Work Text:
naoya has always been known in the industry, with his father being one of the most notorious models back in the day, he was set up for success. but his sudden spike in popularity came from partnering with a high-end fragrance company, becoming the face of the brand.
yet unlike his father, naoya was reckless.
coming from such a privileged and wealthy background, he sees himself as untouchable in a way—expressing all of his controversial opinions without any care in the world, the thought that it could be detrimental to his career never crosses his mind.
he’s the son of naobito zenin, and has practically been modelling since birth, so why would beliefs matter anyways? it’s not as if he was famous for public speaking or anything of the sort, his entire career is to just sit and look pretty.
with him growing more mainstream came the influx of new fans, people that weren’t aware of just how self centred and cruel he was discovered clips of interviews where he expresses those misogynistic views of his, and the clips don’t take long to start dominating the feed of every social media app.
but naoya didn’t care, he never intended to hide what he thought from the public—but this came with a price.
there were talks to end his partnership with the company.
after feeling the high of the fame and all the praise from his father, he couldn’t let it go, he had to do whatever it took to keep it going.
even if that meant sharing his spotlight with someone else, you.
he was to partner with another female model, someone not quite as popular as he was, but still relatively well known and respected within the industry.
safe to say he wasn’t happy about it, storming out of the meeting and destroying a nearby room, flipping tables and breaking numerous items in it, but that’s all he could do.
have a temper tantrum like the little boy he is.
-
you knew naoya zenin.
you knew from friends he was cocky,
you knew from headlines he was bold,
you knew from the moment you walked in to the shoot it wouldn’t be just any other day.
“this is what you bring me?” is the first thing you hear after an hour of having your hair tugged at, shaped to fall just the way they want it to.
you can already tell he’s going to be a nightmare to work with, pretentious assholes don’t usually do as they’re told. the only thing you can do is suck it up and try not to let him get to you, this is the biggest job you’ve done yet and you can’t afford to fuck it up.
“you. come here, let me look at you properly.” he shouts from across the room, you haven’t even got the chance to talk to any of the photographers and he’s already ordering you around like a dog.
you sigh, making your way over to him and speak before the opportunity for him to make another debilitating comment arrives, “listen. i’m here to work, nothing more. i don’t need any input from you, you aren’t the one calling the shots so i’d greatly appreciate it if we could keep our comments to ourselves, alright?”
“my, they picked a feisty one didn’t they?” he looks over to who you assume to be his agent,
he takes a deep breath before replying, “she’s right. behave.” the busy-looking man pays him no attention, zoned in on whatever is on his phone. he doesn’t say it as a warning, by the tone of his voice you can make an educated guess that this is naoya’s regular behaviour and his agent’s grown tired of it.
before he can conjure up some sort of argument a woman comes over to the two of you, “we’ll be starting shortly.” her voice is small and soft, like she’s afraid one wrong move and the man acting like he owns the place will crack and lash out on her.
discarding your robe on a nearby chair, you’re left in the tiniest of tops—the shoot is made to look like the two of you are naked, but since you’re only in frame from just above your breasts theres no reason to have your tits out, you’ve done a few topless shoots before so it’s not like you’d have an issue with it, but in this case you’re thankful.
naoya makes sure to take his time,
“gonna go take a leak.”
“coming to get a drink?”
“need some fresh air.”
the only person he addresses is his agent, but makes sure he’s heard by everyone. after he makes sure he’s the last to arrive he enters the room again, you think he must have a thing for being the center of attention at all times.
but you can see why he’s so admired, why even with his attitude women fall to their knees for him.
strolling in with his stupid beautiful body and his stupid beautiful face without a hint of respect for anyone that’s been waiting on him. it just pisses you off, why did such a perfect exterior have to be wasted on someone with such a rotten interior?
being a model yourself you notice things others wouldn’t, how his body has just the right amount of muscle—not too much nor too little, how his proportions are ideal, as if he was crafted by hand for this job.
you stand with your arms crossed as he makes no rush to walk over in front of the paper-white backdrop where you stand. the photographers don’t ease into it, giving you instructions before he’s even reached you.
“would you prefer we do solo shots and exclude you, naoya?” a mans voice cuts through them, you recognise him from the casting, he seems to share your dislike for the brat.
“relax, i’m here now aren’t i?” he laughs it off, but in reality he’s nervous.
he’s nervous because he’s become replaceable. he knows that the mans words are serious, this one is a warning. and not only that, he’s only ever done solo shoots before—refusing to work with anyone else because he had the freedom to pick and choose, and now it’s been ripped away from him.
you have ripped it away from him.
naoya shares your way of thinking, he knows you would be a fitting choice to take his place, he’s seen some of your work, recognised that you preform exceedingly well in front of the camera and it reflects in the results.
when it comes to modelling he can give credit where credit is due.
not like he’d ever say it out loud but he believes you are close to being “on his level” and from him, this is a big compliment.
you’ve been instructed to lay on the floor, head back, eyes shut. a woman comes over to manipulate the way your hair falls over your face, giving it that subtle messy look.
