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He’s radiating so much happiness ✨
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Patience / David Dobrik Smut
warning: this is rated R. real icky stuff, pals. adults only!!! pff
summary: the main character’s boyfriend is David Dobrik and they’re in love n stuff. it’s fun
word count: 4,020
enjoy!!! <3
Patience is a lovely virtue. What a wonderful, gratifying, ethical thing to practice. Yes, I'm sure that knowing the ethics and the merit of this manner is probably all well and good enough to make a lot of people find it within themselves to just generally suck it up and friggin' wait for things; however, this is a method that I definitely have yet to master. In fact, I'm quite certain that I am going to need a lot more practice. I am just so fucking bad at handling anticipation. Sometimes I find the grip of apprehension to be so unbearably tight that I just give way to the tension and collapse under the pressure.
It's around 1a.m. when I have exhausted all the apps on my phone, and I decide that I don't want to be alone in this big, lonely bed anymore. It's actually only been about 20 minutes since I came in here, but it feels like it's been a lot longer. Perhaps that's because I am finding it very difficult to stop thinking about that boy who is in the other room, just a short journey away from me. He is just as alone as I am right now, and I am almost certain that he must be thinking about me too. The thought of him is definitely a very hard thought to ignore, especially when it is so dang easy to just go walk out and see him. Nothing is holding me back. I get out of bed and quietly tiptoe my way into the living room.
And there he is - David Dobrik. The love of my life. Still laying there on the couch in his favourite position; the same position that he had been in when I had announced that I was heading to bed less than half an hour ago. His legs are stretched out across the cushions in front of him, his head is propped up with a pillow behind his neck, and his laptop is resting on his chest. He must be comfy, but I'm pretty sure that this scrunched up way he always lays when he edits is really bad for his back. But he gets annoyed when I remind him of this, and at this point I've learned to just keep it to myself. I don't have the best posture either.
Maybe he hasn't noticed that I'm standing here yet. Perhaps he is far too immersed in his work; his laptop speakers are blasting choppy bits and pieces of noise, various voices, music, and loud laughter, and his fingers are clicking and swiping away at the mousepad, organizing all of the clips and sounds to fit that finished puzzle he has in his vision. His brown hair is a dishevelled, fluffy mess, and his brow is furled as he concentrates on the screen in front of him. I love the way that he looks when he's focused. When he's creating that thing that invigorates him and lights the fire his under his ass. I can practically see that blazing ball of passion glowing brightly behind his eyes as he works. It's so strong; so much so that it's as though I can actually feel it energizing the air around him and flowing all throughout the room. It cascades over me and lingers on my skin, sending excited chills up my spine; this fire he kindles has long since ignited a bright spark somewhere deep inside of me. I've felt these torrid flames for some time now, and they only seem to be growing more and more radiant as each moment with him passes. I'm in love with that great intensity that lives inside of David's heart. I love to be around it; I love feeling it. It is fucking intoxicating. I would blissfully soak in it forever if I could; but ironically, that blazing motivation that he possesses makes him a little bit unavailable at times...
I softly and slowly start to move closer to the couch; closer to David. I'm trying to be as dainty with my movements as possible; a part of me is hoping that he won't notice me. I'm having an internal debate about whether or not I should try and scare him, but my heart really doesn't want to disrupt him like that when he is clearly so in the zone (even though the prick has absolutely no problem scaring the absolute shit out of me and everyone else he loves). The soft spot I've grown for him can perhaps be a little bit too soft sometimes.
I'm right next to him now, but I've decided not to scare him. I'm just standing here trying to figure out how to gently announce myself without giving him a start, but before I can think of it he is already looking at me. He doesn't really jump at all, but his eyebrows raise in a surprised fashion.
"Fuck! When did you get there? You creep, Jesus Christ." A flush of warmth washes over me. Awe. Shit. I missed his voice. It sounds so tender and homey to me. Even though his words are calling me a creep... every sound still manages to flutter my heart. I grin at him.
"You should really work on those peripherals, bud. If I was an assassin sent here to kill you I bet I could have easily just taken you out." He rolls his eyes at me, but he's smiling. I continue. "Dave, seriously, one swift lunge at you and I'd have my arm right around your neck and then just fuckin'-" I make a menacing *crack* sound. He's just smirking at me. It's that smirk that he does; the annoyingly sexy one. He knows that if I let go of my composure for too long, that captivating smirk has the potential of making me a blushy, flustered fawn of a woman; I'd become putty in those (probably already sweaty) palms of his. But now, I keep myself firm and I squeeze onto that composure as tightly as I can. No way am I going to give him the upper hand here, as he always seems to manage to have. I'm feeling powerful tonight.
