"Just look at me," PT 1
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
>♡ poly!danceracha x 9thmember!femreader, this one is mainly felix x fem!reader
>♡ genre: smut
sypnosis : you were supposed to be part of a new girlgroup under jype— at least, that's what was promised to you. to your dismay, you end up as a new member in an already forged group consisting of 8 men.
warnings: angst (if you squint. reader has doubts), fluff, hints of already established polyamorous relationship, boyxboy content (not much in here. hints of it tho), grossly downbad felix, felix fucks like he's in love and desperate, switch!felix (like subby dom? if that makes sense lol), oral (f receiving), tons shit of kissing, saliva, whiny felix, he whimpers btw, p in v, unprotected sex (don't do that), porn with plot, slow-burn
word count: 7.79k
note: i might turn this into a mini series, maybe 3racha or vocalracha next? also this is around recent eras. They just brought Taste back for a performance.
"Your position is all wrong, loosen up a bit," Hyunjin says from behind, his breath ghosting over your shoulder as he gently pushes your arms above your head. You sneak in a breath; finding it hard to concentrate when he's standing so close.
"All right," you reply, trying to follow where his hands are guiding you, catching both of your reflections in the mirror while doing so. His gaze meets yours briefly before moving down to where your skins touch. "There you go." he hums in approval, "Wasn't hard now, was it?" his eyes focus back on you, the moment feeling a tad too intimate for your liking.
It has been a few weeks since you became part of Stray Kids, and your first performance is upcoming. A few scandals arose from the decision to put a woman in a boy group— people disagreed, and so did you. But what choice were you given when you had already signed the contract unknowingly to some saccharine promise of making it to the next big hit in kpop? If only you had known. Now, you're stuck with having to prove yourself to the public, otherwise, it'll be over for your career.
Hyunjin has been tutoring your dance sessions lately. Sometimes, he would alternate with Minho or Felix. Felix was easy to talk to, but he would get shy at times, which resulted in you feeling the same. Minho was hardest to come by due to his packed schedule, therefore your conversations were rather awkward, making the interactions more difficult than they should have been. Hyunjin really was your last hope. You could tell he was a smooth teacher. Though, you don't know if that was for the better or the worse since the more you spent with him, the more a spark of attraction ignites within you.
You snap away from your gnawing thoughts when he backs away from you, strolling to the other side of the room to sit on the floor. "Go on, show me what you've learned so far." He requests, turning the music back on with a remote as he gestures for you to start.
You nod, closing your eyes to feel the music, and mainly to try to ignore the intensity of his stare as he observes your every movement. You weren't used to the public yet except for the other girls you were a trainee with for the past few years. Every time you danced around him or the other members, it felt awkward and you cursed yourself for it.
Your eyes blink open when the music suddenly stops, confused you turn to look at him. Maybe you expect disappointment, but he has a small smile plastered on his face as if he is considering something.
"You're good, just nervous. Come here," he pats the area next to him, urging you to sit down.
Reluctantly, you shift towards him and crouch down to where he's seated. "You know, you don't have to be so on the edge. Do I make you nervous, yn?" He asks, tilting his head so that you would look at him, not at the script written on the water bottle before you. You turn away, eye contact was the last thing you wanted right now. Especially not when you feel the press of his thigh heavy against yours. You scout away but it only prompts him to get closer.
"How am I supposed to help if you won't speak? Maybe I should talk to Chan about this matter... I don't think you're ready yet—" He goes on and to his surprise, you immediately turn to look at him with a hint of sudden agitation. "No—!" You worked so hard for this, you can't let go of this opportunity just because of your embarrassment. Get a grip, yn.
"I'm sorry. You don't make me nervous," you try to convince, even though it's a lie. Anybody with a pair of eyes can tell how stiff you are at the moment.
He nods at that, "Then... I was thinking. Would you like want a part in Taste?" He asks, taking in your surprise at the proposition. "I told you, you're good. We have a few weeks left, we can still work on your nerves." There's a slight undertone to his words, hinting that he did not buy your confirmation of comfort earlier. You hesitate. It's a good opportunity to showcase your skills, but performing amongst danceracha as a debut would mean giving it your all.
He seems to take in your doubts being written all over your face. Ever since you got in, you've been acting like a frightened animal that it almost makes him pity you. He understands why. The group has also been anxious about what was going to happen next with the company's impulsive decision. Clearly, you were the one taking the most damage from it, with all the expectations put upon you.
