Warnings: Idk

Milo Manheim

ahhh yes, just what I need at 3am

⋆·˚ ༘ * they nicknamed her ‘the bolter’

warnings: the ending is rushed, I ran out of inspo 😭

pairing: connor stoll x daughter of hades

connor stoll was notorious for torturing campers and pulling silly pranks. unfortunately you were one of the many campers that he had bothered by his stunts

it started back when you first got to camp and you were assigned to cabin eleven since you had been unclaimed. a peaceful evening, book open in your hands and the room was silent- rare for this cabin specially, but most campers had been at the campfire. you didn’t go along because it would have been awkward to sit by yourself so you stayed back, the silence was much needed anyways

things were never silent at camp half-blood though. the moment you were enjoying was interrupted by the younger stoll standing beside your bed (staring into your soul may I add)

you close your book and look up at him “do you need something?”

he stays silent, cheeks turning red by the second. the next you know his lips are on yours, this kids a total creep! when he pulls away he gives you one last glance before bolting out of the cabin

what the hell was that? you still don’t know to this day. but he hasn’t mentioned it since it happened so you decide not to bring it up

that was the first time he pulled a stunt on you, and after that it was relentless. however the pranks he would pull would always be much less intense than the ones you had seen around, simple things.

your book wouldn’t be in the same place you left it, notes pretending you had a stalker (you knew his handwriting though, he doesn’t fool you here), scaring you everytime you left the cabin, you once even woke up with a pile of dirt under your blanket, but that was nothing compared to the misery he would put everyone else in. so why does he go easy on you?

you wanted to talk to him for once, maybe have an interaction where you weren’t being pranked, that was the only time he spoke to you, never anytime else. why? you don’t know! this idiot won’t talk to you!

you got claimed months later by hades and moved out of cabin eleven to thirteen. after that you talked to him even less, occasionally you would sit at hermes table to have small conversations with him but you never got much words out of him unless it was a stutter or a simple ‘yes or ‘no’

today you were blessed with the opportunity to be the victim of his next prank. walking out of your cabin you got a bucket of black paint poured on you, you swear all your lives flashed before your eyes

you stand shocked, attempting to wipe the paint out from your eyes and when you opened them you see a half blurry connor in front of you

“I hate you” you hissed

connor’s frowns, a hint of guilt in his eyes. he hands you a towel before bolting yet again, he seems to do this every time, always leaving you after a prank

you pout and fight the tears begging to leave your eyes. you walk back in your cabin and clean off, three showers it took to remove the dark color. when you were finished you went to tonight’s campfire. you spot connor sitting alone and you take a seat beside him

“I’m sorry” he mutters “I’m really sorry”

you sigh “why did you do it?”

“It was on a dare, the kiss, travis made me. it slipped out that I liked you and he wouldn’t let it go. then he told me that the only way to get your attention and I don’t know, I thought it would work. I’ve never dated anyone before, I’ve never even liked anyone else before so I just followed whatever he said. I hated pulling those pranks on you, all of them, even if it was nothing, I don’t like seeing you upset, especially when I’m the reason for it. I really like you though, like really like you, and I want you to know that. It’s okay if you hate me, I would hate me too, I’m not trying to make you pity me, I just want you to know that I love you and you deserved an explanation”

“connor”

he looks up at you for the first time tonight, and you prepare yourself for your next action. you take the side of his face and pull him in for a kiss- this time not on a dare, and you cherish every moment of it. perhaps the pranks had been worth it

I finally found my freak omg guys (I’m talking to myself btw)

Freaky Ahhhh Headcanons

Wally Clark x AFAB!Reader

Warings: This is just pure smut. Oral (both giving and receiving) Overstimulation. Face sitting. Public Exhibition. Slight Dacryphilia. Kinda Rough. I think that's it.

-

This man is a Freak with a capital F. Jaw dropping, eyes rolling back, sheet grabbing, pantie dropping, pussy dripping freak. 

