FanfictionWriter101

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          The lives of Hollywood celebs are certainly prolific. They have fancy houses, drive fancy cars and eat fancy food. But when you push past the shining exterior, the perfect and prim façade that a lot of these celebs portray crumbles away. You’ve heard the stories of secret sex parties, celeb only orgies and mysterious secluded beaches where only the dirtiest of celebs linger. Which, incidentally, is all of them. But the complete dichotomy of these two worlds cannot be better displayed than with the high-brow and stiff upper lip of Anne Hathaway and one of her infamous friday nights.             They start rather innocently, with Anne taking dinner at one of the more expensive establishments, actively ignoring the subtle snaps taken from indiscreet paparazzi, hoping to angle their cameras just enough to creep beneath her dress. Whilst Anne would love to indulge them, she rarely bothers wit...

The Hollywood contract is a fickle thing. One day it may grant riches and fame, the other it may condemn you to an appalling excuse of a blockbuster film. And whilst all are almost copy and pasted, with the numbers shifted to reflect the talent in question, some exploit the continuous normalcy the contracts have come to embody. As a celebrity, you can’t offer more than a passing glimpse at a contract and must trust in the good of humanity to keep the contract clean and pure. But as we all know; the Hollywood scene is far from clean and pure. And more and more, executives exploit the menial nature of signing contracts to trick big names into compromising positions. After all, no one can file a suit if a piece of paper says you consent. A lesson Salma Hayek learnt in an all too bitter and brutal way.             Slipped into her contract for ‘The Hitman’s Bodyguard’, there was nefarious fine-print: Salma Hayek offers to attend...

DAY 01: Avril awoke with her hands cuffed behind her back, the metal rings biting and digging into her wrists. A tight swatch of cloth was tied around her mouth, gagging her and restricting her calls of dismay to mere meek whimpers. Wriggling back and forth, she only served to tighten the cuffs before she managed to roll to the edge of the bed, sitting with her legs dangling over the edge. She was in some grimy dungeon with paint peeling from the walls and rusted pipes rushing across the ceiling. Not to mention there were only two pieces of furniture: a wooden chair and the uncomfortably stiff bed on which she was sitting             There was a sound at the door, the rattling of heavy chains echoing through the small basement room and rousing Avril to her feet. She had to escape but was a little stunned and taken aback by her surroundings. As the door swung open, she clumsily attempted to run past the intruder, only to hav...

            It had been three months since the downfall of Voldemort and following the battle of Hogwarts and the Death Eaters defeat, Bellatrix Lestrange was one of the few Death Eaters not lucky enough to escape and disappear underground. However, whereas most of the captured Death Eaters were taken by the Ministry of Magic -now under the control of Kingsley Shacklebolt-, Bellatrix had the unfortunate luck of being found and captured by someone with a somewhat personal vendetta against the black-haired witch. So, for three months Bellatrix Lestrange was kept in a small dungeon below a semi-detached house in a comely muggle street; all under the watchful and firm hand of one Hermione Granger.             Waking from her slumber, Bellatrix found herself in one of Hermione’s favourite positions, her legs spread and her pussy and ass on full display, and all at the perfec...