Jake Kiszka X Reader

Daddy’s Little Musician

Despite the morning sickness, the headaches, the constant pain in your back, and the almost non-existence of sleep - the past few months had been nothing short of perfection. 

You had never met anyone who was as caring as him, somebody who was willing to go above and beyond for you, regardless of the time of day or night.

You had found that person in Jake.

As soon as you had told him the news, it was as if a new window had opened into his soul, and the light that shone from within was indescribable. It was as if he could think of nothing other than the child that you were about to bring into this world - having already made countless plans for the future. 

He had always said that he didn’t mind too much about the gender - that as long as the baby was healthy, he was happy. But the second that he heard that you were having a girl, his face lit up.

You were grateful that they were on a break between tours - glad to be able to have Jake at home full-time. The boys had agreed to have any meetings close to home, on the off-chance that you would need something. You had never seen Sam so excited in your life when he was told - you could have sworn that he would start bouncing off of the walls. 

Of course, Josh was the first one that Jake had told - you had never witnessed a bond as close as the two of those had, nothing could happen in either one of their lives without the other knowing about it. He had been so sweet when he learned, sending countless bouquets of flowers and cards - making sure that you knew that he would get you whatever you needed, that he was always there if you needed somebody to talk to, even offering to take you to yoga as the pregnancy progressed.

Danny was easily the most practical of the bunch - having already made you lists upon lists of things that he thought you might need, finding videos to share with you, and asking every mother in his life what tips they could give you. 

Each and every one of them had been beyond helpful, day in and day out. But none of them could match Jake. 

Each night, he would sit with you on the couch, bringing his acoustic with him. He would speak to the bump ever so softly, his voice as smooth as honey. 

“Hey baby, I’m your Daddy - I can’t wait to meet you, I love you so, so much already. Your uncles are waiting for you, I think even Rosie knows that somethings going on.”

He would make sure to sing each evening, doing his utmost to make sure that the baby knew what his voice would sound like when the time came - “She’s growing in you, of course she’s going to recognise you! I’m going to be a stranger, and I don’t want her to be scared!” You couldn’t help but to giggle at him, knowing that she would recognise her father immediately.

He had already completely decorated the nursery - spending over a week just picking out the colours, and the furniture. He wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

You’d never forget the morning that you walked in on him while he was finishing up the painting, his sleeves rolled up to prevent any splatters from covering his clothes. Of course, he was on the phone with his brother - the two of them whispering just in case they would wake you up. 

“I don’t think I can wait any longer - I just want to be able to hold her now” he explained, before sitting the camera up to face him. He turned, pulling a small hanger from the closet, and showing it off. It was a light pink shirt with the phrase “Daddy’s little musician” written across the front. His smile was contagious, as you made your way towards him, your hand rested gently on your stomach. 

He turned as he heard you enter, his face full of panic, quickly hiding the hanger behind his back. “I’m so, so sorry - I didn’t mean to wake you, he rang me!!” He quickly explained, being met with a “Hey!!” On the other end. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle, before shaking your head, replying that he hadn’t woken you up, and that all was okay. His face softened as you did so, before he hid the shirt back in the closet, embracing you quietly. You knew he was excited, and he had always been one of the most impatient people you had ever met. 

He would ask each night if you needed anything, always willing to run to the store to fulfill your cravings. As you declined, he would finally climb into the bed beside you, pulling his hair up to keep it out of his face. 

“I learned how to braid today” he whispered, as the two of you lay together, the moon peeking through the curtains. 

You hummed softly in reply, a tone of questioning in your voice. “Learned to braid?” You asked.

He nodded, before laying a hand over your stomach, running his thumb over your skin ever so softly. 

“I want to be able to tie up her hair” he spoke again, a soft smile finding its way onto his face. “It shouldn’t just be your job, I can do it.”

Once again, you smiled at him, leaning to plant a soft kiss onto his forehead. You couldn’t believe how thoughtful he had been throughout this whole process, not once becoming frustrated at your pains, at your mood swings, at your sudden need for the bathroom. He had held your hand through the entire thing, with the softest smile possible on his face.

It was then that the day came. 

You had been simply going about your day, making your way up the stairs for a nap when you suddenly felt a wetness between your legs. Panic took over for a moment, before you realised that it was time. 

Luckily, he was home, having being prepared for this day for the past nine months.

You called for him quickly, and he immediately sprang into action, tossing your bags into the car, and leading you out to it. 

