Ask For It

When the luxury passenger ship you were on wrecked and pirates came to scavenge it, you thought you would be left for dead, or worse.

Instead, Captain Jake Kiszka himself took you aboard his ship, rescuing you from what would've been a watery grave.

"Well, Darling, what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't rescue a pretty thing like you?"

The way Jake’s and Josh’s bellies and hips spill ever so slightly over their tour outfits.

Reblog if you agree.

Choker

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual contact, language, dom/sub, collaring, exhibitionism (if you squint), dirty talk, masturbation, oral sex, references to Almost Famous (go watch that masterpiece), probably some other things I forgot.

Special thanks to @jake-kiszkas-smirk for supplying me with this delicious pic of our lord and savior

A tiny Grecian God, that’s how you might describe him were you asked to right now.

“Tiny” might ruffle another’s feathers; might make him feel less than, and emasculated…but Josh? That beautiful man is a horse of a different color.

He embraces who he is without thought. It has never occurred to him that his stature might have any bearing on who he is, or how he’s perceived…and he’s absolutely right. It doesn’t.

Except, that’s a bit of a white lie, isn’t it? Something about that miniature frame of his, still backed by such solidity and confidence…

It really does it for you.

The man is a powerhouse. A fiery stick of dynamite - small and unassuming…yet, packing a wild, lasting punch.

At this moment, he is glittering in gold, messily fixing himself a cocktail, rhinestones only half-complete across his flawless face.

He looks wild, curls twisting this way and that insanely atop his perfect head. Eyes shining and flashing with nerves and anticipation. Soft cock displayed like rock and roll art beneath his second skin of a jumpsuit.

“Hello, Penny.” He teases when he catches sight of you in the mirror, staring at his reflection.

It’s an inside joke that you can’t remember the start of any longer, it’s been so long running. In moments backstage like this, you’re his Penny Lane. A nod to an iconic, fictional, groupie in a movie too mainstream for him to readily admit to loving.

“Hello, tiny dancer.” You smile at him through the mirror and move forward as he turns to properly greet you. “Your face is lopsided.”

Your thumb traces over the shimmering studs adorning only one of his cheeks.

“Yeah?” His arms wrap around your waist. “Well, your face is heart-stopping, star fucker.”

A laugh, much too loud for the intimate moment, bubbles out of you as he watches on, loving you just a little more than he did ten seconds ago. Though, he would have thought that impossible.

“Star fucker?”

“That’s what you came for, isn’t it?” He pulls you in, palm firmly splayed across your lower back until your hips are pressed together. “Sneaky girl charmed her way backstage to procure a moment alone with the front man? Wanna run home and tell all your friends about Josh Kiszka’s big dick?”

“Are you drunk already?” You giggle, rolling your eyes at his nonsense.

“Maybe so, Penny…” he grins, grinding a little harder against you. “Maybe so. A dash of inebriation makes for a hell of a show. And here I stand, the world but a stage.”

There’s that hint of his transatlantic accent that holds such a dear place in your heart. On occasion, he sounds born of Hollywood’s golden era. As if he might suddenly grab his fedora and leave you in a cloud of Lucky Strike smoke as you weep prettily in a gauzy dressing gown.

Or perhaps, it’s the other way around, and it’s he that is the gentle damsel in love, leaning back seductively in your embrace. His parted lips and throat exposed, waiting for your kiss in a black and white room flickering across the silver screen.

Katharine Hepburn with a tambourine.

“Well, you just remember who you belong to when you’re out there counting the stars in their eyes.” you push him away fondly and grab territorially at his chest. “Your tits look phenomenal in this suit, by the way.”

His eyelashes bat so subtly you doubt he’s even aware of the butterflies he’s stirred to life in your stomach. “I love it when you objectify me.”

Slipping your hand beneath the silken fabric, you tease over his nipples, two light pinches curling into the tiny pebbles of flesh. “Your throat, too.” a warm kiss lingers, in order to bask in the gentle thump of his pulse for a moment. “If I had a cock, all pretty and hard, you know what I’d do with it?”

A huffing breath rolls out of him, famished and needful, already.

He is weak for these rare occasions with you. These moments when you fall into the waters of your constant, unbridled desire and sink fully to the filthy depths. “Tell me.”

“I’d slide it right here.” You graze your hand up between his perfectly defined pectoral muscles. “I’d make you press them together for me. I’d fuck them…and then I’d cum right here. “ You tap at his throat and a soft, hollow sound emanates from his Adam’s apple. “I’d paint your blushing skin just like you do mine.”

“Fuck…” the whimper that tumbles out of him is deliciously, sinfully, hauntingly, submissive. “C’mon, pen…” he’s trying to twist you around now, longing to bend you over the table. “We don’t have long.”

“Did you even notice it?” You question, lending a coy and mysterious tone to your pondering.

“Notice what, love?” He hums, charting maps with his lips and tongue wherever his mouth happens to land. Pulling at your cut up Greta shirt until it’s bunched up carelessly, showcasing the rounded tops of your breasts, and the simple black satin that cradles them.

