#top!corey cunningham

[toxicanonymity]

Objectification Headcanons

Michael Myers; Corey Cunningham

1.2k words | Gender Neutral / Varied Reader

when Michael Myers is staring out a window, he's broadcasting that he's available for your use. all you have to do is go inside and approach him if you wanna get dicked down. highly recommend.

post-Michael Corey Cunningham? he's basically always open for business. he doesn't even need to broadcast it because everyone knows, and we love him for it.

NSFW 18+ Variety of depravity within.

thx @dark-scape for helping me figure out what to call this lol. Corey tag list: @ethanhoewke

Michael Myers

When you walk in, he'll turn around like so. Guarantee he's already hard by the time you cross the room. Just seeing you turns him on.

If you want to get railed, all you have to do is run your hand over the bulge in his jumpsuit. This activates Classic Michael where he'll fuck you with no mercy.

In Classic Mode, if you want a specific position, you just need to assume that position. Want it against the wall? Stand with your back to the wall. Doggy? Get on all fours.

In Classic Mode, he is relentless. The catch is that you have to cum. If you try to leave before you cum, you might get your throat slit. I wouldn't risk it. For him to come, normally it won't take him long after you, if not instantaneously.

If you need Michael's cock down your throat, all you have to do is get on your knees and be ready for eye-watering face fucking.

To activate Feral Mode, unzip his jumpsuit and let the sleeves hang down. All bets are off now. He may pull your hair, smack your ass, pick you up and switch to different locations.

Feral mode is not for the faint of heart. Michael may get creative. You need to be okay with injuries. You will be bruised at the least.

If you prefer to ride him, grab his bulge more forcefully to activate Sub Mode. He'll walk stiffly and slowly to the nearest comfortable surface and sit or lay down. In this mode, you have to initiate everything, including unzip him. But don't be surprised if he can't help but add some thrusting power. He's human after all.

In Sub Mode, you are free to use his monster cock as a dong. You can impale yourself right away or rub that big veiny masterpiece between your legs for friction. You can do this until you come or impale yourself when you're ready. Feel free to also suck him off for extra rigidity and lube.

You may not under any circumstances remove his mask

You can put him up against the wall and fuck yourself on his rod. He's much better than a suction cup dong.

In sub mode, the catch is that HE has to come. You can't use him and leave him with blue balls.

Bottom Mode isn't guaranteed, but if you want Michael to take a dick or strap-on, strip him all the way down and finger him while you suck his dick first. If he does take it in the ass, be prepared for him to turn the tables violently at some point. There's a small chance he'll slash you, but that just adds to the excitement.

Regardless of what mode you want, you can up the intensity by bringing him someone to slash. The kill will make him rock hard.

Even when he's not staring out a window, you'll learn to recognize that far-off gaze. If you approach him in someone's yard, be ready to put on a show - there won't be time for a change of venue. Beware though, If it turns out he's in hot pursuit and you interrupt him, you might have a bad time.

Corey Cunningham (Post-Michael)

Let's be real, you don't have to catch Corey at a window or even in a trance. Unless he's occupied with a kill, another lover, or Michael, he's open for business.

That being said, poor Corey stared out the window for hours in the Halloween Ends Novelization and no takers noticed. :(

Corey's different modes can be activated verbally and with social cues in addition to touch.

He offers a little more than Michael in some ways - Corey is a kisser, gives head, is much more emotional and expressive than Michael, and is pretty open minded.

To activate Shape Mode, just check Corey out and make it obvious you like what you see. Corey will need to make you his, but he also needs to see you want it. He wants you to need him before he'll whip it out.

His eyes will darken and he'll become extremely seductive and persuasive. He'll grab your head with both hands and kiss you so fucking hard and smooth, you'll swoon. He'll back you into the wall or nearest surface.

He'll gaze into your eyes, put his fingers in your mouth, grind himself on you. His huge hands will roam all over your body until you're begging for his cock, and then he'll tease you with it, humping you, stripping you, rubbing against your dripping sex until you're dying to have him inside you.

An alternate way to activate Shape Corey is to find him at the shop and say your car has a rattle.

If you're a regular, he'll remember what you like.

In Feral Mode, Corey will choke you. He'll bend you over the furniture or take you against the wall. He'll talk dirty to you. He knows his voice drives you crazy. He'll tell you what a slut you are and how good you take his fat dick.

In Sub Mode, Corey will be a whimpering mess. His default will be to get on his knees and desperately nuzzle his head in between your legs, begging you to let him please you and you can instruct him from there.

He is more than happy to give you head. Be sure to give him lots of praise. He will eat pussy like he he's starving. He also eats ass and can slob a good knob.

If you want to suck him off, he'll whine and whimper and beg. But if you tell him to fuck your face, he'll do that too. He will probably narrate the whole time with dirty talk.

If you have Corey lie down or sit down for you to ride him, he'll be very vocal. His groans and moans might send you over the edge on their own. Those big hands will rove. He will not be still.

To activate Bottom Mode - if you want Corey to take a dick or toy - press it against his pants or jumpsuit and firmly drag it along his crack all the way to his balls and he'll eagerly cooperate.

In general, if he says Michael's name at any point, take it as a huge compliment. If you say Michael's name, you might not be able to walk the next day.

Corey Cunningham (Pre-Michael)

Post-Accident, Pre-Michael Corey would have been very hesitant and suspicious that you could even want to use him.

He would get hard, but he wouldn't have the confidence to worship you like the standard Sub Corey.

Turn him on enough and he would end up begging. An example is when he was working at the mall kiosk.

He wouldn't be expressive until he was physically inside you and even then he might be afraid that it's a trick.

I don't think pre-accident Corey would ho around or offer himself up for use, but he could be DTF in the right circumstances.

Corey & Michael

Corey and Michael do NOT have a free use arrangement with each other. Their dynamic is more complicated.

At first, Corey would have considered himself free for Michael's use at any time, but Corey doesn't take rejection well. As time goes on, he lashes out (i.e., taking the mask).

Unfortunately for Corey, Michael is never at his disposal. Corey is always going to be at Michael's mercy for whatever Michael will give him, if anything, at any given time. He may savor the occasional crumb like being permitted to grind himself against Michael's thigh with both of them fully clothed right after a kill.

Anything else is most likely to be situational, catching Michael in the heat of a kill , and may involve a third party.

[the-woman-upstairs]

Me and the bad bitch I pulled by being the town pariah for accidentally killing a kid.

[hersweetrevenge]

corey absolutely smashes it at those restaurants where they have like "finish in x minutes and get your food for free" type challenges.

[rebelliousstories]

Am I going to do Ficmas this year even though I never finished it last year?

Yes.

Am I going to release the unfulfilled Ficmas prompts leading up to Ficmas 2023 to make up for it?

Also yes.

[horrorslu7]

I would love to wake up to a few requests, just putting that out there ;]

(ps. You can find my prompt lists under the tag #prompts)

[lettherebemonsters]

For all my new Dead by Daylight followers, hit me up for plotting if you're interested!

The guys I dabble in Dead by Daylight are:

Harry Warden

Clowntrap

Leslie Vernon

Ben Willis

[phntmeii]

Slashers and Hanahaki Disease

[SFW + No Gendered Terms]

Hanahaki Disease: A fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies.

