#reverie couture

[vikkates]

New pieces I would like The Princess of Wales to add to her wardrobe (1,221/?)  

Gown by Reverie Couture

I love a good cape, and I really love the uniqueness of this one.

Available here.

[pattyblom]

The Atelier fall 2024 'Luminous reverie' collection

[embroideryobsession]

Elie Saab F/W 2016-2017

[costumeloverz71]

REVERIE COUTURE SS011

[innerbeautyfashion]

[evermore-fashion]

The Atelier Couture 'Luminous Reverie' Fall 2024 Haute Couture Collection

[chandelyer]

The Atelier 'Luminous Reverie' fall 2024 couture

[iznsfw]

Ms. Kang Hyewon

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

9,122 words

Categories | femdom, mommy kink, degradation, angry sex, choking

Content warning | blackmail, degradation, Hyewon isn't so innocent here

Well, well, well, look who came back with Day 3.

My promise remains. Expect more, but on separate days. I won't run away with your money like a certain pre-

Thread isn’t claustrophobic. It slips through spaces not even your fingernail could pierce apart. Effortlessly, too. It isn’t afraid of being knotted up. It just needs guidance: a pinch to lead it through the eye and a pull to seam it through the hem. 

You wish you wielded the same fearlessness. It’s thinner and more fragile than you (highly debated) yet it’s hardened to its life. The only thing you’re granted as a similarity to it is the need for guidance, not all of that shit about courage. 

Maybe that’s why you became a fashion designer. 

Needles have their own strengths, too. They’re not cowards to inflicting pain for aesthetics. Why do you think they stab so effortlessly through fabric and silk and skin and whatnot? They sharpen themselves through softness, and all that edge goes straight into the process.

And sometimes, your fingers.

“Fuck.” Your reverie is broken at last. From your thumb, a trail of red leaks. You’re used to the minor cuts and wounds, but the blood really does something to you. It reminds you of how fragile human anatomy is. One uncalculated move can end it all. 

“You good?” asks Eunbi. 

Suck on your thumb. A metallic taste settles over your tongue. She peers at you curiously; wave your hand at her dismissively to tell her it’s fine. This is everyday for you, like you said. Your heart will pump anxiously but that goes away, too. It’s all a vestige of time.

Flatten the vest top on the table. Wait, it’s not exactly a top yet if fringes of thread splay from the edges. You still have to work on that. Nothing is something when it’s not completed. It’s either you finish it grandly or leave it in pathetic tatters. 

“You sure you're okay?”

“Just a little nervous,” you reply. 

“I mean,” Eunbi laughs as she fixes her short hair into a ponytail, “she is Kang Hyewon.”

Not that she needs to remind you. Your nerves are in a wreck already. You’ve been replaying the pros of the situation in your head like a favorite song. Working for Hyewon would look good in your resumés. If time sees fit, you’d have your own line and everyone would want to wear it. Your name could be a staple of fashion, the god of gods. Something like that.

It only sucks that you’re painfully new to this world. This is the first time you’re this far from your family and friends. Seoul’s a far cry from your humble town. It’s the home of everything that matters. Nights of staying up drawing and designing couldn’t harden you for an industry that sways and shakes out the unfit.

This is your chance to find out if you’re one of them.

“The superstar who’s about to wear my shitty clothes.”

“They’re anything but shitty. You have seriously good ideas.” Always, Eunbi comes in to reassure you. That’s why you see her as a mentor. “She wouldn’t turn down wearing couture if she didn’t see potential in what you make.”

See, you would never have agreed to any of this. You’re a fresh graduate from some fashion school, and the only models you’ve worked on are the runway rejects. Fixing a sloppy first draft on a stick-thin, soulless girl is different from designing and dressing up Kang Hyewon. 

She’s everything—model, actress, singer, and idol. She’s a gem for every brand out there. They’re all dying to get her to be their ambassador. Every director with a complete brain wants to cast her for their new drama. 

And it’s her who can lift you to heights in your career. So you’d be an idiot not to seal the deal.

“Have you worked with her before?”

As your needle sews a story of fabric, Eunbi’s words whittle her story with Hyewon. Turns out, this is only her second time working with the star. She confirms that Hyewon is truly gorgeous in person with those god-given full lips and hardset eyes. 

Apparently, first impressions are right after all when it’s with her—she’s a silent, withholding woman who doesn’t talk outside of necessity. Eunbi tells you her nerves were in knots the first time, but also informs you that as long as you do your job for her properly, there isn’t gonna be any problem.

“Just be careful in what you do and say,” Eunbi whispers. She peeks over at your nearly finished piece. “That’s turning out really nice, by the way.”

“Thanks.” 

Look proudly at your handiwork. It’s a sleeveless top fashioned from denim, with a V-shaped curve at the stomach. You’ve attached strips of more denim on the front that are sewn on with threads that match the blue of the ocean, embedded into the chest to prevent dullness. You think it’s turning out pretty good, too.

You would’ve gone on smiling if it weren’t for what you remembered. “Wait, why do I have to be careful?”

“She’s not, like, shy or anything. Just really unfiltered when it comes to feedback. She told me the eyeliner I did on her was shit, and that I shouldn’t come back if I planned on doing that again.”

Doubts about the beauty of your design rise. It might look good in your eyes, but what if it doesn’t in hers? She’d probably see the lack of color and call it a monstrosity. She’s got the type of power to get away with brutal words, to leave your little self-confidence in pieces.

The leg-hugging jeans and vest now look painfully average to you. There’s no debating that she’d look good in it, but there’s that constant back-and-forth argument in your head about whether or not Hyewon would like it. 

“Were you hurt?” you ask.

Eunbi wipes red lipstick from the edges of her mouth with the mirror’s reflection as guidance, then smiles. “She’s the kind of woman I’d let do more than hurt me.”

-

You don’t know what that was about, but you’re not one to pry. You don’t have the time anyway.

Assistants have poured into the room. It’s your sign to put in more work—their arrival means that Hyewon is about to come very soon. They’re all dressed in their uniforms, the kind that looks good but not too good that it takes away the fact that they’re just staff. 

Eunbi shifts her weight from one stiletto to another. “Are you done?” she asks. She gazes over at your sewing as she taps anxious rhythms on the vanity table. Notice how she’s taken off her acrylics and in turn shows her cruelly bitten fingernails. 

You huff. “I’m trying.” 

Stick a red-studded pin through the denim to keep the vest in place. What shade of blue did you use again? Staring for lengthy minutes at your messy table doesn’t help you find it. Your chalks have left pink powder on the wood. Your threads are unspooled and everywhere. In the midst of it all, the star’s vest sits, still waiting to be finished. 

“She’s getting here in five!” Yena shouts.

“Any updates there?” Eunbi says pleadingly to you, eyes full of tears.

“I said I’m trying, Eunbi.”

“Then try harder, fuck!” 

Her hands have abandoned their rhythms and are squeezed up into tiny, helpless fists. She keeps peeking out of the dressing room as if she’d die on the spot if Hyewon were there already. This is the first time you’ve seen Eunbi this beside herself. Even her crew is shocked. Her fear infects them too and now all sets of scared eyes are on you. They’re depending on your speed for their careers. If you fall short, they fall short, too. It’s a domino effect of failure. 

Yena pushes aside the hangers of clothing to frisk for the makeup kit. Chaeyeon has her hands in her air while Minju whimpers behind her. They all know one thing for sure: you’re never gonna finish on time.

Your needle fits and slips, fits and slips, fits and slips—

“Can’t you go any faster?” cries out Eunbi.

The thread almost pulls the rest of the fabric along it when you pull furiously. “Unless you want me to get stabbed in the fucking wrist,” you say, “I can’t.”

You prick yourself multiple times trying to speed up. Push the layered denim down. It’s like drowning a needle, letting it go up from the waves of clothes for air, then drowning it again. However, you don’t care for any casualties right now. You don’t care for deaths either. All you want is to do is finish this piece.

You hear three short knocks on the door. Your world stops, but your sewing doesn’t. You can do this. You can still make it look somehow finished. 

“Ms. Kang!” 

Curl.

Thread. 

Knot.

You’re done. It’s safe to turn around.

All of the women along with Eunbi have bowed deeply. Standing in front of them is the straight-postured form of the adored celebrity. The assistants look like they’re an estranged cult of some sorts who’s worshiping a goddess who’s come to earth.

Strangely, you find out that, as you stare at Kang Hyewon, you understand.

You can now grasp the idea why she’s ventured into so many fields: she can do it all. She can be it all.

Her hair is as black as night, and so are her irises. Her expression tells you no background, not even of a troublesome drive or a good meal. No, not any of that, for Hyewon’s face is a serious little look of professionalism. It’s the kind people of her status wear—celebrated doctors, movie stars, activists. But for some reason, it looks so much hotter on her. 

It would take skilled mathematicians and scientists to find out what’s behind her neutral expression, but it doesn’t take a degree to know that she’s downright beautiful.

The pictures her dedicated fansites take of her truly don’t do justice to her attractiveness. Her face is smaller than a child’s. The nonchalant stare in her eyes makes her look out of this world, which could be said too for her preppy clothes. She’s a fashion icon for the younger generation after all.

A natural pair of plump lips doesn’t show a sign of a smile. Nevertheless, she’s a beautiful woman. You assume that it’s how it is for her everyday, just like drawing is your daily routine.

“Hello.” Hyewon’s voice is surprisingly feminine yet husky. She looks at you all indifferently, then places her bag on a nearby chair. Each action of hers is minimal and measured.

“Would you like to get dressed, Ms. Kang?” asks Eunbi, her voice a pitch too high.

She nods.

You hand over the jeans and shirt. Make a beeline for the exit. There’s a reason why an all-female staff was hired for Hyewon. You were taught in school that you best not dress them up directly if they’re a celebrity and you aren’t known in the industry yet. There’s all the reason to fear: hidden cameras and microphones, leaked footage, the like. While you’re not a man whose intentions are dark, you still follow protocol.

“What are you running away for?” 

Your shoes stop paving the way to the door. Was that Hyewon? “What?” you say.

Eunbi winces. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. You don’t state that in that tone to a woman of that class.

Hyewon sighs audibly. “Can you look me in the eyes when I talk to you?”

You’re cold yet trepidation prickles your skin like fire. Slowly, almost comically, turn around. Her coat is off, leaving her in a skirt and a sleeveless undershirt on which she’s crossed her arms above. So how can you look at her directly? That body of hers is shockingly easy on the eyes.

“You’re the fashion designer, right?” she asks. 

Smile awkwardly. “I, uh—”

“Then why are you leaving? Come over here and help me. I want to see if you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m, a little, uh, actually—”

“You’re actually what?”

Your mouth’s dry. Eunbi and her crew look too scared to remind her that you’re an amateur. You haven’t dressed up a star and you definitely aren’t a professional. 

But what can you do? Look at her—a woman who could crumble your career into shards if she said so and blacklist you from the industry forever—and tell her no? 

So, you approach.

Is it a blessing that you’re granted the honors of removing her underclothes? Or a curse? 

As you undress her, you’re given the affirmation that her body is more than easy on the eyes. It’s fucking to die for. Her waist isn’t concerningly tiny, but shows a defined curve that elevates to her torso. Her breasts are large for her frame, barely fitting the size of her lace bra.

“Woah, what are you doing?” you say, eyes wide at Eunbi suddenly unclasping said bra. You feel like a Victorian man catching sight of ankles.

Eunbi looks confused. “Didn’t you say a bra would ruin the look? And that we should use nipple tape?”

