#to my personal online stalker | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

birdantlers · 1 year ago

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A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

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Muting notifs

#artists on tumblr #Artistic #digital art #art history #anthropology #humanity #art discussion #art theory #skit yells

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getvalentined · 1 year ago

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Cons to Dreamwidth: You cannot block people from following your blog or getting alerts when you post publicly, and you cannot remove followers or subscribers. This means that if you want to keep someone from getting a notification every time you post something, you have to permanently set your entire blog's security to friends-only visibility. When a friend and I asked about this, because I have a stalker that is currently still subscribed to my old DW account whose affiliation I cannot remove, we were both told in no uncertain terms that there is no intention to ever change this, and if someone in my position wants to feel remotely safe on their platform they should just lock down their account and hide forever.

The rest is good, I'm not gonna lie, but I can't use it because the owner literally said that people in my position should just hide forever if they don't want someone who literally tried to kill them to get a notification every single time they post something.

If that's not a concern of yours, then by all means use DreamWidth. It's a good platform with good features made and maintained by good people. I know I'm a (fairly) unique circumstance, and I wouldn't tell anyone not in my position to avoid the platform.

Near as I can tell, Dreamwidth's biggest selling points right now are:

Porn is allowed

NFTs/crypto can fuck off (more info from one of the site owners)

Posts viewed in (reverse) chronological order

Actual privacy options

I can't say it's everything your average Tumblrite wants, but it's still a helluva lot better than far too many other options.

#I didn't even want to like #render myself invisible #or even to like permanently block this person necessarily #they're very public about their identity #too proud to hide #but I can't even remove them from my subscriber list #I can't keep them from getting alerts about me #I can't use the platform #because those features make it EASIER for them to stalk me #I'd willingly remove them manually every day if that were an option #but it's not #in the name of 'online safety' apparently #because it's safer to let my stalker know when I'm online #than to allow me to remove them from my subscriber list #somehow #according to Denise #I'm sure she has reasons for thinking this #but uhhhhh #I think maybe #that's not quite correct #she basically said they would block evade #so it wouldn't matter #but like that doesn't seem like a good reason #to FACILITATE the stalking

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witchplease-freakbitch · 2 years ago

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Hiding won't help you 💚

#little burnt down paradise #asylumdoll thoughts #to my personal online stalker

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vlvtrkii · 2 years ago

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I'm not here to be active <3

#Istg i hate those stalkers so much bro #Like i already didn't had so much anxiety and shit going on #Like idk if people understand that for a person with serious anxiety issues even platforms like Tumblr #Which are basically filled with same kind of people still can be hard #Like Idk if people understand much when i say that i am so scared of what others feel and think abt me and IDC if it's online bro #Thinking that there might be someone looking at my blog and disliking it for even a slightest would literally make me so insecure but Naa #Still there are gonna be people gonna do the exact same shit like bruhhhhhh #I hate you irl people #I hate you stalkers #I hate you bitches tryna be like me rip to y'all ig #I swear I'm gonna take it slow and try me best to stay way away from dramas i'm done 👍😀

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johnbrand · 4 months ago

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Profile Picture

Anthony had been avoiding it for over a week and now the social media manager was getting antsy. All the new frat members were supposed to submit a picture to be introduced in profiles online. It made sense, but Anthony just did not have any good pictures of himself. Typically, people sent in their senior pictures, but Anthony had not had any taken. The last decent portrait he owned was from junior year when he had had braces.

“UGH!” Anthony sighed loudly, exasperated as he locked himself into a bathroom. Worst part of it all was that he could not escape the issue because he LIVED with these people. He had run into three of the other frat boys on the way here, one of whom insisted on shaking hands as he flew by. Typically, Anthony was short enough to literally hide; people would just overlook him so that he could scurry away unnoticed. But now he was trapped, making a deal out of something that probably should not have been in the first place.

“If only I had been narcissistic enough to have taken a selfie once in my life,” Anthony groaned.

Suddenly, his phone lit up with a new notification. A text from a contact named “Michael.”

“Hey dude, it was great to meet you,” it read. Anthony wondered how the blond jock he had just met in the hallway already had his number. Let alone, why. Most people seemed to be put off by his personality, especially the hot, muscular ones. Anthony’s height was also a deterrent, as was his weight. Well actually, just about anything else one could think of.

“How did you get my number?” Anthony adjusted his glasses almost subconsciously.

“Got it last night from you at the party,” came the reply. “Must’ve knocked you out pretty hard if you don’t remember.”

For a moment Anthony was not sure what Michael meant. He had only rushed this frat for the bullet point on his resume; he would have never gone to a college party. Or at least Anthony could not imagine having gone to one.

“Don’t you remember? That chick Nicole was all over you. I couldn’t help but get jealous.” Michael sent a laughing emoji before continuing. “She’s always been into the tall, ‘All-American’ kinda man.”

Anthony laughed as he checked himself out in the mirror. He did fit that bill pretty well. His body was practically built by the Midwest; corn-fed and stacked with beef. Anthony worked out all the time to maintain his thick-yet-polished frame. And at 6’3, all the muscle made Anthony appear even larger. He was almost always staring down at others, but that was just natural for men his size.

