Short Tales of W.O.E., Addamscest Vol. 1: Immediate Family
is a series of 3 short stand-alone drabbles involving the aberrant sexual exploits between Wednesday Addams, Gomez Addams, Morticia Addams, and Pugsley Addams. This is a return to the Old School method of sharing fandom drabbles: Minimal details in the description, because often times the drabbles take an unexpected turn (that's why a lot of us used to love punching out shorts like this). Because of that, these will be here for the time being before making their way to AO3.
There's oral sex, oral fixations, and sexual torture, respectively. Out of politeness:
I. Over My Dead Body (Ravendaddy, 234 words)
II. For All Its Worth (Worticia, 369 words)
III. I Just Want to Be Your Everything (Wugsley, 666 words)
Standard fan fiction disclaimers apply, you've been warned, and this post is marked as Mature Content. Reader discretion is advised, but I'm sure I'll hear screeching about it nonetheless.
P.S. The ONLY reason I'm even giving any of these warnings is because y'all kids are soft and whiny. Personally, I feel like these are pretty tame. Anyway, you've been warned, what you do with the next 90 seconds of your life is up to you.
Most lovingly dedicated to the ones who think that any of these trifling amusements are really that serious. 🤗
I. Over My Dead Body
He was captivated by his wife’s cold, dead eyes.
Gomez tightened his fingers in her hair. Her head was almost steaming with warmth as he threaded his eager shaft in and out of her mouth, her lips locked around his thick girth as if she were still alive.
For all he could feel at the tip of his cock, she was still alive.
And while her eyes had already clouded over in her lifeless gaze, he closed his eyes and imagined those big brown eyes staring up at him as she sucked him with an expertise that could have only been learnt from the best. His eyelids remained heavy as his brain buzzed with the immense pleasure of her tongue as it swept back and forth along the rigid projection of its underside upon the upward motion of her bob.
“Mmm…my little lamprey, your mouth is so talented, so skilled in its own right. But did you have to kill her?”
Wednesday dragged her lips up and off of his purpled cock to glance over her shoulder at her mother’s corpse as it sat in open-mouthed postmortem disapproval, her body bound by the ropes that had stolen her last gasps.
“You can't replace what hasn't been lost,” she shrugged, turning to swallow him whole again, her little fingers pressing against his belly fat to steady and rocket the cylindrical thickness back towards her throat.
✨✍🏽 🖤👔✨
II. For All Its Worth
The first time it happened, it came on seemingly suddenly out of nowhere during the second day’s third direct run. Of course, had the new mother been more attentive to her self-soothing motions, she might have shifted out of her autopilot fatigue to control her arousals.
“All Addams children were fed by the breast, Tish. The bond is essential for our children to grow happy and healthy.”
“Children? You mean you want more?”
Wednesday was born with a full head of raven hair, her onyx eyes open and woefully transfixed on anything placed in front of her face, including her mother’s swollen breast. When she wouldn't latch on the seventh feeding, Thing took it upon himself to shoo away any lookie-loos and locked the door behind him after a thumbs up to encourage peace and privacy.
It was a blend insomniatic brain fog coupled with the fuzzy, numbing feel of her baby’s hair under her fingers that caused her to drift towards a somnambulant focus on the tingling sensation tied in a taut string from her chest to her center that was normally present whenever Gomez sucked on her nipples during her passionately dispassionate lovemaking rituals. The tactile memories permeated that delicate membrane between wet dreaming and wakefulness, and she inhaled herself awake just as the orgasm hit.
For someone already so hypersexual, it was habit forming. Feedings immediately became permanently private behind her locked doors, and with the expected exception of Fester’s peephole snooping, not a single soul knew of the extra unnatural pleasures she took from the simple natural act. Every day, several times a day, for many months, it became a routine meeting of needs, and even once Pugsley came along, she would insistently shut herself away with her favored child, leaving her nipple-biting son with his obliviously proud father and a lukewarm bottle of formula at the other end of the mansion.
“May I go now, Mother?”
Morticia’s eyes refocused as her daughter pulled away. Her large, silently inquisitive eyes hadn't changed a bit in sixteen years, though the texture of her hair had roughened as much as her resentful pout.
