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────────── JEON JAEKYUNG (전재경) better known mononymously as JAEKYUNG is a fictional singer-songwriter , dancer , rapper , model and actor under bighit music. he is the youngest member of global k-pop sensation BTS which debuted on JUNE 13th, 2O13 with their single album 2 COOL 4 SKOOL.

masterlist. latest post. rambles. taglist. requests.

( image credits to @y-ves )

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content. voyeurism, exhibitionism, public surveillance themes, dubcon undertones, masturbation mention, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, filming/recording during sex, dom!reader, sub!Jisung, light power play, light humiliation, intense sexual tension.

⍣ ೋ notes: okay so i know u requested a drabble but it got a bit out of hand i'm sorry (not rlly). <3 also jisung is a wee bit of a creep here so if you don't like that, i suggest you don't read this one lol.

🧾 FORMAL INVESTIGATION REPORT

Filed by: Minho Lee Subject: Officer Voyeur Staff Member Under Review: Jisung Han Guest Involved: Guest at 704

“You ever think about what you’d be doing if you didn’t work here?”

Minho doesn’t even look up from the tray he’s balancing—some late-night room service no one claimed—but Jisung’s voice cuts through the silence like a mosquito in a dark room: annoying, high energy, impossible to ignore.

“I mean,” Jisung continues, spinning slightly in his chair, hoodie sleeves covering his hands up to the knuckles, “you? Probably some depressed barista who’d stab someone with a milk frother. Me? I’d probably be like… I dunno. A cam boy. But like a classy one. Real artsy lighting. Minimalist sets. Sad music.”

Minho finally glances up, deadpan. “You are a cam boy. Just without the lighting. Or consent.”

Jisung grins, unbothered. “Wow. That was almost a compliment. You think I’ve got the face for it?”

“I think you’ve got the delusion for it.”

He spins again in the chair, slow this time, letting the monitor light smear across his face. Black bangs hang in his eyes. Black painted nails—chipped and matte—tap against the armrest. “You ever think about what it’s like, though?” he muses, voice lower now, a little dreamy. “Being the one getting watched. Instead of always doing the watching.”

Minho snorts. “Jesus. How many nights have you been down here?”

“Too many.” He stretches, hoodie riding up a little at the waist. “Not enough.”

Minho slides the tray onto the desk, finally giving Jisung a look that says he’s both concerned and tired of his bullshit.

“Okay, Edgar Allan Perv. You seriously need to touch grass.”

Jisung laughs—sharp and wheezy, sleeves bunching as he curls up into the spin of his chair again.

“Grass doesn’t touch me back,” he pouts.

“Neither do women,” Minho mutters.

“I have women,” Jisung says, clutching his chest like he’s been stabbed, “just... from a respectful, tasteful distance. Through very discreetly placed cameras.”

Minho levels him with a look. “You know if Aeryn hears you say that out loud again, she’ll staple your dick to the control board, right?”

“Oh, Aeryn loves me,” Jisung says with faux innocence. “She keeps me around because I’m a visionary.”

“She keeps you around because no one else knows how to rewire this rat nest of a surveillance system without setting off the fire alarms.”

“Exactly.” He points at him. “Indispensable.”

Minho rolls his eyes and starts unpacking the tray, metal clinking as he peels back a corner of foil. “Indispensable, yet somehow the most likely to get the hotel sued for public indecency.”

“I prefer the term ‘unconventional asset,’” Jisung says, tapping a blunt black nail against his temple. “I bring innovation. Intrigue. Erotic suspense.”

Minho stares. “You bring violations,” he says. “I saw your 'private archive.' The one you named ‘private archive’ like a dumbass. Half those camera angles aren’t even legal in this country.”

“They’re experimental,” Jisung argues, slouched deep in his chair, hoodie swallowing him whole. “Like, avant-garde. Think of it as hotel noir. A study in loneliness. A peek into the human condition.”

“You mean tits.”

“Tits are the human condition.”

Minho groans, grabs a breadstick off the tray, and throws it at his head.

Jisung yelps, catching it midair. “Assault!”

“You’ll live.”

“I’ll press charges. I know how to access your payroll.”

“You are the payroll,” Minho says, flat. “And speaking of people who want to kill you—”

Jisung immediately straightens.

“No. Who?”

Minho looks like he’s been waiting for this moment. He leans forward, rests his elbows on the tray like it’s a podium, and locks eyes with Jisung.

“Concierge Aeryn.”

Jisung blinks. “...No.”

Minho nods, face pure grim satisfaction. “Yup.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Jisung recoils, hoodie cinching tighter around his face like a defense mechanism. “What’d I do? Wait—no. What’d she think I did?”

“Oh, she knows what you did. Everyone knows what you did. Suite 704. Hidden camera. Woman caught it. And instead of flipping out, she left you a little love note.” Minho makes air quotes with the hand not holding a breadstick. “And now Aeryn wants you to go clean up your mess before it turns into an HR nightmare.”

Jisung pales under the flicker of the monitor lights.

"Changbin?"

"Mhm. Or worse. The cops."

“The police?”

Minho shrugs. “I mean, best-case scenario, she’s into it and doesn’t report you. Worst-case?” He trails off.

Jisung’s spinning chair comes to an abrupt halt. He stares at Minho, stricken. “You’re telling me I have to talk to her? Like in person?”

Minho slaps a foil-wrapped pat of butter onto the tray. “Yup. Aeryn said, quote: ‘Tell that creepy little fuck to do whatever needs to be done.’”

“Define whatever.”

Minho raises a brow. “You know exactly what it means.”

Jisung sits frozen for a second, then groans—loud and guttural—and drapes himself backwards over the chair like he’s just died. “Hyung, I don’t do guests. I’m a background character. I thrive in the shadows.”

“Then consider this your main character arc. You’re going upstairs. You’re knocking on her door. You’re making sure she doesn’t sue this hotel for emotional trauma or sell your name to Buzzfeed Unsolved.”

Jisung is already scrambling to sit up again, bangs in his eyes, black painted nails tapping against his phone screen as he checks the suite number one more time like it might have magically changed.

“Seven-oh-four. Fuck me. She’s still in the room.”

“And probably waiting.”

Jisung’s hoodie sleeve rides up just enough to show a little ink on his forearm—some half-faded lyric he probably regrets—and he tugs it back down, muttering like a man preparing for war.

“This is bad. This is so bad. I’m not made for human interaction. I don’t even blink right. I’m gonna knock and she’s gonna pepper spray me.”

Minho tosses him a room key with a flourish. “Then make it count.”

______________________________________________________________

Suite 704.

Jisung stands outside the door, hoodie up, sleeves down, heart racing like he just ran a five-minute mile in a panic attack.

He stares at the door. The peephole feels like an eye. Like she’s already watching him—knows he’s there.

He raises his hand.

Lowers it.

Raises it again.

Knocks.

Silence.

Then: a soft voice. “It’s open.”

His spine straightens. A jolt hits low in his gut.

He fidgets with his sleeves just to stall, then pushes the door open.

Dim lighting. The faint smell of wine. You’re in the robe again—one leg folded under you, the other stretched out along the couch. Hair loose. Lip gloss smudged.

And you’re looking right at him.

Like you expected this.

Like you invited it.

Jisung lingers awkwardly in the doorway. “Hi. Uh. Sorry to bother you. I’m from security. Han Jisung. Not the scary kind—well, I mean, maybe a little scary if you saw me in a dark alley but like, not murder scary, more like, spooky little raccoon scary—”

“Shut the door,” you say, slow. Measured.

He shuts the door.

You tilt your head, eyes flicking down to his hoodie, his hands, his chipped nails clenched into sleeves. “So you’re the one who’s been watching me.”

Jisung’s brain bluescreens. “Okay, no, but also yes—but also maybe no again if you press charges—”

You pat the space next to you.

“Come here.”

He doesn’t move.

You smile.

Jisung exhales, then shuffles toward you, sits on the very edge of the cushion, spine stiff, hands between his knees like a middle schooler at a parent-teacher conference. He’s hard already. Jesus, just looking at you up close like this has the memory of last night resurfacing; you in that little dress, slipping it off–

You lean closer, voice honey-thick. “You don’t usually come upstairs, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“I figured.”

You trail a single finger up his thigh.

He makes a sound—half gasp, half squeak—and looks like he’s about to pass out.

“You don’t usually come upstairs,” you murmur, watching him squirm. “But when you do… you turn off the cameras first?”

Jisung’s eyes snap to yours. Wide. Busted.

You smile, wicked. “You didn’t think I’d notice?”

“I—uh—security protocol,” he blurts. “Can’t record myself doing, like, illegal mea culpa visits. Liability and all. It’s—it’s for your protection. My protection. Our protection—”

“You’re cute when you panic,” you interrupt, tilting your head. “But it’s a shame, don’t you think?”

He blinks. “What is?”

“That no one gets to watch this.”

His mouth opens. Then closes. He’s short-circuiting, visibly.

You lean back a little, robe slipping further down your shoulder. “I mean, I assume you know how to turn it back on.”