“Yeah she was pretty crazy,” Anthony awkwardly replied. He had told her countless times that he simply did not swing that way. “I’m just glad someone else noticed. She had no chill, man.”

“She’s got a real hankering for the blond-hair, blue-eyes combo. It’s like something that really sets her off. You might get yourself a stalker if you’re not careful.”

Anthony’s smile broadened. Had Nicole really been that easy to read? Yeah, his sparkling sapphire eyes and luscious golden locks were usually enthralling, that was why he never covered them up. But that girl had really been on to him last night–more than Anthony was used to from others. “I could probably handle a girl like her.”

“I know. I’m just teasing,” Michael replied quickly. “I know you like when a girl is crazy for you anyway, all that attention goes right to the big boy downstairs.”

That text confused Anthony at first, but after a quick squeeze to his thickening python, he felt himself agreeing.

“What can I say,” Anthony smirked, continuing to paw himself. “I like to have a good girl who understands her place.

“Now stop fagging out on yourself in the mirror and get out here!" Michael responded. "This new pool is sick, and all the sorority chicks are here in their skimpiest bikinis.”

That final line made Anthony’s juicy dick spurt a bit into his tight, American-flag print swim shorts. Cockily, he posed in front of the mirror and took a picture of his studly body. Anthony then sent it to Michael before hurriedly exiting the bathroom. By the time Michael had forwarded the image onto the social media manager, Anthony had already acclimated into the pool, a swarm of hungry girls eagerly surrounding him.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #dumbification #jock tf #fratification #Michael

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satorusugurugurl · 3 months ago

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Toji as a bodyguard

Til’ the Day that I Die

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Bodyguard!Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of stage right, performance, anxiety, stalking, panic attacks, language mentions of gun, (eventual smut)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: this request is amazing!! It got my brain worms going! Once again, this will be a multi part series, I’m looking at a total of four parts as I have already planned down the whole story. I’m sorry for the lack of content, it’s been a rough few days and I just decided to take some time for myself! But I do have about four stories almost done so you can expect updates for the rest of the week! Love you all!! (Readers' stage persona is highly inspired by several artists! 😊)

Part Two Part Three Part Four

Performance anxiety is defined as an excessive feeling of fear related to being able to perform well. Symptoms of performance anxiety include pulse racing, rapid breathing, dry mouth, and throat tightness. Dealing with performance anxiety when you're a rising star is brutal, and you begin to regret all your life choices. You aren't sure if you want this to be your life. You were attending nursing school, but your sister posted a video of you singing online. Reading all the sweet comments was fun initially, but it's funny how fast things change.

One second, you were posting a few videos of you singing, and the next thing you knew, you had a record deal, your songs were on the radio, and you were performing at concerts. All in the span of six months. The attention was overwhelming, and, at times, your anxiety even worse. But the more you performed, the more you were able to bury the stage fright down, masking the fear with a persona you made until you were home in your apartment. In the confines of your home, you could cry and tremble; dealing with those attacks was something you’d gotten used to.

But your stalker was a whole new fucked up mess you never dreamed about dealing with.

It had started as nothing more than a couple of love letters that turned into more descriptive letters detailing information about your personal life you had never told anyone. Anytime you saw a letter come in with ‘M’ written on the front and dark gray ink, your stomach twisted. You at first thought you would be okay. You could handle something like this. This was the kind of thing that came along with the territory of being famous.

That was until a bouquet of roses was dropped off at your door in your guarded apartment building. That whole situation sent you into a full-blown panic attack. You left your apartment and went to stay with your friends. That incident caused your manager to contact Kong Security Services and hire you as a bodyguard. One, you were anxiously waiting to meet as you sat in your dressing room before your show.

“It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Nanako, your makeup artist, assured you as she fixed your blush. “Geto said this agency is the best in the business.”

You shot her a skeptical look while her twin sister fixed your hair. “Are you just saying that because your dad’s are my managers, and they told you to say that?” When both twins had ceased their movements in obvious shock at your to-the-point accusation.

“W-What—?”

“No, never!”

“Uh-huh—I don’t believe a word either of you are saying right now.”

Nanako steps back, looks you over, and bites her lip. “They really are the best, whether or not we get to go out for Boba after this. It’s not like sweet milk tea is on the line if we don’t ease your nerves.” Just as your sweet young makeup artist finishes, the door to your dressing, eyes darting towards the door as it swings further open. Suguru and his husband, Satoru, enter, displaying their matching black-and-white wedding rings. They were the best management company in the world, the power couple of Tokyo. Satoru, who was in charge of your social media accounts, types viciously on his phone while Suguru grins up at a man walking in with them.

If you could even call him a man.

A fucking mountain of muscle is a more appropriate way of describing him. He’s tall, has dark hair and navy blue eyes, and he’s fit. The mountain wore a tailored jacket and white button-down shirt with the first two buttons undone. His eyes leave Geto’s for a minute to watch you sinking further in your chair, his pink tongue running over the scar down the corner of the right side of his mouth.

“Hun, this is Fushiguro Toji,” Suguru announced before glancing at his phone. “He’s your bodyguard and will be with you everywhere you go.”

“E-Everywhere?”