His hand reaches to your face, stopping a few inches from your cheek as if he were wondering what he was doing. He goes for your shoulder instead, his palm warm even through the fabric of your shirt. Your breath halts for a second, gaze meeting his own. "You'll do good, I promise. Minho hyung and Yongbok are also there for you. It's all up to you."
He gets up, his touch leaving you, and yet it was as if you could still feel it. "I'll see you later." He finally says, going through the door; leaving you alone in the practice room to stare at your own reflection suddenly empty of his body warmth.
This was going to be a long week.
“I'm dead,” you mumble to yourself in heavy pants, plopping yourself down on the floor to grab your phone to check the time. 10 27pm. It has officially been hours since you've entered the practice room. Hyunjin was busy today, he quickly apologised this morning after dropping you off. Deciding to handle things yourself instead of seeking constant guidance from the others, you might've ended up overworking yourself. Everywhere's aching, “Feels like I'm burning in the pits of hell,” you complain, setting your phone down to lay on the floor, appreciating how cold it was in contrast to your sweaty and sticky skin.
Perhaps it was the music still playing loudly in the background, or how the tiredness resulted in your senses dulling that you could not hear the door opening and closing, nor the footsteps approaching you until you're met with a familiar face from above. Minho.
“Working hard?” He asks, eyeing you in a way that you couldn't deduce if it was observant or sarcasm.
You jump upright, feeling like you were caught lazing around despite the proof towards the opposite running through your sore limbs. “Yes!” you reply, cringing at how forced that sounded, hurrying to stand up on your feet out of respect with him being a few years older.
Minho was the one you avoided the most, not that he was cold or anything of that sort. It's just that he wasn't the easiest to read and that made him intimidating. To you atleast. Being caught in this moment of vulnerability by him especially made the idea of first few impressions worsen.
He notices how your movements are floppy as you stand up. “Hm, thought so. Hyunjin said that he wasn't around today, and you were nowhere to be found elsewhere.” he says, insinuating that he's been looking for you. You gasp in surprise when he suddenly reaches for your arms, feeling the tense muscles in his grip. He was gentle but firm, all of this too hast for you to properly react. “Don't you think that you force movements on your muscles way too much?”
You blink at that, confused. “Huh?”
“You're rigid. Forcing yourself rather than following the flow.” He sighs, grabbing the remote to start the soundtrack all over again.
“Wanna go again? This time follow my moves,” he asks. You nod, despite the soreness of it all, his proposition excites you enough to bring back some of your energy.
He is indeed smooth. His movements flow naturally, clearly toning it down for you to follow within your limit, and yet it still looks effortless on his part. You follow the rhythm with him, and truthfully it hurts way less than before. His instructions are clear and easy to follow, to the point that you felt silly for avoiding him for so long.
“You improve quickly,” He finally says as the music stops. “But,” he trails off, reaching for you and maneuvering your position so that you are facing him directly, body inches away, “For this part, it goes like this.” He says, holding your shoulders down till your knees meet the floor. The position is inappropriate, your face meeting his bottom half. You stare at him wide-eyed, only receiving nonchalance on his end. “Lay down, just like that.” He instructs, gently pushing your shoulders till you're laid half the way down on the floor. One elbow supports you while he urges you to rest the other on your hip. His eyes never leave your figure, taking in every detail of your stance, making your heartbeat quicken. You gulp. Staring at the bright light on the ceiling, anywhere that wasn't him.
“Hey, focus.” He snaps his fingers, using his other hand to rewind the chorus. “Here, you need to thrust up. Are you okay with that?” He asks. You know what part of the song it is, you had been practicing it all over all day. But not in front of someone yet… and you sure weren't expecting Minho to be the first one.
Your embarrassment was evident, squeezing your eyes shut to try to shake it away. “Sure…” you reply. He hums and presses play. You take a deep breath, calming your nerves and follow the beat.
For a first try, it ends up being clumsy, your discomfort speaking volumes above the soundtrack. He sighs, and your heart drops at the possible disappointment he could feel at the moment. You could tell he was being patient, just like the others since you randomly barged into their space. You were grateful for that, but it gave you pressure in regards to their expectations.
“Your expression is too shy, your movements aren't stable.” He crouches down to you, pressing a hand to your stomach. You freeze. “Breathe in,” he requests and you don't even know if that's possible right now. “Yn, breathe. All the way.”
You obey to your own surprise.
“Now out. Slowly.” He watches as you let out the shakiest breath you've been holding, your shoulders slouching and stomach relaxing. “Good girl. You've got it,” he says, his fingers moving to your sides briefly and if you were crazy you'd think he just felt you up. He smiles, standing up, watching you from above.