“now climb over her, put your tongue on the side of her neck.”
“not like a dog—yes like that.”
“your arms are too stiff, do something about it.”
“come on, chemistry, we need chemistry, look into the camera.”
the director throwing endless comments criticising naoya has a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but you fight it—if you were to be corrected it would ruin the show of that bastard getting put in his place.
he looks over to the computer to skim over the images, “yes, yes. very nice, just a few more then you two switch sides.”
while you seem completely unbothered with it all, naoya’s starting to actually get intoxicated with the smell of you, his tongue’s been glued there way too long and his nose is smushed against your neck, inhaling your pheromones, he fears that if he stays like this any longer he’ll pitch a tent.
hurrying over to you two,“switchswitchswitch, you—” he turns to naoya, “—take this.” he hands him a bottle of perfume, their latest release. “put it between your teeth.”
you slide back to allow him room to move, “you. take the cap off with your teeth.” he doesn’t need to give you any more orders, trusting that you’ll put your own spin on your body’s positioning.
you loom over naoya, arms leaving a narrow space between his head and your back in a deep arch. holding intense eye contact with him as you slowly pull the cap off with your teeth, making sure the camera catches everything.
how your noses aren’t even an inch from eachother, how the round shape of the cap accentuates the shape of your lips, and his intense piercing gaze. while you think nothing of it, naoya feels that the eye contact has become rather intimate.
“beautiful, BEAUTIFUL!” the director claps claps, “last one. i want you grabbing his chin with the bottle in your other hand, dangle it above him.” a woman rushes over with a stool for you to sit on, and you comply, jumping up onto it.
“and me? what am i doing?” naoya’s caught on to the fact he’s being addressed less and less, that familiar feeling of heat is starting to build up deep in his chest again.
“you’ll have your back turned, just follow her lead.” his words further crack at the thin line of naoya’s patience, he’s been here longer than you have, this whole thing started with him, the only reason you’re here is because of him, so just what the fuck is going on?!
he knows how to be in front of the camera so why is everyone treating him as if it’s his first day, sure he’s never done a co-shoot before but that shouldn’t matter, he’s naoya zenin.
“i’m naoya zenin.”
the thought replays in his mind over and over in an attempt to calm him down, if the stakes weren’t so high he surely would have exploded into a fit of rage by now.
so he does as instructed, thank god the camera isn’t facing him right now because all it would capture is the irritation in his face that he can’t seem to hide, but you notice. you think it’s pathetic the way he goes on.
the little boy didn’t get what he wanted and now he’s all whiny.
how saaaddd.
a few moments pass where all that can be heard are shutters of the camera and light chatter accompanied with the occasional direction.
“alright, we’re all do—“
the man doesn’t even finish his last word before naoya storms out of the room, grabbing his shirt on the way, with the force he picked it up with, if anyone was walking by it surely would have whipped them.
you roll your eyes at his childish behaviour and step off the stool, walking over to everyone and thanking them, the director being last.
“it was a pleasure to work with you.” you say, tying your robe around your waist.
“likewise. i can’t believe i never heard of you before this, your work is exceptional.”
“thank you sir.” you don’t say any more, it would benefit you to stay and chat with him a little while longer but you’re incredibly exhausted from today, naoya zenin is truly a walking headache.
-
when the photos release, it’s even worse for him.
sure it’s bettered his image, but the comments..
guest5318008: yes tame him
jazzy-y: i usually skip this part
nobama: who’s this abortion next to the hottie on my screen
—> yewji: which 1 is the abortion???
—> nobama: the m*n obviously
anon11037: she looks like she can put him in his place this is so hot
within the entire 40,000 comments about 80% of them are on par with those top 4. the other 20% are his “fanboys” but he doesn’t scroll far enough to see them defending his name as if he was some sort of hero who saved their family from a burning building, already dialling his agent’s number.
the anger he feels is only heightened by the amount of time it’s taking him to pick up the phone, pacing around the room with heavy steps—and when his agent does eventually answer he doesn’t even get the chance to greet him.
“have you SEEN what they’re saying about me?! “put him on a leash”? THE ONLY DOG IM SEEING IS THE BITCH NEXT TO ME.”
his agent tries to reason with him,
“naoya calm down.”
naoya’s face scrunches up at the audacity he believes his agent has to tell him to “calm down” in this situation, “you want me to be calm—“
before naoya can go on another tangent he butts in, “it’s good press and apparently sales have skyrocketed, suck it up. you’ll definitely be working with her from now on.”
