"Two Sugars" - Part 2, Derek Danforth (The Beekeeper, 2024, Film) - Imagine
Description: As promised by Derek Danforth himself, an at-home coffee date takes a turn for the not-so-unexpected. / Derek Danforth x GN!Reader
General Notes: 18+, MDNI!!, Pure Smut, Some Plot (barely), Gender Neutral Reader (no use of Y/N, no mention of specific genitalia, "hole" and "entrance" are used), A Little Bit Of Nipple Play, Not-Sanitary Kitchen Sex, Oral Sex (reader and derek), Use Of Lube And Spit, Fingering (reader), Penetrative Sex (reader), No Use Of A Condom, Creampie (reader), Second Person POV, Use Of Pet Names ("sugar", "baby", "pretty thing"), Dirty Talk/Banter, Some Degradation (toward reader, "slut"), Some Praise (toward reader), Use Of Curse Words (derek says fuck a lot + others), A Little Bit Of Abuse Of Power, Reader Has A Little Internal Dialogue (italics)
Author's Note: Author's first smut! Lol. This took a lot, so I'm totally open to any critiques regarding this! This is also officially the longest thing I've ever written on Tumblr. Shoutout to @anal-spaghetti-monster for helping proofread this! Enjoy!
Word Count: 3,712 Words
Part 1
This car was way too fancy for your taste. You nervously pull down on your top as you look around, fiddling with the edge of it and slightly fraying the ends. It's got practically an entire bar lined up behind the driver and a goddamn sunroof. You're almost tempted to stand out of it like you're straight out of a coming-of-age film. Are those all-around seat warmers? You continue to ogle at the intricacies of the vehicle currently taking you to a billionaire's house. Your boss's house. This was almost too much for you to handle.
Before you can spiral over the thought, the car pulls into an extremely lavish-looking mansion, completely glazing over any thoughts you have on the mode of transportation. The vehicle stops and the driver runs around the car to open the door for you, holding his hand out and almost bowing as you step out of the car.
"O-oh," you stutter out, not used to this sort of treatment. "Thank you."
You look up toward the large staircase leading to the mansion's front door and see a figure standing at the top. You can see smoke flowing from the figure briefly before dissipating. The wind blowing made you realize you forgot to bring a coat. You shiver as you walk up the stairs to meet the figure, which you can see clearer now. Mr. Danforth himself. He was smiling as he took another hit from his pen, blowing the smoke toward you with little remorse. Once the smoke clears, you take in his attire. He hadn't changed. Still wearing that ugly green print button-up and orange jacket. Still very tacky. He sticks his pen in his pocket and reaches his hand out to you, still smiling.
"Hey, sugar."
You roll your eyes playfully, smiling back as you reach your hand out toward his. He brings your hand up to his lips. Ever the charmer...
"Come on in." He gently pulls you closer to him and leads you inside his house, the door being opened by another one of his staff members.
Derek walks in first, taking you with him as he lets you look around. The inside was just as impressive as you imagined it'd be. It was more formal than you anticipated, but still expensive-looking nonetheless.
"Nice, right?" He smiles at you, looking you up and down.
"It is...really nice..." You trail off, still taking in your surroundings.
You're not sure if you've ever even been in a mansion before. He lets you admire for a few moments longer before breaking the silence.
"Well, I did promise you coffee, didn't I? Follow me."
He pulls you away, fixing your gaze back to him and leading you to an adjacent room. The kitchen, where a couple of his staff members are standing at attention, waiting for him to bark whatever orders he has at them. He shoos them away with a wave of his hand before turning back to you. Well, alright, I guess. You make a bit of a face, unintentionally, causing Derek to glance at you.
"Don't worry about them, baby."
He drops your hand and looks toward a large bar-looking wall in the kitchen, affixing your attention to it as well.
"This," he gestures to that section, "is my drink bar. Coffee, teas, cocktails, mocktails. You name it, I got it."
You stand there, gaze fixed on the counter in awe. He doesn't give you a chance to say anything before speaking again.
"I can make you anything you want. Flat white, matcha latte, piña colada..." He trails off before looking back at you. "A black coffee with two sugars." He adds teasingly.
You give him a knowing smile before moving closer. He lets you walk around it, observing its many details for a few minutes. A Jura double brew machine? A Simonelli espresso maker? Not to mention, a million different kinds of liquor and juices. How could someone even fathom owning this much stuff?
