Clayton Beresford fluff

He'll make coffee while you sit on the kitchen counter, the apartment still wrapped in dawn. He won't ask what you're thinking but slide your favorite mug toward you.

Some mornings, the only sound is the spoon clinking against ceramic. These are the mornings you feel loved the most.

He always walks closest to the road, and puts a blanket over your shoulders when you've fallen asleep watching a romcom.

Last Sunday, you were curled up on opposite ends of the couch. You were reading and Clay was pretending to read.

Every few minutes you'd catch him glancing over the top of his book.

"What?" you laughed.

"Nothing," he said quickly, looking back at the pages that he wasn't reading.

"You keep looking at me,” you said softly. He shrugs, cheeks faintly pink. "I like seeing you here." Your heart nearly melted into the couch cushions.

Today, after one of the worst days you've had in months, you come home exhausted and quiet.

Clay's already brought home takeout from your favorite place and one of his hoodies that you keep stealing.

He settles beside you putting your comfort movie on. Your shoulders touch and the two of you eat in silence, nothing else for nearly an hour.

Eventually you whisper, "I'm sorry I'm not talking."

"You don't have to," Clay says softly. Then his hand quietly to yours until your fingers find his and he intertwines them. His hands are soft and warm on yours as he brings your hand up to his lips and gives it a lingering kiss. "I know that you love me," he whispers.

You stare at him lovingly. "I didn't say anything."

his little kiss curl…. stop

pairing: clay beresford x reader | word count: 1.4k

summary: though Clayton is committed to recovering from a heart transplant, he has no problem with giving you what you want.

warnings: smut (18+), fluff, self pleasuring, thigh riding, begging

a/n: not my proudest work ngl. originally posted on my ao3. happy reading!! <3

Your hips twitched and squirmed beneath the bedsheets. You couldn’t sleep, you actually had a difficult time sleeping these past few months without the feeling of Clayton inside you, taking you in ever so slowly.

It’s been six months since his heart transplant surgery, and he has been concentrating on full recovery since. Of course, at the expense of your guys’ nightly routine. Being deprived of sexual contact did no justice to your own body’s desires as seen with your struggle to keep yourself under control.

You eyed your husband, who laid next to you soundly asleep. Again, it’s been six months. If you had to go any longer without any form of sexual activity, you might end up killing yourself.

With a deep inhale, you shimmy in your bed, tugging your pyjama shorts down with your feet, them coming off in a jiffy and you gently kicking them away. Not hard enough for them to make contact with the floor but plenty enough for it to lay on the edge of the mattress. Next came your panties, which were tighter and required more force to remove them so you resorted to your hands. Gently kicking them away, your hands slowly made their way to your aching core which was already wetting. Taking two fingers, you danced over your cunt and began inserting yourself, pleasure washing over you but it didn’t fully hit until the tip of your finger meets your clit.

“Oh, that’s the spot,” you muttered and then took your palm to your hand to stick your moans. You arch your back into your touch, your hands were a sticky mess already. Brushing your fingers against your clit, you nearly let out a guttural cry but the hand over your mouth prevented it from freeing itself from your lips. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as you slipped in and out of your cunt.

“Good lord,” you whined. “Clayton,”

“Do you really miss me that much?”

You froze with your fingers still encased in your folds. Clayton rolls over on his side to be fully facing you and a smirk teases the corner of his lips, revelling in your palpable embarrassment. You didn’t need a mirror to know you were a blushing mess right now.

“You didn’t hear all of that, right?”

Clayton chuckles. “Probably most of it, I’d say a good ninety nine point nine percent,”

“So you heard all of it,” you narrow your eyes.

“Probably.”

You whimper and bury your face in your pillow, humiliation washing over you. You could hear Clayton laugh, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. You feel his hand run through your hair.

“Clayton, you’re killing me,” you say, voice muffled thanks to the plush of the pillow. “You can’t leave me hanging this long and not expect me to fulfill my dirty thoughts.”

Clayton hums, fingers massaging your scalp. You continue your rambling.

“And I know you’re healing, baby. I know. But it’s unfair that I be put through such sexual shortage, don’t you think?”

