#Skrrr

[athforskz]

I have recently started calling every squirrel or chipmunk I see in the middle of the road ‘Han’.

For instance, I’m driving and there’s a squirrel eating some tasty treenut in the middle of the road I’ll scream: “Get outta the way Han Jisung!”

Even when I see a rabbit in my backyard eating the veggies from the garden I shout: “Lee Know stay out of my peppers!”

Does anyone else do similar stuff? No… just me? Okay 🫡

[pseudowho]

"Oh! Kento-- wait-- please please please--"

Kento turned back on the bustling Tokyo street, the night bullied away by neon signs, light pollution, and the pollution of the wayward drunken laughers. He only came on staff nights out, now, because you'd be there. He peered at you, tie-loose, hair-mussed and bleary, as you knelt in front of a Gacha machine. You rummaged in your purse for a coin.

Kento grunted, smirking, and reached into his clinking pocket, swaying back to you with liquor-rusted words.

"You're drunk. Here--"

"A-ha!" You birthed a 500 yen coin from your purse, triumphant, and Kento felt childishly disappointed that he couldn't pay for your inebriation treat for you. He watched you fumble the coin into the Gacha machine, and turn the wheel, crank, crank, cranking until there sounded a hollow tok, and a skrrr-skrrr-skrrr, tok.

The Gacha pod landed in the dispenser. You gasped, biting your lip in sweet anticipation, and looking up at Kento. He could barely contain himself from his own adoration, wanting nothing more than to reach down and grasp your plush cheeks and press his lips to yours and taste the drink off your tongue and--

"Kiss, Kento."

Kento frog-blinked, wondering if he'd spoken such impurities aloud, and opened his mouth to apologise. But he paused again, leaning down over you, knelt on the pavement, where you held the Gacha pod up to him, and repeated yourself, ditzy-drunk.

"Kiss it, Kento. For luck. For me."

Self-conscious, and grumbling in a way that only deepened your grin, Kento leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to the Gacha pod as you laughed. He straightened up, looking up and down the street to see if anyone saw, his vision a few seconds slower than his mind, wading through whiskey.

Heat rose up Kento's neck, and he opened his mouth again to suggest something stupid like why don't you come back to mine for another drink and--

"Awww, damn! This one again!" Kento looked down at you, owlish and inquisitive. You held up a little keychain, with a disappointed half-smile on your lips. You grimaced up at him, shrugging.

"That was my last shot I think. This line discontinues next week. Never mind." You tapped the front of the Gacha machine, stroking the green image of the one you were after, wistful.

Kento pulled you to your feet, and you linked your arm through his, swaying down the street together. Kento swallowed hard, wishing you were on his back, but instead blurted out;

"I'm sorry my kiss wasn't lucky enough."

You sighed, pensive, swinging your keychain on one finger.

"I'm sure they're plenty lucky. Just, maybe not for me."

Kento barely registered your words, distracted and glancing back down the street at the flashing Gacha machine, growing ever more distant.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Between lessons a few days later, you crept into your office to dump essays on your desk, and snatch five minutes of peace. Settling your mug down, you saw the glimmer of brightly coloured plastic on the centre of your keyboard.

You blinked, curious, before a smile of realisation broke out across your face. A Gacha pod. You recalled, with your cheeks growing hot, how you had begged Kento for his lucky kiss, and how he hadn't corrected you when you told him that his lucky kisses would only be lucky for another girl. You felt a sting of humiliation...

...but, nobody else could have left this gift. Taking a deep breath, and pressing your lips to the pod (unknowingly stealing a kiss that had already been left there for you), you cracked it open-- and squealed with delight, ecstatic and fizzing with joy, to find your collection completed in the eleventh hour.

Later, at the first ring of the lunchtime bell, you knocked on the door to Kento's office. No answer. You knocked again, and gently opened the door, peering round and calling out.

"Kento...?"

Still, no answer. You crept in, closing the door behind you. His office was empty, his desk sparse and functional as always, not wanting to turn his desk into anything that would suggest he thought of work as home. The cupboard on his desk, was, however, straining at its latch, wonky at the closing seam from something stuffed inside.

Curious once more, you stroked the bursting seam of the cupboard, and undid the latch.

