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clarks-letterman · 12 days

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URGGGGGEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! | zed necrodopolis x male!reader

a/n — putting this as male reader because it's implied. not explicitly stated but I don't want to misadvertise the fic lol, gender neutral pronouns and body parts used. I don't really like the smut in this but the idea was funny to me… this fic will definitely be non-canon by the time Z4 releases!!

summary — Zed goes to Mountain College and gets a sex toy, his roommate comes to their shared dorm at a bad time.

words — 3k

warnings — smut! 18+ | implications of sex and actual sex occur, uses of the word "gooning", zed zombies out and they fuck so... feral!Zed, slight dubcon!! - first zombies fic so it may be ooc or just poorly written

~~~

Fall was in full swing at Mountain College. Soon the tops of roofs would be snowcapped and walkways would be sprinkled with salt, but for now, everyone tried to enjoy the weather while it was still warm. Sloping sides brought the occasional gusts of wind that all of the early morning go-getters had to deal with. They had to learn the hard way to bundle up if they wanted to make it to class without becoming the next monster to roam the Earth—probably as a snow yeti or something similar. The lecture halls were grand to handle the kind of metamorphosis a lot of human and inhuman students would be going through over the course of their early adult years. The only place where people were forced to grow together were the dorm rooms—as a push for inclusivity at Mountain College left everyone in close quarters to someone—or something—they had no clue existed before college. It was another thing to learn about, to understand that the small circle of your hometown isn’t the only circle to exist. People have groups that come in all shapes and sizes, and not all of them are going to fit together nicely, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be an effort. But there was one unspoken rule that everyone had to learn, regardless of their major: don’t enter a room with a tie, sock, or anything hanging off the door handle. Not at parties, not in classrooms—if there was such a thing to happen, and especially not at your dorm.

When Zed arrived at Mountain College, he never expected anyone to be as pro-zombie as they were. His roommate was insanely warm and kind to him. No one really hid who they were here. They were at that stage where they left the conformities of high school and living with their parents to being so overwhelmed with freedom that they had no way to grasp everything they had. The freedom; the new flaws determined by society were still unclear. Zed was one of those people, being free from the shackles of Seabrook and Zombietown’s driving force in unity to being another student in a sea full of them. It wasn’t to the same extent that he had gone through, but the established scene of breaking free from your past to start something new is what really pushed him to start trying things. He wanted to be a part of the community and to do that, you have to understand the area first.

Zed started by doing most of his workouts around campus, then transitioning over to the city that was built around Mountain College. The short drive down to the city below could be completed in a timely manner during a daring jog down the road leading to the developed area. He never wore more than a tank top and shorts for his morning runs. The college was north of the city, so he only ever rarely went into the downtown area during his morning runs. He decided to go farther on his run today since he had an upcoming game and needed to burn off the endless brain-fest for dinner from the night before. So many calories, so little scores during his big game was how he viewed it.

Most of the shops still weren’t open, but there was one on this block that was still open. It turns out that the shop was not opening early in the morning, but in fact, closing after a very late night. The neon signs had yet to be turned off, and one reading ‘OPEN’ in big illuminated letters drew his attention. Next to it was a red triple-X sign.

The fleshlight was cobbled together with scraps and carefully welded parts to resemble the repurposed items of Zombietown. It reminded him of home, and the clerk told him that the toy was advanced, deceiving the average person by appearing to only be made of scraps and to have the basic, archaic function of just fucking it. Inside it was a hidden set of magnetic coils that both provided the correct amount of electromagnetic pulses through the zombie’s dick to prevent them from turning into the much more unpleasant version of themselves and it heightened the feeling of jerking off while the machine made contact with the skin from the inside.

He listened to what the clerk had to say about remembering to take off his Z-Band so it wouldn’t overstimulate him to the point of numbness, and that the side effects of it were mainly just slowed brain activity from “too much gooning.” As Zed would be quick to learn, it was called going cockdumb. There was the opposite, too, where his zombie side would forfeit all rational thought and quickly take whatever the closest thing to fuck is around to poundtown.

He learned quickly, though, and did as he said when he got back to his dorm. The order of instructions was simple: get yourself ready—get your dick hard, is how he interpreted it, take off the Z-Band, and use the fleshlight to calm all of his zombie urges. Before he started any of that, though, he placed one of his ties around the door handle facing the hallway. Then he got undressed, stripping down until the full-body mirror over his closet’s sliding door reflected his pale figure and vibrant green hair. He stood in the frame, checking out his recent gains for a second—still eternally lanky, but he was starting to fill out in the places that mattered.

His hands roamed over his body until he got down to his nether regions. Zed rubbed his dick until he was hard enough to stick his dick in the fleshlight, then watched in the mirror as he took off his Z-Band. The area around his eyes started to darken and dark veins started coursing all over his body. He took a few deep breaths before reaching for the fleshlight, each breath drawn in becoming more raspy as his insides changed in a way he couldn’t see. Carefully, holding on to it with an intentionally lighter grip so as to not overuse his own strength, he guided it over his cock and watched his tip disappear into the slit. He moaned, it was tight. He moaned again, it was vibrating. And then he looked back up at his reflection, the monstrous features were gone.

Zed never told you about his little reveries into sex and pleasure as the weeks went on. After that faithful day, he found that he came harder and started to crave the feeling of release more and more. The feeling was simply addictive to him: a mix of tingles from the electro-pulses and genuine pleasure from the stimulation. But with how frequently he did it, there was bound to be a day where mistiming or miscommunication would expose him in the act. Today was that day.

It was around two in the afternoon, the ground was covered in a thin layer of snow and Zed had stopped his morning runs in favor of a quick indoor exercise and then moved to jerking off while the sun rose—you were returning to your shared dorm with the zombie from a lecture, notably earlier than usual. It was a Gen-Ed for biology, something that Zed had learned when you approached him one night in the hopes of having him help you. If he remembered correctly, it was about zombies—a newly implemented unit in the curriculum, now finding its way into its own circle of life. New studies emerged about the carbon emission of their dead cells that Zed couldn’t help with, but he explained how he felt that he functioned and the way he and plants interacted. That was at the beginning of the semester and it was how he found out that your class ran until around two-thirty. Usually.

Zed was enjoying his time inside for a change. Having finished his classes for the day and feeling the testosterone of his morning workout preserved through it all, he decided the best thing to do during his alone time was to use his broken-in toy. Zed was confident enough to not hide his sex life—well, he was confident enough to act like he was having sex with someone else, not his sex toy or the fact that he edged himself until he literally couldn’t hold it in anymore. That part was thankfully undisclosed by everyone since they knew not to enter his dorm, but you entered without thinking. He was laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling like the white ceiling was painted over with the limitless stream of thoughts flowing out of his head. His eyes were shut, soft moans slipped out and he barely shifted the fleshlight on his dick out of the fear of blowing his load too early.

His load threatening to come out dissipated quickly, though, when he heard the door handle click. Then the hydraulic mechanisms that would normally push the door shut started to whir as it opened. He reached for the blanket he slept under, letting the fleshlight hang off his dick so he could find something to cover himself up. He was mad at himself for slipping into the habit of playing with himself while naked, but it was so much easier to bunch his comforter up against the wall and lay in bed with easy access to all of his holes. In the seconds—which felt even shorter for him—he covered his lower half and just accepted that you would see his bare torso. With enough smooth talking, he could convince you that he had just woken up from a nap.

“Don’t be mad.” You said, coming in, hoping that he wasn’t with a naked girl or anything. You tried keeping your view of the inside of the room as limited as possible by turning your head just in case. “But I got out early ‘cause of the weather and I saw the sock…”

The only issue was that his fleshlight was forming a bump in his sheets, meaning that he couldn’t be laid down without it looking like he had a huge dick—or what would be the more reasonable explanation: he had a sex toy. Either way, it looked unnatural. So while you were still acclimating to the sight of him, purposefully looking away to give him time to cover up. You were still under the impression that someone else was in there, but you heard the clatter of something hit the floor, followed by a hasty curse under his breath.

You decided that you had given him long enough and finally looked into your shared dorm room. On the floor was a machine made out of old zombie parts that seemed to have broken into pieces, scattered around a pair of bare feet that padded around the carpet in panic. Your eyes trailed up to see Zed, naked and with a raging hard dick. Still freshly coated from the lube he pumped into his fleshlight, still wet enough to glisten in the sunlight pouring in the window behind him. And to say he was naked didn’t mean much, because he was truly naked—no Z-Band in sight on his body. His dick was red for only a second before the veins on it darkened along with the rest of his body.

Somehow, his dick looked to be bigger, more intimidating. The dark shade it turned caused it to look like anything but slimming. His chest started heaving and that drew you to his arms, bulging with thick black veins that trailed up his arms and increasingly curved arms. They started finding their way to his midsection until his hands reached his dick. Neither one touched his pulsing cock, but motioned around it as if he knew that the fleshlight was unusable. He started fucking the air like he knew the presence of it from his more conscious and tame state.

Incoherently, through a gust of grunts and growls, he started speaking. It sounded like the friendly words he used during your past exchanges but were blatantly needy and desperate. You couldn’t quite hear what he said, so you moved closer under the assumption that he still had some control. Some sense of sanity without his Z-Band on. But as soon as you were within his reach…

Zed grabbed you, pulling you closer to his naked form. You looked at the dark circles around his eyes before meeting his actual eyes. A few words slipped through—as if he could still recall the language he had used for years somewhere deep in his brain—slurring out a loose connection of words that sounded like: “You break it… I break you…”

Zed’s mind was everywhere yet nowhere at once. His feral side was feeling and processing all of the emotions from his “human” side. So many things in his head were whirring for the first time in a while, and nothing was shutting down to compensate for the rising new emotions of rapacity—the urge to have it all and take it all. His head was already running at one-hundred and ten percent so now he needed to claim things in the room. To make things his. His room; the little voice in the back of his head that he suppressed about being annoyed by the fact that he had to share a room with you was finally being heard. You’d walk out of this—or better yet, be carried—with a new perspective on ownership.

Sex with Zed was fast. The urges brought on by his true zombie nature allowed him to rip off the clothes you wore to attend class. They were in shreds, adding to scattered bits of his broken toy, some landing on the sharper parts of it so that you didn’t have to worry about stepping on something painful as he guided you to his bed. It was the closest one to him and the easiest to throw you down on since the sheets were all undone, unmade. He would make you a mess in the next few moments so it didn’t really matter to him.

But for the first time, Zed was faced with a challenge in his zombie brain. He had put you on his bed—the faint smells of sex and sweat emanating into your nose from how much he jerked off in his bed, typically covered by his comforter—but now he looked at you, laid on your back, head on his pillow, and he was faced with one of two choices: did he want to cum in your mouth or your ass? He wanted to do both, and he hit his head in frustration, grunting. The simple thoughts his undead brain was meant to handle couldn’t stomach this as easily as brains.

