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Milo Manheim - Blog Posts
I love Milo’s fuckass outfits
What do you mean random gray vest over all black. Kiss me on the mouth right now
milo’s story post ughhh i’m sorry yall this is so- he’s so-
(i know he posted this like 20-ish hours ago but im sick so😭)
@tumblr just because I like Milo Manheim and Robert Irwin and they just so happen to be hi my men, that does not mean I want any and all hu my men recommended to me. Personality means EVERYTHING. Do not give me regular hot boys. They must be absolute dorks, the biggest dweebs you ever did see, the silliest jesters who just so HAPPEN to be gorgeous.
I’m unwell about this photo specifically
Standing ovulation. I mean ovation. Whatever 10/10
It’s been three days. I miss Milo’s butt.
Why does him looking to the side look so hot!!?? I have a problem lmao
Also notice he’s looking at Maddie both times. That boy is in LOVE
I’m so serious PLEASE somebody message me if you want to roleplay Schoo Spirits I’m foaming at the mouth PLEASE
Listen I was not prepared for Milo’s bare ass
I was not sad about it, though.
Ugh, Milo the man that you are
School Spirits season 2 spoilers
Even though im DEVASTATED about Maddie not being with the ghosts anymore i AM holding out hope that she can see them still like xavier sees the hospital ghosts
my reasoning is
1. she was out of her body for SO long so maybe thats why she can see them
2. maybe since no spirit was in her body for an extended period of time (in the last episode) that allows her to see them
3. she developed SUCH a strong bond with the ghosts so maybe thats why she can them
also we dont know if mr. anderson can also see them but i would wager not since it wasnt very long that he was out of his body.
I very much like the idea that dying somewhere gives you the ability to see the ghosts in that location
PLUS i am SO EXCITED to see happy maddie bc yes she was live laugh loving life with the ghosts but she was still struggling bc of everything going on. my girl deserves to enjoy LIFE
ok anyways thats my opinion
yuri being an artsy, asthmatic, stoner who ignored all the ghosts except for an occasional chat w janet for 40 years and only stopped pretending to loop bc he thought a guy was cute is the REALEST thing
twin lowkey
Ride
Ryan Baker x Fem!Reader
Summary: A year after the chaos at Rightmart, you find yourself locked in a supply closet with the one person you hate the most.
Warnings: 18+, dry humping, enemies, slight edging, pure smut w/little to no plot.
a/n: you guys asked, and I delivered ;).
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The sound of your feet slapping on the linoleum floors echoes off the walls of the dimly lit hallways. Your lungs burn, your feet hurt and your throat is raw from screaming. Every time you breathe in, it sends bursts of pain through your chest, leaving you whimpering. But you know you can’t stop.
For the past 10 minutes, you’ve been swerving through the halls of your high school, trying to escape from the wrath of a killer. Plymouth, Massachusetts very own, John Carver.
Well, not actually John Carver. Exactly a year after the ‘incident’ at Rightmart during Black Friday, a psychopath decided to dress up in a plastic John Carver mask and go on a spree. He’s already claimed 2 victims in the past week alone. And, unfortunately, you’re next on his list.
His victims (so far) were each featured in the video your dumbass friend, Evan, posted online during the incident. He stood on a cashier counter and recorded the chaos of the shoppers around him, killing each other over 20% off waffle makers. Of course, you had your very own cameo. That video alone might earn you an axe in the head.
You turn a corner, skidding to a stop as the sound of the killer's footsteps completely ceases. The school is eerily quiet, the only sound you hear is your own blood pumping loudly in your ears.
Just as you begin to relax, assuming he left, a hand wraps around your hoodie, pulling you into a dark closet. A sharp gasp slips from your lips, filled with surprise and fear, but it's abruptly stifled as a strong hand clamps down over your mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut, worried if you open them the first thing you’ll see is the cool metal of an axe pummeling towards your face.
