#director!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alonetimelover · 1 year

Text

Action! - tolerate it - 2020

Pairings: Harry Styles x Director!Reader

Summary: YN sees how much Harry is distancing himself from her and their relationship. She decides to confront him, not realising the cascade of events about to happen and the feelings she had buried within herself.

Warnings: angst! swearing, mention of unfaithfulness

Word count: ~3,0k

A/N: Another one based on a song, like the title says: tolerate it by Taylor Swift. Hope you enjoy it! x

requested by @abbeyroad069 I hope it meets your expectations 💗

part 2 - champagne problems

series masterlist let's talk about action!universe

20th of June was, like any day in California, warm and sultry.

Sun high above illuminating his face through the dimmed windows. Book that she recommended to him in his hands, flipping pages from time to time, annotating it. Scribbling in his notebook after having found a noteworthy quote. His hair falling into place like dominoes, the pink hair-slide having been forgotten from the gym the other day. Rolled up sleeves, showing his multiple tattoos and shorts, short enough to give her a peak of his Brazil one.

She was sitting opposite him watching. Observing his head hanging low, reading the book she loved so much. His chest was rhythmically lifting with each of the deep and calm breath. His left hand, folding down the pages he’d already read. The right one fiddling with the pencil.

She noticed everything he did and didn’t do.

She sat and watched him.

“I can feel your eyes on me, baby,” Harry spoke without sparing her a glance. “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring.” Scrutinising.

Harry closed the book and turned to her, “are you?”

“Yeah.”

“Not now, at least. Also that plant hasn’t changed since the day we bought it,” he noted, noticing her eyes watching the flower.

He was wrong. Not for the first and probably last time. That plant was the fourth she brought to their shared house. The first one, that Harry was alluding to, was overwatered, because before it, YN hadn’t known much about plants and had thought they needed water like people, every day. But it was succulent. YN replaced it within two weeks.

The second plant, a completely different one - a fuchsia, didn’t last longer. This one being unfortunately knocked over by a dog of YN’s friend, and chewed on, leaving just two flowers. Nothing she could’ve done with them, she searched it up.

The third one lasted the longest - almost three months. She only needed to replace it, having learned she was allergic to ficus. After weeks of a runny nose, sneezing whenever in a living room and lacrimation, she went to a doctor, did allergic tests and wallowed over her proud achievement that a living plant was. However, she gave it to her best friend, knowing it would be in good hands.

Harry didn’t notice any change. It couldn’t have been easy for him though. Today was the first day in five months that he decided to actually spend time with YN. During those months he was meeting up with his new costars (of a movie YN was a director of), his management (discussing newest album), his bandmates (talking over new tour dates). All of that after having begged YN for moving in with him in LA, due to worldwide quarantine.

“You know it’s an orchid?” She asked after some time.

“Sure.”

“And the one we bought together was a crassula.”

“You threw away our Farquad?” He asked, exaggerating the hurt.

“Three months - no, wait - almost four months ago. I overwatered it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not even the funniest part,” YN started to sound sarcastic. “I then bought a totally different plant that Doger knocked over and ate. Then another one that I - how it turned out - am allergic to. This one is the fourth plant here. I bought it two weeks ago. Isn’t it hilarious?”

“You’re being sarcastic. And I don’t even know what for, YN.” Harry reached for his book, attempting to restart the chapter.

YN was very much surprised by how quickly and drastically the person she loved could change. One talkative person who wanted to discuss the slightest and smallest problem with his partner was not here. One caring person, who was hurt whenever his loved one was, felt absent. One gentle man, who looked after his partner trying to be the best for her lost the title.

“You understand it’s not about plants?”

“It sounds like it is,” he said dismissively, staring at the book.

“But it isn’t. It’s about you, about us, Harry.” She emphasised the pronoun.

“YN,” he sighed, closing the book once again. “You’re starting this pointless argument for the third time this month.”

Fifth, she thought. It was the fifth time she tried to talk it over with Harry. Perhaps, she felt, she was misreading everything. Perhaps, the neglect she felt wasn't real. She must have been exaggerating the situation. Nothing changed. He loved her as much as yesterday or two years ago. It was pointless after all.

She was waiting by the door just like she was just a kid. Waiting, having laid the table with a ‘fancy shit’ as Harry called the tableware that he’d got from his mother. It was their anniversary. YN wanted to celebrate it simply, a cosy dinner with his favourite dish, Harry’s best wine and Phil Collins playing in the background. Nothing over the top. Just them, solemnising their third year together.

He was late. Two and half hours late.

Was she mad? She should have been, but was hopeful. Always putting so much faith in him.

“What are you doing still up, love?” He asked tiptoeing into the house, five hours later.

“Happy anniversary!”

She smiled from one ear to the other, holding up the cake she had baked by herself that morning. Even though, deep down she was sad and disappointed, celebrating this milestone was more important. They’d forget about this tardiness tomorrow, only remembering what was worth it.

“Oh! Indeed, happy anniversary, babe.” His eyes not knowing where to look. He forgot.

She hated being called babe.

“Did you have dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m full.” He patted his stomach, simultaneously taking off his black trainers. “We went to this new sushi restaurant I’d talked to you about. It was amazing! The chef was so nice, giving me a tip on how to chop the spring onions correctly.” Oh, how eager he was about it.

“Exciting. So you won’t be eating any tacos I made?” She asked hopefully.

“‘M sorry, YN. I’m so tired, I'm just gonna shower and head to bed. Tomorrow’s morning I’m meeting up with Olivia to talk over the few scenes we’ve got together,” Harry said, yawning and already going up the stairs.

Harry’s and Olivia’s characters didn’t have any scenes where they would talk with each other.

“It’s not an argument. I want to kindly and calmly talk with you. When was the last time we actually discussed our relationship?”

“Is there anything to discuss? We’re fine.”

“Harry,” YN sat up straight, giving Harry a pointer that he’d better listen. “You don’t only discuss your relationship when something’s wrong. And,” she paused, pondering about the next question, “you really think we’re fine?”

“Yes!” He lifted up his voice, becoming edgy. “Day after day you’re insinuating something. Just say it fucking straight, whatever that is on your heart, lay it on me.”

If she did as he had said, would it mean the end? The confrontation was the last thing she wanted. Especially when Harry already was wired. But at the same time, when would be a better moment?

“I don’t think we’re fine. We’re growing apart,” she admitted.

“It’s your opinion.”

“Yes, it is! Thank you for noticing, Harry,” YN expressed sarcastically. “Don’t you see how much you’ve distanced yourself from this -” She pointed between them. “This relationship?”

“Distanced? I’m working, YN. I’m trying to write an album. I’m working on three films. I’m managing a relationship with you.”

“Managing?” Her voice smaller, the weight of his words landing on her.

“Of course, it’s the only fucking thing you’ve heard. Of course.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

Harry stood up from the armchair, throwing his book on an oaken coffee table. His hands brushing over his hair and then beard, he’d grown over the quarantine.

“It’s not. You’re working, Harry. I understand that. I see you writing music and preparing for your roles. I’m here. Just like you wanted me to be. How you begged me to be.” She tried staying as calm as possible. “I am here and you’re not.”

“What do you want me to do, YN? Hmm? I can’t be at the two places at the same time. I can’t give you as much attention as you crave. I can’t.” He was throwing his hands up and down, talking with them as well.

“Is it craving attention by just wishing your partner was there for you?”

“You think I’m not?”

“Stop asking stupid questions, Harry!” She broke her calmness, all her feelings finally having space to leave her body. “You’re not here. Not at home, not in this relationship.”

“I just said, I can’t give you all the attention you crave, “ he repeated.

“Love?”

“What?”

“What about love? Can you give it to me?”

“Oh, now you’re sounding ridiculous. I’m done with this conversation, YN.”

He moved swiftly over the table and rushed towards the stairs.

“I love you, Harry. Can you say it?”

He can’t, she said in her mind, observing how his shoulders tensed, halting his movements. Then, her eyes started getting teary. But she wasn’t going to cry in front of him. No. She’d wait and just like over the last two weeks, she’d wait for him to go to sleep, then she’d sit down in the downstairs bathroom and sob. Sob for minutes or hours. Shaking with all the emotions trapped inside, hurting every inch of her body.

She knew her love should have been celebrated.

“If it’s all in my head just tell me now,” she whispered, knowing he could hear her. “Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow. Tell me that for the last five months you haven’t lied about where you were going. Tell me that you really didn’t forget about our anniversary. Tell me that she’s not the one you’re going to every day. Tell me I’m wrong. I beg you,” she whimpered.

Pathetic, she thought.

He still hadn’t moved. Maybe he was preparing his apology, or a break up discourse, where YN’s thoughts.

“YN,” Harry sighed, still not looking in her direction.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” She pressed him.

“I - I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if I’m wrong or you don’t know what to say?”

“I didn’t cheat on you.” His voice was low, like it wasn’t really his.

Many would laugh but she had never thought about it. She trusted him too much to even consider it. From day one of their relationship to this day, she’d never believed any rumour, any post on social media, any article, any fan, any ‘friend’. She believed him, she believed his ‘I love you’s, his ‘I care about you’s, his ‘you’re the love of my life’, his ‘you’re the only one for me’. No doubt there.

What she thought and worried about was him falling out of love.

And there were more and more signs it had already happened.

“I know. It never crossed my mind.”

Harry’s mood was changing constantly for the last 20 minutes. From very relaxed, to riled up, then annoyed and eventually scared. His mind was full of enigmas he couldn’t solve. Mixed emotions and feelings, messing with him.

“Then what are you accusing me of?”

“Assuming I - we - are fine.”

“YN-”

“Harry. Be genuine. If not with me, then - then just with yourself.” The least she could do was make him realise it.

“I am. I - I am genuine. I -” he gulped. “I love you.”

It was like a dagger stabbing her in the heart. The sentence, echoing in her brain, quizzical voices talking over each other, ragging on her.

Where was that man who’d throw blankets over her barbed wire? She made him her temple, her mural, her sky. Temple, she went to ask for advice, direction, forgiveness and adoration. Mural, she appreciated all over and watched being appreciated by so many. Sky, she couldn’t imagine living without, looking up to it, thanking it for its presence.

“I love you.”

But this one was full of it, full of actual love. It could say everything just by the way she expressed it, all feelings inside it. No more to add, nothing to cut. Just three words. Three sincere words.

“Please,” he begged, knowing what was awaiting him. “Can we go to sleep? We’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise.”

Letting it slide would mean not talking about it until the moment she’d grow some confidence. She couldn’t do it. As much as it hurt her, what was coming, she needed to be strong. She needed to hear it. No matter the heartbreak.

“You’ll break that promise. Promises about coming home on time, meeting me up for lunch, going with me to that new sushi restaurant, showing me your newest idea for a song. Promises you break, one after the other since February.” She stood up, walking up to him. “Promises about missing me-”

“Stop.”

“Promises about caring about me.”

“I said stop, YN.” His voice slowly gaining power.

“Promises about loving me-”

“I said stop!” He shouted, making her flinch. “Stop it, YN! The way you feel doesn’t give you a reason to put it on me, making me feel like a monster, like the one responsible for everything.”

“But you promised all those things, not meeting them at the end.”

“So what?”

She begged her brain to play with her. He didn't just say it.

“Harry, you lied so many times that I don’t know what’s true anymore. Last month, you talked about meeting Jeff for coffee and the next day there were photos of you with Olivia all over the internet. Few days ago you mentioned the trip with Chris and Gemma, but the same day the trip is going to be, are the days Gemma is spending at her parent’s farm and Chris is visiting our house. Today you said you loved me and - and -,” she couldn’t say it.

This conversation felt like running up to the finish line of the run, you didn’t want to participate in. One that wouldn’t bring you fulfilment. One that would leave you sore all over, but mostly hurting your poor heart. One that the winner - you - would be an actual loser.

He stood silently, looking down at his white socks. He couldn’t bring himself to look in her eyes. She made him aware of his feelings. Or the lack of them. This whole conversation not only angered or annoyed him but mostly made him think. Why did he lie so many times? Why couldn’t he stop? What was he thinking then and now? When did it all start? When did he lose it? Where was he, not realising he was hurting one person he promised not to lay a finger on? Why wasn't there any guilt? If so, why couldn’t he look into her eyes?

“When was the last time you asked anything about my life? Do you remember what show I’m working on? Do you remember the date we scheduled to fly to London? Do you remember anything?” She started listing everything that was bothering her.

“I told you about that new show,” she started answering for him. “Stranger Things. I wrote that one character, a guy who loves music, is an outcast. Character that is so close to my heart. One, I’m proudest of. Do you remember talking about it? Or rather me telling you about it?”

Silence.

“What about that one conversation about going upstate to my cabin? We’re supposed to leave in three days. Or are you meeting up with Olivia to discuss scenes that you do not have together?”

Perhaps she was jealous. And perhaps, deep down, she thought about the possibility. The infidelity. She was so stunned with the love he made her used to be, trust he provided, that the concept of him being unfaithful was buried within other problems.

“I’ll pack some stuff and leave for a few days.” It was all he said, before moving upstairs, leaving her flabbergasted.

Like in a trance, all feelings leaving her body, she walked to the couch and sat down. Thoughts were swirling in her mind, making her numb. She looked across the room, finding the photo of her and Harry from their first visit at Anne’s, laughing maniacally because Gemma had said something funny. It was the first time she met his family properly (in real life, not on FaceTime), seven months into the relationship. It was crazy how now she considered them her family too. Even more than her own.

Was it all going to collapse now?

“Now, lovebirds, big smiles for the family album!” Anne shouted over Christmas music playing loudly.

The warmth coming from the fireplace behind her, and the one provided by Harry, made her cheeks feel hot. Matching sweater she had bought for her and Harry, tickling her neck, big woollen socks she got from Gemma tucking her. They were right after the big dinner, carols singing and gifts exchanging. It all felt like Christmas portrayed in movies.

“It’s an honour, you know,” Harry whispered.

“What d’you mean?” She looked up at him.

“Mum has a big album with only a few photos from each year ending up there. I think it’s the last vacant space for 2018, love.” Harry squeezed her closer to himself, cuddling her. “Now say cheese or gimme a kiss.”

“I’m not kissing you in front of your mum!” she protested with a teasing smile.

“Don’t be a prude,” he joked. “One, little kiss?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’.

“Don’t make me beg.” Harry pouted, stepping on the dangerous territory. His pointing finger holding her chin, making her look at him once again.

He smirked, “you look even more beautiful today, my love.” Smirk turning into his winning smile.

“You are unbelievable,” she shook her head, slightly puckering her lips.

“Okay, that’s enough flirting!” Gemma yelled. “Mum snap a photo before you become grandma.”

They laughed in embarrassment but underneath feeling peaceful.

With a Gucci suitcase in hand, Harry appeared in a corner of her eye, almost swimming to the front door.

“I’ll be back in a few days. I - I need to think about it all. I lo - I’ll see you then, YNN.”

Just that.

The door closed, soon being followed by the sound of the engine starting and slowly withering.

She knew her love should’ve been celebrated. But he tolerated it.

And she did nothing.

She sat and watched him.

#action!universe #director!reader #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles

1K notes · View notes

myoddessy · 2 years

Note

Do you think you can write any hc for spike jonze??? If not it’s fine :)) it can literally be about anything

getting spike requests makes me so happy!! he is the loml

SPIKE JONZE WITH A FAMOUS DIRECTOR GF

You guys probably met through a mutual friend. Like, the friend was throwing a small party for a bunch of directors they knew to try and help people build connections in the industry and you were both wall huggers who happened to be next to each other.

Spike will never ever tell you this but he left a conversation to pose next to you as a way of trying to talk to you. Jeff, however, knows and endlessly mocks him for it but Spike's defence is that the conversation was just really boring.

You were really new to the directing business when you two met, having only worked on small indie and film festival projects while he'd done a bit more work with music videos and Jackass.

You two would probably be glued to each other for the duration of the party, going to get drinks together, talking to other people together, sneaking outside for some fresh air together. By the end of the night you were leaving with several phone numbers, friends, and a date the following night.

Your career grew incredibly fast after you guys met, working with a lot of the other directors you'd met that night, it wasn't a surprise when their names helped take your visions further than you ever could alone until your name grew to one of legend.

Spike would love to visit you at work, and vice versa.

He loves when you visit him on Jackass sets but is always the smallest but worried that one of the guys is gonna prank you, but it turns out that he was worrying about the wrong thing when Johnny and Jeff end up weaponising your influence over him to lead him to a few pranks that made great cut scenes.

You guys are a big thing in the film industry. You more than him, but he's perfectly happy with that. He's embraced his title as your trophy wife with pride.

He's always with you at award shows, and whenever you win, the camera will cut to him with the most lovestruck and awe-filled gaze you've ever seen and it's the cutest thing ever.

Very much an it couple. And even though paparazzi almost never catch your rare pda moments, you guys are pretty much known for interlocked hands and him living by the sidewalk rule.

He gets so happy when you ask for his input on things your working on. Whether it's at home, curled on the couch and you're just bouncing ideas off of each other, or he's visiting you on your set and you're asking for his opinions, it makes him feel so special and valued.

#spike jonze x reader #spike jonze #jackass x reader #jeff tremaine x reader #johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville x reader #director!reader #famous!reader #celebrity!reader #chris pontius #steveo #bam margera #ryan dunn #dave england #danger ehren

52 notes · View notes

notafunkiller · 4 months

Text

not made of glass

Summary: After shopping for your Christmas tree and running into an old acquaintance, Bucky's mood completely changes.

Pairing: director!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 24, Bucky is 36), degrading, praising, chokíng, teasing, dirty talk, language, pet names, come eating, jealousy, a little metal arm kínk, daddy kínk, no condom (but they are both clean and r is on birth control), implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 3.3K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: An extra thank you @lavenderhaze967 for her help and support!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

He’s sulking. You don’t know what happened since you came from the tree shopping, but he’s been like this for hours.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I can try to take over,” you offer for the fourth time from the living room.

