I Think Each Of The Boys Would Have A Different Way Of Greeting You After Getting Off Stage:

Captain Jake Kiszka, the most feared pirate on the seas.

Hungry For More...

Danny/M!Reader

Warnings: oral sex (mrec), coming in pants, hair pulling

If there was one thing that got Danny worked up, it was letting him get on his knees and give you head.

Tonight was no different.

You could tell the second he got home that he was aching for it, his hands never leaving your skin as you finished dinner. There was a primal need in the way he touched you, a desperation that simmered beneath the surface as he guided you towards the bedroom as soon as you both finished eating.

"What's got you all worked up Danny? Hmm?" You ask as he backs you up to the bed. You let yourself sit at the edge as he drops to his knees.

"Just needed you..." He mumbled, "Needed this."

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the pajama pants you wore, looking up at you to ask permission. As soon as you nodded, he pulled them down and off your legs, licking his lips at the sight in front of him.

Having been turned on ever since he got home, you were hard as a rock by this point. He scooted closer, nipping at your thighs until he finally reached your cock, licking a stripe up the side of it and taking it in his mouth.

His nose rubbed against your pubes as he deepthroated you as far as he could. Danny liked it wet and messy, and he made sure you knew it. His mouth and tongue worked with a relentless hunger, savoring the taste of your arousal as he bobbed his head up and down. The sensation was electrifying, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the slick noises Danny was making. He teased the vein under your head, the sensation causing you to tangle a hand in his hair.

"Fuck, Danny!" Your noises only pushed him to bring you closer to the edge, tugging on his hair every time he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

Danny himself wasn't much more put together than. you were at the moment, his cock rubbing against his sweatpants as he tried to keep from giving in and humping your leg like a dog. He could feel that he was so close already, and you tugging on his scalp wasn't doing anything but pushing him closer to that edge.

He moaned after a particularly harsh tug, and that was it for you. You gasped and came with a whine, holding him in place as you rode out your orgasm, cumming in his mouth. That proved to be the last straw for Danny too, causing him to throw his head back as much as he could, coating the inside of his sweatpants with his release.

You both caught your breath, and you soothed his hair with your hand as he rested his head on your thigh. It didn't take long for you to sit up, motioning for Danny to switch spots.

"C'mon, lemme do you next."

Danny was a bit red, "I, uh... I already..."

As soon as you realized what he meant, you felt your face heat up, and a small giggle escaped your mouth.

"Aw, you really enjoy sucking me off that much?"

Instead of answering, Danny just leaned up and captured your lips in a kiss, climbing onto the bed with you.

"I enjoy anything that involves you, (Y/N)."

GVF and crying!reader

warnings: just a touch of angst

Josh

You've had a terrible day.

From people pissing you off at work, to spilling your lunch on the floor, to the grocery store being out of the one thing you needed, the only thing you stopped for.

So when Josh called and said he'd be home late from the studio, you broke.

"That's fine, see you in a little bit baby," you said, willing your voice not to crack, wiping at your eyes. "Are you okay?" You heard Josh's voice crackled through the speaker, "Yeah," you sighed, not wanting to keep him any longer, "'M okay. I- uh. I'm gonna get started on dinner, Love you." your voice cracked on those last two words, and you hung up before he could say anything else.

You dropped your phone onto the couch cushion next to you, curling in on yourself, and allowing the tears to flow freely down your face. You let out a short sob, wanting nothing more than to be held by Josh, but he was working late, and you felt awful bothering him over something so trivial. So, you sat for what felt like years, hoping you'd be calm by the time Josh did get home.

Through your tears, you didn't hear the front door open, Josh's sudden presence going unnoticed until he spoke. "Baby, what's wrong?"

You jumped at his voice. "Josh?" you croaked, sniffling and wiping your face, "W- I thought you had to stay late?"

"You sounded so upset on the phone, I thought being here with you was more important."

You cracked at this confession, a fresh wave of tears pouring from your eyes. "I just had such an awful day, I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like you needed to come home," you stuttered out, burying your face in your hands.