Instead, as you muster the courage to peel your eyelids apart, the world slowly comes into focus, revealing Ryan Baker mere inches away from your face. Seeing how close he is, you’d honestly rather take the axe.
It has been a year since Ryan abandoned you in Right Mart, a day that still haunts you. You still remember the cold tile beneath you as you sat, paralyzed, while screams echoed around you and chaos unfolded. Ryan, your ‘best friend’, vanished when you needed him most, leaving you shaking on the cold floors, blood pooling around you. So, you vowed to never speak to him again, let alone look at him.
You try to fight against his hand, but he pushes it further against your mouth, his leg trapping you against the wall. He looks through the slit in the door, and you squint, following his line of sight. Footsteps echo past the door, the sound of metal scraping against the wall vibrating through the thick wood.
The realization hits you like a semitruck. Ryan just saved your life. The killer must’ve turned the other way and looped around. Had Ryan not pulled you into the closet, you would’ve run headfirst into the man.
The footsteps disappear, and the only sound you can hear is the front door to the school swinging open and slamming shut. The fear and anxiety bleeds out of you once you know you’re safe, those feelings being quickly replaced with anger. Your hand finds his and you pry it off your mouth, taking a deep breath.
“Why are you sitting in a closet like a creep?”
He scowls, genuinely appalled at your lack of thankfulness. “I just saved your life and that’s all you can say to me?”
With an exaggerated sigh, you roll your eyes in a mix of annoyance and reluctant acceptance, knowing he’s right.
“Would've been nice if you did that last year.” You reach for the doorknob, fingers wrapping around the cool metal. The knob doesn’t turn, instead, it makes a horrible grinding sound that reverberates through your bones. Ryan doesn't seem to notice, instead opting to run his mouth like usual.
“Are you seriously still fuckin’ mad about that? I already told you why I left-“
“Ryan-“
“No- I’m talking! You’d be fucking dead-“
“Ryan! The door is stuck!” You yell, stopping his rant.
He finally pauses, and glances over at the knob. He turns it, the grinding sound filling your ears, making you wince. His eyebrows furrow in frustration as each turn of the knob brings the same conclusion.
He throws his shoulder against the sturdy door repeatedly, each hit resonating with a mournful groan. Despite his efforts, the door remains in place, holding its ground.
Fuck.
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He’s way too close to you. The closet is small and stuffy, leaving both of you barely any room to move. Ryan is sitting across from you, his knees pushed against yours. After sitting on the hard concrete floor for what feels like hours, you begin counting the different things that line the shelves. 27 toilet paper rolls, 18 paper towel rolls, and 3 dirty rags... A mop, 2 brooms… Okay, you’ve officially gone off the deep end.
Your train of thought is interrupted by Ryan. He hasn’t even moved, nor made any sounds in the past 10 minutes. It's his cologne. It fills the small space, and it makes you dizzy. The fragrance is expensive, musky. Fucking intoxicating.
Right now, when you’re supposed to hate him, it just makes you fucking furious. He has no right to smell like that... And look at you like that. And look like that. God, why does he look so good?
He clears his throat, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Scoffing, you pull your knees closer against your chest. “Because I’m mad at you!”
Ryan runs his hand through his thick brown hair, a few strands falling in front of his eyes. Shaking his head in frustration, he lets out a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re still mad about that! You’re so dramatic.”
Your face drops, and you stare at him blankly. His audacity is genuinely astounding. “Are you serious?”
Ryan opens his mouth for a second, his voice dying in his throat as you interrupt him. “You abandoned me in the middle of that fucking store. You- You left me to die, Ryan!”
The boy shakes his head, laughing bitterly again. God, he’s infuriating. “You know what? You seemed pretty protected already,” He scoffs, resting his arm on his knee. You raise an eyebrow, wondering what the hell he was talking about. Countless times, you’ve argued with him over this. It was always the same excuse: “I couldn’t find you in the crowd, so I left.” But, this? This was new.
“The fuck does that mean?”