“That.” Your explanation is colored with nonchalance as you point over his shoulder.

He turns, takes note of the discrete package, and then reaches out for it with one hand still firmly wrapped around the small of your waist.

“Penny lane came bearing gifts?” He teases with a wink. “Trying to buy your way into a comfy seat on my cock, are we?”

“Don’t be stupid,” you smirk, playing up the smug flare that is coursing through you, head to toe. “That seat already has my name written all over it. Now, open your gift.”

At last, he releases you in order to play into your little power trip. “What could it be?” He’s taking his time, carefully easing open the flimsy, plastic tablecloth from catering that serves as wrapping paper. You, having made do in a pinch.

Refusing to entertain his questioning, you simply lean back and quietly soak in his movements, impatient for the confusion you'll surely find when he sees the gift for what it is.

True to fantasy, his eyes light up like someone has screwed bulbs into his temples, gears turning as he attempts to work it out in his head. Fingers traveling reverently over the dainty, golden chain and the tiny key that dangles delicately from it.

It is undeniably lovely. Elegant. Unique. Timeless. And he is all of these things - still, this particular piece is decidedly not Josh. Though, he is far too kind to let on.

“It’s beautiful.” He smiles, shaking off the fact that it seems an odd present. You’ve never given him jewelry before, he thinks, but he’ll treasure it all the same. “Why do I get the feeling you’ll steal this and wear it more often than I do?”

You nod, rolling the secret around on your tongue like a lemon drop.

Slipping your index finger through the chain, you lift it out of the box. He watches it wink and catch the light..oblivious that there are more surprises to be had.

“You’re right. I will wear it more.” You agree. “Because it’s mine.”

His shoulders slump almost imperceptibly. He’s such a sucker for a little gift; almost childlike with his affinity for anything wrapped up pretty and presented with a bit of pomp and circumstance.

“Oh, don’t look so somber, tiny dancer.” You smile gently, Running the tip of your finger down the perfect slope of his nose. “I’d never leave you out. Go have a little look in my bag.”

He follows your line of sight, anticipation alive in his eyes once again - then sidles over to the couch, excitement evident in his bare-footed step.

Practically sizzling with suspense, you’re laser-focused on his reaction as he pulls your bag open and stares down into the abyss that is your catch all.

A breath hitches in his throat deliciously when the cards fan into place.

“Is this a collar?” He asks quietly, the rumble of his lowest register causing a chill, like icy fingers, at the nape of your neck.

A slow, sly grin graces your lips and serves as his answer.

He displays it, as if you’ve never seen it before, as if you weren’t the one to carefully select it. It isn’t blatant. In fact, it could pass for an intricate necklace…a choker. Which is exactly why you were drawn to it.

“Yeah?” His eyes, heavy and swimming with palpable want, rise to meet your gaze. “You want to be all mine, pen? You want me to slip this around your neck and make you my pretty little pet?”

“No, no…” you pluck the collar out of his grasp and sweep your touch over the cool, shining gold. It exactly matches the gold that will shimmer flamboyantly against his jumpsuit and dazzle the crowd tonight as he works the stage, and their hearts. “This is for you, sweetheart. You’re going to be my pet tonight.”

“And if I say no?” He counters, just to stir the pot a smidge. He can’t help himself.

“Well,” you offer a tiny shrug. “If you really don’t want to, you can always use your safe word and this goes no further. However, if you want to say no just to earn a reaction, I’ll save you the trouble…”

You wait a beat, and he nods, biting the inside of his lip in an attempt to mask his enthusiasm.

Your thumb dips into the warm, wet heaven of his mouth. “If you say no just to misbehave, I’ll have no misgivings about putting you over my knee.”

He sucks, tongue swirling over the ridges of your fingerprint as the smallest whimper makes itself known in the back of his throat.

“Oh, did you like that?” You tease with a questioning tilt of your head. “You want mama to make it hurt a little until you’re my very good boy again?”

He pulls back with a muted pop, reaching to pull you into his arms. “Fuck, baby…c’mon, just a quick one before the show. I’m so fucking hard.”

You snap your fingers, a swift crack of a pop in his face to catch his attention and remind him of who is in the driver’s seat. “Settle down.” You soothe, while hanging on to an edge in your tone. “I think you need to find your center and take a deep breath.”

His fingers wander up your thigh with a suggestive tilt of his head, “I think I need to find your center and…”

You push him away with unwavering, yet loving force. “I said settle down…and you need to do something about this,” your fingers tap a light rhythm over his achingly hard cock through his jumpsuit and a soft, breathless moan calls back to you, relishing the attention of your touch where he wants it most.

“You do something about that, Penny.” He’s being a world class brat, but carrying out his insubordination via a delectably gravely tone, so you decide to allow it. “C’mon, you know just what I need, baby…just how I like it. Make me feel good. Don’t make me go out there hard and hurting.”

“You know,” you sigh, shaking your head in mild annoyance. “You’re being very bossy, but sort of whiny at the same time. I’m not sure what to do with you.”