Through the whole car ride, he was reassuring you, keeping your hand held in his, and reminding you to breathe, mimicking the advice that Dannny had previously given him. 

You were rushed into a room to be checked out and prepared, while he sat outside, no doubt making a call to his brothers. You knew that it would be a long process, and that he would return to the room as soon as he was allowed to. 

The day quickly turned to evening, and then night - with him stood by your side, his fingers wrapped around your own, allowing you to squeeze as hard as you needed to, not complaining even once. 

Josh found himself sleeping in the waiting room, sprawled out across three chairs, the excitement of the day finally getting to him. 

Sam and Danny were much more restless - pacing the room with both worry and excitement as the hours ticked by. 

Finally, the time came, and your daughter was here. Despite the years that you had been together, not once had you seen him cry, not once had a single tear fallen from his eyes from sadness, or happiness, or frustration. 

But right here, and right now, he cried. Once he began, he couldn’t seem to stop, being handed his daughter at long last. He turned to you, placing the softest possible kiss upon your forehead, pulling your hair from your eyes, and showing you the life that you had brought into the world.

Finally, he was a father. 

You nodded towards the door, signalling for him to take the baby to his brothers, knowing that they would probably die of anticipation if he didn’t. He almost sprinted out of the room, holding his little girl so gingerly. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you heard the cheers, before a quick shushing from Jake, already mindful of the importance of not waking the baby, 

Already, you knew that he was going to be the most amazing father, just as he was the most amazing husband.

worlds slowest fanfic author tries really really hard

Object of Desire.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

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A/N: I really couldn't stop thinking about this scenario, and I had to write it down.

Word count: 2.7K

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, dirty talk, swearing, angst, angry!Jake.

Summary: Jake is having a hard time making certain things work.

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A crash followed by a loud curse echoed from the inside of the studio.

It was very late and the few people still lingering around took that as a sign that it was way better to leave before hell broke loose.

The door of the first recording room opened and Daniel was the first one to exit, swiftly followed by Sam. The two of them basically ran out of the door looking worried and exhausted while more shouting came from the inside. Two voices were overlapping and growing in volume every second more.

The door was almost closing when it bursted open violently, hitting the wall like someone had kicked it hard.

“Well, I might be an obnoxious diva but you really need to learn how to play that fucking guitar again Jakey, you are slowing us down. So you better pull it together and control it because you are sounding like shit.” Josh came out of the room with his hands flailing, still facing inside and shouting to his brother on top of his lungs.

Then he grasped the door and slammed it shut before the half empty bottle of wine that Jake threw towards him could hit him straight in the face.

A loud “fuck off” echoed from the room at the same time that the bottle shattered with a booming crash against the wood of the door, sending shards and drops of wine everywhere.

Then, after that, the building fell completely silent.

Inside the recording room Jake was fuming with anger.

His ears were ringing and his chest was heaving. He was very hot and his already unbuttoned shirt was sticking to his skin uncomfortably, making him feel trapped and intensifying his anger.

He immediately took it off and threw it across the floor, exhausted.

It landed in a corner right next to the guitar, his beloved, that he had thrown to the floor a few minutes before everyone ran away and Josh accused him of not knowing how to play it anymore.

A renewed fit of anger filled his heart and he quickly crossed the room.

He harshly grabbed his beloved guitar from the floor and slammed it down on the table with so much force that the sound it made had a shiver run down his spine.

That bitch had been giving him troubles all day. It just wouldn't let him play it properly and he didn't know what the hell was wrong with it. The only thing he knew was that he needed to find that out as soon as possible.

He grabbed it by the fretboard and slung the strap over his shoulder. Then he plugged it into his amp and started playing a song he had played an indecent amount of times and that he knew like the back of his hands.

A few seconds later he was huffing out a curse under his breath. Something was wrong.

The notes sounded weird, in an almost sinister way and he didnt know why.

Frustration was slowly getting the better of him, so he sat down on the sofa with the guitar still on his lap and opened the bottle of Pinot Grigio that someone had placed right next to the sofa at the beginning of their useless recording session.

He uncorked the bottle and took a few long gulps right from it, without even bothering to go grab a glass.

Then he closed his eyes and rested his pounding head against the back of the couch for a few minutes, hoping that the wine would clear his mind and ease his nerves a bit.

With a renewed glimmer of hope, he tuned the instrument again, even though he knew that that wasn't the problem and this time he tried to improvise something.

