#wednesday drabble

[woewriting]

wednesday addams is good at everything.

──

The sun was setting in the distant horizon, the orangish color painting the sky, the dim lights automatically turning on as the room became darker, all you could see was the silhouette of the girl sat in her chair, rapidly typing on her writing machine. Watching Wednesday work on her novel always left you mesmerized, she wasn’t allowed to make a single mistake as the antique machine didn’t have an erase button and the writer refused to stain the paper. She was brilliant.

“You’re good at fencing, botany, writing, and I’m sure you’re great at killing people too, but…” You stop, unsure if you should proceed with your, stupidly and terribly planned, plan.

“But?”

“But I doubt that you’re good at kissing.”

Wednesday’s hand stopped typing as she turned her face to the right, her side profile illuminated by the fairy lights that, somehow, you convinced her to hang over her working desk. The perfectly drawn nose, the plump lips, and God, her jawline! So sharp that you’ve always wanted to run your finger over the bone to see if it would cut.

The girl kept her eyes on the wall, her brain working in what her next step to this, obvious, teasing should be. You could almost see the engines twisting inside her skull.

The moment she stood up, her eyes were fixed on your face, jaw tensed up, hands in fists. It was like she was ready to throw a punch at you, it wouldn’t be the first time… but when she took a step closer and you closed your eyes, waiting for the collision, her fingers pulled you by the collar of your shirt until you felt her hot breath against your lips.

“I’m good at everything.” Her voice was serious.

Tilting your chin up, a small smirk tugged the corner of your lips. Eyes slowly opening, meeting hers.

“Why don’t you prove me wrong then, Addams?”

Wednesday loosened the grip on your shirt, the stretched fabric showing your collarbones, a few moles adorning the skin. For a second, in an intrusive thought, the brunette wanted to count each one that covered your body. She had seen a few whenever you wore sleeveless shirts or shorts, they decorated your skin like stars in the night sky, but there was one she had never seen before and, now, got her full attention and became her favorite, a small mole near the vale of your breasts.

She wanted to touch, her hand reaching down to invade the ruined fabric in a curious act, but she stopped midway when she felt the deep breath you took, she could see goosebumps all over your chest with the sudden proximity. You had been next to each other before, but not like this. Not with her eyes peeking through your shirt, her plump lips taking all your attention, so close to yours.

Wednesday was so kissable, and she didn’t even know that.

Not with her hands on your neck as she looked up, big brown eyes staring at your soul. She took a deep breath, swallowing the air to her lungs almost as if it was hurting. And when she closed the gap between you two in a bruising kiss, it felt like a burning knife pierced her throat.

Her nails dug the back of your neck, her teeth biting your lower lip. You knew Wednesday wasn’t gentle, but this was a whole new level. Wrapping your hands on her thin waist, you finally pulled her impossibly closer.

Her tongue licked yours deliciously before sucking hard on it, a struggled sound escaping you, a small string of saliva connecting your lips before she kissed you again, the ragged, unsteady breathing making your lungs burn, begging for air. Pulling back, your chest rose and fell aggressively, your lips lingering over hers, almost touching, uneven breathing colliding with your face.

Before you could kiss her again, her hand pressed down to your chest, pushing you away. Your knees buckled against the bed frame, and you awkwardly fell onto the mattress.

Wednesday was blushed, eyes half open and red, swollen lips. She looked like a mess, and you’re sure you look even worse, you could feel the burning feeling on every centimeter of your body, your hair all over your face.

“Good enough for you?”

[sugarrazz]

Can your write reader being jealous of someone getting to close to Wednesday so threw out the day reader has an attitude towards Wednesday until eventually Wednesday has enough of it and puts the reader in her place? You can decide if you want to make it sfw or nsfw

Hi anon! I wrote this one just for you. I really got into this while writing it and I hope you enjoy it. ;)

I Wasn’t Ignoring You / Wednesday x gn!reader

Notes: female anatomy, dom!wednesday, wednesday x reader, wednesday pleasuring reader, nsfw, smut, cum eating, new student grabs wednesday’s attention, reader with attitude, kinda bratty, talk of corpses, jealous feelings, fingering, oral sex, pussy licking, cumming, pls let me cum, fic, oneshot, i was listening to madison beer while writing this

Today has been shitty. You missed your alarm and the only thing that woke you up was Enid bouncing up and down on your mattress, chanting that you’re gonna be late to class. You didn’t even get to brush your teeth and your hair looked like a bird’s nest.

Fast forward to now, your arm was hooked around Wednesday’s and you were enjoying what little warmth she had. “Your lack of hygiene doesn’t phase me.” She kept telling you every time you apologized for looking like a mess. She even helped you fix up your uniform. You felt so lucky to have her in your life. Your head rested on her shoulder as she proudly escorted you down the halls of Nevermore. As you passed a couple of students, one of them bumped into your shoulder, making you detach from your beloved and a small gasp escaped your lips. 

“Oh, sorry about that! I don’t think we’ve met before. What’s your name?”

You remembered that there was a new batch of students and you just managed to bump into one of them. Wednesday peeked around you, concerned by your gasp, and met the new kid’s gaze through her bangs. 

“My nam-” “It’s Wednesday.”

 You couldn’t believe this. He bumped into YOU but completely ignores you and ogles your girlfriend. You didn’t want to stay and chat so you attempted to pull Wednesday along with you, but she blew you off.

“That pin on your uniform. It’s to my liking. Give it to me.”

“Oh, my corpse pin? No way, it’s my favorite one. I can give you another one though.”

Flabbergasted, you spun on your heels and ran off to class. The image of the love of your life and some random guy getting along is imprinted on your brain. Wednesday doesn’t just get along with anyone. So why?

When you make it to class you throw your books on the desk, garnering a couple of students’ attention toward you and your disheveled appearance. You couldn’t focus at all on what the teacher was saying the whole class, your rage getting the best of you. The way he looked at her was anything but friendly. You couldn’t be overthinking this. Fine, she can do whatever she wants. You’ll just treat her the way she treated you. Brushing you off like a leaf on a windy day. The bell rang and you packed away your books, getting ready to go meet Wednesday and head to the cafeteria. 

“-so they found his dead body by the lake, and there were dog bites all over him. They blamed the werewolf kids for it.” You stared into his eyes, silently wishing death upon him. You hated it but he had the most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen. It was no wonder he was so popular right now. All the girls at the table behind you were staring at him hungrily.

“A most grotesque scene, one that I would have loved the honor to have seen.” Wednesday seemed to be enjoying their strange conversation over dead bodies, both of them seeming to share a love of corpses. The thought of them having common interests was pissing you off even more. Wednesday reached out to rub your hand under the table but you jerked it away, your brow twitching. She glanced at you curiously since you never reject her advances. But you gave her an annoyed look, brushing off the chills you suddenly received. “How much longer are we going to talk about dead people? I’m trying to eat.” You swallow your food messily and some of it gets on the new boy, whose name you didn’t bother to learn. Nor did you care. You were glad his uniform got dirty. Maybe he’ll go away. But no, he takes a napkin and wipes it off, not even giving it another glance as he jumps back into the conversation. You felt like a third wheel for the rest of lunch.

“Let’s go to Jericho”, Wednesday told you and you happily agreed to a chance to get away from this womanizer. “Jericho? Cool, I’m headed there too! We’ll have the best day out. C’mon!” If your headache could get any worse then it would as you feel like a vein is going to pop out of your head. You couldn’t get a single moment alone with Wednesday. What’s the point of going if her attention isn’t gonna be on you? “Yay”, you sarcastically cheered as the bus pulled up. Your attitude did not go unnoticed by a certain goth girl. She let it go, for now.

You brush away your feelings long enough until you arrive at Jericho. Wednesday stops you after you’ve exited the bus and you’re on the sidewalk. “Y/N”, Wednesday said sternly, an underlying tone masking her voice. Dread fell upon you as you looked up at her, black eyes boring into your own. 

“This outing would be more than adequate if you were to behave yourself.”

 “Behave yourself”, you mocked her, flipping your hair in her face and continuing to walk. Boy, would you regret that later.

 “You seem to be having a lot of fun with this guy, so I should just leave you to it.” You both stood there having a staring contest until she decides to break the deafening silence. 

“Y/N, he is a charlatan trying to show off to a master. He is nothing to me.” Her stern gaze leaves a silent warning to stop acting up. You did not heed.

“I’m sick of your attitude. Let’s go fix that right now.”

“Huh!?”

Wednesday drags you back to Nevermore and up the stairs to your dorm. Her grip on your skin is tight and sure to leave a mark. She looks around for your roommate, making sure the coast is clear before she pushes a chair up against the doorknob. That’ll give her enough time to hide if anyone stops by.

“You’ve been quite defiant today. I should educate you on some proper manners.”

In one swift movement, she throws you on the bed, and undoes her tie, her predatory eyes making your pussy throb. You look away, which doesn’t please Wednesday a single bit. She hovers above you and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“While I adore your submissiveness, I require your utmost attention for what I’m about to do to you.”

She then tilts your chin up, her plump lips floating right above the skin on your neck, hot breaths that further teased you. She left hickeys up and down your neck, marking you as hers for everyone else to know. Your breath hitches as you try to stifle a moan. Wednesday notices and briskly grabs a hold of your neck. 

“Don’t hold back.”

And just like that, you melted at her orders. Little mewls started to come out of you as Wednesday started rubbing your folds through your panties, and your juices started to ooze out of you. Her fingers were rhythmic as they made a moaning mess out of you. You squealed as she entered her fingers inside you, working with feverish haste and giving no time for you to accommodate her. 

While her fingers on one hand were busy, her other hand rubbed circles around your lips, before she dove in for a kiss. She was surprisingly gentle, and her tongue brushed against your lips, begging for entry. You decided to test your luck and denied it. She let out a muffled groan and her thumb purposely brushed over your clit. You jolted, but Wednesday caged you under her, sealing your fate. At that moment, unbeknownst to you, you opened your mouth just enough for her to finally get inside and your tongues danced around in each other’s mouths. An oral ballad that she always won. Your french kiss didn’t last for long as she pulled away and took a mental screenshot of you, tousled under her.

“You’re most alluring in this view.”

She said in a monotone voice, but her eyes glinted with a deep passion for you. It made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks but Wednesday snapped you out of it as her head went under your skirt, closer to the heat between your legs. She raised back out with your panties hanging in between her teeth, a morbid grin on her face as she dropped them on the floor. She dove back in and you mentally prepared yourself for what was to come next. Her warm tongue started lapping up the excess juices that were coming out of your pussy and you instinctively opened up your legs for her, your breathing picking up. You grabbed the sheets as your hands shook. She sucked your clit at a devastatingly slow pace, making you quiver at her mercy. You felt so hot and bothered and as the knot in your stomach built up, you unconsciously bucked your hips, which encouraged Wednesday to keep going. Her fingers kept busy inside you as her wet tongue devoured you. 

“W-wednesday, I’m-”

“Just a little longer.”

You plead with her to let you cum. You wouldn’t be able to obey her for long but she wasn’t having it. Your juices started trailing down Wednesday’s fingers as she pumped her fingers in and out of you at an unrelentless pace, her breath picking up. You were twitching, trying to get away from her, but failing, as you were reaching your climax. You let out a loud moan as you came, as Wednesday pulled her fingers out of you and consumed every last drop of cum you had to give. 

