#vicwriteshq

[saintshigaraki]

you know kiyoomi must be exhausted when he doesn’t even bother to unpack his gym bag before he slinks into the kitchen and pulls you into his chest. he doesn’t say a word as be buries his face in your neck.

you can’t help but smile, just a little when he gets like this. all soft and clingy and so sweet.  

“you tired, love?” you ask. you can’t quite keep the quiet teasing out of your tone (you try though, and that should count for something. but it’s impossible not to tease him just a tiny bit, when he’s like this).

the only response you get from him is the tightening of his arms around your waist.

it’s only after a few quiet minutes that he finally loosens his hold on you enough that you can turn around and face him. you take in his tired eyes, the slight downturn of his lips, and his hair that's still damp from the shower he must’ve taken before coming home. he reminds you of a kicked puppy and you can’t help but tut sympathetically.

“oh, poor baby,” you say, laughing lightly at his pout. you lift your hand up to cup his cheek and trace your thumb over his (unfairly) high cheekbones. and even as his ears burn red he doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling into your palm and closing his eyes, a soft sigh leaving his lips.  

you go to pull your hand back but he grips it with his own. you huff a little at his stubbornness when he refuses to let go.

“we can take a nap after i put dinner on, omi.”

at that, he relents, letting you go but not before he’s tugs you into him again to land a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips. and land another lingering one on your temple.

you nudge him with your shoulder when you find him still hovering at your back.

“go lay down, kiyoomi, this will only take a second.”

“i can wait then,” he says, his voice a little rough and so perfectly deep. it still sends a shiver down your spine, even after all these years.

you roll your eyes and turn around but you don’t bother fighting down the affection bubbling up in your chest, so much of it that it nearly makes your heart burst. 

[saintshigaraki]

being held by ushijima wakatoshi is an all-encompassing experience. he’s just so big, and warm, and surprisingly soft. and he always smells nice, like fresh laundry and the breeze on a comfortably warm summer afternoon. 

you didn’t expect him to be so physically affectionate when you two started dating, and at first, he really wasn’t. not outside of closed doors at least. and honestly, you were fine with that. you knew he loved you, it was obvious in the small smiles he gave you, the soft touches of his knuckles against your cheeks, and the little gifts he’d bring you with a simple this reminded me of you. 

love doesn’t always have to be loud. sometimes love is something soft and sweet. sometimes love is collections of smaller kindnesses. 

and that's what loving ushijima was and still is. these little collections of kindnesses. 

but he’s a bit more open with you these days. quicker to hug you. to cup your cheek with one huge hand when he kisses you. to trace mindless shapes into your skin. to rest your forehead against his and close his eyes. sometimes people need room to grow into these things.  

he reminds you a bit of the potted plants he loves. that he waters himself and makes sure are getting the perfect amount of sunlight. that he’s named after friends and always handles so gently. 

(his favorite, a little cluster of peace lilies, he named after you.)

some things just need to be cultivated, to be held tenderly, and treated with all the love in your heart. 

and thats what the love is between you and wakatoshi. a result of tenderness. a quiet steady progression. easy to grow into, easy to hold, easy to open your heart to. 

and now you can’t quite imagine loving any other way. 

[saintshigaraki]

it’s hard for you to see the same intimidating ushijima wakatoshi that everyone else seems to see. 

you suppose, on some level, you understand why people tend to be a bit nervous around him. he’s tall, broad, and painfully blunt. and that scowl he seems to sport at all times doesn’t really help his case much. 

but this is the same ushijima wakatoshi who you remember so vividly stumbling over his words when asking you out for coffee. this is the same ushijima wakatoshi who brings you home flowers or trinkets at least once a week because it reminded him of you. this is the same ushijima wakatoshi who calls you sweetheart and love and darling with the straightest face possible because to him you just are his sweetheart, his love, his darling. this is the same ushijima wakatoshi who after particularly grueling practices, likes to collapse on top of you, bury his face in your neck, and refuse to move until it’s absolutely necessary. 

it’s the same ushijima who kisses your temple every morning without fail before he leaves. it’s the same ushijima who traces your face with one calloused finger and tells you with no preamble that you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen even though it’s six in the morning and you’re pretty sure you still have some sleep in the corner of your eye. 

it’s the same ushijima who calls you every night when he’s gone on away games and never hangs up without an i love you. and it’s the same ushijima who holds your hand and refuses to let go after you’ve greeted him at the airport. and when you cheekily ask him if he missed you responds bluntly with more than anything. 

it’s just hard to see him as anything but your doting partner when that’s all he’s been to you for so long now. 

sometimes you wish others see him as you do, but most of the time, selfishly, you’re more than happy to hold ushijima wakatoshi close and never feel pressured to let go. 

[saintshigaraki]

HERE, IN THE MORNING LIGHT, IS WHERE WE’LL BARE OUR SOULS

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader 

words: 3.2k

excerpt: Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

a/n: this is...a bit too similar to my bakugou drabble i’ll admit. but i could see a relationship with ushijima having some of the same problems. he’s not purposely cruel, but god, doesn’t that just make it so much worse?

tags: angst, mentions of alcohol, implied sex, reader is full of rage, ambiguous/open ending

in case you want to read it on ao3!

You greet Toshi at the door, as you’ve made a habit of doing when he manages to come home before you’ve fallen asleep.

(Like a well-trained dog, you think, with only the most bitter sort of amusement.) 

