It Gives Fuck Boy, But Like Not At The Same Time

Okay it was the tiniest bit funny when all of the ghosts were having their makeout sessions and hookups with their respective partners to atmospheric romantic music for like ten minutes only for it to cut to, at the exact same time, the living kids panicking and screaming trying to find Janet in the middle of the dark woods as she escapes from being kidnapped by a possessed evil scientist by attempting to murder him

Me reading this

Hot For You

summary: prompt fill. Wally is horny as fuck and can't keep his hands out of his pants. who are you not to help a friend in need? (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. flashfic. masturbation. pre-canon. accidental interruption. very mild daddy kink.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🫦

Hot For You

It's your fault, Wally thinks, fucking hand down his pants, fondling himself as he remembers what you were wearing. Those teeny tiny little gym shorts, t-shirt snug to your body—knotted at the front, a strip of smooth skin on display—those knee-high socks that give the impression of schoolgirl innocence when Wally knows (he fucking knows) you're anything but.

He's hidden away in the Home Ec. room, the school empty on Friday afternoon, but he thought he had football practice, so there he is. And then he'd seen you come out of the girls' locker room, ready to volleyball, chatting and giggling to Sarah Miller as you winked at him on your way by.

He watched your hips sway, your ass cheeks flex—one two, one two, one two—as you walked down the hall.

Wally was hard in seconds. So quick his vision spotted.

He made himself scarce as soon as Rodney informed him that practice was cancelled. Booked it to the first place he could think of for privacy. The Home Ec. room is at the back of the school. Second floor. No one goes near that area, especially on a Friday.

Except maybe the janitor, but Wally can't think straight enough to give a shit. Using spit for lube, he strokes himself slowly. He should probably hurry it up, but he can't bring himself to fast-forward through the fantasy.

You looked so good. Fucking edible. What Wally wouldn't give to sink his teeth into you and make you his. Sadly, you don't seem interested, always coy, but aloof. Flirting until you've had your fill and then walking away to leave Wally panting and hard in your wake. Tease.

He groans as he pictures you, those sweet tits out for him, your hands rubbing and caressing them, showing him how you like to be touched. His grip tightens at the tip, his thumb smooths other the slit, collecting pre and slicking his hand back down the length of his cock.

Wally spreads his legs wider and sinks deeper into the chair. Fuck, you'd look so good in his lap. He groans. Face hot. Lips parted. Eyes clenched shut so he can watch the show unfold in his brain. He bets your pussy would be his favorite. Pink and glistening for him. Sweet as honey and sloppy when he fucks you.

Oh God. His head falls back as he releases a moan. Too loud. He doesn't care. You're so fucking hot. And he'd take such good care of you, baby; make sure you come at least twice before he spills inside you. Gets you nice and bloated with his come.

"Fuck, baby," He hisses, hand moving a little faster, though he's still taking his time. Focused on stripping the head, other hand cupping his balls. Shit. Fuck.

"Wally?"

Jesus, no.

Wally's hand stills, but he doesn't remove it. Doesn't even have the wherewithal to think about how he looks and how he should probably change that image. His eyes widen and he gulps, staring at you in pure horror.

And then he notices. You don't look shocked or disgusted or embarrassed.

You bite your lip, closing the door and locking it behind you—God, had he really been that dumb to forget to do that? You take slow steps forward, hips swaying, gaze locked on where he's holding himself. Where he's flushed and hard. Just for you, not that you know that.

He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. Slides his hand down to grip the base of his cock, shamelessly showing off what could be yours if you ask nicely as he leans back in the chair with a cocky smirk.

He watches as you step right up to him and then grin. Sultry and Cheshire. You plant your feet on either side of his legs, your hips hovering over his, and, in one sensual motion, you peel off your top.

Wally's brain explodes.

"Need some help?" You purr, taking a seat in his lap like you've done it a thousand times.

He pulls in a shaky breath, his eyes falling to your lips, "You gonna give me a hand?"

Your grin turns wicked. Leaning in to whisper in his ear, "I was thinking something else. If you want it."

Yes, he fucking does.

