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#hand kisses
cheesit-notes · 7 months
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Simon Riley + Hand Kisses
tags: kissing obviously, ptsd for simon basically, gn!reader, overthinking simon, simon getting violent at one point, a/n: sorry i was gone for a week! i want to say i worked on stuff but ive been busy with things and this was the only thing i did. im not all that happy with the time to result ratio of this tbh but i love the idea of Simonand hand kisses so enjoy!
Ghost who cannot stand any and all kinds of intimate touches. he doesn’t like intimate touches. no, actually, he loathes those touches. it reminds him of a time he’d really rather forget. there’s no way to really kiss him without having to slowly practice. underneath the mask, he’s nothing more than the emotionally scarred, vulnerable Simon Riley who went through far too much for any human.
the first time both of you technically kissed, you had asked if you could kiss him, he said yes because you looked like you wanted it so badly. the two of you stood awkwardly in his barracks. he’s wondering if he should’ve changed clothes earlier, he just got back and was still in his uniform, probably smelled fowl, but you didn’t say a word. ah, he thought he could handle it. he really did. but to kiss was a lot easier said than done. and he’ll never fully forgive himself for shoving you away slamming you against the wall, and he was choking you. he didn’t actually hit you, you tell him that everyday, but the fact he fully intended to hit you for the moment scared him. plagued with the thought that he truly was no different from his father; he could barely look at you for the weeks following that, much less talk to you. no, he refused to do so much as to stand near you; petrified he wouldn’t snap out of it in time, terrified he’d hurt you.
months later, he asked if it’s alright to try again. the kissing thing, you know? it was months after the previous attempt, you and Simon had already reconciled, as much as possible anyways, so the question left you a little confused. you were happy to, but only if he was really ready. and he said he was, he swore it. although.. looking at you, thinking back about the previous attempt, made him anxious. but he already said he would. so he should? he should stick to his words, right? youd probably think hes a coward. god, a man shouldnt be a coward. and he cant be a coward. and all these thoughts ran through his mind. he doesnt realize he’s zoned out and that you’re staring at him with a concerned look on your face. its not until you decide to speak does he snap back.
“are you sure you want to do this?”
he’s not even sure what to respond. what did he want?  he’s only really thought about what you wanted. it’s not like his wants really mattered in his eyes.
“you know, we don’t have to do this. we can still have a perfectly fine relationship without–”
“no! absolutely, no, we.. we have to kiss.”
he insisted, almost yelling like he’s afraid he wouldn’t be heard. and that you’d leave him because you’d think he couldn’t kiss you, because he couldn't give you of a normal relationship. and you deserved it. you deserved a normal relationship with someone who could give you what you wanted. and god, he wishes he were normal.
anyone could tell he was agitated. honestly, it isn’t easy for you. you could tell he wouldn’t handle it well if you kissed him directly. but if you didn’t then he’d isolate himself, thoughts spiralling like a roller coaster in his mind, and you couldn’t be sure when or where the ride ended. so, grab his hands, hold them in yours, and plant a gentle kiss on each. you hold his hands, looking into his eyes, and for what felt like hours, the two of you stayed put like that. until Simon told you to leave.
it caught you off guard, you’re a little taken back. but respecting his wishes, you leave the room. not even a minute after you leave, Simon slumps against the wall, he can’t stop the hot, burning tears from falling. maybe it was how soft your lips felt against his caloused hands or how careful you were with him, how you knew that he likely wouldn’t react well to either choice and yet you made the perfect one.
Simon Riley who sometimes holds your hand, silently hoping you’d kiss his hand again. he likes it when you give each knuckle a peck. if you bent down on one knee, you’d look like a knight kissing the princess’ hand, and Johnny would say this whenever he saw the chance. Simon Riley who still isn’t ready to kiss you directly, but he’s slowly working on it. Simon Riley who will probably learn to like different types of kisses, but right now, he's smitten over you and your hand kisses that make him feel oh so loved.
next time he holds your hand, give him a kiss, will you?
