your mouth is warm—too warm, too wet, too much. he’s sinking into it, into you, into the way you’re sucking him down like it’s the only thing you’ve wanted all day.
chris can’t fucking breathe.
his head tips back against the couch, jaw slack, muscles wound too tight. he’s been tense since he walked through the door, shoulders locked up from hours of studio work, from endless meetings, from carrying everything like it’s his job to keep the world from falling apart.
and now you’re here, pulling him apart instead.
his hands grip the cushions because he doesn’t trust himself to touch you. he’s so fucking tired, too exhausted to think, to move, to even ask for this—and yet, you’re on your knees between his thighs, wrecking him without hesitation.
it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he’s unraveling. his cock is twitching, throbbing against your tongue, already leaking, already making a mess of your lips.
you hum, the vibration shooting straight through him, and his whole body shudders. his thighs tense, his breath stutters, and he’s so overwhelmed, so fucking sensitive from the stress weighing him down all day that he feels like he’s going to snap in half.
fuck. fuck. fuck.
he can’t last.
not with you sucking him down like you own him, not with your hands gripping at his skin like you need this just as much as he does, not with your mouth so obscene, so pretty around his cock, dripping spit, slick, hot, messy.
and you know it.
you can feel it in the way his body reacts to every flick of your tongue, in the way his abs flex, in the way his fingers keep twitching, like he wants to grab your hair, wants to push you down, wants to lose himself in your mouth
but he’s holding back, because he’s still chris, still the leader, still the responsible one.
so you make the choice for him.
you sink down, take him deeper, let him feel the tight heat of your throat swallowing around him.
chris chokes on a moan.
his hand jerks forward before he can stop it, fingers curling at the base of your skull. you gag around him, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth, and something in him snaps. his hips jerk, his restraint crumbling. he’s thrusting up before he can stop himself, before he can think, before he can remind himself to be careful, to be gentle—
but you let him. take it. swallow him down like you want him to use you.
he’s trembling. every muscle locked up, every nerve fried, his brain completely white-noise static. he can barely think. barely breathe. he’s needed this for so long, needed something to rip him out of his own head, to quiet the noise, to make him forget—
and you’re giving it to him.
he’s close. too fucking close. the tight coil in his gut is already snapping, the pleasure rolling through him too sharp, too consuming, too fucking much.
and then he’s gone.
his hips stutter, his entire body locking up, and he whimpers, so wrecked, so desperate, so far fucking gone he doesn’t even care how pathetic he sounds. he spills into your mouth, pulse after pulse, hot and thick, and you take it. swallow it. let him fuck his way through it until he’s drained, until he’s spent, until he’s slumped against the couch, gasping for air.
you wipe your mouth, glance up at him through heavy lashes, and say nothing.
because you know what you’ve done. because chris knows he’ll let you do it again.
hyunjin making u cockwarm him while he draws/paints😵💫
“sit still.”
“i’m trying my best!”
hyunjin makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and uses his free hand to move your face back to the angle he wanted.
“you know, this isn’t how most people paint live subjects,” you mutter.
“i’m not most people,” hyunjin quips.
“clearly.”
“what was that?” your boyfriend asks, setting down his paintbrush.
you purse your lips. “nothing.”
“uh-huh, sure. stop being a brat.”
“i wouldn’t have to be a brat if you’d just fuck me!”
he sighs, picking up the brush again. he dots it with fresh paint and wipes the excess off on the edge of the palate before bringing it to the canvas.
“that defeats the purpose of this. getting fucked is supposed to be the reward for being good and sitting still.”
“it’d be easier to be still if you weren’t making me sit on your cock.”
hyunjin smirks. “but that’s what makes it fun.”
you groan, attempting to slump forward into your boyfriend before he can catch you. he does catch you, though, and tsks in disapproval.
“you want me to leave you needy? because i will. i’ll pull out right now and make you watch me jerk off until i cum on your face. won’t even let you touch my cock.”
it’s not an empty threat and you know it.
“n-no.”
“that’s what i thought.”
he goes back to painting your portrait, eyes flitting in between your face in front of him and your face on the canvas behind you as he works.
the time passes slowly. you can feel yourself dripping onto hyunjin’s lap. you can only imagine it’s dripping onto the studio floor as well. you want him to give in, you need him to break, but there’s no way that’s going to happen, even if he’s just as turned on as you.
he’s zoned in, you can tell because he hasn’t said a word to you in the last fifteen minutes. you don’t want to distract him but you’re starting to lose your mind.
“jinnie?” you ask gently.
“hm?”
“can i… can i play with my clit?”
the paintbrush stops mid-stroke and he sits up to look you in the eyes. “what?”
“can i rub my clit, please? please, please, please i need something, i’m going crazy here.” he opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can get a word in. “i won’t move! i promise i’ll stay so still. i’ll just rub my clit until i cum, you won’t have to-”
“you know you cumming around me will probably make me cum, right?” hyunjin scoffs. “making yourself cum isn’t really the definition of cockwarming, either.”
“but jinnie…”
“we had an agreement. let me finish this and then i’ll fuck the brat out of you.”
you know that I can't leave you alone @jjk-emotrash - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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