#ldymint

[SUMMARY] - Moving in is the easy part. Adjusting to life under the same roof is another story entirely. As you and Choso slowly grow comfortable around each other, one careless mistake threatens to shatter that newfound comfort. Nothing will ever feel quite the same afterward.

[TAGS] - MDNI 18+ ONLY. nudity. dom! reader. Enemies to Lovers. Forced proximity. roommates to lovers. Toxicity. mean reader. loser choso. bullying. tags will be updated as the story progresses. (wc 4.1k)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

♡ House Rules ♡

You had made a mistake.

A huge one.

A life-altering, potentially catastrophic mistake.

At least, that was what your brain had decided sometime around two in the morning, after hours of tossing and turning beneath your blankets while the glow of your phone illuminated the dark bedroom.

Choso was moving in tomorrow.

No.

Not tomorrow.

You glanced at the time displayed at the top of your screen.

2:17 a.m.

Today.

Choso was moving in today.

Your stomach twisted strangely at the thought, a messy combination of nerves, excitement, curiosity, and something else you refused to identify.

This was ridiculous.

He was just a roommate.

A very attractive roommate, yes, but still just a roommate.

You had lived with Cami for years without spiraling into an emotional crisis the night before she moved in. Granted, Cami had been your best friend since childhood and didn’t have broad shoulders, tired eyes, or a face that looked like it had been painted by Picasso himself.

That was beside the point.

You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling. The apartment was completely silent.

Without Cami’s music playing from the other room or the sound of her laughing loudly on FaceTime at inappropriate hours, every tiny noise seemed amplified. The low hum of the air conditioner. The occasional car passing outside. The soft ticking of the decorative clock hanging above your dresser.

By this time tomorrow, the apartment wouldn’t be silent anymore.

Choso would be here.

His shoes would be by the door. His belongings would be inside the spare bedroom. His food would be in your refrigerator.

His body would be—

You immediately slapped both hands over your face.

“Get a grip.”

Your voice sounded embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

You weren’t excited because Choso was attractive. You were excited because you would no longer have to pay the full rent alone. That was it.

Financial stability.

That was what had your heart beating faster.

Definitely.

You rolled onto your side again and reached for your phone, opening your messages.

Your conversation with Choso was still sitting near the top.

Choso: I should be there around eleven.

You: k

You stared at your response. Maybe it looked rude. You had only sent one letter. He might think you were annoyed.

Why did you care if he thought you were annoyed?

You hovered over the keyboard.

You groaned and locked the phone, tossing it onto the pillow beside you.

This was stupid.

You were acting stupid.

You never acted like this over men. Men acted like this over you.

You were supposed to be the one keeping other people awake at night. Not lying in bed, rereading messages from some socially awkward guy you bullied into doing your schoolwork.

A socially awkward guy who just happened to be unfairly attractive underneath that hoodie and mask.

You sat up quickly, blankets falling into your lap.

“No.”

Absolutely not. You weren’t doing this.

You grabbed your phone again and opened Tiffany’s contact.

It rang twice before she answered. The screen filled with darkness. Then movement.

Then Tiffany’s irritated face appeared, partially hidden beneath a satin bonnet.

“Somebody better be dead.”

“I think I made a mistake.”

Her eyes immediately widened.

She pushed herself upright.

“You slept with him?”

“What? No!”

“Oh.”

She visibly relaxed, dropping back against her pillows.

“Then why are you calling me at two in the morning?”

“Choso is moving in today.”

“And?”

Her voice was flat.

“I think this might be a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because what?”

You opened your mouth.

Nothing came out. Tiffany waited.

You glanced away.

“Because he’s a guy.”

“Congratulations. You have eyes.”

“Tiff.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, actually. I don’t.”

She adjusted her phone, propping it against something so she could lie back down.

“You need a roommate. He needs somewhere to live. He pays rent. He’s quiet. He does your homework. This sounds like the greatest thing that has ever happened to you.”

“He doesn’t do all my homework.”

Tiffany stared.

“Most of it.”

She continued staring.

You sighed.

“Fine. A lot of it.”

“Exactly.”

“That isn’t the issue.”

“Then what is?”

You picked at a loose thread on your blanket.

Your hesitation lasted long enough for Tiffany’s expression to shift. Then her eyes slowly widened.

A grin began spreading across her face.

“You’re nervous.”

“I am not.”

“You called me at two in the morning to discuss a man moving into your apartment.”

“A roommate.”

“A fine roommate.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Please.”

“Girl, I saw those pictures.”

Tiffany sat up again, suddenly far more awake than she had been moments earlier.

“You are about to wake up every morning with that man walking around your apartment.”

“He’ll probably stay in his room.”

“Men don’t stay in their rooms.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means eventually he’s going to walk into the kitchen with no shirt on.”

Your mind betrayed you immediately. A brief image flashed through your head.

Choso’s hair messy from sleep. Gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips. Bare chest. Tired eyes.

You quickly pushed the thought away.

“You watch too many movies.”

“And you don’t watch enough.”

“He’s shy.”

“That makes it better.”

You stared at her.

“How?”

“I don’t know. It just does.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You sank back into your pillows, holding the phone above your face.

“What if it’s awkward?”

“It will be awkward.”

Your smile dropped.

“Tiffany.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“That’s not helping.”

“You bullied him for two years, and now he’s moving into your apartment. Of course it’s going to be awkward.”

“I did not bully him.”

“You made him write your paper.”

“He agreed.”

“Because you threatened him.”

“I did not threaten him.”

She burst into laughter.

“You are so lucky he’s nice.”

“I’m nice.”

You settled deeper beneath the blankets.

The nervous energy had not disappeared, but talking to Tiffany made it feel slightly less overwhelming.

Slightly.

“I just don’t know how this is supposed to work.”

“It’s simple.”

She began counting on her fingers.

“He moves in. You flirt with him. He falls hopelessly in love with you. You get married. I give a speech at the wedding.”

You stared at her.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

You laughed so loudly you had to cover your mouth.

“You are disgusting.”

“And you called me.”

“Because I needed emotional support.”

“This is emotional support.”

“No, this is you encouraging terrible decisions.”

“Some terrible decisions are worth making.”

You shook your head, still laughing. Tiffany’s expression softened.

“Okay, seriously.”

You looked at her.

“You’re going to be fine.”

The joking disappeared from her voice.

“He’s quiet, he’s respectful, and he already knows you. You could’ve ended up with some random creep from that website.”

“That’s true.”

“And if it doesn’t work out, you can figure something else out later.”

You nodded slowly.

She smiled.

“But until then, flirt with him.”

“Tiff.”

“Just a little.”

“No.”

“Wear something cute tomorrow.”

“I always wear something cute.”

“Something extra cute.”

You hesitated.

“You already picked an outfit, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“You did!”

“I have not.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wear the little pink set!”

“Goodnight, Tiffany.”

“And bend over while he’s carrying boxes!”

You ended the call before she could say anything worse.

The silence returned immediately. You stared at your reflection in the black screen.

Then, against your better judgment, you looked toward the outfit hanging from your closet door.

A fitted white top.

Pink booty shorts that leave nothing to the imagination.

Nothing too obvious.

You would’ve worn it anyway.

Probably.

You plugged your phone into the charger and slid beneath the blankets once more.

“Just roommates,” you whispered.

This time, the words sounded more like a warning than reassurance.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

Choso had packed the same box three times.

The first time, he had placed his textbooks on the bottom and clothes on top.

Then he decided that was inefficient.

The second time, he arranged everything by size.

Then he worried the books would damage the clothes.

Now, he was standing in the middle of his bedroom at three in the morning, staring at the open cardboard box like it had personally offended him.

“This is stupid.”

He removed the textbooks again.

A quiet knock sounded against his partially open door.

Choso froze.

The door slowly pushed inward.

His younger brother Yuji stood in the doorway, hair sticking up in several directions.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“I know.”

His brother looked at the nearly empty room.

Several taped boxes were lined neatly against the wall. His desk had been cleared. Most of his clothes were already folded inside a suitcase.

“You’ve been packing all day.”

“I know.”

“So why are you still packing?”

Choso looked down at the box.

“I’m reorganizing.”

His brother’s eyes narrowed.

“For the third time?”

Choso said nothing.

That was answer enough.

A grin slowly appeared.

“You’re nervous.”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re moving in with a girl.”

Choso immediately looked toward the hallway.

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone is asleep.”

“They already know.”

Choso’s jaw tightened.

Of course they knew.

He had made the mistake of telling Yuji. Within ten minutes, every person in the house knew he was moving into an apartment with a woman.

Not just any woman.

You.

The one person he had specifically avoided mentioning.

His brother leaned against the doorframe.

“Is she pretty?”

Choso returned his attention to the box.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“That means yes.”

“It means it doesn’t matter.”

“Do you like her?”

“No.”

The response came too quickly.

His brother’s grin widened.

Choso sighed and placed another book into the box.

“She’s my roommate.”

“Does she know you like her?”

“I don’t like her.”

“Does she know you’re nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Then why have you packed the same box three times?”

Choso stopped moving.

His brother laughed.

“Goodnight.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I hope she’s nice.”

The words were delivered innocently, but they landed strangely.

Choso glanced toward the doorway. His brother had already disappeared.

Nice.

You weren’t exactly nice.

Not to him, at least.

You were demanding. Impatient. Dramatic. Careless with deadlines and somehow always shocked when professors expected you to complete your own work.

You interrupted him during class.

You touched him without permission.

You texted him without a greeting and expected an immediate response.

You had once threatened to tell everyone he cried during a documentary because he refused to give you the answers to a quiz.

You were exhausting.

Choso lowered himself onto the edge of his bed.

And now he was moving in with you.

He still didn’t fully understand how that had happened.

When he had responded to the listing, he had thought the apartment belonged to a man.

The account used a man’s name. There were no personal photos. The description was straightforward.

Clean apartment.

Private bedroom.

Shared bathroom.

Close to campus.

It had seemed perfect.

Then you walked into the café.

At first, he thought you had followed him there to bother him about the paper.

Then you sat down.

Then you smiled at him.

Then you revealed that the apartment was yours.

Choso rubbed both hands over his face.

He could still remember the exact expression you made when you recognized him.

Complete disbelief.

Then horror.

Then—

He didn’t know what came after that.

You had stared at him for so long that he had almost considered putting the mask back on.

He had worn it around you for years.

At first, it had nothing to do with you.

He simply preferred covering his face. It made crowded classrooms easier. It discouraged conversation. People tended to leave him alone.

Then you started talking to him.

Constantly.

You teased him about the mask, the hoodie, his hair, his posture, his handwriting, and nearly everything else you could think of.

By that point, taking it off around you had started to feel impossible.

The longer he wore it, the stranger it would be to remove it.

So he never did.

Until the café.

Choso closed his eyes.

He shouldn’t care.

He didn’t care.

At least, he hadn’t until you spent the rest of the meeting staring at his face like you were trying to memorize it.

Choso looked around the bedroom.

Most of his life had already been packed into cardboard boxes.

There was no reason to back out.

The apartment was close to campus. The rent was manageable. The room was larger than his current one. He would finally have somewhere quiet to study.

It was practical.

That was all.

He was not moving because he wanted to be closer to you.

He was not curious about what you were like outside of class.

He was not thinking about the way your expression changed when you realized who he was.

And he definitely had not spent the past several hours wondering what you would be wearing when he arrived.

Choso stood abruptly.

He grabbed the tape dispenser and sealed the box. The ripping sound echoed through the room.

No more reorganizing. No more thinking.

He would move in, stay out of your way, pay his portion of the rent, and focus on school.

Simple.

At least, that was what he told himself.

Because the alternative was admitting that living with you made him more nervous than he had felt in years.

And Choso had no intention of admitting that.

Not even to himself.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

The next morning arrived much faster than either of you would have liked.

You had been awake since eight.

Not because Choso was coming over at eleven.

Definitely not.

You were simply… preparing.

The apartment had never been this clean.

You’d vacuumed the living room twice, wiped down every countertop, rearranged the throw pillows at least six different times, and even lit one of the expensive vanilla candles Cami insisted smelled “rich.”

It smelled nice.

Too nice.

You quickly blew it out.

You didn’t want him thinking you were trying too hard.

Your eyes drifted toward the clock.

10:42 am.

Eighteen minutes.

Not that you were counting.

A knock echoed through the apartment.

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.

“Relax,” you muttered to yourself.

You smoothed your shirt, checked your reflection in the hallway mirror, fixed a strand of hair that wasn’t even out of place, and finally opened the door.

Choso stood there with two cardboard boxes stacked in his arms and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

Behind him sat an older pickup truck with the bed filled with more boxes.

His brothers stood beside it.

They were both pretty tall, taller than Choso.

“…Hi,” you said.

“Hi.”

Silence.

One of the brothers leaned toward another.

“So that’s her.”

Another elbowed him.

“Dude.”

You pretended not to hear them.

Choso looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“I’m… um…”

He adjusted the boxes.

“I brought my things.”

You couldn’t help smiling.

“I was hoping so.”

His ears immediately turned pink.

One brother snorted.

Another covered his mouth to hide a laugh.

You stepped aside.

“Come in.”

“Thank you.”

He carefully walked inside, setting the boxes just beyond the doorway.

The apartment suddenly felt much smaller.

Not because of the boxes.

Because there was another person in it.

Another brother appeared in the doorway carrying a lamp.

He held his hand out to you.

“I’m Eso, it's nice to meet you”.

You grab his hand firmly and introduce yourself.

The other one approaches you.

“Kechizu”.

Curt, you thought, grabbing his hand.

“So where does Romeo want this?”

Choso nearly dropped the box he was holding; his eyes practically popped out of his face.

Eso grinned.

“I’m just messing with you.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

This was… unexpected.

Apparently Choso’s brothers enjoyed embarrassing him just as much as you did.

Over the next twenty minutes, boxes slowly filled the spare bedroom.

Books, clothes, a desk chair, several storage bins, a small bookshelf, and a ridiculous number of notebooks.

“You own this many textbooks?” you asked.

Choso glanced toward the stack.

“…Most of them were used.”

“Still.”

He shrugged.

“I like reading.”

You blinked.

“Voluntarily?”

A tiny smile appeared.

“…Sometimes.”

Cute.

You reached toward the last remaining box.

“I’ll grab this one.”

Immediately—

“No.”

You paused.

“…No?”

“I’ve got it.”

“It doesn’t look that heavy.”

“It is.”

“I can carry a box.”

“I know.”

His voice remained gentle.

“I just don’t want you to.”

You stared at him.

For the first time since meeting him, there wasn’t even the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice.

He simply bent down, lifted the box with both hands, and carried it inside like it weighed almost nothing.

Your eyes followed him.

Maybe it wasn’t that heavy.

Then you looked at the label.

BOOKS.

Every single one.

“…Okay.”

Maybe it was heavy. Very heavy.

He returned a moment later.

“You didn’t have to do all of them yourself.”

“I know.”

“So why did you?”

He looked genuinely confused.

“…Because they’re my boxes.”

You weren’t used to people refusing your help.

Most people either accepted immediately or insisted for a few seconds before giving in.

Choso simply… handled it.

Without making a big deal out of it.

One by one, his brothers carried in the last few belongings. After about another half hour, the truck was empty. One brother clapped Choso on the shoulder.

“Call us if you need anything.”

Kechizu looked toward you.

“Take care of him.”

Before you could answer, Eso laughed.

“Actually, he probably needs to survive her.”

“Hey!”

You crossed your arms dramatically.

“I’m standing right here.”

“We know.”

They laughed.

Even Choso smiled.

It wasn’t a big smile. Barely there, really. But it softened his entire face.

And somehow…

You found yourself smiling too.

Once the truck disappeared down the street, the apartment became quiet again.

Just…

A different kind of quiet.

You looked toward him. He looked toward you. Neither of you spoke.

“So…”

“So.”

“This is weird.”

“…Yeah.”

You laughed.

“I’m glad you agree.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

You clapped your hands together.

“Okay.”

He looked up.

“First roommate rule.”

“… There are rules?”

“Of course.”

His expression became strangely serious.

“I’m listening.”

“No stealing food.”

"No pets."

"No entering eachother's room without permission."

He nodded.

“Okay.”

“And if you're gonna let a girl spend the night, give me the courtesy of a warning text.”

He nearly choked.

“That won't be happening…”

He looked at his feet.

“Yeah, I thought as much.”

You laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear.

He looked away in embarrassment.

You grinned.

“You can unpack.”

“I will.”

“I’ll… stay out of your way.”

“…Thank you.”

He disappeared into his room, quietly closing the door behind him.

You stood in the hallway for another five seconds.

Then immediately texted Tiffany.

You: he's here

The response came almost instantly.

Tiff: AND???

You: alive

Tiff: IS HE HOT TODAY TOO

You glanced toward his closed bedroom door.

You: unfortunately

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

Nearly two hours later, Choso emerged from his room.

You looked up from the couch.

“Done already?”

“…Mostly.”

“Can I see?”

He hesitated.

“…Sure.”

You followed him inside.

Immediately, your jaw dropped.

The room looked…

Finished.

His bed had already been made. Books lined the shelves in alphabetical order. His desk was perfectly organized. Even the charging cable on the nightstand had been neatly wrapped.

You slowly turned toward him.

“…You’re insane.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“What?”

“You’ve been here for two hours.”

“…Yeah.”

“My room still has boxes from when I moved in.”

He blinked.

“…Really?”

You laugh.

"You might have more complaints with me as a roommate than I will have with you."

He gives you a sideways glance.

"Anyways, roomie, I'm gonna go to bed, night!"

...

"Goodnight"

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

It had been a week since Choso moved in, and so far everything had been smooth sailing. Your cohabitation with your human dictionary had been dandy so far.

He was a diligent and proactive roommate, no problems yet…

By early evening, neither of you felt like cooking.

You leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I’m starving.”

“…Me too.”

“Ramen?”

He looked up.

“…Ramen sounds good.”

“Perfect.”

You grabbed your phone.

“My treat.”

Immediately—

“No.”

You looked at him.

“What?”

“I’ll pay for mine.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Choso.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t want you paying for me.”

“…Why?”

“Because it’s my food.”

You sighed dramatically.

“You are unbelievably stubborn, but fine.”

He relaxed slightly.

You smiled.

He sent you his share for his food, and you quickly purchased the ramen with a ten-dollar tip so they would feel motivated to get here faster.

Dinner turned out to be surprisingly easy.

You sat across from each other at the small kitchen table with steaming bowls of noodles between you.

The conversation drifted from classes…

To professors…

To him finishing your assignment...

To favorite movies…

To how Choso somehow survived living with all his brothers.

“They’re loud.”

“I noticed.”

“They mean well.”

“They definitely embarrassed you.”

“…Yeah.”

“You embarrass easily.”

“…Yeah.”

You watched him for a second.

He was different outside the classroom. Still quiet. Still awkward.

But…

Comfortable. Less tense.

Like he wasn’t constantly waiting for someone to bother him.

For the first time in two years…

You wondered if maybe you had never actually known Choso Kamo at all.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

The first two weeks had passed faster than either of you expected.

Living together slowly became…

Normal.

Or at least your version of normal.

You left mugs in the sink.

Choso quietly washed them.

You forgot cabinet doors.

He closed them.

You kicked your shoes off wherever you happened to stop walking.

He lined them neatly beside the front door.

You stole one of his granola bars.

The next day you bought him an entire new box.

He simply blinked at it.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

You smiled.

“But I did.”

Every morning, you greeted him with—

“Morning, roomie.”

Every morning, without fail, he’d pause for half a second before replying—

“…Morning.”

Sometimes he’d already be studying before sunrise. Sometimes you’d catch him asleep over a textbook.

Once, you draped a blanket over his shoulders before going to bed.

Neither of you mentioned it again.

Little by little…

The apartment stopped feeling like yours. And started feeling like both of yours.

Sometimes you would forget you had a roommate, though, and would still act as if you lived alone.

Sprawling on the couch for an ungodly amount of time, leaving your creams and hair products open on the bathroom sink.

Leaving hair in the shower, accidentally leaving your laundry in the dryer.

But Choso never complained; he just picked up after you.

It was like an angel sent from heaven, your own personal man-servant that worked without pay.

But, little did you know your forgetfulness would be the end of you.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

“I need to shower so bad, wash the day.”

Tiff nodded in approval as you walked to the school parking lot.

“Same, this hot weather is brutal.”

“I feel musty all the time.”

You burst out laughing.

It was spring, but it felt like you had been living in the Sahara.

Global warming...

“I’ll call you when I get home.”

You give her air kisses as you climb into the driver's seat of your car.

The first thing you did was crank the AC to full blast.

Driving home was almost automatic, like you hadn't even realized you drove back as you approached the front door.

Choso’s car wasn't here, probably studying.

You unlocked the front door and tossed your shoes to the side.

You tossed your bag on the kitchen counter.

You went into your room, grabbed your robe, and went straight to the bathroom.

You needed this.

You hung it on the door, then turned the shower on full heat.

Shower heat is different from outside heat. One is enjoyable and soothing, while the other makes you want to peel your skin off.

You sighed as the water hit your face.

Relief washed over you as you scrubbed the day away. You always took long showers; you didn't care, though.

But the water bill did.

You shut the water off, grabbing a towel and some clean panties from the cabinet where you store all your feminine hygiene products.

You hear the front door open; Choso probably just got back.

You lather eos lotion all over your body, making sure not to miss any crevices.

You slip some panties on when suddenly you hear footsteps.

You think nothing of it as you spray on vanilla body spray.

That is, until you hear the door click; then you panic.

You forgot to lock the damn door, and you are stark naked with only panties on.

You turn and rush to try and lock the door, but it's too late; Choso is standing in the doorway, mouth on the ground.

Because your breasts are on full display as well as everything else.

But at least you have panties on… right?

You move to speak, but you are at a loss for words.

What the fuck do you say?

Do you scream, Curse him out?

Well, he beats you to it.

He slams the door in your face.

“Sorry! I'm so sorry.” 

His voice is practically a squeak.

‘Fuck’ 

What are you supposed to do now?

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[A/N] guys don't shoot me😞 i'm sorry it took so long to update but work has been taking up all my time and motivation, and i start school in august so forgive me if updates are slow. But anways hope y'all enjoy😋

also comment if you wanted to be tagged in chp 3 that is coming soon😏

[SUMMARY] - Blackmailing Naoya Zenin was supposed to be a game, until the teasing starts feeling a little too real, and suddenly, being his “master” becomes way more dangerous than expected.

[TAGS] - MDNI 18+ ONLY. Profanity. Blackmail. Toxicity. Enemies to Lovers. Forced proximity. Slightly mean reader. oral fem! receiving. degradation. masturbation. slut shaming. cunnilingus. submissive. (wc 8.9k)

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°❀.ೃ࿔* Walk Em' Like Dog

The sun this morning somehow felt warmer, the sheets tangled around your legs somehow softer, your bed impossibly cozier. The entire world felt dipped in gold, humming with this dizzy little kind of perfection. Maybe it was because you had practically hit the fucking lottery.

Not the actual lottery, of course.

But discovering blackmail on Naoya Zenin, felt pretty damn close.

The image replayed in your head every few minutes like a movie scene you couldn’t stop rewinding. Him hunched over Professor Sloane’s desk, broad shoulders tense, fingers gripping the wood while filthy moans spilled from his mouth like he couldn’t hold them back. Completely wrecked. Completely pathetic.

Over the years you’d heard every rumor imaginable about Naoya Zenin. That he had aids. That he got girls pregnant and disappeared before they could tell him. That he refused to eat pussy because it was “dirty.” Campus practically breathed his scandals.

But never—not once in your life—would you have guessed he had a thing for your professor.

And the worst part? The way he said her name, it sounded almost romantic. Soft. Sweet. Like devotion.

It was ironic considering he barely spared a second glance toward the countless girls constantly throwing themselves at him. Beautiful girls too. Cheerleaders, sorority girls, girls who spent hours perfecting their makeup just for a chance at catching his attention.

So what exactly was it about Mrs. Sloane that had him jerking himself off in her office like some lovesick pervert?

