I’m Not Obsessed, You Are

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.

group shot!!! 💖📷

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.

Need this man BIBLICALLY

Also look how adorable Peyton is in the back. Love her too

The Jock - Wally x Reader

A/N: @blogblogblog437 had said they wanted more, so I managed came up with another one-shot...😊

Warning/s: fluff, Wally being adorable, possible spelling/grammar mistakes

Previous: Princess

Wally lived – figure of speech – for football. The brotherhood, the rush, the way his mind would clear when out on the field. Football was the one thing he had done religiously, but it was also part of his death.

Mr Martin had tried to help him through the death aspect of it. Embrace the positives of it. So that’s why Wally did anything football, training or games.

You on the other hand, hardly cared for sports. On the occasion going – when you remembered –  to training or games. But mostly going to see him in those short shorts, and maybe shirtless at training. And those tight pants on game nights, couldn’t forget that. The last few training day's he had opted for no top, and you thanked whoever was listening for that.

To you, he was the stereotypical 80s jock aesthetic. And you didn’t hate it. Not at all. 80s guys were more manly, while the 90s guy were pretty boys. Not to say Wally wasn’t pretty, for he definitely was. But he was just better than those from your era.

You sat in the stadium, just a few rows up on a bench. One leg propped up on the bench, its partner on the floor. You rested your weight on your arm, which hand was on the bench next to you. Through the white framed sunglasses, you watched the living football players on the field, along with a hyperactive Wally, and a few other ghosts.

You were softly laughing at that golden retriever on the field. The way he moved around the living and ghosts, words aggressively falling from his mouth in support and encouragement, though the living couldn’t hear him.  Put a tail on Wally and it would be wagging furiously. And it made you feel joy, happiness. Not to mention the warm fuzzies when he looks up at the seating.

There was a one in three chance he was looking at you, as both Charley and Mr Martin were here. Would have been four, but Rhonda dipped early on. Unable to watch Wally be macho Wally.

You on the other hand, was eating it up. But trying to keep it low key. Until his top came off, gold chain catching in the light as it rested against his skin, then you were sitting up straight. Looking over the top of your sunglasses. It felt like your jaw was on the ground, by how agape your mouth was.

“You better close that mouth...unless you want to catch flies" called Charley in amusement, sitting a couple more rows up above you.

You closed your mouth, and swallowed the lump in your throat. You could hear Charley laugh, as he went back to writing whatever he was in that notebook of his.

You could feel your face warm up. And with it possibly a pink tinge to your cheeks. Rising to your feet, you straightened your hounds tooth shorts, before grabbing your jacket and moving down the stairs.

You had just stepped onto the ground, when a football came bouncing and rolling over by your feet.

“A little help!” Wally called from the field, a smirk on his face.

You looked to him, noting he had thrown the ball over to you on purpose. And you knew it was to stop you leaving. Which meant he had been keeping an eye on you.

With a dramatic huff, you hung your jacket over the railing behind you. Casually you moved over to the ball, pointing down at it. Which Wally laughed and nodded his head.

Nodding your head, you picked it up. “Take it, it got away from you?” You called back.

His laughter got louder. “Yeah, something like that...throw it back?” And he held up his hands, ready to catch it.

You laughed. “I’m not good at throwing...”

Now it was Wally who dramatically sighed. “You can’t be that bad!”

I laughed. “Oh, I’m pretty bad" you stated, clutching the ball in your fingertips.

“You have to hold it firmly, not like that" he chuckled.

You placed your palms to the ball, feeling it against your skin. Looking back to Wally, who was making gestures to him. Which was to encourage you to throw the ball.

Taking the football in one hand, you drew back that arm before throwing, releasing the ball. Which flew in the air, and fell way too short for either of your liking. It landed just over half way between you both.

Wally blinked, before shooting you that bright smile as he jogged over to the ball. All you could do was enjoy the sight of his naked chest. He scooped it up before continuing to jog over to you. Completely surprising you.

