aka hq boys and the many ways to share a kiss
A/N: I’ve seen so many people do these cute little drabble hc things and I’ve always wanted to try😌✨
Pairings: Tsukishima Kei/Sakusa Kiyoomi/Akaashi Keiji/Kita Shinsuke/Kuroo Tetsurou x reader
Tsukishima Kei — a kiss at the bridge of his nose
How do you kiss someone who wears glasses, you ask? Tsukishima Kei would reply instantly, almost a bit too quickly that you kiss someone who wears glasses just like how you would anyone else.
The snarl curling up at the corner of his lips was expectant as he parted his lips, ready to pick on the fact that it wasn’t like you would (or ever, as he hopes) know what it’s like to kiss someone who doesn’t. But the mocking tone was not enough to hide the momentary shock behind the lenses when you lifted his thin frame up with your index and thumb on the bridge, holding it there by his forehead as you pressed a kiss at each side of the bone right where the red marks of the rubber nosepads were printed.
You let the glasses slid back down on his nose as you bite back a smile, watching as he pushed them up with a furious stare and an equally mad blush
Sakusa Kiyoomi — a kiss on your inner wrist
Sakusa Kiyoomi was not exactly the most outwardly romantic lover. He frowned at the way people kissed messily and in hunger around the dimmed corner of the streets where they thought no one would see. It felt insanitary, both literally and metaphorically. He didn’t like letting the world see how he loved, thought it made what mattered so much to him way cheaper than what it should be.
But always, always he would reply if you give him a call, a signal that you need him. When you were fumbling with your hand, leaning against his side closer and closer like you wanted to fold yourself away from whatever was around you and he was the one you go to. It was always a gentle tuck at your sleeve that called you back to earth, followed by a tender brush of his lips at where your veins would be under the thin skin at just above the hem of your sleeve. People would have missed the miniature if they didn’t catch on to the way your gaze immediately softened at the reassurance. A peck barely there at where your pulse beater steadily, a reminder that he was here just like how your heart was still beating.
Akaashi Keiji — a kiss on the hand may be quite continental
Young Akaashi Keiji grew up with tales of epic love people sang songs about for millennia, of men with much to bear and the many rituals of courting through stolen glances and diverted gaze. He learnt that real life was no poem and sonnets at an equally young age, and people rarely sing about the simplicite happiness in growing old hand in hand or the beauty of everything falling in the right place without much ups and downs when you were with someone.
But still, there still was a part of him that longed for something so sweet, so moving that regular words just wouldn’t do. His poetry was written in the form of a reach for your hand, the playfulness dancing in his eyes as he looked up from your fingers he was holding onto all while he pressed a solemn kiss at the back of your hand.
He could sweep you off your feet like the prince in those fairytales you also grew up with if you so let it be, and you his one true love.
Kita Shinsuke — a kiss on the bridge of your foot
Kita Shinsuke does not do flings, does not do casual relationships, does not do fooling around. He goes into each relationship with his mind set on every step along the way, and he picked your hand up without the intention to let go unless you ask him to.
You knew you were of no importance in the grand scheme of the universe but somehow he made you feel that you too were a celestial being, or else how would a man like him kneel down on one knee in front of you without much of a thought? You didn’t have to say much, maybe a quick whine that your feet was cold and he was already at your side, down on the floor in all seriousness as he warmed you up in his hand. You would always squirm, always protest that it was out of your place to let him treat you like this, some fine treasure he had to rush forward and take care of in his hands or else he would feel uneased.
He never gave in to the burn on your skin and your flailing arms, only flustering even more when he brought your arched feet up, all warm under the heat of his skin, and placed a solemn kiss at the highest point of its bridge. All of that, before he put your feet down and picked up the other, smiling at you from behind his lashes as you refused to look at him in midst of your embarrassment.
Because who were you but a mere human, yet he worshipped you all the same.
Kuroo Tetsurou — a kiss on the center of your palm
Kuroo Tetsurou has an obsession with comparing hand sizes, with the way he could fit your entire hand in his palm and how you never failed to point it out just the way he wanted you to when he brought your hand flat up on his.
He could see each line lacing your hand as you focused on marvelling over the callouses on his, not seeing the way he’s too busy grinning ear to ear to hear a thing you were saying. Kuroo doesn’t believe in fortune telling or predicting the future, but he liked the idea that somewhere between the two curves that met on the side of your hand, one of those patterns said something about him being there in your life.
It all happened swiftly, he always went into everything with a plan. But his hand would trail down to your wrist while you were still tracing the rough skin on his palm, pulling your hand upwards towards his lips before his breath was tickling at your skin, the warmth replaced by a chaste pucker of his lips.
All before he pulled you into his arms like it’s a natural process, that smirking bastard who thought he was so so smooth.
(He was, in fact, quite smooth, if your reactions were a testimony of that.)
