Disclaimer: this is a 18+ NSFW blog, most posts on here will contain dark and possibly gory scenes. If that's not your jam, you know what to do…
Intro...
I mainly write Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair and Wednesday Addams x Female Reader smut, but I'm open to requests for other Jenna characters and G/N and Male Reader.
I'll write just about anything requested as long as it’s sick, twisted and hot af.
As Wednesday returns from yet another one of her late-night excursions, she slips into the room like a shadow she, careful not to make a sound. , silent, deliberate, unseen by anyone but the walls.
She’s halfway to her desk before she notices you.
You’re curled on your side in bed, blanket rucked up around your hips, arms wrapped tightly around a soft pillow. Your face is relaxed, lips parted, hair a sleepy mess against the sheets.
Wednesday stops.
For a moment, she simply stares at the pillow.
It’s ridiculous, really, that a lump of stuffing and fabric should be given the honour of being held so tightly. Of being the thing you reach for in her absence. Something ugly and hot twists under her ribs.
She crosses the room in a few precise steps and unceremoniously tugs the pillow out of your arms.
You groan in protest, clutching at empty air, eyes still shut.
“You look so sleepy,” Wednesday says, studying your face like it’s evidence. Her hand slides down the length of the blanket until it finds your waist, resting there with quiet possession.
"But I think that I have something that will wake you up."
With a flick of her wrist, she produces a large hunting knife and tracing the cool metal along your collarbone, under your t-shirt leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. She leans in, kissing you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth with a knowing expertise. You begin to feel her other hand slowly sliding down to your inner thigh.
"What do you say? Are you going to lie there like a corpse or be a good girl and wake up for me?" she smirks and climbs on to the bed beside you clearly already knowing the answer.
Your eyes remain closed but you groan and squirm into her touch, enjoying the sensations from the sharp knife as well as her soft cold fingertips. You turn on your side towards the dark haired girl and groan a little, playfully snapping and trapping her hand between your thighs.
Wednesday stills, then lets out a low hum.
“Mmm,” she says, amusement curling at the edge of her words.
“It seems you’re more awake than you look.” she says, trailing the tip of the knife down your stomach and watching as your body shivers in anticipation.
She leans in and whispers softly in your ear, "But first, we need to get you out of these clothes.
Her eyes glitter in the dim light as she studies you, your flushed cheeks, your slow smile, your stubbornly closed eyes.
“How attached are you to that, t-shirt?” she asks lifting the fabric up with her knife to inspect it.
“Uhmm..it’s just an old bed t-shirt?” You say propping yourself up on to your elbows looking up into her dark gaze.
With that, she begins to slowly start cutting your oversized shirt with her knife, revealing your bare skin inch by inch.
Once your shirt is off, she straddles you and brings the knife to your chest, tracing patterns along your skin, leaving light red marks in place.
"You know how much i love to play with you, don't you?" she says with a smirk, before leaning down to kiss and bite at your neck.
Her free hand starts to trail down your body, teasingly slow as she makes her way towards your panties.
"Let's see how much you can take" She says, before sliding the knife under the elastic of your panties and letting it go with a snap.
You gasp at the contact and buck your hips hissing at the sting against your sensitive skin.
She looks at you her eyes predatory and chuckles softly watching you arch your back into her touch.
"You're so eager" she smirks down at you, before sliding a finger under the elastic of your panties, this time running her fingers through your folds lightly.
"But patience is a virtue, and I want to savor every moment," she murmurs, running the knife over your chest before leaning down to bite at your nipple and suck it into her mouth throwing the knife to one side.
"Mmm, you feel so good," she moans softly, her breath hot against your skin as she continues to move her hands through your slickness with an expert touch.
She almost winces when she feels how wet you are, taking a breath, to compose herself. You don’t need to look down to know there’s a semi-hard bulge beginning to form in her pants.
"But I think you’re still a little too tired to play," she says, before beginning to pull away, a wicked gleam in her eye.
You groan at the loss of her touch and grab her hand before it moves away entirely, looking into her eyes with desperation as you whisper. “P-Please don’t stop, i need your touch…please touch me.”
She smirks at your desperate plea and leans down to kiss you deeply, her fingers moving back to your swollen clit. "That's a good girl," she says, breaking the kiss and watching as you pant and writhe against her, her touch not faltering against your aching centre. "But I want to hear you say it louder.“
She watches you intently waiting for an answer, but when she doesn’t get one she decides to push further, dropping her fingers to circle your sopping wet hole teasing it lightly as your face contorts in pleasure.
"Come on... tell me how badly you want it," she says, her hand movements become hard, fast and tight against you building up an inferno within you.
“Fuckk…I want it so badly, please don't stop.” you all but scream, but it doesn’t help because she takes her hand away again, moving to stand at the side of the bed.
You can’t help but whine dropping your full weight flat to the bed as you roll over on to your stomach, kicking your legs as you moan and squirm in agony. You were so close.
She strokes your hair gently. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you." Her expression is momentarily soft, but it quickly shifts back to her signature mischievous grin, a glint of wickedness returning to her eyes.
"I want you to get on all fours for me, mi perdición," she says, her voice low and commanding as she watches you with a predatory gaze. "And I want you to show me just how much you crave my touch. I want you to show me just how bad you want it," she continues, before reaching for the knife and tracing it along your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
As you get on all fours, your stomach flutters with arousal as you feel her move behind you, her now fully hard bulge pressed against your ass as she puts her hands on your hips.
You decide to have a little fun as you drop down lower putting your head to the bed, and your arms out in front of you as you raise your ass to fully present yourself to her, to fully submit and hopefully show her how much you want it.
“Like this? You want me all spread out for you like this?” You say playfully waggling your ass up in the air.
You gasp as she ends your teasing short by grabbing slapping your ass hard.
"Mmm, yes, that’s it" her voice is low and sultry as she runs the knife over your ass cheek and down in between your thighs, “Don’t move” she says sternly before lightly grazing the knife over your pussy. Your breathing hitches, careful not to move a muscle.
"You look so fucking hot like this, all spread out and desperate for me," she continues, before leaning down, placing her hands on either side of your head, to bite at your neck and suck on your pulse point leaving an angry red mark.
You watch her through the reflection of the knife beside your head as she leans back up to bite at your earlobe and whisper, "Now beg for me, my little slut. Beg for me to take you."
As she speaks to you in a degrading tone, you find yourself biting your lip in both pleasure and shame. All you want to do in this moment is to surrender to her completely, to give in to her every whim and desire.
“Fuck me….Wednesday. I want you to take me so bad. I want to feel you. All of you. I’m so ready…please.” You wince and pant the words out, her teeth biting down on your shoulder with each word you utter and distracting you.
She pulls back and looks down at you “Good girl” she says before slapping your ass and sliding her fingers in to you without warning, causing you to gasp loudly. Her other hand with the knife resting on the top of your ass to hold you in place.
"Mmm, you're so wet for me," she says, her voice husky with desire as she feels you clench around her fingers. “So wet…and so tight. All for me.” she chuckles slapping your cheek again but harder making you whimper a little.
"But I want to get you even wetter.” She says, before adding another finger and thrusting them inside of you. “I want to make you cum so hard you see stars, mi perdición"
She throws the knife to one side and leans down to your ear again, spare hand now caressing your chest and rolling your nipples between her fingers.
“See..all you had to do was ask”. She scoffs “Well…beg” she plunges her fingers in harder, “and I’ll happily oblige” her breath is hot against your skin.
"You're mine to control, to use as I please. And right now, I want to hear you beg for release." her voice low and commanding as she continues to finger you with increasing speed and intensity.
You nod and bounce feeling your orgasm build and get closer and closer with each thrust from her magical fingers, but it’s not enough.
“I…I want to feel your cock inside of me…please…I need it. I want to cum around it. PLEASE”
She smirks at your desperate plea and slowly slides her fingers out of you so that she can pull her cock out of her pants, her other hand remaining tightly on your hip.
"Mmm, you're so needy for me. You’re so wet, you’re dripping" she says, her voice low and sultry as she positions herself behind you. "But I don’t think you’re quite needy enough" she says, before running the tip of her cock along your slick folds, teasing you with its size and girth.
She starts to rub her cock against your clit, feeling the slickness of your arousal coating her and she can’t help but moan lightly. "Tell me how badly you want me inside of you," she says, her voice growing louder a little with irritation at your lack of reply.
You can’t seem to find the words, you try but they don’t come, instead you whimper to show that you’re still there…barely.
She leans down to bite at your earlobe and whisper softly in your ear, "Beg for it like the little slut you are. Beg for me to fuck you until you can't take it anymore."
