Ukai making his move on the Karasuno science teacher
Ukai who meets you one afternoon after you storm into practice with a vengeance. You angrily call out Kageyama and Hinata’s name. Meanwhile, the first-year duo look like they want the ground to swallow them whole.
Ukai who tries to intervene to figure out who exactly you are but decides better. You’re downright terrifying, but he can’t help but think it’s hot.
Ukai who finds out from the second-years that you’re the first-year science teacher. Tanaka visibly shudders when talking about your class. He passed with exactly what he needed.
Ukai who would love to get to know you better but isn’t sure how to approach you. He doesn’t know what a conversation starter would be for his volleyball players’ science teacher.
Ukai who should be upset he sees you so often. You barge into practice at least once a week to drag either Hinata or Kageyama for makeups. You ruin the flow of any practice games they have, but he can’t bring himself to complain.
Ukai who finally is able to strike up a conversation when he’s taking a smoke break and sees you pass by. He puts out his cigarette and calls out a greeting.
Ukai who gets so absorbed in the conversation with you that he forgets he was in the middle of practice. He barks out for the team to do a lap of diving drills when Daichi asks for him. After, he asks if you would like to grab dinner with him.
Ukai who’s quick to make the relationship official. You’re a catch, and he’s not going to be stupid and let you go.
Ukai who feels like a high schooler again when he sneaks a peck on your lips before you storm inside the gym to pull out the wonder duo.
Ukai who knows his family will flip out when he brings you home. The second his family meets you he’ll hear an onslaught of ‘when’s the wedding?’ or the dreaded question ‘when are you having kids?’. He wants that long term, but he’s also not in a rush.
Ukai who melts on the spot when he sees you in the stands cheering him on during one of Karasuno’s games. The team is shocked when he pulls you in for a kiss after they win. The bus ride back is practically an interrogation.
Ukai who may have jumped the gun and already bought an engagement ring. It’s in his room on his nightstand. His family was right, when you know, you know.
You shouldn't get so close. You shouldn't flirt so blatantly. You'll blame it on the alcohol later. You've had a rough night, and Ukai looks like exactly what you need to wind down after the clubbing fiasco you just survived.
KEISHIN UKAI X FEM! TEACHER! READER | strangers to lovers, miscommunications, smut (mdni), pet names (baby, teach), shotgunning, semi-public, drunk sex, car sex, piv, creampie, light degradation, reader is mean to ukai but he's into it. wordcount: 6k | read on ao3
a/n: special tag for @xiaoale who inspired the title :33 i hope u like breathing his cigarette smoke …
"Hey, you can't smoke on school property."
The late spring air is warm all around you, with the sun eagerly beaming down, and the air smelling like flowers and new beginnings.
And cigarette smoke. You scrunch your nose.
The man outside the school gym has blonde spiky hair and pierced ears. He's hot, in the kind of way you appreciated in your teens. You'd definitely been drooling over him in high school. Maybe in university too.
Today, you aren't. You're actually pretty annoyed because it's way too late for some random dude to be loitering around the school grounds, and after spending all evening grading papers, you just want to go home.
He turns to you, raising a brow.
"Sorry, I didn't know," he says, but he doesn't put the cigarette out. You can faintly hear the thuds of volleyballs being spiked from inside the gym, and you glance behind him. The man notices and smiles.
"Sorry. We're training."
"You're training?" you ask, unimpressed. He nods.
"Volleyball."
You raise a brow. It's no secret that the Karasuno volleyball club is not very good. You've only been working at Karasuno for two years, so you haven't ever seen the team in its glory days, but even so, you don't remember the team having a blonde-haired coach.
Surely, you would've noticed a guy like him.
The call of your name stops you, and you see Takeda appearing out of nowhere. Instantly relaxing, you smile, greeting your colleague.
"This is Coach Ukai," Takeda introduces.
You take the opportunity to look this coach Ukai up and down again, silently appreciating his broad shoulders and clearly athletic build. You're still a little annoyed, though, so you push those thoughts away.
"I thought Coach Ukai was older," you say. There's a lilt in your voice now that Takeda is here too. Ukai doesn't miss it, though the man beside him is oblivious. The instant change in your demeanour bothers him, for some reason. Why are you so icy with him when you have no problem being kind to your coworker? Takeda laughs, waving his hands in front of him.
"Oh yes, this is his grandson."
You nod, and Ukai smiles at you again, taking one final drag of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and putting it out with his shoe. You frown at the action.
"You still can't smoke here." You stare pointedly down at the cigarette butt before you meet Ukai's gaze again. Takeda begins to apologise profusely, bowing to you. You shake your head, smiling.
"It's no worries! Now you know." You beam before you give Ukai one last look. Then you turn around, walking back towards where you were headed before you spotted the coach smoking.
God, Ukai already thinks he needs another cigarette.
Autumn comes, and much to your dismay, you don't manage to avoid flu season. You wake with a thrumming headache and your whole body hurting, and you groan into your pillow, dreading calling in sick.
You spend the morning and midday in your bed, wrapped in blankets, but eventually the hunger becomes too big to ignore. Staring into your empty fridge, you sigh loudly, wincing when another pang of pain shudders through your body.
Convenience store it is.
You don't usually frequent the convenience store that's closest to your apartment, instead opting for the one near your school since it's easier to do on your way home. Which is why you stop dead in your tracks when you enter the store, making eye contact with the blonde man standing at the register.
Ukai's eyes trail down your form. You suddenly feel self-conscious, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a baggy tee with a suspicious stain on it. You haven't done much to your hair either, and you think there might be several strands sticking in directions they usually don't.
"You done checking me out?" you ask as you begin to walk towards the cup noodle aisle. The blonde man trails after you, but he's careful to keep his distance.
"Damn, teach," he mutters, and there's a teasing edge to his tone you don't miss. "You sick or somethin?"
The banter makes you roll your eyes. You've been on greeting terms with the coach ever since your first meeting, but he has a habit of acting as if you're closer than you technically are. He's accepted that he can't smoke on school grounds, but somehow he manages to always have his smoking break right outside the school whenever you're leaving work for the day.
"What does it look like?"
You grab several bags of noodles before going towards the freezers. Ukai chuckles, still lingering while you fish out frozen soup from a freezer.
He lets you finish your shopping without anymore questions, which you're grateful for as you grab an array of snacks and somewhat-meals from the shelves.
"You need a bag for that?" he asks when you make it back to the till, and you nod, realising you forgot your reusable one at home.
He hums as he begins to bag the items for you.
"Oh, you don't have to. I can—"
"Don't push it."
His eyes flicker to yours, sharp gaze making the protests die on your tongue. You purse your lips, silently standing there while he finishes up.
"How much do I owe you?" you ask, reaching for your wallet. Ukai shakes his head, pushing the bag towards you.
"It's on the house,"
"Coach, I can't let you do that." You sigh, hesitantly staring at the bag full of snacks.
Ukai looks you over before he smiles.
"Think of it as me returning the favour."
"What?" You blink, confused as to what he's referring to. You don't remember doing him any favours.
"You let Kageyama and Ginger retake their tests earlier so they could make it to the training camp on time."
"Ginger?" You tilt your head, confused.
"Hinata."
Your nose scrunches for a beat, and Ukai finds it endlessly adorable. Even if you're sick, and your hair is a mess, and you're clearly wearing something you wouldn't normally leave the house in. He shouldn't enjoy it so much, the crack in your otherwise perfect teacher facade. But it is endearing to see you, who's always nagging at him not to smoke in front of the students, with a runny nose.
"You really shouldn't be calling the students names."
"Oh, please, carrot top doesn't care." Ukai dismisses with a grin.
You stare at him for a while. Then you smile.
"You care about them."
