#sam drake x f!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

durrtydawg · 6 months ago

Text

Look, Don't Touch.

(Sam Drake x F!Reader smut) 3rd person

CW: It's smut, it's sex polleny, and it's got a big, fat, dubcon warning. Also a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, internal conflict, etc etc. For detailed tags, please check out ao3, as funnily enough, I literally cannot add any more text into this post 😛

Masterlist

This is long. Horrendously long. Like... *18,000 words* or so, so I don't want to hear any yapping if you click 'read more' and don't actually want to read. Dare I say, quantity over quality? Sorry to those that wanted this split into parts, but honestly... I couldn't make it work, so here we are. Regardless, I hope someone out there enjoys this!! It's been my baby for a while, and whilst not the best thing I've written, I need to let it go before I, too, become a reprobate by force x

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“In the wake of the Second World War, the elusive Polish alchemist Dariusz Cassimir left behind a legacy shrouded… ooo… in mystery. Hmm. Shrouded is a fun word.”

“Big door. Ominous etchings. Doesn’t get more ‘shrouded in mystery’ than that. This has gotta be it.”

“O-kay… But how do we get in?”

She shrugs, turning back to him with a raised brow. “Oh, I don’t know, Sam, maybe the huge lever right next to said mysterious door?” She purposely targets her flashlight at his face, making her way over to the lever. He swats her with the notes in his hand.

“Okay,” Sam sniffs, striding ahead with a crack of the knuckles after he fixes his own torch to his belt, “‘Cause of the attitude, I get to open it.” He grins sarcastically, making sure to gently nudge her shoulder as he passes, thrusting the papers he was reading from into her hands.

Her eyes roll, but she finds the cockiness endearing- and he knows it.

“Known for his work in chemical weapon and explosives development throughout the Great War, and the start of the Second, Cassimir's true genius lay in the shadows, where he conducted secretive experiments with potions, remedies, and poisons, yada yada… yeah, right.”

She continues reading out from where he left off as Sam checks around the lever for any dodgy set-ups that might send the two of them plummeting into an inescapable pit, falling victim to some sort of horrific creature ready to maul the two of them to death, or perhaps crushed by a flurry of falling boulders, etcetera, etcetera. No death trap is too garish in this line of work.

“Oh. Listen to this. Ahem. Despising intrusion into his work, Cassimir was rumoured to eliminate those who stumbled upon these experiments without permission.” She hums. “So, not only was this guy insane, but he was a murderer too- hey, be careful with that lever, please... I don’t want a repeat of the Tuscan trap door incident.” She sighs, fingernails trepidatiously digging into the straps on her backpack as he braces his hands against the lever.

“Still not over that, huh?” Sam snorts, turning back to her with an arrogance-tinged smirk as she grimaces, folding the paper and stuffing it into her jacket pocket.

“My ankle isn't.”

He scoffs. “Every possible trap we’ve come across today has either rotted itself out of action or has been destroyed by some other poor bastard that got here before us. Besides,” He stamps a boot against the ground to prove his point, “It’s a dense stone floor. I don’t think trap doors are a cause for concern here.”

“Famous last words.” She murmurs as he pulls on the lever, a soft grunt signalling that it takes more effort than initially predicted. “You sure you don't want to find another way in before you start fiddling with- nope? Okay.”

“What’s…the worst…” he pauses, re-positioning himself to give a little more force to the lever, “that could- Ow, Jesus!” He cuts himself off with a hiss of pain as the lever finally gives and he stumbles upright, wincing.

“Aw. Too much strain on your big, strong, man muscles?” She questions teasingly as Sam glares at his hand, flexing his fingers with a frown.

“The damn thing pricked me.”

A sudden deep rumble through the ground prevents her from quipping back as both of their attention is now taken by the stone wall in front of them slowly sliding to the side with a wince-worthy scrape.

“It’s always fascinating how something so archaic can still be so…mobile.” Sam says inquisitively, causing her to snort.

“Talking about you, or the door?”

He offers her no more than an unimpressed glare, lips pursed and eyes heavy-lidded, still scrunching and un-scrunching his hand.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, ya know.” He grumbles, watching a cheeky pout form on her lips.

“Thank you. Anyway, it's probably not that old. Cassimir used this place as his base between the first and second world wars, which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't that long ago. I’m guessing, with all the influence he had-”

“-He spruced up the place. New doors. Lick of paint. Few booby traps for good measure. The usual stuff.” He concludes for her with a slow nod, eyes narrowed at the lever, attention diverting back from the door to his palm.

She snickers.

Her smile deepens into a grin as he bares his teeth in irritation at his tiny little injury.

He grumbles, thumb rubbing small circles on his palm.

She steps forwards, “C’mon, grump. Serves you right for touching things you shouldn't.”

“Well, thank you for exhibiting the utmost care and patience.” He responds, brows knitted together as he continues to scrutinise his hand.

“Don't guilt-trip me.” She turns back and holds onto his wrist gently to inspect the palm of his hand. A little more than a pin-prick sits in the centre; a fresh bead of blood oozing to the surface each time he wipes one away.

She pouts as she examines it, then offers a quick glance to the lever to see…nothing interesting at surface level. She turned to him with a moue. “What is it? A splinter?”

“Don’t think so.” He mutters, wiping the speckles of blood onto his jeans, nose scrunched into an expression of disapproval.

“Well…You’ve gone through far worse. C’mon.”

He hums in amusement at her dismissal of interest before the two of them begin to walk down the newly revealed corridor.

As she disappears off into the distance, Sam takes a glance at his assailant, cringing as he notes a tiny divot in the centre of the smooth, varnished wood of the lever- furthermore, two engraved letters beneath it. ‘I D’.

“The hell does i-d mean?” He mutters, glancing at his hand again and wiping it on his jeans for the second time with an irked grunt. Strange.

“Noooo!” Her voice echoes from around the corner, attracting his attention back to the task at hand. Or… away from hand, rather.

He turns in her direction, approaching from behind as she grumbles at yet another obstacle. She frowns down at a dormant stone pressure plate on the floor.

“Guess old Cassimir really doesn’t want us getting in there, huh?” Sam mutters, making his way beside her as they both look at yet another enormous door blocking them from proceeding any further.

“Yeah. What an asshole.” She turns to Sam, tongue swirling contemplatively around a molar as he looks down at her with narrowed eyes. “Any lever this time? Stupid thing won’t do anything.” A tut from her makes him chuckle, watching her impatiently scuff the toe of her boot against the plate as if it’ll make it do something other than sink into the ground a little.

He shakes his head, hands on his hips as he ponders their next move. After a moment, he pouts.

“You… think you can squeeze through there?” Sam questions, eye-line fixing onto the discoloured stained glass of a small window framed by stone above the door.

Her cheeks puff up as she assesses the window held ajar by some sort of rusted hinge. A slow exhale deflates said cheeks before she shrugs.

“You severely underestimate the size of my ass, but yes. If you can get me up there, I can certainly try to ‘squeeze through’.”

“Hmm.”

He leans back, making a show of inspecting her rear with exaggerated intrigue.

“Oh, y- yeah, you might be right.”

She flashes a middle finger. “He's here all week!”

“You'd love that, huh.”

“Stop flirting for a sec and help me up.” She teases, feeding his ego slightly.

Ready to crack on, Sam crouches a little, a small grin pinned to his face at her quip. He puts his arms out as she takes a few steps back.

"M'lady."

"Alright, Patrick Swayze." She chuckles, diluted sarcasm in her tone. “Watch those hands.”

He scoffs in response, patting his thigh as if to non-verbally tell her to shut up and get on with it.

After a little run up, the pair manage to execute a relatively successful boost manoeuvre, resulting in boots scuffing against the stone wall as she scrambles the remainder of the way up to the window.

“Nobody puts Baby in a fuckin’ corner.” he commends her dexterity from the ground, his continuation of her reference sending a grin creeping onto her face as she pushes the window further open, wriggling her way through the gap.

“Damn right.” She replies, eventually disappearing out of his sight. She slides down the wall, dust and flecks of rubble curling off of the surface as she approaches the ground.

Dusting her gravelly hands off on her leggings and adjusting the torch clipped to her backpack strap, she begins to look around.

“Shit.” is all she can muster.

Sam glances up at the stained glass, thumb rubbing at the sting in his palm, eyes focusing on coloured Latin lettering separated by intricately crafted lead framing.

Firmitudo Intus Aequilibrio

“You okay?” He pushes, his voice muffled from behind the wall, head tilted to the side in thought as he reads the stained glass. The cogs turn, congruous smirk etching its way onto his lips- his knowledge of Latin permits a little smugness, or so he tells himself.

She nods slowly, before realising that Sam can’t actually see her, almost too distracted by her new surroundings to offer a verbal response.

“Y-yeah, I’m all good.” She clears her throat, turning off her torch. “This place just… you ever seen Shrek 2?”

The stone walls, worn and weathered, stand sentinel, bearing witness to the passage of time. They’re tall. Imposing. But there’s a beauty to their eeriness, aided by the soft, colourful glow from the bottles that haven't succumbed to time.

"Sure. Great hangover movie."

Dust particles dance in the air, caught in the soft rays of crisp winter moonlight filtering through thick tree roots that make up the ceiling, casting ethereal streaks around the room.

"Well, picture the shelves in the dinky potion room."

The shelves, carved untidily into the walls, cradle a trove of relics from bygone eras. Flasks, vials, and jars, now cloaked in the patina of age, their contents long untouched- some clearly from medieval times; when the crypt was first used as an underground apothecary, to more contemporary receptacles used by Casimir himself to store whatever insane concoctions he experimented with; early 20th century brand logos indented into glass, less worn and more transparent than others.

"The one that cat gets the potion stuck in?"

"That's the one." She titters. Sam hums in understanding. "Ha. 'That cat'."

The lair’s height is imposing, a testament to the grandeur of Casimir’s forgotten pursuits. Yet, amidst the stone walls, pockets of soft, colourful radiance emanate from a select few frosty flasks perched high on the shelves. These remaining potions, survivors of the relentless march of time, cast speckled, saturated glows of purples, pinks, and blues around the plethora of other vials and tubes that have greyed and muddied over the years.

It’s all quite something.

She steps back, lips parted as she takes in her surroundings, fingers wrapped around the straps of her backpack. Her breath catches as she feels sudden give in the ground beneath her, calming when she realises she’s trodden on another pressure plate, though this time it doesn’t remain unresponsive.

As the door behind her rumbles and begins to grate upwards, she turns as her heart rate spikes in shock. Sam, still standing on the corresponding slab, watches in intrigue as the room she’s in reveals itself to him. He smiles when he sees her, the mechanism suddenly making sense.

Wagging a finger up to the latin-scribed stained glass window, he chuckles knowingly.

“Balance.” He says, winking at her as she tilts her head cluelessly.

“What?” She asks as he saunters into the room, shining his torch around.

“Latin. See, I’m the brains of this whole operation.”

“Hm.” She huffs. “Thought you were the beauty.”

He scoffs in response to her attempt at sarcasm, walking past her to the heart of the room as the door scrapes shut again. “Hey, you said it.” He smirks over his shoulder at her as she shakes her head.

A stone slab serves as what Sam presumes was once Casimir's makeshift desk, worn and weathered and mossy like the walls that surround it. On its surface, an array of flasks and mixing bowls, each bearing the damage of countless failed experiments, sitting in a dusty mosaic of scientific chaos.

“Spooky.” She mutters, crouching to inspect some brittle bird bones sprawled out on the stone surface. Aged twigs and fibres, remnants of ingredients that probably pulsed with life once upon a time, now lie in withered repose, their potency surrendered to decay. Sam huffs.

“Oof. It is stuffy as balls in here.” He mumbles, hands skimming through parchment laid on the surface.

The room's cold dampness has left its mark on scrawled notes and papers, ink faded, edges curled, bearing witness to the crypt’s neglect.

“Cold as balls.” she contradicts with a punctuating shiver.

Sam gawks at her as if she’s just said something completely insane, but she’s too busy plinking flasks around to notice. It's goddamn roasting.

That, and her idiom makes no sense whatsoever. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so preoccupied with how antsy he feels.

He rolls his neck, an uncomfortable crack making him huff again, yet as his head hangs sideways, he catches a glimpse of something a little more substantial than a few sheets of faded parchment.

Nestled within the clutter, a chunky, leather-bound notebook sits, worn from use, but still relatively intact. “Hell-o.” He purrs, pushing aside some of the papers to grab it.

“What’cha got?” she chirps, still facing one of the many shelves, crystalline clinks reverbing off of the walls as she continues imbibing in her own curiosity.

“I think,” Sam's fingers delicately trace the timeworn pages of the notebook, each page imbued with the secrets of Casimir’s elixir recipes and incantations, “we have got our hands on Mr. Magic Man’s recipe book.”

“Ooo. Anything juicy?”

He leans a hip against the stone, cupping the book in one hand whilst the other tugs at the sherpa collar rubbing against the back of his neck. It is stuffy.

"Uh, yeah, there's... there's definitely some interesting stuff in here," He replies vaguely, his mind preoccupied with the subtle shifts in his body's temperature.

“Spill.” She says, finally diverting her attention from the shelves, a frosty puff of air billowing from her lips as she speaks.

As his eyes scan the complex instructions and cryptic symbols, a particular recipe catches his attention, intrigue somewhat subding his discomfort. "Here's somethin’," he murmurs, his voice just managing to keep his uncertainty under wraps. “'Whisperwind Tonic,’” Sam scrunches his face up, his brow furrowing in concentration as he reads the intricate script.

“Grants the drinker the ability to move unseen and unheard for a short period of time.” He scoffs at the page, subconsciously rubbing his injured hand against the corner of the notebook in an attempt to relieve the subtle ache that’s beginning to radiate from the centre of his palm.

“Bullshit.” She snorts, putting a bottle back to its rightful place on the shelf in front of her.

“Right.” He clears his throat as he continues to peruse the notebook's contents. Did he eat something funny?

“Keep going. I’m intrigued.” She turns around, making her way towards him to take a peek at the book herself.

His eyes narrow as he faces her, her proximity suddenly more pronounced, the surrounding heat sending him into a slightly dizzying haze. He shakes off the feeling, rolling his shoulders before reading again.

"There’s... potions to manipulate memories... truth elixirs. Nonsense. All this stuff for people who can’t get laid. Probably just a bottle of rohypnol, right? I mean, how else can someone make a ‘passion elix--”

He coughs suddenly, choking on his words before looking at her with some sort of incredulous bewilderment that makes her stop in her tracks.

“What?”

“Jesus, girl. You got enough perfume on?”

“I don’t- what do you mean?”

He scoffs, grimacing. “Whatever you’ve got on? Ease up on it, next time, huh?”

She grumbles, hopping up onto the table beside him, pulling the collar of her jacket up to her nose. She sniffs. It smells like nothing. Just… her. Not good, not bad. She kicks his shin playfully.

“If you think I smell like shit, just say. It’s been a long day.”

“Nah, you don't…” He scratches his palm again, a faint frown creasing his brow as he notices a faint discolouration at the centre. He rolls his wrist to determine whether or not it was just a trick of the light. “You smell really good, actually.” He speaks, though it’s like he’s unaware he’s said anything.

She does. Good enough to eat, in fact, and as she leans in, resting her chin on his shoulder with an amused smirk on her face, Sam's line of sight is dragged from his hand to her eyes, narrowed slightly by her bemused smile. His vision blurs slightly and his brows furrow as he struggles to refocus.

She inquisitively tilts her head, and slowly, he finds his eyesight refocusing on the part of her neck left exposed between her hair and the collar of her jacket. It looks soft. Smooth.

Inviting.

The gentle glow of colour coming from the shelves behind them, reflecting off of her skin mesmerises him, and he finds himself wondering what it would be like to bury his face in the curve of her neck, to dig his fingers into its nape, and let his teeth leave small, speckled bruises behind, to hold her in place and breathe the sweetness in as her breath cools his skin. It's an urge, almost. Raw and overwhelming.

One that he quickly snaps out of.

His cheeks flush as he realises the deviance of his own thoughts, the suddenness of it all leaving him... reeling, to say the least.

“Okay, Romeo.” She teases. “Sometimes I think we’re lucky that this line of work doesn’t have an HR department.” Her voice feels like a hug and a punch to the jaw at the same time, nonetheless, her giggle pulls him back to reality, his attention snapped back to his aching palm.

He frowns deeper, a faint purplish hue beginning to emerge at its centre, subtle discolouration spreading slowly like tendrils of ink on cotton, becoming more pronounced by the second.

He swallows hard, the thickness of the scent oozing down his throat still, leaving him momentarily breathless.

"I, uh..." he stammers, his mind racing to find an explanation for the sudden onslaught of whatever-the-fuck-just-happened, whilst all the layers on him begin to feel like cling film. It’s irritating. It hurts, even.

Her smile falters a little. “I’m… just kidding- hey, you good?” She reaches for his wrist to see what keeps grabbing his attention.

“It’s nothin’, forget it," he stammers, voice a little strained as he closes his sore hand into a fist. He shakes her off of him with an unconvincing snort in a poor attempt to save face.

His attempt at self-preservation only causes her to mirror his embarrassment, and as Sam feels the scent dissipate slightly, an uncomfortable tension takes its place.

He watches her eyes narrow in the corner of his vision, suspicion flickering in their depths as she studies her companion's sudden unsettled demeanour.

“Right.” she mumbles, slapping her thighs awkwardly. “Well… I’m not one to waste perfume on a job. Especially with you for company, so…” her voice trails off, waiting for what she thinks is an inevitable clapback. It doesn’t come. Her face reddens as her eyes move around awkwardly, though fortunately, he’s too focused on turning the pages of the book to notice.

”Hey.” She says, prodding his temple with her forefinger. “You… sure you’re okay?”

Sam flinches at her touch, a jolt shooting through him as he sniffs to maintain his composure, standing up to distance himself.

“Mhm,” he replies hastily, his gaze darting away from hers as his mind races to find a plausible reason behind the overwhelming sensation. “Yeah, yeah, fine…just- think I ate…” God it’s hot. “-Damn jacket.” He grunts, putting the book down to tug the denim off of an arm, shaking it off of the rest of him impatiently.

She hops off of the stone and backs away, a perplexed laugh escaping her.

“Don’t be evasive!”

“What? It’s…I’m hot. Shit.” Sam mutters, his irritation mounting as he tries to regain control of the situation. He scratches the palm of his hand, and, with a sigh, moves further away from the stone counter, throwing off another layer.

Left in his t-shirt, she gawks at him as he preoccupies himself by looking at his hand once more.

“Samuel, It’s like… sub-zero in-”

“Look. It is warm. I am warm.” He scrunches up his hand with a sigh, frustration progressing strangely fast as he cuts her off. “So, I’ve taken my jacket off. That a problem?”

Her grin falters. She awkwardly teeters from side to side as she decides to keep quiet.

“I could smell… somethin’, thought it might’ve been you, now it’s gone. Just…” He trails off, taking a deep breath as he tries to steady himself. Tilting his head up to the ceiling, he basks in the brief recess from the sweltering heat clinging onto his body, “Just…park it. Please.”

She frowns, her gaze lingering on Sam for a moment longer before she holds her hands up defensively, dismissing the strange encounter with a slow nod as she turns her head back to the shelves.

“Parked. Dick.” she retorts, a façade of amusement decorating her tone in an attempt to lighten the mood, covering the awkward swallow and slight flush in her cheeks one might get after being scolded by a teacher in front of their class. Meanwhile, Sam fixates his attention back onto the notebook in his hands.

As he continues to flip through the brittle parchment, a developing sense of unease begins to tighten his chest. From the corner of his eye, he watches her hop off of the table, tightening her ponytail as she ambles awkwardly back over to the shelves. He parts his lips to apologise, but a painful pulse coming from his hand re-diverts his attention.

He squints between his hand and the intricate symbols and arcane diagrams, words written in faded text, but just as he begins to take it in, he feels himself struggling to focus.

That same sickening sweetness from moments ago slowly assaults his senses again; it’s like a thick, unshakable mist, seeping into his nose, clinging to his throat and settling heavily in his lungs.

Attempting to clear his throat without drawing her attention, Sam shakes his head, a slight furrow forming between his brows as he does so. The back of his hand instinctively rests against his nose, as if warding off the unexplained, worsening discomfort.

"You…” he swallows, the room seemingly closing in on the tension his outburst had created, “Y’sure you're not wearing perfume or something? Jeez, it’s givin’ me a headache," he mutters with a meekness that she finds irksome.

She scoffs in irritation. "Oh my God, no! What are you talking about?" she retorts, pointing emphatically toward the shelf of vials, her impatience palpable as his attention remains surgically attached to the notebook. “Will you focus?” She looks back at the shelf.

Five of the vials remain untouched, surrounded by that same soft glow he was fixated on moments ago.

“We need those ones, right?”

Sam, however, remains frozen, his eyes now locked onto a specific page.

“Id. The word- it wasn’t a… damn abbreviation.” Freud's structural model of the goddamn psyche.

“Huh?” She prods, arms folded, brows arched.

“Freud…Id and ego.” Unable to detach his attention from the inked pages, he ignores her as his lips move silently, mimicking the phonetics of the symptoms written on the frail parchment.

The pinprick- sore, burning now, in fact- has become the centre point of a spider's web of dark hairline veins, matching the worrying description in front of him. His gaze shifts between the book and his own hand, a growing realisation drilling into his brain as he watches the deep colour reach his wrist. This is when he remembers the engraving on the lever. Id. the insatiable id, the book says. He scoffs at the audacity of it all. Wonderful!

His own blood flow pulses through his ears, clouding him with more anxiety and indignation, and dread pitches in his gut-

"Sam!"

"What?" He snaps, abruptly smacked back to reality as her irked voice pierces through his fearful focus.

As her gaze settles on him, flustered, brows knitted together in vexed concern, she momentarily holds back her annoyance, her brows furrowing as he blinks, attempting not to entertain the gravity of the situation unfurling in front of him.

“Jesus, are you PMSing or something?” Her sarcasm goes hand in hand with her raised brow, smirk combo, amused disbelief taking her over. Yet, her own annoyance gives way slightly to genuine worry as she observes the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his expression. "What’s in that stupid book that’s got you so worked up?"

She looks… good. When she's flustered. Annoyed. The flyaway hairs and the frown. He supposes she thinks she looks intimidating. It's having the opposite effect- nope. No. That's enough.

"I’m not-'' he fumbles an attempt at trying to reassure both himself and her. "Just…” he clears his throat again, the musky sweetness still violating his respiratory system as his eyes twinge with guilt at his sudden attitude change. “Nope. Doesn’t matter." Quickly closing the notebook, Sam clutches it under his arm, straightening his posture, and offering a nod and an awkward smile. “I, uh, didn’t mean’ta…” He trails off, a soft haze forming over his vision.

She's not stupid. She sees the growing urgency in his eyes that hints at a deeper worry, and it makes her huff. Why can’t he ever just say what he’s thinking? Or, perhaps better, apologise properly?

She sighs and shakes her head. She spends far too much of her energy stressing about him and his wellbeing, when he probably couldn't give a shit about her outside of a job. Enough self sabotage.

“Whatever…can you… get me up to those shelves? Place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Should he show her the book? He looks back to the dark colour continuing to weave through the veins in his palm.

He considers the danger he’s in- that she’s in, if this isn’t, in fact, total bullshit. His blood flow picks up the pace, and he gets hotter. His mouth feels tight. Wet and dry at the same time. God, he feels sick-

“Oh my God, Sam, snap out of it!” She steps closer to him, making him stiffen in apprehension. “I need to get on your shoulders. Focus, please.”

Please. Please please please- the rasped desperation lodged at the back of her throat makes him shudder. He wants to hear her say it again and again and again-

“Do I need to smack you?” The thought of her palm thwacking against his cheek slices through his thoughts, her voice low, bordering irate. He swallows again.

A strained shake of the head is all he can manage in response, and the urgency of their situation propels him into action- if they could just get out of here, he can distance himself. Fresh air cures all ailments, no?

"Alright, just-" he mutters, voice tight as he takes a hesitant step closer, throwing the book to the ground and kicking it aside. His stare flickers briefly to the discoloured veins now reaching his fingertips, and he swallows in silent acknowledgment of the dangerous path he seems to be treading. Still, with a deep breath, Sam carefully lowers himself to a knee, jaw clenched, skin clammy as he beckons her over.

Oblivious to the tumult going on inside him, she moves, adjusting her stance over him. His hands find support on her hips as she sits on his shoulders, but as their skin brushes directly for no more than half a second, his breath catches and he almost chokes.

“You okay?” She asks out of obligation, looking down at him warily.

Sam inhales deeply, nodding in response, jaw clenched, desperately trying to ease up his heart rate as he pushes himself up, raising her to the height she needs.

He tries to steady himself, but as every sense intensifies to an unfathomable degree, he has no choice but to close his eyes to try shutting them out.

Sam can feel the rhythmic rush of her pulse resonating through him, every beat amplifying that strange suffocating sweetness that continues to overwhelm his senses whenever he’s close to her.

“Hurry it up.” He winces.

“Pot, kettle, black.” She retorts, leaning forwards, backpack unzipped as she reaches for the first vial, and as the softness of her voice reverberates through him, his spine is graced with a shiver.

As she reaches up, her body shifts slightly, and he tightens his grip to keep her steady. He can’t help but notice the way her breath hitches, just for a second. It’s a small sound, almost imperceptible, but it makes his chest tighten with a fierce, protective… is it desire?

"Almost there," she says, her voice a little breathless from the fear of falling off of him. "Just...keep still."

"Doin’ my best," he murmurs, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. He wonders if she can feel it too—the electric current. A persistent, dull thrum tugging and squeezing and pulling at every cell and synapse in his body.

Her thighs tighten around him ever so slightly as she reaches for a further vial; the fabric covering them brushes against his ears, the sensation overwhelming enough to make him grunt and dig his fingers even deeper into the flesh of her hips.

As he does so, the details of her body become vividly apparent beneath his fingertips– every fibrous contour of muscle, the softness of fat, the rush of blood beneath her lycra-clad skin– his senses are heightened to an almost unbearable degree, and his head turns sideways as he tries to steady his shaky breathing- the dichotomy of duty and… maybe temptation… playing out in a near-excruciating loop in his mind.

He feels a pull. His nose- his mouth, are lured towards her inner thigh. He swears his stomach growls at the scent of her. If only he could taste her. Drink her down- devour her until he drowns- Shit. No. No-- they need to wrap this the fuck up. Get the hell out of here.

“C’mon.” he grits- whether it was more to her, or his way of trying to pull himself together, he doesn’t know. He lays his head against her thigh, willing for it all to be over.

He wants to yell at her- tell her to stop being so inquisitive-- to stop finding the need to read the labels on the fucking vials she’s still gathering, but if she speaks back to him again his knees might just give.

You're going to be fine, he unconvincingly tells himself. That's what you do. Deal with things. More importantly, she’s going to be fine. Fresh air, he thinks again, they’ll be out of here soon.

Sam’s eyes begin to glaze over again, fingers pressing ever-so-slightly deeper into her as he tries to keep his vision focused.

He’d be able to control himself, he’s sure of it. He’d stare down at the floor as they both retrace their steps out of the crypt, in his head repeating the notion that whatever’s affecting him will just… go away- it’ll be fine if he just pushes through it, it’ll be fine if he just pushes through it-- diminishing any thoughts of how easy it would be to grab her whilst she walks just ahead of him, blissfully unaware of what he wants to do to her.

Oh. What he wants… to do to her.

Pinning her against the wall. Tearing through that perfectly stitched seam on her leggings right between her thighs before even giving her a chance to react, or, God forbid, to protest before he breaks her in.

He absentmindedly licks his lips.

Thoughts of the financial reward, the glory of finding this place- fulfilling their client’s desires, blah, blah, fucking blah, fade into the background as a primal spark flickers deep. The awareness of the perilous temptation turns into some sort of hypnotic drumbeat in his head, rational thoughts singed at the edges, slowly burning into ash and flaking away into thin air.

As his nose and mouth press against her inner thigh, the tension peaks and he becomes overwhelmed by her; Sam's breath quickens, and a possessive hunger simmers behind his eyelids.

His lips part, brushing against her, teeth grazing against fabric- an exploration that hovers on the edge of giving in to something far removed from sanity.

Feeling a warm tickle, she diverts her attention from the shelves in front of her to Sam’s head between her legs.

She swallows, a fleeting pull in her core as she takes in the sight of his fingers dug deep into her hips, but quickly shrugs it off in favour of understanding why the hell he’s breathing so heavily against her, and why on earth his mouth is pressed against her leg.

Sam inhales, opening his mouth wider, taking shallow breaths.

Then, he bites.

It’s a feral snap into temptation he was trying so hard to fight against.

As his teeth clamp down into the meat of her thigh, she squeals, wobbling, then falling back and off of his shoulders, her skin grazing harshly, simultaneously snapping him out of whatever sick trance he'd fallen into.

“Fuck!” She shouts as her body thuds against the ground. She painfully drags herself into a sitting position, face contorted into an expression of complete disarray as he gawks at her, horrified.

“Shit- are you-” Sam rushes over to see if she’s hurt, but as his hand brushes against her shoulder, he has to fight against himself in order to suppress a groan. It’s too much. He painfully wrenches his hand away, subduing his own body's desire to keep it there. He cowers back. “Oh, God.”

One hand cradling the back of her head whilst the other pulls at the fabric of her leggings, she frowns, cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders uncomfortably as she leans herself away from him.

Wide-eyed frown fixed to her face, she checks her hands for blood. Nothing, thank God, other than a dull ache that sears through her upper thigh.

“Did… did you just fucking bite me?!” She asks, voice quiet, dipped in anger.

Sam doesn’t reply. He’s shaking, hand clasped to his forehead as he glares at the floor, unable to bring himself to look at her. His hand obscures his vision and he breathes heavily at the sight; the purple steadily darkening into the veins in his wrist, fading into his forearm. The book is right. And he’s absolutely fucked.

Meanwhile, she double takes. Sam, leggings, Sam, leggings. There’s a slight fray in the fabric.

She pulls herself to her feet, wincing at the all-round ache in her body, astounded.

“What the hell is up with you?!” She hisses at him, taking a step closer before he holds a hand out defensively.

