#costar!reader

When he opens the door, you smile—because of course you do.

He’s in a button down, sleeves rolled and collar loose, looking relaxed but sharp. Like someone who always knows where he’s going to end up by the end of the night. His hair’s neat. His smile’s warm. Everything about him says steady.

He greets you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. A hand at the small of your back. A kiss to your temple. The scent of something expensive still clinging to his skin.

Inside, the lights are low. Soft. The place smells like cologne and something expensive. There’s music—crackly, old-fashioned, just loud enough to feel intentional. There’s wine breathing on the counter. Plates already set out on the table. You’re so consumed by taking in the apartment that you hardly even notice that there’s not even food. 

Ben doesn’t ask if you’re hungry. Doesn’t ask anything, really.

He just turns toward the hallway, slow and sure, and glances back at you with that same unshakable calm.

“Bedroom’s through here, sweetheart.”

Not a question. Not a command. Just something said with the kind of confidence that’s impossible to challenge.

And you follow—of course you do. He’s probably just giving me a tour, you reason, he wants me to know his space.

Because he’s been nothing but perfect. Because he’s never once made you feel unsafe. Because that voice of his could talk you into anything.

You don’t even realize until later that he never looked to see if you were behind him.

He already knew you would be.

The bedroom’s warm—dimly lit, quiet. Nothing about it feels overt or pornographic. Not yet. Just soft shadows, crisp sheets, and him standing by the bed like this is simply the next part of the evening.

He turns, slow and loose, and crooks two fingers at you with that same easy calm that’s lulled you from the start. “C’mere.”

You smile before you even move. A little laugh slips out of you—nervous, pleased—and you step closer.

He brushes your hair off your shoulder, trails the backs of his fingers down your arm like he’s smoothing out static.

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I’ve really been enjoying all this time we’ve been spendin’ together.”

You duck your head, grinning. “Yeah?” you say, light and breathy. “Me too. It’s been… really nice.”

His mouth twitches like he knew you’d say that.

“You’re just—” he chuckles softly, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe his luck. “You’re a real rare thing. Classy. Sweet. Soft.”

You laugh again, quieter this time. “You make me sound like a collectible.”

He hums, amused, thumb rubbing slow circles over your knuckles. “Hell, baby,” he says, “I don’t think I’ve met a girl like you in decades.”

Your chest warms at that. You preen without even meaning to, shoulders relaxing as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Well… I don’t know about that,” you say, smiling. “I’m not that special.”

His gaze sharpens—fond, intent. 

“Yeah,” he says gently. “You are.”

He steps closer, crowding your space just enough to make your breath hitch. Taller. Broader. Older. But still careful, still gentle in that way that makes you feel precious instead of cornered.

“And when you told me you’d never been with anyone…” His mouth brushes your temple. “Well. That just about drove me insane.”

You laugh, flustered, cheeks heating. “Ben—” you start, embarrassed. “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”

You feel him smile against your skin.

“It is to me,” he says quietly.

You still just a little, heart fluttering, and he feels it immediately.

“Hey,” he murmurs, soothing. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

His fingers skim the hem of your blouse, slow enough that it almost tickles. You suck in a breath, half‑laughing again.

“You’re making it sound so serious,” you say softly.

“It is,” he replies, just as soft. “Doesn’t mean it has to be scary.”

He kisses just below your ear, lingering.

“But if you’re gonna give it up to someone,” he adds, voice dropping, “oughta be someone who knows what the fuck he’s doin’, don’t you think?”

Your laugh comes out smaller this time. You nod without quite realizing you are. “I guess,” you murmur, shy but smiling. “You do seem… very confident.”

That does it. He smiles—slow, satisfied.

“That’s my girl.”

Then his fingers are unbuttoning your top, methodical and practiced, brushing every inch of skin he reveals with open reverence. You let him, body buzzing, head light, enjoying the attention too much to question it.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs again, mouth warm against your collarbone. “I’ll be real good to you.”

And somehow, that makes everything feel inevitable.

It’s not until he has you stripped naked on your hands and knees on the mattress—his own knee nudging your legs apart, his hands gripping your hips like a man who’s waited for this—that something shifts.

His mouth is on you before you can even process it—hot, messy, filthy—and you cry out, twisting in the sheets, your face already flushed and slick with sweat. He groans into you like he’s starved for it.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, “look at this sweet little pussy.”

You whimper. You’ve never heard him talk like that about you before. Not even close.

“So fucking wet for me,” he says, thumb spreading you open while he presses his mouth right back to you, licking deep like it’s his.

You try to speak—maybe a gasp of his name, maybe something uncertain—but the only thing that comes out is a moan, helpless and broken.

He hums against you, pleased. “Told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

Then his fingers slide into your mouth—two of them, sudden and deep, pressing down on your tongue until you start to gag around them. 

“Deep breaths, sweetheart,” he drawls, the thumb of his same hand stroking the skin of your jaw.

