#and then getting absolutely dicked to pieces with the promise of using a magic mirror and seeing him again whenever I needed it again

[lostlegendaerie]

.n.s.f.w. content in tags

[babbushka]

Sinday you say? Talk to me about being bratty with Pale and him correcting your attitude. ❤

(drug mentions in this one folks!)

“Pale?” You called into his apartment as you shut the door behind you.

“In here baby.” Pale called back, before his voice continued, “No you listen to me you piece of shit.”

Ah, so he was on a business call. You wondered if it was about the restaurant, or his composing.

“I ain’t asking for much all we need is for you to reschedule the fucking gala. The concerto is in four fucking days! How am I supposed to – if you interrupt me again I’m gonna bash your fuckin’ face in so help me God, Richie. Reschedule the fucking gala for Saturday. That’s all I’m fuckin’ asking of you.”

The composing then.

You smiled as you slipped your shoes off, began stripping right in front of him. Pale liked you naked, and you felt comfortable being naked around him, so it was routine for you to shed all your clothes whenever he was around.

You walked into the living room, found his little mirror with the coke he couldn’t get enough of. You figured you’d give him a helping hand, rolled up a hundred dollar bill – because of course Pale couldn’t just use a single, you thought with a bit of amusement – and cut a line nice and neat for him.

Pale was pacing the apartment, the cord of the landline being pulled nearly taut from all his circling around the kitchen island. He stopped pacing once he saw you, what you were doing, how you had your tits out.

Leaning against the kitchen counter he crooked a finger towards you, gesturing for you to go to him, and you did immediately, carrying the little mirror with enough care that nothing accidentally spilled. He tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder and snorted the line up with a pinch of his handsome nose. You put the mirror down, wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed and sucked at his neck as the free hand that wasn’t holding the phone snaked down to squeeze at your ass.

“I really don’t give a shit pal I know that you know that we scheduled the theater for rehearsal every fucking day this week leading up to the concerto,” He was now talking the speed of light, pulse jumping in his throat, “I don’t know who the fuck told you you could host the gala tomorrow night – who the fuck hosts a gala on a Tuesday anyway – but you can’t, and that’s fuckin’ that. No I will not hold you sonofabitch!”

He squeezed at your ass hard, kneaded at the meat of your ass for a minute before letting it go with a little slap. You gasped against his throat and let a hand of your own slide to the front of his very nicely pressed trousers, your fingers working swiftly at the button closure and unzipping the fly.

Pale was still very much on the phone, and he snatched your hand up quickly with a, “Be nice.”

You huffed a little laugh, and kneeled on the floor of the kitchen, absolutely no intention of being nice. Pale was such a smart dresser, you thought, as you untucked his silk shirt from those trousers, exposed his abs. A smart dresser and fit. You kissed at his lower stomach, ran your tongue across the planes of hard muscle there. You loved the way his stomach fluttered, just from the feeling of you being so near, of you teasing him like that.

He was hard, it was painfully obvious with the way that thick line bulged out from inside his trousers, and you thought you’d be good and help him get a little relief. Pale almost dropped the phone when you fished his cock out, licked up the shaft. His other hand fisted your hair and pulled you off of him, a big angry glower cast in your direction.

“What’d I fuckin’ say, huh?” He hissed, covering the receiver with his shoulder. You pouted, looked up at him with big doe eyes and he sucked his teeth, “Oh are you bored? I’m not givin’ you any fuckin’ attention? You need me that bad?”

“Uh-huh.” You grinned, the fist in your hair tightening, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too but you don’t see me bein’ a brat, do ya?” He countered.

You pouted again, started to move away.

“I can go – ”

“Get the fuck back over here,” He frowned, not wanting you to actually leave, not wanting you far away from him at all, “’I can go’ yeah no fuckin’ way you’re goin’ anywhere…Yeah I’m still on the god damned line.” He spoke into the phone.

The hand in your hair slid around to the front of your face, and he grabbed your jaw, held you in place. You took the opportunity to make out with his hand, suck on his thumb.

“Mmm,” You moaned, loud enough to make Pale’s cock – which was still out and hanging heavy right in front of your face – twitch.

Pale looked at you for a minute before letting out a deep annoyed sigh.

“Richie? Hey Richie, fuck you.” He hung up on the guy, slammed the phone down onto the wall unit.

He wasted no time in hauling you up to your feet.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He asked, making you grin. “A terror, you’re a right fuckin’ terror. Into the bedroom, now.”

“But – ” You wanted to get fucked right there, he’d done it plenty of times before.

