#fkfic

[splitpush]

natto-stuffed aburaage

ushiwaka's b-roll. 2 scenes during or after "plexus unraveling". lapslock / 600 words / rated r

1.

in the end, sakusa agreed to meet at the coffee shop.

he'd sounded ok on the phone. but sat now across the low table with a scalding cup of coffee pressed between his fingers, he looked like he 90 percent regretted it.

if it were anybody else, ushijima might've spared them both the anguish, and fronted some excuse to leave already. for example, there was a new meal prep recipe he found on the internet that he wanted to try. or maybe he still had practice, despite having just left the gym, and then barring his inability to lie about it for real, he would've headed back to the gym to tear up a cardio machine & waffle about the pendulum squat for another 20 minutes. his trainer would totally admonish him. you're overdoing it again, ushijima-senshu. no doubt it'll deal you a proper exercise injury one day. it was such a foreseeable thing, too.

but was that so bad. if arranging a sports injury manifested in an ex-boyfriend coming around to wait hand-and-foot on every spontaneous emotional whim that he had, then maybe ushijima welcomed it. what sort of injury could he suffer? maybe not anything career-ending, like a torn rotator cuff or a broken patella. he'd settle for a sprained joint. growing up ushijima's father had always praised himself for raising a son with very strong ligaments.

ushijima entertained the idea of spraining his elbow during his next match. was this what they called having an epiphany?

sakusa cleared his throat.

"i... maybe i should go."

which was a funny thing to say. the last time he had said that, they'd wound up in the backseat of ushijima's car, parked next to the wall in the south lot of the adlers' training facility. sakusa had worn the most exquisite expression on his face while one of his hands grasped at ushijima's hair, the other one working to stuff his moans back into his mouth as ushijima pressed his thighs deeper into the seat with every debilitating thrust of the hips.

sakusa's face flushed. likely his thoughts had similarly landed on that day, there or thereabouts. ushijima watched him bite his lip and say nothing. it was that kind of memory, after all.

for lack of breathing room in the space between them, ushijima stood up to order an espresso.

"how's the coffee here, is it any good?"

sakusa sipped his drink. his voice was rough. "it's nothing special."

2.

"you went to his house? to APOLOGIZE??" oikawa's voice boomed loudly over ushijima's speakerphone. "why the hell would you even DO that???"

"is there something wrong with what i did," said ushijima.

"is there something wrong with what i did," oikawa mocked him. "oh, i'm sure you're the FIRST person that miya atsumu wants to see. honest to god, ushiwaka, this is exactly why i broke up with you too."

ushijima frowned. "i thought we broke up because my penis was too small for you."

oikawa sputtered. a guffaw with matsukawa's issei's name written all over it broke out over his end of the line.

"obviously i was only-- you know what? forget it." oikawa sounded upset, genuinely. ushijima hadn't the faintest idea why. "seriously. why are you even calling me to talk about this? why are we even talking to each other. we stopped dating so long ago."

"you're the one who still wanted to be friends," ushijima reminded him.

"that's because i was trying to be the bigger person!" oikawa exclaimed, perhaps realizing at last how that was working out for him. the uncrinkled pride of it all.

*

#ushijima wakatoshi #sakusa kiyoomi #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!! #w #fkfic #kitsune udon never tasted so gooood

[splitpush]

"plexus unraveling" (hq!!)

—10k words of future!fic exes-to-exes sakuatsusaku. feat. sports injuries, food, and freeform tezuka kunimitsu. rated R for dubcon + some truly awful sadboi sex. —written for sakuatsu bigbang 2022, with art by the lovely teahex@! thank you!!

Live by your rehabilitation, and die by it too.

Locally-grown cabbage was so sweet. He lathered bite-sized pieces in more sauce until he was barely able to taste it through the coat of beer lined over his tongue. Sakusa continued to spread more batter onto the teppan, squeezing more hot sauce on Atsumu’s side of the monjayaki, and cooked it all wordlessly. They ate in silence. Atsumu finished his second beer. His memories started to eat at him then, and he wondered if the monja only tasted so good because the cabbage was so sweet, or if it was because the person who was making the food for him was an asshole who had stolen all of his aptitude for romance within the span of seven short years.

read on ao3

#haikyuu!! #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #tezuka kunimitsu #w #fkfic

[splitpush]

2 fic i wrote for a genshin exchange

forgot to x-post from ao3. both are sfw & written for the zhongchi/tartali discord server 2021 white day exchange.

1.

“a harbinger's home companion”  —2300w. canon compliant, mutual pining, on homecoming.

