#fifteen minutes of fame

[littlemissbuttbutt]

I don't know where else to post about it but I'm super excited that I got noticed by my favorite brand ☺️

[bipunkharrington]

There used to be a billboard up with me on it from a youth group I was part of as a kid, but it stayed up for years and was on the major bus route to my high school and everyone at that damn school would come up to me for years and tell me they saw the billboard, I hated every second of it, but when it was eventually taken down (when I was in my 20s) it made me a little sad

[moondustmanwise]

I woke up this morning to 99+ people liking my sonic game liveblogs, and I couldn't be prouder

[fifteenminutes-if]

Screaming fans. Blinding stage lights. A multitude of camera flashes.

It's all you've ever wanted. It's all you've ever worked for.

So where did you go wrong?

You were always told you had the X factor.

Something indescribable. Something exceptional.

Perhaps you doubted the truth to those words when you took in your rag-tag group of bandmates in your high school music room. But, your first performance together–for a crowd–was electric.

And you've been pursuing that same feeling ever since.

Now, with a recording contract, a debut album, an EP, and a #1 Billboard hit under your belt, your band is gearing up for the biggest album release of the year. With major publicity and curiosity from fans and critics alike, you can feel the potential thrumming beneath your skin. You're on the edge of a precipice. You're going to be a star.

Until the shocking truth hits the tabloids and–eventually–major news outlets.

Your career falls apart before you in a matter of days.

Your manager resigns, the media turns against you, your fans wage war against each other as lines are drawn in the sands of stardom.

You become a pariah.

How will you rebuild your legacy, and what will you sacrifice to reach the top once again?

Fifteen Minutes follows an artist in the music industry who is on the cusp of a meteoric rise in fame until a leaked scandal lands their reputation in the grave. A story about the ugly underbelly of fame, our glaring mortality, and the way love fails to save us from ourselves. Rated 18+ for explicit language, substance use (and abuse), death, sexual content, and mild violence.

Choose the scandal that ruins your character's career!

Customize your superstar's pronouns, gender, name, stage name, appearance, celebrity persona, their engagement with their fanbase, and more.

Make choices that affect public perception, headlines and the media narrative.

Create your character's previous and future discography, including choosing the genre(s) your character commands and their musical influences.

Deal with the aftermath of a career in ruins and decide on its trajectory/how your character rebuilds their tarnished reputation (if they choose to do so at all).

Romance (or befriend) a colourful cast of characters–all with varying degrees of proximity to fame and obscurity.

[THE PUBLICITY STUNT ◦ primary RO] MADDOX, 27, M/F An internationally beloved megastar with a media target on their back. A long trail of broken hearts and sordid deeds follow them, but their talent overshadows their attitude enough for those in the industry to turn the other way. For now. Caustic, jaded, and charismatic enough to get exactly what they want. Fresh out of a public breakup, they're acting out more than ever and the bitter taste of fame in their mouth might just kill them faster than their long list of enemies. RO Routes: FWB PR relationship or PR relationship with feelings involved. (Engaging in a PR relationship with Maddox is a mandatory plot point, but does not prevent MC from engaging in romance with other characters)

[THE INDUSTRY SWEETHEART ◦ primary RO] CARMEN BAILEY, 30, F ◦ she/her The antithesis to MC—a pop star that rose to fame in her teen years and has maintained relevancy well into her late twenties. Carmen Bailey is the golden girl. Gracious, kind, and praised for being family-friendly yet edgy enough to capture both old and young demographics alike, Carmen holds tightly to her image at the cost of everything else in her life. Sometimes, it's difficult to tell whether Carmen herself knows the difference between her image and herself.

[THE RECLUSIVE SOCIALITE ◦ primary RO] MATEO EL AMRANI, 25, M ◦ he/him Born to a wealthy, legendary family within the heart of Hollywood, Mateo shuns the limelight that comes with his heritage at any given opportunity. Unfortunately, the mystery surrounding him keeps the cameras and the public intrigued and hungry. Only close with his oldest brother, Elias, and has a strained relationship with the rest of his family. Often seen as quiet and emotionless by the media, Mateo in reality feels very deeply and desperately wants to know and be known by those he loves. RO Routes: Ex-friends, ex-lovers, or just acquaintances.

[THE JOURNALIST ◦ primary RO] ROBIN FRASER, 32, M/F A shrewd investigative journalist with the ability to destroy a career or launch someone into stardom. Has a history of major exposés and reliable pop culture predictions under their belt. Needless to say, their words hold a whole lot of power. They value truth above all else, no matter how ugly it may be and while they're privy to the manipulations and machinations of the upper echelons, they're not willing to play the game.

[THE EX BAND MEMBER ◦ primary RO] VAL PARK, 24, M/F A whirlwind of a person that has taken Hollywood by storm since their abrupt departure from your life. Ambitious with a cutting tongue, Val is persistent in their chase for fame. Tends to be reckless, hot-headed, and easily provoked with a deep need for independence and creative freedom. While they're not everyone's cup of tea, they've charmed the right people to gain entry into opportunities that you've only dreamed of. RO Routes: Ex-rivals or ex-friends (can opt to have had a crush on Val in the past). Val was in love with MC in both routes.

DEMO TBA

[1mlostnow]

Gang I can’t even see my real notifs bc I finally made a banger post

[necromancelena]

I'm not really a shmup person (the only experience I have was when I got really obsessed with Zeroranger for a bit until I got the true ending and then never touched it again) but ended up going down a 3:00 am rabbit hole last night and set up a pc-98 emulator to play the first five Touhou games and I've got to say. At least three of these are pretty fun!

[mystacoceti]

this is what all celebrities are like more or less. like they're all just so many variations on the clickhole meghan trainor article

[beautifulscreaminglady]

honestly where does trump get his makeup? I've seen bad bronzer and orangish foundation but the man is orange orange.

[lanarchive]

just went bowling with my parents and was making fun of my dad for choking only for him to say "like arsenal" under his breath and when i tell u that shut me up so fast

[erik-powery-for-america]

40 BARRS GOES 0-100 ON YOSHI AT THEIR BOXING FACEOFF & THINGS GET PERSON...

[saylorsuniverse]

BAD AT LOVE --- paige bueckers

summary: you’re uconn’s golden girl, paige bueckers, next victim. but this time, things don’t go as planned – for either of you.

Warnings: pining (mainly paige) playgirl!paige, paige being cocky, reader is hard to get, also reader and paige are two years apart in age

author’s note: lmfao sorry this is so long, and a little all over the place, but yeah. i might write a part 2 of this.

word count: 4.8K

—

Paige Bueckers had it all: the talent, the fame, the spotlight, the money. And girls—so many girls.