You don’t know how to cook. And even if you tried, you wouldn’t be as good as him, but you don’t want him to do it if he doesn’t feel alright.

“No, no, it’s fine.”

You sigh when you hear his voice. He sounds so off... but he refuses to tell you what’s happening, and you can’t push him more. Maybe it’s work.

“Bucky, you know you don’t have to do anything, right? We can order something. If you don’t feel like it, I can even...” But you pause, knowing better than to continue the sentence. Both: give you some space or leave you alone for a bit would be wrong. “Did something happen? With the project I mean.”

You drop the ornament on the couch and make your way to the kitchen.

Without waiting for him to answer, you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pulling his back even tighter against your chest.

The Christmas tree and the food can wait. And you definitely don’t care about his covered in flour apron. You just want him to know you’re there.

You feel him tense for a few seconds, but you don’t move, instead you place your palms on his chest and hug him harder. That’s when he melts, his shoulders dropping a little. You smile before leaving a small kiss below the back of his neck.

“Who made you mad? Who do I kick?”

“I’m not... I told you I’m not mad,” he murmurs, but you don’t buy it.

“Ever since we bought the tree, you’ve been acting strange. You’re so tense, bubba.”

Bucky sighs, shaking his head at the same time as he decides to cover your hands with his. They’re warm and a little sweaty.

“I am just nervous about the food. I don’t want to screw it up.”

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me, don’t lie to me when I clearly want to solve this.”

You take a step back, upset, dropping your hands. This is not going to be a good conversation if he isn’t going to really talk. You don’t even know what you did wrong.

“Hey, hey! You didn’t do anything wrong. I am so sorry, but it’s really-”

“If you say it’s nothing one more time!” You snap, unable to keep your voice down. You don’t want to fight with him, you never do. It’s the worst feeling in the world, but he refuses to share. He is so stubborn!

“I am sorry.”

“Just tell me what happened. What made your mood change like that?”

“It’s silly,” he says, wiping his hands on his apron. “Nothing happened. Just... you know, it happens.”

Of course mood changes can just happen, but, in his case, unless it’s something that is really bothering him, it doesn’t last for so long. And he always talked to you about it, so it must be something you did.

“Did I do something Bucky? Did you,” you bite your lip when you feel yourself starting to get teary. You’re not going to be a cry baby. “Feel embarrassed by me?”

He jumps, bringing his hands to cup your face gently. You don’t move, enjoying his touch so much. “Bubba, no! No, no, no. I told you, you’re perfect. Fuck,” he curses, looking away. “I should be the one asking you that... if you feel embarrassed to be seen with me”

“What?”

“When we met with your... friend. I know we talked about our age difference before and all of that, but-”

You interrupt him before he can finish that sentence, still shocked. He was sulking for hours because he thought you’re unhappy to be seen with him all of a sudden? “When have I ever been embarrassed to be seen with you, bubba? I thought I made my feelings quite clear from the beginning. Did I say something today to make you feel this way?”

You’re trying to remember anything that could have triggered this type of thought, any gesture... anything, but you genuinely can’t find anything.

“This is the thing... you didn’t. You were just yourself: sweet, funny, and amazing. You reunited with your friend and all I could think was how much I want to...” He closes his eyes as if he’s fighting something inside his mind.

“Wanted to do what?” You push him to continue, happy he is finally opening up. You hate when you don’t know what he’s thinking about because you can’t reassure him like this.

“I’m a jerk, baby. I wanted to wipe off the smile on his face and take you to the car to fuck you. It’s immature, I know.” He brings his hands to his hair and he pulls. And pulls. “But I’ve never had this urge before. It was eating me alive.”

“You were jealous of Mickey?”

“I was, yeah,” he admits immediately. “The way he looked at you, the familiarity, the jokes... you giggled at his comments, and I thought I am gonna make a scene right there and then fuck you until you’re so full with my come you start dripping.”

That surprises you even more. You didn’t expect him to be jealous, especially not on this level since he’s always calm and collected, and you’re the one going crazy. And him wanting to fuck you with this urgency? It makes it even more interesting.

“He smiled quite a lot, didn’t he?” You bring your hand casually to his chest again. “Well, we know each other after all. He was one of my professors’ assistant, remember?”

Oh, how can he forget?

“Yeah, I remember very well, baby, trust me.”

“Should I tell you a little secret?” You move your fingers up until they reach his bottom lip. You want to distract him, to push him to get what he wants, ao you can see more of this side of him. “I kinda had a crush on him. He was like the hottest guy in my classes, you know?”

She immediately notices a flicker of darkness in his eyes, as if she’s just touched a nerve.

“You had a crush on him, huh?” He asks through his teeth, but not aggressively at all, more like challenging. He probably knows what you’re trying to do, but he still responds.

“Yep.” You grin playfully. “A huge one. My first real crush to be honest.”

“You’re enjoying this.” Bucky shakes his head, smiling.

“I don’t enjoy you thinking I’d be embarrassed to be seen with you.”

Surprisingly, he grabs your waist, pulling you toward him. You whimper when your breasts crush against his chest but stay still.

“You know exactly what I meant, don’t play.”

“And I see your mood changed all of a sudden.”

“Are you horny because I got jealous? Is that it, baby? You want me to-”

You groan, interrupting him, as you move your hips a little to meet his.

“I am horny because you were so close to going feral on me.”

Bucky smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve seen him smile before. It’s playful in a different way, as if he’s hiding something, and the fact you’re in the dark brings him endless satisfaction. Then he grabs your cheeks with his left hand, the coldness making you jump a little.

“You wanted me to go feral on you, huh?”

You don’t let him enjoy the moment for too long as you cover his hand just to move it lower until it rests on your neck, nothing you’ve never done before. But he surprises you again by actually squeezing the sides teasingly without taking his eyes off you.

You can’t help but whimper. You’ve wanted him to choke you for so long, but you didn’t want to push. It looks like he did too.

“Want you to go feral on me now too.”

You expect him to tease a bit longer, maybe even make you beg for it, but he doesn’t. He quickly rips your shirt in half, buttons flying eveywhere in the room, but he doesn’t give a fuck.

At least you aren’t wearing a bra, otherwise it would be ripped, too.

He’s not gentle when he turns you around by your hair, and you groan, the pain bringing pleasure, when you feel his fingers close to your roots. Your knees are suddenly weak too, but his grip on your waist as he pushes down your pants and panties at the same time keeps you on your feet.

He’s never been so fierce with you... always so careful. But you wanted this. You craved this.

“You’re gonna get it, don’t worry.” He pulls your hair again, and you moan. “Gonna make you my comeslut in a sec. Walk.”

You don’t say anything as you move to the living room quickly, with his hand still in your hair. You step out of pants and panties right before you reach the threshold. You don’t him to slow down, you want him to fuck you the way he craved it when you ran into Mickey.

“Hands and knees.”

You turn your head as much as his grip allows it and smile. “Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll consider it since you held back today. Why should I-”

But he doesn’t let you even finish your sentence as he is pulling your hair to guide you down. He’s not even doing it hard, but it makes you so wet. You love this side so fucking much.

“I’d advise you to do what you’re told.”

Even his tone is more demanding and deeper. You close your eyes and, despite your urge to be a brat again, you get on hands and knees as he told you. You want his cock more than anything.

“Like this?” You tilt your head enough so he can see your smirk, knowing the patronizing tone will drive him crazier.

“Need to fuck the attitude out of you, don’t I?” He smiles back, lowering his sweatpants. You turn your head, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you blush.

“You can try, but we both know that’s-”

He’s not just at your entrance, he’s pushing inside you.

You gasp, surprised he did this without warning you.

“You okay?”

You nod, hoping he can see you, when he grabs your ass. He pushed only a bit, waiting for your approval.

“Bubba?” He whispers, and you can sense the worry in his voice. But you’re really wet and horny, and you want to be fucked.

“F-fine. I’m fine, keep going. Please.”

“Who?”

“James?” You try, unsure, feeling him getting inside you deeper and deeper.

“Sweetheart, that’s not what you usually like to call me, is it? Don’t lie to yourself.”

“W-what?” The way he’s filling you makes it impossible for you to focus. You can barely breathe properly.

“Aren’t you a comeslut for daddy? Why do you prolong your suffering?”

“I’m not...” you whimper, playing around. “I’m not a comeslut.”

“You’re right, you’re not. Yet.”

He starts thrusting pretty slowly, probably wanting to make sure you’re getting used to it, but his hand in your hair shows you that things aren’t going to be so tame for long.

“God, look how fucking wet you are, doll. Taking me so well, hungry for my cock.”

You whimper, thrusting your ass back because, as he speaks, he slips out of you completely, letting you empty.

“Daddy, please.”

You don’t care if your neediness is evident in your voice, Bucky already knows you’re desperate for him. And after he’s been sulking and refusing to tell you why, he owes you this.

“What?”

“Come on, fuck me. Gimmie... gimmie your cock. Pound me. Didn’t you say you were gonna go feral?”

He doesn’t need another invitation, and you realize immediately he is not going to hold back as he grabs your hips with more force than before and slams inside you. His balls hit your clit over and over again, and you moan even louder, tilting your head so he can get the hint you want him to pull your hair. But he ignores it.

He continues to fuck you without stopping, making sure to almost pull out completely a couple of times just to push back in hard, driving you crazy.

“A crush, huh? Your first real crush.” He sneaks his metal arm under your body and squeezes one of your breasts.

Jesus!

“B-Bucky!”

“Try again or I stop right fucking now. I’ll use your mouth, and you won’t get to come.”

You gasp and almost tell him he wouldn’t dare, but wouldn’t he?

“D-daddy, please. I love you.”

Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s smiling.

“Do you?”

“So much, please don’t stop.”

He’s slowing down a little so you can speak, matching his thrusts with the way he is playing with your breasts.

“You’re so adorable when you’re cockdrunk. But should I-”

“Please, I had a crush on you too.”

When he frees your breast, you want to scream. You didn’t lie, and he knew it. You had a huge crush on him as you were filming, but it was innocent and cute. The dirty thoughts started after, so why is he so annoying?

He doesn’t drop his hand, though. He moves it higher, wrapping it around your neck.

“That’s it?” He playfully squeezes the sides of your neck, and your eyes roll back in pleasure. He knows exactly what buttons to push, and the more you fuck, the better it gets. “Just a crush?”

“I love you, daddy. And I need it faster, please.”

He doesn’t just fuck you faster as you want, he also somehow fucks you deeper, his fingers tightening instinctively on your hips. You’re a moaning mess at this point, unable to say anything else but his name, and even that comes out stuttered.

You can barely keep your head straight when he starts really choking you. You expect to feel like you’re suffocating, some panic or discomfort, but his cold grip on your neck only makes it hard for you to focus on anything... impossible to think, and a little dizzy.

“You’re a fucking tease, aren’t you?”

Tears. You feel many tears leaving hot trails on your cheek. You can’t even open your eyes.

“You just wanted to be pounded so hard that you taunted daddy with his jealousy. Bad girl.”

You’re so, so close, you can barely even hear him. Your ears are ringing and you moan loudly. You have no idea how he even can speak.

“Fuck,” he whimpers when you unconsciously move your hips back to meet his thrusts, desperate for more before he slaps your ass twice. The moan you let out is so high pitched even you are surprised. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? You’re a whore for a bit of pain.”

You are. You love it with him because you trust him. You know he’d never go too far even when he’s wild and crazy like this. And that only turns you on more and more. You’re so close that you can almost taste it.

“But you’re my little baby, aren’t you? I’m the one y-you need. Fuck!”

You’re screaming before he can even finish speaking as the strongest orgasm you’ve ever experienced takes over your body. It’s a blinding pleasure you can feel everywhere: from your pussy to your head and even fingers. And the way he keeps thrusting in and out of you at the same speed prolongs it.

“D-daddy, please,” you groan when the pleasure turns into sensitivity. You want him to feel at least half as good as you do. You try to open your eyes as you tilt your head back so he can see you, but the tears make your sight blurry. “Please... c-come inside me. Give me your come, fill me up, I neeeed it.”

And while he moans your name, he does, making you realize he’s been really holding back his release all this time. He drops his hand from your neck just to grab a handful of your tit and squeeze as he comes. And comes. And comes.

“Jesus, d-doll. Take my come. Got so much for you. So, so much.”

You love how feral he is, how it feels to be used like this. You want to be his toy.

“Thank you, daddy. Thank you for your come.”

You feel the pressure and weight of his chest pressing against your back, but he doesn’t let go of your breast, fondling it gently.

“Fuck, this was...” He doesn’t even finish his sentence, trying to catch his breath. You are both sweaty and warm, but you don’t care. You love being so close to him.

“This was so fucking good, bubba. Why did you hold back all this time?”

He doesn’t answer straight away, instead he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to the middle of your back, rising at the same time.

“Didn’t want to hurt you, bubba.”

“Told you I am not made of glass!” You try to stand up, too, but your knees are so wobbly that Bucky has to help you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist. You feel his come start to drip out little by little and you moan, scooping some of the come with two fingers and then bringing it to your lips.

You whimper the moment you get a taste, looking at Bucky to show him exactly how you feel about it. Quickly, you bring your index finger that is still covered in come to his lips, wanting to share with him.

Without hesitation, he opens his mouth, letting you smear some come on his tongue before he cleans it all by lapping at your finger.

You smile. “Promise you won’t hold back, and that you’ll talk to me the next time you feel like this. I could never be embarrassed by you or to be seen with you, bubba. You’re my baby, okay?”

Bucky smiles too, letting your finger out of his mouth with a pop. “I’m sorry, you’re right. And you’re my baby, too.”

“I know, but I was scared I did something really wrong and I didn’t...”

You don’t know how to continue, but you don’t have to as he pulls you into a tight hug, your head resting against his chest.

“I am sorry. I let the jealousy blind me because I felt insecure. I sometimes wonder if I’m enough for you.”

“Enough?” You sigh, kissing him all over his chest T-shirt. “You are everything, and you make me so happy. Please, don’t ever doubt that!”

“I’ll try, bubba, and thank you.” You feel his lips on top of your head, so you close your eyes, enjoying this moment. You’re gonna show him how much he means to you even more. “Do you feel sore?”

“A little,” you snort. “But it was soooo worth it. We have to do that again. Gosh, and the way you choked me, Mr. Barnes!”

He starts laughing at your tone, which makes you laugh too. This is your Bucky. You love him so much that you wish you could take away all of his fears and second thoughts. He is yours, and you are his.

“Noted, baby. You’re not made of glass.”

“Nope.” You break the hug just to take a step back and look around. You made a mess, and you haven’t even finished with the Christmas tree.

It’s gonna be a long evening.

“Gonna run you a bath, then we can continue with,” he waves around. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #celebrity!bucky barnes #dilf!bucky barnes #dilf!bucky #director!bucky barnes #director!bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #my stories #my fanfics #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #sebastian stan

2K notes · View notes

mrsrushman · 2 months

Text

She’s so short and cute 😭 director Scarlett please yell at me

#scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #director

628 notes · View notes

morwap · 5 months

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑

remus lupin x fem!reader

angst/fluff??

nav | r.l m.list |

modern au!, film director!remus, swearing, long distance, the title is from a lyric i thought was in a jeff buckley song,

───────✧ 𓆩♡𓆪 ✧───────

now you stared at your phone, the pit in your stomach grew and grew. did he even want you to see it? maybe you’re just fucking delusional and it’s not even about you.

you can remember everything, like it was glued into your brain, every single shot and scene deliberately thought out by only someone that knew you. a part of your life told on screen by someone else’s perspective, but it was also a part of his life.

did you expect it? no, not at all. all you did was want to watch a movie, which made you think it was fate once you realized what was going on.

you knew it was wrong to get on your phone during a movie, knowing you were probably being written about on r/assholes, but you had to know.

typing the title of the movie with a few typos and then searching for directors, writers and producers. you saw it, the name you knew that would show but you just needed to know it was for real.

written - directed - produced by Remus Lupin

you shut your phone off instantly.

the characters names were different of course, but the posters in the female leads room were yours, the way she dressed was yours, the way she did her hair was yours, the way she did her skincare was yours, even the text messaging scenes were how you typed. It was you.

you watched as the characters texted some even being the exact messages, getting close so fast, sharing secrets and telling each other everything.

it would switch from each point of view.

arguments told from each perspective, you could tell he tried to get your feelings portrayed correctly and all you could do was smile.

the distance and longing told between the two characters, told you how he felt. once the characters had met face to face, it was an exact play by play of how it went. the nervousness that went through the characters went through you too.

once you heard the song you knew what scene was coming. the female lead walked around his bedroom, looking at all his things and teasing him as his vinyl started to spin and music started to flow. soon enough their lips were locked.

you were surprised when it didn’t end when the two characters slowly lost contact, it showed how badly they wanted to text but since it had been long they didn’t know if it was appropriate.

the characters went on in life, then by fate went back to each other. what stuck with you was the male lead saying “it only takes one phone call”. Is that what he wanted? you left the theater quickly once the credits ended.

now your finger hovered over contacts, you scratch your head before finding his number. you sighed and closed your eyes then quickly pressed call.

there was barely a ring before you heard his voice.

“y/n”

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #marauder era #marauders #marauders x reader #the marauders #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin my love #film director!remus lupin #fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom

439 notes · View notes

mahoganygold213 · 2 months

Text

96th Academy Awards - March 10, 2024

169 notes · View notes

rroechan · 4 months

Text

False Last Act

All those days in the hospital, surely there was something better to do, right? Rather than direct a story that'll never end... -

Inspired by this piece here !

