#corey tics:)

[that-was-anticlimactic]

if the music stops, continue with a dance

Kineshi stares at the pot, at the steam, and the boiling water, then, as if in a trance, he reaches out and—

“Hairo-kun!” shrieks Kaidou, slapping his hand with an oven mitt. “What the hell? The pot is hot, you can’t touch it!”

Kineshi retracts his hand and waves him off. “Don’t worry, Kaidou-kun,” he says, “I always win the ‘don’t burn yourself’ challenge I play when I cook!”

Beside him, Saiki just stares, dead-panned, borderline incredulous. Kaidou’s expression is similar, only larger.

[or, hairo, tourette's, and his wonderful friends]

🔥written for day one of tourette's awareness month!🔥

🔥3,900 words | hairo kineshi-centric🔥

click here to read the other fics i've written for ts awareness month the past three years!

[that-was-anticlimactic]

[ID: the first image is the hand holding meme with three hands labeled as "people w/ ocd", "autistic people", and "people w/ adhd". In the center of the hands it says, “no i don’t know what I’m doing and no i will not stop doing it”. the second image is the same as the first except a hand is added to the image, touching the other hands with the pointer finger. that hand is labeled. "People w/ Tourette's". /End ID.]

if you have all three you win

[littencloud9]

OKAY OPTIONS TIME!!!

kunichuu + 18

tanitachihigugin + 33

montcott + 29

(i picked random numbers so sorry if they suck lol)

hehe HI COREY!! TY FOR THE OPTIONS I AM EATING THEM

18. a kiss while laughing

"And," Kunikida continues, leaning over Chuuya's body and attacking their face with another kiss, "that's for being an amazing partner all around. And that's—" another kiss, this time on the nose, "—for looking after Kenji today, and—" "Please!" Chuuya gasps in between their laughter, huffing over and over in a lame attempt to catch their breath. "I get it! Mercy!" Kunikida grins, burying his head in Chuuya's shoulders. He noses along their neck and they squirm away, spilling into another fit of giggles. Hands push weakly at his chest, and Kunikida knows Chuuya can push him off with ease if that's what they really wanted. So he continues his tirade, peppering Chuuya with kisses everywhere until their voice begins to crack. When Kunikida pulls back, his partner stares up at him with a wide, toothy smile. There are tears in the corner of their eye from laughing so hard. It's one of the most beautiful noises in the world. Kunikida wants to hear it forever. "I love you," he blurts out, unable to help the affection spilling out of his chest. Maybe years ago, Chuuya would've shielded themself from such a pure, unfiltered expression of love. But now, they simply laugh again, cupping Kunikida's cheeks and pulling him in for another kiss. I love you too, goes unsaid, but it's heard.

33. a kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking. featuring higuchi with tourettes. for you <3

Higuchi nearly drops the pan she's holding when her shoulders shrug, making her wince. Her tics have been acting up the past two days, but she had an important mission last night and had no time to rest. It was a bad decision, in hindsight. She sets the pan back down on the stove, gritting her teeth when her shoulders jerk again and a bolt of pain shoots through her body. Jun'ichirou's the only other person in the kitchen with her. He glances at her, tilting his head. Higuchi assumes he's going to point it out (it'll make it worse, but he probably doesn't know that, and God she doesn't want to deal with the explanation right now but—) "I'll handle the veggies," Jun'ichirou says, walking over. He nudges Higuchi aside, gesturing his head to the living room where Gin and Tachihara are playing games at. "Go get Michi to set up the table, please?" Higuchi's voice feels stuck in her throat as she nods, hurrying off. She gives the message, and Tachihara tilts his head back with a groan. Still, he obliges, jumping up and giving Gin a quick kiss on the cheek, exactly where their beauty mark lies. Higuchi sits down next to Gin, glancing at their phone. It looks like some sort of shooting game. Before she can ask, Gin turns the phone off, putting a hand up to her shoulder and massaging it gently. Higuchi's eyes well up with tears. Gin doesn't point it out—they never do unless absolutely necessary. They reach for Higuchi's hand, kissing along her wrist, where a light scar remains from an old mission. There's a sudden yelp from the kitchen and roaring laughter from Tachihara. Higuchi and Gin share a fond smile, leaning into each other as they wait for their partners to finish preparing dinner.

29. a kiss to the back of the hand

"Don't fret so much," Lucy sighs, plucking the pen away from Louisa's hand. Louisa jumps, so immersed that she didn't even notice Lucy walking in. She wasn't using her ability, but she'd still be able to hear if the door opens, so her mind must've been really lost. Lucy wordlessly pulls her up and Louisa's vision goes blurry for a moment. As she regains it, Lucy combs fingers through her hair, smoothing it down. "...Where are the others?" Louisa asks, searching for a clock. Time has always been a hard concept to grasp, especially since she joined the Guild. "We're celebrating Mark's birthday soon, right? Is it dinner yet?" Lucy shrugs. "He can wait. You're too tense. We need to get you loose and relaxed for the party." "Party?" Louisa mumbles, shaking her head. "I don't want to dance later." "Mm, I know. How about now, though? With just me?" She considers it. That would be nice. When she nods, Lucy gets down on one knee, holding onto her hand. She brushes her lips against the back of her hand, peering up at her through long eyelashes, and Louisa's heart stutters. When Lucy smiles, it's like the world stops moving. "May I have this dance?" She tightens her grip as she replies, "Yes."

[zukkaoru]

💞with sweet understanding💞

Valentine’s Day is ruined, and it’s all Higuchi’s fault. Okay—it’s not her fault, exactly. She didn’t ask to wake up in so much pain she could hardly stand, nor did she ask for her tics to increase in correlation with her stress. And said stress has only been mounting for the past week—partially from work-related issues, and partially because Higuchi has been spending every spare moment attempting to plan out the perfect Valentine’s Day for her girlfriend, and now… She hisses in pain as her shoulders jerk, causing the heating pad she draped over them to slide to the ground.

higuchi's plan to give gin the perfect valentine's day falls through when she has a bad pain flare up; gin helps her have a nice evening regardless

💞 2.9k words || higugin 💞 happy valentine's day corey @that-was-anticlimactic ily <3

[rowanoakee]

Little tidbits of my tf ocs cause I have some I haven't even drawn lmao

Lynx-LOCK

She CAN NOT and WILL NOT stand still. Always fidgeting with something or someone. When alone with bots she's close with, she will fidget with their servos

Biter /neg /j has really sharp teeth and likes to show em off either with a big ass goofy grin or biting

She was not made with a weapon!! She was made specifically to be a carrier

Biolights will flash differently depending on mood

Voice claim- Laufey

Mania

Dude confuses everyone. Especially with their nickname, grim reaper, they're very cuddly and friendly

Will do the stick bug dance /srs

Their hood helps with bright lights

Voice claim- Corey Taylor

Andromeda

pink and green femme seeker

short /neg

They/she/he

Gets cold pretty easily, has a fuzzy blanket in their subspace

Actually quiet and very obedient. Does not talk much unless in private

Voice claim- Bowie Bugs from Baby Bugs

Delta Stream

Teal seeker femme, Andromeda's twin spark

Short

She/they

Twitchy! They twitch and chirp at random intervals, like nervous tics

Loud but doesn't mean to be, she has spoiled many a surprise because of how loud she is

Way too much energy

Almost always overheating

Voice claim- Molly Guldemond

Artemis and Apollo

Lynx-LOCK's sparklings. Due to being mixed with cybertronian, their beast modes were wild cards. Artemis is a blue and red Meganeura, and Apollo is a sun cheek conure. Both born with weapons, unironically bows.

Artemis

A great shot!

Will buzz her wings randomly, loving the feeling of static

Big ass red goggles that look impossible to see through

She/her

Voice claim- Rachie

Apollo

Preens a lot, feathers everywhere

Pacifist! Will rather perform than fight

Very proficient with instruments, specifically loves string instruments (cello ❤️)

He/him

Voice claim- Fish in a Birdcage

[hearts4pearlescentmoon]

Allow me to explain

I’ve been thinking

[darkmaga-returns]

00:00:00 - Discussion on "Woke" Snow White Remake

Hosts discuss controversies around the new Snow White movie, particularly the casting choices and Peter Dinklage’s opposition to hiring little people actors.

Debate over how much money Disney has lost on the project, with speculation about its failure.

