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joosthead · 2 days ago

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summer song || j.k. x f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ after such a lovely day, you want to repay the favor.

₊˚⊹⋆ set the night of tt, the day after jtsfaoi

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader. notfamous!reader. normal au a.k.a. reader has an office job and attends university. reader is not dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 5.6k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (established relationship, rimming, frotting, pegging, f sitting on m face, subby joosti:3), let’s pretend butts and buttholes exist as sterile environments ok, genuine cbat reference

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “summer song” by remy bond, “we’ve only just begun” by the carpenters

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: harness (nsfw? lol it’s…a harness) i started my fic writing career writing gay fanfiction—i very much missed writing m!receiving anal <3. i would really recommend having google translate out for this one!! i dont tend to provide translations 😅 unedited and cheesy as per usual. @howisjoostfanfictionforfree partner in crime yet again!!

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

After such a relaxing, sleepy day with Joost, you should be more tired than you feel—instead, you lie awake, legs hanging over the long side of your bed in silence as you wait for him to come to bed.

You’ve just dried off after a shower together—washing Joost’s back, washing his hair for him even after he whined about the soap getting in his eyes, kissing and kissing until your mouths tasted like lavender and chemicals and the water had run cold.

Before that, right after you’d had your day in the sun next to the pool, Joost cleaned you up, and you dressed back up in each other’s clothes, kissing up the stairs back into your house, bumping into your door, stumbling over the droplets of water his hair dripped all over your hardwood and into the kitchen.

Joost flung the refrigerator open and you scolded him for treating it so roughly—he apologized to it, and you smiled when he did, getting things out of the pantry for you two as he rummaged through it.

When you first got to know Joost, he said he couldn’t cook or clean; you said that wouldn’t fly with you, and now five years later, there he was, humming his own tune as he chopped ingredients and assembled open faced sandwiches with whatever you had left in the fridge, overloading both of them with what you liked and putting what you didn’t like (usually food he loved) on his own sandwich.

The two of you finished making your meal, you took them outside and sat on the loungers together for a bit before you ran back in for a bag of chips to crush up and crumble over your sandwiches—“You’re a genius, I think,” he said after you’d sprinkled the crumbs over his, and you laughed as you fed him another chip.

For a few hours, you napped on the couch in a messy pile on top of each other, deep in slumber from your full stomachs and hearts and shared exertion from your session on the lounger, a few hours worth of Dutch cartoons, a few hours of your cat making muffins on Joost’s back and him pretending not to like it, a few hours of sweating on each other until you felt gross and decided to take your shower together.

Joost comes walking in, white towel low around his waist, water still dripping from the tips of his hair as he stands in front of your shared dresser, in front of the mirror. You sit up on your elbows to watch him; a pink towel in his hands and rubbing his hair out of the extra moisture. This must be torture, you think, how he’s got you on the edge of your seat with nothing but his back and shoulders on display for you.

He shakes his hair out of the pink towel; drops the white one and opens the drawer. “You’re staring again, lieverd,” he says, rummaging through.

You truly can’t help it; the curves of his hips and ass, the dimples at the base of his spine, every spot and freckle on him you know by heart all for you to observe. His shoulders are pinkish—not as bad of a burn as you thought, but still enough to earn you some whining from him for the next day or two.

“Turn around.”

He does for you, and you move to sit on the edge of the bed, and he stands in between your legs. Joost is impossibly beautiful—you place a hand on his waist, rubbing your thumb over his Rayquaza tattoo, scanning his body with your eyes.

You are lucky, and you know it.

Thighs dusted with hair so blonde it almost looks invisible—you could almost forget that he has a tattoo of a minion in a maid costume on his right leg as it stares you in the face.

“Still can’t believe you got that,” you say, even though you fully believe it.

“Can't believe you let me.”

Soft and hanging heavy between his legs, thick blonde hair at the base of it—under the gaze of you, he’s starting to harden, and you look up at him. Joost averts his eyes, looking to the side as the blush creeps up his neck, down his chest.

Usually so eager, never one to hide—your boyfriend the performer rendered bashful and almost hiding behind his arms as you lower your hand to his hip and squeeze, the silvery thin marks and stretched lines of his growing under your fingertips. You like running your fingers over them, the way he likes touching yours.

“You make me shy when you look at me like that, schat.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

He nods, placing a hand on your cheek. “I guess that is fair, hm?”

You melt into his touch, so warm even with the fan on high and the windows flung wide open—if you hadn’t been so relaxed after earlier, you two would be part of the droves of clubgoers tonight walking and laughing past your house on the way to the center of the action.

His touch isn’t the only thing that’s warm—you’re wearing one of his big t-shirts that reaches down to your thighs, a skimpy pair of old cotton underwear, legs bare but your chest and neck are hot with what it feels like to look at him in this state.

“Joosti,” you say softly, cupping his half-hard shaft. “I want you again,” looking up at Joost as he cups your face in his hands.

Bending down to kiss your forehead, he mumbles, “We will get dirty again. You don’t mind?”

“We can take another shower together.”

“If you say so, mijn schat.” Straightening up, Joost brings the pendants of your necklaces from the back of your neck to your collarbone as you wrap your hand around his cock—you didn’t even know they were displaced. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not tired at all,” you say, alert as can be as you tighten your grip around him just slightly. He sighs when you jerk him once, twice, getting him harder with every moment. “Can we make up for yesterday?” Leaning forward, you lap at his nipple and he sighs, eyebrows furrowing but face filled with pleasure at your slick hand, your eyes on him. You want him like this more than anything

“Cover your eyes,” Joost says, placing his two fingers over the eyes of his maid minion and you laugh. “We already made up for yesterday.” You hum in acknowledgement as you push him to step back slightly with your fingers on his thigh. “And also, there is nothing to make up. You needed your time, that’s okay.” Absentmindedly, you nod as you pet at his cock, feeling it grow with your grip on him, how you stroke him up and down so he reaches full hardness. He’s fully hard in little to no time, your mouth on his nipple, swirling around it, the soft sounds falling out of his mouth now. “Can I remind you, you have work tomorrow? We can’t stay up too long.”

“We can.” You decide in an instant—you’ll down a Red Bull tomorrow morning or something, call out maybe. Anything for this. “Lie down.”

Despite Joost’s previous refusals, he lies down so easily, so lazy, flopping down on his back against your pillows and giving himself a few slow strokes as you crawl between his legs, lying stomach down.

You lay your cheek against Joost’s soft thigh as he gazes at you, as you gaze at him. He cups your cheek with the hand that isn’t jerking himself, and you nuzzle into it, kissing his palm, his fingertips, sucking around his thumb when he hooks it between your teeth, pupils blown, the light mood between you two all but forgotten when you move to his cock.

A stream of pre spurts out of the sticky tip and you lap it up slowly, keeping Joost’s eyes on you as lick at the slit, the taste salty as you mouth and lick where the crown and the shaft meet, earning you a few breathy moans.

“Je bent een droom,” Joost says softly as you kiss along his length.

“I’m a dream?” you ask, knowing the answer. You knew what he said.

He nods—“You’re a dream,” he says, and you believe it.

“Do you say that ‘cause I have my mouth on your dick?”