An hour later, the bottle of wine was empty but Jake was still drowning in despair and anger. He kept trying to come up with a decent new riff but he produced nothing that sounded even remotedly like it used to when his fingers stroked the frets of his beloved.

It had been love at first sight between that little horned cherry-red devil and his twelve-year-old self. Inside that shop so many years ago with the first note he played he knew that she was the one.

But right now he was not so sure anymore.

The umpteenth wrong note echoed into the room, despite the guitar was perfectly tuned and that sent Jake spiraling.

A violent fit of anger coursed through his body.

He stood, ripped the guitar from his sweaty body and slammed it on the same table as before. Another hideous sound left the instrument from the violent impact and Jake lost it completely.

With a scream, he ripped all the strings from the guitar so hard that he even sliced his middle finger open with one of them.

Blood slowly started to drip out of the cut and onto the wood, creating a grim contrast with the red of the instrument but Jake didn't even notice at first. He was blinded by anger in a way that he didn't remember to have ever experienced before.

Without thinking he grabbed the neck of his guitar, bent over it and started whispering.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, hm? Why are you being such a bitch tonight? Are you fucking jealous because I played other guitars all day long?” He hissed like he was referring to an actual person, his lips grazing the wood and metal of the fretboard in a snare.

He knew he sounded completely out of his mind and that the entire scene might have granted him a one way ticket to a psychiatric ward but he had reached the point of no return.

At that moment a single crackle sound came from his amp and Jake froze in place.

A strange feeling crept up his spine making him shiver.

And then the thought that invaded his brain made him feel utterly helpless and crazy.

‘That sounded like an answer’ he thought but then shook his head because he refused to believe that.

It was true. That morning one of his closest friends brought to the studio many guitars, one more rare and prestigious than the other and he had a lot of fun playing a lot of them for a few takes. He did that because he wanted to spice things up a little bit and render his playing a bit more dynamic with the new album.

That evening however, since he was tired from playing that many different guitars, he needed to fall back on the one which he knew even better than his very soul.

But somehow he couldn't make it work this time.

He felt so stupid for even thinking that his beloved guitar, an inanimate object, could be sentient and could give him a hard time because of that.

He straightened his back and mustered up the courage to ask the same question again, but this time nothing happened. His voice just echoed into the empty room in a peculiar way.

“I’m wasted” he scoffed at himself and laughed out loud. He started pitying himself, and moved away from the table to go get some fresh air outside, hoping that it could help him clear his mind.

He reached for the door but, as soon as he placed his sweaty hot hand against the cool metal of the knob, another noise echoed from the single cabinet on the other side of the room.

At first he thought it was the usual creaking of old wooden furniture but then he heard it again and this time it sounded more like something metallic hitting wood.

He slowly turned around but everything was in perfect order.

He was just thinking about the fact that the wine had fucked him up pretty good when he heard it again, louder this time.

It was coming from the bottom drawer of the cabinet where he usually kept his new guitar strings just in case one broke during the recording.

His heart was hammering in his chest and his head was spinning a little, but he decided to investigate further anyway.

He slowly approached the cabinet and crouched down. He reached for the knob and mentally counted to three before firmly yanking the drawer open.

Immediately he jumped away scared by what he saw, falling on his ass on the floor and then he burst out laughing like a maniac.

Inside, the guitar strings that he had placed there that morning wrapped in a neat circle had unrolled and, as soon as he opened the drawer, they had burst out, scaring him to death.

He laughed again, shaking his head and watching how they bobbed everywhere.

Then he decided that that was a sign. The sign he should restring his guitar and play whatever it came to his mind.

He stood, grabbed the strings and the tools he needed and moved back to the table.

He also noticed the blood on his hand and grabbed a paper towel to clean himself and stop the blood from flowing further.

Before getting to work he even grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and chugged half of it. The coolness of the liquid helped him clear his mind a bit. At least his head wasn't spinning anymore.

He carefully started placing the new strings where they belonged with one hand while keeping the body of the guitar still with the other.

He tightened the first one and was about to place another when the hand that was holding the guitar still slipped slightly, making the lower part of the instrument bump against his crotch.

He tried again and again his hand slipped, making the guitar press against his hips like it happened seconds before.

He was slowly getting fed up by everything again.

He let go of the guitar, wiped his sweaty hands against his jeans and began again.

This time he held the guitar a bit more harshly, making his knuckles turn white.

