JMK

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3000+

Warnings: Manipulation, a lot of talking, sex.

A/n: The narrative can be choppy, I had to rewrite a couple of moments, sorry. English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

The morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting soft, golden hues across the bedroom. Y/N stirred, her eyes fluttering open to a world that no longer required the timid facade she had so carefully maintained. Beside her, Agatha’s arm rested lightly over her waist, a tangible reminder of the game Y/N had played—and won. The bait was taken; now it was time to revel in the shift.

With a languid stretch, Y/N slid out from under Agatha’s arm, careful not to wake her. She tied the robe around her waist, its loose fabric falling just enough to hint at the body beneath without revealing too much. Her movements were deliberate, fluid, every step a quiet testament to the confidence she no longer bothered to hide. Her bare feet padded across the floor as she made her way to the kitchen.

In the serene quiet of the morning, Y/N moved with an elegance that bordered on the predatory. Her fingers grazed the countertop as she prepared coffee, the faint clink of mugs and the gurgling of the pot the only sounds in the still house. A satisfied smile curved her lips as she let her thoughts wander. Agatha’s growing attachment was palpable, her walls crumbling with every calculated move. Y/N could feel it—the pull, the inevitability of the older woman’s surrender.

The faint shuffle of footsteps broke the stillness, and Y/N glanced over her shoulder just as Agatha appeared in the doorway. The older woman’s hair was slightly mussed, her expression drowsy but soft with the lingering haze of sleep. “What’s she up to now ?” Agatha muttered, her voice low and teasing.

The sight before her made Agatha falter.

Y/N stood by the counter, cradling a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. The robe hung loosely around her frame, hinting at her curves but offering nothing overt. Her posture was confident, her weight shifted just enough to highlight the subtle lines of her body. But it was her smile—easy, knowing, and utterly self-assured—that stopped Agatha in her tracks.

“Good morning,” Y/N said, her voice rich and warm, her tone carrying a trace of playfulness. She took a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes meeting Agatha’s with unflinching ease.

Agatha blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Y-Y/N?” she stammered, her usual sharpness dulled by confusion.

Y/N’s smile widened, and she set the mug down with a soft clink. “You seem surprised,” she said, her voice carrying a lightness that was almost amused.

Agatha leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms as she studied the young woman before her. “You’re not acting like the girl I knew.”

“No,” Y/N admitted easily, her head tilting slightly. “That girl was... convenient. You seemed to like her, though.”

“Convenient?” Agatha echoed, her brows furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N stepped closer, her movements slow but not calculated—there was no need to force what was already unfolding. “It means,” she said, her voice dipping slightly, “that I’m done pretending.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, her sharp gaze fixed on Y/N’s every move. The young woman radiated an energy Agatha hadn’t felt in centuries—a subtle but unmistakable authority that demanded attention. Despite herself, Agatha couldn’t resist pressing further. “If you’re done pretending,” she said, crossing her arms, “then what is it you’re really after?”

Y/N’s smug smile softened just enough to hint at something darker beneath. “I’m here to set things right,” she said, her voice calm but firm. She turned slightly, her emerald-green aura shimmering faintly as if drawn out by her own words. “There’s a balance to this world, Agatha, one that’s been shattered.”

Agatha’s brows furrowed, unease crawling up her spine. “Balance?” she echoed, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. “What are you talking about?”

Y/N turned back to her, her movements slow and deliberate. “Wanda’s little miracle,” she said softly, almost mockingly. “Her boys. They don’t belong here.”

Agatha’s lips thinned, but not from concern for the twins. Her sharp mind was already leaping ahead, calculating the potential damage Y/N’s meddling could do to her plans. “And what do you intend to do about it?” she asked, her tone edged with suspicion.

“They were made from chaos itself,” Y/N continued, ignoring the question. Her voice was steady and unyielding, carrying the weight of an absolute truth. “Magic like that doesn’t create life without consequences. They’re a tear in the fabric of what’s natural, and I’m here to fix it.”

Agatha crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “Fix it? You mean ruin everything I’ve been building.”

Y/N arched a brow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, Agatha,” she said, her tone laced with condescension. “This isn’t about your petty little schemes.”

“Petty?” Agatha snapped, bristling. “Do you have any idea how much work it’s taken to get this close to Wanda? To even begin unraveling her power?”

“I do,” Y/N replied smoothly, her smirk widening. “And that’s why I’m giving you this chance to rethink things.”

Agatha took a step forward, her frustration flaring into anger. “I don’t care about the twins, but if you throw off the delicate balance I’ve created here, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Y/N cut in sharply, her voice suddenly cold. The emerald aura around her flared brighter, crackling with an otherworldly energy. “Do you really think you can stop me, Agatha?”

The room seemed to grow colder, the air charged with a heavy, oppressive weight. Y/N’s expression shifted, the teasing edge fading as her gaze bore into Agatha with a terrifying intensity. “Do you even know who I am?”

Agatha faltered, her words catching in her throat. “Who are you?” she managed, her voice quieter than she intended.

Y/N stepped closer, her presence overwhelming as her aura expanded to fill the space between them. “I’m the natural order of all things,” she said, her voice low and resonant, carrying a weight that seemed to press down on Agatha’s chest. “The one who ensures the balance remains intact. I am Death.”

The declaration hung in the air, heavy and final, as though the room itself recognized the truth of her words. Agatha’s heart pounded, her instincts screaming at her to retreat, to run. But she stood her ground, her sharp mind struggling to reconcile the confident young woman before her with the cosmic force she claimed to be.

“You’re not just here for the twins,” Agatha said slowly, her voice tight. “You’re here to take control.”

“I’m here,” Y/N replied, her tone softening but losing none of its authority, “because chaos has disrupted the natural order. Wanda, her children, this town—it’s all a festering wound in the fabric of existence. And I’m the cure.”

Agatha’s mind raced. She didn’t care about the twins or their so-called place in the universe. What mattered was preserving her own plans, ensuring Wanda’s power remained within reach. But confronting Death itself? That was a gamble even she wasn’t sure she could win.

“And where do I fit into all this?” Agatha asked carefully, masking her growing unease with a veneer of calm.

Y/N’s smirk returned, wicked and knowing. “Oh, Agatha,” she purred, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re clever enough to figure that out. You’ve spent lifetimes clawing at the edges of power, chasing the Darkhold’s secrets. I can give you what you’ve been searching for—if you’re willing to play along.”

Agatha stiffened. “And what do you want in return?”

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear as she whispered, “To play, Mommy. To feel your clever little mind unravel under my hands.” Her voice was a velvet caress, each word heavy with suggestion. “And maybe, if you behave, I’ll give you what you want.”

Agatha swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as Y/N pulled back, her gaze steady and unrelenting. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, the truth of what stood before her too monumental to ignore.

“You’re insane,” Agatha said finally, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Maybe,” Y/N replied, stepping back with a grin. Her emerald aura shimmered faintly around her, crackling like distant thunder. “But I always win, Agatha. And you? You’ve never been one to turn down a winning hand.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened as she watched Y/N return to her coffee, the younger woman’s smug confidence filling the room like a storm cloud. The word Death echoed in Agatha’s mind, and despite her centuries of experience, a sliver of doubt crept in. It wasn’t fear—not exactly—but an acute awareness that she was no longer the apex predator in the room.

She took a deep breath, forcing her mask of calm back into place. “If you’re so powerful,” Agatha said, her voice sharp as a blade, “why do you need me at all? You could snap your fingers and undo Wanda’s magic, take the twins, and be done with it.”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “True,” she admitted. “But where’s the fun in that?” She turned fully, her robe shifting just enough to hint at the body beneath. “Besides, you’re useful to me, Agatha. For now.”

“Useful,” Agatha repeated, her tone flat. “How flattering.”

Y/N’s smirk deepened, and she stepped closer again, her presence almost suffocating in its intensity. “You’ve been circling Wanda like a vulture, waiting for the right moment to pounce. All that cunning, all that patience—wasted, if I sweep in and take what I need without a second thought. But if you help me...”

“What?” Agatha snapped, her frustration bubbling over. “You’ll leave me with the scraps?”

Y/N chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver through Agatha. “Oh, no,” she said, her voice a velvet caress. “I’ll make sure you get what you deserve.”

“And what do you think I deserve?” Agatha demanded, though part of her wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

Y/N leaned in, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “Everything you’ve ever wanted,” she whispered. “Power. Knowledge. Freedom from the chains you’ve worn for centuries.” Her voice dropped, her tone both teasing and commanding. “All you have to do is trust me.”

Agatha stared at her, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Trust wasn’t something she gave freely—if at all—but Y/N’s words struck at the core of her deepest desires. The Darkhold. Wanda’s magic. The chance to finally ascend beyond the limits that had bound her for so long.

“What’s the catch?” Agatha asked, her voice low.

“No catch,” Y/N replied, though her smirk betrayed her. “Just an understanding. You don’t get in my way, and I won’t destroy everything you’ve worked for.”

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line. It was a dangerous proposition, but then again, danger was her element. She tilted her chin up, meeting Y/N’s gaze with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “Fine,” she said. “But don’t think for a second that I trust you.”

Y/N’s grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Oh, Agatha,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “That’s half the fun.”

Before Agatha could respond, Y/N stepped back, her demeanor shifting effortlessly into something lighter, more playful. “Now,” she said, picking up her coffee cup again, “shall we get started? There’s so much to do, and I hate wasting time.”

The dynamic between Y/N and Agatha shifted entirely after that morning. Agatha found herself caught between two versions of Y/N: the one who revealed herself as Death, with power and purpose that eclipsed anything Agatha had ever encountered, and the timid, naive girl that still charmed the other residents of Westview.

Y/N had resumed her sweet, bashful act effortlessly. Around Wanda and the neighbors, she giggled, stammered, and fumbled her way through conversations, her green eyes wide with innocence. She still burned cookies in the oven, still blushed furiously when Wanda teased her about her “crush” on Agnes. No one suspected a thing.

But when they were alone, that mask fell away, and Agatha was left grappling with the reality of who Y/N truly was—and what she wanted.

*****************

The door to Agatha’s home slammed shut, and she leaned against it, sighing heavily. It had been exhausting day of keeping up appearances, pretending to be Wanda’s nosy neighbor while Y/N floated around like a living contradiction.

She heard humming from the kitchen and followed the sound, finding Y/N there, stirring something on the stove. She was barefoot, wearing a flowy dress that made her look every bit the innocent girl-next-door. The sight was disarming, but Agatha knew better now.

“Rough day, Mommy?” Y/N asked without turning around, her voice teasing but soft enough to sound harmless.

Agatha groaned, rubbing her temples. “I told you not to call me that.”

Y/N turned, a wooden spoon in hand, her expression mockingly contrite. “Oh, but you liked it last night,” she said, her lips curling into a wicked smile.

Before she could respond, the doorbell rang, breaking the tension.

Y/N turned back to the stove, her naive persona snapping back into place like a mask. “I’ll get it!” she chirped, practically skipping to the door.

Agatha watched, stunned, as Y/N greeted Wanda with her usual wide-eyed enthusiasm, her voice bright and bubbly as they exchanged pleasantries….

A barbecue party. The invitation had come with Wanda’s usual saccharine smile and a firm insistence that Agnes and her adorable little “crush” Y/N come as a pair.

“Oh, we’ll be there,” Y/N had chirped in her shy, bubbly voice, glancing at Agatha with a bashful smile that made Wanda practically squeal with delight.

Now, hours later, Agatha found herself reluctantly walking with Y/N toward Wanda’s backyard. The older woman’s sharp eyes swept over the scene, her instincts humming with unease despite the cheerful decorations and the smell of grilling meat.

“You look tense,” Y/N teased, her voice light and playful as she looped her arm through Agatha’s. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous about a little barbecue?”

Agatha shot her a sideways glance. “I don’t trust this whole Stepford act,” she muttered.

Y/N giggled, leaning in closer. “Relax, Mommy,” she whispered, her tone low and teasing. “I’ve got everything under control.”

The word made Agatha’s breath catch, and she turned to glare at Y/N. “I told you not to—”

“There you are!” Wanda exclaimed, her face lighting up as she spotted them. She rushed over, her enthusiasm almost suffocating. “Y/N, you look adorable! It’s so good to see you both!”

Y/N giggled softly, blushing as Wanda’s gaze lingered on her. “Thank you, Wanda,” she said, her voice as timid as a schoolgirl’s.

Agatha forced a smile, though her sharp eyes darted around the yard, cataloging every detail. She could feel Y/N’s aura humming beside her, faint but present—a reminder that this charade was only skin-deep.

As the barbecue unfolded, Y/N flitted around the party with practiced ease. She dropped plates, fumbled cups, and stammered her way through conversations, drawing fond chuckles and indulgent smiles from everyone she encountered. Wanda, in particular, seemed delighted by her presence, frequently glancing her way with a motherly sort of pride.

Agatha, meanwhile, lingered near the edges of the gathering, her mind too preoccupied to fully engage. She sipped her drink, her thoughts churning with half-formed plans and contingencies. But her composure slipped when Y/N sidled up beside her, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You’re tense,” Y/N murmured, her voice low enough that only Agatha could hear. “What’s the matter? Afraid someone will see through me?”

“Someone might see through you,” Agatha hissed, her irritation bubbling to the surface. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.”

Y/N’s smile turned wicked, and she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear. “Speaking of games,” she whispered, her voice dripping with mischief, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Agatha froze mid-sip, her body going rigid as the words sank in. She turned to glare at Y/N, her voice a sharp whisper. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” Y/N replied, her tone unbearably smug. She stepped back, her innocent mask snapping back into place as she waved to Wanda, leaving Agatha simmering in a cocktail of frustration and desire.

As the evening wound down, Agatha made an excuse to slip inside Wanda’s house, claiming she needed to “grab something she left behind.” She headed to the basement, her mind distracted as she searched for the pretense of her visit.

The door creaked shut behind her, and Agatha turned, her breath catching as she found Y/N standing there, the smug smile from earlier now fully in place.

