Summary: You read over the statistics and analytics for Derek’s company, as he requested. Except, while you do this, you’re on his bed, lower half of your body exposed as he does lines of cocaine on your thigh—then he eats you out.
WC: 1.2k
Content: 18+ smut, MDNI, derek danforth x reader (gn!afab!reader), oral (v!receiving), no spoilers for The Beekeeper, brief (yet detailed) cocaine/drug use, graphic depictions of sex and drugs (this is probably the filthiest thing i ever wrote on here), cursing
(A/n: I couldn’t wait to write it, so here !! Haven’t watched the movie yet, but if I notice that there’s anything incorrect here once I do, I’ll go back and change it ! I’m so sorry to my AMAB readers and/or the AFAB readers who get dysphoria from this type of writing !! You can check out my other smuts that aren’t genital-specific !! Love you all!! And thanks to everyone for your support !! Anyways, I think that Derek doing coke on the reader is such a Derek thing to do.)
Your rich boyfriend, Derek Danforth, asked you to read over the statistics and analytics of his phishing center, informing him how much money he’s earned in the past week.
Except it wasn’t a very professional or orderly way.
You laid on his bed, looking at the information on your phone, reading how much millions were gained on Thursday, while your entire lower body was naked. You two were always a very intimate couple, so this wasn’t new or had invoked any feelings of diffidence, as your legs were spread out across the mattress.
He snorted a line of cocaine, pressing down on one of his nostrils to inhale the drug after spilling the white powder onto your thigh and scraping it into several thin lines using one of his credit cards. It felt tingly, to have him do this on your thigh, his head ever so close to your cunt. While this occurred, his free hand was resting on your other bare thigh.
He let out an ecstatic groan afterward, and then looked at you as his high rushed in. “What—What’d you say again, baby?”
You chuckle softly at his mannerisms. “I said that in total, for Thursday at least, UDG obtained, like, over six fucking million,” you reply, looking over the statistics on your phone again. “Business is booming.”
Derek smirked as he was satisfied to hear the news. “Damn fuckin’ right it is.”
His body slightly tensed up as he quickly inhaled another white line on your thigh through his nostril, briefly rubbing his nose afterwards. The sharp inhale caused him to feel a surge of euphoria throughout his body as the drugs entered his system. His eyes closed in pleasure, then opened, pupils slightly dilated.
You watched him do this, taking a short drag of your cigarette. “Last week’s average was five point two million dollars,” you add, observing him as he corrected the final line with the card, straightening it out onto your thigh.
“So what was the total earned in that week?” He inquired as your cigarette remained hanging from your mouth.
“Thirty-six million dollars, baby,” you answer proudly while he inhales the last line quite harshly, and heard him whoop as he gained exhilaration from both the drug and the statistics.
You finally place your phone down on the night stand to give full attention to your boyfriend. You bring your hand to his hair, tangling his soft, light curls in your fingers. “Congratulations,” you praise gently, watching Derek close his eyes in pleasure, leaving a small kiss on your thigh.
He placed the package of coke on the night stand and adjusted himself on the bed between your legs. He continued to leave soft kisses on your thigh, gradually trailing towards your untouched pussy.
“Mm, I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?” He observed, demonstrating a hint of pity. “Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he huffs, pulling your hips closer to his face as he finally licked up your cunt in an animalistic fashion.
You let out a soft sigh, your fingers still in his hair, and you grab the cigarette out of your mouth, immediately putting it out on the ashtray.
Derek’s warm tongue caressed along your folds exuberantly, moving up and down as your breath hitched. He gripped your thighs tightly, pushing his face even further in your cunt. You let out a gasp—almost a moan—as he flicked your clit with his tongue, stimulating the sensitive nub which elicited even more intense sounds from your mouth.
“O-oh, fuck, Derek!” You moaned as you felt him suck at your clit, closing his lips around it while lightly moving his hands up and down from your thighs to your sensitive hips, thumb pushing down on your pelvic bone for a brief moment, causing more pleasure within you. “S-so good, love… Fuck, yes.”
He lapped at your dripping pussy once more, threatening to poke inside each time his tongue ran over your entrance. He incessantly licked at you, so desperately and lustfully, occasionally tugging at your flesh between his soft lips.