Clayton’s amusement only shines when he lets out a hearty laugh. “You’re dramatic,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “All though, if you’re that desperate…” his voice lowers and your head rises.

“I’m listening.” You propped.

With that familiar smirk that always made your stomach fill up with butterflies, he shifts himself to lay on his back and he spreads his legs. Hand motioning for you, you slowly climb up and settle on his lap. Your hands rest on both of his shoulders to stabilise yourself, and he entwines his fingers with yours while his right hand rests on the softness that is your thigh.

Once you were well adjusted, he began to bend his knee upward, angling it until it made firm contact with your core. You bite your lip to try and restrain a moan but it’s no match.

“Go on, princess,” he purrs, immediately sending a shock wave down to your cunt. God, you missed this— missed his seductive whispers, his gentle way of words to assure you before diving in. “I know you’ve been dying for this.”

His hand, the one encased in yours, moves to grip your other thigh, holding you steady. The intensity of his gaze naturally drew you in and left you with no other choice but to abide.

That’s when you dipped yourself between his knee and a ragged gasp drew from your lips.

The sensation was definitely unlike other experiences, but not terrible. Before the surgery, you’d never tried out thigh riding with Clayton before. He would only comply with oral (either one of you receiving, but he mostly preferred to grant you his tongue), doggy style, or his favourite: piv. In a nutshell, Clayton preferred to take the steering wheel. In fact, you wouldn’t mind doing this all night till dawn with him.

Your core is fueled with desire and your pace quickly turns from slow and concentrated to speedy and smooth. Clayton’s smirk shifts to a cheeky grin, basking in your desperation. Perhaps if he’d already recovered in his entirety he’d be taking you under and thrusting his cock inside you. Then again, you were definitely not complaining about this, even under such limits. You became too lost and worked up in the unruly bliss that’s flooding your senses.

His knee is probably drenched right now.

That thought brought some embarrassment to you, obvious by the way your cheeks flushed pink. Clayton titters at that.

“Hmm, you’re embarrassed, are you now?” He inquires in that warm and gentle tone that he knows damn well heightens your sexual attraction to him. “So wet for me, what a needy girl.”

The pet name dragged out a torn groan from deep in your chest and you eventually lost it and started going even faster. You couldn’t fathom how he wasn’t beginning to lose himself in a wave of pleasure. He seemed to be entranced in the harmony of your movements like it was seeing a Renaissance painting for the first time in person.

“Don’t you worry baby, you can make a mess,” he mutters whilst dragging his fingers along the skin of your leg. “I’ll clean myself up when you’ve finished.”

“Clayton,” your voice quivers and you release a strained, “I’m gonna cum.”

“I’m ready for you whenever you are, my princess.”

Swallowing hard, you pick up the pace even more and you’re going fast as your lower half possibly could. Your strangled noises dragged on and your grip on his shoulders tightened. Hopefully you left no bruises.

Your back arches in sync with a strained cry, your hips rocking against his thigh. His fingers on your thighs tightened to ensure you didn’t fall over from the climax that was creeping up on you. One of your hands makes its way to his hair and you tug on it in rashness. If it weren’t for his and your own grasp you’d have most likely toppled over by now. He kept whispering what was a mix of sweet nothings and enticing encouragement.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you reached your peak, dissolving into the pleasure. An edged gasp and a shockwave seize your body, and you collapse onto his chest, his arms immediately enclosing you and pressing your form against his torso.

For a moment, you two just lay there. Silence. Nothing but that and your frantic breaths, which hindered with every passing second. Slowly, Clayton’s right hand shifted to sit on the small of your back, right above the curve of your ass. His left hand took the time to stroke your back and fiddle with the ends of your hair. After unwinding from your climax, you propped your chin up on his chest to look him in the eye with nothing but pure adoration. He exchanged your gaze, making your heart flutter. You close your eyes, press a gentle kiss to his collarbone, and rest your cheek against his chest.

“I love you.” You declared, and you couldn’t see it, but you knew he returned your words with a smile.

“I love you more,” He said and gently planted a kiss on the top of your head. You’d retort with a ‘no, I love you more!’ but to be honest, you were too worn out for an I love you war.