“Now, (Y/N).” He cut you off, his tone brooking no argument.

 Once in the bedroom, he was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow.

“I shouldn’t even give this to you, fucking whore. I should make you beg for my cock, you’re so pretty when you beg, the way your eyes go wide like you’re afraid I’m gonna say no. When the fuck have I ever said no to you, huh?” He asked, pushing his cock all the way into you with each of his too-hard thrusts.

“Never!” You gasped out, back arching for him as you took him on your hands and knees.

“Yeah that’s right, never. Because I’m a real nice fuckin’ guy, who wants to keep his girl happy even when he’s busy.” He punctuated that last bit with a sharp shove to the spot between your shoulder blades, pushing you down so your tits rubbed against his sheets as he held a firm grip on your hips so your ass was in the air.  

“You love fucking me.” You spread your legs just a little wider, just enough so he has better purchase to slide his big cock between your folds, “It’s your favorite thing.”

Pale grunted and you moaned as he slapped your ass, watched the flesh ripple before his eyes.

“I’ll have you know my favorite fuckin’ thing is eating this pussy out, but you’ve been bad. My bad girl.” He shook his head, not really angry, but just frustrated enough that he was going to make you feel it.  

“What are you gonna do to me?” You already knew the answer, but you liked to hear him say it.

“I’m gonna make you come so many fucking times you’re gonna go blind from it.” He said through grit teeth as his sweat dripped down his nose and onto the back of your neck, “I’m gonna tie you up and fuck you for hours and you’re gonna be sobbing into my satin fucking pillows by the time I’m done with you, gonna be leaking my fucking come for days.”

“Please?” You whined, the thought of that so delicious.

He growled, yanked you off his cock just enough so that he could flip you over, your pretty face red and blotchy from where you’d sort of been suffocating into the pillow.

He slid back into you so easily, leaned down to bite at your nipples as your slick wet his thighs. Your legs wound around him, pressed him deeper and deeper into you, toes curled as you threw your head back and moaned.

“What a perfect whore you are, so perfect for me, you take my cock so well. I ought to keep it shoved in you forever, how about that? This cunt of yours’ll keep it nice and hard and hot. You can fuck yourself on it when I’m on the god damned phone working.” Pale spit into your mouth and you just laughed around it, that laugh turning to a whine as he just barely grazed your gspot. “Needy slut, I’ve got you, don’t worry.”

“Pale! Oh, pl – please.” Your hand snaked its way down your body but he caught the motion and smacked it away.

“No you don’t get to fucking touch.” He snarled, the bed creaking just a little from the force of his hips, “You’re gonna come on my cock, again and again before I even think about playing with your pretty little clit.”

“Please? I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good.” You begged, feeling your orgasm start to build in the pit of your stomach, feel it start to spread to your lower back.

“No you won’t you whore, no you won’t.” Pale bit your jaw, bit down hard and then soothed it with his tongue, “But that’s okay, because I like you when you’re bad. Say my name you slut, go on.”

“Pale! You’re so fucking good, your cock is the best, I’m all – oh fuck! – I’m all yours, this cunt’s all yours.” You babbled, until finally finally, his dick worked its magic and you were coming, clamping down around him and shouting out his name again and again and again.

Pale didn’t give you any reprieve, just kept fucking you through it, thrust that thick cock of his in and out of you, chasing his own pleasure. He always liked to come at least once before he dragged himself out like this, before he “punished” you with mind-blowing sex, and you let yourself just go limp like putty in his hands, as he manhandled your limbs however he wanted, plowed into you.

He came in you with a long sigh of relief, winced just a little as he milked it for all he could, still pumping his cock inside of you as his come flooded your cunt. He tipped your hips up in that way he sometimes did, wanting to make sure not a single drop was wasted.

“Just you fucking wait until I’m ready to take you again sweetheart.” He panted against your forehead, and you stretched out underneath him smiling like the luckiest girl in the world – because you were.

[peachies-and-tae]

“You’re mine now.”

Ship: Vmin (V/Taehyung and Jimin)

Taehyung needs a nude model for his art project. Jimin, his best friend and crush, agrees to be his model. 

Is drawing supposed to lead to a handjob?

Taehyung was sitting in class, tapping at the desk with his pencil as he watches the clock move slowly. He’s barely listening to the teacher talk about the properties of drawing the human body, because it’s their next project.

“Now, I hope this won’t be very hard for most of you, but I’d like for you to find a nude model. Someone you’re comfortable with. Having a real life display of the human body right in front of you can help you with proportions and accuracy. Is that clear?”

