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So I love the image of a tiny lady on a man’s chest; sitting, reclining, lying down, just relaxing. They might each be doing their own thing, or he could be holding up a book or his phone so they can both share some leisurely activity. There are lots of great images out there with some take on that general idea - you could say it’s a bit of a classic scene.
As someone who sympathises with the tiny’s perspective, I like to think about the other sensory experience of being on a giant’s chest - the magnified texture of his shirt or skin, the whisper-roaring sound of his breath, the bassline rhythm of his heartbeat…other such wonderous things a tiny might pick up in such intimacy.
I like to daydream on my personal favourite: the sculpted mounds of a man’s pectorals. A tiny running her little hands over her surroundings, feeling and admiring their firmness. It’s a weird juxtaposing consistency of a soft solid and a solid softness, a muscle flexed but not tense. If the giant is feeling a bit cheeky, he’d press her into him, make sure she gets a more holistic experience of him; his finger on her back, holding her down, her entire body smushed into just a miniscule patch of his skin in comparison. She might squirm in a panic (or pretend to be in one) but he won’t budge, enjoying the feeling of her helplessness far too much to let the opportunity go.
It could go a few different ways from there, but I just wanted to focus on that initial contact. Also just wanted to send some appreciation to men’s chests : )