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addict-rat · 6 months ago

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𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 || dark!director!Daniel Brühl x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 || 'come sit down here beside me, honey, let's have a little heart to heart. now look at me and tell me, darling: how badly do you want this part?'

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 || 3.4k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 || smut (dub and noncon), quid pro quo/casting couch, a slap, period-typical misogyny (40s au), innocence kink, virginity loss, degradation, slight pain kink

Everyone who knows anything about movies knows the name Daniel Brühl.

He was easily and unilaterally labelled as one of the most influential producers and directors of the 1940s. And that's no easy feat for a German-American in times like these, he'd had to prove himself more than most to reach this point— you always admired that about him, along with his obvious talent.

So when you came upon the opportunity to audition for him, by invitation from an associate of his, you were equal parts stunned and honored and, frankly, a little confused.

After all, you were only a newcomer, one of a thousand starry-eyed would-be actresses who moves to Hollywood every year to chase her dream. What would he want with you?

You're not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, though, so you gladly made your call time to audition for the one and only Daniel Brühl, wearing your Sunday best and hoping he would see something in you. This could be your big break; you could be one of those overnight superstars, that thing everybody told you never really happens to the girls who leave their small towns for sunny LA.

But you tried not to get your hopes up too much as you waited to enter his office, nervously playing with the hem of your dress as you sat on the little couch outside his door.

Your heart skipped a beat when the door opened and there he was, waiting to greet you with a gentle smile. It's really him. "Mr. Brühl!" you blurted out as you stood up suddenly.

"Please, Daniel is fine," he dismissed as he guided you back into his office; you were just trying not to ogle the decadent corner office, an art deco exhibition that harkened back to another golden age of cinema. “Would you like a drink?” he asked as he approached his mini-bar, already pouring his own.

“Oh, no thank you,” you denied.

“You’re sure? It’s really excellent, just arrived from Scotland,” he explained, holding up the crystal whiskey bottle for you to see.

“No, I’m sure, but thank you,” you repeated. He grabbed his own drink and took his seat but didn't invite you to sit, so you didn’t. He took a slow sip of the light-brown liquid, and you felt a little scrutinized standing under his gaze as he stared up at you over the rim of the glass.

"I'm such a huge admirer of your work," you admitted suddenly, in part to break the silence, and he smiled in a semi-humble sort of way, shrugging slightly. You figured he must get that a lot.

"You flatter me," he scoffed, and in spite of how much you were probably making a fool of yourself, you doubled down.

"No, really! I mean, Time Enough for Love, I must've seen it a thousand times—" you rushed excitedly.

"I don't want to spend all this time talking about my past work," he interrupted. "We're here to talk about my future work. And if you might have a place in it."

You're too busy being starstruck to even be embarrassed by his correction. "O-okay," you stammer. "Would you like for me to read something?"

"No, I don't like to do auditions that way. I like to just… get to know the actor, see if the feeling is right," he explained with a nod. "And, for the part I'm picturing you for, I need to know that you have the right look."

You nodded quickly.

"This dress you're wearing is very cute—" he began.

"Oh, thank you—" you interjected shyly.

"—but it hides your shape too much. Can you lift the skirt for me a bit?"

You felt your cheeks warm slightly but went along with it, clutching your skirt and carefully curling your fingers to pull up the hem.

"Hm," he nodded, "a little more?"

You shivered slightly as the fabric ran over your thighs, the drafty air of the room tickling your legs, but you obeyed after only a moment of hesitation.

He smiled slightly as he examined you, and you twisted the tip of your foot on his carpet just a bit. "Just a bit more," he encouraged.

"I… don't think I can lift it much more," you giggled nervously.

There was something impossible to describe in his smile… as if there was a hint of irritation within it, maybe disappointment, though not quite surprised. Like he expected your resistance, and almost craved it, even if it bothered him. “Darling, you’re going to have to get rid of that shyness if you want to really make it as an actress,” he advised. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, but the first responsibility of any actor is to take their director’s… well, direction.”

