#squishy soft stories

[chunkubis-xxx]

So I’m pretty sure I have tonsillitis :( but the good news is ice cream is great for helping my throat. I brought a pint in and mindlessly lapped it up watching a show on my laptop, before I knew it the pint was gone but it tasted so yummy I had to have another. I waddled out of the tub to my freezer and grabbed another pint since my loving feeder @bigwhiteguy12-blog bought me a bunch of my favorites yesterday. He takes such good care of this swollen belly. Anywaayyy I may or may not have taken a few trips to the freezer because now I’m floating in this tub like a beached whale 🐋

Wish someone were here to get them for me so I didn’t have to get out of the tub anymore

[boojangs]

You, Me, Us: Chapter 22

Spotify, play Guide Me Home.

[retr0scum]

@awakenthebeing 's Piepoe, I really wanted to draw her.. Peppy is in awe

[mystical-growth]

Something wakes me, a restraining tightness. I take off my blankets and sit up to try and adjust my top, but some feel very different. I go turn on a light only to see my shirt straining with swelling flesh. What the-? *pop* Mmm~ what’s happening? My mind races as I try to rationalize over the intense growing pleasure on my chest. Maybe that wish did come true? Or I did like that one post- *pop* Mmngh~ 💕 my thoughts are ripped back to my strained pajama top. How big was I going to grow? How long was this shirt going too last? *pop*…

Thanks again for 1000 followers ^^ I know this is different than my usual posts. But a few old requests and compliments I’ve reread recently inspired me to make this 🤭 also kinda had this fantasy distracting me lately 😳 so~ I figured I’d share it 🫣 I hope you like it.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

The Guardian, Chapter 3

I needed an emotional break after working on so much Théodred stuff lately (I ♥️ him, but he dies!) so I did some more of my continuing Haldir story. Parts one and two are available for catch up, but the TL;DR is Haldir finds a small girl lost on her own. They can’t speak to each other because she only speaks Rohirric (though he’s now taught her a few basic Sindarin words), but he’s taking her to other elves who can help figure out who she is and where she belongs. This is my Haldir, who is a gentle, sweet person but is EXTREMELY reserved and kind of awkward, whereas Mildrithe is…not. Chapter 4 (next week) will finally be from her perspective!

(Art by the incomparable @brigwife )

************

Haldir let Mildrithe sleep until the morning sun stirred her on its own, an errant beam of light slicing through a crack in their little tree shelter and falling across her closed eyes. She blinked them open slowly and yawned, and he was relieved to see no traces of the previous night’s frightening dream still on her face. Her calm expression, however, was in sharp contrast to the chaos that framed her cheeks and surrounded her entire head when she sat up. Her hair, freed by the river from the messy remains of her old braid, had dried in a riotous amber cloud that sprang away from her scalp in all angles and directions.

As he watched her repeatedly attempt to push the same curls out of her still sleepy eyes, he raised a hesitant arm to help but then quickly lowered it again. It was one thing to carry her over rough terrain or to let her take his hand when she was frightened–such actions were necessary for her safety and well being. They were part of his duty as a protector. But for him to touch her hair now was something else entirely. To initiate that kind of personal contact, even just to use his own hands to tame those curls and wrangle them back into a simple binding, felt deeply presumptuous to him. That was the job of a parent, someone who saw not only to the protection of life and limb but also to the provision of nurturing care. It wasn’t his place, and he worried that she would be made just as uncomfortable by it as he was. But even as he resisted the notion, he also balked at the idea of leaving her intentionally disheveled. It felt like negligence to deny her the dignity of a neat appearance and the practicality of getting that hair out of her face when it was easily within his power to help.

Before he reached a conclusion in his own mind, she let out a frustrated huff and stood to fish around in her pockets, eventually pulling out a short leather band. Thrusting it at him, she plopped down in his lap, either oblivious to his startled gasp or choosing to ignore it, and looked back at him expectantly over her shoulder.

“Min feax.” She pointed an exasperated finger at her head.

He had been a soldier long enough to recognize an order when one was given, even if the exact words were unfamiliar. Swallowing his hesitancy, he gently smoothed the hair back from her face and raked his fingers loosely through it. He winced a little each time he hit a knot that tugged at her head, but she made no complaint and soon her unruly halo of frizz had been subdued enough that he could weave it into a strong, tight braid that he tied off with the band she’d provided.

He leaned around to get a look at his work from the front, and the sight of the face looking back startled him. Cleaned of old dirt and mud by the river yesterday and now with her hair neatly done, she looked even younger and more out of place than before. More fragile. He felt a clench in his chest and dropped his hands to his sides.

She turned her head back and forth, feeling the braid swish around behind her neck, and gave him a satisfied nod before moving off his lap and out of their little shelter. He gathered up his things, checked to be sure every ember of their fire was out and then joined her. They each took a swig from their water canteen and had a few bites of the food that remained in his pack, and then they set off again deeper into the forest.

