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There's something about sucking a knight's fingers after they've been relieved of their gauntlets and gloves. The taste of sweat and leather and steel between their bloodied knuckles is incomparable. Seeing the heat in their eyes as your tongue dances over their skin, teeth testing against their nails.
They may wield the sword, but your mouth can disarm them as quickly as any strike.
Touch
A/N: So I said I wouldn’t write for a while, yeah? Well, surprise I lied! Or.. I was set on it when I said it but then I had this tiny glimpse of inspiration because Dylan O’brien’s hands and I managed to squeeze something out. So here ya go.
There is something inherently beautiful about Stiles hands: how they never ever seem to stay still. Long slender fingers in constant movement- twirling a pencil, drumming on a desk or a denim clad thigh, mussing that always tousled brown hair, tugging at the strands there, especially when he’s frustrated. He never bites on his nails but when in deep concentration he sometimes put a few in his mouth, pressing down on his lip or bottom teeth. Pressing, tugging, twirling, always in motion.
There are few hairs on his hands but they are soft looking and do nothing to take away attention from the smoothness of his fair skin. It almost seem unfair- a boy in his late teenage years with the skin of someone much younger still.
The other day he seemed more anxious than usual, his gaze flickered all around even with his friends struggling for his attention.
I think he might’ve forgotten his medication.
He had brought a pair of drumsticks to school on that day and he carried them with him everywhere: in class, the corridor, even to the field; constantly drumming against his thighs, creating a smatter of ta-ta-ta-ta. I imagine the skin beneath the fabric are a shade of red turning blue.
He’s caught me looking a few times, though I doubt he’s been able to comprehend at exactly what he’s caught me looking at. To flush red so easily is truly a curse.
Daydreams are not something new. In fact it is what most of my days are made up of; from morning to night it is nothing but deep doe eyes, shaggy brown hair, lips painted in a cheeky grin and always soft pale fingers. Stroking, petting, caressing, tugging, scratching, grabbing, holding, touching.
Sometimes- sometimes he plays with his bottom lip; alternating between tugging on it with his lips and fingers until it’s a swollen full shade of deep velvet pink. I can never decide which I’d rather taste.
Does Misha's hand make you feel some sort of way?
YES
Ask me a ‘yes or no’ question
hi! could you maybe please do destiel, with some dean hand!kink? i have a serious thing for his hands that words cannot adequately describe =) thanks bb!! =)
Castiel watched Dean at most times. Whether he was present or not, visible or not, his eyes were on Dean.
More often, his eyes were on Dean’s hands. He’d watch him slide a cloth up the barrel of his gun or slick his car up with oil, smudges always smearing across his arms and cheeks.
He watched Dean chop vegetables and fight, fists curling in and tendons tensing as he drove his unmatched strength into his opponent.
He blinked just once, when Dean’s hand reached out and curved around his jaw, Dean’s thumb pressed into his lips. He only closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into the calloused touch, reveling in the softness of his palm.
When he opened his eyes again, Dean was too close, his other hand snaking around Castiel’s waist to drag him forward. Cas’ lips, of their own accord, slipped over the tip of Dean’s thumb and with the quiet grunt, the way Dean’s fingers slid up his shirt and pinched his skin, he could feel Dean’s eyes heavy on him.
He knew that Dean was watching him.
"Your mouth,” Dean murmured, and Cas pulled Dean’s thumb further between his lips, tongue tentatively pressing against the pad of it. He could laugh, but instead, he smiled.
Because he realized - Dean had always been watching him.
I have a superb mild obsession with Castiel's hands
i blame misha collins for my hand kink
i am just now following a hand fetish blog
where have you been all my life???
