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teliphone · 7 months ago

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Corrupt Desire

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

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

Word Count: 5.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How… has she been?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is unnecessary,” You explain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about him?”

“Same thing,”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, isn’t it obvious?” She mumbles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She misread you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She caught you. The real truth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” You squeak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just you and me again,” She smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wanted this,” She chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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mimicmimikyuwrites · 1 year ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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poisonlove · 9 months ago

Note

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

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

YOU | w.a

pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

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

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

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

"Addams, one word"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"ok, Addams"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

they decided to step aside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your eyes lift from the floor to meet hers.

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

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

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

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

"What's your name?" she asks curiously

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

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

she needed to leave the library and distract her mind

would have continued after the search, with the necessary calm

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

just like she knew yours.

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

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x you #wednesday adams x reader #jenna marie ortega #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #you

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thedemoninme141 · 3 months ago

Text

Insecurities (an anon request)

Parings: Wednesday X Female Reader. Wordcount: 10k-ish.

Summary: Wednesday's frustration made her say something irreversible.

Theme: Angst! Heavy Angst! Like idk heartbreaking heavy angst?

Warnings: Body dysmorphic disorder.

Wednesday’s patience had never been infinite, but today, it was being tested beyond measure. She should have simply put her foot down, denied you both, and spent the afternoon in solitude as she had originally planned. Instead, she was here, in this infernal store, surrounded by the nauseating scent of perfume, the artificial warmth of overhead lights, and the endless cycle of you and Enid dragging her from one corner of the boutique to another.

“This one’s so me!” Enid exclaimed, holding up a shimmering gold dress that looked more like a disco ball than formalwear.

“You’ll blind everyone,” Wednesday deadpanned.

“Exactly!” Enid beamed, twirling with the dress before skipping off to try it on.

Meanwhile, you pulled out a black dress with lace detailing, holding it up tentatively. “What about this one?”

Wednesday’s dark eyes flicked over the garment. “It’s acceptable.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. Acceptable. Not exactly a glowing endorsement.

Still, you tried it on, stepping out of the changing room to model it for Wednesday. Enid, still deliberating over shoes, didn’t even notice.

“Well?” you asked nervously, smoothing the fabric.

“It fits,” Wednesday replied, her tone flat.

Your lips pressed together. You turned back into the dressing room, emerging moments later with another option—a deep red gown with a flowing skirt.

This time, Wednesday didn’t even bother with a full glance. “You’re wasting time.”

You hesitated but said nothing, retreating once again.

It had been hours.

Enid had already found her dress—a shimmering, ice-blue monstrosity that she twirled in with boundless excitement. Enid had never needed her approval. You, however, were another matter entirely.

You were taking far too long.

You had asked Wednesday to come under the pretense that you needed her opinion, that it mattered to you whether she liked what you wore to the dance. Wednesday had seen no reason to deny you.

But she hadn't anticipated this.

Try on a dress. Step out. Spin. Ask her what she thought.

“It’s fine,” she would say.

Then you would disappear again, unsatisfied, only to repeat the process moments later.

She was growing tired of saying it. It was fine. They were all fine. What more did you want from her?

Enid was equally enraptured, offering her own thoughts, exclaiming how each one suited you, or how it brought out your eyes, or how it matched your personality. It was nauseating. Wednesday could barely suppress the irritation clawing up her throat.

And yet, you weren’t buying anything.

Now you were in the dressing room again as Wednesday stood stiffly outside, arms folded, her fingers pressing into her own arms in an effort to restrain herself from storming out entirely. Enid stood beside her, checking her reflection in a nearby mirror.

Wednesday exhaled sharply, “This is insufferable,” she muttered.

Enid gave her a sideways glance before rolling her eyes. “Come on, Wednesday. It’s yours and Y/N’s first Raven as a couple. It’s special for her.”

Wednesday’s fingers twitched. “That does not mean she needs to try on the entire inventory of the store.”

Enid shot her a look, pursing her lips. “She just wants to look good for you.”

“She already looks fine,” Wednesday snapped.

“Then tell her that instead of acting like she’s wasting your time.”

Wednesday didn't reply. She just pressed her lips into a thin line, forcing herself to remain still as her irritation simmered beneath her skin.

It wasn’t just the wasted time, or the absurdity of all of this. Why did it matter what you wore? You were already hers. The dress would not change that.

She had never been one for compliments, nor did she see the point in them. You had asked for her opinion, and she had given it. She saw no use in anything beyond that.

You had been talking about this dance for weeks now, making sure everything was perfect. As if it mattered. Wednesday had agreed to go, hadn’t she? That alone should have been enough to make you happy.

But no, you needed a perfect dress. A dress that you would wear for a single night. A dress that would be forgotten about the second the Raven ended.

Wednesday sighed, staring at the dressing room door you had disappeared behind.

This was taking too long.

And yet, she didn’t leave.

Then, finally, you emerged again.

This time, something was different.

You hesitated just outside the curtain, fingers gripping the fabric nervously before stepping into the light.

And Wednesday...

She stared.

Dark purple. The color was rich, deep, a shade that clung to your form in a way that actually—suited you. Perfectly.

Your shoulders were bare, the dress hugging your figure before flowing down to the floor in an elegant sweep. You looked...

Wednesday swallowed.

You looked beautiful.

And that realization—how much she cared about something as trivial as a dress—sent a wave of irritation curling through her.

How ridiculous.

It was just fabric. Just thread and silk. And yet, you were looking at it—at yourself—like this was the most important moment in the world.

"Well?" You asked, voice uncertain, eyes searching hers desperately for approval.

Wednesday hated that. Hated the way you seemed to need her validation for something so insignificant.

Something twisted inside her.

She hated that dress.

Hated the way you were looking at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric as if it held the key to your happiness.

She folded her arms. "You’ve been trying on dresses for hours, and now you want me to shower this one with praise?"

Your smile faltered. "I just... I thought this one was better than the others."

It was.

But Wednesday didn’t say that.

Instead, her own irritation twisted her words into something sharp, something cruel before she even realized it.

“It makes you look bigger, if that’s what you were going for, then congratulations.”

The words fell from her lips like a blade, sharp and final.

For a moment, everything stopped.

Your face froze, your expression unreadable as silence stretched between you.

Enid inhaled sharply. "Wednesday!"

But you... you didn’t argue.

You didn’t scoff or roll your eyes or throw some sarcastic remark back at her like you usually would.

You just blinked once. Then, slowly, a small, forced smile curled at your lips.

"Oh... okay."

And then you turned and disappeared back into the dressing room.

Wednesday watched as the curtain closed behind you, an unfamiliar tightness settling in her chest.

She didn’t understand it.

Why did it suddenly feel like she had done something wrong?

Wednesday frowned. "I told the truth."

Enid looked like she wanted to strangle her. “What is wrong with you?”

Wednesday exhaled slowly, keeping her expression impassive. “It was an honest observation.”

“No, it was you being a total jackass,” Enid snapped. “Do you even realize how hard this is for her? She already struggles with this stuff, and you—” She groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Why would you say that?”

Because she had been frustrated. Because she had been irritated. Because something about the way you cared so much about that stupid dress had made her feel…

Jealous.

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t understand it. She didn’t want to understand it.

But that didn’t change the fact that she had said it.

And you had believed her.

The dressing room was quiet. Too quiet.

She could imagine you inside, standing in front of the mirror, looking at yourself in that dress, picking apart every little flaw.

Wednesday opened her mouth, then closed it, suddenly unsure of what she was supposed to say.

The curtain rustled, and then you stepped out again—back in your usual clothes. Your face was carefully neutral, but your eyes...

Your eyes looked dull.

"I’m not feeling great," you said softly, voice almost too quiet. "I think I’ll head back to the dorm."

"Y/N—" Enid started, but you shook your head, forcing another smile.

"It’s fine," you said. "I’ll come back and get the dress later. Alone."

And then, without another word, you turned and walked away.

Wednesday watched you go, her fingers twitching at her sides, that strange, unfamiliar feeling pressing against her ribs again.

She had gotten what she wanted. The endless dress shopping had finally come to an end.

Wednesday didn’t have to look to know that Enid was furious with her. The werewolf hadn’t said a single word since they left the store, not even when Wednesday had slowed her pace slightly, allowing Enid to walk beside her.

It wasn’t as if Wednesday wasn’t used to people being mad at her. It happened often. She knew she had a sharp tongue and an even sharper indifference to how others reacted to her words.

And yet, there was an unpleasant weight in her chest now, something she didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore.

She was supposed to be relieved that the torturous shopping trip was over, but she wasn’t. It didn’t feel like a victory. If anything, it felt like she had lost something without even realizing it. The moment she had seen you walk away, that cold weight had settled deep inside her, and no matter how much she tried to shake it, it wouldn’t leave.

They were halfway back to their dorm when Enid finally snapped. "Are you just gonna pretend like nothing happened?"

Wednesday didn’t slow her pace. "That would be preferable."

Enid let out a frustrated noise as she turned to face Wednesday fully, forcing her to stop. "God, you are unbelievable! Do you even care that you hurt her?"

Wednesday’s jaw tightened. "It was not my intention to—"

"Oh, don’t give me that crap, Wednesday. You knew exactly what you were saying." Enid’s eyes were blazing, her normally bright and warm demeanor replaced with pure frustration. "She was so happy in that dress. Did you even see the way she looked at you? She just wanted you to like it. And what did you do? You insulted her. You made her feel like shit. You—"

"I am aware," Wednesday cut in, her voice quieter but no less firm.

Enid shook her head, exhaling harshly. "Then why aren’t you doing anything about it?"

Wednesday didn’t have an answer to that. Not one that made sense. Because the truth was, she didn’t know what to do. She had spent years—her entire life—keeping people at arm’s length, avoiding emotional entanglements with a precision most would consider cruel. And yet, she had let you in. Not entirely, not in the way you probably wanted, but enough that your absence felt… noticeable. Unsettling.

It irritated her. The power you had over her. The way one misplaced word from her could send you walking away, head down, shoulders curled inward like you were trying to disappear. She hated that image. It had been playing in her mind on a loop, and it was making her stomach churn.

Enid was still staring at her, waiting. Expecting.

"I…" Wednesday started, then frowned. "I will… rectify the situation."

"How?" Enid challenged.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. "I will apologize."

Enid’s eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really? You, Wednesday Addams, are gonna apologize? I’d love to see that."

Wednesday crossed her arms. "I am capable of admitting when I have made an error."

Enid scoffed. "Oh yeah? When’s the last time you apologized to anyone?"

Wednesday’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Enid sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Look, Wednesday, I know you don’t do the whole emotions thing, but this isn’t just about being wrong. It’s about her. She’s already insecure about this kind of stuff, and you just confirmed every single bad thought she’s ever had about herself."

Wednesday’s stomach twisted unpleasantly. That was the part she couldn’t stop thinking about. She knew what insecurities could do to a person. She knew how words could burrow into someone’s mind and fester. And she knew you. Knew the way you already hesitated before speaking sometimes, as if bracing for rejection.

She had never considered her words carefully before. She never needed to. But this time, she wished she had.

"You need to fix this," Enid said, softer now, her anger tempered by concern. "Like… actually fix it. Because if you don’t, I don’t think she’s just gonna forgive you and pretend it never happened."

Wednesday hated that Enid was right. Without another word, she turned on her heel and started walking.

"Where are you going?" Enid called after her.

"To fix it," Wednesday said simply.

She didn’t look back.

She had meant it when she told Enid she would fix it, but even as she approached your dorm, she wasn’t entirely sure how. Apologies were foreign to her. She had never needed to offer them before.

But the thought of leaving this unspoken, of letting you sit alone in your room, stewing in whatever thoughts she had planted in your mind, made something unbearable twist inside her.

She wasn’t the kind of person who hesitated, who second-guessed herself. And yet, there was something uneasy settling beneath her skin, something that made her movements feel unnatural.

It was you.

Or rather, it was the memory of you. The way you had stood in front of her in that dress, nervous, hopeful, looking at her like she had the power to decide if it was enough. As if her opinion was the final verdict on whether you looked beautiful or not. Wednesday hated that. She hated that you gave her that kind of power, because she had never known what to do with it. And she had wasted it. She had crushed it beneath her heel without thinking.

