No-other-mashter - Ash_VanFleet

Thee kiddos

"Occupy My Mind So I Can't Speak"

Josh Kiszka x Male Reader

Warnings: M/M, degradation kink, spanking, oral (m rec), edging, denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, grinding, bondage, begging, sub Josh, bratty Josh, use of "slut" and "whore", choking (if you squint), cum eating

The stage lights shimmered as Josh strutted across the stage to the music, his energy infectious as he locked eyes with the crowd. His passion for the stage was undeniable; he belonged up there.

It all began innocently enough, with Josh's charismatic charm shining through as he interacted with the adoring fans. Blowing kisses and sharing hugs had always been a part of his act, a way to connect with the audience on a deeper level. But lately it had been different, a subtle shift in the air that hinted at something more.

The kisses were physical and seemed to linger, almost brushing the lips of the fans who reached out to him. Their cheers and screams fueled his daring behavior, emboldening him to push the boundaries further.

As he recognized a fan dressed in an outfit reminiscent of one of his own, a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of Josh's lips. "You're too cute," he playfully remarked. The fan's eyes widened in surprise, a blush dusting his cheeks at the unexpected attention.

"Are you single?" Josh then asked after a double take. He giggled to himself when the fans went wild and the next song began.

Despite the cheers and the pulsing music, Josh knew he was treading into dangerous territory with his playful antics. The thrill of the moment was intoxicating, though, and he paid no mind to any consequences he'd have later.

That was, until later came.

-------------------

Being the partner of a rockstar (and a particularly attractive one at that), you were used to Josh "flirting" with other people. It was part of the job, and something that didn't bother you much anymore.

However, sometimes Josh had a bit too much fun with his antics, and toed the line between "charming frontman" and "desperate whore". It was like a game to him, to see just how far he could go before you inevitably decided enough was enough and put him in his place.

And with how he'd been acting lately, you figured there was no better time to do so then now...

------------

"Aw, what's the matter Josh? Can't handle a little bit of suspense? Or... is it foreplay?" You teased, running your fingers down his exposed chest. He bit back a moan, his hips twitching with need.

You had tied his wrists to the headboard, keeping them above his head where he couldn't touch you, or himself. One of his silk scarves was being used as a blindfold, preventing him from knowing what you'd do next.

"C'mon, Y/N, just touch me already," Josh groaned, clearly annoyed with the teasing.

You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over his exposed skin and sending a shiver down his spine. Your fingers trailed lightly along his jawline, down his neck, eliciting a low growl from deep within his chest.

"Patience, Josh," you purred.

With deliberate slowness, your touch roamed lower, tracing the contours of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

His body arched instinctively towards your touch, a silent plea for more, for the release of the tension that coiled tightly within him. But you were in control now, and Josh could one get what you gave him.

'Y'know, you've sure been running your mouth a lot lately, Joshua..." You began, dragging your fingertips closer to where he was already leaking onto his tummy, "Flirting with all those people, kissing them, showing yourself off to them... as if I'm not enough for you."

Josh opened his mouth, probably to object, but you shut him up by wrapping a hand around his cock, pulling a moan from him instead.

"Are you a slut, Joshua? I bet you think about what it'd be like to have all of their hands on you, don't you?" Each question was punctuated with a stroke of your hand, just enough to build tension, but not enough to help him reach that tipping point.

"Ah!- No, I just- Mm! I just like the attention!" He gasped out, writhing and clearly aching for more.

"So you're just an attention whore? So desperate for their eyes on you that you'll do anything... You know what that kind of attitude gets you, don't you?" You ask, letting go of his throbbing cock. The warmth of your touch replaced by the chill of the room as you reached up to free him from the headboard, leaving his wrists still bound together.

Just when you thought Josh would give in and listen, that cocky attitude returned, "No, I don't think I know..."

You sighed; it was clear that Josh still wanted to play this game.

"Turn over."

"Make me," Josh's response was petulant, stubborn, a clear indication that he was still willing to test the boundaries you had set.

Oh. So he REALLY wanted to push you.

"Fine then, if that's how you wanna be..."

You wrestled him onto his front, leaving his ass up in the air and his face buried in the pillow.

