he corner of his eye.

"i'm getting the bill," he says, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "you get him in the car. i need you both," komori stands, quickly looking down to check if his erection is noticeable.

"now."

---END---

i might make this into a fic.. stay tuned :o

that komori can't make out, something that makes osamu's eyebrows furrow and his lips part in a silent gasp. "fuck."

that does it.

"osamu," komori says abruptly, belatedly noticing that his grip on his own drink has tightened. his knuckles are white.

he grunts and suna glances at komori from

prays that suna doesn't snap out of whatever drunken stupor he's in, that he doesn't stop talking. he /needs/ to keep hearing his, wants to see how far he'll get before he becomes self-aware.

"what if i do?"

"ya pervert," suna says before leaning into lick at osamu's neck. he whispers something

because it does. and hearing two of them, /watching/ the two of them talk like this back and forth... komori's screwed and he knows it as soon as his pants start feeling a little tighter.

"what?" suna slurs, "ya like when i talk to ya? got some kinda voice kink or somethin'?"

komori hopes and

a dialect that /should/ be completely foreign on his tongue. but it's different. and it's hot.

really, really hot.

"keep talkin', baby," osamu breathes, running his fingers through suna's silky hair.

komori swallows hard. he'd be lying if he said that osamu's accent didn't make him hard.

"f-fuck, baby, yer cock's so fuckin' hard already..."

suna doesn't usually drink this heavily. usually he knows his limit and he'll stay within it, but after hammering back colourful and sweet drinks that taste more like juice than alcohol, he's found himself here. drunk off his ass and speaking

this way, when he can only judge what's going on based on their facial expressions and the way their bodies move and still.

whatever suna's doing is working, making osamu put his beer down and reposition suna so that his motions are hidden; and so they don't get caught and kicked out of the bar.

komori watches it unfold like it's a cheap porno, leaning back and trying his best to conceal a giggle. he bites his lip, eyes following where suna's hand snakes down from osamu's warm, soft sweater, down to his cock.

komori can't see what's going on underneath the table, but it's almost hotter

shot that little bitch beat me," he slurs, reaching for his phone and accidentally dropping it into osamu's lap.

a fox-like grin spreads along his face as he slowly realizes where his phone landed, zoning in on his boyfriend's crotch and quickly forgetting the lie that komori told him.

are you feeling okay?"

the brunet responds with a low grunt, fisting the hem of osamu's sweater.

komori pauses for a moment, thoughtful. "i heard atsumu hit 2 million followers before you did." osamu gives komori a stern look.

suna jolts up and squints at his phone on the table. "no fuckin'

oh, he's /drunk/ drunk. he's never done this before, speaking in osamu's native dialect, slow, lazy, and with the sexiest drawl that the pair of them have ever heard.

"guess he got it from hearin' me and 'tsumu argue so much growin' up."

komori giggles before leaning in closer. "hey, suna...

forward to grab the drink, much to suna's annoyance. "stop movin'!" the two men freeze, eyes widening as suna continues to speak. "yer comfy 'n' warm."

osamu and komori share a look before glancing back down at suna, who cuddles into osamu's chest, nuzzling the spot between his pecs.

komori instead, sitting across from them, responsibly nursing his soda and laughing at the sight of osamu giving up on trying to grab the beer on the table. komori helpfully slides the beer closer to the two of them on the other side. "here."

"thanks, babe," osamu says with a grunt, leaning

it's gorgggggg 🤩

ur so real for that 😭