In an instant, he has his hands on your ass, his mouth on yours, tongue down your throat as he stands and walks you to one of the tables. Drops you hard and shoves you back with his body, his lips never leaving yours.

His fingers hook into those teeny tiny shorts, and he drags them down your legs and off. Tosses them somewhere for you to find later because, right now, he needs to see all of you.

You moan, the sound making him dizzy, and wrap your legs around his waist as soon as he's back on you, pinning your wrists to the table as he humps his cock against your hot pussy. Fuck, you're wet for him, slickening him up so good he can't think beyond it.

"So fucking hot, baby," He groans, releasing your wrists long enough to strip off his shirt. Then he's all over you, chest pressed to yours, skin to skin, the sensation so heady he has to take a second to breathe.

"Daddy~." You coo, and, shit, fuck, yeah, okay, he can get into that.

He grunts, "God," and bites your bottom lip, soothes it with his tongue before licking into your mouth again. "You want it, baby?" He asks, hips dragging in a slow stroke, pushing his cock between your folds.

"Please," You whimper, your eyes glazed and heavy, cheeks such a pretty pink that Wally thinks that's his new favorite color.

Leaning in to nip your ear, he whispers a dark, promising, "Gonna be my good girl? Gonna take all of me?" And he grinds forward again, losing himself to the friction for a moment.

"I'll be so good for you, Daddy," You gasp, and he's done. Control snapped in half from the way you sound so greedy for him.

Part of him wonders if this is a dream. If he smacked his head somewhere along the way and he's in the best coma ever. But, it's real; your skin too soft, curves too perfect under his hand. He's got you under him for real, and he intends to take advantage of it. You know, since you're willing.

Wally lines himself up. One powerful thrust and he's completely enveloped in you, groaning in ecstasy as your pussy grips him nice and tight. Fuck. God. He could die now and have no regrets.

You struggle against the hold he has on your wrists, but he doesn't give in. Moves his hand to your throat instead as he starts moving. Beating his cock into you. Sharp. Hard. No time or patience to slow down. He wants and he's going to get.

"Fuck, you're so perfect, baby." He moans. "So good for Daddy. So fucking hot." He watches your tits bounce with every thrust, nipples so pretty he needs a taste. His tongue flicks one, his teeth close around it, and then he's suckling with a hot groan. "So fucking perfect," His breath on your wet skin raises goosebumps.

Wally's mind has melted, lost totally to his lust. An animal for you, on you, in you, fucking your pussy so hard the sound bounces off the walls in the quiet space. He feels you tremble beneath him, your throat convulsing under his hand when you swallow or whimper or sigh. He tightens his grip slightly, keeping you there.

"Gonna make me come so fucking hard, baby," He pants, hips wild, he's never felt anything this good in his life, Christ, he can't get enough. "Do you want it? You want Daddy to fill you up?"

You arch your back and keen.

He takes that as a resounding 'yes' and picks up the pace, wanting desperately to paint your fucking insides with his come. To make you his.

Pounding into you, five, six, more times and you tense, pussy clenching around him, your voice weak and raspy when you tell him you're coming, and, hell yeah, he can feel it. His eyes roll back, his brain short-circuits, and then, holy fuck, he's coming, heat punching out of him like a freight train.

He grunts, hitches his hips, grinds into you as he spills everything he's got into you, pussy squelching as some of it leaks out around his cock. He knew he was pent-up, he just didn't realize how bad until the wave breaks and he collapses forward, barely catching himself before he crushes you under his weight.

You and he lay there in silence as the afterglow creeps in. Soft and vulnerable and perfect, just like Wally knew it would be. He lifts himself up on one arm and gazes down at you with a crooked smile.

"Hey," He says, belated and cheeky.

You smile, "Hey."

Wally can't help the chuckle that escapes him. He's elated. Giddy. Got the girl of his dreams naked, his softening cock still buried deep, and he wants to shout from the rooftops how good you made him feel.

You stare up at him, sweet, gorgeous as Venus, "We should see if it's that good in a bed."

Wally's smile widens, and he nods, "Definitely."

But right now, he has plans to bend you over and fuck you against the counter before you ride him into the sunset on that chair over there.