A feeling deep within him told him that your ass would bring him the greater amount of pleasure, so he hopped on the bed with you, kneeling. His increased strength allowed him to lift your legs easily and with an unmatched haste. Your hole was in clear sight, and he wasted no time in burying himself down into it and lapping away. It was another sensation he had, thanks to consuming a million videos of porn in his spare time. That, and he was still a zombie. Flesh was something that he wanted to taste during his feral frenzy. It was the only thing his tongue tasted: the saltiness of skin. He felt so good, and you wanted to bury your fingers in his vibrant green hair to push him deeper into you, but that seemed a little too risky in his current state. Besides, he didn’t stay down there long. His head reared up a few moments after going down on you, his clear intention to fuck you until he comes, not the other way around.

Thanks to already fucking his fleshlight, his dick was still coated in lube; still sheening with its slick surface reflecting the light. When he put his dick in, he didn’t feel any friction, and he wouldn’t have cared if he did. The friction didn’t bother him and if it didn’t bother him, then it shouldn’t bother you. It never became a problem, though.

Zed decided that the perfect position to keep you in was with your legs over each of his thin shoulders. He started thrusting, taking little to no time to go as fast as he could. He was desperate, uncaring if you needed time to adjust. But, like everything else about his zombie-heightened feelings, what it took to make him cum went up too—much higher than his regular edging point.

Zed was a quick learner. He found which spots made you feel the best—well, which ones made your face twist and your head turn into his pillow as he fucked you. That seemed to make him climb to the peak faster than anything else. Your ass was tight and soft, sure, but it was your reaction to how he dominated you with his big dick that really made him get going. He unleashed a flurry of moans that were deeper than the voice you got used to hearing.

Wet sounds and slapping filled the room until he came for the first time. You could feel your ass burning from the rough slapping and the way he kept up the skin-to-skin contact—breeding you until he was out of breath. Just like when he first transformed into the beastly version of himself.

Zed pulled his dick out and you could hear the wet gushing, as well as the feeling of your hole leaking with his cum. He must have been really pent-up because it was already ruining his sheets and still seeping out of the tip of his dick. You looked around for his Z-band, still gathering your surroundings and acclimating yourself to the point-of-view of his bed. It looked to be on his dresser and within arm’s reach, so you went to grab it. But Zed stopped you, guiding your hand to his dick that was still hard. This was going to be a long night…

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neil-writes-fics · 3 months

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My Adoring Phantom - Part 1

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ on repeat: Doomsday - Lizzy McAlpine

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ word count: 1,232

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ trigger warnings: death, lowkey stalking

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ summary: Reader dies and meets Wally + the rest of them

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

August 9th, 2012. First day of your freshman year. Your day starts off in your English class. Your outfit consists of a thrifted sweater, with a sherpa lined denim jacket on top. Your black stockings cling to your legs under your green corduroy pencil skirt. To top off the outfit, your feet are covered with a pair of old worn out converse, black leg warmers overlapping on the top of the shoes.

As you make your way to class, you get a sudden chill. You shake it off, continuing to walk. That sudden chill was Wally.

When he saw you, he audibly said “Oh my god.”

Then he started following you. He followed you from class to class, going as far as to sit in on a couple of them just to stare at you. He walked you to class every single day, knowing you weren’t even aware of his existence. But he didn’t care, he got to see you and that’s what mattered to him. He enjoyed spending time with you, even if it was one sided.

Then May rolled around, and the school year ended, and Wally was alone. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

August 9th, 2013. First day of your sophomore year. The same thing happens all over again, rinse and repeat with your junior year, and now your senior year.

It was January 1st, 2016. Five more months, and he would never see you again.

He is snapped out of his memories by the voice of Charley.

“You’re thinking of her again, aren’t you?” Charley registers what's going on, realizing his friend is still swooning.

“Yeah. I can’t help it!” Wally leaned forward on the bleachers, resting his elbows on his knees and lightly intertwining his fingers.

“There's a very unlikely chance that she’s gonna-” Charley begins, but is cut off in the middle of his sentence by an ear piercing scream. The two ghost boys share a look, and begin searching for where the sound came from.

First, they found Rhonda, who was in the exact same boat as them. The first thing she said upon seeing them was,

“Did you guys hear that?”

Then they figured it would be a good idea to see where the massive mob of students were heading. That would most likely provide answers.

As they come across the scene it is not pretty. As it had turned out, the ‘very unlikely chance’ -in Charleys words- of Y/n’s death, had in fact happened. She had a similar story to Charleys, having died from being allergic to something. Apparently it was a bad allergy too, her body was almost unrecognizable.

Soon after they arrive, they spot a very frantic, panicked looking girl. She notices them looking at her and immediately runs to them.

“Can you see me?” She’s borderline yelling as she says this, her eyes wide and full of uncertainty. Wally lets himself take the sight of her in. She’s there. And she can see and hear him.

“Sure can, cherrypop.” Rhonda is the first to speak out of the three. Wally quickly steps forward.

“Ignore her, she’s like that all the time.” He rolls his eyes as he extends a hand to you.

“Wally Clark. Resident jock.” He flashes his toothy grin at you. You look puzzled for a second, then a look of horror and realization comes across your face.

“You’re.. Wally Clark? As in, died on the football field in ‘83 Wally Clark?” You look at Rhonda, registering who she is.

“And you’re…” You grab your hair, pulling at it lightly.

“This cannot be happening!” You take a deep breath, and try to compose yourself.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” You stare down Wally as you ask this, him being the only one you’ve really spoken to.

“You betcha.” He awkwardly shoves his hands in his letterman jacket pockets.

Once the four of you got back to the group, it had gotten around there was a new ghost. You’re greeted by Dawn and Mr. Martin as soon as you walk in. You all sit down, Wally grabbing a new chair for you almost immediately. When you sit down, a million questions are thrown at you.

“Whats your name?”

“How old are you?”

“How did you die?” And many more follow after.

“Guys maybe uh, chill a little.” Wally chuckles as he sees your discomfort.

“She seems a bit overwhelmed.” Oh what three and a half years of observation will teach you about someone. Wally knows everything about you there is to know. He stole your diary (“It’s not technically stealing.” was how he rationalized it to himself.) and has read it cover to cover at least three times. He had been watching you since the moment he saw you. He knew your body language. You glance at him with a small smile, silently thanking him.

“I’m Y/n,” You begin slowly, cautious at first.

“I was turning 18 in a week, but not anymore I guess. I died from an allergic reaction to blueberries. Someone put them in my food without telling me, I guess, and before I knew it I was here.” You tell your story, eyes not leaving from your fidgeting hands in your lap.

“So it was murder?” Rhonda asks, not beating around the bush whatsoever.

“Maybe- I don't know, I don't really care.” You shrugged your shoulders,

“I’m dead now, either way.”

The group seemed to be surprised by how fast you had accepted your death.

“Okay! Movie night anyone?” Mr. Martin hurriedly tried to move along the session.

As night rolled around, you tugged on Wally’s sleeve lightly. You being 5'3 and him being 6’3, he had to look down slightly to talk to you.

“What’s up?” He perks up as soon as he sees you.

“Where do I sleep?” You ask the question very quietly, as if you’re scared of him.

“Well, we don’t have to sleep, it comes with the territory of being undead. But if you want to,” He gestures towards the exit of the gym. As you walk down the hall with him, you realize something.

“My backpack! Stay right here!” You exclaim, and run to the cafeteria. Luckily, when you arrived it was there, safe and sound. You sighed with relief. Then you quickly ran back to Wally, who stood waiting for you. He led you to the teachers lounge, where there was a couch.

“It’s not much, but it’s something.” He smiles a little while he says this, playing with the gold chain around his neck. This was the first time you had realized it was even there.

“Thank you, Wally. For everything. You’ve been really nice today.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. He was stunned for a split second, but quickly hugged you back.

“Of course, I want to make sure you’re comfortable here.” You let go of him after a couple seconds of comfortable silence.

“Well, good night.” You get up on your tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek, ushering him out of the teachers lounge as soon as your lips disconnect from his face.

Wally walked away calmly for a second, then when he was sure he was out of your line of sight, he let his excitement grow. He ran down the halls, jumping to slap every door frame and doing heel clicks.

#writers #writers of tumblr #fic writing #my writing #school spirits #wally clark #wally clark x reader #wally clark x you

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justgowithitplease · 3 months

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The Only One Is You

Part: 1

Title origins: Kaleidescope - Chappell Roan

Warnings: Language, Mentions of death

Wally sat on the bench, watching his team, Split River Devils, go against another, chasing down the football field as the people in the stands cheer them on.

"Let's go, 20! Hey, watch 12, Watch 12!" He yells at his team, clapping his hands

"Hey, Wally, what's going on?" A voice behind him sounds. Wally whips his head around and his eyes meet the sight of his mother, scarf and hat adorned with the blue of the Split River High Devils uniforms

"Mom, you should not be down here." He says, more annoyed than concerned, turning back to look at the feild

"And you shouldn't be on that bench." His mother responds, looking up at the field from him as her eyes trace the plays the team was doing

"Where's Dad?" Wally asks as he looks back at the stands for a second before looking at his mother

"He's up there, and he agrees with me, OK?"

"Well, Mom, Coach wants me to rest my knee, so..."

"Well, you know what they say. You can rest when you're dead. Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No. No, don't... don't talk to the... OK, you know, Mom, he said he's gonna put me in later, so you don't have to worry about it."

"Later doesn't win scholarships, Wally. OK?" His mother says as she pats his shoulder

"OK, well, I think he's right."

"Honey, if Coach was always right, he'd be coaching in the pros and not benching high schoolers."

"He's still my coach, I'm gonna listen to what he's saying." Wally says

"You're a star, And he needs to play you. Now you just march over to him and tell him you're fine, all right? Tell him you want back in. And make me proud" His mother says before turning around and walking back into the stands. Wally looks back at her for a second and sighs before taking a drink of water, wiping off his neck with a towel. He pushes himself off of the bench and onto his feet.

As he walks towards where his coach is, he looks into the stands and locks eyes with the love of his life. Her. Gorgeous beautiful perfect her. His perfect girlfriend, [Reader], was sitting in some of the back rows of the stand, a blue 57 painted on her right cheek, and one of his hoodies covering her torso. She was looking out at the field, eyes looking slightly concerned before they look at him. She grins, pinching her bottom lip between her teeth slightly. She waves her hand and yells out his name, her voice getting lost within the many screaming others.

He waves back excitedly, raising his eyebrows twice in mock-flirting before lowering his hand jogging over to his coach.

"Hey coach, put me in." Wally says to his coach, grabbing his helmet and mouth guard

"Wally, your knees been acting up and I can't risk my star player." his coach, Coach Jervis, says

"it's better now." Wally tries to convince his coach "and we're down five points I can get us back triple in no time."

"...fine. but at the first sign of pain, you run your ass off the field." His coach says before calling a time

Split River High's football team, the Devils, runs to the sidelines at the Time-Out buzzer. They all grab their water bottles and clatter around the coach, eager to hear what's going to happen

