Cop!rafe Gives Dumb!reader A Warning (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

cop!rafe gives dumb!reader a warning (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

summary: officer cameron has had quite the uneventful night. he’s told to park on a quiet backroad to speed trap, but ends up making a stupid girl give him head instead of making her pay her ticket!

cw : smut, 18+, flirting, teasing, breast play, blowjob, reader is stupid and flirty, she’s a bad driver, lots of ‘like’

a/n : cop!rafe has a 70’s porn stache and that’s final! also i didn’t proof this very well sooooo sorry. also send me hc’s for cop!rafe and dumb!reader if you like them paired together!

Cop!rafe Gives Dumb!reader A Warning (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

officer cameron’s mouth opened wide as he yawned, rubbing his face with his hand. earlier that night he was called to bust a group of teenage delinquents that were t-p’ing their teachers’ home. ‘just go home, guys’ he told them, hands positioned at the top of his vest—and anticlimactically enough, they did, without much fuss.

his second dispatch of the night was at a run-down gas station just outside of town. the cashier, an older, frail-looking man had called 911 in hopes for the cops to detain the homeless man that was loitering out front. rafe explained to the clerk that he wasn’t able to arrest the homeless man because he wasn’t technically doing anything illegal.

“sir, in the state of north carolina its not illegal for him to sit outside a public building. unless you have a no loitering sign posted out front, which,” he glanced toward the two double, glass doors for a moment, “…it looks like you don’t have.” the older man gave him a glare and muttered, “ain’t no wonder why crime rates is goin’ up—they got pretty boys who don’ know nothin’ ‘bout anythin’…”

that was 2 hours ago.

rafe had been told to ‘speed trap’ on a dark, secluded backroad just north of town. he’s been sitting in his black suv for two hours doing absolutely nothing because no one comes down this road anymore. he was most-likely going to bust a couple of horny high-schoolers who parked on the side of the road to have sex—that’s probably about as entertaining as his night will get.

‘there’s jack shit goin’ on…’ he thought to himself before his tired eyes fluttered shut and the back of his head hit the seat. the soft singing voice on the radio was like a lullaby to his exhausted mind, as his breathing slowed and head began to droop to the side.

CLUNK!

the car jolted foward.

“what the fuck!—“ he shouted, his hand already gripping the handle of his door as he twisted around to look behind him. the red glow of his taillights illuminated the sleek, white bmw that had just plowed into the back of his suv. shoving the door open, he stepped out into the warm september air, his boots crunching against the gravel shoulder as he stomped toward the offending vehicle. he barely had time to process his frustration before he was knocking on the driver’s side window, his patience already worn thin.

“roll down your window.” his tone was sharp, authoritative—ready to chew out whatever dumbass had just rear-ended a cop car in the middle of an empty road. the window lowered with an soft-sounding hum, and rafe’s planned berate died on his tongue as he saw the woman behind the wheel.

big, glossy eyes blinked up at him, framed by your thick lashes. plush, overlined lips wobbled into a pout. long, perfectly curled hair cascaded over your bare shoulders, the strands catching the faint glow of his headlights like spun gold.

you were stunning.

you also looked like you were about to cry.

and the first words out of your mouth?

“omg, i think my car is broken?!” you squealed in a high, valley-girl like voice. rafe exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. it was clear to him that it was going to be a long night.

rafe stared at you, blinking slow like he needed a second to process what the hell he just heard. her car was broken? he resisted the urge to laugh. not because it was funny—because it was so damn stupid that it almost knocked the anger right out of him. almost.

his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he tipped his head toward the crumpled front of your clearly expensive bmw. the left headlight was completely busted, shards of glass littering the pavement, and the front bumper had a nice little dent where it had kissed his suv.

“yeah,” rafe deadpanned, arms crossing over his broad chest. “that tends to happen when you slam into a parked car.” your plump lips parted in an exaggerated gasp, manicured fingers flying to your chest like he’d just accused you of murder.

“i did not slam into you mister,” you insisted, shaking your head, curls bouncing with the motion. “like—ugh! i barely tapped you. my car is literally so sensitive.” you flailed her hands toward the bmw, like it was some fragile piece of art instead of a luxury car you clearly couldn’t drive. “i barely even touched the gas, i swear.”

rafe’s patience was hanging on by a thread.

“you were going fast enough to knock my car forward,” he muttered, glancing back at his own vehicle, which had very much been affected by your little “tap.”

you didn’t acknowledge that. instead, you let out a dramatic sigh, you gaze flickering to him like you’d just now noticed he was wearing a police uniform.

