#and Instead it's ''i better get this on tiktok and rake in the views''. well. YTA

[gender-euphowrya]

what is this fucking culture where when some people feel like their friends or family has wronged them in some way they think "what i'll do instead of communicating like a normal fucking person is record myself confronting them and post it online because people love content with conflict in it and i can milk this situation to my advantage"

[frozenlight-gvf]

I Hope You're Grateful for It

summary: (dom!josh x fem!reader) interrupting josh's pre-show ritual leads to some angry fuckin... enjoy

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI— language, degradation/praise, unprotected sex (don't do it folks), teasing, self-pleasure, penetration (f!receiving), overstimulation, semi-public sex if you squint...?

a/n: i was *inspired* by what josh said in their bts post on tiktok… joshua michael has me fighting for my life daily

***

You probably liked watching Josh get ready for shows more than actually watching him perform— if that was even possible. It was just something about the hazy, distant state he falls into; it’s as if he forgets that the people around him even exist until he’s onstage. It’s beyond endearing; it shows how much he cares about his performance and delivering for his fans.

One night, you had accidentally broken his focus to ask what he was always thinking so deeply about before his shows. Your voice had startled him and he blinked rapidly, like he had a bit of trouble returning to this plane of existence. He then sighed, mourning the loss of his own little world. “I’m just… connecting to the universe,” he had mumbled, trying to regain his trance-like state. “Getting out of my head and into the cosmos. Helps me perform better.” Frustrated, his eyebrows were stoic as he stared at his golden, glittering makeup in the reflection of a mirror, as if he were meditating to his own visage. After that night, you never bothered him before shows again: partly because you just loved seeing him be so divinely spiritual, but also, the way he was stone-cold when he answered your innocent question gave you goosebumps. You didn’t want to tempt that feeling again.

Perfectly content to just be in his presence, you loved sitting on whatever furniture happened to be in his dressing room at each venue and watching him roam about the space, popping a vitamin here, fixing a rhinestone there, all while seemingly completely unaware of your presence. And you were usually perfectly content with that— just watching. But not tonight.

Tonight, there was a certain heavy heat in the air. Maybe it was the warm weather, or maybe it was because of the way Josh’s new jumpsuit hugged his tight little body. Whatever it was, you were simply feverish.

Josh was facing the large mirror that covered most of one wall, spraying some sort of mist that smelled almost like champagne into his loose curls, raking them upward. He seemed to fall into the well of his own honey-brown eyes. You would have killed to know what was going on in that brilliant mind of his.

You squeezed your thighs together, hoping to squander that all-too-familiar feeling inside you. You knew how important Josh’s pre-show ritual was to him, and you didn’t want your neediness to ruin that. That one night you'd unknowingly interrupted his process, he forgot the words to parts of Safari Song and Broken Bells, and then he choked on his nightly Fireball shot instead of taking it down smoothly like he always does. You’d never seen him so disappointed in himself, and it had broken your heart. You couldn’t help but blame yourself, so you vowed to treat Josh’s ritual like it was some holy rite from then on.

But tonight, you couldn’t stomp out the fire that was gradually growing hotter beneath your ribcage. The way his chin dipped to see the hair further back on his head, the way he stared up at himself from below his solemn eyebrows. The way you had a perfect view of his ass and the shimmery white satin that clung to it.

There was just no more ignoring the tingling under your skin. You needed to do something about the throbbing between your legs. More like, you needed him to do something about it.

You risked standing up, knowing full well that your sudden action was visible to him in the mirror. It wasn’t until you started hesitantly walking towards him that his eyes flicked over to meet yours.

“What is it, honey?” There was something a little sticky and sour about the way he said your pet name.

His voice stopped you in your tracks about three feet away from him. You scared yourself with what you were doing. You didn’t want to be doing it, but you could no longer deny your urges, which were quickly bordering on primal.

