js rewatched the shibuya arc before stating s3 and saw gojo get freaky with jogo and my only thought was like, is gojo into dry humping??
so i kind of spiraled into the thoughr and came to the conclusion he IS infact into it and WOULD use his partners thigh to get off without shame, depending on his mood/tiredness factor either heâd put on a show and loud or be all hiding in his partners neck, trying to muffle his whimpers
i need big, strong and scary men bend over for me, whimpering and crying into the sheets while i fuck my strap into him and make him cum for the nth time, then flip him over, push his legs up to his chest and continue until his legs cant stop shaking and heâs passing out
frat!gojo x âoops im so smallâ!y/n and their mess during a party
and
establishedrelationship!frat!sukuna x reader watching it go down during a party, occasionally judging gojo + y/n with sukunassibling!utahime, stoner!choso and readersbsf!shokoâŠ
might have been gone for a few months buutt think thisâŠ
tw, sub!gojo, handjob, slight somno??, cursing, annoyed and slightly mean reader, overstim, not proofread, gn reader
satoru returning to your shared home after a few days apart, nothing more than 10 days, but it felt so, sooo long when he didnât want to touch himself because he promised heâd be good :(
poor thing comes home at 2 am and of course youâre sleeping, itâs a random tuesday without any warning from him that heâd come back tonight, why should you have stayed up?
so he gets changed, slips into his usual sleepwear â nothing more than some sweatpants because he âruns hotâ fucking whore.
curls up right against you, head against your chest, more than content to just fall asleep. â not without waking you up first though, because a tired satoru is not a suble satoru.
and he does! at least for an hour or two, but then he wakes up from a wet dream, one of your thighs pressed between his legs and- oh, fuck, how good that feels..
he canât help but move his hips, the friction that shoots up his spine at that making his breath hitch and little whimpers slip past his parted lips.
he didnât even mean to wake you up, his hands just simply curled into the fabric of your shirt and, fuck, had he really gotten that desperate to not notice how tight he was gripping?
and of course you werenât happy, getting woken up twice by your white haired partner?
usually you loved hearing his soft, whiny breaths in your ear, seeing how desperate the strongest got for you.
but today? or rather, tonight? a bit annoying. so when he noticed you were awake and he whined for you to touch him? yeah, you werenât the nicest.
just tugging his sweats and stupidly expensive calvin klein boxer shorts down, pretty pink tip already weeping for your touch.
and god did he moan out when your hand wrapped around him, leaning to lay more towards his back and instinctively spreading his legs a bit more though still on his side, just so you can have easier access to him.
when your thumb circled the top he whined out, arms curling around your neck. he really thought you were still going to be nice, didnât he? boy, was he in for a rude awakening.
when you pressed your thumb down on his tip a bit harder? he whined, trying to curl his hips away, to no avail. âs-stop, agh, that hu-uuh-rts.â
when you clicked your tongue he looked up into your eyes, pouting. âshouldâve thought about that before waking me up like a bitch in heat, hm?â
he whined, eyes fluttering shut when your wrist moved in the way he liked, no scratch that, loved. a moan slipped out of his lips, stomach clenching up. fuck, he was so sensitive due to almost two weeks of being pent up
âiâm sorryyy..â he whined, burrowing his head in your neck, soft sounds slipping past while he mouthed at the soft skin, attempting to mute his soft, embarrassing sounds
and of course you didnât stop, not even when he began whining about being close. and when he did come, white hot liquid hitting your hand, he moaned out loudly
when you still stroked him through it, continuing to specifically attack the sensitive underside of his mushroom tip, he tried pulling away â and although he definitely could have, given that he was multiple times stronger than you, he didnât really fight you
he actually began squirming though when the pleasure began to hurt, when it began zipping up his back and causing him to tug away
and while you were a tad frustrated, definitely, you still loved him. so you let go, watched as he slumped back, soft gasps and shaky breaths leaving his mouth.
he didnât even bother cleaning up, just kicked his sweats and boxers off the bed and pulled the blanket over you two, head finding your chest again, falling asleep soon enough, thanks to the lingering exhaustion of his mission and the release he just had.
intro, filming a skinnydipping video for his youtube turned into something different
warnings, dragged out tension, cursing, sub-leaning joost (of course) no real smut but making out yada yada
word count, 1737
The night air was crisp against your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth that had built up from hours of running around completing the ridiculous challenges Joost had planned for the video. The day had been filled with chaosâobstacle courses, food dares, and whatever else his absurdly creative brain had conjured up. Youâd spent the last few weeks filming with him and his team, each challenge more ridiculous than the last. But this one? This one had taken the cake.
âYouâre not backing out now, are you?â Joostâs voice was teasing, cutting through the silence of the secluded lake where the latest challenge had led you both. The others had left long ago, their parts in the challenge completed, leaving just you and him at the waterâs edge.
