#THEY FEEL SOFT AND SQUISHY

[oceaneyesinla]

The squeak you let out when you find the pavement rushing to meet you is nowhere near dignified, but it does save you some nasty bruises and ripped tights. Sanemi catches you with ease, and you're almost jealous of the grace with which he holds himself - placing you back onto your feet like it's nothing, standing with his arm still around you like he didn't just throw himself towards you to stop your fall.

"You good, baby?" His voice is soft in your ear, and you don't know if he's even aware of his hand rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder blades. Knowing him, it's muscle memory.

Looking down at your feet, you spot the problem immediately - the laces of your boot have come loose. Probably because you were more focused on the pain bending to tie them up caused than on making sure they were securely laced.

You're already bracing yourself to retie them when, before you can move, Sanemi is crouched in front of you, tugging your laces to tighten the boot properly before retying them.

"Sanemi I can -."

"Shut up. Don't try and be brave; I know your back's bothering you again." How? You thought you were being sneaky - you even made sure he wasn't nearby before you look your strong pain meds. You didn't want him to worry over something so minor, not when you know it'll improve with gentle movement and being careful for a day or two.

You open your mouth to ask the question, but he's already giving you the answer, "You were stiff when you got out of bed. Plus, you only ever run the shower that hot when your back flares up." He's as casual as if he's giving you a weather update, shifting to retie your other boot as if he hasn't just admitted to knowing your little quirks like they're fundamental facts of the universe.

He looks up at you when he's done, and you're still just blinking down at him. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak, and he straightens up so he can lean in and listen, "You really notice all that?" Maybe the painkillers are making you sappy, but your chest feels warm at the thought.

"Course I do. It's you." Sanemi speaks with conviction, not hesitating for even a second. Then, once his brain catches up with his words, the most delightful little flush dusts his cheeks.

You coo at him, brilliant smile tugging at your lips as you cradle his cheeks in your hands, "You're such a romantic, baby." Your smile softens to something infinitely fond, and you press a loving kiss to his lips, "Thank you."

He doesn't say anything, but the love you feel is reflected in the mirror of his eyes. He reaches up to take your hand, lacing your fingers together and tugging you down the street.

"Come on. We'll grab the food, then when we get home, I'll run you a bath. I'll even put some of that smelly pink shit in there."

You know for a fact that he loves the smell of your preferred bath soak, because he always makes sure to burrow his nose into your neck after you've used it, and once or twice you've come home to the bathroom smelling of it even when you haven't used it.

You decide to let him keep his secrets - content to squeeze his hand a little tighter as you fall into step next to him. It's just one of a million things you've noticed about him, and apparently, he's noticed plenty about you too.

[wikitpowers]

someone: angels don’t exist

me: explain this then! 🫵🏼🫵🏼🫵🏼

[unriding]

a … a gift from the talented @kruinka 🥹 thank you so much!! ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

[tangledinink]

HE'S HERE...

@theaspieasp thANK YOU SO MUCH he's precious and perfect and i love him forever.

[pfhwrittes]

the way i let out the most wistful sigh at the thought of kyle "gaz" garrick tracing the marks on his partner's skin from where his binder had dug into his shoulders.

pairing: kyle "gaz" garrick x transmasc!reader

tags/warnings: fluff, transmasc!reader, fat!reader, non-sexual nudity, pet names (babe).

word count: 290 words.

AN: some unedited fluffy stuff because i'm feeling some kind of way apparently. reader is transmasc (he/him pronouns) and fat in this.

please do not like and/or reblog my writing if you're under the age of 18, using a blank blog, or have failed to put an indication of your age (e.g 30s, '02 baby, old enough to remember blockbuster) in your bio or pinned post!

kyle loves it when you're comfortable enough to pull off your binder and sit for a moment with your back to him on the bed, gloriously topless, your arms held high above your head as you stretch luxuriously.

he drinks in the shape of your back, the plushness of the rolls on your side, the faint stretch marks that peek out over the waistband of your boxers. all his to admire, to covet, to love.

you grunt and kyle hears a faint pop from your shoulder as you slowly lower your arms back down.

"everything okay, babe?"

you hum noncommittally and rub at the groove left in your skin on your shoulder, those clever fingers kyle loves so much soothing the ache left behind by hours of wearing constricting fabric.

theres a sound of shuffling fabric and kyle's low gentle voice comes from behind you.