“Taste s’fucking good,” he mutters between his rapid licks, “S’fucking good for me Y/n…” He rubbed off some leftover powder on your thigh, messily inhaling it through his nose for enhanced stimulus.
Your thighs jolting as you let out a high-pitched whine once you felt his tongue finally push inside your wet, aching cunt. He was eating you out as if you were forbidden fruit, because he would rather die than never be able to taste you. Pleasing to the eye, he really couldn’t help it. He was practically making out with your pussy, exploring your walls with his generous tongue.
Your legs closed around his head and you brought both of your hands to his hair, tugging his curls, which gets a muffled groan out of him, the vibration causing you to feel even more pleasure. Your breath hitched and you choked out a moan as you felt his nose bumping against your clit as he ate you out. Derek felt so hazy and foggy from his high, and because everything was so sensitive for him, he could practically cum untouched from how much arousal he gained from pleasing you. Not only was he high on cocaine, but he was also high on your taste, and hearing you moan was his ultimate addiction.
“Sh-shit, Derek…” Your head turned to the side tiredly, eyes threatening to close as you felt overwhelmed with all the stimulation. Derek hooked one of his arms around your thigh so he could place his hand warmly on your stomach, below your belly button yet over your cunt, now focusing more on his precision.
You felt yourself closer to your orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing onto you each second. Derek slipped his tongue out, just to spread your pussy lips apart with his fingers, and then lap his tongue against your cunt again sloppily, making your thighs twitch, incoherent whimpers escaping your mouth. “Holy shit, you’re so fucking hot…” he mumbles.
You let out a high-pitched moan as his long, slender middle finger inserted into you effortlessly, quick, deep thrusts provoking wet, vulgar squelches while he simultaneously sucked your clit again. He pulled out his finger smoothly, abrasively running it between your soaked folds, then pushed it back in deeply.
“G-God! Fuck!” You whined, back arching as you succumbed to his touch. Abruptly, he spit on your cunt, lapped his tongue on you, switching constantly between your folds and your clit. You felt a knot in your stomach, in which Derek’s free hand had still remained resting on it. His licks were fast and rough, and you felt yourself being driven over the edge. “G—Fuck, Derek, b-baby, I-I’m—”
“That’s it, that’s it, baby,” he encouraged softly in between licks. He looked at you hungrily with his deep brown eyes, “Cum for me.”
The second you heard his command, you came hard around his finger, moaning his name loudly as he slipped it out to desperately taste your juices, him groaning in your cunt. You whimpered and shuddered uncontrollably, his insistent touch bringing you to overstimulation. He kissed it a few times, then brought himself up from the mattress to make you with you, lips moving with yours as it allowed you to taste yourself.
“Fucking love you,” he muttered in the kiss. “So good for me, Y/n, fuck.” He held you in his arms softly, being as gentle as he could, rubbing your arms up and down comfortingly. The room smelled like sex, as the atmosphere consisted of only your deep breaths and the soft, wet smacking of your kisses.
“Fuck,” you panted, and the corner of your lips curled into a relieved smile until you kissed him again. “I love you too.”
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!
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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.
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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.
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‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @BooNam
‧₊˚ ily!!
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Description: You have been working as Derek's assistant for a month now and things haven't gone the way that you would have hoped. The actual job was more than what was in the job description. One night, when Derek asks for you, a seemingly innocent request, you snap.
✭ 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.
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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.
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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.
oneshot - derek has a vivid dream in which he's being hunted. (for a writing group im a part of, basically he has a memory in the form of a dream from the timeline of the movie!) (1k words)
character - derek danforth (the beekeeper)
tags: angst, nightmares, cussing, brief drug mention
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derek wasn’t normally the type to get too many nightmares. he would never really remember his dreams at all. when he went to bed at night in whichever bedroom in his house he desired, beside whomever he desired, he was knocked out like a light. that’s just what happens when you have all the money you could ever dream of and stink of privilege, that was derek danforths life.
