Derek Danforth X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Brat Tamer

[Derek Danforth x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: With every brat in the universe, there is always one who can put them in their place. In the case of the president’s spoiled son, this case is no different.

WC: 1555

Category: Fluff, Comfort

I need some fluff for this man, so I made some fluff for this man 😤

『••✎••』

The second you heard the frustrated yell through the walls of the house, you knew it was going to be a rough day, not for the Danforth's, but for you.

Derek was always an interesting one, though his parents tried to make him blend in with the crowd. He was the epitome of a rich kid. And like many rich kids, he was a brat. However, the brattiness didn't come from his parents spoiling him. He had a natural sense of entitlement, but his parents never fueled the fire. If anything, they tried to keep him in line, but their methods were... well...ineffective.

They had money, which meant they could do anything to keep their son out of trouble. They paid off teachers, bribed the local law enforcement, and made sure everyone looked the other way when it came to Derek's behavior. But when his father unfortunately passed, and his mother became preoccupied with her own work, you were like an angel sent down from heaven in Wallace's eyes when Derek introduced you.

You didn't put up with his shit, and you weren't afraid to tell him off. It's why, out of all the girls fawning over him, he chose you. He picked you. The most headstrong, assertive girl he could find because you were exactly what he needed. And it wasn't like you were uninterested. You were always a sucker for a good romance, and Derek was the textbook definition of a tall (he's not, but he promises he's at least 5'7), dashingly handsome, brooding young man.

But as much as you cared about him, there were moments when you just wanted to throttle him, like now.

"I thought you said you could handle it!" Derek's voice boomed when you opened the office door. You found him in his usual spot, in front of the window, the phone pressed to his ear, his eyes trained on the pool where a few maids were doing laundry. "And here you are... doing everything BUT handling it."

He listened to whoever was on the other line for a few moments, then scoffed, "It's one fucking guy! How can he be giving you so much trouble?"

When his eyes locked onto yours, you raised your eyebrows expectantly. He motioned for you to come inside, then rolled his eyes, "No, no... just shut the fuck up for a minute. Let me think."

You took a seat in one of the plush armchairs and watched him pace around the room, still on the phone. It was a sight that should've been amusing, but instead, it was exhausting. It was too early to deal with Derek's temper.

He did look particularly stressed today, though. You knew something was off the moment you woke up to an empty bed. Very uncommon. Usually, Derek liked to sleep in. He was a late sleeper, and if he was forced out of bed before noon, he was a grouch.

But that morning, the bed was empty, pajamas were on the floor, and there was a half-empty mug of coffee on the bedside table. It was a rare occurrence, and it made you uneasy.

And now that you found him like this, you knew something was up.

"Are you going to hang up or what?" you finally asked after a few more minutes of watching him pace around the room. "Or am I just supposed to sit here and watch you stomp a hole into the floor?"

He ignored your comment and continued his conversation, though it was clear he wasn't paying attention. "Yeah...no, it's fine. Do whatever the fuck you want. It's not like this is important or anything." He pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call. He tossed it onto the desk and dropped into the seat across from you.

"I pity you." You said. "That must've been a very stressful phone call."

"Oh, fuck you too."

You had to give it to him. He could always pick up on your sarcasm. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He crossed his arms and turned his head to look out the window.

"Bullshit." You rolled your eyes, "I know when something's up. Now spill. What's wrong?"

He groaned, "Nothing, it's just this random guy keeps fucking with me and the business. He's a fucking nuisance, and now I'm forced to deal with him. It's ridiculous."

"Oh, really?" you leaned forward, "So it's nothing, then? Just a little setback of you being forced to do your actual job?"

He looked at you like you were the devil. He could tell you weren't going to stop, and he didn't have the energy to fight. So he gave in, "Look, it's this guy, okay? I don't know who he is or what his deal is, but he's a fucking thorn in my side. Mickey says he's like... a bee lover or some shit. I don't know what the fuck he's talking about, but it's annoying."

"Bee lover?" You asked, "As in, a beekeeper? or a Vanessa Bloome fanatic?"

If looks could kill, the glare he gave you would've left you in a puddle of blood, but there was also a little twinkle of amusement in his eye, "Can you not reference that fucking animated movie for a single fucking second?"

"Not likely," You said with a smile, "Now, can we please move on from the random bee thing and get back to you and I?"

"There is no 'you and I," he said, "I have a problem. I was handling it. You have no place in this."

"Well, I do now," you said. You got up from your seat and made your way over to his chair. "You woke me up this morning. You have a problem, and I'm the only one who can help."

He shook his head, "Fuck off. I can handle this."

"Really?" you challenged him, "Because I'm pretty sure I can handle it better than you."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me yourself, coward," you joked and ran your hands over his shoulders. It is quite hilarious how quickly his attitude changed. A few gentle touches and he was like a putty, caving beneath your fingertips.

Even his mother was shocked. You were the first person to ever have a positive effect on Derek's behavior. Usually, he would push anyone who touched him away, and if he liked them, he was even rougher.

But with you, it was a different story. He loved it when you touched him. He melted in your hands, groaned when they massaged the knots out of his neck and purred when they brushed his hair back. He loved it, and it was the ultimate power play.

"We're not talking about this." he sighed, "It's a stupid idea. Besides, I need you to—"

"What do you need me to do?" You asked. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, then his jaw.

He hummed and reached a hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you down to meet him for a proper kiss. When you parted, he was looking at you with dark eyes, "You have no idea how much I fucking love you."

"I have an idea," you said, "But it's always nice to hear you say it."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off," he said. He pulled you in for another kiss, this time letting his tongue trace along your bottom lip. He tasted like coffee, the spoiled brat kind that had an absurd amount of sugar in it and was probably worth more than a kidney. It was a taste that grew on you, just like the man.

You straddled his waist and wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close while you deepened the kiss. His hands roamed down your body, resting on your hips, his thumbs running over the exposed skin of your midriff.

"How about some pancakes for our Mr. Problem Solver, hm?" you offered when you parted, "You know, a good ol' breakfast to help start your day."

He scoffed and kissed the corner of your lips, "What are you? My maid?"

"With how you act? It would be more appropriate to call me your mom," you teased.

"Okay, that's gross."

You chuckled and kissed his forehead, "So is your obsession with that… well, you know. Still, I endure."

He groaned and pushed you off his lap, "Don't remind me."

"Come on, you have a big day ahead of you." You took his hand and pulled him up, leading him out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen, "Let's go solve some problems, starting with the missing syrup."

He let you pull him along, not even bothering to make a snide remark.

It was one of the many things you loved about him. No matter how much he complained, he would let you have your way. It was an odd feeling, having someone who was so used to getting their way to bend to your will. But he never seemed to mind, especially not when you made it worthwhile.

In fact, you'd argue he enjoyed it. You enjoyed it. The thrill of being able to order him around, to have him follow every one of your commands, was invigorating. And Derek, the stubborn man that he was, found comfort in someone telling him what to do.

It was a match made in heaven.

High On You

Derek Danforth x GN!AFAB!Reader

Summary: You read over the statistics and analytics for Derek’s company, as he requested. Except, while you do this, you’re on his bed, lower half of your body exposed as he does lines of cocaine on your thigh—then he eats you out.

WC: 1.2k

Content: 18+ smut, MDNI, derek danforth x reader (gn!afab!reader), oral (v!receiving), no spoilers for The Beekeeper, brief (yet detailed) cocaine/drug use, graphic depictions of sex and drugs (this is probably the filthiest thing i ever wrote on here), cursing

(A/n: I couldn’t wait to write it, so here !! Haven’t watched the movie yet, but if I notice that there’s anything incorrect here once I do, I’ll go back and change it ! I’m so sorry to my AMAB readers and/or the AFAB readers who get dysphoria from this type of writing !! You can check out my other smuts that aren’t genital-specific !! Love you all!! And thanks to everyone for your support !! Anyways, I think that Derek doing coke on the reader is such a Derek thing to do.)

Tags: @thehermitsaltar @coriolanussnowswife @moonlight-rosevine @harrysflorist @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @joshhutchersons-slut

-

Your rich boyfriend, Derek Danforth, asked you to read over the statistics and analytics of his phishing center, informing him how much money he’s earned in the past week.

Except it wasn’t a very professional or orderly way.

You laid on his bed, looking at the information on your phone, reading how much millions were gained on Thursday, while your entire lower body was naked. You two were always a very intimate couple, so this wasn’t new or had invoked any feelings of diffidence, as your legs were spread out across the mattress.

He snorted a line of cocaine, pressing down on one of his nostrils to inhale the drug after spilling the white powder onto your thigh and scraping it into several thin lines using one of his credit cards. It felt tingly, to have him do this on your thigh, his head ever so close to your cunt. While this occurred, his free hand was resting on your other bare thigh.

He let out an ecstatic groan afterward, and then looked at you as his high rushed in. “What—What’d you say again, baby?”

You chuckle softly at his mannerisms. “I said that in total, for Thursday at least, UDG obtained, like, over six fucking million,” you reply, looking over the statistics on your phone again. “Business is booming.”

Derek smirked as he was satisfied to hear the news. “Damn fuckin’ right it is.”

His body slightly tensed up as he quickly inhaled another white line on your thigh through his nostril, briefly rubbing his nose afterwards. The sharp inhale caused him to feel a surge of euphoria throughout his body as the drugs entered his system. His eyes closed in pleasure, then opened, pupils slightly dilated.

You watched him do this, taking a short drag of your cigarette. “Last week’s average was five point two million dollars,” you add, observing him as he corrected the final line with the card, straightening it out onto your thigh.

“So what was the total earned in that week?” He inquired as your cigarette remained hanging from your mouth.

“Thirty-six million dollars, baby,” you answer proudly while he inhales the last line quite harshly, and heard him whoop as he gained exhilaration from both the drug and the statistics.

You finally place your phone down on the night stand to give full attention to your boyfriend. You bring your hand to his hair, tangling his soft, light curls in your fingers. “Congratulations,” you praise gently, watching Derek close his eyes in pleasure, leaving a small kiss on your thigh.

He placed the package of coke on the night stand and adjusted himself on the bed between your legs. He continued to leave soft kisses on your thigh, gradually trailing towards your untouched pussy.

“Mm, I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?” He observed, demonstrating a hint of pity. “Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he huffs, pulling your hips closer to his face as he finally licked up your cunt in an animalistic fashion.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers still in his hair, and you grab the cigarette out of your mouth, immediately putting it out on the ashtray.

Derek’s warm tongue caressed along your folds exuberantly, moving up and down as your breath hitched. He gripped your thighs tightly, pushing his face even further in your cunt. You let out a gasp—almost a moan—as he flicked your clit with his tongue, stimulating the sensitive nub which elicited even more intense sounds from your mouth.

“O-oh, fuck, Derek!” You moaned as you felt him suck at your clit, closing his lips around it while lightly moving his hands up and down from your thighs to your sensitive hips, thumb pushing down on your pelvic bone for a brief moment, causing more pleasure within you. “S-so good, love… Fuck, yes.”

He lapped at your dripping pussy once more, threatening to poke inside each time his tongue ran over your entrance. He incessantly licked at you, so desperately and lustfully, occasionally tugging at your flesh between his soft lips.

“Taste s’fucking good,” he mutters between his rapid licks, “S’fucking good for me Y/n…” He rubbed off some leftover powder on your thigh, messily inhaling it through his nose for enhanced stimulus.

Your thighs jolting as you let out a high-pitched whine once you felt his tongue finally push inside your wet, aching cunt. He was eating you out as if you were forbidden fruit, because he would rather die than never be able to taste you. Pleasing to the eye, he really couldn’t help it. He was practically making out with your pussy, exploring your walls with his generous tongue.

Your legs closed around his head and you brought both of your hands to his hair, tugging his curls, which gets a muffled groan out of him, the vibration causing you to feel even more pleasure. Your breath hitched and you choked out a moan as you felt his nose bumping against your clit as he ate you out. Derek felt so hazy and foggy from his high, and because everything was so sensitive for him, he could practically cum untouched from how much arousal he gained from pleasing you. Not only was he high on cocaine, but he was also high on your taste, and hearing you moan was his ultimate addiction.

“Sh-shit, Derek…” Your head turned to the side tiredly, eyes threatening to close as you felt overwhelmed with all the stimulation. Derek hooked one of his arms around your thigh so he could place his hand warmly on your stomach, below your belly button yet over your cunt, now focusing more on his precision.

You felt yourself closer to your orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing onto you each second. Derek slipped his tongue out, just to spread your pussy lips apart with his fingers, and then lap his tongue against your cunt again sloppily, making your thighs twitch, incoherent whimpers escaping your mouth. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking hot…” he mumbles.

You let out a high-pitched moan as his long, slender middle finger inserted into you effortlessly, quick, deep thrusts provoking wet, vulgar squelches while he simultaneously sucked your clit again. He pulled out his finger smoothly, abrasively running it between your soaked folds, then pushed it back in deeply.

“G-God! Fuck!” You whined, back arching as you succumbed to his touch. Abruptly, he spit on your cunt, lapped his tongue on you, switching constantly between your folds and your clit. You felt a knot in your stomach, in which Derek’s free hand had still remained resting on it. His licks were fast and rough, and you felt yourself being driven over the edge. “G—Fuck, Derek, b-baby, I-I’m—”

“That’s it, that’s it, baby,” he encouraged softly in between licks. He looked at you hungrily with his deep brown eyes, “Cum for me.”

The second you heard his command, you came hard around his finger, moaning his name loudly as he slipped it out to desperately taste your juices, him groaning in your cunt. You whimpered and shuddered uncontrollably, his insistent touch bringing you to overstimulation. He kissed it a few times, then brought himself up from the mattress to make you with you, lips moving with yours as it allowed you to taste yourself.

“Fucking love you,” he muttered in the kiss. “So good for me, Y/n, fuck.” He held you in his arms softly, being as gentle as he could, rubbing your arms up and down comfortingly. The room smelled like sex, as the atmosphere consisted of only your deep breaths and the soft, wet smacking of your kisses.

“Fuck,” you panted, and the corner of your lips curled into a relieved smile until you kissed him again. “I love you too.”

Soft Spot

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: After a long, frustrating day of work, Derek comes back home to you for comfort. Being the tough, asshole-ish, and reckless man he was on the outside, he easily melts into you with sweetness and submission. After all, he had such a soft spot for you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content: fluff, gender neutral reader, cuddling, cursing, reader babying Derek, reader feeding him cherries (putting their fingers in his mouth, wow) but it’s not sexual (maybe only slightly suggestive), reader and Derek are engaged already, basically tooth-rotting fluff and intimacy, short but sweet, inspired by a scene from S02E06 of The Bear

-

You were laying on the mattress in the bedroom that you and Derek shared, looking down at your phone while eating cherries from the nightstand. There was a sweet domesticity to it—you in your pajamas, snuggled up in bed, waiting for your boyfriend (or rather, fiancé) to come back home.

Derek had a long, exhausting day of work. He thought today was going to be like every other day, relaxed and held back, but instead, he had to deal with so much bullshit from Danforth Enterprises, including international affairs and money complications. And his employees made things even worse, their incompetence driving him insane until every sentence he spoke had at least one “fuck” in it. And not only that, but UDG and Nine Star were experiencing setbacks and issues that could have probably been easily fixed if it wasn’t for his idiotic employees. After an entire day of yelling at his absentminded workers with hostility, he was so desperate to just come home to you.

It was only until the evening when you finally saw Derek in the doorway of the room, letting out an exasperated sigh. He looked… rough, to say the least, despite the fact he was wearing a fancy and highly expensive black suit. He was still very attractive, of course, especially in that suit, but right now he just looked utterly exhausted. You turned off your phone, placing it face down on the nightstand to give him your full attention.

“Hey, my love,” you coo softly, smiling up at him.

“Hey, babe,” he mumbles tiredly, slowly walking towards you.

“Rough day?”

“Yeah.”