You felt satisfied but dizzy as you dropped your head down. Wednesday ran off to clean her hands and face in the bathroom, leaving you to recollect your thoughts. When she came out, she just laid next to you on the bed. Didn’t say anything, it was a tranquil peace as she held your hand and you both stared at the ceiling.

“You still came without my permission. I’ll get you back later.”

[saninthebuilding]

love kills. or does it? - xavier thorpe

summary: crackstone has been brought back from the dead, and it seems that along with mass destruction, there are also some other forms of chaos to be dealt with. feelings, so to speak.

(inspired by the last episode of wednesday)

word count: 2.1k (i got excited)

warnings: potential spoilers for wednesday, modified plot, swearing, emotions, mention of injury & blood, L-bombs, confession, xavier & reader being idiots in love

a/n: recently finished wednesday and i cannot tell you how bad i have wanted to write something for xavier since then. and i finally did!

hope you enjoy it! <3

~

there was chaos everywhere.

students were screaming as they ran out the front gates of nevermore, grabbing their friend's sleeves to drag each other away from the large fire sparking in the center of the quad. people collided and stumbled as they shoved past in an attempt to get away.

crackstone was back.

ms.thornhill- or should i say laurel, had been successful in resurrecting the century-old outcast-hater in his crypt because i was unable to stop her in time.

and now he was wrecking havoc all throughout the nevermore campus.

crackstone was back.

and it was all my fault.

gritting my teeth, i forced a path through the crowd of panicked students, attempting to reach the quad before any real damage could be brought about.

this is my fault.

the fact that it had come to crackstone actually being able to fulfill the prophecy of destruction was on my hands.

maybe xavier was right-

no.

rowan's mother had painted that based on a vision, and they only gave the seer half the story. i had learned that countless times based on my own experiences.

i can fix this.

anger rising at the chaos surrounding me, i managed to find an opening between the students and pushed forward, ignoring the shouts of protest from my peers as they tried to piece together why i was going in the opposite direction.

i rushed into the quad and headed straight to the staircase. from what i could recall, there was a sword set on display on the upper floor of the building.

if i can get that, i can finish this.

halfway up the stairs, i heard a scream and whirled around, peering over the railing to see crackstone entering the quad, staff glowing green.

"i have arrived to rid the world of thy kind!" he roared, energy pulsating through the air.

shit.

taking the stairs two at a time, i slid into the hall of the second floor and instantly spotted the blade. spirits rising, i ran towards the case and swiped it off the stand, giving it a quick once over before turning back towards the staircase.

running down the steps, i went over what goody had told me back in the crypt.

through his black heart, huh?

when you put it like that, his teeth and his heart seemed to be twins.

clearing the final step, i rushed into the quad, and saw crackstone raise his staff at a couple huddled together in front of him.

seriously, did she really step in to protect him? ridiculous.

"howdy, pilgrim." i called to the walking-dead man before he could blast the two of them to ash.

he whirled around, shock etched across his rotting face, and the pair of love-struck fools took the chance to rush out of the main gates to safety.

no wonder there's that saying about love and death.

"how canst thy heart still beat?" crackstone spits, his eyes wide and filled with rage.

"the real question here is how can yours? you look like a walking corpse. oh wait- that's exactly what you are." i adjust my grip on the blade in my hand, before looking the man up and down.

"quite an ugly walking corpse as well."

his face twisted inhumanely, and he let out a seething roar as he raised his staff, moving to charge at me.

suddenly, there were thuds echoing behind me, and a voice yelled out-

"stay away from her!"

xavier.

i spun around, eyes wide and breathing ragged, just in time to see him shoot the arrow lodged into his bow at crackstone. it sped through the air straight at the space between the man's eyes, directly on target-

but it didn't hit its mark.

i watched in horror as crackstone raised his staff, and it glowed green as the arrow simply...froze in place. he twisted his fingers, and the arrow turned in midair, aiming for xavier.

no.

crackstone spread his palm, and the energy his staff released compelled the arrow toward xavier.

no.

i lunged forward, throwing myself into the arrow's path. it struck me straight in the chest, and the sheer force of it threw me off balance. the sword i was holding flew out of my hand as i rolled across the wet grass beneath me, before landing hard on my back.

"no!" xavier cried out, and within seconds he was at my side.

"y/n! what the fuck- would you do that!" he snapped, but instead of anger, there was fear in his voice. his eyes fell on the arrow sticking out of my chest, before meeting my own.

he's scared.

"go, xavier" i winced, struggling to keep my breaths even. i gripped the arrow at the base, before clenching my teeth down and breaking the shaft from as low as possible. i let out a scream as my vision blurred, and my body jerked upward at the sudden pressure being applied to the wound.

"y/n!" xavier's voice was full of panic, and he instantly moved to help me, but i pushed him away with my free arm, exhaling sharply at the pinpricks of pain shooting through my sternum.

"i'll be fine, but you need to help the others."

he stayed crouched next to me, shifting slightly to take the other half of the arrow from me and throwing it away, showing no sign of moving. grimacing, i reached over to grip the hand he had placed on my shoulder and squeezed.

"go, xavier."

his eyes locked on mine, and he hesitated for a moment. suddenly there was a scream echoing from somewhere behind him, and he shook his head, before squeezing back and forcing himself to stand.

he ran.

i watched him go and pull the last few students who were standing around with him out the gates of nevermore, before i turned over and pulled myself up.

ah, that's what the saying is. "love kills."

i stomped down on the handle of the blade, and it shot into the air.

but is this love?

ignoring the thoughts rushing through my mind and pangs of protest from the arrowhead that was still lodged into my skin, i turned to face crackstone.

whatever. at least if i die tonight, it'll be in a swordfight and not of blood loss.

"i suppose you seek an honourable death by my hands" he sneered, before swinging at me with his staff.

"oh please, as if a dead man attacking innocent civilians has any honour" i bit back as i ducked out of the way, before jabbing at his side. he sputtered angrily, deflecting my blade and swiped low, aiming for my feet.

i jumped backwards, slashing the sword up at his face, but rather than nicking skin i ended up knocking his hat off his head.

it hit the floor with a light thump, and crackstone stared at it for a second, frozen in place, before looking up me and letting out a snarl.

"you seem to be taking the revelation of your thinning hair a bit too personally" i smirked, but was quickly overwhelmed by the sudden blast of energy his staff let out. it hit me with more force than the arrow, and i was thrown into the building wall behind me. my sword shattered upon impact, metal bits flying everywhere.

"or a lot too personally" i wheezed, struggling to breathe under the pressure of his magic. a metallic scent filled the atmosphere, and i could feel goosebumps rising on my skin.

"silence, you wretched piece of filth!" crackstone roared, and i felt the strain on my body increase as his magic surged, trapping me. i gasped, fighting for air as my lungs were crushed by the invisible force he had over me.

crackstone grinned at me, his face scrunching up to reveal numerous scars and missing teeth. "finally, thy voice will be silenced forev-"

he didn't get to finish his sentence because there was a blade pointing through his stomach. from behind.

the attacker pulled the sword out of crackstones chest, and it distracted the man enough to weaken his hold on his powers. i slid down the wall and landed on my side, letting out a hiss of pain.

"be gone, you vile creature!" crackstone roared, and i looked up to see him hit xavier in the head with his staff, sending him stumbling back into the fountain.

"no!" i yelled, pulling myself up once again, except this time everything was drowned out. the pain from the arrow wound, the exhaustion from being thrown up against the wall, everything.

except xavier.

i grabbed one of the blade shards that were littered across the grass, and as crackstone turned his attention back to me, stabbed him straight through the heart.

he let out a sputtering sound, looking down at the metal lodged into his flesh. i pushed it deeper, twisting it for good measure, before looking up at him.

"you be gone, you fucking waste of space."

as if on cue, he burst into ashes, and the magic he had both within and around him flooded the quad. i held my ground, and when the air was clear, rushed to xavier's side.

"xavier!" i breathed, dropping down next to him. cringing at the pain that was resurfacing from my arrow wound, i gently pulled his head into my lap, before brushing his hair out of his face to get a look at his head.

"you're a fool, you know that? why the hell would you come back?"

trying hard not to panic, i cut off a strip of my skirt to wrap around the wound, only to stop as i felt him shifting in my grip. looking down, i saw him staring up at me with an unbelieving look on his face.

"are you serious right now?" he breathed, and i raised my eyebrows in question as i proceeded to wrap his head. pushing my hands away, he exhaled sharply as he pushed himself to sit up.

"stop moving!" i snapped, gripping the side of his face with one hand to keep him in place. using the other, i finished tying the cloth together. "you might have a concussion."

"'why would i come back?'" he ignored my protests and pointed at my chest. "you took a goddamn arrow for me and you're telling me i can't try to save you?"

"you could have died!"

"so could you!"

"but i didn't!" i said, gesturing at my completely alive self.

"what if you did? huh? then what?" xavier was getting increasingly irritated, and i couldn't figure out why.

there's no way-

"what do you care?" i tsked, and was about to tell xavier to drop it but he was faster.

"because i love you!" he yelled, "i love you, y/n! for fucks sake, i love you, and that's why i care!"

i froze in place, my heart pounding in my chest.

i suppose that love does not actually kill, which means that whoever said that line was terribly wrong.

"what?"

"did you not hear me? i said i-"

i cut him off before he could finish his sentence, grabbing the sides of his face to pull him down to mine.

and kissed him.

xavier let out a startled sound, before letting one hand rest on my hip as he gripped my collar with the other. i could feel the sweat and blood coating his skin, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of him.

despite the chaos, his hands were steady and he was sure of himself as he kissed me back. i let my hands wander, tangling them into the hair at his nape, tugging gently. he groaned slightly before letting out a surprised laugh, and i laughed as well, savouring the fact that he was here and he was safe and he was alive.

ironically, i seem to have become the very fool i was unimpressed by not so long ago.

i pulled away, breaths coming out in short gasps as i gazed up at him, clutching onto the front of his sweater.

xavier opened his eyes and gazed down at me, breathless. his eyes were blown wide, and there was a small smile playing on his lips.

then again, you don't fall in love every day.

and he was just so, so, beautiful.

"be mine" i whispered.

he stared at me, before sighing.

"y/n, i have always been yours. you just had to ask."

my heart sped up- "will you?"

"of course."

i smiled, wrapping my arms around his torso and resting my head against his chest. i could feel my wound protesting, but for now i focused on him and only him.

"i love you, xavier"

xavier placed a hand on the back of my head, carefully drawing me close and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"i love you, y/n."

[curator-on-ao3]

Wednesday Drabble: Cheers

Una gets happier after a few drinks, lips curling in giggles, long neck muscles in motion with wine-lubricated laughter.

Chris veers opposite, whiskey pulling him under, more somber than in sobriety, hand tight on his glass and head spinning into doomsday.

So two people usually so in tune fall out of sync in the drink, a lift and drop of what could be alcohol-fueled entropy of separation and loss.

Except.

Her giggle hoists him up from under and his hand on the glass steadies her artificial rise, an instinctive mutual return to a shared whole.

And they’ll drink to that.

•

Christopher Pike drabbles: 2, 1/?

[beamergirll11]

Revolting

A quick drabble between Wednesday X Xavier, a mess in the woods causes an array of feelings but only for Xavier.

Sexual Themes, Angst, Hurt Xavier

A single tree branch caused Xavier to experience the most embarrassing and arousing thing that ever happened to him. When Wednesday fell on top of him causing the leaves to fly up and flutter slowly down like rain as their bodies mashed together. He watched her rise but not stand instead straddling him as her eyes rose to the sky.

