#Celebrities x male reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prael · 1 month ago

Text

Chemistry

Jenna Ortega x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 9,196 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"You know that's not my thing, right? Why even bring this to me?" You throw the papers down on her desk and they spill over the wooden surface.

"Did you even look it over?" She sighs, holding out her hands for you to take them back, "This could help you break out of the R-rated mould you've found yourself in."

"Look it over? You know this isn't my genre."

She rubs her forehead as though she's stressed, "Look, we all have to make concessions, right? It's a few months of filming and a lot of money."

"It's fucking romance," you dismiss.

She raises her voice in response, "It's your fucking career."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You push back, and she's taking a glass from the shelf behind her desk and emptying the whiskey within it in one practised motion. She's keeping her cool and taking a moment to simmer down by cleaning up the papers. The silence tells you as much as her words could. She's trying to help you like she always has.

She says, "You know what it means. You're no George Clooney. You're no Vince Vaughn. One trick ponies are rare. You gotta work on your range."

You stay quiet, clenching your jaw because you can't argue. This is what she does: tells you what you need to hear instead of what you want to hear. She's tough love and always has been. Took you under her wing and at times carried you to where you are today, so who are you to question her judgement?

"Did you ever stop to think 'why'?" She asks before taking a drink. "Why would I bring you a part that I know you're going to hate?"

You cross your arms, remaining silent as you stare at her. She smirks before answering her own question.

"Because I know who they're eyeing for the leading actress. Jenna Ortega. You know she's all the rage these days. Netflix deals and music videos. She's fuckin' viral and she's fuckin' money. Her name is gold so I want you on her fuckin' hip." She takes another sip, watching you absorb the information she's feeding you with an unrelenting stare.

She always gets like this, all the foul-mouthed excitement is enough to convince you that she really believes what she's saying.

"Alright. Got a pen?"

Pre-production is... well, it's different. It all feels a little foreign to you, right from the off with the script reading, because it's obviously such a different vibe than anything you're accustomed to. It's all so light and breezy and a little comical. You don't do comical.

There's no deep-seated angst, or hatred festering below the surface of your character, rather he's kind, loving, funny, a little bit of a klutz. It's a long stretch from the characters you usually play—murderers, drug dealers, car thieves. Now the viewers are supposed to like you?

Most days on set aren't that far outside of your comfort zone though—you don't think. You go through the motions like you always do, take direction and talk to the production crew, and keep it cordial and civil with the cast, especially with Jenna. Up until now, your characters have had a few brief scenes. It's all coffee shops and public parks, pretty places with lots of wide shots and lingering looks in the script, and you aren't sure how comfortable you are with it.

"Camera two," The director calls and you and Jenna take up position.

You grab her hand, and her smaller fingers curl around yours instinctively, holding on tight. She smiles at you and says softly, "Just like we talked about, okay?"

You nod and rub your thumb over hers to ease her nerves. There was this awkwardness for the first few days that has gradually eased away, the two of you talking more often. Not work stuff, which might have been smart. Just small talk. About food and places you've visited, TV, and bands, it kept things light and amicable.

"Quiet on the set."

Silence falls, and your heart rate speeds up. Your breathing is a little laboured as you wait.

It's the first time you're supposed to kiss her and somehow it doesn't feel like just acting, not really. Acting for you is fighting with some rogue cop or soldier, all stunted rage and brute force. Or you're stalking someone through the dark streets at night, the cold metal of the gun in your hand biting at your skin while you focus on nothing but landing a kill shot. There was never anyone looking at you the way Jenna is right now.

She's biting at her bottom lip, hazel eyes peering through impossibly long lashes to stare at you. You've been told this scene is important because it's a bit of a catalyst for the rest of the movie. She's looking at you, you're looking at her, and then when they call 'action' it's supposed to be one of those moments where fireworks erupt and the earth moves. That's what they want; a connection.

"Action."

Jenna bites her lip and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing up at you nervously. She's so much more practised than you, so much more effortless with putting on her act. All you have to do is smile and lean down to meet her lips. That's all there is to it, as the director says: just like that, perfect. But you want him to call cut. To say it's too staged, or the lighting is bad, or that the location isn't right.

No such luck.

You move slowly like she needs to be savoured. Of course, you've been coached, there's stage direction in your head in addition to her hand on your forearm.

Your lips brush hers tentatively, once, twice, and you tilt your head a little further to bring her closer. Close, but still not quite... until she breaks character and giggles into your mouth.

"I don't think you're supposed to be laughing," you joke, and there's an eruption of frustration from the other side of the cameras at a ruined take. You aren't bothered though, and neither is Jenna by the looks of it. She's half hiding her face against your chest and grinning like an idiot.

"I'm sorry," she says weakly, pulling away. "It's so hot in here."

She fans herself and starts pacing, while the director calls out, "What the hell was that?"

You wave a hand, "Sorry, my bad." You try to take the blame. "Can I get five minutes?"

The director sighs and gives in with a shrug. "Five minutes!"

"Really, you don't have to—"

"It's fine," you explain quickly, before turning to the line producer who just happens to be passing, "Hey, can someone cool her down? Maybe some water?"

"I'm fine," she tries to argue.

"You're flustered," you tease.

"You were doing this thing with your eyes. I don't know how to explain it. It was kind of intense, I had to laugh," she laughs again, and it's an easy, airy sound, the kind that soothes, and you decide that you like hearing it.

"I was? Damn," you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"I know this isn't usually you're thing, I'm guessing it's your first kiss on camera? Just relax. It'll be nice," she shrugs, clearly far more sure of herself than you.

You're deep into the filming now. You think you're selling it, this whole relationship thing, making it seem natural as well as making the people around you believe that the chemistry is there. The weirdest thing of all is that you really enjoyed kissing her. Or, at the very least, you haven't minded it thus far. You don't know if that's the right feeling to have, there's no guidebook for this—not that you've read.

Off the set, she's nice, she's friendly and eager to get to know you. Maybe it's weird that she's trying too hard, maybe she just wants to work as seamlessly as possible. Regardless, it seems to be helping, because now, when it's your turn for coverage, you're more than happy to lean in and capture her lips. She's gotten bolder and so have you, to the point where she runs her fingers through your hair and kisses you back, so when 'cut' finally comes and the mood is broken, it takes a few moments to reorient yourself to the real world.

It's easy, you decide.

Now, the two of you have been joking about today for a while. She's been running this rhetoric of how excited she is for the car scene.

You remember your first read of the script and how this part had you almost cancelling the gig. So, sitting here in the backseat, with cameras fitted all around you and Jenna in your lap, is just a reminder of the monumental shift from where you were then to where you are now.

"Just ignore them," Jenna instructs and kisses you lightly. "Do whatever feels natural." She's echoing the words of the director, though from her they're much more relaxing to hear. You kiss her, her body languid and warm, pressed flush against yours. The touches you feared come so naturally now as you put a hand on her waist and trace her ribs, dragging her shirt up a little bit more with each pull.

There's something rather enticing, you must admit, about putting hands on her slender waist, even if it's under the watchful eye and strict instructions of the camera. Especially when her tongue does that thing where it flickers past her lips and finds your own. Fuck, she's good at this. There's no other word for it.

There has to be a call for a 'cut' coming soon, right? It was supposed to be a brief make-out, so says the script, but they don't seem too interested in stopping either of you anytime soon. You've heard that it's normal, to feel aroused while filming, but it certainly doesn't feel right. The fear is seeping in the longer this goes on; fear that Jenna will feel exactly what you're scared she'll feel.

But those short jean shorts she's wearing while sitting atop your lap, hips flush with yours, tend to elicit some automatic reaction, whether you want it to or not.

"Alright, cut! Great work everyone. Break for fifteen!" The director yells, the tension snapping immediately as Jenna rolls away, giggling.

She says something to you, you don't catch what as you blink in her direction, but she's already climbing out of the car, bending forward ever so slightly to give you a tantalising show of her ass before shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later you've made your way to the drinks trailer for some much-needed water, that's when there's a tap on your shoulder and the unmistakable strawberry scent that accompanies Jenna hits your nose.

"You look a little shocked, is everything okay?" She has this wry smile on her face that turns your stomach a little bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you respond stiffly, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long drink. You nod towards her and state, "Good work out there."

"I should say the same to you," She's closer than before, the tip of her shoe bumping against yours as you stand with the picnic table at your back. "You're a natural. And the boner? Nice touch," she mocks.

She's far too cavalier for your liking right now, and more than a little brazen.

"Don't look so freaked out. No one is going to say anything. It happens all the time, don't worry."

"Do you just have a thing for humiliating me, Ortega?" It's a thing the two of you have been doing for a few days, the fake sternness and the use of surnames, like you're pretending to be angry with each other.

"What if I do? Are you going to go file a complaint?" She sings, tracing her finger down the centre of your chest.

"Watch it, Ortega," you respond half-heartedly, and she steps a little closer.

"How about you keep the boners to a minimum from now on though. It's distracting." The smirk on her face grows only more devious before she winks and then turns away, vanishing into the crowd and leaving you alone and in need of a very cold shower.

On-screen chemistry is the single most important thing in a film like this. If you don't make the watchers believe that the two of you are madly in love, then it's all pointless. You're getting good at this, playing this game, this new facet to your role. You think about the warmth of Jenna's kiss and her fingers curled around the nape of your neck; the feel of her in your arms.

Each take gets harder to finish. Make no mistake, it's not that the kisses are a problem, in fact, they're actually a little too easy.

You're both laid in a bed, under the covers, you're on your back and Jenna is half-draped over you. Her hair is a purposeful mess and there's lipstick on your neck. The implication is clear, the two lead characters hooked up for the first time, and you're simmering in the morning after, caught by your character's phone ringing beside you on the side table.

Jenna is quiet, watching the sheets twitch every time you move. You can tell that she's thinking by the furrow in her brow and the way she bites on her lip. The cameras are rolling and you need to answer the phone. There's no one on the phone, of course, that gets added in post. For the purpose of the scene, it's your ex-girlfriend who can't quite let you go.

"Why do you keep calling me?" You look weary like your heart is about to give up. The line is silent, but you know the script. "I don't care if you're upset with me, it's over. It's done. There's nothing left to say."

Jenna props herself up on one elbow, facing you with her dark eyes, her tousled hair falling over her shoulder. She is, in a word, mesmerising, and it feels wrong to turn your face away from her, even to add more angst for the camera.

"I'm hanging up," you continue, staring back at her.

Jenna pushes her hand under the sheets and balls it into a fist. She hovers it right over your crotch. Her character is supposed to jack you off while you're on the phone until you manage to hang up. That's what's supposed to happen.

You fake a gasp as her hand begins to move. When she bites down on her lip in response, it's the hottest expression you've ever seen. You swallow hard and your cock gives an honest twitch that feels as though it catches her attention for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widen and flick to the source of the movement, her jaw clenches and it brings you an almost unwanted satisfaction.

Each fake stroke presses down onto the growing ridge of your hardening cock, but neither of you breaks character or even dares to break eye contact. You keep up with your lines, and the strain in your voice is all too real, "I don't care how torn up you are about this, me and you are finished."

The ache in your muscles builds heat prickling under your skin, setting you on fire. You tighten your jaw in response as a means to control yourself. Only for Jenna to do the unthinkable. She lowers her hand and glides it down the length of your hard cock before wrapping her hand around it.

What's she doing?

She grips tightly, and even though there is a pair of underwear separating the two of you, it's still her. For the first time in the duration of this shoot, you drop out of character completely, staring at her in utter disbelief. What are you supposed to do in this situation? You can't just say something, it's going to get you both in trouble.

She strokes you beneath the bedsheets in tandem with the scene, so no one else has a chance of knowing. So, you keep talking, murmuring some fake dialogue and struggling with every word.

"It's—mmh," you turn your head, squeezing your eyes closed and steeling yourself. This is madness, utter madness. The throb of your cock only worsens the longer her hand keeps sliding, stimulating. It's a hellish limbo. "It's not fair for you to harass me like this, delete my number will you?"

This is the point where the ex-girlfriend realises something is wrong. In the script, she's figured it all out. She recognises the whimpers in your voice, and you're supposed to deny it. But Jenna won't stop touching you, pushing down harder, applying more pressure and using the full length of your erection as her playground.

