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jakekiszkasleftnutsack · 2 years

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Fan Service - Chapter 2

Josh Kiszka x f!reader

. . . . . . .

Read Chapter 1 here

Summary: After a passionate night in Josh’s dressing room it’s time to camp for another round of DIG. What could the universe possibly have on deck to ruin the third concert in the Michigan lineup?

Warnings: 18+ content minors DNI, swearing, feelings, pining, fingering, dom!Josh, unprotected sex (advised against), oral sex (m and f receiving), praise kink, general roughness, etc.

W/c: 7.5k

A/n: Here it is. It’s been a minute since I’ve been this motivated to write so the timeline is a little wonky, just pretend it makes sense ok. I appreciate everyone who sent me requests and suggestions for this series, and special thanks as always to my gresties for cheering me on. Again, apologies for my shameless self insert. Hopefully we like where this story goes, let me know your thoughts! Thank you for the continued support, i love you all!

Edited by the lovely @gretasamfeettt

Vibes: Something About You - Level 42 and golden hour - JVKE

. . . . . . .

Being born and raised in the Midwest has made you mostly impartial to the cold. You’d spent many a chilly night around dying campfires, many afternoons skiing down powdered hills, and even more mornings trudging through snowbanks just to get to school. Spending ten hours trying to sleep on cold concrete with only a tent to protect you from the early March wind and snow, however, is turning out to be a little out of your comfort zone.

You don’t really mind though, you’d happily suffer through any amount of discomfort to see your favorite band, and having your two best friends with you does dull the pain somewhat. It had been their idea originally to camp out for the slew of shows happening in your area, so you all bought your tickets months in advance and spent the days leading up meticulously preparing. The vibe has been a bit off ever since you rejoined your group the night before, haphazardly dressed after a romp with a rockstar, but they seem excited for you all the same.

Now that you’ve had time to register the events of the night before, you’re scared shitless. You were living in the moment, but when time resumed its normal pace, the reality that Josh Kiszka picked you is almost too much to bear. You were hesitant to give up too many details when they tried to poke and prod them out of you, even if it meant they would believe you to be mildly full of shit. Hell, you can hardly believe it yourself, but there’s no part of you that’s willing to risk breaking his confidence. The experience you shared with Josh was special to you, and you will not be souring it by any means.

You look down at your phone and reread the last text he sent you, ‘I better see you there.

Josh does own a cell phone and uses it quite often, to your complete surprise. After you rejoined your friends the previous night and began the drive to the next city on your roster, you texted your name to the number he gave you. He texted back immediately to wish you a good night, and when morning came and you wished him good luck he returned with that little crumb.

He wants to see me again… Of all people…

He’s probably just being polite…

“Smile for Joshy!” You extend your arm to snap a selfie, posing in line outside the venue to send him in return. The bundled faces of you and your friends are doing their best to smile through clenched teeth and not look frigid in the Michigan winter air.

The caption reads ‘Camping out just to be sure you do’, and you send it off after gaining an approving nod from everyone.

“I’m not convinced this isn’t some sort of elaborate ruse,” your best friend, Quinn, jests after dropping the smile she forced for the picture. “If you’re Josh Kiszka’s sneaky link now then how come we don’t have backstage passes?”

“Ohh my god. I’m not some clout chaser, I can’t just ask him for things ‘cause he paid attention to me once.” You scoff slightly at the insinuation. How could you possibly ask that man for anything after he already gave you the time of day?

Your answer must not be satisfactory, prompting a retort back. “Okay, but he gave you his phone number, and he’s still texting you? If he didn’t like you he would’ve just let you leave. I saw the way he watched you get whisked away, it was like a fucking romance movie.”

He did give me his number, some random one-night stands I’ve had haven’t even given me their phone numbers afterward. Maybe there’s a point there..

The thought feels so ridiculous in your mind you barely want to let it take root. He’s already taking up so much of your headspace, letting the idea that you might have a chance with him seems much too dangerous of a concept.

“Would you stop getting my hopes up? Everybody knows they don’t have groupies… plus he just slept with me the one time, it didn’t mean anything.” You trail off, suddenly disappointed with yourself for remembering that small fact.

Disappointed about what? Getting attached already? Pitiful.

“Who said anything about being a groupie? I’m sure that’s not the reason he doesn’t show all his fuck buddies off to the masses.” Nina, the third part of your little trio, chimes in. “If I had known that getting beat up in the pit was the way to bag a Kiszka I would’ve knocked my own ass out in front of them a long time ago.”