“I- I’m- no, stay over there, I… I don’t know. I don’t-” He splutters, doubling over as if he’s been punched in the gut as she gets closer. He stumbles backwards, back smacking against the stone table with a force that makes him grunt. “Somethin’- something’s happening t’me.” He rasps, wide eyes glued to the palm of his hand.

“Yeah, no shit.” She spits, looking at her leg again. “You broke the fucking skin- how-” Her voice is tinged with exasperated irritation… that quickly morphs into extreme concern when she finally takes in his appearance. “Jesus. W-what is going on with you?”

Sam’s sweating, despite it being cold enough to see their own breath, his sleeves clinging to his arms, fabric glued to his torso as his chest heaves unsteadily. His eyes are wide, and as they traverse away from his palm, down his body, it’s clear that they’re wide in realisation.

“You-” He’s fucked. Which means she’s fucked. How on earth is he supposed to explain what’s going on here? “You’ve gotta go.”

She huffs, ignoring his plea. “Do you need… water, or something? Painkillers?” She asks, panic creeping into her voice, dropping to her knees as she throws her backpack to the ground. She holds it open, hands ferreting around for her water bottle, clattering around the vials that miraculously remain intact, whilst Sam’s eyelids grow heavy.

“N-no.” He shakes his head, turning back to her to make sure she’s unharmed, but as soon as he looks at her, he’s unable to avert his gaze from the fullness of her thighs as she kneels. “God.” He mumbles, salivating.

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s losing himself.

He musters the strength to force his eyes shut, and it hurts. Every part of his body wants her. To look at her, to touch her, to… taste her, even- but the slither that remains of his weakened mind can't allow it.

Shaking her head, she retrieves her flask. “Here. You’re sweating.” She says, walking over to him. “It’ll cool you down.”

Sam swallows a whine, and lowers himself fully down to the ground with a self-loathing groan, hunched over, eyes squeezed shut as he attempts to drive out all sorts of depraved, wanton thoughts that keep flitting in and out of his head unprompted.

“N-no. Don’t come near me.” his hushed murmur comes out gravelly as she wearily dips her head down to meet his eye line, concerned at how he’s lowered himself to the ground. She takes a nervous breath, kneeling to his level as he lets out a defeated sigh.

He keeps his view of her hidden by his arm as she extends her own, ignoring his plea to instead tilt his chin up and hold the flask up to his lips. He shudders, his whole body trembling as his eyes unwillingly fix on hers, cursing under his breath at the touch of her cool hand on his skin. His gaze draws lower to her waist, her hips, her soft stomach- his hands clenched tight into his jeans as he fights against the impulse to lunge at her.

She tilts the flask and upwards and watches his throat bob as he swallows. She swallows too, almost choking on her dry throat. The longer she looks at him, the more the chill in her bones dissipates- the more she feels warmth seep into her bloodstream.

Her skin against his feels like molten metal, and he shakes with the ever-growing impulse to grab hold of her. To touch, and to be touched. He pushes the flask away in a brash attempt to get her away from him, then holds his breath as he tries to focus on the small bit of reprieve the cool water has granted him, even if it is no better than a bucket thrown over a forest fire.

“Any better?” No answer. She huffs, screwing the lid back on before backing up a little. “Can I trust you to get me back to the window so we can get out of here, or are you gonna bite my other leg, too?”

“Can’t-” Sam blurts panicked, eyes wide as his head darts in her direction.

“Oh my-” She laughs mirthlessly, strenuously rubbing her face before eyeing the room to see what else she can come up with. “Where’s that book?”

No. He’s going to throw up. He can’t let her find out. If he just waits it out, everything will be fine. His gaze moves to where he’d kicked the notebook- just under a shelf. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

“Jesus chr- where’s the notebook, Sam! The one you were reading!”

Unfortunately, her eyes follow suit, and as she catches a glimpse of the frayed leather binding, she crawls towards it.

He watches in a sort of trance-like state as she flattens herself against the ground, moving her torch around underneath the dusty shelves in search of the book he’d kicked under them minutes ago. “If you’re not going to tell me, I’ll look for answers myself.”

This is perfect. He could go for her right this second. Pinning her down would be easy- she's so small compared to him. So weak. A pretty little lamb, all ready for him to slaughter. He suppresses a moan at the thought.

“Got it.” She jumps up, fragile book in hand, and he smacks himself in the face with a grunt.

Revolting. Selfish.

She starts flicking through the pages, face riddled with ire as Sam's breath hitches. “No. Don’t- don’t look in th-” He lets out a panicked whimper as his body reacts to the feeling of his shirt peeling on and off his skin; he starts to hyperventilate. Clasping his hand over his mouth as he strains painfully against his jeans, he winces. “Shit.” He swallows, covering his face with his hands as he leans back against the stone.

She watches his Adam's apple bob as he quietly gulps down air in an attempt to calm himself down.

“You’re hardly in any position to tell me what to do.” She reads; pages upon pages of notes and diagrams elude her as she takes cautious steps towards him, but as his hands shoot out to stop her coming closer, she stills, and takes him in.

She notes the uneasy tremble, the sheen of sweat, flushed cheeks, and the uncharacteristic panic. Perhaps even more alarming than the complete absence of his calm and collected nature is the wispy nebula of blackcurrant-purple bleeding outwards from the more concentrated black in the centre of his palm, up into the veins leading towards his elbow.

She steps closer.

"Don't." He snarls, flecks of frightened spittle coming through his teeth. And this time, she does as she’s told.

She exhales shakily, eyes fixed on the sight of his hand- she swears she sees the dark wisps expanding.

"I- I need to find out what that… purple shit is."

She keeps flicking through, rubbing at her thigh as it twinges with discomfort.

"Yeah, well," He mumbles through gritted teeth, shoulders heaving as if he's fighting the most ferocious of fevers. “Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

"Ignorance is only making things worse." She snaps, fingers desperately frittering between pages of Casimir's stupid fucking disintegrating notebook. "Why don’t you just tell me what’s happening?" She laughs- no mirth in sight, eyes watering as her head throbs and her insides churn with dread. “Tell me what’s going on. I bet I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix- Shit, there’s that goddamn smell again.” He laughs ironically, before hissing in discomfort and writhing slightly.

She rests the book on the stone desk with a frustrated grunt, holding it open with one hand whilst the other arm wrestles off her jacket absentmindedly, sighing in relief as the cool air ventilates under her t-shirt. She shakes her head in disbelief before flicking to the next page.

She looks at Sam dead in the eyes, trying to steady her own heart rate as she does so in hopes he’ll pass her red cheeks off as some sort of side effect of the cold. Cold. It was cold a second ago, wasn’t it?

As soon as she looks back at him, a stifling humidity continues to build. It must be the intensity and the… abruptness of the situation. She goes to remove her jacket, until she realises it’s already off. She feels like she’s wrapped in a layer of plastic- hot, flustered, and her leg fucking kills- This is the last time she lets herself get so… pent up over him.

“You’ve- gotta go.”

“Go?” She huffs, annoyance permeating her tone. She shudders, her face running even hotter, his voice alone enough to render her knees weak, and her throat tight. “You'd love that, wouldn't you? Ever the hero. Asshole.”

“No, I- Fuuuck!” He groans loudly into his fist, trembling. Admittedly, it unnerves her, so she turns her attention back to the book, fingers scrambling from dog-eared page to dog-eared page.

“So, you’d rather I let your stubborn ass stay here, suffering from- who knows what- ow, my God.” She hisses, the urgency and irritation in her voice making a return as a dull ache throbs through her thigh.

“You can’t be near me.” He mutters into his hands as he doubles over, just loud enough for her to hear.

Inhaling sharply, a brief but intense pang of emotion stirs within her, an ache born not only from the profound lack of understanding of what’s transpiring, but also, admittedly, the slight sting of… is it some sort of infantilization? She thought they were over that! They’ve been partners for months now, and he still doesn’t trust her? Why is he trying so hard not to let her know what the problem is?

And then there's the rejection, of course. That hurts almost as much as her developing headache.

“Well, unfortunately, I have to be near you. I can’t get out.” She points to the stained glass window. “I need you to get me up there-” He cuts her off abruptly with an irritated grunt, jaw clenched in warning.

“I can’t!” He shouts.

“Why?” She shouts louder, stepping closer again.

“Stop-”

“Don’t tell me to stop-'' She follows his eyeline, landing on the writing on the window that he’s transfixed on again. “Firmitudo Intus- what?” The script grates clumsily out of her throat as she rubs feverishly at her sore leg. “Tell me what it means! What’s wrong with you?!”

“S-stability in- in balance. How- ughh, shit- how the pressure plates worked.” Sam huffs, words punctuated with a flurry of uncomfortable grunts. “Why can’t you-- ah, God dammit- just take a hint!” He groans loudly into his fist, trembling.

“Take a hint?!” She spits, voice wavering. “Screw you! Just tell me what's going on- or, or better off- tell me the fact that you can't stand the sight of me."

“No, no, no- stay there— It's not like that, I- you don't get it, it's —”

“Spell it out for me then! Stop being so fucking secreti-”

“I’m going to fucking jump you.” He bellows, his face twitching as a wave of blistering, blistering heat courses through him. His fingertips dig painfully into the stone behind him, finding leverage.

She ogles him, bewildered.

Then, after a moment, she guffaws, her fear momentarily usurped by such a ridiculous statement.

In that moment, as she mocks him, Sam feels a surge of strength shoot through him, perhaps a side effect of his desperation not to face further humiliation. It's as if some dormant force within him has been nudged awake, overpowering his rational mind, and with a grunt, he drags himself upright against the table; movements fluid. Predatory.

“You’re going… to jump me?” She sneers, her voice low, teeth bared in a sour smile as she turns to the window, momentarily considering how to get up there herself. “Hah! Of course you are. Any threat to avoid telling me what’s happening, huh? You're such a-”

Her insults die in her throat as she’s shoved harshly into the wall. The fragile book slips from her fingers, thudding onto the floor.

She stares up at Sam, wide-eyed and startled. His painful grip on her wrist, the back of her head pulsating after colliding with so many hard surfaces- it’s all making her ears ring. His grip is firm and bruising as he pushes himself onto her, his stare intense. Unrelenting.

“What are you doing?" she stammers, her voice trembling, brows furrowed in frightened confusion.

But Sam doesn't answer. Instead, he leans in closer, his breath hot against her skin, eyes locked onto hers with an unsettling intensity that makes her stomach flutter. She can feel his heart pounding against her chest as he presses into her, matching the now frantic rhythm of her own as heat radiates off of him.

Sam's certain he can hear her blood flow as he holds her gaze, his senses heightened to the point of overload. The warmth emanating from her skin, the rapid rhythm of her pulse beneath his fingertips, and the heady, sickly sweet scent of her- it’s all driving him to the brink of madness.

“What… the hell are you doing, Sam? Let go.” she whispers, her other hand tentatively going for him in an attempt to wrench herself free, though, with an instinctive speed, he captures her other wrist, pinning it on the other side of her head as a startled gasp leaves her lips. She struggles against his grasp with an anxious whimper, but he only tightens his hold, his wild expression a frightening mix of confusion and horror. Yet his grip on her remains tight.

"Make it stop-," he stammers through his tightened jaw, his voice trembling with remorse. "I don't know what… I didn't mean to- I need-” A wave of dizziness washes over him as he speaks, a growing tightness in his chest, threatening to send him spiralling into oblivion- he feels like he’s going into cardiac arrest.

Her eyes are wet with anxiety as he cages her in, brows wavering as if she’s attempting to prevent herself from tearing up.

But he’s frozen. Mind rapidly toing and froing between wanting to let her go, and wanting to see her cry. What he’d give to see her eyes brimming with tears, his fingers tight against her scalp while her lips grow swollen, drenched by her own drool as he rams himself down her throat. “I can’t- I can’t stop thinkin’ about… Jesus, the things I wanna do to you.”

His fingers tighten their grip further, pushing himself harder against her, keeping her painfully upright against the stone. Their eyes meet once more as her own chest starts to heave. God. The way he’s looking at her. It’s… carnal.

Amongst this sudden yo-yoing of fear and confusion, she feels herself heat up more, a cramping feeling tugging at her abdomen as he stares at her, breathing deeply- slowly.

“What?” She just about manages to rasp, lips parted, wrists aching, head pounding. “What are you talking about?”

She knows exactly what he's talking about. She can feel him pressing against her.

“You s- sound like a mouse.” He mumbles as if inebriated, one side of his mouth twisted into an almost malevolent grin that makes her stomach drop as he presses his forehead against hers, rendering her virtually immobile. “So small. So scared.” He mocks with a pout as she shudders. “But you’re not just scared, are you?” He speaks through his teeth, eyes trailing down to watch himself push his hips against her with a deep groan.

The sudden friction sends an embarrassingly high-pitched gasp spilling out from her mouth before her teeth have a chance to trap it. Fuck.

His eyes go back to hers, darkened, pupils blown. “Thought so.” He smirks. “I can pretty much taste you from-” a grunt permeates the end of his sentence as his darkened resolve wavers.

He shakes his head, a sudden maelstrom of panic and culpability in his chest making his eyes water.

“Not- me. I didn’t mean-” She remains glued to the wall, wide-eyed and disoriented, as he stumbles over his words, her heart racing as she watches him lose balance and fall into her, palms braced at either side of her waist as the vice-like grip on her wrists finally relents. “I’m s-” he hisses, his body burning as if demanding him to succumb to what it wants.

Much to her own dismay, she doesn’t move her freed hands- there’s no attempt to push him away again. She’s so caught up in the shock of how good that felt and all of the confusion and guilt that are beginning to plague her head. She must've hit it hard.

Sam’s hand digs into the small of her back, his shoulders slumping as his fingers slip just beneath the hem of her shirt. His grip is tight and desperate as he drops his head against her chest, leaning into her for support as he whimpers, gasping for air. “I can't help it- I want- to stop, but-”

She takes in a shaky breath, momentarily paralysed, as if her body and vocal chords are in combat against her brain. There's something hypnotic about the way he's looking at her, something frightening about the desperation and the spontaneous Jekyll-and-Hyde-ness of it all, yes, but equally… satiating… as if this is something her body's been vying for for ages.

She swallows hard at the feeling of his skin on hers, and the soft, needy sounds coming out of him- at his weight keeping her firmly pressed against the wall, and the smell of his sweat, cheap detergent, the gift set aftershave he feels obligated to use that’s making her heart thump even harder.

All such normal things- usually so unnoticeable. But it’s a sudden assault on her senses that she can’t shake off- it clings to her, burning her eyes, creeping up her nose, down her throat, settling in her stomach. It’s grounding. Exhilarating, to the point where she wants to tug him closer and inhale him to the point of suffocation.

And she’s baffled by this revelation. Nauseated, almost. She should be angry with him. Furious. How dare he manhandle, bite, bruise and then withhold an explanation from her. Instead, she can’t help but feel an intrinsic need to keep him as close to her as possible. To see, smell, hear, taste him.

Why is her body reacting in such a way? Why is she soaking wet?

Sam’s terrified. The thoughts he’s had in the past few minutes have been depraved. Actions violent, and he would rather die than cause her harm, so he’s trying with all his might not to let himself give in. Even if he wants nothing more.

From day dot, she’s been off limits. And he's always stuck to that.

He's aware of how she reacts every time he's pushed their banter a bit too far, leaving her flustered. Every hint of jealousy she's let slip when he's talked about his ‘dating’ life. He knows about her ‘crush’– cute, he thought, but inevitably fleeting, surely. Unlike his own feelings- oh no! They’ve fused to every fibre of his being like hot glue.

This whole situation is nothing but a cruel joke. Like fate has conspired to mock him- to force him into getting his way via a horrible, depraved, manipulative circumstance since he's been too much of a pussy to act upon it otherwise. She’s right. He is stubborn. He should’ve let her pull the damn lever. At least that way, she wouldn't be a victim. Or... perhaps less of one.

His stomach lurches and he slumps to his knees, hands maintaining an unstable hold on her hips. He feels pathetic. “Makeitstop.” He heaves again.

He tries to speak again, but as he bucks his hips again, completely against his own will, the blazing friction against his own jeans causes him to hiss, his forehead collapsing against her thigh, eyes wide as he pants for air. “Holy shit.”

She looks down helplessly, shaken and clueless. She watches his hand dig into her thigh, holding it in place as he burrows his face into it.

“You smell so fucking good, I-” He cuts himself off with a groan, shaking his head and pursing his lips. His voice comes out rough again. Dark. Crumbled asphalt, absinthe poured straight down her throat, settling into her bloodstream. “No, no, no…” He just about pulls away to give himself air, eyes flitting up to her, warring between despair and yearning.

The sight of it makes her… warmer still. Hot, even. The bite on her thigh burns as his proximity agitates it. “What should I do?” She rasps, fingers anxiously pulling at the curls by the nape of her neck as if she’s trying to withhold from touching him. “I don’t know what’s… happening.” She whispers, vision losing focus for just a moment.

"I need..." he grunts, struggling to find the words. He weakly tugs at the collar of his t-shirt, but his strength is failing him. "I need you to... take it off... please," he begs, his voice barely more than a desperate whisper.

He looks so pretty like this. On his knees… whining softly, cheeks flushed, his hands grasping at her. It’s so unlike him. Samuel Casanova Drake- reduced to this. The flirtation. The teasing. Getting her all worked up on purpose, only to be reminded that she’s nothing special- that that’s just the way he is. All bark, no bite. Is he being taught a lesson?

She swallows thickly.

She thinks about how it felt when he grinded himself onto her and forcibly suppresses a moan as a pleasurable jolt shoots up her spine, setting her hairs on end. Her head is swimming. This is all so… artificial. So odd. She’s always been attracted to him, but fuck, this is wrong.

She hesitates, her heart pounding in her chest as a wave of guilt-ridden nausea rushes through her. Is- is she taking advantage of him?

“Please.” He repeats, his plea punctuated with a desperate whimper. She blinks, nodding, and with trembling hands, she crouches and reaches for the hem of his shirt, her fingers brushing against his heated skin. Gently, she lifts the shirt over his head, her touch lingering on his arms as she pulls it free.

Sam gasps as the cool air hits his bare skin, a momentary relief from the feverish heat consuming him. He leans heavily against her, his breathing ragged, his body trembling. "Thanks," he murmurs, his eyes closing briefly as he savours the sensation.

She swallows hard, feeling a strange mix of fear and sickening lust fester in her bloodstream. Her hands remain on his arms, steadying the both of them.

"What now?" she asks, her voice barely audible.

Her eyes are drawn to the sheen of sweat covering his body; the way dark hairs lay matted on his chest, softly trailing down his stomach, past fading ink and mottled scars, beyond where his belt keeps his jeans smouldering against his skin.

She watches her own hand rest under his chin, tilting him up to her. It’s like she’s watching it unfold through a TV screen.

Delicate wisps of condensation coming from his parted lips makes her mind wander; What would they taste like? How would the roughness of his stubble feel against her? Her mouth, her neck, her bare stomach, down down down- she's had these thoughts before; fingers delved between her thighs as she stares breathlessly up at the ceiling.

Saliva pools under her tongue as she imagines rutting against his pretty nose and open mouth like a bitch in fucking heat- oh god- her teeth graze her lower lip as her thoughts begin to spiral further than usual- why are they spiralling like this?

She’s sweating.

There’s so much desire- so much insatiable hunger in his eyes alone as he looks at her that it makes her thighs tense together. As she does so, she’s reminded of the bite again. It fucking hurts, snapping her out of her depraved trance; her eyelids flutter unsteadily as she regains focus, her cheeks burning.

His pulse thuds frantically against her thumb, and her nails stroke gently at his skin as his shoulders rise and fall harder, amplifying his restraint which is growing more and more painful by the second.

“You…” he pauses and grunts, fighting himself as his eyes remain shut. “Don’t… know what to... ugh- hurts. It’s too- too much." Every tiny little touch feels like he’s being swallowed whole. It’s like a cold spring and a flow of lava all at once, and he wants to scream.

She pulls her hands away, looking at them as though she’s the cause of the problem. Hoping to herself that her sick mind will sort itself out if she distances herself from him.

He shakes, sweat beading off of his chest, blood pumping through him at a dizzying pace as his eyes pine for her.

“N-no.” He’s craving- starving. A trembling hand raises to her wrist, and he winces as his fingers wrap around her. As his fingertips dig into her forearm, the thought of sudden absence of her touch feels like a death sentence. “Don’t.”

He swallows audibly as his body jolts again at the touch. The contact hurts him. Arouses him to such a painful degree, but he’s not letting her get away. He can’t- he doesn’t want to. He’s too far gone.

Sam’s eyes squeeze shut and he screws up his face in some sort of pained internal conflict. He grabs her wrist tighter and she winces, but as he drags her hand back to his face, her eyes follow.

“Help.” he blurts, finally deciding it’s time to bite the proverbial bullet as he sits fully and leans back against the stone table, accidentally pulling her with him. “I need- need you- your help. The last pages- another way to-” He eyeballs the notebook. “Make it stop. Before I hurt you again.”

She picks up the book and kneels. Her thumb swipes across his cheekbone as his hand rests over hers. Her hands on his bare skin are fucking excruciating; he can feel every single ridge of her fingerprints despite her stillness, like thousands of knife edges grazing his skin all at once.

“Okay- I- I’m looking.” She says, and oh, she sounds like velvet. Liquid gold that he just wants to swallow forever and ever and ever. He’s transfixed by her lips as she speaks, absentmindedly snaking his other hand up the nape of her neck and into her hair.

His fingers tighten their grip, gently pulling her head backwards, and with watery eyes he nuzzles into her neck, breathing deeply- slowly. “Hmmm, God.”

His hips buck towards her, and the feeling of his lips grazing over her neck make her swallow hard. She doesn’t need to read the book to know what’s going on. He whispers breathless apologies, guilt making his heart ache whilst he loses control of the rest of his body.

Her eyes continue to flit around the pages nervously, no longer to read, but to hide. This is ridiculous. Her skin hasn’t felt this sensitive before.

Her eyes fall over a likely explanation; a sketch of a lever mechanism, an embedded sharp needle, designed to assault the user of the lever- the intruder, all annotated in scrawled purple ink.

This artifice serves twofold: first, as a deterrent to the audacious; and second, as a penance, a punishment to those who dare disrupt the harmony of my sacred space. May they find the scales tipped; themselves lost within the labyrinth of their own psyche, ensnared by the very primal urges that govern the basest instincts.

She looks at his hand again, and takes in the details written on the page. Primal urge. Base instinct. Her cheeks flush as she converts the words into layman's terms, confirming her theory.

“It’s an… aphrodisiac.” She affirms.

As the wayward thief succumbs, such symptoms shall manifest: The skin shall burn, the point of breach becoming the source of a webbed discolouration as dark as ones fevered desire, and the pulse shall quicken with an infernal craving, subjugating the relentless pursuit of knowledge with the all-consuming tug of the insatiable id. The mind, entangled in the labyrinth of unbridled lust, shall forsake rationality. The thief shall be led astray from their pursuits, ensnared by their own voracious yearnings, knowledge plundered.

Sam hears the uncertainty in her voice as she grapples with the implications of the infection. Their eyes meet for a split second, and he feels a surge of humiliation that’s so unfamiliar to him he’d probably wretch if his mouth wasn’t preoccupied.

She takes in a shaky breath returning to the page again as the pieces begin to fit together.

“S’there another way?” he murmurs into her, the low vibrations of his voice making her close her eyes for a moment. She grunts to herself, forcing her eyes back to the page.

In the safety of companionship, the afflicted may find respite. Should the infection remain unchecked, the heart will strain beyond its limits, ultimately succumbing to the weight of its own longing.

The ‘cure’ is plain and simple. Two people. Balance. Or, by the sound of it, death.

She shakes her head.

The thought of said cure makes her shiver, tongue rolling over her bottom lip.

A coil begins to tighten in her abdomen as he groans into her skin. His hips buck towards her, and the feeling of his lips on her neck make her exhale harshly.

She looks at her leggings as another sore, shooting pain emanates from the bite mark, Sam’s wandering hands peeling apart the small tear in the fabric as his teeth graze against her throat.

Realisation fills her lungs, a bubble forming by her tonsils; the disorienting mix of undeniable, rising pleasure and panic creeping into the forefront of her mind.

Her skin looks mottled, veins deep purple.

Just like his.

The telltale discolouration, mirroring the ominous staining making its way up Sam's arm sends a shiver through her as she comprehends it all. As she watches his brows waver in internal dispute, her own contort in… concern, yes. But also a sense of desperation, wanting to feel more as Sam drags himself more upright with a cracked groan that makes her lips part and her throat seize when she’s pushed harder against him. More importantly, perhaps, the relief from knowing that neither of them can help it. That, for what it’s worth, is a mutual need.

She takes a gamble, grappling with the part-insidious, part-alleviating truth as she looks back to him, legs parting to straddle him properly.

Her chest heaves; the air feels thick, and there’s a strong pulsing ache between her thighs every time her nipples rise and fall, sore and tender underneath her tight sports bra. All of her clothes feel tight, creating tangible friction all over; her whole body, her face, her skin- is clammy and sticky and so fucking overwhelmingly hot.

A small part of Sam is still trying to stop, to control himself, but as he drags himself away from her neck to look at her, it’s clear that this prolonged contact has its consequences; his psyche swells with a sudden growth in appetite as she settles over him, and suddenly, he barely registers that he’s doing anything at all.

Moving his hand to the back of her head, he pulls her closer in a sudden move that draws a gasp from her as her hands brace themselves on his chest- the sudden harshness of his desperate fingers tugging at the roots of her hair is unexpected. The strength coming from this movement alone renders her unable to pull away- even if she wanted to.

He pants harder, unable to let her go, but so afraid of causing her harm all the same. His fingers impulsively flex at her scalp, and she gulps down a whine at the sensation as her eyes squeeze shut.

“I’m- I’m s- I can’t stop. I’m sorry-”

A hand moves from his chest to the back of his neck. With a gentle pull, she guides his gaze downward, her fingers pulling apart the material to trace the mottled purple that’s started snaking across her skin.

Sam's heart lurches in his chest, an undercurrent of panic rising up his throat like bile.

"No, no- what did i do? I-“

“Sam.” She hushes, pressing her forehead onto his, forcing him to stay still- to focus. She silently implores him to find solace in her. “It’s... we’ve just gotta...” Her eyes non-verbally tell whatever flecks of her Sam that’s still in there that she’s here for as long as he needs her to be. That she wants this. She's wanted this. That she’s willing- God, she’s willing.

This is where he feels himself begin to dissolve away completely. Prolonged closeness. Her voice. The heat rising throughout her pretty little face, the growing heaviness of her eyelids, her freckles subdued by an involuntary heat spreading through her cheeks.

And, he can feel the warmth pooling between her legs.

It doesn’t take a genius to realise that this kind of reaction from her is fuelling him. He needs more of it. Craves more of it.

He’s slipping just beneath the surface, but he’s too tired to drag himself up for air. He supposes he doesn’t really need to, now. He could drown in her and die happy.

She’s starting to feel it worsen, too. The ache. The coercion of mind from body.

Her lips brushing against his feels like molten sugar; a searing heat that’s so sickly sweet he can’t pull away despite the blistering heat that’s destined to leave a nasty burn.

“We’ve just… gotta…” she repeats slowly, voice low and speech slurred. She can’t finish her sentence- every part of her is swarmed by the need to close the gap. She has no idea how he’s managed to hold out for so long.

With a shaky exhale, he nods, releasing the tension he's been painfully holding onto, allowing himself to surrender to the overwhelming heat pulsing through him. He finally allows himself to sink under as she plants a tentative kiss on his lips. A kiss which he only returns, though much more urgent- more voracious; it’s like stumbling across an oasis in the middle of the desert- it’s his first sip of fresh water in days, and it makes her eyes widen.

She brings a hand round to the back of his neck, clinging to him eagerly, her thighs spreading further- non-verbal consent, a silent plea for more as she begins to feel the simmering deep in her belly hurriedly rise to a boil.

He grinds himself upwards without a thought, and she whimpers into his mouth. The friction, the sweet, fucking friction has him press back into her desperately, wanting more, sending a groan up from deep in his chest.

He’s gone. Rationality dwindled entirely as the slightest bit of pressure is applied, steadily being replaced with a frightening strength and burning need to have his way no matter the consequences.

She feels her heart rate quicken as she takes in the sight of his pupils. They’re fucking blown out. The pretty specks of amber that normally contrast the darker brown in his irises have been eclipsed by a deep amethyst.

“… want...fu-” Sam’s voice becomes lower still, grating through gnarled teeth, and as his fingertips dig into her back, keeping her in place, he shifts again- he’s so hard, so perfectly angled underneath her- she salivates as she chokes out. “Want to f- fill you up.”

Hey eyes gloss over and her brain numbs. She nods frantically. Heat floods between her thighs with a vengeance, rationality waning as a shockwave shoots through her arched spine. She wants everything to be touched by him.

The third time comes quicker; more brutal, more needy, taking advantage of her lack of composure as she succumbs to his grip, his mouth hungrily taking a dive for her neck again, except this time there’s less restraint. None, even.

“Oh-- sh-mmf-” Her body shudders as she slurs her words, and as his teeth pull harshly at her skin, she cries out into her hand.

Her legs tremble, knees aching as the stone beneath them digs in, breath pitching in her throat as she’s hit with a shamefully sudden climax.

Her wide eyes water as her hand remains clasped around her mouth, chest heaving as she struggles to register how little action it took for her to come, waiting for the pressure to abate and the fog to clear.

Instead, as she feels his hands roam, and watches his frantic eyes fail to decide what to settle on, the fog only thickens, overruling any semblance of critical thinking.

It hits her like a fucking tidal wave, in fact; she can’t fathom anything other than the fact that she needs more.

And in that split second, she surrenders to the pull, inhibitions fizzling away as she leans in, closing the distance between them again with a fierce determination. A surge of adrenaline tips her over the edge and she takes control, seizing him hungrily, fingertips digging harshly into his scalp to bring him back up to her. He protests, growling, biting harder until he feels himself pried away by force, her nails pressing into his jaw, leaving crescents as she gets him where she wants him, lips crashing together again in a tumultuous collision of lust and fervour.

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She wants everything off- to feel her skin pressed up against his, but the time it would take to unbutton and unzip is a repulsive notion that ignites an almost animalistic frustration within her. The thought of it drives her insane- feverish fingers move from his hair and chin, and instead scramble for his belt buckle, clumsily tugging it apart as his teeth mirror the action at her bottom lip.

