NEEDY
pairing: loser!joost klein x fem!reader
words count: 1,597
warnings: smut, JUST masturbation, sub!male, cum tasting, i think a lot of unintentional fluff, arousal during sleep, really short one shot
description: the request!!!
author’s note: GUESS WHO’S BACKKKKK oh my god I couldn’t wait to post this. it’s a one shot way shorter than my usual stuff because I didn’t add much plot (maybe none at all). I still hope you’ll enjoy it.
I’m actually liking writing your requests more than I expected, it’ll take me some time BUT i can do everything.
big kisses!
(sorry if there are grammatical errors, I tried my best, English is not my first language!!!🙏)
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The soft, pleasant patter of rain against the closed bedroom window had been going on for a few hours. Outside the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, the weather was gray, dull, almost suspended in time and detached from the traffic that, in the small town where I lived, always increased during rush hour.
My pupils brushed across the letters of an old romance novel I had bought not too long before, while my body was wrapped in warm pajamas that gave me comfort and heat along with my boyfriend, who had decided to take a nap, clinging magnetically to my side.
The fingertips of my right hand were the busiest.
I alternated between flipping through the yellowed, worn pages - pinching their corners - and gently stroking the soft, damp strands of my boyfriend’s hair.
He had fallen asleep with his face pressed against my chest almost as soon as he came home and took a shower, not even waiting for his hair to dry, so eager was he to be close to me.
His arms were wrapped around my torso, and he had trapped my legs tightly between his, as if I could escape, as if I could leave him in that moment.
As if I actually intended to leave.
Unlike me - thanks to the natural warmth after spending long minutes under the hot water - he was only in boxers and a simple sweatshirt he had pulled from the pile of clean laundry still waiting to be folded.
Because yes, he was all for afternoon naps, but never for chores.
A small smile tugged at my lips at that thought, making me tear my eyes away from the novel and settle them instead on Joost’s relaxed, sleeping face.
He could have looked tough on the outside: arms covered in tattoos, his tall frame, his jester-like way of always doing something; always keeping himself busy in his bursts of creativity, his chaotic organization and showing off his personality on stage.
But in reality, when he was with me, he couldn’t hold back. He found that warm, welcoming refuge I would never deny him. He found that security he was certain he would always have from me.
It almost felt like he turned into a child again: in that moment, as I lingered on his sleeping frown, his swollen, curved lips, my heart softened even more.
I shifted my attention back to the book I lazily held in my hand, and just when I stopped touching his skin, he let out a muffled sound in his sleep, as if to call me back.
He tightened his arms more firmly around me and burrowed his face into my right breast, clearly demanding the attention he believed was his. I exhaled softly through my nose, amused and sank my hand back into his hair while trying to keep the book steady with just one hand, using my pinkie for support.
The caresses I resumed made him mumble, lazily moving his legs around mine - perhaps seeking more contact - letting me know he was there. A few seconds later, his eyes opened, revealing those familiar blue irises.
“Mhhh… y/n… baby” he murmured, still half-asleep, not waiting long before nuzzling against me like a cat desperate for affection at any cost.
I didn’t turn to look at him, my eyes still lost in the romance-filled pages, but instead I tightened my arm around his shoulders, letting my fingers slip through his clean strands, even tugging them lightly to reassure him.
The moan that slipped from his pink lips was clear and precise, just as unmistakable as the intimacy straining shyly against my leg from beneath the soft fabric of his boxers.
“Y/n, your scent… please” he whispered, his words drawing a tender smile across my face.
“What are you begging for, mh? Weren’t you tired?” I asked, my voice firmer than his but never straying from the story’s lines, though following them was getting harder by the second.
He nodded, but his hips pressed against me with more urgency. He was getting hard: the broken, sleepy sighs that tore from his throat were hotter than all the fabric I had wrapped around me.
“Can’t fall back asleep anymore?” I asked in a faint voice, stopping my caresses and lowering the book against my chest so I could focus entirely on his curled-up figure.