He pauses, seemingly recounting that night. “Bobby. He was all up on you. You seemed fine, so I left,” he mutters, his voice laced with bitterness and… Jealousy? Something you can’t place.
Utterly dumbfounded, you laugh in surprise, fingernails digging into your palms. “Are you fucking kidding me? Bobby?!” It was the lamest excuse you have ever heard. Last year, he abandoned you in the middle of the purge for god's sake, because he saw Bobby ‘Golden Arm’ Di Stasi breathe within 2 feet of you.
Ryan scoffs again, his 20th within the hour. “I don’t get why you care so much! You’re fine! He seemed to have it all covered.”
“Because I wanted you there! Not fucking Bobby!” You yell out, voice reverberating off the walls.
Startled, Ryan recoils, eyes widening in shock. A brief flash of guilt crosses his face before he quickly hardens his resolve, transforming that guilt into a simmering anger. “You seemed pretty fuckin’ comfortable, princess,” he volleys back, voice laced with venom.
“I’m sorry he was actually there for me, unlike you! Seems to me that someone got jealous because they saw an attractive guy on top of me,” you blurt out.
Ryan’s face twists into purse disgust. “Attractive?? Stop dick riding for one fuckin’ second!”
“What’s with you and dicks? You wish it was you?” In all your years of being friends, you never were at the point of making sex jokes with him. Now, they seem to keep spilling out.
“I don’t know, you seem to know a lot about them!” He leans against the cool surface of the wall, tension radiating from his posture. His eyes, sharp and narrow, pierce through the dim light, filled with accusation.
“God, fuck you!” You let out a derisive laugh, a sharp sound that hangs in the air, as you avert your eyes from him.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He leans forward, his voice getting deeper. You still refuse to look at him. “Me taking you, right here in this closet?” His tone is teasing, dark. It’s meant to be a joke, played off as something just to get under your skin. But his eyes gleam with challenge.
You turn your head back to Ryan, your lips almost brushing against his, the tension heavy. He slid closer during the chaos of the fight, his body trapping you in. Cologne envelopes you like a blanket, your heart hammering in your chest.
“And what if I did?” For just a split second, Ryan’s eyes widen, his pupils blowing.
Just as you’re about to fight your own words, you suddenly feel the warmth of his lips pressing against yours. A firm hand grips your waist, drawing you closer until you find yourself nestled between his legs. Instinctively, your hands push against his chest, seeking balance as your heart races. The kiss breaks, and his eyes meet yours—glossy and unfocused.
You’re nestled between his legs, the warmth radiating from him grounding you as your fingers rest gently on his broad chest. His hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly against your skin. “Shit—I'm sorry—” he stammers, just as shocked as you are, even though he’s the one who started it.
Confusion swirls within you as you try to grasp the reality of what just happened. Your eyes search for answers, but all you find is a wide-eyed stare that mirrors your own bewilderment. His lips part slightly, as if he might speak, yet silence continued to hang heavily between you.
Within a few heartbeats, you pull his lips back towards you, teeth hitting his. The kiss is all teeth, desperate and intense. He gasps against you, hands wrapping around your waist to steady your body against his own. Underneath you, he crosses his legs, pulling you into his lap, causing you to yelp.
Hands finding the back of his neck, you tangle your fingers into the thick hair at his nape. He groans softly, tongue flicking across your bottom lip, seeking entrance. Obliging, you part your lips, inviting him in. With another groan, his tongue finds yours, tasting toothpaste and something sweet.
You whimper softly, eyebrows pulling together. He pulls at your hair, giving himself access to the side of your neck. Tongue sliding against your jaw, he peppers kisses along the sharp bone. Shaky breaths escape your lips with each press of his lips. For years, a part of you wondered what the curve of his mouth would feel like against your neck.
But, now, in the present? It was better than anything you could ever conjure up in your head. A nip of his teeth at your pulse point pulls you out of your thoughts. “Fuck…” Soft whines and whimpers leave your throat, matching the rhythm of Ryan’s lips against you.
