sirjaketkiszka

[sirjaketkiszka]

(Extremely) Slowly… But surely…

[sirjaketkiszka]

Hey yall!! I’m finally getting some time off work in a couple days and I’m slowly (but surely) finishing the next chapter to Silver Springs. I know I’ve been LACKING in the posting department, but I promise I’m trying!! Thank you for being patient with me and I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to get back in the groove.

Much love to you all!!!

(Edit):

My list of priorities-

1) Silver Springs Chapter Five

2) Confessions: A Jake Kiszka One Shot

3) It’s a Sin Chapter Two

[sirjaketkiszka]

Josh Kiszka One Shot: Teeth Marks

You attend a Halloween party with your best friend, Josh.

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Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,129

Warnings: 18+!!, sexual content, cursing, kissing, biting, a bit of grinding, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, slight dirty talking, drawing of blood, cream pie, a sprinkle of overstimulation, and, of course, mediocre writing.

(Let me know if I missed any, please!)

Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

A/N- So excited to be one of the authors selected for Gretaween 2024 by @moonlightisdancing. It's a short one, but I hope you all enjoy <3

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The muffled pounding of bellowing music shakes the rickety front porch beneath your feet, the aged wood groaning with every hesitant step. By the sound coming from behind the door, you can tell the party is in full swing, and like usual, you’re late. It’s not like you meant to be late, it was your ride’s fault. Speaking of which–

“The door should be open,” Josh huffs while rushing up the front porch steps of his home. He offered to pick you up since you’re wearing matching costumes– vampires– and wanted to show up together. Josh is dressed in a white long-sleeve button-up with fake blood dripping down the side of his neck, staining the stark white fabric of his shirt; implying that he’s your victim. 

You, on the other hand, are wearing a deep red satin corset with a mesh flared long-sleeve underneath and a black mini skirt that rests just below your ass. Your lips are crimson, a similar shade dripping down the corners of your lips, which hide the removable vampire teeth implants on your canines. Josh is sporting the same implants, which flash every time he speaks.

“I know, I'm just waiting for you.” You lie, and he notices, stopping in his tracks and looking at you with a quirked brow. “Do you think we look ridiculous?” You sigh out, looking down at yourself. 

“Of course not. We look amazing,” he frowns, looking at both of you. “Do you want to wait a moment?” He asks sincerely, his tone gentle, and his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. 

“No, no, I’m ready.” Nodding, he steps before you, turning the handle and passing the threshold as the door swings open. The once-muffled music blares in your ears with the uncomfortably humid air engulfing the two of you as Josh pushes past the dense crowd. His hand reaches behind him, encouraging you to take it while you weave between partygoers, the stench of their sweat and consumed alcohol reaching your nose. Your hand rests comfortably in his, his long fingers intertwining with yours and gripping tightly as you approach the cramped kitchen.  

You’re honestly surprised by the number of people attending the party; the sea of individuals is a mixture of Halloween costumes– clowns, zombies, pirates… Multiple pirates, actually. You notice a few costumes as references to films and even spot a couple dressed as vampires, though they’re Twilight vampires based on the excessive amount of glitter stuck to their skin.

“Here we are.” Josh’s voice comes out in an exasperated huff as he stops in front of the array of cheap alcohol, mixers, chasers, and red solo cups. “Your usual?”

“Yes, please.” 

Josh lets go of your hand and swiftly conjures up your usual drink, but you doubt you’ll be drinking much tonight. With parties this big, you prefer to stay alert, and you mostly end up people-watching– witnessing sloshed strangers embarrass themselves and act out of character. 

“Nice costume.” A deep voice says behind you, causing you to turn around to see who it is, but you’re unsure when you look at him. He’s dressed as Frankenstein’s monster and has an equally terrifying smirk on his face. 

“Oh, thanks. You too.”

“You here with anyone?” He questions despite your deliberate lack of interest.

“Yes, actually.” Just as Josh finishes making the drinks, he butts into the conversation, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him as he hands you a drink. You’re aware this is his way of asking the stranger to politely fuck off, but you can’t control the heat that creeps into your cheeks. Josh isn’t scary in the slightest, but the man still backs off, silently apologizing while backing away. 

“Thank you for that.” You sigh, bringing the cup to your lips and taking a sizable gulp. 

“Of course. Looks like I’ll be needing to keep an eye on you tonight.” He chuckles, leaving his arm wrapped around your waist as he reaches for his drink. This wouldn’t be the first time, and certainly not the last, that you and Josh acted couple-like to avoid the unwanted attention of others, but something felt… different. 