“wait—are you, like, a cop-cop?” you voice was drenched in the kind of obliviousness that only came from never having to deal with consequences. you batted your thick lashes, glossy pink lips curving into something dangerously close to a smile. “oh my god, that’s so funny, i thought you were just, like… a guy in a police car.”

rafe shut his eyes for a second. breathed. counted to three.

it didn’t help.

“license and registration,” he gritted out, reaching for the notepad in his belt.

your face fell.

“wait, no.” you reached out, lightly slapping his forearm with both hands like you were scolding him. “you don’t have to do all that. i mean, look at me!” you gestured to yourself, blinking up at him with glassy, bambi-like eyes. “do i look like a criminal?”

rafe arched a brow. “you look like someone who just crashed into a cop car.” you huffed, crossing your arms in a pout, your cleavage very much on display in the low-cut, hot pink crop top you were barely wearing.

“this is actually, like, so sexist of you,” you announced, twisting a loose strand of your hair around your finger. “you’re totally, like… abusing your power or whatever. just because i’m, like, a girl, and i might’ve, like, barely hit you, you wanna give me a ticket?”

rafe had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“license. and. registration,” he repeated, his voice low, firm.

you groaned, throwing your head back dramatically before shifting in your seat, digging through the mess of designer handbags, receipts, and random makeup products littering your passenger seat.

“ughhh, fiiiine. but, like, can i just say—this is actually so embarrassing for me right now?” you tossed a loose curl over your shoulder, sending him a look. “you’re, like, totally ruining my night.”

rafe exhaled a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “same to you, honey.”

officer cameron waited, watching as you dug through the mess in your passenger seat, tossing aside random receipts, lip gloss tubes, and what looked like a small, sparkly dog sweater.

he was this close to losing it.

finally, with a triumphant little gasp, you pulled out a thick booklet and shoved it toward him, flashing a proud, dead serious look.

“is this it?” you asked, nearly pouting.

rafe stared at the object in your hands.

the car manual.

he dragged a slow hand down his face. fuckin’ hell.

“no.” his voice was flat. so, so flat.

your perfect brows furrowed, lips pushing into a pout as you flipped the manual open, like you were actually about to prove him wrong.

“are you sure?” you flipped another page, scanning it with intense focus. “because, like, it totally has stuff about the car in it. like, see?” you turned the booklet toward him, pointing at a diagram of an engine. “that’s my engine.”

rafe let out a slow, controlled exhale through his nose.

“that’s the manual. i need the registration.”

you blinked up at him. “okay, well, what does that look like?”

his patience snapped. “you don’t know what a registration looks like, but you had this ready to go?” he tapped the thick booklet still clutched in your manicured hands.

you huffed, rolling her eyes. “well, yeah. it was, like, in the glove thingy. and it’s literally about my car, so—why wouldn’t that be it?”

rafe tipped his head back, staring at the sky like it might grant him the strength to deal with this girl.

you were still flipping through the damn manual, nodding like you’d just cracked a code. “oh! maybe it’s this part. it says ‘registration’ right here—”

he glanced down.

you were pointing at a section about registering the fucking bluetooth.

rafe actually laughed this time—a sharp, disbelieving sound as he braced both hands on the edge of your window, leaning in a little too close, his eyes burning into yours.

“you’re kidding,” he muttered. “you have to be kidding.”

you looked up at him, wide-eyed, genuinely confused. “why would I be kidding? i literally don’t joke about stuff like this.”

of course you didn’t.

rafe’s jaw ticked as he straightened up, rolling his shoulders back. this was a waste of time. he should’ve just written you up and sent you on your way—but something about you? it was entertaining. infuriating. and maybe, just maybe… kind of fun.

“move over,” he ordered.

you blinked. “huh?”

rafe gestured toward the passenger seat. “move. i’ll find it myself.”

your lips parted in outrage. “you can’t just, like, get in my car!”

he smirked, slow and lazy, hands braced on his belt. “i can when the driver is too incompetent to find her own registration.”

you gasped, offended. “did you just call me incompetent?”

“yeah, sweetheart.” he opened the door. “now, move.”

rafe barely had the door open before you huffed dramatically and shimmied over to the passenger seat, arms crossed tight over your chest. the movement made your light gray sweatpants ride low on your hips, the little rhinestone “JUICY” across the back catching the glow of his headlights. your hot pink crop top clung to you like a second skin, dipping low enough to keep rafe’s eyes very distracted—not that he’d ever admit it.

you popped your gum, blowing a big, obnoxious bubble before snapping it back between your teeth with a loud crack.

rafe clenched his jaw.

this girl was going to kill him.

sliding into the driver’s seat, he scanned the absolute disaster zone that was your car. the smell of vanilla body spray and expensive leather filled his nose as he shifted through the chaotic mess of designer bags, old coffee cups, and random beauty products littering the center console.