You felt Josh's palms against your cheeks, "You are the love of my life, I want to be here when you have awful days, to hold you and make you feel better. I came home because I wanted to, because you're worth it." He said gently, eyes shining. You sniffled again, leaning into his touch, letting him hold you like you so desperately needed.

After you calmed down, tears finally stopping, you told Josh about your day, apologizing once more before he stopped you. "Babe, you are allowed to have bad days, do you know how many times you've made me feel better have a shitty day? So many times I've lost count! If me being here to hold you is what makes you feel better, then there's no where I'd rather be. Plus, Sam was getting on my damn nerves. So you really saved me," he teased, making you giggle. "There's that smile," he sighed, before moving to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

"Now, let's order thai food from that place down the street." he said, making you laugh and roll your eyes. How'd you ever get so lucky?

Jake

Jake wasn't one to have over the top emotions, he was a level headed man (most of the time). You were the polar opposite, you suppose that's what made you two perfect for each other. Balance was the thing of like, you know.

Though, you couldn't help but look back on the first time Jake saw you cry.

It was about 3 months after you had officially started dating, putting a label on it, you were his and he was yours. And with comfortability, came arguments. No one said love was easy.

Jake had been coming home late, coming home reeking of alcohol, not bothering to say hello, or even acknowledge your presence. It was a trend you were getting tired of, but when you brought it up to him, it was the same response. "I'm fine babe, you know how you get. Emotions are a little dramatic," He'd say, brushing you off, reacting only in the slightest.

And you'll admit, you were quick to anger, quick to react, really. But for the second week in a row of this behavior, it was really grating on you. You missed the man you met.

So one morning after he came home, smelling like the bar, you struck up a conversation.

"Jake, babe. I- I have to be honest, I'm a little worried about you," you started, voice soft. "Don't be," He said flippantly, not bothering to even glance at you. "Jake, please." You urged, finally catching his attention.

"Are you really that bothered about me going out, y/n? It's not that serious," he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't want to start an argument-" you started.

"Fine, then let's just stop here."

"I just-"

"I said, stop."

"Jake-"

"Y/n, ENOUGH."

You gasped at his tone, tears making their way to your eyes. You willed them not to fall, worried at the reaction they'd get from your boyfriend. "I just... I miss you Jake. I-if there's anything I can do..." you trailed, voice wobbling.

He finally looked at you, noticing the way your eyes shined, tears threatening to spill. You blinked, allowing them to stream down your face, looking anywhere but his face.

"Y/n..." His voice was soft.

"I'm sorry. I'm just so. I try so hard to be good to you, and I'm fucking it up. I love you, so much. I- I was scared. I've never-" He paused, voice getting caught in his throat. He sniffled before continuing, "I've never felt this way for anyone before. I don't know... How to do this..." He shook his head, his own tears falling from his eyes.

"I want to be in this with you, Jake. I want all of you, not just what you pretend to be. I love you," you breathed, pulling his body into yours, feeling the way his tears wet the fabric of your shirt.

In that moment, your emotions were equal to each others, and you felt stronger in your relationship ever since that moment.

And you know, that when you cry, so does he. Because even though he doesn't show it, he feels just as deeply as you do. And that's why you two are meant for each other.

Daniel

Danny tended to be an emotional man despite his outward appearance.

He wasn't afraid to laugh or cry in front of you. He only really hid his emotions when he was infront of the crowd. Willing the tears of overwhelming pride not to fall.

You loved this about him, you loved the way he wore his heart on his sleeve, it made you feel like you could too. Still, you seldom cried, and even less so in front of others.

Watching him on stage always made you feel some type of way. But tonight, the first show of the tour, you were beside yourself. The way they all lit up, their smiles enough to light the stage by themselves.

It was a truly beautiful experience.

They went through the show with no mishaps, watching the boys pass out the roses, watching Danny toss his sticks into the crowd. The way the fans rallied around them was heart warming, and you were honored to be a part of it.