“What are you doing here?” Agatha demanded, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

Y/N stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, her green aura faintly flickering as she closed the distance between them. “I was curious,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “You seemed so tense earlier. I thought I’d come see if I could help.”

“Y/N,” Agatha warned, her tone faltering as Y/N moved closer, her presence overwhelming in the confined space.

Before Agatha could react, Y/N pressed her back against the wall, her hands braced on either side of Agatha’s shoulders. The younger woman’s eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and hunger as she leaned in, her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear.

“You’ve been trying so hard to keep up with me,” Y/N murmured, her voice a sultry purr. “But let’s be honest, Mommy—you’re out of your depth.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, her hands curling into fists as she struggled to maintain control. “Y/N,” she said again, her voice shaking slightly.

Y/N smirked, her fingers trailing down Agatha’s arm before sliding to her waist. “Shh,” she whispered, her lips grazing the corner of Agatha’s jaw. “You’ll enjoy this. Trust me.”

Before Agatha could protest, Y/N dropped to her knees, her hands moving with practiced ease as she tugged Agatha’s slacks down just enough to expose her. The older woman gasped, her hands flying to the wall for support as Y/N’s lips pressed against her inner thigh, teasing, deliberate, and maddeningly slow.

“Y/N, what are you—”

“Shh,” Y/N murmured again, her lips curving into a smug smile as she glanced up. “Don’t fight it. You’ve wanted this as much as I have.”

Her mouth moved with precision, her tongue tracing patterns that made Agatha’s legs tremble. The sound of her own sharp breaths and quiet moans filled the room, the tension of the day melting away under Y/N’s skillful attention.

Agatha’s breath came in sharp gasps, her fingers gripping the edge of the wall behind her, her composure unraveling with every flick of Y/N’s tongue and every warm kiss placed with precision.

Agatha had faced witches, wizards, and powers that could tear the world apart, but nothing had prepared her for Y/N—her control, her deliberate mix of dominance and tenderness. It was intoxicating, and she couldn’t hold back the quiet, desperate moan that spilled from her lips as Y/N moved with purpose, guiding her toward the edge of ecstasy.

“Y/N,” Agatha managed, her voice shaking. “I—”

“Shh,” Y/N murmured, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Agatha’s thigh. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

The words sent a shiver through Agatha, and with one last, deliberate motion, Y/N tipped her over the edge. Agatha’s body tensed, her breath catching as waves of pleasure washed over her, her cries muffled by her hand flying to her mouth.

Y/N didn’t stop until Agatha’s trembling subsided, her hands gentle as they smoothed over the older woman’s thighs, grounding her. She stood slowly, her hands reaching to help Agatha adjust her slacks, buttoning them with a playful smirk. “There,” she said softly, her tone teasing but oddly tender. “All put back together.”

Agatha was still catching her breath, leaning heavily against the wall as she watched Y/N with a mix of awe and frustration. But before she could say anything, Y/N took her wrist, guiding her hand to the hem of her dress.

“What are you—” Agatha began, but Y/N cut her off with a wicked grin.

“You’ve been so focused on me,” Y/N purred, sliding Agatha’s hand higher, beneath the fabric of her dress, until her fingers brushed against the slick heat. “You didn’t even notice how much I enjoyed myself.”

Agatha’s eyes widened, her fingers instinctively pressing against the wetness between Y/N’s thighs. “Gods,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear as she whispered, “See what you do to me?”

Agatha’s breath hitched, and she opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of the door creaking open made them both freeze.

“Agnes?” came Wanda’s voice, bright and curious. “Are you down here?”

Agatha yanked her hand back, her face a mixture of guilt and panic as she straightened her clothes. Y/N, however, remained utterly calm, her smirk never faltering as she stepped away from Agatha, her hands smoothing her dress.

“Coming!” Y/N called out cheerfully, her voice sweet and innocent as if nothing had happened. She shot Agatha a playful wink before heading toward the door, leaving the older woman to scramble for composure.

As Wanda appeared at the top of the stairs, Y/N met her with an easy smile, her eyes bright and carefree. “Sorry, Wanda! I dragged Agnes down here to help me find something, but I think I just got her distracted.”

idk if your requests are open but i really like your writing and i thought just asking couldn’t hurt 🙈

you can ignore if you dont want to hehe

but i was wondering if you could maybe write smut with sub!reader and mommy!agatha? like maybe they work together or something but mainly smut please 😇. can reader be a little bratty too perhaps 👀 ?? but like mommy agatha knows how to put her in her place 🙈🫠 hehe

thank you very much!

It's written a bit choppily, but I hope you like it)

Miss Carter

You're filming a new movie with Agatha and you've already gotten on her nerves with your behavior.

Warnings: Smut, Power dynamics, Mommy kink,

Later that evening, you found yourself in the dim glow of a bar near the set, nursing a cocktail and replaying the day’s events. You hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, but there she was—walking in like she owned the place, still dressed in her Miss Carter costume, though her blouse was now unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the barest hint of collarbone.

She spotted you instantly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she approached.

“No entourage tonight?” she asked, sliding onto the stool next to you.

“Didn’t think I’d need one,” you replied, your smirk returning. “What brings you here, Miss Carter?”

Her lips quirked at the name, but there was no humor in her gaze. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?”

“That thing you do,” she said, leaning closer. “Where you push and push until someone snaps.”

“And what if I want you to snap?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them, but you didn’t regret them. Not when you saw the way her pupils darkened, the way her chest rose and fell just a little faster.

Agatha didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. Instead, she reached out, her hand tangling in the front of your blouse. She pulled you close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, “Do you always get what you want?”

You turned your head, your lips brushing the corner of hers. “If I work for it.”

Her kiss was sudden, ferocious. It wasn’t playful or teasing—it was possessive, her lips crashing into yours with enough force to make you gasp. Her hand tightened in your blouse, pulling you closer as her teeth nipped at your bottom lip.

When she pulled back, her breathing was ragged, her eyes blazing. “Come with me,” she ordered, her voice low and commanding.

*********

The hotel room was a blur of tangled limbs and frantic hands. Agatha pushed you against the wall, her body pressing against yours as her lips found your neck. Her teeth scraped your skin, just enough to make you shiver, and her hands slid under your blouse, her fingers grazing bare skin.

“You’ve been driving me fucking insane,” she growled against your ear. “You and that mouth.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but her fingers slid between your lips, silencing you. “Suck,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed, your tongue swirling around her fingers, your eyes locked on hers. The intensity of her gaze made your knees weak, and when she finally pulled her fingers free, her lips crashed into yours again, swallowing your moan.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice dripping with approval. “Now let’s see how well you follow the rest of my instructions.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears as her lips claimed yours, rough and demanding, her teeth catching your bottom lip before her tongue swept in. The kiss was a battle, a clash of wills, and when she finally pulled back, you were gasping for air, your lips swollen and slick.

"Take it off," she commanded, tugging at your blouse impatiently. Her voice left no room for argument, and your hands moved automatically, unbuttoning the garment with trembling fingers. Her eyes never left yours, even as the fabric slipped from your shoulders and fell to the floor.

She let out a soft, almost predatory hum as she drank you in, her gaze trailing over the lacy bra barely covering your chest and the curve of your waist. “You’re going to call me mommy tonight,” she said, her tone cool, authoritative. “Understood?”

“Yes, mommy,” you whispered, the words sending a jolt of heat straight through you. Her lips curled into a pleased smirk, and before you could catch your breath, she pressed you harder against the wall, her thigh slipping between yours.

Agatha’s hands were everywhere—rough, possessive. One slid up your stomach, cupping your breast through the lace, her thumb circling your nipple until it hardened beneath her touch. The other traced the line of your hip before moving to your thigh, gripping it firmly as she pressed her leg against your core. The friction made you whimper, your hips moving instinctively to grind against her.

"Pathetic," she teased, her voice dripping with mockery as she pinched your nipple sharply, making you gasp. "I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already so desperate. Do you want me to make you beg, or are you going to behave?"

“I’ll behave,” you managed, your voice shaky, though the fire in your eyes challenged her. You saw her grin, wicked and knowing, before she stepped back, leaving you cold and aching in her absence.

"On the bed," she ordered, her voice sharp. You scrambled to obey, the sheets cool against your heated skin as you lay back, your legs slightly parted in silent invitation. Agatha watched you for a moment, her expression unreadable, before crawling onto the bed like a predator closing in on its prey.

Her hands slid up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher until it bunched around your hips. She let out a low, approving hum at the sight of your damp panties, her fingers hooking into the waistband and pulling them down slowly, deliberately, leaving you bare and exposed.

"Look at you," she murmured, her tone laced with condescension as her fingers trailed along your inner thigh. "So eager, so wet. Is this all for me?"

“Yes, mommy,” you breathed, your hips lifting slightly, silently begging for her touch.

Her fingers brushed against your slick folds, featherlight, teasing. "Good girl," she said softly, her tone a stark contrast to the sharp edge of her next move—two fingers sliding into you without warning. Your back arched off the bed, a cry escaping your lips as she set a slow, deliberate pace, her fingers curling to hit that perfect spot inside you.

"Shh," she cooed, her free hand moving to your mouth, her fingers pressing against your lips. "Suck."

You obeyed instantly, your tongue swirling around her fingers as she thrust into you, the wet sounds of your body mixing with your muffled moans. Her eyes never left yours, her gaze dark and possessive, and when she finally pulled her fingers from your mouth, they trailed down your chin, leaving a glistening trail.

“Bet you taste so sweet,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss you, her tongue sweeping into your mouth. When her kisses moved lower—down your neck, across your collarbone, and over the swell of your breasts—you were trembling beneath her.

Her mouth closed around your nipple, her tongue flicking against the sensitive peak as her teeth grazed it lightly. One hand continued to work between your legs, her fingers pumping in and out of you with devastating precision, while the other gripped your hip, holding you in place as you writhed beneath her.

"Stay still," she ordered, her voice firm. "You don’t move unless I tell you to. Understand?"

“Yes, mommy,” you gasped, biting your lip to stifle a moan as her fingers pressed harder, faster, the heel of her hand grinding against your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming, building like a storm inside you, and when she suddenly pulled her hand away, you nearly sobbed at the loss.

"Not yet," she said, her smirk returning as she kissed her way down your stomach, her hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wide. "You don’t come until I say so."

Her breath was hot against your core, and when her tongue finally made contact, you cried out, your hands fisting the sheets. She was relentless, her mouth devouring you like she was starving. Her tongue flicked and circled your clit, alternating with long, slow strokes that left you shaking.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hips bucking despite her earlier command. “Please, mommy—”

Her nails dug into your thighs, holding you still as she pulled back just enough to speak. "What did I say about moving?"

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, your chest heaving. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

"See that you are," she said, her tone sharp as her mouth returned to you. This time, her fingers joined her tongue, sliding back inside you and curling just right. The combined sensation was too much, and you teetered on the edge of release, your body tense, trembling.

"Don’t you dare," she warned, her voice muffled against your skin. But you couldn’t help it—the pleasure crashed over you, white-hot and blinding, and you cried out as your body convulsed beneath her.

Agatha sat back, her lips glistening, a dangerous smile on her face. "I didn’t say you could come," she said, her tone deceptively calm.

“I—I couldn’t stop,” you stammered, your voice shaking.

Her hand shot out, gripping your chin and forcing you to look at her. "Then I suppose I’ll have to teach you some discipline," she said, her eyes gleaming with wicked intent. "Turn over. We’re not done yet."

And as you obeyed, your heart pounding with anticipation, you knew this was just the beginning.

You turned over as instructed, the cool sheets brushing against your bare chest, your body still trembling from the orgasm she hadn’t permitted. Agatha’s presence loomed behind you, her hands resting firmly on your hips, holding you in place. Her nails dug into your skin just enough to make you gasp, her touch a warning of the control she wielded.

“Did I tell you to come?” she asked, her voice low and sharp, like the edge of a knife.

“No, mommy,” you murmured, your cheek pressed against the bed, your breathing uneven.

“No,” she repeated, almost to herself, her tone dripping with mockery. Her hands moved up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before sliding back down to your ass. She gave it a sharp slap, the sound echoing in the room, the sting making you yelp.

“You need to learn some self-control,” she said, her voice firm. “And I’m going to make sure you remember this lesson.”

Her hands parted your thighs, spreading you open for her, and you shivered under her gaze, feeling completely exposed. You could feel her breath on your skin, her lips brushing over the curve of your ass, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive skin just below. She was taking her time, savoring every moment of your vulnerability.

“Such a good view,” she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. Her fingers slid through your folds, teasing your sensitive clit just enough to make you whimper, but not enough to push you toward release. “Do you feel how wet you are? All of this because you can’t behave.”

Her hand moved lower, her fingers slipping into you once more, slow and deliberate this time. You moaned, your hips jerking involuntarily, but her other hand pressed down firmly on your lower back, pinning you in place.

"Still," she barked, her tone brooking no argument. "If you move again, I’ll stop. Do you understand?"

“Yes, mommy,” you whispered, biting your lip to hold back the noises threatening to spill from your throat.

Her fingers moved inside you with precision, her pace maddeningly slow. She alternated between thrusting and curling them, hitting that spot that made you see stars. Her thumb brushed over your clit occasionally, sending jolts of pleasure through you, but she always pulled back before you could get too close.

"You don’t come until I say you can," she said, her voice dripping with authority. "Let’s see if you can follow orders this time."

You clenched the sheets in your fists, your body taut with the effort of holding yourself back. Every nerve in your body was on fire, her touch both heaven and hell, pushing you closer and closer to the edge only to pull you back.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, she stopped, her fingers slipping out of you. You let out a frustrated whimper, your hips bucking slightly in protest, but her hand came down on your ass again, harder this time.

"Did I say you could protest?" she snapped, her nails digging into the flesh of your hip.

“No, mommy,” you whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it all.

“Good,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “You’re learning.”

You felt her shift behind you, her weight settling on the bed. Then her hands were on you again, spreading you open, and her tongue replaced her fingers. The wet heat of her mouth against you made you cry out, your body arching despite her earlier warnings. Her tongue flicked over your clit, teasing and taunting, before sliding down to taste you fully.

