Why Is He So Sexy? I Can’t Handle Thisss

Minor Malfunctions

plot: Zed’s Z-Band decides to send him into an odd frenzy

pairing(s): Zed Necrodopolis x afab!cheerleader!reader

warning(s): 18+, SMUT SO SMUTTY, this might be shitty im sorry, doggy style, (slight) non-con, frenzy!Zed, sort of in heat style?, biting, sorta breeding????, public sex, p in v, no protection (WRAP IT PEOPLE), CHARACTERS ARE 18 AND ARE SENIORS

a/n: YALL IM SO TIRED OF THERE NOT BEING SMUT FOR ZED PLUS I NEEDED THIS TO BE OUT IN THE WORLD!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this could not be happening to him. The loud beeping filled his ear drums as he stared at his watch. He accidentally had knocked a drink over onto his watch and somehow it had made it freak out. He was trying to go to school as fast as he could to see if Eliza could help in any way, slowly but surely his mind was starting to fuzz up and he was losing any sense of control.

the sound of cheers could be heard from the football field outside of Seabrook High, the familiar sound of his girlfriends voice louder than any of the other cheerleaders was ringing in his ears. And just like that any of the control he had built up was out the window. His body was overly hot and his mouth felt dry. But this was different from his usual zombie frenzies. He wasn’t thirsting for flesh, or any sort of human anything…well. That was a lie. His body was aching all over and he felt a sudden tightness in his black jeans. Was this frenzy…making him aroused?

he let out a low growl as he skulked onto the field, watching the cheer team disperse leaving his familiar love alone. The closer he got the more he could smell her, and the worse the heat felt surrounding him. The shorter girl heard the footsteps and spun around, making immediately eye contact with the zombie teen. Her bright smile would usually cause him to smile as well but with his frenzy in action he only gave a snarl.

“Zed! I thought you had gone home….hey, are you feeling okay,” her question seemed to go unheard as he reached her.

His arms shot out and grabbed ahold of her, yanking her into his chest roughy as he buried his face into her neck. For a few brief seconds he just smelt her, feeling his mouth started to salivate from her delicious scent. Every fiber of his being was crying out to taste her fully, to put her into his mouth.

“zed, you’re kind of scaring me right now,” she let out a whimper as Zed pressed against her more.

his mouth opened and latched onto her skin, listening to the sharp intake she took. She tasted so delicious, like a batch of cookies…if they had been outside cheerleading and had been spritzed with sweetpea perfume. He gave a groan as he started to leave open mouth kisses along her neck, listening to her let out shaky moans. She tried to push him away to fully look a him but he swatted her hands away and held her tight to his chest.

It was only a few minutes of him marking her up, took entranced by her taste but the brain fog cleared just enough for him to slide his hands up her uniform shirt, listening to her squeak as his cold fingers brushed along her soft skin. His fingers brushed along each of her ribs before grabbing ahold of her breasts, groaning as he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra at all. She flinched away a bit which caused him to let out an angry growl. He pulled his face back and, with the strength given to him by the frenzy, ripped her cheer top clean down the middle.

The girl went to complain but was knocked speechless as she was taken down to the ground. Her breath was gone but only for a second as Zed pulled her cheer skirt up her thighs to pool around her hips and then ripped both her underwear cover and her panties themselves off her body leaving her practically naked to him.

the panic began to set in as she realized they were out in the middle of a field at school. She had prayed to whatever was up there that no one would come out and catch her with her zombie boyfriend between her legs. Between her legs??? When did he get there? It didn’t matter now, as his hands were moving her legs up a bit to rest on her chest and his face was being buried into her pussy lips. A cry of pleasure and surprise erupted from her chest as her head flew back and hit the ground of the field. Her fingers gripped the grass roughly, trying to keep her grounded as slurping sounds came from the zombie teen. He was slurping her like she was his favorite drink and fuck did it make her even more aroused.

his tongue was poking and prodding at her entrance, carefully lapping up her slick and thrusting deep into the tight cavern. He could already feel his chin become soaked from her arousal, but he didn’t care. She tasted so good and he was fucking starving. He carefully moved to wrap his mouth around her clit and sucked carefully on it, letting his tongue roll figure eights onto the bundle of nerves which caused her whimpers to turn into high pitched moans.

she could already feel herself getting closer to the edge, her eyes crossing a bit as she prepared for the delicious feeling to finally crash over her. But it never came. She moved a bit to look at her boyfriend, to complain that she was almost there but was left speechless as he was pulling his pale hard on from the confines of his skinny jeans. She’d seen it before but each time still surprised her. How could he be that big?

With a swift push she was spun to her hands and knees, her ass being yanked back to him. The knowledge of their location had popped back into her brain and she turned her head to look at him again, “Zed, wait please what if someone-.”

a loud moan erupted from her throat again as Zed pushed into her entrance, her fingers wrapping up in the grass again as he gave no time to adjust as he fully sheathed himself inside her tight cunt. Her head fell forward a bit as she tried to relax herself but Zed had no intentions of letting her relax. He grabbed ahold of her hips in a bruising vice as he started to bring his hips back, only to slam right back into her. And he didn’t stop there. His pace he had set was unforgiving.

the sound of skin on skin was loud on the field, along with the cheerleaders cries of pleasure and shouts of the football captains name. Loud growls were emitting from the zombie teen himself, the need to fill her full of his cum was almost too much to bare. With a push, the cheerleaders face was pressed harshly into the grass and the new found angle had her squeezing tight around her sex crazed boyfriend. The feel of his cock bruising her cervix was started to build up that knot in stomach again and she was so ready for it.

she reached back for her boyfriend and slapped her hand against his arm, her loud sobs of carnal pleasure were fueling both his ego and his frenzy and he could feel himself twitch inside of her. The thought of finally being able to fill her made him let out a animalistic growl and his hips started to fuck even faster into her.

and thats all it took as the cheerleader let out a scream of his name, her cum splashing back against his raging cock sent the zombie himself to orbit. With a few final harsh thrusts he was burying himself deep into her and spilling his seed into her womb. And as her hand fell from his arm, it carefully brushed the z-band and somehow zapped it back to normal.

Zed went back and flopped onto the ground behind him, his chest heaving a bit as he tried to gather himself. And after a beat he shot up again and scrambled to his fucked out girlfriend, eyes wide with concern, “baby. Holy shit i’m so sorry.”

the girl gave a soft whine as she wad picked up and cradled in his arms, shivers running down her spine as she realized her boyfriend was normal again. She leaned into him and closed her eyes, relaxing a bit. “Fucking hell, Zed. What was that?”

He gave an awkward chuckle as he reached to her cheer bag that had been strewn away as he had attacked her earlier. He carefully pulled out the extra leggings she had and tugged them onto her as well as his jersey she also had stashed inside, “i accidentally spilt some juice on it earlier and it went on the fritz. But that frenzy…fuck i don’t know where it came from.”

she stood up on shaky legs following her boyfriend and gripped onto his arms, listening to him chuckle at her shakiness. “Well, whatever it was…it was kind of hot.”

Zed felt his body tense a bit at the his girlfriends new kink discovery and sighed, knowing damn well he’d have to pull it out more.

“you better pay to get me a new uniform, Necrodopolis,” she snapped as she picked up her shredded uniform.

it was worth it, right?

