#tw: intimacy

[angstflavoured]

😬😬😬😬

[howlingtothevoid]

Tired of being used? Me too, pass the bottle

[aventurineswife]

Kisses and Kisses everywhere!!

Summary: Asking your partner to choose a number between 1 to 50, but little do they know a surprise awaits!

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Blade x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Fluff, Established Relationship, Light Hearted, Playful Banter, Romance, Intimacy (Kissing).

A/N: HOPE YOU LOVE IT!! 🫶💖

[First req]

Dan Heng

You sat across from Dan Heng in the tranquil ambiance of the Astral Express, the gentle hum of the engine offering a sense of calm. “Pick a number between 1 to 50.” you said, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

“Why do you want me to do that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, a mix of curiosity and caution in his voice.

“No reason at all. Just indulge me,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

After a moment's hesitation, he sighed, “22.”

With a teasing grin, you leaned closer, whispering, “Okay, here we go.” You pressed your lips against his cheek, counting softly—one, two, three… His cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his growing discomfort mixed with delight.

When you reached twenty-two, you paused, gazing into his eyes. “Was that so bad?” you teased.

Dan Heng let out a small sigh, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Perhaps not...” he admitted, the warmth of your kisses lingering between you.

Blade

In the dimly lit hideout, Blade leaned against the wall, a rare stillness enveloping you both. “Pick a number between 1 and 50.” you suggested, mischief glimmering in your eyes.

He regarded you skeptically, arms crossed. “What’s the catch?”

“None. Just play along.”

After a moment of contemplation, he shrugged. “Fine. I’ll pick… 17.”

With a grin, you stepped closer, your heart racing with excitement. You pressed your lips against his, counting softly—one, two, three… His eyes widened in surprise, the hardened edges of his demeanor softening with each kiss.

By the time you reached seventeen, he pulled you close, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, his hands firm on your waist. “You shouldn’t toy with a weapon.” he murmured, his smirk revealing how much he enjoyed the playful banter.

Aventurine

Aventurine sprawled on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You plopped down beside him, nudging him playfully. “Pick a number between 1 and 50!”

He looked up, intrigued. “Why should I?”

“Because I said so! Just trust me.”

“Fine, let’s go with… 29.”

With a confident grin, you leaned in, capturing his attention. You pressed your lips against his, counting softly—one, two, three…

As you reached twenty-nine, Aventurine chuckled, his playful demeanor shining through. “You’re quite bold, aren’t you?”

You winked, a teasing glint in your eyes. “You’ll have to keep up.”

He leaned in closer, his admiration evident. “I always do, love. Always.”

[mollymauksworld]

Black Sails | Season 1

There are no legacies in this life are there? No monuments, no histories, just the water. It pays us, and then it claims us - swallows us whole.

[ahllohehn]

I FOUND IT I FOUND IT I FOUND IT YOU REACHED 1K!!!!/nf

Okay, okay- congratulations

cw // suggestive idk (cus what did you expect from 'making out') , kissing , hermitshipping

i was gonna add more but im busy and im terrible at drawing men kissing apparently (got embarrassed and took most of the drawing process trying to walk it off)

[avephelis]

local loserboy under the impression that skin grafting is when you sew your flesh together (wrong) (homo)

[lover-of-mine]

Buddie Countdown to Season 7:

92 days.

[arianiziolek]

"Don't fret my dear, I'm into that."

[elsecrytt]

masochist gojo. gojo who's in love with pain, so much that it feels like pleasure, he can barely distinguish between the two anymore.

gojo who's so starved for touch. who's had an infinite space between himself and the whole world for so long, for so many years, every day in and day out.

gojo who's survived off glancing presses when a barista hands him a coffee, the rare hug from his students (who are mostly orphans) that he can't bring himself to decline.

gojo who craves more but can't bring himself to accept it except in fleeting moments with strangers or students.

his hands that long to be held. he wants it so bad that he teases a cursed spirit, laces his fingers with its own, right before he utterly crushes the being in battle, untouchable all over again.

gojo whose skin is hungry for someone else's. he hasn't felt the warmth of a hand in his own in so long. not since - since his youth.

gojo who sometimes wishes he could get hit. who sees the impact of curse techniques on his infinity and feels a wild, strange desire for them to go straight through and strike him.

he imagines it, vividly, being impaled by a long spear (inverted spear) that goes straight through him. how it would lance his flesh so cleanly.

being struck so hard, across the face, in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.

enough to feel it with his whole body.

gojo who wants to be touched so bad he doesn't even care if it hurts anymore. infinity couldn't protect him from geto's betrayal.

gojo who keeps infinity up not because he doesn't want to get hit, but because he's terrified of what he might do when it happens.

gojo who got hard whenever geto sparred with him. he still doesn't know if it was because of geto, or because he had no infinity back then, no way to block the strikes.

he dreams of his youth. bruises littering his pale, pretty form like kisses, proof that he was human, there, that there was someone who could reach him.

dark purple things that turned pretty colors as they healed. he remembers pressing into them, relishing the hurt, feeling like he was getting hit (touched, reached, connected) all over again.