When you lift your hand up to cup his face, a sweet hello, love, how was your day? on your lips, he sweeps it aside (gently, of course. He's always so sickeningly gentle when he brushes you aside. You think that might just make the hollow sting of his nonchalant rejection that much worse.)

“Have you made anything for dinner?” he asks, already walking away before you have a chance to pull him down for a kiss. Your arm falls unceremoniously at your side. A deadweight, swinging. 

I think I might hate you, you want to say, so,  so badly. The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue as you stand frozen in the darkened entryway, his shadow stretches, eclipsing you, as he walks further and further away.

But these moments of sweet burning-hot rage pass as quickly as they come and soon -- too soon, maybe, or not soon enough -- you find yourself turning on your heels and shining a too-bright smile, the one that shows too many teeth and leaves an ache in your cheeks. 

“Not yet, love, but I can whip up something real quick.” 

The words taste like lead in your mouth.

(Or maybe that's just the blood from biting your tongue.)

Who knows, you muse, bitterly, bitingly. What does it matter anyway? 

You make your way towards the kitchen.

+

Later that night, after he’s finished fucking you into the mattress, he grunts out an I love you, before rolling over and promptly falling asleep. 

His cum is sticky and uncomfortable as it cools on your burning thighs. 

You stare at the lights sweeping across the ceiling from the passing cars and try to remember days when you didn’t feel as though someone had hollowed out everything that made you and filled in the empty space with barely contained rage. 

Rationally, you know you weren’t always so unhappy with Ushijima. You loved him -- you still do -- you have for years. You could barely contain your tears of joy when he asked you to marry him and you didn’t manage to contain them at all the day you officially tied the knot. 

You were so happy then. So, so, happy. 

What happened? 

(You know exactly what happened.)

You’ve made sacrifice after sacrifice for him. Moved from country to country. Left your family and friends behind more times than you can count. Because you love Toshi. Because you love him more than anything. And because he loves you, though you know he doesn’t love you more than anything. It’s a selfish gripe to have. A rather dumb one too. Of course he doesn’t love you more than volleyball. Why should he? He’s dedicated his whole life to the sport. Countless hours, countless injuries, and setbacks, and he’s persevered through it all because that's what he does. Because that sport, that court, that stupid fucking ball, is what he loves above all else. 

It’s not as if you jumped into this marriage wholly and totally blind. You’re not dumb. You knew volleyball was going to be a priority in his life,  the priority. And you thought you could handle that. You did handle it. For 5 years you’ve handled it, the constant moving, the last minute canceled plans, the weeks of him traveling that have left you all alone for near months at a time in a cold home with a cold bed. You’ve handled it all with a too-wide smile plastered painfully across your face. 

But things have -- shifted, recently. Maybe it’s the pressure of what could very well be his last Olympics coming up in these next few years, maybe it’s the fear of someone younger, better, stronger than him taking his place, or maybe, he simply doesn’t give all that much of a  fuck about you anymore. 

(You know that’s not true. Wakatoshi loves you. You know that. Which is what makes this all so much worse.)

I love you, isn’t that enough? he’d said bluntly, and maybe a bit confused, last time you brought up your concerns after the third canceled date in a row. 

His words had made you pause. Was it enough? Why isn’t it enough? Shouldn’t it be enough?

At the time, you’d thought, maybe. Maybe I can make it enough. 

A year later and you’ve come to the realization that it simply -- isn’t enough. Maybe if you were a different person, a slightly better person, it’d be enough. But you’re not. You’re you, a strange, toxic concoction of hollow fury and selfish desires (for comfort, for love, for anything more than whatever this is).

You roll over on your side to face your husband. He’s on his back, like he always is when he sleeps, completely dead to the world. 

He’s statuesque, unmovable, untouchable, even now. 

You gently brush your finger over his brow, sweeping his hair to the side, and tracing his strong jawline. You’ve done this a thousand times. You’ve memorized every curve, every freckle, every scar. You’ve mapped countless constellations across his skin. 

You don’t hate him, you realize, in the dark suffocating silence of the night. Not yet, at least. There’s still too much love for him in your heart. Still too many memories of brighter days. Sweeter days. Gentler days. 

He’s been good to you. As good as a man like him is capable of being. And you love him so, so dearly for it. 

He has tomorrow off, maybe -- maybe you should talk to him. There’s still time to salvage this. There’s still so much love for him in your heart, enough to drive out the hate. You know it. 

He has tomorrow off, you repeat to yourself. The first full day he’s taken off in a month. 

You’ll talk to him then. 

You have to. 

+

The morning light is what wakes you. The gentle rays kiss your cheeks so sweetly. 

Without fully opening your eyes, you reach towards Ushi only to be met with -- cool sheets. 

Your stomach drops painfully and it's as though he’s taken your heart in his hands and just squeezed. 

You open your eyes, wearily, tiredly, and the morning light no longer seems so sweet. It’s mocking. A cruel, bitter reminder of better days and broken promises. 

You crawl out of bed, trying to stay optimistic -- maybe he just went for a morning jog -- even though you know that on days he has off he likes to sleep in. You try desperately to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he promised and you want so badly to still be able to believe him, even after everything. 

He used to have every Saturday and Sunday free, then around three years ago it turned into every Sunday, then a year and a half ago it turned into every other Sunday, and recently -- well, it’s been a while. A long, long while. 

But he promised he’d stay home today. 

