Derek x fem!Reader blurb - NSFW and not long at all, TW: Derek drugged you!
I’ll eventually write him a lovely oneshot, but here’s this for now ^^
MINORS DNI!!!!
“Stop that.” The words were rough, rumbling right beside your ear. It was difficult to process them, difficult to focus on anything other than the cock pumping in and out of your abused cunt.
The cold metal of the car, and the breeze against the night air, made your skin prick. If you concentrated, you could see your erratic huffs escape your lips in the form of tiny, white clouds. You didn’t feel cold. Derek kept you warm, the heat of his body pressing down against you while you were bent over the hood of his car.
You didn’t know how this had happened. You were just supposed to be riding back to his apartment. Your memory grew hazy, thinking back to the water her offered you when you climbed in. It had tasted stale, flat, but you didn’t want to be seen as a rude guest. The memories grew even more murky as you recall downing the bottle.
“Stop that.” There were those words again. Your eyes focused and unfocused, feeling his hips start thrusting against you harder. It made your stomach feel weird, a few sparks of uncomfortable pleasure starting to catch fire. It was too much. All of it. Too much. A strangled noise was wrenched out of your throat, and your fingers continue to curl against the metal hood. In your drug addled mind, you didn’t even realize you had been scratching at it. You could hear a huff of irritation as your nails scraped against the paint job. “Fuck- stop that!”
A cry left you, both of his hands grabbing onto yours, pressing them flat against the car. Your forehead dropped against the surface, breath fogging the sheen as he continued to use your pliant body.
“You couldn’t afford to get this repainted,” Derek huffed. He didn’t sound particularly angry despite the words. His grip tightened on you, rough pace turning brutal. “Say it. Admit it. Tell me you couldn’t.”
What? You want to ask what he was on about, but he doesn’t give you a chance. His hips all but beat your own against his car. There will surely be bruises on your thighs tomorrow. Another half moan, half wail left you. “Fucking say it, tell me you need me. You can’t live without me, right? You couldn’t afford it.”