I mean, not to be mistaken, she was pretty. Elegant in that older woman kind of way. But still… old. Mid-forties at least. Two kids, from what you’d heard. Probably married too.

Seriously?

Jacking off to a married woman. How much lower could he possibly go?

Still, you honestly didn’t care why he was doing it as long as it meant he’d do whatever you wanted now.

You rolled across your bed with a smug grin, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. Face ID unlocked instantly, your messages opening before your eyes were even fully adjusted to the brightness.

You: I have class in an hour, and I really want to try the pastries from downtown. You: Bring a latte too!

The response came barely two minutes later.

MY bitch: Your seriously having me be your errand boy?

You snorted, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

You: for now :) You: you better not be late and they better be warm

Read.

“Tsk. Who does he think he is?” you muttered to yourself, tossing the blankets off your body before climbing out of bed.

Your apartment still carried the sleepy warmth of early morning sunlight, pale golden beams slipping through the blinds and stretching lazily across the hardwood floor. You padded toward your closet, already planning the outfit in your head.

Denim shorts. A babydoll top. Ballet flats to pull everything together. Cute enough to turn heads without looking like you tried too hard.

You spent the next hour perched at your vanity filming videos for the week, the ring light casting a soft glow across your room while lip gloss tubes, makeup brushes, and half-open palettes cluttered the desk like organized chaos. Music played faintly from your speaker while you posed for the camera, switching angles with practiced ease.

By the time you finished, the smell of buttery toast and eggs drifted from the kitchen.

You wandered into the living room to find Vicki standing over the stove in oversized pajama shorts, humming softly while she cooked.

“Ooo, is that avocado toast?” you asked immediately, already snatching a piece before she could answer.

The bread crackled between your teeth, warm and perfectly crisp.

You turned toward the front door, keys already in hand, but Vicki’s voice stopped you cold.

“Not so fast.” She pointed the spatula at you accusingly. “You cannot text me saying you’re blackmailing Naoya Zenin and then refuse to elaborate.”

You laughed nervously. “As much as I would love to spill my guts right now, I seriously have to run to class. But when I get home, I’ll tell you everything. Swear.”

“You better,” she warned, narrowing her eyes dramatically. “You know how much I hate cliffhangers.”

The drive to campus felt almost cinematic.

Spring had finally started settling in after months of bitter cold, and sunlight poured across the city in glowing waves. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, fresh green leaves flickering under the sky while music hummed low through your speakers.

For once, life felt easy.

You managed to snag a parking spot near campus the second someone pulled out, luck apparently still heavily on your side. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you stepped out into the warm morning air.

Ding.

MY bitch: Where are you, I have it in the front quad?

You: omw

A grin stretched across your face before you could stop it.

Your entire body felt lighter somehow, like you were floating instead of walking. Every step carried this stupid little bounce of excitement.

And then you saw him.

Naoya stood near the fountain with his back facing you, one hand planted on his hip while the other held a paper bag and drink carrier. Even from behind he looked expensive—perfectly styled blond hair catching the sunlight, black hoodie hanging off his broad frame effortlessly.

Like a Pinterest boyfriend against his own will.

Naoya turned the second your fingers tapped his shoulder, irritation already carved permanently across his face.

“What took you so long?” he snapped immediately. “I have places to be, you know.”

Up close he looked even prettier. Sharp eyes. Sharp jaw. The kind of face people would probably sell organs for. Too bad he was such a bitch.

“Oops,” you shrugged dramatically, snatching the pastry bag straight from his hands. “Don’t care.”

Warmth seeped through the paper instantly. The smell of butter and sugar practically wrapped around you like a blanket while you pulled out the scone, taking a huge bite without shame.

Naoya watched you with visible annoyance.

“You think you’re something, huh?” His eyes dragged slowly up and down your body, expression twisting like he found your existence personally offensive.

You swallowed slowly before smiling sweetly. “Yes. A very hot, very smart, very sexy someone.” He rolled his eyes so hard it almost looked painful.

“Whatever. I’m outta here.”

He started turning away, already looking ready to escape, but your voice stopped him instantly.

“At six,” you said casually between bites, “I need you at my apartment.”

He paused mid-step.

Slowly, he turned back toward you.

“And why,” he asked flatly, “would I do that?”

You took another exaggerated bite of the scone, moaning dramatically at the taste while powdered sugar dusted across your lips.

“Because,” you hummed, “I need help shopping. Well—not shopping exactly. More like… carrying my bags.”

His expression deadpanned instantly.

“Like hell I am.”

You tilted your head innocently. “So should I send the video anonymously to Mrs. Sloane,” you tilted your head innocently, “or say it’s from Naoya Zenin right before I send it to the entire student body?”

The muscles in his jaw flexed sharply.

“Fuck this,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. “Fine. Just text me your address.”

Your grin widened instantly.

“Perfect. You’re so helpful to your master.”

You winked.

“Stop that. Seriously.” He physically recoiled. “I’m gonna throw up.”

You burst into laughter while he stormed off across the quad, shoulders tense with irritation.

Honestly? Watching Naoya Zenin suffer might’ve been your new favorite hobby. You actually felt motivated in class for once.

Instead of zoning out halfway through the lecture like usual, you found yourself genuinely listening, pen gliding quickly across your notebook while the professor talked. Sunlight spilled through the massive classroom windows, warming the rows of desks and making the dust floating through the air shimmer softly.

The caffeine from your latte buzzed pleasantly through your system while your leg bounced beneath the desk.

Maybe blackmail really was good for productivity.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

By the time class ended, pages of neat notes filled your notebook and a strange sense of accomplishment settled in your chest.

You walked out into the hallway satisfied, adjusting your bag higher onto your shoulder while students flooded around you in loud clusters. Conversations echoed off the walls, shoes squeaking against polished tile floors while someone laughed obnoxiously nearby.

You barely made it around the corner before slamming directly into what felt like a brick wall.

Your notebook nearly flew from your hands.

“Sorry about that, doll.”

The voice hit you first. Deep. Smooth. The kind of voice you physically felt in your stomach. Your eyes lifted slowly upward and—

Oh.

Toji.

The breath practically caught in your throat.

He crouched down before you could even react, large hands easily scooping up your fallen notebook from the floor. Even bent over he looked intimidating somehow, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his black shirt while dark hair fell slightly into his face.

“Thanks,” you managed weakly, internally cursing yourself for suddenly forgetting how to function like a normal human being.

Toji glanced down at the notebook before handing it back to you.

“I’ve seen you around before.” He said your name carefully, almost questioningly.

You nodded immediately.

“Knew you looked familiar.” The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “I always remember a pretty face.”

Your heart genuinely flipped in your chest. Like actually flipped. Heat rushed straight into your cheeks while your brain completely short-circuited.

“Uh… thanks,” you mumbled intelligently.

God. Smooth.

“Anytime.”

He gave you one final look before walking past you down the hallway like he hadn’t just permanently altered your brain chemistry.

You stood frozen for a solid five seconds staring after him. That was it? That was ALL? Why didn’t he ask for your number or something?

You frowned slightly while clutching your notebook tighter against your chest.

You weren’t ugly. Right? Unless… Maybe he wanted you to chase him. As if.

You gathered whatever remained of your dignity and headed toward your car, tossing your bag dramatically into the passenger seat once you climbed inside.

The entire drive home your mind swarmed uncontrollably.

He spoke to me. So he’s definitely into me, right? “I always remember a pretty face”? Come on now.

A slow grin stretched across your lips while you drove.

Damnit. Just make a move already.

Still—you weren’t the type to chase after men. You were the prize. And prizes didn’t chase their winners. Guess you’d just have to play the long game instead.

Opening the loft door, you barely had time to step inside before you saw Vicki sitting on the couch waiting for you like an interrogator preparing for questioning.

Legs crossed. Arms folded. Eyes narrowed expectantly.

“Sit,” she demanded immediately.

You blinked once. “Is this the part where you kill me?”

She raised a single eyebrow.

“…Sorry. Sorry.”

You tossed your bag onto the floor and rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly before collapsing beside her on the couch. The cushions dipped underneath your weight while Vicki stared at you with the intensity of someone about to extract classified government information.

To be fair, you had texted her something absolutely insane the night before and then vanished without explanation.

You honestly weren’t afraid to tell Vicki anything. She wasn’t the gossiping type. If anything, she was probably the only person you trusted enough to tell something this catastrophic to.

You just genuinely hadn’t had time earlier. But now? Now you had all the time in the world. So you spilled everything. Every. Single. Detail.

You explained the entire thing from start to finish, practically reenacting certain parts as you talked. Naoya’s expression. The sounds he made. The way he panicked when he realized you saw him.

At one point you even stood up dramatically just to imitate the exact way he had hunched over Professor Sloane’s desk.

Vicki’s jaw slowly dropped lower and lower throughout the story until she looked genuinely horrified.

“…Wow,” she finally breathed once you finished. “Honestly? You scare me.”

You laughed immediately, shoving her shoulder lightly.

“Oh shut up. Don’t act like this isn’t hilarious.”

“I mean yes,” she snorted, “it is hilarious. But it takes a genuinely sick mind to blackmail someone into becoming your personal servant.”

You leaned back against the couch dramatically. “You act like I killed his child or something.”

That made both of you burst into laughter. The apartment filled with the sound of it, loud and warm and uncontrollable.

“But seriously,” you added once the laughter settled slightly, pointing at her sternly. “Take this to the grave. I cannot have somebody ruining this for me.”

Vicki placed a hand dramatically over her chest.

“Your evil little secret is safe with me.”

She hooked her pinky around yours, sealing the promise.

“Perfect.” You jumped up from the couch immediately. “Now I have to go get ready.”

“To go where?” she asked suspiciously.

You poked your head back out from your bedroom doorway, a grin already spreading across your face.

“Shopping with my new attendant.”

Vicki immediately burst into hysterical laughter.

“You might actually be the most evil bitch I’ve ever met.”

Laughing, you pointed toward yourself proudly. “Make sure that goes on my headstone.”

Then you disappeared into your room before she could respond.

Your closet door slid open while you searched through hangers before finally pulling out an oversized off-the-shoulder tee and tiny striped shorts that showed just enough cheek to be dangerous. Comfortable. Cute. Perfect shopping attire.

You shoved your feet into worn-out uggs that honestly needed replacing months ago before grabbing your oversized purse from the vanity.

Ding.

Your phone lit up instantly.

MY bitch: I’m outside, hurry up.

You scoffed softly under your breath while staring at the message. He was seriously such a brat.

You headed downstairs, pushing through the apartment doors only to spot a sleek black Porsche idling near the curb. Even the car looked arrogant. The passenger door opened with a soft click before you slid inside.

“Took you long enough,” Naoya muttered immediately, hands tightening against the steering wheel.

“Whatever. I only made you wait like ten minutes.”

You rolled your eyes while clicking your seatbelt into place.

The engine revved loudly beneath you before the car sped smoothly down the street, city lights and passing storefronts reflecting across the windows in blurred streaks of gold. 

°❀.ೃ࿔*

Retail therapy was exactly what you needed.

School had been kicking your ass lately, assignments piling up faster than you could finish them, and a new pair of heels sounded like the perfect cure for emotional distress.

Naoya, however, looked like he was seconds away from committing a felony.

He trailed behind you through the outdoor shopping center carrying an absurd amount of bags, arms completely overloaded while a permanent scowl sat carved into his forehead.

The sight alone made your day at least ten times better.

“Do I seriously have to carry all this?” he snapped, readjusting one of the heavy bags slipping down his arm. “I’m not your slave.”

“Oh, but you are,” you replied sweetly, sipping your iced matcha through the straw. “And I’m your master.”

The vein near his temple twitched visibly. People passing by kept glancing at the two of you curiously. Probably because Naoya Zenin looked like a miserable rich husband forced into a shopping trip against his will while you walked beside him looking completely unbothered.

Naoya suddenly spotted a nearby bench and stormed toward it dramatically, practically throwing your bags onto the seat.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” he said firmly, shoulders tense with irritation. “I’m leaving.”

You didn’t even look up from your phone.

“Okay,” you said casually. “Do you want me to tag you in the video when I post it? Or maybe I should just hashtag your name instead. Make a whole statement out of it.”

Silence. Then a long, exhausted sigh.

You looked up just in time to catch the exact moment he reconsidered every life choice that led him here.

He stared at you like you were genuinely unwell. You loved it.

Scoffing under his breath, he snatched the bags back up again.

“What a good boy,” you teased.

“Shut up.”

“You know,” you continued thoughtfully while walking again, “none of this would’ve happened if you weren’t such a total perv.”

“Shut. Up.”

You ignored him entirely.

“What I don’t understand is why her?” You glanced sideways at him curiously. “Like don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Sloane’s pretty, but she’s literally got two kids and dresses like she shops exclusively at Kohl’s.”

Naoya’s grip tightened around the shopping bags.

“First of all,” he muttered sharply, “she’s not forty.”

The immediate defense made your eyebrows rise instantly.

“And second,” he continued, “I don’t owe you a reason.”

Interesting. Very interesting.

You turned into a lingerie store, immediately distracted by rows of lace and silk lining the walls in soft pinks, reds, and blacks. Perfume lingered heavily in the air while soft music played overhead.

Naoya looked like he wanted to die the second he realized where you’d walked into.

You stopped abruptly near the bra section, causing him to nearly walk directly into you.

Then slowly, dramatically, you turned toward him.

“Oh my god.”

His eyes narrowed immediately.

“You’re in love with her.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Naoya looked away first. And that alone told you everything.

Your mouth dropped open in genuine delight.

“No fucking way,” you laughed. “Seriously? You’re actually in love with Professor Sloane?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god you ARE.” You pointed at him accusingly while grinning like a maniac. “That’s insane. She literally gives out eight-page essays for fun.”

“You don’t know anything about her.”

The words came out fast. Protective. Your grin widened instantly.

“Awww.” You clasped your hands together mockingly. “So you know her outside of school.”

No answer.

“Maybe you’ve known her for a long time?”

Still silent. Bullseye.

You gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. You’re on a first-name basis with her too, aren’t you?”

Naoya’s jaw clenched tightly.

“Shut up. You don’t know anything about me or Vivienne.”

Vivienne. Not Mrs. Sloane. Vivienne.

Your eyes widened with excitement like a detective uncovering a massive breakthrough.

“Oh this just keeps getting better,” you laughed. “Wow. Maybe I should switch majors and become an investigative journalist.”

Naoya rolled his eyes hard enough to practically hear it.

You reached over and grabbed a pair of tiny red panties from a nearby display before dangling them in front of his face innocently.

“Wanna buy these for your honey?”

He immediately smacked them out of your hand.

“Stop that.”

His voice came out lower this time. Tighter. You stepped closer instinctively, amusement sparkling in your eyes.

“Or what?”

The distance between you practically disappeared. Only inches separated you now. For the first time all day, Naoya went completely quiet.

His eyes flickered slowly across your face, lingering for just a second too long on your lips before returning to your eyes again.

There was something unreadable sitting behind his expression suddenly. Something heavier.

The tension wrapped tightly around the space between you.

Then abruptly, he stepped away.

“Whatever,” he muttered roughly before turning around and walking deeper into the store. And for some reason… Your stomach flipped a little watching him go.

You finished shopping another hour later, and by the end of it Naoya looked genuinely exhausted.

Several glossy shopping bags hung from both of his arms now, the handles digging harsh red marks into his skin while irritation radiated off him in waves. His blond hair had fallen slightly out of place from constantly running frustrated hands through it, He looked kind of pretty miserable.

You, meanwhile, felt fantastic.

The cool evening air brushed softly against your bare legs as you walked back toward the parking garage, sipping the last bit of your matcha while scrolling aimlessly through your phone.

Naoya loaded the bags into the Porsche trunk with far more aggression than necessary. The ride back to your apartment was painfully silent.

Not that you minded.

You leaned against the passenger seat scrolling through TikTok while city lights streaked across the windows in blurred colors outside. The soft hum of the engine filled the car, broken only occasionally by Naoya tapping irritated fingers against the steering wheel.

The tension sitting between you felt oddly thick now. Different from before. Heavier somehow.

“We’re here,” he muttered eventually, pulling into the apartment complex parking lot. “Get out.”

You blinked at him slowly.

“Uhh… aren’t you going to carry my bags upstairs?”

Naoya turned toward you so slowly it almost looked painful.

“And why,” he asked flatly, “would I do that?”

You simply stared back at him expectantly. The silence stretched.

Then he sighed deeply through his nose before climbing out of the driver’s seat without another word. Victory. You hid your grin while stepping out of the car.

The night air felt cool against your skin while Naoya reluctantly grabbed your mountain of shopping bags from the trunk, looking moments away from collapsing under the weight.

You walked ahead of him toward the elevator, trying—and failing—not to smile the entire time.

The apartment hallway glowed softly under warm overhead lights when you finally reached your floor. You unlocked the front door and pushed it open.

“Room’s down the hall,” you said casually, pointing deeper into the apartment.

Naoya deadpanned at you but carried the bags inside anyway. The second you stepped into the living room, Vicki nearly choked.

Her eyes widened so dramatically you thought they might actually fall out of her head.

“…Do my eyes deceive me,” she whispered slowly, staring past you, “or is Naoya Zenin carrying your shopping bags right now?”

You just winked at her smugly before heading toward your bedroom. Naoya stomped down the hallway behind you, clearly miserable.

By the time you entered your room he was already setting the bags down across your bed with visible annoyance. Shopping bags covered nearly every inch of your comforter now—designer logos, tissue paper, ribbons spilling everywhere.

“Thank you,” you hummed sweetly, kicking your shoes off near the door.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

He straightened up with a tired sigh, clearly waiting for permission to leave. You blinked innocently.

“Why are you still standing there?” you asked. “You can go now.”

You shooed him dramatically with both hands. Naoya looked moments away from saying something rude before you paused suddenly.

“Unless…” Your lips curled slowly into a grin. “You wanna stay for the show?”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Then deliberately—very deliberately—you hooked your fingers underneath the hem of your oversized shirt and started lifting it upward.

The reaction was immediate. Naoya practically malfunctioned. His entire body stiffened while his face turned away so fast it was almost violent.

You had genuinely never seen somebody avoid eye contact faster in your life.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped, voice strained.

You burst into laughter immediately.

He muttered something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch before storming toward the door so quickly he nearly slammed into the frame on the way out.

The apartment door shut loudly seconds later.

And you just stood there laughing to yourself in the middle of your room, shirt still half lifted, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. God. This was way too fun.

The second Naoya left, Vicki came barreling into your room like she physically couldn’t contain herself anymore.

“What the actual fuck was THAT?” she whisper-yelled, staring at the bedroom door dramatically. “Tell me I did not just witness Naoya Zenin carrying your shopping bags like somebody’s fed-up boyfriend.”

You collapsed onto your bed laughing while tossing one of the shopping bags aside.

“You absolutely did.”

Vicki looked genuinely speechless.

“I thought you were exaggerating!” she pointed wildly toward the hallway. “But no—you literally turned him into your servant!”

Vicki grabbed one of your pillows and threw it directly at your face.

“You are actually evil.”

You caught the pillow easily, still laughing.

“I can’t believe he listened to you.”

“Oh, he hates me,” you said happily. “Like genuinely hates me.”

“And somehow that makes this worse.”

You sat up against the headboard while pulling your new purchases from the bags one by one, tissue paper crinkling softly around your room.

Vicki’s eyes narrowed suddenly.

“…Wait.”

You glanced up.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.” She pointed accusingly. “You’ve been smiling ever since you got home.”

You scoffed immediately. “Please. I’m smiling because blackmail is fun.”

“Mhm.”

“And because shopping is fun.”

“Mhm.”

“And because humiliating Naoya Zenin is fun.”

Vicki stared at you silently for a long moment. Then—

“You think he’s hot.”

You nearly choked.

“What? No I don’t.”

“You literally flirted with him.”

“I did not.”

“I heard you teasing him!”

“That was psychological warfare.”

Vicki burst into laughter so violently she almost fell off your bed.

“You are SO into him.”

“I am absolutely not into him,” you argued immediately, heat creeping up your neck anyway. “He’s annoying. And arrogant. And mean.”

“But he’s hot.”

You opened your mouth. Paused. Then narrowed your eyes.

“…Unfortunately.”

Vicki screamed.

“Oh my god I knew it!”

“Shut up,” you groaned, throwing another pillow at her this time. “I do NOT like him.”

“You totally do.”

“I literally blackmailed him!”

“That honestly makes it more romantic somehow.”

You stared at her in horror.

“There is nothing romantic happening here.”

Except… Your brain immediately replayed the moment in the lingerie store. The way his eyes flickered toward your lips. The tension sitting heavy between you.

The weird little flip your stomach did when he stepped closer. Your expression faltered for half a second. Vicki caught it instantly.

“Oh my god,” she whispered dramatically. “Something happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“What happened.”

“Nothing!”

You groaned loudly and flopped backward onto the bed, covering your face with both hands.

“I hate you.”

°❀.ೃ࿔*

Naoya was unusually quiet on the drive back to the frat house.

The inside of the Porsche sat heavy with silence, interrupted only by the low hum of the engine and the occasional flicker of streetlights passing over his face. His hands tightened against the steering wheel while his thoughts replayed the events of the night over and over again like some kind of curse.

You irritated him.

No—that wasn’t even the right word.

You got under his skin in a way nobody else ever had before.

The constant teasing. The smug little smiles. The way you treated him like some stupid wind-up toy just to see how far you could push him before he snapped.

And somehow the worst part was how fucking pretty you looked doing it.

Naoya exhaled sharply through his nose and shook his head hard like he could physically throw the thoughts out.

“Fucking crazy,” he muttered to himself. Why was he letting this happen?

Realistically, he should’ve found some way to ruin you already. Expose you. Threaten you back. Do literally anything besides letting you drag him around like your own personal servant.

So why the hell was he letting you have this kind of power over him?

The Porsche rolled to a stop outside the frat house, headlights illuminating the front lawn littered with empty beer cans and crooked lawn chairs from whatever party had happened the night before.

Ding.

His phone lit up in the cupholder.

Toji: Late night gym sesh?

Naoya stared at the message for a second before giving it a quick thumbs up reaction. Yeah. He needed to hit something. Hard.

He climbed out of the car, exhausted muscles aching from carrying your ridiculous amount of shopping bags all evening. The frat house buzzed faintly with noise inside, muffled music thumping somewhere upstairs, but he ignored it completely while heading straight for his room.

His gym bag hit the backseat a minute later with a heavy thud. The campus gym was nearly empty by the time he arrived.

Fluorescent lights reflected harshly off polished floors while the scent of rubber mats and metal weights lingered heavily in the air. Because Toji was head captain, he had special after-hours access—which Naoya fully intended to abuse tonight.

“Yo, cuz.”

Toji looked up from adjusting weights near the bench press.

“You look like absolute shit.”

Naoya gave him a tired dap before sighing deeply.

“Yeah. I feel that way.”

Toji smirked slightly. “Go change. Then you can tell me whatever’s got you looking like somebody killed your dog.”

A few minutes later Naoya laid flat beneath the bench press, fingers gripping the bar tightly while Toji spotted above him.

Metal clanked softly as he pushed the weight upward.

“So,” Toji said casually, “what’s on your mind?”

Naoya hesitated immediately. How the hell was he supposed to explain this without exposing literally everything?

“There’s this girl,” he finally muttered while lifting again, muscles straining under the weight. “She’s driving me fucking crazy. I don’t know how to get rid of her.”

Toji raised an eyebrow instantly.

“Did you fuck her?”

The response came so fast Naoya almost dropped the bar.

“What? No. Why the hell would I do that?”

Toji barked out a laugh.

“Well there’s your problem.” He shook his head knowingly. “Obviously she wants some if she’s all over you like that.”

Naoya rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like that.”

“Man, dick always makes annoying girls shut up.”

Despite himself, Naoya snorted quietly at that.

“It’s seriously not like that,” he repeated, sitting up finally while dragging a towel across the back of his neck. “She’s got something over my head.”

Toji switched places with him on the bench press.

“Exactly why you should fuck her,” he grunted while lifting the bar. “Distract her. Dick her down so good she forgets why she’s mad at you in the first place.”