Characters: Poly!Ghostface(Billy Loomis, Stu Macher), PreMichael!Corey Cunningham, Hannibal Lecter(TV Ver.), Jason Voorhees, RZ!Michael Myers

General Warnings: Mainly fluffy w/ happy endings, Mentions of death, Mentions of vomiting/gagging

A/N: Half the listed characters will have Hanahaki disease while the other half the reader has Hanahaki disease. Some other notes, I sped up how quickly Hanahaki affects people to a few weeks at max and included what type of flower I think would best fit in these situations :) Most are related to heartbreak, loss, death/rebirth, unrequited love.

Poly!Ghostface - Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

Flower Type: Purple Hyacinth

You had taken some days off of class, feeling too sick to go. Your parents didn’t believe you but you looked the definition of ill.

And heartbreak was just the cherry on top for you. Whether you had feelings for Billy or for Stu was already confusing but on top of that, you felt like you weren’t either of their types.

You had seen the people they went out with over the years and you were just never like them. Your own love life was failure after failure but it's not like they were offering themselves up in their place.

You were just the bestfriend in your mind. That’s all. And soon enough, violet petals were being thrown up into the toilet bowl every few hours and you could feel your lungs filling, getting hard to breathe over time.

Both Billy and Stu thought it was weird you skipped class. You’d at least give a heads up beforehand. Billy was more worried than Stu was.

He visited through your window at night to check in on you just to catch you in a pile of violet flowers across your bed covers while you laid there, casually watching a movie while you occasionally coughed some more up.

“What the fuck is that? Are you okay? Me and Stu thought you up and died.”

Looking over, you gave a weak smile in response. “Feels like I am.”

Soon you heard some clanging from the window Billy came in from and found Stu stumbling in, nearly knocking some things down before he hopped back up.

Stu gave a goofy smile as he held up some bottles before Billy looked at him with unamused eyes and snatched the bottles out of his hands as if to say, “Not now.”

Sitting down with you, asking what was wrong. You tried to explain but it sounded so silly. Throwing up flowers? And for seemingly no reason.

“Well… There’s diseases that are caused by stress? You think it’s something like that? Come on. You’ve been acting like shit for the past few weeks.”

You sat there between them and could think of one main thing but… How stupid that sounded. You didn’t want to say it.

Stu shook your shoulders playfully before getting smacked in the back of the head by Billy. “Come on! Tell us! What’s so embarrassing~?”

You sighed and reluctantly explained. You had a crush on them—your bestfriends—and you were definitely not their type. You were completely embarrassed, covering your mouth as you coughed up a few more violet petals.

Billy and Stu stared at each other after you said that, as if silently communicating to one another. Billy slowly smirked while Stu started laughing and wrapped his arms around you from the side.

“Seriously?! Holy shit, dude! You seriously haven’t noticed we were totally into you too?!”

You couldn’t even process what Stu said with how tight he squeezed you with his hug. By the time you finally noticed, you were once again distracted when you felt two different hands holding your jaw as Billy leaned in from one side while Stu leaned in the other and kissed your cheeks.

“ We’ve been into you forever…” Those small words felt like they made room within your lungs again.

PreMichael!Corey Cunningham

Flower Type: Red Salvia

Corey had met you in passing and you didn’t mind becoming friends with him. He was an awkward nerd and it was a trait you found charming to be friends with.

But to Corey, it was hell when he discovered the petals that soon formed and flew out of his mouth.

He had developed a crush on you immediately when he met you. You were simultaneously his heaven and hell. Someone so nice to him and yet the reason he found it harder and harder to breathe.

He avoided you for a week or so. He was so used to self-isolating himself when something went wrong. Deal with it himself as he always did.

Corey figured it was connected to you. It started the day after he felt those feelings rise in him. To make sure, he visited the doctor’s and found the term: Hanahaki Disease. And it was because of you.

He didn’t want to say anything about it. His fate was sealed in his eyes. But… maybe?

He decided to send a text to meet up. Better to talk about it in person even if it made him nervous to.

“Hey… I- I really didn’t want to y’know bother you or anything-“ “Corey, you don’t bother me. It’s alright. What is it?”

Corey shyly looked down and smiled to himself. God, it hurt to think that you wouldn’t like him. You were so perfect for him.

“I know this is gonna sound weird and if I'm honest I thought it was weird too. I-I’m… dying. From uh… Not having requited love...” As if on queue, he coughed, revealing red petals flying out of his mouth to the ground.

You were obviously immediately worried. To hear such heavy words from Corey made your heart drop. You had to ask who. Maybe he could still convince them to share the same feelings.

Corey scratched the back of his head, looking away. He didn’t want to say it. Especially since he didn’t want to leave you with the news that it was because of you that he had an expiration date coming soon.

“It’s… you. It’s always been you.”

A few whole Red Salvia flowers came out of his mouth after the confession. He grew increasingly embarrassed, wanting to take back his words already. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Just let his life take its course and end quick without you knowing.

But then, those moments of silence were interrupted by you approaching and placing a gentle kiss on his lips. His lips were slightly chapped from nerves and his overthinking made him think he should’ve done something about them sooner but he was more focused on how soft you felt. His heart swelled at the touch while his hands went to your cheeks, deepening the kiss further out of pure need.

Hannibal Lecter

Flower Type: Red Spider Lily

Hannibal was not one to ever be sick. It rarely happened, if ever. He took care of his health perfectly.

When he started to feel himself grow ill, he immediately knew something was wrong. Coughing was one thing but it was a completely different thing to find himself feeling the urge to vomit and finding flowers fly out of his mouth.

Staring at the red flowers in the toilet bowl, he already knew it wasn’t something normal. In fact, he already knew what it was.

The knowledgeable man he was, Hanahaki was a term that came to mind but with a sense of confusion.

He didn’t necessarily care for people like others did. His “care” for other people was a mask of feigned empathy. Not real.

But if he had this disease, something was different. And it was love of all things? It complicated everything.

There was only one person that came to mind that could possibly fit the supposed feeling he felt: You. His patient.

He kept it hidden still. Suffering in silence because falling in love was not something he was interested in. It would cloud his emotions.

And yet, he began asking about your love life during your sessions. Previous relationships, expectations of love, etc. A collection of information to mold himself into what you wanted.

He invited you over for dinners more and presented you with flowers each session. Each bouquet with meaning and cleanly composed together.

You were his muse. The focus of his musical compositions and the focus of his sketches when he had free time.

His eyes even sparkled softly toward you sometimes if you looked close enough.

But Hannibal knew his days were numbered and he had to say something before the flowers filled his lungs and killed him.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it. His vomiting became more frequent and he could feel how difficult it was to breathe.

After one of your dinners with him and he was walking you to the door, he stopped you. Taking your chin between his fingers, he gently tilted your face to look at him.

“My dear… Please indulge me in my desire for you. It’s grown insatiable.”

He started to lean in toward your lips. He’d memorized the shape a thousand times over through his sketches by now. Each quick line put to paper was a written wish to feel them on his own. “I’ll grow mad without knowing what you taste like.”

His eyes met yours when he was centimeters away from your lips, breath mixing into one another’s. “Tell me you wish the same.”

His eyes looked to you with a slight desperation to them. Once he received the confirmation, that soft whisper of a “Yes…”, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and felt like life had been breathed into him.

Jason Voorhees

Flower Type: Lily of the Valley

Jason hadn't thought about romance much in his life, not thinking he'd be fortunate to experience it. He thought he had a face only his mother could love after all.

Finding you, you were never mean to him. If anything, you were solely kind to him and he was happy at the treatment.

Then worry set in when he noticed you weren't coming to the cabin as often. You usually visited and left some meals for him and candles to dedicate to his mother.