He correctly placed another four strings and he was about to reach for the last one when his hold slipped and the instrument ended up pressing against his crotch again.

He groaned and involuntarily pressed his hips back against it, feeling himself twitch in his boxers.

Then, as if recovering from a momentaneous blackout, he shook his head, reprimanded himself and tried again to place the final string.

An imperceptible blush covered his cheeks, and he told himself it was because of the anger but in reality he was starting to feel aroused, something that happened to him often when he irresponsibly paired wine with anger.

He successfully placed the last string and a sigh of relief left his lips. Then he started turning the tuning peg to tighten it but the guitar slipped from his grasp again, this time pressing into his tense balls and causing a little twinge of pain.

But instead of recoiling from it, he felt his hips move forward almost without his control. He pressed his now growing erection against the wood and he had to bite his lips to stiffen a groan of pleasure.

He stopped himself hastily and bent over his guitar, pressing his sweaty forehead against the cool surface of the table and questioning what the hell he was doing.

After a few seconds he straightened his back, exhaling a curse through gritted teeth and tightened his hands against the body of his guitar.

“Fuck it” he said and started pressing his hips against the lower curve of the instrument.

Instantly, pleasure started coursing through his body and the rhythm of his hips intensified to chase his release.

During every push of his hips Jake felt like his guitar was slowly countering his thrusts fucking itself against him. He tried to change his rhythm and the instrument matched it effortlessly and impeccably.

He stopped overthinking what he was doing and quickly fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans letting go of the guitar.

When finally he managed to pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles, setting himself free and placed his trembling hands back against the body of the guitar, it almost felt like it was vibrating imperceptibly as if in anticipation of his next movements.

When the delicate flushed skin of his engorged cock made contact with the smooth cool wood of the guitar a whimpery moan left his spit-slicked lips and he had to bite them to stop himself from screaming.

He moved his hands to grip the wood better and, as his fingers involuntarily grazed the strings, a low note echoed into the room, vibrating through his body and making him shiver.

“Please, do it again” he heard his own voice beg but didn't notice his lips moving with the words.

He grazed his fingers gently against the strings one more time while thrusting his hips and he almost doubled over in pleasure as the guitar slipped again from his grasps and pressed against his balls.

Jake knew he was slowly losing his mind but the fact that it really looked and felt like his guitar was making him fuck her was terrorising and arousing him at the same time.

He quickened his rhythm, fingering the strings unashamedly now as if his guitar was a flesh-and-blood woman under his grasp begging him for more and more.

The vibrations of the music were bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

After a few seconds he noticed that his hands were replicating the same pattern without knowing and his heart skipped a beat.

That was it.

The new riff he was looking for.

Right there.

Where it had always been.

He just needed a little bit of help to bring that sound out of his jumbled mind.

The vibrations coming from the guitar had his back arching with a loud unbridled moan as his nails dug into the wood of the instrument.

He knew he was getting closer and closer.

Embracing his moment of insanity he bent again over his guitar while thrusting his flushed cock rapidly against the wood that was already sleek with sweat and precome.

“Am I fucking you good, baby? Is this what you wanted all along, hm? You wanted me to treat you like my one and only bitch, didn't you? Now take it, slut.” He whispered dirtily towards his guitar as his thrusts quickened even more.

Another crackle sounded from the amp behind him and a note sounding like a moan resounded from the guitar, making him bare his teeth towards the instrument.

“C'mon Beloved, sing for me a little more. But make it dirty.” he addressed the guitar once again and, as if on command, the moment his fingers grazed the frets another riff sounded into the room making Jake’s toes curl.

“Fuck, yes, just like that” he heard himself moan, as his body twitched and spasmed against his guitar. His hair was damp with sweat by then, as was his entire body, and kept swaying back and forth in time with his lewd movements.

One last drawn out low note that was dripping sex and darkness echoed into the room and right through his body making him reach his high.

He watched mesmerized as his cock hardened even more and tensed, exposing his many veins and then, with a long prolonged moan, he admired as ropes of pearlescent come covered and ruined the polished wood of the instrument.

When finally he had regained a bit of his composure he straightened his back and huffed out a little breathy laugh.

Then he bent over his guitar one last time and licked it clean from his release almost hungrily.

With the pointed tip of his tongue he collected the last white drop from a string and the single note that reverberated into the room gave him yet another new idea.

Immediately he straightened his back, tied his hair in a low bun and pulled his boxers and pants back up.