"alright if i touch you?"

kyle waits patiently. he knows that sometimes you can't stand his palms on your naked skin, that sometimes you need space and simon's secondhand hoodie to settle into instead.

something soft and wonderful fills his chest when nod once and your shoulders relax just a fraction. just for him.

kyle places both hands on your upper arms and squeezes the softness and muscle he finds there gently before arching his thumbs out to sweep gentle lines over tender skin.

your reward is a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. kyle's reward is the way you sigh like you've stepped under the spray of a scaldingly hot shower or sunk into a steaming bath.

there's another gentle kiss to the back of your neck and you hum happily, the ache of the day already fading under kyle's loving hands.

[faaun]

the way that diff languages sound r so fascinating they're all different and all so vivid

[attex]

fuckign love drawing him doing this (smoke machine)

[oceaneyesinla]

Your f/o can see you're getting stressed out and overwhelmed. Your smile isn't as bright, and it doesn't reach your eyes like usual. Of course, they can't let that stand. You're their angel, their sunlight, the love of their life. They need to help you relax.

So they make their plans. They go out and buy your favourite foods. They make sure your favourite drinks are in the fridge. They get your favourite sweet treats. They even collect up all the blankets and your favourite plushie and deposit them all on the couch, ready for watching a show or a movie or playing games together. Whatever you want, you'll get. Only the best for you.

When you get home, they're picking you and taking you to the bathroom. The bath is already half prepared - just needing some hot water and your preferred bath soak. The fluffiest towels you own are waiting and your pyjamas for the evening - their t-shirt and a pair of shorts- are on top.

They sink into the bath behind you, letting you lean on their chest and smiling when you relax into them with a happy sigh, letting your eyes slip shut.

You're so relaxed, in fact, so lost in the feeling of the warm water on your skin and your lover's embrace, that you don't notice them moving until their fingers lightly brush against your knee. A little, featherlight touch.

They keep a close watch on your face, pleased when your eyes remain closed and you become even more boneless in their steady hold. Leaving yourself completely open to them. It warms their heart and stokes the fire in their chest to see you so pliant and trusting.

They just want to help you relax. You deserve it; you've been working so hard - taking on everything thrown at you even as the bags under your eyes grow darker and the spark in your eyes grows duller.

They let their touches get a little heavier, a little bolder. Their fingers creep over your body, running up and down your sides, creeping closer to the swell of your breasts with every lingering pass.

You let out a little sigh when their fingers finally find your nipples, already pebbling where they're just about sitting above the water. Their touches are nothing short of adoring as they roll the sensitive flesh between their fingers, ghosting over your areolas occasionally.

Then, one hand slides down your tummy, stopping only to grasp lovingly at the flesh there before continuing down. You let your thighs fall a little further open without even thinking, and receive loving pets to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as a reward.

After what feels like an eternity and a second all at once, their fingers find your core, already wet with a mix of the water you sit in and your own slick. You're basically a puddle in their arms by this point, and they pepper kisses along your cheek, your neck, your shoulders; whatever part of you they can reach. Their questing fingers are gentle as they rub a few circles into your clit before sliding two fingers into your cunt, basking in the breathy moan you release as they sink inside. They know your body better than they know their own, and they know just how to draw out your pleasure - a slow burn that has you clinging to the arm they have wrapped around your waist as you bless them with soft calls of their name.

You're wriggling in their hold, and they know you're close. They lean in even closer, a visceral shiver running through you as they murmur soft words of encouragement into your ear.

"You look so beautiful like this. Let go for me, angel. I've got you."

With those quiet promises of reassurance, and one final curl of their fingers against your most sensitive spot, you fall apart for them, crying out so beautifully as your cunt grips them so tightly.

You look ethereal in the afterglow, skin covered in a sheen of perspiration both from your activities and from the warmth still radiating from the bathwater. Your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath. Once you recover, you twist in his hold to catch him in a long, deep kiss, and he can feel every ounce of love he feels for you radiated back at him.

He breaks the kiss reluctantly, wanting to keep kissing you until you both use up all of the oxygen in the world, but he still has a mission. His angel is being pampered, and he's not done yet.