A veritable ball-pit burst forth over the office, with Gacha pods of yellow and red and orange and pink and blue and purple and black and white and--

--and every colour, except for green. Dozens and dozens of Gacha pods...except, for green. That one, you held in your purse. You swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and collected Gacha after Gacha, from beneath cupboards and radiators, rolled to all four corners of Kento's office.

Setting to work, you sat cross-legged on the floor, emptying the pods of their keychains one by one. Thousands and thousands of yen tallied before your eyes, and the plain, unassuming desk behind you said nothing of your coworker's secret obsession. And how he couldn't face you. And how you would never have known.

You sat in silence, with a lap full of empty Gacha pods, and listening to the birds singing songs of summer outside the window. You thought, and thought, and thought. You ripped pages from your notebook, tearing them to shreds, and set to work once more. By the time you were finished, the lunch bell rang again. You crammed the final Gacha back into the cupboard.

You could only wait, and hope.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The warm summer rain started as evening began to roll in. You looked out of the Bistro window from your table for two, your belly twisted with nerves. Your green prize was clasped in your hand, a lucky charm; one earned with far more luck than a simple kiss could give.

You heard the jangling of a bell behind you. You dared not look up, instead just listening-- slow, familiar footsteps. The rattling clunk of a tote bag being placed before you, filled with Gacha pods. The rustle of a stack of carefully unfolded little notes, all with one word on; 'tomorrow'. 'Café'. 'You'. 'Me'. '8pm.'

"You broke into my cupboard."

You pursed the smile between your lips, your eyes closing with the silken chastisement, made without venom. Kento's cologne washed over you as he sat on the chair opposite, removing his glasses in a way that softened his face completely, looking at his lap with a smile. When he looked up at you, it was with a love so unapologetic that you could have cried.

You felt your nose stinging again, and set your green Gacha prize on the table between the two of you. Sheets of rain washed down the Bistro windows, and you cleared your throat, your voice cracking.

"This is quite the prize."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Kento! I'm home!"

You dumped your shoes and bag at the door, padding into the living room on bare feet. Kento leaned away from the stove, twirling spaghetti, and offering you the smiles he offered nobody else. He anticipated you, as your mouth opened.

"--yes, I went to the Gachapon. They're on the sofa. Pre-kissed."

You gasped in delight, in the same way you had that night, and bounced onto the sofa, two Gacha leaping with you.

"Two?" You cried, to his shrug, "I only said one-- you can't keep funding my habit, Kento--"

"I'm sure one would have been fine. But, just in case."

You barely registered Kento stepping over to you in his apron, with two steaming bowls, so focused were you on cracking open your Gacha pods. Taking a deep breath, you undid the wrapper...and cheered, your arms flinging into the air.

"Your kisses really are lucky, Kento, gosh...well, one more, then, I--"

You had cracked open the final Gacha. A ring tumbled into your hand, and your brain short-circuited. You trembled, rolling it around in your palm. The two halves of the pod clattered to the floor, forgotten. Your vision swam, and you sniffled, and looked up.

Kento had dipped onto one knee before you, aproned and still, with two bowls of pasta In his hands. In the crucial moment, he seemed anxious. He cleared his throat, his voice thickening.

"I would...like to fund your habit for the rest of our lives. If you'll have me."

A laugh bubbled through your tears, and you wiped your cheeks, allowing Kento to slide the ring into place on your finger. You held his broad hand in serene silence, time standing still, before you spoke.

"...so this ring is just...just one in the collection, right? Wait-- no, Kento, COME BACK, PLEASE-- I'M JUST FUCKING WITH YOU--"

[eldonchances]

in case people are curious where this is from

i’ve not seen the interview this is from but i really enjoy these screencaps of noel seemingly having a breakdown over despacito

[voxslays]

FOUR ZERO SEVEN — THANOS

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, addiction, and angst. A/N: I hope you enjoy!

You were Thanos’ ex girlfriend. The once who had dumped him after months and months of trying to ‘fix’ his drug addiction. But it never worked—nothing ever really helped him. So you left. You thought by leaving, it might fix things—give him some air.

Little did you know at the time though—you were pregnant, with his child. You were actually already a few months along. How could you not have noticed sooner? You asked yourself angrily. Yet, you decided to keep the baby, vowing to create a good life for the child.

