🚨 We Need Your Kindness To Survive 🚨

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - U

U is for uh-oh, oops, and oh no. Even if it isn't Wally's fault, having become more and more unhinged as things between you and him unfold into something so perfect and permanent, Wally thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

He's caught with his head buried between your thighs, his chin and mouth shiny with your juices. He licks his lips, unbothered, raises a brow at Janet as she stands there wearing the ugliest scowl Wally has ever seen on her face, her body vibrating with unfettered rage. He sits back, naked and on display, lazily stroking his cock with pride in his eyes.

"Get out," He tells her calmly, and she closes door behind her because what the fuck else is she going to do? Watch? Wally slants his head toward you, smirking, crawling up your body to kiss you with unbridled passion, grinding his cock between your wet folds to coax you back into the right headspace. "Don't worry, baby," He coos, "She's gone." Since you can't see from under the blindfold, your wrists bound to his headboard.

You whimper, clearly unnerved by Janet's intrusion despite not having seen or heard her, the bitch wielding feline grace when it suits her. She isn't supposed to be at Wally's house, in his apartment above his family's garage. Janet was in the throes of organizing prom with the rest of the committee and wasn't due to meet him until tomorrow morning for another rundown of their court dance. Smile, wave, make a dumb speech thanking everyone for their votes. Blah blah blah, Wally doesn't care.

He's been on her shitlist since last week, anyway, so what's another nail in the coffin? He actually feels relieved that Janet discovered you and him. It gets him hotter, harder, more desperate for you, because now he isn't shackled to late nights and impromptu weekends alone. Wally can have you whenever he fucking wants. Which has steadily turned into always over the course of the year.

And, wow, has it really been that long?

He knows Janet hasn't left, doesn't hear her car pull out of the drive, so he greedily, selfishly, shamelessly eats your cunt like a Michelin Star meal. Tongue probing your pussy as he moans at how good you taste, his eyes rolling back in his head from it, and the whole time you're keening and crying out and begging him not to stop, oh fuck Wally, I'm so close, please please. Don't worry, baby, he loves this probably more than you do.

When you come, shouting his name for Janet to hear what she never had a chance in hell to get from him, Wally fucks you like reckoning. Paints your chest and belly like a Jackson Pollock before he releases your wrists and soothes you with affection. As you doze, he tucks you in, kisses your hair, vows to be back in five minutes, dons a pair of low-slung sweats and a smug grin as he lopes out of the room, down the stairs, and meets Janet outside the door.

"Something I can do for you?" He asks, obviously unruffled which just drives Janet fucking nuts.

She wants an apology.

Wally laughs in her face, "For what? It's not like I'm really cheating on you."

She wants an explanation.

Wally snorts, "I don't owe you shit." He doesn't. Janet was never his girlfriend. She was never anything. A pest at most, an inconvenience at least.

"You don't get to have her." Janet seethes as if she has some kind of say in it.

Again, Wally laughs, shakes his head, tells her where to go as impolitely as he can. "She's already mine," He states, breezy, sucking the fingers he fucked you with to stress the point. Janet has a prima donna meltdown right there on his parents' lawn, stomps her foot and positions herself to slap him. He catches her wrist easily, stares her dead in the eyes, "You jealous, Janet?"

He fondles himself, pushes her arm away and grins, "Is this what you wanted?" Then he glances to his window, slides his gaze back to her, chuckling darkly, "Or is it her?" She doesn't answer, her face flaming, brows knitted, jaw clenched, "Is that why you wanted me to stay away from her? Because you wanted her all to yourself?"

"Shut the fuck up, Clark," Janet growls.

Wally knows it's not true; he's merely enjoying himself. He knows that Janet is actually just jealous of you, not because she wants to be with you but because she wants to be you. It's been obvious since Day One of their stupid arrangement. Everything Janet did was an underhanded plot to shrink you down as small as Janet feels.

"I'll show her the video." Janet threatens, voice low and menacing, full of umbrage. "She'll never look at you again."

In an instant, Wally's in her space, fire in his eyes, "I fucking dare you."

He hasn't exactly planned for this, but he's tired of worrying about it. If you walk away, you walk away—Wally's heart stutters—at least he has enough spank bank material to last decades. A blessing since he doesn't think he could get it up for anyone else ever. Thank Christ he saved every picture and video and voice note you've ever sent him.

"I'll make sure you lose Prom King," Janet sneers and, again, he snorts.

"I don't think I could care less," and, taking stock of himself, Wally finds that to be true. "It's just high school, Janet. Get a fucking hobby."

He hears the stairs creak, your honeyed voice from behind him wondering, "What's going on?" and he turns and saunters toward you without a second thought, bundles you into his arms, reveling at how you drown in his football jersey.

"You should go back inside, baby," He says even as he kisses you, soft, warm; hands groping your ass through the polyester. "Don't want my neighbors getting a peek at what's mine," he pecks the tip of your nose and gives you a humble smile that still feels a bit unnatural on his face.

It's then that Janet does the dumbest thing she could think of. She lunges at you while you're still in Wally's arms. A rapid badger fueled by envy. Wally pivots you to safety, blocks Janet's feeble attempts to get at you with his body. She loses steam pretty quickly when Wally doesn't budge.

Janet drives into the sunset with a promise to rat you out. To your mom first and then your dad. You look confused, "Why should I care?" You ask her retreating back, inviting her to go ahead because you've wanted everything out in the open since you and Wally started fucking that fateful afternoon after Janet's pool party.

Later, between dinner with his parents and Avengers: Infinity War on the projector in his apartment, Wally feels a weight lift off his shoulders. No more Janet. No more sneaking around. No more yearning and missed opportunities and bullshit. Just you. Just him. Together for real.

He combs his fingers through your hair as you lounge, draped along his front between his legs, head on his chest, breathing deep in sleep, and Wally realizes for the first time that, despite being free to do whatever he wants now, he still chooses you.

What the hell have you done to me, baby?

Still, his arms tighten around you and he doesn't let you go until it's time to get ready for school.

🧿___________________________

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Gonna come back to this tomorrow cus I'm really drunk

October Moon

summary: in the aftermath of the theater of terrors, there'd been a single, short moment of silence when everyone had been too stunned to speak. too frightened confused sick horrified to say a word. and then everything had descended into chaos.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER MOON prologue

There was a single, short moment of silence before the commotion began. A moment of confusion and sick loss that weaved its way between and through everyone until it thinned into a desperate need to understand what they'd all just been through.