“FUCK the press, fuck you, fuck her, FUCK ALL THIS SHIT!” is his way of saying goodbye.
your reaction couldn’t be any more different, the campaign did wonders for you.
you’ve gained so much attention that your phone nearly stopped working due to the insane amount of notifications you were getting, what once was a practically empty and unreliable schedule is now packed.
-
somehow naoya’s agent managed to get through to him, convincing him to do a segment for a “celebrities read mean tweets” video.
naoya’s frustration has died down a little, he says he’s only doing this so that he can express his opinion on the whole situation without it coming off too strong.
and so as he sits on the stool infront of the brick wall of the recording studio, you swear you can feel the waves of annoyance radiating off him. “hi naoya.” you simply say.
“dont talk to me. we’re here to work, right? isn’t that what you said?” he reiterates, giving you a mean look.
“we’re co-workers now, thought we could try and get along?” you giggle, knowing that not one part of him likes this and he definitely didn’t appreciate the new version of attention he’s getting, in fact he would prefer the hate from before—that didn’t bother him at all.
“i will never “get along” with you.”
he says through gritted teeth.
“picked a feisty one didn’t they?” you mock him, lowering your voice.
“i do not sound like that.”
“you so do.”
a producer comes and hands you one phone between the two of you, so you inch your chair closer to his—resulting in a scoff from him.
a woman tells you two that they’re recording, and to start whenever you’re ready.
naoya of course reads the first one, in the most monotone voice you’ve ever heard.
“naoya zenin is a piece of sh*t. no one should feel anything in their ovaries for him.”
you cackle and he turns to you—completely straight faced, then does a slow turn to the camera, “a piece of shit that gets more b*tches than you do.”
holding back your laughter at his cringy reply you take the phone from him to read the next one, “they look good with eachother, i feel like she’s the type to shut up and take it.”
your mouth opens wide and you sit there in shock for a moment, “i am NOT. this is an insult to me and feminism as a whole.”
“yeah, you’re wrong, “user42069” she’s a pain in the *ss.” strangely, him sticking up for you warms your heart, maybe it was just the shock of him being (sort of) nice to you for once.
“crop the bum out next time” he sounds like he reads at a 3rd grade level. “this one?” he points to you, which earns him an eye roll.
“why is this girl trending? her t*ts weren’t in the photos.” you already knew naoya was going to laugh at this one so it doesn’t come as a shock when he does, you pay him no mind.
“i’m not that type of model. p*rnhub is free if you can still get it up.”
“as if they would watch even if you were.” he’s enjoying himself a little too much for your liking, you thought he would be boiling with rage right now.
“im sure they would love to see you as a c*m dump.”
“CUT!” a man shouts, “can we please stop being so vulgar? this is going to be a lot of editing and bleeping.”
“sorry.” you two say in unison, a moment passes and you both suddenly break into a fit of laughter.
its one of those belly laughs where you each look at the other persons face and it only makes it funnier, you have to hold onto his knee for balance and he has to grip the back of your stool.
everyone is watching with the most tired and fed up expressions on their faces, you both try and collect yourselves but it doesn’t go away, if anything it only makes you laugh harder.
eventually both of you manage to calm down, your breathing is unsteady from the lack of air in your lungs, your faces are all red and theres tears in your eyes.
the producers talk amongst themselves and decide four tweets are enough as you’ll be put in a compilation anyways, not bothering with a break to let your faces go back to normal.
you two exit the recording studio together, you’ve just embarrassed yourselves to no end but it doesn’t seem so bad, looks like you’re acting normal co workers for the first time. “that seemed like “getting along” to me.” you tease, nudging his elbow
at your action he immediately steps away further than necessary, “you called me a cum dump.”
“i did NOT. i said they would like to see you as a cum dump.” you giggle, taking the keys from your pocket and unlocking your car.
“yada yada, i’m waiting for my own personal driver, enjoy driving that busted thing.” he stops in front of the parking lot.
“never learned how to drive just like how you never learned to tie your laces?” you have to shout now since he’s stopped walking and you still are.
“can that shitty thing even start?” he retorts, not even denying your comment about his shoelaces.
“can your penis even start?” you respond as quickly as he did, and he’s thankful no one else seems to be around because you’re getting increasingly louder.
“not for you, bitch!” he seems to think he’s the funniest person to step foot on this earth, laughing at his own joke.
“wouldn’t want it to, 2 inch-pinch!”
you got the last word in, slamming your car door shut and speeding off in the other direction.
