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When Shouyo finally makes his way to the area where Karasuno’s bus is parked, nerves tight in his stomach, the team is already gathered, talking quietly among themselves. It’s a familiar sight, but the frowns they’re all wearing make it a little more daunting than usual. Why is everyone frowning? Has he somehow messed-up already? What if Captain’s decided to bench him already? He hasn’t even gone on the court, yet, and he’s already been benched! What if Captain never lets him play again? What if he’s kicked off the team because he’s just a bench-warmer? What if, what if, what if—
“Hinata,” Sugawara interrupts his spiralling with a friendly smile as he jogs up to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. His senpai feels tense. “Guess what!”
Shouyo swallows, thickly. “What?”
Sugawara ignores how shaky and frail his voice sounds, but his arm tightens around his shoulder, very slightly. “I’m going to be setting for you today! Cool, huh?”
What? Shouyo stops short, even as Sugawara tries to lead him closer to the team, but Shouyo’s feet are planted. His eyes bounce over his teammates, searching through them, checking their nervous faces. He does this once, twice, a third time, but the results are always the same. He doesn’t magically appear. He doesn’t emerge from the shadows like some evil demon come to suck his soul clean out of his body. He’s not here.
“Where…” Shouyo clears his throat, looking up at Sugawara. “Sugawara-san? Where’s Kageyama?”
Sugawara’s friendly smile tightens, more of an awkward grimace now. “He’s sick, today,”
Shouyo blinks. “…Sick?”
Sugawara nods, confirming one of Shouyo’s worst fears. Sick. Kageyama is sick. Shouyo barely realises that he’s moving, Sugawara guiding him to the bus, saying a few brief words to Captain, Coach, and Takeda-sensei that he doesn’t register, before he’s pushing Shouyo up the steps, into the bus. Shouyo blinks, meeting the gazes of his tense teammates. Because of him. They’re all tense because of him. Because he can’t function without Kageyama. Because he’s not a real spiker, he’s just a tool for Kageyama to use to score points. He’s just a decoy. He can’t actually do anything worthwhile without Kageyama the genius around to help him.
It’s only when he sinks into his seat, all alone, that he realises that he doesn’t even have Kageyama around to stuff his pussy full and make his mind fuzzy. Shouyo pulls his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top of them as he tries not to cry or throw-up from nerves. Well… nerves and a little bit of loneliness, a little bit of self-hatred for being useless without his king. Maybe he will throw-up. At least, if he does that he can be benched before he embarrasses himself. Why’s he even bothering to go to the game at all? He’s going to be benched, he knows it, and then Captain and the rest of the team will realise that he’s a one-trick pony, and they’ll never let him play again, and—
His spiralling is interrupted a second time.
Tsukishima reaches over the gap of the aisle again, pinching Shouyo’s shoulder once-more. Shouyo frowns, flinching away from the slight pain. Can’t Tsukishima see that he’s trying to panic in peace? Or is he trying to make it worse? Oh, of course he is. Lanky jerk.
Tsukishima pinches him again, and Shouyo swats at his hand, frown deepening. “What?” he hisses, keeping his voice low to avoid waking-up his napping teammates.
“Get over here, Chibi, for fuck’s sake,” Tsukishima snaps back, pinching him a fourth time and dodging Shouyo’s swatting hand. Truthfully, Shouyo can only squint at the blonde, confused. Does Tsukishima want to sit with him? Unlikely. Even if he did, he’s sitting with Yamaguchi already. Where would Shouyo sit? It just doesn’t make sense!
At least, it doesn’t until Tsukishima makes a familiarly-crude gesture with two fingers, then pats his lap.
Kageyama does that, but only when he— oh.
Shouyo can feel the tips of his ears burning red. He blinks at Tsukishima, then stands up, abruptly, when he goes to pinch him again. Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching too intently, Shouyo shuffles across the aisle, grabbing the back of Ennoshita’s seat in front of Tsukishima when the bus turns around a corner. He stumbles, slightly, and a large hand grips his hip, steadying him. Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Tsukishima has bigger hands than Kageyama. Shouyo feels his face burn even hotter.
“How— how do you want me?” he asks, voice cracking.
Tsukishima blinks up at him, looking very nonchalant. Shouyo doesn’t miss the slight pinkness on his cheeks, though. “Just pretend I’m your precious King, Chibi,” he says, with a forced kind of casualness. Tsukishima lets go of Shouyo’s hip, sitting back in his seat like he has a million better things to do. He might, but somehow Shouyo doubts it.