“Why does everyone keep saying I got beat up?!”

. . .

Not too much later, your phone lights up, his name is on the screen accompanied by a silly picture of him you had saved. Highway Tune plays loud and clear through the speaker, but all you can do is stare as your fight or flight response kicks into gear. Beyond unprepared for an event like this, you turn your hand to show your friends the screen with a deer in headlights look on your face.

“Speakerphone, bitch. Now!” Nina screams at you frantically as the opportunity slips away.

Fuck.

With an appropriate sense of urgency, you clear your throat and swipe across the glass to answer with a cute but casual “Hey!”

“I’m sorry, you’re doing what?” In your experience, no introduction means business. Even when separated by the phone and however many miles, his slightly acidic tone gives you chills.

“Camping! Ya know, for the barricade!”

“You mean you’re outside the damn arena right now?” He sounds relatively calm in contrast to the intensity of his words, it’s hard to tell if he’s really angry or not.

“Well yeah! It’s how you get to be up front… you do know what goes down at your shows, right?” you giggle in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Y/n… How long have you been out there?”

“I don’t know… some hours…” You dart your eyes to the girls, silently begging them to not say a word about how you drove through the night on no sleep from the previous show to get right back in line for another.

“It’s freezing fucking cold outside, absolutely not, I won’t have it.”

What the fuck does that mean?

“You won’t have it? It’s what everybody does, honestly, it’s fine I have my friends with me. It’s part of the whole experience.”

A contemplative sigh comes from his end of the line followed by a long pause.

“Josh?” You hear some distant voices and shuffling around coming from whoever he’s taken a second to speak to.

“Your friends can come too.” He finally answers.

“Josh, what are you…you’re not sending another goon to kidnap me again, are you?”

“Yeah Peach, stay put for me alright?” The line beeps dead, leaving everyone's jaws dropped at the audacity.

After a moment passes, Quinn is the first to say something. “So. Peach, huh?”

. . .

Faster than you had expected, a wide guy in a baseball cap with a scruffy beard approaches you and your friends in line. You instantly recognize him to be the same guy that rescued you from the pit and kept you like a present for Josh backstage the night before.

“Hey, it’s you!” You exclaim, relieved to be seeing a somewhat familiar face.

“Nice to see you again, Miss y/n. Mr. Kiszka asked me to show you and your friends inside.”

Slightly panicked glances are being shot all around amongst yourselves as you pack up your stuff, unsure of the unorthodox situation that won’t stop unfolding. Gossipy murmurs and glares are shot your way from those in line who may have been snooping, but once your blankets and chairs are picked up he leads you around the side of the building to a door out of sight from the other campers.

“What’s your name?” You ask him as you follow his lead close behind. “Since you know my name I don’t wanna keep calling you security boy.”

He chuckles and shoots a smile over his shoulder. “I’m Trevor, but security boy is fine if you like it.”

“Okay, security boy. How long have you worked for Josh?”

“I’ve been head security for the band for a couple months now.”

“I thought they just used venue security, I never see them out and about with bodyguards.”

“You’re half right. I mostly oversee the local security teams at the concerts and events, but they’ve been needing personal security more than usual lately. Besides, I’m pretty much an assistant at this point with how much they have me run errands like this.”

“Oh, so I’m just another errand, huh?”

“I’m more like your babysitter at this point, don’t you think?” You share a laugh, and instantly tension begins to ease.

You arrive at a small dressing room, which he unlocks and opens up for your group to drop your coats. One by one he hands you each a lanyard with a badge attached, indicating your new security clearance.

“You can warm up and get changed in here, I’ll come to get you when it’s time to head on out. I’ll leave ya to it.”

Josh has him ‘run errands’ a lot, I hope this isn’t something he’s used to…

“Wait…” Standing in the doorway once your group has started unpacking, you fight with yourself for a moment about whether you should ask the million-dollar question. “Is Josh… does he do this a lot? I mean…”

It rolls out with the most pathetically apprehensive voice you’ve ever had the displeasure of speaking, upon hearing it you wish you could take it back. He looks at you for a moment but ultimately seems to take pity on you and places a hand on your shoulder. “No ma’am, he doesn’t.”

He seems earnest enough, and you believe him as much as two strangers can trust each other in these kinds of circumstances. His gesture is enough to soothe a bit of the self-doubt that hasn’t left you alone for about 24 hours.

“Thank you, Trevor.” He touches the bill of his hat and tips it with a gentlemanly nod and half a smile before turning away, leaving you to close the door behind him.

. . .