"He was so alone," Charley whimpered, pitiful, arms curled around his middle as he tried to forget the little boy who'd needed someone to stay with him so badly, "I didn't want to leave him..."

Rhonda scowled, "How could she not know!?" Spitting her anger through gritted teeth, gesturing widely as if the air was too close and she had to push it away.

Wally was frantic, hands moving as fast as his mouth, "I saw Maddie's dad—"

"What?" Weakly, tortured, "Where? Why did you get to see him and I didn't?" And Maddie began to tremble because she'd always known her father had died but she and her mother had never been given more than a feeble, 'it was an accident'. An accident that had rendered her father unrecognizable and dead. An accident that had driven her mother to the bottom of too many bottles and away from her daughter. An accident Maddie had never believed because she'd known, she'd KNOWN, it was a lie. But she hadn't visited him, she'd been stuck in a hospital room with a twelve-year-old girl and her great aunt, forced to watch as Then Deputy Baxter held his hat to his chest and declared a little boy gone.

It wasn't fair and Wally held her even as he explained, "Janet was there," to Charley and Rhonda who stared at him in disbelief.

They all talked over each other, "What was she doing there?" - "Do you think Mr. Martin knows?" - "Maybe that's why he helped her move on; he knew she was dangerous!" - "He can't know, if he did, he wouldn't have let her near us."

Meanwhile, Ajay was urgently scouring the rows, under every seat, down every aisle, calling out Mina's name before disappearing at a run to the back of the stage, into the rafters, "Mina, Mina, Mina!" Over and over, heart in his throat, where was she, she never left the theater, where was she!?

But all of that faded into the background when you heard a weak, strained voice ask, "Why didn't you tell me?"

On your knees on the stage, staring blankly at the spot the farmhouse door had been, you tried to make your mouth work. Slowly, you panned to Xavier who stepped toward you, his face pained, his brow creased and eyes filled with so much sorrow it felt like a kick to the heart.

Meekly in return, you confessed, "I didn't remember," as if that solved the problem. A band-aid over a bullet wound, as true as it was. You'd been tested several times at your mother's stubborn hand for dissociative amnesia, unable to reconcile how you'd remembered Aiden's. A lethal fall down the farmhouse stairs. A farmhouse in town, abandoned, on your way home from the elementary school. You'd gone in to escape the rain and he'd wandered off on his own. Had hit his head so hard on the stone wall, he'd bled out at the bottom of the stairs. You'd watched his spirit rise and then vanish. It was in your statement to Xavier's father. It was how you'd remembered it, in vague flashes, for the six years it'd been since it'd happened.

"I didn't......it wasn't like that." You repeated, forcing the words out around the lump in your throat. "I didn't remember..."

Xavier collapsed to his knees in front of you, devastated, "How? How could you not remember that? How could you not tell me!?" It wasn't harsh or mean or loud though part of you wished it was. It was a quiet expression of betrayal. And then, a breathy whisper, "He was my brother, too."

Maybe not biologically, but emotionally, spiritually, it was true. Xavier had held Aiden as a baby; had held Aiden's hand on his first day of kindergarten; had taught him big words to impress his teachers, and how to kick a ball into the net, and how to skateboard like a big boy, and how to—you shook, eyes welling with tears as Xavier continued to look at you like you'd just shattered his whole world.

"Xavier," Maddie said softly, her own voice shaky with grief, "It's not her fault."

Xavier exhaled deeply as he turned his head to Maddie, pressed his lips together, suddenly appearing anxious beneath the pain, "When did you get back?"

Maddie shot you a helpless look and you took the responsibility from her, saying in a wet tone, "She didn't, Zav."

Xavier was confused for a long minute, staring at Maddie as if he could piece her together like a puzzle.

He blinked several times, looked—really looked—at the students he didn't recognize, noticing their outdated apparel, their pale complexions, their...not-really-thereness. All at once, it struck him, a knife-twisting epiphany while your voice in his mind, carefree and purposefully teasing, told him and Mathilda about your hot football player ghost. He gazed at Wally Clark, the number 57 on the sleeve of his varsity jacket, and then swallowed.

Xavier's eyes closed almost as soon as his gaze returned to rest on you; his lips pressed together so you wouldn't see how the bottom one wobbled. His shoulders tensed, and, when he opened his eyes again, he couldn't stomach to look at you. In that moment, he understood like common sense exactly where he stood with you and it hurt.

"Zav," You whimpered, reaching for him, but he shifted away, shaking his head. "Zav, please," You attempted, shuffling forward on your knees. He stood, stumbled back a step and then grabbed his head, breathing heavy.

"No." He said, then louder, "No, no way." You clambered to your feet as he jumped off the stage. "It's too much," He said and you could tell he was fighting tears, "I can't do this." He marched to the top of the center aisle as you called after him, pausing only for a second to glance back at you over his shoulder, his expression utterly destroyed, and then he opened the door and left.

You made to run after him, but Wally grabbed you, pulled you to his chest. "Let him go, baby," he said, calm and soft, and when you struggled, wailing, folding forward, and falling to the ground, he went with you and cradled you in his arms. Let you cry out everything that had happened; with Aiden, with the farmhouse cellar, with the cult, and Amelia and Anabelle. All of it. Wally held you through it, shushing you, holding your head to his chest, rocking you, kissing your hair between variations of, "I've got you, baby, I'm right here."

As you began to recover, thick sniffs and small whimpers, you burrowed into the safety and comfort of Wally's arms, not wanting the others to see you like that. Unfortunately, you didn't have a choice. Your phone vibrated in the back pocket of your skirt. Wally shamelessly retrieved it, handing it off to Maddie without a word.

"Simon's here." She said, as somber and morose as the rest of them.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Quinn Wu smiled as they greeted the next customer at the box office. It was Friday. They'd planned on checking out Horror Con with their friends. On finally letting loose and enjoying a weekend like a regular teenager. That was until their mom had stumbled in drunk right as they were about to leave, their mom clearly unable to work her shift at Jitterbug Theater. It wasn't busy. They could've called their mom in sick and the other staff could've easily made do.