He worried heavily. Jason automatically believed he was in the wrong. Maybe he had scared you or had done something wrong. He was never good at social cues or interacting with people.

He sat there, waiting for you to come back. You wouldn't completely leave right? Or maybe something happened to you? What if you were dead?

Jason could only find his worries settled when he heard footsteps and saw you again. He immediately rushed out and hugged you.

He signed, "Where have you been?? I was so worried!"

Jason noticed you seemed paler than normal and you looked exhausted. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"

He didn't know how to take care of someone who was sick. His mother always took care of him. But he was willing to try.

"I... Yeah. I'm sick, Jason. I've been sick for a week or so now. Vomiting and all."

You couldn't see his expression but he was certainly concerned. He placed a hand on your shoulder. "I'll take care of you."

Whether you wanted to or not, Jason was already dragging you inside and sitting you down. He didn't know how to help, only that he wanted to help.

That's when you coughed and small white petals flew out of your mouth and into your lap. Jason tilted his head at that. Flowers? He had never heard of someone coughing up flowers before.

Jason forcibly kept you in the cabin until you could get better. You were his only friend. The only one who treated him like a person. He didn't want to lose that.

Few days pass and nothing. Petals had become full flowers with stems needing to be yanked out. You gagged each time you had to rip out the flower by its stem.

You thought you might die. A sickness you had never heard of along with it getting quickly worse? You couldn't help but recognize where this was going.

You laid beside Jason at night. He was attached to the hip with you in your stay. You figured now was a better time than never saying it at all.

You took his hand into yours, something that made Jason give you his full attention. "Jason. I just wanted you to know that... I love you. I need you to know that."

Jason could feel his heart jolt at that confession. It was said in a more sad tone than a happy one but all the same, it was the words said that mattered. "Do you mean it? Are you sure?"

Nodding your head with a weak smile, you placed a kiss on the cheek of his mask. Jason could feel his face heat up at that. No one had ever treated him like that before.

He grabbed your hands, maybe a bit too strong in his grasp, as he signed rapidly in excitement. "I love you too. You're the only one who likes me. I want you to stay. Please."

You felt slight pain in your lungs as the stems that had begun taking root in them slowly retracted and dissipated. He was your cure.

RZ!Michael Myers

Flower Type: White Rose

Michael had inhabited your home for some time. He needed a home base to return to when he wasn’t stalking for victims.

You couldn’t say much against it, fearing you’d be next. And he wasn’t the worst guest?

Besides blood needing to be cleaned, he was silent. You could barely even notice him there if it wasn’t for his giant size.

Over time, you noticed how he grew closer to you. Literally. He loomed over you while you cooked or cleaned. You’d get jumpscared by how you’d turn a corner and see him standing there. He also started preventing you from leaving if he was there.

Michael would stand in front of the door, staring you down until you understood to stay home. Seeing you listen, he gave the most affection he’d ever show: patting your head.

And you grew an odd attachment to him. You’d worry if he was out for too long and worried if he ever came back injured.

You two were attached. In what way, you couldn’t answer that question but you didn’t mind being close to him. Even if he never showed affection or attachment, you knew he felt something. Otherwise, you would’ve been dead already.

Michael never spoke nor gave indication of what he was feeling ever. You could only ever notice the extremes. And when you noticed Michael in his room for longer than normal, you wanted to help even if he always pushed you away.

You knocked but no answer. Knocked twice and still nothing. You took that as a “no entry” and sadly turned away.

Right as you did, the door opened and Michael looked to you with his same deadpan stare you always knew. His hands littered with white rose petals. You didn’t understand until he coughed again, more petals coming out.

You didn’t know how to react to it other than to grow concerned. His hands dropped the petals and grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them. His eyes looked to you and for the first time, there was a slight hint of fear there.

It was odd to see such a large man who had survived hell and back to show fear now. You guided him to the couch, wanting him to feel comfortable.

You grabbed his hand, forgetting how he was a murderer, forgetting how his hands were responsible for the deaths of so many. “Michael…”

He exhaled in response, looking at you through the strands of hair covering his face. He forcibly grabbed your hand, pulling you to him. Ending up in his lap, he held onto you, still silently staring. He buried his head in your chest, squeezing you tight. He didn’t want to let go.

You let your arms hold him to you, caressing the back of his head. You placed a small kiss to the top of his head.

“Michael… It’s okay. I’m here.”

Michael couldn’t take finally having an affectionate touch after so long. Restraint was something he never knew and letting himself have an ounce of it was like opening Pandora’s box. He pulled away and slammed his lips into yours. He pushed you down on the couch, placing his hands on either side of your face, trapping you there.

And yet, you didn’t deny him. You matched his desperate, sloppy kiss. And Michael could feel the air in his lungs return only to be immediately used from his kissing and grunting. And you knew where this was going when you felt his slight runting against your leg.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[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.  

[cybercore-creations]

Corey Cunningham Relationship HCs

• I'm gonna start with pre-micheal, post-accident, that's my favorite Corey

• You're going to have to protect him from bullying because if you don't someone is gonna get hurt (Just watch the movie)

• Pet names!!!!! He loves them. Will literally melt

• Most dates are inside or on top of the radio tower

• He's really sensitive so physical affection is a must

• He doesn't actually have a license. He rides the motorcycle and prays he doesn't get stopped

• REALLY bad nightmares. The accident with Jeremy constantly haunts him

• He teaches you how to fix your car on your own

• The perfect gentleman honestly

• Okay Post-Micheal Corey

• Still doesn't have a license,,,,

• But takes you on his motorcycle all the time!

• Constantly paranoid, so you're going to have to go through grounding techniques

• A lot more willing to go on dates in public places

• Low key his anger issues are so much worse

• Horney level sky rockets

• If you thought he was clingy before, oh bud you're in for a whole different level

• Very protective. Like fight people in the streets protective (Pls stop him before he gets arrested)

• Now Both

• Have fun dealing with an insane mother-in-law, she's got an iron grip on him /neg

• Brings you into work with him

• Loves getting out of town to watch the stars

• 100% plays guitar for you

• 10/10 boyfriend honestly.

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Fictober Seasonal Menu:

This is were you will find all the Fictober fics in one compact place. Pick what you would like to order whether it be a cold apple cider to cool down after a long day, or a pumpkin spice latte to warm yourself up on those cold fall nights. We also serve two types of season pastry to go along with your choice of drink. Each item corresponds with one of the weeks of Fictober, The key is as follows: Apple Ciders: Your general fluffy basic fics (Some do have a bit of a spicey kick to them), Days 1-7. Pumpkin Spice Lattes: Smut, smut and more smut, Days 8-14. Apple Crumbles: Nsfw Alphabets, Days 15-22

Apple Ciders: Days 1-7

Day 1: Corey Cunningham

Day 2: Thomas Hewitt

Day 3: Billy and Stu (Poly)

Day 4: Lester Sinclair

Day 5: Rusty Nail

Day 6: Nubbins Sawyer

Day 7: The Lost Boys (Poly)

Pumpkin Spice Lattes: Days 8-14

Day 8: Vincent Sinclair

Day 9: Chop-Top Sawyer

Day 10: Johnny Slaughter

Day 11: Billy and Stu (Poly) Part 2

Day 12: Otis Driftwood

Day 13: Hellboy

Day 14: Mark Hoffman

Apple Crumbles: Days 15-22

Day 15: Bo Sinclair NSFW Alphabet

Day 16: Charles Lee Ray NSFW Alphabet

Day 17: Jack Torrance NSFW Alphabet

Day 18: Harry Warden NSFW Alphabet

Day 19: Brahms Heelshire NSFW Alphabet

Day 20: Rz Michael Myers NSFW Alphabet

Day 21: Billy Lenz NSFW Alphabet

Day 22: Billy Loomis NSFW Alphabet

[toxicanonymity]

A lift and two screws (one shot)

Words: 4.5k | Pairing: Corey Cunningham x f!Reader Summary: You go to Prevo Auto to get your car fixed after hours, and the handsome mechanic rails you twice.  Notes: Reader has breasts and a vagina and can be lifted by Corey. Um, please excuse the lack of mechanic knowledge.