“I just don’t understand what exactly you’re looking for here,” you explained awkwardly.

He stood up and you finally felt comfortable dropping your dress back down to its full length— he reached out and held your arm gently, which was sort of comforting but also made you even more nervous. “Maybe if I tell you more about the part, you’ll understand,” he offered.

“That would be great,” you beamed, breathing a sigh of relief.

“You realise that I can’t just tell you everything about the project; if I blabbed about my new films to anybody who auditioned, then all the surprises would be ruined before it was even in production,” he mitigated.

“Of course!” you nodded. “Just maybe some information about who you want me to play.”

“Right,” he agreed. “This role… it’s demanding, I’ll be honest with you. It requires your total dedication to my vision. The girl I want you to be, she’s very loyal, and always happy to please…”

Your heart sank as his hand trailed lightly over your shoulder, starting to pull down the strap of your dress. Maybe you were an idiot for taking this long to figure it out, but now that you knew what he really wanted from you, it was obvious.

“I’ve wanted you for this role ever since I first saw you,” he explained in a whisper.

"Mr. Brühl, I'm sorry," you shuddered as you brushed his hand away, "but I'm not that kind of girl."

"I must've misunderstood," he frowned, stepping back, "I thought you wanted to be a star."

"I-I do, but—"

"Who do you think you are to say no to me?" he hissed. "You're nobody. And I'm your only chance to change that."

Although his words hurt, they stung in the way only the truth can. “I… I’m not—” you began, but he cut you off with a quick slap, spinning your face to the side as you clutched your cheek instinctively, eyes already watering.

“Now, I’m sorry I had to do that,” he sighed immediately, “but you’re not making sense. Either you want to make it or you don’t.”

“I don’t,” you decided, “not like this.”

But when you tried to pull away, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into him. He ignored your struggle completely as he continued. “I can fucking ruin you, huh?” he growled, tugging you closer for emphasis as you whimpered in pain. “You know that, don’t you? You’ll never work again, not in this town, and you’ll have to go crawling back to Ma and Pa in whatever backwater corner of Kansas you came from. You can do community theater between shifts at the five-and-dime, and pretend that’s what you always wanted, but you’ll always know you had a chance and you threw it away— and for what, your pride? What pride is there in being just another failed actress?”

You bit back tears as he spat his insults at you, trying not to imagine what he described; but you couldn’t help it, he was listing every fear you’d had lingering in the back of your mind since you’d made up your mind to move to California just a few months ago. You couldn’t stand it if you had to go back and admit your dream was just that: a dream.

“I can make your dream come true,” he promised in a whisper, like he had somehow invaded your mind even further, “or I can make it all go away— just like that.”

He snapped his fingers, even such a small sound making you jump just a bit.

“Do you believe me?” he prompted firmly.

Nervously, as your fight faded, you nodded, and felt him smile against your cheek as he leaned into you again.

"I knew you had potential," he mumbled his praise against your skin, kissing down to your neck. "You can be a star, darling, you'll be the next Marilyn. You just need to show me that you have the… dedication required. The passion. You'll show me, won't you?"

Though you had to swallow down the lump in your throat, you nodded again, and his hands gripped your waist tightly.

“Good girl,” he purred. You shivered as he kissed your neck tenderly, almost trying to squirm away but trapped by his embrace. Your eyes fell shut as you tried not to think about what you were doing, and what he was doing to you. But it was hard to ignore when he stood up straight again and held your chin, guiding you to look up at him. “You really are such a pretty little thing,” he cooed. “You’ll look perfect up on the silver screen, Liebling.”

“Y-you really think so?” you whispered, totally helpless to those brown eyes even when they so shamelessly devoured you.

He nodded, leaning in to kiss you, and you didn’t even put on any airs of resistance now, kissing him back as best you knew how— you weren’t exactly experienced, and you hoped that wouldn’t deter him from making good on his end of the deal.