But their family was hard up for money and the rent was overdue by several days, the threat of eviction already made clear like blood painted on the doorframe. So, there they were, giving their best customer service smile to the next in line.

The woman was old but pretty, her hair tucked under a hat that reminded Quinn of something one would see in the 20s. She wore large sunglasses accessorized with chunky rhinestones that glittered in the fluorescent light. Her cashmere sweater was a simple black, her mink shawl a bright Barbie pink. She hobbled in tall, spiky heels toward the counter, her weight balanced on a cane that matched her sunglasses.

She was fabulous, Quinn thought, certainly the most interesting person they'd ever seen. The woman joked with Quinn as she waited for her tickets to print.

And then...then the world seemed to go quiet. The woman leaned in, her hand grabbing Quinn's when they offered her the tickets. With a grey-toothed grin, she said, "I'm so sorry your mother doesn't love you enough to let you have your own life," truly sympathetic. She lowered her sunglasses on her nose, sparkling blue eyes gazing deep into Quinn's.

Strangely, Quinn wasn't alarmed. Or offended. Or disturbed. They were resigned. As if the woman's words expressed a universal truth they couldn't escape. Quinn nodded, their eyes casting to the countertop.

The woman leaned in further and assured, "Don't worry, pet, I can make it all better."

Quinn's eyes flashed up to hers, hopeful. "Really?"

The woman nodded, "Just be sure to go to school on time and don't skip any classes. Be a good student," the woman instructed, very serious, "and I'll make sure you get everything you want." Her smile remained sweet while her eyes turned sharp. "I promise. But do you?"

Quinn pondered the question, tilting their head and staring at the woman in front of them who could give them everything they wanted. After a few silent seconds, the beat of their heart getting louder in their ears, they answered:

"I promise."

💀___________________________

OCTOBER SUN PT.27 - PART ONE

note: for those who don't know, Quinn is a character who will be making her/their debut in S2. i'm using they/them pronouns to respect the actor as i don't know anything about Quinn yet. but anyway...*cracks knuckles* let the challenge BEGIN. i swear to all that i am that i WILL finish this nutjob of a fic before next Thursday if it's the last thing that i do ☠️✍️🔥🚒

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS.

Me a supposed writer that has never written anything public in my life when I can't find a fanfic thats pacific to the random scenario I thought of at 3:00am: Am I- am I just supposed to wright it myself??? 🤨🤨🤨

(Once again another mini one-shot that fell victim to being in my drafts for over a year because I used to not have the balls to post my writing. I fixed it up a bit because I was in highschool when I wrote this. I've been wanting to write for Ben Plunkett a lot more and I found this and thought it was fitting. Enjoy)

Ben Plunkett x reader

Warnings: Fluff. Like I said I wrote this during my last year of highschool and it was basically to help me cope with the fact that I was lost in French so yeah... Shitty French

You and Ben sat on his bedroom floor, textbooks and assignments all laid out in front of you. This was what every Monday afternoon for the past 6 months has looked like. It was his way of trying to help you plan better, knowing what assignments were due and helping you study for them.

Sweet as always. You two had started seeing each other at the beginning of the year after his best friend Mandy introduced you to him. A tall, awkward, kind eyed boy who didn't realize he was hot. And after 3 long grueling months of trying to throw hints at him you finally realized you were gonna have to be the one to ask him out.

It was adorable, seeing the way his entire body basically blushed, stuttering over his words. Somehow he managed to spit out a confused, nervous 'yes' that made you giggle.

It was simple, you went out for coffee, talked and giggled, then he dropped you off at home with a goodbye. Somehow you ended up here with your favorite boy in the world.

"I haven't paid attention to Madame McBaily since French 1" You grond as you realized you were completely lost.

"How the hell are you already in French 3?" He gave you a confused but kinda impressed look.

"That's the thing, I have no clue. Somehow I just slipped under her radar." The magic of somehow guessing everything right.

"You have to know something." He was really trying to help you study but sadly hes taking Spanish so he doesn't know much more than you do.

"Ja'mappelle" your name rolled off your tongue. "Comment sa va, Ja dix-sept anz" he looked at you expectingly, like he was waiting for you to finish. "Yeah that's all I got"

He laughed, rolling his eyes. "3 French classes and thats all you've learned."

"Chat" You smiled at him, hoping that it would somehow help.

"Not much better" He giggled at your poor attempt at french as you grond. Crawling over to him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled into his chest.

"I'm gonna fail this class." You whined as he wrapped his arms around you.

"No you're not. You've made it this far..... Somehow" The last part was whispered under his breath. You playfully slapped him on the shoulder, still not pulling away from him.

"I heard that" He laughed once again, light and airy. You'd get back to studying later, for now it was just the two of you, cuddled up, forgetting about that fact that you're probably gonna fail your french quiz.

my biggest red flag is that I can listen to the most brutal murder documentary's while writing smut.

To whom it may concern

First, please watch this video:

That targeting was two days ago Do you see, my friend? Were you astonished by the size of the bombing? Did we really deserve all this? That was a small part of what happened that night. Imagine the amount of these explosives falling on the bodies of innocent people, after the army asked them to leave their homes and migrate to this safe area, as it claims. If You saw that, my friends, people were burned to death, screaming, and there was no one to help them.

This explosion was only about 500 meters away from our tent. As you know, the tent is made up of some scraps and wood. Shrapnel and rubble scattered on us, and some of people’s tents were burned. I was slightly injured as a result of that, not to mention the tent’s failure.

I kindly ask you guys to help me achieve my goal and help me and my family leave this place, otherwise our fate will be like the fate of those innocent people who were killed for no reason. We need to live a better life than this. We do not have to endure all that. Please, guys, do not leave us. We die this way💔

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October Moon

summary: information had finally started to come to light. things had been falling into place, for better or worse. you and Wally had had to keep keep going, no matter the cost, but at least you and he had had each other to lean on when you'd realized that not everything had been as it'd seemed.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.9

"She was such a quiet girl, you know..." Nanna said softly, holding Ginny's hand as she spoke. Her eyes were distant as she fell into the past, reliving memories of their childhood. Ginny was much older than Nanna. Nanna had been a surprise after their mother, your great-grandmother, had been told she wouldn't have been able to create—never mind carry—another baby. Nanna was the youngest of five; Albert, Violet-Anne, Arvin, Virginia-Amrose, and then surprise baby Abigail.

