summary: Joost is your perverse roommate who can’t help himself. Sneaking in your bedroom to snoop and dig through your laundry sends him down a spiral of depravity.
perv!roommate!joost x reader part 1
Content Warnings: 18+ RPF SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, male masturbation, panty sniffing, somnophilia (in that he's sexually aroused by seeing reader asleep and touches his dick next to where they're sleeping), using underwear to jerk off, drunk cuddling
word count: 2,618
a/n: this part is in Joost's POV, reader is gender neutral here but feminine and I plan to make the next part female!reader's POV - I gave this a quick proof read and spell check in my word processor but nothing else.
Title and the two sentences under the picture are from Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude by Ross Gay
Joost shifts, uncurls his legs, puts his feet on the floor and stands from his desk. His legs feel like they're about to give out under him, shaky from the way he had been sitting. He checks the time on his phone and sees a text from you, his roommate. 'dinners up caesar salad ^-^'. He stares at the emoticon, it's cute, touching that you added it. Then he notices it was sent an hour ago.
Shit.
He pushes his door open and pads out of his room, legs aching a little still. You squeak and gasp when he comes up behind you, mumbling out a quiet 'hallo'.
"Scared me!" You scold, pouting. You're too cute, he feels like he's going to melt.
"Sorry.." Joost murmurs sheepishly.
"I was just about to wrap everything up, I didn't think you were coming out." You sigh stepping away from the kitchen counter.
He gives another sorry and starts filling a bowl with greens. He berates himself mentally for irritating you.
"Do you want to watch TV with me while you eat?" You offer with a smile, blissfully unaware of his sudden anxieties.
Joost pauses forking chicken into his bowl. "Sure." He says simply, filling a glass of water before following you into the living room.
He takes the other end of the couch from you, any closer and he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else. Not like he focuses on the show you put on anyway, some sort of competition show, he nods and hums as you explain everything.
You moved in together some time ago and it's only been the past few months that he started feeling this way. It reared its stupid ugly head when you had asked him to watch TV like this but you were curled under a blanket, holding up the edge in offer. His hands started shaking and he felt sure he'd get a boner and make it weird, so he just declined and left with a Monster back to his room. He almost said no this time, but didn't want to be rude. He perches on the couch, legs crossed, behaving himself. Though it's so hard to behave.
About a week later, he's milling about the kitchen when you pop out of your room. It's hard not to ogle your legs, your ass in those shorts as you flit past him, grabbing a soda can from the fridge and say you're going out with friends. He nods giving an 'ok', nonchalantly asks when you'll be back. Just a few hours you promise, then ask why. Just curious, he promises.
He waits to make sure you won't come back before sneaking into your room.
God, it's wrong and Joost knows it is but he can't help himself. He feels like he's going to get caught red handed at any moment. Gently pushing your door in like he's not alone in the apartment. There's a mess of clothing on your bed from trying stuff on before going out, a couple of the dresser drawers askew, a pair of underwear hanging limp over the edge.
He pulls open a drawer, slow and careful before reminding himself he's alone. None of it catches his interest, until he opens the lowest drawer and finds his roommate's stash. A vibrator, a dildo and a bottle of lube. He never knew, you never made a sound. Well, he tried to keep quiet when he jerked off too, but he finds he's a little disappointed he never once heard a single noise from your room. The dildo is smaller than him. God. You're masturbating with a dildo smaller than his cock when he'd be more than happy to satisfy your needs properly.
His fingers pass over your journal, closed on your desk. He feels at your bedding, the comforter, the stuffed toy bunny. Its fur is soft, a little fuzzed like you sleep with it often. He eyes the laundry basket, knowing he shouldn't. He shouldn't be in here at all.
Joost pushes his hand into the worn clothing, fishing out a shirt. It smells like you, your perfume. His hand shakes a little when he finds a pair of used underwear. Fuck he shouldn't. He shouldn't.
He can't help himself. He pulls them from the basket, feeling the soft material under his thumb. His other hand is slinking down his own body, as he raises the underwear to his nose to take a sniff, just like he smelled the shirt. But this time he feels almost dizzy from the smell.
