#ceo derek | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freak-accident419 · 3 months

Text

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.

269 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year

Text

m.list - aaron hotchner (cont.)

masterlist #1 / masterlist #2

making birthday breakfast for hotch with jack

working through a miscarriage with hotch

perv!hotch | 2

stepdad!hotch | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

dbf!hotch | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

your love language is physical touch

sub!hotch

hotch saves you from a bad date

hotch scrubs your blood off the wall

kinktober with hotch

hotch runs you a bath

going to an amusement park with the team

hotch brings you breakfast

you scare yourself at night and hotch comforts you

the BAU plays truth or dare

hotch ignores you while you ride him

hotch + 'who did this to you?'

mafia!hotch

hotch thinks about having a kid with you

you figure out a quick way to end an argument with hotch

hotch is sweet on pregnant!reader

showing hotch around your hometown

you have hotch's initials tattooed on you

professor!hotch | 2

leaving lipstick stains on hotch

visiting hotch at work

hotch + casual dominance

demon!hotch

hunter!hotch

taking care of hotch

hotch doesn't know why you sleep on a towel

hotch throws you a 'welcome back' party

king!hotch

dad!hotch | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

dilf!hotch

you really like having hotch's kids

camboy!hotch

baking christmas cookies with the BAU

sharing your snacks with hotch

touch starved!hotch

hotch x bimbo!reader

firefighter!hotch | 2

hotch x touch starved!reader

your daughter loves hotch

hotch + somnophilia

CEO!hotch

doctor!hotch x nurse!reader

lumberjack!hotch

derek finds out you and hotch are seeing each other

giving hotch a massage in front of the team

hotch protects you

you tell hotch you love him

you faint at headquarters and hotch drives you home

hotch dresses to your taste

hotch x cat hybrid!reader | 2

hotch celebrates Hanukkah with you

you accidentally cut yourself and hotch takes care of you

oral cockwarming with hotch

hotch takes care of you when you're sick

you're insatiable and hotch can barely keep up

penelope and derek visit hotch and meet you

the perks of working with your boyfriend, hotch

drunk hotch is handsy

1K notes · View notes

softspiderling · 4 months

Text

elle’s archive

-ˏˋ. stiles stilinski ˊˎ-

we always find a way (to make it out alive) ➵ beacon hills holds a lot of bad memories for you. you’re still not sure how you let yourself be persuaded to go back.

-ˏˋ. derek hale ˊˎ-

but I need your lips on mine ➵ derek hale is a mystery you have yet to solve

How You Get The Girl ➵ it’s been six months since Derek stopped replying to your texts, so why was he suddenly standing in front of your door?

-ˏˋ. jake "hangman" seresin ˊˎ-

જ⁀➴ drabbles

how you first met (and how you became more)

you’re dating (but no one knows)

you’re married (but in secret)

you pick him up from the airport

જ⁀➴fics

songs about girls (like you) ➵ Jake has finally returned from his mission.

how do you love somebody else? ➵ the one where you and Jake are exes.

get like me ➵ the one where you defend Jake’s honor.

five kisses ➵ five kisses with Jake

never knew (that I could fall so hard) ➵ You and Jake are friends. Just friends

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ── wingman's best friend universe ── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

all the fics below are part of the same universe, but can be read as stand-alone fics!

hooked from hour one ➵ the one where you share a mutual friend, but are unaware of it

baby, you down? ➵ your best friend is a naval aviator, but apparently so is the guy you’ve been dating? Yeah, funny how life works.

cruel existence ➵ you get hurt at work and Jake spirals

-ˏˋ. bradley "rooster" bradshaw ˊˎ-

જ⁀➴ drabbles

you're married (but in secret)

જ⁀➴fics

summer days (drifting away) ➵ Bradley bumped into you at the beach and then just keeps doing it

speak now (or forever hold your peace) ➵ it’s supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

cross my heart (hope to die) ➵ it’s easy to fall in love with Rooster. It’s a bit harder to be in love with him.

-ˏˋ. natasha "phoenix" trace ˊˎ-

you're married but in secret

-ˏˋ. pete "maverick" mitchell ˊˎ-

he likes you (but in an annoying way)

do you believe in love at first sight (or should I walk by again) ➵ the one where you keep running into Maverick.

-ˏˋ. tom holland ˊˎ-

you mocha me crazy ➵ an encounter at a coffee shop leaves you with more than a cup full of coffee

summer days ➵ it’s just one of those rare summer mornings. They were Tom’s favorite

five signs you’re too close to your boss ➵ you liked being the personal assistant of the CEO of Holland Enterprises. But sometimes you wondered if you were too close to your boss.

dance your worries away ➵ when you signed up for a beginners ballroom dancing class with your boyfriend, you hadn’t expected to be standing without a dancing partner. But then again, life has a funny way of working out

things you left unsaid ➵ having casual sex with Tom despite having feelings for him? What could go wrong?

put in love and don’t give up ➵ honestly, you never pegged Tom for the kind of guy that ghosts people, but here you are. Ghosted.

will you find me (afterlife) ➵ the five stages of grief start with denial and it didn’t seem like Tom was going leave that stage anytime soon.

honest feelings and bad timing | Teaser | One | Two ➵ It’s always been you, Tom and Harrison. A package deal. But sometimes things change.

swanky fortune ➵ when you clicked the ‘donate’ button on the GoFundMe page, you never would have expected to actually win. But are you going to take advantage of the opportunity or will you embarrass yourself in front of your celebrity crush?

of broken promises and heartbreak ➵ It’s been six years since you and Tom broke up, six years since you’ve last seen each other. A lot has happened, Tom got insanely famous, making countless billion dollar movies, attending one red-carpet event after the other. But now he was attending one event, he wasn’t sure he was ready for. Your wedding. And he wasn’t attending as your groom.

-ˏˋ. peter parker ˊˎ-

need a ride? ➵ just because you were at a country club, doesn’t mean you had to behave well

Talk To A Stranger! ➵ you liked talking to strangers. Well, when it’s not in real life, that is.

no air ➵ Short breath, panic flooding through the veins, sweat trickling down the sides. Peter knew the symptoms of a panic attack just all too well after a fight with a certain villain from space. Didn’t mean he knew how to prevent them, though. Luckily, you were by his side to help.

heavy burden ➵ you liked to live your life like you want it, but there was always someone who stood in the way of that. Always.

#stiles stilinski #derek hale #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #tom holland #peter parker #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #stiles x reader #derek hale x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader

212 notes · View notes

jqhotchner · 5 months

Text

quest

three

when emily received your phone call she knew immediately she had to inform jj. telling her everything. from where you’ve been this entire time to why you’re in jail.

jj was shocked and a bit pissed she kept this from her. she was close to you as well. but she understood why. she would not agree with you keeping your pregnancy away from hotch and constantly tell you that.

but now she had to tell the team. she knew she’d have to inform hotch first before they flew to houston texas and figure out why they’ve arrested you for a crime they know you could never commit.

jj sighs as she walks to hotches office and knocks. “come in.”

jj gives him a look and he knew they have a case.