“Yes, to rehearsals, your shows, meet-and-greets, he’ll even escort you home.” Your eyes rammed back over to the mountain of a man standing off to the side. When you have time off, or he needs a day away, his work partner Tsukumo Yuki will take over for him.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching, a subtle action your new bodyguard noticed immediately as you dug your fingers into your skirt. It was part of Toji‘s job to see behaviors and be observant. He could tell you were on edge from how your fingers twitched to how your pulse raced in your neck. His handler, Shiu, had warned him that you were an anxious mess after finding out about your stalker. But this anxiety didn’t come from just having a stalker. This anxiety was deeply rooted in you. It was probably something you had suffered with for years.

Without being told, Toji stepped forward, kneeling before you, giving you a gentle smile like a father would give a frightened child. He had to put your nerves at ease to let you know you would be okay. “I know you’re scared, but I can assure you that I am very skilled. You won’t even notice I’m around.” You weren’t sure about that. How could you not notice the handsome man who would always be around you?

“Right, thank you.”

“You’re welcome--”

“Ugh! We gotta get going; they expect you on stage in five minutes.”

“I-I s-shou—” you stuttered as the performing anxiety began to root itself into your already anxious demeanor.

“Yep, let’s get going.” Toji stood motioning towards the door of the dressing room. “After you, Miss.”

Being a bodyguard and a security escort for so long had allowed Toji to pick up on specific cues from people, like how their eyes moved around the room or how their body language told him what they were feeling. The way your fingers were twitching, he knew you were nervous and scared, and he wasn’t sure if it was stage fright or something to do with your stalker.

Regardless of whether you wanted to go up there, it didn’t change the fact that thousands of people were already waiting for you to perform. As you both walked down the hall, Tojo noticed you took a deep breath and exhaled through your nose, and as you turned the corner, you put on a huge smile. The way you put in a mask so fast nearly sent Toji stumbling back. He was usually prepared for the unexpected, but seeing this scared, shaking woman shift into a bubbly pop star rocked him back.

Everyone you encountered smiled wide at your perky voice and demeanor. You truly lit up the whole room. “Alright, guys! Thank you for all your hard prep! Now, let’s have a great show tonight!” You were handed a jeweled microphone and placed on a platform to lift you to the main stage, but before you gripped the handles to steady yourself, Toji grabbed your hand. “Oh, Fushiguro?”

“I'll be on the side, watching you. If you need me or notice something's off, you should give me a sign.”

“A sign? Like a signal?”

“Yeah, something easy and inconspicuous.”

You thought for a second, that perky look still on your face, but Toji could see the anxiety behind your eyes. “Well, I wink a lot during my shows and throw a heart sign up.” Toji hummed, pursing his lips together.

“Well, if you don't want to alarm your fans, how about this.” he took your hand, putting your middle and ring finger down. Your thumb, pinky, and pointer finger were left extended.

“Oh, the sign for ‘I love you’!”

“Only use this if you need me on stage. Otherwise, do what you normally do, but know I’ll be right there if you need me.”

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes, which probably would go unnoticed by many different people, but it was one that he could see clearly as day. “Right, thank you, Fushiguro.” Your new bodyguard looked at you as he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Toji, just call me Toji. There is no need for formalities. Have a good show, Miss.”

“R-Right, thank you, Toji.”

Your new bodyguard watched as the platform began to lift, taking you up to the stage where fans were screaming your name. Taking a deep breath before smiling, your bodyguard watched you reach the top before the band blaring music as you began singing into your microphone. The beat of the music rang in his ears; Toji ran for the stairs that led him to the stage, where he could watch you from the side.

There, Toji found your managers standing on the sidelines, watching you. Upon looking at you, he met a woman who looked nothing like the girl he had just spoken to moments before. You danced, sang, smiled, and winked at the crowd. Multicolored lights flashed as fog from the fog machine flooded the stage, and the backup dancers moved in sync with each other. I think this is poor, who was shaking upon meeting him.

“Yeah, crazy to see her shift, isn’t it?” Geto asked before pulling his phone out and snapping a few photos of you as you sang. “She’s like a different person.”

“Like? I hate to be the one to break this to you, Geto, but that woman is a completely different person. Why the fuck is she masking?”

The white-haired man glared at Toji, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “She’s not masking; it's called a stage persona.” The annoyance was clear in the other man’s voice, a tone that crawled its way under his skin.

“Look, buddy, keep your terms to yourself. I don't care about the different terms. All I know is that woman—” he jabbed his thumb in your direction as you twirled around the stage. “is masking; that’s not who she is.”

“You don’t know a lot about the entertainment industry. This is something that a lot of celebrities do. It’s completely normal, and she knows that. That’s how she adapted so fast.”

Toji wasn’t sure if that was the case. He had seen you firsthand, shaking in your dressing room. To see you change drastically for the sake of a show? Toji could see why you would be nervous to go up on stage. There had to be a fear of your mask slipping, revealing your true persona to the world.

But Satoru was right; Toji’s job was to protect and ensure you were safe. It wasn’t his place to judge how you lived or worked your career. In the end, you were just like all the other popstar divas and clients he had had before. Rich people with too much money to throw around and fame led them to believe that they were in danger all the time, which is how he managed to keep a steady income for himself and his kids as long as they were rich snobs like you, Tojo was guaranteed to have a job.

