#dylandrhodes

[dylandrhodes]

Slightly modified from the smit prompts, but 'I want to count every one of your [moles] with my lips'. This is too perfect for Dylan, I can't. Excited to see where you might take it!

- Trashy 😍

@theinternetisfulloftrash Thank you love!

For you! of course, Got a little carried away with this one lol but hope yall enjoy

Warning? mildish? smut below the cut 😊😊

Count (Dylan O'brien)

You were not drunk.

You were not drunk, you were just blinking away doubled vision as you tried to focus on the form of your man beside you.

No, it wasn’t that you were drunk, it was just that Dylan had decided he wanted to make the spicy margaritas that were your favourite at your local dive.

He'd come home from the grocery hope that evening (usually something you'd do together, but his sole responsibility this week when you'd picked up over time and he wasn't currently filming).

Dylan's excited explanation, between soft kisses after he'd laid out his in haul in the kitchen, had been that your block of days off and his press commitments being done for a couple weeks was cause for celebration.

Trying to recreate them perfectly had turned into endless rounds of taste testing until the blender was a mess in the sink and you and Dylan were sat on the cool tiles kitchen floor, backs against the dishwasher as you nursed the melting ends of recipe 6.

The heat of the room was trapped in your pinked cheeks and your hand pushed up to lazily press the strand of hair back behind your eat that had fallen into your eyes.

You hummed at the cool feeling of your hand against your warmed skin and pressed your fingers to your cheeks before you slipped your fingers down to rest on your neck, felt the fluttering of your pulse thrumming heavy under your skin.

Your tongue darted out from your lips, licked them wet and felt them tingle with the mix of tequila and spice that lined the rim of the glass.

A soft laugh drew your eyes back to the man beside you, lids heavy as you traced his shape. His own glass was loose in his hand, looking small in the span of his fingers, the other handheld his phone, fingers moved as he most likely added to the playlist flowing through the home speakers.

The pair of you had taken to the floor when you'd found yourself stumbling over each other's feet as you tried to clean the mess from dinner. It had mostly comprised of getting distracted in each other, Dylan pulling you in to spin you around, singing along to the music playing through the speakers; kissing against the counter and arguing which round of drinks had been the closest to the original.

The light of the kitchen was low, a wash of warm orange light that made the cropped fuzz of Dylan’s hair glow, a fire outline of his shape. Your eyes dropped to caress the line of his jaw, the pink pout of lips, the sheen of them illuminated by the light of his phone.

The song changed and you dragged your legs up from where they had been sprawled in front of you, toes now pressed into the cool floor. You raised your hand to cup your jaw, smiled as you held up your heavy head to watch Dylan raise his glass up to his lips once more for a long sip, head tilted back just so.

His throat stretched, head tipped to show the line of his neck, the strong cords of muscle and the swell of his Adam's apple. The neck of his shirt was loose, a faded old black T-shirt that was a favourite of his, stolen from a movie set years past now. It was worn in a soft to the touch, smelt of Dylan and their washing powder always.

Your fingers dropped and smoothed against the bare skin of your thigh as you watched him, your knees bowed inward just so.

He looked strong like this, you thought, the width of his shoulders against the dishwasher, the thick line of throat the dip before the meeting point of his clavicles just visible, the way his hand consumed the circumference of the glass easily.

You swallowed and swayed as you set your glass down to the left of you before turning in to let your eyes more easily keep Dylan.

With a tilt of his head, the glow of the light streaming in from the windows changed, illuminated the constellation of moles that mapped the span from ear to lips. You shivered at the brush of heat on your thigh and your gaze flickered to find Dylan’s fingers, skimmed up and down the line of skin, a hazy touch that Dylan barely seemed aware of himself.

His phone was abandoned in his lap, the hand not on you still held the almost empty glass, head laid back against the dishwasher, eyes closed lashes casting a long shadow. He was humming, you realised after a breath, lost in the swell of music, seemingly content with the lazy flirt of skin on skin as his fingers danced pattern on your skin.

