Wally Clark Headcanons - 3

Wally Clark, born to be a theater kid, forced to die a football player

This cast is everything

Nick Pugliese via instagram

3 ghosts walk into a bar . . .

WHATTA MAN WHATTA MIGHTY GOOD MAN

I’m creaming oops I mean screaming

Standing ovulation. I mean ovation. Whatever 10/10

MASTERLIST 💖

Here you will find links for my story You Belong with Me and all of my other upcoming stories and a list of all the stories I recommend. I'm so happy your here 💖☺️

Story recommendations

Story recommendations part 2

My Stories

You Belong With Me

Upcoming stories:

This Love

Wonder

The Lucky One (Milo x reader) COMING SOON!

Dress

34+35

Lay All Your Love On Me

Loml

Damn, Look At That View

Teach Me How To Love

The Dog Sitter (Milo x reader)

Lover

The Boy Is Mine

Music To My Ears

18+ MDNI NSFW WARNING

Summary: You’re sitting in the music room playing the piano and Wally joins you

Pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, mostly smut, grinding, swearing, mention of Mr. Martin haha, friends to lovers, you’re a ghost too

author’s note: this is my first fanfiction EVER. I wrote it at like 3am, so I’m sorry if there are any errors. Enjoy!

💋🎶

Riley sat in the music room, fingers dancing across the piano keys. Ever since the ghost gang discovered Mr. Martin had been withholding information, she’d felt off-balance. The music room had always been her safe space. A place to think. To feel. She was lost in the melody when Wally walked in. “Hey, Riley. Whatchu doin?” he asked, his smile familiar and easy. “Just playing around,” she replied without looking up.

In life, they’d been opposites. Different cliques. Different lives. But once you’re dead, none of that matters. They’d been there for each other from the start. Tonight felt different. Wally had this glow about him, like something inside him was shifting. She felt it, too. Like a hum beneath her skin.

“Want me to teach you a few keys?” she asked, patting the bench beside her. He sat without hesitation. She took his hand, and guided his fingers over the keys. Together, they fumbled through Mary Had a Little Lamb, laughter echoing through the empty room.

“Wow, look at you,” Riley said with a soft laugh, her fingers still hovering above his. “A real prodigy.” Wally grinned. “Yeah, well I’ll never play like you do.”She nudged his knee. “Please. With a few hundred years of practice, you might be ready for the second-grade talent show.”He chuckled, low and warm. Neither of them moved their legs. The contact was light, but it sparked something, something old, something new.

Wally’s voice dipped. “You know, I like learning from you.” Riley swallowed hard. The room felt suddenly still and heavy. Like the air was watching. It had felt like time itself had stopped. Just Riley and Wally.

Wally tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing to her jaw. The touch made her breath hitch, just enough for him to notice. He leaned in, slow and careful. For a moment Wally hesitates, as if he was waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. She leans in too. Their lips met. Soft at first, tentative. But the longer it lasted, the deeper it grew. Hungry, like they’d both been holding this in for far too long. Even in death, they made each other feel alive.

Wally pulls back just enough to whisper, “you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this” like a kid in a candy store. Riley laughs. “Then stop waiting.” They crashed together again, heavier and messier. Like they were on a mission.

Her fingers slid into his dark fluffy hair, tugging just enough to draw a quiet moan out of Wally. She smiled against his lips, taking note of that reaction for later. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, grounding her like she might float away.

She climbed onto his lap, legs on either side of him now, and everything shifted. The kiss deepened, their bodies pressing together like they were trying to become one.

Riley started to shift on his lap, straddling him fully making her dress bunch up as she settled into his hips. Wally sucked in a sharp breath, hands tightening around her waist. The kiss became sloppier. Tongues brushing, mouths open. She rocked against him slowly, and felt his body tense beneath her. Every movement felt euphoric.

A low groaned escaped him, buried in the kiss which sent heat floating through Riley’s body. “Fuck” Wally muttered. “You keep doing that and I’m going to lose it.” “Good,” she whispers, hips moving more deliberately this time dragging herself against the growing pressure between them.

His hands slid under her dress, fingers skating across her skin. She gasped as he grazed toward her chest, exploring like it was sacred. She continued to roll her hips again, harder into him with a slow, steady, rhythm. Wally’s head tipped back, lips parted in a silent moan. Riley’s hands trailed down his chest, dragging his shirt up, exposing his gorgeous chest.

“I’ve thought about this,” he said, voice hoarse, “so many times.” She began pressing kisses throughout his neck, sucking just enough to hear him gasp.“Yeah?” she murmured. “What else do you think about?”

He answered by grabbing her hips and guided her down, sync up to her. Their clothes rubbed and twisted between them. Fabric catching in all the right places. Her clit throbbed with every drag, every pulse of pressure.