He doesn’t rush it. Just holds you there, feeling you accommodate him, until your breathing shakily around his fingers, eyes watering, and your lips tentatively begin to close around them

“There you go,” he murmurs, pleased. “Knew you’d figure it out.”

You make a small, helpless sound around his fingers and he laughs quietly, fond.

“Easy,” he coos. “You’re doin’ just fine.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, slick with your saliva, and before you can even process the loss, his hand slides around your front to rest in between your breasts. He presses you up, his chest to your spine, mouth close to your ear.

His other hand comes around to your jaw, thumb settling at the hinge, tilting your face just enough.

“Open,” he says softly. Not a command—an expectation.

You do.

He spits into your mouth—unhurried, deliberate—watching it land like he’s savoring the moment. His thumb strokes your cheek, grounding, approving.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “That’s it.”

You gasp, overwhelmed, and he keeps his hand there, steady, making sure you don’t pull away.

“Swallow,” he adds gently. “C’mon now, be good, sweetheart.”

You do, because of course you do.

He smiles against your ear, satisfied.

“See?” he says quietly, guiding you back down to rest your weight on your palms. “Nothin’ to it. You just needed someone to show you.”

You don’t know why your thighs are shaking so hard. You don’t know when he started spanking you, either—sharp, rhythmic cracks to the side of your ass between long, indulgent licks of your pussy—but it’s blurring, all of it. His mouth, his fingers, his voice.

“Why…?” You ask breathlessly, your voice is soft and high pitched and whiny. You’re not even sure what you’re asking about at this point, everything that’s happened since your clothes came off has felt odd and overwhelming and other worldly in the weirdest, best way. 

“Because this,” he says between licks, “is what people do when they love each other so very much.”

Another slap. You jolt, whine, clench around nothing.

“And you do love me, don’t cha? I’m so good to you, sweetheart.”

You’re nodding, babbling, your voice wrecked.

“Yes—yes, I love you—”

You don’t even know if you mean it. You think you do, you’ve thought about it an awful thought recently. Ben was like your dream guy–well, you thought he was. You’d even imagined this moment, but you don’t think your imagination ever could have come up with something so… dirty like this is. You thought your first time would be sweet and soft, maybe that it’d even hurt a little bit. There’s nothing sweet or soft about what’s happening right now.

His hand slides up your back, palm splayed between your shoulders, pinning you down.

“Yeah, you do,” he murmurs. “That’s why you’re lettin’ me do all this nasty shit to you.”

You should be humiliated. Heck, you should be alarmed—but you’re not. 

Because this is still Ben. 

Because his voice is still calm. His hands are still sure. And somewhere in the blur of praise and filth, you believe him.

“That’s my perfect girl,” he says, mouthing over the back of your neck like he’s claiming you. “Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you. But fuck if you’re not made for this.”

You whine, gasping into the sheets.

“No wonder you never let anyone else get a taste,” he growls, lining himself up behind you now. “You’ve been waiting for me, huh? You knew I’d take such good care of you, no other limp dicked haircut could come close.”

And by the time he’s fucking into you—deep, rough, like he owns every inch of you—you’re so far gone you’d believe anything he tells you.

Even when he says:

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong about this, baby,” he murmurs, breathing heavy at your ear as he drives into you again, rougher now that he’s close. You can almost here the smirk in his voice when he speaks, “this is what true love looks like, afterall.”

Your whole body’s shaking, every nerve lit up and pulled tight. You’re gasping his name, fingers clawing at the sheets as the pressure coils and snaps all at once. It hits you hard—too much, too fast—and you cry out, hips jerking back against him as you come undone around his cock.

“That’s it, baby” he groans, feeling you clamp down, losing whatever control he had left. “Fuck—just like that.”

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t slow down. Just fucks you through it, chasing his own end with short, brutal thrusts until his breath stutters and breaks.

“Fuckin’ christ—” he growls, voice wrecked as he spills inside you, pressing deep and staying there, holding you open while it hits him in waves.

For a second, neither of you moves. Just heat and weight and the sound of both of you trying to breathe.

Eventually, he pulls out slow, deliberately, and groans like he’s never felt anything better.

You’re practically limp beneath him, face-down and trembling, your thighs still twitching, breath all hiccupy and uneven. There’s slick everywhere—your inner thighs, the sheets, his lower stomach and dick and thighs—and he just watches his cum drip out of you like it’s the best part of his night.

“Fuckin’ look at that,” he murmurs, dragging two fingers through the mess, rubbing it in with a low whistle. “You made such a pretty mess for me, sweetheart.”

You whimper into the comforter.

Ben laughs—soft, pleased, wrecked in the best way—and slaps your ass once, light, just to feel the bounce.

“Goddamn,” he mutters again, sitting back on his heels. “Didn’t think you’d let me take it that far, to be honest.”

