Hi♡ welcome to my blog's masterlist, all the links to my works are listed here. A couple of things first:
This is 100% to be considered fiction, and is not meant to be disrespectful nor represent real life, so don't take it seriously
This page is recommended for people who are 18+, minors DNI
No schedules for posting, this is just for fun :)
My inbox is open for ideas sharing/feedback, and some requests. More info here!
My works are only posted on here, if you see them on any other platform or translated in any other language, I did not give my permission. Do not repost.
Likes, reblogs and overall feedback are very much appreciated ♡
♡ - silentcryracha 소
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
OT8 ‗ ❍
Sharing a flight with Skz
Taking care of you during your period (Hyung Line)
Taking care of you during your period (Maknae Line)
i was trying to live life after work when a thought came to mind.
channie humping the bed while eating out you 🫣 i actually need this to happen to me now
- 🦝
i’ve seen this going around twt too lol, good to know we all agree he would ! chan loves to give you pleasure in any way he can. it’s one thing he’s really confident about too… he might play it off as humbly as he plays off everything else, but he knows he’s good for you. he looooves pussy, loves to eat you out and have his hair tugged on and his face fucked, n he’s definitely a little a lot clit obsessed too :)) seeing you so blissed out makes him crazy… if he’s wearing boxers or sweats, he’s soaked them with his precum. so yeah, of course he grinds against the bed. he could get off that way, especially when he sees how frantic it gets you just watching him, but it works him up even more to edge himself like that before he finally fucks you… after he makes you cum on his tongue once or twice <3
the last thing I'll say about this ai thing is that if you really don't understand the problem with writers letting machines write fic without disclosing it then I don't know what to tell you. I know it's uncomfortable, to have to face the fact that you've been fooled. it's embarrassing to have been caught liking something fake. but the answer to that is not to double down.
believe it or not, I'm not against AI, I think there are so many good applications for it - but to write stories and fanfiction, something that has always been a pure labour of love? that is not one of them
ignoring the glaring red flag that these people are straight up LYING to you and taking your praise and admiration (and sometimes even money, as we've seen) for something they didn't do, which I think is despicable -
art is inherently human. writing is art. to just allow machines to make art and not bat an eye is dystopian. it's a slippery slope exactly where capitalists want you to go. because the only art machines will ever make is the clean variety. the one that doesn't threaten anyone's worldview, doesn't add anything new. clean, palatable art - that can be infused with whatever values are convenient right now.
do you see what I mean?
it's going to desensitize you. it's going to make you get used to the hyper-clean style until a creation by a human is going to make you feel weird because it doesn't fit. and this, very often, can be easily manipulated into you starting to believe that that makes the stuff that makes you uncomfy WRONG. morally. you may think that's not true but, trust me, we've been seeing it on a grand scale with the move to puritanism by young people.
if, deep down, you know you like ai fic because it comes out at unprecedented rates I need you to know that it's because it fits your consumption pattern that has been carefully trained into you by tech companies for decades. this, in itself, is a problem. you've been manipulated.
if you can't see the value in something human-made for the simple fact that it's made by a human. if you can't see the value of spending hours on something because your heart tells you to? yes, even if it's smutty fanfic? I'm genuinely asking you to think again.
if you want someone to talk to, if you're in doubt or just don't know what to believe or what to feel - my ask box is open. as long as you're not rude about it, I will respond to you and we can have a conversation
I promise you, I will not judge you. I understand that it's a difficult thing to navigate.
Summary: Felix crashes during a concert — but luckily, there’s a pretty Hyunjin stan nearby to help him release all that pent-up energy.
Warnings: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU’RE A MINOR. Includes Felix bending reader over and fucking her raw.
A/N: See how she didn’t freak out over seeing Felix or disrespect his privacy? And got his D as a reward? Very sweet, very calm fan behavior. ♡
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───
“FUCK.”
The word exploded out of Felix like a bullet, reverberating through the dim alleyway as his boot connected with the dented trash can, sending it crashing against the brick wall. The hollow clang echoed into the emptiness, sharp and ugly. His chest heaved.
His hands found his hips, jaw clenched so tight he could feel the pressure in his temples. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, and he tore a hand through his perfectly styled blond hair, messing it up without care. The stadium roared in the background — a tidal wave of cheering fans, lights flashing, cameras everywhere. But here? It was quiet. Secluded. Hidden.