00:10:00 - New UFO Documentary “The Age of Disclosure”

A new film claims to expose U.S. government coverups on alien presence, featuring interviews with high-ranking officials.

Some skepticism on figures like James Clapper being credible voices in the UFO community.

Discussion about how mainstream UFO topics have become, making it less appealing.

00:20:00 - Discussion on UFO Grifters & “Soul Foundation”

Hosts discuss the rise of UFO grifters who charge outrageous membership fees (up to $25K/year) to be part of "exclusive" groups.

Comparison to past UFO scam artists like Corey Goode and David Wilcock.

00:30:00 - Loch Ness Monster Hunt & New Sightings

A new Loch Ness Monster expedition is planned, with underwater drones and high-resolution cameras.

Discussion on recent "sightings," including a blurry, zoomed-in photo—hosts express skepticism.

00:40:00 - "Tic Tac UFO" Spotted on Mars?

NASA’s Curiosity Rover captured an anomaly resembling the famous Tic Tac UFO.

Speculation over whether it’s a rock formation or something more.

Mick West's skeptical take on the image is discussed.

00:50:00 - Embalmer Mutilates a Corpse in Bizarre Crime

A mortuary worker in Texas stabs a dead man's groin and puts the severed piece in his mouth.

Theories on why she did it—potential revenge for discovering he was a sex offender.

Dark humor around how this could be charged as "improper disposal of a body."

01:00:00 - Daylight Savings Time Conspiracy

Discussion on how Daylight Savings Time negatively affects human health, increasing heart attacks.

Debate over why governments still enforce it despite nearly universal opposition.

01:10:00 - Tesla Protesters & Fake Activism

Examination of anti-Elon Musk protests, suggesting they might be organized by powerful groups with financial motives.

Debate on whether liberal activists are being manipulated.

01:20:00 - The Left’s Hypocrisy on Social Issues

A clip is played mocking inconsistencies in leftist ideology—e.g., “We can’t define a woman, but also men can be women.”

Further discussion on political grifting and media narratives.

01:30:00 - Psychedelic Experiences & DMT Discussion

Caller shares experiences with mushrooms and DMT, describing how it changed their perspective.

Hosts discuss their own psychedelic journeys and the importance of set and setting.

01:40:00 - Passenger on American Airlines Attacks Crew, Blames ‘Satanic Spirit’

A man on an American Airlines flight caused chaos, claiming a Satanic spirit had entered the cabin.

He swallowed rosary beads to "ward off the spirit" and later attacked a flight attendant.

The pilot had to turn the plane around, and the passenger was arrested.

01:50:00 - Study Claims Sleep Deprivation Causes Conspiracy Thinking

A new study suggests that lack of sleep makes people more likely to believe in conspiracy theories.

Hosts break down the study, arguing it's just another way to discredit alternative narratives.

Debate over how mainstream media uses psychology to push their agenda.

02:00:00 - Show Wrap-Up & Merchandise Talk

Final thoughts on the topics discussed.

Mention of new OBDM merchandise coming soon, possibly featuring gas station snakes.

[apparentlysmart]

A tiny piece of my new WIP

“I promise I will keep my temper in check.” I finally said. “I’ve been doing much better.”

“You and I both know that I don’t peddle in promises.”

Now I let my head sink back down to look at him. He is hunched over in his chair, elbows on his knees and hands tucked under his chin. His expression is somehow both neutral and disappointed. “I’ve been doing better.”

“You do better every summer.”

This is true.

“Even Mom thinks I’m improving.”

His left eyebrow twitched, which was a facial tic I had learned to recognize meant that I had just said the exact wrong thing.

“How is everything with your mom, since you brought her up?”

“Hmph.” I decided it would be best to go back to looking at the ceiling. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Just…just tell me how she thinks you’re improving.” His voice wavered. Mine was currently attempting to collapse in on itself like a black hole.

“She…” I stop and count to five in my head. “…we haven’t fought about anything in weeks. She noticed. I was trying not to.”

“Why were you trying not to?”

“Because it shouldn’t matter that I’m calm. It shouldn’t be celebrated that she doesn’t think I’m some kind of animal.”

“I don’t think she thinks—”

“—She has mentioned numerous times that she is going to purchase me a muzzle for a birthday or Christmas gift.” I glance down at him. His face is somewhere between horrified and bemused. “I think she treats it like some little joke between us now, but we all know it wasn’t always like that.”

“If you think she thinks it’s a joke, then tell her it’s not funny and that you do not want to hear it.”

I almost laughed. “So you want me to start a fight?”

“If her words hurt, you have to let her know that. I’ve had the same conversation with you many, many times.”

“I’m improving.” I said. “I keep it all in here.” I looped my hand around my head.

“That’s not really good, either, but it is better than screaming.”

“See? Improvement.” This time I laughed. It was a very light, stilted chuckle. It sent a tickle through my throat and I ended up hanging off the chaise coughing into my fist while Ken hovered between a seated position and standing, waiting to see if he needed to give me medical attention.

“Corey? Corey, are you okay?”

“I’m improving.” I repeated, hacking the last bit of the cough out of my body. “Though I could use some water.”

[hersweetrevenge]

dude you need to make a series about those corey gifs dissecting each moment bc your takes are amazing

ahh thank you so much !! 💗

rohan has such a phenomenally expressive face !! i get the sense he really feels what he's acting and you can see it in every twitch and flinch and tic he has. i could honestly watch gifs of him for hours just to analyse all of his expressions, and try and catch ever little micro expression within them. it's all the subtle details that make for an amazingly visceral performance.

i'm absolutely fascinated with corey's body language, everything he does is says so much !! he's in a very interesting position of being both hyperaware of his own presence and how he thinks people percieve him, while also being a visually emotional person, who can never quite hide his emotions as much as he'd like to. corey's character arc also means we see a great mix of behaviours, from natural tics that he can't help doing, or habitual actions, to moments where you can see that he's trying to keep himself in check, or even that he's putting on an act.

i've talked about a few moments before, [here] and [here] !! (and a little bit here but i don't talk as much about his body language),, because i don't make my own gifs i sometimes feel bad about hijacking someone else's post if i have a lot of thoughts to add, but i really do love analysing them and i'd love to talk about more moments if people are interested !!

[j4xotto]

At the sound of Annie's name, Jax whipped his head around, as though he expected to see his best friend - all five feet, two inches of her - standing in the middle of the wreckage with a mischevious look on her face. Not that he expected Annie to have trashed his kitchen, but it was common knowledge that wherever Annie went, trouble followed. He wasn't even always sure she meant for it to happen, she was just some kind of lovely, enigmatic chaos magnet.

"Perry and Lang are here?" he wrinkled his nose, wondering if he could muster up enough authority or carry himself with enough importance to turf them out. When Jax heard the names Perry and Lang, he always hoped to catch sight of June and Corey, and was often sorely disappointed when their troublesome siblings appeared instead. Jax was terribly fond of June, having spent hours on the track with her and by her side in press interviews, and often wondered how her parents had managed to get her so right and Harrison so wrong. He liked Corey enough too, always polite (although sometimes tempted into trouble by June) and spoken well of by Mia. Justin he liked much less.

Holding the stranger's hair back - Emma's hair - Jax stared forlornly at the mountain of broken china. Dante, in the meantime, flitted back and forth in his kitchen like he owned the place. And oddly, he did appear quite at home there. The cupboard doors opened to him, dustpans and brushes and cleaning utensils filing out in exactly the order he needed them, like he was Snow White commanding the use of his appliances with a song or a whistle. From the little Jax had learned about the other man, he figured he'd find his way in anyone's kitchen.

"Expensive? Uh-" he shrugged, aware how he must be coming across. Like some rich idiot unaware of the contents of his cupboards, more money than sense and with the tendency to make extravagant purchases he later couldn't account for. It wasn't entirely untrue. He had a vague feeling it might have been a housewarming present, but he could just have easily have handed his AMEX to his personal assistant and allowed her to fill his home with crap he never used.

"I'm not that attached." he admitted.

It occured to him that for the past minute or so, Dante hadn't really stopped talking. He wondered if it was some kind of nervous tic around the driver, or just an innate Dante-ism. He guessed he didn't really know Dante well enough to make an educated guess. How could it be, that he'd spent most days with this man, now found him in the middle of his home, and yet most of the things he knew about him had come directly from Annie? Jax supposed that was his fault too. He wasn't exactly forthcoming in their interactions.