-
life couldn’t get any better for you right now, you’re drowning in money, fame, dms from famous athletes and recently received an invite to a premiere of one of the most anticipated movies of the year, starring actors like yuki tsukumo and choso kamo.
the only issue is you’ll be accompanied by that shit for brains ken doll.
naoya himself doesn’t know why he was invited, choso is one of the lead actors in the film and he told you they “didn’t get along well.” he was very adamant about not telling you what had happened, so naturally you were intrigued.
with some research you found that choso faced assault charges that were later dropped for nearly killing the guy, and naoya is the one who had it all covered up, or attempted to at least.
you don’t press him on it. if he went through all that effort to get it covered up he’s not going to be telling you of all people what the story behind it was.
ever since naoya got your number from his agent he’s been calling more often than someone who claims to dislike you should. it’s always irrelevant too, him shit talking other models or the latest gossip on all the celebrities you won’t find online, despite shitting on women all the time he acts an awful lot like a girl.
you let him rant to you because it did interest you at first, but its grown into the “did you know suguru geto owns a pet monkey?” kind of gossip that can’t even be counted as gossip. most of the time you keep him on speakerphone while you do laundry and whatnot, “mhm.” “yeah.” “uh-huh.” is all that can be heard from your end of the line.
although naoya doesn’t realise it himself, you’re the only one he can talk to about this kind of stuff. the only one he can just ‘chat with’ and it’s no ones fault but his own. sure he has people he’d call friends but they all tend to keep him at a distance, and those who would pick up his phone calls he sees as below him, not worthy of his time.
he’s respected, not liked. he is aware of this, in fact he prefers it this way. he believes it’s more beneficial to be feared than admired, this is what he believes to be his own reasoning for talking to you so often. he doesn’t necessarily care for your opinion on him, whether you like him or not—it’s all the same to him.
“so what are you wearing to the premiere? don’t say white, it brings out all those blemishes you have.” this is another one of those instances where he was babbling on and on while you used him as background noise.
“i’m not sure yet. why?” you’ve both gotten used to the digs you throw at one another now, it’s similar to when you hear the words “i love you” too often it becomes less of something special and more of a courtesy of some sort.
“why do i have to have a reason for everything? i can’t just be curious?”
“you just gave me a reason. you’re curious. quit getting so mad all the time, i spotted a few greys the last time i seen ya y’know.” the fun you have bantering with him outweighs the annoyance you feel talking to him most of the time, so you put up with it.
living alone in your new fancy sky high apartment and not in a crammed mouldy one not with 2 other roommates still has its downsides.
you begin to miss the chaos so naoya’s always there to bring it right back, except you can technically kick him out whenever you feel like it since all it takes is the push of the “end call” button.
you could say you’re “getting along” now.
-
and the man has managed to ruin your day by 7am.
ruin may be an exaggeration, but its the day of the movie premiere and you had a plan, and he’s gone and fucked it up.
he’s hired a hairstylist, a makeup artist, and even a goddamn photographer.
the three of them are awkwardly sat in your living room as you whisper-shout down the phone to naoya, “care to explain why 3 strangers have been paid money to come to my house?”
his voice is groggy, like he’s just woken up. good, you don’t want him to be well-rested if you’re not either, “it’s a gift.” is all he says.
“a gift? i am capable of doing all these things myself, and i’d rather it that way—also, when the fuck did you start giving gifts? it’s nowhere near christmas so why’re you all fucking jolly?” you question him, hoping none of your “guests” can hear you through the thin walls of your bathroom.
“sure doesn’t look like it—“ you can tell he’s got an equally smug face to match that smug tone he’s using with you.
“naoya stop playing around, i’m pissed off, this day is already stressful enough and—“
he doesn’t let you finish, as someone who goes off on tangents quite often himself, he knows you won’t be shutting up anytime soon. “yeah so obviously you get some stress taken off you because you don’t have to do everything yourself.”
“you hired a photographer. i have a phone. with a camera.” it’s like he went out of his way to make your morning as overwhelming as he possibly could.
“sounds like you’re an ungrateful bitch to me.” he’d be lying if he said your dislike of his ‘gift’ didn’t bother him, “my bad i didn’t want to walk down the red carpet with you looking a mess—people talk, ya know?”
“when i get my hands on you i’ll rip your—“
“before i go, i sent someone to drop off a few dresses in case your fashion choices weren’t so..sophisticated. bye bye now.” as if three wasn’t enough, theres now another ring at your doorbell straight after the line went dead, the timing was perfect and it only heightened the resentment you felt towards him in that moment.