You moan loudly as she teases your clit with her hard cock and you can’t help but buck your hips on top of it trying to build up pleasure from the feeling
“I…I….please” you realise you can barely talk, and it comes out as a whisper, you’re so needy and so desperate for her you’re consumed by it.
You know it’s not going to be enough so you clear your throat and try again “Please fuck me, I want you to fuck me so badly. I need it. I’m begging you… please” your eyes begin to well up with tears at your growing anticipation.
You feel her cock twitch against you at the sound of your desperate plea, and she pulls back slightly and slowly pushes her cock inside of you, inch by inch until she’s buried to the hilt.
"Mmm, that's it, that’s my good girl," she says, her voice low and sultry as she starts to move inside of you with slow, deliberate strokes. "You feel so fucking good around me," she murmurs, before leaning down to bite at your neck and suck on the sensitive skin.
She picks up the pace, her hips slamming into yours with increasing speed and intensity. "That's it, take it all," she growls, her voice low and commanding as she uses you for her own pleasure. Her hands wrapping around your waist back pressed against yours, as she leans on top of you rutting her hips above you, her lips next to your ear.
"You're mine to use…” *thrust* “and abuse…” *thrust* “to pleasure” *thrust* “and punish as I see fit.” she leans forward slightly grab your hands from in front of your head and holds them together behind your back, pulling you upwards, lifting your head and chest away from the bed and on to her cock with vigorous force.
“And right now, I want you to cum for me, my little slut," she continues to fuck you hard and fast.
"Show me how much you want it. Show me how much you need to cum for me," she says, her voice becoming more insistent as she feels her own release starting to build.
You can feel your body tensing up, on the brink of orgasm, as she starts to move inside of you with even more intensity, her hips slamming into yours with a loud slapping sound, hitting that perfect spot inside of you just right.
You speak but it comes out in broke breaths “i’m so close…p-please… don’t stop. want to…come for you. need to…come for you”
"That's it," she says, her voice low and commanding as she reaches down to rub your clit with her fingers, rubbing up and down the sensitive bud in a circular motion. "Come for me, my little slut. Let go and come for me," she says, her own arousal building to a fever pitch.
As you start to come undone, your pussy clenches violently around her cock, and she lets out a loud groan as she feels her own release building and spreading through her body.
"Fuck, you feel so good around me" she growls, before starting to move even faster, chasing her own release.
"Cum with me," she says, before finally letting go and cumming deep inside of you, her body shuddering with pleasure as she fills you up with her hot, sticky release. It feels like
Once you’re both spent, she collapses on top of you, her breath coming in short gasps as she tries to catch her breath. "Mmm, that was good," she says, before leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. "But we're not done yet,I have a few more things in mind for us to try."
summary: Reader interrupts Wednesdays writing time to “play” and Wednesday punishes them by making reader ride her thigh and refusing to touch them until they can’t take it anymore.
warnings: 18+ | dry-humping | edging | praise kink, degradation | humiliation | orgasm denial | strap-on referred to as cock.
a/c: it seems that we’ve evolved into full smut territory 🤔
You push the door open, and as you step into the room, the quiet is broken by the rhythmic clacking of keys. Wednesday sits at her antique desk, shrouded in the dim, amber light from the old lamp beside her. The glow casts long shadows across her face, making her pale skin almost ethereal, her inky black hair spilling over her shoulders.
She’s hunched over her typewriter, her fingers moving with a precision and urgency that is almost musical, tapping out a steady rhythm that fills the otherwise silent room.
Despite the abruptness of your entrance, Wednesday doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t even pause.
One perfectly shaped brow arches a fraction, the only acknowledgement that you’ve intruded on sacred ground. Her gaze stays fixed on the paper in front of her as she types, line after line feeding through the carriage.
You stand there for a moment, just watching her. The straight line of her back. The tight braid draped over one shoulder. The faint crease between her brows showed in the reflection of the window, that only appears when she’s focused, or irritated.
Probably both.
You cross the room and slide your arms around her shoulders from behind, pressing your front to the back of her chair. Your cheek finds hers, warm skin against cool, your lips close enough to brush her temple.
“Hey, Wends,” you murmur into the shell of her ear. “I missed you.”
She goes very still in your arms. Not soft, not melting, rigid, like a cat deciding whether to tolerate a hug or claw its way out of it. Her fingers keep moving over the keys, but you can feel the tension in her shoulders under your hands.
“Can’t you see I’m working?” she says. The words drop like ice into the small room. “What do you want?”
You smile against her cheek, entirely unbothered. “You,” you say simply.
She exhales through her nose. On anyone else, it would be a sigh; on Wednesday, it sounds more like a warning. You ignore it, tightening your arms just enough to pull her back into you, letting your breath fan warm over the side of her face.
“C’mon, Wends,” you whisper, letting the nickname curl around her like smoke. “Don’t be boring. I want to play.”
Her fingers never miss a key, but you feel something flicker deep in the muscles of her back, a small, traitorous jump at your words. You slide one hand down, fingertips tracing along the sharp edge of her collarbone, then lower, brushing the fabric of her shirt over her sternum in a light, teasing path.
She keeps typing.
The only sign she’s affected at all is the tiniest hitch in the rhythm of the keys, so small you almost miss it.
Almost.
But you ignore her protest, pressing your body against hers, your hot breath against her ear.
“C’mon Wends….don’t be boring, I want to play” Wednesday feels a flicker deep inside, as you trace a finger along her collarbone and down her chest, but tries to squash it down ruthlessly. Not wanting to be controlled by her desires. She continues to type and ignore you as you hold on to her.
You huff at the lack of attention or reaction and decide to step up your efforts a little. You lean in to leave gentle kisses along her neck and rub circles up her tight shoulders. As you work on the knots with an expert touch, a wave of relaxation courses through her muscles and she lets out a small groan. Despite her annoyance, it's clear that she's enjoying your touch.
The carriage of the typewriter dings at the end of the line. Wednesday pushes it back with a sharp, efficient shove, the motion bumping you slightly. You only hold on tighter, arms banding around her front so she can feel every small rise and fall of your chest against her back.
“Some of us,” she says crisply, “have deadlines. Editors. Expectations.”
“And some of us,” you say, “have needs.”
“That sounds like a you problem,” Wednesday says.
You smile. “I don’t know. You sound a little tense, too.”
Your hand drifts back up, fingers spreading over her collarbones, thumb brushing at the base of her throat. You feel her pulse trip faster for a beat, just a heartbeat, just a slip, but it’s enough to make you inhale a little sharper.
“I’m fine,” she says immediately.
“Hmm.” You press your cheek more firmly against hers, closing your eyes for a moment, breathing her in. “Liar.”
She finally stills.
The keys fall silent mid-sentence. The absence of the typewriter’s clatter is almost a physical shock; the room seems too quiet now, all the sound of your breathing and hers and the faint hum of the old light.
“Remove your hands,” she says, voice low.
You tighten your hold instead. “No.”
She turns her head the slightest fraction, just enough that you can see one dark eye in profile, reflecting you back in miniature. “You’re being exceptionally needy,” she observes.
“Maybe,” you say. “Maybe I just missed my writer.”
“You saw me at breakfast,” she replies.
“You were reading obituaries and ignoring me,” you correct.
“Those were human interest pieces,” she says.
You take a deep breath and lean whispering into her ear, your breath hot. “Please baby..come play with me. I need it so bad”
You feel her body go from relaxed and deflated to tense and rigid, her entire demeanour changing in a matter of seconds. “Is that so?”
In one swift motion, she grabs your wrists, the sudden force of it almost taking you off guard. Before you can process, she pulls you into her lap, her lips crashing against yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. You settle into her, her body steady beneath you, and she guides you with practiced precision, positioning you to straddle her thigh.
Her hands don’t leave you. One still holds your wrist, the other moves to your hip, guiding you, controlling the space between you.
"You can ride my thigh" She says, her voice low and commanding. "But don't you dare try to touch me."
As you begin to grind against her thigh, moaning softly, she watches dispassionately, her hand lazily holding your hips as her eyes flicker back to the page sat in her typewriter.
You let out a whine, trying to catch her attention again eliciting a low evil snicker, as she rubs circles against your hip bone.
“Look at you,” she says softly, her breath hot against your ear. “So desperate for me. Couldn’t even wait for me to finish, could you?”
She pulls you in closer, the hint of a smirk playing on her lips, daring you to contradict her. Her fingers digging into your hips as she now thrusts her thigh up to meet your movements. “Such a needy little slut.”