You hugged your arms around yourself, looking at the dark water. The moon reflected off its surface, casting everything in a soft glow. âNot backing out,â you shot back, tilting your chin up. âJust thinking.â
Joost grinned, already peeling off his hoodie. âThinking about how cold itâs gonna be? Thatâs part of the challenge, babe.â
Your stomach did a little flip at the casual way he said âbabe.â He did it all the timeâjust his natural way of speakingâbut something about the way it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly made your breath catch.
âYou better not scream when you get in,â you warned, trying to focus on the challenge instead of the fact that Joost was now standing in just his boxers. âItâll ruin your whole âIâm totally fearlessâ persona.â
You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest. It wasnât the water you were nervous about. It was the fact that once you stripped down, thereâd be no fabric, no safety netâjust you, the water, and Joost. And while this was supposed to be for the challenge, there was no denying the way the air between you crackled with something unspoken.
Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached for the hem of your hoodie, yanking it over your head. Joostâs eyes flickered down to your exposed skin, and for the first time since youâd met him, he was speechless.
âDamn,â he muttered, mostly to himself, before quickly turning toward the water. âRight. Time to jump in before we both get hypothermia.â
You laughed, nerves melting away as he waded into the lake. With a deep breath, you followed him in, the cold biting at your skin instantly.
âHoly shit,â you gasped, wrapping your arms around yourself. âWhy did we think this was a good idea?â
Joost turned to face you, hair already damp from the water. âBecause itâs fun?â he suggested, wading a little closer. His voice was softer now, less teasing, more⊠something else. Something that made your stomach clench in anticipation.
You let yourself float slightly, kicking your legs beneath the surface. The water made everything feel lighter, hazy. Joost was watching you, his usual playful expression gone.
âYou good?â he asked, voice quiet.
You nodded. âYeah. Just⊠this is nice.â
His lips curled into a softer smile, nothing like his usual cocky smirk. âYeah. It is.â
Silence stretched between you, filled only by the gentle lapping of water and your steady breathing. You drifted closer, only realizing how near you were when Joost reached out, brushing his fingers over your wrist. The touch sent a shockwave through you, despite the cold.
âIâve been wanting to do this for a while,â he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your breath hitched. âDo what?â
He didnât answer, just leaned in, giving you enough time to stop him if you wanted to. But you didnât. Instead, you closed the remaining space between you, lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, deliberate. The kind of kiss that made you forget about the cold entirely.
Joostâs hands found your waist, pulling you closer. The water made everything feel dreamlike, like none of this was real. But the way he kissed youâdeep, desperate, as if heâd been holding back for far too longâmade it clear that this was very real.
âYou know,â you murmured against his lips, âI donât think this part is making it into the video.â
Joost chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. âNo,â he agreed, fingers tracing patterns along your bare skin. âThis partâs just for us.â
His hands, still slick from the water, traced slow circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. You tangled your fingers in his damp hair, pulling him in for another kiss, this one more urgentâlike neither of you wanted to waste another second.
Joost groaned softly against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you flush against him. The sensation sent a fresh wave of heat through you, a stark contrast to the chilled water around you.
âYouâre dangerous, you know that?â he murmured against your jaw, lips grazing your skin between words. âThis was supposed to be a challenge, not a distraction.â
You laughed breathlessly, tilting your head back as his lips trailed down your neck. âOh, so Iâm a distraction now?â
He hummed, his hands sliding lower, fingers pressing into your hips. âThe biggest one.â
You felt weightless in his arms, lost in the moment as the night wrapped around you. The water rocked you both gently, rippling with every movement, every shift in his touch. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as Joostâs lips met yours again, more insistent this time, like he was staking his claim.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you should stopâknew that if you didnât, youâd never look at Joost the same way again. But as his fingers traced patterns along your spine, as he whispered your name like it was something sacred, you realized something:
You didnât want to stop.
Joostâs fingers trailed down your back, the cool water amplifying every touch, every sensation. His hands found your thighs, pulling you gently against him as he deepened the kiss. The lake was vast, endless, yet you felt like the only two people in the world.
Then, without warning, Joost tightened his grip and pulled you under, the water swallowing you both whole. When you resurfaced, gasping, laughter spilled from your lips, only for Joost to silence you with another kiss. This wasnât just a challenge anymore. It was something deeper, something neither of you wanted to end.
The night was still young, but the air around you was thick with something unspoken, something that only seemed to grow heavier the more time you spent in each otherâs company. As you both stepped out of the cool night air and into the hotel, the quiet hum of the lobby felt distant, almost surreal compared to the charged atmosphere between you.
Joostâs hand found yours again, a quiet gesture, but one that made your pulse race. His fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing once, then pulling you toward the elevator. He didnât speak, but the way his eyes darted to you, holding that intense gaze, said everything.