Hyewon stares at her, then looks at you, waiting for an answer. 

“Oh, right.” You chuckle tensely. “Sorry.”

Your lips are pursed to keep you from hissing in embarrassment. Now you probably look like a creep. Your fright and wariness are taking control, and you have no idea what to do. 

You conveniently close your eyes when the bra’s taken off. Take the vest from Yena and raise it above Hyewon’s head. No matter what, you’ll keep your eyes up. Not below, where her breasts are sure to catch you off guard; not to the side, where they might be assuming you’re everything bad; but up. Nowhere else.

“It looks beautiful on you.” Minju’s smile is less nervous now that the job is done. 

Her remark is nothing short of the truth. The garment slips onto Hyewon’s body like water. The defined carve of her clavicle stands out above the conservative neckline. Still, her bare arms alone will already have people thinking of something. The jeans accentuate her slim long legs elevated by a pair of expensive heels. She doesn’t need makeup to look good in what you sewed for her. Her body and face do the job. 

Hyewon doesn't respond to the compliment. She simply sits down on the swivel makeup chair, crosses her legs, and pulls out her phone. Her thumbs twiddle with a game you’ve seen her advertise before. She’s true to her endorsements.

Minju carefully fills the brims of her eyelids with sharp cat eyeliner. Hyewon still doesn’t look up from her phone. You guess she’s used to people adapting to her and not the other way around. 

You like the touch of the fierce red lipstick Eunbi applies on her later on. It’s a bold statement, something that goes like: It’s me, Kang Hyewon; this is the face of a woman who can destroy you, and I promise that you’ll love it.

“You look great, Ms. Kang,” Eunbi compliments her cheerfully, clicking the lipstick back.

Hyewon stares at herself in the mirror. She’s a silent observer, taking in her reflection and studying it closely. 

A lunar eclipse personified, a smile stretches on her lips that releases your held breaths. “I know.”

-

Mirrors lined with shining diamonds. Words that spell the house of fashion emblazoned in lights. Expensive makeup behind glass. Bags that are worth your tuition sitting on displayed pedestals as if they didn’t know their own worth. The event is a never-ending sea of vanity for the wealthy and the west. You can’t believe you’re playing a part in it, although you’re a sheep among well-dressed wolves.

Crowds of reporters and photographers wait at the main hall. There’s no questioning who they’re here for. Although Jang is undoubtedly a big name, so is Hyewon. They were right to recruit her. You’ve never seen a crowd this big, even for fashion. You wonder how much they paid her to be the ambassador. Must be millions when all the other houses are dying to have her. She doesn’t look like one who kindly allows lowballing.

Neither does this man. He’s grand in his custom Victoria Jang and shoes that have the glimmer of stars themselves as he stands at the center. He must be the MC; he has a name tag to his breast pocket and a mic in his fist.

“Dude, did you know Anya Taylor-Joy’s gonna be here?” Rafael tells you.

“The chick from that cool chess movie?”

“Yeah,” he replies. He gestures to the small screen that shows her holding a lipstick to her jaw. It would be hard to see it behind the scrambling reporters. Luckily, as the designer, you scored a nearby spot backstage. “Jennie, too!”

The two are gorgeous, but you’re honestly more interested in Hyewon. If people see she’s wearing your clothes, they’d want to hire you, too. She doesn’t follow the trend; she is the trend. Soon, you’ll see Korea filled with women wearing the same shirt, the same jeans, the same style…

“We’re proud to present Jang’s first store in Korea,” says the MC. Yep, you were right. “This is a monumental stepping stone for our founder, Ms. Jang Wonyoung. Please welcome her with a hearty applause!”

You know all about Jang Wonyoung. She’s a self-made woman whose passion for beauty got the attention of the public, especially the western world. She’s always busy despite her tender age of nineteen: performing onstage with her group IVE, traveling, founding a new school in meager areas. She’s almost at the same level as Hyewon in terms of stardom.

Wonyoung comes out from the background, dressed fashionably as always. A polite smile decorates her glossed lips. It’s caught by the flashes of cameras and the reporters’ cheers. 

“Hello, thank you for coming.” She brushes back her fringe and folds her hands. “Opening a branch here in my home is an achievement I’m forever grateful for. I would like to thank you all greatly for the success it’s brought about.

“Please,” she says, “take the time to immerse yourself in our array of products. Try a new trendy look with Jang Beauty—”

She extends an arm to the variety of products protected under firm glass. There’s powder, eyeliner, and blush. Actually, there’s a little of everything. There’s colors fit for every complexion, dark or light, and a palette of rainbows. 

“—or flaunt your own style with our new arrival bags and purses.”

See, they’re the bags which immediately give the impression of expensiveness. The accessories are reserved to warm or light hues accompanied with Wonyoung’s signature rabbit logo. One even features her signature, stylishly drawn on quality canvas.

“Our helpful staff are here to answer your questions and assist you, but for now, please meet our muses.”

The camera shutters multiply when Kim Jennie enters the frame. Another “it” girl, she’s from a globally loved K-pop group whose influence couldn’t be denied even by the worst liars. She made all the buzz for Jang when a news article that quoted Wonyoung’s adoration for her was released. As expected, social media received the news happily. They made parallels with Wonyoung and Jennie, created fan accounts, and bought from Jang, even if the house initially opened in the United States.

Wonyoung’s smile is wide. You think you see a little of yourself in her. There’s certain pride in seeing someone loved and adored wearing your design. 

Jennie waves briefly to the crowd before settling in a poised stride stage left.

Anya Taylor-Joy comes in next. Rafael makes a joke about how the press would have a difficult time trying to translate her name into Hangul characters correctly. She answers a question from the crowd sweetly with a translator’s help, and stands a yard from Jennie. Seeing the two women side by side stuns you—Jang really did emphasize how there’s beauty in everything and everyone, including those from different sides of the world. 

“And finally, we would like to present Jang’s new ambassador.” Wonyoung’s beaming positively. “Welcome to Jang, Kang Hyewon!”

Suppressed screams fill your ears. The women at the mall can’t believe a friendly outing to the mall grabbed them a chance to see her in person. She’s the kind of girl who’s everywhere, and still manages to make you look. To make you want to be her or be with her. Perhaps those two at the same time?

You stare at her. Hyewon is flawless. Her slight tan is a nice break from the whiteness of the cameras. Her eyes seem to single out everybody in the crowd. The ambassador stands next to Wonyoung, a hand on her own hip, and lets a slight Mona Lisa smile paint her face.

Perfection.

How does she do so little but still attract everyone? You’re not an exception. You find yourself forgetting that you made those clothes—she owns them now. They’ll be associated with her name and not yours. 

Do you even have a problem with that?

“Jang’s vision is to highlight beauty in everyone,” Wonyoung says. “Ms. Kang Hyewon is the perfect ambassador. She is an idol, singer, dancer, model, muse, and everything you can think of. She is the personification of beauty and versatility. We are proud to have her.”

You would be, too.

You were here to make a name for yourself, not fanboy over her. Here you are anyway doing it. 

Hyewon stands next to Wonyoung and nods humbly. “I’m honored to be named the ambassador for Jang.” She bows deeply. Her hands are together on her stomach. “Please expect more from us because we will deliver.”

Perhaps that’s a statement bolder than the red painted on her lips.

“To the name of beauty!” a reporter raises a glass and chugs it. You don’t know where that came from, but it draws collective giggles. 

Wonyoung laughs. “To the name of beauty!”

Hyewon jokingly raises an imaginary shot high in the air. The simplest actions don’t bar her from being beautiful. Just look at how her hair falls perfectly over gorgeous shoulders, how her hips stick out at the sides of the jeans—

How the sound of fabric ripping loudly stuns the crowd.

Your eyes go wide. The left strap of her top has torn apart. The two aidless halves collapse on the sides uselessly. The attire sags from the front and leaks the view of one of her breasts. Maybe they should have told her to keep the bra on—her left tit with nothing but nipple tape on is painfully shown off to hundreds of people. 

Hyewon’s eyes fill with alarm. All confidence is lost as she tries to cover her exposed breast up. But the deed is done. Worse, the flashes don’t stop. The photos will soon take to the internet and, regardless of her power to bend things to their will, can never truly be eradicated. The articles will go viral, too. No one will forget this moment of Kang Hyewon finally showing vulnerability.

“Ms. Kang—” Wonyoung says in a thin voice. She didn’t imagine this special day would take a drastic turn. She awkwardly laughs, because what else can she do? As rich as she is, she can’t pay a crazed scientist to implement a memory-erasing chip in these people’s brains. The event is officially ruined.

And it’s all your fault. 

Still, she generously steps in front of Hyewon to help. Similar to every attempt to salvage her dignity, it’s useless. The ambassador she relied so much on is already walking away. She’s leaving everything behind and won’t look back. Tonight is a night of many firsts, and right now, this is her first time retreating.

Aside from the sounds of phones and camcorders, all that’s left to hear is the furious clicking of Hyewon’s heels. Her strides are short and quick.

One step, five steps, ten steps… then thirteen.

It takes a total of thirteen steps for Hyewon to exit and come to you.

You couldn’t be an unluckier dead man.

-

Hyewon is the grim reaper. She wields fury instead of a scythe, wears now defective clothes instead of a dark cloak. The imminent loss of life is frightening regardless of being faced with a pretty woman. Anyone would get on their knees and resort to the unthinkable to experience this with the celebrity right now. So why are you as cold as a corpse?

“You.” 

One word is enough to make you want to die early.

You look forward while your steps go backward. Your feet can pave the longest reversed path and you’d still be left with no escape. Hyewon is faster than you are. The rest of the staff are in the crowd or in another room; they can’t help you. Nobody can tell her to stop. 

You doubt she’d listen anyway, and you know because you’re looking in her face: the face of death. Gone is the blasé mood surrounding her, the mystery in her that people would pray rosaries to venerate. What’s taken its place is an Ares-born wrath that’s at odds with her Aphrodite visuals. Her eyes are large with anger and short angry rasps leave her mouth. 

“Ms. Kang,” you say, your words a mute plea. “Really, I apologize—” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Hyewon’s forearm knocks into your neck and catapults you to the dressing room door. The wood gives way, much to your horror. You barely make it on the plush chair with how your feet struggle to keep upright. 

She looms over you hauntingly, tall in her black heels. It’s a reminder that she really is above you in everything: positions, status, wealth—

Intimacy? 

Why is she straddling you? You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, much more where to look. Adding to her center literally being seated above your crotch, she didn’t even bother to fix her wardrobe malfunction. There’s no might left in you when her fingers curl into your collar and tighten it up to your neck. 

“You little shit.” She coils the fabric around your throat harder. Wracked coughs fight their way out of you. “An incompetent one, too. This is all your fault.”

Her voice is rougher when she’s angry. It’s like she has a switch that she clicks on and off to be what she has to be: the Kang Hyewon everyone idolizes; and the one people would be afraid of. It doesn’t take a wicked guess to figure which one you’re encountering now.

“Ms. Kang,” you say weakly, “please.” 

You inhale raggedly through your nose. Hate how comforting her expensive perfume is to your senses when she’s doing everything but making you at ease. Hate how attractive she is. Hate how you ruined the day that was supposed to change your life forever. Hate how a small part of you doesn't hate being under her. 

For others to understand you, they need to put themselves in your shoes. If an A-list star who’s as gorgeous as Hyewon was snugly seated on their lap, wouldn’t they feel the same? Wouldn’t they feel the stir in their pants, the heat in their chests?

