Hey bbys can you write a Dylan O'Brien smut where him and y/n are dating and they have to practice for a sex scene for their new movie but they don’t just verbally practice but physically do? If you can thank you but I’d understand if not.
Authors note: Yes of course I will honey. I did change it so they´re not actually dating but are just coworkers to add a little bit of tension. I hope you enjoy
Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x reader, Dylan x y/n
Words: 7,9 k
Summary: You’re working on a movie when an unexpected sex scene Is introduced in the new script. When Dylan asks if you want to practice beforehand, well… Who are you to say no
Warnings: A lot of swearing, smut and I mean SMUT, kind of Dom Dylan and Bratty reader, Things are consensual from both sides but since there is use of alcohol, some of you might consider it as non/con so please proceed with caution.
The previous week had been rough. Everything seemed to go not your way as delays of the script kept ruining the plans for the movie. You were exhausted, easily put, eyes dropping from lack of sleep and the overall punishing stress you’d been under. Dylan O'brien, you’re oh so dear costar, hadn’t been making it easier. His success with the Taylor swift Youtube video and recent glow up had brought him back into the familiar spotlight. Again. Everything seemed to run so easy for him. But at that thought creeping back you had to sigh and rethink. No that’s not true, he had his obstacles and rough patches just like you had. He had worked through them, worked really hard. He deserved everything coming his way. But the thick moving feeling of jealousy had made your throat compressed and eyes green. You felt stuck. Stuck in the same position you’d had in years. Yes, your movies have been terrific, won awards. But you never got a more important part of a movie, never someone that could meet what you wanted. It was selfish, sure, but it was showbiz.
“Okay everyone!”, a voice broke down the walls you were trying to close yourself into. You raised your eyes, blinked the irritation away, and put on your best optional smile. The producer of the show, Carl Bankstrop, was standing on a chair. His head was raised high, almost as he declared himself king on the wobbling excuse for a stool. The gray hair on top of his head was desperately slicked back to hide the evidence of aging. But the bald spot shined through the thin hair, slicked with sweat. He raised his thin fingers with a demand for silence. The room immediately obliged and fell into a silence that could be cut with a knife. Suspense hung thickly in the air as he waved the stack of papers carefully folded in his clammy hand. “I know we are a few days behind schedule”, his voice boomed with a put on confidence that shined through his character “but the delay is finally over. I want to thank the actors and everyone helping on set for being patient. My coworkers will hand out the new and improved scripts now”. A petite man, shrunken by age, waddled across the floor with new polished Italian shoes while grumbling nonsense. His hand left sweaty fingerprints on the scripts handed out. His cloudy eyes met yours for a second before handing you the script. It was warm in your hands, evidence of the tight grip he’d had on it. Licking the top of your finger, ignoring the intrusive thoughts of the bacteria covering them, you started rifling through the yellow tinted pages. Dylan’s character Baron included all the lines. Damp finger turned the next page. Baron. And then the next. Baron. Your eyes didn’t need to sweep over the page for more than a second to turn it again. They had removed half your lines, making more space for Dylan. Even more place. You would be placed in most scenes, legs crossed and a worrying frown on your face. The emotional background character. The woman.
With a primal growl accompanied with the urge to throw a fit you stood up. Your legs took you to the producer, still on his king chair. Hands were shaking in rage as you tried your best to put down the beast threatening to escape you. With a monotone and clear voice you spoke “why is my lines removed”. Carl was still stiff on his chair before he looked down. The act of having to raise your head to look at him once again reminded you of your spot. The woman. The beast fled before you could regain control. “All my lines are given to Dylan. I’ve worked hard on them. You cannot delay the planning only to spit on my hard work, Carl. Honestly, I don’t want to be the one to say it, this movie will not come close to passing the bechdel test”, the tone you used was louder than you intended. Carl looked taken back at your outburst, face twitching like he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. His hand was placed on your shoulder. His clammy fucking hand placed on your shoulder. He tried to give a reassuring squeeze but the both of you knew it was patronizing. “Y/n, Please”, he pleaded without much sympathy “don’t give us more problems. The lines simply did not fit your character. The bechdel test is just a tool to put down producers and is outdated”. The beast roared, paws dragging in the sand. You pointed your finger at him, hoping to convey him with any kind of threatening message “this movie is outdated. You did not fix anything, you didn’t even add anything”. He dropped his hand with a frown. Still on the chair he proceeded to kneel, like if he was concealing a child. “We did add something. A scene for you. Page 7, darling”, he gave you a soft smile while nodding slowly. He was trying not to aggravate you. With furrowed brows you started looking through the script again. Page 5, 6 and…..7. Your mouth dropped as the scene that was presented to you. “I- you”, you were at a loss for words “you added a sex scene?! That was your idea of a scene for me?! And yes of course this fits my character, a child of trauma that can barely sustain as much as a hug without breaking an arm, will be having sex. Yes of course”. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realized this was pointless. You’d had similar conversations more times then you could count. The end result was never in your favor. The beast was tired. The beast was weak. You were nothing but a background character. With that your turned on your heels and stomped off. You heard Greg shout something in lines of “atta girl, you got this” but the rational part of your brain scrambled it into nothingness. Fucking hell.