The students start chattering with each other loudly, some groaning about how weird it is, others super excited about drawing someone naked. Taehyung is frozen in his seat. He’s not sure how to feel. Is it even legal to make us draw from a nude model? And who in the hell is Taehyung going to use? He knows nobody who would even be a candidate for that position; even if he stared at himself in the mirror. No thank you. The only person Taehyung would be slightly comfortable with is his crush...his best friend, but that’s too much to ask from a friend. Plus...Taehyung would just get distracted by his body and it would be hard to focus on the drawing. His hand would shake as he held the pencil and he’d probably press down too hard on his soft features when they locked eyes. No way. Maybe he can just fake it? Hopefully his professor won’t notice.

The bell cuts off the student’s conversations and everyone grabs their bags, shuffling out of the room. Taehyung shoves his sketchbook into his bag and follows everyone else out. He’s done with his classes for the day, so he just heads back to the dorm. He plans to throw himself on his bed and bitch about this stupid assignment that he’s most likely going to fail for not doing at all.

When Taehyung pushes open his dorm room door, he’s surprised when he sees Jimin staring out the window beside his desk. Did they have plans that he forgot about?

“Oh, Taehyung! Finally, you’re here,” Jimin says.

“Uh, yeah.. What’s up?”

Jimin sits down on Taehyung’s bed and scuffs his feet against the carpet, “Nothing. I get really bored at my dorm. God, my roommate is ignorant. And he’s really mean to me!”

“Yoongi? Isn’t he like that to everyone though?” Taehyung laughs as he sets his backpack down and takes a seat at his desk chair.

“I mean, I guess. It’s just really frustrating. I honestly like it better here. You’re lucky you don’t have a roomate.”

Taehyung is lucky he doesn’t have a roommate. It’s all he asked for when he went to college. He’s fine with everything else, but staying in the dorm, it wasn’t going to be with someone he didn’t know. So, he has this dorm all to himself, although there’s still an empty bed on the left side of the room, looking lonely. Jimin sometimes sleeps there; Taehyung would have been fine if Jimin was his roommate but Jimin had gotten into college early. Taehyung came later.

Taehyung leans back in his chair and signs loudly, “Okay, you wanna know what assignment my art teacher gave us today?”

“Hmm...you have to draw those weird squishy anime kitties?” The smile on Jimin’s face is adorable, and honestly, he kind of reminds Taehyung of these so called ‘squishy anime kitties’.

“Nope. He wants us to draw the human body but oh, here’s the best part. We need a fucking nude model!”

Jimin’s face falls slightly, as if he’s discouraged about this assignment as much as Taehyung is but...in a different way. “Oh. Who’s your model?”

Usually, Jimin would laugh and start complaining along with Taehyung but this reaction is something he didn’t expect. He seems a little...jealous.

“Pshh, no one! You think I’d have someone who’d be brave enough to let me draw them naked?” Taehyung scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll never get the assignment done. Maybe I should just take the F right now.”

“I’ll do it.”

Taehyung freezes. It feels like his whole body has lit on fire.

“...what?”

“I said I’ll do it. I’ll be your nude model, since you need one,” Jimin says, shrugging softly. “It’s not a big deal to me.”

“B-but, it is to me! We’re best friends, Jimin. I’m not going to ruin our relationship over a stupid homework assignment,” Taehyung expresses, looking at Jimin as if he’s gone crazy.

Jimin is silent for a minute. “It’s not going to ruin our friendship. If anything it will...strengthen it.”

Taehyung chokes on his spit and Jimin reels back, not sure why he’s suddenly dying. Can Taehyung really accept this? Is he really going to say yes to sketching his best friend...okay, not just his best friend, HIS CRUSH, naked?? It feels taboo to him and he’s not sure if he even wants to risk anything. But...Jimin doesn’t seem turned away by this, or disgusted. He willingly said he’d be Taehyung’s model without him even asking or hinting towards it. Why would he let this special chance go to waste?

Oh, ya know, cause you’re gay for your own best friend but you're going to sketch him naked? Yep, that’s a great idea.

“Are...you sure?” Taehyung asks after catching his breath.

Jimin nods and smiles, “Absolutely. It could be fun.”

Taehyung almost chokes again but he stops himself. God, he needs to stop being so awkward.

“When did you want to start? I’m free now, or later. Uhm...tomorrow afternoon-”

“N-now,” Taehyung spits out a little too quickly.

