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dust bunny | suna rintarou x f!reader

warnings: 18+, sub(ish)!suna, f!reader, pegging, feminization (suna wears a dress), mommy kink, pegging, mention of tw trump, kind of dubious consent but i assure you suna wants to get pegged even tho he acts like he doesn’t, everyone cyberbullies atsumu in the end <3

w/c: 5.2k (look away)

a/n: hi hi this is my submission for @dilfhub‘s men in uniform collab with a bit of an unconventional uniform hehe. and maybe i didn’t follow the prompt exactly whoops

suna takes one look inside the box he’s been handed by his team’s manager, gingerly pulling the lid open and being met with black fabric and white frills, and immediately hands it back, a scowl on his face.

“i’m not wearing that.”

“oh c’mon, sunarin,” atsumu pipes up from next to him, holding a similar box in his hands. “it’s for the kids.”

“well fuck the kids,” suna deadpans. “i’m not fucking wearing a maid costume.”

“language.” his coach’s booming voice echoes throughout the gymnasium.

“okay, i’m not fricking wearing a maid costume,” he hisses. “why the frick did we choose to do a maid cafe? there were so many other fundraiser ideas. it’s the olympics for god’s sake; we could’ve done a bake sale, a car wash, a shirtless car wash!”

atsumu hums thoughtfully. “a shirtless car wash would’ve been nice.” he rubs his stomach, the fabric of his tank top bunching around his fingers. “i’ve been working on my abs.”

suna huffs at the clear disinterest his so-called friend has for his problem, stomping across the wood-paneled floor of the gym to go up to his coach.

“hibarida, i’m not wearing that.”

his coach doesn’t even bother looking up from his clipboard, checking off some boxes, and responds blankly, “then you’re off the team.” the apathy in his tone tells suna that the conversation is over before it’s begun, and suna storms back over to his teammates, grumbling profanities all the while.

“i don’t understand why it’s such a big deal to you,” aran says as suna nears. “you’re not the type of guy to get all insecure about your masculinity, so what’s the issue?”

“it’s my girlfriend,” he says, plopping down onto the floor, long legs extended. he looks up at aran and atsumu’s curious gazes; they’ve known you for years, ever since you and suna started dating, and they consider you a close friend.

“she’s been wanting me to wear a maid dress for ages.”

“’m not seeing the problem here, sunarin,” atsumu pipes up, brows furrowing as he chews on his lip. “from what is sounds like, she just wants to jump your bones while you wear a lil’ skirt. seems like harmless fun.”

“yeah, man,” aran adds. “she’s dealt with your shit for so long. least you could do is indulge her.”

suna groans, dragging the collar of his shirt up until it’s clinging to the crown of his head, the fabric completely covering his face and muffling his voice. “you don’t understand. she'll go like—" he waves his hands around, "—feral. she'll turn into a nympho."

"oh no," atsumu say sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "sunarin's gonna have his hot girlfriend drooling all over him because he wears a stupid dress. what a tragedy."

suna pops his head out of his shirt and cocks an eyebrow. "you think my girlfriend's hot?"

the air hangs awkwardly as the blond scratches the back of his head.

"...no?"

"oh, so you don't think she's hot?"

atsumu furrows his eyebrows, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips as he thinks very hard and very carefully about what he says next—a rare occurrence.

"no?" he tries. "yes?" he groans. "i don't know what ya want me to say, you're making my brain hurt."

aran shoves suna, almost making him roll over. "stop teasing him. this idiot'll take forever to figure out what to say."

"oi, i'm not an idiot!"

"yes, you are."

"no 'm not! if anything, you—well not you but—'samu's more of an idiot than me!"

"i highly doubt that."

suna lets the bickering fade into the background as he stares up at the blinding fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling, trying to figure out how the fuck's he's going to get out of this one.

"oi, rintarou!" your voice echoes through the hallway as you close the front door behind you, unceremoniously throwing your bag onto the dining table and shedding your coat, hanging it on a chair. "where're you?"

it was an off-day for the japan team, so suna didn't have practice and had the whole day free. typically on days like these, you'd find him sprawled on the couch, halfway through his sixth nap of the day, a chuupet hanging out the corner of his mouth as the tv blares the comical sound effects of some miscellaneous american cartoon. it was surprising to see the couch not only empty, but organized—the pillows aligned at their places on the edge of the sofa and knit blanket folded—with absolutely no sign of your boyfriend.

the mystery deepens as you walk through the apartment in complete darkness. not a single light is on, save for the soft glow of a lamp in your bedroom. you make a beeline for the room, haphazardly shoving the door open, seeing a very sneaky-looking suna crouching, with his entire upper half in the closet.