She devoured you like a woman starved, her hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place as her tongue worked relentlessly. The pressure built again, stronger this time, and you bit down hard on the sheets, desperate to hold back.

“Mommy, please,” you begged, your voice breaking. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” she said, her voice muffled against you. “You’ll hold it until I tell you to let go.”

Her fingers joined her tongue, sliding into you once more, her pace quickening. The dual sensations were overwhelming, and your body trembled uncontrollably beneath her. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and tears streamed down your face as you fought to obey her command.

“Now,” she said suddenly, her voice sharp and commanding. “Come for me. Now.”

The release hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with an intensity that left you sobbing into the mattress. Your body convulsed, every muscle tensing and releasing as the pleasure tore through you. Agatha didn’t stop, her tongue and fingers prolonging your orgasm until you were a shaking, incoherent mess.

When she finally pulled away, you collapsed onto the bed, utterly spent. She sat back, her hands running over your trembling thighs, soothing you as you tried to catch your breath.

“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice soft now, full of pride. “You took your punishment well.”

You slowly rolled over onto your back. Even as the aftershocks of your orgasm left your limbs trembling, a fresh pulse of need stirred deep inside you. She must have felt it—the way your breath hitched, the subtle shift of your hips—because she tilted your chin up, her dark eyes locking onto yours with a smirk that promised no mercy.

“You’re insatiable,” she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead. Her voice was soft, almost amused, but her fingers tightened their hold on your chin, her control as absolute as ever. “It’s adorable.”

“I just want—” you started, but the words faltered under her gaze. Want? Need? Whatever it was, it burned hot and undeniable.

“You want whatever I give you,” she interrupted, her thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. “And you’ll take it, won’t you?”

“Yes, mommy,” you breathed, the words a plea and a promise all at once.

Her smile widened, wicked and knowing, as she shifted her weight to straddle your hips. Her blouse hung loose now, unbuttoned completely, and her skirt rode up high on her thighs. The sight of her above you—dominant, unyielding—was enough to make you moan softly, the sound slipping out before you could stop it.

“Such a needy little thing,” she mused, rolling her hips against yours with agonizing slowness. “I could keep you here all night, begging for it, and you wouldn’t complain, would you?”

“No, mommy,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Her hands slid down your body, dragging over every curve, every dip, until they reached your thighs. She pushed them apart with a firm insistence, her nails grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. She settled between your legs, her hands pressing your thighs wide open as she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear.

“I think I’m going to enjoy ruining you,” she whispered, her breath hot and teasing. “Piece by piece.”

Your response was swallowed by a gasp as her mouth moved to your neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin before biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. She kissed and nipped her way down your body, her hands following the path of her lips, leaving no part of you untouched.

When her mouth reached your chest, she paused, her eyes flicking up to meet yours as she hooked her fingers under the lace of your bra. “Off,” she ordered, sitting back slightly to give you room. You scrambled to obey, your hands fumbling in your haste to remove the garment.

“Good girl,” she murmured when you tossed it aside, her voice thick with approval. Her tongue flicked against you, slow and deliberate, while her fingers pinched and rolled your other nipple, the combination making you arch into her touch.

The sensations were overwhelming, but she didn’t stop. Her kisses moved lower, down your stomach, each one deliberate, leaving a burning trail in their wake. When she finally reached your core, she paused, her breath hot against your slick skin as she looked up at you with a smirk.

“Do you think you deserve this?” she asked, her voice dripping with mockery.

“Yes, mommy,” you whimpered, your hips shifting involuntarily, seeking contact.

“Hmm.” She pressed a single, maddeningly light kiss to your clit, making you gasp. “I’m not convinced.”

“Please,” you begged, your hands gripping the sheets as you fought the urge to reach for her. “Please, mommy, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” she echoed, her lips quirking in amusement. She leaned in again, her tongue flicking out to taste you, one slow, deliberate stroke that left you trembling. “Prove it.”

You didn’t have time to ask what she meant. Her tongue worked against you, relentless and precise, alternating between soft, teasing flicks and firm, demanding pressure. Her fingers joined the mix, sliding into you with practiced ease, curling just right to make you cry out.

You were a mess of moans and gasps, your body writhing beneath her as she brought you to the brink again and again, only to pull back just before you could fall. It was torture, exquisite and unbearable, and by the time she finally let you come, your scream was muffled only by your fist pressed against your mouth.

She didn’t stop. Even as your body shook with the aftershocks, she continued, her tongue and fingers driving you higher and higher until you were begging her to stop, your voice broken and pleading.

“Shh,” she cooed, finally pulling away. Her face was glistening, her lips red and swollen as she climbed back up to kiss you. The taste of yourself on her tongue was intoxicating, and you moaned into her mouth, your hands gripping her waist to pull her closer.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured against your lips, her voice soft for the first time all night. “Completely undone. Mine.”

“Yours,” you agreed breathlessly, the word carrying a weight you couldn’t quite put into words.

She smiled, her fingers brushing your cheek before she pressed another kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

Agatha pulled you upright, her strength catching you off guard as she dragged you into her lap. Her skirt had ridden up completely, revealing smooth thighs that parted slightly as she adjusted you, her hands gripping your hips with bruising force. The heat between your bodies was electric, her eyes dark and dangerous as she pulled you flush against her.

"You're going to ride me now," she growled, her voice low and commanding, her fingers biting into your flesh. “Show me how much you want it.”

You whimpered, your breath catching as you felt it—her strap, thick and unyielding, already pressed against your entrance. You hadn’t even seen her put it on, but the realization sent a thrill down your spine. She shifted beneath you, angling her hips just right, the tip of the toy teasing your slick folds.

"Look at you," she purred, her lips brushing against your ear. "Dripping down my thigh already, like the needy little slut you are."

“Mommy,” you moaned, your voice trembling as your hands gripped her shoulders for support.

“Go on,” she said, her tone a delicious mix of mockery and command. “Sink down on it. Take me like the good little whore I know you are.”

Your body obeyed instinctively, your breath hitching as you lowered yourself onto her, inch by inch. The stretch was perfect—almost too much—but the way Agatha’s hands guided you, steady and possessive, made it impossible to stop. By the time you were fully seated, your legs were trembling, your body taut with need.

“Fuck,” Agatha hissed, her eyes locked on where your body swallowed her. She rocked her hips upward, a sharp thrust that made you cry out, your nails digging into her shoulders.

“Ride me,” she demanded, her voice rough. “Show me how badly you’ve been wanting this cock.”

You moved tentatively at first, your hips rolling in a slow rhythm as you adjusted to the fullness of her. But Agatha wasn’t having it. Her hands gripped your ass, guiding you with rough, forceful movements, driving you harder onto her strap. Each thrust made your body jolt, your moans spilling freely into the air.

"That’s it," she growled, her tone dripping with approval. "Fuck yourself on me. Let me see how desperate you are."

Your pace quickened, your movements growing frantic as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Agatha’s nails raked down your back, her teeth grazing your neck before she bit down hard enough to leave a mark.

"Such a greedy little slut," she spat, her voice thick with lust. “Look at you, using my cock like you can’t get enough. You’re fucking pathetic.”

“Yes, mommy,” you gasped, the sting of her words only spurring you on. “I need it—I need you.”

"Yeah?" she taunted, her lips curling into a wicked grin. "You need me to fuck you like the worthless little whore you are?"

“Yes! Fuck—yes,” you cried, your movements growing erratic as her hands controlled your every motion, slamming you down onto her over and over. The sound of your bodies colliding was filthy, echoing in the room along with your broken moans.

Agatha shifted suddenly, her arm wrapping around your waist as she flipped you onto your back, keeping the strap buried inside you. Her hips snapped forward, pounding into you with relentless force. The new angle had you screaming, your nails clawing at her back as she fucked you mercilessly.

“Take it,” she growled, her voice rough and breathless. “Take every inch like the good little slut.”

Your legs wrapped around her waist, your heels digging into her ass as you matched her rhythm, the pleasure overwhelming. Her hand snaked between your bodies, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing it with ruthless precision.

“You’re going to come on my cock,” she hissed, her eyes blazing as she watched your face contort with ecstasy. “And when you do, you’re going to scream my name like the obedient little slut.”

“I—I can’t,” you stammered, the sensations too much, too intense.

“Yes, you can,” she snapped, her thrusts never faltering. “You don’t get to decide. I do. Now fucking come for me.”

Her words were your undoing. Your body shattered beneath her, your orgasm tearing through you like a wildfire. You screamed her name, your voice raw and desperate as your nails left marks on her skin. Agatha didn’t slow, driving you through the waves of pleasure until you were shaking, your mind blank and your body spent.

Part 1

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4000+

Warnings: Smut, Power dynamics, Mommy kink, manipulation, mild Dom/sub elements, a lot of talking. 

A/n: I couldn't forget this plot that came to me after watching AAA so, here we go. Btw English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

It started with Wanda’s persistent nudging. The woman seemed determined to weave Y/N into the very fabric of Westview, her matchmaking efforts growing more elaborate by the day. When Wanda suggested that Y/N stay with Agatha for a while to "bond" and "learn a few things about life in Westview" Y/N had blushed profusely, her eyes darting to the floor as though the very idea embarrassed her.

Agatha had played along, smiling tightly and shrugging. “Well, if you insist, Wanda,” she said, her tone light, though she was inwardly wary.

Now, as Y/N stood on her doorstep with a small bag, Agatha found herself studying the girl more closely than ever.

“You’re sure about this?” Agatha asked, one brow raised.

Y/N nodded quickly, her cheeks pink. “I don’t want to be a bother,” she said softly. “Wanda just thought…” She trailed off, wringing her hands.

“Oh, don’t worry about Wanda,” Agatha said with a wry smile. “She’s always got some scheme or another. Come on in, sweetie.”

Y/N stepped inside, her movements hesitant as she looked around the cozy living room. Agatha watched her, noting the way her fingers brushed the edge of a chair, her gaze lingering on the trinkets scattered about.

“Make yourself at home,” Agatha said, gesturing toward the couch. “I don’t bite. Usually.”

Y/N laughed softly, though her blush deepened. “Thank you,” she said, sitting on the edge of the couch and folding her hands in her lap.

Agatha leaned against the arm of a chair, crossing her arms as she studied the girl. “So, what’s Wanda got planned for us? Baking cookies? Knitting scarves? Or is this just her way of keeping us both busy?”

Y/N smiled shyly, her gaze dropping. “I think she just wants us to… get along,” she said.

Agatha chuckled. “Oh, we’ll get along just fine, sweetie. As long as you don’t burn the house down.”

The girl was irresistible in her own way—timid, bashful, eager to please. She fluttered around Agatha’s house like a nervous sparrow, her wide eyes full of gratitude and uncertainty. It was disarming, this sweetness that seemed to radiate from her with every clumsy gesture and quiet laugh.

At first, Agatha had kept her distance, watching Y/N from behind her sharp smirks and probing comments. But as the day wore on, the girl’s earnestness began to wear her down.

By evening, Agatha found herself leaning back on the couch, a glass of wine in hand as she watched Y/N kneeling on the floor in front of her, sorting through an old box of books.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” Agatha said, her tone warm with amusement.

Y/N looked up, her green eyes wide and innocent. “I don’t mind,” she said quickly, her hands pausing over a dusty tome. “I want to help. You’ve been so nice, letting me stay here and all.”

Agatha chuckled, swirling her wine. “Sweetheart, you’re practically falling over yourself to please me. You don’t need to try so hard.”

Y/N hesitated, her hands faltering as a blush crept up her cheeks. “I just… I want you to like me,” she murmured, her voice soft.

Agatha’s smirk softened, her gaze lingering on the girl. She set her wine down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Oh, honey. I already like you,” she said, her voice rich and velvety. “Maybe a little too much.”

Y/N’s blush deepened, her eyes darting away as she fidgeted with the book in her lap. “You’re teasing me again,” she mumbled.

“Of course I am,” Agatha replied with a grin. “It’s adorable how flustered you get.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh, the sound shaky but endearing. She set the book aside and shifted onto her knees, her movements hesitant. “You… you really think I’m adorable?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, sensing the shy vulnerability in the question. She leaned back, her smirk widening. “Oh, absolutely. You’re like a little kitten, all wide eyes and nervous energy. Makes me want to… pet you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hands twisting in her lap as she looked up at Agatha, her cheeks burning. “I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha leaned forward, her hands resting on her knees as she studied the girl. There was something intoxicating about Y/N’s deference, the way she seemed to hang on Agatha’s every word, every glance. It sparked a possessive warmth deep in her chest, a need to see how far she could push this timid little thing.

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetie,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and smooth. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Y/N’s cheek.

The girl’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch, her breath catching as Agatha’s thumb traced the curve of her jaw. She leaned into the caress, her lips parting slightly as if to say something, but no words came.

Agatha’s smirk softened into something more indulgent, her gaze lingering on Y/N’s flushed face. “You’re too cute for your own good,” she said, her voice a husky murmur.

Y/N opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Agatha’s with a mixture of nervousness and longing. “Agnes…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Agatha’s name on her lips sent a shiver down her spine. She leaned closer, her hand slipping behind Y/N’s neck as she drew the girl toward her. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, the warmth of Y/N’s mouth sending a surge of heat through Agatha’s veins.

Y/N gasped against her, her hands flying to Agatha’s arms as she clung to her, her body trembling. Agatha deepened the kiss, her fingers tangling in Y/N’s hair as she pulled her closer.

When they broke apart, Y/N’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven as she stared up at Agatha with wide, wondering eyes. “I… I’ve never…” she began, but the words caught in her throat.

Agatha’s lips curved into a slow smile, her eyes dark with intrigue as she leaned closer, the warmth of the moment building between them. Her voice softened, dropping to a soothing murmur. "Oh, honey. Is that what’s got you so worked up?"

Y/N nodded, her gaze flitting nervously between Agatha’s eyes and her hands. "I just… I didn’t want you to think I was stupid or… or something." Her voice wavered, tinged with both embarrassment and vulnerability.