Even before you arrived at UConn for your first semester, you’d already heard the stories from your older sister: how Paige would have her arms around one girl at her game, then kiss another at a party later that night. How she’d spread a few well-placed rumors about a boyfriend, only to swoop in as the comforting shoulder to cry on—and inevitably end up in bed with her. How she wielded charm and sweet talk like a weapon, effortlessly getting anyone she wanted.

Your sister’s warning was simple: you were her type—young, naïve, beautiful. But Paige Bueckers was toxic, and you were to stay far away from her at all costs.

It was easy to avoid her. Paige was a couple years older than you, so the odds of crossing paths in the classroom were slim to none. While you spent hours at the library, she was either at the basketball courts showing off or out partying with her teammates. And when you visited your sister at her off-campus house—which, coincidentally, she shared with one of Paige’s teammates—she always made sure to get you in and out as quickly as possible before she had the chance to even see the back of your head.

You’d never seen the blonde. Not in person. And you were certain you never would.

But bliss can make you careless. It can blindside you at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and with the wrong person.

It all started one afternoon before English class. You sat alone near the front, like always, your nose buried in a book, when Paige approached your desk—casual, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d ever spoken to you directly.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?”

The request wasn’t unusual. Different people sat next to you all the time—but only if they were fifteen minutes late. Paige, on the other hand, was five minutes early.

“Sure,” you replied coolly, your eyes flickering up to meet hers—striking, attractive, impossibly blue. 

She flashed a brief, effortless smile, and that’s when you realized you were looking at her a second too long. Heat rose in your cheeks as you quickly returned to your book, pretending not to notice as she pulled out the chair and sat beside you.

“You’re KK’s roommate’s little sister, right?” Paige asked casually—too casually for your liking, as if she already knew the answer but wanted to hear you confirm it.

Your eyes shifted from your book to hers, locking onto those piercing blue ones. You blinked, caught off guard by how she knew that. “Yeah, I am.”

“I knew it,” she said, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “Thought I was seeing double the last time I was at KK’s house.”

Your stomach twisted. The last time you were at your sister’s house, you stayed over the night, and apparently you both were unaware of the basketball star’s presence.

“You always this quiet when someone’s talking to you?” Paige laughed, her voice light, teasing. She waved a hand slightly in front of your face, snapping you out of your daze.

“No, sorry,” you muttered, quickly slipping your book into your bag just as the professor started class.

It wasn’t much—hardly even a conversation—but it was the first real interaction with Paige, and more than enough for her to continue these interactions.

After that, it was the little things: a nod of acknowledgement in the halls, a quick “hey” whenever you both happened to be at your sister’s house. Your sister wasn’t thrilled about it. She warned you not to fall into Paige’s so-called “trap,” and you assured her there was nothing to worry about. You weren’t going to fall for her. It was nothing, you told yourself. Nothing at all.

But deep down, you couldn’t deny it. 

Paige was absolutely stunning—tall, with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was captivating. And the truth was, you couldn’t help but notice the way her attention made you feel.

It wasn’t long before those brief interactions turned into something more—like you were actually friends. Paige started sitting next to you in junior-level English, sliding into the seat as if it were hers all along. She’d impatiently doodle on your notebook or pass notes to spark a conversation, her handwriting a mix of careless loops and sharp edges.

On the days she wasn’t in class, she’d wait outside afterward, leaning casually against the wall with that undeniably attractive smirk, ready to catch your eye as you walked out.

The day she started showing interest in you felt inevitable, though you wouldn’t have admitted it then.

You found her in her usual spot—leaning against the wall, one hand tucked in the pocket of her tracksuit, the other gripping her bag strap. And there it was: that little smile, just for you, as your eyes met.

“Game day?” you asked, glancing at her blue basketball tracksuit that somehow fit her too perfectly. She nodded, her gaze steady on yours, as if waiting for something you weren’t quite ready to give.

You had to admit it: Paige was magnetic. The more time you spent around her, the easier it was to see why everyone else fell so hard. She wasn’t just stunning—she was sharp, charming, and knew exactly how to hold your attention. The way she looked at you when you spoke, her eyes dipping from yours to your lips, was enough to make your pulse quicken.

“Well, good luck today, player,” you said, forcing yourself to break the spell. Her silence was too heavy, and her stare too dangerous. “I’ll see you around.”

Her smile faltered instantly. “Wait, you’re not coming?”

You hesitated, and Paige pounced on the crack in your resolve. She stepped closer, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face—so brief you wondered if you imagined it. “I was really hoping you’d be there,” she said, her voice softer now. “It would mean a lot to me.”

Her words landed harder than you expected, and it threw you off balance. This was her game, wasn’t it? The sweet talking, the subtle charm, the way she made you feel like the center of her world. You’d seen the aftermath of Paige’s attention before—heard the stories about the girls she left behind. You weren’t naive enough to think you’d be different.

But there was something unsettling about the way she looked at you. Like she wasn’t just playing this time.

You sighed, trying to steady yourself. “I can’t,” you said, your voice firm despite the pull you felt toward her.

Paige blinked, her smile slipping away completely now. For the first time, her confidence wavered. “Why not?” she asked, the words quieter, almost hesitant.

And just like that, you felt the shift. Paige Bueckers wasn’t supposed to look like this—unsure, uncertain, even vulnerable. The cracks in her polished exterior made her all the more dangerous, and for a moment, you wondered who was really laying the trap here.

“Good luck tonight, Paige,” you said, stepping past her before the heat of her gaze could melt your resolve.

You didn’t look back, but you could feel her eyes on you as you walked away, and it sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite explain. 

It wasn’t that you needed Paige’s attention. You were never the type to chase after it—in high school, people offered it freely, drawn to you for reasons you never quite understood. But you hated to admit it: the thought of having UConn’s golden girl wrapped around your finger was exhilarating.

And yet, there was danger in that thrill. Paige wasn’t just anyone. She was magnetic, larger than life, and the kind of person who always seemed to be in control. But what would happen if the tables turned?

The idea stuck with you, lingering like the heat of her gaze even as you tried to brush it off. Maybe it was her charm, or maybe it was the challenge she posed—a test of your willpower against hers.

You didn’t need Paige. You told yourself that over and over. But maybe… maybe you wanted her to need you.

The thought made you pause, and you felt the weight of your own hesitation. Was this what she wanted all along? For you to think about her, to wonder what it would feel like to have the upper hand? Or was it something else—something she wasn’t used to feeling herself?

