram his tongue into the webbing.

‘Mm,’ he mumbles, letting your fingers go with a wet suck. He spits over your shoulder so it dribbles between your breasts. ‘But you are divine, do you know that? Does he tell you? Makes sure you know?’

All hissed into your ear as he pumps and pumps. Fucking up into you with a freakish stamina you hadn’t remembered before now but is coming back to your pleasure-buzzed mind. 

‘Allowing me to take this perfect body apart, as I see fit?’ he goes on. ‘You are divine.’

It’s just a little annoying. How coherent he still is. So – tightening your belly and bearing down – you clench your cunt around him as hard as you can and are rewarded with a pained gasp.

You don’t think he intends to, but he bolts forwards and collapses the two of you onto the bed, sprawling out over you. There’s just enough time for you to grab a pillow and shove it underneath, tipping your pelvis into him. And it doesn’t slow him at all. Flat out on your stomach, he adjusts and takes the new angle inside you with glee, hips rocking into you so hard you jolt and slide back and forth.

He ruts your pussy like the deranged animal that he is. His belly presses into the small of your back where he drives himself down into you. Teeth collect a chunk of flesh by your shoulder and bite down. Fingers tangle and lock into hair to hold your head still, so that you can’t move and can only take it.

He finds your sweet spot, connecting the huge head of his cock with it over and over. He fucks you so hard that your clit is forced down onto a run of stitching in the cushion, and it rubs the tight bundle in perfect sync with the stimulation being exacted deep within you.

It’s intoxicating. A rhythm of ecstasy. A crescendo that is near unendurable. You fight it for as long as you can, wanting the sensations to last, but your body has ideas of its own.

Ezra moans.

‘She’s clenching up, Joel,’ he says with desperation. Babbling. ‘I can feel it. Joel. Can feel. I can feel her. I’m going to feel her- cum on my cock, uhhhnnn.’

It’s so intense you just moan and whine into the bed, twitching and writhing as fireworks erupt inside you.

Joel literally growls. It’s echoed by the man on top of you, who’s draining the sound right into your ear. You twist your head to see Ez. He’s looking up, face to Joel with an ecstatic rictus of an expression locked on his features as you flutter and clench around him.

‘Oh, fuh- fuck,’ Ezra, finally incoherent. ‘Fuc- cum—gonna c—’

‘Rule,’ you gasp. ‘The rule, Ez!’

In a heartbeat he withdraws from you, pushes himself up and you feel the hot ropes of his spend land on your back, your shoulders – maybe a little in your hair.

‘Fuck,’ he repeats, panting. ‘Uhhh.’

From where you’re sprawled, limp and fucked out on the mattress, two strong hands loop around your upper arms and pull.

You give a yelp of surprise as you whole bodily slide out from under Ezra, across the bed, off of it entirely, and you’re manhandled into Joel’s lap. He’s so strong and you’re so boneless, you’ve got legs either side of him and are being guided onto his cock in a matter of moments.

‘My turn,’ he rumbles, so impossibly low and wrecked.

Your spent pussy lets him slide home in one swift thrust. Hands glide across the cum spread on your back, push it back and forth for a moment before he’s holding your hips and lifting and slamming you onto himself. You grip his shoulders for dear life, the place inside you that Ezra had just been abusing roaring back to set a blaze in your entire body.

Hands falling off his shoulders with his force, you fist the front of his flannel instead as he pumps his thick shaft with you, uses you on himself. 

Thinking he’s going to just go and go until he cums, he surprises you. Changing his thrust, he pulls you closer and starts to buck up his own hips into you. One arm holds you to his chest and the other reaches around.

Oh my g—

‘So you really like this, huh?’ A thick finger finds your puffy, messy hole – opened up by Ezra’s attentions – and pushes in. Joel’s eyes roll back at the resistance. ‘God, it’s so… tight,’ he drawls, huffing into your mouth. 

He works the finger in and out, specifically seeming to enjoy the sensation of that initial breach. It’s different, and physically heady. You’re not long for it, and with a groan from Ez, still behind you – a muttered, ‘you see, Joel? Do you see?’ – you’re screaming loud again as you anoint Joel’s cock with your climax. 

And now he’s getting close.

‘Whose cock do you want?’ he demands, not relenting his pace for a single moment.

‘Yours,’ you say.

‘Who else’s?’ 

‘His,’ you whine, tilting a bliss-filled head back over your shoulder.

