#sub hq

That bastard has been the main problem that has suddenly made your job unenjoyable. He's been pulling all sorts of shit like making you repeat things at least 5 times each class, whispering crude remarks about you to his friend—even though he sits in the front of the room and you can hear each one—, and throwing paper balls and airplanes around randomly just to annoy you. Overall, he's a real nuisance during class.

And you know damn well that he doesn't even need or care for the repeating from the way he smirks at you when you're done and from now he has failed most of the quizzes and tests that you've given to the class yet doesn't go to you for any help.

No matter how annoying he is in your class, you can't be bothered to report him to the head of the school, afraid it would tarnish your new reputation as a teacher. After all, you heard rumors about how he's gotten teachers fired, and knowing his parents are somewhat influential, you'd rather not find out firsthand if they're true or not. All you can do is complain about him to your friends as you wait for the school year to end. At least his class is always the last one of the day, right? Yeah right.

Now back to the present.

As you finish repeating most of the things you already went over, you ignore the gaze burning into your head and quickly post the classwork on your laptop. However, right as you open your mouth to continue teaching, the bell rings and you can't help but let your shoulders slump as you look up to the students with a forced smile.

"I just posted the homework for this lesson that's due next class so don't forget to complete it! The semester is coming to an end so final grades will be put in soon."

As they pack up and begin chatting, a few give you sympathetic smiles as they exit, knowing what you have to go through during this class.

You don't bother to pay attention to the last person in the room as they walk up to your desk, stopping right in front of you.

"Professor? I think I need more help understanding."

You pause your typing on your laptop and focus on sorting the papers on your desk instead, trying to look busy but you're just trying not to look Oikawa in the eyes.

"Yes, Oikawa? What exactly do you need help understanding? If it's something that will take a while to chat with me about then I'm afraid that it'll have to wait until tomorrow because I have a lot of work to grade."

You quickly glance up at him and see the grin on his face. It's one that you've gotten accustomed to as it usually means he has something up his sleeve.

"Well mainly about today's lesson. I don't quite get it. Perhaps I even need a private lesson, don't you think?"

Right, you forgot to mention the rather obvious flirting he does towards you. It's almost as if your first year teaching went too well that your second just had to be the exact opposite.

You hold yourself back from rolling your eyes as you answer back calmly without looking at him.

"If what I notice during class is right, you haven't been paying attention much. But I'm sure if you start doing so, you'll begin understanding the lessons better."

You hear him let out a huff at your lack of attention towards him before seeing two hands being placed on either side of your laptop. You frown as your eyes immediately look up at him.

He's closer now, leaning over your desk and the grin wider now.

"Oh come on professor, a private lesson can't hurt. You'll be able to teach me so much." Teach him how to behave perhaps. "And you can do it however you want, I'm not picky." The way he looks at you as he says the last part has you questioning if he meant it in another way. Knowing him, he most likely did.

You sigh before gathering your papers and you see Oikawa's grin falter slightly.

"Oikawa, I don't think a private lesson is necessary. Nor do I think it would benefit you in any way." You're so focused on the papers that you don't hear him walk around the desk to your side until he's right beside your chair.

"Please, professor?" You jump slightly in surprise before turning your chair to face him and you remember just how tall he is. He's right in front of you now and the way he said the word "please" has you tensing. He knows what he's doing and he knows that you know.

You suddenly realize the tension in the room and clear your throat. "This is inappropriate, Oikawa. I'm your professor."

He raises an eyebrow before stepping closer and smirking.

"Inappropriate? Just what are you assuming? I'm not doing anything inappropriate." He leans down slightly and you frown. Damn him and his good looks. No wonder you see him surrounded by girls on the daily.

You narrow your eyes at him. "You know what you're doing," you say sternly and his smirk widens. Oh, you want to slap that smirk off his face so badly.

You can't help but glance back at your laptop for a second before suddenly feeling a hot breath in your ear and a presence beside you.

"Please, professor?" A shiver runs down your spine. Before you can reply, you notice his tie dangling in front of you—one that's always untucked despite the uniform policy—and you can't help but grab it and pull it down sharply. He gasps at the sudden action as he stumbles and falls to his knees in front of you. His eyes immediately widen and a faint blush appears on his face.

You can't help but be in shock as well. If someone were to walk in at this moment, they would see the infamous Oikawa Toru on his knees, a blush on his face that's growing redder by the second, in front of one of the school's most popular teachers.

Oh, the rumors.

Even on his knees, he's still tall but you swear he looks smaller from the way he looks up at you in surprise.

You're still holding onto his tie and you realize, the way you're staring down at him, tie in hand while he's on his knees staring at you with widened—awaiting?— eyes; Oikawa kinda reminds you of… a dog?

Get your mind out of the gutter, [Name], you tell yourself, yet your grip on his tie only tightens and you notice him swallow hard.

You look at his neck and realize you must've accidentally tightened the tie somehow as well, pressing it right up against his Adam's apple.

