#clapton x reader

[legitclaptondavis]

taps mic is this thing on?

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⋆｡°✩ I'm the one and only Clapton Davis! give me sum time to get used to this platform

⋆｡°✩ Riley practically begged me to get an account, so here I am! she also just said my blog looks atrocious, but I think it's pretty cool B)

⋆｡°✩ A fun fact about me is that I ate 61 hotdogs in 3 mins, which I think says a lot about my pure and utter dedication to the grind

⋆｡°✩ I love skateboarding, music, girls and guys, movies, and getting froyo [ specifically in that order ;) ]

⋆｡°✩ I don’t rlly like dancing and conforming…and a couple of people, but i’m chill about it

⋆｡°✩ Ask me anything!! or dm me? I could be in class tho :/

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Yolo!!

(- account run by 🦇 )

[jealousjersey]

₊⊹ ꕤ˚large and in charge ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

pairing ★ sub!josh futturman x dom!reader blurb

synopsis ★ yours and josh’s relationship has gotten bland, and when you suggests pegging, it takes a big turn.

warning ★ pegging, cumming, no gender specific reader, mentions of rough patches in relationship, begging, moaning, thrusting, penetration with toy, toy use

dating josh futturman wasn’t the worst thing in the world…you loved him. and he loved you, but your sex life wasn’t ideal, you were ultimately tired of how vanilla things have gotten. so whose gonna blame you if you suggest something…uncomfortable ;)

“baby, i was thinking we could…try something different. you’ll think it’s weird but i’ve looked it up and it’s not! many people do it! and i was thinking that we could…try it and see if it works for us…” you say nervously to your boyfriend, placing kisses on his shoulders, specifically focusing on his freckles

“well what is it” he replies hesitantly, knowing you could say anything

“uhh, have you heard of…pegging? like me fucking you?” you say, almost stuttering.

“uh…yeah i’ve heard of it…is that something you’d want to do?” he asks, completely open to the idea of it. something about you being in charge this time really does it for him. he’s always thought about it this way…him being a sub for you, it’s mainly the theme in his mind when he masturbates.

“yeah..yeah i do. are you up for it?” you ask. he nods his head eagerly, showing you how much he wants this. you never expected him to be so…open to this. it almost made you want to take him right there…but the equipment is needed first.

“okay, do you wanna look for one with me? we can order a strap on from amazon.” you say, motioning him to lay down with you. you hold him close to you as you open amazon on your laptop.

“does this one look good?” you say pointing at the screen, showing a pink translucent dildo with sparkles implanted into the silicone. it’s no huge dildo by any means, maybe a 6 inch. you wanted him to be comfortable his first time, and not just shoving a 12 inch in him.

be nods his head, his arms sill wrapped around you and head buried in your chest. “yes, that one is good” he whispered, looking almost embarrassed by the action of looking for one.

“i’ll order it baby” you place a kiss on his red cheek, flushed with embarrassment. your kiss, this simple soft gesture melts his nerves away.

friday

the day comes, you get a notification that a package is on the front porch. a decently sized white parcel with a sticker showing your address, the sender shows the person you ordered it from. it’s finally here.

you rush inside and go to your bedroom, opening the package, accidentally waking him up. it doesn’t matter how much sleep he gets, he can always manage to get more.

“it’s here? already?” he says, wiping his eyes away from the sleep and yawning. but as he sees it in your hands, the translucent pink dildo, his face turns a deep shade of red.

“mhm…you ready?” you ask, excitedly. you tried to act nonchalant about it but god it was hard when you’ve wanted to do this for so long.

“yeah…i’m ready.” he says, sitting up in bed, his hair messy and his eyes partly closed with sleep apparent in them.

directly on the beat, you get lube from the front drawer and slide it around the dildo, josh can’t help but get hard at the sight of this. he almost wishes you were doing that to him.

“take your pants off and get in doggy style” you say to him, trying to sound as seductive as possible but he can’t help but laugh.

“god don’t say it like that” he chuckles, but he does. his ass looks so good like this. you spread some lube on your fingers and insert them into his hole, something about the way it clenches around your fingers makes you shiver with excitement.

“that feel good?” you ask, pumping another finger inside him, watching his dick gradually get harder as it touches his stomach, still in the same position.

“mm…cold” he whimpers. “getting hard…put the toy in please” he begs, he looks so cute like this. scared and cold just waiting for your next move.

“gonna put it on slowly okay?” you say, reassuring him. all he can do is mumble as you insert the slick toy into his hole, feeling the way he flutters around it. he lets out a soft moan of pleasure.

“more….” he whimpers, and you obey. you push in more, almost filling him up completely, the sensation of being in control makes you so excited for this.

you push in deeper, hearing him grunt, moan, whimper. it all makes you wetter.

“m’gonna cum…please say i can cum please” he whimpers, dick hard against his stomach with precum leaking down his chest.

“just a little more, you’re doing so good josh” you encourage him. “such a good boy, taking my strap so well.” you coo.

your hips rut into his ass, the strap on hitting his walls as they clench around it.

“so tight…so good for me” you say, knees wobbling from the position you stand in.

“good boy, you can cum now josh” you say, pushing further into his hole, and with a loud moan. he cums, and god….youve never seen so much in your life.

his cum squirts out of him, leaking all over the bed, then pooling on the floor as it spills. god, he makes such a mess.

“such a good boy” you say as you pull out, a wet pop filling the room as his hole returns to its normal size.

“sorry…i made a mess…” he says, turning completely into a bottom.

you press a kiss against his lips and get a towel, wiping his chest as he lays on his back, his dick softening.

“don’t worry baby…did you have fun?” you ask. he nods eagerly.

your sex life just got a hell of a lot interesting.

[jhutchismyl0verb0y]

So jts confirmed? @legitclaptondavis

[myussytastelikeapple]

THEY ARE SO CUTEEE IT MAKES MY HEART MELT (Kinda wish it was me) I LOVE HIS SMILEE

(Also the hands up the jacket?!??!?!?!?!!!)

AND HE LOOKS SO HOT LONG HAIRRRR AHHHHHH

(Screaming without the s)

[joshs-big-toe]

i cannot explain to you the grip this man has on my heart. ALSO HIM AT THE ZAK BAGANS MUSEUM??? AND MEETING ZAK??? (i literally love ghost adventures)

[jellypopswag]

𝘾𝙡𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝘽𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙!~

♡ ♡ ♡ jelly's notes ; clapton davis x gn!reader headcanons, present day, t rated, lapslock, includes mentions of alcohol and drug use

☆ Incredibly devoted to his partner

☆ will share his earbuds with you whenever possible

☆ he loves going on walks with you and listening to his music, forced to brush up against each other to keep the earbuds from falling out

☆ finds himself rambling pretty often, whether it's about how his day has been or a new song that he's discovered

☆ he appreciates a partner who will listen to him, and uses those moments of long discussion to cuddle with you or be physically affectionate

☆ his ideal date night would be watching a movie with you at home, cuddled up on the couch, and then listening to music until you pass out cuddled up against each other

☆ extremely clingy

☆ with no intention of changing that fact

☆ never sleeps well when he isn't sleeping with you

☆ will knock on your window late at night at least four times a week, asking to sleep with you

☆ doesn't snore, but if you're laying your head on his chest-- you can hear a graveled huff, and feel a rumble gently tinge your skin

☆ texts like it's still 2012

☆ "gtg 2 class. luv u ;3"

☆ if you're going to a party, he always wants to come with

☆ he's not overprotective, but he can get anxious about you and your safety

☆ feels the most comfortable and at ease when he can see you

☆ will follow you around

☆ preferably, close enough to have an arm wrapped around your waist

☆ tons of pda

☆ holding hands, laying your head on his shoulder, etc etc

☆ tells you that he loves you constantly

☆ tells you how beautiful you look at least once a day

☆ would use cheesy petnames with you if you wanted to, ironically or unironically

☆ when you sleep together, he always tries to stay up later than you-- and bask in a few minutes of listening to your gentle breathing, admiring your relaxed, sleepy expression

☆ switches between big and little spoon frequently

☆ doesn't enjoy cooking on his own. however, he loves cooking and baking things with you

☆ he's a very bad cook though, fair warning

☆ would smoke pot with you (hc post specifically about this is currently in the works!)

