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The dorm was split cleanly down the middle like two halves of different worlds forced to coexist. Wednesday’s side was stark and bare, the walls untouched, the bed always perfectly made when not in use. No clutter, no color, no warmth. Just the cold simplicity of black sheets and a stack of carefully organized books on her nightstand—mostly grim titles with Latin in the margins.
Enid’s side, by comparison, overflowed with life. Her walls were plastered with posters, string lights twinkled above her bed, and a mismatched pile of plushies guarded her pillows like sentries. A fuzzy pink blanket was kicked halfway to the floor, and her vanity—half-open—spilled out nail polish, lip gloss, and enchanted trinkets she’d picked up from town. The scent of citrus shampoo and vanilla body spray hung softly in the air, fighting the faint trace of incense Wednesday occasionally burned.
The only sound in the room was the steady, rhythmic thumping of Enid’s headboard against the wall—soft but insistent, echoing with each subtle movement. Enid’s breath came in broken little gasps, her fingers twisted into the sheets, back arched ever so slightly.
Wednesday straddled her with precision, perched on Enid’s hips like she belonged there, a white sheet loosely draped around her waist, leaving the pale line of her back exposed. Her posture was perfect. Composed. Eyes fixed on Enid’s face like she was watching an experiment unfold in real time.
She made no sound. Not a single sigh. Not even a change in her expression.
It was driving Enid crazy in the best and worst way.
Wednesday moved like clockwork—steady, deliberate, unflinching. Each motion was perfectly controlled, her spine straight, her gaze unbroken. She rode Enid with the same eerie precision she applied to fencing or dissecting frogs in biology. There was no fumbling, no hesitation—just the kind of cold, relentless rhythm that made it impossible to think straight. The white sheet fell lower on her hips, shifting with every slow grind of her pelvis, the fabric catching light from the moon spilling through the stained-glass windows.
Her eyes never left Enid’s face.
Enid, in contrast, was a portrait of chaos.
Her mouth hung open in a breathless moan, teeth dragging over her bottom lip between desperate sounds she couldn’t hold back. Her skin was flushed pink—hotter than it should’ve been—and beads of sweat glistened at her collarbone. Her hands gripped the sheets like lifelines, knuckles white, arms trembling.
Wednesday’s fingers were planted firmly on Enid’s stomach, anchoring herself with unnerving calm as she continued the slow, grinding motion that had Enid’s toes curling involuntarily, her body twitching beneath her.
“You’re…” Enid managed between breaths, voice shaky and high, “You’re so—so good—”
Wednesday didn’t answer. Her face was blank, her lips pressed into a slight, unreadable line. But her eyes—dark, sharp, unwavering—glittered with something that made Enid feel like she was being dissected from the inside out.
And still, Wednesday moved. Still perfect. Still silent.
Enid’s breaths grew shorter, her chest heaving as she felt the pressure building inside her. Wednesday’s movements, though deliberate and controlled, were driving her to the brink. The room filled with the sounds of their combined efforts—Enid’s ragged breaths and Wednesday’s steady, rhythmic motions.
“Wednesday,” Enid gasped, her voice a mix of desperation and plea. “Wednesday, I’m—I’m going to—”
Wednesday’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes flickered with a knowing gleam. She didn’t slow down; instead, she began to move her hips faster, slamming up and down on Enid’s length with a newfound intensity. Enid moaned louder, her body arching off the bed as Wednesday’s movements became more forceful.
Wednesday’s silence was deafening, her focus unwavering. She continued her relentless pace, her muscles tensing with each powerful thrust. Enid’s moans turned into desperate cries, her fingers digging into the sheets as she felt the climax building.
“Wednesday,” Enid screamed, her voice hoarse with need. “Wednesday, I’m going to come—”
Wednesday’s lips curved into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. She leaned down, her breath hot on Enid’s ear. “Then come,” she whispered, her voice a low, commanding growl.
Enid's body responded instantly, her muscles tensing as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. She threw her head back and let out a howl, the sound primal and raw, echoing through the room. In the distance, the faint echo of other howls could be heard, but Enid was too lost in her own ecstasy to care. Her hips bucked wildly as ropes of her cum spilled out, filling Wednesday to the brim. The sensation was overwhelming, her body convulsing with the force of her release.
Wednesday, unfazed by the intensity, continued to rock her hips, milking Enid for all she was worth. Her movements were deliberate, each grind and roll designed to draw out every last drop of pleasure from Enid's twitching body. Enid's moans turned into incoherent mumbles, her eyes fluttering closed as she succumbed to the bliss.
The room was filled with the scent of their passion, the air thick and heavy with it. Enid's body was a trembling, sweaty mess, her limbs limp and unresponsive. Wednesday, however, showed no signs of fatigue. She continued her relentless pace, muscles tensing with each powerful movement.
As Enid’s orgasm began to taper off, her body went slack beneath Wednesday’s, muscles trembling as the aftershocks rolled through her in lazy, involuntary waves. Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, cheeks flushed and damp with sweat, a dazed, blissful smile stretched across her lips. Every inch of her buzzed like she'd touched a live wire and liked it.