Your family didn't see much of Nanna and Ginny's siblings. There wasn't a specific reason for it that you knew of, just a lot of distance in between that had deterred your less familiar great-aunt and her brothers from reaching out. After the death of their parents to a house fire, the elder siblings had moved on from Split River and that had been that. They were probably dead—definitely Albert who'd had to have been well into triple digits if he was still alive.

"What changed?" You finally asked, gazing at Ginny as she slept, oxygen tube down her throat. That was the worst you'd ever seen her. Your eyes pricked and your stomach clenched, and you so badly yearned for her to wake up. To hug you, pet your hair, tell you that you were being ridiculous worrying over her.

Nanna chuckled, her thumb stroking the back of Ginny's hand, "The reason her lungs are so weak." She said, quiet, tired, "The fire."

"The fire made her more—" Blunt, dramatic, stubborn, batshit insane with a warm heart and a warmer smile. You settled for, "Loud?"

"It scared her. You come face to face with death like that, sweetpea, and it changes you. Either for good or for bad." Nanna cast you an amused smile, "I like to believe that's why you and Aiden were so mischievous. Obnoxious little munchkins, the both of you."

"What do you mean?" You asked around the lump in your throat, pictured Aiden at that farmhouse as he clutched Limon and ate stew made by the specter of a stranger.

Nanna gave you a surprised look, one that indicated you should've known what she meant. She told you anyway, "Aurora was an easy birth. Out in minutes. Pink and squalling like a banshee." She chuckled, shaking her head with a fond smile. "But you...you were impatient. Wanted to be in the world as soon as possible." She paused, patted your knee, "You came early. Such a small thing." Nanna's smile fell, "You weren't breathing. But," Her smile returned, "They saved you. You recovered quickly and I have a feeling my wily sister had something to do with it..." Nanna gave Ginny a playful look of bemusement, "You didn't have to suffer years of treatments like most unlucky infants."

Amelia's words rung in your head like the knell of a church bell: Death ushered them into the world and left a piece of himself within them. So...you'd been delivered with Death at your heels. Amelia had mentioned that that was how you could interact with the metaphysical world and those who inhabited it. Holy shit.

"And Aiden?"

Nanna sighed, "Poor little bug." She made the sign of the cross, something she only ever did when Aiden was mentioned. "I always wondered if he knew..." She shook her head as if to dispel the very thought and diverted, "He was blue as a violet. The cord had...had wrapped itself around his neck. He was dead for almost a minute before they revived him..." Nanna's eyes glistened. She gazed over her sister again, lips pinched in despair.

Death had had its arms open for Aiden since the day he was born, you mourned. You weren't surprised that Nanna thought it possible that Aiden knew, somehow, someway, that he wasn't destined for a long life. If anyone in the house would've known, it would've been her. She'd examined his palms the same as she'd done everyone else's...

"Did you know?" You had to ask, uncomfortable that you hadn't remembered until now exactly what your grandmother's connectedness was capable of. "That he wouldn't live long?"

Her face was grim as the reaper, eyes haunted, "I hoped against it. Reading the Awen isn't precise, sweetpea. And I prayed, in that instance, I was wrong."

But she hadn't been. You almost wanted to confess to her about Aiden and the farmhouse and the other ghosts. You didn't, of course, but you suddenly realized how ill-equipped you were to face everything alone. The responsibility of stopping Amelia, and retrieving Maddie's body, and freeing the ghosts. Freeing Wally. It was a vise that strangled your heart without remorse.

Nanna brought the conversation back to Ginny, faraway eyes and compassionate smile, "That fire might've weakened her body, but it strengthened her spirit." She ended wistfully, "Few realize that Death is also capable of giving gifts. It can be kind as it can be cruel."

It moved you, how much Nanna cared for Ginny. As much as they bickered, Nanna and Ginny were close. Two peas in a pod. Ginny had taken care of Nanna after their parents had died; she'd assumed the role of mother and father and sister in one fell swoop since none of their older siblings would do it.

They sounded like a selfish bunch and—as you stared at Ginny's ashen face—you thought fuck them for not being there. Fuck them for allowing the distance to matter. Fuck them for ignoring or avoiding or pretending your family didn't exist because they'd rather have let everything fall apart at a time they should've come together.

Minutes later, Nanna excused herself to fetch a cup of coffee from the hospital cafeteria, leaving with a kiss on your head and a squeeze of your shoulder. You took her place in the chair beside Ginny, held her hand in yours, and tried to tamp down the slurry of emotions that rose within you.

After a long moment of silence, you choked, "Everything's fucked up." A plea to someone who couldn't hear you. She couldn't travel, you imagined because her body and mind were too weak, but you desperately needed her right now. Or you needed to finally unload the burden of truth on someone you could trust because it had become too much. "There weren't stupid storms or squalls or whatever you and mom said there would be. But it feels worse. Like everything is out of control—"

A thick sniffle, a hiccup, "Maddie's a ghost and her body is missing. I think there's someone out there who wants to use the ghosts...use...shit, use Wally...to glue them in it," A thought you hadn't shared out loud until now because it scared you more than you wanted it to. Your voice broke when you continued, "I--I don't know what to do... I-I don't even know where to look. Or how to look. I need help, Ginny. Xavier and Simon are great and they want to help, they do, but they don't know this stuff and now I'm expected to be a walking encyclopedia and—" A self-deprecating snort, "Fuck. I barely know anything..."

The heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm. The ventilator whirred. Ginny remained a gaunt statue in repose.

You leaned over and pressed your forehead to the back of her hand, hot tears falling onto her cold skin, "Please wake up..."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon ran his thumb over the pendant, his other hand in Maddie's as she urged him to lure her mother to the school. Get her here, he heard Maddie plead, I always know when she's lying. But Simon's mind was elsewhere, his eyes flicking over the pendant's design, teeth clenched as he berated himself. He should've asked more questions when he'd—God dammit, the answers might've been right fucking there and he'd been too busy monitoring his pleases and thank yous.