"You're getting seven swats. I better hear you count each one, or else I'll re-start. Got it?" You say, watching closely as he shuffles into a better position and nods.

The first smack always builds up anticipation. It's unexpected, and he has no idea how hard you were gonna make it. To his credit, he stayed quiet during the first three, only letting shaky numbers cross his lips.

On four, you brought your hand down on his other cheek, surprising him. He whined, arching into the touch.

"F-fuck! Four!"

"Good boy..."

Five and six were fast, one right after the other. You stroked the reddening skin for a moment, soothing it just a bit before bringing your hand down on his ass harder than before.

It was no secret that Josh was loud in bed. Hell, he's posted about it publicly before, no shame to be found. So when he moaned loud enough that you were sure the neighbors probably heard, you weren't surprised.

"Aaah! F-fuck!"

What did surprise you, was his apparent death wish.

"Are you d-done?"

Before Josh could say anything else, he was being manhandled and brought to his knees in front of you beside the bed. He squinted at the sudden change in light as you removed the blindfold, honey brown eyes meeting your own after a moment.

"I think I know a much better use for your mouth instead of talking back to me like a brat," you murmured, your voice low and commanding as you unbuttoned your jeans and pushed them off your hips, along with your boxers.

Without breaking eye contact, you threaded your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly as a warning when he pulled back with a smirk. You guided his head forward, pausing only for a moment.

"If you need to pull away, tap three times, okay?" Your voice was softer now, breaking from the scene to check on him.

"Yeah, I know."

Having confirmed he was still all for this, you gave it to him just how he wanted it, making him gag as you fucked his throat.

Normally, you were careful when Josh sucked you off, not wanting to injure his throat or mess up his singing voice. This time, though, he had a month before the next show, plenty of time to get his voice back. So you went all out. Spit ran down his chin, and when he wasn't gasping and gagging, he was moaning, eyes rolling back when you'd go particularly deep.

Josh Kiszka was beautiful up on stage, there was no denying that. He was in his element in front of a crowd of cheering fans, dressed to the nines in glitz and glamor. But he was also beautiful like this, on his knees, hair a mess and teary eyed as he swallowed you down.

You felt three taps on your ankle, and you let go, watching as he pulled back and gasped in air. His voice was wrecked when he spoke, low and raspy where it usually wasn't.

"Please..." He mumbled, clearly aching to cum.

"Aw, you feeling needy, baby?" You ask, pulling him back up to the bed. You kiss his knees, red from kneeling, before trailing your kisses up his thigh to where he needed you most, "No touching, okay?"

He kept his bound hands above his head as you finally wrapped your lips around his aching length, grinning when he gasped and did his best to not thrust his hips up. As you hummed around him, savoring the taste of his skin, you could feel his impending release hovering on the edge. You traced a path down his throbbing length, teasing a vein along the side of his cock. The sensation was like a jolt of electricity, and, in a moment of weakness, Josh's fingers tangled in your hair.

But you were in control, not him. As soon as he sought to anchor you in place, you pulled away, a smirk playing on your lips as you watched his reaction. Josh's body jerked in response, frustration clear on his face as he was edged once again.

"Tsk-tsk, I said no touching, Josh. You haven't been a good enough boy to earn that yet."

"Just let me fucking cum, Y/N!" He groaned, still whining like a brat.

"You really want that? You think you deserve it?" You ask, an idea popping into your head, "Fine then. Cum whenever you want."

Josh was clearly not expecting the sudden shift, but it didn't matter when you spat into your palm and began jerking him off once more. Having been denied so many times already, the sensation was almost too much to bear.

"C-close! I'm so close!" His voice was strained, a plea laced with desperation. He half-expected you to pull away again, but this time, there was no teasing retreat, no denial of his release. Instead, you maintained the steady rhythm of your hand, driving him relentlessly towards that long-awaited peak.

Josh's head fell back, and his chest heaved with each hitched breath, the flush of arousal spreading across his skin like a wildfire. His hands clenched into fists above his head, fingers flexing with the need to touch, to grasp onto something—anything—to ground himself.

"Fuck! Y/N!"

Josh spilled all over your hand and his tummy, his whole body trembling after being denied so many times. When you kept going after he was spent, Josh realized what you had meant.