She knew how her words could cut. She had always known, and she had wielded them like a weapon before—against people who deserved it, against people who irritated her, against people who bored her. But she had never thought of you as someone she needed to use them against. Because that was never how it had been between you.

It had been impulse, irritation spilling over before she could filter it into something sharp but playful. She was used to throwing her sharp words at you, a quip here, a remark there. You never took her harsh words seriously. You always rolled your eyes, shoved her shoulder, smirked at her like you knew her better than she knew herself. She would say something cold, and you would call her out on it, grinning like it was all some sort of game. It frustrated her to no end, but she never minded the way you pushed back. The way you challenged her in ways others never dared.

But this time, you hadn’t pushed back. You hadn’t laughed, hadn’t rolled your eyes or playfully shoved her away. You had just… shut down. You had retreated.

Wednesday sighed, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides. She hated this feeling. This gnawing, uncomfortable thing pressing against her ribs. Guilt. It was almost laughable. The Wednesday Addams, feeling guilt over a single comment? It was ridiculous. But then why did it feel so unbearable?

And worse, why had she even said it?

Because she had been irritated. Because the shopping trip had dragged on for too long. Because you and Enid had been laughing and chattering, taking turns trying things on, wasting time on something as insignificant as clothing. She had wanted to leave.

But that wasn’t the full truth.

The truth was something uglier. Something she didn’t want to name.

When you had walked out in that dress, looking at her with expectation in your eyes, waiting—hoping—for her approval, she had felt something she wasn’t used to. Something tight, clawing at her throat, making her stomach churn.

She almost scoffed at herself. How absurd. Envious of a piece of fabric. But that’s what it had been, hadn’t it? That stupid dress had held your attention, had made you light up in a way that she never had. And for a brief, infuriating moment, she had resented it.

She had wanted to remind you that it was nothing more than fabric, that she was the one standing there, she was the one who mattered, not some lifeless garment.

But she hadn’t done that. Instead, she had said something cruel.

And she had watched as all that light, all that excitement, drained from your face.

Wednesday let out a slow breath, flexing her fingers at her sides. She was nearing your dorm now, the familiar door just ahead. She had walked this path countless times, had stood before that door before. But tonight, there was a hesitation in her step.

You had looked so uncertain when you asked her to the Raven, as if you expected her to say no. She hadn’t. She had said yes, because there was no logical reason to say no. If she had to endure a night of forced socialization and dreadful music, she would rather suffer through it with you than with anyone else.

And yet, when it came to something as simple as saying I did not mean it like that, she found herself hesitating.

Apologies were not in her nature. She did not like them, did not give them, did not see their purpose. But this wasn’t just about words.

This was about you.

She sighed.

Then, finally, she reached your door.

And she lifted her hand to knock.

The sound of her knuckles against your door was softer than she intended, but still firm. Final. There was no turning back now. Not that she would have turned back even if she could.

Perhaps you would refuse to open the door. Perhaps you would open it only to slam it in her face. Perhaps you would demand to know why she was here, why she even cared enough to show up.

She had prepared for that. She had prepared for your anger.

What she had not prepared for was the sound of the door creaking open, slow and hesitant, revealing you on the other side.

You looked surprised to see her.

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out, your eyes scanning her face as if trying to make sense of her presence. She could see the exhaustion in you, the heaviness in your posture, the way your fingers curled slightly around the edge of the door, like you needed something to hold onto.

You looked… small. Smaller than she had ever seen you before. And she hated it.

Wednesday forced herself to speak, keeping her voice steady, neutral. "May I come in?"

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, stepping aside to let her pass.

She entered without a word, her gaze flickering over the room as you closed the door behind her. It was dimly lit, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting long shadows along the walls. A half-empty glass of water sat on your desk, untouched. Your bed was unmade, the covers slightly rumpled as if you had been lying there only moments before she knocked.

Wednesday turned to face you.

You were watching her carefully, as if bracing yourself for whatever she was about to say.

She exhaled slowly, clasping her hands behind her back as she met your gaze. "I…" She hesitated, forcing herself to ignore the way her throat tightened. "I have come to apologize."

You blinked, clearly caught off guard.

"I should not have said what I did," she continued, voice controlled, measured. "It was cruel. And inaccurate." She paused, searching your face for any sign of a reaction, but you gave her none. "It was not my intent to—"

"It's okay," you murmured.

Something about the way you said it made her uneasy.

The words were quiet, soft, but they stopped her mid-sentence.

You offered a small shrug, looking away. "You just told me the truth."

Wednesday's stomach twisted.

"I wasn’t really paying attention to my weight for the last few weeks," you continued, tone eerily neutral, as if you were discussing the weather. "I must’ve gained some."

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

She hadn’t known what kind of response to expect from you, but it had not been this. Not this quiet acceptance. Not this casual confirmation of something that wasn’t even true.

"I know it might look bad for your reputation," you said, the ghost of a smile appearing on your lips, but it was empty. "But I promise I’ll lose the extra pounds."

The words hit Wednesday like a physical blow. Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

Her reputation? That was what you thought this was about?

Her breathing hitched, sharp and unexpected, like something had reached into her chest and squeezed. You had said it so simply, so casually, as if it were a fact. As if you truly believed it.

As if you believed she believed it.

“Stop.” The word came out harsher than intended, cutting through the air like a blade.

You blinked, looking back at her with faint confusion.

Wednesday took a step closer, fingers twitching at her sides. “Do not say that.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “Say what?”

“That I care about that,” she hissed, voice sharper now, edged with something she didn’t fully understand. “That my concern is my reputation. That you—” She inhaled sharply through her nose, forcing the words to slow, to steady. “You are not—”

She stopped, frustration building in her chest, strangling the words before she could force them out properly.

You frowned, shifting on your feet, clearly not understanding. “Wednesday, it’s fine—”

“It is not fine.”

The sharpness of her voice startled you a bit, "Then why—"

"I do not know," Wednesday admitted, frustration creeping into her tone. It was the truth, and she hated it. "I was… irritated. It was taking too long. Enid was unbearable. And then you—" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "It was never about you. It was the dress. It was the fact that you were treating it as if it mattered more than—"

She stopped herself before she could finish that sentence.

More than me.

You stared at her, your confusion evident. "The dress?"

Wednesday clenched her jaw. "Yes. The dress."

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips, but there was no real amusement behind it. "So, you were mad at the dress."

Wednesday said nothing.

You shook your head, looking down. "It doesn’t matter, Wednesday. I get it. I just—I won’t embarrass you. I promise."

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. "You are not an embarrassment."

You let out a quiet sigh, rubbing your temples. "I appreciate you coming here to say this, but it’s fine. Really. You don’t have to—"

"I do," Wednesday cut in, voice suddenly urgent. "You do not believe me."

You hesitated.

Because you really didn’t.

She could see it in you, could see the way her words had already settled into your mind like an undeniable truth. You had already convinced yourself that she meant it, that she had only come here out of guilt, not because she hadn’t wanted to hurt you in the first place.

And that realization—that was what made panic curl around her lungs like a vice.

She had thought she could fix this with words. She had thought that if she came here, if she admitted her mistake, if she corrected what she had said, then you would understand. That you would believe her.

But you didn’t.

You wouldn’t.

And Wednesday didn’t know how to undo that.

How had this happened? How had she allowed this to happen? She had meant to insult the dress, not you. And yet, somehow, her words had twisted into something worse. Something irreversible.

She took another step forward, " You do not need to lose anything. You—" She inhaled sharply, hating the way her voice almost wavered. "I never meant it. I— "

“I think I just need to sleep,” you said, voice soft.

A dismissal.

It sent another unwanted pang through her chest.

Your eyes met hers, something unreadable lingering in them. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

It was a question, not a certainty. And that was the part that bothered her the most.

Wednesday opened her mouth, then closed it. For a moment, she thought about what to say, she wanted to fight more, tell you that whatever you are thinking isn't true.

“Alright,” she said finally, her voice colder than she intended. She hated how distant it sounded, but she didn’t know how else to be. “I’ll leave you to rest.”

The word felt bitter on her tongue.

You gave her another small, tired smile before stepping back, waiting for her to leave.

She hesitated for just a moment longer, searching your face for something—anything—that would tell her that you didn’t believe what you had just said, that you weren’t truly convinced of those ridiculous, wrong thoughts about yourself.

But there was nothing. Just quiet acceptance.

Wednesday felt helpless.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the weight of her own mistake pressing down on her shoulders like a curse.

Wednesday’s gaze never left you.

You sat directly across from her at breakfast, your usual spot beside Enid, as though nothing had changed. As though last night’s conversation had not cracked something in the foundation of whatever this was between you. But Wednesday saw everything. She always did. And what she saw now made the pit in her stomach twist, tighten, coil into something unpleasant.

Your plate was barely touched.

A few bites of fruit. Two nibbles of toast. Nothing else.

You pushed the eggs around with your fork absently, as if by simply moving them you could trick everyone into believing you had eaten them. But Wednesday was not so easily deceived.

Her fingers curled around the handle of her coffee cup. She didn’t drink. Didn’t speak. Just watched.

She knew you. Knew the way you usually ate, the small patterns of your habits, the way you would sometimes offer her the parts of your meal you didn’t want, knew that you were never one to finish quickly, but never like this.

“You’re not eating.” She finally said.

Your hand stilled for a fraction of a second before you picked up your toast, taking a deliberately small bite. “I am eating.”

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “That is an insultingly weak attempt at deception.”

Enid’s gaze flickered between the two of you, sensing the tension, but she didn’t interject. Not yet.

You sighed, setting the toast back down. “I’m just not that hungry.”

Wednesday didn’t believe you.

“You ate nothing but a few scraps.”

“I had a late snack last night after you left.” you added, waving your hand dismissively. “Guess I’m just full from that.”

Wednesday could see the way your fingers twitched slightly when you set your fork down, could hear the way your voice was just a little too casual, too light. You were lying, and you were bad at it.

But before she could say anything more, you abruptly pushed back your chair, “I should head to class early,” you said, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “I need to talk to the professor about something.”

Another lie.

Wednesday clenched her jaw.

Normally, you and she would have walked to class together. Normally, you would have waited, loitering by the table as she finished her coffee, teasing her about how her caffeine addiction was going to kill her one day. Normally, she would have rolled her eyes, insulted you for your lack of intelligence, and you would have laughed.

But today, you left without her.

The realization sat heavy in her chest.

A sigh came from beside her. “That went well,” Enid muttered, pushing the last bit of her pancake into her mouth before setting her fork down.

Wednesday turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at the werewolf. Enid was watching her now, arms crossed, lips pursed.

“You did apologize, right?”

“Yes.”

Enid raised an eyebrow. “Really? Cause I see no effect from that.”

Wednesday clenched her jaw. “Because she dismissed it.”

Enid’s face twisted slightly. “Dismissed it?”

“She said it was fine.” Wednesday forced herself to swallow the distaste in her throat. “That it wasn’t a big deal.”

Enid let out a sharp breath, leaning back against her chair. “Well, that was a lie.”

Wednesday didn’t respond. Instead, she reached for her coffee, taking a slow sip, trying to ground herself in the bitter taste. But it didn’t help. Not when her mind was still filled with the image of you walking away from her.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Wednesday saw you in class, but you avoided her gaze. When the lesson ended, you were out the door before she even had the chance to speak. It happened again in the next period, and the next. You weren’t ignoring her outright, but you weren’t engaging, either. It was subtle. Quiet.

But Wednesday noticed everything.

By the time lunch arrived, the weight in her chest had only grown heavier.

She entered the cafeteria, eyes immediately searching for you. You were already at a table, sitting in the same seat as before, but your tray—

Wednesday’s fingers twitched.

There was even less food than this morning.

A small cup of soup. A glass of water. Nothing else.

Her teeth clenched, irritation and frustration mixing with something deeper, something she didn’t want to name. She watched as you lifted the spoon, took a single sip of the broth, and then set it back down.

Not eating. Again.

Her feet carried her forward before she could stop them.

“Seriously?”

The words came from Enid, not Wednesday.