He promised, you repeat as you stumble around the apartment only to find it painfully silent, empty, and so, so cold. 

You collapse on the couch, hunched over, your head hanging pitifully into your hands. You take a deep, pathetically shaky breath. 

And then you laugh. 

You laugh so hard you nearly heave. 

Two years ago, you would’ve cried. A year ago, you would’ve screamed. 

But now? Who do you really have to blame, but yourself? How can you not laugh? How can you not laugh at just how stupid and gullible you are? 

Really, how many times can you blame Ushijima for breaking your heart when you’re the one who can’t seem to stop handing it to him -- on a silver fucking platter no less. 

This is your fault. And it has been for a long while now. 

It’s time to move on. 

+

You book a one-way flight home -- you haven’t been back in so long. Too long, you know. You stuff as much as you can into your single suitcase and pitiful carry-on bag. It’s all strangely methodical and robotic. You’re calmer than you’ve been in months. 

This is how it was always going to end. Honestly, you don’t think there was really supposed to be another option, any other way out. You don’t think this mess was ever going to be fixed. It was stupid of you to ever believe otherwise. 

By the time you’ve managed to compose yourself, get your affairs in order, and meticulously pack away as much as you can, the sun has started to dip below the horizon. 

The clock reads 9:18 PM. Your flight is in a few hours. You’ll have to get going soon. 

You pick out the nicest, most expensive bottle of red wine in your home. You were going to save it for when Ushi made the national team again but, as you’ve learned rather painfully, sometimes plans change. 

You pour yourself a glass, but in the end, can’t bring yourself to take a single sip. 

That’s how Ushi finds you, sitting at the kitchen table, toying with a glass of wine. There’s only the lone kitchen light lit in the apartment. The shadows dance around him, dark and monstrous, ready to swallow you both whole. 

Wakatoshi has never been particularly skilled at reading social cues but you can tell from the slight tilt of his head that he knows somethings wrong. You wonder if he knows exactly how wrong. 

(Not that it would really change anything if he did.)

The thud of his gym bag hitting the floor echoes too loudly in the silent apartment. 

He steps into the kitchen like he does all other things -- with purpose, with confidence. It will never not leave you in awe, even now, how sure he always is of himself. He’s a blunt force weapon, he always has been, and you can’t imagine a time where he’ll be anything but. 

He stops at the opposite end of the table. It’s the beginning of the same song and dance you two have done time and time again when he breaks his little promises. 

His big ones too. 

(You think of when he had missed your five-year anniversary dinner for a last-minute practice. He hadn’t forgotten about the reservation, he’d told you after he’d returned home to you sitting alone at the kitchen table, half-drunk and livid, but people were relying on him, is what he’d said, and there’s always next year.)

This routine is comforting, if only in the cruelest way. 

We can put on a show, just this last time, you think. For old time’s sake. 

Your eyes fall back down to your glass as you speak. “You said you’d stay home today.”

You look back up just in time to see him opening his mouth. No doubt getting ready to cycle through the same set of excuses he’s been using for the past four years. 

A teammate called. 

I needed the extra practice. 

There’s a skill I need to perfect. 

The Olympics are 4 years away...3 years away...2 years away....you know that, love.

And, of course, no matter his reason, his excuse, he always makes sure to add, I’ll stay home next Sunday, I promise. 

He doesn’t intend for that last part to be cruel, you’re sure of it, but God, if that doesn’t make it so much worse. 

You cut him off before he can even start. “You promised.”

His brows furrow at your exhausted, weary tone. “There was a team meeting today, I’m sorry I forgot to mention it to you. It went on longer than I expected it would. We can still go out to dinner if you’d like.” 

You give him a sad sort of smile. You’re too tired to give him any other. “I don’t think I’ll have time for that, love.”

Ushijima’s left brow twitches, as it always does when he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on. 

He takes a step forward, around the table. “What do you mean? Are you going out tonight?” 

You shake your head softly. “No, Toshi.”

You can’t help but wish more than anything, that it didn’t have to come to this, because you have loved him so much, so deeply, and you think that for it to end like this is a disservice to you both. 

His jaw clenches, no doubt already trying to contain his frustration. He’s probably tired after his long day. An argument over something like this is probably the last thing he wants. A good wife would care more. A good wife might’ve persevered, smiled through her husband's little lies and shattered promises. A good wife might’ve tried harder. A good wife might’ve dug her heels in, instead of letting go completely. 

But you’re not a good wife. Not now, at least. For all you know, you never were. You’ve always been just a bit too bitter, too selfish, too flawed. Not willing enough to throw yourself on the metaphorical altar for him. 

He’s close enough now that he can see the suitcase at your side. It stops him dead in his tracks. 

“What’s going on?” His tone is hard, demanding, but you know him too well to miss the fear that pulls at the corner of his eyes. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a lot of things. But he’s certainly not dumb. He has to know what’s going on. He has to have known that, eventually, this was what was going to happen. 

You stand up slowly, bracing your palms against the rough wood of the tabletop. 

“I-” you let out a harsh, mean breath. You hate that you’re doing this. But you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t. And you know you’d grow to hate him too, eventually, if you stay. You’re burning up here in this home, each broken promise and cold night add fuel to the already raging fire. You’ll be nothing but ashes soon enough. “I can’t do this anymore, Wakatoshi.” 

His pretty olive eyes narrow. The look he gives you is practically glacial. His fury has always been so, so cold. A stark contrast to your burning rage. 