Their misadventure in the river the day before had actually sped them along their path, the swift-moving water carrying them further and faster downstream than they would have made it solely on foot. He estimated now that they could reach the safety of a temporary patrol talan by nightfall and then the closest staffed post, where more help would be available, early the next day.

As they walked, she kept her usual place close by his side, but she occasionally skipped a few steps off their path to look closer at a clump of bright orange mushrooms or to point out a long, fuzzy caterpillar inching its way across a fern frond. When they passed a small glade that was nearly carpeted in delicate, bell-shaped white snowdrops, she gave an excited squeak and plucked several to bring along. Separating one out, she held it up to him. “Niphredil?” The Sindarin came from her mouth slowly but clearly.

He nodded. “Niphredil, very good. You remembered.” He accepted the proffered flower and admired it before tucking it into a pocket. She took several blossoms of her own and put them behind her ears or pushed them into the plaits of her braid, and when she looked up at him for approval he nodded again and smiled.

They made steady progress, and her pace was faster than yesterday, perhaps the result of the extra sleep she had that morning. They walked mostly in silence, though she occasionally talked to herself in a low voice, mumbling just loudly enough that he could hear the unknown words strung together in an amorphous mush of sound. As she talked, he wondered how she would describe this whole experience to her fellow Rohirrim one day. Would she remember only the terrors she had faced, or would she make room in the tale for the beauty of his beloved Lórien as well? For the golden leaves of the winter’s mallorns or the brilliant field of stars that shimmered above the treetops like silver dust? For the frost-tipped woodland flowers that sparkled in the first light of day?

Amidst these thoughts, a strange and unexpected question suddenly formed in his mind–how would she remember him when she told this tale to others? What would she choose to say about the quiet, solemn elf who appeared unexpectedly in her life and looked after her for a short time? But no sooner had the question emerged, unbidden, than he shook it out of his head, reproving himself for idle thoughts at a time when he should be focused on the task at hand.

Their way was smooth and uneventful until the early afternoon, when he began to notice a slight change in her gait as they walked, a minor favoring of her left foot. When the favoring grew worse and she began to limp outright, he brought them to a rest and pointed to the foot. She reached down and gingerly drew off her battered boot, exposing a woolen sock that had worn through at the toes, all of which were now rubbed raw and bleeding.

It never ceased to surprise him how quickly the bodies of mortal beings betrayed them. Though not often, he had fought alongside men in battle before, and he had seen firsthand how they took injuries more easily and healed with more difficulty. Some elves looked down on this fragility of men, but he found it oddly moving. To go through the world and face the very same risks and dangers while trapped in a body that was so much more susceptible to hurts took bravery that he believed many elves didn’t appreciate and couldn’t match.

The pain in Mildrithe’s foot was nothing compared to a battlefield injury, but it did require redress or it would only get worse. He eased the sock off her foot and poured a little water from the canteen onto her toes to rinse lingering dirt away from the broken skin. While the foot dried, he searched his pack for anything soft and pliable, finally drawing out a felt square that he usually kept wrapped around his pocket knife and a few other small tools. Now he wrapped it carefully around her foot, trying not to put any pressure on tender places, and slid her boot back into place.

She took a few tentative steps back and forth and looked up at him, smiling, but the relief they both felt was cut short by a distinct cracking noise in the distance behind them. She didn’t hear it but clearly understood the way his face snapped to attention, and she immediately froze, one foot still raised mid-step. He strained for any hint of further activity, and soon it came, loud enough that even she heard it—the tread of heavy feet plodding through the forest, breaking twigs and rustling leaves as they went.

He shoved the ruined sock into her hand and lifted her up into the boughs of the nearest tree, setting her on the highest branch he could reach. She hugged herself to the trunk, both anxious and unsteady, and pulled her dangling legs up into the protective cover of the thick green leaf canopy. He put a finger to his lips before quietly turning away and secreting himself behind another nearby tree to wait for the imminent approach of the intruders.

In a few minutes’ time, a trio of broad, stocky bodies came into view. Orcs. One was a bowman and the other two held short swords, and all three moved slowly, stopping every now and again to check and recheck the scent trail they followed. Haldir silently cursed the loss of his arrows, which had been claimed by the river when he dove in the day before, though in truth he wasn’t sure whether his bow still had its aim and balance anyway after having bounced off of boulders and all kinds of other underwater debris that might have bent the hard yew wood.

