kirikorik - Tumblr blog

[kirikorik]

- And yet you left me. - And yet I left you. You'll never forget…

Joost Klein × fem!reader.

Summary: You loved each other when you were teenagers, then he ran away, and now he's back again, and no matter how much you try to avoid him, you won't succeed... After many years, you receive an invitation to a party in honor of Joost's loss at Eurovision.

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 16+! Triggers! Violence! Sexualization! Sexy theme! Not canon! The story is not reality and everything except the known facts is my fantasy!

I don't know English. Maybe there are a lot of mistakes. ♡♡♡

The party is in full swing. The sounds of electronic music are hitting your ears, but you are laughing happily, feeling the vibration in your chest. You are a little drunk, you want to relax a little after work, so you replace your drink with a new one and go further to the dance floor to forget yourself this evening. This party was a celebration of losing.

Just a few days ago, Eurovision ended, Switzerland won with some damn singer. You had nothing against the performer from this country, but you were still bitter and offended for what you did to the «main star» of this party. Joost Klein was expelled. He could have easily won, the vote ratings in his honor were skyrocketing. People liked his songs, his style, people liked him as a person. But the truth is that people couldn't help but like Joost. He was something of a cherished dream. Unattainable and too mundane. The guys wanted to be friends with him, the girls just wanted him. And yet he was excluded from Eurovision, and now Joost was celebrating his loss, his lost dream…

You raise your hands, the flashing lights in front of your eyes spin, sweat rolls down your forehead. The room is hot and stuffy, but you don't care. You don't care. Your only dream is that this evening will never end and that you will never see Joost again. But he's like a ghost, a silhouette shining in the golden light. Joost is irresistible from the tips of his snow-white hair to his bottomless blue eyes.

The crowd is moving, changing, and no matter how much you blink, you still see only him in front of you. He has white paint on his face, black circles around his eyes, he's wearing his favorite makeup, which makes your legs give way. He looks so fake… Joost is unpredictable. Joost is crazy. Joost… You're fucking in love with him.

Someone steps on your foot, but you don't care. You close your eyes painfully and swear to yourself that you won't open them until dawn today. So as not to see his silhouette, so as not to hear his voice in the songs tickling your ears, so as not to feel his hot palms on your ribs, so as not to cry from how hard his nails dig into your skin. He's standing behind you, snuggling up to you, dancing to your rhythm. He is tall, even very tall, so casually he puts his chin on top of your head and slows down to the beat of his music, as if you are dancing not to loud, rhythmic hip-hop, but to the melody accompanying your unforgettable waltz. People are drunk and don't notice you. You don't want to think about whether it's a dream, whether you feel his touch. You take a deep breath…

You and Joost weren't friends, but you were definitely more than just acquaintances. You've known him for most of your life, ever since you went to school, when you lived next door to him. Joost Klein is a naughty, arrogant wretch. — that's what your parents used to say. Joost Klein was a couple of years older than you, and you were forbidden to communicate with him, but, to tell the truth, you didn't even know him. You often watched from the window of the children's bedroom as he played ball with his father and older brother, but you were always afraid to approach them. Your parents never paid enough attention to you.

Once in childhood, your mother ordered you to put on black clothes. But you didn't listen and chose a white shirt with red hearts. Of course, no one told you that it was very important, your parents ignored you. Standing at the funeral of Joost's father, who died of cancer, you realized what a mistake you had made. Joost looked into your eyes without blinking, as if he had known you for a long time. He probably hated the scarlet hearts on your shirt. You tightened your grip on your mother's hand and lowered your tear-stained gaze to the ground.

He was thirteen, and you were a couple of years younger and didn't understand much when an ambulance arrived at your neighbor's house a year later. You didn't understand much when a body covered with a black cloth was carried out of the house on a stretcher. You didn't understand much when the white-haired boy jumped out after the doctors, screaming loudly and heartbreakingly. You didn't understand much when Joost's older brother held him in his arms, comforting him. You didn't understand a lot, but bitter tears were rolling down your cheeks. You never saw Miss Klein again.

You're afraid, but you still lean back against Joost's wide, sweat-soaked chest, cling to him as if for the last breath of air, but you don't open your eyes even when his right palm begins to slide over your cheek. He knows that you won't dare to look at him, and yet he's watching your face intently in the hope of seeing at least something.…

When Joost returned to school a few months later, he was smiling as if nothing had happened. As if his heart didn't hurt unbearably much. Then, looking at him from around the corner, you promised to share his pain with him. Being the only viewer of his YouTube channel, you, as the most devoted fan, listened attentively to all his speeches. You left likes on his videos, wrote comments, it seemed like you knew everything about him. You weren't sure if Joost at least remember your name.…

When you turned 15, you often watched at night as Joost ran away from home, as each time he was picked up by the same dark blue car with his friends. You dreamed of going to the same place where Joost went one day. He always returned just before dawn, always with a drunken sincere smile on his lips, always happy. Was he happy? Even a fool would have realized that it wasn't.