His kiss tasted like whiskey and cigars, yet oddly sweet. In the same way, he kissed you with a gentle but undeniable dominance, passionate in a way that could almost be misconstrued as romantic without knowledge of the context. It felt the way all those kisses in the movies looked— the ones you watched late at night with wide eyes all your life, dreaming of your chance to be in a movie, too. And here was your chance, after all.

You didn’t actually notice that he was guiding you both back until you bumped into the wall, and when he pushed on just the right part of it, the wall opened like a door— which you nearly fell through, though he was there to catch you and keep you upright.

But you still broke the kiss to glance around, seeing a much smaller room decorated in dim light and red curtains and a strange sort of bed in the middle— a chaise lounge, maybe that was the word for it, but it was curved and upholstered in red satin. You didn’t get much of a look, though, before he grabbed your face and made you kiss him again, shutting the hidden door behind you both and pushing you back further into the secret room.

You gasped just a bit against his lips as he started to unbutton the back of your dress, pulling the straps down your shoulders again. This time, you relaxed your arms and let it slip past them to the floor, leaving you in only your undergarments as he ran his hands over your skin.

But he didn’t let you keep those on for long; he all but tore your brassiere off, and roughly pulled your panties and hose down next, suddenly cupping your bare sex in his hand.

“O-oh,” you stammered, struggling not to move your hips away from his touch as he explored you with rough, but pleasurable, fingertips. “Wait, I—”

This time you cut yourself off, as you felt the hard, warm shape of his erection press against your hip.

“M-Mr. Brühl!” you shouted suddenly in shock.

“Oh, you are so cute,” he chuckled, “I told you to call me Daniel, remember?”

His hand stopped rubbing through your folds and moved quickly to hold your wrist instead, guiding you to feel him through his suit trousers. You sighed when you felt it, feeling your face get incredibly hot and your eyes beginning to dart away to the floor in shame. His quiet chuckle didn’t help on that account, either.

“I told you you’ll have to get rid of that shyness,” he reminded you. “C’mon, don’t you know what to do?”

You shook your head. “I mean, not really…”

He lifted your face by your chin again, meeting your gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Haven’t you touched a cock before?”

You cleared your throat. “Um, well, actually…”

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

Shamefully, you nodded; but he looked anything but disappointed. “Oh, Liebling,” he sighed, holding you tighter as he kissed your neck again, lifting you and laying you back on the strange little bed, carefully arranging himself between your legs as he knelt on top of you.

You bit your lip to hide your fear as he reached down with one hand to open his belt and fly, the other arm bent and resting by your head to keep him hovering over you. He pulled away from your neck to look down at you with a tilted grin, licking his lips slightly as he watched your

“I should’ve known,” he spoke quietly. “I just thought an innocent face like yours was too good to be true. Do you have any idea what to do, darling?”

You awkwardly shook your head.

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you,” he promised. “I’m going to show you how, and soon you won’t know how to do anything else.”

Though you weren’t quite sure what that meant, you choked on a gasp as he pulled out his cock and rubbed it right over your entrance, threatening to push into you at any time. “Daniel, I—”

“Say my name again,” he pleaded suddenly.

“Daniel,” you repeated, about to ask him to wait a moment and talk you through it— you weren’t especially religious, but you were at least raised to think this was a very big deal— but before you could say it, he already pushed his hips forward.

You whimpered and bit down on your lip, doing your best to ignore the sting as he filled you, but it was difficult— you clutched at his shirt tightly, hoping he wouldn’t mind if you wrinkled it..

And then he moved again, at which point you realized that first thrust had only been the first half of him; you couldn’t help but whimper as he gave you the rest, panting and shutting your eyes tightly.

“Mein Gott, what a sweet little cunt you have,” he breathed. “Just relax, honey, you’re making it worse for yourself.”

He ran his fingers gently over your legs, over your stomach and breasts, and it did help you to calm down a bit even as there was still a sting between your legs.

Carefully, he began to pull back and slide forward again, both of you groaning (if in slightly different ways) and his face nestling into the crook of your neck.

Your back arched, almost trying to keep him from going too deep into you, but he reached down and held your hips tightly, keeping you from angling away.