The messy exchange of teeth, tongue, and spit takes precedence over Sam’s brain, and he feels himself fall into her, torsos glued desperately together as the heat in his belly burns stronger. Hot blood pumps rapidly to his cock as her choked mewls drag him perilously close to the edge after no more than some mere friction.

His mouth traverses down her chin to her throat, ravenous groans muffled against her skin as he grips onto her for dear life, beginning to feel some give in the confinement of his jeans as she unzips them. She doesn’t even try to pull him away this time- her objective has changed.

He’d swear if he could, but his brain can’t even conjure up letters any more.

His teeth pierce the delicate skin of her neck, and a startled cry escapes her lips as she loses balance and tumbles backwards onto the unforgiving stone beneath them.

Sam looms over her, his weight pressing down until she feels almost crushed beneath him. Only his hand, gripping the back of her head with a fierce intensity that verges on violence, prevents her skull from meeting the ground with bone-shattering force.

His weight bears down on her, the back of one hand planted firmly against the ground underneath her head, while the other moves to maintain its bruising hold on her jaw, thumb hooking around her bottom teeth.

Every nerve in her body seems to betray any remnant of morality as she keens, her thighs tightening around him, trapping him in place as grinds himself against her. He selfishly draws tiny pinpricks of blood from her neck, and she claws at his arm, holding it against him as she bites and sucks what he gives her- almost every inch of her has become an unforgiving erogenous zone; it's all too much but not enough. It’s not enough. Teeth piercing her skin, tongue lapping up the mess- It’s an exquisite sort of agony, and she wants- needs-

“More.” She murmurs around his thumb- or is it his finger now?

His teeth leave a trail of fire along her collarbone, her jawline, finally settling on her pulse point as it throbs beneath his lips. He grunts in response. There, he bites down harder, eliciting a guttural sound from deep within her throat as she struggles to catch her breath beneath him. Every break of the skin permits small bleeds of that relentless purple colour, rendering her virtually feral as she grows increasingly more overruled by the substance.

Rough hands roam beneath her t-shirt, sending goosebumps rising over heated skin as speckled blood bruises settle around her neck wherever his teeth have failed to puncture. To find some semblance of control amongst the chaotic frenzy, her trembling fingers pull at the waistband of her leggings, her urgency matching his own.

Fumbling clumsily, he joins her, his fingers tugging at the fabric with an urgency nigh on feral as his other hand harshly kneads at her waist. God, he wants to dig his fingers into her flesh, to break the skin, tear her apart, and fucking consume her from the inside out.

Before the waistband can even reach her thighs, she’s reaching down, pulling him out, drawing him towards her as a dribble of precum trickles over her fingertips, and he pushes up his torso to watch.

He’s sensitive. So, so, sensitive. In her desperation to pull him closer, she squeezes her palm around his shaft, and he chokes on his sudden gasp, hands smacking hard against the floor to hold himself up.

Fuck. She wants to hear him do that again.

She grips him harder, stroking up and down with a cruelly tight fist. He’s all breathless whimpers and fluttering eyelids, allowing her to revel in the sounds as he drinks in the sight of her hand wrapped around him.

He shudders, undone, from virtually nothing, shaking violently and audibly moaning behind pursed lips. He can’t even think to muster up a verbal warning before he comes, pearly hot liquid spurting over her hand, dripping down onto her stomach. Yet, similarly to her, there’s no comedown. No time for shame about such a short build up. He’s still hard, red hot and weeping, body vying for more as his eyes glue themselves to the mess he’s made on her t-shirt, seeping through to her skin- Christ, her skin-

He’s hooked; her plushness, every recess and every convex curve, how her t-shirt clings to her stomach, made tacky by him. If it were possible, he’d cover her in him just so he could spend minutes watching it drip and bead and roll across and in-between her soft, smooth, warm skin. Sam’s so mesmerised that he barely even takes in the fact that he’s pushed her t-shirt up, his tongue and teeth licking and pulling at her stomach until his hips buck harshly at the saltiness of her sweat mixing with the flavour of his own stickiness. He shudders.

Her hands slide and scramble, clumsily unhooking her bra, scraping her knuckles on the floor beneath her before pulling it all off, over her head; all just in time for his mouth to open and cram as much of her left tit inside as he can. Sam sucks with a ferocity that’d be frightening if this wasn’t a shared affliction, rutting his hips sporadically against the bunched up fabric of her leggings rolled down to her thigh.

Her nipples are hard, sore, aching, and the pressure of his teeth rabidly biting and pulling, contradicting the soothing warmth of his tongue rolling in tandem, make her jaw go slack and her brows knit tightly together as she tries to navigate the fluctuating sensations.

Her hands slide over the back of Sam’s neck and down his shoulder blades, to his waist, his hips, sticky fingers stretching, running over hairs and scars and flexing abdominal muscle as they reach for his cock, slick, swollen, and heated as it meets her palm. Squeezing him closer to her, Sam groans, mouth pausing its assault on her chest, face falling flat into it, bucking harshly as she impatiently pulls him close, close, closer, writhing restlessly ’til her leggings are low enough for her thighs to part enough to let him in.

Incoherent, mumbled moans are hummed and panted into her tender chest, hands digging into the flesh of her waist as his shaft is squeezed and dragged against her sopping cunt. She moans, a languid, filthy thing as he meets her swollen, sensitive clit, the sodden cotton of her underwear brushing tortuously against it as she brashly pulls them aside.

His impatience builds, fingers digging into her deeper and deeper until they become restless and tug fiercely at her leggings. She hisses sharply as her naked back scrapes suddenly against the floor, her body shunted downwards til one of her legs are fully exposed to air, allowing Sam to hook his knee under hers, pushing up harshly and pinning her thighs apart- access that they’re both burning for. She urges him on with a whine as he pushes down on top of her, words lost to the both of them, communication reduced to vying grunts and desperate writhing.

His pupils dilate enough to make him look feral, purple-flecked irises madly dancing left, right, up, down, as if committing the sight of her, greedy and parched, to memory, before he finally complies, long groan grating out of him as his tip breaches her slightly. He can’t hesitate any longer. His lips part as his thick cock sinks into her inexorably, leaving her completely pliant beneath him. Despite how impossibly wet she is, the stretch is still so intense- she feels like she’s being split in two; it’s both the best and worst thing she’s ever felt, but something she never wants to end.

“S-ss…” She hisses, screwing her face up in frustration as she tries and fails to say his name, nails digging into him more. “Pl-P…” She grunts again, frustrated with her inability to conjure words. Her thighs tremble, the sharp, tight warmth in her stomach tugging and pulling and obliterating every sense as she tightens around him, eyes flickering, rolling back almost painfully as he fills her deep, retracts, and fills again, each time not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt.

For a moment, head spinning, he stares down at the way her head falls back, eyes squeezing shut, arms flopping, knuckles smacking against the ground as she traps a warbled cry behind her teeth, greedily sucking him into her. He grunts, brows drawn together, and thinks he’ll never be sated again like this. It's perfect. If only it weren't manufactured.

Heat sears him apart from the inside out, savage gluttony evident in the way he gasps and he groans when his hips slam forward, over and over, pressed so tightly against her that each movement reverberates astoundingly against her clit. She’s so tight, so perfect, so wet, around him as she whines and bucks up into him.

Sam holds her down; hand pinning forearm, fingers digging deeply into stomach and waist, knee prying thigh from purple-stained thigh, pumping into her at a relentless pace; She groans as he harshly works her open, arching into him as her stomach tightens— tighter, tighter, tighter, until she’s screaming, unpinned arm smacking into his back, nails clawing crescents into his sweat-slicked skin as another wave of arousal floods every sense of her being.

She can’t breathe- she doesn’t want to- the energy needed to do so would take away from the white hot pleasure coursing through every inch of her. Liquid gushes, her cunt clamping down hot around him and squeezing, milking him so tight it makes him choke on his own sharp inhale, so good it burns- it’s almost excruciating. He shudders as he breaks, palm slamming against the floor to hold himself up when he comes, too.

She groans at the fullness and the warmth of him spilling inside her, breath coming out in messy, uneven bursts as she feels herself suck in every drop.

For a moment, she watches him come down from his peak, heavy-lidded eyes grazing over the vulnerable crease in his brow, the way his cheeks flush as he catches his breath above her, and his parted lips- she wants to kiss him. Sweetly. She wants him to let her show him she's not a ‘kid’. She wants to feel what it's like to be wanted by him. She's strong, capable, undeniably and irrevocably attracted to him, and… God… She still feels hot. Despite coming twice- or is it three times, now- the need for more is already becoming unbearable, and she fails to decipher if these thoughts are coming from the chemical festering in her veins, or if they're being made apparent due to its diminishing strength. She stings. Oh, she's a mess.

He’s still hard inside her, twitching, demanding still. The question gnaws at her, but her body burns for more, more, more. He slows above her, the lack of physical stimulation, and the completely deriding overstimulation of her mental state making her eyes water. She wriggles slightly, an impatient grunt echoing around the small room as she tries to roll her hips under him. The stillness of his cock inside her has her mewling, still spasming softly around him.

“S- Sam-” She sputters, eyes widening in realisation of her somewhat rehabilitated ability to speak.

For just a few seconds his mind’s feverish occupation dilutes, replaced with a glimpse of a soft, sated afterglow… he falters, his mouth hanging open like there’s something he wants to say.

“Mm…more. Need more.” She beats him to it, murmuring between shallow breaths, feeling the rising ache cloud her mind already.

His heart thuds so fast it’s a surprise it’s not sat in his throat- is it gratitude he’s trying to muster? Or, an admission perhaps? “I-” Just like her, the words are fighting to get out of him, but just as he strings a sentence together in his head, he starts to tense again. “Gotta… I- I’m-”

For a second, she feels sympathetic as she watches him war with himself. But her body doesn’t let the sympathy hang about for long, and she finds herself making his mind up for him, tugging him down by the back of the neck, tongue meeting tongue as she ferociously bucks up, calf hooking around thigh to pull him tight against her, giving her leverage to twist her hips and roll them both around.

It burns, the white hot anticipation, and he can barely move. His brain has been dumbed down; near-irrevocably stuck between wanting to split her open again, to keep biting and bruising and claiming, or to actually feel- to savour her in her entirety. His indecisive stupor makes him ache even more, brows knitting together tightly as his mind tries and fails to establish where to go next.

Sam can barely process anything outside of the softness of her sticky palm on his chest, the ridges of her fingerprints and the gentle sharpness each time her nails brush against his skin as she pushes him against the ground. She rolls her hips, soft curses spilling out of her lips as she feels his hands clumsily dig into her ass. He shuts his eyes, head lulling sideways as he swallows hard, choosing to feel.

Grip loosening momentarily, his eyes open at the feeling of her fingers branching up, wrapping themselves around his throat; loose, but just enough pressure that he can feel his own pulse reverberate against her thumb. She squeezes harder, turning him to face her, his head numbing with a pleasurable fizz as his vision transfixes on her.

He's too tired to fight against her- truth be told, he probably wouldn't try if he did have the strength. Jesus, she's so pretty, he thinks. Well that makes a change. Significantly less violent than the thoughts circulating his head earlier. She could squeeze tighter and tighter if she wanted, and he still wouldn't protest if it meant he could watch her, like this, from underneath her. Especially when she comes again, back arching as she moans like a fucking animal- and still she doesn't stop.

“So- you’re-” Between the pressure on his throat, her relentless pace, and his own spasmodic panting, he can barely string a sentence together, “s-damn tight- so good- fuck.”

He finds himself completely and utterly caught up in how tight she still feels around him- how fucking gorgeous she looks with her eyebrows drawn tightly together, eyelids heavy as she ferociously rocks her hips, stomach flexing, tits bouncing- the speckled bruises and drying blood stippled across her neck and collarbones- and then there's a hard pang of guilt; he did that to her- made her bleed- infected her- it's his fault that she's being made to give him this-- exactly… what he's wanted…for months.

He expects the thrumming ache to cloud him over again, but it never comes. Instead, a strange clarity claws its way through the haze of his mind. This is what he has longed for for months, but now that it's here, the moment is tainted by anguish. It took this entire horrible ordeal to force him to act upon his feelings, and he mourns the likelihood that this will be the one and only time he gets to be this close to her.

And then, beneath the sorrow and the dread, there lies a deeper, more corrosive guilt. It gnaws at him, a conscience-grating burden that leaves him nauseous. Despite the mental torment, despite everything, his body betrays him, running rife with boiling hot pleasure. The contradiction tears at him, a cruel reminder of his own skewed morality and the complex, painful nature of his...is it his love for her?

The obscene squelching sounds and the wetness leaking out of her and down her inner thighs, forming small puddles on his skin, and the floor, and, fuck, as she murmurs an exhausted plea, the taste he's getting of being wanted- needed- used by her- it all sends him over the edge.

She whimpers and falls into him, moaning incoherently into the crook of his neck as her fingers tighten, nails scraping against stubble, and-- jesus, he's coming again.

His hands meet her upper back, holding her down as he fills her once more, rasped groans and a string of murmured curses vibrate against her skin as he swallows against her hand. He holds onto her selfishly, savouring the feeling of her weight on top of his- bare skin on bare skin, the way she seeks comfort in him- he's thought about this countless times… and he hates how much he's enjoying the consent-less reality of it.

Her movements slow, becoming sloppier, lazier, her energy dwindling as she tries to chase the release she desperately needs. She whimpers, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes, dampening Sam's shoulder as they fall, and she finds her swollen, sensitive clit with one hand while the other moves from his throat to his hair.

He continues to hold her as his sensitive cock twitches inside her, nose nuzzling into her hair as he whispers; "Did you...?"

She shakes her head, a soft whimper coming out of her as she tries to push herself into another orgasm. The sound of his voice. Raw, raspy, quiet in her ears makes her tear up even more, and all of a sudden, her body's pursuit of pleasure has become torturous. She looks at Sam, his eyes clearer, amber flecks of colour visible again, his expression one of concern and exhaustion. Guilt churns in her stomach, sharp and nauseating, as the fog in her mind grows lighter by the second- the physical pain persists.

Her body, still wracked by the effects of the drug, betrays her with every shiver, flush of heat, and every desperate circle of her fingertips. She feels humiliated, the intense need now a source of shame, tucking her head back into his shoulder as she arches her back despite herself. Tears well up in her eyes, and she can’t meet Sam's eyes. "I... I'm so sorry," she whispers, her voice breaking. "I still need to-" she sniffs, "I can't- hurts."

Sam’s heart aches at the sight of her distress, and he nods, one hand smoothing down to her soft hip as the other stays on her back. He breathes in the scent of her hair, wanting to savour the moment- hell, he probably won't see her again if this is how she's reacting before she's fully recovered.

He wants more of her, he knows he does. But he's sensitive… and the clarity is still there. The clarity. The stabbing, blunt, serrated knife sawing in and out of his gut that makes him realise that he's never going to have this again. And that none of it was real anyway. But she sobs, and the sting in his chest wanes from his pain to hers. For now, curing hers takes precedence.

Gently, he pushes against her, and exhausted, she complies, rolling back round to her back, eyes closed, borderline hyperventilating. He pulls her hand from between her legs and she huffs out a shaky breath.

“Sorry…hgnn- I'm sorry.” She whispers, her chest tightening.

He watches her try to cover her face with her forearm, and as he slides out of her, she sobs quietly, tensing her thighs together and rocking her hips softly to try and give her clit the friction it needs as she's left empty.

He rubs the palm of her hand with his thumb, gently lacing his fingers between hers, eyes glued to the way their skin glistens with their mixed arousal. “None’a that.” He says, squeezing her hand as he gently pries her thighs apart. “Not your fault.”

She whimpers up to the ceiling.

“God, it really hurts, Sam.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He holds himself up on an elbow and exhales. His free hand traverses down her torso, giving her waist a reassuring squeeze before reaching between her thighs.

She keens at the nickname, making a shuddered whimper as his fore and middle fingers gather some of the copious amount of shared arousal, rubbing against her carefully.

“This okay?”

Her chin trembles as she nods. “I need more.” She whispers, and almost immediately he pushes two fingers knuckle-deep into her aching cunt, pearlescent slick oozing out onto the palm of his hand down to his wrist. She squeezes his hand instinctively, a groan bubbling out of her throat.

His eyes follow the trail as his fingers stroke her from the inside and his thumb flicks softly at her clit, her soft moans permeating his mind. He's hard again; the thick liquid warms his wrist as it trickles down further, up to where the veins in his forearm meet the inside of his elbow- the veins that were deep purple not too long ago. He looks at his hand, then her thigh; still a small webbing of colour coming from the bite mark, whilst nowhere to be seen on him.

He swallows. There's a soft haze over his brain again, but it's gentle this time. Normal, even, bar the bittersweetness of it all. There's no burn. No malicious desire eating away at him… He just wants to savour her; to soothe, to make her feel better. She looks so ashamed. He wants to take that away from her.

Sam glances back up at her, eyes shut and arm crossed to cover her chest and it feels like a kick in the stomach. He purposely slows his hand, and her eyes open.

Before she can choke out another plea, he leans over her again, pressing his lips to hers gently, slowly building up his hand’s pace as he feels her sigh heavily. His chest thuds as he takes the time to memorise the softness of her lips, acknowledging that this might be the only time he gets to be so soft with her. It breaks his heart- another unforseen circumstance.

Her stomach flutters as he kisses her, the unexpected softness of it making more tears prick at her eyes as he works her closer to her peak. She moves her arm from her chest back to his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

After a moment, he moves from her lips, gently licking and pecking at each bruise and break in her delicate skin, relieved that there's no more purple, but unable to shake the guilt as he mutters apologies interspersed with each break for breath.

She squeezes his hand back, her whole body tensing.

His mouth traverses lower; down her sternum, all the way to her lower abdomen, until he reaches the tops of her thighs, where tacky quickly turns to wet as he moves lower still. Her breath catches as his eyes lock onto hers, and her lips part slightly, a subtle invitation, or perhaps merely surprise, but it's enough to keep him rooted, suspended between action and restraint as he feels himself salivate. In that silence, he waits, desperately vying for the smallest sign of consent.

She winces, her body aching as it waits for release, but she doesn't break eye contact. Instead, she takes a deep breath, and her fingers, trembling, unhook from his and reach out to rest on his jaw, her thumb brushing lightly against his lower lip. It's so brief and gentle it almost feels imagined. Yet, it's there— an undeniable gesture that heats his blood- organically, this time; He tastes them both on her skin and fuck, it's nothing short of heavenly.

He swallows, eyes flitting around, learning the sight of her by heart before looking back up at her. He licks again and his cock twitches.

With a mixture of reverence and hunger, he closes the distance between them, movements measured and purposeful, each stroke of his tongue filled with a tenderness that belies all of the turmoil eating away inside him.

Her grip on his hair tightens as she sighs up to the ceiling. He loses a little restraint as she breathes out his name, begging him for more, and small, neat licks turn more rabid when his hand wraps around his shaft. He pumps himself with the same intensity as his tongue as it works in and out of her, his soft groans making her hips buck into his mouth as her breaths become more shallow.

She moans- cracked and raspy with exhaustion- at the feel of his lips, his nose, his tongue licking and sucking and savouring the satiating nectar dripping from between her trembling legs. His tongue broadens to gather and swallow before alternating to target her clit with the tip, wet and hot as he laps and swirls and buries in and around her. He tightens his fist around his cock, causing her stomach to roll as he moans into her- it's sloppy and messy and downright vulgar, but there's something so enamouring about his enthusiasm. His forearm wraps under her thigh, pulling her tight against his mouth as he grows closer to another climax of his own, and she gasps and arches even closer.

"Fuck, Sam-I, I'm-" she can feel him looking up at her as she struggles to string a sentence together, using the sight of her to coax his own pain-numbing, breathtaking orgasm. He moans, stimulating her tenfold as he releases warm ropes onto himself, his eyes rolling back as he near-suffocates against her.

He keeps going, and going, even when he lets go of himself to grip her stomach and pin her down- and she almost chokes, unable to breathe as she's utterly overwhelmed by the pleasure and the raw, visceral feelings for him that stabs relentlessly into her heart. She feels the pain raking its way through her body dissipate with each second that goes by.

He's so good. So fucking handsome.

She finally comes, a warbled cry trapped behind her teeth as her eyes squeeze shut and a rapturous wave of coolness floods her body. It's overwhelming- asphyxiating, even; tears streaming, fingers knotting rougher into his curls as he holds her tightly in place, devouring her through and past her climax. He takes and takes and takes-- shit, he loves this.

"S-sam,"

He loves this.

"Agh- Sam, pl- stop-"

He loves this. He fucking loves this- her. He- he loves-

She yanks hard enough on his hair that he's forced away from her with a pained hiss, gasping heavily like he hasn't taken a proper breath in minutes, his entire face from the bridge of his nose down glazed and glistening. He looks so pretty. She aches.

His eyes traverse, conflicted and somewhat melancholic from her thighs, up to her face, and she sees that he's... crying too. It's alien to her. What has she done to him?

She holds his gaze, her own eyes red-rimmed and tear-filled. The regret feels like a physical ache in her chest, mingling with the remnants of aftershock and the soreness between her legs and all over her broken skin across her thigh and décolletage. Despite the excruciating shame, she wants to reach out, to tell him that it's okay, that they had both been caught in the same storm. But the words don't come.

Instead, she sits up ever so slightly, wincing as she scoots closer, their bodies brushing as she nervously pulls his head to her shoulder; a tentative, fragile gesture, but she hopes it speaks volumes nonetheless. He stiffens at first, but eventually relaxes, his arm scooping beneath her to hold onto her gently.

She cradles his head against her, staring at the ceiling with tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. The physical pain was dulled now, but the emotional ache was fierce. She had never fantasised it being like this, tainted by necessity and confusion, and she doesn't know what to do. It's suffocating.

For a moment, they both just breathe, soaking in the sickly, unfiltered aftermath of the whole ordeal.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours—they've lost all sense of time in this weird fucking space where the boundaries have been irreparably corroded. They're cold. Exhausted. Emotionally bare. And now he feels like a damn coward, letting her stroke his hair and cradle him against her chest, after all he's put her through. He grits his teeth in an attempt to keep his watery eyes from spilling over.

But the attempt fails, and he hates how uncharacteristic this is. Screw this place. Screw Cassimir. Screw their client, screw his own greed that brought them here in the first place, and screw- fucking screw her for taking away his ability to remain a husk- and for letting him hurt her.

Finally, she pulls back as she feels her skin dampen and his shoulders jolt ever so slightly, her hand forcing his chin up. Her eyes search for him, and in that moment, she fully takes it in, and sees what she hopes to be the same fear, the same shame, and yet, the same insane level of care that has gnawed at her heart for so long.

Sam opens his mouth to speak as her brows furrow, but no words form, let alone come out, aside from a pathetic, choked sigh that hints at the tumult of emotions stirring inside him. His tongue rolls over his lip, and the lingering taste of them has him shudder and shut his eyes.

He can’t bring himself to look at her, the shame too sickening, too palpable. But then, as he pulls away, getting up to his knees as he fumbles with his jeans, he feels her hand on his arm, steadying him. He looks down, and in her eyes, he doesn't see pity, or accusation, but- and for a second he considers pinching himself- understanding, a non-verbal acknowledgment of his vulnerability.

Delicate and trembling, her fingers reach up to touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw as if to reassure herself that he is real, that this moment, however fleeting and fraught with confusion, was real. At least she'd have it stapled to her memory. Sam closes his eyes at her touch, a self deprecating huff leaving his lips. He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to her palm; a silent apology and a desperate plea for reassurance that she's actually thinking what he hopes she is. He even hazards a look to her thigh for any sign of coercion from the drug still coursing through her, but there's no purple in sight.

She reaches one of her arms above her head, just about reaching her shirt. She grunts in disgust, the material sodden, and she drops it back down with a shaky huff, the room's frigid temperature finally having an effect once more.

Sam pushes himself up again, rubbing his damp cheeks with the back of his hand as a sense of normalcy seeps back into his senses. And with that normalcy, grief.

He finds his t-shirt, quickly sliding it over his head despite the excess of sweat and bodily fluid covering both his skin and the material. He grimaces as it clings to him, and she watches on with a poignant shiver, pulling her knees to her chest after adjusting her soaked-through underwear, her boots scraping against the ground as she does so.

He clears his throat, picking up his plaid overshirt from where he'd discarded it earlier before looking over his shoulder at her as he pulls the sleeves through the right way.

Someone has to speak sooner or later, she thinks, but can't bring herself to. Her nails scratch nervously at her skin as she weighs up what to do, trying not to cry at the prospect of Sam's walls being rebuilt so fast after pouring everything- mind, body, soul- into her moments ago. She feels so naive- so fucking silly-

“What was it you said earlier?”

Her head shoots up as he speaks, caught off guard by how much he sounds like his usual self. Charming, cocky, collected.

She tilts her head slightly, her eyebrows drawing together and her eyes narrowing in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Her lips part just enough to show she's on the verge of speaking, but she holds back, waiting for his next words to clarify the moment.

He extends his shirt out to her, lips quirking into a soft, somewhat reassuring smile. She looks at him for a moment, taking the shirt and putting it on.

“Somethin’ about an HR department?”

She looks at him, a soft laugh fluttering to the surface. It's a quiet sound, tinged with shyness and still wrapped in the lingering sadness of their shared ordeal. Her eyes lower for a moment, the weight of everything that happened settling in.

Seeing her reaction, Sam gets up and moves to where her water flask lies discarded. He unscrews the cap and pours some onto a clean part of his t-shirt. She begins to button her shirt, but he stops her, silently asking for a moment longer.

“Can I?”

She lets go of the shirt, and with gentle, still slightly shaky hands, he dabs the wet cotton softly over her wound-ridden skin.

She watches him, the sadness in her eyes gradually giving way to something softer, his tenderness speaking volumes. As he continues to tend to her wounds, his mouth twists in thought, like there's something he wants to say. So he does.

“I'm sorry.”

He's not the type to apologise, so eye contact is impossible.

“What?”

He continues dabbing at her skin in silence.

“Sam.”

She covers his hand, stopping him from finding any other distraction.

“You didn't ask for this."

He frowns. “I- I just put you through… somethin’ not far off of assault, and your response is-”

“No. Not one part of that was assault-”

“She says, as I wipe up blood from bites I gave her.”

“Yeah, with the mouth that's covered in my cum.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but he can't find anything to say. His cheeks redden.

She sighs again. They're going in circles and she wants to put an end to it all- she's tired. Filthy. Possibly concussed. Which she uses to excuse what she does next.

“Can I try something?” she asks. Fuck it.

“Try what?"

Without another word, she steps closer, her eyes searching for any sign of protest. When she finds none, she leans in and kisses him, her lips soft and warm against his, holding none of the desperation or haze of their previous encounter, completely free from the influence of any perverted pill or potion.

What's she got to lose?

Sam is shocked at first, his body tensing. He instinctively pulls her off, his eyes flitting around her face as his jaw loosens and tightens in search of something to say.

Her heart sinks and she steps back, “Thought so,” she smiles sadly, backing away, knowing it was a mistake to try. "Can we... can we get out of here?"

He should hate himself, right? He's gone against everything he's ever stood for- let every non-committal brick he's built since teenagehood crumble to dust. He's gone soft. Sentimental. By force, to begin with, yet he still hasn't stopped himself. It's… Pleasant. Is this the balance Cassimir fetishised over?

Screw it, he decides, Because if he has to stand by and watch her grow apart from him when she's just shown the same as- if not more vulnerability than him, what use are a few walls?

He pulls her back, his lips finding hers again. This time, it's different- there’s no urgency, no magical compulsion, but rather something deep- genuine. The kiss is tender, filled with all the emotions they’ve been too afraid to voice, and he feels years worth of tension escape him. His sore muscles loosen, hands cupping her face softly, and she melts into him.

When they finally pull apart, their foreheads rest together, and this alone feels infinitely more intimate than anything that had transpired beforehand.

"So... is it safe to assume that we're both on the same page, or...?" She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper, but her usual playfulness breaks through, and it makes him smile.

"What, that we're both in dire need of some good laundry detergent and a shower? Or was there somethin' else on your mind?"

She snorts, gently kicking his shin, the enormity of months worth of repressed feelings finally worn on the proverbial sleeve. She takes a deep breath, the worry in her eyes softening as she looks at him.

"We have a lot to figure out."

He chews the inside of his lip contemplatively, still not entirely sure there’s any reason why she’s being so gracious. So calm, despite it all, like he deserves any of it.

There’s a beat.

And then he nods. Because that’s why she makes his entire psyche shift off-kilter- makes him notice his bad habits.

"We'd… uh, better cash those vials in."

She sees a million-and-one thoughts behind his eyes, but he needs to rest. So she waits, head tilted, suspecting he's got something else to add.

"How else am I supposed to afford a five-star first date?"

The other million thoughts can wait.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

I promise to write something short and funny next time x

#sam drake #uncharted #sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #will add more tags when i've slept probably maybe lol

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nathandrakeisabottom · 29 days ago

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What Lovers Share: Nathan Drake x Reader

Summary: Nate tells you historical fun facts while you warm his globes. Huevos in French. Besties who just happen to enjoy swapping spit. Warning: Explicit. C*ck-warming, B*ll-suckin', B*kkake, C*m-eating, historical fact jumpscare, ***, ***, ***, f*ck Tumblr censorship.

“You, uh… you happy down there?” Nathan goads warmth with a tender smile, holds a book in one hand and your cheek in the other, smile lines kind and traced in the barest flicker of demurity. He forces his eyesight back to script before your answer; his nerves obviously need distraction when your request needles beyond nudity. A proposition you had dreamed of since Nairobi.

He’s warm and gooey, and you respond with no treat, no reply but your tongue laving soft around the shape in your mouth. You love him in here. You always have. To the point of obsession, mindless, ravenous, lazy and dumb, you beg him when he claims there’s no time. He’s gross down there right now. Sam’s around, he’ll catch you two. And he won’t survive a goddamn minute if they just let him wander wild for however long she eats: a lonely little girl lapping and suckling his baby brother’s balls like the last water left on Earth.

Only because the iodine got lost in the shipwreck, you snort in facetious rationale to yourself.