He waited for her to say something while trying to contain the beats of his heart from bursting out of his chest. Her hands rested on his jacket causing chills across his body as her obsidian eyes lowered to his olive ones. Xavier swallowed hard as he decided to be the one to break the silence before he could Wednesday spoke, “Revolting.”

“Wait what…what did I do?” He asked not being able to hold back the hurt her single word dealt.

“The way you touch yourself when you think of me.” She said unflinching not moving.

Xavier blinked hard twice as he faked a laugh, “I’ve never never done that.”

Wednesday finally rose off of him quickly turning heel while Xavier scrambled to follow. He sped up catching up to her while avoiding a tree, “I never did that! Wednesday!”

She froze her eyes wandering back to his as he stood desperately trying to hid the embarrassment that tore through him, “Your fairytales will never become reality.”

The embarrassment turned to shame and utter worthlessness. He grimaced and once she walked away he looked down at the ground. How he wished she felt the same, how that single moment was also longed for. However every time she touched him he would only revolt her like he did when she simply looked at him.

[lovebugism]

after skinny dipping at a lover’s lake alone, eddie is shocked to see someone else was there all along (reader) 🫶🏻

thank u for requesting anon! this prompt literally drove me insane! (in a good way)! — eddie falls in love with the weirdest stranger he's ever met in his life (wednesdayaddams!reader-esque, mentions of being naked, 18+ | 1.2k)

The edge of Lover’s Lake sits right outside Eddie’s trailer, partially visible through a thin treeline of bright orange oaks. He stumbles through it on graceless, lanky legs — high out of his mind, which is filled now with racing thoughts of boyish rage. 

He’s failing English (again), for one. For another, Corroded Coffin’s been bumped to Tuesday night shows instead of Friday nights (a death sentence if he ever saw one). And ever since then, Wayne’s been on his ass about working with him at the car shop (‘cause moonlight as a rockstar isn’t a real job, apparently.)

Eddie gets angrier the more he thinks about it — which is perpetually and without mercy. It makes his pale skin feel red hot, boiling to the touch, practically repelling every wisp of autumn breeze that threatens to cool him down. He wonders, briefly, if it could be the weed fucking with him. ‘Cause everything else has been today.

He stands on the grassy bank of the moonlit lake and strips off his clothes to find out. He stumbles trying to get his pants off, right after his chin gets stuck in the neck of his t-shirt. He doesn’t think to check if anyone’s around until he’s left only in his thin, navy plaid boxers.

“Free show?” a feminine, unfamiliar voice calls from the center of the pitch-black lake.

Eddie practically jumps out of his buzzing skin. His heart lurches into his throat as his palms hurry to cover his still-clothed crotch. “Shit!” he shouts, voice echoing over the empty clearing.

You don’t flinch at the volume of the voice. He can’t even tell if you’re blinking from here. You just remain in the middle of the rippling, silver water, only visible from the tops of your bare collarbones.

Eddie swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing, and tries to catch his breath. “Sorry. I— I didn’t know anyone else was out here…”

“Don’t stop on my account,” you tell him, flirtatious words that sound strangely deadpan falling from your lips. “Lover’s Lake is big enough for the both of us.”

Eddie squints into the darkness, dark eyes flitting across the water. “You’re alone?” he concludes after a few moments. 

“Usually…” you hum, lifting a naked shoulder in a lazy shrug. “…Are you?”

“Usually.”

“Want some company?” you offer, still strikingly monotoned. The strange boy with the wild hair and pale legs stammers for a response. You tilt your chin to your chest and look cautiously at him through your lashes. “…Or should I go?”

“No!” Eddie blurts, then clears his throat with a red face. Quieter, he adds, “No, it’s not that. You don’t have to go.”

A smile quirks at the edges of your lips. So faint Eddie can hardly tell it’s there. But still, it sparkles in your eyes like the moonlight does. “Just act like I’m not here,” you lilt, disappearing back into the water before Eddie can blink.

He’s not so sure how possible that is, but he gets into the water with you, anyway.

The fall season has turned the lake into silk. It’s cool and soft against his burning skin as he slowly submerges himself within its void. Eddie’s wide, attentive eyes never leave the water as he searches for your body beneath it. He follows the faint, silver ripples until they disappear completely — until he starts to worry if you’ll ever come back up again — until he starts to convince himself you were never there at all.

There’s a loud and sudden splash before him. He blinks, and your face is inches away from his own. An almost uncomfortable proximity between two strangers. “Jesus!” Eddie blurts, flailing awkwardly in fear.

“Did I scare you?” you squint, like it wasn’t totally obvious.

The boy exhales a wavering breath. “Yeah… Yeah, a little bit.”

“Sorry. Won’t happen again,” you promise with a faint smirk that tells him otherwise, as you swim slightly back from the boy ahead of you. The dark waves rise and valley at your bare chest. Eddie’s boyish mind immediately wonders exactly how bare you are underneath them. 

“Actually, it might,” you continue. “But it’ll be an accident… Probably.” 

Eddie struggles to tell if you’re joking or not — if you’re playing games with him, or if you’re just too aloof to know what you’re doing to him.

“You’re a strange… strange person,” he tells you, a half-compliment and a half-something-else, as the words tumble from his lips before he can think about them. His chocolate eyes narrow into thin slits at you. “Did you know that?”

The question’s mostly rhetorical, but you nod rapidly in response anyway.

“It’s ‘cause I’m not a person,” you confess, eyes wide and glittering with sincerity. “I’m a mermaid trapped in human form.”

“Aren’t mermaids already half-human?”

A contented noise sounds in your throat. 

“Hm… Guess I’m already halfway there, then.”

Eddie forgets to respond, and the conversation lulls. It makes the rest of the world seem terribly loud. Wind whistles through trees. Frogs croak in the tall grass. Water sloshes softly around your bodies. He gets lost in the serenity surrounding him and drowns in the chaos in your eyes.

“You have a staring problem,” you blurt. “Did you know that?”

The boy blinks rapidly to clear the haze from his glazed-over eyes. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m just—” Eddie clears his throat and shakes his head, hair damp at the edges and sticking to his freckled shoulders. “I’m just trying to figure out if you’re real, or if I just… made you up in my head or something?”

Something about that seems to please you. 

A mischievous smirk pulls slowly at the edges of your mouth — into a smile brighter than Eddie thought you were capable of. You float towards him with little effort, like two distant planets now threatening to collide. He doesn’t realize how close you are until your breath fans warm across his jaw.

“How’s this for real?” you hum quietly, leaning in like you plan to kiss him.

Eddie’s stunned still. He forgets how to breathe as his heavy eyes fall to your lips. He moves closer to you on instinct, mouth gravitating to yours despite himself — like you’re some kinda siren controlling his mind with a song he’s too far gone to hear.

Through the mist in his vision, he watches your mouth curl into a cheeky half-smirk. You look on at him, at this puddle of a boy, like you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

“You are a strange… strange boy, Eddie Munson,” you hum quietly.

Eddie shakes his head as he descends (face-plants, more like) back into reality. The water ripples faintly around you as you swim away from him. He stammers for words while you head back towards the bank. “Wait— How— How do you know my name?” the boy gapes.

Your body ascends from the silver lake, naked as the day you were born, and shining beneath the full moon. 

Water drips from your skin like diamonds as you crouch to grab your clothes, lying in a discarded pile beside the dock. The sight of your bare ass would make Eddie implode if he wasn’t already reeling.

“Sorry!” you call to him over your shoulder, with your all-black clothes balled at your chest. “Can’t hear you all the way over there!”

You never cease your stride back towards the pitch-black treeline. Eddie shouts at the back of you anyway, “How do you know my name?!”

He never gets an answer.

[lamnwar]

MDNI 18+

Daiki knows he's being stupid. A real idiot for the way he feels.

It's just a piece of fabric, for fuck's sake!

A blue silk robe you bought on your latest trip to China, handcrafted by an old artisan with so much love and talent that you didn't mind spending most of your souvenir budget on it. Something about the little details – the cloud shaped pattern on the cuffs and collar, the deep pockets that keep your hands warm, the flowers and branches embroidered in gold thread – it was too gorgeous not to buy it.

But god, does Daiki hate it. It stems entirely in his unreasonable jealousy for the cloth, his insides burning when he sees how it wraps around your body. The blue silk cord around your waist, holding it together. The way it drapes your shoulders so delicately. The way it clings to your chest, your nipples perking through the fabric.

That should be him. That should be his hands on your waist, holding you tight. That should be his fingers on your shoulders, taking in the softness of your skin. That should be his mouth around your perked nipples, sucking on them till his jaw hurts.

His cock aches in his boxers every night and morning, when you roam around the house in nothing but that blue silk robe, so carelessly doing your thing. Watering your indoor plants, choosing your outfit for the next day, making yourself a cup of hot beverage to warm your insides the same way that godforsaken robe keeps you warm outside. And then you climb in bed, your thighs that Daiki loves so much peeking out of the slit, and you lean towards him, the robe opening just enough to show your bare chest under it.

That's when he loses his mind. He can't take it anymore. He well knows he sounds insane but if Daiki could be anything, he'd be that blue silk robe. Wrapping your body and touching your skin at all times. He grunts, pulling you into a wild kiss as his fingers untie the robe in frustration.

Get out of this thing, cling to me. He's feral, and you're confused. What on Earth is your boyfriend so mad about? He's hovering you, taking the sight of your naked body, the sapphire fabric splayed under you, your hair contrasting with the colour.

Fucking you as the fabric glides under your every squirm. Oh god, you're such a beautiful thing to look at. The shine in your eyes, the sweet songs of your moans. And Daiki's big brown hands, roaming every inch of you, kneading your breasts while he pounds into you with the kind of force that makes your mind go blank. It might be the best sex you've had in a while. And he smiles, a spiteful smirk on his lips as he sees how you cling to him, that cute little voice of yours begging. More, Daiki, more! It might be that, as a personal preference, you'd take your boyfriend's skin against yours over any piece of clothing.

Daiki Aomine: 1. That stupid blue silk robe: 0.

[wesstars]

hot tea

wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: your addams just really needs some physical contact :) wc: 737 tags: established relationship. nevermore ‘university,’ all characters involved are 18+. ooc wednesday. idk something about tooth rotting fluff a/n: first wednesday drabble wednesday, in collaboration with @evilrawr! fluff has been requested by @melrodrigo. still not my strong suit but we’re going for it anyway. 

masterlist

Steam rose from the warm mug that you carefully wrapped Wednesday’s fingers around, but the heated ceramic was nothing compared to the searing lance of your grasp around her wrist. She watched as you settled yourself down on bended knee in front of her, respectfully pulling back your hands. Her own twitched, minutely. 

It hadn’t been that difficult to come knock on your door, 10 minutes before curfew was over. Wednesday knew you’d be there in your dorm, making something absurdly sweet with your—respectably contraband—electric kettle. You’d stepped aside to wordlessly let her in, and she’d taken her usual seat at the foot of your bed. Strewn around were your day’s assignments, a jacket or two, and she wrinkled her nose at the mess. Your lamps cast a gentle candle-eseque light across everything, blurring every sharp edge. The exact reason why she was in your room, well…

“Long day?” Your gaze was inquisitive but warm, as always. Wednesday watched you, taking in your socked feet and soft pants. Then, she did the Wednesday Addams equivalent of what might be considered a frustrated huff from Enid, or a desolate sigh from you: she looked away first.