He looks you up and down without your knowledge, taking his time ogling at your curves. Both of you are in awe of different things. When you take a moment to lean on the counter, Derek makes a bold move of coming up behind you, pressing you against the edge with his hands on your hips. You gasp and try to look back at him, almost unsuccessfully because of the angle. He rubs his hands along your clothes waist.
Bringing his lips close to your ear, he purrs, "I think we all know why you're really here though, sugar."
You knew this was going to happen, he wasn't subtle about it even in the office. But it still took you by surprise, how quickly he got into it. You can feel him start to press kisses to the back of your neck, recapturing your attention. Derek begins lifting the slightly frayed edge of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin on his slightly cold hands. He leaves a few pecks behind your ear before speaking.
"This alright?" He asks, giving you a tender squeeze.
You nod your head, reveling in the feeling of his touch, which is visibly overwhelming your senses.
He makes a noise of disapproval. "Need to hear words, sugar, or we're not doing this."
"Y-yes. Please." You almost can't believe how eager you were already. You can only hope that having sex with your boss doesn't have that terrible of repercussions.
He hums in approval now. "There they are." He comments, almost to himself.
He lifts your top up higher, ghosting his fingers over your skin, his touch warmer now. You shiver for the second time that night. You allow him to pull your top over your head and toss it somewhere on the floor before you turn around. His hands slide further up your waist, getting closer to your chest as he looks up at you for permission.
"Wait." You pause as he looks at you with concern. "What if someone comes in?" You whisper and Derek chuckles.
"Trust me, no one will come in. I made sure of that."
You hesitantly let out a breathless, "Yeah, okay," before he brings his hand up, toying with both of your nipples. You release some soft noises as he lightly twists and runs his thumbs over your now stiff peaks. He brings his mouth down to one of them and moves his tongue, circling it. He gently bites down while pulling on the other and looks up at you.
You look back down at him as he starts kissing up your chest, making his way up to your neck where he leaves little love bites. He sucks on your skin in between soft bites, making his way up and down your chest, marking you as his. He makes his way back up, leaving kisses on your jaw before finally making his way to your lips, pausing briefly. You nod, his lips already practically pressed against yours, your breaths mingling.
He goes in for the kill, pressing his lips on yours fully. Your lips molded together feel like heaven, smacking against one another in the wettest, messiest way possible. His hands go from messing with your chest to groping your waist. To pushing on your hips. To fondling that fat of your thighs. Your hands weren't doing much different, one hand gripping and rubbing his shoulder. The other was tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging lightly, causing him to let out some groans into your mouth.
He pulls away enough to talk with his lips still pressed to yours. "You're driving me insane..." He breathes into you.
He bites your bottom lip to open your mouth up to his, shoving his tongue in unceremoniously. You're letting out soft noises of pleasure in his mouth, enjoying what little he's giving you, but you need more. You give his shoulder a squeeze, breaking away from one another after a few moments with a string of spit connecting you both. He maintains eye contact as he lowers his body, dropping to his knees in front of you, and running his hands along you as he goes. It feels almost surreal, to see the CEO of the company you work at submit to you, wanting to please you.
He begins to pull down your bottoms, still maintaining eye contact, taking your undergarments with them. You let him pull them down, stepping out of your shoes before kicking them away. He leaves a mix of sloppy kisses and harsher bites on your shins, calves, and thighs as he makes his way closer to your throbbing arousal. You wince every time he leaves a bite, but it feels undeniably so good.
The tension in the room was so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Derek looks up at you one last time before finally putting his mouth on you, causing you to let out a loud moan before you slap your hand over your mouth. He circles his tongue while he pinches your thigh, signaling that he wants you to uncover your mouth, which you do reluctantly. He alternates between sucking and licking before moving down to your entrance, wetting it in preparation.
He brings your leg up on his shoulder as he focuses on your hole, every once in a while sticking his tongue in, stretching you out just enough to keep you on the edge. Your core tightens as tears line your eyes and you bring a hand down to tangle in his bleached, curly hair again; the other gripping the counter for dear life. The air is filled with the wet sounds of Derek stroking your flesh with his tongue and your nearly pornographic-sounding moans. There's no way his staff can't hear you two right now. A rush of embarrassment runs through you before you realize that he probably does this enough to where they're used to it.