“Don't view it as sexual, dancing is an art. Just trust your body. Stage presence is one too, you can't show a clumsy expression to the public. Show me your confidence, yn.” He says, your name leaving his mouth in almost a hushed tone as he gestures for you to start again.
Somehow, his words calm you down a token, letting the advice sink in. You would be lying if you said that you didn't know what he meant, considering you watched the live performance a thousand times by now. The next few tries were better than the last. You still have some progress to make, but it's undeniably more respectable.
You both don't notice the time going by until the next thing you know is that it's already midnight.
You were weak to the bone, the fatigue catching up to you once again as he packs up your phone and water bottle for you.
“You good?” He asks, looking at you from where your bag is rested, he picks it up; setting in your belongings.
“If your idea of good is being cramped all over then yes.” You reply in sarcasm, the atmosphere between you two easing by now.
He smirks, finding your response amusing next to your shy demeanor two hours ago. “Let's go, it's already late.”
The ride back to your dorm is quiet except for the soft rumbling of the car engine. You're thankful he came, preferring this over walking back in the middle of the night. Sometimes, you'd feel his eyes on you from the rearview mirror only to shift to the road the moment you look back. Maybe you're hallucinating it, because every hint of eye contact feels more intense than it should've been. It almost felt as if he was trying to decipher each and every thought running in your head.
The following day is when you actually feel the aftermath of overworking yourself.
You groan, even moving the tiniest inch hurts. Bringing the blanket over your head to muffle the sound of your growing alarm. You turned off about three alarms already, it's like they are never ending. Your fault.
Finally, you decide to let go, mostly because of your rumbling stomach. You don't think you had dinner last night, it had been long forgotten when all you could dream about was improving.
Shuffling off your bed, you make your way down to the kitchen half groggy. Your eyes barely open when you register the smell of something sweet, perhaps biscuits?
You hear him before you see him, a little ‘Ah–!’ escaping from him as he registers your presence walking down the hallway. “Yn! You're awake,” Felix says from the kitchen island; gloves holding a tray of freshly baked treats, his voice a pitch higher than usual–– soft and airy at the sight of you. You knacker your way towards him, pulling a chair before plopping down on it. “Morning, Felix.”
You were assigned a dorm with Felix and Seungmin. Seungmin is currently overseas for the week to attend an event. Honestly grateful for that, you couldn't really tell if he liked you or not at all.
“You seem exhausted. Slept well?” He asks, tilting his head at your disheveled state. “You're not being too harsh on yourself, are you now?” Worry radiates off him, he's so sweet all the time, it makes you feel guilty for not being able to match his energy at the moment.
“I'm fine. Thank you for asking,” you return in a lazy mumble, nestling your head against the palm of your hand. “Are those cookies?”
His eyebrows shoot up at your question, as if he himself had forgotten about the tray he just set down. “Oh! Oh yes. I actually made those for err…” He trails off, seeming to shy off just a little.
You eye him up, arching a brow curiously; more awake now, “For?”
“Hyung told me about your hard work, and I've been wanting to give you a welcoming gift for making it to the group. So this is some sort of celebration-cookies?” He explains, a sheepish smile on his face. “Congrats, yn. I'm sure everything you do will pay off!”
You almost tear up at that. His kindness is out of this world, warming up your heart and soothing the ache of your worries. “Thank you, Lix,” you reply, voice wavering. You don't mean to get sentimental over something so trivial, but the stress has been catching up lately. “It means alot—”
“Are you crying? Don't– Oh my. Did I—?!” Felix panics as he sees tears swelling from your eyes but you dismiss his concern with a wave of your hand, using the other to hide your flushed expression and glossy eyes.
“It's okay! Don't worry about it. Just kind of overwhelmed.” You reply, shaking your head and the tears away with a deep inhale. His expression softens at that, as if it was even more possible. He reaches for a tissue, helping you dry your face, holding you oh so tenderly.
“Do you want to take a day off?” He asks, bringing one of the cookies to your mouth. You don't think much of it, simply biting down then grabbing it on your own. The idea of a day off is enticing… but you couldn't possibly. There's still so much to do…
“I know what you're thinking of. Pushing yourself only causes burnout. It'll be fun, believe me. And you'll be full of energy by tomorrow,” he carries on, cutting away any possibility of you working today. “Come on, yn. Please?”
You frown with a sigh, picking up another cookie, “How can I say no to that?” you smile, joking about it. He laughs at that, a deep contrast to his voice during their performances. He has the kind of laugh that makes you briefly forget about everything grey in your life, bringing easy comfort into the atmosphere from how contagious it is.