You smile as though you've found dirt on him, too. Ukai doesn't mind people knowing he cares about the boys. Even if he did make Kageyama and Tsukishima run laps till they could barely walk anymore just yesterday. But he lets you have it because he likes the way you look at him.
He holds out the bag for you, motioning for you to take it.
"Get out of my store before you get me sick too."
"Thanks, coach." You take the bag, winking at him. It makes him unable to retort anything smart, taken aback by your sudden… flirtations?
Is that what that was?
Ukai hasn't been with anyone recently enough to remember. All he thinks about is the store, his grandpa, bills, and volleyball. He watches you leave, eyes trailing your form.
Fuck.
A student caught cheating on their test. A parent screaming at you. The principal throwing you under the bus for something that wasn't your fault.
As if you’re not already also feeling the usual wear and tear that comes with the shorter, darker days in autumn, as well as the trees slowly going bald and the wind gaining more bite.
You're tired.
"Can I bum one?"
"What?"
Ukai is standing in his usual place, right outside the school. He looks as good as ever, wearing one of his tracksuits. His hair is pulled back by his headband, as always.
Your favourite delinquent.
"Sure, yeah," Ukai states, pulling his pack out of his pocket. "I didn't think you were a smoker."
You put the cigarette between your lips, and before you can ask for a lighter, he lights it for you. You inhale while looking at him, and he doesn’t break eye contact.
"I'm not," you eventually reply.
He stares at the cigarette in your hand. You do look good like that. In your dress shirt and skirt, smoking.
"I only smoke at parties, and with guys I find hot," you say bluntly. The tips of Ukai's ears turn a faint pink.
"You think I'm hot?" he asks. You don't reply, instead opting to take another drag as you lean up against the wall behind you.
"I'm so tired," you say, closing your eyes.
"Rough day?"
"You have no idea."
You stand in silence for a while before you glance over at him. He meets your gaze immediately.
"How's that volleyball thing going for ya?"
His grin turns wide, clearly delighted that you asked. He looks stupidly handsome like that, you think. Maybe you're not so over piercings and dyed hair or whatever you told yourself.
Not when it's on him anyway.
"It's good actually," he says. "Still a lot of work, but I see a lot of potential in them."
You nod. It's fun to watch him talk about volleyball. There's a glint in his eyes.
"Ginger's technique is… questionable. But he makes up for it with eagerness. And Kageyama's bad attitude is finally starting to melt."
You snort.
"I've always liked those two. Even though I think most of what I try to teach them goes in one ear and out another."
"They're probably thinking about volleyball." Ukai laughs, and you shake your head.
"I bet," you say. You exhale again, nearly blowing smoke in Ukai's face, and he teasingly bats it away. "As long as I manage to teach them something,"
"I'm sure you do." He replies, grinning at you.
You've reached the end of your cigarette. Ukai has too, but he's holding it between his fingers like it's still worth something. You push off the wall.
"Well, this was nice. I should get going," you say.
"I'll see you around."
He doesn't make a move to go. They're probably still training even though it's late. You've noticed Hinata sleeping in class occasionally. You don't have the heart to tell him off for it.
"Goodnight, coach." You wave at him, and he nods.
Stupidly handsome.
The walk to the school gym is as humiliating as it could be.
But it's already December, and you're concerned about a few of your students' participation in class.
You pass a few students on the way in, but they're too busy bickering to question why you're there. Something you're grateful for, since you're not sure what your answer would be.
The blonde man you're looking for is putting away the last supplies in the otherwise empty hall. Your heels are loud against the hardwood floor, catching his attention.
Ukai raises a brow.
"Shouldn't the students be doing the cleaning up?" you ask, teasingly.
He puts his hands on his hips, resembling a strict teacher. It makes you smile a little.
"I sent them home so they could get some sleep," he replies. "What brings you here, teach?"
You sigh, glancing around, taking in the volleyballs still scattered all over the court. Ukai is gathering them one by one, putting them all in a big net.
"I'm worried for a few of the third years," you reply, and Ukai nods. "They should be focusing on their finals."
"They are focusing," Ukai says, putting another ball in the net.
"On volleyball," you reply, tilting your head.
"On the Spring Tournament." Ukai retorts. He's stopped cleaning up now, instead focusing his whole attention on you. You feel warm under his gaze.
"That's not school."
"It's the nationals. For some of these kids, it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
"Listen, I think it's important for the kids to have hobbies, but—"
"This is important to them." Ukai interrupts you, and you blink at him. For a second, you think of the older teachers in the break room, all talking about how kids these days don't take anything seriously enough.
Do you want to become like them?
As if Ukai can tell your inner conflict, he deflates before the corners of his mouth tilt upwards.
"Okay."
"What?" you ask, confused.
"Okay. I'll tell them. But what's in it for me?"
The air becomes charged. Different. You notice it instantly, and it makes you feel flustered.
"What do you mean?"
"What do I gain?" Ukai asks, stepping closer. He's taller than you, you notice for the first time. Quite a bit taller even when you're wearing heels.
"Huh, teach?" he says, and you have no idea what to reply.
"I don't—"
He kisses you then. Drops the volleyball in his hands so he can pull you in, and kisses you with a firm hand on your cheek, wasting no time to deepen it. You moan into his mouth, and you feel him chuckle as you cling to him.
It makes you a little dizzy, the way he licks into your mouth, exploring. Something hot curls in your stomach, and you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck.
He tastes like cigarettes and bad decisions, and it makes you relax instantly. He's a good kisser, attentive to how you like it, quickly getting the hang of it. It makes your knees weak, and you're too dumbfounded to speak when he pulls away. Ukai grins.
"I'll tell them, teach. But it's up to them what they want to do."
"Okay," you squeak, stumbling back. "Uhhh, thanks?" you say, and it comes out more like a question than you intended.
Ukai shrugs before he begins collecting more volleyballs.
"Get home safe,"
He becomes a ghost. You don't see him on his smoke breaks, despite the fact that you leave at the same time you always do. When they're at the tournament in Tokyo, you get it, but even when they return, and you know the club is training at home, you still don't see him.
In your stubbornness, you refuse to search for him. He's the one who practically threw himself at you, so shouldn't he be the one finding you?
You're not 16 anymore, so why are you pining over a guy like this?
Goddammit.
This is why you shouldn't trust blonde men, especially ones with awful dye jobs and sexy piercings.
Wait what?
So you throw yourself into grading exams and helping your students get ready for entrance exams. You pointedly ignore when your coworkers talk about how amazing it was that the volleyball club made it all the way to the Spring Tournament in Tokyo.
Towards the end of the semester, you've gone weeks without seeing him.
And then he's there.
Smoking on school property.
It's a cold and dark day in February, and he's the last person you want to see right now. Shivering, you pull your coat tighter around you, frowning at the sun that's already threatening to leave you in darkness for the rest of the day.
Your cheeks burn, despite the cold weather, when he looks up and smiles at you, tilting his head to the side.
"Hey, teach," he simply says.
"You still can't smoke here," you say, walking past him. He's quick on your heels, taking another drag.
"The students have all gone home," he says.
"It's the principle," you respond, sending him a glare. He's still smiling. You're starting to think he likes it when you're mad at him.
"Where have you been?" You ask. He raises his brows like he's surprised you didn't know. How could you possibly not when they've been the talk of the town ever since they made it to the Spring Tournament?
"What?"
"I haven't seen you in weeks," you say, embarrassed that you even have to explain this to him. "You don't just kiss people and then disappear."
"We were in Tokyo."
He looks bewildered. You cross your arms. Stupid man with stupid piercings and stupid, stupid, kissable lips.
"For a month? You pretty much ghosted me."
"I thought you knew?"
