Champagne Bubbles - After Joost’s tour you go on a short trip out of the city. The house has a nice Surprise in the backyard (SMUT ,+18)
Enfant terrible - You and Joost went to school together and have known each other since you were kids. You had a crush on him all throughout high school. After graduation, you left for university but when you come back to your hometown for summer break, you run into him at a party and finally confess your feelings
Wicked games - you and Joost were friends with benefits. But it was dragged on for too long and turned into something much more toxic (+18, SMUT)
Wicked Games - part II - Let Me love You - Two months after you last saw each other, Joost shows up at your door, completely drunk. The timing couldn’t be worse.
Out of the blue - You, your friends and Joost went on a trip to Japan together - your friends constantly make jokes about you two being in love, so you start considering whether you actually like him. (+18, SMUT)
Glimpse of us - series
You and Joost used to date, but the relationship ended - badly. You hooked up a few times after the breakup, but then he ghosted you. You realize you might be a little more in love than he is.
Part 1 - Glimpse of us
Part 2 - 1 step forward, 3 steps back
Part 3 - Pillowtalk (+18, SMUT)
Part 4 - No tears left to cry
Glimpse of us - sequel - Now is a good time - Three years after you and Joost said your goodbyes on the stairs outside your apartment, you watch his dream being taken away from him, and decide to break no-contact. It reawakens the feelings you were sure were gone.
Crossing Lines - Series
Part 1 - Just Friends - You moved to the city to live with your boyfriend, but you’re disappointed in his behavior and your life together. One night, after a concert you meet Joost - and he changes your perspective on the city and your relationship.
Part 2 - The Guilt - After Joost’s confession you’re having a hard time deciding what to do. Your boyfriend wants to meet your new friends - which is the last thing you want now
Part 3 - The Choice - A fight that follows your boyfriend's meeting with Joost forces you to make a choice
Part 4 - Say it - After the kiss on the balcony you enter the apartment and it ends as expected and you cross the last line. (SMUT, +18)
Summervibes - You and Joost meet at the festival and decide to spend the evening and the night together. (+18, SMUT)
Author’s note: just a smut with very little plot. Enjoy!
WARNING!!! EXPLICIT RPF BELOW!!! MINORS DNI
You loved watching Joost on tour. The way he transformed the moment he stepped on stage, his charisma, the crowd going absolutely wild and shouting his lyrics word for word, it was an experience like no other. He lived that way in every part of his life — throwing himself completely into whatever he did, no hesitation.
He loved you watching it too — you could see how much energy the love from his fans gave him. You saw how he poured his heart and soul into every moment, using every second he had. He was truly meant to be an artist.
But there was something you both loved even more — the time right after the tour. He always wanted to use it to relax, so you’d go on a trip, spend lazy days at home eating takeout, making love and just enjoying each other’s company. You loved being his peace — something he definitely needed after the chaos of life on a tourbus, and he loved finally being able to give all of his time to you, with no distractions.
This time, after his biggest tour yet, and after his popularity had reached a new level, you both decided to disappear for a while, and stay in a small house in the mountains for a few days. You knew his face was much more recognizable now, so he wanted to avoid being noticed and spending his energy on anyone but you. What you both wanted was simple — just the two of you, beautiful views, a comfy bed, and a fireplace. It felt like the best thing in the world, exactly what you both needed.
So when you get there from the airport and start unpacking the bags from the back of the taxi you almost gasp.
You’re surrounded by a quiet forrest, and although you know there are a few other houses nearby, they’re hidden well enough that it feels like it’s just the two of you in the world. The house itself is small, between the trees, but it looks so cozy that you can’t wait to step in.
“It’s so nice.” you say to Joost, unable to hide the excitement in your voice. You know this is exactly what he wanted.
He steps out as well and comes over, taking the bag from your hand and setting it down for a moment, so he can wrap an arm around your back. His arm sleeps around your back, his body warm against yours. He always gets a little extra clingy after a tour, it’s his way of making up for all the time apart, a reminder of how much he missed you.
“Exactly what I needed after that crazy month. Just you, me, and no one recognizing me.” He smiles, leans in, and presses a soft kiss to your temple, and you melt into him instantly, trying to tuck yourself even closer against his chest. Moments like this always make you appreciate his height, the way he can fold you into him so easily, like you’re meant to fit there.
“Let’s go see inside.” You take him by the hand, and he picks up both bags — his and yours, while you grab the key from the spot you were told about and open the door. You’re really glad you don’t have to check in or talk to anyone — it’s just you and him.
The apartment isn’t big — it’s a wooden house with a living room, one bedroom, a kitchen and a small bathroom. But that’s more than enough for a short getaway out of the city. Still, the best part waits out back.
In the back there’s a small backyard with an incredible view of the forest and mountains, and a huge outdoor bathtub with a jacuzzi. A tall table sits nearby, perfect for leaving your snacks, wine, or whatever else you decide to bring with you. It feels private, peaceful. Perfect.
“Can’t wait to try this one” you whisper in his ear, and give him a quick wink. He knows exactly what that wink means, and you are sure the same pictures crossed his mind when he saw the tub.
You look around, checking the details against the message the owner sent, opening a few drawers, testing the light switches. But to be honest — you’re just waiting for the evening — you already know what it’s going to bring.
You spend the rest of the afternoon getting everything ready — slicing up snacks, unpacking your things and taking a quick shower, while he starts to fill up the hot tub.
You take a quick look at yourself in the mirror, wearing nothing but a bathrobe. You feel exceptionally attractive — you don’t know if you actually look better than ever, or if it’s the place, or maybe it’s the number of complements he’s given you today, but you’re in an excellent mood. Downstairs, you can hear him moving around, carrying the wine and the food you bought together out to the backyard.
You go down, and stop in the doorway, leaning against the frame teasingly. You watch him for a long minute, his fingers running casually through his hair as he sets the bottle down on the table.
“Hi” your voice low, but enough to catch his attention. He turns and you look at him from under your lashes, a slow, teasing smile curving at the corner of your lips.
You need him to look at you with that hungry expression you’ve seen on his face before — that i-could-devour-you look that makes your knees week and your breath catch.
He’s standing there, in just shorts and flip flops, nothing else, and somehow, he couldn’t look any better to you. Just looking at him makes your stomach twist with a mix of nerves and excitement. Are you going crazy? Or is he really that hot?
He looks at you — exactly the way you wanted. His eyes darken, as they trace over you, taking in every detail. You know he’s imagining what’s beneath the bathrobe, even though he’s seen you naked a thousand times before.
He reaches out a hand, and you step closer and take it.
“You’re so hot” he whispers, his large hand sliding to your waist. He pulls you even closer leaving a gentle kiss on your lips. You feel like the temperature around you has suddenly risen a few degrees, but it’s just your body reacting to his every touch. “I can’t wait to see whats under this bathrobe.” He whispers right into your mouth, while you play with his soft, fluffy hair just above the nape of his neck.
“There’s absolutely nothing underneath.” You whisper, feeling your heart start to beat faster. “no swimsuit, no underwear… just my body, as a gift to you.”
You feel your heart almost bursting out of your chest, and your whole body is shaking slightly with excitement and anticipation for what is about to happen. It’s been a long time since you met, but each time with him was still like the first time — the excitement, the strong emotion, the craving is unmatched.
“Yeah?” He asks, teasingly playing with the belt of the bathrobe. “Can I peak a little?” His voice is lower, and quieter, as if he was asking something absolutely forbidden. You touch his chest with one hand.
“I don’t know…” you whisper, as his other hand reaches for your exposed thigh. His fingers gently tickle your skin, lifting the material of your bathrobe just a little, but enough to send goosebumps up your skin. He fees it — the smile on his face tells you everything you need to know. He loves it — the teasing, observing your reactions, watching how your body reacts to him, how you melt under his touch.
“You have to take it off If you want to get into the tub.” he lifts one brow up teasingly, nodding towards the tub. You lick your lips. Just his voice already does… something inside you.
You look at the bathtub, which is already filled with bubbling water. It looks warm and inviting. The cool night breeze makes you want to get into the warm, pleasant water even more. Especially when you notice a bottle of champagne and the snacks prepared earlier on the table.
You’re torn between entering the water and continuing to tease him — both options seem equally tempting. Your eyes slide from the hot tub to his sparkling eyes and then his parted lips, but before you can make any decision, he says:
“Open your mouth.” His voice is quiet but far from hesitant. It sounds like a command, and the grip on your waist only confirms it.
You look at him, surprised by the sudden request, but you open your mouth and he slides one of the fruits into your mouth, touching your upper lip with the tip of his finger as he does so.
“Oh.” You say after you’ve swallowed. “I thought you were going to put something else in my mouth.” You say, smiling cheekily. You lick your lips, in a much more obscene way than necessary, never taking your eyes off his face.
“So impatient… I saved that for later.” His fingers find the knot on your bathrobe again. “Will you finally take it off, or fo I have to tear it to pieces?” His fingers slip beneath the hem of your bathrobe, moving up and down, revealing just a tiny bit of your naked body. Only this piece makes his eyes shine even brighter in the low light.
You roll your eyes theatrically, grabbing the edge of your robe and covering the exposed part of your body again and repeating after him:
“So impatient!” Your try to hide how full of excitement you are, but you know you can’t — in fact, you can’t wait just as much as he does.
You undo the knot on the rope, but you don’t take it off — you’re not done teasing him and you know that with every step you take, you’re driving him even more crazy. You slide it down one shoulder, revealing more and more skin with each passing second, stopping just above your breast. You could swear you hear a soft groan of dissatisfaction escaping his lips. You see his gaze follows your fingers, which are now hooked on the edges of your untied bathrobe. You open it up a little more, but only a little, so he can only see the space between your breasts and your belly button. Then you stop and lift your head to look at him. You know you’ll see endless desire in his eyes.
“You’re killing me” he whispers, shaking his head. “Take it off. Stop teasing.” he puts his hands on the soft fabric, but as soon as he does it, you tie it again with an expression as if you wanted to punish him.
“So impatient” you pout, placing one of your hands on his cheek. “Good things require patience.” Your fingers reach for the hem of his shorts and you teasingly trace along it, from one hip to another. You tuck your lower lip between your teeth, then turn and leave him standing as you reach for one of the strawberries from the table, pretending to focus on it — though you can still feel his eyes on you the entire time.
You move closer to the bathtub, and knowing that he is not expecting that — you take off your robe in one quick movement. Then, completely naked, leaning on the edge of the hot tub, you look at him and ask:
“Well, are you coming, or not?” You slide into the tub, feeling the hot, bubbling water envelop your naked body. It’s a pleasant feeling, a complete contrast to the cold night air, but your body is already waiting for a completely different kind of warmth that will soon spread in your lower abdomen.
“If i ever say no to that question, call the police because that would mean I’ve been cloned and replaced with someone else. You know, like Avril Lavigne.” He shakes his head with a laugh. It never stops to amaze you how hot but also how chronically online he is.
You chuckle, as he takes off his shorts along with his underwear, making you bite your lower lip again. You are exactly like him, you are just as impressed by him as he is by you. No matter how many times you see him naked, your body’s reaction is always the same. He takes the bucket with ice and champagne, sets it on the table next to the tub, and pours Champagne into two glasses before joining you. When he sits beside you, you can feel the warmth of his body even through the steam rising from the water. You want to reach out and touch him, but you also don’t want this night to end — so you don’t want to just throw yourself at him, knowing that this magical evening will end much faster than you’d like.
“Are we gonna make a toast? A wish?” You smile, holding your glass just above your head, to keep the water from getting in. The steam curls around the both of you, making this moment even more special.
“Yes. To me seeing you naked more often.” He says, raising his glass higher, his face lit up like he’s just said the smartest thing in the world. You laugh and shake your head — sometimes, beneath all the confidence and charm, you can still see that boyish, teenage youtuber in him. And you love it just as much.