You nod your head, biting your lip as you feel an intense pleasure building between your thighs. “mmm…so needy. mmm…want you so bad.”
She removes her hands from your hips, leaning back into the chair, her fingers curling around the arms as she locks her gaze on you. Looking at you, her head tilting to one side, eyes dark and unyielding. “I don’t think you deserve it,” she says, her tone deliberately cold. “You interrupted me, selfishly. I don’t think I’ll be so generous this time.”
A small, satisfied smirk curls at the corner of her lips as she watches your expression shift, your pout betraying the frustration you try to hide.
She takes her time, enjoying the power shift, savouring the way you react to her control.
“If you’re really so needy…” she says, her fingers curling around your throat with cold precision, pulling you in closer until her breath brushes against your skin.
“…that desperate and selfish…” Her grip tightens, the pressure on your throat cutting off your air just enough to make your pulse race.
“…you’ll put in the work yourself.” The words are a command, her voice dripping with condescension as she squeezes your throat harder, making sure you feel every ounce of control she has.
“Ride my thigh like the dirty little slut that you are.” She emphasizes the final words with another sharp squeeze.
Letting go of your throat with a suddenness that feels almost cruel, her hands return to the armrests, the motion casual, as if the power struggle means nothing to her.
Her eyes lock onto you, waiting for a reaction, her smirk returning, cold and unforgiving.
You nod, a silent agreement to her challenge. Slowly, you begin to move, your body rolling against hers with deliberate precision. Each movement is calculated, your hips swaying and grinding in a slow rhythm that builds the tension between you, giving her a show she can’t ignore.
The fabric of your panties vibrates against your swollen clit as you grind faster, becoming wetter with each thrust.
Her grip on the armrests tightens, but she doesn’t stop you. Instead, her lips curl into that knowing smirk, as if she’s pleased you’re following her command so eagerly. You can feel the weight of her gaze like a physical presence, and it makes your movements more urgent, more precise.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” she says, her voice cold, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as her gaze flicks up to meet yours.
“Pathetic.” The word falls from her lips like ice, barely audible, but it cuts through you, driving a sharp pang of humiliation into your chest.
You can’t help but whimper at the cruel way she deconstructs you with just a word. The fire it sparks inside of you is immediate, burning hot and fast. Your movements become more urgent, the pace quickening against her, each roll of your body a silent rebellion to her control.
She watches, unbothered, as you fall deeper into your need. Her fingers tighten on the armrests, holding her steady while you try to chase that feeling she’s forced upon you, that undeniable reaction to her words.
"Come here," she commands, beckoning you closer with a flick of her finger.
"You're just a toy to me," she continues, her voice low, dripping with something dangerous.
"Something to play with when I'm bored."
Her words sting, but they don’t stop you. Instead, they fuel the fire inside of you, pushing you to move faster, to challenge her control.
You feel a flush of arousal and begin to move faster, feeling your pleasure build with each thrust. Her eyes narrow as she surveys you, a smirk slowly curling on her lips.
“But you’re such a pretty little toy,” she whispers, her hand coming up to reach along the side of your neck.
You moan and melt into her as she caresses she and begins stroke your hair, a gasp escaping your lips as she wraps the length of it around her hand holding it tight and tugging your face down so that your eyes meet hers.
"You like that, don't you?" she says in a sultry voice. “You like being my pretty little play thing? doing everything I say while I whisper dirty things in your ear, hmm?”
You nod your head repeatedly, “mmmm…yes…love it. I love being your pretty little toy” you choke out messily bouncing against her thigh chasing the pleasure, as you feel your orgasm building.
"You're such a selfish little slut, riding my thigh like that, using me for your own pleasure“ She begins grinding her thigh up against your core with force making you almost choke on the air.
“But you're not getting any release until I say so."
"Please, Wednesday," you moan, your hips bucking against hers.
"Not yet," She says firmly, pulling your hair tighter. "You're mine to control, and I decide when you get to cum. Now, keep riding my thigh and beg for it."
You move against her thigh, pushing your clit down against it with bruising pace, chasing your orgasm closely but stopping yourself from going over the edge without her say so. “I-Please Wednesday I’m so close, I need it so bad.“
She smirks at your desperate plea, enjoying the power she has over you. "Oh, you really are that desperate, aren't you?" she teases, her hand still firmly gripping your hair. "But I'm not ready to give you what you want just yet."
She leans in closer to you, her breath hot against your ear. "You need to learn patience," she whispers. "You can't always get what you want, when you want it, mi perdición."
You whine slowing down your thrusts to stop yourself from falling over the edge, settling for slow long thrusts along the length of her thigh.
She lets go of your hair and sits back once again, watching you as she feels your body trembling against hers, battling to stop your orgasm from taking over. But she isn’t ready to let you cum just yet. She wants to keep you on the edge, to make you wait and beg for her touch.
"Perhaps I'll let you cum," she says, her eyes locked on yours with that piercing, almost calculating gaze, her fingers rhythmically tapping against the arm of the chair.
"But you have to earn it," she adds, voice laced with challenge. "Show me just how badly you want it, and maybe then I'll consider giving it to you."
You can’t help the whine that escapes you, desperate for her attention, for her approval. “Please, Wednesday,” you beg, your voice trembling. “I…I’ll do anything to prove myself to you.”
Her gaze drops to you, cold and predatory, the weight of her stare almost suffocating. "Anything?" she repeats, her voice a little lower now, like a razor edge. "You’re willing to do whatever it takes to earn the privilege?"
She moves her hand to run down your back, touch prickling your sensitive skin. "Well then, let's see just how much of a good little slut you can be," She says, her voice dripping with dominance, a devilish grin on her face.
"Get down on your knees and beg for me. Beg for my hand to touch you and give you what you want," she commands, her eyes locked onto yours. "And don't stop until I tell you to."
You climb off of the chair and get on your knees, and begin to beg for her to touch you. “P-please touch me, I need your hands on my body, please.”
She looks down at you, on your knees and begging for her touch. Feeling the power coursing through her veins, knowing that she’s completely in control of you.
"Good girl," she says with a smirk, moving her hand to cup your chin and tilt your head up. "But i’m afraid, that's just not good enough. I want you to tell me just how badly you want me to touch you. How badly you want me to make you cum."
Her fingers trail down your neck, over your collarbone, and then to your chest. Your body arches in response and she pauses for a moment feeling your heartbeat racing beneath her touch, relishing in the way you squirm shifting your weight between your legs, whimpering submissively.
You let out a low whine as your body aches for some kind of release or pressure, your limbs on fire with desire. “I need your touch, please… I want to come so badly, I need it so bad, please don't make me beg anymore.”
Your eyes well up as you star to feel overwhelmed with desire.
She chuckles darkly at your appearance, watching a stray tear fall down your cheek. "Oh, but begging is half the fun," she taunts, her hand moving to wipe away the tear and down to trail over your breasts.
You arch into her barely her touch once again chasing any sensation, desperate for her hands on your body, reduced to a whimpering mess.
She trails her hand lower tracing your abdomen and settling between your legs, feeling the wetness that had soaked through your panties.
“Are you ready? Are you ready to prove that you can be a good little slut?” She presses her fingers against your clothed mound and halts, looking down at you waiting for a reply.
You almost trip over your words to answer like an obedient pet. “I-I am- it, I’m ready to be your good little slut” You pant out breathlessly, frozen against her touch waiting for her next movement or command obediently.
"Right answer" she whispers, her hand moving to pull your panties to the side.
She slips a finger through your folds, feeling the slick wetness that coats them. "Mmmm…you're so wet for me," She murmurs, her fingers teasing your wet tight hole, circling it teasingly as you grab your thighs and dig your nails in to the soft flesh. She watches as your nails pierce into the flesh, her pupils now full blown.
Without warning she enters you and begins to move her fingers in and out of you, slowly almost teasingly. "Now move" she says with a wicked grin. "Show me."
You groan as you begin to bounce hard against her hand, making her go deeper, harder and faster than before. Your hips and her hand meeting together in the middle with a hard slap with each thrust. You feel her begin to move away and your hands fly down to hold on to her arm as you shamelessly rut against her hand. Whimpering and holding yourself back as you dance along the edge of your orgasm
“Fuckk…Fuck…im so close, I’m so close to the edge I-“ your sentence is cut off, a loud moan erupts from deep within as Wednesday curls her fingers in just the right way. You throw your head back in pleasure as you prepare to fall over the edge, just one more push.
She smirks at your desperation, enjoying the delicious sight before her. "Look at you…so desperate and needy " She teases, removing one of her fingers and slowing down, moving in and out of you at an agonisingly slow and soft pace. "But I'm not ready to let you cum just yet."