‘Pretend I’m your precious King’. Shouyo can do that, he supposes. It doesn’t sound too hard.
Carefully, Shouyo hooks his thumbs in his pants, sliding them down his tense thighs, until they’re gathered around his ankles. Then, he does the same with his underwear, embarrassed by the way the crotch of his underwear clings to his already-interested pussy before sliding all the way down. He can’t help it, Tsukishima has very nice hands!
Before he can be teased, Shouyo sits himself on Tsukishima’s lap, perched on his knees and leaning forwards like he always does, hugging the seat in front of him. Ennoshita doesn’t seem to mind, murmuring a sleepy greeting. Assuming the position he always does is sort of comforting. Already, it eases his nerves just a bit, his body relaxing, eager to be played with and filled. Kageyama would stroke a hand down his spine, at this point, and then press down to get him to arch a little more. It’s familiar. It’s routine. Shouyo is ready for it.
But it doesn’t happen.
Instead, there’s the sound of someone spitting, and then one very long finger is being pressed into his pussy, shoved in with little finesse. Shouyo winces, a complaint on his tongue — but that complaint melts away into the smallest of whimpers when Tsukishima’s finger strokes over the sensitive spot inside of him that Kageyama’s fingers often don’t reach. He knew Tsukishima’s freakishly-long fingers would feel so good in his pussy! Why hasn’t he been doing this more often? Why does he even bother with Kageyama when he can rock back on Tsukishima’s long, amazing fingers?
Tsukishima pulls his finger out, ignoring that one perfect place, and shoves a second in, mindless of Shouyo’s pained inhale and the defensive clutch of his pussy. Ah. That’s why. Tsukishima’s an asshole.
“His Majesty spoils you too much,” Tsukishima says, as if it’s an obvious explanation for his roughness, the words muttered right in Shouyo’s ear. “He should just be stretching you out, right?”
Tsukishima’s two fingers twist inside him, tips brushing his cervix, and Shouyo almost drools. “Right…”
“Glad you agree,” Tsukishima smiles that infuriating smile. Then, he properly begins to finger him. In and out, no lingering, no searching for spots that feel good, no teasing drag, only ruthless efficiency. Shouyo should hate it, would hate it… except, every time he pulls his fingers out, then in, his knuckles catch on the stretched rim of Shouyo’s pussy, rubbing it every time, until he can feel how puffy it is. Kageyama always focuses on his inside spots and his clit, but Tsukishima seems to be focusing on rubbing his rim and ghosting his fingertips over his cervix — and he doesn’t even realise!
That, too, is infuriating.
He’s not rubbing with the right amount of force, and he’s not touching his cervix enough. It’s teasing, and Shouyo hates it. He’ll have to take matters into his own hands to get anywhere good. See, this is why he’s always preferred Kageyama. Kageyama spoils him!
Carefully, Shouyo stretches his dangling feet out, until his toes are touching the floor. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough. The next time Tsukishima plunges those two long fingers inside his pussy, Shouyo follows the movement, rising off of his perch very slightly. He waits, until Tsukishima pulls his fingers out — and then, when Tsukishima pushes his fingers back in, Shouyo drops himself down. The pleasure is instant and amazing, his toes curling in his shoes as he digs his fingers into Ennoshita’s seat, his forehead resting against it. Tsukishima’s fingers had definitely touched his cervix that time.
It’s easy to keep the movement up, thighs flexing as he bounces on two of Tsukishima’s fingers, up and down like he’s excited on the court. His pussy is definitely excited, his untouched clit throbbing, his hole fluttering around Tsukishima’s fingers, wetness clinging to the insides of his thighs. Despite Tsukishima’s cocky words about Shouyo being spoiled, he doesn’t stop him from bouncing. In fact, he almost seems turned-on, more force behind his fingers, free hand gripping Shouyo’s hip to guide him up and yank him down, again and again until Shouyo is gasping into the seat in front of him, his thighs trembling.
“Fuck, Chibi, you’re soaked,” Tsukishima mutters, probably louder than he meant to, because it earns him a lazy ‘whoop’ from Tanaka, and a snigger from Nishinoya. Shouyo doesn’t mind. He’s pretty sure his teammates have gotten used to hearing about just how wet his pussy gets.
Though, he’s a little embarrassed when Tsukishima pulls him back, into his chest, and Shouyo whimpers. Tsukishima hooks his chin over Shouyo’s shoulder, face smug and dumb and stupidly handsome. Shouyo is hardly prepared when Tsukishima wraps his free arm underneath his knees, folding them into Shouyo’s chest and stretching his pussy open, shamelessly exposing him and ignoring Shouyo’s squeak of protest — to be honest, Shouyo ignores his own protest once Tsukishima’s fingers are back inside him, pounding deep inside his pussy, making obscene slick noises with no shame at all. He can feel his own arousal dribbling down the curve of his ass, probably seeping into Tsukishima’s pants.