Once inside the elevator, the space between you seemed to shrink even more. Neither of you said anything, and the soft hum of the elevator seemed to amplify the rapid beating of your hearts. You could feel the heat radiating off him as he shifted closer, his lips brushing your ear for a split second.
âYou know,â he murmured, voice low, âI donât think Iâve ever wanted someone like this before.â
You turned to look at him, eyes locking with his in the reflection of the elevator mirrors. There was something vulnerable in his expression, something raw that made your breath catch. His usual cocky confidence was gone, replaced by something elseâsomething softer, more unsure.
Before you could respond, the elevator doors opened, and Joostâs hand shot out to grip your wrist, pulling you toward his room. The door clicked shut behind you, and the moment the lock slid into place, Joostâs lips were on yours againâfierce and needy this time.
He pushed you back toward the bed, his hands fumbling with the hem of your shirt as he kissed you with a hunger that left you breathless. You could feel his body trembling slightly, not from fear, but from desire. He was letting you take control, his usual dominant persona slipping away as he let himself fall into your rhythm.
You pulled away for a moment, breathless, and looked down at him. âYou want this?â you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
His eyes were wide, full of want, but there was a vulnerability there, too. He nodded quickly, his breath shallow. âMore than anything,â he admitted, his voice rough with need.
You smiled, your thumb brushing over his jaw before leaning in again, kissing him slowly this timeâteasing. He moaned softly against your lips, his hands pulling you closer, as though he couldnât get enough.
Your fingers made quick work of his shirt, tossing it aside as his hands explored your body with a careful urgency, as though afraid of pushing too hard. When your hands slid down his chest, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath your touch, he shivered, his breath hitching.
You pressed him back onto the bed, straddling him, your hands trailing down his body, teasing him as you kissed his neck, your lips leaving small marks on his skin, each one a claim. Joost gasped, his fingers tightening on your hips as you kissed your way down his chest, each kiss slow and deliberate, building the heat between you both.
âI want you,â he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. There was something in his tone, a vulnerability that made your heart skip. âBut⊠I need you to⊠I need you to take the lead, okay?â
You stopped, looking down at him. His eyes were wide, his lips parted, and there was a sense of surrender in the way he looked at you. Joost had always been the one in control, always the one making the jokes, pushing the boundaries. But here, now, in this moment, he was letting goâletting you have the reins.
You leaned down, brushing your lips over his in a soft, almost reverent kiss before trailing your lips down to his chest again, marking him with every kiss, every bite.
hi i hope you're doing well! it's been a while since i requested the skinny dipping fic so im wondering if you still feel like writing it or should i just request it to someone else >.<
ngl im dying to read it
Currently pushing things out as we speak, skinnydipping is part of it :)
same anon who requested the ftm reader!! i just donât have any side accounts and donât have time to make any, so sorry about all the anon asks :-)
i was thinking maybe just a comfort fic?? like personally speaking iâm misgendered a lot and i have a lot of weird and dumb experiences going through the world as a trans guy, and people affirming my manhood and masculinity is really cool.
i canât think of anything specifically, so, iâm sorry about that! but i hope you can get something out of my rambling!!
VALIDATION joost klein
pairing, joost klein x ftm! reader
intro, Youâve had your fair share of bad daysâbeing misgendered, having people question you, and just feeling out of place. Itâs exhausting. But Joost has always been in your corner, and sometimes, thatâs all you need to feel like yourself again.
warning, Mentions of misgendering, dysphoria, and some transphobia (nothing extreme), but also a lot of gender euphoria, comfort, and affirmations. Fluff, soft romance, and a very supportive Joost
word count
The day had been exhausting. You could feel the weight of it pressing down on your shoulders, tightening in your chest, leaving you feeling small and out of place in your own skin. It wasnât just one thing, not just one momentâit was a hundred tiny paper cuts, each one stinging in its own way. The cashier calling you âmiss.â The stranger correcting your pronouns when someone else got them right. The way people hesitated before addressing you, like they were second-guessing what they saw. By the time you got home, it felt like too much.
Joost was already there, sprawled out on the couch, a lazy smile tugging at his lips when he saw you. âHey, handsome,â he greeted, as casual as anything, as if he didnât even have to think about it. And maybe he didnât. Maybe, to him, it was just obvious. You were a man. You were his man. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
The tightness in your chest loosened just a little.
You sighed, kicking off your shoes and flopping onto the couch beside him. âRough day,â you muttered.
Joost didnât ask. He didnât need to. He just hummed in understanding, shifting so he could tuck you against his side, his arms warm and solid around you. âDo you want to talk about it, or do you want distractions?â
You thought about it for a moment, staring at a loose thread on your sweater. âDistractions,â you decided.