Later that evening, as you sat in your dorm, her voice echoed in your head. I was really hoping you’d be there. It would mean a lot to me.

Three rhythmic knocks on your door broke your concentration, pulling you away from your computation analysis homework. You turned from your desk, ready to answer, when you noticed something sliding under the door.

A blue sticky note was attached to an envelope: Got these for you. Please come to my next game. - P.B.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you opened the envelope. Inside were two courtside tickets to her game against Notre Dame, each adorned with a little heart drawn in the corner. Typical Paige. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

As you slipped the tickets back into the envelope, another set of knocks came—slightly firmer this time. Slowly, you opened the door to find Paige standing there, one hand holding a single red rose. She wore a plain white t-shirt and black sweats, her hair loose and slightly messy, like she’d just come from her game.

“Paige,” you said, instinctively peeking your head out to check for any wandering eyes in the hallway, “what are you doing here? How did you even know where my dorm is?”

She gave you that signature smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I have my ways,” she said, twirling the stem of the rose between her fingers. “Besides, I figured if I couldn’t get you to come to my game with tickets, maybe this would help.” She held the rose out toward you.

You hesitated, your fingers brushing hers as you took it. “You do realize you can’t just show up to my dorm unannounced, right?” you said, lowering your voice but unable to mask the mixture of annoyance and curiosity in your tone.

Paige shrugged, her smirk softening into something almost genuine. “I figured it was worth the risk. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and I’m not great at subtlety.” She glanced past you, into your room. “Can I come in?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the question, and the weight of her gaze felt heavier than ever. You could feel the choice pressing against you like a double-edged sword: let her in and risk falling into whatever trap she’d laid—or shut the door and risk the regret of never finding out what this could turn into.

The consequences of the first option would have to wait.

You stepped aside, holding the door open as Paige slipped past you into the room. She moved with that same effortless confidence you’d come to expect, glancing around like she was taking in every detail. Your desk covered in notes and open books, the unmade bed in the corner, the pair of sneakers tossed haphazardly by the door—your space laid bare before her.

Paige turned to face you, her smirk softening into something more sincere. “Nice place,” she said, the rose still in your hand catching her eye. “Aw, you kept it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I just got it, Paige. What was I supposed to do? Throw it out in front of you?”

Her laugh was low and warm, and for a second, you felt the room shrink, the air between you both growing heavier. “I guess not. But I’d like to think it’s more than just politeness.” She stepped closer, her hands tucked into her sweats pockets, and you could feel her presence in a way that made it hard to focus.

“What are you really doing here?” 

Paige shrugged, leaning her shoulder against the wall near your desk. “I meant what I said. You’ve been on my mind. And, well…” Her eyes met yours, searching. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t stop thinking about you. That’s not something I’m used to.”

Her honesty caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. This wasn’t the smooth, overly confident Paige you’d expected. There was something vulnerable in her gaze, something real.

“And what happens if I say I don’t feel the same way?” 

Paige tilted her head, her smirk returning faintly. “Then I guess I’ll have to work harder to convince you. I’m not giving up that easily.”

You shook your head, trying to fight the small smile forming on your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, stepping closer. She was close enough now that you could smell the faint hint of her shampoo, something fresh and sweet. “But you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

“No, I haven’t,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip nervously as you took a small step closer to her.

You could practically hear the faint voice of your sister yelling in your head, telling you to get her out of her room before you become another one of Paige Bueckers’ victims. But the warning felt distant, muffled by the way Paige was looking at you now—her gaze steady, almost hypnotic.

And the truth was, you liked where this was going. The spark of tension, the thrill of standing so close to her, and maybe—just maybe—you were starting to like Paige too.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her smirk melting into something softer. She reached up, her fingers lightly brushing against yours as she took the rose from your hand and placed it on your desk. “I knew you’d let me in,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath caught as she leaned closer, her hand lifting to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The air between you felt electric, charged with something unspoken and undeniable. Her eyes flicked down to your lips, and without thinking, you tilted your head slightly, closing the space between you.

Just as her lips were about to brush against yours, you raised your hand and gently pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her. Paige froze, her eyes widening in surprise.

“You need to leave,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with reluctance.

Paige blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What?”

You stepped back, breaking the spell as you pointed to your desk. “I have a computation analysis exam tomorrow. And I need to study.”

A slow grin crept across her face, and she let out a breathy laugh, stepping back as well. “You’re serious?”

You nodded. “Dead serious.”

Paige shook her head, running a hand through her hair as she smiled at you, her confidence quickly returning. “Alright,” she said, her voice light but teasing. “But just so you know, this isn’t over.”

You rolled your eyes, walking toward the door and holding it open for her. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight,” she said, pausing in the doorway. She glanced back at you, her smirk softening into something almost tender. “Good luck on your exam, by the way.”

You shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. Your sister’s voice echoed in your head again, louder this time, but all you could think about was how close you’d come—and how much you already wanted it to happen again.

That was when it all started.

The whole rollercoaster.

You had just played yourself right into the hands of Paige Bueckers.

The realization hit you like a perfectly timed crossover, leaving you unsteady, off balance. Paige Bueckers had a knack for pulling you into her orbit, and you’d just handed her the ball. You knew better—at least you thought you did. But there you were, caught between wanting to stay in the game and knowing full well she’d leave you in the dust if it suited her.

It wasn’t like she did it on purpose. Not really. Paige was... Paige. She had this quiet confidence, this magnetic energy that turned heads and made hearts trip over themselves. When she smiled, it wasn’t just a smile. It was a weapon, disarming and dangerous. And when she looked at you—really looked at you—it was like she could see right through you. Past every defense, every carefully constructed wall you thought you’d built to keep people like her out.

It started innocently enough. A few casual conversations. A couple of late-night texts that turned into marathon calls. You’d talk about nothing and everything—her games, your struggles, the kind of stuff you never expected to share with someone like her. She had a way of pulling you in, making you feel like you were the only one who mattered, even if just for a moment.

And maybe that’s what scared you the most. Because Paige wasn’t just anyone. She was Paige Bueckers. The golden girl. The star everyone wanted a piece of. And here she was, making you feel like you were something more than just another fleeting connection in her whirlwind of a life.

But that was the thing about whirlwinds—they didn’t last. They blew in, caused a mess, and left just as quickly. You told yourself you wouldn’t get swept up in it. You told yourself you wouldn’t let it go beyond what it was. But you also told yourself a lot of things.

And then there was that night in your room.