Your breathing is heavy and strained. You try to clear your throat subtly, "No, no I'm not with someone right now." You glance at Jenna who grips tighter and smiles devilishly. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If you think, for even a second—"

You try your best to focus on your performance, but with the physical distraction, all your carefully practised lines start to fall apart, coming out jumbled. Jenna is rubbing harder, stroking faster, and her hand feels so good around your cock.

This is the point where your ex shouts, and you finally hang up the phone and drop it onto the floor, kissing Jenna fervently.

"Cut!" The director calls. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Suddenly, the two of you are apart. A rush of cold air floods the space between you. Reality checks in again, reminding you that this was not in the script.

"You good?" Jenna asks, and you nod back. She looks proud of herself, the cheeky little smirk that crosses her features is all too telling. A reminder of just how insufferable she can be.

"What was that?" You lean closer and whisper, trying to make sure that the rest of the cast and crew can't hear you.

"That was acting." She responds confidently.

The director interrupts by calling your name and saying, "Alright, next scene. Going to need you under the covers. Prepare the phone call."

Now it's this whole role reversal, Jenna's character gets her own phone call from her own ex. That's the concept at play here. Meanwhile, you're down between her legs. The script says to 'mimic oral sex' which sounds... so much easier than it actually is.

Aiming to ignore the whole ordeal, or at least your conversation and what it could mean, you duck down beneath the sheets to prepare. She's lifting them up and watching you get into position. She's spreading her legs, while a team of assistants adjust the sheets over you to dress up the shot.

Looking up at Jenna under the sheets, through the darkness and at the apex of her thighs, this feels so wrong. She's... pretty. No. You stop the thoughts in their tracks. This isn't a time to indulge. You're filming a movie, playing a role. In reality, this is your job. There's a script, there's a purpose.

Still, the whole situation just feels so strange.

"Action," the director yells.

As per the script, Jenna drops the sheet as the phone rings. Now it's just you and everything below her chest, trapped under a blanket. Your hands are barely hovering near her thighs, and revenge is on your mind. If she can toy with you, you can toy with her.

So you hold her spread legs, grip them firmly just as you hear her answer the call, "If you want to grovel, then go ahead and grovel. Just remember the last time." Jenna's voice is perfect for her character, and just as it's always been, full of attitude and feisty. She's passionate, especially when it comes to putting her acting on display.

Alright, 'mimic oral sex'... first it's kissing. Lightly placed, right at the top of her thigh, little pecks to tease and taunt. You feel the slight tremble beneath your fingertips as she attempts to carry on the faux conversation. They said you shouldn't touch her. They said she shouldn't touch you.

But you feel the heat coming from her. You're mere inches away, and sure, there's the cotton thin fabric of her underwear blocking the way, but even still you catch the barest hint of her scent—sweet and musky. You grip her thighs more intensely and press your lips against the fabric.

"It was one kiss," Jenna continues, and her voice betrays her now. A subtle tremor that undermines how put together she had seemed moments before. It's enough to have you smirking.

You roll your tongue over the shape of her through the fabric, testing your limits. There's only so much you can get away with, but you'll push it. Push it as far as you can, this is the bed she made.

Jenna rolls her hips towards you, and, of course, the cameras can't see this, all they can see is her on the bed holding the sheets and pretending to talk to her ex.

"It didn't mean anything..." She tries again and fails, a breathy moan forcing its way out and revealing the growing pleasure, the need growing in her voice. She has to place her free hand over her mouth as you continue to taste her, your tongue working over her panties with no hesitation, all rhythm and no breaks.

You continue, running the flat of your tongue over her, flattening the damp fabric against her cunt, and you feel her throbbing. It's undeniable, the way she tenses under your grip and shifts ever so slightly, each slight movement an obvious clue towards her struggling with maintaining her composure.

It's not difficult to hear the change in her voice. The shake and strain of each breath only grow worse the more your tongue curls against her panties. Sure, you haven't yet come into contact with bare skin, but simply knowing just how enraptured she is by the teasing, is enough.

You can't help the slight chuckle that follows, and why would you? This whole performance is starting to become very personal, and when you squeeze her thighs, and apply pressure until it's enough to bruise, you can hear the soft mewl as she fights her way through a rather passionate phone call.

"Why don't you just fuck off?" She hangs up the phone and throws it to the side. In a moment, the same hands are wrapping around your head and dragging you close. As if there was any space left to separate you. "Oh god yes!" she moans out—it's all the script. The scene is supposed to continue until there's a fade to black. No one needs to know that the moan is real.

At the very least, she tries to contain herself. Though her hips swaying, and bucking rhythmically against your face say something very different. And the heat radiating from her core is undeniable. The cotton of her underwear sticks to her so heavily, clinging to the slight folds and wrinkles. Enough to get a good idea about what's going on behind it. That there is indeed a welcoming, quivering cunt that might benefit from an enthusiastic tongue.

Jenna's groans take on a noticeable tempo. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop. Fuck. Yes!" Her words are spilling out messily. For a moment, her responsibilities seem to vanish. She's abandoned her character and resorted to feeling your tongue against her pussy with such ferocity that, were it not for your hands pinning her down, she might have suffocated you in that tantalising heat.

As the cameras continue to roll, with filming still going on above the sheets, the pace only grows hastier.

You're aware of your heart rate spiking, the sudden realisation, the knowledge that someone might be onto the two of you, that you've crossed the imaginary line that exists between the bedroom scene. With the flicker of your tongue, that line gets a little more blurred.

And Jenna seems to be in no hurry to stop either. What was supposed to be just acting becomes a carnal need. Her hips wriggle frantically against your gyrating mouth.

"Cut!" Comes the much-needed command, and you rip away from beneath the sheet.

Jenna's chest heaves, her thighs tremble and her toned stomach tenses. You struggle, forcing back the burning desire to claim her, devour her, kiss her senseless.

It's just acting.

Filming goes late into the night, as it so often does. Jenna has a series of scenes with the supporting cast, and you're only there to support them. Still, you make sure to keep watch from the sidelines. She's beautiful when she acts, all passion and fire. That's another reason you're so drawn to her. Everything is so easy for her, flawless. Talented little minx.

Hours after sunset, you stop by her trailer to check in, like you so often do.

You knock, and seconds later she peeks out of the door, saying, "What? What did I do now? Oh, it's you." The harsh greeting melts away into relief, and you grin at the reaction.

"Damn, maybe I'll go then." You make a gesture to turn away, and Jenna grabs your wrist and pulls you inside with all her strength.

"Are you stupid?"

"Me? No, the very definition of sanity." You laugh and follow her further inside. It's bigger than your own, with a seating area and everything. Not that you can focus on the surrounding amenities. Because her black, lace thong is the only thing she's wearing, and, for a second, it leaves you speechless. It's impossible not to stare at the way her round little butt perks out behind her.

Jenna asks, "Like what you see?"

"What happened to your clothes?"

"My clothes are fine, I'm in my trailer aren't I? Nothing strange about relaxing like this." She says as she saunters off, the golden curves of her back highlighted by the single lamp she has lit in the corner. She stands in her kitchenette, bare back to you, pouring herself a glass of red. Her thong contrasts starkly with the honey colour of her skin. She stretches an arm back, and half glances over her shoulder.

"I can feel you staring, you know?" Jenna says, pausing for a moment while the cogs turn in your brain. After a while, there's no point in resisting. So, you close the distance between you, stand behind her, and embrace her thin waist.

"Am I bothering you?" you question, pressing closer.

"Only a little," she leans back into the touch. "But that doesn't mean stop."

An unseen force guides you. Perhaps it's those thoughts that came to mind when you were holding her, on set. What would happen if you just got to know her better?

Your mouth feels so dry from the nerves, but you drag a hand up the length of her waist, over her taut stomach, before cupping her breast. Jenna closes her eyes and hums in response, and when your palm rubs against her bare nipple, her mouth falls open.

You sink to her ear and bite it gently while catching her nipple between two fingers, which elicits a sharp gasp from her lips. You pull her firmly against your chest, and her back presses to your shirt. Fingertips brush her belly, stroking from hipbone to ribcage.

"I figured we had a little unfinished business. Remember?" You kiss her earlobe and grin, fully aware she can't see the expression.

"It did seem to me like you were quite close to being finished," she teases. Your fingers curl and squeeze the swell of her breast, earning a groan. "Tell me. How was my performance?"

"Could use some work," you mumble, kissing the side of her neck. Jenna's breath shudders when your teeth drag against her throat. She sets the glass down, freeing her hand to rest on your forearm. Holding, or perhaps holding on, you can't tell. Either way, it's an invitation to keep going.

"You think so? Looked to me like it was the best performance you had ever seen—ahem—felt."

You chuckle in her ear. All the while, her breathing becomes a little heavier. She even reaches a hand back, curling fingers in your hair to make sure your mouth remains on her. It sends an alarm bell ringing in the back of your head, a warning, a red flag, a stop sign. But what if you don't?

"I'm not like my character," she whispers. "She's all romance, nice dates and lovey-dovey shit."

"No?" you whisper.

"No," she says sternly. She twists under your grasp to face you. Your hand lands on her hip, and before she's looking up at you with her lips parted, she murmurs, "But I do enjoy being eaten out."

This time, Jenna pulls you down into the kiss. The sweet pout of her lips draws you in. She tastes sharp, like the wine, but her mouth is warm and inviting. You take her bottom lip between your teeth, and she moans, her painted nails scraping through your hair. You feel her hands fumbling, then the thud as your pants fall.

"Fuck me," she breathes the command when your palm finds the swell of her breast again. She's pushing you back, guiding you across the room, pinning you onto the arm of her couch. She lifts her knees and presses it between your legs. She pins you there and continues to kiss you, harder, rougher.

She grabs the collar of your shirt, and then the buttons begin popping. The air brushes your chest making you even more aware of the insanity unfolding in her trailer. As she unravels the rest of the shirt, Jenna pulls back, standing up with a cocky smile on her face.

There's not a chance to speak, or even comprehend, for that matter. She puts her palm on your bare chest and forces you back. You crash into the cushions, and the next thing you know, Jenna swings a knee over your head.

In an instant, she's hooking her thong to the side, then taking a handful of your hair and sitting on your face. Your hands move automatically, gripping her thighs, pressing thumbs into the soft, ample flesh. Your tongue brushes across her pussy, and the feeling of your tongue flicking across her makes Jenna let out a beautiful, quivering moan.

Her scent intoxicates. It's divine.

With strong hands, she leads your movements, grinding forward against your mouth. Daring, unashamed, desperate. She's just as much an animal as she is a woman, and that realisation makes your body tense. You part her tender folds with your tongue and taste the warmth of her nectar, causing Jenna to keen.

Her cheeks grind against your lips as she quivers atop you. Her sighs alternate between delighted huffs and breathless moans. As long as you're licking, the sounds keep coming. If anything, they grow stronger and more desperate. She won't hold back, and it makes your head spin, your focus becoming a singular, dizzy blur.

Her juices coat your mouth, slicking your chin and running down your throat. She tightens her grip on your scalp as if trying to punish you. But really, her actions only draw you closer. The taste of her makes you drunk, and not the kind that comes with a hangover in the morning, no. But the kind that makes the rest of the world and its expectations dissolve, leaving just the two of you in the remaining silence.

Jenna's pussy is a beautiful thing, you realise. Swollen and dripping, deliciously wet. It's a tempting treat just begging to be toyed with. You tongue her clit, rolling it back and forth. When you get just the right spot, a tremor passes through Jenna's frame, a hard squeeze of your scalp, as though it had been scalding her.

"Fuck, so good," Jenna groans. "Keep going. Just like that."

More noises pour out of her and splash into your ears, exciting you in a way you've never been before. And the little shimmies she gives you aren't unpleasant, or unwelcome, far from it. Those subtle dances send waves through you and make the motions of your mouth automatic. Your tongue can't get enough. Neither can your hands. You bring them higher, taking her firm ass, sinking fingertips into her plush, round cheeks and pulling her onto your face.

The movement makes her laugh. "Look at you, so excited. Hungry, are we?" You stroke your tongue up the length of her glistening wet cunt, and Jenna twitches on top of you. Her delight returns, a cry of joy and want. "Go on, eat it. Eat that fucking pussy."

The muscles in her abdomen tighten. Sore and taught, every part of her shivers and shakes, twitching and fluttering with your movements. She cries out in ecstasy, as driven mad by your tongue as you are by her taste.

Her thighs clamp around your head. You can feel her begin to writhe, twisting left and right as the pleasure rages through her. She can't control her hips, keeping them glued to your mouth and twitching violently.