[carrd, comms, and other such things]

#real funny that its madoka magica #total coincidence #orv #omnicient reader's view point #orv fanart #hsy #han sooyoung #orv epilogue #Director of the False Last Act #rroesfandommania

272 notes · View notes

thestoryofusstan · 2 months

Note

💿💿🙏✨

Harry supports director!yn as she becomes the first woman to make a billion dollar movie for ‘Barbie’.

this is actually such a cute ask omg… also i got a bit carried away so she’s a bit long😭

—

you were dressed in a hot pink silk gown, with shoes equally as bright. you probably would have not worn something so.. eye-killing, if everybody else in your— harry’s, technically, but your name would be on the lease soon, house.

you were young for your field. twenty six— but still.. young. you’d made the biggest movie of the summer, and now.. ever. the barbie movie, starring margot robbie and ryan gosling. (and yes, you did shed a few tears before you met them. so what?)

when you found out through a very excited text from your mom that barbie was the first woman-directed movie to make a billion dollars, you broke down sobbing. harry, who was in bed next to you, held you and insisted you have a party to celebrate.

hence, house full of pink. most of them were cast members— you’d already chatted with margot for quite a while, but some of them were family and friends.

you could see harry’s sister, gemma, through the sea of people, but no harry.

an arm slowly comes to rest on your shoulder, and before you can panic, a familiar scent filters through your nose. harry’s perfume.

you turn to him with a grin, “hey, you. i was just lookin’ for you.”

he matches your expression, “i was puttin’ together some last minute things.”

you met harry before his live on tour show in london. you were on the way, and then your car broke down, and you sobbed on the side of the road until someone pulled up next to you and asked if you needed a lift. it was harry, and as mortified as you were, you still accepted and even met with him the next day.

you’d been dating for about five years, at this point.

“what things?”

“this,” he states, grabbing a champgne glass and a knife with a grin.

before you can question him, he clinks the knife and glass against each other until he has the whole rooms attention.

“as you all.. hopefully know, we are here to celebrate my amazing girlfriend, and the cast and crew, of making the first billion-dollar movie directed by a woman.”

you blush as everyone applauds.

“y/n, you are such a talented, amazing, gorgeous woman, and i cannot wait to see what other amazing films you make. i am incredibly lucky and thankful to call you my girlfriend. i could not think of anyone more deserving of this. i love you.”

you could nearly cry as he finishes his speech with a light peck on your lips.

“but as much as i love calling you my girlfriend..” he passes off the champagne and knife to someone as he lowers down. your jaw drops, already knowing what he’s doing. “i would love it even more if i could call you my wife.”

everyone in the room screams, gasps, and cheers. you cover your mouth with a hand as tears fill your waterline.

harry pulls out a velvet case and opens it, revealing a dainty diamond ring— he knew you hated over-the-top ones.

not trusting your words, you start nodding as the tears begin to spill.

“yeah?” he asks with a smile.

“yes! oh, my god! you’re fucking— yes!”

he stands up and pulls you into a kiss, and when he pulls away, he turns back to the room, “my fiancée is the first woman to make a billion dollar film!”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry fic #harry #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #director!yn #harry styles x director!reader

199 notes · View notes

all-alone-he-turns-to-stone · 11 months

Text

Naive

Jensen Ackles Masterlist

Summary: It’s your first acting role. So, of course you make mistakes. Of course, you’re stressed and freeze when it’s time to do the sexy scene. It’s not your fault if biting your fingers and playing with your hair are your methods of stress relief. No matter what you do, the director always seem upset with you. You have no idea why until he asks you to meet on set way after shooting for a… private lesson.

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 7131

Warning: Smut, p in v, unprotected sex, grinding, sexual tension, unprofessional relationship, naive!reader, dom!Jensen, director!Jensen, semi public sex

Squares: Jensen Ackles for @anyfandomkinkbingo / Shyness/innocence for @j3bingo / New Job for @anyfandomfluffbingo / Grinding for @spnkinkevents

A/n: Hello hello! So this fic is born from the pic below (the one on the left) and a conversation I had with @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior! Thank you for sharing ideas with me and for being the beta to this fic!! Header made by me with pics from instagram and from the EW!

Don’t forget to leave a feedback! It’s what makes writer want to keep writing!

“Cut!”

In the room, a common sigh of frustration echoed. The little red light disappeared on the cameras as the people behind them stopped recording. Everyone on set, including the actors and the staff, stopped working and stared at the reason why they were interrupted again.

Not totally understanding what was happening and why everyone was looking at you, with rather annoyed expressions, you turned your attention to the director that just called for the cut.

“Why are we stopping?” Playing nervously with a lock of hair, you left your mark and walked towards the blinding lights of the spots that were pointed at you. Most of the crew, including him, were sitting behind them. You just wanted to see his expression, just wanted to make sure the cut wasn’t because of you, just wanted to be sure-

“Don’t move from your mark. How many times do I have to say this?” The director hissed between his teeth.

Freezing completely, you finally understood why the scene had been cut and that it had indeed been your fault. You walked back to your spot, quiet apologies falling from your lips and your head bent, feeling tears burn your eyes. It was your fault, again.

“Alright. Y/n. We talked about this. We even changed the dialogue so it’s easier for you. So why are you still messing it up?” Your director asked, frustration evident.

“I-” You started, but luckily, you didn’t have to defend your case. Your co-star, Jacob, stepped forward, abandoning his mark as well. The director didn’t scold him for that though.

“I don’t understand why we stopped again, the scene was going nicely,” he said, and you looked at him with teary eyes.

“First of all, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” The director responded.

You could just make out some movement in front of you, but you couldn’t really see anything because of the blinding spotlights. But in the end, you didn’t have to strain to see him, because your director walked up to where you were standing. The lights were now behind him, throwing him into silhouette. You blinked a couple of times, and squinted slightly to try and see him clearly. It wasn’t easy, but you finally managed…and immediately regretted it.

Not only was he scary, but he…somehow that scariness was also remarkably hot. You didn’t want to make him angry, but when he was…wow! Which made things so much more complicated and messed up.

“It’s her first role,” your co-star continued in your defense. But one glance from the director and his mouth was shut. “Sorry mister Ackles.” He demurred, and then, your would-be savior was back on his mark, leaving you alone in front of the director, Jensen Ackles.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, now biting your finger. It was all you could do - apologize for messing up all the time.

“Being sorry is not enough,” he walked even closer to where you were, and since you didn’t want to move from your mark, and make him angrier, he was quickly crowded into your personal space. His scent filled your senses and you felt yourself go weak, especially in the knees. You chewed on your finger harder.

“You have talent, Y/n, but you are not focused,” he tapped your forehead which made you wince and blink. When you opened your eyes again, it was to plunge them into his gaze, and you regretted looking him in the eyes. In the darkness, his eyes looked almost black, even though you knew they were really the most gorgeous shade of green.

“Don’t make me regret hiring you.”

It wasn’t really a threat, it was more of an effort to push you in the right direction. After all the scenes you’d already filmed, Jensen couldn’t fire you. It would cost too much to replace you at this point. You knew that, but still, hearing the words from him, the man you looked up to, the man you thought was so talented, so beautiful and so intimidating…well, it hurt.

Feeling your eyes fill with tears again, you bent your head and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright. Now, we’ll do it once more. I want to feel desire between you and Jacob. You are his mistress, you missed him and you don’t have a lot of time with him before his wife gets back. It has to be passionate, rushed, you don’t have time to waste talking about the situation. I want to feel how much you need him.”

You nodded again, trying hard to focus back to the scene, but then your gaze caught something. Still looking down, you had a good view on Jensen’s lower body. And next to his clenched fists, you were sure there was a bump forming in his jeans, a rather noticeable bulge stretching out the denim in his crotch.

You immediately looked away, afraid he would realize that you saw it, but then you were left staring at his hands again. You could see the veins that were protruding up his arms to his elbows where he had rolled up his sleeves, and they were hypnotizing.

“Let’s roll.”

There was a very good reason why you were having so much trouble with the scene. And a big part of that reason was the director was making you incredibly horny, so that all you kept thinking about was him watching you make out with your co-star.

You fumbled the scene again.

“Cut!”

Long sighs and even grunts echoed this time.

“That’s it. We’re taking a break.” Jensen’s voice was so rough, it sent shivers down your spine. This time, you knew it was your fault. You’d managed to kiss Jacob like you were meant to, with a burning passion. But then, when it was time to undress yourself…you froze.

You knew it was ridiculous, you weren’t really going to be naked. There were special items you were wearing for the sex scene. Nothing would be on display, your breasts were covered and you were keeping your underwear on. But the simple act of removing your shirt while he was watching was just too much; you couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry,” you rushed to say, but Jensen was already gone.

You sighed deeply, wishing you could explain to him. There was also a very good reason why you were so shy and uncomfortable with intimate scenes.

You’d dated someone before. Once. One boyfriend in your whole life. You weren’t a virgin, but your only experience of sex had been disastrous and awful. Your boyfriend had managed to make you feel so bad during your time together, so ugly and repulsive that you’d never again shown desire or interest for another man out of fear of feeling that pain again.

And, it seemed, even if it was all fake for a movie, it was still very hard to get past. But you couldn’t tell your director all of that; it was too hard to say it out loud.

When he chose to direct the movie, Jensen wanted to make sure he had the perfect lead actress for it. The auditions took way more time than they’d planned; he had looked and looked, calling back the women he thought weren’t too bad and might work, but none of them were right, and soon there was no one left to audition.

That was when he saw you.

You weren’t even auditioning for the role; you weren’t even an actress! You were working behind the cameras, in the sound department, to be precise. Your job was to make sure the mics and mic packs were working. You had to get to the studio ahead of the others and set up the rooms before the auditions. You tested the speakers and the mics, to be sure everything was working properly, before connecting everything into your console so you could properly record the screen tests.

One day Jensen was early and he got a glimpse of you working, and out of nowhere, walked over to you and gave you a script.

“Try it.” He said simply, with a soft smile.

You thought it was a joke, so you played along and read the script. You knew who Jensen Ackles was, of course, you were quite the fan. So part of you also wanted to impress him, and well…the motivation to impress must have worked, because the next thing you knew, you were cast in the leading role.

Your first role. You were completely new to the acting industry. And your new job was way more stressful than you could have imagined when you accepted it excitedly.

When you met him, Jensen was a nice guy. Patient. Encouraging. But as the spicier scenes arrived, something changed. They stressed you out, you felt like he was watching your every move, and you didn’t know if you wanted to cry, hide, run away from him or literally just grab hold of him and start making out with him.

Of course he was disappointed. He spent so much time, money and energy on you, and now you were messing everything up.

And you couldn’t even look him in the eye to say sorry.

After the break, Jensen came back and sat back in his director’s chair. He was wearing a baseball hat now, and it shaded his eyes, making his features look even more dominant. Another shiver ran over your whole body as you pictured him in the love scene instead of Jacob. There was nothing wrong with Jacob, he was cute. But you wondered…if you pictured Jensen with you in the scene when the cameras were rolling, would that make things easier, smoother?

It was worth a try.

You were back on your mark before he even had the time to call the scene. You were more than ready to show him it had been a good idea to hire you. You glanced in his direction, waiting for him to say action.

“We’re skipping this scene, it doesn’t work at all.” Jensen said brusquely.

You felt a sharp pain in your gut and immediately started chewing on your bottom lip. Of course. Because of you, he now had to change the whole scene.

“Let’s go to act 2, scene 4.”

Filming went okay for the rest of the day. You messed up a couple of other takes and had to redo it, but luckily, your fellow cast members were kind and patient. Still, you couldn’t get Jensen’s sharp voice, telling you to stop messing up the scenes, out of your head. Even now that you were in your trailer, long after shooting was over, you could still hear it echo.

Filming had lasted until the sun was down, and then you did a few night shoot scenes, and work was over.

Laying down on the bed in your trailer, you chewed absently on your lollipop as you read the script over and over again. By now, you knew it all by heart. All you had to do was to feel it, show it, like it was real. Closing your eyes, you imagined your co-star in front of you. You reached out a hand, like he was really with you, and slowly stroked his cheek.

“She can’t know you’re here.”

Your thumb caresses lower on his face until it reaches his lips. There, you look, stare, want more, so you slip your thumb through his parted lips.

“She won’t if we’re quick,” you whisper, your face getting closer. It’s warm, his breath on your face, and a small smile stretches your lips.

You can see Jacob’s brown eyes and curly hair in front of you. You blink, your thumb leaves his mouth to be replaced by your lips. There, the kiss starts slowly, like you want to explore his mouth, get familiar with its shape, tastes and feel.

But quickly, his hands get lost on your body, he grabs your waist, pulls you closer to him. Your lips part, you breathe in the same air as him, and your tongue pokes in. You know you’re not supposed to kiss with tongue, it’s an unspoken rule in the movie industry. But the kiss needs to be passionate, and Jacob doesn’t seem to mind as he kisses back the same. Then, everything speeds up. You get pinned to the wall forcefully, and a soft gasp leaves your mouth as he steps back. You blink.

Jacob’s brown eyes are now a dark green, almost black. His curly hair is no more, it’s now straight, short, but long enough to be tossed to the side and pulled if necessary. And instead of a hairless chin, there’s a delicious copper color scruff on the lower part of his face.

“Jensen…” You can’t help but moan, all air exiting your lungs.

That was when your phone decided to ring, bringing you back to reality. Startled, you sat up quickly and looked around. Another ding reminded you where you were and what was happening, so you rushed to the table to grab your phone.

The screen lit up with unread texts and your heart sank with anxiety. They were all from Jensen.

We need to talk

Meet me on set now

Stress and fear were beating strong in your head when you arrived on the dark, empty set. Out of breath from having run there, you bent down, trying to get oxygen into your lungs. You’d been so worried about what your director wanted, you’d left without thinking about the kind of things most humans would have. Like taking your phone with you, instead of setting it back down on the table and bolting.

“Took you some time,” a rough, angry voice said in the distance. Since the set was closed for the night, there weren't many lights on. It took you some time to figure out where he was, and when you finally reached him, you froze in front of him, your mind going blank.

Jensen was sitting on the metallic stairs that were part of the structure to adjust the spotlights on the ceiling. His right arm was leaning on the railing, his fist tensed and resting near his chin. His other arm was draped over his knee. He was still wearing the same clothes, the baseball hat slightly askew on his head, but this time it wasn't hiding his eyes.

There was a dark fire burning in them.

“I’m so sorry,” you hastened to say, still out of breath. You hadn't noticed you still had the lollipop in your mouth until you spoke. When you realized, you hurried to take it out and hide it behind your back.

“Sorry. You’re sorry a lot,” Jensen said, still not moving from his position. A painful lump formed in your throat at how intimidating he was and how hard it was to look him in the eyes. You opened your mouth to apologize again, but he was faster. Now on his feet, Jensen sprang quickly towards you.

By reflex, you lowered your head immediately. But that seemed to annoy him, as you could hear him clicking his tongue disapprovingly above you. It made you want to be even smaller.

“You have no idea,” he scoffed, and you fought the need to lift your head and look at him to get answers. “No idea what you’re doing.” Like a predator, he started circling your frame. Whenever he looked, it burned and left goosebumps on your skin.

“I…don’t understand.” You swallowed hard and bit your lip anxiously.

“This.” His voice stopped in front of you. The tone he used for that single word managed to make you stop breathing and the lollipop fell from your hand. “How you bite your lips when you’re shy or anxious. How you play with your hair, your eyes wide and clueless. How you always have a finger in your mouth.”

As he was speaking, you felt something on your chin that forced you to lift your head. You followed the movement without any resistance and ended up meeting his eyes. God, your legs got so wobbly, you nearly collapsed at his feet.

“How you never look me in the eyes and always keep your head bent submissively."

Jensen let go of your chin, but you didn’t move. As though in a trance, you kept staring, your lips parted and your eyes teary. But it was not because you were sad or afraid. You were simply, and completely, lost in him.

“You’re so innocent, it’s insane. You ran here immediately, when I asked you to, didn't even bother putting on pants.” Each of his words were slow, like he wanted you to understand them perfectly.

His last sentence brought you back to earth and you broke eye contact to look down and see what you were wearing. Shame burned like a slap in your face when you realized he was right.

You were still dressed for sleep. You were still wearing your version of pajamas - just an oversized shirt and panties.

Crap. Fuck.

You were about to apologize, your head still bowed, when you realized you were looking at something you'd seen before.

It was dark in the studio. But there was no mistaking it. The bump you'd seen earlier, pushing out the front of his jeans, was back.

It took some time for his words to make their way into your brain. After all, like he said, you were acting innocent, naive, a bit slow, even.

But not stupid.

You'd finally done the math in your mind, and figured things out. When you lifted your head again, it was to meet his eyes.

And this time, you didn’t look away.

“I’m turning you on,” you said on an exhale, the truth of the situation sending waves of heat down your body. No words left his mouth, but you didn’t need to hear his answer. The way his face darkened, his eyes roaming your body, was his way of telling you that you were right, and that he felt no shame because of it.

“I didn’t think you had the guts to say it out loud.” Jensen said as he took a step closer to you. By reflex, you stepped back, your eyes still not leaving his.

“I don’t…do it on purpose, I’m sorry,” you offered, stepping back again as he moved closer to you.

All you wanted in that moment was to let him do whatever he wanted to you. You wanted to live out everything you'd imagined all those nights when you couldn’t sleep because you were thinking too much about him. But still, something inside you was holding back.

“Exactly,” he answered, lowering his head. You could barely see his eyes under the hat. He kept walking towards you and you kept walking backwards until you ended up moving beyond the lights to a spot that was so dark by contrast, that all you could see was an abstract, scary shade advancing towards you.

“You don’t even do it on purpose.” He continued. His voice sounded closer than he looked, so you stepped back quicker.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, and finally, you were in another pool of light.