Your life went downhill from there. Working two to three shifts daily, never having time for yourself. You lived in a small two bedroom apartment you could barely afford as is. The walls seemed like they were closing in around you, until you found a man at a train station.

You played Ddakji with the man, and he gave you hope. Hope that your life could one day soon change for the better. Yet, when you surprisingly woke up in a bunk bed in a room with 455 others, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread.

After the first game, you finally understood that dread. It was fear. A fear that intensified as your ex walked up to you, likely high. He was wearing the same green and white striped tracksuit you were, but with the number 230 instead of your number 177.

“Señorita!” Thanos jests enthusiastically, pulling your smaller figure into his. “Long time no see, my girl.” He lets out a little ‘skrrr’ sound as he looks you up and down. “Su-bong.” You greet cautiously, instinctively rubbing your stomach.

Thanos watches your movements closely, then his eyes widen. He quickly pulls your jacket down to reveal your baby bump. He freezes then swallows hard. He slowly meets your eyes again. “How long?” He asks softly. Almost too softly. Almost like he was scared of the answer.

“Thanos, I-” Thanos interrupts you by pulling you into a tight hug. He buries his face into your hair and inhales your scent deeply. He holds you so tightly, like he was scared you’d disappear again. He speaks into your hair, his voice muffled. “It’s mine, isn’t it?

“Yes.” You whisper. He runs his hand softly over your baby bump, a strange mix of tenderness and fear in his eyes that he hasn't shown anyone before. The same hand that's pushed people to their deaths is now gently caressing your growing lower belly. "Fuck, why didn't you tell me?" His voice breaks slightly.

Thanos runs his hand softly over your baby bump, a strange mix of tenderness and fear in his eyes that he hasn't shown anyone before. The same hand that's killed and tortured is now gently caressing your growing belly. "Fuck, why didn't you tell me?" His voice breaks slightly.

His expression darkens as he steps back, running a frustrated hand through his hair. His chocolate eyes flick down to your bump again before meeting your gaze, accusation plain. "What, were you just gonna hide it from me forever? Keep my kid a secret?"

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t think you’d care!” You snap back, hormones raging. "You should have told me, princess." He says. “I’m sorry.” You sigh, beginning to turn away. He grabs your arm, stopping you from leaving. His grip is firm but not painful. He turns you back to face him, his expression softening a little.

"Don't fucking apologize for this." He gestures to your belly. "I'm not mad that you didn't tell me right away." Su-bong pauses. “Well do this together?” You ask hopefully. “Together.”

[kaiyunsim]

wildflower —

pairing : bf!woonhak x gn!reader

summary : you receive a text in the morning about a surprise date that woonhak planned, what really surprises you is that he brings you to a hidden patch of flowers

warnings : fluff, woonhak drives, woonhak is very clumsy but also so cute, wc : 2.2k

a/n : wrote this bc i ran into yung kai a while back :o his music is so beautiful omg. this was hiding in the drafts for a little too long

queueing : wildflower - yung kai, blue - yung kai, soft spot - keshi, i like u - niki, my heart it beats for you - grentperez

you wake up to a text from woonhak that just says: ‘dress cute? idk haha. also maybe bring snacks. :)’

you stare at the message, still half-asleep, but you smile a little. it’s very him. casual, chaotic, weirdly sweet. you throw on something comfortable, grab the snack bag you packed in case woonhak pulled something like this, and head downstairs just in time to see his car roll up.

he honks twice, then immediately looks like he regrets it. he’s sitting upright in the driver’s seat, both hands gripping the wheel like it’s an exam he didn’t study for. when you open the door, he stiffens for a second, then flashes a quick, slightly too big smile.

“hi,” he says, barely above a whisper, and looks straight ahead like someone seeing their middle school crush stare back at them.

he’s not messy, just… extremely deliberate. like he practiced how to say hi on the way over but still managed to mess it up. you slide into the seat beside him. he swallows.

“you good?” you ask, buckling in.

“yeah, yeah,” he says too fast. “just… excited. or something.”

you catch him glancing at you again as he pulls out of the driveway, and then again at the next stoplight. his face is already pink. it’s cute, but also charming.

five minutes into the drive, he says, “that color looks really nice on you,” then immediately adds, “i mean, the hoodie. your hoodie. i just like the... color. yeah.”

you blink at him, a slow smile spreading across your face. “you’re such a dork.”

he groans, thumping his forehead lightly against the wheel. “i’m trying, okay? flirting is not my strength.”