You’re fucked in the head. But she is, too. You’re a match made in the depths of hell.

“I-I can explain.”

Your pulse beats beneath her palm. Its faltering rhythm brings cruel satisfaction to her, making her face spread into a wicked smile. 

As Hyewon’s almond eyes close into tyrannizing slits and her lips pull at the ends into a closed smirk, you realize why she rarely grins. You’re fucking terrified. It’s a simper reserved for little satisfaction and great anger. How can a woman be this beautiful yet this cruel?

“Explain then,” she allows. The ampleness of her lips has little distance to your mouth. “But if you think for one second I’m letting you go, you’re as dead as your career.”

Your career never started. You were young once. You had dreams of making yourself known and making your family proud. If today never happened, if your needle seamed the thread just a bit tighter, you still would have had a chance to go on. 

Now you’re neither young nor old, with neither a future or past.

Your dreams are broken, just like her clothes.

“Please, Ms. Kang. I was in a rush. I didn’t think it would undo like that.”

She laughs. It’s another rare occurrence that scares the shit out of you. It transforms into a sarcastic little scoff when she meets your eyes again. “I gave you days. I gave you a fucking chance to prove your worth when I could’ve hired any dickhead out there. And what did you do? You screwed it up.” 

With each word she spits, your collar wrings around you more compactly. You feel hot and breathless but to Hyewon, your skin is deadly cold to the touch. Nevertheless, she doesn’t let up.

“I’ll pay for the damage,” you offer bleakly. “I’ll apologize. I’ll admit that I was wrong to… hahk, to the media.  Just please don’t blacklist me.”

She shakes her head. “That isn’t enough.”

It isn’t? What could you do? You’ve already said you’ll pay more than you can to amend. You told her you’d go to the press and bare your wrongdoings. What else does she want? She already has everything.

“You wanted to see me naked, didn't you?” Hyewon snarls. “You planned it all out.” 

You choke, and it’s not because of her hands digging into your flesh. “N-no! I swear—”

In the olden days, prophecies were told by an oracle. People would go on quests and seal their fates in accordance with them. Now, they’re in the little things, like jokes that suddenly bleed into reality, and, in your case, deja vu.

You say deja vu because you know the sound of ripping fabric all too well. 

It interrupts your words and catches you by surprise. Hyewon has wrenched apart the buttons of your shirt down to your stomach. The band of your underwear peeks out above your pants, as well as the stomach you haven’t taken the time to tone in a while.

“There,” she says. She slinks down your lap till her knees touch the floor and she’s tearing your pants, too. More buttons are sent flying in the air. “Now we’re both naked. Isn’t that what you wanted? To get to say that you fucked Kang Hyewon?”

Your pants add to the pile of clothes and buttons on the ground. You can’t even blush or protest; Hyewon is unstoppable when she’s angry. Her soft hands, unlearned in the ways of hardship, somehow have the strength to cut and slice and pull at your clothing. She’s not leaving one speck of fabric on for modesty. 

“I, I don’t want to fu– to have sex with you, Ms. Kang.” 

“Baby.” Hyewon deadpans, laughing a little as she traces the curve of your cheek. “Everyone wants to fuck me.”

She takes off her shirt and tears off the nipple tapes. Her pretty brown nipples are uncovered, and you can’t stop staring. Her body is a model of perfection in every category. You’ve got her flat tummy, curved waist, wide hips, and breasts that really should have a warning sign lest you harm yourself looking at them. Unfortunately, they don’t have a warning label, and Hyewon catches your wandering eyes.

“Fucking pervert.”

You look away, but there’s nowhere else to stare, so you say, “No, please, I didn’t… no, I didn’t—”

“I know what I saw.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“That’s not how you say it.” Hyewon suddenly wraps her hand around your stiffening cock. Her squeeze is painful. “You sit there, bow your head, and say: ‘Sorry, mommy.’”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?” 

You yowl when she squeezes harder and starts to pump you to full mast. It’s a painful pleasure, a guilty danger. Hyewon’s eyes trained on you are even more so. 

“You heard me. If you want to save your career, do as I say.”

You whimper into the eerie silence as the woman curls her fist around your member as if she were choking it. How did you land into this situation? How were you so fucking stupid that you thought a week would be enough to finish the piece?

Now you’re here, in this enclosed dressing room, with a celebrity cruelly torturing your penis and demanding that you call her mommy. Look to the right then to the left and see that no one’s coming to your rescue. This is the real world, and as absurd as it is, you’re on your own.

Hyewon’s fingernails threaten to pierce the sensitive skin. “Be a good boy,” she growls.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, mommy.” 

(You mean it, you mean it, you mean it.)

“That wasn’t so hard. But I’m not done with you just yet.” 

She leans forward. Your face twists while she wraps her soft tits around you. Her cleavage is so deep, so full that your length is completely lost in it. You moan embarrassingly, and it’s too late to cover your mouth when she’s already smirking. 

“Because you wanted to see my tits so bad,” she says, rubbing her tits in opposite directions on your member, “I’m gonna fuck you with them. I don’t care if you cum like a little bitch or not; I’m not stopping.”

You’re starting to leak. Hyewon’s sweat combined with your precum lubricates you and allows for more delicious, slippery friction. She pushes herself up and down repeatedly, continuously trapping your cock between her amazing boobs. She could do this forever. On the other hand, you’re close to losing it.

“I’m not gonna stop. You brought this upon yourself. You understand me, don’t you?” 

“Yes.”

A deserved silence. Her eyes speak of an immediate death that follows a wrong answer.

Close your eyes. You know what you’re supposed to say. “Yes, mommy.”

Strangely, she’s exactly the type of woman who deserves that title. Her stony expression doesn’t evaporate from that beautiful face although sweat’s started to roll down it from how mercilessly she titfucks you. She shows no signs of sympathy for your situation. Why would she when she’s accustomed to control, and you’ve just taken that from her? You took her control from the people who’ve made her famous. This is your punishment.

Each pleasured expression you make draws a haughty smile from her. It’s as inspiring as critical acclaim to her, for she cups her tits tighter around your shaft and pumps away. You’re her toy for tonight. If she can’t regain her control over the public, she’ll show you why she deserves to have it:

One, she’s tireless. 

Her lower lip is under her teeth as she spills effort into persecuting your cock. She’s unblinking—she’s too focused on your reactions to close her eyes. It’s not like she’d care if your reaction is violent or pained or good. Hyewon would still go on fucking you.

“Of course you like this.” Spit covers your cockhead, a sign of her distaste. “You perverted virgins are all the same.”

“I’m not perverted, mommy.” 

“What’s next? You’re gonna tell me you’re not a virgin?”

“I’m, n-not a vir—”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

She continues grinding her pillowy breasts on you. Their undersides touch your balls while her nipples brush against your stomach. Whatever move she does makes you shiver. 

If you had no escape from the enigma that is Kang Hyewon, neither did your cock. Her bust makes sure of that. It surrounds it as if determined to suffocate an ejaculation out of it. The precum from your tip just isn’t enough.

Two, she doesn’t rely on anybody.

Nobody told her to fuck you. Nobody told her to strip and use you. Those are the choices she made by herself, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t perform them with dedication. She doesn’t need anybody’s help in ruining you when she can do it herself.

So she does. Hyewon sinfully lets saliva drip from her chin and onto her chest to help speed up what’s already a vicious pace. The cold drool makes you hiss. Her warm breasts are both a reprieve and retribution. They carry out soft comfort but give out your quick punishment at the same time. It’s funny to think how they’re as versatile as she is. 

Three, she’s the only one who’s ever made you cum like this.

“Mommy!” The word was never intended to be said. But it’s unavoidable; Hyewon’s too hasty, and it’s becoming too much. You can’t hold back on letting her know her ownership of you.

You can’t hold back the messiness of your cum as well. Bursts of white jet her chest and her neck. You whimper to your wits’ end and she doesn’t stop in spite of it. She keeps overstimulating you till the leak of semen becomes a mere dribble.

Hyewon climbs on your lap again, her vagina placed just in front of your spent shaft. “You’re getting used to it, huh?”

Your eyes are on her, as everyone else’s are when she’s under the lens of a camera. You’re horrified; almost every part of her torso is covered with your cum. Her tits are coated grandly with strong splashes. The white liquid drools down her tummy, then to her jeans.

You just came on Kang Hyewon.

Push her away, cursing quietly. You’ve no reputation left to save now. No dignity, no image, nothing. You should have fought back. A junior stylist shouldn’t be getting intimate with a superstar. 

“Ms. Kang, I should go,” you stammer. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

None of this was supposed to happen. You wish you could have turned back time and stopped yourself from going to fashion school. If you didn’t go, you wouldn’t have gone on the path of designing and wouldn’t have accepted her invitation to design for her and Jang. It’s all so fucked up that you’re actually reconsidering religion.

Hyewon considers this. To your relief, her professional tone returns. You’re able to breathe now. It’s over.

“You’re not gonna help me clean up?” she says finally.

“Oh… yes, I’m sorry.”

There’s no tissues or washcloths around. You have to be resourceful. It’s painful wiping up something so inappropriate with the shirt you designed, but it’ll do. The semen embeds into the denim during your dutiful clean-up. It’s humiliating—the only thing that comforts you is that, after this, you and Hyewon will part ways and never speak again. You both have something to hold over the other. Keeping your mouths shut will keep you safer than sorrier.

More worries surface. Did someone hear or see you? Are there hidden cameras here? You’ll have to inspect the place, especially after you think you don’t remember Hyewon locking the door.

“Thank you.” Hyewon crosses her arms and looks down at the stained vest that started all of this. “Now suck your cum out of it.”

You want to cry. This is far from over. You’re not done here, and you won’t be until she says so.

She cocks her head. “I paid for it, and I don’t want flaws,” she says matter-of-factly. “So you either suck your filth out now or I might just drop the Somun magazine editor a visit.”

Stare at her with tear-filled eyes. What can you do?

Attach your lips to the blemished denim. Suck on it forcefully. The taste brings more tears and some even slide in pathetic drops down your face. How did it all come to this? The amount of hard work you put in school surely did not earn you this, right?

You were raised too soft. Maybe hanging out with the rebellious boys back in elementary would have saved you her domination. You could have negotiated with her, maybe even argued that you weren’t allowing this to happen to you. But those happen in parallel universes, where you’re a little stronger, a little wiser. Here, you’re just a man who’s not particularly excellent. 

“Good job,” Hyewon says. “I guess you’re not that much of a lost cause.”

Her backhanded praise is sweet to your ears rather than mocking.

She clicks her tongue. “All that cum should have went in my pussy, you know.” 

You hang your head to hide your blush. You’re glad thoughts aren’t visually presented. Otherwise, Hyewon would put you down further. 

Hyewon places a finger below your chin and tilts it up. You’re forced to meet her eyes. There comes all the hate again. It pours into your heart freely like a fountain. It’s not hate for her, but for yourself. If you didn’t crumple that easily for women like Hyewon—women who like control and give orders and get a kick out of humiliating other people—maybe a whole other fate would have been in store for you.

Fright always gives way to yearning. She’s a bitch who thinks too highly of herself, although understandably so. She hurt you so much and through it all, you still want to hear her praise you.

She smiles. 

Yep, Kang Hyewon is irredeemably, irrevocably evil.

“And you owe me a whole lot of it,” she says, and adds, in a sickeningly sweet voice, “baby boy.”

No horror film can scare you like she does. She’s a phantom of beauty and power who will haunt you forever. All this could be done and you’d still think about her. You’ve become another one of Hyewon’s fanatics who allows her to do anything and everything to them. 