── jealous girl

paring stiles stilinski x fem!reader, word count 316, genre angst, ( masterlist )

jealousy. jealousy was the only thing that could explain how you felt right now in this moment.

the cheerleader uniform that you wore for tonight’s game seemed to be getting everyone else’s attention beside his, stiles.

he seemed to be too preoccupied with the new girl. she obviously had a big crush on him, but he was too clueless to notice.

you listened in on their conversation, as you separate with the rest of the cheerleaders to go to your locker.

he was leaned against his locker telling her some story. the same exact story he tells you about to help you go to sleep on restless nights. him and scott was practicing lacrosse and with stiles poor aim at the time he accidentally hit scott in his face leaving him with a black eye for a couple weeks.

she was laughing and touching his upper arm being a bit too comfortable with him for your liking. stiles was nervous after the touch on his arm his heartbeat picked up rapidly. you noticed that afterwards he continued to steal glances at you every five seconds.

poor girl was in denial believing she had a chance. once the bell rings signaling to go to class. you shut your locker and make your way through the crowd to meet him at his locker.

"baby, you ready?" you smiled, not even sparing a glance at the girl.

"yeah," his eyes lit up once he saw you. he shut his locker adjusting his backpack. "see you later." he waved at the girl, as he slipped his hand in yours intertwining your hands together walking off to first period.

it was sad really. the next day the girl was reported dead. apparently, she was attacked by some kind of animal that completely ripped her throat out and gutted her.

he was yours no one else in this world could have him.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2023

Cuddle Bug

summary: a flashfic exploration of Wally's inability to be anything but a plural image when you're within reach. aka: he's codependent as fuck and neither you nor he care.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. smut lite. AU - everyone is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🍃

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch. No surprise there. The guy needs cuddles like flowers need sunlight to thrive. Always has. Being a ghost for 40 years exacerbated that need, and now that he's a real boy again, he can't help himself. Wally sits too close, hugs hello and goodbye, touches arms and knees when he's telling a story.

It's just that much more amped up when it comes to you.

He was affectionate before you and he became inseparable. Lightly grazed your hand when he walked beside you, found every excuse to tackle you when he tried to teach you football techniques. Ajay and Charley stood there like extra wheels even though it'd been Wally who'd rallied everyone to the field.

What? Your giggle's so damn cute! No way was Wally going to be able to focus on anything else!

Besides Charley's just as bad when Yuri's around, and Simon can't even function when Maddie gives him the eyes. So, everyone can suck it as far as Wally's concerned.

During group activities, Wally would find a way to sit next to you. Would squish his long limbs between you and Maddie and give you a bright, boyish grin. Sometimes he'd stare Xavier down until he got the hint and scooched closer to Nicole at the lunch table, leaving a gap that Wally could settle into beside you. His arm around your shoulders and his knee touching yours. Totally innocent.

Wally brought your favorite snacks to Game Night, established himself as your personal chauffeur despite the fact that you lived closer to Simon and Rhonda, and loyally helped you filter clothes when you and the girls went shopping. Yes. He'd made himself one of the girls just to spend time with you. Don't look at him like that; it worked, didn't it? 👀

Since accepting him as your boyfriend (he grins so big, his cheeks ache), Wally's dependence on your touch, warmth, shape against his, has increased a hundredfold.

You sit on the picnic table before the first bell, chatting to Maddie and Claire about something Wally isn't listening to, his arms around your waist, upper body slumped between your legs, head resting on your thigh as you rake your fingers through his thick hair. Oh, he could die all over again and be the happiest of ghosts just for this. Not that he wants to be a ghost again. Not unless you're with him this time. Which would require you to die, too, and that's a terrible thought and he's never going to tell you about it. But the sentiment remains. Wally doesn't want to do anything without you, ever.

He managed to convince the secretary to put him in all your classes, pouting and pleading his case that he'd been dead since 1983 and, "it's so traumatic coming back, she's the only thing I have that feels real...please?" A tactic that he should stop abusing, but it worked on all the teachers when he requested to be sat next to you. Every time a teacher caved, Wally would fold into the desk beside you, beaming like a winner. And who cares? Mina and Ajay, and Charley and Yuri pulled the same doe-eyed trick and got what they wanted, why couldn't Wally do the same?

On Fridays, everyone piles into Wally's high school best friend's living room—Rodney now Wally's legal guardian for reasons—to have movie marathons. There's trivia to guess the movie. Winner gets one veto and can insert their own choice, but there's three movies in total so pick wisely! They figured out awhile ago that Wally sometimes (always) lets you win trivia when it's his turn to play his lineup. You never veto anything, equally as eager to watch what he opts for. It drives Simon and Ajay insane.

He takes over a whole couch, the three-seater, sprawls long-ways and tucks you between his legs, your body draped over him like a blanket as he wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for anything. He traces patterns on your back, cradles your head against his chest, soaks up the physical contact like a sponge after years of ghostly numbness.

In the school halls, Wally keeps his hand on your hip. He kisses your head and cheeks and jaw. Doesn't care who sees because you're his girl and he'll do what he wants, thank you. He's proud that you call him yours and wants to show off who his heart belongs to. This one! This one said yes!

You're in his lap more than your own seat when the group descends upon Max's Diner after football games (that, no, Wally doesn't participate in. That era is firmly in the past and he'll never don a jersey again; sorry mom, God bless, rest in peace). His hands are all over you as you engage Rhonda in conversation; on your thighs, waist, back, hips. Anywhere and everywhere that's still appropriate in public. His head under your chin, eyes closed as he listens to your heartbeat, strong and steady, the rhythm matching his.

Wally rolls over in his bed, crushes you beneath his weight as he plays dead—knock on wood that that won't happen again for many years—and tries to stifle his laughter when you struggle to reverse the position. Eventually, he showers your skin with kisses, nudges between your thighs and laces his fingers with yours, pressing his smile to yours before kissing you deeply.

The sex is amazing, but nothing beats the afterglow when he has you pliant and sweet, curled into him on your side, your face in his chest, his hand on your lower back, whispering how much he loves you as you doze. Call him codependent, but Wally doesn't want to spend even an hour without you. He isn't a lost puppy, knows how to behave like a man. He just spent too many years being forgotten that he still has trust issues.

And you don't mind. You welcome it, in fact, and that makes Wally feel safer than he ever has. It makes it easy to ignore the looks people give you and him when you agree to go somewhere, "only if Wally's invited, too" because you and he are a package deal. And he does the same for you. Obviously, not for the same reasons, you're perfectly fine being alone, it's just that Wally's not ready to experiment with your absence just yet. Maybe never will be.

Rodney's long since accepted that Wally's room has become your room. From married and childless to married with several formerly-dead teenagers and their SOs, Rodney and his wife have accepted their homebase status like champs. They treat you like family—you have a house key for the rare occasion Wally isn't with you after school—and acknowledge that Wally can't sleep without you without suffering.

He stays curled around you all night, kisses you awake, big hand trailing from your waist to your hip as he nips the top knot of your spine and grinds his morning wood against your ass. God, you get him hard so easily, Wally sometimes thinks he should get checked out. You hum then sigh then turn in his arms, hook a leg over his and press yourself against him in exactly the right way.

Through half-lidded eyes, Wally gazes at you. Licks his lips as he rocks his hips slowly and watches your expression go from sleepsoft to wanting. You like how that feels baby? You want it inside you? And he kisses you deep and thorough, rolls you onto your back to fit between your legs, groans when one of your hands squeezes his ass through his boxer-briefs.

He needs to be inside you yesterday, loves how you feel, tight and wet and hot around him. Soft touches turn hard, light sweeps of lips turn to teeth and tongue and fresh bruises on your neck. Wally loves to taste you first, to prolong his pleasure by giving you yours, his tongue delving into you and sucking your clit gently; deliriously slow because he can't get enough.

It's not until you're begging him so pretty for his cock that he finally lets himself fuck into you, so hard and sensitive his brain explodes upon fitting deep inside you on the first thrust. A refrain of fuck, yes and oh God baby, you feel so good fills the room—sorry Rodney—the headboard smacking against the wall in time with Wally's hips. Throughout, Wally holds you like something precious, kisses you like salvation, breathes you in like he can't live without you.