“Come here,” you grin, grabbing him by his black necktie to bring his lips to yours, sharing a brief, soft kiss. Then he lazily went into bed, melting into your arms with his head buried in your neck. He melted into you entirely. He felt comforted and warm in your embrace, the tension in his muscles gradually dissipating.

“They didn’t keep you too long, did they?” You ask gently, holding him closely as you caress his hair.

“They totally did, Y/n. Today was a fucking mess,” he huffs, yet already too relaxed to even raise his voice. “I swear, baby, these guys are so fucking incompetent and can’t do their goddamn jobs. Those fucks give me such a migraine.”

You continue to stroke his hair and then his face. “Aww, my poor baby,” you coo soothingly. Derek loved all of it, leaning into your touch and just being limp in your arms. However, he would shoot anyone else who witnessed him in this state. “Westwyld just hired a whole bunch of idiots. He’s even an idiot himself. It’s none of your fault, my love.”

He sighs softly, nuzzling into your neck further. “I know,” he mumbles dismissively. “But it’s just so fucking frustrating because I feel like I always have to do everything ‘cause they keep fucking things up. Like, what are we even paying them for if they can’t do their fucking job?”

You chuckle under your breath. “I know, honey, I know,” you whisper. “Well, that’s why you’re the CEO, yeah? To keep everything, you know, all balanced and orderly?” He hummed in understanding. You look over to the nightstand, then grabbed a cherry from the box. Derek noticed this action and pulled his head out from your neck, now sitting up against the bed frame. You then guided the small, red fruit to his lips. “Open,” you order in a gentle voice.

You watched him open his mouth and you placed the cherry in, letting the stem rip off, placing it in a bowl for stems and pits. He began to chew it slowly, indulging in the sweet and juicy sensation in his mouth while also enjoying the fact that you were feeding him. The cherry tasted different than any others he had tried, all sweet with no bitter or even slightly tart aftertaste. “Mm, these are good, where did you get these?” He asked with a mouthful of cherry flesh, his speech slightly muffled.

“Hm, it was a shipment from Japan,” you answer. “I think they’re, like, the most expensive cherries in the world… Open,” you say again, letting your fingers enter his mouth to grab the pit, placing the seed in the bowl on the nightstand. In the few seconds your fingers were in his mouth, it was arousing and suggestive, to say the least. But all you wanted to do right now was to take care of him with the least amount of energy possible. If he was fatigued, then you should let him rest.

“I can’t believe I’m going to marry you,” he murmurs, his eyes flickering down to his shiny silver engagement ring.

“And I can’t believe I’m marrying you, my love,” you chuckle, kissing his cheek, reaching over to the nightstand to grab another cherry. His lips parted, letting you place it in his mouth, eating it contently. “How did your day go, baby? Like, before everything went to shit. Tell me all the good.”

After he ate most of the cherry’s flesh, he let your fingers in his mouth once more, removing the pit and placing it in the bowl. There was something so curiously intimate about this moment, feeding him, removing the pit for him, and holding him close.

“Had my usual coffee,” he answers quietly.

“Oh yeah? Your flat white with oat milk?”

“And extra shot of espresso—”

“—extra espresso, yes,” you giggle, stroking his hair once more. “How much espresso does one need? Like, flat whites are meant to have a higher espresso-to-milk ratio, yet you still want more.”

He pouted, looking at you from the side. “But it’s good.”

“Do you even need to say ‘extra shot of espresso’? Like, as a flat white, I’m pretty sure they’re adding more espresso than, say, a latte,” you grin.

“I know, but I want more than usual, like, more than a flat white,” he reasons, yet his delivery suggesting that he was lying.

“Wow. You’re just greedy, aren’t you?”

“You know me,” he mumbles.

“You don’t know the difference, do you? Is that why you always ask for an extra shot, just to make sure?” You say, calling him out.

He just pouts silently at your teasing, which only amused your further. “You’re a dork,” you giggle.

“Meanie.”

“You’re the meanie. You never answered my call,” you utter. It was true. He was too caught up with work that he didn’t even know you called him up at that time.

“Oh, shit…” he sighs. “I’m sorry, babe. I was just so busy today, I totally forgot to get back to you.”

You frown. “Hey, no, don’t—don’t apologize, I was just teasing. I know how busy you were today and I’m sorry that you were surrounded by idiots. You’re okay.”

“Okay.”

For one last time, you grab a cherry, guiding it into his mouth. You wait for him to chew it until you’d take the pit out from his mouth. You wipe some of the fruit’s juice off the corner of his lips, but suddenly, his mouth welcomes in your fingers once more, sucking lightly on your fingertips before you pulled them away to kiss his lips passionately. It was a patient, loving kiss, your lips moving slowly with his as you savored the cherry taste on him.

You had him in an embrace in one arm and the other was occupied by cupping his face gently. Your touch was tender, making him feel comforted and warm. You looked closely at his face, absorbing all of the details. You could see the faint freckles spread across his nose and cheeks. He was so close to you. And he was beautiful.

“Hi,” you whisper, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Hi,” he whispers back.

“You’re so cute,” you comment.

You caress the side of his face as he enjoyed feeling your soft palm and fingertips graze his cheek. His eyes closed sleepily, completely infatuated with your soothing touch and the way you encompassed his body. You pressed a kiss on the top of his head. And again. And again.

He felt small.

Like, smaller than usual.

He was completely vulnerable with you and it was freeing. This was a part of him that nobody else but you knew about. He could curse and be a privileged, arrogant dickhead whenever he pleased, but at the end of the day, he is always succumbing to your embrace and warmth. He was indisputably smitten with you—infatuated, even. You were the only person he could be fragile around.

“You know, your mom is always on my ass about you,” you chuckle, pressing two soft kisses on the top of his head as you pet his curls.

“Huh? I thought she liked y—”

“No, no, it’s not like that. She just asks me about you all the time. How you’re doing and everything.”

“Oh.”

“I think it’s because she knows you only open up to me,” you point out.

“Yeah, well… She’s been busy her whole life. I’ve never gotten the time to… You know… Actually have a full, authentic conversation with her.”

You kiss the top of his head once more, then let your head rest on it. “Mommy issues?”

He hums in response.

“Does the fact that she and Westwyld having some weird thing—in the past, at least—also affect your relationship with her?” You ask curiously.

“Well, sort of. I don’t know, he always acts—”

“He tries to act like a dad to you, yeah,” you giggle.

There was a silent pause as you two just cuddled each other, Derek, especially, feeling safe in your arms.

“Stop investing in crypto,” you murmur, stroking his hair.

“Mm, stop crushing my dreams,” he grumbles wearily.

“Your ‘dreams’ would get us broke if you weren’t already a billionaire.”

He chuckles and you proceed to caress him gently, observing him silently.

“S’it too hot, my love?” You inquire gently, beginning to help him remove his tie and then his blazer once he nodded. “Better?” He hummed as you placed the clothes at the end of the bed and went back to cuddling him.

He was closer than before, laying down beside you with his face buried into your neck. He held onto your waist tightly as if you’d disappear any second, and your arms wrapped around him generously. You press a soft kiss to his forehead and hold him warmly.

“You’re going to be my husband…” you whisper sweetly, kissing the top of his head once more.

“Mm, you’re going to be my spouse…” he mirrors.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So, so much.” Derek mutters sleepily, melting into your touch.

You rubbed his back, letting your head rest against his. Until finally, after peppering his face and head with kisses, you two fell asleep in each other’s arms, feeling safe and secure.

Ya Ne Prava

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: Because everyone seemed to fail him, Derek Danforth decided to call you up to kill Mr. Clay. You are an assassin that had an intimate, yet complicated relationship with Derek in the past, sharing a bittersweet history together. You realize that you’re going against a Beekeeper, and felt obligated to spend one last night with your old lover, as this mission doesn’t guarantee your survival. But you’d do anything for him—even if it meant dying for him.

WC: 4.4k

Content: 18+ smut, MDNI, gender neutral reader, unspecified genitals for reader (vague penetration), more plot than porn tbh, cursing, smoking, drinking, mentions of death, slight spoilers for The Beekeeper but nothing too drastic

(A/n: title translates to “I was wrong”/“I messed up”, in which I grabbed that lyric from the Russian song “My Marmalade” by Katya Lel !! Thank you guys for showing me so much support lately. I hope you guys enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it :) love you all !!)

-

You raised your glass to your lips, letting the rich, smooth liquid of scotch graze your tongue and go down your throat seamlessly after your brief sip.

You look at the man behind the office desk in front of you. It wasn’t like you haven’t seen him in a ridiculously long time, probably just for a couple of months to a year, more or less. But you never got tired of looking at him when you could. He was an incorrigible asshole, but his beautiful, hazel eyes would convey otherwise. He was an immoral, selfish dick, but the way his lips formed into a smile could convince anybody with basic cognition that he was an angel.

The silence was awkward, indubitably because of the complicated past you shared, but the eye contact really wasn’t—if anything, it was subtly bittersweet. And instead of being at his office inside Danforth Enterprises, you were at his office inside his mansion, which already revealed the secrecy and urgency of his request: he wanted you to kill for him again.

“Nobody has a name for this guy, no leads, no info, no nothing, he is off the fucking grid,” he explained to you sternly. “I was gonna make fuckin’… Wallace fix shit up, but his incompetent fucking men keep failing me, so—”

“You’re taking manners into your own hands and your last resort was hiring me? After, like, months of radio silence from me?”

He perked up at your words, then nodded, taking a lazy sip of his drink. “Precisely.”

“Okay,” you nodded accordingly. It was second nature, instantly agreeing to something this morbid, but you were an assassin after all, and Derek had hired you quite frequently in the past to take care of things. It was actually how you two initially met and eventually became intimate through—for a while, at least. “What’re you offering?” You ask, taking a cigarette out from one small box in your pocket.

“One million,” he answered briefly. However, you scoffed in disbelief, which almost immediately gained a perplexed reaction from him. “What?”

“Let’s go over the facts,” you begin, leisurely crossing your legs by resting your ankle onto your other knee. “This guy burned down your thirty million dollar call center. He could’ve definitely been related to the goddamn gas station explosion, killed all the guys you sent, and you were the last to hear from Garnett before he died at the hands of this man.” You took out your lighter and placed the cigarette in your mouth. “This guy is fucking intense. He is out for blood, your blood, Derek. It looks like he’s going to kill anyone who gets in his way, and if that’s gonna be me, I expect a higher fucking payment.” Your voice was slightly raised at the end of your sentence as you lit your cigarette, taking a long drag.

Derek sighed as he realized that you had a point. You always did, actually, in fact, he nearly always obeyed you. It was like you were the only person who could control that firecracker of a man. “Fuck… Fucking fine. Three million.”

You give a smug smile, blowing out the smoke from your drag and letting your cigarette rest between your fingers once you moved it out of your mouth. “See how easy that was?” You tease cheekily, seeing his brows knit in impatience and exasperation. You pursed your lips before asking, “What’s this guy’s deal anyway? Like, what do you know about him so far?”

Derek huffed with agitation. “Fuck, I don’t know, he… He just fucks around with all my shit, apparently he’s a-a fuckin’ beekeeper, and—”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes widen, heart practically racing as you heard those words come out of his mouth. Was it purely coincidental, or…

“What?” He asked as he noticed how exceedingly pale your face went. You never had this expression on your face, at least not in front of him. You were always seen by him as perpetually unafraid, but in this very moment, you seemed to be unusually apprehensive. “Fuck, Y/n, what is it?”

“Did you say he was a beekeeper?” You inquired silently, fidgeting with your fingers.

“Yeah, that’s the only fucking thing we know about him. Why?” Derek seemed to appear gruff and utterly pissed on the outside, but internally and authentically, he was fundamentally solicitous, especially for you. Why were you, if anything, afraid?

“Yeah, that can’t be a fucking coincidence,” you mumble thoughtfully to yourself as you take an anxious drag from your cigarette. “The Beekeepers is some kind of secret organization, completely off the goddamn grid that consists of professionally trained assassins. And let me tell you, Danforth, these guys are hard-fucking-core. You thought I was terrible? These guys are fucking worse,” you stress, waving your cigarette around as the trail of smoke followed your hand gestures. “If this guy is a part of them, then holy shit, the both of us are dead.”

Derek processes your words, however only growing antsy and disgruntled. “So what? You can handle another fucking cocksucker. I know you, your skills are off the charts.”

“Hey, I know myself more than anybody does, including you. And I know that I have a very advanced skillset, but maybe not as advanced as fucking Beekeepers. Look, Danforth, I will definitely put up a fight, but this man could definitely—”

“Y/n, you’re the best fucking assassin I fucking know, just—just do the fucking job,” he demanded relentlessly, displeased with your insistent, yet assertively spoken doubt.

You glared at him with agitation for a few seconds, before speaking again.

“Five million,” you state bluntly.

“What?”

“Five fucking million, Danforth. If you want me to kill this man, let alone a fucking beekeeper, I expect higher pay,” you argue tactfully.

You sense a sort of irked frustration in him, his face contorted, teeth gritting behind his closed lips, and dark eyes, in which you’ve seen on several previous occasions.

“Goddamnit, Y/n, he’s just another fucking guy! Just, fuck, snipe him if you have to, or whatever,” he insisted tiredly. “You’re the best killer I know. This guy doesn’t have shit on you, just—”

“Danforth, I’m not a hundred percent sure that I’ll come back from this mission alive, so five million or no deal!” You exclaimed, trying to emphasize how dangerous this job would be.

“Jesus! Fuck! Fine!” he conceded aggressively, leaning back in his chair. “Five million it is,” he grumbled.

You feel your eyes soften and your eyebrows relax pleasantly the moment you heard those words. You grinned mischievously, taking another drag from your cigarette. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Derek rolled his eyes in response, displeased by the amount of money he was going to give you just to kill one guy.

“Sure, whatever,” he replies lazily. “I trust you, so whoever—”

You scoffed amusedly, interrupting him. “You shouldn’t,” you say.

“What?” He was extremely baffled as he heard your response.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” you repeat.

“Umm, okay, and why-why the fuck not?” Derek was frustratingly oblivious, too ignorant to comprehend the contentious situation between you two that resulted in a long period of desolated avoidance.

“You are aware that I have tried to kill you, yes?”

A piercing silence.

It was true, unfortunately. Back when you were constantly doing jobs for Derek, an anonymous hire suddenly offered more than $80 million for you to assassinate him. Back then, you were marginally involved with Derek in an intimate setting. You worked for him as his executioner, and soon enough, your charm led to you sleeping together on several occasions and exchanging some sweet kisses and words, alongside the establishment of affectionate pet names. What hurt the most about it was that it was all authentic, his feelings and yours. However, you were weak and selfish and overall blinded with greed. Eighty million was drastically more than any amount you were ever hired with. So you took up the offer to assassinate President Jessica Danforth’s young, foolish son.

You were going to pull the trigger once your eyes locked on the target, but the second you did, you missed, causing severe lockdowns and the anticipated presence of the secret service. And when it all died down, Derek caught you with his own eyes as you attempted to escape, yet shockingly, he let you go. And you barely kept in contact ever again—until now.

“It—It doesn’t matter, Y/n, okay, I don’t see you pointing a gun at my head anymore, so it’s all in the past, alright?” He raised his glass to his lips, drinking the remaining bourbon (he preferred it more than scotch).

“Wh—? Okay, why the fuck are you so calm about it? I tried to kill you, don’t you understand that?” You stressed, continuing to frustratingly watch his nonchalant reaction to you.

He set his glass back down on the table, not even bothering to put it on the actual coaster, which was literally just about an inch away. “It’s because I know you, Y/n. I know that you’re the best fucking assassin I’ve ever hired and you never miss a shot. You’re, like, completely flawless at what you do. And because you’re that perfect at it, it amuses me that you missed when you had such a clear shot at me.” You glared at him as he spoke, plainly vexed.

“You were fucking afraid,” he continued, making you huff in disbelief. “You didn’t wanna kill me. Sure, eighty million seemed promising, but it didn’t live up to the sex and passionate admiration we had for each other. I trust you because I know now that if you were offered all the diamonds and golds in the entire fucking world, you still wouldn’t kill me for any of it.”