Before you can let that thought spiral, you feel Derek groan in you before slowly removing your leg from his shoulder and rising back up to your level. Wordlessly, he brings a hand up to your face, almost tenderly ghosting his thumb over your chin. Before you can lean in for another kiss, he holds his middle and ring finger up to your lips. Knowing immediately what he wants, you take his fingers in your mouth. Derek bites back a groan as you seductively swirl your tongue around his fingers, lubing them up for what you're sure he's going to do.
"Good slut..." He says offhandedly, almost moaning it before pulling them out of your mouth with a wet-sounding pop.
He makes his way back down your body, still keeping eye contact as he puts your leg back over his shoulder. He brings his fingers to your entrance and delicately circles it, teasing you. Just as he pouts his mouth back on you, he slowly inserts his fingers, stretching you open slightly. As his fingers and mouth bring you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure, you focus on chasing it as his fingers scissor you open.
"Fuck...oh, Derek. God..."
Your stomach tightens again and your legs threaten to give out as you let out the loudest noises you think you've ever made. Derek can feel your hole fluttering around his fingers, which makes him groan into your flesh again. Before you can even think of reaching your peak, Derek pulls out his fingers and makes his way back up to you, getting face-to-face.
"How ya doin', pretty thing?" Derek inquires playfully, going back to toying with your nipples.
You take a moment to catch your breath, only egging Derek on even more.
"What's that? Cat got your tongue?" Cheeky bastard...
"You're good at that." You finally whisper, not able to say much.
He laughs a bit.
"I can think of a few other things I'm good at." He pinches one of your nipples.
"'M gonna fuck you so good you won't wanna sit down for long at the office tomorrow. Then I'll fuck you some more. How about that?"
"Please." You breathe out desperately.
He leans in to kiss you once more, even messier this time, teeth practically clashing from the eagerness on both of your parts. Feeling bolder, you bring your hand gripping the counter down to Derek's waistband, gently running your fingers across it, asking for permission. He smiles into the kiss and pulls away, only slightly.
"Go ahead, sugar, I'm all yours."
This gives you the confidence to reach into his pants and grasp at his dick, still concealed by his boxers. As you grope him, you realize just how underdressed you are in comparison and look up at him. He looks back at you, biting his lip to conceal his noises as you bring your hands to remove his jacket, dropping it to the ground. Then you bring your hands down to unbutton his shirt, going at a faster pace. He tears off his button-up and you run your hands over his now-exposed chest after throwing it somewhere in the kitchen.
You slowly get down on your knees as you pull down his pants and he rests his hand on your head. You look up at him as you pull down his boxers, his length slapping up to his stomach causing him to hiss. You start to tentatively run your fingertip up the side of his member, tracing a prominent vein; you didn't want to tease him for too long, though. Both of you were too excited for that. You grip him softly and run your tongue along his tip, smearing his precum around before finally wrapping your lips around the first few inches. Derek is having trouble stifling his noises now, as he has been letting out whimpers with every little touch you provide him. You rest one of your hands on his tensed stomach now, almost comfortingly, and your other hand is wrapped around the base of his shaft as you take most of him in your mouth.
"Your mouth feels so fuckin' perfect..." He trails off, nearly mumbling.
Looking up at his minuscule expressions, you start bobbing your head at a slow pace, using your hand on what you can’t fit in your mouth. Derek grips the back of your head harder, now freely letting out moans of pleasure as he moves your head to go faster. You pull off briefly to let a glob of spit drip down onto him, spreading it along the length with your hand before putting him back in your mouth. You can start to feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag lightly, even more drool dripping down the corners of your mouth. He looks down at you, bliss written all over his face, eyes drooping as he tries to look at the mess you’ve become underneath him. He begins thrusting into your mouth, gently at first, getting a feel for your mouth and your tolerance before he starts thrusting a bit harder, gripping your scalp.
“God, you look so fucking good choking on my cock.”
Before you can process it, he pulls you off of him, nearly yanking you up by your shoulders and stepping out of his black pants, kicking them off somewhere on the floor along with his shoes. He turns you around and bends you over the bar as he presses kisses to your lower back.
“You get off on this, baby? Sleeping with your boss?” He taunts. “You get off on fucking the CEO of the company you work at?” He mirrors his words from earlier that day as he runs his hands along your sides.