She whimpered against his neck. “Wally.” He brought his mouth back to hers, kissing her like he was starving. His hips were moving faster now, the friction and ache building. She was so close, and from the sound of his groans, Wally was definitely right there with her. “Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Please don’t stop!”“I’m not going anywhere,” he panted thrusting up to meet her rhythm. Their bodies in perfect harmony, connected enough to feel every pulse of pressure.

When it finally happened, when they came undone together, it wasn’t just physical. It was something deeper.

Then Silence. Comfortable, warm silence.

The only sounds heard was their heavy breathing and soft kisses. They sat together in each other’s embrace.

“Wally?” she whispered.

“Yes baby”

“I love you”

He smiled against her skin. “I love you too”

And together they both let out a sigh of relief. Like they were finally home. 😊

Author’s note: I saw someone say bring back dry humping so I was like SAY LESS

Anxiety

summary: prompt fill. Wally isn't clingy. he isn't. honest. but something about your aura makes him nervous, and suddenly he's all hands everywhere and babbling where he's normally calm, cool, collected, and he needs you to get his head back on right. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. flashfic. nothing Anxiety Disorder related. Wally Clark is a whiny lil' babe when he's nervous.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🍋‍🟩

Anxiety

At first, you don't even acknowledge him. Which, alright, fine, you don't have to, it's not a rule. But Wally's suddenly anxious, tracking in his head all the things he said to you yesterday when he left your house. Hopped out the window, dashed across the lawn, and strutted home with a skip in his step because you showed him how much you love his cock.

Thrice.

You kissed him goodbye, sleepy and sweet, after he tucked you in. Normal. Better than normal, actually. And you didn't text him this morning to suggest anything's wrong.

Oh God. Does that mean something's wrong?

You don't always text him before school since, as you said, you know you're going to catch him before class. He left you pretty late last night, so no wonder you showed up only minutes before the bell instead of your usual twenty, and shit, is that the problem?

He wasn't considerate of your time? He should've been. Fuck, he should. have. been. Not whining and begging you for, "Just one more time, baby, please. I can't stop, I'm still so hard for you, come on."

With a whine he doesn't realize he releases, he crosses the cafeteria and takes a seat beside you. Fiddles with his hands in his lap, knee bouncing, trying to smile at Simon and Ajay who smile back, though something in their eyes is mildly concerned.

You chat away to Claire and Nicole as if Wally isn't buzzing out of his skin beside you, pretty and awake, voice tinkling like a bell. Wally chews his lip the longer you go without indicating you notice him.

You're wrapped up in the conversation, he tells himself. You're not mad at him. Right? .... Right!?

Uncertain, but desperate for acknowledgement, Wally reaches out and places a hand on your knee. You don't shoo him away. Don't move it. In fact, you inch closer, pressing your hip against his and curling your hand around his. You don't look at him, but Wally considers it a win.

Or maybe it's not.

Maybe you just don't want to cause a scene, and you're giving him crumbs of affection to placate him before you take him somewhere private and blow his world to smithereens.

By the time the bell rings, Wally's worked himself into a frenzy. Palms sweaty, face pale, lip worried red. He keeps his eyes down, offering you a nervous, tight smile when you gaze up at him as you stand and grab your bag.

You notice and tilt your head, studying him like last night's Bio homework.

You and he have English next, but you don't seem to care, dragging him by the wrist into and empty classroom where you instruct him to, "Sit."

Wally does as he's told, sitting in the teacher's chair, staring up at you with enormous, soulful eyes, as if pleading for you to forgive him for whatever he did wrong.

You scan his face through narrowed eyes, and then slide your bag off your shoulder and let it drop to the floor. Quite unexpectedly (though very much appreciated), you plant your legs on either side of his and plop down in his lap with your whole weight. Hips right against his, no air between you; your hands on his shoulders and his on your waist.

He gulps, blinking at you, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, "What's going on in that silly head of yours, pretty boy?"

Wally releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding, relaxing as your lips curl into a warm, sedate smile. His hands tighten on your waist.

"I...thought you were mad at me?" He poses like a question, feeling stupid now that he hears himself say it out loud. And then, babbling, "I thought I might've disrespected your time last night. I know I left later than we planned, and I'm so sorry. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again, babe, I promise. But you know how I am when I get you all to myself—" Which sounds like he's blaming you, crap "Not that it's your fault, I'm not saying that, I was just trying to say that I know I need to be more aware of the time—"

You shut him up with a hard, deep kiss. Your lips taste like candy, tongue sweet-sour as you sweep it over his, moaning in delight when he begins to respond.

His hands fall to your hips, then glide back to grab your ass cheeks, hitching you as close as he can get you. Wally spreads his legs wide, cock fattening up so quick he sees spots behind his eyes when you grind forward and gasp.