His puppy eyes won't work. He's not as innocent as he seems. He's evil, evil, evil—
He frowns, but it looks more like a pout.
"So that's it then? You just arrange your whole life around volleyball?" You ask.
"Yes?" He says, sounding unsure. The scolding glare you give him makes him hesitate. "Fuck, sorry, I mean—"
You begin to walk away from him, tired of his explanations. You aren't even dating. You shouldn't be upset. He's just a cute guy who got you snacks that one time. Nothing special.
"Wait up for a second," he calls after you, but you keep walking.
The call of your name makes you stop in your tracks. Authority seeps through his tone, making your knees weak and your mind quiet.
Did he just use the fucking coach voice on you?
You glare back at him.
"I do care a lot about volleyball," Ukai says, scratching the back of his neck. "I just kinda— I thought you'd be fine?"
You process the words, deflating. Ukai awkwardly stands there, waiting for your judgement. You should be fine. That's the problem. You should be, but you aren't.
He must really be an idiot.
It makes you scoff, more so at yourself than him, but your lips are already curling upwards, and Ukai's shoulders ease in response, his whole posture becoming calmer. You shake your head, but you're still smiling.
"You're actually the dumbest man I've ever met," you say, and he shrugs.
You begin to walk, and he watches you go.
"Are you still mad at me?"
"Ask me again tomorrow, coach."
The club your friends make you go to is three towns over. That was your only demand, given that you know some of your students have tendencies to be out and about late, and you're not interested in running into any of them off the clock.
Drunk and wearing the tiny dress your friend borrowed you.
Still, you're excited to let a little loose, dolling yourself up and wearing a pair of heels you haven't worn in months.
For the better part of the evening, it's nice.
You dance with your friends, accept drinks from a cute guy here and there. You do a round of shots, and then you dance some more. Somewhere between Rihanna and Charli XCX, you lose two friends, but you gather that they're together, so you give up on finding them.
Then your other friend finds some guy she wants to go home with, and suddenly you're alone.
Alone, sobering up, and very annoyed that your friends broke the most important rule and left you alone in a nightclub, 45 minutes away from where you live.
You exit the club, shivering at the early spring air hitting you. Despite the fact that it's march, your choice of clothing is far too optimistic compared to the weather. Still, it's nice to finally breathe.
Breathe… cigarette smoke. Annoyed, you glance at the man smoking against the wall right outside the club before you begin to search for your phone, hoping you can call the friends you lost earlier in the night.
"You clean up nicely."
You stop in your tracks, turning to look at the man leaning against the wall. Cigarette in his hand just like the first time you met him, yet this time he's already grinning at you. He's eyeing your dress with little shame. You're too drunk to care, and you grin at him, forgetting all about your friends.
"I always look good, coach," you say, stepping closer. He hums, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"Why are you here? You following me or something?"
Ukai let's out a genuine laugh, smiling down at you as you step into his personal space. You're so close so can smell his cologne, mixing with the cigarette smoke.
You shouldn't get so close. You shouldn't flirt so blatantly. You'll blame it on the alcohol later. You've had a rough night, and Ukai looks like exactly what you need to wind down after the clubbing fiasco you just survived.
Plus, he owes you this. For kissing you and making you all confused and then barely acknowledging it afterwards.
Like a jerk.
"Not following you, I promise."
"That's a shame."
"I— uhhh." Ukai's eyes flick down, glancing at your cleavage. "A few friends wanted to go out."
"Why aren't you with your friends?" You tilt your head to the side, and Ukai swallows. Your gaze follows his Adam's apple, and you smile.
"I'm not much for clubbing."
You hum sympathetically, and it makes it curl hot in his stomach.
"Neither am I."
"Can I?" you ask, motioning at the cigarette. He hums, like he's thinking about it. Then he takes another long drag and motions you to come closer, and you do, stepping so close you're nearly touching. He leans down, grabbing your chin and angling your head how he likes. He slowly blows the smoke at you, and you inhale in turn, keeping eye contact. The smoke stings a little, combined with the alcohol already in your system, but you feel the nicotine making you slightly lighter.
He pulls away again, and you exhale, still looking up at him.
"Did you drive here?" you ask, tilting your head. You look pretty, Ukai thinks, looking up at him through your lashes. He nods because his throat feels too dry for him to form an answer.
"Let's go," you say, grabbing his hand.
"What?" he asks, but he follows you as you march towards the parking lot.
"I want to fuck you."
Ukai feels as though you just stole the air from his lungs. He eyes your backside, appreciating the way your tiny dress clings to your hips. It's so different compared to the thing you wear when you're at work.
"So are you still mad?" he asks, with bated breath.
You glance over your shoulder, but you don't reply.
You make him show you where his car is parked, and then you fling open the door by the driver's seat and push him in. He can barely think before you're climbing into his lap and slamming the door behind you. The parking lot is dark, and there's no one near, but it's still risky. There are a few awkward seconds of him trying to adjust the car seat so you can move around in the cramped space better.
You crash your lips to his, and ignore the voice in the back of your head that screams that this is a bad idea.
It can't be, not when he tastes like cigarettes and beer, and everything you need right now. Not when his bulge is already pressing against your core, making you dizzy, not when his big hands grab your hips tightly, and he moans into your mouth.
You giggle, running your fingers through his bleached hair. You grab his stupid headband and throw it somewhere else in the car. Pulling back, you take him in, smiling at his dishevelled look. He's still panting, lips already swollen from your short assault.
"You really gonna fuck the volleyball coach in his car, miss teacher?" he asks, and you flush, but you still grind your hips into his again, just to watch the way his lips part.
"So what if I am?" you reply, tilting your head. Ukai only smiles, and one of his big hands trails up your back before cupping the back of your head and pulling you into yet another kiss. He licks into your mouth, tasting the fruity drink you had earlier. You moan in return, kissing him while you keep tugging on his hair.
You move your hips languidly against his, and you know you're probably staining his pants with how wet you already are. It's almost unbearable at this point, the way your clit is throbbing while you grind down in search of friction.
Ukai is not much better off, kissing you harder as he lets you control the pace of your hips. Yet his cock is straining in his boxers, desperate to be freed. He kisses down your throat, sloppily trailing spit across your skin as he pushes your hair out of the way.
"You're so fucking sexy, you know that?" he groans, as if you've committed a crime. You moan when he bites the junction of your throat and shoulder, the faint pain only making you more aroused. "Always waltzing around the school grounds like you own the place."
"Fuck off," you breathe, no real bite in your tone. Ukai pinches your nipple through the fabric of your dress, and you whine. The sound makes him lightheaded, and he pulls back so he can slip down the straps of your dress, pulling down till your tits spill out.
"Love this little number on you too,"
He motions at the tiny dress you're wearing, the one that's now bundled around your stomach. He doesn't wait a second more, quickly attaching his mouth to your nipple. You gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders at the sudden stimulation. He appreciatively squeezes your other tit, and he moans when he watches your skin spill out between his fingers.
"Love your tits,"
"You're so crude. Are you sure you should be working with children?"
"I'm a great coach, thank you."
He bites your boob gently, grinning when your hips stutter against his. Growing impatient, you fumble with his waistband, pulling his cock out of his pants. The sheer size of it makes your jaw drop, pearly precum already beading at his tip as you slowly stroke him. He moans, still drooling on your chest while you feel him twitch in your hands.
Despite the blissful expression on his face, he's clearly growing impatient too, as he bunches your dress up around your waist further. He whistles when he sees your pink panties.
"Were you hoping to get laid tonight?"
"I wear pretty panties cause I want to," you bite back, furrowing your brows at him.