"Okay. Team. Freund, you're out. Clark, you're in. We'll do play 6." The coach says, his words being met with cheers by the team. The referees call for the timeout to end, and the team runs out onto the field.

Wally puts his mouth guard and helmet on, then turns to the stands and waves at his girlfriend again, eyes attempting to memorize the way her face looks at him. As if to tell him to go sit down. He shakes his head 'no' softly, blowing her a kiss before running out onto the field. He sees her smile softly and blow him one back before he turns around.

As the teams line up against each other, Wally sees the other teams defense, including a large and broad shouldered blonde boy, who was glaring daggers into Wally's soul. Wally feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but he puts it out of his mind, focusing on the play.

The buzzer sounds, and his team Members infront of him call out what play they're doing before the ball is tossed backwards to him. As soon as the ball is in his hands, he's running for the end-zone. He's sprinting with all of his energy, the game almost over. And his knee starts to hurt, but he's almost there. He keeps running through the pain, and he hears the cheers from the stands.

He reaches the five-yard-line, and his knee falters for a second. He feels something hard hit him, and he hears a crunch, and he's laying on the ground, the blonde boy from the other team next to him. There's screams from the stands, ones filled with curse words and ones filled with terror flying around.

"Hey! Hey, hey! I-i-i'm good, people!" Wally sat as he stands up and waves towards the stands, rubbing his neck slightly. But no one seems to see him do that, they're all focused on the defensive player who's getting up and screaming right now.

"D-dude? What's wrong are you hurt?" Wally asks the defense player. He tries to grab his helmet to make sure he has air, but it remains on his head. But there's also the same helmet in his hands. It's like it's a copy he just created.

"What the fuck...?" Wally mutters to himself. He looks up at the screaming stands again, and tries to be heard by anyone out there.

"HEEEEEYYYY! HEY! IM RIGHT HERE!!" He screams at the top of his lungs. He sees his teammates on the field all take off their helmets and surround something on the field. He looks at his team, then back at the stands where his mom is running down from. Wally ultimately decides that he'll meet his mom on the field, so he heads over to his team, trying to see what they're looking at. He finds a gap, and looks to the centre of the circle. He can see the blue of a Devils jersey, but that raises more questions

'The whole teams here' he thinks 'who the fuck is that?'

He looks towards the face of the mysterious Devil's player, and drops the helmet in his hands. His hazel eyes stare at the sky, empty and unmoving like his body. Wally feels something constricting his throat, stopping his breathing. He grabs his neck and tries to take deep breaths as he takes steps backwards.

He looks over to the sidelines, and he sees his mom and girlfriend running over. He runs over to them and tries to hug [Reader], but a copy of his hoodie comes off in his arms as he passes through her. He looks down at his hoodie, then back to where [Reader] and his mom were running. They break through the crowd of teammates and see his body.

[Reader] freezes for a second before dropping to her knees and gently pulling Wally's body's shoulders and up into her lap

"...baby? Baby that's not me..." wally says softly as he walks over "baby that's not me and you know it..."

But it seems like no one can hear him. Not even [Reader].

"Wally, baby. Cmon. Wake up sweetheart." His mom says as she gently pats the side of his face

"Mrs. Clark I don't think he's gonna respond..." [Reader] says softly

"Shush, girl. He's my son. lemme tend to him." Mrs. Clark says

"But-" [Reader] tries to protest before being cut off by ambulance sirens

Wally listens to this conversation, nervous as to what's going on. Was this some sort of accidental astral projecting thing while he was knocked out? Did his friend slip him some weed earlier and not tell him?

All those thoughts are cut off by ambulance sirens as one rolls onto the field. The paramedics shoo everyone away and one starts to examine Wally's body as another rolls out a gurney.

"Is he gonna be okay?" His mother asks, which is met with a look between the paramedics

"You should come with us." The paramedics say "Does he have any other family that should come with us or could meet us at the hospital?"

"Yes. His dad and...Just his dad." His mom says, giving [Reader] a side glance for a split second

"What?! Mom now isn't the time for your bullshit vendetta against [Reader]!" Wally yells at his mother as he looks between his mother, his body on the gurney, and his girlfriend who doesn't seem all there right now.

"Mrs. Clark, where are they taking him." [Reader] says, eyes glassy and dazed over, her voice airy and detached

"Nevermind you, girl. Go home." Mrs. Clark says harshly

"Please-" [Reader] tries to protest

"HOME!" Mrs. Clark screams at the girl as she walks over to the ambulance

[Reader] looks at the ambulance as it starts to drive away, then back at the emptying stands, and the teachers and referees guiding everyone out. She slowly walks forwards towards the stadium exit, eyes glossed over and body shaking like it was a blizzard outside.

"Baby cmon. You can't let her talk to you like that!" Wally yells "and why can you hear me?! Goddamned it! Not even you?!"

Wally chases after her, still holding the copy of his hoodie. [Reader] crosses her arms and walks out of the stadium, towards the road towards the front of the school where her car was parked.

"Baby this isn't FUCKING funny! GODDAMN PLEASE JUST LOOK AT ME!" Wally screams as he follows his girlfriend, who seems unable to tell that he is there at all

"[READER] COME ON!" Wally yells again, trying to grab the hood of his hoodie she was wearing, but ending up just making dozens of copies

[Reader] walks towards the road and stops at the curb. Wally stands right behind her, pleading for her to turn around.

"Baby please I'm sorry for yelling. Just turn around and everything will turn back to normal. Baby please. [Reader] I'll do anything you want. I just need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that I'm not crazy and that everything's gonna be okay...please..." he begs as [Reader] looks up and down the road, making sure none of the student cars are coming.

He sees her take a step down from the curb and towards her car. He steps forwards to try and grab her, but he appears back on the field.

"...the fuck?!" Wally says.

He turns towards the stadium exit and runs out of it, and towards where [Reader]s car was parked. He sees her in her car wiping her eyes as she sobs.

"[Reader]!" He says as he tries to run over to her car. But as soon as he steps off the curb he's back at the stadium.

So he tries again.

And again.

And on the fifth try, it feels like someone shot him.

"FUCK!" He screams, gripping his chest, tears welling in his eyes "Goddamn..." The pain quickly subsides, and he could very much try again, but he doesn't. The third try you had already left. The fourth try everyone was gone. He's alone on school grounds now, with no one to comfort him, and no idea what in the hell was going on.

#wally clark #wally clark x you #school spirits #wally clark x reader

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milo-manheim-luver · 1 month

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no because why do i come up with the saddest stories? 😭

reader is wally’s gf in high school and is pregnant with his child when he dies. but then wally gets to watch his child go through high school? idek 😭 but like IMAGINE. and then sees reader when she goes to school/sporting events. like he’s always looking over them both. after all those years. and then maddie comes along and can give a message to reader from wally?

also i didn’t forget about the milo fic. it’s under peer editing rn as i type. it should be out tomorrow! <3

#milo manheim x reader #milo manheim #milo manheim one shot #milo manheim x fem!reader #milo manheim x y/n #milo manheim x you #milo manheim fanfiction #milo manheim imagine #wally clark #wally clark x reader #wally clark x reader angst #wally clark x fem!reader #wally clark x you

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fangirlproblcms · 1 year

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you make me feel like i’m living a teenage dream ✨

#saw someone asking for this #look if they’re not endgame or i’m setting myself up for failure again i’ll jump 😃#i love them so fucking much you have no idea #school spirits #maddie x wally #wally x maddie #waddie #maddie and wally #wally and maddie #maddie nears #wally clark #peyton list #milo manheim #zombies #zeddison #cobra kai #keenry

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derit-s · 1 year

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Dear God is there a piece of media where Milo Manheim gets the girl and does not have spray painted green hair......... Is that too much to ask

#He keeps appearing every show I've seen this week and every time I think. Well how can you not make this guy the main love interest #And every time I'm wrong #NOW WALLY TOO #Come onnn enough best friends who are in love with each other can best friends just be friends for ONCE #There was so much potential there #Oof #Zombies #Prom pact #(I did not expect him to date the mc there to be fair but it did start the pattern of my week hsgsj)#doogie kamealoha m.d.#school spirits #wally clark #wally x maddie #nico alexander #Zed #Milo Manheim #How can you have this charismatic charming 6'2'' blue eyed golden retriever energy boy in your show and misuse it so bad!!!!#I'm at episode 7 of school spirits but I cannot go on I can feel the Simon is in love with Maddie reveal from here #Fed talk

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aphrodisiaexotica · 13 days

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content.

‼️DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST, OR USE MY WORK. I DO NOT GIVE YOU MY PERMISSION. ‼️

where you‘ll find all slutty fantasies i’ve created 💞

feel free to request<3!

⛧ rafe cameron

-saying i love you during sex blurb nsfw

-jealousy finger bang blurb nsfw

-toxic!afab!reader x toxic!rafe blurb nsfw

-accidents happens blurb nsfw

⛧ jj maybank

coming soon!!

⛧ christopher sturniolo

coming soon!!

⛧ wally clark

coming soon!!

⛧ stu macher

coming soon!!

⛧ jake webber

-spotlight

-selfishly

⛧ zach justice

coming soon!!

⛧ colby brock

coming soon!!

⛧ specials

coming soon!!

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berriwritertingz · 2 months

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the summer i wrote masterlist

content: future smut, fluff, angst, basically all of it

pairing: milo manheim x afab!reader & ross lynch x afab!reader

summary: every summer, you travel to dahlia's beach to reunite with your mother's closest friend and her son. but this year he unexpectedly brings a friend along. caught in the gentle waves of affection and longing, you find yourself navigating uncharted waters where the boundaries of friendship blur.

notes: this is loosely based on the summer i turned pretty. i just watched the second season and lawwwd i wanted to make a ff soo bad. plus milo and ross have absolutely none anywhere.

one

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murdrdocs · 5 months

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oh wally clark would take so much pride in his little cheerleader gf wearing his letterman jacket everywhere

oh absolutely.

you're in your devil's uniform, the blue complimenting your skin tone perfectly, the cheerleader uniform hugging you in all the right places. and wally already thinks you look fucking phenomenal. but there’s one thing missing.

he tells you as such, leaning against your locker as he eyes you up and down, pretending to be looking for something when he knows exactly what it is. at first, you're adamant that you have everything you need, even turning your head to show the ‘57’ painted on your cheek.

but wally shakes his head, pouting as he squints. “no. there’s definitely something.”

you even go as far as to look at the mirror in your locker, but when you turn back to wally, he has his letterman jacket open for you to slip your arms into and you rolls her eyes.

“i thought i actually forgot something, wally,” you confess as you slip into the jacket, instantly snuggling into the too-big material. “you’re a jerk.”

wally turns you around with hands on your shoulders, using his grip to pull you closer. he presses his hands to your middle back, pulling you even closer until your chest touches his, and then he smiles down at you, big and cheeky. “but i’m your jerk.”

you pretend to be upset but you're still the one who initiates the kiss.

and for the rest of the day, wally ogles at the sight of you in the jacket. you wear it better than him, especially paired with the cheer uniform and the bow in your hair.

by the end of the day, he stares at you again, now warranted as you're talking to him about a new movie you two should go see, but he realizes that something is missing this time. all you need is the gold necklace wally wears 24/7, another thing of his he’s willing to share with the girl he loves.

#wally clark x reader #wally clark x you #wally clark fluff #school spirits #celeste writes misc #wally clark

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clarks-letterman · 9 months

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VHS Tape 1A - "Sleepover" | Wally Clark x Male!Reader

a/n – THIS is what sent me into a writing slump but lets hope i conquered it by finishing this

Summary – Last night, Wally invited you to a sleepover as a joke, but things turned serious by the end of the night.

warnings – drinking, sex, mentions of anal, oral (wally receiving), pre-death!Wally Clark, dirty talk, 18+, he might be a tad bit ooc!

words — 6.1k

