Wednesday Edit
Song: The Long Song from Doctor Who
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Hello, This is a story i made about Wednesday Addams, I had always wanted to write a story like this, Hope you like it. 💕
The Raven, the Crow and the Mongoose
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Wednesday Addams stood at 25, a fully grown woman with the same pale skin, sharp black braids, and unyielding stare that had unnerved people since childhood. She kept in touch with Enid Sinclair through sporadic texts about werewolf pack drama and the occasional coffee meetup, and a handful of old Nevermore friends popped up in her life now and then—mostly for morbid storytelling sessions. Dating? Marriage? Those were absurd notions, chains she’d never wear. Her world was solitude, writing her dark tales, and wandering graveyards for inspiration. Romance was for the weak-willed.
Then she met John Blackwood at a dimly lit poetry reading in a forgotten corner of Jericho. He was a poet, mid-thirties, with tousled dark hair, a perpetual scowl etched into his angular face, and eyes like storm clouds—grumpy, stoic, mirroring her own disdain for the world’s frivolities. Their first encounter was a clash: she critiqued his poem on eternal night as ‘pedestrian drivel masquerading as profundity,’ and he shot back that her own submission read like 'a child’s tantrum in verse.’ Sparks flew, not the romantic kind, but the explosive sort that left scorch marks.
For months, they crossed paths at readings, bookshops, even a cemetery tour where they argued over the symbolism of wilted roses. Bickering became their language—sharp words traded like daggers, each trying to outwit the other. John called her 'the ice queen of macabre,’ and she’d retort he was 'a brooding corpse with a quill.’ Neither admitted the thrill in it, the way their debates lit a fire neither had felt before.
One rainy evening, in the green room of a rundown theater hosting an open mic, the argument escalated. They’d both read that night—her piece on inevitable decay, his on shadowed desires—and backstage, tempers boiled over a spilled coffee that stained his notebook. 'You clumsy goth relic,’ he huffed with an eye roll, looming close in the cramped space lined with faded velvet curtains and dusty props. 'Watch your shadows, poetaster,’ she hissed, stepping into his space, noses almost brushing. The air crackled, words dying on their lips as something shifted. His hand shot out to grip her arm—not to push, but to pull—and their mouths crashed together in a fierce, biting kiss. Teeth clashed, tongues battled for dominance, her fingers twisting into his shirt as if to tear it off. It was messy, urgent, tasting of black coffee and unspoken hunger.
They broke apart gasping, stares locked in shock. Wednesday’s heart hammered—a foreign rhythm—but she didn’t pull away. Neither did he. From that kiss, love bloomed like a poisonous flower, dark and intoxicating. Stolen moments turned to dates in abandoned libraries, shared silences broken by whispers of verses. John softened her edges without dulling them; she challenged his stoicism, drawing out rare smiles. Two years later, in a simple ceremony at a moonlit graveyard—witnessed by Enid and a few old friends—they married. No frills, just vows exchanged over a shared flask of absinthe, rings simple silver bands.
Their wedding night unfolded in the Addams family home, a sprawling gothic mansion with creaking floors and eternal cobwebs. Wednesday led him to the master bedroom, its four-poster bed draped in black silk, candles flickering shadows on the walls. She was the top, always—John yielded outside the bedroom’s fire but surrendered fully within. Yet as she pushed him onto the mattress, unbuttoning her black lace corset to reveal her small, pert breasts with dark nipples already hardening, awkwardness crept in. At 25, she’d never done anything, not with anyone or by herself but this intimacy felt like navigating a ritual she hadn’t rehearsed. Her pale skin flushed faintly, hands hesitating as she stripped his shirt, exposing his lean, toned slightly bulky chest .
John watched her with those stormy eyes, cock already straining against his trousers—thick and veined, seven inches of rigid need. 'Wednesday,’ he murmured, voice rough but submissive, hands resting palms-up on the sheets in offering. She straddled his hips, grinding her slick pussy against the bulge, feeling her own arousal soak through her panties. But uncertainty made her movements stiff; she fumbled with his belt, cursing under her breath as the leather slipped.
'Let me help,’ he offered softly, but she shook her head, determined. Finally freeing his cock, it sprang up, head flushed purple and leaking a pearl of precum. She wrapped her fingers around the base—cool grip making him hiss—and stroked experimentally, watching his face contort in pleasure. John bucked lightly, but held back, letting her set the pace. Wednesday positioned herself, guiding the tip to her entrance, her folds parting wetly. She sank down slowly, inch by inch, the stretch burning sweetly as his girth filled her tight channel. A soft, uncomfortable inhale escaped her—not pain, but the overwhelm of not knowing how to move, how to chase the building heat.
She rocked tentatively, hips circling in awkward figure-eights, her braids swaying. John groaned beneath her, hands gripping the sheets, his submission fueling her control. 'Fuck, Wednesday… so tight around me,’ he panted, but didn’t thrust up—waiting for her command. The friction built, her clit grinding against his pubic bone, but she was clumsy, pace uneven. His breaths quickened, balls drawing tight, and suddenly he shattered—cock pulsing inside her, hot spurts of cum flooding her walls before she’d even peaked. Thick ropes coated her depths, some leaking out around his base as he shuddered, a low moan escaping his lips.
