Smut And Fluff Of All Fandoms 😁

👧🏻⚠️Dylan O'Brien⚠️👧🏻

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He counts. He always counts. He's careful. Well, careful enough. When things start to go hazy and your vision begins to tunnel, little stars spotting across his face as he stares down at you, he lets go.

You gasp in that desperate breath your body has been straining for, his hand still clasped around your throat but not squeezing.

"Breathe, babe..." he whispers, leaning in closer until his lips are brushing against yours. "Breathe."

You moan against his lips until he takes them between his and quiets them in his mouth. You can feel his other hand on the outside of your thigh and you shift beneath him in a silent little plea to get what you want.

He smiles into the kiss and his hand slowly glides across your smooth skin until you feel the warmth of it between your legs. He pulls back from your kiss with your lower lip still trapped between his teeth and grins at the way you arch your back and whimper when he finally lets it go.

"Oh, shit..." you whine when you feel him trace along your opening, wetting his finger in you before he swirls it around your clit, your needy little moans getting louder until you can't help but cuss out a 'fuck!' at the ceiling.

"Mmm...you're so loud..." he says, a touch of admonishment in his tone, smiling down at you as his finger glides over the slick of you and dips inside. "What are we gonna do about that, huh?"

You groan when he curls that single finger into just the right spot, and all he does is laugh.

His fingers drum against your throat before you feel him begin to squeeze them again.

You draw in a long breath as you feel him beginning to seal off your airway and you look down your body, watching him slip a second finger in alongside the first.

"Gonna make you cum so hard..."

Those sinful words spilling out of his glistening smirk are almost enough to send you careening over the edge on their own, but you're still riding that wave, just under the crest. He's got that pressure building up inside you, his relentless fingers driving into you—his thumb helping to rub you closer and closer—but it's his hand wrapped around your throat. That's what's going to end you. Your head is swimming as all the muscles in your body devour that little bit of oxygen you've got left trapped in your lungs.

It's like a tiny spark when it starts, you're tingling, the sensation of it all amplified by the way your mind wanders away into this other place. It's all flashing lights and colour, you're floating through the waves pleasure, drowning in the feeling of it, drifting through the high he's given you when you finally come up for air.

You gasp and the room comes back into focus, he's kneeling between your thighs, his hooded eyes locked on yours.

"So good..." he whispers, his fingertips are tracing gentle circles on your thigh.

"Yeah?" you ask, still a bit breathless and weak.

"Mmm," he hums, chewing at the corner of his lower lip. "You look good with my hands around your throat."

The way he's tracing along your thigh with his fingers goose-pimples your skin.

"You did so good for me...squeezed me so hard when you came I thought you were gonna break my fingers," he chuckles before you grab his wrist and pull him toward you.

It's enough to drive you to the brink again when you feel his length hard against your thigh. You draw in a stuttered breath.

"Glad I didn't," you say, lifting his hand with yours, pressing a kiss to the pads of the fingers he'd used to fuck you. "I like these," you breathe out before you suck his fingers into your mouth. You can taste the tang of yourself on him and it makes your eyes roll back.

"Holy...shit..." he stutters, his cock pulsing against your skin. "Fuck!" he yells.

You release his fingers with a satisfying little pop and look up at him through your lashes. "Who's loud now?" you tease.

His eyes narrow, a little huff of air escaping out his nose. "I don't have shit on you..."

"Oh yeah?" Your head tipping to the side, your hair knotting up on the pillow as your hand glides down over his back until you've got his ass in your hand. "Prove it," you say before you seal your mouth to the pulse point on his wrist that's propping him up next to your cheek as you you knead at the handful of him in your palm, grinning like a Cheshire cat when he throws his head back and groans out a choked-off expletive.

It's intoxicating looking up at his long neck stretched out, his pulse throbbing through the vein that snakes along it. You like knowing you can make him feel like that. A little desperate. A little unhinged. But you don't have the upper hand for long enough to really even enjoy it.

When he looks back down at you—his eyes are deep and dark with need—he shifts his weight, spreading your thighs wide enough to settle between them, and without giving you a moment to relish in the way it feels to have him prodding at your entrance, he slams himself into so deep you let out a shocked yelp.

"Gonna make you scream so fuckin' loud..." he says, pulling back out of you and driving into you again, "that our neighbours call the fuckin' cops."

It's so needy, the way he's driving into you, so desperate, but he's got that control to know just the way to make it feel so fucking good even when it's as chaotic as it is. He's pinning you to the bed and when you moan for more, for it harder and faster, he grabs your thigh and presses it to your chest, opening you up so he can fuck into you the way you're begging for.

He's getting his wish, you're calling out his name so loud someone outside these four walls is hearing it. The sound of the two of you moving together, your hips colliding on those desperate thursts is like an erotic symphony you could get off to all on its own. Pile on the way he's grunting out praise for you, the way your name is spilling from his lips louder and louder each time you squeeze around him? You're a gonner.

When you come this time, it's less a blissful ride and more an explosive release of tension, like the snap of a piano wire. You scream out his name, your entire body quaking with the force of one of the most satisfying orgasms he'd ever given you. The whole thing made sweeter still when at the peak of it all, cresting that high, Dylan spills into you with a final desperate jerk of his hips, driving a deep thrust into your core.

He collapses onto your chest and the way his warm breath fans over the sweat-slickened skin makes you tremble. You run your hands through his hair, softly tucking the little bits that curl out from the edges back in with the others. It's quiet for a long moment before you hear it in the distance. The sound of sirens.

When you look down at him, he's already looking up. A smile begins to creep across his face before the two of you begin to laugh.