Between Scaramouche’s first plea bargain in Mondstadt, and the subsequent weeks spent scrubbing the Snezhnayan scent off another foiled terrorist plot on the Inazuma Bakufu, it took Childe three months to feel comfortable petitioning the Tsaritsa for a return voyage to Liyue.

Even so, perched now on a bench outside the Fatui’s Zapolyarny stronghold's debriefing room, he was hesitant to let so many sore spots dangle in plain air. Because there hadn't been any science to what he’d felt, when the doors of Northland Bank closed on his face that day. He’d been sitting here for four hours now, and his ass hadn’t gotten any warmer from brooding over missed conquests.

2.

“Like water for strawberries.”  —1600w. salaryman AU, reverse-chronological order, with fruit.

Give him a few more days, and Childe still won’t be able pinpoint when he’d become suspended mid air over two platforms. From this altitude either platform poses a steep drop, postmarked as fallen-out-of-love or not-quite-there-but-close. Across the duvet, Zhongli’s fingers are warm against his. Water from the hotel pool, thickened several centimetres by natural light, skims circles on the ceiling above their heads. Climbing back into his mind he can retrieve each detail vividly. Inciting violence on a Tuesday, laying down on a bed of roses at the tip of the hour. Near the end of each turn is a computable path back to the precise minute he’d last devastated himself.

Absently, he searches for a better way to describe what he’s feeling.

#genshin impact #tartaglia #zhongli #tartali #zhongchi #w #fkfic

[splitpush]

“To the Nonfictional You” (silver spoon)

—5000 words of pastoral opera feat. one-sided komaba/hachiken, hachiken/mikage + some vague komaba/kita shinsuke (hq!!) shuffled in there. the heart is a lonely hunter, my friends —cursory warning: fic is rated r for explicit sex and contains mentions of infidelity

We reap what we sow, Komaba Ichiro. Isn’t that the first lesson they teach you in agriculture school?

read on ao3

#silver spoon #gin no saji #komaba ichiro #hachiken yuugo #kita shinsuke #mikage aki #w #fkfic #my id vortex is spiraling

[splitpush]

“Morax by the Sea” (genshin/tartali)

—childe/zhongli feat. powerful bottom zhongli. this is a nsfw pwp sequel to “Tartaglia on the Shore”. includes fellatio, buttplugs, anal sex/riding, implied prostitution & mentioned switching

the pearl galley has a new listing on its connoisseur catalog.

read on ao3

#genshin impact #tartaglia #zhongli #tartali #w #fkfic #hbd geo daddy #i bear u the gift of tartaglias big fat c*ck

[splitpush]

“Tartaglia on the Shore” (genshin/tartali)

—zhongli/childe. “hurt”/comfort pre-slash, pg-13 for some mild cinema gore

the rex lapis comfort set, or whatever accompanies the mortal injuries you sustain from trying to save face in front of your kid brother. 

read on ao3

#genshin impact #tartaglia #childe #zhongli #tartali #w #fkfic

[splitpush]

“shangri-la” (mashiro no oto)

—950 words, post-canon pwp, sawamura wakana/ogata kousuke (kamiki seiryuu). rated R for sex + dirty talk.

There's nothing unholy about looking at one another. Simply let us agree on the state of flux we want to be in, and drive downstream the anomalies.

(Or, Wakana attends Kamiki Seiryuu's evening recital in Beijing.)

read on ao3

#mashiro no oto #these snow white notes #sawamura wakana #kamiki seiryuu #ogata kousuke #w #fkfic #feels good to christen a fandom w/ a pwp #i've always wanted to name a fic after a hotel

[splitpush]

🍓

kita-centric b-side to “the nonfictional you” 350w of lapslock / rated g

*

over the new year kita travels economy class into amur oblast, accompanied by a crate of strawberries that he’d had flown in from tochigi two days prior. which is as ridiculous as it sounds, having fresh fruit shipped to hyogo in a refrigerated box, only to then have it flown out further north to the middle of a rural russian oblast. almost as ridiculous as flying there by himself. almost as ridiculous as being in love.

“they’re delicious,” is the first thing komaba tells him, biting into the tip of a strawberry after kita has de-stemmed and washed a bowlful to set out on the kitchen table. together they dangle on a conversation about renovations to komaba’s farmhouse west of vladivostok, nursing a lull in the excitement of kita’s arrival and the fervent sex to make up for lost time. komaba’s farmhouse is a single-story construction, situated on the northwest corner of his parcel of government-leased farmland. the windows above the kitchen sink face the southeast, and past the weakened winter sun they are privy to an expanse of arable tundra, cleared of its crop past the regular soybean season. komaba stares out at the field as he says, “thank you for sharing these with me. i’ve forgotten the taste of strawberries from home. there’s nothing quite like this sweetness. how much did it cost you? they can’t have been cheap.”