Instead of continuing to argue with your overzealous manager, Toji crossed both arms over his chest and watched you closely. The sooner the show was over, the sooner he could get you back to your apartment, where he could call to check on Megumi. He just wanted to relax, and for all he knew, you and your managers were overreacting to this so-called stalker you had. If anything, this might’ve been some cruel prank; receiving a note to roses wasn’t that big of a deal, and this was way too easy for as much as he was getting paid, so he wasn’t going to bitch about it.

What he did want to bitch about was how fucking long your show went on for. Performed for about two hours straight, only taking breaks to change costumes throughout the performance. It was in those moments when you were changing that your mask slipped. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes and how you wanted to do nothing more than take a break. But as fast as that mask slipped, you had it back on instantly. When one costume was off, and the other slipped on, you were back on stage to sing the next song.

After about two hours and thirty minutes of this bullshit, you gave a final bow and blew kisses out at the crowd of strangers who were cheering your name. While the two hours he got to stand up to the side and watch you perform was easy, he only had to look for your signal if you needed help; getting you out of the arena safely was a whole different story. Everything moved so fast The second you stepped off that stage and towards your bodyguard.

After every show, the goal was the same: get changed as fast as possible, collect your stuff, which Nanako and Mimiko had already packed, and get in your limo before the crowd started heading towards your exit. Toji gently placed his hand on the small of your back, ushering you through the maze of halls that led you back to the dressing room, where, just like you knew, the girls had packed all your stuff.

“You got five minutes to change,” Suguru announced as Satoru snickered behind his husband. “Thanks to Satoru, you’re trending again for your newest song.”

Toji could see the minutey, perky personality shift into your more anxious state. You frowned, literally frowned, at the news. Most people would be jumping over the moon to hear it. Seeing such an ungrateful expression on your face had Toji resist the urge to roll his eyes into his skull.

Spoiled little brats, you rich folks were all the same.

“Did you make sure to tag the—“

“Are you insinuating that I don’t know who to tag or which hashtags to use? Babes, I've got you covered. When have I ever let you down?”

“Never.”

“Right, so let the best PR manager handle this.”

Toji sighed, glancing towards his watch. “Two minutes,” he announced to the room of people bouncing off the walls and collecting items to clean up the green room. How could your managers be talking about more brand deals at a time like this? Brand deals were bullshit, but knowing how popular you were with the teenagers and you probably had some make-up deal or some other shit that would make you all the richer, you had to make sure the right people were tagged so you continued to be sponsored. But there was a time and place for that, and now wasn't the right time!

“I know you're the best Satoru, but I still wanna make sure the word gets out there.” You stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in black leggings and a simple T-shirt. Completely different from the baby doll dresses you were wearing on stage. “It’s imperative—”

“I know. I’ve already posted it. Everyone’s been tagged accordingly, and the hashtags are in place. You’ll get lots of people to see this, trust me.”

You were slipping on your baseball cap and sunglasses when Toji’s large hand gently grabbed you by the shoulder. “We gotta get going,” you sighed before nodding, waving off your team, and falling Toji down the hall to where your car awaited you.

Thanks to your quick change, nobody was waiting for you outside, making your getaway from the arena smooth as butter. You just wished you felt as calm as your exit from the bustling stage had been. You were beginning to regret going back to your apartment. You hadn’t been back there since the roses were delivered to your door. Going back was going to be difficult, leaving your stomach swarming with anxiety. But at least you had a big mountain of a man to protect you if, god forbid, you needed help.

The entire ride back to your apartment complex was thankfully quiet. Toji sat on the other side of you, staring out the window, not making any conversation, which was a blessing. Not only was your throat sore from the amount of singing you had done, but the idea of sitting through a conversation run solely by small talk was almost as bad as your performance anxiety. Sitting in the back of the car, leaning your head against the window without worrying about smiling or acting perfect in front of strangers, was a breath of fresh air.

Being alone with your bodyguard made you feel like you could let your walls come down for the first time in a long time. It was a feeling you might as well get used to. He would be around most of the time, so instead of adorning the perfect, pretty mask you always wore, you could be the introverted true version of yourself. Knowing that you could relax, you shut your eyes, allowing yourself to doze off as the car smoothly headed down the freeway.

If only your dreams were smooth and calm like the car ride. Your dreams were filled with mysterious notes and roses you had once loved. They circled you, drowning you in paper and petals as a roaring crowd rang through your ears. You could fight against the tidal waves, but instead, you let them wash over you, allowing yourself to be crushed by the unbearable weight of being a star at times.

Nursing school wasn’t easy, but at least when you were in school, you didn’t have to worry about a mysterious bouquet showing up on your apartment doorstep or sneaking out to avoid getting seen and swarmed by your fans. Your biggest concern in school was getting good grades and doing everything possible to get your degree. The only things you had to worry about were study dates and pop quizzes, not ominous letters that made you fearful for your safety.

These nightmares were so vivid that you wished your family had heard you singing online. Was it too much to ask for a normal everyday life where you weren't constantly stressed?