"There's my good boy," You murmur, breathless, beautiful; cheeks pink and eyes glossy, and, oh fuck, Wally whimpers. You fist your hand into his hair and drag him into another heavy kiss, not letting him breathe until you've had your fill.

He pants, fingers kneading the flesh of your ass as you grind in slow, delirious rolls of your hips against his.

"I'm not mad at you, Wally," You assure him, "What did I tell you last time you thought I was?"

It takes everything in Wally to remember anything outside of this moment, but eventually he says, "That you'd tell me immediately."

"And I meant that." You pause, going still, and he whines in frustration. "Don't you trust me?"

He nods vigorously, "I trust you, I'm sorry," pinning you to him which in turn shifts you against his cock. He moans weakly, grinding his hips up, begging you to take pity on him.

Fuck, it's insane how easily he gets worked up for you, but he wouldn't change a thing. You and he are already skipping English, might as well use the time doing something...productive.

"Shh, you don't need to apologize," And you say it as you wedge a hand between your body and his, fingers deftly undoing his fly, hand sneaking under the denim to palm him through his boxer-briefs. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Wally's breathing too quick to respond, to thank you for being so understanding. His eyes roll back, head tipping backwards, hips bucking into your hand.

"Baby, please," God, he needs you, is already leaking a wet spot into the cotton.

Cruelly. Sultry. "Use your words, pretty boy," You purr, biting a trail down his neck. "Tell me what you want to do."

He swallows thickly, groans weakly, a pathetic little mewl. He hates having to ask, especially when he knows you know exactly what he's angling for.

But then your hand stops, your hips stop, you stop, and he forces out, "I wanna be inside you so bad..." Choked and desperate.

He opens his eyes and sees you smirking at him, cool as a cucumber. Or that's what he thinks until you grab his hand and bring it under your skirt, encourage his fingers to slip under the crotch of your panties. Fuck, you're so wet. Juicy and slick and hot just for him. Again, he swallows, throat dry, eyes heavy-lidded and blown, panting like a dog as you begin to ride his fingers.

"Is that good?" He asks, cock throbbing when you throw your head back, arch your chest forward, moan like a porn star because of something he's doing to you.

He can't take it anymore, needs to have you, needs to be inside you. He pulls his fingers out too soon. You pout, but don't complain, shifting to peel your panties off before resettling in his lap. Wally has enough brain power left to check that the door is locked, the little window still covered by that Drug Prevention poster plastered all over the school for the next month.

You bring him right the fuck back into the moment by dropping down on his cock, one slick-slide move that punches a grunt from Wally's chest. You start slow, always taking your time to build a rhythm, drive him batshit fucking crazy with lust before giving him what he needs to get to the edge.

"You're such a good boy, Wally," You praise, lifting and sinking down on him again and again and again, squeezing tight around him every time, "You're so sweet, so perfect."

And, shit, he needs to hear that, his blood pumping harder, weak sounds of pleasure and gratitude released from his core, his hands clutching you like worship. Then, you start to move faster. Sharper grinds, harder drops, wet squelches telling him how close you are.

How close he got you.

"Oh, God, baby, I'm gonna come," He sobs, feet planted, hips bucking in tempo with your movements, fingernails digging into your ass cheeks, "Don't stop, fuck, baby, I'm gonna—"

It hits him like a Mack truck to the hypothalamus. He explodes inside you, crying out like a fucking princess, pumping his hips as he spends everything he has in him.

It rips your climax from you, Wally can feel it, shit, fuck, it's so good, the way you go so tight around him, a vise holding him deep inside you. The way your thighs spasm and your mouth falls open and you look at Wally like he's the most important person in the world.

Moments later, cooled down and cuddling in the afterglow, you pet his hair sweetly and kiss him with fondness; soft, loving.

"What do we do the next time you think I'm mad at you?" You say like a kindergarten teacher talking about sharing crayons.

Wally pouts, mumbles, "Talk to you about it."

You grin. "And when do we talk about it?"

"Before I get anxiety..." Wally pinches his lips together and averts his gaze.

You don't let him avoid your eyes for long, drawing his face back so he has to look at you.

"If it makes you feel any better, Wally, I honestly don't think I could ever get mad at you." You kiss the tip of his nose. "But if I do, I promise, I'd tell you straight away, okay?"

Wally nods, as solemn as he is grateful and relieved, "Okay."

You lean in, nip his earlobe and whisper, "Good boy." And suddenly he's fucking hard all over again, flipping you onto your back on the teacher's desk and showing you with his body exactly how good he can be.

🍋‍🟩___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

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

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

Milo Manheim 🤍

School Spirits - (Season 2 Episode 7)

Literally how I was during the finale

Watching School Spirits isn’t enough. I need to run full speed into my tv and become a part of it.