You hated how much this was true. You couldn’t kill him if you had the chance. Which was what mainly pissed you off, because he had to be the most annoying, arrogant, egotistical bastard you knew. And yet, you had a soft spot for him. And he had a soft spot for you. You were way too fond of him.

You sigh afterwards, knowing that he was completely right, whether you’d like it or not. “Well… Okay, do you trust me when I say that there is no guarantee that I’m coming back alive—”

“Goddamnit, Y/n, enough about this!” Derek interjected. “I trust that you’ll get the job done—”

“Danforth, I—”

“You know my name,” he snarled. “Use it.”

You groan impatiently, unabashed. “Okay, Derek, well as I said, The Beekeepers is a very elite organization. There is a reason why this guy was able to take down all your men at UDG—”

“It’s because they were fucking incompetent! You, howev—”

“Holy shit, Derek, just shut up for once!” You blurt. “If I don’t make it out alive, then what are you gonna do? Hm?”

“You’re… Y/n, you are going to make it out alive,” he grumbled, tired of your claims.

“Derek, I swear to fucking god—”

“If he fucking kills you, I’ll make sure to rain fucking hell on that bastard and the whole fucking Beekeeper organization itself. Okay?”

And it was clear that he was still so very fond of you.

You gave a slight chuckle, putting out your cigarette on a nearby ashtray. Your hands clasped together in front of you on the surface of the wooden desk, which was also presented in front of him. And so suddenly, Derek placed his hands over yours, lightly grazing the back of your hands and fingers with his fingertips and palms. It was comforting, to say the least, as well as nostalgic.

“I missed you,” you muttered softly, watching the two of your hands fidget with each other, soft, warm skin moving against coarse, cold skin.

“I’ve missed you too,” he mumbled, watching your hands on the table until he moved his eyes up to yours.

“You can deny it all you want, Derek, but I’m not going to get out of this alive or untouched,” you say in the silence of the room.

“I don’t want to believe that,” he simply replied, not wanting to accept the clear reality.

“Well, when you see my obituary in the papers, you’re gonna have to,” you articulate softly as his thumb rubs against yours.

He scoffs in disbelief. “As I said, you’re the best assassin I know. You can easily take out this stupid fucking asshole.” You nod modestly. “I’m serious!”

“Derek, are you trying to flatter me?” You raise an eyebrow with a light chuckle, watching his face gradually turn rosy.

“No, I’m—I’m just pointing out the fuckin’ facts,” he claimed.

“Well… Just in case this is going to be our last night together—”

“It’s not.”

“Well, hypothetically, if—”

“It’s not.”

“Derek!” You exclaim, laughing afterwards. “Just… All I want is for us to spend one night together, as if it’s our last. C’mon, Derek… Let me take care of you.”

It took a short while for him to process your proposal, until he gently held onto your hands to bring them to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Okay. Fine,” he answered indifferently. However, you knew that he had a soft spot for you.

***

His gentle, soft lips moved with yours as his rough hands gripped your sides tenderly. It’s been months since you’ve been like this with him, extremely vulnerable with each other physically, ever since your attempt to assassinate him caused mere estrangement. Your back was against the cushiony mattress, your hands cupping his face as your tongue began to clash with his, nearly gracefully as the familiarity of his taste burdened your mouth. The nostalgia creeped behind your mind until it penetrated your brain, making you remember all the ways he used to touch you and pleasure you. But in this very moment, he and you were taking your time with each other. To feel the warm, soft skin against fingertips and fingernails that one another missed.

“You should’ve stopped this when I told you to,” you nearly whispered after you pulled away from his lips, while your eyes explored his hazel irises once again.

He seemed to have no care, or at least no reaction, tucking his head down to nip at your sensitive neck, leaving soft kisses along your throat. “My mom probably wouldn’t have won the presidential election without it,” he remarked, lips trailing up from your collarbone to your jaw.

You scoff silently, moving your hands behind his head to tangle his bleached curls in your fingers. “I’m sure she had it all under control. She’s a remarkable woman,” you reply, feeling his lips against yours again, feeling him tug on your bottom lip right before pulling away again.

“Sure, yes, but… you’ve seen the shitty stats… Without the money we earned, she probably wouldn’t be sitting cozy in the damn White House.” Derek was very persistent about his role and reasons for the continuous phishing scam.

“Well… It doesn’t even matter,” you sigh dismally. “You didn’t stop when I warned you, and now look, you’ve got a whole fucking Beekeeper after you.” Your voice was heavy in disappointment and shame. You couldn’t believe that your old lover would possibly meet his demise if you aren’t proficient enough in your mission.

“Y/n. C’mon. We’ve got it all under control,” he affirmed, pressing some reassuring kisses all over your face. “You just have to kill this one dickhead, and things will go back to the way they were.”

Your eyes meet again, feeling your heart race for a split second as you felt utterly captivated by his beauty and concealed love for you. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” you lamented under your breath.

The way his eyes gazed into yours had communicated something you never thought he would ever have: regret. “I know,” he mumbles as you kiss again, a more passionate and accelerated movement that you sensed was becoming intense.

He took off his blazer, throwing it somewhere down on the floor as you discard your jacket. The two of you could barely separate from each other for too long, so you would desperately kiss each time a new article of clothing is removed. You lift off your shirt and Derek goes down on you again to kiss at your neck once more, leaving hickeys on your collarbone and tracing his lips down to your chest. He looks up at you with affection, kissing your lips once again until he would remove his own shirt.

He cradled your face, crashing his lips onto your passionately, instantly moving his tongue with yours through parted lips. “Everything that we had…” you began in a small whisper between ardent kisses. “Was it all real? Or was it just a way for us to…. to blow off steam? To feel something?”

“No, no, no,” he breathed as you could feel his hand sensibly caress your bare sides. “You’re fucking everything to me.”

Essentially, you were terrified. You knew that eventually, you two were going to lose each other. That’s why you were taking time with this, making sure to not take even a millisecond for granted. And deep down, Derek knew that you were right and that there was no certain guarantee that you could kill the Beekeeper. So he cherished this moment with you. Because in the end, he really loves you.

It was never said out loud, but the two of you loved each other immensely. After years of knowing each other, working together, the ‘one-night-stands’ with ‘no strings attached,’ you two fell for each other faster than the bodies that you shot for him. You were practically the only person he could be stable and decent around. It was always seen through abruptly softened eyes at even the smallest mention of your name.

Once you two were completely naked, your bare bodies attached to each other throughout each deep kiss. His hands graciously moved up and down the skin of your waist as your fingers lost itself in his soft hair, bodies radiating warmth against the other.

His eyes locked with yours, and there was some kind of poignant, desperation in them, looking at you as if you were going to disappear the moment he looked away. “Promise me you’ll come back from this mission alive,” he commanded softly in the cold silence of the room.

“I’ve told you already, Derek,” you sigh wistfully. “He’s a few more steps ahead of me.”

There was something almost so pathetic and contradictory about his distraught mannerisms. “Then I give you full permission to abort,” he proposed, “when things get too risky. If you seriously think you’re going to get killed, then forget about the entire fucking mission, forget about me, okay?”

“You know I can’t do that.” You stroke his hair tenderly between your fingertips, pushing his curls away from disorder. “It’s either go with the mission or not at all. There’s no point in getting myself into deep shit just to abort.”

The man sighed as he knew you were right, again. But also… “I don’t care,” he blurts. “I don’t fucking care. You can go as far as you’d like with him, but when shit hits the fan, I need you to at least beg for mercy, get on your fucking knees if you have to. I need you to get out of the situation immediately, Y/n, okay? I can’t lose you. Shit, I can’t fucking lose you, okay, not again.”

Your heart sank.

He really did care for you.

“Do you love me?” You ask quietly.

The hesitation in his response would give the impression that he had to think about your question, but the truth was that he always knew—he always knew the answer. He loved you, indisputably.

“Yes,” he answered silently. Then, with more confidence, “I love you. I love you so much that I cannot afford to lose you. I can’t fucking lose you. I just got you back, you can’t leave me again.”

A small smile appeared at the corner of your lips. “I’m still here, my marmalade,” he shivered pleasantly at your use of your old, affectionate nickname for him. “And I love you too. All of me is here for you. That’s the point of all this.”

After a shared, enamored look, his lips attached to yours, and the two of you couldn’t help but whimper as you felt the aching head of his cock begin to enter you, already stretching you with his size. It wasn’t until his length was pushed fully inside you, making your breath hitch as the warm, complete feeling had sparked bittersweet memories of the two of you doing this together in the past. Most of the times they were faster-paced and rougher. But this? It was all foreignly vanilla to you; this was straight-up making love at its fibrous roots.

Your face was flushed, feeling tingly as he slowly began to move in and out, his hands hooked under your shoulders in a grip as you held his forearms, locking his legs down with your own. He kissed your lips softly, then down to your neck as his thrusts slowly increased, putting all his weight on you as your chests were pressed against each other.

The two of you let out soft moans once every overlapping feeling intensified, breath quickening every snap of Derek’s hips. You moved your hand to the back of his head, tangling his hair in your fingers again as you deepened the kiss, the two of you only parting to breathe.

“Fuck,” he rasped, sinking into you deeper. Your bodies were so close together, nearly merging as you felt each passionate thrust filling you up. “You feel as good as I remembered.” You let his head be buried into your neck as you felt him gently nip the skin, your fingers still wrapped in his curls and you let your eyes rest, completely indulging in the pleasure he offered. “You were right,” Derek breathed softly. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

You raise an eyebrow at his remark. “Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I don’t even want you to do this job anymore. If I’m gonna die because I’ll end up not hiring you, then so be it,” Derek husked, continuing to move inside you, making your fleshy walls flutter in exhilaration. “At this point, I’d rather have me die than you.”

You stutter out a quiet moan as you feel his movements quicken. “Damn. The sex is that good?” You joked, letting out a breathy chuckle.

He rolled his eyes playfully and snickered lowly. “Yes, the sex is that good,” he reciprocated, mumbling in your lips as he thrusted artfully.

It was like he was no longer selfish with it anymore. Sure, the sex you had in the past with him had equally distributed pleasure, but you would find him focusing on his own release sometimes. However, in this very moment, you could tell that he moved generously and patiently, fucking you carefully—‘fucking,’ however, seemed like a more aggressive approach to describe what was happening, which was plainly the opposite of everything entirely; this was pure lovemaking.

You felt yourself tighten around him as he increases his pace, lips no longer focused on kissing you, but driving the two of you to your release. His cock pushed faster and deeper, in and out, his throat withdrawing stuttered, low grunts and loud, quick breaths. You felt a knot in your stomach, your gut stirring in anticipation. “F-fuck,” he murmured as you felt his hot breath on the side of your face. “Y/n, I’m close.”

Your desperate panting became louder as your legs locked down on his even tighter, threatening to bend further. He lifts his head back up to make eye contact with you, seeing the other’s heated faces and loving gaze. “M-me too, baby.”

He kissed your lips deeply once again, thrusting into you at a rhythm that began to falter, quickening with every soft moan you crooned, repeatedly muttering his name with yearn.

Your cries had crescendoed, hearing desperate, higher-pitched grunts escaping Derek’s pretty mouth, as your bodies stayed warm against each other, building sweat from the intensity’s heat. The sound of skin slapping against skin amplified, wet, squelching noises emitting from each fast action of slipping in and out. You felt an overwhelming feeling of pleasure, feeling yourself come closer to your orgasm as your thighs begin to twitch and body begin to ache. It’s almost like you can’t breathe, the way his length fills you up perfectly and caresses your walls sensually.

“D-Derek, I—” Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head, but you shut them once you feel your lips attached to his. “I’m—fuck—I’m cumming!” You announce, feeling the entirety of your body tense up, already feeling the sensitivity you would feel post-orgasm.

“Hold on, baby, just wait a little longer for me, that’s good, that’s it, fuck,” he breathed frantically, nearly praising your patience and obedience. Derek’s moans becomes louder, practically in unison with yours, and he moaned out your name passionately once the two of you finally came together. Your voice cracks as you call him, hips jolting as you release, feeling yourself become fragile once you clench around him more intensely, back nearly arching in ecstasy. With one last slam of his hips, he came deeply inside you, spilling his warm cum through enraptured and euphoric spurts, making yourself feel entirely filled as his hips remained against yours, cock still utterly inside of you.

The two of you caught your breaths, just to kiss each other again, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Because once all the euphoria slowly died down, you remembered the reality of everything: you or him were going to die at the hands of a compulsive vigilante, and not everything you had together was going to last forever.

His head was buried in your neck, placing lazy pecks on it as the two of you held each other comfortably and safely.

“I just got you back,” he muttered. You were the only person that Derek was the most vulnerable around. “I don’t want to lose you again. Please be careful.”

“You know me,” you reassure softly, disregarding everything you had warned him about. You knew you couldn’t stand a chance against this man. But you’d do it anyway, for Derek. “I’ve killed over fifty men throughout my entire job. I’ve got this.”

Suddenly, he remembered everything you said about the Beekeeper, and how you even doubted yourself and your abilities. “But, you said—”

“Forget what I said,” you interrupt. “I’ve got a real drive to kill him, okay, and that’s you. As long as I have you in my head, he doesn’t stand a chance.” You hated lying to him. But at this point, it wasn’t even about the five million dollars or him hiring you at that; it was about protecting him.

“Are you sure? Because you were very persistent—”

You shut him up with a sweet, deep kiss. “Don’t you worry about it, my marmalade. I’ll take care of it.” You lied straight through your tender, flushed lips that he kissed back.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

So I'm stuck on this shithole Island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 7)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 3.6k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, HEAVY angst, fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Derek wakes up long before you do the next morning.

Except, not really. Is it really "waking up" if he never fell asleep in the first place?

He'd insisted on going to bed early, skipping dinner. For once, you hadn't pushed him to reconsider, and he wasn't sure whether to be angry about that or not.

He has plenty of other things to be angry about, anyway.

Derek flings himself onto the couch in a huff, fumbling for the T.V remote. Maybe he could drown out his thoughts with some bullshit movie.

It doesn't really work. His mind keeps wandering back to you. How could you dismiss his feelings so easily? Sure, maybe it's too early to drop to his knees and make a declaration of love... but he's sure there's something between the two of you.

Seriously. You'd given him not one, but TWO kisses yesterday. If you don't like him, you're just being cruel.

Around midmorning, you stumble downstairs, and Derek purposefully ignores your greeting. He doesn't have any especially nice words for you at the moment.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" You call out, heading through a doorway and into the adjacent kitchen.

"M'not hungry." He grumbles back, determined to show his displeasure.

There's no response, so he just sighs and curls up on the couch, tucking his face into the cushions and hiding away. He can still feel a bit of lingering embarrassment from yesterday's rejection.

Well, sort-of rejection. Secretly, he was still holding onto some level of hope that you like him. Technically you never told him how YOU feel. You just brushed him off and ran away.

Coward.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Sit up. I'm not letting you skip two meals in a row." You gently shake Derek's shoulder and place a plate of food on the coffee table. A simple breakfast, toast and some fruit. Hardly a good offering considering he made you pancakes yesterday, but damnit, you weren't sure he was going to eat at all.

Derek rolls over and stares blankly at the meager breakfast, mumbling some kind of thanks. He doesn't make any effort to sit up and offer you room on the couch... so you make due and perch on the armrest, near his head.

"So... what do you wanna do today?" You ask, trying to remain casual after yesterday's uncomfortable conversation.

Actually, "uncomfortable" might be an understatement. Damn him. Couldn't he see that anything romantic between the two of you is ABSOLUTELY out of the question?

Even ignoring the whole son-of-your-boss thing, (which is disgustingly cliché), he's still a fucking Danforth. Son of the goddamn president. And a billionaire, to boot.

Okay, those qualities were probably attractive to some people. Or most people. But not you.