‘Mmhm, good girl,’ he affirms. ‘Whose pussy is this though? Who is the only one who gets to cum in this pussy.’

The finger slips out as he grips you hard for purchase, driving himself to his release.

‘Who? Tell me.’

‘You!’ you cry. ‘Joel, you. The rule is– hah- uh- Only you can. Only y– Joel.’

With the tiniest bit of muscle control left in your body, you grind your hips deep into him. The sweat and release coating both your skin lets you slide and push. So that when he meets his cliff’s edge and falls over it, the head of his cock is firm against your cervix and his cum soaks your walls. Both strong arms lock around your back and his face is buried in your neck, mouthing and devouring as he groans and groans.

It settles into grunts and gasps as his high rides itself out.

With weak, sloppy movements, you grasp either side of his head and bring it up to yours so you can kiss him, slide your lips and tongue and teeth together for a moment while he comes back to himself. As you part, you’re greeted with the most beatific smile.

Ezra appears by your side, pants zipped up but a fresh erection clearly tightening them again. You take this in then tip your head back to him with a hazy smile.

‘Thanks, Ez,’ you slur. 

‘My unequivocal pleasure, dove,’ he says, lifting the thumb that had not been buried inside you and swiping it over your lower lip. ‘Know that I’d ask to kiss you right now, but well…’ A lopsided grin and a lick at his own lips.

‘Yeah, nah,’ you say, mumbling whatever nonsense slips into your mind. ‘Next time, maybe.’

‘Mm,’ he groans. He looks at Joel as you flop forwards into that broad chest and feel arms tighten round you again. ‘Indeed. If you do feel your compersion arise again and wish to seek out my participation once more, I will respond with an enthusiasm most prompt.’

‘Thanks,’ Joel murmurs. ‘Can ya let yer’self out? Got some lookin’ after t’do.’

His attentiveness has you feeling all warm as you listen to Ezra’s footsteps move out of the room, down the stairs, and the front door open and close.

Joel sifts fingers through your hair. Nuzzles your ear. ‘Did so well fer me, baby,’ he whispers. ‘So well. Looked s’fuckin’ good.’

All you manage is an affirmative ‘mmmmm’.

‘You want a shower?’ he asks. ‘Can ya stand?’

You nod to the first question and shake your head to the second, tucked into his neck. He sighs with content and braces your legs against his sides, stands up with you firmly locked in his embrace. Carries you to the bathroom where he only sets you down, cock slipping out, when you can lean against the cool tiles. Stumbling a little, you use the toilet as he gets the water up to temp and undresses.

In the warm cocoon of steam, he cleans you from head to toe, washing away Ezra’s spit on your chest and cum on your back. The sweat and the tears. The mess on your thighs. Hands soothe across bite marks and finger grazes. Each one he checks, ‘this okay?’, ‘this one?’, ‘okay, baby?’. You nod and hum and get lost in this unique feeling.

After, he guides you back to the bed where he’d watched another man take you to pieces, settles you under the covers.

‘Hungry?’ he asks. ‘Thirsty?’

‘Thirsty,’ you mumble. ‘And tired.’

‘Okay, one sec.’ His warmth and shadow vanish for a little bit, and you’re fighting sleep as he returns with two glasses of water. Makes you drink the first and sets the second by your bedside before climbing in and cradling you against his chest – by which point you are dead to the world.

--

Uh, so yeah. Go about your day…

[punkbarbarian]

face, stillness, arms, & texture for will 🥺💜

face: describe your oc's face. what's their smile like? are their orbs cerulean? what would someone notice first when looking at them?

will looks like oscar issac if he hadn't had a good night's sleep in about a decade and also looked like he was about to burst into tears at the drop of a hat. he has very expressive eyes and dark circles. his typical smile is close-mouthed and doesn't really go all the way to his eyes (used when interacting with most people to be polite). his Actual smile uses his teeth and his eyes basically look like they're shut from how squinty they get :) the first thing someone would notice is how tired this man is. they would think does he need to take a nap (yes)

stillness: how does your oc act while still? are they fidgety? do they have any common gestures or tics? does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

i think will sit still pretty easily when he's just vibing and nothing is going on. but when he's anxious or in an uncomfortable environment he's very fidgety and is always messing with his clothes by picking at loose threads, holes, etc

arms: answered!

texture: does your oc favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? is there anything they can't wear or don't like? what sort of fabrics do they prefer?

will likes soft, light fabrics like linen and cotton. he HATES wool because of how itchy and hot it is (it also has Memories associated). he loves the texture of leather but not necessary wearing it

send me character design asks!