You looked up, blinking as the blonde dropped her tray onto the table before sitting down beside you.

Enid gestured toward your barely-touched meal. “That’s it? That’s all you’re eating?”

You frowned slightly. “I’m not that hungry.”

Wednesday felt something snap.

“This is the second meal you have barely touched today,” she said, voice edged with frustration. “You are lying.”

You sighed, setting your spoon down. “Guys, I don’t need you both hovering over my food. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Enid argued. “You love the chocolate mousse they have today. It’s literally your favorite, and you didn’t even grab one.”

Your jaw tightened. “I just don’t feel like eating dessert.”

Enid stared at you for a moment before glancing at Wednesday.

Wednesday met her gaze, already knowing exactly what she was thinking.

This was not normal.

You barely hesitated before shaking your head, too quickly, too dismissively. “No. It’s fine, Wednesday. Really.”

It was the same thing you had said last night. And just like last night, she didn’t believe you.

She wanted to push, to force you to say the truth, to make you understand how wrong you were for thinking the way you did. But Enid shot her a look that said- Let her eat at least this or she will leave unfinished again, and for once, Wednesday held her tongue.

The rest of lunch was quiet.

You barely ate.

And then, just like breakfast, you left early.

“This is ridiculous,” Wednesday muttered.

Enid scoffed. “Yeah? Well, welcome to feelings, Wednesday.”

“I have to fix this,” Wednesday said, more to herself than to Enid.

Enid studied her for a moment, then sighed. “Well, you’d better hurry. Because if she keeps going like this…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

Neither did Wednesday.

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I will fix it.”

The first time she tried to fix it, it was simple. Direct. She waited until the two of you were alone after class, cornering you before you could make your usual excuse to leave.

“You need to eat.”

You barely blinked at her, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “I do eat.”

“Not enough.”

A flicker of something passed through your expression—annoyance, maybe, or discomfort—but it was gone before she could decipher it. You sighed.

“Wednesday, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

She stared at you, unblinking. “No, you’re not.”

A small, dry laugh escaped you, and you shook your head. “You’re being dramatic. I told you, I’ve just been feeling off lately.”

“I don’t care what excuse you come up with. You’re not eating, and I know exactly why." Wednesday snapped.

For a moment, something flickered in your gaze—hesitation, uncertainty. Then, your lips pressed into a thin line, and you took a step back. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

And just like that, you were gone.

The second time, she came prepared. If words alone wouldn’t reach you, she would try something else.

She didn’t need Enid’s help to know what your favorite foods were. She had memorized them over time, despite never meaning to, despite never understanding why she remembered insignificant details about you so easily. But now, she put that knowledge to use.

She found them, each one, and placed them in front of you at lunch, setting them down with deliberate precision. You blinked at the sight, your brows furrowing as you looked at her.

“What’s this?”

“You’ve been avoiding food. If you refuse to eat the meals given to you, then I will find ones that you cannot resist.”

For a second, just a second, she thought she had succeeded. Your fingers brushed against the edge of the plate, your expression unreadable. But then, your hand withdrew, and you gave her a small, forced smile.

“That’s sweet of you, Wednesday, but I just had an apple and I’m not that hungry right now.”

The irritation inside her flared. “You’re never hungry anymore.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I told you, I—”

“Are you truly incapable of coming up with a better excuse?” Her voice was sharper than she intended, but she didn’t care. “Every time, it’s the same thing. ‘I’m not hungry,’ ‘I’m just feeling off,’ ‘I’ll eat later.’ It’s all meaningless. You are wasting away in front of me, and you expect me to do nothing?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Your fingers twisted together in your lap, your eyes darting away, and for the first time, Wednesday saw it—guilt.

But it wasn’t guilt toward yourself. It wasn’t guilt for what you were doing to your own body. It was guilt toward her.

Like you believed that you were an inconvenience.

The realization hit her like a knife to the ribs.

You weren’t punishing yourself because you wanted to. You were punishing yourself because of her.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” you said softly, eyes still cast downward. “But I’m okay. Really.”

And then you stood up, tray untouched, leaving her there with nothing but her own frustration and a meal that you would never eat.

It was the fifth day now, and your avoidance had only gotten worse. Every meal was an excuse, every moment together felt like walking on glass. Even Enid had started pressing you more, but it didn’t matter—nothing seemed to reach you.

Wednesday found you in the courtyard, sitting on one of the stone benches, your gaze distant as you absentmindedly flipped through a book in your lap. She didn’t bother with a greeting. She simply sat down beside you, close enough that you couldn’t ignore her presence.

You sighed before even looking up. “Wednesday.”

“How long do you intend to keep this up?” She asked straight up.

You frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She clenched her fists. “Yes, you do.”

For a moment, there was silence. You stared at your book, but your eyes weren’t moving across the pages. Then, finally, you exhaled and looked at her.

“Why do you care so much?”

The words shouldn’t have hurt. But they did.

Wednesday’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she could do nothing but stare. Then, her fingers twitched, her voice tightening. “Because you are—”

She stopped herself before the words could slip out.

Because you are important to me.

Because you are mine.

Because the thought of you hurting yourself because of me is unbearable.

Because I lo—

She swallowed, forcing her voice to remain steady. “Because I don’t like seeing you like this.”

You looked at her for a long time, studying her, as if searching for something in her expression. Then, your lips curled into another weak smile, and you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine, Wednesday.”

You said it so gently, so kindly, as if you were trying to comfort her.

And then you left.

Again.

Wednesday sat there, alone. She had lost count of how many times she had watched you walk away now.

And she had no idea how to make you stay.

Wednesday had never been one for hope. It was a fragile, useless thing, prone to shattering at the slightest misstep. But as she walked beside you toward breakfast, she allowed herself the smallest sliver of it, the thinnest thread of belief that today would be different.

Today, she would fix this.

Her plan was simple—ruthlessly so. She would sit beside you, not across. She would place your plate in front of you and refuse to let you leave until you finished everything on it.

If you so much as tried to make an excuse, she would shut it down before the words could even leave your mouth. It was harsh, perhaps. But so was the alternative. So was standing by and watching you slip further away from her, your body weakening, your presence growing more distant by the day.

She refused to let that happen.

She glanced at you, noticing how you walked a bit slower... to slow. “Are you alright?”

Your lips parted at the question, like you were thinking of an answer. Then, after a second too long, you nodded. “Yeah. Just tired—”

Wednesday barely had time to process the shift before your body suddenly gave out.

She caught you before you could hit the ground.

Her arms wrapped around your body instinctively as she lowered you to the ground. For a heartbeat, she thought—hoped—that you were just dizzy, that you would blink up at her, disoriented but awake, that you would make some flippant joke about losing your balance.

But you didn’t.

Your body was limp against her own, your breathing shallow, your skin cold.

You weren’t waking up.

Something inside Wednesday snapped.

She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t think. She just moved.

Her grip tightened around you as she pulled you closer, her heart hammering violently against her ribs, her pulse a brutal, erratic drumbeat in her ears. The usual sharp, methodical clarity she carried in dire situations was gone, replaced instead with something raw and all-consuming.

Fear.

She had never felt fear like this before.

Never—not in the face of monsters, not when staring death in the eye, not even in the moments where her own life had been at stake. But this? This was different. This was something she couldn’t fight, couldn’t outthink, couldn’t control.

This was you.

She barely registered the way the students around her froze in shock, barely heard Enid’s sharp gasp as she ran forward, her voice high and panicked. Everything blurred at the edges, her focus narrowing to the unconscious weight in her arms.

She had failed.

She had failed, and now you were—

No. No, you were still breathing. Faint, but there. You were still here.

She had to move.

She didn’t say a word as she hoisted you up, as she carried you with a grip that was both impossibly firm and terrifyingly desperate. Enid scrambled beside her, speaking—yelling—something, but Wednesday couldn’t hear her. The blood rushing in her ears was too loud.

All she could do was walk. Move forward.

She didn’t stop. Not until she reached the infirmary. Not until she had laid you down. Not until the nurse had taken you from her arms, pushing her back, ushering her out.

And then—she was waiting.

Sitting outside the infirmary doors. Hands curled into fists so tight her nails dug into her palms.She stared at the floor, her jaw clenched so hard it ached, but she didn’t care. She barely felt it. All she felt was the weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating, inescapable.

Her fault.

Every second stretched unbearably, the minutes dragging into something endless, torturous. She had never been patient, had never liked the sensation of waiting. But this wasn’t just waiting.

This was punishment.

A well-earned one.

Then—the door opened.

Wednesday shot to her feet immediately, her body moving before her mind could catch up. The nurse barely had time to look at her before Wednesday demanded, “What happened?”

The words were sharper than intended, edged with something she didn’t want to name. The nurse exhaled, crossing her arms.

“She collapsed due to malnutrition. Her glucose levels had dropped to a dangerously low level—hence, the loss of consciousness. I started her on an IV to stabilize her, but she’s severely lacking in proper nutrients. This didn’t happen overnight.”

Wednesday knew that. Of course she knew that.

“She’ll be okay,” the nurse added after a pause, her tone softening slightly. “But this isn’t just a passing issue. If this continues, it could become significantly more serious.”

She didn’t need to hear if this continues because of you. She didn’t need to. The words echoed loud enough inside Wednesday’s own skull.

She barely nodded. The nurse lingered for a moment, as if contemplating saying something else, but then she sighed and stepped away, leaving Wednesday alone once again.

No.

Not alone.

Enid was there now.

The blonde had been quiet until now, watching, waiting. But as soon as the nurse disappeared, she moved forward, her expression unreadable.

“You’re blaming yourself.”

It wasn’t a question.

Wednesday didn’t answer.

Enid sighed, “Wednesday…”

“I am to blame,” she said simply, her voice flat, empty. “There is no need to sugarcoat the truth. This started because of me.”

Enid frowned. “I’m not saying what you said didn’t have an impact. But you didn’t make her stop eating. You didn’t force her to do this.”

Wednesday’s fingers twitched at her sides. “I didn’t have to. My words were enough.”

Enid sighed again, quieter this time. She hesitated, then carefully sat beside her. She didn’t reach out, didn’t try to touch her, and Wednesday was grateful for that. She wouldn’t have been able to tolerate it.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Enid murmured, voice softer than before.

Wednesday swallowed, staring straight ahead. “She shouldn’t have to be okay. She shouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place.”

Enid exhaled, shaking her head. “You love making yourself the villain, huh?”

Wednesday’s jaw tensed. “I don’t—”

“Look, I get it. You feel like you caused this. And maybe, yeah, what you said did affect her. But, Wednesday, this is not just on you. That’s something in her mind that we need to help her with. You don’t fix this by beating yourself up.”

Wednesday didn’t respond.

Because she didn’t believe that.

Because she knew the truth.

This was her fault.

And she had no idea how to make it right.

Wednesday hadn’t moved from her spot.

She sat there, her spine straight as ever, hands folded rigidly in her lap, her eyes fixed on your face. She had watched every slight movement—every twitch of your fingers, every shallow rise and fall of your chest, every slow inhale that never seemed quite deep enough.

She didn’t move, but inside, she was crumbling.

She didn’t allow herself to blink as your eyelids fluttered. She didn’t exhale as your breathing shifted, as your fingers curled slightly against the thin sheet draped over you. Then, finally, finally, your lashes lifted, and the moment your gaze met hers, something in her cracked.

Relief hit her first. A sharp, overwhelming thing that seized her chest, nearly stole her breath. She had prepared herself for worse—prepared for another stretch of waiting, for something deeper than sleep. But you were awake.

You were still here.

But the relief barely had time to settle before guilt surged up to choke it out.

You looked exhausted. The shadows under your eyes were more pronounced than ever, and your skin, normally warm with life, still held a pallor that made her stomach twist.

“…What happened?” Your voice was hoarse, quieter than usual.

Wednesday’s fingers twitched. “You collapsed.”

Your brows furrowed slightly at her words, as if you hadn’t quite processed them.

“Oh.” Your voice was quiet. Distant. “I didn’t think it would be that bad…”

Something inside Wednesday snapped.