He pulls you close, clinging to you with warm, electric, lust “You know exactly what to do with me.”

“You’re right.” You nod, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. Releasing him, you aim a finger at the vanity chair. “You just be a good boy and sit. I’ll finish your face before we put it on.”

He slinks down into the seat begrudgingly, casting a rueful stare up at you. “Don’t leave me like this.”

You grab the tiny cup of rhinestones, “Hush.”

“Wait,” it’s as though it has suddenly dawned on him. “Before we put what on?”

“Your collar.” You offer offhandedly, inspecting the placement of his glittering jewels in order to line them up correctly.

“On stage?” He pulls back, tugging his chin out of your tender grasp. “You can’t be serious.”

Your touch goes right back to holding him in place, tilting him upward until you can stare down into his chocolate eyes. “I’m very serious. I won’t attach the lead. And you know your safe word, so I suspect this little song and dance is just that - a song and dance. You want this just as much as I do. Likely more. You’re fighting me just to fight me. Stop.”

A slow nod and lazy lull of his eyelids only stand to confirm what you already knew. “There’s mama’s angel. Now you just breathe and be still, the quiet before the storm is good for you.”

“Are you referring to the show or yourself?” He smiles softly, easing back into the chair to allow your work.

“Me, tiny dancer.” You whisper, face close enough to nudge the tip of his nose with your own. “I am always the storm.”

~

For the first half of the show, you watch from the wings. Positively intoxicated by him, as always.

He becomes someone else entirely when he marches his way out into the lights. Feeds off the adrenaline powering through his veins like the sweetest drug. Steals the energy the fans readily give, and uses it to further sink his teeth into their hearts. He takes a little piece of them and leaves them with a chip of himself in return. They, forever his…and he, forever theirs.

Tonight, you’re there, too. Claiming him with that beautiful bit of gold latched and locked around his throat. Removable only by a turn of the key that rests against your breastbone.

Mine! You long to taunt out into the crowd like a bratty little girl gifted with a coveted doll.

Reluctantly, you leave him to it, with his three brothers to back him, while you ready for his return backstage. If only they would scrap the encore. You should feel guilty wishing to rob the fans of but a few more stolen moments. And usually, you would. Normally, such a thought would never even cross your mind to begin with, but tonight….

You hear Danny and Sam first, loping down the hall outside the dressing room door, loudly joking and laughing, stroking one another’s egos over a job well done.

Jake, quiet and reflective after a show, has probably already padded by unnoticed, likely berating himself silently over a mistake or two no one else even came close to noticing. He is hard on himself to a punishing degree, and it breaks your heart, but you’ll worry about platonically tending to his wounds later.

You watch the handle turn from your regal perch on the couch. Straight-backed, yet casual and self assured, you remind him of royalty…but it’s good that you aren’t privy to that fact yet, lest your head swell any further.

He has hardly had a chance to close the door when you order him to his knees.

He looks sinful. Flushed with color, eyes flashing, chest still heaving with exertion, curls askew and chaotic. He resembles a madman, and if you had a straight jacket at the ready, you’d wrangle him into it and fuck him like an insatiable nurse in an asylum.

You curl a finger at him, beckoning him closer “Come here.”

“Let me grab a towel first, pen.” He implores with no real conviction. “My face is all sweaty.”

“My thighs will work just fine, rockstar.” You click a heel harshly on the floor, summoning him. The spike of your pump drives a tiny wedge in the hardwood. You might feel badly for the damage if you could think about anything other than him, on his knees like a fallen god.

“Yeah?” He throws you a flirty smirk. “You want my mouth? You want me to baby that little wet cunt until you cum real sweet all over my tongue?”

“Save it.” You sigh, “I’m the front man now. So you just do as you’re told and look pretty. Then we’ll see if you’ve earned a rose.”

Pulling open the thin, waffle weave robe that should have been reserved for his after performance shower, you let him in on the secret: your heels are the only thing adorning your body, aside from that golden key reflecting the light with a wink…and you’ve been stretched out on the couch facing a very unlocked door with but a lightweight robe to guard your nonexistent innocence.

He turns to lock the door, but you stop him with a mere shake of your head. “You’ve just worn a collar in front of thousands and now you’ve found your modesty? No. If someone wants to come in and watch what a good boy you’re about to be for mama, let them.”

“Baby…”

“I said, let them.” You snap breathily, with another crack of your heel.

He winces at the noise, but it’s a lovely little moan of a sound that causes a tiny smile to tug at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah, c’mere, sweet boy…” you coax. “You want to so badly. I can feel it, how much you need me. I’m right here, baby.”

He starts to make his way closer, shuffling on his knees awkwardly, but then wisely thinks better of it and falls forward onto his palms, crawling on all fours. Wardrobe will have a field day with the white velvet knees of his jumpsuit.

“There’s mama’s good boy.” You praise softly, like a lullaby. “What would they all say if they could see you crawling for me? Those powerful hands that held their hearts just moments ago, on the dirty floor just to get a taste.”