But your thought process hadn’t gotten you this far; you had no idea what to say. “...Nothing. Nothing important.” There was an embarrassing, telling tremor in your voice. You should have just sat back down right after speaking and forgotten the whole thing, but you didn't. You couldn’t have moved in that moment if you tried. His eyes bore into yours; the intensity of his stare was overwhelming as it ricocheted off the silver glass and into you.

An imperceptible lifting of his eyebrows signaled to you that he knew what you were trying to get from him. His lips twitched. “Honey," Josh sighed, "you know I love you, but you also know that my pre-show ritual is vital to my performance." Something in his voice betrayed the words he had spoken and made you think that he was actually eager to see what you’d do next.

You let the silence hang delicately between you like it was as fragile as a teacup as you decided where to take this.

“I know, I just,” you paused to inhale deeply, “can’t stop thinking about how good that jumpsuit looks on you,” you said, pointedly raking your eyes down his back. You felt your heart start to quicken, anxious for his response.

He cocked an eyebrow at you through the mirror. “Oh, yeah?” He considered this for a moment. You held your breath as you watched his icy gaze drift back to his own eyes. “Tell me what you like about it.”

Fuck. Let the game begin, you thought. A wave of relief— and unbridled lust— soaked you to the bone, making you shiver. “Well,” you began, greedily scanning the detail that covered his body, achingly eager to follow orders. “I love this belt.” You reached out to ghost your fingertips over the flat golden cording that sat right over his hips.

He suddenly turned to face you, and you sucked in a breath at the sight of his smooth chest and the golden necklaces that hung against his tanned skin.

“This neckline…” you softly traced the trim of the cutout with a barely-there touch, careful not to graze any part of his skin, hoping he would get desperate to feel your hands on him, letting you in further. But you knew teasing him like this was crossing a line. He was looking down at you with a stern expression, but the corner of his lip quivered, signifying a crack in his steely armor.

Your hand glided over his chest, just hovering over the jewels that decorated the gilded peacock feathers that ornamented both sides of his sternum.

“I love these feathers… you look like a king.”

He puffed his chest at the praise, imperceptibly tilting his chin upwards. God, you wanted him.

“These sleeves,” you said, running your hands down the silky, transparent fabric covering his arms.

“You like that?” His voice was a low rumble in his chest.

“Very much,” you breathed, itching to feel the valleys and ridges of his defined muscles unimpeded by the bedazzled cloth.

Seemingly reading your mind, he said, “They’re removable.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his hopefully, pathetically. He knew that his arms were your favorite part of his body, and he was holding it against you. He chuckled at your desperate reaction.

“If you think I’m gonna take apart my outfit so close to showtime, you’re sorely mistaken.” His eyes were dark: with anger or with lust, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t know if you really cared. Or even if it mattered. As long as the aching feeling inside you that was growing unbearable was taken care of.

You whined, squeezing your thighs together again, desperate for relief. A switch inside Josh flipped at the sound, his jaw tightening.

“Ohhh,” he crooned, “too bad you can’t always get what you want.”

He turned away from you to face the mirror again, brushing your hands off his arms like you were a bothersome fly.

“Josh…” You were scared for a moment that he was upset with you, but you knew that if he actually was, he wouldn't be teasing you so mercilessly. So you decided to tease back.

Your hands drifted from the very tops of his shoulders all the way down to the small of his back, then you dragged your palms up the sides of his hips and waist, hooking your arms under his shoulders and resting your hands on his chest-- right over the peacock feathers. You felt him tense up beneath your touch, and you couldn't help the smirk that crossed your lips.

“No, doll, I need to do well at this show tonight. Some people from the label will be watching.” He pressed a few of the rhinestones tracing his cheekbones firmly back into their place. His fingers trembled slightly.

“Please,” you whispered, kissing his shoulder, and then the bare skin at crook of his neck. “I need you.”

He suddenly slammed his palm down on the counter, making you flinch and let go of him. He leaned on his arms, once again locking eyes with you through the mirror. His eyes were roiling and sparking like storm clouds. “As much as I’d love to fuck you right here in this dressing room until you’re screaming my name for everyone backstage to hear, I said no. Now, sit down.”