[lonelypond]

Love Is For Losers

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 1/2

Summary: Yazawa Nico and Nishikino Maki are both key players on the Otonokizaka University Tennis Team. But now Nico has decided to "improve" Maki's social media and tennis game.

Love Is For Losers

Not the most flattering picture of herself, racquet ready, waiting for the return of a serve, but Maki Nishikino really liked her look of concentration. So she hit “Post.”. And the hearts and reactions and fire emojis piled on. Wait, what was that comment, from @NicoNi? “With squinty eyes like that, how can you see the ball?”

WTF?!?!?!? Junior and top tennis singles player Nico Yazawa was notorious for living on social media. Since practice started in September, she’d been leading weekly social media best practice training sessions for the Otonokizaka University team that freshman Maki had proudly never attended. And now she was trolling Maki? Was that a social media best practice?

Maki never replied to a comment, but to let the smug Nico Ni have the last word would grate across every nerve Maki had.

To quickly type, “Who’s in the top 10 national standings again? Can you see that?” seemed almost an illicit thrill. To get an instant reply of eye emojis, plus a sweatdrop made Maki laugh out loud. Quickly scoping out the coffeeshop to check if she’d drawn any attention to herself, Maki clicked through to NicoNi’s home page, Nico’s last post was a bikini shot with an obscene amount of hearts and various emoji combinations in an endless comment scroll. Maki snorted, too obvious an attention grab. Maki would ignore it and stick to tennis, which she knew very well. Ah, there was a pic of Nico rushing the net, one of her favorite ways to use her sprint speed. Maki had an in.

“Spend less time looking at my pics and more time on your approach shots.”

Another instant reply. Another sweat drop. “Nico knows. But you’re so pretty. See you at media training ; )”

Did Nico think she was going to get Maki into one of her stupid sessions like that? Maki dropped her phone on the table, sipping her espresso with a frown.

###

Maki’s phone pinged explosively. A series of messages from her self proclaimed bestie and doubles partner, Hoshizora Rin.

R: hahaha Maki Ma you really need to be here

R: Nico’s going through your TWIG account as her “what not to do on social media” slideshow

R: it’s so funny, Maki

R: (*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)

R: you missed out Check out Nico’s LIVE.

Maki stared at her phone. Nico’s Live, that happened when you went to someone’s TWIG profile and clicked on their pic, right? Maki did, grimacing as she clicked on Nico’s face. Nico was in front of a whiteboard, drawing pictures of tennis rackets, disgustingly cute tennis rackets. She leaned forward, checking her phone, then grinned like someone who’d just served a winning ace.

“And @Nishikinoshot has just joined the fans watching Nico on TWIG Live…”

Maki heard Rin yell “Hi Maki!!!” in the background as Nico continued, “One of the best ways to learn how to properly conduct and promote yourself on social media is to find an influencer you respect and build a relationship with them. @Nishikinoshot has chosen @NicoNi, the smartest move she…

“I have not.” Maki shouted at her phone and then felt silly when she realized there was no way for Nico to see or hear her, or was there? TWIG kept floating an “ask to join the Live” teaser, so Maki thumbed it. Nico paused, obviously her notifications were on, another one of those winning serve grins and suddenly Maki was sharing Nico’s screen.

“Jumping into the Live. Good initiative, Nishikino..”

“Maki.”

“So why’d you pick your TWIG handle?”

What kind of a question was that?

“Nishikino shot...you know...because of tennis...the Nishikino shot always scores.” Also worked with photography, a hobby Maki wanted more time for.

“Nishikino announces her prowess off and on the court.” Nico giggled, Maki glared.

“What are you saying? That’s not right.”

“Ah, so you admit it is confusing. Make a note of that, class, it’s always best to have a tag that doesn’t confuse people.” Staring right at Maki, ruby eyes twinkling, Nico made an elaborately surprised, amused face, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “We were reading it as Nishikino’s hot, ‘cause you are.”

Maki flushed. And fumbled with her phone to end the live, not even registering what other garbage Nico was saying. And then her phone pinged again.

R: Are you all right, Maki? Nico was just having a little fun.

M: I don’t want to talk about Nico.

R: Okay.

M: That was your fault.

R: Hey, I thought you’d want to know.

M; Yeah...but tomorrow, after practice, you’re on clean up.

