#breen writes

“Logan…” The professor reproached when he saw his previous interlocutor redirected his way to you.

Jean was long gone at that moment.

“What did you do?” Was his first question.

“I-I didn't do a-anything.” You stuttered at the same time you shrug your shoulders.

“Of course you did! I had a sudden urge to apologize to Charles for how I talked to him. How did you do that?”

“Y/N has the gift of convention, to call it that way. But she doesn’t control it just yet.” Xavier came to your defense. Logan looked at him, waiting for an explanation. “Her body produces pheromones that allow her to verbally control other people’s actions. But, for some reason, she couldn’t do it with you. It must be your healing factor that makes you immune.”

The dark eyed man turned to you again, got dangerously close and said, “So, Y/N,” He took a lock of your hair and instinctively you stepped back. “Aren't you going to say sorry for what you almost made me do?”

You flipped and apologized in an almost inaudible whisper. You felt Charles' presence in your head, probably making sure you wouldn’t say something out of line, causing Logan to be more pissed. Logan’s body moved away from yours and shot off in his initial direction.

When he was out of sight, you let out the oxygen you didn’t know you were holding.

As the days went by, you would find him everywhere. At the garden when you were studying, in front of the classrooms before your every class, waiting for you by the door of your room at the end of the day.

He said he wanted to learn how you used your powers with others, but you never fell for his provocations. Not until that day he spanked your asscheek in front of your classmates, freezing you in the spot. Scott was about to touch your shoulder when you asked him to step back. All of the presents did as you said, except for the now satisfied Wolverine, who stood in his exact position with the biggest smile on his lips.

“I see.” He smiled widely. “That’s how you made friends so easily here.”

Your blood boiled; the only solution to appease the smoke that was about to come out of your ears was to slap him hard with the back of your hand. It was when his head turned to the left that you realized your actions. You apologized again and got out of there.

You wouldn't admit it if you were asked, but it was not Logan you were mad at. At least, not in its totality. Your anger was rather directed to yourself the second you realized that you were not actually hating on Logan's manners but quite the opposite.

Days became weeks and the presence of your new friend only became more and more annoying. The contact between his hand and your ass became a recurrent thing, inviting you to use your ability with whoever that found themselves close to show him how it worked. Of course, you didn't give him the satisfaction and walked away with your tongue strongly held between your teeth and your cheeks burning with both rage and embarrassment.

More often than not you'd feel yourself getting wet by the thought of his big hands squeezing your butt as he railed you senseless.

Which was one of the reasons you'd rather stay away from him. You didn't know if those thoughts of yours would somehow make their way inside Logan's head, giving him yet another excuse to bug you.

That day, it was late when you arrived at the mansion and your shoes were killing you slowly. You couldn't wait to take them off.

A big figure was leaning against your door frame; big arms crossed and a foot lazily pressed against the wall, a view you were getting used to. Rolling your eyes, you decided to ignore him. Maybe that way he’ll leave faster and you wouldn't have to deal with another ruined pair of panties.

“You won’t say ‘hello’?” His lips brushed your ear from behind while you opened the door and you unconsciously closed your eyes for a second.

“I don’t see why I should do that.” You entered your room, with all the intention of closing the door as soon as possible. “Good night.”

You did not achieve your goal though, thanks to a brown boot that got lodged between the door and the frame.

“What do you want?” You fully opened the door to let him see your annoyance better, but he took it as an invitation and entered. “Sure, come in.” You murmured and the man stopped just like in past times.

“I came with a proposal.” And as simple as that, he plopped in your bed.

“I’m all ears.”

You hadn't even had time to turn on the light, so you turned to look for the switch. When you finally located it, you felt a pair of hands on your stomach. By inertia, you held the air in your lungs.

Logan’s hands caressed from your waist to your belly and his lips searched for a spot to locate in the curve of your shoulder. Needless to say, your breath could create a whirlpool in front of you at that point.

“I've come to the conclusion that you don't like this little game we’ve been playing.”

You let go of his grip and turned to see him, aware of the pool already forming between your legs.

“Wasn’t it clear from the beginning? I don't like your little game.” You took a step back, trying to put some distance to avoid doing something stupid.

“Same thing. What about we leave everything for good if…”

“If…?” You were willing to do anything to keep that walking temptation away.

He moved closer, cornering you against the door, hands against the wood on each side of your head. His breath hitting your face as his eyes descended to your lips.

Logan tainted you, brushing your nose with his, making the slightest contact of his lips with the corner of yours, having you closing your eyes, waiting for the moment he'd kiss you, but said moment didn't come.

Instead, he separated from you and said, “If you sincerely apologize to me.” He smiled as he only knew.

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets from the impression of his request. He sounded like a broken record.

“I already apologized to you for what happened. Twice!” Your ears were red with anger. There was no way you would ask for his forgiveness again.

“You look hotter when you're angry.”

The color left your ears to locate in your cheeks. What did he say? That you looked hotter, not just hot?

Your brain worked a thousand an hour; It didn't take you long to understand his comment, but you didn't know what to say. Your whole lexicon, stuck in your throat.

“I-I” You couldn't get to say anything more when he stamped his lips with yours.

His fingers dug in your hair, pressing you to stay close so he could keep sucking at your lips. When his other hand traveled down your back and located under your skirt to take possession of your ass, you were a goner.

You parted your lips, letting Logan's tongue in, which you brushed with your own in a steamy fight for dominance.

Breathing didn't seem to be an impediment for either of you, but the second you pulled at Logan's hair and you heard him groan, he ended the kiss and stepped back.

“You've no idea of what you just did.” He ripped his flannel open, buttons clacking on the wooden floor as he threw the ruined piece of cloth aside.

“Maybe I do.” You said as you reached for the zipper of your dress, lowering with the teasingly slow sound of it being opened. When it finally pooled at your ankles, you felt really proud of the reaction to your cute lingerie the man in front of you had.

Logan bit his lip, imagining how it would be to lick your every inch, to have you trembling underneath his touch when his tongue, buried in your sweet pussy, made you cum again and again.

Stepping out of the dress, you kicked it to the front, almost hitting Logan with the soft material.

You giggled as he catched it in the air, only to send it on top of his unwanted flannel.