Shouyo doesn’t have the mental capacity to care. He feels like he’s in heaven, his swollen rim being rubbed, talented fingers pressing into his cervix, the hard swell of an erect cock pressing into his ass, Tsukishima’s hot breath on his throat as he throws his head back onto the blonde’s shoulder, unable to swallow down his desperate, gasped-out moans.
Tsukishima mutters a curse and that stupid nickname — Chibi — then presses his lips to Shouyo’s throat, a barely-there scrape of teeth over his pulse point, a groan pressed into his skin.
Shouyo arches and trembles and comes, even though he’s not allowed to, even though Captain will get mad. He comes, and he keeps coming, keeps gasping and moaning, eyes rolling, because Tsukishima doesn’t stop his frantic fingers. He tightens his hold on Shouyo, and he somehow bullies his fingers deeper, roughly shoving against Shouyo’s cervix like he hates it. The pleasure of Shouyo’s orgasm is strung-out, then suddenly piled-up as Tsukishima finally trails his hand down, rubbing the pads of two fingers against his pulsing clit — and something happens.
Shouyo is pretty sure he cries out, louder than he ever has before. His leg jerks, kicking Ennoshita’s seat. He feels hazy and fuzzy with an intense, almost painful pleasure that prickles up and down his body.
His pussy squeezes around Tsukishima’s fingers, and he squirts, eyes rolling back into his head.
Either he blacks-out for a moment, or Shouyo blinks for a really long time. When he opens his eyes again, Tsukishima’s fingers are out of his pussy, dripping wet and flushed pink, gently rubbing up and down through his folds as he twitches and quivers. His legs have been set down, and they’re trembling too. The back of Ennoshita’s seat looks like it’s been sprayed, squirt dripping down it, gathering in the small puddle on the floor. Yamaguchi is red-faced and leaning over him, frowning and concerned, and he’s not the only one; Ennoshita, Tanaka, Nishinoya, Sugawara, Captain, Coach, even Asahi are all staring at him, though they haven’t left their seats. All of them are red-faced, too.
“I thought that only happened in pornos!” Nishinoya breaks the silence, beaming with flushed cheeks. Next to him, Tanaka nods, quickly.
“Don’t be stupid, squirting happens in real-life, too,” Sugawara scoffs, rolling his eyes and turning back in his seat. Captain lingers for a moment, shoots Tsukishima a cross look, and then turns back in his seat also.
Tanaka and Nishinoya don’t turn back. “Go on, punk!” Tanaka heckles, hands cupped around his mouth. “Stick it in him! See if you’re better than Kageyama!”
“Not with you two watching,” Tsukishima’s chest rumbles against Shouyo’s back when he talks. It makes his pussy clench, which Tsukishima obviously feels, because he slides his fingers over Shouyo’s clit, just to make his hips twitch, a whimper slipping out of him. But he doesn’t do anything, only rubs as he stares down Tanaka and Nishinoya.
When they finally turn back around, pouting and joking amongst themselves, only then does Tsukishima move. He hoists Shouyo up as best he can with one arm, reaching underneath his limp body to yank at his own pants, until Shouyo can feel the hot, firm pulse of a cock being pressed against his puffy, sensitive hole. Truthfully, Shouyo doesn’t care how raw his insides feel, he wants Tsukishima’s cock in him now.
He gets his wish, but not as quickly as Kageyama usually grants it.
Tsukishima is longer than Kageyama, but he takes his time, whereas Kageyama usually just slams it inside. With this, Tsukishima is gentle, easing his pink tip inside with a steady exhale. He presses deeper and deeper, snug against Shouyo’s cervix, pushing all of Shouyo’s inhibitions away, to the careless corners of his mind. He’s not fully inside. If he was, he’d be breaching Shouyo’s cervix, tip in his womb. Shouyo tightens at the thought, and Tsukishima hisses.
“Stop clenching,” he mutters, chin on Shouyo’s shoulder. “You’re tight enough, already, Chibi,”
Shouyo wants to argue against that nickname, he really does, but he can’t deny it. He’s short and slight and small — everywhere. It’s undeniable. The evidence is right there, in the little swell of his abdomen, where Tsukishima cock is pressed deep inside him. Well… Shouyo can get used to being Chibi if this is his reward.