He couldn't believe he hadn't recognized the pendant the night of the dance, strung around someone else's neck. One of a pair, your great-aunt had told him. Maddie had worn the necklace every day since he'd known her. A gift from her father she rarely, if ever, removed.

Without acknowledging Maddie's insistence to get Sandra in a room with her, Simon asked, "You said your dad gave this to you?"

Maddie's teeth clicked when she abruptly closed her mouth, visibly stunned that Simon would ask that now. A brief moment of contemplation and then, "Yeah. Right before he died."

"And you're sure about that?" Simon's eyes never left the pendant, but his grip on Maddie's hand tightened marginally, a gesture expressing that it was important, that he needed her to be precise.

"Yeah." One beat. Two. "I mean, not really. I got it in the mail. Mom said he sent it when he was still in Texas and that it had taken longer to get there than he did. He was back for a couple of weeks before..." Maddie trailed off. Simon could fill in the blanks. Christopher had been home for a couple of weeks before he'd killed himself while wearing your body like a meat puppet.

"In the mail?" Simon prompted as he released her hand to cup her jaw, gaze boring into hers. "And you're sure your dad was the one who sent it?"

Maddie swallowed. "Yeah. It was definitely him."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Simon, I'm sure." Prickly, fierce. "My dad sent it. I know he sent it."

Simon pulled her closer to press their brows together, soothing her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Mads, I just want to make sure that we have all the facts."

"Why?" Maddie asked and leaned back to examine him because he wasn't making sense.

Simon hesitated for a moment, unsure how to put into words the weird coincidence he was beginning to think wasn't a coincidence at all. "When I went to pick her up for the Homecoming dance... Maddie, her great-aunt had exactly the same pendant. Ginny said that it was one of a pair, earrings or something, but she lost the other one a while ago."

Maddie frowned and then her face went slack in shock, "You think her great-aunt might've been the one to give it to me?"

Simon shook his head, frustrated, confused, steadily more defeated as he realized he was so far out of his depth that he couldn't hold his head above water anymore, "I don't know." He slumped, rubbed his eyes, and gave Maddie a look of apology. "But we have to find out. Someone has to know."

"Si, I know my dad gave me that necklace. I can't explain it, it's just a—"

"Feeling?" Simon finished for her, weak smile curving his lips. "Yeah. I believe you, Maddie," He assured her, grasping both her hands in his as he bowed toward her to give her a soft, sweet kiss. "I'm not saying he didn't. But if it's the missing earring, maybe she gave it to him or maybe he took it. For a reason."

"What...what reason?" Maddie asked hesitantly, bits and pieces of information scattered in her mind like shattered glass.

"Ginny's in the hospital. And your dad's..." Dead, he refused to say, already guilty that he'd had to bring this up in the first place. "Your mom might know something. Like you said, you can tell when she's lying."

"Get her here." Maddie reiterated. "And we can figure out if—if my mom..."

Cutting her off, "Okay," Simon put the necklace back in the manila envelope, folded it, and shoved it in his back pocket before promising, "Okay, I'll figure something out."

Maddie sat silently for a long moment, gazing into the middle distance, so worn and small that Simon nearly choked on his heart looking at her. Sandra might not have been the best mom, but she was Maddie's and Maddie loved her. Simon couldn't imagine Sandra hurting Maddie, and yet... People turned into strangers when their souls were broken and they had enough booze in their veins to breathe fire.

He had no clue how the pieces fit together. If Sandra had the answers to all the questions Simon and Maddie had. Why Maddie was a ghost. Why Maddie's dad had gifted her a necklace with a pendant on it that belonged to your family. The two things were connected, Simon was sure, but he didn't know how.

As he stood, Maddie stopped him with a light touch to his hip, "Simon?" She rose to her feet and shuffled into his space, looped her arms around his neck and held him, "Yesterday, what you said about whether or not us figuring it out means me moving on—"

"Don't worry about that right now," Simon murmured into her hair. It was jarring, how she didn't smell like anything. Just clean air. He stammered, "I was being selfish."

Maddie tilted back a fraction and said firmly, "You're never selfish," which made Simon's heart skip a beat and break in a single moment.

"Maddie...if it was her," He started, nervous to voice his concern, his fear, though he had to understand, "Are you sure you wanna know?"

She didn't answer. Simply tucked her head into the crook of his neck and held him close.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

The inevitable was already underway. There was nothing Mr. Martin could do about it, no way to postpone it or change the outcome. He couldn't sabotage Amelia's plan, it was impossible given her influence; a worm in his brain slithering between the ridges and festering his conscience. It was a failsafe, she'd explained. She'd been betrayed in the past and Mr. Martin had understood, had allowed her to cast her spell and shape him into whatever she needed him to be.

Still, the fact that the night was finally upon them, after decades of waiting, made him wonder if he'd been mistaken to have trusted her word.

If Janet had been right... No. Janet was wrong. Wrong. She was clever, sure—the ideal candidate to complete their circle—yet callow in more ways than was suited to what Amelia had required of her character. Rhonda was a decent if rough substitute. Too new. Too neglected. Mr. Martin wasn't allowed to divulge more than necessary to her, and that seemed to be the wrong approach since now Rhonda was just as riled up as the rest of them when he needed her to focus.

Dawn's ascension had happened while he'd been in the fallout shelter, thus he hadn't succumbed to it to the same degree his students had. Nevertheless, he'd felt it. Felt that peace. That warmth. That omniscient truth that he'd never felt before because crossing over was supposed to be impossible inside the barrier. In that one moment, everything he'd done to help Amelia seemed cursed. Which included his poor luck in inspiring Rhonda's full submission.

It didn't matter now, did it? That slimy part of his mind tried to justify in a voice that wasn't his. The gears had begun to turn, the machine already in motion. No one would be hurt. Not more than they'd already been, at least, and it was far too late to regret what he and Janet had done to bring everyone together. Moving forward was the only option and after all was said and done, he'd pay his penance.

Wally and Charley and Rhonda spoke over each other, a cacophony of questions with no answers. None that he was at liberty to give. He plucked a thread from his blazer, hands shaking because of what it signified that his clothes were deteriorating instead of resetting as they'd done since 1958.

"—the light at the same time as the goosebumps. Simultaneous goosebumps." Wally ranted between Charley's retelling of what they'd experienced. Mr. Martin's collar suddenly felt too tight.