♡ ♡ ♡ thank you for reading! my other works can be found in my table of contents~ © jellypopswag

[idfkknowlol]

Real

[deadgirlzneedlovetoo]

More Clapton Davis fics?? 👀 your last one was so good😭😭💟

I’m Busy, Doll

Warnings: dom clapton, light degradation

Pairing: Dom Clapton x Female Reader

You desperately rocked your bare core against Clapton’s thigh, needing more help than you were getting from just this alone. "Clapton please, I'll be good" you whined, looking up at him desperately. 

He pays you no mind, carrying on with what hes writing, little fucker, muttering a dismissive "I'm busy doll."  You whimper in response, rutting yourself on his clothed thigh, repeatedly brushing your clit against it. 

The friction was delicious and it did make the coil in your stomach tighten, but it just wasnt enough. All you wanted was his big fingers thrusting into you. You let your eyelids flutter shut, and you brought a hand up to your breast, playing with your nipple and whimpering softly. 

You think about how his fingers usually feel inside you, stretching you out deliciously as they curl upwards inside your spongy walls, making you writhe beneath him. 

This brings you closer than you were, rutting yourself mercilessly against his thigh and whining and whimpering loudly, begging him to touch you. "Clapton please, just a little bit of help please" 

Your eyes widen in surprise when he shoves his free hand in your mouth, but then you suck on his fingers as if they were his cock, listening to his low voice. "Be quiet, i told you i was busy and you couldn't wait an hour, its my thigh or nothing doll" 

The sound of his voice and his fingers in your mouth are nearly enough to drive you over the edge. You suck his fingers harder, sinking your teeth into them as you finally manage to cum all over his thigh. 

He winces a little when you bite down on his fingers "fuck, little slut" 

[solarissun]

We are never, ever getting back together.

afab!reader x aged up Clapton Davis

Summary: You moved houses and jobs just to get away from Mike after he abandoned you and your 6-year relationship. But, one day he shows up in the vacant apartment next to yours. You quickly make it your mission to make every night a living hell for him with the (unknowing) help of your old high school fling.

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, p in v, fingering, hair pulling, porn with plot, no use of y/n, hard dom, unprotected (wrap it please), angst, exes, daydreamed violence, aged up character

A/N: I’ve never posted my writing before due to being insecure, but now that I discovered this fandom on Tumblr, I decided to suck it up and see where it goes! I’m sorry if this is bad, I wrote it at 3 am two nights in a row. I just had to write something before I forgot all my ideas. Enjoy!

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You hated him. You hated him so fucking much. All you wanted to do was watch him wear your hands around his neck like a necklace. And there he was, standing outside the vacant apartment beside yours, cardboard boxes surrounding him.

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You're running late to work, having slept through your alarm. You quickly hop out of bed, jump into the shower, and throw on whatever clean enough clothes are on your laundry pile.

As you run out your door, you pause, noticing the piles of boxes lining up the wall of the apartment next to yours. You smile, waiting for whoever it is to walk out. You honestly didn’t mind your previous neighbors. By all means, they weren’t the friendliest of people. They’d bang on your walls if you even played your music one digit too loud.

So, honestly, you couldn’t help but admit you were pretty happy when they moved out. As you eye the boxes that take up half the hall, you feel yourself getting excited.

After a few moments, you see him.

Your heart drops, and you feel your whole life falling apart in just one second. He turns to look at you, your eyes locked on each other. Both of you pause, not a word leaving your mouths.

Almost exactly 2 and a half years ago, the love of your life, the man you pictured spending the rest of your days with, left. He didn’t warn you, he didn’t even call. You came home, and all of his and his sister's belongings were completely cleared out of your apartment, gone without a trace. All he left you was a text. A single text.

“I found someone new, I’m sorry. I truly wish you the best. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

After a few months of rotting in your bed with mascara-stained pillows and tear-soaked bed sheets, you got tired of wasting away. You moved away to a new, cheaper apartment, not warning anyone of your departure. You wanted a fresh start. A new job, a new home. A new you. All you craved was a way to forget the past, and you were so close.

Except after 2 years, the past was standing in front of you, only a few feet away. Anger bubbles within you, the deep cuts he left when he abandoned you all of those years ago tearing open and filling with nothing but pure, burning hatred.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You say, his face twisting.. into god knows what. You want to ask him so many questions. You want to get on your knees and beg him to tell you why he did what he did. At the same time, you want to sock him in his mouth. Instead of doing either, you turn on your heel, walking away as fast as you possibly can.

He doesn’t call after you, he doesn’t chase you. Instead, you hear the faint click of a door shutting behind you. Your anger turns to anguish as you hurry down the hallway, trying desperately to put as much distance between him and you before breaking down. You find a maintenance closet, slam it behind you, and sink to the floor. You sob until your throat is destroyed and your eyes are dry.

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All you can think about while you work is him. Are you grading your students' homework? Mike. You’re yelling at your class for being too Rowdy? Mike. He lives in your head the entire day, and no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is the look on his face when he saw you just a few hours ago.

The school day is finally over, but you dread going home. You wish you could curl up under your desk and live there for the next few decades. But you can’t, so you suck it up and drive back to your apartment.

You get to your door, fumbling with your keys as you quickly try and escape the hallway. You hear the door next to yours click open. You rest your head against your door in defeat. He walks by you quickly, not even glancing towards you. You clench your fists, swinging your door open as soon as you unlock it, slamming it so hard behind you the frame shakes.

You want to cry, just like you did before. But no tears spill. Your eyes don’t even water. All you feel is rage.

You decide right then and there, you're going to make him suffer for what he did to you. Besides, maybe if you truly make him miserable he’ll move back to wherever the hell he came from.

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Later that night, you start plotting different ways you can get him to pack up his shit and run away with his tail between his legs. You think of hundreds of possibilities ranging from glitter bombs in his mail to… Clapton. You shake the thought out of your head immediately. You can’t do that to him. He’d probably be down for anything, to be honest.

Despite that, you tuck the idea into the back of your head, writing it off as a last resort. You want to start with more petty things before immediately jumping to the most extreme idea your mind can muster.

You quickly form a short list in your head, smiling as you daydream the look on Mike's face as you go through each scenario. Around midnight, after you finish coming up with every possible insane revenge plot you can think of, you crawl into bed.