Wednesday’s hips finally stilled, her posture as composed as ever—back straight, arms resting lightly on her thighs. She looked down at Enid with that same unnerving calm, but there was something in her eyes now. A glint. Satisfaction. Maybe even… smugness.
Enid blinked slowly, letting her eyes flutter open. She met Wednesday’s gaze, and the absurd contrast made her laugh breathlessly. “How—how do you look like that right now?” she managed, still catching her breath. “Did you even… you know…”
Wednesday gave a single, sharp nod. “Yes.”
Enid blinked again, frowning slightly. “Wait. When?”
Wednesday glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. “Approximately five minutes ago.”
Enid’s brow furrowed as her brain processed that. “Five minutes ago?!” she echoed, voice cracking. “You just—finished and what, kept going like a sexy, spooky metronome?!”
Wednesday tilted her head slightly. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself. I saw no reason to interrupt your… theatrics.”
Enid let out a wheezy laugh, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been told.” Wednesday shifted, finally dismounting and pulling the sheet around her as if this had been nothing more than a brief, mildly stimulating activity—like chess.
Enid groaned, rolling onto her side, still panting. “I swear to god, one day I’m gonna make you moan. Just once. Just to prove you're not secretly made of stone.”
Wednesday raised an eyebrow, utterly unbothered. “You’re welcome to try. I enjoy a challenge.” She paused. “Though I believe the scoreboard currently favors me.”
Enid propped herself up on one elbow, her blonde hair a wild halo around her flushed face. She squinted at Wednesday, still recovering but suddenly serious beneath the teasing.
“Wait,” she said, catching her breath. “You actually… enjoy having sex with me, right? Like, you’re not just doing it for science or… or—some deeply weird Addams family ritual?”
Wednesday didn’t flinch. Her expression didn’t shift. But she looked Enid directly in the eye and said, in her perfectly even tone, “Of course I enjoy it.”
Enid’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, clearly not expecting such a straightforward answer.
Wednesday continued, voice as dry as ever. “You’re… adequate in bed.”
Enid let out a bark of laughter, flopping onto her back dramatically. “Adequate? That’s it? I just rocked your world and you’re giving me a C-plus?”
“Adequate by my standards is high praise,” Wednesday replied primly, adjusting the sheet with almost clinical precision. “You’re loud, distracting, and occasionally unpredictable. All things I find… oddly compelling.”
Still grinning, Enid reached out and looped an arm around Wednesday’s waist, pulling her in with zero ceremony. Wednesday stiffened immediately, her spine going straight as a board, limbs momentarily unsure of what to do. Cuddling was not her domain—it ranked somewhere between birthday parties and line dancing on her list of personal horrors.
But Enid, ever the wolf, was already half-wrapped around her like a sun-warmed blanket. Her breathing was evening out, her body soft and content beside hers.
Wednesday stayed tense for a few seconds longer, arms hovering in the air like she wasn’t sure if she should fight or flee. But then—almost imperceptibly—she exhaled, letting her weight settle against Enid’s body.
She was not a cuddler. But Enid was. And if pressing herself into the warmth of her chaotic, affectionate werewolf girlfriend made Enid happy, then Wednesday Addams could endure it.
For now.
Enid let out a soft sigh, her arm tightening around Wednesday’s waist as her cheek pressed into the other girl’s bare shoulder. The silence stretched between them, comfortable now, broken only by the quiet hum of the wind outside their window and the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing.
Wednesday's hair tickled Enid’s nose, and she wrinkled it, smiling despite the exhaustion tugging at her limbs. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was quiet—gentler than usual.
“I love you, Wednesday.”
She didn’t say it like she was expecting it back. She said it because it was true, and real, and resting heavy and warm in her chest like something sacred.
For a moment, Wednesday didn’t respond. Not with words. Her face didn’t change, her body didn’t flinch—but something shifted in her eyes. A flicker. A beat of vulnerability that was gone as quickly as it came.
Then she tilted her head, just slightly, so that her gaze met Enid’s.
“I know,” Wednesday said softly, almost clinically. “You say it often. It’s remarkably consistent.”
Enid snorted a laugh, nuzzling into her again. “Wow. Truly swept off my feet.”
There was a pause, and then—quiet, almost like it slipped past her defenses without permission—Wednesday added, “But… if it’s any consolation, I find your love tolerable. And… inconveniently essential.”
Enid blinked, then grinned so wide it hurt. “Inconveniently essential?”
Wednesday didn’t look at her. “Yes. Like oxygen. Or blood.”
“Wednesday Addams,” Enid whispered, utterly charmed, “you romantic menace.”
“I try not to be,” Wednesday muttered, but she didn’t pull away.
Not even when Enid kissed the top of her head and murmured, “Too late.”
The next morning arrived cloaked in gray skies and the soft, low rumble of distant thunder. The air was cool, crisp with the promise of rain, and the dorm room was dim, lit only by the silver wash of early light filtering through the stained-glass windows.
Enid stirred with a soft groan, stretching her limbs with the slow, languid grace of someone sore in all the right places. Her body ached, but it was the satisfying kind of ache—the kind that made her smile to herself, even half-asleep.
She reached out instinctively, hand patting the space beside her in search of familiar warmth, but found only cool sheets. Her brow furrowed as her eyes blinked open.