That feeling remains persistent throughout the night, and while no one else bothers you, Josh still keeps his hold on you. His hands find your waist with ease, his eyes lingering on yours, and his body stays glued to yours while talking with mutual friends. You’re unsure if it’s the slight buzz clouding your senses, or if maybe his actions hold a deeper meaning. You’re not opposed to finding out, either. 

~~~~~~~~~

The last stragglers eventually stumble out of the house, climbing into waiting cars to take them home in their drunken state. Josh’s brothers have already disappeared elsewhere, most likely to avoid the lingering mess throughout the eerily silent house. The music is no longer playing, and the constant murmur of people talking has gone void, leaving you and Josh alone in the mess of a kitchen. Crumpled plastic cups make themselves home on the counter, and floor, while piling around the perimeter of the overflowing trashcan. Half-empty cups are left on every surface of the house; above the fireplace, the coffee table, the dining room table, and even the bathroom sink. It takes you both some time to collect every piece of remaining trash and pack them into larger garbage bags, but once you finish, the two of you lean against the cleared kitchen counter, admiring the somehow spotless kitchen. 

“Wanna stay the night?” Josh’s tone cuts through the silence of the kitchen, pulling you to look at him. You’ve both sobered up by now, and the exhaustion that’s built itself through the entire night consumes you. You’d be lying if laying in Josh’s bed doesn’t sound amazing right now, and it’s not like sleeping over is new for you, but still, you’re hesitant. The brief grazes, subtle touches, and flirtatious stares have you wound up, and you’re not entirely sure sharing a bed with him is a good idea. 

“Sure, why not.” Fuck it. 

“Perfect.” He smiles, flashing his faux vampire fangs, pushing himself away from the counter, and walking toward the living room. Following him, you depart from the counter, meekly mimicking his path into the next room and up the creaky staircase. The quiet house amplifies the sound of your heavy steps, your pulse matching as you come closer to his room. Why you’re so nervous, you didn’t know. 

Josh swings the door open, allowing you to step in first, and closes it behind you, rounding your stance and plopping on the edge of his bed. You opt for his desk, leaning against the sturdy piece of furniture, and crossing your arms. He looks confused, tilting his head, surely wondering why you’re keeping your distance from him. 

“Did you enjoy the party?” He asks, visibly pushing aside the previous thought. 

“Of course, I did,” A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips from his small talk, the sudden awkwardness causing heat to wrap around your neck. While you’ve known Josh for years, it feels as though something shifted during the party, and you have a suspicion he feels it as well. “Did you?”

Taking him in as he nods, his doe-eyes look up at you from his seated position, the blood dripping down his neck now dry and cracking, and his lips are peculiarly plump as the fangs push against them. He’s leaning back, his arms propping him up on open palms, and his legs are naturally spread. He looks… Good. Rising heat settles in your gut as the pitch-black of your pupils expands, and ironically, given your costume, your mouth waters, and your skin prickles with pure desire. 

You don’t exactly plan, or expect, the next phrase to come out of your mouth, in fact, you’re not sure where it’ll lead. However, you can’t help yourself when the stillness settles yet again between you, and he too looks like he’s expecting something… Waiting… His eyes are glossy, his eyebrows scrunched upward, and the minute twitch in his leg shows his anxiousness.

“Come here.” 

With a simple rushed expression, he’s off the bed and standing mere inches from you, your slouched position against his desk prompting you to tilt your head back. The rich browns of his irises are consumed by the darkness of his pupils, reflecting a chilling amount of lust underneath the surface. His chest rises and falls quickly, small huffs of air pushing past his partially open lips. Wild eyes filled with uncertainty search your features, his hands hesitantly reaching for your waist, just ghosting over the thick material of your corset. 

“Can I kiss–”

Without another word, your arms uncross, your hands grasping his face in a firm grip as your lips collide with his. A startled hum catches in his throat, his eyes going wide for a second before fluttering close, his body melting into yours and pushing you further into the desk. His hands find the courage to grab your waist, his fingertips turning white from the strength of his hold on you, and digging slightly into the rough fabric.

Your vampire fangs poke just behind your lips, causing you to part them, allowing Josh to brush his tongue against yours. He tastes exactly how you’ve always imagined… for an embarrassing amount of time. He’s sweet and smokey, and the lingering taste of alcohol dances along the corners of his mouth. It’s intoxicating. Insatiable.

His hips instinctively thrust against yours, fully propping you onto the flat surface of the desk. Your legs open for him, your skirt slowly hiking up your bare thighs as he settles between your spread legs. A small gasp pierces your lungs when you feel his hardened bulge pressing against your clothed core as he slowly grinds into you, deepening the kiss. 

Hunger takes over, the sharp edges of both of your vampire fangs nipping at reddened, plump lips. Your crimson lipstick has transferred onto him, smudging along the edges of his lips as he pulls away, his pupils blown and yours mirroring his. Chests heaving and lips agape, you pause, his hands subtly trembling against your waist and your hands sliding down his cheeks to his shoulders. 

“Keep going.” You whisper. Moving with haste, Josh reaches for the implants, struggling to take them off before you grab his wrist, stopping him. “Keep them on.”

A smug smile pulls at his lips, accentuating his perfect teeth paired with the dull sharpness of the fangs. He leans forward, dipping into your neck and planting soft kisses along the sensitive flesh. A soft breath brushes past your lips, letting out a silent sigh as your head tilts, allowing him more access to the expanse of your neck. 

Gentle kisses become open-mouthed, his teeth grazing the tender skin. A moan melts from you when you feel him sink his teeth into the skin just below your jaw, biting hard enough to leave a mark, but without drawing blood. He repeats this motion along your neck, pulling needier whines the harder he bites. Your hips absently buck into his, chasing the friction you so desperately crave. 

“Please, Josh. More.”

“Wanna enjoy this—” His words are mumbled against the crook of your neck as he switches to the other side, giving it as much attention as the previous. The unbearable heat that pools in your gut causes you to grasp at his waist, pulling him into you and rubbing his erection against your aching clit. A shared groan fills the silence of his room, and without much encouragement, he thrusts into you again, and again. 

A consistent string of moans and silent curses blows into his ear as he grunts against you, his hands traveling to the outside of your thighs and gripping tightly to gain momentum. You could finish just like this, the tingling sensation already building deep in your cunt, your walls pulsing with arousal. But you want more. Need more.

With a squeeze of your legs around his hips, he pulls away, his eyes examining his work; red two-dot marks litter your blotchy skin with small developing bruises alternating between bite marks. From the smirk on his kiss-plump lips, he’s satisfied.

Watching intently, his gaze travels down your body, his eyes lingering on your restricted breasts pushing against the corset. You open your mouth to speak, but you shut it when he sinks to his knees, his face level with your aching cunt. His eyes hold yours, silently asking for permission as his hands hook in the waistband of your skirt. Nodding fervently, he tugs gently, pulling the stretchy fabric of the skirt and your underwear down. 

He swallows thickly when his eyes settle on your glistening cunt, and if it were possible, his eyes become a black void. Nerves climb your throat as he leans forward, the soft huffs of his breath sending a chill down your spine. Slowly, he presses firm kisses along the inner of your thighs, occasionally sinking his teeth into the plush flesh. Strained whines melt off your tongue, your eyebrows scrunching the closer he gets to where you want him. Finally, his tongue darts between the fangs, swiping leisurely up your slit and nearly causing you to double over from the unexpected pleasure. 

“Oh, god—” Shallow gasps expand your lungs while your hands fly to his curls and grip gently, encouraging his movements. He works faster, exploring your velvety folds and humming when he tastes your arousal spread on his tongue. His eyes roll back as they shut, his lips nuzzling against your clit and sucking harshly, making you throw your head back. “Fuck!” 

The sound of his slurping and your drawn-out moans are borderline pornographic, but you can’t bother to consider the thought of anyone hearing. His movements are strategic, being mindful of his teeth, as he rhythmically flicks the tip of his tongue against your swollen clit. 

“Josh— Fuck, I’m so close!”

Just when your peak heightens, the squeezing of your walls quickens, and your hips sporadically grind against his open mouth. You’re so close and your breath hitches, stopping completely as the coil tightens—

He pulls away and your climax disappears just as quickly as it came. A frustrated groan grumbles deep within you, and he snickers, getting up and standing between your writhing legs. 

“Why’d you stop?” Your words are winded, your chest heaving from your heavy breaths. 

“I need to feel you.” His lips are shiny with your arousal, his chin sporting the same shine, and his eyes stay on yours. It’s enough to distract you from his hands fumbling with his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, then pulling them down to free his erection. Holding his gaze, sharp breaths enter you both when he rubs his tip between your slick folds, spreading your arousal along his sensitive tip and prodding at your weeping entrance. Your legs open further with your fingers still tangled in his hair as he pushes his hips forward. Inch by inch, your walls accommodate his impressive size, stretching around him and pulling him in the deeper he pushes. He lets out a groan with a breath you weren’t aware he was holding as he bottoms out, his forehead leaning against yours while he catches his breath. 

A beat passes before he finally pulls back almost completely before thrusting back in slowly. Shaky breaths fill the space between you and his hands rest on your waist for reassurance, squeezing lightly. He remains the unhurried pace, allowing the dull ache to melt into pleasure, and the scolding heat returns to your gut. Restraint is present in his rhythm as he holds back, his jaw clenching as he chases for more. 

“Faster.” You tell him, holding his curls tightly as he moves quicker, thrusting into you roughly. The desk rocks from the vigorous movement, and you wrap your legs around him, keeping him close as your climax rebuilds itself. 

“Feels so good. So wet.” He mutters, his eyes squeezing shut as he thrusts harder. “Been thinking about this all night.”

“Shit– Me too.” You admit, “For so long.”

“Yeah?” His forehead leaves yours at your admission, his eyes boring into yours. 

“Yeah.”

“Me too.” 

From such simple words, your orgasm is at its peak and you can no longer hold it, but based on Josh’s thrusts growing sloppier, he’s not far behind. His grip on your waist becomes stronger, more desperate, as if he’s trying to hold on longer– to keep going. 

“I’m– Fuck!” Before the words can leave your lips, your climax crashes into like a ton of bricks, leaving you hopelessly out of control of your body. Your head tilts forward and your open mouth latches onto his clothed shoulder, your fangs piercing through the soft material and sinking into his muscle. Your cries are muffled as your walls spasm around his cock, waves of arousal coating it as he continues to thrust into you, his orgasm hitting simultaneously.

“Oh fuuuck.” His words come out in a prolonged whine, his head thrown back as he finishes inside of you, milking his orgasm while his erection twitches with every pump. As if he’s unable to stop, he lazily continues, pulling exasperated whimpers from you both. “S’too good.” 

Releasing his shoulder, specks of blood stain the white fabric, matching the fake blood that drips along the front of it. You examine him; his hair is a mess– a product of your tugging– his cheeks are bright red, and his eyes are hooded. He looks, well, fucked. And you’re sure you mimick his expression; brows furrowed from overstimulation, lips parted, and skin marked by him. 

When neither of you can take anymore, he hesitantly pulls out, and a single moan escapes you from the lack of contact. A shiver travels down your spine when you feel the mixed orgasms spill out of you and onto the desk, leaving you a mess. 

Josh is quick to find a towel, wiping the surface beneath and gently cleaning off your sensitive cunt. He assists you in sliding off the desk and your legs are immediately wobbly when you put your weight on them. Pulling you to the bed, he sits down on the edge, encouraging you to sit on his lap, straddling him. Not a single word is shared between you, though it’s not uncomfortable. 

With his head tilted back to look up at you, you kiss him tenderly, earning a soft groan from him. Unable to help yourself, you grind your naked cunt on him, and you’re pleasantly surprised when you feel his erection returning. 

“Already?” You chuckle, breaking the kiss and quirking a brow.

“Well, you know what they say,” He smiles, flashing those damn fangs, “Vampires don’t sleep.”

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Tags:

[sirjaketkiszka]

Hey yall! It’s been far too long since I last posted, and for that I offer you my sincerest apologies. After my vacation, I immediately went back into work and ultimately found no time or motivation to write. Now, that being said, I’m going to find time and essentially force myself to get back into writing. My first priority is Silver Springs since I haven’t updated in well over a month, then I will work on pushing out a few one shots I’ve started but haven’t finished.

Also, I finally got Tumblr to work on my phone again, so no more radio silence. Much love!!

[sirjaketkiszka]

Jake One Shot: Attitude Adjustment

Some things call for punishment.

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Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6,241

Warnings: 18+!!, sexual content, horny!reader, bratty!reader, the pet name "sweetheart," slight grinding, slight public inappropriate touching, angry!Jake, rough!Jake, oral m!receiving, face-fucking, hair-pulling, gagging, oral f!receiving, fingering, a bit of edging, orgasm denial, spanking, taunting/mocking, unprotected PIV sex, begging, light degradation, choking, creampie, aftercare, a hint of fluff, and of course, mediocre writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

Jake Kiskza One Shot Masterpost

A/N: I heavily suggest listening to Deftones while reading. Enjoy ;)

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Once satisfied with your work, you pucker your lips in the large bathroom mirror after painting them with clear gloss. You examine your appearance; a mini skirt rests just below the curves of your ass, paired with your favorite top, with black eyeliner smudged across your waterline. Josh is expecting you and Jake to come over relatively soon for a “welcome back” get-together, hosted by himself, of course. And with the tour's first leg being over, the band is home for a few weeks– something you and Jake had already taken advantage of earlier this morning. 

“Did you miss me?” Jake’s husky morning voice rang in your ears as he thrust into you from his spooning position, your leg hooked over his own with your back flush against his chest. Heavy breaths caused his chest to heave into your upper back while your lower back arched, your head pressing against his shoulder while his lips grazed the curve of your ear. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Jake, I missed you so much.” Your voice was hoarse, sleep still intertwined heavily in your breathless moans. You missed mornings like this and hated being away from him for so long– you both figured you’d get the most out of the short break. 

Flashes of the memories cause your vision to blur and thighs to rub subconsciously, your eyes zoning out and keeping you from noticing Jake’s sudden presence. Walking up behind you, his warmth engulfs your backside. The front of his body molds against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he smiles at you through the mirror. 

“Almost ready?” His sweet voice pulls you to lock eyes with him through the reflection, your gaze focusing solely on him. 

“Just about.” Smiling back, you push your hips back against him, yearning for his touch again. You can’t help but notice the strained noise that catches in the back of his throat when you do, making you fight the urge to plaster on a devilish grin. 

“You look beautiful,” He whispers while bringing up a hand to sweep away the hair from your neck, placing soft kisses along the exposed skin. His hips absently grind into you as his nose grazes your skin, his lips dragging and leaving open-mouth kisses along the sensitive flesh. Tilting your head to the side, your eyes flutter close, your lips partially opening to let soft breaths pass. 

His hands rest on your hips, holding you in place while his erection grows against your ass. You aren’t entirely sure if you have enough time, but God, you don’t care. Josh will understand if you show up late, right?

“Jake–” When you whisper his name, he pulls away from your neck, his eyes trained on the side of your face.

“Tell me what you want.” His warm breath rushes along your neck, sending small huffs with every accentuated syllable. 

“You.” He nearly groans at the single word muttered from your lips as he pushes harder into you, holding you against the bathroom counter. Wandering hands leave your hips, traveling along the curve of your waist and plastering themselves across your stomach and ribs, eventually settling on the hills of your breasts. He squeezes them gently, resuming his peppered kisses along your neck while his words vibrate against you.

“Didn’t get enough this morning, did you?” His voice borders on taunting.

“Never.” 

“Neither did I.” His confession is followed by one of his hands carefully wrapping around the front of your neck, and the other moving from your breast to the bottom of your skirt. Slowly hiking the stretchy material up your thighs, his fingers graze the heated bare skin and your eyes shoot open to look at him; his hand wrapped around your throat holds you still while the pads of his fingers caress the moistened fabric of your underwear. He hums in approval when feeling your arousal, just seconds away from giving you what you want–

Buzz buzz

His phone in the back pocket of his worn jeans vibrates, prompting him to pull his hands away from you to grab it. You nearly let out a whine of protest while the remaining feeling of his warmth disappears from your neck and your skirt falls back into place. Turning to face him, he frowns at his phone, clearly just as upset as you are. 

“Who is it?” You ask eagerly, attempting to ignore the dull heartbeat between your legs.

“It’s Josh,” He sighs, “He wants to know when we’ll be there– I guess everyone else is already there.” Sliding his phone in his back pocket, he gives you a sympathetic smile and leans toward you, kissing your scrunched forehead softly. His hands instinctively rest on your waist, and he chuckles when he sees the slight pout on your features, “I’m sorry, baby, but we have to go.” 

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” Trying to reason with him, your pointer fingers hook themselves into his belt loops and pull his hips flush against yours. His bulge is straining in the confines of his jeans, and you know it pains him to stop, “Please?” 

“No time, sweetheart. Don’t wanna be late.” While he turns you down with a subtle shake of his head, disappointment settles in your gut. 

“Fine.” Throwing your head back with an exaggerated groan, you release his belt loops and step around him to finish getting ready. His body turns to follow your movements, silently watching as you bend over to slip your shoes on. Clearing his throat, his eyes settle on the peek of your underwear as your skirt moves up your thighs. 

“Will you behave?” You smirk at the slight uncertainty in his voice while he attempts to keep his restraint. Standing up straight and slowly walking toward him, you drag your hands up his stomach to his broad chest, the muscles beneath your fingertips flexing with the tantalizing movement. You lean in, your lips ghosting over his while he parts them, waiting.

“You know I will.” Your hushed words pour along his parted lips, and he’s flustered when you pull away. 

“Good.” He swallows thickly, his eyes blinking rapidly to keep his composure, “I’ll give you what you want after dinner, okay?” 

“I’m counting on it.”

If only you had known how long dinner was actually going to last. Josh is already on his tenth story about the tour and shows no signs of stopping. Usually, you’d be all ears because you love listening to him talk, but you’re growing antsy; your thighs clench beneath the dining room table, the heat of Jake’s palm on your bare knee only adds to your growing arousal, and your mind wanders to what awaits when you get home. When you shift in your seat, Jake’s hand twitches on your knee, and he glances over at you. 

“You okay?” He asks quietly, low enough for only you to hear. 

“M’fine.” You flash a close-mouth smile to him, bringing your attention back to Josh and everyone else at the table. Sam and Danny listen intently, laughing along with Josh and adding any missed details to the stories he shares. Dinner has since withered away from the plates, drinks gone dry in cups, and you’re hoping that means it’s coming to an end soon. 

“So, how about some dessert?” Josh claps his hands together, finishing his previous story and standing from his chair at the end of the table. Everyone, including Jake, simultaneously agrees with murmured phrases of “absolutely,” “sounds lovely,” and “of course.” When you don’t respond, Josh pauses, squinting at you, “And you?” 

“Oh! Um– yeah, that sounds good.” Plastering on an eager smile, Jake peers over at you when Josh leaves the dining room, bringing Danny and Sam with him for assistance. 

“What’s wrong?” His tone is genuine, and you feel silly for your pure desperation, “You seem off.” His thumb absently rubs circles on your knee, and the feather-light touch travels up your inner thigh, straight to your aching core. This is torture.

“Just eager to get home, that’s all.”

“Oh,” A smug smirk pulls the corners of his lips, flashing his teeth into a full-on shit-eating grin, “Patience, sweetheart, we’re almost done here.” 

“I have none.” You whine, resting your hand on his, squeezing tightly. Sliding his hand from your knee, you let his palm graze the plush flesh of your thigh until his fingers rest just centimeters from your clothed cunt. A shaky inhale pierces his lungs when he feels the heat radiating from between your legs, his hand gripping your thigh to keep still. 

“Be good.” He rushes out when his brothers return holding bowls of ice cream, setting them down on the placemats before you. His hand remains on your thigh, his fingers slightly twitching, kneading deeper into your skin. 

The storytelling resumes while you pick away at your ice cream, eventually coming to regret placing Jake’s hand so close to where you desire him most. Jake seems to be heavily amused by the effect his simple touch has on you, his lips twitching into a smirk each time you squirm with a subtle squeeze of his hand. Two can play that game, you decide.

Mirroring the position of his hand, yours rests just below the bulge in his pants, your pinky grazing the rough fabric of his jeans. His spoon nearly drops from his hand at the sudden intrusion, and his eyes shift toward you, an innocent smile spreading on your lips. You know this is risky and highly inappropriate, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Months without Jake proved to be extremely difficult; creating an insatiable problem not even your hand could fix. 

Removing his hand from your thigh, he grips the table’s edge, his fingertips turning white from the force. You turn to listen keenly to Sam’s talking, your hand now traveling up and palming Jake’s hardening bulge. His hips softly buck into your hand, making a quiet sound reminiscent of a choked groan mix into the clearing of his throat. 