“They don’t really want me that way.” He’s fishing for compliments as he bridges the gap between you slowly, but you know it stems from a well hidden, but very real nonetheless, sapling of self doubt that unfortunately flourishes inside his head. He didn’t seek this life out, and he still feels out of place in it now and then.

You arch a brow and roll your ankle, seductively bringing attention to the black leather you’ll have pressed into his back soon enough, with his angelic face between your legs. “Oh, no? Is that why you parade yourself around for them the way you do? The way you tease them with that pretty, soft cock that isn’t always quite so soft? The way you move like you’re fucking? Because they don’t want you that way?”

“Say more things like that.” He sighs, now close enough to rest his forehead against your silken shin.

“You’re a whore for praise,” you run your fingers through his dampened curls, raking your nails against his scalp. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“No.” He lies boldly.

You know he wants to hear you say it again. He is surrounded with constant accolades from nearly every angle. The wunderkind in a genre dominated by seasoned, legendary heroes. He likes a bit of degradation now and then, as well. ‘Knock me down a peg or two’ his eyes whisper.

But, again, you’re steering this ship tonight.

“Well then, I wouldn’t want to spoil the record.” You pull him in close by the hair, and then closer still with your fingers tucked into his collar “My cunt is wet and lonely, tiny dancer. Why don’t you make me feel a little better?”

“Fuck…” the obscenity groans out of him low and long, and you throb at the sound of it. Nearly a growl. Animalistic and needful. Hungry. Primal.

You effectively shut him up with another harsh pull on his collar, burying his face between your legs. He shakes his head back and forth greedily - you are the elusive mirage he has been hunting down in the desert, and now you are his at last…quenching an ancient thirst.

“That’s it…” you breathe, rocking your hips up into his kiss. “Doing such a good job already. Were you thinking about this the whole time on stage? Famished for my cunt in that gorgeous mouth of yours?”

He nods eagerly, but refuses to stop long enough to answer you properly, which just so happens to be exactly the way you want it.

“Take it out.” You command softy, sucking in a hiss when the tip of his tongue laps over your swollen clit just right.

He’s fighting his way out of the confines of his suit instantly. Tugging his arms free of the sleeves and shoving it down his hips, mouth indulging you all the while.

You can’t get an unobstructed look, but a guttural moan vibrates into your pussy as it drips over his tongue, proving he has wrapped his fist around his neglected cock.

“Does that feel good, rockstar?” You tease, grip latched onto the collar unforgivingly. “Stroking your cock with a mouthful of pussy? Are you my sweet boy, doing so good for me?”

“I am…” he murmurs, muffled, yet eager, against your soaked folds. “Wanna make you cum.”

“Don’t worry about me.” You snatch at the golden choker, tugging him around between your legs. “You just take care of that pretty cock of yours. Fuck your fist like it’s my cunt sucking you in. Or my mouth. Or my ass.”

A long, loud, groan that borders on sounding painful, escapes him as he tugs your clit into his warm, wet mouth.

“Someone liked that.” You’re taunting him, hiding how close he has you already behind your mockery. “Wouldn’t that be lovely for your sweet cock right now? To be buried in that tight little forbidden spot? All warm, and snug, and wrong…”

“Fuck, baby…” he moans, releasing you from his kiss for but a moment. “Gonna cum…fuck, fuck fuck…”

“Up here,” you bite out harshly, yanking him up by the collar so roughly he chokes out a cough, “Right here, baby. Paint me pretty.”

His eyes lock in on where you’ve patted at your cunt to show him where you want it, and a mere second later, with a whining cry of your name, his release, hot and perfect, spills across you.

You watch with rapt attention, eagerly anticipating what you have up your sleeve next.

He catches his breath slowly, panting with his forehead buried against the softness of your stomach.

“Clean it up.” You order, lovingly petting at his hair.

“Hmm?” He sounds far away and blissfully blurry.

“Your mess.” You reiterate, with a snap of a tug on his curls. “Clean it up.”

You could laugh when he tries to rise to his feet for a towel, but instead, you hold fast to that collar that has rapidly become your very best friend. “With your mouth.”

Ever eager to please and prove his devotion to everything devious, he makes short work of the evidence. Savoring it like a fine wine. “You taste even better when I’m there too.”

You can’t hide the fond smile that plays over your lips. He loves himself almost as much as he loves you, and you like it just fine that way. He should be in love with himself as well…he is perfection, an angel floating along in this realm disguised as one of us.

How you managed to capture his affections you’ll never fully grasp.

Watching him lick the last of his release off the back of his thumb, you shake your admiration off and issue a brand new order.

“Fix your suit while I gather our things.”

“But you haven’t cum yet.” He protests with a petulant pitch in his tone.

You wave him off like it doesn’t matter as you fight to ignore the pounding, throbbing, ache between your legs. “Later.”

When, at last, you’re ready to leave, you slip the golden lead from your bag, swinging it down at your side as you make your way forward.

“Baby, there are still people out there.” He protests, but he can’t hide the intrigue in his complaint. And, as always, he knows his safe word for anything he isn’t truly comfortable with. His silence on that front speaks volumes.

