🍋🟩 𝐥𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐫-𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 established hinata/reader x kageyama ⸻ 2.7k, mature, minor humiliation, accidental voyeurism
Tobio is surprisingly pretty.
It shouldn't be a shock, really. He's tall, lithe, handsome. Cool, calm, collected. Slightly blunt. Thoughtful. Talented. Truly, the perfect coalescence of traits given to every famous romance k-drama lead that have viewers like yourself screaming into your pillow.
You'd never tell him this of course.
Tobio would be insufferable about it. You can already picture it. The insistence with which he'd pretend he couldn't care any less about you comparing him to those characters you openly crush on. The quiet ways he would find a way to weaponise it and make your life miserable. You’d never be able to insult him. Or compliment him.
You’d never be able to talk to him again, realistically speaking.
It's just not worth it.
Boy do the words sit primed on your lips, though.
Because he is pretty. A this-boy-looks-like-a-girl type of pretty. With delicate, soft energy to his features that is, on reflection, probably why he had a hoard of chocolates in his locker every valentine's day in high-school—much to your chagrin.
Whatever. They're not the ones with Tobio in at their feet right now.
You are.
Gently, you touch your fingers to the underside of Tobio's chin and tilt his head up to examine the dark brown eyeshadow smudged along his upper lash-line.
"My back hurts," Tobio mumbles tiredly, eyes closed.
You drag your brush from the corner of his eye, outwards, beginning to blend the pigment out into a subtle wing. "Beauty is pain, Kags. Hold still. Besides, you've only been sat for like 20 minutes you big baby."
Tobio scoffs, fiddling with the cuff of your sweats absently. His knuckles brush the skin of your ankle.
At your request, he’s seated on the floor between your legs. Your perch on the sofa gives you the best angle, because you take your job as newly appointed makeup artist very seriously, and it comes with the added bonus of Tobio’s big wide eyes staring up at you whenever you give him permission to open them. Although it may be a drawback considering how you keep getting distracted each time he does so. Simply a matter of perspective, you decide.
Now, you have no real explanation as to why Tobio is allowing you to do his makeup. Perhaps he got also bored of the Star Wars movie marathon that has been your entire afternoon so far, but he's usually a star student of lazy days. You, on the other hand, can only stomach them for a limited amount of time before you start to feel that familiar itchiness of inactivity. Your boyfriend is much the same.
"Can you do mind next?" Shoyo asks, splayed out on the remainder of the sofa beside you. His feet are resting on your thigh, and tucked between his legs is your makeup bag. "I wanna match Kags."
"Like I don't do yours all the time," you huff, half-distracted as you select a brown-ish maroon shade, cant Tobio's head further back with your fingers, and use a new brush to run it under his lower lash-line. "Let him have his moment."
Tobio grumbles his wordless dissent.
“First of all, untrue,” Shoyo begins, “Second of all—“
"Hush," you interrupt, chiding. “I’m focusing.”
Shoyo digs his toes into the side of your thigh playfully. "Please?"
Ignoring him, you repeat the action on Tobio's other eye before leaning back and tilting his head side to side in order to check that your work is even.
"Pretty please?"
You hum a random tune, pretending to not hear him.
"Pretty please with a cherry on top and the promise of a sexual favour later?"
Tobio makes a sudden gagging noise, blinking one eye open to shoot a dirty look at your boyfriend. Shoyo's expression is the epitome of virtue, eyebrows raised as though what he said was a perfectly average thing to utter in your unfortunately-platonic-best-friend’s presence.
The gall of his statement makes you forget why you were even ignoring him in the first place and you snort, amused.
"Well that certainly changes things," you joke, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively towards Shoyo, brush floating over Tobio's face.
"I'm right here," Tobio mutters, leaning back on his hands so he doesn't get accidentally poked in the eye while you're distracted.
"Never been a problem before," Shoyo replies.
Tobio looks bewildered. "What?"
"You heard me," Shoyo doubles down, a cheshire cat grin spreading across his face.
"Don't be gross," you say, wrinkling your nose and immediately regretting the next words which leave your mouth. "Besides, Tobio doesn't know about that."
Shifting your focus back to the man between your legs, you gesture him closer. He obeys easily, but not before shooting you a weird look.
"What don't I know about?" he asks hesitantly.
"Close your eyes," you reply instead, silently praying that he drops it.
Tobio is nothing if not predictable, and as expected he easily lets you to brush over the comment without fight, doing as you say. It falls quiet. Only the gentle clinking of products knocking together can be heard as you rummage, one-handed, through your makeup bag in search. When you feel a familiar eyeliner pencil under your fingertips you make a triumphant noise, retrieving it and biting off the cap. You run it lightly around Tobio's outer corner to add some depth to the look.
"You really wanna know?" Shoyo asks lowly, propping an arm under his head as he regards an unknowing Tobio.