“Thought you didn't like this game.” He took off his boots, sending them flying across the room.

“A girl can change her mind.” You said, shortening the distance between you two to run your hands in his firm chest. “Can't she?”

“Yes, she can.” And just like that, he lifted you up your feet and tossed you to the center of your bed. “'Course she can.”

He settled between your legs, face so close to yours that his breath fanned over your lips.

You were impatient, your eyes, trying to catch his own to beg him to do something, but his gaze was fixated somewhere else. Your breast, hugged and trapped in that cute little bra of yours. He saw them rising up and going down with your desperation, too immersed in the thought of taking them in his mouth. It took him by surprise when you dug your nails in his shoulders and dragged them down, drawing eight perfect red lines that were quick to disappear but worked to get his attention back.

“A picture would last longer.” You teased, making him look at your face again.

His hands wandered along your sides and over the fabric. “Too bad I don't have my camera with me.”

SWISH

“What the hell?!” The exclamation came louder than you intended. Not in fear but astonishment.

The adamantium came out of his knuckles, and as he managed to cut clean both bands without touching your skin, you wondered how many times had he done that trick before.

The metal was sharp and cold. Logan ran both claws over your heated flesh, settling them under the straps that had no use anymore and you felt your core throbbing, a new wave of arousal pooling between your legs. “As much as I am enjoying this view,” Two soft snaps followed his pause, and you felt your ruined bra giving in. “I can't wait to taste what's underneath.”

At what point did he retract the claws, you didn't know, but the second he uncovered your tits to take one in his mouth and stimulate the other with his rough fingers, you figured you didn't care.

His tongue would swirl around your nipple, sucking on the hardened bud and torturously grazing his teeth over it. The wet sounds of his lips as he left a path of kisses to your other boob to treat it the same way, filling the air along with the uncontrollable moans that you produced.

While Logan happily feasted, you did your best to rock your hips up, wanting to have some sort of friction to ease your need for him. And he, as the jerk he was, pressed further into you, letting you feel his hard on over the thick material of his jeans.

“Damn it, Logan.” Your fingers found his scalp, his grunt when you yanked at his hair, impacting directly in your clit. “Just fuck me already.”

His assault to your breast stopped immediately, hands and mouth ungluing from your body almost instinctively as you both understood what had happened.

“Shit. I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean…”

Logan stood up and you froze.

There you were, half naked, pathetically drenching the sheets under you and waiting to see the Wolverine's mad reaction to your unintentional order.

But before you could start justifying yourself, Logan was unfastening his jeans and stepping out of his underwear, revealing his erect, bouncing length already leaking precum.

In a swift motion, Logan tore your panties, no need to use the claws to get rid of them. His bare hands were enough to make them useless shreds that wouldn't even work as a rag.

“You know,” He said as he made his way on top of you again, caressing your thigh as his tip came in contact with your glistening pussy. “I didn't want you to apologize for making your way inside my head.” He ran his shaft along your lips, coating himself with your arousal and enjoying the little meowls you let out. “I wanted you to do it, for not leaving it.”

And with an energetic, determined thrust he pushed inside. Your toes curled and your back arched, brushing your sensitive nipples against his chest.

He settled a slow rhythm at first, giving you time to adjust to the new intruder.

After a few thrusts, you were ready for him to go faster, moaning softly every time you felt his veins brushing over your walls. But instead of telling him to increase the pace, you bit your tongue and covered your mouth with your palm, not wanting him to think you were taking advantage of your powers in that particular situation.

But Logan did not like that.

He wanted you to be loud, to let him know how much you were enjoying the moment, so he did the first thing that crossed his mind: he took your hands in his and intertwined his fingers with yours, setting them on each side of your head.

Biting your lip, Logan drank your every moan. “You want me to go faster?” He pointed out each word with a thrust. “Want me to ruin this pretty, little pussy?”

“Yes, yes!” You finally gave in. “I want you to ruin my pussy.”

“Say no more.”

His hips snapped with more force this time, kicking the air out of your lungs and any thought of inhibition out of your head.

Logan hammered fast, loving the cries slipping out of you. Your legs hugged his hips, locking him to your body.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He buried his face in the curve of your shoulder. “You're so tight around my cook. Taking me so well.” Praises rained on you, an inevitable sense of pride invading your soul. “This pussy is mine now” One of his hands let go of yours, tapping its way down to your clit, which he circled diligently. “You hear that?”

“Oh, God!” You whimpered, hips jolting to meet Logan's thrusts and fingers.

You were a mess, hair tangled, lips parted, and body jerking in a desperate attempt to reach your orgasm.

The back of your head was buried in the pillow, your tits in perfect display as Logan sneaked his hand to your lower back to bring you up with him.

Sitting on the bed, Logan helped you ride his cock, palm going up and down your spine with each roll of your hips, sending goosebumps from your head to toe.

At some point, you felt Logan's hands settling in your ass, only for them to abruptly smack it. You let out a surprised wail, but did nothing to stop him from doing it again. “You like this?” He asked as his big palm repeated the action. “Knew you did.” Logan caressed the slowly redden spot delicately as his lips found your jaw, leaving a quick, almost imperceptible kiss there. “Knew you always did.”

A tormenting set of smacks followed his words, having your walls squeezing him hard each time his hand landed on your sensitive skin, making you throw your head back.

The sounds leaving your mouth were almost inhuman, the hoarse screams of ecstasy, mixing with the wet symphony your bodies created with each encounter.

“Tell me what you want, sweet thing. You wanna cum?” His words fell on your shoulder, the ragged tone of his voice, making you clench down again.

“Let me cum, please!” You did not care if the people next to your room heard you, not even if Charles was aware of what was happening. You needed your release. “Let me cum!”

But as much as Logan was loving listening to you begging, that was not what he had in mind.

“Nuh, you know how to.”

He was face to face with you now, waiting for it to hit you.

And he didn't have to wait long.

“Make me cum.” There was no pause this time. Logan's strong grip didn't falter when he snapped his hips up to meet you in the middle, making the bed shake, having the headboard hitting the wall repeatedly. “Yes, yes, make me cum!” You repeated as a mantra. Logan's tip, hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

Logan grunted when he felt your walls clamping around his cock. Your imminent orgasm, approaching fast.