"I- I can't go again..." He whined, the pleasure turning into overstimulation.

"Color?"

"Green."

"I think you've got one more in you, Josh..." You reply, pressing a kiss to his lips before climbing into his lap. He had just a moment of respite before you were rutting your cock against his, the sensation pushing you slowly closer to your own peak.

Every nerve in his body was alight, every sense heightened to the point of exquisite torture.Tears ran down his cheeks but his expression was one of pleasure, a silent plea for more, for everything you could give him.

"Y/N, don't stop! I'm so close again! I- I'm gonna cum again!" He babbled, his words melding into a mix of your name and please.

"Cum for me, Josh," you order, watching as he arches his back and lets go, his eyes rolling back into his head. The sight pushes you over the edge as well, your release mixing with his.

You both sat back to catch your breath, drenched in sweat and various other fluids. Josh was limp under you, completely worn out. You took two fingers, dragging them through the mess on his tummy before bringing them up to his lips.

"Open."

He obeyed, opening his mouth. You pressed your fingers into his mouth, grinning when he obediently sucked them clean.

"Good boy, Josh..."

He whines against your fingers, his cock giving one last valiant twitch where it lay soft against him. Once your fingers were clean, you untied his hands, kissing the red marks left on his wrists. You trailed the kisses up to his lips, pulling the covers over you both.

You'd finish cleaning up later. For now, you just wanted to take a nap with your favorite person...

Baby, what’s your blood type?

You heard it here folks

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)."

Nice Guys Throw Punches - SFK/DRW

Well, here’s the fluffiest, most protective!Danny that’s been stuck in my brain for days. Big thanks to @ofthecaravel for freaking out with me eeeeee here we go.

READ ON AO3

-

Wanted: Have You Seen This Man? He’s actually just a really nice guy.

That’s what Danny’s poster had said. And he is. He is a nice guy, has on more than one occasion been called a gentle giant (mostly by Josh), fills his role as band mediator with ease, and has always been a lover, not a fighter.

But, he supposes, exceptions are always made. Which is what got him to where he is now, sitting on the bumper of an ambulance next to the festival beer garden with a broken nose and split knuckles.

He swears he’s a nice guy.

One Hour Earlier

It’s not surprising that Lollapalooza is packed to the gills with drunk and high festival goers. It’s the nature of a festival to be a sprawling bacchanalian free for all, really. That’s why the Kiszka brothers thrive at festivals and why Danny always feels like he’s herding kittens trying to keep all three of them alive.

“Thanks,” Danny says, nodding to the bartender in the beer garden before wading his way back through the throngs of people, holding the two bottles of beer a little higher to avoid being jostled by someone telling an overenthusiastic story.

They’d played earlier in the day, a riotous set that went off without a hitch and left them all in a post-show euphoria that was only briefly interrupted by showers and changing clothes before continuing on now.

“Beer delivery,” Danny chirps, sidling up behind Sam and moving his boyfriend’s chestnut hair to one side of his neck. Sam is mid conversation with Jake and Josh, the three of them talking completely over each other. Danny presses the cold beer to the sensitive skin of Sam’s neck, grinning.

Sam squawks loudly, immediately turning and swatting at him.

“Asshole,” he half shouts, trying in vain to pinch at Danny’s sides while the taller man evades his efforts. “That’s no way to treat the love of your life.”

Danny hastily apologises to the group of girls he bumps into trying to avoid Sam’s punishment, looping an arm around Sam’s waist and tugging him close, a beer still in each hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says, still grinning.

Sam makes a grab for Danny’s backwards hat, missing when Danny makes a bite at his arm. “You are not, you unrepentant frat boy -”

“Am too, and if I’m a frat boy that makes you -”

“Alright alright,” Josh says, clapping his hands. “Enough, children. Daniel, give the baby his beer before he gets cranky.”

Danny laughs, not letting Sam go but handing him the beer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I hate you,” Sam says, leaning into him.

Danny grins. “I know, baby. Drink your beer.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Jake rolls his eyes. He takes a pull of his own beer, shaking his head fondly.