“Don’t be so crude,” he scolds, rolling his eyes and sounding like you, and you laugh. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say softly, kissing him on the downy skin between his cock and his navel, nosing against his happy trail. “Thank you for today.”

“You’re saying thank you enough today.” Joost’s breath hitches as you take the tip in your mouth and suck, hollowing your cheeks around him as you take his inches into your mouth. He brushes your hair out of the way; you swallow around him and he groans with the tightness of your throat when you get half down.

“Like that, fuck,” Joost breathes as you bob your head, lips wrapped around him and trying to take more until you can’t, until your eyes water and you have to come off of him with a quiet gasp, letting the extra spit drip out of your mouth and onto his cock when you jerk him.

“Too much?” he teases, and you roll your eyes. Joost takes your chin in his hand and squishes your cheeks, making a happy little sound which you know is a substitute for him calling you cute.

“Never enough, honestly,” you sigh, a smirk playing on your lips as you stroke him. “You’re changing the sheets by the way.”

“Mean!! You’re so mean!!” he laughs, poking your forehead gently in fake annoyance. “I was always going to change the sheets after this.”

“Always enough, mijn schat,” you say quietly, slinking back up to him to have your faces close together. “I tease, I know, but I’m so thankful for you.”

Joost presses his lips to yours, one hand around your waist. “Stop with the thank you, I’m serious—I don’t need it, I want to do this for you,” he says when you pull away.

You brush back his hair and press another kiss to his lips, gazing at him. “I’ll be saying thank you for the rest of my life, Joost, I’m not gonna stop now.”

For some reason, he looks surprised—so many years together, not a lot of things to be surprised about anymore, and especially not that sentiment. It took a while to get here, yes—but you’ll spend the rest of your time together proving you mean it. You admire Joost’s face and his strong nose, the stubble along his jaw, the pink lips you’ve kissed all the time since that day in December 2019, his hay colored eyelashes batting at you in wonder.

“The rest of your life, lieverd? You mean it?”

“Always,” you smile, nodding. “Get used to it, you’ll hear it forever.”

You come back down between Joost’s legs, a small pool of precum on his stomach from how long you've neglected his cock. It twitches when you look at it, spurts more of the clear fluid when you wrap your hand around it and slap it against your tongue gently. “You’re fucking crazy,” he breathes, and you laugh as you feed it into your warm mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking around him.

Joost is pathetically loud almost all the time, and he’s no different now, mewls and happy sounds tumbling out of him, the slurp of your mouth and your attempts to get the spit from spilling out the sides of your lips.

Once you come up off him, you lick along the underside of his shaft, the length of his cock, taking time to lap at his slit again.

You come down and lick at the seam of his balls, popping one into your mouth momentarily as you jerk him; you let go, and then you come down even further, nudge his legs back, lick at his perineum to watch as his cock twitches with every lick of your tongue on his skin, watch as he sucks in a hiss through his teeth and then throws his head back and laughs.

“What are you doing, baby?” you smile as you kiss at the soft skin there. “Fuck, I can’t believe you sometimes.”

“Testing the waters,” you say simply, kissing at the base of his shaft.

“For what?”

“You know what.”

You look towards your dresser—three drawers down on the right is one filled with toys over the years, many duplicates, one for each of you. There’s only one kind of toy that’s for Joost only—the assortment of anal toys and straps that you’ve got mixed in there, relatively new to the arsenal but already well loved by both of you.

“You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish,” Joost says, even when you lick once over his hole and it makes his entire body spasm, how sensitive he is.

“You think I can’t finish it?”

“You wanna?”

“Do you want to?” you press a few wet kisses to his perineum, stroking him as you do.

“How could I say no to you, lieverd?”

You get up off your stomach, squeezing his thick thigh as you shimmy down your underwear, leaving it on the bed—“If you want it, get me off first.” You don’t need an answer to sit yourself where you belong; your thighs on his cheeks, your knees near his ears as he grins up at you, laughing. “What is it?”

“You say it as if it’s a punishment to do this—I’ve been waiting since morning to eat you out again.”

Shaking your head, you adjust so you won’t squish him so bad, but he pulls you closer, kissing your inner thighs. “You say I’m crazy.”

“We can both be crazy,” Joost says, gazing at you between the legs so intensely you might scramble off him and hide. “Now sit.”

Gently, you lower yourself down onto his mouth, sighing when he licks through you, insatiable. Joost hooks his arms around your thighs, big blue eyes looking up at you, fingers parting your lips so he can have direct access to your clit—he wraps his pink lips around it, sucks hard, earning him a succession of loud moans out of your mouth. He flattens his tongue against you, drinking you in, the wet sounds of his mouth and your pussy making your cheeks burn.

Your hands grip at his hair as you keen, losing control with how well he’s eating you; one arm unhooks itself from your thigh, but you pay it no mind when he fucks his tongue into you a few thrusts in, the sensation filthy. You sigh out, eyebrows knitting together with the effort it takes to stay upright, one hand in his hair, the other on the wire bed frame. Turning your head around, you watch and see—see Joost’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself, and you turn back to click your tongue at your poor, misbehaved boyfriend.

“Mm-mm,” you say, shaking your head. “Did I say you could do that?” You lift up off his mouth to let him get a word in and he shakes his head, lips glistening.

“No, schat, you didn’t,” he breathes heavily, smiling up at you.

“That’s right,” you say softly, smiling when he moves his hand from his cock to the meat of your ass. “Good boy. Don’t do that again.”

Again, you sit yourself on Joost’s tongue, having to stifle back a moan immediately when he sucks on your clit again, a few minutes passing against the background of your heavy moans, the smack of his mouth against you.

You’ve no composure now, your bucking hips allowing you to grind on his tongue, losing yourself with your impending orgasm, your breaths and whimpers at how good he feels under you—you cum hard, having to hold onto the bed frame with both hands as Joost keeps sucking on your clit, sobbing out his name as you ride his tongue and ride it out.

Once you’ve made it through, Joost switches to licking through your folds, tasting you, slow and methodical. The overstimulation makes you wince, squeezing his head between your thighs, and he laughs, the vibrations of his voice making you twitch and lift up off him as you catch your breath, gazing down at him.

“The longest we have gone without bickering, schat,” Joost says, licking his lips of your wetness, his chin and cheeks glistening in the light.

“Mm, you’re not wrong,” you laugh, limbs light as feathers with how blissful you feel as you climb off and go between his legs again, his neglected cock hard as ever. “Let’s take care of that,” you purr, and Joost nods profusely, making you laugh as you push back his legs, as you press a wet kiss to his hole, a lick over it as he moans out your name.

Slowly, you flatten your tongue against it, letting your spit pool as you lap at his entrance. Joost throws his head back in pleasure, groaning when you pull back and spit on it, rubbing over it with your thumb, pushing in slightly and licking around his rim to a loud whine from him.

“Get the lube,” you say, pulling away from Joost as you wait for the top drawer to open and shut, his hushed cursing when he has to rummage around for longer than he’d like. He’s the one who threw it in haphazardly after last time—you’d tease him about it, but he has enough things to worry about with his twitching and angry pink cock.

Finally, Joost gets it out and hands it to you, breathless; you uncap it, drizzling it onto your fingers, spreading it over his hole as he hisses through his teeth at the sensation. When you push in with your middle finger, it makes him shudder, sigh out—he gives so easily to you, strokes himself but has to stop as soon as he starts because it’s all too much. You stroke your finger inside of him once you push in to the knuckle, rubbing at his perineum with your other hand.