“Hardly.” You click the leash in place at the back of his collar and ease him onto his feet. “Just be glad I’m not making you crawl.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @dvrkblooms @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

👀

need a fic where you play with sams hair and he immediately turns into putty in your hands. he'll do whatever you tell him to do so long as you keep twisting and pulling so deliciously on his long locks.

and even better if this discovery happens by accident, your hand getting caught and tugging, pulling a moan from sam that you initially think is pain but once you spot the red cheeks and the glassy eyes you know both of you are in for a treat.

I think each of the boys would have a different way of greeting you after getting off stage:

I think Jake would put his arm around you, ask "how'd you like it?" and then drag you into the shower with him. He'd tell you that he was thinking about you the whole show, and make the bathroom a little extra steamy.

Josh would plant a wet kiss right on your forehead and snuggle into your neck before taking you to his dressing room and changing whilst you make him a throat coat tea. (He'd definitely save you a rose).

Sam would just flop down on the green room couch, practically laying on top of you, koala-ing himself onto you and thank you for coming. He'd absolutely pass out until it was time to go, and then coerce you into "helping" him change.

Danny, I think, would make the biggest deal, wrapping you in a tight hug, maybe even picking you up off the ground and spinning you around. He would most definitely kiss you and make you shower with him. He'd also ALWAYS ask what your favorite part was.

I colored it in :3

I hated the last post so feel free to discuss what he’s supposed to be doing in this photo

Thee kiddos

Here, Kitty, Kitty/ d.r.w

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI 18+ sugar daddy danny, jealousy, sir/daddy kink, degradation kink, pet names (literally), oral sex (m!receiving), teasing, unprotected sex (p+v), cock warming, praise, begging, orgasm denial, squirting, breeding

as always please lmk if any warnings are missed!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The tighter money got, the slimmer your choices did, too. Two jobs could barely pay your bills, but a third wouldn’t fit into the schedule. You’d resorted to selling pictures to people you would quick add on SnapChat. That went well for about a month before the handful of men you relied on for income suddenly couldn’t afford to pay for content. Just as the stress had been alleviated, it returned. That was until you gave in fully and began looking into sugar daddy websites. At this rate you felt you had nothing left to lose, what was a little sex with a creepy old man?

Much to your liking, you found someone much better than a guy old enough to be your grandfather. This one was twenty-five with the build of a Greek god. His profile consisted of a singular photo, one you were sure couldn’t have been his own. You’d began chatting with him and it wasn’t long before he requested an in person meet up. Again, you had nothing left to lose, safety didn’t matter when there was money on the line. He requested to see you on Wednesday, to which you denied due to being scheduled at both jobs.

Danny W. : I’ll pay you what both jobs would if you see me instead

You: Tips and all?

Danny W. : I’ll make it worth your while

From there on out you’d start seeing him every Wednesday at six o’clock sharp. He insisted on picking you up every week, rolling down the street of your slum apartment in his very new black Corvette adorned with tinted windows and red rims. The sex was like no other, not to mention the amount of money he paid you simply for your time. But over the course of two months you found yourself slowly falling for your sugar daddy. He wouldn’t let you leave until you came, more so for his pride than your pleasure, and with that knowledge you’d edge yourself just to spend more time with him. Each week when he took you home, you simply passed time until it was Wednesday again.

What was supposed to be a temporary income, just enough until you got on your feet, became a long term thing simply to keep Danny in company. But you didn’t want NDA’s and Wednesday nights to be your life with him anymore. It started to seem that way from his end, too, when he started casually texting you more than on Tuesday’s to solidify plans. Thursday mornings he would text or call to make sure you were okay after the prior night’s events. Some mornings you woke up to flowers being delivered, even things you needed more so than things he wanted to see you in. It wasn’t a secret he was behind the new couch, especially since he paid to have your car fixed. You liked him taking care of you, but you wanted more from him than an allowance. You wanted to come home every night to him, to call him whenever you wanted, to love him.

While you were patiently waiting for an appropriate time to express your feelings to Danny, you knew there was no shot with him. He’s a rockstar, hence the NDA’s, why would he settle for someone like you? You’d go to pass the time at bars and clubs, shamelessly flirting with men and women for free drinks, even giving head a few times for whatever they’d give you in return. You weren’t particularly proud of it, but you weren’t ashamed either.

Wednesday rolled around again, Danny arrived an hour earlier than the set schedule you’d been following for months now. He called you while you were in the middle of curling your hair, you quickly finished the piece you were working on before answering.

“Hey, can you let me in?” His warm, sultry voice melted you.

“Yes, sir.” You waited for him to hang up, but he stayed on the other end until he heard the locks coming undone. You wrapped your fingers around the knob and slowly opened the door, Danny shoving his foot between the door and frame. He pushed his way into your house, his eyes dark and angry as if he knew something.

