#fem-Adam

[cakerybakery]

@sir-tater-of-the-tot

Doll sinner Adam

Warnings for fem-Adam and mpreg

"Don't do that." Adam slapped Lucifer's poking hand away.

"You can feel it? This just so fascinating. I know hell has a wicked sense of humour. Your form taking on symbolic features with regards to how you lived your life or died, but this is a little heavy handed." Lucifer ignored Adam's annoyed grunt and palpated Adam's stomach again. "I mean. It's obviously because you were heaven's toy. Little more than a doll they could do with as they pleased. But still. Amazing."

He opened the hatch on Adam's stomach and Adam squirmed. "It feels funny when you do that."

"Sorry. Just. A hatch!" Lucifer poked around the hollow cavity. Sticking his head inside and felting around for anything at all. "Can you feel this?"

"Sort of." Adam wiggled as Lucifer examined him.

Touching the inside of Adam's chest he could feel ribs, and where Adam's chubby pecs formed on the outside, the inside was hallow.

"What happens when you eat?" The top had no hole, yet Adam ate. He felt hunger.

Adam was interesting feeling. Fleshy, but also, hard? Maybe a little like silicone? Yielding, but he seemed like he would be tough to pierce or cut. Warm still.

"I try not to think about it." Adam muttered, shifting to cover his bare lap more with the blanket.

"Do you go to the bathroom?" He asked, feeling the bottom of the cavity.

Adam squirmed but muttered, "yes."

"Okay. That's enough of the inside." Lucifer closed Adam's stomach up. "I'll examine the rest of you now."

His doctor's bag was a tad out of date. Bel had taken over the health and wellness of hellborn and sinners alike centuries ago so he could focus more on Charlie, but he still attended conferences on the latest innovations from the realm of man and he taught her everything he learned over the eons before she grew into a full fledged sin of her own. Plus, he was the only one Adam was willing to let touch him. So despite the age of his bag, it was full of modern goodies.

He checked Adam eyes, ran a few quick eye exams, all seemed normal for a mortal man. Ears looked fine. Nose and throat, seemed normal and anatomically correct.

Besides the skin being slightly off, Adam seemed normal. His heart beat. He could breathe. Reflexes were great. He was a bit chubby, but otherwise fit.

Then came the Adam had request wait for last.

Nervously, he let Lucifer remove the blanket.

"Huh." Lucifer was half expecting a Ken situation. Smooth. But, Adam's anatomical features sure didn't end at the waist. "You said you could go to the bathroom, you have been able to urinate and have had bowel movements regularly?"

Adam was red faced, but nodded.

That was good. "Have you been able to achieve an erection or ejaculation?"

"Dude."

"I'm trying to establish a baseline, Adam." Lucifer tutted. "If you wake up one day with your dick off cause it turns out it's detachable, it might be handy to know what your cock can do before so we know what it should be able to do after. If you're too embarrassed to tell me, and I put your dick back on wrong, then you might piss out your balls or never cum again and you'll be too embarrassed to tell me then. I don't fucking know. I've never deal with this before!"

Adam groaned in defeat. "Fine. Yes. To all three."

"Three?"

"I can get hard, cum, and it comes off. It just pops off. My arms and legs do the same."

"Fascinating." Lucifer took a better look at Adam's arm, then leg, then asked Adam to lay back. "Do you mind if I...?"

Adam covered his face, but gestured for Lucifer to help himself.

Lucifer gripped Adam's soft cock, felt the balls, and confirming with Adam first he was doing it correctly, popped it off as easily as one would a doll's head.

He couldn't help but stare. Instead of being smooth, or some form of joint, there was a set of female genitalia.

This just kept getting more and more interesting.

"Did you know...?"

"... Yeah."

Lucifer nodded and jotted it down in his file for Adam. "Have you been able to achieve orgasm through your..." what was the polite way saying this?

Adam beat him to it. "I haven't touch it! ... Much. It feels weird."

"Still," Lucifer tried to be professional, despite the awkwardness in the air. "I would recommend, uhhh, testing for sensitivity, or pain, see if you are able to perform routine functions like urination to see if your urethra moved with the, uhh, removal, and try to orgasm. Or at least see what you can feel so we know if something is wrong."

He made a mental note to send Adam for ultrasounds and x-rays. Adam seemed to have organs, Lucifer could hear Adam's heart beating and his lungs breathing. There was a pulse and Adam cheeks could flush with embarrassment. Bloodwork would also be in order.

Picking up Adam's cock and balls, Adam jerked at the surprise sensation.

Curious, Lucifer asked, "can you feel it when a part of you is detached?" Lucifer moved his hand around the flaccid shaft a little and felt it stiffen up a bit as Adam moaned. "Fascinating!"

He looked from the half hard cock to Adam pussy, "what do you think would happen if you fucked your own dick?"

The cock twitched and the red of Adam's face spread down to his ears and neck. He stuttered, not really saying anything, but even though Lucifer wasn't stroking the dick in his hand it hardened anyway.

"Did you want to try it?" Lucifer would be interested in watching that. Would Adam be able to feel himself being fucked and doing the fucking? Or just one sensation?

Adam's brain seemed to implode on itself, he couldn't answer.

"You can try at home. See what happens. Try to record to the best of your knowledge. You're capable of getting an erection so you have blood flow, somehow."

That kickstarted Adam's brain and he sputtered out that he wasn't going to do that at home!

Lucifer nodded and considered Adam's discomfort. "If you would rather, I can do it here. Record the results."

Adam bit his lip, his legs were already spread and his pussy wet. His eye flickered to his hard cock in Lucifer's hand and then he nodded.

"Alright then. I'll start by seeing what sort of prep you might need." He put the cock and balls down by Adam's head and changed out his gloves.

He started by testing Adam's clitoris. Gently touching and having his pen joint down the reactions he observed.

Adam breath hitching, how his legs shook, the juices slicking his pussy.

"Too much!" Adam gripped the sheet of the bed Lucifer was using as a makeshift examination table and dug his feet in the push himself away from Lucifer's fingers.

His real one was in his old practice, or maybe he donated it? He hadn't actually used it since he let Bel take over, only practicing his skills on his family when they were unwell or hurt, and not needing the table for them, so he was unclear where it ended up.

Lucifer let go and moved on to exam the labia. Touching the labia majora and then the labia minora. Stroking them and noting how Adam squirmed a little but calmed down.

So there was feeling.

A pleasurable feeling too, if Adam's hooded eyes were an indication. The pen jotted that observation down.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he spread Adam's wet labia and noted that he appeared to be anatomically correct there as well.

Dipping his fingers in, Lucifer notes how Adam tried to bury them deeper inside of himself.

Adam was face to head with his dick, "Lucifer," he moaned out. "I need my dick touched. Oh, fuck me. I'm so hard it hurts."

Precum was starting to seep out of the tip.

His hands were a little busy, but he told Adam to stroke himself.

Fondling his own balls, Adam started to get himself off.

Lucifer had the pen note how Adam gripped his prick and the moans he made while stroking it.

"Do you mind if I stimulate you orally?" Lucifer asked and Adam quickly responded.

"Oh fuck, yes!"

He noted that technically Adam had told him he minded, but Adam spread his legs a little more and Lucifer figured Adam exclamation was an invitation poorly worded.

Lapping at Adam, the man groaned, humping Lucifer's tongue and face to take him deeper.

Diving his tongue in further, Lucifer found himself enjoying how deeply Adam moaned.

"Oh fuck it!" Adam swore and took in as much of his own cock into his mouth that he could. Moaning around the sensation and Lucifer felt Adam's pussy cum.

He pulled out and adjusted himself.

Seeing Adam trying to swallow as much of his own cock that he could, was making him hard. Lucifer was trying to be professional, but he was pretty sure that line was crossed already.

"Are you ready?" Lucifer really wanted to see Adam taking his own cock.

Glove covered fingers, still wet, Lucifer trailed them down a bit to Adam's anus. What would Adam look like double stuffed?

He could give himself two cocks. Fill both holes and watch Adam being forced by the thrusting to swallow his own prick. Make him deep throat himself. Fill every fun hole like a personal gang bang. Make Adam swallow his own cum as Lucifer plugged up Adam's ass and pussy with jizz.

Adam moaned, slowly pulling his own prick from between his plump lips and handing the dick over.

Lucifer popped Adam's cherry with his own cock slowly.

"OH GOD!" Adam cried out as the last of his large dick filled him.

Hand on Adam's spread leg to keep his balance, Lucifer pulled out and pushed the dick back in him.

Curious, Lucifer opened the hatch on Adam's stomach and shifted his vision through the spectrum of light. Modern technology was much more convent than doing it manually, due to the issue of skin, but eventually he was able to see an overlay of Adam's organs with the empty hatch. Not as good as an x-ray or ultrasound, but it was there. The hatch wasn't low enough for him to see Adam's own prick buried deeply into Adam's pussy. What a shame. He closed the hatch again.

Using Adam's leaking juices, Lucifer rubbed at the rim of Adam's ass.

"Want to see how much you can handle?" He asked and Adam squirmed, spreading himself wider.

His finger easily slipped in, and Adam panted.

Adam arched as his pussy came again.

"Grope your tits." Lucifer requested as he pushed a second slick finger into Adam's ass with one hand and shoved Adam's large prick into Adam's pussy with the other hand.

He worked Adam's ass open and only spared a vague thought about hoping the pen was still recording so he could review it later.

When Adam looked like he could take him, Lucifer spared a moment to summon some lube from his bag and magick his pants open and dick out.

Lucifer generously coated his dick, pushed Adam's cock all the way inside of Adam to keep it out of the way, and nudged himself into Adam's ass.

Adam was so tight and hot. He was sure he could feel Adam's cock through the walls of Adam's ass.

He pulled off his glove and tossed it in the garbage. Lucifer watched for any sort of indication of pain as he buried himself into Adam. He was pleased to see Adam only moaned, his face still flushed, his mouth smiling and panting, and his pretty golden eyes half closed in pleasure.

Doing his best, Lucifer fucked himself and Adam's prick into Adam. It was awkward though so he pulled Adam's cock out and Adam whimpered at the loss.

"It's okay. I have an idea." Lucifer passed Adam back his cock. "Keep your mouth busy and turn over onto your knees, sweetheart."

They got Adam into position and he went back to moaning around his own prick, sloppily blowing himself and trying to take in as much as he could.

Giving himself a second prick, Lucifer bottomed out in Adam's ass and pussy.

Adam moaned loudly and Lucifer felt Adam cum around him.

Now that Adam was wet and loose, Lucifer gripped Adam by his wide hips and pounded into him fast and hard. Adam could barely make any noise as he found himself deep-throating himself. Every time Lucifer's nuts slapped into Adam clit, filling Adam's bottom half full of cock, his throat was forced to accommodate his own girthy dick. It was a beauty sight.

He fucked Adam harder and faster until, sputtering, Adam pulled his spent cock out of his mouth.

"No more," Adam begged and moaned.

"Okay. Almost there." Lucifer took only a few more strokes before cumming himself.

Pulling out, Lucifer spread apart Adam's ass cheeks and thighs so he could see his cum bubble out of Adam's perfect pussy and tight ass.

"I think," Lucifer huffed out of breath, "that about concludes your physical. I'll put in a requisition for some bloodwork, and some other tests."

Adam groaned as his body twitched. Lucifer grinned as a little spurt of cum oozed out of Adam's cock onto Adam's face.

For the next couple months, Adam avoided him. Lucifer was surprised to open his email one day with results from the bloodwork and ultrasound waiting for him. It looked like Adam finally got around to having it done.

Lucifer poured himself a new cup of coffee and clicked open the first email.

He scrolled through the bloodwork as he sipped his drink. It all seemed normal. Every indication that Adam had working organs in his doll body.

Next he look at the ultrasound pictures. His heart looked fine. Methodically, Lucifer clicked on each attached file.

Liver, good.

Kidneys, good.

Bladder, good.

Uterus...

Lucifer choked on his drink.

A uterus! Amazing!

Lucifer clicked open the folder excitedly.

His excitement died as he saw it.

The tiny blob.

Lucifer quickly looked it over. He'd only taken seminars on this! He was a general practitioner! Sure he kept up his license but he wasn't an expert!

Still, it was the right size.

He summoned his medical bookcase and frantically searched through research papers he'd read until he found the one detailing the embryonic stages. There was no denying it. The timing was right.

Lucifer would ask Bel for a second opinion, but he was certain.

He'd knocked Adam up.

[euaphora]

Do you have twt links of the girl ridding the guy and the guy being a moaning mess ???

most are just guided masturbation, hope you enjoy regardless!

one | two | three | four|five| six |seven |eight | nine| ten |eleven| twelve | thirteen |fourteen |fifteen

[washeduphazbin]

Hi, I would like to ask for a smut from Adam x fem Reader, his dear wife is going to pay him a visit at his work and in the end they almost get paid for lute

New Eve (Adam x Fem! Wife! Reader)

-SMUT AHEAD MINORS DNI-

Other warnings: Adam Being Adam

I hope I wrote this ask and understood it correctly! Adam is my guilty pleasure. I love men who are dumb as rocks and who are going to be absolutely leashed by even stronger women.

REQUESTS OPEN

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

There's a saying that all good things come in threes, Lilith, Eve, and you. Adam's final wife, who physically couldn't be swayed by Lucifer because Adam had met you in Heaven. When you passed through the pearly gates, you were greeted by none other than the first human himself. You were in awe for about two seconds until you quickly gathered the first man was a complete and utter dickhead. He seemed to falter when you walked past him to greet an angel named Lute, Adam's second in command. She tensed a little as you introduced yourself, ignoring Adam's protests that dubbed you a Queen Mega Bitch.

All this to say, it took about three months before Lute caught Adam sticking his tongue down your throat with you latched onto him like a koala. You made a distressed sound at being caught while listening to Adam laugh above you. You distinctly heard him call your mouth as good as a vagina while pressing a kiss to your hairline. "Adam!" You hissed, pulling on the horns of his mask as he let out a defiant sound, "Inappropriate."

"Ugh yeah, that's kind of my thing, sugar tits."

"You need to not make it your thing, or this thing doesn't happen." You drew your line in the metaphorical sand before marching out of the room, faintly hearing Lute argue about Adam's behavior behind you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Two years later, you were Adam's new 'Eve' in heaven with two golden rings to prove the love that formed between the two of you...somehow. Did the both of you fight constantly? Yes. Did you want to wring his neck every time he opened the gaping hole he called a mouth? Also Yes. But did you love him...unfortunately. Even though he had a laundry list of bad habits, a vulgar mouth, and gross hobbies, he had his moments. He was protective, fiercely so, and despite his fuck boy personality, he only had his sights set on you. Lute often asked you what you saw in Adam, and you'd reluctantly sigh and give a tired grin, "He makes me laugh. Plus, with proper motivation, he's putty in my hand." Lute made a sound of understanding, nodding her head,

"Ah, yes. Use your feminine wiles to control those weaker than you, even if they may be physically stronger. We must use what we are given as women. Well, you must. I'm very strong without using that to my advantage."

"Yes, exactly," You snickered as Lute stopped outside Adam's office. "Which is exactly why Sera put me in charge of convincing Adam to meet with The Morningstar's daughter." You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "I'll see you back here later, then?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lute bowed, "I wish you luck...you'll need it. He's in one of his moods." before taking off into the sky and down the hall. You reached up with a stretch of your arms, fluffing up your wings to look extra pretty before knocking on Adam's door,

"Adam." You hummed, knocking on the grand marble door once before opening it. You leaned against the entranceway, wings brushing against the floor, as his head shot up.

"Sugartits!"

"Not my name!" You dodged Adam's hug with a flurry of your wings; he grinned, shoving the door closed with his hip. "Adam," you said in warning as he used his angelic magic to fly towards you and trap you within his arms.

"and what would you prefer I call you? My Bitch? Wifey?" He mused, peppering sloppy kisses against your cheek and down your neck. "We could go with Queen or Goddess, preferably." You shot back, dragging Adam down to sit in his chair; you hummed gently, removing his mask from his face. He leaned back, kicking his legs up on the desk as you slid down into his chest, straddling his hips. You hummed, running your fingers through his brown hair, and he melted into your touch, "My name works, too."

"I guess we can settle on Queen. Does that make me your King?" Adam preened as you scratched under his chin,

"Without a doubt...but we must talk about the Young Morningstar."

"Who?" He made a faux confused face which you raised an eyebrow back at in response, "Ugh, Lucifer's cunt daughter. What about her?"

"She's been begging for a meeting. I suggest you meet with her." Your lips began to trail down his neck, nipping at his skin as his body flushed.

"But that's so much work, sugar." He groaned, running his clawed hands through your hair, "Can't I just say fuck off back to hell we're gonna exterminate all of you regardless."

"Sera wants you to at least meet with her one time; she's giving you a lot of trust to handle this on your own."

"And if I do what you ask, what'll you give me?" He mused, eyes sparkling. You huffed, hitting him with the back of your wing, and he laughed, "Come on, you gotta sweeten the deal for me, mama."

"You're such a bastard." You huffed, moving to pull your hair out of your face. He moved his legs to the ground, and you could slide between his knees. "Robe off unless you want dirty," you commanded as Adam fumbled out of it quickly.

"I love you~" He leaned back with a sly grin, hand reaching up to move your head closer to his lip. Your fingers spread across his thighs, and you huffed softly, looking up at him.

"I love you more. If I do this for you, you promise to meet with young Lady Morningstar?"

"You can't just fuck me because you love me?"

"Bite me." You sneered, but there wasn't any malice in your voice as he stood up, picking you up off the ground and pressing your back against his desk.

"Oh, it would be my pleasure. I can't say your robes will survive, though I might need to get you some new ones." Adam popped the buttons on your robe, allowing your body to be laid bare for his eyes. He watched your breathing hitch as his long claw trailed down your neck to your chest. "Fuck I love these puppies, you know that?" Adam grinned, grabbing fistfuls of your breasts, squeezing and kneading to his heart's content. Your husband was like an oversized golden retriever. When he sees something he likes, he obsesses over it like a man deranged. His favorite playthings of yours were your tits and ass. "Any meetings?"

"None. I'm yours for the rest of the day. You can mark me how you'd like; I'm yours, my husband. Well, until you meet with the Princess."

"Fuckkkkk yeah, baby, come 'ere." Adam dove between your breasts, and he felt you suck in air through your teeth. He began to bite and suck on the supple flesh of your chest; you keened, arching into his mouth, hands tangling in his brown hair. You could tell from the way his teeth would graze against your nipples and your flesh he was doing everything in his power to leave marks on the skin.

"Adam...ngh." You panted, feeling his hand move down from your breast to slide down your stomach and between your legs. "Shit," You squeaked, feeling him tease your clit with his thumb and forefinger with a dopey grin on his face.

"There's my favorite girl," He flicked your nub skillfully; for being a massive asshole, this prick sure knew where to find your clit. One finger slid between your folds, and you tossed your head against the cold marble desk. "Damn, only one finger has you acting up? I must not be treating you good enough," He purred as another finger entered you, stretching you out to be big enough for, 'the first ever man god created.' Adam watched with delight as your wings spread out and trembled, glowing with a soft golden glow. "That's it, you're being such a good girl for me. Are you ready?"

"Yes." You panted, "Adam, please."

"God, you beg so nicely, you little slut," His hand reached up to grip your throat, causing you to let out a desperate whine, hips bucking into his fingers. "Beg Harder," He demanded, moving your hand to palm him through his trousers, stiff and aching. "Look at how hard you make me. How desperate. I need you to worship your god."

"Yes, sir." You purred, "You're my God, Adam. I need you, I'd worship for your love, your touch, your dick." You dragged your hand up your chest, playing with the swell of your own breast, "Don't you want to make me happy, baby?"

"More than anything." Adam's eyes lit up in elation, "Stay with me. Don't go to Lucifer. You're mine." He snarled, hands around your throat, "Say it."

"I'm with you. Only you. Forever Adam." His entire body seemed to relax when you said that, pressing gentle kisses to your cheek and lips. "I love you, you annoying Dickweed."

"Love you more, Sugartits." He grinned cheekily before lowering himself to you with a hiss-like laugh. "Tight as ever, and that's why I love you,"

"If you keep talking nonsense while you're literally inside me, I'll cut off your dick,"

"Sounds kinky."

"Adam."

"Fine, Fine, you're so vanilla." He mused, albeit his tone was much softer, fonder than his earlier teasing. His hands grabbed under your knees and pressed you close with a snap of his hips. You both let out a moan, yours higher pitched and needier, bucking your hips, searching for more friction than he was currently providing. You always savored the way he was able to fill you up, he wasn't the longest but god was he thick filling you in all the right ways. Every time his hips snapped into you, you could feel just how deep he kissed your cervix. "Yeah, you like that?" He panted, "Like how deep I'm getting? From the way you're dripping, you're practically soaking through my table. Your vag is like a vice, babe, so tight for this big cock."

"Hm. Your words always know how to turn me o-ng-ff." You moaned out this end at a particularly sharp thrust of his hips. "Fuck you," You panted as he grinned down at you,

"Good news, wifey, that's exactly what we're doing-"

"Sir!" You let out a scream as Lute slammed the door of his office open, you climbed against Adam's body like an embarrassed Nun. He groaned, still inside you but having the decency to cover you with his wings.

"What do you need, Lute? I'm a little busy getting it on with my sexy ass wife." Adam complained, motioning to the top of your head, to which you made an embarrassed sound of mortification. "Can this be rescheduled or-"

"The Princess of Hell is here, Sir. She just showed up-"

"Are you for real telling me that the bitch Princess of Hell is seriously cucking me right now?!"

"...Yes."

"(Y/n) If I killed her for interrupting us, would you be pissed?"

"Beyond Adam."

"Fuck."

[teliphone]

Corrupt Desire

Summary: You’re an FBI agent who successfully captured the deadliest hitman, Rio Vidal. You hate to admit you have fallen in love with the criminal. Rio's psychotic games rope you back into her life. Just as she calculated, you can’t help but fall to your knees for her. Her beauty and sinister mind make her too irresistible. 

Warning(s): Smut, Oral, Fingering, Manipulation. 

Word Count: 5.9k 

-

“Put your bag in the bin please,” The security guard orders from the side. You take your large bag off your shoulders and place it into the bin. The guard slides it past the metal scanner and gestures to you to step forward. Before you can grab your bag, a female guard stops you. She snaps on light-blue latex gloves as she looks at your figure up and down with a stern face. 

“I have to search your body for any weapons or illegal substances,” She explains. You shyly smile and nod your head. A body search is a requirement when entering through this specific prison. She walks over til she is face to face with you. Her blue eyes stare briefly into yours, causing you to glance at the ceiling. She starts to run her fingers along your arms. Then you feel her slide down your hips to your thighs. Her fingers tug around the inside of your waistband. Lastly, she quickly slides along your core area. You feel a small blush appear out of embarrassment.