It’s been over a year now since Sam and Danny had made it official - it being them, of course, and their decision to finally end everyone’s collective ‘will they, won’t they’ misery. Happy tears were shed by parents, hollers and hugs were given by siblings. But Sam had been deeply offended when literally no one was surprised by their announcement of a relationship, and had pinched Danny’s nipple right through his shirt as revenge when the taller man had shrugged and said ‘that’s fair, it was a long time coming’.

“It’s really packed in here,” Josh says, looking around them. More people are flooding into the beer garden, musicians and festival goers alike, and it’s making personal space significantly harder to come by.

They’ve melded with a group of other players, conversation flowing easily and laughter loud. Danny is regretting his choice of a white t-shirt, knowing that the chances of a spill are getting higher by the second but it’s worth it to watch Sam’s face light up as he tells a story.

As if on cue, Sam gestures broadly with his hand and accidentally catches the drink of a passerby, knocking it against their chest.

“Oh shit,” Sam says, turning. “Sorry man -”

The man hisses angrily as he peels his wet shirt away from his chest. He’s about Danny’s height but twice as broad, bald headed and skin going pink with anger. Danny frowns, not liking the way the man’s mood has shifted so quickly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” he spits, throwing his now empty cup onto the ground and shaking the spilled beer off his hand. “Fucking - my shirt is ruined .”

The unexpected anger draws the attention of the twins and the rest of the group, eyes widening in surprise at the outburst.

Sam winces, obviously feeling bad. “It was an accident, man, I’ll buy you another drink -”

“Shut the fuck up,” the man snaps, finally looking up from his shirt to fix his angry stare at Sam.

“Listen, he said he was sorry,” Danny interjects, brow furrowed as he steps between Sam and the man, hands up between them. He wants to keep the peace, to get this asshole on his way as fast as possible, but something isn’t sitting right. His heart is beating faster now, the tension palpable. “It was an accident, it happens. We can find you another shirt.”

The man snorts, looking Sam up and down before turning to fix his gaze on Danny.

“You know, I saw you two earlier,” he says, sneering. “Looking awfully cozy. Maybe if you knew how to control your bitch this wouldn’t have happened.”

“What the fuck,” Jake says, automatically stepping closer to Sam. Josh circles a hand instinctively around Sam’s wrist, anchoring him to the spot.

“Hey, fuck you man -” Sam starts, brows dropping in anger as he moves to step forward only to be impeded by Josh.

“See?” the man laughs, the sound grating and mean. He pokes a finger into Danny’s chest. “Maybe I should take him off your hands, teach him some fucking manners -”

Danny isn’t sure when he drops his beer, but somewhere between the bottle leaving his hand and it hitting the ground, he makes a choice.

No one talks about Sam that way, not while Daniel fucking Wagner walks the earth.

He reels back and throws a hard punch, fist connecting solidly with the man’s face in a loud thud. The garden immediately erupts into chaos, people stumbling backwards from the fight to get away from the crossfire. Josh yanks Sam back as the man retaliates, grappling Danny to the ground as they both throw hit after hit.

A few others jump in to try to break it up, but it’s violent.

What feels like an hour is only a minute, maybe two before security is rushing in and pulling the two men apart. There’s blood in the dirt and Danny has never been so angry in his life.

“Let me go,” Danny demands, struggling against the hold of two security guards. The other man is yelling obscenities and slurs while being forcefully escorted from the tent, and Danny takes some satisfaction from the split lip he’s sporting. “I’m - Jesus, I’m not going to go after him, let me go.”

“I’ll get the medics,” one of them says, speaking quickly into the radio on his chest before striding out of the tent. The security guard lets Danny go, telling him not to go anywhere until the medic arrives.

The entire garden is a mess of activity and chatter, the energy thrumming with nerves and surprise. Danny’s ears are ringing and his heart is pounding out of his chest. The adrenaline is still thrumming at a million miles an hour through his veins, and he barely registers he’s being spoken to until there are gentle hands on either side of his face.

“Daniel,” Sam is saying, sweet face creased with worry. “Hey, look at me.”

“Medic is over here, come on,” Jake is saying, hand gentle on Danny’s upper arm. Josh is shooing people out of the way, already explaining everything that happened to the paramedic.

