Hello! I was wondering if you could do an imagine where Clapton goes over to the readers house and have a smoke sesh, maybe make out and goes outside, riding his skateboard together🤷♀️🤷♀️
𝙎𝙢𝙤𝙠𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙨𝙝
♡ ♡ ♡ jelly's notes ; ~13k words, clapton x gn!reader, m rated, lapslock, shotgunning, mentions and depictions of smoking weed, more romance than i intended
he can't get enough of you.
he's excited to see you, even just by the way he knocks on your front door—eager, fast, and loud.
you've come to believe that, when it comes to you, he thinks like a dog. every minute spent apart feels like an hour, and every hour spent apart feels like ten.
"coming!" you exclaim as you emerge from the kitchen, carrying some snacks. you make your way to the front door— at a leisurely pace, of course. the longer he waits, the more affectionate he'll be when he finally sees you.
you place down an ashtray and some snacks on your coffee table— chips, freshly popped popcorn, soda— the kind of junk food that you feel less guilty about eating when you're doing it with someone else.
closing the distance between you and the front door, tugging it open, your senses are ambushed in an all-too-familiar way.
clapton pulls you into a tight embrace, enveloping you in his arms. this close, you can smell his cologne— a deep, masculine scent, with an addicting tinge of sweetness you can only smell up close.
after a moment of basking in his embrace, clapton pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes. "I missed you," he says, as if his eagerness to get his hands on you didn't make that obvious already.
you smile at him, his hands easing downward to grasp onto your waist— holding you there.
clingy is an understatement.
you reply with a quick kiss; just enough to leave him wanting more. "what movie do you want to watch?" you ask innocuously, pulling away from him to sit on your couch.
his hands slip from your waist as you turn to walk off, causing you to grab his hand and pull it into your own— so as to not lose physical contact with him completely.
maybe the clinginess goes both ways.
he interlocks his fingers with your own, sitting down on the couch right beside you— leaving as little space between you both as possible.
"anything," he says, like he often does, which is code for 'i won't be paying attention to whatever we watch anyways.'
you eye him for a moment, an amused grin tugging at your lips. he really does love you, if the adoration in his unwavering gaze is anything to go by. it's no wonder that, when you're in the room, he can't focus on anything else.
"alright then," you slip your hand out of his own, a conscious choice on your part to make sure he continues to ache for more. You grab the remote off of the coffee table to scroll through netflix.
as if your sudden lack of physical contact knocked him out of his lovesick daze, he suddenly remembers something.
beside you, you hear shuffling as clapton adjusts to pull something out of his pocket: a small plastic bag, with a few pre-rolled blunts inside.
very classy.
turning to glance at him, you chuckle at the sight; already amused by how this night will inevitably go.
he leans in close, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before tossing the bag on the coffee table, shoving his hand into his other pocket to tug out a lighter.
"if I didn't know any better, I'd think that you're trying to get me to do drugs," you comment, with all of the amusement your teasing tone can convey. you grab the bag off of the coffee table, tugging it open.
"good thing you know better, then," he says, tone just as playful, and snatches the bag from you with a cheeky grin. "this is all for me."
you huff, quickly followed by a laugh, reaching to grab the bag from him. he lifts the bag up above his head, keeping it out of your reach. his grin has turned into a full, cocky smirk.
in your attempts to grab the bag from him, you end up in a rather compromising position; leaning over him, with one hand firmly on the back of the couch as your other arm stretches out as far as it can— trying to grab the bag and failing. to avoid losing your balance and collapsing atop him, your outstretched hand lowers to prop yourself up-- accidentally trapping him beneath you.
the laughter between you both slowly quiets, as the implication of what tonight entails begins to set in.
and, as cocky as clapton is, moments like these make his blind confidence melt.
he's in awe of you atop of him for a moment too long, leaving you just enough time to grab the plastic bag from clapton— getting off of him in the process.
laughing triumphantly to yourself, you pull a blunt out of the bag as clapton readjusts himself to sit upright. he grabs the lighter, shifting so that he can turn to you— an expectant glint in his gaze.
by now, you've long since realized something about clapton: he loves doing things for you.
if he had any say in it, you'd never have to lift a single finger again. oftentimes he doesn't even realize the ways in which he spoils you; down to his insistence that he always light blunts for you.
"let me do it for you," he'd said, the two of you crammed in the corner of a shitty house party.
you were just trying to score some weed, to make a shitty evening a little more bearable, but he thought you were beautiful— far too beautiful to do something so frivolous yourself.
you press the blunt to your lips— smiling around it, leaning into clapton just slightly— thumb and index finger holding the blunt in place.
with practiced ease, his gaze focuses in on your mouth— a quiet fizzle searing into the air as the other end of the blunt is carefully singed.
a comfortable, intimate silence falls over you both as you inhale— the familiar, earthy taste seeping into your mouth.
a quiet clanking sound signals that clapton has tossed the lighter down, although you barely register the noise— a haze washing over you as you sigh, light puffs of smoke flowing from your mouth.
your throat burns with it, but you've done this enough times to be largely unphased. you inhale again, pulling the blunt from your lips to pass off to clapton.
clapton takes the blunt from you, and in one swift motion— his lips are pressed softly against your own, blunt carefully outstretched to be certain that he doesn't accidentally burn you.
it's easy to melt into clapton; from the addicting sensation of his kiss, to the gentle way in which his unoccupied hand snakes its way upwards to cup your jaw in his soothing touch.
it was no secret that clapton was a fan of shotgunning. it hadn't been a secret for quite a while, actually. once you two had established frequent smoke sessions with each other, it hadn't taken long before his lowered inhibitions had enabled him to start making some rather bold moves.
you lean into his kiss, tilting your head as your lips part just slightly. with a gentle huff, the pool of smoke seeps into clapton's own mouth-- filling the air between you both with a dizzying haze.