With that, She pulls her fingers out of you, breaking from your grasp and leaving you on the edge of your orgasm. "But don't worry," she says, her voice low and sultry. "I have something else in mind for you."
She stands up from her chair and takes a couple of steps away from you, nearing the bed and rolling up her sleeves, rustling in the drawer for something, and before you can begin to wonder what she’s up to she speaks again snapping you out of your trance. "Now, get on the bed and position yourself on your hands and knees," She commands, her eyes locked onto yours as she looks over her shoulder to see you still kneeling near her desk chair like an obedient puppy.
You eagerly comply and begin to stand up heading over to the bed but you stop as she walks over to your direction and pushes you back down on to your knees. “Crawl.” is all that she says before releasing your shoulder so that you can move.
She watches with amusement as you crawl towards the bed on your hands and knees, watching your ass wiggle as your skirt, now pushed over your ass, reveals your half covered pussy in white cotton soaked panties still pushed to one side.
A clear sign that you’re both eager to please and desperate for release. "Hmmm… good girl," she says following you with a smirk, her hand moving to caress your ass as you crawl on to the bed.
Her hand moves up to hold the back of your neck as she pushes your head further down to the bed, making you fully present on all fours as she positions herself behind you. She runs her hands over the swell of your ass, feeling the soft curves and smooth skin beneath her touch. "You have such a pretty little ass," She murmurs, giving it a hard slap, making you gasp at the contact.
She doesn’t bother removing your pants as she positions the head of her strap-on at your entrance and begins to push inside, slowly filling you up. A small moan escapes her lips as she watches her length disappear and sink into you.
"Now, show me just how much you need to cum," she commands, her hips beginning to move in a slow steady rhythm.
"Take my cock and beg for more."
You push back against the strap-on eager to please and take as much as possible but somehow it doesn’t feel like enough. She’s unmoving and she’s not fully inside, clearly still trying to tease you so that you’ll beg her for more… and after a few sloppy thrusts you give in.
“Mmm… fuck… please… need more. need it harder… I want to take all of you. I want to be so fucking full of you that I can’t breathe”
She smirks at your eagerness, leaning down to your ear and moving her hand around the front of you to grasp your throat. “Hmm… I never knew you were such a fucking slut for my cock” She gives one hard thrust causing you to squeak. “You should be very careful what you wish for, my dear.”
She grabs your hips and begins to thrust harder and faster into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.
"You like that, don't you?" she taunts, her hand moving to grip your hair and pull your head back from off of the bed, holding you up and impaling you on the hard length, poking and prodding that sensitive spot inside you.
"Look at you, taking my cock like a good little slut."
You can feel the heat building, the tension and anticipation reaching a fever pitch.
She ruts into vigorously as you whimper and moan with each deep thrust, your body threatening to give in to the sensation and come.
"But you're not allowed to come yet," she says, slowing down to an agonising pace that so that she’s almost not moving. "Not until I say so."
She immediately pulls out of you and flips you onto your back. "Spread your legs for me," She commands, positioning herself between them. "And show me just how badly you want my cock."
You spread your legs wide open, whimpering and squirming on the bed, the sheer need to come overwhelming your senses and consuming you whole. Your centre throbs violently begging for release.
She smirks down at you, taking in the sight of you spread out before her, your cheeks flushed, a light sheen of sweat on your skin and your body convulsing and begging for release.
"You're so fucking needy," she taunts, her hand moving to stroke the length of the strap-on.
You close your eyes and whimper, unable to form words as the head of her strap-on pokes at your entrance again, pushing inside and filling you up completely.
You groan at the feeling when she begins to move in a steady rhythm, her hips thrusting against yours as she watches your face as it contorts and you moan beneath her completely lost in the pleasure and pain.
You’re sure that you can’t take it anymore.
You’re so lust drunk in chasing those delicious feelings and sensations that you start to touch yourself without thinking, your hand sloppily rubbing circles against your swollen clit chasing your orgasm.
Wednesday watches for a while as you begin to touch yourself, your fingers moving messily against your clit, listening to the soft moans and groans that escape your lips. "Oh, poor thing. You're so desperate, aren't you?" She pouts, her hand moving to grip your wrist and stop your movements. "But you don't get to until I say so."
She begins to thrust into you with unrelenting force, grasping your legs and moving them over her shoulders. A squeak escapes your lips as she bottoms out inside of you and hits the top of your cervix, causing a delicious burst of pain and pleasure.
She continues her attack, her arms wrapped tightly around your legs, using them for momentum as she thrusts hard and fast, reducing you to a sweaty moaning mess beneath her and taking you to the edge again before grinning and removing herself from you.
She looks down at you with dark eyes watching you whimper at the you feeling of being empty so suddenly, your pussy clenching around nothing.
She seems to take pity on you after a while and l fills you back up with her fingers moving them in and out of you with ease.
“You’re so wet, you’re literally dripping and ruining my sheets…pathetic” She pulls out and lifts her hand to your mouth holding out her glistening fingers for you to suck. You hungrily take the digits in your mouth, eyes shutting as you suck them slowly and moan.
She removes her fingers from your mouth with a pop, pushing them back inside of you, watching your eyes roll back and body arch into her. "You want to cum, don't you?" She whispers, her breath hot against your ear. "You want to come all over my fingers like the dirty little whore you are."
She increases her speed, faster and harder, her fingers curling inside you as she brings you closer and closer to the edge. "You need to beg for it first. Beg for my permission to come."
You screw your eyes up tight, trying to focus and take a deep breath “P-Please…. I NEED it so badly it…it…it hurts.”
"BEG," she commands "Beg for my permission to cum."
You whine loudly before continuing “FUCK…please… I’m begging you to please let me come. Please may I have your permission.”
She can feel the heat building, your pussy beginning to clench, she knows you are too close to the edge that she couldn’t bring you back again. "LOUDER," she says, her fingers moving in and out of you with more intensity. "Beg for it like the dirty little whore you are."
“PLEASE….I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE. I NEED TO COME. PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU” You all but scream at her hoping that this time she’ll listen to you.
Her lips curl in to a devilish smile as she watches you in full submission beneath her, begging her so shamelessly for your release, but unable to without her permission.
"Fine," She says, her voice low and commanding. “You’ve been such a good girl, holding out for so long, I think you deserve your reward now, don’t you?” You nod quickly and repeatedly unable to form words as you cling to the knifes edge of your orgasm.
"You have my permission. But only if you scream my name as you do it."
She continues moving her fingers faster and harder, twisting them, curling them and pushing you over the edge. "Cum for me," she demands "Cum all over my fingers and scream my name."
“FUCKKKKK…WEDNESDAY….I’m coming.” You scream her name repeating it like a mantra as you come undone, feeling waves of intense pleasure wash over you.
Your body goes stiff and begins to convulse, a wave of goosebumps covering your flesh as you ride out your orgasm.
She watches with satisfaction "Good girl, that’s it, cum for me" She says with a smirk, her fingers still pumping inside you, prolonging your pleasure.
Finally, she pulls her fingers out and moves to lay beside you, her hand stroking your hair as you come down from your high. "You did so well, mi perdición" She says with a smile kissing you on the head before standing up and moving towards the sink. You turn over on to your side watching her groggily, still high from the ecstasy of your orgasm as she removes the strap-on.
“Now that you’re satisfied may I continue my writing?” It’s more of a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway as you watch her wash her hands at the sink and settle back down in her chair, cracking her knuckles before beginning to type.
“Thank you.” is the last thing you remember saying as you feel the exhaustion in your limbs and sleep begin to take over, watching and listening to your beautiful, powerful girlfriend type away.
summary: After a late night shower, you find Wednesday waiting and watching your reflection in the mirror. You should know by now Wednesday can’t help but play with you when you’re fresh out of the shower.
a/c: sorry I haven’t posted in a while but enjoy my first spicy post 🌶️
Steam still curled in the air as you stand at the mirror, towel wrapped tight around you, damp fabric clinging stubbornly to your skin. Your reflection looks a little dazed, lips parted, hair dripping in uneven waves down your shoulders.
Behind you, sitting at her desk, Wednesday's eyes roam hungrily over your wet body. She rises without a sound, movements quiet and deliberate.
You see her in the glass first, dark, sharp, inevitable, moving until her small frame filling the space just at your back. Her gaze sweeps over you, assessing every curve, as if you were something laid out on a slab ready to be dissected.
Her slender hands brush over your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but jump a little.
“Hold still,” she murmured.