But there’s no shortage of time, of air for gasps and moans when you gently pull back, and tug with your lips wrapped softly around, eyelashes fluttering dotingly up at him. He makes you feel like a dog— an overeager puppy begging for attention. Touch me. Pet me. Play with me. Let me taste you.

Let me make you feel something.

You snap to when his graveling baritone soothes over your shoulders in a hiccuping wave.

“Y-You know, you make me nervous when you’re this quiet.”

Your pussy stokes a fire, squeezes tight when he speaks. You know. And you like.

And you draw out further when you nuzzle deeper to suckle the fold of skin between his balls. Brush the tip of your nose teasingly along the underside of his shaft, just in the way you know he likes. You run races like tortoises and suck him so gently that he mewls in a breathy chuckle diluted of comedy and even less oxygen. Nerves. A man whose own pleasure still frightens him.

“Heh. But… uh, something tells me you like me when I’m nervous.”

Whose own weakness still surprises him with every day you wring it from your touch.

“Fucking def-in-it-lee.” You pop from your purpose below just to tell him, gasps in much needed breath and your joined spit still tangling below your lip. You damn held it in for long enough.

He laughs so beautifully at that, handsome features splitting open into intricate crows feet and pink, plump, pretty lips into grins. You love the way he smiles. You love the way he laughs— and you make sure to detach to smother it as fast as possible. This irony is not lost on you.

It’s a slobber at this point. But Nathan only meets you harder and clutches the back of your neck with a warm, meaty palm. Tugs you into him; isn’t afraid of anything. Big, gentle hands with strong grip that cradle your love and usher his second ball in your mouth everytime the first accidentally pops out.

“Why don’t you tell me some fun facts, smart cookie?” You tack a wet kiss to his cheek when he finally allows you to break. “You know how much I love the sound of your voice.”

“Oh.” And his residual shyness has your mouth watering. It always does, his heart baring open like rushing spring water and making you hungry for more. To sacrifice for his every satisfaction. “Sure thing… got any requests?”

But you’re already back home before your answer even grows wings. Glinting skin and bubbles popping wet where veins thread like delicate, splindling cracks in a pane of glass venture past your lips. You lost restraint forty five minutes back. There is no shame in your love. Your devotion. You’d suck him all day if you could: splashing South African summer heat in translucent coats down your cheeks, hollowed out in every place you’ve decided he deserves to have tighter. Harder. Wetter. Better.

He shudders. His hand abruptly clamps onto your own.

But no… lighter this time. Softer. Sweeter. He’s sensitive, especially down here, so you tread gentler paths with the tip of your tongue lapping in tickling hints, and his skin pulls up and up and up in adorable wrinkles with the motion. His taste: addictive. There once was a time when you would tease and complain at the oceanic sting, full body dips when he grew too lazy to tie the boat closer to shore and ‘Shit, it’s a hot one! A jump in the water sounds perfect.’ Without even bothering to take his clothes off first.

“Did you know that—” He wets his lip, a flicker, the tender pink point of his tongue. “Um…”

But those days are no more. Now, it’s a quest, a joy, a desperation to clean him. Everyday, you beg to. Please, Nathan, please let me clean you. It looks so lonely. I want it warm. I want it shiny. I want it inside where it’s safe. Where no one else can take it from me. And now, there’s a parameter for how long is not long enough. You don’t stop until you no longer taste the tang of sea against his skin. Not until he’s clean. It’s your duty.

It’s your devotion to him.

“Heh—” He recovers with a hand to your cheek and a kiss to his palm. You remind him there is no difference, only sensual circumstance. You asked for this. Prayed for this. “Did you know that Thomas Edison didn’t actually invent the lightbulb?”

…What?

“Hm?!” You squeak from your station. He chuckles in reply.

“I know, right?!” His words jeer agastedly, giddily, eyes twinkling. “Isn’t that crazy?”

Giggles form in place of a needless answer. The things he says, the way he is, even his desire for a reply at all, to hear your voice beside his own: they only make you want to please him more. Wetter. Tighter. Better.

Man, that shit’s crazy.

History is so cool.

“It was actually Warren de la Rue, almost f-forty years before Edison…”

You swoon into his wet folds and he stutters when you settle into the warmth, the wet. The place you call home. You love your man; fucking sue me. Hungry palms wrap ‘round the meaty, milky skin of his thighs without warning, toasted sun-kissed tan like roasted smores in between campfire kisses, soft nudity and plains begging for hickies.

“He was just the one who p-perfected and p-p-patented it.” His cheeks swelter over roasting red when you lean further to tongue at the soft skin of his perineum, stutters for air in a swiftly fogging tent you both refuse to unzip. You like the way your love changes the color of his skin. “S-something about bamboo fiber…”

“That’s amazing, baby.” But your lips are already back on his before he can elaborate amongst filaments and time periods. You swiftly ponder if he can taste his own precum on your kiss. A deeper press, a swift curl of your tongue against his, slobbery and wet, salty and sweet. Just to up your chances. Every fact he shares your way, every sense you share in return. “You’re so fucking smart.”

And you worship his body in the only interruptions you find no shame in speaking.

He moans thick and molten below you when you wrest one hand around his neck, the other around his shaft. Force him to keep kissing you in the minute space where he tries to break for air. And your pussy clenches around nothing but the imaginary when he groans in place of resistance of another. The control and capture his every delicate sound inspires beat your man to dust.

You wring your wrist around his head, and he chokes out despairingly.

“Honey… Do you want me to—?” He’s finally able to split, chest heaving hard against your own, your mouth itching to taste its suffocating heat, his collarbone beading with sweat, pleasing arcs in place of jewelry. An answer feels pointless.

“Yes-yes-of-fucking-course-I-do-are-fucking-kidding-me—” But you give him what he wants, anyway. His mouth tinges in laughter.

Because you always give him what he wants.

He makes it impossible not to.

“I fucking love you.” His lips meet yours head-on, but this time, starvation sets in. You two gasp and bite and tear right through each other. His fingers fly to the back of your neck, his arms swallowing your body into his. And you twist your purpose further down so the world knows who he belongs to.

You’re not sure if it’s the sweat, the humidity, his taste, or simply your own gaping awe that requires your wrist high to collect a drool of spittle when you first watch it bloom. Red and raw and beautiful, just like him. A single placed hickey.

You both decided unspoken that Sam could fucking deal with seeing them. Just jealous he’s not getting them, too.

“Oh, hun.” You swear it’s your entire fucking soul that swoons when Nate’s voice resounds, little trembles like tinkling glass. He breaks beneath your touch. “My precious, little angel.”

Your tongue darts across the sharp slant of his neck before delving in for seconds. He’s so pretty, and so perfect, and so… free. Your heart can’t stand it. You’re not strong like he is. And so a second bruise quickly joins the first: higher this time, the crux of his jaw. Proof, ownership, protection. You love him too much to leave him empty, markless, unwon. There is no strength in the love you have for him.

He cries, breath releasing hot against your cheek when you roll and nestle his sack into your palm. It’s still wet with spit, stuck with sweat in every place your chin dipped a little too low. Your thumb smoothes straight down the middle, presses into his skin like a thumbprint. His whines make your mouth water against every mark. Pink, red, purple, yellow. The ones you left on his sternum on Monday, the couplings beside each nipple on Sunday, magenta on his folding tummy, yellow and pink alike on the insides of his thighs.

You kiss each and over again. An encore. A map.

I belong here.

“Honey…” He sings so sweet. His grip, his thumb grazing at the base of your neck even as you ease back down to lave your lips over his skin. He’s heavy below. Full and warm. You’ve tasted him dozens of times before; and you know he’s a giver. You instinctively flinch from your spot below in wild anticipation when he thrusts in briefly-presumed release. Despite the shy bastard being too polite to ever try it.

But tonight, you swear you’ll remedy.

You twist left to sink your teeth into the plush skin of his thigh, swallow Wednesday’s accompanying bruises like fresh berry, and he bucks masochistically.

And you’d give more, you’d brand him with your fucking name if you could. If he could so forgive. In every place you call him yours.

“W-w-where do you want it?” This time it’s his hand that changes for your own on a jerking ring around his shaft. He bears a teasing pace, even as his fingers clearly twitch for more. His second hand comes to cradle your head when you return, and you twist quick to press another grateful kiss into his palm before he replaces it. He’s an instinctual nurturer at the best of times: his touch warm and steady. And somehow, despite every insanity, every pitfall, every obnoxious joke and even more obnoxious beauty— he grounds you. He keeps you safe.

He’s home.

You want him to brand you, too.

“Anywhere.” You mumble with his gifts in my mouth. Your answer is a lie.

“A-anywhere?”

Even in sex, he’s the same: searching for answers, proof. But he doesn’t stop jerking himself, quick and smooth, whining as he cups his hand across your cheek and thumbs over where the corner of your lip drools. Holds you where he wants you. You plead you already know where he wants it.

“God-you’re-so-pretty.” It’s fucking heaven he speaks. Your pussy throbs, fucking sings; you feel the wetness through your poor excuse for shorts. The ones you wear for him. Minimal coverage so he has more room to pull the stripe of stitch of fabric aside whenever he needs it. You love him, you love him, you love him, you love him. “So-fucking-pretty.”

And so you are cruel to him. You clamp monstrous nails into his pink, plush skin and keep him trapped, grounded, no way from escape, from shame, from want when you speak—

“Nathan, please—” “Sh-shit—!”

But of course, in your time of need, you both interrupt in the same mundane way you always do. You look up with love. He jerks himself empty. And he’s coming hard across your face before you can even give him permission to do it.

Four times. Four begs til’ he finally obeyed your pleas: a fucking record. Fucking finally. To be branded by him. And even as the warmth and wet slathers over the bridge of your nose, your forehead, the cusp of your hairline where blonde meets brunette, you’re not thinking of how dirty it is. How guilty and hysterical he’ll certainly be about it afterwards. How you have no fucking clue how you’re going to be able to sneak all the way down to the river to wash up without being caught by a Shoreline guard.

But instead, as you move further down to wet his balls in grateful kitten-licks, and desperately pursue his prolonged pleasure, you’re only swimming in the hazy and the humid— in the impossible idea that someone so pretty could think you were pretty, too.

He huffs for air, eyes squeezed shut, body quivering and thighs shaking, even as you hold them down. His voice breaks even, beautiful, only makes clearer the stark, pretty lines of his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. He’s always so pretty.

And only prettier— your heart wrests in affection bordering on pain— when he forces his eyes back open just to watch you. The way he releases his only sound of pleasure, shyness submissing beneath that beautiful voice you love so much, it almost makes you believe:

“...Wow.”

That someone so lovely could think you were lovely, too.

As if the sight of your own devotion surprises him.

Then again— you think as his trembles begin to slow, your kisses ease the highward trail up his chest— he’s always surprised. Because his deepest gift has always been uncovering— every day, before every map, every sunburn, every bruise you’ve placed— another hidden reason to love the world. And he’ll never go unsatisfied, unfed again.

Thomas Edison didn’t invent the lightbulb. Nate only knows that because he loves.

His movements finally come to a certain stop, and all the oxygen he’s must’ve ever breathed in his life comes rolling out. One last dying gasp before he registers your mouth hovering before his. His eyes: desperately blue. His lips: pink and shiny, no longer lonely, your heart pangs swooningly, purposefully. And his fingers reach to cradle your jaw, steer you into a brutally romantic, death-defying, earth-shattering—

He twists your face away at the last second, so where you expect his lips upon yours, you are instead met with his tongue down your cheek.

Another stripe. Wet and clinging. And your pussy throbs manic with want. Because he’s cleaning you.

He’s eating his own cum off you.

And you get to taste it together when he finally plunges you forward into a kiss, grip steady behind your neck, heart racing against your own. His other thumb mindlessly smears the leaking remnants of spit and cum down your chin and presses his lips to yours. Passionate, aching, hungry. And you share. You always share everything.

“Fuck, that was soooo hot,” You gasp once you part for air.

But Nathan isn’t thinking about a need for air, not even at all. Because the first words that leave his lips:

“Your turn.” Without even a pause in-between.

You’re already falling back into nylon before your thighs are immediately yanked apart, and your seeping shorts, those god-damn nearly non-existent shorts, the tan ones he’s already stained with a frantic quickie and a near-hysterical apology (they were one of your favorites; they still are) and you’ve had to cuff even higher to hide, are torn down your legs.

And when next you come— with the adorable, pink flat of his tongue and his affectionate eyes gazing up from my horizon— the only thoughts that cross my mind are how deeply you love him.

How deeply he shares with you.

And how he makes you feel something.

#uncharted #nathan drake #nathan drake x reader #uncharted 4 #uncharted 4: a thief's end #uncharted x reader #my work #another super old piece if any folks out there need some soft sweet lovin (I know I do </3)

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impala-dreamer · 2 years ago

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Coming Soon to Patreon -

Here's a glance at what's coming up on Patreon:

Remember, for only $3 a month, you get access to hundreds of fics never published anywhere else, and a brand new one every single Monday. Not to mention, a special invite to a private discord group, contests, requests, and so much more!

~Strange things are brewing in Connecticut, so Dean and Y/N go check it out. After stumbling through town, they fall into something that's been going on a very, very long time. Can they put an end to the bloodshed and make it out unscathed or will they need a little help this time?~

Starring Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/L/N

Featuring Cameos by Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod, and OCs

21,500 Words - 13 Chapters

Series Warnings Include: NSFW. Magic. Angst. Captivity. Mentions of Pregnancy/Pregnancy Talk, Sex. Oral. Threesomes, Slavery, Murder, Blood, Not really all that graphic, honestly. NonCon/DubCon, Bickering. Also lots of love and fluff.

~Sometimes, the person you fight alongside is also the person you with the most. And sometimes all that fighting is hiding other feelings, other desires...~

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

2615 Words

Warnings: Frenemies to Lovers. Talk of hunt gone wrong. Mentions of blood. Angsty fighting. Sexy kissing. PG-13. Young, cocky Dean.

~During a break in her convention schedule, Y/N seeks some peace and quiet but ends up with far more than planned.~

Drake Rodger x Fem!Reader

2,243 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Mutual Masturbation, Age Gap, (Reader is in her late 30s), Fluffy, Sexy, Yummy Smluff

~John Winchester has a hard life and an even harder time keeping his mind off of young Y/N.~

John Winchester x Fem!Reader, Dean Winchester

1,998 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Age Gap, Masturbation, Longing

~Alone and unprepared, Y/N goes to collect Dean from the bar and convince him to come home. Sam says he has a cure, and she'll be damned if she doesn't at least try to get Dean on board...~

Demon!Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel

6,331 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Angst, Smut, Demonic Charm, Fingering and Fucking, Mild Violence, Canon Everything, Choking During Sex, Choking not during sex, Lose of consciousness, Yada Yada

A Story from the YOU Universe

~Joe finds himself getting too close to one of his grad students and he fights the urge to fall completely.~

Joe Goldberg (Jonathan Moore) x F!Reader

5,019 Words

Warnings: NSFW.

#john winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #drake rodger x reader #Joe Goldberg x reader #coming soon #patreon

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visionsofmagic · 2 years ago

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𓇻 day 2 of fic days [masterlist] 𓇻

◜ wet but hot. [nathan drake x f!reader x sam drake] ◞

― video game: uncharted 4: a thief’s end

― summary: trying to find a magnificent treasure, you want help of drake brothers but they give you more than a hand, something more you could not imagine.

― wc: 5.8k

― warnings&tags: fluff, nsfw, minors dni!, explicit language, cursing, touching, licking, kissing, biting, oral [f receiving], cum, threesome, loving, hugging, being in river, insecure!reader [for a moment], gentle!nathan, rough!sam, jerking, more in the fic. enjoy <3

° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × ° × °

drake brothers. it was all on your mind since you began to work on a mission together; finding a magnificent treasure in an ancient town that was on an island, having so many rivers and trees around. it was far away from eyes, having a little danger but huge columns around the "x" marked place on the map, so, you needed strong partners in crime to fulfill this mission. choosing famous brothers, drake brothers, you met them to ask whether they would like to come with you or not, of course sharing the treasure you would find.

liking the plan and treasure, and trusting sullivan's approval on you, they agreed to come. and well, it was going all well 'till your eyes changed their focus from treasure to drake brothers who were not helping at all with their, well, some flirting attitudes; nathan was innocent, trying to being friend with you while sam was more flirty than his brother, having no shame.

all these moments you shared with brothers made you more delicate about them since their places on your life became bigger. they were so fun, so handsome, so attractive, so cute, so broken - you could say so many things about them and this was the problem; having them on your mind and heart for such a long time now and a month you have spent together had to increase. the treasure was hard to reach, so, you needed a new plan, a good one. so, you said you needed to calm down a little bit, gain strength again, having fun moments in the island.

drake brothers agreed again, giving you time to find a livable place to stay in around the island to take breath between the plans. they needed it to gain their power back while you needed it to come to your senses. they were your friends, only friends, and liking two of them at the same time was impossible. it was even a sin to have because no, you should not have them on your heart. maybe one, but not two because it wasn't understandable thing.

"here," you put your bag down on the grass, pointing out a house beside the clean river. the house's inside was ordered and as clean as possible, a livable place for like two or three days. "we can stay in here. it is close to the river; water and bath supply."

"yes!" sam spoke first while looking at the river, taking a cigarette from his pocket with a lighter, "I really need to clean this fucking dirt from my body."

"hey!" nathan warned the way his brother talked but you already got used to it.

"it's okay nat, he is right. we all need a bath." kneeling down, you got your bag back, "you go first, I will clean the house as good as I can."

nathan already made his way into house too while sam was smoking, looking at you. if he knew how his eyes were making you all shy just like that.

"I will help. sam can go alone."

you tried to say it was okay but he just nodded, making you shut your mouth because you knew how much gentleman he was. smiling to him, you said, "thanks."

as you were about to enter the house, sam's playful voice came from behind you, taking your and nathan's attention to him. "well, you do what you need to there and then, we can all go together. it can be dangerous."

"are you afraid?" you joked, not paying attention to the first part that much.

"no, honey, I do not. but you can. so, I will wait for you."

furrowing one eyebrow, you thought about his offer and realized what he meant by that. "you really did not offer that we all," you showed all of your with your hands, "three of us will bath together, right?"

sam smirked and nathan looked at him with all red face, same as you.

taking another breath of his cigarette, leaving the smoke, he said with a smirk on his face, "will you like me to offer that hon?"

with blushed face, you turned to house's direction, "dumbass."

you knew sam's smirk widened without looking at his face. entering the house, you left him behind and you could hear nathan's foot steps behind you, letting his bag a table on the first floor.

"good choice." he left a whistle, impressed of your choice.

smiling to him, you nodded, "I hope cleaning will not take long. I really want to rest." moving left and right, you planned where to begin, giving enough supplies to nathan too that you picked from the truck you had, you began to clean the dust on the couch and carpets that were dusty but were good enough to sit on or even sleep on.

"oh, crap!" the voice you heard behind made your turn to nathan who covered in all dust because of taking a carpet from the wall.

he was so clumsy. it was cute.

chuckling at him, you touched his arm to take his attention on you, "go and bath in the river cutie." he blushed, "it's okay. I will do it alone."

nathan looked uncertain, "are you sure? I still can help and we can go -" he stopped suddenly, "ugh, we can go to the river but well separately, I mean."

looking him with a red face, you gulped, understanding what he was referring to. like sam, he was suggesting to go to the river together but unlike sam, he said it would be separate, you wouldn't bath together.

"do you want it?" you asked about of sudden, not using your brain at all in that moment. crap! - you cursed inside your head. "I mean, do you want to bathe separately, not together." you left a nervous chuckle.

he put his hand on his neck, caressing it slowly, looking everywhere except you, "it can be nice, yes, I want that. it's just a normal bathe, isn't it?"

° ° °

no, it wasn't. it wasn't normal at all!

sam who came to the river before you left his all clothes on a stone. he was all naked, clearly, and he was leaning towards a stone that was around the river, putting his both arms to it by opening them widely. looking at the sky, he was smoking. his exposed chest had wounds that you wanted to touch them, heal them while your fingers travel on them one by one. you wondered how it would feel like to do that while he was telling you the stories from his previous adventures. however, the idea went as it came because it was impossible for you to reach that dream.

you felt guilty because you were having fantasies with sam drake but you couldn't help thinking how nathan looked cute while trying to understand how you two would bath separately, the river wasn't that big on this side. why you liked them both? it was a sin. definitely.

"look who wanted to accept my offer."

rolling your eyes, you pointed nathan who was covered in dust. "he needs a bath."

sam chuckled, looking at both of you with a mischief expression on his face. "and mommy here to bathe him?"

you who already have got used to his odd nicknames, but nathan's sudden cough made you feel odd too because he had pink cheeks. did he found the nickname - nasty? it was just a joke, right?

"don't be silly, sammy." calling him with a nickname that made you feel closer to him was good and you were saying that whenever you felt shy or so happy.

turning to nathan, you smiled gently. "don't listen to him, he was joking like always."

nathan left a 'yeah' reply but it felt like he was disappointed about something - maybe even sad.

you were about to ask but he changed the subject. "the river isn't big as I thought."

"it's okay. I will come back later."

you patted his shoulder, sending a smile. you really wanted to bathe because of feeling all sticky and dirty but you needed to come back later when drake brothers finished.

"don't be ridiculous. you two, just enter the river already."

nathan warned him immediately, "leave her alone sam. we can't push her something she doesn't want."

sam looked like he didn't like nathan's warning. furrowing an eyebrow, he looked at you. "don't you?"

you were too stunned to speak. or simply, you were afraid because of the answer. yes, you wanted to get into the river together and bringing all those nasty dreams. but you couldn't when you saw nathan's red colored face.

"sam." his name came out of your mouth so sexy even if you intended it to be sound as a warning. what was wrong with you?

his smirk grew, "c'mon darling, we aren't teenagers after all, right? we are all grown up and it simply a bathe?" he chuckled, "no one accept you to be naked completely, right nathan?"

the whole situation was so intense and you wondered how you would get over with this one at the end of the day.

turning to nathan, you tried to calm down the situation like it was really normal and sam was right. you didn't have to undress completely, you could stay with your underwear. "c'mon. let's get clean. shall we?"

nathan looked surprised, he wasn't expecting you to accept the offer. his red face was still there and you knew your face looked same as his. even if you were feeling shy, you began to remove your clothes one by one. leaving them on a stone, you saw how nathan began to undress as well.

you saw drake brothers shirtless from time to time when they needed medical treatment you give, or simply feeling hot. you got used to that moments but now, it was different. you knew sam was naked from head to toe, his boxer standing on the stone with the rest of his clothes. however, you also knew nathan wouldn't remove the boxer he had and your assumption happened to be true when you saw how he jumped into the river with a black boxer on without waiting for you, feeling so shy. he was nathan after all. he was shy even if he was being so flirty and funny with you.

when you stopped watching nathan who was swimming beautifully, the sun's rays were shining on him, giving you a great view to look at. but you needed to stop. so, you turned to yourself, removing remaining clothes of yours 'till you had only your basic looking white underwear on.

when you gained the confident back, you raised your head only to find the view on your sight; nathan was standing in the middle of the river, looking directly at you while standing on foot. his expression was intense - even passionate, having pink cheeks still. and then there was sam, the older one, standing in the same position you first came here but looking at you rather than the sky. his cigarette was gone. his half-wet long hair was flying thanks to the wind. his expression was more intense than nathan and you didn't know how to handle these both men's stares that were making you feel hotter in each minute.

as nathan turned to other side after caught, sam stayed the same and you entered the river slowly; because of both feeling shy and a little naughty, your movements were slow enough to take their attention back to you, well, nathan's one since sam's attention remained same.

firstly, your foot entered the water. making you saying a little 'ahh' under your breath because of the coldness of it. that little voice made drake brothers move a little bit without their own control. it was like an instinct.

then, slowly still, you entered the water completely 'till your foot reached the ground, leaving only your chest exposed. half of your breasts and lower parts of your body stayed under water.

you didn't want your hair get wet, not yet. so, you just began to swim carefully and slowly while drake brothers turned back what they were doing, breaking their piercing gazes on your body that made you feel so - beautiful back there. they would be death of you. soon.

swimming on the river, you let the cold water run through your skin, calming you down, giving freshness.

without getting under water, you swum, reaching the edge of the river that remained on the right side of sam who decided to continue to swim before turning back to his previous position.

taking deep breaths, drake brothers came into the vision; they were leaning towards the edges of the river like you.

"well?" sam asked, breaking the silence between three of you while he stayed on your left and nathan on the right. you on the middle.

"what?" you asked.

"it isn't bad at all to bathe together, right?"

you rolled your eyes, chuckling a little, "it isn't a bathe, sammy. we are just swimming."

"it's same for me anyway." sam said, closing his eyes.

"clearly."

closing your eyes like sam did, you left your body and mind relax with river's water that your body got used to. feeling sun's hot rays on your exposed body mixed with the fresh feeling that river was giving made you lose yourself in the moment. it was so good to be able to make the mind silent for a bit but it all changed again when the skin of yours began to tickle like the one spiderman has.

without opening your eyes, you smiled to drake brothers. "like what you see boys?"

it was a joke but it felt like a - trigger. trigger for them to be more brave. you didn't think just the question made them so brave and confident but it was the fact that two of you were close to be naked completely and sam already was.

"yes, we did. right, nat?"

sam's voice was different than before - it sounded like he wished to same more. so, you opened your eyes when nathan added, "he's just joking."

you nodded, ready to tell him it was okay but your eyes trailed nathan's gazes, only to see how he looked at your visible nipples through the thin fabric of your top due to getting wet. how did you forget that you were in the water! - you cursed yourself. however, you had to admit that both sam's voice and nathan's gazes gave you an arousal without your own control.

it was a sin, yes, but now you knew that these two were ready to take this sin too and without thinking twice, saying 'fuck it' under your breath, you decided to do whatever you wanted in this particular moment, realizing that after the mission is done you wouldn't see each other again. so, risk taking part of you was there, making you smile shyly but confidently.

"I wasn't."

that made drake brothers stunned a bit, a shocked expression appeared on their attractive faces, not believing you would say this. even sam who was speaking openly in these kinds of situations seemed shocked.

not expected your reply, nathan started to swim towards you. sam watched him carefully and you couldn't help but feel hotter with each overarm nathan took. he finally came to your side, standing beside you, he put his hands on the stones next to you. as you looked at his exposed chest, built strong and well, he said, “we can go back if you are uncomfortable and I can bring a t-shirt of mine for you.”

he was so cute and innocent but right now, you were like under the influence of an aphrodisiac that made you go crazy. now, you weren’t thinking, no, it stayed behind. now, it was time to act the way you wanted the most in previous intimate moments you had with drake brothers. “why?” you asked, tilting your head a little, “didn’t you like it? does it disturb you?”

it could be the most surprising day of nathan drake because of the increasing number of his shocked face expression. he wasn’t expecting all of these at all. it was odd but from the way his eyes’ color changed from lighter to darker ones, you knew how he was holding him back. you weren’t dumb. maybe they didn’t like you innocently, not fall in love with you but they completely liked you in their own way; not love. something else, like they were unfamiliar to this either.

nathan chose reply the question with a question. “would you like me to – like it?”

now, it was your turn to stay silent for a while before looking at sam who was smirking secretly, watching how nathan and you were so close to each other. “stop being fucking teenagers and act as the way you want.” he then approached to you, standing like nathan did but on your other side. having two hot brothers on your both sides, the heat of your body was raising. even the coldness of the water wasn’t helping. “don’t you see what she is trying little brother?” asking the question to nathan, sam put his right hand on your cheek, caressing it slowly and gently, “isn’t it right sweetheart?”

“what?” you asked, having hard time to not to close your eyes under sam’s gentle touches.

“wanting us.” it was so true. it was so fucking true. you wanted them. you wanted them so much that it was hurting. not having enough power to lie anymore, you nodded slowly, feeling shy. with a blushed face, you looked at nathan, your life saver – savior in these kinds of moments. he was your safe place. however, the sparkles on his eyes were different than before, dangerous ones. even his eyes color became darker than before under the sun.

“is it true?” nathan asked again to get a clear answer.

finally having encourage to speak aloud, you said, “yes. it is.”

while you two shared a look – an intense one that was unbreakable, sam turned to nathan, “see? I knew she wanted us. you should listen to me sooner.”

furrowing, you turned to sam, “what are you talking about?”

giving a smirk, maybe for the hundredth time in the day, he said, “nathan and I talked about how you wanted us. well,” he rolled his eyes, “nathan kept saying how it wasn’t innocent to think in such way about you but you see,” he put his hand on nathan’s shoulder, shaking him a little, “my brother has a liking on you. he has his own – fantasies as well.”

“sam!” nathan warned him with a shout while you were all in shock, not believing sam fully, you turned to nathan.

“nathan,” you touched his cheek to make him look at you. he raised his eyes from the surface of water to your face, “is it true?” he just nodded and this was sufficient for you to smile – to have explosions on your chest with knowing that not only you but they wanted this too. caressing his cheek like sam did to you, you said, “then, what is the meaning of waiting?”

connecting your lips together, you felt euphoria. his lips on yours, his warmness on yours, he all over you was the thing you body ached so much but now, finally reaching it, everywhere on your body found pure passionate. losing yourself with nathan’s moving warm lips, his hands on your cheek and neck, you forgot about sam drake ‘till he made his presence remarkable again with using his talented mouth, beginning to kiss your free shoulder and neck slowly that turned into biting, leaving marks the placed he was biting and licking.

moaning into nathan’s mouth, you had no longer mind the pink or red colors on your face and body. shyness was still there but it left its huge place to a nasty – a naughty one that was seeking for its cure; nathan’s and sam’s hungry touches.

with your little moans, nathan became more daring; beginning to touch your breasts through the thin fabric of your top. sam then pushed nathan a little bit, “my time to taste these pretty lips.” from the beginning, it was clear that he was the talking type in the intimate moments. nathan left your lips unwillingly, but after finding his new interest; your breasts, he left sam alone who didn’t wait for you to take breaths before kissing you roughly. unlike nathan whose kissing was gentle and loving, sam was kissing you roughly enough to leave your lip hurting a little. nathan was trying to show his loving side while sam was showing his possessive side.

as this whole thing went further with each closer touch, you came to conclusion that difference of drake brothers was a blessing. you both had rough and gentle sides of them while forgetting about everything – even wrinkled skin of yours due to being in the water for such a long time.

the moment sam found your aching pussy that was hungry for a touch – for an action because of the all kiss, licking, and touching of drake brothers stayed on left and right sides, you left a louder moan. the moan even you were surprised to let out took nathan’s attention while sam’s fingers were working on your clothed pussy.