Then he grabbed his beloved, slung the strap over his shoulder and went to press the recording button only to discover that it was already on.

And he really didn't remember turning it on.

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Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads @katiegvf @sinarainbows @laney_gvf @themorningbirds @starcatcherchords @lipstickitty @meetingthestardust @joshskittytickler @livkiszka @twistedmelodies @ignite-my-fire @gvfmarge @writingcold @brujamagik @edgingthedarkness @gold-mines-melting

@mindastreamofcolours @blacksoul-27 @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @mapelsyrup07 @klarxtr @takenbythemadness @peaceloveunitygvf @lyndz2names @jazzyfigz @its-interesting-van-kleep @katuschka @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @hollyco @i-love-gvf

Two of my OCs, but they're at a Greta Concert

Can you tell who the Josh fan is and who the Jake fan is?🤭

Andromeda (Andi) has the blue hair and Charlotte (Charlie) is their wife!

Ok. Mild subby Josh thoughts. Imagine being out at a bar. He’s sitting on a stool and you’re standing between his legs and talking into his ear because the music is really loud. You don’t even notice that your hand is resting on his throat until he starts to squirm. You look down at him and he stares up at you with a sweet blush on his cheeks and a dazed look in his eyes.

Oh, I would not be able to resist.

"Did you like that?" As you trail a hand up his leg, feeling him half-hard in pants and he gulps. "And in public, Josh.... tsk tsk." You smirk against his ear as you feel him stiffen.

What You'd Do To Me Tonight

Sub!Josh × Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Sub!Josh, Dom!reader, slight bdsm, slight degradation, praise kink, mommy kink, master kink, handjobs, edging, dacryphillia

You decide that it's your turn to have a little fun with Josh instead of letting him take the reins this time...

Usually, you let Josh take the reigns I'm your relationship. He had a gentle dominance about him in the bedroom, but tonight, you were feeling bold and decided to take charge.

The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow from the bedside lamp, casting shadows across the walls as you leaned in closer to him. His breath hitched as your hands roamed his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath your touch. The air was thick with desire, the scent of him intoxicating as you inched closer, feeling the heat radiating off his skin.

Eventually, you pressed your lips against his, the kiss starting off slow and tender before growing more urgent and passionate. His hands found their way to your waist, presumably to pull you closer to him, but you stopped him with your own hands.

"Nuh-uh. No touching tonight unless you ask me," You whispered into his ear, nipping it for good measure. You could feel him shiver underneath you, but the cocky grin he had told you that he wasn't going to make this easy for you.

"Darling... You and I both know that you want me to touch you," He replied, trying to pull his hands from your grasp.

You sighed and stood up before taking a few steps back from the bed. Assuming he had control again, Josh grinned and tried to stand, only to be stopped again. His gaze followed your hands as you grabbed the box out of the closet that was full of various sex toys, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "Oh, c'mon, darling... you aren't really gonna chain me up, are you?"

You straddled him, pinning his arms above his head and chaining him to the headboard. "There," you began, "Now, be a good boy, and maybe I'll let you cum. Do I make myself clear?"

He rolls his eyes, a playful defiance in them, but beneath the surface, you can sense his excitement. It's in the way his toes curl involuntarily, the way his pupils dilate like dark pools of desire when you firmly grasp his jaw, asserting your dominance.

"I said: Do I make myself clear?" Your voice is a low, sultry purr, laced with a hint of command as you lean in, nipping teasingly at his plush lower lip.

Josh swallows audibly, a slight tremor running through his body as he struggles to maintain his composure. "Y-yes," he mumbles, the single word slipping past his lips in a breathless whisper, "Yes, you do..."

You hold his gaze, a silent challenge passing between you, before you slowly release his jaw, letting your fingers trail down his chest in a tantalizing caress. As you hover over him, a predator poised to strike, you feel a surge of confidence coursing through your veins. Tonight, you are the orchestrator of pleasure, the master of seduction, and Josh is your willing captive.

You unbuttoned his shirt, kissing down the column of his throat to his nipples, taking one of the sensitive buds into your mouth. His gasp turned into a moan as you nipped at it before turning your attention to the other and repeating your actions.

Your lips traveled down to his soft tummy, and Josh's chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his restrained hands clenching against the handcuffs as he arched into your touch. The room was filled with the heady scent of desire, mingling with the soft sounds of his gasps and the rustle of sheets beneath you.