Jenna cums, and her juices flow into your mouth. You drink the reward of your handiwork, as her words become hazy murmurs. An erratic pattern of curses and blasphemous platitudes. As if singing all her highest praises.

When she stands, her legs wobble with the aftershocks of an orgasm, but her posture says there are still things she wants, things only you can give her.

It takes seconds. Jenna's thong is on the floor and then she's pulling at your waistband, tugging them down until she has your cock free. Her nails scratch along the length of your length and her palm settles around it.

"Fuck, you're so hard."

Jenna strokes your shaft and gives it a playful squeeze. You watch the heat shimmer and roll around in her eyes as she sizes you up, and the way your cock gives a stubborn and needy twitch. She seems to like that, too.

When her eyes go lidded and she lowers her head down, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue across the head, you almost can't comprehend how good it feels. Your spine tightens, everything goes rigid, and you're left without a shred of control over your voice. That seems to matter not at all to Jenna.

"Hold on," she slips the head of your cock between her lips, just barely, and smiles around it as she smears your precum across her tongue. Before she looks up, meeting your eye, and then forces her head down further, wrapping her warm, wet mouth around as much of you as she can manage. You both gasp as her tongue sweeps along the underside, and you see her cheeks puff out for a moment, then relax once she settles into a rhythm.

It feels amazing, un-fucking-real. Jenna is bobbing her head up and down. Blissful moans leave her with every pass, and the lust-fogged look she gives you should be illegal. Wet sucking and slurping fill the trailer, drowned out by her hums of adoration. Each one sends vibrations shuddering through your cock.

You thread your fingers in her hair. It's a token act, your control as she moves means nothing. In a blink, she's sucking the length of you down to the very base. She struggles a little when you hit the back of her throat, but pushes through, going again and again, deeper and harder each time. Tears threaten in the corners of her eyes. Still, she won't stop.

"Jenna," your voice is thick and strained. "I'm going to—"

A few more passes of her hungry, slippery mouth have you finally toppling over the edge. If she has any intention of pulling away, the temptation or aversion isn't potent enough for her to react. She kisses and slurps, bobbing feverishly, drinking your spurts of cum and caressing your length with her soft, swollen lips.

Jenna stays with you in her mouth, breathing heavily, the look of satisfaction on her face intense and perverse. She takes her time to gently nurse the last pulses from your erection until you're twitching and overstimulated. Only then, and after a minute longer, does she finally concede and pops her mouth off your cock.

The emptiness it creates feels too much like a loss, and yet, all you can do is stare at her, heart hammering and unable to feel anything past the aftermath.

Jenna perches herself on the coffee table, her legs pressed together and angled to the side, letting her hair fall over her bare shoulders. With one hand, she cleans her mouth and smiles at you.

"I guess this puts a line through unfinished business, huh?" She laughs a little. "Long day tomorrow, best get some sleep."

Then just like that, you're half-dressed, watching her slip off to the tiny bathroom to clean up. A few minutes later the trailer door swings shut, clicking behind you.

Outside, the night air is cool and bitter. It snatches the warmth away from the memory of her touch.

They're saying it's going to be a success. Critics have reviewed the project already, including early screenings, and private showings. The reception is very positive. That's great, you know it is, and everything is piling up and coming to a close now. All that's left is one last night, the premiere itself, the main event. This will determine the fate of the film, whether it's a runaway hit, a fantastic start to awards season, or a straight-to-streaming disaster.

"Been a while," the voice behind you says and you turn to see Jenna at your shoulder. She looks exquisite, elegant, and alluring in her gown.

"Understatement." You take the time to look her over again. It was only a couple of months ago you saw her naked and had her on your face. It feels so distant, and almost like a dream. Maybe it is, given how quickly she went cold afterwards.

"Red carpets aren't really my favourite thing. It's... all overrated, isn't it?" She sighs.

"Yeah, you told me."

"I did?"

"At the party, on the last day of shooting. You said, and I quote, 'I hate red carpets, everyone is so fake.'"

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "I must have been drunk."

"You were very drunk," you confirm. "Remember? And you were doing that thing with your foot."

Jenna tenses. "I did, didn't I?"

It was a few hours into the party, and most everyone was way too drunk to even make sense. You found yourself sitting down, trying to stop your head from spinning the way it was. Then she came and sat across from you. Apparently, she'd been drinking more than usual, given the wide-eyed look she had when she'd approached.

"You're handsome," she told you and flashed a drunken smile.

"You're drunk enough to say that to anyone."

"You're smart," she leaned closer, and even in the darkness of the room, you were mesmerised by the way her tanned skin contrasted with the tight, white dress. "You're talented. I'm glad they cast you." She runs her foot from your ankle, along the inside of your leg.

Her toes met your knee. You think you stopped breathing as she traced circles on your inner thigh. You looked up at her face, and she was smiling, a devilish one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You smell so good. Like coffee and mint. It's infuriating." Her shoe slid higher, pressing against the crotch of your pants, and she frowned. "No reaction. Maybe you're shy? Oh, wait."

She pulled her foot back and then bent to the side to reach down under the table. After a few seconds and a few confused expressions, as she fiddled with something out of sight, her shoe fell to the floor. Jenna slid the sole of her bare foot between your legs.

"That's better, right?"

She sat up straight and clicked her tongue. You couldn't believe it. Barefoot, hair down, smouldering gaze and curling her toes against your crotch. It was a lot for you at the time. She smirked, shifting again and sipping a glass of champagne before putting it to the side.

"So, how has it been? This whole romance thing?" She stepped closer with her toes and her heel pressed over your cock, digging in slightly.

"I hated the idea of it. Didn't want any part of it. But being here with everyone has made me change my mind. I've done well."

She started to rub the underside of her foot faster, creating an overwhelming amount of friction. And her smug, smiling face wasn't helping your cause at all. Then she leaned closer, so her chest was bunched up and exposed. She teased the top of your cock with her toes and rested her chin in her hand.

"I think you just have to accept it. Learn to enjoy it. It helps that everyone was so nice to work with."

"Was I?" she asks with a flirtatious lilt, pressing her toes harder against your stiffening cock. "Was I particularly nice to you?"

You choke out a laugh. "You don't need me to tell you that you're nice to look at. But you don't need me to tell you you're more than a pretty face either."

"Do me a favour, undo your trousers."

Now? Really?

"Seriously? Here?" You're sure your voice was shaking.

"Now or never."

The pressure in your loins was undeniable, and you went to work unzipping and undoing buttons. Discreetly you pried them open and pulled down your underwear. Your cock sprung free, and you sighed in relief.

She rested a hand on your arm. It was surprisingly comforting. Then she pressed her foot down to angle your cock against her instep, slipping her soft, warm skin up and down your shaft, barely rocking it back and forth.

"That's better." She smiled sweetly, teasing the head with her toes. "You were nervous." She circled the tip of your cock with her big toe. "That first day of filming, you were so worried about messing up."

"Well, yeah. New role, new movie, no way of knowing."

"Hindsight is always 20:20, but you worry too much. Don't spend so much time thinking about what can go wrong, focus more on the things that can go right."

"Like this?"

"Like this," she grinned as she spoke. Her foot pressed harder and moved faster, stroking you up and down and you did everything you could to keep a straight face as people walked by. Each with an innocent conversation, unaware of what was going on beneath the table. "Besides, you did alright."

Alright. Not great. Not good. Alright.

It's about as much of a compliment on your work that Jenna has ever given you verbally, though you wondered if the foot on your cock is indicative of anything.

"Thank you. I, uh, appreciate the feedback."

"We make a good team." Her eyes narrowed as she focused on getting you off and her top lip stiffened. "Solving problems. Improvising scenes." Her foot kicked up a gear, in a blur, up and down, faster and faster.

"Jenna, I'm—"

"Great on-screen chemistry. Great off-scene chemistry." She pushed you right over the edge with her sole on the underside of your cock. The look on her face said it all. A smile so wide as she felt you twitch against her, throbbing, shaking, and pouring cum right over her skin. "Though you are rather easy to manipulate, aren't you?"

She shot you a wink as she cleaned her foot with a tissue. "See you around."

That image has been burned into your head for a long time since then, though you work to shake it out of there while walking the red carpet. It's all camera flashes and the chore of being paraded in front of them. You follow her lead, and she meets the press with the very embodiment of what they'd want—grace, charisma, flair and passion.

You answer a few basic questions that can't reveal anything interesting or new. Something about keeping the magic, and hopefully breaking it when you win a bunch of awards. Wouldn't that be nice?

"Where do you think this opportunity takes you after the film is released?" one interviewer asks.

"Obviously, any opportunity to work with other amazing talents is an honour. I don't know when, if, or what the offer will be, but I'm certainly happy to be working again."

"And if you had the opportunity to work with Miss Ortega again?" It's a question that she overhears, and she throws you a look over her shoulder.

You try not to stammer. "Of course, if I was fortunate enough, I'd take it. She's... unparalleled."

This has never been your favourite part, it might even be the worst. Sitting through your own premiere, watching your own work, it's like a long, self-aware nightmare. It's a natural reaction, but that's little consolation, particularly when you know what scene is coming next. It's some over-complicated form of torture to watch yourself get a handjob on the big screen. Everyone's watching. Including Jenna, sitting next to you.

This is the cavalcade of self-humiliation.

To your surprise, Jenna reaches over to slip her fingers between your own. It's the gentle and comforting squeeze that's accompanied by a sly smirk from her when you glance in her direction. Her eyelids lower and an undeniable tension builds between the two of you. She leans in to whisper to you.

"About last time..."

You smirk. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"The ending was abrupt, don't you think?" Her teeth catch on her lip, and those sinful eyes narrow.

"A little."

"Follow me."

Jenna stands up without waiting for an answer. Being in the back corner of the screening makes it fairly easy to slip out after her. When you reach the corridor leading to the bathrooms, Jenna looks you over and smirks.

"Tell me," she laughs out the words as she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face and pins you against the wall, "How often do you think about that night in my trailer?" She pushes up onto her tip-toes, wraps an arm around the back of your neck and pulls your ear to her lips. "Don't lie to me, I know you've thought about it."

Her tone is a familiar temptation, and you've missed it. The sensual inflexion in her voice winds its way through every bone and tendon until it's there, inside and immersing you in the raw carnality that Jenna makes you feel. "All the time."

"Me too." She pulls on your wrist, leading you again and heading for the bathroom. You let her, and she pulls you into a cubicle with her, closing and locking the door behind you. "And how many times have you got off imagining it, picturing it." Her hands stroke along the front of your trousers, and the button pops open in her fingers. You don't even get to reply before she says, "Yeah, me too."

There's something perverse about hearing her say that. Something lewd in the way she smiles at you and peels down your trousers and underwear and instantly slumps to her knees. There's no teasing, no showmanship, nothing but blunt hunger, naked and fierce.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, and her eyes dart up, and her lips pause just as she's about to take you. Her hot breath spilling over the tip of your cock.

"Shut the fuck up," she laughs. Her gaze narrows. She sinks her wet, warm mouth down onto your length, swallowing it bit by bit. When the head touches the back of her throat, she giggles as her eyes water.

A moan involuntarily slips out. Your hips buck forward. Jenna's tongue is like velvet, rolling around the tip of your cock, then enveloping your shaft. You can't help the thrusting. It's automatic, primal, a natural response to being encased in her intoxicating mouth.

Jenna looks up at you, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide with anticipation. She pops her mouth off your swollen cock with a wet noise, and immediately, her fist closes around it, jerking you. She smiles. "Wanna do it?"

"That's how you're going to ask?" You scoff, leaning against the cubicle wall, a slight grin pulling at your mouth. "Is the art of seduction really that dead?"

"Well, forgive me if I don't quote poetry at you and cover myself in rose petals," she says as she climbs back to her feet and places her hand on your shoulders. She guides you to take a seat as she jokes, "Poetry bores the shit out of me."

It's almost too fast when her slim hands lift her dress up to her waist. She watches your face, her teeth pin her lip as she reaches down to hook her panties to the side. She slips a finger inside her already dripping pussy. You throb, hard as a rock, when her hand withdraws and she's reaching up and pressing the gleaming digit against your mouth.

You taste her wetness, licking your tongue against it. "Fuck," you growl, the urge to have her, devour her, ravage her takes you.

"You want it?" Jenna sways her hips and bites her lip. Her tight little body was made for sinning, it's plain and simple. You can't resist touching her, teasing your hands up the back of her thighs and around the ample curve of her ass, then pulling her onto your lap.