The reaction was immediate, she noted absently. You tried to catch her gaze again, the slope of your shoulders and the wring of your fingers imploring her to look back at you. “Weds… talk to me?”

She took a slow sip from the mug, avoiding your eyes. To tell the truth, Wednesday was busy aching in the way that she wished you’d reach across the sea between your knee and hers. Her intense feelings were something that she typically kept locked away, not just with the protection of a key, but with a castle moat, bolted doors, and plenty of booby traps. Inside that cage lay other previously dormant feelings, ones that you managed to pull out, sharp knife to soft underbelly, with startling ease. Wednesday set her mug down on the floor, cocking her head at you. Often she’d feel a baser, visceral urge to blurt out whatever thought she had to you. Restraint was becoming more and more difficult, the more you seemed to flay yourself open in front of her for a perusal akin to autopsy.

There was a muffled thump as you got up just a bit to shift from your kneeling posture, and Wednesday couldn’t take it anymore.

She grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling tightly until you were about nose to nose. Her mind knew that your actual body temperature wasn’t that high, even lower than the average, but her cold heart felt the bone-deep bonfire of your proximity as your hands slammed into the bed next to her thighs, preventing you from tumbling into her. You took a sharp breath, a fateful one, as it seemed to pull all the oxygen from the room, leaving Wednesday blissfully bereft of that life force. She didn’t need it, anyway; she was convinced she could sustain herself on the dilating of your pupils, the flickering of your eyes down to her lips.

“Come here.” Wednesday’s voice came out in a rasp, but she reasoned with herself—it was the best she could do after you yanked the air out of her still lungs. That ache of absence turned into a yawning chasm, reserve and restraint tumbling down into that eager maw. Her demand fell into that same ravine, eclipsed by the endless depth of darkness.

You stood from your position to sit on the bed as soon as the plea left her, and Wednesday was impressed at your speed. You pulled her into your arms not a beat later. Everything smelled like a faint mix of linen and honey, between your sweater and your tea, and something in it brought Wednesday’s world to a halt. The skin of your collar was warm against the tip of Wednesday’s nose, grounding like the nip of winter air. The two of you fell easily into your sheets, and Wednesday’s mind finally felt like it had found the smoking gun for the investigation. It settled like a content cat right in her diaphragm, making it easy to breathe you in.

“Is this what you wanted?” Your voice, already sleepy, sent vibrations down Wednesday’s spine. She hummed back, leaning her temple up against your shirt and letting her head fall onto your chest. You didn’t say a word more; you didn’t need to.

--

a/n cont'd: so... playing with words… what do we think :0

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Previous part here

Words: 4,362 Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language (duh, it's Negan), references to past violence, references to traumatic events, fear and anxiety, mentions of illness and mentions of character death (Lucille), sexual content Summary: Having healed up from Dante's attack, Y/N pays Negan a visit. A/N: This is the last part in this series. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It's always bittersweet to conclude a series, but opens the door for more new writing. <3 Looking forward to more Negan in the future! <3 Thanks for reading!

Why were you so nervous? You were wringing your hands as you climbed the steps of the apartment building and let yourself inside the outer door. Your heart was fluttering in your chest like a moth around a lamp. You chewed on your bottom lip as you headed down the hallway and stopped in front of a door with a shiny brass “4.”

You pulled in a deep breath and knocked, shifting a bit nervously as you waited for a response. You didn’t have to wait long. Negan pulled the door open with a curious expression which quickly grew into a relaxed smile when he saw you standing there in front of him. The light in his hazel eyes took you aback.

“Hey, doll. Well, isn’t this a nice fucking surprise?”

“Hi,” you greeted him. “Is now a bad time?” you asked, laughing a little, nodding toward the paint splotches on his gray t-shirt.

“Not at all,” he smiled. “Anytime is a good time for you. Come on in,” he said.

Negan stepped back to invite you inside. “Thanks,” you replied, crossing the threshold. Your heart was still racing more than it should. Negan closed the door behind you and followed you up the hall. “Doing some redecorating?” you asked, stopping in the living room. You could see old sheets draped over some furniture in the next room and a few brushes sitting out on a paint can.

Negan swept a hand back through his hair. “I’m sure you’ll be surprised to hear this, but I’m not really a flowered wallpaper kind of guy,” he said. “I found some decent supplies so I thought I might as well make this place a little more mine.”

You paced over to the doorway and peeked into the next room. The walls were freshly painted with a deep, dark blue. “Mmm,” you hummed, nodding. “Bit different than your last digs. And the ones before that…”

“Different is a good word.” He sighed suddenly and you looked back at him. “Fuck me, it’s good to see you,” he said. “You’ve got no idea how good. I didn’t realize it but I really got used to seeing you at least at every meal,” he said. You watched his eyes drift up to the fresh scar on your forehead, to the still healing split in your bottom lip, and then down to the fading bruises on your neck. His smile faltered a little at the sight and you thought you saw a faint flicker of anger in his eyes.

“Are you going through withdrawal?” you teased him, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Are you implying that I’m an addict and you’re my drug?” he asked in a deep voice. He watched your eyes widen a little and then crinkle in a smile as you held in a laugh.

“Maybe. Is that… accurate?” you asked with a hesitant laugh.

Negan pulled in a deep breath and there was some ember burning in his hazel eyes as he let it out slowly, his attention a bit intense as it was fixed on you. “Maybe,” he said in a low voice, gravel on the edge of it. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at you again. You registered the lean but strong muscles of his forearms. They were peppered with tattoos, revealed by his gray t-shirt. You felt a burst of warmth in the middle of your chest.

You ducked his gaze (chicken…) and found yourself nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner. Things have been busy with the council since Dante, um—‘opted out’,” you said. “And then I’ve still been having some symptoms, so… resting a lot.” You still felt a wave of fear and a cold chill every time you thought of the doctor who had nearly killed you. Sometimes you had nightmares about him bending over you, the look on his face, the feeling of being totally helpless as you struggled, of actively knowing your life was drifting away under his hands. Negan’s voice pulled you from that dark trail of thoughts.

“You don’t have apologize to me, darlin’. I’m just glad you’re here at all,” he said softly. “Did they figure out how he punched his ticket?”

“Not for certain. But Siddiq suspects a cyanide capsule or something similar from what they saw when they found him dead in the cell. Daryl had searched him right after—after I was in the clinic when he went to question him. He didn’t find anything, but something that small would be easy to hide.” Negan nodded, his brow knit and expression serious. “I just wish we knew why he—why he wanted Alexandria to fall so badly. Everyone here was nothing but kind to him. There were no clues about it at all.”

Negan nodded. “I don’t think that fuckwad was ever gonna talk,” he said seriously. “And I’m real glad he’s dead. I might have gotten into trouble again putting his limp-dick, coward ass down myself after what he did to you,” he growled. You could see his hazel eyes darken with rage again as he thought about Dante’s attack. And there was a deeper emotion bubbling beneath the anger, something he hadn’t yet even fully admitted to himself.

“Well—” you ripped your gaze from his, ducking your head once again (double chicken…), a soft pout on your lips, “better you don’t get in trouble again, Negan. You’ve only just gotten out.”

“I’m guessing I have you to thank for that,” Negan said. “At least, in part.”

“First of all, you have yourself to thank for that. People are seeing how you’ve changed. Secondly, I withdrew from the vote. Seemed like a… minor conflict of interest considering it was my life that you saved,” you explained.

Negan nodded. “How close was the vote?” he laughed.

You smiled at him. “Not as close as you’d think,” you said. Negan would have to accept that as an answer. You paced around his scantily furnished living room and looked into the kitchen. He hadn’t been in the new space long, only since you’d left the clinic which was perhaps a week and a half ago. Before that, he’d pretty much refused to leave your side and Michonne had given in and not asked him to return to the cell once Dante had… vacated it.

You were curious to see how he’d make the apartment his as he got settled. He did have some of the shelves stocked with books already, including the ones you’d given to him when he was still in the cell. You looked through them, running your fingers over the leatherbound spines, tilting a couple down to look at the covers. Negan watched you from his spot leaning up against the doorway. He liked the sight of you here, looking relaxed and (in his opinion) like you belonged. It was a sight he could get fucking used to. You suddenly glanced back at him and smiled, perhaps even blushing a little as you realized his eyes were on you. “Are you being nice to the neighbors?” you asked, pacing over to the couch and sitting down, sinking into it and making yourself at home.

“Neighbors?” he laughed. “I’m pretty fuckin’ sure Michonne purposely put me into an empty building. Not too many people want the big bad wolf living next door,” he said.

“Well, maybe that’s for the best,” you admitted. “For you and for them.”

“Oh, absolutely. I plan to be downright vile and filthy in here. It’s gonna be my hedonistic bachelor pad,” he joked. “Interested?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “At least you’re honest in your advertising,” you retorted.

His teasing smile faded and then he was staring at you again with that look on his face, the one that was so soft it raised goosebumps on your skin. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. You felt your face flushing again. “What?” you asked him, one of your eyebrows lifting.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just like the sight of you on my couch.” He straightened up. “In fact, I’ve got just the fucking thing for the occasion…”

You watched curiously as he went into the kitchen and quickly came back with a wine bottle in hand and two glasses. “Where the hell did you get wine?” you asked as he sank down beside you on the couch.

“Doll, I’d think you would have realized by now how resourceful I am,” he smiled, popping the cork. He was just pouring the second glass when he stopped, knitting his brow. “Wait—should you be drinking this after what happened? How’s your noggin’ doin’?” he asked, looking suddenly deeply concerned.

“It’s been two weeks. One or two glasses won’t kill me,” you replied. “I won’t tell Siddiq if you won’t…”

“Oh, thank fuckin’ God. I’m clearly only plying you with alcohol to lower your inhibitions for some freaky deaky,” he joked, giving you another amused glance.

“Negan!” you scolded him, feeling your face grow hot yet again.

“Too much?” he laughed. “I’m kidding of course, doll. The truth is… I—I think I’ve got you up on too high of a pedestal to ever try something like that.” He handed you a glass and you were giving him a queer look. He only smiled. That damn charming, wolfish smile that made your stomach flip.

“What are we drinking to?” you asked him.

“How about—and I know this is fucking cheesy but—new beginnings?” he offered, still smiling at you, his hazel eyes flickering over your face.

“I’ll drink to that,” you said softly. You clinked your glass against his and took a sip, settling in deeply to the cushions. Negan watched your smile fade and his brow drew downwards, low over his eyes. The hazel seemed to darken toward brown flecked with gold.

“Something on your mind, doll?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Not really. Just—sometimes it still hits me how close I came to dying that day. And—and when I was fading… instead of seeing the faces of people I loved, I could only look up and see him. You know how people say their life flashes before their eyes when they think they’re about to die? Or they’ll see their loved ones smiling at them, remember good memories? That—that didn’t happen for me,” you mused. “I could only see him. And feel the complete overwhelming fear and powerlessness.”

There was a long silence where you stared down into the deep plum color of the wine in your glass and you twirled it in your hands. “Oh, well… It’s over now,” you sighed. When you were brave enough to look up at Negan again, you were shocked to find that his eyes were glassy, seemingly brimming with tears.

He wet his lips thoughtfully and then sighed, setting his glass aside on the small table in front of the couch. “My wife—the only real one—her name was Lucille,” he said. “I was a complete prick to her—useless as far as being a good fuckin’ husband. I cheated on her. Spent money we didn’t have. Lost my job. But she—she was the real thing. Beautiful and smart and fiery and kind. I didn’t deserve her.” His voice was deep and laced with feeling. “She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer…”

Your heart ached. His breath was shaky as he went on. It was staggering to hear this near mythical man’s deep voice laced with such tender feeling and regret.