You gulped, unsure of how to react. You then realized that you were going to have to turn your brattiness up by 100 if you were going to get what you wanted. Huffing, you stamped one of your heeled feet, not unlike a child. Immediately, he whipped around to face you, eyes thundering.

“Are you actually giving me attitude right now?” he barked, in utter disbelief at your bad behavior. “You know better than that.” His voice was full of urgent warning, his nose snarling.

This is it. Now or never. “Maybe you need to teach me some manners.”

The last thing you were expecting Josh to do after hesitating for what felt like hours was let out a dark, slow chuckle, shaking his head. He stalked towards you, slotting his face right over your shoulder, hands firmly by his side, knowing you were burning for his touch. The heat of his body so close to yours almost made your knees buckle. Despite his laughter, his anger wasn't gone; it had hardened into something that made goosebumps shiver on every inch of your skin. You could feel nothing but his hot, steady breath ghosting over the shell of your ear for a few agonizing moments before he spoke, lips barely grazing the cartilage.

“I should fuck that sass right out of you, honey."

You nearly moaned, but you choked it back.

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he growled.

You nodded quickly, inhaling sharply. His dominant side never failed to have you weak in the knees.

“Then you better do exactly what I say," he enunciated. "You misbehave once, and you get nothing. You’ll just have to sit in those soaked panties for the whole show, watching all those girls begging for me to take them right then and there.” He laughed again, low and demeaning. “You understand how lucky you are, correct?”

“Yes.” The sound came out nothing more than a breath, scenes of the earth-shattering pleasure to come filling your thoughts. You let your eyes slip shut to enjoy it.

Josh roughly grabbed your jaw and wrenched your face to be mere centimeters from his, your eyes flying open.

“I’m gonna need you to be louder than that, honey,” he purred. He gestured his head towards the dressing room door, in the direction of the stage and the thousands of seats that were being filled as he spoke. “Those girls out there are gonna be screaming for me, and you can't get your sorry little voice above a whisper?" He looked away from you for a moment, running his tongue over his lips. "Why should I fuck you and not them, huh? I bet they’d be good girls for me. They’d do anything I told them.”

You didn’t waste a moment to slip into full, unabashed submission. Your legs were shaking already.

“Thank you, Josh, for choosing me,” you said, with passionate energy in your voice, pressing your hands against his chest and looking up at him desperately. “I know how lucky I am to be in your bed every night, to have you on top of me. To feel you inside me.”

Josh licked his lips again, slower this time, leaving them a deep pink and shiny. “That’s more like it. Now,” he let go of your jaw, leaving pale red finger marks, “sit back down in the couch.”

You scrambled away from him, not able to get seated fast enough. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t make you do right now with just the sound of his rich, lust-rasped voice.

“Take your skirt off. Leave your top and underwear on.”

The backs of your thighs were soon deliciously bared on the soft suede of the couch. The feeling of your intimate skin against the worn fabric made you wonder how many other girls found themselves in this same tantalizing situation with their own rockstar boyfriends. The idea turned you on beyond belief: to be one of many lucky girls.

“Let’s see how bad you really needed this. If you're not dripping right now, we're done here.” Josh remained standing over you, placing one hand on the arm of the couch, reaching his other one down to feel the wetness that had soaking your panties for the past half hour.

You sighed in pleasure, feeling your entire body relax and relishing in the feeling of his strong fingers pressing against your clothed center.

“Oh, wow,” he taunted derisively, clearly pleased at your arousal. Too pleased. His ego almost visibly soared. “I've barely touched you. All this from just looking at me?”

"Yes," you breathed, lifting your hips into his touch. "I've been thinking about this all night." Suddenly, the hand that was on the arm of the couch splayed out on your lower stomach, and Josh used his upper body weight to push your hips roughly back down into the couch, leaning down on you.