The one where her hand brushed yours, lingered for just a second too long. The one where her eyes held yours a question in them you didn’t know how to answer. The one where she leaned in, so close you could feel her breath on your skin, and said your name like it was something sacred.

You should have walked away. You should have never opened the door. But instead, you didn’t. You let her get closer. You let her in. And now?

Now, you were in over your head.

You hadn’t seen Paige in a few days, not since the night in your room. Your English professor canceled class because he was out of town, which meant no more doodling her name in the margins of your notebook, no more stolen glances when she wasn’t looking, and no more Paige waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall like she owned the place.

This was good, you tried to convince yourself. The time apart gave you space to concentrate on your studies, to focus, and to practically forget about the tall, muscular, attractive blonde who made your mind reel at the simplest thought of her.

But the universe, as it turned out, wasn’t about to make it that easy.

The party wasn’t your scene—too loud, too crowded, too much of everything. You’d only come because your roommate had dragged you along, promising it would be “chill” and that you’d “have fun for once.” Instead, you found yourself tucked into a corner nursing a half-empty cup of something vaguely alcoholic, counting down the minutes until it was socially acceptable to leave.

And then you saw her.

Paige.

She was across the room, laughing at something one of her friends had said. Her head tilted back slightly, her smile brighter than it had any right to be under the dim party lights. She looked... effortlessly perfect, as usual. Her golden hair fell over her shoulders, and she was wearing a fitted sweatshirt and jeans that somehow looked better on her than they should on anyone else.

You froze, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Part of you wanted to turn around, disappear before she saw you. But it was too late.

Her eyes found yours.

The laughter in her expression softened, replaced by something unreadable. She said something to her friends and started weaving her way through the crowd toward you. 

"Hey, stranger.”

"Hi." 

Paige glanced at your cup and grinned. "Is that what they’re calling ‘liquid courage’ these days?"

You rolled your eyes, grateful for the hint of humor to break the tension. "It’s more like ‘liquid regret.’ This stuff is terrible."

"Yeah, I’m not surprised," she said, crossing her arms and leaning slightly closer. "So, what’s a studious Computer Science nerd like you doing at a party like this?"

You shrugged. "Roommate dragged me here. Said I needed a life."

"And do you?" Paige asked, her tone teasing but her gaze steady.

"Do I what?"

"Need a life."

You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. "I guess that depends on who you ask."

Paige stepped closer, her smile fading slightly. "I would’ve asked in class, but... you weren’t there."

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. "Yeah, well, in case you don’t check your email, no class this week. Guess you’ll have to doodle in your own notebook."

Her lips quirked up in a half-smile. "Guess I will. But it’s not as fun without you sitting there, making it obvious you’re trying not to look at me."

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced away. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Sure you don’t," Paige said, her voice softer now. "Always playing games with me."

You punch her arm lightly, rolling your eyes at her comment. "Don’t even right now, Bueckers. I know the rumors about your little reputation. I know the effect you have on all the girls like me."

Paige raises an eyebrow at your words, her lips curving into that confident, knowing smile she always wore when she was about to push your buttons. She leans down, her face inches from yours, and whispers in your ear, "And what effect do I have on you?"

The air around you feels charged, every word she speaks a spark that ignites something deep inside. You try to pull away, to keep your cool, but it’s hard when she’s this close—when the warmth of her breath brushes against your skin, making your pulse quicken. You swallow, trying to steady your racing heart, but the words come out before you can stop them.

"T-that’s not what I meant to say–” you try to explain.

“Mhm, sure it is,” Paige intercedes, her smirk still remaining.

“No, seriously, I didn’t mean that. What I meant to say was–”

“That you’re in love with me?”

The feeling of alcohol coursing through your system and Paige’s insistence ticks you off slightly.

You scoff, rolling your eyes once again, but you feel a rush of something you can’t deny, something that’s been simmering since the moment you two first crossed paths. Without another word, you push past her, your heart pounding harder than you’d like to admit. You make a beeline for the door, desperate to put some distance between the heat building up inside you and the air in that crowded house.

But Paige follows you, steady, unrelenting, like a predator following its prey. She was not going to give up on you that easily.

"Hey," she calls from behind you, her voice more serious than the playful, teasing one. "Where are you going? Was it something I said?"

You ignore her, picking up your pace. Your mind is spinning, and your head feels a little dizzy from the alcohol. But you have to leave. You need to get away from Paige before you do or say something you’ll regret.

Paige was a player, you remind yourself. You’ve heard the rumors—your sister had made sure to fill you in on the stories. Paige was a heartbreaker, someone who never stuck around, who used people for a good time and then moved on without a second thought. And as much as you liked her now, as much as she made your chest tighten and your heart race, you knew how this would end. You’d be just another girl who’d fallen for her charm, only to be left behind in the dust.

You repeat the warning to yourself like a mantra: You will end up like one of those girls.

But then, her voice calls out again, softer this time, a touch of desperation in it.

"Hey, wait up."

Before you can react, you feel a firm hand grab your arm, spinning you around to face her.

"What are you doing?" Paige’s expression is a mixture of confusion and something else—something that might be vulnerability, but you can’t be sure. "Why are you walking away from me? What did I do?"

You want to push her away, keep the distance between you two, but the way she’s looking at you—like she’s trying to understand, trying to make sense of your actions—it makes it harder to breathe.

You yank your arm out of her grasp, taking a step back. "I can’t do this, Paige. I can’t be just another... another person you mess with."

Her brows furrow, her lips parting like she’s about to argue, but you’re not finished.

"I know the stories. I’ve heard them. And I’m not stupid, Paige. I’m not going to let myself fall into whatever this is and get my heart handed to me like all those other girls you left behind."

There’s a long pause, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, she takes a slow step forward, her voice low, almost careful.

"I’m not…" her voice drones off, trying to put her words together. "I’m not here to break your heart, if that’s what you think."

You shake your head, feeling your chest tighten. "Then what are you here for? Because I don’t see anything else, Paige. You don’t stay. You don’t do commitment, and I don’t want to be your next... your next victim."

For a moment, it feels like the ground beneath you has disappeared. You’ve never seen her like this—quiet, almost... hurt.

"You think I don’t care about you?" she asks, her voice sharp now, but there’s an underlying pain to it that makes you freeze. "You think I’ve been trying to play you this whole time?"

You don’t answer, unable to find the words. Your stomach twists painfully at the thought that maybe you’ve misjudged her—that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this than you’ve been willing to admit.

Paige steps closer again, but this time there’s no teasing, no playfulness in her movement. She’s serious, her eyes locked onto yours.