Heat breathed up your spine, fire from Dylan’s fingers to the inside of your thigh, up through to the base of your stomach, a kiss of butterflies under your ribs.

You sighed, and watched, and wanted, licked your lips and returned your eyes to the map on flushed skin, the sun kisses dark landmarks that drew your eyes to the line of his ear, jaw, throat, soft skin hot from alcohol.

A soft sound passed your lips as you turned in closer to Dylan, blinked once, twice until you blinked and your nose and lips and eyelashes had found Dylan’s cheek.

Your next blink was an incidental butterfly kiss before your lips pursed in a soft press, under the mole that you knew was there, larger than the others just a breath away from his lips.

Dylan’s long fingers paused, greedy with the skin of your right thigh, palm flattened and fingers curled to take grip, a light scratch of nails as he relaxed his fingers before he took hold once more.

You had lingered, and finally exhaled before you drew your mouth blindly to the trio of lighter freckles that bridged to the next mole just lips away from the hinge of his jaw. You kissed the skin, licked your lips of his taste before you kissed again, leaving a brush of wet skin behind.

Your arms grew restless in your own lap then, the heat of Dylan close, under your lips, the stillness of him as he let you kiss on him. His frame was warm and solid under you, his body rose and fell with his breaths, chest jostled you just so with the subtle movement. His breaths and his grip on your thigh were his only participation.

Your touch blindly found Dylan’s shoulder then, fingers sought the side of his neck, held him as your mouth found its next target, your favourite mole perfectly below his earlobe.

you found it with lips and then the bite of teeth, a deep inhale through your nose and you pressed closer, limbs heavy and melting where you held onto him.

Dylan seemed to come to life with the nip of your teeth against his skin, hands found your waist, a hot thrill pushed through your skin as he gripped. His head turned, met you with his nose bumping your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“What you up to baby?”

You shivered, his voice was a low husking whisper, and some silly part of you twisted with an ache of longing, you wanted him closer still just from the hum of his voice like you weren’t already skin to skin.

You huffed, frustrated as if Dylan had ruined your plans, sprung you in your scheme, as a traitorous blush swallowed your cheeks and nose and chin.

“Nothin” you replied, scratched your nails in a circle against his neck, went back to your focus, hoping that would keep him still a little longer.

You pulled back just far enough to bridge to the next mole on his neck, pressed three lingering kisses there before nuzzling in, unable to help but follow the smell of Dylan. It was warm and clean and boy washed with the alcohol he’d been drinking and a light sheen of sweat glowing on the back of his neck.

“Oh, you’re not trying something on with me?”

Dylan asked again, whole his body had gone warm and relaxed in your arms under the simple scratch of nails and presses of lips. quiet smirk on his lips.

Despite the way he’d melted into you, you could feel the curiosity in his hands on your frame, the way his fingers fidgeted, played with the thin fabric of your tee between his fingertips, twisting it up lazily till the cotton pulled tight against your skin.

You smirked at his words, unable to help yourself when a small bundle of giggles grew and burst from between your lips, shoulders shimmered with it as your hand gripped tighter to his neck. Your lips vibrated against the freckled skin you’d been kissing at as you smoothed your laughter.

“Don’t really have to try it do I Dyl, you’re kinda an easy drunk”

It's an easy tease, but you can’t help yourself, really because it was true and you both knew it.

“Oh” was the only breath of warning you got before his hold tightened on you, strong hands took a grip of your waist and he positioned you in his lap easily.

You let out a small whimper of defeat and pulled you away from your target once more.

“I’m an easy drunk?”

Dylan asked then, his hand moved to hold you under your chin, tilted your chin up to lock your eyes in his. His gaze was fire warm and his lids were low, lashes a dark smudged frame around dark brown.

“Big words for the girl who was copping a feel”

his voice was low, steady and deliberate and your lower stomach pulled with it, you kept his gaze until the room bent around you and your drink warmed body swayed, eyes pulled away.