For some reason, as Danny exited the stage, you were overcome with the emotion of the show, all the joy, and excitement crashing down on you, tears springing up to your eyes. Danny rushed towards you, pulling you into his sweaty embrace. You couldn't even bring yourself to care about the sweat that dripped off his curls.

He pulled away to smack a kiss on your lips, "did you like the show?" he breathed, that toothy smile gracing his features. You took a deep breath, and gave him a watery smile.

"Babe what's wrong?" worry seeping into his tone, eyes searching yours for an answer.

"I'm just so proud of you," you whispered, voice cracking, "I- I don't know. I just- I love seeing you do what you love, it makes me happy."

He smiled at you, "So... Happy tears?" he asked.

You let out a watery laugh, and nodded, "Yeah, happy tears." You sniffled.

"Good, for a second I was worried I was gonna have to start groveling or something." He teased, making you scoff. "I'm glad you liked the show, babe." He said finally, leaning down to give you another soft kiss, and wiping the stray tears from your face.

Sam

Being clumsy and liking to hike wasn't a great combination. You've tripped over air before, and willingly going to a place full of rocks and holes isn't the best idea.

But you loved to hike! So you and Sam packed Rosie in the car and headed off.

The day started off fine, you taking Rosie and trucking ahead while Sam stayed back a few feet, he'd brought his film camera and wanted to get some photos of the day. So far, you'd made it through with nothing but a stumble, and you got a little too comfortable, a little too confident in your balancing abilities.

You handed Roses leash to Sam and jumped up onto a rock, "Careful, babe!" Sam warned, aiming his camera at you as you posed, capturing a few moments.

You clambered of the rock with no issues, throwing Sam a confident "I'm doing great." But that notion was short lived as you stepped in a slick spot of mud, and promptly met the ground. "Fuck!" you said out of surprise as you fell, the rocky ground cutting into your knees, stinging tears rising to your eyes.

Your ankle twinged as you shifted, "Ah shit, y/n. Don't move, babe," Sam fretted, not noticing your tears. You sniffled as you shifted, tears from pain and embarrassment finally falling, "Y/n? Are you crying? What hurts?" Sam said, kneeling in front of you, Rose rounding to lick you in the face. You sniffled and pushed her away gently. "I'm fine," you muttered, cheeks burning red. You don't know why you were embarrassed, this was a common occurrence, but combined with the pain and the distress of ruining the day.

Sam brushed the stray hairs from your face, "will you tell me why you're crying?" Sam asked, worry etched onto his features. You turned away from his gaze, tears still streaming. "Well. I guess I'll just have to cheer you up," He sighed, standing straight.

You arched your brow at him, "knock knock" he started, and you sighed. "Y/n. Knock. Knock." He insisted. You rolled your eyes, "Who's there?" you croaked. "Babe will ya get the door!" he called, grinning stupidly. You couldn't help but giggle, "That was so stupid, Sam."

"Ah but it made you smile, didn't it?" he sang, thrusting a hand towards you to help you up. You groaned as you stood, rolling your ankle a few times as you did so. "You sure you aren't hurt?" Sam asked, softness seeping into his tone.

You smiled at him, "Yeah, just a couple of scratches, my ankle hurts a bit too but I'll be okay. I was mostly embarrassed." You said with a blush.

"Oh well now that just won't do! We both know I'm the embarrassing one!" he scoffed, looking around. He spotted another hiker down the path a little ways, "Hold on." He said, mischievous glint in his eye.

You watched as he walked up to the hiker "'Scuse me, sir. I really had to go but I'm not sure if I did it quite right... Can you see if there are any stains on my shorts?" He said loudly, causing you to stifle a laugh as the fellow hiker grimaced and sped around him.

"Sam, you are ridiculous." you laughed, smile unwavering. "Well, yeah. I had to get even." He said seriously.

You rolled your eyes fondly, but you knew he'd do anything for you, and you'd do the same in return.