“ill inform the team.”

“wait! this isn’t just some case hotch. it’s about yn.”

hotch heart starts to beat out of his chest. what could this be about? were you okay? where exactly were you this whole time? had you been alive? fuck! he hoped the last thing you remembered wasn’t him cheating. he couldn’t bare that.

“just—just tell me she’s alive jj?!”

“she’s alive.”

he breaths a sigh of relief.

“but she was arrested for murder charges last night. she’s currently in houston texas.”

“murder?! we know she didn’t do this!”

“yes! we know her well. but she was near the body, blood all over her clothes, and the weapon had her fingerprints on it. she looks good for the crime.”

“what do we know?!”

“we should get the team together and discuss. but first there’s something else you should know.”

“this is insane! yn won’t hurt a fly! how could they possibly believe she’s the killer?!” derek shakes his head.

“guys! we gotta focus. we all care about yn but she needs our help more than anything. penelope what have you found on the victim?”

“oh, yes sir. robert kelp. he’s the ceo of a dna company. he has helped many families find so many lost loved ones. he’s donated to plenty of charities to stop human trafficking and even helped sex workers get back on their feet if needed. oh. he was a very kind man. says he’s—oh, sir. it says that he started the business because long ago he’s fallen in love but was sent to afghanistan. his lover at the time let him know she was pregnant but lost the baby. when he got home he tried to find her. after years of searching he found out she ended her life though her father. she couldn’t take the lost of her baby.”

“could you find any records of the woman, baby girl?”

“um—i found her name. sarah wilson. but—”

“what is it?”

“there’s no death certificate. and—oh, god!”

“what? what is it p?”

“sarah jones. currently married to a darius y/l/n.”

“that’s—”

“holy shit!”

i love leaving you all in suspense!

anyway i got a person on my taglist for stone cold.

please let me know if you want to be added or unadded <3

taglist:

@ivebeenthearchersstuff

#aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch #hotch x black reader #aaron hotchner x black!reader #Spotify

143 notes · View notes

stereklyrics · 1 year

Text

Supernatural is still a thing and hidden but...What about CEO Derek being married and with kids but no one knows with who, they just see the ring on Derek's finger but no one ever saw a picture or whatever to really prove he's married, so a rumor starts that Derek only wears a ring to avoid people asking him out. When Stiles hears the rumors because Laura and Cora told him, he can't stop teasing Derek about it and their kids don't help at all 'cause aunt Laura and aunt Cora told them the rumors that are going on in the office as well. Derek is just like "Why my husband and my kids hate me?!"

Derek makes everything he can to prove his family is real and not make believe. People still don't believe it's real though. But one day Stiles comes to the office with the kids saying "I'm gonna work with wofsbane today, so it isn't safe to keep the kids around. Even Lyds is leaving her and Ally's kids with Ally, even though they're not wolves." Derek sighs and says "Allison couldn't take care of our kids as well?" to which Stiles replies "Oh, she could, but aren't you trying to prove that we're real? So having the kids around might prove it." Derek just looks at his husband and said husband just laughs and leaves.

32 notes · View notes

kitchenisking · 29 days

Text

Day 7

Price of Admission by whiskytangofuckfest (trumpetcrumpet) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,628, sterek)

"Hi," the alpha said now, ambling forward with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He was wearing a flannel shirt over an undershirt, and Derek realized abruptly that he himself was only wearing his boxer briefs. The cuffs rattled as he jerked in an instinctive attempt to cover himself. He was used to being naked, like any born wolf, but now, with a fully-dressed stranger looking over him with interest, he felt exposed.

Intruders didn't get sent home with a cup of tea and a pat on the head. That would send a signal that the pack was weak, that it couldn't defend its borders. Even if this alpha wasn't mad at Derek personally, he still had to do something to make it clear to other wolves they couldn't just cross into his territory, and Derek was the only intruder they had captured. He would have to bear the message for the whole group.

Derek gets caught trespassing on Stilinski pack territory. Stiles takes an interest.

Taking Care by PencilTrash - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,413, sterek)

Derek had returned from a conference where the new CEO, Mr Stiles Stilinski, took over his company in a so called meeting where all the white collared, richly clothed shareholders - assholes - voted against Derek. He hadn’t even waited for a final handshake with the new owner. He knew, he’d never be able to fake a smile when his heart was shattering into a thousand pieces. Well, they had Peter to deal with these formalities.

[aka, Derek was already having the worst day when he was hit by his heat, right in the middle of his office]

Be My Strength by Novkat21 - (Rating: Mature, Words: 8,103, sterek)

“I just read about mates. Not much, but enough. Are they really that powerful?”

Deaton hummed and walked over to peer down at the book. “They can be. But it really depends on how well they know each other and their bond. Alphas become far stronger with one and that's why many have their mates go into hiding when a threat is nearby. If they lose their mate, they could lose their minds and become feral.” Stiles swallowed nervously. “Lose as in…?”

Deaton glanced up at him with a raised brow. “They die. Or are rejected.” Stiles felt his heart drop into his stomach and all the blood drain from his face.

Waiting Games by Jerakeen - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,315, sterek)

Being an only child and heir to the throne, Stiles had always known he may not have the luxury of marrying for love. When he’d realized he was an omega to boot, things had taken an even more uncomfortable turn for him.

Omegas are rare. An omega as the heir apparent is almost unheard of.

Which is why there is no wiggle room when it comes to the tournament.

Sweet Buns by skoosiepants - (Rating: T, Words: 17,935, sterek)

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek Hale this close up for over a decade. He looks almost exactly the same, except somehow he seems even bigger and broodier—criminally handsome, with soft-looking dark scruff, heavy brows, light hazel eyes. His gaze zeros in on Stiles almost immediately, and his scowl lightens minutely in what looks like surprise.

Stiles is acutely aware that he has melted butter and cinnamon all over his face, and tries to surreptitiously wipe it with the ends of his sweater-sleeve.

Or-

The a/b/o bakery au with feelings

According to Plans by eldee - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 72,744, sterek)

Five times Stiles and Derek pretend to be boyfriends, and the one time they didn't have to pretend at all. (Or: in which Stiles' plan for senior year is completely ruined by a supernatural creature stalking him.)

Give him back by christinchen - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 21,452, sterek)

Eli feels lost and has seemingly so where to turn. Until a stranger knocks on his car window and demands to know how he got his car!

Drive by orphan_account - (Rating: T, Words: 3,916, sterek)

"Everyone knew you didn't touch Derek Hale's family, leather jacket, and especially not his car. Not if you wanted to live, that is."

Or, the high school AU where Stiles can't decide if he wants to kiss Derek Hale or steal his Camaro. Spoiler: it might be a little bit of both.

hooked on a feeling by EvanesDust - (Rating: T, Words: 2,713, sterek)

Stiles brings Derek home for spring break. Since his dad’s not home, they head up to his room for a quickie. Cue embarrassment when the sheriff knocks on his bedroom door, asking if they're done yet because he'd like to meet Stiles's new boyfriend...

Terrible Twos by alikatastic - (Rating: G, Words: 5,607, sterek)

Derek found himself at Iowa State and loved it. Sure he didn't have his pack or friends, but he was ready for a new beginning. He was perfectly fine being alone until Stiles Stilinski fumbled his way into English 2 class. Derek wanted to get closer and talk to the gangly man, but when he saw him next, a red-headed goddess was hanging off his arm. The scent was different, and he didn't seem to recognize Derek. It seemed like a cruel joke, but something was off. Is everything as it seems, or is there something more going on?

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs

85 notes · View notes

lefteagleblizzard · 4 days

Text

𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖞 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘

Derek Danforth x gn reader

Summary: One stormy evening, the power goes out in the office building. You and Derek are now stuck in the elevator. The confined space ignites a passion neither of you expected.

Warnings: no pronouns used for the reader. unprofessional behavior at work. Smut in the elevator. Boss x assistant relationship. Is a continuation of the other stories I wrote for Derek but can also be read as a stand-alone .

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Word counts: 3000 words

As the clock struck seven, the office building was nearly deserted, save for a few late workers finishing their tasks. You hurriedly gathered your belongings, eager to join Derek. Tonight, you were leaving together, headed for his luxurious house to spend the night.

'To be able to work together without too many interruptions, of course.'

You stand in front of the elevator, waiting for it to arrive at your floor. Your fingers tapping lightly against the sleek, metallic walls. Your colleagues shuffle past, casting furtive glances in your direction. They know, of course. Everyone knows about you and Derek. You don't care.

Derek, the CEO with a reputation that precedes him, is standing close. Too close, some would say. His presence is magnetic, his arrogance almost a physical force that compels attention.

His breath is warm against your ear as he leans in. "You look stunning tonight," he whispers, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "I can't wait to get you out of that office attire and into something more... comfortable."

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, but you maintain your composure. You tilt your head slightly, allowing his words to wash over you, a sly smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"Is that so?" you reply, your voice steady. "And what might that be?"

He chuckles, a rich, indulgent sound that draws the ire of your coworkers even more. "You'll see soon enough. But first, we have to get out of here."

The elevator finally arrives with a soft ding. The doors slide open, and you both step inside, the space feeling intimate and closed off from the rest of the world. Derek wastes no time. As soon as the doors shut, he pulls you close, his hands roaming over your back.

As the elevator doors close behind the last group of employees, you feel a surge of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation.

His presence beside you is a comforting reminder of your relationship, a bold statement of defiance against societal expectations.

The elevator's ascent was slow, a crawl towards the freedom of the evening. Derek's hand was warm in yours, a silent promise of the night ahead. His thumb traced circles on the back of your hand, a small act that spoke volumes in the silence of the elevator, sending a thrilling current through your body.

His lips are close to your ear, and you can feel his breath as he whispers sweet nothings that make you blush.

The few remaining occupants of the elevator shift uncomfortably, their disapproval palpable, but it only adds a rebellious thrill to the moment.

You notice the glances from your coworkers, their eyes narrowed with irritation and perhaps a tinge of envy. The tension in the confined space grows with each passing second.

Derek seems oblivious, or perhaps he simply doesn't care, his focus entirely on you. He was the son of the president, after all, and his actions bore the mark of someone who knew they were above reproach.

His voice, low and intimate, carries words meant only for you but loud enough for others to overhear.

"You're irresistible" Derek murmurs, his hand trailing lightly down your arm. "I can't wait to have you all to myself tonight."

You feel a blush creep up your neck at his bold words, aware of the curious stares from your colleagues. The elevator moves slowly, each floor passing in what feels like an eternity. You shift uncomfortably, yet Derek's presence beside you is both a reassurance and a source of mounting desire.

"Do you remember the last time we were alone like this?" Derek continues, his voice a teasing whisper. "The way you looked at me when you thought no one was watching? I couldn't stop thinking about it."

One of your coworkers, an older man that you forgot his name, clears his throat loudly, a pointed attempt to break the spell. Derek glances at him briefly, a faint smirk playing on his lips, before returning his attention to you.

"You drive me crazy" he whispers, his lips grazing your ear. "Just thinking about tonight makes it hard to focus on anything else."

"Remember the party last month?" Derek continues, his voice low and smooth. "When we slipped away for a moment alone in the garden?"

You shift uncomfortably, the blush deepening as you recall that night, your mind torn between embarrassment and a thrill of anticipation. The elevator's soft hum seems to amplify Derek's words, making each syllable resonate in the confined space.

One of your coworkers, Rachel, stands rigidly to the side, her jaw clenched. She's the head of marketing, known for her professionalism and strict adherence to company policy. Yet now, she is forced into silence, her frustration barely concealed. She casts a quick, disapproving glance your way, but there's nothing she can do.

Across from her, James, the senior analyst, adjusts his glasses and clears his throat, a futile attempt to break the tension. He shoots a look at Derek, then at you, but ultimately remains silent, knowing that speaking out would only invite trouble.

Derek, seemingly oblivious or perhaps enjoying the discomfort he's causing, leans in closer. His breath warm against your ear as he kept talking.

Rachel shifts uncomfortably, her patience clearly wearing thin. She opens her mouth, ready to say something, but then catches herself, Her eyes flicking to the floor indicator as if willing the elevator ove faster. She remembers all too well the fate of a former colleague who had hoan hold enough to criticize your relationship with Derek. Derek had fired him the next day after hearing about the incident from you.

James fidgets with his phone, pretending to check emails but clearly more interested in avoiding eye contact. He steals another glance at Derek, his annoyance barely concealed.

The elevator dinged, signaling another floor, another departure. The doors slide open, and your colleagues practically rush out. This wasn't the floor all of the them asked the elevator to bring them to when they first entered, but they were too eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere.

His fingers tightened around your waist, possessive and unyielding. The space grew emptier, until it was just you and Derek, alone in the descending box.

Derek's lips found your neck, and you stifled a giggle. "Smooth move, Mr. CEO," you teased.

He chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. "I can't have anyone disrespecting you, can I? We're just enjoying a moment together. No harm in that, is there?" His lips trailed upward. The world narrowed to the two of you: the CEO and his unapologetically affectionate secretary.

Derek's laughter mingled with yours. You feel a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. Derek's confidence and indifference to their judgment is thrilling.

Derek's arm found its way around your waist, pulling you closer. "Finally alone," he breathed, and you could hear the smile in his voice. The proximity sent your heart racing, and you leaned into him, your body responding to his nearness.

As the elevator descends, you and Derek change knowing glances, the promise of the night ahead hanging in the air between you. The lights flicker, and for a brief moment, the elevator jolts to a halt. You clutch Derek's arm instinctively, and he steadies you with a reassuring squeeze of your hand. The silence is punctuated only by the distant rumble of thunder from the storm raging outside.

The gentle hum of the machinery was a comfort, a prelude to the evening ahead. But as the elevator reached the middle floors, a sudden jolt brought it to an abrupt halt. The lights flickered and went out, plunging you both into darkness, the emergency lighting casting an eerie glow over Derek's features.

Derek immediately pulled out his phone, the faint glow of the screen illuminating his sharp features. His fingers danced over the screen as he tried to make a call, but the signal bars stubbornly stayed empty. He swore under his breath, frustration already seeping into his voice. Known for his short temper, you could see the annoyance building in his eyes, his jaw tightening with each passing second.

"Dammit, there's no signal in here!" he growled, pacing the small space. "Of all nights, it had to be tonight. This is ridiculous!"

You knew Derek well enough to understand his fits of anger, the way stress gnawed at his patience until he exploded. Tonight was no different, and you could feel the tension rising between the confined walls of the elevator.

Gently, you reached out, placing a hand on his arm to still his pacing. "Derek, it's okay," you said softly, your voice a soot contrasting to his irritation. He glanced at you, the anger in his eyes softening slightly at your touch.

You stepped closer, your hand moving to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. "We'll get out of here soon," you murmured, your lips near his ear. "Just breathe."

Derek sighed, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as you continued to stroke his hair. The storm outside raged on, the wind howling against the building, but inside the elevator, you created a bubble of calm. Your touch was gentle, reassuring, and slowly, you felt the tension in his body start to ebb away.

You always knew how to calm him down.He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment.

"It's what I'm here for," you replied with a small smile, continuing to whisper soothing words. Your fingers traced small circles on his scalp, and you could feel him gradually returning to his usual self, the irascible edge dulled by your presence.

Minutes stretched on, but you didn't stop. The connection between you both deepened in the silence, the storm outside a distant roar compared to the intimacy within the elevator. Derek's breathing steadied, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours.

The confined space suddenly feels smaller, more intimate. Derek's eyes meet yours, and there's an unspoken understanding between you. His hand finds the small of your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel his warmth against your skin.

"We might be here for a while," Derek murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. There's a playful glint in his eyes, and you can sense the shift in the air. The usual boundaries of your professional relationship blur, leaving only the raw attraction that has always simmered beneath the surface.

You lean into him, your body responding to his touch with a yearning that you've tried to keep in check for all day. The storm outside is a distant reality; inside this elevator, there's only you and Derek. His hands explore your back, tracing patterns that make your breath hitch. You respond in kind, pulling him closer until your lips meet in a searing kiss.

The passion that ignites between you is overwhelming, a rush of emotions that neither of you expected but both desperately need. Derek's hands are firm and confident, guiding you against the elevator wall as the kiss deepens. The taste of him is intoxicating, a blend of desire and something more profound that you've both been avoiding.

Every touch, every whispered word, fans the flames of your longing. Derek's hands find the hem of your shirt, and you shiver as his fingers brush against your skin, the sensation heightened by the thrill of being caught in this forbidden moment.

You break the kiss only to catch your breath, your eyes meeting Derek's with a mixture of need and uncertainty. His expression mirrors yours, a potent blend of lust and a deeper connection that has always been there, just beneath the surface. He cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your cheek with a tenderness that takes you by surprise.

"Any... preferences?" Derek asked, breathing in your scent.

"I like the idea of mirrored walls," You admitted and Derek had to smile.

"You do, do you?" Derek growled.

Your eyes widened for a moment, then you shifted to spread your legs so Derek could easily stand between them, then you put your hands on the metal bar that ran all the way around the elevator.

Derek looked down for a moment, taking in the tight, white-knuckled grip. A smile escaped him.

Leaning in the last way, he captured your mouth in a sweet kiss, one that quickly turned nasty and openmouthed, making Derek groan. He slid his hands from the wall down over your shoulders.

Derek groaned into your mouth as his hands ended up on your ass, fingers tightening with nearly bruising strength. Shifting a little, Derek slid his hands down enough to boost you up against the wall, urging your thighs to slide up and around his waist.

The warm body with all its angles and planes and above all, the heat, made Derek forget where you were. All that mattered was the heat, the weight, the friction of your body against him.

And the noises.

The only sound filling the mirrored space was your harsh breathing, the wet sound of mouth upon mouth as you did your best to devour each other.

Biting into your lower lip before pulling his head back to break your kiss, Derek drew in air as if he'd never get enough to fill his lungs again.

Your gasps filled the small space and Derek turned his head, resting it against your shoulder as your bodies kept up the familiar dance. Derek caught the movement of your reflection of the elevator wall.

Oh, fuck... you looked like something out of a porn flick. Your head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open as you panted for breath. And Derek himself looked like he'd landed the best deal ever.

Which he had.

His fingers reached down to free you from these underwhelming clothes as your own fingers tugged down the zipper on his pants.

You closed again as he pushed himself into you, keeping his hands on your knees to keep you pinned to the wall.

You gasped and moaned as his lips crushed yours and muffled your sounds.

One of your shoes dropped to the floor as he thrust into you.

The storm outside seems to intensify, the thunder echoing your racing heartbeat. You press yourself closer to Derek, your body molding to his as if you were made to fit together. His hands roam your body with a possessive hunger, and you respond with equal fervor, your inhibitions melting away in the heat of the moment.

He switched nipples and pounded into you with more drive, his moans now equaling the volume of your gasps and whimpers.

You pulled him up to kiss him again, a kiss that made his brain spin and his heart race and his libido force his hips to pump even faster.

When the power eventually returns, and the elevator resumes its descent, you find the reality of your surroundings creeping back in.

"Derek" you whispered breathlessly into his ear as the elevator was close to reaching the first floor.

Soon the doors would open and everyone will see the both of you fucking.

"Almost there..." he moaned back, fucking into you hard and deep.

Each of his thrusts was greeted by an answering squeeze deep inside you. Each movement eliciting a noise of approval and desire.

The intensity of your connection leaves you both breathless, and you lose yourself in the sensations, in the feel of Derek's body against yours, in the sound of his voice whispering your name.

Finally, as the doors of the elevator opened, you both shuddered in mutual satisfaction.

You could barely hear the sound that came from the elevator with your heartbeat going so fast. You clung to Derek more firmly while one of your eyes opened.

You were relieved to see that the lobby was empty.

The connection between you remains, a tangible thread that you know won't be easily broken. Your legs were trembling as you tried your best to put your clothes back on.

In the hallway, Derek kissed you with a fervor that left no room for doubt. The industry might whisper, might gossip, but you were unyielding, a force to be reckoned with. And as his lips claimed yours, you knew that love and power were your greatest allies.

The storm outside is a reminder of the intensity of your emotions, a perfect metaphor for the passion that has finally been unleashed. As you make your way to Derek's car, you exchange a knowing glance, the promise of the night ahead a tantalizing prospect. The boundaries of your relationship have shifted, and you both know that nothing will ever be the same.

The drive to Derek's house is filled with anticipation, the silence between you charged with unspoken desire. When you finally arrive, you can barely contain your excitement. Derek's home, with its luxurious comforts and private spaces, is the perfect setting for the fun to continue.

As you step inside, you turn to Derek, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of anticipation and resolve. "Tonight," you say softly, "let's not hold back."

Derek's smile is all the confirmation you need. "Agreed," he replies, pulling you into another passionate kiss. The storm outside rages on, but inside, you find solace in each other's arms, ready to explore the depths of your connection without fear or hesitation.

Thank you all for reading. Hope you enjoyed this as much as I had fun writing it. I think the next one shot will be a Mike fluff but, if you want, I could squeeze in a smut scene. Let me know ;)

54 notes · View notes

laurrrelise · 3 months

Text

✧ Assisting the Arrogant ✧

Derek Danforth x fem reader :)

^ (i listened this song endlessly while writing this so i thought i’d include it)

✧ Word Count: 3.9k

✧ Summary: You are the assistant to Derek Danforth, a disgustingly cocky, selfish billionaire with no sense of consequences. After you’re hired by his mother to help him with work and keep him out of trouble when Wallace Westwyld quits, it only takes one glance at the man to see it’s an impossible task. Still, you need the money she promises to pay, so it’s worth a shot…right?

✧ Tags: Derek Danforth x fem reader, super slow burn, mentions of drug use and prostitution, no pre-established relationship, no smut (yet, hopefully), angst, enemies to lovers, somewhat fluff, mature content (esp. going forward), Derek has mommy issues, reader has daddy issues, derek is literally just a sassy bastard the whole time

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You just want to live an alright life.

You had just alright grades in high school. Just alright friends. You want an alright job so you apply to an alright college. You naturally get in, opting to take online courses since your small apartment downtown is pretty far from any half-decent schools. You like being downtown, not in a huge city. You’re only a few hours away from Boston, but you’ve only been there once.

Your parents are huge political junkies. Your mom passed away a few years back, leaving your only direct family to be your dad, who generally sucks. He’s emotionally unavailable and prioritizes work over you. He always has, and it’s pretty safe to say that he always will. However, he accidentally found you a job. You weren’t even slightly interested when he reached out for the first time in over a year, but began to listen when he mentioned Jessica Danforth. The actual fucking president of the United States?

Yeah. That one.

Somehow, your dad knows her assistant. Said something about the woman herself looking for a glorified babysitter for her 28-year-old son, who is, in her eyes, essentially a failure. Derek Danforth, the billionaire CEO. Successful in some respects, of course. However, his worst, and dominating qualities, tend to be the fact that he’s an alcoholic and an addict who’s constantly doing illegal shit, and he’s generally an idiot. For fuck’s sake, he has a different prostitute with him each night and half of the time he livestreams everything to his crypto-obsessed billionaire friends. No wonder that Westwyld guy quit. It might have also been in part due to the fact that a seemingly sadistic, self-claiming “beekeeper” tried to kill Derek after he had a scandal surrounding an illegal scamming company go public, but who’s to say? Even without that whole situation, trying to keep this guy out of trouble seemed like a task that no one would even consider taking up.

Yet here’s Jessica, offering so much money that you would never have to work a 9-5 for the rest of your life to live comfortably. The guy’s an idiot, but he’s got to be harmless.

She proposes the idea of an assistant. You’ll help Derek at work (if that’s even what you want to call it) and discourage his bad decisions in his personal life. Maybe, in her eyes, having a pretty girl with her eyes and ears on him at all times will help him change and wipe her own reputation clean. You’d stay with Derek in his mansion in order to keep track of his behaviors closely and get paid more than handsomely to do so. Even with the scandals, who wouldn’t agree to do it?

So, of course, you do. Your dad is pleased, hoping it’ll boost his position, but you couldn’t care less. You want the money.

Jessica schedules a couple of calls with you, briefing you over Derek’s past and what his immediate future may look like. It’s complicated and, for a lack of better words, grimy. However, it doesn’t change the paycheck, so you nod along and smile politely. Filled with anxiety over her son’s future, she tells you that she’ll send a car to your apartment to escort you to Boston, where Derek resides, in about a week. You make your arrangements, careful to take account of anything that would be important to this huge change making its way into your life.

When the car shows up late on a summer afternoon, you’re somehow surprised to find that it’s a beautiful black limousine, accompanied by chauffeurs in suits who take your bags and open the doors for you. You try to relax, but it’s nearly impossible to not be anxious. A billionaire. With a disgusting attitude. Multiple people quit their handsomely-paying jobs because of him. It’s too much. Yet somehow, it feels like not enough. That is, until you arrive on the streets of Boston, your jaw dragging the ground as the mansions you pass reflect off of your eyes.

It’s sort of ridiculous. Some people just have too much money. Yet, somehow your pupils couldn’t be pried away from the luxurious homes.

You anxiously begin scanning the house in front of you as the car makes a turn into its driveway. This is the one? This is your new home? Where you’re going to be living?

The house’s size makes you feel nauseous. You’re going to get lost in this place every 5 minutes. You pray to God Derek has maps of the layout.

It’s surreal, to say the least.

The chauffeurs open your door as you step out of the vehicle, mouth continuing to hang open in awe. You’re never going to be able to adjust to living here. They carry your bags to the doorstep, waving you a friendly goodbye as you stand in front of the dark double doors. You raise your hand to the wood in determination to get this reluctant interaction over with, but it hovers there. Your knuckles can’t even reach the surface of the door, your nervousness won’t allow it.

You take a deep breath, rapping your fist on it anyways. Your foot taps subconsciously as you try to keep yourself composed. Christ, you haven’t even met the man and somehow you’re already a mess.

The door opens suddenly. And Jesus, it’s certainly him.

His mother described him as “flashy” and “eccentric”. Were those the right terms? Who knows? The dark green and white checkered silk button-up, unbuttoned halfway, revealing his dark chest hair, tucked into retro white flared pants hanging over dark brown cowboy boots. A shimmering diamond earring attached to his left ear, a thin diamond chain on his neck. Dark brown hair with frosted tips, curls styled meticulously.

A cigarette perfectly fits in the crack of his lips, his displeased expression only making your anxiety double as his eyes scan from your shoes to your head. You can’t say anything. Your voice ceases to exist. Unfortunately, his doesn’t.

“Can I help you?” His flat, unbothered tone is annoying, to say the least. His eyes land on the few bags at your feet, his brows lowering in a confused expression.

You swallow, trying to crack out a sentence. “Hi, I’m your new assistant? You’re… Derek, right?”

He pulls the cigarette from his lips, blowing smoke into your face. “What do you think?” he asks, sarcasm overriding any possible signs that he could be attempting politeness.

“I think you probably are.” You try to give him a smile, but he simply crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe.

“I don’t need an assistant. And I certainly never hired one.”

You glance at your feet, your nervousness drowning you in shivers as you try to figure out how to respond. She didn’t even tell him I was coming? Goddamn it.

“Your, uh… your mom hired me.” You try to smile again, and it’s met with a subtle scowl.

“She would‘ve told me if she hired an assistant.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. But I gues-“

He shoves a hand in your face, cutting you off as he pulls out his phone to call someone and slams the door in your face. You hear muffled yells, clearly coming from his mouth by the whiny yet cocky tone that again overrides any attempts for him to sound like a friendly, decent human being.

These are great signs, considering you’ll probably be staying with him for a few years if all goes well. Maybe you could fake an accident or something, get some way to make a situation seem like it’s out of your control completely and quit, but still get some of the money she promised.

This guy is already pushing every button you’ve got.

You hear a final muffled yell, followed by the door swinging open slowly. He glares at you, clearly not happy. You just stare at him, waiting for any signs that he might accept that this is out of his control and let you in.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer. Or, stop gawking and get your ass in here.” Judging by his tone, he’s beyond pissed. Great.

You pick up a couple of your bags, squeezing through the door as he stands there tapping his foot out of annoyance. You place down your bags just inside the door, walking back outside to grab the rest. After all of the belongings you had to pack up on a whim are set neatly just inside his front door, you finally get a look at the house.

Right in front of the door, there’s a huge gold water fountain. Because of course there is. In fact, half of the house is drenched in gold. There’s two golden railings surrounding each side of the large double staircases on either side of the fountain. There’s a gold grand piano in the corner, gold plant vases everywhere, a gold chandelier, and just about everything else was white. Touches of overdone cheetah print are on display everywhere. Of course, there’s a taxidermy cheetah rug on the ground in front of the door. Gross.

Is this all real gold?

You pause for a moment, rethinking your own thoughts.

Of course it is. It’s probably all solid gold. And it was probably “chump change”. This guy’s a billionaire, I have to remember that.

Derek closes the door, taking another puff of his cigarette and dropping it in a (who would’ve guessed?) gold ashtray by the door. He puts his hands on his hips, an annoyed expression filling his entire face as he looks you up and down again. “Alright, listen sweetheart. You’re my assistant. I don’t give a fuck what my mom is paying you. You’re going to listen to me. We got it?”

You nod, hiccuping out of nervousness. He turns, starting to make his way to the left staircase. “Fantastic. Let’s go.” Of course, he could offer to help you with your bags. Of course, he doesn’t.

He leads you to a large bedroom down the hall from the main foyer. It’s beautiful, truly, because it’s not completely painted in gold or animal print. It’s white, simple wood furniture dotting the room. There’s a desk, a walk-in closet, a dresser, a nightstand, a small sofa, and a huge plush bed. My twin size mattress really did need an upgrade, I suppose.

You place three of your bags on the desk as he leans against the wall, waiting for you to run back downstairs and grab the rest. You hurry, not wanting to make him any more upset than he already is, and turn to face him when you’re done.

“This is your room. My room is down the hall, but if you ever even think about waking me up, I will immediately fire you on the spot.”

You don’t even mean to speak, but the words fall out of your mouth like rebellious marbles. “Do you actually have the power to do that?” It’s regretful immediately.

He crosses his arms and steps closer in a menacing manner, leaning in with his gaze locked onto yours. "Honey, I have the power to do just about anything. Who said you could speak?" He scoffs and begins to pace angrily. However, his attitude is beyond irritating to you. You internally refuse to tolerate his behavior, especially if you’re going to be stuck with him for an indeterminable, but probably excruciatingly long, amount of time. He can't fire you — if he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t speak to me that way, Mr. Danforth.” You croak out the words, trying to sound serious and intimidating but your breath is shaky and you sound downright terrified. Perfect, you think as he chuckles at your attempt.

“You wanna repeat that?” he asks, pulling out his vape. Christ, how much does this douchebag smoke?

You gulp, standing with your hands clasped together calmly. “I’d prefer if we kept a professional tone. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not. I’m not your indentured servant. I’m here to assist you and keep you out of trouble as much as possible. Do we have an understanding?” You hesitate for a minute, your eyes still locked with his. “If not, I have no problem giving your mother a call.”

He smirks, shaking his head with a condescending nature, but deep down, he knows you’re right. He can pretend all he wants, but you have the full power in this situation, and both of you know it. There’s only one thing Derek Danforth has a fear of, and it’s absolutely his mother.

You keep a straight face, trying to remain unfazed at his attitude as you wait for him to say something rude in response. However, he just looks at you annoyed, wearing a slight smirk, his vape filling his mouth with mango-flavored smoke.

“Don’t wake me up. Can you follow that simple rule, sweetheart? I’d prefer not to have any behavioral issues from you so soon,” he says with a condescending tone as he steps closer with his head tilted. You nod slowly, your face serious.

“Good. Now, I have personal chefs and maids. You’ll be at the dining table at 9:00 a.m. for breakfast, noon for lunch, and 7:00 p.m. for dinner. I couldn’t care less if you eat or not. You’re a big girl. You can take care of yourself, right?” His hand reaches up, hovering over your jawline as his fingers find the tip of your chin and lift your face to look him in the eyes.

Is he flirting with me right now? Does he hate me or not?

You give him a small smile. “Okay, got it.”

Releasing his grip on your chin, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “If you want your laundry done, you’ll have it in the black hamper in your closet by noon every Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday. Your room is deeply cleaned every day at 4 p.m. Don’t be in here at that time.” You nod again, trying to memorize all of the times. I’m going to have to write this all down.

Derek, with a certain reluctance evident in his every move, begrudgingly agrees to give you a tour of the house. It's clear that he absolutely detests every single minute of this forced interaction. In his mind, he is a lone wolf. He doesn't need anyone. The thought of having to rely on or even consider the opinions of anyone else when making critical decisions is something he finds deeply unsettling.

Most of the time, his stubbornness stems from the fact that he is acutely aware that he's making poor decisions even before he makes them. A part of him knows that these decisions should have consequences, but his pride prevents him from seeking guidance, especially when his status prohibits any harm or discomfort that should be given to him.

And yet, despite his best efforts to push you away, he can't get rid of you. So, he shows you around the house, his teeth grinding audibly in frustration. Each room that he leads you into is a testament to his unwillingness to let you in, but he does it nonetheless, each step a battle against his own nature.

He shows you the living room, dining room, main kitchen, various lounges, gym, theatre, laundry room, game room, bar, art studio, three-tiered garage, maid's quarters, secondary kitchen, indoor pool, sauna, spa, storage room, expansive backyard, private office, and all 18 bathrooms and bedrooms.

It's ridiculous. No one needs a house this big or with this many rooms. This guy probably doesn't even use most of them for months on end. However, when he shows you the library, it's a different story.

Derek is an idiot. There's not a chance in hell that he enjoys reading in his spare time. The room most likely functions just for his desperate lawyers to reference for the many times he's been taken to court. Yet, the library is beautiful, being roughly the size of your entire apartment building.

It has a main level and a wooden spiral staircase to the second level, which is open in the middle to allow for the gigantic chandelier hanging there. Dark wood and beige tones encase everything except for the books. And God, there are so many books. Hundreds of thousands, at least. An endless section for every thought that's ever crossed the human mind. Immediately, you know that almost every second of your spare time will be spent in this room, reading until your eyes pop out of your skull.

Your jaw nearly touches the ground as he barely acknowledges the library. It means nothing to him, there's no doubt about it. He's probably spent less than an hour in this room in the many years he's lived in this house. It almost feels like your heart is ripped out of your chest as he barely pokes his head in, mumbling almost inaudibly, "This is the library." It's so much more than that. Yet, you follow him out as he shows you back to your room.

"Alright, sweetheart, do me a favor and don't bother me. I'll be in the living room." He turns to leave, still annoyed, but you speak up.

"Wait! Uh- I'm supposed to be with you almost at all times… according to your mother. That's what she hired me for. To discourage your… bad decisions."

He turns, pivoting on the heel of his obnoxious cowboy boots as he glares at you. "Do I get bonus points if I pretend to care?"

You just look at him. "What are you doing right now? Can I assist you at all?"

He steps closer, taking another hit of his vape as he raises his eyebrows at you. "Oh, oh yeah. I need tons of help while I’m watching a movie and getting a shoulder massage. What do you think, honey?"

Looking at the ground, then back up at him, you say, "Can I watch it with you?"

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You sit in the living room, across from Derek as a woman massages his shoulders and arms. He still seems annoyed, not even trying to acknowledge you. His eyes are focused on the TV screen situated at the front of the large room, his hands leading another vape to his lips. You hesitantly place your feet, crossed, on the coffee table in front of you.

Derek shoots a look at your shoes, his teeth gritting together as he tries not to blow up at you, your actions seeming like a blatant form of disrespect. You notice his look and slowly pull your feet down, planting them again on the rug and turning your attention back to the movie. The room is oddly silent besides the sounds of the bizarre action movie he’d picked out.

This is weird. You two need to talk.

"So… I’ve never been a personal assistant before. What kind of stuff do you think you’ll need me to do?" He turns his head to look at you, eyes hanging half open with a dazed expression as smoke falls from his lips.

"I don’t need an assistant. I don’t even want one. I really couldn’t care less about what you do," he answers, bluntly. His gaze lingers on yours, long enough to make you uncomfortable. It seems like that might be a goal of his.

You stand up, walking to the large bay window and gazing at the beautiful backyard that looks like it goes on for miles. "Okay…" you continue, "what does your typical day look like?"

He brushes off the woman kneading his shoulders and sits up, running a couple of fingers through his curly frost-tipped hair and continuing to smoke. "Usually hungover. I don’t really eat breakfast. Head to the office, sign paperwork and eat lunch. More paperwork. Meetings. Head home, usually go to a party. Dinner. Escorts at night." You nod slowly, processing this information.

"Is all you do for work just signing papers and attending meetings?"

He nods, gazing out the window behind you. "That's most of it. I'm the man in charge of the finances and big decisions, and I hire people to handle the bullshit."

You sit back down across from him, looking back at the movie that’s still playing. "Gotcha… I guess… I can help arrange your schedule, then?"

He just shrugs, turning back to the screen. "Whatever makes you feel useful, sweetheart." He chuckles to himself obnoxiously, continuing, "You really are useless anyways.”

There’s an awkward silence as you process his cruel words. A full emptiness hangs between the two of you, drowning out your thoughts in static.

You hate his cocky attitude. More than that, you hate the fact that he doesn’t seem to care about anything or anyone other than himself.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As you climb into bed later that night, you can only think about how this is all going to work. And also about how incredibly inviting Derek’s guest room bed is. Words can barely describe the feeling. Comfort isn't enough to label the softness surrounding your entire body.

You wish that comfort could fill your head at this moment. Unfortunately, anxiety and frustration are taking up too much space.

You know those stories where a hero is thrown into a pit with a fire-breathing dragon and has to try and escape but ends up taming the beast and then it helps them to get out? You feel like that. You've been hired to tame a beast. The beast that is Derek Danforth.

Except, it's an impossible task. And the woman who hired you knows it, because he's Derek fucking Danforth.

He’s clearly determined to make you as miserable as you were hired to make him.

You'll surely lose your mind if you continue taking the verbal abuse this man is clearly not afraid to throw at you. But you want the money, and you're not willing to give up that easily (even if it sounds much more enjoyable right about now).

There’s a lot of ways to deal with the situation you’ve been thrusted into.

But there’s only one way that might be able to take away some of your misery.

As hard as it is, you have to be completely unbothered by the entity that this man possesses. His insults rolling off of your sunkissed skin, his arrogance blinded by your positivity.

You pull the velvety covers over your bare shoulders, your brain melting into the pillow as you assure yourself that you have it within you to overcome the challenge that assuredly lies ahead.

It can’t be that bad, can it?

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

✧ author’s note: sorry for the really cheesy ending LMAO it was the best idea i had. i’m violently nervous to post this i feel like it’s terrible but also there’s some parts i’m really proud of?? so generally conflicted right now but i hope you enjoyed reading it :) there will definitely be more (considering the complete cliffhanger) however the length of continuation is definitely balanced on the reception i receive on this (if this was compete garbage i will absolutely accept it and move on)

also the outfit i wrote derek into wearing in this is something that ive been nonstop thinking about, i just need josh hutcherson to wear it with frosted tips and his diamond earring and do a little photoshoot. that’s all i ask <3

✧ anyways thank you buckets for reading this, i hope you have a fantastic day :)

#jhutch #josh hutcherson #derek danforth #jhutch1992 #the beekeeper #derek danforth x reader #fem reader #character x reader #praying this isn’t absolute garbage #please be honest if this is terrible #thank you #fluff #angst #slowburn #enemies to lovers

99 notes · View notes

bellewintersroe · 11 months

Text

Carlos Sainz x Celebrity OC Mer&Der trope… Part 1.

For all those who’s seen Greys Anatomy you’ll know exactly how Meredith& Derek got together and that’s gonna be the trope for this story. If you haven’t seen Greys then it’s fine, but OC is a celebrity hired as a reporter during the Grands Prix of 2021. Anyway, I won’t spoil anything further…

AN- I tried to use the name Molly Ashley as the OC name but because I’m so used to writing OC as Jenny or Jennifer that I kept slipping up so just stuck to that, but altered it to Jenna just to switch it up, so if there’s any errors that’s why!!! (Was going to use Belle my real name but it kinda made me cringe). warnings - mentions of sex, maybe a slow start, nothing too graphic… yet. Excuse my lack of F1 knowledge I’m trying my best lmao

“Ahh there she is!” Ted Kravitz, the infamous F1 grid walk reporter exclaimed, grinning as I hurried in, panting desperately as I scurried into the room. “Sorry, I had to run!” I placed both hands on my knees, holding the papers I’d sprinted back to my hotel room to gather before making it back here in a record time of six minutes. I’d run for six minutes flat- and I hadn’t run a singular meter since secondary school. 20 year old me was aging bad.

“Almost beat a world record there!” Oh my god, Jenson fucking Button was stood right in front of me and I was practically wheezing for air. Not to mention I was violently hungover from last nights party. Sky reporters and the crew went a lot harder than I ever could have imagined…

“Hello! Sorry, I’m so out of breath.” I stood up straighter, shaking his hand as I handed over the papers to once of the producers who needed them. “It’s lovely to meet you! I’m Jensen” He laughed as I attempted to laugh back, but it just came out as a breathless wheeze. “I’m Jenna!” I managed to speak as he smiled, patting my upper back. “I’ll let you die in peace.” “Not just yet! Are you ready to interview some drivers, Jen?” Lisa, the woman who hired me headed over. She was like the CEO of F1 reporters for Sky, I didn’t know how it worked, but I was bloody glad she was here to guide me. “Just about.” I managed to stand up straighter. Nicole, the makeup artist, and Sebastian, the hairstylist, both headed over to touch me up- something I found myself enjoying a little too much. These people made me look better than anybody I’d ever had done my hair or makeup, I was starting to rely on them to make me look human, especially after last night.

“Well your first up with Max Verstappen, he was second to Lewis in Bahrain, will definitely be pushing for first today.”

“Oh yes! I know Max.” I waved my hand, I’d befriended Max two nights ago when all the drivers were out. “Yeah, Max and Charles looked to have a lot of fun with you the other night.” Lisa teased. Long story short, we’d taken one too many shots and Max Verstappen had thrown up over the side of a bridge into an Italian canal below. Classic.

Knowing my first interview ever was just with Max was reassuring. It made it all way less intimidating, even if the interview didn’t go so smoothly, it was entertaining and that’s exactly what I was hired for. “If you win how are you gonna celebrate?” I asked, holding the mic towards him. “You know exactly how!” Max began cracking up as I attempted to hold back my laughter. “Did you know your sky presenter can drink men under the table?” He slung an arm around me, tugging me to face the camera directly. I gasped and instantly began speaking again. “Well good luck today Max!! Wishing you all the best!” He laughed out loud as I changed the subject abruptly. “Thank you!” He laughed giving me a quick hug, “and you’ll be out tonight, yeah?” He asked as I nodded. “Sure.” “Hopefully not sneaking off with-“

“Oh, no, no, no!” My eyes widened, preventing him from finishing that sentence. Last night I’d got home with a man- another driver to be precise. It seems news spread quick amongst drivers and the grid. Max smirked and gave my one last goodbye before I moved on to interview a couple more celebrities lined up on the grid, waiting for the race to start. Interviewing random people there was far more easier than the drivers, when it came my time to head back over to where Ferrari were preparing on the grid I felt my chest tighten.

“Uh, Lisa, who’s my next interview with?”

“Well, just grab whoever you can, you’ve been doing so great at that so far, but next you are interviewing…” she scrolled down on her phone screen. Whilst I awaited her answer, I felt my heart rate increase, as if the hungover palpitations weren’t enough, this was giving me full blown anxiety. My eyes scanned over the grid, seeing two men dressed in their red Ferrari gear, it seemed they were awaiting me, looking over in the distance. Charles Leclerc and-

“Carlos Sainz!” Fuck! Simultaneous to Lisa saying his name there was a quick. “Yes?!” Following this, a body appeared besides mine and I was momentarily breathless, Carlos Sainz. The exact man I’d slept with only 12 hours prior and woken up next to in bed this morning. A series of flashback swept through me followed by a serious swooning as my eyes gazed up to the taller man. A pair of his dark eyes met my own gaze, and I saw him physically react. Eyes widened, mouth slightly parted. His gloved hand moved up to touch his chest, I wondered if his heart had leapt the exact same way mine had? “Carlos Sainz?!” I took a deep breath, forcing a smile as I remembered the cameras were rolling. “Hola!” He greeted, surprise lacing his tone, he hesitated slightly, waiting for my reaction before moving closer and greeting me to a kiss either side of my cheek. I gulped at the contact, the close proximity wafting the scent of his cologne, the exact same one that was plastered over my pillow cases. Double fuck! He was somehow even sexier now I was sober! “Jenna Ashley.” He laughed a little breathlessly as I remembered, judging by the flag on his front, he was Spanish. Duh. “Hola.” I giggled, knowing my face was just as vibrant as his uniform. I could feel Lisa eyeing me up from the sidelines of the interview.

“¿Hablas español?” (Do you speak Spanish?) he asked immediately, eyebrows perking, he seemed slightly nervous, unable to hold eye contact. I didn’t know if that was the awkwardness from the fact the man was quite literally inside of me last night.

“Uhhh, un poco. Pero hablemos en ingles o no les gusto.” (a little, but let’s talk in English or they wont like me). I slowly translated, glancing back to the clueless cameraman and Lisa. I think that made sense, my nerves mixed with my limited Spanish probably made me speak like a child. Carlos laughed in response, rubbing his hands on his uniform. I then went through a series of questions, finding it hard not to giggle with him right in front of me. I was reduced to the behaviour of a school girl. “How are you gonna celebrate if you win today? Or if you don’t win?!” “Any way possible… now there’s no COVID restrictions!” He inhaled excitedly. “Sounds good to me.” I glanced back at the camera, feeling his eyes lingering over me.

“Thank you, Carlos, it’s been a pleasure, good luck for today! I wish you the best.” I laughed, barely being able to maintain eye contact with him as his plump lips stretched into a happy smile. God, he was perfect, tanned skin, Spanish accent, insanely nice, polite, perfect mop of hair, and don’t get me started on those eyes, he had me swooning like I was straight out of a cartoon. “Gracias… thank you.” Carlos nodded down to me and the camera as I flashed him a small smile, stealing another glimpse at him through my eyelashes as he cleared his throat slightly once the camera was turned away. I could feel his eyes burning holes into me, I couldn’t tell if he was checking me out or if he was entirely baffled by the situation. I swallowed the lingering anxiety I felt, tensing my jaw at the thought of him scanning over my face. “Good luck.” I then flashed him another smile to combat the awkwardness as he stepped a little closer. “N-no sabia que ibas-“ (I did not know you were going-) he stammered, but his words fell short when I was being ushered onto my next interview. “I promise I’ll let you mingle afterwards! I’m sorry!” Lisa apologised, attempting to move me on. I turned back up to Carlos, opening my mouth but my words fell short. When we made eye contact once more I felt the butterflies in my stomach, the cliche way my heart jumped, and that knot in my chest tightening. It was all happening at once. “Good luck again!” I politely nodded as he offered me another genuine smile, eyes lingering over my face, as though he was trying to analyse my features. Pffft, it wasn’t like he didn’t have chance to do that last night. Talking about last night… my mind roamed back to the events of the night before, clouded from the mix of alcohol and sex that plagued my mind.

#Carlos Sainz x reader #f1 driver x reader #carlos sainz jr #Carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr x reader

203 notes · View notes

freak-accident419 · 2 months

Text

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.

#derek danforth #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth x you #derek danforth x gn!reader #derek danforth smut #the beekeeper #the beekeeper movie #the beekeeper fanfic #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #josh futturman x reader #clapton davis x reader #gender neutral #gender neutral reader

212 notes · View notes