Without a better purpose for it now, he gripped the bow in his hands like a bludgeon and held his breath, listening intently to the sound of steps moving ever closer. His mind raced through strategy—timing, angles, approaches—but when the moment presented itself all he needed were his instincts. He sprang from his hiding place, taking a full-body swing with the bow at the nearest orc. It cracked on impact, but the force of the blow knocked the unsuspecting creature backwards and into a companion, sending them both sprawling to the ground. He leaped onto the first prone body, pressing what was left of the bow in his hand across its neck to hold it in place as he snatched the short sword from its side, and he slashed quickly across first one and then the other toppled opponent. As he attempted to stand, the third orc launched itself at him from the side, knocking the sword from his hand, and they grappled for a time, rolling across the leaf-covered ground as each sought to pin the other down or to land a debilitating blow. At last, using a forearm braced against the orc’s chest to force some separation between them, he managed to snake his other hand down to his belt and pull his hunting knife, jamming it into the orc’s side all the way to the hilt.

The dirty, rough hands clasped around his neck immediately slackened. He pulled the knife back out and the orc slid off him, rolling silently into the low brush that surrounded them. He listened carefully for several long moments, ensuring both that he heard no further breath from the three orcs he had just dispatched and no indication that others might still be coming. Hearing nothing but silence, he wiped the blade of his knife on a clump of grass, returned it to his belt, and went to Mildrithe.

She looked down at him from her perch in the tree, eyes wide and face pale. Her boot sat on the ground below her, having slipped off as she tried to scrabble further up the trunk to a higher bough, and her bandaged toes now dangled near his face. He reached up for her and she leaned forward into his arms so that he could lift her back to the ground. But no sooner had he put her on her feet and straightened up again when she cried out, her voice shrill with panic.

“Dreor!” In less than an instant, tears welled up in her eyes and she burst into heaving sobs.

His heart leapt into his throat. He spun around, expecting to see another orc headed their way, but there was nothing but calm stillness behind them. He turned back, but her sobs only increased as he faced her once again. He dropped to his knees, grabbing her shoulders and turning her in a circle, scanning for an injury of some kind. She had been out of harm’s way, but he could think of no other explanation for her cries, which came now as long, shuddering wails that shook the entirety of her small body.

He sat, frozen, his heart pounding with frantic energy but his mind stunned into confused paralysis. She had been in control of herself when he lifted her out of the tree. What could be causing this anguished distress, so unlike anything she had shown before? Dreor? Was she trying to tell him that she was hurt? Was she merely terrified, needing to let out the horror she had swallowed while hiding silently in the tree? Or some other horror brought back to life by this newest brush with violence and death?

He finally took her shoulders once more, attempting to force her focus to his face. “Mildrithe, what do you need? What can I do?” He could only hope that she would understand from his tone and expression alone what he had asked.

Her sobs continued, but at last she raised a small, trembling hand and pointed at his chest. Looking down, he saw a deep red stain spreading slowly across the front of his tunic, clear evidence of a wound he hadn’t felt or even been aware of. He pulled several layers of clothing over his head, laying bare a long gash that ran from his left shoulder to the middle of his collarbone, the handiwork of a sharp claw.

Bunching up his thin undershirt, he wiped his chest, and in the fraction of a second before fresh blood spilled out again he got a clear view of the wound. Wide, but not deep. The kind of injury that bled a lot but caused him no real harm or serious pain. But she didn’t know that. She had seen blood, and perhaps she assumed the worst. That he was seriously hurt. That she would be left all alone once again, only now even farther from home and having lost yet another protector.

He put a hand under her chin and tipped her face up. “Mildrithe, you don’t need to be scared. It’s alright. See?” He pressed the cloth against the wound again and tapped it lightly a few times with his fingertips, keeping his face calm and even as he did so. “It doesn’t even really hurt. It’ll be fine, I promise.” When her weeping continued unabated, he sat back on his heels, adrift in helplessness. He could think of only one thing to do, but he found himself oddly afraid to do it. If he got this wrong, if he somehow made everything worse, he would hate himself. But if the alternative was to do nothing, to let her just continue suffering alone in her distress, he knew that was more unforgivable. He took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her.

She collapsed into him and hid her face in the soft curtain of his hair. They sat for long minutes holding each other as she cried, unable to just turn off her flood of emotions after the dam had broken. His cheeks blushed a furious red, but he held on tight and rubbed a comforting hand up and down her back, feeling at once broken hearted for her fear and immensely relieved that an embrace seemed to be what she wanted and needed.

When she had at last cried herself out and sobs were replaced by the occasional hiccup, she wiped her face with his sleeve and released her hold on his neck. Her eyes were swollen and red and she looked exhausted, but she managed a small, embarrassed smile. He gave her the water canteen and sat her against a tree while he set to work tearing his undershirt into strips, wrapping them around his neck and shoulder to cover the gash along his collarbone. By the time he was almost done, she had regained enough composure to come hold a loose end as he tied off the final strip, and he pulled his regular shirt and tunic back over his head.