The trailer was cold. The walls creaked of the violent wind swallowing it up from the outside. It swayed slightly,not built for the harsh weather of kansas. The bitter air made the steam from the tea look like smoke escaping a forest fire. If you want any warmth from the tea whatsoever you have to drink it up quickly. Nothing stayed warm in this god forbidden trailer. Curled up in an armchair, so used you almost sank through it, you did the same thing you’d done for the last hour. Rereading the sex scene. You had been so angry earlier you hadn’t even realized which costar you would share the cot with. Dylan. The image of you and Dylan rolling around between sheets, huffing and puffing like the bad wolf, was laughable. The threatening feeling of warmth in the depths of your stomach was quickly put out with the tea. Dammit, it had gone cold. The distraction didn’t last for long as your mind wandered back to your earlier thought. Yes of course Dylan was attractive. He was annoyingly charming and could make an entire room turn their head. That wasn’t the point. The only reason you even felt unsure about the sex scene was beacuse it had been so long. Not only since you filmed a similiar scene but also since you had sex. It had been a busy year and you didn’t not have any openings in your calendar for… bonking. You snorted out loud, concealing the laugh, as you continued reading the script. It was just a scene. Just acting. Nothing at all out of the ordinary. But to your defence you had never done a scene with this level of…. intimacy. How you were supposed to act out him with his face burrowed between your thighs was completely beyond you. The warmth made an unwelcoming return and you knew it was pointless trying to stop it. The imaginary vision of having Dylan between your legs was too hard to fight off. His hair would be a mess after your ruthless fingers would have clamped onto it for support. Your slick would be painted his mouth as he dove back in. Would he growl at your taste? Maybe spit down your slit to add even more lubrication? Would his eyes shine of that beautiful honey brown or would the pupil be dilated to a primal coal black? Would his long thick fingers scissor your pulsating opening? Preparing you for his big… You slammed the script down as your heartbeat raised itself to your eyes. You got dizzy as you felt your blood start to stream downwards. You had to get your shit together. This sudden vision, sudden.. want, was just another shit on your shit mountain. You had to work through it. Rubbing the space between your eyebrows roughly wasn’t any help. It didn’t erase the image that seemed to have made itself a nonconsensual prisoner of your mind. Honey brown or coal black.
A sudden knock on your trailer took you back to reality as you shook the thoughts off you. Even if the visitor hadn’t seen you, seen what you were thinking, you were still embarrassed. It made you feel like a child caught with their hand down the cookie jar. You stood up on wobbling legs and cleared your throat. Without another thought of your earlier activities you opened the door. Motherfucker. Dylan O'brien. Of fucking course he had to slip his hot ass to your trailer as your slick was ruining your panties. It was as if he knew. His cocky smile didn’t help your suspicions as you narrowed your eyes. “Y/n”, the way he said your name directly to you did not have any business making your tummy twirl. “Dylan”, you leaned against the doorframe “what do i owe the pleasure of a visitation from our biggest star”. His mouth fell slightly before he quickly composed himself. A wave of guilt swiped over you as you realized how distasteful your comment came out. You quickly interrupted him before he had a change to say anything else “i’m sorry, that was dumb. I’ve had a shitty day. Please come in, do you want a cup of tea?”. His eyes lit up as he cleared his voice. His body language suddenly seemed nervous as the confident frame dropped. “Yes thank you, that would be great”, his voice came out too husky for your liking. You tried to ignore how his tone suddenly had an impact on your own body. “I only have earl grey, does that work?”, that you felt dumb over somehing as simple as your lack of tea types were pissing you off. This wasn’t you. This dumb script, dumb scene, was messing with your head. You turned your back to him, hands shaking over the teapot. Anything for him not to see the blush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. The sound of the door closing, the eruption of the wind blowing outside, was all that reached your ears. You thanked past you for having two teacups in your house as you stood on your pinky toes to reach the second cup. Before your fingertips could grasp the chinaware another set of larger fingers joined you. You could feel the warmth of his arm as he reached over you to grab the cup. The heat of his frame radiating to your back as you fought every urge to lean into his touch. The thought of having his hard front pressed against your back was so tempting you had to grasp the sink not to give in. His hand lowered, placing the cup in front of you. His smell hit you before he took a step back. Dark oak swallowed in a deep fragrance of something familiar tickled your nose. Maybe a splash of whiskey with something sweeter like vanilla or maybe lilly. You had to collect yourself, praying to every god he didn’t notice what his actions were doing to you. How just his smell was affecting you. “Thanks”, was all you could muster but it came out raspy and low. You weren’t even sure if he had heard you. Against every protesting braincell you turned towards him. He looked relaxed, back leaned against the wall with crossed arms. The second he had your eyes he opened his mouth “about the script. I had no idea what they were thinking, I tried talking to Gary but he was convinced you had sent me against my will”. You snorted and laughed at that, thinking of poor Dylan with his tail between his legs threatened by you. The laugh seemed to ease the tension and you felt trust in your own voice again “Yeah, I tried talking to him too. He thought the lines fitted better with your character”. He snorted at that with a frown occupying his full lips “bullshit. It doesn’t fit my character whatsoever. They’re just flushing this whole project down the drain by now”. You nodded in agreement, surprised about how conversation seemed to flow so easy with him. A comfortable silence fell as you both stood still. The only thing not making it awkward was the sound of boiling water from the tea pot. He was the one to break through the stillness “I actually wanted to talk to you about our scene”. You hoped he didn’t notice how your whole body froze up as your veins turned to ice. A lump of anxiety proceeded to make its way up your body.