The other side of the bed was empty.
She sat up slowly, the blankets falling to her waist, tousled hair cascading over her shoulders as she rubbed at one eye. Her gaze drifted across the room—and there she was.
Wednesday.
Perched at her desk like a gothic painting come to life, legs crossed at the ankle, quill in hand, already dressed in one of her high-collared black blouses. She was writing in her journal with sharp, deliberate strokes, the only sound the occasional scratch of ink on parchment and the soft crack of thunder rolling outside.
Rain began to patter gently against the windowpanes, and Enid’s eyes shifted toward the storm clouds gathering beyond the glass. She shivered a little at the drop in temperature but smiled.
“Looks like a storm’s coming,” she murmured, voice still rough with sleep.
Wednesday didn’t look up at first. She finished her sentence, set the quill down in its inkwell with precision, and finally turned in her chair to face Enid. Her expression was unreadable as always, but her eyes lingered.
“It’s a good morning,” she said simply.
“Is it?” Enid asked, voice laced with a sleepy sort of fondness as she hugged the blankets to her chest, watching Wednesday with soft eyes.
Wednesday cocked her head slightly, as though the question required genuine contemplation. “The sky is gray, the clouds are heavy with rain, and thunder rolls like a drumbeat of divine wrath,” she said, her tone as calm and crisp as ever. “The weather is perfect.”
Enid huffed a quiet laugh, the corners of her lips twitching into a smirk. “Only you would call an impending storm perfect.”
Wednesday’s eyes flicked to the window briefly, then back to Enid. “It is an ideal setting for solitude, introspection, and the slow decay of optimism.”
Enid rolled her eyes, her grin growing. “You’re such a morning person.”
“I’m not,” Wednesday replied flatly. “Mornings are tolerable when they arrive with rain and silence.”
Enid leaned back on her elbows, stretching like a cat beneath the sheets. “Well, the morning would’ve been way better if you were still in bed with me.”
Wednesday’s brow lifted slightly. “You were drooling,” she deadpanned.
“That's called deep sleep,” Enid countered, feigning indignation. “And maybe if someone hadn’t exhausted me, I wouldn’t have passed out like a tranquilized puppy.”
Wednesday didn’t smile, but her gaze lingered with something soft at the edges—just enough to make Enid’s stomach flip.
“I had thoughts to record,” Wednesday said, gesturing slightly to her journal. “And I didn’t want to wake you. You looked… peaceful.”
Enid opened her mouth to respond, but paused when she saw Wednesday rise from her chair with quiet grace and move across the room. She walked to her narrow armoire, opened it with a creak, and plucked a long, dark coat from within. She pulled it over her blouse and buttoned it all the way up, her movements precise, practiced.
Enid’s brows furrowed. She threw off the covers and shuffled around the room to grab the oversized pajama shirt and pats she’d discarded the night before, tugging it over her head as she followed her girlfriend.
“Wait,” she said, voice still scratchy from sleep. “Where are you going?”
Wednesday reached for her black umbrella, inspecting its spiked handle before replying with casual ease, “The weather is perfect. I had an experiment in mind.”
Enid’s frown deepened. “What kind of experiment?”
Wednesday turned her head just enough to meet Enid’s eyes. “A simple one,” she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “How to attract lightning with minimal bodily damage.”
Enid’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ll need Pugsley,” Wednesday added thoughtfully, mostly to herself, already mentally assembling a checklist. “He’s remarkably conductive.”
“Wednesday!” Enid exclaimed, stepping closer and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just—what—go storm-chasing with your brother as a lightning rod!”
“Not storm-chasing,” Wednesday corrected, tilting her head. “Storm-inviting.”
Enid stared at her in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”
Wednesday raised a brow. “You say that often. Usually after sex.”
Enid groaned, dragging a hand through her tangled hair. “Please don’t get electrocuted before breakfast.”
“No promises,” Wednesday said, already halfway to the door.
And yet, as she reached for the knob, she paused for just a moment—long enough to glance back at Enid, her expression unreadable. “I’ll be back before the second downpour. You should rest. Your performance last night warrants recovery.”
With that, Wednesday snapped open her umbrella like a raven unfolding its wings and disappeared through the dorm door with her usual theatrical silence, closing it behind her with a soft, deliberate click.
Enid stood there for a long moment, still barefoot, half-dressed in her wrinkled pajama shirt, blinking at the now-closed door like it had personally offended her.
The storm outside crackled again, thunder rumbling low and steady as the rain picked up.
She let out a long, dramatic sigh, dragging both hands down her face. “Of course I had to fall for the human embodiment of a Victorian ghost with a death wish,” she muttered to herself.
She turned on her heel, walking back to the bed and flopping face-down into the sheets. Her voice was muffled now. “Hot, terrifying, emotionally unavailable, says stuff like your performance warrants recovery and then walks out to go summon lightning.”
She rolled onto her back, throwing an arm over her eyes. “God, I’m so screwed.”
A pause.
“…Literally. And frequently. But still.”
There was a loud crack of thunder outside, followed by what suspiciously sounded like maniacal laughter—either Pugsley's or Wednesday’s. Enid groaned into a pillow.
“But God, she's hot,” she mumbled. “That’s the real problem.”