“it’s not,” you agree, laughing. “but it’s kinda cute.”

that earns you a quiet “shut up” under his breath, but he’s smiling, so you let it slide.

he fiddles with the AUX cord at the next red light, scrolling through his phone with exaggerated concentration. then, suddenly—

“welcome back to tire time. today we’re breaking down the anatomy of a V6 engine—”

“oh my god—” he groans as he fumbles so hard he almost drops the phone, groaning. “that was not supposed to— ugh— here.” he shoves the phone toward you like it’s on fire. “you pick. just… not car parts.”

you scroll and find his, ‘skrrr’ playlist, the one you both made together for long drives. songs with ‘windows down’ energy and ‘nothing too serious’ lyrics. the car fills with something familiar and warm, and you settle in.

“see?” you say. “this is already better.”

“you’re better,” he says before thinking, and then immediately makes a face like he wants to rewind time. “i didn’t mean like— wait. no. i did. but not— uh—”

you snort. “oh my god, again? you’re nervous at this point.”

“i’m not!” he insists, eyes glued to the road. “i just haven’t done… this before. the whole, like, surprise trip with someone i— uh... like. a lot.”

you glance over. he’s gripping the steering wheel like it might run away if he doesn’t.

“well, it’s cute and i appreciate it,” you say, softer now.

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for ten minutes. then he reaches into the bag wedged between the seats and pulls out your favorite snack, holding it out to you with both hands like it’s an offering.

“brought this for you,” he says. “well. for us. but mostly you.”

you take it, pretending to inspect it seriously. “hmm. this does improve the trip.”

“thank god,” he mutters, finally loosening up a little.

the drive stretches out into soft, golden morning light. the trees blur past, and the sky’s that barely-awake blue at around 6a.m. the music plays on low volume, and woonhak hums off-key to a song he only half-remembers.

you yawn, leaning against the window. you don’t mean to fall asleep, but the road feels endless, quiet, and safe.

when you start drifting off, woonhak sneaks a glance. just once. then again. he flushes, clears his throat, adjusts his grip on the wheel like it makes a difference. you shift slightly, and he stiffens, makes sure the road ahead is straight before reaching over to tug your seatbelt so it’s not caught under your arm. then he grips the wheel again, blinking hard to stay focused.

he doesn’t say it out loud, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth says everything:

he likes driving you places. he likes when you’re here, even when you’re not saying anything. maybe especially when you are’nt.

the car ride slows into silence as woonhak pulls off the road and onto a narrow dirt path, tires crunching under loose gravel. you glance around, rubbing your eyes, expecting a park or trail sign, but there’s nothing. just trees and grass and morning light folding softly through it all.

he parks beside a half-bent fence and turns off the engine. “we’re here,” he says, like it’s obvious.

you raise an eyebrow. “...where?”

he smiles, almost proud, then hops out and comes around to your side. “you’ll see.”

you follow him across the grass, slightly damp from dew. he walks ahead with an eager pace, too quick, like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind if he doesn’t keep momentum. and then, of course, he trips over a root.

“wah!” he stumbles, arms flailing a bit before he regains balance, cheeks turning red. “i meant to do that.”

“uh huh,” you say, trying not to laugh.

“it’s dramatic effect,” he mumbles, brushing off his jeans. “like, boom. nature.”

but when you step around him, you stop. just beyond the uneven patch of trees is an open field. quiet, wide, and warm. the grass is tall and the sun’s low, casting everything in a soft, golden glow. a small patch of wildflowers dots the center like nature forgot to organize them. yellow, white, pale purple, a few strays in between.

you turn to him. he’s already watching you, smiling like he can’t help it.

“i found it by accident,” he says. “kinda cool, right?”