Bernie and Katelynn agreed and confirmed and Mr. Martin wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole. He had to keep them in line. Just a few more hours. A few more hours and it would be over and he'd be free... The noise of their curiosity caused his mouth to dry, heartbeat too quicken, palms to get clammy. He had to have faith, but it was dwindling with every second he listened to his sentient students describe Dawn's ascension from their points of view.

Their eyes were on him, pinning him in place as he fidgeted. He strung together the right words in the wrong context, anything to supplicate them, but they continued to press like walls closing in. And then Mina's face, sad and scared, seared behind his eyes and he couldn't manage the pressure.

"After all these years, how can you still be so clueless?" Charley demanded and Mr. Martin absorbed it like he'd absorbed Amelia's outrage when Janet had vandalized a plan that had been decades in the making.

It had been such a struggle to attain the right pieces and set them on the board. Amelia had been righteous in her anger. A glorious, beautiful blaze of fury that had left Mr. Martin wounded and weak. All because of Janet who'd argued his ear off for weeks. Who'd rearranged the board under his nose in order to steal what didn't belong to her.

"What if looking back isn't a bad thing?" Charley hounded, "What if it's actually the key to get out of here!? Why shouldn't we at least try that?"

They weren't allowed. They weren't allowed to look back. Unlike treacherous Janet, Mr. Martin had obeyed the rule. He'd crafted so many lies, so many perfect explanations that Amelia had praised, yet, now, she didn't trust him fully despite his fealty. What would it take for her to forgive him!? WHAT WOULD IT TAKE!?

"Because it's painful to constantly be thinking about it!" Hearing his own words, Mr. Martin knew he would forever remain her devoted servant. In sickness and health, not even death could do them part. "Right!?"

There were still two pawns on the board. Two vessels. One for him. One for her. Let Janet die a second time in Maddie's body. By morning, Maddie's ghost wouldn't exist anymore to need it.

Just a few more hours, he told himself, and it would be over.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally kissed you like it was the last time. Slow, deep, explorative; memorizing every shape and taste of your mouth as he held you by the hips in his lap.

The school was empty aside from the teachers involved in the awards ceremony. Ajay had snuck you in before accompanying Maddie to the teacher's lounge for a coffee and a heart-to-heart. Wally had found her in the hallway after Group and she'd been in bad shape. He was grateful that Ajay had stepped in to be there for her while she waited for Simon to arrive with her mom so that Wally could soak in your presence privately.

You'd informed Maddie that Simon had had Nicole reach out to Sandra and ask if she wanted to accept the Fall English Award on Maddie's behalf. Sandra had apparently been reluctant, yet she'd agreed in the end. Initially, they'd wanted to uncover if Sandra knew about the origins of Maddie's necklace. The same necklace your great-aunt wore to repel ghosts that might try to snatch her body.

After you'd explained, "It was me," Maddie decided they'd change direction and would question whether or not Sandra had been involved in disappearing Maddie's body sans her ghost.

Wally couldn't believe he hadn't remembered immediately when Maddie had mentioned her necklace. He'd seen it. Not the necklace itself, but the moment Christopher had asked you to take it from his body's pocket and deliver it to Maddie on his behalf.

"Amelia must've stolen it like she stole Limon," You murmured, head tilted back against the wall, staring beyond the ceiling at your mental conspiracy board. The red yarn that connected one thing to another. "She used it so Christopher couldn't steal his body back...which is why—"

"He had to use yours to stop Amelia..." Maddie finished, glum and bereaved. "So, why give it to me?"

You rolled your head to the side and stared at her a moment before, "To protect you." When Maddie gave the impression she didn't understand how it would've done any such thing, you elaborated, "He probably didn't want the same thing to happen to you that happened to him." A long, pregnant beat. "He didn't want you to be used."

"I knew it was from him," Maddie stated as she curled over her knees. "There was a note. I remember now."

You held your hands up and wiggled your fingers to connote your ability to transfer things from the metaphysical world to the living world. "I don't remember getting it to you, though. I don't remember much after seeing Aiden..." A shaky breath and then nothing.

"Wally?" You asked, likely having noticed his mind had wandered. "You okay?"

Wally's grip tightened on your hips, then smoothed down to your thighs, back up under your skirt to drag you closer by the ass. He gave you a weary smile, about as much as he could muster. Between Mr. Martin's behavior in Group and Maddie's comment—"What would you do if the one person who was supposed to protect you was the one who hurt you?"—unleashing a repressed sense of betrayal toward his mama, Wally's strength of will had rapidly declined. He didn't think he could do this anymore.

Call him selfish, but he missed the simpler times. The times before Maddie and the mystery and the cloak and dagger he and the others were forced to come to grips with. There was peace in ignorance and he wanted to find it again, just for a second, just to regroup and start fresh and—

"Hey," Your hands on his jaw, angling his face toward yours, "You still with me, big guy?"

"Sorry baby," Wally said, low and solemn, "Too many thoughts."

You nodded, "Yeah. Me too. I can't believe I never noticed Maddie's necklace. I see it every day, you'd think I would've put two and two together as soon as I met her, yanno?"

Not exactly where Wally's mind was, but that was odd.

"You said you and Maddie weren't that close before now," Wally tried to reason so you wouldn't drive yourself crazy thinking about it. "Who really pays attention to that kind of thing?"

You raised a brow, "I noticed Nicole had the same spider ring as Maddie as soon as she started wearing it."

"Okay. Fair. But that spider ring didn't ward off evil spirits, right? Maybe it's a magic necklace thing." And then he put on an all-powerful, godly voice, "All who look upon this necklace shall forget its importance lest they be cursed!"

You giggled, a sound as beautiful as a summer breeze, and beamed at him. Jesus, he could live without food and water and anything else so long as he saw that smile every day for the rest of his existence. He lifted one hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, dipped in to brush his lips against yours, a smile of his own forming.

"Very impressive use of the word 'lest'," You teased, "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Hey, I was practically a straight A student, thanks."

"What I'm hearing is that you bullied nerds into giving you test answers."

Wally scoffed, "I didn't bully anyone! I used my popularity to charm certain academically gifted individuals into helping me along. It was give-give, baby, I swear." He grinned, both hands back on your ass, massaging your flesh.