As the lot of you are getting ready, putting makeup on, and doing your hair, you hear a knock on the door followed by Trevor’s voice. “You ladies decent?”

“Yeah, come in”. You answer without looking up from the flick of eyeliner you’re expertly applying in the mirror.

The door clicks open and the honey-smooth voice floats in before the man himself. “How’s everything coming along in here?,” he says, casual as can be. You flicker your attention up to catch his cocky smile when he enters still in his street clothes. You can’t help but chuckle a little to yourself as you watch your friends attempt to stifle their reactions, but ultimately fail while tripping over each other to meet him.

He greets them politely, asking their names and apologizing for any discomfort in rooting you from your spots in line. As any good fangirl would, they decline his apology and thank him for the opportunity to be inside instead.

“The guys and I were all really worried about everyone out there in the cold, but we know you’re all so dedicated, we couldn’t stop you if we tried.” They agree with him, giggling shamelessly at the charm that seems to come so naturally to him. Watching him interact with fans after knowing how he acts in private is almost comical.

“We really do appreciate you setting aside a spot for us, we know you’re really busy.” You pipe up for the first time.

Gross. You really couldn’t think of anything better to say? Idiot.

He locks eyes with you from where you’re standing against the mirror at the back of the room but says nothing, apart from the way his lips twitch when he takes in the sight of you. Even the blind would be able to notice the instantaneous effect you have on him.

“We didn’t think you guys really knew each other” Nina blurts out while the two odd girls out watch something unspoken bounce back and forth between you.

“Oh no, we definitely know each other. Isn’t that right y/n?” You know the question is rhetorical, but you tip your chin slightly in agreement anyway, a blistering heat behind your eyes. “Would I be able to get a few minutes alone with your friend here, if you guys don’t mind? She’ll join you in a moment, Trevor is just out in the hall to show you to some snacks.”

They nod and scurry out of the room, offering supportive glances, a suggestive wink, and a pair of smiles from behind his back as they file out quicker than you can protest.

His entire demeanor changes when the two of you are left standing alone in the confines of the dressing room, free from anything that could act as a buffer. He was gracious and polite with your friends, clearly putting on a little bit, but you’re with a different person once he shuts and locks the door behind them. Just like the other night, the tension in the surrounding air is palpable.

Don’t make a fool of yourself. Don’t be desperate and weird. You can do this y/n, be confident and breathe.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way to do all this, Josh.” You set down your eyeliner on the counter behind you, doing your best to appear nonchalant despite your heart doing its very best to pound its way out of your chest. As exciting as being in his presence is, you’re also terrified to your core. The energy shift is so seamless you have no room to be rattled by his next move.

Josh shakes his head as he strides towards you, as if hearing the silliest words ever spoken into existence. He closes the gap between you in a few short paces, trapping you in place against the counter. There are barely a few inches between your bodies but you’re steadfast in your cool as a cucumber facade, no matter how unconvincing it may be.

“As much as I appreciate the time you’re willing to put in, I wish you had told me you were gonna wait out in the cold. I could’ve saved you so much earlier.”

“I didn’t really think that was an option. I don’t expect any special treatment.” You long to reach out and touch him, to tear down the invisible barrier holding you back. It’s scary, like there’s some sort of rule you’d be breaking if you did. You’re just trying to be respectful, when in reality that’s the last thing you want to do.

“You should. I can’t give it to everybody but I can give it to you.” Your cheeks flush red forcing you to look down and away from him to avoid getting too flustered, only for him to raise your chin again with one finger to keep your eyes on him, ensuring you really hear what he has to say. “You’re not part of the general population anymore mama, you’re my sweet peach, remember?”

In the wake of his genuinely sweet albeit loaded comment, a wave of emotion returns to blindside you, shattering your smoke screen of indifference like a freight train.

Does he crave me in the same way I crave him?

Could he ever feel anything close to what I feel?

I idolize and ache for him, but what does he think of me?

He’s already been inside me. He’s already had more of me than most other men ever have.

I’ve earned his favor and attention, why am I so quick to reject it?

Does he pity me?

What if he just pities me…

“I’m scared.” You choke out. Without a high to hide behind there’s nothing to stop your bleeding heart from exploding right here in his hands. He catches up with your train of thought though and is so quick to reassure you it might as well be second nature.

“Y/n, what are you scared of?” his eyes flicker back and forth as he searches yours.