Cool fingers slide up to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly, her touch more command than comfort. You can feel the heat of her body at your back, the whisper of her breath brushing your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
"Shhh, don't move… just breathe,” she said softly. “In… and out.”
She draws in a slow breath, and you find yourself matching it, chest rising and falling with hers. It’s, measured, deliberate, in time with the girl behind you who never seems to lose control of anything.
The intensity of her grip begins tightening around your throat. The room feeling smaller, the air thicker, every inhale suddenly feeling like something you had to earn.
Her other hand moves to your waist, to slip off your towel and pull you closer to her. You can feel her body pressed against yours, her semi-hard cock poking at your ass. The heat and hardness of her against your soft skin sending waves of arousal all throughout your body.
“Shh,” she murmurs, fingers freezing in place on your throat. “Respira conmigo, mi perdición.”
She watches you in the mirror, eyes never leaving your face, deliberately slowing it just to see if you’ll follow… and you do.
"Do you like that? To be controlled like this, to have your breath taken away? It's such a rush, isn't it?" she whispers, another wave of arousal pulsing through you. Legs beginning to feel weak as you feel your clit throb with desire.
You moan in response and nodded your head, unable to speak due to the limited air supply. “Mmhhm…” was all you could manage to get out.
Her lips ghost over the curve of your neck before settling, kissing there once, twice, then again as she follows a careful line down to your shoulder.
Her grip on your throat tightening slightly as she started to move her hips against you, grinding into you rhythmically. The friction of her body against yours intoxicating.
She keeps you on her rhythm, grip easing and returning in subtle pulses, pulling each breath out of you like notes from a cello, low and controlled.
Her other hand moves around you, expertly gliding down your abdomen. She inches lower and lower, torturously slow, before slipping between your legs to run her fingers through your wet folds. You can’t help but gasp as she finally gets there, where you need her most, the sensation of her fingers on your sensitive flesh.
Wednesday smirks to herself as she feels your body respond to her touch, hips bucking into her hand desperate for more. She likes being in control, she likes the power she has over you.
“Look at you, so responsive… so wet and so eager to be touched” Wednesday chuckles softly, her breath hot against your ear.
She continues to tease you with her fingers, alternating between slow, focused strokes and harder, more intense and sloppy circles. Her grip on your throat tightening again as she leans in close to your ear.
"Tell me, darling. Do you like it when I’m rough? Do you like to be pushed to your limits?"
She nips at your earlobe lightly before pulling back slightly to watch your reaction.
You moan in response, the air barely escaping your throat. She loosens her grip slightly to let you speak and when she does you gasp for air.
“Y-Yes… fuck…I do, I love it. I love it when you push me to my limits. Please don’t stop,” you said as you bucked your hips greedily against her hand.
Wednesday grinned at your response, her hand beginning to speed up, mercifully faster, exactly the pace you’ve been silently begging for. Keeping her grip on your throat tight, but not enough to cut off your breathing completely.
"Good, mi perdición. I love it too. Let me show you just how rough I can be."
Without warning, she spins you around almost instantly to face her, pushing you flush against the mirror by your throat. The cold surface against your back sends shivers down your spine.
Her hand firmly presses against your pulse point, pressing down hard and watching as you gasp helplessly. Fear and anticipation flicker in your eyes, unmistakeable, and she devours the sight.
"You're mine now. Mine to do with as I please."
She moves in without warning, lips claiming yours in a hard, uncompromising kiss. Her tongue tracing the line of your lips before pushing into your mouth and exploring every inch. The taste of her is intoxicating, and you eagerly return the same passion.
As she kisses you, her hand between your legs returns growing more insistent, her fingers moving faster and harder against your aching center. A couple more movements and a warm pool begins to form in your lower abdomen as you grow closer and closer to your sweet release.
You continue to buck your hips against her, moaning lightly and gasping at the pleasure building between your legs. The sensation was overwhelming, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge for what seems like forever.
She broke the kiss, pulling back to look into your eyes.
"Cum for me, ma chérie. Let go and cum for me."
She continues to fuck you, her soft fingers pressing against your clit in tight, circular motions as she watches your body begin to unfold and tremble with pleasure.
Her own breathing grows faster and shallower as she watches you writhe in pleasure beneath her touch, prolonging your orgasm until you are gasping for breath and beg wordlessly and in uncontrollably whining.
Her eyes burn with lust as she watches you. She smiles wickedly and slows down, before speaking.
"I want to feel you from the inside. Are you ready for me?"
You nod, barely able to contain your desire for her. She pulls her hand away, her fingers still glistening with your juices. She spreads your legs apart with one knee and kneels down to position herself between them, her eyes never leaving yours as she slides two fingers inside you.
"Oh god, Wednesday," you moan as you feel her fingers stretching and effortlessly sliding inside of you. "More, please, I need more."
She grins and picks up the pace, her fingers moving in and out of you with expert precision. You feel the pleasure building inside you once again, the pressure building until you're on the brink of your orgasm.
“You fall apart so quickly. Where’s that attitude from this morning now? Has it gone”
You can only nod, the words caught in your throat as you feel the intensity of your pleasure growing. Wednesday leans in and licks your clit, adding another sensation that pushes you over the edge.
With a cry of pleasure, you come undone around her fingers, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Wednesday continues to fuck you through your climax, prolonging the pleasure until you're left panting and gasping for air.
"Good girl," she whispers as she pulls her fingers out of you. She brings them up to her mouth, licking them clean before walking away.
warnings: drinking, angst, kissing, all characters 18+
summary: Enid wakes up hungover and mortified, with Wednesday quietly taking care of her while pointedly avoiding a real talk about the previous night. Something happens before they’re rudely interrupted.
a/n: I couldn’t stop myself from writing another 🙃
Enid woke up to the feeling that her brain was trying to crawl out through her eyes.
She groaned and rolled onto her back. Big mistake. The ceiling lurched like a badly piloted airship. Her stomach lurched with it.
“Ugh,” she croaked, squeezing her eyes shut again.
There was a pause, then a familiar voice, calm and annoyingly clear, broke through the pounding in her head.
“Welcome back to the land of the barely living.”
Enid froze.
Oh. Oh no.
She cracked one eye open.
Wednesday was sitting on the edge of her bed, black boots planted neatly on the floor, posture straight as ever. In her hands: a glass of water and two white pills. Her braids were already perfect. Her uniform shirt was buttoned, tie in place. The picture of grim competence.
Enid, meanwhile, was 90% cotton candy hair and regret.
“Unfortunately,” Enid croaked.
It came out more pathetic than she meant. Wednesday’s mouth didn’t move, but something in her eyes did.
She picked up the glass and held it out. “Drink.”
Enid pushed herself upright slowly, every muscle protesting. The room tilted, then grudgingly settled. She accepted the glass with both hands, fingers clumsy, and gulped greedily. The water was cold and perfect and she could’ve cried from relief.
Wednesday dropped two pills into her palm without a word.
Enid swallowed them, then sagged back against the headboard. “I’m never drinking again,” she muttered.
Enid let her head tip to the side, resting against the headboard. From this angle she could see Wednesday more clearly. The dark circles under her eyes were slightly heavier than usual.
“You stayed up?” Enid asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Wednesday didn’t answer immediately. She reached past Enid, adjusting the pillow at her back, fingers brushing the fabric of Enid’s shirt, careful not to touch skin.
“You were attempting to argue with the wardrobe when you came in,” she said. “I considered it unwise to leave you unattended.”
A foggy flash surfaced in Enid’s mind: sitting on Wednesday’s bed, lamplight on pale skin, words tumbling out of her mouth faster than she could catch them.
You’re really pretty and I hate that.
She winced.
“Did I…” Her throat worked. She stared down at the blanket bunched in her lap. “Was I awful?”
“Yes,” Wednesday said, without hesitation. “But not in a new way.”
Despite everything, a faint laugh escaped her. It hurt. Everything hurt.
“Did I say anything… weird?”
Silence stretched.
Enid risked a glance up. Wednesday was watching her with that careful, dissecting look, like she was deciding how much of the autopsy to show.
“You said many things,” Wednesday said finally. “You were drunk.”
The way she said it, flat, definitive, put a tiny, clear wall around the night before.
Enid swallowed. The words she half-remembered crowded in her throat, too big, too sharp to push past the hangover. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Wednesday wasn’t bringing them up.
Enid let her eyes drift shut. The pills were starting to work, the edge of the headache dulling by degrees. She felt wrung out, like all the noise had been squeezed out of her, leaving only the quiet and the fact that Wednesday was still sitting there. Still close.
