#and the switch from indie to metal to psyche up for the mad max style roads lol

[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.