"Want it," you breathe the words against her lips. Her hand settles around the base of your cock and drags it across her slick pussy. She sighs into your mouth when your thumbs dig into her hips. That's an invitation to slide inside her.

Then you fill her. Her lips seal onto yours, her eyes flutter closed, and a sweet, deep, hungry sound of satisfaction leaves her. It's a sudden rush, everything about this situation, here and now, is a euphoric madness.

She looks incredible above you, her round, firm tits straining against the dress fabric, beads of sweat at the hollow of her collar and the heat in her eyes. Perched on top of you, Jenna rolls her hips forward, grinding against your lap, coiling that hot, wet flesh around your cock.

"God, your cock feels so fucking good," she gasps as she rides you, the way she moves her hips, the wild shifts and squeezes of her tight cunt around you bring the knot in your stomach already. You buck up into her and a ragged cry tears from Jenna's throat.

You seize her hair and kiss her, swallow her cries and moans, her gasps and whimpers, drink every little sound she makes and lose yourself in the rocking grind of her hips. You're both animalistic now. Her with her bouncing, grinding and needy fucking. You with your digging fingertips and the pounding of your crotch against her. It's filthy, it's unhinged.

"This might be the last time we—"

"Shut up," you interrupt.

"Last time we do this."

"Shut the fuck up," your hands dig into her waist, pulling her down and plunging your cock deep.

"Tell me," she says breathlessly, slamming her hips to meet your thrusts. "If we end this right here, is that good enough?"

"Fuck no," you hiss the words. You reach up to pull down her dress, prying her perky, bare breasts free and enveloping one in your mouth. Your tongue traces the nipple and you draw it in deeper. Jenna slows to a firm grind, holding your cock tight inside her before she snaps forward, locking her arms behind your head. You feel the shudder inside her, feel her clenching on you.

It's a deep, powerful moan, straight to your ears, as she cums. Pulling back and grabbing your face in her palms, forcing you to look right into her eyes. The blissful, fucked-senseless expression on her face is priceless, so is the dizzying, tightening feel of her cunt. Jenna collapses, huffing and panting, while you still hunger for more.

You pick her up and slam her against the cubicle door. It rocks under the impact. She giggles and takes a handful of your hair.

"Go on, fuck me. Like it's the only time you're ever going to get the chance."

So, you do. What more could you ever do? Is there anything more rational than drilling Jenna Ortega against a door in a movie theatre bathroom?

"Good, yeah," she wraps her legs around your waist and curls fingers in your hair. "You're getting there." She tilts her head and you claim the side of her throat, biting her neck. "If I tell you that you can cum inside, will you fuck me harder? Is that it?"

You groan into her neck, grip tightens, and you draw her body right to yours.

"If I tell you how badly I want to feel you cum, that it's driving me crazy, would that make it better?" She tightens her thighs around your waist and huffs out the words as though the effort is too much. "Go on. Do it."

The door rattles on its hinges, but you hardly even notice. Everything is her. Her body, her eyes, her voice, her. Your fingers lock around her waist, hold her tight while you pound her. The sweat-slick strands of her hair hang across her forehead, her skin glistens, and you're mesmerised by how good she looks while you fuck her.

You sink your teeth into her shoulder as you fill her. You lose control, twitching, and buried to the hilt, a groan into her skin as you twitch inside her. Cum spurts, your body shakes, her sex pulsates and clenches. She milks everything, and the next thing you know, you're falling back onto the seat, her collapsed on top of you and heaving. Gentle movements of her hips keep the sensations alive until you have nothing left to give her.

Overstimulation sets in quickly, her fingers slowly entwine with yours as you sag back against the seat, trembling and spent. The pair of you stay there, sweat-drenched, messy and grinning, sharing the tangle of soft noises in the silence.

"So, that was..."

"Pretty fucking good," she cuts you off. She rests her head against your shoulder, her hands settle on your arms, caressing you.

"That's what I would have said," you tell her, as you run your hand over her thigh and palm her ass.

"Damn. We might as well get married and drive off into the sunset." She laughs, and you chuckle with her.

"Or maybe we could just do this again sometime?" you ask with a slight grin.

She considers it. Pouting her lips and twitching them side to side. Her expression takes on a knowing edge, something mischievous as she looks you over and replies. "I'll see you around, maybe."

Now that...

That's just cruel.

#jenna ortega smut #male reader smut #smut #x male reader #m reader #jenna ortega x reader #celebrity smut #actress smut

941 notes · View notes

mermaidfanficlibrary · 4 months ago

Text

Lights! Camera! Oh shit. || Yandere Celebrity x Gn Reader

Characters: Ryland

Summary: You caught his eye. Now he wants you. It's as simple as that.

Warnings: Yandere themes, possessiveness, violence, stalking

A/n: He's kinda scummy

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷��꒷꒦꒷꒦

Yan Celebrity who is the big name with most companies. Sponsors only the best. Gucci, Prada, anything expensive and he's had his own collection line. He can't help it if he's got a big name and expensive tastes.

Yan Celebrity who meets you at a meet and greet he was hosting to broaden his name. You weren't even there to see him, not in line. You just happened to be wandering around the shopping center.

Yan Celebrity who sneaks away from the table to take a break, but in actuality he's searching for you. It doesn't take him long to find you in a small café. He approaches you, knowing that you must know him from somewhere.

Yan Celebrity who's taken aback by your lack of fascination. You've got a celebrity right in front of you that wants to talk to only you! What do you mean you're not interested?

Yan Celebrity who goes back to his meet and greet because his bodyguard caught him. He's all pouty now and doesn't want to be shaking hands with all these fans.

Yan Celebrity who searches the news later that day to check how is event went but is caught of guard by the headlines. Seems like a few bystanders took pictures of his interaction with you and assumed you were his partner.

Yan Celebrity who for the next few days, stalks your socials and hesitates to reach out to you. But he got a DM from you to clear up the rumors and say you two barely even know each other.

Yan Celebrity who does so but for a price. You two go on a secret date with each other. No news outlets or onlookers, and it would be on him. He's such a generous guy right?

Yan Celebrity who has a date with you within the week. He did make good on his promise and managed to take down all the headlines with some help. Said help stays quiet though.

Yan Celebrity who goes all out for you. Sure he just met you but something in him tells, no, screams at him to be with you. This couldn't be love right? He doesn't do that, not when he's such a famous man with fan clubs dedicated to his name and image.

Yan Celebrity who ends up having very real conversations with you. He gets to know you and you get to know him. The real him. The one that hates sour things. The one that loves birds. The one that hasn't completely let go of his comfort toy he's had since a child.

Yan Celebrity who knows all the same things. It's a trade of information of sorts. But much more intimate. He hasn't had a conversation like this since elementary school.

Yan Celebrity who ends up hanging out with you secretly and more often after that date. He thought it was just because you were good eye candy. He didn't want to admit to himself that he wanted to be vulnerable with you.

Yan Celebrity who is still a bit of a flirt. He can't help it if he can give some fan service back to his fans. He'll bring you along to meet and greets and other events, and he'll flirt with others in front of you.

Yan Celebrity who doesn't understand when you don't get jealous. Do you not like him that much that you would fight for him? Because he would fight for you if he saw you flirting with someone else.

Yan Celebrity who does everything in his power to know what you like. He makes sure that he at least sponsors all the products you use once. It's his way of making sure you remember him. Remember who you are to him.

Yan Celebrity who invites you to special events like premieres of movies or shows he's been a part of. Charity galas, fashion shows, even commercial shoots. He makes you stand to the side with a water bottle for him so he has the excuse to see you in between shoots.

Yan Celebrity who hides the new headlines about you two from you. His help making sure they never reach your phone. He can't have you know the news outlets think you two are together. That would ruin the whole plan.

Yan Celebrity who is very clingy with you after a while. He invites you to his mansion, secretly of course, and all you two end up doing together is cuddling and watching things he's starred in. He is trying oh so hard to impress you.

Yan Celebrity who doesn't care about his audience's reactions much anymore. So what if they were happy about his new role? You weren't, and even if you were, he thinks he wasn't good enough. Nothing is enough or perfect for your eyes.

Yan Celebrity who needs you to keep his career going. He needs to know you'll see every achievement, every roll, every position he's gotten. All of it is now for you. Because of you. Why haven't you seen that yet?

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

700 notes · View notes

graphedpaper · 3 months ago

Text

Renter Problems 4

yandere!celebrity x fem!reader

Synopsis: Your once childhood nuisance turned celebrity, turned aggressor, is advancing further and further into his delusions, pushing past your boundaries in any way he sees fit. He won't even let you shower by yourself or get a cup of water to quench your dry throat. Just how much of your autonomy is he going to invade, and why is he doing this? Details: Verbal abuse, NSFW, manipulation, fem reader, kidnapping, non-con, masturbation, delusional thinking Warning: NSFW, Non-Con

The warm late morning sunlight glows on your face as you rustle up from your slumber. Your eyelids drudge open, and you blink a couple of times to wake yourself. You slowly sit up using your tied arms, your elbows digging into the biggest mattress you've ever seen.

The first thought that comes into your hazy mind is the sore hunger pains coming from your empty stomach. You look down at yourself. You're still wearing your top and pants from almost 2 or 3 days ago, and you're not sure what day it is exactly.

And when you hear heavy footsteps nearing the bedroom door you immediately remember what happened yesterday and the tenseness returns, making your whole body sore. You try not to dwell on it, but you remember where you are now fully and completely.

You need to escape.

As the tall, smooth white panel door opens inwards you slump back down into bed. You don't have the energy to stay on guard, and you're past starving. Everything feels light, especially your limbs, yet they also simultaneously feel tied down by ten ton weights.

"Hey, did you sleep well?" He asks walking towards you with a cup of hot tea. Good, you were parched.

You manage to croak out a 'yes' and he sits beside you, placing down the beverage to help you up. He strokes your hair as he picks the mug back up with his right hand. You reach for it, bracing for the hot ceramic to touch your palms, but instead, Jacob brings it to his lips, leaving you dumbfounded at his blatant selfishness.

"Oh, you wanted it?" He asks, with a dumbfounded look on his face.

You stare blankly at him back.

'Oh, no Jacob, it's fine, I don't want something to drink after being starved and kidnapped for days.' You think, sarcastic and bitter. Yes, you did want the fucking tea after he threw you around, threatened to cut your finger and neck, and came in your mouth.

"Of course my pretty girl can share with me." He adds sweetly. So sweetly in fact, it makes you question if what happened yesterday truly happened. What was going on? Were you being kidnapped? He hands you the steaming drink and with awkward T-rex arms you manage to lift the cup to your dry lips and take a few sips. The restraints on your wrist... It's awkward, it's janky, it's uncomfortable. The metal cuffs keep cutting into your skin and you can barely do anything.

"Jacob-" You start, attempting to ask him to unlock the handcuffs.

He shoots you a look. A 'don't say it and ruin the mood' look. It sends you a gut-tossing chill, muting whatever you were going to ask him to do.

" Babe, I found this great brunch place for us to try. You must be starving huh?" He quickly jumps to a different subject, before you even have a chance to ask him to take the handcuffs off of you, or let that dangerous stare of his sink in.

Brunch? Like as in a restaurant in public? Somewhere you could get help? Your scheming begins and your heartbeat rises at the chance of being saved.

"I was so worried, because you haven't eaten in a while."

Jacob can see it on your face and he can see it in your eyes. That flash of determination that he hated throughout childhood. The cancer that was infecting this pure love, it had to be cut out and blazed. He could almost hear you plotting your escape from the relationship.

"I ordered it to go, it'll be here soon." He tells He announces to you.

"Oh." You say in crestfallen hopelessness. Your stomach growls.

"I hope this can count as our new start." He adds on.

You try to hide your desperation from his observant eyes as your chance of escaping seems to start withering away. Perhaps focus on something else?

You look into his golden eyes. Today he's wearing a soft-looking grey long-sleeve and loose-fitting cargos. His silver watch on his left hand had been making a ticking sound this whole time, and you hadn't noticed in your narrow-sighted distress. He had clean clothes and a lovely shiny watch, while your hair was a mess, your clothes old.

"What can I wear? Can I take a shower?" You ask him abruptly. You didn't feel like a human anymore, you felt more like an animal. You needed to get away from him, at least temporarily. He scared you, his weird switches in behaviour, from doting to violent.