All of your movements cease as he wraps your legs around his waist, pressing his hips against yours. You pull back, blinking down at him. Through all the fabric, you feel something pressing against your core. Your gaze is drawn to where your bodies meet, as you gape at the noticeable bulge in his jeans.
“See what you do to me?” Ryan groans out, grinding his hips up slowly, the friction making you bite your lip. In real time, you can feel him harden beneath you. Despite your many fantasies, you’d never imagined this. Ryan was just your best friend. The kid who used to bathe in pink bubbles. Never once did the thought that he even had a dick crossed your mind.
Now, sitting right on top of him, knowing you did that to him, your brain goes fuzzy. All thoughts are thrown out the window, your head filling with pure lust. Testing the waters, you grind against his jeans, watching each twitch of his face.
Large hands slide down your body, grabbing a handful of your ass. Ryan pulls you harder against him, guiding your hips with his hands. Each movement causes fabric to rub against your clit, your fingers digging further into his bicep. He readjusts, spreading his legs apart for you, his hand bracing on the floor behind him.
The feeling in your stomach tightens with each calculated roll of his hips. As much as you want all of him, the feeling is intoxicating. Neither of you can bring yourself to stop—even to strip. Ryan’s groans fill the closet, mixing with your escalating whimpers. The coil within you twists into knots, your hips jerking with each movement.
Ryan keeps you steady, making sure he’s hitting all the right spots. You feel your panties sticking to you, soaking straight through your too-tight shorts. Looking down, you see the denim on Ryan’s jeans darken. He doesn’t seem to mind, instead nipping at your collarbone.
“Ryan- Please,” you whimper, legs beginning to tremble softly. He leans back to look at you, grunting as he rolls his hips harder.
“Please what? You wanna come, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice mocking. All his movements stop, his fingers digging into your ass. You sneer at him, your eyebrows knitting tightly together in frustration. Heat throbs uncomfortably at your core. “Use your words.”
“Fuck you!” You spit venom at his face, your forehead pressed against his as your chest heaves. A low chuckle rumbles in Ryan’s throat, his fingers squeezing your hips. His bruising grip foils any attempt to move.
“Come on, I know you have it in you,” he urges, rolling his hips slightly, bringing you teetering over the edge. Whimpers leave your lips, frustration bubbling deep within you. He wants you to beg? Fine, you’ll fucking beg.
“Please,” you breathe out softly, biting your lip, eyelashes batting. Ryan shakes his head, seeing right through your little act. He holds you still for what feels like hours, not satisfied with any of your answers. You can tell he needs a release too, but it’s obvious how much the ‘sick fuck’ is enjoying it.
“Please, Ryan,” you whimper, desperation leaking into your voice. Your resolve crumbles as you lose yourself in a blind desperation.
“Please, please…” you repeat, over and over, pure lust crowding your vision. Never in your fucking life–especially not in the last year–did you expect to be pleading with Ryan Baker to make you come. But here you are, panties soaked, face painted with crimson, planted right on top of his dick.
Finally, he deems your pleading good enough and he continues his movements, this time moving deeper. Slower. Within a few moments, your legs tighten around his waist almost painfully. You throw your head back, your mouth open in a silent scream. He watches you tremble with a smirk on his face, your body jerking on top of him violently.
Obviously, his teasing was too much for you. Each time he brought you close to the edge, it just increased your sensitivity. Still, he rides you through your orgasm, his hips chasing yours, seeking his own release. Face twisting, he bites down on your neck, marking you as his. As he bites down, he groans through his teeth, hips jolting up. Wetness spreads beneath your ass, the evidence of his orgasm clear, even through his jeans.
You pull back to look into his eyes, still catching your breath. In the dim light of the closet, he looks fucking gorgeous. Strands of thick black hair fell over his forehead, his lips plump and smeared in lip gloss. Inside the walls of the closet, it’s only him. No Rightmart, no Bobby, no John Carver. Just him.