Joost pants out your name, hand around the bed frame as he looks down at you, eyebrows scrunched, mouth open and contorting soundlessly when you add your ring finger, teasing his hole—maybe it’s too much all at once, but you know he’ll take it.

One finger and you’ve gotten him so flushed, so pretty, his platinum bangs sticking to his forehead, the sheen of sweat on his chest and stomach. You’re not even moving them quickly, slowing down the curling so you’re petting over his spot gently, almost tantalizingly, at least to you.

For Joost, you’re sure it’s a blur—his voice so shaky, the inside of him is hot around you and squeezing your fingers as you watch him almost in your own state of wonder as he inhales and exhales so heavily it’s as if he’s calming himself down for you. This angle must be nice, right? Is it so different for him the way it is for you? Is this what you look like, writhing and hungry for you and what you’ll do inside?

The squelch of your fingers, wet, weird because it isn’t coming from you for once; the grip of your other hand, tight, strange because it’s your hand around his hip keeping him from squirming so much and not the other way around; the stuttering, whiny exhales falling from his mouth, familiar and breathtaking, raspy and deep still because it’s Joost, your Joost.

“Yes, right there, schat,” Joost moans, closing his eyes when you curl your fingers where you know his prostate is, scissoring them and opening him up more so he’s comfortable and ready for your strap, your favorite out of the ones you own—silicone, the color of your skin and around 6 inches long, Joost’s favorite, too.

You’ve worked up sizes over the past year: small silicone plugs to slightly longer, ribbed glass dildos, and finally, the several straps of varying sizes you've both been keen to try out on him now that he’s ready—he brought it up over your 3rd anniversary dinner in Aruba, tipsy and blushing and beautiful, and it caught you off guard. How shy he was, how he could barely get the words out until you begged him for 10 minutes to tell you because you wanted to know so badly what it was, exactly what he wanted.

Joost tells you what he wants now, no waver in his voice, no hesitation as he sobs out your name, clutching onto sheets, clutching onto metal when you add a third finger and keep your rhythm curling them, his hips thrusting into the air and then fucking back onto your fingers.

Outside your open window, the commotion has quieted down—you’re sure that your boyfriend, crying out and desperate is the only sound echoing on these Amsterdam streets, but neither of you mind. They’d be lucky to hear him anyways.

A few minutes of this, opening him up further until he’s groaning out, practically crying. “Mijn liefste, wees niet gemeen, wees alsjeblieft niet gemeen tegen me,” he pants, shaking his head at you when you pout at him teasingly. “I’m serious, give it to me.”

“I’m giving it to you right now, aren’t I?”

“You know what I mean, please, please, please,” Joost breathes, and you nod, pulling your fingers out and getting off the bed, even as he swears at the absence of you inside of him—what he gets, you guess as you rummage around the drawer for your black leather harness and the strap.

You set it all up for yourself—for him, feeling Joost’s eyes on you at the side of the bed, tightening straps and setting things into place. You strip off your shirt; it’s too hot now, even as you turn around and a breeze comes in through the window, running over you. It’s strong enough, he’s sensitive enough that the wind makes his hips buck into the air.

That look on his face—shy and sheepish, one you earn every time you show up at a show unexpected and he’s humped yet another speaker, said your name accidentally on purpose during “Ome Robert,” yelled “SCHAT I MISS YOU I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU SOON!!!!!!!” knowing you’d see it on Twitter or somewhere and running off stage and bumping into you almost knocking you over. That expression appears now when you turn back and catch him so needy that even the wind keeps him going while he waits for you.

With both hands, Joost covers his face and laughs—another familiar expression, this time one of yours—as you straddle him, and wait for him to come to you fully. You let him take the seconds he needs to bear with how much of a display being with each other is, laid bare completely to one another. Every confirmation you get that he feels it too feels like a blessing, somehow.

Settling higher up on his thighs, you’re forced to pause—“Wait, wait, schat,” Joost pants out, and you do, fingertips on his stomach as he wraps his big hand around both of your shafts. “I want to try something.”

“What do you wanna try, baby?” you ask softly, brushing his bangs back and looking down at his leaking cock. He still dwarfs you by an inch, and he’s thicker, but watching it happen… the slide of his foreskin against the soft length of your strap, the weeping head of it providing more than enough lubrication for his stroking hand and his bucking hips into his tight fist.

If you weren’t in awe and watching him and his closed eyes, his beautiful eyelashes spread out across his pink dusted cheeks, you'd tell him to stop, save his energy for later. For now, you watch and listen and wait for those wondrous and higher pitched moans of his, the composure he had all thrown to the wall and in his own hands now.

“Ik wil het binnen,” Joost moans. “Laat me niet wachten,” he says, still stroking himself, eyebrows furrowed and eyes half-lidded with want, biting down on his lower lip—his eyes roll back in his head in pleasure when you cup his cheek, when you touch him of your own volition again.

“Who’s the one making you wait, hm?” you ask softly. “You or me?”

“Me,” he replies, so good for you. You smile as you move back a little, coming free from his grip and coming to find the discarded lube bottle on the bed. Uncapping it, you squeeze out more on your palm, hoping it’ll warm more with a thinner layer.

“Can you…I wanna feel…” you tilt your head at him, waiting for the rest. “Can you add more lube, maybe? I want…I want to feel wet, I don't know.” He can’t even look you in the eye when he confesses it to you, and you don’t want to push him too far—he treats you gentle when you’re like this, you’ll treat him the same.

“Alright, baby, we can do that,” you purr, squirting more lube on your hand, on the shaft of your strap itself. You spread it around, stroking it; he gives himself a few lazy jerks as you tease the wet tip of your strap against his hole. “That wet enough for you?”

“Mhm,” Joost nods, sighing out when you push your hips a little further, watching as the head pops in with how open he is already. He smiles at you, entrancing and gorgeous, eyes half-lidded, lips curled in a small smirk and bitten pink. He looks down when you inch a little more, mouth dropped open slightly with his mewls. You both watch as it enters him, slowly, stretching around you.

In the heat of the moment, you almost let out a moan yourself like you can feel the sensation through the strap—maybe you can. Joost makes you feel so strongly all the time, it wouldn’t be a surprise to you.

“I love you,” Joost breathes, strong thighs loosely wrapped around your hips as he beckons you over to him for a kiss, his arms around you as you lick into his mouth, fuck into him. “Fuuuuckkk, Daddy, you’re so deep,” he moans exaggeratedly, biting his lip and winking at you when he pulls back, and you laugh, “Shut the fuck up,” as he cackles.

You straighten back up so you can have an easier time moving your hips, Joost already shuddering with the heightened sensitivity he surely has. The rhythm is awkward, barely there at all; you’re still learning how to thrust and wondering how he does it so well—to make up for it, you wrap your hand around his cock and stroke him faster than your slow and shallow thrusts inside.

Joost sighs, “You’re holding back—why? Even if you thrust like Cbat, I would love it, come on, please.”

Rolling your eyes—both at being called out and how needy he is—you start, “Do you realize, Joost—“ you let go of his cock, and he shoots you a look, “How much I love you? I don’t think you do. I'm not holding back.”

