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arieswritez · 6 months

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Prodigal Son

prodigal son - derek goffard x afab!reader

cw: MDNI!!!! implied & actual noncon, threats of violence & actual violence, knifeplay, unprotected sex, creampie, weird old men, abuse of power, slight sacrilege (if you squint idk i have religious trauma), derek

about: one of my derek hcs (and i have plenty ‘cause my brain is too fried to write actual fanfic) is that not only is he well known but he is actually very well liked. (~2.3k words)

a/n: this has been sitting in my private posts for the longest & it keeps getting buried under other posts so here it is before it disappears into the abyss <3 is there a second part? maybe. will it take me forever to post it? yes. xx barely read through so if there's some grammatical errors im srry ;( will be editing if needed

the public views the goffards as royal adjacent: his face plastered on nearly every magazine, listing him as the country’s most eligible bachelor. you read about the goffard brothers and their lives of luxury, private schools, boats, villas in italy, and rumoured engagements with duchesses. you remember gushing over them with your friends. . and while they seemed to like matt goffard better, your attention was on derek. getting your hands on every magazine with his face on it and following any blog dedicated to him.

however, despite how much his image sells, not much is known about derek other than the fact that he’s next in line to take over the goffard business. derek is known for many things but his personality is not one of them.

media training may have prepared him to smile and smolder into a camera but those who really know him know that his personality is just. . off-putting. a smile that doesn’t meet the eyes, not talking or even making eye contact with anyone he considers to be “the help”.

his father has done a good job at using derek’s good looks to his advantage. he’s spent a pretty penny cleaning up his messes and his PR team has been working with derek ever since he started to become an absolute terror (around age 13).

and so, with a lot of training, derek learns how to subdue it: suppressing a sneer of disgust when someone attempts to engage him in conversation. he still finds it hard not to lash out when someone so much as brushes their shoulders against him, when he catches a whiff of the cheap cologne and/or perfume clinging to their clothing.

and when the dam eventually cracks: it's ridiculously easy to patch up. because behind that carefully curated image is a long string of accusations of harassment, hush money, NDA’s and lawsuits that’ll never see the light of day thanks to daddy dearest. derek's victims have either been intimidated into silence by the business mogul or simply disappeared off the face of the earth.

derek's father has worked his ass off and he'd be damned if some nobodies ruin the mirage he's created.

from the outside looking in, the goffards - particularly the brothers - are just your average nepo babies. everyone fantasizes about being them. or winning the lottery and marrying into wealth.

it’s only when you meet derek that you realize the goffard empire is more of a jungle than it is a monarchy.

it’s a busy night at the upscale restaurant you work in. and everyone tells you: "you’re lucky you’ve got this gig."

on most days, that’s hard to believe: rich snobs that treat you like you’re shit smeared beneath their shoe and don’t tip well. but that night, with the staff urgently trying to get around, you figure they may be right. . because you get derek’s table.

lucky you <3

derek is with his father, a couple business partners, and two rugged men with shifting eyes who you assume are their bodyguards. he looked like a dream in person. his usually tousled blond hair slicked back, dressed all in black. his dress shirt slightly unbuttoned: his trademark 'disheveled' look you're sure was actually carefully styled. and against his chest, you notice a plain gold chain that was undoubtedly worth more than your yearly salary.

if you thought he looked good in pictures, he looked godly in person.

you do your best to contain your excitement, trying to make a good impression when you introduce yourself. the pitch in your voice heightening - as it always does while on the clock - and you gave your best smile. his father and the other business men seem to be more. . welcoming. or at least in that awkward way old rich white men have of being patronizing and flirting with you at the same time. you couldn’t keep track of the amount of times they’ve called you ‘sweetheart’ , ‘babe’, or ‘doll’.

derek, however, hardly looks at you. he just orders from the menu, giving you short and cutting answers when you inquire about anything, then tossing the menu in your general direction - you hadn’t finished talking - without as much as glancing at you. the menu nearly slides off the table and you feel your face heat up in embarrassment when you fumble to catch it.

and despite how you think he hardly notices you. . he does. from the corner of his eye, he watches your disheartened figure walk away, and the corner of his mouth perks up.

he’s extremely demanding the entire night you serve him. everything you do is wrong in his eyes. the food was cold. too much salt. not enough salt.

i found your hair in the food, i’m not eating that.

you forgot the asparagus i ordered.

the steak isn't medium, it's cooked to shit.

can you do anything right?

your brain feels like mush and the cooks are tearing you to shreds in the kitchen because they can’t get to derek themselves.

eventually, derek’s father must catch on to derek's sour attitude and asks for the check. you curse yourself. it's been a long, ego destroying night & now you’re 100% sure you’re not getting a tip.