"Stupid?" Agatha let out a low, genuine laugh, her chest warming at the sheer adorableness of the girl’s nervousness. She reached out, her fingers brushing gently against Y/N’s cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N flinched slightly at the touch, her lips parting in a soft gasp, and the vulnerability in that small reaction made Agatha’s heart skip.

"Sweetheart," she said, her voice a velvet murmur, "there’s nothing stupid about not knowing. It’s… charming, really." Her smile turned sly, a wicked gleam flickering in her eyes. "Besides," she added, her fingers tracing a slow line down Y/N’s jaw, "I happen to be an excellent teacher."

Y/N’s breath hitched, her wide eyes locking onto Agatha’s. There was a flicker of uncertainty there, but it was layered beneath something else—something that made Agatha’s pulse quicken. Y/N swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she asked, "You’d… teach me?"

Agatha’s smile deepened, satisfaction thrumming in her chest as she leaned closer, their faces mere inches apart. Her thumb brushed lightly over Y/N’s flushed cheek, the skin warm beneath her touch. "Oh, darling," she purred, her tone dripping with promise, "I’d love to teach you. But only if you want me to."

Y/N hesitated, her lips parting as though she were about to speak, but no words came. Instead, she nodded faintly, her eyes fluttering closed as her breathing grew shallow.

The moment stretched, thick with tension, until Y/N whispered, "I… I think I’d like that." Her words were so quiet that Agatha almost didn’t hear them, but the tremor in her voice sent a thrill racing through her.

"Good girl," Agatha murmured, her thumb brushing gently over Y/N’s bottom lip. Her hand tilted Y/N’s chin up, and she leaned in, her lips grazing Y/N’s in a kiss that was soft, tentative—testing the waters.

Y/N whimpered softly, the sound sending a jolt of heat through Agatha as she pressed more firmly against her. She guided Y/N’s chin with her fingers, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, and Y/N’s lips parted under the pressure, trembling but eager. Agatha slid her tongue past the girl’s lips, tasting her, savoring the soft, unsure noises that escaped her throat.

Y/N gasped into the kiss, her hands fluttering uncertainly before resting on Agatha’s shoulders. Her fingers clutched the fabric of Agatha’s cardigan, her body trembling as she leaned into the older woman’s touch.

"Relax, sweetheart," Agatha whispered against Y/N’s lips, her voice low and soothing. "Just let me take care of you."

Y/N nodded shakily, her wide eyes brimming with nervous anticipation. Agatha leaned back slightly, her gaze raking over Y/N’s flushed face, the way her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with each uneven breath.

Agatha’s hand drifted down, her fingertips tracing the curve of Y/N’s neck, the delicate line of her collarbone, before coming to rest on her trembling hands. "Give me your hand," she murmured.

Y/N obeyed immediately, her fingers light and hesitant in Agatha’s grasp. Agatha lifted the girl’s hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles before trailing her mouth down to the tips of her fingers.

"Have you ever thought about how sensitive your hands are, darling?" Agatha asked, her voice teasing.

"N-No," Y/N stammered, her gaze fixed on Agatha as the older woman took her index finger into her mouth.

Agatha sucked lightly, her tongue swirling around the digit, and Y/N shuddered, a soft gasp slipping from her lips. "You’d be surprised what a little attention here can do," Agatha murmured, releasing the finger with a soft pop and grinning at Y/N’s reaction.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her cheeks a brilliant shade of red as she stammered, "I-I didn’t know…"

Agatha chuckled, her hands slipping to Y/N’s waist as she drew her closer. "Oh, honey, there’s so much you don’t know," she said, her voice low and affectionate. "But don’t worry—I’ll teach you everything."

Her fingers slid beneath the fabric of Y/N’s sweater, palms meeting warm, smooth skin. Y/N inhaled sharply, her body tensing for a moment before melting under Agatha’s touch.

"That’s it," Agatha murmured, her hands traveling upward, exploring the gentle curve of Y/N’s waist, the swell of her ribs.

Y/N whimpered, her head falling forward to rest against Agatha’s shoulder. "It feels… different," she admitted, her voice trembling.

"Good different?" Agatha teased, her fingers brushing just beneath the hem of Y/N’s bra.

Y/N nodded, her breath warm against Agatha’s neck. "Y-Yeah. Good."

"Good girl," Agatha whispered, her hands sliding higher to cup Y/N’s breasts over her bra. The fabric was soft, yielding under her touch, and Y/N arched instinctively into her hands.

Y/N gasped, her hands clutching at Agatha’s sleeves as she trembled in her grasp. "Agnes, I… I don’t…"

"Shh," Agatha soothed, her grin widened as her hands skimmed along Y/N’s waist, her thumbs brushing slow, teasing circles over the soft fabric of her sweater. The girl trembled beneath her touch, her breath quickening, her chest rising and falling in shallow waves.

“You’re so tense,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and coaxing. “Relax for me, sweetheart.”

Y/N nodded, her lips parting slightly as Agatha’s hands slipped beneath her sweater, fingertips meeting warm, bare skin. The soft gasp that escaped Y/N sent a thrill through Agatha, her smirk deepening as she pressed her palms against Y/N’s ribs, sliding upward with deliberate slowness.

“That’s better,” Agatha whispered, her lips brushing against the curve of Y/N’s jaw. “Just let go. You’re safe with me.”

Y/N shivered, her head tilting instinctively to the side, exposing more of her neck. Agatha didn’t hesitate, her lips trailing along the delicate skin, leaving light kisses that grew firmer with every lingering touch. Her hands explored further, fingers curling under the hem of Y/N’s bra, testing the boundary before slipping beneath it.

Y/N whimpered, her body arching slightly into Agatha’s touch as her thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin. “Agnes…” she gasped, her voice catching on the name.

The girl’s breath came in shallow, trembling bursts, her hands clutching at the fabric of Agatha’s cardigan as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Agatha savored every reaction—the way Y/N’s body moved, the soft, stuttered sounds that spilled from her lips like a melody meant just for her.

“You’re so sensitive,” Agatha murmured, her lips brushing against Y/N’s temple. “So perfect. You feel how good this is, don’t you?”

Y/N could only nod, her cheeks burning as she whispered, “Y-Yes… It’s so much…”

“That’s the idea, darling,” Agatha said with a low chuckle. “It’s supposed to feel like this.”

She kissed Y/N again, deeper this time, her tongue coaxing the girl’s lips apart. Y/N moaned softly into the kiss, her body melting against Agatha’s as her hands moved to clutch at the older woman’s shoulders.

Agatha’s touch grew bolder, her hands skimming down Y/N’s sides, exploring every curve before settling on her hips. Her fingers teased at the waistband of Y/N’s skirt, brushing lightly against the bare skin just beneath it.

“Can I touch you here?” Agatha whispered against Y/N’s lips, her tone dark with intent.

Y/N hesitated, her breath catching, before nodding shyly. “Yes… Please.”

The eagerness in her voice sent a jolt of heat through Agatha, and she wasted no time, her hand slipping beneath the fabric to cup Y/N over her panties. The warmth, the slickness she felt there, made her smirk as she murmured, “Oh, darling, you’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?”

Y/N whimpered, her face burying in Agatha’s neck as her hips shifted instinctively toward her touch. “I… I don’t know what to do…” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to do anything, honey,” Agatha reassured her, her fingers stroking gently, coaxing soft moans from the girl’s lips. “Just feel. Let me guide you.”

Y/N’s breathing quickened, her body trembling as Agatha slipped her hand beneath the thin barrier of fabric, her fingers meeting slick, heated skin. The first touch drew a sharp gasp from Y/N, her hips jerking involuntarily.

“So wet for me,” Agatha murmured, her voice laced with satisfaction. “You really are my good girl, aren’t you?”

The words made Y/N whimper, her hands gripping tightly at Agatha’s arms. Her head fell back against the couch, exposing her flushed face, her parted lips, as Agatha’s fingers moved in slow, deliberate strokes.

“You’re doing so well,” Agatha crooned, her thumb finding Y/N’s clit and circling it lightly. “You’re beautiful like this, you know that? Absolutely stunning.”

Y/N moaned, her body arching as she struggled to process the overwhelming sensations. “It’s… It’s too much,” she breathed, her hands clutching at Agatha’s sleeves.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” Agatha murmured, her lips brushing against Y/N’s ear. “Just let it happen.”

Y/N’s hips bucked against her hand, the heat building between them until every movement, every sound, seemed to reverberate in Agatha’s chest. Then it happened—Y/N’s voice broke on a trembling word, soft and desperate.

“Mommy…”

The room stilled for a beat. Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as the realization of what she’d said sank in. “I—I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, her face burning with mortification.

Agatha paused, then a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. “Mommy?” she repeated, her voice dripping with amusement.

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Please, forget I said that!”

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” Agatha said, chuckling as she gently pried Y/N’s hands away. “You can’t just say something like that and expect me to let it go.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Y/N squeaked, her face crimson. “It just… slipped out!”

Agatha’s smirk softened, her hand stroking Y/N’s cheek as she murmured, “Relax, honey. I’m not mad. In fact…” Her lips brushed against Y/N’s ear, her voice a low purr. “I think I like it.”

Y/N froze, her breath catching. “You… you do?” she whispered.

“Mm-hmm,” Agatha hummed, her hand slipping back to rest on Y/N’s hip. “It suits you, darling. And me, too, don’t you think?”

Y/N hesitated, her blush deepening, before nodding shyly. “Okay… Mommy.”

Agatha’s fingers continued their slow, deliberate rhythm, tracing lazy circles over the girl’s clit. Each stroke drew a soft gasp or trembling moan from Y/N’s lips, her body arching into Agatha’s touch as if chasing more. The heat between them was electric, crackling with every shift of Y/N’s hips, every stuttered breath that escaped her throat. Agatha reveled in the power she wielded, her hand slipping lower to explore the slick, inviting folds beneath her fingertips.

Y/N’s thighs trembled as Agatha’s fingers teased her entrance, her movements unhurried but purposeful, testing her reaction with every touch. The girl’s wetness coated Agatha’s fingers, the tangible proof of her arousal sending a thrill through the older woman. With a deliberate slowness, Agatha slid a finger inside, the heat and tightness wrapping around her making her exhale sharply. Y/N tensed for a moment, a sharp intake of breath escaping her, before her body relaxed again, adjusting to the new sensation.

“That’s it,” Agatha murmured, her lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as she began to move her finger in slow, shallow strokes. Her thumb continued its lazy circles over Y/N’s clit, coaxing soft, breathless whimpers from her.

Y/N’s hands clung to Agatha’s arms, her nails pressing lightly into her skin as her body writhed beneath her touch. Her head fell back, her lips parted as quiet, desperate moans spilled freely from her.

Agatha took her time, savoring every moment, every reaction. She added a second finger, sliding them deeper, her pace measured but firm. The way Y/N’s walls clenched around her, the soft cries that escaped her lips—it was intoxicating, a symphony Agatha wanted to play forever.

The girl’s hips began to move in rhythm with Agatha’s hand, her body instinctively chasing the pleasure. Agatha leaned down, her lips finding Y/N’s neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin before soothing it with a kiss. Y/N whimpered, her hands fisting in Agatha’s cardigan as the sensations overwhelmed her. The steady, relentless motion of Agatha’s fingers against that sweet spot inside her combined with the teasing pressure on her clit to push her closer to the edge.

The tension in Y/N’s body built with every stroke, her moans growing louder, more desperate. Agatha’s grin widened as she felt the girl tremble beneath her, her thighs quaking as the pressure mounted.

“That’s it,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and soothing, though her fingers never faltered. She curled them slightly, pressing against that sensitive spot that made Y/N cry out, her back arching. Her thumb circling Y/N’s clit with just enough pressure to make her whimper. “Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

The words were all it took. Y/N’s body tensed, her thighs clamping around Agatha’s hand as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. A strangled moan tore from her lips, her hips bucking as the orgasm took hold, overwhelming her with its intensity.

Agatha didn’t stop, her fingers moving gently to guide Y/N through it, her touch steady and reassuring. She kissed Y/N’s temple, her hand cradling her head as the girl’s body shuddered in her arms, her moans softening into breathless whimpers.

When Y/N finally stilled, her body going limp against the couch, Agatha withdrew her hand carefully, her touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. She looked at Y/N, her face flushed and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, and couldn’t help the satisfied smile that tugged at her lips.

“Good girl,” Agatha murmured, her thumb brushing over Y/N’s cheek. The words were soft, almost tender, as she leaned down to press a lingering kiss to the corner of Y/N’s mouth.

Y/N barely managed a nod, her hands weakly clutching at Agatha’s cardigan as she whispered, “Thank you…”

Agatha’s hand lingered on Y/N’s cheek for a moment longer before she leaned back, brushing her hair away from her face. “Come on, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice warm but firm. “Let’s get you settled upstairs. You’ve had quite the night.”

Y/N nodded sleepily, her face still flushed, her body pliant as Agatha helped her to her feet. The younger woman swayed slightly, and Agatha steadied her with a firm grip on her arm, guiding her toward the staircase.

The walk upstairs was unhurried, the house bathed in the soft, golden glow of dimly lit sconces. Agatha’s hand remained on Y/N’s waist, steadying her, the closeness oddly comforting. The stairs creaked faintly beneath their steps, the sound blending with the faint hum of the nighttime stillness.

At the top of the stairs, Agatha turned toward her bedroom. She pushed open the door, revealing a cozy space with dark wood furnishings and a bed neatly made with a deep plum-colored quilt. The air smelled faintly of lavender and aged books, a mix uniquely hers.

“You’ll stay in here,” Agatha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She crossed to a dresser, pulling open a drawer and rummaging for something suitable. “Can’t have you sleeping in your day clothes.”

She returned with a pair of soft, well-worn pajama pants and a loose button-up shirt. Agatha handed them to Y/N with a smirk, her eyes flicking down to the girl’s legs. “These might be a little short on you, honey. You’ve got a few inches on me, but they’ll do.”

Y/N took the clothes with a shy smile, the faint pink still lingering in her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured, holding the bundle close.

“Bathroom’s through there,” Agatha said, gesturing toward a door on the side of the room. “Get changed and come back. I’ll grab some extra blankets.”