“The world turned when she was in the middle of her treatment. I kept her going as long as I could, finding the medicines she needed and delivering her doses of chemo but—” he shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed. “In the end, I couldn’t help her anymore.” His voice broke as he went on, his eyes shining with tears. “I—I couldn’t do the one damn thing she asked of me at the end. She was ready to go and she wanted me to be... She—she asked me to stay and just be with her until the end and I couldn’t do the last of what she fucking asked me to do. I went running off after medicine which wouldn’t do a goddamn thing for her.” He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and drew in a long, steadying breath, blinking away the tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. “I was helpless to stop it.” He looked right at you, meeting your vibrant eyes, empathetic and concerned, with his own. It felt as if he’d cracked himself open to the core at that moment and your heart started to race. He reached for your hand and you startled a little at his touch, pulling your eyes from his and looking down as he smoothed his thumb over the silkiness of the skin on the back of your hand and then over the lines of your palm, much as he had that day in the cell, when he’d saved you those raspberries… Your heart was pounding as he spoke again, your breath stolen. His voice pulled your eyes back to his.

“When you fell that day, right in front of me but basically unreachable on the other side of those bars… and then when he came in—” Negan gulped and shook his head. “I felt that same fucking helplessness all over again. I felt the same terror that I wasn’t going to be able to do a damn thing. I can’t even put into words how fucking scared I was that I was going to lose you right in front of me.”

You had to remind yourself to breathe as he went on.

“It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve actually wanted anything. Except maybe to die or get out of that fucking cell. Until you came along, darlin’.” Negan’s eyes flitted down to your lips and back up to your eyes.

You found yourself nearly frozen as he clasped your face in his and caressed your cheek, his eyes searching yours. You felt the soft pout of your lips part just a little on their own, without thought. It was driving Negan crazy. He tilted your head slightly down and your eyes fluttered shut as he placed a kiss on your forehead beside the new pink scar and still fading bruising. His thumb traced along your jaw as his fingertips wrapped delicately around the nape of your neck. His eyes drifted down to the faint yellow and brown bruises from the doctor’s hands. Negan’s head tilted and he leaned in to kiss the side of your neck and then the front of your throat and then the other side. You felt like an electric shock ran through you at the touch of his lips, soft and tender, but heating you through. You couldn’t stop the breathy exhale that left you as he pulled away and met your eyes again, his hand resting on the side of your neck and his eyes searching your face.

His eyes flitted down to your lips again, perhaps settling on the now healed split in your bottom one. There was something pleading in the way he was looking at you, but somehow still dominant or powerful. You couldn’t quite find the right word… Like it was possible that he could consume you like the flames of a wildfire, but you knew he wouldn’t, at least not entirely. You felt nearly lightheaded despite having had perhaps two sips of your wine.

“You missed a spot,” you whispered to him… and he smiled. And it crinkled the corners of his eyes and set them alight. And the last of your reservations and hesitancy fell away as he leaned in, more hurriedly this time, and kissed you, tipping your chin up so your lips met his.

He kissed you with an unmistakable fire and need and you found yourself melting under his touch, yielding to his hands as they combed through your hair, tangling into it, and slipped down to grip your shoulders and smooth over the bare skin on your arms.

You reached for him and arched into his waiting body, your arms looping around his neck. Your fingers found their way into his hair as you kissed him back more heatedly, giving in to the need you too felt. The need to be touched and kissed and held by him, the need and desire you’d been warring with inside yourself since you’d felt that first spark of attraction months and months ago. Negan wrapped an arm around you and pressed the small of your back toward his body, tugging you against him, and smiling as you returned the kiss with more and more heat. He let out a hum and then a low chesty growl as your teeth dragged over his bottom lip and you fought him for more dominance.

“Easy, doll,” he warned you, separating just enough to speak. “Have you got any idea what you’re toying with right now?” he laughed. The man had hardly been touched in years and with every passing second, he wanted more and more to completely collide with you.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘doll’?” you asked, your voice breathy and low. You pulled back and met his eyes again and they were lust blown and starry, as you were sure yours were… but there was something else in them too. Some other something like tenderness. Heat was pooling in your chest and your heart was beating so hard and fast you were sure he could hear it.

Negan smiled. “I thought that had grown on you, but I guess we’ll have to find something more suitable,” he replied. He pulled back just a little and bit his bottom lip, considering you, that damn smile still on his face. “Hmm…” he hummed thoughtfully. “What do you want, baby?” His voice was deep and smooth as he said it, and you had a feeling the jerk knew exactly what that word would do to you.

A small smile started on your lips and then grew into a wide, jubilant one. Your arms were still around his neck “I want you to fucking kiss me again,” you said.

And he was more than happy to oblige, crashing his lips against yours in an almost bruising kiss. He could faintly taste red wine on your tongue and soon you were straddling over his hips on his lap, your hands clasping his face and running through his hair, drifting down to press a palm flat to his chest, his muscles rippling under your fingers. His hands drifted over the angles of your back and down to the curves of your hips and buttocks as he hummed into the kiss. Soon his hands hooked under your knees and he tipped you onto your back on the couch, suddenly leaning over you, caging you beneath him.

Both of you broke for a moment to catch your breath and Negan again kissed your forehead and your neck. His lips drifted across the scattered bruises there up to your jawline and then back to your lips. He pulled back again and caught your eyes, his expression intense but searching. “Is this too much too soon?” he asked you.

You smiled up at him again, still catching your breath. “Fuck no,” you breathed.

“Thank fuckin’ God,” he growled, before capturing you in a kiss again.

It didn’t take long before you were tugging his t-shirt over his head and he was freeing you of yours with an urgency of a man starved. He lifted you from the couch to press your skin to his as he peppered more kisses over your neck and down your collarbone, his fingers leaving hot trails on your skin.

Soon, the two of you were just flushed skin and crashed together completely, moving seamlessly with one another. Negan’s attention was intense and electric and it wasn’t long before he was pulling sinful and blissful sounds from you and you from him, your softness and curves driving him wild, every roll of your hips dragging him closer and closer to the edge. As you neared your peak and his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, his fingers laced between yours, and the only things you could hear were your own pounding heart and his ragged breathing as the two of you crashed over your highs together.

“Fuck me, baby girl,” he growled, burying his face against your neck and into your hair and breathing in your smell. He felt like his heart was about to burst.

You let out a light laugh. “I just did,” you purred into his ear.

He pulled back, chuckling, and smiled down at you beneath him. “You ain’t wrong,” he said, smoothing some sweaty strands of your hair away from your face. He leaned in and kissed you softly this time, gently. “Fuck,” he sighed, sweeping a hand back through his hair and separating his heated skin from yours. He reached for a blanket folded over the back of a chair beside the couch and spread it over you, hooking a hand under your legs and laying them over his lap.

You were chewing on your thumbnail, a little stunned and bashful suddenly as you looked up at him.

“You need anything?” he asked you, smiling at the blush in your cheeks. “Glass of water? Towel? Lobotomy?”

You laughed and cocked an eyebrow at him. “Lobotomy?!”

“Yeah,” he said, chuckling. His hands drifted over your legs and drew circles on your hot skin absently. They smoothed down to give you a gentle foot rub as he looked over at you. “Because you must be out of your tits to fuck Alexandria’s Most Hated… I can’t believe you did that. Someone is going to have to give you a talking to.”

You shot him a half-amused look and rolled your eyes. “God, you’re right… What the fuck am I doing here?” you joked, starting to pull away from him and stand up.

“Nuh uh uh!” he laughed, catching you around the waist and tugging you back against him. “I am nowhere near done with you, baby,” he growled into your ear. Your top teeth dented into the pillow of your bottom lip. “How about we go get you cleaned up in a nice hot shower… and then get absolutely filthy again?” he asked, kissing your neck.

Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“And then you’re staying the night with me,” he murmured, brushing your hair to one side and kissing down your neck and shoulder.

“Oh, I am?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely, you are,” he said. “I want to hold you until the sun comes up. It’ll be the first good night of sleep I’ve had in six fucking years.”

You smiled to yourself. “Mmm… I guess that sounds okay,” you teased him, feigning indifference.

“‘Okay’?” he growled. “Oh, darlin’, you shouldn’t have said that…”

You let out a surprised peal of laughter as he lifted you into his arms and headed for the bathroom.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You awoke gently to sun filtering in through sheer curtains, staining the whole room a shade of medium blue. Negan’s warmth and weight was tucked up behind you, his arm draped over your waist. He rolled onto his back beside you as you stirred and you turned over to look up at him. Your hand landed in the middle of his chest and he gave you a peculiar look, a cautious smile on his handsome face.

“Morning,” you said, tucking yourself in against him more tightly, soaking in his warmth.

“Good morning,” he replied. You could feel the deep reverberation of his voice beneath your palm. “You doin’ alright, darlin’?” he asked.

“Hmm? Why wouldn’t I be?” you asked, a soft frown tugging at your lips.

“Well, I think part of me still expected you to roll over this morning and freak out at who was playing the big spoon,” he said.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and fixed a concerned expression on your face, looking up at him. “We’re going to have to work on your self-image, Negan,” you said. It pulled a laugh from him.

“Oh, are we, babe?”

“Yes!” you said seriously. “You have so much to offer. You’re more than your past.”

He sighed and gave you a more sincere, somewhat dreamy smile. “If you keep saying it, I might just believe it someday. Come here,” he said, pulling you back against him. You settled down under his arm, his hand landing on the dip of your waist. You tucked in against the crook of his neck. “Hey—one thing though. You can’t tell Daryl what we did on the couch last night. Or against the wall of the shower. Or at the side of the bed. Or the foot of the bed. Or—”

“Negan,” you sighed.

He laughed. “I’m just saying—he’s got this whole protective brother thing going on with you and I would like to remain alive and intact.”

“I can’t believe we’re in bed together right now and you’re bringing up Daryl,” you retorted.

“Hmm. That’s a fair point. Should we add another to my list of offenses?” he said, his hand drifting down to your thigh beneath the covers.

You laughed, heat already flushing in your chest and face. “Several, I think…”

“Several? You’ve got it, baby doll…” The End

[crazyoffher]

HDMI.

warnings: smut drabble -> dom!jenna, sub!r

-

“Fucking spilling all over the sheets, mm? Drenching up a bed that doesn’t even belong to you,” the rasp that laid in Jenna’s voice, mixed with the sweetly rough thrusts that she was giving you, a hand on your head pushing your face into the pillow, you called it heaven. “The rage that’ll reek out of your ex when he finds out I made you cum, over and over, on his bed.”

The appaling idea alone left you drenched, brain rotted when Jenna fixed the strap further into your gaping cunt and left you moaning into the pillow, saliva drenching your sweating face. A moan hurled out of your mouth, gagging and mumbling incoherently as Jenna shoved two fingers into your mouth. “Keep quiet, baby. Don’t want our friends to hear, right? You know they’re just a wall away from us.”

You nodded your head, fighting hard against the moans that itched to come out the more Jenna thrusted into you, one hand on your head keeping your face down, and the other gripped against your hip, keeping your ass up and all ready just for her. The arch on your back grew; the shrewdness of the situation made you the horniest you’d ever been, and you relished in it.