“You’re holding back,” he says flatly, and you roll your eyes again. Such a brat. “I can tell, I know you. I know how much you love me,” you pull your hips back, pulling out almost completely and the sensation makes him waver, you know it, “And I know you are holding back. Simple as that.”

You pull back, slow, and then drive your hips forward harshly, bottoming out inside and dragging against his spot in the process, forcing a choked out moan from him.

Joost has his head thrown back on the pillow as you start your thrusts, focusing hard on a rhythm that’ll have him go crazy; it seems like it won’t take much, a series of “ah ah ah” falling out of his mouth with every movement.

For a few moments, it’s just that—your thrusts, his heavy breaths, the sound of lube and skin and your thighs meeting his ass, the leather and the soft plush of his legs against each other.

Joost is gorgeous and you’ll admire this for the rest of time—just the beautiful sight of him, flushed, one hand wrapped around the wireframe of your shared bed, the other jerking his drooling cock as you fuck him open.

The breeze rustles your curtains, your ceiling fan going as fast as if possibly can, rickety alongside the squeak of your mattress and the panting from Joost’s pretty mouth—you’ve never felt warmer, more turned on in your life thrusting into him as he whimpers out your name, holding onto your forearms as you seat and unseat yourself from inside him.

“Fuck, schat,” he whines, the hollow slaps of skin against skin the background noise to your perfect summer night. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks down at himself, watches what's happening to him, how you have him in your palm.

“My pretty boy,” you coo, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, though you can’t quite move the ones stuck with sweat on his forehead. “You’re being so good for me, schat, I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I can believe it,” he smiles weakly as you smooth your hand over his chest, pinch his nipple.

You rock into him, over and over, sweat forming on your skin, the slide inside easy, leisurely. On his back, legs spread, your fingers running over his tattoo of Belgium and LINK IN BIO and the maid—your mattress squeaks with your movements, and Joost only gets louder with every movement, moaning out “Yes, yes, yes,” “I love you, please give it to me,” “Ik wil het, ik wil het alemaal,” nodding, rambling with how drunk he is off your strap.

“Naughty mouth, Joost,” you remark, snickering at how talkative he gets in this state.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes closed as he takes it so well.

“Nothing to be sorry for, my baby,” you say as you push down on his thigh, opening him up further so you can get deeper, Joost taking you to the base, his cock twitching wildly with pleasure in his hand as he strokes himself, weeping milky white precum as he gets closer and closer to his climax.

Lucky, lucky, lucky. You are lucky to have him, lucky to see him like this. A comet in the sky, once in a hundred lifetimes, his spilled Bacardi cola down your dress and the rest of your life as its wonderful puddle on a sticky club floor. Your purse with the faint brown edges of the stain and its fraying hems from continued use hangs on the coat rack downstairs.

How lucky to have met each other. All those nights made worth it by this and his smile and his art and him.

You fear looking too sappy, but either way—he’s too distracted by the way you’re fucking him to care.

“Schat, I’m gonna cum,” Joost moans, and you nod, keeping the pace of your hips steady, angling so it’ll hit his prostate just right. Again and again until he’s a whining mess, not even saying anything comprehensible, groaning and watching you with his mouth dropped open in pleasure, holding his legs open for you like a good boy. “Ik vind het geweldig, ik hou van je,” he breathes, his breath hitching as he jerks himself off.

Joost is so gorgeous overwhelmed, pink cheeks as you run your hand over his soft stomach, his chest, his arm until you reach his hand which he intertwines his fingers with yours. You never get to see him in this state much—losing himself getting off. Normally, you’re the one in this position, being caressed, talked through, taken care of. You decide in an instant that you’d like to see this more often than not.

A few more strokes of yours and Joost’s, and he cums, loudly, shooting all over his stomach and chest. “Stop touching yourself,” you say softly, and he whines in protest but takes his hand off, the last few drops of white dribbling out of his cock as you continue fucking him through his climax, forcing his moans out of his mouth, face contorted with the overstimulation you're giving him.

“Give it to me, right?” you ask as you keep thrusting, Joost’s whines low when you adjust your position so you’re half-lying on him, grinding into him as you hover over his face. “You want it all, you said?” He nods, and you kiss him deeply as you rut into him, milking him for everything he’s got. His hands roam your back, your ass, and you smile into it, licking into his mouth; you’re interrupted by him sobbing out your name and you look down, his cock spurting clear fluid pathetically with your final sloppy thrusts.

You’re breathing heavy and you don’t even realize until Joost brings your lips to his and you have to take a few to catch your breath into his mouth, stilled inside of him, lying on top and your stomachs sticky with his cum. Your thighs are wet with your arousal; he’s sure to take care of that later, but for now, you pull back and gaze at him, stunning in this afterglow, blonde hair sweaty, chest rising and falling at the same rate as yours.

His eyes are closed, blissed out and smiling—”It’s hard, isn’t it? So tiring.”

You laugh and nod, “So tiring, but worth it.”

Getting up in the morning will be so difficult, especially when you know Joost will be right here next to you, sleeping and peaceful. You’re still inside, and frankly, you never want to leave.

“Bedankt voor alles, mijn liefste,” he whispers, and you kiss over his eyes, his cheeks when he does.

“Ik hou van je, Joost.”

i so appreciate everyone's patience with this fic as well :''') i hope you enjoyed!! special shoutout to @catholicfacade because u motivated me to keep writing this fic LOLOL <3 thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) askbox anon on hereeee - juno

#joost klein smut #joost klein x reader #joost smut #joost x reader #joost x you #joost #joost fanfiction #joost klein fanfiction #joost fanfic #normal au #juno's fics #juno's writing #juno's smut

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kumkaniudaku · 12 hours ago

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Me and Your Mama

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn more about their love through life changing news on New Year’s Eve.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4,436

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy

Recommended Reading: Spoiled, Caught

Author's Note: We're at the end of Ficmas! Thanks for all the requests sprinkled in the middle. This has been a fun little ride and hope you feel fulfilled at the end of this one. Stay safe this New Year's Eve. See you in 2025.

Several mornings passed between Christmas, New Year's Eve, and their five-hour drive up north with no attempt to confirm Patrice's suspicion. She'd purposely avoided all conversation about it, preferring to push the thought to the back of her mind until she and Terry could no longer tiptoe around the growing elephant in the room.

Moments after luggage was rolled into their downtown D.C. hotel room, the pair braced themselves for punishing winds and bitter cold in search of the nearest convenience store to pick up comfort snacks and three different pregnancy tests. Terry did the honors of selecting what he thought were the best options based on his research, while Patrice forced herself to take an interest in potato chips and snack cakes a few aisles over.

She couldn't bring herself to engage. Talking about it, whatever it was, would make the dreams more real. And if what she dreamed wasn't true, she didn't know how she could pretend that all was well while her heart chipped and shattered inside her chest. So, she stayed away and let Terry put on his brave face for the both of them.

In the bright convenience store nearly empty as people prepared for a night out to celebrate the incoming new year, they felt like children caught doing something wrong instead of an adult couple on the precipice of discovering what the rest of their lives could look like.

Terry mumbled through passive small talk with the smiling cashier, staying just vague enough in his answers to avoid the glaring topic of the day before ushering Patrice out of the automated sliding doors and back toward their home for the next few nights.

