
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12389178.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Haikyuu!!
  Relationship:
      Kozume_Kenma/Kuroo_Tetsurou
  Character:
      Kuroo_Tetsurou, Kozume_Kenma
  Additional Tags:
      Vibrators, Crossdressing, Panties, Gags, First_Time, High_Heels, Anal
      Play, Humor, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Sexual_Experimentation,
      Masks, Sexual_Roleplay, Roleplay, Hand_Jobs, Hand_&_Finger_Kink, Kuroo
      gets_wrecked, Sexual_Humor, Explicit_Sexual_Content
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-17 Words: 2082
****** Pussy Quest ******
by neutralize
Summary
          Tetsurou feels like he’s a living sliding scale of
          increased situational weirdness. On the lower end of the
          spectrum: the t-shirt tied around his mouth as a makeshift
          gag and the collar he’s wearing. Higher up, the endless
          looping of some way-too-familiar video game soundtrack
          coming from Kenma’s Bluetooth speakers.
          Kenma himself is hard to decide on: wearing a negligee,
          panties and kitten heels is ultimately ruled as ‘not
          disturbing’, although something Tetsurou could have easily
          gone the rest of his life without seeing.
          The cat mask, however, is giving him serious pause.

     Or: Kuroo looks into the abyss, and the abyss ends up fucking him
     back.
Notes
     I missed it by an hour, but happy belated birthday to my favorite
     Nekoma cryptid and his stupid boyfriend.
     Best read when listening to this_awful_number.
     Huge thank you to my darling Nata for the much needed beta read, as
     well as my irl besties Lady and Sats for helping me come up with bad,
     video game parody hentai titles. Warnings for brief misogynistic
     language and deliberately bad roleplay.
     Rest in fucking pieces, Hanako-chan Kuroo.
Kuroo Tetsurou, by all accounts, has it good – life treats him well as a
student, volleyball captain, and overall epitome of good looks and smooth
talking. Kenma, really, is just icing on the cake; the Nekoma volleyball club
shares a unanimous camaraderie with Kenma, but at the end of the day, it’s
Tetsurou who gets to spend alone time with him outside high school sports.
Tetsurou feels that dicking around is an integral part of their friendship, so
when he casually brings up the idea of experimenting and Kenma not only agrees
but also suggests adding roleplay to the mix, it’s a good day. Though, if he’s
honest, he wishes he’d been the one to set the tone for their first time:
roleplaying isn’t really his cup of tea, and he’s not into video games and nerd
lore to the extent Kenma is.
But it’s Kenma – Kenma making the request, Kenma wanting to take initiative for
once, and everyone thinks Tetsurou is the leader but he always falls quiet when
Kenma speaks. Like most things pertaining to him, he makes the exception for
his friend.
--
He realizes quickly that maybe, in the future, he should have a less cavalier
attitude towards Kenma running the show.
In retrospect, it’s a foregone conclusion Kenma plays hentai titles – the dude
lives and breathes video games, so it’s not surprising that a few have made
their way into Kenma’s impressive gaming repertoire. Underneath the aloof
awkwardness, Kenma is still a warm-blooded teenage boy, and Tetsurou has enough
experience watching over a whole group of them to know that yeah, a guy’s
imagination at this point in his life is usually less than saintly. He can deal
with that. What he does take issue with is evidently the only kind of hentai
Kenma knows is more suited to the deep, dark corners of the internet.
Tetsurou feels like he’s a living sliding scale of increased situational
weirdness. On the lower end of the spectrum: the t-shirt tied around his mouth
as a makeshift gag and the collar he’s wearing. Higher up, the endless looping
of some way-too-familiar video game soundtrack coming from Kenma’s Bluetooth
speakers.
Kenma himself is hard to decide on: wearing a negligee, panties and kitten
heels is ultimately ruled as ‘not disturbing’, although something Tetsurou
could have easily gone the rest of his life without seeing.
The cat mask, however, is giving him serious pause. Tetsurou can roll with the
punches as easy as blocking and breathing, but there’s something downright
unholy in the way the mask’s eyes catch the lowlight of Kenma’s desktop that
makes him want to rethink this entire idea.
The fact he’s also hard as hell is not helping matters much, but he’s going to
have to deal with that later.
“I know you’ve been fucking the vice principal, but I’ll cut you a deal,
Hanako-chan,” Kenma whispers, stroking Tetsurou’s cheek with his fingertips.
