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I literally forgot to post about it but anyways here i am now, letting my lovely readers know that I’ll no longer post fics in here and i moved to @purplewormy ‼️ which is my main blog. i just don’t want to run two blogs, id rather be active on the one i can interact with and maybe I'll continue apple and selcouth there <3
And when you get embarrassed and try to dig your face into the pillow to muffle the sounds tearing from your throat as he drives into you deeper, he says “Isn’t it too late baby?,” chuckling darkly, “I think i saw their light flick on two orgasms ago.”
Your rio apartment was filled with the scent of salt from the nearby beach and the faint, sweet aroma of the papaya you'd both eaten for lunch. Hinata was sitting on the floor, back against the couch, scrolling through his phone with an intense look of concentration.
“Okay! I got it,” he announced, his voice full of the bright confidence that always made your heart do a little flip. He scrambled to his knees in front of where you were curled up on the couch, his orange hair a wild halo in the dim light. “I'm going to teach you the most important phrase.”
You raised an eyebrow, setting your book aside. “More important than 'Onde fica o banheiro'?”
“Way more important,” he insisted, his brown eyes wide and earnest. “This is for... for emergencies. For when you need to flirt with someone to get something.”
“Why would i flirt, why can't you do it?”
“Because you’re pretty.”
“So are you?”
He took a deep breath, completely ignoring you for now, “Repeat after me: Seus peixes são muito laranja.”
You squinted at him. “Say-whatsa are very what?”
“Seus peixes,” he said slowly, over enunciating each syllable. “São muito laranja.”
You couldn't help but laugh at his serious expression. “Okay, okay. Seus peixes são muito laranja.” You mimicked his pronunciation, the foreign words feeling clumsy on your tongue.
“Perfect!” he beamed, looking ridiculously proud. “It means, 'Your eyes are like the sunset, so beautiful and bright.' It's very poetic.”
Your heart melted a little. That was actually incredibly sweet. “Really? Wow, Shoyo, that's beautiful.”
“I know, right!” he puffed out his chest. “i have a way with words. Now, you have to say it to me. With feeling!”
You leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands. His skin was warm, and he leaned into your touch like a contented cat. You looked directly into his bright, captivating eyes and said with as much emotion as you could muster, “Seus peixes são muito laranja.”
He blinked, his smile faltering for just a fraction of a second. A flicker of confusion crossed his face before he caught himself and plastered the grin back on. “S-See? Perfect. You're a natural.”
The next day, you decided to test your new linguistic skills. You were at a small cafe, the one with the amazing pastel de nata, and the elderly owner, a kind woman named Isabela, was refilling your coffee. Remembering Hinata's lesson and wanting to practice, you gave her your most charming smile.
“Obrigada,” you said, thanking her for the coffee. Then, you leaned in conspiratorially. “And you know, Seus peixes são muito laranja.”
Isabela froze, the coffee pot hovering over your cup. She stared at you, her brow furrowed in utter bewilderment. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, followed by a hearty, booming laugh that made the other patrons look over. “Meu peixe? Menina, eu não tenho um peixe!” she gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. “My fish? Girl, I don't have a fish!”
Your face went from warm to burning hot in about two seconds flat.
Later, you were storming towards your rio apartment when you saw hinata was right outside with his bicycle.
The second you were infront of him, your face turned crimson again.
“Shoyo! You lied to me!”
He looked at you, completely lost. “Lied about what?”
“i tried what you taught me to isabela, and said it means 'Your fish is very orange'!” you exclaimed, swatting his arm. “She doesn't even own a fish!”
It took a moment for the realization to dawn on his face. His eyes widened in horror, and then a choked sound escaped his throat. He tried to hold it back, really he did, but a second later he bent double, howling with laughter. It was the kind of full body, uninhibited laugh that was so contagious you couldn't stay mad.
“Oh my god,” he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “I must have.. I must have mixed it up! Oh, wow. I am so sorry.”
You were laughing too now, the sheer absurdity of the situation washing over you. “You are the worst Portuguese teacher in the entire world.”