Hyewon shoves you on the dressing table. The cold white surface cools your skin, but you know it’s about to get heated soon. She’s spanned her legs over your hips again. Her aggressive hands grip your shoulders. Somehow, you never want them to leave your touch. 

Then you’re kissing her. The other way around, you mean—Hyewon initiates it by closing the distance and biting your lip. She’s a starved kisser who devours you like a wolf. Her tongue curls around yours and she dives in deeper. You’re deprived of any breath, any source of oxygen. Part your lips to kiss her back, but she’s already locked her mouth on them.

Hyewon sweeps her hair back, readying herself for the final act. If mirrors could blush, you have no question that they would upon seeing her. Attractiveness is a natural thing to her—you can see it in the sway of her arms, the thickness of her thighs, and the way she carries herself. She acts like she’s entitled to everything, and that includes your cock.

She’s too fucking hot that you’d ignore all her cons and give it up to her.

She knows that. She circles her core around your tip. You moan immediately. She feels so good, and you’re not even inside her yet. 

“You like that?” she sneers after she pulls away. “You like my pussy on your cock?”

She grinds her slit along your cockhead. Her moans are surprisingly sensitive, high in pitch and airy. You’re granted exclusive listening to them when you hit her clit. She moves it there particularly, because those moaned questions she asked you are just for her own ego. She only cares for her own pleasure, and it just so happens to be ignited by a weak man whose type is crazy, unhinged women. Whose type just so happens to be her.

She’s so wet that sounds of drenched squeaks fill your ears. You’re nothing else except certain that she really, really gets off on being such a bitch. Her wicked leer couldn’t ever fade from her face, not if you keep flashing those exhausted needy expressions.

“Answer me,” Hyewon says. She glides her fingertips from your broad shoulders to your neck. A threatening grip, a deadly fate. “You know mommy doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Do you want me to ride your cock, hm?” Every fragment she speaks makes her choke you harder. She’ll send you to heaven then hell, where you’ll meet her all over again. “Do you want me to keep you inside me until I’m all done and satisfied?”

“Yes… oh fuck, please!”

“I fucking thought so.”

She sinks herself down in one go. You cry out. Hyewon’s tight pussy welcomes you and traps you right up to the hilt. The hard grip of her cunt disallows you a break; her pace is one of anger that’s unrelenting and harsh. 

Her thighs crash down on your lap and rise, a cycle that never ends. You’re left even more breathless by her soft breasts smothering you. It’s the best way to go out. They bounce marvelously in front of your face, your nose pressed to the little space between them and your mouth kissing wherever it can. You lick at her tits until you’ve licked all the cum that might have remained on them. 

Your lips attach themselves to her nipple. As an effect, the star’s cunt clamps around you with the hold of a guilty pleasure, a taboo vice. It doesn’t intend on letting go unless you decide you want it to go. But you have the feeling that your probable pleas won’t budge Hyewon’s heart. 

“Mommy’s baby boy,” Hyewon says. Her tightness grows and so does the volume of her heavy gasps. “Mommy’s slutty baby boy who’d do anything to get this pussy.”

You want to tell her that what she said is far from the truth. You didn’t want to cause a wardrobe malfunction. You didn’t want to anger her. But now, when presented with the heat of her impossibly wet vagina, you realize you actually would. You try to meet her expectations, nursing on her nipple and guiding her movements with your hands on her wide hips. What you want is for this to be enough, but it just isn’t. Hyewon always wants more.

You can see it in the crash of her butt on your thighs, the shouty cries that she lets go of, the grip on your neck that she doesn’t. A woman accustomed to the scrutiny of the public eye would never let a strand of her hair go knotted. But when it comes to punishing people, to making them the accessory she carries, she doesn’t care anymore. Her usually prepared and counted movements become frantic. Her quietness isn't a  case of the current times when she’s using you as her little fucktoy. 

Kang Hyewon is a mess, and you are, too.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Your yells crack and fade—she doesn’t.

Hyewon doesn’t let up. Her fluttering walls make sure to leave your legs stagnant. You can feel her manicured nails scrape your skin and her thin legs hug your hips. The hours she spends in the gym can’t be that long for her stamina to remain this strong. Maybe she has a personal trainer, a healthy diet. Maybe she owns some weights around the house.

Maybe she owns you.

“You sound pathetic. Just keep sucking those tits.” She removes her hand from the base of your neck, but leaves you asphyxiated anyway when she pushes her face into her breasts. 

The mirror bears your combined weight. You try to lift your head. Hyewon chases your movements. You’re forced to inhale through your nostrils, taking in her powdery perfume and lightly sweaty scent, and keep your mouth busy on her boobs. 

You flick her nipple with your tongue. She holds you to her chest and promises no escape. To be fair, you could stay here, smothered by her breasts forever. You’d have little complaint when they’re heavy and soft and sweaty. Your mouth stays attached to them and brings her on the road to orgasm.

“Greedy little boy,” Hyewon scoffs. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you? I bet you held it out just so I could keep riding you.”

Your cock feels sore already. Although her insides are warm and soaked enough for the entering and leaving to be slick, you’ve been trying to hold back for so long you think you’ll cry. You have to tell her. Perhaps it’ll lessen her anger. 

“I’m gonna cum, please, mommy.”

She cruelly bounces faster. Her hips are that of a veteran dancer’s, grinding to and fro and rotating. You’ve figured it out: the reason why she’s never had a dating scandal is that no man would be able to handle her. She’d drain him nightly. She’d treat him like a sex toy to use when she pleases. Everyone wants to be hers, but no one is ready for her.

“Do you deserve to cum inside this perfect pussy?” she asks. She splays her lips and grinds upwards. You groan loudly. “You’re lucky if I even spit on you. What makes you think you can explode in mommy?”

“Please, I’ll do anything!” You tighten your core to hold it back. It’s useless. Your orgasm is coming anytime now, and Hyewon won’t let it happen. “Mommy, let me cum, mommy, please!”

She slaps you across the face. Why did the sting turn you on? You’d argue her words sting more. “You made me look like a cheap slut out there!” Hyewon shouts. “I gave you a chance and you ruined it, you little shit. So now you have to earn your fucking worth!” 

Her riding becomes intense by the minute. She was angry earlier, and now she’s furious. You’re her canvas for a fuming painting. But in her eyes, you’re not a masterpiece. She’ll do away with you to the point of destruction. You’re very near to crumbling.

“I’ll do anything, please!”

You’re desperate. Your stomach’s starting to ache from the violence. You can’t quite feel your legs. All you feel is an impending heat that squeezes your insides. Your hips jerk needily and tears fall from your face. This is the first time you’ve felt this humiliated and aroused. Something about Hyewon makes the two emotions merge and leaves you wanting more.

Hyewon’s close to cumming, too. She’s shaking as her chaotic bounces are sloppier than before. “Say it, say you’re my little boy toy! Say you’re a slut for mommy!”

You’re a quivering body beneath the celebrity. You’re letting her use your cock and choke you and slap you, all without repercussions. There’s only one kind of man that would let someone do that to them. You can’t believe you’ve become one.

“Yes, yes, mommy owns my cock!” you scream, nodding over and over. “I’m her toy and she can do w-whatever she wants to me, I won’t mind!” 

Her juices roll down your cock and wet your pubic area. She’s spiraling out of control. The only thing she can control is you, making you say the most humiliating things. Her wild eyes lock onto yours, and through them you could finally see some backstory: Kang Hyewon was born into wealth and control, and she’ll die with them, too. She’ll always fight to have them when they’re taken away from her. She isn’t afraid to cross limits.

“Yes, yes, yes! More!”

“I only want mommy’s pussy even if I don’t deserve it! I only do what she says, I’ll give up everything to be mommy’s plaything, please!”

When she cums, she looks frenzied, shaking all over the place and spasming around you. Her cries of pleasure become erratic. They almost sound not human. A human would not dare do what she does to you. She fucks you like an animal, frightens you like a supernatural phenomenon, and moves like the waves of the sea.

Kang Hyewon is out of this world. You’re an unnamed rock floating in the galaxy she navigates.

You bust just the second she removes herself from you. Abashing strings of sticky whiteness land all over yourself. They’re paired with needy groans that you can’t stop even if you wanted to. 

Hyewon observes your ejaculation unamusedly. She takes a step backward when a jet of cum sprays in her direction. Look down at yourself—look down at your lap and the table blotted with your orgasm—and think of how dirty you are. You’re so dirty and pitiable that you came all over yourself, like you just masturbated in front of her. That’s why she doesn’t want to touch you.

“Y-you didn’t let me cum inside,” you say disappointedly. You did everything, said everything, and risked everything for nothing. An orgasm isn’t worth it when it isn’t done inside Hyewon.

“Like I said,” Hyewon replies, apathetic, “you don’t deserve it.”

Stare at her. It’s through staring at her with surprise that you realize you’re dirty on the inside, too. Hyewon can live her life secludedly and fade from the industry. She can leave this country, reinvent herself, marry somewhere, and you’d still be thinking about her. You’d always think of this night that left her appearance and yourself ruined.

That’s her charm. She’s permanently going to be in your mind—you’ll always picture her wet cunt, her alluring breasts, her beautiful face. You’ll strive for her again and again while she doesn't even care if you live or die.

Women like her… why do they have to be who you want?

“You have no future in this industry,” she continues. 

She pulls her jeans up her legs and slips the button through the hole. Oh, you really will remember this night. You see you and Hyewon in the little things. She searches through the closet for a spare shirt. Watch her slim fingers that previously wrapped like ribbons around your throat now wrap around a hanger. She slips her arms through the tweed coat and seals it around the front.

“But your drawings aren’t… horrible,” she says. That’s the best compliment you can get from her. You know not to expect more. She shrugs as she closes the buttons together. “Maybe you’ll end up as a painter.” 

A painter? You’re a fashion designer, not Van Gogh. Dresses and pants are your forte. You can’t switch to a whole new job when sewing is what you know.

Your heart sinks. You really broke the first step to a career you worked your whole life for. It’s just not your path to take anymore. 

Hyewon looks around for something to write with. She settles for the eye pencil lying on a table. She forces you to open your palm and writes something on it. She closes your fingers above it.

“There you go. Consider this a farewell gift.”

She came into your life fast and she exits it just as fast. You can’t help but feel a strange sense of yearning. After all she’s done, you don’t want her to go. Why do you despise her departure when you prayed for it earlier?

Who would take you now?

You sigh. Peek at your hand curiously. In tidy handwriting, Hyewon’s message says:

KIM MINJU - CURATOR

XXX - XXX - 2001

[spidergrysn]

how webs intertwine 🕷️

cw:cussing (sorry i have a sailor mouth)a bit of violence, jeno is kind of an asshole, mark is a cutie patootie)

part 2

y/n painstakingly trudged across the university campus her h/c h/t pulled into a messy ponytail and face bare not bothering to cover any blemishes. today she is serving i just rolled out of bed, brushed my teeth and threw on the first thing i saw because i decided to get too drunk at a party the prior night couture.

the morning sun casted a warm glow over the cobblestone pathways, y/n couldn’t shake the throbbing ache in her head or the faint taste of slight regret lingering on her tongue. last night’s party had been a whirlwind of laughter, dancing and getting to know a certain someone but now, with the harsh light of day filtering through the trees, she found herself paying the price for her indulgence.

her steps were slow and measured, each footfall echoing in the quiet mid-morning air as she made her way to her chemistry class. she let out a small groan as she found herself having to walk up a small hill to get to her class.

she takes a deep breath and takes in all the vibrant colors of fall painted the landscape around her, a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and yellows that seemed to dance in the gentle breeze. as y/n approached the lecture hall, she seemed to drag her feet, this time it had nothing to do with her hangover but everything to do with the fact that she hated chemistry. chemistry was never her strong suit, and the thought of facing a lecture with a pounding headache and a queasy stomach made her stomach churn even more.

as she entered the lecture hall she barely even scans the classroom, as she quickly takes her a seat near the back hoping to just zone out for the rest of the class. she lays her head down before hearing the booming voice of her older profesor.

