#Corey is a switch

[vanweezer]

"what's your favorite memory with joey jordison?" - insp - id in alt text

this was supposed to post on the anniversary of joey's passing, except i forgot to finish it before then and didnt have a chance to edit it the way i wanted until now. genuinely one of my favorite slipknot related stories corey's ever told, and it's always interested me that this is one of his 'favorite memories'. i know it's far out from the anniversary, but rest in power to this absolute scamp of a guy 🫶 we miss you joey

[1-aussiedollar]

[corvids-corner]

uhoh guys looks like i drank the potion that turns you dog 🫢 who also has wings bc uhhh wings are cool and awsome

[zukkaoru]

i am. love you. tehe.

oda & naomi + "you look very manly in this photo"

sigma & margaret + "that's it. i'm leaving"

fyodor & chuuya + "Because you’re not to step within a thousand feet of a Cinnabon, [name]"

lucy & gin + "i'm gonna kick your... HEAD"

kyouka & jun'ichirou + "umm, we just exploded a bus!"

ranpo & elise + "sit down, shut up, and i'll buy you a candy bar"

ango & chief taneda + "professor you are bald as hell"

hiiii beloved <333 umm okay obviously the oda & naomi one is beast au. and the fyodor and chuuya one is a no abilities au?? no other context though. also the gin & lucy one kind changed to gin/lucy bc uhhhh i'm a lesbian. thank u

“You look very manly in this photo,” Naomi muses. Oda looks up to find her holding a photograph of Kunikida, taken from a security camera during his most recent mission. Kunikida, of course, ignores her. “Let me see,” Oda says. Naomi hands him the picture and he looks it over before nodding in agreement, just to see if he can draw out a better reaction. “I agree, Naomi-chan. It’s a good photo—very manly. Only thing I’d change is the glasses. He could go for something sexier.” Naomi snorts. Kunikida’s brow furrows. “My glasses are perfectly fine. I would appreciate it if you would stop gossiping about me while I am right here, trying to work.” Naomi rolls her eyes, and Oda bites back a snicker as he passes the picture back over.

-

“That’s it.” Margaret slams her hands on the table, standing up. “I’m leaving!”

As she goes, Sigma eyes the spread of cards warily. There’s no way this wasn’t stacked, though they’d assured Lucy wasn’t the one dealing, since she likes showing off her new illegal skills whenever possible. Apparently she isn’t the only (former) Guild member who can stack a deck of cards.

Sigma sighs. They stand too, heading to find Margaret. They tune out the background noise of Lucy yelling at Mark and John while Louisa tries to calm her down.

When they find Margaret, she’s standing with her back against the wall, arms folded over her chest. She huffs. “I know they’re cheating so I’ll lose.”

Sigma purses their lips. “You’re probably right. …But they aren’t the only ones who know how to cheat at card games. …I could help you get a little revenge?”

Slowly, a smile spreads across Margaret’s face.

-

Chuuya grabs Fyodor by the back of his jacket, preventing him from taking even one more step.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Chuuya sighs. “You are not to step within one thousand feet of a Cinnabon. Your partners were very specific. If I have to babysit you, I don’t want you getting high off cinnamon or whatever the hell you did to make them give me that warning.” They begin walking in the opposite direction of the mall, dragging Fyodor behind them. They don’t know how they let Dazai talk them into agreeing to this.

“I have done no such thing.”

“Full offense, but I don’t believe you. Now pick up your feet or we’re going to be late. Sigma is waiting for us and she deals with enough shit just having to be friends with you.”

-

“I’m gonna kick your…HEAD!” Lucy exclaims.

Gin raises their eyebrows, clearly calling into question Lucy’s ability to follow through with her threat. Which only serves to fan the flame of anger burning bright in Lucy’s chest. Stupid Gin and their stupid piercing gaze and perfect looks and nimble fingers and Lucy hates that they probably could kick her head, if they tried. It’s infuriating. Gin is infuriating.

“I could do it!” Lucy argues. “You’re not that tall! I could get my leg all the way up there! Just watch!”

Lucy kicks, and while she does come close, Gin easily evades her foot. They dodge effortlessly, and in one swift movement, they’ve got Lucy pinned against the wall with one arm against her throat. Their eyes seem to stare into Lucy’s soul, grey like swirling storm clouds.

Lucy swallows thickly, her gaze dropping to where Gin’s mouth is covered by their mask.

Shit.

-

“Um…” Jun’ichirou swallows nervously. “We just exploded a bus.”

“Yes,” Kyouka agrees. Her tone is far too calm for their current situation. The remains of said bus are still smoldering before them, and they’re lucky everyone else managed to escape in time.

“After being attacked by demon triplet ability users.”

“Yes,” Kyouka repeats. She sheaths her knife.

Jun’ichirou stares hopelessly at the smoke wafting into the sky. He’s already imagining the damage report he’s going to have to complete once this case is wrapped up, and they’ve barely even started it. The ability users got away, and Jun’ichirou has no idea which direction they even escaped in, and when he and Kyouka were assigned this case, they weren’t even aware there were ability users involved!

He sighs. It’s going to be a long day.

-

“Sit down and shut up!” Ranpo snaps. They are at the end of their rope, and if Elise doesn’t chill out in the next two seconds, he’s going to attempt murder. “If you do, I’ll buy you a candy bar.”

Elise stops her singing and dancing immediately. “Really?”

“Yes! Just— Stop being so annoying!”

Elise sits down obediently. “Okay. I want my candy bar now.”

“I can’t go buy it while I’m babysitting.”

She glares at him for a moment, and then starts singing again, even louder than last time. It hurts Ranpo’s ears and his head and God why is she like this?! If Mori can make her behave however he wants, why is she literally the worst person on earth?!

“FINE!” Ranpo shouts. He marches over to where his stash of snacks is, grabs the first candy bar he sees, and throws it at Elise. “Now be quiet!”

Elise grins smugly as she begins unwrapping the candy.

-

“Professor,” Ango says, the word slurring with sleep as it falls from his lips. Taneda looks over at him, unsurprised to see he’s nearly started dozing at his desk. What does surprise him, however, is that Ango meets his gaze and finishes his sentence with, “You are…bald as hell.”

“What?”

But Ango just hums absentmindedly before returning to his work. As if he’s said nothing out of the ordinary.

Taneda lifts a hand to his head, unsure if the comment should make him self-conscious or just concerned for Ango’s well-being. It’s certainly not something he would have said if he were in a sound state of mind, but a sleep-deprived Ango is often one who is unable to control his brain-to-mouth filter.

So, Taneda simply sighs and prepares himself for the battle that is convincing Ango to go home and rest.

[mikimeiko]

Starting Tiamat's Wrath: why is the prologue Holden? WHY IS THE PROLOGUE HOLDEN???

[radioattic]

corey hart - sunglasses at night

[biglisbonnews]

You Need to Play the Best Retro Puzzle Game on Nintendo Switch ASAP Nintendo Switch Online just added 'BurgerTime Deluxe' to its library, making for a delicious remix of the original 'Donkey Kong' game. https://www.inverse.com/gaming/burger-time-deluxe-nintendo-switch-online

[occamstfs]

Sticky Fingers

Junpei finds himself drawn to sneak an early peak at Arcadio Carvajal's new exhibition. When the chance to take a piece home presents itslef, he'll find himself a little more than changed from the experience.

My first sequel! Arcadio from Marichismo decides to take the chance to find a new assistant and lover! In other don't forget to vote on my Viral Transformation poll, ends Sunday! Otherwise enjoy this tale of muscle growth and otherwise masculine changes! -Occam

Junpei can’t believe that he somehow hadn’t heard about this art exhibition until just now. Like many a young thirsty gay across the country he does well to keep a tab on the illustrious (Read: Hot) work of Arcadio Carvajal. Many institutions are a little hesitant to host an artist whose name may well be synonymous with sexual provocateur but, with attendance numbers down across the board, even more museums are thrilled at the chance to host a man who almost magically draws in hordes of adoring patrons.

His latest exhibition on homoeroticism in popular culture is setting attendance records at just about every museum it stops at. Junpei was beyond thrilled when his friend Corey leaked that the gallery he works at was going to be hosting an exhibition of Arcadio’s starting tomorrow! Ignoring any concerns as to how odd it is that he’s not heard anything about the opening until the night before, Junpei grabs his backpack and makes for the gallery immediately, almost as if possessed. Something in his chest flutters with anticipation as he wanders the few blocks down to the hall where he’ll hopefully be able to sneak an early peek of some of the works on display. 

Making the trip down a few blocks with haste he finds  there’s surprisingly little activity at all in or around the gallery. Sure it’s after hours but the night before an opening, let alone an opening by an artist as impressive as Arcadio Carvajal? You’d think there would be some last minute prep work to be done. Skulking up to nonchalantly look through the front door, he puts his weight on it just as a little test. Just to see if it's locked, no overt plans as to what he would do with the information, he just wanted to know. Just wanted to see.

When the door gives, he can’t suppress the grin rising on his lips. In for a penny, he decides. Fighting to keep his expression guiltless he surreptitiously looks around to make sure no one’s watching the entrance before he sneaks into the dark hall. He tries to scheme up an alibi as he digs out his phone to use as a flashlight. Probably wouldn’t buy that he thought they were open. Could just say he was supposed to meet his friend here, though he’d hate for Corey to catch blowback. Junpei then rolls his eyes as he figures he could come up with something on the spot, if he’s even caught that is! Adrenaline keeps his conspiratorial mind from noticing he of course already has been, as the gallery’s cameras follow the young student into the exhibition hall holding Arcadio’s exciting exhibit.

The amateur intruder almost has a heart attack as he steps into the gallery proper and the lights flash on. Stumbling into a wall in shock, he ducks behind a display case and nervously scopes out the new space he finds himself in. After quietly ensuring that no one is actively here, Junpei chalks the lights up to be automatic and hastens his pace. Switching off his now unneeded flashlight, he starts scoping out the litany of artwork dedicated to the male form surrounding him.