Wednesday paused, staring down at him with a mix of surprise and amusement. His face was flushed, eyes glazed in post-orgasm haze, cock still twitching softly within her. A light mock curled her lips. 'Already? Pathetic, poet. I barely started.’ Her voice was dry, teasing, but her pussy clenched around him, aroused by his quick surrender. John flushed deeper, murmuring apologies, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips. 'Stay still. My turn.’
She resumed, more confidently now, lifting and slamming down harder, using his spent cock like a toy. The slick mix of his cum and her juices eased the glide, her walls fluttering as pleasure coiled tight. John’s hands finally moved to her hips—not guiding, but supporting—as she rode him faster, small breasts bouncing slightly with each drop. When her orgasm hit, it was quiet—a sharp intake of breath, body tensing like a coiled spring. She wasn’t loud, no screams or cries, but her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him tighter than ever, nails digging into his shoulders as waves pulsed through her, pussy milking every last drop from him. Her release soaked his thighs, a soft gush against his skin.
They collapsed together, her on top, breaths mingling. John nuzzled her neck, whispering praises she pretended to ignore. From then on, sex was her domain—once every 2 weeks, her ironclad rule, on Wednesdays in their candlelit bed. She dictated every encounter: binding his wrists with silk ties while she sucked his cock slow and deep, tongue swirling the head until he begged; or edging him with her hand, fingers slick with spit, stopping just before he came until tears pricked his eyes. Outside the bedroom, he was her equal—grumpy debates over breakfast, stoic walks in the fog—but between sheets, he was bottom, yielding to her commands, cock hard and leaking for her touch.
She’d pin him down, straddling his lap to grind her pussy against him .He obediently did what she would ask of him, while she mocked his eagerness. 'Eager tongue for a man who writes such lofty nonsense,’ she’d say, coming with that same tight hold, thighs clamping on his sides. Or she’d ride him reverse, ass cheeks spreading as she took him deep, controlling the depth and speed until he spilled inside her again, always first, her orgasm a silent vice around him.
Months into their rhythm, Wednesday noticed changes—her cycles shifted, nausea in the mornings, a faint swell to her usually flat belly. John noticed too, his stoic mask cracking with quiet joy during their weekly session. As she lowered onto his cock that night, he rubbed the subtle curve, eyes soft. 'Our child,’ he whispered, submissive even in awe. She rode him steady, hand over his on her abdomen, the knowledge adding intensity. When he came—quick as ever, flooding her with thick cum—she followed soon after, holding him close, the pregnancy a dark, welcome twist in their eternal night.
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ребята, я опять начну активничать)) У меня появилось вдохновение!✩ Недавно я узнала о сериале “Мартира”! он очень классный) там 7 серий, он в жанре абстрактного сериала с элементами мистики! Он русский, есть серии на ютуб- канале na pag-unawa(и Тик-Ток аккаунт: na pag-unawa). Мне сериал понравился, я его полюбила с первого взгляда, зацепил прям) Я ещё я заинтересовалась Семейкой Аддамс, в основном телесериалом 1964 года. Мне понравился Ларч, ну, да, конечно. Он один из моих любимых персонажей. И мне вдруг пришло в голову соединить сериал “ Мартира” и “Семейку Аддамс”. А именно, на роль Мартиры поставить Ларча(да, он мужчина, а главная героиня оригинального сериала женщина, ну ладно. Скажу, что сам Ларч будет иногда разговаривать, ну, говорить он будет, конечно. У него ещё волосы длинные будут. И он будет уметь шить) На роль мужа Мартиры – я поставлю Тривию(женщина, школьная подруга Мортиши. В серии “Семейки Аддамс” Ларч в неё влюбился, но это было не взаимно. Потом Тривия выпила зелье и по уши влюбилась в него, он испугался её поведения, она за ним бегала по всему дому. Затем она влюблялась во всех подряд, в Гомеза, в дядю Фестера, в кузена Итта) В конце концов, она уехала, а Ларч так и не нашел себе пару. Грустно как то. Поэтому, в моей AU они будут женаты(Ларч и Тривия – муж и жена соответственно) Все события, что происходили в эпизодах “Мартиры” будут случатся и с Ларчем(кстати, у супругов будет собственный трехкомнатный дом) У Тривии на лице будет белая лица, как и у остальных персонажей в “Мартире”.
В роли мачехи Мартиры - мама Ларча. У неё на лице также будет маска.
В роли заказчицы Мартиры - Мортиша(да, да, мне кажется, подходит) На её лице также присутствует белая маска.
В роли заказчицы Мартиры - Мортиша(да, да, мне кажется, подходит) На её лице также присутствует белая маска.