“i know, I know,” he said, finally straightening up, still chuckling. He pulled out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen. “Okay, for real this time. Let's find the right one.”
He sat down on a nearby bench, patting the space next to him. You plopped down, still giggling, and leaned your head on his shoulder as he typed. He found a phrase and showed you the screen.
“Okay,” he said, his voice softer now. “Try this one. Seus olhos são lindos.”
You read the translation: 'Your eyes are beautiful.'
You looked from the phone to his face, to his earnest, apologetic, and utterly adorable expression. You leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“Seus olhos são lindos, Shoyo,” you whispered.
And this time, when he blushed, you knew you'd gotten it exactly right.
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SEDUCE YOUR WAY THROUGH ! — kyotani kentaro. MINORS DNI.
cw: rockstar!reader, dealer!kyotani, drugs, dirty talk, basically you letting dealer!kyotani fuck for free drugs, degradation (?)
“That was absolute shit,” you snarled, raking a hand through your sweat soaked hair. The roar of the crowd was still a phantom echo in your ears as you slammed the door to the cramped backstage room, the flimsy metal shuddering in its frame.You paced the small space, your boots scuffing on the sticky floor.
Hanamaki, lounging on the couch with a lazy grace that always pissed you off, didn't even look up from his phone. “It was a sold out show, and they were chanting for an encore. You're being dramatic.”
“Dramatic? Makki, I fucked up the bridge in 'Wraith'! I could hear it, you could hear it, the whole damn city probably heard it! We sounded like a garage band having a seizure!”
You hated this. The post show crash was a bitch, and without anything to take the edge off, it was a thousand times worse.
“you're a perfectionist rockstar. You always think it's shit,” he said, finally pocketing his phone and looking at you “It was fine. You were electric. Now, what's really wrong?”
You stopped pacing and slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on the grimy floor. “I'm out,” you whispered, “Completely. And I'm broke until the promoter clears the payout.”
Makki's expression softened slightly. “Ah. Shit. What happened to your boy? The one with the pretty face?”
“Arrested. Some big bust downtown. Cops raided his apartment while he was probably organizing his sock drawer by color or some shit. And now I'm fucked. He always gave me a discount on good stuff, you know? Said my eyes were ‘captivating’.” You rolled your eyes so hard you almost gave yourself a headache. “Easy target. But now I've got nothing.”
Kuroo was a good target. You had no idea why that nerd even selled those, but at least it was easier to seduce him. Bat your pretty eyelashes at him? 50% discount. Show your cleavage a little or cross your arms around your chest? Totally free.
Makki was quiet for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. “I might have someone. A guy. Not.. not like your pretty boy, though. I could request to lower the prices, no idea if he'll listen.”
You perked up, a desperate glimmer of hope cutting through your misery. “yeah? Who?”
“Name's Mad Dog.”
You snorted. “Mad Dog? What is he, a professional wrestler?”
“Something like that,” Makki said, a smirk playing on his lips. “He's the real deal. No discounts, no bullshit. But top-tier stuff, i don’t think he’s gonna fall for your tricks.”
A challenge. That was something you could work with. A slow grin spread across your face, the first genuine one all night. “Oh yeah? We'll see about that.”
Makki laughed, a deep, knowing sound. “i bet you a hundred bucks you walk out of there with a free sample and your panties still twisted in a knot.”
"You're on, Hanamaki. You're on."
The next evening, you found yourself standing in front of a derelict warehouse down by the docks, the salt heavy air clinging to your leather jacket. Makki's text had been simple: ‘Warehouse 7. He’s not lowering the prices but good luck trying.’
The metal door groaned as you pushed it open, stepping into the cavernous, dust choked space. Shafts of dying light pierced through grimy windows, illuminating floating particles and the silhouette of a man leaning against a concrete pillar.
Holy shit.