Mornings Like These | Jake Kiszka x GN!Reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff || Words: 716

You and jake share a quiet morning together.

-

You blinked the sleep from your eyes, rolling over to see Jake still bundled up in the covers, his long dark hair askew. You sighed, letting a gentle smile spread across your face. You sat up, peering towards the large window adjacent to your shared bed, the sun streaming in, casting a soft glow against the features of the room.

These were your favorite kinds of mornings, when you wake up before Jake and can watch the way the stress fades from his face as he sleeps. He was always so stressed about the tour, wanting it to be perfect, and you appreciated the moments where he could be calm, quiet, and let the lines relax from his face.

Moments pass, and you relish in the peace of the morning, while Jake starts to shift. Turning over, he gives you a lazy smile, eyes half lidded, feature soft. “G’morning beautiful.” He mumbles before lifting up to place a sweet kiss on your lips. You rest your palm against his cheek, “Morning baby, what do you want to do today?” you ask, keeping your voice soft to break the quiet ambience of the morning. He flops back onto his pillows, letting out a hum, “How about… We stay in bed, and you let me hold you.” He says, before moving to bury his face in your neck, you let out a surprised laugh at the soft kisses he leaves there, loving the way his arms feel around your waist.

"Well, if that’s what you really want,” You giggle out, wrapping your arms around him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. You lay there, holding each other for who knows how long, savoring the feeling of being in each other's arms.

The quiet morning is ruined by a loud grumble from Jake’s stomach, forcing laughter from the both of you. You sit up, pushing your hair into somewhat of a cohesive style, before stretching until you get a satisfying pop from your back. You sigh, casting a glance at Jake, who's buried himself under the covers again. You pat the man-shaped lump in the bed as you stand, “C’mon babe, I’ll make you breakfast,” You say, leaving the room and walking towards the kitchen. Jake followed close behind, not bothering to fix his behead.

He flops down onto a chair at the kitchen table, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You rummage around the kitchen, grabbing two bowls from the cabinet, pouring the cereal and filling the bowl with milk. You cross, placing Jake’s bowl in front of him, “Your favorite, my specialty, Cinnamon toast crunch,” you laugh, sitting down in your own chair across from him. You watch as he loads an obscene amount of cereal onto his spoon, shoveling it into his mouth all at once. “This is great babe,” He says, words garbled from the food, milk dripping down his chin. You scoff at him, wrinkling your nose at his habits, “Ew, Jake.” You laugh, before taking your own bite, he pulls a face at you, making you snort, effectively shooting cereal milk out of your nose.

You laugh, coughing and sputtering on the meal, trying to catch your breath as Jake cackles at you. “You should’ve seen your face!” He squeals between laughs, he slams his hand down on the table as he calms down. “Sorry, that was great, y/n, truly.” He cries, wiping fake tears from his eyes. You shake your head at him, wiping the stray milk from your face.

You grimace, “Cinnamon toast crunch doesn’t taste as good when it’s coming out your nose,” this causes Jake to start laughing all over again, you ignore him and finish your cereal before it kills you.

As Jake eats, you reach your hand across the table, feeling his hand slide into yours. “I love mornings like these,” you say, looking at him with all the adoration you can muster, hoping your expression get across your true feelings. “I love them, almost as much as I love you,” He says, smile cheesy and full of joy. You purse your lips at him, “you’re such a sap,”

“I guess that's why you stick around, huh?”

You roll your eyes at his dad joke, you’ll never get tired of mornings like these

Jammies

{Author Commentary: So… I was unable to stop thinking about this & this… and I was  enabled  encouraged by the lovelies @daisyful-gvf @shutupdevvie @allieisacrybaby @earthlysorrows @jake-kiszkas-smirk and as always beta read by my dear @sing-against-the-sky }

Pairing: Josh x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

CW: 18+, minors DNI. (spoilers) subby/sleepy Josh, hand job/blowjob, cum tasting. spit sharing, biting m-recieving, nipple play m-receiving, slight edging, slight overstimulation

Keep reading

anyone else just think that brothers??

or just me?