before you can fall too deeply into the passionate kiss, clapton is pulling away-- with a dazed, cheeky grin you can't help but to admire.
maintaining eye contact, clapton presses the blunt to his own mouth-- inhaling deeply. plucking the blunt from his lips, he shifts his body to set the blunt down in the ashtray on the coffee table.
everything happens in slow motion after that.
seizing the opportunity, you use his distracted state to your advantage-- waiting until the moment he lets go of the blunt to gently shove him down onto the couch.
he stammers for just a moment as you crawl atop him, clapton looking up at you with big, dazed eyes.
you make a conscious effort not to touch him-- body hovering above his. you lean down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his own. quickly taking the hint, he returns the kiss in tandem-- a puff of smoke flooding into your mouth once again and filling your senses with nothing but dizzying want and the desperate need to cling onto clapton and never let go.
foolish, to think you could last more than a moment without getting your hands on him.
clapton reaches up to you, one hand cupping your jaw as the other trails downward to your hips, pulling you closer to him.
you hum, the sound reverberating into his mouth as you place a hand flat on his sternum-- fingertips carefully stroking his chest.
the weed-induced haze easing into your bones causes the kiss, while initially passionate and firey, to melt into something more languid. slipping your tongue past his lips, the taste of him seeps into your senses-- causing your pounding heart to beat even faster. your breathing grows heavy, body desperate with want.
but you're not too far gone yet.
smiling into the kiss, savoring it for just a moment longer, you pull away completely-- lifting yourself off of him and sitting back down on the couch, grabbing the blunt out of the ashtray.
you take another deep inhale of the blunt; with no intention of sharing this time.
clapton, still breathless, sits upright-- hair slightly tussled from his previous position.
he huffs, gaze fixated on you. he could pounce on you right now-- reverse the roles and have you pinned beneath him, kiss you until you're dizzy with it, and you'd be completely fine with that.
but you both enjoy this game. the push-pull nature of it, the way that any pleasure you get, you've worked for. it makes the reward taste so much sweeter.
coming to a mental conclusion, clapton stands up, outstretching a hand to you. "let's go for a ride, yeah?" he asks, his familiar, bright tone tinged with a sense of admiration exclusive to you.
you raise an eyebrow. "you rode here on a skateboard," you retort, noting that there's no extra car parked in your driveway.
"that's what i meant," he replies, as you concede and reach out to grab his hand. he chuckles, tone sickeningly sweet, and interlocks your fingers as he lets you lead the way outside.
leaving the house, you barely get the front door locked before he's pulling you to follow him-- skateboard lying carelessly upside down in the center of your front lawn. from its position, you can tell he spared no extra time earlier when it came to coming to a stop and rushing to your front door.
his obvious eagerness to be with you; to see you, talk to you, touch you, is dizzying.
by the time you make it to the empty road in front of your house, skateboard tucked securely under clapton's free arm, the buzz of weed has gone from jarring and dizzying to soft and mellow; a warm buzz flooding your skin.
clapton pulls his hand away from yours to set the skateboard down, planting his feet on the board with practiced ease.
he places both hands securely on your waist, helping you step onto the board in front of him-- your back practically flush with his chest.
once stable, he moves to fully wrap his arms around you for just a moment-- leaning his face in close to yours. "ready?" he asks, kissing your temple when you reply with a nod.
moving back to a more stable, standing position-- hands retreating back to grip your waist-- he plants one foot on the ground, propelling you both forward at a relaxed, gentle speed.
The pace he's set is comfortable, allowing you to ease into his touch, not paralyzed by fear of flying off of his skateboard.
seeing that the road ahead is straight, and it'll be a short while before you're concerned with turning, you tilt your head back-- leaning it on his shoulder.
he laughs, and you feel the way his chest rumbles with it-- pressing a kiss to the juncture between your neck and shoulder; one of his favorite places to kiss you.
"clapton," you say around the blunt, eyes fixated on the stars above you.
he hums in acknowledgment, as if not wanting to speak and break the serene moment that has fallen over you both.
glimmering stars in the sky, with the chirp of crickets and the gentle bustling of tree leaves serving as background music to this moment.
and clapton, hands gripping onto your waist-- tight enough to be firm, but meticulously careful enough not to bruise-- with his face practically nestled into the crook of your neck.
you pull the blunt from your lips with a deep inhale. "i love this," you sigh. and maybe it's a sudden burst of confidence willed up by nothing but your own subconscious, or it's a drug-induced boldness, but either way, you only contend with yourself for a moment before saying it. "i love you." you continue, hoping clapton doesn't notice the deep, pounding throb of your racing heart.
you feel clapton stiffen just slightly, a subconscious reaction born purely out of shock-- and a weed-induced difficulty to actually process what you just said.
clapton's grip on your waist tightens just slightly, adjusting his head so that he's practically whispering in your ear. his tone, while packed full of barely contained joy, is also shaking slightly. he's nervous, and it's the most endearing thing in the world. "...really?"
you laugh. "so much for a romantic response," you tease, grinning from ear to ear.
clapton carefully brings his skateboard to a stop, leading you off of the board so that you can turn to face him.
he pulls you in close by the hips, gaze locked on your own.
you find yourself dizzy again, nerves beginning to prickle at your skin with every second of silence that falls over you both.
clapton takes the blunt from your hand and tosses it aside carelessly, kissing you in a manner so full of love you could drown in it.
he murmurs it against your mouth, then. a quiet "i love you too" sighed onto your lips, his own breath wavering almost unnoticeably at the end. not from uncertainty, but from a certainty so strong his body can't properly contain it.
you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in close as you kiss him deeper.
you're addicted to each other, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
♡ ♡ ♡ 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!)