Basking in the moment for just a second, you press your lips softly against his. Maybe you’ll never forgive him, but as your legs continue to tremble, your feelings inevitably begin to change. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, sneakers slap on the floor just outside the closet.
Both your heads snap over to the door, pure fear cascading down on you, pulling you out of your fantasy. The doorknob twists, the harsh sound reverberating deep in your soul. Neither of you makes an effort to move, frozen in fear. What can you do? Beat him with a wet mop?
Suddenly something snaps and the door swings open, causing the person on the other side to stumble slightly. As the fluorescent light pours into the stuffy dimly lit room, your eyes widen. On the other side, your entire friend group gapes, way past dumbfounded.
Jess stares down at you both, her jaw hanging open. There was no getting out of this.
Eyes flicker over Ryan’s tousled hair. His lips, glistening with Cherry gloss, draw attention like a magnet before the group's gaze settles on the large damp patch spreading across the fabric of his jeans. As if your being caught sitting on his fucking lap wasn’t damning enough, they continue to stare blankly at you both, inspecting you like Sherlock fucking Holmes.
In a few heartbeats, chaos erupts.
“Ew! What the fuck!” Gabby yells, her voice rising by almost 4 octaves.
“I thought you hated him!” Jess says, tearing her eyes away, obviously too uncomfortable to even process what’s going on. “Does getting chased by a fucking serial killer turn you guys on?!” Evan runs a hand through his hair, genuinely shocked, a state you’ve never seen him in before. “Y’all are fuckin’ freaks!” Scuba laughs wildly, clapping his hands as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen.
Yulia just stays silent. You knew always liked her the best for a reason.
As your friends continue to hound you both, you slowly stand up, Ryan following suit. He follows behind you like a puppy, earning a clap on the back by Scuba. Jess shakes her head at you, too lost to even be disappointed.
You both do the walk of shame through the hallway, pants uncomfortably soaked through. As you shuffle your feet, your friends laugh and elbow you in the ribs. Ryan steals a few glances, sporting a smug smirk.
Dick.
Still, you can't help but smile back.
Bubblegum
summary: Zed has a bad day and needs an outlet before he goes on a rampage. guess who has to save the town from a possible Zombie attack? yep. it's you or no one.
pairing: Zed Necrodopolis x fem!reader
warnings: smut. AU - canon doesn't exist here. zombies being zombies. biting. this is not your Disney's Zombie.
💌this is a little bday surprise for @therosietoesy 🩷 i'm still working on your request, my dove, fret not. i just wanted to actually gift you something 🥰
bonne fête, ma belle
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Bubblegum
The thing about Zombies, you learned, is that they need to bite. The Z-Bands keep a lot of things in check, basically slow-release sedation to tamp down those violent urges, but if their heartrates rise above a certain level, the technology is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.
And Zed's heartrate? Well, in the wake of the Prawn's devastating loss—that he shoulders the blame for—and another infestation of creepy creature that wants to whisk Addison away forever, Zed is on the brink of a total meltdown. To put it mildly.
His sockets are already black as the abyss when he finds you behind the school, snarling and spitting as he tries to ask for help, for an outlet; need you, now. He grabs your wrist as soon as you get to your feet and tugs you against him. Red lips curled back, yellowing teeth bared, the monster inside him clawing its way out faster than you'd ever seen.
You give him a pretty smile, "You wanna take this somewhere private, big guy?"
And, no, he fucking doesn't. Can't. Too consumed by thoughts of beating his fat cock into you until you scream. At this point, he can barely string together a sentence, words reduced to throaty animal noise. You giggle, sweet as sugar, and raise one hand to cradle his jaw and boldly sweep your thumb across his bottom lip.
"You're in bad shape, huh?" You comment, not surprised when he snaps his teeth at your thumb.