Hungry For More...

Danny/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Oral sex, coming in pants, hair pulling

If there was one thing that got Danny worked up, it was letting him get on his knees and eat you out.

Tonight was no different.

You could tell the second he got home that he was aching for it, his hands never leaving your skin as you finished dinner. There was a primal need in the way he touched you, a desperation that simmered beneath the surface as he guided you towards the bedroom as soon as you both finished eating.

"What's got you all worked up Danny? Hmm?" You ask as he backs you up to the bed. You let yourself sit at the edge as he drops to his knees.

"Just needed you..." He mumbled, "Needed this."

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the pajama pants you wore, looking up at you to ask permission. As soon as you nodded, he pulled them down and off your legs, licking his lips at the sight in front of him.

Having been turned on ever since he got home, you were nearly dripping by this point. He scooted closer, nipping at your thighs until he finally reached your core and dove all in.

His nose rubbed against your clit as his tongue explored as far inside you as it could reach. Danny liked it wet and messy, and he made sure you knew it. His mouth and tongue worked with a relentless hunger, savoring the taste of your arousal as he delved deeper, exploring every inch of your most intimate parts. The sensation was electrifying, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the slick noises Danny was making. He moved up to suck your clit, the sensation causing you to trap his head between your thighs and tangle a hand in his hair.

"Fuck, Danny!" Your noises only pushed him to bring you closer to the edge, tugging on his hair every time he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

Danny himself wasn't much more put together than. you were at the moment, his cock rubbing against his sweatpants as he tried to keep from giving in and humping your leg like a dog. He could feel that he was so close already, and you tugging on his scalp wasn't doing anything but pushing him closer to that edge.

He moaned after a particularly harsh tug, and that was it for you. You gasped and came with a whine, holding him in place as you rode out your orgasm. That proved to be the last straw for Danny too, causing him to throw his head back as much as he could, coating the inside of his sweatpants with his release.

You both caught your breath, and you soothed his hair with your hand as he rested his head on your thigh. It didn't take long for you to sit up, motioning for Danny to switch spots.

"C'mon, lemme do you next."

Danny was a bit red, "I, uh... I already..."

As soon as you realized what he meant, you felt your face heat up, and a small giggle escaped your mouth.

"Aw, you really enjoy eating me out that much?"

Instead of answering, Danny just leaned up and captured your lips in a kiss, climbing onto the bed with you.

"I enjoy anything that involves you, (Y/N)."

Feels Like Gold

Jake Kiszka x AFAB/GN reader

18+

Warnings: graphic sexual content, oral sex (both rec), penatrative sex, swearing, alcohol use, chris appearance (he needs his own warning), etc.

Word count: 1.9k

Ok so I've never written fanfiction BUT I really wanted some pirate jakey, so little summary is you've been 'disguised' as a man on his ship for a year and your captain is drunk, horny, and desperate ermmm yeah yay!

~

The year is 1689, you are disguised as a man, working as a deckhand on 'The Golden Fleet'.

The captain, Jacob Thomas, as any captain is, or at least should be, was ruthless. At the time, he is one of the most feared pirates of the seven seas. You have watched this man battle the greatest, he pulled a sword on fucking Blackbeard, the man beat guns with a fucking sword!

For the most part, the crew was scared of him, and reasonably so. No one dare disobey his orders or commands, no matter how insane, lest they want their head chopped off.

Despite all of this, you had taken a strange interest in him. Maybe even a liking. For a filthy, drunken pirate, he was surprisingly gorgeous. His eyes were entrancing, dark and deep, holding grotesque secrets of the sea. His skin was rough and tan from days in the sun on the water, working and commanding. His clothes were dark, worn down. Occasionally, he would steal new things when the ship stopped at ports. Silken shirts and nice leathers, but he usually just wore the same things till they fell apart. Over time you had taken a fondness to him, and it seems, he to you.