You sighed, looking up at the lingering rays of light that slowly began to peek through. More envelopes and roses piled on the cocoon you were stuck in. Perhaps there was no going back. This might very well be the rest of your life. Just as you were shutting your eyes to the casket you were being buried in, a hand reached out from the top of the mountain of dread and anxiety you lived with, reaching for you.

You couldn’t make out who was reaching out to you, but you were sure they just wanted to help you. Without hesitation, you reached for that hand, brushing over their fingertips. Just when they clasped your hand to pull you out of the burial ground, you were jn. You gasped as someone shook you, waking you from the dream.

You sat up quickly, shaking as you met Tojo’s navy blue eyes. He was frowning, motioning towards the rolled-down window, and Ijichi, head of security for your building, leaned in, giving you a weak smile. With a quick rub to both your eyes, you placed your mask back on, going from the sleep-deprived woman you were transforming into the perky popstar everybody knew and loved.

“Ijichi! Hi!”

“Hi yourself, glad to have you back.”

Toji could see how your shoulders stiffened when you mentioned being back. “Oh, yep! It's good to be back.” Toji could see through your facade, while Ijichi was blind to it.

“I just wanted to let you know that we added more cameras to the building, and my security post will be far stricter with deliveries and anything else from this point on. We want you to feel safe here, and I’m sorry we failed to do that in the first place.”

“Oh no, it’s not your fault! Plus, I feel a lot better now that I have Fushiguro!” The man with glasses peered into the car, waving at your bodyguard whose face remained stoic, not returning the gesture. “Okay, uhm Ijichi, Toji; Toji Ijichi.”

No pleasantries were exchanged, not at all. The only thing Toji managed to do was give him a nod before focusing his attention back on the massive building and making a mental note to ask for access to the cameras. That way, he could keep an eye on you and ensure nobody was hanging around who wasn't supposed to be there. Those thoughts Toji was lost in made it a tranquil ride up the elevator to your apartment. He was leaving you feeling even more anxious. Usually, being around someone quiet never bothered you; you felt so relaxed around that person, but Toji’s cold demeanor and attitude toward your friend made you irritable.

“So, uhm, are you going to be that cold and standoffish every time you meet somebody I know?” You asked, finally allowing your heart mind to win over your mind.

“Huh?”

His dark gaze had you swallowing the lump suddenly in your throat. “I wanted to ask if this is going to be normal, you being—.”

“Oh, I am so sorry little star; I wasn't aware I needed to wear a fake ass mask around people too.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, and unfortunately, unlike you, I like wearing my face. I don’t have to be someone I’m not to get people to like me. Because quite frankly, I don’t give a damn if anybody likes me.”

“I don't eit—”

Toji scoffed, leaning against the elevator wall and shaking his head at your words. “Oh, please. You’re just like every other client I’ve had. All you care about is money, your appearance, and what sponsor deals you get.” His words made your blood begin to boil.

“You’ve barely known me for a couple of hours, and you think you know who I am?”

“Oooh yeah, you're some small-town girl that made it big. And instead of showing the world who you really are, you put on this fucking mask, one that hides the true you from the prying eyes of the world. You care only about ticket sales, making your fans happy, and sponsorships like the one you were talking about with your manager not even thirty minutes ago. So yeah, I’m sure I got a good idea of who you are. It’s my job to read people..”

This was the best security in the business; bodyguard your manager had set you up with? Ha! Yeah, right, this man was nothing more than a dickhead that had a lot of opinions that were far from true?!

You laughed, pushing yourself away from the wall to stand in front of the doors before him. “That's the great thing about wearing a mask around people I don’t fucking know. They get to see the real me, but I get to see people for who they truly are.” Toji opened his mouth to continue arguing with you, but only for you to quickly shut him down, holding a hand up before you. “You were right about a couple things; I do put on a mask, I love my fans, but I could give a damn about sponsorships.” Toji pushed himself off the wall, towering over you, gritting his teeth as he tried to control his evident anger.

“Oh, you suddenly don’t give a damn about sponsorships? I just heard you talking to your manager about one.”

“You don’t know anything about me! That whole conversation had nothing to do with this sponsorship!”

Tojo tilted his head back with a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. You don’t care about your amazing condo or all the money you’re making; you don’t care about those so-called nonexistent sponsorship deals.” The elevator rattled like the lid to the rage threatening to explode.

“Alright, yes, I do live in a nice apartment, one with security that sucks, but it’s still home. But for your information, I don’t do this for the money. You don’t know what I have planned on doing with my life, so I don’t want to hear you make assumptions about me! The conversation you so rudely eavesdropped on had nothing to do with a sponsorship deal but a massive donation I’m making to the local Children’s Hospital. The same hospital is well renowned for helping unfortunate children. So yeah, that whole conversation you listened to was me telling my manager to tag the hospital in my video because the hospital inspired the song! It was a public service announcement, a reminder to help those who can’t help themselves.”

Your rant was unexpected. Toji had never had one of his clients talk to him like that; strangely, he liked it.

“And another thi—”

The doors to the elevator slowly slid open with a ding as you reached your apartment. Usually, your automatic lights would be on in the living room and kitchen, leading upstairs. But as the doors opened, no lights illuminated your bodyguard's face. You knew something was wrong, and just before Toy could look over your shoulder into the apartment,Toji’s hand quickly covered your eyes. He pulled you into his chest, and he listened in as he smashed on the lobby button on the button panel.