“don’t wanna say,” kita shrugs, feeling at once committed and noncommitted to kissing the flavor of the fruit off komaba’s lips. komaba chews on the strawberry thoughtfully. the moment passes, and they talk about something else.

later, when they break up for good, kita buys himself a basket of tochigi-sourced strawberries from the supermarket. in his kitchen he bites into a strawberry and suddenly recalls that time he cried in high school, when he received his inarizaki volleyball team jersey for the first time. a bittersweet moment, one that he’d been sure he would remember for the rest of his life, but the memories of it now are as muted as the sweetness of the fruit on his tastebuds.

#kita shinsuke #komaba ichiro #silver spoon #haikyuu!! #w #fkfic #still sleeping in your strawberry dream

[splitpush]

残局可能性低 (hq!!)

~2000字，第二人称视角，成人+ 岩及，双方单人恋

没有留下来的原因。

你有一个异样性的妄想，也就是这样的：傍晚你习球后回到家，看到厨房的灯还亮着。在桌上摆着塑料棚遮盖着一盘饭，旁边贴着一张纸条上含有他的笔迹，说明了今晚饭里炖了几两瘦肉。你用微波炉丁完，默默沉沉的吃起来。嚼几口感到肉的味道有点淡，往饭里再撒一些盐。事到如今他仍没有掌握好基本的调料用法。过一阵子，他从浴室里走出来。头发还湿着，上衣都没穿下面也就持着一条薄薄的毛巾。“回来啦，徹，”他轻声道，之后就与你接吻，把满身子水滴到你的脸和衣服上。你唠叨他把你弄的湿透了。但你会继续的去吻他。

阅读 : ao3

lengthy notes in english about this story under the cut.

the english title of this story is “endgame unlikely”.

....so this was mostly an exercise/attempt to breath some life back into my prose. i wrote this story alternating between eng/zhy drafts, and re-translated both versions back and forth a few times before i thought it was ok to serve. the goal was to keep an eye on how i form sentences thru the lens of a language that is not my strong suit. i’ve never written anything substantial in chinese except for some short essays forced onto me when i was a child, lol. i’m not heavily involved in chinese fandom or culture at all so i’m sure there’s some awkward wording as it is.

writing this prompted several moments of clarity, particularly whenever i needed to pare my ideas down. i found it difficult to form english sentences into digestible phrases in chinese, but going from chinese to english was not as bad. this is probably due to my own relationship with both languages. either way it was fun.

i don’t have super intense feelings about this pairing. the premise of the story is also quite simple. but i do enjoy thinking about an insufferable oikawa quietly tasting the consequences of pursuing his childhood dream over staying tied down to any (dumb!!) romantic feelings. the r-rated scene in chinese was surprisingly easy to write compared to how i typically struggle w/ writing porn in english... lol idk how i feel about that honestly

i may end up posting the english version of the fic but i don’t think it will be a 1:1 translation. i like the chinese version much better so i posted it on its own.

#haikyuu!! #岩及 #iwaoi #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #w #fkfic

[splitpush]

“luft HORiZON” (hq!!)

~2k words of alternating kindaichi/kageyama + matsukawa/kunimi, in the style of a king’s pawn sacrifice

8 months chronicling our attempts to avoid a back-rank checkmate.

read on ao3

#haikyuu!! #kunimi akira #kindaichi yuutarou #matsukawa issei #kinkage #matsukuni #oikawa tooru #w #fkfic #can't stop won't stop: edgy titles edition #this fic consummates my relationship w/ giving & taking dating advice

[splitpush]

“atypical flower viewing” (saezuru tori)

semi-explicit doumeki/yashiro post-slash, told from the perspective of ryuuzaki

Ryuuzaki gets out of prison, and continues his winning streak.

read on ao3

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #twittering birds never fly #yoneda kou #yashiro #ryuuzaki atsushi #doumeki chikara #w #fkfic

[splitpush]

—300 words of Saeko/Hitoka, for Day 2 of @haikyuurarepairweek2020 | “space”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuurarepairweek2020 #tanaka saeko #yachi hitoka #w #fkfic #hitoka-chan gets carsick

[splitpush]

—350 words of Saeko/Hitoka (post-relationship), for Day 5 of @haikyuurarepairweek2020​ | “station”

—can be read as a sequel to summer tourism

#haikyuu!! #haikyuurarepairweek2020 #tanaka saeko #yachi hitoka #w #fkfic

[splitpush]

—745 words of Oikawa/Tsukishima, for Day 3 of @haikyuurarepairweek2020 | Celebrity AU

#haikyuu!! #haikyuurarepairweek2020 #oikawa tooru #tsukishima kei #w #fkfic

[splitpush]

オイ-メシ!! ~simple japanese homestyle cooking~

1400 words of kindaichi/oikawa & kunimi gen, à la future fic / celebrity AU. closely based on Mizushima Hiro's soccer vlog and his online cooking show Hiro-Meshi.

never underestimate the support of a longstanding fanbase.