And then, begrudgingly, she smiled.
Enid pushed open the door to Yoko’s dorm room, stepping inside with a soft knock of courtesy even though it was already open. The familiar scent of vanilla incense and vintage perfume hit her immediately—Yoko always managed to make the space smell like a gothic boutique.
The room was dim, as usual, heavy blackout curtains drawn across the windows, and the only light came from a string of red LED lights coiled lazily around the headboard of Yoko’s bed, giving the whole place an eerie glow.
The vampire in question was sprawled out on her bed, still in her silk robe and blood-red slippers, scrolling idly through her phone with the air of someone who had all the time in the world.
Before Enid could speak, a faint thump-thump-thump echoed from the floor.
She turned just in time to see Thing skittering out from beneath Yoko’s desk, fingers tapping excitedly as he made a beeline toward her.
“Hey, Thing!” Enid greeted with a warm smile, crouching down to meet him. “Thanks again for giving me and Wednesday the room last night. Really appreciate the… privacy.”
Thing wiggled in a way that could only be interpreted as cheeky approval, then launched into a flurry of rapid finger-spelling that made Enid laugh.
“Okay, rude,” she said with a playful swat. “You are way too smug for a disembodied hand.”
With a dramatic spin, Thing scurried off again, disappearing behind a stack of books and what looked suspiciously like a doll’s skeleton mid-dissection—clearly back to one of his mysterious side projects.
Enid stood up and turned to Yoko, who hadn’t even looked up from her phone.
“Thanks for letting Thing crash with you,” Enid said, brushing hair behind her ear. “I know he’s a bit of a handful.”
Yoko finally glanced up, one perfectly arched brow lifting. “Pun intended?”
Enid smirked. “Absolutely.”
Yoko sighed, tossing her phone to the side. “Whatever. He’s better company than most of the guys I’ve dated.”
“Honestly? Mood,” Enid replied, flopping into the beanbag chair in the corner with a groan. “My girlfriend’s out trying to catch lightning, and I think her brother might be holding the antenna.”
Yoko stretched out like a cat, lounging deeper into her velvet pillows as she gave Enid a once-over, fangs just barely peeking through her lazy smirk.
“That sounds like a typical day for Wednesday,” she said, as if Enid had just reported that her girlfriend had taken a slightly long lunch break instead of playing tag with lightning bolts.
Enid let out a dramatic groan and sank deeper into the beanbag chair, arms flopping to her sides. “I know,” she sighed. “That’s the problem. This is all just… normal for her.”
Yoko tilted her head, dark hair falling into her face as she regarded the werewolf with an almost curious expression. “Alright, what’s up?” she asked. “You’ve got that whole ‘overthinking lesbian’ look going on.”
Enid huffed, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s nothing.”
“Uh-huh,” Yoko said dryly, not buying it for a second. “Trouble in dark paradise?”
“What? No! No, no,” Enid said quickly, sitting up just enough to gesture emphatically. “Everything’s great. Wednesday and I are really… good. Like, weirdly good.”
Yoko gave her a slow, knowing hum, like she was already ten steps ahead. “Mmm. That tracks. I mean, the entire school did hear you howl last night.”
Enid froze.
Her entire body went stiff.
Then, as the realization hit her, she let out a mortified groan and collapsed backward into the beanbag chair like it had personally betrayed her. “Oh my god,” she mumbled, dragging a pillow over her face. “That loud?”
Yoko snorted. “Girl, I thought it was a werewolf mating call or something. Bianca texted me asking if someone was transforming. I said, ‘Nah, just Enid getting her spine readjusted by Wednesday Addams.’”
Enid groaned, burying her face further into the pillow, her body melting into the beanbag chair as if it could swallow her whole. “I am never having sex again,” she muttered, her voice muffled and defeated.
Yoko, unfazed, took a slow sip from her energy drink, casually scrolling through her phone. “Yeah, that’s not happening. Pretty sure Wednesday wouldn’t like that at all.”
Enid froze, the pillow sliding slightly as she looked up, her brows furrowing in confusion. “How would you know that?”
Yoko rolled her eyes dramatically, setting her drink down and leaning back on her pillows, her gaze entirely too amused. “Girl, you think Wednesday doesn’t like sex? Please. You two are basically getting busy every other day. Thing’s practically living at my place now.”
Enid mumbled a soft apology under her breath, half-hoping Thing wasn’t picking up on her embarrassment, though the disembodied hand was likely too absorbed in whatever he was tinkering with in the corner.
She pulled the pillow down, trying to regain some sense of composure, but the flush on her cheeks didn’t quite fade. "You know, Wednesday calls it ‘adequate.’" Enid muttered.
Yoko hummed thoughtfully, clearly savoring this moment, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Adequate?" she repeated, raising a brow. "That sounds like high praise coming from someone like Wednesday."
Enid groaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment. "It is high praise! But… I don’t know. I feel like I could be doing more. I just—I don’t want to be adequate. I want to do something that'll make her lose her cool for once, you know? Like, I want to make her vocal. Really vocal. Not just ‘adequate.’"
Yoko leaned back, her sharp eyes scanning Enid with curiosity. “Have you tried talking to Wednesday about it?”