Guilt over your previous thoughts came back. Did he know? Know you had been thinking about him between your legs? No, how could he possibly know that… Maybe he did. Before your violently loud thoughts could continue their rambling he continued “I was just wondering if you wanted you to go over it with me?”. The unnecessary anxiety calmed down but just for a second. You swallowed the lump in your throat and decided to go for humor “then we may need something stronger than tea”. The laugh that left his lips was beautiful as it echoed through the trailer. Every dream, every possible wish for life you’d ever had, was replaced with the urge to make him laugh again. It flowed through your stream like ecstasy as you couldn’t hold back the wide grin consuming you. Through his laugh he succeeded to get some words in “yeah, that actually sounds like a good idea”. You joined his laugh and opened another cupboard. The want, no, the need for him to reach above you again like before was so strong you could feel it in your toes. “Wine or are you thinking stronger?”, you asked, hands moving across the impressive amount of bottles you had on the shelf. He drummed his fingers against the kitchen table “it’s leaning against stronger”. You nodded agreement, imagining being able to go through a sex scene with Dylan obrein without a needed amount of promille in your blood. “Good call”, your hand grasped the single malt renaissance whiskey proudly prodding at the front of your bottles. “Unfortunately”, you screwed off the top as you were engulfed in the strong alcoholic scent “the only clean dish i have is the cups so we have to use them”. He laughed again which brought another swarm of wild fluttering butterflies through your belly. His large hand swallowed the smaller cup as he leaned forward towards your stance. “Nothing says an expensive single malt whiskey as a star wars cup”. You laughed and chose to ignore how close he was. You could easily lean in and press your nose to the soft bronze skin under his chin. As gracefully as you could, which turned out wasnt that graceful, you poured the swirling beverage down the two cups. Both of you made your way towards the couch, a silent agreement that this was best done sitting down. You couldn’t help but to sneak a peek at him. He had taken off his actor makeup and clothing and was dressed in a more relaxed dressing. A washed out dark brown hoodie with a barely visible mets symbol on his chest paired with black jeans. On anyone else it would look relaxed, simple. Somehow he wore it like it was the runway. The way the jeans hugged his thighs and.. bulge should not be considered legal. You forced your eyes up to his face. That didn’t really help either. You hadn’t really noticed the small moles covering his face, or the way his cheekbones curled his face shape. To come to think about it, you had never sat down simply to admire him. Something his looks very much did deserve. Nervously you gulped down half of the cup, anything to make your heart slow down. He licked his lips, an action that did not go unnoticed by you. “I was thinking”, he mumbled between sips “that we could practice and kind of agree on how to do the scene”. You took another mouthful, never leaving the eyeconnect. “I have done these scenes before”, you lowered the cup “but this one is more intimate then i’m used to so i’m a bit nervous to be honest”. He smiled sweetly, eyes softening. A flash of recognising flashed in his honey orbs as he continued to sip from the whiskey. “No need to be nervous”, that only continued to add to the nervousness building in you. Desperate to calm down a bit, you swiped the last of the whiskey. The effects of the alcohol finally seemed to catch on as you felt the familiar warmth move from your stomach to your hands. You could feel the fire spark in your fingertips as the negative emotions in you slowly sailed away. He was right. There was no need to be nervous. You smiled, feeling the alcohol pull your cheeks “you know what, you’re right”. He put down his cup and you got the feeling that you should
mirror his actions. The cups both connected with the table in a shared ‘clink’ as you didnt drop eye contact. You could see he was starting to feel affected as well from the relaxed drop of his shoulders and his cloudy swimming eyes. “From the beginning?”, you asked, wiping your dampness from your hands off at your pants. He nodded, closing his eyes swiftly. When he opened them he wasn’t Dylan any more, he was Baron. It had never crossed your mind before how much of a difference it was between the two of them. They both shared Dylan’s good looks, but the surrounding energy and aura was strikingly different. You straightened your back, letting your hands move carefully to your sides. Eyes hardening as you took his lowered eyebrows in. They casted a shadow across his face in such a magnificent way you almost broke character. “You knew it was pointless”, his voice suddenly boomed, shaking the fragile air around the two of you. He did it with such ease, the emotions behind the words, it made you forget he was following a script. You swallowed thickly, feeling your head dance in warmth from the whiskey. “Stop”, you uttered behind hardly closed teeth. You closed your fists in a protective manner. The fact you could stay in character and not jump his bones immediately impressed even the drunk state you. “No”, he growled, actally fucking growled “you shut the fuck up and listen”. Potentiel arguments your character held backed down, you could feel how she felt. Confused. “You