âAlright, distractions I can do.â
Joost pulled you in closer, grabbing the remote and flipping through channels until he landed on some ridiculous reality showâone of those competitions that made no sense but was hilarious to watch. He provided a running commentary, complete with exaggerated impressions of the contestants, making you laugh despite yourself.
At some point, he got up and disappeared into the kitchen. You heard cabinets opening and closing, the hum of the fridge, and the soft sound of something sizzling. When he returned, he had two bowls of instant ramen, each one carefully prepared just the way you liked it. âFuel,â he said simply, handing one to you.
You took it, warmth seeping into your fingers. âThanks.â
âOf course,â he said, nudging his knee against yours. âItâs a scientific fact that noodles cure all ailments.â
âOh yeah? Got a study to back that up?â
âBabe, I am the study.â
You snorted, shaking your head, but the warmth in your chest was spreading now, untangling the knots of tension bit by bit.
But even with the distractions, the weight of the day still clung to you. You must have tensed without realizing it because Joost turned to look at you, his expression softer now. âHey,â he said, quieter this time. âYou know youâre real, right?â
Your breath hitched. You looked at him, and he held your gaze without hesitation, his eyes steady and sure. âYouâre real,â he repeated, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering at your jaw. âYouâre a man. And you donât have to prove that to anyone.â
You swallowed hard. âI just⊠I hate feeling like this. Like I have to fight for it all the time.â
âI know,â he murmured. âAnd itâs bullshit that you do. But you donât have to fight with me.â He pressed a kiss to your temple, gentle but firm. âWith me, youâre just you. No doubts. No questions.â
Something in your chest cracked open at that, something raw and aching. You closed your eyes, leaning into him, letting yourself be held. Joostâs hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours like it was the easiest thing in the world.
âYouâre my boyfriend,â he said. âMy ridiculously handsome, stupidly cool, completely badass boyfriend.â
A laugh escaped you, wobbly but real. âStupidly cool?â
âOh, yeah. Just the coolest.â He grinned. âYou got the whole package. Coolness, hotness, awesomenessââ
âYouâre making up words.â
âAnd you love it.â
You did. You really did.
The weight on your chest didnât disappear completely. It never did. But with Joost beside you, grounding you, reminding you who you wereânot just in his eyes, but in realityâit felt a little easier to breathe. And for now, that was enough.
The two of you stayed like that for a while, the soft hum of the television filling the quiet. Eventually, Joost shifted, grabbing a blanket and draping it over both of you. âLetâs stay here,â he murmured, voice low and warm. âJust for a bit.â
You nodded, letting yourself sink into the moment, into him, into the quiet understanding between you. Maybe the world outside wasnât always kind, but here, in Joostâs arms, you were safe. You were seen. And that, more than anything, made all the difference.
After a while, he reached for your hand again, lacing his fingers through yours. âYou know,â he mused, âI think the universe got one thing right.â
âOh yeah? Whatâs that?â
âYou existing,â he said simply. âAnd me getting to love you.â
Your breath caught in your throat, emotion swelling in your chest. He always knew just what to say, in just the right way. You turned to face him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. âI think the universe got one thing right too,â you murmured. âYou.â
Joost grinned, his arms tightening around you, pulling you flush against him. âDamn right.â
And in that moment, you knewâno matter how hard the outside world tried to shake you, this was unshakable. You were real. You were loved. And you were enough.
Later, long after the credits had rolled on whatever show was playing, Joost spoke again. âWe should do something nice for you this week.â
âLike what?â you asked, your voice soft with drowsiness.
âSomething that makes you feel good. A spa day? A shopping trip? Hell, we can just go somewhere and let you yell into the void if that helps.â
You smiled at that, shifting so you could rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. âMaybe just a day together,â you murmured. âSomething low-key. I just⊠like being with you.â
Joostâs fingers brushed gently through your hair. âThen thatâs what weâll do. Just us. No nonsense. No second-guessing. Just a day where youâre completely, one hundred percent you.â
That sounded perfect.
And as Joost held you close, the weight of the day finally started to lift, leaving behind something lighter, something warmerâsomething like hope.
Joost had always been larger than life, a firecracker in human form, electrifying any room he stepped into. That night was no different. The energy of the concert still buzzed in the air, thick and intoxicating, as the group stumbled into the bar, laughter echoing between the walls. You had been by his side all night, as usual, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to help yourself.
He was your best friend. And yet, he was so much more than that.
The bar was packed, bodies pressed together in a haze of neon lights and music that pulsed through the floor. Joost was in his elementâsoaking in the attention, bouncing between people like he was made of pure energy, feeding off their admiration. You trailed behind, always a step away, watching him with a mix of fondness and something heavier, something that sat bitter on your tongue.