Tobio makes a thoughtful noise.
"Shoyo," you warn, the vowels mumbled around the cap in your mouth as you concentrate.
"Nevermind," Tobio replies quickly, lips thinning as he presses them together.
"Whatever..." Shoyo sighs, slumping back down and fiddling with the zip of your makeup bag between his legs, dragging it back and forth noisily. "Your loss."
You slide the eyeliner into the cap between your lips and dump it back in the bag before pulling out an eyebrow pencil. Bracing your fingers on either side of his jaw, you hold him still. Quietly you draw small strokes through Tobio's already full brows.
"One time we fucked while you were in the flat," Shoyo blurts, the end of each word blending into the start of the next as though his mouth couldn't catch up with the dialogue option his brain decided to choose.
"Shoyo!" you gawk, eyes darting to the somehow satisfied look on his face in shock.
"I thought I said nevermind," Tobio says, voice pained.
You sigh sharply through your nose, baffled at your boyfriend's idiocy. "What the fuck is your problem?"
Since the two of you figured out your feelings towards Tobio, it's been an unspoken—but meticulously upheld—rule to keep respective hands to oneself whenever he's around your shared flat. You had one fumble. One. A combined product of soju and Shoyo's new haircut at the time. And really, it wasn't even your fault because how were you supposed to resist dragging him off to your bedroom when he looked that good.
Your fingers tighten on Tobio's jaw as you cringe at the memory.
Naturally, you had felt guilty afterwards, and Shoyo was always quick to remind you that Tobio was asleep. Now, with this delightful decision that your boyfriend has made, you're not so sure that rationalisation holds up anymore.
"My bad," Shoyo says, not sounding particularly remorseful at all.
"Didn't realise I had to chaperone you guys," Tobio says, glancing up at you.
"You don't," you hiss, feeling the blush on your cheeks. "Shoyo needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut," you say pointedly, eyes fixed somewhere on Tobio's forehead.
Yet you still see how Tobio's eyes widen at your sharp tone. Wincing, you release his jaw and run a hand down your face to hide from his gaze.
"Not usually your stance on my mouth," Shoyo says airily, seemingly determined to dig his grave.
Tobio makes a startled noise. You echo it into the palm of your hand.
"You've got fuckin' issues, Sho," you say half-crazed, reluctant to look at either of the men who you now feel cornered by.
"Why are you being so shy, hm?" he asks, digging his feet under your thigh. You bristle but don't brush him away. "Is it because Kags is here, baby?"
Your hand holding the eyebrow pencil, previously floating paralysed in the air, now joins the other on your face as you, for lack of a more mature, dignified explanation, hide from having to acknowledge that particular statement. Because it's true, to an extent. And that's the worse part of this humiliation singing through your veins. Shoyo's right.
Between your legs, Tobio is utterly silent. And so badly do you want to peek through your fingers to check that his expression isn't one of pure disgust.
You're not brave enough, though.
"Sorry Kags," Shoyo says, and you can practically hear the shit eating grin in his voice. "You're not usually here when we do this."
You groan, a noise like a dying animal crawling up your throat.
Tobio makes a confused sound. "Do what?"
"Talk about you," Shoyo says simply. As though he's not shooting your friendship with the man in question at point blank range. "All nice things of course," he continues thoughtlessly, chuckling.
"Enough," you gasp. "Enough, Sho."
He hums, unconvinced.
"When?" Tobio asks quietly, thankfully not realising, or simply bypassing what Shoyo had just admitted to.
Beneath your hands, your eyebrows furrow.
Why the hell is he asking that?
"When what?" Shoyo prompts, and you can't help but wonder how they're looking at each other right now. If you're the only one feeling awkward. If you’re the only one that feels a teeny tiny bit, stupidly turned on.
Tobio seems unwilling to elaborate, and silence fills the space.
"Last month," Shoyo replies anyway. "When you fell asleep while we were watching Godzilla. Which is crazy by the way, I still don't get how you managed to fall asleep mid-battle, it's so loud. Worked out for us though," Shoyo tacks on casually.
You peak between your fingers. Tobio is considering your boyfriend thoughtfully, a gentle wash of red (not a credit to the makeup you’ve put on him this far) high on his cheeks.
Then, he turns to face you. You startle at being acknowledged again, and slowly drop your hands into your lap. An apology lays on the tip of your tongue. As though sensing it, Tobio shakes his head.
“C’mon,” he says, looking at you expectantly. “Finish what you started.”
Only after a few long, awkward seconds do you realise that Tobio is talking about his makeup.
🍋🟩
It’s giggling that rouses Tobio from his impromptu nap on your sofa. The soft, muffled lilt of your laughter and the deep baritone of Shoyo's chuckles crawling through the wall, poking the edges of his consciousness.