knew damn well it was pointless. But you didn’t care. You risked our entire troop just for a selfish fucking need”. Irritation rose to the surface as you had to remind yourself he was acting. You purse your lips, heaving your chest in and out. “No you fucking listen. I did not risk shit, except my own life. The dumbass troop were safe, you were fucking safe. Don’t you dare call me selfish as if you aren’t doing this whole operation for a fucking award”. He furrowed his eyes as his forceful fist reached out to grasp your blouse. The action was not scripted, contributing a real reaction from you. You were almost certain he could feel your violently beating heart under his knuckles. “You don’t know shit, you hear me. Not a single shit. You’re a brat, someone needs to put you in your fucking place. Just shut up”. You couldn’t hold back the way your body fluttered at his words. You pressed your thighs together, something you were sure he had to notice. Another wave of wetness engulfed your poor ruined panties. Your mouth was agape, plush lips breathing heavily. Something in his eyes told you he knew you were not acting anymore. You would be absolutely red with embarrassment, desperately wanting to hide in a hole, if you weren’t so affected by his words accompanied with the whiskey. You decided to follow his tracks, go rogue. Go off script. You smiled drunk of lust for the man sitting right in front of you “make me”.
Before you could react he was pulling your blouse aggressively until your mouths clashed together. The lingering taste of the whiskey bloomed in your mouth as you immediately deepened the kiss. You knew there were rules for this. How to kiss on screen. But every single one of them seemed to be forgotten as you lips wrapped around the wet muscle in his mouth and sucked. The same tongue you had imagined swiping over your folds was now in your mouth. He groaned in return, something that sent another wave of excitement down your adrenaline pumped body. His hand left your blouse only to grasp the nape of your neck. He pushed you closer, if that was even possible. Lost in the taste of his mouth, the haze of lust and alcohol, you pushed yourself onto his lap. His hand immediately supported your position with pushing fingers on the small of your back. Still very much in character he broke the kiss to move his hand to your throat. He didn’t hold tightly, but gave a reassuring squeeze. “Should put you in your fucking place”, he muttered before meeting your eyes. You saw the second his character fell as his hand swiped some hair stuck to the sweat on your forehead. “You okay?” he whispered, like if the camera was actually on you. You nodded too fast, hands supporting your shape on his chest. “Tell me if you want to stop”, he demanded as you saw a flash of Baron across his appearance. “Yes”, you gasped, voice thicker than usual “i’m okay, please”. You didn’t know what you were asking for but Dylan seemed to understand. In a second he was Baron again, clashing your mouths together. His hands moved down your shape, stopping at your waist abruptly before moving up again. The acting, the character, damn the entire scene was completely lost to you as you leaned into his touch. Without a single doubt in your mind you dragged your hips across his, grinding your crotch down. You quit the kiss to gasp, surprised at the hard length desperately trying to be released under you. “Fuck”, he muttered under his breath as he leaned in and started tracing kisses down your jawline. You repeated the action, making sure to drag your hips teasingly slow. It wasn’t meant to be a tempt, you just wanted to savor the feeling. Before you could move again he had you on your back with him hovering over you. His lips pursed as a familiar fire engulfed his dark eyes. “You’re always such a fucking brat”, he started pulling up his hoodie in a quick paze. You followed the new skin being exposed, licking your lips at the ideas popping up. You wanted to trace your tongue up the same path his fingers were pulling the material. You tried to lean up, test your idea, but he immediately pushed you down again. “No you don’t get that”, he muttered, finally pushing the garment off him. Without thinking about it you whined as you saw his fully exposed upper body. His skin showed faint evidence of a t-shirt out in the sun on his sunkissed arms. But what caught your interest was the dark trail of hair heading down his torso. It was like an arrow to the visible hip bones above the pants. A direction for you to follow. He gave you a warning eye, and you understood what he was indicating. No touching. His fingers rubbed the material of your blouse, as if to check how the material felt. You nodded, a silent consent which seemed to emidelty spur him on. He ripped the material, making buttons shot out like cartridges across the rooms. Too into the scene you did not notice, did not even care about the state of your shirt. He nodded your hips with his hands, signalising to lift them up, which you immediately obligated. “So responsive”, he mumbled, making you realize he was still following the script. It should not have made you shiver in anticipation, knowing he was still on duty. Something about him still doing the scene, which obviously isn’t the goal anymore, was weirdly enough sexy. You knew what was supposed to happen. He wiggled your pants off your thighs, pretending as if his knuckles accidently touching your exposed skin wasn’t intentional. You looked up on him suddenly