All you can let out is a meek moan as he laughs.
“Too fucked out already to talk?” He asks and moves his hand down to repeat the pinch of the skin on your thigh playfully.
You can feel him leave for a moment so you briefly turn around. You see him rifling through his pants pocket before finding what he wanted: a bottle of lube. This asshole… You raise an eyebrow at him as he smirks.
“Can never be too prepared, right, sugar?” He teases.
“So, you can have lube at the ready but not a condom?” You ask, jokingly, gaining your voice back.
He looks back at you, giving you a goofy smile. “Feels better without one, baby. You know that.”
You roll your eyes as he pours a more-than-generous amount on his middle fingers before moving them back to your entrance. He presses his free hand on your lower back to bend you further over the counter as he circles your hole. You whimper out of desperation and push yourself back, wanting more. He presses harder on your back to keep you still as he finally inserts his fingers, gently loosening you up and providing the stimulation you need. You can feel the excess lube dripping down your legs, making a mess on the kitchen floor. After a few blissful moments, he slowly pulls his fingers out, watching the way you clench around nothing as his fingers fully leave your body.
“Fuck, look at you, baby.” He slurs as he presses your face into the surface with his clean, dry hand.
Finally, he lines himself up with your lubed-up entrance. He doesn’t take the time to tease you before he slowly begins to ease himself in, inch by inch. The stretch almost burns as he slowly bottoms out. After a few moments, his hips are connected with yours and he stills for a minute, causing the burning feeling to only grow slightly.
Derek groans. “Jesus, fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbled, starting to ramble.
“So fucking good,” he repeats, starting to move inside of you, only a little bit at first; quite gentle as he was getting a feel for you. One of his hands was holding your hip, pushing it against the edge of the countertop, causing it to dig into your hip bone almost painfully. The other was still pressing your face on top of the surface roughly. The roughness didn’t stop there, as Derek began to thrust harder and with longer strokes, moving even faster after a few minutes.
The only sounds that could be heard in the kitchen were your meek whimpers, Derek’s groans, and the lewd slaps of wet skin on skin. You began to move your own body with his as much as you could under his grip, and he let you. Both of you move in unison, sounds of absolute sin filling the air making the scene an unruly picture for anyone who might walk in. Your eyes start to roll to the back of your head as you muttered nonsensical strings of curses along with some sobs and wails.
Derek runs the hand that was previously on your hip along your back, smearing it with lube as you are now fully moving with him. “You’re driving me insane. You look so fucking good like this. Bent over my bar, stuffed full of my cock, in my fucking mansion.”
“You’re mine.” He growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.
The mix of lube, spit, and precum you could feel building up inside of you, slicking each little movement, was an intoxicating feeling for the both of you. Derek was letting out little whimpers now as your moans got louder.
“Been thinkin’ about this all day.” He mutters out, his pace growing even faster. “God, you’re such a whore. Fucking your boss like this. Bet you do this everywhere you’ve worked.”
His thrusts start to falter, the harshness rising in intensity as you ground your ass against him harder. Derek pulled you away from the counter roughly and reached around you, stroking your heat. You started grasping at nothing, your fingers curling on the cold marble surface as your back arched. Without warning, Derek hit a spot inside you that had you yelling, your screams and chants of his name being heard as you finally came. Both of you could feel your hole clenching hard around Derek’s length as he fucked you through your orgasm.
“You’re gonna make me cum, baby.” Derek slurred as his body stuttered.
Your release covered Derek’s hand as his hips stilled, pumping hot ropes of cum inside of you. He only moved a little bit as he hits his peak, just to feel his own cum being pushed deeper into you. You both stay still after a few moments, catching your breath and coming down from your simultaneous orgasms. Derek stayed inside of you for longer than you expected, causing you to finally look back at him, eyebrows raised. He smirks back at you, rubbing his hands soothingly along your waist again.
“What? I like being inside you.” He slaps your ass playfully as he pulls out, both of you moaning at the loss as his release and lube run down your legs and drip onto the tiles below.