“You’re clear,” She reports. You quietly thank her and straighten yourself to grab your bag. She nods her head and tosses the gloves into the trash. She disappears behind the security door. You reach into the bag and shuffle around to find your ID card. You press the card against the glass and the front desk security writes your information down. The gates buzz and unlock. You tighten your grip on your bag and hesitate to step ahead. Before you can proceed, gates swing open and a man with a gray beard walks out. Judging by his badge you could tell he is the head warden of the prison. His button-up shirt is wrinkled with an obvious coffee stain around the stomach area. You avert your eyes up to his face to avoid staring. 

“You must be the FBI agent coming to interview Rio Vidal,” He assumes while rubbing his belly. You feel your stomach turn at the mention of her. 

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you,” You greet with a smile. You bring out a hand to shake, but he looks away too soon. You stare at your awkward hand with an embarrassing blush before placing it back on your side. He starts walking down the halls while explaining to you about the interview you were about to conduct. You quicken your steps to catch up with him. You glance around the hall, examining how everything is locked up and secured. It is also eerie quiet. 

“-Rio refuses to speak with anyone but you,” He informs, bringing your attention back to him. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why?” You question. He lets out a dry chuckle as if you just asked a silly obvious question. He doesn’t respond which makes you want the world to swallow you full. He leads you to another gate, a step closer to where the prisoners are stationed. He stops walking and presses his key card on a scanner. The gate buzzes and clicks open again. He opens the gate for you and gestures to you through. As you walk in, you take a peek through a random room and accidentally make eye contact with an inmate. Tattoos coated his whole skin and his dark eyes are calculated. He is getting checked up by a police officer. The inmate tilts his head slowly and smirks. He looks at you hungrily and jerks his hand up and down in a provocative gesture. The officer snaps his finger in front of the inmate and yells at him to focus. You quickly look away and grimace in disgust. 

“Sorry about that. Most inmates here have been locked up for ages… they tend to get hot pants,’ He laughs, ‘We get the most dangerous criminals in our facility. Our security is more uptight. It’s hard to do anything around here… if you know what I mean.” 

He lets out another chuckle, proud of his humor. You give him a nervous forced laugh. Thankfully he buys it and continues showing you the way. 

“About Rio… you mentioned she refuses to talk to anyone?” You bring her back into the topic. The reason why you’re here in the first place. 

“Correct. Many officers and detectives have been trying to get her to speak. All she says is to bring you,” He answers. You nibble your bottom lip and feel anxiety creeping up. It was one simple reason: you were the one who got her caught and arrested. 

“How… has she been?” You ask. 

“She’s quiet and lonely. No one dares to talk to ‘lady of death’.” He chuckles at the nickname that has spread throughout the prison. You look down at the floor. You clench your hands around the strap of your bag and shake your head. No, you shouldn’t feel bad. She’s a criminal. 

Before you know it, you have finally reached a room with a gate. It’s guarded by two guards with a rifle attached to their bodies. They stand with their heads lifted high. Their faces lack emotion. You have never seen someone guarding a door with guns that big. You wonder if that was necessary. The Warden notices your staring. 

“We need to take great precautions with Rio,” He explains. He unlocks the gate and you peek inside. There is a simple table with two chairs placed on opposite sides. There is nothing much else in the room, to limit any harm that could be done. You tug your bag closer to your body. 

“You don’t need to worry. There will be a guard inside the room with you. We will be watching in a room next door with the cameras we placed,” He assures. You weren’t necessarily nervous about getting harmed. You were anxious about seeing her. Nevertheless, you squeeze a smile at him and start walking into the room. You notice the installed camera in the top left corner. A camera that doesn’t voice record and only visually records. You take a seat furthest from the door. You place your bag down and pull out a file, notepad, and a pen. You place your hands on top of the notepad and start playing with your fingers. The waiting game is eating you up, making you more nervous than ever. You self-cautiously brush your hair to make yourself look decent and press your lips together to try and get some color in it. It has been a long time since you have last seen her. You stop your movement and drop your shoulders. You feel guilty thinking about the past. Guilty about the things you did to her. 

-

You were placed on a top-secret case by your FBI team. Rio Vidal is the deadliest hitman. The mission was simple: Get close to Rio and get her to let her guard down so she can be captured. The only reason why you were chosen is because Rio has a history of being with younger women. You didn’t realize how much she trusted you until the doors of her apartment were getting kicked down. She quickly rushed to shield you. You feel your heart crack in guilt. Officers full of gear rushed in and pulled you away from her while the other half grabbed her. She thrashed against their hold. You yell at the officers to be more gentle on her as she is being shoved onto the ground to be handcuffed. Your FBI partner walked over and gave you a pat on the back. Usually, you would be happy, but in this case, you couldn’t. When Rio looked at you, you could see the realization sink in. It was a slight movement, but you saw it. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her eyes expressed hurt. Just as quickly as you saw it, as fast it disappeared. She replaced it with a cold-hearted smile. You tense up and freeze. That’s the last sight you saw of her. 

-

You see a body appear behind the gate. The bright color orange catches your eyes first. You feel your heart stop pounding. There is Rio Vidal in the orange prison uniform. She stares at you with an unexplainable expression. You nervously gulp. The gate swings open and the guards push her to take a step. She stumbles a little. Her hands are cuffed with loose chains around her ankle. The metal chain sounds loud in the quiet room. The guards shove her into the seat and she lets out a soft grunt. You flinch at their actions. You believe they didn’t have to be that aggressive with her. They turn around and start to leave.

“Excuse me,” Rio speaks up. Her voice sounds deeper and raspier than you remembered. The guards stop in their tracks and look over. She brings her handcuffed hands up and waves them. 

“How can I have a pleasant time with my date if I’m cuffed?” She smiles. You feel your cheeks warm up. They look at you for permission in which you nod your head. You trust she won’t do anything. Rio smirks and brings her hand to the guards. She watches closely as they take out a key and start unlocking her handcuffs and chains. She slowly rolls her free wrists and hums in delight. The deep sound from her throat makes you gulp. Finally, one guard leaves while one remains in the room near the door. Rio turns her body fully to face you. You take note of her features. Prison hasn’t been gentle to her. Her eyes look tired and wrinkles are starting to form. But even with that, you couldn’t deny the attractiveness that she holds. She tilts her head up as she examines you as well. She bites her lower lip to try and conceal her excitement. 

“I missed you,” She confesses. You avert your eyes to the guard and back to her. You feel embarrassed to have someone else hear a criminal flirting with you. She narrows her eyes and shakes her head. 

“If you can’t keep your attention on me. I want him out of the room,” She demands. You widen your eyes. 

“That is unnecessary,” You explain. 

“If you don’t get him out of the room. I refuse to talk,” She says. You furrow your eyebrows at her. She shrugs her shoulders and leans back onto the chair. She playfully looks around the room to keep herself entertained. 

“Rio…” You try getting her attention. She ignores you. You let out a sigh. This is no good. You need to get the job done. You look at the guard and gesture at him to leave. He hesitates at first but decides to listen. Rio’s lips curl into a smile when she hears the gate behind her close. She places her hands on the table and leans forward. An attempt to close the distance. You lean back, but the chair limits you. 

“Finally. Just you and me,” She grins. You let out a shaky breath. Your eyes flicker down to her lips in a second, but she catches it. Your hand slides to grab a pen. You click it and place it against the notepad. 

“I am here to talk to you about the victims you killed-“

“Did you miss me?” She cuts. She smiles innocently. Her eyes are wide like a doe, except you know she is far from innocent. The woman in front of you is sinister and well-calculated. 

“Rio, that is inappropriate to ask,” You warn, fidgeting with the pen. She ignores you and continues talking while playfully tapping her fingertips against the table surface. 

“You came sooner than I expected. Couldn’t resist seeing me?” She teases. You accidentally grip the pen harder til your knuckles turn white. 

“I am here for my job. Not for you,” You snap. She widens her eyes as she smiles, trying to act offended. 

“Will you look at that? You seem to have grown into your big boy pants,” She snickers. You were about to snap back til you narrowed your eyes at her. Her lips start to twitch. 

You know what she was doing. She was trying to rail you up and observe if she can still control your emotions. You knew she was secretly obsessed with dominance. You’ve seen it sparkle in her eyes when you fall into her schemes. She had made you go against your morals and unknowingly act like a puppet on a string. 

“I am not going to play your games this time,” You grumble. 

“Oh sweetie… you’ve already stepped into my playground,” She whispers. Chills run down your spine, but you try your best to ignore her. You slide a photo of one of her victims in front of her. You point your finger at it. 

“Tell me why you decided to kill this man,” You order. She tilts her chin down to look at the victim. She fakes a yawn and shrugs her shoulders. 

“He deserved it,” She sighs in boredom. You slide another photo to be side by side. 

“How about him?”

“Same thing,” 

“Him?” You add another photo. She gives the photo a quick glance, not even trying to fully look. 

“I didn’t kill him,” She addresses. She brings up her short fingernails to inspect. She notices a little dirt and focuses on digging it out. You let out a disbelief sigh, feeling your frustration building. 

“Yes, you did,” You remind her slowly. She lifts her head in amused shock. She leans her head to take a good look at the photo. Her eyes scan the face and then light up.

“Oh! Yes, yes I remember him now. I must have forgotten,’ she giggles, ‘Men look and act too alike.’ You quickly jot it down. You already knew this about her, but it is a small start. 

“So all these men have the same characteristic,” You repeat. She groans and rests her chin on her hand. 

“Yes, isn’t it obvious?” She mumbles. 

“I just need a clarification-“ She cuts you off by saying your name. The way your name rolls off her tongue sends a chill down your spine. It’s the dominating tone she loves to use. You immediately stop talking. You peek up at her between your lashes. She licks her bottom lip and dramatically waves her hand.

“I’ve been waiting for so long to see you and all you’re talking about is some foolish men?!” She fake cries. She pauses between her amusement to think. You furrow your eyebrows at her random action. Suddenly she brings her hand out to touch yours. Her rough fingertips rub the softness of your skin. Your mind storms with thoughts. You fight against yourself from enjoying her touch. Your breathing shakes. The corner of her lips curl into a smile when she realizes your inner struggle. Reality kicks in and you jerk your hand away. Your eyes dart to the camera. There are people on the other side watching. You didn't want them to see. She narrows her eyes and smiles daringly. She can tell you’re worried about the camera. You glare at her, ignoring the pounding of your heart. She pouts and returns her hand to her side. Your tense body starts to relax as you see her lean away. You thought it was the end of her playfulness, but it was just the beginning. 

“They can’t hear us,” She whispers. Suddenly you feel her foot dragging up your calves slowly. You widen your eyes at her to try and stop her. But that was pointless. You self cautiously nibble your bottom lip to ignore the build-up in your lower stomach. You dry swallow and force yourself to look normal. Her eyes darken when she realizes you’re not pulling away. She figures that underneath the table away from view is where she can mess around. 

“I’ve been lonely here,” She sighs, drawing small circles with her fingers on the table. You couldn’t speak as if she cast a spell on you. She drags her foot higher, touching the inner side of your knee. You let out a soft hick in your breath. Your cheeks start to feel warm.  

“Rio,” You warn vocally. She points a finger at you in a taunting way. 

“Let me ask you questions,” She glares. You couldn’t believe how easy it was for her to switch roles. You feel your jaw clench. Why are you so weak around her? It was as if you were the one in handcuffs.

“Did someone touch you while I’m in here?” She challenges. She asks in a joking tone, but you know better. You keep your face stone cold and refuse to talk. Her smile slowly drops. 

She misread you. 

She starts laughing like a maniac with her head tilted back which exposes her bare neck. Within a second she slams her fist onto the table. Your heart skips a beat in fear. Her face darkens and she clenches her jaw. The guard pounds onto the gate as a warning. 

“Who was it?” She commands. How dare she accuse you of such action. You lean close to her face. Her eyes waver at your presence, secretly enjoying your closeness. She nearly leans in, but she composes herself. 

“I am nothing like you,” You grimace. Your expression was laced with disgust. 

“Oh, but you are… admit it,” She taunts. You break eye contact to look down. The room is starting to get stuffy. You shift in your seat uncomfortable.

Rio knew this little part of you the moment she laid eyes on you. You were too infatuated with her crimes. You were never scared around her. You wanted to understand, but the lines between investigation and interest started to blur. You enjoy the chaos that Rio brings… and you hate that. You wanted to just be a normal FBI agent, but everyone else around you is too simple-minded. You needed a spark in which Rio satisfies. 

A nudge of her foot brings you back. Before you can react, she leans her body across the table to invade your space. She inhales your scent and sighs in pleasure. She misses you so much she couldn’t believe how long she was able to last without you. She tilts her head til her lips reach your ears. 

“You feel sick that you love me,” She whispers. Your heart slams against your chest. 

She caught you. The real truth.

You shove yourself away from the table. The chair squeaks awfully against the floor. Photos and papers flutter around and drop. Rio lets out a sickening cackle during the chaos. The guards barge through the gate and rush in. She puts her hand up in surrender. They roughly pull her arms back to handcuff her. She grunts in pain as they manhandle her. The warden rushes to your side to check up on you. 

“Are you alright?” He worries. You place a hand on your racing heart and dry swallow. You glance over to see Rio being dragged out of the room. She tries to give you one last look, but the guards tug her. 

“I am fine,” You reply, brushing your clothes in an attempt to collect yourself. You shakingly grab your bag. You give him a forceful smile before walking out. As you walk down the long hallway you place a hand on your forehead as a headache kicks in. 

-

You slam your hands against the metal table. The tight handcuffs around your wrist are starting to hurt. The detective in front of you rarely budges. Her gray suit hugs her curves well. She points at the bank blueprint. 

“Tell me how you planned the heist,” She orders.

“I didn’t do it!” You argue. She narrows her eyes and leans back into the chair. She tries to read you deeper. You didn’t understand how you got into this position. The detectives are accusing you of a bank heist on which you truly had no time to do. You’ve asked for your FBI team, but the police station refuses to allow you to talk to others. 

“Then explain to me why the robbers knew your name and address. They told us that you were the one who hired them,” She argues. She slams more photos onto the table. Evidence that shows purchasing receipts under your name and many more. You shake your head in shock and confusion. All of this does not make sense. You look up at her with pleading eyes. 

“Please let my FBI team handle this case. It wasn’t me,” You cry. It was a setup, but from who? There are plenty of people who are against you due to your label. The detective shakes her head and starts collecting the papers. She stands up and tugs her suit.

“If you’re not going to cooperate with me. We’ll find another day to discuss. Have fun being locked up for the time being,” She states as she struts away. You tug on the handcuffs and cry out to her. Begging her to let you go and that all of this was a setup. You didn’t care how the metal was digging into your skin. You were innocent. The door shuts, leaving you behind to sob alone in the empty room. 

-

You watch outside the window of the large van carrying other prisoners. Each woman has a different background and crime. You squeeze yourself the furthest away from everyone. You didn’t belong here. The van slows down in front of the prison you were at not long ago. An officer slides the van door open and orders everyone to get out. You helplessly follow along with everyone else. Getting out was a little hard due to the limitations of the handcuffs. The new set of inmates walk in a line to the first room. Everyone is ordered to strip to shower, do a full body search, and then given an orange suit. An officer starts directing everyone to a specific section of the prison when another officer stops you. 

“You. Come with me,” He orders. The other inmates look at you curiously but don’t dare to speak. They start taking a step away from you. You shake your head no, anxiety creeping up. 

“Why?” You squeak. 

He clenches your shoulders and drags you away from the inmates you came in with. You thrash against him til you eventually stop. He tugs you along without saying anything else. You anxiously look around to try and understand where he was bringing you. You notice he was bringing you deeper into the prison. The area begins to be more dark and eerie. You pass by many prison cells. Each is filled with women gawking at you like predators. A few of them whistled and laughed. You’re starting to realize this section of the prison is different from the one you were previously assigned to. 

“W-where are you taking me,” You ask. You try to stop walking, but he continues to push you along. After a few more minutes he stops in front of a prison cell. 

“This is your cell from now on,” He finally speaks up. He removes his hand from your shoulders. You immediately start rubbing the side of your shoulder to ease the gripping pain. He takes out a chain of keys and starts to unlock the cell. The gate swings open and you notice a woman with her back facing you already in it. Your cell partner. You take a step forward to go in, but then quickly stop. The woman in the cell turns around with a sinister smile. 

“Hello, my love,” Rio purrs. Your blood runs cold. You turn and attempt to run, but the officer grabs your body. You fight against him as much as you can. He grunts at the amount of force you're putting out. 

“You can’t put me in here!” You cry out. He pushes you into the cell and slams the gate shut before you can escape. You put your hands out to try and grab him. He quickly slips away and walks down the hallway, ignoring your begging. He disappears and your sobbing quiets down. You clench onto the cold metal gate. It was no use. Shaking, you turn around to face her. She stands at a good distance with a calm expression. 

“Are you done?” She asks. You glare at her venomously. She chuckles, her eyes twinkling. She brings her fingers up to her lips and rubs her bottom. 

“Just you and me again,” She smiles. 

“Don’t touch me,” You warn. She looks at you offended and points at herself. She shakes her head no slowly.

“You have no authority to order me around anymore. We are both here wearing orange suits-“

“I don’t belong here. It was a mistake,” You huff. She starts laughing a little hard while holding her stomach. She collects herself by letting out one small chuckle. She immediately stops and playfully narrows her eyes at you. She takes a teasing step towards you. You try taking a step back, but the gate traps you. 

“I know it was a mistake,” She starts. Your fearful face starts to drop. Your mind racing with the words she just spoke. 

“I mean… look at you. You wouldn’t even hurt a fly,” She whispers. Once she is in front of you she brings her hands up to your chin, slightly gripping it. She looks lovingly into your eyes. 

“I did this to you,” She whispers a confession. You try to shove her back, but she resists. You’ve lost all your strength from earlier. She grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the gate. She gently pulls you deeper into the room and wraps your hand around her shoulders. She then places her hands around your waist and pulls you close. 

“It was easy really. Planning and planting your name in the heist. It was like playing chess,” She whispers. Her breath tickles your ears. She starts swaying her body, forcing you to follow along. A slow dance as she inhales your hair. 

“You manipulating freak,” You choke out. She lets out a soft hum. Her fingers draw slow circles around your hip. 

“You caused this,” She claims. You close your eyes and clench your jaw. 

“I only have a few more days with you till your silly team takes you away from me,” She sighs, pulling away from the hug. She cups the side of your face with her hands. Her eyes are dilated with need. She leans her face to kiss you, but you turn your head to the side. Your heart has a mind of its own. It is pounding loudly. 

“Don’t do that,” She frowns. She takes your hand to place it on her chest. You can feel the fast beats of her heart underneath your fingers. A blush appears on your cheeks. She truly does feel for you. 

“I’ve been good. I waited for you,” She begs for approval. You turn your face to glare at her again. You were not willing to let your walls down. 

“It was my job to seduce you, what do you not understand?” You snap. She shakes her head in denial. Her pupils are black like the void. You could get lost in them. 

“But you fell in love during the act,” She argues. She wants you to admit the truth. She wants you to stop lying to yourself. Your eyes start to water in anger, confusion, and denial. 

“That’s… not true,” You try to sound truthful. 

“Do you really not feel anything when I do this?” She asks before softly pressing her plump lips against yours. You clench your fist as she barely deepens the kiss. She gently pulls away to examine your reaction. You let out a shaky breath, chest pumping up and down. She’s a genius body reader. You knew you couldn’t lie anymore. 

“You’re a criminal… I shouldn’t think this way,” You reject her. You feel your eyes starting to tear up. Your inner struggle is resurfacing. She rubs her thumb against your bottom lip. Her eyes fill with love.

“Don’t think… feel,” She whispers before kissing you again. Your mind threatens to come up with lies until you decide to feel. Just like what she said. She’s a psychopath, her moves are always calculated.. but god you love that so much. Even if this is part of her plan to get you to break, you will give in. You love her sick mind. No one else can think the way she does. 

You kiss back with caution. You shamefully believe a small kiss wouldn’t mean anything. She hums between the shared kiss and it stirs something in you. You wanted to hear it again. You press into the kiss with more passion. Your mouth opens to slide your tongue into her mouth. The feeling of need bursts through your body after being kept hidden. Her tongue touches against yours. She smiles between the kisses as she moans again. She knew she successfully broke you again. You were hers and she never felt happier. She never felt this amount of satisfaction when killing men. No, only you were the one to evoke this feeling in her. 

“Kneel,” She demands as she pulls away from the kiss. Your lips are wet, red, and slightly swollen. You try to kiss her again, but she places her hand on your head. She chuckles a little as she pats your head to go down. You look at her with worried eyes, but she gently assures you. You eventually obey her and start to kneel on the cement floor. The ground is rough on your knees. You rub your hands on her thighs before looping your fingers at her waistline. You tug and help her get her pants and panties off. You lick your lips as you stare at her core. She spreads her legs and gently tugs your head to come closer. Her scent clouds your thoughts. 

“Reward me. I’ve been waiting so long,” She begs. You have never heard her this needy before. You give her inner thighs kisses before you split her folds with your fingers. You stick out your wet tongue and slowly lick her clit. She sighs and rubs her fingers through your hair. Your tongue continues to circle her clit so that you can get her more wet. You give her clit a few sucks which causes her to groan softly. She licks her lips and grips your head harder. Your tongue drags along her slit and back up to her clit. Her juice is starting to leak out more. You hum in satisfaction as your saliva mixes in with her silky juice. Your tongue pushes into her core to collect more. You go back to her clit to lick and suck harder and faster. She rolls her hips into your mouth. You look up to see her cheeks red. Her mouth slightly opens and her lower exposed stomach flexes. You roll your tongue harshly against her clit and she moans. 

“Fuck… I miss this,” She breathes. She puts two hands on your head and pushes you into her. She uses your head to please herself at the pace she wants. You close your eyes and stick out your tongue to make yourself a use for her. Her hips thrusting into your mouth becomes more harsh. Her liquid starts to spread all over your lips and chin. She moans a little louder, causing you to tap her thighs to warn her to stay more quiet. 

“Your mouth feels too good,” She grunts. You grip her thighs to keep her still as you suck and lick hard. She rolls her head back and moans. Her face expresses ecstasy and pleasure. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her mouth opens to whimper and moan. She looks so good like this. Your cunt clenches painfully at nothing. 