Y/N nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Agatha busied herself gathering an extra pillow and a quilt from the closet, her mind lingering on the events of the evening. The girl had melted so sweetly under her touch, her reactions raw and unfiltered. There was something deeply satisfying about coaxing such vulnerability out of her.

When Y/N returned, she was wearing the borrowed clothes, the pajama pants ending just above her ankles, the hem of the shirt brushing against her thighs. The fabric hung loosely on her frame, giving her an air of casual innocence that made Agatha’s smirk return.

“Not bad,” Agatha teased, tossing the quilt onto the bed.

Y/N ducked her head, a soft laugh escaping her. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha chuckled, patting the space beside her on the bed. “Come on, hop in.”

Y/N obeyed, slipping under the covers and settling on her side of the bed. Agatha slid in beside her, adjusting the quilt before resting her head against the pillows. The space between them felt charged, but not uncomfortably so.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Agatha murmured, her voice softened by the dark.

“Goodnight, Agnes,” Y/N replied, her voice small but content.

Agatha closed her eyes, her breathing evening out as the house settled into silence. Her body relaxed, lulled by the warmth of the girl beside her, her usual wariness dulled by the exhaustion of the day.

Y/N, however, lay awake. Her gaze flicked to Agatha, the older woman’s peaceful face illuminated faintly by the moonlight slipping through the curtains. Slowly, Y/N’s lips curved into a grin—a sharp, wicked expression that twisted her previously innocent features.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2000+

Summary:  A new mysterious girl appears in the Westview, capturing Agatha's attention.

A/n: I couldn't forget this plot that came to me after watching AAA so, here we go. Btw English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Agatha Harkness leaned against her kitchen counter, nursing a cup of coffee as the morning sun painted the room in soft, golden hues. The house was quiet, save for the faint buzz of magic beneath her skin. It was always there now, a faint hum that had taken root since Wanda’s Hex wrapped itself around the town of Westview.

Agatha didn’t mind the quiet—she thrived in it. It gave her time to think, to observe, and, most importantly, to plan. The game Wanda was playing fascinated her, the raw chaos magic that maintained this picture-perfect suburban paradise a symphony only she seemed to hear. But Agatha wasn’t content to be a spectator.

Her musings were interrupted by a knock at the door, sharp and deliberate. Agatha frowned, setting down her mug. Few people in Westview came calling without reason. The nosy neighbors usually knocked too loudly, their voices pitched with exaggerated cheer. This knock was… tentative.

Agatha adjusted her cardigan and opened the door, her curiosity immediately piqued by the girl standing on her porch.

She was young, with an almost ethereal quality to her—a soft, doll-like beauty wrapped in a modest sundress and wide-brimmed hat. Her hands were clasped in front of her, clutching a basket of baked goods, and she looked up at Agatha with a shy, hesitant smile.

“Hi,” the girl said, her voice light and airy. “I’m Y/N. Wanda mentioned I should… introduce myself?”

Wanda. Of course.

Agatha smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, aren’t you the polite one?” she said, stepping aside to let the girl in. “Come on in, sweetie. Don’t just stand there looking like a lost kitten.”

Y/N giggled softly, the sound almost musical, and stepped inside. She looked around the living room with wide eyes, as though taking in every detail with nervous curiosity. Agatha followed her gaze, watching the way her fingers brushed the edge of a throw pillow, the faint catch in her breath as she noticed the clutter of books and trinkets on the coffee table.

“You’re new in town?” Agatha asked, her voice casual as she gestured for Y/N to sit.

Y/N perched on the edge of the couch, smoothing her dress over her knees. “Oh, yes,” she said quickly. “Very new. Wanda’s been so kind—helping me settle in, introducing me to everyone…”

Her voice trailed off, and she ducked her head, as if embarrassed by her own rambling. Agatha studied her, intrigued by the girl’s bashful demeanor. Wanda had mentioned her in passing—a "sweet little thing who could use a friend." But there was something about Y/N that didn’t quite fit the mold of Wanda’s usual creations.

“Wanda’s good at that,” Agatha said, her tone light. “She loves playing the perfect hostess. But don’t let her fool you—she’s got a bit of a wild side, that one.”

Y/N giggled again, her cheeks turning pink. “I don’t think I’ve seen that side of her yet.”

“Oh, stick around, honey. You will.”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she observed the girl with casual interest. There was something almost too perfect about Y/N—the way her smile wavered just enough to seem genuine, the slight tremor in her hands as she picked up the cup of tea Agatha had poured.

“So, what brings you to Westview?” Agatha asked, keeping her tone light.

Y/N hesitated, her gaze dropping to the cup in her hands. “I guess… I wanted a fresh start,” she said softly. “Somewhere quiet, where I could figure things out.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “And you picked Westview? Not exactly the first place people think of when they’re looking for a fresh start.”

Y/N’s lips quirked into a shy smile. “Wanda said it was… special. And it is. It feels… safe here.”

Safe. Agatha’s smirk widened, though she quickly hid it behind her cup. If only the girl knew the half of it.

“Well, you’re certainly in good hands with Wanda,” Agatha said, her voice warm and reassuring. “And the neighbors will eat you up. They love a sweet, innocent new face.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced up, her eyes meeting Agatha’s for the briefest moment before darting away again.

The girl’s shyness was endearing, almost painfully so. But Agatha had spent centuries honing her instincts, and something about Y/N didn’t quite add up. She didn’t press, though. Not yet.

Instead, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she gave Y/N a conspiratorial smile. “Wanda matchmaking again, huh?”

Y/N’s blush deepened, and she shook her head quickly. “Oh, no! It’s not like that. She just thought I could… learn a thing or two from you.”

Agatha chuckled, her sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. “Is that so? Well, I suppose I can be quite the teacher when I want to be.”

Y/N’s laugh was soft, nervous, and she ducked her head again, hiding her face behind the rim of her teacup. Agatha watched her for a moment longer, the faintest prickle of curiosity tugging at her thoughts.

Whatever Y/N’s story was, it wasn’t as simple as she made it seem. But Agatha could wait.

“Welcome to Westview, sweetheart,” she said finally, her tone warm but laced with subtle intent. “Something tells me you’re going to fit in just fine.”

Y/N smiled, her eyes glinting with a fleeting emotion Agatha couldn’t quite place. For now, the girl was an enigma—a puzzle wrapped in sweetness and blushes. But Agatha would figure her out.

Agatha Harkness prided herself on reading people like open books, but Y/N was proving to be an unexpectedly complex chapter. The girl had a way of weaving herself seamlessly into Wanda’s narrative, her every action a perfect blend of naivety and charm. The neighbors adored her, each interaction reinforcing her role as the sweet newcomer.

Agatha wasn’t fooled, not entirely. There was something there, lurking beneath Y/N’s soft demeanor. Something that kept her watching.

The afternoon sun bathed Wanda’s backyard in golden light as she bustled about, her hands full of gardening tools. The scent of freshly clipped grass mingled with the sweet aroma of cookies baking in the oven. Agatha leaned against the fence, watching as Y/N knelt beside Wanda, carefully arranging a row of daisies in the freshly turned soil.

"You’re a natural at this!" Wanda exclaimed, her bright smile aimed at Y/N.

Y/N laughed softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Oh, I don’t know about that," she said, her cheeks tinged with pink. "I’m just following your lead."

Agatha arched an eyebrow, sipping from the thermos of tea she’d brought over. The girl’s humility was textbook charming, her every move designed to blend in perfectly with Wanda’s carefully constructed suburban dream.

But there was more to it. Agatha could feel the faintest ripple in the Hex whenever Y/N was near. It wasn’t enough to break Wanda’s illusion, but it was there—a subtle distortion, like a melody slightly out of tune.

"Don’t sell yourself short, Y/N," Agatha called, her voice light and teasing. "You’ve got a knack for fitting right in, don’t you?"

Y/N looked up, her smile shy as she wiped her hands on her apron. "I just want to do my part," she said.

Wanda beamed at her, clearly pleased. "You’re more than doing your part," she said, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. "You’re already a part of this little family."

Agatha’s smirk softened, though her thoughts remained sharp. Wanda’s maternal instincts were in full swing, and Y/N seemed to thrive under her attention. But was it genuine, or was the girl playing her own game?

Later that evening, Agatha found herself on her front porch, nursing a glass of wine as the stars blinked into view. The hum of the Hex was quieter here, its magic settling into a steady rhythm as the town went to sleep.

She was about to head inside when she heard the soft shuffle of footsteps. Y/N emerged from the shadows, her arms wrapped around herself as if warding off the chill.

"Agnes?" she called softly, her voice tinged with hesitation.

Agatha straightened, her brows lifting in surprise. "Y/N? What are you doing out here so late?"

Y/N hesitated at the foot of the porch steps, her green eyes wide and uncertain. "I… I didn’t want to bother Wanda," she said. "I just… I couldn’t sleep."

Agatha gestured for her to come closer, her curiosity piqued. "Well, come on up, then. No sense standing out there in the cold."

Y/N climbed the steps, her movements careful and deliberate. She perched on the edge of the porch swing, her fingers twisting in her lap.

"Trouble on your mind, sweetie?" Agatha asked, her tone casual as she leaned back in her chair.

Y/N shrugged, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I don’t know. I guess… it’s just a lot, you know? Starting over, trying to fit in…"

Her voice was soft, almost fragile, and Agatha felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite name. She studied the girl in the dim light, the faint shadows under her eyes, the tension in her shoulders.

"Fitting in isn’t all it’s cracked up to be," Agatha said finally, her voice tinged with dry humor. "Trust me, I’ve been trying for centuries."

Y/N looked up at her, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You make it look easy."

Agatha chuckled, swirling her wine. "Oh, honey, if only you knew."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the quiet night wrapping around them like a blanket. Agatha found herself relaxing, the usual edge of her thoughts softening as she watched Y/N.

The girl was good—she had to admit that. Whatever she was hiding, she played the innocent act perfectly. But Agatha wasn’t about to let her guard down. Not yet.

"So," Agatha said, breaking the silence. "What are you really running from, Y/N?"

Y/N blinked, her expression startled. "What do you mean?"

Agatha smirked, leaning forward slightly. "Oh, come on, sweetie. Nobody ends up in a place like Westview without a reason. Fresh start, sure, but fresh starts usually mean there’s something you’re leaving behind."

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening in her lap. For a moment, Agatha thought she might deflect, but then the girl sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"I guess… I’ve always been looking for somewhere I belong," she said quietly. "Somewhere I can just… be."

Her voice was so earnest, so raw, that for a moment, Agatha believed her. But there was a flicker of something in Y/N’s eyes—a shadow, fleeting and elusive—that reminded Agatha to stay sharp.

"Well," Agatha said finally, her tone softening. "You’ve got a knack for making people like you. That’s half the battle right there."

Y/N smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha watched her for a moment longer, her thoughts swirling. The girl was a mystery, no doubt about it. But if there was one thing Agatha loved, it was solving puzzles.

"Goodnight, Y/N," she said, standing and draining the last of her wine.

"Goodnight, Agnes," Y/N replied, her smile shy as she rose to leave.

Pairings: Wednesday x F!Reader

Summary: When Wednesday needs help retrieving a forbidden book from the library's restricted section, she enlists Y/n for a midnight mission. Things take an unexpected turn.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes:/

The night was quiet, save for the rustling leaves and the faint chirp of crickets outside Nevermore’s tall, gothic windows. Y/n lounged in the common room, her gaze focused on the faint shadows that danced on the ceiling, when Wednesday’s familiar, quiet footsteps echoed from the hall.

“There you are,” Wednesday said, her voice as steady as ever, but her eyes held a glint of urgency. “I need you for something.”

Y/n’s lips curled into a grin. “You sure you don’t just want me for something?” she teased, standing up and brushing the dust from her jacket. She let her gaze linger on Wednesday a little longer than necessary, just to enjoy the way Wednesday’s expression barely shifted.

“Hardly,” Wednesday replied, unfazed. “I need a book from the restricted section of the library. It contains records on past incidents at Nevermore that could prove useful to my current investigation. You’ll help me retrieve it.”

“Wow, how romantic.” Y/n smirked, leaning closer to her. “Most people would settle for dinner before dragging me into a dark library at night, but I guess this works too.”

Wednesday gave her a sidelong look. “If you’re quite finished with your verbal theatrics…”

Y/n chuckled and threw up her hands. “Alright, alright, lead the way. You know I love a good thrill.” She winked and followed Wednesday out into the corridor.

They moved quietly through the shadowed halls, Wednesday’s gaze sharp and alert, Y/n walking beside her with an easy confidence. She kept glancing at Wednesday, amused by her serious focus.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re looking for an excuse to spend time with me,” Y/n whispered, grinning.

Wednesday shot her a glare. “If I were, you’d be the last to know.”

“Ouch.” Y/n held a hand to her chest, feigning injury. “You wound me, Addams. But hey, if it gets me a midnight adventure with you, I’ll take it.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, but a tiny smirk slipped through. She paused at the corner leading to the library doors, turning to Y/n. “You’ll need to keep quiet once we’re inside,” she instructed, her voice a low whisper. “The restricted section is guarded by a sensor. The last thing we need is for someone to come investigating.”

Y/n’s grin widened. “Don’t worry, I’ll be as quiet as a grave.” She tilted her head, watching Wednesday with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Although if we do get caught, I’d be more than happy to take the fall for you. I’ll tell them I couldn’t resist the thrill of sneaking into a dark library with Nevermore’s finest.”

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. “You’re insufferable.”

“Admit it, you love it.” Y/n winked and gestured for her to lead the way.

Wednesday pushed the heavy door open just enough for them to slip inside. The library was vast and dimly lit, rows of ancient bookshelves stretching up into shadows. The restricted section was tucked away at the back, behind a wrought-iron gate marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” Wednesday stepped confidently through the aisles, with Y/n right beside her, her eyes darting around as if savoring the thrill of breaking the rules.

“Tell me, Wednesday,” Y/n murmured, her voice soft yet playful in the quiet. “Why risk getting caught? What’s so special about this book?”