Your hips move in a slow rhythm to the right and left, Joost pressing his pelvis against you follows your every movement, exhaling hotly into the back of your head, making you tremble and tremble…

You remember the horror reflected on your face when you looked into someone else's blue eyes. So similar to Joost's eyes… A brunette twice your size was pinning you to the wall with his body… It's the first time you've run away from home after your adult friends. The guy standing in front of you was Joost's classmate, one of his best friends. But, nevertheless, it was he who persistently groped you, drunkenly muttering something and ignoring your tears, running his hands under your short skirt. The room is dark, music is blaring outside the door, no one will hear you.…

A calloused palm squeezes your thin neck, interrupting you breathing for a few moments, and then sliding back to your cheekbone. Your ears are blocked, you can't hear the music and Joost's ragged breathing over your temple. He doesn't say a word, but you understand everything and therefore drink the remaining alcohol in the glass at a time. There's no way you're going to listen to him. Do you want to forget about the existence of Joost Klein… And yet you're at his party. And yet you responded to his invitation, but not to the bell.…

You swallow back tears, mumble something about your parents, about your mother, beg him to stop and not touch you. But other men's hands are not listening to you, lifting up your short top. Other people's lips wetly kiss your neck, nibble your shoulders. You try to push Joost's friend away, but you can't do anything, he's older and twice your size, stronger…

You dig your nails into Joost's forearm, trying to stop him and forbid him to stop. You pray that he doesn't stop, and you hope that you're dreaming all this.

The flash is followed by a loud bang and swearing. Dirty alien hands are letting you go. You shiver and cling to the wall, staring wide-eyed at the floor. Your fingers lower the edge of your skirt, wanting to cover your body as much as possible. You're almost hysterical, and when someone else's hands fall on your shaking shoulders again, you shudder violently, raising your head sharply. Joost is standing in front of you. Pale. He seems very scared. There are drops of blood on his cheekbone, the knuckles of his right hand are broken, and his best friend is lying unconscious on the icy floor next to you. But he hugs you with trembling hands and prays that you will be all right. His sweet lonely neighbor, who seems to know everything about him and at the same time nothing at all. Joost was not a fighter, he was not an athlete, and although in junior high he often fought with other children, as he got older, he completely forgot about it. And yet, when he saw you in tears, his fists automatically clenched. He was only thinking about how to protect you. — It's time for us to go home. He says softly, before borrowing an old navy blue car from a friend and taking you away.…

You hate him. You hate it as much as you hate yourself. But for Joost, you are the most valuable, the closest. You're what he always wants, but his hands only touch you when he's drunk. His lips don't know the taste of your lips. His eyes have never seen your naked body. Although he would be willing to give a lot if you told him at least once — yes. You loved him. He knew it, but it was all terribly ridiculous, almost disgustingly funny.

It's cold in the car, it smells like weed and alcohol. Joost doesn't seem to have a driver's license. But you don't even think about it, clinging to the car window and shivering in the front seat. Joost's doesn't look at you, but he's gripping the steering wheel tightly. An oppressive silence fills the interior of the car, and only occasionally your short sobs scare the two of you.

— Bastard… — you whisper softly, bringing your hands back and painfully digging your nails into Joost's scalpel, tangling your hands in his snow—white hair. You think he doesn't hear your words, but Just just chuckles softly and snuggles closer to you.

You don't say a word to each other when your parents meet you at the door of the house more angry than scared, you want to hate Joost for telling your parents everything. But it seems that the contempt in the eyes of your mother and father in Joost's direction is enough for you two.

— Y/n… — he drunkenly mutters your name…

You're under house arrest, and all you have is a view of his house from the window. You cry, remembering everything that happened, and you can't contain your anger when you see Joost climbing out of his room window again late at night. But the car in the yard is already a different color: scarlet, expensive and shiny, and a tall brunette is driving… There is disappointment in your heart, pain in your soul…

His hands tickle your ribs, stroke your waist, pity your body. Joost is unpredictable, like the first snow in October or the last in May. He comes unexpectedly, bursts into your life without any warning, as if you've been waiting for him for a long time. Have you been waiting for him? In response, you are silent, but your trembling hands stroke his cheekbones, slide along his neck while you press your back against his chest. You arch in the small of your back and hear your bones crunch, but it doesn't hurt you, just a little bit.

He smiles, it seems to sparkle and happily at his new girlfriend, a fateful brunette his high school classmate. She is one of the most beautiful girls in school: rich parents, good reputation, excellent grades. Joost is her opposite, but opposites eventually attract, don't they? You bite the inside of your cheek, talking to your friends, but your eyes are glued to the newly minted couple cooing at the entrance to the chemistry room…

— Why again? — you mumble, knowing the answer perfectly well…

When you see them naked in Joost's bedroom through the window of your house, something inside dies. You cry loudly, wipe your tears into your pillow, swallow your sobs and hope that everything will end soon.…

— I promised you, — Joost replies with an ironic laugh, whispering in your ear. Your skin is covered with goosebumps, and tears come to your eyes again.

You're drunk again, you ran away from home again, but now you have a reason for it — non-reciprocal love. There is a fog in my head, a picture floats before my eyes, how you joyfully rush into the arms of some unknown guy. Now you're 16, now you can. Someone's lips are sliding down your neck, somewhere in your head your mind is screaming at you to run, whispering that you don't want this. Your heart squeezes painfully in my chest, and your watery eyes are filled with memories of that damn night when Joost's ex-best friend tried to force you… You feel sick, sick and…

— Do you remember the night I promised I'd never leave you? — that damn grin that suits Joost so well doesn't leave his lips while he leaves a trail of kisses on your neck. Maybe you'll finally come to terms, maybe you'll finally give a damn and just say — yes?