You shift onto your side, stunned, your cheek hot against the cool comforter. “What the hell just happened…?” you breath softly, but your voice is raspy and cracks at the end.

“Hey,” he says, suddenly closer. His palm lands warm against your face, thumb at your jaw, turning your head so he can see you fully. “You alright?”

You blink up at him, wide-eyed, a little slack-jawed. You nod, but it’s faint—a dazed little gesture that barely gets halfway.

Ben coos. Actually coos.

“Aw, there she is. Still in there.”

His thumb strokes over your cheek, his hand big and solid under your chin, holding your face like it’s something delicate.

“You did so good, baby” he says, voice dropping low. “Y’ didn’t cry. Didn’t have to ask me to stop. Just laid there like a good girl and let me take care of you.”

He leans down and kisses your forehead—slow and heavy, like he means it—before flopping back on the bed beside you with a satisfied groan. His cigarettes are already waiting on the nightstand. He lights it in one motion, takes a drag, and exhales toward the ceiling, totally at ease.

“You want one?” he asks, holding it out to you.

You blink again. “I… I don’t smoke.”

“You didn’t fuck either, ‘til tonight,” he says easily, sliding the cigarette back between his lips. “You’re on a roll, why stop now?”

You’re quiet for a while until something crosses your mind and you can’t help but ask, “… is it always like that? Like, for everyone?” You muse absentmindedly, your eyes soft and unfocused

“Yeah, if you’re lucky and find someone who knows shit about sex.” He shrugs, giving your cheek a playful tap. “And you, sweetheart, are the luckiest girl in the fucking world for finding me. You should start buying lotto tickets.”

You laugh—sort of—but it’s more breath than sound. Your whole body still feels like it’s floating. Heavy and light at the same time. He watches you like he knows exactly what you’re feeling.

Then he reaches for the drawer in the nightstand and grabs a small orange pill bottle, rattling it with one hand.

“You need something to help take the edge off?”

Your head lifts, barely. “Something to take the edge off what?” You narrow your eyes at him in confusion.

“Klonopin,” he says slow, clearly amused. “Takes the edge off the comedown. Smoothes it all out, makes everything feel like glitter.”

You blink at him, still trying to catch up. “I don’t do drugs.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart, but that’s what everyone says at first,” he says, all grin and no shame. “Doesn’t mean you won’t.”

He tosses the bottle back onto the nightstand and picks up a glass of whiskey you hadn’t even noticed was there before—not that you’d exactly had a lot of time to take in his end table decor.

“Last offer,” he winked, “you want a drink?”

You sigh—this you could do—and reach for it, but your hand’s wobbly, so he guides it to your lips and watches while you take two slow sips. Then he pulls it away and downs the rest himself, smirking as he wipes his mouth.

“Atta girl, baby”

He leans back, one arm behind his head, the other reaching out to tug you into his chest like it’s automatic. You go without resistance. You’re too loose and warm and entirely out of your depth.

“You know,” he drawls, bringing his cigarette back to his lips, “I’ve been on my best fuckin’ behavior for you,” he says, smoke curling from his mouth as he speaks. “Since day one.”

You hum, dizzy and relaxed, letting your fingers trace lightly along the edge of his ribs.

“Didn’t lay a hand on you,” he continues. “Barely even let myself flirt. Made myself real fuckin’ tolerable.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck.

“You think that was easy for me?”

You don’t answer, and you don’t need to. You’re curled into him, pliant and trusting, and he knows he’s got you. 

“Worth it, though,” he mutters against your skin. “You’re so much better than I thought you’d be.”

“Thanks? I think?” You say confused, even more so when he just laughs.

His hand slides down to your hip, not to start anything—just to touch. To feel the body he just wrecked.

He’s still stroking your hip when he shifts, rolls you closer like he’s just getting comfortable. His voice, when he speaks, is soft again—warm and low and perfect, like all that filth never happened.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, “we look fuckin’ great together.”

You blink up at him, dazed, lips parted like you’re still trying to remember how to breathe.

“Can’t wait to show you off,” he adds, smiling like he means it. “Red carpets. Cameras. America’s fuckin’ sweetheart and her soldier.”

Your cheeks heat, even now. You laugh, breathless and a little shy. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grins. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”

There’s a pause. His thumb brushes the swell of your cheekbone.

“So what do you say, sweetheart?” His voice is warm again—sweet, almost bashful, like he didn’t just fuck you into the mattress. “You wanna be my girl? Officially?”

Your lashes flutter. It sounds so simple when he says it. So earnest.

Like you didn’t give him everything already.

You nod slowly, lips parted on a dazed little smile. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay.”

Ben grins—beams, really—like he just won the goddamn lottery. His hand squeezes your hip, thumb brushing the dip of your waist like he’s grounding himself in the moment.

“That's perfect, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “Knew you would.”

He lets the silence stretch a beat, just long enough for your pulse to settle, your breath to come back, for the ache in your thighs to really bloom.