“You okay, Jake?” Josh’s voice breaks through Sam’s story, and everyone turns to look at Jake, including you. His face is flushed and his eyes wide while heat creeps up his neck, a result of you stroking his clothed erection underneath the security of the table. 

“Yep.” He grunts out, discreetly reaching down and gripping your wrist, halting your movements, “I think it’s time we head home, though.” 

“I suppose,” Josh sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, but you know he’s only joking, “Let me walk you both out.” Jake shoots up from his chair while your hand falls from his lap, and you follow his movements, carefully standing from your seat and sharing goodbyes with Sam and Danny. 

The twins exchange pleasantries while Josh walks the two of you to the door; Jake thanks him for the meal and having you over while Josh thanks the both of you for coming. It’s a relatively routine goodbye, one you’ve seen them do plenty of times, and you’re eager to get out the door. 

As soon as the front door is shut behind you, Jake grabs your wrist and swiftly walks toward the car, dragging you behind him. 

“Jake, wait–”

“No talking.” His tone is austere and cutting, making you close your mouth immediately, your feet stumbling beneath you while you struggle to keep up. His demeanor has changed completely; darkness looms over his stature as he treks down the long driveway, his calloused fingertips digging into you, but never firm enough to cause you any discomfort. 

When he opens the passenger door, you quickly get in and flinch when he slams the door shut. Your eyes follow him as he moves briskly to round the front of the car, swinging the driver’s side door open and plopping into the seat, wasting no time to start the engine. 

“Jake, I’m sorry–”

“What did I say?” His harsh voice cuts you off. 

The car ride is eerily silent, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, white-knuckling the steering wheel. You avoid looking at him, only focusing on the blurred view that speeds past the passenger window. A pitch-black canvas paints the sky with speckles of twinkling stars and rough brush strokes of vanishing clouds— the only definitive outline is of the towering trees littered along the dimly lit road. You know what’s coming once you get home, and you can’t help but feel a little… excited. 

It’s not long before the car pulls into the driveway and he puts it in park, moving with haste. You wait impatiently while he exits the vehicle, walks around the hood, and opens the passenger door for you. Grabbing his extended hand and stepping out, you follow closely as his legs stride to the front door, his long fingers firmly intertwined with yours. 

Once the door is open, he pulls you inside, shutting it behind you and releasing your hand. Parting your lips to speak, he interrupts you again.

“Go to the bedroom.” His gruff voice cuts through the suddenly thick air of your shared home, and you nod, turning in the direction of the stairs and treading up the wooden steps. Your heavy footsteps are followed by deep thuds, Jake’s own mimicking them just seconds behind. Looking over your shoulder, he keeps a distance of a few feet, his lust-crazed eyes trained on you. Anticipation wraps around your torso, making you pick up the pace to get to the bedroom quicker, and when you cross the threshold, you immediately turn around, waiting for an instruction of any sort.

The stern look on his face is very telling, and you know exactly what happens next. His thick eyebrows are set in an irritated scowl, and his deep maroon lips are naturally downturned into a frown. His pointed glare pierces through you, his eyes void of any empathy, pure vexation taking its place. He steps closer once he shuts the bedroom door, audibly locking it while holding your gaze. Standing toe-to-toe with him, you cross your arms over your chest, your chin held high, challenging him. 

“What did I say about behaving?” His tone is concerningly calm, and a single chill prompts the thin hairs on your arms and the back of your neck to perk up, leaving minuscule bumps in their wake. He slowly blinks while addressing you, his body nearly vibrating with pent-up frustration, clearly struggling to keep his composure. Jake usually can keep his cool, but the only times he really struggled was when you pushed his buttons– on purpose, of course– which is exactly what you’re doing now. 

“I don’t know,” You shrug innocently, your voice reflecting naivety, “What did you say? Maybe I wasn’t listening.” You’re certainly playing a perilous game, considering you don’t always reach the desired outcome. But, you don’t know till you try it. 

“I could’ve sworn you were.” Tilting his head, his hand comes up to grip your chin between his pointer finger and thumb as he examines your features, “What did you say… ‘You know I will.’” He tsks, shaking his head disappointedly, “Your words, sweetheart.” 

“I don’t recall.” You answer sarcastically, your eyes boring into his, watching metaphoric flames in his eyes rage at your persistent attitude.

“Get on the bed.” There’s a rigorousness to his words, his teeth baring as he enunciates them and drops his hand from your chin. You back away from him, the bed only mere feet from you, but you hesitate when the edge of the mattress hits the back of your knees. He leisurely walks toward you, his shoulders heaving slowly with the heaviness of his deep breaths. His eyes are clouded with sin; lust expanding the darkness of his pupils, causing them to melt into his chocolate brown irises. “I said,” His voice is nearly a growl as his hands rest on your shoulders, carefully shoving you down to sit, “Get on the fucking bed.” 

A small oof leaves your lips when you sink into the plush mattress, the bedframe quietly creaking from the force. Looking up at him through your lashes, his hooded eyes peer down at you as his hands grip the sides of your face, tilting your head back. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks with faux solace, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes.” You admit, the simple word rolling off your tongue with a shaky breath. 

“If you say so.”

His hands leave your face to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, undoing the few that are actually buttoned, and pulling the cotton garment off his shoulders and arms. His upper body lays bare to you, his chest rising and falling with every breath, wavy hair framing his exposed neck, and his stomach clenching from the sudden coolness of the bedroom. Your mouth waters at the ungodly sight, watching as he toys with the button and zipper of his jeans, eventually pulling the waistband of them and his boxers down just enough. 

You swallow thickly when coming face to face with his erection; the angry red tip leaks precum dripping down the shaft and traveling along the most prominent vein. When glancing up at him, a cocky smirk is displayed on his lips, expectant and waiting. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” The once wholesome pet name now spills venom. Leaning forward, you keep your eyes on him as your tongue hangs from your lips, collecting the precum from his sensitive tip. His hips jerk slightly from the mixed sensation of your warmth and the hum that vibrates from the depths of your throat when you taste him. Sliding your hands up his thighs, you attempt to grip his shaft to assist, but he swats your hand away, “Ah– No touching.”

“How will I–” 

Placing one of his hands behind your head, he nudges you forward, making your mouth completely engulf his tip between your lips. He groans when your cheeks hollow around him, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact, “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? Always talking back.” 

The hand on the back of your head brushes through your hair, sweeping away the strands that cover your face, and gathering them into a make-shift ponytail. Twisting the bundle of hair around his closed fist, he moves you further onto his cock, watching intently while your brows scrunch at the feeling of his tip brushing against your throat. His jaw falls slack and eyebrows scrunch as he pulls you back, then pushes you back onto his erection, repeating the motion until low grunts dangle on his tongue. 

Your mouth is a mixture of an increasing amount of spit and salty precum, the liquids leaking from the corners of your mouth as he controls your movements. When he decides the speed isn’t enough, he halts, moving his free hand to grip your chin and feel his cock slide into your throat. Without moving your head, he thrusts his erection into your mouth, gaining speed quite rapidly and repeatedly poking the back of your tongue. 

“You like when I fuck your throat?” You make a noise of agreement, nodding slightly with his cock sliding in your hollowed cheeks, “Shuts you right up, huh?” 

The persistent motion causes tears to gather along your darkened waterline with spit now dripping down the sides of your chin and onto Jake’s hand. He doesn’t seem to mind, if anything, he moves quicker and more relentlessly while exasperated huffs exhale from him. The looming threat of gagging clenches your torso, and you breathe deeply and hum aimlessly to keep it from happening. Though, Jake notices, and thrusts harder. 

“C’mon, baby.” He coos, tightening his grip on your hair, and choking out a moan when the muffled sound of you gagging around his cock fills the room. The tears that collected rush down your cheeks, and as a result, leave streaks of black on the blotchy skin. He abruptly pulls out of your mouth when his stomach spasms, signaling that his release isn’t far behind. Gasping for the air you forgot you needed, you heel over and watch as strings of spit connect you to his glistening cock, and dribble down your chin. You figure you must look in disarray; hair tangled from his grip, cheeks bright red, lips shining with spit and precum, and black eyeliner traveling over the rounds of your cheekbones. Still, he looks at you with a sense of adoration, inspecting the labor present on your face while releasing the hold on your hair and gently wiping away the fallen tears. “Lay back.”

Following his order, you scooch back onto the bed, moving backward until you feel the pillows beneath your upper back. You lower yourself onto the soft material and your head sinks into the cushioned fabric. 

“Undress yourself.” 

Moving fervently, you sit up to grip the bottom hem of your shirt, lifting the material over your head and throwing it elsewhere. You hook your thumbs into the elastic waistband of both your mini skirt and underwear, stretching the fabric over the curves of your hips and lifting them to shimmy out of the clothes. Discarding those, you move to unhook your bra, peeling the straps off your shoulders and tossing it over the bed. You lay bare in front of Jake, who stands in only his jeans at the end of the bed with a primal expression on his face. You feel small under his investigative glare, diffidence blooming in your chest as his eyes rake over your breasts and settle on your spread folds. 

Tucking himself into his boxers, he climbs onto the bed, moving slowly up the foot of it until he’s between your spread legs, eye-level with your weeping cunt. Blowing gently on the sensitive skin, your legs twitch around his shoulders, unable to close. Your hips writhe beneath him as you fight the urge to buck your hips into his mouth, growing visibly impatient as you crane your head to watch him. 

“So needy.” He whispers with a dark chuckle, lowering himself and kissing just above your slit. With your hips squirming, he presses a few more kisses in places other than where you yearn for him. And once you’re a whining mess, his tongue darts from his lips, the coral-pink flesh flattening and swiping along your wet folds. A surprised moan flows from your parted lips as your head falls back, your back arching when he continues the same motion. His pointed tongue parts the velvety folds, exploring the valleys and divots, eventually circling the bundle of nerves that begs his attention. 

“Oh, god, Jake–” His name flows from your lips like a sacred mantra, your words pointed to the ceiling while your hand tangles itself in the silky strands of his hair. A muffled groan escapes him, disappearing into your core and pulling a strangled cry from you. His lips close around your aching clit, sucking and performing a pulsing pattern. “Holy shit, just like that!”

A sharp gasp pierces your lungs when you feel his fingers poke at your entrance, two of them sliding into you effortlessly and only enhancing your pleasure. You look down at him, his eyes already on yours, but occasionally glancing at your bare chest, which heaves with every breathless pant. Slowly pumping his fingers, they curl slightly to brush against the spongy flesh, creating a building pressure deep in your gut. Strings of silent curses and fretful moans follow the grinding of your hips, seeking more friction against Jake’s plump lips. 

His free hand comes up to press on your lower belly, pinning you in place while continuing his relentless assault on your swollen clit with his fingers moving in a sweeping motion to pull an orgasm from you. The heat that pools in your abdomen spreads like wildfire, shooting waves of arousal to your core and spreading across Jake’s fingers and lips.

“Keep going,” You cry out as your eyes squeeze shut to prepare for the intense orgasm that builds in your gut, “I’m so close.” 

Just as the beginning pulses of your growing orgasm clench around his fingers, he pulls away, leaving you void of any touch. The indistinct yell of protest that spills from your partially open lips fills the bedroom, and your eyes shoot open to stare at him; a satisfied smirk pulls at his scarlet lips, his hair still bundled into your clenched fist, and your near-release glistens from his lips to his chin, quietly taunting you for what could’ve been. 

“Why’d you stop?” 

“You have to earn it, sweetheart.” He explains like you should’ve already known, leaning away from you and settling himself down on the heels of his feet, kneeling before you. “Lay on your stomach for me.” 

Repositioning yourself with a single huff, you lay snugly against the mattress while he’s out of view. Peering over your shoulder, you observe as he moves up your legs, straddling them and putting just enough weight on them to keep you still. His hands wander over your curves, his calloused fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of your ass. You wait patiently, unsure of his next move.

Smack

You yelp at the sudden stinging sensation on your right cheek, followed by the tender caress of his hand. 

“You have me for three weeks, and yet you still acted like a desperate brat.”

Smack

Jumping at the second spank, he immediately soothes the reddening skin of your left cheek. His voice is laced with forged sincerity as disappointment and built-up dissatisfaction pry through clenched teeth. 

“You said you’d behave, and did you?” He hesitates with his hand displayed in the air, waiting for a response. Shaking your head, he mimics the motion, “Right. That’s what I thought.” 

Smack

The initial pain subsides and is quickly replaced by a sultry feeling in your core, causing your yelps to soften into moans. 

“Did you want to be punished?” Amusement melts from his tongue, and you can almost hear the smug smirk he’s sporting from the tone of his voice, but you nod anyway, a little too earnestly, “Yeah?”

Smack

“Say ‘thank you,’ then.” A shameless moan escapes with a rushed breath, your hips swaying side to side while his hand soothes the heated skin, “Say it.”

“Thank you.” You whine as the unbearable feeling of fervor causes your core to throb. 

Smack

“Again.”

“Thank you, Jake.” You shakily breathe out the repeated phrase, tears stinging your waterline once again from the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Good girl.” He praises you, his hands rubbing gentle circles along the slightly elevated skin that outlines his handprint on each cheek. 

You feel him shift behind you, his weight lifting from your legs, and his hands prying them open to spread, allowing him to kneel between them. His grip rests on your hips, hoisting you up into a bent position with your cheek pressed firmly against the pillow and your ass in the air. He wastes no time freeing his erection from his boxers, pulling the fabric down to his knees and wrapping his digits around the shaft. He pumps his fist absently while gliding the tip between your soaking folds, a small gasp being heard from both of you at the feeling. 

Your breathing halts when he nudges your entrance, his free hand tightening around your hip while he pushes his forward, inching into you at an antagonizing rate. Your walls stretch around the size of his cock and a trembling breath blows from your puckered lips when he bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass. A dragged-out groan carries itself from Jake’s throat when he exhales, the soft rush of his breath cascading along your arched back. Neither of you move, simply relishing in the feeling of your walls squeezing around him, accommodating his impressive size. 

A moment passes before he finally pulls back, inching out of you before sliding back in, pressing firmly with each steady thrust. It doesn’t take long before carefully calculated thrusts morph into consistency, pulling a continuous string of moans from you and choked grunts from him. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice cuts through the incessant smacking of his hips against your ass, “You wanted to be fucked?” When you nod against the pillow, he grunts a noise of disapproval and swats your ass, “Use your words or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck– yes, I did!” 

“Yes, who? Say my fucking name.”

“Yes, Jake!” Crying out, your hands grip the sheets underneath you, grasping for leverage while he picks up the pace, mercilessly pounding into you and holding your hip as support. His free hand grazes along the expanse of your back, tracing your spine and running through the roots of your hair. Flexing his fingers, he gathers your hair between them, pushing you further into the pillows with your head turned, your furrowed eyes glancing back at him. His stomach clenches with every thrust, his chest flushed, the smooth skin mirroring his concentrated face. The sheer force rebuilds that familiar sensation in your core, and your knuckles turn white from the strength of your hold on the sheets, “Faster, please, I’m so close!”

“Nah, you asked for this, sweetheart,” His pace remains the same, not quite hitting the mark you desperately need to make to capture your release, “Take your punishment like the needy little brat you are.”

“Come on, Jake.” You groan, feeling discouraged when you feel his hand leave your hip, only down-turning his thrusts. 

Smack 

“Fuck!” Taken by surprise, your hips squirm against him while the stinging pain simmers into dullness with the gentle stroke of his hand. “What was that for?” 

“Talking back. Want me to do it again?” 

“No!” You protest, “Please, just let me come. I’ll behave!”

“Hmmm.” He considers your request, but ultimately declines, shaking his head with torment on his tongue, “Not until I say so. I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.” With that, he swiftly pulls out, the sudden absence pulling a choked cry from you. A second denial dissipates the boiling heat in your lower abdomen, and your legs tremble when he flips you over to lay on your back. He’s quick to move between your spread legs, his erection probing at your entrance in an instant, and immediately sinking into your aching cunt. An appreciative whimper catches in your throat when you feel full again, your hands coming up to grasp his bare waist as his arms cage you in.

There’s no easing into the new position as he instantly matches his previous pace, the upward twitching of his cock now brushing against the sensitive flesh of your fluttering walls. Your fingertips sink into the pliable flesh while your legs wrap around his waist, creating a new and deeper angle for him. 

“Oh, my God!” For the third time, your climax climbs to its very peak, yet it still doesn’t bubble over.

“You wanted this, right? Wanted me to fuck you senseless until you’re a fucking mess?” His voice is strained, reflecting his heightened exhaustion as his eyes bore into yours. You can’t respond while enervated sighs pry past your parted lips, your eyes threatening to close in concentration. “Answer me.” One of the hands supporting his weight grips your jaw, keeping your attention on him, and only him.

“Yes, I wanted this,” Breathing out, your brows scrunch, and your jaw falls slack when you feel the slow pulsing of your cunt around his erection. 

“Say it louder.” He’s grunting uncontrollably now, the sound melodic as your hands progress up his back, your nails digging small divots into the flesh. 

“I wanted this!” The pitch of your voice is high and wavering with the vigorousness of his hips pounding against yours, creating a dull ache in them. 

“Poor thing– can barely fucking talk.” His words are slurred as he visibly struggles to maintain his velocity, and if you aren’t mistaken, you’d think he was talking about himself, “What happened to all that attitude, hm?” Still there.

“S’gone.” 

“You think you earned it?” He asks, referencing the release you can both feel pulsing within your core. Rushes of arousal coat his cock, allowing him to move quicker, more thoroughly, and you nod frantically at his question, “Yeah? Ask for it. Use your words.”

“Please, Jake, just let me come.”

“Ah- ask for it, sweetheart.” He corrects you, nearly causing you to whine pathetically out of protest and pure desperation. You’re so close to what you’ve been begging for since before leaving for Josh’s get-together, and you’re practically shaking with anticipation when you give him what he’s demanding.

“Can–” Your voice comes out in a meek tone when speaking, diffidence halting your words, “Can I come?” But, you don’t care, because you only have one goal– finish. You’d continue to beg all night if you had to. 

“Good girl.” The praise rolls off his tongue effortlessly, like music to your ears, “Go ahead, come on my cock.” 

His allowance encourages the climbing peak to fall over the ledge, the intense heat spreading like lava through your clenched limbs. The deafening sounds of your cries and moans are muffled while your cunt uncontrollably spasms around his cock, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“Hey–” The hand that still grips your chin inches down to your throat, squeezing lightly to keep your focus on him, “Eyes on me while you come– That’s right.” 

The remainder of your orgasm squeezes his erection in a pulsing pattern that slows gradually and your breathless moans morph into heavy pants. His eyes melt into yours, his pupils blown while he examines your writhing body and the sweet whimpers that dance on your tongue. Chasing his release, Jake maintains his momentum, silent curses intertwining between the forced grunts as he keeps his hold on your neck. Bringing a hand to his, your fingers wrap around his wrist, encouraging him to stay there as you grin, holding strong eye contact, “Come inside me.”

“F-fuck.” He nearly collapses when the hushed words leave your lips and you feel the frantic twitching of his cock, coating your walls with his cum. Wide eyes hold yours while he lazily grinds into you, his stomach flexing with each spurt of cum, now leaking out of you and spilling onto the sheets below you. His appearance is purely erotic; his eyebrows furrowed as his jaw stays agape, strands of hair sticking to his sweat-sheened skin, while letting out choked whines that catch in his throat. His breathing mimics yours; chest heaving and lips drying from rushed breaths. 

His hips sputter the final waves of his orgasm with a shuttered breath landing on your relaxed features. His movements slow to a halt, the only feeling left now being the subtle throbbing of his softening cock and your fucked-out cunt. 

Staying inside you, he leans down and brushes his lips against yours in a light sweeping manner before placing a gentle kiss upon them. You hum at the tenderness, your eyes fluttering close when your lips move fluidly against his. It dawns on you that it’s the first time he’s kissed you since coming home; a sign of affection you weren’t aware you missed until now. Pulling away, he peppers kisses along your jawline and down the side of your neck, moving lower to repeat the action on your bare shoulder and collarbone.

Letting go of your neck, he sits back, hesitantly pulling out of you and watching as your mixed releases rush from your aching entrance. He’s in awe, his tongue darting from his mouth to wet his bottom lip as his eyes zero in on the profane view. 

“Let me clean you up.” He offers while climbing off the bed, pulling his boxers up, and stepping out of his jeans. Disappearing for a few moments, you hear shuffling in the en-suite bathroom, making you move into a sit-up position in bed. 