"jesus," you say, startled. "what the hell are you doing?"

at your voice, suna jerks, his head hitting the bottom of the shelf he'd been looking under. "shit!"

he rubs his head, looking at you with a mildly-panicked expression on his face, shifting his body to face yours while nudging a white box out of your line of sight with his foot. you narrow your eyes, picking up on the action immediately.

"hey, welcome home," he says, plastering on a strained smile. "uh, i was gonna order your favorite for dinner, so i'm gonna go do that—"

he makes a move to get up, straightening his knees and hurrying past you to get out the door, but you stop him with a firm hold on his arm.

"what's in the box?" you raise an eyebrow at him, and he swallows nervously. his eyes dart around the room as if he's trying to pinpoint all possible routes for escape.

"what box?" suna's voice cracks and he fails to cover it up with a cough.

you grip tightens. "don't play coy, rintarou. what's in the box?"

maybe you're being dramatic—that's not entirely out of character. it could just be a surprise gift or something, but if you're being honest with yourself, you're a bitch.

a bitch that really likes seeing suna squirm when he's been caught doing something that he doesn't want you to know.

you're just about to take matters into your own hands and see what's in it for yourself, but the music of your ringtone catches you off guard as it plays from your purse. glancing at suna, you glare.

"this isn't over. move the box and you're dead."

he gulps, nodding. he's already resigned himself to his fate—unlike you, suna knows exactly what's going to happen once you find out. he's screwed.

literally.

walking out of the bedroom, you shuffle through your bag and pick up the phone, lip curling distastefully at the screen when you see it's atsumu calling. that's never good.

"yo!" his obnoxiously cheerful voice sounds tinny as it spills through the speaker.

"hi, atsumu," you respond, already losing your patience. "what's up?" there's the sound of shuffling in the background.

"did sunarin tell you about what we gotta do for the fundraiser? the olympics one?"

your eyebrows furrow—you have absolutely no idea where he's going with this. "no, he didn't. is there something i should know?"

"not really. we're doing a maid cafe cus, like japan," he chortles. "so we've all gotta wear these maid costumes. sunarin was acting all weird about telling you for, uh, reasons, so i figured i'd help him out."

the puzzle pieces start clicking together—that explains your boyfriend's insistence on keeping the box hidden and his weird behavior. you almost want to laugh out loud—it's a fucking maid costume!—at your stroke of luck.

oh man, is he gonna get it tonight.

nine months ago, suna had propositioned you with an interesting offer—something to spice up your sex life.

"i'm not fucking wearing that, you perv," you snorted, looking at the tiny, lacy number that suna had bought for you under the guise of a 'cute costume'. it was a maid costume that strategically showed more skin than not—something straight out of a teenage boy's hentai fantasy.

"aw, come on." suna waved it front of you, the doily of the skirt swaying in the air. "you'll look sexy."

"i always look sexy," you retorted, crossing your arms across your chest. "why do you want me to wear this anyway? is this a sex thing?"

"of course it's a sex thing. it says 'sexy maid costume' on the package."

you rolled your eyes. "forget i asked."

suna moved closer, holding the costume in front of him to see how it would look on your body. he squinted his eyes and tilted his head to the side, a mischevious smile growing on his face. "damn," he whistled. "you'd look really sexy in this."

"shut up."

"i'm serious!"

you chuckled, turning your face to the side in a half-attempt to hide your smile. "okay, fine."

his ears perked up.

"let's say i go along with this. just once," you emphasized. "i dress up and we do this stupid little roleplay and i become your stupid little maid. what's in it for me?"

suna grinned, something playful simmering just underneath the surface. "easy. if you wear this dress," he swished it in front of you for good measure, "i'll wear a maid dress too, and you can do whatever you want to me. anything."

"huh." you hummed, tapping your chin in thought. "anything?"

"...anything legal."

"aw man," you pouted. "so i guess murder's off the table." your lips stretched into a smirk that made goosebumps prickle his skin.