“you are so beautiful.” nathan said, caressing your neck while his other hand squeezing one of your breasts. feeling so loved and enjoyed, you allowed nathan to take your top and sam to take your panties, leaving you all exposed.

both of them stayed still for a second, watching how your exposed body moved in the water with intense gazes. you felt shy again but sam became savior of yours this time, pointing the grass behind you that looked comfy with its abundant flowers, “we should get out before freezing.” he caressed your chin with his fingers, smirking, “and I can’t wait to see you completely. what you think, nathan? I believe she has a wonderful wet pussy but not because of water.” he asked his little brother who went out the water, giving you a hand to get out too. firstly, you had an insecure about showing your nude body to them. you dreamed about this moment but some devilish thoughts were still there. however, they all vanished when sam who felt your uncertainty to get out the water touched your back gently, kneeling towards your ear, “you are so beautiful and we can’t wait to see it honey. we want to see how you will stay in, well, particular positions, under this shiny sun.”

you expected nathan to speak in this way, but sam was there too for you when you felt a bad mood even in this moment. smiling widely, you kissed sam’s cheek, and left him all stunned because of sudden delicate action. holding nathan’s hand, you got out the water, leaving your exposed body on their sights.

nathan took his jacket suddenly, putting it on the ground. he left your body on that jacket. you kissed him, smiling after breaking the kiss. “you are so thoughtful nathan. I am glad. I – I really like this side of you.”

smiling shyly, nathan kissed your lips again, looking like he wouldn’t have enough of them. as his bigger body covered yours, you felt his hardened cock on your exposed pussy. realizing how he needed your touch, you put your hands on his boxer, remove it with his help, you touched his exposed cock, slowly at first but then beginning to jerk him off, making him let an audible moan, giving you proud and passionate feelings in return with a smile.

sam came to your side as well, having two condoms on his hands. so, that’s why he vanished for a second.

nathan began to kiss you while you were lying down, his cock on your hand, still jerking him off.

sam pushed his little brother again, he was nude like you do. nathan’s body was more built, having strong posture while sam’s older one stayed smaller than him but having a charismatic one. you found both of their bodies attractive and beautiful. these two brothers had specific features on their own that made you fall for them more – deeper this time.

“patience.” sam said, “first, we should give her the pleasure she deserves.”

nathan nodded, leaving your lips. he stayed on top of your body, looking at your eyes directly, “tell us what you want. oh y/n, you don’t know how much I want to touch every part of your lovely body. the beauty you have in your heart has its effects on your body too. you are so beautiful in every way.”

with pink cheeks you had, you couldn’t help but smile widely to nathan. putting one of your hands on nathan’s shoulder, you said, “you are making me feel so good nathan.”

sam added, “oh honey, we will do more than that.” he found his own place on your left side, leaving these two men’s bigger bodies cover yours. “just tell us what you want.” he kissed you while nathan’s tongue touched your breasts to kiss, lick and bite them.

moaning into sam’s mouth this time, you realized how lucky you were; not one but two of them were there for you, ready to do whatever you wanted them to do, giving all of their attentions and interests on you and your body, feeling high because of the feelings you three were feeling in the mind-blowing moment. it was a sin after all, yes, but it was worth it.

leaving your lips, sam said again, “will you tell us what you want or your little brain lost its functions because of us?”

he was right. your brain wasn’t working, not anymore, you even didn’t feel like you had one in the first place. nodding to him, you said, “I just want you – I want both of you all over. I want to feel.”

sam looked at nathan who was sucking your now sensitive nipples, leaving red marks on them like they were holding him alive. “hey, needy,” sam smirked, taking nathan’s attention, “hold her from behind. I want to taste that amazing pussy of her.”

sam’s explicit language made you all red. he was a good talker. just with his talking he could make you cum.

nathan listened his big brother, changing his position from standing on top of you to staying behind you. as his chest touched your back, his hardened cock’s tip touched your ass, both of his arms and legs hugged your body, making you feel smaller. his hot breaths hit your neck while his big palms held your breasts, caressing them with paying attention to your hard nipples. “open your legs wider.” nathan said, wanting you to open your legs wider to leave sam enough space to eat your pussy. sam positioned himself, kneeling towards your ached pussy that twitched with each step he took. when his warm tongue finally touched your pussy, entering to inside without any further permission after putting some kisses, leaving some bites and licks over here and there, he left you nothing but to moan – to scream loud enough to make you feel shy again.

while your moaning lost its control, letting out of your mouth, nathan’s hands speeded up. he began to kiss your neck and shoulder, wherever he could find to take some of your attention back to him.

when you touched sam’s long hairs, feeling its softness, you moaned more, closing your legs because of wanting more of his tongue – more of him. as his head compressed by your thighs, he left a low moan to, making your core vibrate, sending you pleasure. “sam! –“ you shouted his name. this made sam to look up, to your face. he left a smirk, then, he turned to eat your deeper this time, boosted by the moan of yours that contained his name.

nathan who probably felt jealously, held your hand, making you turn to him. the moment you turned, his lips crashed yours, kissing them passionately and intensively enough to make you cry. “nathan! –“ you screamed his name between the kisses, making him calming down a little.

“I want to hear you moan my name while I am fucking you.” nathan said, kissing your face as you closed because of feeling both so high with sam’s tongue, and so loved with nathan’s kisses.

“then, wait for your turn. it is my time to make him moan with my name.” sam bit your thigh strongly, probably leaving a mark that would stay for a few days. moaning in pain, you heard sam again, “c’mon sweetheart. show me how much you enjoy. cum.”

with that – with his bossy side, you understood his power on you; with one word, he made you cum – and some additional licking and entering your pussy deeper while holding your thighs strongly as well. “sam!”

cumming to his mouth and face, you saw how sam continued to lick your pussy through your cum, drinking every bit of it. it was a scene that wouldn’t remove from your memory; sam standing between your thighs, holding you in your place, licking and drinking the cum in pleasure.

“you don’t know how good taste you have, sweetie. I will never be tired of drinking it.”

caressing his hair, you smiled, “and I will never be tired of having you like this, samuel. it was so good.”

with your praising, he left a proud smirk, looking up to nathan’s face who was probably had an angry face in the moment. when sam was about to say something, you hushed him, turning to nathan, not wanting him to feel as left. “nathan,” you touched his hair with your other hand. “please.” you begged and he became eager to hear more, leaving all bad moods he had just now.

“please what?” he asked, kissing you again. “I can’t understand what you want if you don’t say it aloud.”

he knew what you were asking for but he needed to hear it coming out of your mouth to feel better – to feel confident again. he needed to know that you didn’t leave him alone – you wanted him like you wanted sam, maybe even more.

“I want to feel you inside me nathan. I need you.”

sam added, “give her what she needs nathan.”

nodding to you, nathan changed his position again. he lied you down again on the jacket, going on top of you. sam who stood up looked at both of you when you turned to him with a questioned expression. “I will leave you two alone this time even if how much I want to fuck that pussy of your.” he showed nathan, “my shy little brother needs to be alone with you.”

you looked to his still hard cock, “but –“

he waved, smirking, “don’t worry, you will have enough time to choke on my cock beauty. just, not this now.”

he then left you two alone. he was a good brother; he knew how nathan was sensitive in these situations, not wanting to have someone on his side while you two get this closer for the first time.

trusting sam’s choice, you looked at nathan who looked at you back.

“nathan,” you hugged his shoulder, feeling his cock on your pussy. you began to ache in pain. you needed him right now. “I am ready.” you gave him the last permission that made him to begin act.

kissing you gently one last time, he speeded up in taking actions, entering your core with his two fingers. your core was already so sensitive after sam’s eating part and nathan’s long fingers were fast and rough, like he was trying to make you forget sam and his touches. he didn’t mind share you with his brother as you understood but he wanted you to focus on him when he was touching you like this, not sam at all.

to make him calm down and feeling so great, you didn’t hold you back to moan his name, not feeling shy to be loud enough to make sam hear you. a devilish side of you wanted him to hear.

nathan’s fingers vanished, and instead of them, his thick cock entered your core slowly, getting you ready. as his cock reached to walls of your core, leaving you breathless, losing your mind and seriously this time, you screamed, “nathan! – ugh, I need – I need you to move. please,” you begged again, “please move!”

it was what nathan needed to fuck you mindlessly, helping you to reach the second climax – euphoria with his strong, deep and rough thrusts. his speed was making your thighs become red. you even closed your eyes, throwing your head behind because it was so hard to endure the both pain and great pleasure nathan was giving you to while having an expression that was showing how well he knew his and his cock’s effects on you – enjoying to watch it, having his own pleasure to finally being inside of you and making you so – pathetic, needy and greedy for his cock.

“y/n,” he left a moan, saying your name between his breaths that were hard to gain due to being in a huge pleasure that looked impossible for him ‘till this day. “you are so so – so beautiful. I dreamed about this but – I never expected it to be so – unbelievable.” he began to kiss you with the same rhythm he was thrusting, “I know that I will be addicted.” he confessed, giving your heart a warm feeling – the one you wanted to have in there for the rest of your life.

when your hands found their places on his short hair, pulling them, you used your brain for one last time, “I love you, nathan.” you confessed, not minding the consequences of it. you needed to say this – you needed him to hear.

nathan’s slowed down rhythm became speeded up again and with some last strong thrusts he gave to you, you both cum together. his body crashed against yours for some certain time to come to your senses, then, he kissed your forehead long. lying down beside you, he put your head to his chest, giving you a feeling of being protected. he kissed your hair this time, and a low voice came out of him – low but determined. “I love you too.” he then added, “sam loves you too.”

smiling to you, you said, “I love sam too.” you turned to him, “I am not sure what the future will bring within itself, but right now, I can feel the love I have for you and him, and I want to be together.” you smiled gently, “for a lifetime.”

“me too,” nathan said, “me too.”

and from that day, you three knew how a complex – even difficult life you would have but you also knew how you would stick together, endure every of them. you loved them and they loved you. it was all matter.

the end. 🍏

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daincrediblegg · 1 year ago

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OMG imagine my surprise when I look at the tags of the uncharted concept art u relogged and find out u used to have Sam as an f/o. Way back last year I watched an entire playthrough of Uncharted: A Thief’s End which resulted in me being ABSOLUTELY smitten with the character of Sam Drake, binge reading a bunch of Sam x reader fics and then here I am being reminded of that today !!

HEY NO KIDDING!!! small fucking world but YEAH MAN YEAH!!! I FUCKING ADORE SAM!!! Like honestly I fell so in love with him like god damnit... Uncharted 4 had a lot of pathos in a way that I feel like the others lacked in some way or another (hot take but I didn't grow up with the series- I only really dipped into it when I finally got a ps4 a few years ago) and seriously. I have not forgotten him. Really makes it only that much more of a shame that the series won't be back (probably) because seriously. He had so much going on I wanna see more of him! LIKE!!! HE'S SO COOL!!! HE'S NOT JUST A DUMB THEIF!!! HE'S LIKE SUPER SMART AND KNOWS HIS HISTORY GODDAMN WELL!!! HE COULD BE A PROFESSOR BUT HE ISN'T HE'S BEEN IN PRISON!!! I fucking love him. And also he's just further proof of my adoration for older fucking men. He's a dream. (and actually- I used to have a couple stickers of him on my old laptop that I just got re-printed with my terror sticker set I got recently! would've put him on my water bottle but he's too big 😭😭😭😭)

but anyway YEAH SAM DRAKE MY FUCKING BELOVED

#he's a fucking dream boat #also why did they have to make young sam look??? just?? so beautiful? unbelievable #naughty dog please I'm begging just bring back the dream team from lost legacy and give me PEACE #LIKE SERIOUSLY GIVE HIM BACK TO ME HE'S NOT FUCKING DONE!!!!!#I NEED MORE!!!!#sam drake #oh sweet man I miss him

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ao3feed-danielsousa · 1 year ago

Text

Doesn't Mean They're Lost Forever

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/iXEnM9y

by lizziesromanova

An Au set in a Marvel/Aos/Xmen universe where Y/n discovers that there have been unknown guests living in her house... and she's now determined to make everything okay for them.

Words: 16158, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, Gen

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Tessa | Sage, Jean Grey, Scott Lang, Scott Summers, Maria Hill, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Moira MacTaggert, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Raven | Mystique, Logan (X-Men), Ororo Munroe | Bloodstorm, Hank McCoy, Rogue (X-Men), Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Colossus, Bobby Drake, Jubilee, Kitty Pryde, Alex Summers, Warren Worthington II, Nathaniel Malick, Wade Wilson, Lorna Dane, Toad (X-Men), Pyro, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Vision (Marvel), Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Rhodey" Rhodes, James "Bucky" Barnes, Hope Van Dyne, Carol Danvers, Peter Quill, Rocket Raccoon, Groot (Marvel), Phil Coulson, Melinda May, Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz, Jemma Simmons, Grant Ward, Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie, Bobbi Morse, Lance Hunter, Elena "Yo-Yo" Rodriguez, Jeffrey Mace, Holden Radcliffe, Daniel Sousa, Wong (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Nick Fury

Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Reader, Pietro Maximoff/Tessa | Sage, Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, Moira MacTaggert/Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier

Additional Tags: Protective Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Lesbian Wanda Maximoff, Teen Jean Grey, Jean Grey Lives, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - College/University

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/iXEnM9y

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #daniel sousa #agent carter

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choicesficwriterscreations · 2 years ago

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Choices Crossover Fics 2023 Masterlist

✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨= Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+

January 2023

History Hates Lovers ✒️| Red Carpet Diaries / Desire & Decorum |Thomas Hunt x F!MC, Anabelle Parsons x F!MC - @peonyblossom

March 2023

Blood Moon ✒️| Bloodbound / Wolf Bride | Adrian Raines x F!Reader x M!OC - @khoicesbyk 🔥

Immortal Desires Harris (Series) | Immortal Desires / My Two First Loves Noah Harris x MC - @korgbelmont Part 5 ✒️ Part 6: Finale ✒️

May 2023

Harris A New Life ✒️| Immortal Desires / My Two First Loves |Noah Harris (MTFL) x Gabriela Adalhard (ID) - @korgbelmont

Serendipity ✒️Ⓜ️| The Royal Romance/ Open Heart | Drake Walker x MC, Bryce Lahela x MC - @deb-1106 and @walkerismychoice

Serendipity Part 2 ✒️| The Royal Romance / Open Heart | Drake Walker x MC, Bryce Lahela x MC - @deb-1106 and @walkerismychoice

In Times of Comfort ✒️| The Royal Romance / Red Carpet Diaries |Thomas Hunt x F!OC - @alj4890

Once (Series) | The Royal Romance / Red Carpet Diaries | Sam Dalton, Ethan Ramsey, Robin Flores - @peonierose Part 4 ✒️Ⓜ️

June 2023:

Angels in Hell ✒️| A Courtesan of Rome / Open Heart | Marc Anthony x MC, Tobias Carrick x MC - @boneandfur

Répondez,S'il Vous Plaît! ✒️ | Immortal Desires / It Lives | Multiple Pairings - @aallotarenunelma 🏳️‍🌈

Répondez,S'il Vous Plaît ! 2 (AU Series) ✒️| Immortal Desires / It Lives | Multiple Pairings - @aallotarenunelma 🏳️‍🌈

Dancing with Our Hands Tied ✒️| The Royal Romance / Rules of Engagement |Leo Rys x F!MC - @leelee10898

Friends with Rollerskates ✒️| Bloodbound / Open Heart | BB!F!OC and OH!M!OC - @ezekielbhandarivalleros

One Night in Cordonia (Round Robin) | The Royal Romance / Open Heart - @jerzwriter Chapter 8: All's Well That Ends Well ✒️Ⓜ️

July 2023

you’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love, shining just for you ✒️| Hot Coture & Crimes of Passion | Marco Di Vincezo x F!MC, Marguerite Thorne x F!OC - @peonyblossom

The Royal Romance, Crimes of Passion, Desire & Decorum, Blades of Light and Shadow

Shadows & Deceptions: A Royal Murder Mystery Parts 1 & 2 ✒️| Various Pairings - @storyofmychoices

Shadows & Deceptions: A Royal MurderMystery Parts 3 & 4 ✒️| Various Pairings - @storyofmychoices

The Royal Romance / Crimes of Passion / Desire & Decorum/ Blades of Light & Shadow

Shadows & Deceptions: A Royal Murder Mystery Parts 5 & 6 ✒️| Various Pairings - @storyofmychoices

Shadows & Deceptions: A Royal Murder Mystery Parts 7 & 8 ✒️| Various Pairings - @storyofmychoices

August 2023

Crimes of Passion / Nightbound

Crimes/Nightbound Drabble ✒️| Nik Ryder x MC, Trystan Thorne x MC - @lilyoffandoms

October 2023

Bloodbound/Nightbound

Disembodied (Series) ✒️| Adrian Raines x MC, Nik Ryder x MC - @mynotsohealthyobsession Part 3 (of 8)

Endless Summer/Hero

Let the Shadows Fall Behind You ✒️| Jake McKenzie x MC, ES!MC & Hero!MC - @saibug1022

November 2023

Bloodbound/Nightbound

Disembodied (Series) Part 5 ✒️ | Adrian Raines x MC, Nik Ryder x MC - @mynotsohealthyobsession

December 2023

Bloodbound/Nightbound

Disembodied - Part 6/8 ✒️| Adrian Raines x MC, Nik Ryder x MC - @mynotsohealthyobsession

The Nanny Affair/Open Heart

Once (Series) ✒️| Sam Dalton, TNA F!MC, Ethan Ramsey by @peonierose Part 5

Immortal Desires / It Lives Anthology

Jouluyö - Christmas Night ✒️🏳️‍🌈🌟| Various Pairings - @aallotarenunelma

#choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices crossover fanfic

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sicparvismorrigan · 2 years ago

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When Your Line Is Crossed - Chapter 6

Your new neighbour is pretty fit, and the walls are pretty thin…

Sam Drake/Uncharted/Post-U4

Viewpoint: 2nd person female reader

Warnings: very nsfw (this chapter not thaaat naughty)

Wordcount: ~10.5k (6 Chapters) [incomplete]

Tagging: @bluewingedangel @killergoddessmm @marshmallow--3 @mrob-dream if you want added or removed let me know!

Heavily inspired by the song I Get Off by Halestorm

Read on Ao3

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

*BANG BANG BANG*

Rhythmic thumping pulls you abruptly from your dreams. You grumble and try to drag the pillow over your head to block it out. You wouldn’t be surprised if it was Sam next door, going at it yet again.

A wave of embarrassment drowns you as you remember exactly what happened last night. The noises you made. The noises you both made. You moaned his name. When he was with someone else. That’s a line you just don’t cross.

Reaching for your phone, you notice with some relief you’ve slept in later than usual. You wouldn’t dare go out on the balcony this morning, should you bump into You-Know-Who. Maybe you can browse for a new apartment later, give notice, pack your things, leave the country, who knows?

*BANG BANG BANG*

The second time it happens you realise the noise isn’t a headboard slamming into the drywall next to you, instead it’s coming from the outside door of your apartment.

Must be the landlord. He has a habit of turning up whenever he feels like without any warning. Gas check this. Water check that. You secretly think it’s weird, a little creepy even, but you don’t want to give him any reason to bump your rent, so you smile sweetly and put up with it.

You throw on a baggy hoodie to cover yourself, in your sleep-addled state not thinking to check if it definitely is the landlord first before opening up.

“Hi, ye-“

“Morning, neighbour!” Sam greets you cheerily, grinning from ear to ear.

Instantly, you are wide awake.

“Nope!” You try to slam the door in his face, but he’s too quick for you. With barely an inch left before it shuts he blocks the opening with his boot and leans his full weight against it. You struggle briefly before realising the cheap-ass door will probably give out before he does. The man is solid.

“Aw c’mon, try harder, baby!” Sam’s laughing at your efforts. It’s all just a game to him.

I will not cave. I will not cave. Sweet talk will not work this time.

Shit why is he calling me baby now?

“What do you want?” You yell at him.

“Can I have some sugar?”

You don’t believe what you just heard. The nerve of him. Something snaps. You stop pushing back, swinging the door open wide and glaring at him. “Very funny. Is that some kind of a sick joke?”

You are so not in the mood for his sense of humour right now.

Sam turns serious in the blink of an eye when he realises you aren’t taking it well. “No, sweetheart. I genuinely need some sugar. I’m all out.”

“Hmmm...” You’re watching him suspiciously, waiting for his ‘ha, gotcha!’ that never comes.

Hard to Handle by Otis Redding is faintly drifting down the hallway towards the pair of you.

…but I can love you better than him…

“Swear it. Cross my heart.” In a way, his sincerity is worse than his humour.

“Why, because you used it all last night?” That comes out a little sharp, double meaning dripping heavily from your words.

He shouldn’t be calling you sweetheart anyway, you are clearly not his sweetheart.

“No, because this morning I made enough coffee for you too, y’know…it was kinda nice, yesterday, talking, out there, with the sunrise-“ His voice is quiet and low.

Goddammit.

“-I thought, I hoped you’d show, and then you didn’t, so I got worried.”

“You were worried about me? You barely know me.”

“Alright, alright. I guess, concerned, is maybe a better word.” Sam stops to lean against the frame. “And as for barely knowing you, I’d like to change that, if it wasn’t already obvious.”

“Ugh.” You scoff before you can stop yourself. “You know way too much already.”

“Seriously? Are you okay?” He cocks his head and looks hard at you, while you avert your eyes down to an interesting scuff on the ground. “Oh…I get it. Is this about last night? Look, we’re both adults. It’s no big deal.”

Really? That’s it? No big deal. It’s that easy for him?

Sam continues. “If it helps, you sounded adorable.”

Oh jeez.

You make a show of rubbing your sleepy face to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, that really doesn’t help.”

He shrugs. “Eh, then I got nothin’. Except coffee, so…ya want some?”

“Ummm…” You swither, apparently a few microseconds too long for Sam’s patience.

“Look, honestly, I’m kinda getting mixed signals here. If you’re dead set on avoiding me, why’d you open the door?”

“Oh, uh-“ Your turn to shrug. “I thought you might be my landlord, sometimes he just shows up, and…yeah-“

“Woah, woah, woah.” Sam holds up a hand to stop you. “He just comes in here without calling ya first?”

He looks less than pleased when you nod mutely. Then, like flicking a switch, his expression darkens. He seems really pissed off, and you can see a different side of him. One you would never dare do wrong in a million years. It makes you tighten your grip on the doorknob. It makes you want to run. When he speaks his voice is cold, friendly Sam long gone.

“Next time he pulls that shit, you call me first before you answer him, okay? That ain’t right, you in here by yourself…”

Once you mm-hm your agreement, Dangerous Sam vanishes in a flash and your smirking neighbour is back again. You aren’t quite sure what to make of the behavioural one-eighty, but he’s probably right. Confirming what you’ve always felt but been too nervous to do anything about.

Fuck, him being so protective of you does make your heart flutter a little.

Maybe it is no big deal, your little outburst in bed. Despite everything that’s happened between you already, he is definitely the least troublesome neighbour you’ve ever known.

And the best-looking.

God, he smells amazing.

Sure it was embarrassing, for both of you, but he clearly doesn’t care, maybe you shouldn’t either. Shit happens.

“Anyway, I’ll make coffee…again. If you feel like joining me, I’d be honoured.” He turns to leave.

“Sam?” You call after him.

“Yeah, angel?”

“Don’t you need that sugar first?”

“Shoot, yeah…” For a second his self-assured air slips away and he loses his cool just a fraction. “Uh…Ya got some?”

“Maybe.” It’s your turn to lean casually against the door. No big deal you say, Sam?

He just blinks at you when you show no signs of moving. “Can you…go get it?”

“If you say please.”

“Huh?” Exactly the same tone as last night, when he heard you moaning through the wall, which makes your nerves wobble (after all, what the Hell are you doing?) but your mouth curves into a smile and you keep going.

“Say please.”

“Ah, shit…Please.” The word is clearly an effort. “I’ll pay you back, one way or another.”

“No rush.” You somehow sound breezy despite your racing pulse. Is this still flirting? Or is it foreplay?

“I will, I’m a man of my word.” He leans in close and everything outside of the two of you dissolves away. “I told you. Knock on my door and ask. Anything you need. Anything.”

You remember every detail of the earlier conversation you had when Sam offered to ‘help you out’ with your needs.

“We’ll see. And I told you Sam, if anyone was knocking and asking for stuff, it was going to be you!”

Damn, that little win felt good.

“Jeez-“ He remembers too. Sam turns away out into the hall and runs a hand through his hair before coming back to you. “That’s good, that’s cute. You’re sharp. C’mon, quit messing around. Cough up the sweet stuff.”

“Fine, wait here.”

Sam’s desperate to be in control again, he just can’t leave it alone. “You could invite me in, just give me the whole cup of coffee while you’re at it? I made one for you already. Return the favour.”

“Nice try, but I never got that cup, so it doesn’t count.” You catch him trying to peer around the door to find out what the inside of your apartment looks like. “Hey! Stop being so nosey!”

“Can’t help it.” He mutters. “What’s got into you, why you Miss Feisty this morning?”

“I’m a little mad.” You fess up as you hand him a bowl of sugar, your fingers briefly touching as he takes it. Electricity.

“Mad? At me? For what? For getting laid?” His smirk is just unbearable. “Aw, are you jealous, sweetheart?”

“Hell, no!” Your answer is too quick, over-the-top nonchalant. It’s so obvious you care.

“Oh my God, you are. You are jealous.” Sam shakes his head in wonder, seeing right through you. “Well, shit. How rude of me.”

“Isn’t she bothered you’re over here paying attention to me instead?” You slyly enquire, not sure what you should be hoping for as an answer.

“Nah, she’s long gone.” Sam looks slightly regretful. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again.”

You should not be so over-the-moon at his confession. You try not to let your face show it, and catch your grin just in time.

And then you realise why the woman isn’t coming back. She must have heard you too. She saw Sam’s reaction first hand. It was your fault. You ruined it for her. For both of them.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you ain’t. But it’s okay. Guess she didn’t take it the way I did.”

What, as a compliment?

Before you can figure out what to say next, Sam throws you another curveball.

“Listen, how about I make you dinner tonight?”

Your stomach feels like it’s just abandoned ship and your heart isn’t far behind, suddenly blood is rushing in your ears.

“Oh-“

“What, you already got plans?“

“No, it’s just…surprising.” The thought of you and him alone for at least a few hours makes your knees weak. Is it possible he actually cares for you? This isn’t just an elaborate ruse to get you into bed? Sam cooks?!

“Oh, I’m full of surprises.” He drops his voice low and lets his gaze linger on your mouth. “You’ll see. How about it?”

You shouldn’t. He was with someone else just last night. This feels like definite trouble.

But you want to. In spite of everything, you so badly want to.

“Yes. I’ll have dinner with you.” Oh my God. It’s happening.

“There’s a catch, though.”

“Which is?” You only just manage to croak out.

“Dinner at your place. I’m still fixing mine up. Sawdust everywhere. And I do mean ev-er-y-where-“

“That’s fine.” You cut him off before he goes into more detail about what exactly he means by everywhere. But Christ, you’ve got some cleaning to do.“That’s…more than fine.”

“Alright then. We got a deal. See you later, sweetheart.”

As you shut the door, you know deep down you’re still somewhat mad with him. But you’re also biting your lip in anticipation, because fuck you’re really looking forward to it. That damn smooth talking sure did the trick.

You’ve got a date with Sam.

Tonight.

***

Thanks for reading!

Still trucking away on this I’ve not forgotten 😁

#sam drake fic #sam drake x f!reader #sam drake x you #sam drake smut #sam drake fanfiction #uncharted fanfiction #when your line is crossed #uncharted #sam drake #naughty dog #samuel drake #my writing #my fanfiction #no y/n #uncharted fluff #protective sam drake #en es ef dubbleyoo #uncharted female reader

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kiwixlime · 3 years ago

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Sweet Tangerine

F is for Fake Love

You’ve been best friends with Sam Drake for years. You would do anything for each other. But it still shocks you when one day, Sam asks you to pose as his girlfriend.

Pairing: Samuel Drake x Female Reader Warnings: Smut, my friends. Because you can never have too much Sam Drake smut, am I right? Sad, angst. Additional notes: I'm sorry this isn't my best work. I'm just not feeling well lately, but I've had this in my drafts, and I'm tired of going back and adding or changing things lol. Next one will be better. I promise! 18+, Minors DNI

“I need you to be my girlfriend.”

You meet Sam at your favorite food truck following his text that reads EMERGENCY in big, bold letters. Sam has a flair for the dramatic, so you take his crisis with a grain of salt. And you are smart to because Sam’s emergency involves asking you to be his girlfriend. Words you have always wanted to hear. But not in this matter.

“What?” You ask, somewhat frozen as he goes to pay for your burrito. It may be lunchtime, but it’s still early for you. Work kept you up late, so you’re not exactly prepared for Sam’s stupid rambling - especially when they catch you off guard like this. You’re running on fumes, and you need to be at least halfway charged before you consider playing house with your best friend.

“Elena is having her party tonight,” he explains, and the words register in your tired brain. You vaguely remember being invited to this party. “She always tries to set me up with one of her single friends. It never ends well. You have to be my girlfriend so she leaves me alone this time.”

“I have to?” You frown at his persistence, a little annoyed that he assumes you’ll do whatever he asks. You will, but that’s not the point. This is a big favor he needs from you. And you’re so in love with him that you’ll say yes. But it hurts that he doesn’t even consider your feelings in all this. So you make him squirm for a minute. “I don’t have to do anything. And ya know, maybe I already have a date to this party,” you scoff. Now you’re irritated for a different reason.

You walk away from the food truck and Sam, expecting him to follow you. But when you don’t hear his footsteps, you stop and turn around. He’s still standing at the truck, frown on his face with his food in his hands. He looks dumbfounded. That stupid expression makes you feel bad.

“Do you?” He asks in a voice so soft, you know he’s only using it to tug on your heartstrings. Sam knows how to play you. And you let him. Why do you let him?