“Keep going, I'm close,” She hums. She grabs your hair hard, almost making you cry out. Her juice is rolling down your chin. Her moan starts becoming high-pitched, indicating how much closer she is. You bring your middle and ring finger up. You easily push it into her wet pulsing core. You pull your fingers in and out quickly, before curling and pressing into her walls. You don’t lose focus of your pace. She brings one hand up to cover her mouth from moaning too loud. Her thighs start to shake uncontrollably. She reaches her high and eases herself out by jerking her hips into your mouth. She cusses and moans while gently patting your head. Once she finishes, she tugs your head away from her wet core. Your lower face is covered in her sweet juice. Her chest moves up and down as she catches her breath. She smiles sweetly at you, still kneeling, waiting for her orders. 

“Come here,” She says. You stumble a little getting up from the hard ground. You take off the orange suit. The cold prison air prickles your skin. She pulls you into another passionate kiss. Her finger starts playing with your core, causing you to moan into her mouth. Your cunt is already wet from pleasing her. She easily collects your silk with her middle finger to mess with your clit. You were louder than her, causing her to shut you up with kisses. She doesn’t go slow, she rubs quickly and ruthlessly. You gasp and grip onto her shoulders. 

“You wanted this,” She chuckles. 

“Y-yes,” You pant. She shoves her long middle finger into you. She finds it coming in and out too easily. She decided to add in her ring finger. She wants to feel your walls squeeze around her digits. You feel the air in your lungs getting shut off for a moment. The stretch feels so good. You jerk your hips into her hands. 

“Stay still,” She orders, spreading your legs more. She leans her face back to kiss you as she thrusts her hands into you harder causing your legs to shake. You let out a loud moan which makes her stop. She leans back and glares at you. You were too loud. She takes her other hand to grip your face. Her face is stern. 

“Keep quiet or else the guards will remove you,” She warns. You quickly nod your head while licking your lips. It might be a hard task, but you’re not willing to risk it. 

She releases her grip from your face. She places her hand over your mouth to shut it. She returns to adding a third finger in without warning. You sob into her hands. Your stomach clenches in pain and pleasure. The wet sounds of her fingers thrusting into your core are embarrassingly loud. She loves it so much. If she couldn’t hear your screams at least she can hear this. Your silk is running down her knuckles, making a mess. She leans her lips to your ears and whispers praises. 

“You’re such a good dirty girl for me,” She purrs. You clench around her digits and shut your eyes. You cuss into her hands. Your legs start to shake and you feel yourself getting close. She hungrily craves your orgasm. She keeps her fast and harsh pace, causing you to hold onto her or else you will fall. You moan and whimper into her palm. She can feel you getting close. She knows your body too well. 

“Come for me baby,” She licks the shell of your ears. With a few more harsh thrusts, your breathing stops as you release yourself to her. She continues fingering you through your orgasm. Your liquid rolls down your thighs. She removes her other hand from your lips and you gasp for air. She gently pulls her three fingers out of you. Your core is still pulsing. She shushes you and kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, then to your lips. You try your best to kiss her back as you still feel lightheaded. You pull away, holding her face close to yours. 

“I love you,” You weakly confess. You allow yourself to feel. You didn’t care if everyone was going to judge you. She pauses in awe. She couldn’t believe it at first, but your words finally reached into her heart. She engulfs you in a hug. You can feel the vibration from her laughter. The sound echoes down the hallway. The guards and inmates furrow their eyebrows. The first time they hear the ‘lady of death’ in pure happiness.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Loyalty is Hot - Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Request: "I was hoping for a fic where Reader is Adam's third wife and they meet Lucifer (maybe in a meeting?) and he states how he could take Reader from Adam as well. Adam is kind of internally panicking as Lucifer states what it took to take his other two wives until Reader gets all fed up and rudely puts him in his place. Causing Adam to get all hot and bothered for his wifey and their loyalty?"

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, semi-public sex (they fuck in a meeting room), Adam being himself, creampie, slight angst, SMUT, MDNI

You hated meetings, or waking up for them more specifically. It seemed that every time your husband dragged you to one it was at the earliest time possible, a time you'd much rather be spending in bed with him, enjoying the time of day where Heaven was at its most peaceful. It was also the time of day when Adam, sleepy and in a loving mood, was least annoying (which pained you a bit to admit, especially considering how much you loved him.)

"Hey! Wake the fuck up, babe! Don't fall asleep on me, not here." Adam nearly shouted, gently poking at you before you fell asleep on his shoulder in the meeting room. You opened your eyes with a sigh, keeping your head rested against your husband.

"Who are we even meeting with? More importantly, why haven't they shown up yet? It's been at least an hour," You questioned, a rising annoyance in your voice. Adam had sprung this meeting on you at the literal last minute, saying something along the lines of 'I need to show off my hot-as-fuck wife,' before practically dragging you out of bed; no more information given. Being the good wife you were, you accompanied him, albeit with some complaining. The last thing you were expecting, however, was for the meeting to be in Hell.

"We're meeting with Lucifer," He explained, the wide grin on his face shown on his mask. "I can't wait to see that fucker's face when he sees how sexy you are and realizes that you're all mine." One of his hands moved down to place itself on your thigh as he leaned in, smirking. "Who knows, maybe I'll even bend you over and fuck you right here on this table while he—"

You glared at him, smacking his hand away with a hiss of his name. He drew it back, letting out an amused laugh. "We are here on business," You reprimanded, an upset frown on your face. "Could you at least save the horny talk for after the meeting? Y'know when we're not in Hell?" Despite your reaction, you had to admit that the idea your husband had conjured up was kinda hot when you thought about it more in depth.

Fuck, you could see it now, feel it even. Back pressed against the table while your husband loomed over you, beautiful golden eyes staring into yours as you spread your legs for him. His thick cock sinking into you slowly, only for him to start with a quick, animalistic pace–just the way you liked it. Fuck, and the way his hands would reach out, grabbing at whatever he could; your ass, tits, thighs, anything that was soft and grabbable.

You hadn't realized the blush that had spread across your face until you saw your husband's smug grin. "Awww, did that turn you on, baby?" He cooed, almost mockingly. "Remember what you said, 'Save it for after the meeting.' Can't jump on me just quite yet." He leaned back in his chair, the grin on his face only growing as you shot him a harsh glare. As much of a lover of sex as he was, Adam loved teasing you even more.

You opened your mouth to argue back at him, slightly embarrassed by his use of your own words against you, but you were cut off by the sound of the door opening and closing. You turned your head, spotting the King of Hell himself. He looked just the way Adam had always described: pale white skin, rosy red cheeks, golden hair, noseless, and short. So short.

You stood from your seat as Lucifer approached the table, the sound of his boots against the tile of the floor filling the otherwise large, quiet room. You smiled, holding out a hand to shake, your typical behavior for business matters, regardless of who it was. "Hello, Your Majesty," You greeted politely, earning an eye roll from your husband next to you.

Lucifer returned your smile with one of his own, taking your hand and shaking it. "Who might this beautiful angel be, Adam?" He questioned, pressing a light kiss to your hand before letting it go and sitting down. Adam smirked as you sat back in your seat next to him, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in close; not letting his annoyance at Lucifer's small display of affection be visible on his face.

"This is (Y/N), my wife. She's gorgeous, isn't she? A real hottie. Did I mention she's my wife?" He introduced, taking pride in having you by his side. Lucifer glanced at you, looking unamused by Adam's obvious boast before smiling at you. "Well, I certainly hope she's happy with you. Y'know, considering your history with your other wives." He antagonized, covering it up with a polite tone.

Adam's smile faltered. A sensitive topic had been brought up, one that challenged your husband's confidence. You looked between the two, taking note of how they glared at each other with mutual hatred. Lucifer turned his attention fully onto you, leaning in slightly. "Tell me, dear. Does he even satisfy you? Are you happy with him?" You opened your mouth slightly in shock, taken back by the sudden, blunt questioning.

"Fuck you! Of course she's happy with me!" Adam growled. "She's not like those last two bitches who'd settle for you of all people, you short fuck." Despite his assertion, you could hear the doubt in his voice, like he was trying to convince himself of it, too. Lucifer grinned, sharp teeth on full display, not affected whatsoever by your husband's burst of anger.

"It's not my fault that your wives like me better, Adam," Lucifer replied snidely. "All it took for Lilith was a man who did more than the bare minimum, and as for Eve, all it took was giving her a choice of who she wanted to be with for once, and that someone certainly wasn't you."

Lucifer then motioned to you. "I wonder what it'll take for me to win your third wife over, probably not much, to no fault of her own. You're probably leaving her just as unhappy as you did the last two, Adam." You watched as Adam tensed up at Lucifer's words, any confidence now gone as he struggled to keep up his self-absorbed facade.

"T-Thats not true," He stuttered, one of the few times you had ever seen him do so in all of the years you had known him. The drop in Adam's demeanor was the final straw, and you calmly got up from your seat. Both men's eyes followed you, watching your movements closely. Even with the mask on his face, you could see the fear in your husband's eyes as he watched you approach Lucifer.

"Honey? Baby?" Adam called out to you, watch as your face morphed into one of pure anger; a sight that even scared the King of Hell himself. They both knew that you were far from happy, and that was never a good thing.

"First of all, Lucifer," You hissed, saying his name with pure malice. "I am not Lilith, nor am I Eve. I may have been created with the same purpose in mind, but let it be known that we are far from similar." You slowly got closer to him, almost like a predator stalking its prey in the most terrifying way possible. "Second of all, yes I am happy. Clearly happier with Adam than Lilith was with you, considering how she up and left you and went only God knows where. I also don't see Eve around."

Lucifer's smile fell for the first time that day, and with it, his pride. Adam watched in astonishment as you continued to put Lucifer in his place. "Finally, I need you to understand that you're far from being my type. You're a coward who barely governs his people, yet so proudly calls himself the boss. Then you waltzed in here acting like you knew me better than I know myself, even when we had just met. I love Adam with every fiber of my being, even if he's the most obnoxious jackass I've ever met."

You got even closer, causing Lucifer to lean back in an attempt to escape you. "Oh, and for the record—" You leaned into his ear. "Adam fucks me better than I'm sure you've ever fucked anyone else in your pathetic life. So, yes, he does satisfy me." You whispered. You pulled back suddenly, a smile on your face. "Is that understood?"

Lucifer gulped, nodding in reply. "Lovely." You grinned, moving back to Adam. "Now, I'm afraid we're out of time. We'll have to reschedule this meeting for another day, preferably with someone else. Maybe you can send someone in your stead? Someone who's more politically involved in your Kingdom's workings, perhaps."

Lucifer let out an awkward laugh, standing up before making his way to the door, mumbling something about how we would send his daughter instead next time, before leaving. You stood triumphant, hands on your hips as you watched his departure.

"I—" Adam began, almost at a loss for words. "Are you aware how fucking hot that was!? Holy shit—" He pulled you down into his lap, pulling his mask off before crashing his lips against yours, kissing you eagerly. He pulled you down by the hips, grinding you against him, causing you to feel his growing hard-on through the fabric of his robes. "Fuck–Please, I know you said we have to wait, but please please please let me fuck you right here. Need you now."

You grinded down, a moan escaping both of you. "Why don't you do what you said you'd do earlier, hmm? Fuck me right here on this table, Adam." He bent you over the table, and you let him pull your skirt up just enough for him to be able to then tug your underwear off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room.

"Impatient today, aren't you, hon?" You teased playfully, looking back to find him not even bothering to take off his robes, choosing to pull them up instead. He chuckled, placing his hands on your hips as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Seeing you put annoying little fucks like Lucifer in their place does things to me, baby." He purred, thrusting in.

You let out a gasp at the feeling, his thick cock stretching you out perfectly. His pace was quick from the start, hips snapping against yours as the sound of it all filled the room. "I bet Lucifer couldn't fuck you like this now, could he? No, you need a real man to show you who you belong to." Adam groaned, kissing and nipping at your neck.

"H-He could never," You stuttered, struggling to speak as your mind went foggy from pleasure. "I need—Oh, fuck!" You let out a cry as his fingers found your clit, rubbing at it. "That's a good girl, let all those pretty little noises out." He praised, the sound of your moans more beautiful than any Heavenly choir to him.

"You're so much better than those other whores," He moaned, pounding into you, eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy. "My perfect fucking wife, the love of my life—Shit—" He let out a growl as you clenched down on him. He let out a sweet laugh, hands moving up to grab at your tits while he fucked into you. "Oh? The praise turns you on, huh? You should be honored to receive it from me."

A mix of your moans and his spread throughout the room as you both drew closer to your climaxes, your shared noises growing louder and louder by the second. "Fuck," He cursed, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he rutted into you. "Gonna cum, 'm gonna fill you up. Maybe I'll even put a baby in you just to show Lucifer how in love with me you are."

"Do it—" You begged, legs quivering as he angled his cock in just the right way for the tip to graze your sweet spot. "Cum inside me Adam, let them know that I'm yours. All yours—A-Adam!" Your orgasm hit you with sudden force, the feeling coursing through you.

"Yesyesyes! Feels so fucking good cumming around me—" The sensation of your pussy contracting around him during your orgasm pushed him over the edge, and he came, shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside of you.

You rested your face against the table, no longer able to hold yourself up by your arms after the energy your climax had used up. Your orgasm subsided, but your body still shook, lightly trembling from the enjoyable onslaught it had just endured. You took deep breaths as Adam pulled out of you, feeling his cum leaking out of your well-fucked cunt.

He pressed soft kisses to your neck, holding you as you both basked in your post-orgasmic bliss together. "I love you," He mumbled against your neck, smiling. "You seriously have no idea how grateful I am for you to be my wife. You're absolute perfection, sweetheart." He pulled himself off of you, sitting back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. "You think some sinner scum is gonna have to clean our mess up? That shit would be hilarious."

You sighed, shooting him a harsh look that he only laughed at. "Adam," You warned. "Have some respect, would you?" He laughed again, pulling you down into his lap, grinning. "Respect? Baby, we just screwed in a fancy meeting room. We are past the point of failing to show respect."

He leaned in closer to you, mischief in his golden eyes. "Now, why don't we go for a round two?"

[poisonlove]

Absolutely ignore/get rid of this is you don't wanna do it buttt

Can I request a Wednesday x Fem!reader where Wednesday has a general disregard for everyone and their feelings EXCEPT for her little situationship (reader) and it's just little instances where she's softer with her?

YOU | w.a

pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

A/N : I tried to satisfy your request as much as possible but Wednesday and reader don't have a situationship, they will develop... something ;)

"The most precious things in life are usually the most helpless." Penn Badgley

Wednesday Addams walked along the corridors of Nevermore Academy with a brisk yet graceful step, the sound of her shoes against the cold marble determining her hurry to get to the library. The other students stepped aside as she passed, probably intimidated by her dark and menacing gaze that seemed carved into her features.

"Addams, one word"

Wednesday reluctantly stops, turning slightly and raising an eyebrow. Yoko Tanaka strides toward her, sunglasses perched on her head revealing a pleading look. Wednesday had no intention of wasting her time with her roommate’s best friend, but seeing the vampire in such a state of despair piqued her curiosity.

"What do you want Yoko?" Wednesday asked, her tone of voice deliberately rude. But the brunette didn't care at all.

"I need your help," Yoko began, trying to keep calm, but her voice betrayed a certain frustration. "Could you help me with Thornill's homework? I can't find the damn Moon Flower anywhere."

Wednesday could hardly believe her ears: how dare she interrupt her plans for something so stupid? With her classic impassive gaze, the brunette stared at Yoko in a prolonged silence that made her feel more and more uncomfortable.

"I don't care," Wednesday finally replied with venom and disinterest, surprising the vampire. "If you can't do such a stupid task, maybe you deserve to fail," the brunette added in a cutting tone.

"but it doesn't cost you anything!" Yoko exclaimed in despair.

Wednesday's behavior annoyed her deeply, but Yoko had hoped that following Enid's advice to be kind and tolerant would at least provide some relief. Apparently she was wrong.

"I said no, Yoko," Wednesday replied, her tone even more icy. Her gaze was steady and impenetrable, and her patience, already thin, was completely exhausted.

Yoko sighed deeply, realizing that pushing further would get her nowhere. She put her sunglasses back on in a quick, controlled motion, hiding her annoyance behind a forced smile. Her grin revealed her pointed canines, a gesture that might have seemed threatening in other circumstances, but here it only served to hide her irritation.

"ok, Addams"

with one last look, Yoko walked away, keeping that forced smile until she turned the corner. Wednesday didn't follow her with her gaze, already tired of that brief and, in her eyes, pointless interaction.

As she set off again, determined to finally reach the library, she was interrupted again. This time it was her two friends Ajax and Xavier who stopped her. The two approached quickly with an air of urgency that seemed to want to drag her into some other stupid discussion.

"Wednesday, can we talk to you for a moment?" Xavier asked hesitantly.

the brunette stopped again, clearly irritated now. her gaze narrowed to a slit of annoyance as she waited for them to speak.

"I have a problem with my new work... and I think you can help me," Xavier said, trying to be persuasive.

Wednesday looked at both of them coldly, her patience crumbling with every passing second. All of Nevermore ignored her and labeled her as the school freak, psychopathic and creepy... and now, by some strange twist of fate, everyone needed her today? She simply wanted to go to the library to further her research on poisons and their uses , see you , continue writing her story, or go to the cemetery later.

“I don't care,” she replied coldly, hoping Xavier would understand that she felt some urgency in leaving.

"Addams," Ajax intervenes, "I wanted to ask you for advice... you know that I'm interested in Enid and since you're her roommate..." the gorgon continues, purposely leaving the sentence hanging.

Wednesday stared at them in silence for a few moments, her impassive gaze betraying her impatience. "I don't care in the slightest about your problems and if you don't get out of my way immediately, I won't hesitate to make you regret this conversation" the brunette threatens in a low and cold tone.

Ajax and Xavier look at each other in confusion and fear, pondering Addams's words. They both knew Wedsnesday's reputation and the very real danger of being killed by the shorter girl terrified them.

they decided to step aside.

Wednesday continued on her way, completely ignoring them, while the two boys exchanged glances of resignation. The massive wooden doors finally loomed in the distance and the swarm of students' voices faded as she entered the less frequented part of Nevermore.

"WED!" an all-too-familiar voice shouts enthusiastically.

For the third time that day, Wednesday had to stop. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the killer instinct that threatened to surface and put an end to her blonde roommate's irritating exuberance. She was seriously starting to believe that it was a curse cast by her mother, some sort of psychological torture designed to test her patience. Unfortunately, it was far from her favorite torture, and she focused on something she knew would calm her down: you.

"Wednesday," Enid exclaimed, catching up with her with a beaming smile, "I was just looking for you... The Poe Cup is coming up again and we have to defend the title! You'll be there, right? We can't do it without you!"

Wednesday stared at the blonde, impassive. Entering the Poe Cup again was the last thing she wanted to do, but she knew Enid wouldn't give up so easily.

"I'll think about it," she replied, keeping her tone detached. She didn't want to seem too involved, but she didn't want to completely dampen Enid's enthusiasm either.

"Awesome!" Enid clapped her hands, thrilled by the response. Then she walked away, skipping happily down the hallway.

Wednesday watched her go, mentally wondering how Enid managed to maintain all that vitality. With a barely audible sigh, she finally resumed her walk towards the library. The brunette lifts the corners of her lips as she enters her haven of peace, looking at the shelves covered in books and dust.

the sound of footsteps echoes throughout the library, her figure getting lost among the endless avenues of shelves and books of Nevermore. Her diligently runs her fingers through the tomes, grazing their rough and fragile covers, the wisdom that hides within them. The few students who were there were busy reading or studying among the various desks scattered around that place, the silence broken only by the sound of the pages being turned.

but it is among those shelves that she finally sees: you

she knew basically the essential things about you: your name is Y/N; you are a year older than her, you are Italian, you love blue and your power is to control fire. You were very good friends with Yoko, for some strange reason, and you were a person who despite the aura of mystery and darkness that surrounded you, smiled and was kind to everyone.

she noticed you a few days ago and still hasn't figured out who you are. Were you really that nice? what's really bothering you Y/N?

Wednesday watched you intently, savoring your every move. She noticed the way you brushed your hair back from your face, the smile that lit up your face when you read something that excited you, and even the grimaces you made in response to bizarre or banal passages you encountered.

Some might call it stalking, but she's really just trying to understand you better.

her black eyes never left your figure: you were tall, you had a sharp jaw that accentuated your strong face and you had full lips that were somehow always ready to whisper something provocative or sarcastic. at that moment you had chosen to gather your hair in a messy bun, a practical choice but one that added a touch of carefree elegance to your appearance.

you were struggling with a pile of books that seemed to have a life of its own. Some had already fallen, scattering across the floor. You quickly bent down to pick them up, but each attempt only seemed to make things worse.

Were you disorganized or did your hunger for books make you so careless?

Wednesday realized it was the perfect time to come out of hiding. She approached you cautiously, then crouched down and picked up a couple of books. Her cold fingers landed on Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities by Amy Stewart, and a thin smile threatened to appear on her lips. She was almost certain that she was the only one, aside from maybe Thornill, who had read that book in the entire school. Finding out that you shared the same literary tastes hit her in a surprisingly pleasant way.

“Here.” Wednesday’s voice was almost a whisper, as if she were intimidated by the idea of an interaction.

your eyes lift from the floor to meet hers.

Wednesday held her breath. They were the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. You looked at her with curiosity, maybe surprise, but there was something in your eyes that made her feel strangely vulnerable.

“Thank you,” you croak embarrassedly, your cheeks pink knowing someone had witnessed your disaster.

“Maybe you should stop devouring more books than you can handle,” Wednesday said venomously. Her words were a wall behind which she hid the slight agitation she was trying to ignore.

you smile. Shouldn't you be annoyed by my answer?

"What's your name?" she asks curiously

Wednesday stared at you for a moment, cold as ever. “Wednesday,” she replied dryly, not giving anything away. But when you smiled again, the brunette felt a shiver run through her mind, one she tried desperately to ignore.

“Happy reading,” Wednesday adds quickly, turning around as she notices the slight look of confusion crossing your face. It was clear that you wanted to continue the conversation, maybe tell her your name, but Wednesday couldn’t stand there beside you without feeling her body boil.

she needed to leave the library and distract her mind

would have continued after the search, with the necessary calm

but there was an unexpected relief in knowing that she now knew her name

just like she knew yours.

A/N: yes I know, very inspired by the YOU series

[eniruok]

When ur rp partner is sick

[alsofoundinpeas]

Rewind the Goodbye

Summary: One night is all it takes to unravel everything Y/N and Spencer had carefully built over the years of their relationship. But sometimes, the things we break can be mended once more.

(Basically an AU for the events of season 15 episode 6 Date Night)

Requested fic!! 🥳: Can we get a smutty Spencer Reid x reader reunion? It's them passionately coming back together after a messy breakup (JJ's confession or Cat's date night). Basically Spencer grovelling and worshipping reader. Happy/hopeful ending!