~

Usually, every few weeks, the ship would stop for a day at a port, not for the crews leisure, but for the captains. He needed his….fixes. He would disappear for the entire time, off with groups of maidens, whores, and when he returned, he would be in a much better mood. At the moment though, you were too far out at sea to stop. It had been around 4 months, and the men were starting to get desperate. Your captain, in particular, had been in a horrible mood. Far more angry than usual, screaming at the crew, and staying cooped up in his quarters, soaked in booze.

It was extraordinarly late at night, the moon was high, the ship was rocking with the waves and wind. You were lying awake in your makeshift bed, unable to sleep. Suddenly, you were approached by Chris, the first mate. He was standing above you. He nudged you with his boot to get your attention. "The captain wishes to see you..in his quarters." He gave you a little smile before disappearing.

You quietly make your way to Jacob's door, deep within the ship, away from the crew. He liked his privacy. You knock quietly at the worn down wood, and his voice bellows out, slurred. "Come in."

You carefully open the door, and you are met with a sight that makes your cunt weep. Jacob sits in an old chair, his legs spread open, his head hung down. His shirt was popped open,  all but the last 2 buttons undone. He had a painfully obvious erection, prominent under the leather of his pants. His fingers on one side were curled around the neck of an almost-empty bottle of rum. His long hair had fallen in front of his face, and he peered up at you through it. "Birdie..c'mere" He said, beckoning you forward with his free hand.

Bird. The nickname he had bestowed upon you, when, on your first day on his ship, a seagull shit on your head. He had watched you struggle to wash it out, teasing you the entire time for it. A week later, the same happened to him, and he claims you cursed him.

You awkwardly made your way over to him until you stood between his legs. He slowly tilted his head back to look at you, taking in your features for a moment. His voice comes out low and raspy.

"Kneel."

You hesitate for a moment, frozen by shock. He couldn't be serious? You are quickly corrected that he is, when his eyebrows furrow angrily, and he raises his voice ever so slightly.

"You heard me. Kneel. Obey your Captain."

Not wanting to risk pissing him off any further, you immediately drop to your knees before him. He grins at that.

"There you go. Good." And with that, his free hand is buried in your hair, roughly shoving you forward until your nose is pressed against his crotch. You look up at him wide eyed for a moment, before relaxing a little into it, gently mouthing at him through the leather.

He groans. "Y'know what I want"

He fumbles with the button of his pants until it pops open, shoving them down his thighs until his cock springs free. He's incredibly hard, dripping with precum. This close you can smell him, every little scent, mixed together, making your head swim. It's musky. Sweat, salt, cigar smoke, booze, leather, dust, and something you can't quite place.

"C'mon, little birdie…love on my cock, won't you?"

Tentatively, you lick a long stripe up the underside of it before placing a little kiss on the tip. He takes another swig of his booze, his eyes locked on yours. He lets out a shuddering breath when you suck the head into your mouth.

He rolls his hips up and shoves your head down, forcing himself down your throat, groaning in pleasure when you swallow around him. "Fuck.." The word trembles out of him. "Natural, aren't you? You do this for the rest of the crew?"

You quickly shake your head no, and he grins, chuckling softly. Holding you by the hair, he bucks his hips up again, fucking into your mouth. He sighs. "Don't make me do all the work."

Slowly, you bob your head up and down along him, sucking and lapping at him lightly. His head falls back against the chair. Uncontrolled, slurred moans and curses spilled from his lips. You pick up the pace, hands grabbing at his thighs, his moans getting louder.

His hips stutter up, and that is the only warning you get before your mouth is filled with his release. He leans forward, his fingers digging into your hair as he moans breathlessly, writhing a bit, nearly dropping the rum bottle. After a moment he slowly pulls you off but grabs your chin, shoving your mouth shut, forcing you to swallow. He smirks when you do.

"There. Thanks, bird."

His calloused fingers cup your cheek for just a moment, running his thumb over your bottom lip, swiping away the saliva and cum left there. After a minute, he rises from his chair, setting the bottle down, he stumbles over to his bed. "Well, come on, then. I won't wait all night."

