love those socks

feministevan  asked:

Ok so: headcanon that before Jared and Evan got close, Jared secretly really liked watching Bob Ross. It calms him down when everything is too overwhelming, etc. When they become real friends, Evan finds out and is like "omg I also love bob Ross let's watch it on Netflix" and that becomes like a bonding thing for them and they like cuddle and shit and it calms them both down and it's like a thing™ (bonus if their first kiss is when they wake up cuddling after a night of binging it on Netflix)

i……..am…….blessed and amazed by this ask, truly. honestly. i’m. i love them, and their joint love of bob ross, thank you for bringing this beautiful headcanon to my attention

i do wanna say tho shoutout to james gunn for pretty consistently posting pics of the entire creative process behind gotg bc like otherwise i would have never learned that movie rehearsals happen in empty gymnasiums with a bunch of a-list actors who look like they literally just rolled out of bed

You can’t just ask for Edd in cute pink clothing and not expect me to draw it, @tord-larssin. Let him be cute, you cowards.

Power Play

A/N: Mild swearing. Also, two things: this is the first time I’ve written a smut like this so I’m sorry if this is off and, anon, I hope you agree that Heechul is a kinky dude because that’s how I wrote him.
Word Count: 3.3K


    The corset that molds to your torso like a sleek second skin makes you more aware of your quickened breathing. Pins that hold your hair in a neat bun on the top of your head remind you to keep your posture straight and lady-like. Tulle prickles the back of your thighs where it pokes through the short silk slip as you shift from one heel-clad foot to another outside the door. His bedroom door.

           You want to make him proud, to please him, but your normal confidence is hiding back under your bed. This is your first time doing something like this and you don’t want to mess it up. He would be very disappointed.

           Before you can chicken out, you knock. Your quick taps mimic the rabbit’s nervous heartbeat in your chest.

           It triples when his voice comes through the door. “Come in.”

           The room is almost unchanged since you last entered it. White bookshelves of various heights, lacking cluttering knickknacks, line all the walls except for the one with a wide window, its blinds drawn. A large bed with a navy comforter and fluffed ice blue pillows dominates the single empty corner, mirroring the lighter blue walls. The only new addition is in the center of the room: a high-backed chair made of butter smooth black leather that faces away from you.

           Without letting you see his face, he says, “You may begin.”

           Remembering the appropriate response, you murmur, “Yes, sir.” You do not meet his eyes even though you feel them instantly glued to you when you move into view.

           The work isn’t hard or attention-demanding, but you draw each movement out, giving him time to appreciate every inch of you.

Barely a speck of dust blights the many DVD cases and framed photographs of him and other famous colleagues. He outshines each of them. Deliberately placed on the shelves are many trophies, some broadcasting their importance with ornate gold curves while others rely on simplicity for their dignity. Pride warms your chest as your feather duster glides over them. He has accomplished so much before you even met him and you can only foresee more greatness coming his way.

           You unconsciously pout when you get to one of the taller bookcases. Even in your heels, you have to stretch to reach the top shelves and your contents. Your skirt rides up past the bottom of your barely-there silk panties. You shiver. Not from the chill of the air conditioner, but from the increased heat of his stare on your exposed skin.

           “My footstool needs dusting as well,” he says suddenly.

           “Yes, sir.”

           Keeping your eyes on the cream-colored carpet, you turn around, kneel, and lean over more than necessary to give him an unencumbered view of your lace-framed cleavage, pushed up by the corset to look even more generous. The muffled drag of his feet sliding back and his shadow that falls over you tells you he enjoys the view.

           You risk a quick glance forward and freeze. The lumpiest, ugliest pair of decrepit gray socks you’ve ever seen in your life are on his feet. Half curious, half dismayed, you look up fully and burst out laughing, falling on your butt in the process.

           “Come on, babe,” Heechul whines, throwing himself back into the chair. “You’re ruining the mood.”

           “Sorry,” you say, but you know he can tell you don’t really mean it from your giggling. There’s really no way you can stop. Heechul pulled out all the stops for this role. The garishly colored smoking jacket covered in Persian paisleys is too much. “I love you, but those socks must be from World War I and it looks like you’re wearing my grandmother’s fake antique carpet. And where the hell did you find a tobacco pipe?”