His idea of a ‘day off’ is lounging on the couch, binge watching movies and occasionally playing random games like UNO. At some point, he brought you to his room to show you his League account. Trying hard to get you into the game despite your initial disapproval due to the infamous reputation of the game.
“It's not that bad! Look,” he had told you.
“You sure sound like an addict,” is what you had told him.
Now, you're back in the common room, both slumped down the couch like sloths clinging to a branch while watching whatever is playing on TV, a few empty takeout boxes you had for lunch scattered across the low table. You yawn, it was maybe around 1 pm? You have no idea, but procrastination is getting to you. It seems to affect Felix too, with the way he lazily leans his head against your shoulder, slowly blinking at the screen in front.
Both of your attention shifts towards the main door as it clicks open, revealing Minho and Hyunjin peeking in at first before walking in. Hyunjin has a box of strawberries that he sets down on the counter.
Felix sits a bit straighter, “Hyung,” he greets them, and you clear your throat, knowing very well that you were well that you were supposed to be at the company working your ass off right now.
“There you are. You didn't tell us you were taking today off,” Minho says as he stalks closer, resting his hands behind you on the back of the couch. “What's the occasion?” He questions, skeptical.
You and Felix share a look, looking for a plausible excuse when Hyunjin slots himself besides you, resulting in you being squished closer to Felix and himself. “I'm sure our dear yn and Yongbok have a reason, right?”
Minho looks at him, giving him a dry laugh. “Don't think I was talking to you,” he says, though, there's no real bite to it. He's simply teasing.
“Well, uhm.” You interrupt. Rubbing the edge of your phone against your finger pad, trying to quickly come up with something when Felix cuts you off.
“Yn is sick! She had a fever this morning… so I asked her to stay home today.” He blatantly lies, right in their face too. Having such an angelic face does work wonders, considering how they seemed to buy whatever he just said. Even if they didn't, they played along.
“Is that so?” Minho asks, leaning down towards you from behind, him being right above your head. “Poor yn.” His voice is saccharine, like always in a way it would seem conceding if you didn't know how he acts by now.
Hyunjin inches closer, his face being barely distanced from your face. Your eyes widen, trying to pull back for some distance but you end up bumping against Felix. They were all suddenly so close, too close. “You feel better now?” Hyunjin asks, tilting his head towards yours as if to examine it.
Your throat runs dry, nodding hastily. “Yes, better…” You say, voice coming out a bit hoarse from being flushed against them on both sides. Your breath hitch when he brings a palm to your forehead, your skin burning against his.
“Are you sure? You're flaming up right now,” he asks, looking up at Minho who is standing behind you. “Check her up, hyung. She is probably still feverish.”
You side eye Felix from that position, your lie backfiring. He seems as shocked as you, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. Hiding his grin behind his palm as if anything in this situation was close to being funny. You can't feel irritated for long before you know it— Minho is holding your hair from behind; Hyunjin takes the hairband from around your wrist and gives it to Minho to tie your hair up.
You can feel his eyes on you from behind, lowering his face low enough till it was right next to your ear, breath fanning over your neck. “We should get her to bed so that she rests up,” he suggests. The proximity makes you shiver. “She's still got a lot to do once she's fully healed,” he looks at Felix, the blond taking some seconds to take in what the older man is saying.
“Oh. Yeah, you're right–! Rest… she should rest.” Felix replies with a big innocent smile as if he wasn't the one who put you in that situation.
One second you're in the common room, and the second you're manhandled back to your room. They didn't even have to pick you up, they just brought you here somehow. The next thing you know? You're laying on your bed, pretending to be sick with them hovering around you like moths to flame.
“Comfortable?” Hyunjin asks, sitting at the edge of the bed, getting some cushions to put against you and behind your head. Minho left the room about a minute ago to fetch you a glass of water.
Felix still can't contain his laughter, snickering silently in a corner, watching you getting pampered like a sick baby. Suddenly, he didn't feel that sweet enough for you not to want to smack him by the end of all this. You'd rather get scolded for being lazy than… this. At least that's what you want to think. If only they knew the reason why you were burning up was because of them, and not any form of sickness.
By the time Minho comes back, he has you drinking the water from the glass by his hand. All of this feels too domestic for your heart, their attention too sudden to register. Meanwhile, Felix continues to feign innocence, pretending you're actually ill and helping to take care of your form.