“Hey man,” says the medic, getting Danny’s attention. “My name is Noah. Looks like you got into a bit of a scrap, hey?”

Danny shakes his head, but immediately winces as pain shoots through his face.

“I’m fine,” he croaks, but the words come out a little slurred. Suddenly Danny is very aware of the blood in his mouth.

“Here, let’s sit him down,” Noah says, helping Jake seat Danny on the bumper of the ambulance, the back doors wide and a medical bag opened.

Sam is pacing back and forth, continually running his hands through his hair. Josh is off to the side, on the phone with management already while Jake confers with security again.

Noah makes Danny follow a pen with his eyes, checks his pulse, and listens to his heart. He carefully tips Danny’s head back, helping him hold an ice pack over his nose.

“Well I can tell you one thing,” he says good naturedly. “It’s a good thing you guys already played your set, because you’re going to be hurting once that adrenaline wears off.”

“Already there,” Danny says, the words coming out like he’s got the world's worst cold. Everything fucking hurts now. His knuckles are aching and his head feels like one giant bruise.

“Yeah,” Noah sighs sympathetically, jotting something down on his clipboard before pulling out a few butterfly bandages from his bag. “A broken nose is no fun. But it’s not crooked, so that’s a small victory.”

That seems to stir Sam from his pacing, nearly skidding to a stop in front of Danny.

“What the hell were you thinking, Daniel?!” he bursts, every inch of him seeming to vibrate with anxiety. “You’ve never made a fist in your fucking life and you decide that testing it out on a man twice your size is the way to go?”

Noah bites his lips together, giving Danny a ‘you’re in trouuuuuble’ look as he pulls the ice pack away gently.

“We were the same height,” Danny protests weakly, wincing as Noah carefully places a butterfly bandage over the split skin on the bridge of his nose.

“No, shut up,” Sam says, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Just - why, Daniel?”

Danny frowns, confused by the question.

“What do you mean, why?” he asks, dutifully holding still as Noah continues to work on cleaning him up.

Sam rolls his eyes, but he looks dangerously close to tears. Danny’s heart aches in his chest, and he wants to pull his boyfriend closer.

“I mean why,” Sam repeats. “Why did you start a fight?”

“He started it,” Danny protests, wincing as Noah cleans his knuckles. “I wasn’t just going to stand there and let him talk about you like that, Sam. I didn’t even - I didn’t even think about it, alright? I just did it.”

Sam seems to deflate a little at that, jaw working stubbornly.

“Well it was fucking stupid,” he says, scuffing at an errant pebble with the toe of his sneaker. “Now you look like a sad raccoon with your -” he gestures to Danny’s face. “Black eyes and shit.”

“Cute look,” Danny says, not bothering to fight the fierce wave of fondness welling inside of him for his boyfriend. Only Sam would manage to express fear and concern as a truly bizarre insult. “What a weird way to kick a guy while he’s down. How about a ‘thanks for sticking up for me, Danny’ or an ‘I love you, Danny’?”

“I love you Danny,” Josh says, pocketing his phone as he comes to join them. He swings an arm around Sam, pulling him in for a tight hug despite the younger man fighting it. “This little rat bastard of a child is just trying to pretend he’s not scared shitless because his boy got hurt, isn’t that right Sam?”

“I am not scared,” Sam says, shoving Josh away. Jake rolls his eyes, moving to sit next to Danny on the bumper of the ambulance. “I’m pissed off, he could’ve - he could have died! And then we’d have to get a new drummer, okay, and that’s just a pain in the ass -”

Noah gives Danny the all clear, and he stands. He has no doubt he looks like shit, shirt stained with blood, eyes blooming black and blue, knuckles and nose bandaged.

“Sammy,” Danny interrupts him gently. “C’mere.”

“No,” Sam snaps, crossing his arms and resolutely looking at the ground. “You’re gross. You’re all bloody.”

“Sam,” Danny repeats. He opens his arms, waiting patiently.

Sam doesn’t last another five seconds before he’s throwing himself into Danny’s arms, hiding his face in Danny’s neck.