Naoya scoffed quietly.

“It’s not that simple.”

Toji slid the weights back onto the rack before glancing over at him curiously.

“Is she hot?” Naoya paused. Only for a second.

“…Painfully so.”

Toji immediately grinned.

“Oh that’s even better.”

Naoya groaned and leaned back against the machine behind him.

“I don’t know, man.” He rubbed tiredly at his face. “She definitely hates me. And I definitely hate her.”

Toji laughed softly while grabbing his water bottle.

“Trust me.” He pointed at him knowingly. “When a girl says she hates you? Half the time she really just wants to fuck you.”

Naoya rolled his eyes immediately.

“Yeah right.”

“You’ll see,” Toji smirked. “Mark my words.”

But even hours later, after the workout ended and Naoya finally dragged himself back to the frat house, the words stayed stuck in his head anyway.

He collapsed face-first onto his bed, exhausted muscles heavy from both the gym and being your unwilling errand boy all damn day.

The room sat dark except for faint moonlight slipping through the blinds. You hated him. Obviously. There was no way someone like you would ever actually be into him. Right? Still…

His brain betrayed him instantly by replaying the image of you lifting your shirt earlier. The smug grin on your face. The teasing look in your eyes. Naoya groaned loudly into his pillow.

Then eventually exhaustion pulled him under completely.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

The next morning, his phone practically exploded with notifications before he’d even fully woken up.

Master💋: Bring me a keto smoothie Master💋: Are you good at massages? Master💋: Whatever we’ll find out when you get here. Master💋: Hello, hurry up! Master💋: You’d better be awake!

Naoya stared at the screen with pure hatred.

God.

Did you ever shut the fuck up?

He rubbed sleep from his eyes before immediately typing out an irritated response.

Then he forced himself out of bed and into the shower, hot water steaming around him while he tried washing away the soreness in his muscles.

By the time he finished getting ready, he barely put effort into his appearance. Gray sweats. Black fitted shirt. Done.

Honestly, he just wanted to survive whatever bullshit you were planning today.

When he finally arrived at your apartment with smoothie in hand, the door opened before he could knock twice.

But it wasn’t you standing there. A girl with short hair and glasses blinked at him curiously from the doorway.

Your roommate. Right?

Last time he’d stormed out of the apartment so fast he barely remembered anything except your laugh echoing behind him.

The roommate raised one eyebrow before stepping aside.

“Come on in.”

“Thanks,” Naoya muttered awkwardly, slipping his shoes off near the door.

“She’s in her room.”

He nodded once before heading down the hallway. And there you were.

Spread across your bed flipping lazily through a magazine like you didn’t have a single care in the world. Morning sunlight spilled across your room in warm golden stripes, catching against your bare legs while soft music hummed quietly somewhere in the background.

Completely unbothered. Completely pretty. And somehow already ruining his day again.

You noticed Naoya standing quietly in the doorway, smoothie in hand, looking like he already regretted coming here.

The second your eyes landed on the drink, your entire face brightened.

“Ooo, thank you,” you hummed happily, immediately snatching it from his hand before he could say anything.

The cold plastic cup pressed against your palm while you stabbed the straw through the lid and took a sip. Sweet. Perfect. He even got your order right.

Maybe he was trainable after all.

Naoya lingered awkwardly near the doorway for another second, eyes slowly drifting around your room.

Then he scoffed.

“Your room is so pretentious.”

You lowered the smoothie slowly.

“…I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

His mouth twitched slightly like he was trying not to smirk.

The morning sunlight pouring through your windows painted your room in warm gold, reflecting softly off the giant vanity mirror pushed against one wall. Perfume bottles, skincare products, candles, and scattered jewelry decorated nearly every surface in organized chaos. Fluffy blankets covered your bed while pink and cream pillows were piled obnoxiously high near the headboard.

Your room looked like a rich influencer’s Pinterest board. You were proud of that. You pointed toward the chair sitting in front of your vanity.

“Sit.”

Naoya stared at you suspiciously for a second before reluctantly walking over and dropping into the chair.

What a good boy.

You hid your grin behind your smoothie.

“My massage lady canceled,” you explained casually while setting your magazine aside, “and my back has been killing me lately.”

Naoya already looked concerned.

“So I need someone else to do it.” You smiled sweetly. “Aka you.”

His eyebrows immediately furrowed.

“…Why wouldn’t you just ask your roommate?” He pointed vaguely toward the bedroom door. “Isn’t that what roommates are for?”

You shook your head dramatically.

“Vicki’s hands are too small. She has more of a delicate touch.” Your eyes slid slowly over him. “I need someone rougher.”

Naoya froze slightly at that. Just enough for you to notice.

His brows lifted slowly while his eyes flickered toward you with something unreadable sitting behind them again.

You almost smiled. Almost. Instead, you took another innocent sip of your smoothie like you hadn’t said anything weird at all.

You set your smoothie down on the vanity before standing from the bed with a lazy stretch, the oversized shirt slipping slightly off one shoulder.

“Come on,” you said casually, motioning for him to follow.

Naoya barely looked up from his phone as he trailed behind you through the apartment hallway.

You stopped at a door near the end of the hall and pushed it open.

Warm amber lighting spilled into the hallway instantly.

The room looked more like a private spa than part of an apartment—soft cream walls, low lighting, candles flickering lazily near the corners, shelves lined with expensive oils and skincare products. A sleek massage table sat in the center of the room with plush towels folded neatly nearby while quiet instrumental music drifted softly through hidden speakers overhead.

Naoya glanced around once.

“That’s excessive.”

You scoffed dramatically.

“Don’t look at me like that. I care about my health and my body.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

You walked over to one of the shelves, grabbing a glass bottle filled with golden oil before tossing it toward him lightly.

“Use that one.”

Naoya caught it one-handed without looking.

You climbed onto the massage table with a small sigh, resting on your knees while adjusting the oversized shirt hanging loosely off your frame.

“Well?” he asked flatly. “You gonna start complaining about your back or just stare at me all day?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Turn around.”

One eyebrow lifted immediately.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

He let out a quiet scoff but turned anyway, broad shoulders facing you while he looked toward the shelves lining the wall.

Satisfied, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it slowly over your head before tossing it onto a nearby chair. Cool air brushed across your bare skin instantly, making you shiver slightly before laying flat onto your stomach against the warm leather table.

Your cheek rested against your folded arms while your hair spilled loosely across one side of your face.

“Okay,” you said casually. “You can look now.”

Naoya turned back around mid-response—

Then paused. Not dramatically. Not obviously.

Just enough for his eyes to flick downward for half a second before his expression settled right back into that same lazy nonchalance he always carried.

“You don’t own a bra?” he asked dryly.

“You wear one while getting a massage?”

“…Fair point.”

You smiled smugly into your arms.

The position kept everything hidden anyway, your body pressed fully against the table while only the smooth curve of your bare back and shoulders remained visible beneath the dim amber lighting.

Naoya walked closer slowly. The room felt impossibly warm now.

Candles flickered softly near the walls while the quiet instrumental music drifted through the air in slow, sleepy waves. Outside the windows the city moved distantly beneath the afternoon sun, but inside the room everything felt still.

Private. Too quiet. The oil bottle clicked softly open in his hand.

You heard him pour some into his palm before rubbing his hands together, warming it first.

Then finally his hands settled against your shoulders.

The heat made you exhale instantly.

“Jesus,” you muttered into your arms.

Naoya ignored the comment, fingers pressing slowly into the tense muscles near your shoulders while oil slicked smoothly across your skin. His touch stayed firm and controlled, rough palms dragging carefully downward before working their way back up again.

The pressure made your entire spine relax.

“Mhm,” you hummed softly. “Okay maybe you’re useful for something.”

“Don’t sound too shocked.”

His thumbs pressed deeper near the knot sitting between your shoulders and your breath caught softly in your throat.

Naoya noticed. Of course he did.

“You’re tense as hell,” he muttered.

“I told you my back hurts.”

“No,” he said calmly, hands sliding lower along your spine, “I think you just like ordering people around.”

You laughed quietly.

“And I think you secretly like being ordered around.”

Naoya snorted under his breath.

“Keep dreaming.”

Still— His hands never stopped moving.

The oil left your skin glowing beneath the soft amber lighting, his palms gliding smoothly along the curve of your back while slow music hummed around the room. Every now and then his fingers would press into another knot and your shoulders would loosen a little more beneath his touch.

“You know,” you mumbled lazily into your arms, “for somebody who complains this much, you’re putting a lot of effort into this.”

“I don’t half-ass things.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

Naoya rolled his eyes though you couldn’t see it.

His hands slid slowly upward again, thumbs pressing firmly along either side of your spine. Heat pooled low in your stomach every time his rough hands dragged against your skin, and judging by the way his jaw tightened occasionally, he was becoming a little too aware of it too.

The room fell quiet for a moment. Just candles crackling softly. Music humming low. Your breathing slower now than before.

Then—

“Your skin’s soft.”

The words slipped out before Naoya could stop them.

Silence.

You slowly turned your head just enough to glance back at him over your shoulder, amusement flickering immediately across your face.

“…Was that a compliment?”

“No.”

“You literally just complimented me.”

“I stated an observation.”

A grin spread slowly across your lips. Naoya clicked his tongue in annoyance the second he saw it.

“There’s that ego again.”

“You’re feeding it,” you teased softly.

His hands paused briefly against your lower back before continuing again, slower this time. More careful.

And suddenly neither of you were talking anymore. Eventually Naoya’s hands slowed against your back.

The room had gone almost completely quiet now, soft music humming faintly beneath the sound of candles crackling nearby. Your muscles felt loose and warm beneath the oil while sleepiness tugged pleasantly at the edges of your mind.

“There,” he muttered finally, stepping back slightly. “You can stop acting like you’re dying now.”

You let out a dramatic sigh into your arms.

“Wow. So rude to an injured person.”

“You survived.”

“Barely.”

Naoya rolled his eyes automatically while screwing the cap back onto the oil bottle.

You slowly pushed yourself upright on the massage table, hair falling messily over your shoulders while the cool air brushed across your skin again.

“Turn around,” you said casually.

Naoya immediately snorted.

“You act like I’m trying to peek.”

“Just turn around.”

“Bossy.”

Still, he turned anyway, leaning one shoulder lazily against the wall while facing away from you.

You grabbed your oversized shirt from the nearby chair and slipped it back on quickly before hopping down from the table.

“Okay,” you said. “You can stop being dramatic now.”

Naoya glanced back over his shoulder briefly before following you both out of the massage room and back toward your bedroom.

The second he stepped inside, he completely ignored your vanity chair this time and flopped directly across your bed instead.

You stopped in the doorway.

“…You’ve sure made yourself comfortable.”

Naoya stretched one arm behind his head lazily, looking entirely unbothered.

“Well,” he said casually, “I would think being your personal little attendant would make us closer. No?”

You scoffed immediately, though the corner of your mouth twitched anyway.

“Don’t push it.”

Your bed dipped slightly as you sat near the edge, grabbing your smoothie again while Naoya stayed sprawled across the comforter like he paid rent there. The late afternoon sunlight pouring through your windows cast soft gold across the room now, catching against the messy shopping bags still scattered near the corner from yesterday.

For once, the silence between you didn’t feel tense. Just… easy.

Naoya glanced toward the stack of sketchbooks sitting near your vanity.

“You draw?”

You looked over. “Sometimes.”

“Hm.”

“Hm what?”

“I didn’t picture you doing anything besides bullying people online.”

You gasped dramatically.

“I’m multifaceted actually.”

He snorted quietly.

You took another sip of your smoothie before nodding toward him.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You have hobbies? Or do you just walk around campus terrorizing women full-time?”

Naoya looked offended for maybe half a second.

“I box.”

You blinked.

“Actually?”

“Mhm.”

“That explains a lot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You seem like someone that enjoys punching things.”

His mouth twitched slightly like he was trying not to laugh.

“You spend enough time around annoying people and suddenly punching things becomes relaxing.”

“Wow,” you sighed dramatically. “That sounded weirdly deep.”

“It wasn’t.”

You smiled a little into your drink.

Another quiet pause settled over the room after that, softer this time. Less awkward.

Naoya’s eyes drifted lazily around your room again before landing on the polaroids pinned near your mirror.

“You take all those?”

You nodded. “Most of them.”

“They’re good.” The compliment came so casually it almost caught you off guard.

You stared at him for a second.

“…You’re surprisingly tolerable today.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Neither of you moved to end the conversation.

The conversation eventually slowed into something quieter. Not awkward. Just calm.

Naoya still laid across your bed like he belonged there now, one arm tucked behind his head while the other rested lazily against his stomach. The late afternoon sunlight spilling through your windows painted warm gold across his skin, catching against the soft blond strands falling slightly into his face.

You found yourself staring before you even realized you were doing it.

At first it was innocent. Mostly.

You noticed things you hadn’t really let yourself focus on before because usually he was either glaring at you, arguing with you, or carrying your shopping bags while threatening violence.

But right now he looked… relaxed. Pretty. Annoyingly pretty.

His lashes were longer than they had any right to be. His jaw looked sharp enough to cut someone, though the softness of his half-lidded expression balanced it out just enough. Even his lips looked unfairly perfect—slightly pink, naturally pouty in a way that made it look like he was permanently unimpressed with the world around him.

Which honestly? He probably was. Your eyes drifted lower.

The black fitted shirt stretched comfortably across his chest and shoulders, sleeves hugging his arms just enough to make it painfully obvious how built he was. Rings glinted faintly against his fingers whenever he shifted slightly against your comforter.

God. You hated how attractive he was.

Maybe “hate” wasn’t even the right word anymore.

Because somewhere between blackmailing him, dragging him shopping, and letting him massage oil into your bare skin, something had shifted slightly.

Not fully. Just enough to notice. Naoya suddenly glanced over.

“You’re staring.”

Your brain short-circuited for half a second.

“No I’m not.”

“You literally are.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Looks dangerous.”

You rolled your eyes automatically, but your gaze drifted right back toward him again anyway. And the worst part?

This time he noticed you looking and didn’t immediately tell you to stop.

Instead he just watched you quietly for a second, expression unreadable in that irritatingly calm way of his.

The room suddenly felt warmer again. Too warm. Your mind started drifting somewhere dangerous after that. Very dangerous.

Because now all you could think about was how pretty he looked laid out across your bed like this. How his hands felt against your skin earlier. How his voice dropped lower whenever he got annoyed with you.

And then a truly horrible idea started forming in your head. Slowly. Deliberately. The kind of idea that would absolutely ruin your life a little.

Your lips curled slightly before you could stop them. Naoya narrowed his eyes immediately.

“…Why are you smiling like that?”

Oh.

This was about to become a really bad idea.You pull his face closer to you and, before you can even think twice about it, kiss him.

Naoya freezes instantly. Like his entire body short-circuits beneath your touch. You were kissing him. Why were you kissing him? And why did it feel this good?

The hesitation only lasts a second before he kisses you back with a ferocity that nearly steals the breath from your lungs. His hand moves instinctively to your waist, fingers gripping tighter like he’s scared you’ll pull away if he doesn’t hold on.

A low groan rumbles from his chest into your mouth. You can practically feel the tension snapping inside him.

He pulls away suddenly, breathing unevenly, lips swollen from kissing you.

“Why did you do that?” he asks, staring at you like he can’t figure you out.

Your heavy-lidded eyes drift down toward him.

“I have an ache,” you murmur softly.

Something in his expression changes after that.

His hand slides up your jaw before he kisses you again, slower this time but somehow even more intense.

His tongue explores your mouth while his hands roam carefully over your body, heat clinging to his palms. The mattress dips beneath both of your shifting weight while you move closer without even realizing it.

Then you pull away just enough to breathe.

“Get on your knees.”

Naoya looks up at you immediately, eyes dark and unfocused.

“Why?”

You don’t answer right away.

You just stare down at him expectantly, one eyebrow lifting slightly like you’re waiting to see if he’ll listen. And weirdly enough—

He does.

Slowly, Naoya shifts off the bed. His large hands drag briefly across your thighs as he moves downward, settling onto the floor between your legs while still looking up at you like he’s half annoyed and half completely hypnotized by you.

The position alone sends heat straight through you.

You press your foot slowly against him through his sweats and his head immediately falls back with a strained groan.

“Agnh—fuck—”

“Dirty slut,” you murmur. “You like that?”

You continue pressing down while watching every tiny reaction on his face.

“You like your dick being stepped on, huh?” You continue to press down and he whimpers out a nod.

“Look how hard you are and I barely even touched you.”

You feel the arousal pool in your panties. Naoya just becomes a whimpering mess under your foot.

“Agnh please~” He grabs the back of your foot. “Don’t stop, agnh~ fuckk—”

He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Suck it,” you practically command.

“What?” he looks up questioningly.

“Are you deaf?” you motion, sliding your shorts to the side, revealing your bare cunt to him.

His eyes go wide. You’re dripping wet and his mouth practically waters.

“I’ve never done that before,” he hesitates.

“Seriously? You’ve never eaten a girl out?” you look at him in disbelief.

“I don’t know, I just never thought I would like it,” he stares up at you, eyes glossy with lust.

You pout. “So you’re gonna leave your master hanging?”

He swallows loudly before grabbing your shorts and tugging them down. He takes in all the beauty that is your pussy, brimming with arousal.

‘Has a pussy ever been this pretty?’ he thought to himself.

He grabs the underside of your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. He drags a flat tongue across you.

You have to throw your head back to stop yourself from screaming, pressing yourself closer, your mound fitting perfectly against his face, the tip of his nose brushing against the sensitive hood of your clit.

His hands grip your thighs, squeezing, grounding you as he laps at your folds, letting out the sweetest, neediest sounds you’ve ever heard.

His mouth seals around your puffy lips, sucking gently before his tongue spears back inside your cunt, curling against your sweet walls.

“Fuckk—you taste so good,” he moans into your folds.

You ride his face like there’s no tomorrow. You gently tug his blond hair, balancing yourself from falling over the edge. You throw a hand over your mouth, trying to contain yourself.

He palms himself through his sweats, getting off to the sound of your sweet muffled moans. That only makes him suck harder.

“Let me hear you, please—” he groans into you, lapping at you more vigorously.

“Agnh—fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

You tug his hair with a death grip. That only makes him groan louder. You wrap your legs around his shoulders, pulling him even closer to you.

“You like that, princess?” he groans. “Like the way I flick my tongue on this tight little pussy?”

You ride his face faster.

Naoya Zenin would have never guessed in a million years that the first time he would be eating pussy, it would be his blackmailer’s.

It’s not that he never wanted to do it, it’s just that he wasn’t interested in doing it on any other girl except one… but he couldn’t have her, so why were you different? And why did you feel so good on his tongue?

“AHH FUCK—”

Your release makes you double over, legs spasming. He moves in and licks at your gaping hole in an attempt to finally get a raw taste of you. He laps up the juices on his tongue.

Sure, he got to savor a bit of you just from sucking you off, but that was far from enough.

He continues palming himself, itching for some sort of release.

“That was good, you can go now,” you sigh, sliding yourself off him and grabbing your shorts to pull them back on.

Naoya kneels there dumbfounded.

‘Are you seriously blue balling him right now?’ it was written all over his expression.

“Seriously, go. I have class super early tomorrow,” you sigh, rolling onto your bed and grabbing your phone.

Still dumbfounded, he grabs his keys off your nightstand.

“Whatever,” he scoffs before walking off.

“Byee,” you wave as he shuts the door.

As he walks down the stairs of your apartment building, he eyes the tent in his pants and rolls his eyes. What were you doing to him?

The car ride home is silent, but his mind swarms.

‘Wtf made me eat her out and she won’t even return the favor?’ he thinks to himself.

As soon as he gets back to the frat, he runs the shower, trying to get rid of his little problem.

He runs his face under the cold water.

“Fuck, why won’t it go down?”

He stares at his throbbing cock pulsing, waiting for some sort of release.

“Fuck—”

He braces an arm against the shower tiles, fisting himself in his palm.

“Greedy bitch—agnh—fuck—”

He strokes himself faster with more ferocity until his cum paints the shower wall.

He drags a lazy finger over his tip.

“What the fuck is she doing to me?”

previous chapter series masterlist next chapter

[a/n] - yayy another chapter, also my first time writing smut😭 please let me know how I did and if you want to be tagged in the next part!

[Series Summary] Campus golden boy Naoya Zenin, you stumble upon his humiliating secret. Giving you the perfect opportunity to finally get revenge on the arrogant frat boy who’s tormented you for years. But as blackmail, tension, and attraction collide, their rivalry becomes far more dangerous than either expected. [Frat Naoya! x Influencer Reader]

[TAGS] ~~ MDNI 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. dom!reader. angst. blackmail. toxic frat culture. fraternities. hurt/comfort. hurt/no comfort. dacryphilia. alcohol. family trauma. SLOW BURN. reader slightly oc. HAPPY ENDING. tags will be updated as series continues.

✦ ch 1 One Hell of a Secret

✦ ch 2 Walk Em’ Like a Dog

✦ ch 3 Crossing Lines

✦ ch 4 Mistakes

✦ ch 5 The Get Back

✦ ch 6 Where We Began: Part one & Part two

Main masterlist Ask to be tagged

✦ Age should be visible on your blog

[SUMMARY] - With emotions running higher than ever, the line between what’s wanted and what’s needed begins to blur. Sometimes the people closest to your heart are the ones most capable of breaking it.

[TAGS] - MDNI 18+ ONLY. Profanity. Toxicity. Enemies to Lovers. Forced proximity. Slightly mean reader. Exhibitionism. Fingering. Fingerfucking. PIV. Unprotected sex. Degradation. Bathroom sex. ANGST. Dominant Naoya. Choking. Aftercare. (wc 8.7k)

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°❀.ೃ࿔* Mistakes

The next morning, you woke up feeling strangely rested. Which was annoying. Because after everything that had happened with Naoya, you should have been spiraling.

Instead, sunlight streamed through the gap in your curtains, painting warm golden stripes across your comforter while your phone buzzed somewhere beneath your pillow.

For one blissful second, you forgot everything.

Then reality came crashing back. Your face immediately disappeared into your pillow.

"Oh, my God."

You groaned dramatically into the mattress. This was a disaster. Not because something bad had happened. Quite the opposite.

That was the problem. You liked it. You liked him.

And somehow that felt significantly worse. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling. The white paint overhead offered no answers. Unfortunately.

Because right now your brain feels split directly down the middle. One side kept reminding you that Naoya Zenin was objectively a terrible choice.

Arrogant.

Annoying.

A walking red flag.

The other side kept remembering the way he'd wrapped his arms around you and held onto you like you were something precious.

Which was deeply inconvenient. 

You grab your phone off the nightstand, blindly scrolling through Instagram. Responding to collab offers and other random DMs when you remember. 

Toji Zenin started following you. 

And you followed him back?

You had no idea what to do with that information. For months—okay, maybe longer than months—you'd had a harmless little crush on Toji.

The kind of crush that existed safely in your imagination. The kind that never went anywhere.

Toji was attractive. Ridiculously attractive. Confident. Funny. Easy to talk to.

The type of guy everyone liked. You'd accepted long ago that nothing would ever come from it.

And then he started showing interest in you, talking to you?

You had already shamelessly stalked and oogled all his photos last night before passing out from exhaustion.

But immediately afterward, guilt followed. Because your next thought wasn't about Toji. It was about Naoya.

You threw your phone across the bed.

"Nope." Absolutely not.

You were not doing this. You were not creating some bizarre love triangle in your own head before breakfast. A knock sounded against your bedroom door.

Then Vicki walked in without waiting for permission.

"Morning."

You groaned.

"Go away."

"No."

Vicky took one look at your face and immediately grinned.

"Oh, my God."

"What?"

"You were thinking about him."

You buried your face in your pillow again.

"Leave me alone."

"You totally were."

"I hate you."

"I know."

Vicki laughed. “Up and at 'em, lazy, let’s go get breakfast,” she smacks your leg. 

“Ow? What the hell.” 

“Come on,” she pleads like she’s some lost puppy.

“Get ready, I’ll pay,” she winks.

“Well, since you're offering,” you rolled out of bed with a smile tugging at your lips.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

An hour later, Vicki hated you.