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Cat Adams (she's a warning all on her own). Really intense argument (both Spencer and Reader say some pretty mean things). Oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected PinV sex (do not actually do this k thanks!!), creampie (can we pls find another word for this pls), crying during sex (both Spencer and reader oops), groveling/begging man (Spence, I'm looking at you babe), heavy praise, multiple orgasms (f!receiving) and slight overstimulation (both parties). Angst turned happy ending!! Ex's to lovers!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: My very first request!! :') Thank you so very much to the anon who requested this <3 I hope you like it! :) I chose to go with the Cat storyline because I had to prove I am NOT a JJ hater LMAO plus I felt like it was a really interesting dynamic to play off of because I always felt it was odd how chill Max was about her family getting kidnapped and him making out with an actual psychopath in front of her (I get that Max is simply a chill girl and beyond super understanding, which we love!! I’m just saying I personally would’ve tweaked a smidge (not on him, just overall LMAO). This was as fun as it was heart-wrenching to write and I truly hope you guys enjoy it. As always, please like, reblog, and share with your friends if you enjoy it. I love you all! K <3

Y/N remembered the night everything fell apart as if it had happened only yesterday.

She'd been on edge all evening, knowing Spencer was only on the date with Cat for the sake of his job and for the sake of rescuing her father and sister. It didn't make the plan any easier to swallow. Her mind raced with worry as she paced the apartment, waiting for him to come home. All she wanted was for her family to be safe. For Spencer to be safe.

Things had been strained between them ever since Spencer got out of prison. Y/N knew he couldn't be the same person he was before. She understood that. But she hadn't expected this—his detachment, the walls he'd built between them.

He stopped talking to her, stopped sharing his thoughts, retreating inward until the pressure became too much. Then, he'd snap—lashing out in bursts of anger, throwing things, slamming doors, yanking at his hair. He never turned that anger on her directly, but it didn't matter. Seeing the man she'd once known as calm and steady unravel before her was jarring and heartbreaking, especially after years of him being the embodiment of composure.

Y/N remained patient through it all. Spencer had endured more in his short life than most could fathom. The least she could do was offer her empathy and support, no matter how much he pushed her away, reacting like a wounded animal desperate to protect itself. She was determined to do whatever it took to help mend the beautiful, fractured man she loved, even if it meant enduring a few emotional scars along the way.

Y/N never expected those emotional scars to include all of this.

She could feel her heart shattering as the door to their apartment creaked open, revealing her fiancé passionately making out with the most vile woman to walk the Earth. His hands were cradling her face, pulling her into him as Cat stared straight at her.

It was more affection than Spencer had shown her since his release, and quite frankly it didn't seem like he was putting on much of an act.

The only reason Y/N was at the apartment instead of searching for her sister was because the team had located her father—thankfully, he was safe and unharmed, aside from a few bruises—and had contacted her with a plan that Spencer wasn’t aware of. They had uncovered Cat’s hidden agenda: Juliette had been watching Spencer and had discovered the one secret he’d managed to keep from Cat—her. Now, Cat wanted to destroy his life one final time before she died.

The team anticipated that Cat would want to return to their apartment to flaunt the fact that Spencer was 'hers.' Once Cat's ego was satisfied, she'd be more likely to slip up and reveal information about her sister's whereabouts. Y/N agreed without hesitation. After all, she’d do anything to ensure the safety of the people she loved—even if it meant putting herself in an uncomfortable and potentially dangerous position with a psychopath.

JJ had coached her on how to mask her emotions in front of Cat, preparing her for the inevitable confrontation. What JJ hadn't prepared her for was watching the love of her life shove his tongue down Cat's throat like he'd never felt the touch of a woman before.

Y/N braced herself, locking eyes with Cat as she adopted a detached, nonchalant demeanor.

Internally, she felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to curl up and sob into her knees until this nightmare was over. She had already felt powerless when Spencer was wrongfully imprisoned, and now the guilt of her father and sister being taken by Cat’s former cellmate was gnawing at her from the inside out.

All of that pain and heartache for a man who clearly no longer loved her.

Y/N remained composed for the rest of the evening, leaving with Emily as soon as possible to be with her dad and sister now that it was all over. She didn’t spare Spencer a single glance on her way out, choosing to fight that battle later.

And a battle it was.

When Y/N saw her sister's tear-streaked face and her father's defeated posture despite trying to put on a brave front, she knew she needed to stay with them for a few days. She ignored all of Spencer's calls and texts, replying only with a terse I'll be home by Friday. Though she tried to rationalize it as something Spencer had done out of necessity to save her family, the image of him kissing Cat haunted her, and she couldn’t bring herself to face him right now.

As Y/N stepped into their eerily silent apartment Friday night, she immediately realized how much of a mistake ignoring Spencer had been. She quietly closed the door behind her, slipped off her shoes, and placed them on the rack. But as she turned to head toward their room, she was met with the sight of Spencer right behind her, so unexpectedly close that she yelped, her heart racing as she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Jesus fucking Christ—"

"Why have you been ignoring me?"

Spencer’s voice was cold, his eyes filled with pain as he looked down at her. Y/N felt a rush of guilt at the expression on his face, her resolve faltering for a moment before she reminded herself why she had been avoiding him in the first place. That guilt hardened into anger, her eyes narrowing as she glared up at him.

"Why did you make out with a deranged criminal?"

Spencer stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape as confusion flickered across his face. Y/N brushed past him, heading into the kitchen. Her purse hit the counter with a loud clatter. She knew she wasn’t being fair, but the hurt and exhaustion weighed too heavily on her to care.

"Y/N, I didn’t have a choice—" Spencer protested, trailing after her with his hands raised in frustration. "I didn't know you'd be here! That was the last thing I wanted to happen, but I did it for the sake of the case."

She rolled her eyes, a bitter laugh escaping as she leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "So you can tongue-fuck her for the sake of the case... yet you won’t lift a finger to keep your fiancée?"

The words had left her mouth before she could stop them, but she meant them.

Spencer stood across the kitchen, a look of disbelief on his face. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why would I be losing you?"

Y/N chewed on her lower lip, casting her gaze to the floor. If there was ever a time to finally let it all out, now would be it. So, with a deep exhale, she began.

"Spencer… I’ve tried to be patient, and I’ve tried to understand, knowing what you went through was unimaginable. I'm not at all saying I expect you to be who you once were, because I know that's impossible. But most days, I feel more like your doormat than your fiancée. You only talk to me in short, half-hearted conversations, and I’m the one who usually has to start them. I feel like I have to beg for your time when you're home. We haven’t been on a date in months. You won’t even talk to me about the wedding anymore…" Y/N’s voice cracked as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I’ve tolerated all of that, and yet I’m supposed to just accept that you kissed the woman who not only destroyed your life, but mine too—taking the man I love and turning him into this… hollow version of who he used to be?"

All she wanted was for him to truly listen, to finally acknowledge how things had been between them, and to try—just try—to make an effort to fix them.

Instead, he did the opposite.

"Are you seriously playing the victim when what I did was to save your family?" Spencer snapped, disbelief in his voice. "Did you even consider for a second how traumatizing that whole night was for me? Going on a date with a woman who tried to kill my mother, who framed me for a crime I didn’t commit that left me rotting in that hellhole for months? But I’m the villain because I’m processing my own trauma, and I’m not up your ass planning a wedding I never even wanted?!"

Y/N's heart sank as his words cut through her, tears welling up in her eyes. A wedding he never wanted? The hurt and frustration she’d been suppressing for months bubbled to the surface, and she fixed him with a steely glare, her anger flaring.

"My family never would have been in that situation if you had a normal fucking job!" she shouted, her finger jabbing at him in accusation. "And as for the wedding you never wanted, fine. We won’t have one!" With a fierce motion, she ripped the ring off her finger and slammed it onto the counter before storming down the hallway toward their bedroom, tears streaming down her face.

Spencer’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he stared at the ring on the counter, his pride battling his guilt. Despite knowing he was in the wrong, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Y/N had been nothing but loving and devoted to him, yet something ugly inside him had taken over, and he couldn’t control it.

"That’s not what I meant," Spencer said, his voice tight as he went after her. "But if that’s how you want to spin it, fine—what are you doing?" He stopped dead in the doorway, his heart sinking as he watched Y/N hastily pack a duffle bag. What was he even doing?

"I can't do this anymore," Y/N sobbed, lifting the duffle bag onto her shoulder as she turned to face him. Her plan was to spend a night or two with her best friend to let everything die down between them so they could talk rationally.

She had only meant the fighting, but Spencer took it as the end of everything between them.

"Then leave! Since that's clearly what you want so badly," Spencer hissed, his voice sharp, though the tears welling in his eyes betrayed his anger. The last thing he wanted was for her to walk away. Why had he said that?

Y/N just shook her head, pushing past him and out of the room. She grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter and, with a furious shout of "Fuck you!" down the hall, slammed the front door behind her.

For the rest of the weekend, Y/N stayed with her family, retreating to her childhood bed every night where she cried herself to sleep. By Wednesday, she had found a one-bedroom apartment across town that was available to move into immediately. She checked with Emily, confirming that the team was away on a case (thankfully, Emily didn’t ask any questions). Y/N spent that week packing up her things, and moving out while Spencer was gone. On the day she left, she placed the key beside the ring on the counter, taking a final, aching glance at the symbol of everything she had once hoped for. Then, with a heavy heart, she closed the door, leaving everything she’d ever wanted behind.

Now, standing in her pajamas with her mouth slightly agape, Y/N found herself staring in disbelief at none other than Spencer Reid on her doorstep.

She blinked rapidly, ensuring she was awake and not caught in another dream. But she wasn’t dreaming. Spencer was standing before her—real, panting, and drenched. It was the first time she’d seen him since moving out three months ago, and 'exhausted' didn’t even begin to cover how he looked. Her mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the words.

“…How did you find out where I live?”

Spencer looked down, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I… I asked Penelope to find your new address."

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head as she reached for the door to slam it in his face. The nerve of him, having his coworker practically stalk her and then showing up after breaking her heart—

"Y/N, wait—please!" Spencer called out, wedging his foot in the door as she tried to shut it. "Just hear me out. Please?"

Her shoulders slumped as she paused, torn between the urge to shut him out and the pull to let him in. After a moment, she opened the door just wide enough for him to step through. As much as it pained her to face him, her love for him—and the ache of missing him—was deeper than words could ever express.

"I'll get you a towel, and then we can sit," Y/N muttered, rushing toward the bathroom as he stood by the door, slipping off his shoes.

Her heart clenched at the sight of him when she returned, their fingers lightly brushing as she passed him the plush towel.

Spencer was soaked through from the pouring rain, shivering as the damp fabric clung to his skin. She could see the discomfort in his posture as if the wet clothes were grating against him. He reminded her of those heart-wrenching shelter dogs in commercials—lost, vulnerable, and desperately needing care. He looked so pitiful… and all she wanted was to take care of him like she used to.

“Go sit on the couch. I’ll be right back,” Y/N instructed quietly, her expression softening as his weary eyes met hers.

Spencer furrowed his brows in confusion but complied, folding the towel and sitting carefully to keep the cushions dry. Y/N disappeared down the hallway, returning shortly with a pair of pajamas in her hands. As she offered them to him, a sharp pang of jealousy shot through him. He glanced down at the men’s clothes, then looked up at her, his expression filled with quiet hurt.

"Oh, come on," Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes as she sat beside him. "They’re yours. I… found them mixed in with my things and just kept them in my drawer."

That was a lie. She had carefully packed them, clinging to the smallest piece of him when she left. But what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

Spencer unfolded the clothes, the knot in his chest loosening as he recognized them as his missing pajamas. The jealousy that had gripped him slowly faded, replaced by relief. "Sorry," he said softly, standing up from the couch. "Where can I… um, change into these?"

"The bathroom's down the hallway, to the left," Y/N said, gesturing vaguely toward the dark corridor.

Once Spencer was changed into the dry clothes and not trembling like a leaf, he stiffly sat beside her again. Y/N frowned, taking a moment to really look at him, and a wave of concern washed over her. His once bright, maple-syrup eyes—eyes she used to gaze into with such love—were now dull and shadowed by dark circles. His stubble had grown out, and he sat hunched, as though the weight of the world was bearing down on him.

"Spencer… what are you doing here?" Y/N asked, her words cutting through the thick silence that had settled between them.

His gaze shifted from his hands, nervously twisting in his lap, to meet her eyes. There was a quiet, desperate longing in his gaze as he studied her, almost as if he were reacquainting himself with the woman in front of him. It had only been three months since they'd separated, but even a single day apart from her felt like an eternity.

“Y/N…” Spencer’s voice faltered, his lower lip trembling as he drew in a shaky breath. “Three months ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. You tried to tell me how you were feeling, but I—” His words broke off, and he swallowed hard, eyes lowering as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

Y/N instinctively reached for his hands, unable to stop herself, her heart aching at the sight of his pain.

“I never meant a word of what I said that night. I swear I didn’t. I just— I lashed out, Y/N,” Spencer confessed, his voice breaking under the weight of his words. “I was scared. I sabotaged myself. I let the anger take over, convinced that Cat had finally won—that she’d ruined everything by taking away the one thing I couldn’t live without… you.”

Spencer’s tears flowed freely now, his face streaked with grief. He gripped her hands as though they were his last lifeline, afraid that if he loosened his hold, he'd flatline right there on her couch.

"But this is the one thing I can't blame on her… Despite everything she’s done, I was the one that pushed you away. I had convinced myself that once I came home and you learned what I had to do to survive, you’d be disgusted by me… that you’d hate who I’d become. So I shut you out, thinking it would spare me from that. But regardless of everything, you were still there—supportive, patient, loving... And I just... I was such an asshole."

Spencer clenched his eyes shut, his throat tightening as he struggled to pull himself together.

"I was so wrapped up in my own fears, convinced of something that wasn’t even real, that I ended up making it happen. When you tried to talk to me that night, I was sure you were trying to end things, so I panicked and ended everything like an absolute idiot. I didn’t give you a chance to explain. I should’ve just listened."

Y/N’s eyes widened, a small gasp slipping from her lips as he moved from his spot beside her on the couch to sink to the ground in front of her. He let go of her hands, gripping her hips and digging his head into her lap as sobs wracked his body.

"Y/N, please," Spencer's voice cracked, his eyes searching hers with desperation when he looked up. "I know I hurt you, and I can’t undo that. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for it… and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it, but I can’t live without you. Please... take me back. I'll do whatever it takes. I need you more than anything. You’re my everything." His words were a soft, broken whisper, and his eyes filled with tears as he looked up at her, hoping for a chance to make things right.

Y/N felt her heart break all over again as she looked down at Spencer, her trembling hands coming up to cradle his face as she exhaled deeply.

Even though the pain from everything that had happened still gnawed at her, his explanation dulled some of the grief and filled in the gaps of her confusion. Over the three months apart, she hadn’t come to hate him as she’d feared. In fact, it was the opposite—being without him had only made her love him more. Now that she knew the emptiness of life without him, she couldn’t imagine a future for herself that he wasn’t a part of.

"Spencer… I never stopped being yours," Y/N whispered, her thumb brushing away his tears. "I’m still hurt, but I can’t picture my life without you. You’re my heart, my forever... Nothing will change that. So, if you're willing to put in the work to fix your mistake, then I'm willing to give us another chance."

Spencer looked up at her, his heart racing with a mixture of relief and disbelief that she wasn't turning him away, but giving him the chance to return. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I’m so, so thankful for you, Y/N. I love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know." He sniffled, his breath shaky as he gently pressed a kiss to her wrist.

Y/N smiled wistfully, letting out a soft, watery laugh as she felt his lips on her skin. "Come here, Spence," she whispered, gently pulling him up to meet her before pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

The moment their lips met again, after months of separation, a spark ignited between them, breathing life back into their souls as they lost themselves in each other. Within seconds, their kiss shifted from gentle and heartfelt to intense and all-consuming. Every emotion they'd felt while apart transferred between them through the brushing of their tongues, translating into action as their hands began to roam.

A simultaneous moan filled the air between them, fueling Spencer as he broke the kiss to stand from his awkward positioning on the floor to lift Y/N into his arms in a surprising show of strength. She squealed, wrapping her legs around his waist as he began to carry her down the hall toward her bedroom. With an impatient shove of his foot, the door opened, allowing them to stumble into her dimly lit room in a fit of breathless giggles.

The storm howled outside, lightning slashing through the darkness, briefly lighting the room with each strike as Spencer laid her across the middle of her bed, pressing a passionate kiss to her lips once more.

“How did—“ Spencer’s lips left hers to trail down her jaw. “I ever—“ A soft moan fell from her as his lips made their way to the crook of her neck. “Think I could live without this?” A sharp gasp escaped into the night air as he sucked a possessive mark into her skin.

Satisfied with the bruise blossoming across her skin, his mouth dragged upwards back to hers. “There isn’t… a single lifetime… or universe… where every atom in my body…. wouldn’t be irresistibly drawn to you,” He murmured reverently between kisses, pressing her further into the bed as he hovered above her. A moan rumbled in his chest as her fingers tangled into his damp hair, her mouth moving frantically against his.

“Spencer—“ Y/N whimpered, breaking the kiss and arching into his touch as his hips rolled against hers. “I need you—“

"I know, sweetheart. I know," he whispered softly. "But I've got so much time to make up for. I'm going to take it slow, and I'm going to show you how much you truly mean to me."

Spencer slithered down her body, kneeling on the ground and pulling her toward the edge of the bed until her legs dangled over the side, pressing a kiss to each of her knees as he settled between them. “Going to worship you the way you deserve,” He breathed, his fingers finding the drawstring of her pajama pants and untying them slowly as he kept his eyes on hers.

Y/N sat up on her elbows, her breath hitched as he dragged the fabric off of her body. Hot, open-mouthed kisses peppered up and down the inside of her thighs as soon as the pants hit the ground, his fingers tracing up her goose-bumped skin until they found the edge of her panties. He leaned forward, unable to hold himself back any longer as he dragged them down her body with his teeth.

A shiver ran down her spine as he trailed his lips up her leg, the anticipation heightening her sensitivity. Before she could beg for him to just get on with it, his mouth latched onto her clit, lapping furiously at her arousal.

“Oh— fuck!” Y/N cried out, her hands shooting out to thread through his hair as he began to devour her.

Spencer groaned against her skin, his hands gripping her hips so tightly she was sure there would be small, fingerprint shaped bruises the next day. His eyes were squeezed shut, a look of pure ecstasy on his face while he buried his face in her folds. He lapped at her as though she herself were an aphrodisiac, dizzying and potent and all consuming in a way that left him helpless to her effect on him.

Y/N writhed underneath him as he pulled her into him, soft noises slipping unabashedly from her lips as pleasure seared through her.

He released one of her hips to bring his fingers up to her entrance. Slowly, he slipped his middle finger into her warmth, his tongue flicking against her clit in tandem as he began to thrust the digit into her. He soon followed it with his ring finger, curling them in the way he knew would have her shaking against him.

“God— I missed this. Missed you,” Spencer groaned, turning his head to nip at her thigh as he panted against her skin. His fingers thrusted harder, repeatedly brushing her G-spot as she cried out for him. “Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl? Hm?”

Y/N whined, nodding frantically as her grip tightened in his hair. “I’m... please, I’m so close—“ she panted, a guttural moan wrenching its way from her throat as he returned his mouth to her clit.

That’s all it took to push her over the edge. As she crumbled beneath him, a thunderclap reverberated through the walls, its timing almost poetic in its synchronization with her climax. Her thighs clamped around his head as her hips bucked into his touch, trembling as he worked her through it.

“That’s it, honey. Fuck, you’re divine—“ Spencer cooed, hovering above her again as his lips pressed to her forehead. “I need to be inside of you. Need to feel you. Please, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s chest was heaving as she panted, still reeling from the first orgasm she’d had in months. Dazedly, she nodded, looping her arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. “Please, Spence. Need you so bad, baby—“

Spencer whined, breaking away from her to hurriedly lift her shirt over her head. The sight of her, bare and flushed from her orgasm, had an almost feral wave of arousal crashing over him. Before him lied the woman he loved with every fiber of his being, trusting him with her heart again despite the pain he'd caused her before. This time, though, he was determined to protect it— to show her, day after day, just how deeply he loved her, ensuring she'd never feel forgotten or neglected again.

He stripped away his own layers, trembling with anticipation as he crawled over her. Y/N shifted, her thighs parting to make room for him between them as she laid back against her pillows. The tension in the air was palpable as he braced his arms on either side of her head, lowering himself so their chests brushed together.

"I love you, Y/N. More than words can ever say," Spencer murmured, resting his forehead against hers as he lined up his aching cock at her entrance. "You are the reason I breathe, the reason I wake up each day. You’re my saving grace, my redemption… I love you."

Y/N’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she cradled his face, their noses brushing in a soft, intimate touch. "I love you, Spencer,” she whispered, her voice thick with raw emotion. “Every version of you. Always and forever.”

Their mouths dropped open into a silent moan as he slowly began to ease into her, inch by inch as Y/N re-adjusted to the stretch of him. Spencer's eyes fluttered shut at the overwhelming sensation of finally being inside of her again after so long, inhaling sharply through his nose as he bottomed out. Her nails dug into his shoulder, the sting only heightening the intense pleasure coursing through him.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," He moaned brokenly, hissing as she wrapped her legs around his waist. "So, so perfect for me."

Y/N whimpered, wriggling her hips in a silent plea for him to start moving. Her head tipped back into the pillow at his first thrust, a soft gasp falling from her lips as he repeated the motion. Her hands left his shoulders, finding purchase in his hair as she pulled his mouth to hers once more as he found a steady rhythm.

Spencer moaned into her mouth, rocking into her with short, hard thrusts. Tears slipped down Spencer’s face, falling softly onto her cheeks as he held her close. He couldn’t contain the overwhelming rush of emotion, savoring the warmth of having the love of his life back in his arms. He never thought he'd feel this again, and he couldn’t be more grateful as he pulled back to stare at the woman beneath him.

Tears streamed down her face as she gazed up at him, her eyes full of reverence. The silent mix of their tears spoke volumes, each drop a reflection of everything they had been through and everything they were now.

Y/N's nails dragged down his back as his hips began to pound into hers, the bed creaking with each sharp thrust he delivered. Spencer was murmuring into the crook of her neck now, needy moans slipping free between the soft praise he rained down upon her as she cried out for him.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart. My sweet girl. I love you," he crooned into her skin, panting as he neared his climax. "Love how you feel for me. So fucking wet. So tight."