Lifting his head at the sound of Dante's cry, his eyes widened as he took in the scene before him, the other man's eyebrows furrowed in pain.

"Dante!" he huffed, the words coming out more like a telling-off than a concerned exclamation. The intrinsic instinct to be cross at the other man, even though he was literally bleeding out.

Abandoning his post at the sink (the girl seemed to have stopped heaving now, anyway), Jax tiptoed over the jagged shards of broken kitchenware to Dante's side, trying his best to school his features into something like worry, rather than annoyance.

"What did you do?" he asked, hands fluttering in mid-air anxiously. He resisted the urge to simply seize Dante's bleeding finger, do something as stupid as try to stem the blood with his hands alone. He needed something - a first aid kit - but where the hell did he keep it?

"Come with me." he said, still fighting to keep the bite out of his tone. Gently, his hand circled around Dante's wrist, dragging him by his good hand down the hall and to the bathroom.

Pushing the door open, Jax held it open with his shoulder to let Dante follow. Jax didn't fail to note he was currently without use of either of his hands, so firmly were Jax's fingers still clamped around his wrist. Sucking in a breath as Dante moved past him - fruitless, Dante's chest brushed his regardless - he let the door swing closed behind them.

"Sit here and don't bleed on anything." he instructed, depositing Dante on the rim of the tub, relinquishing his hold on the man to rummage around under the bathroom counter.

Predictably, Jax looked less than enthused to find Dante in the middle of his kitchen, the plates a secondary concern as he questioned Dante’s presence first. Dante himself couldn’t quite bite back the disappointment he felt to have his worries confirmed; Jax was far more disturbed by the sight of his PT in his apartment than he was about the plates that had now been turned into jagged mosaics that were strewn across the floor.

“Annie,” Dante replied swiftly. He had no doubts that half the people here had been invited by Annie, and then they had decided to bring along a plus one (or two, or three), accounting for the masses of people in Jax's apartment. He only hoped it wouldn’t be quite so offensive to Jax to realise that it had been Annie who’d thought to include him. The man was keen on making it clear that he was no fan of the Brit, but Dante couldn’t quite remember ever seeing his client grow mad at Annabelle Baxter.

“As for your plates, you can thank Perry and Lang for that. Justin, not Corey,” he amended, having long since been able to separate the Lang brothers, not just in looks but the way they had a tendency to act. They were polar opposites. Before he’d come into the kitchen, he’d seen Corey behaving himself in the corner with the Bridger boy and could only wish Justin possessed half the decency the other young driver had.

He switched places with Jax, shuffling around behind the other man so he could step forward and take care of the girl who still looked a frightful shade of grey.

“She was a little too preoccupied to give me her name,” he grimaced, swapping concerned looks with Jax as the poor love gave another tired heave.

“Emma,” he heard her murmur pathetically as she pressed her forehead against the cool tiles next to the sink.

You’ve got this? he mouthed to Jackson before concentrating on the mess in front of him.

“Dustpan and broom?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before he opened a random cupboard to search for what he needed. He supposed his choice couldn’t exactly be described as ‘random’, given that he’d taken into account the layout of the kitchen and decided that if he were to keep his own cleaning products anywhere, it would be behind this door. And lo and behold! There was the dustpan he needed to safely sweep away the shards of the broken plates.

“How expensive were these?” he had to ask. As much time as Dante liked to spend in the kitchen back home, his crockery cupboard was lacking. If anything it was more a plastic cupboard, with brightly printed bowls and funky-patterned plates threatening to spill out of it given that he had the tendency to just shove them in at any angle instead of stacking them properly after washing up. There was a Bugs Bunny bowl he’d had since the nineties that was still his designated ‘cereal bowl’. He’d have been wholly devastated if Harrison and Justin had found a way to trash that for their sick idea of fun.

There was a tug of sympathy in his chest, directed at Jax. It couldn’t be pleasant, having his home invaded by a bunch of strangers. Especially since he knew the man valued his privacy. Dante’s only saving grace was that somehow the invitation had managed to avoid being extended to Asher Boyd, although he wouldn’t doubt that Annie herself had specifically set up a security guard outside to allow anyone in bar Jackson’s old performance trainer.

“I think you have word of mouth to blame for all of this,” Dante mused. “As far as I knew this was a quiet get-together, although I should have known better than to think I’d have been counted as part of your inner circ—oh!”

With a jolt, he flinched, a sharp prick of pain shooting up his finger. Stupidly, he’d allowed his hand to meet the sharp edge of one of the broken bits of porcelain and was now forced to watch in dismay as a thin trickle of blood made its way down his forefinger.

“Well, that’s a bit bollocks, isn’t it?” he declared, amiably enough.

[polyphonial-old]

alrighty! i finished s1!

i really liked it! cannot tell you how hard i CACKLED when reigen just walked in NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE SNEAKY and everyone was like omg he's nice he's wearing a suit he Has to be the boss and that was just SO FUNNY I WAS WHEEZING

and also the way that reigen was SO against mob fighting bECAUSE HE'S A KID I JUST🥺 and let me tell you. i LOST IT when reigen kept telling him that it's okay to run away and that mob's version of running away was giving his power to reigen for a bit

this man is so stupid. but SO smart??? he could talk his way out of anything wow and the way he just punched them which like. no one was expecting??? amazing <3

also idk there was one part where either teru and ritsu called the other's name or something like that and i was a bit👀 but idk yet iuygfcghuiouhgv

anyways! still not sure who my favorite character is yet haha but i know that the reason grace thought i would like ritsu for awhile was because he has an inferiority complex (... sokka, reki, cole ninjago, etc... i have a type lol)

also thought the whole thing with onigawara was so funny solely because he's voiced by ray chase (sukuna but ALSO howzer sds) and the body improvement club guy is voiced by patrick seitz (grimaore, sds) which is so funny because their characters in sds are besties iuyfcghiougyfghui

aNYWAYS i also saw your response to my prior ask about mob being autistic and SO TRUE but that also made me think that i need to give a character ts!!! any ideas? i'm still not entirely sure yet iuhgfcgvhjiokijuhgv

anyways, those are the s1 thoughts!!! hope to start s2 tomorrow, maybe?

hi! sorry this took a while but YEAHH JKHFHFKJ that's one of my fav moments of his ever he's soo. !!! and ogghg when he told mob it's ok to run away... it's like. god. HE'S A KID !!! AND IT'S OBVIOUS BUT YOU'RE SO USED TO THE GENRE U DON'T EXPECT IT AND. i am so unwell over mob & reigen. that's his dad your honour !!

ohh yes teru and ritsu are such a fun pair ! i like terumob a lot but teru and ritsu also have potential for a very interesting dynamic.

having a type in favs is soo real i feel u !! i 💗 himbos and babygirls and morally ambiguous fucked up guys (all gn)

also omg love that !! i don't know a lot abt vas but i'm so glad you're having fun w them :)

yess i'm glad u agree ! for ts (or. or fnd. eyes emoji..) my top contender is teru but that's probably bc i like to project on him dsjhdsjhfdk other than him i can definitely see reigen or ritsu w tics!

[shandzii]

Hi Shandzii, just wanted to say CONGRATULATIONS on the absolutely FAN-TAS-TIC work you did for the 'Ask Sun & Moon - Part 1' YouTube video that just got put up! The passion you & the whole team put into that video is so inspiring, and I just had to thank you directly for all your hard work. I hope more people get to see the amazing work you do from this. Thanks!

I honestly still can't stop smiling :)

OH MY GOSH THANK YOU SO MUCH THAT MEANS A LOT!!! ;;V;;

I'm just so head full of the Daycare bois but (surprisingly) I'm still a bit nervous when it comes to comics or anything like that asdfghjk so I'm grateful for Shavs for being a bestie and giving me this :'>>

Also Corey and Swib just did mWAH ✨ with their voices!!! They added so much life to them and I'm just awOOGA!!! Same with the sound design and editing :D!!!