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miwachan2 · 1 year
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i drew both haaa uwu
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bones-of-a-rabbit · 2 years
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Sun and Moon may or may not have a paranoid/jealous streak in them in the Afton AU,, but it’s ok, Reader thinks they’re just clingy and sweet <3
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zolwia · 1 year
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I just want to draw bittersweet Georgian sapphic art 🥺💖
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kimgkoi · 7 months
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hand kisses :D
finally drew Akito smiling once in my life lol
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desolatebee · 1 year
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andrew kisses neil’s hands religiously—
in the mornings it’s fingertip kisses.
when neil traces andrew’s facial features like they’re something sacred, and andrew can’t do much but purse his lips to see neil smile.
in the the afternoon it’s top of the hand kisses.
when they’ve just gotten back to the house after a day of errands, andrew will lift their interlocked hands and place a kiss gently over neil’s knuckles.
in the night it’s palm kisses.
when they’ve gotten back to bed and neil is holding andrew’s face in his hands, rubbing a thumb under andrew’s eye, andrew will turn his face and bring a hand up to push neil’s palm into his lips.
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crepe-of-wrath · 2 years
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Very Silly Wish Fulfillment with Alucard (Again)
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Notes: Work contains explicit material, but more foreplay/build-up as opposed to direct smut
***
You'd lost track of how many times Alucard asked you if you were sure you truly were ready for him to come to you when he was in that sort of state. He didn't want to hurt you, he explained, and sometimes he did not have full control when he came back to the Manor still keyed-up from his work, with his senses heightened, once again reminded of how powerful and fundamentally horrifying he was.
But you had insisted.
Even still, he'd asked you again, just before he left, and you'd pulled him close, whispering, "If you don't, I fear I shall combust. Please, Alucard." His breath had gotten heavy for a second or two when you begged and clasped his arm as hard as you could.
He had said nothing, merely bowing as he took your leave.
You knew Alucard would be gone for hours and you genuinely tried to distract yourself with rote tasks, but it was pointless. Less than an hour after he left, you were in your room trying on every combination of makeup you owned, making sample cards of your perfumes, and discarding various silken things.
For the longest time, you were debating between your makeup in pinks and corals and between nighties in gentle colors like mauve and gold and mossy green, but it did not feel right. Tonight was to be about unbridled lust. Bloodlust. There was only one option.
It was the simplest silk nightie you owned, without a single bit of ornament. But true royal Tyrian purple, the color of goddesses and empresses, needed no ornamentation. All it needed was a swipe of your deepest red lipstick and a spritz or two of your most alluring perfume: smoky, resinous, and with a hint of indolic jasmine. You went into your bedroom and laid down on the bed, which was dressed in black silk. You looked at yourself in the mirror: in the candlelight, you looked like you were wearing molten blood.
You were ready for the king to take what was his.
The wait was agony. Every time you closed your eyes because you ached so badly in your core, your mind conjured up images of what he would look like, how his his huge frame would fill up the doorway, how his ebony hair would be long and vital, how his skin would positively glisten in the nighttime. Would he still have the jacket, or would he have already thrown it aside in his haste? Would his tie be loosened, his shirt unbuttoned...his sleeves rolled up? What filthy things would he command you do to with that voice of his?
You were a soaking mess, overstimulated and aroused, writhing on the mattress, pressing your thighs together so that you would not come until Alucard was there to make you beg and worship and scream.
Just as your started to fear he would not come, you heard something in the hall: footsteps, heavy and real. The realization that you would soon be devoured by Alucard's lust came so close to sending you over the edge that you bit down on your finger.
It bled. Just a little, but it bled.
A growling laugh rang through the hallway, and you swore you heard gasps and other doors in the hall shutting quickly. Alucard appeared in your room like magic.
When you looked into his eyes, your desire shrank in the face of your terror. In a mere moment, you now genuinely understood what he was and what you had gotten yourself into. The very atmosphere of the room seemed bent to his superhuman will. Reddish-brown blood from the hapless creatures he had destroyed stained his clothing, his fangs were on full display, he had the Jackal tucked in his waist and it had never looked so scary.