Breathing labored, eyes boring into you as you gaze so fondly up at him, "Want," he manages to growl. You don't consider it an attack when he grabs you roughly and pushes you against the wall, brittle nails digging into your flesh as he lifts you by the backs of your thighs. A long pause wherein he just pants against your neck and then, "Please."
Such a courteous beast.
His Z-band is practically wailing, the sound reminding you to cast that neat little spell you've been using since you and Zed started this thing.
You mutter the incantation between stinging kisses before he savagely shoves his tongue in your mouth, fucking it in and out as he tries to taste every tooth and ridge and soft piece of tissue. God, you live for these moments. When he's completely at the mercy of his darker side. The side he tries so hard to smother outside of Zombietown. The side you love.
Not to say you don't love the whole package. It's just that you're more exclusive with the monster than the man. Person Zed isn't as...upfront about what he wants with you. Less demanding, more cautious. Meanwhile, Zombie Zed is a lot more decisive and has sunk his teeth into your neck to claim you more times than you can count. Hence the rubber-skin spell. Keeps your skin intact and the Zombie cooties from spreading.
He finally releases your mouth, biting and kissing a trail from your jaw to your pulse point. He pins you to the wall with his hips as his hands claw under your shirt, fisting into the fabric before, without warning, he tears it open. Needy. Desperate. Fucking hungry for you in his ragelust.
You can feel him through his jeans, huge and growing as the Zombie takes over completely, and your mouth waters. This is going to hurt in the best way. He grinds himself against your pussy; sharp, vicious strokes a threat of what's to come, all the while panting and snarling into your skin as he chews chunks of flesh that don't tear away from your throat.
Witches and Zombies really do make the best match, you think greedily, equally as frenzied as you yank his shirt over his head. Then it's skin on skin, your bra in pieces at his feet; his big, calloused hand groping your tit just this side of painful. He grunts, hips moving harder, faster, blunt teeth grazing the soft underside of your chin.
"Want," He rasps again, long fingers teasing under your skirt and pressing insistently between your pussy lips through your panties. In a brief moment of clarity, Zed leans back, expression pleading, "Baby, let me—fuck, I can't—" And then it's gone, the green mist rushing back in, making his eyes wild and his movements stiff as rigor mortis.
You don't even have the chance to give him permission before his fingers dig under the edge of your panties and plunge into you, corkscrewing deep as he growls in delight at how wet you already are for him.
"Mine," Zed bites into your throat, and you don't disagree, moaning as his fingers snap in and out, drilling your sweet spot. "Only mine."
There's no point echoing his sentiment, Zed so far under that he doesn't actually care to hear your thoughts, just wants to make sure you're aware that you're owned. He removes his fingers long enough to rip a hole in your panties, then to get his fly undone—the button flying, zipper torn—and his jeans pulled down enough to free his dribbling cock.
His free hand clenches a chunk of your hair and he angles your head, presses his brow against yours, demanding, "Tell me." He teases the fat head between your lips, pushes in the barest fraction, and smirks when you keen.
For a second, you have no fucking idea what he's asking until you remember, "I want it, Zee."
"Again."
Louder, "I want it, please, Zee."
Zed leans in, nips your earlobe and breathes, "Good girl...perfect little prey for me..." and then, fuck, he spears inside you, the feeling like being split in two. He has one hand on your ass, the other tangled in your hair, his teeth deep in the join of your shoulder and neck.
Every thrust is brutal, punching sighs and whimpers from your chest. He doesn't care if it hurts. He needs this. Needs you like this. And you lose yourself in it as much as he does, your nails mauling welts across his back. The sensation coaxes him to move faster, harder, both hands on your hips now to guide you on his cock exactly how he wants. Your tits bounce as he fucks you with everything he has, your brain scrambled from the sheer fucking strength he has at his disposal.
"Close," He grunts. He sinks to his knees, keeps your back against the wall, and fucks up into you with abandon. His head thrown back, lips parted, eyes clamped shut in ecstasy. "Fuck, baby, gonna come."