She had spent the last week watching you waste away in front of her, agonizing over every missed meal, every bite you left untouched. She had spent every waking moment searching for ways to fix it, to reverse the damage, to bring you back before you slipped too far.

And now, here you were—lying in a hospital bed, looking as fragile as she had ever seen you—and you had the audacity to act like this wasn’t serious.

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to scold you, to demand how you could let this happen to yourself, how you could do something so reckless and still dismiss it as if it were nothing.

But how could she, when she was the one who had pushed you over the edge in the first place?

Her fingers twitched in her lap. The words burned in her throat, sharp and bitter.

And then you exhaled, turning your gaze downward. “I’m sorry if I caused you trouble…”

Wednesday inhaled sharply through her nose.

“No.” The word left her lips before she could stop it, firm and unwavering. “No, you do not get to apologize for this.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, but before you could protest, she continued.

“You collapsed,” she said, her voice steady, controlled—but underneath, there was something else. Something fragile. “You were starving yourself. And you still think you should be apologizing to me?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

Wednesday leaned forward ever so slightly. “You are not a burden to me.” Her voice didn’t waver, but she felt something tighten in her chest. “Nothing I said was ever meant to make you doubt that.”

Your eyes flickered to hers. There was something unreadable in them, something distant.

She swallowed.

“I never meant it.” Her voice softened, but there was an urgency beneath it, a desperation she couldn’t quite mask. “Not once. Not in a million lifetimes.”

You didn’t say anything.

She had spent so long trying to find the right words, and now that she had them, she didn’t know if they were enough.

She just wanted you to believe her.

She just wanted you to be okay.

“…I’ll try to balance things a bit more.”

It was barely a whisper, a quiet, reluctant offering, but it struck Wednesday like a blow to the chest.

You weren’t supposed to balance things. You weren’t supposed to change. You weren’t supposed to let her words sink their claws into you so deeply that you felt the need to shrink yourself into something smaller, something less.

But before she could argue, before she could say anything, you turned your face away. You turned your head away from her, your face shifting out of her view.

“I’m feeling sleepy.” Your voice was soft. Detached. “I think I’ll rest for a bit.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

Wednesday sat there, staring at you. She wanted to keep talking. Wanted to shake you awake, keep you with her just a little longer, find the right words to make you understand.

But she didn’t.

And this time, as you drifted away, she knew—this wasn’t just sleep.

This was something deeper. Something worse.

Wednesday watched, That was all she could do now—watch, observe, analyze every shift in your expression, every movement, every breath, hoping, praying, that she was wrong.

She wasn’t.

The day you left the infirmary, you sat at the breakfast table with your tray in front of you, and for a brief moment, Wednesday felt something almost like relief. There was food on your plate. Not enough, but more than there had been before. A single bite of toast, a small portion of fruit. She waited, staring, barely touching her own food as she watched to see if you would eat.

You did. A small bite. Then another.

But it wasn’t the same.

The way you chewed was hesitant, methodical, like you were forcing yourself. There was no absentminded conversation, no playful remarks, no soft laughter as you nudged Enid when she told a ridiculous story.

It was quiet. Stiff. Empty.

Enid tried to make up for it, talking twice as much to fill the silence, but it was all wrong. Because this silence—it wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural.

It was a void, stretching further and further, swallowing you whole.

Wednesday’s stomach churned as she watched you pick up a spoon and push your food around your plate.

You thought she didn’t notice when you stopped after three bites. When you placed your utensils down too early and excused yourself.

But she did.

She noticed everything.

And still, she said nothing.

What could she say? She had already broken you. If she pushed too hard, you would only retreat further. But if she didn’t push at all…

She wasn’t sure which was worse.

And now, Wednesday sat at her desk,staring at the blank pages of her notebook, her mind spiraling.

You weren’t getting better. You were only pretending to. For her.

And that was worse.

She could feel it, the weight of it, pressing in on her lungs. You had already decided. You believed, wholeheartedly, that you had to change. That she wanted you to change.

She had never intended for her words to hurt you. She never thought—never even imagined—that you would take them so deeply, let them fester inside of you until they ate you alive.

But you had.

Because she had let them.

Because she had been the one to plant them in the first place.

You were fading.

The way you moved, slower than before, as if some invisible force was dragging you down. The way you laughed, short and muted, never quite reaching your eyes. The way you smiled at her—not the way you used to, not the soft, effortless warmth that had once made her stomach twist in ways she couldn’t understand, but something practiced. Forced.

She knew that you thought you were a burden to her. She saw it in the way you spoke to her now, careful and measured, as if testing the weight of every word before you allowed it to leave your mouth. She saw it in the way you responded to her attempts to fix things—never annoyed, never upset, only guilty.

And worst of all, she saw it in your eyes.

You had always looked at her. Always.

She had never acknowledged how much she had relied on it until it was gone.

Before, you had looked at her like she was something more than just Wednesday Addams. Not an untouchable force, not a figure to be feared, but simply her. You had looked at her with fondness, with exasperation, with an affection that she hadn’t fully known what to do with.

Now, you barely met her gaze. And when you did, all she saw was uncertainty.

You had once been so full of life. So sweet. You had come into her world with laughter and warmth, with a stubbornness that rivaled her own, and an unwavering certainty that you wanted her, that you had chosen her.

And she had ruined you.

Wednesday sat at the foot of her bed that evening, hands curled into fists against her knees, staring at the wall as the realization settled deep into her bones, cold and unshakable.

She had ruined you.

She had taken the light in your eyes and twisted it into something fragile, something easily broken.

She had done this.

She should have known better.

Wednesday prided herself on being meticulous, on never making mistakes, on calculating every possible outcome before making a move.

But with you? She had let herself act on impulse, let herself give in to the worst parts of herself, and now she had to watch as the consequences slowly unraveled right in front of her.

And she couldn’t let it continue.

Wednesday inhaled slowly, , forcing herself to think, forcing herself to act.

You would never stop punishing yourself for her as long as she was here. As long as she was standing at your side, you would keep believing that you had to change for her, that you had to mold yourself into something smaller, something less.

So she had to leave first.

You needed to be mad at her. Mad enough to stop punishing yourself for her. And if that was the only thing she could do to fix this, then she would do it. Even if it destroyed her. Even if it meant you hating her.

Because at least then, you would be okay.

You would move on.

And Wednesday?

She would live with it.

Her footsteps felt heavier than ever as she made her way toward your room, each step slower than the last, as if her body was resisting what she was about to do. Her stomach churned, her breath uneven, her mind screaming at her to stop.

She hesitated in front of your door, her fingers hovering over the handle.

This was it.

Her final mistake.

But one that would save you.

"Wends?" you murmured, and the name was a blade to her throat.

She felt it—felt the way you said it, the love behind it, the warmth, the trust. She didn’t deserve any of it.

Wednesday forced herself to take you in one last time. She memorized every detail, every delicate curve of your face, the way your eyes softened just for her, the way your lips parted as if to say more. She knew this was the last time she would be able to look at you like this, the last time you would ever look at her this way—without fear, without doubt, without the weight of betrayal hanging between you.

Her chest ached with something unbearable, something foreign, something she wanted to cut out of herself before it ruined her resolve.

But this had to be done.

She swallowed the hesitation, the pain, forced it all down into the pit of her stomach, where it twisted and festered but could not touch the surface. She willed herself to become stone, to become something cold and untouchable, something that could not be reached, could not be reasoned with.

And then, she killed the thing she loved most.

"I am ending our relationship."

The words fell like an executioner’s axe. Cold. Final.

She watched the way your body froze, the way your breath hitched ever so slightly, the way your hands tensed where they rested against your lap. Your lips parted, then closed again, confusion clouding your eyes.

At first, you just blinked at her, as if trying to process the sentence, as if your brain refused to put the words together in a way that made sense. "What?" you finally breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

Wednesday did not move. Did not flinch. She forced herself to remain perfectly still, like a statue, like a corpse.

She had to make you believe this.

She had to make you hate her.

"I’m not feeling anything anymore," she said, the lie thick on her tongue, thick in her throat. Her voice was flat. Detached. Something dead and distant.

You recoiled like you had been slapped.

And then—just like that—the dam broke.

"What—what are you talking about?" Your voice was raw, uneven. You stood up, stepping toward her, reaching, desperate to close the distance, desperate to fix whatever this was. "Wednesday, what are you saying?"

She should have stepped back. She should have let the distance grow, should have put more space between you so that you couldn’t reach her, couldn’t touch her, couldn’t make this harder than it already was.

But she didn’t move. She let you get close—close enough that she could feel the heat of your body, close enough that she could see the unshed tears shining in your eyes.

"I don’t love you anymore," she said, forcing every word to sound empty, forcing herself to become the monster you needed her to be.

And there it was.

The breaking point.

“Wednesday, what are you talking about?” Your voice wavered, tears coming out of your eyes. “You don’t—this isn’t—just talk to me—”

Wednesday kept herself still, perfectly composed, even as her entire world was falling apart right in front of her.

“Talk to you?” she repeated, her voice as cold as she could make it. “What is there to talk about? It’s simple. I don’t want this anymore.”

"Tell me the truth," you begged, desperate now, searching her eyes for something—anything—that would tell you this wasn’t real. "Tell me what’s really going on, because this—this doesn’t make any sense."

She clenched her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms, the only thing keeping herself grounded, the only thing keeping herself from breaking.

"I don’t owe you an explanation," she said, and she hated herself for the way your face crumpled, the way your breathing grew uneven, the way you looked at her like she was a stranger, like you didn’t recognize her anymore.

"Was it all a lie?"

The question came so softly that, for a moment, she almost believed she had imagined it.

But then she met your gaze, and she saw the devastation there, saw the way you were holding onto the last thread of hope with trembling fingers.

And she had to cut it.

She nodded.

Another blade through your heart.

She turned away. She could not let you see. Could not let you catch the crack in her mask, could not let you see the way her own vision had started to blur, how her own hands had started to shake.

She moved toward the door, her steps measured, steady, controlled.

But before she could leave, before she could escape this nightmare she had willingly walked into, you spoke again.

"I would have done anything for you," you whispered, and it was not a plea, not a desperate attempt to make her stay. It was just a fact. Just the truth.

And that—that—was what destroyed her.

She gripped the door handle so tightly her knuckles went white.

And then she walked out.

She did not let herself turn back.

She did not let herself hesitate.

She left.

And she did not stop walking. Not when her breath started coming out uneven, not when her throat felt tight, not when her own nails bit into her palms hard enough to draw blood.

She walked and walked, until she was no longer sure where she was going, until she found herself outside her own dorm, until she found herself stepping onto the small balcony, alone beneath the night sky.

She thought about all the things she had stolen from you.

And she thought about how you would be better off without her.

She clenched her jaw.

This was for the best.

You would heal. You would move on. You would live.

That was all that mattered.

The door behind her slammed open, and Wednesday didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.

“Why Wednesday!” Enid demanded, “Why the hell would you do that?”

Wednesday exhaled slowly.

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t need to.

Because it was carved into her heart.

It would always be carved into her heart.

You deserved better.

[Author's note: To all my readers who think they aren't perfect, "Perfect" isn’t about how you look—it’s about the way the right eyes find something irreplaceable in you. Beauty isn’t measured by numbers or mirrors chief, it’s in laughter, in kindness, in the way you exist just as you are. You don’t have to shrink yourself to be loved. You are already enough, exactly as you are.]

And so, yeah, that's it... The Angst! I was actually planning on writing this as an origin story for my "You deserved better." one-shot...

BUT I might not do that and maybe idk write a part 2 depending on what you guys want in the comments.

Taglist:@rqizzu @sevyscoven @kingoftheracoons @kingofthings2 @masterofpuppets-10 @alexkolax @ognenniyvolk@mally-ka@protozoario@machyishere@freakshow2501@101rizzlrr @jinxslapdog @just-zy @gray-cheese @hellenheaven @blue-because-no-yellow @thyhooligans

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vampireimiko · 3 months ago

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Adam Warlock Relationship Headcanons !!

warnings, none!!

note, AYEE I LOVE ME SOME ADAM

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

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

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

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

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Adam is very protective of you, although he knows your a formidable fighter he can't stop himself from worrying about you from time to time.