After tucking yourself in, you Bluetooth your phone to a speaker, turning it up. You play the most infuriating, mind-numbing song you can think of. It starts blasting out, the speaker shaking on your bedside table. You sigh, sinking into your pillow as you hear Mike’s old bed springs creak through the wall.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the same song looping repeatedly. He doesn't knock on the door. You don't even hear him speak, let alone breathe through the wall. You groan, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you realize it might be pointless.

Despite your failure on the first night, you continue to blast the same song night after night, all with the same result. After almost 3 nights of getting only a few hours of sleep, you give up. You have to step up your game if you want to get results.

A few weeks pass without you tormenting him. You want to make him feel safe. You want to make him feel like you realized it was all a waste of time. Well, you also waited a few weeks since that's how long it took for the prank package you ordered to come. Sure, the package was a bit pricey, but you decided it was worth it either way. As soon as the post office stops by your apartment, you snatch up the box, almost ripping it out of the poor mailman's hands.

You quickly customize it so Mike believes not only is it his mail, but that some random man from Florida sent it. At first, you had thought to sneak into his apartment and throw glitter over everything, just like you'd do back in high school. But, you need to be careful about how you go about this. Unless you want a lawsuit to land in your lap, you need at least some amount of deniability

After deciding it's perfect, you leave it directly in front of his door. He might think the placement of the box is a tad suspicious, but you rationalize it by telling yourself he’ll feel so special he’ll open it on the spot.

After a few hours, Mike comes home from what you assume is work. A part of you wonders why in the world he works on the weekends as well. You forget about the thought quickly as you flip open your phone, watching through the camera that comes with the box. You watch in anticipation as you hear the sound of tape tearing off of the cardboard. Your smile widens as you see Mike's face appear in the frame, peeking into the box.

After a few heartbeats green, blue, and pink glitter explodes directly into his face. He yelps, dropping the box immediately. As soon as the box thunks against the door, more glitter explodes out, covering his entire living room. You hear him groan through the wall, grumbling about how petty and childish you are.

You’re laughing way too hard to even care he knew it was you. Tears start streaming down your face, and you clutch your stomach as you try to breathe. You finally got him. You feel on top of the world as you look at the camera through blurry eyes. All you see is a beet-red Mike decked out in sparkles. You start laughing even harder as he flips off the camera before stomping on it, destroying the feed.

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Despite how his misery made you feel at first, you start to get a little less happy as the days pass by. He hasn’t talked to you about it and he hasn’t told anyone what went down, not even the landlord. A fraction of you begins to feel a little worried he might be planning. As you ponder the thought, you hear a knock on your door.

You creep over to the peephole, seeing no one standing at your door. You crack it open, worried Mike might be standing outside, waiting to ambush you. Instead of Mike standing around the corner with an airsoft gun, there's an Amazon package.

You smile, realizing exactly what it is. You ordered soundproof headphones so you could sleep while also torturing Mike. You quickly take it to your kitchen, tearing it open without a second thought.

What. The. Fuck.

Glitter sprays everywhere. Directly into your eyes, all over your dining table, all over the countertops. It even reaches the sink. You scream as you try and claw the glitter away from your face. As you stumble towards the sink, glitter continues to coat your entire kitchen.

This means war.

You immediately flip open your phone, not even bothering to clean the mass of glitter that’s coating your kitchen. You text the one person you know would do anything for you.

“I need you, Clapton.”

He found someone new? Well, so did you. And you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure he fucking knows.

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During your high school years, you and Mike became inseparable. It was the two of you against the world... Until Clapton Davis came along. The three of you became the best of friends. You always knew Mike was jealous of Clapton and how much he captured your attention. Despite how you felt towards him while you were younger, you chose Mike. And he threw it all away for some random bitch.

So, now you’re choosing Clapton.

A month ago, you two decided to reconnect and reminisce about old times. You had him over a few times just to watch a few movies, but the most you’ve done is kiss. Every time he’d come over, you knew he wanted more. And he was getting exactly that.

You lay in bed, waiting for just the right time. Around 2 am, you smile to yourself as you faintly hear Mike shuffle into bed and sigh as he sinks into it. Thank god for the paper-thin walls. You reach over to your bedside table, squinting into the light. You flip to Clapton's contact and text, “Do you think you could come over right now?” You had originally told him to come over the next night, but it had to be at an ungodly hour, or it wouldn't be as satisfying. Almost immediately He texts you back, “Are you okay?”

“I just need to see you sooner.” He immediately texts back a thumbs up, and after a little over 10 minutes you hear a knock at your door. You unzip your hoodie, quickly making your way to the front of your apartment. You open the door and there he is. He clearly had just woken up, wearing a tank top and grey checkered pajama pants. A fraction of you feel bad for calling him over like this, but you push it aside and remember who’s sleeping just on the other side of your bedroom wall.

He raises his eyebrow, unsure of how to ask why you ‘needed him.’ You don’t give any explanation before you throw yourself at him. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. He sucks in a breath, clearly confused. That confusion vanishes when you press yourself against him, pulling his waist against yours.

He wraps his arms around your waist, walking you into your apartment. He walks you backward, your back hitting the kitchen counter. You whimper as you feel him hoist your thigh up, holding it as his hip. Suddenly, he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him, your eyebrow furrowed. You sigh as you see him looking at your kitchen in utter confusion. “What in God's name happened?”

The kitchen is still completely decked out in glitter. The moonlight slithers its way through the window, illuminating the sparkles, making it look like a thousand stars splattered against the walls. You laugh a little, brushing it off. “Nothing Important.” He seems like he wants to say more, but as you grind your hips against his, he immediately forgets it. He groans, bending down to press his lips against your neck.

You tangle your hands through his hair as you feel his lips brush your neck. He starts sucking the skin below your pulse, making you whine into his ear. You gasp as you feel his teeth meet the plush skin, nipping at the sore spot. You slowly start grinding against him harder as his tongue swipes across the already numb skin. He groans against your neck, his breath hot against it.

His fingers slowly brush down your body, leaving goosebumps erupting on every inch he touches. His hand reaches your waistband, fiddling with the elastic. You whine against his shoulder as his fingers dip lower, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. You slowly grind your hips against his finger, desperate for more friction. He picks you up by your thighs, his fingers digging into the skin. You wrap your legs tight around his waist, holding onto his neck. He quickly carries you to your bedroom, throwing you down as he reaches your bed. He lays you down, sliding next to you.

He presses his lips against yours again, this time wasting no time to dip his fingers into your panties, not even bothering to remove them. He drags his digits through your folds, circling your clit. “Shit, you’re already so wet.” He gasps out. His middle finger teases your entrance before slowly sliding in. He slowly pumps in and out of you, curling his fingers on the spongy parts inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

“You like that?” He asks, and you nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. You feel him add another finger and your walls clench around him. “Fuck!” You cry out, frantically grinding against the palm of his hand begging for more.

He adds a third finger, and you see stars. He pumps faster and faster, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You just barely overplay your volume, remembering Mike. As soon as your legs begin to shake, he removes his fingers, ruining your orgasm and leaving you feeling empty. Your eyes flutter open and you stare at him, whimpering.