"I’m not perfect," she admits, her voice steady now. "I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m the ideal person, but what I’ve been trying to tell you is that I want something real. I want you."

You blink, unable to process her words. "What do you mean? You don’t do real."

Paige takes a breath, as if steadying herself before continuing. "I know I’ve got a reputation. I’ve messed with people. But I’m not that person anymore. Not with you."

Your heart hammers in your chest as her words sink in. You want to pull away, want to keep the distance between you, but everything inside you is telling you to listen, to give her a chance to prove that she’s more than just the rumors.

"But why me?" you ask, your voice cracking slightly, a mix of disbelief and longing. "Why now? Why would you want me when I’m just another girl you don’t need?"

Paige’s expression softens, and she reaches out, gently cupping your face in her hands. "Because, for once, I don’t want something casual. I want this—us." Her eyes search yours for any sign of doubt. "You may not believe me, and hell, I don’t even know how I ended up here. But right now, with you, I don’t want to go back to the way things were. I want something more than what I’ve been doing."

Your breath catches in your throat, and for the first time, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, Paige Bueckers isn’t the heartbreaker you thought she was. Maybe she’s just... scared. Scared of what this might become, just like you are.

"I don’t know if I can believe that," you whisper, voice trembling. "But I don’t want to run away from this anymore, either."

Paige’s eyes soften, her lips curling into a small, hesitant smile. "You don’t have to believe it all at once. But please… just... give me a chance."

You hesitate for a beat, then nod slowly, letting out a shaky breath. "Okay. One chance. But if you mess this up, I’m out."

Paige laughs softly, relief washing over her features. "Deal."

Without another word, she steps in close, brushing her lips softly against yours. The kiss is gentle, a promise that maybe, just maybe, you can figure this out together.

And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe it.

[i-don-world]

Caught

in the act of -

[juieon]

concerts have been crazy lately like people will camp for days and fight for barricade spots and then all they will do is film the entire concert and get interactions for bragging rights on twt.... like this is what i have seen.... so many crazy fans and sometimes the concert won't even be sold out ? it's like the proportion of crazy fans increased but the total of fans doesn't....

[glossdebut]

study break | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t. As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world. 

✧ TAGS: college au, smut, fluff

✧ WARNINGS: oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, slight overstimulation

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: okay, so this is NOT price of fame chapter two, nor is it the seokjin fic that i’ve been teasing for weeks. this is instead a secret third thing, inspired by my own post that has been living rent free in my brain for the past couple of days. i promise POF2 and the seokjin fic are both coming, but i had to get this out before i lost my damn mind. not beta read, so feel free to inform me of any mistakes i missed. P.S. i know the header isn’t debut yoongi, don’t fucking @ me about it!! i had this photo on hand ):

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.2k words

Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t.

As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world. 

Things were so much easier when you—wrongfully—assumed he was an asshole. At least then, the arrangement was clear: you met him in the library, tried not to get annoyed at what a know-it-all he seemed to be for an hour, and then went back to your dorm with a slightly easier method of memorizing the circle of fifths under your belt. It went on like that for weeks. Quick and effective, mostly painless.

But then, when awkward small talk developed into genuine interest, you got to know him.

You learned that the reason he never takes notes in class is because he doesn’t have to. He taught himself all of the basics of music theory years ago, could’ve tested out and moved on to a more advanced class, but he wanted an easy A in his course load. You learned that he’s a classical piano major. He likes it just fine, but it’s really a means to an end. You learned that he writes his own raps, performs them at underground shows with a group of friends some weekends, that that’s what he really wants to do. You learned that he’s not an asshole and he’s just shy, that he’s been working up the courage to ask you out all semester.

You learned even more about him on your first date.

Such as: he’s the self-proclaimed master of grilling meat, and he’ll load up your plate for you before he even thinks of feeding himself. He may act like he’s not interested in going to the noraebang, but with just the slightest bit of insistence from you he’ll fold like a piece of paper. He thinks it’s cute when you snatch his snapback right off of his head and put it on your own. Even cuter when you fumble through a verse of Epik High’s ‘Love Love Love,’ squealing happily when he joins in. 

And: he kisses like he’s got something to prove. Knows all the right ways to use his tongue. Makes a low noise in the back of his throat when you do something he likes. Isn’t the slightest bit shy about pulling you into his lap, nor about slipping his hand into your panties right there, Epik High forgotten in favor of making you cum around his skilled fingers. 

So. Yeah.

Yoongi is no longer an effective tutor, because instead he is a fucking distraction.

You’re supposed to be studying. You had been studying, both of you putting up a valiant effort for a full hour and a half. But just as you’d gotten a firm grasp on the seven musical modes—Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, Locrian—-Yoongi was whining, insisting on taking a break. You tried to put up a fight, but you’re especially weak when Yoongi gets all sulky, soft pink lips pulled into a pout.

Notecards tossed aside, your fifteen minute study break quickly devolves into half an hour of making out on Yoongi’s bed. As soft music filters into his dorm room from his laptop, you lose track of time with his tongue sliding against yours, the occasional sting of his teeth on your bottom lip because he knows you like it. When you feel his erection pressed against your hip it quickly becomes very clear that you’re both done studying for the time being.

The way Yoongi kisses you never fails to make you crazy. His lips on yours are gentle but commanding at the same time, his hands in your hair holding your head exactly where he wants it as he licks into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls away, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before he’s trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your hips rock up against his, desperate for friction. 

“Baby,” Yoongi murmurs against your skin. His hands slide down from your hair to gently tug at the waistband of your jeans, an index finger circling teasingly around the button. “Wanna eat you out. You want that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, gasping when he nips at the underside of your jaw. Your voice is high, needy, foreign to your own ears. He’s good at that—at pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t know you could make.

He wastes no time in peeling your jeans down your legs, tossing them off the bed and out of his way. Yoongi likes to have as much space as possible when he eats you out, you’ve learned. He likes to take his time, spread you out as much as he can on his shitty dorm-provided twin size mattress. Just because he can make you cum in record time—and he can—doesn’t mean he likes to. Not when he’d much rather drag it out, savor you in every imaginable way until you can’t take it anymore. 

You know you’re in for it when he doesn’t take your panties off right away. Instead, when he settles between your thighs, all he does is look for a moment, his gaze laser-focused on the growing wetness seeping through the cotton. 

It lasts long enough that you start to squirm, his eyes flicking up to meet yours at the sudden movement.

“A-are you…?” you start, but you trail off, suddenly feeling way too fucking shy for something you’ve done with him more times than you can count at this point. 