~~~~~

The warm water washes away the tension that had built a home in your muscles from your after-dinner escapades with Jake. While curled into a ball, the decent-sized bathtub allows you to sit between his legs as he cups water into his hands, letting the soapy liquid flow over your shoulders. 

“Tilt your head back.” The tenderness has returned to his voice, and you follow his instruction, letting your head fall back as he washes away the shampoo in your hair. His touch is careful, sweeping away the soaked strands of hair from your shoulder to press a firm kiss to the warm skin. “You did so well tonight.” 

You hum in response, your eyes closing and head rolling as he runs his hands along your shoulders, kneading away the tightness within them. His thumbs dig into the firm flesh, but he presses kisses along the sore skin to distract from the faint ache in your muscles. 

When he’s finished, he hooks an arm over your chest, pulling you against him to lean further back. Your head rests just below his chin, and you smile when you feel his lips press into your scalp, pushing a kiss into the wet hair. His demeanor has done another 180, completely differentiating from who he was just minutes ago. 

“You gonna behave from now on?” He asks, already knowing the answer. If it got you this, there was no way you would ever behave, and he knows that. But, there’s no fun in admitting that.

“We’ll see.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Phew, rough!Jake did a number on me, so I'm sorry for the delay in posting! Which is mostly a result of Tumblr crashing on my phone. Anywho! As always, I hope you enjoyed. I'm overdue for a sweet!Jake one shot... Perhaps that'll be next.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Tags:

[sirjaketkiszka]

Hey yall!! Just a heads up, I’ll be going on vacation all next week so I’m using this week to release as much writing as possible. So far, I’m going to be releasing Attitude Adjustment: A Jake Kiszka One Shot tonight, then Silver Springs: Chapter Five and It’s a Sin: Chapter Two sometime this week. Much love!!

[sirjaketkiszka]

18+ minors dni, please.

Warnings available on each post.

Enjoy ;)

.・。.・゜✭・🤍・✫・゜・。.

Full-Length Fics

* - In Progress

Silver Springs Masterpost*

Playlist

It’s a Sin Masterpost*

Playlist

One Shots

Frustration: A Jake Kiszka One Shot

Party Planning: A Jake Kiszka One Shot

Talk to Me: A Jake Kiszka One Shot

Twenty Minutes: A Jake Kiszka One Shot

Stand Guard: A Jake Kiszka One Shot

Jealous: A Jake Kiszka One Shot

Attitude Adjustment: A Jake Kiszka One Shot

Confessions: A Jake Kiszka One Shot (coming soon…)

Jake Kiszka One Shots Masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・⚔️・✫・゜・。.

One Shots

Welcome Home: A Josh Kiszka One Shot

Just Friends: A Josh Kiszka One Shot

Teeth Marks: A Josh Kiszka One Shot

Anything You Want: A Josh Kiszka One Shot (coming soon…)

Josh Kiszka One Shots Masterpost (coming soon)

.・。.・゜✭・⭐️・✫・゜・。.

[sirjaketkiszka]

Movies

★・・・・・・★

This is how it feels to be in love, This is life from above

or a short boyfriend josh x fem reader

Word Count: 3,295

WARNINGS: SMUT!! 18+ ONLY! Oral (male receiving), dry humping, unprotected PIV sex (wrap it before you tap it i guess), sub!josh/switch!josh, handcuffs, a little bit of denial?, if i’m missing anything let me know!

a/n: okay it’s short and probably mediocre, but i’ve been so extremely busy lately. paper bag ch 4 is OTW! i am nearly done, i promise.

★・・・・・・★

You press your body flush against him, relishing the soft whimpers muffled by your clashing lips. His hands roam against the expanse of your back, gripping the soft flesh needily. Your head is spinning, intoxicated by nothing but Josh. Every facet of him was invading your senses; the feel of his hands, the smell of his cologne, the sweet noises you were managing to elicit from your position above him. He ground his hips up, pushing his hard-on against you in a desperate attempt to feel any sort of friction. You were seconds away from giving in, unbuttoning his jeans and touching him only the way you were allowed to; the way that would have had him whining beautifully underneath you.

Too bad you didn’t have enough time.

You were cut off by the shrill sound of a phone ringing beside you, the ringtone you had specifically set for Jake– Josh’s twin brother. Reluctantly pulling away from Josh, who was quick to try and tug you back to him, you answered the phone with an exasperated huff.

“Hello?” You breathe, trying your best to sound calm and collected.

“Where the fuck are you guys? We’ve been banging on the door for ten minutes,” Jake chuckled, not sounding the least bit irritated at your lack of awareness and hospitality.

“Fuck,” you mumble, turning to Josh. Eyes blown, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair in disarray– he was truly a sight to behold. “Be there in a second.” You hang up before Jake can respond, tossing the phone on the bed so hard it tumbles to the ground with a thunk.

“They’re here.”

“Who?” Josh pants, still greedily exploring your body.

“Your brothers,” you grumbled, pushing off of Josh.

“Huh?” He hums, not entirely focused on the words coming out of your mouth.

“Movie night,” you explain, reminding him of the event he scheduled earlier in the day. You glance in the mirror for a moment, fixing your hair to the best of your ability. You turn to face Josh, drinking in his disheveled appearance, “Better fix yourself up, sweet boy,” you warn, all too aware of how relentlessly his brother’s would tease him if they saw him like this.

“Tell them to go away,” Josh complains, propping himself up on his elbows, “C’mon, I- I’ve been so good, I just wanna touch you.”

“Sorry, angel, you're the one who invited them.” You ignore him, racing to the front of your apartment to let your somewhat unwelcome guests in. bc

Sam is still banging against the door when you tear it open, grinning from ear to ear when he spots you.

“Fucking finally,” he laughs, “What took you so long?”

“Um, got caught up doing something,” you mumble, glancing behind you to spot Josh sauntering in.

“Yeah, there’s something right there,” Danny teases, eyeing Josh.

Jake shoves in, rolling his eyes and tossing a pizza down onto your coffee table. He plops down on the couch, grabbing the remote so assuredly it was like he owned the place; he nearly did with the amount of time he spent over here.

“Have a seat,” You sigh sarcastically, shooting an apologetic glance over to Josh.

Not like you have any reason to feel bad, he was the one who invited them earlier. But he was also right– he had been good, he always was. He did deserve a reward, for you to make him feel good.

Although, you did enjoy the idea of watching him squirm all night.

“Decide on a movie?” You ask casually, sitting down in the squished armchair next to Josh. His breath hitches at the sudden contact, tensing almost immediately.

“Nope,” Jake answers, popping the “p”.

“He wants to watch The Princess Bride again,” Sam grumbles.

“No way, we’ve seen that a million times,” Danny complains.

You let their banter fade into background noise, knowing full well neither you or Josh were capable of paying any sort of attention to a movie right now. He turns to face you, his face neary pained as he studies your features.

“Sorry,” you frown teasingly, running your hand gently up and down his arm.

He clears his throat nervously, goosebumps prickling his skin where you were touching.

“That sound good guys?” Jake’s voice snaps you back to reality.

“Huh?” Josh coughs, eyes darting around the room anxiously.

“Treasure Island.”

“Y-yeah, sounds fine.”

Jake laughs, flicking the pizza box open and pressing play on the movie. Truthfully, it didn’t matter what movie was playing. Your eyes were squarely on Josh’s face, while his were glazed over in his attempt to pay attention to the screen.

Maybe it was fucked up, thinking about him like this when his brothers were sitting only two feet away. Images of pinning him under you, handcuffing him to the headboard. Denying him release just to hear him beg for what he wants in his sweet, lilting voice. Driving him crazy, refusing to let him touch you when that’s the only thing he ever really wants. It was so easy to work him up, to have him melting in your hands.

The movie continued to play, enrapturing the attention of your now fully unwelcome houseguests. Josh shifted subtly, pressing the throw pillow he had been clenching against his crotch in an extremely non-conspicuous manner.

“You okay?” You whisper lovingly, trying not to garner too much attention.

“Hm? Yeah, fine,” he strains, shifting against you once again.

“You sure? You look a little…” You trail off teasingly, scratching your nails against his arm.

“No, m’good,” his voice cracks, betraying his true feelings.

“Poor baby,” you coo, leaning your head onto his shoulder. His breath hitches, and he closes his eyes, cursing softly under his breath.

Scenes flash on the screen but it didn’t matter to either of you. Sam talked loudly over the movie, earning annoyed groans from both Jake and Danny, yet neither of you seemed to care. The pizza dwindled away, but food was the last thing on your mind.

No, all you cared about in this moment was Josh; touching him, kissing him, worshiping him. And you could tell that was the only thing on his mind too. The way his chest heaved, his cheeks flushed, the way he chewed his perfect bottom lip; he was so far gone you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him.

What felt like an eternity later, the movie was over and the guys were clamoring to start another.

“No!” Josh shouts, surprising nearly everyone.

They all turn to face him, faces expressing a mixture of worry and shock.

“Sorry, I just- I mean- stomachache,” He stammers, eyes downcast to the floor.

“You okay, man?” Jake asked, laughing tentatively.

“He’s fine.” You rub his back soothingly, playing up the bit, “We ate at that one place earlier, I think the chicken had gone bad,” you explain, pulling on the memory you had of Jake locking himself up in the bathroom for twenty four hours after eating at a specific restaurant downtown.

“Oh, yikes.” Jake scratches his face, brows furrowed in concern, “Well… feel better man.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him,” you assure, glancing at Josh’s pouty face.

“Sure you will.” Sam rolls his eyes, standing up with a grunt and stretching dramatically, “We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Hope you feel better, Josh!” Danny shouts over Sam’s shoulder as they begin shoving out the door. Jake scoffs, shooting the two of you a more than knowing look.

Once the door clicks shut it’s impressive how quickly Josh is latching on to you. His hands clutching your sides, his mouth pressing hurried kisses to your neck.

“Please-” He chokes out, his voice cracking.

You shush him, petting his hair in an attempt to calm him down. You loved giving Josh what he wanted— he was more than deserving most of the time. Truly, all he wanted was to please you. But a tiny part of you, one that you tried to keep at bay, reveled in denying him. In refusing his wishes to touch you, kiss you, make you feel good.

He grabs your hand, tugging you towards the bedroom and a little voice in your brain reminds you of a certain object you had stowed away in a shoebox under your bed. A pair of handcuffs that you had initially bought as a joke— before you realized just how much you got off on using them on Josh.

You follow behind, letting him have his moment, letting him think that finally he was going to get the release his body had been screaming for all night.

He pulls you onto the bed, lips desperately seeking out your own as the two of you crash together in a heap of tangled limbs. His touch is urgent, exploring every dip and curve of your body like he had never touched you before. You pull back, breathless and flushed.

“Get the cuffs.”

His face falls, a pout gracing his perfect features, “Why?”

You stare at him silently, trying your best to appear firm and demanding. It was never easy with him.

“Because I said so.”

“But…” He’s fully frowning now, obviously hurt that you’re adding yet another obstacle separating the two of you, “I just… Mama, please, let me make you feel good. You know it’s all I wanna do.”

“I know, angel,” you hum, running your hands through his curls, “Don’t you trust me?”

He nods, still frowning, still silently refusing to do what you asked. You press a gentle kiss to his forehead, drinking in the sweet whine that slips past his swollen lips. He hesitates, but slowly lifts off the bed, reaching underneath and then pulling out the orange shoebox. He flips open the lid, revealing a wide array of toys, before pulling out the silvery handcuffs.

“Good boy,” you praise as he hands you the cuffs. He can act like he doesn’t want to wear them all he wants, but the way he’s straining against his jeans… you knew him too well to accept that this wasn’t something he wanted, “Do you remember our safe word?” You whisper, smiling when he nods enthusiastically.