Their moans mingled together as he shifted above her, resting his weight on one arm as the other pressed her knee toward her chest. The change in angle drove him straight into her G-spot, causing her to cry out his name as he drilled into her.

"You're everything I could ever need. You have every part of my soul, all of it. I'm yours—completely and utterly yours."

Spencer's words triggered her second orgasm, her walls clenching around him as she sobbed her release. He groaned loudly, the feeling of her cumming around his cock sending him hurtling off the edge as he sank as deeply as he could inside of her, giving her everything he had.

His hips rolled into hers gently as they came down from their highs until they were both whimpering from the oversensitivity, finally slowing to a stop as he collapsed on top of her. His lips softly pressed against her skin, a flurry of kisses landing on her face and shoulder. She laughed, trying to wiggle away from him, pushing him gently as she playfully squirmed beneath his affection.

As they cleaned up, tender kisses and gentle words passed between them, the heavy burden of the past few months slowly lifting. In the stillness, a quiet peace settled between them, a mutual understanding that no matter what came next, everything would be okay because they had each other once more. They crawled back into her bed, cuddling together as they listened to the storm start to die down.

"So… I can ask Emily for some time off next week, and we can get you moved back in?" Spencer suggested, his fingers lightly tracing up and down her back as they lay together.

Y/N tilted her head, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth as she looked up at him. "You do realize I’ve still got three months left on this lease, right?"

Spencer waved his hand, a hint of urgency in his voice as he shook his head. “I’ll cover the rest of it. Then you can break the lease, Y/N. Just come home, please.”

Her heart warmed at the depth of sincerity in his voice, knowing he meant every word. Sighing softly, she gave in, nodding as she nestled closer to him, feeling the exhaustion slowly take over. They exchanged quiet, tender kisses and murmured goodnights, and soon Spencer’s breathing slowed, signaling he was asleep. Once she was sure he was resting peacefully, she carefully pulled back just enough to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering for a brief moment before she whispered into the stillness of the room.

“You are my home.”

Continued A/N's: I think this was quite honestly one of my favorite fics I've written so far. I love love love some angst turned happy ending and I LOVE a man begging on his knees 🙂‍↕️ Again, thank you so very much to the anon who requested this!! I have two more requests lined up after this that I can't wait to get written and posted. :) <3 K

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[thedemoninme141]

The Maiden Of Death PART 1.

Summary: They say opposites attract. But you? You weren’t her opposite. You were worse.

Part 1 -- Part 2-- Part 3- Part 4--Part 5

A/n: This is a new series, I actually had part 1 written like a month ago, But I didn't post it back then mainly because I won't write part 2 until I finish Her Heartbeat. I also am not really sure if you guys would like it, because its a bit dark. But I hope you do.

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader. Warnings: Violence at the end but you guys would be satisfied by it lol.

She met you in fencing class.

As Wednesday was walking through the hallways of Nevermore, on her way to the fencing class, she couldn't help but question herself, why had she returned?

Sure, she had defeated Crackstone. Tyler was locked away, the Gates family’s legacy was ash. Yet, despite her apparent victory over the forces conspiring against Nevermore, Wednesday couldn’t shake the hollow feeling of anticlimax.

So why?

Perhaps it was the faint pull of unfinished business. The photos of a shadowy stalker she’d received at the end of her first year were an unsolved loose end, but even those now felt underwhelming. Whoever it was hadn’t made a move worth her attention in months.

Or maybe she was here because it gave her the chance to humiliate Bianca this time. That thought warmed her more than she cared to admit. Bianca had always been the most formidable opponent in fencing, her skill matched only by her infuriating arrogance. Wednesday lived for that. She would never say it aloud, but Bianca was the only opponent worth her time.

As she entered the fencing room, the chatter of students died down. The tension in the room was immediate, Wednesday didn’t need to look to know that all eyes were on her. She had always been the odd one in this class, the only one to don a fencing uniform as black as her soul while everyone wore the casual white.

But something was different today. She caught sight of a figure seated casually in one of the chairs lining the hall but the reason her eyes found this one so fast because they dressed entirely in black fencing gear, just like her. Their mask and helmet obscured any hint of identity.

For as long as she had fenced at Nevermore, she had been the only one to wear black. This was an intrusion.

Her gaze shifted to Bianca, and for the first time, Wednesday noticed blood dripping from the other girl’s left hand. It was a small, angry trickle, barely enough to warrant alarm, but the sheer fact of it was startling. Bianca never bled. Not in fencing. Her form was too precise, her reactions too swift.

“Wait, that’s not Wednesday?” Kent was the one to speak out.

The rest of the students murmured, their gazes bouncing between her and the stranger. Even the coach was a bit confused.

Wednesday’s curiosity deepened but she said nothing.

Her dark eyes flicked back to Bianca. The siren’s usual air of superiority was gone, replaced by something raw and bitter. Humiliation.

Bianca Barclay had been beaten, and beaten badly, by... whoever this was.

“Barclay,” The coach said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “Infirmary. Now.”

Bianca huffed, her glare locked on the figure in black. If looks could kill, the stranger would have been reduced to ashes. But they remained unmoved, offering no reaction.

As Bianca passed Wednesday, she slowed, her lip curling in disdain. “Not one word,” she muttered, low enough that only Wednesday could hear.

Wednesday tilted her head, her tone as cool as ever. “Careful, Barclay. Your blood loss is showing.”

Bianca huffed but she said nothing, stalking out of the hall with as much dignity as she could muster.

Wednesday’s lips curved in the faintest of smirks. Whoever this person was, they had achieved something remarkable. The idea that someone could dismantle Bianca so thoroughly sparked a flicker of excitement deep in Wednesday’s chest, a sensation she quickly quashed.

The possibility of being bested was not one she entertained lightly, but the idea of such a challenge thrilled her in a way she couldn’t deny. It was rare to find someone who could match her ruthlessness, let alone surpass it.

Her gaze returned to the masked figure. They hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even acknowledged the chaos they’d caused. They simply sat there, busy in their own world.

She took a step forward, “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade.

The figure didn’t respond. Their silence was deliberate, unyielding.

Wednesday’s lips quirked into something resembling a smile, dark, challenging, hungry. “If you’re going to steal my aesthetic, the least you can do is prove you’re worthy of it.”

A murmur swept through the room. Someone let out a low whistle, and the coach frowned, clearly torn between maintaining order and allowing the drama to unfold.

“Addams, this is not the time for theatrics,” the coach started, but Wednesday silenced her with a raised hand.

“It’s not theatrics. It’s a challenge,” she said, her dark eyes fixed on the seated figure. “Unless you’re too afraid to accept.”

For a moment, the figure remained motionless. Then, slowly, they stood. The black fencing uniform clung to their frame, and the mask’s darkened mesh remained inscrutable. They stepped onto the fencing strip—silent, measured, and deliberate and Wednesday adjusted her fencing mask.

The room collectively held its breath.

The coach sighed, knowing full well he can't stop Wednesday.

“En garde.” he yelled.

With her perfect stance and razor-sharp mind, Wednesday raised her blade. A precision tool she had used innumerable times, the weight of her foil in her hand was reassuring. The other fencer, whose mask concealed any emotion, mirrored her movements with eerie grace across from her.

“Prêts,” the coach said.

Wednesday’s focus narrowed. Her heart beat steadily. She would rule. She did it every time.

“Allez.”

The duel began. Wednesday moved first, her blade darting forward in a testing thrust. Her opponent’s response was immediate, a deflection so swift it was almost imperceptible.

Wednesday pressed forward, her footwork precise and aggressive. She lunged again, trying to draw her opponent into a mistake. But the figure in black sidestepped, their movements fluid and economical. They struck back, their blade skimming past her guard with alarming speed. Wednesday barely parried and dodged in time.

A flurry of attacks and counters. Wednesday’s strikes were measured, calculated to exploit any opening. Yet her opponent offered none. It was as if they were reading her mind, anticipating her every move.

Her frustration grew, simmering beneath her stoic exterior. She was Wednesday Addams. She did not lose.

Then it happened. In a single, breathtaking motion, her opponent disengaged, their blade whipping around her guard to land a clean hit on her shoulder.

The coach’s voice rang out. “Point. 1-0.”

The room exhaled collectively. Wednesday’s grip on her épée tightened. Her eyes narrowed behind the mask. She had underestimated them. That was a mistake she wouldn’t make again.

They reset. The coach’s whistle blew. “Allez!”

This time, Wednesday took a defensive stance, watching her opponent closely. Their movements were fast, almost inhumanly so, but there was no sound—no labored breathing, no huffs of exertion. It was as though they weren’t human at all but a ghost sent to haunt her.

Their blade darted forward in the blink of an eye. Wednesday countered, attempting to draw them into a trap. But they saw through it, disengaging and circling to her left. She pivoted, parrying a thrust aimed at her torso, but their follow-up was too quick. The tip of their blade grazed her arm.

The coach’s voice rang out again. “Point. 2-0.”

Wednesday’s jaw clenched beneath the mask. The students murmured, the shock evident in their voices. Anger flared in her chest, hot and unwelcome. She was not accustomed to being outmatched like this.

The next round began. Wednesday forced herself to focus, she studied their movements, searching for a pattern, a weakness. Their strikes were precise, but even precision had its rhythm.

Then she saw it—a slight hesitation in their retreat, a fraction of a second where their weight shifted too far back. It was enough.

When they lunged, she was ready. She sidestepped, her blade sweeping upward in a controlled arc. The tip struck their shoulder.

"Point 2-1" The coach whistled.

For the first time, her opponent faltered. It was subtle, a small hesitation as they reset, but Wednesday caught it. The way they froze for a heartbeat, their head tilting slightly as if registering the touch, was fascinating. She couldn’t see their face, but she imagined what might lie beneath the mask. Surprise? Annoyance?

She allowed herself the faintest of smirks.

But the pause was brief. The stranger reset, their stance as flawless as ever. Wednesday narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on her foil. If they can get hit, she can win. She just needs to be patient.

The whistle sounded again, and they moved.

This time, it was a storm. The stranger’s attacks came faster, sharper, each strike more relentless than the last. Wednesday parried and countered, her heart pounding in her ears as she tried to keep up. They weren't getting tired, and Wednesday for a fact understood, this was must be because one of their powers, Was it fair? No. But it was... maybe a lit... amusing.

For every move she anticipated, they had another waiting in line.

She refused to give ground, but her endurance was waning. Sweat prickled at the back of her neck, her breaths coming faster despite her efforts to control them. And then, just as she thought she might regain the upper hand, they struck.

The tip of their foil grazed her chest with clinical precision.

“Touché! 3-1."

The class went full silent, except a few gasphs.

Wednesday staggered back a step, her breath caught in her throat. She had lost. And it wasn’t luck or a fluke. It was a deserved victory. This opponent, whoever they were, was better.

Her gaze flicked to the masked figure, who was already lowering their blade, their movements as calm and unbothered as ever. They turned without a word, stepping off the fencing mat as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

Anger bubbled beneath Wednesday’s surface, sharp and unrelenting. Not just at her opponent, but at herself. She had lost, just as Bianca had.

But unlike Bianca, she wouldn’t accept it.

“Wait,” she said, the stranger paused mid-step but didn’t turn.

“I’m not finished.”

Taking off her gloves, Wednesday ripped off her mask, letting it drop to the floor with a loud clang. Her pale face, flushed faintly from exertion “One more match,” she said, “No helmets. No gloves. First blood.”

The figure paused mid-step. Slowly, they turned back to face her. The room held its collective breath as they reached up, removing their gloves with deliberate precision. Then, they raised their hands to their helmet and pulled it off.

Wednesday froze.

A cascade of hair fell free, framing a face that froze Wednesday in place. Deep blue eyes met hers, piercing and unreadable.

A girl.

For the first time in years, Wednesday Addams felt something foreign and unfamiliar. Her mind stumbled over itself, her usual composure shattered. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She could only stare. The sharp lines of the girl’s face, the way her eyes seemed to see straight through her.

The girl’s expression was unreadable, her silence almost oppressive. Her gaze was sharp, piercing, but there was no mockery in it, no trace of satisfaction. It was as though the outcome of their first match had been irrelevant to her.

That infuriated Wednesday more than the loss itself.

The coach hesitated before stepping back and raising his hand. His voice wavered slightly as he called out, “En garde.”

Her grip of her foil tightened as she drew her focus inward, forcing her breathing to steady. She couldn’t allow herself to think of the humiliation, This was about proving a point- to herself and to the girl who had dared to take her victory so effortlessly.

“Allez!”

The match began with a lunge from Wednesday, her blade aiming for the girl’s shoulder. It was a calculated strike, meant to gauge her opponent’s reaction. As before, the girl deflected with an unnerving ease, her blade redirecting Wednesday’s attack in a single fluid motion.

Wednesday pressed forward, her strikes coming faster, sharper, each one aimed to corner the girl into a defensive position. But her opponent was quick, impossibly quick, slipping out of reach with minimal effort.

Wednesday felt her frustration mount with each failed strike. No matter how precisely she aimed, the girl always seemed a step ahead.

Wednesday pushed harder, her movements growing more aggressive. She feinted left, aiming for the girl’s left hand, of course her attack was parried... but barely this time.

For the first time, her defense seemed less impenetrable. Wednesday seized the opening, striking with renewed vigor. But right then, Wednesday’s eyes locked on the girl’s, her heart skipping a beat. They were… haunting. Deep, unfathomable, and completely devoid of emotion.

And then, the girl did something that froze Wednesday mid-movement.

She shifted her stance; a slight adjustment to her footing, the angle of her blade. But as the girl moved, it became clear that this was something entirely different. Her grip on the foil changed, her movements adopting a fluidity that was both unfamiliar and unnerving.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. The stance was unusual, almost ceremonial in its precision. And then it clicked.

It was the stance of a katana.

The realization sent a chill down Wednesday’s spine. She had studied fencing extensively, priding herself on her knowledge of techniques from all over the world. But this was something else, something that Wednesday isn't an expert on...

The girl moved, and Wednesday barely had time to react. Her strikes came in sweeping arcs, each one faster and more unpredictable than the last. The blade seemed to dance, its movements impossible to predict.

Wednesday’s defense faltered under the onslaught. She parried desperately, her mind racing to adapt to this new style. But the girl’s attacks were relentless, her blade slipping past Wednesday’s defenses with alarming frequency.

For the first time, Wednesday felt out of her depth.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t let this girl overwhelm her—not again. She lunged, aiming for a weak point in the girl’s defense, but her blade was deflected with a force that nearly knocked it from her hand.

The girl countered with a strike so precise, so swift, that Wednesday barely dodged in time.... or did she?

Because the girl had stopped.

It wasn’t a retreat or a hesitation. She simply froze, her blade lowering slightly as though she had no reason to continue.

Wednesday frowned, her gaze dropping to her arm. Her stomach dropped. A thin line of red traced its way down her pale skin, a tiny drop of blood beginning to bead at its edge.

First blood.

Wednesday’s foil slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor as the weight of her loss settled over her. She stared at the girl, her mind struggling to process what had just happened.

She had lost. Again.

The girl stepped back, her expression unchanged. There was no emotion in her eyes, no trace of satisfaction or smugness. It was as though the match had meant nothing to her, as though Wednesday had been just another opponent to dispatch.

Wednesday’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. The loss was infuriating, yes, but it was the girl’s indifference that stung the most. She didn’t care. She hadn’t even been challenged.

The girl bent to retrieve her helmet and gloves. She turned without a word, walking toward the exit as though the match had never happened.

Wednesday watched her go, her emotions a tangled mess of anger, humiliation, and something she couldn’t quite name. She had been defeated before by Bianca, but not like this. Not by someone who had reduced her to irrelevance with so ease.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to see Bianca, her left hand freshly bandaged. Bianca stopped a few feet away, crossing her arms over her chest as if she wasn’t sure how to start.

“Now you get it?” Bianca muttered, crossing her arms.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, “Get what?”

Bianca exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Why I lost.”

Wednesday remained silent, waiting for Bianca to elaborate.

“When she showed up in the black gear, I thought it was you.” She raised her bandaged hand, her irritation palpable. “So, naturally, I challenged her. Gloves off. I wanted to prove a point to you..."

“And yet here you are,” Wednesday noted, “Unproven.”

Bianca’s jaw tightened, but she pushed past the jab. “She’s not like anyone else. The way she fights? It’s... unsettling.” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “She doesn’t fence. Not really. She reads you, adapts, and then it’s like she’s a step ahead of you the whole time. You can’t even throw her off. I tried."

“And failed.” Wednesday said flatly.

"So did you. But at least you got a point against her." With that, Bianca turned and walked away.

Wednesday remained where she was, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts.

Why did it feel like she was everywhere and nowhere at once?

She exhaled sharply, spinning on her heel and leaving the gym.

By the time she reached quad for lunch, the words had already outrun her. As she stepped inside, the chatter shifted noticeably, students stealing glances at her as though they couldn’t believe the day’s events.

And then there was Enid.

The werewolf practically launched herself at Wednesday, her vibrant energy an unwelcome assault.

“Wednesday! Oh my gosh, is it true? Did you actually.......lose?"

Wednesday gave Enid her death glare... which Enid is immune to, unfortunately.

“Everyone’s talking about it. Apparently, you got your butt kicked by the new girl in, like, the most epic way possible! Like, who even is this girl? And why is she just as dark and scary as you?”

“I am not discussing this.” The glare deepened.

“Okay, okay,” Enid said, holding up her hands. “But seriously, who is she? And why are you so.... intense about this?”

“I am not intense,” Wednesday said curtly.

“Come on, are you jealous? Or just annoyed that someone might actually be better than you?” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Or… is it something else?”

Wednesday’s turned slowly, fixing Enid with a look that could have withered flowers. “Your penchant for meddling will get you killed one day.”

Enid smirked, unfazed. “Uh-huh. So, jealous and annoyed. Got it.”

Before Wednesday could retort, her gaze shifted to the far end of the dining hall.

There she was, sitting alone at a table. She had chosen a seat far from the crowd, her posture calm and unbothered, as though the buzz around her didn’t exist. The students nearest to her stole glances at her, some murmuring, and some looking at her like she was a ticking time bomb.

“You should go talk to her,” Enid whispered, leaning closer.

Wednesday tore her gaze away, fixing Enid with an incredulous look. “And say what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. How do goths befriend each other?” Enid said earning another death glare. “Besides, you two have the same energy; dark and brooding. You’re practically soulmates.”

“Ridiculous,” Wednesday muttered. But her eyes betrayed her, flicking back to the girl. She was so still, so utterly composed, it was unnerving.

Before Wednesday could decide whether to act, the girl stood, collecting her tray and leaving the hall without so much as a glance toward anyone.

She found out your name in alchemy class.

Alchemy was Wednesday’s next class, and she had hoped it would provide a distraction, But as she sat at her desk, her mind kept going back to that girl... and as she began the delicate work of combining reagents, She glanced at the door, almost involuntarily, as though expecting something... and she wasn't disappointed.

The room fell silent. Every student turned to look as the girl walked in, unhurried and unbothered. Her expression betrayed no hint of apology, no trace of acknowledgment for the disruption. She simply stepped inside as though she owned the space.

The professor sighed, “Well, if it isn’t our newest addition. Everyone, this is Y/N.” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “Y/N, I’d ask why you’re late, but something tells me you wouldn’t tell me anyway.”

You said nothing, offering only a blank stare before scanning the room. The only empty seat was beside Wednesday. Without hesitation, you walked over and sat down.

Wednesday stiffened, her focus now completely obliterated. She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, you seemed utterly unbothered by the attention of the room, just as she was at her start here in Nevermore.

The professor resumed his lecture, but Wednesday barely heard a word.

She pretended to focus on the lesson, her pen moving across her notebook. But her eyes betrayed her, darting toward you at every opportunity.

She should have been focused on the experiment, on proving her superiority in yet another intellectual endeavor. But all she could think about was.... those eyes.

Every time Wednesday stole a glance at you, she found herself lingering, her gaze caught by the depth of your stare. There was something unsettling about it, something that gnawed at the edges of her mind. She hated it. And yet, she couldn’t look away.

The rest of the class passed in a haze, when the professor finally dismissed them, Wednesday gathered her things ignoring you. She refused to acknowledge you as you rose and left the room, as silent and unbothered as ever... but she did. As she watched you disappear into the corridor, Wednesday felt a twinge of something she couldn’t name. Curiosity. Frustration. Whatever it was, she was sure she didn't like it.

She first talked to you in the library.

If she could eradicate botany from this school, she would. She despised the assignment. Plants were irritatingly alive, with their need for sunlight and water and their incessant growth. And worse, they were resilient, continuing to thrive no matter how much she wished otherwise. That their existence shared the same planet as hers was one of life's more enduring inconveniences.

But what annoyed her more was giving these green nuisances even a moment of her attention. It was an indignity she had endured only to achieve perfection in her report, which, of course, had been flawless. That's why she had come to the library, she needed a book, Comprehensive Biology.

And there you were.

At the far corner of the library, you stood alone, scanning the shelves.

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed. She hadn’t planned to confront you, but the sight of you, unbothered and aloof, stirred something in her. Frustration? No, she refused to acknowledge such a trivial emotion. It was something deeper. A need to understand. To assert control.

She approached quietly, her hands clasped behind her back as she stopped a few feet away. For a moment, she simply observed. You were searching for something, your eyes moving methodically over the spines of the books.

“Lost?” she asked finally, her tone sharp and cutting. Her voice broke the silence like a blade slicing through cloth. “Or have you simply forgotten how to read?”

You turned your head slowly, your expression unreadable as you looked at her. For a moment, there was nothing, no reaction, no flicker of recognition. Then you tilted your head slightly, the faintest hint of curiosity in your eyes.

“Who are you again?” you asked, your voice devoid of malice but also of any warmth.

The question hit Wednesday like a slap. Her expression didn’t falter, but inside, a slow burn began to rise. Who are you again? The words echoed in her mind, each one twisting the knife of insult deeper.

“Who am I?” she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief and irritation. She stepped closer, her dark gaze locked onto yours. “I’m the person you defeated. Twice. Today. The one you sat beside in class today. Or has your memory been as unimpressive as your personality?”

You blinked, unperturbed, and returned your gaze to the books. “Oh,” you said simply, as if the information had already slipped from your mind. “Right.”

The dismissiveness of your voice made Wednesday’s jaw tighten. Most people crumbled under her sharp tongue or recoiled from her glare. You, however, seemed utterly immune

“You’re remarkably unbothered for someone with so little reason to be,” Wednesday said, her voice icy.

You pulled a book from the shelf. “And you’re remarkably persistent for someone who lost.”

Wednesday’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. The audacity. The nerve. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to strangle you or applaud your ability to get under her skin.

“I don’t lose,” she said firmly.