“You don’t have to… stay,” she said, half-mumbled. “I’m just gonna be gross and pathetic for a while.”
Wednesday didn’t move. “I’m aware,” she said. “Lie down.”
There was no room in her voice for argument, and honestly, Enid didn’t have the energy to try. She slid back down, rolling onto her side. A moment later, the blanket was pulled up over her shoulder, tucked in with brisk, efficient hands.
Enid exhaled slowly.
The mattress dipped and shifted again. Not leaving—sitting. Behind her, Wednesday’s weight settled where it had been, a steady presence at her back.
They didn’t speak.
The quiet between them felt… different. Not empty, not cold. Heavy, but not in a bad way. Full of things neither of them was ready to touch yet.
Enid stared at the pattern on the wall, following the faint cracks in the plaster.
Her mind drifted: Necrosis, shots, Yoko’s raised eyebrows, Bianca’s questions, Wednesday’s face tilting up to hers in the lamplight when she’d leaned too close. The startled look in those dark eyes when Enid had called her pretty.
Her face heated. Thank god she was facing away.
Behind her, there was a soft rustle. A hand hovered for a second near her shoulder, then rested lightly there. Just the weight of palm and fingers, no movement.
Enid’s heart thumped hard against her ribs.
She held very still.
Minutes blurred. The beating in her skull faded to a dull throb. Wednesday’s hand stayed where it was, warm and solid through the blanket, not gripping, not pulling away.
Eventually, Enid rolled onto her back again, slowly, so she didn’t dislodge the hand. Wednesday’s fingers slipped away, giving her space, but she didn’t stand.
Their eyes met.
Up close, Wednesday’s expression was almost neutral. Almost. There was something fragile around the edges, as if she was bracing for impact.
Enid’s gaze dropped, just for a second, to her mouth.
Her stomach swooped.
She swallowed. Her throat felt dry despite the water. “Can I…” She trailed off. The words refused to line up.
Wednesday’s eyes flicked down in the same instant, a tiny mirror of her own movement. Then back.
The air between them tightened.
Enid’s fingers curled in the blanket. Her voice came out small, hoarse. “You’re allowed to say no, you know.”
Wednesday regarded her for a beat, head tilting slightly, as if she were examining a new, interesting specimen.
“I am aware of my own agency, Enid,” she said quietly.
“Okay,” Enid breathed.
They watched each other.
Enid didn’t move closer. She just… stayed there, heart in her throat, letting the question sit between them without trying to turn it into words.
Wednesday shifted first. A barely-there lean, a slow closing of distance. Her hand came up to the bed again, fingers resting near Enid’s shoulder, not touching, not yet.
Enid’s breath hitched.
“This is… an experiment,” Wednesday murmured, almost to herself. “Purely for data collection.”
“Okay,” Enid whispered again. “Sure. Science.”
Wednesday leaned in.
The kiss was soft, almost shockingly so. No dramatic swoop, no crushing of mouths just the gentle press of lips, careful and brief, like she was testing a theory with the lightest possible touch.
Enid’s eyes fluttered shut. Every nerve in her body lit up.
She didn’t grab, didn’t cling. Her hand lifted a few centimetres off the blanket, hovering between them like it wasn’t sure if it was allowed to land. Wednesday’s fingers brushed her wrist in return, the slightest contact.
It lasted only a heartbeat or two, but time went strange around it. Stretching, then snapping back all at once when Wednesday pulled away.
Enid blinked slowly, eyes focusing again.
“…Wow,” she croaked.
Wednesday’s face was very close, very calm, except for the faintest flush high on her cheeks.
“Hm,” she replied, as if that were a suitable scientific conclusion.
Their gazes caught and held, an invisible line drawn from dark eyes to wide, dazed ones.
Enid’s lips tingled. She wanted to ask a thousand questions
What does this mean? Do you…are we…was that…
The words lodged in her chest, too big, too risky, and the moment was too fragile to pile them on top.
Another knock slammed into the door.
Both of them jerked.
“Enid?” a male voice called. “You awake?”
Bruno.
Of course.
Wednesday straightened in one fluid motion, the space between them reappearing like a curtain dropping. Enid’s heart scrambled to catch up.
Wednesday’s expression slid back into something smooth, impassive. “Stay,” she murmured. “You look sufficiently near death. It will support the story.”
“What st-” Enid began, but Wednesday was already moving.
She crossed the room and opened the door just enough to slip her head out, blocking the view inside with her body.
“Yes?” she said, voice flat.
“Oh. Uh. Hey, Wednesday.” Ben sounded caught off-guard. “I was just… checking on Enid? Yoko said she got wrecked last night. We’ve got that Poe group thing later and I didn’t know if—”
“She will not be attending,” Wednesday cut in. “Her body is currently rejecting every decision she made after 8 p.m.”
There was an awkward laugh. “Is she okay, though?”
“She is not dying,” Wednesday said. “It’s only a hangover.”
On the bed, Enid groaned on cue, pressing the heel of her hand into her eyes. The motion was only half for effect.
“Uh. Cool. Well, can you tell her I’ll send over my notes?” Ben asked. “And I’ve got the handouts from Weems’ office, so she doesn’t have to-”
“She won’t,” Wednesday said. “I’ll ensure she receives them.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” Ben hesitated. “Tell her… hope she feels better?”
Another awkward laugh. Then footsteps retreating down the hall.
Wednesday closed the door with a soft, decisive click.
Enid slowly pulled the cover down from covering her face.
“You told him my body is rejecting my decisions,” she mumbled.
“It is,” Wednesday said, walking back to the bed. “You are nothing if not medically accurate right now.”
She sat back down in her previous spot, as if there hadn’t just been a boy at the door and a kiss between them.
Silence dropped over the room again, heavier now.
“So,” Enid said eventually. “We’re just… not going to mention that, then?”
Wednesday rested her hands in her lap. “For the moment,” she said. “Given your current state, further discussion would be… inefficient.”
“Is that your way of saying ‘we’re hiding this’?” Enid asked, trying for lightness and almost managing it.
Wednesday’s eyes flicked to hers. “That is my way of saying we will address it when you are fully conscious and not nauseated by your own heartbeat.”
Enid huffed out a small breath. “Okay,” she said. “Yeah. That’s… fair.”
Wednesday studied her for a second longer, then reached for the abandoned glass on the nightstand and refilled it from the jug beside it. She passed it over without comment.
Their fingers brushed.
Enid’s pulse jumped.
She took the glass, drank, and let herself sink back into the pillow. The room was still dim, still quiet, but nothing about it felt quite the same as last night.
From the corner of her eye, she watched Wednesday.
Wednesday stared straight ahead for a moment, then, very deliberately, she reached out and tugged the blanket a fraction higher over Enid’s shoulder again.
“Sleep,” she said. “You look worse than usual.”
“Rude,” Enid muttered, but there was no heat in it.
She let her eyes close.
They weren’t talking about it. Not yet. To Bruno, to Yoko, to Bianca, they’d still just be Enid and Wednesday: best friends, walking the “most direct route” to class, pretending their knees touching was nothing.
But under the blanket, Enid’s fingers drifted up to her lips, ghosting over the place where Wednesday’s mouth had been.
Whatever they decided to call it later, whatever they chose to tell anyone else-
For now, it was theirs alone. Unspoken. Soft. Undeniable.
summary: Enid spends some time with the girls and comes home a little (a lot) drunk and can’t help herself from talking too much and confessing her feelings for Wednesday.
a/n: following on from my first fic, thank you for all the support!
By the time Friday finally dragged itself to an end, Enid felt like someone had put her in a blender and hit purée. Classes, homework, club stuff, fencing.
She flopped back onto her bed with a theatrical groan, arms spread wide. She looked over to her left, Wednesday’s side of the room was empty and tidy, every book stacked, every item exactly where it belonged, like it feared being moved.
Enid’s mind drifted back to earlier that week when the raven had returned home from her research with Agnes, and the unexpected sight of Wednesday in her damp, half-naked state. Enid had always gone out of the room out of respect for Wednesday’s privacy, but this time she didn’t have the chance.
No warning, no hesitation.
Just pale skin, rain-slicked and perfect under the moonlight, before she pulled on a fresh set of clothes with the same calm detachment as if she’d merely changed a page.
And then a couple of days later in fencing. One second she’d been focused, sparring with Wednesday, the next she was staring down at Wednesday’s unreadable face with a blade at her throat, her arms pinned, heart pounding way too fast for “friendly sparring.”
They’d laughed it off afterwards…well, Enid laughed, Wednesday’s mouth did that microscopic twitch thing but the way her stomach flipped had stayed with her.