Enid pulled her hands away from her face to give Yoko a look that practically screamed, You think she would actually say anything? Her eyes were wide, almost incredulous, and Yoko couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression.
"Fair point," Yoko said, nodding sagely. “Yeah, Wednesday’s not exactly the talking type. Especially about feelings or… anything that isn’t macabre or highly intellectual.”
Enid groaned again. "Exactly. I feel like I’m in this endless loop of trying to crack her, but every time I think I’ve got something, she just goes back to being all... Wednesday."
Yoko hummed thoughtfully, tapping her finger to her chin as she considered the situation. Then, her grin grew mischievously wide. “Well, maybe you could try being a little... rougher with her.”
Enid blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Rougher?” she repeated. “Like… how rough?”
Yoko raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the opportunity to mess with Enid. “I’m talking about, like, hair-pulling, maybe a bit of biting… You know, the kind of thing she might secretly be into. Wednesday’s not exactly the gentle, soft type.” Her grin turned sly. “She’s into shit like that. She likes intensity.”
Enid’s face flushed crimson. “I don’t know, Yoko. I don’t want to hurt her.”
Yoko rolled her eyes dramatically. “Hurt her? Enid, do you honestly think Wednesday would be hurt by a little rough play? This is the same girl who’s out there trying to get struck by lightning for fun. She thrives on chaos and danger. A little hair-pulling won’t even make her blink.”
Enid frowned, thinking it over. The idea made her feel a bit uncomfortable, and she couldn't deny the unease bubbling in her chest. She knew how Wednesday was—how she took pleasure in things that would make anyone else shudder. Her girlfriend’s high pain tolerance was legendary, something that would make any normal person pass out, but the idea of doing something that could hurt her, even if she was into it, made Enid hesitate.
She bit her lip, glancing over at Yoko. “I don’t know. I mean, I get that Wednesday’s… different, but I don’t want to do anything that could actually hurt her. She’s not exactly… the delicate type, but still.”
Yoko leaned forward, looking at her with an almost exasperated patience. “Enid, you’re overthinking it. Look, I get it. You want to be a gentle girlfriend, but this is Wednesday we’re talking about. She can handle a little roughness. Trust me, it won’t break her. If anything, it'll spark something in her.” Yoko leaned back with a shrug. “Just try something small first. Maybe a tug on her hair or a light touch, just to see how she reacts.”
Enid chewed on her lower lip, still uncertain. The thought of doing something like that, even as a test, made her nerves tighten, but at the same time, she couldn’t shake the urge to see Wednesday—perfect, composed Wednesday—lose her cool, even if just for a moment.
She let out a slow breath, glancing across the room toward the corner where Thing had retreated earlier. “Hey, Thing?” she called out softly.
There was a beat of silence before the little hand scuttled out from behind Yoko’s mini fridge, his fingers twitching in an annoyed what now? sort of way.
Enid gave him a sheepish smile. “Would you mind staying here again tonight? I, uh…” She hesitated, then cleared her throat and added, “I might need the room again.”
Thing paused dramatically, then began signing furiously with exaggerated flair, as if delivering an impassioned monologue. Yoko laughed under her breath.
Enid blushed, then bent down to give Thing a grateful pat. “Thanks, Thing. You’re the best.”
Thing gave her a little thumbs-up before crawling onto Yoko’s desk and making himself comfortable next to her phone, already acting like he lived there.
Enid stood back up, squaring her shoulders. Nerves still tangled in her chest, but determination was starting to creep in too. “Alright,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Thanks. Really. Both of you.”
Yoko smirked, already reaching for her drink again. “Don’t thank me yet. Just remember—let the wolf out.” She winked, thoroughly enjoying the way Enid’s ears turned pink on the spot.
“Oh my god,” Enid muttered under her breath, practically steamrolling her own embarrassment as she spun on her heel and made for the door. “I’m leaving now. Before you say something worse.”
“Too late!” Yoko called cheerfully after her.
Enid didn’t stop, just gave a little wave over her shoulder and escaped into the hallway, her heart pounding for an entirely new reason.
Enid sat cross-legged on her bed, nervously twisting a loose thread in her pajama shorts, Yoko’s words still echoing in her mind like a dare she wasn’t sure she was ready to take. Be a little rougher. It sounded simple—tame, even—but when you factored in the whole super strength thing, the concept got significantly more nerve-wracking.
Sure, she’d seen Wednesday bounce back from things that would’ve hospitalized most people—knife wounds, collapsing crypts, a run-in with a chimera on school grounds that one time—but still. The idea of her hurting Wednesday, even by accident, made her stomach twist.
Before she could spiral further, the dorm room door creaked open with its usual eerie groan.
Wednesday stepped inside, utterly unfazed by the storm still raging outside. She snapped her umbrella shut with practiced precision, water droplets flinging to the floor in a perfect arc. In her other hand, she held what looked like a scorched metal rod with bits of copper wire and glass fused to it—clearly the aftermath of whatever lightning-based experiment she’d been conducting.
Without saying a word, she walked across the room to her wardrobe, tossed the smoking contraption inside like it was nothing more than a wet towel, and began unfastening her black trench coat. Her movements were smooth, meticulous, as always. When she finally turned around, her eyes locked with Enid’s.