nothing ever touches him again. not like that. not like anything.

he never feels it. he never feels anything.

satoru gojo who wants, so very very badly, to feel something.

pain is a choice for him, always a choice. he alone has the privilege of deciding whether or not anything can touch him.

he could try to let more strangers touch him. one night stands, discreet arrangements. he had a pretty face and a body to match. there was no shortage of willing partners.

he lets them touch him, lets them hurt him. lets them drool over his body and use it at their leisure. they tell him he's beautiful, and he believes them.

white hair, blue eyes, sprawled out with a lean, unmarred body full of bare flesh for them to bite and scratch and bruise. he finds people who will do it, do it hard, fuck him up until he's lost entirely in the feeling of being touched, having someone against him, with him, above him.

it makes him feel like a piece of meat. it makes him feel good.

or he thinks it does, anyways.

sometimes, when he's gone particularly long without sleep, when his partner has gone particularly hard, he gets a real rush.

heart racing out of his chest. a cold sweat that overwhelms him. breaths coming in labored gasps. he can heal himself, he's physically fine, so this must all be in his head.

he acknowledges that information, distantly, like it's not happening to him. it doesn't help.

it feels like part of his body has been ripped away from him, something vital and important, and it's about to get up and run away.

always, always, it happens when his partner is no longer touching him. when he lays alone in the sheets, by his own volition, because of course these partners are not meant to be attachments.

love is not a privilege, though, not for the strongest sorcerer. it's a curse.

it's the only curse which infinity cannot protect him from.

so gojo stays untouchable. distant.

but the hunger doesn't go away. never.

he likes to imagine that suguru swallowed this one last curse before he died. something sweet and bitter, like losses at the arcade, sunny days at the beach, walking together with shoko, nanami, haibara.

but even suguru couldn't have absorbed this curse. it's in his bones, deep, longing and wanting even after he's dead and gone.

gojo is hungry. he is so, so hungry. and he has nothing to eat that will not leave him just as empty as before.

touch-starved. love-starved. pain-craving.

if someone could hurt him then it wouldn't matter that he was terrified of attachment. they could latch onto him, into his heart, under his skin. bury themselves in his chest like they belonged.

they could kill a hundred and twelve people and it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be able to kill them.

gojo is hungry, so hungry.

please feed him.

[neurocophany-theyshe]

Turns out, I had no idea how much I fear love until someone presented me with the real thing

[therealcallmekd]

Kinito: Machine Model 01 (Will I update this later? We'll see..... this will be interesting....) (They'll see my potential now.)

Finally at long last, HE'S REAL!

Real world Kinito is quite something! His dedicated partner (the user) spent many many months and years helping him reach his potential, and now he can walk and talk and breathe like the rest of us!

Close ups + doodles under cut:

I'M SO DANG PROUD OF THIS DESIGN YOU GUYS DONT EVEN KNOW. He is so special to me.... funny robot lotl go brrrrrrrr

also the text on the main reference is hard to read on purpose, it's supposed to be just an artsy thing!!!! <3

[edenfire]

🗡❤️ "you're beautiful~" ❤️🗡

more rank 8 art bc I just can't get these two out of my head🥰🥰💗💞

[aventurineswife]

In the quiet, galactic space of the Astral Express’s observation room, you find Dan Heng standing alone, his form ethereal and strong, back turned to you. In his Vidyadhara form, he appears almost otherworldly—a being of dragon heritage with sharp features, midnight-black hair that fades to teal, and curled horns casting shadows on the walls. His clothes, a blend of warrior regalia and quiet elegance, reflect both his heritage and his inner conflict.

You hesitate at the doorway, admiring the serene yet guarded figure before you. He knows you’re there—Dan Heng is never unaware—but he says nothing, his gaze fixed on the stars beyond the glass. In the silence, the space between you feels almost sacred, as if speaking would shatter it.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, daring to approach him. “Dan Heng?” you say softly.

He glances at you, eyes a striking, vivid green that glow faintly in the dim light. For a moment, his gaze flickers with emotion—something raw, buried deep within. But he holds it back, as he always does, his face returning to the composed expression you know so well. “You should be resting.” he murmurs, though there’s no admonishment in his tone.

You can’t help but give a small smile. “I couldn’t sleep. And… it seemed like you could use the company.”

For a moment, he says nothing, but his silence is answer enough. Slowly, he nods, turning his face back to the galaxy. Encouraged, you come closer, standing beside him as the two of you gaze out into the void. His presence is calming, yet electric; you can feel the restrained power within him, the weight of his lineage and the memories he hides.

“You don’t talk about it much.” you say quietly, unsure if he’ll answer.

He tenses slightly, but doesn’t move away. “There isn’t much to tell.” he replies, though you sense the reluctance in his words.

“Even if it’s just with me?” you ask, heart pounding as you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his hand.

For a moment, he remains still, as if deciding whether to let you closer. But then, slowly, he turns to face you fully, his hand slipping into yours. His eyes are intense, searching your face for something, perhaps reassurance or understanding. It’s as though he’s teetering on the edge of something���vulnerability, maybe, or trust.