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t understand.” His words are slow, methodical, and too even.

They crack open something violent inside your chest, something with teeth. Something mean and ugly and so, so sad. 

Too many years of biting your tongue have culminated into this moment. It’s time to strip yourself to the bone, to the ugly marrow. No matter how painful or awful. 

Don’t you two deserve that, at least? Don’t you two deserve to part ways having seen the worst of each other? 

“Of course you don’t understand, Ushijima,” you spit out, caustic and cruel. “How can you?” The laugh you let out is ripped from the very bottom of your heart, mean and poisonous. “Or more accurately, why would you? Why would you even bother understanding? It’s not like my unhappiness has ever really meant anything to you before-”

He cuts in sharply. “You know that’s not true.”

“No,”  you hiss. “I don’t. How can I? I’ve been miserable for years now, left to beg for scraps of your attention like a fucking dog. I’ve reduced myself to this pathetic creature. I-” tears cloud your vision, far faster than you can blink them away. “I don’t even recognize myself anymore, Ushijima. I’m so--I’m so angry all the time and if I stay here that’s going to be all that’s left of me.”

It’s silent after your outburst and in the air is something awful and too great. You’re both teetering on the edge of something terrifying. 

“If you stay with me, you mean,” he says, finally, and far too soft for a man like him. All signs of his previous fury have fled and in his eyes is a painful sort of vulnerability.

Your anger dissipates with his, mostly because you’re so fucking tired of being angry. 

Is it really his fault, anyway? What exactly were you expecting of him, when you took his last name? Were you really wanting him to change something so fundamental, so ingrained in his soul, just for you? How unfair of you, you realize now, how cruel. 

“Toshi.” You’re exhausted. And so sick of being second best. “This is more my fault than it is yours. I thought I could handle what being married to you would entail but I was,” -- you laugh, far less biting than before-- “very wrong.” You close your eyes, unable to look at him. “And now I suppose we’re both paying the price for it.” 

“I love you,” he says, bluntly. “And you love me.”

You’re finally able to meet his eyes again. You take in the planes of his face, the subtle pain etched into every corner, a brutal, beautiful reflection of the years you’ve spent by his side. 

“I do love you, Ushijima. More than anything.” 

“Then why are you doing this?” 

You swallow hard. “Sometimes, that just isn’t enough, Toshi. Relationships require more than love. They require work, and compromise, and some semblance of care and dedication, and you just-- you just don’t have the time for that right now, and I understand that. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I deserve-” you stop and give yourself a moment to choose your words carefully, lovingly because you’re desperate for him to just understand. “We deserve better, don’t you think?”

He shakes his head, his hair falls in his eyes. You sweep it aside, a force of habit after all these years, something you’ve done a million and one times. Before you can jerk your arm back he grips it in his large hand. His fingers wrap around your wrist, unyielding. 

“I need you,” Toshi says, uncharacteristically desperate. You can feel the heat radiating off his chest. It's a twisted sort of comfort. Knowing this may very well be the last time you’ll be in this position. 

You smile, sweetly and a bit sadly. “No, you don’t, Ushi. You need volleyball. You need the thrill of the game and the taste of victory but you don’t need me. You’ve never needed me. And that’s okay.” You lift your other hand up to brush the stray tear that’s fallen from his eye. He nuzzles into your palm before you can move it, clinging to you like some sort of lifeline. “It’ll be okay, Toshi, we’ve just reached the end of our road. That’s all.”

He raises a shaky hand to trace the dried tracks of tears on your cheek, it’s startling to see him so uncomposed. “Please,” he nearly begs, “don’t do this.”

In your heart, there’s an odd brew of grief and rage and pain and love so mean you know you’ll feel the ache of it for years to come. 

You think of all the shattered promises he’s left at your feet, you think of the gentle way he’s held you through the years, you think of his string of nonchalant rejection, you think of yourself, bright and burning. 

Your mind spins from it and all you can do is rest your head against his chest and close your eyes.

a/n pt 2: there is some untapped potential in the fed up housewife genre and i am determined to unearth it. also i love ushi i promise i think he’d be a great husband under most circumstances

[saintshigaraki]

kiyoomi gets clingy after he’s had a bad day. subtly clingy and not-so-subtly desperate for affection. he reminds you a bit of a cat, in an abstract sort of sense, when he drapes himself over you and only relaxes once you start carding your fingers through his curls. 

(he always lets out a little whine when you stop, even if its for just a moment, though he’ll try to deny it afterwards, all why’ll blushing so fiercely you’ll half-wonder how its even possible for a person to get that red.)

its not that kiyoomi only gets affectionate after a rough day, its just...amplified. if you’re cooking in the kitchen, he’s right there behind you, face pressed into the crook of your shoulder. if you’re on the couch watching something, his arms will tighten at any hint that you might be getting up. and his kisses are always deeper, sweeter, slower. all-consuming. 

(sometimes it really does feel like if he were given the chance, kiyoomi would flay himself open and hide you away in his heart, just to keep you as close as he possibly could. 

his love for you can be as sweet as it is terrifying.)

and later that night, when you’re curled up in bed, limbs tangled, he’ll press one last kiss to the inside of your wrist and murmur i love you, more than anything. and when his dark eyes meet yours, you see so much raw devotion in them that its impossible to not believe him, wholly, with everything you have. 

being with kiyoomi isn’t always easy, but it’s these moments, so delicate and lovely, that on days when you stumble, you’ll be able to hold in your palm and bring close to your heart, to cherish, to love, to remember exactly what it means to be loved by sakusa kiyoomi. 