WARNINGS: I8+ P in V, mildly dubcon, choking, finger sucking. I'll be honest, rereading this >1 yr later, the size kink, hand kink, and voice kink all go pretty hard lmao be nice this was like my third week writing.

Your car’s persistent rattle has gotten to the point that you’re finally bringing it into Prevo on your way home from work. You turn into the property and dust kicks up under your tires as you make your way to the mechanic shop.  The sun is just starting to set. 

One garage door is open and another is closed.  You pull up to the open door and park outside. You get out of your car and don’t see anyone in the garage.  In the office, there are shadows moving.  You look at the glass door trying to find their hours but it’s blank.  

Out of view, you hear someone working on a truck in the garage.  You call, “Hello?” And hear something clatter.  “Just a sec!” a deep, gruff voice answers.  

The glass door to the office opens and the blinds rattle.  Ronald steps out holding a clipboard.  He’s wearing a pen behind his ear.  “You dropping off?” 

“Actually, I’d like to wait if possible.” 

“Sorry kid, we’re about to close.  You’re welcome to drop it off though.”

You should have known it was too late.  “It’s okay, it’s just a rattle, it’s not urgent.  I’ll try to get here earlier tomorrow.” 

“Sure thing,” Ronald says.  Before he heads back in the office, he says “Corey! Time to close up.”  

Corey Cunningham emerges from behind the truck.  He’s wiping oil off his forehead.   He was always sturdy, but damn, he’s looking good. Whenever you’ve seen him in the past, he was dressed in layers, so you couldn’t really see his body.  And it was almost like he was cowering.  You can’t blame him - Haddonfield has treated him horribly.  Something’s changed now. It’s not just the uniform. He carries himself differently, and for the first time you’re noticing he’s built like a football player. He never struck you as athletic before.

He takes a pair of goggles off and fluffs his curls with a huge, dirty hand. As his hand flexes, a vein bulges between his wrist and one of his thick knuckles.  Now, those are the hands of a man, you think.   “Hey,” he says. His voice is deep and husky.  “What’s up?” He crosses his large arms and shifts his weight to one leg.  You can’t take your eyes off his body.  His uniform hugs his hefty frame.  

“Hey, it’s just a rattle.   I’ll bring it back tomorrow, no worries,” you say.  

You start to get back in your car, then Corey says, “Hey, uh,”  looking over his shoulder to make sure the door closes behind Ronald.  He lowers his voice.  “Come back in an hour. I got you.” His low, gravely voice just melts you, and you savor the closeness created by his near-whisper.  

“Really? I don’t think it’s urgent.” 

“Nah, I’ll be here. Better just to get it done,” he says.  “If you want, of course.” He takes his eye glasses and a pinky ring out of his chest pocket and puts them on. 

“Yeah, okay.  Sure, sounds good.” 

-

You go home and take off your work clothes.  You put on jeans, a tank top, and a zip-up hoodie.  When you get back, it’s dark.  Corey lets you into the gate.  His uniform is unzipped to the waist, revealing a white tshirt under the blue fabric.  You park outside the closed garage and roll down your window.   

His ass fills the seat of his jumpsuit as he crouches down to grab the handle of the garage.  He is built.  At least a dozen muscles in his back flex as he lifts the door. The size of his hand makes the handle look small.  His other hand assists from the bottom of the door as it goes up.   You can’t take your eyes off his hands.  “I’ve just gotta move this truck to free up the lift.  It’ll take a minute..”  

“Okay,” you say.  You get out of your car and lean against it.  “Mind if I watch?”  The garage is dimly lit, but you can see enough. 

“Uh, sure,” he says, as he grabs a huge tool box by a handle that doesn’t fit all his fingers.  He sets the tool box down and grabs a tire off the ground.  His big thighs and arms flex as he carries it to the truck.  His glutes press against his jumpsuit with each step.  He gets back to the truck and squats down with the tire, his thighs and hamstrings straining the fabric. You try not to drool.    

He catches you staring.  He pulls his arms out of his jumpsuit and lets it hang at the waist.  His arms are tan and look even bigger with the sleeves of his tshirt hugging his biceps. You’re getting wet.  His torso is like a tree trunk, and his back and side muscles move as he uses a wrench to put the tire on.  Even the wrench looks small in his sculpted hand.  His knuckles are so distinct, they keep catching your eye.  You know he must be good with those hands.  

When he stands back up, he ties the jumpsuit sleeves around his waist.  Then he gets in the truck and moves it outside the garage, parking it in the lot.  He comes jogging back and a flood light hits him, his hair and hard pecs bouncing slightly. You can’t remember being turned on by a guy’s pecs before, but they’re so hard. His whole torso is like a sturdy rack of muscle.  “Alright, let’s bring it in,” he says, as he walks into the garage.  Everything sounds sexy in his voice.  

He directs you as you park your car, then jogs back to the garage door.  He pulls the door down before you’re even out of your car.  Your stomach starts to flutter.  You’re essentially captive in here now, and no one knows you’re here.  Not that he would do anything, but you wonder if you should have at least told your roommate where you were going.  

You open your car door and he catches it with one massive hand.  He stands there with his imposing figure between the door and the frame of your car, and squats down so your faces are just a foot or so apart.  “So, I hear the rattle.”  His voice is low and thick.  “Is that all?” He asks. There are a few faint, purple bruises on his broad  neck, you wonder what from  

“Yeah, that’s all,” you confirm.  With his arm holding the door, you can smell his masculine musk and your nipples pucker.  His arm. . . He looks like he could carry you with one arm, honestly.  

He's kind of blocking you from getting out of your car.  You wonder if you’re supposed to stay inside it.  You also start to wonder if this is really a bad situation.  Your body definitely wants to be here, but your survival instincts are making some calculations.  He’s only a couple of inches taller than you, but he’s so solid and hefty you wouldn’t stand a chance in a struggle.  Your best bet would be to run.  But run from what? 

He moves only slightly - enough to signal that you can get out of the car now, but not enough to give you enough space to do so. The meaty thigh of his jumpsuit grazes your jeans as you maneuver your way out.  The contact sends a shockwave through your body. “Sorry,” you say.” He looks you in the eye. You scold yourself for how turned on you are in this super sketch situation. 

“Don’t be sorry.” His eyes darken. He lets the air thicken with tension before getting more casual again. “Alright, let me just hit the lift and grab two screws.“ 

You hover near the front of your car while he grabs what he needs.   He takes off his glasses and puts them on a workbench. He hits a button on the wall and your car is lifted up slightly off the ground.   He rides an under-car roller like a skateboard on his way back.

He expertly stops the roller right in front of you and eases it between you and your car.  “You still wanna watch?” He asks in a sultry but masculine way.  He holds eye contact with you then glances down at the under-car roller. 