Things have settled down by now, and you can't help but notice how Minho's hand rests on Hyunjin's thigh while they speak. Hyunjin playing with Felix's fingers with his own. Hyunjin says something stupid, Minho scoffs and threatens him; looking over your table to find some tissue paper to force into Hyunjin's mouth. They are having fun, it almost makes you jealous enough not to notice the intimate grip the older one has on Hyunjin, and the way he's eyeing him down from where he's standing above them. The way Felix giggles about it, and how Hyunjin's arm ends up pulling him closer as a barrier between him and Minho. How Minho softens when faced with Felix, a knowing smile on his face as if this position would be familiar in a different context.
Their laughter dies out, and soon it's just them looking at each other and breathing a bit harder from moving and playfighting. Holding eye contact before breaking away. You'd be insane not to notice the brief heat between those three. You feel even more insane for thinking that way towards such an innocent act.
Whatever. You thought, turning over so that your back faces them, your eyes closing and finally welcoming the initial wave of sleepiness that was influencing you before their arrival.
You wake up to the feels of physical contact, lots of physical contact. Blinking away the blurriness from your eyesight to meet Felix's arm draped over your stomach, he is fast asleep, lightly snoring. Minho is on your other side, lazily scrolling on his phone. And Hyunjin on the edge of the bed, eating the strawberries he had bought earlier. You couldn't believe they were still here, the sun had already set down outside.
Your squirming brings the attention of those awake as Hyunjin lets out an ‘Oh’.
“You're awake,” He says, turning over to look at you, propping himself up on one elbow. The sight of you waking up next to his other members feels weird, almost welcoming. A feeling he couldn't shake off from your first few interactions together. He's sure they also feel the same, with the way Minho brings a hand to your face to brush away the messy hair from your frame— with how comfortably Felix cuddles into you to sleep like that.
With the action near your face, you realize how scruffy you must look right now. You shake Felix softly, trying to wake him up. He stirs, a frown adorning his once peaceful features. “Need a shower,” you tell him. Yourself, or maybe them? You don't know anymore, only scouting away from their embrace, walking over to the bathroom and locking the door. They watch you the entire time, eyes not leaving you once since you woke up.
Finally alone. It feels like the first breath of fresh air you've had since awhile, ironic considering you were leaning against the bathroom door right now. Your body does miss their touch, their lingering graze, their body warmth— No. Impossible. You were just lonely lately, having been separated from the other girls you were trained to debut with. Therefore welcoming any sort of camaraderie. Nothing less, nothing more.
With a heavy sigh, you undress. Pulling your shirt over your shoulders as it meets the ground, the rest following suit.
The water is cold at first, exactly what you need to bring you back off your delusional cloud, choosing not to go more in depth about how close they are getting within your bubble.
You hear it at first. Well you think you do? It's weird. As if people were kissing, loudly, whining. The walls aren't that thick despite the expensive quality of the dorm. You mistake it for the sound of water running for a few minutes, but then it becomes apparent as you hear a low pitched sound. It's muffled quickly, as if the person had a hand clamped down their mouth. You pause, halfway through washing your body, trying your best to focus on what was happening outside.
It halts briefly. Then you hear it again, lips smacking echoing through the walls. Slowly, you step out of the water, silently walking to the doorframe. You feel guilty for it, but this is your room where it is happening. Pressing your ear to the door, you listen. Mouth drying at the possible situation happening outside. Are you finally losing it? It can't be… you're sure you heard something.
Your soul almost jumps out of your body when you hear a ringtone, knocking your head against the wooden frame in the process of getting startled. “Shit,” you curse, rubbing your forehead. The ringtone stops, signaling that the call had been declined on the other side. All noise is canceled when you suddenly hear a knock on the other side of the door.
A throat clearing. “Yn, did you fall down?” someone asks, probably Hyunjin judging from the voice.
You cringe. The idea of being caught eavesdropping makes your heart drop. “It's just my shampoo bottle, no worries,” you reply, your excuse is too obvious but you couldn't care less to save face right now when it's your right to know what is going down in your bedroom.
A moment of silence. Immediately bringing you to care, worry creeping into your throat when he speaks again. “I see. Minho-hyung and I will be going now, just wanted to let you know. Bye,” the way he's speaking only confuses you furthermore. It was awkward, as if he was the one who was caught doing something inappropriate. The lack of comment from Minho also speaks volume. You assume that the phone ringing was probably Han or Changbin calling their roommate back. You run a hand over your face. Just what was going on back there?
It takes you several minutes to leave the bathroom, aiming to recollect your spiraling thoughts and failing miserably at doing so. Felix is still lying against the frame of your bed by the time you come out, a towel draped around your wet hair. He has his phone in hand until you come closer. He hit you with that smile. A smile so naive that is sweet enough to almost make you forget what you heard.