R: Maaaaaki (⁎˃ᆺ˂)’

###

Grunting, Maki swung through at full velocity, then grimaced as yet another practice serve skipped out of bounds. She leaned over to pick up another couple of balls. Both buckets were empty. Tempted to throw her racket, instead she shook her head, tucked her racquet under her arm, grabbed a bucket and went to the other side of the court to pick up the balls.

“Hey, let me help you,” chirped an unfamiliar voice. Maki turned. Nico Yazawa had grabbed the other buckets and was hustling for the net. Nico was always hustling, all lean muscle and speed. Her sable hair, usually put up in twin tails, was loose, still wet from the shower. She’d changed from her usual practice uniform to casual pink and black striped biker shorts and an oversized pink t-shirt shirt that slid off her shoulder and read “Killer Cute.” “Coach ended practice an hour ago.”

Maki shrugged, starting with the balls as far away as possible from the spot Nico had chosen.

“You’re always out here.”

“I take tennis seriously.”

Nico hesitated, hands on her hips, watching Maki curiously over mirror sunglasses perched halfway down her nose, “Nico sees that. But you can get trapped in patterns if no one points them out.”

“I’m fine. I win.”

“Don’t you want to win better?”

“Win better? That’s not a thing.” Maki tapped her racquet against her leg, fidgety.

“Accuracy matters.” Nico picked up a tennis ball, tossed it into Maki’s bucket, and winked, “Crush your opponents with finesse, not raw power. Fewer wasted serves.”

Maki’s hasty rush of anger changed to curiosity. Nico led the team in aces, with amazing power for someone so short. “Coach hasn’t said anything.”

“Like you said, you get the job done. And Coach has other problems...like keeping Honoka from exhausting herself in the first few volleys.”

They both chuckled at how eager Honoka Kosaka was to chase down every ball, until she hit empty. As a joke, after their last practice, Rin had her girlfriend, Hanayo Koizumi, the team manager, post a photoshopped pic of a golden retriever playing next to Honoka’s double’s partner, Umi Sonoda. Honoka had laughed longer than anyone.

Nico was right, Maki realized. Coach had been spending a lot of time on the players with more basic problems. And their assistant spend most of the time on opponent research, editing video footage.

“Nico uses a platform stance, but Maki could get away with a pin-point stance. Watch my feet.” Nico grabbed a ball, tossing it up, swinging at it with a pretend racquet. Instead of her feet remaining the same distance apart, her back foot shifted closer to the front one and then she pushed off up into the serve. “You’ve already got natural explosive power, you don’t need a nitro boost.”

Maki considered, moving her feet through the change Nico suggested. It felt comfortable, offering more control. She nodded, then jumped back when Nico clapped her on the upper arm.

“You’re a quick learner. Hang on. Nico will hop over there and you can try it out. It’s more fun with an opponent.”

“I’ll win. You’ll be crushed.” Maki winked.

Nico laughed and it echoed. “Nico didn’t teach you everything Nico knows.”

###

“So you’re a local too.” Nico was scooping salad into Maki’s bowl. They’d decided to stop for dinner.

“Yeah. My family owns a medical center so I couldn’t just go off anywhere.”

Nico paused, eyebrow raised. “Why not?”

“I’ve been working there since…” Maki tried to remember her first job at the hospital, how old was she? She remembered sitting at her father’s desk, coloring in specially made anatomy chart pages in elementary school. Did that count as a job? “Forever.”

“Ah. Nico had to stick close for family too. Three sibs.” Nico flashed a smile and three fingers. “They’re the best, but they rely on Nico.”

“Your parents work a lot?” Maki understood that.

“Yeah, my mom does. My dad died when I was little.”

Maki paled, what did you say to that. “I’m sorry” came out as a mumble.

A sigh, weary, as Nico pushed Maki’s filled bowl in her direction, “Me too. But we survived. He taught me tennis. And…” Nico put on a sparkling smile, bounced her hands up to her temple, rock hands gesture, and her voice became brighter. “Nico Nico Ni.” Then she relaxed back to normal, “He said it could cheer up the whole world..”

Maki remembered something. “Nico Nico is the ideophone for smile.”

Nico leaned forward, “So the Nishikino isn’t just for show.”

Maki shook her head, “We have a hospital in Tokyo too. I’ve spent a lot of summers there.”

“Wow, a doc and a jet setter. So why tennis?”