“good morning, class, and welcome to chemistry 101. I am delighted to see all of your eager faces here today as we embark on a journey of the fascinating world of chemistry. over the course of this semester, we will explore the fundamental principles that govern matter and its transformations, from the simplest atoms to the most complex molecules. there will be loads of group assignments so i want you all to get familiar with your peers. but before we dive into the realm of molecules and equations, let’s take attendance.”

“lee jeno,” the professor called out, his voice filling the room with warmth. a boy in the front row raised his hand, meeting the professor’s gaze with a polite nod.

“lee minhyung,” the professor continued, scanning the room for the student. a voice piped up from the back, interrupting the silence with a casual remark.

“you can just call me mark,” the black hair boy said with a friendly smile, pushing up his glasses. y/n couldn’t help but perk up at the sound of his name, memories of their conversation at the party flooding back with a rush of excitement.

as the professor called out the next name, y/n found herself lost in thought, the name “lee minhyung” echoing in her mind like a melody. before she could fully process the coincidence, the professor’s voice broke through her reverie, his tone tinged with mild annoyance.

“ah, is there an l/n y/n?” the professor repeated, his voice carrying a hint of impatience. y/n’s head snapped up, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realized she had been lost in thought.

“here!” she blurted out, her response rushed and slightly breathless. the professor let out a disapproving tsk, reprimanding her for not responding promptly the first time. heat rose to y/n’s cheeks as she sank lower in her seat, her gaze fixed on her phone in a feeble attempt to hide her embarrassment.

near the end of class y/n perked up hearing as her chemistry professor’s voice filled the room, commanding attention as he outlined the first assignment of the semester—a partner or group project, their choice. excitement and dread buzzed through the classroom as students exchanged eager or annoyed glances, their minds already racing with multiple possibilities.

jeno, groaned at the idea before laughing and getting up he, sauntered up to y/n with a playful grin, teasing her about her tardiness with a mockingly exaggerated gasp.

“y/n/, I didn’t know you were fashionably late on the first day of class,” he teased, his tone light and teasing. y/n rolled her eyes, swatting playfully at his arm as she shot back a retort about punctuality.

“nice to see you too lee jeno.” y/n rolls her eyes looking up at the handsome but infuriating boy.

“it’s been awhile hasnt it.” y/n says as the boy nods happily. before their banter could continue, another figure approached. It was mark, his expression earnest as he stood before y/n.

"hey, i heard your name in the class and was wondering if you wanted to be partners," mark said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "if it makes you feel better, i can do most of the work. i'm really good at chemistry, and it'll be a make-up for spilling that drink on you." mark nodded at y/n, his eyes hopeful.

y/n smiles warmly at the boy, a glimmer of happiness in her eyes, before nodding sharply. she then turns around, gesturing to jeno and introducing him with a friendly smile. jeno’s eyes flick between mark and y/n, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, before he bursts out laughing, his laughter echoing through the room. he then leans in, his voice tinged with amusement, and explains to y/n how he and mark are cousins, a hint of mischief twinkling in his eyes.y/n looks up surprised and looks to mark as he nods confirming it.

“okay well that’s so funny because i’ve known jeno for so long but i’ve never met you.” y/n says raising an eyebrow eyeing mark.

“well get this.” jeno says as he leans against the desk, a playful glint in his eyes as he turns to address mark, getting ready to tease him about his past nerdy persona.

"hey, mark," he begins, his tone light but mischievous, "you know, before this year, i don't think anyone ever saw you anywhere outside of the library. you were like a ghost, man. always buried in books, never saying a word to anyone."

mark chuckles nervously, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he slightly nods along with jeno's words. “i still do those things jeno.” mark chimes.

jeno chuckles before once again turning to y/n, jeno continues, his voice tinged with curiosity, "yeah, y/n, you probably wouldn't have crossed paths with mark before. he was the king of solitude. but something must've happened this year," he adds cryptically, "because now he's everywhere, mingling with the masses. it's like he's a whole new person."

y/n's curiosity piqued, she looks between jeno and mark, wondering what mysterious incident could have caused mark's sudden transformation, but jeno remains deliberately vague, leaving y/n to speculate what it could possibly mean. before she could think to hard about it. jeno smiles opening his mouth again.

“but anyways, that's unimportant," jeno interjects, his words quick and decisive, as if to brush off the previous topic. "why don't we all do this project together? we can work on it at my apartment. I have plenty of space, and my roommate shouldn't bother us," he suggests, a hint of excitement lacing his tone as he eagerly changes the subject.

y/n nods in agreement, a soft smile gracing her lips as she acknowledges jeno’s proposal. mark, intrigued by the sudden turn of events, throws jeno a quizzical look, his eyebrow arched in curiosity. with a nod of approval, y/n smoothly exchanges her number with mark before making a group true, an ensuring them smooth this will be good way to keep in communication for their upcoming project.

after telling both of them goodbye, she gracefully exits the classroom, her steps light and purposeful as she heads to her next class, leaving a sense of tension between the two boys lingering in the air.

mark's gaze shifts to jeno, a strained smile playing on his lips. with a subtle tilt of his head and a brief nod, mark bids jeno farewell, the underlying tension evident in his passive-aggressive demeanor. an aura of annoyance surrounds mark as he swiftly retreats, his footsteps purposeful as he heads back to his dormitory, leaving jeno behind in the hallway.

as mark walks back, he can't help but feel a surge of irritation at the prospect of working with jeno on this project. even as kids, they never quite got along. mark was always the studious cousin, jeno in books and never one to socialize, while jeno effortlessly commanded attention, effortlessly excelling in sports and effortlessly surrounded by friends.

jeno had a knack for teasing mark relentlessly, until this year, when mark underwent a surprising transformation. suddenly, mark gained confidence, hitting the gym and sculpting his physique into something impressive. like a phoenix rising from the ashes, mark emerged as a new person, embracing a more outgoing lifestyle and meeting new people.

however, jeno seemed to resent this change. he would overhear people, particularly girls, commenting on mark’s newfound attractiveness and even field requests to set them up. as someone accustomed to being the center of attention, this newfound attention on mark unsettled jeno deeply.

mark takes a deep breath before stepping inside, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as he enters the comfort of his apartment. spotting haechan in the hallway, mark begins to recount the events of the chemistry class, venting his frustration to his friend. he confides in Haechan about jeno’s not-so-subtle hints regarding his "big secret" and how it's been weighing heavily on his mind.

haechan’s expression darkens in understanding, his annoyance evident as he mutters curses about jeno under his breath. turning to mark, haechan offers reassurance, placing a comforting arm on his shoulder. "you’ll be okay, you know. the only things that go through his head are girls and soccer. he won't uncover your secret," haechan says, flashing a supportive smile.

mark offers a small, grateful smile in return before nodding in agreement. "I'm gonna go for a swing for a bit, need to burn off some annoyance," mark sighs. haechan nods understandingly before retreating to his room to spend hours playing overwatch.

with a sigh, mark retreats to his room, the weight of the day's events hanging heavy on his shoulders. quickly putting on his red and blue suit, he slips in his airpods, the soothing hum of music drowning out the world around him.

with practiced ease, he fastens his mask in place and grabs his camera, pausing for a moment to carefully survey the cityscape outside his window. with a determined gleam in his eye, mark leaps into action, propelling himself into the sky and swinging through the bustling city below, the rush of wind against his face serving as a temporary reprieve from his worries.

"pizza," she types back, a playful glint in her eye as she rolls her eyes at chenle’s suggestion that she pick it up. before she can protest, a notification pops up on her phone, informing her that Chenle has sent her $30 for dinner. a delighted grin spreads across her face as she continues down the street, the weight of the day's worries lifting from her shoulders simply because she was basically eating free dinner.

after completing her classes for the day, y/n finds herself walking home, her earbuds snugly in place, enveloping her in a cocoon of music. lost in the melody, she softly hums along, the rhythm guiding her steps as she navigates the familiar streets. with a gentle smile, she responds to a text from chenle, her friend's inquiry about dinner pulling her attention away from the music momentarily.

as she strolls through the area, y/n takes a few leisurely turns before arriving at a familiar pizza joint she's frequented many times before. with a sense of familiarity, she places an order for a 3 pizzas and a few of sodas before settling into an empty table to await their completion.

as she waits, a small group of college students enters the pizzeria, their presence immediately catching her attention. all men, they cast curious glances in her direction, prompting a flutter of unease in her stomach as she idly occupies herself with her phone while awaiting her order.

her thoughts are interrupted when one of the guys comes up to her, he wore black and the bottom half of his face was covered with a mask. he pulls the mask down smiling and y/n couldn’t help a chill go up her back“you’re very beautiful.” the guy says creepily looking at y/n.

y/n nods thanking him before making eye contact with one of the employees who calls her name saying her food is ready. y/n nods at the guy and walks up to the employees grabbing the food thanking the employee.

y/n makes her way out the door and couldn’t help out feel like there was still eyes on here. carrying the food she takes a shortcut cutting through an alley only to somehow be meet with the guy from earlier y/n groans from annoyance looking at him as he starts to open his mouth “leaving so soon sweetheart?” the guy says again sending chills up y/n’s spine.

"i'm sorry, i have somewhere to be," y/n says, her voice wavering with a mix of assertiveness and inner terror.

"aww, but I just want to have a little fun," the guy replies, his steps drawing closer as he corners y/n against the wall.

"you're even prettier up close," he remarks, his warm breath brushing against y/n's face, causing her to scrunch up her features in disgust.

"get the fuck off of me!" y/n exclaims, her fear escalating as she spits in the guy's face, dropping the food in the process and pushing him away.

as she attempts to flee, she trips over her shoelace, her heart sinking in defeat as she falls to the ground."you've got to be kidding me," she mutters under her breath, scrambling to her feet only to find herself pinned down on the ground.

"i tried to be fucking nice to you," the guy sneers, pulling out a knife and pressing it against y/n's throat. "you bitches nowadays have some confidence," he spits out bitterly, his words dripping with malice.

y/n rolls her eyes before spitting in his face again, her heart pounding with fear but refusing to show it.

"yeah, I'm gonna have fun with you," he creepily says, his voice sending shivers down y/n's spine as he inches the knife closer and closer to her neck.

y/n takes a deep breath, trying to clear her mind and think of a way out. suddenly, she hears a loud crash and feels a weight lifted off of her. confused, she looks up to see herself being lifted up, her eyes first catching a glimpse of red and blue before scanning the scene. she sees the creepy attacker slumped against the trash cans, groaning in pain.

"are you okay?" a strangely familiar voice murmurs. y/n lifts her gaze, startled to encounter a man donned in a spider suit. "oh my fucking god, you've just rescued me! thank you," y/n stammers, her gratitude overflowing.

the suited figure offers a nod, gently lowering her to the ground. "wait, who are you?" she questions, her confusion deepening. "has comic con arrived early, or are men in tights the new trend?" she asks, arching an eyebrow at the masked figure.