You stand there for some moment, subtly analyzing for any strange behavior with the pretense of drying your hair with your towel before getting on the bed.
His clothes are kept in a way that seems ruffled and hurriedly put back in place during those minutes you took in the bathroom. His cheeks lightly tinted and his hair messy. You could mistake it for the nap earlier, but he looks way different, way too flustered to be from grogginess.
If he notices your skepticism, he ignores it.
Honestly, he hopes you aren't aware of anything, and yet, at the same time— he hopes that you would bring it up. He wants you to, he's dying for you to.
“Who called earlier?” you ask, getting on the mattress, feeling it sink slightly from the pressure.
He takes a second, “You heard.”
You heard. Of course you did. It wasn't a question, rather a realization that holds a deeper meaning. One that is at the tip of your tongue, but you just can't fully grasp it yet.
“It was Binnie, he was asking when Hyunjin would be coming back. Min-hyung went with him since they took the same car,” he explained. You nod, setting yourself down fully.
“That's all?”
He blinks at your question. A quiet ‘Huh–?’ leaving his mouth.
“Nothing else happened…?” You clarify what you meant. He shakes his head, but the way his ears redden at your ponder doesn't escape your attention. You hum in response, not knowing how to continue this as you feel your own heartbeat quicken at the possibilities of his reaction. Is it dirty to think about it? Is it dirty to want to feel included? You know that deep inside, that's one of the main reasons for your curiosity. You couldn't care less about what they did behind closed doors. But with how they've been treating you lately, you can't help the fire that's been ignited inside of you. No matter how much you deny it.
His eyes meet yours, the brown of them reflecting against the light of your lampshade. His lashes flutter, looking at you lying down from the angle. Despite just taking a shower, you can feel your body flame up, as if the temperature were rising. Your skin prickles at the intensity of the air around you, feeling suffocated by the proximity of him.
“Yn,” your name leaves his mouth, voice octaves below from the airy one he usually addresses you with. The shift is immediate with how he leans down, putting his phone on your drawer and giving you his full attention.
You prop yourself up, either to prepare to push away, or to pull him closer in case it happens.
His hands reach your face, cradling you in the kindest way, as if he was cherishing your expression. All of this felt overwhelming, having someone look at you like that. You can't get enough, you wish he would just close the distance already.
It's as if he reads your mind, his thumb brushing against your lower lip for a second before he pulls you in. The way his lips brush against yours is tender, soft– testing the waters. Your arms wrap around his neck, urging him even closer, wanting to deepen the kiss. He gasps when your hand runs through his hair, nails itching against his scalp. Both of you melt into each other. Taking the opportunity of his opened mouth, you push your tongue inside, a fleeting taste of something sweet-and-sour lingering in his mouth.
The flashing image of the strawberries Hyunjin was eating earlier courses through your mind, alas your thoughts are quickly interrupted by his ever-moving hands. They stop by the hem of your shirt, trailing over it before opting under was a better option. He moans into your mouth at the feels of your warm skin, running his fingertips shamelessly over your stomach.
You're pushed against the headboard with how he was moving, almost desperate for your every touch— stuck between a hard place and a rock. The rock being his hardening bulge pressing against your thigh.
“Hmhm,” you mutter against his open mouth, “Lix, slow down—” you ask, trying to catch a breath. He doesn't hear you at first, lost in the moment until you have to pull him back by the grip on his hair. It's not hard, just enough to give you some space.
He looks at you, like really looks at you. His pupils are blown out, heavy pants and cheeks dusty with pink. “Sorry. sorry. Sorry. Didn't mean to, my bad.” He apologizes in a mantra, big doe eyes gazing up at you, almost begging for you to give in already. That the distance was killing him. “I need you, please?”
You can't deny your own needs, core pulsating in coordination with your palpitating heart. “Is this okay—?” you ask, this is messy. It'd be messy to have sex with your band mate, proving every allegation that was put on you the moment your arrival was announced. You worry, having every right to. And he understands, he can feel how hesitant you are with your decisions right now. But he also feels this intense attraction towards you that he just can't get his fingers on.
He takes in a shaky breath, trying to gain composure. To reassure you. He presses his forehead against yours, your stomach fluttering at how romantic his stare is. It's dark, and yet filled with a hint of adoration. “It's not just you. I'll be there, if anything happens.” His hands snake down either of your arms till they reach your own. His fingers intertwine with yours, giving you a comforting squeeze. “They won't have to know. If it gets out, I'll take the blame. It's okay, it'll be okay. Don't deny it, you feel it too. Right? Yn?” His questions and words fill your brain, his tone making you dizzy with feelings that are now starting to rise.