“Toji!?” You asked, placing your hands on top of his. “What is it?! Is something wrong? Let me see!”

Toji shook his head as if you could see his reaction, his hand reaching for the gun at the holster on his side as the door slowly shut. There was no way in hell you were going to see what was behind the door. Because he knew if you were to see what had happened in your apartment, you would never be the same. As the elevator slowly began to descend, Toji realized that he had been wrong about your stalker. It wasn’t some harmless joke.

This was fucking serious.

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

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krosiefics · 4 months ago

Text

a taste of dispatch • danceracha x reader

M D N I 18+

WC: 3k

Summary: you are a Dispatch reporter, and while following some members of Stray Kids, you finds yourself in a situation, where the three members of DanceRacha wanna fuck you?

Tags: afab!reader, submissive!felix, dom!minho, switch!hyunjin, dispatch!reader, cnc(kinda), pure smut, pwp(?), piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), foursome, grinding, use of y/n, rough sex(?), overstimulation, cowgirl, doggy style, missionary,fingering…I feel like I’m forgetting some sorry

Today started off like any other day, another normal daily routine, get up, go to work, stay outside entertainment companies to snap photos of idols for the public. Sure people say your job is wrong and immoral, but you’ve gotta survive somehow. And that leads you to right now. Standing outside the JYPE building, no idols were scheduled to make a public appearance here today, but sometimes you like to come to the companies in case there is a sighting. The unannounced ones usually sell for more money.

It's cold and raining out today, it’s also near midnight. As you’re about to leave, three figures caught your eye as they walked out of the entrance of JYPE. Two of them had hoodies over their heads and another with a bucket hat, all three had masks on. Sure they could be employees of the place but one of them had purple hair poking out of his bucket hat. That made you suspicious of them.

You discreetly followed behind them, not too close but enough to make out their faces. Even through the masks you could tell it was the dance subunit of Stray Kids, DanceRacha.

They made their way down the streets of Seoul with two umbrellas in their hands as if they were any other person, bystanders too immersed in their own world to even bat an eye at them. They stroll down a popular club district street and look around before walking into a building with almost no light except the one outside. Heh, got you now. You think to yourself as you follow them in. You’re not dressed like how you’d think a paparazzi would, you have casual clothes that you dressed up slightly. You never want the idols you follow to realize they’re being followed by Dispatch. Sometimes you feel bad for the idols that you’re practically forced to follow. You want to give them their personal space, but making a living is hard and you’re not about to go sell feet pics online.

You open the door to the building and take only a few steps in before the door is slammed behind you and an audible click is made. Though it was dark, the faint light from outside shined through the small window by the door allowing some light inside. You whipped my head around to the door and there stood, in all his glory, the Hwang Hyunjin.

“See I knew someone was following us hyung.” He smirks down at you, a small huff escaping his lips. “What do you want from us, pretty lady?” You did not expect him to say that- especially the way he did…so sultry.

“What sorry,” You threw your hands up weakly in defense, “who are you?” “Don’t act coy with us doll, you’re one of those stalker sasaengs aren’t you?”

You pinch your brows with disgust, “First of all, how dare you think I’m a ‘sasaeng’, and second I don’t even know who you people are-“

“Then why were you following us all the way from the company building?” The freckled faced idol asked. “I had just gotten out of work and it started pouring as I was passing that tall building you three came out of, I was hoping to ask if you had an extra umbrella, I noticed you came inside and so I took the opportunity to ask.” You lie through my teeth, hoping your facade would fool them. You had to admit it was a stupid lie and wasn’t likely going to fool them, but you still had to try at least.

“Oh.” Hyunjin frowned, “I’m sorry, I just assumed-“

“She could be lying.” The cold faced man who hadn’t said a word spoke up. Minho eyed you up and down as you coward. “I’m not- I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.” You back up towards the door. “You’re not going anywhere, doll.” Hyunjin says as leans against the door sexily.

“You really don’t know us darling?” Felix speaks up, asking as if they were the most known people throughout Korea, which is true, they are one of the most known people in Korea. “No, I don’t really keep up with celebrities or influencers.” You fib. “So, what do you do for fun then, doll?” The taller of the three looks over you.

“Take a walk…go shopping? I don’t really get too much time off work.” Now that’s not a lie, you don’t really get to do “fun things”. You follow idols around even when you’re not scheduled to.

“Do you wanna have some fun?” Felix moves closer to you. “What?”

“With us.” He responds.

Wait what-

Suddenly a hand wraps around your hip, squeezing at the flesh there. You know it’s Hyunjin, he’s the only one who is behind you. The touch of his lips on the side of your neck makes your body tense. What the fuck is happening right now?!

You laugh awkwardly trying to get these boys off, suddenly Minho inched his way closer to you, he reached his hand out and took hold of your backpack strap, sliding it down ever so slowly all while maintaining eye contact with you, it gave you butterflies. “What are you-“ He cuts you off with a kiss on the corner of your lips, you struggle to wiggle your way out of their grasp but as Minho’s lips move further down your neck, it feels just too damn good to not want more.