His excitement eclipses whatever paltry dregs of anxiety or fear remain as he sees the works of incredibly influential artists gathered here. Junpei knew Arcadio was a titan but he could never have expected the prolific art that fills this place. First things first, as he enters he sees a diptych of the artist himself, under his breath he murmurs, “god he’s so fucking hot.” Somewhere out of sight surveillance footage shines onto a man watching him explore the gallery as he mischievously smirks.

On the student’s left are a wall of nudes and more softcore fare from artists across the ages. Mizers and Mapplethorpes hang floor to ceiling alongside more modern work by Arcadio and his own gay contemporaries. Near the far side there seems to be a whole section dedicated to portraiture of St. Sebastian but Junpei is less eager to explore the thorough history of homoerotic photography. Certainly a medium that has brought him endless pleasure, as it were, but they may as well just be prints to him. No, he wants to see the real stuff.

Wandering past some dozen miniature recreations of Michaelangelo’s David made of shining plasticine latex, some clad in leather, others in the buff as the artist intended, Junpei finds what he snuck in for. Spotlights shine down unto the wall opposite the photography, teeming with works from gay trailblazers of the art world. Namely the ones whose primary focus was on nothing but bulging fetishistic muscle and strong-jawed pretty boys. Those who crafted overt unapologetic pornography and others who snuck homoeroticism covertly to the masses. This is to say there is more work by Tom of Finland and Leyendecker than he could possibly appreciate in this brief time alone. 

He spends as long as he thinks he can just staring at the work. Drinking in the graphite scraped bulges and tight leather uniforms of the massive men drawn by the Finn. Reverberations from his work still echo into the art and lusty imaginations of countless gay men today. Indeed upon gracing dear Junpei’s eyes they immediately cause some mobility issues to arise. He struggles with his pants as he struggles to walk forward with a package that only surges harder with each fervent tug of his pants. His rising issue stops not as he moves on to observe the bright colors and hungry eyes of the men in Leyendecker’s advertisements. Masculine forms idealized and gleaming opposed with the raw heightened sex found in the work nearby. Junpei can barely control the desire coursing through him, but knowing he can’t stay forever the young man continues onward, biting his lip as he tries to will his boner away. 

Going through a curtain into a still darkened room, it takes a second for Junpei’s eyes to adjust before he sees a room dedicated to non-western homoeroticism. Finding aged Chinese scrolls of gay eroticism he snaps pictures, quite thankful that they are less visceral arousing than the work he just left behind, though he’s decidedly happy to see some shred of himself in the gallery. Turning around he gasps as he sees something he wasn’t quite expecting. Next to a wall of more deliberately pornographic bara men he sees panels from his favorite mangaka depicting bulging muscled men in provocative poses. But more thrilling than that, it seems the main sketch isn’t in a display case. It’s just sitting there, loose, free.

Junpei doesn’t know what came over him, he wasn’t even planning on coming in illicitly, but staring at the crisp art in front of him he cannot stop himself as he pulls a folder from his backpack. Before he can even issue a command to his body, the sketch is already in his bag and he’s sprinting away. The smirk of the man watching his every move grows wider as he watches Junpei clumsily flee the scene. Fleeing out the door into the dark streets, Junpei pushes past other students thoughtlessly as he races home, delirium setting in as struggles to understand and realize what he just did. Slamming his apartment door behind him he yoinks out the swiped art. He isn’t sure if it’s the image itself or the exhilaration from his crime but his only recently stilled cock begins to harden once more. 

Mind barely present what can he do but obey his rising erection. Junpei begins to masturbate, staring at his stolen artwork, panting as he quickly comes close; free hand moving thoughtlessly he feels it scrape against something taped to the back of the sketch. Eyebrows furrowing as he continues to beat his meat, Junpei turns the picture around and he instantly stops as his blood grows cold. “Evening Junpei. I know what you did. See you Soon. Yours, Arcadio Carvajal.” Junpei drops the drawing and it flutters to the floor, lying face down, leaving the note facing up at him. His mind escapes from whatever haze compelled him to commit larceny as his thoughts race faster than could possibly be productive. 

What do I do? I need to bring it back now. How did that note get there!? It certainly has my name on it, and it’s signed by Arcadio. Fear seizes him as he backs away from the stolen piece, tripping over the pants that had fallen around his ankles. In his scrambling he falls back and hits his head. Before he completely loses himself to unconsciousness he sees the picture purloined face up once more. Groaning as his vision begins to fade, his eyes latch onto his legs as searing pain slowly burns through him. Cresting into a trancelike state he mumbles incoherently as it almost seems like veins are bulging onto his thighs?

Perhaps unsurprising given the prominence of Arcadio in what lead him into this stupor, but as he’s truly overtaken Junpei sees the massive artist himself. The man’s arms are crossed but the expression on his face is not one of judgment or disdain at Junpei’s actions. Rather, to the best of the young man’s judgment, it looks like one of anticipation. Junpei tries to speak but finds his mouth dry up as the man across from him waves a finger, “Ah ah ah mi ladrónito. I believe you have something of mine.” The eponymous little thief pats himself down trying to dream his plunder into existence but produces naught. Arcadio pouts his lips but there is a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Well perrito. For your little transgression I think you owe me, si? Think I could use some more hands on deck to watch out for petty thieves, don’t you?” Arcadio’s expression loses all the performative animosity that remains as he looks at Junpei with glee and his intentions begin to suffuse the young man. Feeling his ability to speak return, Junpei opens his mouth but before he can produce a word he is wracked with burning pain from the artist's stare.

Beginning from his feet, clad in the cheap tennis shoes that he wore to his haphazard heist, heat sears the soles of his feet. At first it’s as if he’s standing on coals before simmering down to the pain of sprinting across a hot beach; finally it shifts to the pleasant warmth of a warm footbath. Pain swiftly gives way to pleasure as Junpei flexes his feet just to ensure he feels every sensation he can, only then does he feel his toes bump against the front of the small shoe, just as the bridge of his foot strains against the tongue. Junpei grunts as he hears stitches begin to give way, toes blasting through the cheap fabric while his soles rear through the sides and spill onto the floor as his feet totally eclipse the remains of his shoe.

Looking down at feet that may as well need clown shoes compared to the petit ones he’s always had, Junpei feels some new instinct in his mind. Almost like an intrusive thought, he feels a need to be brash, to spar with the man he so respects more than anything. Ignoring his usual nature he follows this instinct, it’s just a dream right? Fighting through the pain and pleasure still coursing through him, Junpei speaks up, “Grgh- What are you- Are you giving me a foot fetish or what?” Arcadio’s face lights with a smile as he hears the young man speak up with the slightest amount of acid on his tongue. With no words to betray his emotion at the seed of Junpei’s changing psyche he moves his eyes up to Junpei’s legs.

“Oh what the fu-” he’s unable to even finish the thought as his whole body convulses with the sensation of his legs lengthening before they start to pack on muscle. Shooting almost a foot higher, Junpei falls back on his ass as he clenches at his calves and thighs. His gaze follows Arcadio’s as the man stares at his tight calves, expanding with each pulse of the heart. Just like every other inch of Junpei’s body there’s initially little at all impressive, and then they flex larger, and then there's a bulge that will never leave, and then there is a calf that would inspire jealousy by any lesser men who glimpses it. More than baseballs, muscle bulges enough for even socks large enough for his massive feet would struggle to contain them. This is nothing however compared to the transformation moving upwards into his thighs. 

Veins bulge thick as power seeps upwards, burning warmth sears his hands as they clutch at the hocks of meat that now constitute his thighs. Junpei blushes as he sees new distinct masses bulge out of his once bony thighs. Staring down at his increasingly powerful lower body he is filled with determination to get them even larger. The need for power begins to wash over whatever ideals or needs the young man had before this dream. Seeing the thick veins clearly pump and bulge larger with each beat of his heart, Junpei traces them with his finger and bites his lip as Arcadio can’t help but stare at the growing package that demands attention from the both of them.

Arcadio is more than pleased to stare, each second spent lingering on the cock sends waves of pleasure through Junpei as his mind struggles to parse that his cock and balls are stretching larger by the second. Quickly surging higher and thicker, his dick eclipses the size its been at its most turgid erection before now and it still pushes further with each groping grasp and sweaty breath. Similarly, beneath it his balls hang lower and the few dark hairs that shade his groin grow thicker and curl longer as his heavy balls rapidly increase production of the hormones this increasingly massive body demands. He cannot help but thrust into the air, his thin arms struggling to support the power his thighs summon. Landing back on his ass it too bulges larger with every flexing movement, quickly regaining its position as the largest muscle on the body as it becomes a bubble butt that would entice even the least male-interested eyes.

Moving on, lest Junpei blow his load all over himself, Arcadio's eyes continue upward to begin the most impressive work yet. Junpei groans as he desperately needs a break from the overwhelming pleasure burning in his lower body. He drags his hands across his inner thigh,  feeling callouses scratch his sensitive sweaty skin before palming his cock to a spurt of pre before moving on. His fingers trace towards his torso as veins begin to trail upwards, crossing his abs as they bulge into existence.

His body involuntarily goes into a crunch as every powerful ab cramps, sending stabbing pain and searing pleasure through his mind. Drool flings out of his mouth as he launches forward moaning. Junpei’s rougher hands grab his beefy thighs to prevent himself from falling backwards once again. His eyes almost cross as he seemingly loses control of any unengaged motor function. Across from him Arcadio just smirks and watches as Junpei’s sweat soaked hair changes from the same unintentional look he’s had all his life into something far more deliberate and fashionable. Exactly what he would want in a body man.