He makes sure you come first before he even thinks about letting go, the sensation of you shaking apart around him ripping his own release right from his core. Wally licks into your mouth, moans like a beast, and then, one two three more stunted thrusts and he goes still. Hazy eyes hold yours and you can see the depth of his emotion for you. At least, he hopes so. How he'll treasure you forever. He'll never love anyone as much as he loves you. That's a promise and a threat and he smiles a lazy smile at you as you begin to giggle.

"What's so funny, baby?" Wally nudges your cheek with his nose.

"Nothing, I promise, I'm just...really happy." You tell him and he moans in delight.

"You don't feel suffocated or claustrophobic like Rhonda said you would?" Wally asks, a little insecure. Okay, a lot insecure, even if he doesn't usually feel that way about how reliant he is on your proximity. You've never given him a reason to feel anything but safe and happy and loved, but still. Rhonda knows how to hit bone even when she means well.

You shift, forcing Wally to look at you, your hands cradling his jaw, "Never. I will never, ever want this, us, to be anything but exactly how it is. I love having you all over me."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." And you grin, a warm little thing, "I like sharing everything with you. It's nice. My very own witness to my life."

Wally kisses you again, another slow, deep, sentimental gesture; everything he feels poured into it, before he settles down on top of you, careful not to crush you, his head above your breasts and his eyes fluttering closed. Relaxed. Sated. Safe.

Wally Clark's love language is physical touch, and, in this second chance at life, he's profoundly grateful to have found someone fluent in it.

fin.

🍃___________________________

also on AO3!

if you liked this, you may also enjoy Fifty Seven.

fluff. between 1982 and 1983, Wally meets and falls completely head over heels for a girl who changes everything. his biggest fan, his greatest love. you.

rafe cameron lactation kink + him dry humping🫣🫣

warnings: domestic!rafe, dad!rafe, husband!rafe, slight nipple play, titty sucking, dry humping, brief mention of being insecure

“why are you covering yourself?” rafe laughed, sitting up under the covers as you made your way to your shared bed. “baby fell asleep before i could nurse. now i’m all swollen..” you mumbled, wincing once you curled into rafe’s chest. “want me to get the pump?” he was about to get up but you stopped him, a sigh leaving your lips. “no, m’too tired for that right now.” you draped a leg over his waist, clinging to him so he couldn’t go anywhere. rafe hummed, rubbing a large hand down your backside. “jesus christ.” he looked down between the two of you.

your tits were practically spilling out of your nightgown, the swells of your breasts so plump and full, rafe couldn’t help but reach out and take one in his hand. you gasped softly, your eyes fluttering open as he ran his thumb across your nipple. “please be gentle, i’m so sensitive right now.” you laid on your back, allowing your husband to pull the neckline of your gown down. “shit, you look so good like this.” rafe ignored your words, grabbing you more firmly. biting your lip to keep quiet, your fingers wrapped around his wrist in a poor attempt to make him loosen his grip.

rafe rolled one of your sensitive buds between his fingers, his mouth falling open when a single drop of milk trickled down his hand. “rafe..” your hid your face in embarrassment, only for him to cup your chin to make you look up at him. you watched as he brought his hand up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the milky substance with a satisfied hum. “i understand why our baby always wants to be latched onto you,” he squeezed your nipple once more, “you taste so fucking good.” he hovered above you, sliding between your thighs. “is there milk packs in the freezer?” you eyed rafe.

“no. i was going to make some in the morning,” he nodded, lowering his head, “why?” just as you asked him, he muttered a ‘sorry, kid.’ before his lips wrapped around your perky bud. “oh!” you whimpered, running your nails across his buzzed head. your hips instinctively moved against his, both of you moaning in unison. “do you like this?” rafe swirled his tongue, the wet sound making you flustered. “mhmmm,” you hummed, eyebrows knitting in pleasure. you knew rafe loved your tits, but enough to drink from them? you felt dumb for feeling insecure in the first place.

“don’t want you to stop.” you arched into him, his erection sitting snuggly between your folds. the thin material both of your underwear did nothing to conceal you from the head of his cock rubbing against your clit. “oh, my god,” rafe was shamelessly grinding against you, both of you trying your hardest to keep your moans and groans at bay. a particular stroke of his hips had you yelping, his hand coming up to clamp over your mouth. “shhh, you don’t want to wake the baby up, now do you?” you shook your head, the band in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

rafe couldn’t believe he didn’t do this sooner. he was already obsessed with everything about you, he didn’t think there was anything else to obsess over. but this? he coudn’t get enough of it. your were holding his head in place while you let out the prettiest little cries, his movements faltering as he cummed inside his boxers. not long after, your thighs trembled around his waist while you clenched around nothing, your orgasm ripping right through you. thankfully, rafe’s palm was helpful in muffling your scream of his name, his mouth pulling away from your tit with a pop.

rafe helped you come down from your high, the corner of his lips lifting in a teasing smirk as he slipped off your nightgown. “let’s do that again, except this time i’m gonna fuck you stupid while i have you like this.”

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

___________________________🫧

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!

love story - ben plunkett

summary: the love story of you and your dorky best friend, ben plunkett || warnings: none || genre: fluff || word count: approximately 450

first thing i thought of is his little blue ford fiesta lol

you were always in that thing with him

cause he was always driving you places

but he didn't mind

he liked doing that

besides, whenever you were in the car with him

it almost always ended with karaoke sessions

the two of you singing your heart out embarrassingly loudly to the most random songs

people in the other cars on the street would give you guys looks

but neither of you cared

you were too busy having fun

enjoying each others company

then, he'd take you on "friend dates"

you called it "friend dates" but he never did

he actually got obviously flustered whenever you called it that

and after you realized you'd developed feelings for him

you could never look at the name or the thing itself the same

okay, back to the “friend dates”

he and you would watch a movie every friday and then eat at a diner in town

it was your little tradition

whenever you’d go to the diner, you guys would attempt to try everything on the menu

and eventually you guys would

but it'd definitely take some time

neither of you were very popular

and when people did see you guys, you were always together

so... everyone thought you guys were dating

neither of you even realized that before some popular kid came up to you guys and was all like "no nuts plunkett has a girlfriend?"

it was so awkward between you twofor the rest of the day tbh

but when he picked you up to bring you to school the next morning.. it was just like normal

when prom came around, you weren't exactly planning on going

but when you could tell that ben lowkey wanted to go

you asked him to go with you

as friends, of course

he smiled and said "yes"

and when prom finally came, you were both embarrassingly dressed very '80s for the prom theme that literally no one even followed

he started dancing with you since he could see you looking at all of the couples, wishing you could dance with someone

and when he was dancing with you, he leaned down and kissed you

and you kissed back

after a few seconds, you both pulled away

you were in shock about what just happened

he was blushing

"i- i'm- i shouldn't have-" he started

"ben!" you said, making him stop

"ben, i like you" you told him

he dorkily smiled at you

"i like you too" he said back before softly kissing you again

and that is the love story of you and your dorky best friend, ben plunkett

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

For the freaks

Ben Plunkett x Afab! Reader

Warnings: Smut Headcanons, Slight Somnophilia, Oral (both giving and receiving) Riding, Inexperience, Ben being a sub cus I said so. I think that's it.

Such a sweet shy boy. Def a virgin but he wouldn't mind you changing that.

Let me start this off with something that's been playing in my head on repeat all day, waking him up with head. 😫 I just know he would be all confused and blushing, a deep shade of red covering his whole face, ears, and down his neck.

"baby- what are you doing?" Said through whines and whispers. (Imma just go put myself in time out) His hands coming down to pull your hair back as he watches the silhouette of your head bob from under the blanket.