“Why would you do that?” he whispers, and Danny can feel the tremble in Sam’s willowy frame. “You - you got hurt, Daniel, okay? Why -”

“Because I love you,” Danny murmurs, pressing his lips carefully to the top of Sam’s head. “And I figured one of us was about to throw a punch, so better me than you. That face of yours is our moneymaker.”

Sam laughs wetly, sniffling a little against Danny’s neck. He pulls back, wiping roughly at his eyes.

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s smiling now. Danny smiles back, even though it hurts.

“Alright, cut it out,” Josh says, voice suspiciously choked. “If you start crying, Jake’s going to cry.”

“Yeah right,” Jake says, but his sunglasses have been firmly placed over his eyes. He turns to Noah, clearing his throat. “What’s the verdict? Hospital?”

“If you want to, but you don’t have to,” Noah says, zipping up his med bag. He strips off his gloves, giving them all an easy smile. “It’s not a bad break and nothing is crooked. So as long as you keep icing it and go easy, you shouldn’t have an issue. Obviously, if you start bleeding again or notice any changes in your vision or headaches, go right away.”

“Roger that,” Josh nods, reaching out a hand to Noah to shake. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem, guys,” Noah says, shaking each of their hands (Danny’s very gently). “A great set, by the way. Now get out of here, go rest.”

“You heard the man,” Jake says, standing and gesturing for them to get a move on. “Let’s go.”

-

The ride back to the hotel is longer than expected with a stop at a pharmacy for some painkillers and ice packs, but they’re back and getting settled as the sun is sinking below the horizon. Showers are had, painkillers taken, and room service on the way.

Sam is fussing with the pillows on the bed - trying to get them to an appropriate height for Danny to be propped up while he sleeps - when there’s a knock at their door. Danny goes to answer, waving Sam off with a gentle reminder that he can handle opening a door with a broken nose.

It’s Jake and Josh, unsurprisingly, the two of them standing in the doorway expectantly.

Danny opens the door a little wider with a huffed laugh, welcoming them in.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay,” Jake says, peering around the corner at Sam with an amused smile. “See if you need anything.”

“We’re good,” Danny says gratefully. “Thanks though. How much trouble did I get us into with management?”

Josh waves him off, blowing a raspberry. “Nothing for you to worry about, Danny boy. We told them of your heroic act in defence of Sam, it’s all fine.”

Danny lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, relieved.

“Thanks man,” he says. “Really appreciate it. I didn’t mean to make such a mess of things.”

Jake pins him with a gentle look. “You didn’t make a mess of things,” he says, voice a little softer like he doesn’t want Sam to overhear. “You went to battle for our baby brother. He’s lucky to have you, Danny. We couldn’t ask for a better man for him, I hope you know that.”

Danny feels like he’s been winded, the words so achingly sincere yet so simple in a way that only Jake ever manages to pull off. He blinks a few times in quick succession, surprised by the sudden burn of tears.

“I’d do anything for him,” he says simply, voice wobbling because there’s nothing else to say. It’s Danny’s foundational truth. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Sam.

“We know,” Josh says, smiling and squeezing Danny’s arm. He clears his throat, looking around the corner at Sam. “Good thing, too,” he says, louder. “We were worried no one would take him off our hands, you know. He’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Huge,” Jake agrees, nodding seriously. “We really can’t thank you enough for your sacrifice. We thought we’d be stuck with him forever.”

“Oh my god, can you two leave,” Sam shouts, brandishing a pillow like he’s going to march over and hit them. “I have to tend to my injured boyfriend, go be annoying somewhere else!”

Jake lifts his hands in surrender, smirking as he backs away towards the door.

“Be good, kiddos,” Josh chirps with a wink. “No strenuous activity!”

Danny laughs, shaking his head as he bids them both goodnight, locking the door behind them. He pads back into the bedroom, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, reaching out for Sam. He pulls him to stand between his knees, looking up at him. He rests his hands on Sam’s hips, thumbs brushing the soft skin just under his threadbare shirt. “I’m sorry I scared you today.”

Sam swallows, lifting a hand to tug at one of Danny’s damp curls.

“Yeah, well,” he says softly, smiling a little. “It was also pretty sexy of you to defend my honour like that.”

Danny smiles, squeezing Sam’s hips. “Yeah?”