"M-Miss?" You snap out of your thoughts, both the title and the stutter catching you by surprise. Looking at Oikawa, you see he's blushing harder, fists clenched on his thighs as he continues to look up at you with that look. Shit.

Then you realize he's not moving, not getting up, not pushing you away, or yelling at you. He's not protesting it. Rather, he's deciding to stay kneeling in front of you.

Does he want this?

You swallow hard as your eyes rake over Oikawa's body and you swear you see his body shiver slightly. You were always a sucker for pretty men anyways.

However, when your eyes finally reach his lower half, you realize why he's blushing so much, or why he's avoiding your gaze suddenly. He's hard, so obviously hard.

Oikawa looks so different from his normal persona that you almost want to laugh. The cocky, annoying senior that has always pestered you in class reduced to a blushing, speechless mess in front of you with a raging boner.

"I bet this is what you wanted, right? During a private lesson?" You see him tense up before lowering his head in front of you, muttering something quietly.

"Use your words properly." You notice him staying silent and wonder if you've misread him before he suddenly speaks- no, suddenly moves.

He slowly leans forward to lay his cheek on your thigh and your breath hitches at the sight.

"I'm sorry, miss." Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Despite how one side of your mind so desperately wants to put him in his place after everything he's done, the more rational part of your mind quickly reminds you that you're his professor and he's your student. Although you're only a few years older than him, this could get you fired or worse.

He must sense your hesitation because he then gently grasps your ankle and presses your shoe against his crotch, letting out a small whimper that makes the heat inside your stomach rise.

You curse under your breath before tugging his tie again and he gasps. Feeling him start to slowly rock against your shoe, you take it back and hear him whine pathetically.

"Was this your plan all along? To rile me up so I would snap and teach you a lesson?" You feel his crotch twitch slightly.

Oikawa swallows hard before lifting his head up and nodding. "Words."

"Yes, miss." You can't help the grin that spreads across your face.

"Well," you start and you see him looking up at you awaitedly. "Perhaps I will teach you a lesson, in my own way of course, since you said you weren't picky." He blushes, remembering his previous words. You have a feeling that although he wanted you to snap, he didn't expect it to go this way.

The pressure against his crotch snaps him out of his thoughts and before his mind can process it, his body already has and you see pre cum seeping through the material of his pants. He lets out a moan at the feeling of your shoe again.

"How about, I'll ask you questions about the class material" —you see his Adam's apple bobbing— "and depending on whether you answer correctly or not, I'll either pull back my shoe or help you cum."

His breath hitches at the idea and almost immediately nods. With his brain already foggy along with the realization that you may pleasure him, he fails to remember that he hasn't been paying the best attention in your class or learned the material well.

You already feel him slightly grinding on your shoe again but you keep it there, wanting to keep on looking down at his flushed face panting near your thighs.

"What is a similarity between transcription and DNA replication?"

His eyes immediately widen in surprise and you know you've stumped him already. Although you know the rest of your classes would be able to answer it easily, his mind is already too clouded with pleasure, it's almost funny.

He stutters out some sort of half-ass response that you know is definitely wrong before you feign a disappointed sigh and pull away your shoe. Immediately he whines out in protest but a stern look from you shuts him right up.

So now he follows your orders.

"What does the shape of a protein determine?" Groaning, he lays his head back on your thigh. His grip on your ankle tightens slightly as he pouts up at you, trying to convince you to do something else. With his hair right in front of you, you suddenly grab it before yanking his head back, emitting a rather loud cry of pain from him.

"Come on, Oikawa"—he lets out a whine at the way you say his name so sternly—"I thought you wanted this? So be a good boy and answer the question. Or perhaps I should just leave you here?"

He widens his eyes before shaking his head hesitantly. "N-No, miss." Oh, the thought of you just leaving him here has his cock throbbing. He's so hard, it hurts.

You stay silent and he realizes you're still awaiting an answer from him. You swear you see the cogwheels turning in his brain, the need to cum fueling it.

"The… function?"

It comes out as more of a question than an answer but you take it anyways. The second you grind your shoe back against his already stained crotch, he humps it like a dog in heat, his groans and whimpers filling the classroom.

You ask him another question and of course, he gets it wrong, mumbling some response that had nothing to do with what you asked. However, taking pity on him, you don't pull away your shoe and he takes it as a sign to speed up. Maybe he thought he actually got it right or maybe he realized that you felt bad for him.

Your hand grips his tie again, tugging it as he lets out a small groan, his eyes rolling back in his head slightly at the pressure against his throat. So he likes getting choked?

"You know, when you're making all sorts of loud noises like that, I wouldn't be surprised if someone were to come check up on his room."

You expected him to slow down, maybe even stop at the realization. But rather he speeds up.

"Maybe you would even like that, getting caught." His cock inside his pants twitches a lot, answering your suspicions so you continue. "Imagine what they would think, seeing a big bad senior like you on his knees for a teacher, rutting against their shoe like a fucking bitch in heat."