“I liked it better than golf. My parents said piano didn’t count as a networking activity.”

“Piano? Classic stuff.” Nico created a melody on an air keyboard.

“Some. And jazz. I get to take a couple of music classes, at least this year.”

Nico wondered if Maki realized how robotic she sounded, and how laced through with sadness her mood was as she talked about her family.

“Hey, Nishikino…”

“Maki.”

“Maki. Play for Nico sometime. Nico loves singing. My dad always said I should go on American Idol.”

“Sorry.” Maki twisted a curl of hair, “I don’t play those kind of songs.”

Maki obviously just needed to know more about Nico, which was Nico’s favorite topic. “Nico is multifaceted. We can do Ella and Count Basie, if you want. With the time you save not practicing your serve.”

Nico winked, her multifaceted ruby eyes cheerful pulls as she hummed. Maki found herself intrigued. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nico will be your personal tennis coach to make sure you improve.”

“Not necessary.” Maki leaned back to signal the waiter. Time to start the main course.

A/N: Another AU Yeah August entry, college rivals was requested and the Olympics put me in a sports mood. Planning another chapter.

Still taking requests.

[fatcatsarecats]

Bossy Boots

Madara & Tobirama Words: 2,617 A/N: The Kid!Tobirama fic that no one asked for. Here it is anyway! Possible sequel in the works. Betaed by the shameless enabler, @redhothollyberries. Set in IzunaIsAlive!AU because no Izuna = no me.

-

Days-off are a scarce, sacred thing. Everyone knows better than to disrupt Madara’s routine of sleep, eat, train and read when it’s his day off on the threat of having their head bitten off. Like most things in life, however, Hashirama is the exception.

Or Hashirama just doesn’t care. Most likely both. Senjus seem to be immune to his scare tactics.

Hashirama knocks on his door, an hour earlier than Madara had planned to wake up. Irate, Madara opens the door ready to breathe fire - only to halt and blink his bleariness away.

Madara stares at Hashirama. Then he stares harder at the child in his arms. A very familiar-looking child with white spiky hair, red streaks down his cheeks and chin and the most fearsome glower to be ever paired with such chubby cheeks.  

“What is that?” Madara blurts out.

Lord, the way the child is glaring at him makes him feel as skewered and spit roasted as a hunted boar. It’s ridiculous. This teeny tiny child shouldn’t be able to exude so much malicious intent.

Hashirama sighs. “Don’t be mean, Madara. This is Tobi. There was an accident when Tobi was field testing his jutsu.” Hashirama pauses. “Again.”

Whether Hashirama realised his wording or not, Madara snickers. “Isn’t he too old to be having accidents around the place?”

Tobirama sneers, all squeaky and squinty and evil.

“You’re an accident.”

Madara gapes. “Excuse you?”

“Really, Madara?” Hashirama asks in disbelief. “Out of the two of us, I would not have picked you to be the one fighting with a five year old. I hope you know that I have my disappointed face on.”

Hashirama puts enough shame in his rebuke that Madara almost thinks twice about glaring at the prickly porcupine in his arms. He bites his tongue, lest he rebuttals with sometime immature like the fact that Tobirama started it first. And he won’t, because if he does, then Tobirama wins. Madara, the ever mature person that he is, refuses to let a five year old best him.

Plus, Madara hates Hashirama’s disappointed face. It strikes the most disgusting feelings inside him – like guilt, shame and regret.

Absolutely disgusting.

Tobirama sticks his tongue out at him, and Madara’s eye twitches.

“Could you look after Tobi today? Pretty please?” Hashirama asks. “I promise I’ll repay you with dinner some other night.”

Sniffing, Tobirama looks away. “I can look after myself.”

Incredulous, Madara raises both eyebrows. “You can barely reach the counter.”

“And you can barely win an argument.”

“You little–”

“Five year old,” Hashirama reminds him.

Breathing in a harsh gulp of air, Madara calms himself down. He wouldn’t be surprised if a vein is poking out of his forehead. That’s just the effect Tobirama has on him. Still, Tobirama is only five. Even if he is leaps and bounds ahead of other five year olds, Madara is the full grown adult here. He should not be so easily provoked.

“How long is he going to be like this?” Madara asks.

Hashirama’s only answer is a shrug. “His notes didn’t say much. They just say he’ll eventually ‘revert’ back to his normal state. Everybody else is at work, and I don’t finish till late at night. Please take care of him till I finish?”