“Cum for me, baby.” His words, combined with one last smack, were all you needed to reach your high.

The coil snapped and the word disappeared behind the hundred sensations invading you, behind the feeling of Logan's fingers digging in your soft flesh as he grew closer to his own release.

Your hands went for his hair again, yanking at it, unleashing an animalistic growl that was followed by Logan's spent painting your walls.

You felt strangely empty when he pulled out to lay you in the bed. His big body, joining you seconds after.

“We should make this a habit.” He said out of breath, locking an arm possessively on your waist to drag you closer to him. “See what other things you can make with those powers.”

“As long as you don't want to try them with an audience again, I'm in.”

“It's not my fault you look delicious with everything you wear.” He said in your ear, his raspy tone awakening that lustful fire within you once again.

“You'll have to behave, or I'll make you.”

Chris's ragged groans filled the air, making it thicker; heavier; hotter.

You left your purse and key by the door, careful not to make a noise and took your shoes off.

A thin wall divided the bed and closet from the rest of the room, and the more you got closer to it, the louder Chris's sounds were.

And they were intoxicating.

It was no secret that you wanted him, flirting with him on set and during reunions. He never accepted any of your innuendos arguing that he was too old for you, but by the way he said that, you knew that he meant you were too young for him. Of course, that never stopped him from occasionally flirting back or complimenting you on your looks or acting skills.

But since it never went beyond that, you were rather surprised– no, amazed to see him naked, with his legs sprayed on your bed with a good amount of your underwear around him and his hand pumping his big, hard cock up and down with– with your favorite panties laced between his fingers.

“Fuck.” Chris moaned, the muscles of his arm shifting as he kept working, his head falling back in pleasure. “Yes, baby girl, choke on my cock.” He squeezed, and if it wasn't clear enough that he was thinking about you while jerking off, you felt your legs getting weak and your heart skipping a beat the second he said your name.

His muscular legs tensed and his hips jolted, an indicator that his release was close, and even though you wanted to see how he looked when he came, the idea of a closer view seemed better.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” The steadiness of your voice surprised you, but not as much as it surprised Chris as you walked out of your hiding position. Jumping from his spot, he reached for a pillow to cover his hard on, but to no use, there was no way on earth you'd ever forget what you saw.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Chris ran a hand through his hair, his breath was uneasy, and his body glowed with a thin layer of sweat.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Tilting your head, you drank in the sight before you; broad shoulders, bare abdomen, the hand over the pillow still gripping on the teal cloth… “But it's pretty clear.” A devilish smile appeared on your lips, your ego all over the roof since you confirmed he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him, even if he denied it in the past.

“I can explain.” He moved back, almost hitting the headboard as you made your way to the edge of the bed, blocking completely his discarded clothes from his reach.

But as much as you'd like to amuse yourself hearing some poor excuse that you wouldn't believe, you simply reached for the pillow and yanked it away from Chris, taking advantage of his still fresh shock, exposing him in all his splendor.

“What about you show me instead?” Kneeling in front him and never breaking eye contact, your hand searched his shaft and resumed the task he left unfinished. “How would you make me choke on your cock?” You kissed his red tip and he swore, his cock twitching in your palm.

“We shouldn't…”

Your fingers ran along his shaft delicately, your thump smearing the precum leaking. “Why not? It can be stimulating.” Your other hand roamed around his thigh, your lips leaving feather-like kisses on his abdomen.

Chris didn't dare to move. He couldn't. Not with you, looking at him through your lashes and so close to his cock.

“Cause you need to find a guy your age.” He barely whispered. “Live these kinda things with him.”

“They don't know how to treat me.” A teasing touch of your lips to his tip had him hissing. “Plus, I like 'em a bit older.”

“But–” His complaint got caught on his throat as you enveloped as much of him as you could in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks. “Holly shit. Just like that.” He said when your tongue drew a line in one of the veins of his length. Your panties, forgotten somewhere in the bed.

“Mhmm?” Like that? was the real question, the vibrations of your throat had Chris gripping in the bed sheets with force. You licked again.

“Yes, love, suck it whole.” Even if Chris wanted to throw back his head, he didn't. He wanted to see how pretty you looked, giving him the blow job of his life.

Did he like you? Of course he did. That was the reason you found him in that embarrassing situation in the first place.

Ever since the first time he saw you the only thing he wanted to do was bury himself in your sweet pussy and never leave, have you trembling and begging him to cum, but he knew better, knew that could never happen. Not with the age difference, not with the public eye watching your every move. He couldn't do that to you.

He tried to keep his distance, downplaying your flirty comments and taking dozens of cold showers only to stop fantasizing about you.

Chris also knew that you would be out that day, knew all he had to do was tell the lady in the hallway that he left his key inside and she'll be nice enough to let him in. He couldn't contain any more after seeing you the night before in your hot pink bikini during the improvised party the cast held by the pool of the hotel.

So he got in your room. And truth to be told, it wasn't his fault that you left your underwear drawer open, it also wasn't his fault that he imagined you modeling all that lace and silk only to him, and it certainly wasn't his fault that you looked even better with your mouth full of his cock than he imagined.

You bobbed your head up and down, moaning every time his tip hit the back of your throat, your hand stroking the rest or him you couldn't fit.

When your fingers brushed his balls, Chris lost it.

The hand that had been gripping the sheets was now in the back of your head, fingertips digging in your skull and forcing your head down his cock. You gagged, the unexpected action, not giving you time to even adjust to the change of rhythm.

“Fucking hell.” Chris took a handful of your hair in a makeshift ponytail and started directing your pace, both the pulling in your roots and the burning feeling of him so down your throat had your eyes watering, but you didn't care. Not when he looked so high on ecstasy and all because of you. “You're a dream come true”

He wasn't expecting a response, not a verbal one at least, so you ran your tongue over his hardness again, and again with every push of his hand.

Tears adorned your flushed cheeks, saliva gathered in the corners of your mouth and you did your best to breath through your nose as Chris stilled your head and moved his hips forward, starting fucking your face.

You shut your eyes closed, concentrating on relaxing your throat and ignoring the slight sting on the back of your head.

He stopped.