Munch Munch Munch, idc if it's an outdated term it’s the only way i can describe him. He’d have you on your back or stomach for hours while he lays between your legs. He won't stop until you’re begging and crying for mercy. (I need a lobotomy)

With that being said he would beg you to sit on his face. He doesn't care how light or heavy you are, he needs your full weight pressed against him while he eats you out from below. He’d make a complete mess of you. Have you doubled over, body limp as you try to pull your hips away only for him to pull you back down begging to make you cum just one more time. 

He’s a romantic but the poor guys been dead for 40 years and there aren't a lot of options in the school so forgive him if he's a little selfish at first. He’d absolutely destroy you, a rough brutal pace while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. 

On that note he's very vocal. Loves telling you how beautiful you are especially when you’re on your knees for him. “Fuck baby, you look so beautiful taking me down your throat like that.” Said as he wipes away the tears gently running down your face. (Again SOMEBODY SEDATE ME)  

After your first time together he wouldn't know how to keep his hands off you. The memory of you beneath him constantly playing on repeat in his mind. 

He loves the idea of showing you off and since the living cant see either of you he uses it to his advantage. He will fuck you anywhere and everywhere. Over a desk in the middle of an active class? Why the hell not? In the pool while the swim teams practicing? He's diving right in. Teachers lounge while the sad sacks sit around drinking coffee? Absolutely. 

Lets not forget about the resets. The body never changes aka infinite energy. Round after round after round. 

(Okay I’m done. I wrote this at work so sorry if it's shitty. Honestly I think I'm losing my mind. Like actually clinically insane. I think it’s time I call my therapist. Happy valentines day 😚 💞)

something i can't get out of my mind is how Milo admitted he's like his mom ("I like to be in control"), but there are people in his life who call him baby girl. a lot.

a dichotomy i'm obsessed with now.

ayeee ik that cookie good

Marshmallow Miles

summary: prompt fill. Wally needs to get the hell out of Split River. thankfully, he finds the perfect excuse and takes you along for the ride. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut lite. fluff. AU - everybody is alive (zesty). lore established offscreen. same 'verse as Cuddle Bug.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧁

Marshmallow Miles

Wally spent the last 40 years haunting the high school. Then spent the last few months within the town limits, adjusting to being a regular student while he got his second chance at life organized. Principal Hartman, Ms. Chung, and Mrs. Moretz—the guidance counselor—banded together to help the formerly-dead reacclimate, and part of that means they all need to graduate.

Except, obviously, Mr. Martin, who Sheriff Baxter's keeping a tight leash on. Or Janet, wherever the hell she is.

Point being, Wally and his friends are still tethered to the place they hate most in the world. Even if there is a light at the end of the tunnel this time, they don't get to enjoy it until they walk across the stage, diplomas in hand.

Which means Wally? Is feeling somewhat-very claustrophobic. Skin too tight, walls closing in, suffocated and nauseous at the thought of having to spend another goddamn second in the town that killed him.

It's as he's listening to you, hanging onto your every word like psalms, that the idea strikes. Light. Bulb. Wausau? Claire's stepdad's ski lodge? You don't say!

He knows your birthday's coming up (Simon made sure to stick post-it notes in every single one of Wally's text- and notebooks to remind him) and he's been fretting over what to do for weeks. But this? This is it! Not only will Wally be able to celebrate you the way you deserve, doing something you seem genuinely keen on, he'll be able to put Split River in the rearview for a whole week.

Is it a little selfish to use your birthday as an excuse to escape? Kind of, sort of, maybe. But he's desperate to find out if he can have a life beyond this. Beyond Split River High and Number 57 and tragedy and discombobulating rise-agains. And the only person he wants to find anything out with, well, is you.

It's two-birds-one-stone, honestly, and don't you always praise his efficiency? Hell yeah, you do. His biggest fan. Besides, he will dote on you, treat you right, make you feel like the center of the universe because you are. At least, you're the center of his, and that's why he has to do this. To prove there's a future with him that has more potential than cultivating small town syndrome.

You catch him grinning that dopey little grin he gets when he's thinking about surprising you, but Maddie distracts you before you can question it. Which gives Wally the rest of lunch to plot into his tater tots.

Thank you, Maddie. Best wingwoman ever.

‗•‗

The plan comes together seamlessly. Everyone pitches in to help bring Wally's vision to life. Claire gives him the keys to her stepdad's lodge. Maddie and Charley morally support Wally as he shops for warm clothes in your size that he can smuggle in his own luggage so you stay in the dark for as long as possible.