“That was a 'yes' or 'no' question. I didn't ask you to elaborate. You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Josh, I understand," you whined, already overly sensitive.

"Yes, what?" he asked darkly, pulled his fingers away from you, eliciting a pitiful whimper. He moved the hand that was on your stomach to the side of your hip, gripping the plush skin hard, the pain tingeing the edges of your vision. He was still pressing you down hard into the couch, making the lower half of your body near immobile.

"Yes, sir."

"Better." He relented his force on your hip just a little bit as a reward. "From now on, unless I ask you a question, the only sounds out of your mouth should be those pretty noises you always make when I touch you like this.” He pressed the pads of his fingers harder into your clothed clit, making you throw your head back in desperation. You needed to feel his fingers on you. In you. You wanted nothing more than to scream at him exactly what you needed to have him do to you, but you only let pathetic moans slip out of you, careful to follow his instructions.

He slowly peeled your panties away from your center, the dark, wet patch on the fabric prominent. Josh smirked sinisterly at the unmistakable evidence of his prowess, and the look he gave you was almost desperate. He could play the unrelenting dominant all he wanted, but he was always going to give you anything you desired, anytime, anywhere-- you both knew that, making this little game exhilarating to play.

You bucked your hips in the air, craving his touch.

"You want my fingers back on your needy little cunt?"

"Please, God, yes!" you shouted a little too loudly, your voice filling the room. You blushed at your outburst, a little embarrassed.

But Josh loved it. "Ohhhh, that's a good girl," he cooed, teasing the tips of his pointer and middle finger at your slick entrance. "So loud for me."

He slipped his two fingers inside of you, pushing free a high-pitched moan from you. Pleasure was sparking through your veins as he curled his fingers to massage that spot deep inside you that only he seemed to be able to find, sending tendrils of euphoria up through your body.

You watched with lust-blown eyes as he kneeled down between your legs, and you couldn't help but notice his growing bulge, proud and pronounced in his skin-tight jumpsuit.

He followed your eyeline, and he smirked. "You want it, angel?"

"Yes, please, sir, I want it." Your words were slightly slurred, overcome with pleasure, his fingers pumping in and out of you, brushing that mouth-watering spot each time.

"I've got about 10 minutes before I have to go onstage. You're gonna have to be a lot more convincing than that if you want me to completely undress just so I can fill you with my cock instead of my fingers."

"God, please, Josh- sir," you pleaded, "I need to feel you inside me. My pussy's all wet and warm for you. So pretty and tight."

Josh groaned low in his chest, knowing he had just fallen past the point of no return. He stood and unzipped his jumpsuit and pulled off the sleeves, letting the top half of the jumpsuit hang around his hips, leaving his torso bare. He pushed the white satin down to his thighs, freeing himself. His cock looked painfully hard, the tip red and throbbing. You smiled to yourself, knowing his arousal was all your doing. Before you knew it, he was buried to the hilt inside of you, his hands grabbing your hips. The mix of pain and pleasure was utterly blinding, causing your jaw to drop and your eyes to blow wide open.

"You better be a good fucking girl for me and not make me regret this. You interrupt my pre-show process-" he paused to hiss as you clenched around him, his eyes rolling back, "-jesus... and you have me take off my pretty outfit because you couldn't take care of yourself. Pathetic little whore," he choked, pulling out of you and slamming back in. You moaned loudly, starting to see stars.

He growled through his teeth, "I hope that you feel fucking grateful for it."

"Thank you, sir," you gasped, feeling the slight drag of your walls gripping his length as he worked in and out of you achingly slow. "I'll be such a good girl for you, promise."

"Take off your shirt. And your bra. Show yourself to me."

The pleasure flooding your brain tried to block the signals it was sending to your arms to move, but you fought your instincts to please the man who was rocking his hips against you steadily. Your bare breasts fell out of your top, and Josh moaned deep and long when he saw that you forwent your usual underwear.