Despite the gag and the lurching of his stomach, the prolonged snort leaves him
faster than he can catch it. He quickly forgets what he’s laughing about when
Kenma grabs his neck and mashes his head onto the floor.
“Kenma, what the actual fuck,” Tetsurou half yelps, half snarls through wet
cotton. “When you said roleplay – ”
A sharp sensation digs into the nape of his neck. He hisses when Kenma wedges
the spike of his heel infinitesimally deeper into the space between his
vertebrae. “I won’t give those photos to the school newspaper, if I can fill
you with my cum.”
Tetsurou gasps, tingling shockwaves radiating from his shoulders to the small
of his back. He pretends the twitch in his hips is coincidental. The pressure
lifts from his neck, and he can feel Kenma’s foot roll him onto his back. The
desktop bathes Kenma in eerie white light and Tetsurou’s eyes pan up his heels,
his slim legs, the lace hem of his negligee, the soft slope of his shoulders –
and then there’s the fucking cat mask, staring, unseeing, and Tetsurou is
suddenly back where he started.
Horrified realization pangs in his stomach when it dawns on him that, duh,
Kenma is waiting for him to say something.
“Uh,” Tetsurou begins unintelligibly, before Kenma yanks hard on the collar and
sends him into a spluttering spell. Kenma crouches above him, so low and his
feet spread so wide that Tetsurou can see the bulge and wet spots on his
panties. Underwear. Whatever. As if on cue, his own dick twitches; Kenma
brushes a hand over his temple, his carotid, before drifting down his deltoid.
It’s a surprisingly gentle gesture, given the last five minutes have been the
exact opposite.
“You really are such a disgusting whore, Hanako-chan,” Kenma says, with a
ludicrous amount of fondness in his voice. He’s now sitting on top of Tetsurou,
his hand ghosting down his chest. “Well? Are you ready for the fucking of a
lifetime?”
There are so many things wrong with that statement – this entire situation,
actually – that, for one of the few times in his life, Kuroo Tetsurou has no
smartass response. So he decides to go with it, because he’d be lying through
his teeth if he said he isn’t curious where Kenma is planning to go with this.
Fuck.
He pulls down the gag as much as he can and starts to reach for the mask, but
Kenma swats his hand away. “Don’t get feisty with your senpai,” he says, voice
low with warning.
“Can I at least get this off, before you do whatever? It’s distracting,”
Tetsurou asks, gesturing to the spit-soaked t-shirt dangling around his neck.
Kenma seems to consider this for a moment, before untying it and tossing it to
the other side of the room. Tetsurou only has a few seconds to stretch his jaw
before Kenma’s hands start roving again, this time dipping below his navel. He
bites the inside of his lip and exhales deeply through his nose, soreness
constricting his neck. One of Kenma’s hands tilts his head back, and he doesn’t
bother to stifle the subsequent groan and string of obscenities when
fingernails start to lazily drag downward, slow and deliberate. Tetsurou’s
hands clench around Kenma’s sides and he feels a small surge of smug
satisfaction when Kenma’s breath hitches – just barely, and it’s muffled by the
mask, but it’s there. Kenma’s free hand holds his jaw in place so that Tetsurou
is staring head on into… the cat mask again.
“Look at you, enjoying yourself,” Kenma mutters. “You’re shameless, Hanako-
chan.”
“You know what,” Tetsurou manages to gasp, trying to match Kenma’s quickening
pace by rutting his hips, “if I weren’t enjoying this so much I – fuck – I’d be
mad you’re putting more effort into not breaking character than you ever have
towards volleyball.”
Tetsurou swears his soul tries to leave his body when Kenma pauses. He watches
with rapt fascination as slender fingers – fuckingfinally – work themselves
underneath the mask and Kenma takes it off. Like the t-shirt, the mask is
lobbed to some forgotten corner of Kenma’s room. Tetsurou isn’t sure what makes
his heart stop first: the way Kenma’s eyes shine, half lidded but bright, even
in the dim of the room; the faint hint of a smirk playing at his lips; the soft
strands of hair plastered across thin brows; or the way he breathes, “Would
you?”