Hearing the strained groans and hungrily looking to the ephemeral expression dancing across Junpei’s face, Arcadio hesitates before continuing. Feeling the briefest of pauses from otherworldly bliss, Junpei cries out, his voice rumbling deeper as he finds his neck has thickened, “Mrgh- Don’t stop boss. I want, more.” The artist’s lips twitch as he is more than happy to obey the thief’s desires. After all, it's about time to get to his favorite part. At the same time Junpei’s mind flickers to the massive pecs that he so enjoyed observing at the museum as he begins to feel building pressure, increasing potential, on his chest.

Summoning a laser focus, Arcadio stares at Junpei’s arms and currently non existent pecs. He has trouble ignoring the bulge dawning in his own pants as he sees Junpei’s stick thin arms begin to bulk up. Immediately his arms fly behind him as he rapidly alternates between stretching them and flexing. With each thrust away from his body into the air they lengthen, fingertips shoot longer as his palms widen. With every bulging flex veins are forced to protrude even further through his faultless skin. His biceps may as well be forged of cast iron as they become impossible to ignore, power courses through them as from now on even the smallest movement causes a medley of muscle to dance across his beastly arms.

In between his bulging biceps, above the cobblestone abs, underneath shoulders still widening and taps pushing against a shirt that barely holds on, his pecs finally begin to receive the attention they have always lacked. Junpei’s nipples increase from the dimesize they’ve ever held into half-dollar protrusions that will be impossible to hide under a shirt. Similarly, the measly pecs they stand strong on begin to grow at a rate more prominent than any change so far. 

The sound of Junpei’s shirt giving way to muscle he couldn’t truly fathom before now burgeoning onto his chest overwhelms him more than he could ever know. In the moment of them bursting larger than life, he feels himself let loose of whatever restraining fragments of his past self remain. He wasn’t sure what caused him to take the sketch from the gallery, but Arcadio knew he would. Arcadio Carvajal, his boss, clearly had more planned for him than Junpei ever could imagine. As his pecs bloat beyond reason and he feels his chest pulse with power does he give himself totally over to become the perfect, powerful man that not for a moment in his life he thought he could become. 

His body shines with sweat as he finally loses control, loosing load after load into the white dreamscape around him. He opens his mouth to cry Arcadio’s name but before a sound could release he finds his godly body pressing up against one of the few men he considers an equal. His new burning muscled form grinds against that of Arcadio. Getting his sweat all over his boss, his lover, his best friend, Junpei smirks in between labored breaths and slobbered kisses. Somehow feeling the scratch of Arcadio’s chest through his shirt the new body man can’t help but frot against the artist’s torso.

Shoving his bearded face into Junpei’s neck, which certainly doesn’t help matters, Arcadio moves his scratchy mouth to his lover’s ear and whispers, “Me esperas… See you soon mi amor.” Seeding desire more potent than anything, every bulging muscle clenches and forces itself larger one last time. Every inch of his impossibly large, inhumanly powerful new form sizzles with the capacity for more pleasure than could ever be bestowed upon him before. Junpei will evermore dominate any room he decides to grace. He will do so physically and intangibly with an aura that exudes strength and entices the appetites of all, though perhaps that due to constantly sweating through any clothing or deodorant he throws on within an hour. 

Feeling emptiness fill him as Arcadio disappears from his dream after whispering in his ear, the now massive man has no recourse besides willing himself to wake up. And so he does.

Junpei wakes up on the floor of the apartment he’s been renting with Arcadio in the leadup to their new exhibition, for some reason the back of his head is sore as if he hit it. Though that’s nothing compared to the soreness that absolutely fills every last inch of his body. The giant groans as he wills his titanic upper body to sit up and smirks as he sees the sweat he must have just worked up. Scratching his pits and struggling not to sniff his hand after, his head briefly filled with countless memories of Arcadio chiding his poor hygiene, he hesitates before noticing some expensive paper lying on the ground. 

Tilting his head and grabbing a nearby towel to wipe the sweat almost dripping from his hand, he takes great care to grab whatever this is without getting too much of himself on it. Turning it around he’s floored to see a sketch that’s supposed to be on the museum wall right now, worse than that it’s from an area that Arcadio has left to him! Taking no time at all to question how this possibly ended up here, Junpei puts it in one of Arcadio’s artsafe folders and sprints down the street to the gallery. 

For being the assistant of such a fastidious man, Junpei has a habit of letting things slip through the cracks, but Arcadio never minds. He knows in the end Junpei will always more than make up for it, always aiming to go above and beyond and, somehow, more often than not exceeding what Arcadio even thought was possible. Entering the gallery the behemoth switches into the closest thing to a sneak that he can muster, unfortunately his massive clumsy feet would always betray his presence. His lover smiles as he hears Junpei’s failed covert operation.

Standing in front of the frame that is supposed to hold the piece that Junpei is now overtly returning, he turns with a sly smirk to see the man doing his best impression of a cat burglar. Arcadio rolls his eyes and goes to grab the folder, lest his lover get his streaming sweat onto it and create an awkward situation with the mangaka. After depositing in where it belongs and shutting it into a plastic case that was conspicuously absent earlier Arcadio returns his attention to Junpei who now looks around the gallery in wonder at what they have crafted together.

Arcadio’s grin grows wider with every step towards Junpei, nearing close enough to kiss, he stands tall and the two enjoy each other’s passion for the first time in reality. Though as Junpei’s deific form clearly demonstrates, what is real doesn’t matter all too much at all. Arcadio doesn’t quite understand the whims of the world he exists in and he’s pretty confident given enough time he won’t even remember being the impetus for his lover’s changes. In fact, as he stands in the arms of Junpei, memories already begin filling his mind of their years together that are as real as anything. Looking around he sees a room full of decisions they made together, body man he may be but the two of them are more than equals. Breaking away from the kiss, he sniffs the air and steps back from Junpei.

Arcadio looks at Junpei’s puppy dog eyes and ruffles his short hair, “Now go take a shower, perrito. Opening is in two hours and you stink, mi amor.” Junpei looks down at himself in shock, somehow forgetting the cold sweat covering his clothes and nods fervently before sprinting back out the door. The two lovers remain on each other's minds as they go about preparing for opening day. Ever but a thought away and always eager for the next moment that they will have alone together. 

[kittylover776]

That song is so underrated! I’m glad it made it as your top song. XD

I was NOT expecting Under The Tree to be my top song for this year but I guess my fixation on TPS and the amount of times I contemplated on watching the movies all over again seemed to make it happen 🤣

Margaret and Kevin I have my eyes on you two 🤓

(The top 0.001% listener is taking me out 😭 )

[vanweezer]

corey taylor when i catch you corey fucking taylor. corey when i catch you corey. Corey When I Catch You

[kumkaniudaku]

Askew

Summary: Terry makes good on a promise.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: SMUT (18+)

Previous: At Last: Part Two

“I’m gonna fuck the glasses off your face tonight. Okay?” 

A simple sentence. No fanfare. No lingering touch or a suggestive look. Not even a repeat of his matter-of-fact declaration despite the words nearly being lost to the pockets of conversation in Corey’s kitchen during a rowdier than usual Friendsgiving gathering. Terry calmly whispered the plain statement into Patrice’s ear as he passed by on the way out of the door to join the other men in the backyard. 

Patrice tried to appear unphased while she sipped from her plastic cup of white wine. “Now?”

“I’ll let you know.” 

He’d made up his mind to have her babbling incoherent sentences while he bent her over the living room couch before they could make it out of the house, but holding in his little secret had proven difficult. Terry wished he could blame it on the tequila shots or the haze of weed smoke blown out of mouths far too federally employed to still be dabbling with the plant. Either would be an acceptable lie because the truth was too trivial to share. It was the North Carolina A&T crew neck and black cat-eye glasses Patrice had chosen to sport for the night. His mind dreamt up all the times he’d missed her studying for exams in the sweater a hair too large, and glasses that made her look like a professor during office hours while she bounced around the room making small talk with people he hardly recognized. His social butterfly moving her lips a mile a minute when all he wanted to do was feel those lips on every square inch of his body.

Terry needed her in the worst way. The bathroom might’ve sufficed. Maybe even the backseat of his truck. But neither option provided the sound insulation he needed to fulfill his raging desire. He’d need the privacy of their home and a TV turned all the way up to avoid disturbing the neighbors. 

The signal to leave came with a quick tap on Patrice’s hip in the middle of a spirited talk with her best friend, Vicky, about something he couldn’t care less about. 

“I guess that’s my cue, girl,” Patrice laughed, trying to play her role as the chatty wife being called away by her quiet husband. “Talk to you later?” 

Their exit featured hurried goodbyes and promises to return for the Christmas game night that they likely wouldn’t remember come daylight. Hands fumbled with keyfobs and door handles in their mad dash to somewhere a little more secluded. Blue lights from the dashboard reflected from Patrice’s glasses as they made out in front of their childhood friend’s house like maniacs, too intoxicated with lust to care if someone saw them from the open front door. 

One hand on the steering wheel and the other middle and ring fingers deep in warm pussy had Terry breaking speed limits and running stop signs to turn a twenty-minute journey into ten if he were lucky. 

They didn’t waste time with light switches or picking up discarded clothing on the clumsy journey to the bedroom. A split second of clarity told Terry to flip on the lamp as Patrice made the descent to his dick one sloppy kiss on his chest and stomach at a time. 

“What you got for me?” 

More than he’d bargained for should’ve been the answer had she taken the time to use her mouth for anything more than making his muscled thighs tense like he’d been tased. 

With a pillow folded between her legs while she lay on her stomach and eyes looking up at Terry over the rim of her spectacles, Patrice put on an oral demonstration fit for a professional. Her glasses fogged from the cold air and steamy situation unfolding on their marital bed. 

The corners of her mouth stinging from the stretch of him and the ache building in her core kept her tethered to reality when she wanted to escape into the pleasure of seeing her man so vulnerable from her touch. 

He hissed and cursed as she ran a flat tongue on the underside of his dick. “Fuck, girl. I knew I’d get all of this up out you one day. Damn…” 

Gobbsmacked. Astounded. Sucked into oblivion. Terry had transcended time and space once Patrice made a home for him at the back of her throat over and over again. Spit coated her hands, chin, and his lap while she focused on leaving him too stupefied to utter anything that had more than one syllable. She could’ve swiped every dollar from his wallet, bank account, and retirement fund and he’d still thank her for inviting him into her mouth. 