He slowly puts the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth, cleaning them off. You bite your lip as he blinks at you through his long eyelashes, savoring the taste. He smiles down at you once he’s done, sliding your zip-up off your shoulders. He slowly undresses you, a pile of clothes beginning to form on the floor. He leaves you in nothing but your panties. His breath hitches in his throat as he studies every curve of your body.

You do the same to him, helping him pull his shirt off his head. Your hands quickly fly down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down to his ankles. His tight grey boxers leave little to the imagination as you see the outline of his hard-on, begging to be free. You do exactly that, pulling them off of him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach.

Your eyes trail along every vein and detail, taking him in. He’s average, but somewhat girthy. The tip is hard and red, already leaking with pre-cum, slowly dripping down his shaft. You reach out, your thumb collecting it. You stare into his eyes as you suck it off of the pad, a bittersweet taste spreading across your tongue. As soon as your thumb pops out of your mouth, he grips onto your hips, pulling him on top of you. He slides your panties to the side and you moan feeling the cold air hit you. He slides his tip through your folds, collecting the wetness.

You slowly sink down onto him, gasping as his tip enters you. He grips your waist harder, holding you down. “You can take it.” He moans out. He slowly pushes himself in a little more, and you swear you hear him whimper. You cry out, laying down on his chest. “Shit!” He goes inch by inch, and you groan louder and louder as he fills you out.

He pushes in, faster this time, and you finally feel his hips meet yours. “You’re such- Shit! You’re such a good girl.” Suddenly, he grabs you harder by the waist, flipping you over. You gasp as your bare stomach meets the rough sheets of the bed. He grabs your hair, pulling you against his chest, somehow hitting so deep you see white.

You moan out his name louder and louder as each thrust inside of you quickens. He shoves you back down against the bed, thrusting so hard the headboard begins to slam against the wall. You smile into the sheets realizing the torture Mike must be going through right now. “You’re taking me so well…” He grumbles out, pushing deeper into you.

The smile is immediately wiped off your face as he moves one hand away from your hair and slithers it down to your clit. He rubs circles on it with 2 fingers. You grip your fingers into the bed sheets, screaming into the mattress. Your vision starts getting blurry as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter. Pure euphoria tears through you as his fingers quicken as well as his hips.

“I’m close-“ He groans out as your walls clench around him. He rubs faster and faster circles on your clit and your legs start to shake uncontrollably. You scream louder and louder, and your walls start to spasm. Quickly you hurdle over the finish line, coming all over his dick. You feel tears running down your cheeks as you feel him release inside of you, his hips stuttering.

You call out his name one last time before he pulls out of you, lying down next to you. He looks over at you, tears spilling down your face and your fingers still bunched up in the bedsheets. He laughs as you give him a shaky smile.

“I’ve imagined that since grade 12..” He whispers out. He reaches towards you, brushing your hair that’s plastered to your face with sweat. “Me too..” You smile, moving forward to press your lips against his. He kisses you back, pulling you on top of him. He smiles up at you, his face flushed.

“Round two?”

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Your eyes flutter open, the warm sun creeping through the blinds, bathing your room in a warm orange glow. You slowly reach next to you, feeling the muscles on Clapton's back. He stirs, turning onto his back. His eyes slowly open, and he slowly looks over at you. He stretches up, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I better go…” You get up as well, turning and placing your feet on the cold wood floors. You gather up his and your clothes from last night, handing them to him. After you're both dressed, you lead him to your front door. He opens it and steps out into the hallway, starting towards the elevator.

As soon as you hear Mike's door click open, you quickly grab Clapton's wrist, pulling him back towards you. You get on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He grabs your waist, pulling you against him. He slips his tongue in your mouth, his hand untangling your hair. After a few seconds, you pull away, resting your forehead on his.

“I’ll see you around?” He says, smiling. “Of course.” You grin, pecking his cheek. He unwraps himself from you, turns around, and walks away. He doesn’t even seem to notice his old best friend who is standing just a few feet away, watching.

Once Clapton’s out of sight, you turn to look at Mike. Oh, he looks absolutely wrecked. His curls are a tangled mess and the bags under his eyes are even deeper than you’ve ever seen them. He has the same look on his face you’ve seen him have when men would flirt with you on your dates. But, he also just looks.. sad. You expect him to turn back into his apartment and walk away but he speaks instead.

“The glitter wasn’t enough for you, huh?” You scoff, anger filling inside you at his audacity. “A girl can’t have fun?” He raises an eyebrow at you and a small smirk creeps onto his face. “You think I don’t know how purposeful that was? Do you have any respect for others?” You laugh, right in his face. His mouth twists into a nasty scowl, his stupid smirk wiping immediately off his face.

“Mike, I lost every bit of decency I had towards you when you abandoned me for some..” You don’t finish the sentence, instead letting his mind fill in the blank. He doesn’t look angry, he just looks disappointed. He looked at you like that when you were still together.

You’ve always hated that look.

He opens his mouth and closes it, clearly wanting to say something important but deciding against it. He shakes his head and turns back into his apartment, closing the door behind him softly.

You do the same, opening your door and sliding down with your back against it. You pull your knees up to your chest, rubbing the bruises on your sides that Clapton left. You rest your head on your knees and sigh.

“God, what am I doing?”

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

[sleepyhutcherson]

while we were getting high

“how many special people change? how many lives are living strange? where were you while we were getting high?” — ‘champagne supernova’ by oasis.

pairing: clapton davis x gn!reader

word count: 1.1k words

summary: where clapton and you get high almost every weekend except this time some words are exchanged.

tags: fluff, smoking, underage smoking, marijuana use (not mentioned though), honestly the smoking part isn’t really in detail but they’re high, best friends to lovers, oasis being praised and blur hate (i do not condone!), use of y/n, feelings being confessed sort of?

author’s note: i should be working on requests but i really had to urge to write for clapton since there is barely any content for him. why am i writing a fic about smoking when i have asthma. there’s brief discussion/debate about which of two bands are better (the bands being oasis and blur) but is that worth tw? like i feel like some people (by what ive seen) can take that stuff really seriously but i really don’t mean any hate towards oasis nor especially blur, i simply think that clapton would definitely be the type of guy to get into a debate over bands, or which band is better in this case, but don’t take anything seriously!

Your focus is not on Clapton’s rambling, instead you’re drawn to the familiar glow in the dark stars that stick to his ceiling within the many band posters he stuck up there. You’ve counted these stars several times before as this wasn’t your first time getting high in his bedroom.

You groan when you hear the same song start again from Clapton’s Ipod. He was the type of person that would obsess over a song and play it nonstop until he grew tired of it. His latest victim: ‘Champagne Supernova’ by Oasis. You don’t know how he hasn’t grown tired of listening to it on repeat, I mean, you have already! “Do we really have to listen to it again?” You whine, shifting around uncomfortably in his twin sized bed. The two of you were pressed up against each other, it was incredibly uncomfortable and yet you both always ended up in his bed for some reason.

A dumb smile curls up on his lips that you manage to catch briefly before returning your gaze back at his stupid ceiling. You don’t know why your heart quickens but you blame it on the amount of weed you smoked. I mean, it was probably that. “Yes, come on, Y/N, this is music! Real music.”