Half-awake, and with no one around to tease him for it, Tobio smiles at the sound. Lovesick, that's what he is. And for once, he doesn't berate himself for it. Not when the only witness to his affliction is the fictional giant reptilian monster destroying a city on the TV.
"Shh— Sho— shut up—"
"Babe— you're the one being— ngh— loud—"
"Am not—"
"Are too—"
"Am not—"
"Are too— you're always— loud—"
Tobio rolls over onto his side and blearily stares at the flashing screen, listening to the two of you bicker.
Thump.
"—ouch."
"Sorry— ah— can't help— it— you look—"
"You like— it—?"
"Yes— now— be quiet—"
Godzilla's tail swings through a power-line and wrenches it up from the concrete.
"Yes ma'am—"
"Sho— I swear— to god—"
For a few seconds, Tobio wonders if he should holler so you can both talk normally. It is your flat after all and while he appreciates the efforts you're taking to keep the noise down, he's awake now anyway.
Then a moan rings, clear as day, through your little flat.
Tobio freezes.
Static fills his brain.
Another moan sounds—yours, Tobio realises—and another.
A knock against the wall.
A clatter of something falling onto the ground.
Tobio swallows, slowly piecing together the context of the conversation he's been listening to. He lifts the back of his hand to his mouth as it escalates way faster than he's prepared for.
"Sho— fuck—"
"Quiet baby— Kags is—"
"Ngh— don't—"
If Godzilla could kindly climb through this TV and put me out of my misery, now would be the perfect time, Tobio thinks despairingly.
"You look—"
"Sho, right there baby— right—"
"I know— I got you—"
Grabbing the nearest pillow, Tobio presses it over his face and debates the pros and cons of smothering himself. He should be uncomfortable hearing this. Especially when you both clearly believe him to be sleeping.
Instead, Tobio feels hot as his blood pounds in his ears. The guilt swims heavy in his stomach, weighing him down with the force of a thousand suns. And he's pretty sure he can feel himself getting hard. Which is. Brilliant. To say the least.
Maybe he should leave?
But then you guys will know that he heard you both and he'll be put through the beyond-awkward ordeal of accepting your needless, blameless apologies to him because he can already guess that you wouldn't let it lie if you found out you made him ‘uncomfortable.'
In a sense it’s not untrue…
"Ah— ah— ah—"
"Fuck— feel so— good baby—"
Vaguely he registers a loud crash, Godzilla no doubt wreaking some havoc on Tokyo, but Tobio can barley pay it any mind with his two best friends wreaking havoc on his own heart.
Shoyo moans, and a second later it gets cut off. Muffled. And Tobio is awful. A degenerate to his bones. Because he pictures the way you may have tugged Shoyo into a kiss to cover up the sound.
"Doing so well—"
"Baby harder— please—"
Tobio's ears burn.
His mouth is bone dry.
His limbs feel strangely unattached from his body.
And the pillow over his face does nothing to block out any of the visuals his brain is supplying to the soundtrack of you two fucking.
High, sharp, pleasured noises tangle together, creeping up and up and up. Tobio can feel his heart fighting to break free of its cage.
"Ngh— gotta be— quick—"
"Yes, yes— don't stop—"
"Gonna— come?"
"Mm— ah— yes!"
Unbidden, Tobio's palm lands on his crotch.
He doesn't move his hand, but instead shallowly thrusts his hips up into it. Tobio exhales into the pillow at the minimal relief.
"Sho— oh god—"
"I got you baby— go on—"
A filthy, strangled keen hits Tobio like a truck. He wrenches his hand away as you come, face twisting in anguish.
"Keep going—"
"Fuck— pull my hair—"
The chime of your laughter coincides with a deep, gravelly moan as Shoyo comes. Tobio wishes he didn't now know what that sounds like.
It falls quiet. Tobio tastes his fear like bile in the back of his throat.
Then.
"Gotta clean myself up— ew— Sho why do you have to—"
"Hold on— c'mere, babe—"
Another laugh. Another moan.
Tobio makes a pained noise in the back of his throat.
"Sho— seriously—"
"Alright, alright— call me if you need me—"
"I will—"
A door opens and Tobio scrabbles to readjust his sweats, shove his face further into the pillow, and pray that his hard-on isn't obvious all in the same breath.
Steps pad across the wooden floors and the sofa dips next to him. Godzilla roars. A palm lands on his bare ankle, a pinky slipping underneath the hem of his trousers. It's warm. Uncomfortably so. Tobio doesn't dare move a muscle for fear of being found out. The hand strokes his ankle and the person leans back, sighing softly.
Shoyo.
He itches to crawl out of his skin. To push into the touch. To drag the palm up higher.
Most of all though, Tobio just wants to stop feeling the way he does.
Lovesick.
Well and truly lovesick.
🍋🟩 mel's note: kags' makeup is based on my wife sunghoon and his boyfriend sunoo from enhypen, see inspo here <3