Then, all easy charm and casual affection, he cuddles you even closer and asks—

“You still hungry?”

You blink, slowly. He’s already reaching for another cigarette from the nightstand like this is totally normal. Like this is just a regular Tuesday.

“Figured we could go out instead, maybe get some steaks,” he says, like it’s nothing. “There’s this little place up the block—old-school joint, real butter-heavy, they know me. You’ll love it.”

You can’t even process it. You’re still leaking him onto his sheets, still raw and sticky and half-drunk on the sound of his voice.

But his tone is light.

"After all, I did ask my girl over for dinner," he winks, "can't let you starve. 'Specially not after how brave you were for me tonight, sweetheart."

His smile is easy. And the way he’s looking at you—like you’re already his everything, like this is routine—makes your stomach flip in that dangerous, fluttery way.

You nod again, slow and dreamy.

“Steaks sound great,” you whisper.

He kisses your forehead and smiles.

And just like that, he’s got you all over again.

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—

djokeerydaily Joe Keery walking towards girlfriend Y/n L/n in the crowd stands of Laneway Festival after his set.

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user1 they’re so private with their relationship, it’s so funny seeing how they act in person

↳ djodjo3 no literally-

user404 did anyone see them dancing together??

—

He’s only a few feet away now. The security is clearly much larger than you and blocking your view a little but from how the crowd is increasingly getting louder and extending their hands in desperate attempts of recognition, a signing, or a photo you’re sure he’s close.

It’s confirmed when the burly security steps aside just enough to let Joe slip by, his smile immediately softening as your eyes catch.

Although, you’re both private with PDA. You can’t resist the warm embrace you two step into. Your small frame fitting into his larger one, your arms stretched over his wide shoulders and his arms wrapping around your back.

“I’m so proud of you.” You whisper into his ear, never able to resist the chance at showing your support.

“Thanks, bear.” He whispers back, his arms squeezing you a little tighter before releasing you.

Your lips are already pulling into a wide smile at the nickname. It’s stupid, really. ‘Honey bear’ had been an inside joke between you both for years, so naturally when you got together you dropped the overly affectionate part (honey) and kept the part that was less conspicuous. But just as meaningful.

Waving to the fans who squeal your name, you keep your other hand intertwined with Joe’s as he leads you both through the sea of festival goers.

—

The side area near the backstage trailers is the perfect spot. It’s away from the suffocating crowd, private enough to feel comfortable and open enough to watch the main stage.

Still on a high from his set, Joe’s smile barely dims. Even as you use one hand to push his overgrown hair from his face in favor of dabbing away the sweat build up with a cloth.

“Having a good time?” He asks, always making sure you’re okay. ‘Habit’, he always says.

“What makes you think I’m not?” You rebuttal, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Joe chuckles, shaking his head in amusement when you finally pull the cloth away and run a hand through his hair.

“Liked the set?” He can’t help but to ask, although his words get a little quieter and he begins to melt in your arms.

“Loved it.” You reassure him, because you know that’s what he needs. And you would give him whatever he needed…but if anyone asked you would play it off.

“Yeah?” His soft brown eyes peel open, fighting against the spell set on him with every pleasurable rake of your nails in his hair.

“Yes.” You nod, still buzzing from the crowd screaming his lyrics. You couldn’t express how proud you were.

The man before you. So different from the younger version of him you met way back in 2015 - filming season one of Stranger Things.

You’ve both changed, evolved. And now you get to do it together, side by side.

“Wanna go check out the next set?” He asks after a moment, his fingers squeezing your knee fondly.

—

djotime tagged y/nallthetime in a post!

“‘Intelligent and funny’. Wow.” Drew teased, elbowing y/n lightly. “Well, I knew of you before we met and was impressed with your talent and beauty on screen. However, once we met, I was thrilled to find a wonderful personality that accompanied all that.”

“We quickly found out that we’re just about the same person, so that was a pleasant surprise.” Y/n nodded, wrapping an arm around Drew and squeezing his arm lightly.

Exercise 2: Give Your Friend a Compliment

“I feel like we already did that,” Drew laughed, “but I can definitely find a couple more things to say.”

“I mean I guess I already said this, but Drew is really such an intelligent person,” Y/n gazed at Drew, “like not just book smart, but relationship, emotional smart. He’s very much in touch with all of that and is a very good gauge-r for people’s feelings.”

“Y/n is actually the funniest person I know and that’s not me being dramatic.” Drew grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as much with anyone else… definitely not to the point of nearly getting kicked out of a restaurant.”

Y/n laughed at the memory. The two of them had gone out for a nice dinner following wrapping on “Be My Mistake”, dressing up and sharing a couple drinks. However, their usual banter resulted in them laughing quite loudly for the duration of the meal. Shortly after their main courses had arrived, a waiter had come over telling them about how some guests were complaining about the two of them being disruptive, which only made them laugh louder. By some grace of god, however, they didn’t get asked to leave.