As spent as she looked, she seemed to understand that they had to keep moving. Orcs rarely made it this far into the forest, and it nagged at his conscience to know that he could have stopped them much sooner had he been at his regular post as planned. But if there were three, there might be more, and they couldn’t linger here in the open. They gathered their things and set out again, and after several more hours of silent, uneventful trekking they reached the talan where he intended to spend their last night together.

She accepted the idea of climbing a tree and sleeping on a suspended platform with surprising nonchalance, perhaps having already used up all the energy needed to question or wonder at the day’s events. When they were settled safely on the talan and she had a few bites of food, she curled up next to him again and dropped quickly into wearied sleep even though the sun was barely below the horizon and the mild glow of twilight still surrounded them.

Her cheek rested against his ribs, and he spent a long time simply watching her head gently rise and fall in time with his own breathing. He tried to imagine what Idhrien would think to see him in this position, and he pictured her sitting quietly across from them, her bright, thoughtful eyes watching her husband with both surprise and pride. They had talked many times about starting a family of their own, but only in general terms–something for a later day–and he had always wondered in his heart whether he had the makings of a good parent. His father had been a cold presence in his childhood, and Haldir worried that his own natural reserve might come across as a similar coldness to those in his life that he loved deeply. Gazing at Mildrithe cuddled up to him now, it seemed that maybe his concern was unfounded. Maybe this was proof that he could figure out fatherhood just as he had figured out many other challenges before. Or maybe he was ridiculous for even thinking about it in this situation, holed up on a talan with a child that he barely knew–that wasn’t even his kind–and would be out of his care entirely as soon as he reached other wardens the next day. He sighed and stared up at the stars, lost in a swirl of thoughts, until the soft trill of birdsong replaced the chirping of crickets and the first rays of sunlight returned to the forest.

The morning passed easily with a quiet breakfast and early start. The air was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and within a few hours they had come within scouting distance of the wardens’ post that he knew lay just ahead, out of sight. A familiar whistling signal soon emerged from the trees, and no sooner had he answered it than his brother Rúmil appeared, slipping out of the brush where he had been expertly concealed. Mildrithe drew closer to Haldir’s side, edging behind him as Rúmil approached, but she still followed him forward, reassured by his own calm and no doubt also by the striking similarity between this newcomer and her guardian of the last few days.

“Maedol, hanar,” said Rúmil, placing a hand on his chest and inclining forward slightly.

“Mae govannen, honeg,” replied Haldir. They each threw an arm loosely around the other’s neck and pressed their foreheads together.

“We weren’t expecting to see you here,” said Rúmil when they separated. His eye trailed down to the bloodstains on Haldir’s clothing, but his evident concern was quickly dismissed with a wave of the hand.

“I wasn’t expecting it either, but sometimes fate forces a change in our plans.” He took hold of Mildrithe’s elbow and inched her out from behind him.

Rúmil cocked an eyebrow at his brother but smiled down at her and gave a courteous bow. She offered a hesitant smile in response. “Pedig edhellen, píneth?”

She looked to Haldir, who answered on her behalf. “She doesn’t. At least, not more than the few words I’ve taught her. She’s a Rohirrim. Her name is Mildrithe.”

“I see.” Rúmil studied her face for a long moment and bit thoughtfully at his bottom lip before looking back at his brother. “And what is she doing with you?”

He listened intently as Haldir described how he had found Mildrithe and what little he knew of her, and as he listened Rúmil’s expression became ever more grave. He shook his head sadly when Haldir reached the end of the tale.

“Yesterday we received a report from Haedirn of dead men found over the border by the Celebrant, only a few leagues from your post. Six of them, headed further north but ambushed by orcs before they made it to the marshes. No women and no survivors, or so he thought. But it’s hard to imagine that a child of men ends up lost and alone so close to such a massacre by pure coincidence.”

Haldir frowned. “None of what you say sets my mind at ease. And if orcs attacked this group at the border, they have only grown bolder since. Three followed us as far as the Hithglad, and there may be more.” He looked down. “Being drawn away from my post has left us without good scouting information.”

“Well that, at least, is a problem that can soon be addressed,” said Rúmil. “One of the wardens here can take the girl the rest of the way to Caras Galadhon, and then you’ll be free to return to your post and reset the watch.” He squatted down in front of Mildrithe, and they eyed each other with cautious interest. “You say she is a Rohirrim? Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be when I can’t ask her directly. But I’ve heard enough Rohirric in my life to recognize it. That’s the language she speaks, I’m sure. Why?”

Rúmil pulled a small knife from a bag that was slung over his shoulder, and turned it over in his hands so that the hilt faced Mildrithe. She paled at the sight of it and grabbed onto Haldir’s leg, burying her face in the fabric of his tunic. Haldir gave his brother a sharp look.