“No, baby. Eyes on me.” Chris yanked your hair, making you lock gazes with him again. “You wanted me to show you? This is how I make you choke on my cock.” He brought you down again, your nose brushing his skin with each thrust, your clit throbbing with every groan he let out. “You look so damn good like this.” Your lust and desire must have been written all over your face by the time he said, “Bet you're so fucking wet you're drenching those little panties of yours.” And you knew he was right. “Can't wait to fuck your pretty cunt and cum so deep inside you, you're gonna feel me for days.”

You clenched around nothing, the idea of Chris railing you senseless had you moaning again, desperation for making that scenario a reality glowing in your pupils.

“Oh, I will.” He confirmed, breathing hard as you placed your hands on his thighs for support. “But first, you're gonna be a good girl and take everything I give. Think you can do that for me?” His movements were slow, no doubt to have the most part of your attention in his words.

A tap on his thigh was enough confirmation for Chris to resume his thrusting, your heart hammering against your chest with the intensity of his movements.

You felt him twitch at least, his assault faltering and his grip on your hair tightening. He was close again, and you'd help him reach his release this time.

So you sucked harder, trying to milk the life out of him while your palms massaged his thighs.

Chris cursed, head thrown back, hips going still, and his whole body tensing up as you felt ropes of his hot spent painting the inside of your throat and the weight of his softening cock on your tongue.

Obeying, you swallowed every drop, freed him with a soft pop and licked your lips in the most sensual way Chris had ever seen.

When Chris came down from his high, he took notice of your state; hair tangled, glassy eyes, swollen lips, chest heaving. He felt himself getting hard again.

“Am I still too young for you?” Your voice was hoarse, no doubt due to the recent activities.

“I don't know.” He said, helping you on your feet and out of your sundress. “We can keep figuring it out.” He smirked, lowering your ruined underwear until it pooled at your feet.

You straddled him, ready to take on the promise he made minutes ago. “I'm in no rush.”

The change of temperature was evident as soon as you crossed the door and you took off your coat. The house was packed, all the usual guests to those reunions in expensive clothes wandering around with a drink in hand and some business conversation going on.

“Richard Drysdale is here.” Said your mom, as she kept walking, taking for granted that you'd be following up close. “And I'm glad to say that he brought his son with him. I've been meaning to get you two to know each other for the long--.”

“Mom,” You interrupted her middle sentence. “This is my boyfriend, Andy.”

And he, as the gentleman he was, stretched out his hand to shake your mom's, who looked at him as if she had just realized there was someone standing next to you.

“Oh no. What happened to the doctor?” She completely ignored Andy's gesture and turned with accusatory eyes to you.

“What doctor?” You asked, as confused as she seemed… upset.

“The doctor, remember?” She gestured with her hands as she spoke, like trying to describe the man's appearance in the air. “The neurosurgeon you met at the coffee place and took you to that fancy restaurant on your first date.”

You didn't know what to think, you didn't know what she was talking about, and most of all, you didn't know how you were going to get through the night without losing your mind.

So, you sighed and calmly said, “Mom, there was never a doctor. Before Andy I didn't have a date for like a year and a half.”

Her eyes squinted for a second, realizing that everything she just stated must have been a product of her imagination.

“Well, you don't expect me to tell people that, do you?” She exclaimed, locking a loose lock of hair behind your ear diligently.

Andy could tell how uncomfortable you were, just as anyone that were to join your little chatting group would, so he decided to interfere to get your mother's attention from you.

“Thank you, Mrs Y/L/N, for extending the invitation to me, it's good to finally meet you.” Your mother looked at him again, as if she had forgotten he was there. “We brought a little something for you.” Andy handed her the bottle, which she accepted and quickly eyed.

“Of course, any friend of Y/N's is welcome here.” She turned around in the direction of the kitchen, putting an end to the convention.

You exhaled, relaxing your muscles and turning to Andy who seemed to be having the time of his life with that amused smirk on his face.

“See? It wasn't that bad.”

“Just wait and see.” He side-hugged you and directed you to one of the couches so you could recharge and get ready for the actual nightmare.

You loved your parents, Lord knows you did, but if there was something you hated about them was how impertinent they were and how it was reflected in everything they did and said.

Introducing Andy to your dad didn't go any better. And the fact that he paid no attention to your mom's discomforts about your love life didn't matter, meaning that he wouldn't make it easy for your boyfriend either.

“So, tell me, Andrew.” Your dad, with a glass of bourbon and crossed legs said. “What are your thoughts on starting a family?”

Your eyes opened at a maximum at his indiscretion. “Dad!” You shook your head, asking him not to insist on the topic.

“What? I want to know if he's willing to have children.”

“In fact, I do have a son. His name's Jacob and he's my adoration.”

Your dad turned to you with the same looks your mom had when you arrived. “He has a son.” He said accusatory, as if it was your fault.

“Yes, I know him and he's a good kid. We get along pretty well.”

Your dad nodded and took a gulp of his drink. “I believe growing up without a mother should be difficult for him.” And to that, you wanted the floor to swallow you and throw you in front of a moving truck.

“Actually, we share custody, so he has us both.”

The uhm from your dad was followed by him standing up to go refill his glass. A clear sign that he didn't want to be a part of that conversation any longer.

“I'm really sorry. You see now why I didn't want to come?”

The smile he dedicated to you was sweet and comforting, and the way his hands warmed up yours were everything you needed to feel less awful about your parents' behavior.

“If I can put up with an impassive judge and a whole jury, I can deal with your parents, sweetheart. Don't worry.” You knew he meant it, as well as you knew he wouldn't take anything they were to say personally.

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

He faked thinking. “Not since this morning.”

“Well, I love you.” You gave him a quick peck before letting go of his hands. “I need to go to the bathroom. Are you going to be okay?”

“Okay is my second name.”

“Stephen is your second name.” You said with a chuckle and then made your way up the stairs to a bathroom that was surely not occupied.

Despite the fact that you hadn't lived in that house for the longest time, the bathroom connected to the room that used to be yours had toilet paper, clean towels and everything a bathroom was supposed to have.

You had just gotten out when a hand covered your mouth to keep you from leaving a loud exclamation.

“Shhh, it's me.” It was Andy's voice and you relaxed at it, letting him know that you wouldn't scream.