“That none of this is real.” you feel you should elaborate but you can’t. Any attempt at trying to explain the thoughts that have been gnawing at you would come out like word vomit. Some preconceived notion you cooked up in your paralyzing anxiety is telling you not to act like his stardom has any effect on you. You’ve wrapped yourself in a cage of barbed wire made of your own cowardice, only to be cut open if a single wrong move is made. He probably goes out of his way to avoid girls like that, so you exercise the minimal restraint you feel capable of to keep it short. Out of fear, of course.

Ever so delicately he takes your hand, brings it to his lips, and ghosts your knuckles along the baby soft skin that rests there. In a breath he leaves a kiss, focusing on the spot for a moment before returning focus to your wet eyes.

“Last night I asked you to trust me and you did, and I took good care of you. Do you still trust me?”

You nod your head.

“Then trust that I’ll continue to take care of you, okay? This is real, I’m real. Look…” he bares his teeth over the back of your hand and play bites it, making you gasp mostly in surprise but you laugh it off crudely, your heart flutters. “See? You’re real too, Peach.”

Of course, Josh would never miss a beat. Of course, all it would take is a teaspoon of vulnerability to prompt him to keep the floodgates from giving way completely to whatever bullshit mess you could concoct.

Stop being so foolish.

You sniffle away the remnants of what could have been a colossal breakdown and crack a smile at him through batted lashes. “Peach.. Is that my name now?”

He nods, moving his lips against your skin again. “I like it, think it’s cute, don’t you?”

“Mhm, it is… I could’ve braved through the cold ya know, hands down.”

“Would you stop complaining every time I try to rescue you?” he snorts in a teasing way that makes you giggle and bite your lip like a little kid with a crush. You try not to get distracted by his chestnut brown eyes, shining bright.

“Anything for you.” For good measure, you toss in a flirty wink with your same line from the night before.

“Again with that shit, babygirl.. I oughta spank you for getting me worked up before a performance. God, you are relentless!”

Finally, you decide to stop fighting the magnetic energy pulling you toward him and lean into his frame. “And I don’t even have to say please?”

A choked moan barely escapes him, and he plays it off with a fake as hell cough that only serves to make you giggle.

“Fuck…” he gives you another quick once over in your concert outfit, smoothing over where he’s wrinkled it in a few spots and breaks out in a smirk, still holding your chin in place to keep you from looking elsewhere, “You look delicious, Peach. Are you me this time?”

The outfit in question just so happens to be a top modeled after the jumpsuit he wore in Los Angeles during the Strange Horizons tour paired with a miniskirt. Pure groupie behavior, yet again. You do your best not to roll your eyes at yourself.

“So, I didn’t plan on meeting you when I picked out my-“ in very Joshua fashion, he just can’t wait until the end of your sentence to swoop in for a bruising, searing hot open mouthed kiss that almost makes you stumble. Your lips mash together sloppily but you don’t care. You just want to feel like he has to have you, maybe he really does.

“How’s that bruised peach doing?” His words are barely intelligible at the lowest end of his register and doesn’t wait for an answer before reaching for the hem of your skirt. “Show me.”

You let him spin you around and hike up your skirt around your hips so he has full access to the panties adorning the purple blotches on your skin. There hasn’t been quite enough time for you to inspect the damage made by your fall, but he’s careful to avoid it.

“I know they’re pretty ugly.” you try to avoid thinking about it, instead focusing on his hand that’s made its way between your legs and is exploring the lacy edge of your panties. Another part of you is hoping the edge of the counter won’t crack under your iron-clad grip on it, purely keeping your knees from losing their integrity.

“Hush, sweetness. Look.” his free hand wraps around you to grab your chin, forcing your gaze upon the mirror you’ve found yourself facing. “See how beautiful you are? Nothing could taint that.”

Right then, he slips his hand under the lace and dives into your slit, already wet to the touch. You’re not sure why watching his hand move obscenely against you has you feeling so embarrassed, but when you see your own cheeks turning rosy you try to turn and protest the position. “Josh..”

“Don’t look away. Watch me.” he holds you still, pressing two of his fingers into you with a squelch. Watching yourself was one thing, but seeing the look on his face when he makes contact with that heavenly gummy texture is something that will be seared into your mind forever. It’s close to a look of pain, like he can’t stand just how unreal you feel to him.

“Good God, y/n.” he stays tucked inside for a few pumps of his wrist before leaving your warmth to press those drenched fingers to your lips. You don’t need a command this time to open up and lick them clean.

“How can I possibly focus on putting on a good show when you’re out here distracting me? Saboteur, that’s what you are!”

“And how am I supposed to enjoy the music I paid good money to see if you’re just gonna be making me horny? Are you going to repay me?”