You look down at the man who is pointedly ignoring your question and poking at his food. No, his wealth and influence were not his best qualities. You much preferred his dorky charm. Hell, even his bratty side could be cute. Sometimes.

"It's toast, Derek. Not poison." You scoff and take a bite of your own food just to prove a point.

He glares at you for a moment, and you finally get a good look at him. Are those... eye bags? Suddenly, you feel guilty for not offering to let him sleep in your bed again. Maybe he really does need it.

Eventually, he grumbles something under his breath and grabs for his plate, beginning to nibble a piece of fruit.

Damn. He's so cold this morning. Usually you'd be sitting properly on the couch with him, his head in your lap, and your hand in his hair... not just precariously balanced on the stupid armrest.

Is he really that upset about last night? You'd tried to let him down as gently as possible. And there was no way he was serious about you, anyway. He's the kind of rich asshole who could snap a finger and have the perfect trophy wife delivered to his door in a heartbeat.

You have to be honest with yourself here, and the truth is that Derek Danforth would drop you as soon as you two got back home. Better to save yourself the heartbreak.

"If I have to watch T.V all day I think I'll die of boredom." Derek breaks your contemplative silence after a few minutes, whining and dramatically draping an arm over his eyes.

Ah, right. Gotta keep the brat entertained so he stays out of trouble.

"I'll see what I have for us to do." You respond calmly, hopping down from the armrest and heading upstairs.

Damnit. You need to diffuse the situation, fast. Everything feels so tense between the two of you, like he's pulling back into his shell. Normally you'd suggest going down to the beach again, but considering he nearly drowned yesterday? That's off the table.

After poking around in your closet for a few minutes, you return with an armload of various boxes. A few board games, a pack of cards, puzzles, books, and even some paper and colored pencils. Hey, with no internet, you'd have to make due.

"Any of this look interesting?" You huff, dumping it all on the coffee table.

Derek sits up and raises an eyebrow at the pile of less-than-adequate activities. "What is this, a summer camp? Do I look five?"

"Hey, you're the one that called me a glorified babysitter."

He just rolls his eyes in return, standing up and muttering something about a headache.

"Where are you going?" You ask, watching him trudge upstairs.

"To rest."

You're left alone on the living room floor, watching him disappear as a couple of the various precariously-stacked boxes tip off the coffee table and spill their contents across the rug.

This is not going well.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek lies back on the mound of pillows piled against his headboard, a sleepy haze clouding his mind as he tries to stay awake.

He rubs his eyes, blinking at the flat screen TV mounted to the wall opposite him. The bright flashing colors are probably the only thing keeping him awake right now.

Just as he's about to drift off, a knock at the door pulls him back into reality.

"Derek? I brought you some Tylenol."

Before he can tell you to go away, you throw the door open and waltz in. Apparently, you've forgotten what happened the first time you did that.

"Here, take this. And something to wash it down with."

He sighs and accepts the medicine, swallowing the little pill and downing half the glass of water before setting it aside.

"Oh, so watching TV wasn't the issue, you just didn't want to watch it with me, huh?" You ask, taking a seat at the foot of his bed and turning your attention to the television.

He can tell you're just being playful, but the question still makes him squirm slightly. Damnit. He's torn between wanting to joke back, and wanting to chew you out for acting so normal. You made his whole world fall apart last night, and now you're going to sit on his bed and crack jokes?

"You're blocking the screen." Derek grumbles, trying to show his annoyance.

Unfortunately, you take that to mean "crawl further into my bed", and end up taking a seat next to him, with your back to the headboard.

He begrudgingly allows it, silently watching as the stupid movie he picked out plays. At least you're not touching him.

...

Fuck. Not even a minute passes before you lace your fingers into his hair, a gesture he'd usually appreciate. Now? It just serves as a reminder that you aren't his.

He finally loses it when you tug on his hair in that oh-so-familiar way that makes him whine involuntarily.

"Can you stop?"

"Stop what?" You blink down at him with a blank expression, clearly confused. God, can't you see what you're doing to him? How is he supposed to just sit back and let you touch him like this after being rejected?

"Acting like everything can just go back to normal."

"Can't it?"

"No."

You take in a sharp breath, but before you can respond Derek pushes your hand away and sits up. He isn't done with last night's conversation, and he's not letting you worm your way out of his questions this time around.

"If you don't like me, that's fine. But stop fucking pretending like you do."

That statement seems to hit you hard, because you wince at his words and harsh tone.

Derek doesn't care, continuing his rant. "Always touching me... playing with my hair, hugging me, kissing me, hell... we fucking slept together..."

"Don't say it like that, please." You visibly grimace, slinking back against the bed.

That just agitates him further.

"Yeah, well, even if we didn't fuck it was still EXTREMELY intimate."

"YOU'RE the one who begged to sleep in my bed."

"Yeah, after you KISSED me!"

"On the cheek!"

Derek is just fuming. He wants to argue back, but the truth is, he's not even sure you're wrong.

Yes, the two of you have gotten... closer, over the past week or so. But is he reading too far into things? Are you really just... this nice?

Fuck. He has no idea. Maybe he's not special. Maybe you treat everyone this way. Or everyone you're close with, at least.

He slumps down face first into his pillows, having completely lost the will to argue. Something tugs at his chest, but it's not the same pain he felt last night.

He just feels... defeated.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You stare down at Derek, and you can't help but feel bad for the man, even if he's sort of pissing you off as well.

Yeah, you've been getting closer with him... so what? He's not some innocent bystander in all this. He literally BEGS to be touched, whether he realizes it or not.

Like right now. God, you can't just leave him like that. If he starts crying again, you'll probably cry with him.

"C'mere, love. Can I hold you?"

It's probably best to ask permission before grabbing for him, just in case he tries to use this as further evidence you're leading him on. You don't exactly give him a chance to say no, though, tugging him up towards you.

He resists slightly at first, but gives in completely when he looks up into your eyes.

You pull him tightly against your chest, his cheek pressed just above your heart. If you weren't wearing the simple cotton t-shirt, you could probably feel his stubble.

One of your hands finds its way into his hair, lacing your fingers in his soft curls. The other rubs soothing circles into his back, pulling him as close as possible.

His arms wrap around your waist in return, and he shifts to lie between your legs, melting into your embrace.

You lean back against the headboard and just hold him for a while, doing your best to comfort him. He can act angry and standoffish all he wants, but you know deep down he still craves your touch.

"This sucks."

"I'm trying my best here, Derek. I'd like to think I'm a pretty good hugger..."

"Not you. Well... not ALL you. This whole things sucks. Being stuck here, I mean."

Derek sighs and tilts his head up to look at you, his chin resting right between your breasts as he slumps lower.

"Well, you only have..." You pause briefly to do the math. "...11 days left?"

"I was only SUPPOSED to be here for two," he grumbles.

"I know... just, your mother thought-"

"My MOTHER is part of the fucking problem." His face turns sour and he squeezes you a little tighter as he rants.

"I thought- FINALLY - she was going to make time for me. Of fucking course not. She just wanted to get rid of me for three weeks."

Ah, great. So drug issues AND mommy issues. This man really has it all, huh?

"It's not exactly a good look for the president to have a druggie as a son." You say the words in a lightly teasing tone, but he seems to take them as accusing.

"I didn't ASK her to be the fucking president, okay? And regardless, she never would have made it this far in her political career if it weren't for me. Before I stepped in, she was behind in 15 of 20 counties she needed to win."

You just watch helplessly as he rants, biting your lip as to not say anything that could provoke him further.

"15 of 20!" He repeats, scoffing. "I fund her entire fucking campaign... and how does she repay me? By shipping me off to some shithole island."

It's wrong, but... you can't help but wistfully smile at his little comments.

"You know, Danforth... most people don't have the luxury of an all-expenses-paid vacation on a private island while they're getting through an addiction... they just continue working their shitty dead-end jobs."

"Spare me, please. When has the 'It could be worse' sentiment ever helped anyone, EVER?" He responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Honestly? He has a point. Even if he's still relatively spoiled when compared to the general public... well, this is probably the toughest thing he's ever gone through in his sheltered life. And it IS your job to help him though it.

You tug at his hair a little more in an attempt to soothe him, which just makes him wine. He tries to cover it up by burying his face into you, but accidentally ends up with a faceful of titty.

He seems to immediately realize his mistake, because he mumbles a lame-ass apology and starts to pull away from you.

You pull him right back against you, probably a little too eagerly.

"I don't mind."

It's a struggle to get the words out without sounding giddy. You absolutely love having him there, so close to your heart.

Your chest swells with warmth as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, the lower half of his face sinking between your breasts.

“This is cruel.” He grumbles and looks down, burying his face in your chest.

“What? Letting you shove your face in my tits is cruel?”

“When I know you're just going to write it off as platonic behavior later, yes.”

Ouch. Okay, he had a point with that one, too. Damnit. Can he really blame you, though? Getting involved with Derek Danforth of all people… can’t he see just how MESSY that could be for you?

But looking down at him, it’s really hard to see him as your boss’s son, or the president's son, or a billionaire, or whatever-the-fuck else. He just looks… needy.

You continue to stroke his hair and rub his back simultaneously, and a few whimpers escape him as he nestles his face between your breasts.

It’s honestly shocking just how natural the whole thing feels. God, if only you were bare-chested…

"Okay, maybe this isn't a purely platonic relationship." You slump back against the headboard as you admit this, groaning internally.

This piques his interest, but you don't give him the chance to look up at you, shoving his face back down into your chest. Looking him in the eyes is just too much right now.

Hell, all of this is too much. Derek seems to share the sentiment, because he lets out a low groan. Or was that a moan?

"You're killing me." He whines, shifting his hips almost imperceptibly and slowly grinding them against the mattress.

"Oh? What's wrong, love?" You hum in response, tugging at his hair with one hand and tracing your nails across his back with the other. Like you even need to ask. It's obvious how he's feeling. Horny bastard.

He groans in response, tipping his head back to stare up at you. Fuck. Those eyes. He looks completely lovesick. Or lust-sick, maybe? He's still not-so-subtly grinding against the bed.

"You're so fucking pretty. It's not fair." You cup his face in your hands, lifting him from your chest slightly to better examine his face. His dark eyelashes flutter as he blinks up at you, a look of pure disbelief on his face.

Yeah. Pretty. You can't think of any other word to describe him in this moment. His cheeks, lightly dusted with freckles, turn pinker by the second as you lean in for a kiss. Then another kiss. And another.

He squirms in your grasp as you pepper soft kisses from one side of his face to the other, following the pattern of his freckles. His eyes flutter shut and he squeezes you tighter, eager to feel your touch.

You pull back to look at him again, still cradling his face in your hands. This is so wrong. You shouldn't be kissing him like this. You shouldn't be kissing him at all, actually. What happened to stomping out your feelings and hoping for the best? Protecting yourself from the man who would just inevitably break your heart?

"You're prettier." He mumbles, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he stares up at you with blissful admiration.

Those words penetrate straight to your core. Damnit... as much as you hate to admit it, this man is no heartbreaker.

"Oh, love..." You pull him back against your chest as you trail off, the words getting lost on their way from your heart to your lips.

He whines again as you absentmindedly tug at his curls, something that's become nearly as comforting for you as it is for him.

"Please... I'm... mnnghh..." He mumbles, the words coming out muffled as he nuzzles further into your chest.

You're not even completely sure what he's asking for, but damn, hearing him beg is addictive.

"What do you want, love?" You coo at him, voice soft and low as you hold him tightly against your chest.

He just pants in response, occasionally letting a whimper slip free as you continue to play with his hair. His breathing gets more and more shallow as he continues to shamelessly jut his hips into the mattress.

For the hundredth time, you remind yourself just how wrong this is. Those thoughts are immediately drowned out by his soft noises of pleasure, and you can't help but wonder just how much he can even feel through those sweatpants, anyways. Maybe if you took them off for him...?

No. Fuck. That's too far. Right now, you're not doing anything wrong. How could you be? You aren't even touching him. Well... not touching him there.

"Please." He repeats, crying the word out a little louder this time.

Guilt and lust battle in your stomach, and you can tell which has won when you clench around nothing. God, something about him begging is just so... ugh.

"What? You wanna cum?"

Derek lets out a high pitched whine, nodding into your chest.

"Can you wait for me?" You whisper the words, barely audible as one of your hands makes it's way down to the waistband of your shorts.

Another nod. More panting. The bed starts to shake slightly with the intensity of his grinding, and your brain goes fuzzy as thoughts of him overwhelm your senses.

Your had dips into your shorts, and you begin to play with yourself as Derek does the same. Well, something similar enough.

"Faster." The word comes out as a moan, and you aren't sure if you're talking to Derek or yourself.

He takes the order seriously, jutting his hips into the bed more rapidly.

Fuck. The noises he's making are almost pathetic, and somehow it's the hottest thing you've ever heard. Soon your own moans join his, creating a lustful symphony as you both lose yourselves in the other's touch.

All thoughts of this being inappropriate are long gone. All thoughts in general are long gone. You see, taste, smell, hear, feel, and breathe Derek Danforth.

He must feel the same way, because he starts to mumble your name over and over, his hips stuttering as he grips you tighter, like he's afraid you'll slip away.

"I'm here, love." You coo at him, planting a quick kiss on the top of his head.

"Cum for me. Can you do that for me, pretty boy? Hm?"

Apparently he can, because he gasps, and with a few more thrusts... he's reduced to a sweaty, writhing mess in your lap.

You aren't much better off, finishing immediately after him. Shit... are your legs trembling? Is that normal? Fucking Danforth.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek finally pries himself from your chest, staring up into your eyes and breathing heavily from the exertion.

Two days in a row... that's got to be a personal record. He shudders at the uncomfortable, yet familiar, feeling of hot cum in his sweatpants.

"S-sorry... Did you...?" He stumbles over his own words, face flushing as you stare down at him. This is so fucking embarrassing. He shouldn't let himself get so damn desperate.

"Yeah... I did." You respond, blinking at him with a dazed expression.

Derek knows that feeling. He's half convinced this is all some kind of sick hallucination induced by his severe sleep depravity.

His worries are washed away as you lean down and plant another kiss on his forehead. He wants nothing more than to stay here with you, but fuck... the mess.

"I'm gonna go clean up." He mumbles, pulling away from you and discreetly covering the wet spot on his sweats... like you don't already know what happened.

"Please, just... stay." Derek looks back at you one last time before disappearing into his bathroom, and all he can do is pray you'll still be there when he returns.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Author's note: Okay this took WAY too long and I have no excuse I'm sorry. I hope it was worth the wait! It's currently 3am, stayed up all night writing this because I'll be out of town then next few days. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out in a reasonable amount of time... but I do plan to write a one-off smut piece first, so... who knows. I'll try.

Also I REALLY want to write about Derek teaching the reader to play poker but I do not know how to play poker. Someone help. Can two people play poker together? Or does one have to be the dealer? How does that work? DM me or send an ask or a comment or something I need help!!!

LOVE Y'ALL thanks so much for being patient <3

You Can’t Spell ‘FWB’ without ‘Friend’

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: Ever since the night before, you and Derek had become best friends with benefits. Bored at a fancy rich person party, you two decide to hook up again. However, when you’re inexplicably taken out of the mood, you two decide to do something else for the night: hang out like the best friends you were.

Word Count: 2.9k

Content: 18+ content, MDNI, (graphic descriptions of) sex (awkward), cursing, mentions of drugs, (best) friends with benefits, platonic (but you can interpret it as potentially romantic), short read, reader and Derek are just best pals that fuck, slightly ooc Derek, reader is rich/famous like Derek, attempt to hook up in the bathroom at a party (end up hanging out instead), smoking, drinking, Star Wars references, very chaotic

(A/n: Dedicating this to my wifey @xcherryerim 🫶 your post awaiting this fic meant a lot to me :3)

-

Holy fuck, you wanted to gouge your eyes out.

You had a glass of wine in your hand, staring at the crowd of old, wealthy hags, sipping the drink briefly out of boredom.