He was tall, all lean muscle and coiled tension. A shock of bleached blond hair with two stark black stripes above his ears. He wore a simple black tank top that showcased his inked arms, one of which was a full sleeve of intricate, snarling dogs. His eyes, when they lifted to meet yours, were a startling, intense gold. They weren't pretty like your previous one, they were hot.
“You Makki's friend?”His voice was a low gravel, rough and unused to pleasantries.
“The one and only,” you replied, your voice coming out smoother than you expected. You walked closer, your hips swaying just slightly. “You must be Mad Dog.”
You stopped a few feet from him, tilting your head to get a better look at the tattoo on his forearm. “Sick ink. That's a lot of dogs.”
“it’s a pack.”
“Right, a pack.” you say leaning against the piller, “So what’s on the menu, Mad dog? I need something to smooth the edge off.”
He shifted his weight, his business like mask sliding into place. “Depends what you're looking to smooth. For a clean, floaty high, I've got some prime ketamine. Special K. Two-fifty a gram. Dissolves the world right out from under you, no comedown to speak of. Good for when you just want to fucking disappear for a couple hours.”
You listened, feigning casual interest while your mind raced. Ketamine was a hole, not a solution.
“If you need to get up and stay up,” he continued, his voice flat, “I've got uncut base. Not that stepped on crap most people are selling. This is pure, crystalline. It'll turn your brain into a high voltage wire and keep you humming for a day. Easy. Three hundred a gram, but it'll last you. Makes you feel like a god, until you don't.”
“Two-fifty for K? Three hundred for base?” You let out a low whistle, shaking your head. “That's highway robbery, Mad Dog. I know what this shit goes for on the street.”
His gold eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “I don't sell street shit. I sell purity. You want stepped on garbage, go find some punk in an alley. You want the best, you pay my price. End of story.”
You pushed off the pillar, taking a deliberate step closer. “That's a shame,” you purred, letting your eyes drift down his body before meeting his intense gaze again. “I was hoping we could... come to some other arrangement.”
As you spoke, you crossed your arms beneath your breasts, pushing them up slightly. His eyes flickered down for just a second before catching himself. Gotcha.
“i don't fuck for product, lady,” he growled, his voice even rougher than before.
“Who said anything about fucking?” You moved into his personal space, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear. “Maybe because you're thinking about it.”
Your hand flattened against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heart beneath your palm. Slowly, deliberately, you slid it lower, over the hard planes of his stomach. His breath hitched.
“Don't,” he warned, but it was weak, half hearted.
You smirked against his ear. “Don't what?” Your fingers danced along the waistband of his jeans. ”Don't stop?”
“Fuck,” he breathed, his head tilting back slightly. “Don't stop.” You palmed him through the denim, feeling him twitch and harden beneath your touch.
“Look at you, Mad Dog,” you taunted softly, your thumb rubbing circles over his growing erection. “All tough talk, but you're just like any other guy. Ready to trade your precious product for a little attention.” Your hand squeezed him gently.
His eyes snapped open, burning with fury. “What did you just—”
Whatever he was about to say dissolved into a groan as your hand moved faster, stroking him inside his jeans with practiced precision.
His hips bucked involuntarily, chasing your touch. The anger in his expression warred with pure, unadulterated lust. You could see the internal battle playing out across his features.
“God, you're—” he started, his voice strained.
Before he could finish, you pulled away abruptly, turning your back to him. You glanced over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips as you bent forward slightly, presenting your ass to him. "Cat got your tongue?"
That was all it took. In a flash, he was behind you, his hands rough as they grabbed your hips, fumbling with your button and zipper. Your jeans pooled around your ankles along with his a moment later. The cool air hit your exposed skin for only a second before the hot, thick head of his cock was pressing against your entrance.
“Changed my mind,” he growled in your ear. “I'll take what I want.”
He slammed into you without warning, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. “Ah—fuck!” you cried out, your hands flying out to brace against the concrete pillar. He was bigger than you'd expected, stretching you deliciously, painfully.
His rhythm was punishing from the start, hard, deep strokes that had your whole body jolting forward with each thrust. One hand remained on your hip, holding you in place while the other snaked around to rub rough circles against your clit. Your knees went weak, pleasure coiling tight in your belly.
