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theinternetisfulloftrash · 2 years ago

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Hey!!

Can I request “are you wearing my shirt?” with Dylan? Please and thank you!

Love you xx

You've waited a long time for this...

SO YES, I most certainly can! This sounds like fun :) MUCH LOVE!

Authors Note: Cliche? Maybe. But some lines are classic. Sue me. But like, don't? Litigation is expensive ;) p.s. smut... p.p.s. x female reader.

Prompt list HERE, but currently closed. This prompt is like a year old :/

Better on the Floor

Exhausted would be putting it mildly. You'd had a long week and the fact that it was only Wednesday wasn't helping. When you got home, you kicked out of your shoes, stretching out your aching toes as you stripped out of your stiflingly uncomfortable clothes, wandering your way slowly down the hall toward the bedroom. You peeled off your underwear and tossed them in the hamper before you padded into the bathroom to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. You watched the water pool in the palm of your hand, running out between the gaps of your fingers until it was just this side of scalding before you plugged the tub.

You stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam and then pulled open the drawer of the vanity to grab a bath bomb. You watched impatiently as the bath slowly filled before tossing the little ball of Epsom salt into the water, watching it fizz for a few moments before you followed after and slid into the water.

You could almost feel the muscles of your back sigh in relief as the warmth washed over them, drawing out at least some of the tension that had been locking them in place for days. You relaxed against the slope of the bath, letting your neck roll against the soft bath cushion for a few minutes. Enjoying the silence long enough to feel human again before you flicked the water from your hands and reached down to grab your phone from the bathmat.

Your discover playlist on Spotify was something you liked to try to fit in during the week because you always liked finding something new, and you hadn't had a chance yet this week. Now seemed as good a time as any. You tapped to play and then set your phone down on the edge of the bath. You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed before the music faded out to an incoming notification, but when you swiped to view the text, your fingers were wrinkled and pale from the soak.

Dylan: So... I'm outside... and I'm an idiot

You smiled and shook your head before your smile turned to more of a smirk. You sat up a bit in the bath, shaking the water off your other hand so you could reply.

You: Alright. I'm intrigued.

Dyan: I might have...maybe...possibly left my keys in my trailer

You: How'd you get home?

Dylan: Fob wasn't on my key ring after I had it detailed

Dylan: Come let me in? I feel like a creep lurking out here

You: One sec

This was exactly like him, and it only made you love him more. You smiled as you stepped out of the bath and quickly toweled dry with one that was a bit smaller than you'd like if you were going to the door, so you snatched his bundled t-shirt off the counter and pulled it on before you rushed to the front door and unlocked it.

"Hey," he said with a smile when you opened the door.

"Hey," you replied, reaching out your hand to take his. You pulled him inside and into a tight hug, standing up on the tips of your toes and locking your arms together around his neck.

He gently kicked the door closed behind him and locked the deadbolt before he fully hugged you back, squeezing you tight around the waist and sighing into the damp hair at the nape of your neck.

"Oh no... you were in the bath, weren't you?" He pulled back and cupped your cheek in his palm. "Sorry, baby."

"'S'okay..." you hummed, nuzzling into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his palm on your cheek.

"You must have been so cozy in there..." He admired you for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his gaze roamed down over your body.

You smiled, blushing at his attention.

"You look pretty comfy now though..." he said softly, pausing for a moment before he continued. "Is that...are you wearing my shirt?"

"Mhm..." you hummed, swaying slightly in his arms.

His eyes continued roaming, his hands following the trail they blazed until they were toying with the hem of it that was skirting across your upper thighs.

The skimming touch of his fingertips on your skin lit it with goosebumps. "It looks better on me..." you lied.

"Maybe..." he chuckled softly, pulling his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before his eyes met yours again, "but it'd look even better on the floor."

Did it matter that it was a line if ever you'd heard one? Not even slightly. It still sent a filthy little shiver down your spine. It didn't help that he'd leaned in and was peppering the side of your throat with wet little kisses as he walked you backward until you were pressed to the wall of the entryway.

He kissed you hard, his hands pinning your shoulders to the wall before they slid down your body and pulled his shirt up over it. He tossed it on the floor and then leaned in again, his nose brushing against yours before he whispered in your ear.