It started with the shots. You had nursed one drink for the past hour, but Joost and the others were on a mission, one that involved as many tequila shots as possible. His laughter was contagious, loud and uninhibited, his head thrown back as he downed another round. His cheeks were flushed, his movements loose and carefree.
And then she appeared.
She was prettyâthere was no denying that. A confident kind of pretty, the type of girl who knew she could have anyone in the room if she tried hard enough. And Joost, being absolutely wrecked, didnât even notice her until she was already draped over him.
You watched from a distance, gripping your drink a little too hard as she leaned in close, whispering something in his ear that made him laugh, his arm automatically slipping around her waist. His body swayed with hers as the music thumped, and you felt something crack inside you.
He wasnât doing it on purpose. You knew that. Joost was always touchy when he was drunk, always affectionate with everyone. But that knowledge didnât stop the jealousy from curling in your stomach, hot and ugly. It didnât stop the way your chest ached at the sight of her fingers trailing down his arm, at the way he let her.
He wouldnât even remember this in the morning.
You left before he could see the way your expression twisted, before he could see the way your hands trembled when you set your drink down and pushed through the crowd. You left before he could see you break.
Avoiding Joost wasnât easy. It was damn near impossible, actually, considering how intertwined your lives were. But you tried. You ignored his texts, gave half-hearted excuses when he asked to hang out, and made yourself scarce when you knew heâd be around. It killed you, but seeing him, talking to himâit hurt more.
Joost, for all his obliviousness, noticed.
The first time he confronted you, it was with a laugh, ruffling your hair as he said, âWhat, you got a secret double life or something?â
You had forced a smile, shaking your head. âJust been busy.â
He had accepted that answerâfor a while. But Joost wasnât stupid. And more importantly, Joost knew you.
The second time, his tone was more serious. âHey, did I do something?â
You had waved him off, heart hammering. âNo, of course not. Just... stuff going on.â
The third time, he didnât let you run.
It was late when he showed up at your door, unannounced. The knock was firm, insistent, and when you opened it, he was standing there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, looking at you with something close to frustration.
âYouâve been avoiding me.â
Your throat tightened. âNo, I havenât.â
Joost let out a sharp laugh. âBullshit.â
You swallowed, looking away. âI just needed some space.â
âFrom me?â
You didnât answer.
Joost sighed, running a hand through his hair. âLook, if I fucked up, tell me. Justâjust say it. I canât fix something if I donât even know whatâs wrong.â
Your nails dug into your palms. âItâs nothing, Joost.â
âItâs not nothing,â he shot back, frustration bleeding into his voice. âYou barely look at me anymore. You barely talk to me. And donât think I didnât notice you leaving that night.â
Your stomach twisted. âI just wasnât feeling well.â
Joost stepped closer, his voice softer now. âThen why does it feel like I lost you that night?â
You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to break. âItâs not your fault.â
âThen whose fault is it?â
You hesitated. The words were right there, clawing at your throat, demanding to be spoken. But saying them meant exposing everythingâmeant admitting to feelings you had spent so long trying to bury.
Joost studied you, eyes searching yours. And then, quietly, he said, âWas it because of her?â
Your breath hitched. You should have denied it. Should have laughed it off, turned it into a joke. But the look on his faceâhe already knew.
âYou were jealous.â It wasnât a question.
Your mouth opened, then closed. Heat flooded your face, shame curling around your ribs. âI wasnâtââ
Joost took another step forward. âWhy didnât you just tell me?â
You looked away. âBecause itâs stupid.â
âItâs not stupid.â
You let out a hollow laugh. âIt is, Joost. Weâre not even together. I have no right to feel that way.â
Joost was silent for a long moment. Then, he reached out, hesitating before his fingers brushed against yours. âHey,â he murmured. âLook at me.â
You did. And in his eyes, you saw none of the ridicule you expected. None of the rejection you feared. Just warmth. Just understanding.
âDo you really think Iâd care about some random girl?â he asked, voice quiet. âDo you really think she even mattered?â
You swallowed hard. âI donât know.â
Joost exhaled sharply, shaking his head. âYou idiot.â
You frowned. âExcuse me?â
He gave you a lopsided smile, his fingers finally lacing with yours. âYouâre the only one that matters to me.â
Your heart stuttered. âJoostââ
âI love you,â he said simply. âI thought you knew.â
You stared at him, struggling to breathe. âYou what?â
Joost laughed, squeezing your hand. âI love you. Have for a while now. Kinda thought it was obvious.â
Your mind reeled. âButââ
âNo buts,â he interrupted. âYouâre not losing me. And I sure as hell donât want to lose you.â
Something inside you cracked wide open. And this time, you didnât run.
Instead, you let yourself fall into his arms, into the warmth that had always been waiting for you.