After that, you and he can discuss whose bed you were suggesting.

🫦___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

Wally Clark x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Literally the whole plot is Wally gets his ass ate so do with that what you will. Readers a bit of an anxious bean. Unrealistic (because passion doesn't exist)

(Guys I've never written ass stuff 😭 I was trying to figure out what wording to use so it wouldn't sound repetitive. Sorry if it feels a little awkward.)

Wally’s never been shy when it comes to sex, always expressing his needs and deepest darkest desires but when you brought up a new topic, something he's never even thought about, it caught him off garde. You wanted to… Eat his ass? That was definitely a new one. 

It wasn't that he was opposed to the idea, it just wasn't expected. He couldn’t lie, the thought made him a little excited, your tongue working overtime, exploring places he never thought it would go. 

He watched you fiddle with the cuff of the sleeves of your (his) sweater, a nervous expression on your face as you awaited his answer. Your leg tapped in an anxious rhythm as you sat on the teachers lounge couch in front of him, his tall from standing over you. He sat down next to you, his hand sliding to your knee and rubbing slow circles into it with his thumb to calm you down. 

“I would let you do unimaginable things to me.” His voice came out smooth, not having to think about his words, saying them like a proven fact. Hopefully after tonight they will be.

"oh" You didn't know what to say, how to go about things. It was such a new topic, something you fantasized about but couldn't bring yourself to tell him about. Somehow, some way, you worked up the courage.

That's how you ended up here, Wally laid out in front of you, on his hands and knees, completely bare. Your fingers ran gently up the back of his thighs making him shiver slightly. Your inexperienced hands moved along his body clumsily, moving up to cup his ass cheeks. 

You heard Wally let out a nervous, anticipating, breath as you spread them open. With a shaky hand you let one of your fingers massage his puckered round of nerves. You heard him let out a quiet groan, letting you know that you're doing something right.

You bring your face down, gently licking his asshole, humming at the new, odd taste. Wally tensed as he took in a deep breath at the new sensation.

You took that as a sigh to keep going, tongue lapping until he turned into a pile of putty in front of you. Spit dripped all the way down and around to his balls. Your hand moved down, cupping them, making him let out a low groan.

It was filthy in the most beautiful way. Seeing Wally reduced to a groaning, moaning mess. His hands gripping the cushion under him for dear death. (I think I'm so funny)

Deep ragged breaths as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, gentle strokes to help bring him to the perfect place of ecstasy. Sweat dripped down the back of his knees, legs almost going numb.

You felt him tense up, taking a sharp breath before he let go. Thick, hot spurts of cum counting your hand and the couch. After a minute he sunk down, basking in the afterglow.

You crawled beside him, admiring his fucked out face as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

Tags of shame for the freaks that told me to write this: @whoopsyeahokay @strwbrry-phrog @schoolspiritsfan14 @preparedfruit

(but like not really a tag of shame because I love y'all 💞)

“Wally Clark class of ‘84 🫱” OKAYYY BUT WHY ARE MY CLOTHES OFF NOW

No because why did my mind immediately go “Have you ever tried this one?” when I saw this?! Like damn I’ve become unhinged and I don’t even mind it 😂😅

Tell me why I can’t think about anything else. Bro needs to start paying RENT for taking so much space in MY MIND

Just call me a ghost at Split River High because I’m deceased. HE’S SO FUCKING SEXY

MILO MANHEIM as ZED NECRODOPOLIS ↳ ZOMBIES 3 (2022)

Anxiety 2

summary: prompt fill. on the verge of an anxiety attack, Wally calls in reinforcements. you. the only person in the world who knows exactly what he needs. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. smut lite. flashfic. sub-adjacent!Wally Clark. mild anxiety attack. Wally Clark is a whiny lil' babe when he's desperate.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🍋‍🟩

Anxiety 2

"Hey, pretty boy, you okay?"

Thank fuck you answer on the first ring because, no, Wally isn't okay. His skin is too tight, his lungs won't inflate, he has pins and needles in his blood, and he can't calm down long enough to make his room stop spinning.

"No." It's wrenched out of him.