Nicole and Rhonda, the unlikeliest of best buds, drag him into The Body Shop and Victoria's Secret—"imagine a romantic bubble bath after skiing all day?" Nicole coos. "Imagine undressing her on a bearskin rug in front of a fire." Rhonda smirks around her new vape.

That's. Really. All the convincing Wally needs to make a dent in the allowance Rodney gives him.

Wally even swallows his pride, puts on his most charming smile, and asks Xavier for his truck. He knows the only reason Xavier agrees is because it's for you, but still, a win is a win. With a general, "hurt her and I'll rip your balls off," from your platonic soulmate, Wally joyfully departs. Tosses the keys in the air and catches them, his chest feeling lighter than it has in decades.

Everything is packed in the truck and ready to go the night before. He called you earlier to impart the vaguest of instructions as to what you should bring, proud of himself for not giving anything away too soon. Even when you asked in that silly-sweet voice, pouting on the screen like a princess, "Please? At least give me a hint!"

No. No hints.

Like a child on Christmas, Wally can barely sleep, he's so excited, but he manages a few hours. Dreams of the world beyond Split River as if he's setting off on some grand adventure and not just driving a 3.5 hour span of state highway.

Tomorrow, Wally will experience a first. Something that was so far out of reach there was no point entertaining it because all it led to was disappointment and regret. Instead there were years upon years of distractions. Mock Trials and obituaries and looking at his feet when he should've looked back.

Wally sometimes wonders if those missed opportunities weren't the yellow brick road that brought him to you. Everyone else walked through The Door with him, but there's no sign of Dawn who crossed over. If Mr. Martin didn't do what he did, Wally might've moved on, and you and he wouldn't exist...

His heart lurches in his chest.

No sense ruminating. You have him. He has you. That's all that matters now. And tomorrow, Wally will have his first real taste of freedom with the only person he wants to share that moment with.

It's going to be perfect.

‗•‗

Wally picks you up just after sunrise. You're grumpy and sleepwarm and, Jesus, Wally loves you. Pouting at him like he's both a menace and your savior. Arms up, lower lip jutted out, a sweet demand of carry me before you slump into his embrace and force him to take your weight. Which he does, easily, big grin on his face as he toddler-carries you to the passenger side of Xavier's truck.

He bundles you in, sets you up with the softest blanket Claire found at Target—Yuri and Ajay not doing their jobs as devil's advocate at all as the cart filled up with Claire's suggestions. Honestly, Wally doesn't care. Especially not after your eyes brighten as you run your fingers over it, wiggling happily in your seat.

"You cozy, babygirl?" He asks as soon as he's behind the wheel and the smile you give him makes him fucking melt.

"You got me a blanket." You state, tucking yourself in more securely; shoes off, feet up, elbow on the console so you can lean over it and kiss Wally's cheek. "Thank you."

Wally blushes, he can't help it, and shrugs as if it's nothing. "I got you a bunch of things, baby," he says as he starts the truck, "Just wait and see. You're gonna feel like a princess, I promise."

You slip your hand into his, fingers laced, and he rests them on your thigh as he drives. Down the street, turn left, continue to the intersection of Main and 4th. Right on 4th, all the way to the end and then left on Pine. Drive until the highway onramp. Now Leaving Split River, We'll Miss You!

Oh God... Wally's heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears. This feels bigger than his first step off school property. Bigger than feeling air in his lungs and a drum in his chest after being hollow for so long.

Somehow, and Wally doesn't know how, you manage to talk him through pulling over, crawling over the console to plant yourself in his lap. Hands cradling his jaw, you press your forehead against his and guide him away from the edge of a panic attack.

"—got you, Wally, I'm right here, you're okay, shh, you're okay..." The steady cadence of your voice sharpens as his breathing regulates. He's holding you like a lifeline, arms fastened around your waist, heaving great gulps of air as he trembles slightly.

"I'm sorry, baby," He gasps and squeezes his eyes shut.

"Nuh-uh, no apologies, Wally Clark," You say firmly. There's a lull before you chuckle, gentle and kind, "Hey, this was a lot better than the night you first stepped across the school boundary line, right?"