Specifically because you looked too good to be real, were you an AI robot?

"Life is so unfair sometimes," she laughs. 

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror one final time. The outfit was cute. Not overly dressed up. Just cute.

A cream-colored button-up tucked neatly into a black pleated skirt. Simple gold jewelry. Black kitten heels.

Your oversized purse rested on your shoulder while your hair fell perfectly around your face.

You'd spent extra time on your makeup, too. Not because of anyone. Obviously.

"You look like you're going on a date."

"Yeah, with you." You wink, blowing her a kiss. 

She rolls her eyes, laughing, and grabs her keys to the loft.

The café near campus buzzed with life.

Students crowded tables with laptops and textbooks while soft music drifted through hidden speakers overhead.

The smell of espresso and pastries filled the air. It was your favorite place near campus. Mostly because the matcha was actually good.

Unlike the sad green swamp water some cafés tried to pass off as matcha. You ordered your usual.

Vicki ordered enough caffeine to stop a horse. Then the interrogation began.

"So."

You immediately sighed.

"No."

"We're having this conversation."

"We're not."

"We absolutely are."

You took a long sip of your drink.

Vicki leaned forward.

"When are you going to confess your undying love for Naoya?" You blinked.

"...What?"

"You heard me." You thought about it.

“I don’t love Naoya..” you pause “I just feel a strong connection to him.”

“Right ok…look, I’ve known you my whole life, you don’t do anything half speed, that includes falling in love.” 

“So why are you hesitating so much?” She questions

“Because oddly enough I don’t want to ruin this…” You continue, “At first it was just to get back at some asshole, but the more time I spent with him, the more I learned about him. I caught myself feeling for him.” You sigh

Vicki laughs, slowly clapping her hands together. “Wow, poetic, was that before or after you jumped his bones?” 

“Shut up!” you roll your eyes playfully.

“But seriously, just confess, see where it takes you, it’s better to know, right?” she eyes you. You consider it for a moment.

“You know what, maybe you're right, Vick. I should know what’s the worst that could happen?” You straighten your shoulders, hyping yourself up.

“That’s my girl,” she says, high-fiving you across the table.

“Ok, but I need some time to work out the courage. I haven’t taken a man seriously since like 2019.” You scoff, flipping your hair.

Vicki laughs while sipping her latte.

"What about that little crush you had on Toji?"

You nearly choked.

"Won’t that make things messy, like both cousins and all?" She eyes you suspiciously

"Toji’s just hot, is all." You looked down at your phone sitting beside your drink.

"Do you still like him?" 

You hesitated.

"No, and plus he would never pay me the time of day anyway." 

Vicki narrowed her eyes.

"Interesting."

"No, it isn't."

"It kind of is." 

“Whatever, think what you want, I’m off for another day to expand my academic prowess,” you stand up, straightening your skirt.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

By the time you reached your classroom, you'd managed to convince yourself you were perfectly normal. Completely normal.

Totally unaffected by the fact that you'd just admitted to Vicki that you liked Naoya. And how she had psyched you into confessing to him.

Toji sat slouched comfortably in his chair, one long arm draped over the backrest while he scrolled through his phone. Tight muscle shirt hugging every curve of his chest. Unlike most students rushing to make it to class on time, he looked completely unbothered by the world around him.

The second he noticed you, a grin spread across his face.

Uh oh.

"Morning, doll."

Your stomach immediately betrayed you. Traitor. You adjusted your purse higher on your shoulder.

"Morning."

Toji's eyes slowly traveled over your outfit. Not in a creepy way. Just enough to make you aware he was looking.

"You look nice."

Your eyebrows shot up.

"Thanks?"

He laughed. Why was he like this?

You dropped into the seat beside him before he could say anything else. Across the table, Emi looked between the two of you.

Then immediately smirked. You didn't like that smirk. Not one bit.

"Good morning," Emi sang.

The way she said it made you instantly suspicious.

"Why do you sound like that?"

"Sound like what?"

"Like you're plotting." She gasped dramatically.

"I would never."

Liar. Absolute liar.

The professor walked in before the conversation could continue, immediately pulling everyone's attention toward the front of the room.

"Good morning, everyone."

The collective groan that followed was almost impressive. The professor ignored it.

"As a reminder, your project is worth forty percent of your final grade."

Half the class suddenly sat up straighter. 

The next hour passed surprisingly quickly. Mostly because every time you tried focusing on the project, somebody distracted you. Usually Toji.

Eyeing you shamelessly. Practically burning a hole into you, it made you so aware of everything about yourself. You have a bad habit of bouncing your leg when you're nervous. 

Toji noticed.

Leaned in next to your ear, “Nervous.”

You practically jumped out of your seat, his deep voice making your head swirl. He laughed at your reaction.

“Why would I be nervous?” you eyed him wearily.

“Finals coming up, you must be really stressed.” he leans in even closer.

Now you turn to face him, breath catching in your throat. His eyes pierce yours, scar tugging at his lips.

“I can help with that,” his face drops down to a whisper. 

“How?” you question

He plays with a strand of hair, twirling it around his finger. “I’m really good with my hands.” He looks at you, eyes filled with lust.

You smack his hand away. Turning away instantly, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"You are crazy." 

"I've been told that."

"Repeatedly, I assume."

"Daily."

Toji looked oddly pleased by that. Which immediately made you suspicious.

Emi noticed too. Of course she did. Emi noticed everything.

“God, you're such a creep,” Emi rolls her eyes with vigor.

Toji laughed again. And somehow that made it worse. Because his laugh was annoyingly attractive.

Everything about this man was annoyingly attractive. Which was unfortunate. Because now you couldn't stop comparing him to Naoya.

Toji was fun, an easy distraction.

Naoya felt like standing too close to the edge of a cliff, desperately clinging to its edge.

Your thoughts then strayed to Naoya again, his smile, his sharp yet soft eyes, his messy yet somehow always perfect-looking hair. So wrapped in your fantasies, you nearly missed Toji speaking.

"Hey."

You blinked.

"What?"

"I asked if you're free Saturday."

“Why?’

“Well, the frat’s throwing their annual pool party and I was wondering if the princess would grace us with her presence.” Your stomach fluttered slightly.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Toji narrowed his eyes.

"You're difficult."

“Charming, you mean.” You smiled sweetly. Resting your head in your palm.

“That too,” he smiled.

God. You could see why people liked him. Everything with Toji felt effortless. Like breathing. Like something that asked for nothing from you.

And maybe that was exactly why it scared you a little. Because easy had never really been your thing.

Class finally ended. Students immediately began packing their things.

The room erupted into conversation and moving chairs. Toji stood. You stood.

Emi immediately vanished before either of you could say goodbye.

"You heading home?" Toji asked.

"No. Library."

"Look at you being responsible."

You rolled your eyes.

"Some of us are actually dedicated to our studies."

"Harsh."

"But true."

Toji placed a hand dramatically over his heart.

"I thought we had something special." 

You laughed despite yourself.

Then immediately regretted it. Because Toji looked way too pleased.

"See you Saturday, doll."

Your stomach did that stupid fluttering thing again. Before you could stop yourself, you smiled.

"Like I said, maybe!"

And for some reason, as you walked away, your hand was already reaching for your phone.

Opening your messages. Finding one contact in particular. Naoya. You stared at the screen for a moment.

Maybe you should do it now, lay it all out on the table, get it over with, and confess your feelings. He can accept them or reject them. Who cares, right? 

You went back and forth with the idea before finally deciding on holding off, giving it more time.

Maybe this was just a whim of yours; you had those often. Feelings? for Naoya? ridiculous.

You then typed.

You: library

You: now

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately. And despite everything—

Your heart reacted faster than ever. The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

Naoya: bossy

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth before you could stop it.

You: get over it

Naoya: no

You: library I need help with an assignment, time for you to put that big brain to use ;)

Naoya: Yes, ma'am

You stared at the message. Then immediately hated how much you liked it. This was ridiculous.

You shoved your phone into your purse and headed across campus, the sun beginning to fade.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

The library sat near the center of campus, towering over everything else with massive windows and rows upon rows of books that nobody actually touched anymore.

Most students came to the study rooms. Or the free air conditioning. You arrived first. Which wasn't surprising.

Naoya was physically incapable of showing up on time for anything.

You found a table tucked away in a quieter section of the building, one that was completely blocked off from prying eyes, before dropping your bag beside you.

The library was already a ghost town with a few students sitting all the way across the building.

For a few minutes, you actually attempted to focus. Keyword: Attempted.

Then you felt a presence behind you.

You blinked. Slowly. Then, looked up. Unfortunately, that was a mistake. Because Naoya was standing right above you, a smile was plastered on his face. 

Too close. Too beautiful

Because why did he always have to look like that? Then he smirked. Asshole. You flipped him off. His grin only widened.

A few seconds later, he dropped into the chair across from you.

"You know," he said casually, setting his drink down, "most people say hello."

"Most people aren't you."

"Fair."

You stared at him. He stared back. Then—

"You look stressed." His eyebrows lifted.

“I’m not stressed.” 

A smug look settled across his face.

"Sure"

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm literally not."

"You are."

You grabbed a pencil. Threateningly. Naoya laughed. A real laugh. Not the sarcastic kind he usually gave. Not the arrogant one. A genuine laugh.

And for a second, you just stared. Because you realized something. You liked making him laugh. A lot. More than you probably should. The realization hit you hard enough that you immediately looked down at your textbook. 

“Anyways, just use that brain of yours to help me understand this,” you flip your textbook over to him.

He looks at the book, then you.

"You actually need help with this assignment?"

His voice broke through your thoughts.

"Just help me."

He sighed dramatically.

Then plopped his chair directly next to you. He was far too close. Your heartbeat immediately sped up.

The smell of his cologne hit you first. Something expensive. Clean. Naoya leaned over your textbook.

His shoulder brushed yours. Your brain ceased functioning.

"Okay." He pointed at the text.

"This part is easy." Easy for him, maybe. The next hour passed surprisingly quickly. Naoya explained concepts. You pretended to listen.

The problem was that his face was right there. His voice was right there. Everything about him was right there.

Making concentration nearly impossible. At one point, your fingers brushed. Neither of you moved away immediately. The moment lingered slightly too long.

Then both of you looked away at the same time. The tension settled over the table like a living thing. Heavy. Warm.

Impossible to ignore. A nearby student dropped a book. You practically jumped.

Naoya laughed.

"Relax."

"You relax."

"You're stressed."

"I'm not stressed."

His eyes lit up with the same mischievous look he had when he was about to do or say something stupid.

His grin returned. “ I know just the remedy for stress,” he said, placing a hand atop your thigh. Brushing dangerously close.

You know what he meant, but you didn’t want to believe he’d do something so reckless.

“What are you doing? What if someone sees?!” You look around, panicked. His hand moved higher.

“Relax, it’s almost 10, nobody’s at the library around this time, plus this spot is kind of secluded”. His voice tickles your ear.

You look around anxiously. Naoya presses kisses along your jaw. You wanted to shove him off, tell him this was crazy, but his kisses were practically disorienting you.

“Come on, let me make you feel better, hmm?” He’s nibbling on your earlobe now.

His hands dig under your skirt, fingers skimming your panties. His fingers are brushing against your clothed clit. You shift on the edge of the risk of being caught in such a scandalizing position. He only presses more.

His voice shifts to a low purr, “Do you like it when I touch you here?” 

You attempt to steady your breathing, mustering up the courage to respond. “Y-yes-” you whisper, feeling his breath only an inch from your face. 

You practically melt into his touch, letting out a quiet whimper.

That sound was music to his ears, so needy already. “Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” he whispers, pressing another couple of kisses to your neck, your body beginning to slowly relax under his touch. He pushes your legs apart gently, careful to make no sudden moves. 

"So sensitive."

He kisses your neck a little firmer now, tongue brushing over your skin as you tilt your head back to grant him more access. You felt dirty doing this in public, where anyone could walk by and see. But also extremely turned on.

Slowly but surely, he pushes your panties aside, gently propping your leg over his. He swipes his middle finger over your folds, gathering your slick. He hums in satisfaction, “fuck, so wet already.”

“M’fuck” you whisper delicately, your clit aching for his touch. In fact, you’d never ached like this before in your life.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” he smirks, using his other hand to turn your face to his. He leans in unhurriedly, pressing a kiss to your lips. Simultaneously, he brushes his thumb over your clit, making you sigh in relief against his mouth. Naoya drinks down your soft moans and whimpers like they were the finest wine, beginning to rub slow circles around your swollen clit.

“So needy,” he coos, your moans becoming more frequent, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Poor thing,” he teases with fake sympathy, “All that bossing people around has you so pent up.” You shake your head, too focused on the pleasure he was giving you to care about his dig at you, his finger slowly making its way inside of you. 

The stimulation had your hips bucking desperately against his hand, your cheeks flushed pink. “Mmph, Naoya-” you moan, sweet sounds muffled by his mouth, his tongue slipping past your lips. You accept his tongue into your mouth keenly, your mouth finding a steady rhythm.

"Already a mess over one finger, hmm?" He slips another finger into your sopping pussy, curling them upwards to massage that one spot that instantly has you seeing stars.

Your leaking hole sucking his fingers in greedily.

"Look at you taking two fingers now, so good for me."

He pulls away momentarily to watch your sweet reactions, your brows knitting together as that familiar tension forms within you. He rubs your clit a little faster with his thumb. His sweet encouragement pushes you over the edge, you cream on his fingers, hand gripping his shirt desperately for stability. 

“Thereeee you go, fuck- gripping my fingers so damn tight. You’d feel so good around my dick right now. I should just bend you over this table and fuck you right now," He thrusts his fingers faster again and again, overstimulating you. 

“Agnh- Fuck” you whine.

“You want everyone to see how greedily you suck in my dick, huh?” 

Your legs are shaking with ecstasy now. He presses soft kisses down your collarbone to your chest. Rubbing his fingers over your clothed nipple.

You bite back your moans. Still wary of anyone who could catch the two of you.

He withdraws his fingers. You whine at the loss of contact, watching Naoya bring his fingers to his mouth. Your eyes widen at the filthy sight. Naoya sucks his fingers clean, tasting your sweet cum. “Mm, god- you taste good,” he hums. 

You smack his shoulder.

“What if someone caught us? I don’t feel like being arrested for indecent exposure".

He rubs the shoulder you smacked, laughing.

“Relax, princess, I'll bail you out”. 

“Not funny!” you smile slightly, adjusting your panties beneath the desk.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you get up disheveled. And run off to the bathroom, locking the door.

5 minutes later, you're done making yourself look presentable again when you hear a knock at the door.

You grab a paper towel to dry off your damp hands. 

“Sorry that took so long-” A pair of hands shove you back into the bathroom without warning. Naoya.

“What the hell?” You look at him disgustedly.

“I wasn’t finished with you yet.” His eyes drag over you like some kind of starving beast.

He slams the door shut.

But when he shoves you against the door, and you feel the weight and heat of his chest pressing into yours, Nothing matters anymore.

The lock clicks shut loudly, so loud you flinch a bit at the sudden noise. All you hear is the soft silence of the empty building surrounding you.

The bathroom is pretty small, the scent of cleaner burning your nostrils, but mixing in with his expensive cologne.

"Thought I was done with this pretty pussy?" His eyes question you.

You swallow hard, heart racing in your chest. "Then finish what you started," you breathe out, your voice hitching when he leans in, his nose brushing against the shell of your ear. "I’m gonna fuck that bratty attitude straight outta you."

He lets out a huff of laughter, his hand sliding around to the small of your back to press you flush against him. "Have you screaming my name…” His lips ghost across yours, and you shudder.

A thick and heavy bulge presses against you, face heating up while you stare up at him. "As if…" You mumble, but when he presses himself into you more, your toes are curling into your heels.

"Wanna bet?"

You swallow thickly, "Yeah, you're not all that," you let out a small chuckle.

"Yeah," he rasps, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that makes your knees feel like they’re made of water. "Wanna see?"

Your heart feels like it skips a beat, breath heavy with desire. Your thighs are almost burning with how bad you want to give in right now, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip.

You nod, teeth sinking in deep enough to draw blood, when he suddenly slams your back against the door.

It's loud, and it makes you panic a bit, but then he kisses you hard.

His tongue is quick to force itself into your mouth, a small whine passing your lips when he fists your hair and forces your head upwards higher for him to kiss you more easily.

He grunts into your mouth, pulling back and leaving a sticky string of saliva between the two of you.

He lifts you up like it's nothing, pulling you up and dragging you in the direction of the sink.

Your feet scuff against the floors before lifting up, your skirt pulled upwards when your ass settles on the cool porcelain sink.

His hands are huge, calloused palms digging into your thighs as he hitches your skirt up even higher, the fabric bunching around your waist while he inches back into your space.

One hand wraps around your throat, a smirk on his lips as he stares at you. He’s never been the dominant type with you, but let’s just say you're not hating this right now.

"You made me come here just beggin' to be fucked, huh? You didn’t need help studying." 

“You just wanted me to fuck this pussy like the little boy toy I am to you, right?” he smirks, “I’ll go along with it.”

He murmurs, glancing down for a split second. You feel the reason why, the tip of his dick rubbing against the wet patch of your panties. "D’you know what a little slut you are?"

You whine when he presses against your twitching clit through the fabric, pressing in hard enough to give you the stimulation you've been craving.

His grip on your throat is just hard enough to make your vision blur at its edges, waves of black hitting you while he smirks at you. You feel his dick push against the side of your little panties, brushing against your slit.

It's so warm, and it pulses against you, jaw falling open when it nudges against your clit before sliding into your wetness, then back up again.

"Always telling me what to do-" he grunts quietly when he nestles the tip into your slick pussy, "You're quiet now. No more demands?"

You’re literally seeing stars, the combination of his hand around your throat and the blunt, slow pressure of him pushing in, making your head swim.

He doesn't even wait for a real answer, just hitches your legs higher over his shoulders and thrusts into you in one steady move. Your breath hitches, a choked gasp and moan coming out.

He starts a pace that makes your eyes roll back, one of your hands covering up your mouth in a desperate attempt not to be obvious or too loud.

He’s not even being quiet about it, the steady thud of the sink plumbing and mirror rattling against the wall with every heavy, rhythmic thrust.

He’s got his head buried in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing over your skin while he groans, a sound so deep you feel it vibrating in your own chest. "You're squeezing me so tight- fuck."

The rattling of the mirror against the wall is rhythmically mocking, a dull thud-thud-thud that matches the way your heart is slamming against your ribs.

His hand is still firm around your throat, thumb tracing the line of your jaw while he just demolishes you.

He leans in and kisses you deeply, both of your breaths loud enough to drown out any noises that come from outside. His tongue slides against yours, a smooth motion that somehow amplifies every slow drag of his thrusts.

His hand that's not on your throat reaches between your bodies, his thumb pressing into your clit hard while he starts fucking into you harder.

He pulls back from your mouth, his head burying into your neck while his strained breaths hit your sweat-slicked skin. His fingers are frantic on your clit.

The combination of him hitting just the right spot in you while he rubs your clit is enough to send you over the edge of an orgasm you hadn't realized was building up, your back arching into his chest.

You're fighting for your life, not to cry out, a shaky whine passing your lips as your breath sputters. Your cheeks are soaked with tears now, pussy fluttering around his cock in a way that has him bite down on your neck.

You whimper when his hands grip the fat of your hips, squeezing the flesh tight while he adjusts your pelvis to hit a different angle.

"Oh my god-" you moan out, your toes curling at the new spot he's beating against repeatedly.

His breath falters, hips stuttering repeatedly for a few more thrusts before he stills while at his deepest point in you, tip barely brushing into your cervix while he cums hard.

"So- fuckin' good," he groans, sliding down and sinking his teeth into your shoulder so hard you dig your nails into his back.

You can feel every hot spurt of his cum filling you, just enough to make your toes curl.

Both of you are sweaty messes, chests heaving and loud breaths echoing in the room while you struggle to calm your heartbeat down. You laugh quietly, a fucked out smile on your lips as he slowly pulls out and drops your legs.

Your eyes meet, and he swipes a stray tear from your face, hand resting on your face for a moment. You can see it in his eyes–a tenderness you don’t usually see.

"Guess you won that bet…" You whisper, “What do I owe ya?” You kiss the corner of his mouth.

He grunts, just grabbing a few paper towels to help clean you up. He helps you off the sink and adjusts your skirt for you, surprisingly gentle despite all that's happened.

"Nothing. Let’s just finish studying."

Your legs are shaky when he finally finishes helping you, your eyes glancing around the room nervously.

He fixes himself up, calloused hands fumbling with his belt. 

You scoff, but he presses a hot and heavy kiss against your lips before he unlocks the door, dragging you with him.

The room felt different afterward. Quieter. Content.

You sat there staring down at your notes. Pretending to read. Pretending to function. Pretending your heart wasn't trying to punch its way out of your chest.

Across from you, Naoya looked equally distracted. Which made you feel slightly better. At least you weren't suffering alone.

A comfortable silence settled between you. The kind that would've felt impossible a month ago.

Back then, every interaction between you ended in threats, insults, or blackmail.

Now...

Now you find yourself enjoying simply existing around him. Which was odd because a couple of weeks ago, you would have gladly smooshed his face under your shoe.

Once you started enjoying his company, you were basically doomed. You sighed dramatically.

Naoya looked up.

"What?"

You narrowed your eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're reading my thoughts." A slow grin spread across his face.

"You like me that much?"

Your textbook nearly went flying at his head.

"Shut up." 

His grin widened. 

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost detached from your skull. Naoya looked far too pleased with himself. As usual. But deep down your heart was about to explode. Your heartbeat had a heartbeat.

"Anyway."

You pointed your pencil at him.

"I have an important question."

His eyebrows lifted.

"The pool party." His expression immediately changed.

Just slightly. But you noticed. Because you noticed everything when it came to him now.

"What about it?"

"Toji invited me."

Naoya went completely still. Interesting. Very interesting. You continued watching him carefully. The tiny twitch of his jaw. The way his shoulders straightened. The way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

Oh.

That was jealousy. You'd know it anywhere. The realization almost made you smile. Almost.

"Did he?"

It wasn't a question.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.

"Yup." 

“Why are you jealous, Zenin?” you eye him mockingly.

He stares you dead in the face. “And if I were? What would you do about it?” He wraps an arm around your chair

Your stomach did a stupid little flip.

Naoya looked away first. Like he regretted saying it. Which only made it worse. Or better. Depending on how you looked at it.

"The party." He shrugged.

Trying and failing to appear casual.

"You should come." You stared at him.

You smiled. A small one. The genuine kind.

"I'll think about it." His eyes rolled immediately.

"You are impossible."

"You like that, though, no?"

His expression betrayed him for half a second. Then immediately recovered. Interesting.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

The next day, you found yourself standing inside a swimsuit store with Mai. Which somehow felt more stressful than finals week or emotional vulnerability.

"Why are bikinis so tiny?"

Mai held up a piece of fabric approximately the size of a napkin. You stared.

Then stared harder.

"The tinier the better." You snatch it out of her hand, toying with her.

"No thanks."

"You're boring."

"I'm practical." Mai huffed.

You ignored her.

The store was packed with bright colors, summer music, and college students preparing for beach trips and parties. Unfortunately for you—

Every bikini suddenly felt like it carried emotional significance. Because this wasn't just any party. Toji would be there. Naoya would be there. Possibly together. Which honestly sounded like the beginning of a disaster.

Two dressing rooms later, you found yourself staring at your reflection. The bikini looked good. Really good. Better than expected, actually. Which somehow only made you more nervous. The fabric hugged you in all the right places, boobs practically spilling out, which is exactly what you wanted.

Your phone buzzed.

You glanced down.

Toji had liked your latest Instagram story.

This was becoming a thing. A very dangerous thing. Your stomach fluttered. Then immediately afterward—

Your thoughts drifted back to Naoya. Again. Why did they always drift back to Naoya? You hated that.

"Are you alive in there?"

Mai knocked against the dressing room door.

"Barely."

"Show me."

You reluctantly stepped out.

Mai immediately grabbed your shoulders.

“Every man at that party is about to become significantly more annoying."