“Was not copping a feel” You refuted and found yourself a nice place to rest your head, the warmth of Dylan’s shoulder under your cheek.

“Big talk, girl, big talk” Dylan’s laughter shook his chest and rocked you with it, one of his hands found your hair and his fingers skimmed the strands.

You pulled back with a sigh and shake your head, the motion heavy and you let out a fumbled laugh at the way your vision blurred.

“I wasn’t putting the moves on you Dyl”

You paused to try to find the right words that didn’t show your hand.

“I just, um decided that- well I was looking at you like your face and stuff” your hand waved vaguely in front of yourself as your tequila sweetened mind stumbled around your words.

“I decided I wanted to count all your moles with my lips, because we don’t know like the official count, I guess in case we needed that, like, information”

You trailed off and reached quickly to pick up Dylan’s cup, sipping at the last of the mostly melted icy drink.

You were only maybe half hiding behind the glass to hide the dark red of your cheeks, the realisation that what you said out loud was maybe a bit more embarrassing than just agreeing that you wanted to get handsy with him.

The sound of your own heart pounded full in your ears and you exhaled, felt your chest rise and fall with the movement. The room was filled only by the sound of Frank Ocean's voice rolling around you both, sweet, steady and low.

A bead of water dove from the base of the stemware, the condensation dripped onto the fabric of your tee just to the left of your breast, wet the fabric through as Dylan’s hand met yours to ease the glass out of your grip.

You shivered with it, the drop of cold water, the touch, the tequila at the bottom of the drink that burned a hot line down the centre of you.

“That’s mine” Dylan breathed, placed his lips on the glass where yours had been, took the very last few drops on his lips before he set it to the side with his eyes locked on yours, held in them a dark intention.

It was a smouldering gaze that drew the lines of you, the shape he knew so well under the tee and small sleep shorts you wore.

You suppressed a shiver, licked your lips and drew a small breath. The space between was hot, a wire line coiled between you that had you pressing your hips down subconsciously, your thighs widened and you felt your nipples tighten under the thin fabric of your shirt.

The tequila already had you spinning, skin hot, but it held nothing to the proximity of Dylan.

His hands found yours once more, thumbs and fingers circled your wrists and picked them up to place your palms flat against his chest. His fingers drew up the outside of your arms, thumb pressed in and smoothed over the taut muscles of your forearms.

The heat of his skin was thick even through the fabric of his t-shirt and your fingers pressed in, hungry for more of him, starving with the weight of Dylan’s eyes on you.

The brown of his eyes fell to your mouth then, lingered, but never pressed closer to follow through.

His silence and stillness were so unlike him, Dylan was all hands first followed by mouth lips and teeth and you ached for the familiar grip that usually accompanied that gaze, the pull of you into him over and over.

His hunger for you had never been so quiet.

You wanted to know what he thought, wanted his reaction, wanted him to follow through in the promises his eyes were making.

You pressed closer, a drag of your hips down, Dylan’s sweats bunched with the movement under your thighs, pulled your lower back in, arse pushing back.

The man underneath you didn't respond in like, didn’t find the cradle of your hips with his own, no pressure to the hottest part of you.

“Dylan”

“Yes baby” he answered unhurried, words diligent from his tongue.

You watched his face, calm and expressionless as he regarded you, a glow of softness under his eyes and a wash of deep red in the hollows below his cheek bones that held you in his want.

“Dylan?” you repeat, a whisper this time, a question, the only word you could find in your mouth.

“Yes baby?” he whispered back, voice earnest.

He swallowed and you watched, he wet his lips and let his eyes undress you once more in a slow pour of his brown eyes.

He shrugged, hands finally moving to take you in them once more, found your thighs and followed them up to the hinge of your hips, kept going until he pushed up under the fabric of your t-shirt to place his hands against soft skin.

“You want to count, then count baby”

The gentle command made sweat bead at the low of your back, lids felt heavy with it, and you felt as the pulses in your wrist thundered.