Low groans and rough requests for more sounded like applause as Patrice went to work on her lover. His approach to the mountaintop matched hers as she desperately searched for friction from the pillow below her. 

“Hell yeah, like that, baby. You know what you doin’. Shit.” Praise came in heeps. Her silk press had long turned into reigns for Terry to keep her head stable. Tears mixed with saliva for extra lubrication. She looked gorgeous under amber light to her husband. 

Up and down, up and down. Take it. Gargle it down. Breathe through your nose. Looping mantras played in her head as he took control to finish what she’d started.  

His release came in a photo finish. His toes curled from pure ecstasy. Body seized up in beautiful suspension, each bulging muscle in his arms and torso on display. Head thrown back to direct his loud moan to the ceiling. Eyeballs rolled behind fluttering lids. Kids drained down the hatch, never to reach their full potential. 

She cleaned up the remnants with her tongue, splitting her attention between Terry and the building orgasm as she swiveled her hips against firm cotton. He stared down at her, taking in the way her jaw dropped to form that ‘o’ he loved so much. Her brow furrowed once her teeth took hold of her bottom lip. 

“That feel good to you, baby?” 

“Mhmm.” Patrice tried to give a more accurate description of her mind state. All she could manage was a slurred hum in the affirmative while he watched her unravel at the seams without his help. 

“Show me. I wanna watch.” 

And watch he did. Dick in hand and back pressed against the headboard, Terry used his refractory period to watch Patrice turn his pillow into her personal fuck toy. Her hips bucked slowly under his attention while she searched for her first eruption. 

His stroke matched her movements blow for blow while she admired her lone audience member. Siren eyes and a confident smirk, hands kneading bountiful breasts, and his name rolling from her lips kept him engrossed in her one-woman show. 

The inevitable approached like a crashing wave against a calm shore. “Let me cum for you, Terrence. Can I do that? Tell me.” 

Patrice knew the trouble she’d started. Using his first name, and asking for permission, it was all to elicit the reaction Terry so eagerly provided. He scrambled to his knees for the chance to hover over her with his forehead pressed so tightly against hers that they shared pools of sweat. 

Intense blue-green eyes peered down at her, wordlessly edging her closer to paradise. 

“Nuh uh, eyes up here,” Patrice instructed when the view of quaking thighs and waxed lower lips became too distracting for Terry. “Tell me when, my love. I’m all yours.” 

Her voice climbed, sounding like a symphony to his ears. He waited and watched until she met the brink of too much stimulation. “Now. Right now.” 

A rush of emotions forever intertwining two bodies flowed between them through a kiss dominated by silky tongues and Patrice’s swallowed mewls. Terry had perfected the art of kissing. Knowing when to suck at her bottom lip, when to wrap his large hand around Patrice’s throat to keep her head angled upward, and when to pull away for other pursuits. 

Normally, hickeys were childish evidence of adult activities, but tonight they were trophies for a job well done. 

“I love you so much.” Even in furious fucking where feelings took a backseat to more carnal desires, Terry refused to miss an opportunity to utter his favorite phrase. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heart’s content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. “I love the way you sound.” 

“What else?” 

A lick up her sternum before a kiss. “I love the way you say my name.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I love your body. You’re perfect.” An open-mouthed kiss at the base of her neck as he gripped her waist. “I love the way you take dick. Especially tonight. Think you can take some more for me, pretty?”

Like a magnet, Terry’s fingers found their way to Patrice’s slick inner lips as he gathered wetness to drag skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle with his lips pressed against her cheek. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.

“Whatever you say, baby.”

Terry didn’t say much. It wasn’t his nature. Only short, honey-sweet directions for Patrice to press her chest to crumpled sheets and spread her knees wide. He made it so easy to comply. So easy to contort herself into any position he wanted because she knew what awaited her on the other side. 

He had her at his mercy. Her sat ass high up in the air with her flower on display from a gloriously deep arch. Terry felt an animalistic switch flip to remind him of his promise. Pupils dilated and reinvigorated by the lewd image manifesting at his fingertip, he went to work. 

A relentless pounding. Punishing strokes that made the bed creak from the stress of it all. The sheer force knocked Patrice’s glasses askew without an opportunity for adjustment. She could only claw at the foot of the bed and push her hips back into his to match the rhythm. 

The sound of smacking skin and mixed moans created a soundtrack for rabid, desperate fucking. His thumbs left impressions on the delicate skin of her back, turning his knuckles white as he dug deeper. 

Patrice took every inch like only she could, earning a rough smack as appreciation. 

“That’s my girl,” Terry gritted through clenched teeth. “Stay with me. I feel you.” 

It was all too much. The angle. The vision of Terry’s chest clenching and releasing for exertion as Patrice looked back at him. The way his brows knitted in concentration. The scent of his cologne wafted with every move. His tattoos glistened under dim lights.

“Oh my God!” 

Early sparks of a white-hot release turned Patrice into putty, forcing Terry to hold her close. 

One hand between her legs and the other putting soft pressure on the sides of her neck kept Patrice and Terry tethered on their quest for joint waves.

“I love you.” 

“I need you.” 

“You feel so good inside me.” 

“Kiss me. Please.”

“Cum for me.”

Terry sank his teeth into Patrice’s shoulder as she clenched around him, no longer able to contain himself inside her. Shared euphoria. A once in a blue moon experience that neither of them had encountered. 

Moans became indistinguishable. Eyelids clamped shut as hips sputtered. Glasses tumbled from the bed to the floor, having served their purpose. Bodies wrapped themselves around the other until they were spent, toppled over, and basking in the feel of each other. 

“Good job, baby.” Terry praised, his voice soothing her mind while his hands rubbed the peaks and valleys of Patrice’s hips and thighs while they lay on their sides. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out, too engrossed in the subtle aftershocks deep inside her body. “You okay? Talk to me.”

Patrice breathed out a delirious laugh as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I can’t see! I can’t believe you fucked me blind. You’re insane.” 

“How much time you got tonight? I got some shit I been wanting to do to you for a long time.” 

“Like what?” 

Whispers of new positions and marathon lovemaking made the hairs on her arms stand at attention. A second promise had entered the mix. 

They’d make a baby or spend the rest of the night and into the morning trying. 

---

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[johnbrand]

Bonding

“I still can’t believe you were trying to hypnotize me,” Corey chuckled, his slightly-dazed brother-in-law sitting across from him on the floor. “What were you trying to get out of me anyway?”

The evening had started out innocently enough. Corey and Paul had gotten along decently in the past. Friendly, but never true friends. They just did not have that much in common. Paul’s life was complex, eccentric, and filled with sexual adventures. Corey, nor Paul’s sister whom he had recently married, had any problems with this, although it was hard for them to relate to. They were settling down, taking pleasure in the simpler things in life.

“I was just hoping to…hoping to…” Paul was struggling, caught between holding back and fully surrendering to Corey.

“Look back into my eyes and relax, Paul,” Corey calmly instructed. “Let that relaxation continue to take over. Let me be the one in charge now. You are willing to give your power to me.”

While the differences between the two existed, both Corey and Paul did truly wish to become better friends. So when Paul had asked to come over on a night his sister was not there, to just have dinner and bond, Corey eagerly accepted. The two had a great meal, talked on a variety of topics, and for some reason had eventually wound up in the bedroom. It was there Paul had tried to hypnotize Corey, but his brother-in-law could have never known Corey was much more experienced in the craft then he was. Paul was under before he even realized the tables had been turned.

Watching Paul’s eyes flutter once more, Corey pushed back the question. “Why were you trying to hypnotize me tonight, Paul?”

Paul’s response was robotic: “I was hoping to convert you.”

“'Convert me’?” Corey repeated.

“You know...make you gay,” Paul clarified, still entranced.

“And why would you want that?”

“So then you could be mine,” Paul uttered. "Bonding like...sexually...as lovers..."

Corey took a moment to process this. A little stunned, but also somehow not surprised. It was a common stereotype for straight men to believe that gay men lusted for them, and Corey was coming to realize he may have actually been a part of this trope. Corey did not know whether to be flattered or offended. It was endearing that his brother-in-law thought of him in such a manner, but also cruel that Paul attempted to manipulate him. And now that Corey knew of Paul’s knowledge of hypnotization, he feared another victim could appear in the future.

“Paul, let me repeat back to you what you just told me.” Carefully, Corey kicked out his feet, removing his socks to let them breathe a bit. He brought up one of the socks to his nose, confirming they would be a potent enough trigger to keep Paul under. 

“You were hoping for me to convert you.” Corey stated this rather than posing a question, forcing Paul to absorb it as a new truth.

“...yes…” Paul mumbled. “...you…convert me…”

“Those weren’t feelings of lust, but of admiration,” Corey continued. “You don’t want to like me, you want to be like me.”

Paul processed this new truth, “I want to…I want to be like you.”

Corey smiled. He could have never predicted for this situation to have arisen from tonight’s activities, but he assumed that it could still be considered “bonding,” seeing as Paul was about to learn, rather take in a lot about his brother-in-law.

With his wife gone for the whole weekend, Corey had plenty of time to work with Paul. Rewriting Paul’s background came first, and luckily Corey already knew a good deal of it from being married to Paul’s sister. Starting from childhood, Corey worked his way up through adolescence. A Halloween costume from age 7 switched from a wizard to a train conductor. An after school activity at age 10 was switched from the community choir to baseball. Age 16 replaced a Toyota Prius with a Camry, Age 17 art elective to woodshop, Age 18 private liberal arts college to public university. It was a delicate process, but as Corey removed integral portions of Paul’s history and supplanted them with his own, the progress became visible.