A large gasp escaped your throat when Jenna’s hand closed in on your hair, pulling your head up as she bent over your frame. “Let me see you, let me see that beautiful face.” Her hand snaked over your face to grip your chin and turn your head, bruising your face the longer she held on. “Such a dirty girl, my dirty girl. You understand that?”

Her head rested against yours while she held her knees up slightly, taking advantage of the new angle to bury her entire strap into you and thrust harder. “You’re all mine. Only I can use you for what you really are,” and if possible, her grip on your chin became even harsher, “a dirty fucking cockwhore.”

She worked quick. She always did. That left you no time to react as she pulled out, flipping you over and attaching one hand to your neck and the other back into your hair. Your legs locked on her waist, just above her thighs and shaking as Jenna pushed her strap back into your throbbing hole. A high-pitched whine left your drooling mouth from the restriction of air, eyes screwing shut when the roughness and fast pace of her thrusts returned.

You made eye contact, Jenna’s favorite thing to do when you were under her—second to spitting on your face and thumbing it all around—because it allowed her to see your face, the reactions you gave off to her making you feel so good. That glint in your eyes, one that you always had, let her know that she was the only one that would ever get the pleasure of fucking you the way you loved it.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can see it on that pretty face, baby.” You nodded your head, eyes rolling back at the pain Jenna inflicted by roughly pulling your head back by your hair. She burrowed the strap deeper into your cunt thrust by thrust, taking the head out momentarily to rub against your untouched clit before sending your body back into shockwaves.

“Mmm, only you can make me feel so good.” Your voice was scratchy, given Jenna’s hand placement, but it didn’t stop you from giving her what she wanted to hear. “Only me?”

“Only you.” Your hands made their way to her shoulders, nails digging into her smooth skin because you could feel yourself on the edge. “Make me cum? Can I come?”

The grin she sent your way ran shivers down your spine. “Not yet, baby. Hold on for me.” Her hand left your neck to slap against your mouth, muffling the loud moans extracted from you when she thrusted faster and impossibly harder. Holding back became harder for you, and your eyes pleaded at her for some sake of mercy. Jenna cocked her head to the side, giving you a smug smile before removing her hand and kissing your swollen lips with the same passion that sent your mind spiraling on normal days.

She granted you the words you wanted to hear, and the words that she loved for the sake of her control over you. “Cum all over my cock, baby.” She locked your lips again as you finally untensed, moaning into her mouth and digging your nails down her back as that final wave of ecstasy washed over you. Your thighs were soaked, manuevering to hold Jenna’s face in your palms as she gave you one more kiss.

“Look at the mess you made, all over me and these sheets, hon.” She pushed your weakened body up against the headboard of the bed, and you got a visual of how much of a mess you had created. “‘Cause I make you feel so good, yeah?”

“Yes, Jen.” You reached forward to lock into another kiss, shoulders tensing when her bony hands ran up your face and fisting a ball of your hair into her palm.

“Now clean it all up.”

☟

hey guys :p

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - unhealthy relationships, financial abuse, reader is implied to be a sugar-baby/sex worker, unbalanced power dynamics.

Mei is a woman who can put a price on anything.

You've seen her talents first-hand. Hell, you'd only gotten together in the first place because she decided you were a commodity worth the expense, or in her words, because 'you'd be more valuable with me than anywhere else'. Some of her earliest gifts were little more to foder to prove that she had enough wealth stowed away to not only afford you, but make you hers exclusively - skin-tight diamond chokers, ornate harnesses strung with crystals and pearls, rings studded with pale sapphires that were nearly too heavy to lift. You'd kept the pricetags from everything she gave you in a drawer in your shoebox of an apartment, and as a show of kinship, she decided to keep you.

Really, you could only be thankful you fell into the hands of someone so appreciative. As someone so easy to buy, you can't think of a customer more suited to you than Mei.

Your relationship's too far along for her to be so blatant with her intentions, now, carrying a pretense of affection that means she can't slip you a stack of bills and tell you, in no uncertain terms, that you'll be spending the night with her, but she still finds ways to mark you, to make sure she's always going to be the majority shareholder of your time. All your clothes are tailor-made, her initials embroidered into everything she has designed for you, and you can't remember the last time you wore a scent that she hadn't personally selected. She's careful with what she owns, but not so careful that she isn't willing to offer you tens of thousands of yen to wear the lipstick stain she left on the side of your throat like a designer product. She has a jealous streak, despite how indifferent she tries to act. That, or she just doesn't like it when other people tamper with her investments.

It's become an ongoing joke between the two of you - her possessive habits and your attempts to provoke them. You'll straddle her thigh and slot your chest against hers and pout as you ask how much she thinks the white-haired man across the room would offer for an hour with you, and she'll purse her lips and assure you that none of her 'coworkers' could afford such a gem. Once or twice, you've managed to pester a real answer out of her, always something in the millions and delivered in a clipped tone that meant it was time to stop asking, but more often, she'll take you by the hips and ask you if you plan on replacing her so callously. It's a fair reaction. You can't say she's ever made you think you might be up for sale.

When you can't bite back your curiosity, you drape yourself across her and ask how much she would give up to have you permanently, to keep you at her beck and call without having to stifle herself with allowances and borrowed platinum cards. She likes that question, practically purrs as she promises that, to her, you're priceless. It should be more comforting than it is, but somehow, you can't shake the implication that it's something she's considered, that if there was an amount she could forward to some unknown account, she would've done it long before you'd ever made the offer. You're glad she came to the conclusion she did. You're glad that, no matter how entitled she acts to every fiber of your being, every second of your time, she knows she'll never actually own you.

You're glad that, if she changed her mind, if she ever put a price on your head and decided it was worth the loss, she's kind enough not to tell you that you've already been paid for.

[woewriting]

bloodlines

pairing: wednesday addams | vampire reader word count: 1595 warnings: mdni, +18 only! blood mention/drinking, reader's a vampire duh, no pronouns used, thigh riding, small master x pet dynamics at the end. a/n: first wdw in weeks... just a small thing for my vampire fellas.

masterlist

Your leg bounced up and down, the almost inaudible sound of the heel of your shoes hitting the wooden floor annoying the girl sitting next to you on the bed, the movements of your legs and the way you chewed on your bottom lip enough to get her annoyed.

Closing the book, Wednesday turned to you, eyes alternating between the irritating move and your features.

“Can you stop with that infuriating sound? It’s distracting me.”

“Uh?” You look at Wednesday, eyes darting from yours to your bouncing leg in a silent answer. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice it.”

“Now that you do, stop it.”

“I can’t control it.”

Wednesday took a deep breath, bringing her hand to rest on top of your knee, forcing you to stop. Somehow, your leg was still shaking under her touch and now, a heatwave spread inside your body at the sudden touch, a bright red color threatening to take over your vision, a sharp pain in your gums.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths and trying to take control over your instincts. But Addams being so close to you with her almost unnoticeable perfume and hand on your thigh, it was hard and any small thing coming from her was enough to get you to lose control.

“You’re starving, aren’t you?” All you could do was nod, not wanting her to see the sharp fangs that sunk on the inside of your mouth. Removing her hand from your leg, you felt a weight being placed on top of your body instead. “Open your eyes, let me take a look at them.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“I wasn’t asking. Open them now and look at me.”

Despise the calming way she spoke, her words and demanding tone were enough to get you to do as you were told, unable to resist the smell she had; It was like a spell placed on you.

Wednesday brought her hands to your face, opening your lips to see the sharp fangs you were hiding, pressing the tip of a finger under one, a single drop of raven blood poking out of the small wound was enough to cover your lower lip with her movement.

“Wends…” You warned with a hoarse voice, controlling the impulse to lick the sweet blood off of your lip.

The dark, silky sheets under your hands ripping off around your nails, stopping you from digging the skin of her waist. Knowing Wednesday, she would definitely make you pay for a new set.

Ignoring the warning timbre in your voice, Wednesday opened her white blouse, dragging the fabric away from her shoulder area along with the strip of her bra.

“Take it.”

“No.”

“If you want to keep that snarky tongue of yours, I suggest you to stop fighting and just do as I am telling you to.”

The second you focused on the cold, pale skin, of her neck, everything around you turned red, melting as you caught the sound of her blood flowing through her body, the steady pace of her heartbeat, muffling every small sound that surrounded the both of you.

All you could hear, see and smell, came from the small girl sitting on your lap. And that was all that matters.

The red, warm, sweet blood that kept her alive. The blood of a Raven, Wednesday being the last one of her bloodline known to you.

Noticing the lack of motion coming from your frozen body, the Addams girl gently tugged you by the back of your head, bringing you closer to her.

“Take it.” She whispered; fingers lost in your hair. “It’s all yours.”

“All mine…” You replied, lost in your red reality, barely processing what left her lips, all you could hear, loud and clear, was the pumping of her jugular, the sweet blood rushing through her veins.

Leaning in, your nose brushed on the cold skin, taking a deep breath. The ghostly touch causing the other to close her eyes. You opened your mouth, enough for the tip of your tongue to touch her, a surprised sigh coming from Wednesday.

“I profoundly hate when you do that.”

“Are you sure? Because I can hear every beat of your heart.” You placed a kissed near her collarbones. “And the way your thighs are pressing against mine.” Another kiss, a little bit higher.

“Stop talking. It’s an order.”

You laughed against her, hands slowly moving from the silky sheets to her thighs. “You’re in no place to boss me around, Addams.”

“I thought you enjoyed being my little pet.”

“I enjoy more when you’re my prey.”

Looking into your eyes, Wednesday could barely see the color of it, dark red mixed with golden strings covering most of your iris, pupils dilated in a black color. The veins under your eyes, disappearing and appearing as if it was following the beat of a music, little did she know it was synchronized with her own heartbeat.

It always felt like that, to be under her spell, if felt paralyzing, something in the way Wednesday smelled and tasted like, so sweet it was like drinking honey.

For her, having your teeth sinking in her neck, poison spreading through your saliva turning the pain into pleasure in just a few seconds. She would never admit, but being your personal blood bag made the pain settle in between her thighs.

She needed you as much as you needed her.

Why else would she sit on your lap and keep you around? Allowing you to follow every single step of hers like a lost puppy, holding you on a tight leash, stopping you from biting others like a misbehaved puppy.

Gulping, she licked her lips, your eyes following every single movement of her body. She felt like an addicted waiting for the next jet of poison, it’s been days since the last time you fed on her.

“Did you drink from somebody else?” You shook your head. You tried to, actually, blood bags, human blood straight from the vein, animal blood that you captured with Eugene’s help; they all tasted like garbage. “Then why are you refusing to do as I tell you to?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

A small grin tugged on her lips. “I want you to hurt me.”

A gush of adrenaline ran in the veins under your eyes the second you heard her whisper, eyes filled with a specific glow that you almost never see in Wednesday: excitement.

The moment your fangs dug in the cold skin, a low moan escaped between Wednesday’s parted lips, the fingers in your hair pulling you impossible closer. The hot, thick red liquid filled your mouth, the iron taste almost unnoticeable, being replaced by a sweet taste that only she had.

Throwing her head back in an attempt to give you more access to her neck, she didn’t even notice that small rhythm her hips were following against your legs, rubbing herself on you. Her scent, stronger than ever, filling every centimeter of your lungs like smoke.

Moving your hands to her hips, you bruised the covered skin as you helped her steady movements. Opening her lips to take a deep breath soon became a breathless moan, your name escaping her parted lips as you drank more and more from her, the poison spreading through her veins as you lick the open wound, capturing what escaped from your hungry mouth before biting her again.