feeling shy, knowing he was almost fully dressed and you were left in barely covering underwear. He seemed to sense the hesitation as he grasped both of your knees and pulled them apart “don’t hide from me”. You realized you couldn’t explain this away later. No, your fully drenched paintes showed you werent acting, making any explanations useless. Dylan, on the other hand, seemed to apprective this. One look down your seperated legs and you swore you could see his eyes darkened further. “Is this all for me?”, he cooed, patronizing your submissive state. A devious idea set in your mind as you looked up through your eyelashes. You licked your dry lips while making sure you had an unbreakable eye contact before mumbling “all for you Baron”. He did not like that. Before you could react he was cupping your mound, still determined to keep eye contact. His lips were pursed hard, muscles flexed in his arms. It looked like he was on the last strain of self control. “Tell me to stop”, his voice was husky and an octave deeper than usual “tell me to stop and we can pretend like none of this happened tomorrow”. The idea was shattering, making your heart jump in fright. That was the last thing you wanted. You wanted your drench panties to never leave his mind, to ruin him for any girl after you. Just the thought of another girl spreading her legs for him made a jealous possessive nature move your mouth. “Don’t you dare stop” you leaned your head to the side while cooeeing similar to how he had done “or maybe i’ll go see if anyone else can train a brat like me”. His response was sudden, as his hand slapped down the outside of your panties making contact with your clit. Understimulated you arched your back, chasing the contact. But just as fast as the touch had comed it also left. You whimpered at the loss of his hand, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. “what was that?”, he snarled as he waved his hand teasingly. Ready to submit to him, forget about your teasing, you dropped the brat act. Anything to get his hands back on you. “Please”, you whimper, feeling desperate as you can’t even muster a whine. “Please what?”, he teased with his hand hovering over your sensitive mound again. You could feel the body heat of it, so close to where you wanted him. “Please, don’t stop”, you looked up at him before adding “Dylan”. That seemed to do the trick as his hand slapped down the same sensitive spot again. This time you let out a guttural moan, not at all as desperate or fake as you usually moaned. “Look at you”, he muttered, letting his eyes ravish the sight of you spread out “where did all that attitude go, huh?”. Before you could snap back a witty response his hand slid down the wet material. Feeling the pressure of his fingers so close to your hole was enough to break you. “What do you want?”, he asked teasingly. You should have been angry at him for dragging this out. But the need to please him, to get what you wanted at last, was enough to cancel it out. “I want your fingers, please. Been thinking of you between my legs ever since we got the script”, where the sudden knowledge of how to create a whole sentence came from was nothing you could grasp. The need for him making you bare all your thoughts, leaving everything out on display, was humiliating. He hummed, content with your answer. His finger continued to tease the flimsy material of the side of the panties as if he was considering taking them off or not. “Tell me”, he slid his fingers down the material before repeating it again “tell me what you were thinking”. You gulped, memories of your previous thoughts washing over you. Before you could stop yourself you continued to unveil your thoughts “If you would spit down my clit so i would get even wetter. If your hair would be messy when I gripped it as you ate me.If you would scissor me open on your fingers to prepare me for your big..”. Before you could finish the sentence he interrupted your train of words by slipping his fingers inside the panties. When you finally got him where you wanted him you couldn’t hold back the
whimper leaving your bitten down lips. “Fucking filthy”, he groaned while keeping his fingers still “did you think about this right before i came here. Or maybe you were still thinking about it as you decided to turn around and show me your perfect backside while grabbing tea”. Nodding, you know there was no point in trying to prove him wrong. He finally slipped the panties of your legs, throwing them behind his shoulder. You fought the urge to close your legs at the sudden intimacy, knowing he wouldn’t like it. His eyes were stuck on your wet glistening folds, presenting themself perfectly for him. “You’ve been so good for me now” he praised, something that didn’t fail another wave of wetness against the exposed folds “you deserve an award”. That was the last thing he said before getting down comfortably, probing himself up on his elbows. Now with his face itching from your wanting heat he meets your eyes. You couldn’t help but to smile at the answer to your previous unconscious question. His normally honey orbs were engulfed in coal black darkness. The pitch black dilated pupils kept harsch contact with yours as he leaned down. Hot breath made contact with your heat, so close but yet so far. Before you could utter any complaints his hand that wasn’t gripping your thigh reached for your hand. Curiously you watched him move both of your hands to his head. When it finally clicked, you grabbed onto his messy dark hair and whimpered at the realization. Before you could utter another word he dived down.