“It’s not my fault I’m hilarious.” Y/n said with a simple shrug, causing Drew to laugh.

Exercise 3: Fishbowl of Memories

“Oooh.” Drew said as y/n took the large fishbowl from one of the PAs. Inside, various scraps of paper filled the bowl, each with a question.

“I’ll let you have the honor of going first.” Y/n smiled, offering the bowl out to Drew. He dug inside, grabbing a slip of paper as y/n sat the bowl down on the table in front of them.

“What was the funniest blooper in this film?” Drew read before glancing over at y/n, a smirk on his face. Y/n gave him the same look back, the two of them thinking of the same moment.

“There was an… unfortunate incident in which I accidentally pantsed Drew.” Y/n said, trying her best to stifle her laughter. Drew nodded his head, a warm pink spreading across his cheeks.

“You might be thinking, how do you accidentally pants someone?” Drew teased, y/n folding her hands on the table in front of her dramatically.

“We were filming a scene where our characters were arguing and Drew turned to walk away, and I went to follow after him,” y/n explained. “However, I tripped over a rug and fell. I tried to catch myself on Drew, I was sort of grabbing at him, but only ended up getting his pants before I fell… the pants coming with unfortunately.”

“I really hope that that’s not on the blooper real.” Drew shook his head, rubbing a hand along his jaw.

“Oh, I’m sure the ladies would love to see Starkey in his tighty-whities. A real treat.” Y/n teased. Drew cringed, shoving at y/n’s shoulder before gesturing for her to pick a piece of paper from the bowl.

“What is your favorite memory with each other?” Y/n read, looking over at Drew as the two of them thought. They stared at each other in silence, both of their brows furrowing as they shuffled through an abundance of memories.

“I think I have mine.” Drew said, snapping his fingers before turning towards the camera.

“Ok, ok. Me too. Let’s see if we agree.” Y/n nodded, still facing Drew as she waited for him to speak.

“Mine is when we went to get tattoos and y/n passed out and I had to carry her out to the car because she was being so dramatic.” Drew laughed, his laughter growing even louder as y/n’s jaw dropped. She hit his arm lightly, groaning at the memory. 

“I wasn’t being dramatic I— ok, maybe I was but I was probably still hungover from the night before.” Y/n chuckled.

“Your turn.” Drew said, leaning to rest his elbows on the table and his chin in his palms in faux overinterest.

“My favorite memory is when we sang Wicked at some karaoke bar and it was so bad that people started booing us.” Y/n laughed. They had gone out with the rest of the cast to a karaoke bar down the street from where they had been shooting. Later in the night, after a couple of drinks, Drew and y/n decided it would be a good idea to sing “Defying Gravity”. Neither of them being singers, nor anywhere talented enough for the numerous high notes, the regular patrons of the bar began booing and cringing at their attempt at the notoriously difficult to sing song.

“‘Please for the love of god stop’.” Drew recited one of the patrons’ comments, causing y/n to throw her head back laughing.

“Wow, jeez. That was a deep cut.” Y/n straightened herself back up, smoothing out the  front of her dress. Drew threw an arm over her shoulders, bringing her to his side.

“I think we passed. I think we’re friends, right?” Drew shook y/n playfully, who just let out a sarcastic groan.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Y/n gave in, wrapping her arm around Drew’s torso and hugging him lightly.

You’re pulled from your dirty thoughts by a question coming from the man you’re daydreaming about. Tom walks into the kitchen, raising a hand in greeting as he peers down at the package you’re holding. His deep brown eyes meet with yours as you smile at him in greeting.

“Just some clothes. I’m doing a brand deal and they want me to take some pictures and post them on my Instagram,” you explain. You put the package down on the kitchen table and carefully begin to cut along the seam.

“Getting that money, eh?” You laugh as Tom slips into a chair beside you, watching you curiously with his chin resting in his hands.

“A girl’s gotta make a living,” you reply. “Hey, do you think Harry would take some shots for me? It’s always hard to get the angles right.”

Tom hums beneath his breath. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d be down for that. He and Harrison are out at the moment, though, so you’ll need to wait-“ He falls silent as you tip the contents of the package onto the table, your cheeks warming immediately as you take in the garments you’ve been sent.

Lingerie. Several different pairs of matching bras and panty sets, in a scattering of different colours and designs. You feel your heart beat faster in your chest as Tom stares down at the pieces, his own face blushing a deep red.

“I think Harry might die if I make him take photos of me whilst I’m wearing this,” you admit, picking up a red lacy bralette. Tom’s younger brother has always been nice to you, but he radiates the sort of nervous energy that can sometimes put you on edge, and you immediately know you can’t ask him to photograph you. “Guess I’ll just have to struggle through this by myself,” you mutter dejectedly.