You breathe in, deeply. Closing your eyes, nodding. “Okay. Yes, you're right. I trust you.” You reply, and that's all the confirmation he needs before pressing his lips to your neck. Trailing soft kisses turn messy the further down he goes, his fingers caressing you underneath your shirt, lips pressing against your collarbone; leaving an especially sloppy kiss there.
You whine when his hand reaches the underside of your breast, fondling you through your bra. With how flushed you are, you can practically feel each other's racing heartbeat.
He removes his hands from your shirt, moving them down to grip on your thighs and part them so that he could nestle in properly. His mouth separates from your skin to pamper kisses all over your jawline till he reaches the side of your lips. His knee finds security in between your legs, pressing against your aching core and providing you some tempting friction.
You moan and he immediately swallows it by claiming your mouth once again, pinching his brows when he feels the warmth of you down there. His head spirals with the idea of how wet you are right now. Your hands move to his sides, grip tightening around his shirt, “Take it off,” you ask into his mouth and he compels immediately, pulling back briefly to throw his shirt off. You don't even have time to take him in before yours also leaves you, acting as if he would combust if didn't feel you skin-to-skin right now.
It's not long before his attention deviates to your breast, his finger hooking around the fabric of your bra to pull it down– letting your breasts spill free from its confinements. He whimpers at the sight of you, too good to be true. It's almost funny how needy he was being, but the situation had you too dizzy to make any comment. Not like you were complaining, particularly when his tongue grazes your hardened nipple, suckling on it like a starved man. You wince when he bites down, not rough but hard enough to have you clenching around nothing. He could feel it, you throbbing all over his knee. His hand took your other breast, fondling it and pinching your nipple in between his fingers.
“Perfect, so’ perfect,” he comments while pulling on you with his mouth, releasing your nipple with a ‘pop’. The wet saliva meets the crisp air, making you squirm.
Before you know it, your back hits the mattress with a faint thud. He takes a pillow, snugging it behind your head. Even now being considerate for your comfort. He giggles at your dumbfounded expression at how fast he just handled you, giving you a coy smile and moving down, pressing featherlight kisses all over your exposed skin till he reaches the waistband of your shorts.
His eyes meet yours, seeking validation first. When you don't show any resistance, his fingers hook on the waistband, pulling it down and setting you free from it. The sight is clear, the damp spot on the fabric of your panties standing out. He curses under his breath, feeling his dick throb within the confinement of his pants. It is painful, but all he can think of is you, you and you. The thought of you turning his brain into mush.
He nestles himself in between your thighs, bulge pressing against the mattress, arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you down. You almost feel shy under his stare, tilting your head to look at the ceiling instead.
“No, no. Love, look at me,” he asks you. No, begs you to. What he has been doing for the past minutes. The nickname makes your heart flutter, reluctantly moving your vision back to him when he takes a whiff of your smell, closing his eyes at the scent. You groan his name at that, heat creeping up your neck when he laps a long stroke over your already wet panties, moaning at the taste of you.
He's devouring you over the fabric, not bothering to push it aside yet, tongue probing against your hole, his arm leaves your thigh, snaking down; pressing his thumb against your clit. You squeal, feeling it despite the barrier.
Finally, at your silent pleas, he pulls the fabric to the side, mesmerized by you once again. “Felix, stop doing that.” you complain, embarrassment embracing your tone. Your stomach churning at the way he innocently blinks up at you.
“Doing what?” He asks, looking at you like a sick puppy.
Your lips quiver, trying to find the right words without cringing out. “That…” you trail off, subtly biting into your lower lip.
“That?” He repeats, teasing. It makes you want to swallow the whole world, including yourself into some sort of black hole and never crawl back out.
“That staring stuff you're doing. I can't,” you reply in a hand motion, timidity filling your voice. Ever since you started, he keeps staring at you with lovesick eyes, and it's making you act up. You can't tell what it is about it, it's like a drug. You're addicted.
He laughs, light despite the situation. “You can't?” He asks, pondering with a smile. “I can't either. You're so pretty, how can I not stare?”
There's genuineness in his answer, you can tell. That's why it's got you throbbing, the need for him increasing with each word. You twitch when his mouth makes contact with your pussy, raw. Hips bucking into his mouth while trying to hold eye contact. Quiet moans leaving you from how he is lapping at your mess, the wetness mixing with his saliva, running down his chin. He couldn't care less. Only caring about how cute you sound, and how good you taste.