“Undress for me, sweet boy.”

He rips off his clothes in record time, leaving only his boxers on and tossing the others into a random corner of your shared room. He lays down without question, lifting his hands up to the baseboard— he was familiar with this routine.

You crawl up his body slowly, tantalizingly, peppering kisses along the bare expanse of his torso. You shift into a sitting position, leaning over and clicking the cuffs loosely against his wrists. He tugs them once, showing you that he’s fully locked up. You shimmy down his body once more, lining your face up with clothed crotch. You press a kiss to the painfully obvious bulge that’s straining against his black boxers.

His hips buck up so hard he slams into your face, quickly muttering out an apology as he relentlessly grinds against nothing in a desperate attempt to feel any sort of relief.

“God… p- please touch me.”

“I am touching you,” You mumble, running your hands along his body, finally halting at the waistband of his boxers.

“You know what I mean,” he whines, staring at you so intently you suddenly feel embarrassed.

“Nuh uh.” You shake your head, “Use your words, angel.”

“Please, don’t make me say it.”

You roll your eyes, sliding the boxers down his legs slowly. Your mouth nearly starts to water when he springs from the confines he had been straining against all day. Precum is already leaking from his painfully red tip, spreading against his bare skin.

You lean down, maintaining eye contact as you lick slowly up the length of his cock. He inhales sharply, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood from the looks of it. He holds the breath, watching as you take him fully into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him.

His hips instinctively force themselves up, causing you to gag roughly around him. A string of barely audible apologies slip past his beautiful lips, as he strains against the cuffs, angry red indents sure to appear on his wrists if he kept up like this. Your eyes water, tears threatening to spill past your waterline. Usually, you’d punish him for this, but you figured he had been through enough today. After all, he was being good.

Lilting whimpers fill the empty room, sending heat straight to your aching core. You grind your hips against the mattress, desperate for anything, anything that would hold you over while you continued to work Josh up. Just the thought of finally feeling him after waiting all day was enough to make you moan around him.

“F-fuck,” he whined, pulling so hard against the cheap cuffs you were sure they’d snap in two, “I’m gonna cum if you keep that up.”

You pull off with a pop, wiping the spit from your mouth, your cheeks tinged pink and your eyes watering. His dick slaps audibly against his stomach, earning another moan from him. Pulling your shirt off slowly, maintaining eye contact, you finally reveal the lacy red bra you had been dying to show him all day. He groaned at the sight, his hands grasping at the air in front of them as he silently begged to touch you.

“Been waiting all day to show you this… bought it just for you.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

You stand up, shimmying your pants down at a tantalizing speed, making sure he fully took in the matching pair of panties. He stifles another delicious noise, practically humping the air. God, he was so pathetically desperate, and it was getting harder to keep up your act. All you wanted to do was give him exactly what he wanted. You bend down, giving him a clear shot of your ass as you find the keys for the cuffs.

Striding over to him with a grin, you slip the key into the lock, letting him free. He sighs happily, hands immediately pulling you in as he presses kisses to the exposed skin of your chest.

“Thank you,” he practically pants, his hands greedily tugging at you.

“Of course, angel,” you coo, sliding your hands into his curls, “you’ve been so good today.”

He smiles warmly at your praise, staring up at you sweetly. You slowly pull away from him, drinking in his dejected huff as you take away the one thing he had been begging for all day.

It wasn’t long before he was gripping at you again, his hands flying to your waist as you straddle his body. His chest heaved, the skin flushed pink. You nearly collided into him at the speed he tugged you down, your lips crashing together in his needy attempt to feel all of you.

His hands slid up your back, undoing the clasp of your bra and throwing into a dejected corner of the room. Your panties were next, torn with his clumsy attempt to rip them off.

“Those were expensive.” You pull back, pouting as you stare at the ripped pair of lacy underwear.

“I’ll buy you a new pair, I’ll buy you twenty new pairs, I don’t care,” he breathes, trying to tug you back down. He leans up, trying to catch you in kiss, and you grant him a chaste one, before pulling away.

You lift your hips up, using the hand that wasn’t holding you up to grab his dick, lining it up with your entrance. You slide it through your folds, enjoying the way his breath hitches at the feel of your wetness smearing against the tip.

“Jesus, fuck, holy—” A string of whines and expletives spew out from Josh as you slowly sink down, feeling him stretch you out. No matter how often you had him like this, you could never fully get used to how overwhelmingly large he was. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his as you breathe, trying to adjust to his size.

“You okay?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of your face.

“Mhm.” You nod, inhaling deeply.

This is how it always happened. You tried to act tough, act like you were in charge. Would spend so long riling him up, pretending like you were in total control. Yet the second Josh really touched you, the moment he was inside you, it’s like your brain went empty. All you could think about was him. You felt… the only way to describe it was stupid. Dumb. Drunk on nothing but him.

“Want me to move?”

You nod again, not trusting your own voice.

He gently grabs your hips, slowly bringing you up, grinning when you gasp at the sensation.

How quickly the two of you had switched, how fast the dynamic changed, it always left your head spinning.

He lifts up into you, paying close attention to your facial features, always worried he’d hurt you. Once he had deemed it safe— and judging by the lazy grin that had plastered itself on your face it was— he decided to move again, picking up his pace ever so slightly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, whining as he begins to pound upwards into you.

He decided he was tired of this game, finally flipping you over and taking what he wants. With him pinning you down this time, you take this opportunity to use what little power you have left by locking your legs behind him, forcing him in even deeper.

“Christ, you- so fucking good,” is all he can manage as he continues to thrust sloppily, his hands roving every curve and dip of your body. Eventually the rest on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh a little too roughly. He bends down, catching you in a rushed kiss that cuts off the near constant stream of whines and moans he was forcing out of you. He leaves a trail of hurried, wet kisses down your neck, biting and nipping his own marks into the sensitive skin. Leaning back up, he glances down at his work, a wide array of pink and purple blooms appearing on your skin— matching the now bruised circumference of his wrists. Your nails dig into his back, scratching so hard he winces, stalling inside you.

“Fucking hell, so close,” he rasps, his hand snaking down to rub quick circles on your clit. The added pressure makes your head spin. You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to keep them open no matter how badly you want to take in his fucked out expression.

“Me too,” you choke out, chanting his name like a prayer as he continues his motions, every nerve of your body craving him like a drug.

You feel the pressure in your stomach build up, threatening to push you right over the edge any moment. Josh can tell too, the way you begin to absentmindedly squeeze around him making his movements even sloppier. Eventually you fall, screaming his name loud enough that even the neighbors three doors down could’ve heard it. He works you through it, faltering ever so slightly as he begins to reach his own climax.

“Where do you want me to-” he begins, trying his best to keep moving.

You keep your legs locked around him, pulling him in closer, “Inside.”

A strangled noise tears through him as he cums inside you, the feeling causing you to shake a bit. He flops down on top of you, gasping for air.

“Maybe we should invite your brothers over movie nights more often,” you suggest, an intoxicated giggle playing on your lips as you stroke his back to calm him down.

“Yeah… maybe we should.”

[sirjaketkiszka]

Josh Kiszka One Shot: Just Friends

You share an embarrassing secret with Josh. Turns out, he shares the same one.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,253

Warnings: 18+!!, sexual content, cursing, mutual loss of virginity, slight dirty talking, kissing, dry humping/grinding, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, oral m!receiving, swallowing, and, of course, mediocre writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The slight chill in the early summer air causes goosebumps to pepper your bare arms and legs, making your hands subconsciously rub the textured skin. You and Josh retreated to the backyard when Jake’s end-of-the-school-year party got too overwhelming, but a majority of the company had vanished by now. The previous music coming from the house is no longer playing, and the cars that littered the streets have all pulled away.

Golden and blush pink hues paint the skies like rough brush strokes, and minuscule twinkles of surfacing stars shine through the fading clouds. You could stare at the sun-setting sky for hours, but the brisk wind sends a chill up your spine and you grow noticeably uncomfortable.

“Want my jacket?” Josh asks, his head turned toward you as yours cranes upward to the scene above you. His soft voice pulls you to look at him, and you can tell by the way the tip of his nose sports a gentle shade of pink that he’s also cold.

“I’m okay,” You dismiss his question, hoping he’ll leave it alone.

“Please, just take it,” He insists, his hands finding the bottom hem of his oversized hoodie and lifting it above his head, “You know I run hot anyway.” He winks, handing you the bundle of warm fabric. You know his statement is a lie to get you to accept the jacket, but you also know he won’t let the topic go until he gets his way.

“Thank you,” Mumbling under your breath, you slip your arms through the sleeves and allow the fabric to fall over your shoulders and cover your torso. Immediately, your senses are flooded with his rich and comforting scent. Notes of cinnamon, firewood smoke, and the faint smell of weed intertwine themselves in the carefully woven wool of the Baja hoodie.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, and the light breeze creates a soft woosh sound; a product of the branches on bordering trees brushing up against each other. The bonfire before you dissipates into a low amber glow, the quiet crackles indicating its last leg. You know it’s time to head back, but just by glancing over to the house, you can tell that Jake is cleaning up and he’ll ask for help the moment you two walk inside.

“So,” Josh’s voice turns your head back to him, “Did you enjoy your first year of college?”

“Um,” You hesitate, giving the question some thought, “Yeah, I did.” Though the tone of your voice says otherwise, and Josh, of course, notices. As a form of comfort, you bring your thumbnail to your parted lips, anxiously nibbling on it while you zone out.

“That wasn’t convincing at all,” Josh chuckles while leaning over and gently wrapping his long fingers around your wrist, stopping you from chewing your nail off. This time, you really look at him; concern is reflected in his furrowed brows, his eyes searching your face for any indication of the truth, “What’s wrong?”

One thing is for certain, Josh always knows when you are upset. It sometimes feels like he knows you better than you know yourself, which can get a little annoying, especially when you prefer to process certain things privately. Although, with being friends since elementary school, his accurate reading of your emotions is a given.

“Well, I guess I expected more,” You shrug, avoiding the real reason.

“Like what?” He pushes, and your pulse begins to climb under his interrogating stare as he’s nearly falling out of his seat, quite literally on the edge of it. If you tell him you don’t want to talk about it, he will let it go, but another part of you wants to tell him.

“I just– Ugh,” You groan, the words proving hard to form because of how embarrassed you feel by them, “I expected more male attention.” Your words are rushed, your eyes diverting from his softening gaze. God, you hate when he pities you.

“Oh,” His lack of response surprises you, and you can’t help but notice the subtle disappointment laced in his features, “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” A frustrated huff exhales from you, and you slump in the uncomfortable lawn chair, “A relationship maybe– my first relationship.”

“Well, you know, the right person will–”

“And my first time,” You blurt out. Both yours and Josh’s eyes widen at your admission and, of course, you panic and continue, “I know we don’t talk about our sex lives with each other, but I thought maybe I would’ve lost it by now.” You feel so juvenile avoiding the word virginity, but you can’t help it, and you’re afraid of any potential nearby listeners.

“It’s perfectly normal to wait,” He soothes, and you only now realize that his hand is still wrapped around your limp wrist, absently rubbing small circles on your smooth skin with his thumb.

“I know, but… I don’t want to,” You sigh, feeling as though a weight’s been lifted off of you, and now you can openly express your disappointment, “I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, but I am, and part of me does want to wait for the ‘right’ person, but another wants to just get it over with, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” He sits back in his chair, releasing your wrist and resting his hands on the chair’s armrests, “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t done it either.”

“Wait, really?” You sit up a little, and he smirks at your enthusiasm. When you think about it, Josh hasn’t ever dated anyone long enough to get to that point, so it should make sense, yet you still assumed he lost it somewhere along the way. You’re not entirely sure why you’re so relieved to hear that he’s still a virgin, like you, but you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t sound so excited,” He laughs, his head thrown back and perfect teeth flashing.

“I’m not!” You giggle, “Just surprised, that’s all.”

“I guess I’m just waiting for the right person,” He shrugs, resting his head on the back of his chair and staring up at the darkening sky. The previously colorful shades morph into a jet-black sky, and the stars freckle the dark backdrop. The temperature will only lower from this point on, and when you take another glance at the house, there’s no more movement, just the soft glow of the television from the living room. “Hey, what if–” Josh breaks the brief moment of silence, and you’re eager to hear his thoughts, “Never mind.”

“What if what?” You urge, fully sitting up in your seat.

“It’s nothing,” He shakes his head, brushing you off.

“Oh c’mon, Josh,” You nearly whine, curiosity getting the best of you. You have an inkling of what he might say, but then again, the idea is ridiculous. Absurd, even. He’d never suggest a thing like that.

“I was going to say we could… you know… together,” Oh, he would suggest it, apparently. He glances over at you, then away, his voice hardly a whisper by the end of his sentence, and you’re left speechless, “It’s stupid, I know. I thought maybe because we’re best friends that it wouldn’t be so weird, but I can see now that it is weird, so let’s ignore–”

“Okay.” You cut him off, his lips sealing and eyes holding yours.

“Okay… let’s ignore it?” He asks.

“No, okay as in ‘let’s do it’,” You explain, and his jaw nearly drops, “If you’re okay with it, and I’m okay with it, what’s the harm?”

“I–” He pauses, “That’s true. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You respond confidently, “Are you sure? We totally don’t have to.”

“No, no, I want to,” He rushes out, and you have to fight back the smile that threatens to pull at your lips.

“So,” You drag out the word, feeling a little awkward, “When should we…?”

“Oh! Um,” He looks around and takes note of the empty house, all prior company is suddenly gone and the street is empty, “We could do it now?”

“Like now, now?”

“Unless you don’t want to!”

“No, let’s go,” You say, nodding your head toward the house and getting up. His gaze follows you, his eyes locked on yours as he gets up from his chair. The fire has dwindled into nothing but smoking ashes, and the only light that guides your way is the dimly lit back porch light. Your footsteps create quiet thuds into the overgrown grass, and you try to be courteous while climbing up the steps to the sliding door. Josh follows closely behind you, letting you walk in first, and you both remove your shoes by the door.

The kitchen is surprisingly clean– you almost can’t tell that there had been a party just over an hour ago. The rest of the house is eerily quiet, but the muffled sound of the living room TV carries into the kitchen, and you both have to walk through the room to get to the stairs. When you peer into the living room, Jake is sprawled out on the couch, clicking through channels and sipping on his last drink of the night.