[hersweetrevenge]

ahhh the way you are developing this relationship is so smooth !! i love how it kind of feels like the thrill of the chase (literal and metaphorical) is all part of the fun, but not in an annoying "playing hard to get" sort of way. i think it works really well for where both reader and corey are in their lives: surprised by their own infatuation and reluctant to get hurt again, but knowing there is something special about the other person that means they're never going to be the same again 💗

You start doing repairs for him too, darning his socks, fixing the crude job he did attaching the patches embroidered with his name to his coveralls

this is so sweet and oddly intimate ?? it's such a small thing, but like the first time they have dinner, it's something that other people might save for a lot later in the relationship. this sort of domestic bliss is hard to come by, but it feels so right for both of them !! it's the small parts of this relationship that are so fascinating.

He accidentally-on-purpose lets slip that he can do a wheelie on his motorcycle.

he's so cute 😊🤭 i can hear exactly how he would accidently-on-purpose show off about doing a wheelie -- "how long did it take you to learn how to ride?" "it's easier than you think. you know, i can actually do a wheelie" -- he has that little habit of trying to talk about things he's interested in or good at, without making it sound like he wants to talk about himself. or maybe he does it to try and prove to himself (and others) that he's even a fraction as cool and interesting as any of the cool people he idolises. i love that you included this detail though, it's so perfect.

He’s a good boy, you know he would never… But you get wet imagining that he did. 

words fail me. i want this quote made into one of those neon wall signs so i can hang it in my living room.

i'm so obsessed with the tone you use here. there's something so teasing and salacious about it. about the implications. calling corey a good boy will always be the hottest thing in the world to me, but the way it's suggested that of course he would never do anything like that, even if he wanted to (and he does want to). the sort of forbidden aspect that grows in place of making a move.

Sweet, awkward Corey, turning bright red when he feels how wet you are for him. Aggressive, confident Corey, laughing and making you taste yourself on his fingers.

i love this, not only because it is very hot, but you totally get the way corey waxes and wanes in his personality. he is sweet and awkward, but he's also intelligent and sharp, and also aggressive and emotionally erratic. i feel like the reader is barely scratching the surface, but still understanding that it's not straight forward in predicting corey's moods. and the idea of reader not knowing "which" corey they want but being interesting in all of them.

i'm really excited to see how this aspect develops and how reader handles the shifts and revelations that may or may not ever come to light ?? 👀

You can tell yourself you’re not falling for him, that even though you've been sickeningly infatuated with him since the moment you saw him, what's happening between you is just a thing, as long as he’s never been inside you.  

your wording is everything, once again. something something, devour, consume, never being close enough. letting him in because you want to devour him too. how dangerous it feels to give in to infatuation in a tangible way. and you're so right, it's one thing to lick a fork after he's used it, it's another to let him inside you.

Grimy images of raw meat and butchered animals flash on the screen between shots of naked women.  

from the very first word, before i even read the index, i fucking knew this was closer by nin !! ohh his reaction is so, so, so perfect 😈 i wanted him sweating and nervous and unreasonably aroused over it and you delivered.

i'm so stupidly intrigued by the idea of corey processing the more unconventional aspects of attraction and arousal that he may or may not of developed. i think him finally being able to explore media and art and pop culture sort of give him an outlet of understanding about his own wants and interests, sexually and non sexually, actually.

idk where i was going with that, but i'm glad he got to experience closer, and being there to watch him is an experience in of itself lol

He always thought that Haddonfield was uniquely obsessed with death because of Michael, but since he left he’s realized people are like that everywhere.

i guess in addition to the last point, this is also such an interesting point you make !! haddonfield is portrayed as being pretty insular, and in a lot of ways it is, but the fascination people have with death and murder and boogeymen doesn't stop once you get past the city limits. it must be disheartening for corey, thinking he got away only to find the obsession is present on the outside too. and not to get too deep, of course, but the pop cultural interest in true crime can seem unsettlingly blasé in response. i think this is the other side of the coin.

“One word,” you say, placing your foot extremely deliberately on his boner and pressing down. “Pig.” ... In spite of himself, Corey rocks his hips

obsessed with this imagery and the juxtaposition(?) of how soft and tentative the previous interactions have been. like testing the waters to see how far you can push until you both have to give in. and this being the first taste of true sexuality, obsessed.

Corey understands the rules of the game now.

ahh i know we've talked about his unsteady relationship with boundaries, and i feel like this plays into that so well. i see it as him liking the challenge of working things out for himself, especially when he can see you want him to work it out, but then having the "rules" in place is good for him, it gives him a line to walk and he's excellent at walking that line when he needs to.

He skids to a stop and smiles in spite of himself.

i love the theme of cat-and-mouse across the chapters !! the way it, on the surface, seems like the classic power and control dynamic, but deep down it's about want and wanting, right? i think corey does like the harmless power trip, but in reverse, i feel that he likes the fact that it's a game based on want. you want him to chase you, and back at the library, he knows you wanted to chase him.

Despite everything, Corey still harbors a fondness for Michael, his crooked mentor, a man so beautifully, perfectly free from what others thought about him. But he’d kill Michael with his bare hands

man, i wont go into all of my corey and michael thoughts on this post, but just know that i am obsessed. i love your word choice: fondness, crooked, beautifully, bare hands. there's something so raw and genuine about what corey feels for michael, whatever it is. you could argue he's a little bit sweet on him as easily as you could argue that he resents him.

He feels stupid, gullible, impotent.

ahhh obsessed with a corey who feels betrayed and jealous. he's gone his whole life never getting what he wants and when he's so close to it -- when he let himself believe it was happening, against all odds -- he feels like he let his guard down for nothing. he should have known, shouldn't he.

i love your word choice here too. there's so much he's never experienced, but there's just as much that he has experienced. he never got the young love relationships, he got coercive control -- he knows what it feels like to kill someone, but he doesn't (wouldn't) know the expectations he should have of a relationship.

"impotent" too. totally spot-on with the double meaning. we know corey has all his unrealised gender stuff going on, and this totally feeds into his fears of being less than a man. his gone a lot of his life not being treated like an adult, being held back from being a "man" but also being held back from a certain type of autonomous control. he is forever a child, idolising masculine leading men but feeling like he could loose his grasp on his own self-actualised masculinity even though it is a core part of his being.

then his first instinct being to go and beat the shit out of someone? because it's power, who's the bigger man? for all corey's insecurity, he knows it's him. knows what he's capable of and knows he can't let go like that again, because as much as he idolises people like michael, he's seen the full extent of what they become.

He hovers, hesitating, stuck between walking away and turning back to face you. Wanting to ask but not wanting to know.

i've picked this line, but the whole scene is brilliant !! the description of corey's movements is so visceral, it really builds up the tension, i can feel him working himself up into one of his stressed out meltdowns. he has so much nervous energy simmering inside him and you can see him trying to let it out in a controlled way but nothing seems like enough anymore.

“Am I your boyfriend?” He asks, facing away from you.

i want corey saying "am i your boyfriend?" playing on a loop in my head forever, actually. it's so innocent and earnest. it's almost childish, in a "we're girlfriend-boyfriend" kind of way, and of course corey has barely got to be anyone's boyfriend. but i'd say more like youthful, when things are new and fresh and that word means so much.

angry and wounded

every time he just can't hide his emotions, i melt a little bit more (i will eventually become a puddle of goop). i guess we have rohan to thank for his monumentally expressive face, but we love to see it, and it is absolutely perfect for corey. i can see him, so anguished and pained that it pulls at his features without him meaning it to show.

You shouldn’t get any pleasure from someone else being upset, especially not the precious, volatile man you find yourself falling for.