As you peppered his tummy with kisses and hickeys, you could feel the tension building in him, a primal need coiling tight in the pit of his stomach. "Feel good, baby?" You ask, nuzzling his clothed inner thigh.

"Y-yes... feels good..." Josh mumbled back, his face buried into the meat of his shoulder, muffling his voice.

Well that just won't do.

"Josh. Look at me," You ordered. When it was clear he wasn't gonna move, you grabbed his jaw once more, making him face you. Now that you had his attention, you began undoing his pants with your free hand, "If you stop looking at me, I'll stop touching you."

His cock was leaking against his hip when you pulled his pants down, the movement making him shiver. You released his jaw in favor of trailing a finger down his hips and wiping a finger through the mess. You held it up to his lips expectantly. "Open." Josh's lips opened, and you spread his bitter fluid over his tongue, feeling heat pool in your center at the act. "What do you say?"

Josh sounded absolutely fucked out already when he finally responded, "T-thank you, master."

As a reward for his good behavior, you wrapped a hand around his cock, feeling it throb hot and heavy against your palm. Josh's breath hitched in his throat, a desperate sound escaping him as you began to stroke him slowly, teasingly. His eyes were locked on yours, pupils blown so wide they nearly seemed black.

You swiped a thumb over the tip of his cock, causing him to throw his head back. The moment he looked away, you let go of his cock, tearing a whine from him. "W-wait! Please don't stop!" He begged, teary-eyed.

"I told you I'd stop if you looked away. Want to try again?" You ask, fingers digging into the meat of his thigh.

"I promise I'll be good! Just- fuck, just please keep going..." Satisfied with his begging, you resumed your precious actions. This time when he got close, however, you kept going, working him through his orgasm. You gathered up the mess on his tummy, spreading it on two fingers before pressing them against his hole.

"Deep breath, baby..." You mumble as you push your fingers into him.

This wasn't something that happened often, Josh bottoming, but it was something that you both enjoyed from time to time. As your fingers slid into him, his body tensed momentarily, a mixture of anticipation and a hint of vulnerability flashing across his features. The air in the room crackled with a raw intensity as you watched his face contort with a myriad of emotions.

Josh's breath hitched in his chest as he adjusted to the feeling of your fingers stretching him, his muscles clenching and releasing in a delicious rhythm. His eyes, darkened with desire, searched yours for guidance, for reassurance, and you responded with exactly that, reaching up to cup his cheek in your palm.

You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the subtle tremors coursing through his body as he surrendered to your touch. Every small movement, every breath he took, seemed amplified in the charged atmosphere of the room. His movements and whines became more and more frequent as you pushed deeper, searching for that spot you knew would have him singing for you.

"Ahn! F-fuck! (Y/N)!" His back arched off the bed, handcuffs jangling against the bed frame, "M-more! Please, Mommy!"

Both of you froze. Josh had never called you that before. You could see the panic and embarrassment rising in his face, so you said the first thing that came to mind.

"Mommy's got you, baby..." You soothed him, speeding up your movements. It wouldn't be long now, you knew. He was like putty in your hands, all signs of defiance from earlier gone, now replaced by desperate gasps and writhing movements.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm coming!"

When Josh came a second time, it was with a scream of your name as his cock spurted onto his tummy. Afterwards, the room was enveloped in silence, broken only by the heavy panting of Josh as he lay sprawled out on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Beads of sweat glistened on his skin, his body a canvas of raw desire and ecstasy. His eyes were half-lidded, glazed over with a sheen of pleasure, as he basked in the aftermath of his release.

You watched him intently, your heart swelling with a mix of affection and lust at the sight of him so utterly undone. As much as you wanted to go another round, you knew he was done for the night.

"You did so good for me, Josh..." You whispered into his ear as you unhooked the handcuffs, gently rubbing the red marks left behind, "Let's get you in the bath, okay?"

"Mmm... okay..." Josh mumbled, clearly exhausted. You started him a bath, making sure to add in some lavender soap to the tub just like you knew Josh liked. Getting him to the bathroom was definitely a bit of work, what with his legs being jelly, but you managed, before climbing into the tub behind him, pulling him against your chest.

"Love you, Josh."

"Love you too, (Y/N)... Ya' always make me feel so good..." He mumbles, half asleep already.

You knew he'd get back at you next time, but for now, he was your baby...

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

Josh Kiszka hear me out on this one

I just know Josh would say his silly little “better than sex” phrase when you scratch the shaven sides of his jullet