“Hey, guys, I was wondering when you’d come inside,” He greets you and his twin, although he doesn’t look away from the TV.

“Hey, Jake,” Josh steps in front of you, addressing his twin, “We’re going to go watch a movie in my room, let us know if it gets too loud.”

On any other day, that would be a normal thing for the two of you, but tonight, it feels very different. It isn’t out of the ordinary for you to stay late and watch movies with Josh, but it is out of the ordinary to lie about what you were actually going to do, and somehow, you feel like Jake knows. He couldn't possibly know, but your conscience says otherwise.

“No worries,” Jake mutters into his cup, taking a sip and finally settling on a channel to his liking.

Josh motions for you to follow him, walking past the TV and up the stairs. Your pulse pounds in your ears the closer you get to Josh’s room, and you swallow down the anxious lump in your throat when he opens the door for you, allowing you to walk in first and lock the door behind you. You’ve been in his room plenty of times, but again, this is under different circumstances.

He rushes past you and slips a random DVD into his small TV, turning the volume up considerably loud. When he turns to face you, a nervous smile is on his lips, and you’re sure your expression is mirroring his. Was this a good idea? Only one way to find out.

Taking a seat on the bottom edge of his twin-sized bed, you pat the empty spot next to you, urging him to sit down. He moves quickly, sitting beside you and turning to look at you. His eyes frantically search your features, and yours do the same, taking in his appearance; his face is slightly flushed, and his shoulders show how deeply he’s breathing, slowly rising and slowly falling.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice coming out in barely a whisper.

“Yes,” The single word comes out in a quick huff, and only now do you realize how you’ve been holding your breath, anticipation prickling up your spine. Josh’s eyes zero in on your lips, his upper body leaning toward you, gravitating your own to him. Through parted lips, quick breaths exit the both of you, brushing against each other when you get closer, and eventually collide.

With eyes fluttering close, his lips are plush and perfectly molded against yours. The feeling is foreign, but a feeling you wholeheartedly welcome. Only a fleeting moment passes before your lips move fluidly with his, causing heat to rise to your neck and settle in your scarlet cheeks. Desperate for his touch, your hand reaches for his, guiding him underneath his sweatshirt that you’re still wearing, and allowing his fingers to glide along your bare waist. Your stomach clenches and a small gasp is pulled from you when his hand slides up your ribs and settles just below the cup of your bra, gripping the heated flesh slightly.

Pulling away, your eyes peel open to hold his gaze; his pupils are blown, his irises nearly pitch black, and his plump lips are a shiny maroon. Soft pants leave the both of you, eyes wide and yearning for more.

“Are we really doing this?” He asks, breathless, his brows scrunching in disbelief.

“I don’t want to stop,” You admit, your hand on his caressing reassuringly.

“Neither do I,” He says with a smile, flashing the gap between his teeth. You always love it when it shows through his toothy grin, a result of his goofy laugh or pure excitement. From now on, you will think of this moment, and that thought scares you, but yet, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Good,” You smirk, pulling away from him while backing up fully onto his bed, only stopping when your head hovers above his pillows. He remains at the end of the bed with his hand that was once on your skin subconsciously reaching out to you. “Come here,” You instruct him.

He turns over to crawl up the bed, his eyes bouncing from yours to your opening legs when he gets closer. Inching over your body, his hips lay snug against yours, and you hold back the surprised moan that settles in your throat when you feel his growing bulge against your core. He wastes no time placing his lips on yours again, letting his arms hold himself up on either side of your head, caging you in.

Your legs lazily tangle with his, your hands coming up to grip his clothed waist. This kiss is unlike the last; it’s fervent, hungry, and urgent. His breathing is heavy through his nose, and your small whimpers travel into his haste kisses while he absently grinds into you. Heat pools in your core when his bulge massages your aching clit, causing whimpers to mix with needy moans, and rough grunts to catch in the back of Josh’s throat, muffled by the kiss.

Moving his hips faster, your mouth opens to let out a moan, but his tongue swipes against yours, silencing you. The simultaneous sensation of him grinding into you and his tongue clashing with yours dulls your senses, drowning out the blaring sound of the movie playing, making you dizzy. If you found his scent comforting, his taste is all the same; smokey, cinnamon, and just Josh.

Pressing a final peck to your partially open lips, he travels down your chin to your jawline, leaving open-mouth kisses along your jawbone. Breathless moans consistently brush past your parted lips as he moves to your neck, your head tilting to allow him better access. Traveling up from his waist, one of your hands rests on the back of his neck, intertwining his braided rat tail between your fingers. He gently sucks on the sensitive skin below your ear, making sure to pull away before leaving a mark of any sort.

“Can I try something?” His words are broken up between gentle pecks, slightly muffled by the crook of your neck. When he pulls away, you nod eagerly, watching him sit back on the heels of his feet and gripping the bottom of your hoodie. Sitting up slightly, you let him lift the garment off of you, leaving you in just your tank top and shorts. A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips, his eyes shamelessly admiring your flushed state, heavily breathing with legs spread open for him. “May I?” He asks, sliding his hands up your bare thighs, inching up the rough fabric of your denim jeans, and stopping just where the button and zipper are.

Nodding again, he unbuttons your shorts and slowly unzips them, his fingers hooking into the waistband and tugging gently. You lift your hips, allowing him to slide the fabric over your ass and hips, and down your legs. He tosses the shorts somewhere behind him, his focus solely on your clothed cunt. His jaw is slack, his tongue swiping along his lower lip as fingers trace the hem of your underwear.

You silently thank your past self for choosing such cute underwear; a simple black cotton pair with a lace waistband. If only you knew how handy it would become. His eyes flick up to yours, “Can I take them off?” His voice oozes with tenderness, though there’s a slight tremble, telling you that he’s just as nervous as you are. The thought oddly soothes you, reminding you that this is his first time too.

“Please,” You beg, slowly nodding and swallowing back the nerves that come with being completely exposed to him. You figure the anxiousness would be worse had you agreed to do this with someone you don’t know as well as Josh, and the closer you get to the real thing, the more eager you are. He removes your underwear at a tantalizing pace, the stretchy fabric sliding over the hills of your ass when you lift your hips, and peeling off your wet slit. If your face could get any hotter, you’re sure your cheeks are dark maroon, and you fight the urge to close your legs when he nearly stops breathing at the sight of you.

“So beautiful,” He mumbles to himself, and barely audible enough for you to hear. Your hands fidget with the sheets on either side of you, and you watch as he leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to your bent knee, and then to the other. He takes his time alternating between legs, leaving gentle kisses along your thighs as he repositions himself to lay on his stomach, his head just inches from where you want him. Feeling his soft breaths cascade on your soaked cunt, you fight the urge to grind your hips upward, desperate for relief of any sort.

Thankfully, he takes the hint, likely noticing your restraint and near lack thereof. His hands press on your inner thighs, prompting you to spread them wider, and he holds you there. Leaning forward, he presses a light kiss on your clit and your hips writhe at the simple gesture. If that can get you worked up, you aren’t prepared for what’s next.

He places another kiss, firmer this time, and a moan carries itself out with the shaky exhale you release. Just when you think you can’t take the teasing any longer, Josh swipes his tongue along your slit, and your back arches at the foreign feeling. If this felt otherworldly, how did actual sex feel? More swipes of his tongue pull incoherent words from you, mumbled between desperate whines and surprised gasps. Low hums vibrate his tongue, and his hips absentmindedly grind into his mattress, his eyes closed and eyebrows synched while he tastes you.

“Oh my, God,” You breathe out, feeling the warmth erupt in your lower abdomen and send waves of pleasure straight to your core, “You’re so good,” Encouraging words elicit him to flick his tongue on your swollen clit, and a deep groan pushes past your lips as you throw your head back in his pillows and a free hand carefully grasps at his curls, “Fuck— Just like that, please, Josh.”

One of his hands holding your thighs apart slides along the plush flesh, and you gasp when his middle finger toys with your entrance, “Is this okay?” He mumbles against your clit.

You nod frantically, “God, yes, please.”

Slowly pushing his middle finger in, he continues his attention on your clit, distracting you from the feeling of your walls stretching around the digit. There’s no pain, but you know he’s just trying to get you adjusted to feeling full. Short pumps and the curl of his finger press against your g-spot, and you whine at the feeling, your back peeling off of the mattress.

Trembling legs, the string of breathless moans, and the uncontrollable writhing of your hips signal a close release. You’re so close to finishing, feeling your walls pulse around him, but you’re afraid that it’ll end once you reach climax.

“Need more,” You mutter while lifting your head and tugging on his hair slightly, making him look up at you, “Need you inside me.”

He pulls his mouth away quickly and removes his finger leisurely, eager much like you are, and returns to his kneeled position between your legs— your hands returning to their resting position on either side of you. Without a word, he lifts his t-shirt over his head and you nearly salivate at his impressive physique. Sure, you’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, and yet, this is different; his abs clench with every passing breath, his shoulders visibly heaving, and to top it all off, his lips and chin shine in the dimly lit room, a product of you.

Cautious eyes observe him while he unbuttons his khaki shorts, unzipping them and pulling them down just enough to pool around his bent knees. His erection strains in his boxers, begging to be released, and when he pulls the waistband down, you swallow thickly. The tip of his cock leaks precum, and his hand wraps around the shaft, pumping lazily. Your gaze travels up his body, settling on his face, which reflects how eager and nervous he is.

“Shit… I don’t have a condom,” His meek voice admits with a chuckle, “We don’t have to—”

“No! It’s okay,” You rush out, a little too impatiently, but you really wanted this and didn’t want to back out now, “We’ll just be… safe.”

“Okay… Okay, yeah, we’ll be safe,” He nods, understanding what you mean. Leaning forward, his fingers still wrapped firmly around his length, he rests his other hand on the pillow beside your head. A shared shaky breath leaves both of you when his tip glides between your folds, roughly circling your clit and gathering the wetness. Slowly, he positions his tip with your weeping entrance, and the pressure causes you to hold your breath, “Ready?” He asks, making sure to maintain strong eye contact.

“Yes,” You choke out, still afraid to breathe.

“Let me know if it hurts too much,” He comforts, and while you appreciate it, you want— no, need— him now, “We’ll stop, okay?”

“I know,” You swiftly nod while your eyes shoot between his and his erection poking at your cunt, “I’m ready. Are you?” You make sure to ask, realizing how reassuring he’s been this entire time, and afraid that you’ve been lacking the same hospitality.

“Of course,” He smirks, and his hips move forward by an inch, letting his tip be consumed by you. Your chest gets tight, your lungs stalling as you anticipate pain of any sort, “Breathe,” He comforts, inching deeper into you, “Just relax, mama.”

His unusual pet name almost distracts you from the stretching feeling of his cock pushing into you, your walls doing their best to accommodate his size. You breathe deeply, letting out shaky exhales as your wide eyes lock onto his, a sharp gasp pulling into your lungs when he eventually bottoms out. A relieved groan melts from Josh’s tongue; his eyebrows scrunched in pleasure, and his lips agape. The stinging sensation is dull, not overwhelming in the slightest, but you still grip Josh’s waist, waiting for it to hurt.

“You feel so– fuck,” His voice is strained, his hips unable to move while his cock twitches inside of you, wanting more. His eyes nearly roll when you absently squeeze around him, pulling a drawn whine from him, “How can someone feel so… good.” His words send a rush of arousal to your core, coating his erection as he inches his hips back, and carefully pushes back in.

“Holy shit,” Your words are dragged out by a moan, surprised by how natural this feels. You expected blistering pain with little to no pleasure involved, but this felt delicious. As his tip brushes against your textured walls, a mixture of your whimpers and his breathy grunts tangle in the space between you, silencing the TV that plays loudly just feet away from you.

“How does that feel?” He murmurs, his voice lost when he speeds up slightly, the previous resistance no longer present, allowing him to glide in and out of you effortlessly. With his gaining speed, your legs wrap around his waist, creating a new angle that pulls him in deeper.

“So good, Josh,” You cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as the pressure rebuilds itself in your gut, “Please, don’t stop.” He quickens his thrusts, repositioning his arm beside you, resting his upper body weight on his elbow and forearm. His free hand explores your curves; gripping your thighs, your waist, skimming over your clothed breasts, and finally sliding down to your spread cunt.

“Does that feel good?” He sweetly whispers directly in your ear, lazily rubbing circles around your clit. Your hand flies from his waist to his, guiding him to press firmer and rub faster.

“Fuck, yes!” Your words grow increasingly louder the closer your climax gets, and your distracted mind forgets the company that resides in the story just below you.

“God, you feel so good,” Josh’s husky voice and quick breaths brushing against your earlobe add to your pleasure, heightening your peak and tightening the wounding coil, “So warm, so tight.”

“Oh god, Josh,” You whine, your other hand leaving his waist and sliding up his back, your nails pressing crescent moons into the warm skin. “I’m close,” Crying out, your legs tighten around his waist, and your hand grips his wrist, encouraging him to keep going, “Shit!”

The coil in your abdomen snaps, sending a rush of heat through your limbs and core, causing your legs to frantically shake around him and your cunt to rapidly squeeze him as he continues pumping into you. Eyes shooting open to look at the ceiling, your vision is hazy and hearing is muffled, the only sound being let in is the distant string of profanities and cries. Whispered phrases like “That’s right,” “It’s okay,” and “Holy shit.” leave Josh’s lips, which press against the top of your ear.

The final pulses of your orgasm grasp around his length and your moans melt into exasperated breaths, your chest heaving against his. Placing soft kisses along your jawline, he moves further down, peppering along your exposed collarbone and nibbling on the thin skin. His hips gradually slow down, and he practically comes to a halt.

“What- why are you slowing down? Are you okay?” Your words are rushed, and they pull him to look at you, a lazy smile plastered on his plump lips. His face is completely flushed; red splotches cross the bridge of his nose and make a home of his naturally rosy cheeks.

“It’s okay, nothing’s wrong,” He assures, pressing a soft peck to your parted lips, “I just need a minute,” He chuckles as his hips tiredly thrust into you, “I’m so close.” His admission gives you an idea and a favor you’d like to return.

“Wait,” He immediately stops when the word leaves your lips, and his eyes are piercing, afraid he might’ve done something wrong, “Can I– Can I taste you?” Your shy voice comes out in a whisper. His face is stunned, but if it’s possible, his eyes grow darker, clearly enjoying the thought.