There was soot on her cheek. Her braid was slightly frizzed at the ends. And yet she still looked… composed. Beautifully so.
Enid blinked, her thoughts stumbling.
“Hi,” she said, her voice a little breathless.
Wednesday arched a brow, then gave a polite nod, as if returning from a polite tea party rather than a brush with electrocution. “Hello.”
She began methodically hanging her coat, then started unbuttoning the cuffs of her sleeves, her dark eyes never fully leaving Enid’s face.
Enid swallowed. Yep. Totally normal. Just your average post-lightning domestic moment.
Enid cleared her throat, trying to sound casual despite the lingering storm inside her brain. “Sooo… how’d the experiment go?”
Wednesday began removing her boots with the same eerie grace she did everything else, not missing a beat. “Surprisingly well. Pugsley appears to be even more attracted to lightning now than he was in our childhood. A promising development.”
Enid blinked. “Wait. More? What does that even mean?”
“His reaction time has improved. He no longer flinches when the rod begins to hum.” Wednesday paused, considering. “He may be developing a healthy respect for death. Or an unhealthy obsession. The line is thin.”
Before Enid could decide if she was horrified or impressed, Wednesday turned and walked into the adjoining bathroom, her voice floating back as casually as if they were discussing breakfast options. “I’m going to de-soot.”
Enid stayed seated, eyes wide, as she heard the sink turn on and soft splashing follow.
A few minutes later, Wednesday reappeared, the soot washed from her porcelain skin, her expression as deadpan as ever. Her hair, once in neat double braids, was now twisted up into a perfectly pinned updo that made her look like some sort of deadly Victorian heiress. Which, Enid supposed, wasn’t far off.
Wednesday gave the room a quick once-over, her gaze narrowing slightly. “Where’s Thing?”
Enid, who had been trying very hard not to stare at the elegant curve of Wednesday’s neck, jumped slightly at the question. “Oh! Uh… he’s staying with Yoko again tonight.”
One perfectly arched brow lifted. “Again?”
Enid tried for nonchalance, casually picking lint off her pajama shorts. “Yeah. They’ve got a… uh… Netflix thing going. Vampires and disembodied hands? Very niche.”
Wednesday didn’t look convinced. “You asked him to leave again, didn’t you?”
Enid hesitated. “Maybe.”
There was a pause. Then, in her usual calm, clinical tone, Wednesday asked, “Do you want to have sex?”
Enid let out an aggrieved groan, flopping back on the bed and dragging a pillow over her face. “Why are you so blunt about it?!”
Wednesday blinked, entirely unbothered. “How else am I supposed to know?”
“You’re supposed to just… I don’t know—kiss me or something! Flirt a little! See where things go!”
“That seems inefficient,” Wednesday replied dryly, stepping closer. “Why risk ambiguity when I can simply ask and know with certainty?”
Enid pulled the pillow down just enough to give Wednesday an exasperated look, her blonde hair tousled and cheeks still pink. “Because it’s not a business transaction, Wednesday. It’s… it’s sex. It’s supposed to be spontaneous and emotional and full of, like, sparks and heat and stuff!”
Wednesday studied her with all the intensity of someone observing a specimen under glass. “Sparks and heat are common precursors to combustion. Are you proposing we treat this like an experiment in spontaneous combustion?”
Enid stared at her for a long moment. “Okay, first of all—no. Second of all, only you could make that sound vaguely romantic and incredibly terrifying.”
“I take that as a compliment,” Wednesday said smoothly, stepping closer until her knees pressed against the edge of the bed. Her eyes never left Enid’s. “But you didn’t answer my question. Are we having sex?”
She repeated it with all the calm neutrality of someone asking about dinner plans, which only made Enid groan louder as she sat up slightly, rubbing her face.
“Only if you want to,” Enid muttered, shooting Wednesday a tired, amused look.
Wednesday didn’t respond with words. Instead, she moved with slow, deliberate grace, climbing onto the bed and straddling Enid’s hips. Her skirt rustled softly as she settled above her, posture still perfectly composed, like this was simply the next logical step in her evening routine. Enid’s breath hitched, her hands instinctively finding her girlfriend’s waist.
Wednesday leaned in without hesitation, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that was firm and sure, not rushed—but full of silent intent. Enid let out a soft groan against her lips, tilting her head and deepening the kiss, her arms curling around Wednesday’s back and pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
Their lips moved in a rhythm both familiar and still electric, the kind of contact that made Enid’s stomach twist and her thoughts scatter. And even as Wednesday kissed her with that eerie, elegant precision of hers, Enid could feel it—the pressure building, the tension coiling, the fire catching fast.
They eased out of their clothes piece by piece, fabric slipping to the floor in soft rustles, never breaking contact for long. The room grew warmer with each heartbeat, each breath shared between them. Wednesday’s fingers brushed along Enid’s side, trailing up her arm, her expression still unreadable—but her touch was deliberate, reverent.
Wednesday then reached between them, her hand wrapping around the end of Enid's cock, a soft, appreciative hum escaping her lips as she felt its heat and hardness. She guided it to her entrance, her eyes locked onto Enid’s, still void of any emotion, but her body betrayed her. She sank down onto the length, a sharp intake of breath from Enid filling the room as he felt himself enveloped by her tight, wet heat.
