“Oiiii..”

The ringing of Satoru’s deep sultry voice rang through your mind as you sat up promptly from your snow white desk, covered in sketches of designs and noted down measurements. Working as a designer for models was no easy task.

Especially with him as the main course, grabbing everyone’s attention the minute Satoru steps on that catwalk, paparazzi multiply like maggots, or at least that’s how he describes it. In fact it wasn’t surprising how that lean and toned body of his was kneeling on your desk now.

“You never answered my call sthis mornin-Oo…”

Satoru’s complaining was interrupted by the sight of the bold and attractive designs you had sketched—mens clothing was underrated, he could imagine the fame he’d get for wearing these expensive clothes. His rough, manly fingers picked up the sketches in between his fingers, looking at you with a smirk and a little bit of mild irritation. But he was playful with you as always.

“Ohh, these are good…you been holding out on me haven’t ya?”

His feelings toward you were admiration. Adoring. Despite being a total narcissist sometimes, in interviews he always made sure to credit your designs.