Sam snorts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. You barely made it out alive.”

Danny barks a laugh. He slaps Sam’s ass teasingly, pulling him closer and tugging him down into his lap.

“Screw you, I was winning,” he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Sam’s ear as the smaller man settles in his lap.

“Oh, is it opposite day?”

“If it is then I really hate you,” Danny quips, smiling up at him.

Sam rolls his eyes, hands so careful when they cup Danny’s face. He leans in and kisses him gently.

“I hate you too, Daniel Wagner.”

Sub!Josh my Beloved, goddamn

🥳Han’s Midnight

Thoughts🥳

This is quite literally a filthy sub!Josh fic idea that I cannot make into an entire fic bc I have 2 Josh fics in the swamp as we speak. SUPER SMUT IMMEDIATELY BELOW THE CUT; MINORS DNI.

Okay but what if Josh made this face when you made him cum?

What if you started out sucking his cock while he ate your pussy at the same time?

What if you started off slow, just softly gliding your tongue from the very tip of his head all the way down to the start of his balls and back again? What if you went so slowly it was torturous? What then?

What if after doing this a few times, you felt him twitch against your tongue while he moaned into your heat? What if you got so turned on at the sounds he made that you took his whole length in your throat and swallowed it?

What if you did that a second time?

A third?

What if every single time your throat closed around him, he whimpered, never letting your pussy leave his mouth?

What if you involuntarily clenched your walls around his tongue every time you swallowed him? What if he responded by pulling you further into his mouth? What if you started taking him faster?

What if he broke the suction he’d created on your clit to moan louder than he had been? What if he whined as you took him faster and faster down your throat? What if he cinched his brows and said, “Ohhhh god, mama. Please.” What then?

What if you increased your pace still? What if he tried to keep eating your pussy but couldn’t because his breath kept getting stuck in his throat? What if all he could manage was a stray lick or two at a time before he gasped again?

What if he got so close to cumming down your throat that when you felt him squeeze your ass that rested in his face, you felt his hands trembling?

What if the second that he was on the tip of his cusp, you stopped? What if you swung your legs to one side of him and turned yourself around to face him? What if you let his cock slip from between your lips and watched it throb against his stomach while you sat at his feet?

What if you watched his eyes grow wide as he realized what was happening? What if his mouth sat agape as he gazed at you?

What if the shocked look in his eyes turned immediately into pleading?

Begging?

What if he was willing to do absolutely anything you wanted if you’d just finish him?

What if he told you that? What if he begged for you?

What if between heavy breaths he begged you to ride him? What if he told you that he needed to be inside of you? What if he told you that all he wanted was to cum inside your perfect pussy?

What if the second that you had taken half his length, his hips bucked up into yours hard enough for his balls to make contact with your ass because he couldn’t wait any longer? What if as soon as he bottomed out, a beautiful, thick cry pushed itself up from his chest and out past his perfectly wet lips?

What if as you continually bounced harder and faster on his cock, he continued to meet your hips in the middle, slamming himself up into your core the smallest bit further? What if his hands conformed to the shape of your hips, sternly holding you in place? What if he let out a sharp exhale each time your skin met, leaving him to inhale ragged breaths in between?

What if as you pressed on, you watched his mouth change from hanging slack to having his teeth clenched and his brows scrunched as tight as they would go? What if you felt his legs start to shake under you as you sank down on his cock again and again?

What if you felt his hips stutter as hot sweat beaded on his forehead? What if his grip on your hips grew impossibly tighter? What if he cried out through clenched teeth as he released into the depths of your core, an absolutely seething expression on his face? What if every muscle in his body stayed tightened until you’d ridden him through the longest orgasm you’d given him to date?

What if?

What then?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @sunandthemoontwinflames

GET. AI. OUT. OF. FANDOM. Stop making headcanons with it, stop making fanfic with it, stop making fanart with it. If I see one more "asking chatgpt *blank* about *character/characters in a fandom* I'm going to lose my goddamn mind. Use your own fucking brain, stop asking AI to do everything. You could even ask other real people what they think. Just. Stop. Using. AI. In. Creative. Spaces.

Look at himmmmm

Last week’s sketch page. Thought it was time Jake got some love.

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