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it wasn’t like he never experienced stress. in reality derek was more stressed than he would ever let on. running his business wasn’t easy despite what people would say. a nepo baby who never had to want for anything. legitimacy and morals aside, derek worked his ass off. danforth enterprises was what it was today because of him. not anyone else. not his mother. and certainly not his father.
so it was no surprise that his nightmare that night rattled him.
from the get go, he felt a swirling sense of paranoia invade its way around his skull like a ghost as he slips into the nightmare. it seeps through every crack, every crevice it can worm its way into. that same fear spread down his limbs and across his back, making his shoulders grow tense.
this didn’t feel like work stress, it felt worse. it felt more intense. it felt more threatening. more than just mindless work shit was on his mind. why couldn’t he place it?
derek felt cornered, sitting in his mothers office. his eyes dart between the windows and the doors. it felt as though the walls were closing in, threatening to crush him. he shrinks back into the chair, his hand coming up to pick at the side of his face - a habit his mother loathed and never kept quiet about.
but mom wasn’t here. no one was. it was just derek, alone.
his phone buzzes and he jumps in his seat, frightening him more than it should. shakily, his hand reaches out to pick it up, holding it so tightly that he might snap it in half if he’s not careful.
there’s breathing on the other end, and that causes his back to straighten. “who the fuck is that?” he spits out, feeling his breathing pick up pace.
the other line stays eerily quiet and this freaks him out more. fuck. were they already nearby? his eyes dart towards the windows again, expecting to see a figure only to be greeted with. . . absolutely nothing. an impending sense of doom spurs in his mind, unsure of where to go to alleviate it. he felt trapped, cornered. and derek didn’t like that. he didn’t enjoy feeling like a prey animal, when all his life he always presented as predator.
“i said who the fuck is that?!” he calls out again, gripping the arm of the chair.
still nothing on the other end. until.
“i’m coming.” is all the voice says.
derek holds back a gasp, the voice confirming his fears.
he swallows hard and prays his voice not to shake, “fuck off. you can fucking try, bitch.” derek growls, but it’s clear to anyone who knows him just how much he’s rattled. before the other person can reply, he presses the disconnect button and throws his phone across the room.
breath escaping him, he pants, raking his fingers through his hair.
no one would let anything happen to him, right? there was no way. he was too important. there were so many people he could pay to protect his life. he could hear his fathers words ringing in his ears, ‘i told you so.’. derek lets out a whine and covers his ears.
no, no, no. this wasn’t happening. this absolutely fucking wasn’t happening right now.
every creek within the old walls had him jumping, completely on edge. his heart races away from him. he’s seconds away from calling for his mom, hands aching to grip onto something real, something that could ground him. he feels pathetic for wanting his mother, but something deep inside him tells him that not even she could make him feel better.
and he’s glad no one else can see him like this. he’d never act this way in front of anyone. derek wasn’t known for his calm and collected manner, but he tried to never show weakness in the form of fear. he kept it bottled up, hidden away until he could get his hands on something that made him feel at ease, usually in the form of that sweet white powder he loved so much.
so now, completely alone, he comes undone. he can feel tears form in his eyes as he grits his teeth. derek wasn’t ready to die. he had his whole life to live. who’d provide for his mom when he was gone? no one else could do the job like him. they’d just fuck it up. she’d lose her position and it’d be all their fault.
derek didn’t want to die. he couldn’t. silently he begs for more time.
until he’s ripped from his sleep with a gasp. derek grips the sheets as he sits up, gasping for breath over and over. for a few seconds, it feels like he’s still in that office. but after a few blinks, his surroundings come back to him. he’s home.
but it doesn’t feel the same. it doesn’t feel safe. he doesn’t feel so untouchable now. he almost feels. . . vulnerable.
he grabs at the bedsheets beside him and realises that no ones there. he suddenly regrets sleeping alone. he releases shaky breaths from his nose and reluctantly lays back down. gathering the duvet against him, he wraps himself tightly within it and lays with his back against the headboard, eyes scanning the room.
his bedroom suddenly felt too big. his eyes move between each object as if looking for any form of a threat. did the curtain just move? fuck. he was losing it.
the digital clock on his nightstand blinks: 3:21am. it was a long way to go till morning. and derek couldn’t bring himself to move.
instead, he sat like this until the sun crept into his bedroom, bringing a small sense of safety. but that feeling of unease stayed in his mind, pricking him whenever he got too comfortable. no time to relax, always on high alert.
he realises he isn't as untouchable as he once thought. and that thought. . . fucking terrifies him.