“fuck,” he muttered, pushing aside a half-empty bottle of baccarat rouge 540 like it was a crime scene. “you live in here?”

you gasped like he’d just insulted your entire bloodline.

“excuse me?” you whipped around in your seat, long hair spilling over your shoulder. “this is, like, so rude. my car is literally clean.”

rafe held up a crumpled chick-fil-a bag he’d just unearthed from under a louis vuitton tote.

you waved a dismissive hand, chewing your gum even louder. “okay, well, i got that, like, yesterday.”

he arched a brow. “so?”

“so, that means it doesn’t count.”

rafe exhaled through his nose, deciding not to engage in that particular brand of insanity.

instead, he yanked open the glovebox and—finally—there it was. the damn registration. crinkled, barely legible, but it was there.

he snatched it up, flashing it in your face like a trophy. “this. this is your registration.”

you blinked, blowing another big, dramatic bubble before snapping it again.

“okay, well, like, how was i supposed to know that? it literally looks like all the other papers.”

rafe let out a slow, painfully controlled breath, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles went white.

with a sharp exhale, he exited your vehicle and stalked back toward his suv, pulling the driver’s side door open with more force than necessary. sliding into his seat, he braced his elbows on the center console, rubbing a hand down his face before flipping open his ticket book. the dim glow from his dashboard illuminated the small slip of paper in his hand as he scribbled down your information. his pen scratched against the ticket book, each stroke slow and deliberate—not because he needed extra time, but because he knew you were waiting.

and you were impatient.

he could see you through the rearview mirror, still sitting pretty in your tiny pink crop top, tapping your long, manicured nails against the steering wheel. every few seconds, you’d huff, shifting in your seat, chewing your gum obnoxiously loud.

rafe smirked.

you were so fucking bratty.

finally, he tore the ticket from the book with a slow rip, taking his time as he slid out of his car and made his way back to your open car door.

you immediately perked up, your big doe eyes locking onto him as he leaned down, leaving his right hand on the top of your car.

“ugh, finally,” you groaned, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “i thought i was gonna like, die of boredom.”

rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “tragic,” he murmured, then held out the ticket. “here. make sure your daddy’s card doesn’t decline.”

you snatched it from his hand, rolling your eyes—but when you looked down at the amount, your jaw dropped.

“wait—WHAT?!” you screeched, shaking the paper in his face. “you’re, like, literally joking. there is no way you’re charging me this much!”

rafe just smirked, leaning in closer.

“speeding, reckless driving, and hitting a cop car?” his voice was low, smug. “sounds about right.”

you huffed, your nails scraping against the paper as you dramatically threw your head back. “ugh! this is sooo unfair!”

then, suddenly, you paused. your lips pursed, eyebrows furrowing—and rafe could see it happening. that little spark of mischief, the way you scanned his face, glossy pink lips slowly curling into a smug little smirk. you had an idea.

“you wouldn’t want my daddy to be mad at me, right?” you said sweetly, biting your lip, lashes fluttering up at him. “‘cause like, that’d be really bad of you.”

your fingers toyed with the hem of your crop top, pulling it down ever so slightly—just enough to make his gaze flicker, just enough to remind him how tight it was stretched across your perfect, perky tits.

rafe exhaled slowly through his nose, his jaw tightening. “you really think that’s gonna work?” he muttered, though his voice was noticeably rougher now. your smirk only widened. you leaned in, so close he could smell your sweet perfume and the bubblegum on your breath.

“can’t i, like…pay for this in a different way?” you murmured, your voice dripping with fake innocence, fingers trailing up the front of his uniform, playing with one of the buttons.

rafe’s gaze dropped to your lips—your glossy, plump, parted lips—and for a split second, he let himself imagine it. you, on your knees. looking up at him all needy and desperate, your bratty little attitude gone as you sucked his hard cock, choking as he forced you to deepthroat him.

“you’re out of your damn mind,” he muttered, eyes still maintained on your lips.

despite every reason to shut this down—your spoiled attitude, your blatant bribery, the fact that you’d just crashed into his damn car—he found himself rooted in place, his pulse thudding a little too hard, a little too fast.

your fingers were still playing with his uniform buttons, long nails scraping just lightly enough to send a chill down his spine. you knew exactly what you were doing.

your lips parted as if you were going to say something else—maybe another whiny complaint, maybe another suggestion for how you could make this ticket disappear—but before you could get the words out, he reached up, gripping your chin between his fingers.

the playful smirk vanished from your face. your lashes fluttered, lips parting slightly as you stared up at him, your usual bratty confidence flickering under the weight of his stare.

“sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, just barely grazing your bottom lip. “you crash into a cop car, you pay the fine,” rafe continued, voice low, gravelly, his blue eyes darkening as he tipped your chin up further. “that’s how it works.”

you swallowed, your throat bobbing under his grip. then, suddenly, you let out a soft giggle. you tilted your head, nipping at the tip of his thumb before flashing him a sly, knowing smile

“or,” you whispered, your voice breathy, tempting, “you could just let it slide…” your giggle was soft, sweet—too sweet.

rafe went still. for a split second, he just stared at you, his grip tightening around your chin as the words sank in. you were bratty. you were spoiled. just so damn obvious.

and yet, he could feel the heat creeping up his neck, the urge to call your bluff pressing down on him like a weight.

his jaw ticked, his eyes flickering to the empty road, the pitch-black stretch of kildare that nobody ever drove down this late. the only sound was the soft whistle of the crickets in the distance, the occasional whisper of wind through the trees.

nobody was around.

nobody would see.

his eyes snapped back to you.

before you could react, rafe’s hand dropped from your chin, and instead, he began undoing belt. “better get to fuckin’ work then, hun.” he muttered, voice heavy with lust.

you gasped, eyes widening at the sight. his thick, hard cock sprung out of his trousers, now eye-level with you.

rafe just stared down at you, his chest rising and falling. he gripped your jaw and brought it towards his red-tipped dick, pressing it onto your glossy lips.

rafe swore he’d seen the smallest smirk on your lips before your mouth parted, inviting him in. his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as your hand came up to hold him steady at his base, cock going deeper into your throat with every lick.

gaining confidence, your movements became more fluid, bobbing your head onto his length with ease—like you were a pro at this, giving cops head to avoid paying tickets.

“fuck.” rafe groaned, throwing his head back in bliss, guiding the back of your head with his left hand. his right hand came down to your tube top, forcing it down to reveal your tits. you giggled on his cock, using your free hand to make a show of squeezing and playing with your boobs for him to watch.

“you’re such a fuckin’ slut…. givin’ a cop head so you don’t have to pay for ticket…” he humorlessly chuckled, gripping your hair tighter as he thrusted into your mouth faster.

spit bubbles were falling from the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the white leather of the drivers seat. he leaned down, grabbing a handful of your tit, massaging it as he groaned.

you stared up at him with doe-like eyes, silently begging for his cum. he recieved the message, grabbing your face with both of his hands, fucking your mouth at a fast pace.

gulg gulg gulg

your mouth made the explicit noise as you impulsively moaned around his member, scratching at his wrists, almost at your limit.

“shit—gonna cum all over that pretty face—“ rafe moaned, pulling out of your throat, jerking himself off, other hand forcing your mouth open wide.

his hot cum spurted out in white ropes, landing on various places of your flushed face. his movements on his cock slowed, as he gained his sense of reality back.

he looked down at your cum-cover face—laughing when he saw the bimbo-like look in your eyes.

“well,” he started, putting himself back into his trousers, grabbing a couple of napkins from the inside of your door. he wiped his white semen off of your face, making you giggle. “i guess i could let you off with a warning, instead.” he smirked, giving your red face a light slap.

Pillow princess

crybaby! Reader x Rafe Cameron

———————————˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊————————————-

You were weightless, boneless, floating somewhere between sleep and reality. Your body was soft, limp against the sheets, your limbs draped over Rafe’s as he held you close. The air was thick with the scent of him—cologne, sweat, and the faintest hint of his shampoo.

You sighed, completely fucked out, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you nuzzled into his chest. “Mmm.” That was all you could manage, a tiny, content little noise, barely above a whisper.

Rafe smirked, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns up and down your side, his other hand resting on your throat, just where you liked it. His thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling the rapid little beat beneath your skin, like a caged bird trying to escape.

His grip was never tight—just there, firm and grounding, a silent reminder that you were his.

You exhaled shakily, melting further into him. “Feels good,” you mumbled sleepily, voice hoarse and used.

Rafe hummed, dragging his knuckles over your jaw before tilting your chin up, forcing your hazy eyes to meet his. “Yeah?”

You nodded, lips parting, breath coming out in soft little pants as he ran his fingers back down, pressing lightly at the base of your throat.

Your lashes fluttered. Your lips trembled.

“More,” you whispered, barely conscious but still needy, still desperate for his touch.

Rafe chuckled, his hand tightening just slightly, just enough to make your body go lax. “Fucking pillow princess,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there. “Can’t even keep your eyes open, huh?”

You whimpered, shaking your head, slipping deeper and deeper into that fuzzy, floaty space where everything was warm and perfect and him.

“Did so good for me, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with pride, fingers stroking over your skin. “Go to sleep. I got you.”

And you did—safely tucked away in Rafe’s arms, his hand never leaving your throat.