He lies on his bed, arm over his eyes, trying to breathe. Football practice was hell today, coach giving him a hard time for mistakes another player made like it's Wally's job to shoulder everyone's shortcomings.

"I can't...baby, I need to see you, please," And he knows it's a bad time, but, please, he just needs to feel you long enough to settle his brain for a minute.

Wally hates Tuesdays as much as he does most weekdays. School doesn't help, but you have Art Club and then family dinner and then a whole routine you enjoy mapped out for every Tuesday for forever. Your time. Not for anyone else. And, he swears, he wouldn't interrupt unless it's important.

He hears fabric rustle on the other end of the line before your voice filters through the speaker, "You need me to talk you through it?"

"No." He says, scratchy.

"Do you need me to distract you with a story?"

And he fucking whimpers, because that's not the answer either.

"Do you want me to just stay on the line and you can vent?"

"No, baby, I—" Don't want to tell you how desperate he is for your presence. Needs it like the oxygen he can't seem to suck into his lungs. "Never mind."

You make a noise of disapproval, "Oh, no, Wally, you're not doing that." Then, "Can you do something for me?"

Wally nods although he knows you can't see him.

"Can you get up and go to the bathroom?"

He does, following the order without resistance. He likes it when you order him around, take control so he doesn't have to think. He pads into the bathroom and stands there until you give him the next instruction.

"Good boy," You coo, and it sounds like you're outside now. He can't be sure, doesn't entirely have the capacity to pay attention, so he simply idles with the phone to his ear. "Turn on the water, Wally, nice and warm how you like it."

Again, he does as you order. He knows where this is going. A hot shower to calm his muscles. He sets his phone on the counter and strips. Doesn't hang up, needs to know you're there when he's done, but steps under the spray when steam starts to billow up.

It takes ten minutes before he's able to get out without black spots clouding his vision. His body is relaxed, but his head is still screaming at him to do something, keep busy, figure it out, don't just stand there—

He towels himself off, glances at the screen, and sighs in relief when he sees the call is still connected. In movements loose from a good shower, he lopes back to his room and pulls on a pair of clean boxers. Keeps his words to himself, not ready to talk yet, but makes sure you know he's still there and still needs you.

Just as he reaches for his sweatpants, he hears a knock at the front door. Blinking, he picks up his phone from his dresser to check the time.

Your voice through the phone, "You gonna let me in, cutie?"

Instantly, the remaining tension in his body releases. He hurries down the stairs two at a time, unsafe and unconcerned because you're there. Coming to the rescue. Showing up for him despite the meal he knows you're supposed to have with your parents in half an hour.

He swings the door open and yanks you into his body, holds you tight against his chest with his face in your neck.

"Thank you," He murmurs, tight, a little froggy.

Taking charge, you push him back inside and close the door behind you, grabbing his hand in yours to lead him back upstairs to his bedroom. Without so much as a hello, you get to work, shoving him into his desk chair while you set about changing his sheets.

No words are exchanged the whole time. He waits for you to finish, watches through desperate, puppysoft eyes, knee bouncing, as you strip to your underwear and t-shirt, and fold back the newly made cover.

You turn, smiling sweetly, give him a wink that signals he can get himself all over you now. He doesn't hesitate, crowds against your back when you turn around to face the bed, about to crawl in. He grabs you by the hips, pulls your ass back into the cradle of his pelvis, and has his lips on your neck so fast, it's like your skin is magnetized and his mouth is made of nickel.

"Silly boy," You breathe, melting into him, tilting your head to give him more access. "You couldn't wait until I got you into bed?"

Wally shakes his head against your neck, "Mm-mm," and continues to dot kisses along the tendon, all the way up to just below your ear. "Missed you too much," Even though he saw you right before football practice.

"Come on," You say, "Get in."

And he does as he's told. Pauses to let you climb in first, shuffle over to what he's designated as your side, under the covers and holding them up to invite him in beside you. He shuffles right into your space, arm fastened around your waist, head pillowed on your chest, breathing easier than he has in hours now that he can smell you, feel you, hear your heartbeat under his ear.