“Well, I don’t want just any man,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, and who did you have in mind?” she scoffs, crossing her arms.

You decide to be honest with her, well, partially honest. Mai is understanding enough.

“There’s this guy I've been seeing lately, we had a pretty messy start, though, but I don't know if I should tell him I'm starting to like him”. You sigh

“Well, you know what I always sayfuck it, worse he could say is no right?” she gestures. 

You consider her words for a moment. She's right, the worst he could say is no, and if he didn’t feel the same, at least you would know and could move on with your life.

You laughed despite yourself. For the first time all day, things felt light. 

“Mai, I think I’m going to confess.”

“So who’s the lucky guy?” She looks at you, bewildered.

You laugh, shutting the dressing room door.

“I’ll tell you Saturday!”

“This girl- ” she mutters to herself.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

Naoya's day was about to get significantly worse. He already woke up feeling crappy. His father calling him, telling him to meet him, just added to the crapiness. 

The drive to the Zenin estate was quiet.

The kind of quiet that gave your thoughts entirely too much room to wander. Which was unfortunate because Naoya's thoughts had been unbearable lately. Every red light became another excuse to think about you. Every stop sign became another reminder of your laugh.

Every empty stretch of road brought back the memory of you sitting across from him in the library, smiling as if he’d personally hung the moon.

It was irritating. Deeply irritating.

Because he knew exactly where this ended. Nowhere good.

Nothing good ever came from wanting people. He'd learned that lesson years ago.

The massive gates of the estate opened automatically as his car approached. His jaw tightened immediately.

Home.

The word felt wrong. This place had never really felt like home. More like a museum. Beautiful. Expensive. Cold.

The mansion towered over the property, every window spotless, every hedge perfectly trimmed. Everything looked immaculate.

Everything except the people living inside it. Naoya parked and climbed out of his car. His stomach already hurt.

That wasn't a good sign. Usually, when his father requested a private meeting, it meant one of two things:

Someone had embarrassed the family.

Or Naoya had.

Considering his life lately, it was most likely option two. A servant greeted him at the front door.

"Your father is waiting in his office."

Of course he was. Naoya resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

The office smelled like old money, leather, wood polish, and expensive whiskey.

Everything inside the room looked like it belonged in a movie about rich people with terrible relationships.

Which was fitting. His father sat behind an enormous mahogany desk, reviewing paperwork. He didn't look up immediately.

Another power move. Naoya remained standing. Finally, the older man spoke.

"Sit."

Naoya sat. The silence stretched.

One minute.

Two.

Three.

His father continued reading. Purposefully. Trying to make him uncomfortable.

Unfortunately for him, Naoya had spent his entire life being uncomfortable around this man.

The effect had worn off years ago. Finally, his father set the papers down.

"You've been distracted."

Straight to the point. Typical.

Naoya shrugged.

"Okay."

His father's jaw tightened.

"That's your response?"

"What do you want me to say?"

The older man leaned back.

"Let's start with your grades."

There it was. Naoya almost laughed.

Of course. Always the grades. Always performance. Always an achievement. Never anything else.

"You've dropped nearly twenty percent in three weeks."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

His father's expression darkened.

"You think this is funny?"

"No."

The lie came easily.

An entire emergency meeting over one C. Rich people really were exhausting. His father folded his hands.

"You've become careless."

"I have one C."

"You can’t afford to have one C."

Naoya looked away. Because he knew where this conversation was going. It always went to the same place. Disappointment.

"You've been sleeping around, partying like it’s nothing, thinking I won’t notice?"

There it was. Naoya's eyes snapped back to his father. A new direction.

The older man continued.

"You've been distracted by women for years."

Naoya scoffed.

"Is this seriously about my dating life?"

"It's about your lack of discipline."

The response came immediately. As rehearsed as everything else in this house. His father stood and moved toward the window.

"Do you know what your problem is?"

Naoya resisted the urge to answer. Because they both knew this wasn't actually a question.

"You want things you can't have. So when you can’t get them, you lash out."

The room suddenly felt smaller. His father continued staring out the window.

"You always have." Naoya's stomach dropped.

Because suddenly he knew exactly where this was going. And he really didn't want to hear it.

"Ever since you were a kid."

The older man turned around. Cold eyes. The kind that missed nothing.

"Don't think I haven't noticed."

Naoya felt every muscle in his body tense.

"Noticed what?"

His father laughed.

A humorless sound. 

The kind that made your skin crawl.

"The way you look at your Vivienne, like you're some kind of puppy."

Silence. Absolute silence. Naoya forgot how to breathe.

For a second, he genuinely couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't speak. His worst fear lay bare in a single sentence. Noticed. His father had noticed.

How long?

How many years?

Had everyone noticed?

Jinishi?

Vivienne?

The entire family?

Humiliation crashed into him like a truck.

"Pathetic."

“Son, you must let go of whatever ridiculous thing you're holding onto for the sake of the family.”

He goes on, “Our image is everything, the press would devour a scandal like that. Let her go, stop sleeping around and focus on your studies, or I promise you you’ll regret it”.

“What’s that new distraction name, hmm?” his father rolled your name on his tongue like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Your name hit harder than any slap. Naoya looked away immediately.

“Remove her from your life and focus on your studies, or I will.”

Because suddenly he felt sixteen again. 

Naoya clenched his jaw.

Something snapped.

"What do you want from me? To be your perfect little trophy?"

The question came out louder than intended. His father looked surprised.

Good.

“I’m not gonna be your little bitch anymore, walking around like some wind-up toy existing only to please you."

Naoya stood, standing face to face with his father. “I’m done”

His father slapped him. Hard. The impact snapped his head sideways. The room went silent. Naoya froze.

A familiar sting bloomed across his cheek.

His father lowered his hand.

"Watch your tongue," he spits.

“You had better listen to me, boy, don’t do something you’ll regret”.

There it was. Feel less. Be less.

Naoya laughed. A short. Broken sound. Then he grabbed his keys and walked out. For once, his father didn't stop him.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

The drive back to campus felt endless. His cheek throbbed. His head hurt. Everything hurt.

Naoya was unraveling. Piece by piece. He climbed the stairs. Unlocked his room. Collapsed onto his bed. And stared at the ceiling.

Alone. For a long time.

Then—

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Naoya squeezed his eyes shut. Because somehow… Before he even opened the door, He already knew exactly who it was.

For a second, Naoya considered pretending he wasn't there.

The knocking came again. More impatient this time. He already knew who it was.

Nobody else knocked like that.

Everybody else texted.

You knocked like the police.

Naoya dragged a hand down his face before forcing himself off the bed. The mirror mounted beside his closet caught him halfway across the room.

He looked awful.

The side of his face had already begun to bruise. His lip was split. There was a dark mark blooming beneath his jaw where his father had grabbed him.

Great.

Exactly what he needed. Another reminder. The knocking continued.

"Jesus Christ."

He yanked the door open. And immediately regretted it.

Because the second your eyes landed on him, your expression changed.

The playful smile you'd been wearing disappeared instantly.

"What happened to your face?"

Naoya looked away.

"Nothing."

Your eyebrows shot up.

"Nothing?"

"Yep."

"Naoya."

"I'm fine."

You stared at him.

Then stared harder.

"No, you're not. Did you get into a fight or something?"

The concern in your voice made something uncomfortable twist in his chest. Why did you have to look at him like that? Like you actually cared. Like seeing him hurt bothered you.

It would've been easier if you'd laughed. Made fun of him. Threatened him. Anything except this. Because concern was dangerous. Concern made him want things.

And wanting things never ended well.

You stepped closer.

"Who did this?"

"No one."

"That's clearly not true."

He sighed.

"Why are you here?"

The question came out sharper than intended. You blinked. Caught off guard.

Then your expression softened slightly.

"I wanted to see you."

That made everything worse. Immediately worse. Because for a split second—

A tiny split second—

He felt happy. And that terrified him. So he shut it down.

Fast.

"You saw me."

The words came out colder than intended.

"Congratulations."

Your smile faded.

Naoya immediately hated himself. But he couldn't stop. Not now. Not after today. Not after everything his father had said.

You crossed your arms.

"What is your problem?"

"Nothing."

"Stop saying that."

Silence. The room suddenly felt too small. You looked around awkwardly before sitting on the edge of his bed.

The familiarity of the gesture hit him harder than expected.

A few weeks ago, you would've never sat in his room like this.

Now you looked completely comfortable. Like you belonged here. That thought alone made his chest ache.

Because somewhere along the way...

He'd started liking having you around. Far too much. You looked up at him. And for a moment, neither of you spoke.

The sunset streamed through the window behind you, painting everything gold. The room felt oddly peaceful.

You took a breath. A deep one. Like you were gathering courage.

"I know things have been kind of strange between us. But you can talk to me about anything."

Naoya nods, “Thanks.”

“Well, uh, I’m sure you’d rather not talk about it right now, so I should probably just go, give you your space.” You nervously got up, grabbing your purse.

“Wait.” he grabs your wrist. “It seemed like there was something you wanted to tell me.” his fingers trace over your wrists.

“I mean, yeah, but it can wait till you're feeling better,” you smiled awkwardly.

“It’s ok, just say what you have to say.” Naoya felt his anxiety building in his chest like never before.

Why did you need to tell him? Maybe you should just keep it to yourself and continue as you have.

You laughed nervously. A sound he'd never heard from you before. And somehow that hurt. Because you looked scared.

Scared of him.

Or maybe scared of what you were about to say.

"I know we got off on a really weird foot."

Understatement of the century.

You smiled weakly.

"But..." Your voice faltered. Then continued.

"But I think I'm starting to develop feelings for you, and I know it’s too soon, and out of nowhere, but I thought if I never told you now, I would just end up not saying anything, so it’s best if I just tell you and see if you feel the same, " you continue babbling on and on, nervous as ever. When you finally shut your mouth.

There was nothing but silence.

You laugh again, “It’s ok if you don’t like me back, it’s just better to know right?”

The words settled between you.

Naoya felt his heart stop. Because this— This was everything he'd secretly wanted to hear.

And somehow it made him feel sick. You continued before he could respond.

"I don't really know when it happened."

You laughed softly.

"Maybe i’m wrong you know your still in love with Vivienne I'm sure, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that”

Another smile.

Smaller this time.

“But I just wanted to let you know.”

The irony almost made him laugh. If only you knew. If only you knew how he hadn’t thought about Vivienne since that day.

You looked up at him. Hope flickering across your face. Hope. That was the problem. Because people who hoped always got disappointed.

Naoya knew that better than anyone.

And suddenly—

He couldn't do it.

Couldn't let you look at him like that. Couldn't let you build him into something better than he was. Couldn't let himself believe somebody might actually choose him.

Not after years of proving to everyone that he would only disappoint them.

So he did what he always did.

The only thing he knew how to do.

He pushed. Hard.

"You have feelings for me?"

The words came out sharp. You blinked. Confused.

The hope on your face flickered. Naoya forced a laugh. A cruel one. The kind that made even himself flinch.

"Don't get it twisted."

Your expression immediately changed. The room felt colder.

"The only reason we're even here is because you're blackmailing me."

You stared. Silent. He hated that. Hated how hurt you already looked.

“I know and about that- I was going to tell you sooner-” 

He cuts you off, because stopping now would've been worse. Would've meant admitting the truth. And the truth was terrifying. He might just be in love with you.

"You seriously thought I would make you my girlfriend or something? You were just supposed to keep my bed warm and my dick wet.”

The second the words left his mouth— Regret.

Immediately, your face fell. Completely. Like he'd physically hit you.

Naoya wanted to take it back. Immediately. But fear. Self-destruction. All the usual monsters kept his mouth shut.

"I don't feel anything for you."

The slap came so fast he barely saw it.

Crack.

The room went silent. Your hand trembled. His cheek burned.

He deserved it, he knew he did.

You stared at him like you didn't recognize him anymore.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

The question shattered something inside him. Because he didn't have an answer. Not one you'd accept anyway. So he looked away.

Coward.

"That's fine."

His voice sounded hollow.

"If you hate me." A broken sound.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Your eyes filled with tears immediately. And somehow that hurt more than anything his father had done.

"You know what?"

"Don't ever talk to me again."

Naoya closed his eyes. Every word landed like a knife. Good. Maybe if you hated him, this would be easier.

"Seriously."

Your voice shook.

"I can't believe I actually cared about you."

God. Stop. Please stop. He couldn't take much more of this. But you weren't done.

"You know what the worst part is?"

You laughed again. Bitter.

"I actually thought you cared, too."

Naoya's chest physically hurt. But it didn't matter. Because he'd already ruined it.

You headed for the door. Then stopped. One hand resting against the handle.

"And for the record."

Naoya looked up. Your eyes were shining. Angry. Hurt. Beautiful.

"I deleted that video the day after I recorded it."

Everything stopped.

But you were already opening the door.

"I never really had anything on you."

His stomach dropped. The room tilted.

"What?"

You laughed bitterly.

"Congratulations."

Then you were gone. The door slammed. And for the first time in a very long time, Naoya felt completely alone.

He stared at the closed door. Waiting for it to open again. Waiting for you to come back. The realization settled in.

He'd gotten exactly what he wanted.

You were gone.

So why did it feel like he'd just lost everything?

°❀.ೃ࿔*

You didn't cry until you got to your car. And even then, you tried not to. You really did.

The second the driver's side door shut, you gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.

Breathe. Just breathe.

You weren't going to cry over a man. Especially not Naoya Zenin. You'd survived worse than some asshole saying something cruel. You'd survived plenty of cruel things.

So why did this hurt so much?

Your vision blurred.

"Oh, my God."

The first tear slipped free. Suddenly, you were crying so hard you couldn't see. Your chest physically ached. As if somebody had reached inside and squeezed your heart until it bruised.

Because the worst part wasn't what he'd said. It was that you'd believed him. You'd actually believed that every laugh, every late-night text, every vulnerable conversation had meant nothing.

That you were just another girl. Another body. Another checkmark.

You wiped your face aggressively.

He's an asshole, you knew that, and still let him creep into your heart.

Well, that doesn’t matter anymore because you are sure as hell done with him, no matter how much your heart aches.

By the time you pulled into your apartment parking lot, your makeup was ruined. Your head hurt. And your chest felt hollow. You barely remembered making it upstairs.

A knock sounded against your bedroom door. You ignored it. Another knock.

Then the door opened anyway.

Vicki froze.

"Oh, my God."

You immediately rolled over and buried your face again.

"Go away."

"Absolutely not."

The mattress dipped beneath her weight. A second later, a hand settled gently against your back.

"What happened?"

You laughed.

A terrible sound.

"Everything."

Vicki's expression immediately shifted.

"Tell me."

You did. Everything.

By the end, Vicki looked ready to commit a felony.

"I'm keying his car."

Despite yourself— A laugh escaped. A small broken one, but it was still a laugh.

Vicki pointed dramatically.

"I'm serious."

"You don't even know what car he drives."

"I'll figure it out." You laughed again. A little harder this time. The tension in the room loosened slightly.

Vicki sat back down. Then unexpectedly pulled you into a hug. You immediately started crying again.

"God damn it."

"I know."

"He sucks."

"I know."

"You deserve better."

That one hit harder. Because right now? You weren't sure. The hug lasted longer than either of you expected. And for a little while, things felt okay.

Hours later, after Vicki finally left, you sat alone in your room. The sadness had faded. Not disappeared. Just evolved. Into anger.

Anger was familiar. Anger made sense. Heartbreak didn't.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Red eyes. Smudged makeup.

You grabbed your phone. Opened Instagram. Then immediately found yourself staring at Toji's profile.

You had always been self-destructive when you were angry, but right now you didn’t care. All you knew was that you wanted Naoya to hurt the same way he had hurt you.

You didn't need a video to ruin Naoya's day. Maybe there were other ways. Petty ways. Creative ways.

Ways that would make him absolutely miserable. 

You had an idea. A terrible one. Which meant it was probably perfect. A text notification appeared.

Toji.

Your stomach fluttered.

For the first time all evening.

Toji: Don't leave me hanging, doll. Will I see you Saturday or not?

You stared.

Then laughed. You opened your camera roll.

Scrolled. Found the bikini picture from earlier. Red straps that hugged your figure in all the right ways.

Then sent it.

You: What do you think?

Three dots appeared immediately. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Your pulse quickened.

Finally—

Toji: Princess.

Toji: If you wear that, I might not be able to control myself.

A smile tugged at your lips.

You: And if I don’t want you to?

Toji: Then I’d be happy to oblige

You stared at the screen.

A grin tugged at your lips because you were planning something. And that was always far more dangerous.

Previous chapter Series masterlist Next chapter [A/N] Another one, thank you, how could he!!! What a lil shit but dw we gon make him go through it. I'm talking maximum yearning.😉

[SUMMARY] - After an accidental bathroom mishap leaves both roommates mortified, an awkward silence settles over the apartment. While Choso desperately avoids you, his attempts only make your frustration grow. With Tiffany's advice echoing in your head and a mischievous plan taking shape, you decide it's time to force a confrontation, whether Choso is ready for it or not.

[TAGS] - MDNI 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. dom! reader. oral fem receiving. hand job. exhibitionism. nipple play. orgasm denial. Enemies to Lovers. Forced proximity. roommates to lovers. Toxicity. mean reader. humiliation. loser choso. bullying. tags will be updated as the story progresses. (wc 5.2k)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

♡ No More Running ♡

Great, just great, everything was going well with Choso until you forgot to lock the damn bathroom door and flashed him your tits.

You quickly throw on your robe and walk out into the hallway and stand right in front of Choso’s room.

His door is shut; you hesitate for a moment, lost as to what you should possibly say in this situation.

You knock.

No answer.

You knock again.

“Hey Choso, can we talk for a second?”

“Uh… I can’t right now; I kind of have an assignment to work on.”

Awkward.

“Um, ok no worries, just wanted to apologize for earlier; I forgot to lock the door.”

More silence.

“No worries, it was totally my fault; I should have knocked.”

Well, what now?

“Right, ok thanks. Well, good luck studying.”

No response.

You pause for a minute, hoping you will get some kind of answer back.

But you don’t, so you just walk back to your room.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

“Fuck.”

Choso couldn’t stop replaying it in his head.

Over and Over.

You were beautiful, every inch of you. Raw and exposed, it ignited some kind of desire he had never felt before in his life.

He had never slammed a door so fast.

He couldn’t help but look in his bedroom mirror and see his whole face was a pinkish hue.

‘How childish.’

It’s just a body.

Meat and bones.

Why the hell was he getting so worked up?

The tent in his pants only grew bigger the more he thought about it.

Your messy hair, the way your skin glistened in the light, the way your breasts sat perfectly on display for him, waiting to be ravished.

“What the fuck is wrong with me!”

He felt like some kind of sick pervert. Why was he like this, especially over you, the woman who has made his life a living hell for the past two years?

His hands couldn’t help but travel to his growing erection; his body was yearning for some sort of release, and he was about to grant it.

Knock Knock

“Hey Choso, can we talk for a second?”

‘Fuck, how long has she been outside my door?’

He quickly shuffled through his room, trying to make himself busy like he wasn’t just planning to rub one out after seeing his extremely hot, but mean roommate naked.

“Uh… I can’t right now; I kind of have an assignment to work on.”

‘Hopefully she won’t come in; she can’t see me like this.’

She had already seen every embarrassing side to Choso that there was; he didn’t want to give her another reason to make fun of him.

“Um, ok no worries, just wanted to apologize for earlier; I forgot to lock the door.”

He knew she didn’t do it on purpose; hell, he was honestly kind of glad she didn’t lock the door.

But he would never admit that.

“No worries, it was totally my fault, I should have knocked.”

Choso’s anxiety-ridden body couldn’t take this tension any longer.

In hopes of easing his mind and his boner, he throws on his headphones and blasts his favorite rock songs.

The sound of Nirvana slowly fills his head, hoping to blur the last 30 minutes of his life away.

‘Maybe I should take a cold shower.’

“Right ok thanks, well good luck studying.”

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

The first thing you did after you put some clothes on was call Tiffany.

“Tiff I’m fucked, I’m sooo fucked.”

“He got you an STD!”

“WHAT no? We didn’t even sleep together.”

“Well what could be worse than an STD?”

“Forgetting to lock the bathroom door and accidentally flashing him your tits?”

“Oooh ok that’s pretty bad.”

“It was so fucking embarrassing, Tiff, I want to die!”

I mean you were never really embarrassed about your body; you loved your body in a kind of narcissistic way. It was just more embarrassing that the guy you had been pushing around for a year or so saw you naked and slammed the door in your face.

“Wait, so he wouldn’t even come out of his room?”

“No, I just stood there like a fucking idiot!”

“Yikes, girl”

“Not helping, what do I do?”

“Move to Thailand”

“Real solutions, please”

“That is a real solution?”

“It’s so awkward now, like what do I even say?”

“Make it even tell him to take off his clothes too.”

“TIFFANY!”

You roll your eyes at the evil hackle you hear through the screen.

“Omg relax it’s not the end of the world, shoot he probably liked it.”

That catches your attention.

“You think so?”

“Hell yeah, YOU’RE HOT AS FUCK.”

“Well duh.”

“Exactly, so why are you overthinking if anything you blessed his eyes.”

“Ugh, you’re so right. I have nothing to be ashamed of; if anything, it’s his fault.”

“And this is why you need me.”

You really roll your eyes at that one.

After a while of chatting about anything and everything, you end the call with Tiffany. You lay flat on your back and stare endlessly into your ceiling.

You hope there could be some kind of answer there; obviously not.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

It had been three days since the incident with Choso, and you hadn’t spoken since, or seen him for that matter.

Was he avoiding you?

Why?

It’s more embarrassing for you than it is for him. How are you supposed to live with someone you never see?

You were lost.

Maybe you should just wait it out? He’ll talk to you eventually…

You put your thoughts aside and get ready for the day. A mini denim skirt hugged your curves in all the right ways; a halter top helped your breasts sit perfectly on display. You made sure to add extra body glitter to make your skin glisten.

You threw on some red bottoms and made your way to the door.

Just as you left your room, you noticed Choso making his way to the front door as well.

This was the perfect opportunity, you thought, to make things less awkward.

“Hey Choso-”

SLAM

He slammed the door faster than you could speak.

“What the hell?”

Now he was getting on your nerves. You get you made a mistake, but he won’t even talk to you or look at you; it was getting out of hand, you had to put your foot down.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

Choso rubs his hand over his face.

“Idiot.”

In truth, he can’t even look at you without getting hard. The sound of your voice is enough to get him going.

He didn’t know why this was happening; he’s not some pre-pubescent boy. For fucks sake, he didn’t even like you; you were mean and cruel very cruel and very, very beautiful.

“Fuck me.”

He hated that he was attracted to you; you tormented him for years, made him feel less than, worthless.

Every waking minute in your presence was an embarrassment ritual.

And that’s why it made him so much angrier when he would catch himself thinking of you when you weren’t around.

Why couldn’t he stop himself, even though he should hate you?

He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to yours whenever you were in a room. He couldn’t stop his mind from thinking thoughts of you.

This feeling, unknown to him, consumed him whenever you were close.

He hated it.

But in truth, the real reason he hated it was because he knew you would never feel the same way.

And he hated that more.

He put his car in reverse and drove out of the parking lot.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

Later that day, you were in the library, not studying but plotting. Plotting how the hell you were going to get back at Choso for ignoring you.

Ideas were practically flowing into your little evil mind.

And you knew exactly what you were going to inflict on him.

Tiffany plopped down in the chair across from you with two iced coffees in her hands.

“You looked way too evil from across the library.”

Without looking up from your notebook, you accepted the drink.

“Thanks.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“…Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Which is somehow scarier.”

You finally looked up, resting your chin in your hand.

“I have a plan.”

Tiffany groaned dramatically.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

She took a long sip of her coffee.

“Last time you had ‘a plan,’ you convinced a professor to extend your deadline by crying.”

You leaned forward conspiratorially.

“Choso has been avoiding me.”

“I gathered.”

“He literally slammed the front door in my face this morning.”

“Ouch.”

“So…”

Your grin slowly spread.

“I’m going to make him regret it.”

Tiffany blinked.