If you’re hurt, even a small scrape, Adam panics. He cradles your hand like it’s the most delicate thing in the universe and dramatically vows, "I will not allow harm to come to you again."

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He is so unintentionally clingy!! He’s always standing way too close, leaning in when you talk, or absentmindedly touching your arm. But you don't mind it one bit. It's nice having a personal sun near you at all times.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° When he kisses you, it’s soft but incredibly focused, like he’s trying to memorize every second of it. If you tease him or make him flustered, he does not know how to handle it. The poor man will just short circuit entirely.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He is so blunt most of the time and he honestly cannot help it😭 If you ask him how you look, expect something like, "You always appear visually pleasing to me. That has not changed." He means well, he swears!!

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° If he ever sees someone flirting with you? Oh, he does not get jealous in the conventional way. Instead, he’ll just stare at them, step directly in front of you, and say in the most serious tone, "Your advances are unnecessary. They are already spoken for."

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° He does not understand sarcasm. At all. If you say something like, "Oh sure, Adam, let’s totally fight a hundred enemies by ourselves, what a great idea," he’ll just nod seriously and say, "I agree. Though, statistically, our chances of survival are low." That just makes you facepalm and hug the man.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° All in all you love the man and wouldn't change anything about him <33

additional note ! NETTEASE BUFF ADAM PLEASE 💔

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

#spirits works 🤍#x reader #marvel x reader #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock #marvel rivals x reader #marvel rivals #fem!reader #male!reader #gn!reader #black!reader

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urprettylildoe · 4 months ago

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𝒯𝓌𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝒹 𝒷𝓁ℴ𝓈𝓈ℴ𝓂

Yandere!classmate x popular!fem!reader

a shy guy and a spoiled girl. What a cliché romance story, right? Wrong. You were his since the beginning, all you needed was some motivation to realise it.

note: yandere thoughts/behaviour, blackmail, mean reader, implied vulgar videos.

♡︎

The door to the classroom shut.

Silence hung after as a stare-off contest ensued. Well, not exactly a stare-off — it was mostly your mean glare and Adam's gaze averted to the ground while he wrung his fingers together.

Your foot tapped against as you lazily looked up at the lanky boy in front of you, patience already running thin. "Well, what do you want?"

Big, puppy eyes darted around before landing on you. Yet, despite the obvious shyness, a hint of something intense lurked under the surface. A breathy chuckle left his lips as he bit the inside of his cheek. "Right. Right-"

The two of you have never spoken much. You were the type of person had the loudest laugh while surrounded by equally shallow friends who normalised your behavior. Why would a girl like you go out with a guy who blended into the background like furniture?

He rummaged through his bag as papers and books clumsily dropped in the process, apologies slipping past his lips while you tsked at his pathetic actions.

In between the mess he made, you caught odd mumbling along the lines of: "this has to be perfect" and "she'll understand me".

Finally, his eyes lit up like a christmas tree as his hand closed around the object he was looking for and pulled it out.

A white flower.

The way it rested in his grip felt...off. His fingers clung to it like it mattered. You didn't care for what kind it was. Probably a cliché romantic gesture, right?

With a nervous yet excited smile, he held it out. You inwardly groaned and braced yourself for the typical speech to come:

"Y/N, I-I think you're a very beautiful and amazing person-" says the guy ridiculed by you on multiple occasions, "-and this, well- I've l-liked you for a while and...I was hoping you'd go out with me?"

...

Silence. Absolute silence. Then you laughed.

Adam's hopeful expression crumbled as you doubled over, clutching your stomach.

It really wasn't your fault. In your defence, it was just so funny that he thought you'd say yes. You almost felt bad, but what were you supposed to do? Humor him? Yeah, that'd just be cruel. You wouldn't be caught dead with a guy like him. More like someone of your type — confident, a party animal and most likely a jock.

A few minutes passed before you found your bearings again. Dabbing at your eyes, you snickered as you eyed his now ashamed face, "Oh my god, it's adorable how you assumed I'd go out with someone like you."

Your words stung him like a physical blow to the heart. He flinched pitifully, sputtering, "I...I thought-"

"Well, you thought wrong." Nearly snarling that sentence, you brushed past his frozen form and headed for the door. "Now, get out of my way." All this for a waste of time? He might as well just've-

A rough arm closed around around yours, yanking you back and slamming you into the wall. He banged his hand on the wall beside your head, the sound reverberating through your entire being.

You winced, before starting to yell, "hey! what the fu..." your voice died down in your throat. His eyes were sharp and predatory, no longer holding that cheery innocence they did a few seconds ago but instead replaced with a glare. The air around you was thicker, like oxygen was sucked out of the room and swallowed by this boy. A cold shiver ran up your spine. Where did the gentle giant go?

And when he loomed over you, you suddenly realised how large the height difference was between the two of you.

"I was going to do this the nice way, but I'm afraid you left me no choice."

Your breath hitched — this wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to crumble or even shed a few tears, not smile like this was his plan all along. "What are you doing? Let go of me!" It was his turn to chuckle condescendingly, like you always did to him. A wolf and its prey. Except, the tables have turned this time around.

Maybe you did go a little too harsh on him and pushed his limits too much. Should you apologise? He's a sweet boy that's not beyond mending, after all. It's still the same old Adam.

His fingers played with the flowers petals as he asked while ignoring you, "do you know what Jasmines signify, honey?" It wasn't a question as he immediately continued rambling. "They show deep, deep love. And you rejected that love."

Mysteries hung in the air after his words as he turned to his phone, screen glowing against his features. You wanted, no, needed to tell him off as usual. What made it different now? And damn it, why couldn't you speak? His finger stopped scrolling. A manic grin grew on his lips.

"But don't worry, you'll accept it. One way or another."

Before you could even process his words, the screen was shoved into your face. The world stopped suddenly, ringing echoing in your ears.

Oh, no.

Sweat rolled down your temple, heart threatening to leap out of your ribcage. You didn't even notice the heavy pants leaving your lips as your throat felt awfully tight and closed up.

You blinked. Once, then twice. Still, the contents on his phone wouldn't disappear like you magically hoped they would. They were real.

In his opinion, you looked awfully cute like that. Wide-eyed as you adorably looked around for an exit. He couldn't help but croon at how powerless you looked right now, like you weren't such a bratty girl.

"W-what- you..." you swallowed, trying to pick up the shattered pieces of your confidence. "How?"

"it's simple, really." His cold, boney fingers cupped your cheek, but you jerked away. If he noticed, which he most certainly did, he didn't pay the action any mind while he continued his villainous monologue. "When you're practically invisible your whole life, people tend to underestimate your abilties. And I happened to know a little bit of hacking. That's how I found these...videos."

You didn't reply. You couldn't. Teeth sunk into your shaky bottom lip as you mustered up a weak glare, prompting a dark laugh out of him. He cooed, "honestly, I had fun watching most of these. I didn't know you were so naughty, baby. Who knew my pretty girl had such a big secret?"

Adam got his hands on a very delectable treat, that much was obvious. The real puzzle remained...and almost as if he realised the same thing, his smile inched further up his face. "Hm, what shall I do with these? It'd be a real shame if someone got a glimpse of you in all your beauty."

"Just tell me what you want."

He sighed in contentment, utterly delighted by the question of the hour. "I won't show these to anyone as long as you agree to my deal. You could keep your secret and I could get what I want. And I don't think that's much to ask, do you?"

Clammy hands balled up in frustration as you realised you hit a dead end, with Adam hot on your tail. He knew how much you basked in the loving attention and twisted it against you, that scumbag.

You peeked over his shoulder to see if there were any intruders before meeting his amused face again. You hushed urgently, "fine, what's the deal?"

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he placed a finger under your chin, tilting your face up. Dread curled up your spine the second you saw the triumphant smirk on his lips.

"I want you to be my girlfriend."

Did...did you hear him correctly? Girlfriend? You're pretty sure this qualified as blackmail, something the quiet guy at the back of class typing away would never be capable of doing. But now you weren't so sure you're looking at the same person.

"You'll let me go out with you, spend time with you and do whatever I tell you to. You'll be mine, and act like it." He bared his teeth this time, making his upper hand promineny.

Anger coursed through your veins. How dare he? "Screw you, you crazy psycho!"

His eyes narrowed with obvious displeasure, "be careful with your words. You wouldn't want anyone to hear about your..." he glanced down at his phone then back up at you, "...fetishes."

Your hands itched to slap that smug expression off of his face. Everything you worked so hard to build couldn't fall to the ground because of one pesky guy. For the first time in your life, you weren't the one in control.

"Y-you can't do this," the tone sounded more vunerable than intended. Adam's gaze softened in pity as he brushed a hair behind your ear, the action gentle and tender like he didn't just threaten you.

"Love, it's your choice in the end. Though, I promise to take care of you during our agreement." Was it really your choice, though?

It dawned on you in that very moment that Adam had hidden his claws all this time, patiently waiting and waiting as you ridiculed to play the right cards. If the intention wasn't hatred however, then what was it? You needed to tread carefully, then you'd be able to find a way to free yourself of his clutches.

Physically pained by how weak you felt, you dropped your gaze to the floor and slowly nodded. One thing was clear: you sold your soul to the devil.

"Good girl~" he said happily, patting your head. "I promise you won't regret this. I'll give you a few days to get used to this before we become official."

Carefully, he tucked the Jasmine into your hair. A sign of his twisted, deep-rooted love. Warm lips pressed against your cheek and you turned your head away, embarrassed.

You whispered softly, peering up at him through your lashes, "will you delete them now?"

"Delete them?" He quirked an amused brow, "I think I'll keep them for a while in case you get any ideas...but don't worry, be good and I'll think about it, m'kay?"

Adam slung his bag over his shoulder, watching his girlfriend stare at him in a daze. Poor thing, you're probably too flustered to even say anything. He'll definitely buy you more Jasmines, though. Maybe a bouqet?

This game should be fun. A predator and a prey switching roles? What a plot,

He'll keep those videos till the end of time if that's what it took to keep you with him. All of this until you love him.

♡

𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓁𝓎

@yourprettylildoe

#yandere #writing #original story #yandere x you #yandere x reader #writblr #story writing #Creative writing #Male yandere #male yandere oc #male yandere x reader #yandere stories #yandere story #Yandere thoughts #x reader #fem reader #Adam

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simpsdept · 1 year ago

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Okay! Sorry I haven’t posted for a little while!! It’s an extremely busy week . But I’m gonna start posting again! Hopefully by tonight!

But anyways- I have over 57 requests and I think I’m gonna shut requests by midnight tonight- so send in all your requests now before it closes!

Also, please let the requests, if romantic, be the female characters cause I am struggling with the male characters rn. If you request and the characters are male but it’s platonic then I’m fine with that.

Anyways thank you! (Requests won’t be closed that long)

OH AND ALSO THX SO MUCH FOR THE LIKES AND FOLLOWS!!!!

Thank you!!

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justsleepybeans · 1 month ago

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𝗩𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮 𝗧𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader(Y/n)

Story Notes: Reader is half-celestial, half-human. Adam is irrevocably obsessed. Yearning!!

Author Notes: I love Adam too much NOT to write about him. Bro needs to be buffed in MR tho. I listened to this while writing and proofreading! Def recommend for reading! Ambience Vid <-Link

Word Count: 7,746

—☆ KNOWHERE

The Kree were relentless but too cocky for their own good. You had just finished destroying the last fleet, their mission being to wipe out the existence of the harmless Utarians. You would've rather been at your favorite club in Contraxia but happened to be flying by when you saw the chaos. Peter had called in the middle of it all, his voice cutting out multiple times.

"Well, I think it would be nice if you joined us! It was your favorite holiday back on Earth, wasn't it?" he had asked with far too much enthusiasm for your liking. Halloween. Of course, he would know, considering you had shared that fact with him when you were "abducted" by Yondu and his crew off Earth, which was around the time you had found out you weren't just human.

Since then, Peter had been like a brother, except when he flirted horrendously with you in your mid-teens, which obviously didn't work out. Even though you didn't see each other much anymore, not after the Guardians formed, you two would still pick each other's favorite holidays and celebrate, his being Christmas, and yours? Halloween.