“Oh, i will drink to that!” You smile, clinking your glass against his. You take a few sips of the cold, sparkling wine, before setting the glass back on the table. The chill of the drink is a perfect contrast to the warmth of the water — and to the heat radiating from both your skin and his. You needed that to — an escape from reality.
“So…” you whisper into his ear “it’s getting really hot in this tub.” You dramatically wipe the sweat from your forehead, moving up just a little above the waterline, so that your tits are visible for him. And oh, don’t they look amazing in this setting. You know exactly what to do to make him want you even more. You catch his quick gaze moving over your water-slicked body. You can’t help but smile with satisfaction. He falls for your tricks every time, and you can’t help but love how easy it still is to catch him off guard.
“I see you’re really, really in the teasing mood today.” He shakes his head, but before you can reply, his both hands find your waist, drawing you gently towards him until you’re on his lap, face to face. His eyes move again to your boobs, his one hand reaching to your nipple.
Finally, it begins — the moment you’ve both been circling around all day.
“You don’t like it?” You ask, your voice unsteady at the end, as the sensation of his thumb against your skin makes all kinds of emotions blooming inside you.
“Oh, i do…” he smiles. “But you know what I like even more?” His thumb plays with your nipple, which immediately hardens under his touch. The other hand grips your waist so tightly, like he thinks you’re planning to run away and he needs to hold you in place. Now he won’t let you play games or tease him anymore. He has you in all your glory, and all to himself.
You feel the tension between the two of you growing thicker, and you can’t help yourself, and rub your crotch once against his thigh. The feeling is a little less intense, soften by the water, but you can still feel the muscles in his thigh tense. You move again, back and forth, this time pressing tighter against his muscle.
“Yes, baby. Exactly make yourself ready for me.” He smiles, his face just an inch away. Then his lips meet yours in a deep, heated kiss. The sounds of the night forrest, and the gentle bubbling of the water make the perfect soundtrack for that moment. His hand goes to your other nipple, rubbing and pulling both of them now, then he squeezes the breast in his hands like it was exactly made to fit them. You feel so good already, your breath becomes heavier as you lift your hips slightly, only to lower them again and rub against his thigh again. A soft sigh leaves your lips and you grip his shoulder, closing your eyes. You’re about to do it again, and again when he pulls his leg away and the unpleasant surprise makes you grind against nothing. You can’t help but groan in dissatisfaction at the lack of friction, but it only brings a smug smile to his face. He can’t pass up any opportunity to see how much you want him. Not someone else - him.
“Who’s teasing who now?” He whispers, brushing his lips against yours, but before he kisses you, he grabs you firmly by the waist with both hands and sits you back on his thigh. His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly. He starts moving you, setting a rhythm of you rubbing against his thigh. You get it. He wants to be in charge. He wants to be the one that gives you this pleasure. His fingers are digging into your sensitive skin, but it’s a kind of pain that you actually like.
“You like that, huh?” He murmurs in that low voice of his — the one he knows drives you crazy, the same tone he uses on stage. Like other things he sometimes does on stage on purpose, knowing that you’re watching him from the backstage, rubbing your legs together, waiting for him to come and fuck you in a small bathroom or his dressing room. You don’t even want to think about how many questionable places you’ve done it in, unable to stop yourself until you get back to the hotel. “My little slut.” He smiles. “Just my leg is enough to turn you on.” He’s so proud of himself. And he should.
You bite your lip, half embarrassed by how true his words are, half aroused by the way he talks to you, the way he moves and the way he looks. You know your body is reacting even more strongly after being apart for the past few weeks. And you enjoy every touch that you have missed so much these weeks.
He puts his hand on your pussy, and taps it a few times. Not expecting such a move, a shiver runs through your spine and a quiet moan falls from your lips.
“I will take care of this in a minute.” He places his other hand on your cheek, then pulls you closer to kiss you again. This time more aggressively, pressing against your wet lips. His hand moves to your hair, and his every movement shows you how much he needs you here and now. When he finally breaks away from you for a moment, he whispers against your lips:
“But first, we have to do something about this heat…” you furrow your brows, having absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.
You don’t see where his hand is reaching, but he leaves your mouth for a moment, reaching behind him and looking in that direction. You squeeze his arm, as if you were afraid his lips would never return to yours, as if this were the end of what had begun so beautifully.
But it’s just a few seconds and he turns around and his lips reach your exposed collarbone.
But it’s not just his lips. The sensation almost takes your breath away. He holds an ice cube between his lips, sliding it along your collarbone and then your shoulder. The feeling is perfect — his warm, soft lips contrasting with the hard, slippery and cold ice cube. You sigh into his ear, focusing all your attention on his every movement, as he trails his lips down your chest. The ice quickly melts in his heated mouth, leaving a wet trail down your body.
“Joost… if you keep doing that I will come just from this.” You say, sighing softly. Your voice is already weak, and you haven’t done anything yet. You grab his forearm, not knowing whether you want to stop him or encourage him to do more.
He doesn’t respond — but he doesn’t stop either. You don’t want him to stop, but God, this feeling is almost too much to bear. You try to calm the fire he awakened in you, but you’re already too far gone. You’re going crazy over each movement of his lips. You want more, you want him to not leave a single milimeter of your body out, you want a trail of cool water to cover your entire body.
Finally the ice cube melts completely, and his lips, hovering over your breast, reach for your nipple to place a cool kiss on it.
“Does that feel good?” He whispers, and his lips reach a little higher, to your shoulder, to touch your skin there as well. His lips are still wet and cold from the ice cube.
Oh, and there’s that voice again. That low, sexy voice of his only adds to the fire already burning inside you.
“Yes.” You say, your own voice weak and slightly pathetic. You can hear the request for more in it. Or not, not a request — a plea. You don’t just want more. You need more.
“Sit on the edge of the tub.” He commands, and when you don’t do it, he grabs your waist with both hands to help you sit on the edge of the tub. He’s just as impatient as you. “Come on” you can see in his eyes that he already has a whole plan for how this night will go, and you have no choice but to listen to him.
You try to sit as comfortably as possible on the narrow edge of the bathtub. You feel the cold night air mixing with the warm steam rising from the surface of the hot tub water. He reaches for another ice cube and places it between his lips, then gently reaches it to the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. You already know what’s on his mind, and just the anticipation of it makes you bite your lip almost until it bleeds. You’re not ready for what hes about to do, but at the same time, you’ve never been more ready.
He places both hands on your knees, forcing you to open your legs further. You look at him, biting your lip. He uses one hand to brush away the wet hair sticking to his face and adjust the ice cube in his mouth, then reaches his lips to your thigh again, this time higher, where the skin is even more sensitive. His icy lips contrast with your warm, wet thighs and make your skin break out in goosebumps under his touch. You grip the edge of the tub tightly in your hands, taking deep breath after deep breath as his lips move higher and higher. There are no words to describe what you feel inside. Each of his movements brings more sensation than the last. You feel yourself melting just like the cube in his mouth, which is now getting dangerously close to your crotch.
You know where this is going, and you really hope the intensity of the upcoming sensations doesn’t make you fall of the edge of the tub.
His lips come closer to your hand, making both your breath and your heart quicken.You run your wet fingers through your own hair, and look down biting your lips even though you know perfectly well that the sight alone could knock you off your feet. You see his lips slowly moving, his light, damp hair sticking to the back of his neck, his fingers tightening around your neck. He doesn’t look at you — he’s too busy intensifying your pleasure. You admire him, you want to tangle your fingers in his soft hair, but you’re afraid that when his lips finally reach their target you’ll lose your balance and fall, so you cling to the edge of the tub.
His lips continue to move, making you sigh here and there, until he finally drops the ice cube into the water, unable to wait any longer. His icy lips reach your clit and your body moves completely uncontrollably, your fingers gripping the edge of the tub even tighter.
“Oh God” you whisper, tilting your head back. His wet, cold tongue sends a shot of pleasure through your body.
Your fingers reach for his blonde hair. You lower your head to look at him, wanting to see his head move, his fingers tightening on your thighs. His fingertips go white from how hard he presses them into the soft skin of your thighs. You lick your lips. You wish he could stay like this forever, doing what he’s doing now. His tongue slides up and down your slit, as you try to relax and let go of the pressure you put on the edge of the tub.
Oh, how good this feels. You don’t know you’ll ever be able to let him go on tour alone again. From now on, he’ll have to do this with his lips every day.
He finds your sweet spot and gently nudges it with his tongue. You slide down the tub a little, completely losing your ability to sit upright. That’s more than sure — you won’t be able to take it in that position. It’s too much — too much emotion, too much sensation, too much of him — too much to be able to keep sitting like this.
“Hold on to my shoulder” he says quickly, pausing for a short moment, but then immediately returning his tongue to where it belongs.
“Mhh” something leaves your mouth, but you can’t call it a word. Your mind is completely blank, you can’t form any sensible thought that would be anything other than delight at what his tongue is doing between your legs right now.
You grip his shoulder with your fingers, trying to regain your balance. Still, focusing on squeezing his arm feels like too much work for your bliss-soaked mind right now.
His tongue keeps going through your folds, and you try to focus on not falling from the edge of the tub, while at the same time enjoying the pleasure that permeates you, but your position makes it difficult for you to completely surrender to the pleasure and let him bring you to climax.
“Relax, baby” he says, lifting his head. “You’re not gonna fall.” He looks at you from between your legs — that’s where you like to see him the most.
Well… also above you.
Or in front of you…
Anywhere, to be very honest.
You put your hand on his cheek, still unable to say anything coherent.
“Or do you want me to fuck you already?” He says, smiling, leaving another small kiss on your thigh, then lightly nipping the skin of your thigh. He can’t tear his lips away from your body for even a moment today.
You nod your head, and he slowly stands up, though he seems a little dissatisfied that his lips didn’t manage to bring you to an orgasm. He helps you change your position. He bends you over the edge of the hot tub. This sudden reverse of dominance makes you even more horny.
For a short while, he does nothing, completely captivated by the way your body looks against the water. Bubbles dance around your butt cheeks, and he just stands there, unable to take his eyes away. He could write a whole song about how perfect your ass is. and that water sound in the background could be the beat. He’d like to remember this idea after tonight is over.
“Ekhm” you remind him of what he should be doing, breaking him out of his fantasies. Although, if you knew what he was fantasizing about, maybe your reaction would be different.
“Right” he says, but he doesn’t come closer to you or grab your waist. “Give me a minute. I’m really thirsty.” You look back to see why it’s taking so long and you see him grabbing the half-empty bottle of champagne from the table. Before you know what he’s about to do, he lifts the bottle up and pours some of the champagne onto your back and your butt.
“You’re insane! I see that you really missed while you were on tour.” you laugh, as you feel his lips on your lower back, just above your ass, then his tongue licking the alcohol from your body. “are we shooting a music video today?” You don’t stop giggling. Sometimes it’s amazing how your thoughts revolve around similar topics — even though you’re both ashamed to admit it.
“I would never let anyone watch it. No one deserves this view. Even I don’t deserve it.”
“You’re crazy” you chuckle as you feel his lips on your butt cheeks. “Does it taste better this way?”
“Of course it fucking does. You taste better than anything in the world.” He says, his lips still a few inches from your body, and you feel a blush creep up your cheeks. Finally, he grabs your waist with both hands and straightens up.
His hand reaches to your clit, now incredibly wet, and not from the hot tub water. You can almost sense the huge smile appearing on his face.
“So fucking hot” he leans down and whispers in your ear, pushing your hair over one shoulder so he can have better access to your neck. “I wish I could do this every day” his hand grabs the back of your neck, his fingers tightening slightly at your sides, making you bend over even more.
He breathes out and you can feel his fingers tighten around your neck even more. You feel the familiar feeling in your stomach, you can’t help it, but when he becomes so bold and dominant with you like this it turns you on so much it’s hard to stand still. You arch your back giving him better access to your body, as you finally feel him sliding inside you. The way he presses against you, how close his wet body is to you, and his warm breath next to your ear only make it even better. You completely forget about the world around you. Now it’s just you and him.