“Well… you got me there. Maybe if you behave.”

. . .

Now, typically when one has backstage passes to a concert, that usually grants access to back stage. It’s right there in the name. However, you camped with your friends for however long before Joshua stepped in, and your hopes have been set on snagging a spot at the barricade. It’s not something you’re all too fond of giving up on.

Once Josh had released you from his grasp and excused himself to get ready, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek as you part ways, your friends returned with the news that the doors were about to open. It took some light convincing on your part, but Trevor agreed to let you into the pit early so you can secure a spot up front. Watching from backstage the night before was really cool, of course it was, but this is an experience you’d been dreaming of for just as long. Josh Kiszka is not going to be the reason you miss it.

Standing where you are now, directly in front of where he’ll be standing shortly with the gardens gate key hanging high above you, your stomach is firmly planted in your ass. The openers were amazing, adding to the intense build up of the curtain dropping any minute now. You feel almost more nervous now than you did the first time around, but this time it’s a different breed.

When the curtain finally falls and the shrieks of the girls around you dampen your senses, he’s right where he’s supposed to be and instant relief washes over you. Chest puffed out, wide stance, head held high, utterly ecstatic. You can trace his eyes scanning the audience, taking in the sheer mass of the crowd and every face that he can make out. Until they land on you. It’s subtle, but you can tell he wasn’t expecting to see you there, cheering for him as he so deserves.

“Give me my money’s worth, baby!” you don’t care if he can hear you or not, you’re not even sure of the words that spewed out. Everybody knows the most unhinged thoughts sometimes slip in the presence of these men anyway.

He lingers on you with the smuggest expression, a hint of deviance mixed in as well, and licks his lips before diving into the lyrics of their first song.

Yeah, he heard me, that little fucker.

Song after song you hype him up, screaming his name and blowing him kisses, singing along to every single word. Each and every time he lands in front of you he does something ridiculously out of pocket and slutty. Whether it be thrusting his hips, licking his lips, or growling into the damn microphone, he makes eye contact with you every single time.

Every. Single. Time. Without fail.

Oh my god. He’s actually taunting me…

“Who’s misbehaving now, Joshy!?” you scream when he lets a particularly moan-like cry sound out through the arena. It’s your last straw when he sticks his tongue out at you in response. All you can think about is how badly you want to see that tongue somewhere else, and how you want to make him pay for his actions when you finally can.

He’s incorrigible

As the end of Safari Song dawns you recognize the familiar rhythm that marks the beginning of Danny’s drum solo. A fluttering feeling returns to your chest with the realization, because the drum solo also happens to be when Josh rides the shoulders of a security guard to pass out roses.

When he reaches you, he places a rose purposefully in your hand and you try not to swoon when he winks at you from his high horse. He’ll be coming back around shortly to have some face-to-face time with his adoring fans, but with how hard he’s been throwing his sexuality around the stage for the whole world to see you quickly try to think of something that will make him swoon back.

Like a wave, the screaming and shuffling of young women starts to crawl back in your direction, and you’ve finally settled on your move as he appears in your line of sight once again. Instead of blindly reaching for him hoping for just a touch of attention like everyone else, you make eye contact with him as he approaches and hold out your hand open faced. He seems to think nothing of the out of the ordinary gesture and reaches out. In a split second, you fake him out as he’s about to grab your hand, surpassing his grasp to reach up as far as you can.

“Hi baby” is all you can think to say, but it’s more than enough. You can make out the words ‘Hi Peach’ move across his lips with no accompanying sound. Somewhere in the process he catches on and bends just slightly to close the gap for you, never once breaking the eye contact you’re trying so hard to hold. As you reach his face you caress his cheek, using your thumb to slightly grace his bottom lip until he’s pulled out of range.

The exchange barely lasted more than a few heartbeats, but the impact is profound. You didn’t believe it was possible to actually see stars in someone’s eyes until the whole universe manifested in Josh’s. There’s remnants of a blush on the apples of his cheeks when he hops back on stage, and you do your best to vacate the butterflies from your stomach as the show carries on oblivious to your secret.

. . .

After the show ends and the house lights come up, you take your pictures and exchange socials with the girls around you that had bonded with you between sets. Then, once everything has substantially died down, you exchange quick glances at your friends before hopping over the barricade and flashing your security badges at the men who immediately try to stop you.