His tongue immediately made contact with your bundles of nerves making you let out a silent scream. You roughly scraped across his scalp and he groaned in response. Full lips closed around your clit and sucked it into your mouth, making waves of pleasure move down your insides. The noises he was making was obscene, the combination of his wet tongue ravishing your even wetter cunt with the groans you were both making was something out of a dirty movie. “Taste better than i expected” he said, mostly for himself “a fucking delicasy”. He travelled his tongue downwards before pushing it as far as he could into your hole. The filthy vision of his wet muscle in your quivering hole made you push his face closer. He explored your warm walls, licking up every bitter sweet escence you were ready to give him. When he backed away you sighed at the loss but before you could react he got back to abusing your poor clit. He bit down on the soft skin, making pain and pleasure twirl together deliciously in the depths of your stomach. The hand gripping your thigh left its position to join his mouth. You could feel the pad of his fingertip slowly edging itself into your whole, probing every sensitive spot inside of you. He didn’t stop the slow pace until he had hit his hand to the hilt and couldn’t reach any further. “You’re right. Il have to prepare you if i want to fit”, he muttered before forcefully sucking down your clit again. The indication that he would be deep inside you later, that he had to prepare you for his thicker member, made you moan out loud. His finger finally started to move, exploring your cave until he found… Another guttural scream left your dry throat as his pad came in contact with the spongy spot deep inside of you. That was all the evidence that he found your sweet spot he needed as he proceeded to curl his finger upwards. You hadn’t even noticed that your legs were shaking next to his dived down head. He finally stopped his teasing as he went for a steady hard pace accompinted with his expert tongue and curling finger. Lost in the haze he provided, you gripped his messy hair for dear life. Chuckling darkly at your actions, you could feel the vibrations against your sensitive clit. Another finger joined him, easily slipping in thanks to the wetness surrounding them. The perfect curve and push of his tongue was all that was needed to throw you unexpectedly over the edge. With small huffs of moans you bucked against his face as your body was swallowed up by the pleasure. Energy swirled through you as you felt the hard coil in your body combust. Your vision went dark interrupted by flimmering light as your body continued to shake in his grip. The overpowering ecstasy continued to hug and kiss your veins as he licked and fingered you through your climax. It went on for longer than anything you’ve ever felt, it wasn’t close to any orgasm you’ve ever given yourself. Finally your body slumped back, exhausted by the overpowering pleasure he had brought down on you. Heavy breaths interrupting your normal breath pace as you were desperately trying to catch your breath. After what seemed like an eternity
you finally came back, noticing how he was still coaxing you through your pleasure with persistent fingers. “Dylan”, you moaned, voice breaking my dryness “I-i”. You were too exhausted to finish your sentence as you slipped into the lust haze that was left. He hushed you, touches turned soft, as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. How he was the first man to ever give you an orgasm. That he just gave you the strongest orgasm of your life at that. “You were so good”, he praised, kissing the inside of your thighs. The sudden intimacy made your heart swell as you mustered any energy left to look at him. He looked absolutely ravishing between your legs, just as you had imagined. His lips were wet from your slick, his hair still nestled in your tight grip. You imagined what you had to look like, completely ruined under his touch. He did not seem to mind. Instead his fingers slowly started to move again. At your fullness you understood he must’ve added a third one. It was a tight fit, but the slickness allowed him to nestle in between your walls and reach your sweet spot again. The overstimulation was almost too much as you whimpered in a mix between pain and pleasure. He hushed again and bent down to kiss your clit. “I need you inside of me”, you felt your primal nature crawling back after your incredible orgasm, wanting nothing more than for him to be buried to the hilt in you. “I know”, he cooed as he scissored his fingers “i have to prepare you”. You shook your head, desperately “don’t need. Now, please”. He looked up at you, at your ruined state. Praying in the back of his mind that he could wake up to this vision everyday. “Baby”, his nickname made you clench around his fingers “it’s going to be a tight fit”. You shook your head again as all rationality left your body. You knew he was right but the need for him inside you overpowered any reality of the situation. “Please, I want it. Don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow”, you mumbled, spilling out what was the only thought in your clouded head. He groaned at that, supporting his head on the inside of your thigh “your going to be the death of me”. Against his better judgement he dragged his fingers out. The fingertips shriveled up after you warmth and wetness and before you could give it a second thought you possessively pushed them into your mouth. His groan matched your moan as you sucked the juice off him. Something as filthy as your juices covering his entire hand made you tighten your mouth around him. You made sure to get every last drop before letting them out with a pop. The look he gave you would stay on your mind for weeks. Like you were a goddess sent down from heaven. There were so many emotions swirling in his eyes you almost forgot he was still between your legs wet with your cum.