“So good” you whisper, as he pushes himself deeper. You tilt your head back, but his fingers on your neck push you down.
“What? Speak louder, princess.” He speaks still with the same low, sexy voice.
“So good.” You say again, trying to speak louder, but your voice breaks at the end from the overload of emotion. You close your eyes, feeling him moving. The warm water splashes against your thighs and your stomach, and feel his hand loosen the grip on your neck and then moving to your hip. He lifts his other hand to sleep your butt with a loud smak amplified by the water.
He speeds up his movements, giving you the rhythm. You move your hips along, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the water splashing fills the silence around you, covering up your soft moans.
You hear him gasp for breath and swear quietly, as you arch your back even further, allowing him to enjoy the view even more. Your hands grip the edge of the tub, the movements of your hips following his rhythm. His hand reaches for the nape of your neck again, but then moves even higher, to your hair, taking a handful of it in his hand to tug at it and force you to arch even further. His other hand unexpectedly lands on your butt once more, making you moan loudly. Your head tilted all the way back, you can almost see his face.
You follow his rhythm and for a long moment you’re both a mess of sighs and moans. You feel your strength starting to drain, but you don’t allow yourself to slow down. You feel he’s close when his hand pulls harder on your hair, and the other hand squeezes your butt almost painfully.
He’s moving so fast now that the water is splashing everywhere, tickling your Harden nipples, your lips, and getting in your eyes, making you squeeze them shut.
He pulls his dick out of you only second before he cums, and you feel him the warm trickles of his sperm landing on your buttocks and lower back. You know perfectly well that he just wants to admire his hard work for a moment. You don’t mind, you don’t mind at all. You could go on like this for hours if it wasn’t for the uncomfortable position over the tub. But you can’t get enough of him.
Not even a minute passes before his hand reaches to your clit, patting it several times.
“Come on, baby. Come for me too.” He grabs a fistful of your hair again as he brings you to your peak. You moan his name loudly, feeling your body convulse, but he doesn’t stop, letting you ride this wave of pleasure. You don’t need much, the touch of his lips, his deep thrusts inside you were more than enough to make you come.
You both breathe heavily, when he finally helps you stand up, and then sit inside of the tub and put your head on his shoulder. He sits down next to you and you immediately rest your head on his shoulder. You suddenly feel a surge of exhaustion, as if this crazy evening has completely drained you. Now you long for nothing more than the comfort of his arms.
“I think we will have to come here more often.” He says, chuckling, but his voice sounding tired too. “or buy a tub like this. The way your butt moves in that water…” He shakes his head as if he couldn’t find the words to describe it. You look at him and see everything in his eyes — love, devotion, admiration. All of this lives within him, right alongside that animalistic attraction he feels for you. He truly gives you everything and more than you could ask for.
“Yes. Please” you answer, nodding your head. Maybe that’s not such a good idea. You might consider quitting your job just to spend all days in that tub fucking with him.
Well… does that sound bad?
“Aren’t you cold?” He asks, his fingers lightly rub your exposed arm. The water is not so warm anymore.
“No, but I can feel it’s very cold outside. I’ll probably get cold soon. Let’s get out of here before we catch a cold.” He jumps out of the tub, and dries himself with a white hotel towel. Then, he puts on a white, fluffy bathrobe, tying it at the waist. He gives you his hand. You watch him with your lower lip tucked between your teeth. You can’t help it, anything he does is sexy to you.
You grab his hand and he helps you out of the water. His gaze roams over your body, completely captivated.
“You look…” he says, and you come closer to him and close the distance between you pressing your lips against his. You can’t have enough of him. Even if he just brought you over the edge, you might end up fucking on the couch in a minute too. Your hunger for his body seems never to be satisfied.
He grabs your butt and squeezes it in his hands, as you wrap your hands around his neck, gently stroking the sensitive skin on the back of his neck.
“So, i see we are not done for today yet?” He whispers into your mouth, and you swear you saw a spark in his eye.
You just smile at his words. You missed him so much during that time he was gone. You couldn’t go on tour with him, so now that you finally have him by your side again, you want to make the most of this time — as close to him as possible. It’s not just about sex and physical closeness, but also feeling his presence, listening to his jokes, watching how excited he gets when he talks about something that’s important to him, or how he smiles and nods his head while listening to what you have to say like no one else.
But you also want that physical closeness. All the time. As close as possible. You would crawl inside his skin if you could.
You feel him slapping your ass once again, and biting his lips as he looks at you one last time before taking the towel from the table.
You just stand there as he slowly dries your hair, arms, breasts and stomach with the towel. The cold wind makes you shiver slightly and you can’t wait to be with him in that warm, cozy house again.
Once you’re dry, you pick up your robe from the ground and put it on, then you both head into the apartment. It’s getting really cold outside.
There’s a fireplace in the living room, so while he lights the fire, you open a bottle of white wine that’s been chilling in the fridge while you were… busy. The mood is perfect for getting just a little bit drunk and completely shedding your embarrassment. Who knows what might happen after a few sips of alcohol?
Finally, you hear the familiar sound of the crackling wood in the fireplace and before you know it, you feel him standing right behind you, resting his head on your shoulder.
He hugs you from behind and you smile, enjoying the warmth that radiates from his body. You pour two glasses of wine and feel his hand getting dangerously close to the edge of your bathrobe, only to slip behind it a moment later.
“I think you don’t really need that.” He whispers, as his hand slides up your thigh, his fingertips touching the exposed inches of your skin. Then he reaches for the knot in your robe to loosen it and then untie it. He slowly slides the bathrobe down your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. You’ve only just finished, and he’s already igniting a new desire within you.
He rests his hands on the counter on either side of you and you feel his body press harder against you. His lips ghost over your neck. He’s more than ready for more.
You take the two glasses of wine, and turn to face him.
“First, let’s have a glass. Then… there are so many places in this apartment where you can fuck me” you whisper.
A cheeky smile appears on your face. The night has just started.
Description: After the kiss on the balcony you enter the apartment and it ends as expected and you cross the last line.
Pairing: Joost x Fem!Reader
Content: Explicit RPF, smut, fingering, unprotected PiV, creampie, swearing, kinda cheating but not really, a lil bit of angst
Word count: 4.6 k
Part: 4/4
Author's note: it would be nice if you read the previous parts but you can also read this part alone as a smut!
PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3
WARNING!!!!!!! EXPLICIT RPF BELOW!!!!!! MINORS DNI
He takes your hand, guiding you backward toward the room, his eyes never leaving yours,. He bites his lip, like he’s afraid you might stop him, might change your mind.
But you won’t — not this time.
You know it has to happen. You’ve waited long enough to finally feel him the way you’ve wanted since the moment you met. You let him guide you before he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing gentle kisses into your palm that make your breath hitch.
You follow him, completely mesmerized by the feelings he’s stirred inside you. When you step into his bedroom, he lifts you up, and you laugh softly, wrapping your legs around his waist. He’s so warm, and his closeness gives you everything you’ve been craving.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He whispers into your ear, his lips brushing your skin, and sending a shiver down your spine. You can’t help but slide your hand under his shirt.
“Me too.” You whisper, placing your fingers on his cheek to make him look at you. “I’m so in love with you, Joost. I can’t pretend anymore.” The words slip out before you can stop them — but they’re truer than anything you’ve ever said. You’ve just been hiding them from everyone, including yourself. Your breath quickens as his hands move to your hips; you can tell he loves the way you feel under his touch, and the thoughts flickering behind his eyes are as wild as yours.
“Don’t pretend” he murmurs, sitting on the bed with you still wrapped around his waist, your fingers playing with his hair. You know he won’t let you back away this time. He’ll do anything to keep you like this. “What do you want from me, Y/N?” His voice is low, steady and impossibly seductive as he strokes your cheek.
You meet his gaze. He already knows what you want — he just wants to hear you say it. He wants the words, he wants you to confess it aloud, he wants to hear it again and again. He’s waited too long to let you stay silent now.
You move closer, your lips almost brushing his ear, your hair falling across his shoulder, as you whisper into his ear:
“I want you to fuck me, Joost.” Your voice trembles, barely louder than a breath, but you can see the goosebumps rise along his arms. You can feel his pulse quicken beneath your touch. Just saying that makes you move your hips back and forth looking for some kind of friction. You are already so aroused, even though he hasn’t even touch you yet, not in the way that your body craves, the way your every move silently begs for.
“Yeah?” He asks, his voice low, almost a growl, and you look at him. The pure desire in his eyes almost intimidates you. “Say it again” his words are more like a command than a request.
“I want you to fuck me.” You say, this time with your lips just inches from his. The warmth of his skin against yours sends heat rushing through your body.
You see the changing emotions on his face, you see how he likes what you do and say. He’s hanging on every word you say. You love to seeing him like this, and you love that you’re the one having that effect on him. You can feel how he reacts to every touch of your lips, your fingers, and every word that comes from your mouth. You’re afraid you’ll never be able to return to normal after what you’re feeling now. He might drive you crazy. You will need him every day, several times a day, whenever possible actually. His skin is so smooth under your touch, every move he makes makes you want to moan. You bite your lip. You want more… No, You need more, and you need it right now.
You reach for his hand that wraps around your body, resting on the lower part of your back. You place it on your thigh and then look directly at him. You want him to know what you want and how badly you want it. You feel like you’re about to explode and every touch he gives you only makes it more intense.
“I want you to fuck me.” You say once again, and then slowly guide his hand from your thigh to your hip, and then to your lower belly. Goosebumps cover your skin, but even that can’t express the feeling that blooms inside you as his soft fingers glide over your body. His fingers are trembling slightly, you don’t know if it’s from anticipation, excitement, or fear of the unknown. Maybe from a mix of all these emotions, which tonight are stronger than ever before.
You guide his hand further down and slide it into your panties. The cold touch on your heated body is more than what you could ask for.
He doesn’t need another invitation. He slides his hand even lower, this time without your help. You pull your hand away when he touches your clit.
You can’t stop a moan falling from your lips, even though you feel pathetic at how intensely your body is reacting to him. The sensation is so strong, you don’t know if it’s because you’ve been waiting for it so long, or because it’s him, the man you’ve wanted to have this way for so long.
“You like that?” He smiles, as his fingers go down your slit. You nod your head energetically, breathing heavily. You’d like to be sexier, a little more mysterious and sensual, but you’re so excited about what awaits you that you can’t stop acting like a puppy who’s happy to get a treat. “Yeah?” His fingers return to your clit, and you feel him drawing little circles with his finger, in exactly the right spot. You bite your lip to hold back the soft moans that escape your lips. But it’s no use — every little moan shows how much you enjoy his every move. He lowers his head to your neck and leaves single, small kisses one after the other, while his other hand squeezes your waist.
“Wait” he says. “I want to see you” he adds. “All of you.” He pulls his hand out of your panties and you sigh softly. Both his hands reach into your pajama top and help you take it off. So you sit there in just your panties and pajama shorts, but not for long, because he lifts you up and then lays you on the bed, and then grabs both your shorts and your panties and slides them down your legs until you finally kick them off the bed. You are all exposed, your cheeks are rosy, your hair is tangled on the pillow, your body is on fire. For a moment you feel flustered, watching him devouring you with his eyes. His gaze slides from your face, to your boobs, to your pussy, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of your body.
He leans over you, his lips leaving just a few hot kisses on yours, and the shyness disappears, replaced once again by burning desire.
“So beautiful” he whispers against your lips as his hand reaches for your crotch again. “So, so beautiful” he repeats, and you savor every word. You don’t remember the last time you were called that. You don’t even remember the last time you felt beautiful in someone’s eyes. But he made you feel that way. Not just beautiful, but the most beautiful, perfect, desired and like you’re on top of the world.
