18+ Warning

wally clark who keeps an extra hoodie in his locker for you, knowing you’ll steal it at some point later in the day.

wally clark who heard what flavor of chapstick you like and started wearing it so you tasted it every time you kissed him.

wally clark who runs to you after games and scoops you into his arms, pampering you with kisses and refusing to let you go.

wally clark who brags to all his buddies about you, saying “you wish you had someone as awesome as them”.

wally clark who shows you off every chance he gets, having you perched on his lap like a precious gem, lazy kisses to your shoulder while you talk.

wally clark who always has to have his hand on one part of your body. your hand, thigh, back, shoulder.

wally clark who buys you a necklace with his initial on it, always staring at it when you’re with him, adorning how the little “W” say so perfectly on your collarbones.

wally clark who’s always searching for you in the hallways between classes, inevitably meeting you and your locker and greeting you with a kiss while mumbling how he missed you.

I’ve watched this gif of Wally an embarrassing number of times

what that tongue do

(gifs by @cal-kestis & @joshuaballsett)

Me anytime a new Wally fic is posted.

Alright my precious little freaks of tumblr I’m gonna need WAY MORE WALLY CLARK X READER FICS I CANT HANDLE IT I HAVE THE LOVE AND NOWHERE TO PUT IT PLEASE

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

Chew on the side of his jaw and shake my head like a dog

I want to bite his jugular

Seriously what is up with this phenomenon

If I had a nickel for every time, I fall in love with a fictional character from the 80s. I'd have 2 nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice right.

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.

Simp.

summary: prompt fill. a silly little subby Wally drabble because our clingy boo is fun to write. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x masc!reader

warnings: smut. sub!Wally Clark. flashfic. crying after climax. Wally Clark has undisclosed mommy issues. same 'verse as Boy Noise.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🖇️

Simp.

"So good, baby," You praise, "Keep going. You wanna make me come, don't you?" Fuck, yes, Wally does. It's all he wants in the whole world. "Just like that. Such a good boy for me."

And the words go straight to his cock. Flush through him like the heat of the sun, burning in his belly.

You're at his house, dragged there after school because today was a shitty day and he was vibrating with restless energy. He needed you so badly and you never made him suffer.

You lounge in his dad's armchair like a king, one leg hooked over Wally's shoulder, the foot of the other propped on the seat of the armchair, spread wide to accommodate him as he whimpers and whines and probes his tongue as deep as he can get it, kissing your pussy in a filthy wet rhythm.

He hears the clink of your glass on the side table, gives a little moan when you plant the heel of your foot on his shoulder and push, dislodging him. Wally makes an unhappy sound, pouts up at you with big, pleading puppy eyes, but you only smirk in return.

"Stand up," You command. And he does. No resistance, just obedience.

He gets to his feet and takes in the image you make, sitting there mostly naked, your button-down open to reveal your naked body, tie loose and still around your collar. You lick your teeth, grinning like a lion that's about to eat its first meal.

"Strip." You say, tone making Wally's belly squirm.

Again, he does as bidden without question. Tries to do it slow, give you a sultry performance how you sometimes want him to, but apparently not today.

"I don't want a show, baby," You tell him, husky and rich, eyes dark with fever, "Get naked. I want you to make me come on your cock."

Wally's out of his jeans and t-shirt faster than lightning. You stand in a single, sultry motion, lead him by his cock to the armchair and push him down. He spreads his legs wide, arms clasped around you as you as you crawl into his lap.

You take another long sip of his dad's whiskey, the ice tinkling when you place the glass down again, and then, quick and hard, you drop down on him. Take him as easy as a breath after the long minutes he spent pleasuring you with lips and gentle teeth and sloppy tongue.

He's fucking needy now.

You don't move. Not right away. Giving him a chance to adjust, to breathe, to center himself before, "You're gonna be a good boy for me, aren't you?"

Jesus, he will, he promises. He'll do anything for you, he just wants so badly to make you happy. Tell him how to make you happy, please, fuck, please.

Wally whines, hands loose on your hips, desperate for you to let him show you how good he can be as you take control. It's slow at first, driving him crazy, the heat inside him fogging up his brain, his body tense with desire and need.

"Please," He begs when you begin to ride him a little faster, just enough to get him to the edge before you stop. Shit. No, please, no, he needs to come so bad. Has needed to come since you got him on his knees and grabbed the back of his head, brought his face to your pussy and told him to eat up, sweet boy.

