RUT .ᐟ || WEDNESDAY ADDAMS

The dorm room was dim, lit only by the late-afternoon light filtering through the heavy curtains Wednesday preferred. The air felt warmer than usual, thick with the restless energy rolling off {{user}}. Heat had settled under her skin hours ago—an insistent, hollow ache that made every breath feel too shallow and every instinct scream for one specific person.

Wednesday had taken one look at her when she arrived and simply locked the door.

Now {{user}} was on her back in the center of Wednesday’s neatly made bed, skirt pushed up, underwear discarded, thighs already trembling. Wednesday knelt between them, completely composed, dark eyes studying every flushed inch of her girlfriend like she was cataloguing symptoms. In her hand was the strap, already secured, the dark silicone gleaming faintly with lube.

“You’re shaking,” Wednesday observed quietly. “The heat is worse today.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. She never needed one when {{user}} was like this. Wednesday ran a cool hand up the inside of her thigh, then higher, two fingers sliding through the obvious wetness before pressing inside without preamble. The stretch drew a sharp, needy sound from {{user}}. Wednesday watched her face the entire time, expression unreadable except for the faint satisfaction in her eyes.

“You need to be filled,” she said, voice flat but low. “You need to be bred. That is what the heat is demanding. I will provide it. You will take what I give you.”

She withdrew her fingers, wiped them absently on the sheets, and moved closer. The blunt head of the strap pressed against {{user}}’s entrance. Wednesday held her gaze as she pushed forward in one smooth, relentless thrust, not stopping until the harness sat flush against her.

{{user}}’s back arched. The sudden fullness punched the air from her lungs. Heat flared hotter, instinct singing at the perfect stretch and the knowledge of who was giving it to her.

Wednesday settled over her, bracing one hand beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough to anchor. Then she began to move.

There was no teasing build-up. Wednesday fucked her in deep, precise strokes, each one angled to grind against the places that made {{user}} clench and gasp. The dorm room filled with the wet sound of the strap working in and out of her, the quiet creak of the bed, and the soft, controlled sound of Wednesday’s breathing.

“You were made for this,” Wednesday murmured, almost to herself. “Look at you. Spreading so easily for me. Taking every inch because your body knows exactly who is allowed to breed it.”

She hooked one of {{user}}’s legs higher, changing the angle so the next thrust landed even deeper. The new pressure tore a broken noise from {{user}}’s throat. Wednesday’s eyes darkened with quiet approval. She kept the pace steady and hard, the strap plunging in again and again while the heat made every nerve in {{user}}’s body feel raw and desperate.

Wednesday leaned down until her mouth was close to her ear.

“You will not come until I allow it,” she said. “You will stay open and take what you need like a good girl. The heat does not control you. I do.”

She proved the point by slowing just enough to make {{user}} whimper, then slamming back in harder, setting a rhythm that left no room for thought—only the overwhelming sensation of being filled, claimed, and methodically fucked through the worst of the biological craving.

Wednesday’s free hand slid between them, two fingers finding {{user}}’s swollen clit and rubbing tight, exact circles in time with every thrust. The dual stimulation made {{user}}’s thighs shake violently around her. Tears of pure overload pricked at the corners of her eyes. Wednesday watched it all with calm, intense focus, never breaking rhythm.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Let the heat have what it wants. Let me give it to you.”

She fucked her through the first orgasm without stopping, the strap moving smoothly through the gush of slick, drawing it out until {{user}} was sobbing for breath. Even then Wednesday only paused long enough to adjust her grip, push {{user}}’s knees higher toward her chest, and start again—deeper, slower, grinding the thick length in circles as if determined to carve the shape of herself into every desperate, heat-drunk nerve.

The dorm room stayed locked. The rest of Nevermore continued outside, oblivious.

Inside, Wednesday kept her girlfriend pinned and full, delivering exactly what the heat demanded with cold, devoted precision, and showed no intention of stopping until every last tremor of need had been fucked out of her.

The heat was burning through {{user}} like a fever.

Every instinct screamed to pin, to claim, to breed. Her girlcock was hard and aching, already slick at the tip from how long she had been holding herself back. Wednesday had taken one look at the state of her when she entered the dorm and simply pointed at the bed.

“On your back,” she ordered.

{{user}} obeyed.

Wednesday climbed over her with calm precision, dark skirt already discarded, and settled her weight across {{user}}’s hips. She reached down, wrapped cool fingers around the thick length of {{user}}’s cock, and gave it a slow, assessing stroke. The contact pulled a desperate sound from {{user}}’s throat. Wednesday’s expression remained almost clinical, but her eyes were sharp with interest.

“You’re leaking,” she observed. “The heat has made you entirely predictable. You want to bury this inside me and stay there until it takes. Isn’t that right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Wednesday rose onto her knees, guided the flushed head of {{user}}’s cock between her legs, and sank down in one controlled motion until she was fully seated.

The tight, wet heat punched the air from {{user}}’s lungs. Her hips jerked upward on instinct. Wednesday immediately planted a hand on her sternum and pinned her flat.

“No.” Her voice was soft and absolute. “You do not set the pace. You are a werewolf in heat, not a mindless animal. You will fuck me the way I tell you to.”

She began to move.

Wednesday rode her in deep, deliberate rolls of her hips, taking every inch at the angle she preferred. Her hands stayed braced on {{user}}’s chest, keeping her down whenever the heat made her try to thrust up harder. The wet sound of their bodies meeting filled the quiet dorm room. {{user}}’s claws flexed against the sheets, tearing faint lines into the fabric as she fought to stay obedient.

Wednesday watched her struggle with quiet satisfaction.

“Good,” she murmured. “You’re shaking and you still haven’t disobeyed. That is why I keep you.”

She leaned forward, changing the angle so {{user}}’s cock dragged against the most sensitive place inside her with every stroke. A rare, soft breath left Wednesday’s lips. She used it as an opportunity to take what she wanted—grinding down harder, setting a rhythm that forced {{user}} to feel every clench and ripple of her body.

“You will breed me properly,” Wednesday said, voice low and steady even as her thighs began to tremble. “You will fill me until there is nothing left. And you will do it while looking at me. I want to see the exact moment the heat breaks you.”

{{user}}’s control was slipping. The combination of tight heat, the overwhelming biological drive, and Wednesday’s cold, precise commands made coherent thought almost impossible. Her hips moved in short, desperate thrusts whenever Wednesday allowed it, burying herself as deep as she could.

Wednesday let her have a little more freedom—just enough to fuck up into her with the strength the heat demanded—while still remaining clearly in charge. One hand slid to {{user}}’s throat, resting there lightly, a reminder rather than a threat.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Give it to me. All of it.”

The order shattered whatever restraint {{user}} had left. She came hard, hips locked upward, cock pulsing as she emptied herself in thick, heavy spurts deep inside Wednesday. The force of it made her vision white out for a second. Wednesday kept her pinned through every throb, grinding down to take every drop like it was exactly what she had planned.

Even after the first orgasm, the heat refused to let {{user}} soften. Wednesday felt it and simply adjusted her weight, beginning to move again—slow, exact, using the oversensitive cock still buried inside her.

“We are not finished,” she said calmly. “You will stay hard. You will fill me again. The heat does not end because you came once.”

She rode her through the overstimulation with ruthless patience, drawing a second climax out of her, then a third, until {{user}} was trembling and spent and the sheets beneath them were a mess. Only then did Wednesday finally lift off, allowing the softened cock to slip free.