“it’s beautiful,” you breathe.

you wander into the flower patch without waiting, letting your fingers skim lightly over petals. up close, they’re even messier than they looked from afar, overgrown and mismatched and somehow perfect anyway.

you crouch down to look at one that’s half purple, half white, and when you glance back over your shoulder, woonhak is still watching. but not the flowers, you.

his expression is unreadable, not intense or overwhelming. just… soft. quiet. like he’s soaking the moment in and doesn’t want to disturb it.

you smile. “you’re not looking at the flowers.”

he blinks, caught. “what? i am. i totally am.”

you plop down in the grass, settling into a spot that feels just right. he follows, pulling the snack bag between you and popping something into his mouth immediately. he chews too loudly on purpose. “this is peak dating. snacks and pollen.”

you snort, tossing a gummy at him. it bounces off his hoodie. “you’re so dumb.”

“and yet, you’re here.”

funny conversations spark while you chat with him. he points out a bird that probably isn’t even rare, and you argue over whether a flower looks more like a cloud or a fried egg.

the breeze is gentle, enough to make the wildflowers sway in slow waves.

after a while, you pull out your phone. “take a photo of me?”

he perks up. “yeah, yeah! wait, let me make it look cool.”

you pose, half-silly, half-serious, and he crouches awkwardly to get a better angle. “okay… one, two— wait. your hair’s doing that thing. okay, three.”

the shutter clicks, and when you look over, woonhak is staring at the photo on his screen like he just uncovered treasure.

“what?” you ask.

he opens his mouth, then closes it again. then stares at the phone some more.

you crawl over to peek, and he tilts the screen. it’s a little blurry, but the lighting’s beautiful, your face lit up, eyes half-squinting from the sun. it’s candid and warm and very you.

he’s still looking at it when you say, “airdrop that to me.”

“right, yeah— totally... i was gonna— yeah.” he fumbles with the screen, accidentally turning on airplane mode before groaning and trying again.

you laugh. “you okay?”

“i just—” he rubs the back of his neck. “i’ve never had a photo of someone like that on my phone before. it’s like. really good. like too good. i don’t know what to do with it.”

you shrug. “just a picture.”

he hesitates, then glances toward the flowers, voice a little quieter. “you remind me of one of them.”

you look at him. “which one?”

he gestures vaguely toward the patch, no clear direction. “i dunno. just… one of them.”

you tilt your head, smiling. “what does that mean?”

he shakes his head, face pink. “nothing. just. you’ll get it eventually, maybe.”

you don’t, not yet at least. you just think it’s a sweet place he picked, a pretty field you’ll remember later.

he doesn’t say anything more. he just looks at you like whatever he meant is obvious. and maybe it is.

the drive home is quieter than the drive there.

no music, just the low hum of the engine and woonhak’s foot tapping nervously on the brake pedal every time the car idles. he’s staring straight ahead, chewing on his bottom lip like it’s a problem he can solve.

you peek at him as he finished parking by your house. “you okay?”

he clears his throat. “yeah. just. uh…” he swallows, then turns off the engine but doesn’t move. “…about the flower thing.”

you smile, soft and patient. “yeah?”

he glances over, then immediately looks back at the dashboard. “i— i saw this little white bloom when i came here last week. just one. it was growing kinda sideways. didn’t even know what it was called, but it caught my eye.”

you stay quiet, letting him take his time.

“i don’t know. the rest of the patch was, like, all colorful and big and… perfect,” he says, hands gesturing vaguely, “but that one wasn’t trying to stand out. it just… did. kinda like you do.”

your heart feels like it’s giving a small, surprised squeeze.

he sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “ugh, that sounded dumb.”

you reach for his hand across the console. he hesitates a beat, then lets your fingers lace with his. his hand is warm and slightly clammy, but he squeezes yours gently, like it grounds him.

“also,” he adds quickly, voice picking up speed, “i— uh— i checked with jaehyun hyung if this was, like, a good idea.”

you raise your eyebrows, amused. “you what?”

“he said flowers were cliché and kind of obvious, but that you’d probably like it anyway.” he groans. “he made fun of me. a lot.”

you laugh, not letting go of his hand. “he’s right about the cliché part.”

his face falls just a little.

“but i love it,” you say, and his eyes snap to yours.

relief hits him like a wave. his shoulders drop, mouth opening a little like he wants to say something and doesn’t know how to word it. instead, he leans back toward the rear seat, awkwardly reaching around, bumping his elbow in the process.

“wait, i forgot— i have one more thing.”

you watch as he pulls out a crumpled paper bag, opens it slowly, and reveals a small, slightly uneven bouquet. wildflowers again, some of them a bit messy from the day, others still bright and clashing in the best way.

