"I don't need a man, just accessories."

He knows you'll never love him back. Not in the way he wants you to, anyway. You love him in the detached way one would admire a lovely hairpin— polish, clean, caress, and then store back on top of a glinting jewelry box alongside other toys to be subjected to your whims. That is all he is, a mere accessory. Another convenient item for your public image. Does he mind? No, not really. --- Part 1 of The Lyricist's Collection Inspired by the mood of the song Dopamine by Aespa and motivated to publish into a scenario by effortlyss's writing style, because god do I love some good angst— it satiates my little sadistic heart ♡ He's so soft please be gentle with pooks 🥺 Contains Auto-Cards by LewdLeah but are disabled