It’s a funny feeling, floating around backstage aimlessly. You eventually are able to latch onto the sound of Trevor’s voice and follow it until you see the boys huddled around talking, already changed out of their concert attire. Sam and Jake notice you before he does, but you tap Josh on the shoulder anyway. When he turns he smiles like the sunshine boy he is, rushes to you without hesitation and wraps his arms around you, picks you up, and spins you around like you’re old friends in an airport who haven’t seen each other in years.

“Holyyy shit, Peach! Did you get your money’s worth?” he cries gleefully as he sets you down and squishes your cheeks between his palms, knocking loose a few rhinestones you had placed there.

“And more! You acted like a proper slut out there!”

“Thank you, thank you, I try my best. I didn’t expect you to be right in front! You almost had me for a minute there, mama.”

“Yeah, well you deserved it.”

“Ahem,” Jake slaps a hand down on Josh’s shoulder and turns his attention to you. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Dear brother, why don’t you introduce us to your friend?”

You take matters into your own hands and thrust yours out to him, which he shakes warmly smiling a devilish grin to match. “Hello Jacob, I’m y/n.”

“Ahhh so this is the dreamboat that kept you so preoccupied last night!?” Sam interjects, pulling you away from the twins and into a hug that you were not prepared for but accept happily anyway.

“Hi Sammy, sorry for keeping him from his important frontman duties.”

“Well shit, he’s not that important.” he laughs, jabbing a playful shove at his eldest brother's shoulder, prompting a scuffle to ensue that you carefully step away from. In taking a step back you bump into Danny, who was standing off to the side with his arms crossed watching the encounter unfold.

“Oops, sorry.” he catches and steadies you, keeping you from taking a tumble when you try to correct yourself but instead misstep.

I just cannot stop being clumsy for two seconds, can I?

“You sweet, sweet angel. You never have to apologize to me Danny,” already being in close proximity, you wrap him in the biggest hug you can manage. “That was my bad anyway.”

“Oh, wow. You’re so sweet, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Ditto, my friend.” you try not to think about how that was the best hug anyone has ever given you.

You introduce your friends to the rest of the band one at a time and return to Josh’s side, allowing everyone to get their hugs in, some lingering a bit longer than they should. Everyone mingles with each other discussing the events of the night, laughing about things that were thrown on stage and signs that were made until you notice Josh’s arm snaking its way around your waist to pull you flush against him.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” he whispers in your ear, “To the hotel this time?”

If smiles were contagious the one that splits your face in that moment would have everyone infected.

“Love to.” you nod to emphasize your point then turn to say your goodbyes to Quinn and Nina, who are probably just fine being left in their present company. The last thing you need is a thousand missed texts and calls from them if you were to just disappear into the night. Josh does no such thing and makes his move to whisk you away rather hastily.

Trevor, who was standing close by, escorts the two of you outside, blocking you from the view of a small huddle of girls waiting for a glimpse of the boys. You must have stood around talking for too long based on how many of them have accumulated. You make your way to a blacked out car waiting with a driver ready to go, and slide in as quickly as possible. It’s a short drive to the hotel but Josh insists on taking a moment to pick a song for the journey before taking off.

“Come on, Joshua” you roll your eyes playfully as he scrolls through an endless playlist.

“Shut up and hear me out, okay? The song choice is important!”

The first couple notes of Your Love play through the speakers, but he turns to you slowly to see your reaction like he just told you he knows your deepest darkest secrets.

“I thought you guys were supposed to have pretentious music taste?” you tease.

“What?! You don’t like this song? Who doesn’t like this song?!”

He breaks into song in the middle of the lyrics at the top of his lungs just for you, clearly to annoy you, but little does he know that everything he’s ever done is endearing beyond comprehension. You might have even been disappointed if he didn’t pull something that gave you just a tinge of secondhand embarrassment. His charisma and silliness are becoming and the way he’s singing, waiting for you to give in and humor him has you jumping in at the chorus, matching his energy. It’s the power ballad to end all power ballads.

I’m singing with Josh Kiszka. Josh is singing to me. What the fuck is my life becoming?

As the music fades out of the chorus and you’re left giggling at the antics, you look out your open window to feel the wind on your face and revel in the ambiance of the next song paired with passing street lights against a black sky. If you were paying attention you’d see Josh’s stare never left you. He’s watching you, fawning over you, taken by your beauty as you admire the night.

. . .

Josh lets you into the room first to venture in on your own, you look around briefly at nothing in particular until you hear the door close and lock. When he doesn’t immediately come to you, you turn to catch him subtly admiring you. He meets your gaze and reaches a hand out to you, his eyes are soft but set ablaze with determination.