Jisung swallows hard. “...I do.”

“Then do it.”

He hesitates, just for a second, clearly running mental simulations of how badly this could end. But your gaze is steady, coaxing, amused. Like you want him to. Like this whole thing is your idea, not just his fucked-up fantasy.

He fumbles for his phone—shaky hands, hoodie sleeves falling back just enough to expose the faded lyric tattoo on his forearm again—and taps open an app buried between half a dozen folders.

You watch, fascinated. “So that’s how you do it? Everything through there?”

“Yeah. I, uh… I built it,” he mumbles, eyes locked on the screen as he taps through camera feeds. “Modified the firmware. Added remote access. Wired in some motion triggers. It’s—kind of janky, honestly. But like, in a good way.”

“Smart,” you murmur. “You really are a little genius.”

His cheeks flush. He doesn’t know what to do with praise—real praise, not Minho’s backhanded insults or Aeryn’s thinly veiled threats. And definitely not like this. From someone half-curled into the couch, glossy-lipped and looking at him like he’s something fascinating. Dangerous.

Valuable.

“Can it record?” you ask.

He licks his lips. “Y-Yeah. But I don’t—”

“Turn it on.”

Jisung short circuits. The red light flickers back on.

You lean closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Show me what it’s like,” you whisper. “Being the one getting watched.”

Jisung’s head tips back against the couch, hoodie slipping down, pupils blown wide. “Holy shit.”

Your fingers brush his jaw. “C’mon, Officer Voyeur. Don’t get shy now.”

He doesn’t get shy. He malfunctions.

Because you’re straddling his lap before he can even blink, thighs warm through the paper-thin barrier of his joggers, robe slipping open just enough to make his brain leak out his ears. One second you’re teasing, breath against his neck, and the next you’re grinding slow, deliberate, like you know exactly what it does to him. Like you’ve memorized him.

He makes a sound. Choked. Half whine, half breathless moan. His hands flutter uselessly at your hips, hoodie sleeves bunched at his wrists, unsure if he’s even allowed to touch you.

You roll your hips again. Harder.

“F–fuck,” he gasps, bucking up just a little. “Wait—wait, I’m not—this isn’t—I’m not ready—”

“You’re already hard,” you purr, rocking against him. “Feels like you’re more than ready.”

He whimpers, hands finally gripping your waist like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet. His head tips back against the couch again, hoodie bunched at his throat, black bangs stuck to his forehead. Sweat beading already and you’ve barely touched him.

The red light blinks from the ceiling.

“You ever jerk off,” you murmur, sliding your hands up under his hoodie, fingers grazing bare skin, “thinking about someone finding the footage?”

His eyes snap open. He looks at you like you just kicked the air out of his lungs.

“I—n-no,” he stammers, flushing. “Maybe. Once. Shut up.”

You smile like a knife.

“Bet you’d look so pretty,” you whisper, leaning down until your lips brush his jaw. “Sprawled out in the security booth. Pants down, eyes on the screen. Mouth open. Begging.”

He moans. Real, raw, filthy.

“Jesus fuck, you can’t—” he gasps, hips jerking under you, cock straining against the thin cotton of his sweats. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You slide one hand between your bodies, palm flat against the heat of him. He jerks, bucks into your touch with a strangled noise, hands flying to your hips to hold you down as if that might stop him from unraveling.

It doesn’t.

“You wanna fuck me, Officer?” you whisper. “Or do you want me to keep putting on a show?”

He nods frantically. Then shakes his head. Then nods again. “I—both.”

You laugh, soft and wicked.

Then you lift just enough to tug his waistband down, cock springing free, flushed and leaking and so achingly hard he whines the second the air hits it. You sit back down slow, robe open now, pussy bare and already slick.

And Jisung’s brain just stops.

You’re wet—already wet—like you’d been waiting for this. Like you’d been thinking about it, touching yourself, fucking preparing before he even got here. His mouth parts, chest rising like he’s breathing too fast, too shallow, hoodie still clinging to him like a second skin. He can’t not picture it now—your fingers slipping between your thighs, sinking in, slow and lazy, while you watched the door and imagined him standing there like this. Squirming. Sweating. Begging.

“Fuck,” he chokes, voice cracked and desperate. “Did you—shit—did you touch yourself for me?”

You don’t answer. Just shift your hips, tilt your pelvis forward—showing him the mess between your legs, the glisten that coats your folds, the way you glide your fingers along your inner thigh like you already know what it’s doing to him.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, hips twitching, fingers flexing like he doesn’t know whether to grip the couch or your waist or his own goddamn hair. His cock jerks where it rests, leaking against his hoodie hem, angry and untouched. “You did, didn’t you? Fuck, you got yourself wet for me, you—fuck.”

His pupils are pure black now, lips wet, jaw slack—completely undone. Like the moment that image lodged itself in his head, he ceased to exist as a functional human being.

You reach for him—slow and sultry—and he swears he could come untouched if you so much as look at him like that again

You sink down.

“Oh—fuck,” Jisung gasps, whole body seizing, fingers digging into your hips so tight it’s almost painful. His head snaps back again, jaw slack, breath stuttering out of him in a broken rush. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy fucking shit—”

You take your time—rocking slow, grinding deep, letting him feel every inch of you. He’s so sensitive, so overwhelmed, twitching and gasping under you with every movement. One of his hands slips under your robe, palm splayed across your lower back like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

The red light blinks.

You press your mouth to his ear.

“Smile for the camera.”

He whimpers.

You ride him slow and filthy, watching his expression crumble under every grind of your hips. His voice is wrecked—soft, shaky gasps, breathless little moans, whining your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

“Feels—feels so good—holy shit, I’m not gonna—fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

“Then don’t,” you whisper, rolling your hips just right, “C’mon, baby. Let ‘em see what a mess you are.”

He spills with a choked-off sob, hips jerking, whole body trembling as you ride him through it, eyes glassy, jaw slack, thighs shaking under yours. He clutches you like he’s drowning, face buried in your shoulder, moaning your name into your skin.

The red light blinks.

Still recording.

You stroke his hair gently, smiling as he gasps against you.

“Officer Voyeur,” you murmur. “You gonna watch this later?”

Jisung can’t even answer.

______________________________________________________________

INT. SKZOTEL – CONFESSIONAL ROOM (A.K.A. MINHO’S JANITOR CLOSET)

[Camera clicks on.] Minho sits on an overturned mop bucket, legs crossed, eyes heavy-lidded. The room smells like lemon cleaner and apathy. There’s a security monitor propped on a rolling cart beside him, flickering softly with very NSFW footage.

He lifts a paper cup to his lips. Sips. Winces.

MINHO (flat):"Didn’t think I’d spend my Friday night watching our head of security get reverse-cowgirled into the next life, but..." shrugs "...here we are."

He sets the cup down. Rubs his temple like this is the third migraine today.

MINHO (cont’d):"Honestly? I’ve seen less raw emotion in Oscar-winning films. Man was crying. Mid-fuck."

A long pause. He turns to the camera.

MINHO (deadpan): "Camera three caught his soul leaving his body."

He clicks a remote. Screen behind him pauses on Jisung’s face: eyes rolled back, mouth open, pure chaos.

Minho gestures vaguely at it.

MINHO (cont’d): “Ten bucks says he’s gonna ask me to make a highlight reel.”

Another pause. He sips his coffee again. Nods.

MINHO (quietly): "...I'm gonna do it."

[END OF RECORDING]

series taglist: @nightmarenyxx @miyaluvvsyou @jisuperboard @fackeraccount @silly250 @lov3rachan @lze325 @angel-writes-here @jesuisstay @lov3rachan @lze325 @scribblesnsketches05 @jesuisstay @slut4junho @wickedbutlovely @woozarts @pixie-felix

[08luvmailz]

★ ﾟ๑ BABYSITTING MISHAPS ୧ ⊹ ࣪ ❪ Sep, 10 2018 ❫

❪ 𝖶𝖧𝒾𝖲𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲 ❫ babysiting oscar isaac's child with pedro pascal, leads to a couple of mishaps ─⠀ fluff ꒰ 🧾 ꒱ when life give you tangerines , 9th member of girls generation ⸝⸝ ◜◡◝ i just imagine pedro being the fun uncle + based on a tiktok i forgot to like it but if you found it , its based by that

The house had settled into that sweet, heavy quiet, the kind that only comes after a storm of baby giggles, tiny tantrums, and runaway sippy cups. Oscar asked the two to take care of their sweet baby boy ─Eugene, as he and his wife, Elvira would take a four day escape in Maldives.

It wasn’t that the two of them didn’t love Eugene—they did—but they had to admit, there was a bittersweet sting to the thought of spending four days in the same house as a one-year-old and they wanted to go to Maldives with the couple. And that sting was layered with the knowledge that they wouldn’t be able to escape the diapers, the flying food, the midnight feedings, and the inevitable burping messes.