And still not far enough.
He hated it. The constant eyes. The pretending. The fucking choreography corrections at the last second. The media training. The handlers. The no-time-to-breathe life that chewed you up if you didn’t smile on command. Chan was probably looking for him by now, probably telling someone to stall the encore. But Felix couldn’t go back out there. Not yet.
His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms.
Then — a door creaked open behind him. Footsteps paused.
Felix turned his head slowly, his whole body humming with fury — only to freeze.
A girl stood in the doorway, bathed in the orange glow of the alley’s security light. She looked like trouble in the best way. Short denim skirt clinging to her hips like it was made to be peeled off. Platform boots that made her legs look endless. An oversized Stray Kids jersey stretched over her chest, the number 8 in bold white, and beside it… a fucking Hyunjin ferret print. Seriously?
His eyes traveled up to her face — flushed from running, lips parted, glossed. She blinked, like she hadn’t expected to stumble into anyone, let alone a pissed-off idol.
“Sorry,” she said softly, voice breathy, like she’d just run from somewhere. Or maybe like she liked what she saw.
Felix exhaled through his nose, shoulders still tense.
“You’re good…” he muttered, voice low and raspy.
“I… I was looking for the toilets,” she added quickly, eyes flicking to the dented trash can and back to him. “Wrong door?”
Felix’s lips curved — not in amusement. Something darker.
“Wrong door, sweetie,” he said, drawl thick with something dangerous. “Go down the hall. Left.”
But she didn’t move. Not right away. Her eyes lingered on him, curious. Her stare flicked over the way his chest rose and fell under his stage tank, his jaw tight with frustration, the disheveled hair, the red Jacket. Like she saw the chaos in him — and didn’t want to look away.
And maybe that made him even angrier.
She tilted her head, lips quirking as her eyes raked over him — his flushed skin, his heaving chest, the sweat at his temples.
“Shouldn’t you be on stage?”
Felix’s tongue slid across his lower lip as he gave a slow, deliberate nod. His gaze didn’t leave hers.
“Shouldn’t you be sitting in the crowd?”
She smirked. “I’m standing, actually.”
“Didn’t see you there.”
“A lot of fangirls in front of me, I guess.”
Felix let out a breath of something close to a laugh, but it was low, strained, like he was barely holding something in. His eyes dropped for a second, then came back up — slow and hungry.
“Well, a pretty face like yours seems hard to overlook.”
That made her smile, just a little. She shifted her weight casually, the movement making her denim skirt ride just a little higher on one thigh. Felix noticed. His jaw flexed.
“You good?” she asked, watching him more carefully now. “You seem… wired.”
His voice was quiet when it came.
“You ever feel like you’re gonna lose it if one more person tells you what to do?”
She blinked, unsure if it was rhetorical. But Felix didn’t wait for an answer. He stepped closer, slow and predatory, until the heat from his body washed over her.
“I can’t go back out there like this,” he murmured, voice low, almost a growl. “I’m so fucking pent up I could break something.”
He looked her over — from the curve of her waist to the sliver of thigh beneath that skirt — and then locked eyes again.
“Unless you wanna help me burn it off.”
Her lips parted slightly. “…Excuse me?”
“I’m serious,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “Right here. Right now. I need it.”
She could’ve sworn no one had ever made her feel this dizzy, this dangerously turned on — not with just a few fucking words. Her fingers tightened around the door handle like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
“How…” she started, but her voice cracked, breath catching.
Felix didn’t answer with words. Instead, his palm drifted down, slow and deliberate, brushing over the outline of his cock through his pants. His jaw clenched. Eyes fixed on her like she was prey.
Her stomach flipped.
That casual touch alone sent a shockwave between her legs.
His stage outfit clung to him in all the right ways, damp at the collarbones with sweat. God, he looked like sin.
Her breath came quicker. Was she really about to do this?
Getting fucked by Felix. Raw. In his stage outfit. With his voice still raspy from yelling, and that pent-up anger simmering under every move.
She didn’t say a word. Just let the door click shut behind her and stepped fully inside the alley, her heels echoing slightly against the cement.
One step. Two.