He smirked then, easy and warm and your body tightened, your fingers wound up in his shirt and you leaned in just so, eyes watched the easy rise and fall of Dylan’s chest, his slow breaths as he watched you, leant back and waiting.

“Don’t get shy on me now, got a lot of ground to cover haven’t you?”

Dylan muttered when you didn’t react, his thumb drew lazy circles on your skin and licked his lips.

You sighed, and really, Dylan didn’t ever really need to ask, to invite you to his body because you always wanted, and he knew that.

But something about him lying in wait for your touch, so casual in his command, the way he watched you with a lazy intimacy made the low of your gut twist with a kick of a thrill; something low and dirty that thrummed a heartbeat between your legs.

Your knees drew in from where they were tucked on either side of Dylan’s wide frame, you tightened around nothing with the movement, only a tease of Dylan's fingers at your hips. Heat bloomed through your core as you willed his touch to push closer.

“Guess so” you agreed.

Dylan smelt ever so faintly like the cigarette he suck a few hours ago and you want to be wrapped up in it, woven to him like the lingering scent.

Your lips found the corner of his jaw, the predominant mole you know well and you mouthed at it. The man's large fingers cripped at your body with the contact, and you placed small kisses to cover it and the smatter of smaller freckles that marked the skin like a spin out of stars framing its moon.

Your arms twined around Dylan’s neck, leveraged yourself to tilt down into the seat of his lap, closer until your chest was pressed to the muscle of his, your breasts tight to his body. A deep breath shifted his chest against you, a brush over your pebbled nipples that made your lips part.

“One”

You whispered under your breath, exhaled over the line of Dylan’s neck as you felt the rock of his hips underneath you finally, a press of growing hardness to the centre of you, hot even through the layers of fabric that pulled with each lazy grind.

“One”

Dylan muttered back to you, and between heavy breaths, his hand found you, the low of your stomach, skimmed down with a feather touch to trace the seam of your shorts.

The touch was barely there and your back arched to take more of it, to feel the pressure that was anchoring your body pressed to where you wanted it.

“Ah” Dylan breathed and his other hand found the back of your neck then, slid up into your hair and gripped, drew your face to the side of his throat.

“Count” He mumbled, his finger still tracing the seamed line of your soft shorts, just a breath away from what you wanted. needed. You shivered, ached, and your head spun with it.

“Two” you whispered into his skin, the single word a beg, teeth grazed the mole, turning the surrounding skin red.

Dylan nodded and his single finger became two pressed against you. He slid his hand down so that his palm was in line with the heartbeat of your pussy at its peak, fingertips laying at the spot where your panties had started to dampen with your want.

You nodded, understanding his game and clenched your thighs to keep still, to be good.

“There we go, my clever baby”

Dylan praised, a smile in his words and you flushed, would have rolled your eyes if it wasn’t for the tequila that had washed away your usual initial resistance that came with Dylan’s blatant praising of you, of just how much you liked it.

“Just need to count as many as you want”

Dylan whispered to you like a secret, the love in his words made your next breath catch, stutter.

He pressed the pad of his fingers up just enough that the pressure, the promise of it made you gasp into his shoulder, as your body throbbed with it. Your fingers twisted in the waist of his sweats.

“Count”

Dylan encouraged you again and you nodded, eyes closed as your lifted your heavy head to find the sun mark closest to his lips, pressed a kiss over it.

“Three”

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

The hand on the throat was Dylan’s decision and his decision alone you can’t change my mind and I am SO unwell over it

Dylan is HANDSY

Agreed. Change my mind while you're at it. HAHA! I mean... I'm not opposed to a little light choking, in fact, it's encouraged ;)

I know that this scene was highly planned (from what they said about production and intimacy coordinators), and whose input was whose is something will never really know for sure, but... I would tend to agree. Yep.