"is this how you typically respond to someone who saves you?" the hero retorts dryly, eliciting laughter from y/n.

"oops sorry, my curiosity got the best of me, mister..." she trails off, prompting him to reveal his identity. "spider-man," the man declares.

a bit unimaginative, wouldn't you agree?" y/n quips, teasingly. "isn’t that just plagiarizing the comics? could you get sued for that?" she jokes, a playful sparkle in her eyes.

"well, no, because I am spider-man,"y/n scrutinizes him before perplexedly nodding. "well, if you say so..." she trails off. "well, thank you, mister spider-man cosplayer, for saving my life. I appreciate it," y/n acknowledges with a nod.

"I can take you home to ensure you get there safely," spider-man offers. y/n hesitates before nodding and turning towards him. “sooo, do you ride a bike or a motorcycle or—" y/n question is interrupted as spider-man picks her up, beginning to swing through the air.

“holy shit, holy fuck, no way, you're actually like spider-man and not some guy parading in a suit,” y/n screams, feeling the rush of wind around her as they soar through the air. the guy chuckles, asking y/n where she lives, and they continue to glide.

after a bit, they arrive at y/n’s shared apartment. he sets her down gently, ensuring she's at the right door.

“ah, well, thank you again,” y/n says, a bit winded and still a little shocked. The spider-guy nods before swinging away, leaving y/n with wide eyes.

she unlocks the door, still in shock, and finds her worried roommates inside.

“you guys will NEVER guess what just happened.”

<3

hello i hope you guys enjoyed LOL >.< wanted to do a little bit of spider!mark LOL!! anyways thank you for reading & send asks !!! mwah - 🤓

[fullcupofstyle]

Reverie Couture brand

[shoponlinemalls]

Reverie Couture dress! So pretty! 😍

[amphtaminedreams]

Mid-year Fashion Update for 2024 in (Mostly) A-Z Format: RTW, Pre-fall, & a Little Haute Couture Plus my Top 25 (Part 3)

-clockwise l-r: Petar Petrov RTW F/W24, Pressiat “, Private Policy “, Puppets and Puppets “-

-top to bottom: Philosophy di Lorenzo Serafini RTW F/W24, Prada “, Preen by “, Thornton Bregazzi “-

-clockwise l-r: Plan C RTW F/W24, R13 “, Rahul Mishra haute couture S/S24, RTW F/W24, Rave Review “-

-top to bottom: Prabal Gurung RTW F/W24, Atelier Prabal Gurung RTW F/W24-

-top to bottom: Proenza Schouler RTW F/W24, Rabanne “, Retrofête “-

-clockwise l-r: Ralph Lauren RTW F/W24, Renaissance Renaissance “, Self-Portrait pre-fall 2024, RTW F/W24, STAND STUDIO “, Simon Miller “, Regina Pyo “-

-clockwise l-r: Reem Acra RTW F/W24, Reverie by Caroline Hú “, Rick Owens “, Rochas “-

-clockwise l-r: Richard Quinn RTW F/W24, Roberto Cavalli “, Rokh “-

-clockwise l-r: Róisín Pierce RTW F/W24, Roksanda “, Roland Mouret “, Rui Built “-

-top to bottom: Sacai pre-fall 2024, RTW F/W24, Sandy Liang “-

-clockwise l-r: Saks Potts RTW F/W24, Sea “, Shuting Qiu “, Schiaparelli haute couture S/S24, RTW F/W24, Sinéad O'Dwyer “-

-top to bottom: Shiatzy Chen RTW F/W24, Simone Rocha “, Sportmax “-

-clockwise l-r: Steve O Smith RTW F/W24, Stine Goya “, Sunnei “, The Row resort 2025, Theory RTW F/W24, TIME “, The Garment “, Supriya Lele “-

-top to bottom: Thom Browne RTW F/W24, Tom Ford “, Tommy Hilfiger “-

-clockwise l-r: TOGA RTW F/W24, Tokyo James “, Tolu Coker “, Uma Wang “-

-clockwise l-r: Susan Fang RTW F/W24, Talia Byre “, Tamara Ralph haute couture S/S24, Samuel Guì Yang RTW F/W24, ShuShu/Tong “, Tanya Taylor “-

-top to bottom: Tory Burch RTW F/W24, Ulla Johnson “, Versace “-

-Valentino RTW F/W24-

-clockwise l-r: Valentino haute coutre S/S24, Undercover RTW F/W24, Vaquera “-

-top to bottom: Vetements RTW F/W24, Victoria Beckham “, Florentina Leitner “ (saved image under Victoria not Florentina…oops) -

-top to bottom: Vivetta RTW F/W24, Vivienne Tam “, Y/Project “-

-clockwise l-r: Vivienne Westwood RTW F/W24, Viviano “, Weinsanto “, Yirantian “, Wiederhoeft “, Viktor & Rolf “-

-clockwise l-r: XULY.Bët RTW F/W24, Windowsen “, Yohei Ohno “, Zimmerman “, Zuhair Murad “, Yohji Yamamoto “-

-clockwise l-r: Saint Laurent RTW F/W24, Yuhan Wang “, Ujoh “, William Fan “-

The Best of the Year (So Far)

So…this is the second time I’ve included a brief quick summary of my top 25 collections in one of these posts. I used to write my thoughts on everrryyy single collection and the whole process took me a fucking millennia every time, to the point that once I finally got round to posting, 2 seasons worth of collections had come out in the meantime. Sticking entirely to photo posts feels kind of pointless to me because these end up feeling completely impersonal. Like yeah, I only pick my favourite looks from a collection for the final post but there seems to be sooOooO many bloody brands out there these days that including brief notes to emphasise my faves throughout would be like dropping needles in a haystack and expecting them to catch somebody’s eye.

To round off the posts with my top 25 feels like a good middle ground to plant my roots in, so I guess this is going to be tradition from now on? On which note, in no particular order, let’s get into my 25 standout collections of 2024 thus far:-)

I promise I will ACTUALLY make it snappy. Mostly, anyway.

-clockwise l-r: Gucci RTW F/W24, MarkGong “, Armani Privè Haute Couture S/S24, Rokh RTW F/W24-

1. Gucci RTW F/W24, creative dir. Sabato De Sarno: Every and I mean every Gucci collection that has, and will be, debuted over the next couple of years counts rn. We get it, you hero worship Alessandro Michele, I hear anybody who has had the patience to sit through any of my previous fashion posts crying. But regardless of whether I was an Alessandro devotee or not, the first couple of years following the departure of a well-established and imo! Visionary! creative director is crucial for their successor, as it establishes the direction they’ll be taking the brand going forwards.

The first Gucci collection we saw under de Sarno had me worried, I can’t lie. It was such a stark departure from what I’d come to expect from Gucci that I thought, well, that’s it folks. Gucci’s done. It was safe, minimalistic, yeah expensive looking, but ultimately just really bloody boring. All that being said, with the benefit of hindsight, I suppose I see that debut show as de Sarno’s way of signalling Gucci’s renewed commercial viability. Bland looks are nothing if not versatile, and versatility of course increases the widespread appeal of a brand. Some of Alessandro’s looks were out there, which I can imagine made it exciting for the detached onlooker (myself), but probably not great for the brand’s shareholders. After all, the goal is to make money. Yep, it’s the worst isn’t it? How profit so often is prioritised at the cost of art! 

I think what this collection showed me is that just because de Sarno seems on a mission to promote the brand’s accessibility, essentially one of toning things down in favour of broadening the target market, that doesn’t mean all I’ve loved about Gucci over the last decade is lost.

Far from de Sarno’s S/S24 collection, there were a number of similarities between this one and the Gucci I came to know and love under Alessandro. Though it still lacks Alessandro’s eclecticism, it is reassuring that even in these early days, more of the character the former creative director infused is beginning to shine through. 

I can’t fully say Gucci is BACK! But what I will say is that PARTS of what I love about Alessandro’s Gucci is back. All I wanted from the last collection was a bit of EDGE for Christ’s sake, OPULENCE, dark romanticism, gothic touches. Ultimately, S/S24 lacked a sense of power, like the quiet ferocity and intimidating, yet mystical presence that defined the best looks we saw on Alessandro’s runway; in my mind, this signalled the character he brought to the brand was being forced back into the box. On the contrary, de Sarno’s F/W24 collection played homage to the legend in many ways. The inclusion of deathly platform heels, black lace and faux leather, for example, indicates de Sarno is more inspired by Alessandro’s abandonment of the “quiet luxury” ideal, a bigger admirer of his carefully curated undercurrent of danger and disruption, than I previously thought. To say de Sarno fully leaned into the witchy glamour Alessandro brought to the table is a stretch but this collection did have hints of that aura, with the opulent jewell toned fabrics, snake print and sequins littered throughout a promising acknowledgement of that other-worldly, underground cabaret vibe Alessandro channelled when he was at his best.

If everything I’ve said about this collection so far sounds critical, it’s only because I’m holding de Sarno’s early work, upon which I’m sure the burden of ensuring commercial viability weighs heavy, to Alessandro. We’re talking someone who had been creative director for long enough to likely be entrusted with far greater creative license. So comparison aside, in a vacuum, I can say I do adore this collection. Gucci RTW F/W24 has been a major relief because it seems the new team spearheading the brand don’t intend to abandon Alessandro’s vision completely.

2. MarkGong RTW F/W24, creative dir. Mark Gong: obviously, I had a lot to say about Gucci, I’m highly invested, but I can sum up why I was so fond of most of the other collections on this list much more succinctly, don’t worry, lmao. When it comes to MarkGong for example, it kind of felt like a manifestation of how y2k would interpret the 90s (as was the case in actuality with the 2000’s ‘70s resurgence), with the best elements taken from both and combined in one collection. Though the ‘90s grunge influences, reminiscent in many ways of Marc Jacobs’ famous Perry Ellis collection, were more obvious, I like how a bit of the old y2k sleaze was brought into the picture too. It kinda felt like a tour through the wardrobe of a Cali from the Valley party girl who’s going through her rebellious phase, iygm. Either way, I get me, and that’s why MarkGong is on this list because yeah, it’s a cute collection.

3. Armani Privè Haute Couture S/S24, creative dir. Giorgio Armani: I never thought I’d see the day an Armani collection in any form would make it onto this list, because my general feeling is that more often than not, I find it a little saccharine, aggressively prim and proper, you know. The stying usually has those models looking like a cross between a 2000’s era Barbie doll and the kind of outfit your rich grandma would try to force you into. I mean, with context of Giorgio being an 89 year old man, it makes sense. So I’ve got to say it, I was truly taken aback by how much this collection actually worked for me. It’s not like it was jarringly different to what I’d expect, the head to toe looks are still, for the most part, youthful and girlish, it’s more that they fully committed to the dress-up fantasy, consequently, this feels a lot less uptight than the image I’ve come to associate with the brand. Instead of pedestrianising the princess look, Armani leaned in, to a dreamy, candy coated effect.

4. Rokh RTW F/W24, creative dir. Rok Hwang: Rokh is a firm fixture in my seasonal favourites list by now, and whilst this collection stayed true to Hwang’s formulaic balance between elegance and edge, I really appreciate the subtle bohemian touches, and the nomadic feel this collection has. It broaches into new territory for the designer, and one I find quite mesmerising at that. Whilst Hwang’s collections typically feel sleek, distinctly modern, this one is more free-spirited and earthy. Though I get a bit of a Pride and Prejudice vibe, the modern day tailoring and signature deconstructed feel of the looks, along with current street style rooted silhouettes, ensure this collection, whilst a departure from the expected, remains true to the brand’s identity.