[saintshigaraki]

haikyuu boys + little things they do for you

included: ushijima, tendou, aone, iwaizumi, kyoutani, and tsukishima 

USHIJIMA ➜ will listen to you rant about anything for literal hours without interrupting you. he’s not just sitting there and tuning you out either, he’s 100 percent fully engaged and will be able to answer you if you ask for his opinion on whatever went down (it’ll be blunt and brutally honest but thats part of his charm). he loves you and your voice and it shows by just how long he’ll let your words wash over him. 

TENDOU ➜ has a huge manga collection and will let you borrow any of them at any given time, even if it’s one he’s in the middle of reading (tendou is a huge simp i just know it). he genuinely loves sharing them with you, loves discussing them with you, and he constantly has new recommendations. you will always have free entertainment right at your fingertips thanks to tendou. 

AONE ➜ is the type to gently fix the collar of your shirt or move the clasp of your necklace back in it’s right spot. he’s so soft about it too. he’ll run his hands over your shoulders after and give you such a sweet small smile. will run his thumb over your cheek or mouth if there's a smudge of food, paint, ink, etc. and afterwards continue to cradle your face in his giant hand bc he’s a softie for you. 

IWAIZUMI ➜ will remind you of random events coming up just in case you forgot (y/n, don’t forget you have a huge test this thursday. have you been studying? y/n, don’t you have a doctors appointment tomorrow afternoon? y/n, you have that interview early tomorrow morning right? is your alarm set?) it’s just one of the many ways he likes to take care of you. 

KYOUTANI ➜ okay first i want to preface this by saying kyoutani is without a doubt a car guy. he exclusively drives stick shift and he’s unbearably smug about his skills behind the wheel (for good reason but you’d never tell him that bc that particular part of his ego does not need to be stroked). anyway. kyoutani will drive you anywhere and everywhere at any time of day or night. he’ll grumble about it maybe if it’s another 2am run to the convenience store but really it doesn’t bother him. he loves cars and he loves you, why wouldn’t he enjoy driving around with you?

TSUKISHIMA ➜ brings you meals and snacks constantly and completely unprompted. seriously, with the amount of times he does this it almost seems like he thinks you’re perpetually starving without him. he will act like it’s a major inconvenience and/or burden for him even though you literally did not ask him to do it but it’s okay because after handing you whatever he brought you that particular day (your favorite no doubt, or whatever you’d been recently craving) he always presses a kiss to your temple before plopping down next to you to complain about his day.  

(requests are open)

[saintshigaraki]

haikyuu boys + physical affection

(included: ushijima, tsukishima, bokuto, kuroo, iwaizumi, and aone)

USHIJIMA ➜ is not big on kissing in public but will let you pull him down to give him a kiss on the cheek if you wanted to say hi before practice. will always hold hands with you when walking around anywhere crowded. once you guys are behind closed doors he turns into the biggest cuddler and it’s nice too. he runs a little warmer but not to the point of it being unbearable so it’s like cuddling up with a nice heated blanket. he likes the weight of your head on his chest. if you want, he will carry you no teasing or questions asked, it wouldn’t even cross his mind to. why would he not carry you if you asked?

TSUKISHIMA ➜ tsukki is…tskukki. he’s not big on PDA at all in any form EXCEPT kissing the crown of your head. he does it all the time, usually after teasing you for a solid ten minutes. you can feel him smiling against your hair when he does it. likes to walk shoulder to shoulder with you, so close his arm will often brush against yours and you can feel his body heat. once you guys get home he doesn’t suddenly get a lot more touchy but he’s 100 percent okay with you sitting on his lap and peppering kisses all over the face. the boy craves your affection no matter how much he tries to brush it off by teasing you for being ‘needy’.

BOKUTO ➜ physical affection is sort of this mans thing. without a doubt the type of boyfriend to give you a spin hug if he hasn’t seen you in over a few hours. has absolutely no problem kissing you in front of others. will demand them for good luck even if he’s just at practice. likes to keep his arm slung around your shoulder when you guys walk around. at home he is a cuddle monster. will cling to you and nuzzle his face into your neck. despite his size he has no problem being the little spoon. he honestly doesn’t have a preference either way as long as you two are touching. shows a lot of his love through physical affection.

KUROO ➜ BACK HUGS BACK HUG BACK HUGS! this man will give you so many back hugs and depending on your height is the type to rest his chin on top of your head. he just likes to hold you for however long you’ll let him. likes to keep his hand on the small of your back when walking around. has no problem kissing you in public but is mostly fond of kissing your temple. and though he would never, under any circumstances admit it, he’s also very fond of you kissing his cheek. will let you rest your feet or legs on his lap while you both do your separate thing or watch a movie. prefers to be the big spoon, ties back in with his love of back hugs.

IWAIZUMI ➜ relatively comfortable with PDA and does not care if his friends give him shit for it. he loves you and has no problem expressing that. will let you tug him along by the hand while looking at shops. loves to brush his thumb over the top of your hand or the apple of your cheeks. also forehead! kisses! he loves to give them! out of everyone on the list, cuddling with him is the best. he’s all hard muscle and being in his arms just makes you feel so safe and loved. won’t outright say it but loves it when you play with his hands, especially when you lightly trace the veins with your fingertips.