"(Y/n!)," Peter calls out your name as he walks towards you. Behind him is Gamora, and at her side, Mantis. However, there was someone else trailing behind them. A…golden man? You have seen many species in these galaxies, but none like him.

"Hi, Peter. Gamora. Mantis." you greet them all politely, giving an awkward little wave. The golden man steps forward, though he doesn't extend his hand. He stands there, closer now, and his chest is just a little more puffed out.

"I am Adam Warlock. We have not met."

"Clearly, we haven't. I'm-"

“(Y/n), yes. Peter spoke of you. He described you in precise detail." You look at Peter, giving him that 'the hell did you say about me' look. He puts his hands up in defense and promises it's nothing bad.

After a short debriefing between you and the girls, the four of you head into the center of Knowhere, where the Guardians live, and most things happen. The place seemed disjointed, colorful, and highly diverse amongst its citizens. Though, what you notice the most is the vast array of mismatched Halloween decorations. There were children of all kinds going around and ringing doorbells, knocking on doors, and then receiving some interesting-looking treats.

"So, you brought Halloween to Knowhere.", you say to Peter as you watch two kids fight over some tentacle-looking thing.

"Ah yeah, you know. It'd be nice to bring the culture. Plus, a way of getting to see you for once."

You smile at that, a feeling of admiration for Peter's thoughtfulness. However, all this Halloween stuff has you thinking of one thing. "Twizzlers?"

Peter raises his hand as if to stop you from speaking further. "Already done. When we went to Earth, we picked up plenty of candy and took loads of decorations."

"Wait…you took all of this? Peter, you can't just do that."

Peter shrugs, brushing your scolding off. "I'm just borrowing it."

—☆ FIRST SECOND ENCOUNTER

You've settled in your room, one of the many in the complex where the Guardians and others live. While laying down clothes you'd wear tonight for the "Halloween Party", you hear a soft knock on your door, followed by a slightly familiar deep voice.

"It's Adam."

The Warlock. Or Adam, so he's called, a name you'd find out he adopted. It suits him, you think. Setting down a pair of tights on the bed, you open the door. You're almost his height, so you don't have to look up much, though up close, you notice his eyes more. They're not exactly white, but a pale yellow, maybe light gold. The lack of pupils and complete coloring in his sclera should be unsettling, but you find it oddly...comforting.

"Hi. Adam. Do you need anything?"

“(Y/n)…I am...deeply attracted to you. I am certain I've felt a pull the moment you reached this galaxy. Then, when you came here, it became stronger than ever before. That's when I confirmed that it had to be you. It's a magnetism, and I cannot stay away longer. Allow me to court you."

Oh. Well…that is very direct.

“Oh…I…” You were left without words for a moment because how does one even respond to that from someone they met this morning? Was he sure that it was you? He's being ridiculous, you think, but the thought of entertaining this, whatever this is, was ever so tempting.

"I sense hesitation."

You shift your weight to your right side and tilt your head curiously. "Right, well, I did just meet you."

"Yes, I am aware."

You huff, somewhat annoyed but also amused. "Listen…whatever it is that you're feeling…I don't feel that. "

"Surely you must. I feel your celestial energy practically radiating off-"

"How do you know that." you interrupt him. He gives you a look that could only be described as confusion.

"I sense it. I am a cosmic being, (Y/n)."

"You're technically human," you argue.

"Perhaps—but I am far from any human. I was created with cosmic power," Adam takes a step closer, his eyes boring into yours like a hawk. "Allow me to court you."

"Stop saying that…feels like I'm in the Medieval times."

"Medieval times?"

Of course, he wouldn't know about that. "Nevermind. Just… that's now how things work, okay? Listen, I gotta start preparing for Peter's Halloween thing, so…"

"Right. Yes. The party. Very well, (Y/n). I hope you have time to…think about what I said."

"Mhm. I'll see you around."

With that, Adam gives you a slight nod, then walks off, his posture slightly less upright than usual. You watch him as he walks off and think to yourself, what if you say yes? What's the worst that could happen? A cosmic and celestial being coming together…surely nothing bad.

—☆ THE PARTY

You weren't wearing a costume.

Being invited on the day of a Halloween party, which doesn't even align with Earth's Halloween, would make it pretty damn hard to prepare a costume. Currently, it's October 28th on Earth, but close enough, right?

You carry a variety of clothes on your ship for all occasions, but not for a Halloween party. With a sigh, you smooth down the side of your red dress as you step into the center hall of one of the many buildings in Knowhere. This one was on the outskirts of the city and had a bar. The color of your dress matches your tights, deep and blood-warm, clinging like a second skin. It was the most Halloween-esque thing you could pull out.

The music was a mixture of strange tunes you hadn't heard before and some Earth songs you assumed came from Peter's tapes. You remember sharing an earbud with him and listening shoulder to shoulder on Yondu's ship. The crowds buzzed with sugar highs and very spiked drinks, beings of all kinds dancing without much rhythm, and the decorations glowed a little too bright for your liking as if a Spirit Halloween had blown up.

You scanned the place, finding Peter almost instantly, dual-wielding candy bowls and passing out the sweets while talking about famous horror movie slashers, who the citizens of Knowhere believed to be real people from how they were reacting. Mantis waved dramatically across the way, her cute buggy eyes locked on yours. Gamora was trying to keep Peter from falling on his ass, while Rocket was nowhere to be found, most likely on his usual antics with Groot. Drax seemed asleep, his head on the bar countertop, surrounded by a handful of empty bottles. And then—

There he was.

Adam.

Leaning against the wall like he had been carved there—perfect human and all. You may have turned down his advances, but you couldn't deny that he is, in fact, attractive. His expression is unreadable, as usual, and you notice he has no costume. He was still looking at you like he did earlier as if you were the only thing in this galaxy worth orbiting.

You reached for the table beside you, grabbed the nearest drink — bright neon green, fizzing, definitely alcoholic — and pretended not to notice him.

Didn't work.

He was already moving before you could take a second sip, golden eyes fixed, posture straight like he'd been waiting for a cue. He stopped in front of you. Too close, you think. Not close enough, you feel.

"(Y/n)," he said, voice low and smooth, "You didn't dress up."

"Neither did you."

"I didn't need to." Of course, he didn't.

You take another sip, eyes on him now. "You're staring."

"Perhaps I am."

There's a pause, though not awkward, but electric. Adam wasn't hiding it — the way he looked at you like he was trying to memorize every minuscule detail, though he never did hide it in the first place. Not once. It should've been unsettling, but somehow, it wasn't.

"You look..." He pauses, eyes trailing down your length, slow and deliberate. "Dangerous."

"Oh." You couldn't help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

Then, his voice quiet, as if he didn't want the crowd to hear, "Are you avoiding me, (Y/n)?"

After what happened earlier? Oh, you should've been, but no, you weren't...at least, not intentionally. Taking a deep breath, you look around before speaking up. "I'm gonna...go see how Peter's holding up."

You drifted, dancing near the edges of groups, getting pulled into half-hearted conversations with half-sober Ravagers and aliens in glittery face paint. But Adam was always there—watching without pressing, standing just far enough to give you space. Your drink was gone now, traded for a lollypop someone shoved into your hand with a slurred "Happy Humanween." Humanween? You didn't eat it, preferring your promised Twizzlers, which were nowhere to be seen. Instead, you rolled the stick between your fingers and your mind elsewhere. Still aware of him.

Then Peter—bless his drunk, clumsy soul—came barreling in out of nowhere, arms wide and voice loud, a bottle in one hand, and absolutely no concept of personal space, as usual.

"(Y/n)!" he called like he hadn't seen you some hours ago. His shoulder caught yours mid-spin, not hard, but enough to send you slightly off balance, your heel catching on the edge of the floor panel.

You were falling—until you weren't.

A hand wrapped around your upper arm, firm and warmer than others. Another gently caught your waist, steady and grounding.

Adam.

The contact wasn't much. Two hands, a beat of closeness, but it was enough. Too much.

It felt like something clicked, as if a thread snapped into place between your body and his, humming. Loud. Burning. Almost overbearing. You inhaled, chest still against his as you blinked at him, confused—for the first time— not by him, but by you.

Because you felt it. Whatever he had been talking about outside your room, all that talk of a magnetic pull, cosmic alignment—you felt it now, you think. It hit you fast and bright, like a fucking supernova, and far too much all at once.

You moved back quickly. Not dramatically. Okay...maybe a bit dramatic, but it was enough to break the contact. Adam's hands dropped, and though it wasn't visible, the imprint stayed. You could feel it.

"I—Peter's drunk," you used as an excuse to leave.

Adam's expression didn't change. But something in his eyes did. Softer. Knowing. He didn't have to say I told you so. He didn't even say anything at all.

He didn't have to because he knows you felt it. And worse? You know it, too.

Still—you wouldn't admit it. Not out loud. Not to him.

So you straightened your dress, fixed your hair like nothing happened, and pretended your heart wasn't beating inside your throat.

Adam said nothing, simply watching you with that same quiet hunger.

—☆ SUPERNOVA (5 Months Later)

It wasn't supposed to go this way. The mission was simple enough—answer the distress call of the Valturians and help out in whatever way was needed. You decided to tag along with the Guardians to help after Rocket bugged you about being a valuable asset. He also tried convincing you to join the Guardians, which you refused, and he may have tried to buy off your ship.

Though, you really wish you hadn't come.

Multiple fleets of the Kree appeared—a species you didn't exactly hate but were very annoyed with. However, a massive ship came out of hyperspace this time along with the fleet, sitting just above the atmosphere of Valtur. A loud voice boomed from the ship, practically shaking the ground.

"I hoped you would come, (Y/n). My men have been watching you. You didn't think that your destruction upon my fleet the other day would result in no punishment, did you?"

It was Al-Null—the leader who had stepped up to replace Ronan, The Accuser.

"I guess that's what happens when your cowardly ass ain't there with your men. I mean, come on, did you watch from your little jerk-off corner? Because listen, if you get off on that stuff, I'd say you need some therapy, buddy." The insult was very Peter-coded, showing just how much time you spent around him when you were with Yondu.

"You dare? You, the great mistake. Your father was the coward, and spineless to fall for some weak, pathetic excuse for an incubator. She died giving birth to something which was never meant to be. And you? You killed her. Since the day you were born you have caused nothing but chaos..."

The smile slowly fades off your face. And then, there's silence. At least, you think there is, but apparently, Al-Null kept going on and on. You couldn't hear him. You couldn't hear anything but your heart beating with such intensity that it felt like your head would explode.

Peter tenses up, having seen the degree of your powers firsthand. Gamora's hand hovers over her blaster inside her holster, though not exactly for the Kree. She knows what you can do because Peter told her before, but she also knows that a blaster won't stop you. Not even close.

The rage builds within you like a supernova waiting to burst. Your vision begins to blur at the edges, turning red with fury. You can feel your celestial power surging through your veins, threatening to overflow. Your feet lift off the ground as energy crackles around you.

"(Y/n)," Adam's voice cuts through the haze, steady and grounding. "Look at me."

But you can't. All you see is the massive Kree ship and all you hear are Al-Null's words about your mother echoing in your mind. The power builds, your hands glowing with energy as you prepare to unleash devastation upon the fleet.

"She is losing control," Mantis whispers, her antennae quivering with anxiety.

Peter steps forward cautiously. "(Y/n), hey, don't listen to that blue asshole—"

With a scream, you take off up into space, a colorful aura of hot energy trailing behind you like a flying torch.

The first ship explodes before anyone can react, pieces of metal and screaming Kree soldiers tumbling through the void of space. You're a blazing comet, your celestial power unleashed in its rawest form. Another blast from your hands tears through a second vessel, then a third.

"By the stars," Drax murmurs, watching the destruction from below.

Adam doesn't hesitate. He launches himself upward, his own golden energy propelling him toward you. He can feel your pain, your rage—a hurricane of emotions that threatens to consume not just the Kree fleet but yourself.

In space, surrounded by debris and fire, you hover before Al-Null's command ship, hands raised to obliterate it. Your body pulses with celestial light, eyes glowing with power no half-human should possess. You don’t remember what happened next, but you do remember that it was cold, and quiet, your body floating without any constraints of gravity.