"Of course you do, sorry, baby,"
The nickname slips off his tongue easily, and you don't correct him. You just squeeze around the base of his cock like a warning, making him hiss. He puts his hand over yours, while his other tightens on your hip. Slapping his cock against your stomach, you both gaze down.
He smears precum on you with no remorse for the fact that he's dirtying your soft skin.
"See how deep I'm gonna go?" he asks, tapping the head of his cock against your stomach, as he begins to slide your panties to the side. He runs his fingers through your wet folds before plunging a finger into your heat. You gasp, your soft walls squeezing around the intrusion.
He doesn't have to finger you for long before you feverishly press your lips to his in between moans, begging him to fuck you. You reach down and help him press his cock to your entrance, and he groans, throwing his head back, when his tip is enveloped in your warm heat.
"Fuck," he mutters, watching where you're connected. He pulls out again, teasing you like that, before he presses in again, this time giving you a few more inches. He feels your tight cunt slowly adjusting to him, allowing him to slowly feed you inch after inch.
By the time your clit meets his pelvis, you're dizzy, grabbing onto him for dear life. He is deep. Even the sight of his tip smearing arousal on your stomach couldn't prepare you for how it feels to actually have him inside you.
You hide your face in the crook of his neck, moaning helplessly when he begins to rock you back and forth, practically cooing at you.
"That's it, baby, you're taking it so well."
To hear him praise you so seamlessly only works to make you more dizzy, clinging onto him as you begin to move your hips in tandem with his, gasping into his ear.
"Feels good?"
"Yeah," you reply, too dumb to form a real sentence. Ukai seems to sense this too, and he laughs as he starts to actually bounce you in his lap, the slick sound of skin against skin filling the car. You can hear how wet you are, dripping all over him while he fucks you.
It feels good, as it feels irresponsible to be fucking him like that, in a dark parking lot in the middle of the night. Anyone could walk past, but you're too occupied with the thought of coming that you're not even sure you'd stop if someone did.
Ukai seems to be in the same headspace, groaning into your chest as he messily trails kisses all over your tits while you bounce in his lap. You gasp when he hits your G-spot, and he notices, grinning up at you.
"That felt good, huh?"
He angles you so he can hit your sweet spot again and again, repeatedly making a jolt of pleasure rush through you. You won't last long, especially not when he reaches a hand down to messily circle your clit.
The dual stimulation makes your jaw drop, and your moan feels forced out of you. Your pussy squeezes around him, making his hips stutter, before he quickly resumes the pace.
"Who knew," he mutters, out of breath, as his eyes ravenously take you in. "Who knew you just needed to get fucked,"
You whimper, shaking your head.
"No?" he asks, fake pity lacing his voice. "You sure that's not why you've been acting all fussy with me?"
Your eyes narrow, but you don't stop for a second, still riding him like your life depends on it.
"I'm not fussy," you pant, shaking your head. "You shouldn't smoke in front of the students."
You moan, messily kissing him again. You're so close you can almost taste it.
"No, I suppose it's better to be shotgunning pretty women in front of clubs," he teases, grinning at you. His thumb presses firmer circles into your clit now, and he feels the way you pulse and clench around him.
You come with a broken cry, collapsing against his chest. He lets you ride it out, guiding you with a firm hand as you twitch and pant, pleasure washing over you in waves.
When you come back down, he's pressing his lips to yours, cock furiously twitching inside you as he tries to keep himself from coming. He's not ready for this to be over yet.
You moan into the kisses when he starts moving again, grinding in that deep, slow way that makes your brain go static as you simply just take it, your body feeling like jelly.
You bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent, biting and licking and kissing his skin. It only works to make Ukai begin to bounce you in his lap yet again, moving you up and down, a breathy whimper leaving him when your pussy clenches down on him.
Despite it, it doesn't take long for him to feel his orgasm approaching again, a telltale sign of heat blooming in his gut. He groans, and you whine in response.
"Wanna feel it, coach," you whine into his ear, nibbling on his earlobe. Ukai squeezes his eyes shut. It shouldn't, but you using his title does something to him. He feels the tips of his ears warming, probably blooming pink already, and he knows his face is no better.
"Please, please, please," you continue, and your hips begin to meet his own, as you deliberately grind your clit against his pelvis, moaning at the friction of his pubes against your sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—“
You break before him the second time, but he's right behind you, gasping as he fills you up with sticky cum. You seem satisfied, though, humming into his ear.
You ride it out before you pull back, and both of you watch as you lift your hips, letting his messy cock fall against his stomach. Cum drips out of your swollen pussy, and you play with the mess.
Ukai watches, entranced. He wonders if you'd let him do this again. He really hopes so, because the image of his cum all over your messy cunt is ingrained in his brain forever. He's speechless when you bring two fingers to your lips, licking them clean. You keep eye contact with a spent hum, and he brings his hand to your mouth, replacing your own fingers with his thumb.
You wrap your lips around his digit without question, gently biting down with a glint in your eyes. If you feel the way his cock twitches, you don't acknowledge it.
He removes his thumb with a pop, and the giggle you let out is almost girlish, as you wrap your arms around his neck. You grind your pussy on top of his spent cock, and he hisses at the sensitivity.
"That was fun," you say, tilting your head to the side. "If you tell anyone, though, I'll kill you."
Ukai laughs unexpectedly. His cock twitches yet again at the thought of being your secret boy toy, and you clearly notice, because your smile turns wicked within a second.
"Drive me home?" you ask, and Ukai nods.
"Yeah, just gimme a second to—" he trails off, but you don't seem to mind. Happily, you put your arms through the straps of your dress again, and Ukai pouts when you pull it up, hiding those gorgeous tits of yours. You put your panties back in place, and then you climb over the console, getting in the passenger seat.
"There's probably gonna be cum on your seat," you say, wincing uncomfortably. Ukai laughs before tugging his cock back into his pants. The state of his boxers and pants isn't much better, still damp with your arousal.
"I'm still mad at you," you say, staring out the window as he pulls out of the parking lot.
"You are?" he echoes, and you nod.
"For kissing me and then acting as if it didn't happen."
"Ah," Ukai keeps his eyes on the road, but he doesn't miss the way you shift in your seat out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry about that."
You scoff a little, and Ukai reaches a hand over, squeezing your thigh. You watch the way his big hand digs into the soft fat of your thigh. Calloused and rough, probably from spiking balls since he was a kid.
"I didn't mean to ignore you," Ukai says. His thumb caresses your inner thigh, dangerously close to the sticky mess between your legs.
"I got scared."
"What?"
"You're sexy and intelligent, and you're always nagging me—" He sighs, stopping for a second like he can't quite find the words. "I didn't wanna mess up."
He glances over at you.
"And I do think about volleyball. A lot. Definitely more than the average person."
"You're an idiot," you say and Ukai groans.
"You can't say that, I'll get hard again."
This makes you genuinely laugh, and he squeezes your thigh.
"I'm sorry too," you mutter, and he perks up, grinning, but still looking forward at the road. "I overthink. And then it felt like you dipped, and I lashed out. I should've texted you or something."
"You don't have my number." He interjects, squeezing your thigh yet again.
"We should probably fix that." You huff, shifting again. His cum is slowly pooling in your underwear, and it makes your cheeks feel warm.
Letting him come inside before even having his number on your phone. This man is making you act seriously irrational.
"You're hot too," you admit, with a roll of your eyes that he doesn't miss. He grins, shaking his head.
"You're gonna give me a complex."
"You deserve it."
You spend the rest of the car ride in silence, aside from the radio in the background. When he pulls up in front of your apartment complex, you tilt your head at him.
"There's a parking lot behind the building."
Ukai blinks. He's delighted, but he'll admit part of him that’s scared, thought this was a one-time thing. By the look in your eyes, it's clearly not. He's excited. A little scared. He knows he still needs to earn his place beside you. He wants to learn what you eat for breakfast and how you like your tea.