“No,” you sneer. His face brightens, and you roll your eyes, pivoting on your heels to head back to your apartment. Sam jogs up behind you, falling in step next to you. He throws an arm around your shoulder.

“So?” He drags out, and you can’t ignore those puppy dog eyes he gives you. “Will you be mine for a night?”

His words sting. You want to grab him and shake him and tell him to stop playing these games with you. You want to tell him that you’ll be his for all of the nights. But you can’t. Sam loves you as a friend. And maybe that’s for the best. He’s kind of a dick when it comes to relationships. “I hate you,” you say with a heavy heart. But Sam grins. In your words, that means yes.

“Aw, I love you, too, baby doll,” he teases, and you hate how those words make your heart flutter. He’s such an ass, and he doesn’t even realize it. “Thank you, though,” he adds, this time being genuine. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you tell him hesitantly. “Elena probably won’t even believe that we’re a couple.”

“Oh,” Sam shrugs, a familiar glint in his eyes. “I don’t know about that.” He finishes with a wink and drops his arm from your shoulder, taking your hand in his. He doesn’t say anything else as you walk, and your mind begins to panic over what the hell that could possibly mean. “Come on, baby, let’s go.”

Baby. The pet name means nothing. He always calls you that. And while it’s nice to hear coming from his stupid mouth, it doesn’t hold any significance. It’s simply a term of endearment he uses for his best friend.

Annoyed, you let Sam drag you back to your apartment. It’s your usual routine. Sam meets you outside, pays for your lunch, then comes up to your place to eat and chat the shit. You like your moments with Sam, but you can’t stop thinking about his comment. He seems pretty confident that Elena will buy your lie. But you know her. She’s not stupid.

“Are you going to try to dress me up like one of your whores?” You ask bitterly. “Because I love you, Sammy, but I’m not going to change my style for a night.”

Sam flinches, and for a second you regret your choice of words. It passes quickly, though, when you remember that Sam is kind of a douche. And his type consists of girls that look nothing like you. It’s just jealousy, nothing more. You don’t judge.

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “You’re perfect just the way you are,” he grins and bops you on the nose. God, you could kill him. You really could. “Plus, I’ve seen you when you get all dressed up. You’re hot.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You’re used to his absurd comments that he thinks are compliments. At this point, you’ve learned to tune him out. You don’t want to read too much into things. It’ll break your heart even more. Tolerating Sam was so much easier when it was a silly crush.

“You and me? We’ll be the hottest couple there,” he says, unaware of how much your insides are fidgeting. Does he ever shut up? “Oh, especially if you wear that green dress. You look so fine in that dress.”

You groan loudly and try to forget what he just said - though you have to agree. You do look good in that dress. It’s a figure-fitted one-shoulder cocktail dress with emerald sequins and a front slit. It’s not too dressy, but it’s perfect for a party like the one Elena is throwing. And if it’s what Sam requests…

“I have a question,” you speak up, genuinely curious to know his answer. He gives you a suspicious look before shrugging, deciding whatever you want to know is worth it. “Elena’s friends are beautiful,” you say, a little intimidated. “And they’re funny, and sweet, and successful. Why don’t you ever like them?”

It’s not the question Sam is expecting. And to be honest, he doesn’t know how to answer it without embarrassing himself. You’re right. Elena’s friends are perfect. And a lot of them fit his checklist. But it’s all surface-level garbage. They’d be good for one night stands, but not a relationship. It’s complicated.

“Uh,” he mumbles, looking for the right words. “I just… I’m not interested, you know?” He gives the blandest answer ever.

“Not really,” you admit, pushing for more.

“They’re pretty and successful, I agree,” he confesses. “But she’s always pushing for me to settle down. And if I’m going to settle down, it’s not gonna be with some girl I hardly know. It’s gonna be with--” he catches himself before revealing a shameful secret. “I’m just not ready to settle down,” he decides to say, hoping you’ll believe him and drop the subject.

You don’t. But you don’t press for more details. Clearly, it’s something he’s uncomfortable with. And you’re not sure you want to know the answer. You don’t know if your heart can take it. Man, you really need to get over him. Good thing this party will have plenty of alcohol. Maybe Elena will have some male friends you can bond with. Or you can always ask Nate to set you up.

Either way, after tonight, you will force yourself to move on from Sam Drake.

“You look stunning as always,” Elena says when you and Sam arrive at her front door. She holds you at arm’s length, eyeing your dress with envy. Then she looks at Sam and frowns. “How could you force this woman to be your date? She’s too good for you, you know?” She says, referring to you.

“Hey,” Sam says defensively, guiding you into the foyer. “I didn’t force anyone to do anything.” He looks over at you with an adoring grin. “We’re together,” he confirms. And the way he says it is so sincere. Like he’s said it a hundred times before.

As hard as it is to do, you keep your cool, plastering on your best fake smile. You let Sam twine his fingers with yours, holding your breath as he brings your interlocked hands to his lips. He kisses your knuckles softly, and your heart begins to beat faster. He looks into your eyes, signaling for you to say something.

“Right,” you breathe out shakily, glancing back to Elena. “Can you believe it? I finally have him trained,” you joke, faking your confidence. You need it if you’re going to have to pretend to be Sam’s girlfriend for the whole night.

“Baby,” Sam chuckles, moving his arm to your waist, holding you close. “You’ve always had me trained.” His warm lips press against the skin of your exposed shoulder, and you shiver. He wears a smirk on his ridiculously handsome face as he eyes you over, watching you grow flustered. He’s playing with fire. And you’ve just about had it.

You’re not going to let him rule the night. You agreed to be his date, but you don’t have to put up with his torment. He’s admitting he finds you attractive, and you wore the damn green dress. You deserve to see how much you can work him up.

“Oh,” you giggle, nudging him with your shoulder. “Well, if you manage to be a good boy for the rest of the night, I’ll give you a treat later.” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, shiny from the playful bubblegum lip gloss you applied in the car. You bat your eyelashes up at Sam and twirl a lock of hair between your fingers.

His eyes widen, and that cool smirk slips off his face. He stutters as he tries to come up with something clever. But the way you’re looking at him goes straight to his groin, and on instinct, he drops his gaze to your lips. Good, you think.

“Okay, gross,” Elena chimes in, putting a stop to whatever game you two are playing before Sam’s hormones take control. “Congratulations. Stop being weird.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, feeling Sam’s arms wrap around your middle, his chin resting in the crook of your neck. He’s being very cuddly right now. Usually, he’s only super affectionate when he’s drunk. Guess your little flirtation worked. “Okay, come on, Casanova,” you reach up to pat the back of his head. “Get your girlfriend a drink, yeah?”

“Yes, dear,” Sam whispers before kissing your neck. He’s laying it on a little thick, but you don’t mind. Right now, you have the confidence to play along. And you want to see what else you can get away with.

As the night goes on, your boldness waivers. But it’s only because Elena’s gorgeous friend, the one she wanted to set Sam up with, has been flirting with him since her arrival. She doesn’t care that Sam introduced you as his girlfriend or that he’s been holding your hand, kissing your cheek. She still throws herself at him. It’s been over an hour, and she’s not backing down.

And Sam’s only human. She’s a leggy redhead with fair skin, green eyes, and a curvy figure. Hell, even you’re into her. He’s obviously interested in her, the slut trying to steal your man who is not even your man. Or something.

“So, Elena tells me you’re a treasure hunter?” The woman says with a giggle, flipping her curled auburn hair over her shoulder. Her piercing eyes scan Sam over in appreciation, and you scowl at how obvious she’s being. Of course, your boyfriend is eating it up.

“Something like that,” Sam says with a charming grin. “It’s more about the adventure and the history, you know what I mean? We have traveled all over the world, and it’s been great. But yeah, finding treasure is a nice bonus.”

The woman smiles and boldly places her hand on Sam’s thigh. He looks up at her, smiling, and your stomach turns. It’s like you’re not even there. So much for convincing Elena that you’re in love. You should have ignored him in the first place. Then he could have taken the hot redhead home, and you wouldn’t have to witness their courtship.

Her fingers dance across his lap, and he sits there without flinching. You’re torn between telling the bitch off or running to Elena and Nate’s room to cry. When Sam leans into her and away from you, your decision is made. You swallow thickly, ignoring Elena’s burning stare, and jump from the couch, mumbling some excuse about needing some fresh air.

You don’t head outside, but instead, follow your instincts and run to the bedroom, the only place you know you’ll find peace and quiet. It’s a place Elena let you crash in before. Sometimes you feel guilty hiding in their bedroom during a party, but she’s a great friend. She knows when you need to be alone.

Their bedroom is decorated with photos of them, some from their wedding day, others from their travels. They both look so happy, and Nate looks so in love with her. You wonder what it feels like to have someone adore you that much. You’re so hooked on Sam, you’ll never know.

You can feel the tears glide down your cheeks, and you let out a sob, ashamed that you’re in here crying over a man who doesn’t actually care about you. It’s funny. Sam’s supposed to be your best friend; he's supposed to be the one comforting you when you’re a mess. But he’s too busy flirting with the Big Red Whore to notice.

How pathetic are you? All dressed up in something Sam asked you to wear only to cry alone on a bedroom floor. You reach for the tissue box on Nate and Elena’s dresser, grabbing a few for yourself as you stand. You glance in the mirror and frown at how much of a disaster you are before cleaning yourself up, dabbing at the mascara beneath your eyes, wiping your red nose. A good cry - that’s all you needed. Now, you can go out there, pull Elena aside, and ask if she knows any available men.

“It’s okay,” you say, pumping yourself up. “You’re a catch.”

There’s a knock on the bedroom door, and you’re expecting it to be Elena coming to check on you. That’s the only reason you shout, “come in!” But when the door cracks open and you see Sam standing there, your heart clenches, and anger pulses through your veins.

“Excuse me, I have to go,” you say curtly, ignoring the sad look on his face. “Can you please move?”

“No,” Sam speaks quickly. “What are you doing in here? How could you just leave me out there with her?” He tries to laugh, but the expression on your face tells him his childish behavior won’t work here. “Why did you leave?”

“I thought I’d give the two of you some space,” you confess. “You were getting cozy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Are you jealous?” He questions, a small smile coming to his lips. “Come on, you know you’re my girl.”

“Is this a joke to you?” You ask as more tears form in your eyes. He catches the break in your voice and drops his act, hanging his head down. “God, Sam, you’re such an asshole,” you snap. “Get out of my way.”

“No,” Sam repeats, standing firm in front of the door. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Jesus Christ, do you want me to cause a scene? Because I will,” you raise your voice. “You know me better than anyone, Sam. I will make a fucking fuss! Let me out!”

You forcefully push him out of the way, ready to flee the room and leave him behind. But he grabs your wrist, stopping you. You attempt to wriggle free of his hold, but his grip is strong.

“I’m not letting you leave,” he says darkly. You flick your eyes up, glaring at him. You open your mouth to speak only to be cut off when Sam spins you around, slamming you up against the door.

“Get off of me!” You hiss, hitting his chest. He doesn’t listen, grabbing your frantic arms and pinning them above your head. You huff angrily, thrashing in his hold.

“Baby, please,” he says softly, his voice comforting and quiet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you’re upset and you have every right to be. I was being a tool, but I promise that it didn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t care, Sam!” You shout. “It’s not like we’re really in a relationship. It’s all pretend, right?” Your anger is in the driver’s seat and you think to yourself that Sam is lucky he has you restrained or your hands would be slapping him away. “Still, you could have at least pretended to be faithful.”

“Bullshit,” Sam scoffs, leaving you confused. “You know it’s not pretend,” he whispers. “You know that what’s between us has never been pretend. I know you care. Just like I would care if some dude were hanging all over you.”

You close your eyes as Sam speaks. You’re imagining this conversation - you have to be. There’s no way Sam is telling you all of this right now. You’ve definitely been crying too much. Your mind is playing tricks on you. “You can’t just…say words and expect me to forgive you for being a jerk.”

“I’m not just saying words, baby,” he assures you. “I’m being honest, here. Why do you think I asked you to do this, tonight? I don’t want anyone else!”

“I don’t believe you!” You yell back.

“Fuck,” Sam growls and before you can make another snappy comeback, his lips are on yours, kissing you deeply.

His hold on your arms loosens as he drops his hands to cup your face. His kisses are harsh and desperate and he’s pouring his soul into this kiss to let you know just how much he means it. You can feel it. You can feel his passion. But you can still feel your rage.

You groan and come to your senses, pushing him away from you. You wipe your lips with the back of your hand and curse. “You can’t do that, Sam! Fuck!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he says. “I just needed you to listen. I need you to hear me out, okay? Please, just let me talk.”

The air in the room is tense. And your brain won’t shut off. On one hand, you want to leave. You want to disappear, just go home and take off this stupid dress, and be alone. On the other hand, you’re already hurting. What else can he say that’ll upset you?

“Whatever,” you sigh, giving up.

It’s not exactly what he's hoping for, but he takes it. He doesn't move from his position, keeping your body pinned between his and the door. Now that you’ve calmed down a little you don’t mind his proximity. He kind of smells like tangerines from the cocktail Elena served, and it’s a nice fragrance.

“Do you remember when we were talking earlier? You asked me why I didn’t want to be with any of Elena’s friends?” His question makes you roll your eyes. Yeah, right.

“I guess,” you shrug. But your aloofness doesn’t seem to bother Sam.

“It’s because it’s you,” he says with certainty. The same kind of certainty that laced his voice earlier that day when he said that you guys could convince Elena you were in love. “The person I want to settle down with is you.”

“You’re lying,” you immediately spit out.

“I’m not,” he says firmly. “And I think you know it…”

“Know what?” You grumble.

“Know that I love you, you spoiled little brat.”

“You love me?” Something between a whimper and a croak comes out of your mouth as you ask the question. But you can see that fond look in his eyes once more. And you just know. He’s telling the truth.

“More than anything,” he admits, and like the sap you are, you melt and pull him into you. Your lips meet again in a hot, messy kiss that you both desperately need. His hands travel across your body from your thighs to your ass to your sides and then up to your breasts. You let him touch you, feel you. You both crave it.

“You called me a brat,” you pant as he moves his lips down to your neck.

“You are,” he mumbles into your skin, nipping at your throat, soothing the marks with his tongue. You run your hands through his hair, tugging on the soft strands as he works his lips up to your mouth. His tongue glides against yours, pulling a soft moan from you. A delightful sound he’s happy to cause. And he wants to hear more. “And now I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

“Oh, please,” you groan, pushing your chest against him. You pull his face back to yours, kissing him again, flicking your tongue inside his mouth, tasting the remnants of alcohol.

He smiles against your lips, nudging his thigh between your legs as your dress rides up. He grinds his thigh against your aching clit, reveling in the tiny whine that escapes you. “Please what, baby?”

“I want your cock, Sam,” you say, and your determination surprises and turns him on. He reaches under your dress, pulling down your panties swiftly, and for a minute, your mind goes blank.

“Of course you do,” he chuckles, sliding his fingers up between your thighs until he reaches your pussy. “Baby, do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you?” He asks, slowly rubbing between your folds.

You throw your head back against the door, letting out a satisfied noise. You begin to move your hips in time with Sam’s fingers, now inside of you. “Me t-too,” you stutter, finding that rhythm that has you gasping.

He twists his wrist at a different angle, using two fingers to pump in and out of you. He rests his free hand at your throat, keeping you pinned to the door. “And to think, all this time I could’ve been fucking you senseless,” he sighs, picking up the pace of his hand. His slender fingers reach that sensitive spot inside of you and you moan, nice and loud, for everyone to probably hear. “I wanna taste you, baby girl, but we need to make this quick,” he says.

“God, Sam,” you whine. “Just fuck me already.”

“That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble when we’re alone,” he warns, and you smile. That’s fine with you. Now that you’re on the same page, he can do whatever he wants with you. You only nod, watching intently as he undoes his jeans. Your hands reach out to help him, pulling his hard dick out of his briefs. You lick your lips at the sight of him, wishing you had more time so you could suck him off. But, this isn’t your house. And you’re already crossing a line by having sex in Nate and Elena’s bedroom.

“Fuck, Sam,” you gasp as you feel him slip into you. You grab onto his firm shoulders, softening into his touch when he grabs your thigh, lifting it over his hip. He sinks into you deeper, making you both moan out. “Feel so good,” you praise.

“That’s right, baby,” he pants as he moves his hips faster. You roll against him, taking his cock harder each time, your body tingling as he stretches you out and fills you up. His hands hold you by your ass, giving him easier access to thrust up into you. And time feels like it’s standing still. You can’t think about anything else except for the feeling of Sam Drake inside of you.

“Faster, Sam,” you plead, digging your nails into the nape of his neck. He hisses at the sensation, and smacks your ass, snapping his hips quicker as he fucks you into the door. He’s grunting into your ear, making your insides burn with want. He sounds so goddamn hot as he fucks you. They’re sounds you’ve only dreamed about. But they make you wet.

“I knew you’d be the perfect fuck,” Sam says, placing his hands firmly against the door behind your head. He grins down at you, and underneath his lust-blown pupils and sweat-slicked hair, it’s sexy, smoldering. “So beautiful. And this pretty little pussy feels so good. I could spend all day between your legs.”

“Oh, god, Sam,” you whimper, biting your lip to hold in the loud moans that threaten to escape. You want to be vocal, you want to let him know how good he’s making you feel. But you can’t risk it. Elena would be so fucking pissed if she knew what you were up to. “I’m gonna cum, Sam, you’re gonna make me cum,” you gasp.

“Good girl,” he groans, thrusting into you faster, losing his momentum as he pours all his energy into making you reach the edge. “Cum nice and hard for me. I’ve always wanted to see what your gorgeous face looks like when you cum.”

“Faster,” you mewl, bouncing on his dick. “Oh, fuck me, Sam, I’m cumming,” you clench around him, moaning his name out loud. He’s quick to slap a hand over your mouth, chuckling at your wide, unblinking eyes.

“That’s it,” he coaxes you through your orgasm, hand still covering your lips. Your body shakes as your climax takes over you and the feeling of your body pressed against Sam’s is what sends him over the edge. You nod your head, telling him to release, and he does, spilling into you with a heavy grunt.

He collapses against you, knocking you back on the door. The hinges jiggle, and you know that you weren’t as subtle as either of you hoped. But you don’t have it in you to care. You’re happy and you know Sam is, too. You can tell by the way he peppers kisses all over your face.

“Sam,” you whine, pushing him away with a snort. “They’re probably wondering where we are. Your girlfriend is probably having a heart attack,” you roll your eyes playfully.

He glides his thumb over your lips and sighs. “Girlfriend. You’re my girlfriend,” he says, brushing his nose against yours.

“Good,” you smile, kissing him again. Your little session is interrupted by a gentle knock, startling the both of you. “Oh, shit.”

“You two are disgusting!” You hear Elena’s voice through the door.

“Just please tell me you weren’t on our bed,” Nate adds.

“Your bed is fine!” Sam yells back, making you blush. You bury your face in his chest, trying to conceal your shame. “Your door, however…”

“Nasty,” Nate comments before you hear him stomping down the hall.

“Congratulations, I suppose,” Elena tacks on, following in Nate’s footsteps.

“Let’s go, baby,” Sam says, grabbing your hand. “Time to make our couples debut.”

Masterlist

Sam Drake Taglist: @julesclues

#samuel drake x reader #sam drake x reader #samuel drake #sam drake #uncharted fanfiction

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durrtydawg · 1 year ago

Text

A Brief Encounter

(Sam Drake x F!Reader Smut)

You’d agreed not to give each other gifts this year, but after a rather crass Secret Santa gift from Sam at his brother’s Christmas party, it’d be rude not to return the favour. So, when he subtly beckons you to meet him into his brother’s airing cupboard, you’re all too happy to accept the invitation.

a/n: this isn't the best, and christmas is pretty much done and dusted, but i'm a bit low and it helped to write this, so I hope you enjoyyy!!

Word Count: 5.3k

WARNINGS: 18+, unprotected p in v, oral (f&m), friends with benefits type beat, erring on the 'too much' side of pining, but that's how i roll so sorry if that's not your jam. I have NOT proof read this fully, so there are bound to be mistakes but I am OVER it. Enjoy, lovelies x

Curiosity and anticipation mingle as you slip into the cramped space, closing the door as slowly and as discreetly as possible. You down the remainder of your amaretto and coke, placing the glass beside Sam as you wince at the unmixed alcohol that coats your tongue.

The moment the latch clicks, the same smirk he’d given you from across the room mere minutes ago returns as he swallows a mouthful of beer. "Fancy meeting you here," he quips, his voice low and provocative, the red tinsel draped over his shoulders offsetting a warm glow over his face. You don’t want to take him seriously.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” You scoff, leaning against the dryer as you’re enveloped by the smell of detergent and clean linen. “Crappy wrapping, tacky gift. I should’ve known you were my Secret Santa the moment it was handed over.”

“Alright, I can’t excuse the wrapping, but, I’ll have you know that these,” He removes a hand from the counter, pulling the offending garment from where it’s poking out of your skirt's pocket, catching you off guard and eliciting a quiet yelp from you as he slingshots the material against your forearm.

“Ow!” You attempt to smack his hand, but his reflexes are quick, and he swipes it out of reach just in time, placing a finger over your lips.

“Keep your squawking down.” He warns with a slightly sardonic half-smile, shaking his head towards the door. “These were not cheap. I don’t scrimp on my favourite girl.” He holds them up to the small lamp on the shelf behind him and you blush a little. “Plus, I just know it’s gonna look fantastic on you.” He shrugs, smug, and satisfied.

You roll your eyes, smirking as you adjust your volume. "Really, though, Samuel? ‘Ho ho ho’? A thong? Real smooth.”

His response accompanies a smug grin. "Well, I had to get you something that matches your…” He holds his beer just shy of his lips as he mulls over his thoughts for a second, “You.”

You snort in response, folding your arms as your brows raise, the two of you locking metaphorical, and very flirtatiously charged horns. “Oh! Well, in that case, we’ll have to get you a matching pair!”

He chuckles into his beer bottle, taking a swig before placing it beside him. He goads you with his look- a soft furrow of his brows that says ‘elaborate’.

“Dragging me into your brother’s airing cupboard in the middle of his impeccably planned Christmas party? Hardly the behaviour of someone who isn’t a… ‘ho ho ho’ themselves.” You feel yourself stifle a giggle- what a stupid conversation.

Ah, who gives a shit. You’re both tipsy, and you both know what’s about to happen.

Sam licks the remnants of his beer off of his lips, pushing himself away from the counter with an amused grin. His smug smile, a silent agreement, sets the stage for what both of you have been dancing around all night. The atmosphere becomes charged, filled with unspoken needs that have lingered in stolen glances and exchanged banter amongst a crowd of drunken acquaintances and giddy friends.

“You must be sorely mistaken, gorgeous.” He starts as his hands brace themselves onto the dryer, gently caging you in. “I wanted to help out my little brother by… folding towels. You know- keep him in the wife’s good books.”

In the intimate, shrunken space of the airing cupboard, the atmosphere thickens as his joke hangs between Sam and you, a veil of playfulness concealing the underlying, and oh so mouth-watering tension that’s coarsening your skin with goosebumps.

“Folding towels. That’s what we’re calling it now?” You grin, though your voice takes on a slightly lower tone as he leans over you. God, he smells fantastic.

The slight wrinkle in his navy t-shirt is a telltale sign that he’s obviously pulled it straight from the dryer and thrown it on as he left his apartment; but that damn jacket. Recently washed, yes, but never rid of that tinge of cigarette smoke that’s practically woven its way into the denim by now; a little aftershave spritzed over it as to not cause offence to those that despise his poor habit, accompanied by… him; A gentle amber muskiness diluted by the subtle red fruit scent that’s interwoven itself into him during his winter period of reluctant domesticity.

“Shame you’ve not got these on now, ya know.” He takes another look at the thong before abandoning it on the top of the washer, re-assuming his position over you. “Red’s definitely your colour. Always has been.”

His eyes make a show of their journey up and down your frame, and much to your own chagrin, you feel your face heat up even more. You should be used to this by now. Your little arrangement has been going on for almost a year. Yet every time, he’s got you blushing like a high school kid with a crush on their teacher.

Sam grins, shoulders jolting with a chuckle as he watches the redness spread across your cheeks.

“Aw. See? Adorable.”

“Stop it.” You chide, head turning to the side as you try to hide the consistent blush bleeding across your face. As if his ego needs to be given any more fuel.

“Stop what?” He smirks, knowing full-well what you mean. You frown. “Ohhh.” He over exaggerates, grinning wide as his head flops sideways in search of your face. “Making you blush? Doesn’t take much, does it?”

“No. I’m not gonna stop.” Sam's smug smile lingers, a subtle spark in his eyes made visible by the warm glow of the lamp. The air crackles with anticipation as he leans in, his lips brushing yours with a teasing tenderness that makes your hairs stand on end. His eyes are sly, and of course seductive, provoking you to lean in and close the gap. He’s offering the illusion of a situation where you get to take charge.

But he’s done this before, and things never go that way.

Not that you mind, of course.

Each passing second adds fuel to the simmering fire as you feel his thumbs grace your wrists at either side of you. You hold steady, your eyes narrowing towards his in a sort of stand off. You’re not going to cave first.

Though… it’s becoming more and more of a challenge as he leans further into you, your back pressed hard against the edge of the dryer as he imposes fully on your personal space. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

His head dips down, and you feel light stubble scratch against your jaw as he laughs softly, yet there’s still an undeniable smugness to it that makes your hands go clammy. “I intend to keep that blush of yours nice an’ vibrant for the foreseeable, sweetheart.”

And just like that, you’re butter in his hands. Melted butter, mind you- it’s fucking boiling in here.

You mutter a quiet “fuck sake” in a poor attempt at saving face, but as his lips press against the spot just beneath your ear, you know things are about to progress quickly- just like they always do when the two of you are alone. A few more pecks down your neck, and you breathe in; your nipples rub against your bra, and you exhale shakily as his teeth come into play. Sam removes his hands from your wrists, respectively taking a hold of your waist and your hair, keeping you pressed against him as he reddens your neck, bit by bit, and- God- the sight of him still wearing that jacket is making you feel like you’re in the depths of a furnace. He’s not even breaking a sweat. Bastard.

You find your hands weaving underneath the sherpa, clawing at his dark tee ’til you reach his shoulders. You tuck your hands underneath, and as if telepathy exists, he shunts the jacket off, along with the tinsel, lips still trailing a series of small bruises along your neck.

They fall to the floor, buttons clack-clattering against the washer behind him- dangerously loud whilst whatever song is playing outside seems to be in the midst of a quiet bridge- and you both break apart to stare at the door, wide-eyed and breathing heavily.

After a few butterfly-inducing seconds, a new song starts and someone whoops loudly- you’re safe.

Sam looks back at you with a relieved smile. It’s too innocent and uncharacteristic, so you push him off of the diving board, straight into the deep end; fingers tugging him down to your level by the scalp, using his slight moment of surprise to shove him back into the washer as your lips find his.

Sam's hands trace a path of yearning along your back; they dive under your tacky ‘tinsel tits’ sweater in search of skin, and as his calloused, scarred hands meet the smooth softness of your back, he hums quietly into you, as if he’s checked something off of a to-do list. You take it upon yourself to tick off another, and your free hand reaches down to give him a teasing squeeze through his jeans.

You both smirk in tandem, but as you one-handedly pull out his t-shirt’s French-Tuck- his lazy attempt at sprucing himself up- and your dexterous fingers unhook his belt buckle in one fell swoop, his smirk falters slightly.

Smugness now replaced by an urgent need, he pulls you tighter against him, and the air becomes charged with the electricity of your concealed connection as you unbutton his jeans. Your hand snakes past the zipper, thumb testing the waters with a teasing stroke over the fabric of his boxers as you push your tongue into his mouth. He tastes of nicotine that’s been drowned in alcohol, Nathan’s experimental lebkuchen, and a stick of cheap gum, and as your hand wraps around him completely, you cannot get enough.

Sam fights against your tongue with his own, brows scrunching every so often as you slowly pump his cock in your palm. Shutting him up is always pleasant, and always rare, so you savour every second, watching as a flush of his own begins to make an appearance across his cheeks. Two can play at that game, you think to yourself, your core seizing in anticipation.

A wandering hand squeezes at your ass under your skirt, and as you roll your thumb over his tip, you pull your lips from his, making sure to take in the sight of his growing arousal. You smile knowingly, your other hand freeing his hair so your thumb can swipe away saliva from his lips. You give him a gentle peck, made teasing by the smirk that accompanies it before you pull away from him and crouch slightly.

Pushing up his t-shirt a little, your smirk deepens as you take in the quick rise and fall of his stomach as he breathes fast in expectancy. You kiss him; a soft, open-mouthed peck over each scar, tongue rolling across the hair trailing along his belly, down lower, and lower, fingers pulling aside the waistband of his jeans.

Sam’s hands find purchase on the edge of the washing machine, eyes transfixed on you as you expose him, jeans pulled down just enough to give you access, but still modest enough for any hasty getaway that may be required.

You lower yourself fully to your knees, and the temperature is too much now. You pull off your sweater, placing it gently aside as you twist your hair into a makeshift pony, throwing it over a shoulder. He’s well-groomed. It’s almost as if he knew this was going to happen.

“Don’t be too quiet.” You look up at him. “I love hearing my pretty boy lose his composure.” You smile innocently, taking him in your hand again.

“Shut ya mouth. Calling’ me shit like that.” He laughs in response. The way his cheeks take on a soft pink hue sets you aflame; it’s evidence that his annoyance his feigned. He likes being called ‘shit like that’.

You giggle quietly, tongue licking a stripe up from his balls to his tip, before you let spit roll over your lower lip and onto him as Sam looks down at you with a neediness he’s only ever let you see. You move painfully slowly, lips parting enough to pull his head into your mouth, hands finding the outside of his thighs. He’s tense with anticipation, and your hands squeeze, before your throat envelopes his cock as far as you can take him.

Cheeks hollowed, you slowly retract, making him hiss as you gently graze your bottom teeth against his frenulum, before you retract completely.

“Do that again.” He breathes, knuckles pale.

“Ask nicely.” You grin, opening your mouth a little, hovering just in front of him.

“Christ.” He mutters, unable to wipe away his smile as he shakes his head, eyes closed. “Do that again, please.”

“Good boy.”