Jimin looks a little surprised at first, but then nods, “Okay. I’m here now so, mind as well do it before either of us chicken out.”

“I wouldn’t chicken out,” Taehyung mumbles but he knows damn well if he planned for later, he’d probably act like he was dead when Jimin came and knocked on the door.

“Neither would I,” Jimin smiles and it makes Taehyung’s stomach do backflips. He’s already too excited about this.

Jimin stands up and looks around the room while Taehyung turns to grab his sketchbook out of his bag. Oh god, this is really happening. How is Taehyung supposed to stay calm? Any exposed piece of skin that isn’t supposed to be shown makes Taehyung want to throw up. Not because it’s gross...it’s because he’s so gay sometimes, it makes him sick. There’s nothing he can do about it, besides pleasure himself later that night with the image burned into his mind.

“Well, you can-”

All of Taehyung’s words fall out of his mouth when he turns and sees that Jimin has already taken his shirt off. He stands there in his jeans and, goddamn, Taehyung can barely take all of it in at once. Even from here, Taehyung could just see how soft Jimin’s skin is. All he wants is to run his fingers over every inch of him and drown himself in everything that is Jimin.

“What?” Jimin inquires, cocking his head to the side and smiling.

“N-nothing.”

Jimin just shrugs and starts to unbutton his jeans. He does it slowly and Taehyung starts to freak out at how tantalizing he can be. In a swift motion, he gets his jeans off and sits down on the extra bed so he can take his socks off. Taehyung has to look away because he knows he’ll start staring and probably drool over Jimin. He looks up when he hears the fabric moving as Jimin situates himself of the bed. And just like he ‘promised’, he's completely naked and Taehyung is holding his breath. He doesn't want his eyes to wander down. But it's not like he can just avoid it the whole time. He has to draw it!

“Could you toss me a pillow? ...Taehyung?”

Taehyung snaps out of his daze and nods quickly, grabbing Jimin a pillow. Jimin moves it under his arm as he props his head up with his hand.

“Does this work?” He asks.

“Y-yeah,” Taehyung stutters as he opens up his sketchbook to an empty page. His fingers skim over the page as if he's feeling the emptiness; the potential it holds. This sheet of paper holds the most potential of them all and Taehyung is shaking at the thought. Soon, it will be covered in soft lines that etch out all the curves and dips of what makes Park Jimin. The most beautiful human being Taehyung has ever seen.

Jimin moves a piece of hair out of his face, “If you want me laying in a different position, I can change. On my back,” Jimin turns to demonstrate what the pose is like. It’s suddenly like Jimin’s member is more exposed and Taehyung can't help but finally look. Let me remind you, Taehyung is gay. Really gay; and to suddenly see his crushes dick...it's hard NOT to get hard.

“Nope. Side is fine,” Taehyung finally manages to choke out. Jimin nods and switches back to his side while Taehyung crosses his legs awkwardly and sets his sketchbook in front of him.

He stares at the blank page and at his pencil like it will start magically doing it all. This is all him. He has to look at Jimin’s body and draw it out on paper, which will never do his looks justice. Taehyung decides to start with Jimin’s abdomen. It's the building block of the body, the best place to start. When his pencil hits the paper, his hand moves automatically. Soft lines over the curve of his side, shading in the dips for each and every muscle, and moving up to the arm that drapes over his side. Just to get this done perfectly takes 45 minutes, yet Jimin holds on. Taehyung takes a moment to lean back and inspect his work, to see how it looks so far. The next step is Jimin’s face, which is a plethora of fine details. Taehyung can handle the challenge. But when they lock eyes, Taehyung's heart skips a beat and his lungs tighten, like he suddenly can't breathe. He shakes this off and continues, working on a brief outline before going in and starting on his plump lips. Taehyung's mind wanders to what it would feel like to kiss Jimin, especially with those pink plump lips. He'd be so warm and inviting. Taehyung feels a familiar pang in his stomach and he wiggles in his chair, trying to relax all over again. He sighs and focuses on Jimin again. His eyes are probably the best part of his face. They accentuate all the smaller things, like his round nose, and defined eyebrows. Jimin is a walking masterpiece.

Almost an hour later, Taehyung finishes fluffing out Jimin’s hair and shading his jawline when he leans back and yawns.

“We can take a break, if you'd like,” Taehyung tells Jimin.

“Oh, well if I move then we won't be able to perfect the picture. It will look weird,” Jimin says, laying his head down on the pillow.

