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The team bursts into the locker room, hooting and hollering after a close win.
Atsumu leads the pack, Hinata in a headlock while the rest follow close behind.
“We fuckin’ cooked ‘em!” he yells, before it turns into a bellowed laughter as Hinata grabs him around the waist and hauls him in the air, the taller man not letting go until he’s on his feet and their grips melt into their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. The rest of the club are no better, the atmosphere rowdy as they hug and tussle and shove each other around in shared adrenaline and excitement.
Then the cheerleaders enter.
Pretty girls and bois, themselves a little sweaty from their routines, stroll into the locker room with eyes on each of their favourites. All but the newbies (they gotta have something to work towards, after all) find themselves with an armful of eye candy, while lucky captain Meian gets his both regular girl and the newbie for him to initiate.
It’s a well-known tradition in the Jackals, a reward for them when they perform well and something to take away from a player if they start messing up. It’s no wonder they’re the top team in the league. The criteria is strict, with size and looks a major concern as much as dancing ability or team coordination. It’s mostly unspoken, but the higher-ups clearly want the players to loom over their cheerleaders, appear as if they’re pillars of masculine accomplishment.
It helps that they sell plenty of calendars and photobooks that way, too.
Of course, going in Atsumu was hoping to bag the sluttiest chick going, find someone as happy to worship him as he was to be worshipped. He bragged for years to his brother about how he’d get the hottest bitch on his arm while he serves rice to old ladies or whatever he normally does.
Motherfucker fell off his chair laughing when he brought Sakusa home.
He couldn’t help it! He didn’t think he was into guys, didn’t particularly see the point of letting any in as cheerleaders, but then he saw the boi’s long legs during practice and he was doomed. Not that he’s the only cute guy in the cheer squad, there’s a few pretty little things that Hinata and Bokuto in particular have latched onto, but his Sakusa blows them all away!
The poor thing was a nervous wreck at first, clearly unused to sharing a locker room filled with so many loud guys, Atsumu very much included. It took a few months to acclimate, to get used to serving the blonde along with all the others, but now he does it like it’s second nature. Like the rest of the cheer squad, it’s like he has an inbuilt slutty need to please a man (maybe the coaches select for that too).
Even now, outside of the atmosphere of the club, noone never think Sakusa would fit in his role. He’s shy and obsessed about his cleanliness, two things that you absolutely cannot be when you’re the prize pool for a room of sweaty jocks. Then again, noone would think that the quiet boy would ask Atsumu to be his boyfriend, so he’s full of surprises.
There’s still a moment of hesitation for Sakusa as he approaches Atsumu, eyeing the seated blonde’s sweaty body. It’s clear that the hesitation is being overtaken as his cheeks turn red, not that Atsumu blames him. As much as Atsumu is obsessed with the shorter boy’s lithe form, Sakusa is just as turned on by the bigger boy.
While not as burly as Osamu or Bokuto, Atsumu’s certainly no slouch, with plump pecs and two sturdy columns of muscle on his midsection. Only Bokuto has thicker arms than him (and it stings that he has to work for these guns while the white-haired dummy is just like that). He can’t wait to be older and retired so the constant drills and games, which require him to keep his calorie intake high, stop getting in the way of getting absolutely shredded. Sakusa disagrees, but he just doesn’t see the vision.
The little slut gets to enjoy him how he is now, though, and enjoy he does. His shyness doesn’t last in the face of Atsumu, still lightly panting from exertion, as he comes close enough for Atsumu to wrap an arm around and bring between his spread thighs.
“Ya looked so fuckin’ hot out there, babe,” Atsumu says, enjoying how Sakusa averts his eyes from the compliment, “almost hard to focus with you in this little thing.”
Atsumu flips up the front of Sakusa’s little skirt, standard issue for the cheer squad, and eyes how his little dick is already straining the front of his panties. Those aren’t standard issue and it took a long time to convince his boi to wear those.
“Fucken’ slut,” he drawls, letting go of the fabric, gaze turning to Sakusa’s already half-lidded eyes, “you throw those shitty little boxers away like I told you?”
Sakusa flushes even harder, then nods. Atsumu grins, legs go of the smaller boy’s waist to instead fist his hair and tug him close. Sakusa takes the instruction and leans forward, little hands planted on the blonde’s broad shoulders as he clambers onto Atsumu’s lap.
“Good slut,” he growls, letting go of Atsumu’s hair to instead clap both hands down on his plentiful cheeks. It’s another area that Atsumu’s encouraged his boi to work on, rewarding him whenever they get fatter. His dick, usually stuffed down one leg of his shorts, starts to rise in earnest. Already ten inches soft, it only gets bigger under the pressure of his boi’s mostly-bared ass as Atsumu dives in.
Sakusa is helpless under the bigger boy’s attention, moaning as Atsumu licks a stripe up his neck and sucks hickey after hickey into his collarbone. The blonde knows he won’t last long; the intensity of the game, the intimacy of running and jumping and living and dying with his fellow guys, does wonders for his libido and he’s been needy the moment he stepped off the court.