You were at yet another fancy party in some rich person’s mansion, accompanied by your best friend Derek, the son of President Jessica Danforth and CEO of Danforth Enterprises. You had been good friends with him for a very long time, the two of you always stirring up trouble whenever together.

You stare down at the deep scarlet of your drink, intensely zoning out as you thought about the night before. A pair of hands caressing the skin on your thighs, legs tightening around hips, wrists held above your head, and loud, sultry moans and sounds filling the room.

And then you snapped out of it as you felt a tap on your shoulder. You looked up to see exactly him—Derek.

“This party is ass,” you grumble to him, taking a sip from your drink.

“I know,” he replies, sipping his. “Any luck with finding investors?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I have people doing that for me,” you scoff.

“Right,” he nods.

“Any luck with convincing some poor girl to invest in crypto?” You ask, looking at him as you raise an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he answers with a sigh, but a smile was plastered on his face.

You chuckled at his reply. “Hah. I’m not surprised. Crypto is fucking ridiculous.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

“Hm, you already did. What, once isn’t enough for you?” you retort quickly, sneering.

Derek’s eyes widened in response, frantically looking around to see if anyone heard you, then whispered, “Would—Would you be quiet?” He stressed under his breath. “Don’t say that fucking shit out loud, what if somebody heard?”

Last night didn’t really mean to happen. Like the close friends you were, you hung out with Derek at his mansion as you regularly do. However, one thing led to another because of a bottle of pinot noir and the unfortunate appearance of a sex scene in a movie you two watched together. Accordingly, you woke up sore the next morning. You two had established that it was just hooking up, no strings attached—but nobody could know about your arrangement. Not your friends, not your co-workers, and especially not Derek’s mother. While he was known for being promiscuous, the press couldn’t find out that Derek had hooked up with you, not only a good friend of Derek, but someone who was well known in the media due to their wealth.

You roll your eyes carelessly as flashes from last night began to cloud your mind. His fast breaths, his body, his skilled hands. Yet you shook it off easily. “Oh, come on, Derek, these old, ancient fucks can’t hear shit.” An old woman looked at you in disapproval after hearing you swear, walking away from you. “Okay, well, she heard that, but nobody’s gonna know! Don’t get your fuckin’ Louis Vuitton boxers in a twist.”

“They’re not—” he huffs in annoyance. You weren’t taking this seriously, which ultimately frustrated him; your carelessness reminded him too much of himself. “Y/n, who knows what’ll happen if anyone finds out? Like, you know I have to keep my fucking reputation up, and you do too. I don’t think there’s anything Wallace could do if the press found out we hooked up.”

You pause briefly until a smirk creeps up onto your lips in realization. “You regret it, don’t you?”

“No, of course I don’t regret it,” he answers immediately. Not regretting it was clearly an understatement. He really enjoyed last night, every second, every feeling. So he was slightly confused as to why you even doubted him. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just—” you stutter out, “I woke up and you were gone, you know.” You mutter as you took out a cigarette, placing it into your mouth and lighting it.

His mouth went dry and he pursed his lips promptly. “I had to be at Danforth Enterprises,” he says, watching you exhale the smoke from your cigarette.

“Yeah, well, you could’ve sent me a text or written a note,” you shrug. “Like, it’s your house, dude. I was supposed to be the one leaving the morning after, not you.”

“Right, sorry,” he says simply. “Force of habit.” —It was true; he had an infamous history of one-night stands.

“Plus, I’m your best friend,” you reason. “I don’t want this to, like, ruin everything we had. Like, you’re still my buddy to me.”

He looked at you with a slightly amused grin. “Hey, nothing’s gonna change between us, alright? As you said, you’re my best friend, and it’s always gonna stay that way.” You chuckled, offering him a smile as you heard his response. He could be sentimental whenever he wanted. “Look, the day our friendship will ever change is the day I’ll shut down UDG and Nine Star. Which is basically, like, fucking never. Don’t worry about it.” Even as he said the last sentence, this could be interpreted in two different ways. The first one is that he’d never be in some sort of greater relationship with you, likewise his reluctance to stop scamming. The second one, however, implies that if he ever got into something serious with you, a moral obligation will arise, forcing him to shut down his unethical phishing companies just for you. Right. That sounded ridiculous. It was definitely not the latter.

The two of you both took a sip of your drink in unison.

“But, like,” he began, swirling his glass of wine in his hand engagingly, “Is this gonna be, like, a regular thing?”

You raise an eyebrow curiously after taking a sip of your own. “Like, hooking up?” He nods. “I mean… Whatever happens, happens.”

“Uhh, how do you mean?”

“Like, if it was a one-time thing, so be it. But if it’s gonna become regular, then also so be it,” you took a drag of your cigarette. “Doesn’t really matter. We can just, like, do whatever we want. Nothing has to be all predetermined. If we feel like fucking, then we’ll fuck. If not, then great, another day of walking normally.”

“Right,” he says.

You were bored.

So fucking bored.

You dressed all fancy for nothing, you feel. You were obligated to go the same reason Derek had: your wealthy, famous status. But it was so underwhelming and useless, even. As long as you made an appearance, then that should’ve been enough for everybody.

You put out your cigarette and finish your wine, nearly chugging it.

“Hey,” you tap on Derek’s shoulder, making him turn around to look at you after he had been gazing at a potential crypto girl. “Wanna do a quickie in this rich loser’s bathroom?”

He raises an eyebrow in interest.

***

You were held up against the wall of the bathroom, legs wrapped around Derek’s hips as his hands held you by your thighs, pounding his cock in and out of you at a fairly quick pace. Your hands held onto his arms and your chin rested on his shoulder tiredly as the occasional skin slapping against skin sound echoed in the room, hearing Derek grunt with almost every thrust.

You felt slightly uncomfortable and awkward. Like, you weren’t really aroused. It felt… dry? You didn’t know what you meant by that, but the friction was just… unsatisfying. He was grazing your walls in a way that just made it feel like burning, increasing your discomfort. But at least he looked like he was enjoying this. Good for him, you guessed.

This never happened before, so it was sort of… really weird to you, to say the least.

To be honest, you were kind of bored. Like, really bored. How the hell were you still bored? You temporarily escaped an old rich people party to have rigorous sex in their bathroom with your best friend, but you were still bored.

“Shit…” you mutter, disgruntled, as he moved consistently inside you, the burning sensation catching up with you. “What the fuck? Why does—ow—Why the fuck is this hurting?”

Derek pulls his head away from your shoulder and looks at you in concern, his dick still inside of you. “Are you okay? Should I go slower?” He offers, raising an eyebrow as he searched for hesitance in your eyes, then looking you up and down.

“Yeah, sure, okay,” you nodded. “It’s whatever, just—just keep going,” you dismiss in a low murmur. As he starts again at a slower pace, you still had an uncomfortable expression on your face. He was moving his hips but all you felt was mere irritation.

“Okay, what—what the hell?” You groan as you still felt shitty, resulting in Derek stopping his thrusts.

“What’s the issue? Am I still going fast? Should I slow down more?”

“Yeah, uh, probably, yeah,” you say as your head goes back on his shoulder. He proceeds with his movements, his cock sliding in at an even slower pace, stretching your walls more intricately.

“Is this—is this better?” He asks as he moves patiently, steadily moving in and out of your body.

And it wasn’t even a minute in before you would interrupt again.

“Umm… Actually I,” you begin, sighing, “I’m just—I don’t know, I’m not feeling it.”

Derek slides out, still holding you up against the wall by your thighs and raises an eyebrow, looking into your eyes. “Seriously?”

You nod simply.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” He asks, unsure if it was something on his part.

“I don’t know, I’m just not really feeling it,” you reply awkwardly.

“Weren’t you the one who brought it up—”

“I’m not feeling it anymore, dude, I’m sorry!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in surrender.

He puts you down as you put your clothing back on. As you slip your underwear back on, you look at him standing by the same spot by the wall. “Are you still hard?” You ask, raising an eyebrow insightfully.

“Yup,” he shrugs shamelessly.

You sort of felt bad, since you were the one who had the idea of fucking in the bathroom in the first place, making him all riled up.

You sigh softly and you two look at each other in silence. You let out a quiet huff.

“Want me to jerk you off?”

Soon after his release, he put his boxers and pants on leisurely. You were in front of the mirror, trying to fix your hair and clothing, ensuring that you didn’t just come back from a sexual experience in the bathroom.

“Dude, look at how much expensive perfume these jagoffs own,” you chuckle amusedly, looking down at the bathroom sink counter. On the surface were several perfumes of Armani, Burberry, Dolce & Gabbana, as well as a few lotions.

“Hey, don’t—don’t touch those, Y/n.” Too late. You sprayed him with one.

You two grimaced at the scent.

“Well shit, I didn’t even know what I expected,” you cough severely, waving your hand around your nose as you despised the shitty perfume’s smell.

“I told you not to touch them, idiot,” he huffs, buckling his belt as he scowled at the odor.

“Don’t be a dickwad, you totally would’ve been curious enough to try them too,” you scoff, looking through the cabinets of the bathroom mirror and sinks. “Hey, look,” you smirk, throwing a small object at him that you had found.

He caught it involuntarily with his hands and inspected the item: it was a bottle of Viagra. He raised an eyebrow, looking at you and laughed softly. “I am not surprised that these old fucks can’t get it on,” he threw it back at you and you shelved it back in its original place.

You watch him take a hit from his vape and you sigh from boredom. You didn’t want to be in this bathroom any longer, but you definitely didn’t want to be out in the party either.

“Dude, I’m bored,” you whine as he handed you his vape pen.

“‘Sup Bored, I am Derek,” he muttered sarcastically, under his breath. You rolled your eyes and handed him back his vape once you were done with it.

“Can you—can you not?” you mumble exasperatedly in response as he just raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, making his way towards the door, “We’re getting out of here, you can ride with me.”

“Hold on,” you interject quickly. “We should—I mean—I should probably wait a few minutes after you leave the bathroom to get out. You know, so no one will suspect us if we were to, like, walk out of the bathroom together.”

“Right. Yeah. Yeah, you have a point,” he nods.

You had to be careful from now on, realizing that just through the mere plan of leaving the bathroom alternately. This meant you had to be more delicate and thoughtful with every action and word that came from you—and Derek’s—to keep this messy secret.

***

You were laid on the bed beside Derek, one hand tangled in his hair and the other holding an ice cream cone as the bright colors of the TV in front of you nearly blinded your eyes. Your arm was propped up behind Derek’s head in order to play with his hair, feeling the soft curls brushing your palm and fingertips. The two of you looked intensely at the screen as you ate your ice cream in one hand, which was graciously prepared by Derek’s personal chef.

“Dude, Jar Jar Binks was definitely a Sith Lord,” you blurt in a low mutter. Derek turns his head and looks at you in befuddlement.

“What? No. Y/n, no, no, no, do not get started on this again—”

“I’m just saying, dude, that whole ‘goofy idiot’ appearance was hiding the fact that he was a powerful Sith Lord!” You exclaim passionately. “Have you seen his fighting style?”

“Yes, I’ve seen his fighting style, and it looks as if he’s chugged twenty fuckin’ martinis, then atrociously became crossfaded through several, reckless bong rips,” he replied straightforwardly.

You pause briefly as you realized. “Derek, I swear, if that was a reference to that one hangover I had back in December, I swear fucking to god—”

He met you with silence.

You nearly whisper, “Was it?”

The smirk that rose onto his lips told you everything, and you playfully smacked the top of his head since your hand was already there before, tangled in his hair. “Ow,” he muttered, yet his smirk never ceasing. “Look, all I’m saying is that I respect you for that. You are, like, the craziest person I know in the best fucking way possible.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” you mumble, fighting the inevitable curl of your lips that formed a flattered, soft grin. “Okay, anyways, all I’m saying, is that not only was it a tactic to trick his opponents, but he could’ve also been using the force! And how many times has he avoided death?”

“Okay, Y/n, that’s enough, lay off the grass,” he jokes, letting out a low snicker. “How is Jar Jar even relevant? We—we aren’t even watching the prequels, isn’t this The Empire Strikes Back?”

“No, I’m pretty sure we’re watching Return of the Jedi,” you say confidently.

“No, this is—this is definitely Empire Strikes Back,” he refutes, then pauses. “Did we seriously forget?”

“Well, there’s a billion of movies in this franchise, so we’re bound to mix up its titles. Hm, well, it can’t be The Empire Strikes Back, because Return of the Jedi is the one with that sexy Leia outfit,” you reason, shrugging. Derek raises an eyebrow. “Okay, okay, you know what, this isn’t even the point, the point is, that Jar Jar is relevant because it’s fuckin’ Star Wars!”

“Whatever,” Derek rolls his eyes with an amused grin that swiftly transitioned into a mischievous smirk. “You look like Jar Jar,” he mumbles.

You let out a playful, offended gasp. “Oh yeah? You look like Jabba the Hut.”

His head turned directly towards you and let out a exaggerated gasp as well. “Fuck you, you look like Yoda!”

“And you look like that fucking gremlin-looking piece of shit that’s Jabba’s pet!”

“Yeah, well, you look like—”

This continued a little longer until the both of you got too tired, unable to think of any more ugly Star Wars characters to compare each other to—which then resulted in a peaceful truce.

Your fingers proceeded to play with Derek’s curls as you took a bite of your ice cream, then letting your head rest on his shoulder. With this action, however, you suddenly thought about the night before and how things had led up to that event.

“Hey, are there any sex scenes in this?” You ask quietly, feeling his short strands of hair tangle loosely around your fingers.

He scoffs with a slight grin. “It’s a fucking Star Wars movie.”

You two burst out laughing. “Right, right, that’s—you have a point,” you giggle, catching your breath. “Oh, thank god, then.”

“Why? Are you that against having a repeat of last night?” He accuses, attempting to sound more playful, rather than the genuine concern that he felt.

“No, it’s just—” You struggled to think about how you wanted to word it. “I really like this. You know? I’m too tired, I’m very comfy, I…” You nuzzled further into his neck as your head rested on his shoulder. “This is nice. I like this.”

He smiles warmly to himself. “I like this too.”

The rest of the night was quite tame. You finished your ice cream before you finished the movie. Except, you didn’t really finish the movie entirely, because you two fell asleep in each other’s arms in the middle of it. Yet seen through your easy laughter and smiles, you were reassured indubitably: nothing was ever going to change between the two of you.

𝕬 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖆𝖑𝖆

Derek danforth x gn reader

Summary: while having some fun inside of his office, you and Derek gets momentarily interrupted by an employee to inform Derek about an invitation he received to a special event and he wants you to come with him. At a major commercial event, while Derek is busy networking, you encounter a former high school acquaintance who once exploited your kindness to gain popularity. Now a powerful figure in his industry, he evokes painful memories. Your discomfort grows until Derek intervenes.

Warnings: no pronouns used towards the reader. Smut, small angst moment and fluff. Oral sex (Reader receiving), public sex, make out session. Unprofessional relationship. Friends with benefits to lovers. Boss x secretary relationship. A continuation of the other stories I made for Derek but can also be read as a stand-alone.

Can also be found on ao3 and wattpad

Words count: 3100+

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon, and you were in Derek's lavish, well- appointed office. The office was a reflection of Derek's personality: imposing and extravagant. You were busy compiling files and documents for Derek, efficiently sorting through the plethora of paperwork that seemed to multiply by the minute.

Derek was feared and respected in equal measure within the industry. His favoritism towards you was no secret, and while it occasionally ruffled feathers among the staff, no one dared to challenge it outright.

You were lost in your work when the door to Derek's office swung open. Startled, you looked up to see Mr. Westwyld. He was a tall man with a perpetual look of mild confusion, as if he was always trying to solve a complex problem in his head.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Westwyld" you greeted him with a professional smile, attempting to mask your surprise and maintain an air of composure.

"Good afternoon," he replied, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for Derek. "I was hoping to speak with Derek about a large commercial event he's been invited to. It's quite important, and I need to brief him on the details."

His graying hair was impeccably combed, and his suit bore the faint creases of a long commute.