Once they returned, neither of them spoke. Patrice slowly unpacked plastic bags filled with items, leaving the slender white boxes for last.

She drug a fingernail across the box on top, then looked at Terry, who couldn't take his eyes off her. "I think I'm gonna pee by myself if that's okay."

"That's cool," he answered, offering support with a weak smile. "I'll be out here if you need me."

Most of Patrice's time in the bathroom was spent staring at her reflection in the mirror. She slowly lifted the hem of her thick, cashmere sweater to examine her stomach, twisting side to side for the best angle. Nothing of note. The small bump that did exist was no different than any other day. At least, that's what she told herself as she ran her fingers along the slight curve.

Unfolded instructions littered the bathroom counter, each saying a variation of the same thing: Pee, wait, have a minor panic attack, then check the results. Or something like that. Patrice's eyes were starting to cross from information overload.

On the other side of the door, Terry stared out of the large bedroom window at nothing in particular as thoughts quickly ran in and out of his brain. He'd never considered being anybody's dad unless Patrice was on the other side of the fantasy. Maybe once or twice when other partners brought it up, but nothing concrete. Nothing this real, nothing that felt this right.

Sure, it was quick. And sure, it was probably not a great idea to introduce a child into a relationship that was only recently recognized by the state as a legal union. Any boy, girl, or otherwise would be dropped into a marriage not much older than them and cared for by two humans still trying to understand life. But they'd be loved. They'd be showered in affection from sun up to sun down. He had no doubt about it. What greater joy than to hold a child that was half him and half the woman he loved with every fiber of his being?

But he was only one part of the equation. Ultimately, Patrice was the deciding factor. Patrice and a collection of three pregnancy tests two minutes away from unveiling their fate.

The toilet flushing made Terry blink back into reality from daydreams of diaper changes and kindergarten graduations. He caught a glimpse of himself in the window's faultless glass before turning in enough time to see Patrice poke her head out of the bathroom for his attention.

She fiddled with her fingers and rocked on her heels. "You can come in if you want."

He nodded, careful not to appear too eager or unconcerned, and moved to join her for the wait.

The soft click of the door closing sealed them into the room together. Terry silently shuffled into the room past Patrice to sit on the closed toilet lid and nervously ran his palm down the back of his head. He took a deep breath before looking over at Patrice, who'd gone back to obsessing over how her stomach looked beneath her clothes.

"Hey," he spoke in a sweet, low tenor to avoid startling her. She looked over, eyes shining from suppressed tears, and found him looking at her with round doe eyes. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. "Come here, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. To Patrice's soul, the word felt like warm chicken soup on a winter evening. She could never question how Terry felt about her. He'd been there to offer comfort through a tumultuous, frightening week. Feeling his large hands grip her waist to pull her between his legs grounded her in the right there and then. Regardless of the results, he'd still be around to kiss away the bad times and laugh with her through the good.

Patrice lightly placed her cold hands on his face while he looked up at her, waiting for anything she decided to say.

She closed her eyes and sighed. "What if it's negative?"

"Well. We'll go out and drink champagne all night like we planned. I hate the taste on its own but know I'll love it on your lips when we kiss at midnight. Then we move on. Maybe have a conversation that we should've had a long time ago on the drive home."

"And if it's positive?"

Terry took a deep breath, allowing the words to come out in a mind-clearing huff. "We skip the champagne and keep the kiss. But we have to celebrate either way, baby. Time's gonna pass no matter what."

For all his mixed bag of positive and negative traits, Terry's sneaky optimism was Patrice's favorite. A short, airy laugh came through Patrice's nostrils as she tossed her head back and groaned.

"You're always so sure of things and I'm sitting here about to throw up my lunch."

Terry rubbed his hands up and down the back of her legs with a smile. "I'm not sure of shit, really," he laughed. "I just know that we'll be alright in the end. This Gunny I was close with told me everything goes back to baseline. Don't sweat the bullshit in between. So, that's what I'm doing. Waiting it out."

"That doesn't scare you? The waiting?"

"Sometimes." A quick glance down convinced him to slowly lift Patrice's sweater with one hand and hold it in place while he pressed feather-soft kisses across her abdomen. Kisses for her? Kisses for who he hoped lived inside? He didn't know. But he spoke against the area to communicate with whoever would listen. "But waiting always brought me something better than what I had. How could I not trust the process when I have the result standing right in front of me?"

A rush of emotions broke the levees holding Patrice's tears back, sending a wet stream sliding down her hot cheeks. Terry wiped her face with the back of his hand in silence, the gentleness in his care working double time to soothe whatever thoughts and feelings were coming forward for her.

When the short bout of crying had ceased, and she was left with nothing but her husband, a timer ticking down to mere seconds and a looming result hanging over their heads, Patrice ran her thumb along Terry's cheek and smiled down at him.

"I love you more than I ever thought I could, but we gotta slow down, Terrence. I'm worn out."

Terry answered her joke with a low chuckle that bounced his shoulders and spread his smile wide. "I'm with you, baby. That should be our New Year's resolution."

"Either that or finally getting around to that budget we've been talking about. Might have to add a baby fund line item."

"We got it. Don't worry." Terry assured before kissing the inside of her wrist. "Whatever happens, we're okay. Gimme a kiss."

Sweet affection in the face of potentially life-altering change offered some sense of normalcy as they allowed the world to turn into abstract concepts with shared, tender smooches.

They'd almost forgotten what brought them into the bathroom until the harsh trill of Patrice's phone timer ripped through space and time, again placing them smack dab in the middle of the present.

When Terry reached to grab one of the tests after silencing the noise, Patrice jolted forward to grab his wrist. "Okay, wait!" she panted. "I-I'll grab one, and you'll grab one. Then we'll do the third one together. Does that make sense?"

"Alright. Which one do you want?"

"I don't fuckin' know! Choose for me! I can't do this, TJ!"

Terry wore a crooked smile as he calmly plucked two tests from their containers and placed the digital option into Patrice's palm face down. He took the analog test and covered the result with his thumb before swallowing the lump in his throat.

A deep breath rushed through parted lips. "Turn it over on three. One, two…"

Three never came for Patrice. Even after Terry had uttered the number and turned his test over slowly, Patrice kept her eyes closed, waiting for him to spill the beans. She couldn't bring herself to verify on her own accord. He'd have to be her eyes and ears.

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds, making the wait agonizing until Terry broke the seal.

"Treecey," he called out. "Please look with me. I need you to see."

A deep breath helped her blink her way back into clear eyesight. She didn't look at Terry or try to peek at the pink test in his hand. Instead, she flipped her test over with trembling fingers and stared at the small digital screen displaying a single word.

"Oh –" was all she managed to choke out before looking up at Terry's beaming smile and tear-soaked face. "Does yours say –?"

"Two lines, baby. Two!"

Disbelief gave way to unadulterated shock. "Oh. My. God. Look at the other one!"

"You have to do it with me!"

Another countdown as they held on to the final test together preceded an excited flip and harmonizing reactions that could only be described as happy sobs.

Patrice rocked Terry in a tight embrace while he clung to her, crying into her sweater's soft fabric more than he'd cried in years. An avalanche of emotions wrapped in disbelief that he'd been immeasurably blessed after his year started with so much strife. His losses came with gains ten times above what he could ask or think.

