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alrightinbed-betterwithapen · 5 years

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Blue — Part Four — David Dobrik x Reader

A/N: okay so I can see this story going further, but let me know if you guys want this to have more parts. I loved writing this part! It’s got some communication and some orgasms. Two of my FAVORITE things. I dedicate this part to @purplechildbanana and @drummingforfreefood for reaching out to me and being some awesome hombres. Any way hope y’all enjoy! 😘

Warnings: yelling, crying, oral sex, kissing, smutty smut w/ a sprinkle of fluff

Summary: And it’s entirely your business if you pretend you’re fast asleep when he leans over to kiss your forehead. It’s also entirely your business how intensely your heart flutters and swells before the seeping darkness of the night pulls you in.

—- x —-

He wanted you?

Yeah, he wanted you bent over, or on all fours, or gagging around him, that was apparent. But, that’s not what was implied. You’re sitting on your balcony, night fallen around you. You had left the kitchen in the moments of silence after he stopped your kiss, needing fresh air. You’re too sloppy to really take in all this. You can’t believe David even came over in the first place. How can you go from being so angry that you’re screaming at him, to melting into the kiss he’d pulled you into?

The whole point of the two of you was to avoid this bullshit. And now, here he was in your home forcing you to acknowledge the shit you’re trying to hide from.

The sliding glass door opens and David steps into the night, taking the seat directly across from you. He looks just as confused as you feel, eyes trained on the table. The sigh you let out is louder than intended and he looks up at you. There are words on the tip of his tongue that draw you in and leave you waiting for him to speak.

“Do you- have you had an panic attack before?”

You shake your head, silent, as it seems like he’s not done speaking. He pushes forwards to lean his forearms on the table.

“Do you know what Sub drop is?” Again, your head shakes no.

“Well, I think you had both last night. I, um, reached out to my friend, Ilya, good guy, don’t worry. I- well, we... him and I have talked about this,” he motions between the two of you, “before... and I don’t know. It feels weird to Google this shit right?!”

You nod slowly, trying to coax him into finishing his confusing monologue.

“Anyway, I was freaking out. I called him and asked, like what the fuck? None of his tales of rough sex have ever ended like it did last night. And, apparently I’m an idiot, for not setting up like, a safe word? I don’t know, he yelled at me though. Said I’m a fucking moron for not explaining I’ve been on edge at work and that our... session last night might be more intense. But it’s not like he told me that however many weeks ago, after the first time we...,” he trails off, eyes going soft and staring at your throat.

“And, I don’t fucking know, I didn’t think we needed to talk about it. If felt very... natural, the way things were going. You seemed to liked it, I always made you come and you were there whenever I asked you to be. I didn’t stop to think, I guess. Everything that happened last night, was because I thought I was in control. I wasn’t, because I wasn’t making sure you were okay, and that’s a Dom’s job-“

No, you’d had it. You had followed his rambled train of thought up until the end, but no. That’s not right.

“Yeah,” you interrupt, desperately trying to dispel his obvious guilt, “but, isn’t it also my job to tell you when something isn’t working or is going too far? You can’t read my mind, you can’t just know, I mean... I had opportunities to stop what was happening and I didn’t. Because I wanted to make you happy, and I wanted you to make me come.”

“Exactly!” He urged, slapping the white table top, “That’s what Ilya said. If I put you in a position where you would rather come than breathe, that’s a fucking problem. I didn’t know, I didn’t know that’s how you felt until you passed out while I came in you, (Y/N)! I couldn’t, I couldn’t fucking breathe while I waited for you to wake up. Yeah, my stomach has a gnarly bruise, but fuck!”

There are honest to god tears in David’s eyes. You don’t think he’s ever talked to you this long about the two of you, ever. You want to hold him, which is something you had never wanted before. He sits, quietly, just searching your face for understanding.

“You, on the bed after,” he huffs out a short breath and runs his hand through his soft, dark locks, “That was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. The worst thing I’ve ever caused. I wanted to vomit when you started laughing. I fucking broke you, (Y/N), don’t you get that? You were sitting on my bed, fucking hurt, because I didn’t know what I was doing. I sent you into a panic attack cause your body thought you were DYING without air! I pushed you into Sub drop, because I wanted to fuck you!”

He looks broken and small after his shouted words die, probably mirroring how you had looked last night. You want to wrap yourself around him and whisper it’s okay, you’re okay, until he believes it. You lean in and wrap your fingers around his wrist, shaking him gently to grab his attention.