Taehyung silently agrees. Honestly, he wants to give his wrist a break and his mind. He may have been working daintily but his mind is going wild. About Jimin. Taehyung saved the bottom part for last because he wouldn't be able to continue drawing after it. And he needs to get this done.

So here comes the hardest part for Taehyung.

At the same time, he wasn't really complaining. Jimin has a nice body which leads down to a nice length. Taehyung thinks he can do it. He thinks the feeling will pass as he keeps drawing but...it only gets worse. Taehyung is working on the shading of his thighs when his shaky hand drops the pencil and he lets out a breath he's been holding.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks.

Taehyung shakes his head, “No, it’s okay I’m...fine.”

Jimin narrows his eyes because he’s known Taehyung long enough to know when he’s lying. “No, seriously, what’s wrong?” Jimin then catches sight of Taehyung fidgeting in his chair and he starts to get a clue. “Are you...hard?” Jimin eyes Taehyung’s crotch and it suddenly feels like his already tight jeans are getting tighter.

Taehyung chokes on his breath. He doesn’t want to say yes but he doesn’t want to say no either because then...this ‘issue’ wouldn’t get taken care of. So, Taehyung just nods softly and keeps his eyes down low.

“Come here,” Jimin says.

“Uh, what? Why?” Taehyung’s head shoots up and he sees that Jimin is now sitting up, and he’s made a spot available for Taehyung. He stares for a second, but Jimin pats the spot next to him and Taehyung automatically scurries over.

“Tae,” Jimin says, “I know that you’re turned on. Why...why is that?”

Taehyung still stares down at his feet, “I guess, I kind of like you?”

“Oh...really?” Jimin asks with some excitement in his voice.

“Yeah and...yeah. I’m sorry, I knew this wasn’t a good idea to begin with because I knew all the consequences but I felt like playing cards with the devil and here I am now, paying for it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Taehyung shrugs, “I don’t know. Getting turned on by your best friend, who has nicely volunteered to be your nude model, isn’t exactly...normal. And now there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You can touch me,” Jimin whispers.

Taehyung freezes. This isn’t what he was expecting at all. Jimin wants him to touch him? Where…?

“Uh,” Taehyung finally looks up and meets Jimin’s gaze. His hazel eyes are lusty and it almost scares Taehyung because he’s never seen Jimin like this before. “W-where?”

“Anywhere,” Jimin says, smiling softly.

Taehyung wants to touch Jimin. The whole time he was drawing, the only thing he could think about was touching his soft skin like how the pencil touched the paper. The way it left marks, Taehyung wanted to do that too. He wanted to run his fingers through Jimin’s blonde tousled hair and let his thumb graze over his plump lips. Taehyung wants to feel everything, yet given the chance to, he tenses up and his soul leaves his body, never to be seen again.

“Please, Taehyung.”

This isn’t exactly a beg or a plead...it’s more of a command. Nothing harsh. Just a simple quiet command that Jimin wants Taehyung to follow. So he finally does. At first, Taehyung caresses Jimin’s cheek, and he smiles when Jimin’s warm skin comes in contact with his hand. It’s extremely soft, just like he knew it would be. Jimin seems a little surprised that Taehyung went for something less intimate first. Taehyung would like to be intimate but...doing that right away doesn’t feel right. He wants to soak up all of Jimin’s beauty. All of his flaws and imperfections, his loving soul, and everything in between. Whatever is Jimin, Taehyung wants it.

Taehyung continues to let his fingers drag across Jimin’s skin, and by this time, Jimin has closed his eyes. He finds the soft touches relaxing, as would anyone else. But Taehyung isn’t trying to relax him. He’s trying to feel the curves and edges, the rounder portions, and the more defined parts of Jimin’s face. He lets his fingers slide along Jimin’s jawline but when his thumb brushes over his plump lips, Taehyung stops. Jimin opens his eyes to see why Taehyung stopped so suddenly, especially at a place like his lips. But then Taehyung pulls his hand away and Jimin starts to think he did something.

“I-I’m sorry, did I do something?”

Taehyung is practically lost in Jimin’s eyes as he shakes his head slowly, “No.”

Jimin waits for Taehyung to say more but nothing comes. He then notices that Taehyung’s eyes are switching between Jimin’s eyes and lips.

Jimin pushes away the thoughts of how bad this could end up and goes for it. He leans forward and Taehyung swears the world stops when their lips meet. It’s like fireworks on the Fourth of July, firing off in his heart, and on his lips. He’s sure he can feel his lips buzz against Jimin’s warm ones. It’s...heaven.