“You’re early… I was-”

“Why were you at the club on Saturday?” He pressed himself against you until your back was flush against the wall, his washboard abs firm against your torso. You looked up at him before looking past in attempts to ignore the question, but he wouldn’t let that slide. “Tell me the truth, kitten, or you can kiss your two grand down the drain.”

He’s never threatened to not pay you before. He always left ample opportunity to make more money by doing specific things to or for him, or vice versa, but never the chance to lose any. Deciding the money didn’t necessarily matter, you chose to toy with him. Press his buttons.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say pointedly, batting your eyelashes at him with a pout.

“Eighteen. Wanna try again?” He managed to get closer, your lungs craving air as he applied pressure against your body with his.

“Danny, I don’t-”

“Sixteen. Tell me, did he kiss you like I do?” Closer.

“Maybe even better.” You could feel his blood boiling under his skin. He was jealous.

“Is that so?” He scoffed, pulling away entirely from you. “That mouth would be prettier with my cock in it since all you’re doing is spewing bullshit anyways.”

You watched as Danny made his way to your couch, sitting directly in the middle with his legs spread. His hands slid down the front of his body, trailing down to toy with his zipper and button without ever undoing them.

“C’mere, Kitty girl. If you put that filthy mouth of yours to good use you can go back up to eighteen.”

You nod and make your way before him, lowering yourself onto your knees between his legs. You slide your hands up either of his legs slowly until your nimble fingers make contact with his button and zipper. Carefully undoing his pants, you dipped your hands past the waistband of his briefs before exposing his length to the air.

As quick as your lips wrap around the pillowy head of his cock, Danny’s hand finds a home nestled in your hair. His free hand cupped the bottom of your jaw, guiding your tongue and lips over his shaft. Your head bobbed as you slowly fed more of Danny’s cock down your throat. When your nose was flush against the dusting of hair at the base, he held you there, only removing you when you gagged from the pure size. With his hand nestled in your hair, and tears in your eyes, he pulls you off his length. Only strings of saliva connected you to his cock. Heat grew between your legs the harder he fisted your hair, a whine escaping your lips. You really did sound like a kitten, it’s no wonder he’d bestowed such a nickname upon you. Danny tugged your hair until he brought you to your feet, bringing your lips to his. A stream of air blew from his lips, cooling the saliva that coated your mouth. Hungry for his touch, you tried leaning in to kiss him.

“Look at you begging for forgiveness like a dog. Maybe Kitty doesn’t suit you anymore.” Anyone else speaking to you this way would shatter your ego, but somehow his harsh words were still laced with lust. He tugs your head away from him before letting go of your hair, your cheeks flaming a bright red.

Danny sat up before placing his hands on the exposed skin of your thighs, walking his fingers up the expanse of your skin until he reached your hips. His fingers traced over your bones expecting a waistband of some sort had you bothered to put any on. When he’d realized there were no panties adorning your hips, he opted to press the pads of his fingers into your skin instead. A single ‘fuck’ was uttered as he rutted his hips up into nothing. You knew better than to make a comment about his desperation, but a smile still crept across your face knowing he wanted you. Danny’s face quickly grew annoyed once he caught on to the look you wore.

“Do you like pissing me off, Kitty girl?” He gritted, his grasp growing slightly tighter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“No? Maybe I need to show you.” Danny spun your body around so your back was facing him, his hands pushing your tiny dress up over your hips. He was quick to break contact again, leaving only the sensation of his fingers behind as he let go of your hips. He hummed at the sight of you, surely your slick coated thighs visible.

“Look at you already fuckin’ soaked, kitten. Want me to fuck you that bad?”

“Yes, sir.” You desperately mewled.

“Show me you deserve it then. Spread it open for daddy.”

You bent at the hips, reaching your hands back to seperate your ass cheeks, exposing your soaked cunt for him to see. His hands found your hips again as he guided you towards him until the back of your legs met his shins. Danny runs two fingers between your folds before hovering over your entrance, never giving you the pleasure of dipping them in.

“Good girl… Now sit back on it.”

You lower yourself onto his lap, fully taking his length in your aching core. Danny wraps his palms around your wrists, bringing them to your back before pinning both down with one of his hands. His free hand wrapped around you, laying flat on your stomach under the bunched up fabric of your dress. He fucked up into you quick and hard until your began to give out. At that point he pulled you down on his length, allowing you to sit on his lap. The head of his cock brushed your cervix as you swirl your hips, squeezing your knees together for friction against your clit.

“Turn around, wanna see you.” He nudged his hips up, groaning when you lifted off of him. You straddled his thighs, hovering your entrance over his leaking tip. It didn’t take long before lowering yourself, teasing him wasn’t worth whatever punishment he’d throw your way. Eager to feel his lips against yours, you leaned in again hoping he’d satisfy your craving. His lips crashed into yours like the ocean’s wave against the shoreline. Burying your hands deep in his curly, brunette locks, you tugged gently. Danny stifled a whimper, careful not to let you think he’d slip up easily.

“Feel so good, daddy.” You moaned into his neck, gently sucking on his skin enough to make him whine but not leave marks.

“Yeah? Like when I fuck your whore pussy?”