“What are you doing here?”

He moved his shoulders in a carefree manner and simply said, “I met that Drysdale guy, wanted to give you my opinion on him.” His hands were quick to go and caress your waist, his fingers playing with the elastic of your skirt.

“Yeah?” Your nails scratched the back of his head slightly, making him close his eyes. “Should I date him, then? Is he as charming as my mom thinks he is?”

As easy as if you weighed nothing, he lifted you up, hands in the back of your thighs, wrinkling your skirt just above your butt.

“He's a jackass. But I know someone better.”

With delicacy, he sat you on the nightstand next to the bed and leaned down to give you a breathtaking kiss. It was sweet and hot, devotional and passionate. It had your whimpering in seconds.

“And who would that be?” You asked as soon as the kiss was over due to the lack of oxygen.

Your answer came when Andy fell to his knees in front of you and opened your legs with his big hands, giving him a full view of your damped panties.

Running a finger over the wet patch, he said, “I think you know who.”

He dragged down your underwear and put it in his pocket. His digit went back to your center, collecting your honey and scattering it all over your pussy, purposely avoiding your clit over and over until your hips jolted, desperate to feel more of him.

“Please, Andy. I need you.”

His fingertip teased your entrance, knowing how your walls were clenched around nothing and he smirked, watching how your head flew back and how your chest heaved with every breath you took.

“What do you need, sweetheart? You gotta be more specific.” He pushed his finger just the slightest, only fueling the fire inside of your belly.

“I need you to fuck me.” The plea came out as a moan, and you couldn't care less about your whines as you felt his other hand exposing your clit and his breathing blowing over it. “With your hand, with, with your tongue, just… just fuck me, please.”

“As you wish, princess.”

And his finger was fully inside in a quick motion of his wrist as his lips closed over your pearl, sucking and drawing patterns with his tongue.

“O-oh, God.” The words left you when you felt Andy adding a second finger.

He'd scissor and curl them, dragging the most delicious sounds Andy had ever heard. You tried to keep it quiet, aware that there were more people in the house, but you couldn't help it, every sensation in your body, every moan falling from your lips, they were inevitable.

One of your hands held strongly at the headboard next to you while the other gripped at Andy's hair, keeping him close to your core, which he gladly kept working on as if it was his last meal. Your legs rested on each side of Andy's head, talons digging harshly against his back, but he didn't seem to notice, as well as you didn't mind the burning of his beard in the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

Andy's tongue and fingers exchanged places, now his rough, soaked fingertips drawing fast circles in your clit as his tongue entered you repeatedly. The feeling of his hot muscle inside of you, making your back arch in pleasure.

When you looked down at him, you met his eyes, lust-blown pupils overtaking the beautiful blue of his irises and a mischievous spark that you saw clearly, even in your current state.

Scream, let them know just how good I am for you. His eyes seemed to say. How I make you lose control like nobody could.

You shook your head, eyes closing as you felt the knot in your stomach tightening and the way your breath hitched, announcing your imminent orgasm.

To that negative, Andy made it his purpose to make you cum hard and loud. Lips slurping and fingers moving relentlessly and you broke down like a glass being hit by a rock. Your hand flew to your lips to muffle the loudest moan of your life, walls clenching and your whole body spasming with the intensity of your release.

Andy left a loving kiss over your swollen clit and stood up to go to the bathroom.

After a minute or two, which you took as an opportunity to start breathing normally again, he came back, face clean of your juices and a wet towel in hand.

He cleaned you up delicately and tossed the towel aside to help you up the nightstand.

“We should go back, dinner's about to be served.” Andy said as he fixed your skirt in place. Your legs felt like jello and the heels were no help.

“Can't we just leave now?” As soon as you felt strong enough to walk by yourself, you let go of Andy's arm and made your way to the door with him behind you. “I'm sure they won't miss us.”

Halloween night; when kids had fun trick and treating, the perfect occasion for a horror movies marathon, the time of the year every single place smelled like pumpkin spice lattes. Everything was orange, cozy and great.

That until the team decided to go to the –according to everyone in New York– greatest haunted house in Manhattan.

The line seemed endless when you first arrived, which gave you time to gather courage, the same courage that faded little by little as the group grew closer to the entrance.

“Let me get this straight, you've fought terrorists, evil robots, literal aliens and you're scared of a haunted house?” Tony asked in that irritating tone that characterized him when he was being ironic. “Does that make sense to any of you?”

Cold air pierced through your thin sweater and you cursed yourself for not listening to Steve when he suggested you wore something warmer instead of your fall aesthetic outfit, which did little to protect you from the weather.

“It's a trauma of my childhood!” You debated defensively. “My friends thought it'd be funny to leave me with the werewolves all by myself until I started crying and a crew member took me out and called my parents.”

You were sure Tony was having the time of his life listening to your tragic story, probably elaborating from five to ten jokes about it already.

“Want me to remind you of your reaction to that mouse in the lab?” Asked Steve as he hugged you from behind. Captain America to the rescue!

The group in front of you was told to enter, meaning you and your friends were next. You inhaled deeply, preparing yourself mentally for what was coming.

“It was Bruce.” Tony said with gritted teeth before interrupting Nat, who was telling the anecdote to Bucky.

“Don't worry,” You heard Steve's sweet voice in your ear and felt his hands in your arms, warming there, where he touched you. “I'll be with you all the time.”

“That helps a lot.” It was not your intention to sound sarcastic, but since the lady dressed as a witch had given the green light for the next group (yours) to enter, you couldn't stop yourself.

Steve's only answer was to chuckle and guide you inside.

The first thing you saw was a long hallway, fake blood splatters on the walls and some intermittent lights that barely illuminated the place. The group moved forward, the sound of shoes stepping on cracking wood filling the air.

At the end of the hallway were two tunnels, a red light came from one while the other kept that abandoned hospital vibe with the white light bulbs every few steps. Tony and Clint, who led the group, opted to go left, to the red lights, where, as you walked closer, a sinister laugh could be heard rumbling in the room.

Piles of hay led you to a circus setup; an unicycle lay next to a wall with one pedal still moving lazily. Once you were in the middle of the room, some juggler tools rolled from a corner in your direction.