Fuck, that was a mess. However, Wally wasn't alone when that happened. Charley and Rhonda and Yuri, Mr. Martin and Ajay, Mina, they were all there too, equally as overwhelmed. Rhonda threw up on Quinn's shoes. Charley passed all the way out. Yuri and Ajay were fine, fuck them, but Mina just...screamed. And then laughed. Then cried. Then screamed some more, listening to the sound ricochet off the surrounding buildings in a way it wouldn't have days before The Door.

Wally snorts, "Yeah. Sure," and finally peeks up at you. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks that he realizes belatedly feel damp. Is he crying? Weak. But you aren't judging him, simply gazing at him like he hung the moon; you're perfect person, the man you love most, and Wally's chest swells. "We're out of Split River," Wally croaks.

You beam at him, "We're out of Split River."

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River.

‗•‗

After climbing out of the truck to holler into the ether. To chase each other around the Now Leaving sign. To grab you, spin you around and fall into the grass as you and he laugh and laugh and laugh, Wally finally gets the show back on the road.

Once again, he tucks you into your seat, takes your hand, checks his mirrors and then pulls back onto the highway, the town that raised him then witnessed his death becoming a speck in the background with every mile marker you and he pass.

He lifts your hand, grazes a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes on the road and his mind on you and everything he has planned for this trip. At the halfway point, he stops for gas, shadows you as you browse the aisles for exactly the right snacks. Fondly gazes after you the whole time as you make tough decisions: Nerds or Twizzlers? Cookies or chocolate? Wally, do I want a vanilla or butterscotch pudding with my Oreos? Because that's a normal combination, what?

He's absolutely no help at all, too busy mooning over you as you flutter between the fridge and the chest freezer, babbling about how integral to your mood it is to pick the right snack. To cover for the fact that he isn't paying attention, Wally grabs a bag of marshmallows off one of the shelves when you call him out for not listening.

"These." He says, holding the bag up and then glancing at the graham crackers and Hershey's displayed at eye-level. "Maybe these?"

"You wanna make s'mores in the truck?" You ask, dubious.

"No," Wally saves himself, "Just these," and he jiggles the bag of marshmallows. They're the jumbo kind; the kind he used to bet his cousin Dennis to eat five of in one bite or else he couldn't play Wally's Magnavox Odyssey.

You consider the marshmallows for a moment and then, with a decisive nod, "And hot chocolate."

"And hot chocolate," Wally agrees, following you around the shop to the coffee station.

Wally pays for everything, hip-butting you (carefully, no spills) out of the way when you try to pass the cashier your card. He takes the bag and the tray of hot chocolate and still holds the door open for you with his heel. No fucking way is his princess lifting a finger on her birthday-slash-Wally's-freedom trip.

For every mile, you dip a marshmallow in your hot chocolate—dipping Wally's as well and feeding him, giggling when he nips or sucks the gooey sugar from your fingertips. It's silly and sweet and Wally basks in every second of it. Every second of your off-key singing, your trivia answers, your arguments over which is better, Thunderbirds or Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons.

"You know, I have been catching up on TV shows, right?" Wally laughs, "You can use better examples."

"What's wrong with puppets, Wally? Are you a pupaphobist?"

Wally barks a laugh, "That's not a thing!"

"It definitely is a thing," And you wield your phone, flashing Google as Exhibit A. "So? Are you? Just say it, you hate Jim Henson and everything he stood for."

And it's amazing. It's anything and everything and so much more than Wally could've ever hoped for. Even the quiet intervals when the sugar wears off and the early wakeup call catches up to you; your body curled up in your seat awkwardly just so you can angle yourself right to rest your head on the console and place Wally's hand in your hair.

Adorable little diva.

As you doze, Wally watches the scenery drift by, his lungs expanding more and more with every mile he puts between himself and Split River.

Eventually, he turns off the highway and onto the backroads without you noticing a thing. His fingers card through your hair, trace the shape of your jaw and cheek as he absorbs the softness of the moment and tucks it away behind his ribs. Safe and sound, to be pulled out and cherished when he's alone.