“It contains details of past incidents that were erased from the school records,” Wednesday replied, her tone as steady as ever. “Disturbances that the administration deemed too dangerous for the general student body to know about.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, leaning in. “Dangerous, huh? You know how to pick a page-turner. I’m intrigued.”

“Good,” Wednesday replied without a hint of a smile, moving ahead and scanning the shelves with a precise gaze. She motioned to a shelf near the top, where a dusty, ancient-looking book was wedged between two thick tomes. “That’s the one.”

Y/n gave a mock sigh, looking up at the book. “Conveniently placed just out of reach. I don’t suppose you’d let me lift you up there, would you?”

Wednesday’s lips pressed together, giving Y/n a deadpan look. “I’ll pass. I trust you’re capable of retrieving it yourself.”

With a grin, Y/n reached up, stretching to grasp the spine of the book, which was heavier than it looked. She handed it down to Wednesday, who began inspecting the cover with fascination.

“Can’t wait to see what secrets you find in there,” Y/n whispered, leaning close enough for her shoulder to brush against Wednesday’s.

Wednesday glanced sideways at her. “Stay focused. We’re not out of here yet.”

But as if on cue, the sound of footsteps approached. A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, and the library door creaked open. Wednesday’s eyes widened slightly, recognizing the telltale click of Thornhill’s heels echoing through the library.

“Perfect timing,” Y/n muttered, her voice tense but tinged with amusement. “I guess we didn’t make it out in time.”

Wednesday looked around quickly, her gaze steely. “We can’t let her see us with this book. Hide it, quickly.”

Y/n’s mind raced, and then, in a flash of reckless inspiration, she slid the book beneath her jacket and turned to Wednesday with a glint in her eye.

“Trust me,” she whispered. And before Wednesday could protest, Y/n stepped in close, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.

For a second, Wednesday went completely still, her dark eyes wide in shock. But then, against all reason, she let herself fall into it, her lips pressing back with an intensity that surprised them both. Y/n’s fingers traced along Wednesday’s jaw, tilting her head gently as they moved even closer. It was magnetic, a stolen moment hidden in the shadows—and as the flashlight swept over them, Thornhill stopped, her silhouette freezing in the doorway.

The teacher cleared her throat, and Y/n reluctantly broke the kiss, glancing over with a look of feigned guilt. “Oh, Miss Thornhill,” she said, trying not to laugh. “I—I didn’t think anyone would be here at this hour…”

Thornhill sighed, her face unreadable in the dim light. “The library is closed. You know the rules. Both of you, out. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/n said, reaching for Wednesday’s hand and pulling her quickly toward the door. As soon as they were out of Thornhill’s sight, she burst into quiet laughter, the thrill of the moment still making her pulse race.

“Well, that was one way to keep us from getting caught,” Wednesday muttered, eyeing her with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

Y/n smirked, her voice low and teasing. “Admit it, you didn’t hate it.”

Y/n still had that mischievous glint in her eye as they hurried down the hall, her fingers entwined with Wednesday’s for a moment longer than necessary before she let go. The book was still safely tucked under her jacket, but all she could think about was the kiss. She couldn’t help but glance over at Wednesday, her smirk deepening when she noticed a slight flush on Wednesday’s usually unflappable face.

“Looks like I’ve found a new way to keep you quiet,” Y/n murmured, teasing.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “Enjoy your moment of amusement while it lasts. Next time, there are far less…invasive ways to avoid getting caught.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Y/n whispered, her voice soft and dangerous. But before Wednesday could respond, they turned the corner into the common room, where Enid and Yoko sat on the couch, deep in conversation. Both girls looked up as they entered, their expressions quickly turning to curiosity as they took in Y/n’s and Wednesday’s flushed faces.

“Um…what exactly were you two doing?” Enid asked, eyebrows raised as she took in the sight of the two slightly disheveled girls.

Yoko smirked, her red-tinted glasses slipping down her nose as she eyed them. “Yeah, you two look…intense.”

Y/n, still slightly out of breath, let out a laugh, shrugging her jacket to adjust the hidden book and stretching her arms over her head with an easy, casual confidence. “Oh, you know, just breaking into the library, dodging Thornhill, making out in the shadows…” She shot Wednesday a teasing glance, savoring the way Wednesday’s expression stayed carefully neutral.

Enid’s jaw dropped, her eyes going wide as she looked between the two of them. “Wait—what? You’re kidding, right? Y/n, please tell me you’re joking.”

Yoko chuckled, clearly amused. “Oh, I’d believe it. They’ve got that ‘just made out and got away with it’ look.”

Wednesday, finally breaking her silence, fixed them both with her signature deadpan stare. “Believe what you want. Y/n has a…vivid imagination.”

“Oh, come on, Wednesday, don’t be modest,” Y/n interrupted, grinning. She leaned casually against the wall, looking perfectly unbothered by their friends’ disbelief. “I think Enid just doesn’t want to believe her best friend is such a good kisser.”

Enid blushed, clearly flustered, and Yoko snickered. “I’m calling it—Y/n’s telling the truth.”

Part 1

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader

Summary: The Fem!reader, vampire with a penchant for dark humor and psychopathic tendencies, is sent to Nevermore Academy by her parents following an unpleasant incident involving the murder of a couple of triple students in her previous school. Despite their contrasting personalities, the reader and Wednesday form a complex bond, navigating their differences while facing challenges that threaten to keep them apart.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes

Warnings: None

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Y/n POV

My boots clicked against the cobbled pathways as I trailed slightly behind Enid and Wednesday. The cold seeped into my skin, but it was a welcome chill—reminding me that I was awake, alive, and in the midst of something new and dangerous. 

Enid chattered on about classes, the cafeteria’s dubious offerings, and the school’s annual Poe Cup race. She walked between me and Wednesday, trying desperately to bridge the chasm of our conflicting energies. Her voice, warm and bright, seemed to wrap itself around us, a shield against the gloom. I tried to listen, but my senses were sharper than usual, picking up every rustle of the wind, every whisper of movement around the stone parapets.

And then I felt it—a shift in the air, like static before a storm. My eyes flicked upward, catching sight of a massive stone gargoyle teetering precariously on the edge of the nearest building. Time slowed. In that instant, I saw it lean, its shadow stretching long and ominous across the courtyard.

“Wednesday!” I shouted, already moving.

I didn’t think. My body reacted, faster than I’d ever needed to move before. In a blur, I lunged, tackling her to the ground. We hit the cold stone hard; I cushioned her fall, but it was far from graceful. The gargoyle crashed to the spot she’d been standing, splintering into jagged shards. Dust filled the air, mingling with the scent of crushed stone.

I was on my feet in an instant, senses searching for the threat. My eyes, now blazing, scanned for movement in the shadows above. Whoever had done this was either very bold or very stupid. When I felt no immediate danger, I turned my attention back to Wednesday, still on the ground.

Her dark eyes were locked on me, a mix of shock, rage, and—dare I say it—a hint of something else. She quickly masked it, but I’d seen it. Vulnerability. And it struck me more deeply than I cared to admit.

“Get off me,” she said coldly, her voice as sharp as the shards scattered around us. She pushed herself upright, brushing dirt from her clothing. I expected her to be grateful—or at the very least acknowledge what had just happened. But this was Wednesday.

“Not even a ‘thank you’?” I asked, my voice low but laced with something raw, something I couldn’t quite suppress. I’d just saved her life.

Her eyes met mine, unblinking. “I didn’t ask to be saved.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, stepping closer, my voice losing its playful edge. “Even if you’d prefer to be flattened by a gargoyle.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. But her breathing was slightly faster, her gaze searching mine. For what, I couldn’t tell. “If you think that earns you any kind of favor, you’re mistaken.”

I exhaled, a humorless laugh escaping me. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Her expression didn’t change. But there was a spark in her eyes—an acknowledgment that, despite her words, she’d felt something. She stepped past me, brushing my shoulder. “Don’t expect gratitude from me, Y/n. Your heroics are… unnecessary.”

I watched her walk away, every fiber of my being alive with tension. I had never wanted to both throttle and kiss someone more in my life.

Wednesday POV

Wednesday strode quickly, the sound of gravel crunching under her shoes grounding her. Her heart was pounding, and she cursed herself for the betrayal of her own physiology. Why did this girl, this aggravating, cocky newcomer, make her feel so… off balance?

In the distance, she heard Enid’s voice, calling after her with frantic worry. She forced herself to slow, to breathe, to appear unfazed. She needed control. Always.

“Wednesday! Are you okay?” Enid’s voice was frantic, and she gripped Wednesday’s arm with surprising strength.

“I’m fine.” The words were curt, but Enid’s grip tightened. Wednesday’s eyes met hers, softened slightly by the uncharacteristic display of worry. “Truly, Enid. It was a coward’s attempt.”

“Still, it could’ve—” Enid’s gaze flicked to Y/n, who stood a few paces back, watchful, tension evident in the set of her jaw.

Wednesday turned away, focusing on her breathing, on the anger simmering beneath her skin. She hated needing help. But she’d been seconds from a painful, possibly fatal end. And she couldn’t quite shake the way Y/n’s voice had cracked when she’d shouted her name.

“I’ll find who did this,” Y/n said, voice low and dangerous. It wasn’t a question. It was a vow.

“Do whatever you like,” Wednesday replied, refusing to meet her gaze again. “But don’t expect me to owe you anything.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “I never do.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Wednesday with the realization that for all her careful plans, all her walls—there was a crack. A very, very dangerous crack.

******

The crowd had started to thin, curiosity satisfied for now. Some students whispered as they walked by, eyes darting to Y/n and then quickly away. The sound of crunching stone underfoot punctuated the silence, and as the commotion faded, Y/n found herself standing alone for a moment, watching Wednesday's retreating back.

She clenched her jaw, feeling an unexpected weight in her chest. Annoyance, mixed with something far more complicated. She’d acted on pure instinct. She wasn’t sure what she had expected in return—gratitude, certainly not—but Wednesday’s cold dismissal struck deeper than it should have. She turned sharply on her heel, shaking her head, and made her way toward the forest edge. She needed air, space to think, and to cool the simmering heat of anger, frustration, and a hint of fear she still couldn’t shake.

The woods were thick with life, the scents and sounds amplified by my heightened senses. Birds rustled above, and small animals scurried through the underbrush. I took deep, steadying breaths, but my mind was restless, racing with everything that had just happened. That gargoyle wasn’t some random accident—it was deliberate. Someone had aimed for Wednesday, and that meant the stakes were higher than I’d thought.

But even as I replayed the scene, the sound of her heartbeat against my chest lingered. Her scent—a mix of pine, ink, and something uniquely her—clung to me. I cursed myself for noticing, for caring, when I’d promised myself I wouldn’t.

“You’re getting sloppy,” I muttered aloud. “Dangerously sloppy.”

The snap of a twig pulled me from my thoughts. I spun around, fangs bared. But it wasn’t a threat. It was Yoko, her dark eyes gleaming as she leaned casually against a tree trunk, arms folded across her chest.

“Rough day?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

I relaxed slightly, though I didn’t let my guard down. “You could say that.”

She stepped closer, her gaze flicking over me with a curiosity that was anything but casual. “Word spreads fast here. You saved Wednesday Addams. Bold move.”

“I wasn’t trying to be bold,” I said, meeting her eyes. “Just doing what needed to be done.”

Yoko tilted her head, her smile a touch too knowing. “Still. Not everyone would’ve jumped in like that.”

Her words, though seemingly harmless, carried an edge of challenge. I chose not to rise to it. “What do you want, Yoko?”

She moved closer, and I noticed the faint glint of crimson at her throat—likely some concealed charm or ward. Smart, considering what she was. “Maybe I just want to see if you’re as interesting as everyone says.”

“And?” I crossed my arms, forcing my body to relax. It was a game, and she was playing it well.

Her smile widened, showing the barest hint of fangs. “Still deciding.”

She turned and started to walk away, pausing just long enough to throw a parting glance over her shoulder. “If you’re looking for allies, or just a way to blow off steam… I’m not hard to find.”

As she disappeared into the shadows, I felt a flicker of something resembling intrigue. But there was no time to dwell on it. I needed answers. Whoever was targeting Wednesday had just made this personal.

*timeskip*

The sun dipped low, casting the dormitory hallway in warm hues of amber and crimson. I walked beside Enid, her endless chatter filling the otherwise quiet space. She spoke of the upcoming carnival with childlike enthusiasm, her bright energy a welcome contrast to Nevermore's dark corners. It was amusing, watching her bounce from one topic to another like a hyperactive puppy, but my attention was elsewhere. Specifically, I could feel a pair of eyes boring into me.

Wednesday Addams walked just a pace behind us, her stare unwavering, analytical. The air between us was always charged, a pull of magnetic forces she’d never admit to feeling. I caught sight of my reflection in a cracked windowpane and couldn’t help but note the difference between us. Enid’s optimism radiated like a halo, Wednesday’s presence was a storm cloud of calculated indifference, and me? I was fire—dangerous, hot, and burning too brightly in all the wrong places.

“You know,” Enid said, spinning on her heel to face me, “I bet you’d look killer in one of those leather jackets they sell at the carnival. Add some chains, maybe a dark rose, and bam!” She gestured with her hands as if sketching the outfit in the air. “You’d make half the school faint.”

I chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “You think so?”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes playfully, her gaze flitting over my figure. “I know so. Trust me. You have the look.”

She wasn’t wrong. I’d always known my body held an edge over others, though I wielded it sparingly. My movements, whether deliberate or casual, were often accompanied by lingering glances or stammered words. Wednesday might claim indifference, but I’d seen her eyes travel across my silhouette when she thought I wasn’t watching—a barely perceptible flicker of interest she’d never acknowledge. I took a moment, stretching languidly, making sure my form spoke volumes in that fleeting gesture. Behind me, there was silence. I smirked.

“So, what do you think of the carnival?” I asked, turning slightly to catch Wednesday’s reaction.

She arched a single eyebrow, her voice cool and flat. “If you’re asking whether I find frivolous celebrations amusing, the answer is no.”

Enid nudged me with her elbow, eyes sparkling with conspiratorial glee. “Don’t listen to her. Wednesday just likes to pretend she hates fun. Deep down, she’s probably planning which rides to go on first.”