“Put that away, you’re upsetting her.” He ran a hand gently over the crown of her head and down to her shoulder, where he rested it.

“Haedirn took this from one of the dead men at the border,” said Rúmil, standing up and holding the knife out now for Haldir’s view. “Do you see the charging stag engraved there? That’s a Dunlending symbol, the device of one of their clans that lives now in the Loeg Ningloron. And yet she clearly knows the knife. So if she is really a Rohirrim as you say…what would she be doing in a group of Dunlending men on the move?”

Haldir breathed out a long, slow sigh. He had always known that something horribly wrong must have happened to ever put Mildrithe in his path, but the true weight of her circumstances was easier to forget while her tragedy was still abstract and undefined. To imagine her now in the midst of that ambush, terrified and helpless, filled him with both anger and pity, and he gave silent thanks to Eru that she had somehow escaped. And yet Rúmil’s question was far from the only unknown remaining. Did she know those other men were dead? If she knew, would she be sad, or would she be glad to be free of them? Where could the elves take her to be reunited with her own people if her only connection to those people lay now in a field by the river, hastily buried by Haedirn and his companions?

She pulled back from his side at last and ventured a wary look in Rúmil’s direction before turning her eyes back to Haldir. He pushed the uncertainty and sorrow from his face, if not from his heart, and smiled encouragingly. Today, at least, she was safe, delivered to the protection of this post. Where she went next and what fate ultimately lay before her was not his to control. He had his own obligations to contend with, duties that weighed on him, and no one would think twice at him returning to those duties as quickly as he could.

And yet, as he contemplated that possibility now, a dull, aching feeling crept into his chest and settled heavily on his heart.

**********

Min feax = Old English/Rohirric for “my hair”

Dreor = Old English/Rohirric for “blood”

Maedol, hanar = Sindarin for “welcome, brother”

Mae govannen, honeg = Sindarin for “well met, little brother”

Pedig edhellen, píneth? = Sindarin for “do you speak elvish, little one?”

[Don’t @ me if the translations aren’t perfect, I tried! 🙂]

@konartiste @dancerinthestorm @emmanuellececchi as requested

[respectthepetty]

Something something about the fact that in Unintentional Love Story DongHee keeps reacting to HoTae's advances with violence

And even tells HoTae to hit him so they can move past this

makes me think that after decades of watching HoTae get slapped and hit by his exes, DongHee believes that the only way to push HoTae away is to literally push him. He has seen HoTae bounce back after each blow his exes dealt him, so DongHee even states this will put a wall between them, but it won't ruin their friendship....

unlike him loving HoTae. If he actually did that, neither would be able to come back.

But soft touches is something HoTae only got from DongHee

So if HoTae has to literally fight DongHee to get them back, then so be it.

[alackofghosts]

anyway i was thinking about this in particular. my vision.........

[kayla-crazy-stuffs]

Protective Karlnapity noms maybe???

Have some traditional art :)

[stormikitty]

One of my stuffed animals growing up was trans and a completely different one was a girl that people always thought was a boy because of her name, which I would argue is a perfectly gender neutral name to give a stuffed animal. They were both bears and I would scream at anyone who misgendered either of them.

[king-of-fae]

Left Behind

A map of the dormitories rests on the coffee table. Lines are carefully drawn, mapping a plan of attack that leads directly toward the kitchens on the first floor. You and Callum have been planning this all weekend and now the day has come. The day of the heist. Today, the head chef is serving their magnum opus for dessert: honey cake with a wildberry compote. The chef claims that it’s some ancient family recipe that they refuse to share.

It’s a huge hit with the students, but the unfortunate consequence of that popularity is that if you don’t get to the dining hall fast enough, it’s gone. Neither of you were able to make it fast enough the last few opportunities and drastic times call for drastic measures. Is sneaking into the dining hall before it opens perhaps a little too drastic? Perhaps. Is the cake really that good? Yes. Yes, it is.

“We can’t afford to make any mistakes, MC,” Callum says in a solemn tone, “I refuse to let those fools in room 313 taunt me again.”

You remember them. They flaunted their dessert in front of both of you, purposely sitting at your table just to be annoying. You also remember Callum kicking them in the shins.

You match his tone and nod, “Those guys suck.”

You fold up the map and put it in your pocket. You and Callum lock eyes and he gives you a resolute nod before you both begin your biggest heist yet.

__________________________

Things definitely didn't go according to plan. You had gotten to the kitchen without any issues and found a couple cakes sitting on the counter to rest. Unfortunately, you didn't account for the head chef's ability to hear you from the other room. You always forget just how acute elven hearing is. So here you and Callum sit, on a bench in the currently empty dining hall as you await your fates with Head Chef Lazuli standing before you.