I could only see half his face because of the way he was lying: flushed cheek, parted lips, and no intention whatsoever of reopening his eyes.
I didn’t get any real words in response: only a jumble of sounds too embarrassed to fully claim the air. I stared at him for a few seconds, then my hand moved on its own.
I pulled my arm back from around his body - which could have easily overwhelmed mine - and slipped my hand between us.
He sighed at the shift but didn’t resist; instead, he clung to my arm and lifted his eyes to my face for a fleeting moment before hiding again, his grip on my leg loosening.
I slid my hand into his boxers, cupping his semi-erection perfectly. Another moan escaped his lips, sweeter this time, but he quickly buried his face against my arm.
I bit my lower lip to stifle the laugh that wanted to rise from my lungs. I let him adjust, let him thrust his hips against my hand, his cock not yet fully hard but already begging to be touched.
I began to move my hand slowly, squeezing the hot flesh from the base to the sensitive tip, the friction pulling another muffled moan from him.
I lifted the book from my chest again and went back to reading while my hand stayed busy between his legs. But that action didn’t make him very happy.
“Y/n, please…” With that dark, sweet voice of his, I couldn’t help but get distracted. I stopped the movements of my wrist, though I never let go of him.
I looked into his suffering eyes, which only revealed how vulnerable he was in that moment.
“Please what? I’m giving you the attention you deserve” I replied, raising my eyebrows to make the message perfectly clear. He furrowed his thick ones, looked away, and closed his eyes again the second my hand began moving faster, his arousal growing stronger.
He answered only with soft, whispered moans, almost embarrassed to let himself be seen so pathetically turned on just from focusing on my scent.
But I wasn’t anyone to judge him. I could only give him what he was asking for, even if not in words.
I didn’t let myself be distracted from my romance novel, but I didn’t neglect the growing hardness that made him sigh.
I stroked him up and down, alternating the pace, only going faster when he asked me to.
“Faster…” he whispered against the sleeve of my pajamas, gripping it with one hand while holding tightly to my arm with the other.
I increased the speed, brushing my thumb over his tip and that simple touch made him jolt. He couldn’t hold back the uncontrollable thrusts of his hips, which followed and helped my fingers.
If someone had taken a picture of us in that moment, it would have smelled of intimacy. My face was turned away from where my boyfriend lay curled against me, but the way his body trembled, gasped for air, and pressed closer with every shiver of pleasure gave away how much I wanted to satisfy him.
He was rock-hard in his boxers, I used the friction of the fabric to my advantage. I dragged his tip against it, letting my thumb glide down his shaft before starting to pump him rhythmically again.
“I’m close, so close- fuck…” His voice dropped lower, but never so much that I lost the control of the situation, clinging entirely to my finger for grounding.
Only then did I finally close the book and set it properly onto the mattress.
I turned my head and leaned close enough to press a kiss to his forehead.
“I know you’re close. Come for me.” Those words sent him over the edge in seconds. I brought my other hand to his rough cheek - already shadowed by the beard growing back- and traced gentle caresses with my thumb across the face I’d never tire of covering with kisses, at any hour of day or night.
I felt his hand squeeze around my wrist, not to stop me but to anchor himself, to find reassurance. I pumped him quickly a few more times until I felt his hot release spill over his cock and against the already damp fabric.
I let him ride out his orgasm until I saw his eyes open - dazed with arousal - begging me, thanking me, admiring me in silence.
I slowed my movements and pressed again, for the second time my lips to his forehead before bringing my fingers, slick with his cum, up to his mouth.
His lips parted almost instantly, I let him taste himself - his own flavor - through my hand, which he was still gripping at the wrist as though it were his only lifeline.
His gaze stayed locked on mine while his tongue worked around my index and middle finger, not missing a single drop.
The heavy breaths flaring from his nose were a clear sign of how much he had savored every second of that hazy, lust-filled moment.
God, how he could be so needy and so damn tender at the same time.