Enid's head thumped against the headboard, his eyes fluttering closed as a groan of pleasure escaped his lips. Wednesday began to rock her hips, her movements slow and deliberate, her face remaining impassive. Her walls were tight, gripping Enid’s length as she moved, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through both of them.
Enids gaze then moved to the sight in between her legs, watching as her cock disappeared into her girlfriend's depths with a groan. "Wednesday," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "You feel amazing." Wednesday didn’t say anything, just continued to rock her hips, taking control of their sex like she always did. She enjoyed being on top, enjoying the control, and Enid never minded or protested.
Yoko’s words echoed in Enid’s mind however, steadying her nerves with a surge of boldness. Slowly, deliberately, she slid her hand up Wednesday’s back, feeling the tension beneath smooth skin. Her fingers found their way into the dark waves of Wednesday’s hair, threading through with care—then she gave a firm tug.
The movement was measured, intentional, and it earned her exactly what she’d hoped for: a subtle hitch in Wednesday’s breath, her eyes narrowing just slightly, not in annoyance—but in interest.
Enid’s eyes sparkled with curiosity—and a flicker of mischief—as she raised a brow and gave Wednesday’s hair another firm tug, just to test the waters.
This time, Wednesday’s hips faltered mid-thrust, her breath catching audibly. A sound—soft and low, almost imperceptible—slipped from her lips. It wasn’t quite a moan, but it was close, and for Wednesday Addams, it may as well have been a full declaration.
Enid’s heart skipped. Oh, that was definitely something.
Enid’s pulse quickened. Encouraged, she leaned down, her lips brushing Wednesday’s ear as she whispered, “Was that a sound I just heard? Are you malfunctioning, Addams?”
Wednesday’s eyes flicked to hers, dark and sharp, but her breath was no longer perfectly even. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, though her voice was lower, rougher, and her hands clutched tighter at Enid’s shoulders like she was trying to stay grounded.
Enid grinned. “Too late.”
With a confidence she didn’t always feel but was fully embracing now, she rolled her hips again—slow, purposeful—watching Wednesday’s composure crack further. Then she tugged her hair once more, not cruelly, just enough to tilt her head back, exposing the pale line of her throat.
This time, the sound that slipped from Wednesday’s mouth was unmistakable.
And Enid practically glowed.
“So… you like having your hair pulled,” she teased, voice low and husky.
Wednesday’s eyes narrowed in challenge, but instead of responding, she silenced the werewolf with a searing kiss—fierce and focused. Her hips began to move with sharper intent, grinding down with a slow, deliberate rhythm as her fingers curled into Enid’s shoulders, nails lightly biting through skin in a way that made Enid gasp against her mouth.
But Enid wasn’t so easily distracted. She grinned into the kiss, then reached up again, fingers finding their way into Wednesday’s dark hair. With a gentle but firm tug, she pulled back—and that was when it happened.
A quiet, breathy sound slipped from Wednesday’s parted lips again. Her eyes fluttered closed, her posture faltering for just a second as the rhythm in her hips stuttered—then resumed, more heated than before. For once, she didn’t hide it. She didn’t fight it. She let herself feel.
And Enid felt like she’d won the lottery.
Enid loosened her grip slightly, pulling back to look at Wednesday with a breathless laugh. “Okay, that definitely wasn’t a coincidence.”
But before she could say more, Wednesday reached up, her pale fingers wrapping around Enid’s wrist. She guided her hand back into her dark hair, pressing it firmly against her scalp.
“Don’t stop,” Wednesday murmured, voice low and steady. “Continue.”
Her hips began to move again, faster now—more deliberate, more intense. The last thread of composure in her expression had slipped, replaced with something raw and real. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes half-lidded, and Enid could feel the way her body responded with every shift and press between them.
The werewolf stared up at her in awe, heart hammering, both from what was happening and from the quiet vulnerability that shone through Wednesday’s usual armor. She tightened her fingers slightly, obeying the request, and was rewarded with another soft sound that made her toes curl.
Wednesday's breaths came in short, sharp gasps, her nails digging into Enid's shoulders, the sting of pain only serving to heighten her pleasure.
Enid could feel the tension building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust. She knew Wednesday was close, could see it in the way her body trembled, the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her mouth opened in a silent cry of pleasure.
"Enid," Wednesday gasped, her voice strained, her body trembling. "I'm going to come. Pull my hair. Hard."
Enid's brow furrowed in confusion, but she did as she was told, tugging Wednesday's hair harder than before. Wednesday let out a moan, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, her nails digging harder into Enid's shoulders, drawing blood. Enid hissed at the sharp sting, but the pain only served to fuel her desire, to make her thrust up harder, faster.
Wednesday's release rocked through her like a storm, her walls clenching around Enid's cock, her juices dripping out and coating Enid's thighs. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm.
Enid had never seen Wednesday come like this before, so raw, so vulnerable, so utterly undone. The sight of it was almost too much to bear, the sheer intensity of her pleasure, the way her body shook, the way her breath hitched, the way her eyes rolled back in her head. It was a sight of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, and it pushed Enid over the edge.
