Kinktober 2024

【 𝐼 𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐵𝑎𝑑 】

〖 𝑇𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒 〗: 𝐹𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔

〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: Johnny relies on a pretty pop star and a miracle to fix his reputation

〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗: nsfw 18+, semi-public sex, creampie, dirty talk, unprotected sex, maybe ooc!Johnny, Johnny calls reader 'princess'

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"This is fucking stupid."

The phrase often left Johnny's lips throughout the several months of your staged relationship. He wasn't always talking about whatever you had going on between you. You often heard him say it before the two of you walked the red carpet. He never liked wearing a suit, and you hated to admit it but he cleaned up very nicely.

The press had fallen right into your whirlwind romance, which seemed more like a fairytale than the publicity stunt it actually was. You'd agreed to end it with the same amount of drama, and the sky above was gray and cloudy, almost as if it was orchestrated to set the scene. However, as you strolled alongside Johnny, you couldn't ignore the tell-tale flutter in your chest— or the warmth of his hand in yours.

Johnny squeezed your hand, and you glanced over and found him looking at you, a rare softness in his eyes that he reserved solely for you. He was supposed to let go first— make it obvious that he was breaking your heart in front of the carefully planted paparazzi hiding throughout the park. But, he didn't let go, and you realized you'd been quiet for too long.

"We have to make it seem like we were arguing," you began, forcing yourself to look away from him. "Make it dramatic, but don't overdo it."

"Always straight to business with you, huh?" Johnny chuckled dryly, stopping in his tracks.

You turned to face him, "I'd rather not drag it out."

His thumb brushes absentmindedly over the back of your hand.

He sighs, "You were always the pragmatic one."

You met his gaze for the final time, and the performance began. The next few minutes were filled with feigned tears and shouts of betrayal as you and Johnny went through your carefully crafted break-up that had been months in the making. You gave Johnny one last mournful glance over your shoulder as you stormed off, ignoring the furious clicks of the paparazzi's cameras.

Weeks go by without any word from Johnny, and you watch your phone and the news obsessively. Johnny was a contracted distraction and without the days felt too quiet, too normal. At first, you brush off the ache in your chest to an attachment to the excitement that seems to follow him, but as the days slip by, you can't help but realize that maybe it's something more.

You push thoughts of Johnny to the back of your mind as you sit in the hair and makeup chair, getting ready for one of the biggest award shows of the season. Your heart flutters in your chest as you step into your dress. The idea of seeing Johnny again fills you with excitement and nervousness similar to the kind you feel every time you step onto stage. You focus on the way your assistant flits around you, fixing your hair, checking the time, and ordering people around.

As soon as your heel hits the plush red carpet, it erupts into a buzz of energy. The flashing cameras, waves of fans pushing at the barricades, and the deafening roar of photographers vying for your attention brought you back to Earth. This was what you lived for— something you and Johnny had in common.

The carpet was a frenzy of movement, but you navigated through it with practiced ease. Everyone is desperate to catch a glimpse of you post-breakup, and the flash of the cameras is nearly blinding. An all-to-familiar name graces your ears over the cacophony of photographers, and you straighten.