“Yeah,” he hums, looking up at you with an amused smirk. “Yeah, I’m getting to it, sweetness. I just wanted to look at you for a second. Is that okay?”

You shiver, swallowing thickly as you nod.

“You sure?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, so close to where you want him. “You don’t have anywhere better to be?”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” you complain, sitting up for a moment to flick him on the forehead.

“Yah, so disrespectful,” he admonishes with a bite right where he’d just kissed. “I’m just playing. I know you don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I don’t,” you agree, suspicious. He’s up to something.

“No, you don’t,” Yoongi hums knowingly, holding your gaze as he presses a kiss right to your clit. It makes your breath hitch, even with your panties subduing the feeling. “Because you love the way I eat this pussy, don’t you, baby?”

The answer is yes, of course. Yoongi always makes you feel so good no matter what he’s doing, but eating you out is definitely where he excels. But something about how cocky he’s being makes something stir inside of you—-makes you feel a little bold, a little mean. 

“When you actually get around to it, yeah.”

Yoongi chuckles darkly, snapping the waistband of your panties against your hip. When he lifts his head his eyes are all pupil. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Maybe,” you say, goading.

He clicks his tongue, dipping down to lick a broad stripe over your pussy without any warning. When he reaches your clothed clit, he wraps his lips around it and sucks hard, tearing a surprised moan from you.

“F-fuck!” Your fingers tangle in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to, but the overwhelming pleasure is gone as quickly as it came.

“Such a brat,” Yoongi mumbles, sinking his teeth into the softness of your inner thigh again, harder this time. “Just wanted to take my time, treat you nice. But if you want it like this, fine.”

Mercifully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He roughly drags them down your legs until they’re thrown onto the floor, out of sight just like your jeans.

You gasp when his fingers instantly slide over your slippery cunt, making you gasp. “You get this wet just from pissing me off?” he scoffs, and you shake your head. 

“N-no,” you whimper.

“No?” Yoongi asks, tilting his head at you with a smirk. You feel like you’re going to die when his fingers find your clit, rubbing in punishing little circles. “Tell me what gets you this wet, then, baby.”

“You!” you moan. It feels embarrassingly fast, but you’re close. You’re gonna cum before he even gets his mouth on you properly. Maybe that’s his goal. “You, fuck, Yoongi.”

“That’s right,” he purrs. “You gonna cum already, pretty girl? Before I even get to taste you?”

Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Motherfucker. 

You wouldn’t be able to protest even if you wanted to, your brain already succumbing to the pleasant buzz of your impending orgasm. All you can do is squirm and rock up against Yoongi’s fingertips, completely at his mercy.

“That’s okay,” Yoongi continues, unbothered as you shake and moan in front of him. “I know you can give me another one. Go ahead, sweetness. Cum for me.”

Your release tears through you, sudden and intense and all-consuming. You’re sure there are words coming out of your mouth, but between the heat spreading through your body and the static buzzing in your ears, you honestly have no idea what they could be. Yoongi’s fingers keep rubbing at your abused clit until you’re trembling, gasping for breath between moans.

“Filthy girl,” he hums. Whatever you said must’ve been good, because he sounds almost proud of you as he runs his hands over your thighs. “You gonna let me take my time now?”

“Yes,” you gasp, still reeling from your orgasm. Yoongi taking his time is exactly what you need right now, or else you’ll go into complete overdrive. Absently, you think that was his plan all along, but that thought melts away as soon as Yoongi dips down and delves his tongue into your cunt, slow and thorough. 

Your brain? Empty. Brain so fucking empty.

“Shit,” he groans against you, his voice so low and gravelly you can feel the vibration of his words against your pussy. “You always taste so fucking good after you cum for me.”

You thread your fingers through his hair again, moaning long and low as he spreads you apart with his thumbs and dives back in. His nose nudges just slightly against your clit as he licks into you, the barely-there contact making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Yoongiiii,” you moan, earning an appreciative moan from him as he dips his tongue into your entrance.

Your first orgasm took you by surprise, but you can tell already that this one is going to be a slow burn, tendrils of heat that never really got a chance to fade spreading through your body, adagio.

As promised, Yoongi takes his sweet time. He sets an agonizing rhythm: licking into you, dragging his tongue up your pussy, gently sucking your clit into his mouth, over and over again until you’re practically a puddle on his mattress.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” you mewl, your thighs shaking around his head. You’d blush at the sounds he’s producing between your legs, slurping and sucking at you, if you weren’t so fucked out. Instead, all it does is turn you on even more, make you even wetter for him. 

Yoongi pulls back, huffing a laugh through his nose. “I know, baby,” he murmurs soothingly. “You ready to cum again?”

Wordlessly, you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. Two fingers tease at your entrance, getting nice and wet before Yoongi slides them in, and just like that, you’re ready to burst.

“Nnngh—fuck, ‘m so fucking close,” you slur, grasping at his hair as he pumps his fingers into you.

“Give it to me,” he says, before sucking your clit into his mouth again and making stars burst behind your eyelids.

His fingers curl just right, and then you’re moaning brokenly, bucking up against his fingers and mouth as you cum again.

It feels like it lasts forever. Yoongi moans around your clit as you clench around his fingers, squeezing tight tight tight as heat crashes over you in waves. You feel his fingers withdraw, and then his tongue is fucking into you again, licking every last drop he’s earned from you.

He only breaks away when you’re pushing at his head, overstimulated and spent.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he rumbles, climbing up the bed so he’s on top of you, bracing himself on his elbows. He’s one to talk. He always looks so good like this—swollen lips and dark eyes, the bottom half of his face slick from eating you out so fucking well. “You can just cum and cum for me, can’t you?”

“You are insane,” you breathe, grasping at the strings of his sweatshirt to pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. 

Yoongi chuckles, pulling away just to press his forehead against yours. “You like it,” he says.

“I like you,” you correct, closing your eyes. “Even though I’m going to fail my final because of you.”

That earns a real laugh from Yoongi, his nose scrunching. “You’re not gonna fail.”

“I am,” you say, nodding sagely. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“That so?” He presses another kiss to your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Besides, I’ll just find a better tutor next semester when I have to retake.”

That earns you a sharp jab of Yoongi’s fingers to your side, but he’s got one of those gummy smiles on his face as you squeal under him, so no harm done.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this fic! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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[distantdarlings]

SLUG CLUB TONIGHT // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details, but Reader is wearing a skirt)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theo asks you to skip Slughorn's dinner party with him, but when you refuse, he decides to take it out on you during the event. (Smut)

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Fingering, in public, touching underneath table, reader tries to resist at first, language, dom!Theo (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Meddle About - Chase Atlantic

---

A shuddering breath pushed itself through your lips as you watched yourself in the dormitory mirror. A nervous, borderline panicking student stared back at you. Perhaps it was childish, but you felt like you were about to throw up. You’d never really been a person for going to events—any type, really. They made you feel out of your league.