You moaned, his pace growing quicker as you grew tighter around him. He knew you were close and he was, too. The feeling washing over you was stronger than before like no other orgasm you’d felt.

“Sir, can I cum?” You needed to, and you knew what his answer would be.

“Not yet, hold on for daddy. M’so close, baby.”

The faster his hips snapped into yours, the tighter the band in your stomach became. His pace wasn’t letting up. What felt like an eternity, but was truly a few minutes, passed before his hips started to falter.

“Go ahead Kitty, you’ll clean up whatever mess you make with that mouth of yours.”

Your orgasm finally came, your senses completely overtaken by your pleasure. So much so you hadn’t noticed a newfound fluid covering Danny’s thighs. You’d squirted all over him, soaking his pants and shirt with your arousal. Danny’s release was quick to follow as he buried himself to the hilt, his warm seed spilling into your throbbing cunt.

“Thank you, sir.” You cried, your body shaking as you came down from your orgasm.

“Such a good girl, Kitty, you take me so well.”

“Fuck, Y/n…” He sighed and wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into his chest in a hug. This was the first time he’d used your name since he met you. He’d call you Kitty and kitten so much they truly started to feel like your name, but something about the syllables of the name you’d had your whole life rolling off his tongue nearly brought you to tears. There was a sense of domestication to it all. Your real name, the kissing, him holding you.

“Yes?” You barely whispered, trying to hold back your emotions over the simple formality of your name.

“Keep fucking me this good, I’ll have to promote you.”

The Lovers, The Dreamers, And Us || Josh kiszka x F!reader

Warnings: recreational drug use

Pure fluff, crack treated seriously tbh

wc: 1.7k

-

Josh had invited you over for a night in with him and the boys.

You knew what that meant. Getting high off their fancy, expensive weed, and getting loose with each other while step brothers plays on the large screen in the background. Ten minutes after getting the message, you were in a soft sweater, grabbing your bag that was full of snacks, and heading out the door. They only lived about 15 minutes away, so you decided to send Josh a text, letting him know you were on your way. Upon your arrival, you noticed that Josh’s jeep was the only car in the drive way. This made you raise your eyebrow, but you figured they were still on their way.

You parked and made your way to the door, knocking with the jaunty tune of “shave and a haircut,” alerting Josh to your presence. You stood back, shifting from foot to foot while you waited for him to let you in. In true Josh fashion, he took his sweet time. Just as you were about to knock again, the door came swinging open, a slight plume of smoke making its way out onto the porch. “I see you got started with out me,” you hummed, eyeing him as you pushed your way past him, making yourself out home with no hesitance. You met his eye as he grinned at you. “You sure keep me in check, don’t you,” he laughed, making his way over to the couch that you had settled yourself on. You let your head fall back against the plush cushion, watching as Josh reached for the bong, making sure the cherry was still bright, and producing smoke. He took a deep inhale, smirking at the way the water bubbled, before letting the smoke settle in his lungs and pushing it out. He thrust the glass object towards you, shaking it lightly. You rolled your eyes and grabbed it, taking a decent hit to get yourself started. “I usually wait for the others, y’know,” you teased, the last little bit of smoke flowing through your lips as you talked. Josh shifted in his spot next to you, “Yeah.” He signed, letting his head roll to the side so he was facing you. “They aren’t coming.”

“What?” You asked, a little startled, “Why not?”

Josh groaned, “Danny roped the other two into going out tonight, after I had already invited you. But I didn’t want to cancel on you, so… I figured you and I could keep up the tradition.”

It wasn’t uncommon for this type of thing to occur. Though, there was something different about getting high with just Josh. Something… Tender, secretive, yearning almost.

You giggled and sighed, letting the weed make its way into your psyche. “It’s fine, they’re a bunch of weenies. We’ll just get high enough for all of them.” You said, matter-of-factly. Josh nodded in agreement, your glassy eyes meeting each other for a second that was just too long to be platonic. You tore your eyes away, grabbing your bag and plopping it down in between the two of you. “We feast,” you said, tone flourishing, as you grabbed the copious amount of junk food you had stuffed in there. “Ugh, you are, an angel,” Josh groaned as he packed another bowl, eyeing the selection you had laid out in front of him. He held the flame under the bowl, letting the glass heat, small plumes of smoke rising from the bowl. He took another hit, letting the smoke permeate his lungs before grabbing a bag of hot Cheetos and tearing it open. “The heartburn is gonna be wild,” He sighed, releasing the smoke from his lung. You rummaged around in your bag before pulling out the tums, slapping the bottle in his hand, “I came prepared,” you said, watching the dopey smile spread across his face. “My angel,” he sighed, repeating the term of endearment from earlier. Your cheeks burned, there was that yearning feeling again.