One of his hands moved in a bit, and down, until his calloused thumb could rub slow circles over your swollen bud. You hadn’t realized how sensitive you would be there; your breath caught audibly, your head fell back to present your neck to his hungry kiss.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispered, and you nodded. “Then say it.”

“I…” you began weakly trailing off. But him sitting up and holding your jaw tight in his other hand certainly got your attention.

“Open your eyes, and say it,” he demanded, and you looked up at him even though you thought his stare might burn right through you.

“It feels good,” you whispered.

“Again.”

“It feels good,” you repeated, a little louder.

“You like it?”

“Yes,” you answered.

“Louder!"

"Yes!" you sobbed, clutching onto him tightly, too lost in pleasure to stay quiet anymore.

“I wondered how much it would take for the sweet, innocent girl who just wants to be in my movie to turn into a desperate, dirty slut,” he grinned. “It didn’t take very much at all…”

“N-no,” you stammered as his thrusts rocked you slowly, “I-I’m not—”

“Yes you are, darling, you’re my needy little slut,” he assured you. “I can feel it, I can feel your pussy holding onto me so tight— and I can see you trying to hide how much you love it. You’re a good actress, really, but you’re not that good.”

He must’ve noticed the way those words hurt, and he smiled sympathetically.

“I don’t mean it that way. You’ll be a star, darling, I know that much. Especially with me at your side— I can take care of you, and you need that in a business like this… it can be ruthless,” he grinned.

Well, he was right about that, and proving it himself.

“But I’ll protect you,” he continued, voice a bit thinner through his breathlessness, “and I’ll cast you in whatever you want.”

“Really?” you smiled slightly.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be my little star,” he promised, running his thumb over your lips. “Everyone’s gonna know your name, Liebling. But they won’t know you’re my little whore, too.”

Maybe you were naïve— in fact, you definitely were— but you weren’t stupid; you knew what that meant.

This was going to keep happening. He would only keep you on the whitelist so long as you continued to give in to him, let him use your body for his own power fantasy.

Maybe one quid pro quo was a compromise you’d been able to stomach at first, but a lifetime of being this man’s pet in exchange for whatever career he was willing to give you? Now you weren’t so sure.

But you weren’t so sure you had much of a choice, either.

Tears welled in your eyes and you hoped he wouldn’t notice; you hoped he would be done with you soon, but once he was done with you for today, it was only a matter of time before it happened again, right?

He started to move a bit faster, pushing so deep into you that you thought you might choke, and as he laid his weight atop yours, you looked up over his shoulder at the ceiling. His hand traced over your leg and guided it to wrap around his waist, until your whole body held onto his even though you hoped your mind could drift away somewhere else… even if it could still hear your own moaning, which you didn’t know how to hold back anymore.

As you examined the room— rather decadent and sensuous, everything some deep shade of red and seemingly pretty expensive— your eyes transfixed on a strange sort of shape on the wall. Actually, it was a shape in the wall… just past the shadows, so well hidden you had to squint to see it.

But you saw it. And your gut sank to the floor when you processed what you were looking at.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, suddenly trying to push him away.

“What’s wrong, Liebling?” he cooed. “Did you catch a glimpse of my little camera?”

It wasn’t little at all, it was rather massive, hence the massive set-up in the wall that had to be concealed. It was a true cinema-grade camera, the kind only he could have access to for personal use. Personal use; that puts it pretty fucking lightly.

You understood all at once what you'd become a part of; who knows how many girls he'd brought back here, how many reels he had of scenes just like this?

"Get off of me!" you sobbed, shoving uselessly against his shoulders. He growled as he covered your mouth with a thick, ring-adorned hand.

Apparently, now that the jig was up, he didn't feel the need to be gentle anymore; he fucked you hard and fast suddenly, so much so that your eyes shot open and you cried out behind his hand.

His other hand managed to pin yours down as they tried to fight him off, and instantly you were entirely at his mercy once again.

As a tear trailed down your cheek silently, that enchanting, terrifying voice of his purred right by your ear: "I promised to put you in a movie, didn't I?"

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