"You're gonna walk me to the door, right, coach?"
ukai fumbling because he only thinks about high school volleyball is canon to me. thank you for coming to my ted talk. <3
this was just supposed to be car sex idk how it turned into 6k words . i don’t want to talk about it okay
"It's become a tradition. A quick greeting, a pop in your hand, and then a tight space between boxes and cardboard, your shoulders bearing down on each other, and the smoke of his cigarette tangling with the scent you wear. You talk, he listens, answers your questions if you have them, but mostly stays silent, infatuated with your voice and falling in love that terrifies him."
✧ ukai keishin x afab reader
✧ cw: smut and fluff, friends to lovers, secret crush, public sex, piv sex , no gendered pronouns, no use of y/n
✧ minors dni
✧ word count: 4.2k
✧ available on ao3 | masterlist
✧ a/n: commission for dearest @beaniesweets 𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ as asked, it takes inspiration from smoking behind the supermarket with you manga, which i wholeheartedly recommend!
first time writing ukai & already loving it. his old man soul and grumpy demeanor have bewitched me
✧ banners by cafekitsune.
✧ i'm currently unemployed and living on a very tight budget. i don't take new commissions rn, but if you like what i write, you can send me a tip ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡
For Keishin, the sound of wind chimes will always be tied to you.
He hated them at first. Too long, always tangled, always bumping against careless heads of overgrown teenagers. And too silent, too. If he wasn't sitting right in front of the door and paying attention (so, almost always), customers sneaked on him without even trying—the least he wanted when hunched over stats and notes. His mother insisted he smoked less around customers and then de-installed the perfectly working sensor chime for the sake of a sound less alarming than, in Keishin's opinion, a silent fart. What was she thinking would always remain a mystery to him.
But then, one windy day, the chimes announced your presence and Keishin has never been the same man since.
You had your favorite time: around an hour before the closing, on every working day and sometimes on Sundays, too. You never bumped into the chimes, instead always stopped to admire and give them an extra clink with a hand. It gave him a moment to pay attention—and oh boy, if he wasn't hunting those like a hawk. From the safe outpost behind the counter, he watched you taking one and the same route, from the door to the sale basket, from the basket to the drink alley, finally from the drinks to the fridge for the treat you never omitted: a chocolate pop. Sometimes you rode a bike, sometimes you just walked, and he never saw you in a car, so you couldn't live anywhere far. Yet, he hadn't met you before, and no matter how hard he was looking out on the streets for you, you appeared only in the shop, as if out of a thin air.
It seemed you were taking a roundabout for your ice cream, but he couldn't gather courage to ask. He wasn't the most extroverted guy out there but never before he had a problem striking a conversation with a customer. Something about you tied his tongue into tight knots, as if he was fifteen again, standing in front of his crush and mustering up his courage to confess.
He watched in silence, hoping you didn't take him for a creep, sold you your beloved treat, and stared at your silhouette lingering by the entrance until you finished the pop and tossed the stick into the trashcan. Rinse and repeat, until Keishin found himself dangerously close to madness.
You took the first step—or rather, the universe forced you to take it. Keishin, muttering all the curses under the sun, was securing the shop against the incoming typhoon and your eyes met for far longer than ever before. He didn't have heart to tell you he'd already closed; he sold you your pop and let you hide behind the building, in his secret little temple of smoking solitude. The nook provided a perfect shelter from wind and rain; it was crude but cozy, and, most importantly, shielded him from any curious eye peeking from the inside. Never before had he shared his secret, and then he did so without even knowing your name, which he learned that evening while drying your hair off with his own apron.
It's become a tradition. A quick greeting, a pop in your hand, and then a tight space between boxes and cardboard, your shoulders bearing down on each other, and the smoke of his cigarette tangling with the scent you wear. You talk, he listens, answers your questions if you have them, but mostly stays silent, infatuated with your voice and falling in love that terrifies him. His dating history is just awkwardness, a few failures, and years-long solitude he hasn't cared about until you sneaked into his heart. There's nothing he can offer in exchange of taking the risk of ruining the relationship you two have built for over a year now, too intimate to be called a friendship but too distanced to completely shake off the social restraints.
A wise man would give up and move away, but Keishin has never believed in his brain, and he surely wouldn't start to when you were filling the holes in his heart with your sweet smile. He opened it as wide as the back door leading to his nook and let you make yourself comfortable, become a fixture, and ignite flames he never thought he'd still have them in him.
And, after all, routine, however painful, is better than solitude. He could get used to everything, as long as you're his for those fifteen minutes, the shortest and longest fifteen minutes of his life in tandem.
Today, Keishin is antsy—and surprised he is capable of it while already miserable beyond his limit. Everything has been against him, starting from the old air con closing its days first thing in the morning of the hottest time this summer. He spent most of the shift moving everything he could fit into the fridges, only for the customers to barely show up. Who would blame them, definitely not him, soaked in sweat while surrounded by three fans that bring him no relief. He wouldn't blame you either, and since he took a peek outside to help granny Tokuda with her bags, he's convinced you won't bear this heat just for a pop and chat. He should call it a day, close the shop, and withdraw to air-conditioned living room with a couple of ice-cold Kirins.
You won't come—yet, he waits. Your usual hour passes by—he still waits. It's fifteen minutes until closing time—he hasn't moved an inch, his eyes burning from how hard he's been boring them into the door. Ten. Five. What a god damned fool he is, melting in the heat, exhausted from boredom, and clinging to hope like a drowning man.
Four minutes before the execution, the chimes clink, and he almost yells, startled, pulse booming in his ears so loud that he misses your greeting.
"Please tell me you're not out of ice cream," you whine, pouring yourself over the threshold. You're sweaty and messy, skimpy clothes clinging to your body—so beautiful, so breathtaking, having him lightheaded being just a couple meters away.
Keishin straightens his back, fatigue and strain gone in seconds, "The only thing outta here is goddamn' fresh air. Hope ya don't mind."
He makes sure to restock your pops every two weeks. The world would have ended before he'd run out of them.
"Oh, you poor thing." You brighten and trot towards the freezer. When you lean over it, Keishin can't help but steal a peek of your behind—immediate regret and burning flush covering his face red. Your shorts are quite…minimalist. They don't leave much to his imagination—as if there was anything left to discover after countless times he imagined what's underneath your clothes.
You take your time choosing, straight up torture for the man and thousands thoughts per second speeding in his head. Keishin regretfully peels eyes off your bare thighs and stares upwards, praying all the blood he has went to his cheeks, not south. The afterimage of your figure doesn't wear off easily though and he can stare at the ceiling fan only until you're finished fishing coins out of your pocket. He looks back at you with difficulty, swallows heavy when you meet him with a bright, fresh smile.
"What's up with you today?" You pour the exact change into his palm, then lean over the counter, so close Keishin can smell your natural scent, accented with mint aroma of refreshing wipes. "Hey? Hi? Are you there?"
Your hand waving in front of his face catches Keishin nearly unawares. He can barely hear over the rumble of his heartbeat, but his hands somehow don't shake when he rings you up.
"It's awful today." You're understanding. You always are, such a blessing for his clumsy and crude tongue. "It's gonna be a rough night, too. It's not too late for me, right? Can I stay?"
Oh, you have no idea how rough it's going to be. Keishin already knows he won't sleep a wink even if he takes a hundred cold showers. As soon as you will leave him alone and he won't have to control himself, your thighs—and especially their part where your shorts sink into their softness—will squeeze everything out of him.