“Will you stop callin’ me th-ah-at, fuck!” He cuts himself off as you repeat the action, this time drawing a bead of salty-sweetness from him. You hum in satisfaction, feeling your own slick between your thighs as his hand instinctively grabs a hold of your hair.

As the next minute progresses, you hear Sam’s breathing gradually grow slightly more erratic, his hand unsteadily pushing your hair out of your face as the pace builds. Every now and then you flick your eyes upwards, relishing in the way he swallows in want, hips twitching occasionally as you involve your teeth- his breathy little pants make you want to keep this up forever, but you crave more.

You move particularly deep, and he bucks up; you feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag, eyes beginning to water instantly. You slide him out of your mouth as you take in air, and whilst it takes a whole lot of willpower for him not to push himself back into your throat, he instead tucks himself away and comes down to your level with an apology and a chuckle, cupping your jaw as you pull yourself together.

“Hate it when you do that.”

“It’s a good thing I did,” He breathes, “Don’t think this would’ve lasted as long as I’d want it to if you kept going.”

You laugh whilst Sam’s eyes follow the trickle of drool slowly rolling down your chin. He’s suddenly in a world of his own, barely registering what you’re saying before his tongue gathers the spit off of your skin, pushing it back into your mouth, your back hitting against the cool metal of the dryer as he kisses you; stubble grazes almost painfully against your face, but you don’t give a shit. Sam takes a rushed pause to rest his forehead against yours as he looks down at your chest; heaving, ripe for the picking.

You can only squeak as he grabs hold of you, hoisting you to your feet before propping you back up onto the top of the dryer. You almost fall back from the haste of it all, but with his hands on your lower back, you’re relatively stable again.

You groan as his hands grab your breasts, kneading them with a ferocity that sends your pulse skyrocketing. His eyes flit to yours, and he gives you an warning grin before his hands snake behind you and unhook your bra. You gasp, mildly irritated that he’d expose you so thoughtlessly whilst you’d taken every care to preserve him from any embarrassment that could occur from an innocent party-goer accidentally infiltrating the unlocked airing cupboard.

“These are magnificent.” He preens, and you roll your eyes with a scoff.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen them before.”

“Been a while. God.”

“Did you just lick your lips? What are you, fourteen?”

“Look, doll, you know me. I’m a simple guy. I see a good pair’a tits, and I start to salivate. Now shut up.”

You huff in amused shock, but as Sam’s tongue goes for your nipple, you force yourself to swallow down a small gasp. A lick turns into a suck, which turns into a bite, and you have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from yelping out in pained pleasure as his teeth apply pressure to the sensitive spot, tugging as he looks up at you deviously. He lets go, and you let out a sharp breath, glaring at him.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” You chastise, panting a little as he pinches your neglected nipple, the roughness of his thumb and forefinger making you squeeze your thighs together in response to the action.

He gives you a toothy grin, pupils blown out; eyes darkened by impertinence as he chooses not to respond. God, he drives you mad.

As Sam takes a moment to look at you again, his smugness gives way to an unseated hunger, his lips briefly seeking yours again with a precision born of familiarity. He smooths his hands up your legs, pulling his lips away, eyes flitting between each one as he squeezes your thighs.

And all of a sudden, your heart is palpitating hard. You’re soaked- that much is certain, but you’re also slightly afraid of the concept of him stripping you completely bare without so much as a lock from keeping you from being walked in on. Perhaps you should’ve thought this through. Perhaps you shouldn’t be-

“Sam!” You whisper-yell as the ripping of fabric snatches you from your thoughts.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He replies, completely unbothered by your reaction, the new hole torn into your tights right between your thighs giving him an almost completely unrestricted view he’s been waiting for. “Jesus Christ. Haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re wet through.”

“I will kick you.”

“Nah, you won’t.” He shoots a complacent grin up at you, before hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the dryer with a quick yank that has your eyes widen momentarily.

You sigh shakily, bracing yourself on your forearms as he comes back to antagonise your chest.

Your gaze fixes on Sam, who looks up at you with a teasing smile as he pushes your thigh aside, deft tongue swirling and flicking around your nipple in a way that makes your lips part with quickened breaths; the signalling of your growing want couldn’t possibly get any clearer. The playful glint in his eyes mirrors the deriding movement of his lips, and for a moment, the laughter, music, and clinking glasses outside the intimate space you’re sharing muffles into the background.

His fingers, warm and skilful, navigate the contours of your skin through your thin tights with a gentle caress. The intention is clear—a slow, tantalising exploration that builds mutual desire with every inch of you that’s covered, and as he finally strokes a thumb over your covered core, sending a soft mewl spilling from your lips, a switch flips in his brain. Playfulness starts to deepen into a smouldering gaze, reminding you of his undeniable hunger beneath the friendship on the surface. As he pulls aside the material and starts to coat his fingers in your slick, it’s all too clear that his movements are deliberate, each touch purposeful, as if he's savouring the anticipation as much as the final destination.

He wants you. But he wants you to need him more. Sam wasn’t lying when he said you’re his ‘favourite girl’.— he adores you, and he wants to give you everything he can through his body that he can’t bring himself to give you through caged in commitment. As a result, he’s not afraid to take his time- time to pretend that this is more than the ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement you’d forged way back when. He doesn’t give anyone else this kind of time. He doesn’t want to.

You're caught between the thrill of the unexpected and the familiarity of Sam's touch. Every stroke and every red blotch left on your skin feels like a shared rebellion against the constraints of everything else life has to offer. He bites you again, and you buck your hips in response, brows furrowing as a quiet hiss pushes through your teeth. Your nails claw against the edge of the dryer, and as he effortlessly slides two fingers knuckle deep inside you, your grip falters slightly.

The hand on your waist tightens, and one of yours goes for the back of his head. You tangle your fingers into his hair, head rolling back as you try to stop yourself from moaning. He hooks his fingers, rubbing back and forth against your sweet spot in quick, repetitive motions, whilst his thumb flicks against your clit. Your breathing grows heavier, and you struggle to keep quiet as he releases your nipple from his mouth with a gentle ‘pop’.

The fire in your lower belly is burning stronger with each passing second, and you clasp your lip between your teeth as he adds a third digit— the stretch forcing a groan bubbling out of your throat as he laughs softly at the sight of you leaking onto the back of his hand. This time you’re unable to keep it down.

You’re sopping, and so damn tight at this angle— Sam feels his cock twitch with need as he feels you contract around him, the sensation of your nails scratching gently against his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair giving him goosebumps of his own. He loves the way you sound; the wetness, your unsteady breathing, and your quiet, raspy little moans— even more so knowing that you’re trying and failing to restrain yourself.

“Ohh— shit.” you gasp as his thumb speeds up, stimulating your clit to the point where your breath gets caught in your throat. You’re not far from the edge, but he’s not ready for that yet. Neither are you.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you, and you exhale, a desperate look in your eyes as the emptiness hurts.

He presses his forehead to yours, gently nudging his nose against yours in a display of affection that forces a shy smile from you. His eyes flit to your lips, and back up to your eyes, and just before you take it as a silent invitation to kiss him, his hand is brought up from between your thighs. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of his glistening fingers as he hovers them just in front of your chin.

“Open up.” He whispers, lips tugged into a cocky half-smile. You’re more than happy to oblige, and as your lips part, he slides two slick-covered fingers into your mouth, your tongue lapping up the sticky sweetness as he fixates on your mouth for a moment.

Without so much as looking back up at you, he mutters “My turn.”

As you continue to taste yourself on his skin, Sam gets to his knees, free hand holding a thigh to one side before it moves aside the soaked material of your underwear again.

“So so pretty.” He mutters, voice gruff, eyes ravenous as he takes in the sight of you; glistening, ready. All for him. All because of him. He leans in, hand keeping you exposed as he pulls his fingers from between your lips, instead choosing to keep you wide open for him. His tongue scoops you up, from the bottom of your folds up to your swollen clit, and you shudder, fingers instinctively tightening in his hair as you look down at him.

Sam goes again, this time sucking the sensitive bud in order to draw out a noise from you. You hum; high pitched and needy, leaning your coccyx against the dryer as you spread your legs open a little further.

He groans into you, fingers digging into the fullness of your thighs as his tongue moves; slow and deliberate, as if every stroke, every lick, every bite is a carefully composed note in a well-practiced symphony. The taste of you spurs him on, and through the feeling of your thighs involuntarily tightening around his head as he begins to devour you like you’re the first meal he’s eaten in days, and the slight tug you give his hair every few seconds, a blend of mischief and longing and lust takes him over.

You’re a mess, flustered, muffled moans and curses spilling into your hand, your bare chest heaving as he becomes more unrestrained; he can’t get close enough to you, his nose rubs against your clit while his tongue snakes inside you, pretty, dark eyes flicking up to see the effect that he’s having on you every so often.

You could do this all day. So could he. But you’re approaching your peak far too quickly, and whilst his tongue feels wonderful, you want more. You want him inside you when you finish— you want him to feel what he’s done to you in the most intimate way possible.

“Sam?” You rasp, tugging at his hair slightly harder. “F-fuck, Sam, s—stop.” You tug a little harder, and you whimper as you feel his breath fan over you as he reluctantly allows you to pull him away from your sensitive cunt.

He swallows, chest heaving as he takes in air. “You okay?” He asks, brows furrowed, nose, lips, and chin coated in a glistening layer of your arousal. You have to give yourself a moment to take it in. This is far from the first time you’ve seen him like this, but each time you do, you feel yourself fall in deeper. You nod, hand moving to the back of his neck, drawing him into you. Your lips press against his again, and as his tongue dives into your mouth, sharing with you the tangy sweetness he’s obsessed with, you pull his cock into his other hand. Your thumb smooths over the dribble of pre-cum that’s seeping out of him, and you pump him in your hand a few times just to feel how hard he is. He huffs out through his nose as you squeeze him gently, and as you rub him against your dripping pussy, his arms tighten around you.

You line him up, edging yourself forwards just enough for his tip to breach you, and as he swallows down a quiet moan, you peel your mouth from his and get him to look at you. “You know I love you, right?” You breathe, thumb stroking the bridge of his nose as he looks at you with parted lips.

“I know you love me.” He says, just a little louder than a whisper. He pushes into you, a cuss sighed into your neck as he tucks his head beside you. You swallow a moan as he stills, nestled into you as deep as he can, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as he gives you a moment to adjust, and him to embrace.

You laugh, quiet and breathy into the shell of his ear. “I know you do.” You say, pressing a kiss just behind his ear as he drags himself part-way out of you. He rocks himself back into you, hips rolling gently as he begins to build a gentle rhythm. He doesn’t want to come just yet. He wants to savour this. To enjoy this perfect glimpse into the normal life he’s never wanted. He loves you. He loves you so much, but he can’t give you everything you want, so you both settle for stolen moments like these.

He quickens the pace ever so slightly, and as he continues to litter the delicate skin of your neck with deep pink nips and wet speckles your eyes close. You cradle his head in your arms as his thrusts grow a little harsher, and he hums out soft, vulnerable moans that make his closeness to his peak all the more evident.

“So good t’me.” He murmurs into your neck as he slots a hand between you, blindly searching for your clit with shaky fingers.

You cry out into his shoulder as he finds it, and you cling onto him with all of your might as he fucks you with more intensity with each passing second.

He grips onto your lower back as he continues to groan into your neck— he pulls you into him with such intensity that every small bruise developing on your chest is stimulated as your tits are crushed harshly against his t-shirt.

Sam goes deeper, sweeter, and your eyes water as he squeezes your clit almost desperately. You grunt, the coil in your abdomen tightening and tightening with each passing second, eyes squeezing shut as he gives up concentrating on your neck, collapsing into the crook of it altogether.

He breathes heavily, grunting as you bite into his shoulder to suppress a scream as you completely lose yourself. You convulse in his arms, your pussy spasming around his cock as you feel your orgasm crash over you, muffled expletives and Sam’s name spilling mindlessly from you as you feel nothing but white hot pleasure. The coil releases, and you fall limp in his grasp as you begin to milk his own orgasm out of him.

“G—God,” He groans, hand snatched from between you as he braces himself against you. He keeps moving as you feel hot ropes of cum fill you, leaning back just enough to see it dribble out of you and onto him.

He stills, foreheads touching again as you catch your breath. You feel his eyebrows scrunch and unscrunch as his breathing slowly becomes steadier, and the intensity of your respective climaxes dim into a soft afterglow.

You feel a hand stroke against your jaw, and he huffs out a laugh as you smile.

“Hi.” He whispers.

“Hey.” Your responding laugh quickly dissipates into a wince as he slides out of you.

He sniffs, with a smile to mirror your own. “Perhaps I should’ve gotten you a towel instead of that thing.” He shakes his head towards the Secret Santa gift lying abandoned on the washer behind him, and you snort.

“Hmm. I mean you could always use them as a cum rag.”

“Love it when you talk all ladylike.” He jokes. “Christmas isn’t over til New Years, the way I see it, so you’ve got plenty of time to model them for me before they’re allowed to be used for something so…menial.”

You shove him playfully, hopping off of the dryer, legs wobbling slightly as you get used to being on the ground again. He throws you your bra and sweater, which you throw on as he relocates his jacket.

You rake your fingers through your hair in hopes that it still looks relatively presentable and suitably covers your thoughtfully gifted hickey-patchwork, before you swipe up the thong and walk over to the door.

“Gonna... take a stealth walk to the bathroom.” You clear your throat, smiling as you rest a hand over the handle.

He nods in response, a half, and slightly coy smile on his lips. As you twist the handle, he gets your attention with a quick “Hey”.

You turn, raising an expectant brow. He clears his throat, nodding as if he’s reassuring himself about something.

“You… you know I love ya too, yeah?”

You smile, taking in the slight nervousness in his eyes. “I know you do. Despite these.” You swing the red monstrosity around your finger before bunching it up and shoving it into your skirt pocket. You give him an endearingly sweet wink, opening the door slowly, exposing the room to the bass boost of Nate’s festive playlist and someone’s dreadful karaoke attempt.

“See you out there?”

He chuckles as he watches you check that the coast is clear. God, he adores you.

“See you out there.”

I love him a normal amount.

#sam drake #uncharted #sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #samuel drake smut #reeEEHe

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nathandrakeisabottom · 3 years ago

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Goodbye!

Hey y'all! It's been a wild ride, but I think this is the end of the blog.

While I've loved connecting with some really lovely people (@sicparvismorrigan, @durrtydawg, @missdictatorme, @godidontevenknowwhat, and @mariinara, especially!!), fandom as a whole has been a HUGE detriment to my mental health and love of Uncharted as a whole for a while now, affecting my real world emotions so colossally that I can't help feeling ashamed. It all feels a little ruined to me.

I'm really hoping that stepping back will help rekindle my personal love for it and help me get back to why I loved it in the first place. Maybe I just need a break, maybe I gotta go do something else for a while, or maybe this is it. But I'm really hoping that after some cool-down, I'll get re-inspired to work on stuff that's just for me, without having to worry about notes or canon or whatever the heck other people are doing. Even if it scares me to think that may not happen. I just have to hope.

Please keep enjoying my work (I hope they make you happy!) but I won't be checking notifs, accepting requests, or taking part in the fandom anymore. I just don't think it's healthy for me right now.

Getting a little love note from Nate (or Sam!) would mean the world to me right now. And if you enjoyed or were inspired by my fics, please feel free to send a little smiley and let me know how you're doing. I'm gonna miss y'all like crazy but think I gotta do what's best for me right now.

Sic Parvis Magna, and thanks for the adventure!

Catch me in the next Naughty Dog game. Or the one after that. One day. ;)

All my love,

Shea

#uncharted #nathan drake #sam drake #nathan drake x reader #sam drake x reader #uncharted 4: a thief's end #uncharted x reader #cried all day today after seeing yesterday that a minor f/os nate and doesnt like to share and people sending kissy pics with their names!!#shea!!!! no!!!!#curiosity kills the cat and yet i keep doing it!!!#like im aware that it isnt real and it shouldnt matter and these feelings are frankly dumb as hell. and yet i cant stop it.#no matter how hard i try or what i do #so if i want to keep these characters special to me. if i want to keep feeling that my canon is just as valid as the original.#if i want to make art for nobody else but me without the need to post for validation or to make my selfship feel more 'legitimate'#if i want this thing that i love so much and these characters that feel like real actual friends to remain something POSITIVE and WONDERFUL #i just gotta lay off a toxic feedback loop that isn't working for me #love you like crazy nate but at this point it's hurting TOO much. like unreasonably so. it's not real. take the good and leave the bad.#i pray to god though that this is just a phase and i'll go right back to making personal fics soon #but for now i gotta do what's best for shea shea #and seriously i mean it when i say check me in a future naughty dog game ;)#<3

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dollwritesarchive · 3 years ago

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𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 | ꪀ.ᦔ.

commissioned by the oh-so lovely @blacklightguidesnic 💗 i hope i did your vision justice, babe! thank you for commissioning me ☺️

fandom uncharted

featuring nathan drake x reader (f)

rating NSFW / MINORS DNI

content warning smut, oral (f!receiving) semi-public sex, unprotected sex

summary there’s a reason your adventurer lover shouldn’t leave you behind, and it’s because you always end up saving his ass. based on a thief’s end.

word count 3.4k / one shot

attention my very first commission since reopening them! if you’re interested in my commissions, click here. due to some unforeseen hiccups, this wasn’t proofread. do not repost or translate. reblog & give feedback if you like it!

it was hot.

sticky.

the air so humid that you felt as though you were meant to swim through it.

Nate was still walking with the hint of a limp in his right leg, that bent less than the left when propelled in front of him. aside from a handful of scrapes and the dried blood caked against his temple, that seemed to be his only injury. you were virtually unscathed, save a busted lip from biting down upon impact when your back hit the ground, and hardly visible scratches on your knees from thorny plants as you trudged through the wilderness afterwards.

you’d fallen the same distance, so why were you less worse for wear than he? that was simple: he’d broken your fall. you hadn’t even considered that the fall might kill the two of you; the only thing on your mind had been the gun pointed at your lover and how you could possibly get him as far away from the bullet, as quick as your legs could carry you. at the time, it seemed logical to tackle him, pressing both palms into his chest to send you both over the precipice and into the jungle below, but looking back on it now, you felt guilty. you were responsible for Nathan’s limp and your bloody mouth. you both could’ve died, but that thought didn’t even cross your mind when you had to act fast.

Nate’s hand consumes your own, fingers interlacing as he staggers into the darkened, tunnel entrance, turns, and uses the grip on your hand to urge you to follow. “Where are we?” you ask, close behind him. you notice your own voice is soft and uncertain, as if you wanted no one else but him to hear and respond. you probably could’ve shouted the inquiry, and the orchestra of exotic birds hidden in leafy, emerald trees would’ve masked your voice from anyone else on the entire island. you could hardly even hear Nate over the menagerie.

“This tunnel leads straight to Libertalia,” he replies, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “I’m sure Rafe took Sam this way. If they’re not still down here.” the last portion of the statement was added as an afterthought, but it made your stomach roll over. facing Rafe again wasn’t something you were overly excited about, but you couldn’t deny, his face deserved a nice, swift meeting with your fist. you were certain, if given the right opportunity, you’d splatter the nose on his pretty-boy mug for waving a gun at the man you adored.

“And if they are…” you start, but trail off as your boots grind against the gritty dirt below them, and your vision fails you in the pitch-black tunnel.

“Stay close to me.”

“Funny,” you hardly smirk, but glance up at him (or, at least, where you assumed he was), “I was going to say the same thing to you, my love.”

“Just like the old days, huh?” for a moment, his voice sounds far away, his hand slips from yours, and you feel a jolt of anxiety as you stumble blindly, reaching a few feet in front of you for him. “You and me in some rank cave?” regardless of your panic, he sounds fine. flippant, even.

“Nate—“ you start, stamping through a mud puddle that is deep enough to swallow nearly the entirety of your calf, drenching your bare skin in a slimy concoction of dirt and rainwater, but as you reach forward again, both hands caress the fabric of his shirt. relief washes over you. “There you are.”

moments later, Nate has fished in his pocket for a familiar trinket. the sound of his thumb on the flint wheel nearly transports you back to your living room with him. it was a crappy, old Zippo. of course, when you’d got it for him, it’d been new, but years of use have worn it down and faded the insignia against the metal. your initials and his. you don’t know why you were surprised to see the flame come to life, illuminating Nate’s face in an orangish glow, or why you hadn’t even considered the gift would be on his person. he took it everywhere. he even kept it by the bed the two of you shared, and if he were unable to sleep, he would flip it open, and push it closed again. over and over.

when you both can see again, he reads the concern on your face and his own scrunches, brows furrowing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer, perhaps a bit too quick. “Yeah. I’m just sick of letting you slip through my fingers and disappear, you know.” maybe it was a bit unfair to say, but you had just been reunited after six months of nothing, not a word, while he’s gallivanting around with his brother searching for this place. the first thing you see is him being held at gunpoint. it had left a sour taste in your mouth, one that has lingered for the remaining portion of your trek.

Nathan looks equally sympathetic and apologetic, and his free hand flees to caress your cheek, which was sore upon contact, but you didn’t recoil. “I fucked up.” he whispers, genuine. “I’m sorry.”

you nod, looking into his honeyed oceans, you watch the flame dance in their depths. “You really did.” you reply, before placing your hand atop his own, and nuzzle against the calloused palm. you consider telling him that you forgive him, but a stampede of foreign bootsteps bring you out of the conversation. many more than simply Rafe and Sam. all of the mercenaries Rafe had brought with him had to be present, as well, stomping through the muddy tunnel. way too many for you and Nate to fight off.

your heart beats rapidly against your ribs and your eyes cut to a rock formation, covered in mud and fungi and jutting out from the wall of the cave, large enough for the two of you to crouch behind.

“This way.” you whisper, hastily grasping his hand and dragging him to hide behind the rock. your knees ache when you drop to them in the muck, and Nate slides down the rock with his back, forced to sit flat on his butt to be concealed completely. he flips the lighter closed and stuffs it back into his pocket, while you carefully grasp the jagged edges of the stone and peek out over the crest.

“Is it them?” Nate whispers, and for a moment, you don’t answer. large, armed men dressed in black and green march in rows of two, deeper into the tunnel. you frown, brows knitting together. you couldn’t spot Rafe or Sam in the mix. “Is it Rafe? Is Sam with him? Is—“ the whispering was not only grating on your nerves, but seemed to attract attention from one of the men towards the back, that whirls around and shines a flashlight in your direction. ducking just milliseconds before you’re enveloped in the glow, you clamp your hand over Nate’s mouth tight, your face inches from his. even in the dimness of the tunnel, shielded from the beam, you can see a familiar twinkle in his amber couplet, and you wanted to quirk your brow. it’s faint, but undeniable.

after just a couple of seconds, the footsteps faded into the distance, and when you released Nate, you peeled over the top of the rock to see that not one was left. “I didn’t see Rafe.” you murmur, thoughtful, “But those guys definitely came with him to the island, so I’m sure they’re close.” your gaze flickers to Nate, who is still staring at you with that look in his eyes. “What’s with you?” you ask, perplexed.

“It really is like the old days.” he grins, slow and mischievous, one hand gliding over the flare of your hip to caress your midsection. “When me and you would be out on these trips together, remember? God, I missed you so much, baby. Didja miss me?”

nibbling on your lip, you nod. it was hard to want anything besides the sensation of his hands on you; after all, it’d been so long since you felt him. “Nate…” you mumble, reaching for his hands to pry them from your body. “We don’t have time—“ no such luck, as one hooks the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. there’s no resisting.

after months of missing the taste of his kiss, the ferocity of your lips and their elated greeting of his own nearly takes him by surprise, but he’s sturdy enough to withstand it, hauling you on to his lap with one, swift and scooping motion. your tongue senses his just beyond the threshold of his pair and makes a hasty beeline for his cavern; he swallows your moan as his muscle embraces yours. if you could’ve kissed him for hours, you would’ve. tongues at war with one another, hands shaking as you grip his harness and shove it down his arms before tugging at the stained fabric of his shirt. you couldn’t breathe. you could no longer think. all you wanted was him, just him.

“I’m making time.” he mutters, breathless as he breaks the kiss to allow you to pull the garment off and discard it on the muddy cave floor.

“What— What about the rescue mission?” you ask, but do very little besides that to stop him as he cradles your body with both hands against the small of your back, and sits up on his knees. laying your on your back, your hands rub dirt and grime over his bulging biceps before careening upwards to grab both sides of his neck. “Aren’t we on a schedule, here?”

Nate doesn’t even pause. “We’ll catch up.” is his answer, powerful hands pushing your tank top and bra up simultaneously to expose your bare breasts. he stares, captured, entranced by the sight of your naked chest that he’s missed so much, and for a moment he doesn’t even look like the Nathan you know. he appears more like a wild beast that has been starved. “Right now, I need you.” and with that, his head dips, and he envelops one breast within the warmth of his mouth. the sensation is so abrupt that you’ve no choice but to grab on to his spiky tendrils and arch your back. his teeth and tongue work wonders on your mound, teasing the hardened bud and suckling. his hungry grunts are stifled by your supple flesh. it feels like heaven to have his mouth on your body again.

you can feel his hands on the waistband of your khaki shorts, fumbling with the buttons, and when you feel them come undone and his fingers grip them and your panties underneath, you lift your lower half from the ground to make it easier for him to pull them down your legs.

“Hurry.” you whine, impatient, giving his roots a firm yank.

Nate groans and responds, open mouth trailing over your belly whilst his hands grip your thighs tight. “You know how much I thought of this while I’ve been away?” it’s clearly a rhetorical question as he finds the most comfortable position between your thighs, and you hook them over his broad shoulders. his eyes aren’t on you, and instead remained glued to your weeping core, his teeth sinking in to his lower lip as he takes in the sight of you: naked, filthy, and yearning. it’s almost too much for him, and so he sucks in a ragged breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal at the same time. “All the time. Every goddamn morning and every fucking night, spent thinkin’ about you. The taste of your lips, the warmth of your body…” Nate leans forward and his tongue lazes out over his bottom tier as he drags it along the seam of your folds. you nearly come undone right then, the sensitivity that goes hand in hand with being untouched threatening to break you. “God,” he groans to himself when he tastes you on his tongue, “that sweet, sweet pussy I’ve missed so much.”

another swipe with his velvet tongue and you shudder, pushing your palm down on the crown of his head to keep his face buried in your sex, as if begging him to stay down there forever. “Fuck.” you whisper, through grit teeth. “Don't tease me, Drake,” you try to warn, playfully, but it comes out broken as he laps at your nether lips like a dutiful puppy, “don’t tease!”

“I’m savoring,” he replies with a husky chuckle, blowing hot breath on your vulnerable flesh, “enjoying every inch of your perfect cunt, making sure I don’t miss a single spot. I wanna worship you, baby.” the words flow like liquid sugar from his lips that he then presses to your needy sex and you’re putty for him to play with as he chooses. a flustered moan erupts from within the depths of your throat when Nate’s dastardly tongue plunges deep into your wanton entrance, your walls mistaking it for his manhood and fluttering with glee as if to draw him back inside of you. he doesn’t seem to mind, however, and hums in sordid delight, both hands grasping your quivering thighs. the bridge of his nose rests against your swollen clit as he explores your sensitive depths, and provides the perfect angle for you to rock your hips and grind your button against it with a string of sultry moans laced with whispers of his name lingering on your tongue. “Nathan, oh my god—“ while the other keeps a killer grip on his hair, your free hand claws at the top of one of his. he loosens one vice on your leg to hold your hand, a smile pressed to your skin. his teeth graze your labia and you mewl with delight.

you’re squirming, thrashing about in the mud while his head bobs between your hips, his lips caressing your throbbing core and his tongue taunting your clenching walls by prodding at them. an orgasm is brewing in your belly, hot and bubbly, and you want to stall it for as long as you can. you aren’t ready for this to be over, and you fear that your climax will be just enough to satisfy Nate, and you’ll be forced to return to reality. no. not yet, please. you need to feel him, all of him. you need him inside, you’re dying to feel the way he stretches you open and pumps deep. you want to hear his moaning, the incoherent babbling when he’s on the brink of cumming. don’t let it end so soon. “I can’t take much more,” you warn, breathless, and arch, throwing your head back, “I need you, Nate! Please, just fuck me already, for Christ’s sake!” as if your plea wasn’t enough, you take advantage of the grip on his tendrils to pull his head back, and inch back from him.

not only are those damn, kissable lips of his glossy with your juices, but his jaw is smeared with mud and his eyes are wild and dark— dilated with fiery passion.

the immediate barrenness between your thighs as you were on the cusp of orgasm has you shivering, nearly convulsing, and you close your eyes and swallow hard. “Just… fuck me…” your eyelids flutter slow, and part to see him on his knees, tearing his belt off. “Please.”

“Ask and ye shall receive, baby girl.” Nate answers, his voice low and raspy. utter depravity has seeped into him, turning him from a man to a desperate beast. you watch with bated breath, elbows dug into the mud below you, as he pops the button of his cargoes open and pushes them down. you’re almost surprised there were no sounds of ripping fabric by how aggressive he was. in another moment, he was looming over you, palm slammed into the mud beside your head, while the other hand busies itself by hitching your legs up on to his waist. you lock them in place by your ankles behind him and hold both sides of his neck. slipping between your bodies, he grasps his throbbing erection and guides it to the promised land. as you feel his girth splitting you open, you moan in unison with Nathan and close your eyes. “Fuck, I needed this.” he drops his head to whisper it against the shell of your ear as he begins to rut into you.

for all the times you’ve made love to Nathan, it had never been so fiercely desperate. every thrust into you was deep and calculated, reaching his hilt and drawing back to repeat the jab with so much force that your breasts ripple like disturbed water each and every time. each oscillation is punctuated by a forcefully expelled breathy moan from you; your nails bite at his dirty shoulders, leaving hot trails wherever they dig in. he’s panting already, in your ear, and telling you how much he loves you. how much he adores you. how much he missed you.

your interior grips him so tightly that you’re convinced you could never let him pull out, and your hips undulate to meet every, single, powerful thrust. the sound of his balls slapping against your posterior is an afterthought, as is the splashing of mud when your bodies collide, because you can focus on nothing. nothing but Nathan and the way he fills you to the point of bursting.