————————————˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊———————————

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spiceforyou

2 months ago

Loveeee

Boyfriend Simon Elroy (NSFW)

prompt fill. (request)

Simon Elroy x fem!reader

___________________________🌰

Simon is exactly the type of romantic who takes your favorite color or favorite movie or favorite holiday very fucking seriously. Everything you tell him, he commits to memory. Tattoos it on his brain so he'll never forget. You only eat the green M&Ms? He'll pick them out of every bag and hand them to you like treasures. You hate it when the sauce touches your spaghetti before you can mix it yourself? He'll replate everything over and over again until you smile. And he does it all like it's no big deal, nothing to see here; mid-conversation, making a joke, totally whatever.

Simon is exactly the type to be sarcastic, wields his dark sense of humor like a test—none shall pass—but knows when to brighten himself up if you need a boost. He'll defend your honor against anyone, disguising sharp remarks behind a smile as he cuts down the passive-aggressive idiots who try to make you rethink your values. He's soft words in harsh tones; observations collected over hours spent together; always studying you, always learning, always finding new ways to make you feel like the sun.

Simon is exactly the type to keep a hand in your back pocket and kiss your neck after he walks you to class. Yeah, he knows you're independent, but he doesn't give a shit, gimme your bag, babe, or suffer the consequences. He isn't into soft affection for the sake of it, but he'll find reasons to touch you. Funny enough, despite that quirk, he does like to roughhouse at the drop of a hat. Grab you around the waist and bodily move you where he wants you. Throw you over his shoulder when you suffer decision fatigue and have been standing in front of the squishmallows for twenty minutes.

Simon is exactly the type to make the little moments significant. Celebrates every achievement like it's the cure for cancer. He'll put together backyard picnics under the stars because he can't afford a restaurant. He'll set up a blanket fort around his bed to watch scary movies in the dark after you admit you've never seen The Ring. Even secretly calls your phone right as the end credits start to roll and cackles when you jump a foot in the air. Bundles you up and rocks you, kisses you until you say you forgive him.

But Simon is also the type to get obsessed. He isn't controlling, just wants to make sure his girl is okay, taken care of, happy at all times. Because if she isn't, there will be hell to pay and Simon will gleefully be the one to unleash it. He would go to the ends of the earth for you, no questions asked. You want sushi from that place in Milwaukee—an hour and a half away, and closed on Sundays—Simon WILL make that happen. He's the first one there and the last to leave, helps clean up the basement after everyone exits Game Night. Doesn't expect anything in return. You know that if you get hurt, he'll nurse you back to health, a bit of a helicopter mom, and that he'll also fucking murder whoever's responsible. (You've never seen the school patch a crack in the pavement so fast...)

Simon is also the type who doesn't get jealous. He isn't territorial. He doesn't worry about you if another guy decides to make his move; watches in amusement because he knows dickhead Dom Sawyer can't do what Simon does for you. He simply raises a brow at the guys who try to pretend Simon doesn't exist. It's only if and when you get uncomfortable that Simon intervenes, "You okay, beautiful?" and extricates you from the situation, a protective arm around your waist.

Simon is exactly the type who makes promises he doesn't break. If he swore to make you scream his name, that's exactly what you'll be doing, no matter how long it takes. "Come on, beautiful, I know you can be louder than that..." He's methodical, thorough, has done the research and gathered the evidence, your honor, this is what word to spell with his tongue to make you squirt. And Simon loves to make you come as many times as you can take, groaning as he tastes you, his lips and chin dribbling, his eyes rolled back in his head as he tries to get his tongue deeper. He listens to you, knows your limits, won't cross them even when his curiosity is begging him to. Giving you pleasure gives him pleasure, and sometimes he won't even have to fuck you to get off. He doesn't get embarrassed, is sure of himself, just gives you a wolfish smirk and starts all over again. Makes you taste yourself on his tongue before he decides to use his fingers this time. "You want to come again, love? Say it. Tell me what you want."

Simon is definitely the type to fuck slow when he does have you beneath him. He's traditional in some aspects. Prefers missionary to anything else because he needs to see your eyes, to gaze deeply into them as he rocks into you, angled perfectly to tease you. "You feel amazing, beautiful girl," he murmurs as he kisses your neck and pinches your nipple. "You're so perfect, fuck, I'm so lucky." And then, finally, he'll position himself just right to hit your g-spot, ram into it until you and he come together.

Simon isn't vanilla. He'll secret you away to a bathroom at the arcade or have you ride him behind the Peddie's barn when there's a tailgate. He just knows what he likes and that's all there is to it. But if there's something you want to try, he's more than willing, "Anything for you, love."