“Let’s hope the maids didn’t hear you.”

You bit back a giggle that still made its way through your lips, and so did he.

minors do not interact - 18+

Sometimes, I doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion!

YALL SEEN THIS? LORD

Clayton x reader

Warnings: hickeys, office sex, 2 year age gap,

NOT PROOFREAD

Clayton Beresford, the most richest man in Manhattan was your boss. The young powerful CEO is the one who caught your eye.

You adored him, his charming smile, beautiful blue eyes and his dirty blonde curls you wish you could run your fingers through. He was also close in age as you were 20 and he is 22.

You had been working there for almost a year. You did your best to be the favorite at your job so he can praise you at how well you do your job as his personal assistant.

You made sure everything was perfect for him, down to the slightest detail. You never had sick days or personal days because you loved seeing him, for he was the one who made your day a million times better with just his presence.

Today was special, is what he had said to you the day prior. For what reason? You have no clue, he only told you to go to his office once it was time to clock out. And you did just that, walking to his office, a light knock on his door as you wait. "Come in" you hear his thick, nice cozy voice.

You walk in, him sizing you up, staring at you appreciatively. "You are aware I'm not blind, is that correct y/n?" He says firmly.

You heart beat quickens, did he catch on? "I'm not sure i understand what you are saying sir" you speak quietly.

He gets up, walking behind you. You feel his warmth, his chest almost pressed on your back.

You shiver as he brings his hand on your shoulder. "I see you staring at me. You practically undress me with your eyes. Are you aware you aren't as subtle as you thought?" He whispers in your ear.

You feel your core throb at his words, squeezing your thighs together as tightly as you can. He notices your attempt to hide your arousal, his arm trailing down to your side and to your thighs. "No no, legs apart" his hand spreads your thighs apart.

You gasp at his touch, your breath hitching. "Now, I hope you know the feeling is mutual Y/N" He kisses your neck.

Your face burns at his kisses, moving your neck more to the side to give him access. He takes the invitation and sucks on some spots of your neck lightly, leaving faint marks.

"Clayton-" he stops, now turning your head lightly so he can get a good look at you. "Yes? I thought you liked this, me. Is there an issue here?" He spoke softly yet his voice was still thick with lust.

"Never mind. I was just taken back a little" you chuckle breathlessly. "I'm not doing no harm OK? Trust me" he resumes back to leaving marks on your neck and some of your collarbone.

"You're too quiet, let's change that shall we?" He picks you up, placing you on the desk, laying you back. You feel your skirt riding up, a cold wind blowing in between your legs.

"Just enjoy, ok?" He takes your lips in a passionate kiss, pushing your skirt up and moving your panties to the side.

He quickly unzips and takes out his leaky cock, pressing just the tip. You squirm, trying to move your hips. "Uh, I didn't say you can do all that, now did i?" He chuckles, teasing you.

He finally sinks in fully, his cock stretching you beautifully. He groans at the wetness and heat radiating off of you. "Fuck, you feel amazing. I should've done this since you first came here" He grunts in between words.

You feel his thickness splitting you open, something you have never felt before from any guy before. "Mr. Beresford, please, i-" then he cuts you off with a kiss. You can feel his tongue intertwining with yours in a messy kiss. He picks up his pace, pushing your legs more wider, lifting you a bit more off the desk.

You feel him way deeper than before with this angle. "MR. BERESFORD PLEASE! I'M GOING TO-" he cuts you off again, his middle and ring finger rubbing tight circles on your clit as he continues to pound you into his desk.

"That's my girl. You're doing so good for your boss, aren't you?" He grunts in your ear. You finally explode, his fingers and cock driving you to an insane climax. He follows right behind you with one last thrust. "I'm sorry sir" you look away sheepishly. He chuckles, pulling out slowly, both of your fluids seeping out of you.

"You have nothing to be sorry for" he grabs a tissue and cleans you up, then himself. You sit up, fixing your messy, wrinkled clothes, him tucking himself back in.

"I hope you know how to hide those hickeys" he traces the one on your neck with his finger. You're face reddens, now noticing the hickeys left on you. "My office is note strictly for us after hours y/n" He says as he fixes your blouse.