He whimper and you can NOT tell me otherwise. This man is a sub and is not ashamed of it.... Okay he's very ashamed and embarrassed but like it's your job to tell him it's okay.

Very inexperienced and I mean VERY. He seems like the type to be scared to watch porn so be patient with him.

Once he figures out what he's doing he's not shy to give you a little something something 😏 He would rather succumb to lockjaw than stop eating your pretty pussy. (Again time out)

Will whine and pout if you try to pull him away. "Just need you to give me one more baby, please, just one more." Said with your juices dripping down his chin.

He loves having you on top of him. Watching your tits bounce as you ride him, worshipping your body. Hands roaming nervously, not exactly knowing where to go.

Knocks the fuck out after. I mean deep sleep but only if you're cuddled up to him.

(okay I'm done 😊 bye bye 👋🏻)

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 1 — 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

You'd both sworn. You'd sworn that you wouldn't subject yourselves to sex in the Jeep ever again. Not after the last time ended with so many unnecessary injuries between the two of you. Following one rolled ankle, a noticeable egg on the back of your head, and a bruise to Stiles' elbow that had been so worryingly dark that the purple had been mottled with spots nearly black in color, it was decided that handjobs were fine, blowjobs were great, fingering was.. sufficient. But full-out sex — You had sworn, never again. And, yet..

You can't find it in yourself to care when the dizzying warmth of Stiles' breath falls against your spit slick, kiss swollen lips. Your mouths have separated only as a result of the way he's trying to maneuver you into a better position, a closer position, large hands encasing your waist as he drags you over to straddle his lap. The moment you've settled against his thighs, his hands are already pushing their way up underneath your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties as his mouth finds its way to your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

And fuck if your own hands aren't already scrambling to undo the button on his jeans, tearing them open and pushing up on your knees just enough that you two of you can work his pants and boxers down his thighs just a few inches.

His cock springs free, already almost fully hard with the anticipation of what's to come, and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You will never tire of the sight of Stiles' cock, you're sure of it. When your hand wraps around him, your fingers don't meet, and when you give the fat length of him a gentle tug, he groans deliciously into the skin of your throat, hips jerking up as he chases the feeling.

“Hey, slow down, why don'tcha?” Stiles teases softly, “Why're you in such a hurry, huh? Got somewhere else to be or-” He cuts off with another quiet groan as you twist your wrist the way he likes, “Or something?”

“Shush, you.” You reply with a smacking kiss to his mouth.

His fingers are moving in a teasing touch beneath your skirt, skimming the sensitive skin of your belly before finding home on your thighs. He gives the softness a pinch just hard enough to have you gasping before he's slipping beneath the fabric to drag long fingers between your folds.

“Shit, babe,” Stiles groans, his lips finding your cheek again before he drops a light kiss to your chin, “You're this wet already?” He asks, as if you haven't been working each other up for the last twenty minutes with heated touches and even hotter kisses.

He punctuates his question by slipping two fingers inside you in a ridiculously easy glide, the stretch making your eyebrows pull together as your jaw falls slack. He's giving you shallow thrusts, trying to open you up a little and get you ready for what will come next, and your free hand falls to his arm, tethering yourself with fingers circling his wrist in a firm grip. The way the muscles in his arm work with each drag out and then back in has your fingernails digging little crescent moons beneath the dark hairs on his forearm.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and it feels like it might weigh a million pounds when you drag it forward again to drop your forehead to his, your hips rocking down onto his fingers and your hand still working him to full hardness, closing over the head of his cock and collecting his precome just to slip back down his length again and again.

It had been days of longing glances across crowded rooms, and lingering touches that were a little unnecessary but desperately craved, and pushing maybe a little too far into each other's space when one of you needed to grab something just to feel the sparks along your skin. Each tiny moment shared had built upon one another slowly, day after day, and now that you're together, skin on skin and teeth and tongues on lips — that fire between you finally burns bright again.

You're both panting a little breathlessly already, worked up beyond belief after not finding moment alone like this in what feels like ages. Hot breaths mingle between your parted lips, the sound of it broken up by the quiet little noises clawing their way up your throats.

You've missed him desperately amidst the chaos that the week has brought. You find yourself wanting him to wreck you beyond repair, to turn your brain inside out until he is all that remains — no stresses about infuriating assholes in the form of college professors, or pack disputes, or the supernatural threat of the week — and the way Stiles continues to work his fingers inside you, pushing in deep until he's caressing that spot that makes your vision white out a bit at the edges, you think he's well on his way toward that wreckage.

“Condom?” You question desperately, tugging at his wrist in signal for him to extract himself from you.

He's muttering to himself while he fumbles to get access to where his back pocket is scrunched up beneath his thighs and you push up onto your knees all the while, maneuvering your underwear down one leg and then the other until you're free of them. When he produces the little foil packet, you take it from him without prompt, tearing it open and rolling it down over him in a quick, practiced motion that has him biting his lips together to hold back a curse.

Stiles slides his hips down the seat a bit further and grips the backs of your thighs to support you as you guide his tip to your entrance. The moment you start to sink down, his fingers dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, fingertips curling below the curve of your ass to help spread you wider as he fills you up nice and slow.

“You got it, baby,” Stiles praises quietly, lips catching against your cheekbone to leave a small peck to your flushed skin, “There y'go.”

You're shuddering through your breaths as you accommodate to the stretch, knowing that every inch just a precursor to where he's thickest at the base. It's slow going, painful and delicious all at once, but when your hips finally meet his, clit nestling right up against the thatch of hair that trails from his belly button down to where you're connected, you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

Now that you're seated, his hands leave your backside to skate higher, rough fingertips dragging up to the back of your skirt to massage at your spine. You feel him fiddle with the zip at the back, his eyes meeting yours in silent question before you're nodding and he's giving it a tug and freeing you from the thick fabric.

You can't help but look down, and that first glimpse of where you've sucked him in, where he's filling you to the brim, has you eagerly rocking your hips a little to test the stretch. There's still a bit of an ache, a sharp little sting where you're stretched the widest, but it's lessening already and you can feel that pleasurable fullness behind your navel settling in.

“Almost,” You update him quietly, combing your fingers through the strands of his hair and grinning softly when he cranes into your touch, “Jus' need another minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” He returns earnestly, “You know I'm just enjoying gettin' you like this. Missed you. This week was the worst.”

And it truly has been. Nearly every minute of every day, start to finish, has been an onslaught of lectures and assignments due and pack bullshit that you're both inevitably dragged into every goddamn time — the presence of the token pack humans always necessary if only to give another perspective to a mundane issue that, really, probably could've been solved by your brother and his co-alpha alone. Scott and Derek really shouldn't need to drag the two of you into every little problem — which in turn would leave the two of you with ample time to sneak off somewhere to do this, perhaps in a bed, without the risk of bonked heads or twisted ankles or the bruises that came with ravishing each other in such close confines. And yet, and yet.

You nod in agreement, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape to give it a soft tug, “Been so busy with classes. N' there've been way, way too many pack meetings,” You complain in a quiet huff, “Not enough time for this..” He grumbles his own agreement as your thumb finds the large beauty mark beneath his ear, “I missed you too.” You return softly.

Stiles is patient as ever, his fingers taking the time to explore every bit of exposed skin on your body with a gentle touch. His arms circle your waist only to release you a second later to run his warm palms up your spine and give your shoulders a squeeze. His movements slow for a moment when he finds the band of your bra, pinching and unclasping it in a practiced motion, and then his big hands are making their way back to the front of your ribs, thumbs dragging against the soft underside of your breasts as he dips his head to press kisses to the newly exposed skin.