He nods towards the back door and grabs his cigarettes, much harder than he intended. You help yourself with the code and sit on the tower of half-empty soda crates, crossing your legs in ankles. The valley between your shorts and skin deepens; Keishin trips over his feet when he can't help but steal another peek.
"Are you sure you're alright?" You lean towards him and your shirt peels off your chest, giving him a glimpse of your skin. It's glistening deliciously, asking for his lips to brush under your collarbones and up the strickle of sweat left by a droplet wandering down your neck.
Ashamed of his thoughts, Keishin listens when you ask him to come over, doesn't protest as your knees press against his chest and your cool hand cups his forehead. You're talking about the dangers of heat stroke and something about hydration, he can't follow, every ounce of his attention brought to controlling his eyes and breathing. You're so close he could scoop you into his arms, and you smell so nice, your skin is so soft, your voice is so soothing…
"Ukai?" You tilt your head and he flinches, suddenly aware he's on the brink of the forbidden line.
"Sorry, it's been a long day." He slides out of your hands and leans against the wall, next to you but within a respectful distance. A cigarette smoke is not as calming as he hoped but at least he has something else to focus on.
"Same. I could barely sneak a lunch break. You would think even an office would slow down in this heat…"
There are endless adjustments and a new marketing campaign on your side. A bunch of rowdy boys on his and a tournament scraping at everyone's heels. You worry one of your current projects will take you more time than you were given. He's uncertain about the strategy he chose for the first string. Same old, intertwined with his indecent thoughts that agreed to stay low but can't quite cease.
You unwrap your treat and for a moment it's only silence, the comfortable dome he's grown to love. At the beginning he tensed whenever you stopped talking; he didn't want to force the words but neither did he want you to get uncomfortable or bored and leave. You never left though and he learned to appreciate how intimate silence can be if respected and tended to with attention.
He appreciates it, especially now. He closes eyes and takes deep breaths of tobacco, until his racing heart finally steadies and he's sure his body will listen to him, at least enough he won't make a fool out of himself.
"Have I ever told you why I love those pops so much?" Your voice sneaks into every crevice of his soul. It's sweet and viscous, like the treat you've sucked while giving him a much-needed moment.
"It's a childhood favorite," you muse, not waiting for his answer. "Back then, when we still lived abroad, they were everywhere. And cheap. Every summer day, when I was staying at my grandparents', I scraped whatever I had left of my allowance, bought one and went behind the shop, to look at the horses. There were stables…"
Every now and then you take a break for quick lick.
"For years I looked for this brand. Everywhere. I swear on my left pinkie, you're the only shop in Japan that has them."
Keishin doesn't remember anymore what—or who—prompted him to order your beloved pops but if it was a person, he would kiss their feet for bringing you to his life.
"And one day—"
Keishin opens his eyes just as you're at the finish, licking off the last remains of your ice cream and staring at the stick. It's but a glimpse but he sees it; the pleased relief tensing into disbelief and finally exploding with child-like excitement. "Oh. Oh. Ukai, look! I won!"
Crates wobble under you; Keishin jumps in to steady you and finds you in his arms. His whole body tenses like a string, pulsing with fear of exposing his needs, hands frozen in air, away from your body clinging to his. The hug doesn't last longer than a few seconds but it's enough to remember, to drill the shape of your chest into his soul—no, deeper, far beyond consciousness.
"I have never—" you chatter and fidget, still within his reach, much to his torture. "This is the first— Oh fuck, I can't even find the words, this is so embarrassing… I won an extra!"
You're so cute, so endearing with your tangled tongue and gleaming eyes, fist clenched around the still wet stick. Keishin's heart melts, the air around him tastes like chocolate and first love, and if only he could, he would pull you into his chest and kiss every ounce of your bright smile.
Instead, he tosses the cigarette butt on the ground, grinds it out under his sandal, "Gonna grab you 'nother one."
"Ah, wait!" You catch him mid-bend for the trash, awkward, eyes at the level of the button of your shorts. You reach out, as if wanting to brush hair off his forehead, then suddenly take a couple of steps back, until your back meets the crates.
For the first time, if only for a moment, Keishin has an upper hand in the game you waltzed into his life, and he doesn't dare to grab the reins. He stays where you've left him, as enamored as clumsy, and savors the views. You squirm under his gaze, a fight against racing thoughts visible on your face; he dies to learn them, but he knows he won't find courage to ask.
It takes a few beats of heart and disappears as soon as it's come. You're back to your old self before Keishin can lick his painfully dry lips.
"I wondered—" You're still leaning back but it's different. You're pulling him in, opening like a book. "How about I get something else?"
Part of him knows where it's going. Keishin sees it in the arch of your body, feels the change in the air. He stands upright and runs fingers through hair, if only to do anything with his hands—hands he's dying to put somewhere else.
"If it's somethin' small," he mutters, his tongue tense and too loose all at the same time.
You squint, tilt head to side, make a show of exposing your neck to him. Keishin follows as he's guided, lets you catch him, lets you force his eyes to dart towards your lips.
"How about kissing me?"
In his dreams, it was awkward and stiff at first, and Keishin never knew what to do with his hands. It's always been this way, why would you be an exception—but it's happening, happening now, and not only did he take the final step himself, but his body acts on its own, and it's good, it's right, it's perfect.
Your lips taste like chocolate and are a little sticky; Keishin presses his against them and savors the touch for a whole heartbeat. He does that again. And again. Each time for a little longer, a little more of you sipping through and crawling under his skin. The little gasp you let out between the soft pecks, goosebumps all over your shoulder he's tracing before he finds the perfect crevice to hold your neck—he's savoring it all, deliberately, peeling the thinnest skin of offered treat with surgical precision. Heavens know how did he find patience for it after so much yearning.
You lean into his palm, slot hips against his, and when he holds you there—to keep you close, to serve as your balance—you mewl and take a taste of him. He's surprised to feel your tongue so abruptly; the feeling shoots straight through him, the hardest and sweetest drug he's ever tried. He digs fingers into your softness, lets you cling to him, swallows your breath and the overwhelming taste of chocolate he'll always associate with you.
Entangled, you stagger towards the wall. Protecting your head with his palm, Keishin lowers the last ounce of his guard and risks to feel you better. The curve of your hips slots perfectly in his hand, your skin is moist and warm, and you arch when he slides under your shirt and investigates the line of your spine. The edge of your bra sobers him up; he withdraws and immediately finds a new part of you to fixate on. He loves everything, from the wet hairline at the back of your head to the bare thigh you hook around him, locking him in place.
Dull pulsing relentlessly trickles down, pumps attention into the area he's tried so hard to ignore. His jeans become too tight; uncomfortable pressure forces Keishin to pull away from you. Your eyes half-closed and lips parted, a thin string of saliva still connecting you with him, you stare and wait for his move. The sight has him throbbing, almost bending him in half.
"Shit, sorry…" Keishin mutters, suddenly aware he has nowhere to run, and, between your bodies pressed to each other and your leg restricting his moves, you surely feel how hard he is.
He tries to take a step back regardless. But you're faster. With strength he's never suspected you might have, you pull him back by the belt and go straight for his zipper. Keishin's face is burning; he mutters a curse and closes eyes when you palm his erection through his pants.
You kiss him again, sloppier, breathy moans sneaking in between chaotic pecks and bites. You're fast and determined; you feel him through briefs, trace his pulsing shaft until he can't help himself and bucks into your palm. The other hand of yours encourages him to move; Keishin listens, somehow manages to sneak under your shorts, moans when he finds your moisture through thin underwear. You daintily arch, giving him better access and guiding him to touch you as you like.