Wednesday’s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering beneath her pale skin. “The last time I attended a carnival, it ended with a burning Ferris wheel and at least three casualties.”

“Spoken like a true thrill-seeker,” I teased, stepping closer. “Why am I not surprised?”

For a brief moment, her dark eyes met mine, flickering with an intensity that made the air grow thick. She took a small, deliberate step back, as if to regain some semblance of control over whatever had just passed between us. I enjoyed the challenge far too much to let it go.

“Come on,” Enid chirped, dragging us toward the room we shared. “We need to pick outfits! And yes, Wednesday, you’re coming too. I already got us matching wristbands!”

Inside the dorm, Enid’s whirlwind energy took over. She flitted around, pulling clothes from drawers, and chatting about the carnival’s attractions—the haunted house, a shooting gallery, some wild fire-breathers rumored to perform. Meanwhile, Wednesday settled into her usual corner, methodically preparing for whatever tasks her peculiar routine demanded. I moved with a certain feline grace, feeling their eyes on me. I could almost hear Enid’s excited thoughts and Wednesday’s more guarded curiosity.

“Y/n,” Enid called, tugging a black leather jacket from her side of the wardrobe and tossing it my way. “Try this. It’ll suit you.”

I caught it mid-air, feeling its weight against my hands. As I shrugged it on, the material hugged my form perfectly, accentuating curves and lending a dangerous edge. Enid clapped in approval; even Wednesday’s gaze lingered for a second longer than usual. My lips curled upward.

“How do I look?” I asked, spreading my arms slightly. The question was meant for both of them, but my eyes found Wednesday.

She tilted her head, lips parting as if she were about to offer a cutting remark. Instead, she hesitated. “Acceptable,” she said finally, her voice devoid of emotion.

Enid laughed. “Acceptable? Please. You look like you just stepped out of a gothic romance novel.”

“Perhaps a dark tragedy,” Wednesday corrected, her voice low. “A fitting choice for her, don’t you think?”

“Tragedy, romance, it’s all the same,” I replied, stepping closer to where she sat. “And you, Wednesday? Will you blend in with the crowd or haunt the carnival like one of its ghost stories?”

She stared at me, unblinking. “I don’t blend. Ever.”

“Good,” I murmured, leaning back against my bedframe. “Neither do I.”

*Later that Evening*

The grounds were transformed, strung with twinkling lights and bustling with life. Music thrummed from hidden speakers, blending with the laughter and screams of students on various rides. Enid dragged me past vendors selling everything from candied skulls to twisted metal trinkets. Her excitement was infectious. But all the while, my attention remained divided. Wednesday walked a few paces ahead, her dark aura unbroken by the revelry. I wondered what she thought of all this—a chaotic mix of joy and hidden danger.

“Y/n!” Enid’s voice cut through my thoughts. “This way! There’s a mirror maze! You’ll love it!”

I let her pull me along, glancing over my shoulder just in time to catch Wednesday watching me. I gave her a playful wink before disappearing into the maze's gleaming hall of glass.

The air within the mirror maze was different—cooler, more distant from the vibrant sounds of the carnival outside. The walls stretched around me in reflective splendor, distorting every angle of my form. My image twisted and elongated as I walked past each mirrored surface, creating endless copies of myself. A faint smirk tugged at my lips; there was something poetic about the illusion of infinite versions of me, each gaze equally challenging the world.

Enid had dashed ahead, her laughter echoing faintly through the labyrinth. I let her voice guide me for a few moments before deliberately slowing my pace, the thrill of isolation too enticing to resist. My senses sharpened, honing in on every small noise. The flicker of carnival lights outside cast shadows that danced on the glass, creating shifting patterns that felt almost alive.

I took a step forward, and there she was—Wednesday, standing perfectly still amidst the sea of reflections. Her dark hair framed her pale face like ink spilled across porcelain. For a brief moment, I thought it was another trick of the mirrors. Then she moved, her gaze cutting through the maze to find mine.

"Lost already?" I called out, my voice bouncing through the mirrored walls.

"Hardly," she replied, her tone sharp. She moved closer, her steps silent against the polished floor. Each reflection of her was as precise and menacing as the real thing.

As she neared, I leaned casually against one of the mirrored panels, my body language deliberately relaxed. "And here I thought you avoided carnival nonsense."

Wednesday stopped a mere breath away, her eyes narrowing. "I am simply observing how quickly people lose themselves in meaningless distractions."

I tilted my head, tracing her silhouette with my eyes. "Is that what you think this is? A distraction?"

She didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a measured step closer. We were surrounded by endless versions of ourselves, each silent and expectant. “You tell me, Y/n. Why are you here? Is this another stage for you to perform your games?”

Her words hung between us, a challenge I couldn't resist. I closed the distance, letting our reflections align behind us in perfect symmetry. “If it is a game,” I whispered, “then you’re playing too. Deny it all you want, Wednesday. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

For a second, her gaze softened. Something unspoken lingered there, in the depths of her stormy eyes—something raw, uncertain. But it vanished just as quickly, replaced by the iron control she wielded like a shield. She stepped back, the tension snapping like a taut string.

“You give yourself too much credit,” she said, voice cold again. “This is merely a test of your predictability.”

I chuckled softly, the sound echoing in every direction. “Predictability? Oh, Wednesday, you haven’t even begun to know me.”

She turned, a fluid movement that sent her raven hair cascading down her back. “Then stop wasting my time.” Her footsteps were precise, deliberate. I watched as she walked deeper into the maze, becoming a shifting ghost of mirrors and reflections.

Wednesday’s POV

As I moved through the maze, the glass surfaces reflected Y/n’s form—always watching, always following, even if she stood still. It was irritating how her presence lingered, carving out space in my mind where none should exist. She was a paradox; a being I wanted to avoid, yet always found myself confronting.

She’d gotten too close. Not physically—there was always some distance I could claim. But with words, looks, her damnable confidence. It gnawed at me that my composure had faltered, even if briefly. The carnival’s noise and chaos outside seemed to amplify what I refused to acknowledge.

Focus. The word repeated itself in my mind like a mantra. I turned a corner, scanning the mirrored path ahead. This maze, this ridiculous charade, was a distraction. I needed control, not confusion. Yet every step brought her voice to mind, every reflection a reminder of the tension neither of us would name.

Footsteps approached. I stiffened, ready to parry another round of words. But it wasn’t Y/n who appeared—it was Enid, her bright smile glowing under the carnival lights that crept in through slits and cracks. “Found you!”

Part 2

Pairing:Wednesday Addams x FemVampire! Reader

Summary: The Fem!reader, vampire with a penchant for dark humor and psychopathic tendencies, is sent to Nevermore Academy by her parents following an unpleasant incident involving the murder of a couple of triple students in her previous school. Despite their contrasting personalities, the reader and Wednesday form a complex bond, navigating their differences while facing challenges that threaten to keep them apart.

A/N: This text combines three chapters written at different times, so there might be slight differences in style. Also, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes))

Warnings: Shitty humor

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The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the picturesque town. It was a quaint, almost idyllic place, with its cobblestone streets and charming old buildings—a far cry from the darkness that lurked within the reader's soul. She stood at the edge of town, a lone figure amidst the bustle of the afternoon crowd. Tall and imposing, with an air of quiet confidence that set her apart from the ordinary townsfolk, she surveyed her surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

The Y/n was not here by choice. No, she had been sent—a pawn in a game she had no desire to play. Her parents, in their infinite wisdom—or perhaps, their utter lack thereof—had deemed it necessary to exile her to Nevermore Academy, a school for misfits and outcasts. It was a punishment disguised as a solution, a way to rid themselves of a daughter whose darkness they could no longer abide.

And so, here she was, alone in a town that reeked of desperation and decay, a stranger in a strange land. It was a bitter irony, she thought, that a creature such as herself—a creature of the night, born to roam the shadows—should find herself so utterly exposed in the harsh light of day. But she was not one to dwell on self-pity, nor was she inclined to mourn the loss of a home she had long outgrown. No, she would embrace this new chapter of her existence with the same ferocity that she embraced life itself.

With a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes, the Y/n turned her gaze towards the looming silhouette of Nevermore Academy, its spires reaching towards the heavens like the fingers of a long-forgotten deity. And as she took her first steps towards her new prison, she couldn't help but wonder what twisted fate awaited her within its hallowed halls.

*Y/n POV*

As I stepped into the imposing entrance hall of Nevermore Academy, I was greeted by the sight of a young girl. She was dressed in the school uniform, her blond hair falling in waves around her shoulders as she approached with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Welcome to Nevermore Academy," she said with a wry smile, extending her hand in greeting. "I'm Enid Sinclair. And you must be the new arrival."

I nodded, returning her handshake. Enid's warmth and charm were a welcome contrast to the oppressive atmosphere that hung me like a shroud.

"Nice to meet you," I replied with a forced smile. There's no point in being rude, this school is my last resort, and it's better to try to be nicer to people. "I must admit, I wasn't sure if anyone would meet me."

" I always give a tour of the school to new students, especially since you will be my roommate." A smile spread across her face. God, I wish I could be as carefree "It's going to be so much fun, you, me and Wednesday are three new best friends".

Three best friends? Well, that's one way to look at it—a trio of misfits ready to conquer the world, or at least survive sharing a room.

"Wow, lucky me," I muttered inwardly, plastering on a grin that probably looked more like a grimace. "I've always wanted to be part of a trio. How did you know?" 

I forced another polite smile, masking my inner cynicism with practiced ease. "Okay, we can't stand here all day. Let's go. "

After walking around all the main areas of the school, Enid and I headed towards our room. The whole time we were walking, I couldn't shake the feeling that this place was definitely going to be interesting. Enid had her own issues, but I'd always been attracted to people who looked at the world with an unhealthy amount of optimism. Talking to her should dilute my morbid thoughts with a touch of sweet idiocy. For being alone with myself again does me no good, though it gives me a lot of pleasure.

“So, roomie, ready to see your new abode?” - Enid said with a smile, her hand resting on the doorknob. With a casual shrug, I followed her into the room.

A huge room greeted us, with beds on both sides. The left side was a riot of colors, what I would call “colorblind worst nightmare” It was a cacophony of hues that defied description. Plush toys adorned one wall. Well at least it is not dakimakura with half-naked characters from anime or furi costumes. On the other side of the room, the atmosphere was stark—black linens on the bed, a desk, and a typewriter. Its practically untouched. It felt more like a museum piece than a living space, devoid of any trace of personality. Enid had mentioned that the other girl had only recently moved in…

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM ROOM?” – Enid asked in irritation.

Her voice startling me out of my thoughts. Distractedly looking around the room, I completely missed the girl who was tearing off colored stickers from the right half of the huge window. It must be Wednesday.

“Dividing our room equally,” replied Wednesday, her voice dripping with disdain. She kicked the last of the colored paper to Enid's side for emphasis. "It looks like a rainbow vomited on your side." She finished in a calm tone, as she returned to the desk at her side of the room.

God, I love drama.

“I...” I could literally see Enid's ears steaming right now.

“Silence would be appreciated.” Wednesday spoke as she quickly cut her roommate off. "This is my writing time."

I like this school already.

“Your writing time ? ” Enid asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wednesday rolled up her sleeves as she situated herself in front of her typewriter. “I devote an hour a day to my novel. Perhaps if you did the same your vlog might be coherent.” she slides the carriage of the typewriter to the side as she continued, “I've read serial killer diaries with better punctuation.”

She read serial killer diaries? One point to the goth girl.

Enid clenched her fists “I write in my voice. It's my truth. It's what my followers love.”

“Your followers are clearly imbeciles.” Wednesday stood up from her desk as she moved infront of Enid. “They respond to your stories with insipid little pictures.”

“Uh, you mean emoji's?” a small smile appears on Enid face “It's how people express their feelings. I realize that's a foreign concept to you.”

“When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind. Rope, shovel, hole.” She continues “By the way, there are two D's in Addams." she moved back over to her desk. “If you're going to gossip about me, at least spell my name correctly.”

“Ahem”- as much as I'd love for this delightful show to continue, I can't just stand there like an idiot with things to do. I could certainly settle down nicely on my suitcase to brew some coffee and continue watching this wonderful drama, but I think sooner or later they'll notice me.

“Oh, sorry about that please, I'm just not used to this attitude. Wednesday, meet Y/n. She's going to live with us too.”

“That's okay, Enid, you can continue this lovely conversation, very intriguing actually. All I need to do is put my things somewhere and ideally lie down myself. The long drive and the splendid but somewhat drawn-out tour, has tired me out.”

Wednesday turned to me. “Nice to meet you, now if you'll excuse it’s my writing time,” she said, before turning back to her typewriter. She began methodically tapping the keys of her typewriter.

I smiled to myself, amused by the interaction. These two were definitely something else.

“Ms. Thornhill has decided that your bed will be on Wednesday's side, there's more room and the closet is close by. Bed should be arriving soon, but in the meantime, you can lay out your things, the outer two doors are yours.”

“Got it, okay then, that's what I'll do for now.”

Taking the suitcase in my hands I headed over to the closet, starting to put things away. I've always had a problem with this, not that I don't like it on the contrary, pedantically folding shirt to shirt, pants to pants, has always calmed me down. Things in the closet should look like they're on the counter of a boutique. If something doesn't look right, I can't sleep well.

Enid put on a song. I guess this is another one of God's tests for all the sins I've done. Don't get me wrong, I like music, but on rare occasions. People who play it on a regular basis to soundtrack their daily routine are the real psychopaths.

“Turn it off!” Wednesday gets up from her chair and heads over to Enid.

I couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the exchange. It was moments like this that made me grateful for immortality. Trying not to attract attention, I peeked out from behind the locker door, amused by the unfolding drama.

“This is your final warning!”

As she got too close Enid raised her hands and let out her rainbow painted nails out a claw. “Don't mess with me. This kitty’s got claws and I’m not afraid to use them.”

Suddenly the door swings open and a woman walks into the room.

“Good evening girls.” She looks around the room throwing a glance first at me and then at Wednesday. “I wanted to make sure that Wednesday and Y/n was settling in...”