"I'll give you a bath, and your old clothes are in the other closet." He responds smiling.

Oh god, please, god if you're real don't allow him to give me a bath, please god.

"Jacob, please, just let me shower on my own." You beg. He hadn't seen you naked yet, and it was one of the last dignities you could hold on to.

"You're too weak, now stop it." He snaps, annoyance flashing his face.

And you do, you shut up like the helpless prey you are. And now he'll to see you stripped and all, his hands over your bare body-

'You're not a helpless prey,' you think to yourself. 'Don't ever think like that, especially not in a situation like this.' Didn't you know this well enough? For humans, morale was the most important thing in survival, it didn't matter if the heart was beating or not, first and foremost it was mind had to stay alive.

You blink back tears and slide yourself off the bed, following him to the washroom. He sees it, and perhaps he feels pity for your pathetic form, because he tells you to give him your hands. Hesitantly, you place your restrained hands in his, unsure what he'll do. You wait for him to reach into his left pocket, where he brings out a small flat key, which he uses to unlock your handcuffs.

So that's where he keeps the keys to the handcuff.

You shake out your wrists, free from the restraints and you feel- so light. You try not to look too hard at the red cuts and marks around them from the prolonged use, they give you mind-numbingly painful reminders of the terror you're facing.

"I'll put some ointment on it, okay?" He says, gently, while hovering his fingers above the injuries.

He leads you across his wide bedroom to his bathroom. It's like another room on its own, grand with marble, and a great bathtub overlooking the view of the vast backyard pool.

He turns the faucet of the sleek bathtub, as the water rushes down and echoes the room with the sound of falling splashes hitting porcelain.

You stand near him, not daring to move an inch without the weight of your cuffs. He turns back to you and starts to pull your shirt off. You reluctantly lift your arms up to help him and you quickly cover yourself. You cross your arms over your bare chest and avoid Jacob's burning stare at you. To Jacob, you were overreacting. Why were you so insistent on acting innocent and shy in a relationship? What's the big deal seeing his girlfriend's tits? For fuck's sake, you'd already sucked him off, hadn't you?

You try to take yourself out of this experience while he pulls your pants down, leaving you down to your underwear. You knew this was his motive, but you can almost hear his arousal. The hot, buzzing excitement, disguised as a caring gesture revolts you. He wasn't really washing you out of concern of you being 'too weak', he just wanted to control you and see you naked.

"I can do it!" You exclaim, breaking the silent tension. His fingers linger on the waistband of your underwear. You don't dare to push his hands off of you, but you do step away from his touch.

Jacob brushes his loose hair back with his hand and sighs.

"Babe, please, let's not fight over this, let me take care of you." He says, seemingly exasperated.

He pinches the elastic of your underwear and slowly pulls it down in not very well concealed anticipation. It's a light pink pantie with a small ribbon, you probably got it as a value set from a cheap store. If it was up to you, you wouldn't have to wear this juvenile shit anymore, you'd wear something... tinier. Lacier.

He holds his breath in excitement and when the last piece of your self-preserved dignity on you falls in a pile to your feet he takes a good look. Quick, but a good look nonetheless. That was a mistake though, because now he's harder than steel. He desperately wants to push you against the wall. Hear your heart start to beat faster as your arousal drips between your legs.

He won't do it now, don't worry, you're too weak at the moment. He may get excited at times, but he's no rapist. Instead, he lifts you up onto the sinktop. Dipping his finger into a small pot, he gathers a dollop of clear gel. As he starts to apply the cool gel on your sore wrists, an herbal smell invades your nose. You try to observe him, see if he feels guilt that these injuries were from him. But he remains seemingly unfazed and without shame, as if these cuts appeared from nowhere.

"Shouldn't you apply it after the wash?" You ask.

"Oh, right." He says, laughing.

You force yourself to crack a smile. Jacob wipes the gel off his fingers.

"It's fine, we can apply it before and after, anything for you." Jacob tells you.

Jacob can't help but feel hopeful. It seemed like you were already warming up to him. Of course, right now, maybe you were just faking it, but soon, it would become habit, then it would become a part of you. Then, it would be you, truly you. You would love him, laughing by his side, whether in bed or on the red carpet. No one could deny it, could they? You wanted to drink the tea from the cup he drank from, and you let him help you change out of your clothes, you even smiled at him. Yeah, you were definitely falling for him as well, slowly, but surely. He saw you as a mother of his children, but he could also see you on all fours, being fucked into whenever he wished for. You were so special to him.

The splattering sound of the water quiets down, and the swirling steam rises from the water.

He uses his right hand to check the temperature, and when he decides it's fine, he comes over to lift you from the waist into bridal position, carefully lowering you into the wide tub, akin to a baptism of a baby. He's gentle and caring, allowing you to adust to the hot water.

You turn your head to the wide window, and you can see atop the long, large trees, lush green leaves shaking in the gentle breeze. You can almost imagine that warm sunlight smell, the one that saturates the world in richness and sticks on your clothes, the wind blowing your hair. That summer bliss you experienced as a young girl. You didn't deserve this, to be held captive. You deserved to be a teen girl with her friends looking forward to starting college. Jacob's turned his back, reaching into the drawers for soap, or something, and for those few seconds, his distracted self tempts you to escape like honey to an ant. You want so badly to get up and sprint out, but the fear stops you. When he comes back you avert your eyes to the clear water. Jacob smiles. Your bare skin under the slow-moving water ripples, it's distorted but there.

"You like waffles?" He asks suddenly, kneeling down behind your head as he squirts a cool liquid onto your scalp, sending tingles down your spine. He massages it into your hair as a fresh, rosemary scent wafts around you, the aromatic bubbles starting to form into suds.

"Waffles? They're okay." You reply, uncomfortable at how comfortable you were becoming. Fuck, why was this relaxing? The hot water invaded all your senses and it soothed your tense body.

"What do you want to eat then?" He asks, his hands working at your wet hair.

"Anything's fine, I'm starving." You reply

And it's true, you couldn't possibly care if it's a waffle or a pancake. Hell, give the peeled skin of a potato and you just might eat it with the fervor of a child and a chocolate cake.

Jacob bristles at the word 'starving'. It's just how you said it, almost as if you're accusing him of your pain. It's not his fault, it's yours that you couldn't stay up until a few minutes to eat. It's not like he prevented you from eating, so why were you saying it like that? Why were you constantly treating him like that?

"You fell asleep before dinnertime." He states accusively, his voice going from calm to stiff.

"I know." You reply back, sensing his rigid form behind you.

You don't have to look back to visualize his face, dark twisted eyebrows and a deep, wronged frown. It's best to agree with him in a passive, neutral manner, at least when he's swinging from one emotion to the next. He doesn't feel like a person, he feels like a bomb you must cradle to your chest, one wrong move causing it to detonate and kill you.

There falls a moment of quiet while he rinses the soap from your hair. The only sounds are the gentle splashes of water and scrubbing of soap. He takes a sweet citrus-smelling body wash scrub, washing your arms and torso. He takes his time to wash your legs, and his fingers linger in between your thighs. His fingers brush against your clit and you sit up straighter, alert.

"You might get an infection if I don't clean it well enough, I've heard about it," He explains.

But it's a lame justification, because you both know what he's actually doing. Infection, my ass. He's at the side of the tub now, still knelt down, and his index finger makes a light circle clockwise on your bud, twice. It may have been a mistake the first time, but now it's intentional. You can't help but gasp in horror. You mentally smack yourself in the face, and pray he doesn't take the gasp as encouragement to continue.

"Jacob," You whisper, turning to his face to look at his expression.

His eyes stare back at you, a dark greed filling his face.

"Jacob, not right now," You try to tell him again.

"You'll like it, I promise. It'll feel good." He replies, focusing on making tight circles on your clit as you fidget your legs and splash some water over the edge. Your clit swells with a new type of arousal, and you don't know if it's the heat from the water, or something more internal. Jacob enjoys the scene playing out before him, your body contorting to handle the pleasure he's giving to you, while you try to stay still for him. You're so compliant. You contain any sound that might escape, in fear of egging him on to continue further.

"You wanted this to happen, huh? You asked for a shower? Knowing I wouldn't be able to resist your naked body?" He asks mockingly. He rubs your engorged clit faster, and you clutch the sides of the tub with knuckle-white hands.

You want to deny his words but a moan slips past your lips as that familiar pressure builds up inside you. You want to scream at him to stop but your mind flashes back to the knife he held to your neck, the needle he used to sedate you. He finds satisfaction in your unravelling, all by him, and he can't help but palm his own arousal underneath his pants.

"Jacob, too much!" You whimper.

Oh god, it feels good, but if I come he'll take it as encouragement, oh god, oh no,

"It's okay, you can come, I know I'm making you feel good, so don't shy away." He tells you sweetly, adoring that flushed look on your face, the warmth that comes from your gratification of his touch. It validates him, to see you lose control like this. All those celebrity bitches were already sluts that were used to sex, but you were simpler to please. He could never let you go, you were the only one he could do this to. He's too distracted by his fantasies of you and him, to notice your orgasm as your legs tremble and your moans become a background as he mindlessly draws more circles on your sensitive clit. How would you react to him proposing? Somewhere public, of course, where everyone could see the love you two shared. What about a sweet baby boy, who could grow up to be another successful actor, just like his dad? After that, a beautiful young girl, that looked just like you and him. She could easily become a model with those looks.

Your pleas for him to stop over-stimulating your poor self brings him back to ground as he smiles at your exhausted face.

"Good girl, now let's get you dressed so we can eat."

-----

You two are sitting down on the sofa to have brunch. Jacob finds it more intimate, and casual, than sitting at the dining table. Besides, the dining table brings back bad memories, don't they? While you're devouring liège waffles with intense speed, Jacob has an egg sandwich.

"Is it good?" Jacob asks you.

Jacob wishes you'd instigate more conversations. He wants you to thank him for the orgasm, and the food. Throw up some compliments, and smile at him like you did in the washroom. Can't you stop eating for just a minute and talk to him?

"It's good, where'd you get them?" You ask, and you instantly raise an eyebrow at your own tone after you say this. You said it a little too normal for your own liking.

Could you be getting used to this? How could you act so nonchalant in a kidnapping? Was this kidnapping?

"There's this stupid guy I know. He cooks, owns a few restaurants." He responds vaguely.

"Why stupid?" You ask him, noticing the look of distaste on his face.

"He's an heir to the throne of some country, but he put it on pause and now he causes trouble here." Jacob says. He looks agitated just talking about him.

You're surprised.

"Really? He turned down the chance to be king?" You prod more, eager for any chance to bring Jacob's guard down.

"Yeah." He answers curtly.

Jacob sighs and looks back at you enjoying your waffles and he can almost feel a warm happiness filling everything broken inside him, like molten gold. You were the best girlfriend, you made him want to be better.

You can feel his eyes on you.

It's disturbing.

"Do you have work today?" You ask, avoiding eye contact with him and staring at a painting on the wall.

"No, today's off." He answers, still looking at you, with his arm over the couch in a relaxed manner.

Well, any predator would be relaxed when faced with a puny prey.

You realize then and there that you've lost track of the date.

"Wait, what's the date today?" You ask him.

Jacob hesitates to tell you. He doesn't know why, why he wants to with hold this information from you, it simply feels wrong to tell you something that relates to the outside world. It's a strange feeling that he's never sensed before, he's really not sure of the reasoning he has inside for his avoidance to tell you the date. It then irritates him a bit, that you would ask something like that when you two were enjoying a meal together. You weren't eating with the whole world, you were eating with him. So your attention should be on him.

"Saturday." He finally answers after a few seconds, lying through his playful grin.

You accept his answer, and make a note to not lose track again. You each go back to working at your individual late breakfast when another question forms rapidly in your mind and blurts out from your mouth before you can stop it.

"Where's my laptop and phone?" You ask him.

Jacob pauses eating and turns his body towards you. You can't decipher this look. But it's dangerous, it's dark, it's a warning. You look back at him, not daring to break this twisted version of a staring contest.

"Maybe you'd like to go outside." He says, ignoring your question.

And you immediately understand what he means. Perhaps you wouldn't have before, but you're starting to understand his nature. This is not just an aversion of your question, it's a threat, that he will keep you inside for however long he pleases if you don't act the way he wants you to act. That reply serves as a reminder to you that he's in control here. That it's either you do what he wants and gain some freedom, or remain locked up.

"Yes, that would be nice," You reply, meekly.