"the precious, volatile man" -- this is everything to me. you're word choice is phenomenal, and is so him. you understand corey.

i mentioned before because this weaves so well throughout this whole story, that corey is unpredictable from an outside perspective. it's difficult to tell when he's going to be an a confident mood or a quiet one. and it feels like hmm should we be into how changeable he is? probably not. is it exciting though, is he exciting? absolutely.

he's never known how to just be; he's constantly running from something, no wonder his personality is ever shifting. he wants so badly to be good all the time, because that's how he survives, but when he can't be he falls into dire despair until he can grasp some reassurance again.

like he wants to taste your blood through your skin

the taste of blood 💗 corey got a taste for blood and it never quite goes away, does it? i love this imagery, the desperation of being close and having that connection. something something, it isn't enough to taste you, he needs to get beneath your skin, needs to get past that last barrier because he wants you so much.

ahhh there is literally so much i want to say about the smut !! i don't even know where to start with lines to choose because i was so drawn in by all of it. it's the aura you've created, how it sweet and simple and overwhelming because it's finally happening and it feels so natural. you can still feel the awkwardness of a first time together, but it melts into a sort or urgency. the waiting seems unbelievable to them now that they are actually together and so close.

the way he says he hasn't done it many times. we can fix that. the way he says "not yet". the way he doesn't take his boxers off till right before. the way he has the prettiest dick (of course). the way his expression is almost pained because it feels a lot. the way he pulls out because he doesn't have time to do anything else and then still apologises.

i think it was so perfect the way corey isn't necessarily confident in himself, but more like in his ability to do a good job and to please. he's a trier, always. i even getting the feeling that he doesn't feel as much pressure as i would imagine he would. not to be cheesy, but something something, being with the right person takes the pressure off of him because it's easier to just... know what to do?

i think it feels very interesting that it happens on the couch. with how intense and intimate it feels, whereas the couch is more of a casual setting, i guess? then moving to the bed (where they've already literally slept together before). hmm idk where i'm going with that but i wanted it on the record that i felt something lol

edit: i can't believe i forgot to mention the smoking scene 😭 !! obsessed with it. once again, the weird intimacy of it, the act of breathing it in and sharing a vice, however small. also i can literally hear corey going "i'm sorry, do you mind if i smoke? i'll go outside" and the way he's so secretly pleased when you go "sure, i'll come out with you".

Clean Again

Chapter 7: EATEN ALIVE read on AO3 | previous chapter | tumblr chapter index make sure to check AO3 for this fic's playlist and other extras!

Corey and Reader consummate their relationship.

general warnings for this fic - angst, fluff, eventual smut (MDNI), canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore contents/warnings for this chapter - alcohol and tobacco consumption, stalking, jealousy, angst, smut - mild somno (fantasy only), female masturbation, foot tease, scratching, biting, hickies, fingering, PiV, semi-unsafe sex, pulling out

6,557 words

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After the first night, Corey stays every time he comes over. You don’t have to talk about it, it just feels right. He keeps clean clothes and an extra pair of coveralls for work in his motorcycle’s saddlebags. You offer to buy whatever hygiene products he likes when you go to the grocery store, but other than his own toothbrush, he declines. You think he likes using your body wash, his skin smelling like you all day while he rotates tires and replaces starters. You wish he would let you buy his preferred products so you could go to work smelling like him, finally figuring out what you’d been searching for after the first time you saw him. 

He drops the pretense of coming over to fix things, but he doesn’t stop fixing things. He seems to like feeling useful, so you let him install a new shower head and disassemble your old DVD-VCR to clean 25 years of dust off the play heads and computer chip. Any project he can think of, you sit with him while he does it, watching the little micro facial expressions he makes while he thinks. You start doing repairs for him too, darning his socks, fixing the crude job he did attaching the patches embroidered with his name to his coveralls, re-hemming sleeves where the stitches have pulled out. 

You try to get him to go out and do things instead of hanging around your apartment, but he’s always apprehensive. He doesn’t want to go bowling or see a punk show, he rejects the mall and the beach, says no to museums and mini golf. You wish he would come with you to more places, but you don’t press the issue. You just want to be around him. Besides, there’s a million movies he hasn’t seen, bands he’s never heard of, games he hasn’t played. So you put him on the Spotify family plan you share with some friends, and sit next to him on the couch late into the night, regurgitating what you learned in Intro to Film Studies when he asks what you mean by "diegetic," talking progressively more smack as his Smash Bros technique improves. You don't go inside his apartment often, but one day you notice an old 12-inch TV with a built in VCR that wasn't there before. The next time you climb the mossy steps to his little studio, you notice the wires that snake from the back of it to a beat up looking PlayStation 2 and smile to yourself. 

You stand on the slab of concrete that constitutes your back porch with him while he smokes a cigarette. He lets it dangle with the cherry facing the ground and you lean in to take a drag from it, pressing your lips to his palm and looking up to keep eye contact with him. You let the smoke out in a perfect ring that expands and floats towards him, framing his stunned face. 

He accidentally-on-purpose lets slip that he can do a wheelie on his motorcycle. Of course you have to see it. As terrifying as the idea of Corey doing something so dangerous is, it thrills you that he’s not scared, that he’s skillful (or stupid) enough to feel safe taking that risk. He puts his helmet on and you kiss his nose for luck before he flips his visor down. You stand on the gravel drive of your apartment building in just your socks, biting your thumb with anxiety as Corey rides down to one end of the street. He revs his engine, showing off, before starting towards you. With no hesitation he pops his front tire off the ground. He leans back further, and further, getting much more vertical than you expected. You can’t tell if you’re giggling or screaming. He maintains the wheelie all the way to the other end of the street. When he pulls back into the driveway you rush into his arms before he can even get his helmet off. 

Sometimes, in the mornings, you notice his hard cock pressed against your back and you want nothing more than to wake him up by grinding on it. You have to extract yourself from his arms, coiled around you and heavy with sleep. One particular morning you wake to find your top has rolled down in the night and one tit is completely out. Corey’s already awake and you know he’s seen it. You quiver thinking about him staring at your body while you slept. Did he touch you? Broad, strong hand cupping and squeezing, thumb brushing your nipple, while you were unaware? He’s a good boy, you know he would never… But you get wet imagining that he did. 

On nights he doesn’t stay over, you touch yourself to thoughts of him. Picturing what might happen if you got the courage to thrust your hips backwards against his morning wood. Or if he woke up to find both breasts popped out of your camisole. If you rolled your shirt down yourself after he fell asleep to make sure he had something to look at in the morning. Could he resist? You slide your sweatpants and underwear off, wishing your hands were his. If you made a move, which Corey would you get?  Sweet, awkward Corey, turning bright red when he feels how wet you are for him. Aggressive, confident Corey, laughing and making you taste yourself on his fingers. You rub your clit furiously, imagining how pretty his cock must be, how it would feel stuffing you full. You cram your fist in your mouth so your neighbors won’t hear you calling out his name when he’s not even there.

Yet as badly as you want him, you’re not sure you’re ready to cross that line with him. Not just sex, but making things more permanent, more real. You’ve never had a problem keeping casual sex casual, but you feel, almost fear, that with Corey it would mean something. You’ve been single so long and so tepid about dating, you can’t quite imagine yourself in a relationship. Not having sex keeps him at a comfortable distance. You can tell yourself you’re not falling for him, that even though you've been sickeningly infatuated with him since the moment you saw him, what's happening between you is just a thing, as long as he’s never been inside you.  

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Corey holds your bare feet in his lap. Today’s cultural education assignment is iconic music videos. This morning he could count on one hand the number of music videos he’d ever really seen. Now that number has nearly tripled. The next video you pull up has a warning before it, making you click a button saying you’re an adult. He only has to wonder why it could possibly have that warning for a few seconds. Grimy images of raw meat and butchered animals flash on the screen between shots of naked women.  

He tries to follow the lyrics and realizes the song is very explicitly about sex. Heat rises to his face from under his collar. You press your toes into his thigh rhythmically, in time with the beat that reminds Corey of a train chugging down the tracks, dangerously close to his slowly thickening cock. He tries to keep his eyes on the screen. You slide your right foot up higher on his leg and he grabs your ankle, still refusing to look at you. 

You wiggle your ankle free from his hand and put both feet on the back of the couch behind him instead. The skirt you’re wearing was already barely covering your panties, but with your legs up they’re totally exposed. He steals a glance out of the corner of his eye. He can see the outline of your lips through the fabric. He clears his throat. He wasn’t sure if you were teasing him on purpose, but the smile that cracks your face at the sound confirms it. The man singing in the music video is blindfolded and handcuffed to the ceiling. Corey’s now fully erect dick strains against his pants.

“They played this video on TV?” He asks you, voice coming out creaky.

“Heavily censored,” you say. “Do you know anything about the Manson Family murders?”

“Not really,” Corey says, turning in your direction and desperately trying to keep his eyes on your face, even as you pull your knees closer to your chest. 

Murders. A topic Corey can’t seem to escape. He always thought that Haddonfield was uniquely obsessed with death because of Michael, but since he left he’s realized people are like that everywhere. But with your Carrie tattoo, your soft spot for maligned creatures, and the way you hunted him down at the library, you’re the one person in the world he might actually want to hear say something about murder.