He slams into you a few more times and then roars his release, biting into your neck with the intention of ripping flesh from bone. Zed stays like that, his cock pulsing inside you as he spills an ungodly amount of Zombie seed, so much that some oozes around his cock. He hitches his hips three, four, five more times before going still.
The wailing soundtrack of his Z-band finally stops. You don't actually need that to tell you he's slowly returning to normal. His muscles loosen marginally, his skin warms; popped veins shrink and his skin adopts a less sickly hue. Still grey, just less dead. It takes a minute for him to calm all the way down, and when he does, he removes his teeth from your neck and lifts his head.
You smile at him, gentle, fond, "Hey, big guy. You with me again?"
Zed swallows. Nods. His gaze falls between your joined bodies, and he licks his lips at the sight before glancing back up at you.
"Did I hurt you?" He has to know, his concern palpable.
"No." You promise, "You never actually do."
He doesn't look like he believes you, but he doesn't argue. Not today, anyway. You watch him take in your torn shirt and basically disintegrated panties and bra. With a cringe, he hands you his shirt.
"You know, one day I'm going to bill you for everything you've shredded," You say playfully in an effort to prove you're okay.
It works, "You'd think by now you'd start bringing an extra set of clothes with you." He teases back, smirking. It's the first time that he's acknowledged how he gets when the Zombie takes the wheel, and you almost miss it because you can't get your brain to get your mouth to work fast enough.
"You keep saying 'this is the last time, cutie, I swear'," You parody his voice as you roll your eyes. "So, why would I prep for something that isn't suppose to happen?"
And Zed looks utterly confused—still cockdeep inside you, mind you, hardly softened at all.
"I mean the last time I'll be rough. You know that I've claimed you, like, eight times," He says, again acknowledging for the first time what happens when his inner Zombie comes out.
You're almost stunned at how casual he's suddenly being about everything after months of ashamed side-eye and stilted aftercare.
"I think that's a pretty convincing argument to be prepared, babe." He tacks on, his expression telling you that you should've known.
Gaping at him, "Wait, I thought all of that was heat of the moment stuff?" You blink wide eyes at him, almost falling back on your ass when he dislodges you and helps you to your feet.
"Heat of the mo—You know I'm still me when I'm Zombied Out, right?"
Actually. No. You didn't know that. You assumed up to this point that Person Zed and Zombie Zed were completely separate entities with conflicting views on what they want from you.
Oops.
"So, when you say I'm yours...?" You ask slowly, not quite able to believe that this whole time you've possibly been Zombie married.
Zed scoffs, hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his body, his gaze turning dark and heated. "It means your mine, baby girl." And then, "Why the fuck do you think I come to you when I'm having a meltdown?"
"...because I don't scream in terror and run away?"
"You're an idiot." Zed snorts as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.
You shrug, "Apparently, I'm your idiot."
In playful retaliation, Zed nibbles your neck, bites and pulls the skin, chuckles, "Definitely mine." Then, dangerously, "but it looks like I gotta make sure you really understand what that means," he murmurs right as his Z-band beeps its first alert.
fin.
🫧___________________________
also on AO3!