You can’t find words, but you nod and start to move so you can give him space to work.

“Don’t move.” He stops you,, giving your palm a quick squeeze with the large, calloused pads of his fingers.  Butterflies swarm from your core to your chest.  Every light touch, every word he says stirs more warmth and need in your core.  He kicks the inside of one of your sneakers.  “Just a little.”  Is he telling you to spread your legs?  You do it.  

His thick fingers lightly brush against both your hips as he lowers himself onto the under-car roller.  It’s as if he’s bracing himself, but he’s barely touching you.  His hands on your sides make you feel tiny.  He leaves his hands lightly touching your calves as he sits there for a moment.  Driven crazy by the light touch, your body wants something more.  He eases his ass onto the roller and extends his legs so they’re between yours.  You’re standing upright aside from your legs being spread.  They’re not bent, you’re not crouching.  You’re looking down at him.   Your heart is a mile a minute. 

His curly head is right at your crotch, inches away.  The air is electric with potential energy. His back is against the grill of your car, and his legs are extended under the A-frame made by yours.  He looks at your pants. His eyes move back and forth between your zipper and button.   “K.  I’ll be right back,” he says softly to your jeans without looking up.  It’s like he’s talking to your cunt. His irises are so dark they’re practically black.  

His thick paws go from your calves to your ankles.  He scoots forward a little as he lowers his back to the roller. You don’t move. His curly hair grazes your crotch.  He’s briefly staring up at your crotch before he grabs under the car with both hands and pulls himself under. His feet are barely visible.  He’s under there for less than a minute before he’s done.  “That should do it,” he says from under your car. Your legs are still spread.

His feet begin to slide out from under the car, then his shins and sculpted knees.  His boots reach your sneakers.  He turns his feet outward and hooks his boots on your ankles to pull himself back out, his knees bending as his torso emerges from under the car.  His legs are butterflied and his meaty thighs frame his crotch.  This position stretches his uniform and you can just barely see a bulbous area where his legs meet his ass.  

He brings his huge hands to his knees and uses them to sit up.  His thick fingers spread beyond each of his knees even though his knees are large, too. He swivels around then  leans his back against the grill of your car and puts his hands back on his knees and looks up at you.  

“That was quick,” you say.  “Can I move now?” 

“Do you want to?” He asks without missing a beat.  You bring your feet back to a normal position.  He scoots himself closer to you, then runs his large, rough hands up your jeans as he stands up.  He doesn’t step back.  He uses one foot to discard the under-car roller without taking his eyes off you.  It reaches the far wall with a small crash.  His black irises dart back and forth between your eyes.  He has a hulking presence.  

He hooks his meaty fingers into your front pockets and slowly starts to step backwards towards the drivers side of your car, bringing you with him.  When he gets to your car door, he pulls the handle and it clicks the door ever so slightly open.  He pivots around you so you’re between him and the door, but he’s practically right up against you.  “Do you wanna go?” he asks.  “I’ll go hit the lift.”

Your whole body is humming with desire.  Your breath is shallow.  Your face is hot.  He unties the sleeves from around his waist and lets them hang.  There is a clear bulge in his jumpsuit.   He backs up a little and puts a hand on your car and leans there, instead of into you, allowing you space if you want to get in your car.  

You can’t speak, but you bite your lip and shake your head no.  

"Good,” he says.  "I don't want you to go." One large hand effortlessly pushes the door flush again with a click.  His hands are smeared in oil.  It’s probably all over your jeans, but you don’t care.  You lean your back against your car. He moves closer, closing the gap between you.  His large hands come to your waist.  He presses himself against you, pelvis first.  His solid girth is apparent through your soft-washed jeans.  The rest of his thick torso presses against you, and your faces are inches apart. 

His black eyes gaze into yours hungrily.  His full lips form half a smile, then it fades.   His arousal grinds into you  Your lips part and you gasp.  His lips lay into yours  hard, and he’s inhaling through his nose as he presses his mouth into yours hungrily, like he needs your lips locked with his in order to breathe.  He parts your lips with his tongue for a taste. He kisses you aggressively, like he’s taking something from you. He pulls back and his eyes have darkened even more. 

His hard member grinds into you slowly, rhythmically.  Your clit is pulsing and your cunt is aching to be filled.   His massive  hand slips between you and the car and grabs your ass.  The hand easily spans an entire cheek.  You take his other hand in yours and marvel at the size of his fingers. You run your small thumb over a scab in the middle of his palm. You hold his heavy fingers in your hand, looking over them one by one, and he brings the hand to your face.   His pinky ring is cold against your cheek.  

His thumb gently parts your mouth and it's larger than both your lips together. You open your jaw to accept its girth and greet it with your tongue.  You close your lips and suck his thumb lightly, then harder.  All the while, he grinds his hardness into you and you roll your hips back.  He feels even bigger and harder now.  You clean his massive digits with your mouth, one by one.  

Even his pinky feels large in your mouth. You taste the metal of his ring and gently close your teeth against his skin.  He lets you take off the ring and you use your mouth to deposit it on your thumb.  He watches you curiously with those dark eyes.  The pinky ring is too loose even on your thumb.  You use your hands to put it back on him, and he moves his hand to your jeans. 

His hand engulfs your entire front as he palms you outside your jeans. He can't fit his whole hand between your legs without you spreading them. He uses his central three fingers to rub you just how you like.  You both breathe heavily. His lips come to your neck and suck.  You feel the pain of a hickey forming and reflexively pull away.  He uses his massive hand to pull your neck back to his mouth, then unzip your hoodie as he devours your neck.  He grabs a breast powerfully, like he’s consuming your whole body at once.  He sucks your neck harder this time.  "You're mine," he growls.  You want it to be true. You don't want him to ever let go.  

His enormous hand goes to your jeans and undoes the button.  He lowers the zipper as he continues to suck your neck, and you squirm, desperate for his cock.  He slides the same three fingers into your jeans and feels how wet you are. "Fuck," he breathes.  "You want it, don't you." He thrusts his clothed arousal into your thigh and you reach down to receive it.  You feel his thick, juicy cock through his clothes, and god, it's SO hard.  You reach your hand into his jumpsuit and boxers. The girth dwarfs your hand. You've never seen a cockhead this fat. 

You palm the tip where pre-cum is pearling and reach your fingers around it. You never thought you'd have a fist full of cock-head. He continues to rub you and you pump his cock to the same rhythm. His other hand comes to your fist on his cock.  His hand dwarfs yours as you stroke him together.  You use your other hand to wriggle your jeans down.

Your sensitive pearl throbs. Your empty cunt contracts and aches in need.  Your body is begging to be filled with his. You frantically kick off your shoes.  He reaches down to your foot and hooks two large fingers into your pant leg, grazing the sensitive arch of your foot.  He yanks the pant off your leg with one  jerk and leaves them lying pathetically around the other ankle;  there's no time to bother with it. He hooks his girthy thumbs into the sides of his jumpsuit, helping it down over his muscular ass and hefty thighs, then  letting the fabric fall around his ankles.  Each of his thighs is the size of your torso.  

He presses himself against you so his naked thighs are against yours and he rubs his fat cock against your folds.  You feel like you could come any second.   He brings a massive hand under each of your thighs and effortlessly lifts your weight, readying his cock to enter you.  His cock is so wide you aren’t sure it’ll fit, but you’re wet enough that anything might.   