“…What does that mean?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because whatever you’re planning is probably a crime.”

“It isn’t.”

“Yet.”

You rolled your eyes.

Tiffany stared at you for a long moment before setting her drink down.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Why does it bother you so much?”

You frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve had people ignore you before.”

“So?”

“You’ve never cared.”

She leaned back in her chair.

“You keep saying you’re embarrassed.”

“I am.”

“But every time you talk about this, you spend more time talking about why he’s acting weird than what happened.”

You looked away.

“…He’s making things awkward.”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“He’s awkward.”

You frowned.

“There is a difference.”

You picked absentmindedly at the corner of your notebook.

“He won’t even look at me.”

“He barely looked at people before.”

“…”

“You’ve known him for, what? Two years?”

You nodded.

“Has he ever yelled at you?”

“No.”

“Called you names?”

“No.”

“Been rude to you?”

“…No.”

“So why are you assuming he’s avoiding you because he’s angry?”

You hesitated.

“I don’t know…”

She smiled knowingly.

“Maybe he’s just embarrassed.”

“More embarrassed than me?”

“You don’t have the capability to be embarrassed.”

“…True.”

“He walked in on you.”

“…Also true.”

“You got to keep your dignity.”

“I did not.”

“He got a front-row seat to something he definitely wasn’t expecting.”

You couldn’t help letting out a small laugh.

“When you put it like that…”

“I’m serious.”

She pointed at you with her straw.

“You think he’s hiding because he hates you.”

“And?”

“I think he’s hiding because he’s mortified.”

You leaned back in your chair.

“…You really think so?”

“I do.”

Silence settled between you.

For the first time in three days, the knot in your chest loosened ever so slightly.

Maybe…

Maybe Choso wasn’t avoiding you because he couldn’t stand being around you. Maybe he simply didn’t know how to face you.

“…Still.”

A mischievous smile slowly returned to your face.

“I’m going to make him talk to me.”

Tiffany sighed so loudly that a few students glanced over.

“I knew we were making zero progress.”

You laughed.

“What?”

“Just…”

She pointed a warning finger at you.

“Promise me whatever you’re planning won’t traumatize the poor man.”

You smiled innocently.

“I make no promises.”

Tiffany dropped her head onto the table with a dramatic groan.

“Lord… save Choso Kamo.”

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

His car was here, perfect.

You pulled into your driveway, practically jumping out of the vehicle. You were on a mission, a mission to make Choso Kamo feel all the things you had felt in the past three days.

As soon as you opened the door, you kicked your shoes off and threw your bag on the counter.

Your path was clear; you headed straight for Choso’s room.

You didn’t bother knocking; he didn’t bother why should you?

As soon as you barged that door wide open, you saw him lying on his bed with headphones on his head, reading some book. He was facing away from you, so he didn’t even notice you standing in the doorway.

You walked up to him and practically smacked the headphones off his head.

“What the hell?”

“We need to talk. Now.”

“About what?”

“Don’t play dumb, you’re a smart guy.”

You grab his book from his hands and slam it shut, throwing it onto his desk.

“Living room, now.”

You don’t even wait for his response before you walk out his bedroom door into the living room.

You sit on your couch, one leg over the other. He practically scurries out like some kind of rat, with his hands in his pockets, not even bothering to sit.

You motion with your eyes for him to sit, and he does.

“What do you want to talk about?”

The audacity of this man to keep playing dumb.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’ve seen me naked, and are now avoiding me like the plague.”

He swallows at that.

“Still nothing to say?”

His quietness is making you even angrier.

“I’m sorry, it was an accident, so let’s just forget it happened.”

You eternally roll your eyes at that one.

“Oh, but I don’t want to.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to forget it happened.”

“I’m sorry, why?”

“Because I feel super embarrassed that my roommate saw me naked.”

“As I said, it was an accident; it won’t happen again.”

“Even if it was, it left poor old me hurt, so you are gonna have to do something about that.”

“Like what?”

“Strip.”

His eyes practically bulge out of his skull at that.

“WHAT!”

“You heard me strip; let’s make it even so both of us are embarrassed.”

He starts stuttering like he was caught in an arctic snowstorm.

“I- I don’t think that- t a good idea.”

“Oh, but I do, and you’re going to do it, or by tomorrow morning the entire student body is going to know what a perverted peeping tom you are.”

He looks almost scared now.

“Why would you do that?”

“As I said, I’m feeling hurt, so either comply or I’ll spill my guts to the school’s gossip page.”

“Seriously, what is wrong with you? I’m not stripping.”

You stare him dead in his face.

And reach over to pull out your phone. That halts him.

“WAIT, WAIT OK!”

He throws his head back in frustration.

“I’ll do it.”

You can’t help the absolutely evil grin that spreads across your face.

“Take off your clothes.”

The unfocused gaze is gone now. The way his attention snaps to you so quickly almost makes you giggle, but you keep your expression relaxed.

Raising a brow at him when he hesitates seems to do the trick.

Swiftly, Choso grabs hold of the back of his loose black shirt, pulling it over his head and off his body.

Holding the fabric in his hand, he looks a little lost on what to do with it, so you just tell him to drop it.

Now shirtless, he looks at you as if waiting for further guidance. Choosing not to comment on it and leave him hanging for a moment, your eyes roam his upper body. The veins in his forearms are a little more prominent than usual, due to him being so tense.

His big hands are clenched in a fist, holding onto the material of his pants. The broad expanse of his chest moves up and down in a way that pulls at the corners of your mouth. He is trying to not seem as affected as he is, but his stuttering, deep breaths betray him.

Cute.

“When I told you to undress, I meant that you should take off your pants too, you know?” you tell him, your tone laced with nonchalance, as you shamelessly focus on where the deep V of his abdomen is hidden from your sight by the fabric of his pants.

With hesitant movements, he unbuttons his pants, pulling down the zipper and pushing them down.

Finally, your sight is not obstructed anymore, and you can appreciate the way his lower abdomen melts into where he is wearing what you gave to him this morning.

With a few more movements, he steps out of the pants and pushes them to the side with his foot.

Standing before you now, in nothing but underwear, he uses his hands to cover himself.

You motion for him to come closer to you.

He obeys.

Tentatively, he finally looks down again, and the way your gaze rests on the flimsy fabric that covers him has his cock jumping against the fabric.

“Oh?”

He knew you wouldn’t let that go uncommented.

“Seems like you don’t dislike this as much as you pretended to at first, huh?” you wonder out loud.

His underwear is a tight fit, and it’s easy to tell that he is painfully hard underneath it.

Reaching out once more, you rub your thumb over the fabric and his hips jolt backward and away from your touch. You shoot him an unimpressed look.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you out, even after you were oh so cruel to me.”

You say in a sickeningly sweet voice.

You rub your thumb over it once more and feel him slightly twitch underneath. His cock is hard and straining against the fabric.

“Ugh- fuck.”

He looks like he can barely hold himself together.

This brings you a perverse amount of joy.

You don’t know what demon has taken possession of you, but you can’t stop yourself; he’s just too fun to mess with.

And this was making you way too horny.

Moving forward, you press a kiss on top of it, and Choso groans, fighting the urge to put his hand on your head and push you away. He knows it won’t get him anywhere.

Pressing your tongue up against the fabric, you lay it flat as you lick along where his cock is hidden beneath the fabric until you reach the spot where his tip presses up against the underwear. You press a kiss against the spot and Choso’s breath hitches. There is a damp spot right where your lips meet the fabric.

“Good boy,” you mumble, and his hips twitch. Teasingly, you rub the skin under the soft fabric, back and forth.

“You look so pretty,” you mumble, resting your chin against his abdomen, right above his underwear, as you look up at him.

You can tell he is embarrassed.

His eyebrows are drawn together, his lips are twitching as if he wants to say something, and his cheeks are dusted with a ruddy blush.

Satisfied, you leave a kiss against his toned stomach. Taking a deep breath, you speak up again, “You’ve been so mean to me these past three days, and you have the audacity to get a boner?”

“Were you thinking about me naked again… hmm?”

He throws his head back, biting his lip so hard it might draw blood.

His voice is shaky when he replies, “N-no. I wasn’t.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me for three days? Is my naked body that ugly?” you question, your thumb circling over the skin of his hips.

“No, it’s not.”

Silence. He does not break eye contact, and the color flushes up to his ears. “Is that why you’re hard right now? You secretly really like my body, huh? You’ve been touching yourself thinking about it?”

“I- I haven’t.”

Your hand moves to palm his bulge, grabbing a hold of his cock through the underwear and moving your hand up and down, slowly.

The man reacts like a startled animal.

Choso’s hand grabs your wrist, but he knows better than to pull you away.

You stand abruptly, startling the timid man.

You quickly press your lips against his in a sweet kiss. He does not hesitate to reciprocate the affection, his lips pressing into yours with urgency, need, and desperation. When you finally separate, his lips are a little damp, and you smile.

Your fingers are quick as they hook into the band of his boxers, pulling them down with swiftness. Throwing them to the side, one of your hands moves to rest against his cheek as you pull him closer once more. The other slides down his torso to take hold of his cock. Sliding your hand up and down, you hum a happy sound against his lips when they feel the precum breeding at his tip.

“Feels good, hm?” you mutter slowly, and he whines.

“It’s t-torture.”

Choso gasps out, words jumbled by the way your hand wraps around his shaft with a firm grip. You start to jerk him off with a steady pace, delighting in the sounds he makes.

“Look at you,” you press a kiss against the side of his throat, “So ready to complain, yet you didn’t even try to deny me; you must really be a pervert.”

“There’s no use in doing that - haah - it’s not like you really gave me a choice anyway,” Choso explains, his breathy voice and his words sending excitement down into your lower tummy.

With a satisfied sigh, you smile. “You’re right. There is no use.”

Picking up the pace, you move your hand up and down his length, your grip tight enough to almost hurt a little. His hips thrust up into your motions, as he tries to get the most out of it. 

A string of moans and gasps leaves his lips, and you readily swallow them by kissing him fervently once more, your tongue moving against his. Choso breathes hard, and his fingers dig into the flesh of your waist as he pleads, “P-please, I’m so close.”

You smile, remove your hand, and speak, “No.”

His shoulders slump forward, and you clear your throat. Choso straightens up again. You move away from him, and he is tempted to reach out for you. His chest rises and falls quickly, and his pupils are blown wide.

Watching you walk away into your bedroom, he only moves when you wave him over. Swiftly, he joins you on the bed, a bit unsure on how to proceed. You pat the bed, telling him, “Rest your back against the headboard and sit here for me.”

He does as you say.

Smiling sweetly, you take off your pants, leaving yourself only in your underwear. Straddling his thigh, he feels the damp patch on your panties against his skin, and it causes a jittery breath to leave his lips.

Moving the other hand to wrap around his girth once more, you jerk him off while you grind yourself against his thigh to match the rhythm of your hand, breathless at the feeling. Searching for his eyes, you find him staring at you, unable to take his eyes away despite how hazy his vision seems to be.

Leaning forward, you bury your face against his throat, continuing to move against him and allowing yourself to moan against his skin. It doesn’t take long for his sounds to pick up in volume, the combined stimulations pushing him to his limit quicker than anything he has ever experienced.

Tears build up in his eyes. He feels overstimulated and sensitive, but it also feels terribly good, and he doesn’t want it to stop. He feels like he might die if he does not get any release.

“P-Please,” comes his plea. A broken sob of an attempt to beg, but you take it.

“Look at you… so needy.”

You grab hold of his face, pulling him closer again for one more kiss. Your hands make swift work of his up-do, releasing his hair from the elastic ties so that it can fall around his face freely. Tracing circles against his cheek with your thumb, you let go of him and lift yourself away from his body.

Lying down on the bed, you playfully spread your legs, showing off just how much you’ve soaked through the fabric of your panties. “Come here and help me out,” you tempt him, and Choso doesn’t wait for you to tell him twice.

Crawling over to where you are lying, he leans down onto his elbows to lay gentle kisses against the skin of your inner thighs. You sigh, draping a leg over his shoulder, and pulling him closer. Shifting closer, he bumps his nose against the material of your panties before pressing himself against you fully and breathing in deeply.

The scent of your arousal causes warmth to erupt in his lower back. It’s intoxicating, and he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, hurrying to take them off. Sliding them down your legs, he pushes them off the bed before diving back between your thighs.

Not wasting any time, to not leave you waiting any longer, he immediately moves to push his tongue between your lower lips, working his way up to your clit. Gathering your slick on his tongue, he uses it to spread it over your clit with his tongue, before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

Your hands move to his hair, curling your fingers into the dark strands and pulling him closer. You didn’t cum yet, but grinding on his thigh got you pretty close earlier. You’re wet, and your clit is swollen, eager to embrace the attention it’s currently getting.

His tongue is eager. Whenever he eases up on the suction, he circles your clit with his tongue before switching up on the motions and flicking over it, trying out different patterns of movement. Reaching between your legs, two of his fingers slowly enter you, scissoring you open at a slow but steady pace.

Moans start spilling from your lips, your hips moving to grind against his face, and Choso’s other hand moves to hold your lower back, supporting you while you do so. 

His hips subconsciously move back and forth as he rubs his cock against the soft sheets, hoping to ease his own need a little. The way your walls cling onto his fingers and how wet and warm you feel makes him think too far ahead. He wonders how your wetness would coat him, how you would squeeze around him.

Speeding up his pace, he buries his mouth against you while he thrusts his fingers inside and out. It doesn’t take too long until you come undone for him, chanting his name while your hips shake in his hold.

He’s in ecstasy.

The way your fingers pull at his hair makes his scalp burn a little, but it’s oddly pleasant. When he comes up to press his lips against your tummy, he leaves a trail of your wetness on your skin.

“So pretty… You look so pretty when you cum. Thank you,” he mumbles, pressing kiss after kiss against your skin.

Choso lifts the fabric of your shirt, pushing it up to expose your chest, and he inwardly celebrates when he realizes that you’re not wearing anything underneath. Lifting his head, he circles your nipple with his tongue before sucking on it lightly. You shiver and offer him the softest breath of a moan, arching your back a little and leaning up into his touch.

“Choso…,” you mumble, your fingers finding their way into his hair again while he showers your chest with kisses and little love bites.

“Mhm?” comes the barely coherent reply. Pulling his head back and off of you by his hair, you make him look at you.

“Fuck me now.”

It’s a simple command. But his eyes are suddenly a lot more alert, the haziness gone.

“Just like this? Do you want to-”

“Yeah, just like this. There is a condom in my nightstand.”

He wastes no time clumsily fumbling through your nightstand; he finally finds one. His shaky hands can barely tear the plastic open, but when he does, he slides it over his length.

You interrupt, wrapping your legs around his middle and pulling him closer to your body.

Choso, willing to do anything to get into your good graces again. Because the alternative would be much scarier. And he can’t even sit here and deny how much he wants this.

When he lowers himself down onto his elbows on top of you once more, he is close to your face again. He angles his hips, using one hand to grab hold of his cock and push himself inside. Once the tip is in, he pushes in slowly, inch by painstaking inch, until you have enough and wrap your legs around him to pull him in fully.

His hips bump against yours, and his fingers dig into the sheets right next to your head. The way he fills you up causes your fingers to dig into his back and a choked gasp frees itself from your throat.

Pushing the heels of your feet into his lower back, you urge him to fuck you, and he obliges. Drawing his hips back, he snaps them forward again, burying himself inside of you. Setting a pleasurable pace, you feel his balls smack against the skin of your behind as he thrusts in and out of you repeatedly.

You’re both wound up, and the tension from the first half of the day is still tingling in your veins. Choso pushes himself up onto his hands, looking down at you as your breasts bounce up and down against the bed with the movements of his hips. A small smile graces his lips at the sight, your expression pulled into one filled with ecstasy.

The dynamic feels as if it has shifted, and with the way he is filling you up, you feel like you’re close to coming undone. Moving your hand up, you reach for him, wrapping your hand around his throat. Pressing down on the sides of it, you breathe hard at the way his hips lose their rhythm, and his thrusts turn more desperate. His mouth falls open and choked moans leave him freely now.

Finally, after a few more thrusts, he spills himself inside of you. You can feel his cock twitching inside with his shallow thrusts that follow. The expression on his face combined with the hot sensation of his cum filling you up is enough to send you over the edge as well, and you cum with a moan of his name, pulling him down by his throat to muffle your whimpers against his lips.

The pressure around his throat eases up, and Choso breathes rapidly between kisses, pushing his hips as close against yours as possible while he feels like stars are dancing behind his eyelids. His cum leaks out of you, dripping down your skin and leaking onto the sheets, but neither of you can be bothered to care for that right now.

You don’t know how long the two of you indulge in messy kisses and desperate groping, but when your breathing has finally somewhat leveled out again, you feel exhausted. Pulling Choso closer, you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“Are you okay?” you ask, cringing at how hoarse you sound. Your fingers start to slowly press into the muscles of his back, hoping to ease some of the aches that he will be feeling later.

“I am more than okay…” Choso mumbles, his answer turning into a scattered mumble when he decides to press kisses against your throat. You giggle at the way he sounds even worse than you do.

“Good, my grudge is gone now.”

He can’t help but laugh at that.

You smile and turn your head, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “Don’t pull stunts like that anymore,” you whisper.

“Or else I will truly have to ruin you beyond repair.”

A weak chuckle leaves him. “I already feel positively ruined, thanks.”

Previous Chapter Series Masterlist Next Chapter

[A/N] hehe I bet y'all didn't think i would drop two chapters same night well your welcome. Final chapter may come by the end of this week. Anyways lmk y'all's thoughts in the comments. love y'all💋

PART TWO

[SUMMARY] - A month ago, everything fell apart. Some wounds healed. Others lingered beneath the surface, refusing to be forgotten. But no matter how far you run from the past, there comes a moment when you have no choice but to face it and decide whether it's worth leaving behind.

[TAGS] - MDNI 18+ ONLY. Profanity. Toxicity. Enemies to Lovers. Forced proximity. Slightly mean reader. YEARNING. ANGST. submissive Naoya. piv. unprotected sex. blowjobs. overstim. fingering. handjobs. whimpering. slight nipple play. teasing. (wc 11.1k)

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°❀.ೃ࿔* Where We Began

When the summons came, Naoya should've ignored it. He almost did. The text had appeared while he was sitting in his apartment pretending to study for finals.

Your father wants to see you.

No explanation. No request. Just an order.

The same kind he'd received his entire life. For several moments, he simply stared at the screen. His jaw tightening. Something ugly was twisting in his chest. A month ago, he would've gone immediately.

Without question. Without hesitation. Because that's what he always did.

Obey.

He was tired.

Tired of pretending. Tired of being the perfect son. Tired of sacrificing pieces of himself for people who had never once cared about him. Still. He went. Because old habits die hard.

The Zenin estate looked exactly the same as it always had. Naoya hated it. The mansion was beautiful. Expensive. And yet somehow it had never felt like home.

Not once.

As he stepped through the front doors, servants immediately lowered their gazes. The familiar sight made his stomach churn. Nobody looked happy here. Nobody ever did. His father was waiting in his office. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the estate grounds. A view worth millions. A view Naoya had spent years staring at while being told he wasn't good enough.

His father didn't look up when he entered. Instead, he continued reading whatever document sat on his desk. Another power play. Another reminder of who was in control. Naoya remained standing. Silently. Patiently.

"Sit."

Naoya lowered himself into the chair. The silence stretched.

"Your grades have dropped."

Naoya blinked. That was it? That was why he'd been summoned? Not because his son was struggling. Not because he hadn't been home in weeks. Not because his life had completely fallen apart.

Grades.

His father tossed a report onto the desk.

"You've become distracted again."

Naoya glanced at it. Then looked away. Couldn't bring himself to care.

"You've embarrassed this family enough recently."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Recently. Meaning the fight.

His father folded his hands together.

"You are supposed to represent this family."

There it was. The family. Always the family.

A tool. An investment. A legacy. His father continued speaking. Words blending together.

Disappointment. Responsibility. Expectations.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

The same speech. Over and over again. He was tired. Exhaustingly. Tired.

"...Are you even listening to me?"

The question pulled him from his thoughts.

Slowly, Naoya looked up.

His father frowned.

Something inside him snapped. More like a rope stretched too tightly, finally giving way.

A lifetime of pressure. A lifetime of disappointment. A lifetime of trying. Breaking.

"You know..."

His voice came out quieter than expected.

"What?"

Naoya laughed. A hollow sound.

"You've never once asked if I was happy."

His father stared. Clearly confused. As though the question itself was ridiculous.

Naoya laughed again. Of course he didn't understand.

"Not once."

His father set down his pen.

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?"

Years of resentment surged forward.

"I've spent my entire life doing exactly what you wanted."

His voice rose. Despite himself.

"I got the grades."

"I played the part."

His hands trembled.

"I did everything."

His father stood. Immediately irritated.

"Watch your tone."

Naoya barked out another laugh.

"Naoya."

His father took a step forward. Warning flashing across his face. But for the first time in his life—

Naoya didn't care.

"You know what the funny part is?" His voice shook. Not with fear, with anger,  Raw, Ugly anger.

Years of it.

"I kept thinking if I worked hard enough you'd finally care."

The room fell silent.

"You never did."

His father's expression hardened.

"You are acting like a child."

The words landed like gasoline on an open flame. A child.

Then slowly rose to his feet. For the first time in his life. He stood eye-to-eye with the man who had controlled him for decades. And he wasn't afraid.

Not anymore.

"No."

His voice was steady now. Terrifyingly steady.

"I'm finally acting like myself."

His father's jaw tightened.

"You should leave before you say something you'll regret."

Naoya smiled.

"I regret almost everything about my life."

Silence, heavy silence. The oppressive type.

"I hate you."

The words hung in the air. Neither of them moved. Naoya felt something inside his chest crack open.

Years of pain spilling out.

"I hate this family."

"I hate what you've done to me."

His voice broke. Just slightly.

"I hate that you made me believe I wasn't worth anything unless I was useful."

His father finally found his voice.

"That's enough."

"No."

The word echoed through the room.

"You don't get to control me anymore."

"Naoya—"

"You can write me out of the will."

His father froze.

"You can disown me."

Another step backward.

The first sign of uncertainty.

"I don't care."

Naoya's eyes burned.

"I don't want any of it."

The estate. The money. The expectations. The legacy.

None of it.

"I'd rather have nothing."

His voice cracked.

"Then spend another day being your son."

Silence. Complete silence.

Then Naoya turned. And walked away. For the first time in his life, he didn't wait for permission.

Naoya didn't remember making it to his car. One second, he was storming through the mansion. The next thing he knew, he was outside. The massive front doors closed behind him with a heavy thud. His chest rose and fell violently. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins. His hands were trembling. He kept walking. Until he reached his car.

The driver's side door opened. Then slammed shut behind him. Naoya gripped the steering wheel.

Hard.

So hard his knuckles turned white. His breathing came in short bursts. Fast. Uneven. His heart pounded against his ribs. The confrontation replayed in his head. It should've felt good. Shouldn't it? Shouldn't he feel relieved? Free? Victorious? Instead, he felt sick.

Because despite everything. Despite all the anger. Despite all the hatred. That had still been his father. The only father he'd ever known. And now it was over. Really over. His father would never forgive him for what he'd said. The realization hit him like a freight train. A strange laugh escaped him. He had spent his entire life chasing things he could never have. His father's approval. Vivienne. You.

The laugh dissolved into a choking sound.

Before he knew it, tears were sliding down his face. Naoya squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck."

His voice cracked. The curse barely audible. Another tear followed. Then another. Then another. And suddenly he couldn't stop. All of it came rushing out at once. His shoulders shook. His forehead dropped against the steering wheel. For the first time in his life—

Naoya cried.

The kind of crying that left your chest aching. The kind that made breathing difficult. The kind that left you feeling hollow afterward.

And through it all—

He thought about you. Of course he did.

Because somehow every road led back to you. The image of your face appeared immediately. Your smile. Your laugh.

He missed you.

The realization hurt more than everything that had happened inside the mansion. Because unlike his family and everyone else—

You had cared about him. You had actually cared. Not because of his last name. Not because of his money. Not because of what he could provide. You had wanted to know him. The real him. And what had he done?