~~~

Life was something that, to you, needed to be treated with the same level of thought and care as with anything else contained within it. You tried to be mindful of your grades at school, steered clear of any and all uses of drugs, especially the lethal ones, and kept your inner circle small for the most part. The teachers addressed you the same way you did them, on a first-name basis. You had practically secured a spot on the faculty-designated pages of the yearbook. That’s why, when Wally's constant teasing about the night you stayed over at his house started up, you almost didn’t believe him.

There was a black spot in your memory, a time when nothing existed to you, but something was there that he knew of. You tried to think back to the moments leading up to everything that had happened, things you knew for sure. It was the Friday before a huge exam that would take place on Monday of the following week, and a folded-up note was passed to you in fourth period–Psychology–from the back of the class. While the teacher was turned away, you carefully unfurled it to get to the message inside. To you, the plans for that night seemed normal enough–a sleepover study session to cram in as much information for the exam with enough booze to calm everyone’s nerves, as explained by Wally’s messy and strung-together letters on the note. It felt a little counter-intuitive, but he insisted on supplying the alcohol. He claimed that it would help encourage others in the class to show up and take their academics seriously, and you were inclined to believe his words. Who didn’t love free drinks and a jock with a nice house to get wasted in?

That was your first mistake, and the second came when he invited you over the day after the so-called sleepover. He flooded your landline with numerous calls, excitedly telling you all about how he got everything from last night on film and that he would be over to pick you up soon. The mere sight of his house from the windshield of his Cutlass jogged your memory. You remembered hesitantly walking up to his door, textbook in hand with a look of awe as you ogled at his house’s exterior. Typically middle class with a clean front exterior combining brick on the first floor and light blue paneling on the second. His house extended into a two-door garage, but both doors were closed the night you went. And the next morning, one was open as he pulled into the right side of the vacant garage. The door slid down behind you, sounding exactly how you wanted the VCR to when Wally inevitably played back last night’s events on tape. Once it shut, the only light emanated from his beamers on the front and back-ends. The light forming a clearing from the shroud of darkness in the room felt exactly like your memory. You knew where to go to learn the truth, and now, it felt like you didn’t know how to turn back.