“‘Real music’?” You question, only to piss him off. A part of you liked seeing him angry, honestly. And you knew just how to push his buttons.

“Yeah. Unless you can name a better band.” Clapton challenges with an arrogant voice.

You could name so many other bands that have had a better discography than Oasis but you choose to name the band that you knew would rile him up. With a grin on your lips now you answer with what he would consider the worst band to name in this scenario.

“Blur.”

The words strike Clapton. Maybe he was being dramatic but honestly he found your choice offensive. He props himself on his elbows, no longer laying down completely. His face is scrunched up with slight disgust and confusion, an expression that resembles a child who’s just had a taste of a lime. “Blur?” He says with disgust in the word.

“Yeah,” you reply with a calm attitude. “They’re pretty good.” You continue to look up at the ceiling but Christ would you love to see the look on his face. “Better than Oasis.” You add for good measure.

You don’t know what reaction you expected from him, or well you did. You figured he would go on a long rant you wouldn’t be able to escape about how Oasis was in fact better than Blur. You did not, however, expect him to get on top of you, it’s so swift and sudden that you don’t even know how to respond. He pins your hands on either side of your head, your eyes now meeting his dark, mischievous eyes. Was he…grinning?!

Now you’re confused.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” he teases, his body pressed up against yours. This is…not good. It feels good, sure, but Clapton was on top of you. Clapton, your best friend who you’ve known since grade seven. “We both know you’re just saying that to get a reaction from me.”

His hands grip onto your wrist, holding you in place. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe you just liked how he held you down. “Am I?” You play along, acting dumb.

His grin only deepens, his eyes frantically flickering from your eyes to your lips, your own eyes glued to his pretty pink lips. Fuck this wasn’t good. “You are,” his voice is deep now, a tease in his tone.

Before you know it, he’s inching closer to you. His fucking grin mocking you. “Clapton, we—“ shouldn’t, you think about saying but fuck, fuck, fuck his lips were grazing the skin of your neck now, his warm breath tickling you a bit. And that stupid song was still playing!

His thumb softly traces circles around one of your wrist. A part of you wishes your hands weren’t restrained down so you could tangle one in his hair. “We what?” He asks, his breath hitting your delicate skin.

“We—“ you can’t even finish. He doesn’t let you, his lips gently pressing a soft kiss against your neck, one that makes you tense up. Such an innocent kiss and yet that locked you. He continues to pepper gentle kisses on your neck, it’s so pure and sweet, especially when you feel his smile in each kiss.

“I’ve wanted this for so long now,” he admits before continuing to kiss your neck, his thumb continuing to trace around your wrists.

“You have?” You ask. A part of you thinks about telling him that you’ve secretly wanted this too for a bit now.

He stops to look at you now, his cocky grin replaced by a gentle smile. He nods with such a soft expression on his face. “Mm-hmm. I thought about what it would be like to kiss you every day, even while we were getting high.”

A crimson colour tints your cheeks. Clapton smiles more at that. God, you look so lovely now: flustered and underneath him, his hands wrapped around your wrists, your eyes boring into his. He would gladly count every eyelash, memorise every colour that paints your eyes.

“You’re high.” You giggle trying to play it off, though you don’t try to move away. Not that you could due to how he was holding you down.

“Yeah, you are too,” he says with a soft chuckle. His eyes don’t leave yours, he desperately wants to hold your gaze for as long as he can, honestly. “But even when I’m not high I still adore you.”

Fuck.

Your eyes widen a little, your mouth slightly hanging open due to his words. Clapton grins at that and before you can say anything else, he leans down to kiss you. Your lips move with his, not resisting his lips. You honestly don’t think you’d be capable of resisting him after all of this.

One of his hands laces with yours, the other still pinning you against the mattress. He continues to kiss you and he really doesn’t want to stop. He’s desperately craved this for so long now. He smiles in the kiss then, realising he has the privilege of kissing you.

His smile felt so great against your lips.

After some time you both pull away, a huge dumb smile on Clapton’s face that makes you smile at how adorable he looks. He plops down, laying his head against your chest, wanting to be near you for longer. You don’t even have to kiss, you really don’t have to do anything but be close to him. That’s really all he wants. All he’s ever wanted from you.

taglist: @cancelledkaley @stanheights-boyfriend @ploty-twist @jhutch-bf @laurrrelise @joshfutturman @gryffindorsblog @sofiehutch @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @helen-on-earth @fallingboba @cassiecasluciluce @maticka @jhutchissupercool ♡︎

[xcherryerim]

Forgotten Bond(age)

- Sub!ClaptonDavis x HardDomGn!Reader -

“Keep making you kneel, keep making you bet all of you. The more you fall, dangerous. You know it, but your eyes still reflects me. Good boy, just one word, you shout.” — Beg For Me by Red Velvet

word count: 3.7k

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | 18+ ONLY

Warning: Set in College (Reader and Clapton are 19 and in prom night they were 18) | Mentions of bullying (Reader was Clapton’s bully in hs) | sexual tension | degradation kink | light mentions of underage drinking | handjob | oral sex (reader receiver no genitals mentioned) | light ‘bondage’ usage (yes despite the tittle there’s little of it, I just wanted to make the joke) | slapping | porn with basically no plot | words like: Goodboy, fuck toy, puppy, master are used here. | overstimulation (?) | a bit of bratty Clapton.

Summary: At a freshman college party, you spot Clapton, the individual whom you used to torment in high school, who promptly initiates a search for you despite your efforts to evade an encounter. However, instead of seeking answers or explanations, he seems to desire something else, as he appears to seek out a more intimate and provocative connection, aiming to submit to your dominance.

While college life was enjoyable, it was also challenging and burdensome, with you meeting new people but also finding yourself submerged in a plethora of extra responsibilities that you had not encountered.

You knew you deserved a break, so, fortunately, there was a freshman party scheduled on that night. Even though you weren’t too fond of attending gatherings such as this one, you tried to have fun.

As you walked into the party, the atmosphere was electrifying. The music was roaring, and everyone seemed to be having a great time. Nervously, you scanned the crowd, half hoping and half fearing that you wouldn't run into anyone you knew from high school. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw unfamiliar faces, allowing yourself to relax a little more and join the lively group of strangers.

A few drinks later, you felt slightly braver, conversing with various students who shared similar interests. Just as you thought you might be able to forget about your stressful past, the unexpected happened - you spotted Clapton Davis.

Your heart raced, and your stomach twisted into knots. You were stunned that he had attained college admission, and second, your relationship with him was awkward and tense. Yes, you had acted like a bully towards him in the past for some inexplicable reason. Despite your past behavior, you couldn't deny the allure of his charm and charisma. He possessed an undeniable magnetism that drew you near, even as you tried to push away those feelings of attraction.

While you prayed he would not notice your presence in the room, an immense feeling of panic and dread emerged within you. However, your horror intensified when you realized he had indeed noticed you. You made your way to a separate area of the house, hoping that he would not recognize you.

Despite your attempt to enjoy the mixer, your mind was overwhelmed with memories and thoughts of Clapton, depriving you of the ability to enjoy the party. The loud music and the plethora of individuals you once enjoyed are making you anxious by the minute.