“I don’t know what Sub drop is, and I’ve never had a panic attack before, but you have to realize that wasn’t your fault alone. If anything it’s the result of how shitty we are in bed,” you assure him, rubbing small circles on his skin with your thumb, hoping to make him smile. “Last night was... bad. But. You’re here, and look at you, look how terrible you feel and how devastated you are. You have convinced yourself you’re the bad guy. Will you believe me when I say your not? You’re not. Not to me. We fucked up, but I’m not broken. I may be a little bruised and a little shook, but not broken. So, please, don’t do whatever this is. Don’t let this conversation be you saying goodbye. I don’t want that, I don’t want you to walk away from this.”

From us, you think, but don’t say.

He sniffles and takes your hand from his wrist. He traces the lines of your palm while staring at your hand. A tear from David face drops to the center, and he gently rubs it into your skin without looking away. The gesture is so symmetrical to the way he rubbed the tears on your face last night, fucking your throat without care. There’s so much care in the way his thumb makes tiny, concurrent circles on your palm. Your chest aches with a feeling you won’t give yourself the leeway to name.

“We do need to talk, about all this. Set up real boundaries and rules and whatever. Fuck yeah, let’s get a safe word. But, I don’t want to do this with anyone else but you. I will never trust anybody the way I trust you, especially after tonight,” you tell him, your voice slightly above a whisper. “I thought this was over, I thought... Yup, he’s never going to want to look at me, let alone fuck me again. But you showed up and I think that means something. So, please, stop this parade of self hatred and guilt and get on the same damn page as me. Move past this. With me.”

He finally looks up at you, eyes glassy with unshed tears and nods. You’re just drunk enough to pretend you don’t start instantly falling for him when he brings your hand up to his face and kisses the back of it. Gentle, kind, loving; not words you ever thought you’d describe this man as. But here he is, sweeping you off you drunken feet. You sit like this, his lips against your skin, unmoving in comforting silence for so long. You try to etch the image of David into your mind, his eyes closed, kissing your skin and holding onto you like a lifeline.

This is the moment everything changes for you two. You don’t really know that with any certainty yet, but the air around you both feels different, feels light for once.

“Yeah, no,” he says languidly, liquor and tiredness slowing his speech, “we should absolutely talk this through; I’m on the same book, page and sentence. But, I have a feeling we’ll accomplish more when sober.” He’s leaving quick, soft kisses to random spots on your hand in between words. Fuck you sideways, can you keep him forever? Or at the very least, the rest of the night?

You hum your agreement. You’re still so drunk and are now exhausted from your second encounter with David in one day. No orgasms the second time around, but hey, no mental breakdowns either. You call that a win.

Pushing yourself up for the table, you slip your hand away from David’s face and into his palm, intertwining your fingers. You’re pulling him to stand, then catching his swaying form before he falls over completely. The booze hits him hard now, not hitting at all while he was ranting. Standing definitely helped the process. David brings his head to rest on your shoulder, steadying himself in your embrace, when he asks, “Can we go to sleep?”

Five little words, with such innocent intention, knock you flat on you figurative ass. He’s never asked you for something as simple and complex as that. Sleeping with him, no sex? It feels like a giant step.

But, next thing you know, you’re pulling him back into your home and sliding the door closed before you can over analyze any further. You’re leading him into your room, guiding his clumsy body around the sharp edges of your apartment and pushing him into your bed. You flip the lights off and close your curtains tight, so the morning sun won’t get the chance to wake the two of you.

He’s trying to rip his black Vans off without untying them, when you throw your body into the warm embrace of your bed. It makes you giggle at him in the dark of your room, his soft laugh coming out to mingle with yours. You hear the shoes finally thud against a faraway wall as you slip your eyes closed and turn in bed to lay on your side facing him. You feel him lie closely next to you, his short breaths on your face letting you know he’s mirroring your position.

Your eyes don’t need to be open to feel his eyes boring over your features. A smile finds its way to your face when you whisper, “Sleep, David. You wanted to sleep.”

“Shut up. I’m drunk and I want to look at your stupid face, okay?” He tells you, sweetly. You’re falling into unconsciousness now, the comfort of your bed and reassurance of David next to you pulling you into sleep.