In the passenger seat, the armrest between you and him wasn’t the only thing separating the two of you. From what Wally hinted at on the ride over, you two seemed to be on the same page last night, and he didn’t mean the textbook.

You sighed, piecing together your own path leading away from it all, “Do I really want to know what happened last night?”

“You definitely do. It was legendary!” Wally insisted.

“As long as it’s not embarrassing…”

If you went into his house, you ran the risk of remembering something you could have lived your whole life not knowing about; something you might end up wishing to forget. But the thought of what exactly happened was too tempting not to find out. How bad could it be? The only way to find out would be to watch it and see what looks like you do things you couldn’t recall.

Wally casually placed a hand on your thigh, “Hey, we were both pretty drunk. And after watching the tape this morning, I can confidently say, I would do everything on it all over again.”

“Pfft. You held the camera, I bet you’re barely in it.” His hand felt out of place, like seeing someone place their palm on an open burner on the stove. Any heat from before didn’t boil over into this morning, though, including your worries leading up to the moment you arrived at his house.

“I was basically your co-star! Here–let’s recreate it.” Wally hopped out the driver’s side of the lowrider, rounding the hood of the car and opening your door. He offered out a hand, but you didn’t take it.

His garage door didn’t stay closed for long, as he had the perfect plan to reenact the interaction that started it all.

“I’ll head in through the door in here, you go to the front door and I’ll be there to answer,” he directed. You did as he said, taking the little paved pathway to his house, picking up on the littlest of details in his front yard to see if anything rang a bell. Nothing. The same could be said as you knocked on his door–the vibrant red facing you with a gold handle and lock above it to fit a jagged-cut Clark house key. The anxious feelings you got standing at his door less than twenty-four hours ago didn’t pull your stomach into knots this time. It was like your body had lived through the feeling of resolve–maybe a forgotten rejection–but your head was still catching up to all of those feelings.

A few seconds went by and you heard the lock click out of place, followed by the door swinging open with the turn of the handle. He answered the door in the same way as he had before: an arm raised above his head, leaning against the door with it and greeting you with a wide smile. The only difference was his clothing. Last night, he donned dark-colored jeans and a forest-green jumper. Today, he wore a lighter shade of blue denim for his pants, mostly to keep it from clashing with his white tee-shirt and navy blue letterman jacket he earned from his dedication to football. On top of his head, he wore a black baseball cap, turned one-hundred and eighty degrees to face backward. There was one accessory missing that greeted you with its eye at the door as well–Wally’s camera. You remembered the video camera he had been waving around in your face when he answered the door. He claimed that it was a gift he received earlier that day and wanted to take it for a test run.

He practically used it as his way of seeing, his way of looking at you, and memorializing something as simple as studying. It felt a bit insincere the first time around like he was just doing it for the proof that he was a nice person to everyone, not just his football team. But right now, you felt more attended to, more cared for by his brown eyes not hidden behind a video camera. Even with his forgiving and welcoming nature, it couldn’t keep you from recalling the meandering conversation you had when you first arrived.

“Remember… anything?” He held the ‘er’ longer than the awkward silence lasted as he moved out of the doorframe, waiting for you to enter the lion’s den. You shook your head, “Just that your house is nice and all.”

The memories started to slowly fade in as he took you inside with him. His house let you in and welcomed you with a warm foyer, brightly lit from floor-to-ceiling windows and thin drapes pulled back to let the light seep in. The furniture, from the kitchen to the living room, looked well lived in, but it hadn’t lost that cozy feeling. There were still many more memories to make on them, but you were concerned about one in particular.

He led you to the same brown leather couch that you felt vaguely acquainted with, and you took a seat on the left end of the couch. He took the right side and left the middle cushion vacant. A mismatched, wavy-patterned chair sat turned to face the couch and the coffee table caught in the crossroads of both directions. You noticed the walls were white with pastel blue accents. Images of ships at sea and framed family photos fill the space between the windows in the room, which made it feel like Wally stared at you from every angle you could think of. Simply looking to the end table to your left brought him closer to you, and when you turned to look at the older version of the man in the photo, he had scooted over to the middle seat.

“I got the tape.” He said. Wally flashed the tape in your direction, looking proud of his creation. In those brief moments, you were able to see the word Sleepover crudely written in black Sharpie. He had already given a title to his film, and maybe you should have been happy that it wasn’t your name followed by the description of something abject.

“Well, put it in!” Your hands waved him off the couch and toward the large entertainment center. At first, it was easy to mistake it for a closet, but as Wally pulled away the two panels in the front, you knew it to house a boxy television. On the shelf below it is a VCR and it’s remote, and on the shelf below that, speakers.

While he put the tape in, you tried channeling any memory of last night from the couch, since you remembered it as the first landmark–besides his kitchen–that would mean anything to you. The note, the car, the couch, the drinks, the textbook–all things you went over and over again in your head, but couldn’t quite figure out what path they were inescapably leading towards. Spontaneity may have been your downfall here, as one unexpected factor revealed on the tape could change the direction the night had gone in. Wally reclaimed his seat on the couch, directly next to you. The tape whirred in the machine as its innards stretched and rolled around various corners to relay its evidence of last night.

The first minutes are nothing much to gawk at. Wally showed himself recording in a mirror, seemingly testing out the device until a knock played out. Holding the camera at chest height during your conversation, he answered his front door as expected. You exchanged greetings and he welcomed you inside.

“Where is everyone?” Watching the recording of yourself felt different. It wasn’t weird or confusing, but you started to notice things about yourself that you wish you could have done in a better manner.

Wally was hidden behind the camera as he spoke, keeping it focused on you. Maybe that’s why you noticed everything–because it was how he had seen it last night. His voice was louder than yours when he spoke thanks to how close the microphone on the camera was to him. “Oh, they’ll be here later. Is that good with you?”

“That’s fine. We’ll get a jump on studying.”

You wanted to cringe, is this how you really acted? Nervous and far too afraid to make a move that you sold yourself as a complete loser to compensate for it. This was a part you painfully remembered from last night but it looked better from your perspective. Looking at the observer to your right, he looked content with himself and the product he created.

You tried to hint that you wanted the jock to fast forward through this preluding embarrassment without giving away how you felt. If you were going to get embarrassed by things from last night, you might as well have seen the worst of it first. “Worst movie ever.”

“Ouch. Does that make me a bad director?” He played along.

“I think it’s just too boring, plus that one actor can’t say his lines right even if the script was in that book.” You note the textbook that you’re still holding on the screen, clutching it as if it were some kind of last-resort barrier between you and Wally. You refused to pay attention to what you were saying, so as not to feel more embarrassed. Thankfully, the director kept commentating over his home movie.

His gaze doesn’t break from the screen. “Harsh critic, I like it. Let me know what you think of the other lead, he seems pretty handsome.”

“It’s pretty bold to have the director star in his own film.”

“You’ll come around to the casting choices. There’s one scene later on that will blow your mind,” he smirked, looking over to you.

These were all things you remembered, and he didn’t seem to get the hint, so you asked him to skip ahead outright. “Mind fast-forwarding? To the good parts, I mean.”

Wally’s smirk dropped and he went back to following your command. He was supposed to be the one helping you live through your irretrievable actions, “Yeah, tell me when.”

Wally peeled himself from the couch, reaching for the remote and hitting one button on it a few times. The footage relayed across the screen became as much of a blur as it felt in your head. The speedy actions and jumps from when Wally would occasionally stop recording felt disorienting, but you noticed a brief flash of an alcohol bottle between shaky shots, “There!”

Wally’s stunning looks were on screen, and you deduced that you held the camera this time. You were in his kitchen, just one room over from his living room with a doorway connecting the two. The doorway, it was visible from your spot on the couch, located to the left of the television stand. Seeing the perspective of the camera made you think that you were standing relatively within the doorway, and Wally stood surrounded by the U-shape of his counter. The pearly white gloss of the counter reminded you of his smile–wide, perfect, everywhere.

The man with those pearly whites ducked below the counter to fetch a bottle of vodka–the sound of a small, whirring machine halting as a door opened played through the screen, suggesting that the Clarks had embellished a wine cooler into their base cabinets. Then, he reached up high to a pantry cabinet emerging from the wall, pulling out two shot glasses. The detail was fuzzy, but you could make out some various juices and zests already prepared for all the woo-woos and cold ducks two rebellious teenagers could want.

“What unit are we on again?” He asked, trying to make small talk.

You reminded him of what the teacher had written in chalk weeks ago. “Interpersonal attraction.”