"No bra, huh? Filthy slut," he grimaced, his cock twitching inside of you. "Play with them for me, honey."

You happily obliged, fondling your full breasts, pinching and tugging at your nipples, sending shockwaves through your skin. Your face was contorted in mind-blowing pleasure, your lips parted and letting loose strings of whimpers.

The vulgar sights and sounds of you taking him so well spurred Josh on, working himself up to a threatening pace, pushing you back into the couch repeatedly. "Shit-- you feel so good," he purred. You let yourself get lost in the outrageous sensuality of his face: eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed, pink lips wet and parted, a blush high on his cheeks. A sweat had begun to form on his proud brow.

You lost control of all of your senses when Josh reached down with one hand to rub hard circles over your wet clit, cursing loudly. "Fuck, Josh!" You grabbed at his thick arms, pressing your nails into the skin, leaving marks. You were close.

Josh clasped a strong hand over your mouth, making you squeak with surprise. He leaned in close to hiss into your ear, "What did I say about not speaking unless you're spoken to?" He did not stop or slow any of his movements, making it unthinkably hard for you to string words together.

"I'm sorry, sir, I- fuck, fuck- wasn't supposed to do that. Please don't stop."

He slapped one of your tits, hard. You yelped, the pain exponentially increasing your pleasure. He grabbed the rounded-- now slightly red-- flesh of your breast, squeezing tightly.

"You get one more chance, doll. Follow the rules or I leave your sorry little cunt dripping all over this couch."

"Yes, sir!" you cried out, the sound turning into an obscene moan.

"You're so close, aren't you?" he crooned. His thrusts were bordering on sloppy, his hips hitching, as if his dick couldn't handle the pleasure your pussy was giving it. "Gonna cum all over my cock?"

"God, FUCK-- yes!"

"Let me hear how grateful you are for it."

Just barely, the faint sound of a thousand screaming girls made it's way through the dressing room door. The lights in the arena had just gone dark. You didn't have much longer to reach your high, and you wouldn't put it past him to follow through with his threat of leaving you here, pathetically leaking with the absence of him.

"I need your cock so bad, sir, more than anything. Thank you. I'm gonna cum so pretty for you." The words eeked out of you between gasps and sobs, unable to bring yourself to full voice. The feeling of Josh's dick stretching you so well and his fingers working your swollen, throbbing clit had you teetering over the edge.

"Come on then, pretty girl, give it to me." His sweat-damp curls were sticking to his forehead, lust-blown eyes drilling into your fucked-out gaze.

Your entire body was trembling, but you couldn't send yourself over. Josh's movements were now bordering on painful, but you'd have rather dropped dead than have him stop.

"I- I can't!" you sobbed, tears filling your eyes and spilling over your lashes. Josh felt too. damn. good.

Josh wrapped his fingers around your throat tightly, pressing into your pulse points. He bared his teeth as he growled in your face, so close that his facial hair tickled your skin. "Honey, we don't have much time. If you don't cum for me right now, I'll have to bring you out on the stage and make you finish on my cock in front of everybody."

You screamed as your orgasm ripped through you like lightning, fire burning through your skin. You thought for a moment that your body would tear itself apart. Your head was spinning; you hardly heard Josh's loud moans and grunts as he finished deep inside you, his cock jumping and quivering inside your rapidly clenching walls. You both rode each other through your highs, pitifully whimpering together. Mascara was streaming down your face, your mind completely empty.

You sat there panting as Josh pulled out of you. He rested his forehead on yours, his hot breath washing over your face. He cupped a hand on your jaw. "Fuck, baby, you make me feel so, so good."

Loud pounding at the door startled both of you. An urgent voice shouted through the wood, "Josh, what the hell are you doing?! The curtain is gonna drop any second now."

Guilt and fear took the place of euphoria in your veins. "Oh, shit, baby, I'm sorry, let me help you get dressed," you breathed, fighting your shaking muscles to stand.