Your inner thigh muscles feel a pleasant stretch as your legs are wrapped around his thick, sturdy torso, your jeans dangling from one foot.  He’s holding all of your weight.  You nestle the head of his cock into position and he thrusts immediately.  His cock head plunges inside, parting your folds.  It feels so good as it fills you up.  He thrusts again and pulls your body down on his cock.  

Now he’s all the way inside. “Oh god, Corey,”  It’s like you’re physically complete for the first time in your life.  His hands hold your back and ass and you roll your hips and hang on tight around his thick neck as you ride him.  You can feel the bulk of his abs against your clit as you go up and down on his cock.  You start to come and your jeans finally fall to the ground as you grind your hips into him and ride several strong pulsing waves.  As you clench around him, he moans your name, and his meaty fingers dig into your skin.  He moves you harder up and down his cock, and then you feel him erupt.  He wraps his bear arms around you tight as his fat cock empties itself into you.

As you both finish pulsating, you kiss his thick neck.  You look down over his shoulder and watch the muscles of his burly back rise and fall with his breaths.  He lowers you to the ground so you’re both standing.  He leans back against your car and you fold into him.  You feel small.  He’s still wearing his work boots and you’re barefoot.  And he’s just so broad.  You catch your breath for a few minutes and he strokes your hair.  

-

“Uh oh,” he says, and you look down and see your jeans in a puddle of oil.  You step away to survey the damage. He pulls his jumpsuit back up over his ass but doesn’t zip it.  He goes to the wall to lower your car back down.  You grab a pair of shorts from the gym bag you keep in your car and slip them on.  You ask if you can freshen up and he brings you into the office.  You go through a waiting area that has a couch, a TV, and a few chairs, and there’s a restroom. 

In the mirror, you survey the damage - Your hair is a wreck.  Expected.  One side of your neck is red and purple.  You had forgotten about that.  At least it’s cold enough to wear turtlenecks.  

His deep voice booms from the break room, “YOU WANT A CHOCOLATE MILK?” His voice is so sexy - the depth, the edge, the northern accent.  

“YES PLEASE,” you answer.   Chocolate milk sounds amazing right now. Corey walks into the waiting room wearing the t-shirt, boxers, and socks.  The jumpsuit and work boots are gone. Even without the boots, every step he takes is so heavy.  He has a bottle of chocolate milk and two glasses.  He pours you a glass as you admire his burly body.  His strong arms, his broad chest, his bulging thighs.  His beautiful back.  You want to memorize it.  

He turns on the TV.  You curl up against him.  You feel like a little cat, dwarfed by his body.  You watch an episode together.  At a commercial break, he goes and gets another chocolate milk to share.  

The next episode starts, and you bring the cool glass to your neck to ease the soreness.  It hurts.  As you begin to feel some relief, Corey’s eyes darken and he puts down his chocolate milk.  “You better not cover that up,” he says gruffly.  

You’re startled.  “I, um-” 

“Let everyone see you’re mine.”  Are you? Your heart sings. 

He takes the glass out of your hand and puts it down on the table next to his. He starts to prowl toward you on the couch.  His thighs are so muscular.  He lunges toward you, over you, slowly but forcefully.  You uncurl and back up.  Your back is flat against the couch and he’s over you.  You don’t move.   His physical presence shadows and engulfs you.   He’s caging you to the couch with both arms and both legs as his torso hovers above you.  You pull your legs together, shrinking.  He puts his knees down on either side and straddles you.  

Corey sits back on his bulging haunches and looks at you.  Then he snarls and brings his broad torso closer to your chest.  He brings his expansive hand to your little neck.  His massive fingers trace the bruises delicately until suddenly his hand clamps down. You can’t breathe.   You cough and feel your face turning red.  He’s doing it with one hand, that’s all it takes.  

“God, you look hot with my hand around your neck,”  he says as he loosens his grip a little. You’re sure it’s true - his hand looks hot around anything.  The contrast with your delicate neck would be a devastating sight.  He brings his pelvis to yours and you feel him getting hard. You cough again. 

He lets go of your neck, then slips his expansive hand into your tank top and bra and brings his lips to your neck sweetly.  Your breast is dwarfed by his palm. He caresses you lightly and your nipple hardens, then he cups your whole soft breast in the palm of his hand.  He brushes it lightly with his palm again as he moves to the other breast.  His hand is so massive that he could touch both nipples at the same time if he wanted to - one with his thumb and one with his pinky.  

You feel his arousal strengthen as he fondles your breasts.  He lowers his body weight onto you.  You can barely breathe, but it’s so hot being crushed by his hulking form.  You’re getting wet, and you feel him getting harder and harder.  He nudges the crotch of your loose gym shorts aside and presses several expansive digits against your wet folds.  Your cunt is already aching for his girth again.  He strokes your sensitive pearl and your breath quickens.  

He uses his thumb to continue while he plunges his middle finger into your entrance.  It floods your body with warmth.  He follows it with another finger and thrusts them in and out of you together.   Your back arches in delight.   His hand is so large, he practically holds you like a bowling ball.  You imagine he could pick you up like this.  He’s working his thumb and huge fingers in all the right places.  The cold metal of his pinky ring sends a shiver up your spine when it hits your ass cheek.  You find yourself approaching climax faster this time.  

He frees his cock from his boxers and drives it all the way into you.  The force pushes your head gently upward against the arm of the couch. He thrusts again, harder and deeper, but slow.  He continues slowly, and you slowly roll your hips into him, but the pace is about to drive you crazy.  You were so close to coming and now he’s edging you.  

Corey brings his lips to your neck and kisses your bruises softly, then meets your lips hungrily.  You kiss hard and sloppily, breathing hotly against each other’s mouths as he keeps fucking you, but gradually quickens the pace.  You look into each other’s eyes, and his darkness is so hot to you.  You love the feeling of his fat cock pounding into you, and you wish he’d never take it out.  

You love his whole burly body.  You pull him closer, desperate to have all his skin against yours.  You curl your fingers under his shirt and he lets you remove it, revealing the most solid torso you could have imagined.  You remove your own shirt then bra and press your breasts into his chest.  His skin is smooth, only lightly covered by fine hair.  He fucks you harder and faster and you feel beads of his sweat run between your breasts.  You run your hands over his back and feel the intricacies of his strong muscles moving as he fucks you.  

His breathing changes.  “Fuck,” he says, and starts to come. His voice and pulsations send you, and you come even harder than the first time.  As your cunt clenches on his cock, you wish it would never let go.  You hug him into you as you both finish coming.  He lies there with all his weight on you, like a magnificent weighted blanket, with his cock still inside you, until you really need to breathe and reluctantly shift your pelvis to nudge him out and partly off you.  You’ll doze off nestled into the couch with half his weight on you.  

You bring your fingertips to your bruises as you drift off to sleep.  You’re not going to wear a turtleneck. 

THANK YOU FOR READING

if you like Corey, there's more where this came from: my Tumblr index

[kiss-theggoat]

Master-List:

Art the Clown:

Art Was Here

Art the Clown Head-Cannons

Specs

Billy Lenz:

Over the Phone

Billy Loomis:

Familiar Pt. 1

Familiar Pt. 2

Familiar Pt. 3

Familiar Pt. 4

Eyes on Me

Bo Sinclair:

Think I’ll Keep You Pt.1

Think I’ll Keep You Pt.2

Think I’ll Keep You Pt. 3

Bo Sinclair Head-Cannons

Head Over Heels

Asking About Bo’s Trauma

Zombie Apocalypse Bo

Chop-Top:

Chop-Top Head-Cannons

Corey Cunningham

The Boogeyman Pt. 1

Ghostface:

Didn’t Think I’d Leave You All Alone on the Subway, Did You? Pt. 1

Didn’t Think I’d Leave You All Alone on the Subway, Did You? Pt. 2

Combat Boots

Tired?