"Shit—" He can't think, he can't breathe, torn between your hot slick covering his fingers and your hand stroking his cock. "Shit…"
He starts rutting against you, impatient hips looking for friction and pressure, relentlessly ruining the balance. Keishin wants to be inside you, if only with a single finger, but he fears he might ruin everything if he dares; instead he traces at the edge and presses you into the wall until you peel off his lips and hide face in his neck. Your breath hitches; suddenly, you stop stroking him and sink fingers of both hands into his sides, under his t-shirt, right above his belt.
Keishin bites on his lips so hard he feels pain. Only a single finger. Only a tip. Only for a moment…
You mutter his name, almost sending him over the edge. He stills and curses, risks a shallow, dry thrust against your hip; his precum stains the edge of your shorts.
"I want it," you breathe out, your whole body trembling. Keishin clasps you to his chest; his heart races, threatens to break through his ribcage. "Do you—"
Does he want you? He had never wanted anyone that badly before.
He wants to drop to his knees and eat you out. He wants to turn you around and take you from behind until your screams ruin your throat. He wants to carry you to his bed and make sweet love to you. He wants to finger you until your eyes turn foggy from pleasure and you whimper his name again, right here, between crates and empty boxes.
He wants to scream all of that, at once; instead, he panics and sprints inside, barely shoving his cock into his pants before he catches up the entrance and slams the door closed. Shop's supply of condoms is neatly tucked under the counter—Keishin scatters it all over, grabs the first pack that falls into his hands. It'd better be okay, he's not sure if he finds enough power to leave you again.
He finds you tugging your shorts and panties down; you give him an impish, encouraging smile. Weak on his feet, Keishin helps you stand on one leg and pull clothes over your foot, but his patience can't withstand the sight of your bush welcoming him between your thighs. He bears on you, for a moment forgetting about the whole world, every inch of his body yearning to impale you on him. You're so hot and keen, his and his only.
His jeans fall to his ankles. You sink nails into his bare ass, then drag them up, along his sweaty back. Keishin trembles, so close without a proper taste of you.
"Got the stuff?" you remind—no, command him.
It's not his first time, how is it so difficult to open a box of condoms and put one on? Keishin falls apart, his hands shake and fail, the heat of the moment and confidence leaving him with every long second of his cumbrousness. As always, you save him and take over; with one swift move you roll a condom on him and guide him forward.
Shouldn't he stretch you first, he wonders and wants to ask, but you wrap a leg around him again, and when his tip rests against your slit, it's all in vain, and he has to obey and thrust.
Your tightness curls around his mind. With no trace of hesitation left, Keishin grabs your hips and yanks you up, hands hooked under your ass. You wrap both legs around him, taking him deep with an eager moan. He follows the sound and claims your lips, still chocolate-sweet for him and answering him with the same desperation.
All of the windows around must be open for the humid night, everyone could hear your cries of pleasure if they sneaked past the chaotic kisses, but Keishin doesn't care anymore. To hell with neighbors and his reputation when he can finally have you. You're so perfect, so tasty and wet, and you pulse around his cock, encouraging him to go deeper, harder. He's a slave to your whims and takes everything you offer; rhythmic, steady thrusts push you into the wall, and you scratch his back in return, whimper his name in a way that has his blood boiling.
It's going to be fast and Keishin knows he won't stop it when it comes. Before that, he wants to give you as much pleasure as possible, as much as his scrambled brain is able to convey. There will be time to take it nice and slow, to worship you how you deserve; right now, he craves to chase the high and sate the yearning and years of solitude before that.
He screams his adoration and love with the sharp rhythm of his hips, until he can't handle his own pace anymore and stutters, then spills, shuddering between your clenched thighs.
You breathe in unison, the dim spots of artificial light dance in Keishin's eyes. Exhaustion of the long day and intense finish slowly crawls up his muscles; in the blink of consciousness, he carries you to the crates and sits you there. Before he gives in, he finds your clit with a thumb. A few chaotic circles later, you whimper and clench around his softening cock, electric shock running through your body to his and shaking you both.
The world around has curled, wrapped around Keishin with your arms. His senses and awareness gradually return. Satisfaction and high yield to embarrassment; he wants to run away and bury himself deeper into you at the same time. If not for your thighs still keeping him in place, he surely would fall to his knees and hide behind his hands.
At least he made you cum—he thinks so, he's not trusting his guts in the heat of such intense moment. But was it enough? Was it right in the first place? Is it the last time he will ever see you?
You run fingers through his hair, gently guide him to look at you—and kiss him, soft and patient, until he finally relaxes and breathes at ease.
"That was…" you struggle to find words and then, that exact moment, Keishin understands what hasn't been said. "That was lot for a single pop."
He can't help but snort, then openly laugh, and you join in, spasming and bumping forehead against his. Like possessed, you both giggle and tuck your limbs back into clothes. Keishin gathers the trash and tosses it into the bin but keeps the pop stick for himself. As a memento.
Neither of you has strength to part ways. You sit on the ground shoulder to shoulder and taste the silence. Keishin wants to smoke so badly but doesn't want to dig in his pockets when you snuggle to him. He should offer a drink, a shower; he wouldn't feel right if he let you get up and walk into the night just like that. But all the words he thinks of are too crude.
So, instead, he gathers you into his chest, not out of desire, but with genuine love he one day will be brave enough to confess.
☆ day seven: ukai keishin ☆
— haikyuu!! ukai keishin x gn!reader with the following prompt: texting in some form
w/c: 631 words
a/n: established relationship (ukai is your boyfriend). mostly a text message fic, pretty short and easy to read. :)
click here for the original event post.
MASTERLIST
y/n: when do u get off practice
Ukai Keishin: 8
y/n: ????
y/n: 8???
y/n: why so late?
Ukai Keishin: Probably because these boys are menaces.
Ukai Keishin: Why? Need me?
y/n: need someone to bring me food
Ukai Keishin: Is that all I am?
Ukai Keishin: Your personal uber driver?
y/n: i didn't order an uber driver
Ukai Keishin: I'm putting my phone up.
y/n: WAIT
y/n: it's fine
y/n: just thought we could get dinner or somethin
Ukai Keishin: You'll have to wait.
y/n: what if i just come to you
Ukai Keishin: You want to come to the gym?
y/n: wouldn't have said it if i didn't want to
Ukai Keishin: They'll bother you.
y/n: nah
y/n: i can handle it
y/n: you think i can't?
Ukai Keishin: That's not what I said.
y/n: bleh
Ukai Keishin: Should I tell Takeda you're coming?
y/n: yah
Ukai Keishin: 👍🏼
y/n: loser
Ukai Keishin: ??
y/n: you could at least send me something cute
y/n: come on
y/n: i know you've got it on your keyboard
Ukai Keishin: [typing ...]
Ukai Keishin: [typing ...]
Ukai Keishin: [typing ...]
Ukai Keishin: ദ്ദി ˉ꒳ˉ )✧
y/n: took u long enough
Ukai Keishin: I am trying to do my job.
y/n: should i bring drinks?
There's no answer after that. Most likely due to the fact he was doing his job, but you decided to get some anyway. Fifteen sports drinks later, you strolled into the Karasuno gym like you hadn't just badgered your boyfriend for ten minutes straight. You'd get him to go out to eat later—for now, though, you walk to the closest kid and hand him a bag.
Hinata's eyes grow wide at the sight of the sports drinks. He quickly bowed in thanks as he took it, smiling up at you.
"You're awesome!" he said, grabbing one of the fruit punch ones before he ran off with the bag to Kageyama and Tanaka.
The other bag, you had off to Yamaguchi. He wasn't as receptive until he saw what they were, and then he quickly thanked you.
You walked over to your boyfriend, hands on your hips as he instructed one of the boys on how to properly receive the ball without it slipping through their fingertips and hits them square in the face. The sight of you was a welcome change.
Ukai's shoulders relaxed and he smiled in your direction. He was truly in his element.