During the early stages, it was mostly physical adaptations as Paul’s pubescent stages were rewritten to mimic his brother-in-law’s. Longer legs gave him more height, a history in sports put some meat on his bones, a love for bars over clubs put some hair on his chest–and just about everywhere else. 

By the time Corey began restructuring Paul’s twenties, the visible changes became less apparent. The designer, patterned dress shirt and matching pants Paul adorned were dialed down to neutral, off-the-rack colors as one-off production jobs were replaced with a steady accounting gig. Random male strangers to long-term heterosexual relationships added a little softness over Paul’s abs and inched his hairline back to match Corey’s. And from recently renewing a lease in the city to recently placing a down payment in the suburbs, Corey proudly watched as a fluffy beard sprung forth from Paul’s face, just like his own. Corey would not be surprised if others would now assume the pair were brothers, not brothers-in-law.

“Now, I’m going to put away my feet, Paul.” Corey’s funk had fumed up the room. He already knew his wife would complain about it once she arrived back home. “But from now on, when I present you with my feet, you will immediately go back under again, do you understand?”

While mentally still a bit slow, Paul confirmed by presenting his own, now giant feet to Corey. “Your feet…at your command…”

“Good.” With that, Corey was quick with the cleanup process, reminding Paul that all the changes were permanent, he did not know how to hypnotize people nor would ever learn how to, and that he would not remember any of what they had just done together. Their weekend had just been spent bonding after all, drinking beers and complaining about women. Just two brother-in-laws becoming better brothers.

[grave-st0ned]

guess who snagged them >:3 girlfriends

i’m not a disney person like that but if i see two dolls i think would look cute together the urge is there and the ily 4ever daisy and minnie would be so cute together

[anticipatecrime]

𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 | jake webber x ghost fem reader

summary: jake, and the rest of the boys go to the biltmore hotel for a video on sam and colbys channel, what happens when they encounter a ghost, you, and he doesn't believe in it? you get irritated and start to mess with the boy a/n: warning for description of a murder, angsty+ i love the concept of the whole platonic ghost stuff i think its really cute words: 4.2k

the boys walked down the miserable hallway of the biltmore hotel, no color or sense of life near. sam squinted, pointing to a small plaque that reads, 'presidential suite'. colby followed behind with the camera, filming as they joked and made references.

as they arrived at the white door, the blonde opening it, everyone was in awe. the modernness mixed with the older architecture caught them off guard. peering in, they became speechless at the size of the room. "oh my god." he said, turning on the slight switch.

"what the hell this looks like our house." jake comments, taking in the white marble floor, and grand doorway.

"oh my god, there's- oh my god." corey mumbled, never having seen something so special.

"there's a library!" sam gestured to it, before they discovered it was a second story hotel room. they stepped down the spiral staircase, into the darkness of the lower floor.

jakes hands slid down the railing, it ominously chilling. he quickly realized how heavy the air was. he slowly shuffled into the shadow, noticing the muted colors of the wallpaper.

in a matter of seconds, a shiver ran down his spine, and his heart began to race. he felt a strange wetness on his forehead. touching it, he realized it was a trickle of sweat.

how was he sweating in this moment? jake was freezing, goosebumps beginning to form on his arms, it didn't piece together. he didn't like whatever he was feeling, and stepped back next to corey.

colby called out from on the bottom step of the stairs, confused why everyone was just standing rather than finding a light.

he shook his head. "colby, come down here, go into that room with the light off." him and corey encouraged.

"i literally got scared when i went into it." jake admitted, usually never being effected by the paranormal this intensely.

colby sighed, before walking towards the next room. he closed his eyes for a second, immediately feeling what the other had, and he retreated back to the group, frightened. "i just got chills, man." he mumbled.

"no seriously, this downstairs is weird" sam stated, touching the walls as he tried to locate the switch, before giving up and using lanterns.

they began to explore the large area, feeling a change in the atmosphere. colby observed a door he hadn't spotted before. he called over his friends, before creaking open the door softly.

sam realized that the room was on both of the most haunted floors, making it a point to the camera.

as the boys investigated the room, either messing with the antique elevator, or opening closets and cracking jokes, you stirred.

hearing a boisterous laugh, your mind became conscious, tuning into the howls from below. feeling slightly disoriented from being forcibly awoken, you were irritated to say the least.

not only did these people intrude into your hotel room, they had the nerve to be deafening.

you closed your metaphorical eyes, you imagined yourself elsewhere, wishing out of all places your spirit was attached to it wasn't this one.

the laughs stopped, and you propped an eye open, confused. then you heard the same voices, but in a much more professional tone. they sounded like poor actors. if they were actors in your day, they would not succeed.

their serious voices sounded immature, they weren't even using the correct grammar, infact things they said didn't sound like words.

typically, when people stayed in the presidential suite, you tried to keep distance, not wanting to intimidate them, however these people had you drawn in.

soon enough, it was completely silent and you heard the door shut to the hotel. they had left, most likely to explore. as they were talking to something, it almost sounding like an audience, you overheard them and assumed they were ghost hunters of some sort.

perhaps you should follow, you thought to yourself.

over the years of being attached to the biltmore hotel, many paranormal investigators have come and gone, and most times they call out for you. feeling the need to impress and give these peoples lives meaning, you'll normally mess with their devices or move things around the room.

you've met some determined and cool individuals, and only wished you could leave like them, the thing you despised most was being stuck here.

the closest thing to leaving, was trailing behind guests and pretending you could be apart of their life. so you did was you generally do and follow along.

finally coming close to them, you saw their faces. you predicted they were all the same age, maybe a year or so apart at the most, probably in their very early twenties, and that they had been friends for some time.

you could see the faded yellow aura that hung around them, indicating they had a close friend relationship. looking even closer you saw purple floating with them too, a sign that they were fearful of what's to come.

one thing about them you couldn't understand. a blonde boy was holding onto a piece of equipment, you assumed a camera, but the odd thing about it was how they all looked into it and made conversation, as if there was a bunch of small people inside.

you weren't born dead yesterday, you understood that there was now something labeled as the internet, and that there was social media, however you couldn't acknowledge all of it, your mind not capable. so you moved on, and just tried to learn about the camera on the way.

the group had eventually gotten around, looking into tunnels and secret spaces around the area, and figured they should take a break to eat and relax.

once they all sat on the couches that were organized infront of the television, the camera was put away and they began chatting about their experiences around the hotel so far.

three of the guys were discussing how they felt a negative vibe, and that they were slightly frightened and creeped out already and the night had just begun.

you took note of how one of them was less enthusiastic, and scrolling on his smartphone. just by observing him, and watching his movements, it was clear he was a non believer, or atleast a stubborn skeptic. "i think you guys are overthinking it." he stated, putting down the phone.

"jake, are you going to tell me this place doesn't scare you?" sam questioned, pulling out the camera to record his thoughts.

"it doesn't. i mean think about it, tons of presidents and celebrities have stayed here, they think it's luxury. why would they stay here if it was haunted?" you thought about his logic and agreed with it, you would probably think the same as him.

"so you don't believe the hotel is haunted at all?" colby leaned in, eager to hear.

jake glanced around the room before answering a very simple, "i don't."

you furrowed your eyebrows, glaring at the boy infront of you. you stood, feet hovering above the carpeted ground. to say you were offended was an understatement.

it had been a long while since someone denied not just your existence, but all of the spirits that reside here, and honestly it had your old blood boiling. it felt like a competition to you, something that had to be proven.

you floated around the room, merging down to the lower floor to mess with something. eyes glancing, they finally landed onto the rustic old elevator that had previously given them chills.

focusing on the door, you used your energy to open it, and to rattle the guard on it. a misconception that has been passed around that you hated, was how ghosts physically touch and throw things.

it was a lot more difficult than that. you had to focus, and think about it occurring, which cost you a lot of your energy, energy that you only got back from resting.

"guys, guys, holy fuck." sam turns on the camera out of fear after hearing an eerie noise that broke the calm ambiance. they exchanged frightened but curious glances, wondering what the sound could have been.

"did you fucking hear that?" colby asked frantically, looking around the room. you enjoy the panic on their faces as they start going downstairs, so you move the fencing again.

the noise persisted, and crude waves of unease gradually wash over them, sam running down the stairs, his face fraught with urgency. as he got to the bottom, he froze in his tracks, eyes widening with trepidation. "oh god."

corey gasped. "the doors open!" he pointed across the hallway, directly where you stood.

you held your breath and scooted away as jake took your spot next to the elevator. it had been awhile since you were that close to someone, you never liking the feeling of them passing by or through you.

"wasn't it closed?" corey exclaimed, keeping his distance.

"we would've closed it right?" sam said, everyone mutually agreeing but still indistinct. he walked over to the spot, and started rocking the guard back and forth, making the exact unwavering sound you did.

you hovered near jake, and tried to touch into his emotions. he paused for a moment, chills running down his limbs. suddenly, a very unsettling feeling hits him, and all the hair on his body stands up.

it was a similar feeling to what he felt earlier, but more personal. the fear he felt was heavy, and the air quickly became thick like before. he coughed slightly, almost like someones hand floated around his throat.

he coughed again, this time everyone taking notice. they were very panicked by this situation, and distracted. "you okay, brother?" colby asked, putting a hand on the other's shoulder. he responded while nodding.

in reality he wasn't. he felt like someone was watching him, goosebumps began spreading around his skin and he kept shivering regardless of his sweater.

you watched as chaos ensued, the boys going through all of the rooms on the lower floor, looking for something that could tell them where the noises had come from.

they had stopped to converse, realizing how extreme they were being, and before they could even say a word, you were meddling around upstairs, touching a few keys on the grand piano.

you heard them panic once more, even jake confessing his fear. you sighed of relief, it was just what you wanted. you took a seat on the couch the boy had been laying on before this all happened, and leaned back, kicking your legs up.

watching them discuss what they thought the second noise was, the skeptical boy knew it was a piano, he felt it, and you were proud of him, clapping to yourself.

continuing to mess with them slightly, you found it entertaining for awhile, until it got sad to you. you never want people to fear you, you always identified as friendly to people who stayed in the room, and you knew you were just messing with them to prove jake wrong but they didn't know that.

so when you heard they were doing a seance, you beamed, because then you could hopefully let them know it was just for fun, and that you were harmless.

you were buzzing with excitement as you drifted down the hall, into the direction of the dining room. it had been a long time since you last had contact with people. the suite left unbooked for a few months, you wondered how expensive it was to rent now.

as the four boys set up their camera equipment and seance supplies, your translucent figure flickered with jolts of energy, and you waited in anticipation for it to begin.

you watched as they turned off the lights, and lit candles in between them. they flickered, providing mere glimpses of desolate space. shadows danced ominously along the walls, distorting objects into strange shapes that seemed to taunt their senses.