you just bow your head and apologize for the umpteenth over your ‘subpar service’ and pick up the table’s plates.

and as you hold back tears, you don’t notice how derek’s is missing his steak knife.

after being glared at by half the kitchen staff - it’ll be a miracle if you still have your job come morning - you scurry into the bathroom to have a good cry.

unfortunately, derek’s been watching you like a hawk. you are quite predictable. or maybe he’s just done this to many women before you.

derek excuses himself from the table and follows you. you hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. you weren’t special. there was nothing unique about you. and for his standards - considering he constantly had a supermodel on his dick - you were just. . plain as hell.

you just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. which was unfortunate for you, of course, seeing as how derek figured someone the likes of you couldn’t exactly afford days off.

and it’s exactly that that caused you to be pinned face first against one of the stalls, the steak knife pressed against your throat, your work skirt flipped over your hips, your stockings and panties torn, and his cock inside you.

when he first attacked you, it happened so fast you didn’t catch a glimpse of who it was.

you were washing your face, not caring if you were removing your makeup in the process: what difference did it make, anyway?

you looked up into the mirror, expecting to see bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. . only to have your head bounced off of the glass.

your ears rang.

you stumbled.

and a hand wrapped around your arm and threw you up against one of the empty stalls.

someone flattened themselves up against you, a hardness pressing against your back.

you recognized his voice first, when he hissed into your ear,

“scream and i’ll slit your fucking throat.”

then, by scent: his expensive cologne choking you as he caged you in and jackhammered into you.

despite his stone cold demeanor towards you the entire night, his mouth stayed latched onto your skin: biting down in an attempt to smother the needy whines and moans that crawled out of his throat. you barely breathed, choking on your cries, hoping the blade wouldn’t slip in his shaking grip.

you were no one.

just another poor little toy derek wanted to break but for some reason, you’d managed to get him all pent up. seeing you fumble around while he berated you . . and now seeing you try to stifle your cries of pain had his balls drawing up. his other hand groped your breast, the knife leaving your throat long enough for him to grab your face and make you look at him over your shoulder.

“beg me,” he hissed. “beg me to come inside you. c’mon. . don’t you want it to be over~?”

you sniffled, letting out a surprised cry of pain at a particularly hard thrust.

"pl-please -" you cried out, unable to get the words out between your sobbing. "please-"

"p-p-please~" he mimicked your whines in a high pitched, exaggerated way. "please what? please what, huh? fuck you harder? cut you? kill you? you want me to put you out of your fucking misery in a dirty bathroom stall?"

everything hurt, your neck was twisted at an awkward angle, your head throbbed, and the friction between your legs was unbearable. he was right, you did want it to be over.

you wanted to go home and wash his cologne out of your ruined work uniform. you wanted to hold your head underwater until the scent evaporated from within your nostrils.

or go back to the time in which you were offered this job and refuse it.

or just not show up that day.

you'd wanted to call out that night, lie about being sick and binge watch trashy television. you wanted to reach an epiphany & snap out of it, trash all the magazines with Derek's fucking face plastered all over them, and kiss your daydreams of prince charming goodbye.

but most of all, you wanted him to get it over with and finish .

so you settled with appeasing him. because he's the one with the power. the money. the fame.

and the one with a knife to your throat.

you didn't care what it might take: you just wanted him to finish. but you didn't say that. you couldn't. so, instead, you managed to whisper,

"please - cum inside me."

the blade nicked you and you swear you saw your life flash before your eyes. the sick fuck was gonna gut you before he finished, you were sure of it.

but the searing pain, the warmth of blood cascading down the valley of your chest, the bright white light promised to you by kind eyed priests and mentioned in the prayers fallen from your mother's lips - never came. instead, you felt the harsh pinch of teeth clamping down onto your shoulder, muffling a strangled shout.

derek flattened you against the stall, rutting up against you. hunched over you, he unlocked his jaw and burrowed his face at the juncture where neck meets shoulder, panting condensation into your skin as he fucked his release into you.

against better judgement, your toes curled into the ridiculous, shiny flats your manager forced you to wear. a spike of. . pleasure. . zapped up your spine as derek's cock incessantly pressed against a spot inside you, throbbing and spurting so much cum it leaked out and dripped down your thighs.

you squeezed around him and there was a soft, whimpering moan.

you weren't sure which one of you'd let it out. but the sound seemed to sober derek up. he straightened suddenly, pulling away from you.

vertigo overtook you. he didn’t catch you when your knees gave and you collapsed. you heard the jingle of a belt, a zipper going up, then, you saw him step out and over you to push the stall open.