Your head is spinning, and your legs don't hold you at all when long-familiar male hands, covered with ridiculous tattoos, pull you out of someone else's arms. You want to scream, but you just melt under the influence of a few bottles of alcohol and obediently follow Joost through the crowd. Somewhere behind you, you hear a woman screaming. The scream of that brunette bitch, that's what you called her.

— You were very drunk, crying and begging me not to leave you, remember? — Joost is circling you in his arms, hoarsely and insistently, without stopping whispering…

You're screaming. Loudly, tearing his throat out as the car leaves the city. Joost doesn't say a word, he's mad as hell, and except for the look in his eyes — «I told you never to go to high school parties again.» — You can't see anything anymore.

— I'd like to forget… — you see bright lights through your closed eyelids.…

It's night outside, the sky is overcast, and you can't see the moon or the stars, only the headlights of a damn car you know illuminate the road. Joost is looking at you, right into your eyes. His face is young without wrinkles and although his life has been hard, he still has naivety in his soft features. His white fluffy hair, always sticking out in different directions is wet. His white T-shirt is stuck to his chest, he breathes loudly, pulls his light eyebrows together and shushes through his teeth… In all the years that you've known each other, you've never had a normal conversation. But it doesn't seem to be necessary for any of you when you impulsively approach him and find his lips at random. You're fucking drunk giving Joost your first kiss. Joost doesn't push you away, and you beg him never to leave you again, he swears he won't leave you.…

— You'll never forget… — the blond man laughs slyly, resting his chin on your shoulder, you can feel his heart beating in his chest with your shoulder blades, and you want to tear out your own.…

A ringing slap in the face tears the air with a pop. The fatal couple, consisting of an failed singer, a party lover and the obedient daughter of rich parents, breaks up right in the hallway of the school. Now Joost's ex-girlfriend slaps him in the face. It's painful. But instead of at least saying something to her, Joost looks sideways with his icy blue eyes at you…

— Never… — you stutter, and tears come to your eyes… It's not even fair…

You have never said words of love to each other, never swore eternal feelings and promised nothing. You did not meet, did not touch each other, only with glances, only in whispers, only with short poems and songs.

— Never… — he whispers in response to your words, but the music interrupts him.…

And after that, Joost drops out of school, just leaves without even finishing his studies, he doesn't tell you a damn thing, just disappears after your long nights on the hood of his battered car, when you watched the stars with such love, each other…

You beg him to tell you why when he's packing his bags. You ask him to explain to you why when he buys train tickets. You whisper, «What about me?» When he just sighs softly and obediently turns away and goes deep into his house. You do not dare to follow him.

— And yet you left me… — you say, laughing softly, with irony, as lonely tears roll down your cheeks.

A few hours before his flight, you call him on the phone, ignoring the screaming music behind you, the laughter of people and… Joost knows perfectly well where you are, but only listens silently to your drunken pleas to come back, pick you up from this damn party, as he always did. Take you home and take care of you. Joost hangs up, you try again, you text him with loud sobs: — «Damn bastard, I love you!» — But it never reaches him, and a notification is displayed on your phone screen: «The contact blocked you.»

— And yet I left you. — Joost confirms your words. There's no need to lie, you both know everything.

The house opposite is now empty, you will no longer find any of the members of the little Klein family. And neither his friends nor classmates know where he is. After six months, you give up and stop looking for him…

— I was looking for you. — you're not lying, and, to tell the truth, all those five years that you were so far from each other, you kept looking for him. You kept looking until one day you came across a song with a familiar voice on the radio. You were ready to die to those damn lines: «Hearts on her shirt, kisses on her cheeks. Tears, behind which the eyes are not visible, she screamed after: You swore! And I blocked her contact with a bitter smile on my lips.»

— I'm sorry. — the only thing he says, and you don't know if he's really sorry, but you just nod. Tears are already streaming down your cheeks…

— I hate you. — your hands drop, and you finally open your eyes, which are glistening with tears, but still don't turn around.

— It's not true! — Joost exclaims almost resentfully in your ear and jerks you sharply.

In the five years that he was gone, you tried to live without him. You graduated from high school with honors and entered a prestigious university. You forbade yourself to listen to songs and all the art, it reminded you of only one person you've known for a long time.

Your tear-stained eyes express neither hatred nor contempt, only deep resentment when you meet the gaze of clear blue irises. Joost is still the same, although he is five years older. He's 26 now, and your age difference doesn't seem that surprising. Blond tousled hair, the same as before but shorter. Bright eyebrows, the same as eyelashes. He has grown a short beard and a small mustache above his plump lips, but it suits him. He smiles and… It's still the same smile. A smile you haven't seen in so long. And the smile you've been in love with for so long.

Joost suffered and tortured himself all these five years, but he knew that it was necessary, he knew that otherwise his dreams would not come true. Sacrifices were required, and unfortunately, on the way to his success, the first and biggest obstacle was you, and he decided that before it was too late, before things went too far, he needed to leave. But he loved you, loved you all these years, and you can't count the countless drafts and tracks that he wrote for you, but without releasing them in the hope that one day, when he returns, you will forgive him and listen to all these hundreds of tracks dedicated only to you with him. He had a lot of albums with your name on them.