Pedro’s eyes softened, and he exchanged a knowing glance with Amari. “It’s like sending a piece of our hearts away,” he murmured. Oscar, seeing their hesitation, just chuckled and ruffled Pedro’s hair. “You guys got this. He’s a good boy, promise.”

Pedro shot him a dramatic, pleading look, his eyes wide like a puppy who’d been left out in the rain. “I know he’s a good boy... but the kid is like a tiny human tornado. He gets it from you,” Pedro grumbled, his voice half-joking, half-serious.

Amari laughed softly, shaking her head, but she knew they were in for a wild ride. “We’ll survive,” she assured Oscar, her smile gentle. “You deserve it." She smiled as she glanced at Elvira's knowing look of guidance and nervousness, "Just—please don’t forget to text us every hour or something. I might need a sanity check.” Amari laughed at her and hugged her to soothe her with ease.

In that moment, the gravity of the task mingled with humor, creating an atmosphere of shared responsibility and gentle teasing. As the couple instructed many things like, don't forget to place the toys after they were played or take the trash everyday. Pedro wrapped an arm around Amari’s shoulder as they watched Oscar and Elvira disappear down the hallway, their departure marked by the soft clack of shoes against the wooden floor.

The pair settled into the new rhythm with a promise to keep Eugene safe and loved—a soft, playful pact. And even as they braced themselves for the challenges ahead, they couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected gift of time: time to explore each other’s company in the peaceful silence of a house that, even for a few days, belonged entirely to them.

And with that, the two were off, leaving Pedro and Amari standing in the doorway with Eugene, now tugging at Pedro’s shirt as if trying to drag him toward the living room. “Alright, little man,” Pedro said, settling Eugene on his hip. “Guess it’s just you and me now.” Amari glanced at Pedro, her lips curving into a playful smile. “I’m starting to think I was the third wheel in all this, huh? You two look pretty cozy already.” Pedro laughed as he rocked eugene, him and his quirky dances.

“Great,” Amari sighed, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess the real babysitting has begun.” Oh how wrong she was with those four days of suffering (joy).

The house had settled into that sweet, heavy quiet, the kind that only comes after a storm of baby giggles, tiny tantrums, and runaway sippy cups. Pedro was sprawled across the couch, one arm thrown lazily over the backrest. Amari curled beside him, a soft blanket tangled around her legs, her head tucked neatly into the space just under his collarbone like a bird finally at rest.

The baby—finally full after a heroic battle involving mashed bananas and half a tub of yogurt—was waddling sleepily across the carpet, tiny fists rubbing his eyes.

Pedro chuckled under his breath, brushing a hand gently through Amari's hair. "You’re dangerous, you know that?" he murmured, voice low and syrupy, vibrating against her ear. "Feeding him, singing to him... I think you just stole his heart." She smiled as her fingers lazily draw circles, playing with the hem of his shirt, "Takes one to know one, oppa," she whispered, teasing.

Pedro tipped his head back against the couch, a soft, rumbling laugh spilling from his throat. His other hand reached for the baby, guiding him into his lap effortlessly. The little one collapsed against him like a drunk sailor, safe in the fortress of Pedro’s arms.

For a moment, Amari just watched—heart aching sweetly at the sight. Pedro, his dark curls messy, his smile softened into something golden and unguarded. The baby breathing deep against his chest. A slice of forever tucked into an ordinary night. But then—a low, subtle ache bloomed in her stomach, quiet but persistent. Hunger, threading itself through her senses. She hadn't eaten since early afternoon, too swept up in bottles, bath times, and tiny socks scattered across the floor.

The thought of food made her almost giddy with longing, but she swallowed it down with a small, guilty breath. She didn’t want to disturb the softness of the moment, the gentle miracle of it, Pedro warm beside her and Eugene breathing in even, delicate puffs.

Instead, she leaned into him for one last second, memorizing the way his chest rose and fell, the faint scent of him — baby milk, baby soap and something uniquely Pedro.

Pedro hummed low in his throat, not quite awake but feeling the loss of her warmth as she untangled herself slowly, like pulling free from a dream. She smiled faintly, standing up and padding quietly down the hallway.

Her footsteps were soft as secrets on the hardwood floor, the ache of hunger growing, but she said nothing. As she glanced at pedro still rocking little eugene to sleep she went to the counter where she placed — lotte cheetos as she grabbed it b her fingers slowly, lifting it and tucking in her waist. It was easier to slip away quietly, to pretend that everything she needed was as simple as stepping into another room.

꒰ ྀི ᥩ few minutes later

Finally, peace. Finally, her long-awaited Cheetos.

She placed her phone carefully against the white cabinets of the small pantry, the smell of leftover food and sweet spices lifting into the air, cradling her in a quiet kind of joy. Her figure, still wrapped in the cozy nighttime air, was bathed in the low kitchen light, all soft edges and sleepy laughter.

She hit record without thinking, planning to send the video later to Elvira—just a secret between girls.

With a sigh almost reverent, she opened the bag of junk food. Her hand, pinkie raised like a quiet crown, raced upward. The crinkling of the plastic was thunderous in the small space. The scent hit her first—cheese dust and pure happiness.

She popped the first Cheeto into her mouth, biting down with a dramatic crunch that echoed off the pantry walls. Bliss, pure bliss as she closed her eyes and leaned near the wall, but just as she was reaching for a second piece—

The door creaked.

The door just creaked.

Her eyes widened, as she was in mid bite glancing at her side was Pedro—hair a mess, socks dragging on the tile floor, looking like he had just survived a war. His eyes locked onto the bag in her hand, wild and wounded. Not that he is helping in his hand was a pair of a large pizza slice he stole from the counter.

A heartbeat passed. Then two.

And without a word, the two laughed uncontrollably, bumping into each other with such clumsy force that it sent them spiraling into another fit of breathless giggles, their shoulders colliding, hands scrambling for balance. Trying—desperately trying—to muffle the sounds, both of them pressed their palms against their mouths, bodies folding in half from the effort.

"You’re unbelievable," Pedro wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes—but his hand was already buried deep in the bag, fishing out another Cheeto with that same desperate, childlike glee. Amari elbowed him gently, breath hitching, laughter bursting in soft little puffs through her fingers as she fought for air. She clutched her side, trying not to collapse entirely.

"Close the door, close the door," she whispered, sharp and giggling, jabbing him with her knee as he just stood there uselessly, grinning like an idiot.

Pedro, still half-wheezing with laughter, flailed backwards and slammed the pantry door shut with his foot. But as his foot slammed accidently.... created a loud thud, waking the child.

unfortunately, it didn't save the peace.

Both of them froze, eyes wide, mouth agape.

A tiny wail echoed outside as amari hit his shoulder with her palm, "You woke him up, go there" as amari whispered at pedro, smacking Pedro's chest with the back of her hand. Pushing him slightly at the door, as Pedro just looked at her, half-terrified but with an adoring grin on his face. “Babe, you slammed the door,” he hissed, voice cracking.

"I did not, give me the pizza. You gonna walk in there and soothe him" She said as she lunged at the pizza. Pedro snatched the slice higher over his head like a playground bully, grinning wickedly.

"You're taller, go," she hissed, jumping for it, her fingertips just grazing his torso. "You’re lighter, you're faster, go," he countered in a whisper-shout, side-stepping like they were in a clumsy waltz inside the cramped pantry.

Another wail. Louder now.

"Pedro!" Amari gasped, scrambling to catch the tumbling cereal box while trying not to slip on a rogue Cheeto. He looked at her in dismay, as he breathe and bracing himself like a soldier.

"Fine! Fine!" Pedro gasped, surrendering the slice into her hands dramatically, like a knight handing over his sword. "But if he asks for me, tell him I love him." Pedro gaze lovingly at the pizza as she pushed his face with her palm, "Just go!" She murmured at him while giggling.

As Pedro closed the door with a pained look, mouthing exaggerated curses to the heavens, Amari caught the soft click of it latching and turned, breathless.

Her phone was still recording.

The screen caught her in perfect imperfection — hair a little mussed, cheeks flushed from laughter, cradling the stolen slice like a war prize. She grinned, triumphant, the kind of grin that creased her eyes and made her look half her age.

Without missing a beat, she lifted the half-eaten pizza to her mouth and took a huge, unbothered bite, cheeks puffing as she munched happily.

After a while, she sent it to the couple who is still in maldives and a couple of pictures of their sweet baby boy eugene.

She didn't know that after this, Elvira just tag her on her instagram story and she and pedro would never live the day after this.

[idekkkjja]

idol sugar mommy aeri with reader !!! (inspired by her recent ig post !!)

BLING BLING ˚₊‧꒰ა $ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ G!p Giselle x fem! reader

-`💳´- Being an idol who’s extremely successful with money loading in bank accounts was worth the pain and sacrifices in the past; the non-stop preparations for the public’s eye and endless concerts had the satisfying flickering of the green papers brushing against each other in stacks all worth it.

Oh, and the look of your adorable eyes shining in happiness is worth it too.