His wife brushed tears from her already stained face before kissing the crown of his head and repeating, "You're gonna be a daddy, Pooh. You're gonna be a daddy!"

Emotions distorted his deep voice. "Swear?"

"Swear, baby. You're gonna be a daddy."

He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, not caring who he disturbed. Then, he'd run down the hallways, through the lobby's doors, out into the cold D.C. air, and holler to anyone who would listen that his wife, the girl he fell in love with before he could legally drink, was carrying a child that might look just like him someday.

But he couldn't get past sharing the excitement seemingly gushing out of his pores with the only other person who could understand his joy. He chose to lift Patrice up in the air as he stood tall, spinning her in a slow circle before gingerly placing her back on her feet and pressing his forehead against hers.

"What the fuck," he laughed as he tickled her sides, causing her to giggle back. "I'm having a baby. With my baby!"

"I guess I couldn't beat teen pregnancy. My parents are going to be so disappointed in me."

"Stop it." The thought of his parents sitting in their living room without a clue that their firstborn was miles away receiving such big news flipped on a light bulb in Terry's head. "Our parents! Should we call? We should call them now. Do you wanna do a group FaceTime or like a conference call or what?"

Patrice watched Terry fumble around his pockets for his phone until he came up empty-handed and reached for hers. She pushed the device further away and shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Can we just…enjoy the news by ourselves tonight. I want it to be our secret a little longer. Is that okay?"

"Of course, Piggy. Whatever you want. I'm sorry, I just - shit. This is insane. You have a baby in there. Should we tell them we're a party of three tonight at dinner?"

"No," Patrice laughed, finding his unbridled excitement adorable. "If they cancel this reservation because you playin', me and you might have a problem, Daddy."

Terry bit his lip and lowered his head to kiss at her neck. "Damn, I love hearing you say that. Say it again."

By the time they were approaching a swanky steakhouse on Patrice's long list of places to visit, she'd called him Daddy so much in jest that she almost told the hostess that that was the name on their reservation.

Pockets of quiet conversation held over candlelight and crisp white tablecloths greeted them as they were led through the dimly lit restaurant to the table for the evening. Terry moved to pull out a chair for Patrice, but she stopped him with a kind smile.

"I'm gonna run to the restroom. Mommy bladder is starting early. Order something cute for me?"

Her joke made Terry smile like a little boy until she was out of his sight and safely inside the ladies' room.

Romantic jazz music oozing out of speakers concealed inside the walls like smooth red wine gave Patrice time to replay the day in her head, unable to contain the elation on her face as she washed her hands at the sink.

Another woman, tall like a model and beautifully sepia-toned, applied lipstick in the mirror and noticed how she tried but failed to stop grinning. She smiled at Patrice before speaking. "You're glowing," she complimented. "I need whatever you've got going on tonight."

Patrice chewed the inside of her cheek after a bashful thank you. She wanted to keep the words in and pleaded with herself to walk out of the restroom and return to Terry without uttering another word.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted, unable to fight the urge. "My husband and I – he's the tall one out there waiting on me – we just found out that I'm pregnant. We were best friends over a decade ago, and I still can't believe we're married. Now, there's a baby inside me with half his DNA. I'm having a baby with Terry Richmond. Oh my God." The realization of her social blunder hit her like an 18-wheeler. "And I just told a stranger all my business. I am so sorry!"

"No, no! That's incredible, girl! Can I hug you?"

Patrice didn't know why she obliged, but she did, allowing herself to sink into this woman's arms like she was an old friend and not someone whose name she didn't know. The woman rubbed her back and squeezed tight before pulling away.

"Congratulations, sis. Happy Holidays."

While Patrice received well wishes on the other side of the establishment, Terry gave his full attention to the cocktail menu as a server attempted to provide recommendations.

"That one is a crowd favorite," the young man pointed out. "Is she a rum lover? It comes with top shelf Appleton Estate if so."

Terry chuckled to himself. "She is, but she can't have any right now. We just found out she's pregnant before we got here." Further explanation caught in his throat. He didn't mean to offer up their secret. Excited Terry had done the talking, not calm and reserved Terry.

He watched with wide eyes and an internal scolding rattling around the container of his mind as the server smiled and jotted a note on his pad. "First, congratulations! I'll note that to the staff and see if we can't do something special for you and your beautiful date. Second, no worries at all. We can turn that one into a mocktail and not lose too many of the flavor notes."

"Thanks," Terry breathed out. "Hey, can you make sure you don't tell her I said that? It was supposed to be a secret."

"Our lips are sealed, Mr. Richmond. Consider it a little something extra to celebrate the new year."

Terry made a mental note to leave a handsome tip behind as Patrice reappeared from her time away. Her smile hypnotized him until she was close enough to remind him about her chair. He scrambled to his feet to take care of his duty, nervously pushing her to the table as if this were their first date.

When he was back in his seat, he watched her survey the room and menu, taking in each of her features.

High cheekbones passed down from a long line of majestic women. Soft, mahogany skin that mesmerized him in golden hour light every evening. Dark, expressive eyes that told the story of her inner thoughts, even when she tried to hide. Full lips he couldn't resist. The total package. Everything he hoped for was wrapped in one person.

Terry sat across from her, smitten. His grin showcased all of his teeth and then some while she scanned the appetizers for something to satiate her peckishness.

Prolonged silence made Patrice glance up and then double-take when she noticed Terry's one-sided staring contest. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Just trying to remember how you looked on the second most important night of our lives."

Sudden bashfulness sent heat rushing to her face. "The third," Patrice corrected with a smile. "Don't leave out New Orleans."

Terry chuckled at the memory. "Baby, the sun was barely in the sky when you decided to disturb the whole third floor."

"It was time to wake up anyway. That's what's wrong with the world now."

Jokes and discussions about the possibility of dessert before dinner dominated the conversation until their server returned with two drinks meant to loosen their lips and hips for the evening. A subtle wink between Terry and the server communicated all he needed to know without tipping off Patrice as she excitedly watched beautifully decorated glasses hit the table.

"To our first night out as Mom and Dad," Terry toasted, prompting Patrice to raise her glass.

Mom and Dad—parents to be—two bodies forming one in a few months—a culmination of thousands of experiences leading them to a fate written before they were born. The concept sounded so foreign yet so familiar.

Patrice dabbed at misty eyes, sniffling out a breathy, "To Mommy and Daddy."

Glasses softly clinked before she joined Terry in a long sip and starry-eyed gazes across the table to officially kick off a night of celebration.

Or so they'd hoped. Full bellies caught up with exhausted minds and bodies once silver forks hit clean porcelain plates well before their planned 10 p.m. exit. They tried to negotiate the next move with each other: a little walk for digestion, maybe a minute to listen to street performers play go-go renditions of oldies their parents would enjoy, perhaps another dessert to keep the mood high.

All of their suggestions paled in comparison to hearing the mechanical whir of the hotel's lock precede the door swinging open to a warm room. There were no crowds trying to cram their bodies onto a rooftop brimming with eager folks anticipating good fortune as the clock flipped forward on a new year. There was only each other and the comfort of familiarity.

Bottles of Sprite from the downstairs market acted like expensive bottles of bubbly poured into scavenged plastic cups next to a collection of fatty snacks, and cell phones switched to silent mode to avoid distractions.