GIF by wiha-jun

[fivelakesinwriting]

LoveD the fic 🔥 riding Dyl yes pls thank YOU

AH! You're welcome! And thank YOU for the love! Xoxo

I would definitely like to dominate him, just a little. Promise he can play afterwards ;) loool

[wildflowerdylan]

WILDFLOWERDYLAN'S REC LIST

DYLAN O’BRIEN

L.I.E. (Love Is Easy) by @brien-odylan

Unable to Keep It by @fanficstookover

Complex by @uh-oh-kenzieiswriting

The Summer Fling by @were-cheetah-stiles

Role Play by @sugarcoatedjj

Coach by @that-sarcastic-writer

Wrong Loves My Company by @stilinski-jpeg

Far From L.A. by @theinternetisfulloftrash

Where to Belong by @7thleveldown

That Suit by @7thleveldown

Collision Course Coachella by @theinternetisfulloftrash

Like Blood and a Lemon by @dylandrhodes

Special Occasions by @theinternetisfulloftrash

STILES STILINSKI (Teen Wolf)

tie cherry stems with my tongue by @voidyllic

hey stupid, i love you by @pvre-angel

Sleepover by @the-writing-adventures-of-mouse

Sleepless Nights by @the-writing-adventures-of-mouse

take care of yourself by @spiderwcd

Strictly Professional by @teenwolffanclub-meI only bought this dress so you could take it off by @sourcherryandsprinkles

Addicted by @writingsbychlo

Oops... my bad by @ihavesimpedovermanyfictionalmen

Green-Eyed Monster by @multiversehearts

Were you just touching yourself? by @twjournals

To Fall for a Friend by @aristrocratocrat

Pretty Boy by @velvetcloxds

Why couldn’t it be me? by @i-smell-racism

THOMAS (Maze Runner Series)

Forever Love by @dobrienwrites

MITCH RAPP (American Assassin)

Good Girl by @amesstilinski

Welcome Home by @solarstiles

The Recruit by @were-cheetah-stiles

SAM TAYLOR (Amazing Stories)

Heart Under Construction by @writingsbychlo

JOEL DAWSON (Love and Monsters)

Cheating Death by @dobrienwrites

FRED FITZELL (The Education of Fredrick Fitzell)

Coming Soon…

RICHIE BOYLE (The Outfit)

Coming Soon…

[obriengf]

stuck between the captions: “among royalty” and “the four horsemen of the apocalypse” 

@theinternetisfulloftrash @dobshands @dylandrhodes​ @slutobrien​

[jin0]

I think you might have blocked me? On accident I hope? @dylandrhodes x

yes you're unblocked now

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Dylan’s sweatshirt and sweatpants collection,,,, perfect for his girl to steal and wear and you know he loves a girl in comfy clothes cause that’s how he is most comfortable too ugh

Ohhh!

How cozy would that beeeee!? I wonder if he'd think it was cute at first, you all bundled up in his sweats, but then one day he finds some of his clothes folded up in your drawers...

"The hell is this?" he says, holding up a pair of his folded joggers.

"What?" you ask, only offering him the briefest of sideways glances.

"You laying claim to my clothes now?"

His words draw a smirk from you. "They look better on me..." you tease.

He huffs out a little laugh, his lip drawn up in that lazy, lopsided smile. "Do they, now?"

You consider his question. "No. Not really." How could they?

"Oh, I don't know..." he says, his voice as slick as oil, "they might..."

"You think?"

"Mmm... maybe..." he drops his joggers on the end of the bed and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into him, "but I think nothing at all looks even better."

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Ok but speaking of dick sucking, tipsy sun warm Dylan horny, he’s handsy but he’s not asking for what he wants. Eventually he drags you away to a private section and it’s dark and he kinda just pulls you in, asking silently as he places his fingers on your lips and puts your hand on the bulge in his sweats….

Uhhhhh...

Pardon me while I plagiarize this bit real quick... *licks pen, lowers glasses, makes notes*

I think dylandrhodes also wants me to have IDEAS going in to writing THIS Coachella smut too... LORD. You guys are ALL thirsty as hell and I love it!