"No, honey, you have nothing to be sorry for. Stay right there." He kissed you on the forehead and rushed into the on-suite bathroom, quickly running a washcloth under some warm water. The pounding at the door didn't cease, the door jiggling against the deadbolt.

He gently ran the washcloth between your legs, the feeling of it causing a new blossom of pleasure in your stomach.

He pulled his jumpsuit back on, cursing as he fiddled with the zipper. You swatted his hands away and zipped it up for him, standing to press a kiss to his lips.

"Go, my little rockstar. Knock 'em dead."

He gave you a fucked-out little smile, squeezed your bare waist, and ran towards the door, but he stopped in his tracks with his hand on the doorknob.

"Shit, I forgot my sleeves!"

"Fuck the sleeves, Josh," you laughed. "Go."

He shook his head with a grin.

"God, you're trouble, honey."

***

It took you a good few minutes to recover enough to put your clothes back on and be able to stand without wobbling. Once you didn't look like a baby doe on ice, you took your place at the side of the stage just as the band finished the first song. Despite fibers of pleasure still lingering in your body, you were flooded with nerves, remembering the fact that you had disrupted his pre-show ritual so entirely. Scenes from the last time you had done that flashed through your mind: the way he shook his head disappointedly at himself when he forgot lyrics, the disconnected way that he sang, the bright-red blush that covered his face when he choked on the cinnamon-y liquid that poured down his throat. You found yourself casting your eyes downward, not wanting to watch your boyfriend crash and burn because of you as the cue for the second song began.

But, Josh did whatever the opposite of crashing and burning was. His voice sounded better than you had ever heard it; his crystal-clear tones and his powerful cries reverberated through the space, completely enchanting you and every other soul in the audience like he was a siren. You couldn't pull your eyes away from him; it was like the Universe had imbued him with his own magnetic field, and everyone in his vicinity couldn't do anything but surrender and let themselves be pulled in. With your gaze so intently locked on him, you couldn't help but notice little signs of your rendezvous all over him-- sweat glistened on his neck and chest, his lips were red and swollen, his curls were frizzy and untamed, and he was missing a few rhinestones on his cheeks. You laughed to yourself, knowing the fans were going to spin themselves into a tizzy seeing him so obviously fucked-out. A swell of pride burst within you; you knew that Josh's empty threat to toss you to the curb and fuck one of the girls in the audience would never come true. You were the only one that he wanted; you were his. And he was yours.

***

The show ended with a not-so-metaphorical bang as jets of fire shot into the air, washing the arena with the same heavy heat you had felt earlier that night. Josh wailed a farewell into the mic after they hit their final button, and he trotted offstage towards you, exploding with swagger and immense satisfaction. In his bejeweled sunnies and fluffy feather boa, he looked like a star.

"Oh my, God, you did so great, baby!" you squealed as you threw your arms around him and peppered his face with kisses. Charged with energy, Josh picked you up and spun you around as you giggled against his face.

"All because of you," he panted, slightly out of breath as he set you down, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Me?" you said incredulously. "No, that was all you. I was so nervous because I ruined your whole process, and I know how important that is to your performance, and I was so scared that I had fucked everything up for you-"

Josh stopped your rambling with a kiss that started sincere but grew heated quite quickly. He licked into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours. You stayed like that for a while with complete disregard for the roadies that had to weave around you to start breaking down the stage. You two breathed hot and heavy into each other's mouths.

"Fuck all that," he said, as he tilted your chin up and pressed a small kiss to your lips.

You were taken aback at his brash words. "W-what do you mean?"

He laughed. "Baby, I just performed like that without all the spiritual bullshit," he said, gesturing to the stage behind him. You couldn't help the pleasure that shot to your head from his semi-conceited remark. His confidence was beyond sexy to you. He paused, squeezing your hips, making your breath catch in your throat. Josh nuzzled his face against your cheek, his facial hair tickling your skin. He whispered sensually into your ear, "Honey, you're my new pre-show ritual."

*