"Good, we can go sometime when you're ready."

Jacob pauses, in thought.

"But for now let's stay inside. We can watch my new movie."

#yandere drabbles #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere stories #tw yandere #yandere celebrity #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere imagines #possesive love #possesive yandere #possessive boyfriend #yandere boyfriend #renter problems #yandere smut #smut

366 notes · View notes

somerandomdere · 7 months ago

Text

Yandere! actor x crew member! g/n reader

tags: fluff, slight? yandere themes (duh), you can tell I don't know much about how hollywood scandal works, it's my first fic pls feedback

Fame was everything to Gabriel, it's been his whole life. He was a nepo baby, he has seen the cameras the moment he was born. Blessed with a good face, filthy rich parents, and a flirtatious personality, he was everything ladies wanted in a man.

Until everything came crashing down.

He got into a huge scandal he wasn't even aware of. He was accused of sexually harassing a fellow co actress, when in fact he never laid a finger on her. Sure, he was a well known celebrity and has a history of sleeping around, but that doesn't mean he will force himself on someone without consent!

The scandal got so big he was defamed everywhere. His sponsors withdrew, his parents and friends wanted to cut ties with him, and his girlfriend cussed him out before leaving.

It wasn't him! But at this point, no one believed in him. He started being depressed, having suicidal thoughts, and contemplating on quitting his dream career.

Enter you. Beautiful, radiant you.

After a long day of carrying heavy sets and helping out around the set. You were exhausted, so you went out to breathe some fresh air and smoke. As you lit up your cigarette, the main actor of your current show, Gabriel, seemed to be crying. You wanted to smoke, but you couldn't just leave a crying man alone! and you did want some privacy while taking a puff

"Hey... you alright?" You genuinely asked.

You didn't know much about Gabriel's scandal, since you weren't very interested in the affairs of celebrities and thought that fans should just mind their own business.

And you were just here to make extra money, what's the worst that could happen? You'll be gone in no time anyways. He'll just quickly forget you.

"Hey um..." You started awkwardly, and cleared your throat. "I may not be the best person that can comfort, but you can talk to me. I'll listen."

You thought he would be suspicious of you, because of his celebrity status, but he ranted to you and cried. How he was misunderstood. How the people closest to him never believed in him. How he felt so hopeless after he lost everything.

You reached out to touch his hand. You let him know you understood. How painful this period of life will be and how it will all be fine after.

You told him to take a look around him. Look through a different scope, see the people who actually cares for him. You told him how your uncle never believed any of those rumors and took advantage of this to hire him.

He teared up, not from self pity this time, but from realisation. Maybe he should abandon those people who never saw his true self anyways. For the first time, he looked into your eyes. The sunlight danced over your eyes, it reminded him of the warmth his parents used to give him, before they got too busy.

Maybe that's when he fell for you. He couldn't really point out when he fell head over heels, but he can kinda figure he feelings sprouted here.

He came back, stronger than ever. His acting caused your uncle's movie grossing to skyrocket. It hit the box office, everyone was talking about his movie through social media, how he so accurately acted his role, to the point they shivered. He decided to take this opportunity to clear his name. Due to the how overwhelmingly successful his new movie was, people decided to believe him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Y/N! My name was cleared!" He squealed into the phone. You sincerely felt happy for him and offered to celebrate with him.

He wouldn't let this opportunity go without a waste! He immediately said yes. He wanted to see your beautiful face again, and finally ask you out.

He will finally be yours, and you will finally be his.

@hana-no-seiiki

@lovverletters

@moyazaika

@yxami

@mightypossibly

@suiana

My inspos on how to write fics (and my fav fic writers!) PLS PLS PLS PLS GIVE ME FEEDBACKKK

#male yandere #male yandere cafe #yandere actor #gn reader #yandere celebrity x gn reader #first post #idk what else to tag #i'm actually shaking

571 notes · View notes

multi-fandom-enjoyer · 2 months ago

Text

Y/n is at the set of Wednesday season 2 and watch as their girlfriend, Jenna, finishes her scene.

Tim Burton: Cut! That's lunch.

Jenna sets the torch down before she notices you standing to the side.

Jenna: Y/n, you made it!

The two lovers embrace in a hug before separating.

Y/n: Of course. I wouldn't miss this.

The two hold hands as they walk off set to get lunch.

Emma (chuckles): They're whipped.

#wednesday season 2 #jenna ortega x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x m!reader #jenna ortega #netflix wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday is a softie at heart #x reader #x male reader #behind the scenes #celebrity x male reader #celebrity x reader #celebrity #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday addams

217 notes · View notes

malereadermaniac · 1 year ago

Text

Jealousy looks good on you ~ Kit Connor x Male Reader

So you guys LOVED my last Kit post so here's another one - mild jealousy, Fluff and dating 'headcannons' word count: 850 m!reader (no genitalia mentioned) / FDNI

Before Dating

The two of you were best friends

In the most platonic way, you two were practically already dating

Kit and you were close since Y7

The two of you would cling onto each other, the gingers hands were almost always on your waist if yours weren't on his shoulders

You would sleep round Kit's house every weekend, then he would sleep round on most weekdays "because your house is closer to college"

When one of you got into a relationship, it went one of two ways:

If Kit got into a relationship, the girl would get jealous of you within a week, Kit would get mad at her and they'd break up in a month tops

It was always weird for Kit when he got into a relationship, he'd never really LOVE her, but he just put it down to him being young

What he knew was that he didn't like how his girlfriends treated you, and he hated how because he was in a relationship, you would back off with the clinginess

One time, a new girlfriend of his was alone with Kit, and when he brought you up, she said "Oh that f*g? You're like, actually, friends with him?" - that was the first and last time he'd shouted at a girl

The second option is you getting into a relationship, Kit gets insanely jealous, side comments about your boyfriend and going silent when you would bring him up - totally platonic

Kit would get even clingier, like snuggling his face in your neck "Cause he's tired"

The ginger would even crash your dates 'on accident'

Your boyfriend at the time would go mad, Kit fucking loved it, you were his best-friend after all

But all of his 'platonic' jealousy paid off when the guy broke up with you, and Kit was your shoulder to cry on

He felt bad, but he loved being your comfort, he didn't want anyone else to be as good of a friend to you as he was...

Kit knew he was Bi since Y10, what you didn't know was that you're the reason he knew that

After many failed relationships, the ginger realised that he'd much prefer to be in a relationship with you than any other girl in your year

After all, he had broken down once when you canceled plans to go on a date with your bf - like he cried and all, that must of been his first sign that he wasn't as straight as he thought

And after his glow-up in Y13 (not that he needed one, my god), you fell for him too - HARD

Dating

Kit is the most jealous type of man ever

And you fucking love it

Usually it's really little things, like his hand tightening around yours when an attractive guy is talking to you

Or holding you closer when an ex tries to talk to you

He isn't toxic about it at all

When kit gets jealous he talks to you about it - it's so attractive

However, the last time he got jealous was intense

The two of you were out, not specifically on a date, but just enjoying each other's company

The calm and enjoyable atmosphere was interrupted by your most infamous ex

Kit hated him and his guts

That cunt ruined you, and no matter how much Kit loved to comfort you, this dickhead went overboard

And he had the guts to keep in touch with you!?

As you and your ex chatted, he started to obviously flirt with you

You laughed his remarks of as Kit pulled you closer to him

After a while, Kit had, had enough of him

"Hate to interrupt but can't you see we're on a date here, mate?"

Fuck you loved it when Kit went full on Britt

He rarely did that, but it made your face darken slightly with a blush

"Alright mate no need to be dick, bye (y/n), ill see ya round"

You say nothing, just roll your head towards Kit and look up at him with a cheeky smile

"What?!" He asks defensively

"Nothing... jealousy just looks good on you" you tease tour ginger boyfriend

"Oh shut up" he chuckles, his muscular arm around your waist tightly as he leans his head into your neck

It's crazy how such an attractive man gets so jealous for you, but you love it

The built ginger gets possessive obviously, however that's more in the bedroom than in daily life

He always prefers secluded areas for dates, fields or the comfort of your own home

Mainly because of his new found fame, but the man also likes to keep you to himself

Kit also tries to impress you so much, the ginger feels the need to be the centre of your attention at all times

He'll lift you up to show off his strength, subtly show off his muscles or mention his paycheck for last month

You play into his little games and act all wooed and impressed, and he lives off of it.

Also, mini rant:

Can I just say how fucking annoying it is to search "jealous male reader" and every post is Yandere and shit??? Like bro I want jealousy in the sense that I feel wanted not always 'death' and 'darling' and shit. Rant over <3

#male reader #gay #x male reader #fanfic #fluff #cute gay #kit connor #kit connor x reader #kit connor x male reader #celebrity x reader #celebrity x male reader #heartstopper x reader #heartstopper #heartstopper x male reader #x male reader fluff #male reader fluff #x m!reader

807 notes · View notes

shadowystan · 1 year ago

Text

YANDERE! celebrity x f!reader – he's so pretty, so popular (you really don't wanna be his sweetheart)

No but YANDERE!celebrity with a toxic fanbase.

It's not him you should be scared of. Not his bodyguards or his influential family; not his obsessive ex or crushing best friend.

The fanbase.

Jealous fans would cloud your life. If you have social media, you'd be hacked a few thousand times a week. If you block them, turn off your comments and go private, you'd get doxxed. Plain and simple.

It's upsetting. It's suffocating. And it's downright terrifying whenever you're out in public. Death threats at your face, stalkers outside your door. No peace of mind, none whatsoever.

But of course if you're pretty enough...

YANDERE!fans who want nothing but the best for their idol. Only someone as dazzling as you could deserve him.

(It's set in stone. You have no choice.)

YANDERE!fans who're the epitome of degeneracy. Writing dirty, smutty fanfiction on the side while making ship edits with you and their celebrity. It doesn't matter how many times you've streamed live, asking them to quit it because the both of you weren't official or how much it makes you uncomfortable.

YANDERE!fans who instead of agreeing and respecting your wishes, go as far as to send you everything. Gone are the rules of RPF. They're spiteful, they're overbearing and most of all, they want you to know you have no power.

YANDERE!fans who litter whoever you try to date with messages of "kill yourself <3" or "jump off a roof. respectfully." on their social media comments or DMs.

YANDERE!fans who spread elaborate rumors about you when you do something that remotely doesn't meet their standards.

The air was soothing. The atmosphere lively. You heard the chatter of the birds, the laughs of the couples, the giggles of the teen girls-

"-Let's say she assaulted someone!"

What?

Leaning slightly to the left, you nonchalantly readjusted the dark spectacles framing your eyes. Hoodie pulled over your face and a lone piece of lettuce peeking out of your lips, the thought that someone might recognize you left your mind for the briefest of times.

And you focused on the task at hand. Eavesdropping on the conversation happening two tables to your side.

They were being rather loud. And concerning. Quite concerning.

"-That's too much, Sana." A puff of air left your mouth, a reassured smile curling in it's stead. At least Sana had wise friends-

"I mean how bad would it look for Iseul's reputation? He can't be dating an assaulter!"

You froze.

Iseul. Iseul. Iseul. Iseul Iseul Iseul Iseul-

That damned name.

A bunch of collective "oohs" and "aahs" splattered. The teenagers nodded in agreement, being particularly vocal.

"Let's say she bullied one of us!"

"Or that she has been to prison!"

"We caught her shoplifting?"

"Boring!"

A fry was thrown at whoever said the last word. Useless bickering followed by rolls of their eyes, the girls easily overcame the little hindrance and got back to brainstorming.

You sucked in a breath, spoon limply hanging off your fingers.

They were definitely talking about you.

Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. It's not a big deal. This is normal-

"We should break into her house or something. The address is leaked anyway."

The table screeched, you stood up.

Legs having a brain of their own, you paced out of the restaurant, the memories of the girls fibbing and bickering and planning like no tomorrow kept echoing through your mind. Like a broken record. Since when had your life turned to such shambles?

God. Why were things like this for you?

Releasing a shaky breath, you gulped, burying the insecurity deep inside of you. Whipping the lopsided glasses away, you stop caring for a moment.

You don't care. For sure. But then your hands are moving and they're looking through your pockets, seeking for something and my goodness, since when did your phone start feeling so heavy?

Unfamiliar and hesitant, you went through your contact list, heart beating so fast that you felt like it'll rip right out of your chest. Your lips quivered, flushed skin feeling hotter and hotter by the second. A fever? Or was this anger?