Combat Boots Pt. 2

Jason Voorhees:

Sweet Stranger

Mitch (Haunt 2019):

The Ghost With the Most Pt. 1

The Ghost With the Most Pt.2

Pavi Largo:

Why the Long Face?

Thomas Hewitt

Bluebonnets

Bluebonnets Pt. 2

Homesick

Surprise!

Vincent Sinclair

Teaching Vincent Makeup

Miscellaneous

Slashers with Pets

Sinclair Seamstress

Slashers with Blind Reader

Slashers with an Injured S/O

Slashers Fix You Up

Three’s a Crowd

Sleepy S/O

[bosinclairsgff]

How slashers would play Minecraft

Would start out in a survival world but as soon as they need something they don't have would turn it to creative - Bo Sinclair, The Grabber, Brahms, Baby Firefly

They would spend all their time exploring and k1lling mobs - Otis Driftwood, Chop top, Drayton Sawyer

Try to make friends with all the animals - Lester Sinclair, Nubbins Sawyer, Bubba Sawyer

Would for sure spend their time building in creative - Vincent Sinclair, Corey Cunningham, Amanda Young

[creepswrites]

❝ CREEPS ‣ 22 ‣ IT/ITS ‣ REQUESTS OPEN ❞ ‣ ALL WRITING ‣ MASTERLIST ‣ VIEW RULES AND REGULATIONS BELOW TO REQUEST!

I. ❝ RESTRICTIONS ❞

‣ The following themes are PROHIBITED: racism, homophobia, transphobia, inc*st, ped*philia, illegal age gaps, extreme/harmful fetishes and kinks, r*pe, self-h*rm, suic*de, & extremely graphic abuse/depictions of abuse.

‣ Topics such as mental illness, violent scenes, and mention/depiction of abuse may pop up on occasion and will be properly tagged. While violent scenes may occur, I try to avoid topics I know to be upsetting to read as well as topics I myself find upsetting.

‣ I will NOT write smut with underage muses of mine, even if the reader is the same age.

‣ I will write for AMAB, AFAB, TRANS, and GN READERS! If you have specific pronouns for your reader request, make sure to state those! I always default to gender neutral reader unless otherwise specified :)

‣ Please do NOT repost my writing anywhere! Ask to translate, do not unless I have given explicit permission for you to do so.

II. ❝ THEMES ❞

‣ Common themes I write for include but are not limited to:

fluff / slice of life

angst / darker themes

nsfw / smut

violence

multi-chapter stories

‣ I do write reader x canon OR canon x canon, so long as it does not violate any of my restrictions! I can be picky about what canon x canon pairing I write for though, it has to speak to me.

III. ❝ REQUESTING ❞

‣ I reserve the right to deny any request for any reason.

‣ Do not spam/pressure me to write! I write for what inspires me in the moment. Requests will be completed when I have the time.

‣ Requests sent when they're closed will be discarded!

HEADCANONS | 1-3K ONESHOT | 4K+ ONESHOT

‣ Headcanons : Five character max, one character min. If the headcanon prompt is specific enough, it can be combined with a small drabble! These vary in length/detail. Unless characters for headcanons are specified, I'll likely write as many/as few as I feel inspired for!

‣ 1-3k Oneshot : These vary in length & detail depending on the material provided. If requesting, please specify, otherwise I default to headcanons. These can take me longer than headcanons so I take requests for them more sparingly.

‣ 4k+ Oneshot : Meant for more specific scenarios with lots of ideas & content involved! I rarely do these unless I'm particularly inspired by the prompt given. Usually, 4k+ is reserved for long-term story chapters.

IV. ❝ MUSES ❞

‣ Michael Myers : Halloween (1987, RZ, DBD, & 2018/Kills)

‣ Jason Voorhees : Friday the 13th

‣ Bubba Sawyer, Chop Top Sawyer, & Thomas Hewitt : The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

‣ Brahms Heelshire : The Boy (2016)

‣ Billy Lenz : Black Christmas (1974)

‣ Vincent Sinclar, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, & Nick Jonas : House of Wax (2005)

‣ Stu Macher & Billy Loomis : Scream

‣ Leslie Vernon : Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon

‣ Pyramid Head : Silent Hill

‣ Carrie White : Carrie

‣ Danny Johnson, Anna, & Amanda Young : Dead by Daylight ‣ You may ask me to try any DBD character though!

‣ Corey Cunningham : Halloween Ends (sparingly)

‣ Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson : Stranger Things (sparingly)

‣ Bill Denbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom : IT (1990, 2017, & 2019) (sparingly)

‣ ICON + HEADER ‣ COVER IMAGE ‣ LAYOUT INSPO

[rebelliousstories]

Yuletide

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Corey Cunningham x Reader

Fandom: Halloween Ends

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Paganism, Light Angst

Word Count: 1,445

Masterlist: Here

Summary: Christmas holds some rough memories for Corey. Luckily his lover has some ways to override Christmas memories of the past.

“Wait, so can you explain this again? I’m really trying to understand. I’m just having a hard time. I’m sorry.” Corey ducked his head as he asked for his girlfriend to repeat what she said for about the third time. He saw a hand rapidly approaching his face and flinched when he felt contact. But there was no stinging, just a gentle caress over his stubbly jaw.

“Of course. Don’t worry, I didn’t get it right away either.” She assured him, trying to reverse the years of damage any way she could. Grabbing her handwritten book, she opened up to a specific page and spoke slowly and carefully.

“So Yule is our version of Christmas. When the christians came upon the pagans living in Europe, they saw our festivals and celebrations and made their own versions to make it easier to convert the pagans. As opposed to a specific day, Yule is a time frame. It starts sundown of the winter solstice, and ends in the new year. We always have a big meal that first sundown and enjoy the festive time.” Her delicate writings and sketchy drawings that littered the pages in front of him, captivated his senses. Corey trailed his fingers over the ink that stained the pages in front of him.

“So christians took Yule, and turned it into Christmas?” He questioned,hoping to prompt more information out of his lover but he had no idea how or what to ask.

“Yeah, pretty much. Yule logs are a pretty obvious tie, but the reason there is always a big feast is because pagans would commemorate the solstice with a boar in honor of the wild hunt that takes place. Christmas trees were brought about because that’s what we use to offer thanks.” She explained further, watching as he kept his eyes on the pages before him. Corey opened and closed his mouth several times, like a fish gasping for air, but no words came from his throat.

“Do you… do you think, that-” came from the young man, but he never finished the thought. His hands messed with each other and he picked at his nails. However, his girlfriend reached her hand over and placed her own on top of his to steady them.

“Do I think what, Corey?” Her question was so soft and gentle, that he could not help but look up to see his lover gazing back at him.

“Do you think, maybe, I could. I don’t know. Maybe, I could come over and celebrate with you instead? I don’t have good memories with Christmas anyways.” Corey’s eyes dropped back to their hands that were joined together, and he fiddled with the rings that adorned his lover’s delicate fingers. It was quiet for a moment, as nothing but the sound of her breathing passing between them. Corey, on the other hand, was too afraid and anxious of her response to dare break his silence. But, he felt a kind kiss being pressed to his forehead.