-
after many torturous hours you’re finally alone in your home. you got the person dropping off all the clothing out as fast as possible, taking the bags and slamming the door shut—told the photographer to leave in the nicest way you possibly could and got both the hairstylist and makeup artist to do the simplest things they could.
your career came with years of getting photographed, having your hair pulled at, brushes beating your face. this didn’t feel like some sort of way to relax for you and he should know that.
you both work in the same industry, so he’s also had to experience the feeling of getting pampered grow into feeling more like a chore.
you don’t bother thinking about him any longer, what’s really important is deciding on a dress to wear, you originally planned on wearing something cute and simple, it was a dress you wore a few months back to a friends wedding that was quite fancy so it did the job.
but naoya has sent over the most elegant dresses you’ve ever seen, you sort of wish you didn’t give into him so easily and just wore what you had previously picked out, but how can you when your standing in this beautiful black dress?
it’s nothing too extravagant, after all you don’t care for being the center of attention like a certain someone—but it fits like a glove, it’s floor length so it accentuates your shape and you don’t think your waist has ever looked this small.
with a few finishing touches, you’re all ready to go. now you just have to wait on naoya (his driver) to come and pick you up.
10 minutes pass, then 20, then 30. at this rate you’ll miss getting to walk down the red carpet—it’s always been a dream of yours so if he fucks it up the first thing he’ll be seeing is the pointy heel of your louboutins.
and when you’re just about to give up on the guy and call an uber, he texts saying he’s outside.
great timing but you still tear the head off him from across the parking lot, “just WHAT exactly could have taken you so long?!”
“shuut uup.” he groans, throwing his head back. he’s dressed in an all black suit, black shirt with the top button undone too.
it looks as if the two of you matched on purpose, this only adds to the list of reasons you have to be pissed off at him right now, in fact you’re so pissed off you can’t form a witty comeback, your anxiety is already through the roof and the few confidence shots you did earlier don’t seem to be helping much.
any normal man would fall to his knees and have hearts in his eyes over the way you look right now, but naoya zenin is not a normal man, he doesn’t even open the car door for you.
what he does say when you two are in the backseat is that you look “acceptable.” and that he’s glad you chose one of the dresses he sent over instead of a “dragged up piece of rag.”
you somehow forgot just how irritating he can be when you’re not in the mood to go back and forth with him, so you keep quiet for the entire car ride despite his numerous comments saying that you have a “stick up your ass.”
what felt like the longest 30 minutes of your life had gone by and you are finally at the venue, entering and about to walk down that red carpet you dreamed of all these years.
your legs shake with every step you take, you’re so nervous you feel like you could drop at any moment—and then you catch sigh of naoya with his arm bent, waiting for you to hold on to it.
you’ll never hear the end of this if you take it, but what other choice do you have? stumble down the red carpet and make a fool of yourself or suck it up and grab onto him, the choice is obvious.
you walk down slowly, stopping to pose for photos every couple steps while photographers shout “over here, over here!” you start to ease up a little, it’s the same as any other shoot, just with a lot more noise and a lot more cameras.
and naoya looks like he’s born for it, he loves the constant blinding flashing lights and the hollering—you’re not surprised he thrives in chaos.
reaching the end of it, theres an overwhelming amount of people wanting to interview you two, sure you both gained immense popularity over the last few weeks but you’ve only done one shoot together so far, what could there be to ask about?
“please tell us, are you two a couple?”
oh yeah. that.
“no.” you and naoya say it perfectly in sync, it almost makes you laugh—but any sort of positive reaction to a question like this would cause rumours, people on the internet analyse everything.
“and how did your immense rise in popularity affect you?” the interviewer points the microphone back to you and him.
naoya scoffs at the question, “i’ve been popular my whole life.”
“it’s good. a little stressful but it really does come with it’s positives.” you answer truthfully, instead of giving some bullshit answer like he did.
the man opens his mouth to ask another question but naoya is already pushing you away with a hand on the small of your back, “we’re going, talking will only get us in trouble.” he leans down to whisper in your ear.
“speak for yourself, big mouthed cunt.” you so badly want to scream at him right now but with all the cameras still following you it’s a wise decision not to.
who does he think he is making decisions for you? decisions that could better your career. just because he gets in shit every time he opens that fat gob of his doesn’t mean you will.
in the midst of you practicing exactly what you’ll say to him once you find a quiet corner, you spot the stars of the event—yuki tsukumo and choso kamo.
and they seem to be heading your way.
yuki is anyway, she approaches you with unbelievable confidence, “i just wanted to come and say hi! i’ve loved you since like, forever!”