“You like that, don't you?” he grunted, his breath hot against your neck. “Like being fucked like the little tease you are.”
His hand moved up from your clit to roughly palm your breast, pinching your nipple through your thin shirt.
“So desperate for a fix you'd bend over for a stranger in a warehouse.”
“Yes—yes,” you moaned, pushing back against him. “Harder!”
His cock was better than any drugs you’d taken.
He obliged, his hips snapping faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the cavernous space. His fingers twisted your nipple harder, sending a jolt straight to your core. “That's it, take it. Take every fucking inch.”
The dual sensations of him pounding into you from behind while his hands worked your body sent you spiraling toward the edge. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your moans growing louder, more desperate.
“please—please” you begged, not even sure what you were asking for.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice strained. “Come all over my cock like the desperate little thing you are.”
That was all it took. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as pleasure washed through every nerve. “Ah—Mad dog!” you screamed, his name tearing from your throat without permission.
Your walls clenching around him seemed to be his undoing. With a guttural groan, he pulled out, and you felt hot stripes of cum painting your ass cheeks. Painting your cheeks with white liquid, he stood there for a moment, panting heavily while he adored his work on you.
The only sound in the warehouse your ragged breaths.
As you were still catching your breath, you heard the crinkle of foil. He pressed a small packet into your hand. You looked down at it, then back at him.
“i didn't say which one I wanted,” you pointed out, your voice hoarse.
A smirk touched his lips. “I can tell.”
You opened the packet to find a crystalline white powder. Exactly what you needed to smooth the edge after a show like tonight's. Exactly what your inclined ass needed.
“This is the last time,” he said, already pulling his jeans back up. “Next time im charging you.”
You couldn’t help but smirk at this, another challenge. “We’ll see.” you say, winking at him.
But you were still shaking as you pulled up your own pants, your legs feeling like jelly.
This Mad Dog guy had completely destroyed you. but hey at least you got free drugs and you’re hundred bucks richer now.
FAKE BF!ATSUMU MIYA, whom you always thought hated you, since he always gave you mean looks or ignored you since the moment you met him. It was a surprise when he asked you to be his partner.
"What?" you dropped the water bottle from surprise. He hasn't talked to you for more than two words in these years, and now he comes with this. He stared at you, nonchalantly, "Are you deaf? I asked you if you wanted to be my partner"
FAKE BF!ATSUMU MIYA confessed that he asked you to pretend to date him so that his ex would want to get him back. When you asked him why he chose you, he honestly replied that it's because his ex hates you, and it would drive her crazy.
"Wow, I expected you to hate me, not her," you admitted. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your comment. "I never hate you; I’ve always thought you were too cool for me." His words took you by surprise, and before you could respond, he continued, "Anyways, are you going to help me or not?" You nodded in agreement.
FAKE BF!ATSUMU MIYA finally decided to make your relationship "official" after a match where he dedicated the win to you. Following that heartfelt confession, you both became the it couple. Your plans started to unfold smoothly, and he turned out to be a better boyfriend than you had expected..
“Why are you here? I told you I couldn’t assist with the party today because I have the flu,” you said to Atsumu, still standing at the entrance. “I brought soup and medicine,” he replied, holding up a bag. “There’s no need for that,” you insisted. He shrugged his shoulders. “You’re my bae; of course, I’m going to take care of you.” “That’s the cringiest thing you’ve ever told me,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just take the damn soup,” he urged.
FAKE BF!ATSUMU MIYA played his role so convincingly that you started developing feelings for him. However, what could you do? He seemed to only have eyes for his ex, or at least that’s what you thought.
At a party, while waiting for Atsumu to bring you your favorite drink, you accidentally bumped into his ex-girlfriend. She shot you the dirtiest look and threw her drink on you. Unable to hold back, you said, “I don’t understand why you’re being so rude.” As you took a napkin to clean yourself, she responded, “You were the main reason Atsumu and I broke up.” Surprised, you asked, “Pardon?” She continued, “He was always talking about you, and it drove me mad. Now back off!”
FAKE BF!ATSUMU MIYA finally confessed to you that there was no intention of getting back with his ex. This was all just an excuse for him to talk to you, as he didn't know how to approach you. Each time he tried to engage in conversation, it would end up going wrong or he would come across as upset with you.
"But hey, in the end, everything turned out well. You realized I'm a catch, I fell even more in love with you, and no one got hurt," he said with a smile. "But my shirt got ruined." you answered upset "I'll buy you a new one." "You’re lucky you’re cute."
Get an ask in my inbox -> read it -> "oh, that's nice; I need to think of a good response" -> "this deservea more attention than I can give it rn; I'll take another look at it later" -> close inbox until later -> "later" never really comes -> forget -> repeat
I WANT TO KISS YOU BUT PLEASE DON’T LOOK AT ME IM DISGUSTING — kita shinsuke
You are a bad person. You have always been one. You deserve nothing good in life. You deserve nothing but grief in life. You hurt others, you hurt yourself. You hurt their feelings, you hurt your soul.
You are a bad person. You tell yourself everyday. You could have done it better. You could have been a better person.
You could have taken better care of your pets. You could have helped the homeless man. You could have been kind to the elderly. You could have controlled your anger. You could have not screamed at your father. You could have never ignored your mother.
You are a demanding creature. You are cruel and selfish.
“Whats on your mind?” you are sitting barefoot on the grass with your knees up, watching the sun set and the green grass turn a shade of yellow you always adored. Beside you sat Kita Shinsuke. His one hand on your back.
“i think im a bad person.” you whisper.
“why?” he turns his head to you.
“i have been horrible.”
He stays quiet for a while, the wind blows, making the grass dance under your legs.
“all humans are horrible.” he says, finally.
“no, no - i am different.”
“all humans are animal.”
“you don’t get it-”
Kita’s hand slid down from your back, his fingers grazing your side before finding your hand resting in the grass. He didn't grab it firmly, he just let his fingers slide against yours, a slow, tentative crawl until your palms finally met.
“you are not a bad person, you are just an animal living life for the first time.” he whispers. You don’t pull away. Instead, you let out a long, quiet breath you didn't know you were holding. You shifted slightly, tilting your weight toward him until your head found the familiar notch of his shoulder.
You remember it. You remember being 8 years old and stealing money from your father's wallet. You remember being 12 years old ignoring your friend all day because she did something you didn’t like. You remember being 14 when you stopped talking to everyone. When you left texts unread for months never realizing what they felt. You remember being 18 and pushing away your mother, when all she had was you.
You remember being a terrible daughter, a terrible friend, and a terrible stranger.
“im not a good person either.”
He adjusted, tucking his chin closer to the top of your head as you settled in. The grass prickled against your legs and the air was cooling down.
“You are my person. And that's enough.”
Even if you never managed to lov yourself, you are loved by someone else, unconditionally so. You are loved by someone who'll hold your dirty fingers and kiss your alcohol drenched lips. Who’ll love your scars and scratches and your disgusting skin.
Kita shinsuke had and would always loved you the way you were. Even if you try to push him away like you did with others, he’ll never stop loving you.
You look at the sky and wonder how suddenly the universe became kinder to you.
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CONTENT: after moving to the prestigious college in town, falling in love with your half brother's best friend was not something you’d expect. considering he was such a dickhead.
INCLUDES: enemies to lovers. mostly written. bullying. discrimination between rich and poor. mention of messy affairs. absent parents. mommy issues. heavy angst. hurt/comfort. sensitive content. messy family. reader being considered a ‘mistake’. dark content, drugs, smoking, drinking, mention of depression, suicide. ooc characters, flawed characters, past trauma,fighting, blood. swearing, adult language, toxic behaviours.