"See?" he breathed, his lips wet on your skin. His fingertips ghosted along your skin until one palm settled on your chest, the other on your ass.

You didn't see a damn thing except for little stars, but he'd more than made his point. You punched out an abrupt panted breath at the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipple before he sealed his lips to yours and swallowed down the little moan he pulled from you.

He kissed you until you were breathless, and in the brief reprieve he offered—mouthing along your jawline and driving you wild with the little grazes of his teeth—you managed to draw in a ragged enough lung full of air to keep from passing out.

You were pretty sure you'd collapse if he wasn't holding you in place. His touch, his admiration of your body, it had you forgetting just how awful you'd been feeling just an hour ago. Turns out? A hot bath and a fine-ass man putting his hands all over you are the curealls for just about everything. Who knew.

"Missed you..." he hummed against the thin skin that covered your collarbone.

Your head fell back against the wall.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you..." he said before he kissed his way to the dip at the base of your throat. "Took a shower on my break..."

You looked down at him, at his hand that was clasped to your upper arm, those beautiful veins painting across the tendons that flexed at his grip. His dark hair smelled of his shampoo.

"Had me so riled up I had hide in there and beat off just so I could be seen in fucking public."

It made you immeasurably happy that he was still infatuated enough with you that he was capable of expressing the laughably pathetic self-control of a hormone-addled teen. Your cheeks flushed and a little chuckle shook your chest.

"I deserve that..." He smiled against your skin, before he pulled back from you, his eyes locking with yours. "But I mean..." his gaze flicked down your body before his hand that had been nestled into the dip of your waist slipped down between the two of you until he was cupping the warmth of your core in his hand. "Can you blame me?"

"Fuck."

Now he was the one chuckling, but it quickly faded, his expression shifting from sly to sultry when his fingers slipped inside of you.

You groaned, your head falling forward to his clothed shoulder. You gripped the fabric of his shirt, stretching out the neck enough to expose some skin for you to latch onto with a nipping little bite.

He winced, sucking in a quick breath before he distracted you from your mission to mark your territory with a curl of his fingers inside you.

"Oh— Shit!" you gasped, panting into the cotton of his shirt until it was damp with your desperate breaths.

"That feel good?" he asked, even though the way you were squeezing his fingers had to be answer enough.

You nodded against his chest before he used the curled index finger on his free hand to lift your chin.

"Good," he said before he leaned in and kissed you.

His soft lips felt incredible, the flavour mint on his breath mixed with the faintest hint of tobacco, the combination had become something uniquely 'him' to you. It made your head spin. So, when his tongue begged to be let in to play with yours, you were happy to oblige.

You let him work you over until you could feel that little buzz building up inside you, that tingling hint that—with just a little more effort, one more precise little motion—he'd have you cumming before he was even out of his shoes, and that hardly seemed acceptable.

Breaking your kiss, you pulled away from his chasing lips, knowing you must look absolutely wrecked, and then you gripped him through his pants.

He tossed his head back and practically growled at your touch, his fingers stilling for only a moment before his eyes met yours once more with a fierce, fiery need. He shoved your hand aside and ripped open the zipper of his jeans and shoved your hand into his boxers.

"That's what you do to me..." he said, rutting into your palm, matching his pace with his fingers inside you as he kicked out of his sneakers.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off him, tossing it against the wall behind him. "Take those off..." you said, flicking your gaze down his body at his pants, flexing your wrist inside his boxers.

He stepped out of his jeans and socks and then pressed you against the wall once more, rubbing his thigh against the back of his arm to apply a bit more pressure to the hand that was driving you insane.

"You close?" he asked, nosing your jawline and breathing against your skin.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat before you spoke. "Yes..."

He pressed his thumb against your clit and you gasped his name into his hair when his lips fell to your chest.

Just when you thought he was going to shove you off the edge, you felt his fingers slip free from you before he slid down onto his knees in front of you. His warm brown eyes looking up at you, his soft lips parted just inches from your skin. This was criminal. This was attempted murder in the first degree.

When his tongue teased over you, the flutter of his eyelashes was almost enough to get you off. It looked like he was taking a hit of a designer drug...getting high off you.

He moaned against your skin and his hands pinned your hips to the wall, gripping the soft skin under them tight enough that it stung. That tiny hint of pain only made all of it better.