But he wasn’t.

Glancing all around you, you strained your eyes, trying to see through the dark areas of the stage, but it was impossible with the strong light shining down on you. All you could see was your feet, and the area just to your left, where the set was still decorated for the bedroom scene you hadn't been able to get through.

Having been too focused on figuring out where Jensen was coming from in the darkness around you, you hadn’t immediately noticed where he was leading you.

“You need to pay more attention, Y/n. And realise how much of a fucking tease you are.”

His voice echoed all around you, so of course, you stepped back towards the light, the whole situation making you feel equally scared and incredibly horny.

“I’m sorry!” You repeated, biting your lips, your hand near your mouth like somehow, biting every part of your body could help you.

That was when your back hit a wall. Or, at least, you thought it was a wall at first. Had to be. But then, you could feel it move behind you, rising and falling. The warmth of it hit next, and finally, the soft breath lifting your hair with each exhale.

“Stop. Being. Sorry.”

Your whole body froze as you felt how tense his body was behind you. The tension was so strong, it was overpowering the room, and it was controlling you. Without thinking, you melted into his body, and your whole demeanor changed. “Why don’t you make me, Mister Ackles?”

A growl answered your challenge. “I knew it.”

And just like that, you were done resisting.

Hands landed on your hips, fingers digging into the skin barely covered by your shirt. He spun you around in his arms so you were facing him. You placed both hands on his chest, and barely lifting your head, you looked up teasingly through your lashes. “Are you done talking now?”

“I knew you were a fucking tease.”

And with that, a smile stretched across Jensen's lips. But you couldn’t admire it for very long, because within a second of that smile, his mouth was on yours for a breathtaking kiss. You felt the air leave your lungs as you kissed him back immediately.

His hands gripped your hips impossibly tight, before he let go to slip them under your shirt, his fingers immediately caressing your skin, discovering the new territory. He touched you everywhere, exploring your body as though he couldn't get enough.

After a few moments of admiring you with his touch, his hands dropped back to your ass, and he squeezed it. Still kissing you, Jensen couldn’t use words, but you felt how he exhaled against your mouth, the way his chest rose and fell heavily, his hands almost shaking on your body.

He was holding back.

Breaking the kiss, Jensen placed his forehead on yours and let a sigh escape his lips.

“We… We shouldn’t do that…”

“Do what,” you panted. You couldn't decide if you wanted to stare at his mouth or stay caught in his gaze, “we’re already doing it.”

“We can’t…fuck, we can't be caught,” he insisted. His mouth was saying one thing, but his body was saying the complete opposite as he pressed himself even closer to you, his hands tightening their grip on your ass cheeks.

“We won’t get caught if we stay quiet.” Brushing your teeth against his lower lip, you stepped forward forcing him to step back until his legs met the bed. The same bed you had to do your sex scene on. What an irony.

“So, if you could stop talking and fuck me already, it would be done faster.”

Hearing those words from your lips seemed to turn a switch in Jensen. If he hadn't been completely sure at first about what you were doing, now all hesitations and worries were gone. You didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes grew darker, you could see pure hunger lurking in his pupils as he looked you up and down. And without delay, Jensen let his hands slip under your shirt, pulling it over your head and leaving you standing in front of him in only your panties.

No words left his mouth as he continued to admire you, and you felt a boost of confidence rising in you. It had been so long since someone looked at you that way, with so much need and desire. Indeed, you weren't sure if anyone ever truly had.

It felt good, freeing, to feel sexy and desired by a man such as him. You felt like you had all the power in the world. If you wanted, you were sure you could make him kneel in front of you, and that was an exciting thought.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Jensen growled, his eyes not getting enough of you. His hands were already in your underwear, trying to get rid of that last piece of clothing separating him from the full view of you.

“I know.” You said in response to his compliment.

It was out of your mouth before you could think twice about it. Never before had you felt so confident in yourself. It felt so good.

You nodded towards him. “Now. I believe I’m the only one naked.”

“Honey, you’re not naked yet,” He said with a smirk before his hands tore apart your underwear. You gasped, surprised at his strength, and your shyness returned for only a brief moment.

“God. If only you knew how bad I’ve been wanting this." he groaned.

One blink. Two blinks. You were back, focused, confident. You were hot, he desired you, just like you desired him. “Then, show me.” One finger pointed towards him, you pressed on his chest to push him softly. Jensen let himself fall back on the bed and looked up at you.

“Undress,” you commanded.

With eagerness, Jensen removed the baseball hat, throwing it somewhere into the dark surrounding you. Your eyes didn’t leave him once as he pulled his clothes off piece by piece tossing them to pile up on the floor around you, until there were none left. And just as he'd admired you earlier, you stared at him, slowly absorbing all of him.

To say he was beautiful was a weak description. Sexy wasn’t even a strong enough word to describe how he looked. He was all muscles, especially his upper torso; his shoulders and arms were thick and round with muscle. A bit lower, his stomach was soft, but you could see the shades of a six pack moving beneath. And below that, resting up between thick thighs, his cock was begging for attention.

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but stare a little too long. He was big, and just imagining him inside of you had you closing your thighs together and clenching around nothing.

“Come here.” He said, his voice soft, but deep.

Jensen clearly couldn’t wait for you to do as he asked, because he grabbed your wrist to make you move forward. You placed a knee on either side of his hips and sat down on his thighs, soaking them in the process.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. All for me?” His face was hidden against your throat and you shivered, goosebumps spreading on your body as his beard created a delicious burn on your skin. He nibbled your flesh, kissed it and marked it with his teeth.

All you could do as he touched you everywhere with his mouth and hands was to whimper. It was so hot, your head was spinning, you felt him everywhere, like you were slowly becoming one with him. “Fuck, please,” you quickly begged.

“Please what?” His lips curled up against your skin, his hands on your ass cheeks inviting you to grind against his thighs. You moaned again, your head thrown back to give him more access to your throat. “Tell me, what do you want?”

“Fuck,” you croaked out, your hips moving on your own now. Grinding felt good, but it wasn’t enough. It could barely scratch that itch, all you were doing was wetting his thighs more and more, and that was very humiliating. You were soaked. It didn’t help that you were straddling both his thighs, so nothing was pressed hard enough against your core. As you expressed your frustration with a whine, your body showed the same frustration by slowing down.

“What’s up baby,” Jensen whispered against your ear, his warm breath sending more shivers down your neck. “Can’t get off?”

You answered him by stopping completely, your breathing fast and irregular. “You have to tell me. Tell me what you want?” He chuckled and suddenly, you were a few centimeters higher, something strong pressing against your core.

A whimper of surprise left your lips as you understood; Jensen had lifted one of his legs, his foot resting on the bed frame. It allowed you to feel it now, feel the pressure, feel him between your legs. To thank him, you kissed his neck and immediately resumed your movements.

Your teeth sank into his flesh just in time to silence your voice. In this position, grinding his leg felt divine. It pressed at just the right spot, and since you'd already soaked his thigh, you could move easily. Your hips rolled without you even thinking about it, you chased it, the high, the peak, the pleasure, but it could only build up more and more and more… without getting that little explosion you were looking for.

And quickly, you were whining again.

“Don’t forget what I said,” Jensen’s voice sounded against your ear again, so rough you nearly froze.

In your current state of your mind, with a climax that didn’t wanna come no matter how much you chased it, it was hard for you to pay attention and listen to what he was saying. It was hard to even think. But finally, you remembered that Jensen had ordered you to tell him what you wanted.

“Wanna feel you inside me, please Jensen, please, fuck me,” you begged, your voice almost pathetic, you needed it so badly. You kept begging, kissing his neck, trying everything to get what you wanted.

“I love it when you beg me.”

You couldn’t stop moving now, your hips went back and forth on his thigh relentlessly. You lost track of time. It felt like you were on his thighs, begging to be fucked, for hours now. So close but yet, so far from your release.

As you were focused on moving your hips and chasing your climax, everything moved at the same time. You were back on both his thighs, and as you ground forward again, you moved further up on his body, which had you…grinding against his cock.

The sensation was completely different. It was smaller, but his cock slid perfectly between the lips of your pussy and pressed on your clit just the right way. Jensen was half laying down to allow you this position, he was resting on his elbows, his dark eyes admiring the view and your pathetic attempts to cum. Now that you were on his cock, you felt a surge of heat pool between your legs. With this new sensation, you became even more desperate to get him inside you. He was so close.

As though reading your thoughts, Jensen only allowed you to rub against his cock a couple of times before his fingers tightened into the flesh of your hips, manipulating your body like you were just a doll, so he could place you where you wanted to be the most.

One of his hands then left your hips, but you barely noticed it as you continued grinding down against his cock. Suddenly you felt something big pressed at your entrance. But you were so wet, it slipped inside you with almost no resistance. A loud moan left your mouth, surprise and pleasure mingling as you were impaled on his cock, letting gravity bury him to the hilt inside of you.

“Oh fuck!” You bit your lips, feeling so full it almost hurt. “You’re so big!” Pressing a hand to your lower stomach, you felt the shape of his cock under your fingers.

“I’m not all the way in yet.” Jensen said, his voice tight.

Your eyes widened, you had no time to prepare yourself before Jensen shifted slightly and pressed down on your hips, forcing his cock even deeper inside you. He pressed until you were flesh to flesh with him, until he was completely sheathed inside of you. Your vision got blurry immediately; it was too much and not enough at the same time. Your breathing cut off at the same time a long moan was about to leave your mouth.

When you got back your sight, you looked down at the man under you and finally noticed why you couldn’t breathe. A big, warm hand was placed on your mouth, skillfully muffling the sound of your moans.

“As much as I would love to hear you scream," a smirk stretched his lips and Jensen narrowed his eyes. “I can’t let anyone catch us. And you’re awfully loud for a shy, innocent lil girl, huh?”

You wanted to talk back so bad, but even if you didn’t have the hand on your mouth, you wouldn’t have been able to form a coherent sentence. Because the moment he said that, Jensen moved his hips up and your eyes rolled back in your head. God, it felt so good, even your thoughts were being fucked stupid.

“Hmmm…” You moaned under his hand.

“Hmmm…” Jensen repeated. “You can bite me if you need. But do not make a sound. Understood?”

Removing his hand, Jensen waited for your answer. Your head was still floating on a cloud, so it took some time for you to understand his order. Mouth half open, you nodded, agreeing to whatever he wanted. As long as he fucked you. That was all you wanted, all you needed.

“Good girl.”

And that was exactly what you did. When Jensen lifted your hips to allow him some room to fuck up into you, you immediately hid your face against his neck and bit down on the soft spot between his shoulder and his throat. At first, his thrusts were slow as though he was testing you. You suspected it was either to make sure you would stay silent, or because he wanted to be sure you were not in pain. After all, he was so thick and big, he stretched you so much that you did feel like you might rip in two.

But when Jensen understood there was no need to worry, that you could stay quiet and that you could take all of him, he let go.

Picking up his speed to a devastating pace he fucked up into you, his hands still on your hips inviting you to slam down each time he was deep inside of you. And each time that happened, he hit your cervix with a beautiful pain that made you bite him harder, your nails digging into his back, anything to hold back your voice.

But you were losing the battle.

After a few minutes in that position, Jensen quickly pulled you off his cock. A pathetic whimper echoed in the room and you never understood it was you, making all those little noises.

“Hold on," Jensen said soothingly, "you’ll be more comfortable like this."

It was hard to fully understand what was happening, your mind was so fogged up with pleasure and all the sensations happening at the same time. But one moment, you were sitting on top of him, and the next you were laying on your stomach, a pillow beneath your cheek and your hips slightly raised.

You didn’t know what the purpose of the pillow was until he thrusted back inside of you, bottoming out immediately. In the new position, he had no trouble moving, and didn’t wait for you to bite into the pillow, grabbing on to it with all your might, before he began moving.

Already, his cock was going in and out of your channel, so hard, so fast, your whole body was shifting and trembling with pleasure. And without realizing it, you were slamming back against him to feel him hit as deep as possible, just to feel that sharp, pleasure-filled pain you enjoyed so much before.

You didn’t think it could be any better, but then…

Jensen’s voice was deep, rough. He wasn’t talking. He was breathing fast and didn’t hold back his pleasure, you could hear it. Groaning, moaning, swearing.

But for him, your pleasure was more important. He wanted to hear you, even if it was muffled against the pillow. One of his hands slid under your body and between your thighs until he found what he was looking for. And the moment he pressed on it, the moment he started rubbing your clit, the pleasure exploded.

It was too much.

With his arm wrapped around your thigh, and his fingers pressing against your clit, Jensen couldn’t go as fast as he had been, but he kept thrusting slow and deep. His fingers played with your clit, brushed it and made quick circles around it until he found the right movement and rhythm that would make you come apart. When he found it, you could hear him chuckle. Even over your own moans and with a shrill sound pounding in your ears, you could still hear him. And what you heard was Jensen, in his deep, rough voice, ordering you to cum.

It was way too much for you.

Your orgasm had been building since you started, so when it finally popped, it was without warning. Your mind went blank, your eyes rolled back, and your body shook under him. It was so intense, you were sure there were a few seconds where you simply ceased to exist.

Nothing existed.

You finally came back to yourself just in time to feel Jensen pull out of you quickly, and then hot drops of something ran down your ass. Your hearing took some time to come back fully, and there was still the echo of something shrill when you turned your head back to look over your shoulder.

Jensen was on his knees between your legs, his hand on his half hard cock. There was cum dripping down his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind as his eyes were closed and his head bent back a little. His climax was probably as strong as yours.

It took some time to catch your breath. And then, the realization of what happened hit you like a ton of bricks. Panic seized you, you tried to get on your feet quickly but tripped and fell back on the bed.

“Hey, hey,” Jensen was immediately beside you, helping you lay back down on the bed. “Don’t get up too fast. That was fucking intense, you might still be light headed.”

You shook your head. “I… I have to leave…” You tried to get up again, but Jensen stopped you. Not able to meet his eyes, you looked to the right, staring at nothing but the endless darkness of the set.

Jensen sighed and rubbed your arm softly. His hand was warm and it felt good against your skin. You didn’t feel it right now, but you knew you would be sore tomorrow.

“Please, don’t leave.”

Surprised to hear that, especially after what you just did, you turned your head and looked at him with big teary eyes.

“I know what we did was not professional.” He said softly.

You nodded and sniffed, feeling yourself get all flustered the more you looked at him. But not because he was intimidating, his voice was gentle.

It was the softest he'd been since you'd started working with him.

You shook your head. “You’re my boss…we can’t…”

“I know.” He agreed simply.

Feeling slightly better, you sat down but stayed on the bed. Since it was still hard to look at him, you stared at your hands and played with your fingers.

“But Y/n…”

You looked up at him again, feeling so many things at the same time. You were scared of what would happen now. Scared because all you wanted was to do it again. Scared, but also hopeful and good. You felt so good. The afterglow of the amazing sex was still there and very hard to ignore.

“I meant it when I hired you. You are beautiful.” Jensen said with a soft smile.

A shy, answering smile appeared on your face at the compliment, but your eyes stayed sad.

“That’s why, when I saw you," he continued, "I…I knew I'd finally found the lead for the movie. You were exactly how I pictured her. And when I made you audition, the joy I felt seeing that you could act? Well, was perfect."

"But…” Pausing, Jensen sighed again. He seemed at war with himself as he tried to explain. You took his hand in yours to encourage him to continue.

“I started falling for you in a way I knew I shouldn’t.” He shrugged and looked away, his fingers playing with yours now. “And then came the sex scene and I was just. You were doing amazing, but I was so jealous. And pissed. Because I couldn’t help but feel aroused watching you make out. So out of both of us, it's really me that's not being professional. Your scenes were fine, I just…wanted to see you do them again and again. And I kept picturing me-”

“Jensen." You interrupted.

Your head was spinning with everything that was happening. What he just said - it was a confession. You had no idea how a man like him could fall for you, but you knew one thing.

You were falling for him too.

“I don’t know what to do,” his hand left yours to be placed against his face in defeat. “I want you. But also, the movie…we can’t do that.”

“I…” You started, your heart beating nervously with what you were about to say. It could be a very bad idea, but for now, it seemed like the best.

" We're almost done filming, and after the movie is complete, you won’t be my boss anymore, so…”

Jensen looked at you with interest in his eyes. “So…it wouldn't be…”

"...wrong." You finished for him. “And in the meantime, we could just call this…” You pointed to yourself and then to him, “...personal training?”

You grinned playfully. “After all, you just helped me find my inner mistress. I think next time we shoot the scene will be a good one.”

Relief seemed to wash over Jensen’s face at your proposition. “You don’t need me to practice, you have lots of talent, Y/n. A lot.”

Heat invaded your face again at his wonderful compliments. You were not used to that “Not that good. So yeah, I’m gonna need that training. Unless you don’t want to?”

The moment you said that, his eyes grew two shades darker. “Oh, I do want to. Come on, let’s go to my trailer, we’ll be more comfortable…ah…rehearsing more of your scenes.”

“Alright. Let me just find my shirt, since you destroyed my panties.” Thinking about how he ripped the fabric apart made you clench your thighs, your face getting warmer.

“I don’t think you can wait that long,” Jensen said as he helped you get up on your feet. He grabbed the bed sheet to wrap it around you. “And neither can I.”

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations @fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

Jensen Ackles tag list: @sexyvixen7 @nitnat6245 @sacriceria @akshi8278 @thoughts-and-funnies @stixnstripesworld @nancymcl @jensendreamland @fiftyshadesgrl @happyt0exist @deans-spinster-witch

771 notes · View notes

corrodedcoffins-blog · 28 days

Text

'It Couple'

masterlist

note: my first andrew ask!!!

warnings: none!

word count: 850~

♡ summary: Where Andrew and Y/n are the 'it couple' of Hollywood

♡ Andrew Garfield x actress/director!reader

request ✓

The loud clicks as well as the bright flashes only got louder and brighter after Andrew and Y/n stepped out of their car, heading into the venue. It was understandable, both were up for very prestigious awards tonight, Andrew for best actor and Y/n for directing as well as writing. But of course paparazzi didn’t care about that, they wanted what sold, and pictures of the couple sold.