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Drunk pink flushed cheeks dancing away happily in the crowd with head tipped back, singing and grinding on his friends, drink in hand his other hand touching his own chest and body bye…..

Oh my God... WHY!?!?

I can't. I may have to process this by writing Coachella smut, and that'll be his (and your) fault. For FUK'S sake.

dylandrhodes is torturing me with Coachella imagines because of THIS bullshit.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

The pinky ring- pls

Gnnnnhhhh!!!

Dude... I can't. I just can't. There's so much goodness.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Goods From the Dumpster

Okay, I really do my best to keep up with asks, I promise, but I don't get around to them all. I want you guys to know that I'm not actively ignoring certain messages because they aren't funny or worth posting, sometimes I just get a little flustered and overwhelmed.

Please know that I love you guys and I appreciate all the inbox love. Your asks make me laugh every day. While each one of the following asks is entirely deserving of its own individual reply, I feel like hoarding these gems in my inbox any longer is a disservice to the fandom. Please enjoy a taste of what I've collected in my dumpster :)

I've put more below the cut to keep this from being a long post on dash <3

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Ok coming at you with an alternate smoking Dylan headcanon- he doesn’t smoke too often right like maybe after a few drinks but you come to realise Dyl often smokes as an outlet when he isn’t getting it. Maybe he’s away filming, or both of you are far too busy at work to be having time together that you want but you always knew Dyl was sexually pent up when his smokes went from once or twice a week to a few a day

... WELP! 

That is just... too real!? I think that smoking more under stress is TOTALLY a thing, so I’d imagine sexual frustration could easily be an extension of that. 

The sexual tension litmus test. He’s chain smokin’ again... looks like I’ve been skirting my duties *gets down on hands and knees* ;) The whole ‘away filming’ thing really gets at me. 

He facetimes you and you see the pack on his nightstand in the background. You ask him about it and he doesn’t lie. You feel so bad because there’s only so much you can do so far away, but it’s not going to stop you from trying. Phone sex is better than no sex, and that’s just facts. 

dylandrhodes is furthering discussion from THIS post, and I’m HERE for it. 

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Listen this is unhinged ok but I’ve had 2 wines and all I can think about is blowing Dylan and not swallowing, instead making him cum on his tummy all over his treasure trail….

This is as hinged as hinged could be...

WHAT DO YOU MEAN? That sounds delightful. Listen, as a load enthusiast, I don't like to waste, but sometimes it's fun to make a little bit of a mess ;)

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Hello...it's couch writing anon here, I guess if its easier to give myself a name here to make it less confusing, haha I can go by L here I guess. Anyway! I made myself a little tumblr haha and I will see how this goes but Hi lovely 🥰

Eyyyyyy!!!!!

That's awesome! I dropped a follow and I can't wait to see what other goodness you get up to over there! Weeeeeee!

I hope you get endless support and love for the quality content you're sure to make!!

Couch drabble anon is officially @dylandrhodes and you guys should all drop a follow! I'm so excited for more stuff like THIS!

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Thank you for reblogging 🥺 I really hope you liked it/ I did your request justice 😊💗

I LOVED ITTTT!!

Of course I reblogged!!! Thank you for writing it for me! I can't wait to see more goodies from you. Never enough delicious Dylan content. I'm an insatiable little monster always looking for a tasty morsel, and yours was delectable.

dylandrhodes is referring to my reblog of the little fic they wrote for a prompt I sent in. You can read it HERE, and you realllllly should ;)

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

I'm almost done the prompt you sent love! Hopefully will be posting it soon, Work was kicking my ass but I finally had some time to write ❤️❤️

That's awesome! There's no rush at all though. Whenever you get to it is totally cool. I feel you on the work thing. I too have been getting my ass handed to me the last two weeks. I'm upset about it 😖

Good luck with your writing session! I hope it's productive and wonderful!