Heads-up: English’s not my first language so soz, sugar mommy Giselle, public(?) sex if fucking in a changing room is in that criteria, a bit rushed smut IM SORRY THIS MY SECOND EVER G!P.. and rushed ending, oh she has a mommy kink too. She’s a bit of a loser too. You both are and that’s okay x. Fluff too, Giselle’s so down bad.

🧾⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ It all started with you using K-pop as an internal escape from the stress of your two bare-minimum jobs, and it barely paid off all your needs including college.

Specifically, one girl group called Aespa. Their new hit ‘Girls’. Captivated by this mixed Japanese-Korean member, named Giselle, your little obsession occurred when startled by her viral red hair fan cam dancing to the song.

Oblivious to the extreme backlash received by haters and annoying K-netizens, your whole phone was filled to the brim to the point of Giselle.

Giselle wallpaper, Giselle home screen, Giselle profile picture, Giselle desktop screen, and you name it. Anything that came along with the beautiful woman that is free merch, you snatch it. Not that you were a solo stan, the opposite actually, you despised those species.

You loved all the members, maybe your bias was one percent higher although that was not the point. Rather, whenever you caught your subconscious having favoritism towards her from the others in videos and such, you made sure to pour all that your heart had to the rest.

Luckily—this fan-girl phase (or not)— has motivated you to save up the spare money you barely had after using it on rent, monthly tuition fees, food… oh, and taxes. This would take a while, wouldn’t it?

And your thoughts manifested to life, because it did. Taking long, exhausting months to more months, (including the cruel coarse work piled up on your aching shoulders) leads to a new comeback from their long break called ‘Spicy’.

Were you desperate to buy the newest album? Of course, one hundred and one percent. You would sell your infuriating younger sister to buy this gem.

Knowing this severely anticipated moment quote on quote, your trembling hands had money enough to buy the plastic-covered album at the front of the music store, the unbothered cashier carefully placed the single item in the plastic bag provided and handed it to you without a single peek; already yelling out the another squealing customer behind you.

Dashing straight home to your pity, cramped flat, you screamed in pure joy and jumped around in celebration. This was the reason why you grinded so hard!

Opposite to the influencers online who carefully and precisely nit-picked their packages open, you ripped it apart like a starving banshee, exploring the first-ever album and caressing it lovely.

Now, the photocards time! Praying internally to win one single photocard of Giselle, since it was enough for you to last a lifetime… you inhaled sharply, and your nerves jumbled for a moment that would last a minute maximum.

Embracing the darkness, you counted three to one snapped your eyes open to Karina, and screeched your lungs out in delight nonetheless! And found out you had all the ot4 member photocards individually, just an extra Karina one, and that made you die of happiness.

Rummaging throughout the whole album, exploring every single inch and leaving them not untouched: you made sure that the money that brought you into sweat would not go into the drain.

And it didn’t.

Gasping in horror, your heart paused for one single beating moment processing what’s displayed in front of you.

A fan call… with Giselle. Your parasocial wife.

Tomorrow at 13:00 sharp.

This whole day from morning to early evening went by too well, you narrowed your eyes in suspicion and the official logo confirmed it was true.

Stunned, you sat there for about five minutes still and blankly stared at the wall. Not knowing what to do.

You can’t write a script, you wanted this whole ordeal to go as smoothly as possible not wanting for you to mess up or your outrageous phone and wifi to ruin meeting the love of your sob-story life!

Time skip to tomorrow, you didn’t have one wink of sleep last night, pondering about the haunting fan call and what you would do and say.

Did you want to be part of those ‘cringy K-pop fan call complications’? Never, over your dead body.

12:56, you got ready to look well resembled and fit for this situation and made sure to be in the best corner of your home to get the best quality despite you knowing greatly that it wouldn’t benefit the terrible camera quality.

Each minute, your keen and expectant gaze stared without blinking at the screen hoping the notification would buzz on your phone anytime soon.

Please. Please.

And it happened.

Buzzing in the background was heard, and your breath was stuck in your constricted throat, witnessing the most gorgeous woman you've ever seen in real-time. That she is actually real.

"Hello!" Giselle formally greets, being polite as she could and looking at the phone expectantly for a response. You were very pretty, she could tell even with the trashy quality.

Nothing came, you were stunned, eyes popping out of your eye sockets as you just subconsciously had a staring contest with her. The idol was... confused, yet interested and she tilted her head, trying to catch your attention.

Were you perhaps lagging?

"Hello?" Again, she repeated herself and cleared her throat.

"H-hi, h-hello," you babbled out, being the epitome of a broken record itself. Visibly amused, Giselle leaned back in her seat and laughed softly.

She's never seen you before, not at fan meetings, concerts, or fan calls with any other members. A new fan, she saw countless of the same individuals in these events, but it isn't hard to admit that seeing a new face is refreshing.

Since it is the last call of today, it doesn't hurt for it to last a little longer than necessary, right? You were entertaining after all, despite not speaking too much yet.

"U-uh, this is my first ever fan call..." you admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck like a loser, a cute loser to Giselle.

The latter leaned closer, noting how easy it would be to tease you playfully. "Ah, really? I couldn't tell." Sarcastically, she remarked, holding her breath not to burst into laughter at your reddening face.

"Ask me anything, baby, I can be here all day if you'd like." Unintentionally, her flirty demeanor confidently stood out; it was all because you were so shy... and adorable, how could she not resist?

"I-I... well, it's been a while since your world tour ended, and you guys, I assume, stopped your deserved break?" Taking a deep breath to carry on your nervous rambling, you shyly peeked at the screen again, seeing Giselle so keenly listening to you, which just made you more flustered than ever and snapped your gaze back to your fidgeting fingers.

"I wanna ask when are you guys going to resume your concerts?" You finished your sentence, glancing up again at the camera, finally having a spine and meeting her eyes. Though obviously it didn't last longer than a maximum of three seconds.

Her perfectly done eyebrows furrowed together in a moment, deeply thinking about an appropriate answer to say without spilling out too much because of the company's annoying restrictions.

"Don't worry, it will be soon, very soon," Giselle emphasised, a knowing smirk tugging up on her glossy, scrumptious lips... don't ask how you knew which lip gloss she was wearing. You did your detailed research and should it go to waste? No, obviously!

“Really?” Excitement wavering in your face, you leaned closer, and the cracked lenses gave your blurry-ish face justice to your features that got the other woman captivated.

The manager hopefully wouldn’t notice, right?

Subtly, in her scrawny handwriting, she gestured the wrinkled paper with her phone number on it sneakily to the screen trying to signal you. “You can screenshot,” she whispered and your trembling hand gripped your phone into a death grip and screenshotted repeatedly.

Your dreams came true! Maybe, you could become friends with your beloved idol.

As the loud buzzer went off repeatedly signaling the fan call was about to end, Giselle smiled and winked at you with a charming small wave. “Text me,” she mouthed and the fan call ended abruptly.

Was it unfortunate? A little… you did want to talk to her more, but at least you got her phone number!

Later on to the night, you texted her and she was extremely kind.

Little did you know, this led onto ‘friendly’ dates where she paid for every expense, even reaching out to buy luxurious items for you that you couldn’t pronounce the names of.

Wow, all you thought was how much of an idol life benefits to the never-ending money.

Back to the present, oh and the presents she gets you on a nearly weekly basis? It was a variety of watches, clothes mainly, or money itself! This was heaven, you know, although it did catch you off guard by how bold she is sometimes.

Subconsciously, you assumed she’s just a very caring friend and rich. Oh, did you mention that she was rich?

In one of her two-seater cars, leaned against the comfortable beige seat that you never thought you would get the chance to sit down ever in your life; Giselle drove with one hand and another splayed casually on your thigh, the sunlight flashing on her branded glasses.

Noticing how bright red your face was, and not from the heat but from her hands, she bursted into laughter: the laughter that could pay all your debt, college fees, and bills alone.

“You okay there?” She blurted out, raising a curious perfectly-manicured eyebrow.

Shy, you wanted to question on her behaviour and why she pampers you so much specifically with buying things for you. It was a little odd considering the friendship.

“I don’t want to get the wrong idea here…” you started off gingerly glancing at the side window before looking at Giselle, who’s distracted by your conversation to concentrate on driving.

“But you keep spoiling me, like too much for a friend, y’know? Like a sugar mommy.” Immediately, her ears perked up at the phrase and snapped her head towards you, her eyes full of lively emotions and a growing anxiety that maybe you wouldn’t accept her offer behind the blank lenses. Maybe, you would lash out at the offer she so desperately wants to give you.

“Would you be surprised if I…I want to be your sugar mommy?” Jolted in your movements, your eyes slowly went onto hers as she took off her glasses to meet your gaze.

“Huh?” Simply, that was your response, an unnerving answer heavy with uncertainty that gnawed at Giselle’s insides.

“I can’t bear to repeat myself, Y/n.” Ashamed visibly, she looked down before facing the front, her face carefully constructed into a stoic mask to not reveal that she was crumbling inside by the assumed rejection.