When he parks, he's reluctant to wake you. So, he doesn't. Not immediately. Rather, he spends a few minutes just resting himself, sinking down a little in the driver's seat. Then slants sideways, curls over and around you to kiss your ear, cheek, jaw.

He couldn't dim his smile if he tried, enamored when you protest at first, but then sigh, realize where you are and who you're with before groggily chuckling at Wally's antics.

"Surprise, baby girl," He whispers, letting you sit up so you can take in your surroundings.

The look on your face tells Wally he did a good job. The way you tackle him into the inside of his door and kiss him tells him he's going to have to start planning next year's surprise tomorrow, because, fuck yeah, this is exactly the reaction he's looking for.

Getting out of the truck and staring at Claire's stepdad's lodge; at the trees and the snow and the vast expanse of sky, it hits him again like a ton of bricks.

Holy fuck. He's out of Split River!

‗•‗

He doesn't wait to celebrate. As soon as he closes the door behind him, he reels you in, kisses you deep and hungry while you're only halfway out of your jacket. That's okay, he helps you get it the rest of the way off, along with everything else.

"Let me make you feel good, baby," He whispers against your skin, hands everywhere, his hips rolling into yours as he pins you to the wall beside the door. "Let me show you how much I love you..."

Wally kisses you deep, hungry, groaning into your mouth as he keeps grinding his hard cock against you, fuck, you get him going like nothing else. All you have to do is breathe in his direction and his pants tent.

Heat courses through him, curls tight in his belly and flushes outward to his limbs, God, he needs you. Now. Right fucking now, baby, come on. He carries you to the enormous kitchen island, peels your leggings and panties off and has his lips on you and tongue in you faster than you can cry out his name.

"So sweet, baby," He moans into your pussy, panting, not bothering to breathe in his greed for your taste and pleasure. "Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you."

He spears his tongue in and out of you before teasing little circles around your clit, his fingers plunging into you in place of his tongue. Wally could do this all day and never get tired; the sounds you make, the way you writhe and beg for him, Jesus, he can't imagine ever wanting anything else.

Cruel, desperate, he doesn't care what you call it, he stops right as you're about to come, shoves his sweatpants just below his balls and drags your hips off the counter to punch his cock into you. His head falls back as soon as he feels you around him, so tight and hot, "Fuck, yes, baby, so good for me."

And he sets a frenzied pace, unable to keep himself in check now that he has you like this. His fingers dig into your lovehandles, your legs hooked over his elbows. He's grunting, you're mewling your pleasure, and Wally about loses it before you do. But he doesn't. He's better than that, fucks you like a beast until you scream and shake and squirt around his cock.

It's game over after that. No way can he hold on, his body tensing, hips grinding, as he spills deep inside you. Carefully, he sits you more firmly on the counter and leans in to kiss you, soft, sated, a little blissdrunk in the afterglow. Bodies pressed together, slowly recovering, Wally strokes the arches of your cheeks with his thumbs and gives you a muzzy smile.

"You're my whole world, you know that?" He tells you and then captures your lips in a kiss that quickly turns heated, "I'll do anything for you, baby." Fuck, he's already getting worked up again, needs more of you, always needs more. "I'll die all over again if you asked me to."

"Wally..." You gasp when he rocks his hips forward, driving his cock back into you.

It's just after sundown before you and he finally check out what's beyond the open kitchen/living room space, the table and couch and ottoman and, shit, bearskin rug fully christened in sweat and come.

You and he jump on the beds with childlike glee, music blaring on speakers that cost more than Rodney's mortgage. Claire explicitly forbade Wally from using the master suite so, taking that into consideration, that's the first bedroom he fucks you in—from behind, driving his hips forward while he pulls you back against him. What? He'll do the necessary laundry.

If he remembers...

‗•‗

After a supper of haphazardly thrown together and grossly microwaved nachos, Wally snuggles you between his legs on one of the Adirondack chairs outside, under a thick blanket and dressed accordingly in the thermals and sweater and fuzzy socks he secretly bought and brought for you.