"I'm not entirely sure how you thought I wouldn't catch you two," they say, towering over you two. You can see their tail flicking back and forth irritably.

"Are you going to send us to the Grand Enchanter's office?" You tug nervously at a stray thread on your sleeve. Next to you, Callum is sitting cross-legged on the bench with his arms crossed and a visible pout of defeat on his face. He has opted for the silent treatment against your captor so that leaves it to you to negotiate.

You look up at them, trying to look as remorseful as possible. They stare you down with stern cerulean eyes until they sigh and run a hand through their short, choppy brown hair.

"Alright, I'll cut you some slack." They hold up a finger to interrupt your escape from the bench. "In return, you two have to help me finish baking."

Callum perks back up, "You're gonna let us help bake the cakes?! I thought you said the recipe was a secret!"

They laugh, "Nah, I just say that 'cause I'm too lazy to write it down. Now hurry up and get back into the kitchen."

The rest of your evening is spent in the kitchens. You had to do the dishes after the dinner rush, but the chef let you two make an extra cake to take back to your dorms to share once your punishment was over. Covered in flour and with honey still stuck to your fingers, you put the cover over your sweet bounty and pass it to Callum to take home while you wash your hands. As you dry your hands you notice a piece of cake set aside on the counter.

"Hey Chef?" You point to the lone dessert, "Why's that one sitting out?"

They peek out from the pantry where they were taking inventory, looking sheepish. "Oh, uh, don't worry about it. It probably just got left behind."

You nod, unsure as to why they seemed a little flustered by the question, but you're more worried about making sure Callum doesn't eat your half of the cake so you leave it be and dash back to your dorm.

___________________________

"Hmmm, I don't know if this one counts as a win."

"Pretty sure it does."

The Grand Enchanter takes another bite of cake while he thinks.

"Are you sure? They got all the way into the kitchen this time."

"And I still caught them before they even touched one of the cakes! It counts!"

He chuckles and pulls out a worn journal, making another tally in the margins, "Sure, sure. Careful though, Lazuli, I think they're getting craftier by the day."

They step over to the ostentatious desk and lean against it, right next to the high and mighty Grand Enchanter himself. The title doesn't seem to suit the man they see before them right now, though. Leaned back in his chair, collar loosened and a small smile of contentment on his lips as he eats. They reach over and wipe away a smudge of berry compote from the corner of his lips.

"You and I both know that'll be more of a problem for you than me, Damien."

Maybe one day he'll tell them what's going on with those two students. They know there's something sinister about the situation, and they know he's caught up in it. Maybe it'll take a while for him to say something, but they've got plenty of time to wait. Until then, there'll always be a plate left behind.

[tvrningout-a]

IMAGES OF HISAKAWA CHIYOKO

" i am slowly learning how to just be in this moment. how to exist. how to understand that i cannot control life, that i can only experience it in both its light and its dark stages. i am slowly learning how to laugh and cry and feel through it all, how to welcome the confusion and the joy that come with loving and living and breaking. i am slowly learning how to accept where i am. i am slowly learning how to simply believe in the person i am becoming. ”

pg. 6/∞

[poprockpanda]

∞

No perception of time or space or distance or weight. And I think I'm going insane

Bugbear by chloe moriondo

[bittydragon]

😈

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

Well of course! I've done this intentionally and unintentionally. Done it plenty intentionally, but I didn't actually mean to freak people out with the title of Splatters. Apparently a lot of people were terrified until they read it because of the title, got a lot of messages about that one. Very funny though

[gelus-ugs]

Can you do all hashiras when they accidently touch reader's breast?

The Hashira when they accidentally touch your breast

———————————————————————

This was definitely a fun one to write! Thanks for the request ☺️🙏🏾

———————————————————————

Gyomei Himejima

Since he can’t see, Gyomei has no idea what he touched

He assumed it was your shoulder or something, but the more he thought about it, the more it didn’t seem to add up

Shoulders aren’t soft and squishy…right?

As he’s thinking, he doesn’t realize that his hand is still there

“Um, Gyomei..do you mind getting your hand off my chest?”

“Oh, of course. Sorry, [Y/n]”

Wait..did you say chest?