She walks to the middle of the room, kicking up mud from her shoes on the wooden floor…. It drives me insane.

“I’m Ms. Thornhill, your dorm mom. Apologies, I wasn't here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Enid has given you the old Nevermore welcome.”

“She's been smothering us with hospitality, I hope to return the favor. In her sleep”.

Such unconcealed aggression, I like it.

“Enid did a great job of showing and telling me everything, thank her so much, and it's nice to meet you,” I interjected, wanting to move the conversation along.

Ms. Thornhill turned to me, offering a warm smile. “I'm very glad it went well.”

“The only thing I would like to ask about is the bed. I wouldn't really want to sleep on the floor on the first day in such a beautiful place. It would have dampened all the excitement I got out of today.”

“Oh right, the guys were supposed to bring it, but it looks like they're running late. I'll have to find them again and tell them.”

At this rate, I was going to sleep on the floor tonight.

“Ms. Thornhill, why do we need the guys? Why don't you just show me where to get it, and I'll take it from there? I think I'm strong enough to do that,” I replied with a sweet smile.

She looked at me in disbelief. I smiled a little, letting her catch a glimpse of my fangs.

“Ah, okay, I didn't realize right away. Not all vampires who are in this school have abilities such as strength or speed, so...Let's go,” she said, turning around and heading for the door. I followed her, casting a disdainful glance at the dirt left on the floor.

Who even does things like that?

Y/n POV

The walk with Ms. Thornhill was uneventful, except for her curious glances, which I pretended not to notice. She seemed… overly friendly, and her cheery disposition grated against every instinct I had. There was something unsettling in how her smile lingered just a bit too long. Still, I played the obedient new student—sweet smiles, polite nods, not even a hint of fangs. It wasn’t hard to find the storage area, cluttered with dusty furniture and half-forgotten relics from who knows how long ago. With little more than a gesture, I hefted the bedframe onto my shoulder, making it look far easier than it should have been.

As I walked back through the hallways of Nevermore, I couldn’t help but scan the dimly lit corridors and high arched ceilings. This place was dripping with history and secrets—I could practically taste it in the air. I wondered what kind of skeletons were hiding in these closets and whether any of them were literal. The thought amused me enough to crack a smile, which I quickly smothered when I caught sight of the door to our room.

Returning to find Enid attempting to cheerfully hang more decorations—and failing spectacularly in the face of Wednesday’s withering glares—was almost worth the trouble. Almost. I stepped into the room, set down the bedframe with a soft thud, and stretched slightly, letting out a satisfied sigh that earned me a sideways glance from both girls. I raised an eyebrow at Wednesday, who, naturally, looked unimpressed.

“You’re back,” she stated flatly, her attention already returning to the clack of typewriter keys. “I’d begun hoping you’d gotten lost and decided to stay that way.”

I grinned, leaning casually against the wall as I met her icy gaze. “Oh, did you miss me already, Wednesday? I’m touched.” I let my words drip with playful mockery, watching for her reaction.

She didn’t even pause her typing. “I don’t miss nuisances. They have a way of making themselves known whether one wishes it or not.”

“Well, it’s good to know I’ve made an impression,” I replied lightly, crossing my arms. “I do so hate being forgettable.”

There it was—a slight pause in her keystrokes. Barely perceptible, but I saw it. Victory. She resumed typing, but I could see the muscles in her jaw tense, and that alone was worth every ounce of effort. Behind me, Enid let out an exaggerated groan.

“Can you two not flirt for five minutes?” Enid asked, half-exasperated and half-amused as she tossed another garish pillow onto her bed.

“Flirting?” I said innocently, a hand coming to my chest. “Enid, I think you’ve misunderstood me. I was simply trying to have a civil conversation.”

“Your idea of civil conversation seems to involve needling people until they bleed,” Wednesday remarked coolly, finally glancing my way. “I’m sure you’re quite proud of yourself.”

“Oh, very,” I said, flashing a grin that showed just the hint of fang. “But I only needle people who are interesting. Take that as a compliment.”

Her expression didn’t change, but there was a spark in her dark eyes. A dangerous, calculating spark. “Compliments from you hold about as much value as a counterfeit coin. Useless and possibly diseased.”

I tilted my head, letting my smile widen. “And yet you’ve pocketed it anyway.”

“Enough!” Enid interjected, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m already regretting my decision to be roommates with either of you.”

“I thought we were best friends, Enid?” I teased, giving her a mock-wounded look. She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself.

As the brief silence fell, Wednesday turned back to her typewriter, the clack of the keys resuming with renewed vigor. I moved to finish setting up my space, feeling her presence keenly even as she pretended, I didn’t exist. But I knew better. She’d noticed me, whether she liked it or not. And I intended to keep it that way.

I focused on arranging the few belongings I had, keeping one eye on my two roommates. Enid flitted around, determined to keep the atmosphere upbeat despite the thickening tension, while Wednesday remained stoic, her fingers tapping out words with relentless precision. The mechanical clatter of the typewriter filled the room, a fitting soundtrack to our peculiar dynamic.

As I stowed the last of my clothes, I moved to the shared windowsill. Half of it, Wednesday’s half, was bare and colorless, just like the rest of her side. I dragged a finger across the divider she’d drawn—black tape down the middle, stark and deliberate. When she’d divided the room, she hadn’t left any margin for negotiation. That was fine. I wasn’t one to negotiate either.

“Did you choose the décor yourself?” I asked, tone light but teasing. “It really says a lot about you.”

The typewriter stopped mid-sentence, and her head turned, her expression a mask of cold detachment. “If by ‘a lot’ you mean ‘nothing,’ then you are correct. My surroundings reflect my disregard for frivolity.”

I leaned back against the windowsill, arms crossed, giving her a slow once-over. “Yes, I see that. Stark, somber, a touch of morbidity… What’s next, Wednesday? Iron bars over your window? A ‘keep out’ sign? Or is this already your version of a welcome mat?”

“Those who need signs to warn them of danger are already too foolish to avoid it,” she retorted, her voice like ice. She didn’t look away, and I felt the weight of her attention settle on me like a dare.

“Danger? That sounds intriguing.” I stepped closer, deliberately closing the space between us. “But I’d rather find out for myself than take your word for it.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought she’d lash out. Instead, she simply pushed her chair back with a quiet scrape and stood. “Are you always this insufferable?” she asked, stepping closer herself. We were nearly face-to-face now, her glare as sharp as a blade.

“Only when I’m provoked,” I said, my voice softening, the challenge in it unmistakable. “Or intrigued.”

For a heartbeat, I thought she might reach for one of her knives. It wouldn’t have surprised me. But then she stepped back, and the flicker of emotion was gone, replaced by a cold, composed exterior. “Intrigue is a fleeting distraction. You’ll tire of it soon enough.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” I murmured, watching her turn her back to me and return to her typewriter. I had to give it to her; she was disciplined. She’d withdrawn from the confrontation as if it hadn’t fazed her, as if the moment hadn’t happened. But it had.

Enid broke the silence, plopping down onto her bed with a frustrated sigh. “Why can’t we all just get along? Isn’t this supposed to be like… the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”

“I don’t recall asking for friendship,” Wednesday replied without looking up.

“And I don’t recall rejecting it,” I added with a smirk, earning a scoff from Wednesday.

“See?” Enid grinned, ever the optimist. “Progress! I’m telling you, we’re going to be the best trio ever. Just give it time.”

“Optimism is a fool’s currency,” Wednesday stated, resuming her typing. “It’s usually spent too freely and leaves the owner penniless.”

“Good thing I have plenty to spare,” Enid shot back, unfazed. She turned to me. “Y/n, you’ll see. She’s all doom and gloom now, but she’ll warm up eventually.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” I said, letting the implication linger. “Though I have to admit, I like her just the way she is.”

Wednesday’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second, and my grin widened. There it was again—the tell that she was paying attention, even if she pretended otherwise.

Enid reached for her phone, likely ready to drown out the tension with music or social media, but she paused, her expression curious. “So, Y/n… what brought you to Nevermore?”

“Exile,” I said simply, my voice taking on a darker edge. “I’m here because my family thought it would be safer to have me… away.”

Enid blinked, unsure whether I was joking. “Safer for who?”

“Exactly.” I allowed a flicker of my fangs to show, then shrugged. “But this place isn’t so bad. It might even grow on me.”

“It’s full of disappointments,” Wednesday said coolly, not missing a beat. “Don’t let the shadows fool you.”

“Disappointments keep things interesting,” I replied, stepping back toward my side of the room. “And I’ve always been drawn to interesting things.”

I felt her eyes on me even after she turned back to her writing. This was going to be fun. Dangerous, maybe—but undeniably fun.

The next morning, the air was crisp, and a thin layer of fog crept around the gothic towers of Nevermore Academy. I found myself sitting on the edge of my freshly delivered bed, lacing up my boots. The rest of the room was quiet, but I could feel a watchful presence. Turning slightly, I caught Wednesday’s reflection in the mirror; she was silently observing me while pretending to prepare her things. Her eyes were intense as ever, like she was sizing me up, waiting for me to make the first move. It amused me, and I made no effort to hide my grin.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I teased, breaking the tension in the room.

She blinked, a slow, deliberate motion that barely disguised her disdain. “Please spare me your nauseating pleasantries.”

“Why, Wednesday, it almost sounds like you didn’t sleep well.” I stood, stretching. “I’d say I’m hurt by that, but I do recall you typing well into the night. Plotting murder, perhaps?”

“If I were plotting murder, you wouldn’t have woken up,” she replied with a deadpan expression.

I laughed softly, loving how quick she was. “Noted. I’ll try to be more deserving of your mercy.” I leaned closer as I passed her on the way to the door. “For now.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she muttered, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she was far from indifferent. Oh, this was definitely going to be an interesting place.

The hallway was bustling with other students, each an oddity in their own right—shapeshifters, psychics, sirens, and more. I navigated the throng with ease, catching glimpses of curious eyes that lingered just a moment too long. Whispers followed me. New arrivals always attracted attention, and I wasn’t exactly the type to blend in.

“Y/n!” Enid’s cheery voice pierced the noise, and she bounded over like a hyperactive puppy, practically glowing with excitement. “How did you sleep? Oh! You’re going to love breakfast here—it’s the best part of the day!”

“I’m surprised you managed to sleep at all with the ambiance,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I half-expected bats to swoop down from the rafters.

“Oh, they’ve tried.” She shrugged with a wide smile. “But seriously, come on! The sausages are to die for.”

I followed her, letting Enid’s chatter wash over me. She was like a rainbow in this dreary place, and, strangely, I found her optimism a welcome contrast. Wednesday walked a few steps behind us, silent and brooding as ever. It was almost comforting.

The cafeteria was a storm of voices, laughter, and clinking trays. Enid led me through the throng of students, her energy a stark contrast to the brooding architecture of Nevermore. We found a spot at a small table near one of the tall, stained-glass windows. As I settled in, a presence made itself known—a girl with sleek black hair, crimson-tinted sunglasses, and a confident air that turned heads without effort. She walked up, holding her tray like she owned the place.

“Mind if I join?” she asked, but it was rhetorical. She was already sitting down, her eyes on me.

Enid perked up. “Oh! Y/n, this is Yoko Tanaka. Yoko, meet Y/n. She’s new.”

“Yoko,” I repeated, my gaze trailing over her with casual interest. I extended a hand, playing along. “Nice to meet you.”

Her grip was cool, steady. She didn’t let go right away, and her lips curled into a smile. “The pleasure’s all mine. So, Enid’s newest roommate, huh? Welcome to the madhouse.”

I returned her smile, undeterred by the playful challenge in her tone. “Thanks. From what I’ve seen, I’m going to fit right in.”

“Really?” Yoko’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table. “It takes a lot to fit in here. But something tells me you’ll manage.” She tilted her head slightly. “You’re not... ordinary, are you?”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I might,” she replied, the light catching the edge of her sunglasses. “Most newcomers are easy to read. But you? You’re a little... more.”

Wednesday, who had been quietly picking at her food, suddenly spoke up. “If you two are done exchanging veiled flirtations, there are more important matters at hand.”

I turned my gaze to her, a smirk playing on my lips. “You know, Wednesday, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“Jealousy is a pointless emotion,” she said flatly, though her eyes seemed to darken. “I simply despise wasted time.”

“Oh, so you’d rather spend your time... constructively?” I asked, feigning deep interest. “Writing your next bestseller or analyzing the cafeteria’s murder statistics?”

She set her fork down with deliberate precision. “Both. I find productivity in all things. Unlike some people who waste their breath on hollow banter.”

“See?” I leaned forward conspiratorially, turning to Yoko. “This is what I get for trying to lighten the mood.”

Yoko laughed, a rich, throaty sound that drew a few glances. “You two are something. But don’t worry—I enjoy the kind of banter that makes the daylight hours less boring.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I asked, deciding to prod a little. “To liven things up for me?”

She pushed her sunglasses up, revealing striking eyes that glimmered with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure you out. Vampires don’t often get surprises, you know.”

“Vampires?” I arched an eyebrow, pretending not to know. “Is that what we’re calling ourselves these days?”

Enid jumped in with a cheerful clap of her hands. “Y/n’s also a vampire, Yoko! You two should totally hang out. Maybe you can teach her the ropes!”

Yoko’s smile widened, showing a hint of fang. “Oh, I’d be delighted. As long as she doesn’t get scared too easily.”

I matched her smile, unflinching. “Scared? That’s not really my thing.”

“Good.” Yoko’s voice dropped, her gaze sharpening. “Because there are plenty of things in Nevermore that will test your limits. I’d hate for you to miss out.”

Before I could respond, Wednesday stood up abruptly, gathering her tray. “This conversation has officially crossed into drivel. Some of us have standards.”

“Leaving already?” I asked, enjoying the way her expression never wavered.

“Unlike you, I have productive tasks awaiting me.” She paused, her dark eyes meeting mine. “Try not to lower the collective intelligence of the room while I’m gone.”

I grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

She left without another word, and for a moment, I could have sworn there was a hint of amusement hidden beneath her icy exterior. Yoko watched her go, then turned back to me, a knowing look on her face. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”