“me?” you don’t mean to blurt that out, but it would come as a shock to anyone that she’s a fan of you. sure you’re known, but before all of this it was mainly only other models that would admire you. to have one of the most famous actors in the country even acknowledge your existence seems mind blowing to you.
“yeah! your photo for victoria’s secret was beautiful, practically fell in love.” she replies, you aren’t even into women but you swear you can feel your cheeks heat up just being in her presence. the shoot she’s talking about was a group one, with 4 other girls so you’re even more surprised she’d plucked you out from the crowd.
looking behind her and spotting choso leads you to turn your head around to naoya, finding him looking like a kicked puppy.
something in your gaze must have triggered him because he storms off without warning, leaving you stood there awkwardly with yuki and choso who witnessed the whole thing. nontheless you continue your conversation with her as if nothing had happened.
you engage in small talk for a while before you decide its time to collect your puppy, you need to make sure he’s not gone off the rails before the screening starts.
as you’re searching every corner of the venue for him you begin to wonder why you even care if he’s doing or has done something stupid.
he’s caused you nothing but trouble all day and by looking for him it’s like inviting the chaos right back in, so you give up and decide to head to the bathroom before you go into the screening, the halls are beginning to empty out and everyone’s already making their way over to where it’s showing.
turning the corner into the empty hallway leading to the bathroom you spot none other than naoya zenin. your life has to be some sort of comedy you aren’t aware of, once you’ve abandoned your search for him now he decides to pop up, great.
“i was looking for you ya know.” the annoyance in your voice couldn’t be hidden even if you tried.
“do i look like i’d care what you chose to do with your time?”
the way he says it is unusual. it’s not how he sounds bantering with you, it’s not how he sounds picking you apart, it’s not how he sounds trying to make a fool of you. his voice is laced with what can only be described as pure hatred.
you think maybe you’re looking into it too much, “what’s got your panties in a twist? i’m the one pissed at—“
“god, do you ever shut up?! it’s one thing after another with you—actually, you know what, i wouldn’t expect anything else from the likes of you. you’re nothing but a ditzy whore who thinks she’s got it all figured out now that you’ve got a bit of fame piggybacking off of me. everything you have is because of me.”
he doesn’t stutter, not once does he slip up—it’s as if he’s got the whole thing practiced and was waiting for the chance to say it to your face.
normally you would’ve gave it right back to him, but you’re at a loss for words.
you knew naoya zenin was cocky, you knew he was bold, you knew he was a spoiled, arrogant, selfish, disgusting piece of misogynistic shit.
so why are you shocked?
what, just because you two were all buddy-buddy for a few weeks all of that went away? you stand frozen for a while before your throat manages to let out a quiet mumble of “what the fuck?”
“just what the fuck has gotten into you naoya?”
he visibly has to collect himself before he answers you, “you wanna know whats gotten into me? you. you’re everywhere and i’m sick of it, i’m sick and tired of it.” his answer does nothing but confuse you.
your face twists trying to process whatever he’s getting at, “will you quit fucking around and tell me instead of making me solve puzzles?! of course i’m going to be everywhere, we work together—“
him constantly cutting you off raises your frustration to a level you don’t think it could go.
“that’s not what i mean you incompetent bitch, i don’t think you’d get it even if—“
so you do it right back, instead of cutting him off with words you grab him by the collar of his shirt and use the other hand to twist and pinch his ear as you drag him into the bathroom. “will you ever just—ngh cop the fuck on?!” your voice is strained as you focus all your strength into one last push, he stumbles into the dark marble sink as you let him go.
“just who do you think you are pushing me around?! i could have you needing stitches in a matter of seconds so don’t try get physical with me ever again unless you have a death wish.” he says, steadying himself with two hands on the back of the counter.
you scoff at his reply, “sure didn’t seem like it—you could’ve fought back. what, are you too scared to hit a woman even after all that talk?”
“quite the opposite actually. im just dying to put you in your place, remind you where you stand in this society.”
his words anger you more than expected, you practically pounce onto him, caging him in with your body as he instinctively attempts to pull back against the sink. “why don’t ya fucking try it then?! i’d rather be DEAD than have to listen to another second of your bullshit anyways.”
his eye twitches and his hands ball up into fists as he shakes beneath you. the room falls silent for a moment—glaring into his eyes you wait for his response and he can’t seem to conjure one up.
and then you feel it, you feel something twitch against your leg through your dress. you swear you must be imagining things so you study his face, theres a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead to his furrowed brows, his cheeks are an unusual colour for someone in a freezing cold bathroom.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” you gasp, feeling his erection against your thigh has you pulling back so fast you nearly fall over, but naoya reaches out to catch you, holding a strong grip on your hand.
“THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME—YOU JUST—you don’t know what you’re talking about!” as soon as you steady yourself he releases his grip on your arm and hides his hand behind his back, avoiding your gaze.
“OH ALRIGHT, CAUSE IM JUST IMAGINING THE TENT IN YOUR PANTS, AM I?” you place your head in your hands, eyes wide and completely dumbfounded—not only at his reaction but yours too. feeling his thick, hard cock against you has heat pooling in your stomach and you hate every part of it.
he not only had the audacity to demean you earlier, but to also enjoy it when you did it back. asshole. “will you be quiet?” he hushes you, “it’s not my fault you’re going around acting like some prostitute—pushing yourself up against me..”
“and thats all it takes? really? god, i hate you.” you chuckle, you can’t believe this is real anymore.
“really? cause i bet you’re dripping for me right now.”
and thats sentence snaps you right back to reality, “w-what?! you’re disgusting.” it comes out less stern than you intended it to.
“i meant it as a joke, but judging by your reaction i’m not wrong. sick freak.” he takes slow steps towards you and you unconsciously step back as a result.
you’ve now cornered yourself, he’s got you back against the door of the bathroom stall. “you don’t get to call me that! you got turned on by us fighting!” you argue.
“so tell me you don’t want it.” he pins you against the door with just his hips, “tell me you don’t want this and i’ll walk out like nothing ever happened.”
how has he managed to flip this on you?
you can’t seem to deny him. your brain tells you this is a bad decision and that you shouldn’t—but fuck it.
your body wants him.
“this doesn’t mean anything.” you warn him before pulling him into a kiss. it’s messy, all teeth and tongue but neither of you care.
you wrap your arm around the back of his neck to tug on his hair, earning you a groan from him that you swallow down—in turn he bites down on your bottom lip, clenching it between his teeth and dragging it down before licking the wound.
his rough hands feel like they’re everywhere all at once, on your neck, your breasts, your waist, your back. it’s like he’s intoxicating.
without warning he grabs a hold of your ass, lifting you up and causing the fabric of your dress to bunch up above your knees, “you’re going to rip it.” you say, breaking the kiss.
“my property anyways. i’ll get you a new one.” he doesn’t give you a chance to answer, diving right back in as he simultaneously switches from holding you with two hands to just one, using the other to fumble with the stall door attempting to pry it open.
“goddamnit.” he hisses, pulling away from your lips once again so he can turn his head toward the door and find the lock. you don’t miss out on the opportunity, attatching your lips to his neck—licking and biting.
he finally manages to open it, making quick work of getting inside and locking it. now he can focus all of his attention back to you, he uses those two strong hands to hoist you up even further and has your back against the wall, legs wrapped around his hips with your soaking pussy pressing against his now throbbing erection.
it’s now his turn to lick and bite at your neck, sucking a dark purple mark on the right side. “remind you of anything?” he asks.
instantly you catch on that he’s referring to your photoshoot, the very first position where he had to have his tongue glued to your neck, “mhmm.”
“i’ve been wanting to do that again.” he admits, starting to grind his clothed dick through the damp fabric of your thong—sure to leave a wet patch on those expensive suit pants.
you would follow his rhythm with your own hips if you could, but the fact he’s got you mid-air and you’re relying on him to support you makes it unlikely.
all you can do is whine every time that large bulge catches your clit perfectly and you’re left aching for more, leaning your head to the side with your hands tightly gripping his shoulders. “i hate you so much.” you don’t mean a single word.
“believe me when i say i hate you more.” and then he lets you down, nothing about it is graceful, he just frees you from his grasp and keeps a hand under you incase you fall.
once he’s confirmed you’re able to stand his hands fly to his pants and he messily attempts to free himself from them, fumbling with the zipper then his belt. he’s in such a hurry he seems to have forgotten how to undress himself.
you’re tired of waiting, your pussy is begging for attention and you wont sit here for 5 minutes unattended to while he tries to whip his dick out. prying his hands off of his lower half, you undo his belt smoothly and look up at him before moving on.
he’s looking down at you with the most smug expression you’ve ever seen, “look at you, acting all innocent when in reality you’re a needy slut.” he cocks his head up, urging you to continue.