“In 1969, a cult killed a pregnant actress and three of her friends in her home in Beverly Hills. They totally botched it, they made a huge mess and they all got caught super quickly. But they used her blood to write on the walls. This album was recorded in that house like, a little more than 20 years later.” You put one foot on his shoulder and drag your toes lightly down his arm. 

He grabs your ankle again. He knows you’re playing a game with him, but he doesn’t know the rules. Do you want him to give in to you? To use your ankle in his hand to spread your legs open and place himself between them, pressing his face or the bulge in his pants against the crease in your underwear? He would do so in a heartbeat if you asked him to, but he’s scared to make the move without a clearer invitation. Or do you want him to resist you? 

“What did they write?” Corey asks, releasing your ankle.

“One word,” you say, placing your foot extremely deliberately on his boner and pressing down. “Pig.”

In spite of himself, Corey rocks his hips, pressing his cock against your foot. With surprising swiftness you bring your other foot down from the back of the couch, planting it underneath you, and pushing yourself up. You slip the foot in his lap over the outside of his thigh and end up straddling him. He looks up at you in awe for a second before you slam your lips into his, kissing him aggressively, violently, grinding down on him. Invitation received. 

He kisses you back, wrapping his arms around your waist. The way you feel rubbing against him, even through all those layers, is indescribable. His heart pounds. His breathing quickens. He has wanted you so badly since the first night you kissed, but he’s held himself back, letting you determine the pace of things, his respect for you and fear of pushing you away giving him strength when the curve of your neck or the touch of your hand makes him weak. 

Corey presses up against you as you grind down. The sound you make is the most gorgeous thing he’s ever heard. He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You open your mouth more and he slips his tongue in. You put your hands on his chest, digging your fingertips in, using his collarbones like handles. With the way you suck on his tongue he can’t help but imagine how you might suck something else, a first he longs to share with you. 

As if you read his mind, you start to slide backwards, sinking off his lap and towards the floor. He lets go of you, holding his hands out of your way as you rub your face on his chest and stomach on the way down. Corey expects you to kneel, parting his legs, pulling on his zipper. He swallows hard, anticipation building. But you never quite do what Corey expects, do you?

When you’re fully clear of his legs you stand, and back away from him, moving around the coffee table, a strange look on your face. He reaches out for you, and you let him clasp your hand for just a second before taking one more step back, out of his range. Confused and slightly hurt, he scoots to the edge of the couch and reaches for you again, with both hands this time. What are you doing? Did he take it too far? Wouldn’t you be saying something if he did? 

He holds your hands in his hands and opens his mouth to check in, but you take another step backwards, slipping out of his grasp again. You give him The Smile. Then you turn around and walk away. The Smile. Corey understands the rules of the game now. He springs from the couch and takes two long strides towards you, closing the distance almost completely. 

You quicken your pace to stay out of his grasp, and he quickens his to keep you in it. You jog into the kitchen, your movements hidden for a moment behind the wall. When he can see you again you’re on the other side of the kitchen island from him. You’re both still for a moment, each trying to determine which direction the other will go in. You break at the same time, but you successfully fake him out, making him take the long way around the island. You screech with laughter as you scamper away.

He’s faster than you and catches up to you as you go through the archway that separates the kitchen and the dining room. His speed doesn’t make up for your cunning, and you whip one of the dining chairs out from under the table and slide it in his direction without stopping. The obstacle slows him down just enough for him to whiff when he reaches out to grab you. You squeal at the near miss. He turns to go the other way around the dining table and comes within inches of catching you again in the other doorway. You change directions as you round the corner, tucking yourself into the book shelf that leans against the wall. Corey has too much momentum to respond to your maneuver, and loses precious time running back in the direction of the living room.

He looks behind him and you’re gone. He skids to a stop and smiles in spite of himself. You little vixen. He creeps back into the kitchen, peeking around the corner first. No sign of you. On tiptoe like a Scooby Doo character, he makes his way around the wall towards the dining room, certain you must be on the other side. You’re not there either. What the fuck? Corey thinks. Then he hears a door opening in the hallway. 

He follows the sound. The only problem is that he doesn’t know which door it was, he couldn’t tell from the dining room. He stands in the middle of the hallway, thinking. He heard a door open. He didn’t hear a door close. From where he stands, the bedroom and bathroom doors both look completely shut. He turns and strides back up the hallway to the closet. The door is ajar. He’s got you now.

Corey flings the door open, prepared to hear you shriek in playful surprise. There’s no sound. He squints into the darkness and doesn’t see you. Hmmm. He reaches into the closet for the light switch on the wall and you grab his hand, appearing in the doorway.

He grunts and jerks back in surprise. You howl with laughter as you pull him into your arms. 

“You should have seen your face!” You taunt him. 

He can’t help but laugh with you, feeling that same excitement he felt in the library, floored by the way you played him up until the last second. He wonders again if you could survive an encounter with Michael. Then he feels guilty. Despite everything, Corey still harbors a fondness for Michael, his crooked mentor, a man so beautifully, perfectly free from what others thought about him. But he’d kill Michael with his bare hands before he’d ever let your survival be a question. He tightens his arms around you protectively.

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“So! Have you done it yet?”

“Oh my god, Veronica, are we in high school?” You ask, taking a sip of your drink. Your favorite bartender is working tonight, and they made it extra strong. You’re gonna have to pace yourself and leave a big tip.

“You’re taking so long it seems like you are,” she teases.

“I think you have it backwards. I fucked way sooner than this in high school.”

“Wait, who did you fuck in high school?” Veronica leans forward on her bar stool. “How did I not know this?”

“You don’t remember Matthew, he was a senior when we were juniors? Played trombone?”

“Oh yeah!” Veronica’s eyes light up in recognition. “I remember you guys dating. He was cool. I didn’t know you fucked him though!”

You nod your head. “I snuck him in through my window like, 4 days after our first date.”

“You little harlot!” Veronica says, laughing. “So what’s the hold up with Corey?”

You think about the other day watching music videos with him. How you’d teased him, testing him, testing yourself. How you’d walked right up to the line, and been desperate to cross it, but you couldn’t quite make it there. You can’t explain it to Veronica. You can’t explain it to yourself. 

“We’re just going at our own pace,” you say finally, shrugging.

“A snail’s pace,” Veronica says. 

You blow a raspberry at her as you hop off your bar stool. You hold your hand out to her and she deposits a pair of foam ear plugs. The first band of the night is your favorite local act, and you wanna stand right up front against the stage. 

Outside the bar between bands, you lean against the wall, sharing a cigarette with Veronica. Neither of you really smokes, but sometimes after a couple of drinks a little nicotine buzz is nice. A couple of dudes approach. They’re both extremely standard issue punk dudes, from the rolled back brim of the shorter one’s baseball cap, down to the giant fiend skull tattoo on the taller one’s shin. 

“Can we get a light?” The shorter of the two asks. Veronica hands over her lighter. They light their cigarettes, and the taller one pockets it.

“I saw that,” Veronica says, poking Tall in the center of his chest, then making a gimme motion with her hand. 

“Oh sorry, bad habit,” he says, fishing the lighter back out. You don’t make eye contact with either of them, hoping they won’t feel invited to talk as they smoke. No such luck.

“Did you like the band that just played?” The shorter one asks.

“Yeah, we come out to see them all the time,” Veronica responds.

“Oh really?” They say in unison, then look at each other. “Nice,” Short adds.

“We’re actually in the touring band. We play third tonight,” Tall says.

You tune the conversation out. Veronica gets caught up flirting. She forgets to take the cigarette back from you so you finish it. You gather that the short one was assigned to you, he keeps looking over at you expectantly, saying “So…” You don’t engage. You just tap the burning end of the cigarette, now little more than a nub, against the bottom of your shoe and toss it into the trash can behind him. 

Something catches your eye across the street. In the darkness under the portico of a closed bank, you think you see someone standing with their arms crossed. You know it’s crazy, but the silhouette feels so familiar. The slope of the shoulders, the cloud of hair. There’s no way it’s Corey, but you feel like you know it is. You strain your eyes scanning for details. You glance at all the vehicles parked on the sides of the street, but you don’t see his motorcycle.

“What are you looking at?” Short asks, leaning over your shoulder to follow your gaze. 

“Nothing,” you mutter. “Just thinking about something.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but you hear the next act taking the stage and turn away from him. You grab Veronica’s wrist to get her attention and you tilt your head towards the door.