“What’s that? I totally studied it, I just… forgot.” He said it as if it wasn’t his fault, and it still sounded virtuous as it re-rang in your ear from the stereo. A thought crossed your mind, that, maybe it wasn’t. He excelled at football and could get into college on that, so long as he steered clear of any injuries that would hold him back, which would mean that his grades just had to be good enough. Maybe he was simply a product of his environment, and you couldn’t really blame him for that.

“When someone only sees the positive side of things in a relationship,” you answered.

“I think this study session is going great.” He said while pouring the vodka into both shot glasses. He filled one higher than the other and rounded the counter with both in hand.

“That’s not it, and it really isn’t. We haven’t even gotten to the hard stuff yet.”

“I said I needed something to help us study. I positively think this will loosen you up a little.” Wally offered one of the shots to you, the last frame holding on his charming face.

The camera cut and the scenery around it changed again, but to something familiar. You were back in the living room you currently watched the tape in, but the table in front of you had been moved off to the side. His camera laid on top of it, capturing you and Wally sitting and facing each other, with your textbook on the ground, filling the distance between you and him. The bottle of alcohol had the cap twisted off, resting upright next to Wally, some cut-up limes scattered on a plate next to that, and your shot glasses next to them. Due to the quality of the camera, you couldn’t quite tell how much of the bottle was empty until Wally picked it up.

The angle at which he held it while decanting some into his glass answered your question. You and he must have made a dent in the bottle at that point, and your guard was likely lowered as you felt extremely comfortable around Wally. He topped off the shot glass with the clear courage. “If I get this wrong, this one’s yours.”

Expectedly, the question you fired his way was not met with an acceptable answer. Your mind was trying to think of each question like a teacher, how they would accept and consider his answer compared to other students’ responses. As you drank more due to his inability to take the class seriously, you started to slip away from that teacher mentality. This wasn’t the first time he wagered this bet, and it wasn’t the first time he lost, either. Whether it was intentional or on purpose, you held up your end of it. The video showed you preparing yourself for the shot, shaking out a smattering of salt from the castor, and readying yourself to drop the shot glass and lurch for the lime. Your hands felt almost shaky at his failure, knowing that you were bound to mess up the order of the steps.

He talked you through each step.

“Salt…” You could taste it on your tongue, even now. The same could be said for the saliva left on your hand from where you poured the salt out at.

“The shot…” The cold, thick rim of the glass felt indented into your lips. The feeling of the liquid going down your throat, burning as the dehydration set in lingered just the same.

“Then lime! Oh, yeah!” Wally cheered, looking proud of the teacher he had become to you.

You took a moment to let it sink in. Warmth on your face, soon to be everywhere. Courage building up from nothing into something that would perforate the cover of embarrassment.

Then, you looked down at the textbook. Your eyes alternated the pages beyond pages of information at your hands, having so much to pull from that you undoubtedly knew would be regurgitated on to the test, just less profoundly worded than its primary form. When you looked back up. . . had Wally always looked like that? His dark hair looked darker, and softer, like a fuzzy void to rake your fingers through. He did it just as the thought crossed your mind. No doubt he had to be feeling it, the way the buzz started to become the only voice in your head–a voice without reason, a voice known for speaking its mind.

“What three things make up the triangular theory of love?” You would have said it while halfway out the door, ready for embarrassment and tripping over your wordless apologies on the way out, but you were far too deep into his den to leave.

The answer was simple, and through the haze of last night, you still knew it–intimacy, passion, and commitment. Instead, he said, “You, me, naked.”

As you watched over yourself, you were taken aback by hearing his advances. But you were more ashamed of how you completely brushed it off less than a moment later. “Intimacy is one of them, yeah.”

“Okay, smart guy. I want to see you mess all these up.” He teased.

“You’re on.” He turned the textbook around so that it faced him, on your agreement.

“What is…” He flicked through a few pages and scanned over them briefly. “The reinforcement theory?”

“Uh, it’s when the person gets out something of equal or fair value in relation to what they put in.” You said, reciting it almost word-for-word as it was described on the page.

“Can you give me an example?”

It was hard not to utter the answer to yourself like you were watching a contestant on a game show, but even this one knew the million-dollar dinger. “An employee stays at their job because the pay–”

“A real example.” He interrupted. “Say… I kissed you. What could I get outta that?”

The confident and guided version of yourself from last night stood on their knees, almost crawling over to him as they could hardly keep themselves balanced. They looked so foreign yet so familiar–it was you without layers of fear and cowardice covering your most intimate feelings. Silence fell over the two of you as you fell into him, and then, the soft sound of kissing and pulling away played from the TV. The kiss felt straight out of a rom-com rental, but the moments following were pure and unabashed the-cashier-is-sure-to-check-your-ID-at-the- checkout pornography; you could tell when Wally’s jumper came off, and the kiss started to feel more heated than your face from the alcohol.

Next to you, you felt Wally slump forward on the couch, jutting out his hips. Your eyes stayed glued to the screen, almost entranced by what was happening, until you heard the sound of a zipper being undone. In your peripheral sights, Wally’s hands had undone his fly and the button of his jeans.

“Do you mind?” He asked. For a moment, you thought he meant the video. How he captured both of you embracing each other in a way that would be shown in Health class in the near future, likely titled Everything Not to Do In Sex. The headliner would be something along the lines of where not to touch your partner, as the actions playing out on screen were messy due to inexperience and the disorienting relaxation of being under the influence. He would probably end the viewing session by asking to smash the tape in his backyard or something along those lines, not what he had done instead.

“What–holy shit.” You turned to see his light blue denim and dark red boxers bunched further down along his thighs. He had his cock out, toying with it while it was still soft. His heavy balls sat low enough to rest on the cool leather of his brown couch, being pulled up as he tugged on his dick.

“What?” He refused to stop moving his hand. He kept going, almost at a faster pace when his eyes locked on to you in the present. Maybe you had everything all wrong. Wally wasn’t looking at this with regret, he wanted to enjoy last night. You knew he didn’t fully regret everything, as he stated earlier, but you thought he meant that he learned so much or had a fun night. Not this, and not with you of all people. What you were looking at felt like the result of a cheerleader helping the Split River Devils celebrate their big win of the night.

Your hand pointed out to the image displayed on the screen. Your eyes never once broke from his gaze as you spoke, “It’s me–it’s us–on screen.”

“I know,” he said. His voice stayed the same throughout.

You couldn’t fathom it–he liked it. “And you’re getting off to this?”

“We make a pretty good pair!” He tried to justify himself, finally breaking from the nonchalance to sound happy about it. You assumed that he must have not cared about whether or not you agreed with him, because he stood up seconds later. “Fuck, I have to make this feel better…”

You heard his footsteps grow quieter as he left the room, then returned with what sounded like a spring in his step. His dick flopped up and down as he paced around the couch and back to his proclaimed seat on the couch. In his hand is a silvery Pringles Light potato chip canister, emptied of its retail packaging and filled with two halves of a sponge to make a slit in the middle. “I’ve been blue-balling all morning since I saw this…”

And, suddenly, it became very, very real. He reached for some hand lotion on the table, squirting it into his fleshjack and then into his hand. He lathered the glob on his length, his hand finding a way to spread it along himself with only a few tugs. It was a sign that he was all for it, and you decided that you were, too. Before he could get too far into pleasuring himself, you offered him your hand. You placed it on his thigh, unsure of how far to go that would be considered too close. “I could help.”

“Really? No pressure or anything. I didn’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you, uh, see yourself doing.” He looked at the television again, and you thought that he might be right. If you felt differently about what you did last night after everything had already happened, you could leave. You could pretend that last night and the ensuing morning had never happened, and you could look at Wally the same as you always had–an unattainable crush.

“Really.” You affirmed, completely sure of doing something that you would never forget. The confidence from last night returned, your hand gravitating to his lotioned skin. It had barely sunk in, and it was slick on your hand, emitting a wet cry and earning a moan from Wally. You would have thought the lotion became astringent, as Wally’s thighs tensed and his breathing hitched.

“Are you okay?” You asked, hand freezing all movement on his warmth, but never letting go of it.

“Yeah, I’m just used to my hand doing this part.” He became familiar with it quickly, though. Your hand made haste with the motions of jerking him off. Wally tried to level himself out by slumping further down on the couch, making himself more of a flat canvas for your designs. “But I could get used to this.”

There was one feeling he couldn’t get enough of, though. As your hand skimmed up and down his shaft, it occasionally slipped up over the head of his mushroom tip and teased the sensitive surface. Every time that your hand happened to find its way to his peaking pleasure, his hips jerked up and brought your hand down his shaft, like a drop tower that wasn’t quite ready to plummet into the needy feelings of release. Wally groaned, his head rolling back on the upholstered support backing the leather backrest. His flipped cap nearly got pulled off the top of his head, a sign that could’ve been looked at as him losing his mind over how good it all felt.