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introductions — yn | suna
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | + ongoing
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hihihi beautiful!! my day's been eh not that bad, a bit stressed with college work rn and kind of overwhelmed, lots of stuff happening around me but it could be worse so yeah its good for now!! WBY??
the sun sits low, all honeyed and warm, when she finds him in the rice field. where he always is.
kita’s sleeves are rolled neat to his elbows, straw hat shadowing his eyes as he checks the water levels — carefully and methodically, like the land itself has a soul only he could understand. brown mud kisses the hems of his pants.
he doesn’t notice her at first, too focused on making sure everything is right.
“Shin!” she called out his name. making him look up immediately
there’s a smile — soft and reserved just for her. it always managed to make her chest ache in the best way.
“finished already?” he asks, voice gentle, feet still dipped in mud.
she nods stepping closer, basket in one hand, shoes sinking slightly into the damp earth. he reaches for her without thinking, hands warm and rough, when she wrinkles her nose at the mud on his palms, he chuckles quietly and wipes them on his pants.
“sorry,” he says, “habit.” she smiles at him, carefully setting the basket down on the narrow path between the paddies. the strawberries inside are bright and red, still cool from her garden, a few leaves clinging stubbornly to their stems.
kita’s eyes flick to them. he hums thoughtfully.
“these look good,” he says, crouching a little to inspect them. placing his hat near it, “you picked them at the right time. if you wait even a day longer, the sugar content drops and they soften too quickly.”
she blinks.
“you just.. know all that from one glance..?”
he tilts his head, not really answering her, earnest. “it’s important. fruit timing affects texture and-”
“nerd,” she whispers fondly, cutting him off. smiling to herself.
he pauses and looks up at her now.
“…is that an insult?”
she laughs and nudges his shoulder with her knee. “only a little one.”
for a moment, he seems to consider it — then, very deliberately, he reaches into the basket, plucks a strawberry, and holds it just out of her reach.
“then one strawberry comes with that.”
“hey!” she lunges for it, foot slipping slightly on the damp earth. he steadies her without even thinking, hand firm at her waist, but not before she smears a bit of mud onto his sleeve in retaliation.
he looks down at it. then at her.
“i know you did that on purpose, by the way.”
she grins. “maybe.”
he sighs, deeply long-suffering, but there’s a smile threatening to break free. he reaches for her wrist, just enough to keep her close, and presses the strawberry to her lips.
“open,” he says.
she does, smiling, and he feeds it to her, thumb brushing her chin when juice escapes. the wind interrupts them, her hair covers her face as the golden light hit it. And kita thinks this — this is the most beautiful creation on earth despite any field, any mountain or any sunset he had ever seen in his lifetime.
he cradles her face in his hands. thinking about the quote his grandmother once said — how there will always be a person who’d look like a poem earth wrote to keep you alive.
And they both stayed like this. grown up, yet children at heart. until she leans in and steals another from the basket herself.
“careful.” he warns her — just in case — so she doesn’t slip into the mud.
she pops a strawberry into her mouth, then, on impulse, leans forward and presses the bitten edge against his lips. “your turn.”
he hesitates just a heartbeat, then takes a careful bite, avoiding her fingers like he always does, polite to a fault.
she squints at him. “you know,” she says, reaching for another from the basket, “for someone who works in mud all day, you’re very particular.”
“someone has to be, and hey at least..” he continues softly. “you didn’t splash water on me this time.”
“that was one time!”
“three times — to be exact.” he said, pulling her cheeks slightly.
she laughs, “you’re lying.” and before she can pull away, he reaches out again, steady hands sliding to her waist, thumbs warm through the thin fabric of her clothes. not trapping her. just holding her there, like he always does when he wants to be close but won’t say it out loud.
the field is calm again. the water still, the rice swaying faintly. he presses a soft kiss to her forehead, mud, sun, and sweetness clinging to them both, and lets her go only when she nudges him away, smiling.
“don’t forget to wash up before dinner, farmer.”
he watches her walk off, basket lighter, steps bright, and turns back to his field with a small smile. thinking that nothing he grows tastes half as good as the life they’re building together.
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