he didn't look back at you as he went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and wet his hands, slicking his hair back once again. you caught his reflection in the mirror: a soft flush against tan skin, spreading across his face, down his neck, and to his chest where his expensive, crisp, black dress shirt had been slightly unbuttoned.

his eyes met yours in the mirror.

and you wish you could say you saw something in them. disgust. contempt. lust. but there was nothing. it was as if he'd just seen a stranger in passing. he'd barely registered your existence, looked at you like one might look at the crack of a sidewalk they always pass by on their way to work.

not at all.

and then he was gone.

and a part of you wondered if you'd just imagined it. if it was all just some fucked up dream. you could've convinced yourself, too, if it weren't for the fact that you could still feel him inside you.

you were still crying, you realized, when teardrops landed on your cracked phone screen when your shaking hands managed to grasp it.

you checked the time through blurry vision. you were almost off.

you crawled to your knees and tried to push yourself up to no avail. your vision swam. and before you could register what was happening, everything faded to black.

you were out when the bathroom door opened.

one of the rugged men that were once seated at mr.goffard's table looked down at your crumpled figure on the floor. the man didn't say anything and simply closed the door. a few moments later, the bathroom door opened again. this time, the other man joined the first. without an ounce of hesitation, one of the men gathered your unconscious body and walked out.

no one noticed.

or no one cared to watch you get hauled away and into the shiny, black limousine of the goffards. you imagined averted eyes and anxious sips of wine of fellow restaurant goers as the footsteps of the country's most powerful men passed them by. clicking cutlery and knowing looks passed between couples. what would no doubt be the gossip on their way home back to their massive, lifeless homes.

the wife would say, "poor thing," as the husband unzipped her dress. the husband would hum. and that'd be the end of it.

nothing would be done.

and whether you're ever seen again or not doesn't matter because you'll soon be forgotten. and no one's risking their lifelihood for someone as insignificant as you.

after all, no one's ever dared to say no to mr. goffard's prodigal son.

#derek goffard #derek goffard x reader #tpof derek #art and characters by gatobob #i've never worked in a restaurant can u tell #hes so groddy i wanna eat him #oh to have your idol be a disgusting degenerate #never meet your heroes #but they never said anything about fucking them #tpof #the price of flesh #art by gatobob #gatobob #derek tpof

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novinare · 3 months

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all of the nsfw this or that for greggo!

THIS OR THAT || @forrkeeps || accepting

"Wow, man... Ok, as long as this doesn't get back to HR! This is stuff I don't want Ecklie or Grissom reading! I'd have to throw myself off a bridge, or get someone to lock me in one of the morgue drawers, if they ever found this."

Submissive or Dominant? ㅤㅤㅤThey're both fun, but if I HAVE TO choose just one? It'd be that.

Whips or Chains? ㅤㅤㅤEver since that case where the girl had been suffocated and couldn't escape. I spent a week processing bondage stuff, and after that? No way am I playing with something I can't try to escape.

Handcuffs or Shibari? ㅤㅤㅤHandcuffs are a work thing, shibari is a sex and art thing. I haven't been rigged up since I left New York, but it was pretty awesome.

Pillow Princess or Power Bottom? ㅤㅤㅤPower bottom! What, you actually thought I could lie still? Even if I was enjoying myself?

Voyeur or Exhibitionist? ㅤㅤㅤExhibitionist, but they totally go hand in hand. It's not much fun showing off if there's nobody around who likes to watch!

Blindfolds or Spreader Bars? ㅤㅤㅤBlindfolds, I like a surprise!

Butt Plugs or Vibrators? ㅤㅤㅤAhh fuck... Both are good... But you can have a vibrating butt plug, so vibrator. Wins on versatility!

Edging or Multiple Rounds? ㅤㅤㅤThat's a hard one! (Literally, if you do it right!) When I was younger it was totally multiple rounds, but edging is something I can do all day... So probably edging. But I'm not saying no to either of them!

Knots or Ovipositor? ㅤㅤㅤKinky! But I'd pick knots. Eggs feel like I'd end up in the ER with something stuck.

Spanking or Scratching? ㅤㅤㅤHow am I supposed to choose between these?! It totally depends on who I'm with, cause scratching kinda works for a lot of people... But spanking is intense, and has to be with the right partner, and someone you trust yourself to be vulnerable with... ㅤㅤㅤSo, spanking, I guess. But I have way less experience with it!

Ball Gag or Muzzle? ㅤㅤㅤBall gags are easier to find, and pretty flexible. But you'd have to want to shut me up, first!