You lean back a bit to give him more space to work, savoring in the feeling of his mouth peppering soft kisses over your breasts as your own hands fall from his neck to rest on his pecs. Your fingers trail over dark freckles that dot his skin, nails scraping ever so gently into the patch of hair at the center of his chest.

Even with the windows cracked to let in a bit of the crisp autumnal air, the temperature in the Jeep creeps higher, the windows already fogged over with a thin sheen of condensation that smears lightly when you brace your right hand against the window. Five little streaks through the microscopic drops of water covering the cool glass, one to mark where each of your fingers scrape across the surface as you finally rise up onto your knees.

A pitiful little grunt falls from your lips as you drop back down, the sound pushed out with the sheer depth that his cock manages to reach in this position, so full that you can nearly taste him at the back of your throat.

You settle into a slow rhythm and Stiles grabs a hold of your hips as you do, but he's not guiding you, no. He's not aiming for control, not pushing you to go harder or faster, but rather simply holding on and following your movements, his thumbs tracing little concentric circles against the sides of you belly as you go at your own pace.

“Fuck,” You groan when your knees slip a little against the leather seat. It pushes him impossibly deeper than before, driving his tip against your cervix in a way that erupts goosebumps along your skin even in the warm car. “You’re so deep. 'S so big, baby. You're so big-”

You're not even sure what's coming out of your mouth, already a little drunk on the feeling of being filled so completely, on the slick drag every time you rise up and then the sharp jolt to every one of your nerve endings with each thrust back down. Despite the ramblings falling from your lips, or perhaps because of them, Stiles begins to make little noises of his own — guttural moans against the curve of your throat, quiet grunts each time he hits deep.

He tips his head back and the warm brown in his eyes is almost completely taken over by black with how his pupils have blown wide. You catch sight of a small bead of sweat as it works its way out of his hair and begins a slow trail down his temple but you're kissing it away before it can reach his cheekbone. The salt of it lingers on your lips when your tongue runs over them just a moment later.

Dark eyes watch you move with rapt attention, his lips parted to let out low groans of encouragement. It takes a few minutes for him to find his voice, but when he does, his words send heat flooding through you.

“So good,” He tells you, hand tucking a lock of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before his wide palm settles against the side of your neck, his voice thick with arousal, “Always so good. You're- Shit, y're so tight. So warm. So perfect.”

The thumb resting at the bottom of your cheek creeps up higher, rubbing the plush of your bottom lip until your jaw falls slack in acceptance and then he's cupping your chin and pushing the pad of his finger down against the softness of your tongue. You bite down softly with a moan and your bottom teeth dig into the meat of his palm with just how deep he's got his thumb before you're pulling off just a little and closing your lips around it, sucking and swirling your tongue and reeling at the way his eyes flutter shut with a groan, like he can't quite handle the sight in combination with the way you're riding him slow and deep.

When he removes his thumb, you suck harder to combat the spit that threatens to cling to the digit, but it doesn't make much of a difference because he's already sliding his hand around the back of your neck and bringing your mouth down against his.

You brace one hand on his stomach to aid your moments as your tongues meet in a hungry kiss. A whimper finds its way up your throat when he rubs his free hand achingly slow up and down the front of your thigh, around to grope your ass and then back, smoothing and squeezing along your skin like he wants to be touching you more — Harder, tighter, everywhere all at once.

He's so, so deep like this and you can tell it's affecting him too. His kisses are hungry as he licks into your mouth, a little messy while his nose presses into your cheek and his fingers graze your waist on their journey toward your chest. He's thumbing over the peaks of your nipples, swallowing up your moans with his own, breathing a little like he's the one getting the air punched out of his lungs every time you seat yourself, burying him deep enough that the head of his cock is driving into that spot that makes you see stars.

Your brain goes a little hazy with your budding orgasm, tiny noises becoming more frequent, falling against his mouth a bit like a plea. You don't need to explain, Stiles is already dragging his hand up to push between your thighs, thumb circling your clit the way he knows you like. Your eyebrows furrow as you slip from the kiss, far too focussed on chasing your high now. You bounce a little faster, shallower, fingers scraping at the pale skin of his chest, eyes pinched shut as your thighs tremble with exertion and your knees ache.

Heat licks across your body, a bead of sweat trickling down your spine as your movements start to become a little more difficult. You're so close — so close-

“C'mon, you're doing so good, baby.” Stiles says with far too much tenderness, far too much amazement.

“Fuck,” You whimper, shaky breaths tearing from your chest as you teeter closer and closer, “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“You got it. You can do it. C'mon-”

His gentle praises send you careening over the edge and your whole body shakes as you try to work through it. You're struggling, but then Stiles' hands are under your ass again, guiding you this time, gripping the backs of your thighs tight as he supports some of your weight and helps you ride out your high. Every nudge of his cock against the deepest parts of you has you moaning louder, brain going a little fuzzy as your orgasm peaks but never quite dies off.

Your arms curl around his shoulders, digging your face into his neck as you gasp against his skin, thighs shaking as he keeps guiding you back and forth, not pulling out nearly as far now before he's dragging you against him and filling you back up. Your breasts are pushed tight against his chest. The smell of his aftershave is in your nose and your forehead is pressed into his sweat slicked neck. You're panting, nearly drooling on his shoulder as you try to lock your knees to hold yourself in place, thighs feeling exhausted and like jelly all at once.

“Sti. Fuck, baby, I can't-” A moan cuts you off as it rolls off your tongue, “My legs can't-”

“Aw, your legs too tired, baby girl?” He asks, and it comes out a little condescending. You can practically see the satisfied little smirk on his face, even from where your own is buried in his neck as you nod. He lifts you up a little higher, hands still grasping at the crease where your thighs meet your ass as he adjusts his hips beneath you, “Need me to do the work now?”

The teasing in his voice has your body going traitorously pliant, your voice weak when it finally comes, “Please.”

“I got you,” Stiles promises, taking a little pity. He drags one hand toward the center of your spine while the other falls to the outside of your knee to hold you steady, “I got you..”

The first thrust up into you has you crying out. Not hitting nearly as deep as before, but he's driving in so much harder, so much faster. It pulls whiny little gasps from your lips with each thrust and your jaw's gone slack where it's buried in his neck as his skin slaps against yours with every snap of his hips. The sound of it is loud, and the combination of noises both lewd and salacious only proves to turn you on that much more.

“Shit.” Stiles grunts, voice a little hoarse and yet somehow high as it catches in his throat, “You make the prettiest noises, baby. Fuck. Just listen t' you.”

You don't entirely mean for it, but your next moan is just a little louder in response, unabashed and desperate even as you attempt to muffle the sound of it in the curve of his shoulder. The pitch his voice has taken is one that you only get to hear when he's getting unbearably close to his own peak. The sound of it is so, so sweet to your ears, mingling with the obscenely wet glide of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“'M gonna come,” He warns, his hips jerking just a bit rougher, a bit less coordinated as he fucks up into you, “Shit. Shit, sweetheart, 'm.. gonna.. come-”

His arms curl and lock around your waist as he does, dragging you down against him and burying himself so deep that it has you crying out again, fingers digging into his shoulders where your arms have curled under his to hold tight. He comes with a moan and a grunt that both get muffled with the way his face is now hidden in your hair, his cock kicking up inside you as he releases into the condom.

The increased stimulation against your sensitive walls has you going a little teary in the best way, overwhelmed but loving every moment of it, and you roll your hips over him despite the soreness in your thighs just to hear the way he groans in response.

You pull back just enough to lock your fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him into a sweet kiss, it's warm and a little sweaty as your lips slide together but it's also so full of unspoken thanks and emotion and undeclared love.

When you lean back again to collectively catch your breath, his thumb finds your wet eyelashes and swipes at them gently.