Wednesday was weak in your arms, the hot feeling in the pit of her stomach getting hotter and hotter as she rounded her hips on your leg, a wet stain on the fabric of your jeans as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head and body falling back, being held by your hands.

Switching positions, you laid the small girl on her bed, dark silky sheets embracing her body as you laid on top of her to lick around her neck, not wasting a single drop of the precious blood that you couldn’t go without.

Kissing your way up to her face, Addams still had her eyes closed, a fainted reddish color spread on her cheeks as she came down from her high. When she opened her eyes, she was met with your golden ones, shining like a star in the night sky. She caressed your face, thumb swiping your lips to collect the thick liquid that covered them before gently sucking on them, maintaining the eye contact; a satisfied hum in her throat.

“Kiss me. I want to taste my blood on your tongue.”

As she commanded, you connected your lips together in a kiss that was soft at first, turning to bruising and desperate as her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, lips wrapping around your tongue to get more of it before she breaks the kiss, hands moving to your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused, as she tried to push you down, but you, being stronger than her, didn’t move an inch.

“I need your tongue somewhere else, and I need it now, so be a good pet and collaborate with me.”

Wednesday was nearly screaming inside, her weak body in desperate need of you, one of the collateral damages from your poison. And the way you smelled, the way your hands touch her body, it was a lot more than just the venom that rushed in her veins, there was something else in the brownish glow that stared at you. You smiled.

“As you wish, master.”

[sugarrazz]

I would like to please request stone top Wednesday x fem reader please :) maybe where Wednesday hurts the readers feelings in some way and makes it up to her or maybe the reader is being bratty and Wednesday brat tames her thank you!!!

Thank you for the follow up info anon! Since getting back into writing I’ve been trying to expand my knowledge of terms and I love learning anything I can from you guys. I’m sorry if this doesn’t depict the vision you had in mind but I hope you enjoy it! 🙂

I’ll Make it Up To You / stone top!Wednesday x fem!reader

Notes: nsfw, sex, stone top, wlw, pillow princess reader, wednesday apologizes to reader with sex, fingering, cumming, hickeys, a bit of crying at the start, wednesday making a mess of you, not letting you touch yourself, cumming, she’s a bit rough with the fingering at the end, wednesday eats your cum and shares it with you

“I hope my consolations will make up for your downheartedness.”

You found yourself pinned under Wednesday, whose words served as a sort of apology for her behavior towards you. This morning she snapped at you and told you to fuck off, sending you crying back to your dorm to be comforted by your roommate. Enid, of course, gave Wednesday a piece of her mind which is what led her to pay you a little visit while your roommate went on a date to Jericho with her boyfriend. She assigned Thing to keep watch at the door and keep any unwanted guests away.

“I’ll make it up to you. Like this.”

Her voice was monotone but her eyes held concern for your well-being. She wanted to ensure her actions made up for hurting you. Because when she saw you sprint down the hall, tears streaming down your rosy cheeks, a sliver of her black heart felt a pang of heartbreak. So here she was, leaving purple marks up and down your neck, inciting whimpers that crawled out of your throat. The feeling of her cold lips on your skin drove you nuts and gave you shivers down your spine. She will make sure you forgive her.

Her bitter hands roamed your body while her mouth was busy, leaving nothing untouched. Her hand snaked its way under your shirt, unclasping your bra and swiping it off, in one swift motion. You gasped as you felt her pinch and rub your nipples, making them harden. The feeling left you a bit dizzy, and you sank further into the mattress, enjoying the effect she had on you, your pussy starting to throb, impatiently waiting to be touched. You reached your hand down to touch yourself but Wednesday pulled it away.

“You’re not allowed to relieve yourself.”

She said, her articulation low and dominating. She knew you wanted to rush to the main event, and it made you even hornier than she was teasing you. As punishment, Wednesday ripped off your shirt, to which you squeaked. Amid your complaint that you will have to purchase a new uniform, her mouth latched on to one of your nipples, shutting you up for now. She gazed up at your face through her bangs, staring at you hungrily. Her gaze made you blush, and your cunt throbbed even harder for her. “Wedns, p-please touch me..” “Touch you where?” Her eyes glanced at you mockingly, wanting to hear you say it. “Please touch my wet little pussy.” Your eyes diverted from hers, you were embarrassed out of your mind.

Pleased with your answer, Wednesday frees your nipples from her torture. She slips off your skirt and panties, purposely grazing your folds in the process. Your body leaned into the touch, begging for more. She slipped a finger in as deeply as she could go and arched it, rubbing against the rough skin of your g-spot. You couldn’t hold it in any longer as your pussy dripped freely now, and you whined as she picked up the pace. Your juices trickled down your ass cheeks, pooling underneath your quaking form. As Wednesday puts more fingers in, you hurriedly spread your legs, inviting her further inside.

“It delights me so much to see you spread open like this.”

Her other hand was twiddling with your clit, speeding up the process of the knot forming in your stomach. You felt euphoric as you leaned your head back, the sound of your drenched pussy and moans bouncing off the walls of the room, sure to be heard from outside.

Suddenly, Wednesday pulls her fingers out of you. You groan disapprovingly, about to ask her why she stopped before you find out. She demands you get into a doggy-style position and you curiously comply, wobbling because you were about to cum. Without warning, she rams her fingers into your pussy, and your juices leak out immediately as your warmth enthusiastically takes her in. You whine, pressing your legs together which squeezes your pussy out, making it a tight fit for Wednesday’s slim fingers. She makes quick work to get you ready to cum since she already stopped you once. As you’re about to cum, you start to shake and bend lower to the bed, trying to keep your pussy in the air. As you cum, you convulse and groan, letting your cum drizzle out of you and onto Wednesday’s fingers. She licks the cum off her fingers as she turns you around, kissing you. The taste of your cum is still fresh in her tongue and it’s slightly bitter but tolerable.

“You always taste delectable.”

[prettybabybaby]

blessing in disguise | xavier thorpe !

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: NONCON , kidnapping, dark!xavier, fem!reader, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 2.5k

synopsis: one final rejection and one accident resulted in something Xavier had only dreamed of.

disclaimer: all characters in my works are at least 18. there is dark and triggering content in this, as stated above. consider what you are comfortable with reading before you continue. your media consumption is your responsibility, not mine.

¡ wednesday masterlist !

It’s not like Xavier meant to do it. It was an accident and nothing more. He simply lost control and that’s not his fault. If anything, you were to blame for this.

You just looked so pretty in your cute dress, hair just like he liked it and a face as adorable as it gets with eyes lined and lips glossy. He was sure you’d finally say yes. Why else would you dress so beautifully to meet him in the woods? Especially knowing how he feels about you. It was for him. All for him and him only. For his eager eyes and yearning thoughts. You knew what you were doing.

But as always, you rejected him. Coldly, this time. Gone were the bashful and quiet apologies as you refused to meet his eyes, staring down at your feet or glancing over your shoulder as if you were afraid someone might hear you.

No, that wasn’t the case this time. You looked him in the eye with a huff, gaze hard. Your words were sharp and firm when you spoke, “can’t you take a hint? I don’t like you, Xavier.”

He was stunned, physically reacting with his brows lifting and eyes widening the slightest bit before they dropped, filled with the same venom that clouded yours, jaw clenching. It was so unlike you — well, the version of you he had concocted in his mind — he had the right to be angry with you. You disrespected him blatantly, again. All Xavier wanted was to love you.

Not even he could stop himself as his mind blurred before it blanked as he reached for you, wrapping his arms around you, brain and body fighting the urge to run his hands along your figure, desperate to feel it underneath his fingertips now that he had you so close. He snaked a hand up your body to your mouth, muffling your screams. You thrashed in his hold as he dragged you through the woods, taking the all-too-familiar path to his isolated art shed.

You panicked as he wrestled you to the ground, pinning your arms and running his nose along the column of your throat, breathing you in. You smelled so good, even better now that he could finally dissect the myriad of scents that made up the air that blew behind you every time you walked away from him, ignored him. 

He wasn’t sure when you began to cry but your tears were already hitting the ground and soaking some of the brown strands of his hair when he kissed up your neck, savoring the taste of your skin. 

“Xavier, stop,” you whispered, “I’m sorry.” You weakly pushed against him.

There was your sweet voice again. Fragile and delicate and so incredibly arousing. He sighed, kisses coming out messier and more frantic than before as he worked his way up to your lips that pleaded to be released, for him to wait, please stop. 

Your lips touched briefly, nothing longer than a second before you turned your head, sobbing as you pushed more insistently. He was so caught up in the pillowy feel of your lips that he moaned pathetically against your cheek as he sloppily kissed the flesh of your cheek, eager for anything he could get. The salty flavor of your tears was as delectable as a delicacy.

As your legs kicked and your hips wiggled and your pants of exhaustion in his ear got shallower, he grew against your thigh, mindless jerks of his hips increasing speed as time passed. 

Xavier felt himself grow warm, a deep, scorching pink painted his cheeks in embarrassment. What are you thinking? Are you thinking about how pathetic he is? Or how desperate he is for you? Maybe you’re finally realizing how badly he’s wanted to have you like this and just how far you had pushed him. You. Your doing. This was all your doing.

He used a single hand to pin your wrists, easily overpowering you as you tried to sit up, newly freed arm on its way to collide with his face. 

“Sh,” Xavier mumbled, capturing your bottom lip between his as he slid an eager hand down your body. There was a violent throb as his touch hovered over your shoulders, so gently it seemed he was almost scared to touch what he wanted so badly.

It was quick to make its way back up when he felt a stutter come from your jaw. His hand wrapped around the base of your neck, a warning, “don’t even think about it.”

Xavier wasn’t used to being so demanding. Unfortunately this is what he had to do, it was his only option after all you had done. It pained him to make you cry — even if you looked so beautiful doing it. It hurt him to have to pin you down and take what was destined to be. You and him. 

He felt you swallow under his hand as he encased your lips properly, tasting your mouth. He was already breathless, lost in you even when you refused to kiss him back, only making noises of protest as you squirmed. 

His touch glided down your body, losing patience with you and himself for his hesitation. He’d have you again. As many times as he wanted after this. 

He groaned into your mouth, frustrated at the dress you wore. Sliding down further, he pushed up your skirt, groping the fat of your soft thighs, tickling your flesh. Your knees twitched and he took a deep breath, pulling away from your lips to nip at your ears, licking the tears that dribbled down them. 

“Xavier,” you cried softly, “please, don’t.”

A response was on the tip of his tongue but it quickly turned into a moan as his pinky came in contact with a wet patch on your panties. He laughed breathily, you didn’t mean that. Your body knew what your mind hadn’t quite grasped. You needed him. 

You jolted, fighting even harder than before, “don’t touch me.” He could feel you getting angry, the fire in your eyes from before igniting again. 

Xavier shook the hair that fallen out of his ponytail from his face to get a clearer look at your face. He wanted to watch you give in to the pleasure he would force on to you. His smallest finger ran up your slit and he watched closely as you fought the fluttering of your eyes. God. He had barely touched you and you already looked this perfect.

“Don’t,” you spat, trying to slide out from under him as you nails dug into his hand. He clenched his jaw, pursing his lips as he exhaled through his nose. Why did you have to make this so difficult?

He kicked your thighs apart with his own, settling between your legs. Your heat radiated, hot against his aching cock. He cupped your cunt, kissing your cheek as he pushed against your hole lightly to hear you hiss. 