You looked over at the screen, seeing things take a sharp turn as you had your legs spread over Wally’s thighs. His legs stuck out, used to the kind of stretching he found himself doing on the field for football practice, and you sat squarely on his upper thighs. One hand stayed glued to his face and slid down to his neck as you explored five percent of the surface, and your other hand journeyed into the deep blue of his jeans. The same hand cupped his growing heat; you could remember the faintest feelings of it now. When he became too big, too rigid for your hand to mold and keep from slipping through your fingers, your hand emersed from his denim confines. The motion kept flowing, though, when your ass had found a way to push him down as he presumably pushed up, an action you felt ready to mimic. His rudimentary fleshlight wouldn’t have to leave him wanting more, and you were sure to make it known.

While he was no longer new in the box, the barrier between the two of you gone and discarded in the recycling, you felt comfortable choosing to come out of yours. “I think I want you to fuck me.”

Just as you were about to step out of its confines, his words snaked around your wrists and tied you down to the box’s cardboard backing. Your motivation was restrained from where he drew the line. “Yeah, you might just want to use that sweet hand for now…”

“Why?”

“Uh, last night… we kind of did anal,” he groaned out. Suddenly, there was a cry from the TV that was unmistakably your voice, “I want you to fuck me!” Wally cleared his throat, “No, we definitely did.”

He stared down the television, entranced by its contents in a matter of seconds. The exact thing he said started to unfold. In the drunken misguidance, he had forgone lube to make the blur tinting his hindsight go a little bit faster. He carried the camera along his body until he held it in front of his face like he had when he first greeted you at the door. There was a slow, disorienting rise as he stood, showing just how tall he was. It was like the peak of the drop tower, when your stomach would twist into knots from knowing what was about to happen. You moved into frame, rubbing the bulge in his jeans as your hands rounded the waistband around to his backside, pulling his denim down.

From the view of its eye, it peered down at his torso wrapped in green knits, his cock quickly springing out and sharing the stage with your face right next to it. It was clear that your box had been perforated, and he was the cause of it.

“Oh, oh fuck. This is my favorite part–too bad my dick looks so fucking small. The TV just doesn’t do it justice, I mean come on! Look at how big it is!”

He must have been referring to the lingering shot of his dick. The camera was still panned down from Wally’s perspective to show his cock at full fuckable potential. He got up and stood next to the image of his dick, comparing the two. Just the sight of the one on his TV made you nervous, but shifting your gaze slightly reminded you that he was painfully bigger than he looked on camera. Eight millimeters of a film reel was such a small space to capture such a big thing on screen, and his twenty-six-inch TV could only do so much to blow up the image.

The picture went dark, and black filled the screen. Wally covered the camera and gave you stage directions on the tape. “Get on the couch, all fours. No. Yeah, yeah–like that.”

You felt a warmth press into your side, Wally rejoining you on the couch again. He held his hands up in the air like he was guilty of a charge you weren’t pressing, “Sorry, not my best work, I know.”

His hand pulled away from the lens. The quality was hazy, indiscernible in some things that it captured as the kitchen light behind Wally blocked his face. But you’re on full display, arching into his touch.

Wally tugged on his cock a few times before seizing all movement, “I could take you up on a handy–fuck, maybe a beej?”

“It might not feel as good as, you know.” You said, quickly averting your eyes from the television by fully shifting your body around and onto the floor. His legs were spread by habit but were now parted by necessity as you kneeled between them.

“A hole’s a hole, I won’t complain.”

His gaze only rested on you for a second, to line himself up at the sweet spot. The point of entry, a familiar place for his dick–your body–but a new place to explore–your mouth. He made sure you were on track to take him all the way down without teeth or a gag reflex getting in the way. One trip down to the base of his cock and he was already looking away, continuing the motion with a more forceful pace to make up for what he was missing.

He looked head-on at the sex tape, seeing the view of the camera as he tried to evoke as much of the feelings from last night from its point of view. Wally imagined the wet, shlurking mouth in front of him was your hole, ready to give the same abuse he gave to your ass last night. Kind words echoed from the TV. He was talking you through the pain and happily giving you pleasure when you started bouncing on his cock. He planned to mimic it at the moment, spouting on about ‘how good you took him’ and praises alike.

Then, he saw himself slamming his hips into you on the screen, your ass smacking against his hips in a way that really demonstrated just how fast he was going. Coupling it with your cries to go ‘harder!’ as you took him, he did it from your past command. You couldn’t speak with a mouthful of him, but he treated it as something you wanted now. Wally shot up from the couch, standing and taking you with him.

His eyes were trained on the screen, moaning as his hands took over from your control. In your peripheral vision, he had propped a leg up on the coffee table to fuck, not just guide you down his length. He would have done the same with his fleshlight and your hole–bending them over the table and fucking them senseless. Your mouth, and now as he reached it, your throat, were treated like those two. His hiked leg flexed and he jutted his hips forward, his pubes bristling your nose and his swinging balls plapping against your chin. Soon, as he plowed your mouth, the sound of him face-fucking you overtook the sex on the screen.

It wasn’t until the sound of you blowing a load of hot white over his chest as he did the same inside of you did he feel fully immersed in last night’s acts. He buried himself deep in your throat one final time and made you swallow what you could, taking a minute to register that he wasn’t fucking your ass.

His hands let go of your head and you pulled off, his come running down your chin and dripping onto him and the carpet. “Jesus, that was a lot…”

Wally handed you some tissues that he must have been expecting to use after watching this tape–since this wasn’t a film worth crying over–and patted the spot on the couch next to him. “How do you feel? Sorry if that was too rough.”

“You’re good, just throw in a warning next time?” You took a few tissues out of the box and cleaned up what you could. Wally filled his expected place on the couch, redressing himself quickly. He leaned towards the table he had just finished using as leverage to fuck your mouth with to get the remote. Silence filled the room as he paused the last few minutes of the tape.

“Deal,” he agreed. You took a seat in his lap this time after cleaning up, “So, is the ending gonna ruin the whole thing?”

“I, I wouldn’t recommend watching it.”

“Seriously? We basically watched the whole thing, let’s see it!” You took the remote from him, hitting the button shaped like a triangle to let it play.

Wally started speaking almost right after the sex on-camera was over, “How do you feel? Owned? Like a good boy–”

Wally lifted the neck of his letterman, burying his face into it as he heard himself say those words. It was good to know he wasn’t happy about everything from last night, but you kind of liked hearing him say it. At least you had proof to get him to do it again.

You were quick to cut him off, though. “Like I’m gonna hurl.”

You swiped the remote from the table, pausing it just as you walked out of frame. “I left because I puked?” “Motion sickness. My fault, some people just can’t handle a long ride.”

#x male reader #x reader #gay #fanfiction #wally clark #wally clark x you #wally clark x reader #wally clark x male reader #wally clark x male!reader #fanfic #milo manheim x male reader #milo mannheim #milo manheim x reader #can milo manheim get some recognition puh lease #school spirits x male reader

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sky-is-here · 1 year

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Don't think about how Maddie doesn't have her necklace anymore. And don't think about how Wally still has his. And also don't think about Wally giving Maddie his necklace not to replace the one she lost but to represent her ghost family. Don't you do it-

#seriously dont do it because it might just destroy you #i know its destroyed me #manifesting season 2 and this encounter because i need it #school spirits #maddie x wally #wally clark #maddie nears

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lovemanheim · 1 year

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Please send requests in! I have no inspo currently!

Requests are open for the following people/characters

1. Wally Clark

2. Ben Plunkett

3. Nico Alexander

4. Zed Necrodopolis

5. Rafe Cameron

Things I will write

1. Fluff

2. Angst

Male X fem reader

Things I will not write

1. Smut

2. Anything dark

Fem X fem

Male X male

(I just can’t lol idk why)

Prompt list you can request from

1. “I love you, but please stop whatever it is you’re doing”

2. “STOP BEING SO CUTE, ITS NOT FAIR”

3. “You’re an idiot” “yeah but I’m your idiot”

4. “Make me”

5. “You make me so unbelievably happy”

6. “You didn’t call, you didn’t next, nothing”

7. “You know we’re meant to be”

8. “ you’re seriously like a man-child”

9. “It was a joke, baby. I swear”

10. “ mine”

11. “Are you even listening to me?”

12. “Is that my shirt?”

13. “ You’re kinda cute, you know… only kinda”

14. “Just marry me already”

15. “It’s too cold! Come back”

16. “Gimme a kiss, my love”

17. “Hold my hand” “what?” “ just hold it”

18. “Can we get a dog?” “We have a dog” “ I know. I want another”

19. “She did it!” “No he did!”

20. “Oh shut up and kiss me already”

21. “Wait a minute, are you jealous?”

22. I never thought I’d find a love like this”

23. Leave me alone, the only thing I’m embarrassed by is your lame attempt at being cute!”

24. “Baby, please let me in. Im sorry”

25. “Too bad, baby. You’re stuck with me”

26. “You’re honestly really freaking cute when you’re jealous”

27. “Can I Kiss you?”