Your hands tangled into his hair, drawing him closer to you. You sighed out his name and half-formed expletives as his tongue teased you back to that precipice he'd had you teetering over minutes earlier.

He sealed his lips around the singing little bundle of nerves and flicked his tongue, his beard teasing the sensitive skin, before he let his lips fall open and he lapped along the slick of you he'd made slicker with his skilled mouth.

You were trembling now, your fingernails scraping along the back of his neck now, your legs weak with the effort of holding yourself up when all you wanted to do was fall apart.

"Come for me..." he breathed before he sealed his lips again.

Demand? Request? It hardly fucking mattered, because before you could classify it as either you were doing it. You were calling out, grasping his shoulders and trembling against his hold on your hips.

He pulled back from you, wiping his mouth into the palm of his hand before he stood in front of you once more. "Mmm...." he hummed before you watched him stroke his length with his wet hand. "Love the way you sound when you're cussing my name..."

Fuck. He'd only just made you come and you felt a new little ember spark to life inside you just waiting to be stoked. Insatiable was putting it lightly. When he kissed you this time, you could taste what he'd done to you—how he'd just driven you wild—and you needed to make him feel just as good.

You stepped apart enough to make more space for him between your legs and pulled him toward you. "Need you..." you whispered against his lips.

"Need me to what?" he replied, kissing along your jawline to your ear before he lapped against your throat and sealed his lips to suck a little mark into your skin.

You bucked your hips against him, feeling his length slide through the mess he'd made of you. "To fuck me..."

The way he responded to those words never got old. You held them in reserve, generally choosing to be a touch more subtle. He practically growled, his head snapping back, his dark eyes trained on yours when his grip on you tightened.

You gasped when he hefted you up in front of him, lining himself up with you, locking your thighs around his hips before he pinned you to the wall so he could free one of his hands enough to lock one of your wrists up in it just above your head. Then he drove into you in a slow, firm thrust.

"Dylan!" you cried out before he kissed you again, grinding you back against the wall before he began a more predictable, yet tantalizing rhythm.

A perfectly good couch in the living room just steps away really, a bed down the hall that was plush and waiting, and yet here you were fucking against the wall a step inside the front door like a couple of rabid animals.

When he fucked you like this he never retreated, in this position he just rocked his body into yours. The pressure it provided just where you wanted it most was unmatched. It was incredible and intense. It quickly reminded you why the couch and the bed should be neglected from time to time. Variety is the spice of life, right? And this particular variety was delicious.

"Fuck, baby..." he moaned, his hand slipping from yours, his fingers gliding through your hair until they were tangled into it and he tugged it just enough to make you wince. "So good... so fucking tight..."

"Shit!" He was driving you fucking wild. Sometimes you wish you could take just a tiny day trip into his mind to see if you made him feel as unhinged as he did you. Hardly seemed possible, but the way he looked buried inside you? You could be tempted to believe there was a chance his infatuation could rival your own.

Your body was trembling again and you felt that familiar tug inside you, that welcomed warmth building. Desire and need beginning to fold to bliss and euphoria. Was he with you? Was he ready?

The stutter of his hips, the faltering of that perfect rhythm, they were signs that he was on the edge of his own release. His breath grew ragged, and his jaw clenched with the effort it was clearly taking him to hold it back.

You didn't want him to wait, he was ready and so were you. You leaned forward and kissed him, clenching around him as the final roll of his hips had you coming undone around him.

The soft rumble of the groan he let out into your mouth when you felt him spill inside you made every sensation feel all the more intoxicating. Moments like this were almost unfathomable. How did you end up here? Lucky enough to have this man panting against your chest? It was absurd really. Absolutely batshit.

After a few moments of shared giggles and coming back to reality, he picked the shirt you'd been wearing off the floor and handed it to you to slip back on.

He appraised you as you tugged the hem down over your body.

"What?" you asked, smoothing the new tangles in your hair.

"Nothin'..." he said with a shrug, pulling on his boxers. "Just nice being right."

You narrowed your eyes. "About?"

"Definitely better on the floor."

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien x reader #my first attempt at prompts!#trashy writing #better on the floor fic #is this a tired trope?#I mean... maybe #but some lines are just... ✨hot✨#so... forgive me for a bit of recycling #first new thing in a while #ENOJYYYY #kinda threw... *a lot* at this one

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