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freak-accident419 · 8 months ago

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OH MY GODDDD

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

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | 18+ ONLY

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)

#came in my pants #HELLOO????#I LOVE THIS SM #clapton davis x reader #clapton davis smut #youre such a talented writer i love you wifey #muah muah #<3

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