— I don't want to see you anymore… — you mumble, your gaze slides down. You don't want to see his painted face anymore, he always hid behind the mask of his openness. But you knew how his heart could ache, how his hands could tremble, what his needy hugs could be. He needed you as much as you needed him, and yet…

Joost's eyes narrow, he shakes his head with a slight understanding smile on his lips, and then bends lower knowing that you will not pull away and whispers monotonously and hoarsely:

— Liar. — Joost concludes the verdict, crawling with his fingertips under your short top, wanting to feel you closer, wanting you…

— Which one of us is a liar here? — you laugh ironically and put your hand behind his head, tangling your fingers in his blond hair, they feel as soft as before and if you close your eyes you can probably believe that five years is not so much.

— Forgive me, honing(Honey)… — he does not dare to look into your eyes, even though you are looking for his gaze.

The crowd around you is pushing, jumping and shouting something loudly, the bright flashes of the spotlights hurt your eyes, make them water. You feel dizzy, your chest hurts, your legs can't hold you, and if it weren't for Joost's firm grip on your waist, you would have fallen. You wouldn't mind being trampled by a crowd. You wouldn't mind not seeing his face anymore, not feeling the air saturated with his scent…

And yet you can't take your eyes off his makeup, from his plump lips mutilated by a bitter smile. Even if he was regretting it wasn't that he left and left you. But he was definitely regretting for you.

— You know what, I won't forgive you, — you snort, biting your lip. Regret has long settled in your heart, and now, except for tears and aching pain, you can't seem to feel anything else.

— I know you hate me, — Joost freezes in front of your face, looks straight into your eyes, exhales hotly on your cracked, bleeding lips. — I know you love me. — he has an apologetic smile on his lips, but he doesn't regret anything when he touches your lips with a sweet kiss soaked in poison. You don't regret anything, biting his lips in return. The kiss is sour from the taste of blood, salty from the bitter tears rolling down your cheeks, and yet it's the only thing you want from each other.…

The sound of music is deafening, but your heart is beating much louder and your chest is constricted much more than from the touch of his lips. Joost pulls you to him, hugs you tightly, circles you, takes you out of the room. You know that tomorrow won't come. Joost's eyes are clear, clear, blue, almost transparent, so similar to the cloudless sky you looked at as a child. Behind the veil of tears, your eyes look like the cloudy sky that Joost looked at, holding back tears, at his father's funeral. And yet you whisper love to each other, and yet you beg not to leave.…

The loud, ear-piercing ringing of the alarm clock makes your heart skip a beat. You jump up clutching your aching head. The alcohol you drank yesterday makes itself felt and you slide back onto the soft pillow, smearing your bedroom with a blurry look. Fortunately, at least you are at home. A tired sigh leaves your lips and you jerk your head, a damn dream, a damn ghost with the face of your first love — Joost Klein. You roll over on your side and a single tear rolls down your cheek before you turn on your phone, open social media and notice hundreds of notifications. You're confused, your eyebrows furrow and you click on one of the links, looking closely at the photo with the caption: «Childhood friend of Joost Klein…»

In the photo, your eyes are glistening with alcohol, and your pupils are large and dark, your head is tilted back, a half-smile plays on your lips, and you look at the man in front of you in love, but his face is in shadow and you can hardly see anything. You feel awkward, even scared, confused. You straighten up, sit on the bed and zoom in on the image, noticing with a surprised «oh» traces of white paint on your face…

— Good morning, liefste(love). — a familiar hoarse, almost purring purring voice takes care of your ears, you freeze with your eyes wide open and turn to the door. There he stood at the threshold. Almost completely naked, with a rustic food tray in his hands and traces of remaining white makeup on his face. Joost Klein.

Your first and only love. Your first and last addiction. Your first and greatest pain.

— I brought us breakfast! — he laughs and talks as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't disappeared for five whole years and then returned without warning. You frown, the heart in your chest once again makes itself felt, but you shrug off the pain when you notice traces of pinkish kisses on Joost's face, neck, chest and arms. White paint and red lipstick mixed together. Joost grins, and you realize with surprise, but without any regrets, that the heart and the first kiss are now not the only thing that you gave him…

Don't post this anywhere without my permission!

I'm waiting for requests if there are any?

[kirikorik]

- What, never? Have you never fucked in public?

Joost Klein × fem!reader.

Summary: How about Joost getting under your skirt right at a party where there are a lot of people? He does it. You are a Eurovision participant. Age difference. The fem!reader is a virgin.

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+! Masturbation. Vaginal Fingering. Overstimulation. The reader is a virgin.

I don't know English. Maybe there are a lot of mistakes. ♡♡♡

Eurovision has ended, the Netherlands is the winning country. Joost Klein brings his country a resounding victory, and in just one day, people are snapping up all the tickets for his upcoming tour.

Joost is full of the joy of his victory, but the jubilant grin on his lips is no longer from the first place at Eurovision, but from the way you drunkenly squirm on his lap and cling to his bare torso.

The restaurant located on the ground floor of the hotel where all the Eurovision participants were accommodated is full of people. The party has been going on for several hours and many have managed to get drunk, continuing to dance merrily with each other. The room smells of sweat, wet bodies and alcohol. The music loudly beats the rhythms passing through the body in waves.

You're shaking with a hoarse sigh, you drank a little, but still managed to get drunk, but it made sense, you're among the winners. You have brought your country second place, but you are not upset. Joost's victory was well deserved.

Your eyes are running around the hall, because of the rapidly flashing light it is difficult to see something and only in rare flashes sometimes you notice familiar silhouettes. Your face is flushed, your lips are parted from the musty air, gasps come out of your mouth, but this is not because the room is hot, you casually turn around, fidgeting on Joost's right hip, your short skirt lifts up, and your hips rub against his jeans. You don't hear him chuckling when he notices it.