You hadn't released that your grip on Steve's arm was so strong until you almost tripped with your own foot and he stopped you from meeting the floor.

“Sorry.” You mouthed, letting go of his arm and locking your hands in the pockets of your sweater.

Right ahead was a rusty movable lion cage with a broken wheel and you wished it was empty, but you thought too early.

CLANG!

A clown with handcuffs attached to the wooden floor of the cage slapped the bars as he laughed frantically.

“Fuck!” The word left your lips before you could stop it. One of your hands flew to your mouth while the other slightly slapped your forehead as you shook your head. The collective low laugh didn't take long in coming. “Yeah, yeah, let's continue, shall we?”

A couple more clowns and a trapezist scared not only you, but also Clint, who then understood it wasn't funny when he was the target of the mockery.

Walking behind Nat through a door with a KEEP OUT, RADIOACTIVE WASTE painted with spray, you didn't notice Steve wasn't following anymore.

The dim light of the room was of an unnatural green, fog emanated from behind silver containers, a scientist or maybe a doctor poorly moved on the floor to the door you had entered, like trying to escape from something.

Soon you found out what he was escaping from.

All covered in a yellowish substance, a black creature with big claws and spider legs attached to its back appeared out of nowhere, making you swear again as it hissed at you in a threatening way, and then proceeded to drag the man in a lab coat by the feet.

With your heart beating in your ears, you admitted to yourself that their makeup artist asserted their payment.

A small space with a neon lab exit sign was the next thing you crossed. The illumination in that room was better than the previous ones, much so that you had to squint your eyes to adapt to the sudden clarity.

It was not that the room had hundreds of bulbs like it seemed, it only gave the illusion of it, as well as there were not hundreds of you's gathered together.

“Has my hair looked like this this whole time?” Tony asked, trying to fix his hair in front of one of the multiple mirrors in front of you all.

“Though you liked it that way.” You heard Nat saying as she made her way inside the maze, followed by Clint and Bucky, who found her comment hilarious.

Tony's comeback made its presence before he entered as well, leaving you behind.

“This must be my favorite room so far.” It was meant to be directed to Steve, but when you turned, hoping to see him behind you, you didn't find him. “Steve?” Stepping into the maze, you called for your boyfriend again. “This isn't funny, Rogers!” You had separated from the group, walking aimlessly looking for either the missing Avenger or an end to that dizzying labyrinth.

You spoke too soon when you said it was your favorite room.

Keep turning left until you find the exit. The rational part of you said, knowing it could take you a while but in the end you'd get out of there.

Five successful turns and five wrongs later, you had the feeling that you were close to another room's door so you kept walking.

Coming out from a dead end, a hand gripped your arm from behind while another covered your mouth muffling your scream of surprise.

“Shhh, it's me.” The familiar voice murmured in your ear, relaxing you instantly.

“Where were you?” Your acustory question came with a soft slap to his chest which did nothing more than amuse him.

“I found a themed room I think you’ll like.”

Steve took your hand in his and dragged you through the maze rapidly, not once crashing against a mirror or questioning his next turn.

“I doubt that.”

As you approached an apparently dead end, you thought Steve would turn around and resume his way out, but he surprised you when, with his free hand, he moved a mirror, opening it as if it was a door. “After you.”

The room was quiet, dark and apparently empty. It was only illuminated by the little light that peeked from under the hidden door.

“I swear to God, Steve, that if they're werewolves in here I'm going to kill you.”

He didn't answer. At least, not in a way you expected him to. The sudden feel of his hands in your arms startled you slightly.

“There are no werewolves,” His fingers moved your hair out of the way so he could brush his nose all the way up your earlobe from your neck. “No vampires, no zombies. Just you and me.”

His hot breath sent shivers down your spine. His closeness, his firm chest pressed against your back, his heart beats and growing erection hinting what was going on in his head.

“We can't do it here, Steve.” You whispered, closing your eyes at the feeling of his fingers under your skirt slipping down your surprisingly damped underwear until it fell to your talons.

“Why not?” One of his digits found your clit and started rubbing it unhurriedly. “You want to go back to those jump scares? Don't you prefer staying here with me?”

Yes. You wanted to stay in that room with him, you wanted him to keep stimulating you the way he was doing, but you couldn't help wondering “What if we get caught?”

You didn't have to guess what Steve was doing with his other hand, having listened to him (and helped him) unzipping his jeans many times before, you knew that was exactly what was happening.

“Isn't that the idea of this whole place?” Pushing your leg with his knee, he indicated to you to step out of the now useless underwear. “To take people off guard?”

Steve easily turned you to face him, hands carrying you as if you weighed nothing, making you lock your legs around his waist and taking the few steps it took for your back to be against the wall.

But not this way, you wanted to tell him, but as you opened your mouth to say it, you felt him entering your channel all the way in.

Your wail was loud, and the reduced space didn't help in making it less audible. The sound rebounded in the four walls even before you could cover your mouth with your palm.

That, Steve did not like. He captured both your wrists in one big hand above your head while the other was still in the back of your thigh.

“Don't be quiet now.” His words were followed by his hips rocking back and forth, finally giving you the friction you carved. “Won't be the first one to scream in this place.”

And as if he was making it his goal to make you scream, he accelerated the pace, the slapping of skin on skin contact filling your ears as well as Steve's grunts and your own uncontrollable moans.

His face was hidden in the space of your neck, lips scattering kisses and breathing agitatedly against your warm flesh.

Your eyes were closed, all the overwhelming sensations Steve was responsible for and the idea of someone walking on you having sex had you clenching down on Steve's cock.

“Fuck, baby, you're taking me so well.” Once again, his finger drew small circles on your bud. That, mixed with his words, made you whine. “But I want to see how much you can take.”

And he snapped back his hips, almost emptying you, only to thrusts back in with force once, twice, three times, each dragging a sinful groan from you.

You were lost in ecstasy. His hardness coated in your slick slipping in with ease and a wet sound, the way his tip hit that special spot inside of you repeatedly, the fact that you had neither the chance nor the intention of silencing your moans, it all had you drunk in the moment, unconcerned about whether you were caught or not.