Yet, she continued awkwardly, to make her point across at least. Not wanting to seem as if a perverted older woman behind the polished-clean perfect image she had as an idol.

“I've… you told me about your college fees, right? How when you paid them, you barely had the rest to scrape by food, right?” Desperately seeking your audible approval to carry on, she subtly glances over.

“Yeah.” Lazily, you drew out, listening to the bizarre idea of justification having a sugar mommy… that was your favorite idol; it seemed forbidden, too risky to agree to.

“And… and it’s not out of pity or charity work. I want to see you happy, Y/n. And it makes me happy too, and my love language is… gifting, you can say.” Unable to repeat the unspoke unallowed term in the conversation—knowing well that it would just make things more awkward than necessary—Giselle resorted to it to brief it out and glorify it a little.

Not so hesitant now, you peeked at her gingerly, fidgeting with your fingers. “I’ll… I can consider it.”

“Can I convince you?” The red light lit up, indicating a stop, and Giselle swiftly slowed down to a stop, using the short time as an excuse to discuss this.

In anticipation, you sighed, tilting your head in rising curiosity about what she meant in the vague question. It could be anything.

"As in?" You urged her on to continue, and the woman didn't hesitate either.

"Shopping trip." Was the offer mouth-watering and enticing? Yes, really so. Oh, you had to. You hadn't gone to a mall for so long to shop for yourself.

Finding yourself in the buzzing crowds of the mall, bold signs of high-end brands everywhere, with passersby drooling at the sight of the clothes displayed in the windows. Like a child spotting a bright, huge lollipop, you surprisingly shamelessly bought nearly everything in most stores you just wanted to 'look around' in.

Good for Giselle, her money you're spending so carelessly for wasn't even 10% of what she got in her bank account.

Brushing your fingers affectionately against the high-quality, silky fabric, you sought a beautiful dress to wear to a party that would occur later in the week. To enhance your beauty, to make a difference and shock everybody at your college that your wardbrode isn't limited to trashy shirts and baggy jeans.

Giselle noticed how your eyeballs burst into love hearts seeing the tempting dress, so, she whispered against your ear, "you want that?"

Flinching, your face turned into a tomato. "W-well, if you want to spend your money on it... it's a bit pricey. I don't need it, you don't have to!" All acting shy now, the other woman wanted to laugh, finding it endearing how boldly you were using her card for other clothes that were more expensive, and you don't want to spend a little on this one.

She had to buy you this.

Gently, Giselle slid one arm around your waist, leading you to the changing room and gave you the dress supposedly in the right size for you. "At least try it on," she insisted, persistently waiting outside.

Then, a sheepish murmur called out of the changing room for her.

"Giselle?"

"Yeah?" Giselle automatically answered, a little inquisitive about why you were calling her.

"Can you please... uh, help me out for a sec?" Despite how timid you sounded, she rushed in as if helping her baby mama in a labour room and saw the button-up undone on your bare back of your dress.

She swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand. You tried to seem unbothered, too, ignoring that her cool breath was ghosting the back of your neck, making you involuntarily shiver.

"Is this okay now?" You nodded to her question, though the tension in the cramped space made you dizzy.

Subconsciously, her slender fingers stroke up on your sides to caress your exposed collarbones lovingly, pressing her fingertips into the soft skin as if illuminating a sensual massage as her eyes locked with yours in the mirror.

“You like that?” Giselle breathes out, knowing well what the answer would be.

“Yes...” Your voice cutely cracked, making her laugh lightly against your shoulder.

Leaning closer to your face, the other woman paused in her overflowing affection. “May I do a little more?”

Is that even a question?

“Please.”

Desperation was clear in her hasty movements, pinning you against the side wall carefully, kissing you messily as if planning to have something more since day one of knowing such a pretty girl like you.

Both hands protectively splayed on your back, holding you still as her lips devoured yours as if she had touch-starved for years, her breath stuck in her throat when her aching bulge grazed against your throat in her skirt.

Embarrassed, Giselle’s breathing quickened and she pulled away slightly. Her doe, regretful eyes met yours slowly, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, shy too. This was a hopeless scenario.

Feeling the thick tent, brushing insistently on your revealed thighs, you hung back your hand just yet. “Can you… you know.”

Regardless the situation being painfully awkward, Giselle found herself falling over heels for you.

Unbuckling her belt, she zipped her jeans along with her tight boxers, revealing her cock springing up and pre-cum already leaking on the pink tip like her pink hair.

Her mini handbag hung on her shoulder, she zipped it open and got a condom, opening it quickly she put the oil-drenched plastic over her dick which was so, so, painfully hard and ready for you.

Propping your legs around her waist like a belt, Giselle sloppily pampered kisses on your jaw, plastering her chanel lipstick stains all over to brand you as hers.

Unbothered to take your skirt off, she tucked it up and nearly tore off your panties but knew it wouldn’t cost much anyway to get you a new pair.

“My underwear, I just bought them a few days ago!” You whisper-shouted, annoyance etching on your face.

“I’ll buy you a better pair, today maybe,” she husked through gritted teeth, lining up her tip and rubbing it against your dripping clit enhancing a low muffled moan out of your lips.

Too much dazed in pleasure not even when the sex started, she rammed up her girthy cock in you and clasped your mouth to muffle your moans; she forgot this was in public.

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry baby… mommy’s got you,” Giselle bit her lip to stifle her groans, slamming in a little more reluctantly to not make too much noise in a dressing room.

Creating a soothing tempo for you specifically, she pants hard, leaning a little away to see your glazed-over eyes and holding eye contact. Oh, that alone was enough for her to cum as your inner walls hugged her cock so snugly.

“Oh fuck!” Giselle whined into your shoulders, trembling uncontrollably, thrusting up against you desperately as she rode through her shattering orgasm.

Trying to catch her breath, she felt sweaty and hot, her jaw slickened with sweat trailing down to her collarbones, and that alone made her want to give you babies too instead of merely being her sugar baby as she requested.

“Pull out…” you gasped out, feeling a missing part of you as her softened cock popped out of your empty pussy.

Weakened knees gave away immediately anyway as you dropped down to the floor, looking up at her and her face flushed at the implication of where this was going. The sight of you potentially ruining this gorgeous and expensive dress just to suck her off made her hard all over again.

“I’ll be careful, okay..?” Giselle tried to reassure you, not wanting to leave any evidence of your fucking in a public changing room. Throwing the cum-filled condom into a bin nearby, she made sure the other rubbish covered it before leaning against the wall and biting her lip, staring you down and signaling for you to start.

“Mhm,” you barely hummed, spitting on her cock and pumping it up and down having her teeth mumbling to her bottom lip to stifle her impending moans and whimpers.

Your wet, swollen lips from the earlier messy make-out session cupped her leaking cockhead, sucking lightly and your cheeks hallowed out.

Twirling your tongue around the tip like a sweet lollipop, tasting the subtle salty flavor of the pre-cum, you opened your mouth further and bobbed your head up and down urgently stroking the parts of the dick that you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Mm… good girl,” Giselle gritted out, “suck mommy like that, yeah? Oh, just like that…” her legs shook from the overwhelming sensation itself of your warm, welcoming mouth embracing her cock.

Occasionally, you did gag when her dick hit a little too deep and Giselle’s hand reached down to nestle the back of your hair softly to control the rhythm of your sucking so it wouldn’t be painful for you to take her length that could be a bit too big for you.

“Mommy’s so proud of you… you’ve been such a good girl for mommy, haven’t you? Ah… suck like that and mommy will buy you the whole fucking mall…” she rambled on mindlessly but in the back of her barely-functioning brain knew there was a ninety percent chance that she would act upon her words later on.

In pure bliss, her eyes closed contentedly and covered her own mouth to muffle her moans when she felt the orgasm rushing to her dick.

Before she knew it, her cum painted all over in your mouth and you swallowed it all obediently. That fact alone was going to make her cry out of happiness.

Then, you released her now completely soft cock out of your mouth and coughed slightly on your breath. “Oh, fuck…” you mumbled, stumbling to your feet with the help of the other woman as her other free hand tucked herself back in and fixed her jeans.

“I’m so proud of you baby,” she wiped your wet lips dry, and let you get out of the dress by yourself to your old clothes.

Gingerly, she rubbed the back of her neck. “Hopefully nobody noticed that outside.”

Humiliated at the thought, you choked again and she rubbed your back instinctively to calm you down. “Oh God.” Peeking through the curtains, nobody was around in the store anymore and only some staff lurked at the entrance of the store oblivious to what just occurred.

“Hopefully not.” Giselle nodded grimly along, not wanting to seem too suspicious, she got out and put your dress away before exiting.

And when you stumbled out a few minutes later after composing yourself, she smiled innocently at you and held the many bags for you as if roughly about ten minutes ago didn’t fuck the shit out of you.

“Come on, baby, I’ll order that dress for you when I’m home.” Linking arms with you anyway, Giselle’s eyes crinkled at the fantasies fogging her brain up at how there was a chance with you that now… you could be her sugar baby.