And it’s entirely your business if you pretend you’re fast asleep when he leans over to kiss your forehead. It’s also entirely your business how intensely your heart flutters and swells before the seeping darkness of the night pulls you in.

—- x —-

Can we go to sleep?

You think it’s that gesture that still has you gobsmacked when you awake in the morning to dry mouth, a pounding head and David snuffling lightly in your ear, big spooning the hell out of you.

We, is such a weird word in the context of your relationship with him. It had always been you and I, until last night. This is the first time since you’ve met David that you feel confident enough to actually recognize the word We as the best way to describe the two of you.

You woke up yesterday, ready to drown in your thoughts. Today though, you feel like you’re floating, his arms wrapped around your waist and holding you secure to his chest. Even with the hangover pulsing through your body, you’re swelling with a content feeling you’re not used to having towards the man cuddling you.

David’s pushing his head into your neck then, having to breathe in a mouthful of your hair when he yawns deeply. His hands push up your shirt, curling to rest on your lower stomach and his body is still wrapped around you, when he muses, “You know, you really do think so hard sometimes I can feel it.”

“Oh,” you croak through morning voice, amusement littering your words, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you from your slumber, your royal drunkenness? Or should I call you, your royal light weighted-ness?”

He pulls back from your body to let you settle on your back, still laying on his side, elbow bracing his weight. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something as he looms over you. A shiver runs up your spine, you don’t break his gaze.

Your body hurts from last nights alcohol, you should get some water and maybe take a shower. But, that’s not what you want. You want David to touch you, you want him to lean down and kiss you fully awake. You want him.

“If I kiss you with hungover, morning breath, will you kick me out?” he playfully asks, brushing your hair away from your face, inching closer to you regardless of his previous question. “It’ll be worth it, though, if you do kick me out” he alluringly murmurs, lips brushing over your right cheek before making their way down and across your jawline, never fully placing a kiss, just teasing your skin, making it bloom with goosebumps in his wake.

“David,” you gasp, when his lips make their way to your earlobe, tongue poking out quickly before biting so lightly you can barely feel his teeth. He’s pulling back, briefly looking for permission in your eyes once more, before slotting his lips over yours. The hand not bracing his weight holds your jaw like it had last night, gently guiding the kiss to the right angles for him to explore your mouth.

The wanton moan that rips out of you is out of place. It’s the moan of someone being throughly fucked and all David is doing is stroking his tongue against yours. You’re pulling his body on top of yours with urgency, legs spreading to fit his hips over yours. Your hands ball up the hem of his shirt as his kiss trails from your lips and down your neck. He’s not biting or bruising you, no, he’s kissing your neck like he cherishes it. Your resulting moan is obnoxious, so you distract yourself by trying to pull his shirt off completely.

The look on his face is pained when he stops his barrage of kisses to sit up and pull his t-shirt over his head. Sitting back on his haunches, his places both hands on your lower stomach and slowly pushes upwards, dragging your shirt with him. The touch is as intimate as the way he looks at you. Like it’s the first time he’s seeing you underneath him.

He’s pulling your shirt off as he lifts your upper body upright and then lays you back on the bed. His hands cup your face and he’s all eye contact, knees bracing his weight over you, want clouding his vision. Your hands slip up to rest on his chest. You’re dragging your nails down lightly, stopping at the top of the his pants, fingers curling around the waistband. He swats your hands away and shakes his head no before pushing himself down, eye level with the sleep shorts you’d thrown on the day before. He looks up at you mischievously before mouthing your core right through the fabric.

You throw your head back on the pillow as he pulls the flimsy material down your hips and off your legs. Spreading your legs out, he makes himself comfortable while pulling at your lips, gazing at your heat like a hungry animal. When his tongue touches you clit, your body seizes and jerks on the bed, too much too soon. But, then he’s kissing his way down to your slit, tongue flicking around, coaxing wetness into his mouth.

Breathing evenly isn’t an option when he covers you with his mouth wholly, tongue flat against you, moving and fluttering. His finger slips up and circles your slit before pushing in. You can’t look at him, not without losing it completely. So, you arch your hips, pushing onto his finger and against his face. The moan you feel ripple against your cunt makes you gasp out in return. Then he’s curling the finger upwards inside of you, pushing against the sensitive spot he knows all too well by now, sucking your clit into his mouth.