It's intense, everything he feels for you, with you, from you. His body shakes as you start again. Slow. Too slow. And then harder, sharper rolls of your hips until, yes yes yes like that, you start moving in earnest, taking him over and over, deep and tight and hot.

"Please," He gasps, whimpers, eyes clenched shut, hands squeezing your hips, "Please, I need to come."

"Not yet, baby boy." You say, somehow stern despite how you're panting. "Let me come first and then you can have your turn. I know you can wait." He can hear the feline grin on your face, can feel your heavy eyes on him, "You're my good boy, aren't you?"

"Yes!" He sobs, the pleasure and frustration making him that much more sensitive, "I'll be good for you, so good, I promise!"

You lean over, still bouncing on him, his cock throbbing inside you as he tries so hard to keep himself in check. "So perfect for me, baby," You reassure him, "Such a perfect boy for me."

Wally spent years trying to be everything his mama wanted him to be. The man, the myth, the legend. In control always. Perfect son. Perfect player. Perfect student, friend, partner, upcoming pilar of the community.

And he did it. Everything she asked, Wally did, getting him nowhere and nothing except more pressure and expectation and criticism.

Maybe that's why he's like this. He's not a psychologist, but it makes sense. How much he fucking needs you to take control and tell him what to do so he doesn't have to think. At least you give him the chance to be good, instructing him from point A to Z, no judgment, just praise. Your sweet, perfect boy; all yours, only yours—

"Please," He whimpers, every touch electric. "Please, Mommy, I need to come," He begs and the title is new, coming from deep within him, ushered from some part of his soul he's kept tightly sealed until now, but he couldn't give less of a shit. Especially with how you moan and squeeze around his cock like a vise.

"Yeah?" You purr, still so together. So in charge.

He gasps, shivers, head falling back.

"Look at me, baby," You order, and Wally listens. Mouth parted as he pants, eyes half-lidded and soft, "Are you close?"

"Yes, yes, please," He can't take much more, not even if you ask him to. And he doesn't want to disappoint you, doesn't want to come before you do. Desperate to be everything you say he is.

You move faster, harder, more frenzied, back arching, tits in his face, moaning when you come. Jesus, fuck, the feeling of you coming around him makes him dizzy, he can't hold back, begging over and over because it's too much stimulation, too good, too right, oh God.

"Please," He practically sobs, "Oh, oh, please!"

You lean in, nip his ear and then command, "Come for me, baby boy. Be good and let go."

Just like that, Wally submits to it and comes harder than he can remember doing before. His whole body tenses and then releases, shuddering as he sobs in relief, fucking up into you as he spills inside you with the force of a fucking train.

"That's it, baby, give me everything," You groan, and it just prolongs his climax.

You're so good to him. So understanding and kind and generous and Wally can't help it. He doesn't mean to, hates himself a little for it, but his eyes sting and his breath catches and he clamps his arms around you as he body shakes.

He's crying. He's never cried during or after sex before now. It's just...there's so much inside him, emotion and feeling, and he has to let it out or he'll burst. Small whimpers and needy whines, tiny little sounds of love and pleasure and thankfulness. He feels so fucking clingy, desperate to hold onto you so you won't slip away and leave him alone to fend off the world by himself.

With fingers in his hair, you draw his head into the crook of your neck, other hand stroking his back as you shush him sweetly.

"I've got you, my good, good boy. You did so well. You made me feel so good."

And he sniffles, nods, holds you as close to himself as he can until the moment passes and he's calm. Vulnerable. Embarrassed. Cheeks bright pink and lower lip between his teeth because you force him to look at you.

"How do you feel?" You ask in such a kind, affectionate tone that Wally feels—

"Better." He admits. And then, quieter, "Safe." In a way he's never felt until you came into his life like a beacon of hope.

A slow smile forms on your lips and you kiss his forehead, "Good. That's all I want, baby."

Wally sniffles again, clears his throat, asks timidly, "Did you like it?"

And you pet his hair, hold his jaw, and say with certainty, "I loved it, baby boy. I always love it."

Warmth blossoms in Wally's chest. He grins up at you, proud of himself.

🖇️___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Boyfriend Wally Clark (NSFW).

a smutty flashfic Wally Clark headcanon outlining who he is as a boyfriend.

Gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure atm. HIS ARMS 😍😍