Terry and Patrice two-stepped hand in hand to jams playing from the television broadcast, dressed down in comfortable clothes and sporting ever-growing smiles.

Under warm lamplight, Terry held Patrice's hand over her head to help her spin like a wind-up ballerina before pulling her close. "What were you doing last year around this time?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," she groaned, a sour look making her frown momentarily. "I was in a bathroom stall breaking up with my ex. Then Phee got us so drunk that we ended up blacked out before the countdown. I still don't know how we got back to her house or why we were cuddled up in her bed like that."

"Sounds like the kind of chaos you three get into when you're unsupervised."

"Whatever." Patrice laughed before making her fingers dance across Terry's broad shoulders. "What about you? What were you doing?"

Terry let a wry smile creep across his face. "Alone and sleeping. I didn't think there was much to look forward to, and I had to work in the morning anyway. Don't even think I turned the TV on."

The thought of Terry sleeping in on the night handpicked for blind optimism drew a sympathetic look from Patrice. "We both had a rough go at it, huh?"

"I don't know, mine was pretty chill. You were the one missing chunks of time." Patrice took faux offense at his joke, slapping across his chest before they let off laughs that slowly dissipated into a comfortable silence.

Terry rested his head atop Patrice's, his mind taking a winding road back to the beginning while she hummed a made-up tune to herself.

"Fifth-period Forensics with Mr. Turner. Junior year. You were wearing little strawberries crocheted on a pink sweater and your hair in a high ponytail. Kind of like tonight."

Patrice looked up and tilted her head in confusion. "What?"

"That's the moment I fell in love with you. I'd always liked you, but that's the moment I realized that I loved you," he clarified. "I spent so much time denying it, tiptoeing around how I felt and trying to find you in other women long after we were done, but I kept coming back to you acing that pop quiz in a pink strawberry sweater."

Patrice chuckled and smiled, recalling the time when her feelings blossomed beyond butterflies in her tummy at the mention of his name into a full-bodied, ever-present yearning for his heart.

Terry waited expectantly, longing to know if there was a moment for Patrice – if her love had a spark that rocked her world the way she did so long ago for him.

Flashes of bright light and distant cheering cut in just as Patrice seemed ready to confess, stealing her attention for a second too long.

She gasped like a child on Christmas morning. "Look, baby! We can see the fireworks from here." Patrice tugged Terry along, all two hundred plus pounds of him yielding to her will slowly but surely.

He had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Bright flashes of light turning into whimsical bursts kept him captivated as the clock ticked down the final minutes of the year. He slowly embraced her from behind, needing to feel her warmth combined with his for comfort. Patrice watched in content silence, smiling to herself while Terry watched the show unfold from the reflection in her glasses.

Two minutes left. Two minutes to cap off a whirlwind 365 days and march triumphantly into a new slate. Two minutes to release long-forgotten truths buried in the recesses of Patrice's mind. She leaned back against Terry and craned her neck to admire him from her vantage point.

A jawline fit for a man meant to be showcased to the world. Piercing eyes that shifted and changed with his emotions. Skin marked with blemishes telling countless stories – some he'd share and others that would follow him to the other side. Full pink lips that talked her through good, bad, and intimate times. All the features that might grace a child not yet named and growing in her womb.

"Senior prom night. You told me you loved me, and I said it back because I always said it back. But, that time, it felt different. It wasn't like sayin' it to my parents or my friends or the stray cat Mama let us feed. A different part of my heart meant it. That was the first moment."

Terry looked down at her, smirking and silently encouraging her to continue. She turned in his arms and then took hold of his ears to rub gentle circles against them.

One minute left. Seconds dwindling. She continued. "The second time was today. And I hope there's a third, a fourth, and one hundred more to come. I never want to stop falling in love with you, TJ."

Terry squeezed her a little tighter as if she might vaporize and blow away if he didn't hold on for dear life. "Yeah, me too," He whispered, drawing closer to her lips. "Never."

Faint voices shouting a countdown in unison floated through empty streets and up to the 10th floor to surround a couple preparing to embark on a new journey.

“Ten…nine…eight…seven…”

An excited buzzing, nearly perceptible by touch, sparked across the city. Heartfelt 'I love you's' shared as one breath passed between Terry and Patrice just before they connected lips and tongues.

“Six…five…four…”

Colors painted their bodies from the window, bathing them in light one last time from January to December. A final salute from the Most High.

"Three…two…one! Happy New Year!"

Endless possibilities coated in an extra dose of magic felt real for the first time in forever. A lover's embrace carried hope and a promise. They'd start anew in lockstep the way the stars intended, with an extra set of fingers and toes to usher through life at some point in the future.

But, for a moment, Terry and Patrice stood suspended in time, drunk off the taste of each other, ushering in the new year the only way they knew how.

Together.

———————————

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TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #ficmas

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thedivinetarot · 1 day ago

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Do I make you feel like Christmas time? Put me in a party dress one time

What is coming your way? (General)

☆ How to chose your pile?

Read this post my dears.

Thank you🤍

☆ Note:

This reading only available until the end of January 2025. After that I do not recommend taking those predictions.

Merry Christmas Dears and happy new year. May all your wishes come true🎄🎊☃️🎆.

Pile 1 - Red car

Your current energy:

Hello pile one🤍 merry Christmas for my beautiful followers. Anyways, let's get into your reading. I can sense 3 energies in this pile so I will write them here and take what resonates okay? Let's start with the first one. I see something green in my peripheral vision and my third eye started tingling. I see that you might be someone who is emotionally attached to someone. I see that it can be for better or worse and I kept typing W so? Yeah anyways. I see that this emotional attachment could be tied to someone in your family. I see a very unhealthy dynamic here, you might be going to spend the holidays with them but instead of having fun they just re-live the old wounds and make you very unhappy. Pile 1 I see that you might be someone who is married or in a long term relationship and your spouse is the only one you feel that can protect you from the problems of your family. I see also that other people here are quite self-sufficient emotional or financially. I see a lot of I'm independent people whether you carry a masculine or feminine energy. For my single people you might get engaged in a traditional way? Perhaps by your family but I see you'll meet them soon. I see that this person might open doors for you. The second energy here is for my college students, I see you waiting for your marks and ending this semester with a lot of dedication too. Things seem very different than previous year. I got shivers all over my back, I feel like in this pile there's a sense of nostalgia. Something perhaps changed than the previous year. The third energy here is my workaholic people; guys take a break for God's sake your loved ones need you to be with them in the holiday, can you pls? Thank you. Also; I see that there's someone here who have done charity for Christmas I see that your spirit guys are very proud of you. Someone here will get a proposal soon, I see that if you are in a long term relationship you'll be proposed to and if you are single love is on it's way, don't give up babies 💋💋.

☆ Placements for you:

Capricorn, Taurus, virgo, Aquarius, Scorpio, Pluto, Saturn, sun dominant in your chart. 2nd, 6th, 11th, 10th, 6th, 8th house placements.

☆ what is coming your way?