Gyomei froze and his face quickly turned red

He quickly bows in your direction

“I’m so sorry for touching you in such a private area”

“It’s okay, Gyomei. It’s not like you meant to”

He still feels terrible about it 😭

Sanemi Shinazugawa

You two were sparring when you moved to the side to dodge a punch to your chest

But you didn’t move in time and he ended up bumping his hand into your breast

He retracts his hand so fast

He mutters a ‘sorry’ before just…walking away 💀

He doesn’t look at you to hide his face, which is beet red

He avoids eye contact with you for a while because he feels really bad and embarrassed

Obanai Iguro

He meant to grab Kaburamaru from around your neck, but the snake moved at the last minute and it resulted in Obanai touching your chest

He freezes for a split second before quickly snatching Kaburamaru and walking away

He felt embarrassed and really bad since he violated you

He sends you some sort of gift with a note apologizing

He’s too embarrassed to talk to you for a while

Mitsuri Kanroji

She was helping you into your new slayer uniform, buttoning your top while making small talk with you

You had decided to change your uniform due to it being uncomfortable and difficult for you to fight in

Mid-sentence, Mitsuri’s hand accidentally slipped from the button and knocked into your chest

She immediately retracted her hands and began to bow over and over again while profusely apologizing

You found the situation pretty funny and assured her it was okay between laughs

She felt really guilty, but was glad that you weren’t offended or mad at her

You both just laughed it off and agreed to let you do the rest of the buttoning

Kyōjurō Rengoku

You were listening to Rengoku tell a story as you took a walk together

I feel like he’s the type of person to use his hands when he talks

So he was just talking with his hands when he accidentally swung his hand into your chest

He immediately stops talking and gets on all fours to bow and apologize

You reassure him that it’s okay and that it was just an accident, but he keeps going on about how he violated and disrespected you

You will literally have to peel him off the ground and continuously assure him that you didn’t mind since it was just an accident

You two eventually just laugh it off before Rengoku continues his story - this time without using his hands

Muichiro Tokito

He was trying to point to something beside him, but he didn’t realize how close you were and accidentally knocked his hand into your chest

It takes him ten business days to react 💀

He just pauses and stares at his hand before letting it just fall to his side

He doesn’t even say anything

He just walks away as if nothing happened

He’ll remember a week later and find you just to apologize - not even specifying for what

Shinobu Kocho

She was treating a wound on your abdomen and accidentally bumped her hand into your chest

She apologized, but continued to tend to your wound nonetheless

You were probably in too much pain to notice/care 😂🤷🏾‍♂️

Tengen Uzui

You two were at some sort of festival when Tengen saw a necklace and picked it up

“[Y/n], I think this would go well with-”

Necklace in hand, he began to turn to face you as he spoke

He didn’t realize that you were literally right beside him, so he ended up knocking his hands into your chest

“Oh, I didn’t realize how close you were to me, I’m sorry. That wasn’t very flashy, I hope the girls are okay”

He attempts to joke about it to make the situation less awkward

You both just laugh it off and continue having fun at the festival

Giyu Tomioka

Him and Shinobu were in some petty fist fight

You stepped in between them to break up the fight, catching Giyu mid-punch

You moved back to dodge the punch, but Giyu managed to brush his hand against your chest

He quickly retracted his hand, looking at it as if it were some sort of foreign object

“Well, that wasn’t very nice, Tomioka”

Shinobu commented, attempting to tick him off

“Sorry, [Y/n]”

He apologized before walking off, still weirdly looking at his hand 💀

[merlucide]

INSECURITIES THEY FIND ATTRACTIVE

notes: lmao I was bored, NOT proofread so ik it’s kinda wonky lmao

wc: about 200 each

warnings: cursing

!! all of these “insecurities” are beautiful and unique! I’m just using some common insecurities, just bc they are listed doesn’t mean you should be insecure! You are perfect they way you are <3 !!

SMALL BOOBS

He loves your boobs. They are just so cute! He doesn’t care about the size of them, beside’s smaller the chest, bigger the heart! He thinks they’re just the right size, he can perfectly hold them so that’s a plus! He’ll still take a nap on them, boobs are boobs, no matter the size.

NAGI, RIN, OTOYA, sendou, chigiri, ness, niko, reo

STRETCH MARKS

Pls he thinks it’s the most sexy thing ever. He’ll trace the lines up and down with his index finger, telling you how cool your marks are. It truly baffles him that you don’t like your stretch marks.  He thinks they make you look badass, like a lightning scar. 

SHIDOU, BACHIRA, OLIVER, KARASU, REO, yukimiya, barou

THICK THIGHS

The gravitational pull couldn’t keep him away from your thighs. His head nuzzled into the soft flesh, while his hands rub and squish them. After a long day, or really whenever he feels like it, he’ll plop his head down on your thighs and falls right asleep. 

ISAGI, RIN, NESS, reo, nagi, otoya, barou

Bunny/buck teeth

Omg he literally cannot function- he’ll just stare at your mouth while you talk with a big ol’ grin on. He just thinks it’s so cute! Or whenever you’re concentrating and your teeth poke out, he think his heart just might burst. If he ever catches you talking down about yourself he’ll just have to show you how much he loves them with a kiss.