Hashirama attempts to widen his eyes for transparency. Madara is sceptical. Tobirama, still lodged in Hashirama’s arms, continues to wish pain and suffering upon Madara using his facial features alone. Nothing out of the ordinary, really.

“Fine.” Madara sighs. “Bring him in.”

-

The thing is, Tobirama has the chubbiest cheek and the biggest eyes he’s ever seen on a such a small body. He’s on the shorter side, rounder than Madara expected, and he exudes so much belligerent confidence while being all wrapped up in a small, dark blue yukata.

It’s downright adorable.

Normal developmental milestones are not something Tobirama adheres to. Madara knows this; like everything else in life, Tobirama accelerates. It shouldn’t surprise him how self-sufficient and intelligent he is for a five year old.

His insistences on taking care of himself almost gave Madara a heart attack. He put Tobirama in one place, told him to stay, and the next time he blinked, Tobirama had somehow gotten his short little legs standing on a chair while attempting to cut an apple into small slices.  

On another note, Tobirama is cutting his nerves into small slices. What with the way he’s silent and unblinking when he just stares at Madara across the coffee table.

Madara peers up at Tobirama from his book. “Do you even blink?”

Like an owl, Tobirama is nonplussed and silent.

“Do you want a colouring book and some pencils?” Madara asks. “A book to read? Math problems to do? A nap? People to skewer?”

Tobirama doesn’t answer, or twitch. Madara squints his eyes. He wouldn’t put it past Tobirama to stop breathing out of pure spite.

Madara decides for him. “I’ll bring out a bit of everything, so you can decide for yourself what you want to do, alright?” Everything except the last thing he mentioned, of course. Kid Tobirama is scary enough as it is, Madara doesn’t need more nightmare material by watching a cute little kid stabbing people with glee.

Silence is the only thing that answers him, and he interprets it as a yes. He hauls himself up from the floor and lugs through his house, grabbing a blanket, a pillow and an assortment of puzzles he thinks five year old Tobirama will enjoy. They’re puzzles that he himself fiddles with when he gets fidgety. If it’s enough to entertain him, then it’s surely enough to challenge a teeny tiny prodigy.

He almost drops everything when he steps into the living room, finding it empty and Tobirama gone.  

-

Tobirama can’t have gone far. Literally, teeny tiny legs.

Considering Tobirama’s penchant for high places, Madara heads straight to the top of Hokage Mountain: adult Tobirama has two places he frequents when he wants to ponder on his thoughts, and since a very quick visit to the Senju Koi pond revealed it empty, sure enough Madara finds Tobirama on the top of the mountain, huddled with his knees up, looking off into the city.

It’s ridiculous that he has enough chakra control to climb up the Hokage mountain. Chills stab into his neck at the thought of a small Tobirama tumbling off a cliff so high. Panic is not something he handles well. Anger, however, is a familiar and warm cloak he frequently wears.

Before he can strip a hide into Tobirama, Tobirama sweeps him off guard with his grumblings.

“Why do you care where I go?” He buries his head into his knees. “You don’t even like me anyway.”

All the hot air rush out of him. Madara flops down beside him, defeated. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you turned into a child, not an angsty teenager.”

Tobirama frowns. “I’m not angsty.”

“You’re definitely angsty for a five year old,” Madara informs him, amused. “And you have a ridiculously expansive vocabulary for someone so young. You’re also wrong in that I do care, and that I do like you.”

Tobirama looks at him, sceptical at the thought of anyone wanting him around.

What a heart clencher. Feelings and Madara are not the closest friends, but if opening up will get rid of this doubt that’s clouding around Tobirama, then so be it.

Tobirama should never have to doubt about people wanting him around.

“I do,” Madara reaffirms. “I think you’re smart, courageous, and kind, even when you’re throwing things at me. Sharp things, by the way. I regard your opinion very highly. Fighting, and talking with your older self is something that I look forward to every day.”

“You didn’t want me this morning.”

“I was grumpy at being woken up so early, since this is my only day off this week. I suppose I should apologise for that.” Madara scratches the back of his head.  “I’m sorry if I was being a grump to you. I would promise to try not to be one again, but I’m just a naturally grumpy person.”

“I remember.” Tobirama twitches his nose. “I remember a lot of things. It’s…confusing.”

Madara bets. Two sets of memories in such a tiny body - one that’s running on a child’s logic and feelings. That’s got to be one uncomfortable, perplexing mix.