The couple was also making their first appearance since their ten year anniversary, they had co-starred in Spider-man together. They were twenty-eight then and both in that place in life to settle down with someone, while still putting their best foot forward for their careers. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, like she was the espresso and he was the milk to a cappuccino.

It took them a while to get married, only being three years of marriage in a ten year relationship, many people at the time pushed for them to take that step. But they knew what was right for them, and they both grew tired of saying ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ when they could be saying ‘husband’ and ‘wife’.

Throughout the carpet they whispered sweet nothings and little jokes only they would understand. It was something the internet loved, how, unlike some celebrity couples, you could see the love in their eyes. After ten years it has never left, forever stuck in the honeymoon phase while knowing each other like the back of their hand.

After what felt like an hour, they finally made their way into the venue, venturing out of their seats to mingle, but mostly enjoying the night out together in peace. Not trying to think about the awards they were nominated for.

It was now the end of the night, both a little tipsy, Y/n already won for best original screenplay. But now was for the big awards, two of which the couple were nominated for, only making it all the more nerve racking.

“And best directing goes to…” The booming voice on stage spoke, of course stalling as they always did for dramatic affect. It was as if a Y/n was no longer there, like she was merely watching at home on a screen, dreaming she was the director to win.

The only indication it had been announced, is the warm and firm hug Andrew brought her into. Leaving a kiss on her forehead in congratulation, but also of pride. His wife won best director.

“Love, I am so proud of you. You deserve this.”

His words brought her back to life, as they always did, looking up at him she left a kiss on his lips, herself and him whispering ‘I love you’s against each other's soft lips. They didn’t care that they were on live TV, they were celebrating. After quickly getting hugs from the cast and crew that were there, Y/n made her way up the stage, accepting the award.

“I truly just had an out of body experience. This has been a dream since I was- god like thirteen, when I took my first film class. Mrs. Goldstone, thank you for fighting for that class to be given at my school. If it wasn’t I wouldn't be here. And to my husband, Andrew, I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t push me to pursue directing six years ago. I love you.”

After thanking the cast and crew, as well as the academy, Y/n made her way off the stage. Only to run backstage to her seat, not wanting to miss the best actor award.Coming back to her seat she was huffing and puffing from all the running, “What? Did you run here?” “Yes, actually.”

Turning his head, left another string of kisses from the woman’s forehead to her check, “I’m so proud of you.”

“And the nominees for best actor!” The camera panned to the respective actors as the man on stage read off the names, “And the award for best actor goes to… Andrew Garfield! Tick, Tick… Boom!”

Both rose from their chairs, smiling widely, and bringing each other into a tight hug, “My turn to be proud. You deserve this, I love you.” “I love you.”

Andrew made his way to the stage this time, accepting the award, shaking the hands out everyone on stage before he made his way to the microphone, “I just can only say thank you. I know everyone says it, but I did not see this coming. I want to thank every member of the cast as well as the crew, you made this movie possible. And Lin, thank you, I love working with you. And my wife, who lied to Lin when he asked her if I could sing. Without you immediately lying for me, this wouldn’t be possible. I love you.”

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x actress!reader #andrew garfield fluff #andrew garfield fanfiction #andrew garfield fic #andrew garfield x director!reader #andrew garfield x wife!reader #husband!andrew garfield

145 notes · View notes

alonetimelover · 1 year

Text

M A S T E R L I S T

Hello and welcome within Action!Universe, where YOU are the main character.

Sit (or lay) comfortably and enjoy the success, drama, love, hate and so much more.

Social Media posts

1. 2017 - 2018 Harry and Director!Reader start their relationship after filming Sign Of The Times music video. Concerts together. First article. Anniversary. Big movie to direct.

2. 2018 - 2019 Harry and Director!Reader anniversary in Italy. One Night Only - Fine Line. Premiere of Director!Reader's film.

3. 2020 Director!Reader nominated for an Oscar. Attending gala with Harry. First win. Gossip. DWD. Betrayal.

4. late 2020 - 2022 Director!Reader and Stranger Things. New man. Harry's House. Drama. First anniversary. Next big film.

5. 2022 - 2023 Privacy has been violated. Surprising reunion. Trial. Songs were written. Midnights. Halloween. Italy. Rumours. 'Cherish her'.

2023 Harry releases an album. Yn and Joe are not fans of it.

Harry's blurbs

2017 - first date

2020 - tolerate it - YN confronts Harry

2020 - champagne problems - everything has its end

2023 - Heartbreak Anniversary - Harry gets to know that YN's pregnant

Joseph's blurbs

to be posted

let's talk about it all requests are welcomed!

#action!universe #director!reader #harry styles x reader #joseph quinn x reader

606 notes · View notes

natashaslesbian · 6 months

Text

We Saved Each Other (Part Three)

Summary: Natasha finds herself feeling protective over you when you have to go and see Doctor Bruce

Word Count: 1.9k

Parings (Natasha Romanoff x Kid!Reader)

Warnings/Content: Red Room references, medical check up, needles, crying, Fury appears, Nat being the biggest softie

————

You woke up with a slight panic, the unfamiliar feeling of the sheets over your skin confusing your small brain. You reached out a single arm and folded it over to pull on your cuffs, but they didn’t seem to be there. You peered around the dimly lit room and your gaze caught a larger frame on the floor, sprawled out with curly red locks. So - yesterday hadn’t been a dream? You were still in your fluffy clothes and in the company of the one person who had ever shown you kindness. Almost on cue, Natasha began to stir. She groaned slightly, probably relieving the ache in her neck from sleeping on the floor. You pulled the duvet up to your chin, afraid the woman would see you and change her mind at hospitality she was offering you. When the redhead saw you were awake too, she smiled. So warmly. So calmly. “Good morning sweetheart!” Her soft nature had you itching to smile back “did you sleep well darling?” She asked, you only managed a nod. Natasha peeled herself from the floor and came to sit beside you, she opened her hand towards you “it’s okay, you’re still safe I promise” she could read you so well. You reached your hand out and slotted it into hers. “No chain?” You whispered.

The older widows heart dropped. They still did that? “No, no chains darling, you’re free to leave the bed whenever you’d like” this was so alien to you, but you sucked in a sharp breath and used your feet to push down the duvet and reach your other arm to Nat. She helped you down off the bed “thank you” you said “you’re very welcome, would you like some breakfast?” You couldn’t quite remember the last time you had eaten, and you were definitely hungry “no thank you” you lied. “It’s alright, you can have something to eat if you’d like” Natasha said “bread?” You questioned, “how about some toast?” You thought inquisitively “toast?” You had never heard of it before “it’s just like bread” the agent started “but it’s warm and you can but butter or jam on top” you were defiantly curious now “please may I have toast?” You smiled “of course”

You decided you wanted to have whatever Natasha was having on her toast, and today she chose butter. You watched her every move as she prepared the simple breakfast. “Here we are” she said. It was almost comical how excited you were over such a basic food but Natasha knew your taste buds hadn’t explored much at the red room. “Is it good?” She said “yes! So tasty!” You squealed, making the most noise you had since Natasha met you, she was loving seeing more of your personality. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long. “Good morning agent Romanoff!” Fury loudly made his presence known. You slid right back into your shell, not daring to look up from your plate “good morning” Romanoff said. “I’ve set up a doctors appointment for the young one, in an hour at the tower with doctor Banner, I thought you might like to take her there” take you where? To see a doctor? Didn’t Natasha say you were safe? The red head sensed your tension and came to Fury for a quiet word “um, is there any chance doctor Cho could see her? She might feel more comfortable with a female” she said “she’s away I’m afraid, it’s doctor Banner or no one” Fury boomed “he’s just gonna give her a check up and take some blood so we can get some information on her” Natasha felt her blood rising “she’s not a lab rat” she shot at her superior “No. but she is entirely unidentified to us. We don’t even know her name. It’s not to scare her Romanoff, it’s to help her okay. Try not to worry. I understand it’s close to home but I promise we’ll keep her safe” Nick’s words calmed Nat slightly, she still knew you would be terrified but she also knew this was important. Who knew what injury’s you could have.

You followed Natasha’s every instruction. Followed her to the car. Sat silently the whole journey. Quietly followed her into the avengers tower. Of course she was looking out for you, trying to assure you that you were safe but you were still scared. “Okay little one” she said as she came down to your level outside of a white door “my really good friend Bruce is a doctor, and he’s going to have a little look at you okay? He’s going to make sure that you’re well and that you’re not hurting. I promise he won’t hurt you” you hoped and prayed that ‘doctor Banner’ would be a girl, but no, instead it was a man, your biggest nightmare. The door opened to reveal a small hospital room, medical equipment littered everywhere, and everything you were afraid of was clear to your eyes. You couldn’t step foot in there. Silent tears crept towards your eyes and the widow was instantly at your side “hey, hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re safe I promise. I’m gonna be here the whole time and I’ll protect you, I promise!” She soothed, it worked for a moment and you crept towards the bed “can I lift you up?” Nat asked, you nodded. You sat in a nervous quietness and as promised, Natasha stayed right by your side. The door crashed open. A doctor came in. You whined quietly and leaned towards Nat. She was slightly took by surprise but immediately wrapped her arm around your shoulders, shushing you softly.

“Hi there, I’m Bruce” the doctor said. He had been filled in on the basics so decided to skip most of the small talk. You apprehensively let him check your temperature, eyesight and blood pressure. At the mention of having to look over your body for injury you focused your attention to the red head. “You don’t have to be ashamed of them, remember?” She said, quoting from your conversation last night. While keeping your dignity, you undressed and sceptically let Bruce take a look at you. He took notes, so many notes on his clipboard. He was probably writing down everything that was wrong with you. Banner made the examination as quick as possible, sensing how uncomfortable you were. He was glad to note down that you didn’t appear to have any recent injuries. “Ok” he said “there’s just one last thing we need to do okay. We need to have a blood test to make sure you’re all healthy inside and so we can learn a little more about you” what did they need to know? There’s nothing wrong with you. “It’s just a quick little prick darling. It’ll be over before you know it. And then I can find out your name. I’m sure it’s just as beautiful as my new friend” you didn’t quite understand her, who was she calling beautiful? Bruce tried to be discreet, but as soon as you saw the needle you flipped.

“NO. NO. NO.” You screamed as you pulled away from them both “you say safe! You going to hurt me!” You started crying your heart out. Natasha was taken aback. “Sweetheart it’s okay I promise, we’re not going to hurt you it’ll just be a small prick” her words brought no comfort. You cried and cried. It was happening again. You trusted her and she was betraying you “No! Let me go!” You screamed as arms wrapped tightly around you “I’ve got you darling, I’m gonna keep you safe I promise” Natasha whispered into your ear. You calmed ever so slightly, her voice bringing you comfort. You were to weak to fight her, there was no where to go. Bruce came towards you with a sharp needle. you would tell them anything they wanted to know, anything that would stop the pain walking towards you. Nat’s grip tightened around you, suffocating you in her warmth. The doctor decided this was his only chance. The needle pushed past your skin, sinking into your blood. You let out the most gut wrenching scream, Natasha had to hold back her tears, she knew all to well what you were going through. “Y/N!” You screamed “my name is y/n” your voice was hoarse, like you were swallowing glass “I promise. Please!” it was hard to comprehend but Natasha heard it “y/n” she cooed “it’s okay y/n. Your safe” nothing seemed to stop the pain and memories that filled your little head. The only thing you could do was squeeze your eyes tightly shut, just hoping and praying it would be over soon. all your strength was gone, small whimpers were all you could release.

“Hey y/n, look” her soft voice caught your attention. She pointed over Bruce, on the other side of the room. “It’s all done” she said “you did so well y/n” you continued to whimper into her shoulder for a few moments and although you were hurting, Natasha was loving holding you so close. “Well done y/n. We’re all finished now” Bruce said. The older widow was quick to remove you from such a frightening environment and headed to her bedroom in the tower. The morning had taken its toll on you, you were in desperate need of a nap, but you knew you weren’t allowed one. “Here we are y/n. This is my bedroom, and you can stay here for as long as you need. You hummed in an unsure agreement “would you like to take a nap sweetheart?” Natasha said as she sat you down her bed. “I can have nap?” You said as you rubbed your sore red eyes “of course you can y/n. It’s okay if you’re tired and need a rest” you shyly nodded and crawled up to the pillows with Natasha’s approval. Nat helped to tuck you in all snug and then set off to the door “Natty?” You whined. Her heart stopped, the first time you used her name and it was the most beautiful nickname she had ever been given. “Yeah y/n?” She said “will ou howld me pwease?” You mumbled, already falling to sleep “of course” the redhead wasted no time and climbed into her plush bed with you, you wrapped yourself around her and fell into a deep slumber.

Natasha was too shocked to move. This tiny little person she had known for less than 48 hours had given her so much trust. But Nat knew she was a monster, even if the little y/h/c haired girl didn’t. Natasha was still traumatised by her past, how could she help you deal with yours? She didn’t know the first thing about caring for a toddler, or even about caring for herself. The widow thought of countless ways she could give you a better life, she could take you to an adoption agency, maybe Clint’s family could take you in? But every idea came back to the same thought, she would miss you so much. Natasha couldn’t imagine ever letting you go, she wanted to hold you like this forever. She carefully reached for her phone and dialled her new found friend “Hey Natasha” he answered after a few rings “Hi Clint” Nat said as she took a deep breath “her name’s y/n” Clint smiled, although Natasha couldn’t see it “how’s she doing?” He asked “she’s frightened, scared, afraid, she just fell asleep…” she trailed off “and?” Clint said, already knowing his new partner so well “and” Natasha started “I’m gonna keep her”

————

I’m loving writing this series, please please send me any ideas you’d like me to include or touch on!

-Astara🩷

#marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel fic #nat x reader #avengers #natasha x little!reader #clint x natasha #director fury #nick fury #clint barton #autistic spectrum #natasha x y/n

225 notes · View notes

notafunkiller · 1 year

Text

false god

Summary: On the night of your movie premiere, you and director Bucky finally get closer.

Pairing: director!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 24, Bucky is 35), teasing, dirty talk, pet names, fingering, nipples play, oral sex (the reader receiving), clit play, come eating, metal arm kink, no condom (but they are both clean and the reader is on birth control), alcohol (but neither is even tipsy), aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 8.7K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: Bucky's look is obviously inspired by Sebastian's appearance at the Sharper premiere in London. The dark prince vibes and that hair... ahhh!

An extra thank you to @marvelouslizzie and @lavenderhaze967 for being my beta readers and for the endless support.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

It wasn’t your intention to interrupt him at first, but he was going to notice you anyway and you didn’t want him to think you are actively ignoring him. Because you obviously aren’t. How could you?

“Hi.”

Your voice is really low, but he hears you nonetheless, stopping mid-sentence when he turns his head and sees you so close. “Hey.”

Not only do his eyes get bigger, but there’s also a huge smile that spreads all over his face as he leans in to give you a quick hug. And you clearly aren’t prepared for physical contact at all, especially for the cheek kiss that follows the embrace.

“It’s so nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you, too!” His strong perfume hits you, and you hope the camera doesn’t catch your red face as you both pull back.

“You look amazing!” He’s not even attempting to hide the fact he checks you out. His eyes try not to linger too much on your chest, hips, or legs since the slit of the dress exposes a little bit of skin. The last thing he wants is for you to feel uncomfortable and think he’s a creep.

But you are too busy staring at him to notice. He doesn’t wear a simple suit. No, he went for a freaking villain...ish look that drives you crazy. It’s an all-black outfit: from the Prada blouse he wears under his suit, to his gloves, elegant coat, and Chelsea boots. And that hair? That hairstyle looks absolutely fantastic on him.

“I love this so much!” You say with a grin while gesturing to his body.

He bites his lip shily. “Oh my god… Thank you.”

You turn your head to the woman who is supposed to interview him and whisper a “Sorry”, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. She watches your interaction with a genuinely warm smile on her face.

Bucky, though? He unexpectedly takes two steps toward you, and you see the camera move to catch you both. “Look, guys,” he points out his index finger in your direction. “She’s the one that gave life to this project, the one you should watch it for. Her performance is unbelievable! No one could have done it better.”

If you think you were blushing visibly until now, you’re wrong. Your cheeks get so hot that you have to refrain with all you have from touching them.

“This means so much.” You give him a quick, thankful look before shifting to the camera. “This man,” It’s your turn to point out to him. “...is incredible. His past projects and now False God… Everything he makes is golden. I am very thankful he believed in me and gave me a shot. He’s the best director I have ever worked with, and I really hope you’ll enjoy this movie.”

He thanks you with a tilt of his head and his folded hands, very grateful for your words, and you have to wave goodbye when your first interviewer calls your name.

Bucky shakes his head. “So where were we?”

The rest of the red-carpet interviews go well, with Bucky keeping an eye on you from distance, fully aware of how nervous you must feel since it’s your first premiere as the lead actress. But you mask it perfectly, making jokes and complimenting people now and then. And everyone loves you.

But the introduction in the theater makes you sweaty as Bucky presents you with an encouraging smile. You are the last one and the journalists are already recording. You pray you’ll not make a fool of yourself in front of everyone and fall while climbing the stairs. Thankfully, you don’t, and Bucky tries not to laugh when he sees you breathing out in relief. You watch him place the card he was holding in the pocket of his coat before raising his microphone to speak for a bit about the experience of directing and co-writing, about the cast, the messages, and how thankful he is to his loyal audience, but also the one that will form after this film. You can’t lie and say you’re listening to his speech entirely since you’re often distracted by some hair strands or his beard… His smile is a killer, too. You try to focus as much as you can, though, and when it’s your castmates’ turn, you actively nod and smile. When they pass the mic to you, you try to be as honest and professional as you can, thanking everyone for being there, supporting you, and believing in you. Of course, you praise Bucky extra much. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be standing here, and you’ve learned so many things from him. He’s such a wonderful and understanding director, always informed and always looking to improve himself and adapt.