You shivered, ignoring the tears and the salt and the aching, aching feel of your soul. You fiddled for a moment – just a moment – but then you're harshly pressing the call button and wiping snot off your nose before placing the phone to your ear and waiting like a madwoman. Impatient and uncalm and-

"My love! You called!"

Him.

Him. Him. Him. Him.

How you hate him.

"I'll-I'll do it,-" You spluttered, very much on the verge of choking on your own spit and mumbling strings of curses at him and them and every single person who's so, SO mean to you- "I-i'll make it official. We.. we will! Just..- just please.."

You've perished. You've perished until this second, this moment and you'll continue perishing but-

"J-just.. make them stop."

Don't you deserve a break too? With everything he puts you through?

A tsk from his side was heard. Iseul sounded amused, almost cross with you. Almost pouty. Almost smiling.

"Really now? This easy? Things were only just getting fun."

You wanted to gut YANDERE!celebrity. Brutally.

#yandere x darling #yandere x female reader #yandere!male #yandere #yandere x f!reader #yandere!celebrity #yandere!fans #yandere x reader

432 notes · View notes

dilfth1rster · 7 months ago

Text

Smut Requests - @dilfth1rster

REQUEST HERE <----- click

+18!!!!!!!!!

Hi I'm Miko! Here you can ask filthy questions/send ideas/ask me thoughts on anyone anything smut related :)

Who I write for/am interested in(roles included):

Chris Evans

Pedro Pascal

Andrew Lincoln

Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Henry Cavill

Jensen Ackles

Charlie Cox

Jon Bernthal

Daniel Craig

Jason Momoa

Oscar Isaac

Ryan Reynolds

David Harbour

Theo James

Jake Gyllenhaal

Ryan Gosling

AND MORE!!!!!!

+ you can request people not listed here as long as they're my type(muscled middle aged man(mostly) or a nice dad bod(bears)) I can figure something out or you can always ask in the request field (click) as well :)

What I like (fetishes/kinks) and Do's and Don'ts

Daddy Kink/Breeding/Roleplay/Age-Gap/Non-Con/Dub-Con/Bondage/Hands/Body Hair/Facial Hair/Size Difference/Dirty Talk/Mandhandling/!Dark/Piss/Watersports/Feet/Finger-fucking/ and sucking/Body/Piercing/Worship/Degradation/Humiliation/Stepcest/Incest/Deepthroat/ and more! (ask)

I don't do

Gore/Weird body mods/Animal related stuff(get help)/Scat/Pedophilia/ hmmmm I think that's it

I hope to please you and let's have some fun together!!! :)

182 notes · View notes

monstersholygrail · 2 months ago

Note

So, today was my birthday, and I can't help but feel monsters REALLY know how to celebrate birthdays. Especially a human's!

Oh my gosh, happy (belated?) birthday!!!

I do think I would have to disagree with you though. I feel like birthdays would be another one of those cultural differences between humans and monsters that would be a funny incident when revealed. But a Monster would definitely try their hardest to give you the best birthday possible when they find out!

Imagine your Monster bf has been going over and planning your birthday in secret for months. He has everything planned out and he really wanted to go the full nine yards given that it’s your first birthday together as a couple.

But you just so happen to stumble upon him at the table, not knowing what he’s up to. And your eyes widen as you see what he has written down.

“Pin the eel in the eagles mouth. What do you need all that for?” You ask, brows furrowing in concern for the state of your bf’s mind.

Your bf whips around and scrambles to cover up all the paper and research he has scattered across the table. His monstrous form makes that quite an easy task. But he still looks adorably flustered anyway.

“Hey, you weren’t supposed to see any of that!”

You only grow more confused. With the look on your face your words finally start to sink in. Which has your bf becoming just as confused as you are.

“But, uh, what’s wrong? Are eels and eagles not common in your human cele— lives? Your human lives,” your bf asks, trying to appear as calm and casual as possible.

And he fails at it spectacularly. You wince and shake your head at him, wondering what’s going on with him.

“No, love, that sounds terrifying.”

Your bf’s face drops and luckily you at least manage to catch that very obvious signal he accidentally sends you. A frown pulls at your lips until realization dawns on you and you immediately begin cooing at him.

“Aw, baby, are you planning me a birthday party?”

He melts into you, his arms wrapping around you and clinging onto you. Turning into a huge baby at the first sight of your affection. You try to swallow down your laughter as he pouts and nuzzles in your neck.

“Well I’m apparently planning the worst human birthday party ever.” You try and comfort him as best you can.

“Don’t say that. Whatever you planned is going to be amazing because it’s coming from you,” you assure him gently.

But as you leave to head off back to what you were doing, your bf only grows determined to give you the best birthday party in the history of birthday parties.

For the next few weeks he does a ton of research. Looking up the best birthday traditions that humans have had, looking across all generations and cultures. And when he thinks about it, he decides to add in some monster traditions as well. Because you love him with all your heart for exactly who he is so he wants to share this aspect of his life with you too. But he makes sure to only include the humanly-safe ones.

He puts his whole heart and soul into planning it and when your birthday finally comes around, it all turns out even better than expected. You’ve never felt so loved and cherished before and you love getting to experience so many wonderful traditions with the monster who means the most to you.

All in all it would be a lovely day where he makes sure to shower you in endless love.

137 notes · View notes

tonyspank · 1 year ago

Text

YOU RIGHT

Warnings: none i think Summary: You meet Olivia Rodrigo at a party. A/N: part 2?

Olivia Rodrigo x Reader

Fame. It was a blessing and a curse, bringing both adoration and scrutiny. The allure of the spotlight drew people in, but the constant invasion of privacy weighed heavily on those who experienced it.

You never wanted to be famous, with everyone watching your every move and judging your every decision. The pressure to maintain a perfect image becomes suffocating, leaving no room for mistakes or personal growth. It seemed like too much.

Your friends, on the other hand, envied the idea of fame. They saw it as a gateway to success, wealth, and recognition, and hell, it was.

The difference between Jack's and your bank accounts was big.

Jack Harlow, a rising rap artist, seemed to have it all. Jack Harlow, the same guy you used to hang out with and freestyle with in your basement, was now selling out arenas and topping the charts.

Jack Harlow, the same guy who would visit New York just to hang out with you, his best friend.

You'd know Jack since he was just starting out in the music industry. You had witnessed his journey from recording songs in his bedroom to signing a major record deal.

You were proud of him, he was truly like a brother to you, and seeing his success brought you immense joy. Despite his fame, Jack remained humble and always made time for the people who had supported him from the beginning.

Which is why he decided to drag you to a party in downtown Brooklyn, a place he hoped you would enjoy. The party was filled with talented musicians and industry professionals, nearly everyone there had some connection to the music industry.

You follow Jack as he maneuvers through the crowd, making his way to the DJ booth. You watch him dap up the DJ before he introduces you to him. "This is Zack Bia, his shit is fire. I swear to you." Jack says, leaning closer to you so you can hear him over the music.

Zack daps you up, giving you a warm smile before turning back to his DJ set. Zack leans into Jack's ear, whispering something that makes Jack quickly nod his head, you can slightly mouth the words "Oh yeah."

Zack presses a button on his DJ controller, and the music transitions seamlessly into Jack's song, Dua Lipa. He then hands him a mic, and Jack grabs it eagerly, ready to perform.

As the beat drops, Jack's voice fills the room, captivating everyone with his smooth delivery and undeniable stage presence. The crowd goes wild, their energy fueling Jack's performance as he effortlessly commands the small stage.

You find yourself nodding your head to the beat, unable to resist the infectious rhythm. The music pulsates through your body, making it impossible to stand still. Jack puts an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as you take a sip from your glass.

"Do the next part," Jack whispers in your ear, moving the microphone away from his lips. You laugh a bit, shaking your head. "Nah, man." Jack smiles, "C'mon."

He doesn't give you time to process your response before he moves the microphone to your mouth and starts singing the next verse. Caught off guard, you stumble over the lyrics for a moment before finding your voice and joining in.

Jack starts jumping up and down, his energy contagious as he encourages the crowd to sing along. "So, what's up?" Jack shouts into the microphone, moving it away from you.

You leave the stage, needing a drink and fresh air after being put on the spot like that. When you arrive at the bar, you see a brunette girl sitting by herself, her head down, as she types away on her phone.

You twist your lips, would she mind if you took a seat next to her?

The bartender looks up from cleaning a glass and nods at you, indicating that you can take a seat. When you settle down, you catch a glimpse of the girl's screen, noticing that she's scrolling through social media.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asks, breaking your focus. You quickly glance at the menu and order a shot of tequila.

You can feel it. Her eyes stare at your side profile, but you pretend not to notice and play with the rings on your fingers. What would you say to her if you mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation?

Moments later, the bartender returns with your shot of tequila, accidentally knocking over the girl's drink and proceeding to drop your shot on the table. "Shit! I am so sorry."

You chuckle and reassure the bartender that it's alright, searching for a napkin. "Do you have a napkin?" You ask the bartender, glancing at the wet stain on your jeans.

The bartender searches underneath the counter, unable to find a napkin. "I'm really sorry, but I don't have any napkins at the moment. There might be some in the bathroom upstairs."

You glance at the brunette, who is now wiping her drink off her dress with her hands. "I could also grab you a napkin too, if you'd like."

For the first time, she looks at you, and your stomach does backflips.

"I could come with." She smiles, her brown doe eyes staring into yours. Her smile is warm and inviting, making your heart race even faster. "That would be great," you say, trying to hide your excitement.

You both make your way up the stairs, squeezing past other people who are heading downstairs. As you reach the top, you notice a sign pointing towards the bathroom. The brunette leads the way, gracefully navigating through the crowd.

Huh. This place used to be a studio, you think to yourself, admiring the high ceilings and large windows. You walk into the bathroom with her, turning on the light to reveal a clean and modern design.

The marble countertops and sleek fixtures give the space an elegant touch. You can't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that you won't have to endure a grimy restroom experience tonight.

The brown-eyed girl lets out a huff, searching the bottom compartment for napkins. "Well, I didn't find any napkins, but..." she says, pulling out a blowdryer. "We can use this."

You laugh, impressed by her resourcefulness. "That's definitely a creative solution," you say, admiring her ability to think outside the box. "Who needs napkins when we have a blowdryer?" you joke, helping her plug in the blowdryer.

You sit on the countertop, waiting for the blow dryer to warm up. "I'm Y/N, by the way." The brown-eyed girl smiles and extends her free hand. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Olivia," she introduces herself, grateful for the unexpected company in this situation.

You shake hands, and you can't help but feel that this encounter might turn into an interesting and memorable experience.

Olivia raises the blowdryer on the wet spot on your jeans, causing you to jump a bit in surprise. "Sorry about that," she apologizes, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"You're good, it's just a bit hot."

You smile as you watch her swing the blow dryer back and forth, blowing warm air onto your damp jeans. Olivia looks back at you with a small smile on her lips.

"Did you get dragged here too? Or did you come willingly?" You ask, trying to make conversation.

"A bit of both, you?"

You chuckle softly, your eyes glancing around the room. "Well, I guess you could say I was persuaded to come," you admit with a playful tone. "But I'm actually glad I did. It's been a while since I've hung around Jack...I missed him."

Olivia nods understandingly, her smile widening. "Jack, like Jack Harlow?" You nod in response, confirming her guess. "Yeah, that's the one. We used to be attached at the hip back in high school, but life got busy and we drifted apart. It's nice to reconnect and catch up."

"Do you make music too?" Olivia asks, curious. You shake your head, chuckling softly. "No, not like Jack. I'm more of a listener than a creator when it comes to music. But I've always admired his talent and passion for it."

"You make music, though, right?" You ask and Olivia nods, smiling. "Yes, I do. It's been a big part of my life for as long as I can remember. I like being able to express myself through music and connect with others who kind of relate. It's a form of therapy for me, a way to escape and let my emotions flow freely."

You hum, "I completely understand what you mean. Music has a way of speaking rather than using words." Olivia's smile widens, and she nods in agreement. "Exactly! I honestly can't imagine my life without music."

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you. Another one of Jack's songs begins to play, so loudly that you can faintly hear it all the way up here.

"Want me to dry your dress?" You break the silence, softly taking the blow dryer from her hands. "Oh! Uh, sure, thank you." You smile, hopping off the counter. "You wanna sit? I can help you up."