Simon is exactly the type who knows how to laugh during sex. He's silly and doesn't take himself too seriously. Honestly, he just loves the way you sound when you giggle, he doesn't care what's happening when you do. Simon doesn't get drowsy after, either. He gets hype; wants to play; loves to tickle you into submission and then snuggle the shit out of you as he talks to you about plans he's made for you and him to travel to New York Comic Con. He tucks your hair behind your ear, blushes at his own gesture—like he can't quite believe he's allowed to be that intimate—and then smothers you in kisses so you won't notice how red his cheeks are.

🌰___________________________

also on AO3!

120 notes View Post

spiceforyou

3 months ago

Blurb:

Wally Clark’s hands.

NSFW

Wally Clark is so touchy feely and clingy that he has to be touching you in some way.

When he was sat next to you his hand would rest on your thigh or he would have his arm around your chair. And if you had a little too much attitude he would tug on your ponytail giving you a look telling you to tone it down before he had to tone it down for you. Which usually ended with his hand wrapped in your hair while he fucked your throat or as he had you on all fours.

He’d pull you into his lap any chance he could get. Holding your hips in his hands. He’d slide them underneath your shirt warming your entire body at the feel of his skin on yours. He’d pop a boner immediately and position you perfectly over it making sure you felt him pulsing against your throbbing pussy.

Wally Clark would love how his massive hand looked wrapped around your pretty throat. The catch in your breath and the wide eyed look would turn him into putty. How dazed you got while he pounded into you.

If he needed you to be quiet or to shut up he’d sink his pointer and middle finger into your mouth and tell you to suck on them like the good little slut you are.

Study Night Confessions

Wally Clark x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,719

NSFW!

Hi There ! Could I Request A Wally Drabble Where They’ve Known Each Other Since They Were Little And

~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~

The evening was cool and quiet, a gentle breeze whispering through the leaves outside. Inside the small, cluttered room, books and papers lay scattered across the table, a silent testament to the hours Wally and Y/N had spent together. They had known each other since they were knee-high to a grasshopper, growing up in the same town, attending the same school, sharing the same dreams. They had always been close, but there was something different tonight, a charge in the air that neither could ignore.

Wally glanced up from his book, his eyes meeting hers. She sat across from him, chewing on the end of her pen, lost in thought. Her hair, usually a wild mess, was pulled back into a loose ponytail, revealing the faint freckles that danced across her nose and cheeks. The lamp cast a warm, golden light, making her look like she belonged on the pages of one of their favorite childhood stories. He took a deep breath, feeling his heart race in his chest. He had to tell her.

They had been studying for hours, the silence only broken by the occasional rustle of paper or the tick of the clock on the wall. The room was filled with the comforting scent of old books and the faint aroma of the coffee they had brewed earlier. Wally had always found something soothing about the way Y/N's mind worked, the way she could dissect a problem and solve it without breaking a sweat. But tonight, as he watched her, he found himself thinking about things that had nothing to do with homework.

The tension grew, a palpable force that made the air thick with unspoken words. Wally's hand hovered over his notes, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He had heard whispers about his past, about a summer fling that had left him with a bit more experience than she had. It was something she didn't know, something he had never wanted to bring between them. But he couldn't help feeling like it was eating away at him, like a secret he had to share before it consumed him entirely.

Finally, he found the courage to speak. "Y/N," he began, his voice low and hesitant. She looked up, her eyes wide with curiosity. He took a moment, gathering his thoughts, trying to find the right words. "There's something I need to tell you."

Her eyes searched his, looking for a clue, a hint of what was to come. The room seemed to shrink around them, the only sound the thundering of their hearts. Wally knew this was it, the moment that would change everything. He took another deep breath and continued, "I've liked you for a really long time." The words hung in the air, heavy and significant.

Y/N blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice a soft tremble.

Wally swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers. "I mean, I'm in love with you."

The confession hung between them like a delicate thread, vibrating with the weight of its meaning. Y/N's hand stilled on the paper, the pen hovering in mid-air. She looked at him, really looked at him, for what felt like the first time in forever. And then, she set the pen down, her eyes filling with a warmth that made Wally's heart soar.

"Wally," she whispered, "I think I love you too."

The world stopped spinning for a moment, frozen in the wake of her words. And then, as if released from an invisible cage, Wally felt his heart race even faster. He pushed his chair back and moved towards her, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. She leaned into his touch, her eyes searching his, looking for reassurance.

He knew then that this was it, the moment he had dreamed of for so long. He leaned in, their faces so close that he could feel her breath on his skin. And then, as if pulled by an invisible force, their lips met. The kiss was soft, tentative, filled with the promise of so much more.

The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as the years of friendship melded into something new. They broke apart, gasping for air, their eyes locked. Wally could feel the heat rising in him, a fire that had been smoldering for far too long. He knew that tonight was the night, the night where everything would change.