—☆ TETHER

When you awake, it's not in the vacuum of space or surrounded by the wreckage of Kree ships. You're in a dimly lit room, lying on something soft. Your body feels heavy, drained of the celestial energy that had threatened to tear you apart.

"She's awake," Mantis says softly from somewhere nearby.

You try to sit up, but a gentle hand presses against your shoulder. "Don't," Adam says, his voice closer than you expected. "Your body needs time to recover."

As your vision clears, you see him sitting beside you, his expression unreadable yet somehow concerned. Behind him, Peter paces nervously while Gamora watches from the doorway.

"What happened?" Your voice is hoarse, barely audible.

"You nearly destroyed an entire Kree armada," Gamora answers matter-of-factly.

"Cool…," you manage to utter, your voice barely more than a whisper, strained and fragile.

Peter takes a tentative step toward you, his face etched with concern. "You should sleep. Al-Null escaped, but most of his fleet is scattered across three sectors."

"Doesn't matter," you mutter, attempting to push yourself up again. "He's still out there. He’s still—"

"You need recovery time," Gamora interjects firmly. "Even celestials have limits."

Adam's gaze hasn't left your face since you awoke, his golden eyes tracking every expression that crosses your features. There's something different in the way he's looking at you now—not hungry, but... protective. Soft.

"We'll check on the Valturians," Rocket announces, already heading for the door. "Make sure they ain't got more surprises waitin'."

"I am Groot," comes the agreeable response.

Peter hesitates, clearly torn between going off with the Guardians and staying to watch you. He comes to the decision to go off with them, but, Adam stays, much to your slight annoyance. You had planned to just sneak off when they were all gone.

"We'll be back soon," Peter says with a final concerned glance. "Just... stay put, okay?"

You nod halfheartedly, waiting for the door to slide shut behind the Guardians before immediately throwing your legs over the side of the bed. Your body feels surprisingly good—the celestial half of you working overtime to repair the damage.

"Where do you think you're going?" Adam's voice is calm but firm as he steps between you and the door.

"To finish what I started," you reply, standing up straight. "Al-Null is still out there."

"No." The single word carries the weight of a thousand. Adam doesn't raise his voice, but his eyes shine with intensity.

"Move, Adam. This isn't your fight."

He steps closer, golden skin catching the dim light. "You nearly burned yourself out. Even with your healing abilities, that level of power expenditure—“

“I said move.”

He stays put, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes now harder—firm and demanding. “No. You’re not leaving.”

A surge of anger rushes through you. Who does he think he is to tell you what you can and cannot do? The energy within you flickers to life again, not as powerful as before, but enough to make the air around you thick with tension.

"Get out of my way," you hiss, taking a step forward. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, a faint glow emanating from beneath your skin.

Adam doesn't budge. Instead, he moves closer, his own cosmic energy rising to meet yours. The space between you becomes charged, golden tendrils of his power weaving with the aura of yours.

"I will not let you destroy yourself," he says, voice dropping lower. "Your recklessness will be your undoing."

"My 'recklessness' is none of your concern!" You shove against his chest, but he barely moves. His body is warm and solid against your palms, and the contact sends a jolt through your system, like it did months ago at the Halloween party. You hadn't come into physical contact with him since that day.

"Get out of my way," you snarl, shoving harder this time, your energy flaring. The room's lights flicker as your power pulses outward.

Adam's hand suddenly catches your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "Enough." His voice has dropped an octave, resonating with authority.

"Let go of me!" You wrench your arm, but he holds fast, pulling you closer until your bodies are nearly flush against each other. The air between you crackles with energy—yours wild and chaotic, his controlled but equally potent.

"You're not thinking clearly," he says, his face now inches from yours. "Your emotions are clouding your mind. Don't be rash."

You’d come to regret what you do next, but a small part of you wouldn't, and never will. You emit a sudden wave of energy, sending Adam flying back against the wall, hitting it hard enough to leave a small crack. “I told you to move.”

You make a beeline for the door, your mind focused on one thing. Al-Null.

You barely make it two steps before a golden blur moves with inhuman speed. Adam is suddenly before you, his eyes blazing with an intensity you've never seen from him. In one fluid motion, he grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pushing you back against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs.

"No," he growls, pinning you there with his body. His hands move to capture your wrists, holding them firmly against the wall on either side of your head. "You will listen to me."

Your celestial energy surges in response to the threat, but Adam's power counters it immediately, creating a cocoon of golden light that seems to dampen your abilities. You struggle against his grip, but his strength matches yours in your weakened state.

"Let me go!" you snarl, thrashing against his hold.

Adam leans closer, his face mere inches from yours. "You would risk your life for revenge," he says, his voice dangerously low. "I cannot allow that."

Something shifts in his eyes—a decision made—and suddenly his grip tightens. You feel it then, a strange sensation like a thread being pulled from deep within your chest, connecting to him. His eyes glow brighter, the golden light intensifying as he presses his forehead against yours.

"If you won't listen to reason," he whispers, "then feel what I feel."

A wave of foreign emotion crashes into you—concern so deep it borders on anguish, fear so primal it makes your heart race, and beneath it all, a devotion so absolute it takes your breath away. These aren't your feelings. They're his.

"What are you doing to me?" you gasp, trembling under the weight of his emotions pouring into you.

"A soul bond."

Your body suddenly feels weak as the wave of emotions crash over you. Was this everything he felt? All this time? All of this, and yet he always managed to seem like everything was under control—the complete opposite of you. You somewhat tried to snap out of it, feelings of anger still there. “Stop…I don’t understand..,” you breathe, your resistance weakening as the soul bond takes hold.

His golden eyes bore into yours, pupils dilated with something primal. "I've tethered us together," he murmurs., "Now you'll understand."

The connection between you pulses like a living thing, and suddenly your senses are heightened, every point where his body touches yours sending electric currents through your skin. Your anger dissolves into something else entirely—a mixture of pain and longing that mirrors his own.

"I can feel everything you feel," Adam whispers, his grip on your wrists loosening but not releasing. "Your rage, your pain...”

You gasp as his emotions flood through you—possessiveness, need, and a desperate yearning that makes your knees weak. The bond amplifies everything, creating a feedback loop of sensation between you, as if trying to take away, or rather, distract your anger.

Adam's eyes narrow, something dark and primal flickering across his face. In one fluid motion, he spins you around, your chest now pressed against the wall, his body flush against your back. The heat of him radiates through your clothes, his breathing heavy against your ear.

His arm snakes around, fingers splaying across your throat before moving upward to grasp your face, thumb and fingers gently digging into your cheeks as he tilts your head back against his shoulder.

"Do you remember what I asked of you?" he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "When I came to your door?" His grip on your face is firm but careful, holding you in place as if you might slip away. "I asked to court you."

You don't answer—can't answer with his fingers pressing into your cheeks, but your true feelings become clear through the soul bond.

"You truly feel it now," he breathes, the words vibrating against your skin. "The connection that's been there since I first sensed you across this galaxy. My mate."

"Mate? What are you—"

But Adam doesn't explain, doesn't pause to clarify. He captures your mouth with his own before you can finish, your body still sandwiched between him and the cold wall, though his higher-than-average body temperature provided the perfect warmth. The kiss was far from gentle, instead full of possession and need.

His hand drifts from your face to your throat, not squeezing too hard but maintaining enough pressure to hold you in place. His other hand slips beneath your top, his palm pressed flat against your stomach to pull you closer as his lips roughly claim yours. Eventually, he parts them, leaving behind a thin thread of mixed saliva lingering between your lips before it breaks.

"I've been waiting," he murmurs softly by your ear, "ever since I first sensed you." His hand moves lower, dangerously near your clothed core, then his fingers travel over the delicate fabric of your panties before venturing further down to explore the damp spot beneath.

"Adam," you gasp as his fingers confidently press against your mound.

"Is this the effect I have on you?"

You bite back a moan as his digits locate the side seam of the soft fabric and tug it aside just enough to expose you.

“You don't need to voice it. I already know,” he whispers, gently running his fingers through your slick folds, tracing a line up to your clit before pressing down, testing your reaction.

"Oh—" you sigh, tensing as a jolt shoots through your nerves. While you have touched yourself before, the connection between your souls amplifies everything. You barely have time to register how different this feels as his fingers begin with light, deliberate strokes before progressing into slow, circular motions. "Adam…"

To your mixed frustration and arousal, he withdraws his hand from your pants, instead grabbing your hip firmly, leaving your core softly pulsating, getting wetter by the second.

"You're coming with me."

—☆ COCOON

His room is simple yet filled with lush green plants that fill the space with warmth and a welcoming energy—every scent in the room reminiscent of him, intensified by the soul bond.

His hands stay on your hips as he gently guides you against the wall by his bed. Leaning in close, his lips brush behind your ear while his nose caresses your skin as he takes in your scent. “I need you to smell more like…me.”

Smirking against his tousled blonde hair, you tease, “You take me to your room and yet you don’t put me on your bed,” while he continues to nuzzle, savoring every nuance.

His tongue flicks behind your ear before traveling down to your neck, sending shivers that ripple between your thighs. “I know,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shudder at the moist trail of his tongue, surprised by how soft it feels despite his synthetic nature. “You’re like a damn cat…”

“I’m not exactly sure what a cat is, (Y/n),” he replies, as his hands slide from your hips to your ribcage. With large, steady hands, he lifts you off the floor. “But if that’s how they behave, maybe I am.”

His bed is firm—a perfect match for him if not entirely for you—and he settles on his side behind you, drawing your body close so you blend together. One of his arms wraps around your neck gently, while his hand travels along your collarbone, down to your chest. His fingers brush over your hardened nipple through the fabric of your top, pinching it lightly with curious care.

“Hmm,” he purrs, shifting from a soft pinch to cradling your breast with a gentle squeeze. Meanwhile, his other hand glides briefly across your stomach before returning to your growing center. “You’re... so soft.”

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties again, finding you wet and wanting. The bond between you heightens every sensation—you feel his touch as deeply as he feels the effect it has on you. “And here, too,” he murmurs, slowly gliding his fingers up and down, deliberately teasing the wet heat of your folds before lightly rubbing your clit.

A quiet moan fills the room as his fingers pick up pace, each rhythmic movement sending waves of pleasure through you. He shifts slightly, partly laying over you, pressing his hardness against your ass even as his hand continues its exploration. His warm, erratic breath against your neck reveals his own mounting desire. “I want you to feel what I feel,” he whispers with raw intensity.

The energy between you builds as Adam’s presence seems to fill the space. Moving his hand lower, he pushes two long fingers inside you, meeting no resistance as you arch your hips toward him.

“Adam—” you breathe, but your voice falters as he curls upward, finding that soft spot inside and pressing with precise intensity.

A rush comes over you, skin tingling like pins and needles, your muscles tightening around his fingers. Your breath catches in sharp cries as they curl again, fucking you with a steady rhythm until you feel yourself cumming around them.

He doesn’t stop. Even as your body shudders with aftershocks, his fingers remain, now moving slowly and tenderly as they explore each reaction. “So responsive,” he murmurs against your neck, withdrawing his hand to taste you. “Your taste,” he breathes, as if it were the most precious flavor.

Before you can reply, Adam moves with fluid precision down your body until his shoulders rest between your legs. His hands press firmly on your thighs, gently spreading you open. “I need more.”

His golden eyes lock onto yours—seeing you wet, flushed, and completely exposed. He leans in, his breath sending shivers through your already sensitive core. Then his mouth latches onto you, warmth and urgency igniting every nerve as his tongue replaces his fingers.

“Oh fuck—Adam,” you gasp, the sound airy in the heavy room.

He doesn’t pause or hesitate. His focus is complete, consuming. The bond magnifies everything—the texture of his tongue as it works its way inside you, pushing deeper before flicking up around your clit with steady precision. The friction sends waves through your body, overwhelming and perfect all at once.

You writhe beneath him, gasping as his grip tightens on your thighs to keep you still. The tension coils inside you, rising so fast it steals your breath and turns it into ragged cries.

Even as you cry out, he doesn’t relent. Your body tenses again, but he keeps going like he needs every last drop of you.