“i made this. well, my hyungs helped,” he says, shyly. “we were guessing what you’d like. i picked the little ones. sungho hyung said the purple ones looked good. i dunno what any of them are called, but i liked how they looked together.”

you stare at the bouquet, something warm blooming in your chest.

“woonhak.”

he fidgets. “you don’t have to keep them or anything. i just thought… i don’t know. maybe they’d remind you of today.”

you hold them carefully, as if they might fall apart if you grip too hard. “you are— actually insane.”

his eyes go wide. “what? why?”

“insanely cute,” you say.

he opens his mouth to protest, but it fades into a sheepish smile. “oh. okay. that one’s allowed.”

you lean over, resting your head briefly against his shoulder. he freezes, then relaxes, letting your closeness settle.

no big declarations. no dramatic kiss in the dark. just his hand still holding yours, your fingers tracing the edge of the bouquet like you’re memorizing it.

after a while, you unbuckle your seatbelt, open the door. “walk me to the porch?”

“sure,” he says, voice small but appreciative.

you step out, flowers in hand. he walks beside you all the way to the steps, then stops.

you wave. “thanks for today.”

“you liked it?” he asks, not hiding the hope in his voice.

“i’ll remember it forever,” you say. and you mean it.

you step inside. woonhak waits by the curb, watching until the porch light clicks off. only then does he get back in the car, gripping the wheel with both hands, exhaling a long, quiet breath.

his phone buzzes in the cupholder. he taps it open. it’s that photo, the one he took earlier, sun catching your face, your expression half-squinting, half-glowing.

except now, it's in your shared album titled, "wildflower date ⛄🌼". he smiles at it for a long time.

and of course, you do too.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

tysm for reading :>

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz @the0p @mon2sunjinsuver @solkver @lov3lyaaru @tanghuyuj

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

[vlkodlac]

SKRRR!

wake up, babes, Thanos' comeback album just dropped

[olderthannetfic]

I know many people get anxious about mutuals getting annoyed when they post about their new interests but I actually feel such childish glee when I imagine it!

Hello 50 people who followed me because I write long deep meta about characters from a series of super complex highbrow political-intrigue-centric novels, I'm into kpop now! Enjoy these 20 gifs of a jacked Korean guy shouting SKRR! SKRRR! at the camera ❤️

My interests are varied and by god I'm gonna make y'all suffer through them with me

--

[heremob]

Pomni redesign skrrr

[storkmuffin]

Multiple flavors of San of Ateez!

1. Baby hip hop warrior San!

2. Beauty with Forehead Covered.

3. Ice Cold Beauty with His Hair Combed Back

4. Hip Geek Chic

5. Clean cut sophisticate.

6. Skrrr sunnies

7. Kitty is laughing because it's the final show.

I am in a tizzy because I feel like San could possibly actually go supernova in Korea. The girlies are saying such things!! The Elle Korea March 2025 solo fashion spread had this as the caption:

말갛고 자유로운 소년과

단단한 남자의 얼굴이 공존하는

산과 함께한 어느 멋진 오후

A fabulous afternoon spent with San,

possessor of a face that blends a limpid carefree boy

and a robust man.

And they had him crawl on the floor. Which -

[7sedm]

[jayfeathersstick]

Just clocked the fact that han saying skrrr all the time in that one skz code episode was probably a spoiler for hyunjin's line in walkin on water bc its right before his 😭

[tomorrowxtogether]

230814 Yeonjun's Tweet

&HBD 고추냉이 스껄~ 데뷔 전 사진 귀여웠다ㅋㅋㅋ ❤️

[TRANS]

&HBD gochunengie skrrr~

Your pictures from pre debut are really cute kekeke❤️

[wolfchans]

I guess skrrr is the new that's very noice

[0omillo0]

Skrrr

SKRRRR

[neocatharsis]

231118 TAEYONG Weverse Update

"2nd day, skrrr"

Translated by SM_NCT

[blackr23]

250325

[SKZ-BEHIND📸]

A Skrrr day shot by Hani running🏃💫

#StrayKids #스트레이키즈

#스키즈코드 #SKZCODE

#달려라한이

#GoHAN

#StrayKids7thAnniversary🍀

#YouMakeStrayKidsStay