His finger goes back to drawing circles on your clit. He does it unbearably slowly, but you know he wants this pleasure to last as long as possible. He wants to remember every moment in which you were his, in his arms, subjected to his touch. He hopes it’s not the last time. He hopes you stay here, and he will get to do this every day.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this.” He whispers, as his kisses go down your neck, and his hand speeds up, touching you faster now. “not even fucking you… just about making you feel good… knowing that I’m the one doing it” his breathing is now irregular, he puts all his effort into moving his fingers in a spot that makes your thighs shake.
“Joost…” you moan, feeling the familiar feeling building up In your lower belly. Every word he says only intensifies the effect his every move already has on you.
“I love it when you say my name like that” he whispers against your skin, his lips finally reaching your nipple, the warm and wet sensation making you close your eyes, giving in to the pleasure.
He moves his hand down to finally tease your entrance with his fingers. His teeth lightly nibble at your nipple, and you’re on the verge of tearing your hair out from the intensity of the emotions he evokes within you. You’re convinced that you’ve never let this way before and that this moment is the best thing that has ever happened to you.
You don’t know where to place your hands, but eventually you grip the white sheet beneath you. You clench your fists tightly, knowing that the orgasm is approaching.
He slides in one finger and immediately adds another, feeling how wet you already are for him. He’s moving them inside and out, his palm pressing against your clit. You close your eyes, feeling the peak of pleasure getting closer and closer with every movement. You don’t need much — his closeness, his touch, it’s enough to feel like the queen of the world.
“Joost” your moans are getting louder and longer, and you couldn’t explain how being able to say his name in a situation like that makes you feel. Every time his fingers curl inside you, your body moves uncontrollably. He adds another finger, and the wet sounds and heavy breaths fill out the room.
“Yes baby” suddenly he’s at your lips again. “Say my name. I love the sound of it” and you repeat it, just as he wants. Again, and again, and again.
You open your eyes to look at him, but they’re clouded with the pleasure he keeps giving you. You’re so happy that when you open your eyes you see him, the man you saw in your mind every time you did it with Tim. It was always him, the dream that allowed you to reach the peak. You imagined him - touching you, kissing you like that for weeks, even months. You imagined him exactly like this — mesmerized by your pleasure, your touch and the way you said his name. And now it was your reality.
And finally it was really him who was driving you to the edge now. Just as you wanted.
“Come for me baby” he breathes into your mouth, and you do as he says, coming all over his fingers, moving in convulsions as he doesn’t stop moving his fingers for a second. It’s been months, if not years since you had an orgasm this intense, and you had to admit he was even better than you imagined. It takes a while until you go down from your high, and breath heavily, looking inside your eyes.
“Joost… you make me feel so…” you say with emotion, feeling your hair stick to your sweaty forehead. Nothing matters now but him. You kiss him again, and again taking ragged breaths between kisses. You’re convinced that there are no words that could explain what you feel right now. Nothing can express what you feel inside.
He slides his fingers out of you, and raises them to your cheek. He rubs your cheek with his finger, and you feel how wet they are with all your cum. It’s all him — it’s his touch that brought you to this state.
You open your lips slightly.
“You want to taste it, huh?” His voice low and filled with desire.
You nod and he slides the fingers in your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye you see him reaching for his penis and stroking it, as you lick the wet tips of his fingers, and then wrap your lips around the fingertips and suck on them gently. You want more.
“Okay, not too much because I might just come from watching you do this” he chuckles, taking his fingers away, and moves them to the back of your neck.
You reach for his penis and give it a few strokes, as his gaze focuses on your face. His eyes are blown wide, shimmering in the soft glow of the room. Was he always this beautiful — Or is it the spell of this night — your first night together — that makes him absolutely stunning?
“Put it inside” you say firmly, as if you were giving him an order. “I wanna feel you.” The sound of your voice surprises you, so firm and demanding. You want it, and you want it now.
“Without a condom?” He asks, a hint of worry in his voice, his brows knitting together.
“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.” You say in a hurry. You’re on a pill, you know you won’t get pregnant. You probably should be more careful, but you don’t care. You just want to feel him. You trust him more than any other man in the world. “I’m on a pill. It’s okay."
“Oh” he says, positioning himself over you. “As you want.” You can tell he’s more than happy to hear such an answer. There’s nothing he wants more than to feel you.
“Put it in.” You rush him, as if you couldn’t wait even a minute longer. And you really can’t.
“I see you’re very impatient” he chuckles, as he’s teasing your entrance with the tip of his penis. Just this small movement ignites something inside of you, and makes you tighten your hands on his forearms. Why is he wasting time?
You push your hips forward, as if it could give you what you desire.
He smiles at that. It’s written all over his face: the relief, the joy of him finally seeing you want him too. For so long, he’d wondered if you felt the same, if the glances and almost-touches meant anything. But now, seeing you like this, there’s no doubt left. All his insecurities melt away. You want this — you want him — just as much as he wants you.
He parts your legs wider, bending one of them at the knee. He slides in, it’s a bit of a stretch, you feel a slight pain as he slides deeper and deeper, but it’s such a wonderful pain, the kind you’ve been waiting to feel for months. You breathe deeply, your hand moving to his chest, your fingertips gliding over his sweaty tummy. All of this, in this moment, is yours.
“It doesn’t hurt?” He asks but you shake your head. It does a little. But you want more. Faster. Harder. And you want it now.
“Fuck me, Joost.” You repeat, tightening your grip on his forearms again. He takes one of your hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your fingers, moving inside you and you close your eyes and tilt your head back.
He leans down, still moving inside you. First slowly, gently, checking if you are comfortable and trying not to hurt you with too aggressive movements. But as soon as he sees the look on your face, he speeds up, grabbing and squeezing both of your calves and bending your legs until they almost touch your chest. You can feel his breath on your face, as he watches the emotions change on your face as he goes deeper and deeper inside you. One of his hands reaches for yours, he intertwines his fingers with yours, then move your clasped hands just behind your head, pressing them firmly against the soft mattress.
“Yes. Like that.” You nod your head and close your eyes, giving yourself completely to the pleasure. You lift your hips, giving him even better access to you so he can reach even deeper. You’re enjoying every second, every movement. You know you will be replaying it in your head again, and again, and again.
“You like that?” He asks, as his finger reaches your belly button and then slowly moves between your breasts.
“Yes. Don’t stop, please” you whisper, as he keeps thrusting inside you. His entire body is already glistering with sweat, but you don’t mind. Actually, you love it. You want to lick every drop of his sweat, run your fingers through his hair, hold him even closer so that your wet bodies press together.
“I won’t” he whispers straight into your ear. “I don’t ever want to stop. I want to always have you like this.”
He continues to move, his eyes never leaving yours. He leans in even closer to kiss you again, and again and again, as if he could never get enough of your lips. You look at his lips, as he brings your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand.
You are looking at each other only inches away. You see every drop of sweat on his forehead, every flicker in his eyes, as he chases his high. You feel his warm breath on your lips.
This is not fucking. This is making love.
It’s so intimate, you keep moaning into each other’s mouths and he kisses you like no man has ever kissed you. He reaches his hand to your clit again, and makes you moan even harder. You dig your fingernails into his arms, as he drives you to the edge once again. You can’t see him while you ride your high, but he’s looking at you with an adoration you’ve never seen in a man’s eyes before. He wants to say that he loves you, that you should stay here with him forever and never leave, that your place is here, that together you will solve all your problems. But he doesn’t say anything afraid of taking it too far, unsure how you might react.
You finally open your eyes, feeling your lips beg for water, but you pull him closer to kiss him again.
“You make me feel so…” you try to find words to describe it, but nothing seems to be enough. There are no words in the world that can describe what you’re feeling right now.
“I know, baby” he says again, leaving one last kiss on your lips, and speeding up his pace. You feel he’s close, so you move your hips, trying to bring him to climax. He finally does, tilting his head back and digging his hands hard into your thighs. He brushes his hair back with his fingers, breathing quickly.
You want this night to last forever.
Everything feels so simple, there are no worries running through your head, no guilt, nothing. Just you and him, how it’s supposed to be. Maybe, in another universe, this version of you two exists without all the problems.
He lies down beside you, breathing heavily. You do the same, feeling completely exhausted, but also the happiest you’ve been in a long time.
To show him how much you liked it, you finally wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his chest. You feel so good with him, like this is exactly where you belong. You wish you two had met sooner, or under better circumstances, so you could just be together without all the complications.
“Did you like it?” He asks, voice low and soft, as you trace slow circles on his bare chest, your cheek resting on his arm.
“I think you know” you say quietly, looking up to meet his eyes.
“I want to hear it” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Somehow, it feels even more intimate than everything you’ve just done.
“I loved it.” You look up at him. “it was so…” you shake your head, unable to find the right words. “Intense” you smile — yes, that’s the perfect word.
“Right?” He grins. “We will go for another round in the morning. I really need some sleep now” He laughs.
You smile, and shift slightly, lifting your head from his chest.
“Don't move. Stay like this” he whispers. Now, that he finally has you where he wants you, he’s not ready to let you go.
“I’m more comfortable like this.” You say and turn around. He immediately wraps his arm around you. You close your eyes, enjoying his presence, the weight of his body pressing against your back. As much as you had been forcing yourself to fall asleep the past few days, this time you fight it. You want to stay conscious as long as possible — to feel him, to enjoy the fact that, for this night only you’re his and he’s yours. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, so you wish this night could never end.
*
You sit at the table, staring at the coffee cup. The coffee is getting colder, but you can’t bring yourself to drink it. The knot in your stomach keeps everything from going down. If you drink anything, you might just throw up. You don’t remember the last time you felt this bad.
You know he will be awake in a few minutes, and you have to make your decision now.
You can’t stay here — that much is clear. You crossed the invisible line, you cheated.
Well, not technically. You and Tim are no longer together.
You never formally ended things, though. So yes, you cheated.
Alright, maybe you didn’t cheat, but you made an already complicated situation even more complicated. You did something you swore you wouldn’t — at least not until you had a calm conversation with Tim and ended your relationship properly — not storming out of apartment, angry and without final words.
You bite your lip, searching for answers to the questions in your head, but nothing comes.
It’s not like you don’t love him…
Don’t love who? Tim? Joost? You’re completely lost in the thoughts, completely lost in what you’ve been doing for the last few weeks. You need a place to get away — stay away from them both. You can’t keep running from one man to another. You need to be alone for a while, far away from both of them, to finally gather your thoughts and decide what you want to do with your life.
You could just leave and leave him a note — avoid the confrontation, avoid his disappointed looks and unhappy face.
No. You were irresponsible enough already, leaving him a note after all the help he gave you would be just cruel. He deserves a real conversation, even if it’s uncomfortable for you. You care about him too much to leave him hanging. He deserves more.
So you wait. You packed your things. You put your bag on the chair. You don’t know where you’ll go but you know you can’t stay here. It’s time to fix the mess that you’ve created.
The door finally opens, and he steps out of the bedroom, scratching his head. He looks cute and sleepy, and you regret not just running away, because now you realize how hard it will actually be to leave.
“I woke up and you weren’t…” he starts, but when he sees you at the table, completely stiff, he knows — this is not the kind of morning he expected. “Uh-oh.” He adds, and you can see the look on his face completely change.
He sits across you, and looks straight into your eyes. The disappointment in his gaze is almost unbearable.
“Did i do something wrong?” He asks quietly but it sounds louder than anything. The thought that you made him feel guilty stings your heart. Because it’s you — it’s all you playing with his feelings, getting closer and pushing him away. He doesn’t deserve that.
“No, Joost. You didn’t. But I did.” You answer, biting your lip. Your voice shakes, you feel unsure, suddenly everything you had been preparing to say in your head sounds stupid and irrelevant.
“Y/N, you really…you didn’t do anything wrong.” He starts quietly. “you have every right to do… what you want.” He shakes his head, and the sadness in his voice makes you feel even worse.