“Hey I wanna taste.” Felix mumbles from behind. Felix takes Minho’s place, leaving wet kisses along your neck. Unbeknownst to you, Minho started searching your bag. “Hah, so you are a sasaeng.” He says holding your camera. Shit. “No, I’m not.” You protest sternly, the younger boys are indifferent to the fact that Minho just pulled out a professional camera. “Oh, Dispatch.” He pulls out your employee badge from the side pocket of the backpack. “Miss…Y/N.”

“So you do know us doll.” Hyunjin licked a stripe up your neck.

Shit shit shit, how do I get outta this situation?!

“Hyung.” Felix whines in your ear as he suddenly starts grinding against your hip. “H-Hey!” You stutter through your teeth while Hyunjin stops his verbal teases and lets his mouth wander up your neck towards your cheek. “Wh-What are you gonna do to me?” You cower as Minho steps in front of you, he leans forward so that his face is a few inches away from yours. “Whatever you want, want us to make you feel good? You could write an article on how good we fuck you.” You gulp at his words. You can feel his breath on your face as his eyes flicker down at your lips, you subconsciously lick them triggering a smirk from the older boy.

“Would you like that? Hyune’s mouth on your tits,” Minho hisses as he, hesitatingly, cups your breast through your shirt. He raises his eyebrows at you as if he were asking you if you were okay with what he was doing to your body. You notice his antics, You bite your lower lip, nodding at him to continue.

“Really? Hyune, I think she wants your mouth on her tits.” Hyunjin perked up at Minho’s sultry words. “Can I kiss you here doll?” Despite all of their actions so far, Hyunjin stills asks for consent to kiss you on the lips. You nod in response though he shakes his head, “Words darling.”

“Yes, please.”

What is happening right now? Why am I letting them do this, why do I want them to do this?!

The overwhelming lust that fills your mind begins to overload as Hyunjin locks his lips on yours. His lips were slightly chapped though you didn’t care, they felt so good against yours. His hands swat Minho’s away and roughly cups your breasts, you gasp at his action, he takes the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. You failed to notice Felix pulling away from your hip, not until you opened your eyes while Hyunjin slipped his hands under the hem of your t-shirt.

Felix sat on a sofa nearby palming his crotch through his pants. Minho was fiddling with something on the wall, he finally managed to find whatever he was looking for and a light appeared from a side table by the sofa. Though it was a small light, it illuminated the room, allowing you to see the boys who surrounded you in better lighting.

“Sofa?” Hyunjin hummed against your lips, you hummed against his lips in response, not wanting to pull away.

Hyunjin placed his hands on your hips and guided your bodies towards the couch. He lowered his body onto the sofa, you settling on top of him as his hands explored the sides of your torso. A pair of cold hands touched you on your lower back under your shirt, hesitantly pulling it up. You tilt your head to the man who is doing the action, Hyunjin continues kissing your cheek and neck messily. Felix frowns at you as if he was just caught doing a crime.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. You simply shake your head, lifting your shirt over your head, allowing the blonde freckled boy to gaze over your exposed chest. Though you’re still wearing a bra, you can tell he’s imagining you without it. Hyunjin pulled away from you when you took off your shirt, you glanced back over at him as he stared hungrily at your open skin.

“Hyung, how do you want us?” He asks Minho without ever looking away from you and your body.

Almost forgetting the eldest was in the room, you turned your head around towards the purple haired man. His eyes pierced into your own, as if he was waiting to attack. Minho purses his lips in thought as he nears the two of you again. “Well since I doubt Felix will last any longer, let him fuck her first, no?”

“Hey!” Felix exclaims as if he were offended, but secretly he was glad that he was offered to go first. Hyunjin simply shrugged in agreement, “Lix, how do you want her?”

“Shit,” The freckled boy breathed out as his hands went to your hips, “on top.” He said after a few moments. Hyunjin swiftly guided you off of his body and held you as Felix quickly undid his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down in one go before positioning himself next to Hyunjn.

Hyunjin’s thin hands caressed your sides as he helped you out of your sweatpants and guided your legs over Felix. The youngest boy stroked his cock as you settled yourself just under it, on his thighs. “Shit, can’t hold out much longer. Need to be in you darling.” Felix whined as he gathered your pantie lining and moved it to the side, allowing his cock to rub against your bare pussy.

“Oh God.” You moan out as you feel his warmth touch your skin. A pair of callused hands grab you by the waist hoisting you up slightly before aligning you to sink on to Felix’s cock. “Oh fuck!” You yelped the sudden intrusion causing your back to arch. Felix’s face scrunched up in pleasure as he filled your core with his warmth. Suddenly a pair of hands grip your hips, before even allowing you to adjust to the freckled boy’s size, lifting you slightly before guiding you to drop back down again. Another pair of hands made their way to your breasts, roughly massaging them as the other male forced you to bounce on Felix’s cock.

“W-Wait! Hyung!” Felix hands shoot up to your thigh, his fingers bruising them with how tightly he’s gripping them. “Shit, Imma cum.” Felix whines, his usual low pitched voice rising a few octaves at the stimulation. “It’s okay Lixie, you can cum. I wanna have my go soon.” Hyunjin said as he unclasped your bra, pulling it off your body and returning his hands to your now exposed breasts. The blonde’s hip starts desperately rutting up into your cunt. You support yourself by gripping onto Felix’s shoulder as the blonde thrusts into you and the oldest out the three boys gripped your hips, continuously pushing you down onto his younger friend’s cock.