His gaze dropped to her legs as she slowly made her way down the stairs, the skirt shifting again, teasing more skin. His tongue darted out over his lip — brief, but loaded.
She stopped in front of him, barely a breath of space between them.
He grabbed her waist in one swift motion, pulling her against him like he couldn’t wait another second. The force of it made her gasp softly — his hands were rough, urgent, but still careful, like he didn’t want to break her. Not unless she asked him to.
Felix bent down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke — low, dark, breath hot.
“Are you a virgin?”
His voice was so soft it was almost reverent — but laced with hunger, a growl beneath it.
She swallowed, heart pounding wildly against her ribs. “No,” she whispered, already breathless.
“Good.” His hands slid down to her ass, gripping hard enough to make her knees go weak. His voice dropped another octave, filthy.
“Then you can take what I’m about to give you.”
Before she could react, he moved — spinning her around.
He bend her forward over the edge of the nearby trash can. It was dented, cold against her thighs, but none of it mattered. Not when Felix shoved her down with one palm between her shoulder blades, the other hand yanking her skirt up over her ass with no ceremony.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered behind her, the sound guttural. “You came out here dressed like this? Skirt riding up, platform boots, no clue what that does to me?”
Her panties were soaked through — and he let his fingertips trail lightly across the damp fabric. Teasing. Just enough to make her hips twitch backward toward him.
“Oh, fuck me,” he exhaled sharply. “You’re dripping through this. You wanted someone to ruin you tonight, huh?”
She whined, humiliated and turned on and breathless.
He hooked a finger around the side of her panties and pulled them aside roughly, exposing her soaked folds to the cool alley air — and to him. He didn’t touch. Not yet. Just stared.
“Look at this pretty little pussy,” he growled. “So wet for me already. All this from a few words?”
He slid two fingers through her slit, slow and deep — spreading her slick, watching it catch the light.
“Fucking slippery,” he groaned. “You don’t need prep. You’re begging for cock.”
“Felix,” she gasped, arching back against his hand, “please…”
“You want it raw?” he asked, voice dark, unfiltered, panting. His hand palmed her ass hard, gripping her like it was his. “You want me to fuck you bare in this alley where anyone could walk out that door and see you bent over for me?”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, please—”
That was all he needed.
She heard the hiss of his zipper, the clink of his belt falling open. Then the hot, heavy weight of his cock sliding against her folds — thick, pulsing, leaking.
“Fuck,” he hissed, grinding the head of it up and down her entrance, spreading her slick. “Gonna feel every inch of me, baby. I’m gonna split you open on this cock until you forget your fucking name.”
And then — he slammed into her in one brutal thrust.
She cried out, loud, but the sound was swallowed by the alley as Felix buried himself to the hilt. The stretch was obscene, brutal, but her body welcomed him like it was made for this. He didn’t give her time to adjust — he was too far gone. He drew back and slammed in again, harder.
His grip on her hips was bruising now. His thrusts came fast, filthy, brutal — skin slapping, breath ragged.
“Fucking tight,” he grunted. “You feel that? How deep I am?”
She could only moan in response, hands gripping the trash can’s edge like her life depended on it.
“Take it,” he growled, slamming in again, harder, deeper. “Take every inch. Just like a good little slut.”
The sound of their bodies echoed in the alley — slick, wet, raw. Her moans, his curses, the sharp rhythm of his hips.
And he wasn’t slowing down.
“Tell me something,” Felix growled against the back of her neck, hips still snapping into her with ruthless, desperate rhythm. “Is Hyunjin still your bias?”
Her head jerked up in shock — but she couldn’t speak. Not with his cock grinding against that spot that made her toes curl, not with her brain short-circuiting from overstimulation.
“Hmm?” He slapped her ass, hard, making her gasp. “You wear his Pin. You swoon over him online. But who’s got you bent over a fucking trash can right now?”
She whimpered, fingers slipping as she gripped the metal edge tighter. “Y-You…”
“That’s right. Me.” His voice was low, primal, broken. “You think Hyunjin would fuck you like this? Watch you take it raw with your skirt up and your panties pushed to the side like a cheap slut?”
A sob tore from her throat — high-pitched, aching — and he fucked her harder.
“You think he’d be proud?” he growled. “Proud that his little fan’s out here getting bred by me in a back alley like a dirty little secret?”