Joost held you tight, like he was afraid youâd slip away again. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that you were exactly where you were meant to be.
intro, in desperation reader leaves a voicemail after joost wasnt near his phone to accept - only for the phone to die before it sends.
warnings, dead dove do not eat, selfharm (detailed?), suicidal thoughts, depression, cursing, grief & loss
word count, 2537
note, since missed call, missed chance and when the lights go out both got 31,1% in the voting thing i'll simply write both
Your fingers tremble as you hold your phone to your ear, the silence stretching out as if the universe itself is waiting for you to speak. You swallow hard, pressing your back against the cold wall of your bedroom, knees drawn to your chest.
âJoost,â you start, voice barely above a whisper. âIâfuck, I donât know how to say this.â
You suck in a shaky breath, pressing your palm against your forehead. The tears have long since dried on your cheeks, leaving behind the raw sting of salt and grief. Your whole body feels hollow, like something inside you has been scooped out and discarded.
âTheyâre gone.â Your voice breaks, and you close your eyes. âMy grandparents. There was a car crash. They didnât make it.â
Saying it out loud feels like slamming into a wall at full speed. The words donât feel real. They feel like something youâre reading off a script, something that belongs to a tragic movie, not your life. But they are real. They are suffocating.
Your breath shudders. âI donât know what to do, Joost. They were all I had. My parents donâtââ Your throat tightens. âThey donât care. They never did. And now I donât have anyone.â
You laugh, but itâs a hollow, broken sound. âI mean, I have friends, I guess. I have my roommate. But itâs not the same, you know? They were my home. My only home. And now theyâre just⊠gone.â
You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the phone so tightly your knuckles turn white. You shouldnât be saying this. You shouldnât be dumping all of this on him like this, in a fucking voicemail, of all things. But you need to say it. You need him to know.
âI was getting better,â you whisper. âI was really trying. But now⊠I donât think I can do this. I donât think I want to.â
Your free hand drifts down to your wrist, tracing over the faded scars that mark your skin. You swallow hard.
âI justââ Your voice cracks again. âI just wanted to hear your voice. I just wanted to know that someone cares. That you care.â
The screen of your phone flickers, and your heart stops as you see the battery warning pop upâ1%.
âNo, no, no, pleaseââ You scramble to your feet, reaching for your charger, but itâs too late. The phone dies in your hands, the voicemail unsent, your words lost to the void.
The silence in your room is suffocating. The phone in your hand is nothing more than a dead weight, the unsent voicemail mocking you in the darkness. Your breath is shallow, your heartbeat thrumming too fast, too erratic. The weight in your chest doesnât lessen. If anything, it grows heavier, pressing against your ribs like something is trying to crush you from the inside out.
You should try again. You should plug in your phone, wait for it to charge, and send the message. But the thought of hearing Joostâs voice, of him knowing how broken you are, makes something inside you recoil.
Maybe itâs better this way. Maybe itâs better if no one knows.
Your hands shake as you push yourself up from the floor. You donât even remember standing, donât remember making the decision to walk toward the bathroom. The world feels distant, your body moving without your permission. The door creaks as you push it open, the dim glow from the hallway casting eerie shadows against the tile.
The mirror above the sink reflects someone you barely recognizeâhollow eyes, a face gaunt with exhaustion, lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.
You look away.
Your hands move automatically, reaching for the cabinet above the sink. Your fingers tremble as they push aside bottles of painkillers and bandages, the weight of old habits pressing down on your shoulders. You shouldnât be doing this. You swore you wouldnât. You promised.
But promises donât mean anything when the pain is too much to bear.
Your fingers curl around the small, familiar object hidden behind the stack of folded towels. Cold, unforgiving metal glints under the dim light. The weight of it in your hand is almost comforting.
You donât hesitate.
The first cut is shallow, a mere scratch against your skin. A test. A whisper of something familiar, something that used to ground you when nothing else could.
The second is deeper.
The third makes your vision blur.
Itâs not enough.
Itâs never enough.
Your breath hitches as you press down harder, the sting sharp and immediate. The sight of red blooming against your pale skin is hypnotic, almost mesmerizing. It pools, slow at first, then faster, dripping onto the cool bathroom tile in silent, damning proof of your weakness.
You were doing better. You were supposed to be better.
But better never lasted.
A wave of dizziness crashes over you, and you sway, gripping the edge of the sink to steady yourself. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, too loud, too fast. Your vision tunnels, dark spots dancing at the edges.
Youâve gone too far.
The realization barely registers before your legs give out. The cold tile meets your skin, but you barely feel it. The razor slips from your fingers, clattering against the floor. The sound is distant, muffled, like youâre hearing it from underwater.
Youâre so tired.
Maybe if you just close your eyes for a secondâŠ
The last thing you hear before the darkness swallows you whole is the distant sound of a door and the muffled voice of your roommate calling your name.