When Jimin tries to pull away, Taehyung stops him by grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him closer. Jimin doesn’t complain or protest, especially with the way Taehyung smoothly slips his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, and the way his fingers tangle through his hair, just like he imagined. Although Taehyung absolutely loves the feel of Jimin’s lips, he wants to feel everything else. When his lips move away, Jimin almost whines but the whine is quickly turned into a soft moan when Taehyung starts to kiss his neck. His lips move slowly along Jimin’s jawline and down to the softer parts of his neck where he nips softly.

Jimin is now pulling Taehyung down on top of him so that he's sitting on Jimin's thighs. When Taehyung leans forward to trace his tongue along Jimin’s collarbones, his erection rubs against Jimin’s and it makes him whimper. Taehyung not only realizes that Jimin is now just as hard as him, but that he needs to get these jeans off before he lights on fire.

When Taehyung stands up, Jimin almost looks frightened, like he's afraid Taehyung was about to leave.

“Tae?”

“I'm sorry, I just need to get these off,” Taehyung grunts, undoing his jeans as fast as he can. He was planning to leave his boxers on for now but Jimin suggests that he takes them off now.

Back to it, Taehyung is hovering above Jimin, kissing him deeply and holy shit, when their cocks accidentally rub against each other, an idea comes into Taehyung mind. A way to pleasure them both at once.

Taehyung leaves Jimin’s warm lips, trying to catch his breath, “Can I try something?”

“Anything.” The way Jimin says it, it almost sounds like a plea. His cheeks are flushed and he's breathing heavily, making Taehyung wish he could draw him like this. All hot and flustered. But at the same time, drawing is not on his mind.

“Sit up.”

Jimin obeys, and Taehyung sits down on his thighs again. Jimin staring down at the suddenly closeness of their members to each other, or maybe being self-conscious about himself. Taehyung doesn't understand that. Jimin is perfect.

Taehyung's hands move under Jimin’s sides, and to the front of his chest, moving back down to his navel, and to the trail of hair that leads farther down. He finds it extremely hot.

Jimin meets Taehyung’s eyes, which are practically screaming for more.

“This will probably feel weird at first,” Taehyung says, reaching over to grab the very ‘convenient’ bottle of lotion. He gets some into his hand and rubs it in a bit. Jimin is furrowing his brow, looking cutely impatient, as he watches Taehyung's actions. But now Jimin is the one to choke on his breath when Taehyung grabs his member and presses it against his own.

“T-tae-”

“Shh,” Taehyung soothes, as his large hand wraps around their cocks. He was right. It does feel weird. He hasn't exactly jacked off another person at the same time as himself. But he starts with slow pumps, trying to get the both of them as comfortable as possible.

Jimin’s whimpers are throwing Taehyung off as he tries to concentrate on pleasuring not only himself, but Jimin as well. He guesses it's working because Jimin is whimpering and hiding back moans, while Taehyung is breathing heavily, trying not to moan either. That’s until he starts moving faster, flicking his wrist quickly. Jimin leans forward and presses his forehead against Taehyung’s shoulder, and when he reaches down to help, Taehyung suddenly wants to fall apart. He chokes on a moan, and he lets his chin rest on the top of Jimin’s head. Both of their hands move at the same speed and Taehyung feels the heat rushing through him. He wants to pull back because he knows he’s going to cum, but under Jimin’s hand, he doesn’t want to move.

Taehyung wants to fall apart while staring into Jimin’s eyes. So, with his free hand, he grabs Jimin’s chin and makes their eyes meet. Jimin lets out a shuttered breath, and thankfully he gazes right back at Taehyung.

“I can’t- oh god” Jimin mewls, biting his lip. Taehyung wants to pull his teeth away from his precious lips but he can’t. He’s stuck staring into Jimin’s eyes as they simultaneously cum together. Jimin’s eyes roll back a bit and Taehyung swears he can see a bright white light. Both of them are gasping for air. Jimin pulls away and collapses onto the bed. With the both of them, they’ve made quite a mess. Taehyung has never experienced having another guy’s cum on his hand and stomach, and it definitely feels weird, but it’s somewhat nice. It’s proof that he could manage to pleasure Jimin and himself.

Taehyung presses his palms into the mattress as he tries to gain back his composure.

“That was…”

Taehyung glances up to see Jimin staring at the ceiling, cum on his stomach as well, but obviously he doesn’t care.

“Amazing…” Jimin finishes. He looks at Taehyung and smiles. “Best thing ever?”