The peaceful atmosphere and your altered state heightened these feelings, making them harder to ignore. It wasn’t like you were ignorant to your feelings about Josh, it’s just that they were that much more obvious in this room alone, with your thighs pressing against Josh’s. You allowed yourself to feel, letting your head fall onto his shoulder, cheeks heating once more as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You sat up, grabbing the bong, taking a few more deep hits, letting your head spin. “Jesus, y/n, we have plenty to go around, it isn’t going anywhere.” Josh laughed, you laughed too, for a reason unbeknownst the the both of you, before you were laid over in his lap in a fit of giggles. You let your head rest against his thighs as your laughter settled, his hands tangling themselves into your hair.

You could feel the way his stomach rose and fell with his breath.

You shifted so you were looking up at him, only a little bit surprised to find him looking back, eyes glassy, a wide smile across his face as he continued to play with your hair. You smiled at the feeling of his hands, letting your eyes fall shut, laughing softly at the familiar sound of Will Ferrel and John C. Reiley arguing about drum kits. “That’s Sam and Danny,” You stuttered out, laughing at your own joke before it even finished leaving your lips. You watched as Josh threw his head back and laughed loudly, body moving as he did so. He wiped his eyes, taking a breath, before spluttering into laughter once more, you following suit, tears pricking at your eyes.

You loved these moments, blissful, unashamed belly laughs, were sure to cure the things of the world. You quited down, eyes still on Josh, as they always seemed to be lately. He bent over slightly, face resting just above yours. “You are one of a kind, angel.” He breathed, you could feel his breath hitting your lips. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Kiszka, super famous rockstar.” You sighed, eyes flicking down to his lips, and back up to meet his eyes. “Please, you’ve always been the better singer. Writing those songs, just for you to sing them to an empty room. Though, no body would be worthy of hearing a voice as beautiful as yours,” He said softly. You looked away, lips parting. “Sing to me,” Josh said, leaning back, head falling against the couch once more as his fingers resumed their movements in your hair.

“Why are there so many, songs about rainbows…” You started softly, holding back the giggles, “and what’s on the other side,” Josh finished, voice coming out strained and nasally in a poor attempt to mimic kermit the frog. “Rainbows are visions, but only illusions. So we’ve been told and some choose to believe it. I know they’re wrong, wait and see.” Your voice was soft, “Some day we’ll find it, the rainbow connection…” Your voice slowed as Josh leaned back over you, returning to the close proximity. “The lovers, the dreamers, and me,” you finished, blinking slowly at the man above you. You shifted, sitting up, before maneuvering yourself into Josh’s lap. “Am I reading this wrong?” You asked, feeling suddenly bold, the weed taking away your inhibitions. Josh shook his head slowly, leaning in ever so slightly, inviting you to close the gap, and so you did. Your lips met softly, kiss deepening as you got used to the feeling of each other.

The door swung open, banging against the wall, “WHERE’S THE P-“ Sam’s voice bellowed, stoping at the sight of you and Josh in a somewhat compromising position. You pulled away from him, startled at the new presence. “Hey guys,” Josh giggled, “Y/n its supposed to go ‘the lovers, the dreamers and ME’ not ‘the lovers, the dreamers and SAM,” Josh choked out, smile practically breaking his face in half. You squawked, laughter bubbling up from your chest, you leaned into Josh, head falling on his shoulder.

You caught your breath, just for your eyes to land an a semi drunk Sam, Danny, and Jake who were still awkwardly standing in the doorway, making your laughter start up again. “I think we need to be on their level,” Danny says, walking deeper into the house before settling next to you and Josh on the couch. “What so were going to start kissing each other? Revealing deep-seated feelings for each other?” Jake laughed, flopping down on to the rocking chair in the corner. “You have feelings for me?” You whispered, searching Josh’s eyes. “You haven’t told her? Josh what the fu-“ Sam started cut off by Jake and Danny simultaneously shushing him. Josh rolled his eyes, “Way to ruin it Sammy, but yes. Y/n, I like you,” he sighed, “Love, he means love,” Sam interrupted. “Jesus, Sam! We’re having a fucking moment, pack a bowl or something!” You hissed, earning snickers from Jake and Danny, before turning your attention back to Josh. “Yes, I love you. I would give up everything if It meant I would be able to just sing kermit the frog with you, I’d never smoke again if it meant I get to hold you, I’d smoke every day if it meant I get to hold you like this again. Even if it was just for a second,” Josh rambled. You giggled, quieting him with a kiss, “I love you, so much, Josh. I alway have.” You admitted, planting one more kiss on his plush lips. Cheering erupted from the other side of the room. “Finally!” Jake cheered, fake British accent making an appearance as the weed and alcohol mixed.

You smiled and rolled your eyes fondly, resting your forehead on Josh’s. “Can you believe those guys,” Josh scoffed before smirking, “C’mon babe. Pack us another bowl.” You flushed at the nickname, knowing the truth it held. You moved from your straddling position, grabbing the extra bong on the table and packing it, before flopping back down into Josh’s lap, throwing your legs over Danny’s.

That secretive, tender feeling, was now filling up the room, and you couldn’t be happier about it. You and Josh should’ve gotten high together without the boys a lot sooner, but you were looking forward to the new moments you two were going to share, rather than the ones you may have missed out on.

-

hehe i hope yall liked this