“You weren’t lying about not being that good at throwing" he chuckled.

You looked away, flustered by his playful words. Not to mention seeing his chest and that gold chain – that you wanted to hold with a finger and pull him in for a kiss.

“S-shut it" you stuttered.

Wally laughed at how cute you were. His princess was just so adorable, and he was going to teach you how to throw. So holding out the ball in front of you, he slipped around behind you.

“Take the ball” Wally instructed picking up your hand and put the ball in it. “There. Now to prepare for the throw...”

He moved your arm around till he was happy and had you in the right throwing position. The feel of the back of your hand to his palm, it made his heart beat faster.

You on the other hand, were holding your breath – even if ghosts don’t technically breath. The feel of his hand on yours, his chest brushing your back. Your heart skipped a beat when he did step closer, finally pressed against you as he moved your arm further back.

“Now...we throw!” Wally said in a husky voice, it bringing a chill down your spine.

With those words, Wally moved your hand forward, enough momentum. It was really all him, just using your hand and arm like a holder. As your arm came forward you managed to release the ball. It flew off to the field, almost to where Wally had been standing.

You blinked and then beamed, forgetting Wally was pressed up against you and still holding your hand.

“Oh my gosh!” You gushed. “I-I did it!”

Wally laughed. “With my help Princess".

That was the moment you realised how close the two of you were, and his hold. You felt your face warm up, no doubt a pink tinged to your cheeks again. And after a moment did Wally catch on to, for he quickly released your hand, and stepped back from you with a cough. His face warming up too.

“Princess?” Came a laughing voice from the stairs to the stadium seating.

You and Wally turned, to see Charley making his way down to you both. Having had his fill of writing for the moment. His question had you both blushing harder.

Wally rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah...”

Charley looked between you both. “You’re calling her Princess now? Thought that was a name you call her when talking to Rhonda and me?” He sounded surprised.

You both went red. Like bright red. You looked away, finding the players training on the field more interesting. Wally scratched his head, awkward smile on his cute face.

“Ah...w-well” – clears his throat – “I-I’m calling her Princess now...” Wally responded awkwardly, a little all over the place.

“Oh, so she’s Princess now, huh?” Rhonda asked walking over, lollipop in hand. “Quite the development”.

Wally looked between both his friends, floundering. His eyes wide, sputtering noises. You on the other hand, were biting your bottom lip, trying to act like you weren’t there.

Rhonda walked past you, bumping you quite harshly, resulting with you falling into Wally. Who didn’t hesitate to catch you.

“Come on Charley, we’re needed else where" smirked Rhonda, dragging off the other male.

Your back was pressed to Wally's chest, his arms around you. You could smell the faint smell of what would have been his aftershave. And for Wally, he could smell the flowery, citrus perfume you once bathed in.

“Got you Princess" Wally whispered in your ear. His breath tickling your ear.

A shiver ran down your spine, which Wally felt. He held you closer, concerned for you.

“You alright Princess?” His concerned voice melting your heart.

You nodded. “Ah, y-yeah...” you sighed. Heart beating rapidly in your chest.

Wally chuckled, his nerves wearing off hearing the stutter in your voice. He moved you to stand up straight, turning you to face him. The warm, sweet smile on his face just making you melt more. Those gorgeous eyes of his looking over your face, before stopping at the side of your face.

Shakily Wally brought up his hand and pushed back your hair behind your ear. His smile growing wider at his handy work.

“Much better, can’t hide that pretty face, Princess" his said with that sweet voice, and shooting you a wink.

A blush crossed your face, that strong girly pop - Rhonda's words – could easily become a puddle of goo for this guy.

You swallowed, for the Princess was falling hopelessly for the jock.

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. sub-adjacent!Wally Clark. 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, bottom 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 his nervous demeanor 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 an 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!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Tongue Twister.

a PWP drabble highlighting Wally Clark's addiction to eating your pussy like a man possessed.

work is getting in the way of my wally time 🙄

Nah fr tho

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