Strap on or Double Sided Dildo? ㅤㅤㅤStrap on. Double sided dildos take way too much coordination, and they don't feel as good. It's like party trick sex, not actually having a good time sex. Performative, yeah? It's not for me.

On on one or Group Sex? ㅤㅤㅤBeen there, got the tshirt. And it depends on the group, but usually? I'd way rather be able to focus on my partner, instead of a whole group of people. Quality over quantity!

Vanilla or Kinky? ㅤㅤㅤBoth are awesome, but why limit ourselves? There's so much fun stuff to try!

Lengthy Cocks or Girthy Cocks? ㅤㅤㅤI'm not picky! But there's something about a thick cock that pushes all the right buttons.

Small Boobs or Large Boobs? ㅤㅤㅤAgain, not picky! But big ones are so soft... And who doesn't like that? I might have had a thing for Jessica Rabbit for a while too... High school Greg had a weird search history.

Ass or Chests? ㅤㅤㅤAss, cause there's a wider variety of nice asses. But both are awesome.

Thighs or Arms? ㅤㅤㅤArms! Fuck, being held in a good, strong pair of arms? Not much better than that!

Hot Wax or Knifeplay? ㅤㅤㅤHas work messed with the way you see kinky stuff, too? Hot wax, so we don't end up in the ER. Or worse, being investigated by our own colleagues!

Loud or Quiet? ㅤㅤㅤLoud, for me and my partner! C'mon, have I ever been quiet about anything? Ever?

Biting or Sucking? ㅤㅤㅤSucking, cause more people are into it. But there's a whole lot of grey area there.

Collars or Piercings? ㅤㅤㅤPiercings! I don't have any anymore, I had to take them out during a hospital stay and they closed up.

Costumes or Lingerie? ㅤㅤㅤCostumes, they're more fun.

Monogamy or Polyamory? ㅤㅤㅤPolyamory is awesome in theory, but I don't have enough time to focus on one relationship, much less two. I'd end up letting people down, and that would suck.

Laughing and silliness during sex or Intensity and power struggle during sex? ㅤㅤㅤLaughter! If you can't laugh with your lover, what's the point?

Fucking a Virgin or Fucking someone with experience? ㅤㅤㅤVirgins are overrated, and guys collecting v-cards is super creepy.

Face to face or from behind? ㅤㅤㅤI like to see their face, and their reactions.

Phone sex or Sexting? ㅤㅤㅤCause getting a hot text at work is awesome.

Cumming inside or Cumming outside? ㅤㅤㅤIt's a weird kink thing, ok? But I kinda like it, even if is drippy.

Being filled or Bukkake? ㅤㅤㅤBukkake is waaaay too much mess. Plus, it totally implies multiple people.

Dirty Talk or Degradation? ㅤㅤㅤDirty talk is fun, degradation is... Not my thing. I know there's a lot of grey area there too, but I want to be with a partner that... Respects me, I guess. Loves me, even, a bit.

Role play or Porn on in the background? ㅤㅤㅤRoleplay is more interactive. If I want to watch porn, I'll do it on my own.

Public Edging or Filming in the Bedroom? ㅤㅤㅤPublic edging, but not too public! Involving non-consenting people is weird. But there's stuff in my sex life that doesn't need to be on film.

Condom or Bareback? ㅤㅤㅤIn a perfect world without stds? Bareback. But condoms are a totally necessary evil, unless you're both getting tested first.

Lube or Raw? ㅤㅤㅤFuck! Lube! Always lube, unless you want anal fissures and rub burn on your ass!

Video Call Masturbation or Sexy Selfies? ㅤㅤㅤNo shame on selfies, but being able to hear your partner getting off is way more satisfying.

Blood Play or Breath Play? ㅤㅤㅤIt's flashier, and feels safer. I'd rather have a few more scars than a million less brain cells.

Face fucking or Anal sex? ㅤㅤㅤIt's not for everyone, but I like it. I have more experience with face fucking, but the stuff you get up to in a club is more like that.

Leather or PVC? ㅤㅤㅤPVC, it's easier on my CSI salary.

Morning Sex or Evening Sex? ㅤㅤㅤCan I have both? And are we talking actual morning, or when I get off graveyard shifts? My day and night are so screwed up! Morning sex has a bigger chance of getting interrupted, but by evening I'm too tired. Probably evening-- at least if I have to finish myself off I can sleep after. And nobody wants their fun time interrupted by Ecklie phoning to tell them to come in early!

Clothes on or Clothes off? ㅤㅤㅤEnding on an easy one-- off!

#( under a tag cause it's loooong! )#. greg sanders #forrkeeps #( thank you for this! )#( it really did cheer up my evening! )

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