The wolf’s eyes widened, her mouth opening in a silent gasp as her own orgasm hit her like a tsunami. A deep, guttural moan escaped her lips, a sound of pure, unfiltered pleasure. Her cock throbbed inside of Wednesday, pulsing with each wave of her release, spurts of hot, sticky fluid shooting into her depths. Her body tensed, her muscles convulsing as she followed her girlfriend over the edge, her own pleasure matching Wednesday's in intensity.
As the tension finally began to release, Wednesday buried her face into Enid’s neck, her breath warm against the werewolf’s skin. The last of her composure unraveled, her body trembling slightly as she came down from her high. Enid, too, was breathless, her chest heaving as the waves of pleasure ebbed away.
They sat there for a moment, still tangled together, the quiet of the room settling around them. Enid’s hands moved gently along Wednesday’s back, tracing slow, soothing patterns. She could feel the softness of Wednesday’s skin beneath her fingers, the heat from their shared moment lingering between them.
Wednesday’s breathing slowed, and she allowed herself to relax fully into Enid’s arms, the weight of her body pressing closer. Enid could feel her heart beat against her own, the closeness, the intimacy making her feel more connected than ever before. She held her girlfriend tighter, pulling her even closer, as if afraid to let go.
Enid then shifted slightly, just enough to pull back and look into Wednesday’s face, her eyes alight with curiosity and the faintest hint of amusement.
“Hair pulling? Really?” she asked softly, a teasing lilt in her voice as her thumb gently brushed along Wednesday’s cheek.
For a split second, something flickered across Wednesday’s face—something almost like embarrassment. If she were capable of blushing, Enid imagined this would be the moment. But true to form, her expression quickly settled back into that carefully guarded neutrality.
“I didn’t object,” Wednesday said evenly, her voice quiet, controlled—but not denying it.
She moved as if to sit up, to reclaim her usual distance, but Enid’s arms tightened around her with effortless strength, refusing to let her go just yet.
“Nope. Not escaping that easy,” Enid murmured, pulling her close again and pressing a trail of soft, lingering kisses along the column of Wednesday’s throat. She felt her girlfriend inhale—sharp, but steady—though her body remained pliant in Enid’s arms.
“You liked it,” Enid whispered against her skin, the words both playful and reverent, like a secret she was savoring.
Wednesday didn’t respond immediately, but her fingers curled around Enid’s arm, holding her just as firmly.
“I appreciated the enthusiasm,” she said at last, her tone flat but her grip contradicting the detachment in her voice.
Enid smiled against her neck, her heart full. “We might have to run a few more tests if that’s the kind of reaction I get.” Her voice was playful, but her eyes were earnest—curious, craving the vulnerability that had just peeked through her ever-stoic girlfriend.
Wednesday finally stirred, just enough to lift her gaze and meet Enid’s. “I do enjoy experimentation,” she said evenly, but her fingers tightened subtly on Enid’s arm.
“Well,” she said, brushing her lips across Wednesday’s temple, “in the name of science, I guess Thing’s going to have to stay in Yoko’s room for a few more nights. Maybe a week. Maybe two. Depends on the depth of our research.”
Wednesday gave the barest quirk of a smile, something sly tugging at the edge of her lips. “We’ll need a controlled environment. Frequent trials. Documented results.”
Enid laughed softly, the sound warm and breathless as she tucked a few loose strands of hair behind Wednesday’s ear. “Guess I better stock up on lab supplies, huh?”
Wednesday, still resting against her, let her fingers ghost along Enid’s ribcage in slow, thoughtful strokes. “I suggest hydration and protein-rich meals. You’ll need your strength.”
Enid huffed a laugh, grinning. “Are you planning on wearing me out, Dr. Addams?”
Wednesday tilted her head slightly, eyes sharp with mischief and affection all at once. “I plan on being thorough.”
Enid’s heart flipped over in her chest. She gave a playful, exaggerated groan and flopped back onto the bed, dragging Wednesday with her. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Not before I document your demise in detail,” Wednesday said serenely, curling against her side like a cat who’d just claimed a sunbeam.
Enid let out a dreamy sigh, her fingers still absentmindedly combing through Wednesday’s now-loosened hair. “You say the most romantic things,” she murmured, voice laced with amusement and affection. She pressed a soft kiss to the top of Wednesday’s head, letting her lips linger for a beat. “I love you.”
There was a long, thoughtful pause. Wednesday didn’t tense. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she gave a quiet, theatrical sigh—because of course she did—before speaking in that calm, deliberate tone that Enid had learned to read like poetry.
“I express my affections through calculated verbal disinterest, grand displays of chaos, and increasingly frequent voluntary cuddling,” she said evenly. “Take that as you will.”
Enid smiled so wide it almost hurt. “I do. And I’m taking it as an ‘I love you,’ because that’s what it is.”
Wednesday didn’t deny it. She only nestled in closer, tucking her face into the crook of Enid’s neck, her breath warm and even against the werewolf’s skin. Outside, thunder rumbled low and steady across the sky, a final echo of the storm passing overhead.
Inside their quiet room, lit only by the occasional flicker of lightning through the curtains, they drifted together into the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled—content, warm, and wrapped in each other like the safest place in the world.