“Oh- hey, you good?” He checks with concern, his free hand already at your waist and drawing soft patterns along your skin, “You okay?”

You turn your head into the hand on your cheek and press a kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at his scalp beneath sweat-dampened locks, “I'm good,” You promise, “Gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow though, God.”

A smirk finds its way onto his face, “Fucked you so good you're gonna have trouble walkin', huh?”

“Shut up,” You huff, a laugh slipping out in contradiction to your weak display of annoyance, “But with the way my thighs feel right now? Yeah.”

You wince as you push up onto your knees, both from the ache left behind as he slips out and from the soreness in your legs. When you rise up a little higher, your head hits the roof with a painful thump and you can't bite back a curse.

Stiles is quick to bring a hand up to the back of your head with a sympathetic wince, cradling the tender spot on your skull softly, “Oh, shit, y'alright?”

“Ow,” You respond with a pout, your own hand reaching back to cover his over your hair, “Stupid Jeep n' stupid metal roof..”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns, “Don't blame the Jeep, alright? It's not Roscoe's fault you bumped your head.”

“Is too.”

It comes out in a huff and Stiles chuckles in amusement at your disgruntled expression as he slips his hands under your thighs to help you dismount from his lap completely. You fall into the seat beside him and drop your calves over his knees, bumping your forehead against his shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude.

After a few long minutes wrapped up in each other as you collect yourselves, you both gather your haphazardly discarded clothing and redress. Stiles digs out a new air freshener from the glove compartment and adds it to the hoard of them already hanging from the rearview mirror. Another little tree to the collection, this one a pretty shade of purple and smelling of berries, dropping to sit right atop number of similarly shaped scented hangers in a wide array of colors.

And later, when you're forced to part ways, you push up onto your toes as you lean back in through the driver's side window of the Jeep for one final kiss. The breeze is cool against your thighs as it catches beneath your skirt, goosebumps causing you to tighten your fingers around the window frame as you prepare to lean back. Stiles has a hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you in place at the first sign that you're about to pull away, stretching the kiss out for as long as he can get away with. It's a sickly sweet press of lips. One that will hopefully be enough to hold you over until you get the chance to have him like this again.

A glance over your shoulder as you walk away has your gaze meeting Stiles one last time, elation and melancholy both pulling at the edges of your lips until you're left with a saccarine smile to pair with your tiny wave goodbye. Your fingers come up to brush your lips as you begin to turn away, and when you extend your hand in his direction Stiles nearly throws himself out the open window to catch the invisible kiss that you've sent his way. His unnecessary enthusiasm has you stifling a giggle as you finally turn your back to him and make your way down the street.

You're forced to jog around the block from where Stiles has dropped you a safe distance from your house, hopping into the shower the moment you get home to wash away any and all evidence of the afternoon from your skin.

It's with skin scrubbed clean and a heavy heart that you head to the washing machine and dump your clothes inside to extinguish the lingering smell of Stiles that you know clings to the fabric, of you and Stiles, together.

And when Scott pauses the load mid-wash with the intention of throwing a shirt in, your brother is sure to complain about the way you've pointedly used the scented detergent — the overpowering artificial smell of lavender much too strong an irritant to his overly-sensitive, supernatural, wolfy nose — But, you remind yourself, if you want to keep up this thing with Stiles, which you desperately do, then that's just how this has to go, because, well.

𝐒 𝐜 𝐨 𝐭 𝐭 𝐲 𝐃 𝐨 𝐞 𝐬 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐊 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 .

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 — 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬.

Omf help the Wally smut is just perfect.

Imagine like Wally and reader finding aphrodisiac chocolate or something from an alive football player falling out of the pocket. Wally doesn’t know what it is so he eats it and

Oh well. Wally Clark experiencing aphrodisiac for the first time with mind blowing sex, pussy eating and cock blowing omg

Hello dear anon! So I had to do a little research thought this was like a sex pollen request and I'm not in the mood for sex pollen right now lmao. I did do some research on the chocolate itself and decided to spice it up a bit for storytelling purposes. I hope you like this delightfully naughty oneshot, I definitely got a bit carried away with it.

*Not My Gif*

Another game where the Split River Bandits demolished their rivals and Wally was cheering like they had just won the Superbowl on the field with the players. You smiled down at him as he waved at you excitedly, you waved back and watched as Wally ran up the stairs of the bleachers; a giant smile on his face.

"Did you see that baby?" He said excitedly, grabbing hold of the lapels of his letterman jacket you were wearing and bringing you close to his body and pressed a sweet kiss against your lips.

"I did!" You smiled back.

"Wow! What a game! That kid Patricks could totally go pro! He ran that ball in, all the way from the forty yard line. And did you see that interception?"

You felt a small pang in your heart, thinking about Wally's very short football career, and how far he could've gone had he not died on the field that night. "I did! It was amazing! They did good tonight." You smiled, pressing another kiss to Wally's lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to his body and deepening the kiss. His tongue slipping past and intermingling with yours, before you lightly pressed against his chest, pushing him away.

"Easy there, Tiger." You said, looking around to see if the rest of the ghosts were watching.

Wally smirked, before he pressed a quick kiss to your nose. "Going to go celebrate with the team and meet up with you later, baby."

"Okay." You giggled. "Have fun!" You shouted as you watched him climb back down the stairs of the bleachers, hooting and hollering with the rest of the team as they made their way into the locker room.

Wally loved celebrating with the players, even if they couldn't see him, he was jumping up and down with them enjoying the adrenaline rush of winning the last game of the season. He looked around at the faces of the people he'd known for the past four years, and wondered what the future held for this bunch and what the next group would bring to the table.

As the group changed out of their gear and into their jerseys to go celebrate the last win of the season off campus, Wally followed the group out as they left the locker room, Patricks was the last to leave. Hurriedly grabbing his backpack, he didn't notice it was open and Wally watched as something fell out of the front pocket.

"Hey man." Wally tried in vain, to get the player's attention, and just sighed picking up the little pink item, turning it over in his hands and seeing it was chocolate. "Oh sweet!" Wally opened up the chocolate bar and saw the three little squares wrapped in gold foiling.

"Oo fancy chocolate." Each square had a little symbol on the front of the square. Wally squinted trying to make them out.

"Is that a peach? Does that mean it's peach flavored? Hmm." He said unwrapping the peach chocolate and popped the entire square in his mouth. "Okay definitely not peach. Cherry flavored? Interesting. I wonder what the raindrop one tastes like." Wally pocketed the rest of the chocolate and went off to find you.

.....

You made your way back to your little spot tucked away in the school that you and Wally had claimed as your own. You knew Wally loved hanging out with the team for a while after a big win, so you went and hung out with Charley and Rhonda before making your way back.

When you got back to where Wally was, you saw him lounging shirtless on the mats that made up your bed/lounging area.

Wally's head immediately snapped in your direction as you entered the room. "Hey baby." Wally said, his voice sounding a bit gruff, as he got up from the mats and made his way over to you.

"Hey Wally." You smiled brightly. "How was the after part-" You were cut off briskly as Wally grabbed your hips and pulled you flush to him.

Your eyes widened but not only from the forceful sensation of Wally's tongue immediately slipping into mouth, his tongue dominating over yours and sucking on it. But also because when he pulled you close to him, you could feel his hard cock pressed against your stomach as it strained against his soft sweatpants.

"Wally." You moaned. Feeling his large hands, snake down your back and cupped your ass. Trying to bring you impossibly closer to his body than you already were, and you swore you could feel him buck his hips just the smallest amount against you. "What's gotten into you?" You grunted, trying to push him away but could only manage to break the kiss.

"I just missed you baby, that's all." He whispered, nuzzling your neck, placing soft kisses in the spot that he knows drives you wild.