“couldn’t even take your own pants off on your own with how eager you were to have your dick inside me, and i’m the needy slut?” you retort, undoing the button on his pants moving a hand down to squeeze his shaft.
he loses it then, he’s so pent up he can feel precum just oozing out of his tip, staining his boxers with just a simple gesture. his body twitches and in one move he’s managed to get you bent over, palms against the stall door and ass in the air.
it all happened so quick you didn’t even register it, and now he’s hiking your dress up the furthest it can go, revealing your bare ass and those drenched panties of yours to him.
letting his pants pool at his ankles he drags his boxers down along with them, his angry cock on full display. you turn your head back and find him stroking it, the flushed red tip leaking precum as he glides his fist up and down. “don’t even need to prep you do i? let’s check.”
the unoccupied hand snakes under your panties and he runs two fingers through your slick folds, causing you to gasp at the sudden contact you’ve been dying for. “mm, just as i thought. soaked.”
you arch further, chasing more friction but he denies it—quickly pulling his fingers away and using them to hook your thong to the side instead, exposing your warm, sopping wet cunt to the cold air of the bathroom. the feeling instinctively causes you to clench around nothing, you’re only reminded of how empty you feel.
sliding his dick in between your folds to use your arousal as lube soothes the feeling only slightly as the ridge of his tip brushes over your clit perfectly—but you’re still empty.
naoya grabs onto the bottom of his shaft and slaps it against your pussy,
plap! plap! plap!
“hear that? hear how messy you got?” he chuckles.
his question turns out to be rhetorical as he doesn’t give you the opportunity to answer, feeling his tip pushing into you leaves your thoughts blank.
you both let out a shuddering breath as his cock inches deeper and deeper into you, feeling your tight walls squeezing around him struggling to accommodate his size has naoya biting back a whine.
your head droops lazily as he begins to thrust into you, it feels as though your neck can’t support your head any longer and unnecessary bodily functions are shutting down with the state of pure ecstasy you’re in.
he accelerates his thrusts at the sight of you, your body moving forward and backward at a faster pace than before causes you to crane your neck back up so you don’t end up paralysed, “fuck—you trying to kill me?”
“always.” the hand not yanking your panties to the side delivers a harsh slap to your ass, the burning sting eliciting a high pitched moan from you.
“quiet now, you wouldn’t want anyone to hear would you?” your walls clench around his length at his words, unfortunately for you it doesn’t go unnoticed.
“you really are a sicko, shiit. bet you’d just love it if someone were to walk in and find you bent over for me like this huh?” the force in which he’s snapping his hips grows stronger, and the erotic scene he’s just described plants an image in your head that has your pussy drooling even more than it already was.
with every movement a loud squelch! can be heard coming from your cunt, combined with the uneven breaths from the two of you—the noises filling the room are just filthy. if anyone were to even pass by they would be able to tell what was going on, you hope you don’t end up on some sort of list.
naoya’s the loudest out of everything, his grunts and groans only come out louder as a result of him trying to hold them back. you knew he had a thing for being the center of attention, but even while he’s balls deep? really?
those heavy balls of his smack against your clit as his hips continue to piston in and out of you. he feels them tighten, threatening to release his fat load into you—and he’s not ready to cum just yet.
he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back to look at you, you already look so fucked out he almost thinks it was a mistake to look into those heavy eyes of yours—it didn’t help ground him one bit, but it’s worth it, he won’t ever forget the sight in front of him.
your tits bounce with every thrust, theres drool at the corner of your lips that curl into a smile upon meeting his eyes and feeling the pain from him pulling at your hair. “haah..naoyaa..” you whine, an overwhelming amount of pleasure is coursing through your body now.
“gonna cum?” he’s wearing that smirk you’ve grown to love on his face, “go on then, cum in the bathroom stall like the—ngh filthy little whore you are.” he punctuates it with another harsh yank of your hair.
“fuuck youuu..!” you cry out, your orgasm has your walls fluttering around him and your eyes rolling to the back of your head, vision going all static-like.
your mean words, your face and the feeling of his dick getting squeezed by your walls, it all has cum shooting out of his cock like it won’t ever stop. coming out in waves as he delivers a few weak thrusts, riding the high.
“feel better now, asshole?”
“much better. slut.”
-
after that, you and naoya kept sleeping together.
in the changing rooms,
in the studio bathroom between breaks,
in your apartment,
in his apartment,
everywhere. you always told each other it didn’t mean anything, but as time went on..
THE DREASLV TIMES
DESPITE THEIR PREVIOUS COMMENTS DENYING A RELATIONSHIP, THE TWO HOTTEST MODELS OF THE YEAR HAVE BEEN SPOTTED LOOKING QUITE COZY!
READ ALL ABOUT IT HERE ON THE DREASLV TIMES!
“you seein’ this shit? looking cozy? look at the one where you’re eating my head off.” naoya turns his phone toward you.
“you look terrible in those photos.” you chuckle, getting comfortable on top of him, the bed shifting under your weight.
“think we should just tell them already? everyone already kinda knows..” he trails off.
“are you stupid? wait for the next launch so we can get sales up, obviously.”
“only around you, woman.”