You turn around to face him for the first time in a while and look at one another. Derek brings his hand up to your chin for the second time that night, tenderly running his thumb along your lips as you maintain eye contact. He glanced at your lips before pressing them together, the softest he’d done all night, contrasting almost every move he’d made since you arrived at his place. Despite being taken by surprise at his softness, you kiss back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck as his other hand grips your hip. He pulls away and looks at you, an indescribable look in his eyes before smiling. He pulls away and walks over to the Jura machine, just beside you, and starts the coffee maker with the press of a button. He grabs two coffee mugs from the cupboard above you and places them down before glancing at you.
“Look like you need something to wake you up.” He turns to smirk at you for the millionth time that night, and definitely not the last time.
“Two sugars?” He inquires, holding up two fingers.
You smile back, turning your body towards him to the best of your ability, your legs shaking. “Two sugars.”
I have a little one-shot for this AU (?) planned, so keep an eye out because I'm pretty excited about it!
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.
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‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @BooNam
‧₊˚ ily!!
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
How Jhutch characters would behave on a road trip:
Mike Schmidt
- Would drive through the night while everyone else slept; his sleep schedule is fucked anyway
- Insists on keeping the ac low/off to save gas. "Just roll the windows down" while going 80 mph on the highway
- Severe road rage. "WHY ARE YOU GOING 60 IN A 65??"
Josh Futturman
- Low-key scared of driving on the highway; probably wouldn't drive at all, honestly.
- Passenger princess. (Complete with a full pillow and blanket)
- He'd meticulously pack snacks and drinks though
Derek Danforth
- Doesn't understand the appeal of driving places; his private jet is so much faster.
- Would either pay someone else to drive, OR drive himself but keep dropping not-so-subtle hints that he's "never had head while driving" and "wonders what that's like"
- Fucking hotboxes the car with either weed or vape. Annoying as fuck.
Clapton Davis
- Rides shotgun; probably doesn't have a license
- Crafted a playlist just for the trip, DJs the whole way there
- Extremely distracting though, puts a hand on your thigh while you drive.
Billy
- Doesn't let anyone else drive. His car is one of his few possessions and he treasures it, even if it's kinda a shitbox.
- "I'm not tired!!" (After nearly falling asleep at the wheel 6 times.)
- Sings along to the radio as he drives even though he's really bad at it.
Can I get a Derek Danforth x shorter Male Reader where reader is like the only person Derek cares about. Reader is very cuddly but Derek isn’t big on PDA but when they are alone Derek loves holding the reader in his arms.
If not it’s ok!
OFC YOU CAN!!!
I had like fifteen different drafts for how this story could go and I couldn't make up my mind until literally last night, thus why it took so long. I hope this is okay!!!
Tangled
Derek Danforth x Male! Reader
Summery: The holidays are a miserable time of year, especially when ones mother won't even talk to them to let them know she's not coming, sending Derek into a breakdown and wrapping you up in the process.
Tags: No use of Y/N, short! Reader, hurt/comfort, mommy issues, drug use (marijuana), arguing, breakdown, banter, comedy, injury, eventual fluff, holiday fic. (I don't give a fuck that it's Febuary, shut it.)
Notes: honestly I was HYPED when I saw this request. I fucken GOT YOU babe and I am so sorry it took this long. I hope this was worth the wait <3
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I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to be honest; who likes the holidays?
The decorations are nice. The food's better. But in the matter of family and visitation, could anyone honestly say they liked the whole routine? Picking who to see, booking flights, trying not to lose yourself in a bottle of liquor that you bought on the way to their house.
Maybe not every detail is the same, but you get the general idea.
"Please sit down," I begged Derek, watching him pace the floor. All week Derek had been in a mood, which isn't totally uncommon I will admit. But usually he could be coaxed out of it, sweet words whispered in his ear finally bringing him off whatever edge he was ready to fling off of and convince him death was for another day. This week however was different, Derek always tapping his foot, glaring at something. And pacing. Neverending, always thinking, lasts through the night pacing. I was beginning to feel sick from the anxiety, and my mood was making Derek even shorter in his.
"I'm fine," he snapped.
"You're clearly not," I said. In his hand he gripped his pen, clicking it to life with five rapid clicks before taking a long pull like he couldn't breathe without it. "Derek."
"I said I'm fucking fine."
"I have never seen you as more of a mess, will you please just sit down for one moment?" I pleaded, shifting closer to the edge of the plush loveseat kept in front of our bed. "I'm worried about you."