There's a resounding murmur amongst the boys, some of them going to tell you thanks for the drinks, before your boyfriend eventually came to your side. He kissed your cheek, a fleeting moment that the boys pretended not to see.
"You still hungry?" he asked.
"Starved."
"Wait half an hour and we can go. You think you can do that?"
You grinned up at him. "I think I can manage."
He returned your grin, turning to the team. "Alright! Let's have a quick six by six, yeah? Finish out practice strong!"
You find your place against the wall, arms crossed over your chest as you watched them practice, unable to tear your eyes from the ball for the most part. If you did, you looked at Ukai, the happy man catching your eye and smiling each time.
Maybe you'd get something simple, go to a gas station and make ramen. But then again... Maybe a Korean BBQ place would be nice. Were there any even around?
You whipped out your phone, dead set on finding something that you would both like. As you searched, a simple text message came through.
Ukai Keishin: I love you.
A smile formed on your lips. You could just tell him in person, but you didn't, opting to text him back instead.
Synopsis: Telling the Timeskip!Hq characters to bark for you
•Barks immediately, zero shame, zero Hesitation. They are down bad for you and will get on their knees wearing puppy ears and bark. If you’d ask. They put effort into earning pussy.
a/n: English isn’t my first language, criticism is welcomed but please be nice. Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! Do not steal or copy my work.
n: tysm for more than 400 followers guys wtf!! love y’all
➻❥ SPRING FEVER
➻❥ a 30 day writing event created by @sunee-syrup
DAY 9 ༘⋆✿⁀➷ age gap -> ukai keishin
cw/tags: ➻❥ ukai is mid 20s reader is early 40s, smoking, oral (m receiving), outdoor sex/exhibitionism, swallowing
wc: ➻❥ 1.3k
ִֶָʚଓ་༘࿐ punk's event masterlist ࿐་༘ ʚଓ
ִֶָʚଓ་༘࿐ honee's event masterlist ࿐་༘ ʚଓ
Keishin needs a day off every once in a while, and that's where you came in.
Your smile is easily given, and you're sweet to the customers, always keeping up on stocking shelves and never complaining about cleaning up at the end of the day. When business is slow, you sit behind the counter and read, throwing out an idle comment here and there while he does inventory, and when he finishes, you follow him out into the back alley to lean against the wall and smoke a cigarette. It's comfortable, and you get along well despite the fact that he's your boss and almost twenty years your junior.
He is a good deal younger than you, but maybe he's just the right age—definitely old enough to know better, but still young enough not to care.
It's a Thursday, a slow evening, the last hues of color in the clouds quickly fading into dusk as you lean against the brick wall next to him, shoulder to shoulder.
"Ever been married?" he asks casually, as if he's just making conversation. He knows it's a stupid fucking question, but there's a nagging in the back of his head that won't go away.
You snort, taking the cigarette he's offering you. The brush of your manicured nails against his skin makes him shiver though the evening is anything but cold. "Fuck that noise," you tell him in response, "no husband, no kids, just a little nepo baby money and a good attitude."
Ah, so that's how you afford those designer sunglasses and the pristine way your nails are always perfectly painted and shaped.
He laughs lightly and there's the sound of his lighter flicking to life, "Sounds like a good gig to me."
You hum, kicking absentmindedly at the concrete with the toe of your sneaker. "You got a girlfriend, Keishin?"
You've always used his given name, and the way the syllables roll off your tongue sets something alight in the pit of his stomach.
It's his turn to snort now, letting his head settle against the brick wall, eyes flicking over to see the smirk on your face.
"What are you, my mom? Got a friend with a pretty daughter you wanna set me up with?" He's honestly not sure why he says it, but he finds he doesn't regret it when your smile deepens and something dark sparks in your eyes.
You're quiet for a moment, looking out towards the clouds in the distance, feeling the soft breeze brush against your skin. Wordlessly, you shift on your feet, turning so you're now fully facing him.
Looking down at you, he can't help the way his eyes flit to your lips, full and shining softly with the gloss you're always applying in the reflection of the drink cooler glass.
"Light?" you ask, voice low.
He swallows roughly, already lifting his hand to block the wind, fingertips brushing your cheek, his own cigarette still held carefully while he sparks the lighter. You don't look away, he can feel it, and it's making his cheeks flush deep, all the way to the tips of his ears. You finally inhale and the end of the cigarette glows cherry red. He wonders what your lip gloss tastes like. Cherries? Strawberry? Maybe vanilla.
"Keishin," you call in a low tone, teasing. His lashes flutter, and he forces himself to look away from your mouth, meeting your eyes. He doesn't know when it happened but you're standing close, close enough that he can see the little raised scar at your brow, the fine lines that spider out from the corners of your eyes.
He's the one that moves, much to your satisfaction based on the warm sound you make when his lips meet yours. Blindly flicking his half-smoked cigarette from his fingers to bring both hands up to hold your face, grip possessive. He feels you smile against him when his tongue darts out to brush across your bottom lip, pressing in to tangle with your own.
Heat simmers in the air around you.
"I'm old enough to be your mom," you murmur against his lips. He'll be embarrassed later about the way he just moans in lieu of a response. Your fingers travel across his shoulders, pushing beneath the fabric of his hoodie until they meet warm skin, and then you're biting at his bottom lip and pushing him away.
He whines, attempting to pull you in closer with fingers buried in your hair. "Easy, big guy," you soothe before dropping to your knees, fingers already pulling at the tie of his apron to get to the button of his jeans, lit cigarette still dangling from your fingers. The sun has disappeared now, shadows stretching long across the pavement in the small alleyway, the sound of cars in the distance carried in by the wind.
"Fuck," he bites out when you lower his boxers just enough to pull his cock free. Your hand slips under the hem of his sweatshirt, pushing it a little further up his stomach.
"Hold," you instruct him, already leaning in to mouth across his skin, lips brushing the coarse, dark hair of his happy trail. "This is cute by the way," you add after a few moments. He looks down to watch you toy with the curved barbell that sits at his bellybutton, choking out a quiet sound when you lick at the metal and pull it gently between your teeth.
Before he can say anything else you've taken the head of his cock into your mouth. He's forced to brace himself with a hand against the wall behind you to keep his knees from giving out because you're still looking up at him as you begin to bob your head, humming when he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, fighting tooth and nail not to come down your throat right then and there.
"Fuck you," he grits out when you reach up to press your cigarette between his lips, though it's laced with a rough laugh and closer to a moan than anything else. He takes a drag anyway, the nicotine buzzing in his bloodstream. He lets go of the hem of his sweatshirt to take hold of the filter, flicking it onto the concrete and earning him a halfhearted glare from you, though on the next bob of your head you take him to the base, nose pressed to his skin.
All of his focus on not coming is suddenly transferred to the feeling of your throat squeezing around him, hot and wet. You gag softly, holding yourself in place while you blink up at him with tears pooling in your eyes, somehow looking smug all the while. His hand scrambles to pull you away by your hair, but you're stubborn, and he ends up rolling his hips against you as he comes, fucking impossibly deeper while you just sit there and gladly take it with stars in your eyes.
When you finally pull away it's with a deep breath and a soft cough. He's on his knees in front of you as soon as he's tucked himself back into his pants, hissing at the feeling of fabric against his sensitive length.
"Sorry," there's still a slight shake in his voice, "I didn't mean to be so rough."
You make a hushed sound when he thumbs away the moisture beneath your eyes, dipping in to press a chaste kiss to your lips before he can even really think about it.
"Y'know you're not gonna break me right?" you rasp, still smiling at him.
He doesn't know that, not really. He doesn't know anything, like how he even got into this situation, when he'd grown the balls to be so bold with you-