You closed your eyes and pushed strands of hair behind your ears, holding your hands next to your face for a moment. There was no reason for you to be so nervous. You had as much a reason to be there as everyone else did. Professor Slughorn asked you, just as he’d asked everyone else. Yet, it felt like you were intruding somehow. 

“Merlin, get it together,” you mumbled, running a sweaty palm down the front of your skirt, praying the slight wrinkles would work themselves out. It was fifteen ‘til, and you had run out of time to stall. You opened your eyes and headed toward the door, hands wringing themselves bare. 

It was cold in the vast hallways tonight. A small shiver passed through your body, the chilled air permeating your suit jacket somehow. You wrapped your arms around your body, intending to trap some heat against you. 

You glanced around, trying to spot a familiar face. Your boyfriend, Theo, had mentioned that he’d meet you around five minutes before the dinner party began, yet you saw him nowhere. The anxiety began to creep back into your stomach at the realization that you may have to walk into Slughorn’s office by yourself. You prayed that he’d show soon. 

You continued down the halls, your arms still tightly hugging your body, your teeth still silently chattering. When Professor Slughorn had invited you to join his famed Slug Club, you’d been overjoyed. You couldn’t believe he’d offer you such an honor, though you considered Potions to be one of your strongest classes. He’d told you that you were a pleasure to work with, and he believed you might be on the track to taking his position one day. Of course, you’d laughed at that then, but perhaps he was right. You didn’t mind the thought of teaching Potions, especially if it meant getting to remain at Hogwarts for the rest of your days. With graduation quickly approaching, the thought of having to leave the castle that had quickly become your home made you a bit nauseated. 

“Boo!” Hands jolted against your arms abruptly. You gasped, repressing the shriek of terror that had begun to build in your throat. Theo appeared before you, uproarious laughter printed on his face. You scoffed and slapped at his arm. Dick.

“Don’t do that, you jerk!” you scolded.

“Oh, I’m sorry, darling,” his laughter finally began to die, “I just couldn’t help myself; the look on your face is always priceless.”

“Whatever,” you scoffed. You began to walk past him, not bothering to let him catch up. 

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t be like that,” he chuckled gently, running to fall back in step beside you. You shook your head and promptly ignored him. His hands slid around your waist, trying to show some affection as the two of you walked. 

“Stop it,” you said, slapping his hands away. He didn’t deserve any part of you if he was going to continue to scare you like that. 

“Baby, come on,” he whispered, his lips suddenly against your ear. When did he get so close? His strong arms yanked you against his chest, stopping you dead in your tracks. He tightened them around you, tucking your body against his tall front. His lips, still pressed to your ear, pulled back to reveal his teeth. He nipped against the soft flesh there, his warm breath toasting your cold skin. You shivered in delight, his touch ever so addicting. 

“Stop it, Theo, we’re going to be late,” you mumbled, your words as reluctant as your desire to pull away from him. He always knew how to alleviate any anger in your body. His lips on your ear and neck never stopped despite your words.

“You want me to, baby?” he whispered. “Do you really want to go to this dinner?” His warm fingers gently placed themselves across your throat, teasing his next movements. You swallowed thickly, feeling the motion push against his hand. 

“Yes, we promised we’d go,” you whispered. His hand tightened around your neck. A shock of heat pushed through your stomach at the sensation. 

“You sure? We could just go back to my dorm…,” he mumbled, his mouth hot against your skin. “I could warm you up.”

“Ugh!” You finally worked up the nerve to pull away from him. “We said we’d go to this party, Theo. We’ve got to go.” You’d put your foot down, and he knew it.

“Ugh, but why?” he whined. “We can miss one. He has them all the time. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“We made a promise, Theo,” you insisted. “If you stop complaining and come with me, I’ll be sure to thank you for it later.” His eyes perked up at that.

“I’ll thank you thoroughly,” you specified, a smirk curving the edges of your lips. He rolled his eyes at your persuasion and reluctantly nodded his head. You reached out a hand and waited for him to take it. Though he was a little disappointed you didn’t agree to ditch the party with him, he still squeezed your hand affectionately as you led him down the hallways all the way to Professor Slughorn’s office.

When the two of you finally came upon the warmly lit room, the anxiety seemed to melt off you immediately. You were surrounded by people you called friends, and, most importantly, Theo was with you. Even with the majority of the party’s attendees being acquaintances of yours, you still felt much more confident when your boyfriend was with you. Perhaps that was the sign of an unhealthy attachment…You weren’t sure, but you weren’t concerned about that right now. 

The room was well-decorated with several intricately designed sconces that cast a comforting glow across the large, rounded table in the center of the room. Several of the Slug Club members had already found their seats while others stood, mingling. All of them seemed to be awaiting the Professor, as he did not seem to be currently present. A couple of your friends caught your eye and waved the two of you over to the table. A smile spread across your lips, and you squeezed Theo’s hand, pulling him along with you. 

“Welcome!” A boisterous voice announced itself in the corner. As the two of you found your seats, your eyes found the plump Professor. A large, jolly smile was printed on his lips, and his hands gripped his new suitcoat proudly. He was always very kind; he sort of reminded you of Santa Clause, except no beard. You smiled at the thought. 

“Slug Club members, I hope you know I’ve got a wonderful dinner planned for you this evening and—dare I say it—an even better dessert!” Everyone chuckled politely at that, wandering over to the table to find their seats. 

Once everyone was seated, including the Professor, he waved his hands, and an absolutely glorious feast appeared before your eyes. Your mouth practically began to water at the smell. Everyone exclaimed in one way or another before digging in.

As soon as the room had piled their plates high, the conversation started. It was purely academic at first, as it always was, until it started to slip into much more casual subjects with the Professor leading, per usual. He asked personal questions in an effort to get to know his students better, his curiosity always getting the better of him. 

“What do everyone’s parents do?” he said, glancing around at the circle of congregants, eyebrows quirking. The student just to the left of him started—you were pretty sure she was a Ravenclaw. She mentioned that her dad was an Auror and that he—your lips parted suddenly in shock. Your eyes glanced down to see Theo’s hand placed gently on your thigh. You glanced over at him. He looked completely normal as if he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. Perhaps it was just a subconscious action of affection. You cleared your throat and returned to your meal, ignoring the tick of heat in your stomach. 