“You’re so fucking warm,” he croaks in your ear, panting, “so warm and tight. I fit so good inside you, god, feel that? God! You’re perfect, baby girl—! Made for me! Yes, fuck, yes!”

purring is your safest response, because you doubt you’ll be able to form any kind of coherent reply, but you nod vigorously, and arch your back, one hand inching up to pet his hair as if to tell him that he’s doing good. he’s fucking you just the way you want.

that’s when it happens. when he shifts your legs higher on his torso to pound you deeper and plunges into your sweet spot. your knees dig into his ribs like spurs, his name is a mantra upon your tongue, cried beneath your ragged breath for only him to hear. “More, more, more!” it’s the only other word that makes sense in the moment, the calm before the orgasmic storm that he’s driving you towards.

“More?” he asks, breathy and desperate for your approval, “you like it? Right there?” after each question, he doubles down, practically drilling you into the mud until you’re nodding, head lolling about on your shoulders, and your eyes are rolling back. you’ve no time to warn him— your climax hits you like a freight train and suddenly, you’re unraveling before him. “Cumming, pretty girl? Fuck, it’s been too long since I saw you lose yourself. So beautiful, come on, baby.” he repeats it, encourages your orgasm to take every one of your senses and leave you a trembling pile of fucked out bliss.

the visage itself, as you shudder and moan for him, flail and try to escape your own ecstasy, is more than enough to send him into a frenzy. both hands grasp at your supple hips, fingers digging into your flesh, and his weight pins you down as he drives himself home deeper, faster, harder, until you’re seeing stars and he’s crying your name with a hoarse throat.

“N—Nate…” you whine, a broken version of his name, “cum for me, baby… come on…” combing your fingers through his hair as he comes undone, you purr and mewl and moan for him, your body weakened from the ferocity of your own climax.

Nathan is still moaning, albeit much more muted, when he pulls out of your body, drizzling your inner thighs with his seed as more oozes from your palpitating hole. “You did so good, baby,” you coo, caressing his cheek with your dirty palm. you’ve not the strength to sit up just yet, but you push the messy, brown tendrils away from his forehead. “So good.”

for a long few seconds, Nathan doesn’t speak. his panting is slowing down to an almost-normal rhythm, and he simply rubs you anywhere he can touch. your belly, your leg, your breast. staring, quietly.

“Tell me what’s on your mind?”

he smiles, leans forward, and kisses your forehead. “No more adventures without my partner in crime, that's what’s on my mind.”

#nathan drake #nate drake #nathan drake x reader #nathan drake x you #nathan drake smut #nathan drake imagine #Nate drake x reader #nate drake x you #nate drake smut #nate drake imagine #uncharted #uncharted smut #uncharted imagine #uncharted 4

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moodmusicmonday · 2 years ago

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Whoop! Whoop! Another amazing mix for y'all to put on as you go about your day! Seriously! Just click on the playlist above, and BAM! Now you have a little part of the FANDOM wherever you go!

Thank you writers for sending in your songs! And as always, your support, both creators and readers, make this blog possible, so thank you so much for interacting with us! We love y'all!

Stay tuned for a special announcement about NEXT week!

~🎵~

@ao719

“Flicker” - Niall Horan; Best Kept Secrets, Chapter 4: It Echoes A Spark (TRR; Liam Rys x f!OC)

“I’m Doing Fine” - Mike Waters; Breaking Point, Chapter 9: I Need Your Hand But I Don’t Want To Burn It (TRR; Liam Rys x MC)

@bebepac

“The Good Part” - AJR; The Rotten Apple, Chapter 14, Finale: The Good Part [TRH & Beyond; Eleanor (Elle) x m!OC (Nico); Liam x Riley]

@kat-tia801

“Night Falls” - Sam Riggs; Written in the Stars, Part 6: The Hole in Your Heart That You Can’t Shake [TRR AU; Drake Walker x f!OC (Zoe Adamos)]

“Wilderness” - Brave Holiday (series inspo); All The Things We Run From ☆NEW☆ mini-series (OPH; Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

@peonierose

Losing Game one-shot [OPH; Bryce Lahela x f!OC (Luna Auclair)]

- ”Arcade” - Duncan Laurence

- “Back to Back” - Duncan Laurence, Wrabel

~🎵~

@21-wishes @alj4890 @ao719 @atsuinawa @aussiegurl1234 @axwalker @bebepac @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choicesmonthlychallenge @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @karahalloway @kat-tia801 @lovingchoices14 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @peonierose @queenrileyrose @quixoticdreamer16 @sfb123 @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @zaffrenotes

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dangerousstrawberryshark · 3 years ago

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VOTE! (NOT FOR A FIC BUT A CHARACTER/CELEBRITY)

So, I'm gonna cancel the yandere series, I really like this one (The Pharaoh x male reader). And because I have never seen one that involves Pharaoh x male reader.

Same rules:

PICK ONE CHARACTER! (Don't say [Character 1] or [Character 2] you must pick or I'll choose for you

You MUST put it in the comments. If you can't type in the comments or you want to stay anonymous, send me an ask with your vote and I'll add it in the comments.

Edward Cullen

Carlisle Cullen

Jasper Hale

Emmett Cullen

Jacob Black

Caius

Aro

Marcus

Demetri

Sam Uley

Garett

Tony Stark

Peter Parker (Bumping up his age)

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Thor Odinson

Clint Barton

Pietro Maximoff

Scott Lang

Bruce Banner

Dr. Strange

Loki

Venom

Deadpool

Helmut Zemo

Falcon

Izuku Midoriya

Dabi

Katsuki Bakugou

Mirio Togata

Tenya Lida

All Might

Enji Todoroki/Endeavor

Hawks

Eijiro Kirishima

Shoto Todoriki

Chris Hemsworth

Chris Evans

Robert Downey Jr.

Shawn Mendes

Tom Holland

Jeremy Renner

Sebastian Stan

Henry Cavill

Zac Efron

Colby Brock

Brennen Taylor

Sebastian Stan

Jensen Ackles

Jared Padalecki

Anthony Mackey

Aaron Taylor Johnson

Misha Collins

Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Matt Cohen

Bryan Dechart

Joe Manganiello

Pedro Pascal

Kim Nam-Joon/RM

Kim Seok-JIn

Min Yoongi

Jung Ho-Seok

Park Ji-Min

Kim Tae-Hyung

Jeon Jung-Kook.

James McAvoy

Ryan Reynolds

Robert Pattinson

Hugh Jackman

Johnny Depp

Scott Eastwood

Jared Leto

Ben Affleck

Ewan McGregor

Channing Tatum

Luke Evans

Tom Hiddleston

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

John Winchester

Lucifer

Crowley

Jack Kline

Young John (Michael)

Dean (Michael)

Adam (Micheal)

Archie Andrews

Jughead Jones

Reggie Mantle

Kevin Keller

Hiram Lodge

Malachai

F. P. Jones

Fangs Fogarty

Eren Jaeger

Levi Ackerman

Erwin Smith

Jean Kirstein

Reiner Braun

Kenny Ackerman

Bertolt Hoover

Clark Kent/Superman

Bruce Wayne/Batman

Arthur Curry/Aquaman

Billy Batson/Shazam (Bumping up his age)

Hal Jordan/Green Lantern

Dick Grayson

Jason Todd

Damian Wayne

Tim Drake

Barry Allen/The Flash

Oliver Queen/Green Arrow

Captain Cold

Captain Atom

Chris Redfield

Leon S. Kennedy

Albert Wesker

Carlos Oliveira

Ethan Winters

Karl Heisenberg

Piers Nivans

Mr. X

Cole Young

Johnny Cage

Scorpion

Kui Liang

Damon Salvatore

Stefan Salvatore

Klaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Jeremy Gilbert

Tyler Lockwood

Matt Donovan

Tobio Kageyama

Kei Tuskishima

Toru Oikawa

Tetsuro Kuroo

Asahi Azumane

Daichi Sawamura

Wakatoshi Ushijima

Hajime Iwaizumi

Kotaro Bokuto

Satoru Gojo

Kento Nanami

Aoi Todo

Toji Fushiguro

Ryomen Sukuna

Brahms Heelshire

Jason Voorhees

Michael Myers

Stu Matcher

Billy Loomis

Hannibal Lector

Will Graham

Norman Bates

Pyramid head

Sweeney Todd.

Bobby Drake

Scott Summers

Logan Howlett

Erik Lehnsherr

Young Professor X

Scott Mccall

Derek Hale

Peter Hale

Chris Argent

Andy Barber

Ransom Drysdale

Geralt of Rivia

Ian

Mickey

Collin Shea

Johnny Storm

Jake Jensen

Ari Levinson

Tanner Grayton

RK800 (CONNOR)

RK900 (NINES?)

Gavin Reed

#vote #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #male reader imagine

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press-x-to-simp · 3 years ago

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Friends Don’t Do This - Part 1 Nathan Drake Fanfiction

Fandom: Uncharted

Word Count: 4,404

Characters: Nathan Drake x Reader (F)

Summary: You and Nathan have been best friends since you’ve been twelve when meeting at Saint Francis Home. You are both now in your mid 20′s and have to go on a mission with Sam, Sully and Elena. What happens when tensions rise and jealousy is stirred?

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of angst (more to come), swearing, a few sexual innuendos, kissing, jealousy, teasing, fake relationship, use of weapons and Sam being a lovable idiot.

This is our first story that we are posting here. Hope you guys enjoy!

“Promise me you won't leave me.” A 12-year-old Y/N pleads.

“I promise.” A 13-year-old Nathan reassures.

“Do you mean it?” Y/N asks.

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“I mean it. We will escape Saint Francis Home together.” Nathan promises.

“We shouldn't be far.” Sully announces.

You hear, snapping out of your daydream. It had been 12 years since that day. The day you two promised to always stay by each other’s side.

“Hey, you okay?” Nathan asks you.

“Yeah, I'm fine just thinking.” You respond.

“Anything worth sharing?” Nathan curious.

“No, just gone away with my thoughts.” You answer not wanting to relive the memory.

“You are okay back there love birds?” Sam jokes.

“Shut up Sam you do this every time.” Nathan sighs.

“Yeah, you got to stop with that shit Sam.” You agree.

“Kissing Y/N would be like kissing my sister.” Nathan grimaces.

“Well, you don't have a sister you have a brother, so it's like kissing your brother?” Sam retaliates as Nathan groans “God can you just drop it? That was one time.”

You and Sully burst out laughing but you then remember Nathan’s words and hide behind a fake smile. Sully looks into the rear-view mirror and notices your slight change. Sam does the same they both look at each other and slightly shake their heads.

Nathan is completely oblivious to their looks and even more oblivious to your changing demeanour.

You look back out the window and start drifting back into your thoughts, this time the memory of Nathan breaking that promise.

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“Okay we’ll meet on the roof at 10. Bring what you need. Sam will meet us by the front gate.” Nathan explains

“Are you sure this is going to work?” You start to worry.

“You have nothing to be afraid of. I'm here. We’ll get through this together.” Nathan holds your hands and looks deeply into your eyes reassuring you.

“I trust you.” You smile at Nathan.

“You ready to do this?” Nathan asks.

“Ready than ever.” You respond confidently.

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“We're here.” Sully says.

“About time.” Sam sasses.

“You're telling me kid.” Sully remarks back.

You once again get snapped out of your thoughts. They exit the car and take in their surroundings, the beautiful greenery blooming around you all.

“Oh, wow.” You say in awe.

“I know.” Nathan agrees as he lets out a breath.

“What a great view” he says looking at you.

Sam looks towards the two friends and notices Nathan’s lingering look at you. Sam nudges Sully and nods his head towards you both, not that you notice, and both share a knowing look.

You pull out a map opening it and checking your route. Nathan still looking at you, moves towards you and then guides his attention to the map you lay out on the car.

“Right Y/N, where we off to now?” Nathan put his arms around you as he leans on you.

“I'm glad you asked Nate. I have no fucking idea.” You look up at him and you both share a look. Both of you start to laugh as Sully and Sam chuckle at the two bantering.

“Am I crazy or are those two totally into each other?” Sam quietly asks Sully.

“Well, you are crazy kid but not about this. Those two have liked each other for a while but I don’t think it's liking anymore.” Sully validates.

“You think it's the big L Word oh wise one?” Sam says.

Sully quickly side eyes Sam not appreciating the sarcasm but responds, nevertheless. “Yes, I do but they're just too blind to see it.”

They look back out to Nathan and you who are continuing your playful conversation, “It’s gone beyond that.” Sully continues.

“Alright guys I think it's…” You start to look at every different route around them until you pick one, “…This one.” However, there's a sense of hesitation.

“You sure about that kid?” Sully asked her not quite sure himself.

“No but what's the worst that could happen?” You reply.

“How reassuring.” Sam comments.

“Wait Elena’s supposed to meet us here.” Nathan unveils.

You and Sam look at each other confused to the information of this new addition.

You take this moment to ask, “Elena?”

“Yeah, Elena. She’ll be helping us out.” Nathan answers.

“How did you guys meet?” Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Well do you remember the mission I went on to find Shambhala?” Nathan reminds you.

“Yeah?” You reply eager to find out more.

“Well, she’s a journalist. She was covering the story of Lazarević. She almost got herself killed but I jumped in and saved her last minute, from then on, we’ve worked together.” Nathan clarifies.

“And when were you gonna tell me this?” You question raising an eyebrow.

“Why do you care?” he laughs. “You’re acting like a clingy girlfriend. Besides, I didn't think it was that important” Nathan continues.

You see Nathan joking about the situation, “I pity the girl who becomes your girlfriend Drake.”

“Hilarious.” Nathan punches your shoulder playfully.

Sam and Sully share another look as they hear a car in the distance. As it approaches, you start to see the woman who's been on Drake's mind. The car halts and a beautiful blonde woman walks out. Nathan turns around and spots the petite woman as he happily welcomes her, “Elena so good to see you. Glad you could make it.” Nathan says enthusiastically.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, cowboy.” She replies smiling.

Nathan strides towards Elena engulfing her in a big hug. You let out a sigh glaring daggers into Elena. Cowboy? Since when did she have a nickname for him?

You turn to look at Sam and Sully as if to ask did you know about this? They both shrugged as if replying no idea. You look back at them who are still holding their hug. Elena breaks from the hug noticing Sam, “Oh my God you must be Sam. I've heard so much about you.”

“Yes, if you were wondering, all the rumours are true.” Sam grins sending her a wink.

“Oh, and the infamous Sully. Great to see you in person now.” Elena greets.

“Well nice to put a face to the voice kid.” Sully answers.

She turns to look at you and walks up to you, “Oh you’re (wrong name), right?” Elena asks.

“It's Y/N actually.” You respond gritting your teeth.

“Oh, right sorry. Nate hasn't really said much about you.” Elena informs.

This makes you laugh a little spitefully, “Well at least he's talked about me, this is the first time I'm hearing about you.”

Elena tightens her smile, “Oh well I'm sure there's just too much to say.” Elena challenges.

You clench your fists, “I'm sure there is.”

Nate walks over to you both and puts his arms around you, “Glad to see that you’re both getting along. I knew you would.” If only he really knew the thoughts swimming through your minds.

“Yeah, she's a pleasure.” You comment, a dead silence remains between you three as you and Elena size each other up luckily Sully comes over and breaks the tension, “I think it's about time we get moving.”

Sam claps his hands, “Great idea old man.” Sully quickly cuts in, “Don't call me that.”

Sam ignores his request, “I vote we go that way.” He points in the same direction as you did which makes you laugh as you use this as an excuse to break away from the awkward hug.

“Hey that's what I said.” You walk up to Sam.

“Well great minds think alike huh.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you in. Nathan notices this, his jaw clenching not comfortable with how close you two seem to be getting.

“Well, I say you guys follow us in that case.” Sam says still with his arm wrapped around you as everyone walks towards the direction. Sully recognises what Sam is pulling as he observes Nathan’s reaction. He chuckles to himself shaking his head, “You're a smart one Sam.” saying under his breath.

Sam pulls you in front, “I need a chat with you kiddo.” A laugh sounds from the back of the group as Sully looks over at you two amused. “Kiddo? Really? What are you trying to do replace me over there? I'm not on my death bed yet kid.”

“Well then you'll just have to watch your back old man.” Sam says trying to rustle his jimmies. Your group laughs at the pairs comedic banter.

Sam pulls you in once again, “Anyways before we were rudely interrupted.” Sam emphasises.

“Hey, I heard that kid.” Sully shouts back.

“Yeah, you were meant to.” Sam says back.

“I wanted to have a little heart to heart because you're my little sis well I mean I see you as my little sis but you're not actually my little-“ Sam gets cut off, “Okay Sam, where are you going with this?” You cut in.

Sam looks back to make sure no one hears as he notices Nathan and Elena deep in conversation. He turns back to you, “So what do you think of Nathan and Elena eh?”

“Pfft, what? Why are you asking me about that?” You stutter stumbling over your words. Sam raises his eyebrows staring at you as if he could read your mind.

“I – I don't have any comments.” You reply dismissively.

“I've known you for a very long time. I know you like the back of my hand. You can be honest with me.” Sam expresses.

“There's nothing to be honest about Sam. I don't know what you're trying to get out of me.” You grow frustrated.

“I think someone's got a little crush.” Sam reveals as your eyes widen. Had you been that obvious?

“Whatttttt?” You drag out as your voice gains in pitch. “No.” You deny.

“See the thing here my dear friend is I don't trust you.” Sam presses.

“Well, Sam believe what you want but I still don't have any idea what you're talking about.” You defend.

“Whatever you say. I mean it's your romantic funeral and it's their wedding I'll be attending.” Sam throws in.

You glare at Sam, “Why are you so interested in my love life Sam? The last time I've heard you’re single. You’re not doing great with the ladies, are you?”

Sam laughs and replies, “Well, it just wouldn't be fair if I was tied down to one woman where they all want me. I've gotta keep it fair.”

“Disgusting. You really are a ladies’ man aren't you, Sam?” You sarcastically respond.

“I am a man for the ladies.” Sam winks.

“Charming.” You sigh.

Sam laughs and pulls you closer. Sam hears that Nathan and Elena’s conversation has paused. He discreetly turns his head to the side to look behind him. He notices Nathan staring at your proximity shooting daggers at his arm touching you which somehow snaked around your waist. Thoughts run through Nathan’s mind. How come you seemed so okay with this? You’re completely fine with his hands around your waist. You seem almost comfortable in the feeling.

Nathan doesn't like this as Sam notices Nathan's glance and decides to push further. He comes closer and leans into you and whispers, “I'm charming for you baby.”

You giggle, “Sam Drake, you are quite a man not a gentleman. But a man.” As you nudge him Nathan lets out a breath, he didn't even realise he was holding. He sees that there is now a distance between you as he goes back to talking to Elena.

Sam looks back and says, “I'll tell you what is charming those two getting chummy back there.” You quickly turn your head to witness the interaction with your own eyes.

“Ha! I knew it.” Sam exclaims as you turn back to him. “You like Nate.” He confirms.

“What makes you say that?” Your anxiety heightens.

“There's a whole list of things honey but I don't think you want me to go through them.” Sam replies matter of fact.

You finally give up, “I don't know it's complicated he's my best friend. We’ve best friends since I was 12. Nothing can ruin it not even some bubblehead blonde bimbo.”

“I think someone is jealous” Sam teases.

“Sam shut up.” You shush him.

“Hey, I'm coming from a place of love” as he dramatically places his hand to his chest. “Because I care about you.”

“Oh, how sweet of you Sam…now shut up.” You demand.

“Look I've got an idea. I think it'll help-“ Sam gets interrupted.

“Whatever you gotta say I'm not listening. All your ideas are dumb, and they either don't work or gets us almost killed.”

“This might do both but in the best way.” Sam smirks.

Thinking that there's no choice but to pay attention you agree to listen to Sam's stupid idea, “Alright hit me with it.”

“I say we test Natey Watey's limits.” Sam discloses.

“What do you mean?” You question.

“How about we act as, you know we got something going on if you know what I mean.” He winks at you.

“No, I don't.” You say confused.

“I'm saying we try to make him jealous. Just to test the waters but I think it may work out for the best.” He speaks.

“Okay and what makes you say that? He doesn't he doesn't feel that way about me.” You look to the side.

“Well, he sure as hell doesn't feel that way about Elena.” Sam admits.

“I wish that were true.” You look down sadly.

Sam sighs, “Hey it’s their wedding you’ll be attending if you don't try this out.”

“What makes you think this will work?” You press.

“I know my brother and I know you. There's something between you two. You guys can't ignore that feeling as if it’s not there. You’ve got to give it a chance.” Sam says softly.

“Yeah well, he left me once, how do I know he won't do it again?” You admit your fears.

Sam looks at her understanding her worry, “I know you’re still mad but what really happened is –“ He’s quickly cut off as Nate walks between you two pointing ahead, “We're here.” Nathan's voice is rough and sharp as he stands in-between Sam and you completely separating you two.

“I guess your way was right Y/N.” He smiles at you.

“Oh, I know I was right cowboy.” You joke.

“Hey, you haven't used that since we were 16. I thought we were over that.” Nathan turns to you grinning.

“Hah you wish cowboy.” You wink at him as you walk ahead. Elena witnessing the conversation mumbles, “Bitch.” under her breathe. Sully hears this and rolls his eyes disapprovingly. You were like a daughter to him and Drake like a son, he wouldn't let anyone ruin your friendship or anything else that may come with it.

As they walk ahead Nathan quickly pulled you back, “Guards up ahead. I say the best thing we do is-“ Sam cuts him off, “Y/N and I will scout ahead while you guys wait back here.”

Nathan quickly looks Sam, “Why? You know Y/N and I always do that.” Nathan argues.

“Thought I'd change it up for this trip little bro.” Sam quickly winks at you who giggles.

“You know you usually have bad ideas but this one is not your worst.” Nathan quickly looks to you, “You're not serious, are you? He's not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

You look Nathan up and down and before you could come up with a response, Sam steps forward wrapping an arm around you, “Not the sharpest tool in the shed but definitely the best in bed I'll see you later little bro.” and walk off with you.

Nathan goes to follow you and Sam, but Sully quickly pulls him down, “You trying to get us killed kid?” Sully rhetorically asks.

“No but Sam's trying to get Y/N killed.” Nathan proclaims.

“Yeah, well you're going to get us all killed if you don't stay here.” Sully tells him.

“But-“ Nathan begins to say but Elena cuts him off, “Well it's better two get killed rather than five. Come on, we can cut our losses.” Sully looks at Elena stunned. Nathan too angry to process his thoughts agrees, “Yeah I guess you're right.”

Sully looks at Nathan, “You can't mean that.”

“Well, they don't want to listen to us anyways.” Nathan dismisses.

Sully shocked by this unrecognisable Nathan scoffs, “I taught you better than that kid.” as he gets into hiding position and checks over his gun just in case something was to go down with the enemy or maybe someone in the group. Nathan realises what he says and looks down ashamed regretting his words.

Sam pulls you behind a fence on a ledge which becomes your hiding spot as you would not be seen in plain sight.

“Did you see the steam coming out of his ears.” Sam laughs to you.

“What were you thinking? We just left them behind Sam. You know we don't leave each other behind.” You defend.

“Oh, he'll get over it.” Sam dismisses, “We're fine okay. Look.” Sam notices Sully leading the group as they come to their position. Sam expects Sully to be giving him a thumbs up for his brilliant plan but when he sees how mad he is and how Sully slowly shakes his head, he knows somethings gone horribly wrong. He looks to you with an unsure look but nods determinedly ready to go ahead with your plan whether it makes you and Nathan or breaks you.

Sully speaks quietly to the group, “Alright let's just finish this mission up quick kids I'm sensing this place is getting toxic for all of us and I'm not just talking about those toxic fumes that they seem to be letting off.”

Sam cheekily winks at you, and you look away with a sigh. Is this what you really wanted to do?

Sam goes behind one of the guards and stealthily takes him down while you go to the other Sully looking out for you on watch. You two see Nathan and Elena on the other side doing the exact same however Elena drops her gun making an echoed noise as it announces their presence. The guards quickly look towards the direction of the sound not seeing the group yet.

“Oh crap.” Nathan groans as he pulls Elena back to the hiding spot as gun fires can be heard and bullets whizzing through the air. Nathan looks back Sully and Sam, “Get the two girls back to a safe position, I'm going to hold them off.”

You scoff and look back at him, “No way in hell we're leaving you back here alone.” Sam grins and takes this as his chance, “Yep you heard the guy, Sully, Elena let's go.”

Before Elena can protest Sam grabs her wrist and starts pulling her off as she turns around to try and get back to Nathan. Sully stands between them and motions for her to follow him.

You quickly go up to Nathan, “You know I can protect myself. I can help you.”

Nathan looks at you, “I don't want to take that chance. Go.”

You slowly stand up reluctant to leave, “I'm not a kid anymore Nathan, I can protect myself. I mean I had to learn how to right?”

Nathan looks to you, “I know that more than anyone else, but I can't live with myself if something happened to you. Please, just go.”

You shake your head, “No I'm not leaving you.”

Nathan grits his teeth, “I'm surprised you didn't take the chance to run off with Sam anyway.”

You roll your eyes as you respond, “Don't be like that.”

“Don't be like that?” Nathan questions his voice raises. “You were all over him a second ago.”

“Nathan are we really going to be arguing about this now? Shots are literally being fired at us.” You persist.

“Well, if we’re about to die. I want to know at least if you're trying to fuck my brother.” Nathan says.

“Jeez Nathan.” You huff.

“Don’t be shy.” Nathan doesn’t give up.

You angry at this accusation shout, “Yes, okay?! I'm trying to fuck Sam. Happy?”

Annoyance and irritation fire up in Nathan’s eyes, “Happy?” He seethes.

“It's been a while since I've had any.” You continue.

Sam quickly runs back and grabs your arm, “Alright you two. We really, really need to go. You can continue this conversation after we're not dead.”

Nathan chuckles and shakes his head, “Speaking of the devil. Why don’t you just jump him now.”

“Do you know what Nathan? I will.” You glare at Nathan as you grab Sam's belt pulling him closer, “You ready to go Sam?” Sam clears his throat getting nervous, “If it means that we're not going to die yes.”

Nathan glares at his older brother feeling a deep betrayal, “Well if they don't kill you I might.” He retorts to Sam.

“Nathan what's gone into you?” Sam says. “I've never seen you like this. Never seen you so angry.” He smirks.

“Yeah, wouldn't you be angry if your brother was trying to fuck their best friend?!” He exclaims.

You’re taken aback, he's not mad because he's jealous of your possible romance, he's mad because it's weird to know that his brother would want to sleep with his best friend.

Best friend, he made that clear.

You cut in, “Well Nathan as my best friend. I don't think it gives you the right to tell me who I can or can't sleep with. Now, can we stop talking about my sex life and please just go? Nathan you're coming with us you're not staying here.” You demand.

Nathan is about to protest when a gunshot flies past him hitting the wall next to him, “Alright but we're talking about this later.” You three start running back off into the forest as the guards see you and run after you. You hear footsteps behind you chasing after you. Sam is ahead of Nathan and you as you hear the footsteps grow closer, you reach a town filled with people.

Nathan takes in the surroundings quickly constructing a plan as he looks everywhere no longer seeing Sam. You look at him, “Nathan what do we do?”

He quickly looks behind seeing the guards approaching the town, “They'll find us if we try to run. We've got to hide.”

He quickly pulls you and pushes you up against the pillar not completely hidden enough. Knowing you were not invisible; Nathan knows there needs to be another step taken.

He diverts his eyes and sees the guards making their way to their area looking in every direction. He looks to you as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours and says against your lips, “Don't make a sound.” He captures your lips with his own. One hand resting above your head against the pillar and the other on your waist pulling you in to a deeper kiss. This would make you seem like a young couple in love. He knew the guards wouldn't question it and they would pass as any other couple. Once he hears the guards have left, he slowly pulls away and looks into your eyes as you look up into his and for a moment, you both could see something you didn't know what, but something changed.

It seems Nathan was going to lean back in for more, but you place your hand against his chest and say, “I think they're gone.”

Nathan still not finding his words slowly nods and replies slightly out of breath, “Yeah I think we're okay” he pulls back away from you still looking at you. Eye contact never breaking.

Sully runs back in and finds you both, “Finally, there you are guys, I was worried sick. Did you manage to get rid of them?”

Nathan still looking at you, “Yeah we did.”

You nod along and are the first break the eye contact as you look at Sully, “Yeah we're good for now.” You speak.

Elena comes in and notices the tension between Nathan and you. She didn’t like it.

“Oh my God Nathan. Are you okay?” She quickly grabs his arms to make him face her. She plants her hands against his cheeks making sure there's no wounds. Nathan still out of breath replies, “Yeah, yeah I'm okay.” He pauses. “Are you okay Y/N?” His eyes dart back to you.

“Apart from the heart attack you almost gave me, yeah I’m doing pretty good.” You joke to relieve the tension.

He lets out a laugh sharing the moment that is until Sam comes to them, “Y/N you good?”

“Yes, I'm fine, don't worry. Not even a scratch.” You smile at him, comforting him.

Sam lets out a sigh of relief, “Good.”

Nathan looks towards Sam, his nose flaring his jaw clenching. The anger had not yet left as he thinks about the kiss. Would you kiss Sam like that? Would you kiss him like that again? Your his best friend, he can’t think of you like that.

“Maybe I should implement that plan more often.” Nathan quips with a hint of seriousness.

Elena cuts in, “What plan?” oblivious about their escape.

You chuckle a little sadly, “I'm not sure if my heart can take it.”

Nathan looks sadly at you, “Mine either.”

As you look at each other, Sam looks between you, “Wow this is lovely and all, but I don't think we should stick around. They're probably going to come and check this area once more.”

Sully nods along, “I agree. Let’s head back this way.” As Sully leads you all, you look at Nathan once more entranced by what just happened but then is quickly reminded of the one memory clouding your mind.

You quickly turn around and walk ahead as Sam follows. Nathan’s eyes still following as if he didn't want to lose sight of you again.

“Hey Nate, you okay?” He hears another voice almost forgetting Elena was here.

He takes a moment before he replies, “I don't know.”

Elena follows his eyeline, jealousy brewing within her, “Well let's go.” She tugs on his arm, he looks down finally breaking sight of you, looking at Elena, “Yeah we should catch up with the others.” as they follow behind.

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