Destroyed it.

Ruined it with his own two hands. A bitter laugh escaped him.

"Idiot."

The word came out hoarse. Because that was exactly what he was.

An idiot.

You had been right there. Right in front of him. Offering him everything he'd spent his entire life searching for. And he'd pushed you away. He could still remember the look on your face. The devastation.

The memory made his stomach twist violently. You had loved him. Or at least been willing to. And he'd taken that gift and shattered it. His chest tightened. Another tear slipped free.

He missed talking to you. Missed seeing you. Missed hearing your voice. Missed all the little things he'd taken for granted.

He missed everything.

A month. It had only been a month. Yet somehow it felt like years. His phone sat in the passenger seat.

Naoya stared at it. Then looked away. Then looked back again. His jaw tightened.

No.

You didn't want to hear from him. Why would you?

He'd made sure of that. But slowly he reached over and grabbed the device anyway. Your contact appeared almost immediately. He stared at your name. At the picture attached to it. At the smiling girl who probably hated him now. A fresh wave of grief hit him. He wanted to hear your voice.

Just once.

He wanted to tell you everything.

About how sorry he was. About how much he missed you. About how every day without you felt wrong. His thumb hovered over the call button. Hesitating. Fear gripping his chest.

Because what if you didn't answer?

Worse.

What if you did? What could he possibly say?

Sorry?

The word felt too small. Meaningless. How could one word fix everything he'd broken? It couldn't. And yet...

He couldn't keep living like this. Something had to change. His eyes drifted toward the windshield. Dark clouds had begun gathering overhead. Heavy. Threatening. A storm was coming.

Naoya wiped at his face. Then finally made a decision. A reckless one. The kind of decision that would either save him or destroy him.

He pressed call.

And listened to the phone ring.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

No answer.

His stomach sank.

Eventually he dropped the phone into the passenger seat. Defeated. Outside, rain began tapping softly against the windshield.

Within minutes the sky opened completely. Sheets of rain hammered against the glass. The rhythmic sound filled the car. Naoya stared through it. Watching the world blur.

His grip tightened around the steering wheel. Go home. That would be the smart thing.

Go home.

Take a shower. Sleep. Pretend today never happened. Pretend he hadn't just destroyed the last bridge connecting him to his family. Pretend he wasn't completely falling apart.

Instead—

He started the car. The engine roared to life. And before he could talk himself out of it, he was driving.

Straight toward you.

°❀.ೃ࿔*

Meanwhile, you were completely unaware of the emotional crisis currently taking place across town.

You sat cross-legged on the couch. Laptop balanced on your thighs. Several notebooks spread across the coffee table. A half-finished energy drink sat forgotten beside you. Your entire life seemed to revolve around finals lately.

The loft was unusually quiet. Vicki had gone out with friends. For once, you had the apartment completely to yourself. It was peaceful. At least until your phone buzzed. You glanced down absentmindedly.

Then froze.

Naoya.

Your stomach immediately tightened.

One missed call.

Then another. Then another. Then another. Five total.

You stared at the screen. The familiar name seemed to burn itself into your vision. For several moments, you simply looked at it. Unable to move. Unable to think. Your heart beat a little faster.

Annoying.

Because you had been doing so well.

A month. An entire month. And now, suddenly, here he was again. Disrupting everything. You pressed your lips together. Then locked your phone.

No. Absolutely not. Not tonight.

Buzz.

A text message.

Your stomach dropped. Against your better judgment, you opened it.

Naoya: Please. Just one conversation.

You immediately locked the screen again. You tossed the phone onto the couch beside you. Determined to ignore it. Then spent the next ten minutes thinking about it.

Wonderful.

You hated him. You really did. At least you thought you did. Because if you truly hated him—

Why hadn't you blocked his number yet? The realization irritated you. Your eyes drifted toward the phone again. Block him. The option sat right there. One tap. Done. Problem solved. Instead, your thumb hovered uselessly over the screen.

You couldn't do it. You were pathetic.

A sudden knock echoed through the apartment. You jumped. Immediately looking toward the front door.

Who the hell—

Another knock. Louder this time.

Your brows furrowed. Vicki had a key. She wouldn’t knock. Slowly, you stood. The apartment suddenly felt too quiet.

Another knock.

Carefully you approached the door. Then peered through the peephole. And froze.

Naoya.

Standing outside your apartment. Completely drenched. Rainwater soaked through the white t-shirt clinging to his body. His bleached hair hung messily across his forehead. Drops of water rolled down his face. His expression looked exhausted. Nothing like the arrogant asshole you'd spent months arguing with.

For a moment you forgot how to breathe.

Another knock. Gentler this time.

"Please."

His voice was muffled through the door. You remained completely still.

"Please."

The word cracked. Your chest tightened. Naoya rested his forehead against the wood.

"I know you're in there."

A thousand emotions crashed together at once. Anger, hurt, confusion, relief,  longing, everything.

On the other side of the door, Naoya closed his eyes.

"Just hear me out."

His voice sounded small. Fragile.

"I won't ask for anything else."

Your eyes burned. Damn it. You hated this. Hated how much hearing him hurt. Hated how much it still affected you. Minutes passed. Neither of you moved.

Eventually Naoya laughed. A hollow sound. The kind that broke your heart a little.

"Yeah. I deserve that."

Your hand tightened against the wall.

"Sorry for bothering you."

The words were quiet. Defeated. And somehow that hurt more than anything else. Slowly, you heard footsteps retreating down the hallway. Then nothing.

You remained frozen beside the door. Eventually, you forced yourself to move. Your feet carried you toward the window. Almost against your own will. The storm outside had only gotten worse. Rain pounded against the glass. Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance.

Then you spotted him. And your heart shattered. Because he hadn't left. Naoya sat alone outside the apartment building. Slumped against the brick wall. Completely exposed to the storm. Rain soaked every inch of him.

His head hung low. His shoulders slumped. He looked utterly defeated. Like a man who had finally run out of fight.

You didn't feel angry anymore.

Only sad.

For several moments, you simply stood there. Staring. Watching rain pour from the sky in relentless sheets. Watching water run down the sidewalk. Watching Naoya sit completely motionless beneath the storm.

He looked miserable.

Absolutely miserable.

The sight should've satisfied you. A month ago, you would've wanted him to hurt. Wanted him to understand even a fraction of what he'd put you through.

But now?

Now all you felt was tired. Tired of being angry. Tired of being hurt. Tired of pretending you didn't still care.

Lightning flashed across the sky. For a brief moment, the entire street was illuminated. And you caught a glimpse of his face. Your breath caught.

He was crying.

The realization hit harder than you expected. Naoya Zenin didn't cry. Not the Naoya you knew.

Not the arrogant, insufferable, impossible man who always acted like he was above everything and everyone.

Yet there he was.

Crying in the rain like a sad puppy dog.

Your chest tightened painfully.

"Damn it."

The curse slipped from your lips. You already knew you were going downstairs. The moment you'd seen him sitting there, you'd lost the battle.

Slowly, you walked toward the front closet. Grabbed an umbrella. Slipped on a pair of sandals. Then headed for the elevator before you could change your mind.

The ride down felt agonizing. Your pulse thundered inside your ears. The doors finally opened. Cool air immediately greeted you. Your tank top hung dangerously low. Rain battered the pavement outside.

You stepped into the storm. The umbrella shielded you from most of it. The closer you got, the more nervous you became.

What exactly were you supposed to say?

Hi?

Why are you crying outside my apartment?

You looked ridiculous?

None of those seemed appropriate. Naoya still hadn't noticed you. His head remained lowered. Lost somewhere inside his own thoughts. Your footsteps slowed. Then stopped directly beside him. Carefully, you tilted the umbrella. Sheltering him from the rain.

For several seconds nothing happened.

Then slowly—

His head lifted. His eyes met yours. And the look on his face nearly destroyed you. Relief. Like a drowning man finally reaching air.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Neither of you seemed capable. The storm filled the silence instead.

Rain.

Thunder.

The distant hum of traffic. Everything except the words lodged in both of your throats. Finally you cleared yours.

"You're an idiot."

His lips twitched.

Just barely.

"Yeah."

Your throat tightened. Because he sounded awful. His voice was rough. Like he'd spent hours screaming.

You swallowed.

Then sighed.

"Come upstairs."

The words left your mouth before you could overthink them.

Naoya blinked.

As if he hadn't expected that answer. As if he couldn't quite believe it.

"Come on."

You shifted the umbrella slightly.

"It's freezing."

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. Water dripped from his clothes. His white shirt clung completely to his body. Soaked through.

Pathetic.

You hated how your heart ached looking at him. The two of you rode the elevator in silence. You could feel him staring. Feel the weight of his gaze.

Neither of you acknowledged it.

When the doors opened, you led him into the apartment. The loft felt strangely intimate now.

Just the two of you.

You disappeared briefly into the hallway. Returning with a towel.

"Here."

Naoya accepted it immediately.

"Thanks."

You nodded.

Then turned away. Needing a second. Needing space. Needing to breathe. Because having him here felt dangerous.

You barely made it two steps before fingers wrapped gently around your wrist.

You froze.

Slowly looking back. Naoya sat on the edge of the couch. Still dripping water everywhere. Still looking absolutely wrecked.

His grip wasn't demanding. Wasn't forceful.

If anything—

It felt hesitant. Like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

Your chest tightened.

"Naoya—"

The words died instantly.

Because suddenly he leaned forward. Resting his forehead against your stomach.

Your heart shattered.

The arrogant boy you'd spent months hating was gone.

All that remained was someone hurting. Someone exhausted. Someone who looked like he was hanging together by a thread.

You slowly lowered your hand. Your fingers slipping into his damp hair. And for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence said enough.

A shaky breath escaped him. And when he finally spoke—

His voice cracked.

"I messed everything up."

The confession came out barely above a whisper.

"I know."

Another painful laugh.

"I really did."

You closed your eyes.

Because hearing him admit it somehow hurt more than hearing him deny it ever could.

Naoya tightened his grip on your wrist. Not enough to stop you. Just enough to keep you there.

"I don't expect you to forgive me."

His voice trembled.

"I don't."

Another breath. Another crack in his composure.

"But I needed to tell you I'm sorry."

The words hung between you.

And for the first time since you'd met him—

Naoya Zenin sounded completely sincere.

"I am so fucking sorry."

Your fingers continued moving through his damp hair. Slowly. Absent-mindedly. Naoya closed his eyes. The simple touch seemed to undo him.

A shaky breath left his lungs. His grip around your wrist loosened slightly. As though he was finally allowing himself to breathe.

The rain continued tapping softly against the loft windows. The storm still raging outside. Inside, everything felt still. Suspended. Like the world itself was waiting.

Eventually you broke the silence.

"What happened?"

Naoya didn't answer immediately. His forehead remained pressed against your stomach. Like he couldn't bear to look at you yet.

"I saw my father today."

The words came out quiet.

Your brows furrowed.

You knew enough about Naoya's family to understand that wasn't a good thing.

"You fought?"

A hollow laugh escaped him.

"Yeah."

Silence.

"I told him I hated him."

Your eyes widened slightly. That got your attention. Because of all his complaints about his father—

Naoya had never actually stood up to him. Not really. He'd complain. Talk shit behind closed doors. But confront him directly? Never.

Naoya finally lifted his head.

Slowly.

His eyes found yours.

God.

You nearly stopped breathing.

They were red. Bloodshot. Filled with exhaustion. You'd never seen him look so vulnerable before.

"I told him I didn't want anything to do with him anymore."

His voice cracked.

"I told him he could disown me."

Your stomach dropped.

"Naoya..."

A humorless laugh escaped him.

"Pretty dramatic, huh?"

No.

Not dramatic.

Heartbreaking.

Because suddenly everything made sense. The desperate look in his eyes. And somehow that hurt.

Naoya looked away. Unable to hold your gaze for long.

"I spent my entire life trying to make him proud."

You remained silent. Listening.

"It's stupid."

The bitterness in his voice made your chest ache.

"I got the grades."

His gaze dropped toward the floor.

"I played sports."

Another bitter smile.

"I did everything."

You could hear the years of disappointment woven through every word. The years of trying. The years of failing. The years of never being enough. And suddenly you understood something.

Naoya wasn't arrogant because he thought he was perfect. Naoya was arrogant because he was terrified he wasn't.

The realization settled heavily in your chest.

He swallowed hard.

Then finally looked at you again.

"Do you know what the worst part is?"

You shook your head.

His eyes glistened.

"I kept thinking if I worked harder he'd finally love me."

Your heart shattered.

Because beneath everything he was still just a little boy desperately trying to earn affection. The kind he'd never received.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

Naoya immediately looked away. Embarrassed. Ashamed.

As if crying in front of you was somehow worse than everything else.

You reached forward without thinking. Your hand cupping his face. Turning him back toward you.

His breath caught.

The contact seemed to completely stun him. For a moment, he simply stared. Like, he couldn't believe you were touching him. That you were still here. You wiped away the tear with your thumb.

The gesture nearly undid him. You watched his composure crack. Piece by piece.

Until finally he whispered:

"I'm so tired."

Your throat tightened. Because you believed him.

Naoya closed his eyes briefly. Then opened them again. Determination settling behind them. Like he'd finally decided there was no point hiding anymore.

Not from you.

"I need you to understand something."

His voice was shaking.

"But I need you to hear me."

You nodded. Slowly.

Naoya drew in a shaky breath. Then finally said the thing he'd spent months avoiding. The thing that had destroyed both of you.

"I didn't say those things because I didn't care about you."

His gaze never left yours.

"I said them because I cared too much."

Your breath caught.

Naoya laughed bitterly. Immediately hating how pathetic it sounded.

"I know."

His eyes closed briefly.

"I know how insane that sounds."

"You hurt me."

The words slipped out quietly.

Naoya visibly flinched. Like you'd struck him.

"I know."

Pain crossed his features.

"I know."

His voice broke.

"I think about it every day."

The room fell silent. The rain continuing outside.

Naoya swallowed hard. Then finally forced himself to continue.

"I was scared."

The admission seemed to physically pain him.

"I've spent my entire life chasing people."

His eyes dropped.

"my mother never cared."

Another breath.

"My father never cared."

You didn't interrupt. Didn't judge. Didn't move. You simply listened. The way you'd always listened. And maybe that was why he finally found the courage to say it.

"Then I met you."

Naoya's chest rose and fell unevenly. Like every word was being dragged from somewhere deep inside him. Somewhere he'd spent years trying to keep buried. His eyes never left yours.

Not once.

Because if he looked away now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to finish.

"I spent an entire month trying to convince myself not to come here."

A shaky laugh escaped him.

"I told myself you hated me."

You didn't respond.

Because part of you had.

Naoya seemed to understand that.

"I told myself you were better off without me."

A bitter smile crossed his face.

"You probably are."

"Naoya—"

"No."

He shook his head.

"Please."

His voice softened.

"Just let me say it."

You fell silent.

Naoya took a breath. Then another. Like he was preparing himself for impact.

"I know I don't deserve another chance."

His eyes glistened.

"I know that."

A painful laugh.

"I know I don't deserve forgiveness either."

Your chest tightened. Because you could see how much this was costing him. Every crack in the walls he'd spent years building.

"But I needed you to know."

His voice dropped lower.

"I needed you to know that none of it was real."

The rain continued tapping against the windows. Soft now. Gentle. Almost peaceful.

"The things I said."

His face twisted with regret.

"The way I treated you."

Another shake of his head.

"It wasn't because I thought you weren't enough."

His voice broke.

"It was because I was terrified that you were."

Naoya looked down at his hands. Then back up.

"I knew if I let myself have you..."

His throat worked.

"...I'd lose you."

A tear slipped free.

"I know how stupid that sounds."

"It does."

A watery laugh escaped him.

"Yeah."

For the first time that evening, the corner of your mouth twitched. Just slightly. Naoya noticed. His expression softened immediately. Like seeing even the smallest hint of your smile was enough to keep him going.

"I've never been good at this."

"No kidding."

That earned an actual laugh.

Small.

Then his expression became serious again. More serious than you'd ever seen. The kind of seriousness that made your pulse quicken.

Naoya swallowed hard.

Then finally said it.

"I love you."

The room went completely still. Even the rain seemed quieter. Your breath caught. His eyes never left yours. Not for a second.

"I love you."

The words sounded steadier this time. Certain. Like he'd finally stopped running from them.

"I think I've loved you for a long time."

Your heart pounded. Hard. Painfully hard.

Naoya laughed weakly.

"You have no idea how hard it was to admit that to myself."

You almost rolled your eyes.

Almost.

"But it's true."

His gaze softened. Leaving behind something terrifyingly honest.

"I love you when you're angry."

A faint smile appeared.

"I love you when you're being stubborn."

Your cheeks warmed.

"I love how smart you are."

Another smile.

"I love how you challenge me."

His voice grew quieter.

"I love how you care about people."

The smile disappeared. Replaced by something raw. Something vulnerable.

"I love the way you looked at me before I ruined everything."

Naoya's eyes shimmered.

"I know I can't take back what I did."

His voice trembled.

"I know I can't erase any of it."

Another breath.

"But if you give me a chance..."

His hand slowly found yours. Not forcing. Not demanding. Just asking.

"If you give me a chance, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you."

Your throat tightened. The sincerity in his voice was almost unbearable. Because this wasn't the Naoya you'd known.

Not really.

This was the boy underneath all the damage. The boy who'd spent years begging to be loved. The boy who'd finally stopped pretending he didn't need anyone.

You could see it in his eyes.

The desperation.

He looked like a man standing at the edge of a cliff. Waiting to see whether he'd fall. Slowly, you lifted your free hand. Your fingers brushing against his cheek.

Naoya froze.

His breath catching immediately.

"You are such an idiot."

The words came out soft. Almost fond.

A shaky laugh escaped him.

"Yeah."

Your thumb brushed beneath his eye. Wiping away the remnants of a tear.

"You hurt me."

His face crumpled.

"I know."

"You broke my heart."

His eyes closed. Pain flashing across his features.

"I know."

You swallowed. Trying to steady the emotions rising inside your chest. For a month, you'd told yourself you were over him. That you didn't need him. That you'd moved on.

And maybe part of that was true.

But another part?

Had never stopped loving him.

You sighed. Then gently forced him to look at you.

Really look at you.

"You're lucky I love you too."

For a second Naoya just stared. Like he genuinely couldn't process the words. Couldn't believe they'd come from your mouth.

Then his eyes widened. Hope flooding his expression so quickly it nearly broke your heart.

"You—"

"Don't make me repeat it."

His laugh cracked in the middle. Half laugh. Half sob. You'd never seen anyone look so relieved. So overwhelmed. So grateful. 

And suddenly, all the distance between you didn't seem so impossible anymore.

Your hands cupped his face, leaning down to kiss his nervous lips, soothing him.

The sound that filled your mouth from him made your lower tummy feel like it was burning and filling with butterflies.

His hands found your ass this time, clumsily dragging you forward, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

He's shy about it. At first, his kisses come tentative, like he's still learning where to place his hands, still unsure how close he's allowed to be.

But the moment he realizes you're staying right there with him? he just folds into you.

His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. He holds you like he's scared you might slip away if he isn't gentle enough.

His kisses stay soft. slow. a little unsteady— yet so full of feeling it tugs at something deep in your chest.

And when he finally pulls back, he barely moves, breath brushing your lips, eyes flicking to your mouth like he's already missing the contact.

“I missed you so much you have no idea.”

“I know.” You grab his hand, pulling him upward.

You lead him to your bedroom slowly but surely. Shutting the door behind the two of you.

“Undress.”

He follows your command without hesitation, and you follow along. For a moment, you both just stand there admiring each other’s bodies. Studying every detail, memorizing every crevice.

The tension was so thick the cold weather seemed to lose its effect.

Then your bodies collided in a blur, hands roaming everywhere, sloppy open-mouth kisses, the feeling was euphoric.

Your hands find their way down to his pre-slicked cock, gripping and jerking him off.

His hips stuttered, as if trying to fuck up into your fist from the new sensation, whimpering your name softly.  

Being too distracted by the lovely sounds he was making and the heated make-out, you hadn’t even noticed that one of his hands had found its way between your own thighs, not until you felt warm, unsure fingers sliding and parting your slick folds, cupping your cunt with his palm.

“Fuck- Naoya.” You moaned against his mouth, already shifting your knees to part your thighs for him. 

A finger found your entrance, prodding at the first ring of muscle before sliding inside, your velvety walls gladly taking it inside.

Another long finger joined, making you arch your back, rolling your hips down against his hand. His other one joined, thumb finding your pulsing clit, rubbing it and the rest of the digits pressing into your lower tummy.

“You’re doing so good- agnh-” You groan, nibbling at his ear.

Meanwhile, you hadn’t stopped gripping and pulling up and down at his cock, thumb swiping across the slit at the pinkish head, making Naoya shudder and shove his fingers deeper inside of you.

But you could hear him breathing harder, trying to thrust up into your hands faster. You could sense that he was about to cum. 

But Naoya abruptly pulled his hands out from you and tugged your hand off of him too. His chest heaving underneath his shirt, bringing the fingers that had been inside of you to have a little taste.

“I want my cock inside of your pretty pussy- please let me fuck you.” he palms at your breasts, thumb flicking over your nipple.

“Let me make you feel good” he bites at your lower lip guiding you to your bed.

As he reaches for his discarded pants to pull out a condom, you stop him by grabbing his wrist. 

“I want to feel you, all of you.”

You shifted, pushing him deeper down into the pillows while sitting down on his pelvis, a hand reaching back to grab the base of his cock, guiding it to your slit, slowly gliding the squishy tip up and down to get it covered in your clear mess.

You arched your back, a soft sigh and a small whine leaving you both at the same time once it passed the rim, your hands held on to his shoulders. 

One of Naoya’s hands was on your lower back, close to gripping the top of your cheek, the other was on your hip, trying to ground himself.

Once it was fully in, it fitting so perfectly inside, like it had been made for just you, he couldn’t help himself, his hips trying to roll, trying to thrust up in shallow movements.

“Please can I move I-  I’ll be good please, baby, I just…” Naoya babbled.

You just nodded, leaning back to start rocking your hips, helping him find a rhythm.

And before you knew it, he was thrusting up into you with a bit too much force, gasping for air from the sweet pleasure of your walls clenching and squeezing him. 

It didn’t take much time for him to look like he was seeing heaven, eyes focused on where your bodies connected.

The sounds of skin meeting skin, his whines and your sounds filled the empty loft.

Every roll of your hips makes his thick length slide perfectly inside you, hitting that spot that makes you moan softly. His hands are gripping your thighs, fingers digging in like he needs something to hold onto.

“Baby—” he stammers, voice cracking. His cheeks are flushed, his hair messy, his lips parted as he tries to keep his breathing steady. You smile down at him, grinding your hips in a slow circle.

“You look so cute like this,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss him. You ride him faster now, taking him deeper. He moans into your mouth, hips jerking up to meet yours. One of his hands slides up your back, the other stays on your hip, guiding you as you bounce up and down on him.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes, voice shaky. “I can’t- I’m gonna—”. His eyes, those pretty, unfocused eyes, lock onto yours, wide and desperate.

You ride him harder, chasing your own pleasure while watching him fall apart underneath you. When you come, clenching tight around him, he follows right after with a broken groan, hips stuttering as he spills deep inside you.

He slumped down on the bed. But before he could catch his breath, your grip on him tightened, stroking it up and down hard. His eyes shot up, looking down at you. His thighs started trembling uncontrollably.

"Wait- hah- fuck! I already came! Baby, I can't!—" his hands came up to stop your hand from moving it, wrapping around your wrist. "Please!- mmn!" His hips jerked up when you suddenly went down on him, swirling your tongue around, bobbing up and down. 

You could feel yourself getting even more wet at the loud whimper he let out. When you looked up at him, tears pricked his eyes, pouring down his cheeks.

While the tears were still dripping down his face. His teary eyes met yours as he leaned in for a kiss, capturing your lips as he moaned into your mouth, "fuck-"  he muttered. "I'm cummin again, baby," he erupted, painting your face with his cum, as it dripped down to your mouth, lapping up the liquids with a satisfying slurp.