"You may be onto something though, Wally." You said after a moment, "I wouldn't be surprised if Amelia glamoured the necklace so that no one would recognize it." A cheeky grin, "Lest her whole plan go up in smoke before she could finish it." You raised your hands and made a poof gesture.

Wally drew you closer by the back of your head, his gaze flickering over your face as his eyes went heavy and heated, "Have I ever told you how sexy your brain is, baby?"

"Once or twice," You smirked and brushed your lips against his, "But you're welcome to remind me."

A slow, thorough kiss before Wally said, "You have a very," kiss "very," kiss as his large hand pushed your closer so you were planted flush against him, "sexy brain."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier was insubordinate on a good day, but the little nuisance had been more so in recent weeks. The Sheriff didn't like it. By then, Xavier didn't need to be cagey or deflective for the Sheriff to recognize when Xavier was hiding something. In fact, Xavier had been combative, had shown up of his own volition to once again challenge Mr. South's innocence. And hadn't that been the cherry on top of a taxing day...

It was hard enough keeping the deputies busy, their instincts firing on all cylinders, much to the Sheriff's chagrin. Which, fine, was why those people were hired—except Lou. Lou was impossible. A donut-munching waste of space with muttonchops to stand in for his backbone—but the Sheriff was at a pivotal point in tracking down and locating Madison Nears' runaway body and getting the plan back on the rails. He couldn't afford any more disruptions or screw-ups.

To think, they'd had weeks of wiggle room before that daft creature Amelia had coddled had run off in what was to be Anabelle's vessel. Weeks. The ritual wasn't to be performed until the winter solstice. Empty school. Parents of teenagers not entirely sure where they were at any given time because it was the holiday break and kids would be kids. Alas, Amelia had fucked up so royally in who she'd trusted that they didn't have a choice. It had to be tonight or they'd lose everything.

The Sheriff exited the evidence room, Xavier's energy lingering in the air after their confrontation. That had been a disaster just as everything else leading up to then had been. The Sheriff—Anabelle—had long since perfected how to handle that bucking bronco of a boy. had been raised by emotional distance and respect and he'd turned out beautifully. As had Amelia. Furthermore, it'd worked. He'd pried Xavier away from his values easily, had him right where he'd needed to be. Cutoff. Conflicted. Corrupted.

Only now, he seemed to have recovered. Quickly. Quicker than the Sheriff had ever seen anyone shed a hex. If there was time to hunt Xavier down and prise the truth from him, the Sheriff would, however, time was of the essence and Amelia had made fucking sure they didn't have enough of it to spare. To be so stupid as to let Janet Hamilton frame Amelia's most precious golem!?

May Dagda protect, because the Sheriff wasn't going to lose another precious rebirth due to things that could have, should have, been avoided.

He wanted very much to release Mr. South. His purpose was better served on the board. Unfortunately, the Sheriff couldn't afford anyone discovering the second set of prints on the crowbar. Pausing at reception, the Sheriff noted the address he'd scribbled down. Another possible lead. At his hip, out of sight of those milling about the station, he typed a text to Dave's phone. The address and a blunt reminder that Amelia had better not let her former shining star slip through her fingers again or Anabelle would snatch her precious vessel right from her spirit's embrace without remorse.

After all, daughters came and went, but youth was something worth holding on to.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

"Are you finding anything?"

"Dude, this thing was old when I went here," Wally told Charley from his place at the microfilm reader.

The file room was dark, claustrophobic, filled with a lot of information yet very few answers. So far, anyway. You sat at the single tiny table, flipping through transcripts from 1960 while, at your feet, back against your leg, Ajay perused the stack of yearbook printouts from around the same era.

"Dawn found something yesterday when she looked into her past." Charley said, determined, "I mean, Janet must've done the same. So...maybe if we look into their pasts, too, we could find something that could explain all of this."

Ajay sighed, "Don't we already know?" When Charley snapped a pointed side-eye at him, Ajay flapped a hand, "I get why we're doing this. What, against all odds, made Janet and then Dawn special enough to clock out of this hellscape. But do we really think it's going to be written on paper?"

"Or microfilm." Wally inserted, peeking out from behind the machine.

"I think Charley's onto something, actually." You said as you scanned another transcript from 1960: Maria Volkov. "Maybe there was something special about their pasts that allowed them to move on easier." You glanced up, eyes finding Wally's, "I mean, you've all looked back before, right?"

"More or less," Ajay said, flipping through another yearbook. "Yet, here we still are."

"What year are you on?" Charley asked Wally as he carded through the accordion folder containing Dawn's student files.

Wally responded, "1959. I'm trying to move backwards, but I am not seeing Janet's name anywhere." He glanced between you and Charley. "She died in 1960, right?"

"Yeah," Charley confirmed though he was distracted.

"That's what we have in our files, too." You added and then sat up straight to stretch out the kinks that had settled between your vertebrae. "Apparently she fell down the stairs and broke her neck?"

Wally cringed, "Sounds shitty." He looked at Charley again, "Did you know that? Because I didn't know that."

"I'm beginning to think we've been discouraged from asking each other personal questions about our deaths for a reason," Ajay muttered so only you could hear.

You didn't know what to say apart from, "Me too, buddy."

From his perch on the picture files cabinet, Charley rummaged through more of Dawn's files, engrossed though managing to reply to Wally, "No, I didn't..." He exhaled sharply through his nose and finally looked up, "Nothing of much interest in Dawn's student file, either..." Awkwardly, tinged with a thread of guilt, he admitted, "I know we weren't super close, but I feel kinda awful that we didn't get to say goodbye to her."

You listened as Wally answered, both you and Ajay forgoing your research to hear Wally say, "I don't want it to happen that way for me." He caught your eye, let his gaze hold yours softly, "I didn't get a goodbye last time..." You stood, shuffled around Ajay and went to Wally, settling in his lap when he shifted to welcome you. "I do not wanna just disappear..."

You nestled into his body, kissed his temple before pressing your brow against it.

"Me either." Charley said quietly.

Though it was obvious he felt the same, Ajay didn't say anything. Simply allowed Wally and Charley's grief to be heard and sat with it.