Joost holds in his left hand a glass with an iridescent liquid, some kind of cocktail, which he hastily took from the bartender. He brings it to his lips and takes a small sip, tickling your ribs with his fingertips.

You and Joost met a few days before the start of Eurovision, when all the artists were coming to the venue of the competition, and you were captured by what was waiting for you. You were young, even very young, and, to tell the truth, this was your first trip abroad, and you couldn't help but be proud that you were chosen among all the singers in your country. Of course, you were probably the most inexperienced, but you were talented and persistent, so you won and won again, bringing victory to your country. You should have been proud, and you knew it.

Your wet palm rests on Joost's forearm, his unbuttoned white shirt, sticking to his sweaty body, slipped under your delicate fingers, the singer's palm slid lower to your fitted skirt, ruffling the fabric. You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your lower abdomen burning and you prayed that moisture wouldn't show through your underwear and leave a mark on Joost jeans. To be honest, he would have liked it. You knew it by the way his eyes glittered when he looked at you. He hardly drank, so it was definitely not alcohol.

Joost got closer and closer to you throughout the party. At first, he just followed you around, then chatted and joked with you, then sat down next to you, leaving his friends, and then completely sat you on his lap, saying that he likes to admire you from this angle.

You were shy and inexperienced in this regard, and you usually ran away from all the guys who flirted with you. But Joost was confident in himself, and you liked him, so you stayed sitting on his hips, biting your cheek to sober up. If you'd had a little more to drink, you could have groped him without a twinge of conscience. Joost wouldn't mind touching you back. To be honest, he did it by lowering his calloused hot palms lower and lower to the edge of your skirt. His piercing light blue eyes were fixed on you, and it seems that you were his alcohol at this party. Was anyone against it? Of course not, and everyone was so drunk that they didn't even notice how you and Joost hid in a dark corner of the hall on a soft sofa.

— Joost… — you began hesitantly, realizing that all this was approaching something forbidden, and you were used to avoiding feelings, running away from everything that could harm you in this way.

In your youth, you had an unpleasant experience with what boys were like in adolescence. You were often molested, tried to touch you and all the other nasty things. That's why you've never had a relationship, not even a kiss with a boy.

And now everything was going to the point that you could lose yourself with a man who would probably return to his country tomorrow and leave you. You've only known each other for a couple of weeks, and although you like Joost, you weren't sure that all his vulgar jokes, flirting and flirting meant something serious. He wasn't that kind of person and he didn't seem to need a relationship. Just have fun and relax… You weren't ready for this, but you thought that maybe, for the first time in a long time, you should just put aside your fear and give in to fleeting feelings. Are you going to lose something? Maybe a piece of yourself, but you'll give it to Joost. A handsome, tall, blue-eyed blond man. Maybe it was a good idea.…

— What is it, Schat?(sweetie) — the singer moved closer to you and leaned into your ear. His voice was hoarse and caring… your stomach is cramping, your chest is constricting. Joost was older, he was more experienced and brazenly took advantage of it, finding your erogenous zones: earlobes, nape, ribs, knees…

— I need to leave… — you muttered, running your gaze from side to side, not daring to look Joost in the face. You tried to stand up, your legs didn't hold you well, and you put your hand on Joost's hip, looking for support. Your ears burned and your cheeks turned purple in an instant, you took your breath away from the realization that your fingers were on his groin, you froze in confusion…

There was a low, hoarse laugh, Joost barely noticeably swung his pelvis forward, and his right palm wrapped around your waist, easily pulling you to him. You didn't resist when the singer pressed his whole body against you, his naked torso tickling the skin of your back. You felt your toes go numb with tension, your whole body tensed and seemed to stop obeying you. A barely audible sigh escaped your lips from the friction of your ass against Joost's groin, there were only thin panties under your upturned skirt.

Joost swung forward harder, leaning on you with his whole body, a few drops of alcohol fell on your bare knee, accidentally spilling from a glass.

— Girl, do you want to leave already? — Joost cooed, scorching your neck with his hot breath. Goosebumps ran down your back, and your hips twitched when the blond man leaned on your hip with his left elbow. A sweet smile appeared on Joost's lips. You were so sensitive.…

Joost remembered the first time he saw you, when you were standing in the lobby of the hotel and looking for someone who could help you, he decided to be a good guy and came up to you. You blinked so confusedly, opened and closed your plump lips, not knowing what to say, how to explain what you need. Joost liked to look at you with relaxed eyes with a floating half-smile, he was polite when he introduced himself to you and helped you find the administration. You looked like a lost fawn, and he couldn't leave you, not when his skin itched from how innocently you looked at him with your big eyes.

— I'm not. — you muttered with trembling lips, your palms clutched at his arm around your waist, but you didn't try to pull away. The way he was breathing down your back made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Joost knew it damn well, pressing his wet lips to your neck in a light half kiss, at the same moment the palm lying on your waist moved down, sliding to your hips, he lifted the edge of your short skirt with his thumb, and you arched in the back…

Your second meeting took place on the ground floor in the hotel dining room at breakfast, you approached him again and thanked him for «saving» you, and Joost invited you to have breakfast with him and his friends. No one has ever laughed so much at his stupid and vulgar jokes like you. You were so innocent and so vicious that his fingers were numb with excitement.