-clockwise l-r: Dilara Fındıkoğlu RTW F/W24, Courrèges “, Khaite “, Vivetta “-

5. Dilara Fındıkoğlu RTW F/W24, creative dir.“: Dilara stayed true to form with her F/W24 collection. As ever, her designs give the wearer an imposing, battle-worn aura, without ever compromising the ethereal, other-worldly beauty of the garments. The end result is that this particular collection felt like a darkly mesmerising visual tale of a kind of fallen angel on earth, who excels so highly at navigating the depravity of a Victorian era criminal underworld she ends up in that even once she descends to hell to reign as the Bella Hadid adjacent it-girl of the underworld, her fleeting, vampiric presence on earth spawns many an urban legend in her wake. If that isn’t an excellent proposition for a new Netflix original series (since I know they seem to love throwing money around left, right and centre at new shows these days), I don’t know what is. I would like to state for the record here that if Netflix want to take me up on that offer I’ll forgive them for prematurely cancelling Mindhunter whilst continually renewing Riverdale and subjecting us to Cole Sprouse as a result:-) 

6. Courrèges RTW F/W24, creative dir. Nicolas Di Felice: I’m not usually a minimalism girl but Courrèges does it in a way which feels uniquely futuristic. Like if the Tesla man had half the brain cells he thinks he does and managed to actually do something significant in space, head-to-toe Courrèges would be an incredible outfit choice for the rope cutting of an intergalactic nightclub. Unfortunately, even if Teslatubby wasn’t so full of shit, and actually possessed the level of genius he wants to convince us of, he is clearly too busy fine tuning the Twitter algorithm into subconsciously red pilling everyone to be building bars in space. As a sad result, Courrèges can wait, I say, as if I can afford their stuff anyway…as if the 75% increase in the price of a large bag of Cadbury’s chocolate buttons in less than 2 years doesn’t have me in a tailspin.

7. Khaite RTW F/W24, creative dir. Catherine Holstein: I don’t have all that much to say about Khaite except that I think it’s very cool, lol. A very lame descriptor, ik. I know I trash minimalism all the time and it could be argued that Khaite’s collections are pretty stripped back but I think in this instance, I like that, because it feels like it hasn’t come straight from a drawing board of neutrals, rather an exercise in restraint of the darker, grungier aesthetic. Rather than going down the deconstructed, oft-unfinished look you’d typically associate with that style, Khaite seems a re-imagining of trends under the alternative umbrella in line with the tailoring, simplicity and functionality associated with prestige fashion houses. Whilst working for a hedge fund management company in London sounds like a fucking nightmare, in this parallel universe where I do end up in one of those nonsense jobs, Khaite would be right up my alley. Not only in terms of what I’d look to for inspiration if I had to don the uniform of a rush hour briefcase wanker, lol, but also because I’d definitely reach for their designs, being the staple pieces they are, on a low-key day too. In true British fashion, I did of course mentally envision the corresponding briefcase wanker Inbetweeners scene as I typed those words. Forgive me, the appreciation for that show is just one of a very limited number of things which unites Britain as a country.

8. Vivetta RTW F/W24, creative dir. Vivetta Ponti: Vivetta’s F/W24 is giving “I’m not a regular crazy cat lady, I’m that bitch kind of a crazy cat lady”. So, you know, in other words, it’s kinda twee, but also kinda provocative, and the balance feels correct. Not to celebrate adultery in any way but this for me, is all girl-next-door, Jess from new girl vibes on the surface, with a undercurrent of this bitch could steal your menzes running strong underneath. The whole collection feels like something Marina would have worn during her Electra Heart era.

-top to bottom: David Koma pre-fall 2024, RTW F/W24-

9. David Koma pre-fall 2024, creative dir.”: so, although I’ve included David’s RTW collection, my adoration goes to his divine pre-fall collection this year. I just included 4 looks from his RTW collection as my new tradition dictates is the protocol when I’m listing my top 25, which is to include 4 of my favourites looks from every collection listed. If I do a whole 8, I’m just repeating what I’ve already done when I originally included said brand in the post, ygm? Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that I was unexpectedly disappointed in Koma’s RTW collection, a rare occurrence mind you, so I just chose 4 of the best looks from it for continuity to go along with pre-fall. On that note, let’s talk about this pre-fall collection: it was perfection! There’s a lot of references to the hyper-girlish coquette and ballet-core aesthetics we’ve seen become widespread fashion crazes, but whereas the trend (ordinarily, I suppose it depends on how you style the pierces) is ordinarily quite demure, casual, and semi-virginal at times, Koma adds high glamour and sex appeal. There are plenty of bows, whites and pastels, but the loose linen, cheesecloth, and babydoll silhouettes are gone and replaced with svelte body-con dresses, plunging necklines and daring cut outs, as well as plenty of black and bold reds throughout. I can’t work out if it all leans more into a dominatrix vibe or it’s giving me Dita Von Teese, but what I do know is this collection has SPICE. It’s seems fit for the same fallen angel type I just wrote about Dilara’s collection reminding me of, with the difference being that in this scenario, god (…or his angels…or whoever it is that takes care of the banishing from heaven stuff if you’re so inclined to that way of thinking) drops her into a crowd of Y2K party girls rather than 19th century Britain. I am hyper aware of how niche my analogy is here, so I apologise that I need to be this pretentious and self-referential, but…I’m just fully aware I’m not capable of holding anybody’s attention for long enough for them to otherwise know what I’m going on about, lol! A vivid, easily stimulated imagination is a blessing and a curse, play your tiny violins for me:-)

-clockwise l-r: Chloé RTW F/W24, Tom Ford “, Burberry “, Oude Waag “-

10. Chloé RTW F/W24, creative dir. Chemena Kamali: This collection was SOOOO GORGEOUS, I HAVE NO WORDS. This is the wardrobe of modernised 70s goddess come to life-soft, decadent, ethereal, just ARGH! Perfection in every way. I am so excited for everything Chemena Kamali is going to do with Chloé if this is anything to go by.

11. Tom Ford RTW F/W24, creative dir. Peter Hawkings: I’ve never really expected anything from Tom Ford. Like when I think of Tom Ford, I usually think of perfume? Expensive perfume but perfume, nonetheless. But you know what, this kind of ate? IDK what was in the water with these designers when RTW F/W24 collections were being put to paper, but once again, this collection was very reminiscent of the Studio 54 era. It seems a minimalist yet luxuriant kind of modern spin on the colours, shapes and fabrics of late 70s bohemian rock, only in a way where the end results are tailored towards the competitors at every decadent invitation-only party’s unspoken best dressed contest. If the brief is expensive, eye-catching, bold, something which moulds the wearer into being the “you either want to be her or be with her” cliche then any number of the pieces from this Tom Ford collection would hit all the criteria.

12. Burberry RTW F/W24, creative dir. Daniel Lee: Burberry is so hit or miss for me, but this was a dramatic yet practical, luxurious, at-times punk influenced hit. Am I saying that because there’s a bit of tartan? Perhaps. But what I am sure of is that I would commit crimes for some of these coats honestly. Speaking of, I might be way off but the fur pieces are a bit mob-wife if my understanding of that vibe is anywhere near accurate. I feel increasingly out of touch with the internet so I don’t actually know, but if I’m right, this is the kind of thing I’d be alright with mafia money paying for. Reassuringly, when envisioning what I’d wear with a knock-off outerwear piece inspired by this Burberry collection, I did not once start to feel like I was veering into the RHONJ cast cosplay zone so I feel like despite the excess, these hopefully faux (though probably not) furs pass the sophistication test. Regardless, it’s okay, I’m not getting anywhere near purchasing the real thing anyway, lol.

13. Oude Waag RTW F/W24, creative dir. Jingwei Yin: Courrèges with a sprinkle of ‘90s grunge and a hint of Morticia Adams. That is to say that I loved the Courrèges F/W24 collection but I love this even more.

-clockwise l-r: Cecilie Bahnsen RTW F/W24, Marni “ Ottolinger “, Moncler Grenoble “-

14. Cecilie Bahnsen RTW F/W24, creative dir.”: a somewhat utilitarian repurposing of her signature dainty, whimsical approach to womenswear, Cecilie’s F/W collection found itself in alignment with the widespread appreciation of softness, delicacy, and innocence that’s been a prominent theme of this year’s F/W24 collections. But this is no case of Cecilie jumping on the bandwagon. Cecilie has excelled at this kind of thing for years, and I’ve pretty much always a fan of her vision. She’s never aggressively chaste or child like in her designs, and does it in a way that’s subtle enough to set her apart from the many, many designers who tried their hand at going all cottagecore this year. Mostly, Cecilie relies on gentle silhouettes and playful yet elegant fabrics to evoke a sense of both fragility and mischief fuelled allure, which in turn creates a sprite-like feel to her looks. All that being said, her work is multidimensional, equally grounded in and hardened by reality, suitable for a jaded 21st century woman. In this sense, as much as I see Cecilie’s collection is not dissimilar from a lot of the others that debuted this season, it is also quietly confident that the pivot towards this wistful, semi-angelic vibe is best when it’s done in a low-key way, and balanced out by a sullen sartorial armour of grungy utilitarianism: I like to follow the guidance of my Google image archive of Courtney Love 90’s style when I envision an outfit, so when it comes to Cecilie’s instinct to finish off a tulle dress with a clunky shoe as RTW F/W proved she knows how and when to do with tact, my appreciation for her work each time feels driven by a force of habit.

15. Marni RTW F/W24, creative dir. Francesco Risso: The FUR COATS!!! Yeah that’s ART.

16. Ottolinger RTW F/W24, creative dir(s). Christa Bösch and Cosima Gadient:  Impromptu after-hours metal concert at the corporate office? Wild end of financial quarter orgy? Apocalypse hits the Conde Nast HQ? The stealth wealth Pinterest girlies find themselves contestants in a Battle Royale type situation? We’ll never know exactly what the starting point was for this Ottolinger collection but it feels like the visual devolution of the high-powered professional, a deconstruction of that idea of what’s tasteful, sophisticated, intelligent, into something that’s liberated, futuristic, a lot more punk, and generally much more suited to joining a biker gang than sitting in a boardroom negotiating the value of a 2 page Dior (bleurgh) spread. It’s a very hot and very cool collection, I know that much anyway!

17. Moncler Grenoble RTW F/W24, creative dir. Reno Ruffini: Cosy but cunty? Yeah, I’m on board. And I say this despite the probability of me ever going on the kind of holiday which necessitates I own anything like this being slim to none. Not only because such trips are the kind of things that I can only see the appeal of to rich people, who get to go on so many “vacations” a year they don’t see a skiing trip as sacrifice of what could’ve been a week spent spent sun soaking by the pool in an all-inclusive Spanish resort (because I’m not hitting the necessary vitamin D threshold any time soon without this kind of get away, let’s be real) but also because I find skateboarding difficult enough without adding snow into the mix and the risk of death for some as inherently incapable of keeping my balance for more than about 20 seconds at a time as I am is very high.

