yungblud imagines / oneshots

youre wearing my lungs

prompt ;; you've got an obsession.
warnings ;; lip fetish(?) just dirty sksk

You always, always think to yourself—is it normal to get this horny watching your boyfriend perform?

He makes that microphone his bitch. His body loses itself to the music, hips hitting every beat. His hands glide up and down the sliver pole or skim across his guitar. His eyes are closed or they're open with a mischievous glint to them. His hair is tousled and sweaty because of how much effort he puts into his performances.

While those aspects of him do get you a bit hot and bothered, they don't make your throat tight like it is right now. They don't make your hands clench, make your face hot.

No. The aspect of him that does that, are his lips.

Full and pink, wet from licking them so much. It's so distracting when you want to focus on his gorgeous singing, but you can only think about his head between your legs. His lips gliding down your body, memorizing every inch of you.

And when he's clumsily eating ice cream, as cliche as it is, you always feel a hot pang of arousal shoot up your body. The white covers his lips, and your eyes are locked onto his tongue as he swipes off the ice cream. You cough up an excuse to leave and get the fuck outta there, because you can't fucking breathe.

And since he's so good at being androgynous, sometimes he smears on red lipstick before a show. Makes sure the applicant is nice and perfect, covers every inch of his perfect lips. You swallow down a whimper when you watch him. You can't get enough.

Your knees are weak after the show. He meets you in the hallway to the dressing room and immediately reaches for you, sealing your own lips in a loving kiss.

It's soft. It's supposed to be soft. But you can't help the almost pained, hungry moan that escapes your mouth as your hands ball in his shirt. Your pussy is fucking pulsing, and he pulls away with a raised eyebrow.

You're quickly pulling him back. Sucking, nibbling, biting those pillows on his face. Just the action of doing that drives you mad, and you have no shame as you whimper and reach for your hand, shoving it into your pants.

"Shit, luv." he whispers, carries you away to a bathroom or something. You're almost about to cry from how aroused you are. He yanks your pants down, shoves your panties to the side and kisses you. You jerk, almost cumming then and there.
He laughs, dragging his lips over your opening, kissing your swollen clit.

You can't breathe. Your hands are buried into his hair and you cum before you can think. He kisses you—your lips, your neck, your cheek, your nose, your chest. It's so hot and you feel like you're suffocating as he jerks his cock inside of you, rutting against you instead of fucking you, but you don't mind. Your hands cup your face, begging for him and he gives you all you want and more.

On the ride home, his lips never leave your body.