You ran upstairs and entered a quiet bedroom. As you tried to collect your thoughts, you heard the door creak. Someone else entered the room. The darkness made it impossible to recognize who it was, but the mere scent confirmed it was indeed him. In the dimly lit bedroom, your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that Clapton had followed you.

“Clapton!” You blurted out a mix of shock and apprehension as you encountered him again in this enclosed area.

“Shh!” he whispered in a rushed manner, placing his finger on your lips in an authoritative gesture. “Tell me, what’s your deal?”

This wasn't how you imagined your reunion with him would play out, but here you were, trapped in a small room with the very person you wanted to avoid.

"My deal?" you echoed, trying to regain your composure. "I don't know what you mean."

His finger on your lip sent an electric current through you, and you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of fear and desire. This was not how you expected this evening to go. Clapton's gaze bore into you, daring you to defy him, to speak your truth.

"You know exactly what I mean," he retorted, his voice low and forceful. "You spent our entire high school years bullying me, and now you try to avoid me like I'm some sort of ex to you?" He emphasized his point by pressing his body against yours, bringing his face closer to yours, eyes locking in a heated stare.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, attempting to mask your anxiety and uncertainty with a carefree facade. "Forgive, forget, Clapton?" You said to him, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed taken aback by your response, and for a brief moment, his harsh exterior cracked, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability.

But it was short-lived. His eyes flashed dangerously, and he retorted, "I don't forgive or forget easily," his tone growing soft yet menacing. "Besides, aren't we supposed to start fresh here in college?" He stepped back, arms crossed over his chiseled chest, his toned torso visible beneath his shirt. Your eyes involuntarily trailed over his muscular frame, noting the hidden strength and masculinity that lay beneath his calm demeanor.

His posture was confident and authoritative, leaving no doubt about his intent. You found yourself suddenly hyper-aware of the heat emanating from his body, the faint scent of his cologne, and the electricity that seemed to crackle between you two.

"So, how's life treating you, huh?" He asked casually, tilting his head slightly to the side as if genuinely curious about your well-being. "Did you miss anyone specific during the summer?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "You're asking like you want me to say you're the one I missed," you responded, trying to keep the conversation light and playful.

A smirk graced his lips, revealing a hint of white teeth against the lightly tanned skin that he gained over the summer. "Well, I wouldn't expect anything less from you." He chuckled softly, moving closer to you. "But you know what they say: 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.' Maybe I missed you too."

His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an underlying current of genuine curiosity. It was clear that he wanted to know how you felt about him, even though the situation between you was far from amicable. And despite everything, you couldn't ignore the spark of attraction that flickered in his eyes, seeming to defy all logic and reason.

"You missed me?" You raised your eyebrow, feigning disbelief.

"Maybe a little bit," he admitted, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Or perhaps it's just the thrill of the chase."

He continued, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly. “What do you say we start fresh? No more games, no more hiding. Just us, getting to know each other again.”

He paused, studying your reaction carefully. There was a challenge in his eyes, daring you to accept or reject the proposition. And despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel drawn into his boldness.

“If I were crazy, I would think you’re asking for something else, Clapton.”

“Oh, I’m not asking for anything crazy,” he replied, his voice dropping to a sultry timbre. “I just want to know if you missed me as much as I missed you.”

He moved, closing the remaining distance between you two, and his warm breath grazed your ear as he spoke. You could feel his heart racing, matching yours. He was undeniably aroused by this confrontation, and so were you.

“Now, are you going to tell me that you didn’t think about me once or twice?” he asked, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your waist. “Or maybe more than that?” There was a playful challenge in his tone, a promise of something more beneath the surface. His fingers dipped lower, sending shivers down your spine, and he leaned in, brushing his lips against your neck.

“Are you implying that I am the only one missing our little... interactions?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His hand slid up again, caressing your jawline gently and turning your face towards him. “Or perhaps you’ve found someone new to degrade?” He smirked. “I would be jealous if you did.”

“Believe me when I say, Clapton,” you responded, trying to keep your voice steady. “No one compares to you.”

Your words hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. You couldn’t believe what you’d just said, but there it was—an admission of sorts—an acknowledgment of the intense chemistry that existed between you both.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and inviting. “Maybe we can work out our differences, huh?” He trailed soft kisses along your jawline, his hands exploring your body with possessive intensity.

“But first,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. “Give me what I’ve been craving since that goddamn prom night.” With that, he got on his knees, looking at you with eyes full of devotion.

At that moment, you knew things were about to change. The tension between you and Clapton wasn’t just about the past anymore; it was evolving into something new—something electric and passionate.

“Slap me.” He blurted it out; his request made you still. “Slap me,” he repeated, his voice laced with desperation.

You hesitated for a split second, unsure of what to make of his unusual demand. But then, you steeled yourself and raised your hand, slapping him hard across the face. The sound echoed loudly in the quiet room, and the sting of your palm against his cheek left both of you breathless for a moment.

Clapton's eyes widened at first but then closed for a moment before slowly opening back up. A look of relief washed over his face as he reached up, touching the red mark that now adorned his perfect features.

“That’s better,” he growled, a devilish smile on his lips. His eyes glinted with a mixture of pain and pleasure, clearly enjoying your dominance. “You seem to love seeing me humiliated, don’t you?”

“Oh, just look at that,” you taunted, leaning down to whisper into his ear while slapping him lightly across his cheek. “You were just made to kneel, weren’t you?”

"Only for you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

The power dynamic between you two had shifted dramatically, and you couldn't deny the rush of thrill that came with it. You felt a sense of control over him once again but it was mixed with guilt and confusion over your past actions.

“Get up,” you commanded, your voice firm and commanding. “Show me how good you are at submitting.”

Clapton obeyed without question, rising slowly from the floor. His eyes locked on yours, full of longing and submission. His erection strained against his pants. Seeing him like this, needy, was both exhilarating and terrifying but you couldn’t deny the adrenaline rush it gave you.

“Take off your clothes,” you ordered, barely able to contain your excitement. “Then get back on your knees.”

Without hesitation, he complied. His muscular form was revealed as he stripped off his clothing, leaving nothing but his skin and desire between you. Once he was fully nude, he returned to his previous position, waiting for your next order.

“Spread your legs,” you instructed, watching as he complied. His erect cock pointed skyward, dripping come onto the cold floor.

“Look at you.” you sneered, a cruel grin spreading across your face. “Trembling. Panting. It’s ridiculous.”

“Is that so?” he replied, giving you a foolish smile. “It’s just the reaction I get when you’re mean to me. I can’t help but like it.”

“Okay then,” You said, sitting on the bed as you looked at him. “Touch yourself.”

Clapton’s surprised chuckle met your command. “I mean, I could use a hand,” he quipped, attempting humor amidst the situation.

“You want me to touch you?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Well, you’ll have to earn it.”

Without another word, he launched himself onto the bed, pinning you beneath him. His frame flexed as he removed your clothes, revealing your naked body to his eager gaze.

Clapton’s fingers glided across your throbbing between your legs, drawing gasps from your lips. The contrast of his rough skin against your heated flesh sent waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. Each touch was deliberate and calculated, designed to push you closer to the edge.

His fingers continued their sensual exploration, the touches carefully thought out yet wildly erotic. You felt his heart beating against your chest, mirroring the rhythm of your own.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice filled with expectation. “Am I being a good boy?” he murmured close to your lips.