You finally turned to face her fully, the book resting in your hands. “Then what do you call what happened earlier?”

Wednesday’s glare could have melted stone. “An anomaly. One that will not be repeated.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression still maddeningly neutral. “If you say so.”

Most people would have shifted under her gaze by now, stumbled over their words, or tried to appease her. You did none of those things. Instead, you opened the book, flipping through its pages showing your complete disinterest in the conversation.

“Why are you here?” she asked finally, her voice quieter but no less pointed.

“Looking for a book,” you replied simply, your tone making it clear that the answer should have been obvious.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “And what, pray tell, is so fascinating that it brought you to the library instead of, say, gloating over your victory?”

You closed the book, sliding it back onto the shelf with the same quiet precision that marked everything you did. “I don’t gloat. Victory isn’t worth much if it’s expected.”

The words struck a chord.

“You’re insufferable,” she said finally, her voice a low growl.

You tilted your head again, considering her words. “So I’ve been told.”

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What type of outcast are you?”

No reply.

Her irritation spiked. “What’s your power? You must have one, unless the administration suddenly decided to admit normies."

Still no reply.

Wednesday huffed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Ignoring me is ill-advised. I’ve been known to make people regret it.”

You pulled a book off the shelf, inspected it briefly, and then replaced it with a calm that bordered on infuriating.

Wednesday stepped closer, her boots silent on the carpet. “I asked you a question.”

Without a word or any visible motion, a glint of metal appeared in your hand. A knife, sleek and deadly, materialized out of nowhere. Wednesday froze, her body tensing as her hand instinctively moved toward her own hidden knife. But she stopped short when you spun the weapon in your fingers with fluid ease, offering her the handle.

Her eyes narrowed, suspicious and calculating. She didn’t take it immediately, instead scrutinizing both you and the blade. After a moment’s hesitation, Wednesday stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours as she took the knife.

It wasn’t an ordinary knife; it was a parrying dagger, the kind designed to trap and break an opponent’s blade... and it looked old, centuries old.

“Conjuring weapons,” she said slowly, her tone even but laced with curiosity. “Is that your ability?”

"Something like that." you answered.

Before she could probe further, you let out a quiet sigh, your gaze drifting back to the shelves. It seemed you still hadn’t found what you were looking for. As you stepped away from the shelf and headed toward the exit, Wednesday tried to stop you. She held out the parrying dagger, “Here. Take it back.”

"Keep it." You said simply without even glancing back, leaving Wednesday standing alone in the dimly lit library, the dagger still in her hand. She slid it into her pocket, her mind already plotting how she would uncover the truth about you. She didn’t just let things go. And she certainly wasn’t about to start with you.

She understood a bit more about you during botany.

Breakfast was, at best, tolerable, and at worst, a chore. The only reason she even bothered was the unavoidable biological need to sustain herself.

She surveyed the room with her dark eyes, already calculating the path of least interaction to her usual seat with Enid.

But her gaze froze mid-scan.

You were there.

Sitting at her table.

Sitting in her seat.

And beside you, chattering as though her life depended on it, was Enid Sinclair. Did Enid mistook you as Wednesday?

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed as she stood by the entrance, taking in the scene. How did you end up here? Of all the tables, all the seats in the dining hall, why hers? . You, however, were picking at your breakfast with the same disinterest Wednesday reserved for Enid’s most frivolous stories.

Enid noticed her almost immediately, waving excitedly. “Wednesday! Over here!”

Wednesday suppressed the urge to roll her eyes but failed. She stood rooted for a moment, weighing her options. She could walk away, claim another seat, and avoid the unbearable company of Enid and you. But that would mean admitting, if only to herself, that she was bothered. She was not one to surrender her territory so easily.

With a sigh that carried all the weight of her disdain, Wednesday made her way to the table. When she reached the table, she didn’t ask for her seat back. She was too mature for that.

Enid beamed. “Look who joined us! Isn’t this great?”

“It’s something,” Wednesday muttered, her tone flat as she slid onto the bench across from you.

You didn’t look up from your plate. The lack of acknowledgment was grating, though she couldn’t decide why.

“So,” Enid said, her voice a mix of excitement and curiosity, “Y/N was just telling me, well, okay, not telling, more like I was guessing, that she’s not really into breakfast food. Isn’t that funny? Like, how can anyone not love pancakes?”

Your fork paused mid-air for the briefest of moments before continuing its journey to your mouth. You didn’t respond.

Wednesday, who understood that pointless chattering annoys you as much as her... maybe she could try "The Enid Way"

“Perhaps Y/N finds pancakes as insipid as she finds conversation.”

Enid blinked, clearly unsure whether to laugh or defend herself. “Uh… okay, rude? But honestly, you two could totally bond over being broody and, like, totally impossible to read.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked to you then, a sharp, probing look. “I wouldn’t say impossible. Predictable, perhaps. There’s a certain monotony to Y/N’s silence and I do not find it intriguing at all.”

You glanced up, finally meeting her eyes. There was no irritation in your expression, no spark of retaliation, just an unreadable calm that only served to unnerve her further. “And yet, here you are, commenting on it,” you said evenly before returning to your plate.

It wasn’t the sharpest retort, but the way you delivered it, like an afterthought, as though Wednesday’s presence barely registered, made it sting all the same.

Enid looked between the two of you, her eyes wide with the kind of excitement only she could muster. “Oh my gosh, this is like watching two glaciers collide! I mean, not that you guys are slow or cold or anything. Well, maybe a little cold. Anyway, isn’t this fun?”

“No,” Wednesday and you said at the same time.

Enid burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “See? You’re already bonding!”

Wednesday shot her a look that could curdle milk, but Enid was unfazed.

Eugene was approaching their table but he stopped short when he saw you, his gaze darting between you and Wednesday. His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Uh… are we seeing double, or is this the person who—”

“Finish that sentence, Eugene, and I’ll make sure you regret it,” Wednesday said.

Eugene’s eyes widened as he nodded quickly. “Got it. Not finishing the sentence.” And just as Eugene joined the table, her attention returning to you. You were wiping your hands with a napkin, getting ready to leave. Wednesday can tell, your hate for social interaction, raged more than her's. Perhaps, she can use that against you.

As Enid watched you stand and leave without so much as a goodbye, she sighed dramatically, "You two would make the perfect brooding couple.”

Wednesday shot her a withering look. “Your penchant for romanticizing everything is both exhausting and nauseating.”

Enid just grinned. “Admit it, Wens. You’re curious about her.”

Wednesday didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Because as much as she hated to admit it, Enid was right. You were a mystery, and Wednesday Addams hated unsolved mysteries almost as much as she hated losing.

Wednesday walked into her botany class with her usual measured pace, her eyes scanning the room as she adjusted in her seat. She didn’t expect much from this class... wait... she forgot to pick up her botany book from the library last night because of you...

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with venom. It was only fitting that you had managed to distract her into forgetting something as trivial yet necessary as a textbook. You were becoming a consistent thorn in her side. And speak of the devil,

You entered the greenhouse. Wednesday’s gaze flicked to you for a moment as you made your way to the empty seat beside her. You sat without so much as a glance in her direction.

When the class began, the new teacher, whatever her name was Wednesday doesn't care, droned on about invasive species and their effects on native flora.... just like you invaded her perfectly built world.

You weren’t writing anything down.

Your notebook remained mostly untouched, save for a few idle scribbles. Instead, you stared straight ahead, your gaze fixed on some undefined point, your expression unreadable.

For all your skill in fencing and your mysterious arrival at Nevermore, there was an emptiness in you, that Wednesday can feel now...

You didn’t belong here or maybe you belonged too much, in a way even Wednesday couldn’t define.

She first won against you during lunch....

During lunch, Wednesday sat at her usual table with Enid, who was excitedly recounting the latest gossip she’d overheard from the other werewolves. Her voice was a constant hum in Wednesday’s ear, background noise she had learned to filter out with practice.

Then Enid’s chatter abruptly halted.

“Y/N!”

Wednesday turned her head to see Enid bounding across the dining hall. You stood near the entrance, holding a tray of food with the same level of enthusiasm one might have for poison. Enid grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward their table with a persistence that could only be described as infuriating.

You shot Enid a glare that could have killed a lesser person, but the werewolf had her practice with Wednesday's death glare so she seemed unfazed. As you passed other students, you glanced down at Enid’s hand gripping yours with something bordering on confusion, as though physical contact itself was a foreign concept.

“Come on!” Enid chirped, her cheer undeterred by your visible disdain. “It’s not like it’ll kill you to sit with friends!”

“I wasn’t aware we were friends.” you said flatly.

“Not yet,” Enid said brightly, as if your protest were merely a formality.

Wednesday watched the exchange with a mixture of intrigue and irritation. How did Enid always manage to worm her way into the lives of people who radiated darkness like storm clouds? She had done it with Wednesday herself, and now it seemed you were the next victim.

When you reached the table, you didn’t sit immediately. Instead, you crossed your arms, glaring at Enid with a mix of irritation and reluctance.

“Sit!” Enid chirped, patting the bench beside her.

You exhaled sharply, muttering something under your breath, but eventually slid into the seat, placing your tray down.

Wednesday watched the exchange, her dark eyes narrowing at Enid’s ability to befriend the most unapproachable people. The werewolf had done the same with her. And though Wednesday would never admit it aloud, Enid had wormed her way into a space in her life that she didn’t entirely hate. Wednesday would be lying if she said she doesn't care for Enid at all.

Would Wednesday ever find you in that position? She quickly pushed that thought down the stairs, killing it then dumping the body.

“So,” Enid began, already bubbling with energy, “did you know that Wednesday is like, super into typewriters? It’s kind of adorable, honestly.”

“I’m right here,” Wednesday deadpanned.

“Oh, I know,” Enid said, grinning. “Speaking of which, didn’t you say you ran out of typewriter paper last night?”

“Yes,” Wednesday replied, her tone clipped.

“Well,” Enid continued, “I was thinking of taking Y/N to Weathervane for a tour. She’s new, after all."

You rolled your eyes. “I rejected.”

“Same thing!” Enid said brightly, brushing off your correction." Anyway, I thought, why not kill two birds with one stone? You can come with us and pick up your paper, Wednesday!”

Wednesday smirked faintly. She could tell you hated the idea of being dragged into Enid’s plans. You hated company, just as she did. But that made the opportunity to spite you all the more enticing.

“Fine,” Wednesday said, her tone even. “I’ll come.”

Enid clapped her hands together. “Yay! This is going to be so fun!”

You shot Wednesday a death glare, clearly unamused.

“Oh,” Wednesday added, her voice laced with mock innocence, “perhaps Eugene would like to join us. He loves coffee.”

“Eugene!” Wednesday called the hummer who was in their hummer's table. “Join us for a trip to Weathervane later.”

“Really?” Eugene’s face lit up, and he quickly shuffled over to their table.

You looked between Wednesday and Eugene, your glare sharpening. “This is ridiculous.”

“No,” Wednesday replied, meeting your glare with one of her own. “This is retribution.”

Enid, blissfully unaware of the tension, leaned forward with a grin. “This is going to be the best day ever!”

You didn’t respond, instead stabbing a piece of food on your plate with enough force to make the table tremble.

Wednesday allowed herself a small, victorious smirk. The fencing matches may have been your victories, but this round was hers.

But she hadn't seen the real you... until now.

“She’s late,” Wednesday muttered, already regretting her choice, agreeing to go just to spite you.

“Relax, Wednesday,” Enid said, though the werewolf sounded a little unsure herself. “Y/N doesn’t strike me as the punctual type. Or, you know, the type who tells people things. Like ever.”

Eugene adjusted his glasses. “Do you think she just bailed? Maybe she doesn’t actually want to come. I mean it has been almost half an hour...”

“She’s coming,” Wednesday said with conviction. She didn’t know why she was so certain, but she was.

Finally, you appeared in the distance, walking toward them with a measured, unhurried pace.

You stopped a few feet from the group, your hands shoved into your hoodie’s pockets, and regarded them with your usual, unreadable expression. You didn’t apologize for being late.

“You’re late,” Wednesday said, her tone biting.

You raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Eugene offered an awkward wave. “Uh, hey, Y/N.”

Enid quickly stepped in. “Glad you made it! We’ve been waiting forever, but, like, no big deal or anything.”

You didn’t respond to Enid’s cheerfulness, your gaze briefly flickering to her before shifting elsewhere.

“Well,” Enid said, clapping her hands together, “let’s go! The bus should be there any minute.”

The bus ride to Jericho was quiet, at least between you and Wednesday. Enid filled the silence with her usual chatter, talking about.... everything?

“Have you been to Jericho yet, Y/N?” Enid asked, turning to you with a curious smile.

You shook your head, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the bus window.

“It’s cute,” Enid continued, unfazed by your silence. “Small, but cute. Oh, but you should know, some of the normies there aren’t super friendly to outcasts. So, it’s always good to go with people who’ve got your back, you know?”

At her words, Wednesday saw something flicker in your eyes. It was brief, barely there, but it was enough to catch her attention.

A shadow of acknowledgment, perhaps, as you gave a small nod.

The bus arrived at Jericho and the group hopped down.

Enid led the way, her excitement not affected by your clear preference for distance. You trailed behind, keeping a noticeable gap between yourself and the others.

Eugene tried to bridge the gap a few times, but each attempt was met with silence, and eventually, he gave up.

The group stopped at a small general store first. Enid immediately darted toward the cosmetics aisle, her eyes lighting up as she scanned rows of nail polishes and makeup.

“Y/N, do you need anything?” Enid asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“No,” you replied simply, your voice as flat as ever.

Enid shrugged and continued her search, while Wednesday moved toward the stationery section, searching for her typewriter paper and ink. She found the items quickly enough but lingered, her gaze occasionally drifting toward you.

You stood near the entrance of the store, your hands in your pockets, watching a pair of children playing near the candy section. The boy, no older than six, was laughing as he chased his older sister around, their footsteps light and carefree.

It was subtle, but Wednesday noticed something in the way you observed them. Wednesday noticed something in your eyes, different from your usual detached demeanor. Intrigue? Longing? It was impossible to say.

“What’s so fascinating about them?” Wednesday asked, her voice low as she approached.

You didn’t look at her. “Nothing.”

“That’s doubtful,” she pressed.

You finally turned your head toward her, your expression unreadable. “Who says it’s your business?”

For a moment, Wednesday considered pushing further, but something in your tone warned her off. You weren’t going to share, and she didn’t care enough yet to pry the answer from you.

“Suit yourself,” she muttered, turning back toward the shelves.

When she returned to the checkout counter, you were already standing there, waiting. Wednesday placed her items on the counter, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

You didn’t acknowledge her, your attention fixed on the glass door as though willing the others to hurry up.

“Got everything I need!” Enid chirped, appearing beside them with an armful of brightly colored products. She paid quickly, practically bouncing toward the exit.

“Come on, guys!” Enid called from the doorway, already heading outside.

Wednesday followed, her bag in hand. You moved to the door without a word.

The group had just stepped out of the store, when Wednesday’s sharp eyes caught movement near the counter, on the cashier, his shoulders hunched as five boys loomed over him. They weren’t just grabbing beers from the fridge. One of them yanked a handful of cash from the register

“C’mon, old man, don’t look at us like that,” one of them sneered. “Think of it as…taxes for keeping your store safe.”

The cashier muttered something inaudible, his voice trembling. The boys only laughed, grabbing more bottles and shoving them into their backpacks.

Enid’s cheerful demeanor shifted instantly. She grabbed Wednesday’s arm. “Wednesday…shouldn’t we do something? He needs help.”

Eugene took a step back, looking down at his feet. “I don’t know, Enid. These guys look...trouble. And we’re not even supposed to be here, technically.”

Wednesday frowned. On one hand, this was a normie problem, a petty theft that would resolve itself eventually. On the other hand, there was an undeniable injustice in letting the boys get away with it.

Before she could decide, the boys finished their “business” and left, swaggering out the door with their loot. Enid sighed, clearly disappointed but not wanting to push it further. “Guess we’d better go,” she said, turning to leave.

Wednesday hesitated for a moment but followed Enid and Eugene down the street. However, something nagged at her. A presence. She glanced back, and sure enough, there you were, still standing in the store’s doorway, watching the scene unfold.

“Y/N,” Wednesday called out,

You turned slowly, meeting her gaze with your usual unreadable expression. “I need to buy something.”

Enid frowned, confused. “But you said you didn’t need anything earlier.”

You didn’t respond to her. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked back into the store.

Curiosity piqued, Wednesday followed, with Enid and Eugene trailing behind. From their spot near the door, they watched as you approached the counter and spoke to the shaken cashier in a low, even voice. “I need that, that, and that.” you said, pointing to items behind the counter.

The cashier blinked, visibly confused but too shaken to argue. He retrieved an aluminum baseball bat, a heavy chain, and a pair of black gloves, placing them on the counter.

“What is she even going to do with all that?” Eugene whispered nervously.

You slid the gloves onto your hands, gripping the bat in one arm and coiling the chain loosely in the other. Without a word, you passed them, heading toward the alley where the boys had disappeared moments earlier.

“What is she—” Enid started, but Wednesday cut her off with a raised hand.

“Follow her,” Wednesday said, her voice low and firm.

The three of them trailed after you, keeping their distance until they reached the alley’s edge. Peeking around the corner, they saw the five boys lounging against a brick wall, laughing and drinking from their stolen beers.

When they noticed you, their laughter grew louder. One of them, tall with a cocky grin, stepped forward.

“Hey, little girl,” one of them said, smirking as he stepped forward. “What’s with the bat? You gonna play baseball with us?”

The others laughed.

But you didn’t respond. You simply stared at them, your grip tightening around the bat.

The first boy took another step closer, his smirk widening. “You lost, sweetheart? Or maybe you’re here to—”

CRACK

Wednesday can swear if she blinked she would've missed the swing of the bat as it connected with the boy's temple with a sickening thud, cutting his words short as he crumpled to the ground. The sound echoed through the alley, silencing the laughter instantly.

“What the hell?!” one of the boys shouted, his eyes wide with panic.

Wednesday’s breath hitched, her eyes locked on you as you adjusted your stance. There was no hesitation in your movements, no wasted energy. You were a predator, and they were your prey.

One of them lunged at you, but you sidestepped easily, the chain in your other hand whipped out, coiling around the wrist of the next boy like a serpent. With a sharp tug, you yanked him towards you, and the bat came down again with brutal precision on his head. Another one down.

“Holy crap,” Eugene whispered, clutching at Wednesday’s sleeve. “She’s… she’s gonna kill them!”

“No,” Wednesday murmured, her voice almost reverent. “She’s too precise for that.”

The remaining boys hesitated, their bravado faltering as they realized the odds weren’t in their favor. One of them pulled out a pocketknife, holding it up shakily.

“Stay back,” he warned, his voice betraying his fear.

You tilted your head slightly before the chain lashed out again, latching onto his hand. The knife clattered to the ground as you closed the distance, the bat swinging upward and catching him squarely under the chin. He collapsed in a heap.

You slowly picked up the knife and glared at the last two. With a flick of your wrist, the blade sailed through the air, embedding itself in the leg of one of them. He screamed, collapsing to the ground clutching his thigh.

The final boy tried to run, But you were faster. The chain wrapped around his ankle, sending him sprawling face-first onto the ground. The bat came down once, twice, and he was out.

The boy still screaming because of the knife latched onto his leg begged, “Take it! Take the money! Take the beer! Just don’t—” Your bat silenced him with a single, calculated blow to the side of his head.

Wednesday’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. There was something captivating about the way you moved; calculated, efficient, merciless. Not a single touch landed on you, and yet you left all five of them groaning on the ground.

You crouched down, rummaging through the pockets of the nearest boy. Pulling out a wad of cash, probably way more than what they even stole. You rose and picked up the bag of beers.

As you passed the trio at the end of the alley, Wednesday’s gaze followed you, her smirk still there, she wouldn't hide it because she was, truly, for the first time in her life, impressed.

Wednesday followed you instantly, and the other two followed hesitantly... stopping just inside the doorway as you approached the cashier.

“I’d like to return this bat,” you said, placing it on the counter alongside the cash and the beer.

The cashier stared at you, wide-eyed and speechless.

Without waiting for an answer, you turned and walked out of the store, passing by the trio without so much as a glance.

Wednesday watched as you made your way to the bus stand, and just stood there. The three of them stood there in stunned silence.

Enid was the first to break it. “Okay, I take it back. She’s not just like Wednesday. She’s way scarier.”

Part 2

[A/n: Tried a new route, Didn't really find much fics out there where reader is the one who is more badass , so thought about writing one myself lol, Comment how you guys like this new one]

[turnipoddity]

chainshipping yuri at the bar…

BASED ON ONE OF THE SCENES FROM @finalgirlfrnkiero’s FIC!!

[classypauli]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

MASTERLIST

tara carpenter x fem!reader

summary: Finally, the group project comes to an end, and you won’t have to deal with Tara’s attitude anymore. Only if you knew what was coming, maybe then you would rather pick that crazy Carpenter...

tags: enemies to lovers, they are on it again, y/n got a new admirer, tara almost died, cozy, fluff

word count: 1.5k

You were currently sitting in a cafeteria. Wereses you had some free time before the last class so you agreed to meet there with Tara and continue with your project.

It has been a few weeks since you have been working on it and moved succesfully foward. Both of you were happy it finally moved to it´s end, this was something that was annoying your lives for these last days. Or more like you were annoying to one another.

„Do you think it can be like this?“ You turned your notebook into Tara´s direction. She red the notes and noded her head. „Great, so we just need to make the conclusion.“

You were sitting opposite of each other in one of the back tables. Behind your back was a big window with a sigh to a whole campus.

„Yeah, I think it´s perfect.“ You looked at the girl in front of you. Her bangs got longer, you wonder if she wants to cut it again or let it grow. She was wearing a dress to her knees with a flowers on it. The weather today was pretty good despite the grey clouds above your heads. It looked like it would start raining anytime soon.

Your eyes scanned the room. There wasn´t a lot of people today, everybody was probably studying at home for exams or taking class. You caught eyes of the girl on the other side. She was sitting alone with just book in her hands and caffee by her side. Your eyes met and she smiled at you, which you return.

It was almost time for the exam so you both agreed to do it later in your apartment. As soon as you both stepped outside you could feel the drops of water falling onto your skin. With fast steps you came inside the campus but still with your clothes wet. You looked at Tara and saw how her strands of her were stuck on her forehead from the rain.

You burst out laughing. The girl turned to you with angry eyes. „Stop laughing!“ She pushed you into your chest and you stumbled a little. Tara was holding her phone with the front camera trying to brush her wet hair and clean the mascara that was now on her eyelids.