Giselle was going to explode.

[098kw]

YOU HAVE A NEW LIKE! select NCT members as hinge messages i've received 𓍯𓂃 all for shits & giggles! warnings cursing, yang's (14) mentions a kys joke, taeyong's second message (17) mentions blood

🧾 © 00127am 2O24

[xinganhao]

✆ send to: maknae line.

contact list: seokmin, mingyu, minghao, seungkwan, vernon, and chan. for hyung line, see here. return to pinned?

🍰 requests ⋆🍓 personal favorites ⋆ 💐 series ⋆ 🔞 contains mature themes.

ⓘ work that are part of a series/milestone event are not linked below. please refer to my pinned post -> respective series/milestone posts.

📱 MULTIPLE MEMBERS.

“playing for your number” (challengers!seokmin x reader x vernon)

to all the boys i've loved before

older brother!seungcheol vs. boyfriend!mingyu 🍰

older brother!mingyu vs. boyfriend!wonwoo 🍰

📱 SEOKMIN.

seokmin x pitching instructor!reader

childhood romance!seokmin x reader 💐

☎︎ moments: lookalike contest!seokmin

📱 MINGYU.

boy best friend!mingyu 🍰

“not for sale” (celebrity!mingyu x small business owner!reader) 🍰🍓💐

📱 MINGHAO.

minghao x translator!reader

minghao x art director!reader 🍓

☎︎ moments: tampo!minghao

📱 SEUNGKWAN.

fake dating seungkwan 🍓 ── more: ✩

high school boyfriend!seungkwan x reader 💐

“tangerine tours” (tour guide!seungkwan x reader)

☎︎ moments: strangers to enemies!seungkwan

📱 VERNON.

“catch you when i can” (vernon x rockstar!reader) 🍰🍓💐

☎︎ moments: spotify wrapped!vernon

📱 CHAN.

“operation dispatch” (chan x idol!reader)

“confession is not flashy” (doctors!chan x reader)

“to chan, whom i loved before” (childhood best friend!chan x reader)

🧾 © xinganhao, est. 2024. answered asks: here. good morning, and in case i don't see ya— good afternoon, good evening, and good night! 🧸

[s4nlight]

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -HEADCANONS - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧︵‿︵

-╔═.✾. ════╗----

BRUCE WAYNE BATMAN If You're his FRIEND:

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'd be a little overprotective as a friend. He'd always be worried you might be in danger (Especially if you knew he was batman)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'd always remember little details about you even if you only mentioned them once.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'd be a good listener. He'd listen patiently when you talk and would give his honest input.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He would be your shoulder to lean on. He'd make time for you if you need someone.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'd pay for all your meals, sometimes without even discussing it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: Even if you were just friends, you might still be seen as a "person of interest" to gossip sites. he'd apologize if any paparazzi ever bothered you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'll take notice of things like what little quirks or habits you have. If you bounce your leg while nervous, or bite your nails when bored he will remember those.

If you're in the JUSTICE LEAGUE:

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'd worry less since he knows you'd be able to defend yourself.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'll be a bit more lighthearted and less stern with you than he is with others when on the job.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'd try not to show his soft/gentle side, wouldn't want anyone to think he's playing favourites.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'd make sure you were always included. If other members plan something, he'd make sure you were invited.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚: He'd have little 'inside jokes' with you or little things just between you two.

----╚════.✾. ═╝- 📃MASTERLIST Thank you for reading! I would appreciate it if you reblog my post. Thank you!(•̀ω•́)✧

-╔═.✾.════╗----

REQUEST HERE:

╰┈➤ 🧾LINK

----╚════.✾.═╝-

[gyubakeries]

gyubakeries milestone event!

welcome to my milestone event! thank you for 500 followers! it's been around 6 months since i decided to start writing here and i'm so grateful for everyone who has liked my works! to celebrate this milestone, i wanted to do a little event <3 i'll be taking in all the requests now, but the posting will start only around april, since i'll be extremely busy till then.

the writing for all requested prompts will be short fics, unless i'm inspired to extend it into a longer fic. i'll stop taking requests for this event at the end of april, so requests will be taken on a first-come-first-serve basis. any requests coming in after the event is over, i.e. after april 30, won't be accepted.

please don't make multiple requests in one ask. feel free to make multiple requests though! i want to write as much as i can for all of you <3

stay tuned for all the fics coming out for this event! posting will not be in any particular order, they'll be posted whenever i'm done writing!

please note that while NSFW prompts are allowed, any minors found interacting with 18+ requests will be blocked.

p.s. i've linked both the masterlists as well as tags for this event for your convenience!

food menu 🍞🥐🥞 :

you can order 1 fic with upto 3 of these dialogue prompts and a seventeen member + a genre (fluff/suggestive/angst/comedy) + any plot points you have in mind!

p.s. if you have any of your own dialogues/lines you wish to use, feel free to do so!

collect your orders from [ food order counter 🧾 ] or scroll through the food menu at #food order receipts

sample food order!

𐙚 can i order angst prompt 16 + fluff prompt 20 for mingyu?

drinks menu ☕🧋🍵:

you can order 1 smau with a text prompt and a seventeen member + a genre (fluff/suggestive/angst/comedy) + any plot points you have in mind! you could order an ot13 reaction too!

p.s. you can use the food menu prompts for ideas or use your own prompts too!

collect your orders from [ drink order counter 🧾 ] or scroll through the drinks menu at #drinks order receipts

sample drinks order!

𐙚 can i order an smau with the prompt "we need to talk." for junhui? please make it funny!

take-away menu 🥡:

you can order 1 fic with your favorite lyric/quote and a seventeen member + a genre (fluff/suggestive/angst/comedy) + any plot points you have in mind!

p.s. please include the name of the song/poem you are quoting so i can understand the vibe better!

collect your orders from [ take-away order counter 🧾 ] or scroll through the take-away menu at #take-away order receipts

sample take-away order!

𐙚 can i order a vernon fic with the lyrics "crawling back to you / ever thought of calling when you had a few?" (do i wanna know - arctic monkeys) ?

no more orders will be taken ! orders are closed <3

once again, thank you for all the love and support! looking forward to writing more for you all <3

prompts are not my own!

fill this form to be added to the taglist <3

head to the masterlist for more!

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝟑𝐊 𝐕-𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

welcome to the table of contents for my three-thousand followers celebration !!!

i’m amazed that we’ve reached this milestone, and so quickly at that! in under three months there were one thousand more of y'all !!! in that short period, i did succeed in staying active on tumblr and interacting with many of you—i got so many requests that i’m STILL working my way through, i’ve chatted to some of you through my inbox, and dm’s or replies, and i will forever be grateful for the endless support, laughs, and encouragement y’all have offered me.  sending love to my moots: ilysm. thank you for any bit of chatting you’ve had with me—i really do cherish every one of you, no matter how small or large our interaction has been. extremely happy to call you my moots < 3. @biancathecool @barnestatic @ashiekins @saintslewis @lorarri @ham1lton @loomiscorpse @vetteltea @hookhausenschips @shurisasthmaticgf @mauvecherie-writes @omgsuperstarg @justaf1girl @emjayewrites (i'm sorry if i've forgotten someone, i love you dearly, i promise x) and, of course, a huge ily & tysm to the members of the taglists! i would tag you here but there are too many of you (pls i love y'all down < 3) and it would break the post :) i can’t promise that i will be able to answer every ask, but i will try my hardest to do as many as i can. i love you all and thank you so much, loves. xoxox

i mainly write fem!black/poc!readers so if you would like another race/ethnicity for the !reader please send that in your request! please feel free to send a faceclaim too! i accept male! & gn!reader requests as well!

before sending your request check for: an approved driver(s) from the mechanic list below, you've specified which prompt list and number you are selecting, and that you've adhered to the blog guidelines !!!

THIS EVENT HAS ENDED. READ THE COMPLETED 3k vday celly fics here.

posts tagged as # httpss :/ 3k vday celly. | status: completed | table of contents.

choose your mechanic(s) — mv. 1 | ls. 2 | dr. 3 | ln. 4 | pg. 10 | ka. 12 | fa. 14 | cl. 16 | ls. 18 | yt. 22 | aa. 23 | ll. 30 | eo. 31 | fc. 43 | lh. 44 | ms. 47 | cs. 55 | gr. 63 | op. 81 | ob. 87

🚗 let’s take a look! — send me the @ of someone you want to show love to! it can be absolutely anyone: a writer, a moot, a friend, or a funny blog you love !!! be the positivity we all want to receive :)

🔦 shine the light right here! — ask me anything !!! questions, writing/smau help, my faves, fic recs, writer recs, would you rather, never have i ever, fmk, etc. xxxx

🛞  tread’s uneven: time for a tire rotation! — send me a driver and a prompt from this list of pre-relationship prompts, or these established relationship prompts, or these hurt/comfort prompts, and i’ll write a blurb or drabble for you xxx (prompt lists are made by me!)