"we promised in our last video we were going to do a seance." sam spoke dully. "and.. we're going to do a seance."

"do we want to do this seance? not really." colby shrugged at the situation, looking at the lit candles.

they huddled against the table, and whispered words of encouragement to each other as sam attempted to google ways to begin such a powerful ritual.

jake glanced at them before wondering. "how do we as humans, decide how to correctly summon something?" he asked, not understanding.

"we don't." the other responded, still scrolling on his phone.

"i don't think anyone truly knows, so as long as we ya'know have the feeling of believing in something, trying to communicate with something no matter what. if something wants to talk to us they will.: he explains, making you smile.

as much as a skeptical he seems to be, everything he's telling the others is correct. as they discussed more, you listened, so curious in what people think about ghosts.

you could only briefly remember what you thought about them before passing, but as time goes on, your memories of being alive fade away, leaving you with gaps of confusion.

wanting to get a better view, you perched yourself on top of the chandelier, accidentally swaying it slightly. you cursed when corey noticed, this time not trying to mess with them.

they extended their hands. "if there's someone here, please use our energy to communicate with us." they spoke together, corey still noticing the light shaking. he pointed up at it, and called your actions out.

you started feeling anxious, and floated away from it, going to stand near jake and colby. within seconds, the latter raised his arm to show his goosebumps to the others.

both feeling the cold breeze, and the candles flickering slighty, the boys looked to eachother before brushing it off, and continuing with the seance. they all closed their eyes, squeezing them shut as they focused intently. "if you are here, use our energy to make a second or sign." they spoke together.

as the group sat at the table in a circle, hands intertwined, the air grew still. you hovered around the table, across from jake. you were watching him carefully. his eyes began to open, and they widened.

a chill rushed down his spine, struck with horror. he saw a translucent form, face contorted with a large grin. you looked at him questioningly, wondering why he was looking in your direction, before taking a peek behind you out of curiosity.

after seeing nothing, you realized he was looking directly into your eyes. "holy fuck." he muttered, gaining his friends attention. "holy-holy fuck." he stood up, his legs pushing his chair back. he pointed to you, and you felt an aching feeling.

"what, what is it jake?" sam asked, looking around. the pain overtook your body, making you scatter away out of sight. jake blinked frantically, and you were no longer there.

"did you guys not see that?" his heart was beating fast, and his body trembling, knees threatening to give out. a soft tear even left his eye.

"see what? oh my god are you okay?" colby inquired, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"i-i." the boy couldn't even speak, in terror. what was worst is that he couldn't tell if his mind had played tricks with him, or if what he saw was true. "i saw.. i saw someone, something."

"what?" corey exclaimed, backing away from where he was sitting.

"it was a weird shadow figure, she had long dark hair, i- i don't know what just happened. i swear i was looking at her, and then it was like she saw that i saw her, and she disappeared."

when he had looked into your eyes, he felt such an odd connection to you, even with his frightened appearance, inside he felt drawn.

"are you a medium or something?" sam asked, trying to joke a bit. he knew his friend was a skeptic, so him coming out and saying something like this was out of the ordinary.

whatever had happened, had corey scared, so scared that he quit the seance, and decided to sit a chair away, no longer holding hands and chanting. "should we keep going?" colby asked, jake nodding desperately.

taking a few minutes to calm down, they restarted. and since corey had finished being apart of the activity, they figured they might as well use the oujia board for content purposes.

you began to cry in the other room, curling your body into a ball. you couldn't believe what had just happened. for the first time ever, in 20 years, something impossible occurred. someone had seen you.

never wanting to be the source of fear and panic, this had broken you. they thought you were a malevolent spirit, that you were scary. suddenly, you felt yourself being pulled back to the dining room, almost like someone was dragging you.

you tried to fight it until it was physically taking you away. once you entered, it was obvious the boy could no longer see you. he looked across the room, seeing nothing.

feeling another jolt, you take notice at the oujia board and planchette, and realized why you were being attracted to it. they were calling out for you again, trying to speak with you.

"if there is a spirit here, can you please use this oujia board to communicate with us." colby spoke, looking at everyone fingers on the planchette.

you begin to push it to yes, and observe as their eyes widen. "is this who i saw a second ago?" jake wondered aloud. you sighed, pushing it to yes before spelling out 'sorry'.

they faced eachother. "what does that mean?" sam asked to them, before gazing around the area. "what are you sorry for?"

using energy to move it, you spelt out the word scared, hoping they would understand. the boys discussed this, finally agreeing that you were apologizing for scaring them. "are you sorry for scaring me? for showing yourself?"

"yes." you mumbled aloud, and he heard it. he jumped up, trying to spot where you were, giving up when he couldn't see you.

"i heard you!" jake commented. "can you show yourself to me again?" you talked to him through the board. spelling 'don't know.'

"you don't know how? is that why you were shocked when you realized he saw you?" colby questioned, earning a yes from the board.

"what's your name?" jake asked.

"y/n." you tried to say strongly, only coming out as a soft whisper.

"y/n." he repeated, nodding to his friends. "your name is y/n." he paused, taking a deep breath, before feeling you stand by him. "a-are you near me right now?"

you whispered into his ear, brushing it gently. "yes." he gasped, moving back.

"she's right beside me." he told them, before revealing his goosebumps.

"are you friendly?" corey asked, from outside the seance. the planchette moved to yes, you running out of energy.

"i mean atleast that's good." sam muttered.

jake felt an odd feeling, attracted to your spirit. he felt connected to you, to your energy. he breathed shakily, before opening his eyes again, seeing you next to him. he tried to stay calm, and smiled towards you.

you giggled, smiling back, and giving a gentle wave, making him do the same. you held your hand up, and he understood. both of you tried to touch hands, like a high five.

you both gasped, you moving back at what had just happened. his hand didn't go through yours, it touched it. you felt how human and alive his skin was, you could feel his pulse from it, and he had felt a cold, hard feeling. "oh my god." he spoke. "guys, i'm touching her.. her hand is cold."

corey took a step back holding his hands up. "what the fuck is going on?!" he shouted, making you flinch. "jake, i swear to god if you're fucking with us for a prank, i'm leaving." he threatened, seriously scared.

"i-i i'm not, i don't know how this is happening." he replied. "can you do this with them?"

you shook your head, not understanding how you made this happen. "then can you show them a sign? a sign that you're real?" you nodded hesitantly. "okay.. hmm." he looked around the hotel. "can you knock on the door right there?"

hovering, you traveled to the door, and tapped on it aggressively, earning shocked faces from the group. "i can't believe this is happening." sam stated to the camera, before seeing that it was off. "what the hell?" he took a closer look, and groaned, throwing his hand out. "the fucking camera turned off."

"how long ago?" colby wondered, earning a shrug. "fuck." he muttered, knowing that a lot of good content could've been gone.

as sam tried to fix it, everyone else was focused on the oujia board, as it took less energy. "how old are you?" corey asked. it spelled out 19.

"i didn't realize you were that young." jake spoke. "what happened to you?"

having to think about your death was the most painful thing for you. it was the only memory from when you were alive that you could remember every detail to, so prominent in your mind.

almost there decades ago, 1986, you were set to be married to an american man, and you were waiting for him to return in the presidential suite.

it was a stormy evening, the wind howling outside of the biltmore, one of the most prestigious hotels. as rain beat against the windows, the sound of the raindrops hitting the panes was almost deafening and you had been feeling anxious, almost as if there was a foreboding presence looming over you.

you shivered, feeling cold and uneasy, wrapping a blanket over your body as you sipped from your mug.

an unexpected sense of dread washed over you and before you could comprehend what was happening, a shadow like figure lunged at you from the darkness, catching you off guard.

the mug slipped out of your trembling hands, crashing onto the marble floor into pieces. fear consumed you, as you desperately fought back, adrenaline surging through your veins.

you screamed, calling out for help. your hopeless pleas for mercy echoed against the dull walls before falling on deaf ears. in the chaos of the struggle, you fell into a table, trying to escape from them.

quickly, the masked assailant unleashed a relentless barrage of fueled strikes, their anger mingling with the terror that gripped your soul.

time lost all meaning as each thrust of the blade hit your chest, crimson streaks tainted the white floor, becoming a silent witness. and in your final moments alive, choking and spitting up blood, your twitching arm reached up and swatted at the person.

you heard a deformed laugh, before your world subsided into darkness, your spirit fading into the ethereal realm, and that's all you remember before you woke up disoriented, and realized you had died.

tears welled in your eyes, as you sobbed, face red and swollen. jake saw your pained expression, and in seconds your memories entered his mind, leaving him the same irregular breathing and gasps.

he tried explaining to his friends what you had gone through, them still hesitant to believe in this crazy experience. "i'm so sorry." he cried out to you.

he couldn't believe how you died, and how he just got your memories, or how he could see and hear you. he felt insane.

"guys this is serious, i don't know what to do anymore." sam said, looking at the boy. "we should end this."

"brother do you understand how crazy this is? you need to.. you need to get help, or see a medium or something." corey shrugged, shaking his head.

"i agree with sam we should end whatever this is, it's taking a toll on you jake."