“There is still more to do,” Taehyung says, but he really didn’t mean anything by it. It wasn’t trying to make a plan for Jimin to come do this again. Taehyung thought this was probably a one time thing.

“Well,” Jimin says, sitting up, “there’s always a next time.”  

“N-next time?”

Jimin nods and stands up, grabbing a towel from the bathroom. He wipes himself off and proceeds to help Taehyung clean up as well. He has this devilish smile on his face as he tosses the towel to the side and starts putting his clothes back on.

“You’re mine now.”

-Tae

[katie-dub]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: The Sweater Curse

I once read a thing about the Sweater Curse, which says that if you knit a sweater for your significant other, they’ll break up with you. So obviously I turned this into a Christmas CS AU and what happens when Emma makes Neal an ugly Christmas jumper.

AO3

The Sweater Curse

“Fuck Neal Cassidy,” announced Emma for approximately the thousandth time that night. “Fuck him, and fuck romance, and fuck love.”

Bleary-eyed she reached for her glass, noting with surprise that she had already finished her drink. She looked around for the bottle that had apparently vanished. “Where'd the rum go?”

“Don't you think it's time to switch to water?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma turned to her, eyes flashing fire. Possibly. She was quite drunk and it was hard to focus on her friend. She knew that her endlessly hopeful friend was merely trying to look out for her, but it really wasn't the time.

“Mary Margaret. I just spent the day in jail because the man I love -” her heart wrenched at the word “- loved tried to set me up for his crime. If it weren't for your step-sister’s superior legal skills, I would likely still be there.” I should send Regina some thank you flowers or something, came the fleeting thought that Emma hoped she’d remember in the morning. “I will never have had enough rum.”

“I still think there must have been some mistake…”

“He gave me a stolen watch, hid the rest of his stash in my locker at work, and called the police to tip them off. The only mistake was that I thought he was a good man.” Emma choked back a sob and Mary Margaret pulled her in for a hug.

“This is going down in history as the worst Christmas ever,” she muttered into her friend's shoulder. “I gave Neal the ultimate ugly Christmas sweater that I slaved over because for some reason he loves the damn things. He gave me a stolen watch and a one-way ticket to jail.”

“The sweater curse,” Mary Margaret breathed in horrified awe pulling back to look at Emma with unwarranted fear in her eyes.

Emma wanted to roll her eyes, but didn’t have enough coordination to do it. She settled for what she hoped was an exasperated glare - although, as they were two of Mary Margaret as far as she was concerned, it was unlikely that her friend got the full effect.

But, seriously? The pair had signed up for a knitting class at the start of the year and having both taken to the craft surprisingly well, they’d decided to make the men in their lives sweaters. (Mary Margaret’s was going to be a soft, cosy and above all, tasteful one for David, Emma was creating a monstrous ugly Christmas jumper out of sparkly wool because she was classy as fuck.)

A classmate upon hearing about this warned them of a legendary sweater curse. If you make your significant other a sweater, you’re doomed to break up, or something. They had treated it with the absolute contempt it deserved and laughed at it - Mary Margaret because she was too full of romance and optimism, Emma just wasn’t one to take superstitious bullshit seriously.

“There’s no curse Ms - he’s just a massive dick.”

“Still… I might not give that sweater to David after all.”

Emma shrugged and looked around the room for the missing rum. “Up to you, although I doubt a sweater could come between you and your Prince Charming.” She spotted it over on the kitchen counter and stumbled over to claim the bottle. “Now, no more talk of boyfriends or sweaters, it’s time for more drinking!”

One year later

Emma was gazing around the room at the Nolans’ “Merry Everything!” party trying to find anyone that she might know. She had no idea that this many people even lived in Storybrooke, and frankly she was a little convinced that Mary Margaret must have used actual magic to fit this many of the town’s residents into her house. The only familiar face that she’d seen so far had been Leroy - but she quickly looked away, not really wanting to hear an alcohol-fuelled rant from the grumpy man.

And that’s when she spotted him: a dark-haired, handsome man who turned Emma into a breathless, tongue-tied, weak-kneed walking cliche.

He was gazing at Belle, nodding along to her words with intense interest and Emma thought she might actually kill - or at least mildly wound someone - to have him look at her like that. Then Belle said something that had him throwing back his head with laughter and his entire face lit up with sheer joy, somehow making him look impossibly more beautiful still.

Emma was moving towards him before she even realised it.