The fire pit blazes, the stars above twinkle, and the land around is a peaceful kind of dark. Not the ominous, suffocating dark Wally grew accustomed to in the confines of the school. The comfortable silence between you and him is accentuated by the crackle and pop of the fire, the scene so peaceful, Wally has to wonder if he ever experienced any such feeling before.

His arms tighten around you and he presses a kiss to your cheek from behind, watching the flames dance as you lance another marshmallow on your stick.

Tomorrow is your birthday and he intends to take you skiing. Or, when he knows you'll diplomatically decide to trade skis for slippers, he'll bring you back here at noon and spoil you rotten with presents and a homecooked meal; that bubble bath Nicole suggested (thank you, Nicole), and a long night on that bearskin rug (thank you Rhonda).

It's going to be an incredible week, he assures himself. And on Saturday, the others will arrive while he takes you into the resort town to explore so they can set up your big surprise party. Yuri will grill in a t-shirt, and Charley will force everyone to play '90s boardgames he died too soon to play, and Rhonda will make everyone take shots whenever Wally gives you heart eyes just to watch the messiness unfurl.

Claire will probably reprimand him for fucking in her parents' bedroom, but Wally doesn't care. Because it means he celebrated you right. That you and he had fun. That there's evidence of the fact that, for the first time in 40 years, holy fuck, Wally made it out of Split River!

🧁___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Anxiety.

a smutty flashfic explaining how not. clingy. Wally is even when he thinks you're mad at him but won't tell him why.

As a math nerd/number one hater I love this

hey guys what do you call a snake that’s 3.14 meters long?

I’m killing myself these are so real and damn funny

texts between you and bf!rafe

warnings none/very suggestive

– additional cause rafe's a loser <3

a/n a little something while i work on ofl ahhthis was so much fun

Rewatching school spirits is so funny because wtf do you mean Claire is evil, Xavier’s a murderer, they still go to group, yuri and quinn barely exist, what do you mean there was a teacher stealing thousands of dollars and a cheerleader blackmailing him for grades i forgot all this shit

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 3 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit and very possessive, kinda dom!wally, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: this is part 3!! part 1 and 2 are linked below! thank you so much for the love!! I'm so glad you guys liked this small series. I'm so sorry I took so much to finish this oh my god. university has been killing me lately lol but here is part 3! i might make more one shots like this with wally cause I love him so much.

Word count: 2209

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn, again - noah cyrus.

masterlist. part 1. part 2. part 3

    ⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

Your entire body trembled as his fingers moved harder, faster, making your entire world narrow to the feeling of his fingers against your aching core.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in gasps, but you didn’t answer.

You couldn’t. Not when you were falling apart in his hands.

Not when you felt so good pressed against him.

So fucking good.

"And now, baby?" His tongue brushed over your lips, slowly. "Now you're gonna find out exactly what happens when you push me too fucking far."

The water swayed around you, rippling from the way Wally had you pinned against the smooth tile of the pool’s edge, his body pressed so tight against yours that there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you.

His breath was hot against your lips, his fingers working you in slow, devastating circles. Your body trembled against him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"You're shaking, baby." His voice was dark, thick with satisfaction, his free hand gripping your hip so tight. "And I've barely even started."

You dropped your head back against the wall, a desperate whimper falling off your lips. He was teasing you, holding you right on the edge, his fingers slipping lower, pressing, dragging, barely dipping inside of you before pulling back—just enough to make you lose your mind.

More. Please, God. More.

“Wally,” you gasped, hips bucking against his hand, a desperate pleading sound.

But he only chuckled, dark and rough, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “No, no. You don’t get to rush me. Not after everything you’ve put me through. You’re gonna take everything I give you, exactly how I fucking want.”

His fingers pushed in deep, stretching you, making you arch against him, a broken moan slipping from your lips. He swallowed it with his mouth, his kiss rough, messy, nothing but teeth and tongue and desperation.

And then—he slammed his fingers inside you.

You cried out, back arching, water splashing against the pool’s edge as his fingers curled, dragging slow, torturous strokes along your inner walls, his thumb pressing deliberate circles against your clit.

Oh my god.

“Wally,” you gasped again, this time more desperate, your entire body tightening as heat coiled low in your stomach. “I can’t—I’m gonna—”

But he didn’t stop.