“No, Joost. I did. I never technically broke up with him. He deserved at least an explanation.” You say, already feeling the tears sting your eyes, fighting with everything inside you to keep them back. “i would be so hurt if someone left me and slept with someone else a few days later.” You add quietly. “I did everything he accused me of.”
“So that’s what I am to you, just someone else?” He asks, and you almost can’t bear how hurt he is.
“No…” you whisper. “I never felt with anyone like…” you drop your eyes to the floor because just the thought of last night makes your heart race. He made you feel that way. The best way you could imagine. The way you never thought you could feel. It was overwhelming, incredible… amazing.
But also scary.
“So what is it? You can stay here, we will figure things out.” he says. You can notice how he tries to make himself sound like he’s not begging — but failing. “I will talk to him if you want. I will do anything, please…” your gaze drops to the floor again, because you can’t stand the thought of how much pain you’ve caused him. This was not your intention. At all.
“No, i can’t… I have to be on my own, think about what I want and… Just fix everything. I can’t feel guilty all the time. I have to make things right — I have to fix what I broke.”
“Oh my God” he says, as if he’s just realized something. “You don’t know.” He shakes his head.
“Wh… what?” You ask, genuinely surprised by his sudden change.
“You don’t know if you should choose me or him. That’s why you need to think.” He looks at you, his eyes demanding an answer.
“No…Joost… i…” you mumble, as you don’t know what to say. He’s right — well, kind of right.
Your heart tells you it should be him. God, the way he looks at you, the burning feelings you can see in his face every time he speaks to you. But it’s also scary — you never felt this much for anyone, and your brain kind of whispers for you to go back to the known, comfortable situation. Because wanting someone that much carries a risk — what if he stops loving you? What if he finds someone else? You would be devastated. With Tim, it was simple — no extreme feelings were involved, so you could feel much more secure.
Tim didn’t deserve this type of treatment. He was your rock, steady and familiar. The intensity of feelings for Joost was frightening — it was almost too much.
But first of all you, you need to think and understand what it is that you actually want. Not what you should do, not what is more fun — what is truly best for you. And for that, you need to be alone.
halloweeny ask but like, joost at a fancy dress party drinking and a bit pent up when reader (needy asf and costumed, kiss makeup n all) sits in his lap with drinks?? grinding galore ✨
Oh, that’s nice! But there’s not much time left until Halloween :( I hope you won’t be mad if I do it a little later!
Description: After Joost’s confession you’re having a hard time deciding what to do. Your boyfriend wants to meet your new friends - which is the last thing you want now
Pairing: Joost x Fem!reader
Content: RPF, angst, drinking, sex is mentioned
Word count: 4.9 k
Part: 2/4
PART 1 HERE, please read part 1 first!
WARNING!!!! RPF BELOW!!!!
You open your eyes, and before you can even remember anything, or know where you actually are, you hear Tim:
“You were really drunk yesterday” he laughs. The first thing you see are his eyes on you — he looks like he hasn’t looked at you in months. “But I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. I need to meet those friends of yours.” He smiles.
You look at him, your brows furrowing as memories of last night slowly return. Your lips on his, the hunger in your touch. Piece by piece, you remember what you did. A wave of remorse strikes you, quick and stinging, like a whip across your chest.
You two had sex. Amazing sex, you have to admit. For the first time since… God, you don’t even remember when. In the last months, it had always been rushed and sloppy, and this time it was different — the roaming hands, the raw hunger in each kiss, the loud sounds filling the room.
Everything would be prefect, if you hadn’t done it just to release the sexual tension sparked by Joost touching you, not Tim.
It’s not how it should be. It’s your boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. You shouldn’t be imagining another guy to reach an orgasm. You should be completely in love with the guy next to you, imagining him in all those situations. But you can’t. All the feelings are disappearing faster than you thought.
Still, you have to keep up appearances, so you nod your head, chuckling softly and smiling at him like a teenager in love. It feels forced. It is forced.
“Wanna go for another round?” He smiles, hugging you from behind and you can feel the disgust toward yourself wrapping around you with his embrace. You should have just broken up with him.
You hate yourself for it, but it’s the last thing you want — and a part of you even feels a flicker of repulsion at him wanting you. You grimace, thankful he can’t see it, and search for an escape.
“I need to take a shower.” You say, breaking free of his embrace and rushing to the bathroom. “Yesterday I didn’t even have time for that!” You add, trying to sound playful and casual.
You get into the bathroom and lean against the sink, sighing, and trying to steady yourself — feeling the aftermath of a whole evening of drinking. You can still smell the alcohol on you.
You crossed the line. You crossed the line a long time ago, but this time, you really crossed the biggest and boldest line. Until this point it had felt innocent — or at least you could lie to yourself and pretend that it was. Now you had to face the truth — he said it straight.
You should have stopped it before. You should have never gone out this much with him, or let him become an important part of your life. But you did. And now, there are consequences. You are the one to blame — you are the one acting a certain way and letting him believe that something could happen between you.
You haven’t checked your phone since the moment you woke up, so you don’t know what he will say yet, and to be fair you are a little worried of what you will see — maybe he will tell you forget about it? Or maybe he won’t see you ever again? Or maybe he won’t even speak to you again?
All the options seem terrible and suddenly you miss the life you had with Tim before all this happened — boring, yes, but at least safe. You never knew it could be different.
Now you know —and it comes with a completely new set of problems. You opened the door to Joost— he made you excited, but he also made you feel guilty every single day.
You turn on the shower, more to escape Tim’s gaze than to actually wash. The sound of running water fills the room, but your mind is louder. The thoughts swirl in your head as if they will never go away. You remember Joost’s hand on your thigh, your calf pressing against his leg— you try to stop it before you get aroused again. Why does he have this effect on you?
You try to imagine your own boyfriend, but you fail miserably — remembering the scenes from yesterday only make you cringe and grimace in disgust. You’re in deep trouble.
You wish it could all just stop — to go back in time, back to how it was before. Innocent friendship.
Except, deep down, you know it was never really innocent. You saw it from the start — you were just selfish enough to pretend you didn’t see it. Every time he looked at you like he wanted to say something more, every time he lingered on your lips as if he wanted to kiss them, every time he said something that was just a little more than what you’d say to a friend — you knew. You just chose not to react, to avoid the consequences. Now you’re trapped between two men you haven’t been honest with — and one of them doesn’t even know there’s something to forgive.
You get out of the shower, and dry yourself with a towel. You can’t spend the day with Tim — with all the thoughts boiling in your head, you know he will notice that something is wrong.
“Maybe we can go somewhere today? A dinner?” Tim asks as soon as you step out of the bathroom. He’s sitting casually on the edge of the bed, his voice calm. If only he knew what’s happening in your head.
God, him becoming more interested after last night only makes all of this even more difficult. You don’t know if the sex was really that good for him to suddenly change his personality.
“I have a gathering from work. I told you” you say, as your fingers run through your wet hair. You just hope he won’t recognize an obvious lie.
You didn’t tell him the truth. There’s no gathering, no plans. You just need to get out of here and be alone. Just for a few hours. Then maybe you will figure everything out. Maybe you won’t feel the guilt drilling a hole in your stomach, and maybe you will finally have an answer about what you should do.
If only a few hours could fix what a few months have done. You should have seen this coming, should have stopped it before it went too far — but you didn’t. You were too selfish, too addicted to the rush Joost made you feel, to the way he reminded you that you were still wanted.
As soon as you get out of the house, you realize you don’t know where to go. Everywhere seems like a place where you might run into him. Or someone else you know, and that’s the last thing you want.
You just need to be alone, to not talk to anyone for a minute. Maybe then you will get an idea of what to do. how to fix the horrible situation you’ve put yourself in, and how to choose one man without hurting the other.
You grab a coffee from Starbucks on the way and, for lack of better options, head to the nearest park. You sit on a bench and finally check your phone. There’s only one message from Joost — saying that he was drunk and that he hopes you can still be friends after what happened. He adds that you don’t have to ever talk about it, but he will understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore. Something you expected.
Except it wasn’t crazy drunk talk. It was a drunk moment of truth. You knew it, because you felt it too. Every time your eyes met, every time you shared a laugh, you knew it was more than friendship.
You liked him so much — more than you ever meant to. The number of times you wanted to kiss him — even that day on the stairs, the way he lit up his cigarette stirred something in you. But you didn’t allow yourself to say it, not even to yourself — let alone him.
It was more than what you felt for Tim, and you hated yourself for it. You refused to accept it.
You didn’t love Tim — that much was clear. You just didn’t know what to do about it, or how to tell him. You constantly felt like you owed him something, like you couldn’t just tell him you don’t love him and go away. He was too big a part of your life. His home was your home. You didn’t know another life here — leaving him would mean going back to your hometown, and then the whole reason for staying — Joost — would disappear from your life too.
Before meeting Joost you truly hoped you could fix things, that you could fall back in love with Tim. You thought it might be just a phase — that maybe you could return to how you once were. Or maybe this was simply what happens after a few years — the excitement fades, and you have to accept a calmer kind of love. But now you knew it wasn’t possible. Joost had opened your eyes to a different kind of relationship, to being with someone who was curious about you every single day. And once you’d felt that, you couldn’t unsee it. You realized you and Tim were never going to meet in the same place again. You wanted different things, lived different lives, and no amount of pretending could close that distance anymore
Still, the change was scary. You didn’t want to be the one to tell him that you had to break up. You wished, desperately, someone would just come and do it for you. You were a coward — and you knew it.
God, you’re so selfish. You created this mess with your own hands, and now you’re looking for ways to escape the consequences, which only makes everything worse with every passing second.
You decide not to answer Joost — not yet. You stare at the message for a long time, the words blurring on the screen, but nothing you could say feels right. You’re too tangled in the mess you’ve made to even know where to begin. You know you won’t let him go — you’re not able to, but you need to calm yourself down before you even say anything.
You spend the day wandering around without direction past cafes, shops and people laughing — all of it feeling distant. By the time you finally head home, your thoughts are heavy, repeating through every mistake, every choice that brought you here.
Tim isn’t there. He probably went shopping, or to visit his family. You change into a tracksuit and sit on the couch, putting something on Netflix just for the background noise. You’re so caught up in the horrific storylines in your head you can’t even pay attention to the show you turned on.
Not much time passes until Tim is back. He opens the door, holding a bouquet of roses in hand. They are beautiful, light pink, the kind you like the most. The kind he gave you on your first date, which might have been one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place. He walks toward you, smiling, and holds the flowers out. They’re beautiful, and you wish you didn’t feel the weight of guilt pressing down on you as you take them.
“Uhm… for you. I haven’t… done much lately” he says, and you smile at him, hoping this smile doesn’t reveal what you’re actually thinking.
The timing couldn’t be worse. Now, when you’ve already let go and lost all your feelings for him, he decides to try. You wonder if he sensed something was wrong — your growing distance, the way you’ve been spending more time in your head. But then you remember how little attention he’s paid to you lately, and you doubt he’s that aware. He’s probably still high on the sex from yesterday, you think, a little embarrassed by the thought. The fact that one good night stands out so much only reminds you how unusual it’s become — how something that should be normal now feels like an exception.
“Thank you” you mumble, the words barely leaving your lips. He sits down and wraps his arm around yours. You feel the disgust creeps in again. Not with him, but with yourself. You let all of this happen — let him give you the flowers, hug you and believe everything between you is fine. You play along, even though only minutes ago you were rehearsing how to end it. The guilt is suffocating. But it’s not that bad until he asks:
“Hey, so… when will I meet those friends of yours?” His voice is unsure, almost like a kid asking his parents for permission to go out.
*
A small festival in the area seems like the perfect opportunity to take Tim to meet the group, without him actually getting to know them too well. It will be loud, there will be a lot of people — not exactly the right setting for deep conversations or for him to notice anything suspicious, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.