He wants to snap. His jaw is tight, teeth gritted as he spins on the heel of his black, pointed boot, mouth opening as he begins to point one finger at me. But the minute he actually makes eye contact the edge drains, his shoulders sagging slightly as he exhales his smoke, bags appearing under his eyes. Derek had a reputation for being a hard-ass, but when we were alone and I grabbed his attention, his demeanor would shift into one more gentle, more honest. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he finally crossed over to me, sitting beside me and wrapping his arms around my waist.
"I'm fine," he said quietly, tucking my head under his chin. His hand strokes up and down my back, his heart still pounding but beginning to calm as the smoke begins to work into his bloodstream, allowing him to focus on me more than his thoughts. His cologne compliments mine, smelling mostly of cinnamon to match the winter season. The silk material of his red shirt is soothing against my skin, little silver snowflakes decorating it. Always a pattern with him.
"Is it your mother?" I asked quietly. He stiffened, his heart rate picking back up against my ear.
"I don't want to talk about this," he said quickly, beginning to pull away. I gently grab his arms, making him look down at me before he can close off once more.
"We've been together for almost a year and you won't say anything about your-"
"I said I don't want to talk about this."
"We have to talk about this at some point or you're going to have a giant fit and I won't be able to help you."
It isn't meant as an insult, but I hear it as soon as the words come out. Derek's eyes narrow into slits, bitterness seeping through.
"Fuck you. I don't throw fucking fits." He pulled away quickly, the battery of his pen glowing as he took another hit, long and deep, blinking rapidly to show he's hit his limit.
"You are on the cusp of one right now. You're in denial," I said concerningly.
This time he really is about to snap when someone knocks on the door, popping her head in to announce dinner will be ready shortly.
"Is she on her way?" Derek asked the redheaded assistant, blowing his smoke out through his nose, hands on his cocked hips. The woman presses her lips together tightly, glancing between the two of us before speaking.
"I haven't heard anything from President Danforth for a few hours, sir," she finally said. Derek sighed deeply, looking down and pinching the bridge of his straight nose as he taps his foot at impressive speed.
"Thank you," he said quickly, not meeting anyone's eyes. She takes the opportunity, quickly nodding at me and ducking out of the room with the quick click of the door, leaving us alone again.
I simply stare at him, hands folded on top of my lap as I wait for him to say something, do something. When he goes to take a third blinker, I finally stand.
"Don't you fuckin' dare," Derek warns me, holding out his palm.
"You are going to get stoned to the point that you'll fuck up this dinner the you have been worried over for the past week. What the fuck is wrong with you?" I hiss, stepping closer.
"There's no fuckin' point, she's not coming," he said, shrugging harshly and scoffing.
"And that bothers you. Will you just admit that?" I said. I step closer, close enough to reach for the pen, but I wait, letting him narrow his glazing eyes at me first.
"What is your obsession? You want me to break down? Cry? You wanna fix me, huh?" His tone is harsh, paranoia settling in as he takes a step towards me. "Whatever savior shit this is, I'm not taking."
I snatch the pen quickly from his grasp, only to have his hand grab my wrist without any real thought. Derek towers over me, gripping me tightly enough it hurts.
"Drop it," he growled.
"No," I growled back.
"I'm not asking."
"Tough shit."
"What is your-"
"Derek." The snap does something, my voice bouncing around in his ears as he glares at me, but releases my wrist nonetheless. I step away quickly, tucking the pen into the inside pocket of my evergreen blazer. "You'll get this back tonight," I tell him, not looking back. Derek mutters under his breath, brushing past me to exit the suite. Fine. Let him hate me. See if I care.
Derek never liked public affection in the first place. Growing up in a house with a politician for a mother he was hyperaware of all the right and wrongs to a public reputation. I think he also just had no desire to be seen as any kind of vulnerable in a crowd. But tonight it's different. Tonight there is a tinge of hate with the distance he creates, and my side feels cold without him. With each step forward he takes five back. People filter in and out of each room, some I'm sure just here with a friend of a friend for the free food. But if there's anyone I never see through the passing hours, it's Derek's mother. I can see him checking his phone every five, three, then every other minute.