He starts rubbing his dick through his shorts as he reaches in again, clumsily looking through his roommate's laundry with one hand. He finds a pair, cute and pink, lace around the edges, soft under his fingers, eyes rolling as he sniffs them. He pushes his shorts and boxers down enough to get his dick out.
Wrapping a hand around himself, Joost sighs a little, he bites his lip glancing down to see himself throb. The panties change hands, he wraps the soft material around his cock and gives a whimper.
God he can't believe he's doing this. He feels dirty and perverse and fucked up, standing in his roommate's bedroom with their underwear wrapped around his hard cock because he just couldn't help himself. He watches precum bead, seeping through the fabric, rubbing his tip with the panties.
Whatever little control he had before he loses now, one hand braced against the wall as he humps his own hand. His eyes shut as he focuses on the feeling, the soft material of his roommate's underwear around his dick. He pants, pathetic noises leaving his throat. It's not long before he's coming into the underwear, cock throbbing, cum soaking the fabric.
Shame fills him on the comedown. He stuffs the mess he made towards the bottom of your basket. You won't notice. God he hopes you won't notice.
Joost can't stop thinking about it. He hears you come home later when he's shut away in his room. You hum, singing softly as you go down the hall to your room. Probably drunk, he thinks. You won't figure out what he did in that state.
"Hey," He says, knocking on your door that's ajar. You sit on your bed doing something on your laptop. It's been a few days, the incident is still on his mind and you're still none the wiser. "I'm gonna do my laundry, want me to do yours too?"
You look almost shocked. Well, he has never offered before, it's weird that he is all of a sudden. "Uh, yeah! Sure, okay." You nod, returning the gentle smile he gives.
"Thank you!" You chirp as he lifts your small basket by the handles, taking the detergent and softener sheets next to the basket before he goes.
"Ja, you're welcome." He gives a sigh of relief as he nudges your door shut again. He was so nervous you'd find out what he did if you did your own laundry.
He watches every piece of clothing as he tosses it in the washer. Every tank top, t-shirt, pair of jeans. Every pair of used underwear.
There's no one around, the air is quiet and still and Joost can't help himself. Before starting the laundry he gets off with a pair of his roommate's underwear in the middle of his apartment's laundry room. One last time he tells himself. He cums all over the cute green and white striped fabric and thinks about what you look like wearing them.
He zones out listening to music waiting for everything to finish. He doesn't think about what he's done, he doesn't think about you. He folds your clothing carefully, piling it all in the basket once more, ignoring someone who arrived and decided to stand right by the folding tables talking on their cell. Then he folds his own and hauls it all back up to the apartment.
"You didn't have to fold it.." You laugh, sounding a little nervous maybe when he returns your laundry.
"Figured it'd be the nice thing to do." He shrugs, glancing at the pair of cute socks he put on the top of the stack. You're looking too. Surely realizing folding everything meant he touched and saw everything. You don't know the half of it.
"Well, thanks. You're so sweet!" You smile up at him anyway, standing in front of him in a tank top and sweatpants, they hang low on your hips and he can see the pink leopard print of whatever underwear you're wearing now.
He gives a little giggle, glancing away. "Welcome." You don't hug him, he wishes you did, it seems like you wanted to but you shuffle away a little and mumble something about putting everything away and he knows that's his cue to leave.
You weren't teasing him, wearing what you were, he knows that. Joost knows it's wrong to think you would be, you're just being comfortable in your own space. But god, you looked so good in that little tank and the low, loose sweats. It's unfair.
It feels like you are teasing him, but he knows better. But it's hard not to stare at you, when you ask how you look before going out in tiny denim shorts. It's hard to behave when you tell him to sniff perfume on your neck. He gets you your favorite candy at the store and you squeeze him in a big, tight hug, your chest against his. Joost cums with your name silent on his lips in the night after the hug, thinking of the contact.
He comes home one day and finds you asleep, sprawled on the couch. The moment the first little noise leaves your lips he feels his dick start to twitch. His head spins, god he can only imagine how sweet you'd sound under him if the little sleepy noises you make sound this good. Little moans and whimpers from whatever dream you're having. He doesn't think twice before he's getting his dick out, biting his lip to stifle his own sounds.