BACHIRA, KURONA, NESS, YUKIMIYA, charles, 

PUDGE

Pls he literally thinks it the best. You’re just so soft and squishy! You’re his personal teddy bear! His favorite part of you is your tummy. The butterflies he gets from looking at is it is crazy. He loves resting his head on your tummy while your pet his head. He loves it when you were tighter clothing so he can see your cute little pudge. 

REO, SENDOU, SHIDOU, KURONA, bachira, nagi, barou, ness

BEING SKINNY

He thinks it’s so funny how loose his clothes fit on you. He thinks your body is so pretty and delicate. he likes hold slender hands and kiss them. He loves the feeling of holding your hands in his. He goes around smuggly telling people he’s dating a supermodel. It’s not good to lie buuut, you totally could be a model 🤭

CHIGIRI, KAISER, hiori, otoya, rin, sae, ness

THIN THIGHS

He thinks they are just the perfect! He thinks it’s cute how big his pants are on you, since his thighs are humongous. He likes to have you sit on the bed while he sits on the floor between your thighs. His cheek will be squished against you, as you combs through his hair. It’s one of his favorite things. 

ISAGI, CHIGIRI, OTOYA, SENDOU, kurona, hiori, karasu, ness, kaiser, sae 

MUSCLES

…he really wants to be dominated by you. Like manhandle, please, he is practically begging you. He thinks your muscles are so fucking hot. Seriously, he thinks it’s the sexiest thing about you, it makes him feel all sweaty and nervous watching you flex your muscles.

KARASU, HIORI, SHIDOU, NESS, reo, 

FRECKLES / BEAUTY MARKS

You cannot and will not stop him from kissing every mole you have. He thinks they make you unique, he loves connecting each birth mark to one another like constellations. He’ll give your “constellations” dumb names too and create a whole story for them. He loves kissing all of your freckles<3

OLIVER, KURONA, BACHIRA, NESS, SHIDOU, isagi, barou, karasu, (sae too but less cute cus yk, it’s sae)

pls reblog/comment! Luv to hear what y’all think! And remember you are a sexy and gorgeous, don’t forget pooks<3

Made April 18th 2024

[zhongrin]

zhongrin © 2024 ❥ do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or feed into ai.

tail of a dragon.

featuring... ❥ zhongli

involves... ❥ minors dni, gn!reader, dragon!li, fluff, crack, monsterfucking(?), cannibalism innuendos(??), rambles/headcanon -> short drabble format

at first, i thought zhongli's echo doesn't show up when it's raining (i was in the middle of fighting the oceanid boss). and it made me think; what if his dragon side absolutely abhor rainwater? he's still always a gentleman, of course ー giving you his coat to use as an umbrella upon unexpected downpours; but it's funny to think that inwardly he's just silently screeching something along the line of "curse the rainwater in my shoes curse the rainwater in my hair this does not bring joy at all" within the confines of his lizard brain. he will most definitely make excuses of being cold from the rain and insists on bathing together afterward, too. you may think he's trying to seduce you, but in reality, this old dragon just wants the icky cold rainwater out of his hair.

and then, i noticed that i was wrong ー it gets hidden when any sort of combat happens (i'm not sure if this is an iOS-only decision to conserve resources so that processing power for particle effects can be allocated to the fight's particle effects, or if it's a design decision because they don't want it to interfere with the battle experience).

and i've decided i shall think of it as a zhongli equivalent of men cracking their neck before they get serious. it's not exactly his real tail, after all - he's consciously controlling it, all because you wished he would show his draconic features more often, but he can't really have his horns or tail out in public. hence its disappearance whenever he has to focus that consciousness into something else.

this also means the shiny golden apparition would be nowhere to be found whenever he's intent on pleasuring you... but, perhaps if you rile him enough, you'll be subjected to a very solid dragon's tail, as majestic and mesmerizing as it is deadly, wrapped around your waist as he devours his favorite meal and milk your pleasure until you're all loose for his cocks to sink into the soaked depths of your needy heat.

even though your husband might seem to be all in control and composed, all gentle smiles and the occasional mischief-filled smirks, his tail is another story entirely - the man may not know of the phrase 'cuteness aggression', but he may as well be the personification of it. his mind constantly think about how adorable you are, soft and squishy and mouthwateringly delectable, constantly warring with his own mind over wanting to sink his teeth and nibble your pliant flesh. it lashes, it slithers, it squeezes, and it's unashamedly honest in its unrestrained movements, reflective of his desires in its rawest form. it'll make sure its hard scales imprints on your skin - a unique mark to accompany the mating bite he'll generously lap and suckle on. you're akin to a sweet treat he wants to lick and nip and scratch and devour. lucky for you, his patience and self-control has been tempered and honed for more than six thousand years.

and if your mind decides to conjure any sinful fantasies involving that extra appendage of his, why not tell him? who knows, perhaps you'll arouse a certain part of his draconic brain. your husband is a good listener, but he's also an achiever, after all.