— Little liar, — Joost sang in your ear. You didn't see him, but you felt him. Joost was looking at you rapaciously and greedily, you could barely see the blue iris behind his black pupils when he squeezed the inside of your thigh and brazenly climbed under your skirt. You didn't push him away, but you prayed that no one would see you.…

Then Joost noticed you from afar at a training performance on stage, he couldn't see you well, but he recognized your voice perfectly. You hit the high notes damn well and he thought dirty about how your moans would sound…Then something flashed through his mind.

— Do you like this lieverd?(sweetie) — Joost laughed playfully, slapping you on the hip, his hands sliding higher.You couldn't help but whimper, his pollen touched the wet spot on your panties. Damn you. You jerked your hips and squeezed his hand in a dumb impulse to either stop him or not let him take his hand away. Joost bit your earlobe and leaned forward with his hips, making a push…

And then he met you at your dressing room dressed in the dress you were supposed to be performing in. You had damn angel wings on your back. Your dress hugged all your beautiful curves, the slits on your clothes exposed your body. It was damn cheeky, damn sexy. He called you a vicious angel and his dick ached in his pants…

You felt Joost's arousal through his jeans, and your temples were cramped, there was such tension in your head that it seemed like something was about to burst and you would lose consciousness. You were against it, you wanted to know what would happen next… You lied to yourself that you wanted to stop all this and stop…

—Damn attractive, sweet angel, — he chuckled hoarsely, rubbing his cheekbone against your cheek and licking his dry lips. His fingers moved, tugging at your aching, throbbing clit through the fabric of your panties. You tensed your whole body, closed your eyes, arched even more, fidgeting on his horny cock. Joost shushed, shaking his pelvis in response.

— Joost, I've never… — you let out a low, agonized moan, leaning your head back against his shoulder. The glass of ice he was holding in his other hand, resting his elbow on your hip, touched your knee, and you flinched.

— What, never? — Joost cooed, running his tongue over your sweaty neck. His rough fingers impatiently pushed back the edge of your panties, he pressed three fingers to your aching pussy and lightly slapped. If it weren't for the deafening rhythms of the music, you would have heard your cunt squelching. — Have you never fucked in public? — he mumbled again, almost meowing like a cat. Joost's thumb tugged at your clitoris again, making you moan.

You're so pliant and crying in his arms. Your nails dig into his hand, and you shake your head no. Joost's white eyebrows rise in surprise:

— Baby, don't tell me that these are the first fingers touching your beautiful pussy? — his voice was muffled and deep. It was getting harder and harder for him to control himself.

You nodded in the affirmative. Virgin. A damn virgin dripping on his fingers in a room full of people. Joost has never felt like such a bastard before. For the first time, Joost liked feeling like such a freak. He set you liberating, made you flow on his fingers…

— Schat(honey), you… — he couldn't breathe. Joost's cock twitched in his jeans, and his balls throbbed. He leaned forward with his pelvis, pulling you towards him, pressing two fingers into your pussy. They barely entered, but you're already whining, it's almost unfair that you're so narrow. — Oh… — Joost let out a guttural moan and buried his nose in your shoulder, squeezing your aching clitoris with his fingers. What would it be like if he came in your pussy? Would you whimper, begging him to stop fiddling with your clitoris? Joost would be gentle and caring for your first time, even tremulous, even very…

— Please… — you asked, moving your hips forward, slightly impaling yourself on his thumbs. So small and tight, so spoiled by him. Joost growled briefly through his teeth and began to lay a trail of kisses along your neck to the back of your head, accelerating his movements. From the outside, you could only see how Joost eagerly snuggles up to you, hugs you, and how your skirt bounces from the movement of his hand, no more, no less.

— Please what? Liefje?(love) — he cooed, inhaling your scent, excitement oozed over your skin, his cock twitched again and it hurt so much that his eyes went dark when you pressed your ass into his groin. Naughty girl…

— I want to… I want to… — you couldn't speak anymore. All disheveled, wet, sweaty and horny. Your cheeks are red, your lips are swollen from bites, and your eyes are tightly squeezed shut. You cried so sweetly on his fingers that Joost decided to feel sorry for you. He smiled into your shoulder and completely plunged one of his fingers into you, tugging your clitoris a few more times, making you clench with a loud, big sob. Fortunately, it couldn't be heard over the music.

Your hips shook, your knees twitched a few times, and your nails dug into his arm until you bled, which you clung to like a lifeline. Joost hissed through his teeth, clicking his tongue and squeezing your clitoris even harder, watching with admiration how your back tightens and arches towards him. How your plump lips open, saliva flows down your chin. How your beautiful eyes roll with pleasure. He penetrates deeper into your pussy, feeling your sticky arousal already flowing down his arm.

—Come on, Schat(honey)… — he croaked before you jerked your hips again and came on his damn tattooed fingers. Your ears pop and you can barely hear the music, enjoying the way he enters you with his fingers a few more times deep enough for your cunt to shrink around them. And then he breaks his palm out from under your skirt and squeezes your chin with his fingers smeared in your shiny moisture and turns it to himself. His eyes are burning, his pupils engulfing you as he digs into your lips demanding pushing his tongue into your mouth. You're moaning, writhing in his urns, still unable to function properly…

— Joost… — you moan softly as he pulls away and continues to admire your flushed face, shiny from the marks of his fingers smeared in your lubricant. A predatory grin plays on his lips as he picks up a half-empty glass with the remaining alcohol and drinks the entire drink at once.