Your language catches him off guard, the total opposite of how you act when you teach. He can't help the blush that travels down his neck or the shock of pleasure that runs through his spine or the way his dick leaks more pre-cum, trickling through his pants and onto your shoe because holy shit was that hot.

But the whole situation wouldn't happen anyway. You know for a fact that this part of the college was practically empty, even more so after the last class. But Oikawa doesn't know that and the thought of getting caught turns him on more than he would like to admit.

"M-Miss, I'm close," he murmurs into your thigh, taking no action to slow down. You raise an eyebrow. Assuming that he hooks up with girls weekly, you thought it would take him longer to cum, or perhaps this whole situation is too much for him to process clearly that he just couldn't hold it in. It's cute.

Oikawa is quick to babble out pleas to cum, his voice rising in pitch as his absolutely sinful noises become louder. Some drool escapes from the corner of his mouth and his body feels hot, tears prickling the corners of his eyes from the intensity.

His eyes roll back again and you swear his brain short circuits when you press down on his crotch, his grip on your ankle tightening even more to keep you there. Oikawa can’t even think properly anymore, he just wants to cum. "Pleasepleaseplease-"

"Go on Oikawa, since you've been such a good boy during this lesson." The praise is what gets him. He throws his head back, revealing his neck that you want to grab so badly, and lets out a cry of pleasure. Immediately you feel the wetness on your shoe and you look down to see the wet stain on his pants growing even more.

Oikawa slumps back forward onto your thighs as his humping slows down before coming to a stop. Looking up at you, his eyes are glassy and glazed over and the sight makes your heart race.

He sighs before laying his cheek on your thigh and closing his eyes, murmuring something that you almost fail to hear.

"Thank you for the private lesson, miss."

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

Shoyo has been tossing and turning in bed for what feels like all night to no avail. He needs to FaceTime Y/n, now. He picks up his phone off of the nightstand and temporarily turns on a light so FaceID would work. Pretty much milliseconds after he presses the camera button, Y/n picks up.

“What’s wrong babe?” Y/n asks with concern in his voice, “You don’t usually call at this time of night.”

Shoyo’s face flushes a little. “I couldn’t fall asleep Y/n. Because of you, I need you. Bad,” He admits as his blush grows brighter, “Could you please talk to me while I jack off? I just know that I’d be off my game tomorrow if you don’t.”

“I can definitely do that for you Shoyo,” he says in a low tone, “I have been missing you too, so I might join you in jacking off.”

Shoyo’s face turns into a small grin. “Thank you, babe. Shall I get us started?” He flips the camera around to show Y/n his hardening bulge before pulling off his boxers agonizingly slowly. “Show me what you’re wearing babe, that’ll definitely help things get raring to go.” Y/n sets his phone down real quick to turn on a couple of lights so Shoyo can see everything better. He then yanks off his underwear, lays back down and holds his phone up to show himself off to his boyfriend.

“Like what you see?” Y/n asks teasingly, “I want to see you start to stroke yourself, slowly, like I’m there teasing you to rile you up.” He then also flips his camera around to show Shoyo that he’s enjoying the show already. Stroking his dick at a leisurely pace, slipping his thumb up to his slit to collect precum to use as lube. Letting out small moans and groans of pleasure that he knows will turn Shoyo on even more.

“I have been stroking myself just as you told me, sir. But please sir, please I need more! I can’t cum like this!” Shoyo begs, letting out whines just so he might get his way.

“That’s the point, slut. You aren’t supposed to cum yet. I will only let you cum if you will be a good boy and follow my explicit instructions. Turn up the audio on your phone so you can still hear me, set it down on the pillow next to your head, suck on your fingers for a minute and start fingering yourself. And don’t muffle your moans. You’ll be in a world of punishment when you get home if you do.” Shoyo follows those instructions exactly as Y/n is saying them, now thrusting into himself, desperately trying to reach his prostate. He whines as he slightly brushes against it, struggling to hit it again and again like Y/n can. “Oh yeah, and no touching your dick from this point on. I want to cum from just to sound of my voice and you fingering yourself,” Y/n commands as he strokes his dick, enjoying Shoyo’s desperate whines and moans, “I can tell that you just can’t quite reach the spots that I can in you. But that’s too bad. You just have to keep trying, my little slut.”

Shoyo’s fingertips just barely brush against his prostate yet again which causes him to let out a high-pitched moan. “You’re getting pretty close, aren’t you? But that’s not enough, is it my desperate slut?” Y/n degrades, letting out some more groans as he nears his orgasm. His degradation is what helps Shoyo tip over the edge cumming all over his toned abs, pecs, bedsheets and even on his face a little. His moan is what gets Y/n to finally cum too.

After a few minutes of just their breathing slowing down, Y/n ends the FaceTime. A second later he gets sent a picture from Shoyo showing how messy and fucked out Y/n made him. He texts back milliseconds later, ‘You know that this’ll be my lockscreen for a while, right?’

"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."

"are you done?"

"...yeah."

"okay," he whispers. "let's go back to bed then."

“okay."

"love you."

you smile. "love you too, rintarou."

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