Tom’s eyebrows raise as he looks between you and the lace in your fingers, realisation replacing his shock. He sits up straight, stretching out his arms and his biceps flex as he meets your gaze. “I can always help you,” he offers shyly. You meet his eyes and his tongue slips out to wet his lower lip.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’m not as good as Harry, but I like to think I’ve picked up a few of his tricks.” Tom reaches out, fingers connecting with the tops of your arms, and your breath hitches as he grins cheekily. “Besides, I’m sure I could help you with some of your angles. If you want, of course.”

The question hangs in the air. As his fingers gently trace over your upper arm, you know this is the opportunity to back out. He’s looking at you through heated, brown eyes, but you know he’ll leave it alone if you decide to draw the line here and maintain the professional distance you’ve been slowly narrowing. But you don’t want to, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by a longing for him to keep touching you, and the idea of him photographing you as you lounge around in this new, sexy lingerie sets your heart racing.

“I’d love that, Tom. Are you free just now?”

He nods quickly, the tips of his curly brown hair wafting in the air. “Definitely.”

[-----]

It takes you about twenty minutes to get ready for the shoot. You’ve been around in Hollywood for long enough to know how best to do your makeup and tie your hair, and much to your relief, the lingerie clings to you perfectly. The contract you’d signed states you only have to post photos in one of the sets, so you pick one with a nice, deep burgundy hue and then walk out into your bedroom where Tom’s waiting for you. His wide eyes fall on you and suddenly you get a little self-conscious, reaching up to cross your arms over your chest as his gaze slides up and down your figure, drifting over every inch of exposed skin. When he drags his eyes back to your face and gives you a bit of a smirk, a shiver rolls down your spine.

“You look stunning,” Tom says, voice hoarse. He clears his throat quickly, averting his eyes as his cheeks gain a healthy colour. “Really, Y/N… You look amazing.”

His compliments bring a smile to your face, and you carefully put your hands back to your sides. You feel tentative and shy, but you approach him anyway and pass him your phone. “Thanks, Tom,” you mumble, meeting his eyes quickly. “Um, I was thinking you can just get a few of me the window, and then after that, maybe a couple on the bed.”

“Sounds great.”

You hesitate for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he chuckles lowly. “I don’t mind at all, Y/N. There are worse things to do than take photos of a pretty girl like you.” You bite your lower lip as you smile bashfully at him. 

“Okay,” you say. You move over to the window before adding a quick, “I will pay you back, Tom.” You punctuate your promise with a wink, and then turn around and try out a few positions against the window.

Tom gives you a few pointers as he starts to capture your shots. You know what you’re doing, but his advice helps you twist and angle yourself in the most flattering ways. The main focus has to be on the sponsored lace clinging to your chest, and as time goes by and he gradually moves nearer and nearer to you, your thoughts grow darker. You’d be lying if you said the seductive smiles and soft angles you’re throwing out are just for Instagram. It makes your heart race and a heat build between your legs to have him watching you so intently, occasionally chewing on his lower lip as he works. When you turn around and face the window directly, you arch your back purposefully and you can feel his stare hot on the curve of your ass, and as you throw your head back over your shoulder to meet his flushed face, you know you’ve caught him right in the act of checking you out.

“How are the photos?” You ask, breaking the charged silence after a few moments of sustained, intense eye contact. You relax your position as Tom steps nearer and passes back your phone, but he lingers by your side before draping a hand over your back. His hand rests on your naked hip, his touch gentle but it causes you to push into him greedily. He’s warm and he smells like pine trees and man, and your body is thrumming with so much sexual energy that you can feel your lace panties dampening.

“You look unreal,” he says, watching over your shoulder as you flick through the photos. “I’m not even sure they do justice to how incredible you look right now.”

You smile gratefully, favouriting a few of the shots. “You know, I think we’ve got as many as we need, actually. You did a really good job, Tom. Thank you.” You put your phone on the windowsill and turn to look at him properly. When his hand goes to slip from your waist, you reach down and grab at it, pushing it back into place firmly. His eyes meet yours, a curious questioning mixing with the dark lust, and you give him a smirk. “I know you liked watching me.” Your gaze briefly dips down to his crotch, and the way you can see the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. Emboldened, you lean up and brush your lips by his ear, “If you want me, you can just tell me.”

You keep your lips by his ear. When he reaches up and wraps his other hand around your waist and pulls you closer, you let your mouth drag down his neck, pressing soft, light kisses to his pale skin. You keep going until he whines, and then you suck against his sweet spot and nibble at the skin, teasing him gently until he wraps his fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face up to look at him.

“You’re such a tease, you know that, love?” He speaks, voice dropping an octave. His eyes are on your lips and the deep red lipstick you’ve coated them with, a burning fire dancing in his eyes. “Walking in here with all that lingerie, kissing my neck like that.” His fingers move from your chin and up to cup your cheek. “I want you,” he whispers, mouth brushing yours ever so slightly. The confirmation makes you wrap your arms around his neck, and you place a kiss just beside his mouth, grinning softly.