— Liefje(love), are you ready to continue? — he asks hoarsely in a low voice, looking at you with shining eyes, and, of course, you do not refuse him. You're swallowing. Joost stretches his lips in a confident grin and licks his dry lips before hugging you around the waist, getting up and quickly dragging you to the elevator leading to his room.

It's unlikely that you'll be able to go home tomorrow as planned. If you can get out of his bed at all. Because Joost plans not to take his dick out of you until dawn, and your pussy will definitely hurt for the next week, and maybe longer, if you still agree to go on tour with him…

In the morning, clutching your naked, exhausted, still trembling body, Joost unlocks his phone and sees a bunch of notifications. Clicking on one of the links, he will find a video from the party in poor quality and several photos in which, oh shit, you and Joost were. They show you hugging. And just as clearly you can see Joost's hand sliding under your skirt. The blond man smiles slyly and pats you on the head, already imagining how you will have to shamefacedly explain to journalists and reporters what is going on between you and Joost Klein.

— She's my girlfriend. — Joost Klein brazenly and confidently declares this evening in front of his fans. You probably don't mind…

Don't post this anywhere without my permission!

[kirikorik]

Jealousy - Liefje, do you agree to become completely mine?

Joost Klein × fem!reader.

Warnings: Aggression and jealousy. Kisses! Non-canonical behavior. I don't know English/maybe there are a lot of mistakes. This is my first post!

Summary: You and Joost are best friends. You meet another guy backstage at Joost's concert. Joost is jealous and angry... Aggression/jealousy and resentment...

♡♡♡

The beats of the music are passing through your body in waves. Your eyes are watering from how fast the floodlights on the stage are flashing while you are hiding behind the scenes. Your eyes are glued to the dancing Joost, he shouts something loudly in front of the his fans and raises his hands up in response to the cheers.

A slight smile appears on your lips when he picks up a water bottle standing on the edge of the stage and after taking a few sips pours the water over his head. It's damn hot outside and even though he's wearing a T-shirt and shorts, his body is covered in sticky sweat anyway and his blond hair sticks out in different directions.

You met Joost quite a long time ago, even before his first tour and before he became so popular. But fortunately, even with the advent of his fame, he did not forget about you. You often went with him to his concerts and came to his studio where he recorded his songs, you even starred in one of his videos…

Your heart started beating faster when you looked back at Joost, kneeling in front of a crowd of his fans. Something turned over in your stomach from how fast he was moving, how he was imitating… explicit movements. You wanted to bring your legs together because of a pleasantly aching feeling. But you couldn't do it. Or rather, you didn't dare, because Joost turned his head in your direction, repeating this vulgar movement with his pelvis, and grinned when he saw how you looked away. Fortunately, from a distance, he couldn't see how red your face was.

Joost is your best friend, and you can't feel the way you feel about him right now. You just can't. Firstly, because it is wrong in relation to your friendship. And secondly, because you were sure that Joost wouldn't reciprocate, he's not that kind of person. Joost could flirt with anyone, could grope, of course, by mutual consent. He could even kiss someone if the person didn't mind. But he never kissed you, never touched you, and never touched you with more meaning than as a friend. Only you. But it was for the best, otherwise you weren't sure you could hold back your feelings.…

You turned around with your arms crossed over your chest. The concert was already coming to an end, there were one or two songs left, so you hurried to the back of the stage to wait for Yost there. But, thoughtfully looking around, you did not notice the man approaching you and crashed into him.

— Oh! — a surprised exclamation burst out of your chest. You should check where you're going more often. — Excuse me!

— No need to apologize. I was lucky that such a beautiful angel crashed into me. — the guy said with a sweet smile. You recognized him almost immediately. It was Marcus, one of the interns helping on the tour. You met him a few days ago in the dressing room when he was helping the staff, then you had coffee and chatted a little…

— I… oh...... Thank you… — you began hesitantly, embarrassed by the compliment. You looked at the guy: black hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, shirt and jeans, nothing special. No tattoos, no fancy hairstyle, no accessories of any kind. The exact opposite of Joost. But honestly, you're not upset about it. You needed a distraction a long time ago. Otherwise, you might go crazy soon. A playful smile appeared on your lips. — You're that guy from the dressing room — Marcus, right?

— Yes, and you are that pretty girl — T/n. — Marcus nodded affirmatively, smiling in response. Sparkling and without a grin, as Joost always did. But still, his gaze slid over your body, tight jeans and T-shirt. His smile widened, and there was something dangerous in it. You didn't care what it meant, because right now you just wanted to take your mind off Joost.

— That's right. — you answered, squinting, looking into Marcus's brown eyes with a half smile. — Listen, would you like to have coffee with me again sometime? Relax and unwind? — you asked decisively, licking your dry lips. A drop of sweat rolled down your back. It seems Marcus didn't take your offer quite right:

— How can I refuse a date to a girl like that? Especially with… — his voice trembled, Marcus cast a casual glance at your chest and moved closer to you. — I think you should relax in my car, it's been a busy day, we could have some privacy there… — the brunette grunted vulgarly, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable. He wasn't the exact opposite of Joost, but he was someone much worse. Marcus moved closer to you, wanting to hug you around the waist, but you almost jumped back in fright, now you didn't want to relax or rest.

— Today? — you drawled uncertainly. — I'm not sure what… — you mumbled in embarrassment. Your eyes darted from side to side in search of something that could save you now. It was a shame that you suggested it yourself, wanted it yourself, and now you were running away in fright… You've always done that.