"guys i can't just leave her now, i have to keep talking to her. if you want you can go watch tv or something but this is important to me now. i promise you guys i'm fine, i just.. i have.. i have to do this." he begged.

"jake.." sam trailed off. "okay. as long as you promise you're okay, like don't get obsessed with this. don't be too much longer, it's already almost 5 in the morning."

"i promise." jake nodded, watching as they left the room, corey not understanding why he would do something like this.

you two looked at eachother, before trying to catch your breath. "what is it like being a ghost?" he asked, attempting to improve the mood.

"sad." you whispered, lips chapped. "stuck."

"you're stuck here?" he repeated, earning a nod. "how do you get out?" you shrugged at him. he sighed, apologizing.

you sat together in deep silence. many would think it was awkward or uncomfortable but it was calm and peaceful. the fact someone could see and know you for the first time since you died, made you feel happy, like you had a friend.

he continued to talk to you and keep you company for awhile, feeling guilty that he had to leave in a few hours. you understood he did, knowing it wouldn't last forever but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"i'm sorry you're stuck here. i hope you find your way out or to the real afterlife so you can leave this boring place." he comforted you.

"it's okay." you smiled. finally being able to share your story was enough. you felt your body becoming numb from being so giddy. "visit."

"i'll visit you again, don't worry." he hums. "i feel like we're connected, like you'll always be attached to me." making you nod.

the two of you shared an oddly comforting hug, before he had to leave. you followed their group to the hotel lobby, and unlike most times when you went down there, there wasn't a pull.

so when you continued to follow them and you weren't stuck in place, the happiness came back, and you started to cry once more. you watched them drive away, feeling in debt to jake for how much relief he gave you.

you've gained your freedom after 30 years of being stuck in the hotel you were brutally murdered in. "thank you jake." you murmured, before floating away, the happiest you've ever been.

[hersweetrevenge]

the way i was kicking my legs like a little girl when you dropped the last chapter and a bonus? oh blake, you spoil us so 💗 everyone go and read blake's work (all of it) rn -- or else !!

i love that we get an alternate version of the same set up -- "trying to socialise corey like he is a shelter dog with trust issues" lol 💗 i love the "official" version, but it's so interesting to see this too, with it's focus on corey's fascination with the reader and the way he perceives her behaviour.

Corey has learned that this means you’re about to propose an activity to him.

this phrasing is absolutely perfect !! we immediately know that this is a (somewhat) regular occurrence that corey has probably weaselled he way out of on more than one occasion lol the dynamic is immediately established in that reader clearly takes a sort of methodical approach to this or else corey will get all skittish about it. but also the way corey knows what's coming, his growing indignancy that either he can't do what you want, or that you want him to do it at all.

He misses you whenever you’re not together. Just staying in the living room while you shower and do your hair is hard for him sometimes, but he doesn’t want to hover over you too much.

that shelter dog rizz lol i'm glad this carried over to chap. 13 because i feel like it's such a crucial part of how corey experiences relationships, with anyone. he's used to having no one, he's used to losing everything, he clings desperately. he knows it's excessive but he just can't shut off that feeling of premature grief (like his "would you still love me?" moment of mourning in chap. 12)

He loves losing to you at Scrabble

domestic bliss, baby !! 💗 another super subtle character moment, the way it's something so small and so inconsequential that he loves. that he really truly does love when you're happy. but also corey's brand of "so long as what i'm doing makes you happy..." and not to read too much into it but it feels very along the lines of his habit of de-escalation via submission (not that that is at all what his and reader's relationship is like, but some things are just ingrained)

The only person going to be there besides you that he’s ever met before is Veronica, and the idea of starting the weekend trapped in such close quarters with strangers sounds horrible.

he's so real for this lol i too cannot think of anything worse than carpooling with strangers 😂 i love that even though it's not directly mentioned, it's still clear that he and veronica do not get along, or at least he doesn't consider her a person he'd feel more safe around than anyone else who will be there.

The thought of sabotaging something under the hood so the two of you can stay home has crossed his mind more than once, disconnecting a hose that could’ve feasibly come undone on its own, or replacing your battery with a dead one from the to-be-recycled pile at work. With some effort he resists the urge.

that sly dog 😏👀 i love how you balance his impulsive thoughts with his logical reasoning. he's great at thinking things through, and impulsive thoughts can turn into well-thought out plans if he gave them the time to grow, but he also knows he needs to shut those ideas down before he ruins things. but he's never going to stop thinking them, will never stop coming up with ways of manipulating and sabotaging in the most loving way possible, just so he can be with you and only you.

Corey doesn’t really remember what the drive through Georgia was like when he first hitched a ride here with that truck driver.

yes !! ahh i do wonder how much corey remembers and where he's memory blurs. i guess when he was straight out of the hospital he was dosed up with enough meds to keep him comfortable for a while, but you mentioned they were wearing off by the time he met evan. then i guess the pain coming through would be enough to keep him distracted. the difference between him then and now is so wild to think about, you've done such an amazing job of taking him on this journey where it really does feel like an age ago that he was hitching his way across the country with zero dollars in his pocket and no way to cope with everything that happened to him. i like that he gets to see that same journey (mostly) again in a different light.

bizarre billboards proclaiming Jesus to be alive “beyond a reasonable doubt” as if He’s on trial for it

yes, again !! we love some ominous signage and confusing religious slogans. i love corey's sort of self-made belief system, he picks and chooses that aspects to adopt, but doesn't really believe any of it. and the blending of religion with the justice system, something corey does know well.

People who might peer in your window and somehow recognize him through the darkness of the tint he’d so carefully applied.

this has no right to make me overthink the way it does lol 💗 is it common to have tinted windows there? is corey just that deeply paranoid that he tinted his girlfriends car windows so people are less likely to see him? did reader not think that was strange -- corey being so opposed to being out in public he'd tint her car windows? did reader want her windows tinted anyway and it's something that just happens to work in corey's favour? obsessed, truly.

But it’s your huntress thing, all  your tiny daily acts of cunning and violence.

i love that he isn't reading anything that isn't there, he just happens to be acutely aware of the violence of people. like back in chap. 10 where reader hold's the knife under his chin and he grins as he "tries to get away", but he's having fun. it's like he's been struggling with this need to quash every bad impulse he's ever had and when he sees those things in you, as small as they may be, it brings him such joy. and the cat-and-mouse, hunter vs. hunted, predator and prey, they fulfil his need to want and be wanted -- danger and violence and need. he wants someone to play with.

“Take the next exit,” he says.  “We’re pretty close now. You can’t wait?” you say. He’s not sure if you’re pretending or if you really don’t know your peacocking worked on him.  “No, I can’t wait.” His voice is low and urgent, and he digs his fingers into your thigh a little. He feels you tense up under his grip and he knows you understand him. 

this exchange !! 😈 the way his desire just constantly gets in the way, how he wants you right now and nothing else matters. nothing else will do.

He feels genuinely stung. 

*sicko voice* yes !! hahaha... yes !! i love being mean to him heehee 💗 how he wants you so, so, so bad and how doing anything other than letting him smother you with affection is you being so very, very mean.

You’ve never looked more radiant, but there’s something subtly sinister about it too.

the duality !! the things corey sees in you, the things corey brings out in you -- how your both destined to be obsessed and devoted and the only way this relationship could ever go on is by consuming you both.

reader's brand of sinister feels different to corey's, it feels like the darkness (if you could call it that) of having this power over someone who is more dangerous but also very, very vulnerable. it bleeds into the idea of corey needing you to need him (in whatever way that may be) as much as he needs you. i love this.

He's not really sure what he's asking for, he just knows he needs . "Please, please, please." 

if corey has any flaw at all it's that he always wants more. nothing is ever enough, his obsession runs so deep he just wants you, all the time, forever.

You wipe it away with your thumb, then press that thumb against his lips, smearing. He opens his mouth and tries to take you in, but you pull away... He feels a little twinge of shame for enjoying it so much, but it passes quickly.

ahhh this is so silly, stupid hot i am losing my mind !! he has the prettiest lips in the world, he'd look so beautiful like this and it's very unfair that he is not real. also, corey still learning how to manage his own desire and wants and finding him doing whatever you want because it means you want him.

he’s so helplessly yours

you know this exactly the sort of line that will ruin my life lol 💗 he's yours and only yours. he's hopelessly, helplessly, pathetically yours 💗

Clean Again

Deleted Chapter: RECKLESS read on AO3 | this weeks' real chapter | tumblr chapter index Reader's aggressive driving excites Corey more than it should. This is a chapter I wrote early on, before the plot was fully worked out. I wound up scrapping the camping trip idea which meant no driving through Atlanta, so this scene had to go, although I did carry over some elements and ideas into the chapters that replaced it. It's also one of the first sex scenes I wrote and has been minimally edited so... go easy on it. THIS CHAPTER CAN BE READ ALONE. If you're not caught up with Clean Again you can read as if it were a oneshot with no worries. 2,485 words contents/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, car sex, handjob, blow job, kinda subby Corey and dom Reader @rebel-blue @heartrot666 @cordelium @toxicanonymity @hersweetrevenge @futurewife @multifandom--mess @wolvesandvampires @ethanhoewke @yllcm

“Okay, so…” you say to Corey as you sit down at the dinner table next to him, two bottles and two forks in your hands. Corey has learned that this means you’re about to propose an activity to him. “The most exciting weekend of the year is coming up. Two weekends from now.”

He takes a fork and a bottle from you. “What happens on the most exciting  weekend?” he asks. He takes a bite of lo mein. 

“The annual Plymouth Records company camping trip. We close the store for a four day weekend and we all go to a campground in the mountains up by the Tennessee border.” You pat the table excitedly. Corey chews. He loves watching you get excited about things, but he knows you’re about to ask him to go on the trip. “I know you don’t like to go places you don’t have to, I know you don’t like big groups of people, but I just want you to know you’re welcome to come and I’ll miss you all weekend if you don’t.”