“F-fuck, ‘tsumuuuu,” Sakusa whines, looking from him to the rest of the locker room. Everyone else is just as turned on as them, cheerleaders on their knees or also on their mens’ laps like Sakusa. Hinata already has his dick down his cheerleader’s throat, his lack of height compared to his assigned boi not stopping him from bulging that throat out. Bokuto has his entertainment pressed against a locker, keeping him suspended in the air as he pummels those pert cheeks like a feral beast.
“Fuck…” Atsumu groans in agreement, “ass up, slut.”
He hooks his fingers into Sakusa’s panties, slipping them down as the boi rises to his knees over Atsumu’s lap. Sakusa, familiar with their routine at this point, leans against the locker behind the bench while Atsumu shucks his shorts down. It takes a few moments to fight his rigid fourteen-inches until he can stretch the fabric around his length.
He lets go of his shorts, attention immediately back on the ass hovering above him, and returns his hands to their rightful place with a clap that’s almost indistinguishable from the already-raunchy cacophony of the locker room. Sakusa’s squeak as the blonde’s big hands impact him are clear as day, however, as is his whimper when he’s dragged downwards. Lithe hands return to his shoulders, keeping the boi grounded as Atsumu handles his prize.
“Such a good bitch for me, baby,” Atsumu groans when that already-prepared hole kisses the tip of his dick, giving way as he’s slowly but firmly pulled down. When he found out that Sakusa was a virgin, it satisfied something primal within him to be the first to break that hole on his monstrous dick, but there’s something so perfect about how he feels now. It’s almost comfy how his boi’s insides hug his dick, gently massaging inch after inch until he’s seated all the way on Atsumu’s lap.
Atsumu growls, primal and needy, while Sakusa cries out like a broken whore. Both of them immediately look to the boi’s stomach as it distends from the blonde’s overwhelming length. Just like Atsumu itself, it’s demanding, taking what it wants from Sakusa’s body with no room for argument.
With shaky legs, Sakusa slowly lifts his ass. Atsumu provides no help, his hands too busy squeezing and kneading the raven’s cheeks to actually support him. He just wears his lazy smile as his boi pouts down at him but keeps rising until he’s propped up on his knees.
Only then does Atsumu grip as hard as he can, fingers denting that fatty flesh, and slams that fat ass all the way back down. It’s a cruel pattern, making his already-wrecked boi do the work of lifting himself up and then doing the easy work of slamming him down. That obscene bulge reappears every single time, Atsumu’s cock as lazy as it’s owner as those pliant insides mould themselves around it.
He feels like a fucking king, worshipped by his sluts insides as the boi strains to service him despite also going through a gruelling routine. It’s his right as the man, the star on the court, to have his cock so thoroughly laved over by Sakusa’s slutty pussy, to have his boi dress to his desires and go crazy for him.
Fuck, he’s close.
Every clap of their hips meeting, the sight of Sakusa’s little dick bobbing up and plapping down on his little balls draws him to his peak. His instincts overtake him, something bestial inside him activated by the sight before him and the sensations around him making him finally grab Sakusa by the hips. He stills his boi halfway up his cock and drives his hips up, finally doing the work of fucking into that slutty little boyhole.
As divine as it felt to be worshipped, it feels fucking right to take charge, to bully his dick into those insides and ruthlessly poke his belly out every single fucking time.
“F-fuck! You little bitch! You’re f-fucking mine!” Atsumu bellows, stealing a few glances as his balls draw close. He pulls Sakusa back down, revelling in his boi’s squeal of pleasure as he unloads rope after rope inside his cheerleader’s guts. He finally lets go of Sakusa’s hips, arms wrapping around his slender back and shoulders to tug him close. With their height difference, his leggy boi only has an inch on him even as he straddles the bigger boy’s lap, and the blonde adores it.
Even as he keeps cumming inside, he nuzzles into Sakusa’s cheeks, licks up and down, anything to feel as much of him as he can in the midst of his orgasm. It’s as he finally tails off that he feels a wetness on his clenched stomach and sees that his boi has also cum, the creases of his flesh dripping with watery jizz.
“Fuck… good boy…”
He grins, nuzzles his face against Sakusa’s once again. The cheerleader whimpers, his soft dick grinding against the blonde’s abs and trailing the last few drops that he didn’t squirt like a pretty girl.
The coach will probably be in soon, have the star players (Atsumu very much included) get showered and changed for the post-match press conference. For Atsumu, that’s just another chance to show his little trophy off to the world, give his fans the sight of his slutty boi hanging off his arm. And of course, that means taking Sakusa in for a shower as well, and who could turn that down?
The rest of the locker room is either finished or finishing up, only Bokuto still going like the madman he is. Atsumu almost feels sorry for that cheerleader, but seeing as his eyes are rolled to the back of his head and his tongue lolls out like he’s been fucked beyond any human dignity, he doesn’t feel that bad. Hinata is already vacant, presumably in the showers for round 2; he’s the only one that gets even dumber than the boi taking his dick, which is impressive with Bokuto around.
Atsumu doesn’t mind taking his time, though. After all, he’s got all the time in the world to rail his boi until he looks pregnant.
Osamu can laugh at him all he wants for his bravado. He’s fucking winning.