AONE ➜ brr brr big scary man who is actually a huge softie and will do probably anything you ask of him. won’t initiate a lot of PDA but if you want a hug who is he to deny you one? if you want to hold hands why wouldn’t he? if you want him to bend down so you can give him a kiss or to smooth out the furrow in his brow why would he ever say no? when you guys are home sometimes he just stares at you and traces his finger lightly down the side of your face. he loves that he can be soft with you and you in turn are soft with him. LOVES it when you play with his hair. if he feels its been too long since you last did it he will ask you to do it, bluntly, even if his face is as a red as a tomato when he does.

(requests are open)

[saintshigaraki]

it’s almost terrifying how fast you fell in love with kita shinsuke. 

he’s just so kind. a startling sort of kindness. a genuine sort of kindness. the type of kindness that always manages to take you by surprise. the type of kindness that makes you feel cradled and loved beyond belief. 

and he’s so gentle with you. holds you like hand spun glass when you feel as though you’re about to shatter. he brushes your tears away with a near staggering amount of tenderness, all while murmuring it’s going to be alright. i promise. it’s going to okay. i’m here. i’m here. i’m here. 

and he’s always right there beside you when you’re overwhelmed. i’ll take care of it, he says when you feel the world is crumbling beneath your feet. i promise. and he does. he always takes care of it. he always takes care of you. when you’ve been up too long, too late in the evening, and your eyes are burning, he’s there to turn off the computer. you need to rest, he murmurs, placing a gentle kiss to your temple. and he doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he leads you to the bathroom, where he does your nighttime routine for you when you can hardly keep your head. afterwards, he’ll hold you close in bed, your head on his chest so the steady thump thump thump of his heart can lull you into sleep.

you learn a lot from him too. you learn how to take joy in small things. in a sunny day, in a nice summer breeze, in the early morning dawn where it’s all soft purples and brilliant shades of orange. he teaches you to take joy in taking care of yourself, of your surroundings and the people in them. and even on your bad days, when it’s hard for you to find joy in these small things, he’s there, with his soft words, and soft touches, and even softer lips to remind you that there are always better days ahead. 

you fell in love with kita terrifyingly fast. but you don’t mind. some people are just so easy to love. 

[saintshigaraki]

won’t you give me your cruelest smile

↳ DARK ACADEMIA TSUKISHIMA KEI 

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

excerpt: 

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” He sounds far too pleased for your liking.

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.”

a/n: @yamagucji​​ said dark academia tsukki and my brain quite literally short circuited 

tags: enemies-ish to lovers (more like academic rivals to lovers), tsukki being an annoyingly smart condescending history major, reader goes through the five stages of grief when they realize they might actually li- 🤢 like him, a reference to the classic ‘ooooh you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid’ 

If there is a single, minuscule, barely visible silver lining in having Tsukishima as a partner for your quarter project it is that, without a doubt, he is smart. 

You have to admit, begrudgingly, that his intellect borders on genius-level which is something you use as silent proof to attest to your working theory that there is in fact, no god, or at the very least not a kind one, because if there was they wouldn’t be blessing gremlins like the one sitting across from you with a gift like that. 

He’s quiet now (after about an hour of telling you all the ways your interpretation was oh so very wrong) and content to stare at you lazily, his eyes half-lidded and filled with his specific brand of cruel amusement that leaves you wanting to do nothing more than smack his black-rimmed glasses right off his smug face. 

You take a deep breath and try desperately to quell the utterly unique type of rage he elicits in you, although as always, nothing you do ever quite manages to bring your boiling blood to a simmer. 

He’s twirling his expensive black pen between his stupidly long fingers. Every once in a while the light catches on the onyx stone of his pinky ring which somehow manages to flash directly in your eyes every time. He notices, of course. He notices everything. Which makes you think he’s doing it on purpose just to be an ass.

Which, admittedly, is perfectly in line with everything else he does so, you come to the frustrating conclusion that he most definitely is doing it on purpose. 

“You’re embarrassingly easy to rile up,” he says, interrupting your silent seething, his voice deep and smooth and absolutely dripping with condescending satisfaction. 

Your eyes flash up from the book you’d been only barely processing just to be met with his own golden-brown ones. He’s smirking down at you, of course. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear any other sort of expression. 

You want nothing more than to glare at him but that would just be proving his point so instead, you snap your book shut. It rings out loudly in the empty library. 

“It’s late. Let’s start this backup tomorrow.”

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” he sounds far too pleased for your liking. 

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.” 

He tilts his head back, exposing his long neck, and laughs. It’s so deep you feel it in your own chest. You just barely manage to suppress a shiver, which thank fuck, because he would’ve most definitely noticed it and you don’t think you’d be able to live that down. 

You make your way towards the front doors but not before he manages to slip on his wool coat and catch up to you, with ease of course, his long legs have become your number one enemy over the quarter because he always, always, catches up with you when you try to speed walk away from him. 

The autumn chill immediately settles into your bones, your skin prickles unpleasantly. You can see your breath in the night air. A shitty end to a shit day. 

You both head down the cobbled street in strangely comfortable silence. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he radiates and you’re silently thankful for it. 

You get to the fork in the path where he takes his way back to his dorm and you take yours but instead of peeling off left like he usually does he sticks to your side. 

You stop immediately and eye him up warily. “What are you doing?”