And she didn’t know why… why now?
They’d been best friends for months. The kind of best friends who sat up late watching horror movies (Wednesday’s choice) and rom-coms (Enid’s counter-attack). The kind who walked to class together every day, because it’s “the most direct route,” (according to Wednesday). The kind who “studied” together. The kind who pretended not to notice when their knees stayed touching just a little bit too long.
She’d seen Wednesday at her worst: brooding over case files, muttering in Spanish with her sharp tongue, even sleeping with a gothic statue with one pale arm dangling off the bed. But this… this was different.
Her phone buzzed violently beside her.
Yoko: HELLO SINCLAIR, ARE YOU COMING OUT OR WHAT?
Enid jolted upright. 5:23 p.m.
“Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered, grabbing her phone.
Enid: Hello! Sorry… yeah I’m coming, give me half an hour to get ready and I’ll meet you outside x
She launched herself at the closet, digging through hangers, flinging rejects to the floor in a colourful avalanche.
Of course that was the exact moment the door opened.
Wednesday stepped in, closing it with her usual quiet precision. Her dark eyes swept over the room, landing on the pile of clothes at Enid’s feet.
“If the goal is to bury yourself alive,” Wednesday said, deadpan, “you’re halfway there.”
Enid turned, one arm shoved halfway through a sleeve. “It’s called outfit panic, Willa. Totally normal, completely necessary, and mildly traumatic.”
“Your definition of normal continues to perplex me.” Wednesday set her book down on her nightstand. “Where are you going that requires this level of panic?”
“A new club in Jericho. Necrosis.” Enid shoved another top aside. “Bianca and Yoko are dragging me out. I’m being social.“
Enid turned and flashed her a grin. “You could come. Work on your people skills.”
Wednesday gave her a flat look. “I’d rather poke my eyes out with a blunt stick.”
“That’s practically a yes for you,” Enid chirped.
Wednesday’s mouth twitched. “Have you considered wearing what you wore last weekend? You insisted you ‘peaked’ in that outfit. It seems wasteful to abandon your peak so quickly.”
“I am not re-wearing an outfit,” Enid huffed. “I have a reputation.”
“You certainly do,” Wednesday murmured, eyes flicking over the mess. “Walking chaos.”
Enid jabbed a finger toward her. “Says the girl whose side of the room looks like the lobby of a funeral parlor”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Yeah, you do that” Enid muttered, but she was smiling.
After ten more agonising minutes of indecision, she finally settled on a white oversized shirt that came to just above her knees and a sleeveless fluffy light-blue V-neck sweater. It matched the pastel ends of her hair perfectly. And a plaid skirt.
She curled her hair, added glitter to her eyes, gloss to her lips. Through the mirror she could see Wednesday hunched over her desk, scribbling something furiously in a notebook. Enid couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate the view - Wednesday still in her fencing trousers and a simple fitted tank top, her muscles flexing slightly as she wrote.
Probably mapping out a murder. Or an essay. With Wednesday, the line was thin.
Enid checked her phone. 6:04 p.m. “Okay, I’m heading out.” She grabbed her purse and paused at the door. “You sure you don’t wanna come? I’ll protect you from the girls.”
“I am perfectly capable of defending myself against a group of teenage girls,” Wednesday replied. “Text me when you arrive so I can estimate the time of your liver’s demise.”
Enid rolled her eyes fondly. “Yes boss.“ Enid saluted on her way out, before calling back ”Don’t wait up, okay?”
Wednesday looked up just long enough to meet her eyes. “I’ll keep my phone on.”
Enid’s heart did that stupid swoop again. “’Kay. See you later.”
⸻
Necrosis was already packed when Enid, Yoko, and Bianca pushed through the doors. The bass vibrated up through the floor, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and bad decisions.
They grabbed drinks, something colourful and definitely dangerous, and headed for the dance floor. For a while, Enid let it all go: the schoolwork, the complicated friendship feelings, the way Wednesday’s gaze sometimes lingered a fraction too long.
Out here, there was just music, lights, and her friends yelling lyrics in her ear. She danced for what seemed like hours.
Eventually, breathless and sweaty, the three of them collapsed into a booth tucked away at the back.
“So,” Yoko said, stretching her legs out. “How’s the love life, Sinclair? Still tangled up with that wolf boy of yours?”
Enid swirled her drink. “Bruno? Yeah, we’re… fine.”
Bianca gave her a look. “You sound thrilled.”
“He is nice,” Enid said quickly. “He’s sweet. He shows up. He’s just”
“Punching above his weight?” Yoko offered.
“Not enough to keep your attention?” Bianca added.
Enid tried to laugh it off and took a big gulp of her drink instead. “It just… feels like something’s missing.”
She liked Bruno. She really did. But when she compared the flutter in her stomach when he kissed her to the chaos that erupted when Wednesday so much as brushed her hand…yeah. That was hard to ignore.
Bianca slid a shot toward her. “Don’t overthink it. We’re here to have fun.”
“I have an idea,” Yoko cut in, eyes gleaming. “Drinking game.”
“Oh no,” Enid said, but lifted the shot anyway.
“Rules,” Yoko declared. “You get asked a question. You either answer it honestly… or you take a shot.”
She pointed at herself. “I’ll go first.”
Bianca didn’t hesitate. “When was the last time you talked to your ex?”
Yoko froze. “Oh. Uh. Yesterday?”
Enid nearly spat her drink across the table. “YESTERDAY? Yoko! I thought you were done with Danika forever!”
“There wasn’t a lot of talking involved,” Yoko mumbled.
Bianca smacked her arm. “Unbelievable. You love chaos.”
“I never said I didn’t.” Yoko grinned. “Anyway. Enid’s turn.”
Bianca didn’t give her time to brace. “Do you think your roommate is hot?”
Enid choked so hard she actually coughed cocktail back into her glass.
Bianca and Yoko shared a very satisfied look.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bianca said calmly.
Enid’s face burned. “I—I mean, obviously I have eyes and Wednesday is… objectively attractive in a broody, Victorian ghost kind of way. But she’s my best friend. I don’t, like, think of her like that.”
Lies. All lies.
Her brain immediately replayed Wednesday coming back from fencing, hair mussed, shirt clinging to her, cheeks faintly flushed. Or stepping out of the shower in a towel, dark hair dripping down pale shoulders, hands wringing water from the ends. Or leaning over Enid’s desk to read something, the scent of her shampoo and old books filling Enid’s head.
“Enid,” Yoko said slowly, “are you picturing your best friend naked right now?”
“NO!” Enid yelped so loudly the table behind them looked over.
“You’re literally staring into space like you’ve seen God,” Bianca added.
Enid scrambled for her shot glass and downed it, grimacing as it burned. “You’re both banned from talking,” she muttered.
“Come on,” Yoko said. “Why not break up with Bruno and go after the terrifyingly hot best friend you conveniently share a room with?”
“Because,” Enid said firmly, “we’re best friends. And I am not ruining the best thing in my life because I can’t control my dumb feelings. Also, she’d probably completely reject me.”
“Wednesday hates everyone,” Yoko said. “But she tolerates you. Enthusiastically… for her.”
“She pretends to be annoyed,” Bianca added. “But I’ve seen her waiting for you after class. And the way she watches you when you’re not looking? Girl...”
Enid rolled her eyes, but her chest felt warm and tight. “She watches me like I’m a walking migraine.”
“Or like she wants to drag you into a dark corner,” Yoko said. “For definitely unsavoury reasons.”
“You need help,” Enid told her. “Like, professional help.”
Yoko shrugged and slid another shot toward Bianca. “Your turn. Would you ever get back with Xavier?”
Bianca stared at the shot, then knocked it back without a word.
They kept playing. The drinks piled up. The questions got messier, the answers blurrier. By the time they finally spilled out of the club and said their goodnights, Enid’s head was spinning and her legs felt like marshmallows.
⸻
Enid fumbled with the dorm doorknob twice before it finally turned. The room was mostly dark, lit only by the faint glow of fairy lights and Wednesday’s bedside lamp.
Wednesday was sitting up in bed, book in hand, clearly awake.
Enid smiled lopsidedly. “You did wait up,” she said, words soft and slurred.
“I was verifying your continued existence,” Wednesday replied. “Given your penchant for chaos and poor decision-making.”
Enid stumbled in, misjudged the distance to her own bed, and ended up swaying toward Wednesday instead.
“H-hey,” she said, catching herself on Wednesday’s mattress. “You okay?”
Wednesday blinked. “You are asking me if I’m okay while you are listing to one side like a sinking ship?”