“Hi Belle, long time no see!” Emma cringed at how false she sounded. She felt like she had “no, seriously, I’m only interested in an introduction to your hot friend, I don’t care about your life” written all over her face. It’s not like that was entirely true - yeah, she wanted to meet the guy, but she genuinely did like Belle and it had been a long time.

“Emma!” Belle replied with a wide smile, throwing her arms around Emma, who breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to see you here, how have you been?” There was a gruff cough from the hot guy that had Belle rolling her eyes and gesturing towards him. “Emma, have you met Killian?”

“No I haven’t,” Emma said turning to him and extending her hand. “Nice to meet you, Killian.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Emma,” Killian replied with a grin, shaking her hand and Emma stared transfixed. He was British, because he wasn’t already hot enough. She needed help. She looked towards Belle, who was already melting into the crowd. Emma could swear she saw her mouthing “be good” to Killian.

Be cool, Swan, you can talk to a hot guy. You’ve done it before.

She turned back to Killian. The first thing she noticed wasn’t the hint of mischief in his eyes, or the perfect scruff on his jaw or the artfully arranged hair that was just begging to be messed up in the throes of passion. It was his sweater. His very familiar sweater.

It was a black jumper with a fuzzy, sparkly and very wonky Christmas tree in the middle of it. An obscene number of sequins in garish shades of neon had been hand stitched to the tree and it was completed with a glittery star patch that had been sewn to the top. It was the fucking sweater that she lovingly made and gave to Neal the day before he left her.

“Where did you get that sweater?” she asked in a dumbstruck whisper.

His eyes lit up. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked, sounded slightly awed. “I found it at goodwill -  I think it was actually handmade.”

“It was,” Emma whispered, but he didn’t seem to hear.

“Can you believe that someone gave away something this perfect? What a crime to not treasure it forever.”

Emma knew that he was talking about the sweater, but something about his words hit home and to her horror, she burst into tears. His face fell and he scratched awkwardly behind his ear, he opened his mouth, but Emma backed away and ran before he could say anything.

She hid in the bathroom, struggling to calm herself down. So she freaked out about the sweater, big deal, it’s not like giving away her gift was the worst thing that Neal had done to her. But somehow her reaction to seeing it felt like an indictment against her even attempting to move on.

You thought a year was enough time to recover from that heartbreak? Think how badly this man could treat you. Don’t let his pretty face trick you into thinking he’ll be any different.

She was angry at her own stupid anxieties. She had met a genuinely beautiful man and she had run away to hide from him because of a goddamn piece of knitwear.

Who does that? A sad and pathetic loser who isn’t worthy of a Greek God like him. Neal had the right idea trying to lock you away, nobody should have to deal with you. You’re nothing.

She squared her shoulders and stared into the mirror with a fierce glare. “I’m not nothing,” she told her own reflection.

And when she thought about it, hadn’t that man called her handiwork “perfect”? Neal had barely mustered a smile when he opened it, simply calling it “nice”. Clearly Neal was the one who wasn’t worthy of her. But maybe this Killian could be.

She wiped her eyes and applied some fresh lipstick. She was going to find Killian and she was going to kiss the living daylights out of him.

She threw open the bathroom door - and walked straight into Killian.

“Oh shit!” “Sorry, love!” They spoke at once and all Emma’s confidence melted away at once again looking like a complete fool in front of him. He took a step back.

“I hope you don’t mind that I waited for you?” he asked cautiously, scratching behind his ear. “I wanted to make sure that you were ok?”

Is he for real? Emma thought gaping at him.

“Oh… yeah. It’s just your sweater, well, I made it and -”

“You made this masterpiece?!” Killian exclaimed. “Wait, sorry, not the point of the story, was it?”

Emma laughed in spite of herself. “Well, let’s just say that clearly the recipient didn’t think of much of it as you do.”

“Then they’re a bloody fool, whoever they are.”

Emma couldn’t help but chuff with pride at his words. She glanced up - and noticed the mistletoe hanging above him. She didn’t let herself think twice, she just acted, grabbing hold of his sweater and pulling his lips down to hers.

He kissed her enthusiastically and passionately, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight against him. When they finally parted for air he looked at her with awe. “That was -” he gasped, overcome.

“Just the beginning,” she promised, moving back to kiss him again. After all, this guy clearly understood the value of having an Emma Swan original in his life - maybe he was worthy of getting a chance.

The next year when Emma arrived at the Nolan’s “Merry Everything!” party she was wearing an ugly sweater that she had made especially for the occasion. Well, she wanted one to match the one she’d made for her fiance, Killian, that he was wearing with pride. And she couldn’t have been happier.