“Then have me.”

His mouth captures yours in a heated collision of lips and teeth, and you moan into his mouth as his hand slips back into your hair and tugs at your strands. His hot tongue slips into your mouth as you kiss him back passionately, your body burning from all the pent-up frustration you’ve been pushing back for weeks. The hand on your waist slips up to your back, holding you flush against him as his groans, his face flushed and his forehead sweaty, and your core throbs as you hold him close to you.

Tom breaks the kiss after a few mind-numbing minutes, and you know you’ve got lipstick smudged over your face, but you don’t care as he leads you over to the bed. You straddle his waist as he sits up against the headboard, his hungry hands trailing over every part of your exposed skin as your heart rate spikes. His thighs are firm and you can’t help but grind down against one of them as he pulls your mouths together again. The friction you get through your wet panties from his tough black jeans makes you whimper into his mouth, and he pulls back with a lazy smirk on his face, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“You’re so bloody hot,” he murmurs, hand brushing over your arm. “Can’t believe you’re here right now, looking like this. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He leaves a few soft kisses to your shoulder, gazing up at you softly, his brown curls strewn messily across his forehead. Your heart skips a beat. 

You run a fond hand through his curls before pulling at the hem of his t-shirt. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.” Tom laughs but holds up his arms as you pull it up and over his head, and then you roll from his lap as he wiggles out of his tight jeans and throws him aside. He pulls you back to his lap, this time positioning you so your centre rests over his black Calvin Kleins, and you rock down to feel his length pressing up against the fabric. “Shit, Tom,” you curse, the pressure sending rolls of pleasure through your clit. Your forehead falls to his as his hands move your hips, helping you grind against him as both of you feel a little relief. “I want you so bad.”

Tom moves quickly, flipping the position until you’re the one on your back, your head nestled in the soft pillows, and he’s pressed over you, caging you in with a strong arm either side of your head. He catches your lips in another kiss, and when he pulls back, he lets his teeth tug at your lower lip, catching your moan in his open mouth.

“Can I take these off?” He asks, pulling at the waistband of your red panties. You nod quickly and raise your hips as he tugs them down your body, his large hands pressing your thighs up and apart as he settles between your legs, his eyes drifting down your slippy slit. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re absolutely soaked for me.” He drags a light finger through your folds, applying a very light, very teasing pressure to your clit, and it makes you grind down against him. “So fucking needy,” he coos, finally rubbing your tender bud with a little more pressure. As you gasp and fist your fingers in his hair, he moves his face nearer your core. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a cunt this wet and hot for me. Mind if I have a taste, darling?”

His filthy words make your body shake, and the moment you’ve nodded your head, your back arches from the mattress as his soft, warm tongue slips out and wraps around your bud. One of his hands anchors your hips to the bed as the other accompanies his mouth on your core, and you moan loudly as he slips two sturdy fingers into your wet, aching entrance. It feels unbelievable to have Tom pressed between your legs, his fingers curling and pounding into your heat in a way that makes you cry out loudly. And his mouth - oh, god, his mouth - is unbelievable. You can tell he’s enjoying it by the way he works his tongue so smoothly, teasing lightly through your wet folds before circling back to your bud, kissing it and lapping over it and sucking it until you’re a sweaty, delirious mess above him.

Your fingers ache from the hold you’ve got on his hair, and you suck in a breath as you feel your edge approaching. “God, Tom, you’re so fucking good at that. I’m gonna cum if you keep it up.”

For a wonderful moment, you think he’s gonna keep going. He’s got his fingers pressed flush against your sweet spot and it feels so amazing that you’re about to melt, but then he smacks his lips and pulls back, leaving you high and dry and panting desperately on the sheets.

“Oh, what was that? You were gonna cum?”

You blink desperately down at him, surprised to see him looking up at you so confidently, with that teasing smirk dancing over his face. “Tom, I swear to god, you’re such a dick-”

“Shh.” He reaches up and drags his messy fingers over your mouth, and you part your lips to let them in. You swirl your tongue over his digits, humming lightly as you suck off your tangy juices, his eyes watching you darkly. It feels so dirty, but it sends a thrill down your spine, and your core continues to throb as you pull at his shoulders and bring him back up to you. “I think it’s only fair that we cum at the same time, princess? Don’t you?” He whispers. 

You release his fingers with a pop, sighing frustratedly as you trail your hands down his toned front. His muscles pull taut and tense, and as you grab a peek at the lines of his abs, you find yourself wondering how you ended up like this with him. He’s so handsome it makes you ache, and it’s as if he can hear your thoughts as he presses a few kisses to your jaw.

“And you call me a tease,” you respond, eyelids fluttering shut as he drags his mouth over your neck. “Stop messing around and fuck me, Tom.”

“Mm, so demanding.”

You grab at his hair and tug his face away from your collarbones and up to your mouth, kissing him hard. “I need you,” you whisper hurriedly against his lips. “I’m going to explode if you don’t fuck me.”