“That's it, pretty girl, let them know how good I make you feel.” He then analyzed his words, chuckling at them. “Though they'd probably never know that's the reason.”

And he wasn't exaggerating. Maybe it was the material the haunt was made of, maybe it was just the way your body responded to Steve's, maybe it was both, but you were sure the echo of your ragged sounds were heard in the whole house.

Your fingers tickled with the poor blood flow and the knot in your stomach formed quickly, announcing your release.

Your walls tightened alerting Steve about your approaching and he somehow accelerated his already ruthless pounding, making you see stars.

“Let me watch you fall apart. Cum for me, squeeze my cock dry.” The order, along with the low tone he used, sent you over the edge.

“Fuuuuck!”

Your orgasm hit you hard, ripping the most sinful sound you'd ever emitted, making you clamp down on Steve's length, that was still buried deep inside of you.

It didn't take long for Steve to follow, thick ropes of cum coated your pussy as he slowed down his movements until stopping definitely.

When Steve let go of your wrists, you let them fall to his shoulders, not finding the strength to do anything else with them.

“You were right.” Out of breath, you admitted. His unspoken question, reflected in the confusion of his face. “I liked this room.”

Carefully, he helped you on your feet again, making sure your trembling legs wouldn't make you fall.

His smile of sufficiency and the pride sparking in his eyes only made you wish he hadn't bent to pick up your underwear and instead fuck you again and again until the fake wall you'd be pressed to gave in.

But before you could put your thoughts into words, he spoke, “Let's get out of here, the rest should be waiting for us.”

Shoving your panties in his pocket, he opened the mirror-door and guided you to the nearest emergency exit.

“It wasn't so bad, was it, Y/N?” Bucky asked, affectionately palming your shoulder when you finally reunited with the rest of the group, who were ready to go home.

“No, it wasn't.” Sending a complicit look at Steve, you said. “We should do it again.”

And to that, Clint asked, “You really liked it? I now understand why everyone said this haunt was terrifying.”

Your eyes went from your boyfriend to him and then to the rest of the Avengers with a question mark written all over your face. Yes, it had been scary, but not terrifying.

“Yeah, didn't you hear those screams near the mirror maze?” Nat asked as she exaggerated a shiver. “They were so real.”

You bit your tongue so you wouldn't laugh, hiding your flushed face behind the veil your hair created.

“Yup.” Agreed Clint. “Sounded like someone was getting killed.”

“Maybe that was the case.” Steve's comment was accompanied by his arm bringing you closer to him and a smile of complicity.

Multiple laughs, tactical orders and the unmistakable sound of snow hitting people and fences could be heard in the whole neighborhood, you were sure of that.

Your clothes were soaked, cold and sticking to your skin with every movement you made, but you didn't care. You were having fun, mocking yells and smart comebacks slipping from your lips with the same ease your shoes slipped in the snow.

“Surrender while you still can!” Forming a ball with your numb, frozen fingers, you suggested your rivals. “Cause we won't be merciful!”

You could see one of them hidden behind a plastic snowman, his position was perfect,even for your terrible aim. There was no way you could miss…

SHIN

The ball was thrown only to be followed by a collective gasp that froze you more than the snow under your knees.

Andy was standing in the middle of the staircase, hands fixing his scarf, coat semi-open, and white little dots all over his beard and a part of his hair.

Everyone stood still for a couple of seconds, waiting for the man's reaction. Would he get mad? Would he join the game? There was only one way to find out.

“I'm sorry, honey.” You came out of hiding with an apologetic look. “It wasn't meant for you.” You said with a nervous laugh.

His hand removed the snow from his face before turning to you, wearing a comprehensive smile.

“Don't worry, darling. I bet it wasn't.” He pointed to the car. “Ready to go?”

Despite your soaked appearance, you nodded, said your goodbyes to Jacob and his friends and turned to make your way to the car. The towel you kept in the truck would do…

SHIN

A shiver ran down your spine when a wet ball hit you right in the back of your head, the cold water falling through your hair and peeking to your neck.

You turned slowly, feeling like the main character of a movie, licking your lips, ready to face whoever had thrown the snowball.

And, like out of a movie, everyone in the battlefield pointed at Andy who had his hands in his pockets, his head tilted and a not so innocent smile adorning his features.

“You did not.” Disbelief fell off your lips, the excitement of the battle bubbling in your belly again.

“I did.” A teasing ooooooh from the group followed. “What're you gonna do about it?”

You checked your watch, there was still plenty of time .“This means war, Barber.” You threatened.

Opening his arms, he said, “Bring it on, Y/L/N.”

“To your posts!" A girl screamed for everyone to run to their hiding spots before fire rained… figuratively.

There were no sides anymore. It was everyone against everyone, there were no points to count or a clear target.

Only when one of Jacob's friends hit by accident an old man passing was when the war was terminated by collective agreement with no resentments and a friendly truce.

By the time you took the remains of snow out of your hair, you were shaking. The temperature of the day stabbing you like a dagger through your clothes.

“What will my mom say when she sees us looking like this?” Rubbing your hands up and down your arms, you asked.

Andy hummed, hugging you close to him to share his warmth with you. “She'll disapprove of every part of it.”

There was always a reunion at the office on Christmas eve. A little party for coworkers to hang and have a pleasant time before heading home to their families and abundant dinners.

It was also tradition to exchange presents as a way to get along with more people and break the routine at least for a night.

“Alright, people!” Sarah, the self-assigned coordinator of the dynamic called, clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. “I hope you all have your gifts ready because the game starts… now.”

And as soon as she said that, everyone was in motion, looking for the person they had to give their present to.

You looked for Mr. Huffman, hands behind your back to hide the bag, even though it wasn't necessary.

“Y/N.” You were a couple of steps away from his office when you heard him, freezing you. Panic running through your veins, realizing now how disappointing your gift could be for a man like Scott Huffman. “I was looking for you.” With a head movement, he asked you to follow him inside the office. From the desk, he took a small white bag with a cute ribbon and handed it to you. “Merry Christmas.”

You took the bag, peeking inside to get a look at whatever it was he got you. “Thank you, Mr. Huffman.”

Smiling at him, you were about to give him his gift, ready to run in the opposite direction, before he spoke, “Aren't you going to open it?” He asked curiously, and to those beautiful blue eyes, you could deny nothing.