“We’re going back inside now, nice to meet you!” Veronica says to Tall. You drag her away from them before they can say anything else. As you go through the door you look back at the bank, but you can’t see anything anymore. 

“Let’s leave after this band!” You shout into Veronica’s ear. 

“I wanted to see that guy’s band! He said they’re third!” She shouts back

“They’re gonna try to talk to us more!” You give her a pout that you hope conveys how you would rather eat glass than be stuck ignoring the shorter guy again. She rolls her eyes and you know you got through to her.

In the taxi home you call Corey. It goes to voicemail.

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“Hey! Show was lame, we left after two bands. It is… 10:33 right now. If you get this before 11:30 you should come over. If not, I’ll talk to you tomorrow…Okay. Bye.”

He gets your message at a gas station. After what he saw, he planned to ride all night, but he forgot to fuel up after work. He was tempted to keep going until he ran out, allowing himself to be stranded somewhere. But he knew the havoc that would wreak on his engine so, with some reluctance, he pulled into a station.

Who the fuck was that guy? When you’re out with Veronica is that what you do? Talk to guys? He’s watched you go home alone several times, followed your cab to make sure you were okay. But he’s never seen inside any of the places that you go, the bar windows are always blacked out or too foggy to see through. He feels stupid, gullible, impotent. The thought of going back to the bar and fucking that guy up crosses his mind. 

He flexes his hands, trying not to remember how it feels to knock out a tooth or crack a cheekbone. Doing his best to push away the images in his head of skin splitting, blood pouring. Yet even as he seethes, glowing green with envy, he’d rather lose you to some asshole than to his own destructive nature. He could never forgive himself if you got caught up in his bullshit like that. Like she did, he tries not to think.

He wants to ignore you. To act like he didn’t get the voicemail until the morning. But as he waits to turn out of the parking lot, he thinks about your voice. Didn’t you sound warm when you said “you should come over”? Didn’t you pause a long time before you said goodbye, like there was something else you wanted to add? With a sigh he turns out of the lot and rides toward your apartment.

When he gets there he bangs on the door. He doesn’t mean to knock so hard, but he’s so wound up. He practically falls inside when it swings open.

“Corey!” You exclaim in surprise. He brushes past you and paces around the living room. You stand there watching him for a moment. Then you take a step to interfere with the path of his pacing, cutting him off between the coffee table and the couch. “Hey! What’s going on?”

He turns and goes back the other way. “The show was lame, huh?” He says in a gruff voice. 

“Yeah. I mean, the hometown boys were good, they always are. But I didn’t wanna stick around for the touring acts. Are you okay? What’s going on?” You follow him around the living room with your gaze. When he gets close to you, you step in front of him again. “Corey?”

He starts to turn away from you, then stops. He hovers, hesitating, stuck between walking away and turning back to face you. Wanting to ask but not wanting to know. Afraid to out himself as following you.

“What are we?” He finally asks, looking at you in his peripheral vision. You try to put your hand on his face but he flinches away, finally deciding to turn and resume pacing. 

“I don’t know,” you say quietly.

“Am I your boyfriend?” He asks, facing away from you.

“I… Do you want to be?”

A dark chuckle bubbles from his lips. “Are you talking to anyone else?”

“Not at all!”

“What about tonight?” Fuck it, he thinks. Might as well.

“Tonight?” You sound genuinely confused. Then you remember. “Oh… I thought I saw you! Across the street at the bank! What were you doing over there?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” He comes up with the lie as it leaves his mouth, chickening out of confessing at the last second. “To come to a show, finally join you on a night out. But then I saw you talking to that guy…”

You laugh out loud. It feels worse than if you’d slapped him in the face. He spins around to face you, angry and wounded. He opens his mouth to speak again but you cut him off.

“Corey, I was doing my best to get away from that guy. Veronica was flirting with his friend. They thought they could have one each, but I barely said a word to him. I made Veronica fucking leave early because I knew he was gonna try to talk to me again, and I didn’t even wanna have to let him down easy. I just wanted to see you.” You come to him and put a hand on his chest. He lets you touch him this time, but he still doesn’t look you in the eye. He wants to believe you so bad.

“How do I know?”

“I offered to keep the shampoo you like in my shower, Corey. You sleep in my bed like, three nights a week.” He finally looks at you. Your face holds a mix of emotions he can’t quiet parse. Pleading and amusement and… understanding? “I know that maybe doesn’t help. I lived with someone who was unfaithful. His shower was full of my shit. But I promise you, there isn’t anyone else. I only want you.”

He takes your face in his hands. “Tell me again.”

“I only want you, Corey. Just you.” 

Your face still sandwiched between his palms, he pulls you in to kiss you. He doesn’t understand how he’s feeling. He’s a bow, fully drawn, straining to let go and make the shot. He shakes from the adrenaline he has no use for.

“Am I your boyfriend?” He asks again. The sound of his own voice surprises him. He sounds needy, almost like he’s begging. It’s embarrassing but it’s honest. He is needy. He needs to hear you say it. Twice isn’t enough. “Am I yours?”

“You’re mine. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Without thinking, he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites you gently. Your hand on his chest turns into a fist, grasping his shirt, and you make a small humming sound. Your reaction spurs Corey on, and he kisses and nibbles you ravenously.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You know it’s fucked up to enjoy Corey’s jealousy. You shouldn’t get any pleasure from someone else being upset, especially not the precious, volatile man you find yourself falling for. Can you even rightly say you care for someone if you find joy in emotions that bring them pain? And it doesn’t escape your notice that his jealousy is a huge red flag. He shouldn’t feel so possessive of you, least of all before you’d officially agreed to be exclusive. 

Still, it makes you swoon. It plays to your hard little cheated heart to be wanted so badly, wanted by someone you want too. Hearing him beg to be yours, you sense on some level it’s a demand as much as it’s a plea. It unlocks something inside you. It makes you feel wild. A heady combination of powerful and powerless. 

“What’s the hold up with Corey?” Veronica had asked. You didn’t have a satisfactory answer. Not for her and not really for yourself. You couldn’t put a name to the why . Some nebulous insecurity, a fear of being the second choice again, something cowering that you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you harbored. It doesn’t matter anymore. When it comes out of your mouth it becomes true. You’re mine and I’m yours. No more apprehension. You’re ready.

When he bites your lip, it’s such a surprise, you grab his shirt and a little groan escapes. You instantly feel a hot rush of wetness as your clit starts to throb. His hands move from your face to your waist, squeezing you and pulling you in as he kisses you, more voracious than you’ve ever seen him. You’re more than happy to let him eat you alive. You kiss back eagerly, using your fist full of his shirt to hold him close, closer.

He takes a step forward, keeping you pressed against him, but pushing you. He backs you across the living room to the couch, never taking his lips off you for more than a second, moving from your mouth to your jaw to your throat. His teeth scrape you tenderly and he presses his tongue against you like he wants to taste your blood through your skin. You feel the bright sting of hickies forming.

The couch hits the ditches of your knees and takes your feet out from under you. You squeal as you fall and Corey chuckles against your collar bone, coming down with you, landing on his knees with one leg between yours. He pushes that thigh forward, shoving your dress up around your hips. You accept his invitation, grinding into him, hard. With his hands he drops the straps of your dress off yours shoulders and the bodice slides down to reveal your tits. 

He cups them, just like you imagined, squeezing the softness, brushing your nipples with his thumbs. His hands are so warm and your nipples are so sensitive, you could drown in the flood it causes. He moves his mouth from your throat blossoming red and purple, back to your lips. You moan into his kiss. One of your hands runs through his hair, raking his scalp with your nails. Your other pushes his shirt up and explores his chest and back, enjoying his skin and gripping him for leverage to assist your aggressive grinding. You feel his cock on your leg through his pants and try to position yourself so your thigh rubs against it. You know you’re successful by the way he whimpers your name.

Corey’s whining sends a new wave of arousal crashing over you. Both of your hands fly to the waistband of his jeans. You need him out of these pants, now . You yank them off his hips and his boner pops over the top, his boxers stuck to the head in the center of a giant wet spot. You try to wrap your fingers around his shaft but he catches your hand and pins it next to your head.