You scramble to your feet and over to his bed. He reaches over and grabs you by the shirt, throwing you down on to the bed with a little thud. His was much more comfortable than your own. His fingers hook under the edge of the shirt and pull it upwards. "Cap'n-" You gasp out, but it was too late.

He stares down at the cloth tied tightly around your chest curiously, one of his eyebrows quirked up in question. You look up at him, wide eyed and fearful. He runs a hand across it, and when you don't wince in pain, his curiosity grows ever stronger.

You struggle to form an answer, just looking up at him. "What- why?-" Jacob says softly, confused. His fingers find one end of the fabric and he unwraps it, pulling it off of your body. You turn your head away, hiding your face as you tremble beneath him, horrified.

"Oh, bird…." He looks at you in awe as he realizes. His hands run across your chest, squeezing lightly. After a minute he speaks quietly. "..'M not gonna kick you off the ship. Well, with a deal. You stay open to me, let me have you whenever I please, and this stays our little secret, Al-right?"

You nod quickly. "Yes- yes- anything you want, Captain." You say quickly, still shaking with the shock of it all. His hands slip down your stomach to your pants, unbuttoning them and tugging them down and entirely off of you. He shoves your thighs open and dips his head down.

He groans at the sight of your soaked cunt. Without a thought to it, he pressed his face against you, inhaling deeply as his nose brushed against you, his tongue delving inside.

He almost whines at the taste of you. It makes you cry out, your back arching up off the bed. His nails dig into your hips, holding you down as he lapped at you like he was a starved man, and your cunt was his very favorite meal.

He continues this for a few minutes, bringing you right to the edge. And when he knows you are about to release, he stops, grinning as he watches you struggle in frustration.

He lifts his head up, and, Gods, was he a sight. His eyes hazy, his hair a mess, his lips, shaded pinker than usual from kissing and sucking at you, and the best, his entire chin, lips, some of his cheeks, and the tip of his nose glistened with your slick.

He gets up to kick off his own pants, and abandon his shirt. You drink in the sight of his naked form, the only thing left being his jewelry. Doubloons that dangled from his neck. Carefully crafted, and carefully stolen rings of silver adorning his hands, and the hoop earrings that you got a glimpse of every so often when he pushed his hair back.

He climbed back atop of you, kneeled between your thighs. He pushed your legs up, one of his hands gripping the back of one of your thighs, the other, wrapped around the base of his cock. He gave himself a few quick strokes before pulling you up by the hips and lining himself up, letting his tip graze against you.

With one push, he was buried completely inside of you. His head fell forward, giving a loud groan, almost a growl. He stilled for a moment so you both could adjust to the feeling, before beginning to slowly rock his hips, starting out in time with the ship. He was fucking you in time with the waves. What a man.

"Fuck, you really are a little bird. Singing so pretty for me…"

The mixture of both yours and his moans fill the small room. His fingers had a grip on your hips that you knew would leave a bruise by sunrise. He sped up his movements, grunting through gritted teeth.

You could feel yourself quickly getting close again, and, by the sloppiness of his movements, it seems Jacob was too. You scramble to hold on to him, nails digging into his shoulders. He snarls, pounding into you roughly. "Come on. Fuckin do it!" He growls out the words lowly.

And with that, you felt the coil deep in your stomach release, crying out as the waves of pleasure washed over and through you, making you tremble. He was close behind you, giving a final thrust before spilling inside of you, his mouth open, his head hanging back.

You both were panting as you came down from your highs. After a moment, he slowly pulled out, making you whine. He smirked as he watched his cum dripping out of your cunt. "What a mess." He sighed, but had no intention of cleaning it up.

He climbed out of bed, retrieving his booze, and tossing a scrap handkerchief at you, letting you wipe yourself off. After taking a long drink of rum, he flopped back down on the bed and threw one arm over you, cuddled up close.

"Thanks, birdie."

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