           Your boyfriend shrugs, refusing to look at you while you’re mocking his fashion choices. “S.M’s prop-room. They’re like a giant pack-rat. They’ll never notice it’s gone. I wanted to do this right, you know? I think I look good.”

           Heechul strikes an impressive, brooding pose, his hair falling over his dark eyes. His hot, intent gaze alone sends that scalding, rollercoaster drop buzz down to the depths of your stomach. The jacket’s ties slip to his sides. Midnight black and starch white look almost puritan beside the gaudy colors, but the suit is every much sexy as the jacket is ridiculous. Now this, this is a clothing choice you can go for. The exceptional present that is Heechul in a suit has your tongue darting out to lick your lips.

           You notice his eyes turn a shade darker at the movement and smile to yourself. It won’t take long to soothe his pride. “You do look the part of the master of the house.”

           “I know.” Heechul’s eyes sweep over you and he shifts in his chair, a hand coming to cover the front of his pants. “You look even sexier in that maid costume. Your music video didn’t do you justice.”

           “I know,” you sigh. “I thought the nurse outfit was cuter, but the director insisted I use this one.”

           His eyes light up. “Do you think you could find-”

           You raise a hand. “Heechul, one fantasy at a time, please.”

He’d had to talk, bribe, and beg you for months into trying this kink of his out. You aren’t even sure if it’ll work for you, but you do love Heechul, and, with your busy life as an idol, letting someone else take complete control isn’t exactly new. Besides, after a couple years of dating, you trust him completely to never leave you unsatisfied in bed.

“Fine,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and looking away again.

You chuckle to yourself, but let a demure, meek expression settle onto your face. Scooting closer, you set aside your feather duster and lightly place your hands on Heechul’s thigh. You stroke your fingers back and forth against his inner thigh naughtily, even though your words and tone are the very picture of submission. “I promise I will try to please you as much as I can during this encounter, Master.”

A wicked smile flashes on Heechul’s mouth before he too falls back into the role. A glimmer of a lusty amusement lingers in his eyes. “As you should. Now, come here.” He pulls his legs together and pats his lap.

Think of it as an acting part, you tell yourself as you gently sink onto his legs and gracefully fold your hands. It’s not without some pride that you feel him already half hard against your thigh. You must look better than you thought. You interlock your fingers to resist helping him the rest of the way because although you love making Heechul moan and whimper with your hands alone, that was one of the rules he’d established beforehand.

No touching unless he initiates it or gives you permission.

It’s going to be a long night.

Heechul puts one hand over yours as if to remind you of the rule, though when the other slips beneath them to slowly rub your inner thighs, you suspect it’s to tease you as well. He clears his throat and smiles. “You’ve done such a good job cleaning, Master’s going to give you a little reward. Would you like that?”

You bite back a sarcastic reply and nod.

“First, we need to fix this. I like your hair better when it’s down.” He plucks with pins from your bun with practiced ease and finger-combs your loose hair to exactly where he wants it. Heechul taps under your chin, turning your head this way and that to admire his work. “Yes. Beautiful.”

You keep your pleasure at the compliment to yourself. When they come from Heechul, you know they’re genuine and not the normal fawning you hear.

“And you should be sitting like this.” Heechul’s fingers slide beneath your thigh and get it a quick pinch before yanking your leg over his so your knees straddle his hips, your hips hovering just above.

The sudden change of position steals your balance so you fall forward. Your hands naturally come up to catch yourself. Instead of glossy leather, your hands close around solid shoulders, warm through the suit’s fabric.

Heechul raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to move, but you don’t dare. You’d agreed there would be consequences for disobeying his rules, but not what they would be. And Heechul can be very creative.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You hesitantly lean backward and peel your fingers away from his shoulders.

“No.” But he catches your wrists and pushes your hands back to where they were. Offering a playful smile, he explains, “I like this better.”

Something less benign lurks beneath that smile. You do trust Heechul, but maybe you will have to use your safe word tonight. Deciding to ere on the side of caution, you docilely nod.

Heechul trails the back of his knuckles against your cheek, down your neck, until his fingers tickle the bottom of your dress’ neckline. Like a cat flicking its tail before it pounces, they go back and forth, occasionally dipping into the small valley between your breasts but never further. The teasing caresses are a siren whispering for you to lean forward, to let his fingers touch more sensitive areas.