“You’ll miss me?” He asks. He tries to sound aloof, but hearing that from you means a lot to him. He misses you whenever you’re not together. Just staying in the living room while you shower and do your hair is hard for him sometimes, but he doesn’t want to hover over you too much. He thought maybe you’d miss him if he disappeared forever, but certainly not if you didn’t see him for just a couple days. Do you miss him during the week when he doesn’t stay the night?

“Yeah I’ll fucking miss you. Especially because everyone else is bringing their partners, I don’t wanna be the 15th wheel.” You laugh but your eyes beseech him.

“I’ll think about it,” he concedes. You give him The Smile. Fuck, he thinks, now I have to go.  

You keep smiling as you start eating, taking a victorious bite of an eggroll. Your gloating is insufferable and adorable. Like when you’re a sore winner at Scrabble. He loves losing to you at Scrabble, and he loves watching you right now. He just hopes against hope that none of your coworkers recognize him, that they don’t ask him too many questions and that they’re really as nice as you say they are. God help him if they’re rude to you in front of him. 

Although he agreed to go on the camping trip, he absolutely would not budge on carpooling. The only person going to be there besides you that he’s ever met before is Veronica, and the idea of starting the weekend trapped in such close quarters with strangers sounds horrible. Plus carpooling means depending on someone else when it’s time to leave. If something goes wrong he wants an exit strategy. You’d rather carpool, it’s part of the tradition. But Corey offers to pay for the gas, and him agreeing to come on the trip at all is such a big deal, you agree to drive without much convincing. 

In the gravel driveway of your apartment building, he gives your car a quick check up. Oil’s good, coolant’s good, could use a little more wiper fluid, but the wipers themselves look alright. All four tires have good air pressure. The thought of sabotaging something under the hood so the two of you can stay home has crossed his mind more than once, disconnecting a hose that could’ve feasibly come undone on its own, or replacing your battery with a dead one from the to-be-recycled pile at work. With some effort he resists the urge. This trip is important to you.

The two of you load the car up with rented camping gear and a massive cooler full of food, and leave early on Friday morning. It’s a beautiful clear day, unseasonably cool for May in the south. Corey doesn’t really remember what the drive through Georgia was like when he first hitched a ride here with that truck driver. He’s surprised how much of it is just endless expanses of nothing, communities barely big enough to be called towns, so far apart there are stretches of road with no exits for 10 miles. The highway is lined on either side with solar farms, bizarre billboards proclaiming Jesus to be alive “beyond a reasonable doubt” as if He’s on trial for it, towering trees choked with kudzu. When you make a pitstop the gas station is just two pumps that must be older than he is, and a decrepit building sporting ads for pizza and hotdogs, bleached nearly white by the sun. The graffiti in the bathroom is so many layers deep it feels like archeologists should be studying it. 

As the green mile markers tick down towards Atlanta, Corey notices something in you shift. You change the playlist coming through the new speakers he installed from quiet, bright indie music, to driving, chugging metal. You lean back in your seat and your eyes darken, your whole face taking on a more closed expression. Your already slightly leaden foot gets heavier, going from your usual 5 miles over the speed limit, to 10 over, to 15. He finds the change curious, until he realizes - you were preparing. Soon the flow of traffic around you is going just as fast. The speed limit on the signs decreases but no one on the highway around you seems to notice, all the cars collectively agreeing on 20 over as the standard speed. He watches in awe as the road rapidly widens, adding a third, a fourth, a sixth lane. 

You dart in and out of the center, never slowing much, overtaking semi trucks and cars with midwestern license plates. God, there’s a weirdly large number of Illinois plates on the road around here. Corey keeps his face turned towards you, partially because he’s captivated by watching you drive in this environment, and partially so he won’t make eye contact with any other drivers or passengers. People who might peer in your window and somehow recognize him through the darkness of the tint he’d so carefully applied.

Then suddenly, you slow almost to a stop. It’s impressive how smoothly you manage to break from 80 miles per hour all the way down to 3. The sea of cars that had been carrying you along at such a brisk pace has come to a crawl. You seek gaps in the traffic and pounce on them like a predator, aligning yourself into spaces tighter than parallel parking spots, sometimes actively forcing the cars behind to let you in. All the while keeping that same glowering expression, turning the music up everytime someone foils your plans or cuts you off, until the groove of the bass seems to replace Corey’s heart beat. 

He never imagined it could be sexy to watch someone drive in traffic. But it’s your huntress thing, all  your tiny daily acts of cunning and violence. You flick your turn signal on and off so casually, barely touching the steering wheel, laser focused but totally relaxed in this situation that would make so many other drivers nervous. He can’t help but reach across the console to put his hand on your thigh, feeling the muscles twitch as you switch rapidly between the pedals. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and smile. Heat floods his face and he feels himself harden. 

He needs you. He’s suffering so bad, but he can’t interrupt you. It occurs to him you might be showing off. He’s definitely… impressed. Finally the city falls away, and all the extra lanes with it. You almost go back to your default safe driving, but not quite. You stay just a little more reckless than normal. 

“Take the next exit,” he says. 

“We’re pretty close now. You can’t wait?” you say. He’s not sure if you’re pretending or if you really don’t know your peacocking worked on him. 

“No, I can’t wait.” His voice is low and urgent, and he digs his fingers into your thigh a little. He feels you tense up under his grip and he knows you understand him. 

You cross into the right lane and go down a corkscrewing exit ramp. At the bottom of the hill is a barren country road, state route something or other. You stay stopped at the stop sign for 10 full seconds to assess how much traffic is coming through. No cars go by, and none come to stop behind you. You go a little ways down the road until you see a gap in the woods along the shoulder, then back your car into the hole so it’s mostly obscured by the trees. 

“Backseat,” Corey says, already unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his door as you put it in park. You leave the car on and get in the backseat with him.

As soon as your door is closed he’s on top of you. He pulls you close to him with his arms circled around your waist, rotating his hips and hooking his outside leg around both of yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth. You let him maul you for a second before pushing him away. He looks into your eyes, face pinched in confusion. You look back at him with an open, innocent expression. You don’t say anything, so he pulls you back in and resumes kissing you with abandon. After a beat you push him away again. He feels genuinely stung. He loosens his arms around your waist even more so he can see your whole face, searching for an answer. 

“Wha-?” He can’t even get one word of his question out before you’re straddling his lap, taking advantage of his confusion to catch him off guard. You lace your fingers with his on both hands, and pin them next to his shoulders against the upholstery. “Oh…” he breathes out. 

You give him The Smile . You’ve never looked more radiant, but there’s something subtly sinister about it too. Still smiling at him, you start to roll your hips, pressing down on his cock through his jeans. He whimpers. You press his hands into the seat harder. It hurts his bad shoulder, but he likes it. He struggles just a little against your restraint, trying to get close enough to your face to kiss you, but you lean back just enough that he can’t reach you. Corey knows he could overpower you if he tried, but he enjoys being trapped underneath you, even as he gets more and more desperate. You rock your hips against him ruthlessly. He grinds up into you involuntarily. 

After what feels like forever, you lean down to kiss him. The kiss is surprisingly chaste, closed and feather light. The contrast with the lewd way you’re rubbing on him drives him crazy.  

"Please," he says against your lips. He's not really sure what he's asking for, he just knows he needs . "Please, please, please." 

He might not know what he's asking for, but you do. You untangle your fingers from his. He keeps his hands where you'd held them while you reach down between the two of you to unbutton his pants. You stand halfway up off his lap and pull his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. You pull apart from him and look down to admire it. A big bead of precum seeps out of his slit. You wipe it away with your thumb, then press that thumb against his lips, smearing. He opens his mouth and tries to take you in, but you pull away. You lick what’s left of his wetness off of your skin, then you sweep your tongue over his plush top lip. You kiss him deeply, and he tastes the precum mixed with your saliva. He’s never sampled himself before. He feels a little twinge of shame for enjoying it so much, but it passes quickly. You wanted him to taste it, you must have wanted him to like it.

You sit back down on him and wrap your fingers around his shaft. He shudders. You stroke his cock, rotating your wrist as you move your arm up and down, tugging him in time with the music that still fills the car. He thrusts his hips up, fucking your hand like his life depends on it. You run your free hand through his hair, scratching his scalp at the crown of his head before sliding to the nape of his neck and closing a tight fist around a bundle of curls. You pull his head back so his throat is exposed. With your tongue wide and flat, you lick all the way up from his clavicle peeking out of his collar, over his chin to his bottom lip. He whines your name, over and over, like a mantra.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to get close. You sense it and put your lips right by his ear. Your breath makes him shiver, he loves when you whisper to him and it pushes him that much further along.

“If you make a mess, everyone’s gonna know what we were doing when we get to the campground.” He pictures himself getting out of the car, a big sticky stain on his shirt. Shaking hands with the owner of the record store and praying your boss doesn’t look down. He kind of loves the idea of everyone knowing you made him cum so recently, that he’s so helplessly yours. But he knows you love your job and he would never jeopardize that. 

“What should we - fuck - what should we do?” His voice cracks. 

“There’s only one way to make sure there’s absolutely no mess,” you tell him. He doesn’t bother asking what you mean. He knows you’re going to show him and he knows it’s going to destroy him. 

You slide off his lap sideways, landing on the seat next to him, and arrange yourself so you’re sitting on your knees, one hand still grasping and stroking his cock. You bend down over him and take the tip in your mouth. The soft wetness enveloping him feels incredible. He screws up his face, trying hard to last just a little longer. You slide down his length, taking him into your throat until your nose bumps against his thigh. Then, sucking hard, you slide slowly back up. That’s the last straw. With a long, high pitched moan that doesn’t even feel like his voice, he cums in your mouth. 

You swallow his load and keep sucking, overstimulating him until he paws at you, desperate for a break from the sensation. You release him with an audible pop,  licking your lips as you straighten up and make eye contact with him. 

“Oh my god,” he offers weakly. You smile and plant a sweet kiss on his forehead.