“Gonna what?” His voice was pure sin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “Come all over my fucking fingers? Soak my hand while you scream my name? Say it.”

A sob tore from your throat as pleasure ripped through your entire body, making you convulse, your legs trembling. Your moan was so loud he clamped a wet hand over your mouth, groaning as he felt you tighten around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he growled, his forehead pressing against yours. “That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl.”

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Before you could even catch your breath, he dragged his fingers out of you—slick, messy—lifting them to your lips.

“Open,” he ordered.

And when you obeyed, sucking his fingers deep into your mouth, his eyes darkened, his cock throbbing against your stomach. He pinned you tighter against the tile; he panted against your skin. His fingers still in your mouth, your tongue lapping at them hungrily, and fuck—he felt it. The heat, the desperation, the way you sucked his fingers deeper like you were trying to drive him insane.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmured, voice wrecked with lust, his free hand dragging up your thigh, squeezing, gripping, spreading you open beneath the water. “You look so good like this. So desperate. So fucking mine.”

His fingers slipped from your mouth with a wet pop, trailing down your chin, smearing your juices and saliva across your skin. He gripped your jaw, forcing your head back against the tile, his eyes devouring you.

"You wanted to tease me?" he rasped, his voice low. "Wanted to push me until I fucking broke? Well, baby—”

His fingers trailed down your throat, over your collarbone, until he was cupping your breast, rolling your hard nipple between his fingers, making you gasp. He pinched, just enough to make you whimper, to make you need more.

"You like pushing me, don't you?" He gripped your breast tighter, his thumb flicking over the hardened bud, making you arch against him. "You like watching me lose my fucing mind over you."

"Yes," your voice a breathless mess, but you still smirked, your eyes filled with lust. Oh, you were loving this. You loved seeing him like this. Feral.

His growl was dark, dangerous, with pure need. His other hand moved lower, spreading you again under the water, his fingers teasing, pressing, torturing.

"You love this, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver. "Love making me want you. Love knowing you drive me fucking insane."

His fingers ghosted over your soaked folds, barely touching, just enough to make your hips jerk. Your body was on fire, every nerve screaming, every part begging for more. He knew it. He could feel your body trembling in his arms. And still, he didn't give in.

He wanted to teach you a lesson.

"I could do whatever I want to you right now," he whispered, his lips dragging along your jaw. "And you'd let me. Wouldn't you, baby?"

You swallowed hard, nodding, breathless. "Yes. Fuck—yes.”

His smirk was sinful, dripping with possession. “Then say it.”

Your mind was a mess, wrecked, clouded with nothing but him. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest. “There you go, baby, such a good girl.”

His fingers pressed harder against your entrance, teasing, circling—but not pushing inside. You whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate, needy.

“Poor baby,” he cooed mockingly, his tone dark, so damn cruel. “So fucking desperate. You need me, don’t you?”

“Please,” you whimpered, your body trembling, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Wally—please.”

"Please what, baby? Use your words."

"Need you inside me." Your voice was wrecked, raw with desperation.

He tsked, shaking his head. “Not good enough.” His fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, dragging slick, lazy strokes against your soaked folds. “You need me where?”

You groaned in frustration, your head falling back against the tile. “Inside me. Deep inside me. Please.”

"That's better," he murmured approvingly. "See how easy that was?" He slid his fingers inside you, stretching you open, slow, teasing, his thumb circling your clit in lazy, torturous strokes. “You’re fucking dripping for me. Been waiting for this, huh? For my cock to fuck you until you're begging for me to stop?”

Your entire body trembled, heat coiling low in your stomach, overwhelming, unbearable. “Yes—fuck—please.”

He pulled his fingers out, making you whimper at the loss, before gripping your hips and flipping you, pressing your chest against the wet tile. His breath was hot against your shoulder, his cock grinding between your thighs, teasing you, taunting you.

“You wanted to play?” His voice was pure sin, dripping with dark amusement. “Now, sweetheart, you’re gonna shut the fuck up and fucking take it like the good girl that you are.” He lined himself up, his fingers digging into your hips. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me for it.”

Then, with one devastating thrust—he slammed into you.