He rolls his eyes. “Asking idiotic questions doesn’t really suit you, you know.” 

You say nothing, content to narrow your eyes. 

He rolls his eyes again and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m walking you home, try not to be a brat about it.” 

“You never walk me home,” you point out, suspiciously. 

“You are rather good at pointing out the very obvious, aren’t you?” and before you can respond he already had turned on his heels and started walking. You have to half jog to catch up. 

You watch him out of the corner of your eye with the intent of trying to read his motive but you get stuck on the fact that his cheeks are flushed rather prettily from the cold. 

“You sure do love to stare, don’t you?” he asks rather conversationally. 

You’ve never wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole more in your entire life. Your cheeks burn hot even in the frigid cold. 

He notices. Of course he does. What does Tsukishima Kei not notice?

“No need to be embarrassed,” he needles cruelly. “Denial can be a brutal beast.”

You only barely manage to stop yourself from asking what exactly he means by that, what exactly he thinks you’re in denial about. 

But you know he wants nothing more than for you to ask so you take a sweet sort of satisfaction in not questioning him further, at least on that front. 

The rest of the walk back to your dorm is spent in less comfortable silence than before. There’s an odd sort of tension in the air, like a rope pulled so tight you can physically feel it starting to fray, getting ready to snap.

It comes to a head when, after getting to your building, instead of immediately going inside you find yourself looking down and shuffling your feet.

You know you should thank him, even if you didn’t ask him to walk you home. You guys never worked this late, you’d lost track of time (it’s scarily easy to lose track of time when arguing with Tsukishima) and you know it was nice of him to walk you home when he’d have to double back another 15 minutes in the freezing cold to get to his place. 

You know you should thank him. It’s the reasonable, polite thing to do. But it’s just so fucking hard to be reasonable and polite when Tsukishima Kei and his galaxy-sized ego are involved. No one in your entire life has been able to get under your skin as he has. It’s like he was perfectly crafted to be your own personal headache. 

You brave a glance up at him and find that he’s standing very, very close and staring, rather intensely, at you. A curiously amused gleam in his eye. 

Your mind stutters and then stops completely, going painfully blank. 

He’s so stupidly pretty. 

His skin is flawless, you’ve never once seen him with even a single pimple, his hair is the nicest pale-blond you’ve ever seen and it falls in perfect tufts against his forehead, but it’s his eyes that always make you shift from foot to foot. They’re such a unique shade of golden-brown, and now, shrouded in the dark and mere inches away from your own face, you’d swear on your life they were practically glowing.

“You’ve got something on your mind?” he asks, his tone anything but sweet. He’s so close you can smell the warm spice of his cologne and the ever-clinging scent of ancient books that seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

“I-” but you can’t seem to put together a coherent sentence. You don’t think you’ve ever hated someone so much in your life. 

Somehow, he’s managed to push in even closer. “You know what I think?”

No, you want to say, and I don’t want to know. Your heart is beating far too fast and you can’t explain why. 

(You know exactly why)

“I think you want to kiss me.”

And just like that the rope snaps and you’re viciously tugging him down by the collar of his too-nice coat so you can smash your lips against his. 

The kiss is brutal. Far too mean with too much teeth. At one point you taste the sting of iron and you can’t tell if the blood is his or yours. 

He backs you up against a wall without breaking the kiss. When he bites at your lip, no doubt cutting it open, you grab a fist full of his hair and tug cruelly and his responding groan tastes so sweet on your tongue. 

He doesn’t pull away until your lungs are screaming for air. 

He’s inches away from you, pupils blown wide, lips swollen (and a little bloody), and his hair is a mess. It’s the most out of sorts you’ve ever seen him. 

If you thought he was pretty before, he’s absolutely beautiful now. 

His smirk widens into a full blown smile and you understand now why he doesn’t show it often. It shows too many teeth, it’s downright wolfish. Predatory, even. 

You don’t really have time to think on it though before he pulls you into another bruising kiss. 

have some dark academia tsukishima headcanons while you’re here

he is without a doubt the most pretentious asshole you will ever meet and and you will HATE yourself for eventually finding him weirdly charming in any capacity

he is, of course, a history major which. if you have ever met pretentious male history majors you will know that this means he is a literal walking, talking, annoyingly tall headache

interrupts professors constantly. does it like he’s getting paid. will argue and argue and argue with them without that dumb condescending smirk ever, ever managing to slip off his face

(the worst part is, he’s honestly probably making a good point most of the time. but you’d quite literally rather die than admit that to him)

he is always walking around campus lazily flipping through leather bound books so old they’re cracked precariously at their spines, all on different ancient civilizations. you’d think that’d mean he’d be running into people but the student body collectively parts like the red sea for him which sets your teeth on edge.

he’s unbelievably arrogant and the worst part is its not baseless like you find yourself so desperately wishing it was

he IS smart, wickedly so. disgustingly, cruelly intelligent and he will use it to pick you apart piece by piece while that stupid fucking smirk stays glued on his face.