His enthusiasm was infectious, spurring on his actions. The tempo between your legs increased, each touch more urgent than the last. “Please, can I taste you? Can I be allowed to be masturbated by you? Can I be inside you if I’m good?”

His words hung in the air, a plea for your approval. “If you promise to do as I say, then yes.”

He nodded, his eyes shining with anticipation. “Yes, I’m your puppy; I’m your fuck toy. I’ll become anything you want. Just please, keep using me.” His words rang true, echoing his willingness to fulfill all your desires.

“Then, I suppose you know what I want now.”

Clapton understood perfectly. He leaned down, trailing soft, sensual kisses across your stomach until he reached your inner thigh. His lips lingered there for a moment, a tender gesture that belied his usual bravado.

The anticipation was almost unbearable, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip to stifle the growing moan. His warm breath brushed against where your thighs meet, causing involuntary squirms under his careful attention.

Finally, Clapton’s skilled tongue made contact, tracing delicate patterns. A sharp intake of breath escaped you as pleasure surged through your entire being. Your back arched involuntarily, every nerve ending ablaze with sensation.

His expert mouth worked magic on you. He seemed determined to give you the best experience possible, pouring all his passion and skill into his task, and it was working. You felt yourself nearing your peak, each lick bringing you closer to ecstasy. Your fingers dug into the sheets, nails biting into your palm as you tried to prolong the agonizingly sweet buildup.

When it came, your climax was intense, sending shockwaves throughout your body. An animalistic cry escaped your lips as you bucked against him, losing yourself in the sensation. Once it subsided, you found yourself limp and breathless.

You glanced at him, noticing his disheveled state. “Who gave you permission to come?” you snapped, anger seething in your voice.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Hey, I can’t help if you’re moaning my name,” he declared, his tone surprisingly calm.

“That doesn’t matter!” you retorted, slapping him lightly across the face. His resulting moan only served to infuriate you further. Turning away from him, you searched for something—anything—to regain control.

Your gaze landed on a nearby wardrobe, and you headed towards it, pulling out a leather belts. Returning to the bed, you straddled him, your weight causing him to groan in pleasure. Ignoring his reaction, you grabbed his wrists firmly, securing them with the belt to opposite corners of the bed. The restraints were tight, ensuring he wouldn’t escape without your permission.

“Bondage?” He asked with a grin.

Looking down at him, bound and vulnerable, you felt a rush of power. This was where you belonged—in absolute control. You leaned closer, whispering menacingly, “Next time, ask for permission.”

His eyes widened, reflecting both surprise and...was that excitement? He enjoyed your sudden turn of events. If he wanted more of this dominant side of you, however, he would need to provoke you further.

“And if I don’t?” he asked teasingly, challenging you.

“Then you won’t get what you want,” you warned him, your voice low and dangerous. “Remember who’s in charge here.”

His grin never faded, though. “Oh, I think I’ve already gotten what I wanted,” he countered, glancing down at your body. “Maybe it’s time for round two?”

A slow smile. spread across your face. He wasn’t afraid of you, not really. Instead, he thrived under your dominance. Perhaps, in this twisted way, he was enjoying himself.

“I don’t think you deserve another round, Clapton,” you stated, trying to maintain your authority.

His response caught you off-guard. “But isn’t it fun hearing me moan for you, Master?” he purred, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Hearing him call you ‘Master’ sent a thrill down your spine—an unexpected pleasure. Was it worth risking your control again just for that sound?

“Fine. I’ll play your game under my rules,” you stated, quelling the wave of pleasure that surged through you at his words.

Following suit, you spit into his cock, generously spreading your saliva on his hardening lenght. Each stroke of your hand caused him to cry out in mixed pain and pleasure, his hips buckling against yours in response.

“Slo—slow down!” he begged, his leg movements becoming increasingly frantic.

“I’m touching you; isn’t this what you wanted?” You asked coolly, maintaining eye contact.

He groaned, unable to deny the truth in your question. “Yes,” he managed to choke out between ragged breaths.

“Good boy,” you praised, continuing your work. Your hand moved faster, stroking him in sync with your heartbeat. The sensation was almost too much for you to handle, but you pushed through it, focusing solely on driving Clapton to the edge of sanity.

“And you better come when I tell you to,” you stated decisively, increasing the speed of your strokes. Tears of both pain and pleasure trailed down his face, evidence of his mounting arousal.

Clapton’s breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Every movement he made was dictated by the pleasure you provided, and every gasp was directed toward you. It was heady, intoxicating power, and you reveled in it.

“Please, please let me come!” Clapton cried out, his eyes filled with pleading. His body writhed under your skilled touch, in direct contrast to his words.

Instead of yielding to his request, you increased and lowered the pressure simultaneously, driving him to new levels of ecstasy and desperation. His cries grew louder, and his face flushed with exertion and frustration.

“Fuck you!” he screamed, losing his patience. His hands trying to pull away the belts that were stopping his hands from any movements. It was then that you slapped him again, a sharp sting against his cheek.

“Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!” He stammered, clearly caught off guard by his reaction.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking coldly. “You’re ‘sorry’? If you weren’t so useless, you’d spend less time begging for forgiveness.”

It was meant to hurt, but there was also a hint of amusement behind your words. You found enjoyment in pushing him and watching him struggle to find a balance between submission and defiance.

His face flushed deeper, but he stayed silent, accepting your judgment.

“I’m your useless fuck toy, aren’t I?” He asked, his voice tinged with light amusement. Despite his words, there was an undeniable resignation in his tone.

You considered his statement, finding it oddly pleasing. He recognized your power over him, yet he still engaged willingly. With a small smile, you replied, “Yes, you are.” There was affection in your words, hidden beneath the veneer of dominance.

He returned the smile, tilting his head playfully. “Your only fuck toy?” he questioned.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Was this what you wanted? To be the only person he submitted to? Or was this just another game, another illusion of control?

“For now,” you hedged, unsure of your feelings.

He sat up, gazing at you thoughtfully. “For now, huh?” He grinned, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “Interesting.”

You chuckled, returning to a perfect rhythm. Unlike before, it was neither too slow nor too hard, which earned you grateful looks from Clapton. His body began to relax, riding the waves of pleasure you created. His breaths synchronized with your movements, creating a hypnotic pattern.

As you continue, you couldn’t help but wonder where this was leading. There seemed to be genuine emotion behind his words, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. Perhaps there was more to this relationship than control and submission.

Suddenly, he stiffened beneath your hand, signaling his impending release. You slowed down, waiting for the right moment. “Come now, Clapton,” you whispered, your voice velvety soft.

An exhilarating burst echoed through the room as he did exactly as you commanded. His muscles tensed, his eyes rolling back in pure bliss. As he lay there, catching his breath, you felt a rare sense of satisfaction wash over you.

Clapton abruptly kissed you, his lips pressing against yours hungrily. You returned the kiss, savoring the taste of him. In that brief moment, everything seemed possible. Could this become more than a game? Could you both find a real connection beneath your kinks and desires?

As you broke the kiss, your hearts raced in sync. Your faces were flushed, sweaty, and breathless. Clearing your throat, you untied him from the bed, and then you stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “Get dressed,” you managed to croak out.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Sure thing, Master.” He replied playfully.