But even as you plan it, you know it’s a fragile illusion. You’re not just avoiding the truth, your planning every moment so he doesn’t have time to look too closely. You don’t want him spending too much time with your drunk friends who might accidentally say something about you and Joost. You didn’t technically do anything wrong, but you’re almost sure that Joost’s friends noticed how much you liked each other. You’ll just have to make sure they don’t spend too much time alone with Tim, and everything will be fine. So you’ll control the night — keep things moving, keep conversations shallow — and maybe it’ll all be fine.
You both arrive at the meeting point, and some people of the group are already there. Joost shows up soon after, and everyone decides to look for a table so you can all sit and grab a beer. You try to make your way through the crowd, but the nose is overwhelming, drowning out everyone’s voices.
You and Tim walk at the back, his hand gripping yours so tightly you’re afraid he might crush it at any moment. It’s not affectionate, it’s possessive, like he’s afraid of losing his grip.
“You didn’t tell me your friend is Joost.” He says, his voice carrying a strange mix of emotions — confusion, surprise, and what you think might be jealousy. “I don’t think I like that.” His tone is uncertain, as if he doesn’t quite know what he’s supposed to feel.
“Are you jealous?” You ask, forcing a small, uneasy laugh. His grip on your hand hasn’t loosened, and you can feel the tension in his fingers.You really hope he won’t start a scene here. If he already sees this as a problem, you don’t even want to imagine how he’ll react when he realizes there’s actually something between you and Joost.
“Well he’s a rich guy. An artist whose music you like. Is it weird that I’m jealous?” He asks, his tone uncertain, almost searching — like he’s hoping you’ll reassure him.
You stare at him for a moment, not sure how to respond. Yes, Joost is successful, talented, charismatic. But none of that is why you liked him. It wasn’t about what he had — it was about how he made you feel. He listened. He noticed. He was just… nice. Nice and thoughtful. Maybe that’s what you needed all along.
“Well, kind of” you say, tilting your head. “Relax. He’s just a friend. That’s it” even you can tell your words don’t sound very convincing.
“Have you seen you?” He says, putting extra emphasis on the last word as his eyes travel up and down your body. You don’t know if he’s trying to flatter or mark the territory. It makes you wish you were somewhere else now.
You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. You don’t want to admit that his concerns are actually valid, but if he already senses something’s off, you know you’ll have to be on your best behavior today. In a way, you’re almost glad it came up — at least now you know you need to avoid Joost as much as possible, even if he’s the one person you want to be around the most.
You all sit at the table, and the conversation flows easily enough. Everyone seems comfortable laughing, throwing jokes across the table. Everyone except Tim. You can see how hard he’s trying — forcing jokes, nodding too eagerly, gripping his beer. He’s desperately trying to seem like the “cool guy”. He doesn’t fit in with this group — it’s obvious. You start to wonder if maybe you don’t, either. Or maybe it’s not the group at all — maybe it’s Tim you no longer fit with.
You and Joost share a joke here and there, but you’re painfully careful to talk to him as little as possible, avoiding his gaze at all costs. It is so hard not to keep glancing his way, not to sit next to him and ask about his week, about everything you’ve missed. You know he’ll notice something’s off — but you hope he’ll understand. You’re in a difficult position. You're pretty sure he’s angry with you for not breaking up with your boyfriend — but this isn’t good timing. You just want him to understand.
You stand up, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, desperate for a moment away from this tension. Tim stays at the table with Joost and his friends, and you can only hope Joost won’t say even a little too much.
But when you go out, shaking your hands to get rid of the water, since there wasn’t any paper towels, Joost is waiting outside. You bite your lip, and head toward him.
“You’re avoiding me.” He says calmly. When did he get so bold? You glance around to make sure Tim is nowhere around, and all you can think is Really? Now? Can’t he wait until you’re alone to start this?
“Come on, Joost… this isn’t the best moment” you sigh. You’re already under so much stress, the last thing you need is him arguing with you on top of it.
“Because he’s here?” He asks, and you can hear it in his voice — the jealousy, the restrained anger. You hear it in every word.
“You said we could go back to being friends. What is it now?” You look at him, hoping he’ll just let it go, at least for now. You don’t want to argue, but if there’s something he needs to say, you'll listen — just not here.
“Well, we’re clearly not back to being friends. You’re avoiding me, you barely respond to my messages.” He says, looking down, as if he’s ashamed to even admit it. He’s not angry, not really — just hurt. And somehow, that’s even worse.
“What do you want me to say? You know it can’t go back to the same thing since that day you said… all that.” You avoid repeating the words, afraid someone nearby might hear.
“But you feel the same. You said that.” He says, his voice carrying an accusation.
“It’s not that simple” you say, shaking your head. God, you just want him to go away. You can’t do this right now.
“Actually, it is.” he says, looking at you. “You just don’t want to break up with him.”
You sigh again. This really isn’t the best time for this conversation. When did your friendship become such a burden?
“Joost… I… i didn’t promise you anything. You can’t force a decision out of me. I like you but… I don’t know how to handle all this. I’m just so lost, and the guilt is eating me alive. You have to let me make my own decision.”
“Are you sure?”
He steps closer, his gaze fixed on you. He is close enough now that your noses almost touch. His fingers reach for your hair, tucking them behind your ear, and you don’t stop him. Again, you’re on the verge of what’s right and wrong, and again — you don’t stop him.
Why you don’t stop him?
It’s like you’re frozen in that moment, unable to say no. The worst part, though, is something else — the fact that the second he touches you, something stirs inside you. Desire. You want him to kiss you, to close the gap between you, to continue. You feel every inch of your body begging for him.
That’s why you avoid him. Because you can’t stop yourself.
He takes both of your shoulders, and pushes you against the building next to you. Away from the eyes of the crowd, but still far too much on display for your liking. Your heart starts beating faster.
You know Tim can come here any minute. The thought sends panic through your chest - he could see all of this unfolding, and it would only prove him right. He already isn’t happy about Joost, and you can only imagine what would happen if he saw this scene — Joost firmly gripping your shoulders, you breathing heavily, looking at him as if he was the most beautiful creature in the universe.
“Joost… I…” you try to say something, but your mind is already fogged with his intoxicating scent and the way his thumb gently strokes your skin. It feels so good, and so right, even though it’s so wrong.
His hand moves to your waist, grabbing it gently. He pulls you even closer, your bodies now pressed together. A soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. You’re so hungry for his touch that even something so simple makes you completely lose control. Your chests touch, his fingers grip your waist firmly, and your breath is heavy against his exposed neck.
Your lips are reaching for his, ready to finally meet in the kiss you’ve been waiting for since the day you met — that moment you saw him sitting on the stairs, lighting up a cigarette. It was the first time you wanted to touch him, to pull him close, to take him home, to do everything… and now, it’s finally about to happen, as he leans down to kiss you.
But before his lips reach yours, a voice cuts through the air:
“Joost!”
You quickly wake up from the dream you were in, your mind going back to reality. Quickly, you smooth your clothes, fix your hair and hide behind the building while he walks out. You recognize Stuntje’s voice. You’re really glad it was him and not Tim looking for you. You don’t know how you would explain this. There would be no explanation, and you can’t even imagine the disappointed look you would see on Tim’s face. The guilt fills your mind as you try to steady your breathing, your body still lit up with lingering desire.
You go back to your bench, and notice Tim looking at you in a strange way. You hope Joost’s sudden disappearance after you didn’t make him suspicious. You hope none of his friends said anything that could make him suspect the truth.
God, you are so horrible. Your poor boyfriend — cheated on, lied to, made a fool of — and all you can think about is how to cover your tracks. How to make sure no one sees what you’ve done. The guilt hits you, but you keep pretending, because that’s what you’ve become good at — pretending.
The day goes by quickly. You try your best to play the role of a girlfriend who just happens to have a male friend. You feel Tim’s coldness but you hope it’s only because all these people are new to him. You hope you’re playing your part well — giving him just enough affection, but not too much. Too much would make you look guilty.
Anyway, you think it’s going well and he doesn’t suspect anything. You say goodbye to everyone with smiles, hugs and a wave before getting into the taxi. But the real problem starts once you sit down and fasten your seatbelt, because the first thing Tim says is:
“What the fuck, Y/N?” He’s looking straight into your eyes and your brows shoot up so high your entire forehead wrinkles. His voice high-pitched, he is not going to let you get away with a lousy response.
You’re in trouble. You’re in big, big trouble.
“Wh-what?” You stammer, a little confused. You really thought you’d played your part well. Are the feelings you have for Joost written on your face? Did he notice it in the way you look at him?
“That’s your group of friends?” He snaps “A couple of guys? And one of them you’re clearly more than friends with?” The words land like a punch — the exact sentence you’ve been dreading, the one that makes your chest tighten.
“What are you talking about?” You ask, shaking your head in disbelief. You catch the driver’s concerned glance in the rearview window — and so does Tim. He doesn’t say anything more. He won’t continue the argument right now. He would never risk looking angry or unhinged in front of someone else, even if it’s just a driver you’ll never see again.
“We’ll talk about it at home.” He says shortly, and you turn your head away to look out the window, without saying a word.
You really thought you had a good afternoon. You thought everything went smoothly, you even believed Tim liked some of your friends. But then again, he was alone at the table for some time. Who knows what he was told? Maybe Joost’s friends were trying to imply something? Or maybe it was just the look in Joost’s eyes that gave it all away.
Maybe he saw you and Joost almost kissing? Well, it wasn’t just almost kissing — you must have looked very intimate, with your bodies so close to each other. You feel a sting of guilt. Again. Guilt is becoming the background noise of your life — it never leaves, no matter how much you try to ignore it.
You deserve it. You deserve all of it. Whatever Tim says to you now, you know you deserve it. But you still tremble, thinking about the argument that’s inevitable. Still — selfishly enough — all you can think about is how to keep Joost in your life without breaking up with Tim.
You go home in complete silence, but your head is far from silent. The thoughts are boiling inside you. What will Tim do? Will he tell you to never see Joost again? Will he break up with you? What even is the better option here? You don’t think you’re able to actually stop seeing Joost. Not now… and probably not ever.
But first of all, what will YOU say? Will you just tell him it’s nothing? Or should you use it as an opportunity to break up?
Break up and do what? You have nowhere to go, besides Joost’s, you have no close friends here, and you couldn’t just fall from one man’s arms into another’s. As much as just the thought of being with him — sharing an apartment, sharing a bed gives you a warm feeling, you know this is not an option you can consider.
It was supposed to be a fun friendship, but it’s becoming much more complicated with every passing minute. You wish everything would go back to being simple — but not with Tim.
With Joost.
You look at Tim staring out the window, and suddenly you feel horrible for him. He didn’t deserve all of that.
Yes, he was boring. Yes, your relationship was not the way you wanted it to be — but he didn’t deserve that treatment. He never actually hurt you, and you knew he was completely in love with you — at least when you met. You knew he was honest with his feelings, and he deserved something better than being lied to.
But in your head, you were constantly trying to justify your actions, even though there was no explanation. None of the things you were thinking were enough to explain what you were doing. You should just tell him the truth, apologize, and leave his life for good — he deserved that. He wasn’t as bad as you had painted him in your head.
You breathe out as you step out of the car, completely unprepared for this conversation. Your breaths come fast, and you try to find anything to say in your head, but you’re completely lost. For a moment, you consider just running away.
You walk up the stairs in complete silence. You look at Tim and you see how absolutely furious he is. He was not the type to get angry easily, he was a pretty chill guy, so you are truly afraid of how this conversation will go. You bite your lip almost to the point of drawing blood, trying to come up with something smart to say. But nothing comes.
You did it to yourself. Now it’s time to pay the price.
He closes the door to the apartment, and for a few minutes you just stand there, looking at each other — him, angrier than you’ve ever seen, and you, terrified of the turn your life will take now that you’ve absolutely ruined everything.
