#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...

[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!

@yoongiphoria @joonary @ktownshizzle @wobblewobble822 @this-most-assuredly-counts

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@sugainmybowl @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @sugafun @whoa-jo

[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!)*

[vivwritesfics]

Ink

Monaco Tattoo Parlour might be one of the most famous studios in the world. Famed for its incredible work and incredibly attractive artist. Appointment are booked a year in advance. But Charles Leclerc is worth it

Viv's AUgust Event

(Banner by @nurse-floyd )

Sucking in a breath, she walked into the Monaco Tattoo Parlour. A little studio in Italy. There was only one artist, one chair in the studio. The artist was world renowned; people travelled from all over to have him ink their skin.

His art decorated the walls. God, he was talented, but she knew that already. From all of the hours spent scrolling through his social media as she waited to get an appointment with him.

"Can I help you?" Asked the receptionist. His baby brother, she knew from the shops social media. His accent wasn't Italian, but that was because they'd moved over here from Monaco.

Her smile was polite, a little nervous as she approached the front desk. "I've got an appointment with Charles," she said and gave him her name.

He searched through his laptop for a moment before pulling a few bits of paper from the desk drawers. "Fill these out and Charles will be right over," he said and gestured to the seating area.

She sat down and began filling out the paper. As she did, she looked at the flash on the walls. It was all beautiful, all done by Charles Leclerc.

She handed the filled out paperwork back to his brother and sat back in her seat. She'd get any number of these tattoos on her body. Fifteen minutes later, Charles Leclerc called her over to his chair.

He was perfectly polite as he showed her the designs. She told him where she wanted the delicate, flowery pattern and he placed the stencil against his skin. It took a couple of tries before the placement was exactly where she wanted it.

Charles laid her on her side. He pulled on his clear gloves and began tattooing.

He worked mostly in silence, humming to himself. She was fully aware of the nimble fingers working on inking her skin, at the beautiful way he moved.

He was beautiful. Too beautiful to be a tattoo artist. He could have been a model, but here he was, giving the world his art. "Your flash is gorgeous," she said through shuddering breaths as he tattooed over her ribs. It hurt, but it didn't exactly feel bad.

"Thank you," he said, his concentration still on the tattoo. It was turning out beautiful, just as all of his work did. "Is this your first?"

"Yeah," she answered and Charles let out a whistle.

"This is interesting placement for a first tattoo," he said through a chuckle.

She tried to laugh along with him. "Next one will be a piece of cake, right?" She asked and he let out another chuckle. It was a melodic sound, one that filled the room, make it seem lighter, somehow.

There was a reason the shop had such good reviews.

When she asked for a break, for some water, Charles happily gave it to her. He slightly rolled up his sleeve, revealing half of the tattoos snaking up his arms. "Who did your tattoos?" She found herself asking as she laid back down.

After stalking his Instagram for the last few months, there weren't many questions she had. She knew everything she needed, everything but this.

There was a beat of silence, a long pause in which the tattoo gun came to life. For a moment she was worried, afraid that she had offended him. But then he spoke. "An old friend," he answered, sighing through his nostrils. "An old friend did them for me."

"Must be nice," she mumbled. She tried to keep her body still, to not jolt when the machine touched her skin. "Having somebody you trust permanently alter your skin."

It was over much quicker than she wanted it to be. The tattoo process was enjoyable, as was being around Charles. He placed the second skin on the flowers dancing down her rib cage and walked with her over to Arthur's desk.

Charles effectively pushed his little brother out of the way. He told her the price and held out the card reader for her to pay.

"What do you say, have I got a customer for life?" He asked, wearing a cheeky smile as she pressed the buttons on the card reader.

A slight laugh left her lips. "What does that include? Coming back to Italy every time I want a tattoo?" She asked as she pulled her card from the machine and placed it back in her purse.

He couldn't hide his grin as he placed the card machine down and grabbed a piece of paper with care instructions on it. The fact that he had one printed up in her language showed just how diverse his clientele was.

"Trust me, chérie, I'm worth it," he said as she shoved the aftercare sheet into her bag.

Her smile was shy, almost bashful as she tried to meet the eye of the handsome tattoo artist. "Trust me, Charles," she mimicked, nails drumming against the reception desk. "I know."

[kineticpenguin]

Rittenhouse won the Suburban Chud Powerball jackpot: he got to insert himself into a situation he had no business being in with a rifle, forced a confrontation, "defended himself" with said rifle, and as luck would have it, the two people he killed had records that justify any violence done to them as far as like-minded people are concerned. (They also bent over backwards to make the man he wounded into some equally subhuman villain, with mixed success). He got acquitted while the friend who straw purchased his gun for him got to pay a $2000 fine in a plea deal for "contributing to the delinquency of a minor." He got to go to CPAC with his own theme music. He got to meet with Tucker Carlson and Trump, and do the TPUSA and far right loser podcast circuit.

He basically got the best possible fantasy scenario every dipshit has in their heads when they come in from out of town to start shit with protesters. It was the sort of explosive dumbass success that apparently convinced him he's someone the president should have to talk to.

But what did he win, besides his fifteen minutes of fame? Not much. Right-wingers don't like paying for stuff as a rule, so he didn't really make a lot of money. Nobody really cares about him beyond using his face to trigger the libs, so they won't buy his book or compensate him for putting his face on their merch. It's over. He's gonna be some faceless nobody working a faceless nobody job in Texas who peaked at 17 in the worst possible way, wondering why nobody gives a shit for the rest of his life.