The first thing you notice is the smell.
Antiseptic, too clean, too sterile. It burns in your nose, sharp and artificial, nothing like the familiar scents of home.
The second thing is the beeping. Slow, rhythmic, distant at first, but growing louder as awareness claws its way back to you. It pulses in time with the dull, aching throb in your arms.
You donât want to open your eyes.
You donât want to wake up.
But consciousness drags you forward anyway, pulling you from the depths of whatever haze you were lost in. Your eyelids are heavy, like theyâve been forced shut for too long. When you finally manage to pry them open, the world is too bright, a harsh contrast to the darkness you last remember.
Fluorescent lights. White walls. The faint hum of voices just beyond the door.
Hospital.
The realization settles like a stone in your chest.
You blink slowly, trying to piece together how you got here. The last thing you remember is the floorâcold against your skin, your heartbeat sluggish, everything slipping away. And thenânothing.
Your fingers twitch against the sheets, the movement sluggish and uncoordinated. Thereâs an IV taped to the back of your hand, a slow drip feeding into your veins. The pinch of the needle is dull compared to the deeper sting on your arms.
You donât want to look.
But you do.
The bandages are stark white against your skin, wrapped tightly around your forearms. Too neat. Too precise. Someone cleaned you up, erased the mess you made, patched you back together like it was that simple. Like you werenât the one who did this.
A lump rises in your throat.
You were supposed to go deeper. You were supposed toâ
No.
You canât think about that now.
A sound pulls you from your thoughtsâthe soft creak of a chair shifting.
You turn your head, sluggish, and see your roommate slouched in the chair by the window. They look exhausted, dark circles under their eyes, their arms crossed over their chest. Their face is tight with something unreadable, but their eyesâwhen they meet yoursâare filled with something dangerously close to relief.
âYouâre awake,â they murmur.
Your throat is dry, raw, like youâve swallowed sandpaper. You donât respond.
They sigh, running a hand through their hair before sitting up straighter. âYou scared the shit out of me.â
You look away, guilt settling like lead in your stomach. You donât know what to say to that.
Your roommate exhales sharply, shaking their head. âI found you on the bathroom floor. You lost a lot of blood. The doctors saidââ They stop, jaw clenching. âThey said if Iâd found you any later, you might not have made it.â
Your fingers tighten around the sheets.
You donât know how to feel about that.
Thereâs a long silence. Then, their voice softens. âWhy didnât you tell me?â
Itâs not an accusation. Itâs not anger. Itâs something worse.
Itâs hurt.
You stare at the ceiling, blinking hard. âI didnât want to bother you.â
Your voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
Your roommate lets out a humorless laugh. âBother me?â They shake their head. âJesus, you think this is bothering me? You almost fucking died.â
Your stomach twists. You wish they would yell. You wish they would be angry. It would be easier to handle than this quiet, broken kind of pain.
They sigh again, rubbing a hand over their face. âI called someone,â they say after a moment. âI thought youâd want them to know.â
A flicker of unease runs through you. âWho?â
Before they can answer, thereâs a knock at the door.
The knock at the door is soft, hesitant. Your body tenses instantly, heart stuttering in your chest. The hospital room suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in.
Your roommate shifts in their chair, glancing at you before standing. âIâll get it,â they murmur.
You swallow hard, throat still raw. You donât ask who it is. Some part of you already knows.
The door creaks open, and your roommate steps aside.
You canât breathe.
Joost stands in the doorway, his usual energy dimmed, his expression unreadable. Heâs dressed in a hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly disheveled like he ran his hands through it too many times. His eyesâthose bright, familiar eyesâare shadowed with something heavy. Something raw.
You want to look away, but you canât.
For a moment, neither of you speak.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he says, âHey.â
Itâs such a simple word. Such a normal thing to say. But it shatters something inside you.
Your fingers curl into the stiff hospital blanket, your whole body screaming to retreat, to disappear into the sheets and pretend none of this is happening. Youâre not ready for this. Youâre not ready to see the look on his face, the quiet devastation in his eyes.
Joost glances at your roommate, and they seem to understand without words. They nod once, then step out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind them.
Now, itâs just the two of you.
Silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. You canât bring yourself to meet his eyes. Instead, you stare at the IV in your hand, the bandages wrapped around your arms, the sterile white wallsâanywhere but him.
âI got your voicemail.â
Your stomach twists.
You almost forgot about that. Almost. But of course, he heard it. Of course, he knows.
âIâI was going to call you back,â Joost continues, voice tight. âBut your phone was off. And thenâŠâ He exhales sharply. âThen I found out what happened.â
Your hands tremble against the sheets. âI didnât mean for you to find out like this.â
His laugh is short, bitter. âYeah? How was I supposed to find out, then? When you were gone?â
Flinching, you squeeze your eyes shut. Shame burns through you, hot and unbearable. You shouldnât have called. You shouldnât have left that message.