“Of course,” He chokes out, clearing his throat. Carefully pulling out, a noise of resistance exits both of you. Glancing at his cock, it’s covered in your release, and your mouth waters at the sight. You switch positions with him, letting him lay on the bed while you sit in between his legs. In the process, he’s taken both his shorts and boxers off, leaving him bare to you.

His eyes are expectant, patiently waiting and watching as you bend forward, lightly grasping his member with your hand and gently placing a kiss on his leaking tip. His hips jut forward, chasing your mouth when you pull away, looking at him with a satisfied smile on your face.

Leaning forward again, your lips part and wrap around his sensitive tip, sucking delicately and pulling a trembling sigh from Josh. The saltiness of his precum and the taste of your climax coat your tastebuds, making your mouth water. Swirling your tongue around him, you plunge deeper, inching his erection into your mouth until his tip pushes against the back of your throat. To prevent yourself from gagging, you hum, making his cock twitch. A sharp gasp pierces his lungs when you pull away and immediately sink back down, your head slowly bobbing on his length.

“Oh, my God,” He mumbles, your eyes shooting to his while you work your way up and down, sucking just enough, “that feels so– fuck.” His head falls back with his eyebrows scrunched, and his hips do their best not to thrust into you, chasing his own release. You move quicker, ignoring the stinging sensation of tears gathering on your waterline, “Keep going, oh god,” You do, sucking harshly, “I’m gonna come.”

His choked words morph into mouth-watering whines, encouraging you to work faster, pulling his orgasm from him. Rushed-out curses leave his sweet lips as his hips sputter and stomach clenches, his cock twitching deep within your mouth. A hand flies to your hair, silently begging for you to keep going while spurts of hot cum coat the back of your tongue. The feeling is overwhelming, and the liquid threatens to leak from the corners of your mouth as you continue your work on him, only pulling away when his erection no longer spasms with every passing of your lips.

When his head finally lifts from the pillows, you swallow eagerly, making sure to hold his amazed stare when you do so. His eyes are shining, cheeks deep red, and his lips stay parted. His eyes are wide as his hand travels from your hair to your cheek, cradling your face and wiping away the drop of cum that escaped on the corner of your mouth with a swipe of his thumb.

“That was—” He breathes out, his chest rapidly rising and falling, an appreciative smile falling on his lips.

“It was,” You shoot back, smiling in return and crawling up his body, surprising him with a firm peck. His hands grip your waist, his chin lifting to deepen the kiss, a pleased hum vibrating your lips.

Knock Knock

The two of you separate at an impressive speed with Josh scrambling to cover you with the blanket located at the end of his bed. Even with the door locked, you feel panic rising in your throat, making you feel sick, “Yeah?” Josh calls out.

“I’m going to bed, can you turn the volume down?” Jake’s muffled voice comes from behind the door, presumably clueless to the state in which you and Josh are in.

“Yes! Sorry!” Josh quickly replies, rushing to the TV and turning the knob, making the volume gradually lower until the room is near silent. When he turns back to you, you both stifle a laugh, and you lift the blanket, motioning for him to join you. “Shouldn’t I get dressed first?”

“Hmmm,” You think about it, lifting a brow and smugly smirking, “Nah.”

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My second Josh one shot, hurray! It’s a little different from what I usually write, but I hope you enjoyed! <3

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@musicislove3389

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[sirjaketkiszka]

Hey yall!! Whenever I’m in a writing slump, I like to write a one shot to get the creative juices flowing. So, here’s a sneak peek of the Josh one shot I’ve been working on. Expect to see it in the next couple of days!! Much love, and as always, thank you for your patience on Silver Springs: Chapter Five!!

[sirjaketkiszka]

Hey yall— chapter five of Silver Springs will be released sometime this week, or maybe even next week. I’m trying to let the words come to me naturally instead of forcing myself to adhere to a set schedule and potentially post content I’m not 100% confident in. There’s also been a few life changes that I’m trying to adjust to, so I hope you can understand!!

[sirjaketkiszka]

It’s a Sin: Chapter One

Priest!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

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Father forgive me, I tried not to do it… Turned over a new leaf, then tore right through it…

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Word Count: 4,811

Warnings: vague mentions of religious trauma, uneventful, and poor writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

It’s a Sin Masterpost

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The gentle melody coming from the car’s radio fades out of earshot as the view from the backseat fully encapsulates you. Dark gray, gloomy skies act as an incessant threat of the chance of rain– a common occurrence for this time of year– as the branches of the towering western hemlocks sway against the strong wind.

Passing a large sign that reads: Garden’s Gate, your eyes take in the sight before you; Various wood-built structures line cobblestone sidewalks just off the side of the poorly paved road, and small homes nestle themselves between what you assume are family-owned businesses. An assumption you make based on your previous research–

Garden’s Gate, established in the mid-1800s, holds a population of only 253. Well, 254 now. It’s heavily religious, extremely traditional, and very tight-knit. Every building is original, a well-functioning relic, and upheld by its caregivers; the citizens. You can’t lie, the town does intimidate you, especially coming in as an outsider– a non-religious outsider at that. But when you saw pictures of the town while scrolling on your laptop, you fell in love.

Just coming into view is the town’s church, the first building to be created when the town came to be. The foundation is built from local wood, chopped just mere feet away from the church itself, and it’s surrounded by scattered tombstones. The years gone by remain present on the church’s slowly rotted wood as flecks of the boards peel away from the exterior walls. Still, the church stays upright, a consequence of minute renovations that strayed away from disturbing its original composition.

An arched, intricately engraved brown door represents a stark contrast compared to the withered appearance, and similarly, arched stained glass windows take their place on either side. Just above the entrance is a circular window, the panes reminiscent of a daisy, and above that is a smaller square window. A bell hangs from the rooftop of the church, encased by sturdy pillars that uphold the cross.

The outdated taxi turns onto a gravel driveway, just a quarter of a mile long and directly across from the church you’ve been admiring, and leading to your new home. When the grumbling crunch of the rough pebbles begins to slow, and the tires come to a halt, you nearly jump out of the cab. The driver plasters on a polite smile, putting the car in park and exiting to retrieve your bags from the trunk.

“Please, let me get that,” You insist, rushing to his side and peeling your eyes away from the beautifully built cottage before you. The both of you fumble to lift the heavy luggage from the car, an exaggerated oof punching from your lungs when you set the suitcase on the damp ground. When the driver gently places your smaller bag on top, you graciously thank him, handing him the hefty toll that accumulated from your journey from the nearest airport; over an hour away.

As the faded yellow car turns around and descends the long, winding driveway, your feet stay planted, your eyes frantically observing the exterior of the house; it’s quaint with tall windows and deep green grass crawling along the layered stone skirt of the structure. The worn paint is off-white, but chipping off in various places, and the roof is harboring a light fuzz of growing moss, a result of the constant dew blanketing over the town. You love it.

Slinging your small carry-on over your shoulder, and firmly gripping the handle of your overweight luggage, you trek across the scattered stone path leading to the front steps. The two short steps creak and groan under your own weight and the added load. As far as you know, the house has remained unoccupied for years but was taken care of by members of the local church.

So, when you lift the dingy doormat inches away from your feet, retrieve the house key, and open the door with an agonizingly loud rasp, you’re surprised to see how well-kept the interior is. Any leftover furniture is covered with discolored bedsheets, and there’s a lack of dust that you expected to see when first entering.

Somehow, the inside of the house is eerily more cold than outside, causing goosebumps to pepper along your skin. The air is stagnant, just the tiniest specks of dust floating past your line of sight, and like the steps leading up to the door, the stained pine hardwood floors squeak beneath you.

“Just needs a little love,” You sigh, surveying the open living room. It seems as though the only furniture left that isn’t yours is the used leather couch, the oval-shaped coffee table a couple of feet from it, and a large, empty bookshelf that resides to the left of the room. All the other furniture, however, is yours– delivered just the day before by a moving company you hired. Was it smart to tell them where the key was so they could go in without you? Probably not, but nothing seems out of place or alarming.

While it’s the middle of the day, the murky sky prohibits any ray of sun from shining through, resulting in the dimly lit space in front of you. Thankfully, the light switch is beside the door, and you flick it upward; though, it doesn’t do much.

There was very little information online about the house you stand in, and all you know is that it was built not long after the town originated. It still has its original flooring, the same awful wallpaper installed in the 1970s, and turns out, the later-added light fixtures from the mid-1900s.

Finished with your gawking, you drag your hefty suitcase into the house, pass the threshold, and leave it leaning against the wall with the smaller bag. As you step further inside, you notice the layout; the kitchen is to the right of the first floor, a large cut-out space in the dividing wall allows a look out into the living room, and there is no dining room, just a spot big enough for a dining table in the corner of the kitchen.

The kitchen is small, but big enough for just you. Due to previous renovations, polished sandy stone counters lay upon dark mahogany wood cabinets. It’s not a look you would usually go for, and it’s certainly not your taste, but that was a problem for later, you ultimately decide. Thankfully, a gas stove and rundown refrigerator are provided with the house, although you’re not entirely sure how well they work. The refrigerator hasn’t been plugged in for however long, and you’re extremely relieved to see that the shelves are spotless and no lingering smell wafts from it when you cautiously swing the door open.

Taking in the final sweep of the kitchen, you notice a packed box labeled “Bedroom: second floor” is set on the counter beside the built-in sink, most likely forgotten by the movers. You lift the decently heavy box with a quick huff and haul it to the stairs to the left of the living room. Carefully looking over the box, you ascend the stairs and are met with a slim hallway, consisting of three doors; your bedroom, the bathroom, and a smaller room, which will most likely be your hobby room.

The bedroom door is left open, allowing you to shuffle into the bland room without struggling with the doorknob. Setting the box onto your bare mattress, it bounces against the plush material, nearly falling over the edge. An exasperated huff rushes past your lips as you plant your hands on your hips, spinning in a slow 360 while your eyes scan the room; The walls are a beautiful shade of sage green– a consequence of the previous tenant– and the floors match the dark red mahogany of the kitchen cabinets. Now this, you wouldn’t change.

Moving boxes littered the hardwood floors, most of them piling up in the farthest corner, acting as a reminder of the extensive work you have ahead of you; unpacking.

You must’ve spent hours just unpacking the boxes belonging to your room– going back and forth on what should be placed where and if you should hang your clothes or fold them into the dresser. Needless to say, these are very important decisions. And with important decisions, came great hunger pains.

“My goodness,” You mumble under your breath, checking the digital clock you unpacked and noticing that the last time you ate was just before your flight. Eight hours ago. Needing a break, you lift from your seated position on your bedroom floor and stretch, letting out an obnoxious groan at the sensation of your joints cracking and back arching out of your previous slouch.

You figure now’s as good a time as any to explore the town, and it’s definitely not because you have no food. On any other day, you would cook. In fact, you love it. The art of cooking felt calming for you, but it’s only something you do as a hobby. It stays sacred that way. Had you pursued it as a career, it would’ve been tainted. Not done purely for enjoyment, but out of obligation.

Either way, you need to eat now. Your stomach growls and cramps at the mere thought of food, and your arms instinctively wrap around your torso for a sense of relief. Where can I eat? What can I eat? You don’t know the town well enough, but perhaps walking down the vacant streets will lead you to a restaurant, or a store, of some sort.

Loud footsteps echo through your house as you saunter down the aged steps of the staircase, your exhaustion and hunger forcing you to move at a leisurely rate. Unsure of the early evening weather, you grab your jacket that hangs on the coat rack by the door anyway, pushing your arms through the thick sleeves and leaving the front open.

Just as you expected, the early October air nips at your face the moment you open the front door, the tip of your nose immediately reddening and cheeks turning rosy from the harsh cold. In your hometown, it’d still be decently warm, probably in the low-70s, but you relished in the colder months. You always look forward to wearing your plethora of knitted sweaters, warm leggings, and chunky boots.

The hinges of the door screech behind you as it shuts, and you turn to lock it, pocketing the key and walking down the ridged path ahead of you.

It’s a short walk, and it’s nearly a ghost town. In the five minutes it takes you to walk to the main road, cross it, and enter the town, you have yet to see a single soul. The uncomfortable atmosphere reminds you of an episode of The Twilight Zone. Actually, the very first episode of The Twilight Zone… Small town. Completely alone.

Your inner monologue nearly leads you to run back home, but you push through, realizing how ridiculous the thought is. As you step into civilization, if you could call it that, you do notice the silhouette of store clerks passing in your peripheral as you search the store signs. Phew.

The stores are decently spaced apart, and some of the elderly structures are homes of the town residents. The uneven cobblestone sidewalk urges you to walk cautiously as you admire the historical details, reading the signs as you stroll by;

Bank. Very thorough.

Seamstress. Not quite it.

Antiques. The whole town is one.

Bakery. Perfect!

The bakery sports large windows displaying their baked goods, and the sight of them causes your stomach to grumble. Your hand impatiently wraps around the store’s doorhandle, swinging it open, and making the bell above it ring. The interior isn’t very well-lit, like most things here, apparently. There’s a total of three tables in the dining area, each with two seats, and a large L-shaped counter that houses all of the pastries.

Hungry eyes scan the abundance of food, probably enough to feed the whole town, you assume, until they land on the cashier. She stands behind the glass counter, a large outdated cash register stationed in front of her. You can tell by the look on her face that she knows you’re not from here, and despite her customer service smile, she’s wary. To dilute the tension, you smile, stepping up to the register.

“Hi, there,” Your voice rang out louder than you expected, and you may have freaked her out even more.

“Hi,” She pauses, her voice reflecting her concern, “Um– What can I help you with?”

“Well, I just moved here,” You explain, and the tension in her stiff shoulders falters for a moment, “So, I’m not sure what to get, what do you suggest?” Maybe asking her for her opinion would ease her anxiety, and it seems to work.

“Oh!” She perks up, eyeing the pastries through the glass and pointing, “You’ll love our housemade muffins. Any flavor, really.”

“I’ll take one of each flavor then,” Your insatiable hunger does the talking for you, but you know you’ll eat the rest later. You have quite the sweet tooth, and sure, you should be eating a “real” meal, but– you have no excuse.

“Perfect,” She smiles, genuinely this time, as she places each flavor into a medium-sized box; Blueberry, chocolate chip, banana nut, poppy seed, and cinnamon crumble. Yum. Setting the box on the counter beside the register, she rings you up, stating your total as you happily hand her your card, “So, you’re the one who bought the house across the church.” She states. It’s not a question. You guess your move was the talk of the tiny town. There’s no surprise there.