-clockwise l-r: Alaïa RTW F/W24, Alberta Ferretti “, Alexis Mabille Haute Couture S/S24, Yuhan Wang RTW F/W24, Etro “, Roberto Cavalli “, Zimmerman “, Altuzarra “-

18. Alaïa RTW F/W24, creative dir. Pieter Mulier: Now having my expectations set high by Cher Horowitz spending her potential last moments at the hands of a dangerous criminal pleading her Alaïa dress be spared like a mother would her firstborn child, when the brand returned to being a fashion week fixture, I was disappointed. It was nice but nothing breathtaking. This collection, though? Stunnnnning. I too would take affront at a mugger’s rough-handedness with my clothing more so than the mugging in itself if these pieces were collateral damage. Would kinda feel like at work when people fill up our baskets with wine and run out. Like you want to steal, I’m laissez-faire on the matter, but how dare you take our baskets in the process? Bring a tote bag, losers!

19. Alberta Feretti RTW F/W24, creative dir.“: not sure exactly why but Alberta Feretti is often interchangeable with Ermanno Scervino for me. Maybe it’s because they both have names I would sound like a FOOL pronouncing, but they also have a similar aesthetic. Neither are out here shaking the status quo but I always love their collections. This year Alberta edged it for me. Not unlike Scervino, the choice of an earthy, subdued colour palette for the season felt like an intentional choice to contextualise the F/W24 collection’s existence as a companion to the S/S24 line, with rich, moody hues positioning the garments as the sensual night time follow up to the daywear collection.  It is clear where Ferretti going with the S/S garments; they captured the essence of what I imagine an idyllic summer spent lovestruck in Lake Como would be perfectly, and there were some divine pieces. The F/W collection, however, had a lot more drama to it, going beyond the free-flowing, ornate style Ferretti is known for and adding a little androgyny, and at times gothic mystery. If the S/S24 collection was giving me a bit of a goddess off-duty in the human realm vibe, the F/W24 outfits bounced between signalling an effortless yet imposing sophistication in the face of a unexpectedly harsh winter in the city, and a plethora of dresses which would be just the right choice for a moonlight red carpet against the backdrop of the Italian lakes. In both instances, the clothes lend themselves to a wearer who catches every eye on the room but remains aloof, unattainable, like they have much more important places to be. I almost wrote that the dresses would be a good fit for the Cannes film festival before I remembered that Cannes is in the South of France, which doesn’t speak to the distinctly Mediterranean feel I get from a lot of this collection. I can see a lot of the casual looks in Paris, for sure, and I am perhaps making my judgement based on the prominence of the olive tones throughout the collection, lol, but I just don’t feel like the deep Jewell tones and the silks are fit for a city which I’ve always known to be pretty much climatically similar to London. The dresses which closed this collection need SHIMMER and SUNLIGHT, overcast would kill the magic. It’s not just the olives!

20. Alexis Mabille Haute Couture S/S24, creative dir.”: there’s always going to be at least one pretty dress collection in my top 25, and this Alexis Mabille Haute Couture offering is this year’s offering of choice. It’s very modern Disney Princess I think!

21. Yuhan Wang RTW F/W24, creative dir.”: since the day I first stumbled on a Yuhan Wang collection, each one that’s followed has been consistently flawless. It’s almost like seeing the fully-realised version of my personal style, in this reality where I could afford it ofc, come to life. It’s that magical balance of cutesy, feminine and flirtatious with a dark, slightly gothic force which toughens the former up and adds just the right amount of messiness to hint at a streak of rebellion and dare I say it (because it’s a phrase a LOT of people are probably sick to death of, understandably so since Taylor Swift used it to characterise Reputation for FUCK’S sake) but…female rage? I’M SORRY. It’s a little bit punk, but just…punk for the girly girls, you know!

22. Etro RTW F/W24 creative dir. Marco De Vincenzo: As is likely the case for many of the brands I’ve listed in my top 25, it’s highly unexciting of me to include Etro, one of my fail safes in this again. For that same reason, I feel like a fraudulent fan for not even realising Marco De Vincenzo took over the creative director position in 2022. That makes a LOT of sense to me now, because the vibe HAS changed a little bit over the past few years. I think I mentioned before how I’d noticed Etro becoming increasingly explicit with their branding in the last couple of collections, and though it’s easy to say I’m drawing the comparison because both use a crocodile in their logo, I really did think it was looking a bit…Lacoste? A lot safer, more laid-back, bright, breezy, if you get me. But this collection felt like a promising return to form!

23. Roberto Cavalli RTW F/W24, creative dir. Fausto Puglisi: Was this collection a bit tacky at times? Totally. But at its best it felt like a meeting of the early 2000’s socialite look (I’m talking about the stumbling out of the club dresses, obviously), Coachella fashion at the height of its significance in the mid 2010s, and a Studio 54 vibe. When you’ve got such great ingredients, you can never fuck up THAT badly and when you succeed, you get this deliciousness. 

24. Zimmerman RTW F/W24, creative dir. Nicky Zimmerman: Super predictable of me to include Zimmerman in my top 25 but this collection was as elegant, romantic, and catered to the free-spirits amongst us as I’ve come to expect Nicky Zimmerman’s work to be to be.

25. Altuzarra RTW F/W24, creative dir. Joseph Altuzarra: Altuzarra’s F/W24 collection was stamped in my memory for all the right reasons. It was a playfully, modern take on classic silhouettes and tailoring, with a vibrancy about it emerging from a quality beyond the relatively subdued colour palette. Whether it stems from the checkerboard prints, the whimsical head wear, or dramatic ruffles, there’s wit and a lightness of spirit about the collection, which is neutralised by by oversized, androgynous silhouettes and harsh graphic prints. I think for me, Altuzarra’s RTW F/W collection was a great example of how to pull off ditsy, childlike details in a way that transcends the innocence and naivety underlying a kid’s choice of clothing, instead evoking confidence and maturity without losing touch with the charm and nostalgia associated with childhood.

So that’s it’s for now girlies:-)

But on a serious note…I know I previously stated I wanted to start every post by driving home what the Israeli government are continuing to do in Gaza, which in plain terms is nothing short of ethnic cleansing, but for the format of this post, it didn’t fit to do that until now, so I want to reiterate it here: THIS IS STILL. FUCKING. HAPPENING. WHAT. THE. FUCK.

A couple of days ago, the IDF again struck the supposed “safe zone” of Rafah, which they had claimed was a haven for refugees. Their actions continue to be as morally abhorrent as ever. Let us PLEASE not buy Israel’s clear-as-day BULLSHIT explanation of this being a “tragic” accident. You do NOT FUCKING “ACCIDENTALLY” bomb a refugee camp, AN ENTIRE REGION. THAT DOES NOT HAPPEN. I cannot BELIEVE this is still occurring, and that President Joe Biden, in amongst a chorus of Israel’s other defenders, is only now beginning to make vague mentions of a ceasefire. A CEASEFIRE IS NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH. A “TWO STATE SOLUTION” IS NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH. Let’s be clear Hamas have been proposing ceasefires since this entire IDF campaign started. All they have asked for is that Israel stop the attacks, and that they will give up Israeli hostages in return. Netanyahu has TURNED THIS DOWN, because he has no intention of stopping in forcing Palestinians out of the region all together, be it through their slaughter or permanent displacement. The Israeli hostages mean NOTHING to him.

Palestinians deserve to return to their homes, they deserve Israel and every other complicit nation’s investment in rebuilding their communities, reparations, self-determination, and reclamation of the ancestral homelands they have been  continually forced out of for the last 50 years. Maybe we have turned a corner and a ceasefire might finally come but it has NOTHING to do with the Israeli government’s cooperation, and it’s not a just resolution to the damage, destruction and slaughter Israelis and their allies have encouraged and facilitated in any way.

The death toll today, by conservative estimations, nears the 40,000 mark. A report conducted by Euro-Med Monitor, published on reliefweb.int proposes this number exceeds that. According to this source: “The Israeli army has killed 42,510 Palestinians over the course of its 200-day attack, 38,621 of whom were civilians, including 10,091 women and 15,780 children. The bodies of several thousand are still stuck under the rubble, while thousands remain missing and are presumed dead. These statistics include the killing of 137 journalists, 356 medical personnel, and 42 civil defence personnel.” Numbers only do so much, and fail to convey the horror of what every one of those individuals and their families have suffered through. Palestinians are being murdered at a rate of roughly 250 citizens per day, according to a report published by Oxfam in January of this year. If, and when, a ceasefire comes, this isn’t enough, and should be just the start of a push to hold Israel responsible for the destruction of Palestinian people and their culture. That’s what we ought to be reiterating now that these “ceasefire” talks are beginning, as well as the fact that these talks have absolutely NOTHING to do with Israeli leaders developing a conscience. All I can speculate is that as the US presidential election looms, Biden is realising how detrimental his revolting apathy to Palestinian suffering could be to voters. He cannot get away with this half-arsed U-turn nor can any of the ministers who have backed and facilitated Israel’s genocide over the last 8 months. WE HAVE A GENERAL ELECTION APPROACHING IN THE UK! And though it seems likely the Conservatives will be out, Labour do NOT deserve a sweep. The best outcome we can hope for is they end up as the minority governing party, so that even if they win, they know many of us are equally disgusted with their actions.

THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO TONE DOWN OUR DISSENT. Politicians careers are on the line right now, and the incentive for them to listen to what we will not stand for going forward I’m sure weighs more heavy on their consciences (if they have them) than EVER.

AROUND 40,000 PALESTINIANS ARE DEAD. THEIR HOMELAND HAS BEEN DESTROYED. WE NEED TO KEEP THE FUCKING MOMENTUM GOING. KEEP BOYCOTTING, PROTESTING, POSTING, THINK CAREFULLY ABOUT YOUR VOTE. WE DO NOT HAVE A 2 PARTY SYSTEM HOWEVER MUCH STARMER, SUNAK, AND THE TABLOIDS WANT US TO THINK. LOCAL POLITICS REALLY FUCKING MATTER RIGHT NOW!

The fashion is fun and all, but I couldn’t finish this post without reiterating where we’re at right now when it comes to the most pressing concerns we ought to be focussing on. 

With all that being said, thanks for reading if you did! On the mid-year fashion update front, it’s over and out from me! Hope this was somewhat enjoyable, and if nothing else, you enjoyed the pretty pictures-and fingers crossed, I’m echoing the common sentiment with what I included about Palestine.

ONCE MORE FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK: FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE.

Lauren x

[katzirrart]

In the midst of my two spreads of drawing Lucien and Dahlia, I scrolled past a dress from the Atelier Couture 'Luminous Reverie' Fall 2024 Haute Couture Collection and felt just SUCH a compulsion to doodle it at work.

uwu

[engstars-sumup]

Idol Stories- Cosmic Productions

Nagisa Ran

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An Ordinary Day

Eternal Melody

Searching for Destinaton

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Hiyori Tomoe

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Meet and Greet Hiyori

Dazzling, Glowing Sunligth

Ibara Saegusa

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The Vipers Strategy

Food Paradise

Cradle of Turbulence

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Jun Sazanami

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Episode 2

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Reverie

Encounter on Detour

Across the Wilderness, to the Beyond

Shu Itsuki

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Episode 2

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Exquisite Stichwork

What Day is Today

Faraway Haute Couture

ledgend has it That

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Mika Kagehira

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Teach Ban

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Hinata Aoi

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Gentle Meds

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Yuta Aoi

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Budding Violinist

Doubt & Doubt & Doubt

Twiligth malachite

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Rinne Amagi

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Episode 2

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HiMERU

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Past, Present, And-

Hidden Thorns

Tangled Threads and Tails

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Oukawa vs. Suou

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Niki Shiina

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Niki, be in Imminent Danger!

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[costumeloverz71]

REVERIE COUTURE SS030

[otherworldlygarments]

$Mid