But sometimes you wish you didn’t work with him… simply because in your delusional mind, maybe you’d stand a chance.

You don’t know why you chose to stay at the after-party. It’s not like you have your friends or family with you since you’re out of the country, and you haven’t had much contact with even half of these people. But maybe it’s an opportunity to get out of your comfort zone and make some new connections. Plus, you can freely observe Bucky outside the workplace.

Some journalists and photographers are still here, but he seems more relaxed. He enjoys having a chat and taking pics with a few actors he worked with in the past, and after he’s done, he invites you and the rest of the cast to join him.

The photographer is very friendly as she tries to arrange you, and you end up in the middle, right next to him.

You gasp when you feel his arm wrapping around your waist so that he doesn’t cover your dress with his coat.

Fuck… He makes focusing so hard.

You don’t know when you developed this crush, to be honest. You worked with him for more than five months, almost every day and everything was professional, sometimes friendly. But nothing more. He’s never even jokingly flirted with you or anyone else on set. He’s not a creep. He’s a really cool —single— guy and it’s so easy to forget how who he is.

You don’t even realize that you’re frowning until you feel Bucky’s fingers tickling you over the dress, making you burst into giggles.

Without thinking twice, you sneak your arm under his coat and return the gesture. He doesn’t chuckle as you did, but he smirks. And that smirk is so charming and sensual you feel like you won a prestigious award.

The photographer approves immediately, giving you a thumbs up, and after a few minutes, you finish. But Bucky makes you all stay in the same position as he takes his phone out of his pocket. He gives it to Steve after he opens the camera and returns next to you.

Unexpectedly, you feel him leaning in as he lets his hand rest on your back. “Should I tickle you again to get that gorgeous smile on camera, doll?”

And just like that, you’re left red and speechless by James Bucky Barnes.

Your sister’s reaction to the selfie makes you smile. She didn’t waste any time and commented on how you got lucky enough to take a photo with the dark prince of the film industry. Such a perfect nickname based on how he looks tonight.

“You’ve changed.” You jump when you hear the dark prince himself right in your ear all of a sudden. You lock your screen and turn to look at him.

“W-what?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. I meant your dress.” You nod in response and immediately remark he’s no longer wearing his coat. That suit looks so, so good up close. But he still has his gloves on, which makes you sad.

You read a little about his metal arm before your audition and you’ve noticed he always had his hands covered on set, so you assume he’s not quite comfortable showing it in public. You only saw it in a few pictures taken by paps in New York, at a restaurant, around two years ago. “May I sit down?”

“Of course.” You clear your throat and look at the table in front of you. He brought two glasses of wine with him. “Is that for me?”

He gives you a teasing smirk before taking a sip. “There’s no one else sitting here, is there?”

“I didn’t want to assume. Thank you.” You smile shily, ignoring his playful rhetorical question, and follow his example, raising the glass to your lips. Surprisingly, it tastes better than you expected, but you don’t drink more. You didn’t eat almost anything tonight and the last thing you want is to feel sick.

“You’re welcome, I thought you’d like this.”

“I do.” You look him in the eyes as you speak. “Very thoughtful of you.”

If Bucky senses your nervousness, which is probably very obvious, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he keeps glancing at you in a way that makes you think he wants you to keep talking. But you don’t. He caught you off guard coming here and offering you wine. It’s a nice gesture: him wanting to check on you and chit-chat a bit, but you don’t know how you’re supposed to act. Especially when you have this consuming urge to touch the strands of his hair that keep returning to his face despite Bucky’s many attempts to keep them still, tucked behind his ears.

“It’s not as good as Natasha’s, but that’s all they have here.” You smile, remembering the day on set when you finished filming a super draining emotional scene after a couple of hours, and Natasha came to take you home. It was the second time she met Bucky, and she offered to take you, him, and the very few members that could come to a small pub, after seeing your exhausted faces. You had dinner and the best wine you have ever tasted. And it was so cheap!

“I didn’t expect it to be.” You straighten your back.

“How comes she left you alone?”

“Well, she has a full week at the agency, she wasn’t even supposed to be here.” But she came anyway because you’re more than her client. She became one of your closest friends shortly after she discovered you at the acting camp. And she’s been with you through every rejection, every small part you got, and now this.

“What about your family? I expected to see them here, I know they were excited. Is everyone okay?”

You smile, raising and shaking your phone a little before putting it in your pocket. “I was actually talking to my sister when you came. They’re all good, thank you for asking.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting.” His wrinkles make him look extra attractive when he raises his eyebrows, frowns, or smiles. You noticed that on set… But in this context? So close? It’s even more challenging for you to keep a neutral face.

“No, no. I am actually glad you came to me, I was planning to leave in a few minutes since it’s late, but I really wanted to thank you for your words today and overall, for the opportunity.” Your voice is shaking, full of emotion, and he immediately leans in, invading your personal space, and reaches for your hands.

Fuck... He’s touching you! He’s actually touching you.

“Don’t ever thank people for something you’ve earned and deserve.” His voice is so gentle and low, making the words hit you even harder. “Alright, doll?”

You nod, breathless, but he doesn’t accept it, squeezing your hand to get your attention. He wants to hear you say it out loud.

“Alright.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

With a playful smirk on his face, he lets go of your hands slowly and pulls back. “Good girl.”

And right at that moment, you want to screw everything and go for it… You are so worked up and tired of refraining from even thinking about it, that you don’t care how scandalous it would be if you jumped to kiss him right there. At least, you’d satisfy this need. For once…

You sigh, mortified. Even if you had the courage to do it, you don’t even know if he likes you like this. He’s been friendly and trying to make you comfortable tonight, and your mind went in another direction.

He probably had so many people in the industry hitting on him, but he was never photographed with them. You don’t know if it’s his personal ‘policy’ or if he is just discreet, and you shouldn’t think about it. But you do, it’s impossible not to.

You need to leave before you’ll start actually indulging yourself in this… fantasy.

You smile, raising from the couch. “Thank you for the wine. It was a wonderful night, but it’s getting way too late.”

And as soon as you finish the phrase, he’s up too, arranging his suit jacket. “You’re right. It’s really late.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you in New York.”

“Me too. At least we’ll be home.” His expression shows how fond he is of the city, and it warms you up. “I already miss it and I’ve been gone for one day.”

You gasp. “You arrived yesterday?”

“Nope, I wish. I landed last night because I had to take care of some additional stuff.”

You’ve been here for two days and you could barely sleep. You can’t imagine how tired he is and you really admire him for not turning down any interview today, but you guess he’s experienced this before.

“Wow, what are you doing still standing here?” You ask jokingly and he looks you straight in the eyes.

“Maybe I was just waiting for you to decide to head out so we can leave together.”

And, of course, you’re taken aback for a few seconds, trying to decide how to answer him. Since he’s in a good mood, you place your hand right over your heart and playfully say:

“Aww, you’re offering to take me to my hotel, Mr. Barnes? You’re so thoughtful.”

“I do actually.” He replies and takes a few steps until he’s by your side. “Sharon is driving, and since we’re all staying at the same place, I wanted to see if you want to come.”

You mentally slap yourself. He’s just being a nice person while you fantasize about kissing him in front of everyone. And as much as you want to find an excuse, you know it would make no sense. It’d be a short ride, plus you really like Sharon. She’s not only a great writer but also a great, fun person. Bucky wanted her on set all the time in case she came up with new lines or scenes as she watched you.

You smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Perfect, let’s get your coat.”

He insists on carrying your bag all the way to your door after you say your goodbyes to Sharon. Bucky’s room is just one level higher, so there isn’t much of a bother. You can’t help yourself but steal a few glances at him as you walk together. You even catch him looking back at you a couple of times, which makes you childishly happy. You realize your crush is getting even bigger tonight and you don’t know how you’ll put an end to it.

You’re right about to open your door when your stomach starts to ramble, and Bucky almost drops your bag out of laughter.

“Hungry?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You bite your lip not to groan, then give him an embarrassed smile. “A little.”

“So the fancy appetizers weren’t enough?” You know he’s teasing you by his tone and the playful grin he displays, so you let out a short laugh.

“Nope. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

You didn’t have time, truth be told, but you’ll eat a great breakfast tomorrow. Now you’re just gonna take a bath and update Nat that you’re going to bed.

Bucky shakes his head disapprovingly. “This is not good for you at all. Your poor stomach should sue you.”

You snort. “I need to find a good lawyer then.”

“Well, if you could eat anything right now, what would it be?”

“Why are you doing this?” You fake complain, trying to match his dramatic vibe. It’s a fun way to end your night.

“Just curious.”

“Burgers and fries. But chicken, not beef.” You say without hesitation and extend your hands so you can take your bag. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome.” He gives you one of his sweetest smiles ever and you almost melt on the spot. You’re definitely crushing on him even harder now.

You look at him one more time before finally going inside. “Good night, Bucky. See you in New York.”

“Good night, doll.”

But you don’t have to wait two days to see him again. Because a few minutes after you get in bed, just watching random Tik Tok videos, he’s back, whispering your name while knocking on your door.

You literally jump, letting your phone on the nightstand, and arrange your clothes as you move.

You wonder if you forgot anything or maybe something dropped from your bag, but when you checked, everything seemed right in place.

Then why would he be here? Is he okay?

You’re even more surprised to see him leaning against the side of the wall when you open the door. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You wave toward the bag he’s holding with a curious look. “What’s this?”

“Burgers.”

“What?”

“I got us burgers and fries. And soda, of course. May I come in?” He asks so casually as if you’ve done this one thousand times before.

“I…” You’re so overwhelmed by this simple gesture, especially since it’s coming from him, that you don’t know how to react.

“Hey, it’s totally okay if you don’t feel like eating with me, alright? I can just give you your food and-”

You haven’t even realized you are frowning until you saw his worried expression, so you immediately cut him off. You don’t want him to get the wrong idea. “No, no. This is so sweet and unexpected. You… You really didn’t have to, thank you so much.”

“So I can come in?” His grin is so playful and confident again that you find yourself smiling back like a fool.

“Of course.” You step back so he can follow you inside, then you close the door. “Bucky, you have the flight tomorrow, too, right?”

“Yes.” He answers as he lets the bag down on the bed and starts taking his shoes and coat off. You watch him carefully, trying to keep your thoughts as innocent as possible, but it’s very challenging. He’s so hot and cute, and he brought you food despite being tired as fuck.

“Jesus, Bucky.”

“What, doll?”

Not doll again… You’re clearly gonna die tonight. A heart attack caused by this dark prince.

You clear your throat. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Nope, but I wanted to. Plus, you’re not the only one who’s hungry.” He unbuttons his jacket quickly, then rolls up his sleeves a little as you take the food out, placing it on the empty bag you use now as a tablecloth. “You weren’t sleeping, right?”

“No, I was chilling.” You assure him with a smile, waiting for him to join you on the bed. And he does, crossing his legs as he leans in to unwrap his burger.

“Fuck, I’m starving.” His cute, desperate tone makes you chuckle as you watch him smell the food.

He seems so comfortable around you like this, and you don’t think you’ll ever erase this image from your mind. Fuck this man!

“What?”

You giggle again. “You’re about to eat a huge burger all dressed up in Prada.” Sitting on my bed, you want to add, but you keep it to yourself. You don’t want to weird him out in any way.

“At two in the morning, with a gorgeous woman. What can I say? I love my life.”

You don’t know how to answer for a few seconds, but you’re too tempted to match his energy to pass on this opportunity. What can go bad? It’s not like a little flirting will make him think low of you since he started this... And he called you doll. You have every right to play along.

“Maybe I’m the lucky one.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows as soon as you finish your sentence, and you try to hide your smile with a napkin, pretending to clean your mouth.

“W-what?”

Oh my god, his cheeks are getting flushed! You want to congratulate yourself on this. You didn’t expect him to get flattered by a simple phrase, he’s so adorable.

“I said that maybe I’m the lucky one.” You repeat shily while staring at his hands. You notice he took off the glove he was wearing on his right hand. “I mean, I’m eating burgers with this handsome, super amazing guy, who didn’t let me starve.”

When you move your eyes to his face and see that his cheeks are even redder now, you giggle. Until he leans in and steals a few fries from you.

“Hey!” You pretend to be offended. “Give them back.” But before you can take them back, he’s shoving them in his mouth, and you both start laughing.

You spend the next twenty minutes in the same good mood: finishing eating while laughing at some set memories and making a chewing gum balloons contest like two kids before talking a little about your plans.

“You’re sure you can tell me?”

“Unless you’re planning to tell anyone,” You say jokingly. He’s in this industry, it’s not like he’s gonna release the info to the press. And he’s not in any competition with other directors. If there’s something you learned about Bucky super fast is that he’s a really healthy person. His mindset is not to be better than others and this is why he is so good at what he does.

In response, Bucky brings his thumb and forefinger together and moves them in a closing zipper gesture across his mouth.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know if I’m even gonna make it to the shortlist.” You shrug your shoulders. You know how tough it is. “Nat heard some big names are auditioning, too.”

“Like?”

“Wanda Maximoff, Jennifer Walters… Yelena Belova.”

“Well,” He gives you an encouraging smile. “You had tough competition for False God, too, but you got it, didn’t you?”

You nod, remembering how exciting and scary it was. “But I have to keep my hopes low, you know? Not all directors have your patience or your willingness to take risks.”

It’s the truth. You have no connections and your past projects —if you don’t count this one— are not good enough. But you’re gonna try anyway.

“What character?”

“I'll read for both sisters, actually. What about you?”

“I have some meetings next week, but I still don’t know if I’ll accept it. The script is kinda weak.” Bucky sighs. “Can I take off my jacket? It’s really hot.”

“Of course.” It’s really hot indeed even though you have the AC on, which is surprising. It’s raining outside and it’s February…

You shamelessly watch him undress and almost groan at the sight of him in that semi-transparent black blouse. Jesus, he looks so freaking good, it’s just unreal.

“So yeah, I’m trying to be careful about what films I’m choosing. I’ve got an offer for a show, too, but I don’t know much yet. I’d love to collaborate with Sam Wilson.”

You heard about Sam a couple of times from Nat. He’s a great producer.

“Okay, random. What’s your dream vacation right now?”

“Dream vacation?” He frowns as if he’s never heard those words before in his life.

“Yes, where would you like to go and chill at this moment?”

He thinks about it for a few seconds, biting his bottom lip all thoughtfully, probably recalling all those places he’s visited and wants to visit as well.

“Italy or Greece. Somewhere warmer at least.” He giggles, leaning in unconsciously, and he’s suddenly so, so close to you. You can’t help but stare at him as that slight movement makes his hair strands fall on his face again, and you think dramatically that you’d die if you didn’t touch him right now. Right fucking now!

And you do, but you’re so gentle he doesn’t even realize you’re touching him until you bring your other hand to his face, letting go of his hair to you stroke his cheeks.

You swear he stops breathing for a few seconds as his lips half-open, and that’s when all your second thoughts and fears go out of the window. It’s your chance to be brave and go for it. He’s not a creep, nor the type of person who would take advantage of you. And you’ve flirted a few times tonight… Plus, he can reject you anytime.

So you look at his mouth, then up, into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, maybe a no, because there’s no way he doesn’t realize what’s your intention. But instead, he moves his left hand to the back of your head, holding you tightly as he presses his lips against yours.

You close your eyes instinctively, opening your mouth as your fingers go straight into his hair. It’s the perfect length and so soft… you can pull it without any effort. The feel of his tongue and his hands on your hips make you let out a soft moan right in his mouth as he pulls you onto his lap.

Your legs part even more, and you don’t even realize you’re rubbing on one of his thighs until he groans. Your lips are crushing, and crushing, and crushing. It’s hot and magnetic… out of a dream. And he’s so good at it! You’re literally sad when you have to pull apart to breathe a little more.

“Jesus, doll.” His eyes are glowing. You can’t help yourself but touch his face again, stroking his beard, surprised that it didn’t tickle you while kissing.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to sound creepy or anything, but I wanted to do this for some time.” He outlines your lips with his thumb, and you try very hard not to open your mouth. You’re talking now, this can wait for a bit more.

“I wanted to do this for a long time, Bucky. You don’t sound like a creep.” You pause, changing your expression completely, catching him off guard. “Unless you gave me the role because you wanted to get into my pants.”

The way his lips part in shock and horror, his eyes widening, full of panic immediately makes you feel bad for faking this indignation. “No, no. I’m sorry if this is what-”

He tries to move, nervously, thinking you want space, but you interrupt him.

“Bucky, I know you.” You caress his face over and over again. His reaction itself shows what type of person he is, so your gut is not wrong. “It was a bad joke, I know you wouldn’t do this.”

He lets out a deep breath as he realizes you mean it, and his hands return to your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. “You scared me, doll. I would never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. Especially since we worked together and I’m…” He pauses, but you still realize what he wants to say.

Older. And yes, you were in the same project, but he has no power over your career. Never had, and never will. And no actress or actor that worked with him has ever said publicly or privately anything bad about him. You know he’s not a prick.

“I leaned in first.” You whisper.

“But I flirted with you first… and I am the one who kissed you.”

You snort, dropping your hands just to give him a big smooch. “You’re adorable.”

“Adorable?”

“Yes. Very adorable.”

Bucky’s hands lower from your hips to your ass without warning, making you rub on his thigh again. And it feels so good. You wonder how long it would take you to come if you started to dry hump for real.