"Oh, yeah? How are you gonna manage that with those noodle arms?" He mocks me. I scoff at his honesty and pretend to be offended for a moment. But, I cave. My arms are, in fact, quite noodly.
"Fine, okay, fair enough. But ... You fucking love pasta." He makes a deep humming sound and pauses for a moment. I can sense that he is beginning to fully take in my presence. His eyes are moving down my body, and although he is good at keeping his gaze languid and lazy, I can feel his flames turn that special shade that they only become when he's around me. He likes to play coy and act like I don't have the effect on him that I do; he likes to be in control. Or, he likes to seem in control. But, I know that underneath all that strongly painted bravado, David actually loves the submissive way that I can make him feel. In his life of constant domination and authority, he fucking craves it.
While it's quiet, I sit down on the couch in front of him, placing myself right over his stretched out legs. He exhales audibly (do I sense a hint of frustration?) and he turns his eyes back to his laptop screen.
"Honestly, baby, I knew you were there the whole time," he smugly informs me. The ghost of that fucking smirk is still lingering over his lips. "I just wanted you to give you a bit of hope... You know you can't sneak up on me." I giggle a little bit.
"Right, of course, David. Of course you knew the whole time. Because that means that, technically... You were the one sneaking up on me... Right? Because you were being the sneaky one in choosing not to notice my sneakiness."
"Uh, not "your sneakiness". Your attempted and failed sneakiness," he cockily corrects me. "And yeah, it's funny how I always win no matter what, huh?" This was all apart of his act. He knows full well that when we're together, we both always win no matter what. He just likes to tease me, and he knows that I fucking love it. He knows that I can tease him back just as indomitably.
"When you win, I win. We're on the same team, baby. I'm rooting for you." This makes him make eye contact with me again for a moment, and we share a deep, knowing gaze; I feel a pang of heat inside of me and it's as if I can actually see that pang glow behind his eyes. He's blushing. Yes, he can play "manly" and domineering all he wants, but it's obvious how he really feels; I can make him just as flustered as he makes me.
"I'm happy to have your noods on my team," he cracks. I laugh and then I lift my arms up into a flex.
"What, these sexy things?" Raising my arms makes my pink, cropped "CLICKBAIT" hoodie lift up and reveal a hint of my breasts, and David definitely notices. How could he not? I've got nothing else on but these tight, hip-hugging, matching pink shorts. I am definitely creating a view that David could really get (all up) into, but it's clear that he wants to hold back his passion for me right now. It's already a few hours into Saturday and people are expecting a new video. David is not one to enjoy letting people (or himself) down. So, he keeps a hold on his composure, while I let my hands fall down onto his legs. "I guess I understand why you're happy..." I say as I let my fingertips lightly drag up his plaid pajama bottoms. He has a boner. He does that a lot. The connection we share can have him hard as a rock within seconds of even the smallest notion of something sexual between us. I absolutely love it, but he can find it quite annoying at times.
"Okay, seriously, baby... Please stop... Please," he begs, and as he says this I notice his cock stir. Ironically, it really turns both of us on when one of us tries to deny our obvious, intense sexual tension. There is really no hiding it; this feeling is powerful as fuck. "I told you I was coming to bed soon, just please wait until I'm finished." I move my hands away from him and I sigh and pout. He's trying not to look at me, but I see him make a couple glances. Of course, he's still smirking a slight bit. Often when he acts like he's pushing away our sexuality, he's really hoping that I keep trying to convince him. And I always do.
"The vlog isn't gonna suck your cock, Dave." He lets out a loud laugh and covers his flushed face with his hand.
"Baby, fuck off, I'm serious! Shut your pretty little mouth." I'm blushing now.
"Shut my pretty little mouth where? Around that hard cock you've got there?"
He chuckles darkly and looks right at me, his eyes fervent. "You better stop," he sternly tells me. I see right through it.
"What if I don't?" I taunt. He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head.
"You better stop." He managed an air of authority there that made my pussy pulse a little bit. What can I say: I love it when he tells me what to do. And I love seeing what he does when I don't do what he says even more...