28. “Wait, you’re leaving already?”

29. “Why am I always the one carrying you?”

30. “ okay, what are you doing in a Spider-Man onesie, in my bedroom?”

31. “You make me feel safe”

32. “PILLOW FIGHT”

33. “God, you’re beautiful. My pretty girl”

34. “No, you can’t get up! You’re my prisoner for the day!”

35. “I had a rough day and all I want right now is to cuddle with my girl”

36. “God you’re cute” “you think I’m cute?”

37. “ you’re legally obligated to keep holding me”

38. “Sweet girl. Am I your lock screen?” “You werent supposed to see that”

39. “Do you like it?”

40. “I’ve never seen you so nervous”

41. “In our defense, we were left unsupervised”

42. “I can’t help it, you’re fun to mess with”

43. “ Don’t shut me out, please”

44. “Stay away from me”

45. “I saw that, you totally just checked me out”

46. “I literally cannot say no to you. It’s impossible”

47. “Forgive me, please. I need you”

48. “Hey— look at me. You can talk to me”

49. “Did you just flinch away from me?”

50. “Do it. I dare you”

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bonebrokebuddy · 2 years

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-Alright I’ve been tagged by @stealingyourbones to do the WIP Challenge. Rules Here!

Feel free to ask me about any of them and I’ll be happy to let u know what it’s about! :D (please i need encouragement to write about them and I don’t want them to be left in WIP hell forever)

Most of these didn’t previously have titles so I’m going to make them up as I go with some having brief summaries.

As I have chronic carpal tunnel so many (but definitely not all) of these are generally short prompts or fic outlines I need to iron out but many have surpassed 3k so I can safely declare some as fics. And there’s a Lot of stuff here so sorry that this is super fucking long but I’m still not including a shit ton of ideas so I can keep it under 100 for now.

I focus a lot on world building and ideas just keeps expanding to the point where I feel like I can’t write it out without having to explain everything else & so I tried splitting them into the smaller ideas & hopefully that’ll help!

@die-erlkonigin6083 ur being tagged now:

Ok so my written ones:

- Stuck In An Adventure: (Wally West getting stuck in a The Adventures of Superman reminiscent universe (radio show that ran from 1940-1951)).

1) Fawcett City: Through A Child’s Eye:

1.a) Sovereign Nation

1.b) Child Logic: A Brief Rundown of How Things Work in Fawcett City In This AU.

1.c) F’s in Math: Fawcett City Education Standards

1.d) Childlike Misconceptions (x40 I have so many ideas about this)

1.e) Fawcett City Food Culture

1.f) Plan to get Captain Marvel back into continuity in a way that's entertaining, makes sense, and would keep it relevant in the DCU while being able to keep more of it’s original Golden Age tone and make the worldbuilding so much cooler.

1.g) Currency of an allowance

1.h) Robbing Bank Customs

1.i) Issues With The Education System

1.j) Magic Taught In Fawcett Educational Programs

1.k) Medicine & Injury Differences In Fawcett Citizens

1.l) Ambient Knowledge of the Radio & Past Lives: Billy Batson

2.a) Booster Gold. An Exploration into a Modern Version Adaptation of His Online Rise to Fame and His Downfall

2.b) Booster Gold: TikTok Sensation (this is kinda fused with the one above but is more lighthearted in tone)

3) Booster Gold: The Backstory and Rant About an Underappreciated and Massively Relatable Hero.

4) Billy Theorizing Back.

5) Linda Finding Out She Had Twins (but retold based on a real story)

6) The Daily Planet’s Gossip Mill

7) The Worries of the Daily Planet Employees over the one & only Clark Kent/ The Daily Planet thinks Clark’s a Meta but for Different Reasons Than You Might Think.

8) Jimmy Olsen Needs Therapy

9) The Softness Behind A Mask

10) Office Gossip

11) An Electric Charge: All Powered Up

12) Psychic/telepathic Clark (apparently this was a fairly uncommon but still very much existing fan theory that I just thought of independently. But once I found out that it already existed, I lost hope and stopped writing it but it's Very much a theory I enjoy and love that explains literally most if not all of Clark’s abilities.

13) “You mean, you Don’t actually look human?!

14) SO MANY KRYPTONIAN BIOLOGY IDEAS:

14.a) FUN (x so many just give me a number and I’ll give you a certain amount of short prompts for kryptonian biology ideas)

14.b) Inconvenience for the Kents

14.c) Braces

14.d) Biology Discussion

14.e) Different Nutritional Needs. Turns Out Invulnerable Teeth Mean You Can Eat A Lot Of Weird Shit

14.f) Humans stood on two legs to punch things. Why the fuck did kryptonians have the same

14.g) Eyes: Windows To The Soul The Size Of An Orange

15) Man of Steel, Unable to Feel: The issue of Clark’s the association of pain with touch.

16) A brief complaint on the lack of depictions of Batman’s Diet and Workout Regimine in fics because there’s so much comedy potential

17) A Meal Even The Flash Won’t Eat: Bruce’s Protein Shakes

18) Inside-out Space and Time (Dissecting the rock of eternity & it’s ability to travel time without the Speed Force)

DP X DC:

18) Critique on DP x DC twin AU

19) Guide on realism in twin interactions for twin au fics & how twins actually work.

20) Jason Todd’s Fenton Family Reunion

21) Discussion of Theme Similarity of 90’s Superboy and the Danny Phantom Cartoon.

22) A Summoning Going Dead Wrong (an ask commandeered from @stealingyourbones that got stuck in WIP hell and is FINALLY nearly done. I just need someone to unfuck my formatting & it’s all set.)

23) Wait What Do You Mean There’s Two Of You?

24) DP x DC What Do You Mean You Thought This Was A Nuclear Blast Zone?: Explaining the Metagene’s Existence in Amity Park, How Amity Park Was Hidden from the DC World, and the Discovery of It Not Being A Wasteland.

25) A Brief Reminder of Death and Revival: Blood Blossoms in Gotham

Based off of this post (which I am making a reply to but i gotta generate more ideas that fit with the theme first. Got the lore part done tho which is nice)

26.a) Wally West trips into the Backrooms.. wait why’s it all floating and green?

26.b) Speedsters can get healed by GZ

26.c) Speedsters get hurt by GZ contact

26.d) Speedsters gain extra powers when in contact with GZ

26.e) Too Much Of A Good Thing: Ectoplasm Overload (Flash Family)

26.f) How The Fuck Is This Working: Bafflement of the Fenton’s Building Conventions (Flash)

26.g) Lichtenberg AU Flash x DC (x2)

27) Familiar Branching Scars: Lichtenberg AU Captain Marvel x DP where I go way into specifics of magical theory and magical lab procedure than I should’ve

28) Danny’s Not Alive: The Issues That Come With Collecting a Ghost’s DNA

29) Ambient Ectoplasm Quality Warning: Health effects can be immediately felt by sensative groups. Healthy individuals may experience difficulty breathing and throat irritation; consider staying indoors and rescheduling outdoor activities. Please retreat to the GZ for your own safety.

30) tired TA Peter Parker who works a job at a university sponsored lab doing microfluidics

31) College Wally West complaining to his friends about his lab job & the difficulties trying to be a “real scientist”

32) They didn’t tell you being a Clone would come with an inferiority complex and the necessity to tell everyone around you that Not The Same Person Don’t Compare Us (yet I still I want to stand by their side and not in their shadow). (Kon-El)

Brainworms i need to write but have them recorded in my audio app & not transcribed yet:

33) Dash & Booster Gold, Ex-Star Quarterbacks

34) Frozen in Time (DP and the Flash Family)

35) I’m Not the Black Flash!

36) Ghosts In Space (do x dc)

37) The Contrast of Life and Death (Flash Family x dp)

38) Inhuman amounts of Speed. (Flash)

39) Opposing Forces: Same Energy (flash family x dp)

40) Metagene: How the Activation of an Integrated Virus Changes That Much Shit if it Activates

41) A Ghost and An Alien Walk Into A Bar…ow

42) A Ghost from the Future: A Mentor in the Past (Bart Allen)

43) Billy Batson: learning magic theory

44) Jimmy Olsen: Traumatized Beyond Belief (Taos discussion about how the character is handled)

45) Jimmy Olsen: A Neglected Superfamily Core Member By The Fans

46) A Parental Bond and Parental Worry: Clark Kent & Jimmy Olson

47) Trust and Betrayal: Clark Kent Losing a Child’s Trust

48) Help I Think I Accidentally Adopted A College Student What Do I Do

49) A Brief Dissection of the Broad Symbols the DC Hero’s Stand For and Goals they Want: Personal Characterization Help

50) Anger Feels The Same As Happiness (The Feeling Is Just As Intense) (Bart Allen)

51) Shadows of the Future, Traces of the Past: Bart Allen is Not Okay (YJ cartoon)

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