You jerked your hips when his fingers danced along the waistband of the soft fabric. He felt himself get hotter, cheeks turning redder when he glanced down, watching his hand disappear underneath it, immediately drenched in your juices. His palm stimulated your clit as his long middle finger prodded at your hole without entering it, teasing you. Your panties shifted with his movements, the bulge of his hand and slender fingers moving swiftly under the dainty bow near the top of your underwear jumping. 

Your breath stuttered as you snapped out his name, “I said stop!” 

Your voice was muffled as all of his focus was on the feel of your slick and tight heat choking the finger he forced inside you. Xavier all but whined at the sensation, cock leaking in his pants. Your feet kicked at the ground, chest rising and falling. In pleasure or frustration he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t be bothered to stop and ask as he squeezed another finger in.

You moaned, quickly closing your mouth to stop the noise. His eyes snapped up, flickering over your face. He had never heard a sound affect him more. Not even siren song could battle the noises of your pleasure. He’d do anything you asked him to. Well, almost anything. He’d never let you go no matter how many times your sweet voice pleaded for his mercy. 

His lips crashed into yours, kissing you impatiently as he fingered you faster, trying to stretch you open enough to fill you full of his cock. You shook your head from side to side but he chased after you, swallowing your huffs and silent whines. 

A whimper sounded in your throat as he curled his fingers, trying to find the spongy area that would have you purring for him. The noise had him removing his fingers, shoving them into his mouth as he leaned in close to you, breathing you in while your juices coated his tongue. His exhale was shaky as he shut his eyes, sucking harshly at his fingers to try and get more of your slick into his mouth. 

“Xavier,” you breathed, “wait.”

His name fell so sweetly from your lips that he shoved his jeans down just enough to finally release his aching cock. He was leaking pathetically and throbbing against his hand as he pumped himself slowly, afraid he’d cum before he made it inside you. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin. He gripped his length, hauling himself up to position his pulsing dick to your hole. “Shit,” he growled, tugging aggressively at your underwear that seperated you from him. “Sorry,” he murmured, feeling instant regret for hurting you, “I’m sorry.”

You started to scream as your ass felt the bare ground, tears building in the corners of your eyes as he slapped his cock against your dripping core. “Stop it, please, Xavier.”

He ignored you, gaze flickering from your cunt to your face as he pushed inside. He groaned as his head forced it’s way into you. It already felt like too much, the way your pussy latched onto his cock, welcoming him in despite your thrashing body. 

Every inch had your screams dying, replaced with repressed moans as you opted to shut your mouth, denying him of the sounds. He couldn’t protest, concentrated on pushing back his orgasm that was too close for his liking. The last inch sent a wave of immense arousal down his body in the form of a shiver and a whimper. He stilled, focusing on his breathing and the bruised lip you tucked between your teeth.

You fit so well together, just like he knew you would. He glanced down, entranced by the way his hips were flush with yours, leaving no space for anything. You were finally one.

Your walls pulsed and it felt like they were begging him to move, to fuck you like he’d dreamed of doing too many times. He felt like all the waiting had been worth it now that you were choking his cock so deliciously. All of the times you rejected him, turned your back to him, dismissed him as if he wasn’t there, forgotten as he pulled back, watching the way your slick stuck to his hip as he retracted, keeping the two of you connected with a sticky string. 

Xavier kissed your jaw as he pushed himself back in, nibbling at the skin near your ear. He tried to keep a slow pace at first afraid the urge to ruthless pound into you would take over. Your short, high breaths flooded his ears, a prize for resisting. It sounded like you were enjoying yourself, too. But how could you not when he was fucking you so well, patiently and passionately, just like you deserved. Even after all you did to him, you still deserved to be fucked like a princess. 

Xavier smiled, pecking your neck as he rutted into you, his fingers undoubtedly leaving imprints of their shape on your waist. You found comfort in clinging to him, grasping his arms before curling your own under them, grabbing onto his shoulders. 

“No,” you would cry, followed by a satisfied, “fuck.”

You were so warm and soft. He wished he had the patience to undress you properly, to touch you more. He’d have another opportunity, he reminded himself and that thought had his mind swimming. How could he help you adjust? Would it be difficult to get a mattress inside the small shed? Is there enough space? He’d be damned if you were uncomfortable in your little safe haven. It would be a place you would grow to love, he was sure of it. You just needed to process your new environment and the new dynamics of your relationship.

The loud whine that came from you brought him back to reality, back to the sight of you falling apart under him but trying to refrain from it. Your eyebrows were drawn together, mouth parted and face hot.

“M’gonna cum,” he struggled to utter out the words. “Fuck you’re perfect. Im gonna fill you so well.”

“No!” you screeched, pounding on his back as he pounded into you, thrusting harder and faster as his orgasm crept closer. “Don’t you dare!”

You pulsed more violently than before at the change of pace, clinging to his cock. He knew you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t admit it.

It was like you felt him about to burst, nails breaking the skin of his neck seconds before he came. You dragged them down and he felt blood rush down his neck as he came. The feeling was so intoxicating that he kept thrusting until he was milked dry despite the stinging pain. He didn’t have to look down to know that his t-shit was soaking in the crimson liquid so he opted to focus on your pretty face as he came down from his high. You were sobbing now, arms limp on the ground as your chest heaved.

Xavier begrudgingly pulled out of you, watching the pearly spent dribble out of your pussy as he stood. You stared at the ceiling, unmoving as he searched the shed, wordless. He wasn’t sure of what to say. Was there anything he could say at that point? He knew you didn’t understand yet. So he stayed silent until he found the lock and chain he had been searching for.

He walked over to you, clearing his throat. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You blinked at him. Sitting up and fixing your skirt as you dragged yourself away. He sighed, looking around to locate the blanket he knew he had around somewhere. He spotted it almost immediately, draped over an admittedly uncomfortable chair. It would have to do for now.

He draped it over your legs, smiling softly when you looked at him. “I’ll be back soon.”

It was a mistake, Xavier told himself as he stepped away from the now locked art shed glancing behind him and around the surrounding area as his hand attempted to soothe the fresh scratches on his neck. He just lost control for a second, it’s nothing major. You were destined to be there. Why else would he have done it? He wanted to love you forever. And now he can. You’d understand soon enough. The accident was a blessing in disguise.

[curator-on-ao3]

Wednesday (Quadruple) Drabble: The Lost and Found

She had been lost before.

Moving as a child from the Illyrian side of the city to the non-Illyrian side, hope for increased safety as consolation for leaving a part of her identity behind.

He had been lost before.

Refusals overridden, his would-be captors gaining control of his computer to falsify assent for a descent into fantasy, life in unreality as corrosive as the battery acid that powered his radiation-damaged heart.

Starbase records made clear Spock’s betrayal and, once Una reached Talos IV, it didn’t take long to locate Chris— his illusion screaming in pain from fire-borne punishment, his true form immobilized in his support chair.

The rage she needed to defeat Talosian mind control came easy.

In the shuttle she’d… procured… Chris declined her algorithm to match his speaking voice, choosing instead to use a computer default, no intonation of anguish or joy, no movement in his scarred face or change to his mechanized, steady respiration as he answered her questions.

“My best guess is Spock exploited that you’d be away from Starbase Eleven for a few weeks. He knew he was disobeying my orders and committing mutiny. He did it anyway.”

“If the Illyrian doctor is willing to try, I understand the risks.”

“Leave Vina behind. She made her alliances clear.”

So it’s at an Illyrian colony far from Federation arrogance or authority that his DNA unfurls and re-forms. Genetic engineering is usually performed before birth, but this is his rebirth, no longer the Christopher Pike who upheld Starfleet ideals but a Christopher Pike who is wary of a Starfleet that would tolerate a sham court martial rather than search for a greater truth.

Is Una reborn, too? Her belief in something greater than herself, in a Starfleet that could, in fact, become what she had hoped it to be in her idealistic younger years, that belief is withered, gone, replaced by allegiance to people, not an organization.

His skin is pockmarked, his voice reedy, gait unsteady. Genetic engineering isn’t a miracle cure.

Her sense of purpose has telescoped from appreciation for differences to appreciation for those who share her values.

Are they still lost?

Isn’t everyone?

But to be lost together… a shuttle course laid in toward a curious-looking cluster of stars, his hand a comfort on her shoulder, her soft hum the music of his naturally-beating heart… to be lost together… is something like being found.

•

Christopher Pike drabbles: 3, 2, 1/?

[moongreenlight]

Need more secret wife please 😭😭🙏🙏🙏

WIP Wednesday? WIP Wednesday.

Secret Wife p3 SMALL UPDATE that I have been hoarding like a dragon with treasure lol (I am riddled with guilt)

It takes Johnny upwards of two hours sat alone in his car in silence to fully process what just happened. He’d tried to ask a thousand follow up questions in some rapid-fire babble, but he was met with a wall of stony silence. Goes on stupidly for well over two minutes until Ghost knocks him with a cupped palm on his temple. Little rougher than could be considered friendly, but nowhere near harmful. Served to bring him back to earth.

“Take a breath, sergeant.”

The low rumble of Simon’s voice barely rises over the dull roar of the cars around them.

“Fuck off.”

Johnny looks less gobsmacked than he feels.

“Mind your manners.”

A bite. He must’ve quit smoking around you for the time being. Made him more waspish than usual.

“Cannae believe you, bastard. Kept a secret tha’ big from us all this time?”

Simon took a labored breath in. A sigh like the stiffness of his muscles was creating a vice around his lungs. He threw a sideways glance back toward your car a few aisles over. Like he was making sure you were still there and situated. Pursed his lips and rubbed the bridge of his nose while saying something about how Soap was to under no circumstance take you up on the dinner offer. Turned on his heel and made his way back over to you without a goodbye.

Johnny had half a mind to disobey out of sheer bull-headedness but decided against it just before he sent you a message on his last day of leave. Deleted the text he’d drafted and resigned to trying to press Simon more about things when they got back on base.

He tried, persistent bugger that he is, to pester his L.T. to give up more information. When the two of you’d gotten married. Why he hadn’t said anything. Why wasn’t he invited to the wedding? Was there a wedding? Does anyone else know? All fruitless. Snubbed each time.

He would have been offended if he hadn’t come to know Ghost so well over the years. He’s cagey at his warmest, so it’s no real surprise that he’s kept this under lock and key. The real shock came from the understanding that it happened at all in the first place. Johnny had a hard time wrapping his mind around someone as kind and welcoming as you somehow getting tangled with someone as stoic and brutish as Ghost. He tried to conjure up infinitely many situations where the two of you met and the coupling made sense, but he never stumbled on one that felt right.

Your went into labor over a month early. Just a few weeks after the boys had returned to base. Four hours before the boys were due to board a flight that would deploy them for three weeks. It was the only time Simon had ever been late to call. Johnny was sent to go track him down by an extraordinarily eggy Price.

He found him ready to leave, rifle slung over his back like a soldier. Pacing the hall outside your room in the bay. Down a short corridor in the back that usually hosted surgeries. He was whale-eyed and hostile toward the sound of Johnny’s boots echoing across the brick. It was jarring to see him so agitated. His hulking frame tangibly vibrating through the pounds of gear he was sporting. He truly considered just walking away. Spinning some tale about desertion because that seemed entirely less daunting than trying to corner an animal like Ghost.

Johnny eventually got him to leave. It was a non-option at this point, just a matter of getting the big bastard into the chopper. Tugging him away was like leashing a feral dog. He was fanatical, tugging at the lead and choking himself the entire way across the landing pad. Didn’t stop snarling until he was pushed down into his seat by Price and made to shut up.