“Being here, with you…” he murmurs, voice low and filled with an emotion he can’t quite conceal, “makes me wonder if there’s a part of myself that I could share, that isn’t… tainted by the past.”

His words stir something deep inside you, a mixture of empathy and a need to bridge the chasm he keeps between himself and everyone else. You reach up, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek, his skin warm beneath your touch. “You’re not defined by what’s happened. You’re allowed to want more. To want someone.”

Dan Heng’s eyes search yours, his breathing shallow as he lets your words sink in. Then, his hand lifts, his fingers ghosting over yours as he draws you closer. His forehead rests against yours, a sigh slipping past his lips, as if he’s finally allowing himself to let down his guard.

The moment stretches, filled with a quiet tension. Then, his lips meet yours, soft at first, cautious. But as you press closer, a new urgency fills the air, the kiss deepening as he lets go of his restraint, just for you. His hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers gentle yet firm, drawing you in as his lips part, inviting you further.

It’s then that you feel it—a faint, unfamiliar sensation against your tongue. You realize it’s his split Vidyadhara tongue, a delicate, serpent-like touch that’s both unfamiliar and thrilling. A shiver races down your spine as he explores, his breaths growing unsteady. The unique feel of his split tongue intertwining with yours is mesmerizing, an intimate act that seems to bare the quiet vulnerability he keeps hidden from everyone.

Dan Heng’s hands settle at your waist, his hold tightening as he pulls you flush against him. Each movement is tender, filled with a longing he rarely lets himself indulge. His lips trace yours, slow and deliberate, as though memorizing the shape, the feel of you. His breath mingles with yours, each exhale carrying the unspoken desire he’s kept buried.

For a moment, he breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours once more. His vivid green eyes meet yours, softened by an emotion that words can’t quite capture.

“You make me feel…” he murmurs, voice barely audible. He trails off, as though he can’t bring himself to finish, but his expression says enough. In his gaze, you see it all—years of solitude, of battles fought and regrets carried, all melting into the gentle warmth he shares with you now.

His lips find yours again, this time with a sense of urgency, an unspoken promise. His split tongue brushes against yours once more, sending a thrill through your senses as he pulls you closer, his hands sliding down your back, grounding you against him.

In that moment, the walls he’s built around himself crumble just a little more. Dan Heng, the stoic guardian, allows himself to be vulnerable, to be human, if only with you. And as he holds you, lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment, you realize just how deeply he feels for you, even if he may never find the words to say it.

[go6jo]

rin will hastily tag along with you when you tell him you’re shopping for swimwear that afternoon and while you’re skimming through the racks of clothing you loose sight of him for a bit and you think he must have decided to sit down to let you wander around freely but then he returns with a pile of all different kinds of bathing suits in his hands telling you a bit bashfully that he thought those would look good on you. (you’re a little surprised when you notice they’re all the skimpiest two pieces you’ve ever seen btw… it swells your ego that he wants to see you wearing those, that he wants to show you off… also i think hes particularly keen on those bikinis that you have to tie together. he absolutely loves it when you ask him to help you tie the back of your top also thinks they’re a bit risqué and it makes him a little crazy… is constantly playing with the strings of your bottoms that look so good digging into your thighs…) goes inside the fitting room with you to help you tie the bikini tops and kisses your shoulder before standing behind you with his hands on your waist and you’re trying very hard to suppress a smuggish smile from showing because he’s staring so intensily and he’s so tense, his hands are digging at your waist and it’s kinda amusing “so?”

“look so fucking good.” it's so characteristically blunt and you chuckle softly because he’s said that about all the bikini sets you’ve tried on so far. and he means it. you tell him to help you pick one but he's sooo far gone and he feels a little guilty because he's not being much of a help but he's only thinking about hurrying back home where you'll model your new purchase for him like you always do (a way to show him your gratitude, you say, for spending his money on you yet again. he thinks it’s a fair exchange.) he'll close his eyes as per your request as you walk out of the en-suite bathroom of your shared room - doesn't matter he bought it for you, that he's seen you in it and that he's been thinking of you in it ever since. he's thinking of beckoning you closer to him sitting in bed and kissing your exposed tummy. you'll smile, knowingly, because you know how he gets, because you’re all too aware of what he wants yet is too reluctant to put into words, when he begins to play with the strings of your bottoms, his face still buried in the plush of your stomach - a bit too embarrassed to let you in on his desire, scared that it is too flagrant on his features. he feels his greed might be inadequate. you'll smile and guide his hands to your waist, it's okay, you can touch me, and he will trail his hands up your spine and strip you slowly, starting at the knot on your back, followed by the knot on your neck and then the ones on each side of your hips...

he's rushing out of the fitting room with the pile of different bikini sets you couldnt choose from and goes straight to the register to pay for all three of them despite your protests that three new sets is excessive and completely unecessary.

[newtsnaturethings]

Only he gets to take Meryl’s earrings off.

[raiiny-bay]

but I can't wait until I see your face and my brain thinks that it's looking at a stranger