“I don’t think you know how magnetic you are.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You take his hand, and once they’ve met he pulls you towards him, only to be turned and pressed against the wall at your back. He kisses you passionately just like earlier, you can feel the adrenaline thumping his heart against his ribcage so hard you think you could see it beneath his supple skin if you weren’t so occupied.

He grabs your ass with both hands and slides them down the backs of your thighs, guiding each one with an effortless lift to rest around his waist. You didn’t expect him to be so strong, but he cradles you with such care despite how ravenously his mouth moves down your chin to lap at your throat. In the darkest depths of your mind, you wish he would take a bite.

You grind your hips against the nearest thing you can, which happens to be his stomach, it heaves at the motion causing you to groan. Every little move you make elicits a clear visceral reaction, making the pit in your stomach tunnel deeper by the minute.

You want to tell him to tear you apart. You want to tell him to bury himself inside you and stay there until he’s contemplated his own existence, twice. All that you’re able to form into a coherent thought is “Joshy, more…”

“Making demands already?” he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You take no notice of his taunt and start pulling at his clothes blindly, making no real progress towards getting them off, to his amusement. An unmistakable poke makes itself known against your panties, which happen to be exposed to the air by the shortness of your skirt in your current position.

“Don’t ignore me, princess.” he runs his teeth along your collarbone as he digs into the meat of your thigh with his fingers, and a tortured moan vibrates out of you in return. “What do you say when you want something?”

“Please!” you practically scream “Dear God, please. Please just fuck me already!” The last of your self respect flies out the window, but to be fair it’s mostly been absent since he stepped out on stage to fuck the entire stadium.

One of his hands leaves your body, awkwardly and desperately reaching to unbuckle his pants, your faces pressed together cheek to cheek. You hold onto his shoulders on instinct to keep from falling to the floor, though he has you pinned so tightly between the wall and his own body you could let go of him entirely and remain in place. Your cunt pulses in anticipation when he ruts his freed cock against the thin material covering you. The wetness of your panties must be ridiculous, as the shaky breath coming from him feels beyond depraved.

“Y/n, oh my.. Fuck.” he slides it against the material once more while holding you still, using you in a sense, taking what he needs, and you wait patiently while he does.

Because that’s what good girls do.

He praises you while he reaches to pull your panties to the side and nuzzles his tip against your entrance. His head rolls back when he thrusts inside, leaving you huffing quick and shallow breaths against his ear, wisps of his hair tickling your nose as they’re blown around. He hums a sound of delight and settles into a comfortable yet delicious rhythm of bucking his hips up to meet your core.

“Who’s good girl are you? Say it.” he sounds like he might be close to his climax, so you humor him and fist your hand into his hair just how he likes it.

“I’m yours, Josh. I’m your good girl.”

I belong to you. I always will.

He whines at your response and his pace changes, speeding up but stuttering. He claws at your delicate top, tearing it at the neckline to rip down the middle, exposing your bouncing breasts to him in a way that would ignite the most perverted parts of any man’s brain.

“Are you gonna cum in me, baby?” you tighten your walls around him, approaching your own feeling of ecstasy.

He just nods fervently and adjusts his grip on your ass, his fingers wandering as far as they can to grab a handful until they’re almost touching in the middle. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t for him to use his grip to spread your cheeks, parting your folds to allow him an unobstructed reach into your depths. “I can’t fucking wait, I’m gonna…” he strains to speak, fucking into you to the hilt as he twitches inside you and cum overflows from your meeting point as he completely loses himself in you.

Carefully, he steps back with you still in his arms, retreating to take a seat on the edge of the bed. Still straddling him, you settle onto his cock which has yet to soften.

“I’m sorry, Peach. I got too excited.” his head rests on your shoulder as he catches his breath.

“No, don’t be sorry. I wanted you to cum, it feels good.”

“You can feel it?” the genuine surprise on his face when he looks up at you in pleased shock makes you giggle, and the sight of your delight makes him laugh along with you as he moves his hands to rub little circles over your hardened nipples.

“Yeah I can, I feel it right here… deep inside.” you place one finger between his hips in the center of his abdomen and press down, making him giggle uncontrollably and lurch to swat at your hand.

“No no no no, I’m ticklish!”

You hold your hands up in surrender, and after the laughing subsides, he lays back on the bed, sprawling out under your weight. “Well, I’m not gonna let you leave empty handed. Get up here.” he gestures for you to follow him by curling his finger at you and licks his lips.

You slide him out of you and shift your weight to move up his body until his head is between your legs.