Star-crossed lovers
Y/n's POV
Wally’s POV
Author's Note: It's possible that this could turn into a series, but for now, this is just a singular fanfic. If there are any recommendations for future fics or a continuance of this one, my requests are always open ♡
~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~
Drabble Flashbacks
Key:
☆: fluff
◇: angst
♡: smut
Freshman Year
Pt.1 Protection and Cameras 📷 ☆
Pt.2 Ferris Wheel Nerves 🎡 ☆
Pt.3 Ice cream Meltdowns 🍦 ☆
Pt.4 Arcade Nights and Almost Wins 🎮 ☆
Pt.5 Lake day shenanigans 🤪 ☆
Pt.6 Lazy Mornings at the Diner 🍽 ☆
Pt.7 Fireworks and Almosts 🎆 ☆
Sophomore Year
Pt.8 Night swims 🏊♂️ ☆
Pt.9 First "Date" 🥤 ☆
Pt.10 Bike Races and Bruised Knees 🚲 ☆
Pt.11 Halloween of 1981 🎃 ☆
Pt.12 Homecoming Proposal 81' 💃 ☆
Pt.13 > Homecoming Dance 🕺 ☆
Junior Year
Pt.14 Late-Night Drive-In 🚗 ☆
Pt.15 Record Store Arguments 💿 ☆
Pt.16 A Mistake That Changed Everything ◇
In progress:
Pt.17 Aftermath - Wally’s POV ◇
Pt.18 Doubt - Y/n's POV ◇
Pt.19 The Truth - Y/n's POV ◇
Pt.20 Collision Course - Wally’s POV ◇
Pt.21 Aftershock - Wally’s POV ◇
Pt.22 Late-Night Diner - Wally’s POV ◇
Pt.23 Rebuilding - Wally’s POV ◇
Freaky Ahhhh Headcanons
Wally Clark x AFAB!Reader
Warings: This is just pure smut. Oral (both giving and receiving) Overstimulation. Face sitting. Public Exhibition. Slight Dacryphilia. Kinda Rough. I think that's it.
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This man is a Freak with a capital F. Jaw dropping, eyes rolling back, sheet grabbing, pantie dropping, pussy dripping freak.
Munch Munch Munch, idc if it's an outdated term it’s the only way i can describe him. He’d have you on your back or stomach for hours while he lays between your legs. He won't stop until you’re begging and crying for mercy. (I need a lobotomy)
With that being said he would beg you to sit on his face. He doesn't care how light or heavy you are, he needs your full weight pressed against him while he eats you out from below. He’d make a complete mess of you. Have you doubled over, body limp as you try to pull your hips away only for him to pull you back down begging to make you cum just one more time.
He’s a romantic but the poor guys been dead for 40 years and there aren't a lot of options in the school so forgive him if he's a little selfish at first. He’d absolutely destroy you, a rough brutal pace while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.
On that note he's very vocal. Loves telling you how beautiful you are especially when you’re on your knees for him. “Fuck baby, you look so beautiful taking me down your throat like that.” Said as he wipes away the tears gently running down your face. (Again SOMEBODY SEDATE ME)
After your first time together he wouldn't know how to keep his hands off you. The memory of you beneath him constantly playing on repeat in his mind.
He loves the idea of showing you off and since the living cant see either of you he uses it to his advantage. He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere. Over a desk in the middle of an active class? Why the hell not? In the pool while the swim teams practicing? He's diving right in. Teachers lounge while the sad sacks sit around drinking coffee? Absolutely.
Lets not forget about the resets. The body never changes aka infinite energy. Round after round after round.
(Okay I’m done. I wrote this at work so sorry if it's shitty. Honestly I think I'm losing my mind. Like actually clinically insane. I think it’s time I call my therapist. Happy valentines day 😚 💞)
Also maybe I just have issues with authority figures, but Mr. Martin gave HORRIBLE vibes from the start to me
Chat ima crash out if i’m looking at school spirits posts and Milo Manheims BARE ASS SHOWS UP AGAIN. ‼️I DONT WANNA SEE THATS SHIT GET IT OFF MY PHONE SCREEN NOW‼️ 🙏 IDC HOW ATTRACTIVE THAT MF IS I DON’T WANNA SEE THAT
Just in case you’d like a lil bit of a headcanon for why they didn’t even SPEAK during this beautiful and heartbreaking scene, here’s a lil oneshot
SCHOOL SPIRITS — 2.08 "Fire, Talk to Me"
School spirits has one of the strongest season finales I have ever witnessed
I was joking with my friends that Wally would fuck with High School Musical only to realise how well Scream from HSM 3 fits him
And now I'm experiencing emotions