"Okay, fine." I move off of his legs and crawl a few feet over to the other side of the couch. He huffs and goes back to editing, trying his hardest not to pay attention to me. I'm facing him, mirroring his position, watching him work again. He's much more unhinged than he'd been earlier; he's having trouble breathing normally and there is a vein bulging on his neck. His face is still red, and I'm certain that his palms must be very sweaty by now. I gradually move my stare down the curves of his neck, down his t-shirt covered chest and stomach... his cock is still hard. I can see the outline of it bulging through the thin fabric of his pajamas. That thick, beautiful cock that I've come to love so much. I'm finding it hard not to stare... not to trace along the imprint with my heated gaze; not to notice how tense my surely soaked pussy has been feeling and how that feeling is building with every passing second... and I can tell that he's finding it hard not to think about this as well, because as I'm letting these naughty thoughts pass through my head, the blush on his cheeks deepens.
I can't help it. I'm picturing him naked; I'm thinking about what that lovely cock looks like beneath that fabric. I'm thinking about how hard I've made him, and about how firm he would feel if my hand was wrapped around his shaft. I love that look he gets on his face when I push my tongue out of my mouth and I slowly lean in, my eyes watching his carefully as I finally let the soft, warm wetness touch the smooth head of his cock... he tends to make sounds as well. Little, gaspy types of sounds. Sometimes they're almost accusatory as if he's scolding me for being such a cock-sucking little slut. But, he's never really scolding me... he feels blessed to have such an absolute thot be so madly in love with him.
I'm breathing heavily now, and I keep sighing exasperatedly. Fantasizing about David is a dangerous game to play... it's often too much for me to handle; my pussy practically starts screaming. And I know that he can hear it... even though he's acting like he can't. He can't hide his true feelings with me; I know how badly he wants to just toss his laptop aside and come clamber on top of me. And knowing how badly he wants it, but watching him pretend like he doesn't... it only turns me on even more.
I'm thinking about his fingers now... swiping away on that mousepad. It's wild to me how he can use that laptop pad to edit and not have to use a regular mouse... it (like most things he does) can make my pussy go nuts. Thinking about his fingertip swiftly gliding back and forth across that smooth surface, occasionally pressing it inward... this can definitely become an overwhelming thought.
As I let myself fall further into my imagination, I bring my hands toward my body and I start to graze my own fingertips along my bare thighs. I tickle them for a few moments, listening to the sounds of David editing and watching the intensity on his face; bringing my gaze lower and admiring his jawline; even lower to watch the way the delicate parts of his neck move as he swallows and tenses up. Basking in the heat I'm feeling, I gradually move my hands upward to brush over my exposed stomach; very lightly, and tantalizingly slow. I revel in the sensations and the excitement as I come into a decision that has me giddy with foretaste. I get into a better position, getting comfy against a pillow behind me and then I spread open my legs as wide as I can. My one leg gets pushed against the back of the couch, and my other foot is placed over on the floor. My movement catches a glance from David, and then he does a well-deserved doubletake, his eyebrows shooting up.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He asks, but I'm pretty sure he knows what I'm doing. I can tell that he's trying to act shocked and agitated, but he just can't seem to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up.
"I'm getting comfy," I say matter-of-factly. And then I pull my sweater up over my breasts. He fully grins at me.
"You fucking slut..." he's watching me intently, a madcap look behind his eyes. He's already slightly moving his laptop to the side. I giggle and I bring my hands up to start massaging my boobs for his viewing pleasure.
"Your fucking slut," I correct him.
"Oh, fuck you," he says hoarsely before biting his lip. His brows furl as he watches me pinch and tug at my nipples.
"Oh, fuck me? Please?" I lower my right hand between my legs and I run it's fingertips across the inside of my thigh, slowly leading them over to my fabric-covered pussy. The tension has me already grinding my hips back and forth against my shorts, in desperate need of friction. David makes a noise that falls between a huff and a groan, and he puts his laptop on the floor.
"You're just my fucking desperate, sexy, little slut, aren't you?" He makes a move to come towards me, but I have other plans.
"Stop." He stops. "You stay over there." He makes a face - slightly dismayed, but clearly elated and excited to see what happens next. He gets comfy on the other side of the couch.
"You make me stop working and now you won't even let me touch you?"
"Hey, I didn't make you do anything, Dave. You're the one that put down the laptop." I brush my fingers over my clit and a rush of thrill runs through me. It makes my eyes close and my lips part involuntarily, and I make a small sound.