“Other way, mama. Turn around.” you quirk an eyebrow at him but do as he says, carefully avoiding kneeing him in the face as you turn to face his feet. As you get into position, he rests his hands on the tops of your legs. “All the way down.”

You resist the urge to laugh. “I’ll crush you.”

“No you won’t, it’s ‘kay, I got you.” he wraps his arms all the way around your legs and lowers you until his extended tongue makes contact. Immediately he goes for the motions that spark pleasure in you the most, it makes you suspect that he’s learning your body quicker than any mediocre fuckboy ever has.

How his cock is still hard as a rock is beyond you, seemingly impossible, but makes for something to keep your hands busy with while he eats you like a last meal. You’ve spent an unreasonable amount of time on your own imagining what his cock looks like, having access to it this way feels like such a privilege.

Taking him in your hand, you lazily work your fist over him and lean just enough to leave kitten licks on the head of his cock, teasing it and coaxing flustered noises out of him that reverberate through your whole body. You rotate your hips the slightest bit, adjusting his position without breaking his concentration as he consumes you, sucking up the juices that leak out and lapping at your clit every time you let out a broken sigh.

“Josh.. don’t stop.”. That familiar building feeling begins its ascent when he sucks your clit into his mouth, leaving you mewling as you suckle on him helplessly.

Light muffled moans just cascade out of his chest with little words of affirmation peppered in, you swear you think you heard him say ‘so perfect’ under his breath, but you can’t be sure of his incoherent ramblings. After a few moments of enjoying the perfect pressure on your most sensitive parts, you let your orgasm wash over you, and you cum on his tongue that’s ventured back to your opening to dip inside and scoop out the spoils of his efforts. You almost stop him when he continues backward to spread your own cum around your other entrance, but the warm sticky feeling he swirls around with long languid strokes paralyzes you into a fucked out stupor.

“Feel better?” he sprinkles little kisses across your thighs, craning his neck to leave more and more as you swing your leg over to relieve him of his fleshy prison and collapse onto your back.

You manage a happy sounding ‘mmm’ when he climbs on top of you to kiss each of your cheeks and retreats to your side once you reciprocate with a peck on the tip of his nose and a smile. He relaxes into the bed with you, letting one hand fall into your hair, and you just lie together in your shared bliss.

. . .

You chat about nonsense for an unknown amount of time until the chill of the room forces you to finally stand up.

“Where are you going?”

“Just to the bathroom, gonna freshen up.” On the way there you grab your purse and your clothes, and thank your past self for having the foresight to pack a few toiletries in your bag the day before. As you’re about to close the door behind you, his voice stops you.

“Hey, Peach?”

“Yeah?” you poke your head back out into the room, he’s sitting up in bed and looking at you but you can’t quite place the look on his face.

“Will you… stay with me tonight? You can wear some of my clothes or I can grab some from Danny…” the concern in his voice could melt you, but you can’t tell if he’s scared of asking the question or what the answer might be. In a weird way though, it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

Be still my heart, he’s down bad.

“Oh, sweet boy. Without question.”

. . .

Josh has to be the handsiest person you’ve ever met. Not that you’re complaining. As you climb back into bed with him he executes no self-control and pulls you into his lap by your waist. If you’re being honest though, you’d let him manhandle you when and where he pleases. Especially now, when he seems unmotivated by sex and just holds you close, but still intimate since you’ve both opted out of pajamas for the night.

You’re absentmindedly wrapping his curly locks around your fingers in the comfortable stillness of his hotel room, surrounded by smoke from the joint he lit up, and listening to him tell you all about life on the road. A quick prompt of ‘what’s the next city on the roster?’ launched a rant that you have no plans on stopping. You really should be sleeping but to silence his perfect lips would be a crime.

Except for…

“Josh?” you accidentally interrupt at the arrival of an intrusive thought.

“Yes, sweetness?”

“When you said earlier that Im not part of the general population anymore, what did you mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of… infatuated with you.”

Infatuated with me? Why?

He reads the puzzled look on your face and continues.

“The way you speak about things and carry yourself. I can tell you’re special. Not only that, but from the first time I saw you I was drawn to you. It’s almost like the universe brought you to my feet. Your face was all tear-stained and your eyes were puffy but you stopped and saw me, you really saw me. I thought ‘this girl is looking into my soul’. ” too stunned to speak, you stay silent and let him carry on. “Ever since then you’ve just kept on astounding me. So when I said that I guess it was me letting you know I want you around, I want you with me.”

Holy shit. What?

. . . . . . .

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