His hands this time are still just as gentle, but now they rub soap along your skin, and massage shampoo into your scalp, and cover your eyes so no water gets into them as he rinses your hair.

He helps you out of the bath and wraps you in a towel, throwing one over your head with a playful smile just so he can see you shake it off with a happy little laugh. There's his sunshine, peeking through the clouds of life.

Your smile only grows brighter as he shows you more of the plans he made for the two of you, and by the end of the night, you're so wrapped up in each other that it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

You drag yourself away from the warmth of his chest so you can stare down into his eyes, and the love in your eyes is so intense, so sincere, that he feels like he's staring into the sun. In that case, he's happy to stare until his retinas burn, as long as you're the last thing he sees.

"Thank you." Your voice is nothing more than a whisper, barely disturbing the quiet that surrounds you.

"Only thank you I need is that pretty smile, okay?"

And that's exactly what you give him.

[marshmellowtea]

when i first started conceptualizing chris's mommy issues i envisioned celia's coldness toward him as a result of genuine apathy/disinterest in him but tbh the more i develop her in my head the more i start envisioning the opposite--she's fucking obsessed with him but given that it's not out of the love she's supposed to feel for the son she never really wanted but rather resentment and a compulsion to check in and make sure he's not ~embarrassing~ the family she puts on a facade of disinterest in him to cope with the cognitive dissonance. she'll never once step foot in the theater but she damn well watches his show every week. she rarely answers his calls but when she does she holds him hostage for potentially hours on the line. she'd be fucking devastated if he died before her but she'll never ever appreciate him while he's still breathing. she'll never hug him ever in her life but she can't help but hover close whenever he's around her, never bridging the distance between them but never letting him forget her looming presence either. ouugggghh

[fandomfrolics]

[chartreuxcatz]

So on one hand I understand why people say ”Guys you have GOT to stop calling fat people squishy and huggable!” It can be shitty when thats the only good thing you think about fat bodies.

but like its still a perk, yeah? Maybe I, a fat person, am rather proud and happy with the fact babies and puppies and kitties think I’m comfy and soft. Perhaps that is legitimately part of what helps me feel okay with my body.

[thefatfemme]

Mathilde 'Tillie' Ingellvar, aka Rook, Mourn Watcher and Taash lover

[citrine-elephant]

leon being yoinked like a tokay in the florida everglades (iykyk)

except his sleep stays uninterrupted.

leon, not exactly in his natural habitat, but in his territory. asleep, drowned in his blankets and out like a light for once in his life. maybe it's the exhaustion, maybe it's the funky bottle of purple liquid he tried out. it was prescribed, it's okay. no, please don't tell hunnigan-

dead to the world. a trial run. somehow, these thoughts manage to squirm their way into his REM sleep. purgatory.

of course, the time he's able to get some solid sleep, he's still haunted by macabre dreams. thankfully not quite a nightmare, but still.... unnerving? uncomfortable? where's the fuckin unicorns and magic rainbow clouds and glitter and shit?

maybe he has some awareness that he is asleep. lucid dreaming, even. and... he doesn't really get much control over it. it's a real bitch to get his mind to listen....

while he's struggling against his own brain...

yoink. on the outside world, leon's too far into that purgatory dreamscape to even know he's being dragged from his bed. any flicker of light that disrupts the dreary atmosphere only blends back in.

weightlessness, pressure against his limbs. it never registers as anything beyond a nuisance while he's dealing with other matters. like trying to conjure something nicer than grey skies, goddamn it.

[gyokutoll]

I think one thing I do find unironically charming about Hotaru is how he is in a romantic context. He's an absolute menace to try and date but I also can't in good conscience say that it's for no reason. He does have some very legitimate, deep traumas that make connecting with others difficult. You don't experience the things Hotaru did and come out of it without intimacy issues.

That being said, he's a pain to date due to that, but once you somehow clear that barrier, he's so straightforward it's almost a little jarring. He plays games during the entire process of trying to get into a relationship due to his issues, but once in it, he's so direct? Will just bluntly state that he wanted to see you, or was thinking about you. It's not good for the heart, I think lololol

[cyberneticdryad]

Every time I finish plying new yarn I want to yell and scream in excitement.

[redux-iterum]

Family potrait and Cuddles!!

The pure contrast in shape language between these two is, like my favorite thing about these designs. What a good morning this is.