Joost takes a step closer. The chair your roommate was sitting in scrapes against the floor as he pulls it up beside your bed. When he sits, his knee brushes against the mattress, close enough that you could reach out if you wanted to.
But you donât.
For a long moment, he doesnât say anything. He just looks at you.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â
Itâs the same question your roommate asked. But from Joost, it feels different. Heâs not just asking why you didnât call. Heâs asking why you didnât let him in.
You force yourself to meet his gaze, and the look on his face nearly undoes you.
He looks wrecked. His jaw is tight, his brows furrowed, but itâs his eyes that get you. Thereâs something behind themâhurt, frustration, something dangerously close to fear.
Your throat tightens.
âI didnât want you to worry,â you whisper.
Joost exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. âThatâs bullshit.â
You flinch.
âI mean it,â he says, softer this time. âThatâs bullshit, and you know it. You didnât want me to worry, so you justâwhat? Kept it all inside? Pretended you were okay until you couldnât anymore?â
Your lip trembles. âI was okay,â you rasp. âFor a while.â
He shakes his head. âYeah, and then what? You thought you could just handle it alone?â
âI had to,â you whisper. âI didnât have anyone.â
His expression twists, something unreadable flickering across his face. âYou had me.â
Something inside you cracks.
You shake your head, vision blurring. âYou donât get it.â
âThen make me get it,â Joost pleads. His voice is quiet, but thereâs an urgency beneath it, like heâs fighting to keep himself together. âHelp me understand.â
You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking rapidly. âItâs not that simple.â
âThen make it simple.â
Your breath stutters. Your pulse thrums painfully against your ribs. Heâs waitingâreally waiting. Not pushing, not forcing, just waiting for you to say something.
And maybe itâs the exhaustion, or maybe itâs the way heâs looking at you like he wonât leave until you let him in, but the words slip out before you can stop them.
âThey were all I had.â
Joostâs brows furrow.
âMy grandparents,â you clarify, voice barely above a whisper. âThey were all I had. My parentsâthey never cared. Never wanted me. But my grandparents did. They took care of me. They made me feel like I mattered.â
Your fingers dig into the blanket, gripping it like a lifeline. âAnd now theyâre gone.â
Joost is silent.
You shake your head. âDo you know what thatâs like? To lose the only people who ever made you feel safe?â Your throat tightens. âI was getting better, Joost. I really was. But when they died, it was likeâlike something inside me just⊠stopped working. Like all the progress I made didnât matter anymore.â
A tear slips down your cheek.
Joost reaches forward, hesitating for only a second before taking your hand in his. His fingers are warm, steady, grounding. You donât pull away.
âI just wanted to hear your voice,â you whisper. âThatâs why I called. I justââ Your breath shudders. âI just needed something to hold onto.â
Joost squeezes your hand gently. âI wouldâve picked up.â
Your throat aches. âI know.â
Another silence stretches between you, but this time, itâs not as suffocating.
Joost glances at your bandaged arms, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. He doesnât say anything about itâdoesnât ask why, doesnât ask how bad it was. But the look in his eyes tells you he doesnât need to. He already knows.
Instead, he just holds onto you.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, you let him.
Sigh the urge to write the most gut wrenching angst but unable to decide đđ
Missed call, missed chance: Reader leaves a desperate voicemail, confessing everything they were too afraid to sayâonly for the phone to die before they press send. The next day, Joost finds out reader needed him more than ever that night.
The apartment that was ours: After a long-term relationship Joost moves out of their shared apartment. But he keeps coming backâfinding excuses to pick up âforgottenâ things, checking the mail,âuntil reader tells him itâs time to stop.
The ghost of you: joost sees someone from his past in a crowded street â reader, who he lost contact with. He wants to call out, but reader turns and walks away, unaware (or pretending to be).
When the lights go out: During a citywide blackout, Joost and reader find themselves stuck together in an elevator. With nothing to do but talk, old wounds are reopened and long-buried feelings rise to the surface.
The promise we didnât keep: Two friends set rulesâno feelings, no complications, just companionship. But one of them broke the rule. And now, everything is falling apart.
i dont remember who did i ask, could've even been you but it's been quite some time since i requested someone to write smut - f reader and joost going skinny dipping but no one ended up writing it <//3
surely you've seen the video where i got this idea from (its from like 2015 i think but ofc u should write them both being 18+)
and i was thinking maybe write something similar to that video, like reader being on his team doing the challenges for yt and this is one of them but it ends up spicyyy (not filmed ofc)
I hope im not being weird here lol sorry
Yes. 100% yes.
Iâm literally at school rn but Iâll write it as soon as Iâm home đđđ
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