Both of you got dressed, and the air between you was thick with unspoken tension. Finally, you were both dressed and ready to leave. As you reached for the doorknob, he grabbed your wrist, stopping you mid-step.

“I was thinking maybe we could go to my dorm.” He stuttered, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I found this underrated band yesterday, and I wanted to listen to their discography. You could join me if you want to.”

Surprised but intrigued, you paused, considering his proposal. “Alright, lead the way,” you finally agreed, as he released your wrist. “But remember, this is purely platonic,” you added with a wink.

“Yeah?” he chuckled. “Platonic, huh? Yeah, because what we just did was purely platonic,” he retorted sarcastically.

You chuckled, acknowledging the truth in his words. “It was!” you teased back.

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing,” he muttered, stealing a quick kiss before ushering you out of the room.

Walking through the party crowd together, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you close. His warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Whether this relationship would remain strictly physical or develop into something more, one thing was certain: you enjoyed each other's company.

Despite the chaos surrounding you, there was a serene calm within the two of you. His hand rested gently on your hip, grounding you in the moment as you navigated the sea of people. Every step you took, and every laugh you shared, brought you closer to each other, bridging the gap between your past and present.

Fin. Thank you so much for reading! Sorry if this is mid <\3 I have family over and school is stressing me out.

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

tag list: @lile6969 @sun-spider13 (i forgot who else asked like a week ago lmao)

[katnissimabottom]

scenario with clapton davis

“wanna make out?” 

clapton’s eyes widened slightly with surprise, but not much due to how delirious he was from fatigue. “yeah.”

you leaned in, connecting lips with the boy.

*after a while*

you parted, eyes fluttering open to check the clock, realizing just how late it was. as you moved your head, he instinctively followed the direction of your lips in mild desperation. “fuck, it’s four,” you said, voice soft and slightly raspy. “we should get to sleep.”

“hmm, I guess you’re right,” he agreed with a slight pout, knowing he’d rather stay and kiss you all night.

[jealousjersey]

𐙚₊˚⊹♡”fuck you”⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

ᯓ★ tags : gn!soft!dom!reader x sub!clapton davis. requested by anon.

ᯓ★ enemies to lovers (been wanting to write one of these for so long. tysm anon for bringing me back, i am so unmotivated rn)

ᯓ★ mentions : soft-dom reader x sub clapton davis, edging, degrading kink, vulgar language, unprotected sex, cream pies, both reader and clapton are of age. keep it 18+ guys, porn with plot, mostly just jersey horny rambling

everything is doing well in your last period AP biology class, except one thing. your lab partner is clapton davis. the one person in this school you don’t get along with. he annoys you and teases you whenever he can, honestly you don’t even know how he got into honors classes, you weren’t even sure he was going to college, but that’s none of your business right now.

“hey loser” clapton sits beside you and smacks his gum in his mouth. you hate when he does that, or anything really. “do you have any idea what we’re doing? i’ve been confused this entire time” he says genuinely. for the first time in his life he actually wants to ask for help.

“uh yeah, we’re just supposed to research stem cell differentiations. it’s easy don’t worry we can get this done in like 20 minutes” you say confidently. you actually have no idea how to go about this project but honestly it doesn’t matter.

“oh, okay. are we gonna do the project at my house or yours?” he asks, almost nervous to ask.

“mine is fine” you say as his face turns a light shade of pink from the invitation. he quickly hides his face, and especially the blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“you know, you’re pretty cute when you’re quiet” you tease. obviously trying to get under his skin.

“s-shut up. just shut up” he sutters, the pink still on his cheeks. this makes you giggle, seeing how he just melts when you take charge, when over something as simple as directing a project.

after the bell rings, you get out of your chair and pack your things up, clapton frantically says “hey, wait up-”

you take your earbud out and reply with a simple “hm?”

“am i riding with you- or-?” he asks, almost unsure about the situation.

“yeah, you can ride with me. just- wipe your shoes before you get in my car” you say as you lead him out to the parking lot to your forest green dodge charger srt. he’s almost in awe of your car. he now knows why you asked that of him.

as you two ride to his house, you notice something. is he fucking hard right now? you think as your eyes gaze at his bulge in his pants. you let out a small chuckle on accident.

“what?” clapton asks, repositioning himself to where his package isn’t on full display. he now knows you know, and god is he embarrassed. his cheeks are bright red as his leg bounces up and down

“you- you got something in your pants clapton” you laugh. obviously teasing him at this point.

“just- just drive, okay?” he says, face pink as a beam of sweat falls from his forehead. god he’s cute when he’s nervous.

as you both arrive at your house, he goes inside with his bookbag on. you lead him to your room, a minimalist decorated with colorful art on the walls. your room looks like a museum, well it a museum had a tv and a cd player- but nonetheless, your room was nice and clapton liked it. he especially liked the vanilla scent in your house.

“so- let’s address it, why did you get all hot and bothered in my car?” you mention, and it’s obvious now. he’s blushing like crazy, just like a little sub. it’s really adorable actually, but you just want to see how far you can take this.

he doesn’t respond, but his bulge is back. and you just have to take care of this, before any work can get done. “you want some help?” you offer as you smile teasingly. he just nods his head up and down acceptingly, he needed this, especially after you teasing him almost made him cum in his pants.

you unbuckle his jeans and he whimpers at the touch of you. god he was such a little bottom for you, just putty in your hands. as you get his pants off, you notice the precum leaking through his boxers and you immediately get turned on by the sight. you imagine the taste of his cum and how his dick would feel twitching inside of you.

you take his throbbing dick out of his boxers, he’s average but girthy. the tip is bright pink, soaked in precum. as you hold his cock on your hands you rub your thumb over his slit. he twitches instantly. “fuck, please- please fuck me” he whimpers. you smile at the sound of his groans for you. “you gonna be a good boy? gonna listen to me and do what i say?” you ask.

“fuck…yes i’ll be a good boy….just for you.” he says as he bucks his hips into your hands. you smile at his response, just what you wanted to hear. you sit on his cock and bouncing up and down, overstimulating him as his jaw goes slack as he moans softly “fuck…fuck yes…god you feel s’good” his eyes roll back in his head as his dick twitches inside you

“fuck, fuck- i’m- gon- gonna cum” he stammers. “cum inside, you’ve been a good boy.” you reply.

he shoots hot thick lines of cum inside you, filling you up. he’s so far inside you that there’s not even a chance of him for you to leak out. he basically bred you, but god it felt so good.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀

[jhutchismyl0verb0y]

SAID SHE WANTED

5 GUYS

SHE AINT TALKING BOUT BURGERS

I pull up w four friends and that pussy

GETTIN MURDERED

[myussytastelikeapple]

BROO THIS EDIT IN PARTICULAR GOT ME IN A CHOKEHOLD LIKE GOOD BOY? HIM GETTING ON HIS KNEES?! (ima faint)

Also lil announcement

I just took a break from writing for a lil bit but now I’m BACKK onn trackkkkkkkkkkkkk I’ll start writing today/tomorrow

[joshs-big-toe]

sorry for my lack of posts lately school has beeen kicking my ass. i miss yall though, and im working on some fics too!!