His lips pull into a warm smile. “Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” He replies. “Condom?” You point at the bedside table and he disappears for a few moments, leaving your body cold and empty. Once he’s procured a shiny silver packet, you watch with wide, hungry eyes as he pulls off his boxers, pumps his length a few times, and then rolls this plastic over his tip before you even get a chance to touch him. He notices your pout and bites his lower lip as he moves back over you. “You can touch me next time,” he promises. “Right now, I just want to be with you.”

“Next time?” You mumble, your lips going to his ear as he pushes your thighs apart. You kiss his lobe softly, dragging your teeth over his skin until he whines. 

“If you want there to be a next time, of course,” he adds. You make brief eye contact as your heart pangs in your chest, but then you find yourself distracted as his cock rubs through your aching slit and you curse, gripping his shoulder hard.

“I definitely want there to be a next time,” you promise. His tip prods at your entrance and it takes everything in you to keep back a whine. “Now, please, Tom, let me feel you.”

He presses a small kiss to your lips, and then follows through with your request. Your fingers dig into his arms as his length fills you completely and deeply, your jaw falling slack as you moan loudly.

“You’re so wet for me, love. Feels so good around me-” Tom’s voice breaks into a groan as his hips meet yours, finally in as far as possible. “Fuck, wish I could stay like this forever.”

You scatter a series of hot, breathy kisses to his forehead as you adjust to him, before running a hand over his shoulder and nodding certainly. “You can move now,” you say.

He rocks into you gently, exploring your hot heat with care as his hands move all over you. One moment he’s gripping at the lace on your boobs, the next he’s got his fingers slipping over your hard nipples, and after that he’s pulling on your hair. All whilst his cock pushes into you, gradually growing more fervent, your soaking pussy welcoming him in easily. Your groans mix with his as you cling to him, your entire body shaking from the tension building in your body as he fucks you hard and fast.

“I love your pussy,” he rasps, teeth digging into your skin as his sweaty forehead rests on your shoulder. With every thrust, he adjusts the angle, only settling into a proper pace as he hits your special spot and you moan loudly, raking your fingers down his back. “So fucking perfect, baby.” His mouth drops praises all over you and it just makes you feel even more into it as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts.

“You fuck me so well, Tom,” you groan into his hair. The muscles in his back ripple beneath your touch as he fucks you roughly. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.”

He manages to keep himself supported on one arm as the other slips down, his hand roaming between your bodies to find your pulsing bud. As he rubs over your trembling clit, you feel your orgasm build quickly in the pit of your stomach, everywhere feeling alert and hot and needy as you pull him closer.

“Mmm, you gonna cum for me, Y/N? Let me feel you clenching around me as you scream my name?” His voice is dirty and dark and the way his lips curl around your name makes you clench tightly. “C’mon, let go. I’ve got you.”

And he rolls his hips against you just as his fingers rub your clit, and it’s so deliciously hot that your head rolls back and your orgasm peaks. Your chest heaves, the lace wrapped around your breasts pushing up against Tom’s hot chest as you cum noisily, your body tingling as a pulsing warmth spreads out from your centre. Tom grunts and screws his eyes shut as you clench and squirm beneath him, and a few moments later you feel his rhythm falter as he reaches his peak too. You rock together as your highs mix and build, your hair sticking to your face as your moans turn to whimpers and your grip on his arm relaxes, and when he pulls out, you’re left feeling empty but satisfied. You breathe deeply as Tom collapses beside you on his side, his hand grabbing at yours as his eyes find yours, searching your face carefully.

“Wow,” is all you manage to say. You shiver from the pleasurable aftershocks, your body feeling light and tingly and completely fucked out, and when Tom pulls you nearer, you let him hold you in a hug against his hot chest, feeling happily settled in his embrace. “Anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

Tom laughs gently, his hand pushing your hair from your face which allows him to kiss you again. It’s softer now, not burning quite as fiercely as it had before, but it’s still unbelievably nice to have him this close to you, loving on you so tenderly. “You really are something else, love,” he compliments. His eyes sparkle brightly as he squeezes your hand. “And I wasn’t lying earlier, I really would be down to do this again.”

He looks vulnerable and nervous for a second, but you quickly smooth away his nerves as you kiss him softly, gripping at the back of his neck. Your lips fit perfectly together, and it’s as if everything has finally slotted into place as you admit, “I would be more than happy to do this again, Tom. Maybe you can even take me on a date.”

His entire face seems to light up, and he leaves a quick kiss on your cheek as he grins. “I would love that, darling.”

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A few hours later…

[@yourusername has posted a new photo]

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@yourusername: good things come to those who wait...

Comments:

@tomholland2013: 🔥🔥🔥

@fan1: omg do u guys think they’re dating

@fan2: why has she tagged tom on her chest like that

@fan3: omg i ship it

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any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

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