“Adam,” you plead softly.

His response is a low, vibrating hum that sends tremors through you. He shifts his hold on your thighs, flipping you onto your stomach and lifting your hips with sure guidance. The change makes you gasp as his hands spread you open. You squirm beneath him, desperate for more than just his mouth.

Holding you there, exposed and needy, he commands softly, “Be good.”

His mouth resumes its work with unwavering hunger, the wet heat of his tongue driving you wild as his hand lands with a quick, light smack on your ass. The sharp sensation makes you catch your breath, your body jolting in surprise.

“Adam,” you gasp again, his name melting into a moan as he soothes the sting with his palm before delivering another firm, playful slap—adding to the building intensity inside you.

“That…was for earlier,” he whispers against your slick heat before plunging his tongue back inside. His hands keep your hips steady while he devours you from behind, each movement pushing you closer to a place you have never reached. His hand slips between your legs, his fingers exploring until they find you wet and swollen, then push inside again, moving with a rhythm that matches his tongue.

The intensity builds impossibly as he takes you higher, pushing beyond any limit you’ve ever known. The motions of his mouth and fingers combine into a perfect storm of sensation that leaves you breathless, gasping for something you can’t name.

“Too much,” you choke out, barely audible amid the overwhelming rush. But it isn’t too much—it’s exactly what you need.

A tidal wave of pleasure surges through you, larger than anything you’ve ever known. And then—

You’re cumming—and, you’re squirting. A lot.

He pulls back slightly, watching with fascination as you ride the aftershocks. Breath ragged, you search for words—but Adam shifts again, his movements deliberate as he climbs up your body, slowing down until you find yourself pressed against his chest.

“Turn around,” he murmurs darkly in your ear, his hands guiding your hips until you face him, breathless and ready.

His mouth meets yours once more with an urgent, unapologetic kiss. His hands are everywhere—one tangling in your hair to tilt your head back for deeper access, another sliding down your back while one more grabs your ass, pulling you against the hard outline of his suit. His need is clear, insistent as he rolls his hips with growing urgency.

You feel his hardness, the bond amplifying every touch until your pulse races and you grind against him. The friction makes you gasp into his kiss, and he swallows your sounds with matching hunger.

Breaking the kiss, he watches you with a look of pure possession, as if he’s claiming every part of you, before his fingers trace gently across your lips. “I need to know,” he murmurs softly, “every part of you.”

With a subtle insistence, he guides your lips to his fingers, letting you taste him. You hum softly against his skin as your tongue meets his touch, exploring deeper.

His eyes darken at the feeling, a new fascination taking over. The slick warmth of your mouth wraps around him, and he pushes further than expected—just a little too far—brushing the back of your throat.

You gag slightly, eyes wide as the small sound echoes between you. He seems to enjoy it—more than he probably should—and a dark thrill pulses through him, leaving both of you breathless with need. He pushes further, feeling the wet, flexible tissue, earning another soft gag from you, to which he groans in satisfaction.

His fingers slip from your mouth, leaving you flushed and gasping. “I want all of you,” he murmurs, voice low and claiming. “Everywhere.”

With sudden speed, he rolls onto his back and pulls you up to straddle him, your thighs spread beside his waist. His hands hold your hips firmly, positioning you as if he’s certain this is where you belong.

The thin fabric of his suit does little to hide the hard length pressed against you. He rocks upward so you can feel the full weight of his desire. You can barely breathe as he holds you there, his eyes burning into yours with a look that leaves no doubt—you’re his.

“Take it off,” he orders softly.

You’ve never seen him so raw and demanding.

His fingers dig into your hips, guiding the movement as you press against him. You’re flushed and breathless, the urgency in his touch mirrored by your own desire.

Somewhere along the way, he had stripped you of all your clothes. It was only right to return the favor. Your hands tremble until they reach the seam of his suit, peeling it away to reveal the hard, eager length straining between his thighs. The sight was…ethereal. It was thick, very thick, and just the perfect length for you. The base matched his golden skin, while the color fades to a lighter gold towards the tip.

Lifting you slightly, he positions you above him with confidence that quickens your pulse. The tip of his cock presses against your entrance, slick already from his earlier efforts. He doesn’t push inside—not yet—but the pressure is enough to leave you trembling.

“I want you,” he growls, his voice rough with need. “I want you now.”

There’s no question about who’s in charge—and you realize just how much you crave him. With a firm grip on your hips, he lifts you just enough to let the head tease your entrance before slowly letting you sink down. It’s both intense and teasing, filling you inch by inch until he’s deep inside.

“Ohh fuck…big…you’re so…”

Not ready to give up control, his hands still guide your hips as you ride him slowly at first, adjusting to the fullness and heat inside. The rhythm is gentle, allowing each shared sensation to build with the bond linking you.

You tilt your head back with a moan, your body arching as his movements stretch you perfectly. Even now, every pulse sends waves of pleasure through both of you.

Then it becomes too much for him to hold back.

The primal need takes over. His grip tightens and he starts thrusting harder, faster—a force that makes you cry out.

His hands leave your hips, gliding up your back to pull you closer against him. Your chests meet, and he wraps his arms around you, locking you in place as he drives into you with raw, unrestrained force.

Every thrust sends shockwaves of sensation, each movement deep and deliberate, claiming you again and again.

Adam’s breath is hot against your neck, ragged with desire as he thrusts relentlessly. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the space, accompanied by his low growls and your breathless cries.

“Is that good? You like this? Tell me you do.”

“Y-Yes, I—,” Clinging tightly to him, your fingers dig into his shoulders as he fucks you harder in response.

“Good,” he breathes against your skin, a single word full of possession.

A soft glow begins to shine behind your eyes, resembling the colors of your celestial aura, reflecting in his burning gaze. The sight sends a shiver through him, and his eyes blaze with soft gold as he watches you unravel in his embrace.

The room grows thick with heat and tension, your bodies slick with sweat. His grip tightens even more, drawing you closer until there’s no space left.

“Fuck—Adam!” You cry out as the friction builds impossibly high, pushing you both to the edge.

The rush of sensation becomes overwhelming—you could feel everything he felt on top of how his cock rammed inside you over and over. Then, in an explosion of pleasure, you’re cumming.

A surge of energy courses through every nerve as your body convulses, releasing all at once. You tremble, barely coherent, while Adam’s mouth remains on you, savoring all of you.

He pulls back slightly, watching with fascination as you ride the aftershocks. The bond between you amplifies everything, until it feels like every sensation is doubled. His steady hold keeps you grounded as your body trembles against him.

Catching your breath, you try to find words, but Adam moves with quick precision, turning you over onto your back, still inside of you.

He's relentless now, determined and unyielding as he pins you beneath him, fucking you with raw intensity, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, the sounds filling the room. The shift leaves you gasping, unable to find words.

With a deep groan, he moves faster, harder—a force of nature that leaves you breathless. His hands seize your wrists again, pinning them above your head with firm control.

“You’re mine,” he breathes fiercely, his eyes wild with hunger.

You can barely respond as each thrust sends shockwaves through you, building into a storm of shared sensation that fills every inch of space.

“Adam,” you gasp, barely coherent as white-hot pleasure takes over.

With a primal growl, he drives into you one last time—deep and claiming. Then he cums so hard that it leaves him trembling above you. A low groan escapes his lips as he fills you completely, the hot temperature of his cum rushing through your pussy.

He keeps moving, his hips rocking with focused intent like he wants to fill you until there’s no space left. “So much,” he whispers in awe, voice low and rough. “Take all of it.”

You feel him emptying into you—again and again—each pulse deliberate and consuming. The sensation is overwhelming, a flood that leaves you gasping.

He slows but doesn't stop, his thrusts shallow and steady, aiming right at your g-spot as his release seems endless. His lips brush your ear, murmuring with soft insistence that makes your heart race. “I’ll fill you with everything,” he breathes, the words wrapping around you like a promise. “Make you mine completely.”

The bond amplifies each word, every sensation, until it takes over your body entirely. Breathless and overwhelmed, you arch against him as the feeling builds again.

“Oh—fuck!” Another orgasm rushes through you in waves of overwhelming release. Your body tightens around him, leaving you breathless and shaking beneath him.

Adam holds you still, his primal need unrelenting as he fills you with consuming warmth. He groans, low and satisfied, whispering your name like a claim.

Seconds feel like minutes that stretch into forever, until he slows to a stop, body tense and trembling above you.

Then he pulls out, finally, his thick cum spilling from you. But Adam’s fingers are already there, picking up whatever he could, which was leaking out from your used hole from the sheer volume of it all.

Oh—

His brows knit with focus as though a sudden new fascination overtakes him. His thick seed leaks past his fingers even as they slide in and out, faster now, until wet sounds fill the room and your breath catches ragged in your throat.

You gasp, knowing what he's trying to do—and embarrassed despite yourself after what happened earlier. The sight of it had entranced him too much. Again? Really?

“Wait—,” you plead, your hands already moving to try and stop him.

Adam shifts up and his hand catches your face, firm and commanding. He holds you there, keeping your eyes locked on his as he watches each reaction, intent and consuming. His fingers never slow, relentless as they push deeper, stretching and filling you with everything he has.

“Let me,” he whispers.

You writhe beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch and the steady pressure inside you. The bond amplifies each sensation until it feels like too much. You’re already so close again—and Adam knows it.

A dark thrill pulses through him as he picks up speed, driving into you with raw precision. He wants to see you cum again like you did—a crying, squirting mess. And judging by that look in his eyes, he doesn’t plan on stopping there.

"Be good," he breathes, his grip tightening on your face.

Your pulse races as his fingers pistoned into you with building force, reaching deeper than before. "You're gonna...make me cum..." You can barely breathe, the relentless rhythm pushing you higher until—

You cum again, a flood of sensation and warmth erupting in a way that leaves you gasping for air. This time it's even more intense, your body releasing with such force that you feel it everywhere. An almost transparent, milky liquid rushes past his hand in hot, uncontrollable waves, soaking him completely. Your eyes roll back as the bond flares bright behind them. "Fucking hell—Adam!" you cry out, voice breaking with each surge of pleasure.

Adam watches in awe, golden eyes wide as he sees you unravel beneath him. His breath catches at the sight of your wetness spilling over his fingers, dripping onto the sheets with each convulsion of your body.

He grows harder still at the sight—the pressure so intense that it pushes him over.

“(Y/n)—” The word escapes his lips in a low groan as he cums hard and untouched, white hot ropes spilling across your stomach.

He continues fucking you with his fingers, his touch relentless despite his own release. The pleasure is overwhelming, eventually your body shaking with aftershocks. Only then does he slow, watching as the last tremors rock through you.

Breathless and exhausted, you collapse against the sheets, your skin damp and flushed. Adam pulls his hand away finally, fingers glistening wet as he traces them up your stomach before bringing them to his lips.

He tastes you slowly, deliberately—his gaze locked on yours with a look of pure possession. You can feel the effect it has on him as though it were your own.

The bond still flares bright between you, every shared sensation magnified until it feels like there’s no boundary left. For the first time, you understand what it means to belong completely to someone—and have them belong entirely to you.

You draw in a ragged breath while your body shudders beneath him. “You’re insane,” you murmur softly against his lips.

Adam's mouth curves into a slight, breathless grin. He shifts onto his side next to you, pulling your body close and keeping it there. “Then you are, too.”

Knowing you’re not going anywhere now, Adam’s arms wrap around you with an unyielding grip. His breath is warm against your skin as he nuzzles against you, his need to mark with scent strong. He seems content to have you so close, to feel every inch of you pressed against him in the quiet aftermath.

You draw a deep breath, letting your senses adjust to the new reality between you. It feels different now—right. Like something that was missing has finally clicked into place.

Don’t be rash 🤚🏼

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x fem!reader #adam warlock x y/n #marvel rivals fic #adam warlock smut #adam warlock x you

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alsofoundinpeas · 6 months ago

Text

Rewind the Goodbye

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a battle it was.

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

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

"Jesus fucking Christ—"

"Why have you been ignoring me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, he did the opposite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…How did you find out where I live?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are my home.”

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

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

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x self insert #angst with a happy ending #boy oh boy do I hate Cat Adams

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