“Felix—!”
“You gonna forget about him now?” He leaned over her, one hand wrapping around her throat from behind — not squeezing, just holding, grounding her while he pounded into her mercilessly. “Forget that bias shit. You’re mine now.”
She cried out, hips bucking, tears in her lashes. “I’m yours—I’m yours—I’m—”
“Fuck, I’m close.” He bit her shoulder through the fabric. “Gonna fill you up. You want that? You want my cum leaking out of you while you go back into that stadium full of people?”
“Yes, please, do it—”
The sound of a door slamming open in the distance cut through the haze — the heavy metal creak of it echoed down the alley. It was the Door outside next to their dressing room. He knew exactly who it was.
Footsteps. Fast.
Felix didn’t stop.
He snarled under his breath, his grip on her tightening as he slammed into her one last time — deep, hard, brutal — and came inside her with a guttural moan, spilling deep and raw.
Her entire body shook, held up only by his grip and the dented trash can beneath her. She gasped, eyes wide and dazed, still pulsing around him as he stayed buried inside.
Then—
“Felix!”
Chan’s voice rang out.
Fuck.
Felix turned his head just as Bang Chan rounded the corner into the alley. His chest was heaving, clearly pissed, clearly searching — and then he saw her.
Still bent over. Skirt pushed up. Felix’s hands on her hips. His cock still inside her.
Time stopped.
Chan’s mouth parted slightly, jaw tense, face unreadable.
She turned her face away, flushed and trembling, but Chan’s eyes were locked on Felix.
Not a word was said.
Not yet.
Chan’s jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. He stared at Felix like he didn’t know whether to drag him off her or kill him on the spot.
Felix exhaled shakily, his hands sliding slowly off her hips as he pulled out — cum already starting to drip down her inner thigh.
Chan’s voice was low. Controlled. Deadly.
“You fucked a fan?”
Felix didn’t answer.
He couldn’t.
Chan turned on his Heel.
“You have five fucking minutes,” he bit out, voice tight. “Clean yourself up. Get to the stylist. They’re stalling for you already.”
Chan didn’t even look at her. Didn’t even flinch.
He stared at the opposite wall, jaw clenched so hard it looked painful, giving her whatever privacy he could. Because he was furious — but he wasn’t cruel.
“I’ll tell them you threw up. Don’t make me a liar,” he muttered, and without waiting for an answer, he stormed off — the metal door slamming behind him with finality.
The silence he left behind was heavy.
Felix exhaled. Shaky. Spent. Still panting a little as he tucked himself away and straightened up. Then he looked at her — still bent slightly forward, thighs shaking, hair messy, shame crawling hot across her cheeks.
“Hey,” he said softly.
She didn’t look at him.
But he stepped closer, pulled something small from his pocket — a little pin, yellow and smiling.
Bbokari.
He reached over and, without a word, unclipped the Hyunjin ferret button from her jersey. Replaced it with the bbokari pin.
“There,” he murmured. “That’s better.”
She blinked up at him, wide-eyed, dazed, lips parted like she still couldn’t believe what had just happened.
“You good?” he asked gently, crouching just a bit to meet her gaze. His voice was low again, but this time soft. Tender. “Need help walking?”
She nodded, helpless.
He slipped an arm around her waist and helped her stand, his touch careful now — like she was glass. Her legs were trembling, and the moment she tried to step, she stumbled again. He caught her easily, chuckling under his breath.
“I really did a number on you, huh?” he teased quietly.
She gave him a look, and he smiled — wide and boyish, like he hadn’t just ruined her life and wrecked her body against a trash can.
As they reached the hallway again, he paused by a small metal table near the staff entrance. Snagged a tiny scrap of paper from a clipboard and scribbled something on it with the pen tied to the cord.
He handed it to her before she could ask.
His number.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, cocking his head and flashing that sweet, impossible smile.
She stared at the paper. Then back at him.
He winked.
And just like that, Felix walked away — heading toward the main corridor, where the muffled roar of the crowd still echoed beyond the walls.
She stood there frozen, fingers gripping the note, jersey crooked, thighs sticky, literal cum dripping out of her in her Panties — and her heart thudding like the bass drop to her favorite track.
Hyunjin might have been her bias.
But Felix just made sure he’d be her problem for a very, very long time.