Wally turned his head, his lips pressed to your neck, his hand squeezing your hip before he tucked his face into your shoulder for a minute. You felt him breathe in and out deeply, absorbing your presence, your scent a balm for his soul, and then he returned to the slide he'd just inserted under the lens of the microfilm machine. Beneath you, he tensed.

"Whoa. Whoa, wait. This is weird." You peeked up at the screen, adjusted as Wally leaned in to read the small print. At Charley's prompting, Wally read, "Split River High School has been chosen for a national pilot program to protect students and teachers from the threat of a nuclear strike."

Oh. Shit. Had you not told Wally about the fallout shelter below the school?

"A fallout shelter will be built below the east wing of the school," No. No you had not. All you'd mentioned was that Dave had been skulking around the basement and you'd followed him. "The same location where a fire destroyed the former chemistry lab on January 14th, 1958." You were a terrible girlfr—wait.

"Wait...1958?" Charley voiced so you didn't have to. "That must be Mr. Martin's fire. Does it mention him?" Charley moved closer, half-sat on the side of the desk and watching Wally scan the rest of the old article.

"I don't see..."

You pointed to the screen where you saw Mr. Martin's name, "There."

"Oh, yes," His hand snuck under your shirt, thumb stroked your skin in thanks as he began to read again, "Authorities determined the fire was accidental. Four people were killed in the fire that overtook the lab during a routine chemistry lesson. Beloved Chemistry teacher Mr. Everett Martin was one of the deceased—"

"Wait." Charley interrupted, confused, "Four people? He said he was the only casualty."

Ajay was on his feet now, positioned himself behind Wally, a hand on Wally's shoulder as he curved forward and reread what Wally had already dictated. "Four people?"

Wally's attention returned to the screen to pick up where he left off, "Uh, two other staff, secretary Melinda Fontaine and school nurse Karla-Anne Mayfair, who had tried to help contain the fire while students evacuated were killed in the blaze as well as one student, sophomore..." He stopped, causing you, Ajay, and Charley to squint at the screen.

"What? What's wrong?" Charley asked.

Wally picked his gaze from the screen and skirted it to Charley, "Janet Hamilton." A moment of tense silence, and then Wally, pinning you closer to his body to quell his anger, wanted to know, "Why did they both lie to us?"

You stared at the name Wally had pointed to. It didn't make sense. Even in your family's files, Janet was cited as dying in 1960... Only... She hadn't had a death date until Ginny had remembered something and had Nanna write it down. You slipped out of Wally's lap and went to the stack of yearbooks Ajay had been scouring through to find the right one. Bingo. 1958.

You opened it, flipped through the pages until, "My great-aunt was in that class." That was the fire that'd weakened her. You'd assumed it'd been the same fire that had killed your great-grandparents, but no. There was Ginny's young face, smiling shyly from the page beside someone named Gladys Jones.

"What does that have to do with Janet and Mr. Martin?" Ajay wondered as he, Wally, and Charley crowded around you.

You scrutinized every other student's face for clues, because stealing bodies was the work of expert connectedness. And though they became new people in new bodies, their connectedness had always and would always remain. If you were right...

"There were only two ghosts." You uttered, and you felt Wally's hand on your hip, a steadying force, as he pressed himself against your back. "If the symbols were already around the school to trap Mr. Martin and Janet—"

Somber, Wally asked the question on everyone's mind, "Then where did the other two go?"

💀___________________________

PART EIGHT - PART TEN

note: dun dun duuuun. next part should be out more quickly. this one just kept testing me. thank you so much for your patience, my loves 💖 we're down to the wire now and just two (or three, maybe, idk yet) parts away from the finale 🙌

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS

Read me losing my mind

Wally Clark x Afab! Reader

Warnings: Smut. Riding. Public sex??? (It's in the art room) Unrealistic (cus passion doesn't really exist)

(this was just supposed to be another one of those posts where I just rambled about wally but somehow it instantly turned into a smut one-shot. Idk how it happened but here we are. I've never written smut except for small broken up little pieces from when I ramble so sorry if this is shitty)

⚠️ Smut below the cut, beware ⚠️

I physically can't exist any longer without having this man 😩😭😩 Like I'm screaming without the s I think I need to go back the therapy. Anyways anyone else been thinking about riding him???? No just me? Okay

On a real note imagine him gently guiding your hips while you rock back and forth on top of him. Loving dazed eyes while he admires you, worships you and your gentle rhythm. Not daring to break eye contact in fear that the feeling deep in his stomach will disappear, the feeling that keeps him grounded to you, stops him from floating away completely.

It was just supposed to be a relaxed day, hanging out in the art room while you both attempted to paint each other. That quickly changed when you planted a sweet kiss on his lips. That innocent little act turned heated in an instant. Blame Wally, he has no self control when it comes to you. His mind turning to mush the second your body grazes his, critical thinking skills going out the window.

Somehow you ended up on top of him, clothes thrown in a flurry. His hands dancing carefully on your body, skin to skin, lips to lips, heart to heart.

His hands slowly sliding down to where you needed him the most, teasing you but only for a moment before he allows you some relief. Fingers pressing against your clit, making slow agonizing circles that made you melt into his touch.

His kisses moving to your jaw then down your neck when he sucked at your pulse point , dragging a sweet sigh out of you that made him groan, sending vibrations onto the delicate skin of your throat.

Gently grinding on his fingers to attempt to cure the ache that's throbbing between your legs. The heat rising, making you feel like your body's on fire and the only cure is the gorgeous man with his hand massaging your sensitive clit.

"Come here baby" He pulls you so your chest is touching his, body's flush against each other. The tension in the room was thick as he grinded his cock against you. Sliding against you as he let your wetness coat him.

It happened slow, him gently guiding his tip into your entrance. Allowing you to sink down onto him at your own pace. Slow, gentle, rocking of your hips while you saver the moment.

Peace and quiet, just the soft sound you two make for each other. A moment just for you and him to bask in. Absolute bliss.

(okay I'm cutting it off there. I wrote this instead of studying for the 4 quizzes I have this week 🥲)

Edit: I should have studied.... I failed one of them 😐

I hate the way I look,

I hate my smile,

I hate the way I talk,

But you loved everything about me

You took all the hate and replaced it with love I never had before

Now I'm left with the essence of your love mixing with my hate not understanding how I could ever let you go

I hate myself more than ever