He propped himself up again from his elbows, sitting up. You mirrored him, letting your naked form sit next to his covered one. He started to unbutton his pants, desperately trying to get the slick material off him. You watched patiently, greedy for more exposed skin. “Take off your bra”, he commanded as his pants finally came off “want to see your tits as you ride me”. You gasped at the indication and fumbled with the claps on your back in a second. When you finally go the hasp off you dragged the prison of your body and let your curves escape. They bobbed slightly from the sudden weight, begging for attention. He took one look at them with a groan before focusing on his briefs. “I’m not going to last long when you look like that”, he breathed as he finally got his underpants off. His cocks sprung free, reaching for his stomach. It was stone hard, veins gripping it so tight it was shifting towards purple. The head was the same red as his plush lips, pushing out drops of precum. You never in your entire life thought that you could be attracted to dick. You were wrong. Your insides did a turn of pleasure as you saw the thick member as it strained impressilny long. He may have been right, it was going to be a tight fit. Before you could stop yourself you leaned down and took his head into the warmth of your mouth. What had possessed you to do so was most likely the teasing amount of cum slicking down his soft skin. The thought that something so precious would go to waste did not sit right with you. He hissed in pleasure as you sucked down everything he had to give him. The taste of his natural musk together with the underline of his soap was enough to make you groan. The vibration seemed to spur him to grasp your hair tightly. You didn’t have enough time to get all of his juices up before he pulled you off. You gave him your best bratty look which he hardened his eyes to. “I’m not going to last if you do that again. I thought you wanted to feel me tomorrow”. At his quotation of your previous words your bratty face fell and a good girl one came. He sat down comfortably, nodding for you to join him. You didn’t need more convincing as you swung a leg over his lap so your dripping folds were right over his hardening length. His handsome face meeting yours, with those types of eyes you could get lost in was presented to you. You leaned forward, kissing his nose before leaning back, smiling from ear to ear. At that he laughed, that beautiful noise that you had been longing for the entire night. He started leaving specks all over your shoulders as he slowly inched you down. He was very considerate, letting you be in control. With that you positioned yourself right, grabbing his length right, before slipping down. His head popped past your lips and as you inched down further you felt the stretch. He filled you completely but wasn’t even fully inside yet. “Fuck, i think youre too tight”, he tried, his voice strained in self controll. Determined to prove him wrong, to please him, you ignored his words. You took it slow but still pushed him further and further inside. The stretch started to feel painful, as you felt your insides choking his twitching cock. “Y/n”, he tried but you quieted him down by fully pushing him inside you. The pain was intense, as you felt him push the deepest part of you. He hissed, head rolling back, as he was on the verge of nirvana. The vision alone made you squeeze around him, not really helping the self control he was desperately grasping onto. You sat there, letting your insides warm him and squeeze him shut. There was something primal and domestic about having him this deep inside of you, almost stuck because of your walls swallowing him. The first wave of pleasure was strong, indicating that your insides were starting to mold and get used to him. He looked lost, on the very edge of self control, as he reached down to where you were connected. “Fuuuuck”, he drawed out before letting his eyes join his hand “I can feel myself through your stomach”. Your palm joined his and very well, you could feel the
persistent push of his size under your navel. You moaned at that, imagining him filling you up so completely. His finger pads collected some of the slick dripping down your connected bodies before pushing your clit. before you could stop yourself, knowing it would most definitely hurt, you brought yourself up before slamming down again. The pain was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure you felt as he hit all the right parts inside of you. “Stop that”, he growled as his fingers continued their abuse “i won’t be able to hold back”. As bratty as you were, you repeated your action. Your walls took him perfectly, pushing him to the hilt once again. “Then don't”, you moaned as you were planning to set a steady pace. He seemed to have a different idea in mind. The second the words left your minds you could see his self control simmer away to nothing as he grasped your love handles. With one push of strength he set a brutal pace. The view of him like this, completely lost in the feeling of you around him, was enough to make the pain slowly go away. His rough pace together with the violent abuse on your clit made the coil in your stomach start to build again. He let out strings of curse words as his dick was completely engulfed by your inviting heat. “Fucking perfect”, he growled behind closed teeth “made for me to fuck”. Your hands grabbed his shoulders for support, lost in the intense pleasure to respond. The room was filled with the obscene noises of you mewls and his groaning, the slickness of your walls flushing around his stone hard member and the slap of his full balls against your skin. He fucked you like a ragdoll, pushing into your bodys every curve. Succeeding to hit that sponge spot with every thrust. “Where”, his voice was barely hearable between the slaps of your bodies “where do you want me to come”. You rested your forehead to his, letting your breaths join in symphony. “Inside”, you whispered as you tightened your grip on him “I want to feel you drip outside of me on set tomorrow”. The indication that you wanted something as absolutely filthy as to have him drip out of you while you were talking to his coworkers made him snap. He thrusted deep and hard, growling praises over and over again. “Going to make sure that you’re dripping of me for days”, he grabbed the back of your neck to bend it backwards “so everyone knows who ruined you”. With that he forced himself forwards and pushed your nipple in the warm heat of his mouth. The warmth inside you finally snapped as you came violently around him. He kept the pace, fucking you through your pleasure. You lost all contact with your body, stuck in the punishing feel of pleasure surrounding your every nerve. The feeling of you gushing around him, coating both of your lower parts with the sweet essence of your juices, finally made his balls tighten up in pleasure. With beautiful groans he was cumming, spurting deep deep inside of you. You feel the warmth, as he painted your inner walls white. You felt completely full both physically, but also mentally knowing how he was indeed going to drip inside of you for days. He rode out both of your escacys, out of breaths from the marvellous pleasure you both were in. His member twitched inside of you as it should its last spurt of white seed. Completely exhausted he let his body go slump with his hands down his sides. You collapsed on top of him, your head supported from his shoulder. Your chests moved in harmony as both of you were desperately trying to catch your breaths. The silence of the room was intense compared to the previously loud noises. It reeked of sex. Of sweat and juices, of passion and lust. You began kissing his neck, just like you had been thinking about earlier today. If you had asked this morning if you believed you would end up with Dylan O'Brien’s cum deep inside of you, you would have called them crazy. But here you were. The small kisses were all the aftercare you could muster as Dylan slowly came back and started stroking your hair. You were the one to break the silence this time “so… do you
think we are prepared for our scene?”. He let out a laugh, so filled with joy, that you thought for yourself that you were right for the urge to want to make him laugh. Deep inside you knew that his laugh, and ropes of cum inside of you, were all you ever wanted. Suddenly the lack of lines in the script didn’t seem like such a problem anymore, as you realized it would only mean you could hopefully practice this scene with Dylan again.
It’s been a few days and I’m still not over All Too Well (TV), the 10-minute version, and the short film…so I’m going to word vomit about it, of course.
This isn’t even about All Too Well as a song honestly (even though I personally believe it’s a musical masterpiece, of course). More importantly, though is the catharsis.
It’s nothing new that TS is amazing at putting in her emotions in a song and making them so, so relatable. It’s one of the reasons why she’s loved so much by her fans, but she is also loved and important because she has consistently made the case that young love and heartbreak isn’t frivolous and unimportant the way in which “serious” media and “adults” tend to portray it. This has stayed true from her music in Taylor Swift through the cardigan-betty-august trio in folklore(I can’t remember if evermore has any songs that refer, specifically, to young love). Her music reassures you that your emotions are valid, that it’s okay to feel love and pain with intensity no matter how young you are and how casual the relationship might seem to the people around you. This is probably why I loved the original version of All Too Well so much; the sheer rawness of the song, and the emotion in every live performance that you could see so, so clearly. And that,inmy opinion, is why so many Swifties have such a deep connection to this song in particular. Red may have been a mosaic of emotions, but this made you see her pain when she performed. How could anyone who loved her not feel a connection?
And then you have the new versions in 2021. And they’re even more special, because now they represent the strength of experiencing pain but making your way past it. The SNL live performance of the 10-minute version? Not only was the performance great in itself, but to see her look so strong while singing this raw expression of her heartbreak and–in this version–anger, GOD. I loved it, and I cried.
As fans, we’ve seen TS be happy and at peace and seeing this version of her take up the songs that represent a bruised, broken part of her and making it clear that she has taken the pain and made it into something so amazing is fucking INSPIRING okay. Love you Taylor, I’m so glad you’re happy now.
Fuck you J.G., ugh.
Actually, nah. I refuse to make this about this man now. This should be about Taylor and her skills and growth and emotions.
i’ve seen a few people make fun of the “and you were tossing me the car keys, ‘fuck the patriarchy’ keychain on the ground” lyric, but i actually think its a really interesting and deep lyric, and it comments a lot on the persona of taylor’s partner in this song. he puts up this pretence as the feminist guy who respects women, but we learn from the rest of all too well, and other songs on the album, that he has manipulative and disrespectful tendencies towards women: he dehumanises taylor into some trophy to reflect better onto him (all too well, ten minute version), ignores her needs and emotions and makes her feel ‘needy’ (all too well, ten minute version), the likelihood is that he also cheated on her (babe), and he lied to her as well (the moment i knew, all too well, ten minute version), not to mention the whole thing with younger women (“i’ll get older but your lovers stay my age”, all too well, ten minute version). the keychain being on the ground is pretty significant too — he dropped his façade and revealed who he truly was to taylor, and it led to the destruction of their relationship. idk i think its a pretty loaded lyric, actually.