„I´ve seen you looking worse.“ You said as you adjust the strap on your shoulder.

„You look worse all the time.“

Your mouth hung down as you kept looking at her back as she kept walking away from you into the hallways of the campus. No, you won´t leave it just like this, she will eat it with a winch.

-

You were standing in a aisle of a small shop by the corner of the neighbourhood were you lived. One of your hands was holding a small shopping basket and the other one was holding milk as you were reading the back of it.

The notification of your phone cut you from it as you put the milk back and took your phone to check the text from Ethan. Last time you shared the class you talked about the video games and how you enjoy playing them. After that he asked you if you wanted to play with him some time, which of course you couldn´t decline.

„Are you intolerant?“ Your whole body twinched at the sudden voice you heard behind you. You almost dropped your phone as you were trying to put in back in your pocket. With a quick motion you turned around.

„Oh, I´m sorry I didn´t want to scare you.“ The girls eyes widen with apologizing look in her eyes.

„It´s fine, you just caught me off guard.“ You said to her. She was familiar to you but you couldn´t really remember when did you see her.

She laughed at your words and looked behind you again. „Yeah, I saw that you were deep in the reading the back of the milk.“ The girl teased you a little. „You were trying to find lactose-free milk or something?“

„Uhm yeah.“ No, you didn´t have a reason to read it you just wanted to and it would look dumb if you said that you just wanted to read it. What the fuck would she think?

„Oh then I think you are looking the wrong way, the lactose-free is over there.“ She pointed at the direction of the other side of the shelf.

„Ah! My bad, looks like you know it better than me.“ You rubbed the back of your neck with a nervous smile.

The girl bit the side of her cheek gently looking at the ground and then up to you. „No problem, if you need anything else just tell me, I´ll be glad to help.“ She smiled.

By that smile you already knew who it was, the girl from the cafeteria. Damnit, she really needed to see you now? In your homeless fit for no one’s eyes to see. You were sure nobody would see you so you grabbed whatever was under your touch. Fucking embarassing.

You laughed nervously and thanked her making your way to the direction she was pointing earlier.

You need to buy this milk now you stupid imbecile.

„I recommed you this one.“ She grabbed the milk from the shelf. „It´s probably my favourite.“ This girl can´t rest, can she?

„You seem like you know what you are talking about.“ You said.

„Oh yes! I only drink these types of milks.“

You softly grabbed the milk from her hands and put that in your basket with a embarassing smile on your face.

„Uhm thanks for advice I guess... uhm see you next time?“ You turned around and walked away from the girl. The vibe felt pretty embarassing so you felt urge to just walk away with her eyes still following you.

-

Tara was now again in your room finishing the project. Every time you spend time with the girl you needed to hold yourself on a leash but these past weeks when you were together, just you and her alone you felt like you were doing some kind of patience class.

How many times you held yourself from jumping on her because of the anger or holding the tongue behind your teeths because of some offending shit she said. That little brat didn´t know how to act but you couldn´t change that. Well, not like you tried.

You hummed to her as you brought her glass of water she asked earlier. The girl noded with her head taking the drink from the desk slowly learning back her back against your gaming chair. You sat back on your bed as always continueing with your work.

„I´m so glad we are finally at the end.“ She said with her eyes closed and her head tilt back.

„Yup.“

She looked at your way. „You know, I´m pretty surprised.“ You rised your eyebrows at her. „I mean the first day I was sitting on the floor and look at me now.“ She spin herself around on your chair. „I´m sitting in your spot.“

„So?“

Tara stopped and looked back at you. „I calmed down your agressive ass.“

„Mine agressive ass?“ you asked in disbelive with a high voice. „Last time I check you were like that. I don´t even know how that much of evil can fit into your small ass body.“

„See! I wouldn´t be like that if you weren´t! I was saying something nice and you are you again!“

„Me?! You- Argh!“ this is exactly what she wants from you Y/N... Don´t let her get into your head.

You breathed out the air from you chest and calmed your nerves. Tara smirked at you, in her eyes she won, like every time.

After that both of you were quiet once again and focused on the work. After finishing you went through the whole thing, scanning it and trying to correct the flaws that were left. Your strong focus was cut by Tara´s deep breathing. At first you thought she was just getting frustrated at something she found in her phone but as the seconds were passing by it was worse.

Of course.

You slowly stood up and left your room. You made your way into her bag that was left in the hallway of the apartment. She must have it here. Your hand went into her bag and was trying to find her inhaler. There wasn´t anyway she wouldn´t have it in her bag right? At the end of the day, her health was depent on that little thing.

When you finally found it you brough it to her. Her hand was already on her chest and her eyes were closed, trying to calm herself.

„Here.“ You took her hand that was resting on your chair and put the inhaler into her palm. She looked at the object you handed her and then up at you with her big brown eyes. You huffed and took her hand up to her mouth to use the inhaler.

Finally after when Tara´s breathing was calmed you stepped back and sat on your bed still looking at the brunette.

„Better?“ she noded at your words giving you a small thank you. She looked somehow ashamed of herself, looking into her hands that were resting in her lap. Suddenly her head shot back at you with wide eyes.

„You were digging in my purse?!“

„I just saved your life!“

„I swear to God-“

[vampireimiko]

Adam Warlock Relationship Headcanons !!

warnings, none!!

note, AYEE I LOVE ME SOME ADAM

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Adam is incredibly in tune with his emotions. However, when he meets you first, he’s confused about why he feels so drawn to you.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He doesn’t understand flirting, but he’s unintentionally charming because of his sincerity. When he says something like, "I find your presence… pleasing. It makes my chest feel… warm."—he means it COMPLETELY seriously.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He even took the time to ask Quill of all people to help regulate how he felt about you. Turns out that was a complete disaster for him 💀 Peter teased him relentlessly, telling Adam that he was in fact in love with you. Adam managed to grumble out a, "Thanks." before leaving a laughing Quill behind.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Once he realizes he likes you, he’s all in. He plays no games! He simply looks at you one day and says, "I have determined that I care for you deeply. Will you allow me to court you?" And after that the rest is history 😼

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Adam is very protective of you, although he knows your a formidable fighter he can't stop himself from worrying about you from time to time.

If you’re hurt, even a small scrape, Adam panics. He cradles your hand like it’s the most delicate thing in the universe and dramatically vows, "I will not allow harm to come to you again."

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He is so unintentionally clingy!! He’s always standing way too close, leaning in when you talk, or absentmindedly touching your arm. But you don't mind it one bit. It's nice having a personal sun near you at all times.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° When he kisses you, it’s soft but incredibly focused, like he’s trying to memorize every second of it. If you tease him or make him flustered, he does not know how to handle it. The poor man will just short circuit entirely.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He is so blunt most of the time and he honestly cannot help it😭 If you ask him how you look, expect something like, "You always appear visually pleasing to me. That has not changed." He means well, he swears!!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° If he ever sees someone flirting with you? Oh, he does not get jealous in the conventional way. Instead, he’ll just stare at them, step directly in front of you, and say in the most serious tone, "Your advances are unnecessary. They are already spoken for."

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He does not understand sarcasm. At all. If you say something like, "Oh sure, Adam, let’s totally fight a hundred enemies by ourselves, what a great idea," he’ll just nod seriously and say, "I agree. Though, statistically, our chances of survival are low." That just makes you facepalm and hug the man.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° All in all you love the man and wouldn't change anything about him <33

additional note ! NETTEASE BUFF ADAM PLEASE 💔

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[fluentmoviequoter]

Pretending You Can't

Pairing: Adam Karadec x fem!cop(analyst)!reader

Summary: You're touch starved and wishing to make friends in the LAPD, but you move divisions so often that it becomes difficult. While working with the Major Crimes unit, you find a solution to both problems.

Warnings: depiction of touch starvation, discussion of difficulty making friends, murder case, fluff, comfort, OOC Karadec

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: I love Karadec so much. Hope someone can enjoy this.🫶🏼

“Melon alert,” someone whispers as they rush past you.

You roll your eyes and turn to the next page of your report. Lieutenant Melon is annoying, but he has yet to request your direct assistance. That is one of the few benefits of being quiet and reserved in a Los Angeles Police station. It is, however, far outweighed by the downfalls. You’re lonely, and you want to make friends at work, even though you are quiet. Each time you meet someone you think could be a friend, you get moved to a new desk or a new division and have to start all over. Maybe, you think, I’m just not made to have friends.

You stand and stretch your arms over your head. The report on your desk must be signed by Melon, but he’s busy, so you walk down the hall to stretch your legs and get something from the break room.

“Sorry,” you apologize as your shoulder hits someone backing out of the elevator. It feels like the skin on your shoulder is on fire, and pain like pins and needles travels down your arm. This would have been a good indicator something was wrong if you hadn’t already known you were touch-starved. Shaking your arm, you see the large box in his arms and ask, “Do you need help with that?”

“Please,” he answers.

You slide your hands under the side opposite him, and he lowers it to rest between your chests.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Detective Osman, right?”

He nods and somehow knows your name, too. You look around briefly as he leads you through the door into Major Crimes. This is one area you have not worked in, but you think you’d like it. The people in this division are kind when you see them in the station, and they do good work. Your gaze hits Detective Karadec, and you look away quickly, telling yourself it’s because you need to watch where you’re going.

“It’s too much,” he says, his shoulders moving up in a short shrug as he nods. Something about his body language disarms many people, but every time you see him, you’re drawn in by him.

Lieutenant Soto exits her office, pinching the bridge of her nose. Detective Osman sighs as he looks at her, then thanks you quietly. You smile and nod, then walk toward the door. Before you reach it, Soto calls your name. Turning slowly, you raise your brows and hold your hands against your stomach.

“Yes, ma’am?” you answer.

“You worked in the gang unit last year, correct?” she inquires.

“Yes, but only for a few months in the spring.”

“Are you familiar with the name…” she pauses to look at a sticky note in her hand, then says, “Victor Kwang?”

Nodding, you explain, “I did the paperwork for his arrest warrant, the affidavit, I mean, and some research into his accomplices and manufacturing.”

“Did you find the factory in Westlake?” a woman in a cheetah-print skirt asks.

“Excuse her,” Karadec interjects as he spins his chair to face you. “This is Morgan Gillory.”

You’ve heard about Morgan, or as Melon calls her, the cleaning lady, but if she already found Kwang’s Westlake factory, she’s better than you thought.

“I did,” you tell her. “It wasn’t operational at the time, but it was searched. Turned up practically nothing.”

“Okay,” Morgan drawls slowly. “It’s not in the report.”

Karadec watches how your brows pinch, and your eyes shift like you’re thinking.

“There’s another report,” he guesses.

“I only worked on one.”

He nods once before spinning his chair to use the computer. Opening the report they’re going on, he scrolls to the bottom of the first page to see who completed the report.

“It wasn’t this one,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Detective Daphne Forrester.

She raises her hands and says, “It’s the only one that came up when I typed in Victor Kwang.”

You focus on your memory of completing the report and ask Daphne, “Are most of his arrests for assault?”

“90%,” she replies.

“Wrong Victor Kwang,” you say. “When that case was open, there was a lot of.. discontent, I guess, in Koreatown. The DA said they had every right to be treated exactly the same here as in Korea.”

Karadec scoffs and shakes his head. You agree; it didn’t make sense, but you complied.

“So?” Osman asks.

“His arrest record and the reports from that investigation have his Korean name on it. Kwang Kyu. Surname first, given name, and everything we have on him is in that file.”

Soto raises her brows at Karadec, unseen by you. He looks between you and his lieutenant, then to Morgan.

“Who are you reporting to now?” Soto asks you.

“Lieutenant Melon,” you reply. Quieter, you add, “Technically.”

“I think it’s time for a change,” she muses before returning to her office.

“Did you do this whole report?” Daphne asks, looking up from her computer. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you answer softly. Without Soto as a buffer and the contained topic of police work, you’re unsure how to talk to the detectives you’ve looked up to for so long.

Soto returns from her office and smiles as she instructs, “Pack up. You’re coming to Major Crimes.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Oz asks.

Soto looks away from the door that just closed behind you and levels her gaze on Karadec.

“I think she can help,” he states. “Morgan didn’t catch that the report was for the wrong guy.”

“You didn’t either,” she argues.

“Where does she usually work?” Daphne wonders aloud. “I see her around from time to time, but never in the same place twice.”

“She jumps around,” Soto explains.

“Why?” Oz adds. “Hard to work with? Trying to find where to use a golden ticket?”

“She’s good,” Karadec answers. “She can do close to everything. Chief decided to pass around the talent.”

“And how do you know that?” Soto challenges, her brows raised knowingly.

He looks at her from the corner of his eyes, then shakes his head.

“If Kwang opened a factory in Westlake, he probably did it to get away from the suspicions about what he was doing in Koreatown,” Morgan muses. “His factories form a parallelogram with an overlaid pyramid. When you look at those on a map, they center around one place.”

“Being?” Karadec presses, sounding more tired than he had with you.

She moves closer to the caseboard and examines the map briefly. “Hotel Normandie.”

“Koreatown?” Daphne clarifies.

“Yep. 605 Normandie Avenue.”

“And what is that supposed to tell us?” Karadec sighs.

“I…” Morgan purses her lips to trace her nail along the map.

“You’re missing another shape,” you point out as you return with a small tote bag of your things.

Soto’s eyes widen, and she presses her lips together to hide her smile. You’ve been here for less than five minutes, and you’re providing information Morgan can’t. They all know it’s because of how long you spent studying Victor Kwang, but it’s still interesting to see.

“Hotel Normandie is one of Kwang’s favorite spots. It’s less than thirty minutes from the Hollywood Bowl, Griffith Observatory, LA County Museum of Art, Natural History Museum, and Dodger Stadium. That’s a-“

“Pentagram,” Morgan finishes. “He could get around to all of them and back to the hotel in 2 hours without traffic.”

“Add Forest Lawn,” you add, setting your bag on an empty chair. “And you’ve got a hexagon.”

Karadec stands at the word hexagon, and you wonder what they’re working on.

“DB was called in this morning,” he tells you as he slides his cell phone and a bottle of hand sanitizer into his pocket. “It was found at the corner of Wilshire and Crenshaw. There was a note in the vic’s pocket with the name Victor Kwang written repeatedly. The note was folded into a hexagon.”

“And that intersection is in Kwang’s criminal hexagon,” Morgan adds.

“The victim had his visa,” Daphne says as if she’s reading your mind to answer your questions. “ID’ed him as Chang Shirong. Came in from China four months ago, so he likely would have been traveling back within the next few weeks.”

“Six months. He had a B-1 visa?” you realize incredulously. “What business activities was he conducting?”

“I’ve got that,” Oz interjects, holding an open file. “He had a relatively legitimate clothing business and was negotiating contracts with Lids and Fanatics.”

“How long ago did he get approved for the visa?” Morgan asks.

“Five years ago,” Daphne answers.

You fall silent and listen, happy to stay here and complete their paperwork while they go out in the field and put Kwang back in jail. Provided that he’s found guilty, of course.

“When was Kwang released after the sweatshop factory fiasco?” Karadec asks, though his gaze strays to you.

“Five-and-a-half years ago,” Oz reads. “Could have easily gotten in with Chang to move operations overseas.”

“The Government Accountability Office would’ve had Kwang on a short leash,” Soto states. “If Kwang broke that kind of labor law, he wouldn’t have been able to conduct business of any type, not for a while at least.”

“Not necessarily,” Morgan counters, raising her finger.

“Here we go,” Karadec murmurs, holding his fist against his chin.

“AB633 holds California garment manufacturers responsible for sweatshop conditions. It ensures workers are paid minimum wage and overtime. Because of that, the Labor Commissioner can bring lawsuits on behalf of the whole workforce to guarantee wages and – this is the important part – revoke the registration of the manufacturer that fails to pay a wage award. They up new registration fees, but can't legally keep someone from reopening a business based only on wage crimes.”

“Sounds like you need to look into the sweatshops,” Soto says before telling everyone where to go.

You pull a chair to Daphne’s desk to help her trace Kwang since his release from prison, and she smiles as she whispers, “Teach me your ways.”

You send her a small smile and immediately decide that you want to be friends with Daphne Forrester. The longer you sit beside her and across from Oz, the easier it is to open up and offer your ideas and theories.

“Oz,” Morgan calls as she returns a few hours after leaving. “Karadec needs you to throw a phone book at someone.”

“We still don’t do that,” he replies as he exits the office.

“What are we working on?” Morgan asks as she takes Oz’s chair.

“We found Kwang’s quote ‘professional’ activities since leaving prison,” Daphne explains.

“Any theories?”

“I don’t have any.” Daphne gestures toward you as she adds, “This one has some great ones.”

“Lay ‘em on me,” Morgan requests. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“You must be a very good mom,” you murmur.

“I have a teenager,” she says, “I know the signs of someone not wanting to talk to me. I also notice when someone’s eyes wander to a certain detective.”

“Karadec?!” Daphne exclaims, tapping her hand against your arm and igniting invisible flames beneath your sleeve.

You drop your head and wring your fingers together. “I think Kwang met someone in prison who could set him up with an overseas businessman. Your victim flew in on a visitor’s visa a week before Kwang was released and stayed for nearly two months. If they met then, Chang had a reason to get a business visa and make regular trips to visit his business partner.”

“Any idea who could’ve known both of them?” Morgan wonders.

“That’s where we found the hiccup,” Daphne answers.

You have an idea, but it doesn’t make sense, so you stay quiet. Morgan and Daphne look at you, then at each other. Morgan nods before she stands.

“You’re coming to my house for dinner,” she says. “It wasn’t an invitation or a question, you’re coming. Let’s go.”

Daphne nods and tells you to have a good night, so you follow Morgan out of the station. While you walk into the parking lot, she slows and looks toward you.

“You like Karadec,” she begins. “When you’re not incredibly focused, your eyes stray to him. It happens when you’re not confident in your statements, too.”

“I- he-“ you try before deciding to say, “Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. I notice a lot, and I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Maybe you should try to just talk to him tomorrow, share one of those good ideas you kept to yourself today.”

“I thought that was your job.”

Morgan smiles. “If it gets Karadec to smile, I’ll relinquish my duty to you for a day.”

“Why would that make him smile?”

“You can figure that out, detective.”

Morgan begins walking again, and as she opens her car door, you call, “I’m not a detective!”

The following morning, you enter the station early with a mental list of names and information to look into. Walking into Major Crimes, you’re not entirely surprised to see Karadec already at his desk.

“You’re early,” he muses. “You can use Oz’s desk.”

“Thanks.” You lower into Oz’s seat and use your station login to access the police database.

“Help yourself,” he offers, gesturing to a donut box.

You smile and take one of your favorites. If you had to guess, you never would have assumed that Karadec was the one who brought the donuts every week. Maybe they take turns, you think.

As you work quietly beside Karadec, you run through each idea you have. Each search that fails to provide a helpful result discourages you more than the last.

“Pass me the Kwang file?” Karadec requests.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes the extended file. He thanks you, but you don’t hear it as your nerves alight. You try to hide the pain in your hand as you place it back on the keyboard. Failing to remember the last time you were hugged or even simply touched in a way that lets you know someone cared about you, you force yourself to focus. Your hand curls into a fist as the pain subsides, and then you return to work.

With your focus on the lack of touch you’ve experienced recently, you don’t notice Karadec watching you. He’s known since before you joined their team that there is more to you than people think.

As the rest of Major Crimes begins arriving, you log out and pull a chair to the corner of Daphne’s desk to continue working with her. Karadec tries to focus, but when you are close, he finds it hard to do.

“Good morning,” Morgan greets, sitting beside you. She lowers her voice to remind you, “Talk to Karadec.”

“All of my ideas turned up nothing,” you explain softly.

“And?” Oz asks as he approaches the other side of Daphne’s desk.

“She likes Karadec,” Morgan replies.

Your eyes widen as you look over at her. Daphne stifles a laugh, and Oz shrugs as if that isn’t new information.

“Yeah, yeah,” Morgan murmurs. “Et tu, good report maker. Seriously, tell him something. You have more ideas; I can see it.”

“Any new theories?” Karadec asks, turning his seat to face Daphne’s crowded desk.

“I think the order of the hexagon was wrong,” you blurt out.

“Why would the order matter?” Oz inquires.

Karadec watches you, listening carefully. Morgan smiles and shakes her head knowingly before she winks at Daphne.

“If the route matters, then traffic, travel times, and when the places are actual targets changes.”

“Targets?” Karadec repeats.

“I assumed you were evaluating the places based on their proximity to his former sweatshops,” you explain. “So, he could use them as alibis, to recruit workers, or in this case, to lure Chang into his previous enterprise to undermine Chang’s business.”

“Like a sightseeing tour for bad guys,” Oz translates.

“Alternatively, they were on their way to one of these places and Chang dropped some news about taking a larger profit margin or something, Kwang was outraged and killed him.”

“In which case, he’d want to get another shop up and running ASAP,” Morgan comments.

“Let’s run with that theory,” Karadec decides. “We’ll split up and check the different points on the hexagon. Use Kwang’s previous warehouses for ideas about where he’d be holed up or operating a new factory.”

“Someone from Immigration is here with Chang’s visa information,” Soto says.

“I got it,” Oz offers. “Go find this guy.”

“I’ll go with Daphne,” Morgan announces.

“Okay,” Karadec agrees, standing. “Which direction do we go?”

“Hotel Normandie faces east,” you answer. “Most people turn right when leaving a building, so he’d be pretty likely to go South. The art museum would either be first or last because it’s west of the hotel.”

“We’ll take the southern locations starting with the Natural History Museum. Then we’ll hit Dodger Stadium and go around. Daphne and Morgan, go west to the art museum then north toward Griffith Observatory. Overlapping visits should double our chances.”

“Yeah, that’s not how percentage of chance works,” Morgan replies. “I’ll explain it later.”

“Oh, good,” Karadec deadpans.

“So…” Karadec begins as he drives toward the natural history museum. “What did you want to do when you joined the department?”

“At first, I didn’t know. Then I realized I wanted to become a detective,” you answer. “I think it’s too late for that.”

“Never know. What made you decide?”

“A lot of detectives worth looking up to. Including you.”

You realize what you said and chew the inside of your bottom lip as you wait for Karadec to say something. Anything.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment. “Although you had better options.”

“I didn’t know Daphne yet,” you joke, pulling a rare smile from him. “Hey, slow down. That building should be condemned.”

Karadec slows as he steers the car onto the gravel shoulder. He watches the shadows moving in the covered windows and radios for backup.

“ETA two minutes,” dispatch replies.

“Uh, Karadec?” you interrupt.

“Yeah?”

“Door just opened.”

You watch Victor Kwang exit the warehouse in an expensive suit. He notices the car and then runs along the side of the building. You don’t hesitate to exit Karadec’s car and chase him, ignoring Karadec’s yells for you to wait.