Your entire body jerked forward, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as he filled you, stretched you, made you take every thick inch of him in one deep stroke. The water rippled violently around you, waves crashing against the pool’s edge, your bodies colliding with pure, reckless need.

“Fuck,” Wally groaned, his fingers bruising against your hips. “You feel so goddamn good. So tight, so fucking perfect.”

Your nails clawed at the tile, trying to hold yourself up as he set a punishing pace, each snap of his hips sending a shockwave through your body. He wasn’t holding back—wasn’t teasing anymore. This was raw. Desperate. Dominant.

His lips ghosted over your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin before he bit down, hard enough to make you whimper. “This what you wanted?”

You could barely breathe, barely think. “Yes—fuck—yes.” Every nerve was on fire, every muscle clenched tight, and all you could think was: more, more, more. You needed more.

His chuckle was low, sinful. “Such a dirty girl. Wanted my cock so bad, didn't you? All you needed to do was ask, baby.” He slammed into you again, harder this time, deeper, the force making you gasp. "But you didn't ask, did you, baby? You fucking teased me until I couldn't hold back any longer. You wanted this the entire time, you little minx. Wanted me to fuck you senselessly."

He drove into you again, deeper this time, his cock slamming against your cervix, making you cry out. The force of it made your head spin, your vision blurring at the edges. You felt him, every inch of him, inside you, stretching you, filling you, claiming you, a possessive, almost desperate grip.

“So fucking good,” he panted, his voice rough with need, his breath hot against your neck. He began to move faster, harder, his hips bucking against yours, the rhythm relentless, unforgiving.

Your head lolled forward, your hair falling over your face, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He was pushing you to the edge, driving you insane, and you were letting him, wanting him to.

“Wally,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea, a raw, untamed sound.

"You like it like this, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. He pulled out, making you whimper at the sudden loss, his hands manhandling you with such ease, turning you around so that you're looking right at him, his eyes dark and possessive. "Fuck, baby. You take me so fucking well." He grabbed your thighs, lifting them a little bit more, and slammed inside you again, deeper this time, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his fingers gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, dilated, filled with a raw, feral hunger that made your heart pound against your ribs. "Look at me while I fuck you, while I make you mine."

He began moving harder, each thrust deliberate and powerful, his eyes locked on yours.

"Tell me you're mine," he commanded, his voice rough, his grip tightening on your jaw. "Tell me you belong to me, baby. Please."

"Yours," you gasped, your body arching against his. "Only yours."

“Come for me, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with desire, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. “Give it to me.”

And you did. Your body clenched around him, your muscles spasming, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over you, making you see stars, a raw, sensual ache. You cried out his name, your voice echoing in the night, your body convulsing around him.

He groaned, his own release building, his thrusts becoming frantic, desperate. He slammed into you one last time, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, the feeling of him spilling inside you, hot and thick, made you whimper.

He collapsed against you, his weight heavy, his breath ragged and uneven. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just held each other, breathing heavily, the silence broken only by the sound of the water lapping against the pool’s edge.

Then, slowly, he pulled back, his eyes searching yours. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his gaze intense. “What did we just do?”

He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, a gentle, almost hesitant touch. "Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, your breath still catching in your throat. "I… I don't know," you whispered, the words barely audible. "Are you?"

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not... But I think I'm okay with that." He paused, his gaze searching yours, looking for any signs of guilt, regret, or even fear. "God, you feel incredible," he murmured. "I think I might be addicted to you."

"We shouldn't have done this," you whispered.

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "Maybe not," he admitted softly, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. "But fuck, I can't regret it. I don't, baby, I promise. Not even for a fucking second."

"Wally," you whispered, your voice trembling. "What if we just ruined everything?"

He leaned closer, his forehead gently resting against yours. "Then we'll figure it out. And we'll do it together." His voice softened, yet the intensity remained, a promise buried deep in every word. "You're not losing me. No matter what happens, I won't let this break us."

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart ache and flutter all at once. Your fingers traced along his jawline, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. "Promise?"

His gaze darkened, serious and unwavering. "I promise. I promise. I promise. God, I swear," he murmured fiercely, sealing the promise with a lingering kiss. "It's you and me, baby. Always."

Milo Manheim | Spencer MacPherson