His crimson coat was apparently long gone, and he tore his suit jacket off as he took in your entire body. He advanced toward you slowly, pausing with every step to loosen his tie, or undo a vest button, clearly enjoying and finding arousal in your fright.
He had warned you, oh God, he had warned you, but you hadn't listened. He would be upon you soon and it would be over. You would become just another cautionary tale, a foolish girl who thought she could be like Sir Integra and play with this monster.
Alucard took one last heavy step toward you. His shirt was still tucked in, with his black tresses flowing over the collar, but it was mostly unbuttoned, showing off his lean muscles. It was almost as if he was taunting you, reminding you that you had no hope of stopping him from taking what he wanted. As a final humiliation and sign of your total submission, the tiniest little electric flutters flitted through your insides. Alucard started laughing and stopped to breathe it all in.
A tear trickled down your face as you turned your neck to him, hoping he would at least be quick. When he leaned over to get close, the last shred of courage you had failed and you closed your eyes, held your breath, and waited for the sensation of a sharp bite. Instead, there was a thud on the floor.
You let out a shallow, ragged breath and forced your eyes open. Alucard was on one knee, like the most chivalric of knights. Your head was spinning, as you were still frightened and a little intoxicated as you tried to contemplate the magnificence and might of the man before you. He had your hand, tiny and frail in his own, and he raised it slowly--so, so slowly--until you could feel his breath ghost against the back of your hand. His own fingers were so gentle, and you started breathing deeply as he finally pressed his lips into your hand. Your body shuddered, and you could not suppress a moan.
Alucard spoke: "What is your desire, my lady?"
Words and thoughts failed you for a moment. His eyes were still boring into you, devouring your essence, but he moved not a muscle. Finally, you somehow found the will to breathe, to force air through your vocal cords, to speak:
"I would have a dance, my lord."
"Then we shall dance. To please my lady is my greatest delight." He said the words, but you were still a little unsure. You had never heard Alucard sound so husky, never seen him so close to the line of control. When he did not immediately move, your fear spiked again. The air was so heavy with his want you feared you would choke.
The stillness broke. Alucard plucked you off the mattress as though you were weightless, and you instinctually pulled yourself close to him as he gracefully arced you toward some open floor. As your feet touched down, he already had your arm elegantly posed, his arm secure around his waist, and had begun a waltz.
Fear receded as arousal ran rampant.
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geekthefreakout · 5 months
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You know what I want badly in GO3?
I want hand kisses. I want a quiet moment when both of them have run out of words to say and there is so much hurt and love between them that there aren't words. So Aziraphale (because it needs to be Aziraphale this time) just lifts Crowley's hand and press a long kiss to his fingers.
I want Crowley to stare, his face unreadable while his brain reboots. And then I want him to squeeze Aziraphale's hand and for that to be ENOUGH. For both of them to melt and be certain now that they are on the same page.
I need this more than I need "I love you".
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Hewwo, little hand kiss, chu (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥
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Aaaand some sketchdumps
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Can't even be cute more then 2 minutes, always trash (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡
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misspoetree · 2 years
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mancatrex · 8 months
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I like the hand kiss. Not the polite touch your lips to their knuckles like those so-called elite Victorians. The one where you clutch their hands in your own, encircle them with both of your palms, and properly kiss the back of them. Maybe the fingers, too. Like you are worshipping your deity. Like you are so overwhelmed that you do not know how to express it in words.
I like the temple kiss. Not the gliding peck. The one where you squeeze the other by your side till both of you are breathless and drop a kiss on their temple, over the skin, the strands of stray hair, so hard that one of their eyes close automatically. You are laughing, and your kisses are noisy.
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artcake · 2 years
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A Queen and her beloved knight
(I can't believe I forgot to post this)
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flamingredanon · 1 year
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In each other's warm embrace.
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(bonus doodle of an old lineart)
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korinamare · 1 year
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Imagine us in our car, waiting on the red light, me holding your hand, kissing it while i am looking at you with so much love, enchanted by your beautiful smile. Wishing this moment to last forever. Thinking how i got so goddamn lucky.