And as they moved closer, their bodies brushing against each other, the tension that had been simmering for so long finally snapped. Wally's arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, their kiss deepening with each passing moment. His hands slid down to the small of her back, pressing her closer, as if trying to meld their very souls together.

Y/N's hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his shirt. She knew that this was real, that the feelings she had been burying for so long were finally coming to the surface. The thought of it terrified her and exhilarated her all at once.

They stumbled backward, the chair scraping against the floor, until they were standing in the center of the room. Wally's hands moved to her face, cupping her cheeks gently, his thumbs tracing the line of her jaw. He kissed her again, this time with a passion that left her breathless, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her.

Her eyes searched his, questioning, and he nodded, confirming the unspoken question in her gaze. He took her hand and led her to his bed, their hearts racing in unison. The softness of the comforter was a stark contrast to the fire that burned within them. He laid her down, his eyes never leaving hers, and began to undo the buttons of her blouse.

With trembling fingers, he revealed her soft, bare skin, the sight of it making his breath catch in his throat. He leaned down to kiss her neck, feeling her shiver beneath his touch. His experience from the past whispered to him, guiding his actions, but it was the raw emotion in her eyes that truly directed him.

He pulled away, just enough to remove his own shirt. The sight of his bare chest made Y/N's heart skip a beat. The moonlight danced across his skin, casting shadows that highlighted the contours of his muscles. He was beautiful, she thought, and she felt a surge of desire so intense it was almost overwhelming.

Wally's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of hesitation. But all he saw was want, a mirror to his own feelings. He leaned down again, his lips finding hers, their kisses growing more frantic, more desperate as they shed their clothes.

The coolness of the room washed over their bare skin, sending shivers down their spines. His hands explored her body, learning every curve and plane as if he had never seen her before. Y/N's breath hitched as his tongue brushed over her nipple, a jolt of pleasure shooting straight to her core. She arched into his touch, her hands roaming over his back, feeling the tension in his muscles.

Their bodies intertwined, a tapestry of limbs and sighs. Wally took his time, savoring every moment, every sensation. He knew he had more experience than her, but it was her reactions, her unbridled passion, that guided him. He kissed his way down her body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

He reached the edge of her panties and paused, his eyes meeting hers. She nodded, her cheeks flushed, her breath shallow. He slipped them off, revealing the soft, damp heat of her sex. He took a moment to admire her, the way she was laid bare before him, offering herself completely.

Wally's hand slid down, his fingers teasing her folds. He felt her tense, her muscles tightening around him, and he knew she was ready. He slid a finger inside her, watching her eyes widen, her back arch. She was wet, so wet for him, and he couldn't wait any longer.

He positioned himself at her entrance, his heart hammering in his chest. He pushed in slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size, feeling her warmth envelop him. Her nails dug into his back, a silent plea for more, and he obliged, moving in and out with a steady rhythm.

Their breaths mingled, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. Y/N's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him deeper. He kissed her again, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hips. She moaned into his mouth, her body tightening around him as she approached her peak.

Wally felt the pressure building, the familiar tightness in his gut that signaled his climax was near. But he held back, focusing on her, on the way she felt, on the noises she made. He wanted to make her come first, wanted to show her that this was more than just sex, that it was a declaration of love and commitment.

Her breath grew ragged, her hips bucking against his, seeking release. He reached between them, his thumb finding her clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. Her eyes rolled back, a keening sound escaping her lips as she came apart, her body shuddering with pleasure.

And then it was his turn, the dam breaking as he let go, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave. He buried his face in her neck, his breath hot against her skin, as he emptied himself into her. They lay there, panting, their hearts beating in time with each other's, their bodies still connected.

The room was silent, save for the sound of their breathing and the rustling of the curtains in the breeze. Wally pulled out, his arms still shaking from the intensity of their love-making. He rolled onto his side, pulling her into his embrace.

They lay there, skin to skin, hearts racing, the tension of years of unspoken feelings finally dissipating into the night air. The world outside had continued to turn, but in that moment, all that mattered was the two of them, entwined in the warm cocoon of Wally's bed, finally admitting what they had both known for so long.

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spiceforyou

1 month ago

Heavy on this.

there’s something so hot about someone making you say that you belong to them 🫠

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spiceforyou

3 months ago

Wally all greasy and in those blue jumpsuits 🤤🤤🤤

Alphabet Soup

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

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

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

bon reading, frens

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Alphabet Soup - V

V is for Wally's very inappropriate use of company time. Bud Binns, grandson and owner of Reggie's Auto Repair, is in the garage, under the belly of another vintage car, hard at work and none the wiser.