“You’re very adorable, too. And beautiful.” His lips are touching your neck now. Barely. But the sensation of his warm breath and beard on your skin drives you absolutely crazy. You need to fuck him.

You’ve been craving this for so long… you didn’t even realize how much until now. So you can be as excited and impatient as you want.

“Bucky.” You moan his name. “I want you.”

“Hmm?”

You raise your head, desperate for more. “I want you. Now.”

“Wait, are you sure?” He tries to read any sign of discomfort or doubt in your eyes, but he finds none. You really want to do this.

“Positive.”

“Okay, but let me get this out before we do something more. Anytime you have second thoughts or you don’t feel good, please, tell me and I’ll stop. If you don’t want to go all the way in-”

You interrupt him. “You mean sex? Because I’ve just told you how much I want you.”

“I know, but things can change and I’m just making sure you know this.”

He’s serious and thoughtful, reminding you of how he was on set. He always asked if you and the rest of the cast feel okay and tried to adjust based on your level of comfort.

“The director in you jumped.” You giggle, then caress his face again. “I know you, Mr. Barnes, and I trust you. But I really need you to do something because I’m getting impatient.”

He nods, biting his lip, and you can’t refrain from leaning in and biting that lip yourself. Just a little. He moans, relaxing under you, as he realizes you’re honest, so he stops thinking and buries his head in the crook of your neck. Your hands find their way to his shoulders when you feel him starting to leave a trail of little kisses on your skin.

“I need you naked,” he whispers before pulling away so he can already start taking off your T-shirt. You raise your arms to help him and in no time, the air hits your breasts.

Bucky’s eyes immediately go right to your nipples, followed by his hands.

“Fuck.”

“We will, don’t worry.” He laughs, squeezing your left breast enough to make you whimper, but in the next second, he frowns, groaning.

“What’s wrong?” You try not to panic. Is he hurt? Did he change his mind? What’s happening?

“I-I don’t think we can do this tonight, doll.” He sounds frustrated, but you don’t understand. He seems to enjoy this very much. And he’s so hard…

You’re trying to keep your voice under control as you speak. “Did I do anything wrong?”

“No, no.” He pecks you immediately, his gloved hand stroking your hair. “Nothing like that. I just don’t have a condom on me. I didn’t expect…”

You bite your bottom lip, trying not to giggle. Good to know he’s careful, keeping it safe. “I’m clean and on the pill.” It’s worth a try to see if he’d be willing to do it with you.

A big smile spreads over his face. “I’m clean, too, promise.”

“I said I trust you, Mr. Barnes, didn’t I?” Your glance falls on his bulge without realizing it. “So let’s see you in action.”

Of course he snorts at your set semi-joke. And of course you laugh. “Funny.”

“Thanks, now let’s see you naked.” You toy with the edge of his blouse, excited to finally be able to touch his skin. You’ve wanted this for so long… But he’s so tense all of a sudden. And he’s trembling. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to see me completely naked?”

“What?” You ask surprised. What kind of question is that? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This.” He waves his left hand as if it’s supposed to mean something bad. His metal arm could never scare you. It’s a part of him, and he should not be ashamed he’s a survivor. Then he slowly takes the glove off, waiting for your reaction. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I can put it back on and I take off only my pants.”

You’ve never wanted to slap anyone more than those people who made him feel like he has to hide and feel ashamed of his arm. It’s absolutely mind-blowing how protective you feel over this man, but you don’t care if it’s crazy.

“Bucky, what the fuck? I want to see all of you. I don’t… I don’t get how this would make me uncomfortable at all,” you say softly, covering his metal hand with yours. It’s colder obviously, but it actually feels really nice.

“It’s my entire arm, doll…” He smiles unsure as he stares at your hands. “You probably know about the accident.”

“A little.” You look him in the eyes, wanting him to see you’re one hundred percent honest about what you’re gonna say. “But unless you feel uncomfortable, don’t worry about me. Or anyone else in general.”

He nods, a little unsure, but he still takes off his blouse, letting it fall on the floor. Your eyes go slowly from his abdomen all the way up to his chest, shoulders, then arm.

“Can I touch it?”

“What?” His voice is low and soft, full of surprise as he’s fidgeting. His metal fingers move exactly like his flesh ones, which makes you wonder how they’ll feel on your skin.

“Can I touch it?” You blurt out. You’re running out of patience… this is how much you want to feel him. And you really hope you’ll manage to make him more comfortable by the end of the night.

“You want to? Of course you can, but you don’t-”

“You’re joking?” You immediately brought your hand to his metal forearm and start stroking, curious. “Oh my god, the gold feels different.” He almost laughs seeing you so giggly. You’re not disgusted or bothered, you’re like a happy kid, and Bucky’s never seen anything more lovely than that expression you have. And he made that happen! “Why are you hiding this beauty, Bucky?”

He shrugs. “I don’t want to make people feel weird.”

“Screw them! What about how you feel?” You don’t even care how loud you are. You’re really upset about this. Why should he hide? Why should he be sorry and care about what strangers feel when they obviously have no decency? You know it’s rich coming from you, a person who’s been worrying about others your whole life, but he deserves more. “Think about what you want! If they are dumb enough not to like it, then they can look away.”

“It’s not just that, many pity me.” He sighs, and you quickly realize that this probably hurts him even more. It would if you were him.

“Well, they should envy you,” you say, making sure you keep eye contact. “Fuck, this is so cool, what else can it do?”

“You want to find out?” Bucky winks at you, moving his metal arm to your hip. The coldness feels so good on your skin that you can’t help yourself but moan.

“Dirty mind!”

“So you don’t?”

You giggle, aware of what he means, but you need something else right now. “Later.”

“Ihm.” He smiles mischievously, bringing his flesh arm to your pants so fast you basically fall with your back on the bed. “You have a point. Now it’s time for something else.” And just like that, you’re sitting naked and wet in your hotel room with Bucky Barnes, waiting for him to finally fuck you.

“Aren’t you gonna take these off?” You whimper, wanting to touch him through his pants, but before your fingers can make contact, you see him getting off the bed. “What?”

And then he kneels. He fucking kneels in front of you as he drags you quickly toward the edge of the bed.

“I’m gonna eat you, is that okay?” He looks feral somehow as he asks, his eyes glowing. “Please.”

You raise a little, shifting your weight on your elbows so you can see him better. He really wants this… you.

“Y-yeah. You can.” Of course, he can.

You moan as soon as you feel his lips on your calf, his beard rubbing on your skin as he leaves kisses all the way up to your thigh.

You close your eyes when his hand finds its way to your entrance.

“May I?”

You nod immediately and shiver when you feel his perfectly curled-up index flesh finger starting to move inside you. He’s trying to explore what you like while continuing to kiss and lick your inner thigh, but it’s torturously slow. And you can’t take it.

“Bucky.” It’s all you say, basically asking him to move a little faster or add another finger.

“You’re so wet.”

“Yes, and I need more. Add another finger.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but he still hears you. Yet, he doesn’t give you what you ask for.

“I like how you smell.” He mumbles as if he’s talking to himself. And maybe he is, you don’t know and you don’t have the time to ask since he takes his finger out, grabs your thighs, spreading your legs so he can fit his shoulders between them, and then puts his mouth directly on your pussy.

Just like that.

“Fuck.” Your hands basically fly to his hair as your hips lift to meet his tongue just as quickly. Not even your body anticipated the change, but it feels so good. His hands go to your ass, trying to stop you from moving, but it’s so hard. He licks so fast that you can’t control your reactions.

“You taste so fucking good.” He lets out a moan against your skin, and you’re not okay. His tongue is absolutely perfect. Especially when he moves it all the way up to your clit. You can’t believe how more comfortable your body actually gets every second he spends touching it. You really want this man.

“Bucky…” You flinch, shocked when you feel his flesh finger back inside you while he starts licking your clit faster. You grab his hair even harder, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Can I die here?” You can barely understand what he says because he speaks without taking his mouth off your clit.

“Faster.”

He moans and starts flickering his tongue in circles quicker than before while adding a second finger inside you. Then a third. And you feel so good you don’t even realize you’re basically suffocating him with your thighs.

“S-sorry.” You manage to say between whimpers, but he is too absorbed in what he’s doing to even hear you. When his fingers hit a new angle, you pull his hair so hard he gasps, yet he doesn’t stop. “Just like that. Just like that.” You repeat frenetically until you finally come with a loud moan. But Bucky doesn’t stop his movements at all, thrusting his fingers even faster as he sucks on your clit until you finish coming.

You open your eyes slowly to watch him kiss his way up to your neck, spending extra time licking your nipples, one by one. His wet beard feels actually good on your sweaty skin.

“I wanna mark you up, pretty girl. I want to… Fuck.” His lips are right below your ear as he speaks, sucking on a small spot. He doesn’t do it hard enough nor does he use his teeth to leave a hickey, but it’s still hot. Very teenager…ish from him.

“I want to fuck, too.” You laugh and you feel his smile.

“You need to sit on my face the next time.”

The next time?

“I’d suffocate you.” You choose to ignore the hole in your stomach when he moves his head back so he can look into your eyes. So blue... “Maybe hover,” you offer, but you’re not sure that’d be safe for him. He needs to breathe. And would there even be a next time?

“I feel offended. You think I can’t handle you?” He sounds offended, too, and honest. “If I can’t, then let me die happily, woman. We don’t do hover, okay?”

You snort at his words, but he seems so serious, you can’t make fun of him now. Especially after he gave you one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“Okay.”

“Good, now taste yourself.” He grins before leaning in to kiss you. You open your mouth as soon as you feel his tongue licking your bottom lip, then you drop your hands to his ass and squeeze. “Fuck,” he breaks the kiss, all breathless.

“Take them off, Bucky. I need you to fuck me.” You’ve never said these words before, but you don’t feel ashamed at all. It’s hot to be able to voice out your needs and wishes like this.

He nods twice as he gets off you to do what you told him. And in less than a minute, he’s standing naked and very hard, staring at you.

“You can tell me to stop anytime,” he reminds you as he gets back in bed.

“You look so hot. Especially with your hair all messed up.”

“Thank you.” He grabs a pillow that he places under your head before positioning himself between your already spread legs. “You’re ready for me, doll?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’m gonna make sure you’ll use that mouth for other things than mocking.”

You feel him at your entrance and fight the need to close your eyes just so you can stare at him. “For example?”

“Moaning, begging… crying out my name.” He doesn’t give you the chance to answer with a challenging remark because he’s sliding inside you. And he’s so… thick.

“Easy,” you whisper, shocked by how full you started to feel and he’s barely even halfway through. But he doesn’t seem to hear you as he thrusts even more way too quickly. “James, I said easy.”

He groans when he feels your arms wrapping around his neck and kisses your nose. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t realize.”

Baby? Fuck me… Don’t freak out!

“It’s okay.”

“I’m gonna be gentle.” He promises you, lowering his lips to yours.

“I’m not made of glass, you know? And you can start moving.” You raise your head to look at him, but he lowers his at the same time, and you end up hitting your foreheads so hard, you see stars.

“Ah.” He groans in pain.

“Is your head made of metal too?”

Bucky’s laugh is so cute and contagious that you also start laughing. But then you lift your hips, trying to create some friction and he freezes.

“You feel so fucking good.”

“Then move!” You complain and before you can do something about it again, his grip on your hips stops you.

“How do you want it?” A normal question since you’ve never done this together before, but it frustrates you.

“Just fucking move, James.” You’re close to crying at this point. This man is finally inside you and he’s holding back. “Fucking move!”

“Fuck, say that again.” He tilts his head back as he asks.

“Make me.” And then he finally gives you what you want and starts moving back and forth, trying to see what makes you moan the most. Long strokes. Deep short strokes. Fast. Slow. And you love them all in different ways because he’s really good at it. Like really good.

“James, please…” You grab him by the chin with one hand so you can kiss him properly, but also to try keeping your voice a little down for a bit. You didn’t know you can be this loud, and you’re a little embarrassed. But he seems to enjoy that way too much.

“Come on, doll, talk to me. Please... go on.” You feel his teeth on the skin of your neck while he keeps moving his hips faster and faster every time.

“Bucky.”

He sucks on the same spot, and this time, there’s no way he’s not gonna leave a hickey. But you don’t care. Not even a little.

“Yes?”

“James, please.” You close your eyes, your moans louder than before, and Bucky realizes you’re so close again.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me and it's yours.”

Holy fuck, that mouth will be the death of you.

But can you tell him? You don’t want to push him too far. “I d-don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Try me.”

“P-please, just... let's just focus on this.” You trace his back with your right hand, trying to distract him.

“Only if you tell me.”

You sigh, knowing he won’t let it go, so your fingers slide down between your bodies. You can touch your clit yourself, no need to ask him to do it. But before you can reach it, he stops your hand with his.

“Hands in my hair, doll. I can do this for you.” His voice is so hoarse and gentle, opposite to his thrusts.

“Use your other hand, Bucky,” you manage to breathe out, shocking him.

“What?”

“Please. I want- fuck, please, James, I want to come… Metal fingers, please.”

He doesn’t ask twice, thanks God, giving you exactly what you crave. And you welcome his cold touch by arching your back in pleasure and kissing his shoulder.

“I f-feel you everywhere.”

“You do? You like the way I fill you?” He barely finds the power to ask. He thrusts so fast that he’s breathless.

“Oh, fuck. Yes. Yes, Bucky, it feels so good.” The pace of his fingers is quicker too, and it’s like something electrocuted you when he lightly pinches your clit. “Bucky, don’t stop. Please, I’m coming. I’m coming...”

You don’t even realize what’s happening to you when the orgasm hits you. You’re crying and basically screaming at this point, and not even biting into his shoulder can keep your voice down. All you can feel is pleasure. So much pleasure everywhere… It’s blinding. How is it possible?

“What a good girl you are… coming all over my cock, asking nicely for my fingers.”

You can barely breathe when you come back to him. When you can open your eyes and watch him so close, too. When you can grab his ass and make him move faster.

“Come for me.” Your other hand caresses his face: forehead, cheek, beard, lips. “James.” You moan when his head lowers until his mouth can wrap around one of your nipples. And that sound is enough for him to finally let it go. You don’t expect him to be this loud, though, and you smile like a fool, stroking his hair patiently.

You’ve never had someone coming inside you before, truth be told. You had bareback sex once or twice with your first boyfriend, but he always pulled out, so this sensation is new.

“Wow.” He opens his eyes to look at you.

“Wow,” you repeat as he pulls out slowly, but it still makes you hiss. You’re still full of his come… You’re supposed to go shower or at least clean yourself with a towel, right? Maybe you can wait for a little.

But then you feel his cold hand back at your entrance all of a sudden, and two fingers slide inside.

What is he doing?

He surprises you even more as he places the metal fingers covered in come on your lips, but you open your mouth without hesitation. Bucky smiles, which warms your heart before you start sucking on his fingers properly.

After a few seconds, satisfied, Bucky takes them out and immediately moves his hand down, between your bodies.

“You're such a good girl when you want, doll.” Then he kisses you fervently, almost falling on top of you. “Eating my come… tasting us.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Speechless. Even better.” His grin is wide and playful, lighting up his face. He pecks you one more time before leaving the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

You watch him as he walks to the bathroom, and he clearly has the hottest ass you’ve ever seen. And you got to touch it.

You wonder if he wants to leave right after or maybe… You sigh.

As much as you’d want more of this, of him in general, you’re not gonna push him. Even if that was all, it was good. He’s a very thoughtful and skilled man. A perfect combination with that face.

“How are you feeling?” He’s coming back, all freshen up, with a semi-wet towel in his hand, and before you can answer, he’s spreading your legs carefully, then starts cleaning you. “Sore?”

“A little,” you whisper, surprised by his gesture, and he lifts his head.

“Going shy on me, doll?”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.” He interrupts you with a smile, taking the towel away. “Maybe next time I can clean you up differently.” And he winks.

Next time…

“What do you mean?”

He comes back, slipping into bed next to you, and licks his lips. “What do you think? Gonna let me?”

Does he mean licking? “How?”

“With my tongue, of course.”

You bite your lip not to moan at the image he’s just planted in your mind. He’s driving you crazy just like that.

“Why not? It sounds so hot. But when’s ‘next time’?”

“Whenever you want.” He smiles, his hair draping all over the pillow as he turns to the side to look at you.

You blush. “I didn’t expect it.”

“What? Me making you come like that or wanting more with you?” He pauses. “I am older than you. A bit more than a decade… But I want to remind you it’s totally okay not to desire more than sex or this. You can always tell me to fuck off.”

You immediately frown. “You’re not a creep, Bucky, we’ve already established that. The age gap is irrelevant in your case since you’re a good man with a healthy mindset, who doesn’t constantly go for younger women.”

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “To be honest, I’ve never dated anyone more than four years younger than me.”

You peck him on his red nose. “That’s what I mean. And I trust you. I’m willing to take this shot because I think it’s worth it. The press talks anyway. Whatever it will be, it will be.”

“I think it’s worth it too, doll.” You feel his lips on your forehead. “Very much. Now let's go to sleep, it’s so late.”

“Good night.” You cover both of you with the sheet.

“Good night.”