“Not yet,” he breathes in your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Then he backs off completely, letting go of you and standing up. Your hands follow him, trying to bring him back, but he’s just out of your grasp. He hurriedly takes off his shoes, his jeans, then his flannel and t-shirt, leaving him in just his boxers. You drink in the sight of him, his broad shoulders flecked with freckles, his scars, the little patch of red hair between his pecs, his flushed face. God, he’s gorgeous, you think as your pussy clenches. 

He sinks to his knees. You sit up and slide forward on the couch, planting one foot on either side of him. He looks up at you, his brown eyes full of wonder. He takes the hem of your dress in his hands and you raise your arms over your head, allowing him to pull it off you. He presses his face to your chest, chin nestled between your breasts.

“I haven’t done this very many times,” he whispers hoarsely. 

You drop your head so your mouth is right next to his ear. “We can fix that,” you purr. He smiles against your skin before going back to devouring you, placing open mouth kisses on your face, your shoulders, your chest, your tits. You use your legs to keep him pinned to you and drag your nails up and down his back, leaving long red welts. His fingertips dig into your thighs. He mumbles something through his kisses. 

“What?” You ask, pushing him away just enough to be understood.

“Can I touch you?” He drags a finger along your inner thigh to show you what he means. His pupils are enormous. 

You nod enthusiastically. “Please.” You lift your hips off the couch and Corey peels your panties off you, dropping them to the floor. Your clit aches, you need him to touch you so badly. But you’re still not prepared for when he does. The dry spell has been long, and you’re not sure you’ve ever been with anyone you liked as much as you like Corey. He places his whole hand over your vulva. Just the sensation of his skin against yours makes you gasp and sigh. He spreads his fingers, spreading you apart with them, opening you up. The cold air hits your exposed wetness and makes you shiver. Then he slips a finger between your lips.

“Holy shit,” he groans, feeling the way you’re drenched for him. He slides his finger up and down, all the way from your hole to the top of your slit a few times before landing on your swollen clit. He rubs you with a skill that makes you suspicious of his claim to be inexperienced. “Is this good?” He asks, fingertip circling.

Is this good? You almost laugh at the question. As if the way you’re practically sobbing isn’t enough for him to know. “It’s so good,” you manage to squeak out. You’re getting close, breathing heavier and heavier as the pleasure builds up in the space behind your clit. 

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, both hands in his hair. You can’t help yourself, you pull it a little as you writhe against his hand, and he seems to like it. You pull harder, trying to confirm and distract yourself, delaying your orgasm just a little longer. But the sound he makes when you yank on his curls, guttural and whiny at the same time, does you in. You moan his name as you cum, head thrown back, thighs involuntarily clamping closed on his hand, whole body shaking. 

You keep his hand pinned for a few seconds after you cum. You look into each other’s eyes. Corey looks so awestruck you can’t help but giggle. The instant you let go of his hand he’s pushing you, guiding you to lay on your back as he climbs onto the couch, kissing you ferociously. Still in his precum soaked boxers, he lines himself up and rubs his cock against you through the fabric. It feels good but it frustrates you. You need to feel his skin, you need to feel him inside you. 

When he moves his lips away from yours to take a breath you put a hand on his chest, preventing him from leaning back down. “Fuck me, Corey,” you say. Your voice echoes his from earlier, that combination of begging and commanding. 

“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod your head and reach down with the hand not on his chest to pull his boxers down. He leans back and lets you sit up so you can remove them more easily. You finally get your first glimpse of his cock. It’s just as pretty as the rest of him, pink and glistening, perfectly proportioned as if carved by an artist, gently curving back towards stomach. His reddish brown pubes are curly and luxuriously dense like the hair on his head. You let out a little sound of appreciation. You can see it get to him, embarrassing him at first, then giving him confidence. He smiles a cocky little smile.

He moves his hips so the head of his cock just brushes your sensitive labia before sliding between them. He rubs his length up and down on the outside. It feels incredible. The soft slickness of his shaft is glorious, but waiting is agonizing. Just as you're about to ask again, getting desperate, he slips it in. Both of you moan at the sensation. He pauses with just the tip inside, then sinks all the way into you. He’s the perfect size, stretching you just right, hitting the depth you love. Like you were made for each other. 

Corey thrusts slowly, looking down at you with his eyebrows pinched together. You can tell from his facial expression that he won’t last long, but the way he’s made to hit that spot, you know you won’t either. You let your hands wander his body before coming together, fingers laced behind his head. You pull him down to kiss you. Kissing makes him thrust faster and you wind your legs around him to keep him from slipping out in his haste.

“You feel so good, Corey,” You moan in his ear. He grunts and tries to reply but it comes out unintelligible. His pink face looks almost pained. He slows his pace back down, but he increases the force of each thrust, resting more of his weight on you. He’s not the biggest man in the world, but he’s so heavy. You feel like if he wanted to he could squish you like a bug. He pounds you into the couch. Oh, fuck. Your mind goes blank, no thoughts at all, just the sensation of him hammering, right there. It’s too good to resist. You cum again, grabbing his biceps on either side of you and digging your nails in, thrashing underneath him and crying out.

Then suddenly there’s nothing inside you, and with a whimper from Corey, you feel something hot and wet land on your stomach. He collapses on top of you, panting. You hold each other for a few minutes, bodies weak and tingling from how hard you came.

“Sorry I pulled out without warning you,” he groans. “I didn’t know what you’d be okay with and I didn’t have time to ask.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that you thought about that,” you tell him. It’s a small thing, just basic respect really, but something so lacking in other people you’ve been with that it touches you. “I’m on the pill though, so you can finish wherever you want. Next time.” Next time.  

He peels himself off of you. He does his best to clean you off with the take out napkins scattered on your coffee table, but it’s hopeless. You rinse off in the shower together, and for the first time the two of you sleep next to each other naked.

[zukkaoru]

love your writing could you do zukka + 45? please and thanks 💜

ahhh thank you so much!! sorry this took so long to finish but i hope you enjoy <3 (featuring sokka with tourette's for corey bc uhh it just kinda Happened)

45. "I bought this for you. It's in your favorite color..."

Zuko is far more nervous than he should be about this.

It's not like he and Sokka don't randomly give each other gifts. It's just... usually those gifts are more along the lines of "I'm not using this anymore, do you want it or should I throw it out?" or "my sister is getting rid of this so I took it to give it to you" or "I'm at the store, do you need anything?"

The gift for Sokka that is resting in the bag clutched tightly in Zuko's fist does not fall into any of those categories. But he saw it while looking for a birthday present for Mai, and he knew he needed to get it for Sokka. He couldn't physically walk away without buying it for him.

But now, as he's setting the bag down on the table, being watched curiously by Sokka, he feels unreasonably stressed and half-wishes he had just walked past it.

"Find a present for Mai?" Sokka questions. He blinks three times in quick succession, and then rolls his shoulder.

Zuko nods. "Yeah. I spent about an hour on FaceTime with Ty Lee showing her different shirts, but we finally found one. I just hope it fits." He hesitates only for a moment before adding, "I found something for you too, actually."

Sokka tilts his head. "What?"

"Yeah, I just-- Well, let me show you." He reaches into the bag and pulls out the gift he got for Sokka. "Here. Um. I bought this for you. It's in your favorite color, and..." he trails off.

Sokka's eyes widened, locked on the item in Zuko's hand. It's a stress ball that is shaped like a penguin, and it's blue. Maybe if it had just been a regular penguin, Zuko wouldn't have gotten it, but...

But he knows how much Sokka loves penguins, and stress balls, and the color blue. Penguins have been his favorite animal since he was little, and blue his favorite color for about just as long. And he has a whole collection of stress balls that help with his tics and fidgeting - a collection he's always looking to add to.

"I love it," he breathes out. Slowly, like the penguin is going to disappear if he approaches too quickly, Sokka makes his way over to Zuko. "Can I--?" his eyes flit up to Zuko's face.

Zuko laughs. "I got it for you."

Sokka takes the stress ball, and squeezes it once. "You're my favorite person ever," he says, eyes focused on the penguin. "Zuko--" he looks back up, and then he's flinging his arms around Zuko and pulling him into a hug. "Thank you," he whispers into Zuko's shoulder.

Zuko just hugs him tighter in response.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

started making a slideshow about tourette's since ts awareness month starts soon and i want to educate my kids. it's like twelve slides (and that's forcing myself to Stop) and i included the trailer to "front of the class" and i've watched it so many times but it Still made me cry