Okay so 95% of what I read on here is Wally Clark fan fiction, I do however, read others (they just so happen to be other Milo Manheim characters, what can I say the man does something to me🤭😜) and thought I would share my favourites. I will update every so often when I can.
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.
to celebrate thanksgiving finally streaming, take this idea that’s been rotting in my head for weeks since i saw this ad.
warnings: 18+, explicit language, suggestive conversation, afab!reader, unprotected sex ( please don’t do this? ), smut!, pnv, my literal first time writing smut be nice to me or else.
your eyes lit up the second it came across your tiktok for you page, you knew ryan would question the charge on his card from a website other than your usual haunts but explaining it away as a small business you found on your explore page seemed to be good enough for him.
you were known all over your campus for your fashion sense, your 2000’s inspired outfits drawing the attention of everyone you passed by, more specifically the ‘whale tail’ that was never missing from an outfit, the strings of your usually neon coloured thongs peeking above the waistband of your low rise jeans.
today was no different, your low rise jeans and white baby-tee, the neon pink strings high on your hips with the custom sparkly letter charms adorning the back; ryan.
“hey, baby” ryan greeted with a smile, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips after spotting you from across the courtyard, blissfully unaware of what everyone was double taking to read.
“hi” you giggled against his lips, pressing another quick kiss to them before pulling away “you got class?”
different degrees, same campus. it was actually how you’d met ryan, some sorority party during your first semester.
“not for another hour..” his voice trailed off, eyes looking past you at the pair of girls that had pointed at your back “turn around for me, baby. think you got something on you..”
you play dumb, turning your back to him and looking over your shoulder. you revel in the look on his face, how his eyes can’t look away from your ass, how his eyebrows have raised and his mouth is agape, and how he tries to subtly adjust himself in his jeans but fails miserably.
“is there something there?” you ask, like you don’t know exactly what it is he’s staring at.
there’s a second of silence, ryan’s brain short circuiting as he struggles to catch up with the real world continuing around him. he shakes his head before grabbing your arm, leading you towards the library without a word and ushering you into the bathroom.
“ryan, i have a class” you giggle, making no attempt to stop him when he pushes you against the door and latches his mouth to your neck.
“don’t care,” he mumbles against your skin, a hand creeping under the fabric of your shirt and towards your breasts, groaning when he realises you aren’t wearing a bra “fuck, baby, think this is the hottest thing i’ve ever fucking seen.”
his free hand slips a finger around the band of the thong, pulling it away from your body and releasing it with a snap. ryan’s mouth swallows your gasp as its back on yours, kissing you roughly like he’s trying to consume you entirely.
your hand trails down to the waistband of his own jeans, feeling his hard on pressing against your lower stomach as he presses you against the door, his tongue roaming around the inside of your mouth.
“easy, baby.” ryan chuckles, pulling your hand away with his own. in a fluid movement he has you bent over the bathroom sink, reaching round to unbutton your jeans and shove them down your legs “don’t remember putting you in charge.” his middle and ring fingers tease your clit through the bright pink fabric, watching your reaction in the mirror as your mouth falls open in a silent moan.
ryan applies a little more pressure, rubbing slow circles as his free hand frees his cock from his jeans and teasingly runs it back and fourth along your folds.
“quick teasing,” you huff, hooking your thumbs around the band of your underwear to remove them when ryan lands a light slap to your clit in warning.
“these stay,” he speaks matter of factly, moving the fabric to the side and groaning as he pushes into you “wanna see my name every time i look down at my cock filling you up, princess.”
I jolt awake, gasping for air as I sit up in my bed. A dream; just another stupid dream. I catch my breath and scan my eyes across the room, the only thing lighting up the room is the moon peering through my window and the little nightlight in the wall. As I scan the room, I see that my bedroom door and closet door are both open. I always leave the closet open, but I just can’t seem the shake the darkness seeping out of it tonight. Ryan must’ve gone to the bathroom after I fell asleep, yeah, that’s why my bedroom door is hanging open.
I sigh, slowly sliding out of the bed so I don’t wake Ryan, stepping toward my closet and flipping the light on. Nothing. There’s nothing, obviously. Just shoes and clothes and boxes. All things that belong in a closet. No John Carver.
I flick the light off and close the closet door, stepping over to my bedroom door to close and lock it. But I can hear Ryan shuffling in bed as I do so, and I know I’ve woken him up. Again.
“Hey, you okay?” He mumbles, voice groggy with sleep. I lock the door and turn around, going track to join him in the bed. “Yeah, just had a bad dream.” I whisper, crawling back into bed as he holds up the blankets for me to snuggle under.
Ryan tucks me into the blankets, then wrapping his arm around me to hold me close. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” He says, and I can feel his lips move against my forehead. I sigh, cuddling a little closer, if even possible.
“Because I always wake you up. You never get sleep with me anymore.” I say, and it’s true. I’ve felt so bad about having him come over to spend the night with me, or asking if I can spend the night at his place. The nightmares are constant. They never go away. And I can’t help but feel like it’s taking a tole on him just as much as it is me.
He hums, his hand slinking up my tank top to scratch my back, something he knows calms me down, something that’ll help me fall back asleep. “I get plenty of sleep, baby. Don’t gotta worry about me.” He mumbles, and his response is enough to ease my conscience for now.
I lie awake in his arms for a little longer, I think it’s because I’m waiting for the sound of a door opening or glass breaking, but it never comes. So I finally let my heavy lids drop, and I try to get some sleep. Until tomorrow night, when I have to do this all over again.