Your hand finds his hair, still damp from the shower. Fingers comb his scalp while you press little kisses along his hairline, forehead, temple. The last bit of anxiety dissipates under your attention, and finally, Wally can relax.

"You okay?" You whisper, hand stroking his back now.

He nods against you, nudges your jaw with his nose, silently requesting a kiss which you give him with a tender smile.

"You wanna have a nap?"

Wally thinks about it, realizes that, no, he isn't ready to sleep. Even for a short span, his brain isn't quiet enough. There's still a thread of restlessness under his skin he can't quite shake loose. He pouts at you, shakes his head, looking for all the world like a lost little boy who needs taking care of.

A knowing smile spreads on your face. You lean down and kiss him. Gentle. Soft. Innocent if Wally didn't know you better.

"Get on your back, baby," You tell him, already shifting.

He goes, breath hitching, cheeks heating, anticipating where you're going to go with this. You push his legs apart and settle between them, a gleam in your eye that ushers an almost soundless gasp from his throat. Hooking your fingers into his boxers, you peel them off his long legs and get back into position.

"You need me to take care of you?" You ask, serene, as if asking whether or not he wants a foot rub and not his cock sucked. "You want me to make your brain quiet, pretty boy?"

Wally nods, one, two curt movements, lips parting around a whimper as his eyes fall to half-mast. He watches you lick your lips, bow forward so beautifully that he wishes he could bottle an image, and then he feels you.

A long, wet stripe of your tongue along his flaccid cock before you take it in hand and lazily begin to stroke, your eyes intense and holding his.

Conversationally, "You want me to choke on you, baby?"

And, fuck. God. His mind short-circuits, goes totally offline for a moment that he doesn't even realize he answers with a punched-out, "Please."

"Lie down, baby, let me take care of you."

Then it's all hot, wet, tight. Sloppy at first, how he likes it. You use a firm grip to stroke in countermotion of your mouth, your tongue teasing the slit and the underside of his cockhead.

"Oh, fuck," He pants, legs spreading wider, the meat of his palms digging into his sockets as he tries not to come in under a minute. He wants to enjoy this, honest, but, fuck, you do that thing with your fist at the tip while sucking his balls and he can't fucking see.

You chuckle, sultry and smooth, then descend again, taking him in your throat and swallowing around him, moaning, kneading his inner thighs and massaging his balls gently with your thumbs until he starts choking out weak little sounds of pleasure.

"Oh God," He gasps wetly, "I'm gonna come, baby, oh fuck!"

But you don't let him, sliding off and rising to your knees. He whines, partially in frustration, partially desperation; both soon quelled when he feels the humid heat of your pussy hovering above him. You line him up, tease him through your folds.

"Want you to finish inside me, baby," You command, and then drop. Taking him in one swift movement that knocks a grunt right from his belly.

He clamps his hands on your hips and groans as you start to ride him, fast, not for your pleasure but his, giving him everything because you're amazing, oh God, you're perfect, so perfect, he can't—Jesus, he can't—oh fuck!

Wally comes with a strained sob of ecstasy, fingers digging into your flesh, eyes clenched shut, and head tipped back; cock pulsing inside you as he releases.

In the soft afterglow, he goes completely pliant, arms falling to his sides. He blinks up at you in awe, sleepy suddenly, brain emitting nothing but static. He gives you a lopsided smile that you return with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Pet his hair and roll to the side onto your back, encouraging him to cuddle into you like he was earlier.

Head on your chest again, he sighs in satisfaction, his leg hooked over your thighs as he clings to you like a limpet so you can't get away.

"Thank you, baby," He murmurs. "You're the best."

He hears you hum in acknowledgement. "You gonna nap for a bit now?"

He nods, trying to burrow deeper into your arms. The safest place in the world, he thinks, after how many times your embrace has saved him from himself.

"You want me to wake you up before I go?"

A noise of protest, his arm tightening around your waist.

You giggle, "You want me to sleep here tonight?"

He doesn't have to say anything for you to know his answer.

Not even a minute later, he's snoring softly, totally content and at peace with you in his bed.

🍋‍🟩___________fin.____________

Anxiety

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Simp..

a silly little subby Wally drabble because our clingy boo is fun to write.