“For all it’s worth, my little raincloud…I’ll miss you when you're back at Nevermore.”
✨✍🏽🖤🕊️✨
III. I Just Want to Be Your Everything
“Pugsley. This isn't what we agreed to.”
Each of her limbs was stretched tight across the mattress, the fur-lined cuffs on her wrists and ankles embarrassingly comfortable. It was almost as if he wanted her to like what he liked, and what he liked right now was to strip his sister nearly naked and chain her to the bed in the guest house’s bedroom in order to do with her as he wished; payback, for the terrible way she's been treating him since she got back from Nevermore.
It wasn't all his fault, but small creatures tend to freak out around larger ones, and this was the first time she’d seen him since his growth spurt. It had been less than a few weeks, but the boy seemed to have grown over a foot since she’d seen him last. He towered over her now, and would no longer be so easily stuffed into any more lockers any time soon.
“Pugsley. Untie me now.”
It wouldn't be so bad if he weren't humming to the crackly Andy Gibb coming through his retro stereo’s worn speakers, the pops and hisses of the persistent static thickening the air with something slightly more sinister than the deeply dispassionate boy who was unruffled by his sister’s pleas.
He turned and dragged his coffin-case towards the bed, unlocking and flipping its cover to reveal his collection of toys. She watched as his chubby little fingers reached for his feather vibrator, its custom black silicone barbules making up the vanes on either side of the shaft quiver as he stood up.
He licked his lips at the sight of his sister's smooth, strained petite frame and twirled the feather vibe in his fingers. He adjusted himself, but a quick glance at his action revealed his erection tenting his black cargoes.
That too, had grown.
He noticed her glance and his stupid grin grew wider. His humming continued as he brought the little silicone barbs to brush against her exposed nipple. It pipped, to a displeased cough held at the back of her throat.
She stared daggers at his deliberately oblivious concentration as he pipped the other nipple with an easy swipe of the cold metal handle; he’d flipped it in his palm to turn it on. The buzzing alone made her wetter, knowing what could be coming.
“Stop!”
His hand and the handle froze halfway down the center of her abdomen before he pulled back, swallowing over the clicking of the vibe’s power button. He finally stopped humming and brought his sunken eyes to her hard ones.
She sighed in frustration.
“Pugsley. Did you forget the rules of consent?”
He chewed on the inside of his upper lip before answering. “The ones in that old handbook from the 80s?”
“Yes.” Their awkward stare turned less awkward as his eyes dropped to his shoes, but she wasn't about to accept his defeat. She dipped her head to speak towards his eyeline, even though it didn't work. “Now what was the first rule? The very first one?”
She'd successfully locked back into his vacant stare, his eyes unsure but earnest.
“No means yes.”
He was confident, and correct.
She let her head fall back in its nod.
“Now do better.”
She waited expectantly, but saw no movement in her peripheral except for a strange straightening of his back and a step closer, the cool chrome handle of the vibe’s fat, insertable calamus being yet again drawn down and over her freshly shaven mons. He grinned again at his work, his aversion to body hair appeased.
“No.”
The buzz of the feather vibe carefully clicking back on through the silicone punctuated his firm answer and she couldn't hold back any longer: She moaned the second the tip of the metal handle slipped over her slickened hood and accidentally bumped against her clit.
She shifted her shoulders again with a smirk, twisting the ache of the stretch in her shoulders away within her subdued submission.
Have I mentioned that we've begun referring to the imposter Pugsley as Wugsley? We have. Also I am paranoid that Wugsley is a bobcat. Despite the fact that I don't think bobcats live in Michigan. He just stands weird. Also this means that my cat looks like a bobcat. Okay with this.
There's this cat that looks exactly like Pugsley that hangs out around our house and I'm hoping one day it (I think it's a boy but its body is kind of smallish so idk) will let me come close to it. I actually can't think of a reason a girl cat would want to hang around here. We mostly get boys who want to get it on with Ludwig. So it's probably a boy. But seriously it makes me paranoid that he has a doppelgänger and I check for things like his nose dot and the scar on his leg to make sure he's my cat even though the other cat won't let me within twenty feet of him.