So, I do think that people here might have struggled with their health alot. Someone here have a chronic illness like diabetes, hypertension and other chronic illnesses. I see that by the end of this year and the beginning of a new one; things will get better for you especially if you have been looking carefully about your current health status. I see also, that there's indulgence here. If you are someone who suffer from diabetes or hypertension be careful with what you eat (pls consult a Dr about your health this reading cannot substitute medical intervention). Anyways, I see that at the beginning of the holiday everything was balanced perhaps you have been dieting and NOW it feels like you are out of control. I see indulgence in food here. So if you are not used to to being inactive, have healthy lifestyle you might gain weight. I see that what is coming for you also is peace after a period of tiredness. I see that this pile have been fighting to get everything done and are tired because it is not going the way you wanted it to go. The cards are telling me that you should rest and give yourself some time. Nourish your body but do not over indulge. Perhaps spiritually, you are out of alignment. Maybe you abandoned your practices or stopped out of exhaustion. Give yourself sometime dear. Everything will be alright despite it not being quite obvious. I see that you guys are very uncertain right now and feeling lost, but everything will turn out to be alright. You have the tools to shape reality, you are no weak human. You are strong🤍 keep going. Also; you might hear about a proposal perhaps for you or someone you know, it is going to be super beautiful. Thank you for reading 💕.

Pile 2 - Christmas stores

Your current energy

Hello dears how are you? I hope you are doing well. I see here that there was or is a relationship that you were in or still in I'm not getting anything from the past. Something is currently going on. I see that this relationship might have made you emotionally unfulfilled and unsatisfied with that person. Also, another energy I'm picking up on is that if you are single I see someone who is young and youthful that will come into your life. I see that this person take care of their appearance A LOT and put too much thoughts into it. Well; also I have now two situations going on. If you are in a relationship then that person is cheating on you or deceiving you. I see that they are keeping things hidden. Probably with someone online? They might be following someone online and talking to them. And if you are single be careful of that new guy or person coming into your life. They might deceive you and hide things from you. Now for other, I see that if you were suffering from financial hardships this will soon end. I see an opportunity that will shake things up for you possibly coming from a woman you know. I see active search here, also I'm getting the phrase "what you are seeking, seek you back" so don't give up dears.

☆ Placements for you:

Gemini, Pisces, Sagittarius, Aries, Cancer. Pluto, moon, Mercury dominant in your chart. Your sun or moon in the 3rd, 1st, 12th, 9th, 4th house in your chart.

What is coming your way?

So, right of the bat I see that you will receive communication from a woman whom she is very close to you. This woman might be preparing something very sweet and generous. I see a gift here, she might gift you something that is very valuable. I'm not seeing that this woman is a stranger, she is from your family or friends. I see that also, this woman is going to unlock an opportunity for you regarding a job or your career. So, okay I see that this woman might really help you if you are looking for a job and if you are already employed she might support you. If you don't have any woman or female in your life then this might be you. I see you going out and looking for a job yourself, this job will be in a structured setting and it will pay you will. But also, not without difficulties. I see that you'll solve all you problems sense the key is here in the spread.

Pile 3 - Christmas Carol

Current energy:

Hello dear🤍 how are you doing? Let's get into the reading. I see that you started to take care of yourself and someone here is changing their physical appearance. Also, routine, you might have dealt with eating disorder and now you are recovering. Or you have been on a self love journey and now you are receiving the fruits of your labor. Cards here suggest that you need to reflect more about your lifestyle so if you feel the need to reflect on your long term goals do this evaluation so you can move forward with ease. Another energy I'm picking up on is someone here have an emotional attachment to someone else. This relationship feels karmic, and the lesson here is to acknowledge your wounds, heal and move on. I see that the main theme of this relationship is abandonment and manipulation. I see that this person might be manipulating you into thinking that they love you and then they abandon your need as a person. I see that this relationship is here to teach you how to be more logical and stop the unnecessary nostalgia to who that person was before with you. Evaluate that relationship with clarity and stop wasting your time, the right person won't do this to you.

☆ Placements for you:

Scorpio, Virgo, Aries, Gemini, Capricorn, Libra. For planets we have pluto, Mercury, Saturn, Jupiter. Sun or moon in the 1st, 3rd, 6th, 7th, 10th, 8th house in your chart.

☆ What is coming your way?

I see luck coming your way pile 3 and this luck will be because of a very strategic and smart woman. This woman knows a man that will help and guide you through your journey. I see that this man will play a key role in your life and may help you to see things clearly and be your anchor. I see that this person (regardless of the gender) is very optimistic and stable, generous financially too. I see that at first you might really feel tense and un-trusting of their intentions, you may think that they want sex or play with your heart but they are not like that at all. They will support you financially and help you grow in your business or open a business for you. I see also, that you might meet this person because of a problem and then they will help you navigate it. This person is very charismatic, confident and loyal. Also they are very determined. At first you might not like them at all but as you get to know them you'll realize that they are your wish fulfillment! Also, with the heirophant, queen of cups and king of cups you both might be in the same place emotionally when you meet them and above all ready to commit. Another thing I'm picking up on is that this person might indeed be your spouse if you are hoping to meet them. Take care pile 3, enjoy your holiday 💕

Pile 4 - Candy

Current energy:

Hello guys, I shuffled the cards and they were jumping like crazy and they energy is not quite right. Are you okay? I feel concerned. Someone here is being abused emotionally and the problem is you are not seeing it as an abuse which is quite strange. I see that I'm not sure why the person you are with might either be a long-term partner or someone that you don't see long-term relationship with. I see that despite the abuse you are trying to keep yourself distant emotionally. I mean yes, they are abusing you emotionally BUT no you are not attached to them in that way nor aware of that. The cards emphasis on setting boundaries. Another energy I'm picking up on is you might be hooking up with someone? And you both are attracted sexually? I see that you and this person do not want to commit which is nice on your own terms but be careful of unwanted pregnancies? Yup, I see that you might have been feeling like giving up and this hookup came and now you are on fire. This person might be boosting your confidence? And above all making you feel good. Nothing serious but still be careful, this person is quite in rush when it comes to that thing and they are non-commital.

☆Placements for you:

Leo, Taurus, Cancer, Sagittarius, Pisces, mars in gemini. Dominant planets: Neptune, mars, Sun, Saturn. Sun or moon in the 2nd, 4th, 5th, 9th, 12th house in your chart.

☆ What is coming your way?

So, love is on it's way pile 4. I see that you might meet someone in a very strategic way. That might know you beforehand but the actual meeting is planned by them. They might have their eyes on you long time until they make a move. I see that this relationship will give you a lot of luck and change you for the better also, it might be like one of those relationships that is very abundant in feelings and romance. Someone here will come and shake up your world. I see that this person or the relationship will be a source of stability and happiness in your life. This person is very sneaky and strategic I kept singing the phrase "g-g-g-g genius" so they might be someone who is considered intellectually smart and stimulating. I see that this person is very nurturing and motherly even if they are masculine or a man, they carry this feminine energy and help people. I see that also, they are emotionally mature and emotional too. They value mutual and reciprocal give and take effort. And pls don't say those people DO NOT exist BECAUSE THEY DO bahahah anyways. This person knows how to communicate directly and very straightforward. I see that in order for them to enter for your life you might be in a difficult chapter and trying to move on and cutting ties with people who have hurt you. Take care pile 4 and may all your wishes come true hohohoho🎅🏼🦌🎄.

Post date: 30th Dec- 2024 Mon

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