"I was only gone for like an hour." You giggled, and then grunted as you felt him sucking on your sweet spot. "There's no way you could miss me this much after an hour." You stated firmly, pushing him harder and finally getting him to detach from your neck, holding him at arm's length.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "There's no way I've been gone for that long, that you could be this horny."

"What can I say? You drive me absolutely crazy." He purred, leaning closer to nuzzle at your neck. "Do you wanna feel how much you drive me crazy?" He said reaching for your hand and pulling it towards the waistband of his sweats.

"Wally!" You said pulling your hand back, and taking a step away from Wally.

Wally didn't miss a beat, as he took a step towards you, arms reaching. "Mmm. I love it when you say my name. I like it even better when you scream it when your sweet pussy is full of my cock."

"Okay!" You said putting your hands up and turning you back to Wally. "Someone had booze or drugs and you decided to indulge. I don't blame you but good lord this is -" Wally cut you off again as he grabbed you and snaked his arms around your middle, pulling you against his body.

He was impossibly hot to the touch.

"No drugs. No booze. I just have this desperate need to feel you cum all over my fingers, baby" He said and you watched as he gruffly shoved his hand inside your jeans, and began palming your sex.

"There's my girl. So wet for me already."

You gasped, as he slid two of his fingers inside your hot pussy, pumping them slowly into you. While his thumb traced small circles against your clit.

You couldn't help but jerk your hips into his hand, your head falling back into the crook of his shoulder as you could feel yourself growing wetter at Wally's touches.

"Wally." You whimpered. "What's gotten into you?"

He hummed against your neck, his nose dragging up and down your neck, inhaling your scent; as his fingers continued to lazily pump into you. "Nothings gotten into me, but I hope to be buried inside you tonight, baby." He growled punctuating his statement by pressing you harder against him so you can feel his cock straining against the small of your back.

You felt your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as you felt Wally's soft lips, brush against your neck. "God baby, you just drive me crazy." He whispered, before sucking harshly on the spot where your collarbone and neck met.

Causing you to buck your hips into his hands, as his fingers drove into you faster, your release just on the edge.

"Wally!" you moaned out and grabbed onto Wally's biceps, his presence a constant reminder that you weren't going to drown as your orgasm crashed over you, seeming to take the very breath from your body.

Wally pulled his fingers out of your pants and you watched as he put them in his mouth. You felt yourself growing hot again as Wally moaned around his fingers, tasting your release.

"Baby." He moaned. "I could just eat you up."

Before you could even react, Wally grabbed your waist and threw you over his shoulders and carried you back the two feet to the mats that were spread out on the floor. Laying you down, he immediately went after the tops of your jeans.

"These need to come off now." He growled, his large hands roughly yanking your jeans down your legs. You watched with trepidation as Wally took in the sight of you.

"Wally." You whispered, as Wally's hands reached for you again, his hands felt scorching against your legs as he traced them slowly up your legs, to play with the hem of your panties. "Wally." you whispered his name again, this time getting his attention. His dark brown eyes met with yours, making your heart jump.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and felt your cheeks heat. "What about you?" You said in an impossibly soft voice, but he heard it nonetheless.

"Trust me baby." He said taking your legs in his hands, so your knees were bent and pushed together as he rolled you to place a kiss on both sides of your hip. "Everything that's going to happen tonight is going to be purely selfish."

You let out a gasp as Wally suddenly flipped you over and grabbed your waist so your ass was in the air. You braced the weight of your upper body on your forearms, as Wally's hands traced down your back, playing with the hem of your panties again before pulling them down, leaving them pooled around your knees.

Wally had never felt like this before, he didn't know what was in that chocolate but he felt like his skin was on fire, and you were the tall drink of water he couldn't wait to guzzle down.

"Did you really think that sucking you off my fingers was going to be enough for me? I'll never get enough of you honey. Enough of your body." He breathed, kissing the small of your back. "Enough of your soft little moans." He said as he kissed the top of one of your ass cheeks, before biting it softly and doing the same to the other. "Enough of your sweet taste." He whispered before notching his leg in between yours and pushing your legs apart more, so he could nestle himself in between your legs comfortably. His hands grabbed your hips and brought your body back to his awaiting tongue.

You let out a loud moan, dropping your head to the mats under you, as you felt Wally's tongue dive into your hot center. He'd eaten you out a couple of times before, but this time was different, he'd never done something like this.

His tongue felt deeper, as it slid in and out of you, before finding your clit, and eliciting a groan from you as he sucked and flicked the swollen bud with the tip of his tongue. His nose nudged your tight hole, as he spread you wider for him. He ran his tongue back down the length of your folds and started to fuck you with his tongue again.

"Fuck baby. You always taste so sweet for me." He moaned against your skin, his hand running up the length of your back, keeping you arched into his mouth perfectly. "I could do this forever, keep you here like this for me. Maybe I could tie you up next time, and you'd never get away from me or my tongue." He chuckled, the image of you tied and whimpering as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you making him even harder than he already was.

Oh yeah Wally Clark was definitely into overstimulation kink.

You let out a sharp gasp, as you felt Wally reached around with his hand and start rubbing your clit, as he started to fuck you with his tongue again and you knew you were close.

"Wally." You moaned, pushing your ass closer to his face. He hummed against you, his finger moving faster as you felt your orgasm build to a height you didn't think you could survive from.

"Wally." You moaned out again, feeling desperate as you clawed your nails into the mat, searching for an anchor to keep you sane. And in the next moment your orgasm violently ripped out of you, causing you to scream.

You felt Wally hold onto you, knowing that you'd tried to get away from the pleasure he was pulling from your body, as he continued to eat you out slowly through your orgasm.

He left you feeling boneless, as he lavished your sensitive pussy with kisses, lapping up your release. While your face was pressed into the mat, having no energy to even lift your head let alone pull away from Wally.

When Wally finally pulled his face away from your pussy, he was grinning ear to ear. "Best snack of the day." He chuckled. "Much better than that chocolate from earlier."

"What chocolate?" You asked through the haze of your orgasm.

"It's nothing baby." He purred as he traced his hand down your back as you heard the tell tell sound of his sweats being pulled down. "I'll share some with you later." He smiled before pushing himself into your tight wet pussy.

Tonight was going to be a long night

Death Star - Ben Plunkett

all dividers cred: @cafekitsune

Pair: Ben Plunkett x fem!reader

Description: When Y/N and Ben entered senior year, they were optimistic. For Y/N, it was one last year to survive and then she was free. But for Ben, this was his last opportunity to make a name for himself. His goals were clear; get accepted into any college, ask his dream girl to prom, and become prom king. Y/N's goals weren't so simple, considering the only person she could see herself going to prom with is head over heels for LaToya Reynolds. Y/N is seemingly forgotten once Ben prom-poses to LaToya and can't seem to get a moment of his time anymore. When prom rolls around, Ben and Y/N are forced to confront the new space between them.

Warnings: fairly angsty, mostly fluffy, swearing, arguing and making up, overbearing mom <3

WC: 1.9k

A/N: Don't you love it when it takes you months to get the motivation to start writing again and then it doesn't live up to your standards? 😃😮‍💨

ben plunkett masterlist × main masterlist

"Breathe in...breathe out..." Y/N held her breath in sync with the audio. She was currently going for the record for the longest headache held in 24 hours. She had tried everything. Hydrating, taking a nap, taking a shower, and now, meditation. It was her mother who had sparked the throbbing pain pounding against her cranium. Of course, Y/N had brought this upon herself in a way. Telling her mother, who was prom queen back in her day, that she no longer wanted to attend the prom was her first mistake. Her second mistake was not sprinting out of the house the minute those words fell from her lips. Even if she had somehow escaped the conversation, she had no where to go. Her best friend, whom she had been avoiding most desperately, wasn't someone she could talk to anymore. Not since the prom-posal. Since Ben Plunkett, the man she had been pining after since they were 13, had asked LaToya Reynolds, the woman he'd been pining after since they were 14, to prom, she had become a ghost to him. Not a single text was returned until at least 3 days after it was sent, no more midnight phone calls, no more snack runs, no more bookstore, movies, waffles, and no more death star.