Description: You moved to the city to live with your boyfriend, but you’re disappointed in his behavior and your life together. One night, after a concert you meet Joost - and he changes your perspective on the city and your relationship
Pairing: Joost x fem! Reader
Content: RPF, strangers to friends to… almost lovers, drinking, almost cheating, smoking
Word count: 5.3 k
Part: 1/4
Author’s note: this is a part 1 to a 4 part fic!!! Stay tuned for more!
WARNING!!!!!! RPF BELOW
You stand in front of the mirror, your reflection staring back with a quiet confidence. You look nice — very nice, you’d say. Dressing up for concerts had always been one of your favorite rituals. The excitement beforehand, the preparation, and the conversations with your friends.
This time you didn’t have anyone to go with, but you didn’t mind. You enjoyed going alone just as much — if not more. There was no one to judge you, there was no one you had to be worried for. There was no one to judge you, no one to worry about, no one to annoy you. It was just you and the music, the constant in your life, the passion that you have never lost. Even without company, you knew how to make the best of the night.
You take your bag from the shelf. Everything you need is already tucked inside. After one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you head downstairs.
“Are you leaving?” You hear Tim’s voice, over the sound of a bag of chips tearing open. You were pretty sure he hadn’t planned on leaving his spot in front of the TV today.
“Yes. I’m going to a concert. I told you like a thousand times.” You answer, rolling your eyes, as you pull on your boots. You really had told him, more than once, but you doubted he had been listening. He hadn’t listened much in the past few days, too absorbed in his video games.
“Concert? What concert?” he asks, his voice completely devoid of interest. Why bother asking if he doesn’t care? You roll your eyes again, feeling the familiar irritation stir. It makes no sense to have this conversation. Again.
“Joost” you answer, standing with your bag in hand, completely ready to leave. He’s just wasting your time.
“Joost?” He repeats, sounding absolutely disgusted. “No one takes him seriously here. You actually paid for that?”
You hate his tone. You don’t actually give a fuck if anyone takes him seriously. In fact, considering your boyfriend’s friends’ taste in music, it’s probably better that they don’t.
“Yeah. I did. I don’t need your comments.” You snap back. You won’t let him ruin this evening for you.
It was enough, listening to him whine and complain about everything else. You didn’t need him ruining something you were so excited about.
You love Tim. Or maybe, you used to. You’re not sure anymore, but this is not a good time for this conversation.
You had started dating years ago after meeting on vacation in Italy. He was a tall, effortlessly charming guy with his big group of friends. He immediately caught your attention in a club you went to with your girlfriends — and you caught his. A few cocktails here, a couple of pizzas shared under the warm Italian night, and it happened — you fell for each other. Maybe it was the romantic setting of Italy, or maybe it was that you were both young and had completely different objectives while looking for a partner, but it seemed like a match made in heaven.
After two years of a long-distance relationship and traveling back and forth between the cities you both lived in, you decided you decided to move in with him. The city he lived in had more opportunities, seemed much more fun than yours. Plus, he already had his own apartment. He helped you with everything — moving in, finding a job, settling in the city. At the time, it felt like a dream coming true, like everything you wanted. You got your cute guy, the small-town girl in a big-city fantasy, and it seemed like everything was supposed to be a fairytale from then on.
That’s everything a girl could ask for, right?
Not exactly. When you were moving, you were sure that he was the one — that there was nothing and no one who could come between the two of you. Your decision was based on the version of him you knew: the one you met in Italy, the man he was when he visited you, the man who put in effort. You thought this was who he was — you didn’t stop to think that the reality of everyday life — its routines and stresses — could look completely different from the moments shared on vacation or weekends away.
It quickly turned out that he wasn’t that guy anymore. Maybe the fact that he did all that for you — giving you space in his apartment, helping you settle in — made him think that the romance part is over. In his mind, perhaps, he already had what he wanted: the girl, the home, the commitment. There was nothing to prove. But you believed he enjoyed those things: the going out, the traveling, the deep conversations. But it quickly became clear that the kind of relationship he wanted was not the same as the one you wanted.
But you kept trying. You made the effort to plan fun dates, suggest dinner spots, look for activities around, and find new topics for conversation, but he seemed uninterested. He preferred sitting in front of the TV, or the computer. Suddenly, it started to feel as if you were dating a middle-aged man. The more boring he became, the more effort you put in doing something more. And every time, no matter how carefully you planned, you ended up frustrated and disappointed, because he didn’t follow the plan you had in your head.
Even when you tried to address it, he said “Well, we are no longer 20 years old”. But you weren’t 70 either. You were far from done having fun. Especially since you were living in a new city, a city full of opportunities, unique streets, cafes, parks and things to do. You wanted to get lost in it, to explore it, to discover every corner.
That’s why today you were going out. No matter how much he had to say to criticize it, no matter how many sighs he threw your way.
“I’ll be back late. Don’t wait for me!” You shout from the corridor, and close the door behind you.
You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but with the death of your social life, your intimate life almost died too. Well, you would say it died completely, because you didn’t know if you could call the few-minute acts you sometimes had before sleeping “sex”. The thought alone made you uneasy. You wouldn’t share it with anyone — not your friends, not even those closest to you. You were still in your best years; it was your time to have fun, experiment, and try new things — especially since you had a boyfriend you could trust, at least in theory. But you didn’t. It felt like quick sex between two tired parents who just wanted to finish before the kids woke up.
Not how it should be. Not at twenty-something.
You step out of the building and wait for the taxi. It’s a warm night, which is unusual for this time of year. You watch groups of friends pass by, wishing you had a group of friends to go to the concert with. Even though you’re going out alone, somehow you feel like something exciting is going to happen today.
*
As soon as the concert is over, people start spilling out onto the street. You take a step after step, following the enthusiastic crowd. Everyone is talking about their favorite moments of the show, showing each other the pictures and videos they managed to take. You listen to the conversations around you and wish you could join one of them, but a familiar shyness holds you back, along with the fear of being perceived as “awkward”.
You’re still buzzing with energy, your cheeks warm and flushed, your hair tangled from the crowd’s movement. You notice a group of people laughing and deciding which bar to go to for a beer. You would love to join them, share your thoughts, but you know it would feel forced, and the thought makes you hesitate.
You sigh. You’re feeling way too good right now to go back to your apartment. The last thing you want is to face weight of your dying relationship, or worse, hear Tim’s sarcastic comments that would steal away what’s left of your mood. You start walking down the street, hoping an idea will come to you — some way to spend the evening alone but still enjoy yourself.
You pass group of friends having a night out and couples leaving restaurants. You can’t help but wonder where your fun life had gone, and if there’s any way to bring it back. Something tells you that maybe there is — but not with Tim.
Finally, you pass an open-air food court, so you grab a beer and sit on the stairs outside. You wonder if you look pathetic — the only one not surrounded by the people who care about you. You watch the crowd, lighting up a cigarette - a habit you picked up recently, ever since your life started to feel far from perfect. You wonder if Tim has noticed. He hasn’t noticed much lately.
You’re just about to throw away the cigarette and stand up to go home when you hear a voice behind you:
“Do you have a lighter?” The voice is familiar somehow, though you can’t place why.
You nod your head and dig into the pocket of your jacket, brushing your hand past receipts and loose change until you find it. You hand it to the guy. And then, when your eyes meet, you realize who’s standing in front of you.
“Hey. It’s you.” You say with a smile, as he takes the lighter from your hand, flicks it open and brings the flame to his cigarette. You can’t tell if he’s pleased that you recognize him.
“Depends what you mean by you.” He says lightly, the cigarette shifting between his lips before he takes it out and exhales a stream of smoke. Maybe smoking kills you, but the way he does it makes him so effortlessly attractive that, for a moment it almost seems worth it.
“Joost.” You smile. “I just went to your show!” You can’t hide your enthusiasm, but then you bite your lip, worried that you might scare him away.
“Should I be worried it was that bad that you decided to have a cigarette and a drink by yourself after?” He jokes, sitting down right next to you on the stairs.
You chuckle, shaking your head slightly, then glance at him. He pulls his hood up and you know what it means — better not to be noticed, better not to be seen with someone.
“No, no, i enjoyed it a lot.” You say with a smile. “I just didn’t have anyone to go with, and I’m not exactly in the mood to go home right now.” You shrug, though inside you’re hoping he doesn’t press the issue. The last thing you want is to explain why your own home feels like the one place you’d rather avoid.
“Is something wrong?” He raises an eyebrow, and you quickly shake your head. You shouldn’t even hint at this topic. You two are strangers — he probably asked out of politeness, and you must seem stupid trying to vent to a stranger.
“No, it’s just… lately my life is falling into a routine I don’t really enjoy.” The words escape before you can stop them. Maybe it’s because he feels familiar — you don’t know him personally, but you know him — from TV, from his songs, from his socials. He seems just a little bit more than a stranger.
“Can’t say that about my life” he says, his eyes fixed ahead instead of on you. You’re not sure if he wants to continue the conversation or not, but the fact he chose to sit beside you and keep you company is strangely comforting.
„I just… imagined it differently.” You admit, giving him a smile, though it’s far from a happy one. “But hey, I’m sure your life is way more interesting. Probably not the best idea for me to go on about my — boring as hell — life.” You try to make it sound like a joke, but it comes out more self-deprecating than playful. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize how pathetic it must sound. Of all the things you could say to Joost, you go with confessing how boring you are.
“Please” he insists “Talk to me about your boring life. You have no idea how refreshing that is. Something other than people asking me about mine, assuming things about my private life, or throwing uncomfortable questions my way. Besides, I’m a stranger, so I can give you an objective opinion” he flicks away the cigarette, and finally turns to face you.
You chuckle.
“I doubt that, but alright.” You sigh. “I moved here about a year ago, to live with my boyfriend. And life is… definitely not how I pictured it.” You hesitate — yes, he is a stranger. But a stranger known to the whole country. Still, there’s something oddly safe about this moment, and you realize just how bad you’ve needed someone to talk to. And he’s here, listening.
“What do you mean by that?” He asks, frowning slightly, his fingers playing with the zipper of his hoodie.
“I don’t know… it’s just… he’s not the person he seemed to be. He’s not… fun. At all” you laugh nervously. You know it sounds bad — people have real problems: cheating, violence, lies. And your biggest problem is that your boyfriend is not fun.
“What does fun mean to you?” He asks, looking at you. The hood makes it harder to read his expression, but you can tell he’s curious.
“Just… doing things together, going out, talking about anything…” you shrug. You don’t have a clear definition of fun. And you don’t expect him to go with you to crazy parties, or travel every weekend. But you just wish he would do… more. “I feel like… he’s not interested in that, you know? He just wants to sit at home, and he’s mad at me whenever I suggest anything.” You play with your shoelaces, feeling a little ashamed of your words — you don’t even want to meet his eyes. “So I stopped. And i started doing things on my own. I don’t have many friends here, you know?”
“Hm… that sounds… not good” he replies, uncertain what else to say, and you nod.
“Sorry, I’m pretty sure you have… bigger things to think about than complaining about a boyfriend.” You roll your eyes at your own trivial problems.
“No, actually. I understand — it must be hard for you.” He says “and I don’t think it’s something small. Especially since you moved here. You have every right to feel lonely.”
“Yeah” you take a sip of your beer. “I love him…” you say, but it feels like a lie. “Or at least… I thought so… and I owe him so much, he helped me move here, he helped me find a job… but there’s no longer that… spark between us.” You feel your eyes sting — definitely not a good time for tears — so you blink quickly to make them go away. “and I don’t know what to do."
“You know, you don’t have to be with him just because he helped you move here. That’s a really dumb reason if you ask me.” He says, but then looks at you, concerned, as if hoping you didn’t take his words too seriously.
“But then I would seem… ungrateful.” You look away, staring at the crowd passing by without really seeing them. “And I don’t know, I don’t have many friends here, I don’t have my own apartment… Where would I even go?” you shrug. “I guess I’m just… destined to live a boring life.” You sigh.