“I just care,” Enid said, trying to straighten and failing. She sat on the edge of Wednesday’s bed instead. “You’re my best friend. ’Course I care.”
The words came out thick, but honest.
Wednesday set her book aside slowly. “Enid, how many drinks have you had?”
“Enough to answer questions I shouldn’t,” Enid said. “Or maybe not enough. Dunno. Math is hard.”
She looked at Wednesday, really looked at her soft lamplight on pale skin, dark hair loose around her shoulders, eyes softer than the rest of the world ever got to see.
“I need to talk to you,” Enid blurted.
Wednesday hesitated. Under normal circumstances, she’d deflect. But this was Enid. And Enid’s eyes were wide and shiny and a little lost.
“Very well,” Wednesday said quietly, switching on the lamp fully. “What’s wrong?”
Enid took a breath, then another, words tripping over themselves as the alcohol loosened her tongue.
“I feel like there’s this… thing between us,” she said. “Like, tension. And I don’t know what to do with it. And sometimes you’re all” she flapped her hands vaguely “cold and snarky, and then other times you’re… you.”
Wednesday frowned. “I am always me.”
She let out an ungraceful little laugh, then hiccuped.
“I’m mad at you,” she announced, as if it had just occurred to her.
“For being so… you,” Enid said, gesturing at her again. “You’re so annoying and stubborn and emotionally constipated and you never say what you’re feeling and you keep your face all” she squeezed her face into a stern scowl “like that. And you’re still my favourite person.”
Something flickered in Wednesday’s eyes.
“A-and,” Enid stumbled, voice dropping slightly, “you’re reeaally, really pretty and I hate that too.”
Wednesday stilled. “Enid…”
“No, listen.” Enid leaned in, earnest and wobbly. “You’re my best friend. And you’re also… kind of… ridiculously attractive, and it’s very inconvenient. For me. Personally.”
“Like, I’ll be doing something totally normal and then you walk in all sweaty from fencing and I’m just…arghhh” She made a helpless little noise. “It’s annoying. Enid took a few unsteady steps towards her bed, swaying on her feet. “You’re annoying. Stop being so… you.”
Wednesday opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
She took off her sweater and collapsed onto the mattress, feeling the room spin around her.
It took Enid a few attempts but she managed to turn onto her side and lean on her hand facing Wednesday.
"Wednesday Addams, are you blushing?" she said eyes half open, now slurring her words even more.
"I am not blushing," Wednesday said, her voice sharp. "And you need to go to sleep now, Enid."
Enid sighed, feeling the room spin around her.
"Fine, fine. But not because you told me to, because I am very sleepy.”
summary: wednesday has a long day, gets caught in the rain and comes back to find enid and bruno in her dorm. She’s not happy to say the least. Enid discovers her attraction to her room mate.
a/n: this is my first time writing, i hope that you like it! (let me know if you want more)
As Wednesday trudged down the moonlit hallway of Ophelia Hall, the only thing she desired was the solitude of her room and the luxury of peeling off her mud-soaked clothes before collapsing into unconsciousness.
The night had been long, tedious, and filthy, a trifecta of misery she normally tolerated with pride. But even she had limits. However, as she approached her dorm room, she was dismayed to hear multiple voices inside, including that of Bruno.
Her jaw tightened.
How profoundly irritating.
Even exhaustion couldn’t smother the spark of murderous annoyance that flickered to life in her chest.
As she pushed open the door, Wednesday was met with an appalling display of color and noise. Enid and Bruno sprawled across a chaos of pastel sheets, laughing and joking. She rolled her eyes, slowly and deliberately, first at Enid, for committing the cardinal sin of bringing Bruno into their shared space… and then at Bruno himself, for the unforgivable crime of existing within her line of sight.
Determined to expel the intruders, Wednesday stepped further into the room. Bruno spoke up, interrupting her.
“Hey, Wednesday,” he said, attempting casual conversation. “I’m guessing it’s still raining outside?”
Water dripped from Wednesday’s sleeve onto the floor in a slow, rhythmic patter, like a leaky faucet in an abandoned asylum.
She stared at him flatly. “Your observational skills are astounding.”
Enid, ever desperate to rescue dying conversations, jumped in with forced brightness.
“What did you get up to with Agnes?”
She didn’t bother looking at either of them as she answered.
“Research,” she said, unclasping her soggy collar with clinical precision. “Agnes and I were cataloguing poisonous insects.”
“Sounds fascinating,” Bruno scoffed, the sarcasm as subtle as a brick.
“Yes,” Wednesday replied calmly. “I uncovered several specimens. Some were even less evolved than you.”
Bruno barked out a laugh. “Figures, you and your… specimens. You really are a weirdo.”
Enid smacked his arm. “Bruno! Seriously, be nice.”
Wednesday didn’t flinch.
She walked past the pair, water trailing behind her in small, resentful droplets. Her soaked backpack hit the desk with a dull, muddy thud. She emptied it deliberately, setting down her supplies.
After a day that felt several lifetimes too long, the sensation of damp fabric clinging to her skin had become unbearable; a slow, cold suffocation she refused to tolerate a moment longer.
Without hesitation, she opened her wardrobe and began to undress, paying no mind to the fact that Enid and Bruno were still present in the room.
She slipped off her overcoat first and hung it neatly on the dark wooden rack beside her dresser, water dripping from the hem and pattering onto the floor like a steady, morose heartbeat.
Next, she swiftly lifted her arms to remove the black and white striped sweater, leaving only a soaked black vest clinging to her skin, revealing the outline of her back muscles as she stretched her arms up.
Meanwhile, Bruno had turned away from her, now facing Enid as he launched into a tedious, rambling story, completely unaware of what the dark-haired girl was doing behind him.
Enid, however, couldn't help but keep her eyes fixed on the sight before her, occasionally nodding and making brief eye contact with the boy to feign interest in his story.
Enid's eyes were fixated on the girl in front of her, her gaze tracing every movement as she peeled off her vest to reveal a black laced bra.
In the moonlight, shadows slid over the girl’s taut back, picking out each line of muscle in a way Enid couldn’t help but admire. She caught herself wondering how she had never noticed just how impressive the girl’s physique was before.
Wednesday met Enid’s stare in the mirror on the door, the corner of her mouth lifting into a faint smirk. She shifted, turning to check her back in the reflection while she brushed a streak of dust and mud from her shoulder. Enid’s eyes widened as a set of abs came into view, the muscles tightening as the smaller girl strained to reach.
She couldn't help but lick her lips unconsciously.
Wednesday then took a few steps toward her desk and started searching through her bag for something. Enid's gaze followed her, transfixed on the way the muscles in her arms and shoulders contracted with each movement as she reached deep inside. Her mind started to wander to some quite unsavory thoughts.
“So what do you think?” Bruno’s question pulling her out of her daze.
Enid had only caught a few sentences of the one-sided conversation, but it was enough for her to gather that Bruno was complaining about someone in the pack.
"Well, I completely agree with you," she offered, hoping to show her support.
"Thank you! I knew I was right when he-" Bruno’s relief was evident as he continued to vent. Enid's focus shifted past him as Wednesday began to unbutton her pants, causing her to lose interest in the conversation again.
Wednesday looked into the mirror glancing in Enid’s direction now taking her time removing her black corduroys, enjoying the undivided attention she was getting from the blonde.
First she popped the button and slowly pulled down the zip, removing her legs one at a time to reveal smooth pale skin and Enid was completely entranced in every movement that Wednesday made.
“Enid, what the hell! are you even listening?”
Bruno, must have asked her a question and she missed it because somehow now he was fully aware that Enid wasn’t listening to a word he was saying.
He followed Enid’s gaze turning to look over his shoulder. Wednesday didn’t bother to acknowledge him, too focused on removing her soaked socks.
His eyes widened as he realised exactly what was happening, turning back to Enid and waving his hand.
All of a sudden Enid bounced back from her trance to see both Wednesday and antonio were looking directly at her.
“Hello?” Is all she could get out, dazed, looking back at the now very annoyed wolf in front of her.
“I think it’s about time we left now Enid, our friends will be waiting.” Bruno said through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, sure… wait, it’s only 7. We were suppose to meet at-“
Bruno instantly cut her off gesturing towards the door “They’re waiting Enid!”
“Okay, okay…” Enid replied grabbing her things.
Looking over to Wednesday who was now stood in an all black robe and her wash bag in hand, she thought for a moment.
Bruno cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Oh..uhmm..Well, we should probably go. Don't want to disturb you any longer."
Bruno made his way towards the door, Enid trailing behind him. Wednesday didn't even bother to acknowledge their departure.