You let out a particularly loud whine when he encloses his lips around your clit, giving you a harsh suck before easing it with his tongue. His hand moving down your cunt, using his fingers to spread your folds apart, giving him proper access as he trails his wet muscle down to your hole. Tip of his tongue teasing you. Your reactions make him indulge in, deciding not to torture you much, caving in where you've been desiring him to.
Your back arches off the mattress. Him providing you dual simulation with his thumb circling your clit and tongue fucking you. Pushing you over the edge, your hand drawing to his hair, holding him where you need him the most. He moans in response, the sensation of you pulling his hair going straight to his cock. The vibration of his moans onto him is what brings you to the edge, heels digging into the sheets and the coil in your stomach letting go.
He drinks you in, not wasting any drops. So good. So sweet. Just like the rest of you.
He lifts himself back up, meeting your heaving figure. Capturing your pants with his mouth, tasting yourself on him. He had separated from your lips just for a moment, but he kisses you like he had already missed it desperately. You palm his erection through his pants, earning a groan from him.
His hand moves to your wrist, pulling your touch away from his groin. Instead, wrapping your legs around his hips, pushing onto your bare cunt with his boner. The slow humping, sloppily kissing you, gently suckling on your tongue with his lips before pulling away. Drool coating both of your lips, and string running down his chin.
He's breathing heavily, looking at you as if he is still deciding how to have you. He wants to do everything. Anything. “Need you,” he says, “So bad, I'm losing it.” He holds onto your waist, lifting you up and turning you around so that he is the one sitting and you on his lap. The position has you right above where he desires you the most.
You shift on his lap, helping him free his cock from his pants. Now your turn to moan, he really is pretty everywhere.
He doesn't bother to pull his pants all the way down, cannot wait anymore. His grip on your hips giving you motion, cunt rubbing against his hard on, his tip catching your clit deliciously, both of you sharing a whimper.
“Lix, put it in. Don't tease,” you beg, your pussy clenching for him. A shiver runs through him at your plea, the wires in his brain entangling. You heave your hips up, giving him space to align himself.
“oh. Oh.” Felix moans at the feels of your warmth engulfing him, the tightness bringing small tears to his eyes. “So good. Shiiit,” he curses, trying to regain composure and failing to do so. He leans his forehead against your shoulder, panting at a pace to prevent himself from cumming right away.
The burn is delish, stretching you out real good, still sensitive from earlier. Your nails dig into his back as he bottoms out, sure to leave marks the stylist will curse at him for later on. He gives you (himself) a few seconds to adjust before urging you to move. Slowly. Hips grinding down on him, being so full of him.
You start to move on your own, motions that have him seeing blurry. He hugs you close, your tits fully pressed against his chest. His teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin on your neck, kissing down to muffle his noises.
It feels like it is just you, the rest of the world deafening as you get lost in the sensation. His hips thrusting up to meet your bounces, picking up an erratic and needy pace, the dirty sound of it echoing in the room.
His arms are fully envelop around you. Your legs tire out, with your peak approaching, it becomes harder to pick up. He gets it. Sitting up, he pulls out. You can only complain about the emptiness before he has you laying down, thrusting in once again. His elbows propping himself up for leverage, his pace faster than before, messy. He was chasing after it. Yours and himself.
Whines fall out of his mouth, getting louder every second to the point of having to hush him down with a kiss. He's hitting the right spot, you gripping him like a vice from how good it felt. Squirming in place if it wasn't for his body pressing you down. You're on the tip of it, you feel it to your bones. Trying your best to warn him.
“I know— I know baby,” he says, voice cracking. “Me too,” with that, grinding his hips against yours into fast shallow thrusts, his pelvis providing the right simulation on your aching clit. Your back arching into him, eyes tightly shut, seeing white as you come down. Gushing around, and sucking him in.
A pathetic high pitched sound leaves him, having to pull out before he does something he shouldn't. Stroking himself a few times before releasing all over your stomach. The sight of his cum running down to your cunt, the mess he created of you.
You exhale, a big one. The tension of the situation dissipates. Fingers threading through his hair as he rests his face on your chest, trying to catch his breath. A few kisses all over you then to your face, closing his eyes, embracing you.
You don't know whether to feel relieved or worried about your choices of actions. At the moment, it was just you and him. Not about the expectations or career you're expecting to build from this.
“Please don't regret this,” he says, the words speaking volumes next to your thoughts. “I told you, I'll take the blame if anything happens.” He doesn't give you any opportunity to protest or deny him, planting a kiss on your forehead. It's as light as his reassurance, although you can't help but embrace it for the time being.
ANYWAYS. if any paragraph is fully italized or wtv thats bc tumblr hates me btw🥹✌️.