“Word gets around, huh?” You chuckle, taking back your card when she hands it to you.

“Well,” She chuckles as well, insinuating that of course word gets around in a town with a population below 300. “We didn’t think it would ever sell. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! It’s just that newcomers aren’t very common, you know?”

“I figured,” Your tone is understanding as you shrug, grabbing the box off the counter, and the decent weight of the baked goods surprises you. The cashier offers you a gracious smile as you thank her for her help, spinning on the heels of your feet and heading for the door. Your hand stalls on the doorknob, and you turn to look at her, “I’m sorry, what’s your name? I could use a familiar face around here.”

“Sara! Without the H,” Her cheerful voice carries across the small bakery like she’s relieved that you asked, and it makes you feel warm, “What’s yours?”

When you answer, she repeats your name back to herself as a reminder and waves you off, calling out to you to let her know how you like the muffins. You didn’t go into town expecting to make any friends so soon, but you’re sure glad you did.

Rushing home, your eyes focus on the moving ground beneath your feet; bulky stones make your steps wobbly, and you’re careful not to trip. Unlike your short journey into town, it feels as though the walk back takes an eternity due to pure impatience.

The crisp air pinches your skin as you work against the breeze, your eyes looking both ways down the entirely empty road as you cross it. The wet gravel shifts under your feet as you stomp up your driveway and finally approach your home. Though, at the moment, it feels like just a house. Vacant, void of fond memories, and any familiarity.

You ultimately decide eating alone at your thrifted dining room table feels too depressing, so you settle for the slightly damp front door steps. Plopping down, the light layer of moisture soaks into your pants, and you squirm at the feeling.

“Gross,” You grumble, your hands fidgeting with the folding lid of the paper box. When you flip the top open, you’re face to face with five large muffins, all delicately handcrafted and baked to perfection. The uncomfortable feeling underneath you becomes a distant thought as you grab the blueberry muffin with two hands, letting the box balance on your legs. You waste no time bringing the fluffy baked good to your mouth, your lips parting and teeth flashing to consume a substantial bite.

The sweetness coats your tongue and an exaggerated groan leaves your throat as you chew slowly, your teeth crushing the shriveled blueberries. You’re not sure if this is the best muffin you’ve ever had, or if you’re just really hungry. Though, it didn’t matter. If the bakery did a blueberry muffin this well, the rest had to be held to the same standard, you hope.

So, for the next five minutes, you take a bite from each muffin, eyes nearly rolling back at the taste of each one. If you really wanted to, you could finish all five right this second because of your persistent hunger, but you’ll show restraint… For now.

Just as you’ve circled back to the blueberry muffin, you notice a line of people waiting outside the church just across the street. It’s not Sunday. You thought to yourself as your eyebrows furrowed, watching as a priest opened the doors to the church, welcoming the group of church-goers in. The amount isn’t large, maybe ten people, but you keep watching intently. They’re too far to hear, and even to see clearly, so you assume that the priest is thanking each member for coming with every vague nod of his head.

You’re unable to get a good look at the priest, but from your seated position, he looks young. Squinting your eyes, you’re only able to make out that he has long hair, and is average height. His features are blurred as a result of the distance, and you find yourself wanting to wander over there just to see him. Something about his presence is alluring.

Once you think you’ve had enough of the food in front of you, you close the box and stand, your eyes still drawn to the church. You aren’t religious, not at all, but the concept intrigues you. Devoting your life to a person, or people, you’re not confident exist. Believing in something greater as a sense of comfort. You admire it. But, you also despise it.

Reemerging suppressed memories cause you to zone out, planted where you stand on the last step of your small porch. The silence morphs into whispered echoes of your childhood, and your hands absently squeeze around the delicate box.

The kids exiting the church hurled overplayed insults at you. None you haven’t heard before. If anything, you wished they were more creative. You couldn’t lie, though, it all hurt the same.

A single drop of rain pulls you from your recollection as your eyes frantically blink, realizing you’re staring down the church, the priest looking directly at you through fickle raindrops. Still, you can’t make out any defining features, and he seems to be struggling with the same predicament. The line of people has filed into the ancient building, but he stands there, looking at you.

Not bothering to acknowledge him, you turn around and step up to your door, quickly unlocking it and stepping inside before the rain becomes a consistent downpour.

The sight of your disorganized living room and kitchen causes an irritated exhale to exit your lungs. That would have to be a problem for tomorrow since the comforting sound of speckled rain on your lanky windows pulls a yawn from you. The day wears on you– traveling, unpacking, a bit of exploring– it all takes a toll on you.

Your feet drag as you set the half-eaten muffins on the kitchen counter, and you lazily complete your nighttime routine, having to actively pull from boxes to find what you need. You figure a lot of your unpacking will play out that way; you needing something, then having to search for it, and inevitably unpacking the rest in the process.

Usually, you’d struggle with falling asleep in an unfamiliar environment, but the moment your head hits the pillow, your heavy eyelids blind you. Your breathing evens, your body falls limp, and your features soften in restful bliss.

“You shouldn’t let their words bother you, baby,” Your mom swept the hair sticking to your tear-stained cheeks away and cradled your face in the palm of her hands.

“They kept talking about you,” You sniffled, looking her in the eyes with shame, “They said mean things.” Your voice came out in a whisper, and she sighed.

“Do you want to know why?”

A knock at your door causes you to shoot up from your lying position and a startled gasp expands your lungs as you bend at the waist with your blankets pooling around you. Your sleep-ridden eyes move around the room, remembering where you are, and that yes, you did move into a new house. Most of the empty boxes have been moved to the hallway, and the rising sun casts a soft light across your bed sheets. Looking at the clock on your otherwise bare nightstand, it’s still relatively early, 7 o’clock to be exact, and you aren’t expecting any visitors.

The lack of central heat sends a chill down your stiff spine as you search for your robe hanging in the nicely sized-closet. Wrapping the warm, soft garment around your trembling frame, you head downstairs where the knocking continues for the second time.

“Coming!” You call out, hopefully loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear.

Through the stained glass, you see a dark figure standing on the steps, their head rotating and looking around the outside of your house. You pause for a moment before opening the door, the bright contrast of outside piercing your dim-adjusted eyes, causing you to squint to focus. When your gaze finally lands on the man in front of you, you realize it’s the priest from yesterday.

As you had guessed previously, he’s of average height and has long, wavy hair that has grown just below his shoulders. The ends of his chestnut hair are thinned out, but it holds decent volume as it swoops into a side part, likely a consequence of his hands running through it. His face is chiseled, his high cheekbones prominent through his hollow cheeks, and his jawline is well defined. A light purple hue swatches underneath his eyes, emphasizing their captivating auburn shade of brown, and his blush pink lips quirk in a friendly smirk. He’s young, probably around your age, and it surprises you.

He’s wearing all black– a long sleeve button-up, paired with his clerical collar, and a pair of jeans that are a slightly lighter shade of black compared to the rest of his outfit. Over everything, he’s wearing a black petticoat that stops right at his knees, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

“Uh– Hi, can I help you?” You ask, still holding onto the door, and shielding half of your body.

“Hello, I’m Father Jacob Thomas Kiszka,” His voice is surprisingly smooth, and your heart quickens a beat, “I haven’t had the chance to properly introduce myself.” He smiles, pulling his hand from his pocket and holding it out for you to shake. His fingers are lengthy, and his hands are quite veiny, and they curl around your hand gently when you accept the handshake. His palm is warm, and incredibly soft as his semi-firm grip bobs your guys’ hands up and down.

“It’s no problem,” You dismiss while releasing his hand and letting yours awkwardly hang beside you when his lingering warmth melts away, “I only got here yesterday.”

“That’s right,” His smile falters a little, falling into a permanent content smirk, “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Not at all,” You lie through a clenched smile, suddenly very aware of the state of your house, and you, “Can I fix you a cup of coffee?” You ask while stepping aside, letting him cross the threshold. When he slides past you, his overpowering scent floats just beneath your nose as you breathe in. The breeze in his wake smells strongly of cinnamon, a mixture of other rich spices, and musk. You find yourself breathing in again, holding the scent in your lungs like a drag from a cigarette.

Shutting the door behind him as he graciously smiles at you, his eyes wander around the still-covered furniture in the living room, and the boxes piled along the walls. Heat creeps up your neck, embarrassment burning in your gut from the mess.

“I’m okay,” He finally answers, turning to you with that perpetual smirk.

“Suit yourself,” You shrug, disappearing into the kitchen. The coffee maker is stashed away in one of the boxes, and you don’t plan on searching for it now, but you need an excuse to step away. Your hands fly to your frizzy hair as you roughly brush out any kinks with your fingers, and you rub the remaining sleep from your eyes. Had you expected company, you would’ve looked somewhat presentable, but you haven't been granted that pleasure.

When you reappear in the living room, he immediately turns to you, both hands back in his pockets. His presence is slightly offputting, though you’re not entirely sure why. Despite his average size, his vitality consumes the space surrounding him, including yourself.

“I apologize if I’ve woken you up,” He speaks, his eyes discreetly glancing over you, “I understand that it’s early.”

“Please, it’s okay,” You wave a hand at him, “I was already awake.” Another lie.

“Right,” He chuckles, and it’s apparent that he knows you’re lying, “I won’t be long– I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“I appreciate that, Father,” You smile at his welcoming words, and for a moment, his body language is conflicting. He’s contemplating something, and you’re eager to know what it is.

“May I ask, do you attend church, Miss…” Oh. That question. It’s not your first time hearing it, and honestly, you expected it, especially from him. The end of his last word drags out as he waits for you to introduce yourself, something you forgot to do when he did so himself.

You answer quickly, stating your first and last name, but insisting that he calls you by your first. “Miss” felt too formal. You are anything but formal. “I can’t say that I do,” You answer his question truthfully, and you don’t miss how disappointment radiates off his stature.

“That’s a shame,” His words alone sound harsh, but his tone is discouraged, and you know he doesn’t mean it the way it came out. “I’m sure you can tell, but this town, the people, are very… devout. I figured I’d ask,” A pause, “Perhaps, if you’d like, you could join us.” His insinuation feels like a punch in the gut, and you hate to have to reject his offer, but attending church is out of the question.

“That’s a lovely offer, Father,” You say sincerely, and the shift in his demeanor indicates that he already knows you’re going to decline, “But I’ll have to turn you down on that, I’m sorry.”

“No worries,” He waves you off now, his eyebrows furrowing at the increasing concern on your features. You hate saying no to people, and somehow, rejecting a priest’s offer for you to come to his church feels even worse. “Just thought I’d ask,” He shrugs, offering you a flash of a closed-mouth smile.

“Alright,” An uncomfortable silence falls in the space between you two, and his gaze lingers on yours for a moment longer.

“Anyway,” He clears his throat, eyes shifting from yours, “I should get out of your hair– let you get settled in.”

“Of course,” You step toward the door, opening it for him and watching as he steps back outside, turning to face you, “Thanks for stopping by, Father.”

“It was a pleasure,” Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly, and you feel guilty for silently wishing he’d say it again, “I’ll see you around.”

Watching as he turns around, you observe how he strides down the stone path, his hair swaying with every swift step and broad shoulders mimicking the movement. Unable to look away, you keep your eyes on him until he’s disappeared into the church, not sparing another glance in your direction. You still feel as though you’re not completely awake, and your strange, brief interaction with Father Jacob only solidifies the contemplation of whether you’re dreaming.

An unexplainable and nagging feeling settles in your gut, but you choose to ignore it, chalking it up to built-up stress. Closing your door, you face the surplus of labor scattered across the living room and kitchen. Procrastination calls to you, but you refrain.

“Let’s get this over with.”

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A new Jake fic, hurray! I hope you all enjoyed chapter one <3

I’ve been waiting to write this since the idea came to me in a dream, oddly enough. Much love!!

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Taglist:

@musicislove3389 @fleetingjake @peaceloveunitygvf @dancingcarbon

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Tags:

[sirjaketkiszka]

It’s a Sin Mood Playlist

A playlist inspired by It’s a Sin: A Jake Kiszka fanfic.

It’s a Sin Masterpost

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It’s a Sin by Pet Shop Boys

Mary on a Cross by Ghost

Strangers by Ethel Cain

Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin

California Dreamin’ by The Mamas & The Papas

She’s Not There by The Zombies

Spooky by Classics IV

Take Me to Church by Hozier

Losing My Religion by R.E.M.

Obsessed by Luna Day

Exit Music (For a Film) by Radiohead

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

Creep by Radiohead

Lonely Day by System Of A Down

The Summoning by Sleep Token

Wicked Game by Chris Isaak

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Tags:

[sirjaketkiszka]

It’s a Sin Masterpost

Priest!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

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Father forgive me, I tried not to do it… Turned over a new leaf, then tore right through it…

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Having moved to a small town with a population stuck in the triple digits, you expected perpetual bliss. However, the local church is adamant about converting you to become a loyal member.

Every sunday, they send their most influential priest to persuade you; Father Jacob Thomas Kiszka. He is of high power and importance in the church. While you can resist the church, you can’t resist him. You’ll come to find that one sided infatuation isn’t so one sided…

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Word Count: 4,811

Warnings: 18+!!, religious trauma, religious themes, intense themes, heavy topics, self-hatred, cursing, secrecy, slow-burn, and eventual smut.

Disclaimer: this is a priest!Jake alternate universe. In no way does this apply to the people involved nor is it meant to disrespect the Catholic church. This is purely fiction and will only be loosely based on religious traditions… Enjoy!

Playlist inspired by It’s a Sin

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Chapter List:

Chapter One

Chapter Two (coming soon…)

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Tags:

[sirjaketkiszka]

Hey yall! Hope yall don’t mind but there will be no Silver Springs chapter tomorrow, but instead, I’d like to publish the first chapter of It’s a Sin. Of course, along with the masterpost and mood playlist. I’ve really been looking forward to posting this fic, especially since it came to me in a dream haha. Much love to you all!!

[sirjaketkiszka]

Hi! Do you mind using a read more on your longer fics? I love your writing but sometimes when I’m scrolling and reading on the dash it tries to load too much without one and the app crashes!

Hello!! I am literally so sorry, clearly I don’t know how to navigate this app well enough so I’m adding a read more line to each post!! I’m SO SORRY!! I feel so bad 😭

Also, thank you so much for telling me!! I thought it was only showing up in full on my page, I didn’t know it showed that way for everyone else!!