The next student started on their spiel about their parents, though every syllable was lost on you as Theo’s hand moved between your thighs. You glanced down once more, melting at the way his hand positively dwarfed your leg. His grip was firmer now. Still, his face showed no reaction to what he was doing. To any on-lookers, he was simply listening to the student speaking.

His hand raised up your thigh, the motion shoving your skirt up against the bend of your hips. You gasped slightly at the exposure of your skin but noticed that the thick tablecloth concealed you from anyone near you. A breath of relief washed through you at that but was quickly interrupted when his pinky traced down your core through your underwear. You repressed a gasp at the sensation, cursing your body from the moisture that began to gather within the thin fabric of your bottoms. Fuck. 

Theo’s lips branded a slight smirk. Fucking bastard—he knew exactly what he was doing. This was payback for not ditching the party with him. 

The next student to go was the one just next to Theo. Soon, it would be his and your turn. He didn’t seem to care that the eyes of the whole table were getting closer and closer to the two of you. The student began to speak, Theo’s head turning to look at him. You continued to struggle through your meal, ignoring the way Theo’s fingers traced up and down. 

His deft fingertips slid beneath the fabric of your underwear, releasing your core into the cool air. A shudder spread across your thighs, causing you to squeeze them together in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold. Theo’s fingers abandoned your core, tightened against your right thigh, and roughly spread them apart. The motion shook the table with a sudden thud. All eyes landed on the two of you.

“My apologies. I believe I kicked the table when I crossed my legs,” Theo said calmly, chuckling a bit. 

“Well, that’s quite alright, dear boy,” Slughorn smiled. “Please continue, Mr. McLaggen.” Everyone’s eyes returned to the Gryffindor sitting next to Theo. As their attention was once again pulled to the boy, Theo leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Open your goddamn legs, or I’ll really embarrass you,” he growled, his voice low and threatening. You swallowed thickly, your legs spreading open once more. His hand found its way back to your core, his fingers gently swiping over the bare flesh. Every motion was only enough to elicit a small jolt out of your hips every once in a while. The want pooled around his fingers. 

“And you, Mr. Nott?” Slughorn spoke. Everyone’s eyes came to Theo, who seemed more than happy to keep them there and refuse to cease his movements beneath the table. Your heart rate increased with fear. Still, you worked at your dinner, trying to remain as calm as possible. 

As Theo began to speak, his fingers drew a slow circle around your dripping core, collecting every bit of slick as he could before promptly plunging two of them within your entrance. A gasp of shock and pleasure spilled from your lips. It only came out as a slight cough and drew no one’s concern, but you didn’t know how inconspicuous you could continue to be. 

“Well, it sounds like your family is quite put together; it’s got everything figured out,” Slughorn chuckled. Theo laughed and nodded. His eyes turned to you, as did everyone else’s. Fuck. 

“Um,” you chuckled nervously. Theo’s fingers never ceased, the strong creatures curving against the sweetest spot within you. Your lips shuddered as you opened them once more. You began to speak of your parents, keeping it as short as possible.

“I see…and are you interested in following in their footsteps?” Slughorn inquired. Your eyes found his once more, trying to conceal the panic in them. Had he asked anyone else that question? Was he trying to keep you talking? Did he know? Surely not…This must just be shitty luck. You stuttered briefly before delving into your answer.

“Well, I didn't think about it too terribly much until only a f-few weeks ago—” Theo’s thumb began to caress the very top of your core, the sensitive area quivering beneath his familiar touch—“when you’d suggested I look into becoming a professor.”

“Oh, yes, I remember that!” he clapped his hands together joyously, a smile popping over his face. “I do think you’d do well to continue looking into that.”

“Of course,” you nodded, pushing a smile onto your lips. With great relief, Slughorn moved onto the girl sitting next to you. Theo leaned back over to you.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispered, “I’m impressed.” A coil you’d felt many times in your relationship with Theo began to swirl in your stomach. Fuck, he didn’t intend on making you cum here, did he? Your core began to tighten around his fingers, your legs pressing together. He knew what was coming. He’d felt it often. A smirk fell across his lips, his fingers never stopping.

You bit your lips roughly, hot metal spilling between your teeth. You sat up straighter, trying to push his fingers from you, but he refused. He wasn’t going to do it to you—fuck, he couldn’t… The edge of your finish pressed against you. You were so, so close—

His fingers pulled from you, dragging your slick meanly across your thigh. You dropped a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your legs shaking slightly. Your eyes found Theo’s, and your jaw clenched. He refused to look at you, that stupid smug smirk still resting on his lips. It was probably a good thing he didn’t look at you, else the look on your face might set him ablaze. You were going to fucking get him back. And it was going to be twice as bad.

*Tag List: @lilymurphy03 (if you want to be added to the tag list for any future works, please send me a dm or message in my inbox, thanks!)*

[rubiehart]

INTRODUCING ONLYFANS!READER…

by the time you’d reached your last resort, you and jj been in a relationship for almost a year, a steady one, full of love, romance and a whole lotta lust. which meant, you two weren’t exactly the worst pair to make an onlyfans account.

there was no doubt in either of your minds that it would flop, with jj’s libido, confidence and a body of a damn greek god, and you, prettiest girl he’d ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on, with your amazing body and matching energy towards the whole ordeal, you were bound to rise.

and that’s exactly what you did once you’d collected a fair amount of subscribers, feeding them almost daily with new content, most of the time where you’d take on a more submissive role, let jj take control and steer the whole thing, let him act like you didn’t brainstorm pretty much all of your video ideas, and outfits.

outfits were your whole motivation for the whole thing, jj didn’t have a damn clue where you’d get all this new lingerie from, almost a new set every damn night for him to gawk at you in, before absolutely ravaging you for the viewers on screen, who no doubt wished they were in jj’s place, or yours. who knows?

you’d make twitter accounts where’d you’d tease new content, do streams where’d you’d interact personally with viewers, even sometimes do special commissions and cameos for anyone who was willing to pay the price. and of course, many were.

so, after a while you became this niche couple that rocked the only fans community, not just having your fifteen minutes of fame and dipping, you kept it up, quality video after quality video and each one left people drooling for more of your dynamic.

each night you’d curl up into his side, placing your phone down on the nightstand after making sure it was silenced, because if not you’d have been kept up at night with notifications. jj’s snoring softly and you smile into his warm embrace, always wondering..

what would they request next?

✬ only!fans reader and jj’s insta posts…