Just a little, just enough to satisfy the urge. The need to jerk off next to you, your sweet, soft sleeping face. He doesn't go any further, just stroking his cock watching your lips part in a soft sigh. Then he's tucking himself away and hurrying to his room before you wake up so he can finish.
So he can finish with a pair of your dirty underwear, that he swiped from your laundry while you were out, held to his nose.
God he's fucked.
One night he's chilling on the couch drinking beer and channel surfing when he hears a thump at the door, about to stand when the knob twists and you stumble in with your shoes in your free hand. "You're up?" You ask giving Joost a crooked smile.
"Ja, I was watchin' TV." He says taking a drink.
"Can I join you?" You ask, just a little clumsy as you walk to the couch, steadying yourself with a hand on the arm of it.
Joost just nods, taking a deep breath, willing his hands to stop shaking. "Okay," You sigh, standing up straight. "I'm gonna get 'jamas.." You mumble heading to your room.
He's started another beer by the time you come back, in sweats and a tank. You plop on the couch next to him with a sigh. You're so warm and sweet smelling next to him, it's almost hard for him think. But that's also due to the alcohol in his system.
"Whatcha watching?" You ask shifting closer, leaning your head on his shoulder.
"Erm, nothing. Just looking, you wanna pick?" He offers the remote, you take it just to set it on the coffee table.
"This is good." It's some movie, neither of you are paying attention at this point.
He can't, not with how you're touching him, fingers brushing his arm. He drinks his beer to distract himself, pretending to focus on the TV.
After a few minutes, "You wanna cuddle?" You draw your legs up under you.
He doesn't answer right away, finishing his beer, setting the empty can on the table. It wobbles and falls over, rolling against the remote.
"C'mon, we're both drunk, it's okay.." You plead softly, pouting at him a little.
He thought you were already cuddling with him, all tucked up against him. "Fuck. Yeah, please."
You giggle at him, eyes soft, pupils big in the darkness of the living room the two of you only lit by the movie playing. "You're so cute, you know that?"
He laughs as well, a quiet sound. "You're cuter.." What is he saying? What is he even doing? Letting you lace your fingers with his, your body slouching against his but your head tilted up so you can look at him.
"No I'm not… You are, with your pretty hair an' pretty eyess," You coo, blinking hard, swaying a little as you sit up straighter. "Can I take your glasses off?"
He nods, letting his eyes flutter shut when your hands come up to his face. He blinks them open again when he feels your presence return from putting them on the coffee table. "Sooo pretty…" Your hands return to his face again, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones, his sideburns.
He touches you in return, carefully stroking a hand down your side. He can't see you very well with how close you are, but he calls you pretty too just because. You climb into his lap, hands on his shoulders now. He doesn't know if it's your touch or the beer making him feel light and dizzy.
Fuck. He can't believe this is happening. His hands move with a mind of their own, up your sides, to your back, then your ass.
You mumble mindlessly, petting his chest down to his belly. You haven't noticed his boner yet. Then you slump against his chest, sighing heavily.
"We should…You should get to bed.." He murmurs, rubbing your back.
"Don't wanna.. I wanna be with you.." You snuggle into him and he tries to stop breathing so heavy.
"You should though. We shouldn't do this. Can you stand?" He tries getting your arms off himself, knowing he can't shove you away.
You groan, crawling off him and standing unsteady. "Mh, okay…Okay I can do this."
Joost follows quickly, there to make sure you don't tip over. "Yes, you can. Very good." He mumbles, helping you walk to your room.
You giggle at him, happily leaning on him for support. "Say that again."
"Shh, we're almost there." He can't think too hard about you wanting him to praise you right now. Not when you're so close and touching him so much.
"I like mh- your voice.. Has anyone ever told'ya that? You gotta nice voice." You fall back into your bedding once he gets you there.
"I'll get you some water." He gives your hand a squeeze before taking off.
He just has to do this and he can leave and jerk off all night in his room. You're curled under your blanket when he returns and he sets the glass on your nightstand and slips out of your room and into his own.
He shoves down his pants and underwear the second he steps in his bedroom, muscle memory at this point. His cock throbs in his hand as he sits on the edge of his bed, his mind a blur with thoughts of you, the sweet way you talked to him and kept touching him.
Fuck, he feels pathetic. He can't begin to think about how you're going to act after this.
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