“Y-yeah, sure.” Holding your own gift under your arm, you took the red little box out of the bag. Opening it, your eyes went from the content to Scott repeatedly. Your lips were parted, moving and trying to say something coherent, but your brain wasn't working anymore.

“What do you think?” His voice brought you back to reality, finally making you able to speak again.

“It, it's beautiful.” And you were as honest as you were shocked. Inside the box, neatly placed was a silver bracelet with a heart shaped pendant, it sparkled with the reflection of the white lights and if you weren't wrong, it was a real diamond. It was… “This is more than fifty dollars, Mr. Huffman. I can't accept it.”

You tried to return the box to him, but he wasn't accepting it.

“Of course you can!” Scott took the bracelet out of the box to show it to you. “The lady that helped me at the store said that it was the perfect gift for a beautiful woman.” He took advantage of your extended arm to clip the bracelet around your wrist. “But if you don't like it, I can change it for something else.”

As impressed as you were about the gift itself, you overlooked his compliment, certain that he would indeed change it if you asked. As well as you were certain he'd choose something more extravagant and, for instance, more expensive.

“No, no. I love it. It's just…” You feel dumb, knowing what waited in the bag under your arm to be opened.

If you didn't know it was impossible, you could have sworn he heard the sound of gears working inside your brain. Jewelry! There was a jewelry store down the street. It was late but with a little luck they'd still be open and, well, you hoped a watch would do.

“I'm your Secret Santa but I forgot your gift in the car. If you wait just a minute, I'll…” You tried to step back, but stumbled upon a chair, which almost made you fall, if it wasn't because of Scott, who reacted as fast as you closed your eyes, waiting for the impact.

“That's strange.” Only when he was sure you were stabilized was he let go. “I heard you telling Lynn that you had it here, with you.” He pointed to the bag you kept carrying, making it clear that by no chance would you leave the building to get a last minute change.

It was clear why you always lost in hide and seek.

Sighing on defeat, you gave him the bag, explaining why you came up with the idea of it and offering to change it for that watch you had in mind. Scott stared at it for a solid minute, watching the patterns, vibrant colors, and feeling its texture.

A soft smile adorned his face when he said, “I've always wanted one of these.” Scott left the piece of cloth in his chair to take off his jacket.

“Really?” Confusion all over the question.

“Yes,” He put on the ugly sweater with trees and snowmen and reindeer, finding it a bit difficult for it to fit his broad shoulders. "but I never really had a chance or an excuse to wear one.”

Outside, the sky was deep dark, making the large window a perfect mirror.

“It looks good on you.” Having nothing else to say, you decided for honesty. You never thought you'd like an ugly sweater that much.

“You think so?” He has that analytic glint you saw him use so often. “Don't I look…” He thought of the best word to describe it, trying not to offend your present. “unprofessional?”

“Well, I think you need some unprofessionalism in your life.” The words left your lips before you could process them. “I--.”

He turned from the window and made his way, slowly, to you. Only when he was closer than he'd ever been was when you realized you hadn't moved an inch.

The back of his hand brushed delicately your blushing cheek. The warmth in his eyes could melt you even though the air conditioning was on.

“I believe that, too.” His eyes descended to your lips, his face growing closer to yours…

“Everyone get together!” At the sudden sound, you opened your eyes. “It's time to see who won the raffle!”

“We should go.” He said against your lips, minty breath hitting your face. “We can pick this up again when the party's over.”

Turning around, he bumped, quite literally, into a pile of cardboard boxes.

“Oh, shoot!” The same voice said as the boxes went down Lee's sight.

A thud followed by soft clack, clack, clacks where what made the sheriff look down.

Two boxes lay open and practically empty in the middle of the hall next to a pretty woman struggling to stand up with one box still in her grip.

“Are you okay?” Lee's reflexes had always worked quickly, this time included, stabilizing you when you accidentally stepped into an ornament, keeping his hands in your waist as an extra support. Yet, he did not expect that question to be asked to him. Not when you could be the one hurting yourself.

“Yeah, 'm good.” He let go, realizing he was still touching you. “How 'bout you?”

“None of my bones seem broken so, I'm fine.” Looking up from your legs, you locked eyes with Lee, opening them as much as possible when you saw who you were talking to. “Sheriff, I'm sorry, I--I did not see where I was going, and we're short on people this year. I thought I'd have the gym ready before midday but then realized the spheres were not there and so…”

Lee felt the urge of smirking. Your blushed cheeks and sweet babbling, warming him to the core.

“'s fine.” He interrupted. “Actually, 'm here to help so, tell me anything you need and I'll do it.”

The smile of relief you dedicated to Lee was more than enough for him to replace the crabby looks on his face for a more relaxed expression.

“Really? Thank God!” Handing him the box, you fell on your knees and started to hurriedly put the ornaments inside the boxes. “Our Santa called in sick and we haven't found a replacement.”

And when you were up, the grimace was there again. “No, I meant, with paintin' and tape and stuff.”

“Oh.” Lee didn't need to be a genius to know you were disappointed. “Yeah, no, I… I get it. No need to change into that costume, them.” You smiled again, but this time, the gesture didn't reach the happiness the first one did. “Kids don't wanna see a silly elf if there's no Santa.”

He sighed, imagining just how much he'd regret taking that decision. “I'll do it.”

“You will?” The excitement was back in your tone and it just increased when Lee nodded. “Thank you, sheriff!” You left the boxes aside and gave him a hug, or something that resembled a hug, given the box that was still in your way. “Sorry.” You backed off, suddenly aware of how inappropriate your actions were.

“No worries.” Easier than you'd ever be able to, he took the boxes in his other hand, securing them under his arm. “Now, let's take these to the gym and you can show me that silly Santa costume.”

You offered to help him with a box, but he refused, telling you that a gentleman would never let a dame carry heavy, dangerous stuff, alluding to your almost-accident with the sphere.

Lee would never admit it, but playing Santa Claus was not as horrible as he thought it would be. He got to chat with you in between kids asking for comic books or radios or puppies, and he was glad that, apart from having conversation topics, opinions and a great sense of humor, you wanted to keep talking to him after Santa's Village closed.