Tetsurou shoves his mouth against Kenma’s before his mind can catch up; Kenma
grits out a vague noise of disgust, but doesn’t push him away. Tetsurou’s hands
dive between Kenma’s thighs, only for Kenma to smack them away again. A noise
that’s half groan, half growl, escapes him, and he sets to stroking himself
instead, feeling his abdominal muscles spasm in a way that makes him descend
into a single-minded, primal focus. But before he can settle into a decent
pace, Kenma seizes his hands again and holds Tetsurou’s eyes with the sheer
force of his gaze.
He wordlessly motions for Tetsurou to wait, moving to his desk to paw through
its drawers. Several seconds later, Kenma returns with two items in his hands.
Tetsurou stares, the feeling of hazy euphoria being replaced with sharp,
sobering mortification.
“No way,” Tetsurou tries to deadpan. It comes out squeakier than he wants.
Kenma either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care – probably the latter –
nonchalantly flicking open the cap to the lube. An obscene amount squirts into
the palm of his hand. He slathers the vibrator with it, a cheery pastel pink
decorated with a Hello Kitty print, in a grotesque but arousing display that
makes Tetsurou wish that was his dick in Kenma’s hands instead.
Kenma kneels over him and shoves the vibrator into Tetsurou’s mouth, bombarding
his tongue with sickly sweet candy apple flavoring. As much as he’s not
surprised Kenma would choose flavored lube, and an apple one at that, he gags
and spits out as much of it as he can anyway. “Just like that, Hanako-chan,”
Kenma breathes, voice thin. Mercifully enough he’s not pushing in as deep as he
could, but he’s set a quick pace and it’s only getting faster, forcing Tetsurou
to suck in mouthfuls of air whenever he can. He pushes his luck and curls a
fist around Kenma, who jolts momentarily and bites back a hissing groan.
“Shit,” he hears Kenma mutter. Suddenly he’s backing away, wiping his mouth
with the back of his hand. When Tetsurou pulls his hand back, he can’t help but
be shocked by how slick his fingers are. For a moment he wonders if he touched
Kenma the wrong way, but then Kenma is pressing him flat on his back, nudging
his legs apart and scooping the lower half of his body into his lap. Tetsurou
vaguely registers how cold the vibrator is in between his thighs for a moment,
before he feels something press against his ass.
Tetsurou swallows hard when Kenma teases the tip of the vibrator outside of
him, and his teeth rattle when Kenma slowly pushes in a short distance. It
leaves as quickly as it enters, and the process repeats itself until he loses
count, a dizzying game of cat and mouse. He doesn’t even bother to bite back
the guttural snarl when Kenma works himself further in. He clenches one fist,
nails biting against the soft skin of his palm, and palms himself against with
the other to counteract the uncomfortable sensation. Evidently his own
willpower succeeds and he lets his weight sag into Kenma’s lap, twitching his
back and thighs in increasingly erratic arches.
When Kenma stops with the vibrator Tetsurou opens his mouth to protest but
stops when he feels delicate fingers close in around his dick, watching the
movement completely spellbound. His breaths come out in short, sharp puffs of
air, and it isn’t long before his nerves radiate throughout his body, making
his toes curl of their own accord. Tetsurou forces himself to break the trance
and lift his head up when he hears a soft choking noise cut through the air;
Kenma’s frame is a smooth arc, legs splayed and pawing at himself with his free
hand, shivering. “Kenma,” he manages to spit out; Kenma jumps and meets his
gaze with a look of such intense predatory ferocity that Tetsurou’s dick gives
a tantalizing throb. Kenma licks his lips and breathes, “Kuro,” and that’s it –
it only takes two more strokes for Tetsurou to come, harder than he has in his
entire life.
Kenma finishes soon after, a soft moan that Tetsurou hardly hears over the
sound of his own ragged breathing. For a while they say nothing, although for
Tetsurou, it’s because he has to regain the cognitive ability to form a
coherent sentence.
When the ability does come back, he realizes something horrifying. “Oh my god.
You’ve been playing Mario music the entire time, haven’t you, Kenma.”
“You’re not very observant, are you, Hanako-chan,” is Kenma’s deadpan reply
after a prolonged silence, as if Tetsurou’s realization is the most obvious
thing in the world.
As Kenma gets up to clean himself off, Tetsurou swears he hears him chuckling.
--
--
A week after, Kenma receives an email from Kuro, saying only If you’re game,
and with a file attached. When he downloads the attachment – creatively named
The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Ass – and is greeted with a title screen
featuring the titular princess in an indecent position with an anthropomorphic
moon, he smiles. He has a good mask he can use for that one, too.
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