As you’re about to demand he do just that, he softly says, “Now, pet, do you remember my rule about touching?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I forgave you the first time, but next time I may have to remind you a bit more directly. Do you remember my rule about talking?” Without warning, his fingers slide beneath lace and silk to tweak your nipple.

You gasp at the jolt of delightful second pain. “Yes, sir.”

“Tell me.”

“I am not-” your voice breaks off into a whimper as he does the same thing to your other nipple, “I am not to speak unless you ask a question, but I am not to muffle any sounds of pleasure.”

“Yes. You are perfect for me, aren’t you?” Heechul purrs, holding your eyes with his until he plunges his face into your neck and his hands fall to grip your waist.

Each press of his moist lips triggers shivers through your body that run straight down to between your legs. You close your eyes, low, appreciative moans rolling off your tongue as your hands tighten and release with each kiss. Still, you’re careful to keep your body separate from his.

When Heechul nips harshly at your shoulder, your response is automatic, “Heechul, what the fuck? I have a photoshoot tomorrow morning! I can’t have hickies.”

The kisses still. Instantly, you realize your mistake. But it’s too late to take it back.

An unexpected thrill bolts through your nerves when Heechul lifts his head, his expression dark and stony. “What was that?” he growls.

You scramble for some kind of excuse. “Um, I said- I said please don’t mark me, sir. I have work tomorrow-”

He cuts you off. “That wasn’t what I heard.”

“Sir-”

“No, you talked out of turn. That’s your second transgression.” One of Heechul’s hands slips from your waist down to your bottom, pushing aside superfluous fabric. It strokes the soft skin there before drawing away to deliver an unforgiving smack. You whimper again, surprised at the excited jump of arousal you feel. “Are you going to have a third?”

“No, sir,” you splutter, shaking your head violently.

“Good, pet. Remember that.”

You feel the snap of the buttons at your back pop in rapid succession. The next second, the top of your dress droops around the top of the corset like flower petals. Another quick tug pulls the corset down so your breasts plump free over them.

“Shit,” Heechul breathes. His hands cup your breasts, rubbing the delicate flower-patterned lace between his fingers. The subtle pull across the tender skin on the underside of your breasts and nipples has you breathing deeper to control yourself. “Did these come with the outfit?”

“No. I chose them myself for you, sir,” you sigh.

His breath fans across your chest as he lowers his face. “So good to me, beautiful.” He darts out his tongue to lick a strip across the top of your breasts and blows on it. The chill raises goosebumps on your skin, a contrast to the rising warmth of your skin.

When Heechul’s mouth dips lower, he gives your soft skin another quick bite. You know he’s trying to get another rise out of you, but the only thing you let fall from your lips is a breathy moan. Needing no other encouragement, Heechul nudges aside your bra and feasts. His hands knead your bottom relentlessly, but never allow you to touch him. The endless sounds that rub your throat raw only make him tease you more and more, take more and more.

Your knees start to tremble from holding yourself up and the flood of need overwhelming your senses. Heechul must feel it because he abruptly hauls you all the way down onto his lap. You shriek, both in surprise and in ecstasy as you land at just the right angle on his clothed length that’s stiff with want.

“You want more of that?” he murmurs darkly in your ear. He nips at your earlobe as he pushes you further down on top of him and rocks you back and forth. “Fuck, you’re absolutely soaked. I can feel it. Do you want me inside you that badly, pretty girl?”

You swivel your hips, the friction nearly unbearable after having no relief. “Yes, please. Please, sir,” you plead, biting your lip in your best pout. At this point, you’re not above begging.

“Then get on your knees.” He pushes you off his lap and the chair. “There’s a condom in my jacket pocket. Get it.”

The change has you frozen, stunned for a moment. Then you take a closer look at his face. Although his actions carry all the haughtiness of a noble, his pupils dominate his eyes. He is just as affected as you. With shaking hands that get in each other’s way, you dig through the deep pockets. The condom slips through your fingers to the floor when you find it.

Heechul waits until you’ve ripped it open to command, “Put it on me.”

You can’t resist the opportunity to return his teasing. With wide, innocent eyes, you tap your lower lip and ask, “I can touch you then, sir?”

He rolls his eyes because he knows exactly what you’re doing. “Yes,” he groans, tilting his head back against the chair and closing his eyes.