Something shifted the last time they spoke. It was a quick phone call, curt and nothing special. It was a Friday night, he was apologizing for ditching their plans. It was a tradition they had, the bookstore-movies-waffles thing they did every Friday night. Even before either of them could drive or knew anything about quality cinema. It was theirs and only theirs until it wasn't. His apology was absentminded and rushed, she could hear LaToya in the background telling him to hurry up. The call ended after about 2 minutes, cutting her protests short and gripping her in the stomach with a sharp pain she didn't recognize. After that night, Ben made no effort to return her calls or even talk to her in school. He sat with the Everests and waited on LaToya hand and foot. She wasn't sure what hurt more, the fact that she lost her best friend or that he didn't even seem upset about it. She was torn apart, throat becoming bone-dry every time she saw them together, her heart racing in her ears from both frustration and embarrassment.

Her mother had insisted that she reconsider her decision but Y/N stood firm. Even Mandy begged her to go with her and Graham but there was no swaying her. She was sick at the idea of attending prom or being anywhere near Ben or anyone else for that matter. So here she was, the night before prom, with no dress, no date, and no appetite. She chewed her lips and willed the headache away (or prayed to be put out of her misery). When she and Ben were younger, they would talk about how they were on the same wavelength. That somehow their thoughts were linked, telepathically or spiritually. They knew when one needed the other. Now, Y/N was sure that idea was nothing but a childish notion. She turned her head to the side to examine her bedroom, littered with memories and moments she wanted so badly to go back to. She stood up and felt lightheaded from a combination of crying and basically not moving all day. It was the last Friday she had before graduation next week and she was spending it reminiscing.

She walked over to her nightstand where there stood a gigantic Lego Death Star, unfinished. She and Ben had planned on finishing it before the school year ended. She picked it up carefully and took in every detail, it had taken them the last year to get as close as they were now. They had decided not to glue the pieces down in case they ever wanted to start over, she smiled down at their efforts and, just for a second, allowed herself to miss Ben. That's when she heard her doorbell ring, her mother was always very quick to invite her friends over and allow them to grace her daughter with their sage advice which often consisted of them telling Y/N how much she was breaking her mother's heart over a seemingly meaningless argument or difference in opinion. She heard the creak of the stairs, placing the death star back on her nightstand and moving to open the door. Ben beat her to it and slowly popped his head into the room. The silence was deafening.

Ben walked fully into the room and shut the door behind him. The lump in her throat was impossible to swallow, anything she had to say to him was gone now. So he cleared his throat and decided he would start. "I'm sorry." He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "I probably should've called. I just..." Y/N maintained eye contact, begging him to make this right. "This is weird right?" She nodded and patted the bed, urging him to sit next to her. He trudged over and sat down, sighing. "I know...I fucked up." There's a pause, a comfortable silence. "I don't why but...I broke it off with LaToya." She finally met his eyes. "You did what? Why? What happened?" He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. "Is she okay?" He nodded, avoiding eye contact. "She took it surprisingly well. In her words she 'saw it coming' and that I 'needed to see you.' She's actually pretty great." Her face became red, she didn't know what to say or how to react. "But the whole time I was with her, something was so off." I held a bubble in my mouth. "She had hot breath? Bad kisser? Glass eye?" He finally laughed. "Not exactly. Everything about her was great." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"So what was it?" He finally turned to her, fully facing her and smiling like a dork. "Guess." He said softly. It was then that Y/N realized just how close they were. "Did she...have bad taste in music?" The air was buzzing, something was pulling them towards each other. "No." His hands were clammy. He had known immediately what LaToya meant when she said that he needed to Y/N. Every date, every kiss, he was somewhere else. His heart wasn't in it, not because of LaToya, but because of Y/N. But how could he be so stupid? He finally had exactly what he wanted, the girl he'd been infatuated with for years, and he couldn't have been more unhappy. "Did she...chew with her mouth open?" Ben shook his head and smiled knowingly. "Not really." He replied, coming to the conclusion that she wasn't gonna get it. Little did he know, she had butterflies from the anticipation. She wanted desperately for him to tell her why he was here with her rather than with LaToya. LaToya knew why, she had known about a week into dating Ben. The reason they weren't together was because of her. LaToya wasn't mad, she wasn't upset, she was understanding, which only made Ben feel like a bigger dick for not giving her what she deserved.

"I give up. Tell me. What was it?" He wiped his hands on his pants and looked nervous. "She wasn't you." He said, voice shaky. Y/N stayed quiet, but a smile played on her lips. "What?" Her face was on fire, she wasn't sure how to speak anymore. Ben wasn't sure what to say next. They sat there in silence, a weight in the room, a pressure for someone to do something, say something. Ben wanted so badly for her to respond or react in some way, even if it was negative. Y/N felt nervousness fill her chest. "She didn't make me laugh, or make me nervous. There was no... spark. Do you ever-" He cut himself off by rubbing his eyes in frustration. He was struggling to express what he had felt, what words could he use? "I thought I knew what I wanted." Y/N was seeing stars. Ben was wringing his hands in concern. Never, in any conversation they'd ever had, had she been so quiet. "Do you?" She finally spoke, "Know what you want?" All they could do was look at each other. All it took was one look to his lips from Y/N and Ben crumbled.

His hand held her cheek, leaning in to place a sweet, short kiss on her lips. When their lips connected, Y/N remembered the first time she had held his hand. They had decided to go see a horror movie with a murderous clown and cheap jump scares. One jump scare in specific got her and, out of fear (and maybe something else), she had grabbed Ben's wrist to ground herself. She recalled how he laughed at her and grabbed her hand, locking fingers with hers. For him, it was probably nothing. But for her, it was the start of something so much more. Although the the interaction was short, Ben had always wondered about that night in the theater. Did she mean to grab him? His thoughts always raced when he thought about their little touches like that. When she laughed, she'd lean against him and grab his arm (he made sure to make her laugh every chance he got). When she was bored, she'd lean her head against his shoulder or wrap her arms around his neck. Until this moment, he always figured her touches were strictly platonic. He never thought about the possibility that there was more behind each look. Her lips tasted like cotton candy against his. When he felt her return the kiss, his lips curled into a smile.

Though the kiss was short, their palms were sweaty and heads were spinning. As Ben parted from the kiss, he was stuck in place and grinning like an idiot. Y/N couldn't look at him, he looked so goofy. She burst into laughter and laid her head on his chest, trying her best to suppress her fits of snorts. Ben fell back on the bed in bliss, there was no overthinking this part. He quickly got up and grabbed his backpack. Y/N looked at him, red from the laughs and head pounding from a mix of blush and shock. He unzipped his bag and pulled out a piece of paper and a red marker. He placed the paper on her desk and began to write. "What are you doing?" Ben always had random moments of genius, but he considered this to be his best idea yet. When he was done scribbling away on his paper, he held up on display for Y/N to read. There, in red ink, read the word 'Prom?' in bold letters with little red hearts all around it. She examined the paper and beamed, "Yes..." Ben fisted pumped the air and tackled her in a hug, slamming them both onto her bed. "Wait!" Y/N quickly sat up in the bed. "What?" The boy shot up next to her. "What am I gonna wear?" Just then, her mother barged in with a puffy pink and purple dress, perfect for the 80's theme, and a cheesy smile on her face. "Already covered!!"