"so i can peg you?"

suna immediately regretted bringing it up in the first place.

his eyes widened. "uh, well..."

"'uh, well...' what?" you laughed, stepping closer to squish his cheeks with your fingers. "come on, what were you thinking about doing to me in this little thing? huh?"

he mumbled something quietly. you released his face.

"didn't hear you."

he coughed. "anal."

"i fucking knew it! so it's fair: an eye for an eye." you pointed to yourself, "maid dress and anal," and then turned your finger around to point at him, "maid dress and anal."

"fine," he grumbled, confused at how he'd won and lost at the same time. "maid dress and anal for everybody."

"exactly!" you hummed, rubbing the fabric of the dress between your fingertips. "karl marx would be proud."

you snicker to yourself at the memory. that was months ago—the sex was great, and you'd done anal plenty of times after that first try, but you'd also completely forgotten about that promise. now that there was such a stark reminder in front of you of your agreement, well, it's no wonder suna was so nervous about bringing up the fundraiser.

that fucking sneak.

"thanks for telling me, atsumu."

"uh, yeah, no problem! just... don't tell him i told you, alright? he has too much blackmail on me, i don't want to get on his bad side."

"of course, of course, don't worry about that! this is just between you and me." you hear a relieved sigh on the other side of the line.

"alright well, that was it. talk to you later, i guess."

"yeah, totally. have a good night."

you stroll back into the bedroom with a smug smile on your lips, heavily contrasting suna, who's so pale and nervous that he looks like he's going to pass out.

you wave your phone in front of his face. "so, a dear teammate of yours told me something interesting."

he groans, dragging a hand down the front of his face. "was it atsumu? i swear to god i'm going to kill that son of a—"

"—i'm neither going to confirm nor deny that statement," you quip. "but someone told me that you've got a maid costume in your possession."

"yeah, well," he flounders for an excuse, before dropping his head. "yeah."

you make an amused sound. "maid costume... maid costume... i remember something about a maid costume... a bit of a quid pro quo. that ringing any bells for you?"

he fiddles with his fingers, looking anywhere but you. "uh huh."

"i think it was something along the lines that if i wear a maid costume and get fucked in the ass, you wear a maid costume and get fucked in the ass. that sound right?"

he winces. "you sure it wasn't, like, i wear a maid costume and make you breakfast-in-bed? 'cus i make great pancakes."

you give an apologetic smile—you both know that you don't mean it, not in the slightest. "no, i don't think so. i think you agreed to get pegged."

suna grits his teeth. "yeah, i guess i did."

you walk towards him until he's pressed against the wall, gazing at you with barely-concealed lust. his heart beats wildly in his chest as you run your thumb over his lower lip, his cheeks flushed pink and pupils dilated. his lips part slightly as you wedge the finger between them, and they close over the first knuckle.

you chuckle.

this is suna rintarou—behind his otherwise disinterested exterior, he's really nothing more than a desperate cockslut if you press the right buttons. with some light touches and filthy words, it's easy to get him all cute and flustered and needy.

he suckles on the tip of your thumb as you push it further into the wet heat of his mouth, pressing down on his tongue until drool trickles from the corner of his lip. satisfied by his near-immediate submission, you pull it out of his mouth and he makes a small sound at the loss.

you tilt your head towards the box, still on the floor and half-buried in the closet.

"why don't you go put that on, hm?"

suna inhales sharply, and you watch as he walks towards the closet, retrieving the white box. he lifts the lid and removes the dress, letting it hang over his arm. you’re too caught up in thinking about how it’ll look on him, how cute he’ll look all dressed up, your eyes zoning out on the dress. it’s only when he clears his throat that you draw your attention back to him.

his face is flushed, dashes of pink across his cheeks and nose. he doesn’t meet your intense gaze, fiddling with the frilly hem of the dress. “don’t watch,” he mumbles.

you chuckle, granting him some mercy and averting your eyes.

“don’t look.”

you huff. “i won’t.”

you hear the shuffling of clothing and see a flash of mahogany as he whips his shirt off and throws it somewhere, waiting patiently. after a few moments of silence, curiosity gets the best of you, and you sneak a quick glance in suna’s direction.

you’re met with a pair narrowed, celedon-colored eyes staring at you from across the room.