He’s devouring you, the effort apparent in the way his wrist works and his tongue massages you. You hadn’t noticed your legs start to close in on David’s head until he’s pushing them up towards your chest, holding them slightly to the side with one hand so that he can continue his torturous ministrations. The tightness in your stomach is compacting and you haul yourself up on your elbows to look down at him for a moment, wanting to tell him you’re close. But then a second finger slides into you, eased in by how slick you are, and pushes right next to the first. Your lower body jerks toward him as you groan out his name, falling back flat on the bed.

His mouth still latched around you, he glances up, eyes alight and dancing with energy. His tongue begins to undulate against your clit, eyes locked to yours pushing you further to the edge. Your soft, little pants of breath egg him on, make him speed up his mouth and start to thrust his fingers, never ceasing the pressure on your g-spot.

“Daaavid,” you groan out, just watching him, watching his focused assault on your pussy. “David, I can’t, I’m gonna-,”

“C’mon, do it. I wanna make you feel good,” he interrupts, pulling back far enough to speak through a low, gravely voice, “I wanna make you come around my fingers, I wanna feel it. Come for me, baby girl. I know you want to. Be my good girl and come.”

That’s all you need, the reassurance that letting go will allow you to be the good girl you always want to be for him. Well, that, and the way he takes your clit back into his mouth and sucks so hard you start to see black. His fingers halt their thrusting and push up into your sweet spot, rigid, rubbing rough, tiny circles on it. Your body bends as you start to come, eyes clinched shut and a scream ripping from your chest.

You’re writhing on the bed, still coming when you notice that David hasn’t slowed, he isn’t working you down from your blissed out state. He’s fucking you vigorously with his fingers again, tongue laving around your folds. And your falling orgasm doesn’t stop, it starts to peek again. Your hands tangle in his hair, unsure of if you want to push him away or pull him closer. Your hips are trying to jump forwards and back, but the hand holding your legs back press you harder into the bed, stunting their movement.

It’s too fucking much, you think, twitching on the bed, noises spilling out of you. You can’t comprehend the pleasure tearing through you when you start to fall into your mind. You’re losing consciousness again, but it’s not alarming like before. You’re falling into ecstasy and you welcome the feeling as you plunge fully into darkness.

—- x —-

You’re pulled back by soft kisses on your stomach, trailing their way back and forth across your abdomen. You’re body is still shivering lightly, out of your control, and you don’t want to open your eyes. David’s gentle laugh against your skin wills them apart though. His face is damp and red, hair standing up at all ends. He tilts his head up to look at you, hands caressing your sides. The lazy smile on his face makes your entire being throb.

“See, I’m all for you passing out like that,” he sassed, moving off your body to lay next to you, “That was hot as fuck.” He’s tucking you hair back to give way to your neck, leaning in to lay one loving kiss that makes you shudder. He weakly moans out, “So fucking sensitive,” and buries his head in your neck to fully mouth at the skin, pulling shiver after shiver out of you.

He tears himself away after a few moments, looking like he’s using all his will to not dive back in, as he settles back against the pillow next to you. You can’t help sitting up and reaching down to the front of his jeans. He’s hard against his zipper, but he swats your hand away, like earlier.

“No, but don’t worry. I’ll let you take care of that later, baby girl,” he grunts, sounding firm yet unsure. You just want to taste him though, you want to disobey him and swallow him whole. He glances over, smirk across his features, and brings his hand to caress your cheek. “You did so good for me, sweet girl. I’ll let you taste me later, okay?”

You nod submissively with a pout on your face. You don’t plan on letting him forget that.

His hand moves down to trace the bruise on your throat. You hadn’t seen it in a while, it’s probably still mostly black with blue bleeding into the edges. His fingers press into it, applying just enough force that pain lightly blossoms, and you moan. Your eyes slip closed and you fucking moan.

There’s silence when you drag your eyes open, embarrassment flooding your face when you notice his wide, hungry eyes going back and forth from your gaze to your neck. David looks wrecked, laying on your bed, discovering the pain from bruises gets you off. You can see the gears turning in his head as a maniacal grin takes over his face.

He’s sitting up, pulling you into his lap, when he remarks, “Oh, oh no. Does baby girl get off to the marks I leave her with? What am I going to do with you?”

You don’t know the answer to that, but you’re excited to find out.

—- x —-

Part One — Part Two — Part Three — Part Five

#david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik smut #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik #david dobrik fanfiction #vlog squad imagine

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