"Where's he?"

Underneath the desk, hidden from view, Derek was there, his presence a secret only you were privy to. You felt a slight tickle on your leg and had to stifle a giggle. Derek was evidently annoyed by the interruption but seemed to find amusement in the situation, his fingers danced along your calf.

You could feel his fingers trickling up your bare legs, feeling them encroaching further.

He's not going to wait.

"He's not here at the moment," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I can take a message for him"

You words almost caught in your throat as Derek's fingers danced higher, his touch more insistent.

Mr. Westwyld looked slightly perturbed but nodded in acceptance. "Alright then. Please tell him that the annual Global Business Summit has extended an invitation to him. It's a significant event, with numerous high-profile attendees. For next week. A gathering of industry bigwigs"

Now, you were frustrated, and Derek could sense it in the knots of your flesh as he caressed your legs, breathing sweet love into you as he began to use his mouth and tongue.

You leaned back in the leather chair from the rush of pleasure. "Ah, t-the annual networking circus," you mused, drops of sweats starting to form on your forehead. "I'm sure Derek will be thrilled."

Mr. Westwyld raised an eyebrow. " Thrilled might be an overstatement. But it's essential for our company's image."

You nestled into the chair and instinctively spread your legs a little wider. You could feel Derek's lips curl into a smile. This was a brand of heaven; one you were enjoying. The waves and waves of pulsing pleasure wrapping around your lower half and making your body hum delightfully.

He brushed his lips against your bare leg down to your knee before proceeding to prep your thighs with light kisses over the still healing marks left by him from nights before.

The clothes and garments that keep your private parts hidden had been missing for more than an hour now, thank god hidden under the desk with him.

It was a little game that you and he made from time to time: you do the boring part of his work while he rewards you for your dedication.

God, this old man in front of you was still talking.

In truth, you barely listened. Your hands disappeared under the table and while your subconscious told you to pay attention, your fingers ran through Derek's mullet, all while he pleasured you in relative silence.

"-it would be a great opportunity for networking and potential partnerships. The details are in this folder." He handed you a thick manila folder.

Your fingers brushing against Mr. Westwyld's while you took the files. "Thank you" the spike of incredible pleasure catching your breath.

You struggled to keep your expression neutral, your body betraying you under Derek's relentless teasing.

Mr Westwyld's eyes lingered for a moment longer, his eyes studying you. "Are you alright? You seem... a bit distracted."

He ran his tongue and expertly flicked the bundle of nerves causing you to dig your other hand into his mullet. Derek began to lick and suck, feeling encouraged by your thighs tightening around his head and begging.

You forced a smile, fighting the urge to squirm as Derek's tongue kept torturing you in the most wonderful ways. A sharp and rather violent ecstasy. "Just a lot on my mind this morning, that's all. But thank you for your concern."

A muffled sound caught his attention, a soft giggle emanating from beneath the desk. His eyebrows shot up, and he glanced back at you.

"What was that?" he asked, suspicion etching his features.

You took the folder and placed it on the desk, your mind racing.

"I'll make sure he gets it" you assured Mr. Westwyld, avoiding the question he made while trying to maintain your professionalism despite the distracting sensations under the desk.

Derek's hand shot out from beneath the desk, fingers wiggling like a spider. He grabbed your ankle, and you stifled a yelp. Derek's touch was electric, and you struggled to maintain your composure.

Another sharp and semi-stifled moan escaped through your tight lips as you shuffled in the chair again, sliding back into its curve as Derek encroached further, holding your thighs deep into the curve of your rear and squeezing lovingly.

His face was again between your thighs, his facial air tickling you while his mouth did all the work.

Mr. Westwyld seemed satisfied with your response, although he lingered for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on you. "Thank you," he said finally, turning to leave.

You nodded, focusing on maintaining your composure as Derek's mouth and fingers continued their playful but torturous exploration.

As the door closed behind him, you let out a sigh of relief, you felt your eyes beginning to roll a little as you craned your neck, arched your back and let your body shudder in intense harmony. Your hips jolted as you felt the orgasm spread through your body.

You leaned forward, your face flushed with a mixture of annoyance and amusement while you were panting loudly, muffling the sounds you made with your hands.

"Derek, you're unbearable" you hissed, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

Derek's hands stilled for a moment, then he emerged from under the desk with a mischievous grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You handled that well," he said, his voice a low, teasing drawl. "But you know, I love seeing you squirm."

You glared at him, though your annoyance was tempered by the undeniable attraction you felt. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a straight face when you're doing that?"

Derek laughed, a sound that was both infuriating and intoxicating. "That's the point, love. I like keeping you on your toes."

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you love me for it," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

You sighed, leaning back in the chair as Derek stood and stretched.

He reached out, pulling you up from his chair and into his arms. Derek leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a silent affirmation of your bond.

"Here, have fun reading all of this" you laughed while holding up the stack of papers that was now delivered.

Derek waved them away dismissively. "We'll get to that. But first, I want to ask you something important."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?"

"I want you to come with me to the summit" he said, his tone casual but his eyes serious.

You blinked, taken aback. "Me? Derek, don't you think it would be better to bring some of the coworkers to give speeches? Or to inform others about the company's progress?"

Derek shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I don't care about that. I want you to come with me. I need good company. These events always ends up being insufferably boring, and I want someone I can escape with when it gets too dull. You're coming with me"

"Alright, if you're sure."

Derek grinned, standing up and pulling you into his arms, lifting you momentarily to drop you on his desk. "Good, now you have to promise me you'll make sure I don't die of boredom."

You laughed, shaking your head at his

antics. "Deal."

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

You step out of the sleek limousine, adjusting your clothes. Tonight, you are dressed in an outfit that exudes elegance and confidence. Your attire is a stunning ensemble that strikes a perfect balance between professional and glamorous. Your shoes, polished to a mirror-like shine, carry you with confidence across the marble floor.

Derek steps out behind you, his hand resting possessively on your lower back as he led you through the throng of attendees at the grand commercial event.

The air buzzes with the hum of conversation, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter.

Derek leans in close to you. "You look absolutely stunning tonight," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate growl. Before you can respond, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, his hand tightening possessively around your waist, drawing curious glances from the nearby attendees. The kiss is filled with the intensity of your relationship, a public display of your deep connection.

The intensity of his kiss catches you off guard and you pull back slightly, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

"Derek, we should wait until after the event" you whisper, glancing around nervously. He grins, a devil-may-care smile that speaks volumes about his disregard for public opinion. But he respects your wish, for now, and loosens his grip.

"Alright, but just know that I'll be counting down the minutes until I can have you all to myself," he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He makes use of his vape, winking to you before he saunters off, mingling with potential business partners and industry bigwigs. You watch him go, your heart swelling with a complex mix of affection and admiration. Despite his arrogance and the sometimes abrasive exterior, Derek has a way of making you feel cherished and protected.

With Derek occupied, you decide to explore the venue. The place is magnificent, every corner exuding luxury and sophistication. As you wander through the elegantly decorated halls, you find yourself marveling at the intricate details of the decor, the sumptuous fabrics, and the breathtaking floral arrangements. Lost in the beauty of your surroundings, you barely notice the familiar face that approaches you until it's too late.

And then you hear your name, a voice from the past. Turning, you find yourself face-to-face with someone you once knew. High school memories flood back: the late-night study sessions, the shared laughter, the trust you placed in this person. But time has changed him. He's no longer the awkward teenager you remember; he's become a powerful figure in his industry, a man who commands attention.

He smiles, and it's a practiced smile—the kind that conceals motives. "Long time no see," he says, dripping with faux sweetness.. "I've been following your career. Impressive."

You swallow, the memories of his betrayal resurfacing. How he'd used your kindness to climb the social ladder, leaving you bruised and wary. "Thank you," you reply, your voice steady. "Likewise."

He's dressed impeccably, his attire reflecting his status as an important figure in his industry. "It's been so long. How have you been?"

His face is older, more refined, but unmistakably the same. He is now an influential figure in his industry; and his confident demeanor only adds to your discomfort.

You force a smile, the old wounds aching anew, "I've been well"  you reply, though your voice betrays a hint of discomfort.

He seems oblivious to your uncase, or perhaps he simply doesn't care. He launches into a monologue about his achievements, his rise to power, and the many people he's met along the way. You listen politely but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in memories of the past where his manipulations left you feeling used and discarded.

As he continues to talk, you feel a growing sense of discomfort. The bustling sounds of the event fade into the background as your thoughts swirl. You glance around, hoping to see Derek, to find some escape from this encounter. The room feels smaller, the air heavier.

Before you can respond, a familiar figure appears beside you. Derek, having noticed your absence, has come looking for you. His eyes narrow as he takes in the scene, instantly sensing the tension.

His eyes locked onto the man with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Derek" you begin, relief flooding through you, but he's already next to you. His presence is a powerful deterrent, and the smug expression of the man in front of you falters as Derek steps forward, his arm protectively encircling your waist.

"Who's this?" Derek says coldly, his tone sharp. He doesn't wait for an answer, his gaze shifting to the man, who suddenly seems less confident.

"Derek, this is..." you start, but Derek cuts you off.

He steps between you and the man, his posture aggressive. "I saw you making my partner uncomfortable."

The man's smile falters, his eyes darting nervously. "I was just catching up with an old friend," he stammers, his earlier confidence evaporating.

Derek's eyes narrow. "It didn't look like a friendly conversation to me."

You feel a surge of emotions, partly grateful for Derek's protection but also anxious about the escalating tension. The man tries to protest, but Derek's voice cuts through like a knife.

"Let me make this clear" Derek says, his voice low and dangerous. "You stay away from my partner. You don't even know what I could do to you with a simple phone call"

The man's face pales, and he stumbles over his words. "I didn't mean any harm. I swear. I was just-"

"Just leaving" Derek finishes for him. "Now"

The man nods quickly muttering a hasty apology before turning and walking away, his shoulders hunched in defeat.

Derek turns his attention to you.

"Let's go," he says, guiding you away from the encounter. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking back, deeply hoping this will truly be the last time you see him.

Derek leads you to a secluded area, away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Once you're alone, he pulls you into his arms, his lips seeking yours in a fervent kiss. You respond, but he quickly senses that something is amiss. He pulls back, his eyes searching yours.

"What's wrong? Is it really for that guy?" he asks looking at you with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"You really let that guy get to you, huh?" he begins, his tone dripping with condescension. "Listen, you shouldn't waste your time or energy caring about what others think."

You shift uncomfortably, not sure how to respond. Derek's words, though harsh, have a strange allure. There's a part of you that wants to believe him, to embrace his indifference to others' opinions.

"You see." Derek continues, his voice softening just a fraction, "you're with me now. That makes you more powerful than you've ever been. People are irrelevant now. They don't matter."

He leans closer, his eyes narrowing. "By being by my side, you're now in a whole new level. You have the power to do whatever you want"

You feel a strange sense of reassurance, a flicker of newfound confidence.

"So, next time you see that loser," Derek concludes, standing up and straightening his light green suit. "remember who you are now"

Derek's words hang in the air, heavy with his characteristic arrogance. Yet, there's an undeniable truth in what he says. "And remember who you're with" he concluded his last sentence with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

A bubble of laughter escaped from your lips , feeling a surge of gratitude and love for the man who stands by your side. As he holds you, you can feel the weight of the past lifting, replaced by a renewed sense of determination and self-worth.

"And who knows," Derek adds with a mischievous glint in his eye, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he started to walk with you tight against him "maybe we can come up with a plan to sabotage his industry. Just for fun."

"I'd like that," you reply, your spirits lifting as you laughed with him. Together, you and Derek leave the event, the limousine awaits.

As soon as the door closes behind you both, Derek's demeanor shifts. He nonchalantly instructs the driver to take you to his residence. Then, without wasting a moment, he turns to you, his eyes dark with intensity. He pulls you close and starts to kiss you possessively, his lips demanding and urgent.

Between kisses, he whispers fiercely, "You don't need to think of that man when you have me." His words are a mixture of reassurance and possession. "That man made the wrong enemy," he continues, his breath hot against your skin.

His kisses deepen, each one more passionate and fervent than the last. "You're mine," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "Only mine."

Each touch, each kiss, erases the dullness of the evening and the discomfort from the man's attention. Derek's presence consumes you, his possessiveness both thrilling and comforting. The limousine glides through the city streets, but inside, it's as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. Derek's kisses become more urgent, his whispers more fervent.

Each kiss, each whispered word, fills you with a sense of security and belonging. Derek's possessiveness, rather than feeling oppressive, makes you feel cherished and safe. He holds you close, his kisses never ceasing.

By the time you arrive at his residence, your mind is consumed with Derek, all thoughts of the man at the party and the tedious event completely erased. He helps you out of the car, his arm wrapped securely around you, leading you inside with a sense of purpose.

In the privacy of his home, Derek continues to show you how much he desires you, his actions speaking louder than any words. His kisses and whispered promises create a sense of security and belonging, making you feel cherished and protected.

As you rest in his embrace, you know that you're exactly where you belong.

Note: I really enjoyed writing this and love how it turned out, let me know if you also like had fun reading this <3

The Extent of All My Worthless Rage

Had fun with this one! Idk why I write for Derek so much he's just such a funny guy! There's a tiny little smut scene at the end of this one after the red divider.

Pairing: Derek Danforth x gn!Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Summary: you and your old boss, Derek, used to be extremely close. Suddenly, a switch flipped and he became irritable and hostile, which lead to you quitting and moving to a similar company that has a partnership with Danforth Enterprises. That was years ago, and tonight, the two of you are going to the same company party. Hopefully you don't cross paths.

Tags: friends to enemies to lovers, jealousy, cursing, gender neutral reader, gender neutral reader description, Reader wears a formal outfit which isn't described at all, Reader is described in gender neutral terms (stunning, ‘you look amazing’, etc.) but certain features (eyes, hair, etc.) are described as ‘beautiful’, smut is vague as well but Derek is on top, kissing, making out, fingering (Reader receiving), penetration (Reader receiving)

-★-★-★-

Derek had obviously known about this company party for weeks now. And he knew that all the higher-ups from all of the company's business partners would be there. It's not like he didn't know you would be there, it's just not something that crossed his mind until the day of the party.

When he remembered this little fact, he had been sitting at his desk, typing up a scathing email to one of his employees. Something about a discrepancy in the monthly budget. He had opened one of his lesser-used drawers, looking for... Something. It was kind of like when you walk into the kitchen and then immediately forget why you're there. He rifled through the drawer, hoping that he'd find whatever he was looking for and it'd jog his memory.

He instead stumbled upon a mug tucked into the back of the drawer; a mug he hadn't seen in years. He picked it up, the interior coated with a thin layer of dust. He blew into the mug to try and remove some of the dust, which backfired and caused it to shoot up into his face. He snorted, a small smile spreading on his face.

You would've laughed.

The smile then quickly disappeared at the thought of you, being replaced by his typical scowl. He looked back down at the mug, which had his name on it written in your distinctive handwriting, and held it up above his trashcan. His fingers loosened their grip on the handle...

...

He scoffed, unceremoniously shoving the mug back into the drawer where it came from. He turned back over to his computer, immediately going back in his inbox and checking the initial email that announced the party. He was hoping that the company you managed a department in wasn't invited to the party... And of course it was. He slammed his laptop shut, going to take a walk.

-★-★-★-

You had come into his office with some papers he had requested you print out. Of course, he could've just printed them out himself, but then he wouldn't have had an excuse to see you.

"Working on your birthday? I would've thought you'd be celebrating with your friends," he muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"Nah, I don't really do ‘birthdays’ anymore. Today's just a normal day for me."

He shrugged, looking over at his desk. "To each their own. Here, uh..." He picked up his mug, holding it up to you with a playful grin. "Happy birthday," he said, offering it to you.

"What a thoughtful gift," you laughed, accepting it from him.

You ended up using that mug every day; until his birthday had come up. He had teased you about not getting him a gift, and you handed him your empty mug. "Happy birthday."