It was a touchy subject. Derek loved his mother, adored the ground she walked on. And when she would visit him or welcome us over to wherever it was she was staying it was obvious she loved him too, allowing him to get away with things most mothers wouldn't. But her head was always in work, her eyes always scanning a document with a pen in her hand to sign off on anything at any given moment. There were times we'd spend the visit gathered in silence lest she retreat to an actual study, claiming she could not focus with our chatter. Derek loved his mother, but it was obvious he was neglected by her too.
He'd been planning the party meticulously. Ordering dozens of sample just for garland, asking my input on plates. Yes, Derek was known for throwing elaborate and wonderfully tasteful parties, but if he thought his mother would be in attendance he would go the extra mile, not sparing an inch of detail and making sure that it was so perfect she'd have no choice but to attend.
Problem is, Madame President has many choices for her perfect Christmas party.
It isn't until the clock strikes ten and security begins to push people out that he finally locks eyes with me, the hate draining and giving way to the exhaustion underneath. He disappears through a doorway, and I follow after him, watching his snow white suit that matches my shirt perfectly work its way quickly through the endless halls as I chase him down the rabbit hole. Oh yes, don't think I escaped his scrutiny just because I'm a living being. I didn't even know we'd have complimenting outfits until I stepped out of the shower that morning while he worked on a cigarette, waving it around between his fingers on one hand with the hangers in the other and a phone pressed between his shoulder as he shouted something in Spanish at the poor assistant on the other line.
He doesn't bother shutting the bedroom door behind him whether he knows I'm following him or not. But when I gently push the door shut behind me, finally turning away from him, I feel his warm body press against mine from behind. His arms wrap around me, one around my waist and the other around my shoulders, alcohol thick on his breath as he buries his head into the crook of my neck. His hand finds my hair, burying his long fingers in it as he takes a deep inhale of the pine scented cologne dabbled on my neck. His body is heavy against mine, swaying slightly from exhaustion.
"Hi," he says softly.
"Hi," I say just as soft, reaching up to find his curls. I smile slightly at the feeling of his fried ends, tainted from overprocessing. "You wanna talk?"
"No," he maintained. But his voice cracks, and the collar my shirt is starting to feel wet. Not to mention his arms are shaking.
"You wanna not talk on the bed?" I ask him.
"I'm fine right here," he says in a broken voice. But when he softly sniffles and takes a tiny gasp for air, he's finally done in and dragging me towards the oversized bed, not bothering to actually open the canopy as he flops himself down onto the lush, green and gold duvet.
"It's fine, I'm fine," he insists even though he's dragged half of a gold chiffon curtain down and around him and he's too high to figure out how to get it off. "She has meetings, this happens."
"Yeah, well. It happens a little too often," I say gently, trying to help him before he gets this thing wrapped around his neck. In his vulnerable and understandable fit he's making this curtain situation much worse, actively reweaving whatever I untangle from him in his blind confusion.
"I mean, I get it. Running the country, having a conversation with your own son, it's fine," Derek hiccuped as he gestures his hands like scales weighing the options, one drastically higher than the other. His face is as red as his shirt, large tears streaming down his face as he paws uselessly at the fabric. He swipes frantically at them, clearly becoming frustrated at being unable to control his raw emotions. "I mean, priorities shift so what the fuck am I complaining about?"
"Honey, I think you're sitting on it."
"What?"
"The curtain."
Derek moans inconsolably as he throws himself against the bed, taking down the rest of the gold chiffon and covering us both in the material.
"What does it matter?" Derek cries pathetically. "I could hang myself with this and she'd have a fucking meeting in Germany!"
"Your mother would come to your funeral," I say softly, stroking his hair as I press my lips together, letting him heave out his sobs. He brings a bundle of the fabric to his face, bunching it up and sobbing into it before raising his head once more for another comment.
"Probably have a flood in Uganda day of. I'd fuck up my own suicide day," he snaps to no one in particular.
"No you wouldn't," I say, continuing to run my hand through his hair. Derek sinks into the golden bundle once more, curling in on himself like a child. Then suddenly his eyes grow cold again.
"And the fucking appetizers were cold!"
The comment is so out of left field that a short laugh escapes me, my hand immediately covering my mouth. I instantly feel awful, looking away as I try to compose myself from the dramatic change in complaint.
"Don't laugh at me," Derek snaps. "I paid good money for those."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry, that was just a bit random. Would you like to get off of the curtains you also paid for?" I ask him softly, fighting the fit of giggles his hateful eyes inspire to continue. I try to wrap my arms around him in comfort but he moves away in irritation. Or tries. This curtain is keeping us pretty close, which only adds to the whole thing.