Ну и впрочем, вот и все. А, ещё кое-что, эта AU будет в формате фанфикшена. Части будут выходить на Ваттпаде и на Фикбуке. (Писать я буду на школьных каникулах или вечером) Их будет всего 7, они будут маленькие(сколько частей в моем фанфике - столько же эпизодов в оригинальном сериале “Мартира”(7 chapters = 7 episodes) Иногда я буду рисовать рисунки и скетчи по своей альтернативной вселенной. Мне кажется, выйдет нормально. Я так думаю. (Если я не заброшу писать сразу, мне бывает лень писать) В своих мыслях я часто придумываю отрывки из частей своей AU) У меня сейчас 10:32 PM
Guys, I’m going to get active again)) I got inspired!✩ I recently found out about the series “Martira”! he’s very cool) There are 7 episodes, it’s in the genre of an abstract series with elements of mysticism! He is Russian, and there are episodes on the na pag-unawa YouTube channel (and a Tiktok account: na pag-unawa). I liked the series, I fell in love with it at first sight, I just got hooked) I also became interested in the Addams Family, mainly the 1964 TV series. I liked the Lurch, well, yes, of course. He’s one of my favorite characters. And it suddenly occurred to me to combine the series “Martira” and “The Addams Family.” Namely, to put Lurch in the role of Martira (yes, he is a man, and the main character of the original series is a woman, well, okay. I’ll say that Lurch himself will sometimes talk, well, he will, of course. He’ll still have long hair. And he will be able to sew) For the role of Martira’s husband, I will put Trivia (a woman, a school friend of Morticia. In the Addams Family episode, Lurch fell in love with her, but it wasn’t mutual. Then Trivia drank the potion and fell head over heels in love with him, he was afraid of her behavior, she ran after him all over the house. Then she fell in love with everyone, with Gomez, with Uncle Fester, with Cousin Itt) In the end, she left, and Lurch never found a mate. It’s kind of sad. Therefore, in my AU they will be married (Lurch and Trivia are husband and wife respectively) All the events that happened in the episodes of “Martira” will happen to Lurch (by the way, the couple will have their own three-room house) Trivia will have a white mask on her face, just like the rest of the characters in “Martira”
In the role of Martira’s stepmother is Lurch’s mom. She will also have a mask on her face.
In the role of Martira’s friend - Morticia (yes, yes, I think it suits) (She also has a white mask on her face)
Anyway, that’s it. And, one more thing, this book will be in the fanfiction format. The parts will be released on a Wattpad and on a Ficbook. (I will write during the school holidays or in the evening) There will be only 7 of them, they will be small(how many parts do I have in fanfiction - the same number of episodes in the original series “Martira”). Sometimes I’ll draw drawings and sketches in my Alternate Universe. I think it’s going to be okay. I think so. (If I don’t stop writing right away, I may be too lazy to write) In my thoughts, I often come up with excerpts from parts of my AU) It’s 10:32 PM now.
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get me love like gothic couples.
Morticia and Gomez type love is what I want.
Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett. (kinda toxic tho ngl 😀)
that one scene in Sweeney Todd when they are dancing 🙏
Gang ik he kills her after this but still 😔
ITS LIKE PEAK, I WANNA DANCE WITH MY PARTNER LIKE THIS BRO. ITS BEEN TOO LONG SINCE IVE WALTZED/ref 😭😭
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“Oh, Cousin Itt, I know I’ve troubled you many times for the honour of gnawing the birds out of your coiffe”
“Fester! That’s French!”
“Get away from me! Go talk to your wife!”
My fucking word this man’s obession with the French language is going to kill me.
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A few drawings ive made for people I know in real life, and have given out!! The names on the drawings arent their actual names, and id rather keep their identities anonymous and not known for privacy sake.
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Grandmama Addams was giving away ides of march presents before tumblr even existed. She was visionary
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doing dress rehearsal for the addams family in school tmrw and im playing grandma.. im a man. Local School Forces Young Impressionable Teenage Boy To Wear A DRESS And A WIG Around The Building
fox news WILL hear about this
Link
Alchemy of Souls (54013 words) by MidnightLoveStories [AO3]
Chapters:
7/?
Fandom:
Addams Family (TV 1964), Addams Family - All Media Types, The Addams Family (Movies - Sonnenfeld)
Rating:
Mature
Warnings:
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships:
Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Morticia Addams / Balthazar Addams, Ophelia Frump/Original Character(s)
Characters:
Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams, Ophelia Frump, Tully Alford, Margaret Alford-Addams, Original Addams Characters (Addams Family), Grandmama Addams (Addams Family), Uncle Fester, Granny Frump (Addams Family), Cousin Balthazar (Addams Family)
Additional Tags:
Drama & Romance, Family Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Falling In Love, Character Death, Fluff and Humor, Romantic Comedy, Sort Of, Happy Ending, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mild Sexual Content, Witchcraft, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Emotional Intimacy, Work In Progress
Summary:
Gomez Addams always believed funerals were the perfect place to meet kindred spirits but he didn’t expect to be thunderstruck by a mysterious enchantress standing beside the casket of his dearly (and recently) departed cousin Balthazar.
She’s beautiful and mysterious. She’s also… the widow.