As you round the western side of the warehouse, you speed up and push off your right foot to tackle Victor Kwang. He grunts as he lands in the dirt, and you pant through your recitation of his Miranda rights. Karadec approaches behind you and passes you a pair of handcuffs.

“Maybe we should let you carry those next time,” he says. “Is that your car, Mr. Kwang?”

“Lawyer,” Kwang replies as you turn him to make him sit up.

“In that case, I’ll go ahead and get it towed to the station in violation of California Vehicle Code 22500,” Karadec says, pulling his phone from his pocket.

You look at the car and smile. “Section f: A person shall not stop or park on a portion of a sidewalk.”

“It’s my sidewalk!” Kwang argues as sirens approach the front of the building.

“It’s the city’s sidewalk,” Karadec says. He takes your place and pulls Kwang’s arm to make him stand. “So, we’ll be searching your illegally parked car when it arrives at the station.”

After an officer takes Kwang, you take a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Karadec checks, laying his hand on your shoulder.

Your muscles tense, pulling into a tight knot before immediately releasing to be more relaxed than before Karadec touched you. He feels every movement and realizes by the movement that you are devastatingly touch-starved. Karadec does not like touching things or people, you’ve noticed, but you’re both acutely aware of how well his hand fits on you.

“I’m okay,” you answer quietly.

The moment ends abruptly when Karadec’s phone rings. He removes his hand from your shoulder to answer Daphne’s call, but his warmth lingers as you follow him back to the car.

After Kwang confesses to receive a plea deal and offers up the international crime matchmaker who introduced him to Chang, you return home. Your hand raises to your shoulder, where Karadec touched you. Now that the case is closed, you’ll likely be transferred out of Major Crimes again and lose the four people you think you could have been friends with. Again.

Someone knocks on your door, and you approach it quietly to look through the peephole. Sighing, you open the door and silently invite Karadec into your home.

“Is everything okay?” you ask. “Soto told me I could finish the reports in the morning.”

“No, that’s fine,” he replies, looking briefly around your living room before bending back slightly with his hands in his pockets. “I… I think I can help you.”

Your mouth opens, but you take a moment to find the right words. “Do you mean that the other way? Can I help you again?”

“No, no,” he answers with a smile. “Can I just show you?”

“Sure,” you say slowly.

Adam pulls his hands from his pockets as he steps toward you. You inhale quickly at his proximity, and when his hands raise, you hold your breath. Tensing your muscles as Karadec lays his hands on your waist, you swallow. His thumbs brush wide arcs between your ribs as your body relaxes at his touch.

“Oh,” you realize under your breath.

“You said you looked up to me as a detective. I admire you as a lot more than that.”

The initial pain of his touch fades, and you seem to melt beneath his hands. If you’re going to react like this, Karadec thinks, he may never take his hands off you.

“I thought you didn’t like touching things with germs,” you remember.

“Found an exception.”

Karadec smiles as you argue, “Soto won’t like that.”

One of his hands slides from your waist and catches your hand. You instinctively try to pull away because it hurts, but he holds you tighter, drops his smile, and whispers, “It’s okay.”

You nod and shift your hands to interlace your fingers with his.

“If you want help with this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. “I’m here. But you tell me when to stop.”

“Why?” you inquire.

Karadec doesn’t answer, and you admit, “I have feelings for you. Like… feelings. I understand if that makes you feel different and you don’t want me close anymore.”

“Feelings?” he repeats, using the tone you used the second time. “Should it make me feel different?”

Your brows furrow and Karadec returns both hands to your waist.

“It doesn’t,” he assures you, dropping his hands.

“There’s hand sanitizer in my bag, behind you,” you offer.

“Soto sent me over to tell you she wants you in Major Crimes full-time,” Karadec interjects. “It’s up to you, though.”

“Would that… Do you care if I say yes?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“You’re not really helping me here.”

He nods in a small circular movement which tells you he doesn’t care about that. His smile, however, makes you smile.

“I have wanted to be a detective for a long time,” you muse.

“Anyone you’d be leaving behind in the other divisions?”

“Oh, yeah,” you answer sarcastically. “I’m just swimming in friends, hence the extreme touch starvation.”

“Give Soto your answer in the morning,” he requests. “I’ll see you there?”

“Of course.”

You watch Karadec leave, and when you wrap your arms around your waist, nothing happens. No pain, no pins or needles, just warmth and the memory of Karadec's touch.

When Karadec enters Major Crimes the morning after visiting you, you’re nowhere to be seen.

“Daph!” he calls. “Where is she?”

“Morgan?” she clarifies.

“She’s finishing paperwork,” Oz answers. “Transfer papers, I’d guess.”

“I need signatures,” Soto says, exiting her office.

“Beautiful,” Daphne whispers as she signs your completed report.

“Yes, it is,” Karadec agrees, though his eyes are up, watching you enter the office with a smile.

“Where’d the grumpy persona go?” you whisper as you place a donut box on your new desk.

“I’d guess wherever he left it last night,” Soto answers, looking between you.

Morgan enters, spouting theories about another case but stops when she sees you. “I told you! You just had to stop pretending you couldn’t do it.”

“Hey,” Daphne calls, pointing at you with a sprinkled donut. “No ‘will they, won’t they,’ okay? Do it or don’t, but I can’t watch my friends dance around each other.”

“We’re friends?” you repeat.

“Duh.”

“So…” Morgan begins. “Are you okay with a group hug or do you need some more time?”

You look at Karadec, who shrugs, and then you nod. As you’re wrapped in warmth and care by your new friends – and Karadec, who you hope can be more than a friend – you realize that you finally found where you belong, and you’re not pretending anymore. You can do this. You can do the job, the friendships, and the openness.

[thebutchersbitch]

Sorry if this goes against what you write I couldn't find like a request dos and don't thingy lol but I would love if you wrote about a reader who has to get chained up or locked up every night before they go to sleep because cooper cant trust you won't run away, but one day the restraints are loose or not locked (maybe he does it on purpose to test you) and you decide to stay put because you love him and then he rewards you 🫣

This story can be read alone or as Part Two of this one!! 😊

18+ only

Daddy kink/DDLG | Stockholm Syndrome | Breeding kink | Reader was kidnapped by Cooper months ago, taken from her home and husband, but has forgotten her former life entirely while under Cooper’s manipulation and control

Cooper’s jaw was tense as he pulled out of the driveway. He’d made a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret. The consequences of the test he was currently giving you could be lethal to his entire world…and yet, he needed to test your loyalty to him. It wasn’t enough for Cooper to hear you profess with words your love for him. Words alone meant nothing; as a skilled liar, Cooper knew this all too well. He needed real, irrefutable proof that even when given the choice of escape, you’d still be waiting for him when he returned to the safe house.

It’s why he’d left the keys to your cuffs on the table at your side of the bed, where you could easily reach them. If he returned to the house that afternoon on his lunch break and you were still there…then at last, Cooper would have his answer. If however, you’d used the opportunity to escape, then his entire life would be in your hands. Either way, Cooper had to know what would happen if he tested you. He sighed deeply through his nose, lips pressed into a stern, flat line. He looked back at the house one last time before leaving, hoping his instincts about his little girl’s loyalty to him would prove correct…

The hours at the fire station passed by easily enough. When lunch time arrived, Cooper made an excuse to the men working under him about needing an extended break. Family stuff, he lied explained. Really, he needed to go check on his girl.

He packed up his lunch and brought it to the car with him. Cooper drove the few miles from the station to the safe house he kept you in, listening to a local news and weather report on the radio, taking a few distracted bites of his sandwich on the way.

When you heard Cooper’s car come to a stop outside the house, your heart rate kicked up a notch. The handcuffs he’d left you in were now sitting with the keys on your nightstand beside you. Unaware that you were being tested, you’d taken advantage of Cooper’s ‘mistake,’ in leaving the keys within your reach. This will finally prove it to him, you thought. Cooper would see that even with the ability to leave him, you’d choose to stay.

Cooper entered the house downstairs, listening. It was quiet…too quiet. Perhaps you were sleeping, Cooper wondered. Apprehension built within him as his fears you’d escaped multiplied. He passed the stairs quickly, his steps heavy down the carpeted hall that led to the bedroom. You smiled when Cooper’s boots became visible in the crack under the door. He seemed to pause, inhaling a deep breath before pulling back the door. Met with the sight of you sitting on the bed, Cooper felt a sense of peace sink over him. He swallowed the lump of nerves that had been building in his throat, leaning inside the doorway, smiling at his girl. “Hi baby,” he said, and in spite of hearing Cooper’s voice nearly every day for the past ten months, your cheeks still warmed bashfully.

He looked so goddamn handsome, so big, illuminated in the doorway with the hallway light behind him.

Cooper looked at the table beside you, and then your wrist. His test had been successful. You’d proven yourself just as beautifully broken as Cooper hoped you were. He’d never been more proud of his little girl.

“I took the cuffs off,” you said, a little worried. “I hope you’re not mad at me, Daddy.” Cooper shook his head.

“Far from it,” he replied softly. Cooper didn’t hesitate a second longer before taking three quick strides to the bed, and climbing on top of you. Your legs parted instinctively for him, the soft outline of your pussy puffy and warm as Cooper rubbed himself against you.

His kisses on your neck were tender, grateful. He needed this, even more than he’d thought. The knowledge that you were truly his had Cooper’s mind spinning in the best way, his body flooded with adrenaline and happiness. His cock was already stiff against your cunt; he reached between your bodies and undid his jeans, relieving some of the pressure. Cooper’s kisses traveled lower, between your breasts and down your belly. When his tongue traced the outline of your bellybutton, a little giggle shivered out of you. The giggle was quickly silenced and exchanged for a whimper when Cooper’s mouth latched over your pussy.

Any remaining tension in his mind melted away into the moist heat of your cunt. Cooper couldn’t think straight when his face was between your legs, your fingers tugging at his hair, his tongue buried in the soft folds of your pussy. All he could focus on was your sweet taste, the slick smearing across his cheeks as he nuzzled your folds. You rotated your hips side to side, seeking the end of Cooper’s nose to rub your clit against. He sucked fat, wet kisses onto your pussy, a filthy squelch following each.

His shoulders were nestled between your thighs, his chest and belly against the bed as he ate you. Cooper’s arms hooked around your upper legs, his fingers laced together on top of your belly, holding you in place so you couldn’t squirm away from him no matter how hard you came. Pearly liquid oozed from your pussy in between Cooper’s lips, his mouth sealing over your cunt and lightly sucking. The pulsing pressure made your legs twitch, prompting Cooper to lock his arms even tighter across your belly, a proud smirk finding his lips as he realized how close you were.

“So good for me, baby,” Cooper hummed against your pussy, his words interspersed with little kisses and sucks. “Such a good little pussy…all pretty and puffy, just begging for Daddy to kiss it…” He spanked his palm lightly against your cunt, watching your pussy flinch and your tiny hole pucker.

Making you come was what Cooper lived for in this moment. Any time his face was between your legs, your pleasure was all that mattered to him, now more than ever. You’d done so well, proved yourself loyal to him in the most definitive way possible. You needed to be rewarded, to be shown exactly how much Cooper appreciated knowing that his little girl was truly, unquestionably his. Nothing existed beyond the space where Cooper’s face was nestled, his eyes closed in a drug-like satisfaction, your warm thighs acting as earmuffs to seal away the world around him.

Cooper ate you for an hour straight, without a single pause to rest his jaw or tongue. Your ass was sitting in a little puddle of your own juices by the time he was finished. He reached for his phone, pulling it from his pocket with slippery fingers. He cursed when he saw the time. “Have to get back,” he murmured, returning his phone to his pocket, popping his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. Cooper kissed your belly and lifted himself off the bed, stuffing his cock back in his jeans.

He slicked back his hair, wiping his wet chin on his sleeve. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” you told him in a small voice. Cooper nodded as he gently pulled your panties back up. “I know angel,” he said. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.” He winked up at you. “Promise.” Cooper reminded you to eat the lunch he’d brought you from the station, and to get plenty of rest while he was gone. You’d need it for tomorrow, he said. “Because tomorrow,” Cooper explained. “When Daddy gets home, he’s gonna put his dick where his tongue was for the past hour.” Cooper’s tone was darker, a sincerity in his voice that was thick with lust. “And I’m not gonna stop,” he continued. “Till I’ve put a baby inside you.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “Yeah,” Cooper nodded, sensing your confusion. “You’re going to make me a real daddy again, angel.” He leaned closer and cupped your cheek tenderly. “I know that I can trust you now,” Cooper said, an affectionate grin on his lips. “You won’t leave me. That means I can trust you to carry my children.” He sat down on the bed beside you. “Rachel is…” Cooper paused. “She won’t give me anymore kids. It’s fine, it’s her choice, but-.” Cooper sighed. “I want more. You’ll give them to me.” You felt a little dizzy, not just from coming so hard for an hour straight. Cooper’s plans for you had caught you off guard.

“Isn’t that right honey?” Cooper asked, but he wasn’t really asking at all. “You’ll make me a daddy as many times as I want, won’t you?” You nodded slowly, absorbing Cooper’s words. “We’ll deliver the babies here,” Cooper continued, matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry about safety-I’ll make sure it’s safe. I have the training. I can deliver our babies right here-.” Cooper patted the bed, a confident smile on his face. “Firefighters are trained to deliver babies on the job if necessary.” His voice was cheerful. “Did you know that, sweetheart?”

You shook your head ‘no,’ still processing Cooper’s plans for you. He rose from the bed once again, sighing contentedly as he headed for the door. “You’ll make an excellent mother,” Cooper told you. “Much better than mine. I know it.” He patted the doorframe on his way out. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

[quinngefail]

Girl where the fuck is your bra

[wendsky]

I just wanted to start off with saying how much I love your writing !! you do such a great job with showing what's happening and I'm never confused on what's happening or who's talking (I have the second issue often lol) anyways if you do requests I do have one !! Y/N transfers to Nevermore because of bullies and at some point comes in some sort of physical contact with Wednesday where she gets a vision of you being bullied. Wednesday becomes kinda protective over you the way she is with Eugene and Pugsley, but Y/N's relationship with Wednesday developes into something more. sorry for such a long message and again loving what you're doing !!

thank you for your kind words and of course!

protected

wednesday addams x !witch!fem!reader

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The swirling shadows of Nevermore Academy were a far cry from your previous school, where you had endured the relentless torment of bullies. You had hoped that the new environment would be a sanctuary, a place where you could finally breathe and be yourself. But the anxiety that gripped your chest told you that change didn’t come without its challenges.

As you walked through the stone archways of the academy, you took in the gothic architecture that surrounded you—towering spires, iron chandeliers, and dark wood accents. The students that roamed the halls were unlike any you’d encountered before, with their eclectic styles and unapologetic personalities. For the first time, you felt a flicker of hope. But that flicker quickly dimmed when you heard the whispers.

“Look at her,” one girl sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. “Another weirdo trying to fit in.”

You kept your head down, trying to ignore the cruel laughter that followed you as you made your way to your first class. You had thought you left the bullying behind, but the stares and whispered comments followed you like a shadow.

The first week passed in a blur of classes and isolation. You kept to yourself, determined not to give anyone a reason to target you further. That resolve was put to the test during lunch one day. As you sat at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, trying to enjoy your meal in peace, you felt a sharp shove from behind.

“Oops! Didn’t see you there, loser!” a girl with vibrant purple hair sneered as she walked past, causing you to spill your drink all over yourself. The laughter from her group echoed in your ears as they made their way to the main table, where the more popular students gathered.

Embarrassment flushed your cheeks, and you tried to clean yourself up with a napkin, your hands trembling. You hated feeling weak, hated that they still had power over you. Just as you thought you’d disappear into the floor, a shadow fell over you.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Did you spill your drink? Or are you just that clumsy?” The voice was low and smooth, tinged with an unsettling calmness that sent a chill down your spine. You looked up to see Wednesday Addams standing there, her expression unreadable.

You blinked, startled by her sudden presence. “I—um, it was an accident,” you managed to stammer, avoiding her piercing gaze.

“Accidents happen, but that wasn’t an accident. It was intentional,” she said, her dark eyes narrowing. You couldn’t tell if she was angry or simply observing.

“I can handle it,” you replied, the instinct to defend yourself kicking in despite your embarrassment.

“Clearly,” she said dryly, and you could almost hear the sarcasm in her tone. “Are you always this brave, or is it just for show?”

“Whatever,” you muttered, your face hot. You hated that she saw you like this—weak and embarrassed.

“Don’t bother. They’re not worth your time,” she replied, her voice steady. She touched your shoulder and for a moment, went still. As if nothing happened, with a swift motion, she turned to leave, her raven-black hair swaying behind her as she walked away.

The next incident came unexpectedly. You were in the library, trying to focus on your studies when you overheard the same group of girls from lunch laughing and whispering nearby. You tried to block them out, but their words cut through the air like daggers.

“Have you seen her? She thinks she’s so special just because she’s here,” one girl said.

“Yeah, as if we need more freaks around here,” another chimed in.

You clenched your fists, your heart racing as you felt the familiar wave of panic wash over you. Why did they have to make everything so difficult? Just as you were about to storm out of the library, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned to see Wednesday standing beside you, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “Stay,” she commanded softly, her voice laced with an urgency that surprised you.

“What?” you asked, bewildered.

“Stay. I want to see how they handle this,” she said, glancing toward the group with a predatory gaze. You hesitated but nodded, curiosity getting the better of you.

As you watched, Wednesday approached the girls, her presence commanding their attention. “Why don’t you say that to her face?” she asked, her tone calm yet filled with an underlying menace.

The girls froze, the laughter dying on their lips. They exchanged nervous glances, the bravado fading as they met Wednesday’s unwavering gaze.

“Uh, we were just joking,” one girl stammered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Jokes aren’t meant to hurt,” Wednesday replied, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “If you have something to say, be brave enough to say it to her.”

You felt your heart race as the girls shifted uneasily, their earlier confidence shattered under Wednesday’s intense scrutiny. They muttered something unintelligible before quickly gathering their things and leaving the library.

You turned to Wednesday, astonished. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Actually, I did,” she replied, her expression softening slightly. “You shouldn’t have to tolerate their cruelty.”

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As the days passed, you noticed a shift in Wednesday’s behavior toward you. It was subtle but undeniable. She began to appear at random moments—sitting nearby in classes, leaning against the wall while you walked to lunch, or simply observing from a distance. At first, you found it unnerving. Why was she watching you? Did she pity you, or was she just curious?

But as the bullying incidents continued, you found solace in her presence. Wednesday’s protective nature began to emerge, mirroring the way she defended her friends, like Eugene and Pugsley. It made you feel… safe. You still faced harassment, but it was less frequent, and you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find a place at Nevermore.

The third incident happened in the hallway. You were on your way to class when you overheard a group of students mocking you again. “Look at her, always alone. What a loser,” one of them laughed.

You took a deep breath, preparing to ignore them, but suddenly, a figure stepped in front of you. It was Wednesday, her dark dress billowing slightly as she stood her ground, her eyes cold and unforgiving.

“Is there a problem here?” she asked, her voice low, but the intensity in her gaze was unmistakable.

The students faltered, caught off guard by her sudden appearance. “We were just—” one of them started, but Wednesday interrupted.

“Just what? Making fun of someone who’s already struggling? How brave of you,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

With that, she turned to you, her eyes softening for the first time. “Ignore them. They’re insignificant.”

You blinked, your heart pounding in your chest as you took in her fierce protection. It was a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time, and it made your heart swell.

“Thank you,” you managed to whisper, and for a moment, you thought you saw the corner of Wednesday’s mouth twitch in a ghost of a smile.

The more time you spent together, the more your feelings began to shift. There was something intoxicating about Wednesday—the way she moved, the way she spoke with such conviction and intelligence. You found yourself looking forward to her presence, her shadow becoming a constant comfort amidst the chaos of Nevermore.

One day, while working on a school project in the library, you accidentally brushed your fingers against hers while reaching for a book. The contact was electric, sending a jolt of warmth through your body. You froze, meeting her gaze, your heart racing as you realized how close you had become.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Are you afraid of me?”

You shook your head, the words tumbling out before you could think. “No. I’m… intrigued. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

She seemed to consider your words, her dark eyes searching yours. “I suppose I’m not.”

With a sudden confidence, you leaned closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “Why do you protect me?”

“Because you’re worth protecting,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of her words hung in the air like a spell.

The moment stretched between you, filled with unspoken emotions and possibilities. You wanted to reach out, to close the distance, but the moment was fragile.

“Do you want to be friends?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

“Friends,” Wednesday repeated, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered the term. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”

As the weeks turned into months, your bond with Wednesday deepened. You shared secrets in the dark corners of the library, and her dry humor slowly chipped away at the walls you had built around your heart. There were moments when her fingers would brush against yours, lingering just a heartbeat longer, and you felt a thrill that was both exciting and terrifying.

But as your friendship grew, so did your feelings. You found yourself daydreaming about her—wondering what it would be like to hold her hand, to share whispered secrets late at night. You caught her watching you more often, and each time your eyes met, it felt like a silent understanding passed between you.

One afternoon, you found yourselves alone in the courtyard, the sun casting a warm glow over everything. You were sitting on a bench, reading, when Wednesday approached, her expression thoughtful.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her tone serious. “I need to talk to you.”

You looked up, meeting her intense gaze. “What is it?”

“Do you believe in destiny?” she asked, her voice almost hesitant.

You frowned, taken aback by her sudden vulnerability. “I suppose… it depends on what you mean.”

“I believe that certain people are meant to cross paths,” she continued, her dark eyes searching yours. “And I believe that you were meant to be here.”

Your heart raced as her words sank in. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, taking a deep breath, “that I’ve never cared about anyone the way I care about you. You’re… different. You make me feel things I don’t understand.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you processed her words. “I feel the same way, Wednesday.”

She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “Then let’s stop pretending. We can be more than friends, if you want.”

You nodded, unable to speak as you felt tears prick your eyes. In that moment, you realized how far you had come. You had gone from being a scared girl, bullied and alone, to standing here with someone who saw you for who you truly were.

And then she was there, her lips brushing against yours—a soft, tentative kiss that quickly turned into something more passionate. You melted against her, wrapping your arms around her waist as you kissed her back, your heart soaring with a mixture of joy and relief.

When you pulled away, both of you breathless, Wednesday looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “This changes everything,” she said, her voice low and serious.

“Yes,” you agreed, smiling through your tears. “For the better.”

And as you stood there together, the shadows of Nevermore seemed a little less daunting, the future a little more promising. In Wednesday’s presence, you felt like you could finally be yourself, free from the burdens of the past. You were no longer alone, and that made all the difference.