"No," he says as he finally gives up. He crosses his arms in irritation and huffs, but after a long moment and a glance at my bemused face he moves to get the curtain off of his own. "Yes. Get this off of me!"
"Okay, I'm coming."
"Where the fuck is the end?"
"I told you, I think you're sitting on it."
"Your mother is sitting on it!"
"Let's not bring anymore mothers into this-"
We struggle in the cocoon of chiffon, twisting and turning in the same and opposite directions, both of us bickering over who has what and who's preventing our freedom.
"This shouldn't be fucking hard!"
"Quit moving, you're making it worse."
"Fuck you!"
"Fuck you!"
"Hang on, I think I-"
With a forceful tug I pull the end out from underneath of Derek. Unfortunately, Derek had shifted himself to move off of the end at the same time, leaving me to fling off the side of the tall bed and hit the lush rug underneath that hardly cushions the oak floor with a loud 'thud' that makes the artifical blond gasp.
"Fuck! Are you okay-?"
Derek scrambles to the edge to look down at me, but he's too high to realize he's overshot his position and sends his larger body crashing on top of mine, making me cry out as I break his fall.
"Eat a salad," I groan, curling in on myself as I try to catch my breath.
"I did, that's why I'm the tall one." Derek and I are once again tangled in the curtain, laying on the floor in a pile of limbs and half of Derek's face is burned from the rug. "Are you okay?" He asks worriedly, looking over my body for obvious injury.
"Have roses at my funeral," I cough, clutching my stomach.
"Rose's are cliché."
"Rose's are fucking iconic."
"If you have basic taste, then yes."
"I don't mix snake and cheeta."
"It's French."
"Then get fucking cheeta print rose's."
"Don't be hysterical."
I shoot him a look and finally he manages a laugh, wiping at his nose with the cuff of his blazer and smiling.
"Maybe I'm a little hysterical," he offers.
"I think I have a concussion."
"Oh, you don't have a concussion," Derek says dismissively. He cups my cheeks gently, his soft hands forcing my eyelids open wide as he checks my eyes. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, you have a concussion."
I laugh, pulling him close and keeping my eyes closed to keep from getting sick.
"Mister 'I Don't Throw Fits,'" I tease.
"I can just not take you to the hospital."
"Bitch."
"Cunt."
"Dickhead."
"Fuckface."
"Fashionably handicapped."
"Poor."
Derek finally figures out how to free us from our prison, pulling away the fabric and looking down at me from above with a gentle smile on his tear stained face. "You've got good bone structure, though," he says.
"It's my daddy's," I tell him.
"I don't remember buying you that."
I smack Derek's chest playfully, groaning as I try (and fail) to sit up. "You're awful."
"You love me," Derek says softly, sitting beside me. The statement is true and meant as a playful reminder, but it's the way his bloodshot eyes still glisten with leftover moisture that makes me cup his face. Or try. I can't see.
"I love you," I say softly.
"That's my chest."
My hand moves.
"Knee."
My hand moves again.
"That's my dick."
"Jolly good friend," I say with a squeeze and overexaggerated British accent. This knocks the last bit of sorrow out of Derek, making him laugh loudly as he finally lays down beside me. He wraps his arms around my smaller frame, pulling me close to him as he presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
"I'm sorry,' he says softly.
"We really do need to talk about your mother at some point," I tell him, stroking his arm that lays across my chest.
"I know." Derek's voice is soft, his fingers playing with one of the buttons on my blazer.
The silence is sweet, the sound of Derek and I's breathing the only sound in the room. And the slight ringing in my head.
"I think you need to call someone," I tell him.
"My problems aren't that bad," Derek says in a hurt voice, moving to look down at me.
"For me."
"Oh!"
▪︎《•☆•》▪︎
I'm going to be so fr, I haven't watched 'The Beekeeper' since it was in theaters so if the mommy issues are inaccurate that's on me. But y'know what it works better for his character so it's °~*accurate to meee*~°
Taglist:
@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3
✭ 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.
.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.
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.
had to draw genderbent derek danforth when i saw the idea from @welcome-to-hell-ya-gucks who posted the outfit and @laurrrelise who came up with the name!!!