Afterward, he lies there panting, looking completely wrecked and blissed out. You lean down and kiss him softly, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. He laughs breathlessly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down to his chest.

“You were so amazing.” he places a soft kiss against your cheek.

You both lay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth of each other's embrace. Just the two of you.

Naoya's fingers lazily traced circles against your arm. A small smile tugged at your lips.

"What?"

You laughed softly.

The sound vibrated against his chest. Naoya immediately tightened his arms around you. As if he was afraid you'd disappear.

You tilted your head back slightly. His eyes were already on you. The intensity of his gaze hadn't changed. If anything, it had gotten worse.

"What?" you asked.

A strange expression crossed his face. Nervous.

You laughed.

"Just say it."

Naoya sighed dramatically. Then sat up slightly. His hand finding yours beneath the blanket. For a moment, he simply stared at your intertwined fingers. His thumb brushing across your knuckles.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than usual.

"Can I ask you something?"

You immediately narrowed your eyes.

"That sounds suspicious."

"I'm serious."

That got your attention. Your teasing smile softened.

"Okay."

He swallowed.

And for a second, you thought he looked terrified. Actually terrified.

He squeezed your hand. Then finally blurted it out.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

For one horrifying second, Naoya looked like he regretted asking. His ears immediately turned red.

"No."

You stared.

Then stared some more.

Before finally bursting into laughter.

"Oh my God."

His face dropped.

"Don’t play with me, I’m serious!"

"I know."

You laughed harder.

Because somehow this was the most nervous you'd ever seen him. Naoya Zenin looked ready to crawl under the couch.

You smiled. The kind of smile reserved only for him. The kind he'd spent months missing.

"Yes."

Naoya blinked.

"What?"

"Yes."

The hope exploded across his face so quickly it almost made you emotional.

"Really?"

You rolled your eyes.

"No, I just enjoy torturing you."

His grin appeared instantly. Before you could react, he pulled you directly into his lap.

You laughed.

"Naoya—"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I have a girlfriend."

You laughed again.

"Yes, you do."

His smile softened. The excitement slowly fading into something warmer. Something quieter.

His forehead rested against yours.

Finally, after everything. You had somehow found your way back to each other.

And neither of you planned on letting go again.

Previous Chapter Series Masterlist PART ONE

[A/N] Wow i finally finished this😭 I had to split the last chapter into two parts because tumblr was being a weirdo, maybe because it's too many words but idk, just click part two/or one? above. Anyways hope yall enjoyed this series. im excited to start my next one so go vote on my poll😏

[SUMMARY] - A vacant room. A looming deadline. And a stranger who seems almost too good to be true. As you scramble to keep your life from falling apart, a chance encounter forces you to question everything you thought you knew about the people around you. Sometimes, the biggest surprises are the ones hiding in plain sight.

[TAGS] - MDNI 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. dom! reader. Enemies to Lovers. Forced proximity. roomates to lovers. Toxicity. mean reader. loser choso. bullying. tags will be updated as the story progresses. (wc 5.0k)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

♡ Hey Roomie ♡

The sharp click of heels echoed down the long, crowded hallway, cutting through the chatter of students rushing between classes. Heads turned as you passed. Some stared. Some admired. Others shot you dirty looks.

You were used to it.

That was simply the cost of being perfect, right?

Not that you wanted to feed your own ego, but you were kind of perfect. Looks that could kill, outfits that looked like they cost half of somebody's rent, and not a single hair out of place. You were practically a real-life Barbie doll.

“If I don’t find someone to room with me quickly, I’ll be stuck living in campus dorms... eugh.”

You stuck your tongue out in disgust.

“Why don’t you just ask your dad? Isn’t he, like, rich?” Your best friend Tiffany asked, examining her cuticles as the two of you walked.

“Ugh, no. He hates that I don’t want to live on campus. He says it ruins the experience.” You air-quoted the last two words dramatically.

“He said he’d only give me half, so that requires roommates. Otherwise, I’d have that big, beautiful apartment all to myself.”

“Plus, it’s not that bad if I have a roommate, but Cami’s moving to Florida, so I don’t know what to do.”

You and Tiffany rounded the corner, quickly approaching your classroom.

“Put up an ad or something.”

“Ew. And live with a stranger, Tiff?”

She laughed.

“Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Ugh.”

You and Tiffany dropped into the seats furthest from the teacher, already intending to spend the lecture talking instead of paying attention.

“I just wish my dad didn’t have to be such a hardass.” You flipped your hair over your shoulder and pulled your laptop from your tote bag.

“I think it’s good. He’s teaching you not to be a spoiled brat.” She stuck her tongue out at you.

“Whatever. I’m not spoiled. I’m privileged, and I’m grateful for my privilege.” You scoffed.

“Yeah. A spoiled bitch, more like it.”

You cannot contain your eye roll.

“Like we aren’t one and the same?” You eye her questioningly.

“Oh, obvi, but the difference is I can admit I’m a bitch.” She winks at you.

That earns a laugh from you and a couple of side-eyes from the rest of the class.

Eventually, you and Tiffany resort to doomscrolling for the rest of the lecture, not bothering to care what the professor was yammering on about.

“Okay, that’s it for today. Make sure to have your research paper submitted by Friday.” He gathers his things and walks off.

You look at Tiffany with alarm.

“Research paper?”

She just shrugs.

“Acting like I was paying attention to the guy.”

“Fuck...”

You look around the room, panic beginning to rise in your chest. Your grades were already hanging on by a thread. The last thing you needed was academic probation.

A black figure catches your attention.

Sitting in the front row, dressed in a raggedy black hoodie with a black surgical mask covering most of his face, someone you knew all too well. Completely absorbed in his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as he typed away.

Score.

Choso Kamo.

Campus genius.

Resident pushover.

You make your way over, making sure to subtly pull down your top so it accentuated your assets a little more.

He doesn’t even notice you approaching from behind.

He’s so focused on his computer that he completely misses your presence until you reach over and pull the hood off his head, revealing two tired-looking pigtails.

He practically jumps out of his seat.

What a dork.

You can’t help but laugh as you slide into the empty chair beside him, crossing one leg over the other.

“Relax, princess. I don’t bite.” You wipe a fake tear from your eye.

You can’t really see his face. The mask covers too much of it. But you can tell he’s embarrassed.

He’s always so jumpy around you.

Pathetic.

“What do you want?” he asks, immediately pulling the hoodie back over his head.

“Oh, nothing much. Just an A on the upcoming research paper.” You cross your arms and tilt your head.

The dark circles beneath his eyes make it look like he hasn’t slept since the dinosaurs, but there’s something strangely captivating about them.

“Yeah? And what do I have to do with that?”

He looks at you like you’re some kind of alien before turning his attention right back to his laptop.

Now you’re getting annoyed.

With a scoff, you slam the laptop shut.

“Don’t play dumb, Choso. Last time I checked, you weren’t blonde.”

You offer him a sickeningly sweet smile.

He sighs, not bothering to look you in the eye.

“Fine. Whatever. Can you just let go of my laptop?”

“Great.”

You lift your hand from the laptop.

“I expect an A. No, make that an A+.”

With that, you stand and walk away. You return to where Tiffany is still sitting, watching your chaos unfold from afar.

“Don’t start, Tiff.”

“You torture that poor boy.” She laughs, grabbing her bag.

You’re quiet for a moment because it’s not like you can really defend yourself on this one.

You’d known Choso since freshman year when the two of you got paired together for an assignment, and he’d basically been your personal answer key ever since.

I mean, torture was a stretch. You didn’t beat him up or anything. Maybe just verbally abused him and occasionally threatened him.

“Pshh. Me? A bully? He’s a grown man. He’s not a child.”

“Still. I wouldn’t be surprised if he randomly dropped something on your head.”

“Oh, so he can assault me and that wouldn’t be a big deal?”

“Just don’t be surprised when he retaliates. That’s all.”

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

Back at your apartment, you help Cami pack the last of her belongings for the movers to load into the U-Haul.

“Ugh. What am I supposed to do without you, Cami?”

“Oh, hush. You’ll be fine.”

She tapes another box shut before pointing the roll of tape at you.

“Besides, I’ve known you my whole life, and when has there ever been an obstacle you haven’t gotten over?”

You pretend to think for a moment.

“Hmmm... never.”

You wink.

She laughs.

“Exactly. You’ll find someone to replace me.”

“But I don’t want just anyone!”

“I can’t just live with some random girl... or worse, a guy.”

“Just make sure you find them in a legit way.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Google it, bitch.”

She laughs while sealing the last box.

So that’s exactly what you do.

“Oh, this is perfect. roommates.com.”

“See? I told you. Google is always the answer.”

“This is perfect. It requires ID and everything. I won’t get stuck with some creep.”

You spend the next hour helping Cami finish packing before saying your emotional goodbyes. And just like that, she’s gone.

The apartment suddenly feels much larger than before. Much quieter, too.

You’re left standing in the middle of a half-empty living room, staring at the spaces where her belongings used to be.

You sigh.

Reopening roommates.com, you begin setting up your account, snapping pictures of the apartment and filling out the details.

A small part of you worries. The apartment isn’t exactly cheap. What if nobody wants it?

“Ugh, whatever. It’ll just weed out the trash.”

You upload the pictures. For safety reasons, you use a guy’s name as your username. You could never be too careful living alone as a woman.

Once everything is posted, you stare at your phone, expecting instant success.

Unfortunately, that isn’t how life works.

With nothing else to do, you decide to distract yourself with television.

You put your DND on and toss it toward the opposite end of the couch before wrapping yourself tightly in your favorite blanket.

A few clicks later, The Vampire Diaries appears on screen.

Your comfort show.

You end up dozing off sometime during the third episode.

Exhaustion finally catches up with you.

By the time you wake up, the sun has already set, casting the apartment in warm orange shadows.

You immediately reach for your phone and unlock it with Face ID.

A sigh of relief escapes you when you see three notifications from the roommate website.

“Okay... let’s see what I’m working with.”

You scroll through the profiles.

An older man with a beer belly appears first.

Swipe.

Absolutely not.

Next comes an elderly woman who looks like she belongs in a retirement community.

You weren’t signing up to be somebody’s caregiver.

Next.

“Holy shit...”

The very next profile nearly makes you drop your phone.

The man staring back at you might just be the most beautiful human being your eyes have ever had the privilege of witnessing.

Shaggy black hair framed his face perfectly.

His features were sharp enough to be carved from stone. A dark tattoo stretched across the bridge of his nose.

You immediately call Tiffany.

“Tiff, holy shit! The finest man I have ever seen just requested to be my roommate.”

“Omg. Share with the class. Hello?”

You start screen-sharing as the two of you scroll through his profile together.

“Hell yeah. Who cares if he’s a serial killer? That man is fineee.”

Both of you burst into laughter.

“Wait... that’s weird, though.”

Tiffany suddenly leans closer to her screen, analyzing the profile.

“Isn’t that your little plaything’s name?”

You stare at the username.

Chosok3.

“Yeah, but no way that’s him. The guy wears a mask all the time and he’s a total dork.”

“True. It’s a common name.”

“That, and Choso… Choso… looking like that? Call me Beyoncé then.”

You both dissolve into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“So should I accept it?”

“Girl, hell yes. That is a beautiful man right there. Just make sure you buy a gun.”

“Tiff...”

“I’m serious. Better safe than sorry.”

You roll your eyes before pressing Accept.

Chosok3: Is the room still available?

You: Yes. We should meet in person to discuss the details.

Chosok3: Sounds good. Where did you have in mind?

You send him the location of a nearby café.

Chosok3: Great. How about tomorrow?

You: See you then.

You exit the app and reopen FaceTime.

“Okay, done. I’m meeting him tomorrow.”

“OMG. I’m so excited for you. This is going to be great. Make sure you dress sexy.”

“Well, duh.”

You roll your eyes playfully.

After wrapping up your call with Tiffany, you find yourself opening his profile again.

And again.

And maybe one more time.

You slowly scroll through his pictures, shamelessly admiring them.

His broad shoulders strained against the fabric of his T-shirt, leaving very little to the imagination. Everything about him looked effortlessly attractive.

You couldn't help but stare.

Maybe drool a little.

It was honestly crazy that he had the same name as Choso from your class.

What were the odds?

One was built like a Greek god who looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

The other was...

Well.

A loser.

The thought immediately reminds you to check on a certain loser’s progress with your assignment.

You: Status?

Dork: Halfway done.

You: ur the best, thanks.

Read.

You laugh, tossing your phone onto the bed before grabbing a towel.

After today, you desperately needed a hot shower.

The warm water helped melt away the stress lingering in your shoulders, and by the time you stepped out, the apartment felt calmer somehow.

Quieter.

You pull on your comfiest pajamas, crawl beneath your blankets, and quickly drift off to sleep.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

The next morning, sunlight pours through your curtains, casting soft golden shadows across your bedroom walls.

You let out a groan and stretch beneath the blankets before rolling over and shutting off your alarm.

Your apartment still feels strangely empty without Cami.

Half the decorations are gone. Several walls sit bare where photos and posters used to hang. The silence somehow makes the space feel even larger.

You push the feeling away. No time for that.

Throwing open your closet doors, you begin scanning your options.

If you’re meeting the hottest man you've ever seen in your life, you certainly aren't showing up looking basic.

Absolutely not.

After nearly twenty minutes of trying on outfits and throwing rejected clothes across your bed, you finally settle on the perfect one.

A fitted cream-colored top hugged your figure perfectly. The neckline showed just enough skin without crossing the line into trying too hard. A black pleated skirt stopped mid-thigh, making your legs look impossibly long. You paired it with sheer tights and your favorite black heels.

The kind that clicked dramatically against every surface and somehow made you feel ten times more powerful.

Perfect.

You stand in front of your mirror, admiring the final result.

“God really does have favorites.”

You wink at your reflection.

Your makeup routine comes next. Nothing too dramatic. Just enough concealer, mascara, blush, and lip gloss to make everything look effortless.

Even though it absolutely wasn't.

Exactly six minutes later, you’re climbing into Tiffany’s car.

The second she sees you, her sunglasses slowly slide down her nose.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Oh my God.”

You grin.

“What?”

“Bitch.”

You laugh.

“What?”

“If I looked like that, I’d never shut up.”

You dramatically flip your hair.

“Good thing I already don’t.”

“Fair.”

The drive to campus passes quickly. Most of it is spent discussing the mysterious roommate situation.

“Do you think he’s actually that hot in person?” Tiffany asks.

“He better be.”

“What if he catfished you?”

You visibly shudder.

“Don’t even put that energy into the universe.”

“I’m serious.”

“No. He’s too hot to be fake.”

“Famous last words.”

A few minutes later, you arrive on campus.

The moment your heels hit the pavement, several heads turn. Not that you notice. Okay. Maybe you notice a little.

The pathways are crowded with students carrying coffees, backpacks, and armfuls of textbooks as they rush toward class.

Meanwhile, your mind remains completely occupied by one thing. The meeting. The more you think about it, the more questions begin forming.

Who was this guy?

Why did he suddenly need housing?

How was someone that attractive still searching for roommates?

None of it made sense.

“Earth to Barbie.”

Tiffany waves a hand in front of your face.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring into space for like two minutes.”

You blink.

“Sorry.”

“Oh my God.”

“What now?”

“You like him already.”

“I don’t even know him.”

“You spent twenty minutes staring at his profile pictures.”

“That was research.”

Tiffany bursts into laughter.

“Research.”

“Yes.”

“Totally.”

Before you can defend yourself further, the familiar classroom comes into view. Students fill the room. Conversations buzz from every direction.

And sitting exactly where he always sits—

Front row.

Black hoodie.

Black mask.

Choso Kamo.

Completely absorbed in his laptop and oblivious to the world around him. You roll your eyes. Some people truly had no idea how to live.

“There’s your favorite plaything,” Tiffany whispers.

You immediately smack her arm.

“Shut up.”

But your eyes drift toward him one more time. For some reason, he looks even more exhausted than usual. Dark circles shadow his eyes. His fingers move rapidly across the keyboard.

Probably working on your paper.

Good.

At least somebody was.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

The rest of class drags by painfully slowly.

Not because of the lecture. You aren't paying attention to that. You’re too busy checking the time every thirty seconds.

One glance at the clock.

One glance at your phone.

Repeat.

By the end of class, even Tiffany looks annoyed.

“For the love of God, stop checking.”

“I checked one time.”

“You checked six times in the last minute.”

You gasp dramatically.

“Wow. So now we’re counting?”

“Someone has to.”

Tiffany grabs both of your shoulders dramatically.

“We need a pre-date pep talk.”

You immediately groan.

“It’s not a date.”

“It is in my heart.”

“Tiffany.”

She completely ignores you.

“Okay, listen carefully.”

She points a finger at you like she’s about to deliver life-changing wisdom.

“Step one. Be nice.”

“I am nice.”

She gives you a look.

A long look.

“Okay, be nicer.”

“Whatever.”

“Step two. If he’s ugly in person, leave immediately.”

“Tiff!”

“I’m serious. Catfishing is a crime.”

“It’s literally not.”

“It should be.”

Despite yourself, you laugh.

“Step three.”

She squints at you.

“Flirt like your life depends on it.”

You stare. Then immediately burst out laughing.

“Well, that one was a no-brainer.”

“I’m serious. Your life does depend on this. He’s husband material.”

You both dissolve into laughter.

Eventually, she pulls you into a quick hug.

“Seriously though.”

Her expression softens.

“Be careful.”

You nod.

“I will.”

“And text me.”

“Obviously.”

“And if he tries to murder you—”

“You have my location.”

“Perfect.”

With that, she finally lets you go.

-ˋˏ✄- - - - - - ♡⁠

The café sat just off campus.

Close enough for students to flood it throughout the day, yet far enough away that it felt removed from the constant chaos of university life.

The walk there is surprisingly pleasant. Warm afternoon sunlight paints everything in shades of gold. Leaves dance across the sidewalk whenever a breeze passes through.

Cars drift lazily through nearby intersections while groups of students gather outside buildings, laughing and talking as they enjoy the afternoon.

The steady click of your heels echoes against the pavement. And with every step, your excitement grows.

Not nervous.

Definitely not nervous.

Excited.

That was all.

You were simply about to meet an insanely attractive man. Nothing more.

The café eventually comes into view. Large glass windows. Warm lighting. A small patio wrapped in ivy.

Every time someone opens the door, the scent of coffee and fresh pastries drifts into the street.

Cute.

You smooth down your skirt before stepping inside.

The bell above the entrance chimes softly. Immediately, warmth washes over you. The rich aroma of espresso. Vanilla syrup. Freshly baked bread.

Soft music hums overhead. Students occupy most of the tables, laptops open as they pretend to study.

Your eyes scan the room.

Searching.

Searching.

Searching—

And then they stop.

You begin walking toward his table. The closer you get, the more ridiculous he becomes. Long dark lashes. Strong jawline. Broad shoulders. Large hands that somehow make you momentarily forget what you were thinking about.

Sexy.

Extremely sexy.

You stop beside the table.

He looks up.

His eyes widen.

Just slightly. Weird.

You smile.

Then pull out the chair across from him and sit down.

The confusion on his face immediately deepens.

“What do you want?”

Your smile drops.

Excuse me?

For a second, you genuinely wonder if he’s talking to somebody behind you. You glance over your shoulder.

Nobody.

Just you.

You understood that you hadn't included a picture of yourself on your profile. You understood that you’d used a man’s name.

But did that warrant this level of unprovoked rudeness?

Absolutely not.

Slowly, your attention returns to him.

The beautiful stranger sitting across from you looks just as confused as you feel. His dark eyebrows are pulled together. Like you interrupted something important.

You blink.

“I’m sorry?”

“What do you want?” he repeats.

Okay.

Now you know he’s definitely talking to you.

Your eye twitches.

This has to be some kind of joke. You spent all morning getting ready. You wore your cutest outfit. You practically speed-walked to the café.

And this man greets you like you're trying to sell him life insurance. A disbelieving laugh escapes you.

“Wow.”

His confusion only deepens.

“What?”

“You could’ve started with hello.”

Now he looks completely lost. Like genuinely lost.

You stare at him.

He stares right back.

Neither of you says a word. The silence stretches.

And stretches.

And stretches.

Finally, you cross your arms.

“Okay, what is your problem?”

“My problem?” he repeats.

“Yes.”

You gesture between the two of you.

“You.”

His eyebrows shoot upward.

“Me?”

“Yes. You.”

The handsome stranger glances around the café as if searching for hidden cameras. Then his gaze lands back on you.

“I think you’re mistaken.”

Your jaw nearly drops.

“Mistaken?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he lowers his coffee cup.

You immediately reach for your phone.

“Okay.”

He watches cautiously.

“Okay what?”

You pull up the roommate website.

His eyes follow the movement.

“You requested to be my roommate.”

A beat passes. Nothing. Then another.

His eyes slowly lower to your phone. You watch confusion flash across his face. Then disbelief. Then something that almost looks horrifying. His eyes snap back to yours.

You frown.

“What?”

He just stares. Completely frozen. You glance between him and your phone. Then back again. The silence becomes unbearable.

Finally, he speaks.

Very slowly.

“You’re…”

His voice trails off.

“Yeah?”

He blinks.

Then blinks again.

Almost like he’s trying to wake himself up.

“You’re the apartment owner?”

Now it’s your turn to stare.

“Obviously?”

The word comes out far more offended than intended.

His eyes widen slightly.

Your eyes narrow.

Neither of you understands why the other is acting so weird.

“You thought I was somebody else?” you ask.

“You thought I was somebody else?” he asks at the exact same time.

Both of you stop.

Both of you stare.

Then simultaneously—

“What?”

The words collide.

You lower your voice.

“What do you mean you thought I was somebody else?”

His hand drags slowly down his face. For some reason, he suddenly looks exhausted.

“I just…”

His eyes briefly close before reopening.

“You don’t recognize me?”

You squint.

The question catches you completely off guard.

Should you?

You study him. Really study him. The long black hair. The tattoo. The sharp features. The broad shoulders.

Nothing.

You slowly shake your head.

“No?”

A strange look crosses his face.

Maybe annoyance.

Maybe disbelief.

Then he leans back in his chair and simply stares at you.

You stare right back.

And for the first time since sitting down, a small smile appears at the corner of his mouth. A smile that somehow makes him even more attractive.

“Wow.”

You narrow your eyes.

“What?”

He shakes his head.

Still smiling.

“Nothing.”

Immediately, you know he’s lying. And somehow, that’s even more annoying.

“Okay, now you’re definitely being weird.”

A quiet laugh escapes him.

The sound catches you completely off guard. For some reason, it sends an unexpected flutter through your stomach. And suddenly, you’re not entirely sure this meeting is going how you expected.

You open your mouth to argue when he glances down at his phone.

Then he looks back up.

“I’m almost finished with your research paper.”

You blink.

A beat passes. Then another.

Research paper.

Your research paper.

The words bounce around inside your head.

Your eyes slowly widen.

The color drains from your face.

“…What?”

Choso immediately looks confused.

“What?”

You stare.

He stares back.

The café suddenly feels very, very quiet.

Your brain begins connecting pieces together at an alarming speed.

The name.

Choso.

The strange way he looked at you when you sat down. Those familiar eyes.

Slowly, you point at him.

“No.”

His eyebrows pull together.

“No?”

“No.”

You continue staring.

He continues staring.

Neither of you speaks.

Then your jaw drops.

“You’re Choso?”

Immediately, he looks uncomfortable.

“The Choso in my Sociology class?”

His gaze drops to his coffee.

Then returns to you.

“…Yeah.”

You stare.

He fidgets with the sleeve of his shirt.

You stare harder.

He looks away first.

“Oh.”

You blink.

Choso winces slightly.

“What?”

“You are Choso.”

“That’s usually how names work.”

You stare at him.

He immediately looks embarrassed.

“Sorry.”

There he was.

The Choso you knew. Not mysterious. Not cool. Not smooth. Just awkward. Your eyes dart around his face. Then his hair. Then back to his face. Then back again.

Because there was absolutely no way.

“No.”

Choso sighs.

“Yes.”