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meechatuck · 1 year
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Mushy Stuff
I was hoping to get some art out for Valentine’s and I still might, but I’m not so sure it will happen. So in light of that, here is some fluff of Hector and Amelia. Still not sure if this will be in my main story as I’m still working on the other character I have in this. Just a cute idea I got from hearing bs quotes about how “people with rough hands are hard workers!” I mean I get it, but it’s not the only indicator for a hard worker. Anyways some fluffy and suggestive Hectelia for Valentine’s Day!
Hands
1500ish words
Fluff & suggestive material
"I thought you had a meeting with that one diplomat tonight?" Hector asked, pressing his lips to Amelia's bare shoulder.
She laughed softly, "Well, I may have asked Tegan to take him on a tour of the castle this evening. He agreed and rescheduled the meeting for tomorrow."
Hector chuckled and spoke between the soft kisses he lined down her back. "You always have somethin' planned, dontcha?"
She blushed at the attention he placed on her bare skin. Hiding her face from his view, she answered with a soft voice, "I missed you. You've been gone for two weeks. When I heard you were coming back early…well I wanted to see you once you got back. Meetings with diplomats can wait if they are staying here for a time…" Amelia rolled over onto her back and away from him, keeping her eyes averted from his. "Am I being too forward with my affections?"
Hector moved in close to her and pressed the back of her left hand to his mouth, "Nah, course not. I don't mind it."
Her heart skipped a beat at the press of his mouth to her hand. The conversation with Valeria from the other day wormed into her mind.
"That's how you know someone is spoiled. Just take a good look at their hands. Smooth hands, easy life. Rough, calloused, even scarred hands means someone worthwhile to have in your life. They know of hard work and sacrifice…"
Amelia's hands drew into her chest and clasped each other. She rolled over and off the bed, scooping up Hector's tunic off the floor. As she pulled it over her head, Hector sat up in her bed, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm just being ridiculous," Amelia mumbled, pulling her hair out of the tunic. She crawled back into bed and turned her back to Hector. Her fingers played with a stray strand of her hair.
"I can tell it's somethin' Amelia," Hector ran a hand down her side to her hip. "Whas wrong?" He kissed her neck, then nipped the skin. He smirked at the shiver it elicited from her.
She was quiet for a time, longer than he liked, before taking a deep breath and exhaling out a loud sigh. "It's just something Valeria said the other day…"
Hector grumbled something under his breath. "Why were you talkin' to her in the first place?"
"I wasn't talking to her," Amelia defended sharply over her shoulder. She turned away from him again and curled her legs up against her body. "I was just at the sparring ring-"
"Why were you down there in the first place?"
"Can I finish please?" Hector pursed his lips and nuzzled his face into her neck, his arms wrapping around her waist. "Thank you. And if you must know, I was going to see Declan and Finn." She hesitated before continuing, "She saw me enter the arena. She was training with some guards and showing them different disarming techniques. One of them got their hand cut. I stepped over just to see if they needed help. Valeria didn't say anything, so I wrapped up his hand. I was holding his hand in between mine and said it should only be a small scar.
"Then Valeria rested the end of her blade on our hands. I kept holding his hand as she proceeded to say…" Amelia stopped, remembering the disdainful look Valeria had given her. The scorn in her voice.
"What'd she say?" She could hear the edge in Hector's voice. A part of her wanted to rile him up, make him angry at Valeria. See what he would do. Gods, I have to stop this. That's not fair to anyone.
"Nothing. I don't want to make you upset with her. That's not fair to her or you." She turned onto her back, trying to give the impression she was fine.
"If she upset ya I wanna know. Just-"
"I worry that you feel the same way as her."
Amelia could feel his stare on her. He was quiet for what seemed like an eternity, the only sound filling her ears was her racing heartbeat. "Well what did she say? I can't tell ya if I feel the same way or not if I don't know what she said."