“Oh God, so dramatic!” He laughs, shaking his head. “Fine, then — I’ll be your friend. I will show you around. If you want, of course.” He smiles.
“Of course.” You feel your stomach doing something weird — it’s a mix of excitement and guilt. You weren’t the type to cheat, but the fact that someone like him wanted to spend his time with you made you feel… some type of way.
He gets up and looks at you as if he’s waiting for something.
“Well, what are you waiting for? We’re starting right now.” He gives you your hand, and his smile — that smile — is really encouraging.
You smile back, and take his hand as he helps you stand up. You both disappear around the first corner.
*
You wake up the next day in a good mood. Tim is already gone, he often starts work early. You shouldn’t admit it loud, but you’re glad he’s out, so you can get ready without his whining and ruining your mood. You put on some girly music, the kind he always mocked, as you try different outfits in front of the mirror.
The evening you spent with Joost, was one of the nicest you’d had in months. He showed you around: his favorite bars, hidden gems and quiet streets. You’d laughed more than you expected and felt lighter than you had in ages. Before parting he suggested meeting again to visit more places. You obviously agreed, though a small part of you wondered if spending time with him — and keeping it from Tim — would already count as cheating.
The conversation with Joost went so smoothly, it felt like talking to a lifelong friend. It turned out you had a lot in common — you both loved art and music, and you could talk endlessly about the projects you were passionate about. He listened to your opinions, and whenever he disagreed, he offered his perspective, which led to lively discussions — never rude, just full of passion. In one evening, it felt like he’d listened to you more than Tim had in the past year.
Having these kinds of conversations was exactly what you’d been missing, and hearing something other than Tim’s usual “I guess” or “I don’t know, does it matter?” Was unbelievably refreshing.
Eventually, you had to go home, but you exchanged phone numbers to continue your discussions. Now your phone was constantly buzzing with notifications, and you couldn’t help but reach for it the moment it rang.
You didn’t think of it as cheating on Tim — you had just finally found a friend who shared your interests, someone who wanted to talk and was the perfect amount of fun. He just happened to be a man. Maybe this could even be a good thing… maybe someone else could fill in for the gaps Tim clearly couldn’t. You kept convincing yourself of that — that it’s good for both of you.
But somewhere, deep down, you knew you were entering a dangerous territory. Talking to another man almost all the time? You knew exactly how it would look, you knew Tim wouldn’t like it, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Someone had finally reignited a spark in you, and that kind of excitement was addictive, like a rush you didn’t want to come down from.
That was also why you didn’t tell Tim. It made you both guilty and, strangely, even more thrilled. You hadn’t crossed any obvious line, but just talking to him felt dangerous and exciting enough to make you feel alive again. There was no going back now — even though so little time has passed, you already felt completely caught up in it.
Unfortunately, things rarely just stay the way they were at the beginning. You should have known that.
Days pass and the more you talk to him, the closer you become. You go to museums, art galleries, restaurants, parks. You meet his friends, join their parties — your calendar is suddenly full. Still, you try to tone it down, not wanting Tim to suspect anything. At first, he assumes all of these activities are with friends from work — and you make no effort to correct him. You know it’s wrong — but you avoid the truth, trying to dodge the inevitable fight you know would come.
“You’re going out again?” He asks, holding a controller in his hand. You can’t quite read the tone of his voice.
“Yeah.” You reply casually “My friends invited me to celebrate a birthday.” You say, praying he doesn’t ask for the details.
“Where did you find so many friends lately?” He asks, pausing his game and setting the controller aside as he steps toward you. Uh oh — he’s actually paying attention this time. You didn’t think that could happen.
So, now it’s a problem that you have friends? You roll your eyes. You won’t sit at home just because he hates the world outside.
You would love to say it — but you know what it would lead to: a huge argument. Exactly what you’re trying to avoid. So instead, you force yourself to stay calm, to keep your voice as casual and natural as possible, as if this was no big deal at all.
“I met some after the concert.” Technically, it’s not a lie. You just hope he won’t ask for the details. It’s not really the best time to say that this group is about 90% men.
“Oh… okay.” He looks at the TV screen and then swears under his breath. “Do you want me to go with you?” He asks, looking at you again.
You almost choke on the air. Oh, no. No, you don’t want that. You didn’t even expect him to ever ask you that question.
“Uhm… do you want to go?” You raise your brow, trying to sound as natural as possible, hiding the mini heart attack you just had. Did he sense that something’s wrong?
“No, not really. But you spend so much time with these people. Maybe I should meet them?” He asks, though even he doesn’t sound convinced.
“Yeah, if you want?” You try your best to sound as if you actually mean it.
“So maybe you’ll organize some meeting another day? Go for a beer or something?” He says.
You can’t help but breathe out with relief. You can’t imagine bringing him to Joost and his friends today. Especially to a birthday party. First of all, he could easily see your friendship with Joost the wrong way, and second, you just simply didn’t want him there. You didn’t want to take care of him, to sit through his boredom. And you know him, and you know he would be.
But you also know it’s reached the point where you’ll HAVE TO tell him about Joost. You thought you could avoid it, but with your friendship growing, there’s no turning back now. And he’s right — eventually, he’ll have to meet him.
“Alright. I’ll be back late! See you” you close the door behind you and pull out your phone to order an Uber.
The moment you step outside, Tim disappears from your mind. You’re swept into a whirl of laughter, conversations and emotions, meeting new people at every turn. There’s barely a moment to talk to Joost another bottle of wine is opened, and the crowd around you keeps pulling you in.
But you both finally find time for each other, when you go out to the garden to get some fresh air and light a cigarette. The night air is cool against your skin, a soft relief after the heat and noise inside. Before you even light the cigarette, he steps beside you, casually leaning against the balustrade.
“Having fun?” He asks, as you stand there looking out at the park in front of you.
“Yeah” you say with a soft smile. “Thank you for inviting me here. I finally have friends in this city.”
He smiles back, but it doesn’t look like a happy smile.
“Yeah…” he looks at you, his hair a little messy, cheeks flushed, a trace of drunkness in his eyes. “How’s your boyfriend?” The question takes you by surprise.
“Umm… same old. No change” you shrug, trying to sound casual. This question feels odd — you never talk about Tim. Probably because you feel a little guilty — you know that hiding Joost from him is wrong and makes you look worse the longer it goes on. But it’s been happening for so long now that you don’t even know how to start that conversation anymore. And the guilt grows louder every day.
“I don’t understand why you won’t just break up with him.” He says, shrugging. He’s definitely gotten bolder with the alcohol.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap, your brows furrowing. You know he hasn’t said anything wrong, but something in his tone — the boldness, the way he says it like it’s so simple — hits a nerve. It makes you want to pull back, to protect something you don’t really believe in.
“Exactly what I said. Ever since I met you I haven’t heard one good thing about him. You two don’t even talk or spend time together.” He says.
“Um… that’s not your business.” You answer. You don’t like this conversation one bit. He’s not wrong, and that only makes it worse. You know you might not be the most sincere with your boyfriend, but it really isn’t Joost’s place to comment. You have to make your own decisions.
“Except it is. you made it my business the day we met.” He says, firmly.
You look at him, concerned. This isn’t going in the right direction, and you don’t want it to turn into a big fight.
“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” He says, grabbing your elbow.
“Wait? For what?” You look at him, your eyes snapping to his.
You know exactly what he’s about to say — and pretending otherwise would be pointless. The truth has been creeping in for weeks now, blurring the line between friendship and something far more complicated. You’ve seen it in his eyes, in the way his messages come almost the moment you send yours in how he always finds an excuse to see you again. You knew he liked you — but kept pretending it was just friendship.
“Oh please, don’t act like you don’t know!” he almost screams.
“I think you misunderstood…” you start to speak, but the moment the words leave your mouth, you know they’re not true.
“You said your relationship was dead. You kept going out with me, we talked every day, we went places — just the two of us. I thought it was going somewhere. But now I see you have absolutely no intention of leaving that fuckass. You just wanted to use me for emotional support, for conversation, for a good time, and then go back to him.” Each word cuts deeper than the last, and beneath the anger you can hear it — the disappointment.
“I…” you can’t deny that. well, it wasn’t exactly like that, but you know this is exactly how it seems, and you know he has every right to feel hurt.
Except you liked him. You liked him much more than your liked your boyfriend. More than you thought you could like someone.
But you refused to accept that, because you know this will just open the door to the whole mess that would unfold. So for now, you were comfortable in this situation — where you came back home, after being with the guy that you actually liked, and pretended you liked your boyfriend just as much.
“I like you too.” You say quietly, unable to lie to him. Your eyes go down, as you’re not able to look him in the eye.
“Then leave him.” He says, grabbing your wrist and bringing you closer, looking right into your wide-open eyes. He had never been this bold toward you before — until now you had barely even touched, as if there was an invisible border you couldn’t cross. Now that line was gone. Your breath hitches, and your body trembles under the steady pressure of his fingers.
“I… i can’t” you bite the inside of your cheek. The fear of unknown territory stops you from going further.
He’s so close, you can hear his heart beating like crazy. The grip on your hand is strong, and his chest is rising quickly right before your eyes.
You want to touch him, to reach for his chest or his neck, but you can’t. You know it would mean crossing another invisible border you created for yourself. He looks down at you, and you see the disappointment in his eyes. You’re so close. You can smell his cologne. You know you could just take a small step for your chests to touch, and it would take only the slightest movement from him to reach your lips. The tension grows heavy, as if the whole world has shrunk to this moment.
You start breathing quickly, feeling the tension building between the two of you. The mix of anger and sexual tension fuels you as you reach for his neck. You look deep into his eyes, while he licks his lower lip. You wish you could just throw yourself at him, pin him to the wall, and feel his hands on your body. In this exact moment, you want it more than anything in the world.
You imagine the two of you leaving this restaurant, going to the hotel — any hotel nearby — him ripping your clothes off, you pressing your body against his, your fingers tangled in his hair while he kisses you everywhere. It’s all there, in your head. You can almost feel it.
But then, in reality, when he leans down to kiss you, you press your head to his chest, shaking your head to stop him.
You can’t do it. As much as you want to. This isn’t fair. To anyone.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…” he begins, though his eyes tell a different story. He’s not really sorry.
“No, you’re right. I was pretending I didn’t… we didn’t… I shouldn’t…” You say, sighing, unsure how to put it into words. You know that the relationship between you has just changed forever — something you were working so hard to avoid.
You both silently leave, and return to the table, where his friends quickly pull you back into conversation. But your thoughts are somewhere else. Even though you just denied him the kiss, your body is begging for more of him. More of his gaze, more of his touch. As if him stepping over that invisible border unlocked something inside you.
You sit next to each other, and at some point, you feel his hand grabbing your thigh. You don’t stop him this time. If he slid it under your dress, you probably wouldn’t stop him either. You feel the familiar heat building between your legs, but he doesn’t move his hand up. Then your calf brushes against his. You know it’s wrong. You know you shouldn’t. But you can’t stop yourself, constantly dancing on the verge of what’s right and wrong, intoxicated by the danger. He started it, and you should stop it. But you can’t. Not anymore. It has gone too far, way too far.
The sexual tension grows stronger with every drop of alcohol and every look you exchange. That’s why, before something you might regret happens, you get a cab and go home. Even though you want more, God you want more so badly. The images running through your head the whole way from the restaurant to your apartment are obscene. They replay in your mind like a private film, one too dangerous to share with anyone.
You turn on the light in the room, seeing Tim almost asleep. But you don’t care.
Without thinking, you throw off your shoes, and walk over to him. You open the sheets and sit right on his lap.
“What are you—“ he starts but you only answer with soft “Shh…” before closing his mouth with your lips.
You kiss him like never before, both of your hands in the mess of his hair, your hips pressing into his body. You quickly pull off his T-shirt, then return to the kiss as he sits back, placing his hands on your hips. Your eyes remain closed.