Fitting yourself between his knees, you decide to take the game into your hands. Figuratively. The way Heechul’s body jerks when he feels your warm mouth instead of your fingers on his pants has you smirking. It takes some finesse, but you manage to undo the button and pull the zipper down.

As you nuzzle your way back up to grip the waistband of his boxers in your teeth, Heechul sighs and slides a hand in your hair, pulling gently. “I forgot how skilled that gorgeous little mouth of yours is. If I didn’t want you so much, I might have you finish me off with it.”

You smugly tuck the compliment away and purr in satisfaction when he springs free. You almost wish you could indulge him, but you want to be selfish now. Your swollen clit is throbbing with the loss of stimulation, insistently demanding release.

It only takes a few seconds to roll the condom on. On impulse, you lick the entire underside of his length, flattening your tongue so he jumps against your lips.

When you get to his head, Heechul’s hand flies up to grip your chin harshly. Not enough to cause any of kind of bruising, but so that you can’t move your head. Eyes completely black, he rasps, “None of those tricks or I’m going to come right now.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You put just enough sincerity in your voice to cover your devilish glee. “I just wanted you to feel good.”

“I’m about to, trust me. Get back up here.”

Unconcealed eagerness has you scrambling into his lap again. Heechul hisses and grits his teeth when your heat brushes him. You scarcely have time to settle your knees on the cushion before Heechul pushes aside your panties and pushes himself in. With absolutely no resistance, he slides in like silk

The pleasure is instant and devastating, all the waiting culminating absolute delight just from the feeling of being full. “Yes!” you cry, throwing back your head and digging your nails into Heechul’s shoulders.

He grunts, keeping still as he adjusts to your tight heat completely enveloping him. His thighs quiver beneath yours and sweat beads on his forehead. Even when you whine in impatience and try to rock your hips, he doesn’t move.

Huffing, you drag your hands into Heechul’s hair and yank his head back. His eyes open wide with shock before you crash your lips to his, lift yourself up, and slam your hips down.

Heechul’s vulgar groan rolls through your mouth and down your throat like the finest, most potent whiskey. It makes your head spin like you’re drunk, your only concern snatching that delicious high that’s just out of reach. Your hips roll and piston as you devour Heechul’s lush lips, your chest rubbing against his with sinful sensuality.

Nearing your end, that glorious inferno of senses, your movements grow sloppier, your mouths grow looser as your noises of pleasure grow louder.

“Fuck, Heechul,” you moan, “please.”

He knows exactly what you want and finally takes control, clutching your hips and thrusting up into with mindless speed. The tension in your core at last bursts into a million stars behind your eyes that enflame your every nerve, leaving you screaming in rapture. Heechul holds you steady even as you convulse, his breathing becoming faster as your walls squeeze around him. He’s so close.

“Baby boy,” you whisper, voice low with bliss, and brush his bangs from his face.

Without pausing, Heechul looks up at you, eyes hot and frantic.

Cradling his face, you kiss him softly and command, “Come for me.”

You can feel his entire body shudder beneath you as he finds his completion. He slumps backwards, taking you with him. A lazy, fucked-out smile forms on his panting mouth. You smile beatifically while slowly rocking your hips to guide him through his climax.

“I think you forgot,” Heechul sighs when he has breath and cracks open one eye, “who was in charge.”

“I don’t think you minded.” You smirk and slide off him to dispose of the condom in the trashcan, making a little show of it by bending over too much. If he can be a tease, so can you. You adjust your straps and look over your shoulder at him. Wickedness drips from your voice as you suggest with a wink, “But if you want, you can punish me for it.”

He laughs, gladly wrapping his arms around you when you return to his lap. “That would require moving.”

“Lazy.”

“If you want to see your boyfriend a collapsed mess on the ground, keep talking.”

Giggling, you bury your face in his chest. Hot and sweaty as you both are, you like the intimacy too much to care. “You know, I think I wouldn’t say no to doing this again.”

Heechul’s cheek presses into the top of your head with his grin. “Really?”

“Yes.” Sitting up, you tap his nose. “But next time, it’ll be my fantasy.”

He wrinkles his nose, but curiosity and readiness light up his face. “Yes, Mistress,” he says impishly.

The word sends a little shiver down your spine despite sleepiness setting in. “I think I could get used to that title, but I’m thinking of something else.”

“What?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, love. But I promise, it’ll be good.”