2K notes · View notes

waynes-multiverse · 16 days

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad @mrsjenniferwinchester @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @yeahmynameiscool06 @luci-wiggles @darkened-writer @mimaria420 @samanddeansannoyingsis @sarasolros

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x female reader #actress!reader #dean winchester au #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #glow au #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural

90 notes · View notes

delicrieux · 10 months

Text

—𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭, ch.3: sweet dreams, chicago

pairing—carmy berzatto x f!reader genre—drama, romance, age gap, boss/employee relationship warnings for this chapter—anxiety, (+18) masturbation, mb one (1) allusion to a blowjob, swearing, excessive use of cigarettes word count—3.6k

detailed instructions on how to fuck up your life in 30 seconds

author’s note: tremendously down bad, lonely, and socially inept? not talking abt u LOSER im talking abt carmen. my lil meow meow

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | eyvcte masterlist | < back. next >

important! some of the dialogue scenes are written as a script & dialogues that overlap are marked in [] <3

tell them

not white, gray – the exact color of cigarette ash, the red ember a reflected streak of sunlight; these walls box him in, and it’s always a surprise that space can feel so vast and so confining all at once. the plastic chair he sits on is unforgiving on his back. his foot sounds a pattern on the tiled floor to impair the silence.

he’s aware of it, of everything: his pursed lips, trembling lashes, quick blinks, slight sniffle, flitting irises, the light coat of sweat forming by his hairline. the taunt flex of his muscles; twitch of fingers that have nothing to grasp onto but each other. the tapping. pulsing in his jaw and temple. the tapping.

tell them

he tries to stare ahead, keep straight – it’s not expected of him, but he wishes he could do it. wishes he could face the silhouette sat across, too close and too far.

“well?” she prompts – a prim woman with a kind face sunken from all the miseries she had collected over the years, “how are you, carmen?”

a sharp exhale through the nose, like a humorless snort; corner of his lips pinching into a grimace that could resemble a smile, if one was generous enough, “how am i?” he repeats, “how am i?”

tell them

tell them your

“chef?”

storage closet. he keeps his hand firmly on the handle and breathes, jaw tense, head bent, illuminated in the shitty buzzing lights. the containers are organized – did it himself. methodically set cans with no spaces between them, all in neat rows. one’s a bit too close to the edge, sticking out. someone had moved it. he rubs his chin before pushing it back.

his hand falls from the handle and settles on his hip as he sighs, looks up, feels a rush of air tinted with spices and the overwhelming noise of the kitchen pierce the coveted silence of his hiding place when the door cracks open. she pokes her head in and he doesn’t look, can’t look, can’t sleep, can’t–

“you good?”

kindness is always startling, even when it’s the standard. her words hold no weight of deep inquiry, only a shallow question mark. it’s enough. he lives on scraps. “yeah, uh, thanks,” his tips his chin in her direction and his eyes flit over the crown of her head. can’t look for long; he’ll search for thank you and love you despite knowing they’re covered.

“i was just, uh, was just, needed to check,” he vaguely motions behind himself, and the knot in his throat tightens slightly, “something, s-so…” maybe she decides to take him out of his misery. maybe he’s the only one that notices he’s drowning.

“family’s up.” she informs him, offers a small smile that he thinks is pity. can’t be sure.

“yeah, yeah, o-okay, i’ll, uh, i’ll, i’ll join you in a,” the hasty spill of his words slows, quiets. he inhales, brows crinkled and eyes focused on the new streaks on the floor he’ll have to clean, “i’ll join you in a minute.”

“i’ll save you a seat.” not a proposition mentioned aimlessly and left to rot in his subconscious, but a statement. and she’ll always save a seat for him, because he’ll always be late, and in the rare occasions that he won’t, he’ll be too early. she’ll save him a seat by the table and pat the couch next to herself when the staff’ll huddle to watch a Bulls game; she’ll save a slot for him on her free day to come into his office and help sort through papers; she’ll save her hand from others so that he could hold it and she’ll save a pair lace panties the color of her eyes that’ll tear through the flower pattern because he’ll be too rough and because he’ll like the way they look on her.

she’ll save a cup that’ll shatter during one of their arguments, glue it back together. the cracks will show, and it’ll be blotched, but he’ll still use it, even if the edge’ll be chipped and he’ll cut his lip and she’ll be long gone by then.

he’s mostly himself when he joins everyone, if he even knows what that entails. tina’s explaining form to marcus, and sydney’s on her phone, and richie and neil are discussing something with too many theatrics, and the rest of the staff shares idle conversation punctuated by comfortable silence. there’s an empty spot for him, food set in a plastic container and cutlery placed trimly – must’ve been her. too even, she’s borderline about these things. he appreciates them, because he’s like that, too.

a smile eases the tension from his shoulders, if a bit. he pulls the chair back, takes a seat, and her head ticks to the side to acknowledge him. no big speech, no welcome back or you good again, just a slight curiosity that makes her teeth pull on her lip. he dares a glance that doesn’t linger.

"verdict?” he asks the table, feeling the familiar flutter of anxiety squeeze his throat.

sydney: ‘s good. real good richie: too fucking fancy [god] this the type of shit they serve up in yee-whole-fucking-new-of-the-fucking-york? her: wouldn’t expect you to recognize shit from food [fuck you] since your mouth is always full of it richie: oh ha ha [cousin] look at us folks [cousin] we got a fucking comedian with us tina: shut it [so/rry] both of you. not by the table richie: not by the fucking table, kid [fuck you] marcus: i like it

it’s kinda funny, it’s kinda familiar, it’s kinda comforting. he glances at her again, sees her holding up her knife like a sword aimed at richie on the other side of the table. they mimic one another – in movement, in tone, in smiles that are careful not to display too much. friends. carmen watched this happen in his peripherals, sometimes through the haze of cigarette smoke. observed the pointed jabs and nudges that were harder each time as if they were competing who could knock the other off of their feet first. stupid, amusing, the nascence of a friendship.

whatever. it’s not that, it’s just, just that carmen’s the way he is and someone could roll their eyes at him and kill and sydney, well, he got along with sydney instantly – she came at a confusing fucking time, a breath of fresh air, and really, for a while, he only had her to help him navigate the clusterfuck of a dynamic of his brother’s staff. she was new, he was new, and it was natural they stuck together to survive the nuclear winter of a chicagoan kitchen. till he was approved as one of them, and she was, too, but, and it’s nothing, it’s dumb, fucking idiotic, it’s like he’s six again all of a sudden and no one wants to play ball with him in the fucking playground.

he’s not even left out, and he still feels like he’s somehow forbidden to join, even if he doesn’t want to, even if he doesn’t know what to say. as if he’d break some sacred law and inspire a drastic butterfly affect that would ripple into something abhorrent. the other shoe. there’s no first one and he’s already waiting for the drop.

“cousin,” richie calls, “cousin, she’s trying to fucking murk me. pretty sure that violates some sorta fine print.”

“better sleep with one eye open in that case.” carmy mumbles, a faint smile pulling on the corner of his lips as he watches the exchange briefly before he returns to the food. melts in his mouth. holds a sweet, syrupy tang, and, fuck, this is noma, this has fucking noma written all over it, even the cinnamon zest blended with orange peel.

no noma on her resume; dad must’ve taught her, then. how to blend and cook all of this shit to make the chicken taste like butter. probably needed to scour the whole kitchen for leftover ingredients, open a few rusted drawers for pipettes to measure lemon drops. stay up again prepping. filming. not sleeping. don’t look.

needlessly complicated and missing some parsley. coincidentally, they ran out of it this morning.

he looks at her because she’s not looking at him and for a moment he takes in her profile – the slope of her nose and the dip leading to her cupid’s bow. “‘s good.” he says after a short pause, and as soon as she turns in his direction he’s back to his food. the taste, this time, is compounded by added discomfort, “where’d you learn this from, anyway? there are recipe?”

“my dad. sorta,” she explains, “he’s also a chef. and he used to make it for me when i came to visit, soooooo, since it was my first time cooking family ‘n all…i thought, why not? y’know? just to upset richie.”

“heard that, kid.”

he snorts, leaning back into his chair, head dipped and container held in hand. glances at her from under his lashes, and maybe direct eye contact is not as scary when he wants her to be looking back. that small smile of his is pulls on his lips again, “‘s good.” he repeats.

“you like it?” her voice can be soft, and so can her features.

“i like it,” he admits, “thank you, chef.”

she smiles and it’s like a fucking firework.

he tries not to look too hard, scared what he might find there. metronome. dull, almost, like the beating of his heart in his chest, yet it pulses through him, from the back of his head all the way to his feet. the tapping.

tell them

he rubs his faces with his hands, leans forward, as if the words are physically trying to get out. doesn’t want to say it; doesn’t want to admit that he can’t dress for the weather and that he’s wearing a gray woolen sweater which blends into these walls, that he blends in, that he’s invisible.

“i’ve, uh,” pinches the bridge of his nose, wanes the upcoming headache – too many cigarettes and not enough sleep, “i’ve been going through somethin’.”

like her pictures on a late monday night fresh out of the shower. the phone light catches damp hair falling in ringlets. the towel is still slung around his shoulders – white, clean, he’s done his laundry, it’s a fucking miracle. it was a notification that distracted him mid-way putting on a t-shirt, was like a beacon in the dark on his bedside table. bare feet padded to grasp it and here he stands, gaping like a fucking idiot with nothing but boxers on and cold water dripping down his back.

wasn’t supposed to look. made a promise, swore it in the mirror staring into clear blue eyes that held nothing. wasn’t his intention, either, it just happened. everything seems to just happen to him. she just seem to text him at 1 in the morning the recipe from a few days back, and he just seems to find her profile again because he just wants to look. no further reason. she just seems to follow him and he just seems to pretend not to notice because he’s not very good at this, he’s not really good at anything.

and there she is, confined in a little electronic device held in his hand, looking at the camera, looking at him, and he’s not really sure what to do with himself. text back, likely, but he can’t think of a response – thank you? thanks? thumbs up emoji? chef emoji? just to mix it up a bit. the mattress dips when he sits on the bed. where the fuck are his cigarettes?

never too far, and the lighter isn’t, either, so he stands, and his phone is still in his hand like the thing is fucking glued to it, and he cracks the window open to let the summer night in. chicago doesn’t sleep, and neither does she, it seems, but he doesn’t, either, and when his teeth have something to bite onto he feels like he found an anchor.

thank you and love you are objectively interesting detonators, but there are other rare gems. where she’s smiling. look taken off-guard and never by her personally, always by someone else: hugging a bottle in the midnight new york vista, nursing a to-go cappuccino by the bodega too early in the morning, holding up a plastic puka shell necklace in the backdrop of a souvenir shop somewhere in yucatan. hugging her mother wearing a tracksuit while the former’s poised in a neat blazer. they look similar. carmen looks like his mother, too.

she’s more approachable when her eyes crinkle and cheeks apple and lips stretch to reveal a crescent line in the corner. pretty. real pretty. too pretty. maybe that’s why he doesn’t know what to say. maybe she doesn’t expect him to say anything. maybe that’s why she sent the message.

‘s not fair. he knows too much about her. knows her dad’s a renowned chef and her mother’s a business exec with a penthouse in brooklyn; knows she gets her tattoos in-house, on the couch, from some low-key junkie-looking artist that always wears a beanie; knows she worked in an upscale restaurant in wallstreet. chef whites, neat, trimmed, fitting – nothing he can offer in his fucked joint. fuck is she doing in chicago, anyway? spent last summer backpacking across europe with a distinctly new york-looking art school dropouts that wore the latest sneakers and tiffany necklaces. rich kids, rich kid, what she gets now was likely her daily allowance.

all of that just because he’s noisy. just because he’s curious. just because she’s pretty and he’s too scared to actually talk to her.

shouldn’t talk to her about anything anyway. too awkward – can hardly form a coherent sentence without ripping his hair out in the first place. he’s her boss, she’d think he’s a fucking weirdo if she knew how much he had gathered about her already. just from looking. does sydney know? does richie know? that would be fucked. oddly insulting, even. but since carmen hasn’t heard richie calling her a spoiled brat yet, he supposes it’s safe to assume this information hasn’t reached him yet.

parasocial as shit. he feels on the verge of a panic attack by the way his heart is hammering in his chest. maybe it’s the 5th cigarette. maybe it’s because he’s been sleep deprived. maybe it’s because looking at her makes him lonely and this is fucked and just put the fucking phone down, carmen.

she's really hot, though. but he can’t say so, not out loud. not right now. not here. not in front of the bed, where the mattress sags when he sits, or in the window, where the wind rattles the glass ringing of common sense.

‘thanks for the recipe’ is a good start, ‘cool tats by the way’ is definitely a line that has crossed his mind, but can’t text that, either. too personal. too easy. too close. fuck did he look at them anyway, too busy staring at her tits. fuck.

she’d think he’s a creep because somehow, in the divine comedy of his life, he’d let it slip somehow, because he’s stupid. because thank you and love you slap at him on odd hours during the day. because he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

feels like he’s a teen again and a girl from school sent him her homework to copy. only the girl in a hot rich kid from nyc that works in his restaurant and is so far out of his league that she’s in a different fucking orbit.

the mattress dips again. he closes his eyes, exhales slowly, rubs his face with his free hand. can’t stop thinking. can’t stop looking. staring. wanting. get a fucking hold of yourself. doesn’t want to. too tired. too fucked. too alone.

she’s so pretty.

so smart.

so fucking pretty.

what is he doing? what the fuck is he doing?

he tries to swallow, but it feels like there's sand in his throat. can't think straight, every corner leads to her anyway in a comical gotcha moment. can't go back. can't go forward. can't do anything but sit here, stare at the phone, think the last threads of his fizzling mind will conceive a reply.

say something. say something.

she's so fucking pretty and his dick is so fucking hard.

inhales again, this time slowly. feels the first tremors of an erection ignored, the pulse in his neck, in his wrists.

his heart is pounding and he wants her to look at him, wants to look at her, wants to feel her touch him, wants to show her how much he wants her.

"fucking christ," he can hear the breathless crack in his voice. feel it, taste it.

his face burns and his hair falls over his forehead, already drying. there's sweat on his brow and a lump in his throat from the steady rise of panic, anticipation, desperation, whateverthefuck. the blood in his veins pounds through his chest – he can feel the vibration in his bones, and god, god god god, he’s so fucking horny.

can't move. can't breathe. can't think. can't stand being alone. can't stand the silence. can't stand not doing anything and can’t stand being like this because he’s not supposed to. not allowed, breach of contract, jesus, who does this shit in their spare time? a lot of people, probably, but carmen wouldn’t know.

"fuck."

he wants to close his eyes because she’s so cold on the screen but so warm in his mind. can’t do that. can't stop palming dick over his boxers, either – wants to pull them down, but that would mean looking at himself, so he stares at her picture instead.

he feels like a teenager again, vaguely wants to throw up. can't believe how hard he is. he's not supposed to be like this. this isn't going to end well.

he knows he's gonna fuck this up because he's already fucking it up. can't stop staring at her. can't stop touching himself. can't stop thinking about what she'd do if she knew he was sitting here ready to jerk off to her.

she'd probably freak the fuck out, and she'd have every right to. that doesn't stop that wandering hand of his from dipping below the elastic band anyway.

his breath scratches at his throat, stuck there as he feels his hand brush something warm. glances down, sees his middle finger pressing against the swollen tip. looks back at the phone, sees her smile, the hint of her teeth; his cock twitches at the sight of her like some deranged pavlovian response. his fingers curl around his shaft and go down in a nice, long stroke.

"fuck me," he hisses. eyes squeeze shut and hips push forward and head rolls back to release a small groan.

it's a slow slide of a rough palm, with just enough pressure to cause shivers. he thinks of her lips wrapped around his him. the way her tongue would tease him. the way her hair would tickle his thighs.

"so pretty," he breathes, but the words are lost in the rhythm of his hand, "fuck, sorry."

fingers and palm slide over the sensitive head, each pass adding more pressure until his hips buck and it feels like someone punched him in the gut and he sucks in a breath, the sound coming out more like a moan; squeeze, tighter this time, and he groans louder, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. teeth clamp down on his lower lip and all the oxygen in his lungs leaves with that.

the hand with the hand pierced by a kitchen knife pumps faster, coating the creases and veins in warm, sticky pre-cum leaking from the tip and leaving a stain on his boxers. he's breathing heavily, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that matches the throbbing of his cock.

he's so close already. so close he feels like he might actually lose his mind if he doesn't come soon.

"hm, fuck," he breathes out, eyes squeezing shut and fist tightening around the shaft as his hips jerk forward to meet the movement.

everything is swimming and spinning in the liquid dark around him, all the sensations coiled up into one chaotic bundle that's threatening to overwhelm him.

"yes," can't be his voice, can it? too raw, too desperate, too loud.

fist tightens even more and the throbbing is too much. feels like something is trying to get out of his body, like it's going to burst through his skin.

"oh fuck. oh fuck, oh fuck—"

everything is happening at once. everything is mounting to a small cry of her name.

he comes. coughs and huffs, head tipping back and hand still pumping. there's a low groan coming from his chest that sounds like it originated from some other person entirely.

then, it stills. his back hits the bed and he tries to gulp down air that stutters down his throat, the phone bouncing on the mattress beside him. the motions ripple in his spine, in tensed muscles that’ve gone lax. calm. outside the window, a siren howls first, then a dog.

he’s spent. feels good. cold air bites skin coated in sweat, like ice melting in the bed of a warm palm. “fuck.”

but the reality of the situation rips through the haze just as quick, and ignited by a sudden fucking unbearable anger, he grabs his phone and throws it across the room, “FUCK.”

ch.4: normal people

tags <3 @rexorangecouny - @astridyoo15 - @elliesbabygirl - @fortisfilia - @diorrfairy - @frequentnosebleeder - @eddiemunsonreader

more notes: sum fun lil gemmie gems for my narrative lovin girlies in chat 1. timeline is worky asf, things flowing in an out perception - imagine it like moving frames of the show 2. carmy says “’s good” whilst he admires her silently - is he referring to her or the food? 3. who text their boss at 1am? rich kid explain 4. the swearing increases the more he’s distressed 5. major virgin alert, can u tell? 6. this is the only chapter so far where ive used caps lock

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy x reader #the bear imagine #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader #we need the extended version directors cut live commentary with bloopers for the second half of this fic

365 notes · View notes