🛢️ 3,000 miles: time for an oil change! — send me a driver and a random word/theme/vibe (literally !!! any word/theme/vibe) and i’ll make a tiny social media au for you !!!

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

🧾 the policy states: cuties don’t pay! — send me a driver and two (2) letters from this nsfw alphabet !!!

© httpsserene — photos used in header are from pinterest. mdni divider from @cafekitsune.

[dollielliot]

♬ ྀ ㅤ🧾 ㅤ⬚͒ Elliot Rodger's purchases leading up to the isla vista shooting ✉͟️͟

Elliot Rodger used a Chase debit card to make most of his purchases. The debit card was linked to a Chase checking account that was only in his name. He received a monthly allowance of $500 per month from Peter. The suspect also received additional monetary deposits into his checking account from other family members.

Elliot Rodger's Chase checking account included the following transactions of interest:

( 12/4/12 ) ⤷　 　$755.57 — Goleta Valley Gun & Supply, a firearms dealer in Goleta, CA'63

( 3/12/13, 3/13/13 ) ⤷　 　$1,179.48 — Gun World, a firearms dealer in Burbank, CA 164 + ⤷　 　$460.00 — Botach Tactical, a tactical equipment dealer in Los Angeles, CA 165

( 3/29/13, 1/17/14, 2/14/14, 2/22/14, 2/22/14 ) ⤷　 　$92.60 — The Target Range, a shooting range in Van Nuys, CA + ⤷　 　$32.51 — Goleta Valley Gun & Supply + ⤷　 　$109.09 — The Target Range + ⤷　 　$1,132.00 — B&G Guns, a firearms dealer in Oxnard, CA 166 + ⤷　 　$121.48 — Shooter's Paradise, a shooting range in Oxnard, CA l67 + SBSO case 14-7595, supplement 0238 + SBSO case 14-7595, supplement 0234

Financial records from ( 8/26/09 to 5/23/14 ) were examined

Purchase of 9mm Glock 34 semi-automatic pistol + Purchase of 9mm Sig Sauer P226R semi-automatic pistol + Purchase of ten Sig Sauer P226 9mm magazines (10 round capacity) + 16 Purchase of 9mm Sig Sauer P226R semi-automatic pistol + 167 Purchase of pistol cleaning kit + Cold Steel Boar Hunter knife

[maestro-net]

⠀⠀📬⠀You have been accepted to... M☆ESTRO-NET

Welcome to M☆ESTRO-NET @talkingsaxy @jiabae !!

now that you’ve been accepted please reblog this post, make sure you’re following @maestro-net from the account you want your work reblogged from. please link this blog on your pinned post/profile. an admin will send you the discord link via dm very soon ◠‿◠ thank u for applying .ᐟ .ᐟ

interested in joining? Application is open now!!

[seventhcallisto]

Just had a little idea... flashing lights and eyestrain warning.

❝you shine like emerald❞

LOADING...

Happy House.

Stray Kids (ot8) x F!Reader (9th member addition)

PREVIEW: "I am not a member of stray kids!" You kick up the papers littering the floor. Frustratingly pulling at your hoodie. "They're always screwing over those guys. I feel kinda bad." Your most trusted friend, Jiu, snickers behind her bright laptop screen. "I-i should have left when I had the chance! Should have joined that dance group that tried to recruit me! Why did I think I was gonna be the next jihyo!? Oh god." You pace, waving your hands around to drain the building anxiety curling into your lungs and making it's home there. You twist towards jiu falling to your knees and wailing miserably. Childishly.

"I wasn't even on the show. It's a boy group! I'm going to get eaten alive! I'm a trainee! They have years over me! I'm so dead. My career is already over before it started. My life is over." You fall to the floor. Completely done with this whole ordeal and the accident you've gone through, sniffling pitifully. "I told you to always read the fine print. You never listen." Jiu scolds. She, in fact, did not, but she wants to make you feel worse as your best friend. Pink nails flick tiny specks of popcorn towards your slumped body on the floor. And she's right. You should have read the fine print before some businessman shoved a pen into your face. What is so wrong with stray kids that you're being made a fool just to make them look bad? Would adding you tear the group dynamic? You know you're screwed as soon as your concept photos drop.

SYNOPSIS: As if some type of double-sided punishment, you're manipulated to join one of jyps' most successful groups. Stray Kids. Added as an extra member and with no experience just to cast you off as another unsuccessful idol, all because you didn't read the fine print when they dangled the keys to your dream in front of your face. They've got tricks up their sleeves, and the contract you signed says you're a permanent member of the unsuspecting group of guys now. You had no idea you were signing that type of contract. And you especially have no idea why they're trying to bring down their biggest boy group.

table of content + cws: she/her pronouns. female anatomy. major age differences but not in a power-hungry way(ur 19). invisible honorifics, I swear. manipulation. jyp(ent) is kinda the villain here(ilyjypplsdontsueme). ace!trainee reader. inexperienced reader. forced proximity and friendship. the members r kinda mean at first. Sorry, not sorry. ooc stray kids bc no one knows them like they know themselves. overworking. growing friendships. polyamorous(sharingiscaring). quick mutual pining(but they don't realize it). eventual smut.

Prologue. — 🧾

Chapt. ⓵ ❝_____❞

chpt. ⓶ , chpt. ⓷ , chpt. ⓸, chpt. ⓹, etc.

To be continued.. 🧷

I accidently posted this too early (crying). Lmk what you guys think ! — calli.

[taglist is open]

© seventhcallisto 11/22/2023

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content. degradation, power play, light choking, semi-public fingering, light coercion (entirely consensual), dirty talk, wet panties, messy fingers, brat taming, felix is a fucking menace in a silk shirt

⍣ ೋ notes: changed the color!! idk if im burning out already but i decided to switch it up a bit just to see if it would make it better. kinda missing the pink already.

🧾 FORMAL INVESTIGATION REPORT

Filed by: ERROR Subject: ERROR Staff Member Under Review: ERROR Guest Involved: ERROR

INT. SKZOTEL – CONFESSIONAL ROOM (A.K.A. MAINTENANCE CLOSET WITH A RING LIGHT)

[Camera clicks on.] Felix is already in frame, lounging sideways on a folding chair like he owns the place. His uniform is pristine, hat tilted a little too stylishly. In his hand, a crumpled guest complaint—folded once, then again, then probably kissed before he slipped it in his back pocket.

FELIX (grinning): "Okay, so technically... this was supposed to go to Aeryn."

He holds up the complaint letter between two fingers, like it's something precious. His grin widens.

FELIX: "But I may or may not check the internal submission box every morning before she gets in. You know—just to be helpful."

He leans in, eyes sparkling with mischief.

FELIX: "This one? Yeah, this one's about me. And look—before anyone starts pointing fingers, I was doing my job. I did help the guest with their luggage. I was polite, charming, responsible… bordering on adorable, honestly."

A beat. His smile turns wicked.

FELIX: "And maybe... just maybe I lingered. Just a little. But can you blame me?"

______________________________________________________________

You didn’t think he’d actually read it. The note was meant to be private. Filed. Forgotten. Handled discreetly.

But now?

That unmistakable voice cuts through the spa corridor, slow and molten, thick with a smugness that curls heat right between your legs.

“Room 630,” Felix drawls behind you, syrup-sweet and scathing. “Is that what they’re calling you?”

You stop like you’ve been caught—and you have. You know that voice. That accent, dipped in honey and sin.

You turn slowly, spine straight, face schooled, but your heart’s already thundering.

And there he is.

The bellboy.

Leaning against the hallway wall like it belongs to him. Button-down loose, too many buttons undone, collarbone sharp, pretty smirk even sharper.

Your complaint’s in his hand.

Your complaint.

The one you slipped into the concierge box with trembling fingers.

His eyes are on you like he’s reading your mind.

“Didn’t even sign it,” he tsks, folding the paper once, twice—stuffing it casually into his back pocket. “Didn’t use my name. That’s rude, babe. I gave you so much to work with.”

He takes a step forward, slow and deliberate. You take a step back, eyes flickering to his name tag.

“Felix—”

“Oh no,” he cuts you off smoothly, “you don’t get to say my name now. Not after this.”

Another step.

Your back hits the wall.

And suddenly he’s right there. Crowding your space. Shadowing you. Hand against the wall beside your head.

His breath ghosts along your jaw as he leans in, tilting his head just enough to speak right into your ear.

“You think tattling makes you innocent?” he whispers. “You wrote me up, baby. Like a brat who didn’t get what she wanted. Like a needy little bitch too scared to ask for it.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“But you did.”

His hand skims down your waist, hot and possessive, just the barest tease of touch.

“Don’t lie to me. You knew exactly what you were doing. All those soft little looks, letting me carry your bags, ringing that bell like you wanted me on my knees.”

You gasp as his fingers dip under your dress, the brush of his knuckles ghosting your thigh.

“What was it?” he murmurs, voice low and wicked. “Was I too slow? Not flirty enough? Or were you just pissed I didn’t bend you over the cart right then and there?”

Your breath hitches. He feels it. Smiles.