“Of course you can! I would love to have some company.” He looked up at this, complete with a soft, boyish grin on his face. It grew into a smile that matched his lover’s as they sat there.

“Okay. Awesome. I’ll tell my mom, and then I’m all yours.” Corey looked so incredibly happy about coming over rather than spending the evening with his own family.

//

“No. Absolutely not. You are not leaving here Christmas Day.” And there it was, his mother’s veto that came with just about everything in life that Corey wanted. But he was an adult now, surely he could find the strength to tell his mother no. His hands shook, and he looked anywhere but here as he sought the strength he needed.

“Can’t even look me in the eyes and ask me. That just means you’re not serious, and you’re lying about having a girlfriend.” She continued to chastise and criticize her son, who still fought with his heart and his head. Yet soon, he thought about how excited his girlfriend was when he finally asked her to join her, how happy she looked to have him around.

“I am going to spend the day with her.” Corey stared his mother dead in the eyes, and fought with himself to not back down. She almost looked impressed, but she, too, did not back down.

“You really think that some girl is going to treat you the way I do? That some other girl will love you like I do? I am your mother. I am owed you being with me on the holidays.” Her tone turned deadly, and she shook her finger in his face. Corey wanted to run and apologize; his past experiences telling him that was the easiest path. But he did not want to let his lover down.

“I’m going, mom. I’m an adult and can make my own choices so I’ll be spending the day with her instead of here.” Before his mother could get another word out, Corey turned on his heels and went out the front door. There was still a couple days till Christmas, but he could not bear it in that house anymore. He got lost in his thoughts, and before he knew it, he arrived at the doorstep of his lover. Corey did not realize where he was walking and now he was here. Should he knock? Should he go? A sudden breeze blew by causing Corey to shiver and huddle closer, unknowingly kicking the door.

“Core?” A sweet and kind voice reached his ears. It was only then that he noticed that his girlfriend had opened the door to her apartment, and was reaching out to the man. He stepped inside once she touched his arm, and felt the warmth breathe into his bones.

“You alright, Core?” She questioned; her face full of concern. He smiled and shook off her worry as he placed his hands along her waist.

“Yeah. I’m alright. Just, needed out of the house. You know?” While his comment was vague, his girlfriend knew exactly what he meant.

“You had another fight with your mom?” Her question was rhetorical, but Corey nodded with a deep sigh, and pressed his head into her neck.

“Yeah.” His muffled voice tickled her lightly, causing a giggle to come out and a hand to start brushing through his curls.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay here. I still have you’re drawer and closet space. Want to help me decorate for Yule?” Pressing a gentle kiss to his head, his lover’s question was out of genuine interest and it made Corey happy. He nodded up and down into her neck, causing another fit of giggles over his stubble rubbing up against her. Pulling apart, Corey was eager to follow as he was dragged by the hand over to where some decorations laid in boxes.

“Okay. Let’s decorate.” The couple found themselves falling into an easy routine. Corey enjoyed being able to put up all the pine, holly, and runes around the rooms. At some point, he found himself hanging up a wreath above the television while she made a simmer pot on the stove. It provided an incredible smell to the whole home and made Corey enjoy this even more. His girlfriend came over at some point to take him away from his decorating skills with a dark blue and gold mug in each hand.

“Wassail?” She asked, holding the mugs up higher. Corey took one with glee and followed her onto the couch.

“Mhmm. What is this? This is amazing!” He complimented, watching his lover’s cheeks became set aflame as she tried to hid it in her mug.

“It’s basically spiced apple cider, brewed with intentions. It’s a traditional Yule drink, and it’s one of my favorite things about the season.” She explained, watching him drink even more of it.

“Well, I love it.” He concluded, and that led them into a moment of silence. Their eyes scanned the room and enjoyed what they saw. The decorations were hung up faster than usual having two people instead of one but it made them all that much better. Some of them were slightly taller than usual on account of Corey’s incredible height. The burst of color filled the bland apartment, and Corey just felt home. This was his home. Neither one spoke, just sipped their wassail, and enjoyed being with each other during the holidays. It felt oddly domestic for Corey, but he certainly was not turning it down. This was going to be his favorite Christmas, by far. As well as his first, of hopefully many, Yule celebrations.

[writing-good-vibes]

For Valentine's Day, number 1 under angsty prompts. The Replacement. A little bit of jealous ex!Corey maybe...

ahh thank you for your req !!

WARNINGS for (past) corey x gn!reader, jealousy, mildly stalkerish behaviour, dark post accident!corey, mentions of joan being The Worst and mild implications of violence.

💔 very cute divider by @/firefly-graphics 💔

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

Corey didn't like being jealous. Being jealous made his stomach ache, a horrible sickly feeling deep down in his gut that wouldn't go away, made worse by his tossing and turning at night while he tried to sleep. Being jealous made his fingers hurt, and he'd clench them into fists, hard enough for his blunt nails to leave red crescents in his palms, to try and ease the pressure in his sore knuckles. Being jealous made his eyes water and his chest tight and it made him want to scream, sat in his bed alone at night, watching the radio tower blink tauntingly through his window.

But Corey couldn't help it, Corey was jealous.

Maybe it was his own fault -- it was definitely his own fault -- that you didn't want him anymore, that you got out the first chance you had, that you chose to dodge the bullet that is Corey 'Kid Killer' Cunningham.

And he can't really blame you because he knows that you were getting bored with his reluctance to go anywhere, and with all his nervous habits he still hadn't been able to shake.

He knows it's because the looks got too much for you. Because the mutterings behind your back were starting to take their tole. Because the soda thrown at him from a car window as you walked down the street was only a taste of what was to come.

He really only had himself to blame, and yet he couldn't make himself let go of you so easily. Especially not now he'd seen his replacement.

It's difficult not to compare himself. Corey's been monitoring his placement in every league possible since middle school; popularity, academics, looks. He'd skated along in the middle of the pack popularity-wise, which suited him just fine, and he was never quite top of the class but he was close enough to keep his GPA up, and well... he wasn't winning any prizes compared to some of the guys at school, but he'd lived with it.

But next to his Replacement? Oh, Corey never stood a chance.

And Corey doesn't want to do this. Of course he doesn't. He sees you from across the street, holding his hand. He sees walk you around the dollar store while he pushes the cart. He sees you take him back to your place. And he follows you back to his sometimes too.

Momma's upset with him when he's late for dinner.

It's funny how much he still misses you, even when he sees you all the time. You smile and your smile is like sunshine. You look and your eyes are sharp and clever and deep enough to drown in. Your voice, god he could listen to you forever and ever and never get bored.

He closes his eyes and thinks about it, reconfigures all these sightings onto himself. You smile at him, you look at him, you talk to him, not his replacement

He's cold, and his stomach aches, and his fingers hurt, and his chest is tight when you open your door. He doesn't remember looking through the kitchen draw, or leaving home, or when his cheeks got so wet.

"Corey? Is everything okay?"

Momma always told him no one else would ever love him, and that's Corey down to the bone: always wanting something he can't have.

on the topic of jealousy, you should also read [warnings apply]:

clean again by blake (@/slutforstabbings). after corey survives the events of ends he travels south and, against his better judgement, falls in love with the reader. corey's jealous streak is strong in this story, but it comes up most directly in chapter 7.

rock bottom by toxic (@/toxicanonymity). corey can't decide if he wants to do the reader or michael, so he does both. and even though he gets the best of both worlds, he's still somehow jealous of both of his partners.