(you start to seriously question whether or not he’s even human because how can anyone keep the same, perfectly calculated expression for that long?)

always looks like he stepped straight out of some dark alternate universe vogue photoshoot with his constant rotation of black turtlenecks, long coats, and oxford loafers all tied together by the same 5 rings he’s never seen without, two of which are set with hefty onyx stones

you will be unlucky enough to be paired up with him for a project that will take all quarter long and multiple meet ups a week. when your professor announced your partner, you genuinely consider dropping the class and when you find out you wouldn’t be able to drop the class without switching majors, you genuinely consider switching majors

you don’t. and by the end of the quarter you’re really starting to question whether that was a good thing or not

[saintshigaraki]

Tell me what brainrot or current thought you have. :) I want to listen to what's plaguing your mind. <333 (I am going to guess something about Ushijima..)

actually today wing you are getting some sickeningly soft thoughts about aone takanobu </3

it’s moments like these that you wish you could carve out and hold in the palm of your hand, dry out and press between the pages of a book, to carry with you, perfectly preserved and untouched. forever and always. 

you watch from your well-worn spot on the kitchen counter as aone finishes watering up the last of his houseplants. there’s a nice cool late summer breeze flowing in through the open window, and it’s hard not be entranced by the afternoon sunlight dancing on the ceiling. 

over the years you’ve spent with takanobu, this has grown to be your favorite ritual. 

he talks to his plants sometimes. about the weather, about his day, about you. simple things, sweet things. sometimes he’ll comment on how strong they’ve grown, as he gently inspect their leaves.

(he’s always so gentle with them. painfully and lovingly so. he’s so large and they’re so small that it really is a fascinating process to watch.)

he’ll ask them questions too, how do you like this new spot? did you get enough sun today? you seem sad, why?

you think you might fall in love with him all over again when he tends to his little garden. it’s impossible to miss exactly how much he cares for them, for his flowers and ferns and tiny fruit trees. 

(he’s so full of love, an endless well of deep-rooted empathy. it’s beyond you how people don’t see it, because when you look at him it’s all you can see.)

you’re eye to eye with nobu when he makes his way over to you, your feet swing lazily on either side of him when he settles between your thighs.

though you’ve done it one thousand times, he still blushes bright red when you go to cup his face in your palms and drop your forehead to his. you take a second to breathe him in. 

(he always smells so comforting, like fresh earth and the quiet early dawn.)

there’s so much you want to say, confessions buried deep in your chest, but for now you’ll just hold on to this moment for as long as he’ll let you. 

[saintshigaraki]

What do u think is Oikawa’s best and worst trait and how it translates to relationships?

oikawa is, in my personal opinion, one of the most complex characters in hq. i don’t think that's necessarily an unpopular thing to say but i wanted to preface everything else i write with that bc i’m sure other people will disagree with some of these which is totally fine because i think there are so, so many ways to interpret his character. i also wanted to preface this by saying i think my characterization of oikawa when writing him leans a bit towards the unpopular side of things, with good reason too as i’m 100 percent willing to admit i take a bit too many creative liberties with his character. 

i believe oikawa’s best qualities are his tenacity, perseverance, and his ability to bring out the absolute best in others. and i think those would all translate so well in a relationship. his tenacity and perseverance would help with pushing through rough patches down the road in longer-term relationships where others might’ve completely fallen apart simply because he doesn’t want to give up, and he doesn’t think he should have to. he’s the type to dig his heels in instead of letting go and walking away, no matter the amount of work. oikawa’s ability to bring out the best in others is something thats brought up in the anime multiple times, and for good reason. it’s a powerful skill and one he wields exceedingly well and in a relationship that’d translate to the ultimate power couple and teamwork duo. he’d be the king of fair compromises and uplifting his s/o. of knowing the exact right thing to say and when to say it (that also ties in with his ability to read others). 

the first thing that comes to mind when thinking about oikawa’s worst qualities is the rather obvious one: his pettiness, but i also think that ties into his overall ability to be decidedly cruel when he chooses to be. oikawa’s cruelty paired with his scary accurate way of picking out others' weak points would no doubt make him an absolute nightmare during fights. he has the ability to cut his s/o down with nothing but a few carefully crafted sentences and perfectly aimed jabs. i don’t even think he’d do it totally consciously either, he’s not actively trying to tear his s/o down, in fact if he threw out a few overly nasty words that happened to leave his s/o in tears i think he’d panic and immediately backtrack. he falls back onto his cruelty as a defense mechanism, like a cornered animal lashing out. it’s a fear response that his s/o might leave him, that he’s just not good enough, more than anything else. it doesn’t mean what he says wouldn’t hurt like hell though.

i’m sorry if this was overly long or too much rambling, i just love talking about oikawa. 

[saintshigaraki]

so true my dude....soft kyoutani is king and u should say it 😏

EXACTLY ANON!! your taste is ELITE <3

soft kyoutani who likes to take hour long drives with you after the sun has dipped below the horizon <3 soft kyoutani who wordlessly pushing you to the side so he’s the one closest to the street when you guys take walks <3 soft kyoutani who, after rough days, wants nothing more than to hear your voice. he’ll sit quietly and completely content as you talk about absolutely anything <3 soft kyoutani who kisses your forehead at least once every time he sees you after any time apart <3 soft kyoutani who sometimes struggles telling you exactly how much you mean to him but that's okay, because you can feel it in every touch, can see it in everything he does for you <3 

[saintshigaraki]

hey do u maybe have a masterlist of all ur works? 🥺

i’m currently working on setting up a mobile navigation and masterlist....so no i don’t right now rip sorry anon 💔

but all my work can be found on my blog under the tag #vicwrites and if ur looking for my bnha, jjk, or hq work specifically u can check the tags #vicwritesbnha / #vicwritesjjk / or #vicwriteshq