Always so much wiser than his years, Tobirama offers his own apology. “I’m sorry I was mean to you. Brother never wants to play with me. He’s always leaving me behind when he plays with our cousins. I know that he’s the Hokage, and that’s important, but I didn’t like that he was passing me off to someone else again.”

Madara’s familiar with brotherly resentment. It’s an inevitable part of growing up, but he’s always made the effort to never exclude Izuna. Even when he’s busy, Madara is adamant in making sure that Izuna knows that he comes first as family does.

Madara knows Hashirama too well. All the good with all the bad. He’s aware that Hashirama has a habit of valuing other people’s regard higher than he values his brother’s.

Clearly, Tobirama knows this. Resignation slumps his small shoulders.

It occurs to Madara that if seven year old Madara had met seven year old Hashirama and discovered this, the former would have surely kicked the latter’s ass. Children make mistakes, everyone does, but little siblings should never doubt their value to their older brothers.

That’s just unacceptable.

“Well, you got me on my day off. I’m here as your obedient minion. We don’t need Hashirama to have fun. We’ll do it on our own,” Madara says. “How about we play a prank on Izuna to cheer you up?”

A small smile blossoms on Tobirama’s face. Tobirama puts his arms up, in a silent demand to be piggy backed down. Either Tobirama is a cat, and climbing up is vastly easier than climbing down, or Tobirama has deemed Madara worthy of carrying him down.

Tobirama’s bossy attitude is adorable.

“Can we make him scream really high?” asks Tobirama as he climbs up Madara’s back. “His shrieking is funny.”

Tobirama rests his cheek against the side of Madara’s face. The cold press of soft skin shocks him slightly, before he chuckles.

“Like I said, I’m here as your obedient minion,” Madara tells him. “Your every wish is my command.”

-

When Izuna shrieks later that afternoon, it sounds glorious.

Madara sits on a cushion with a book in his hand and tea on the table. Tobirama snaps the book he’s reading shut, and scampers under a set of blankets beside Madara. He huddles into the blankets and turns his back towards the door as heavy footsteps stomp their way to their living room.

The room slides open with a crash to reveal a shirtless Izuna with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“You little shi–”

“Language,” Madara scolds. Beside him, he can feel Tobirama shake with mirth, but he doesn’t let any sound escape. Technically, he’s an adult that’s heard worse, but Madara does it for the sake watching Izuna grow redder.

And what a satisfying sight it is.

Izuna growls. “You morbidly disturbed little panda bear.” He points a shaky, furious finger at the lump. “I know you’re the one that did this!”

He gestures to his hair. His long, spiky hair. His long, spiky, neon-orange hair that’s glittering like firework sparks from the way the sun is illuminating it.

Madara raises one eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Izuna. He’s five.”

“He’s evil!”

“He’s asleep. And inside voices! Can’t you see that it’s nap time?”

The look that Izuna throws him is absolutely withering. Madara wants it painted and hung in his office.

But he doesn’t let his lips twitch. Instead, Madara says, “For what it’s worth, you’re looking exceptionally fiery today.”

The bundle of blankets beside him snorts. Madara squashes the bundle with his weight in rebuke, because sleeping little boys in the middle of nap time absolutely do not snort.

Izuna claws at his hair. He does his best to tug a handful out while screeching in frustration. He stomps out of the room, the screech fading as he gets further away.

Once he’s clear of imminent danger, Tobirama pokes his head out of the blankets, sniggering. “Can we do brother next?” he asks, eyes bright with devious intentions.

Madara thinks on it. “I’ve got another idea; how about we do Tōka next, but we frame Hashirama?”

Worry crosses Tobirama’s rounded features. “Tōka’s really smart, though. It’ll be hard tricking her. She’s the oldest.“

Sage. He remembers when being the oldest was the single end to every and all arguments he ever had with his brother. Madara wants to keel over and clutch his heart from the cuteness of Tobirama’s serious features. How he missed those days.

And don’t get him started on how precious Tobirama’s awe for Tōka is.

Madara closes his book. “It’s two against one. I think those are pretty good odds.”

Tobirama considers his choices for the moment, before the biggest grin splits his face. He nods, and holds his arm up, signalling Madara to carry him for easy conspiring.

Madara obliges him. Tobirama fits to his side like a warm, soft, missing puzzle piece.

Together, they duck their heads close, and they plan.

-

Madara startles awake at the feeling of a chakra signature entering his room. He sits up, blinks his blurry eyes rapidly to meet big, red ones staring back at him.