"Hey, come on! You're gonna regift that to me?"

You picked up a sharpie, scrawling his name on the mug. "There, now it's no longer the mug you gifted me. Also, it has your name on it, so obviously it belongs to you."

He grinned, taking it from you. "Alright, sure. But I'm getting you a new mug."

-★-★-★-

The rest of his day was awful. He had procrastinated like crazy with planning for this party, so he hadn't actually bought anything to wear yet. In typical fashion, he put it off until a couple hours before the event. Clothes shopping was hell, because he couldn't get you out of his mind.

Would they like this blazer?

What about this shirt?

Should I wear these shoes so I look a little taller?

Of course, he tried to shake these thoughts from his head; he wasn't trying to impress you. Quite the opposite, actually. He didn't want anything to do with you. If he was lucky, he wouldn't even see you.

He still ended up walking out of the store with a suit in your favorite color.

As he walked down the street, he kept seeing things that reminded him of you. Your favorite food was being sold at a nearby food truck. your favorite song was being played by one of those street performers. He rushed home, back to the comfort of The White House. He blew off his mom the second she tried to talk to him, instead racing to his room and slamming the door shut and pacing, pacing, pacing.

Thoughts were racing in his head, all of them about you. Your stupid hair and your stupid clothes and your stupid face which reminded him of your stupid smile and of course that reminded him of your stupid, soft lips...

-★-★-★-

You had started dating someone. Some guy who Derek couldn't stand; he had met your boyfriend once when the two of you had just happened to run into him at Target. The guy was weird and annoying and, frankly, Derek thought he was ugly as hell. You constantly gushing about him was annoying enough, but after he had seen just how... Strange your boyfriend was, any mention of him just made him angry. Why would you date that guy? Derek was embarrassed on your behalf. You were way out of the guy's league.

You and Derek had been quite close after working together for a few years. You quickly climbed your way up in the company, ending up working just below him as the CFO of Danforth Enterprises in no time. You two were practically inseparable.

Of course, that was until you got that damn boyfriend. You wouldn't shut up about him, and it just made Derek want to strangle you- no, not you, him. That stupid, ugly son-of-a-bitch. You caught on to the fact that Derek was distancing himself from you, and assumed that meant that he didn't like you anymore for whatever reason.

He became irritable whenever you were around. Not because of you, but because you were always talking about your boyfriend, which made Derek subconsciously associate you with that feeling of frustration. He was snappy and moody, and that spread to his interactions with all of his employees; not just you. He turned from a well-respected boss to a nightmare to be around overnight. Nobody knew what was going on. But you had had enough; you left the company, going instead to work for one of Derek's most successful business partners.

And just like that, Derek had ruined his relationship with his closest friend, and all of his other friends were starting to hate him as well. He became miserable, taking his anger out on any unsuspecting person who came within range of him. He was ruined without you.

-★-★-★-

He shakes his head, trying to distract himself from his thoughts of you. He has to head out now if he wants to get to the party on time.

Once he arrives at the mansion, he immediately makes a beeline for the bar. He orders a beer, deciding to try and just hide in a corner all night.

Derek is Derek, however, so his plan to stay out of trouble and not talk to anyone falls flat pretty much immediately. He sees his friend group sitting around a table, and he heads straight towards them to join in the conversation.

The night drags on, and he finds himself gazing off into the distance, no longer engaged in the conversation. His friends are talking about some movie he's never seen, so it's not like he has any reason to pay attention.

That's when he sees you on the other side of the room.

Fuck.

He's immediately enraptured. You look... So good. Your outfit is stunning. He literally can't stop looking at you; the way you move, the way you move your hands when you talk, the way your throat bobs when you take a sip of your drink...

He doesn't even register that his feet are moving until he's halfway across the room, and when he turns to look at his friends, they don't seem to have noticed his disappearance. He turns back towards you. You're engrossed in a conversation with some guy and you almost seem like you're flirting with him... Are you single? Did you break up with your boyfriend??

He stands there like an idiot for far too long before he comes to his bearings and walks over to the wall, far enough away to not seem like he's looking at you but close enough for careful observation.

You look great, a stark contrast to his current state: sad, angry, and bitter. You look like you don't have a care in the world, giggling as you talk to this guy. This new guy is much less awful than the first, but Derek still feels a tightness in his chest that makes him feel like he's about to throw up.

You finally notice him, and when the two of you make eye contact, he immediately turns away, speedily walking away. He doesn't expect you to follow, but you do, quickly catching up with him in a lounge near the main room.

It's a dead end. He'd have to turn around and face you in order to exit. He doesn't know what to feel. He desperately wants to run into your arms and spend hours catching up, but he also wants to jump out of the window and run away so he can escape the situation without having to see you.

You walk over to the couch in front of him, sitting down and making eye contact with him. His eyes dart off to the side, his head unmoving, so he doesn't have to look at you.

"Derek, sit down," you say, gesturing towards the other side of the couch. "And stop acting like a petulant child."

He huffs, marching over to the couch and sitting down, looking at you. He almost wants to cry. He hasn't seen you in so long. He wants to say that he almost forgot about you, but he knows that isn't true. He could never forget about you. He could never forget your voice or your smile or those goddamn lips-

"Hello?"

"Uh- What?" He's snapped out of his thoughts, eyes clearing up. "Did you say something?"

"I asked how you're doing."

He scratches the side of his face. "I'm... I'm doing fine."

"You sure?"

He crosses his legs, leaning on the arm of the couch. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem like you're doing fine," you mutter.

"And what gives you that impression?"

"The fact that Jenna says that you've been acting like a dictator ever since I left."

He scoffs, tightening his arms over his chest. "Jenna just likes to start shit."

"Really? Because she sent me a screenshot of an email you sent her today."

His eyes widen. Oh... That email? That's not a very good look for him. You begin to read it off of your phone.

"Jenna, have you never used Excel before, or are you that fucking dumb? This might sound shocking, but it's not possible for us to spend money on advertising and end up having a greater amount of money than we started with. It's fucking subtraction. Can you not do that? Learn how to operate a calculator or your ass is going straight to the curb. Kindest regards, Derek."

He averts his gaze from you, stewing. "In my defense, it was a dumb mistake," he grumbles.

"Yeah, and you would've never treated someone like that when I worked with you. What happened?"

He looks off to the side. "Nothing."

"Is it because I left?"

He rolls his eyes. "It has nothing to do with that-"

"You're lying to me."

"Okay, fine, I fucking miss you, okay? I miss you more than anything in the whole goddamn world."

You close your mouth, nodding. "Then why did you push me away?"

"I didn't-"

"You did! You barely spoke to me for the last few months I worked with you."

He huffs. "What are you talking about?"

"You would shut me down any time I tried to make conversation."

Because he was tired of you talking about your boyfriend.

"I... I didn't realize..."

He didn't realize that he was doing that. He never realized he was making you stop talking to him, he just knew he was happy because he didn't have to hear about your boyfriend anymore. And then he stopped being happy because you weren't talking to him.

"Oh my God," he mutters, putting his head in his hands. "I didn't realize... I... I just hated when you would talk about that guy you were seeing."

"Alex? We broke up, like, a month after I left... Wait, why didn't you like him?"

"You two broke up?"

"Yes, we did. A while ago."

"Never thought he deserved you," he mutters. "He wasn't good enough for you. That's the truth. And neither is that guy out there who you were talking to."

You furrow your brow in confusion. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because... I don't know."

"Because you were into me."

"What? No, I..."

You sigh. "Why didn't you just fucking tell me that?"

He rubs his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

You scoot over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Derek, if you had asked me out, I would've said yes."

He feels his throat close up. "You would've?"

"Yes."

He places his hand over yours, taking it off of his shoulder and just holding it, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

"So this whole time, you didn't hate me? You were jealous of my boyfriend?"

He bites his lip. "I'm sorry for being so fucking stupid," he laughs nervously, looking at you remorsefully.

"You weren't being stupid. Just a little... Airheaded."

"Sounds like a sugar-coated way of saying I'm stupid."

"Coating it in sugar makes it easier to swallow," you say, and you end up cracking a small grin, which he returns.

"At least you remember that I prefer sugar, not salt-"

"It was one time! I never gave you coffee with salt ever again after that."

"How do you even make that mistake? Salt is way bigger than sugar-"

"I was tired!"

The two of you giggle, his grip on your hand tightening.

"Remember how I took a sip of that coffee and immediately spit it out all over that contract? And I had to reprint it and have Jason re-sign it? And when he asked what happened to the original-"

"I panicked and said a raccoon ate it," you laugh.

"And I was like, ‘how would a fucking raccoon get access to that contract?!’"

"Oh my God, that was so fucking funny."

You two dissolve into a fit of laughter, your head coming to rest on his shoulder, his free hand rubbing your back. You lift your head, looking up at him. He's never been this close to you before. His hand moves from your back to your hip, tracing small circles with his thumb.

"You look amazing tonight," he whispers.

You smile. "So do you."

"You look a lot less amazing when you're lying to me," he smirks.

"Oh, shut up."

He smiles, unintentionally following your order. He's too engrossed in just looking at you that he can't find any words to say in response. His eyes trace over your face and each detail comes back to him; your beautiful hair, your gorgeous eyes, your lips... He watches as they form words, but the sound emanating from them doesn't reach his ears.

"Derek," you laugh, snapping him out of his trance. "You zoning out?"

"Yeah," he mutters, eyes drifting back to yours. "Just a little distracted. Missed you a lot."

You give him a knowing grin, leaning closer. "How much?" You whisper, voice barely audible.

"I could tell you..." He says, hand creeping around your waist, "Or would you rather I show you?"

"They say actions speak louder than words," you reply with a smirk, and he responds with his lips against yours, immediately snaking his arms around you and holding you tight. He's finally got you back in his grasp, and he knows he can't let you go ever again. He sits up, pulling you into his lap. His hands come to the sides of your head, pushing your face into his. He seems content with just making out, you in his lap, which is evident by the fact that you need to use the strength of a thousand warriors to pull him off of you so you can fucking breathe.

He's panting, lips separated so he can take deep breaths through his mouth. He's in a daze, his eyes glazed over. He doesn't care enough to try and remember if he's taken anything tonight, but he feels like the rush from your lips is enough of a high to carry him for days. Weed? Coke? Meth? He's never heard of those. He just needs you.

"I'm not fully convinced," you mutter.

"Huh?"

"You said you'd show me how much you missed me? I think... I need a more in-depth demonstration."

He nods gently, barely paying attention. "Yeah, yeah... I can... I'll do that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll... I'll show you."

-★-★-★-

He takes you by the hand, leading you out of the lounge. He's walking so fast you can barely keep up (your shoes are honestly a little too big for you and quite uncomfortable to walk in), bobbing and weaving through the crowds of people. Music pumps over the speakers; some generic pop hit. He's got full tunnel vision on the task at hand, his pace unwavering even as he stumbles over discarded red solo cups and other assorted trash.

When you two arrive at one of the many, many guest rooms in the mansion, he pounds on the door, waiting for a response. When none is given, he pulls you into the room, slamming the door shut and locking it before dragging you to the bed.

He gently but eagerly lays you down on the mattress, kissing every inch of your neck. You let out a content sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair. Encouraged by your hand, he nibbles on your skin, littering your neck with bruises.

Pulling away feels from you like ripping off a bandaid, but he does it anyway so he can help you undress (as quickly as possible, of course). Once you're completely nude, he immediately climbs back on top of you, holding onto you for dear life. His hands trace over your body, memorizing each curve and edge, each nook and cranny.

"I've been wanting this for so long," he whispers, voice lightly trembling. "So long, you have no idea. You're perfect."

"Then quit teasing," you mutter, leaning your head back into a pillow.

"Anything for you," he muses. He sticks two of his fingers in his mouth, soaking them in his saliva, before plunging one of them into you. Your reaction is heavenly to him; the way you suck a breath in through your teeth, your pretty eyelashes fluttering.

He relishes in the sounds you make as he thrusts his finger in and out of you, and the way they pick up when he adds his ring finger. He wants to make you feel this way for the rest of your life. You begin to roll your hips into his fingers, matching his pace.

"I'm ready," you whisper, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. He pulls his fingers out of you, hands trembling as he takes his belt off and pulls his pants and underwear down. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel him line himself up with you. He braces himself with one hand next to your head, the other holding the junction between your thigh and hip, his thumb rubbing back and forth.

You suck in a sharp breath, throwing your arm over your eyes as he begins to sink into you. He pulls your hand away from above you, pinning it down next to your head and interlocking your fingers. While he lets you adjust, he peppers kisses along your jawline.

"Go ahead," you whisper, wrapping your free arm around him. He begins to rock his hips into yours, panting into the crook of your neck.

"Feel so good," he mutters, kissing your neck. You crane your head out of the way, giving him better access to your skin. As he steadily increases his pace, he whispers praises in your ear; you're so amazing, you're perfect, you feel so fucking good...

He doesn't seem to notice what words are coming out of his mouth, purely focused on the pleasure he feels. He grips your waist tightly, pressing his lips into yours and swallowing the noises that leave your mouth.

"More," you choke, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. "Please."

He complies, gripping your shoulders and thrusting into you with everything he has. You see stars dancing across your vision with every movement he makes, his warm breath prancing along your cheek.

"I'm close," he whispers, snaking a hand between your legs to help you get off. It works, and you feel yourself approaching your orgasm as well. You throw your hands around his back, digging your nails into his skin. The pain of your nails is actually quite useful for him, as it helps him try to delay his climax so you can catch up.

"Derek, fuck," you moan, "I'm gonna-"

Your orgasm washes over you, coaxing his out in turn. He rolls off of you, not giving you a chance to get a single word out before smashing his lips into yours yet again.

"You're perfect," he mumbles against your lips, caressing your waist. "So goddamn perfect, I can't believe I ever let you go."

You feel yourself drifting off to sleep. "Well, you have me now," you mutter tiredly, sinking into the mattress.

He smiles, kissing your forehead. "See you in the morning."

Will you regret this in the morning? Maybe. But for now, all you can think about is his touch as you fall asleep.

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 1)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, enemies, enemies to lovers, (very) slowburn, no pre-established relationship, sass, banter, misogynistic & violent undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, overall mature content.

Part 2

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Derek hadn't even stepped foot into his family's beach house, and he could already tell something was off.

He hesitates on the porch, waiting for someone to scurry out and greet him, to take his bags and carry them inside. He waits a minute. He waits two minutes. No one comes.

"Daddy's home!" He calls out to the house as he kicks open the door, a truly unnecessary gesture.

Silence.

What the hell? Did he get the dates mixed up?

Derek grumbles to himself as he rolls his suitcase inside. Where the hell is the staff? Even if the butler had fucked off somewhere, there should at least be a maid or two nearby. What gives?

He takes a quick hit of his vape to calm his nerves as he sets off down a hall, determined to chew out the first person he sees. They should know better than to keep a Danforth waiting.

"The fuck?"

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, lounging on the couch and reading a book.

"Hey, been waiting for you." You say, not even bothering to put the book down and look him in the eyes. That alone makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Alarms are blaring in his head. Something isn't right.

"Who the hell are you?" He snarls, plopping down to sit in a plush chair opposite of the couch.

"You don't recognize me?"

This makes him pause again. He studies your face as you set down the book and straighten yourself on the couch. You do look familiar.

"You're my mom's little assistant, aren't you?" He laughs when he finally pieces it together. That's a relief. Does that mean his mom is here after all?

You try to correct him and introduce yourself properly, with a name. Derek just brushes you off, propping his legs up on the coffee table and relaxing back into the chair.

"Alright sweetheart, care to tell me what's is going on here? Where's my mom?" His tone is sickeningly sweet, condescending even.

"She won't be coming. It's just us."

Derek almost laughs again, but when he sees your deadpan expression, he freezes.

"Come again?"

"Aww, did your mommy not give you all the details, Derek?" You respond, matching his condescension with your own.

Okay, that's it. He sits up and plants his feet firmly on the hardwood floor, making a rather loud thud with his snakeskin boots.