"You bitch," he says, his tone low and kind of whiney. I giggle again, and I rub myself in circles over my shorts, opening my eyes and looking right at him as I start to immerse myself in the pleasure. He stares back at me, slowly shaking his head with his eyes narrowed. "Does that feel good, you fucking tease?" I immediately start nodding and bite my lip as I moan a little bit. We're both blushing profusely. He's breathing almost just as heavily as I am, and he can't seem to sit still. He keeps switching his gaze between my eyes and my hand, and every time we make eye contact there is a hitch in both of our breath. I moan again and he is looking more and more desperate by the second. He keeps fidgeting; grabbing at his pants, touching his neck, running a hand roughly through his hair... And when I bring my legs together for a moment so that I can tug off my shorts (reveal that I am not wearing any panties) and toss them at his face with a giggle, he huffs yet another time and slumps himself into the couch, letting his arms fall limp at his sides and staring at me as I spread my legs for him again. I do it slowly because the suspense is always important. He gazes at my exposed pussy as if it's the holy grail. "Baby..." he says quietly, letting the word drag out a bit. I smile and nod.
"Yep-" I use both hands to open and expose myself even deeper. "That's where it would come out of." His wide grin is always priceless. He speaks, and his tone is downright giddy.
"That's where 'it' would cum into..."
I let out a "ha ha" at his pun, my eyes lingering on his as I start tracing my fingertips around my pussy. Not on my pussy... Not yet. Like I said: suspense is important. I'm tickling the delicate skin all around it, looking at David's reaction intently. He licks his lips and I watch as he brings his hand over his fabric-covered cock. He squeezes it, and as he does my pussy tightens, knowing he's about to retaliate.
"Look what you've done..." he scolds me. "Look how hard I am, baby." He squeezes it again, and then he pulls it out of his pants. My eyes widen, as they do every time I see that beautiful thing. What a perfect cock. Literally the perfect cock for me. I trace the curves of it with my eyes as I trace the curves of my pussy with my fingertips.
David wraps his palm around his shaft.
"You've started a war," he says as he slowly starts to rub himself. I grin and bite my lip.
"Yeah, well, I'm pretty confident in my army..." I run my pointer finger right down the middle of my pussy and my lips part with a small sigh.
David groans.
"Yeah, your fuckin... Your noodle army." Leave it to David to make me full out belly laugh while my fingers are on my vagina.
"Both noodle armies." I wave at him with both arms and then my left-hand finds one of my breasts and my right-hand goes back downtown. I tug at my nipple as I finally let my finger slip inside of me. Gently, though. Just a little dip and swirl. David goes nuts at even the slightest touch. I can see the sweat dripping down his glistening forehead.
What are you thinking about, huh, baby?" He asks me. I bite my bottom lip again and I crack a half-smirk.
"I'm thinking about you watching me..." I tell him. And it's true. The thought of him watching me in this kind of state is almost too much for me to handle. I have to keep teasing myself so that I don't cum too fast and ruin the show.
It's clear that David loves to hear that I think about him when I masturbate. The head of his cock is getting to be a strained, purplish colour, and the look on his face is priceless. I pump two fingers inside of me, and he sighs.
"You're a goddess," he says, matter-of-factly. I purse my lips and shrug my shoulders.
"Who, me? No, no... just a noodle." I slip my fingers out of myself and place them on the clit, rubbing in circles ever so softly. David speeds up his own assault on his cock.
"I'm a hard noodle." The strained look on his face... his eyes strained closed; his lips pursed in a light-hearted grimace. I can't help but giggle at him again. He's so cute and hilarious, especially when he's all horny and needy. I want to get on top of him so badly.
"We both love pasta," I whisper with a giddy grin. I can hardly take what I'm doing seriously with all this silliness that's going on. "You're making it hard to be sexy," I say. He goes, "Ha!"
"I can promise you, baby. I'm definitely hard and you're definitely sexy."
"You're sexy, too," I assure him. And he is, oh wow. I don't even know how to describe the intense feeling I get when I look at this boy; when I think about this boy. This passion... It could set the world on fire. The urges are astronomical.
David starts to shake his head. "What are we doing right now?" He asks. "Why are you not on top of me?" I smile.
"We're seeing who's gonna crack first."
"Oh, it's gonna be you," he informs me. "You make me lose focus and stop editing, you get the heck over here." I smile wider and shake my head.
"No. You thought editing is more important than giving the love of your life attention and now you realize how silly that is. Now, you come over here."
We both pause and contently watch each other in silence. We're both still touching ourselves, but only lightly. We're mostly just admiring each other; neither of us is really waiting for the other to come over. We're just content in the soft stillness right now, admiring the beauty of one another. There's no need for a fuss or a big desperate commotion. We are happy.
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