The expo's in town, part of Split River's annual autumn fair that celebrates community spirit and agriculture. Wally couldn't give less of a shit, but car enthusiasts from orbiting towns have descended in droves and Wally likes the money. He's been up to his elbows in grease and oil since Monday; no time for himself. For homework. For football. For you.

He deserves every break he takes and Bud, so grateful for Wally volunteering his valuable time, shoos him to the break room with a gruff, "ya got fifteen minutes, kid." And, taking full advantage of the windowless room with the lock, Wally hunkers down on the couch and video calls you. He's pent up and frustrated and misses the way his name sounds when you moan it.

You answer after two rings, either having anticipated him or missing him, too, as you're wearing the wine-colored lace set that makes his mouth water. Barely-there bra, crotchless panties, stockings that bulge the flesh of your thighs above the band and make Wally's cock twitch. Your phone already set in the tripod Wally sent you from Amazon for exactly this reason.

"Hey, baby," He purrs, undoes his jeans onehanded, and cups himself. Legs spread wide. Massages his balls as he watches your body arch and curve while you ride the mount he slipped into your room when Janet wasn't looking. The dildo isn't as girthy as he is, but he doesn't want it to be—calling the shots for what toys you buy because he's got a thing about being the biggest cock to stuff your cunt. "You miss me that bad, huh, sweet girl?"

You moan, cheeks cherry red, plush lips parted around his name, a vision of hot desperation for him.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" He wants to know, cock hardening in his hand as he watches you sink and lift on the dildo. "You thinking about how good I make you feel?"

"I always think of you, Wally," And, fuck, yeah, that's it, pretty girl, show Wally how you like to be fucked. "Only you."

Wally leans into the back of the couch, holding himself, not ready to give in to his need just yet. "What're you thinking about, baby? Tell me what you're picturing. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

He swallows hard when you start describing the fantasy, your tits bouncing as you begin to ride the toy harder, faster, then slow and sensual, leaning back to show off where the dildo disappears inside you. His mouth goes dry as you move, his voice tense when he murmurs, dark and rough, "You like thinking about the way I feel inside you, baby girl? You think of it a lot, don't you?"

Grits his teeth, groans quietly, closing his eyes for a few seconds to rein his control. His cock throbs in his hand, flushed and dribbling; fuck, you're slutty little noises, the way your body moves like liquid metal, "Say my name again, baby. Just like that." And, finally, he spits in his hand and teases over the tip, uses pre to slick himself up so he can fuck his fist how he wants to fuck you. He hisses, a hot shiver running through him; that intense, euphoric flush through his entire body. The way you say his name drives him insane.

It's—fuck, God—it's so good. His eyes are glued to the screen, to you, to your hips, your tits, your face. Every sound you release makes his jaw tick as he loses himself.

"Need you so bad, Wally," You whine in pleasure, reaching for something offscreen. A buzz. A gasp. Holding the vibe against your clit as you bounce on the dildo. He can hear the juicy squelch of your pussy around the toy and he groans, eyes rolling back, skin tingling.

"Fuck, baby, your pussy's so wet for me." Wally licks his lips, eyes heavy and eclipsed with desire, "Show me how pretty you are when you come for me, baby."

You keen, "Wish it was you, Wally." His mind goes fucking blue screen when you choke, "You'd make me come so hard..."

"Yeah?" He pants, his hand moving faster, "You want me to make you come, sweet girl?"

He watches you watch him, sees how needy you are for his cock, and a smile flickers across his face. His head is swimming, chest heaving, so ready to come just from watching you, but he tries to hold it together, tries not to succumb to the urge. Not yet. Not until you do.

"Yeah...fuck, that's it. Ride it, baby..." Wally's flushed, head starting to spin. From the need, from wanting you, from how fucking good you are for him, his perfect little porn star. Oh, God, he hears a whimper, a moan, your body trembling as you cry out. A hushed groan, "Yeah? Are you coming for me, baby?"

And you shake, head tossed back, body rigid except your hips which grind the dildo inside you as you come apart. He strips his cock faster as he watches you, has to close his eyes, shit, he's so close, he just needs—

"Say it again, baby... I'm so close... Say it again. Say my name..."

You do, a sweet, breathy sob forming the syllables that send him crashing over the edge. Comes all over his fist, groan ripped from his chest, head falling back against the couch, holy fuck, baby girl, he already can't wait to do that again.

"My perfect girl," He praises between breaths and slopes you a lazy, satisfied smile.

But there's no time to bask in the afterglow, his fifteen minutes done, and he needs to get back to work before Bud comes looking. He ends the call with a promise to Snap later, it'll be worth it, baby. Stay up, okay?

Wally washes his hands, fixes his jeans, and saunters into the garage in the best mood he's been in all week.

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MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

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