"Tell me what's going on. Now." Derek narrows his eyes in what he hopes is an intimidating glare, then takes another puff of his vape and blows it at you from across the coffee table.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You make a sour face and wave away the cloud of mango-scented nicotine. He really shouldn't vape inside, but you decide to ignore it. For now.

"You and I are going to be getting well acquainted over these next few weeks." You give him a purposely vague answer, just to piss him off more. It works.

"W-Weeks?" He sputters, nearly choking on his stupid little nicotine stick.

"Fuck are you going on about? I'm here to see my mom for the weekend."

Of course that's what she told him. You let out a sigh and rub your temples, already sick of this manchild.

"Well, instead you're going to see me for the next three weeks. Twenty-one days. Get comfortable." You let out an amused huff and lean back on the couch, propping your feet on the table in much the same way Derek did earlier.

That really seems to piss him off.

He kicks the coffee table with his boot, sending it sliding across the floor before finally colliding with the couch.

"Listen here, you little bitch. I came here to see my mom and have a quick vacation. If she isn't here, I'm fucking leaving."

"Good luck with that!" You scoff, pushing the coffee table back into place. Seriously? Temper tantrums already?

You shake your head as he storms off down the hall. He'll be back.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Sure enough, Derek soon finds that his only option is to tuck his tail between his legs and crawl back to you.

God damn it. How could the entire house be empty?

He had checked all the bedrooms, the office, kitchen, hallways, hell, even the servants' quarters. Every time he opened a door just to be met with an empty room, he felt himself grow more angry. What the fuck? Was this some kind of sick joke?

He stomps back into the living area, only to face yet another empty room. Fuck. It's like his own house is mocking him.

Thinking he heard shuffling in the kitchen, he ducks around the corner. Sure enough, you were in there, poking through a cabinet.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on? And why my phone has no service?" He angrily waves his phone in your face, intentionally encroaching on your personal space.

"I told you. You and I are going to be staying here together for the next few weeks."

Derek silently fumes as you calmly take a step back from him.

"Don't look at me like that. You can thank your mother for this. She thought it was finally time you get sober."

The word sober cut through him like a knife. His mom was always nagging him to give up drugs. Fuckin' hypocrite. The woman smoked, like, half a pack a day since he was born.

Though, admittedly, Derek did a lot more than nicotine. He felt at his pocket, checking to make sure the little baggie of coke was still there.

"So is that what this is, then? A fucking intervention?" He practically spits in anger, giving you his best glare.

"No, Derek. You've had an intervention. You've had ten interventions. This is rehab."

He nearly choked at that. Rehab? Seriously?

"And what makes you think I'm going to play your little game?" He sneers at you, and pointedly takes another hit of his vape.

"Don't do that in here. I'm about to cook dinner."

He watches as you casually wash your hands in the sink, oblivious to his hateful gaze.

"Answer my fucking question. Why shouldn't I just walk out of here right now?" He stands directly behind you, leaning down over your shoulder and hissing directly into your ear. His breath is still tinged with a hint of mango-scented vapor.

"Because... you can't?" Derek is gently shoved aside as you make your way over to the kitchen island.

He grits his teeth and follows, leaning on the counter and staring you down as you start chopping vegetables, presumably for the dinner he wanted no part in.

The worst part is that you're right. His family's beach estate is... remote, to say the least. Located on a private island, the only way on or off is via helicopter or boat. He had taken a helicopter, obviously. Boats were for servants. Unless it was a yacht.

"How much?" He finally relents, sighing.

"For what?"

"To get me off this goddamn island."

You just smile slightly and continue chopping away, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I'm not doing this for the money, Derek. Though your mother is paying me very well for this, I assure you."

That answer didn't surprise him, however annoying it was. "not in it for the money" just meant "you have to offer me a LOT of money".

"Two million in Bitcoin if you can pull some strings and get me out of here by tonight."

"I'm doing this as a personal favor to your mother. And I couldn't get you out of here early even if I wanted to. Your mom is determined to finally get you sober."

Derek's brow furrows as you finally look up at him from across the small section of countertop. A personal favor?

"So what, I'm a goddamn prisoner?"

"Pfft. If you want to think of it that way. But there are much worse places to be held captive than a luxurious million-dollar beach house."

"Four million. Four million-dollar beach house." Derek grumbles, eyes glazed over as he stares off into space and ponders the gravity of his situation. Three weeks? Rehab? With you?

"Ah. Of course."

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air as Derek leans on the counter and watches you chop an onion. It starts to make his eyes sting, so he backs up and scoffs.

"It's not going to work, you know. I'm not getting sober." He crosses his arms defiantly.

"Oh? You brought enough drugs to last three weeks?"

Derek instinctively pats at his pocketful of cocaine again. Truthfully, he had only brought enough of a fix for a few days, maybe a week if he rationed and stretched it out. Two weeks was pushing it. Three weeks was impossible.

"Fuck you." He spits, and starts to take another hit of his vape to calm down.

"Blow that in another room or you aren't getting dinner."

He pauses, holding his breath as he considers his options. He wants to blow it right in your stupid face, but he does as asked, turning and letting it all out into the adjacent living room.

"Thank you."

He stands in the corner, silently fuming. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Was he seriously expected to just drop everything and let himself be trapped here for three fucking weeks? He had a business empire to run. He didn't have time for this shit.

"I'm not getting sober." He repeats, trying to convince himself as much as you.

"Why? You're going to go through withdrawals and feel like shit regardless of whether you give up the drugs or not. You can either leave here mostly weened off of them, or leave still mostly addicted, having wasted three weeks of your life feeling shitty for nothing."

God damn it. Why did you have to be so sensible? Derek scowls at you from the corner, but of course, you aren't paying attention. You ignore him yet again, scraping the freshly-chopped veggies into a pan on the stove.

"It's gonna be a fucking waste of my life either way. I've tried getting sober before, believe it or not. It's never worked out." He grumbles bitterly.

"I know. I believe you." You respond, still absorbed in whatever you're cooking. It actually smells good. Better than mango vape oil, at least.

"But it's easier when you physically can't relapse, even if you wanted to. Which is why..." You turn around and finally meet his gaze, giving him a sympathetic look.

"...I was hoping you'd give me everything you have on you. Vape, cigarettes, LSD, weed, pills, whatever you're on these days."

Derek scoffs. You couldn't be serious.

"And if I don't?"

"You will."

Derek grits his teeth, but before he can snap back, you speak again.

"Seriously, Derek, please. It'll be easier to give it all up now rather than later when you're craving it."

That makes him pause. Fuck. You really had this all planned out, huh? He's completely and utterly unprepared to argue about this. So, he just groans and leans against the counter, putting his head down.

"Do I have to give up the vape too?" He mumbles, words muffled with his head buried in his arms.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Four baggies of cocaine, two blunts, and a bottle of mystery pills later...

You stare at the defeated-looking man before you as he slumps over the counter, sitting on a stool. His head is buried in his arms, and you can't help but feel a little bad for him. Just a little.

"Hey, you're gonna be glad you did this." You try to reassure him, but he just grumbles incomprehensibly in response.

You sigh, deciding to leave him alone and turn your attention back to dinner. He'd already done more than you'd expected from him, honestly. He gave you everything in his pockets without a fight, and even fetched the rest of his stash from his suitcase.

He'd convinced you to let him keep the vape until just before bed, since the nicotine withdrawals were likely to hit him first. At least he had that small victory.

You ponder over this while you move the veggie mixture around in the pan, the smell of sautéing onions and garlic permeating the air.

"You wanna help me with dinner?" You call out, looking over your shoulder at Derek.

"Pfft. Women's work?" He grumbles, shifting so one eye can peek over at you. When he sees you're looking back at him, he hides his face again.

"With that attitude, you'll be making your own meals." You scold him softly, but can't bring yourself to really lay into him. He looks like he's taking this hard.

"You know, I only packed a few day's worth of clothes." He muses, finally sitting up and leaning his head against his hand.

"Mhm. You'll be fine. There's extra clothes in your room. Your mom picked them out."

Derek groans. "My mom? Seriously?"

"Oh, please. Like her taste could be any worse than yours." You turn and eye him, taking in the cheetah print shirt topped with a green blazer. It all really clashes with those snakeskin boots of his. Not to mention the gold chain... and diamond earring... god, he's a mess. He dresses like a Texan thrift store threw up on him.

"Like you dress any better." He scoffs, furrowing his brow as he looks you up and down, seemingly taking you in for the first time. His gaze lingers near your breasts for an uncomfortable amount of time, so you turn and quickly change the subject.

"Could you grab me the ground beef from the fridge?"

"I'm not cooking."

"Did I ask you to cook?"

Derek mumbles a few curses but stomps over to the fridge and eventually brings you the ground beef. He stands behind you and peers over your shoulder for a minute while you cook, either curious or bored.

"How much longer till dinner?"

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Derek sits at the dining table across from you, pushing his food around with his fork. He hasn't taken a bite yet even though he's hungry, partly out of spite and stubbornness, and partly because it doesn't look like anything he's eaten before.

He watched you add vegetables, beef, noodles, cheese, and like ten different seasonings.

The dish was akin to some kind of homemade hamburger helper, but of course, growing up rich and spoiled, Derek would have no idea what that was.

"You gonna eat?" You ask, covering your mouth with your hand as you chew.

Derek sighs and takes a bit of his food. It... doesn't taste bad. Surprising. He takes a few more silent bites.

"So... what exactly are we going to do without internet for three weeks?" He finally breaks the silence, waving his fork at you in an accusing manner.

"What do you usually do without internet?"

"Drugs."

"Oh."

Another awkward silence lingers in the air, and Derek is itching to take a hit of his vape. He could, too, it's still in his pocket. The one thing you let him keep. But he has a feeling you'd react negatively to him vaping at the table, so he waits.

"We could watch a movie? Or walk down to the beach? Listen to music? Read?"

Derek groans. "Aren't you supposed to be more fun than this? You're basically a glorified babysitter, right? You're not going to... entertain me?"

He raises his eyebrows at you, a suggestive tone in his voice.

"Sorry, love. I'm here to keep you sober. Not empty your balls."

He frowns at that. Expecting him to go without drugs for three weeks was one thing, but drugs AND sex? What did he look like? A fucking NUN?

"I'm not saying it's in the job description... but surely you're not opposed to a little... recreation?" He tries again, giving you a sly smile as he props an elbow on the table and leans his head on his fist. His other hand waves his fork around wildly as he talks.

"What, do you want me to call up your mommy so you can beg her to fly out a few of your whores?" You blink at him, smiling sweetly.

Derek grits his teeth. "You bitch."

"Oh? I'm a bitch for cooking you dinner?"

"No, you're a bitch for not wanting to..." He trails off, realizing how stupid he sounds.

Damn infuriating woman. He stands and stomps upstairs to go unpack his things, and take as many hits of his vape as possible before you inevitably take it away.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You watch him leave with a grimace. Well, that went... well?

At the very least, he agreed to try and be sober for the three weeks. You'd work on his lack of cooperation skills later.

You stare down at his half-eaten plate of food. He is not going to like it when you reveal to him he actually has to do chores.

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Author's note: Sorry if this chapter dragged on! I tried to edit it down, but I really wanted to get the general plot set up in one part. We'll get to the more... juicy stuff later. This is going to be more of a slowburn than my last fic, so buckle up!!

Also sorry most of it is in Derek's POV? Do you guys like that?? His internal monologue is just too funny and deranged not to show

Part 2

Sorry this idea has been in my head all day about Derek smut😭

Like image showing Derek what you wanna buy and he makes you suck him off because “nothing comes for free”❗️

love it. here’s derek x reader oral oneshot

mentions - oral sex on character, public restroom sexual activities, gender neutral reader no specific pronouns or genitalia mentioned. reader uses a purse

“free? no such thing baby…”

derek danforth x reader smut oneshot

you and derek are fuckbuddies mainly. he calls you- well, somebody calls somebody, and you get it done. recently you’ve been going out with derek in public which is something that’s unheard of. he takes you to a shopping outlet after you mentioned it, not knowing how to show his affection unless it’s with money. but you know better than to ask for something from derek danforth….

you walk around the area, filled with boutiques and shops owned mainly locally, but some more high end. you walk into a louis vitton outlet, derek’s hand in yours, and you walk around. mainly window shopping until a bag catches your eye…

the most beautiful lv boulogne bag you’ve ever laid your eyes on. you try it on, and love how it looks against your body…only problem is that the price is 2,800. derek catches you staring at it and he laughs quietly to himself, seeing how enamored you are with the purse.

he looks at you with his big brown eyes and says “you want it, huh?” with a smirk on his face. you nod eagerly and stare into his eyes. he laughs and says “well you wanna know how you get what you want baby?”

“how?” you ask, eyes filled with light from the skylight in the building. his freckles stand out so well right now…he looks absolutely beautiful in this lighting.

“you gotta suck me for it baby. no such thing as a free lunch” he whispers, his hand gently moving towards your cheek. he rubs his thumb along your bottom lip as he waits for your answer

“where’s the bathroom?” you ask him. he smiles and takes your hand, leading you to the restroom. knock, making sure it was vacant. it’s a single-person public bathroom, you both enter and lock the door. derek unzips his green slacks and pulls them down to his knees. his boxer briefs are dark green and white plaid. you get on your knees and tug his boxers down below his balls, his hard cock springing out of their restraint.

you wrap your lips around his tip and lick the slit, gathering his salty precum on your tongue. the taste making you moan with your mouth full. he moans softly and grips your hair, slowly pushing your head to engulf him fully. you slowly emerge his dick into your mouth. you bob your head as his dick slides down your throat, his precum creating its own lube to glide down.

you take him fully, the sensation of your mouth staying open causing your eyes to become wet and irritated but who cares you’re sucking the presidents son off and getting a designer purse. he groans your name breathlessly and whispers words of encouragement, his hand stays on the back of your head rubbing circles along your scalp and most likely fucking up your hair.

you know you’re doing well when his dick twitches and his moans become more sloppy, as do his movements. his moans become unashamedly louder and more frequent.

“oh- oh fuck…fuck…fucking hell” he says. suddenly he comes down your throat causing you to moan from surprise. his release is salty and warm going down and you can’t help but feel your eyes roll back as the taste consumes you. as his member starts to soften you lick it clean before letting it out of your mouth.

you stand up and brush the dirt off of your pants. you meet his flushed face and fucked-out eyes and you smile, gently kissing his lips before helping his pants back up.

you wash your hands in the sink as does he, then you both walk out, hand in hand. “what purse did you want again?” he asks, completely infatuated with you.

you’re definitely getting a new purse and the best fucking head of your life tonight.

because i just watched the beekeeper and im obsessing over josh’s character.

contains: brief nsfw nothing too detailed!!

derek danforth who will lay his head on your lap, shoes on the expensive sofa, whining for you to play with his hair whenever he’s feeling overwhelmed. ofc you comply.

derek danforth who most definitely has a nipple piercing.

derek danforth who loves to pull your hair whenever you guys are fucking. he loves to have his fingers tangled up in your hair, tugging at it to hear you whine.

derek danforth who gets jealous easily. whenever you guys are out at parties he has to have you by his side at all times. he pulls you closer to him, his arm always wrapped around your waist.

derek danforth who will glare at whoever’s looking at you for a little too long. “that guy’s looking at you.” he says, jaw clenched while he glares across the room at the guy. you grab his arm, barely even glancing the man who’s been checking you out. “don’t worry. i only have eyes for you.” you whisper in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. he makes sure the guy is still looking at you when he grabs your jaw and pulls you in for a rough, lustful kiss.

derek danforth who will then pull you into a room to fuck you. he’ll make sure to mark you, leaving hickies all over your neck and collar bones in hopes that that’ll stop anyone else from staring at you.

derek danforth who makes sure that the guy who was checking you out notices all the marks he’s left you, grinning at him before pulling you away from the guy’s view.

rewatching the beekeeper omg… save me evil white boy with a mullet… save me…