“bitch,” he hisses. “i told you not to look.”

turning towards him, you cock an eyebrow. "do you really want to take that attitude with me right now, brat?"

he stills, face flushing bright red.

"sorry," he mumbles, flattening the pleats of the skirt with his palm. "i don't wanna be a brat."

"go lay on the bed," you say, voice disinterested. you try not to smirk at the way the fabric of the dress twitches as suna's cock hardens at your words. you open a drawer and yank out a bottle of lube before tossing it to him. "and loosen yourself up for me, would you?"

you head out of the bedroom, leaving behind a very flustered and very needy suna, eyes wide and mouth slack-jaw as he watches you leave.

pushing open the bathroom door, you immediately head to the small closet in the corner, reaching behind a pile of towels and paper towel rolls that inconspicuously hide the black strap hidden behind them. you blindly grab until you feel the squishy silicone shaft and the leather of the harness, smiling as you pull it out of its hiding spot.

you nearly rip off your clothes in haste, images of suna's fucked-out face flashing in your mind and making your clit throb as you shimmy into some black lingerie. posing in the mirror, you let your hands trail along your tits, down your sides, and across your ass, admiring your soft curves and sharp edges.

"man, i really am sexy," you whisper to yourself.

the cherry on the top is the strap—you lift the leather straps up your legs, tightening them so they're snug on your thighs. you look back in the mirror, giggling quietly as you swing your hips and the dildo swings with you.

"and i'm sexy with a dick."

you examine your face for a quick second, eyes darting over the reflection of your features while you try different faces: snarling, blowing a kiss, biting your lip.

you're just about to pretend to give yourself a handjob, snickering all the while, when a muffled moan makes your ears perk up.

oh yeah. suna's in there... fingering himself...

the thought makes you embarrassingly wet, and you slip a finger just over your clit to alleviate some of the tension.

this isn't the first time suna's subbed for you and had something in his ass—the two of you have experimented with fingers and toys—but never have you tried anything so... intimate.

never have you fucked him.

your body burns with arousal as you creep back into the bedroom, and you gnaw at your lower lip.

when you walk through the door, you're met with suna on his back, legs bent and spread wide, two fingers inside his hole, slick with lube. his head is thrown back onto the pillow, hair disheveled as it plasters to his forehead, and eyes are closed. quiet curses float through his lips—he probably doesn’t want to be too loud so that you hear him from the other room.

with every move of his fingers, he writhes, hips shifting as he tries to get his fingers in deeper. he adds a third, rotating his wrist and curling his fingertips. suna lurches, eyes shooting open, as he moans loud from the direct stimulation to his prostate.

his watery gaze focuses on you and he whimpers, taking in you in your full glory—the outfit that you're decked out in accentuates your body perfectly, emphasizing his favorite parts of you, and his eyes widen at the sight of the strap hanging from your waist.

he chokes on a sob because oh my god, you're going to be inside him.

"please," he whines, removing his fingers from his ass, careful not to touch the white frills of the dress that rest on his upper thigh. "i need it so bad."

you exhale, approaching the bed with an unreadable expression on your face, before crawling over him. you lean forward so that your tits are brushing against his chest, lips teasingly close to the sensitive spot on his neck. you blow lightly, snickering at the way he shudders at the cool sensation.

"aw, baby needs it? you need mommy's cock inside you?"

he drops his head onto the bed, looking at you with pleading, glossy eyes. spreading his legs wider, he gives you room to shift your weight and lightly grind the strap against him, making him shudder.

"yes, please fuck me. i want you to fuck me, i need you to fuck me, please—"

his words stumble off into a strangled groan as you slick up the silicone with lube before pushing, just the slightest, into his hole.

he clenches around the tip, body trembling at the intoxicating intrusion. you hike up his legs a little more, raising your hands to hold the soft skin on the underside of his thighs, pushing his knees to his chest.

you rock your hips in another inch and suna keens, eyes rolling back and hand coming to clutch your wrist in an attempt to keep himself grounded.

"f-fuck," he breathes as you give little thrusts that force him to take more and more of the dildo. he mewls at the stretch. "i f-feel so full, oh fuck!"

"yeah?" your voice is strained as you see suna below you, the erotic position making you even hornier. "you feel good?"

he whimpers, his hands coming up above his head to tangle themselves in the sheets. he loves this—just laying back and taking whatever you give him however you want to—the perfect pillow princess.

