*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Caught In The Act ~ 2!
[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)
⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆
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.
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
“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.
MY bitch: Where are you, I have it in the front quad?
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.
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.”
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.
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.”
“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—
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.
“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.
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.
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.
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.
“You know,” you continued thoughtfully while walking again, “none of this would’ve happened if you weren’t such a total perv.”
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.
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?”
“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.”
“Maybe you’ve known her for a long time?”
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.
His voice came out lower this time. Tighter. You stepped closer instinctively, amusement sparkling in your eyes.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
“Why are you smiling like that?”
“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.”
“And because shopping is fun.”
“And because humiliating Naoya Zenin is fun.”
Vicki stared at you silently for a long moment. Then—
“You literally flirted with him.”
“I heard you teasing him!”
“That was psychological warfare.”
Vicki burst into laughter so violently she almost fell off your bed.
“I am absolutely not into him,” you argued immediately, heat creeping up your neck anyway. “He’s annoying. And arrogant. And mean.”
You opened your mouth. Paused. Then narrowed your eyes.
“Shut up,” you groaned, throwing another pillow at her this time. “I do NOT like him.”
“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.”
You groaned loudly and flopped backward onto the bed, covering your face with both hands.
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.
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.
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.
Toji looked up from adjusting weights near the bench press.
“You look like absolute shit.”
Naoya gave him a tired dap before sighing deeply.
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.
The response came so fast Naoya almost dropped the bar.
“What? No. Why the hell would I do that?”
“Well there’s your problem.” He shook his head knowingly. “Obviously she wants some if she’s all over you 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.”
Toji slid the weights back onto the rack before glancing over at him curiously.
“Is she hot?” Naoya paused. Only for a second.
Toji immediately grinned.
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.
“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.
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.
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.
“Thanks,” Naoya muttered awkwardly, slipping his shoes off near the door.
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.
“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.
Naoya stared at you suspiciously for a second before reluctantly walking over and dropping into the chair.
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.
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.
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?”
One eyebrow lifted immediately.
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?”
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.”
“And I think you secretly like being ordered around.”
Naoya snorted under his breath.
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.
The words slipped out before Naoya could stop them.
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?”
“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.”
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.”
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.
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 looked over. “Sometimes.”
“I didn’t picture you doing anything besides bullying people online.”
“I’m multifaceted actually.”
You took another sip of your smoothie before nodding toward him.
“You have hobbies? Or do you just walk around campus terrorizing women full-time?”
Naoya looked offended for maybe half a second.
“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.”
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 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.”
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.
Your brain short-circuited for half a second.
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?”
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.
Naoya looks up at you immediately, eyes dark and unfocused.
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—
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.
“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?
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.
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!
gummygunk
titsay
areudirty
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines