#derek danforth fluff

[freak-accident419]

Double Derek

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: You spend time with your boyfriend, Derek, before he would leave for a week-long business trip away from home. As a joke, you propose that you should purchase a ‘Clone a Willy’ kit, in case you miss him during his absence. But Derek wasn’t truly against the idea.

Word Count: 4.3k

Content: 18+ smut, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, mentions of sex toys (they’re literally making one), raunchiness, slightly OOC Derek, too many damn time skips, more plot than porn, the silliness is more prominent in the beginning but not so much the smut, penetration (unspecified genitals for reader)

(A/n: thankyou thankyou so much to @g0ry0re0 for proofreading, you are literally a lifesaver ilysm. thank you for everyone’s support and anticipation for this fic, you all keep me going ❤️ enjoy!!)

-

“Uhh… ‘CBD-infused intimate oil,’” Derek reads off the box in a curious mutter, turning it around to examine the product and its written features. Then he looked at you with a knowing grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, chuckling under your breath as you watched the imminent purchase remain inside of your boyfriend’s grasp.

You and Derek, since being in a relationship of nearly three years, had always found several ways to spice things up in your sex life. The two of you experimented with almost everything in the book, be it edging, near exhibitionism, toys, food play, etc. And of course, while romantic relationships overall meant way more than just the sex, your sex life with him was just too incredible to ignore. Jesus, you could go on and on for days about how amazing the sex was.

Therefore, it wasn’t unusual at all to find the two of you inside of an adult store. Sure, you mostly bought your things online, but since you two were already out and the shop was nearby, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to go in. Plus, the other times you went to the in-person stores were quite beneficial; you were able to see certain sizings of different products and got the necessary and helpful advice from the clerks there.

You and Derek had continued to browse through the raunchy products as you walked down each aisle together. And while the two of you were almost in your thirties, absolutely nothing could deter you two from giggling at some of the ridiculous things sold there. This time, however, you suddenly stopped in your tracks and opened your mouth in complete awe once your eyes had laid upon it.

“Holy fucking shit!” You blurted as you instantly grabbed the tube-shaped box from the shelf in front of you:

‘(GLOW IN THE DARK) CLONE-A-WILLY: THE IN-HOME PENIS MOLDING KIT

MAKE A VIBRATING SILICONE REPLICA OF ANY PENIS (EASY TO MAKE)’

“Is this actually—?” Derek nearly snatches it from you with a fascinated scoff, reading over the description on the packaging. “What the fuck? Do—do people actually do this?”

“Of course they do, I see them, like, everywhere!” You cackled, trying to steal back the box from his grasp. It wasn’t the first time you’ve ever seen it, but it does surprise you every damn time that you do.

“Okay, okay, so… So if I’m getting this right, you could basically make an entire fuckin’ dildo at home… by molding somebody else’s or your own dick?” He raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Yeah, pretty much,” you wheeze, nodding at him until your smile grew wider in sudden realization. “Shit, baby, you’d take ‘go fuck yourself’s to a whole new level!”

“What the hell, Y/n?” He chuckled, trying not to burst out into any more insufferable laughter, “okay, first of all, who would—Why the fuck would I want to use a replica of my own fucking dick on myself? Like, if anything, it’s you who should be taking it.”

“Hey, you can’t just say that!” You hissed playfully, still smiling from the entire situation you found yourselves in. Suddenly, however, your eyes widened insightfully from an absurd epiphany you just had.

“Wait,” you began. “I mean… You do have a point, considering that your trip is coming up already… Holy shit, imagine that! While you’re going to be gone for a whole fuckin’ week, I could always use this weird clone shit on myself whenever I’m horny! Hell, it’s perfect since you’ve been going to so many business trips lately!” You joked exuberantly before letting out a delighted sigh. “Jesus, baby, this is so ridiculous…”

Chuckling to yourself, you placed the box back on the shelf, prompting a perplexed gaze from Derek—or rather, as he stared at it, a gaze of deep contemplation. You recognized this damn shit-faced look of his. After all, you’ve known him for years.

“Derek—” you began skeptically.

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” he interjects with a thoughtful finger to his chin before a sudden and mischievous smirk appears at his lips. “You know, that actually isn’t a bad idea.”

Completely dumbfounded and taken aback, you raised a suspecting eyebrow. “Wait. You’re not actually considering… I mean, I was just joking around earlier, I wasn’t actually being serious—”

“I know, but think about it, babe! I mean, hell, you even said it yourself! Every time you feel… needy while I’m out, especially on my long business trips, you could always, well… you know,” he grinned darkly, glancing toward the ridiculous sex toy, “and if you want, I could even call you while you—”

“Shush!” You hissed with a slight laugh. “Holy fuck, you’re actually turned on by this freaky shit, aren’t you?!” It was actually quite hypocritical of you to call him out like that, as you tried to push your own feelings of arousal to the side. “I mean, I’d be down, but… Are you actually being for real right now?”

He scoffs at your remarks, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I mean… I’d be lying if I said that the thought of you being that desperate for my cock wouldn’t turn me on.”

“Really? You’re kidding.” You gasp in utter disbelief. Frankly, you never would’ve expected Derek to be into this kind of stuff, even knowing firsthand that he could be pretty extreme. It was most likely the fact that it was a ‘penis molding kit’ that caught you off guard when your boyfriend genuinely considered it. “You’re actually—Because like, while I was joking, you know, I actually still wanted to get it, but I didn’t know if you were down, or—”

“Babe, this might be the weirdest yet sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever thought of us doing. Of course I’m down.”

***

After bringing home the very ‘unique’ product the two of you purchased from the adult store, you and Derek had set up in the spacious kitchen of his (which was technically yours too, since you practically lived with him now). With all of your necessary supplies laid out on the counter as well as the kit’s included materials, you made it to the fifth step together. The counter’s surface was crowded with measuring cups, bowls, and the other required items as Derek’s lower half had been completely naked to prepare for the molding process. He was actually already jerking off vacantly, a cock ring against the base of his dick to keep him as hard as he could be for the mold.

“Oh my god, I can’t stop thinking about that,” you chuckle as you began to stir the mix of water with the kit’s included molding powder. “That was so fucking hilarious!”

“You’d think that—” Derek scoffs in amusement, practically interrupting himself. “When the cashier said I looked familiar, you’d think that she would’ve mentioned Danforth Enterprises or, hell, even my mom, right? But she thought—she fucking said—”

“Robby Apples!” You nearly cackle, continuing to mix the bowl’s contents after setting a timer for a minute, “She thought you were a fuckin’ porn star!”

“I—” he scoffs with a wide, amused grin on his lips, “Personally? I don’t see it. I don’t think we look alike, like, at all.”

“Right, right,” you chuckle softly, “but it’s the hair. It’s the hair, baby! The curls and stupid frosted tips, I bet that’s why she assumed that!”

“I mean, yeah, but Y/n… I’m way more famous than him. Like, I’m literally CEO of my company—hell, my mother is the President of the United fucking States! Like, how the hell do you mistake me for someone else?! Let alone a fucking porn star!” Derek huffs playfully, surprisingly not too offended by the mix-up. Usually his ego would be heavily bruised whenever someone didn’t recognize him immediately, but he was having way too much fun with you to even be serious about it. And you loved it.

“But, like…” you began with a slight smile, “to be fair, babe, she works at that sex shop. Her mind must be porn over politics.”

“Hey, just because she works at a sex shop doesn’t mean she’s a porn addict.” Derek then raises an eyebrow as he attempts to call you out, “Now that’s just assuming, isn’t it?”

You scowled, yet a small smirk still creeped upon your lips. “You’re talking to me about assuming? You’re—You say that as if you’re not the most judgmental asshole in the fucking world.”

“Ugh, fair point,” Derek shrugged in acceptance and self-awareness, not even bothering to argue because he knew you were right. Then, he paused thoughtfully. “That is a great slogan, though.”

“What, about assumptions?”

“No, ‘porn over politics.’”

“Oh, yes,” you nod with a hint of sarcasm, “The epitome of Derek Danforth.”

“Uh, no,” he scoffs quickly, “money and superiority is the epitome of Derek Danforth.”

You paused with a grimace on your face. “You did not just refer to yourself in the third person.”

“Wh—You do it all the time!” He exclaims.

“Uh, yeah,” you scoff, “ironically!”

Somehow, you didn’t notice until now that Derek was holding his phone in his hand, looking at the screen as he continued to stroke himself to sustain his erection. “Hey, what are you looking at, by the way?”

His eyes went up to you with an innocent, neutral expression. “Uhhh, your nudes.”

“You’re fucking kidding,” you chuckle.

“Uh, no,” he says, turning his phone around in an attempt to show you. “I’m literally going through them right now—”

“No, ew, don’t show me!” You laugh from embarrassment as you looked down at the mixing bowl you stirred, covering the peripheral view with your hand. As sexy as they were to Derek and to you during the time you were taking them, you really couldn’t take them seriously afterwards.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, babe,” he teases knowingly, making you roll your eyes. “You look so hot in them.”

“Dude—Of course I’m fucking embarrassed!” You reasoned, “I thought it was hot until the post-nut fuckin’ clarity kicked in!”

Suddenly, the timer went off as the two of you laughed softly at your last comment. You were then prompted to instantly focus as you turned off the blaring alarm and grabbed the tube closer to yourself on the counter.

“You fully hard, baby?” You ask casually, beginning to pour the white mixture inside of the tube.

“Yup,” he nodded simply, watching you prepare for the molding process.

After you finished pouring in all of the thick molding substance, you grabbed the tube and walked closer to your boyfriend. “Okay, so we’re just molding your dick now, for like, two… two minutes, I think? And you’re just gonna have to stay hard like that and don’t move too much,” you giggle, “I have to act fast, though, because there’s a reason why the water had to be ninety degrees, alright?”

“Alright,” Derek chuckles, “go ahead, babe.”

After setting up a two minute timer on your phone, you slowly placed the tube full of the ‘molding gel’ over his dick, making some of the white, thick substance drip out onto the floor. The two of you already began to cackle, Derek groaning in slight disgust from the weird feeling that the texture of the paste gave him around his cock.

“This is really fuckin’ messy,” he raises an eyebrow as he watches the leftover mixture spill onto the smooth, quartz tiles of the kitchen floor. “And it feels really… really weird around my dick,” Derek laughs softly.

“Well, we were warned about the mess but… damn, I didn’t know it’d be this crazy,” you chuckle, holding the tube in place, allowing you to stand close to Derek’s naked body. “Also, I know what you’re thinking—You’re not allowed to make a joke about how the molding gel resembles your fucking jizz.” Derek frowns immediately as you giggle at his reaction.

Rolling your eyes, you lean in closer to your lover, placing some soft kisses on his bare shoulder and collarbone. You always believed that Derek’s body was so beautiful, and you couldn’t help but show him how much you loved it all the time. “I’m gonna miss you, you know that?” You mumble with your lips pressed against the warm skin of his shoulder.

“Me too, baby,” he sighs softly, “but I’ll be back before you know it, alright?”

“I’m gonna fuck myself so fucking hard with this weird ass thing when you’re gone.”

“Sorry,” you mumble afterwards, realizing what you had blurted caused Derek to become speechless.

Your filthy words had been delivered so bluntly and casually, gaining a low groan from Derek’s throat. “Fuck. You can’t just—Baby, please tell me you’ll get me off after we do this because, fuck, I’ve been so hard for so fucking long and you’re already making things worse with that kind of talk,” he complains, nearly pleading.

“Jeez, I said I was sorry...” Chuckling, you bury your face in his neck affectionately. “Don’t worry, babe, we have so much time after this. You can fuck me as hard as you want.”

“Fuck…” he moaned at the visual you gave him with your words.

Resting your lips contently in the crook of his neck, you let out a small snicker afterwards. “Dude, I can’t get that stupid fucking meme out of my head…”

“What meme?” Derek asked curiously, no longer focusing solely on his arousal he had for you.

“The fuckin’—Your mom, the Jessica Danforth one that they would—”

“Oh, my god,” he scoffs lightly with a smile, amused by recollection of a popular, new internet meme they made of the US President. “But that one is so fucking stupid.”

“Nuh-uh, it’s iconic because your mom is iconic,” you retort playfully, “and those ‘stupid’ memes ended up being genuine, effective marketing strategies towards her campaign.”

Honestly, it was kind of adorable to Derek that you thought that lousy, new generation memes of her was what mainly helped his mother’s campaign. It was less adorable, however, that it wasn’t really the case. If only you knew…

You leaned in, briefly connecting your soft lips with his, appreciating the intimacy of your closeness that this position bestowed upon the two of you. Your kiss had pushed his underlying guilt aside for now, melting in the short moment of sweetness.

“Hey, when can I get this thing off of me?” He asks suddenly once your lips had parted from each other.

You pursed your lips curiously. “Uhh, well, is it hard yet?”

“Baby, my dick has been hard the entire time for this, you know that.”

“No, I meant—” you giggled breathlessly, “I meant the molding gel, has it hardened yet?”

“Well, it feels like it, sort of,” he remarked with a shrug.

“Eh, we can just wait for the full two minutes,” you suggested, prompting that you both should wait until the timer ends.

Soon enough, the two of you had gone through the entire procedure. You removed the tube from Derek’s cock, placing it on the counter as you mixed the silicone packets together to pour that mixture into the mold. Then, you placed the included vibrator inside the tube through the hole of a cardboard cover that rested on the top of the rim to keep it from sinking completely down into the mold.

“We are… done,” you laugh softly, the two of you looking at the tube filled with liquid silicone, most certainly taking the form of Derek’s dick. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but we are going to have to wait, like, twenty-four hours until we can take it out of the mold.”

“Well, shit. I am actually both fucking terrified and excited to see how it’ll end up looking like,” he shrugs with a slight scoff.

“Your dick, but in a glow-in-the-dark green,” you reply with a simple nod. “So… What now?”

A thoughtful yet mischievous grin appears on Derek’s lips as his eyes trail hungrily over your body.

After eagerly stripping your pants and underwear down, Derek lifted you up on the edge of the kitchen table, lips never leaving yours as he kissed you deeply and passionately. He grabbed onto your thigh, lightly gasping at the rough grip as his other hand slipped under your shirt to feel the soft skin of your back. Derek actually used the hemp oil that you two purchased earlier (alongside the Clone-A-Willy), rubbing it over your sensitive groin, then pleasurably lubricating your entrance. “God, I need you so bad, baby,” he mumbles lustfully, pulling your hips closer to the edge of the counter to line himself up with you.

A soft, yet vocal moan escaped your lips as you feel his rock hard, throbbing cock stretching and pushing through your tight, needy hole. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Derek grunts, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you with lust and admiration. And from this heavenly sensation, you had been reminded that he still had that cock ring on.

You giggled immaturely, “you know, I forgot you even had that o—” He moved both his hands to spread open your thighs, trailing back up to grip your hips as he began to slowly thrust inside of you, making you whine as you placed your hands on his shoulders. “D-Derek—” You choke out a moan as he gradually increases his pace, firmly pushing his hips against yours to get as deep inside of you as he could. His cock was so fucking hard, indisputably caused by the pressure of the ring, but also from how much your sole body turned him on.

The two of your moans echoed in the atmosphere of the kitchen, especially as you wrapped your legs tightly around his back, pushing him in even deeper. “Fuck,” you whined softly, feeling one of his hands trail under the back of your shirt again during each heavy thrust until he finally lifts it off of you, throwing the piece of fabric onto the floor.

Your insides had deliciously gripped Derek’s firm cock so tight, withdrawing a low, prolonged groan from his throat as he then picked up the pace. He pounded deeply into you, head hanging low as he focused on his hard thrusts.

“Shit!” You nearly cry, wrapping your arms around his neck as you started to feel more sensitive. “You’re so fucking hard, hell…”

“Am I usually not?” He teases with a smirk, not ceasing his movements anytime soon.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” you panted breathlessly. “The fucking cock ring’s, like, making you even harder than you ever been. I can’t believe this only, like, the second time we’ve ever used it.”

“Are you implying that we should use it more?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Hell, yeah,” you replied with a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Derek groans, hiding his face in your neck, briefly nipping at your flesh. “Fucking love how tight you feel around my fucking cock.”

You moaned at his sultry words, your arms leaving his neck and holding yourself up with your palms flat on the counter behind you, attempting to grind against his movements. “Fuuuck,” you mumble as your palms shifted behind you, nudging and almost knocking down the Clone-A-Willy tube that was still filled with un-solidified silicone. “Oh, shit!” Gasping in a short panic, you held it steady before it could fall and moved it away to the side.

“Jesus, babe, you almost spilled over my dick,” he scoffs with a chuckle, his thrusts slightly sloppy from this distraction.

“Oh, I’ll spill something over your dick, babe,” you joked swiftly with a playful smirk.

“Oh my god, you’re fucking terrible,” he groaned as a mere, amused smile formed at his lips.

“Shut up, I’m not the one who got mistaken for a porn star,” you retorted, flashing a teasing grin.

“God, never fucking bring that up again,” Derek huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I will, baby, I will so use it against you,” you claim humorously.

Suddenly, he lifts you up by your ass, away from the counter as he was still pressed deeply inside of you. Holding you up against him in the center of the kitchen floor, he thrusted up inside of you, creating a strong wave of pleasure throughout your entire being.

“Fuck!” You cried as his fingernails dig into the skin of your ass, pushing his cock in and out of your sensitive hole. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, babe, you might not be a porn star, but you sure as hell fuck like one, shit…” The harsh sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed lewdly in the kitchen as he continued holding you up, and even guiding and pushing your hips skillfully against his.

Finally, he brought the two of you over on a chair, sitting down against it as you were positioned on top, his dick completely inside of you. “Ride me, baby,” he mutters, cupping your face gently, yet pulling you in urgently for a deep, wet kiss, shoving his tongue through your lips.

Breaking the kiss, Derek’s hands explored and caressed the warm, smooth skin of your body, muttering lustful praises to you. This prompted you to begin moving, placing your hands on his shoulders as your hips would gently grind against his. “Mmm,” you hum softly in pleasure before your head is thrown back the moment you increase your pace.

You let your knees assist you in bouncing on his thick cock, feeling his arms being wrapped around your back tightly to bring you in closely and intimately. “Fuck, baby…” Derek huffs, attempting to move his hips up with yours.

This position was short-lived, however, because of Derek’s urgency to fuck you fast and properly, lifting you back up once again. He made out with you as he held you, kissing your lips roughly and hotly while we stumbled towards the living room to finally throw you down on the couch.

He immediately grabbed your legs, lifting them up to place your ankles over his shoulders, nipping softly at your legs in admiration before thrusting back in.

“Fuck!” He groans, moving his hips at a much rougher and faster rate, practically pounding into you with both lust and love.

“Shit, Derek!” You whimper, feeling his cock slide in and out of you so fluidly, stretching and caressing your sensitive walls. From all the buildup of the previous positions, you felt so close already. “Fuck, baby. I—I’m gonna cum—”

“Just—fuck—hold on a little longer, baby,” he mutters, ramming his dick inside of you without faltering, focusing on driving the both of you to the very edge.

“Baby…” You whined desperately, looking up at him as you felt yourself begin to clench around him. And that really did it for him.

“Fuuuck,” Derek moaned, his movements against you beginning to stagger, “Cum for me, baby, c’mon.”

A loud, whiny moan escaped your lips as your back arched up against him, tensing up as you finally released. Your tight, fleshy walls around Derek prompted him to come right after, spilling his warm, white semen deep inside of you, muttering a few curse words before collapsing on top of you.

The both of you panted heavily, struggling to catch your breaths as you felt each other’s sweaty, naked body against one another’s. You chuckle breathlessly, feeling so content from the overwhelming ecstasy that your orgasm bestowed upon yourself.

“So good,” Derek whispered, kissing your lips in a sloppy, lazy manner, “you did so good for me, sweetheart.”

***

“What in… the actual fuck.”

The next day, after it had been exactly 24 hours since you’ve poured in the silicone inside of the mold, you and Derek took it out, revealing his glow-in-the-dark, cloned dick.

The two of you looked down at the new dildo, then looked at each other before cackling loudly and heartily, your laughs echoing in the kitchen where you had done the reveal.

“Oh, my god, it looks—it looks exactly fucking like it, babe!” You exclaim in disbelief, nearly wheezing as you hold the light green, phallic object in your grasp.

“That is,” he began, trying to recover from his previous, hearty laughter, “fucking insane. It’s so uncanny, like… it looks so real.”

“Dude, look at all the detail!” You urged, small snickers escaping your throat, “like even the veins and the fucking—what—frenulum, like… What the hell?!”

“And it’s such a bright ass neon green, holy shit,” Derek chuckled, continuing to examine the silicone.

“Hey, it matches your entire vibe, at least. You know. Green. Money. Ehh?”

The two of you giggled childishly, enjoying the absolute absurdity of this entire situation. “God, only you, Y/n, could get me to do the stupidest fucking things that I would never be willing to do for, like, anybody else,” Derek remarked with a slight smile.

”Hey, you were up for it too,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “I was joking about it first, but you were the one who took it seriously!”

“Uh, you were the one who grabbed it first,” retorted Derek.

“And you were the one who took it seriously when I was joking,” you repeated, chuckling softly in amusement.

“I—” But before he could say anything, he realized that you were right. “God fucking dammit.”

***

Tomorrow, Derek would have left for the business trip, the two of you saying your goodbyes before he would disappear into his private jet. And the day after, as your lover stayed at a luxurious hotel, lounging comfortably on the bed, he received a few texts from you during the night:

Y/n: hey

Y/n: it actually does glow in the dark btw

Y/n: [sent an attachment]

Derek’s eyes widened instantly, jaw dropping at the sight of the diabolically lewd image you had just sent him. Including the familiar, bright green item in the frame, of course.

“Holy fu—”

[janitorhutcherson]

peeta mellark may be from district 12, but derek danforth is from district ATE

[joshfutturman]

'harder, better, faster, danforth' 18+

oneshot - reader fucks derek with a strap-on, he's submissive only for you and only in private. pairing - derek danforth (the beekeeper) + gn reader (1.9k words) tags: strap-on, pegging, dom!reader, sub!derek, degradation, short and sweet, established situationship (lol), good boy AND bad boy mentions (oops another goodboy fic, lets not look into that too much), lots of dirty talk, begging derek, mentions of his slutty little waist, lil bit of overstimulation, lots of cussing, smut!

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you knew derek was desperate for it, the way he looked at you over his shoulder with an uncharacteristic pleading expression. he never begged in public, he wouldn't dare, derek danforth didn't beg. but for you? in private? oh he'd plead and beg and whine and moan all night long.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you knew derek was desperate for it, the way he looked at you over his shoulder with an uncharacteristic pleading expression. he never begged in public, he wouldn't dare, derek danforth didn't beg. but for you? in private? oh he'd plead and beg and whine and moan all night long.

your fingers dance along the curve of his spine, admiring the arch along his back and you feel him shiver under your touch, breath hitching in his throat. "aw, is someone desperate?" you ask, tutting under your breath.

"please." is all derek says, exhaling shakily. that word sounds so good to hear sung from his lips.

leaning down to whisper in his ear, you purr, "hm? didn't quite hear you, my love."

the blonde groans, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself, "please, i want it. i-" there's a pause, as if he's unsure whether to admit the next line, "i need it."

and those words send heat straight to your core causing you to bite your lip. you loved it when he admitted that he needed something. this picture of him, arched and lubed and ready for you, is in such stark contrast to the danforth that his employees saw, that the rest of the world saw.

"then i know you'll take it like a good boy, won't you?" your words cause his dick to twitch, leaking small drops of precum. fuck, he wants you inside of him so bad he can barely take it.

a nod, "yeah," derek whines, "such a good boy, i swear."

pulling back from his ear, you straighten up and slowly press the tip of the strap-on against his begging, slick entrance. instantly he grips the sheets and lets out a quivering moan. wow, he really was desperate for it, wasn't he? slowly, you guide the tip along his entrance, playing with your food, remembering the way your fingers felt in there stretching him out just a few minutes prior.

"fuck," he gasps as the strap dances past his entrance once more, "just fucking put it in already."

you pull back completely and his head turns to you in horror. "giving me attitude?"

"no." he almost immediately replies.

"that's what i thought." you press your hand against his lower back and return the strap to its position, gliding across his opening. derek melts against the sheets in a mix of pleasure and frustration, letting out a soft whine.

"there. . . you just need to learn some patience, don't you?" your voice stings in his ears like he wants to fight back - but it feels too good for him to even think about cussing you out right now. "unless you just want my fingers again, that it?"

derek's hole flutters just thinking of your fingers inside of him, but he needed more, way more, they wouldn't cut it. "no, want your strap." is all he says, biting his tongue.

"man of so little words today, huh?" you tease.

clenching his jaw, derek speaks up, "oh my fucking god please, i need it so fucking bad will you please just fucking put it in please." his words almost come out in a song, trying his best to sound nice but there's still that classic derek whiney undertone.

and with that, you slide in - just a little at first and derek goes wild. his arch becomes more pronounced and his mouth is stuck half open, small gasps escaping. "was that what you wanted?" you spoke in a low tone, continuing knowing that he wouldn't have the capacity to answer, "do you like that? like the way im stretching you out?"

sure enough, derek didn't answer, rendered silent for the first time in his life or. . . well, you took pride in the fact that you were the only one able to shut him the fuck up. stuffing him full of your strap always seemed to do the job.

still inching in excruciatingly slowly, derek attempts to push back against you in order to push you further in. "no." you command, pulling away as he pushes back, swiftly causing him to stop. "bad boy." god, it feels almost too good being the boss of him.

"fuck me please," he whimpers, face flat against the sheets with his ass up for you, letting you take him how you please. "i just want to be fucked, want you to fuck me."

"now what did i say about patience?" you hum, gradually beginning to fill him up, "you know i'll fuck you soon, baby, you just need patience."

it takes everything within him not to hit back at you with an insult, lash out to get what he wants. . . but he knows that's not how he gets what he wants with you. he needs to play your game, be a good boy, be obedient. doesn't make it easy, though. fucking hell, you never made anything easy for him.

suddenly, you've bottomed out inside him and he moans in celebration, finally full of you. his hole pulsed around you, you could even feel it from your hips making contact with his ass. your hands find his cheeks and you squeeze, letting out a moan of your own. this was your favourite part of his body, you thought, digging your nails in a little to the flesh.

and derek likes this, sucking in air through his teeth. he always liked pain, usually being the one to give it, so it felt extra pleasurable when you were the one holding a whip, metaphorically and physically speaking, (just not tonight. . . or, yet.)

he turns his head towards you, his brow sweating, eyes pleading, mouth open, his curls coming undone across his forehead - the look on his face could get you high. and you're overcome with lust. in one swift motion, you pull out and slam back into him with an obscene wet 'smack' filling the room.

derek almost snaps in half with the way he reacts to this, arching his back and covering his mouth to stop the high-pitched moan that slips from his sweet lips. your hand reaches down to grip his wrist, pulling his hand from his mouth to hear him moan as you begin thrusting slowly, slightly, only easing in and out a tiny bit. with his wrist in your hand, you pull it behind his back, pressing it there with another hand on his stupidly tiny waist.

his other hand grips his gucci bedsheets, little moans coming with every thrust, dick rock hard brushing against the sheets with every movement from you.

"this is what you wanted, isn't it?" you coo, biting your lip as you begin to pull out more with each thrust, making it hard and rough as he's thrown into the bed each time.

"fuck yes." derek cries out, squeezing his eyes shut, "harder."

"hm? speak up doll."

"harder!" he yells louder, squirming under you.

and you give him what he wants, slow, deep thrusts into his tight little hole. and the sounds from him. . . fuck, the sounds from him. they fill the room like a melody causing a gentle flush to fall on your cheeks. this was the one time derek sounded pleasant - when your strap was loaded deep inside him and he was too fucking fucked out to even think about complaining anymore.

"yeah, can't talk now huh?" you grin, "my strap feel that good? you like the way i fuck you?" but you know he can't answer, responding in only whines and pathetic moans. you continue anyway, knowing he gets off on being spoken to like this. "fucked by my fingers, then by my strap, what an obedient boy you are for me, derek."

god, his eyes are rolling back, cock begging for release. you can feel he's close by the way he's writhing, angling his hips to try and get you impossibly deep. now you really begin thrusting, all the way out and then in, pumping him full over and over, faster and faster. his whimpers increase in pitch and he begins screaming, "please, please, please!" without knowing what he's begging for.

"please what?" your eyebrow arches as the smirk is evident through your words.

a low groan of annoyance leaves dereks lips and he takes a deep breath to channel his words, "m' gonna cum. . . oh fuck baby please, don't stop." it's tempting, to tease him for longer and cease his pleasure - you had complete control over him.

but hearing him moan was too fucking good to stop now.

higher and higher, his moans climb up and up as his hole begins to pulse around you. this earns a moan from you too as you watch in awe as he begins to come undone beneath you.

"cum." you demand in that strong tone of yours, and that's exactly what danforth does the second the word leaves your lips.

ropes of cum spray from his dick onto the sheets, twitching and spraying his seed seemingly endlessly as his orgasm ripples through his core. he's a quivering, panting, pleading mess as he calls out your name between wails of ecstasy. and you don't let up, those thrusts are coming in harder and faster than ever before. he's crossed the threshold of being overwhelmed and overstimulated. but it feels too good to stop.

it's a good thing too that you don't plan on stopping. beads of sweat have formed on your forehead and your abs are burning from the workout, but you'd do anything to see derek cum like this.

tears prick at the corner of his eyes and roll down his cheeks from the pleasure, it's too much, it's so much. the feeling of the strap pounding him over and over, the way you're teasing him through it and the orgasm riddling him speechless - it's a perfect combination. you feel resistance as you push in now, he's clenching so hard. cute.

eventually, you slow your relentless thrusting, going back to a slow pace to ease up. derek lets out a moan of relief, turning his head to the side to look at you with that fucked out expression, tongue practically hanging out his mouth.

"aw, you've ruined your sheets baby." you grin, kneading the skin at his waist.

"f-fuck off." he stutters back, still trying to regain composure after all the stars in his eyes.

that causes you to grin further, raising an eyebrow, "oh? are you giving me attitude again?"

he thinks about it for a moment, breath catching up to him, "fuck you." there's a smirk playing at the edge of his lips like he's challenging you.

oh.

oh.

you like that.

leaving the soft skin of his waist, your hand snakes up his back to his hair to grip it tightly, pulling his head back. "sounds like you want to be taught a lesson, derek, is that what you want?"

the sensation had him reeling, sending another jolt to his cock that peaks up in interest once more. gritting his teeth, he takes a second to answer, "fuck. you." he repeats with that signature smirk.

you throw his head down and grip his hips with intention, tightly, leaving marks. "i'm gonna fuck you until the only thing you can think about is my strap. you're gonna be so fucking needy for it, more than you already are." you bring a hand up to smack his ass, he gasps in response.

"you can try." derek bites back.

fuck. it was going to be a long night. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. ‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @BooNam ‧₊˚ ily!! .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[sleepyhutcherson]

derek fucking reader and making sure they feel every ridge of him 🤭

derek danforth size kink x gn!reader

18+, smut, minors dni, size kink, derek being a little mean, spanking, degradation, super short, name callling ( slut, whore ) !

keep these requests goinggg!!!

“Feel that?” Derek teases, gliding his cock in and out of your hole. You were practically drooling, bent over his desk— where he should be working, to be fair— feeling every vein of his massive length.

You nod, unable to answer with words.

Derek smacks your ass, causing you to let out a rather loud whine. “Speak up.” He instructs through gritted teeth. He was panting heavily as he continued filling you up with his cock.

“I- I do,” you hurried to speak, gripping the edges of his desk so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re so big.”

He grins at that, shoving deeper inside of you. He loves to hear that and you knew it. “Such a good slut,” he praised, gripping your hips.

“Derek, ‘m so close!” He could feel you clench around him but he wasn’t going to let you cum that easily. You should know better.

He smacked your ass again— this time just a little harder than the last— before leaning down to whisper in your ear; “who said you could cum yet, whore?”

[xcherryerim]

A kiss On the Lips

Derek x chubby gn!reader | wc: 3.1k

“And if it feels right, promise I don’t mind. And if it feels right, promise I’ll stay here all night” — Let Me Love You by Ariana Grande

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18 ONLY

Warning: Sexual tension | oral sex (to reader) | unprotected sex | penetration | light spanking | a bit of aftercare. | porn with plot

If you wanna go directly to the smut look for the “…”

As you continued to prepare drinks for the eager patrons, your hands grew weary, but there was no time for rest. This was no ordinary night; Derek Danforth, the wealthy and notorious playboy had decided to splurge on a round of drinks for the entire club. Glancing at the impeccably dressed man with blonde highlights, his fishnet shirt adorned with sparkling diamonds, and a black coat was surrounded by an entourage of stunning models. You couldn't help but let out a wry chuckle. Just another night at the club, you thought to yourself.

When you tried to get back to your work, your gaze quickly met his hazel eyes. Derek flashed you a dazzling smile, and in the blink of an eye, he appeared right in front of you, leaning casually against the counter. 

Derek scanned the menu above you with a confident air before turning to face you once more, his smile unchanged. "Let me get a 'Kiss On The Lips,' please."

The unexpected request caught you off guard, but you tried to hide your surprise. With a deep breath, you regained your composure and replied, the corner of your lips raising lightly. 

"That's going to cost ya."

Raising an eyebrow, Derek slid onto a nearby stool, his gaze locked on yours as he queried, "How much?"

You leaned against the counter and without missing a beat you responded. "Fifty bucks." 

His eyes widened slightly, seemingly surprised by your bold response. "For a drink?"

Surprised by his reaction, you couldn't resist the urge to chuckle at his expense. "Oh, it's a drink?! I must admit, I've never heard of that one before." The corner of your mouth curved into a playful grin as you watched him burst into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the bustling club.

Recovering from his fit of giggles, Derek shook his head, still chuckling softly. "You thought I meant..." he trailed off, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a wink, you retorted, "Yeah, sorry. I should've known better, seeing as how you have a certain... type." Your attention shifted towards the VIP section where the models were dancing and sipping their drinks, unable to hide your amusement at the sight.

Derek raised an eyebrow, his expression turned more serious despite the lingering twinkle in his eyes. "What are you implying?"

You got closer, your eyes scanning the new sight of him. "I mean, I'm not a model." You shrugged, chuckling as your clothes clung tight to your curvy body from the hot atmosphere of the bar, a sight that wouldn’t go unnoticed by Derek. 

He bit his rosy lips and stared at your form longer than intended. "Are you kidding? You're way past attractive," 

"Hey, wow, I never said I wasn't," you returned, flashing a proud grin in return. "But you prefer models."

Derek's hazel eyes flickered over you, appraisingly, before he responded, "There are models your size. And bigger." A faint smile played on his lips as he subtly traced his fingers along the contours of your hand, his touch both teasing and intimate.

"You'd make a good one, actually...and your hands are quite beautiful too," With a sense of reverence, he delicately traced the lines of your fingers, drawing out each touch as if savoring every moment.

 "You'd make a great hand model as well..." His voice trailed off, lost in thoughts of your nimble fingers exploring his body, teasing and pleasuring him in ways that left him wanting.

You rolled your eyes at his flattery, trying to keep things professional. "All that charm won't get you a free drink." You attempted to maintain a stern facade, but the heat in your cheeks gave away your true feelings.

Derek's eyes twinkled with mischief as he proposed, his voice velvety smooth, "How about this? If you give me a 'kiss on the lips' after I finish my drink, you'll reward me with another kiss for being such a 'good boy.' And then..." His fingertips trailed along your knuckles, making your knees weak. "I take you to the dance floor and then, we finish the day off with you taking me home?"

You stood there, processing his words, uncertainty clouding your thoughts. Was he truly serious about this proposition? But the way his eyes lingered on you, tracing your form, and the subtle hint of pink in his cheeks left no doubt. Derek was dead serious.

You nodded in agreement, focusing on preparing the drink while avoiding eye contact. Your hands trembled slightly, a mix of nervousness and excitement causing your pulse to race. Derek's proposition was bold, and you found yourself torn between curiosity and caution.

He snickered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Why so shy now? I don't bite." He smiled innocently, but the promise in his voice was anything but innocent. "Unless you want me to."

He winked a sly challenge hanging in the air as he patiently waited for his drink. You couldn't help but feel drawn to him, the allure of danger and passion swirling around him like a magnetic force.

As soon as you finished mixing the concoction, Derek took a sip, his full lips moving sensuously around the rim of the glass. You found yourself mesmerized by the sight, eager for the promise of his next kiss.

When Derek finally set the empty glass aside, you leaned in close, your heart pounding in your chest as the electricity between you reached a fever pitch. His lips were warm and inviting, urging you to lose yourself in the moment. The kiss deepened,  sparks flying as tongues intertwined.

Breathless and panting from the intensity, you reluctantly pulled away, gazes locked on each other, admiring their mutual disheveled image. Derek's eyes danced with lust as he whispered hoarsely, "Now, can I take you to dance?"

You hesitated for a moment, the thrill of the unknown coursing through your veins. Nodding, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the music, joining Derek on the dance floor. The pulsing beats fueled your passion, and you found yourself lost in the sensuality of the moment.

His strong arms wrapped around you, pressing your body tightly against his. The heat of his touch sent waves of desire through you, and you couldn't help but notice the evidence of his desire pressed against your rear.

You teased him gently, your voice dripping with flirtation. "Having fun?"

Derek's response was a low murmur, filled with unbridled hunger that made your heart race. "Oh, you have no idea," he whispered, his left hand resting possessively on your hip while his right hand gripped your ass cheek, drawing you even closer.

As the night wore on and the club began to wind down, Derek's eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you, the longing in his gaze unmistakable. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that belied his usual confidence.

"Let's go to your place," he suggested, hastily shrugging on his black coat. You raised an eyebrow, aware of the stark contrast between your humble apartment and his lavish estate. 

"Why not yours?" you asked curiously, wondering why he chose your home over his.

Derek's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes before disappearing as quickly as it came. "It'll be nice to be somewhere else that isn't home..." he murmured, his voice tinged with melancholy that piqued your interest.

Before you could probe further, he gently lifted your chin, his fingers firm yet tender. "Let's go," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. There was a sense of urgency in his voice, a need that spoke volumes about his desire for you. "I can't wait much longer."

… 

"Mmh... oh, fuck!" Derek exclaimed, his voice barely above a whisper as he ravaged your lips in a desperate kiss. As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, he wasted no time unbuttoning your uniform, his hands trembling with anticipation. The intensity of his kiss left you breathless, struggling to catch your breath.

"Where?" he asked between frantic kisses, his eyes searching for guidance in the dimly lit room.

You managed to point towards the bedroom, your voice barely audible above the sound of his lips crashing on yours. Satisfied with your answer, Derek continued to kiss you with reckless abandon, guiding your body toward the room with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperation.

Finally, he threw you gently onto the bed, landing on top of you with a primal need that left you gasping for air. The weight of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the evidence of his desire through his pants.

His trembling lips trailed down to your neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin as he discarded the long-sleeved shirt you wore. His hands roamed over your body, and you felt a surge of excitement and anticipation that left you breathless. Through his groans and the hickeys he left behind, you could just make out the words, "You smell so good."

As you ran your fingers through his curls, you watched Derek's reaction, his body melting under your touch. It wasn't until you tightened your grip slightly that he reacted, releasing a guttural moan that shook his entire frame. Surprise and confusion crossed his features, his dilated pupils fixated on your face.

Without warning, Derek's skilled fingers worked their way across your zipper, swiftly undoing it. Gasps escaped your lips as he did the same with his clothing, revealing his arousal beneath.

"Can you face fuck me?" he demanded abruptly, his eyes locking onto yours. The change in his tone was unmistakable; this wasn't a request for permission but a claim of what he desired.

Surprised by the sudden shift, you stammered, "What?" before realizing the implications of his words. Before you could protest further, he peeled away the rest of your clothing, revealing your naked form beneath.

"You're lucky," he whispered hoarsely, his voice tinged with a husky timbre. "I'm usually the one doing the face fucking, not the other way around... but,”

He parted your legs, his eyes gleaming with forbidden hunger. His eyes locked with yours, filled with raw desire and a promise of pleasure yet to come. 

“I want to be choked between your thighs as I taste you."

His eyes locked with yours, and you felt a wave of desire wash over you, catching your breath in your throat. There was a mix of shock and excitement at his request, but the allure of his suggestion was impossible to deny. Nodding in agreement, you encouraged him to proceed, curiosity getting the best of you.

Derek's eyes darkened, and you felt a deep sense of intimacy as his gaze never left yours while he positioned himself between your legs. His lips gently grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. As his talented tongue began to explore, each delicate flick and swipe, created a sensation that was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

The tips of his fingers lightly brushed against the throbbing between your legs, eliciting gasps from you. His rhythm was steady, yet passionate, his tongue delving deeper, coaxing you higher and higher with each pass. Your breath became uneven, mingling with the sounds of his eager exploration.

As the intensity built within you, so did the connection between you two. You could feel Derek's focus solely on pleasing you, the lovemaking becoming a dance of sorts, a beautiful exchange of pleasure and desire. Each lick, suckle, and nibble drove you wilder, your body arching in response.

you reached out and ran your fingers through his hair, holding him in place with a firm grip. Your moans grew louder and more intense, and your thighs instinctively wrapped around him, pulling his head closer, and urging him to delve deeper into the forbidden territory. Your fingers dug into his curls, silently begging him to continue as the pleasure built within you.

Derek moaned loudly, his arousal growing with every sound you made. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he pulled you closer, positioning himself perfectly between your legs. His tongue darted and swirled, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body like wildfire.

Derek tapped your thighs, signaling the need for air. Reluctantly, you released him, your eyes drawn to the mixture of fluids and saliva coating his mouth and chin. There was something undeniably erotic about the sight, its raw nature turning you on even more.

He panted heavily as he commanded, "Get on fours." Without protest, you complied, laying your stomach flat on the bed while your legs dangling off the side. The vulnerability you felt only added to the excitement building within you.

Derek admired the view from behind, his eyes tracing the curves of your body. "So big..." he murmured, biting his lip in anticipation. His large hands smacked your ass, the stinging sensation leaving a clear mark on your skin. Each strike was deliberate, designed to heighten your arousal even further.

He admired the sight of his length disappearing between your rounded behind, and you could tell he was struggling to maintain control. A low, pained whimper escaped him, the sound raw and genuine. It seemed as though he'd been yearning for this moment since the very first time he'd laid eyes on you at the bar.

With renewed vigor, Derek began thrusting, his movements fierce and unrestrained. "God," he breathed out the words, the phrase echoing in your ears. "I can't get enough of you," he said, his nails digging into your love handles as a testament to his desire and the intensity of the moment.

The room was now filled with the sounds of skin slapping against each other, a symphony of uncontrolled whimpers, and your hungry moans. 

"Don't hold back, let me hear you, baby," Derek panted, his voice barely above a whisper. His words were a command, an invitation to let loose and give yourself to the pleasure completely. As he sank even deeper inside you, your body convulsed, the intensity growing with each thrust.

You countered his statement with a smirk, "You can do better than that," your words laced with challenge, goading him further into the realm of pleasure.

Chuckling, Derek responded, "Is that so?" His smirk only grew wider. "Fine. Hands behind your back." He quickly seized your wrists, guiding them into place and holding them firmly. With each thrust, he increased the force, his body moving in a cadence that pushed you to the brink of madness.

"Louder," he commanded, his voice taking on a different tone when he whispered your name, tinged with a hint of neediness. The demand was evident in the tone of his voice, and you knew that obeying would only fuel the fire raging between you both.

"Let me hear you," he insisted, his authority unmistakable. Your body trembled, anticipation building with each word and thrust.

You cried out in pure pleasure, your voice echoing through the room as Derek's thrusts became more forceful. His command had pushed you beyond any limits you thought existed, driving you to new heights of ecstasy. Your body writhed beneath him, your moans filling the space as he continued to dominate you in every sense of the word.

The tension built, each second drawing you closer to your climax. With each thrust, your ecstasy grew, coupled with the knowledge that Derek's release was near. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your ear, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

His voice was a rough, desperate growl as he declared, "I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are." The words were tinged with pride and possession, his grip tightening on your wrists as if to emphasize his claim.

You giggled despite yourself, the playfulness in your voice belied the intensity of the situation. "I bet they can hear you too."

"How can't they?" Derek retorted, his eyes gleaming with devilish delight. With a resounding slap, he struck your ass, the sting only adding to the pleasure. "If I'm fucking this sweet thing of yours."

He paused, admiring the sight before him. Tracing his hand along your ass, he marveled at the hickeys on your neck and the marks covering your body. "You're already hot, but you look even hotter with my marks all over you." The admission was equal parts tender and possessive, a testament to his need for dominance and control.

You began to sway your hips in tandem with his thrusts, your movements teasing his length with every motion. Derek groaned loudly, his body tense with anticipation. His eyes remained glued to the sight unfolding before him.

"Oh, yeah," he muttered, his eyes glued to the sight. "Thrust against my cock." His voice was a plea, a silent command that you couldn't ignore. With a wicked smile, you obliged, matching his movements with your own. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of you, the rhythm intensifying as you fed off each other's energy.

Derek bit his lip, his eyes gleaming with lust as he watched the spectacle unfold. The room was alive with the sounds of your bodies connecting, the evidence of your passion on full display for anyone with the courage to peek inside. 

Time seemed to slow down, each moment stretching into eternity as you lost yourself in the dance of flesh and desire. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you to revel in your primal connection. As you moved together, Derek's hands traced the marks he'd left on your body, a visual testament to the night you shared.

After several minutes of intense passion, Derek found his release, burying himself deep within you as warmth flooded your core. His body shook, his breaths becoming ragged as he sought to regain control. He continued to thrust, prolonging the sensation until you too reached your peak. Together, you rode the waves of pleasure, surrendering to the power of your connection.

Once spent, you both collapsed on the bed, your bodies sticky and slick with sweat and passion. Derek's head fell onto your thighs, the same limbs that had choked him moments earlier. His breaths were shallow, his heartbeat slowing down to a normal rhythm. He pressed a gentle kiss to your skin, the gesture charged with meaning and gratitude.

Contentment washed over both of you as you lay there, catching your breath. His lips curved into a satisfied smile, his eyes filled with affection. He offered a soft yet meaningful remark, "This feels nice."

With a smile, you continued to caress his hair, enjoying the quiet moment of intimacy that followed the frenzy of desire. Your fingers ran through his locks, a soothing gesture that spoke volumes about the connection you shared.

Thank you for reading!

If you only want to see my smut work, consider following @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!

btw sorry if this was lowkey bad but i been feeling shitty the whole week idk why.

taglist: @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo @jhutch-bf @cassiecasluciluce @jhutchismyl0verb0y (if you want to be added let me know!)

[notquitekris]

So yeah. I did it, by the way.

[hungerhutch]

LUCKY

Peeta Mellark X AFAB!reader

Summary: you're worried about him during the quarter quell

Tags: fluff, slight angst, insecure little Peeta baby😔, kissing, one or two innuendos, three uses of y/n, established relationship (your in Katniss's place, obvi)

wc: 3.134k

Notes: there is definitely not enough Peeta fics!! I'm also working on a hijacked Peeta fic based off of one of my favorite songs! (idk when I'll finish it). Enjoy! also reposting this since it flopped

---------------------------༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶-------------------------------

It had been three hours since Peeta hit the force field and Finnick had to resuscitate him.

You have been keeping a frantic eye on him, just in case there was another deadly object he wants to bump into (silly lil Peeta. You can’t take him anywhere fr fr). 

“y/n- I swear I'm fine. You don't have to keep watching me.” Peeta mumbles and glances at you.

“I know, I'm just scared.. Maybe you shouldn’t be so clumsy.” you tease, trying to calm some of your nerves.

“Ok, ok. I get it. I thought everyone knew I was the weak one in the alliance.” he chuckles and shakes his head.

 “What do you mean? You’re not weak, Peeta. You won the games.” you look at him and raise your eyebrow.

“Are you sure? I won the games because of you. I was just.. Lucky.” he looks back at you and shrugs.

“Lucky? Peeta, I’m the lucky one. We probably wouldn’t have made it together if you didn’t find those berries.” you sigh and scoot closer to him. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and squeezes you gently. “y/n.. Just because I found some berries, doesn’t mean I’m not weak. I’m just a baker.. You deserve someone who can take care of you.”

You gently grab his chin and turn his head to face you. “But you can. You’re the only person I feel safe with. And I like that you’re a baker. It makes you more adorable.” you giggle softly and stare into his eyes. 

“You’re just saying that.” he blushes faintly and rolls his eyes playfully.

“No, I'm not.” you brush away a piece of his hair and shake your head.

He smiles at you and wraps his other arm around you.

You rest your head in his lap and lean against him, smiling back up at him as he strokes your hair. 

“So it's true. I guess the ‘star-crossed lovers’ are actually real.” Finnick snorts, nudging Johanna next to him.

“Isn't it obvious? I thought it was hilariously clear when she started whaling on him and shouting at all of us after his heart stopped.” Johanna laughs, nudging him back.

“I thought she was gonna start punching me after i gave him mouth to mouth.” He laughs with her, glancing at the two of you.

“‘Peeta! Peeta! Omg Peeeetaa!!’” Johanna mimics you, laughing even harder with Finnick.

You glare at them and sit up from his lap. “Do you two ever shut up?”

“Oh please, we all know how you got that ‘baby’ inside you.” He grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes and scoff. “You two make me sick.”

“Whatever, lover girl.” they laugh again and walk back over to the rest of the group

You sigh and lean back against him “I can’t stand them sometimes.” 

“Me either.. I just wish they would give us some time to ourselves.” he mumbles and kisses you on the forehead. 

“‘Wanna go for a walk? For a break?” you smile and raise your eyebrow

“Yeah, why not?” he smile back at you and stands up

“Hey ‘love birds’! Come back with another bun in the oven so we can get some sponsors, eh?” Finnick shouts and laughs harder. 

“Don't make me shoot you!” you shout back and grab his hand as you head deeper into the jungle.

You lean against a tree next to him and rest your head on his shoulder. “I miss home so much. I would do anything to have your cinnamon buns one last time before my stupid inevitable death.”

“Cmon y/n, you’re not gonna die. I’ll make sure of it.” he strokes the side of your head with his thumb. “Once we get home together, I’m gonna make you your own batch.” he chuckles and pecks the top of your head softly.

“Peeta, you know it's practically impossible to get out of this together, right?” you glance up at his face and smile sadly.

“I know, but I'm willing to risk those odds. I’m sure I'm lucky enough” he smiles back at you and moves his hand from your hair to your cheek.

You grin and pull him into a soft kiss. Not a forced one, for the cameras or for the capitol. A real kiss. 

“you don't have to kiss me if you don't want to.” he says after you pull away.

“I know.” you nod and kiss him again.

---------------------------༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶-------------------------------

[felinecyan]

Brat Tamer

[Derek Danforth x Female!Reader]

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

WC: 1555

Category: Fluff, Comfort

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

『••✎••』

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, fuck you too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, that's gross."

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a match made in heaven.

[stop-talking]

Jhutch Valentines Head-cannons

(What Mike, Futturman, Billy, Derek, and Clapton would get you for Valentines day 🎀) 18+ , written partially with fem reader in mind !

Mike

♡ Prefers a stay-at-home date. He'd get Abby out of the house for the evening for some alone time.

♡ A homemade dinner would be waiting for you on the table, with some flowers he picked somewhere outside in a vase at the center. (He finds flowers at the store to be a little pricey.)

♡ He does, however, splurge on a nice bottle of wine to share over dinner.

♡ After dinner activities include cuddling on the mattress he dragged out in the living room to be in front of the T.V, sharing a pint of ice cream, and watching your favorite movie.

♡ And since you're home alone for once? Maybe something a little less innocent as well, if you're up to it. 💖

Futturman

♡ Definitely buys you one of the Lego flower bouquet sets. His logic? They'll never wilt! (Plus, he'd love to spend time building it with you.)

♡ Hand-writes you a card. He spent hours at the store agonizing over what would be the best choice for you- but eventually decided there was nothing he could buy to accurately express how much he loves you. His card is a little sloppy, and his handwriting isn't great, but the sentiment is beautiful and genuine.

♡ If you're a gamer like he is, he gets you a little something relating to that. Whether it be in-game currency, an expansion pack, or a completely new game to play together. He pays attention and knows what you want most.

♡ Dresses nice and takes you to a decent sit down restaurant. He doesn't stop touching you and complimenting you the whole night, no matter how well he's dressed it can't compare to you.

Billy

♡ low-key forgets Valentines Day is coming up until a few days before, when he notices the gas station is decked out in hearts and flowers.

♡ Wakes you up with a nice breakfast in bed, whispering in your ear about how you aren't gonna lift a finger for anything today.

♡ Simple lunch date after a cozy morning together, and after that he takes you shopping. Its just running errands together, getting groceries and other necessities, but he throws a cute stuffed animal in the cart when you aren't looking.

♡ Ends the day by making sure you know exactly how much he loves you, wants you, needs you. You're up far too late that night for people who have work the next morning. 💞

Derek

♡ At first you think he's forgotten all about you, but around noon he shows up at your door with an obnoxiously large rose bouquet, $100 bills worked into it somehow.

♡ "To get your hair and nails done. For tonight." he explains, insisting you take the money. It's a little over a grand.

♡ He doesn't leave without a kiss, and a promise to send a limo for you later that evening. With Derek, who knows where your date could be at. A restaurant? A concert? A strip club? All feasible options.

♡ Turns out he was feeling a little more sappy than that, and you find yourself at the very establishment you met him at just over a year ago.

♡ After dinner he gives you another present, some extremely revealing lingerie. He has a matching set, of course. They don't stay on for long.

Clapton

♡ Def the type of guy to slide you conversation hearts from across the lunch table. The little chalky candies with stuff like "luv u" and "kiss me" on them. Gets pouty if you don't say it back or actually give him a kiss.

♡ Gives you your favorite candy, along with a CD he burned for you. The playlist is a mix of both his and your favorite songs, most of them love songs.

♡ If you'll let him, he takes you out on a bowling date. Makes you promise if he gets three strikes you'll give him a kiss. (He only gets two and you kiss him anyways.)

♡ Walks you home, holding his skateboard in one hand and your own hand in his other. Doesn't mind that walking is slower, he's not gonna complain about more time with you.

♡ Ends the night by giving you his jacket. It's not remotely cold outside, he just thinks its hot when you wear his clothes. 🎀

Tagging some of my moots because I miss u guys:

@xcherryerim @joshfutturman @janitorhutcherson @solarissun @jealousjersey

no pressure to interact, ily :3

[jealousjersey]

best friend!rockstar!clapton x gn!bandmate!reader (woo!!)

do i wanna know~🎸

reader is gn but is makeup wearing!! smut, unprotected, friends to lovers, hickies/scratches/bites, no reader pronouns/specified genitalia is mentioned. smut with plot. !!minors dni i have a sock filled with quarters!!

CLAPTON is the lead guitarist of your band, The Chain Scheme. you’re the lead singer and songwriter and technically the whole “let’s start a band” idea was yours to begin with but he’ll never let you win that argument.

it’s the night before the biggest gig of your life and your best friend knocks on your dressing room door as you’re placing your makeup delicately on your skin, making sure not to miss any places that the spotlight would dry out. it’s a precise process that takes time and patience.

“come in” you shout, recognizing claptons knock. he enters the dressing room with a nervous smile. he shuts the door and sits on the love seat behind you, fidgeting with his hands and seemingly biting his nails again.

“i’m gonna keep it a buck with you, im scared as fuck right now, there’s like…hundreds of people out there” he stands up, now pacing around the room. his cut off shirt shows his sweat marks dripping down his sides and his messy brown hair looks like it could’ve been drenched in water.

“nervous?” you apply your eyeliner on your lower water line as you him in the mirror, pacing and biting his nails. god, he’s fucked right now. after a few moments deep in thought he speaks up. “you’re my best friend and if you weren’t i would never ask you this but i am really fucking stressed right now…do you think we have time for a quickie? before you say no please think about it…” he choked out. “yeah, yes please” you say faster than you’d care to admit. you wondered what sex with clapton would be like, and you both need the relief…

his eyes widen and he nods, not daring to say something to ruin the moment. he tugs at his skinny jeans, pulling them down and almost tripping on them, laying back on the couch in his boxers. you shed your concert attire and he stars at your body, involuntarily bucking his hips at the sight of you naked just for him. his eyes trail along your body and mentally fuck you, his dick contracting in his briefs just at the slight thought.

you lock the dressing room door and go to him, getting on top of him and straddling his hips as you stare longingly into his eyes. you kiss him gently at first but his tongue presses against your teeth and you grant him access. his hand travels from your jaw to your ass, rubbing the skin as his hips grind against yours causing a strangled groan to leave your lips.

the kiss is broken by the chant of fans outside waiting. clapton pulls his boxers down and his dick surged out of his pants. hot, red, and sticky. god, is it beautiful. he guides your hips to sink onto him. as he enters you, he lets out a needy moan of your name. “fuck…” you whimper. he forced himself right into your g-spot, the sensation causing static to fill your brain, shaking you to your core. the sensation made you loose your angle, but he took over once more, dragging you down so that you grinded down on his cock instead, your arousal smearing onto his lower stomach. the extra lubricant help you to grind onto him.

he mutters love drunk compliments into your ear as his eyes roll back and his dick starts to twitch inside you. the firing pool in your abdomen making it clear this will come to an end soon. you just wonder how long you can prolong it before the crowd gets pissed…

his expression shows his pleasure, dazed and overwhelmed by you. you take back control and grind again, feeling lighter than ever now. your expression filling with an undying sense of pleasure. you start to clench around him, feeling the orgasm coming fast. as you ride your hips along his, he whispers drunkingly “i’m gonna cum…can i cum?” he says, sounding so desperate and broken. “yeah, cum. please” you breathed as you feel it coming.

after a second of him moving you back and forth just the way he wanted you, you felt his warm cum filling you up, shooting up inside you. he weakly thrusts a few more times before giving up, completely spent and out of it.

the orgasm hits you fast, grabbing the couch behind him as your eyes widen. ecstasy fills your brain and all you can think about is clapton. you spill your release all over him and all you can do is repeatedly moan his name like you’ve forgotten your own. nothing else matters right now except how good you both feel.

except for the fact that you’re late for your concert.

[starryhutcherson]

hii, hru?

i have an idea for another clapton davis one shot:)

what if the reader is an spanish girl and she help clapton with his spanish homework but one thing led to another and yk it ends in smut

- 🫧

━━ NO HABLO ESPAÑOL

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: clapton davis x spanish-speaking!reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (m!recieving), come swallowing, mentions of p in v, swearing, google translated spanish word count: 3300+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Clapton’s bedroom is drowned in the drowsiness of a late-afternoon heat; the sunshine bleeds against his scattered memorabilia, stretching beams across the floor and illuminating the entire space in a picturesque light. It’s hot, too hot — sweat settles on your starfished body as you lie sprawled atop his carpet, surrounded by stationery and permanently tainted with a subtle flush of rose. 

Initially, he’d intended for this to be no more than a harmless study session — he was god awful at spanish, and you were a fluent speaker. You just happened to be unfathomably drop-dead gorgeous. It was pure coincidence, of course it was. 

He’d erupted in an animated grin when you’d agreed to help him, teeth gleaming in a wide display of genuine gratitude – he wasn’t entirely sure of the appeal of helping your friendly-but-not-a-friend classmate with their spanish homework, especially due to his apparent lack of intelligence — but you agreed all the same. You had your reasons, even if he didn’t know them. 

What he does know is that he’s struggling. With the Spanish, sure, though that wasn’t much of a surprise — he’s also struggling not to seize hold of you, hands splayed against your skin, taking you right here on this fucking carpet. The eye contact you’re maintaining is dangerous; that damn cloying smile, those saccharine sentences – the impact it has on Clapton is enough to shatter bullet proof glass and he’s not sure he'll be able to rope his caveman brain out of the gutter. Your voice is so sweet he swears it’ll give him cavities. 

“Alright, translate this one. Tomé al autobús.”

His forehead creases with concentration, trying to focus on the meaning of your words, and not the simmering spike of dry heat that spirals in his throat and his crotch. He narrows his eyes, inhaling a breath as if about to answer, but after a delayed moment all that escapes is a dejected huff.

“I got nothing.”

You tut at him disappointedly. “C’mon. We just did this one.”

He tries to think back, but it’s hard to cast his mind to one single moment with you, because every minute seems to blur hopelessly into the next one. Concentration is impossible when you’re this close to him, when he can hear every breath of yours like they’re his own, when his head is full of filthy fabrications in which your velveteen voice screeches while he slams into your g-spot with lethal precision. 

Get a grip. He swallows around the presence of nothing and tries to hold the crumbling pieces of his facade together. 

It isn’t working. 

“Uh, no we didn’t,” he teases slyly, attempting to reach for your own sheet, which is already full with all the answers. You snatch it away from his desperate hand, swatting his palm for emphasis. The desultory touch shouldn’t mean as much as it does. 

“Yes. We did. C’mon. I’ll give you a hint— bus.”

He does light up with a fraction of recognition. “Oh, shit, yeah. I got it, it’s uh— I’m gonna take the bus?”

You let out another dissatisfied hum. “Not quite. It’s I took the bus. Past tense.”

He rolls over onto his back with a tediously drawn out groan. “That’s like, the exact same thing, c’mon.”

“Uh, no it isn't. If someone asked you how you got home, you’d say “I took the bus,” not, “I’m taking the bus.” You taunt, a mocking twinkle in your eye that renders his body weak with desire. 

“Uh, actually I wouldn’t say either, because I get home by car.”

With mild amusement you roll your eyes, and Clapton’s head wanders yet again, to venereal visions where that eye roll is taken far out of context — right now, spanish isn’t the only thing that’s hard.

“These entire sentences are too hard to translate. Just gimme some words.” 

You scoff at his swift abandon, but you do oblige, reaching across yourself to grab the standard textbook for the grade, idly flipping through a few pages before finding something you deem to be his level. 

It’s a basic configuration of nouns, English situated on one side of the page and Spanish on the other; the lists are out of order and the goal is to match up each pair with the correct translation. You figure with a bit of your help, it’ll be easy enough. 

“Here,” you say, handing him the textbook. He hauls himself back to his prior position on his stomach, snatching a pen, examining the page, and then staring back up at you blankly. 

“C’mon, what am I, a kindergartener?”

You snort, shuffling marginally closer to him so that your shoulders just barely collide. The contact is faint, sure, but it’s enough to make his mind warp. Maybe his desire for you isn’t so one-dimensional. 

“I know it looks easy, but it’s about the words, Clapton, not the activity.” 

“Well it’s dumb. I liked the other stuff better.”

“You asked for this. Start matching.” 

He glares at you through narrow eyes, a semblance of their hazel hue present through the gap in his lowered eyelids — the irritation doesn’t last long. Not when his gaze meets yours and he can feel the gentle wash of your breath against his lips, dainty and dangerous simultaneously. He’d swallow it if he could; preserve the very flavor of your exhales straight from your lips to his. 

An obvious spill of crimson fragments blossoms against the dermis of his cheeks, every moment he spends around you is like being bathed in incandescence, like being roasted from the inside out. He’s a moth and you are a painfully hot flame. 

His eyes stray downwards in a weak attempt to hide his blush, grumbling to himself before beginning the work. He makes it through one and a half questions before he inevitably gives up for the second time. 

“This is too hard,” he admits. 

"Thought it was for kindergartners." You chuckle, to which he mumbles a low, "Shut up."

A measly moment passes before he's hit with an idea. "Let me test you."

"Seriously? You know I'm fluent. That'd be like me testing you on English."

He chuckles to himself, the smug sound leeches to the atmosphere and sends a fresh swarm of butterflies to thrash amidst your stomach lining. He’s too tantalizing for his own good, he’s your forbidden fruit. You’d love a taste. 

“Pretty confident then, huh?” 

The delicate development of his smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you; it’s hot, the way his bottom teeth are just partially visible by the action, the way his eyes glitter with the promise of a challenge and his demeanor is altered from defeated to determined in one brief snapshot of a moment. 

“Seeing as I’ve grown up speaking Spanish, uh, yeah. I’d say I’ve probably got this in the bag.” 

His grin flourishes exponentially. “We’ll see about that.”

✩‧₊˚

Four minutes later, Clapton’s master plan at veering the pair of you away from doing the work is proven to be pointless — his assumption in which he could find some big word to stump you was dismissed after witnessing your effortless answers. 

“Sun?” “Are you kidding? Sol.”

He glances up from the textbook, where all of the answers are, huffing a little and searching for something more difficult. 

“Gimme something harder.” He can think of something harder. 

“Okay, okay. Uh… dance?” 

“Bailar,” you say, rolling the ‘r’ with a tantalizing flick of your tongue and he’s sure that by now the tightness in his jeans is obnoxiously prominent. “Seriously, these are so easy.”

“Okay, full sentence: “I’m gonna buy a coffee.”

“Hmmm… let me think,” you say mockingly, and he almost believes he’s got you until you answer with a mirthless chuckle: “Voy a comprar un cafe.”

A dull ache burns in his pants, even the most mundane sentences sound sultry when you use that tone. That fucking tone. He’s still minutely annoyed that you answered his questions with ease, but what did he expect, really? This was your language. 

“These are the simplest questions ever. You really underestimate me.” 

He snorts at this. It was impossible to underestimate somebody like you. He knows that much. 

“I don’t. Trust me.”

A sideways glance, a furrowed brow. You seem to dismiss the comment – it looks that way to him, at least. He’s unaware of the internal screams that loop in your head, cacophonous to the drill of your pounding heartbeat. He really knows how to throw you off your game, after all. 

He clears his throat at the lack of response, endearing albeit the awkwardness. “What even are these words anyway? They don’t even sound anything like the Engish version. I mean— Patio-day-jaygoes?” He flicks his eyes over some of the words in the textbook; his over emphasized, americanized interpretation of the syllables makes you chuckle. 

“Patio de juegos. It means playground— and I already told you that ‘j’ in spanish is pronounced like ‘h’ in english. Y’know. Heart. Hat. Hole.” 

“Doesn’t make any fucking sense. Like, look at this– Zapaytoes?”

“Zapatos. Shoes.”

“Days-fil-e?”

“Desfile. Parade. You really do suck at this.” He scoffs, but you can see the humor buried beneath his irritated disposition. “I told you that like a thousand times. Bay-so?”

“Beso. Kiss.”

Shit. He can feel the color prick his cheeks before your words even truly compute with him. There shouldn’t be any meaning behind them; just a simple definition. No hidden feeling lurking beneath your shallow translation. 

Right? 

Wrong. 

He has an idea. He wants to be cocky. Every single splintered thought is you, you, you, and he feels like if an opportunity presents itself he’d be an idiot not to take it. He wasn’t going to be an idiot. Not today. Not with you. 

“Oh. So… just out of, y’know, curiosity… how would you say, ‘I want a kiss?’”

His ulterior motives soar above your head – you’re so ingrained in helping him that you fail to recognise his confident grin. 

“Puedo tener un beso.” You reply, eyes combing through the familiar words etched against the textbook pages, completely oblivious. A beat of silence falls, a second of hesitation, before he goes in for it.

“Si, si. Uh… si puedes. ” Yes you can. He grins, clearly a little proud of himself.

If you’re being honest, it’s pretty cheesy, what with his eager eyes and butchered pronunciation. At least he’s trying — scraping together his kindergarten-level dialogue to form a simple sentence, and it’s sort of sweet, you think. 

“Was that a sincere offer?”

No harm in asking, right?

“Was it a sincere question?” He fires back instantaneously. 

And oh, he knows it wasn’t. You were merely answering a question, following the sound of his voice and the way it rose and fell like pebbled leather – but his taunting is tantalizing. Your desire is hungry and he offers to feed it – and why would you refuse?

He tastes sweet. Barely a moment of brevity was able to pass before your lips cradled his, sucking and soaking the flavor of lingering soda straight off his teeth. His tongue is his weapon of choice, breathlessly exploring the cave of your mouth, trying to mold himself right into your gums. 

His hands roam, up and down your figure, eventually settling on either side of your waist and thumbing circles into your hip bones, it’s sexy. Just as he is. 

You crook your head to alter the angle and he moans, completely unabashed, the sound passes through his mouth and into yours, and you know his mind is following the same dirty pathway as yours.

You tear away from him, reveling in the way he pants like a wounded dog, the way he struggles to leave your lips as if he’s magnetized to them. 

“I think I know how to help your spanish…”

“Mmm?” He tries to sound like he’s in control but it’s a vain and vacuous attempt. It’s cute. 

You don’t offer a response, but your fingers traipse lower, beyond the region of his shirt’s hem and dipping beneath his waistband. You glance at him, eyes seeking consent. He nods, words failing him as your fingers find his buttons and begin to tug. 

When his denim restrictions pool around his ankles, you guide him to sit on the edge of his bed – his thighs are quivering in anticipation and a saturated spill has soaked his boxers, where the defined shape of his dick has begun to show. 

You grab the spanish textbook from beside you before spreading his legs with your hands. Your pace is agonizing. 

“C’mon, you’re killing me,” he croaks, eyes struggling to stay on you with the weight of this moment heavy on his shoulders. 

You have a spark in your eyes, one that’s ignited and waiting to devour – your thumb encircles his clothed tip and a shudder licks at the base of his spine. His twitching hands come to rest in your hair, interlacing with a grip that stings like rope burn – you’re not opposed to the pain. It’s proof of his lack of control over himself, and the thought itself is enough to make you, in turn, shudder as well. 

“You— fuck. You’re totally evil.” 

A few painful moments of you tracing him through the fabric and he’s getting a little bit frenzied – his jaw is uncomfortably taunt and his hold on your hair is only growing tighter. You decide to indulge his whispered pleas. 

Your hands shift from their position splayed on his thighs and delve into his boxers, making a show of drawing them down his legs until they join his jeans at his feet. His cock’s hard, weeping as he writhes with want. He thinks if you don’t do something, he’ll actually die. Just something. 

“Can you— ah– just do something?” His voice sounds scratchy, punctured by his longing. 

“Ask me in spanish.”

“What?” He’s maybe a little delirious, what with all the blood leaving his head. 

“I’m here to teach you, Clapton.” Your devious grin sends him reeling— his cock shivers with him as he scrambles to open the textbook, trying to find some stupid page that’ll give you what you want. 

He thinks it’s cruel, dangling yourself in front of him like this, mocking him every minute that those decadent lips aren’t wrapped around him. He wonders what Spanish would sound like when it’s muffled by his cock. 

Your hands, callous-free and creamy with the vestige of vanilla lotion, inch gradually upwards along his thighs, enjoying the way their feather-light touches cause tension to erupt across his nerves. He’s trembling in the mid-may heat. 

“Uh— fuck— por– por fay– por-far-vor pay-paydo tenarlo?” You can barely understand the massacred words, and when you do— por favor puedo tenerlo— you deem it to be a little vague. But at least he’s trying. He just needed some motivation. 

When you finally allow him solace in the comfort of your mouth, he goes a little dumb. His jaw slackens with an audible sound as his tongue falls from the roof of his mouth — he was previously rolling it around to try and find any remaining taste of you. He was unsuccessful, of course, but it didn’t matter anymore. 

Not when his cock was buried in the narrow channel of your throat, not when you’re groaning against him as his weight settles against your lapping tongue, not when your teeth graze along his shaft and his hips wildly buck off his bed. It’s so filthy, but it’s everything he needs. 

“Shit— shit, that’s good, yeah, just like that. Fuck that’s— ah!” 

His English is nearly as bad as his Spanish right now, and can you blame him? With every trembling buck forwards he’s thrown deeper into your mouth, your trachea, all accompanied by that greedy glint of lust in your eyes that’s damn near tangible. 

His eyes are rolling backwards, up into the depths of his skull so all you can see are the alabaster parts of his sclera. Your own eyes are misty; soaked with spills of tears that taste like a reward, a reminder of your efforts. He’s breaking and it’s all because of you. 

“Holy fuck,” he rasps, his hands still settled in the roots of your hair. This might not be his first blowjob, but it’s certainly his best one. 

His length prods deeper, bruising at the palate of your mouth, drooling pre-cum around your gums, sousing them in his salty scent. You fall into a rhythm and he falls into you, teetering on the brink of bliss with every prolonged suck that you give him. 

By the time his edge is impending, his cheeks are kissed with stains of vivid cherry red, hair is tousled and slick with sweat, and he’s managed to regain control of his rolling eyes, keeping them trained on your figure with a bout of concentration. Good. 

Your lips leave him, just for a moment, matching your previous pace with your hand and ignoring the desperate whine he emits from the action. 

“You gonna come?”

He looks almost ashamed, as if the prospect of it occurring so early is anything but what you wanted. 

“Well – yeah. Yeah– fuck— if you, if you keep going like that, then yeah.”

His voice cracks like distant thunder and his body bites back another pitchy whimper. 

“You gotta ask nicely.”

The words sound a little foreign as you spit them from your mouth, but you’re too stuck into the experience to care. Your hand chafes against him with the dry friction, and he yearns for your lips once more. In this sticky-sweet moment, he thinks he’d do anything for them back. 

“Please. Please– please, I gotta, you gotta just–”

You interrupt him with a tut. “In spanish.”

En español. 

He fumbles for the book, his hands sliding from your hair with a begrudging expression – he can’t stay infuriated for long though, not when you're subtly slinking your head back to nuzzle his tip. Fuck. 

“Por— por favor.” 

His docility is almost pathetic. 

“Por f– fuck, do I really gotta– ah– do this?”

When your hand threatens to leave his cock completely, the panic he exudes is nearly comical. He’s been wanting this for so long, he’s not losing it now.

“Okay, okay! Por favor, por— shit– por favor. P– yeah, that’s it, you’re so good, so hot, shit—”

His endeavor is ultimately scrambled when your mouth makes its return around him, and you know the moment his eyes begin to lose their focus that he’s gone. You let his consciousness leave, with every desperate thrust into your throat, with every dulcet whimper – your hands extend to fondle his balls and ultimately he’s nudged off into the void of blissful oblivion, by you and you alone. 

His wail is weak but encouraging as he comes, polluting your throat with opalescent ribbons, he tastes like seaside salt and everything you’ve been missing. Indulgent. His shattered voice is the most gratifying sound, incomprehensible praises clotting between his lips and washing over you, and you bask in it. 

You're battered and probably bruised, your jaw aches and your knees are raw, but it was all for a good cause. Seeing him like this, quaking with the pleasure that you carved into him— maybe it’s the orgasmic haze but Clapton swears you’re glistening in the afternoon sun. An angel on Earth. 

Un ángel en la tierra. 

You don’t end up leaving his house that night — instead you lie against the quiet ebb of his heartbeat, tangled in his sheets and woven into his arms where you rightfully belong. His homework still isn’t done, his room carries the scent of sex and sweat and all things filthy, but neither of you have the cognitive ability to worry about it. 

So, you sleep; rocked into exhaustion and sharing a pillow. Your flesh sears as his gentle hands stroke it, he can feel your smile as it forms against his chest. 

Aquí es donde usted pertenece.

reminder, my requests are always open

masterlist

✩‧₊

[freak-accident419]

That’s A Wrap

Derek Danforth x GN!Reader

Summary: You and Derek are pornstars. Filming your next video, things start to go wrong and you two just end up messing around and having a laugh together. However, as your laughs diminishes, things begin to become increasingly intimate between the two of you.

Word Count: 3.5k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, pornstar!derek danforth, pornstar!reader, pornography/filming, messing around/joking about dicks, movie references, humor, hand/blowjob, oral (m and reader receiving), unprotected (comtrary to the title lmao) penetration (no specified genitals for reader), creampie, lovemaking afterward, Heelys, porn with plot except the plot is porn, slightly ooc derek, slight fluff

-

“Here, set the tripod—”

“Hold on, it’s—wait—”

“No, just—wait, let me do it—”

After an excruciatingly long while, you and Derek were finally able to correct the camera’s position on the tripod, obtaining the perfect view of the bed.

Being pretty well-known pornstars for your acclaimed couple sex filmography, you and Derek have made easy money through this collaborative career. You have had several subscribers, views, and positive ratings ever since you first started (which was probably around two years ago). The fact that you were a real couple and had a fair amount of authentic, raw, and innovative videos made your channels gain much traction and praise.

The two of you were already fully undressed on the bed in front of the camera. You reached over and clicked the button to start recording. Derek laid on his back collectedly and you went down between his legs, your face in front of his cock.

“You ready?” You giggle slightly before wrapping your hand gently around his dick, moving it up and down along his shaft. He already nodded, which gave you the cue to put your mouth around him, sucking his head as your hand moved. But then—

Huh.

You suddenly pulled your mouth off with a ‘pop’ and groaned impatiently.

“What is it?” Derek asked, looking down at you.

“There was—fuck—there’s a hair in my mouth,” you say, struggling to get it out. “Fuck.”

After a while, you finally removed it from your tongue with your fingers and rolled your eyes, pumping him once again with your hand. “It’s out?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s out,” you answer with a faint chuckle, continuing to stroke him with one hand while the other tucked some strands of hair behind your ears. Then your hand finally pulled away from his dick, making you notice something dire. “Dude! You’re soft!”

He just looked at you quietly, but you could see some smugness, or at least amusement in his face.

“You’ve been soft the whole time and you knew we were gonna film? C’mon, man!” You complain with a light chuckle, starting your hand movements along his shaft again.

“Just hold on, it’s the dick, not me!” He protested.

“Oh, my god,” you mumble under your breath. “‘Ello?” You shouted frustratedly at his dick, slapping his thigh lightly, “zhis is your wake up call!” Your delivery was in a mocking French accent, making you laugh hysterically, resting your head on his thigh. Derek would usually get hard immediately, especially on occasions where he’d hear your adorable laughter, but for some reason, today in particular, it’s taking him a while.

In response to your allusion, he met you with silence, looking at you with confusion, yet also with a growing smile.

“C’mon! The Swan Princess?” You gasp in disbelief at the thought of him not being familiar with the movie you had referenced earlier. “1994?” You sang in a high-pitched mocking tone, “‘Derek, you and I, were meant tooo beeee…’ Even one of the character’s name is fucking Derek! No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

“I have never heard of that movie in my lif—”

You gasp loudly again, slapping his thigh playfully. “You uncultured bitch! That movie was, like, my childhood! Derek, you are aware that I can easily just, like, rip off your dick right now, right? Like,” you made a gesture with your fist, jerking it out to mock the action. “Pow!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault! I just didn’t watch that kind of shit when I was a kid,” he reasons, fucking giggling at your hostility.

“Oh, okay, so—so what I’m hearing is—you didn’t have a normal childhood,” you retort with raised, knowing brow.

“What? Of course I had a normal childhood!” He exclaimed defensively.

“Right, right, but you probably got picked up from school in a goddamn helicopter, you fuckin’ nepo baby,” you teased with a faint smirk.

“Hey, I did not—” Derek cut himself off, “It was one time, and in my defense, it was an emergency,” he mumbled.

“What was the emergency, you wet your pants?” you giggle, lightly slapping his thigh again and getting a playful groan out of him. “Fuck, why is your dick still down? C’mon, man! Rise! Rise, my glorious creation, rise!” You cackled, laughing as your hand still gripped his cock, your head resting on his thigh, trying to sustain your laughter.

“Was that fucking Megamind?” Derek gaped as you accidentally drooled on his thigh from laughing too much.

“Oh, so you do have a little culture in you.” You bring your head up, wiping your mouth and grinned at him, starting your strokes once again. “Okay, okay. No more bullshit, let’s—let’s film this thing.” You pause frustratedly as you watched your hand move up and down his cock. “If only you could get hard, fuck! ¡Levántate, chorizo! Fuck!” You cackle, eyeing the camera, then looking back at Derek.

“Testing, testing, one, two, three, is this thing on?” You say ‘into’ the head of his cock as if it was a microphone, even tapping it lightly with your fingers. His dick was still limp in your hand, even though Derek couldn’t help but be turned on by your playfulness. “What do you call a cheap circumcision?”

You wait for comedic pause.

“A rip off.”

There was a slight pause before the two of you burst out laughing, Derek laughing at your stupid joke as he stroked your hair with his hand. “Oh my fucking god, Y/n,” he huffed, yet couldn’t help but smile. “You are fucking impossible, you know that?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll start, I’ll start,” you giggle. “I’ll be serious this time! You’re not, like, turned off or anything, are you?”

“No. At this point, I don’t think there’s anything you can do to turn me off,” he recalls with a soft chuckle, slightly caressing your hair.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I think I’ve become desensitized to your antics ever since the fruit roll-up incident.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh, letting your head flop down on his thigh, trying your absolute best to withhold it, yet of course, failing. “Okay, okay! Serious, I’ll be serious now.”

You begin to press gentle kisses to the soft, pink head of his cock, moving your hand slowly along up shaft. Then you kissed at his thighs as well, slightly removing your hand off his cock to leave small kisses up his length, tickling his faint veins with the tip of your tongue. You heard soft, quiet moans escape his lips as you did so, chuckling to yourself as you continued. Leaving more kisses, you lapped your tongue at his frenulum, gaining a louder noise from him. You chuckled to yourself as you saw him finally get fully hard.

“Fina-fucking-lly, thank god,” you huff in relief. “Holy shit, you’re hard as a fucking rock” you add, stroking him faster in your palm, sucking onto his head again before pulling away and switching positions, laying down on your back.

“We’re gonna have to crop out so much shit from this video, fuck,” he chuckles softly as he lines himself up at your entrance.

“Hey, no, you can keep stuff in, our fans love whenever we joke around with each other!” You exclaim giddily as Derek rolls his eyes from amusement. “Hey, we should just, like, make a compilation of our outtakes, like—like a blooper reel!”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as his hands were placed on your thighs, lightly stroking them and spreading them apart in the process. “Bloopers?”

“Yeah, man! People love that shit. You know how when people cum after watching porn and they just feel, like, really dirty and the existential crisis just comes in, like—if there are bloopers at the end of the video, they’ll have something to laugh at, you know? Make us seem more human and therefore, make them feel human again after feeling like creeps,” you explain, surprisingly intricately, as you look up at Derek with an ecstatic grin.

“Okay, you do have a point, maybe you’re onto something,” he smiles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder. “Ready, baby?” It was a husky, low mutter, immediately turning you on.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, letting out a soft gasp as you feel his tip tease your entrance, rubbing it up and down your hole, each time threatening to penetrate it. Your eyes moved to the camera lens with a desperate look on your face, patient, yet seductive, low whines escaping your lips.

One of Derek’s hands were holding onto the leg on his shoulder, and the other one gripped on your own shoulder, slowly pushing his cock in through your entrance, getting a soft moan out from the two of you. He began thrusting slowly, emitting occasional wet squelches before he starts to move his hips faster on yours, filling the room with echoed slaps against skin.

You let out loud, high-pitched, pornographic moans that were, of course, exaggerated for the video as you looked into the camera, then back up into Derek’s eyes. While you didn’t have to fake anything for the most part, the porn industry and algorithms were a bit complicated, so to appeal to a wider audience, things had to be a little more exaggerated and ‘sexier’.

Yet, not even after a split second, you burst out laughing which made Derek cease his thrusts, looking at you with utter confusion.

“Y/n, what—”

“I’m sorry, Derek, I can’t take shit seriously today!” You exclaim, cackling loudly in the room as he pulls out of you, laying your leg back down.

“Oh, my fucking god,” he grumbles, except there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “You are—You are fucking ridiculous,” Derek claims as he slaps your thigh playfully. But then he leaned in, kissing your lips softly, trailing them down to your neck and nibbling certain, ticklish areas that got a quiet moan out of you. “You gonna behave now, darling?”

It was difficult to suppress your giggles. “No, probably not,” you answer, cackling. Holy shit, it was like you were on fucking laughing gas.

“Oh my fucking god!” He complains with a slight grin on his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you right now, Y/n?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed apologetically, yet laughing at the same time. “I can’t, I can’t! Okay, okay, fuck, let’s do this, I’ll comply—I’ll comply!”

“Fucking shit,” he mutters, continuing to press soft kisses up your neck and collarbone. “You’re so fucking annoying,” he jokes, and before you could say anything, his lips silenced yours in a passionate, soft kiss. You hum pleasantly in the kiss, feeling his gentle lips moving with yours, his tongue parting them to explore and taste your mouth. You tangle his hair in your fingers when you place your hands behind his head, feeling his own hands grip your waist.

Then his lips finally parted from yours, peppering kisses down your neck, to your collarbone, then to your chest, all the way down to your groin. Derek gently spread out your thighs, his fingernails digging lightly in the plush skin. He looked up at you and grinned to himself, finally lapping his tongue at your sensitive areas. You begin to moan in response, feeling the pleasure that your partner offered.

“So fucking beautiful, baby,” he muttered under his breath as he continued with his tongue, kissing at the area as well. “So damn frustrating ‘n annoying, but so fucking gorgeous, fuck…”

“O-oh, fuck… f-fuck, Derek, ah…” you whimper quietly as he continued with his intricate tongue.

Derek then pulled his mouth away, hovering above you, grabbing your legs gently to guide them around his hips. Leaning down to kiss your forehead and your lips, he finally and slowly pushed his hard cock through your tight, desperate entrance, beginning to moan as you feel his girth stretch your sensitive, fleshy walls, pushing further and further inside of you. He was being very gentle as well, pressing his lips onto yours as his hips were touching yours, then finally thrusted out slowly. “G—Oh, god,” you pant.

His hips then pushed back in until he thrusted at a steady pace, letting out quiet grunts as your own sounds increased. Your legs tightened around his hips as he gripped harsher on your thighs, gradually increasing his speed. “That’s it, baby,” he mumbles, rocking his hips into yours, “you’re doing so good for me.”

At this point, you forgot that there was a camera beside you.

It happens all the time, you forgetting, because you’re so wrapped up in the sex you were having with your partner, of course. But for some reason, this felt a bit different. It felt more intimate.

You were panting, letting out silent whines and occasional moans as he moved inside of you, pleasuring you with his cock. Then suddenly, with one hand, he reached down and touched you, holding onto your thighs tightly to thrust into you while pleasuring another sensitive area of yours with his fingers.

“F-fuck!” You whine as your breathing quickens, beginning to moan more prominently.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, crying around my fucking cock,” he grunts, his pace increasing as you feel his speed stimulating your walls. “Fuck, you’re so amazing. So fucking tight. Feels so good around me.”

“O-oh, god!” You exclaim before you start to moan more frequently and loudly, your sounds echoing in the room as Derek goes deeper and faster inside of you. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filled the atmosphere, accompanied by increasing wet squelches and moans from Derek now as well. His balls slapped against the bottom of your ass every time he thrusted in, every sensation encouraging Derek to go even faster.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer with every harsh thrust. He then hooked his arms under yours, gripping onto your shoulders from the back, bringing his body closer to yours to kiss your neck, essentially tackling it with his tongue. You brought your hands up to his back, digging your fingernails in his skin and moaning softly and passionately, hearing his voice falter as well.

“I’m cumming!” You whine, breathing and moaning heavily, clenching around him. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum!”

“Fuck!” He groans, continuing to push you to the edge with his cock, driving you closer and closer to your sweet orgasm. “That’s it, baby, cum for me, sweetheart, f-fuck—”

Your hips move quickly together, causing friction against your pelvis as Derek attempted to keep thrusting at a deeper and faster pace. And with one final buck of his hips, your body stiffened and—

“A-ahhhhh!” You moaned exuberantly, releasing from the ecstatic sensations, your hips against his slightly twitching, as well as your thighs. “F-fuck, Derek, a-ahh!”

“F-fuck—” Derek groaned as he thrusted a few more times before cumming deeply inside of you, spurts of his warm, white semen spilling into and painting your walls. “G-god, Y/n, ah-ahhh—fuck!” He moans as his body became stiff after making sure he was essentially balls deep inside before collapsing on top of you, breathing heavily.

You panted, letting out a few small whimpers after coming down from your high, until you felt Derek’s hands begin to caress your face and play with a piece of your hair between your fingers in loving curiosity. Then he pulls his cock out of you, leaving kisses at your neck, chest, then stomach as he moved his body down between your legs. He watched his cum slowly and satisfyingly gush out of your hole, letting out an instinctive moan, pecking your thigh with his lips. Then he slipped in his middle and ring finger through your seeping entrance, pushing his ejaculate deeply back inside of you, increasing your heavy breaths and remaining, quiet whines. After he was satisfied, Derek pressed an innocent kiss to your most sensitive spot then sucked his fingers clean before moving back up to meet your eyes, kissing your lips passionately and sweetly, legs tangling together.

“I love you,” he whispered in your ear before kissing you again affectionately, touching your sides with his soft, gentle palms.

“I love you too,” you muttered with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him back giddily.

You laid there together for a while, Derek’s head nuzzling your neck. You were still fairly tired in the aftermath of your orgasm, breathing heavily and panting together as you start to acknowledge the smell of sex filling the atmosphere. Then you looked to your right and chuckled softly under your breath.

“Camera’s still rolling,” you say quietly with a raised eyebrow as Derek moves his head out of your neck.

“Oh shit,” he says, leaving your body for a split second to press the button on the camera across the bed. You giggled as you watched him do this, laying on top of you right after.

“We’ll, uh, schedule its upload on Saturday,” he says, kissing your cheek then placing his head back in your neck. He was truly infatuated with you.

“I totally forgot we were even filming a porno,” you scoff playfully as you rubbed his back and occasionally played with his soft curls.

“Yeah,” he breathes, caressing your skin once more. “Yeah, actually. You know, it almost feels—”

“Too personal, yeah,” you say, finishing his sentence. The two of you reflected the past moment and thought about every aspect of it. How you started off making several jokes, laughing together, before ultimately making sweet love. And while you’ve mostly always did couple lovemaking pornos for your content, this one in particular felt almost too personal. Like, you’ve posted mostly all of the things you two filmed together, and to have something so intimate and so pure on camera… you wanted to keep it to yourself.

He pops his head up from your neck and looks at you curiously. “You don’t wanna post it, huh?”

He knew you too well.

“Well, you know. It was very… intimate. Like, too intimate and too personal, I kinda wanna… I don’t know… Keep it to ourselves. Like, the public already has enough of our sex tapes, I kinda just want something of our own together, you know?” You explain, watching his gentle, hazel eyes as he processed your words.

“Yeah, no, definitely, I agree, baby,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then began to pepper some kisses on your neck. “It was way too… authentic. And, like, we post the most authentic shit,” he chuckles. “You’re right, we should just keep this for ourselves. We could probably just post a blooper compilation in the meantime.”

“Oh my god, seriously? You’re gonna do my idea?” You beam, gaining a snicker from Derek’s throat.

“Hey, I thought about it, it’s a great idea. The perverts don’t have to feel too much of a pervert when they see us just fucking around, being human,” he giggles as you felt your neck tickle from the relentlessness of his tongue.

His phone on the nightstand buzzed, making him groan slightly and reach for it, looking at his notification.

“Fuck,” he says.

“What?”

“Fuck!”

You were confused. “D—”

“I have a meeting to go to, fuck,” he answered, kissing your lips quickly, getting off of you as he tried to retrieve his clothes.

“What the fuck, Derek, I thought you said your schedule was clear this whole day,” you frown, sitting up slightly against the bed frame as you watched him put his clothes back on.

“Well, turns out that was tomorrow. I have a fuckin’ meeting with these, like, international dudes, I don’t fuckin’ know,” Derek mumbles, buttoning up his shirt, then reaching down on the ground for his shoes. “I’m sorry, baby. I really wanted to lay with you the whole day,” he apologizes with a shameful sigh.

“It’s okay, baby. We could always—”

You stopped in your tracks.

“Are those fucking Heelys?”

Watching him glide to the desk to retrieve his wristwatch made you physically cringe, looking at him in disbelief with an open mouth.

He looked at you curiously while putting on his watch. “Uh, yeah, they are, why?”

You stifle your laughs. “Oh my fucking god, you’re ridiculous, babe.”

“What? What’s wrong with Heelys?”

“Nothing. Everything,” you reply, snickers beginning to leave your lips. “It’s just… You just made love to me, came balls deep inside of me on camera, and now you’re just—gliding around the room with fucking Heelys, holy shit.”

He pursed his lips then nodded with a slight, knowing smirk. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“You are ridiculous!” You exclaim amusedly. With his Heelys, he rolled towards you, and you began to giggle and laugh after he pulled the sheets off of your torso, covering your belly in several, ticklish kisses. “Fuck, stop that!” You cackle, squirming around and trying to push him away.

You two share one more long, passionate kiss on the lips as he smiles at you, walking towards the door afterwards. “See you when I get back, baby,” he chuckles with giddy after seeing your adorable state.

“Mm, don’t party too hard,” you joke with a smirk.

“Oh, please, the closest thing to a party that those old fucks have to offer is their shitty ass wine,” he scoffs with a cocky grin.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Don’t be long.”

“I’ll be back before you know it. And hey, maybe we could try to film another one?” He raises an eyebrow once he opens the door, still looking back at you.

“Deal,” you grin. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

[janitorhutcherson]

the chokehold derek danforth already has on me (they finally did light hair right on him)

[joshfutturman]

'blonde'

✭ jhutch promptober prompt 1 - blonde oneshot - derek is struggling to figure out his identity after surviving the beekeepers attempt to hunt him down. with his life falling apart, losing his money and his reputation, he attempts to bleach his own hair. (1k words) pairing - derek danforth (the beekeeper 2024) + gn!reader tags - established relationship, reader lives with derek, angsty, derek tries to cut and bleach his own hair, kinda fluffy at times, not trying to excuse dereks actions in the movie but reader comforts him.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it was rare for silence to fall upon derek's penthouse. he wasn't a quiet man, this you knew. the times he was quiet? that's when you worried. the anxious silence that surrounds him, the fidgeting with objects he finds to fill his shaky hands - you know derek like the back of your own hand, you can recognise when he's on edge. and he has been, almost constantly lately.

so the silence fills you with dread as you wipe the sleep from your eyes and drag yourself from his luxurious sheets. after the beekeeper incident, you'd often awake to find him scanning the horizon from his balcony, knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping the metal. it won't be long until this apartment is ripped from him too, the one he'd come to love, treated as his sanctuary - it was where he'd go to escape with you. his money? gone. his reputation? non-existent. his relationship with his mother? that wasn't worth mentioning.

derek had nothing left.

nothing except for you.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you approach the en-suite, running your hands across the wooden frame of the door as you peer inside. that's when you find him. your shoulders dip when you see the small bundle of hair in the sink, eyes drifting up to meet his in the mirror. you've never seen him trim his own hair before, he'd insist on only the best salons, the best hairdressers, only ever the best.

but now, seeing him in his bathroom, blonde curls delicately falling onto the white porcelain. . . you can't help but feel like you're looking at the shell of a man you once knew.

he's wearing gloves, the bleach is already mixed, you can see his phone on the edge of the sink with what looks like some sort of tutorial playing.

he's attempting to bleach his own hair.

you walk over, noting the way his gaze flits from you back down to the task at hand like he doesn't care you're seeing him this way. . . except he does. this wasn't what you signed up for, he knew that. the endless stream of gifts stopped the moment his bank accounts were frozen, and though you say you don't care, he doesn't believe you. he wants to spoil you, to drown you in luxury like he always did.

because, after all, who is derek danforth without the fortune? without the penthouse? without the successful multi-billion dollar enterprise? without the yacht or the entourage?

who is he, but just another successful man who has fallen from grace? he should have known he was doomed to this path the moment he was born.

derek's not sure he knows who he is anymore, the one constant in his life being you. and man, is he grateful. you're the first thing he searches for in the morning when his eyes flutter open in the early hours, they find you and for a moment, he savours the feeling that things might just be alright - even if only for the period of time that he holds you.

and here you are again, approaching him from behind. you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his bare back as you relish in the close contact. you feel him exhale deeply, a gloved hand coming down to steady himself at the sink and the other finds yours on his stomach.

he looks at himself in the mirror, meeting his own gaze. derek can feel tears coming as he glares down a man he hardly recognises, but he wills the tears to stay at bay. if he starts, he doesn't know if he can stop.

you see him like this, yet you stay. you see him desperately trying to retain some semblance of the identity he came to wear like a freshly pressed suit, slipping through his fingers. . . but you're there to gently take his hand in yours, guide them away from clawing at the walls to escape the hole he's put himself in.

you're there to love him, to acknowledge his mistakes and to let him own up to the consequences of his foolish actions. you'll be there to help put him back together again, in whatever way that might be, however he comes out the other end of this.

". . . thanks," he mumbles, voice shaky and unsure, like he wasn't quite ready to talk but felt it was important you heard it.

you smile, and he feels it against the smooth freckled skin of his back. "anytime," a beat, "let me help?"

derek feels you remove yourself from the embrace and carefully begin to remove his gloves to put them on your own hands. he watches you as you gently strip them from him, he notes the tenderness in your actions.

"i love you," he half whispers in a tone that sounds both apologetic and deeply sincere, like he's sorry you love him. his expression breaks your heart when you pull your attention from the gloves, watching as his eyes trace over your features, a frown pulling at his lips.

it doesn't matter to you if he has the money, if he has the look, the blonde curls or the house. what matters is the way he looks into your eyes as if you're everything he's ever dreamed of, no amount of money or gifts can ever give you the same feeling that does.

you smile softly, "i love you too, babe." you say, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, as if it's the easiest thing in the world to you.

and he smiles, closing his eyes as your hand cups his cheek in a comforting gesture, one to let him know that you're here and you're not going anywhere. you couldn't. because you love him - you love the man you fell in love with, not the image he projects, not the one he presents to the world.

you just love him. you love derek, the one standing in front of you now, hands shaking as he eyes the blonde curls in the sink.

[sleepyhutcherson]

Hey, hi! I saw your post and wanted to ask, if possible, some smut with Derek where he gets jealous of all the attention reader is getting at a party? Thank youuu

18+, minors dni, NSFW, jealousy, possessiveness, choking, rough sex, penetration, pretty simple and rushed :/ forgive me.

i miss the beekeeper era 😕😕 jhutch fandom oct ‘23 - feb ‘24 was peak :’)

DEREK DANFORTH groans into your ear, slamming into you from behind. You’re bent over a bathroom sink, chest pressed against the cool marble. You’re watching him thrust into you from the mirror in front of you, his arm tightly wrapped around your neck while he forces you to watch.

“Thought it was okay to flirt with those guys, hm?” He asks, continuing to fuck you. God, he felt so, so good. So big.

You shake your head, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from being stretched out, your hole continuously getting abused by his cock.

With his other hand, he gives your ass a harsh smack, “speak up.” He commands, tightening his arm that’s wrapped around your throat just to see you struggle. He smirks at you from the mirror.

“N-no,” you struggle to speak, but manage a croaked response. He buries his face into the side of your neck, taking in your scent.

“Promise?” He asks, his lips ghosting against your skin. The question sends shivers down your entire body.

You knew Derek was possessive— especially over you. It’s not like you guys were exclusive…and yet, he wanted you all for himself. He hated the idea of you with anyone else, he hated to see you chat up with other men, like you had been tonight. He hated the attention you were receiving tonight.

“I promise.” You respond, clenching around him causing him to let out a rather pathetic moan into your ear. He picks up the pace, watching through the mirror how beautiful you looked taking his cock so perfectly. He only ever felt this way with you.

[xcherryerim]

˖⁺ ⊹୨ Fogged up ୧⊹ ⁺˖

Derek with glasses x gn!reader (wc: 3k)

I might make it wonderful for once. In my life but nothing's quite like it was. Surprised something inside me is a blur. Hindsight I should've lifted my eyes — Blur by The marías

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18

WARNING: Sexual tension | friends with benefits | thigh riding | handjob | penetration | in the middle of sex love confession and rambles | Porn with plot | Not proofread (literally did not revised this once so, shitty probably) | no use of y/n. | quicky | Needy Derek for life!

credits for the derek with glasses edit: strwbrryhutch

Backstory: In a sudden visit to your best friend's house, you stepped inside, immediately taking notice of something different, Derek was wearing glasses, a sight you had not seen since your freshman year in college. The sight of him wearing glasses immediately brought back a flood of memories of the old Derek.

Today was a drag, and what does a bored person do? Meddle in someone's business just for shits and giggles.

You summoned your driver, instructing him to take you straight to Derek's mansion. Unsolicited visits were common between you two, it never phased him or you, especially if it meant fucking his brains out. 

Stepping into the white palace, you couldn't help but admire the gaudy paintings adorning the walls. The colors and patterns were disgusting and loud to the eye, a familiar sight at that. It was, truly…Derek. 

You strutted in, hands swaying rhythmically, plotting ways to tease the man, but upon entering his office, surprise struck: Derek, the epitome of irresponsibility, was actually working? And to top it off, he had the audacity to wear glasses.

A soft snicker escaped your lips, but before you could voice your thoughts, Derek flipped you off, his gaze still glued to his laptop. "Fuck off." Derek's voice was rough, weary, and irritated.

"Hello to you too, prick." You retorted, lowering his raised finger before leaning closer to his desk, curious at this newish side of him. "What's up?" 

"I need to write an email to some asshole I don't care about." He sighed.

"Isn't your secretary the one who's supposed to handle that?" You questioned, bewildered by his predicament. You snatched his vape, blowing the air back at him in a show of defiance.

"Yeah, but she’s on a break because she just popped out a kid or something."

"Derek! You knocked up your secretary?!"

"What?! No," he stuttered, backtracking. "I haven't— never mind." Derek reclaimed his mint-colored e-cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoky air from his plump lips. 

"Let me see your masterpiece." Inclining beside him, you scrutinized the Word document. Your eyes widened in amusement as you saw only three meek words. 

"Motherfucker, you wrote three words. You're like SpongeBob in that meme, taking forever to write, 'The.' "

Derek's face flushed bright red as he realized how embarrassing this situation had become. His arrogance and self-assuredness crumbled momentarily as he was caught in such a vulnerable state. A small whimper escaped his lips, but he quickly regained his composure. “What does that even mean? You’re fucking weird.” He muttered, trying to salvage his pride. 

"Whatever." You waved your hand as if to vanish the conversation, then you asked, "Why the glasses, though?" 

"My contacts were drying the fuck out of my eyes from overuse, so the eye doctor or whatever, suggested I wear these more often." Derek explained, mumbling to himself, trying to decide what next words to write.

God," you grinned, your eyes sparkling with nostalgia. "I haven't seen you wear those glasses since we were freshmen.”

“Don’t fucking remind me.” Derek groaned, tugging at his face, a tic indicative of his discomfort.

“You were such a dork.” Laughter escaped you, and you idly ran your finger along the rim of his dark blue sleeve, the material smooth and luxurious.

"Don't you have anything better to do than bothering me?!" His squinty eyes held a hint of annoyance.

“Honestly? no, not really.” You replied nonchalantly, moving behind the chair to get close to him. Your index finger lightly tapped the temples of his spectacles, sporting a distinctive animal print. If he wasn’t wearing the glasses, you would mistake them for an old lady's pair. 

“Does it look like a give a fuck? Because I don’t.” Derek mocked, standing tall. “Now, go do something while I finish this dumbass fucking email.” Derek orders, typing on his laptop as he bit his lip, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. 

Tilting your head, you eyed the man with sun-bleached locks, in dire need of root touch-ups. It was like an impromptu trip down memory lane to the college library, where the studious Derek sat.

His square-rimmed glasses, unkempt hair, and outfit fit for Mister Rogers made him appear as a librarian in disguise, until you noticed the dumbass was wearing his student ID like a first grader. Despite looking like a librarian, there was something charming and endearing about his appearance. You couldn't help but fantasize about seducing him, pinning him against the nearest wall, and making him surrender to you.

Fate, however, took its time. Instead, a deep friendship between you and Derek developed. As time passed, you watched him transform into the man he is today. The memory of that encounter lingered in your mind, like a sweet, comforting scent, as you observed him in the present moment.

You chuckled to yourself as you reflected on the past, watching Derek in the present moment. A thought suddenly crossed your mind: "How would my younger self react if I said that Derek and I would actually become friends with benefits?"

That particular day was indelibly etched in your memory. It was Mickey's birthday, and Derek, intoxicated by merriment and possibly something stronger, seized your hand amidst Mickey's rambling speech. He led you to Mickey's room, and once the door closed, his unsteady form collided with yours. His mouth found your lips, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He proceeded by telling his desire to fuck you in that black outfit you were wearing at the party. From that night on, things had remained the same yet shifted in the shadows, with a newfound intimacy between the two of you.

The flood of memories overwhelmed you, your mind spinning. Your gaze settled on Derek, who appeared perplexed and agitated. 

“What are you looking at? Why are you still—“ 

Invading his space as you sat on his thigh, you prompted a sharp intake of breath from him. The lenses of his glasses misted over, a testament to the rapidity of Derek's breathing. 

He swallowed hard, trying to regain control. “Really, right now? When I'm busy? I swear you always pick the worst time on purpose. Fucking brat.” 

His fingers gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles turning white as he struggled to focus on anything other than the sensation of your body on his thigh. His eyes scanned your body, taking in your every curve and movement. 

“Shut the fuck up.” You growled, tugging at his hair to emphasize your point, garnering a lustful rumble from his lips. "You know you love it." Moving your hips, you teased him, causing his head to roll back, a smirk spreading across his face.

“And if you wanna talk about brats, I suggest taking a look in the mirror.” 

“Pfff.” Derek muttered, hands trying to remove his glasses before you stopped him. “What?!” He asked, clearly annoyed.

“Keep them.” You said, more than a demand than a request. 

“What, why? I look goofy as shit.” Derek huffed, giving you a look that screamed annoyance.

A quiet moan slipped from Derek's lips as your hands roamed over the fabric, his excitement growing more apparent. His voice came out muffled, "H-how am I supposed to fuck you with these glasses on?"

"You'll figure it out," you replied playfully, slowly tugging the glasses down his nose. The intoxicating scent of his desire permeated the air.

In a swift motion, you dominated his body, your lips hungrily seeking his. Derek, still fumbling to discard his glasses due to the steamy makeout session, met your demanding grip.

Grabbing his wrist, you halted his attempts to remove them. After enduring his persistent complaints, he finally relented, accepting your terms – if he wanted to be fucked, he'd have to keep the glasses on for you.

“Great, now I can’t see shit.” Derek grumbled as you created some distance between you two.

"Exactly," you chimed, a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hey, if you're into that, we could always try a literal blindfold. We've done it before, haven't we?”

"True, but it's not the same, Derek." You replied, your warm hands caressing the cold zipper of his pants. Slowly, you pulled it down, exposing his cheetah-print boxers.

“You look hot with glasses, you know? I didn't think I'd miss such a small detail, but... I guess I did." You shrugged, a wistful smile playing on your lips.

Derek caught your expression, picking up on the bittersweet nostalgia that seemed to surround you.

"Wait, so you're implying that you found me attractive back in college?" Derek asked, seeking validation for his former self more than genuine inquiry.

"Come on, you dress like a mess and people still think you're hot. A pair of glasses isn't going to change that." You teased, followed by a soft sigh. "But yeah, I did have a thing for you back then. I actually had a little crush on you."

Derek's eyes widened, the glasses making them appear even larger and more vibrant, perfectly complementing the blush that crept across his tanned skin. You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulps hard, his lips quivering as he struggles to find the right words. It's clear he's desperate to say something, anything, but he remains tongue-tied.

Finally, he places his hands on you, guiding your body to grind against his neglected leg. "So... you're not saying anything?" Your voice carries a delicate mix of playfulness and uncertainty. You can't help but wonder if you've crossed a line by being so honest, or if you're just setting yourself up for rejection.

Those fears race through your mind, but you try to mask them with a lighthearted tone. You can't help but feel exposed, vulnerable, as you wait for his response.

"I don't know what to say," Derek stumbled over his words, his hands shaking as they gripped your hips. "I've had feelings for you since day one, but I never felt good enough for you. So finding out you've liked me all this time... it makes me feel fucking pathetic."

His breathing grew ragged, heart pounding against his chest, rendered speechless by the vulnerability of his confession and the intense burn coursing through him from your touch.

"You're still pathetic," you whispered, lips trailing along his neck, fingers deftly freeing his straining erection from his boxers. "But you're my pathetic."

The declaration hung in the air, charged with a mix of affection and desire. Derek's entire being was consumed by the sensation of your touch, the weight of your words, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

"Oh, fuck," Derek whimpered, his back arching in response to your kisses and nibbles along his neck. Your fingers traced his veins, adding to the sensory overload caused by the foggy glasses.

"I have to finish writing this email before five," he insisted, biting his lip to stifle any further cries.

"So what? I'm just here to help. You can still write your email without being too distracted," you replied mischievously, guiding his trembling hands back to the keyboard.

Annoyed but complying, Derek attempted to type as your hand began to stroke him. His fingers moved clumsily across the keys, resulting in a disjointed and sloppy email. He grunted, struggling to focus on the task at hand and the intense sensations consuming him.

"You're making this more difficult than it needs to be," he growled, his voice dripping with desire.

"That's my favorite part," you replied with a wicked grin, increasing the tempo of your strokes. Your fingers teased the tip each time they reached the top, driving Derek wild with pleasure.

As he cursed under his breath, you pressed your hips against his leg once more, making his head roll back in ecstasy. 

Derek let out a guttural hiss, clenching his jaw to suppress the urge to cry out in pleasure. His body tense, veins popping in his neck as he fought to maintain control.

"Oh Derek, we're just getting started," you teased. "Come on baby, finish that email for me so we can have some real fun."

“Ugh! I’m going to kill you... eventually, once I’m done with this.” Derek's eyes were twitching as he tried to focus on the screen, those glasses now a nuisance amidst his stress. 

"You know you'd miss me terribly if I wasn't around to pester you all the time, you bitch," you whispered in his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

Derek's body shook, barely able to contain thirst, the overwhelming sensations threatening to push him past the point of no return. His whiny, desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as you dismissed his empty threats.

"Let me take a look at what you've got so far," you insisted, turning your head slightly to scan the jumbled words on the screen. "C'mon Derek, I won't let you finish until you've written something actually decent."

Derek's eyes widened in shock as he realized the gibberish he'd been typing, which only added to his frustration. He growled, his grip on the keyboard tightening as his thrusts into your hand became more forceful, bordering on desperate.

With great effort, he managed to string together a few coherent sentences, his arousal and irritation bleeding into every word. His breaths came in ragged gasps, heart pounding, as he fought to focus on the task at hand.

Finally, Derek declared he was done, but instead of relief, you intensified your assault on his aching shaft and thigh, teasing him mercilessly as you slowly read the email aloud.

"Wow, looks like you really do need to pay people to do your work for you," you mumbled with a light chuckle.

Derek's face flushed a deep crimson, his skin burning with a mix of embarrassment and pure, raw desire. "Fuck you, you're not helping," he spat, his voice strained with longing.

Despite his determination to stay composed, the relentless teasing combined with the foggy glasses and your skilled hand on his length pushed Derek closer and closer to the end. His eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by the intense sensations surging through his body.

"Please, just fuck me," he whimpered, the words barely audible as he struggled to contain his desperation.

Unable to resist his pleading, puppy-dog eyes, you swiftly straddled him, guiding his shaft to your waiting sex.

A thrill of anticipation ran through him, the feeling of your warmth surrounding him almost driving him over the edge. Derek's grip on your waist tightened as his cockhead teased your entrance. The anticipation was maddening, and he could feel his control slipping with each passing second.

"Please, just take me." His voice was a hoarse whisper, desperation thick in every word. He was at your mercy, the heat and wetness around his tip driving him wild.

“You’re so fucking impatient.” You growled, as you slowly sank into him, taking all of him inside you. 

Derek let out a loud cry, his body arching up off the chair as you enveloped him. The feeling was intense, and he clutched at you, his nails digging into your skin.

He was at your mercy, his body shuddering as you took your time with him, savoring the feeling of being so completely inside you. His mouth opened, but no words came out, the sensation too overwhelming to form even a coherent thought.

His glasses, still fogged, only added to the sensory overload, the world outside blurring as all he could focus on was the way you moved on him.

Each inch inside you was a gift, a blessing, and he was lost in the feeling of possessing you, even for a moment.

“Well you being teasing me all fucking night.” Derek replied back in between ragged breaths 

Derek's breathing grew more erratic, the wish to claim you, to be inside you, to taste you, to possess you, all-consuming. "Fuck, just... ride me."

He gripped your waist, his body arching off the chair, desperate for more. His heart raced, and he could barely breathe as he awaited your next move.

“Someone really needs to teach you fucking patience.” You replied moving your body against his, with each word using more force than the last, the harsh sound of skin against skin echoing in the room of the mansion. 

Derek's moans grew louder, each word you spoke followed by a groan, his body bucking against you, desperate for more.

“So fucking tight." Derek cried, his voice heavy with lust. He couldn't help but buck his waist, trying to take you deeper, leaving faint crescents in their wake. "Fuck... I need to fill you up." He gritted out. The crave to mark you, overwhelming him. His glasses, still mist over, served only as a lens to the whirlwind of lust consuming him. 

“Till I'm dripping with your cum Derek.” You answered, nibbling in his ear. Derek grabbed your ass, guiding it and bouncing it up and down around his length. 

"I'm not gonna- I’m not going to last much longer." He gasped out, his voice thick with lust, the words barely coherent as he struggled to maintain control.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, their movements growing more urgent, more primal. Derek's glasses clouded, his vision blurred, the only thing that mattered was the feeling of possessing you, the way your body fit around him, the way you rode him.

He was powerless against the tide of lust that washed over him, the line between desire and need blurring as he teetered on the brink.

“Me neither.” You replied, your body jumping above his as you took him in and out. 

Derek's body tensed, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils, driving him further into the abyss. "Baby, I'm... I'm gonna..."

His voice hitched, the warning barely out before a hot spurt of cum filled you, the orgasm tearing through him like a tidal wave. His grip on your tightened, his nails digging in as he shuddered, each spurt a testament to his lust.

You soon reach your orgasm after, your tight walls milking him dry. 

The world spun around him, the fogged glasses only adding to the dizzying sensation. He was left panting, his body spent, the aftershocks of the orgasm coursing through him as he tried to regain his breath.

Derek's eyelids fluttered, and he leaned his head back against the chair, the realization that he'd just been completely dominated, sinking in.

The nepo baby, the spoiled son of the president, had been brought to his knees by his closest friend. It was both humiliating and exhilarating, an experience he knew he wouldn't forget.

He whispered, nipping gently. "You win, brat." 

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! If you're specifically interested in my explicit content, be sure to follow me on @xxxcherryerim, where I'll be reblogging my work from there. Alternatively, you could join my taglist

tags 🍒: @wemnui @freak-accident419 @joshfutturman

@sleepyhutcherson @h3len1602