"feels s'good, mommy," he gasps, shutting his eyes tight. "you fill me so well, fill me so much, gonna make me—"

you bottom out, pressing the spongy tip of the strap directly against his prostate, and he sucks in a breath like the wind's been knocked out of him.

"holy shit."

noting his reaction, you aim at that spot again, his thighs flexing at your sides. "does this feel good? right here?"

"mm, yeah," he hums, back arching off of the bed to urge you deeper. "right there, fuck, right there!"

you establish a steady rhythm, the slick noises of your hips meeting his ass filling the room. suna's untouched cock bobs helplessly along his abs, drooling pre-cum, and you almost feel bad at the way he pitifully glances down at it.

"will you—can you touch me? please, mommy?" he gives you puppy dog eyes, lower lip jutting out, before you thrust in again and his eyes close as he moans.

"sure, baby," you hum, dropping one of his legs to wrap your fingers around his cock. "all you had to do was ask."

you slowly stroke up and down, matching the movement of your hips.

"ah, mommy, feels so so good," he sobs mindlessly. "so good, mommy, you feel so good inside me."

you bite back a moan of your own as his words soak your pussy, the ache in your clit incessantly begging you to indulge yourself.

and god, you want to—you want to slip a finger or two down your panties and swirl them in patterns that make you see stars. you want him to stuff his cock inside you and hit that gooey spot that turns your limbs to jelly. you want it so bad—you're selfish—and it honestly pains you to see suna like this, writhing in pleasure, with absolutely no physical relief for yourself, save for the occasional pressure on your clit.

"can i stop?" you begin slowing your thrusts, making suna crack his eyes open.

"y-yeah, of course," he says, voice hoarse. "why, do you not like it?"

you shake your head, fingers trembling as they remove the harness. "no, fuck, i love it," you insist. "but i just," your hands trail up his chest as you straddle him, "god, i want you inside me so bad."

his eyes widen as you hover over him, lining up his cock with your drooling pussy. you glance up, a hesitant expression on your face. "that okay with you?"

he groans, hands coming up to rest on your hips. "shit, yes. use me, mommy. do whatever you want, fuck."

with that, you slowly drop down, letting your walls adjust to the stretch of his cock. "hngh, you're so big," you breathe. "feels amazin'"

suna can't respond, only choked whimpers coming from him as your tight, wet cunt envelops him and makes his stomach pool with arousal. his eyes are locked onto the erotic way your tits bounce as you rock your hips, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist as you begin picking up the pace.

your knees and abs are screaming, already exerted from when you were pegging him, as you lift your body up and drop it down on his cock again and again and again. you're so pent up—you can already feel your orgasm creeping up on you after just a minute—and as suna twitches inside you, you know that he's close too.

"m-mommy," he whispers. "kiss me? please kiss me, i've been so good, a good boy just for you, yeah? please?"

you almost scoff—good, my ass—but he looks so desperate and you feel so desperate, that you consider letting it slide just this once.

at your silence, he slowly begins panicking—he's gonna cum soon and he wants to feel you, he wants to feel your lips on his, he wants it more than anything he's ever wanted before, so why won't you just say yes?

"please, mommy," he begs, voice pitching upwards. "god, please, fuck, mommy, please? kiss me? 'm gonna cum, please kiss me when i cum? please, please, please, 'm sorry, i want it, i need it, fuck, mommy, kiss m—"

you cut him off with a hungry kiss, your hands pushing down on the planes of his chest to balance yourself. it's like the two of you have been starving as you lap at each others' mouths, tongues and teeth licking and nipping. the rumbly vibrations of his moans flow through your lips as he bucks his hips up, eagerly getting more friction from your gushing cunt.

the sounds of your skin and mouth against his are downright lewd, but they just turn you on more as you gyrate your hips, wanting to get even dirtier noises from suna.

one of his hands trails down your waist and across your stomach to toy with your clit, and you jerk, the muscles in your abdomen clenching painfully.

"oh, fuck," you say breathily, throwing your head back. "that feels so fucking good."

his thighs quiver as you continue fucking yourself onto him. "shit," he hisses, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes at the overwhelming pleasure. "you're so fucking tight, mommy, shit. gonna fucking milk me dry—"

with another movement of your hips, you're sucking in a breath—the feelings of being so full, having your clit stimulated, and seeing this debauched version of your boyfriend quickly, quickly sending you to your peak.