Oikawa asked to borrow the court over Instagram, which would have been fine, generally speaking. What made it not fine was the inherent suspicion attached to a celebrity handle with 1.2 million followers, sending a DM out of the blue to somebody as random as Kindaichi. But it was also Oikawa Tooru, whom he had idolized throughout his most formative years spent crying on a volleyball court. How was Kindaichi supposed to react? Was he even allowed to refuse?

read on ao3

#haikyuu!! #oikawa tooru #kindaichi yuutarou #kunimi akira #w #fkfic #senpai noticed you but pretends not to because he's an asshole

[splitpush]

gone with the last piece of furniture in the room that the two of you rented in those summer months between the two Miamis, one of which was home to his fondness for you and the other of which still had those dumb dreams blinking rapidly between your knees

sfw tony stark/stephen strange, 600 words written last year after i saw infinity war. i think i was gonna write more but i gave up ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

1 out of the 14-million-whatever endings and this is the only one where he won’t love you back, now how’s that for a fucking storybook ending?

Busan had been largely unpleasant. Seoul had gotten him hammered, or sufficiently impaired to the point that his fingers had stopped tapping random patterns into the next airplane armrest and his astral form had demanded if his brain could, for the first time in two years, maybe shut the fuck up. Stephen could count those blessings for what they were. But now it was Busan, it was miserable November wind whipping the sand off of Haeundae beach and into his hair as he wandered along the shoreline, and it was more miserable thoughts collecting in the pocket of his brain where the engine was still running.

It wasn’t like Stephen hadn’t tried to power himself down. The engine had been hotwired by a different mechanic to tick at a different pace than what he was used to. The mechanic hadn’t even done that good of a job. Stephen could have wired it so much better.

He spent the rest of the evening soaking on the third floor of a jjimjilbang, overlooking that same beach, the darkened horizon dimming in and out of view through the vapor-smudged glass covering the entire south wall of the building. Nobody paid him much attention or due intrigue, likely a result of the influx of foreign tourists and backpackers that liked to frequent this particular joint, but probably moreso due to the five-metre radius of reflective panels confining his presence to the mirror dimension. It could never pay to be too safe, especially now that his name had been tacked onto the flashiest superhero roster this side of the multiverse. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a permanent television fixture like Steve Rogers or Tony Stark; nothing like that mattered, pending all the shit that had gone down that summer. If S.H.I.E.L.D. was still standing, he might even have been strong-armed into a ridiculous situation with some obsequious security detail by now, so he was thankful for that.

Briefly, he wondered if ending #6,000,604 would have been a better option. Then he remembered that Tony would have died 6 times over in that one, so never mind. OK, no, scratch that. Did they all forget that Stephen had died 2,956 times via timeloop to Dormammu the autumn before that? Of course they did. Martyrdom meant nothing to the ungrateful bastards living in this time structure.

But Tony knew better, was the thing. And Stephen knew that Tony knew better.

It was a weekend on another beach, in California. It was Stephen closing the door on the last bit of apprehension before he took the next step forward, it was Tony texting him that he could fly in by Friday for drinks and a quick fuck in the queen bed sitting in the rented room, it was Tony forgetting to mention that he was still in the middle of breaking off an engagement, it was Tony forgetting all of anything, everything. Stephen didn’t care. He hadn’t cared for a few months up until that particular juncture, but that in itself likely accelerated the melodrama.

“I want to tell you something,” he told Stephen at that point. “But I might come off as too gauche. Do you care?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” said Stephen. And then he’d kissed Tony to keep his mouth shut.

In the middle of the night he woke up to something hot pressed up against his chest, a prickle of emotion escaping the chasm that widened its gap during the daylight and burrowed itself deep into the miserable pocket in his brain. It was Tony’s lips, mouthing words that he was certain Stephen would never hear in time structures that would allow it. Love you, he felt Tony mutter into his ribcage, lips barely moving but reverberating just enough that the bones covering his heart could read the sentiment, and he knew then that Tony knew better. Tony knew better, and could do better.

He let the circumstances of the 14,000,605th possibility play out, after that.

#ironstrange #tony stark #doctor strange #marvel #infinity war #w #fkfic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯¯\_(ツ)_/¯¯\_(ツ)_/¯