Her heart rate stayed at a running pace. The thought of telling him what she said....her mind conjured up the hardened expression he would have when she told him. Him telling her that Valeria was right… He had thought that about her once. That she was just a spoiled noble. He doesn't think that still…does he?
"Hey," Hector whispered, snuggling close to her. "It's okay. I'd never think somethin' bad about you."
"You did once." She regretted the words once they left her mouth.
His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched, but that couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes. "I didn't know you then."
"I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
"Seriously Amelia, what'd she say?"
She turned so her back was to him again. "I'm going to face this way."
"Kay?" She picked up on the air of confusion in his voice.
 She started to pick at her nails, still nervous despite turning away from him. "She…she basically said that you know someone is spoiled by looking at their hands. Smooth, pretty hands, spoiled noble. Scarred, calloused, worn hands means a hard worker." She hesitated, "That they are people worthwhile to have in your life. That they know of hard work and sacrifice."
There was another long silence. Amelia was sure he could hear her heart pounding away in her chest. Dread filled her as Hector's hands gently turned her body to face him. Her eyes looked at the scars on his chest and collar bone. She wouldn't look into his eyes. She didn't want to see the indifference there, or even worse the pity.
"Hey," he whispered, tilting her chin up and her gaze unwillingly met his. There was no contempt. No pity. Just tenderness. "Ya know, I might have thought that at one point in my life. But I don't now." Hector pressed one of her hands to his lips, then rested it on the side of his face. "I've learned that rough hands ain't the only way to show a hard worker or someone who knows of sacrifice."
"Then what does?" She held his gaze, genuinely curious to know his answer.
"Well, in your case, you're right your hands ain't scarred or even rough," Hector stated, looking at her hand. "But I can see the small callouses you have from writin' so much." His fingers traced the areas he spoke of. Amelia's somber expression lightened. "Sometimes ya got ink spots on your hands too. And they smell like the ink and parchment most times."
Amelia felt a warmth radiating from her chest and cheeks. Again, she was struck by how tender and sweet he could be. "Even my well manicured nails? That doesn't say I'm spoiled?"
"Ooh yeah," he drawled, his eyes hooded. "I love your nails. They tell me just how good of a job I do."
Her face went bright red. "Hector!" She playfully scolded.
"What? 'S true," He mumbled casually, wrapping her up in his arms. Her smile was wide and nuzzled into his neck. Hector rolled onto his back, letting her use his chest to rest on. His hands pulled the tunic she wore up, exposing her back to him. His fingers traced over her skin in random patterns.
There was a comfortable silence between them as they lay together. Hector was the one to break the silence, his voice taking a serious tone. "You've done a lot for the kingdom and the people in it. Anyone who tries to tell ya otherwise ain't worth arguin' with."
"Are you sure you aren't saying that because we're in a relationship?" Amelia asked quietly.
He snorted, "I knew that about ya even before we were together. You sacrificed a lot gettin' all that help from other kingdoms an' stuff. You hardly slept or ate when a few of those deals started goin' south. Then ya got them back on board with us. An' then there was that piece a shit diplomat that forced ya to take his deal."
"I wasn't forced Hector," Amelia cut in. "I made a decision. Albeit not the greatest one. But it was my decision."
He lifted up her chin, sighing deeply. It was an argument they had tried to hash out multiple times with no agreement in sight. “Still, you’ve done so much for gettin’ the kingdom back on its feet. Ain’t no one that can tell you otherwise.” He pressed his forehead to hers and rubbed their noses together. “You made me realize that fightin’ for one’s country can take on many different forms.”
Amelia smiled at him, “That was very poetic of you Hector.”
“What can I say? Ya rub off on me.” She giggled as he peppered her face with kisses. Their lips finally met in a soft, but ardent kiss. When they parted he laid his head back and began tracing her back again. His eyes were gentle, but intense at the same time, “I love you Amelia. I know I don’t express it in ways you understand as much, but I do. I love you.”
Amelia felt warmth radiate from her cheeks and chest again, a calm sensation washing over her. Her hands cupped his face, “I love you too Hector.”
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