You got goosebumps between your shoulder blades. Someone was looking at you, but before you could turn around, someone's hand was on your shoulder. You were yanked to the side, hugging your neck with the bend of your elbow, pressing you against a wet, sticky body. It was Joost. You realized this when, out of surprise, you put your palms on his ribs. Under his translucent white wet T-shirt sticking to his skin, prominent muscles showed. It was… The tips of your ears were on fire, but the scariest thing happened when you raised your head…

Someone else's lips touched your lips sharply, greedily and brazenly. You opened your eyes dazedly, but Joost looked sideways while sweetly running his tongue over your closed lips, wanting to penetrate inside. You tried to push him away, but he held you even tighter. His piercing, ice-like eyes darted to you, and his lips stretched into a smile during the kiss. In a dangerous grin.

— Lieverd?(sweetie) — Joost grinned, casting a questioning glance at you, you noticed discontent in him. He was tense. Then the blond man looked at Marcus again with more menace. The guy cowered under Joost's icy, menacing gaze. — I've only left you for a couple of hours, and you're already flirting with some vulgar intern? Am I not enough for you? — he sang sarcastically, pulling you even closer, forcing you to bury your face in his shoulder. Joost smelled of sweat, dirt, something muscular and something else… tickling your receptors, which made your knees buckle. Your fingers are intertwined, and your nails are digging into his skin. You could still feel his angry kiss on your lips.

— I… — frowning, offended by Joost's words, Marcus wanted to object, but did not have time, because Joost immediately shushed him in his own manner, clicking his tongue. He looked at the brunette contemptuously, and he had to close his mouth. It's the first time you've seen your best friend… is it right to call him that now? Is this the first time you've seen him jealous? Exactly. Joost would never allow himself to humiliate someone for no reason if that person is a stranger to him. Only if he was very annoyed, upset or very angry about something. Joost was. The hand on your shoulder tightened, his rough fingers stroked your cheekbone, and you snuggled closer to Joost, feeling goosebumps running through your body.

— Boy, can you leave us alone? I need to chat with my girlfriend. — the blond man casually rolled his eyes, thrusting his free palm into the pocket of his trousers. You were still silent, not knowing what to say, your head was empty, too empty.

Marcus just nodded and tried to escape as quickly as possible, probably offended and a little humiliated by the fact that he was flirting with the girlfriend of an artist at whose concert he was moonlighting as an intern. A moment after you were alone with Joost, you were abruptly moved and pressed against the hard surface of a brick wall. Your breath was taken away and your chest tightened. It was shameful to admit that his jealousy, although it was unclear for what reason, caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Especially that angry look in his blue eyes, the way he was breathing fast and how his chest was heaving, and perhaps how wet, disheveled bangs fell on his high forehead, or how he towered over you with a direct threat and how his big palms squeezed your forearms not allowing you to escape. You were in a cage, but you liked it, even though you looked confused.

— Naughty girl, — Joost bent down and scorched your flushed face with his hot breath, you cringed and tried to instinctively move, but the blond immediately put his knee between your legs, tilting his head sideways and grunting: — You will not escape.

— Joost, I don't understand what… — you began to mumble, not daring to look into his eyes, but immediately the blond squeezed your chin, demanding to look only at him, pressing on you with his whole body. You're lying when you say you didn't like it.

— You all understand what love is, — Joost laughed low and hoarsely, licking his dry lips, you glanced at them, and he lifted the corners of his lips in a grin. — Did you want to make me jealous? Nervous? — he chattered, bending over your red ear. You felt something tighten in your lower abdomen, and instinctively clamped Yost's leg between your hips. He noticed this action by casting a gloomy glance down, swinging his knee and immediately returning his gaze to your flushed face. «You did it, girl. I was insanely jealous and I was ready to hit this freak just for coming up to you. Yost whined out loud, pressing his wet torso against you, wanting intimacy. His nerves and hormones were running high, his fists itched, and God knows what else… You swallowed, turning away guiltily, but then frowned. A bitter realization came.

— We are not dating and we are not a couple. You didn't have to… — you muttered discontentedly, turning away. And really, what does he think he is, to take and kiss you like that, to threaten… Joost's grip became tighter, the heat between your thighs became more and more difficult to contain. You wanted to cry and hit Joost so hard at the same time.… He's such a jerk, but you'd hate yourself for any of these actions. You already hated yourself for loving him.

— I don't care. — the singer immediately grumbled jealously through his teeth, lowering his palm to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it as if wanting to squeeze it harder. You liked the contrast. Joost liked to keep you in check, to himself. — You're mine. — he chuckled, bending down to your temple, smearing his lips on the edge of your ear. — I just haven't had time to propose to you yet, he said casually. — you frowned in surprise, what, what proposal?! A proposal? What?!

Joost ran his tongue over his teeth. You knocked him off balance, made him feel a nagging pain in his chest. When he saw some freak flirting with you, making vulgar jokes and offering you privacy... he snapped. Joost would have killed him if you'd agreed to go with that damn Marcus in his car. In truth, it was his mistake that you still aren't dating. He just wasn't sure he could be a good guy for you. Even if he's a bad guy, he can't watch others want you anymore. You were beautiful, and Joost was so damn selfish, so he didn't care. He doesn't care about others because you're his girl, no one else can touch you.

— Liefje(my love), do you agree to become completely mine? — He croaked... knowing the answer damn well…

Don't post this anywhere without my permission!