"'m gonna cum," you moan airily. "cum with me, fuck, be a good boy and cum with me."

"yes, mommy." suna's wrecked—tears are streaming down his face and neck, his lips are bitten raw, and his face is so flushed—he just looks so fucking cute. with another flutter of your pussy around him, his eyes roll back in his pretty, empty head, and a whine is ripped from his throat.

"cumming!"

you feel hot spurts of his cum inside you and in an instant your thighs twist and you're cumming with him, a high washing over your body and dousing you in indescribable pleasure that has your veins burning in desire and limbs shaking in a full-body shiver. you all but collapse onto suna's sweaty chest, the two of you panting and catching your breath.

he gently wraps his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you into a lazy kiss. "you should peg me again," he whispers into your lips. "just, properly next time."

you make an offended noise. "it's tiring!"

"mhm, okay." he presses his lips against your forehead before yawning, shuffling you so that you're laying on top of him. "we'll clean up in a few."

"sure," you say, exhausted. "because we never fall asleep."

within a few minutes, you've both dozed off in each others' arms, bodies simmering in the glow of post-sex haze.

the next day, atsumu gets a twitter notification bright and early. he groans, opening his eyelids just a sliver to see that it's from suna tagging him in something. shrugging it off, he makes a big show of turning over, burying his head under the pillow.

he almost immediately regrets the decision of ignoring the post, because approximately seven seconds later, his phone is pratically blowing up, the dings and whistles of notifications of every single social media app he has bouncing around the room.

exasperatedly, he unlocks his phone, eyes widening to the size of saucers as he clicks on the very first notification and opens twitter.

@sunarin posted a minute ago: “atsumu miya farts in his sleep.” > click to view video

hands shaking in fear, atsumu clicks the link only to see exactly what was advertised: a video of him passed out in a hotel room, farting and then mumbling in his sleep. to his horror, the video only continues, shifting to another clip, another clip, and yet another clip, all of them showing the exact same thing in different times and different places: him farting in his fucking sleep.

it's a fucking compilation of all the years suna's known him. some of them are even from his time at msby—how the hell did he get his hands on those?

“i have eyes everywhere,” suna'd once told him back in high school. “i'm like big brother. so it'd be in your best interest not to piss me off when you're famous.”

“well, shit," atsumu mutters to himself, scrolling through the endless line of notifications, each of them accompanied by emojis and amusing comments. "suna's just committed social murder."

he racks his brain for something that could've set him off, when his mind immediately flashes back to his conversation with you.

"there's no way..."

"rin, you really didn't have to do him like that," you say between chuckles, absolutely no force in your words. "public relations is gonna die trying to fix his image."

suna nuzzles further into your neck, his phone long-forgotten in the bedsheets. "that fucker deserves it," he responds sleepily, leaving a line of kisses along your collarbone. "i told him not to fuck with me."

"yeah, but," you gently scratch his scalp and he lets out a happy noise, "you got some good sex out of it. so—"

"—not just good sexy, baby. really good sex. like amazing sex."

"so shouldn't you be thanking him?"

suna opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again, the gears shifting in his head. "i mean, i guess."

you snort, rolling your eyes. "gosh, rintarou. you're so immature."

your phone rings and you reach to pick it up, raising an eyebrow when you see atsumu's calling. you flip the phone so that suna sees it.

"speak of the devil," he jokes.

"what the fuck am i supposed to say?" you hiss, glaring at your boyfriend, who has a shit-eating grin on his face. "this is your fau—" suna suddenly taps on the green answer button. "—hey atsumu! good morning!"

"don't 'hey atsumu' me. did you tell him?"

"tell... who what?"

you hear him slap his forehead through the phone. "i can't believe you told him. i told you not to tell him!"

snickering, you make crackling noises with your mouth. "uh, i think you're breaking up—"

"—don't you dare—"

"—can't hear you, bye!"

you disconnect the call with a laugh and put your phone on do not disturb as suna wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer.

"you're a menace, you know that?"

"mhm," he hums.

"they should kick you off of twitter like they did to trump."

"okay."

"you're a stain on the fabric of society."