"Thank you, yeah..." You place the blowdryer down, gently placing your hands on her waist, before lifting her onto the counter. She settles down, her eyes never leaving yours.

"I've always wanted to play an instrument." You confess, doing the same motions with the blowdryer on her dress. "Really? Which one?" she asks, biting down on her lips, her eyes still on you.

You pause for a moment, contemplating your answer. "I think I've always been drawn to the guitar," you finally reply, meeting her eyes.

"Acoustic or electric?" she asks, a small smile forming on her lips. "Acoustic for sure. But I can't sing for shit, so no one-man band for me," you chuckle, causing her smile to widen.

"Well, who needs vocals when you can make the guitar sing?" she teases playfully, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?" Olivia inquires, her curiosity evident in her tone. "I'm a real estate agent, believe it or not."

"It's not as glamorous as being a musician, but it pays the bills," you say with a shrug. Olivia nods understandingly, her smile still present. "Do you wear a suit to work?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes," you reply with a smirk. "But most days, I prefer a more casual and comfortable look. I can't distract my clients with how good I look in a suit, you know?"

Olivia laughs and leans in, placing a hand on your forearm. "So, what's the most interesting property you've ever sold?" she asks.

"Well," you begin, "I once sold a mansion to Central Cee, you know, the UK rapper? He had some specific requests for the interior design, including a home studio and a custom-built gaming room. It was definitely a unique and exciting project to work on," you explain, reminiscing about the experience.

Olivia's eyes widen with intrigue as she listens attentively. "Is he the most famous client you've ever had?"

"Actually, no. I didn't directly sell a house to Drake, but I did have the opportunity to assist in finding him a property. And this was a while ago, maybe when he dropped that one Keke song."

Olivia's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Wow, why is that actually kind of cool?' You chuckle, turning off the blowdryer and setting it down on the counter. "Well, it was definitely a unique experience. It's not every day you get to work with someone as well-known as Drake."

Olivia nods. "I can only imagine what it must have been like. Did you get to meet him in person?"

You smile and reply, "Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to meet him face-to-face. However, I did communicate with his team throughout the process and ensure that his preferences and requirements were met."

You let out a sigh, saying, "If you ever need to find property in the future, let me know." Olivia smiles, nodding her head. "Of course, I wouldn't want anyone else. I don't think all real estate agents help their future clients dry off their dresses when the bartender spills a drink on them." She chuckles, patting her dress to see if it was dry.

"I guess that's just one of the many perks of having a dedicated real estate agent like me," you reply with a wink. Olivia opens her mouth to speak, but knocking on the door interrupts her.

"You guys done in there? We've been waiting for ages!" a voice calls from outside. Olivia and you exchange amused glances before you reply, "Just a moment! We'll be right out."

"Here, I'll help you down." You stand in between Olivia's legs, placing your hands on her waist to support her as she steps down from the countertop.

Olivia's face flushes slightly as she looks up at you, grateful for your assistance. "Thank you," she says softly, moving a hair strand out of her face.

You smile at Olivia and give her a reassuring nod. "No problem at all," you respond, feeling a warm connection between the two of you. You can't help but notice how her hand lingers on your arm for a brief moment before she lets go.

You begin walking towards the door, opening it for Olivia to exit first. A messy-haired boy quickly rushes past the two of you, "Sorry, I have to shit!" he exclaims, nearly knocking Olivia over.

She stumbles slightly but regains her balance with your support. You exchange a knowing glance with Olivia, bursting into laughter at the unexpected interruption.

As the laughter subsides, Olivia thanks you for catching her and playfully nudges your arm. "It was nice meeting you, Olivia." You say, returning the playful nudge.

You give her one last glance before walking towards the flight of stairs. "Wait!" Olivia calls out, causing you to turn around. "Can I have your number? I'd love to keep in touch," Olivia asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice. You smile and reach for your phone, exchanging numbers with her.

Olivia pulls you into a hug, surprising you. You hesitate before returning the hug, wrapping your arm tightly around her waist. You pull away, your hands slightly lingering on her waist. "Don't be a stranger," you say, giving her a warm smile. Olivia returns the smile, nodding.

With a final wave, you turn and continue down the stairs, already looking forward to the next time you'll see each other.

466 notes · View notes

graphedpaper · 4 months ago

Text

Renter Problems 2

yandere!celebrity x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're trying to find a place near your university to stay, and you've managed to find a mansion owned by a celebrity to live in. His name is Jacob, and you've known him since middle school, living in the same city as him. He's blown up as the new, hot celebrity thanks to the movie he's starred in, though, while you're just struggling to pass by. But he's been acting strange, and you're determined to .move out Details: Physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, gender neutral reader, kidnapping

Your head pounds with throbbing pressure from sudden exposure to the singular light of a fluorescent fixture overhead, unsure what happened that lead you to here.

Here, a foggy room of hard gray walls and cold gray floors, it's simplicity unnerves you, a human instinct, maybe.

Your eyes squint from the brightness and you're unable to open them.

Your mouth feels dry, your throat needs water now. You feel sick and nauseous, like almost a fever. Your right arm is sore and bruised, like you had a very bad work out.

It must be earlier in the morning, or maybe it's the afternoon...

You feel a cool, cold, but tight sensation on your wrists and realize your arms are hung up and stretched out individually to thick pipes with handcuffs and chains.

Your screams start to form, an instinctual, guttural, screech of terror that comes rushing out of your mouth with no hesitation.

"Help!" You scream, but your dry throat and dizziness restricts you from yelling loud enough.

Your heavy, tired head droops over and creates a resemblance to a crucification, only this time your raw knees press on the concrete that pushes against your slumped figure.

If not for the handcuffs holding you up, you would fall face flat and crack your forehead.

All you can do is gasp for air into your dry throat, the air stinging your channel that begged for hydration, all sense of a functioning brain and body is gone. Your arms feel numb, all blood rushing to your core. You start to yank your wrists away from the pipe in vain. The heavy metal around your wrists press and brings you another source of pain, the marks all red.

You force your neck up to look at this strange room again. Last thing you can make out before passing out was telling Jacob you were leaving.

What had happened exactly? You forced yourself to dig through your shattered memories.

He had slapped and tossed you across the living room, then he-

Your eyes droop closed. Even with the fear pounding your heart, something is still slowing your thinking. It softens your movements like walking in deep water, fluid, yet thick and weighted.

"Oh. You're up. Couldn't tell from all the screaming." A sarcastic sound hits your ears.

A clear voice calls down to you from the stairs leading up to a now open door that you had not been able to see before.

He looks so satisfied, up on the staircase, hands stuffed in his sweatpants and looking down at you. While you were kneeled on raw ground, face red and puffy from yesterday's event, his face was neat, hair tousled gently, and smelled of aired cotton sheets, he was superior.

"What did you do- What did you do Jacob? What did you do to me?" You rasp out, no energy in your body. "Don't say that precious, I did nothing. You did this." He replies approaching you.

Your eyes widen in panic and you pull on your restraints once again. The metal shakes and rattles, making unpleasant sounds that echo throughout the deep basement. "Don't come near me! I swear, don't take another step!" You don't order, you don't ask, but beg. Beg him to stop.

You cry out screaming when he doesn't stop and calmly descends the stairs, hands still in pockets. "God, shut up! Shut your fucking mouth y/n." He snaps.

He crouches down to my level and he stares at me, like he's studying an animal he hunted down.

"If you want to get out of..."

He pauses.

"...Out of those then keep still and behave."

He hesitates to say handcuffs, like he's avoiding shattering his little dream world where we're apparently a couple. Because even he knows couples don't do this.

"Let me go please. Let me go!" You beg him, using your strength to rattle the chains connecting to your bondage.

Jacob scoffs at your behaviour. You're so pathetic, begging him to let you go. Let you go where? You'd be begging on the streets then. Better him than random strangers, right?

"Y/n stop it." He grabs your chin and pulls it upwards with his right hand. "You're acting like a fucking bitch right now." His eyes stare right into yours, it's dark. The back of your neck feels strained from the awkward angle.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" You jump to apologize. It's obvious this is someone unlike anyone you'd meet around town. Inhuman.

A sharp kick to your side pushes you back. It leaves you unable to think, or speak. The impact was unexpected.

He laughs at your shock. "Are you ready now?" Jacob's lips pout slightly, speaking in a mocking tone.

You can only stare at a corner of this room, mouth gaping like a suffocating fish. Still, you manage to nod slightly.

What bad luck.

What horrible luck that your friend recommended you the house of a psycho.

In this moment, you curse your parents and your friends slightly.

Jacob kneels down fully to the ground and slips out a key from his back pocket of his jeans. He swiftly unlocks the segments that connect the individual handcuffs to the chains.

What a joke, of course he wouldn't take the handcuffs off like you thought, he's only separating you from the pillars-

He takes out a second key and takes his time to release your sore wrists from the 2 metal bracelets.

You remain as confused and fearful as ever. What did he have planned now?

"Jacob, why did you do this, why did you put me in these handcuffs?" You ask him, in a raspy voice. It's hoarse from the screaming.

You observe his facial expressions carefully, like a small rabbit may to a lion. He's unpredictable.

He ignores your questions and continues to work at the handcuffs.

"You know y/n, I think you don't remember how terrible of a person you were to me all throughout our teenage years. How much of a bully you were. And that hurts me."

No. No, you were never once a bully to him. But he was to you, spreading rumours, getting his friends to gang up on you. What was he on about? He was insane. You wanted to ask him what he meant, you deeply wanted to argue against this statement. But that wouldn't save you, would it?

"I'm so sorry Jacob, I'm sorry for hurting you like that in the past, but like you said, we can all change." You bite your tongue and hope for the best.

Silence fills the room up to the ceiling, and he pauses working on the last handcuff around your wrist.

"You refused to go out with me, y/n." He stared at you.

What could you say except sorry to this psycho?

"I'm so sorry Jacob." You reply.

"You thought I was a stupid idiot, huh! You thought you could just walk all over me and I would accept it?" He yells.

"Jacob, please, I'm not sure what I did to you, I'm sorry!" You cry out, terrified. Your body starts to shake reactively towards his agression.

His move star face contorts into one of an ugly monster.

"You... you don't even know? You don't even care?" He stands up with a look of angry disbelief.

"No, no, Jacob, please, please, let me out of this place and we can talk it over, okay?" You beg.

He checks his watch then glares at you.

"You're lucky I need to go and do an interview to promote the new movie."

He kneels back down, and before he unlocks the final handcuff, he puts the other set between your two wrists like how it normally would have been used, then takes off the first handcuff that was connected to the chains on the pillar and one of your hands.

He grabs onto your handcuff and drags you up behind him to the first floor. The stairs are long and high, like the architect knew a rich person would need to have somewhere to take out their sick desires.

When he opens the locked door and tosses you to the floor of the other room, you realize its the big, airy living room from last night's dinner. You look around and see no traces of yesterday's fight. Did he get a cleaner in?

Jacob locks the door behind him, and then turns around to look at you.

His facial expression changes from stressed fury to a calmer, serene face.

"Oh y/n, you're too gorgeous to act this way, why can't you just be my perfect partner, huh? Why did you have to try and leave? Weren't we building a connection? We even had a dinner date." He rambles his thoughts to you, like you're a stuffed rabbit toy.

He grabs your hand and leads you up to his bedroom. You've never been in it.

While he's approaching his bedroom door, you decide to attempt to get out of this horror.

You'll ask him to unlock your cuffs and then you'll call the police...

Jacob pushes you onto his bed.

"Y/n, stay in my room and don't have even think about leaving until I'm back from work. There's alarms."

"Jacob, please can you get me out of these handcuffs? Let me go please, I won't ever tell anyone, I wouldn't dare ruin your career, " You try.

Jacob stops moving at your audacity to beg. You're daring, he'll admit that. Begging for him to let you go? His girlfriend?

"I'm not worried about you ruining my career, you'd just be another crazy bitch out for a young man's growing success."

You're stunned by the bluntness of his words and your face finds its way into a grimace.

"Aww. Poor baby didn't like that, huh?" He asks with a sarcastic tone.

You stare at him not sure what to say.

"I'm going to go now, but you have to be a good girlfriend while I'm away." Jacob tells you.

He forces you to kiss him on the cheek in an awkward position and leaves you on his grand bed with the door locked.

You collapse and begin to sob.

Hi, this short text is part of a larger story you can find on Wattpad, @graphedpaper, if you liked this, you should check it out there.

265 notes · View notes