“God, you did want it,” he laughs, cruel and soft. “Didn’t even bother hiding it. Could’ve just said, ‘please fuck me, Felix.’ Would’ve made this so much easier.”

His fingers slip beneath your panties, and you choke on a moan.

“Shit,” he groans, forehead pressing to yours. “Already soaked. You liked writing me up, huh? Got yourself wet filing a formal complaint like a desperate little whore.”

Your cheeks burn. He eats it up.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say you got off on it.”

You look away. He grabs your chin and forces you back to him.

“I said—say it.”

“I—got off on it,” you breathe. “Wanted your attention.”

He laughs—a wicked, delighted sound.

“There she is. My needy little mess.”

He pushes two fingers in deep, no warning—so fast and smooth you swear your knees might give. The stretch is sudden, perfect, and he knows it, groaning right against your ear as you choke on a moan.

You gasp, back arching, thighs trembling.

“Ohhh, yeah,” he groans. “Tight little cunt. All this for me?”

“Felix—someone could—”

“Let them. Shit—listen to that,” he pants, pulling his fingers back just slightly. The obscene slick, wet squelch echoes in the quiet hallway, and he laughs, low and filthy. “That’s you, baby. That’s how bad you want me.”

He curls them, finding your spot with practiced ease—pressing, teasing, dragging along that sweet bundle of nerves over and over until you’re clawing at his shirt, thighs trembling around his wrist.

“You write me up,” he hisses, fucking you with slow, deliberate pumps. “You tattle on me. But your cunt’s telling me the truth.”

His thumb drags up, just brushing your clit. Barely a touch—but it’s enough to make your hips jerk, to make your breath stutter out in a pathetic little gasp.

“There she is,” he growls. “There’s my needy little girl.”

His fingers start moving faster—deep and rough, the perfect rhythm that makes your mind go white. He’s relentless. Curling, thrusting, grinding his palm against your clit until you’re whining into his neck, hips grinding down like a slut in heat.

“You feel that?” he grits out. “Feel how tight you’re squeezing me? Like this hole’s been waiting for me.”

You whimper, trying to hold on, but he’s everywhere—his breath hot on your cheek, his fingers wrecking you, his voice in your ear like a brand you can’t shake.

“Gonna cum just from my hand, aren’t you?” he sneers, licking a stripe up your throat. “From getting finger-fucked in a hallway like the desperate little whore you are.”

Your whole body shudders.

He laughs again—meaner now.

“I can feel it,” he whispers, breathless. “You’re close. So fucking close. Gonna make a mess all over my hand, huh? You gonna ruin your cute little panties for me?”

You nod, too far gone for words, and he snarls—

“No.”

He rips his hand away like he’s punishing you—like you did something wrong—and your whole body screams from the loss, thighs clenching uselessly as the orgasm dies, denied and dragging like a blade.

You sob—a soft, broken sound—and he moans at the sound of it, gripping your jaw with his clean hand.

“Look at you,” he breathes, dragging his soaked fingers up between your legs and spreading them in front of your face. They glisten in the dim lighting—shiny, sticky, dripping.

“You see this mess? This fucking disaster of a cunt? All because I said your room number.”

And then he taps your cheek.

“Open.”

You do—so automatic, so eager it makes his pupils blow wide with satisfaction.

He pushes the fingers into your mouth, slow and deep. You moan around them, tongue greedy, sucking like it’s the only thing tethering you to the earth.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your mouth. “That’s what I thought.”

He pulls them out—slower now, watching the spit trail cling to your lips before snapping messily to his knuckles.

“You taste how much you wanted me?” he whispers, filthy and smug. “Next time you need attention, you don’t go crying to the concierge.”

He leans in, mouth a breath from yours.

You moan, shameless now, licking him clean like it’s what you were born for.

He leans in closer, mouth brushing your ear.

“You wanna cum?” he asks.

“Yes—please—”

He smirks. Leans down, lips hovering over yours.

“Beg.”

You hesitate. He wraps a hand around your throat—light, a tease of pressure, just enough to make you still.

“I said—beg.”

“Please, please,” you whisper. “Please make me cum.”

“Louder.”

“Please—fuck—please, I need it, need you—”

He grins. A slow, devastating thing.

“There we go,” he purrs. 

And then?

Then he tugs you into the nearest guest suite—unoccupied, unlocked, perfect. He bends you over the bed before the door even clicks shut.

His voice is the last thing you hear before your moans drown everything else out:

“You want to file another complaint?” he hisses in your ear. “Better make sure it’s legible with my cock down your throat.”

INT. SKZOTEL – CONFESSIONAL ROOM (A.K.A. MAINTENANCE CLOSET WITH A RING LIGHT) [Camera clicks back on.] Felix is back in the folding chair, this time looking a little less pristine. His hat’s missing, hair mussed. One button too many undone. His fingers glint faintly with something that’s definitely not ring light residue.

He licks the edge of his thumb, slow and casual, then flashes the camera a crooked grin.

FELIX (shrugging): “Guest's satisfied. That’s all that matters, right?”

He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out the now much more crumpled complaint, and fans himself with it.

FELIX (mock-innocent): “I’d file a report about it, but... turns out my hands were kinda full.”

He lifts his fingers to his lips again—tastes the air like he’s savoring a secret. 

FELIX (deadpan): “And if Aeryn asks why the formal complaint never made it to her desk...”

He leans in, voice low and conspiratorial.

FELIX: “Tell her I handled it.” [END OF RECORDING]

series taglist: @nightmarenyxx @miyaluvvsyou @jisuperboard @fackeraccount @silly250 @lov3rachan @lze325 @angel-writes-here @jesuisstay @lov3rachan @lze325 @scribblesnsketches05 @jesuisstay @slut4junho @wickedbutlovely @woozarts @pixie-felix

[08luvmailz]

天堂之門的金色光芒 ★ ﾟ๑ INSTA UPDATE ୧ ⊹ ࣪ ❪ March 7, 2018 ❫

❪ 𝖶𝖧𝒾𝖲𝖯𝖤𝖱𝖲 ❫ ｡drinking with oscar isaac and pedro pascal, the couple ──⠀ fluff ꒰ 🧾 ꒱ when life give you tangerines , 9th member of girls generation ⸝⸝ ◜◡◝ my baby girl pedro and oscar

Liked by pascalispunk, amariidoll, and 70,257 others elvira_lind_ thank goodness im not the only one babysitting this couple - were done with you. view all comments

amariidoll i told pedrito to drink water , not beer

monniiee AHHHHHH

dollete OSCAR, PEDRO AND AMARI MY NEW BERMUDA TRIANGLE!?

pascalispunk i hate kareoke with you @amariidoll

amariidoll replying to pascalispunk sore loser

[098kw]

@ notyourmalelead top of his class, hallway crush kim doyoung isn't very interested in his semester long partnership with sailor moon obsessed, popular vlogger: you. until  your larger than life crush on him is revealed. then he's much more interested in proving that he's not your male lead (and subsequently wishing he was).

@ sailormoon / 🔒 @ tuxedomasksgf yn. pretty guardian girl sailor of love and justice! hopeless romantic, sailor moon obsessed, (very popular) lifestyle vlogger ln yn who cannot stand her hot group mate, kim doyoung, despite her unbelievably large crush on him. she wants to have more friends who are girls but is too caught up with kim doyoung to even think about it.  sailor moon alignment? usagi tsukino, obviously.

@ mrworldwidesexy   johnny. handsome, carefree, lifestyle vlogger johnny suh is the it boy of ncit. or... well he would be if he wasn't constantly caught on camera goofing off. he wants to eat at the one, expensive sushi place near your apartment but has to find a way to trick donghyuck into paying for it first.    sailor moon alignment? sailor uranus.

@ ilovemarklee     yuta. campus's most coveted, popular vlogger, bass and soccer star yuta nakamoto who really only has eyes for mark lee--much to the dismay of most of the student body. he wants to see mark. that's all there is, really.  sailor moon alignment? sailor mars.

@ onyourmark    mark. captain of the basketball team, famous vlogger and streamer mark lee who is a notorious heartbreaker... well, not that he knows it. he's a little dense in that department, like, they want to be friends right? he wants to get youtube's golden button before donghyuck so he won't have to hear about it for the rest of his life. sailor moon alignment? sailor jupiter.

@ samoyed    jeno. soft spoken pretty boy and social media hermit lee jeno is the only member of the friend group who doesn't have an online presence. and yet, he still manages to have a fanbase that (at the end all be all) trumps the rest of his friends--a fact that keeps donghyuck up at night. he wants one day of peace where he isn't dragged into whatever his friends are scheming, not that he really minds. sailor moon alignment? sailor mercury.

@ haechanahceah     haechan. twitch streamer lee donghyuck who you can constantly find hanging around yn. in real life and online. he seems pretty infatuated but no one can really tell if its all a bit or not. he wants to get youtube's golden button as soon as possible so he can hold it over mark's head.  sailor moon alignment? prince demande.

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🧾 © 098kw 2O25