He jolts back and throws his swearing rule out the window.

“Fucking piece of shit fuck, Tobirama. You scared me!” Madara rubs the sleepiness away from his face, once he registers the tiny figure standing beside his futon. “And how the hell did you break in, anyway? For fuck’s sake, Tobirama, you’re five. Stop being so competent.”

Tobirama sniffs. “I’m five, not stupid. And language.”

“What do you think you’re doing running around Konoha at this time of night? It’s dangerous! Especially for a kid like you! Does Hashirama even know you’re here? He’s going to come bounding here flailing and panicking–”

“I can’t sleep.”

Madara blinks at him in the darkness. “Pardon me?”

“I can’t sleep,” Tobirama repeats, before fidgeting where he stands. “I keep seeing my other memories, and there are – some of them are really bad. Really, really bad.”

Of course. Madara feels like an absolute buffoon for forgetting that five year old Tobirama does not have the same coping mechanism as a twenty-four year old Tobirama. And Madara does not wish the horrors that twenty-four year old Tobirama has seen even on his worst enemies.

“Why come to me?” Madara asks, tone gentle. “Wouldn’t Hashirama be better for these sort of things?”

“You said that you’re my obedient minion.”

That makes him raise one eyebrow. “And?”

“You said that my every wish is your command.” Tobirama folds his arms together. “Well my wish now is for you to beat down those dreams as my obedient minion. You’re scary – you have a scary face. You can scare them by glaring at them, like how you glare at brother sometimes.”

He must not smile. No matter how much bossy Tobirama makes him want to, or how much the idea that Madara is more infallible than Tobirama’s demons makes him want to preen. So, instead of squishing tiny Tobirama’s cheeks, Madara opens up the blanket of his futon, and concedes.

“Alright then. In you go.”

Tobirama perks up, and all but jumps into the blanket. He burrows into Madara – and like the sadist he is, he shoves his cold hands under Madara’s back, leeches all the warmth from Madara’s chest into his side, before sighing into Madara’s shoulder.

Madara sends one of his cats off to inform Hashirama of Tobirama’s whereabouts. By the time he finishes tucking the blanket around them, Tobirama is sound asleep.

-

A/N: Headcanon that Tobirama is one of those people that had chubby cheeks that turned razor sharp during puberty.  Now with a sequel!

[violentvelveteen]

✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎ ✒︎

Pointless facts ;; no longer accepting Someone had to send me 55 symbols so I’m going ALL IN

1. actually doesn’t mind that he’s short2. thinks he looks nicer as a bunny3. hates salad dressing 4. knows he shouldn’t chew on everything but does it anyways5. especially power cables6. especially active power cables7. his lil nose just constantly moves how cute is that8. despite bein a bun it takes a lot to make him interested in you9. probably broke that sex robot after like, a day10. sexually attracted to throw pillows probably11. doesn’t know what yiff means12. talks rly quiet OR REALLY LOUD no inbetween13. a socialist14. likes to lay in sun patches15. occasionally prefers to sleep on the floor16. short attention span ™17. bunnicula18. likes reading but hasn’t finished a book in years19. actually a decent dancer20. can jump/run pretty fast21. EASILY SPOOKED22. baths freak him out no thx23. could probably live off forehead kisses24. makes v small noises in his sleep25. also kicks sometimes 26. bit someones finger off once27. actually more than once28. also enjoys yogurt (strawberry is best)29. likes to walk places when its sunny30. dogs freak him out31. most things freak him out actually32. pulls on ears when stressed33. paw beans34. his eyes get all squinty if he smiles rll big35. goes from 0 to 10 rll quick too36. SCREAMS RLL LOUD…. LOUDEST SCREM37. give him bits of chex mix n he will love u38. likes fruit printed clothes39. also rlly likes pink??? up there with yellow fave colors40. will platonically kiss u on the lips sorry41. he’s not sorry42. oversized hoodies are best43. frequently overheats tho44. super bad at video games45. the Suffer In Silence Type46. would paint his nails if he could47. probably saw that thing online where people put blush on their pets and was like…. yeah…. i could do that….48. spoiler alert it was cute as hell49. he thinks he’d look good in glasses but why wear them if u dont need them ya feel….50. writes in super bubbly print 51. prefers to write in pen52. if he drank coffee he might die of hyper53. bad at sleeping54. super fidgety55. incredibly cuddly with, like– anyone he’s comfortable with