Murmurs of curses flooded from Felix’s mouth, his usually tanned skin was now a shade of deep pink. His eyes shut and brows furrowed with pleasure. A few moments later of continuous assault to your lower region, the freckled boy finally spills inside of you. “Shit…my turn.” Hyunjin sighed before helping lift you from the painting boy underneath. “Look at her pretty tits, they’re so red from you grabbing them Hyune.” Minho smirked from behind you. He had detached his hands from your hips after Felix had cummed, you could still feel the pressure on your skin though.

“Hey doll?” You look to your left at the boy who was holding you up. You hum at him in question, “Can I bend you over?” Your cheeks flushed more than they already were, you simply nodded in response. Hyunjin shook his head disapprovingly, “I need you to say it please.” You hesitantly looked at his eyes before moving your body over the sofa, “Bend me over Hyun.”

Something snapped inside of Hyunjin, because next thing you know you already have his cock drilling inside you, the wet noises of your previous orgasm and Felix’s cum filled the room. “Shit, you look pretty like this, doll.” Hyunjin grunts as his hips falter slightly at his fast pace.

“You’re missing the way they’re bouncing though.” Minho hummed from your left, his eyes trailing over your chest.

Hyunjin’s thin hand moves to grope the flesh at your chest. His hips snapping into you as his free hand holds your waist. Your back aches from the position you hold over the sofa. Suddenly, a sharp pain spreads through your ass, a loud slap sound accompanying the pain. “Fuck doll, you’re ethereal.” Hyunjin sighed as his hips sloppily thrusted into your cunt. You knew he was close due to his sudden speed and uncoordinated ruts.

Soft groans slipped out of Hyunjin as he peaked at his climax, he poured himself into you. His arousal mixing with yours and Felix’s. Your arms gave out under you, you plopped onto the couch in a very uncomfortable position, though you could care less. Your body was too tired to care about comfortability. “So good.” Hyunjin breathed out to himself by your ear.

The tall boy slowly pulled out of your abused cunt. Flinching at the overstimulation, your eyes shut tightly. “Fuck kitten, you just had to take a break before my turn?” Minho’s voice was heard from behind. The purple haired man gently guided your body to turn over into a more comfortable position. Though it was weird to you that Minho was being so gentle as opposed to the way he was practically manhandling you prior.

“Here, just spread open for me, okay?” Minho cooed, bringing your legs apart leaving them to hang off the edge of the couch on each side of his hips. Allowing yourself to be used, your eye fluttered open from the sensation of another foreign force entering your leaking cunt. You whimpered as Minho slipped his cock inside you, though it was uncomfortable you didn’t want him to stop, you wanted more even though it started to hurt.

“Wait Min.” You weakly grabbed onto his biceps as he began thrusting into you. You whimpered as he talked you through it. “C’mon kitten, you can do it. Just let me use your tight little pussy for a little longer, yeah?” Minho’s breath ran down your neck, sweat beads falling, his hair sticking to his forehead. Your hands make their way to Minho’s back, scratching at the skin whenever he’d push too deep.

Your eyes filtered across the room landing on the two other boys who just stared at you with awe.

You weren’t self conscious this whole time, but now having made eye contact with the other two, that unusual feeling began to set in. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what you might look like right now. You grew embarrassed by the thoughts of what the others could be thinking.

Felix and Hyunjin watched as Minho’s hips thrusted into yours so sensually, as your legs hesitantly wrapped around his waist- pulling Minho closer, they watched as you cried moans while maintaining eye contact with them. Just you laying there all open for Minho, the way he used you, it made them want to cum again.

A few moments later Minho finally reached his climax, his orgasm spilling over inside of you. You felt so warm inside, the feeling of the three’s cum filling you made you tingly. After cleaning up the mess they had made on the sofa and on you, they help you get redressed before redressing themselves. None of them thought it would get this far and you’d actually do the deed with them, they didn’t know what to do next…or better yet how to leave without seeming like a heartless asshole.

“You okay?” Minho asked as he handed you your work backpack, you nod at him with a tired smile. “I didn’t go too far?” His demeanor shifted, hoping that he really didn’t overstep any unspoken boundaries. “No, you’re fine. It honestly helped me relax from the stress of work…though my back does hurt like a bitch.” You chuckle, massaging your lower back.

“Here’s some water, pretty.” Felix smiled, handing over a glass of water. You take a small sip before your attention is turned to your phone. It’s ringing. You reach over for the phone and notice it’s your boss calling. Shit. You pick up the phone only for your boss to yell at you for not submitting photos that were due earlier that day, on time. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” You sigh after hanging up, grabbing all your things making sure you look ‘okay’.

“C’mere.” Minho motions for you to follow him out the front door, “We’ll make it seem like you happened to run into us.”

Hyunjin and Felix ran out after him. The rain had quieted down a bit to a small drizzle. “Stay there and just get a good shot.” Hyunjin winked.

You pull out your camera before snapping a quick photo when the three of them were distracted.

Maybe your job wasn’t so bad after all.

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