#ex machina fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alwaysmicado · 3 months

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predator & prey

8.6k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: consensual non-consent, restraints, manhandling, face slapping, hard choking, rough p in v sex, biting, creampie, pain kink, degradation/praise, subdrop, aftercare, soft(ish) Nathan Summary: Nathan fulfills your fantasy of being taken in the woods. Can you handle it? A/N: Living in the middle of nowhere has its perks...Can be read alone or as an extension of in control. I'm so beyond excited to finally share this with you!! It's been wreaking havoc in my brain for months now. Enjoy the ride and let me know what you think! 🖤

As the last rays of the setting sun dip below the horizon, casting the world into a deep indigo hue, Nathan grabs the neatly folded pile of clothes, your trail running shoes, and his backpack. Still in your sweats, you’re taken aback when he steps into your office, his hand finding your shoulder.

“Put these on,” he tells you, his voice betraying no particular emotion. He hands you a pair of jeans in your size and an oversized, white t-shirt, along with a nude bra and panties. You swallow and look up at him, catching the subtle glint in his eyes.

“Time to go.”

You dress as instructed, your fingers deftly lace up your shoes, and the two of you set off.

The crisp air gently nibbles at your cheeks, and the faint glow of twilight casts a soft ambiance as the crunch of leaves and gravel beneath your feet echoes through the stillness around you. The air holds a charged energy, and each one of your steps carries a weight of anticipation. Your muscles are tense, your senses heightened, acutely aware of what lies ahead.

Nathan’s demeanor is casual. He’s smiling, asking about your day, about the project that’s been giving you a headache for the past two weeks. You give him a semi-honest answer, admitting that you’ve been stressed, but omitting the fact that you’ve cried yourself to sleep over it more than once.

“You’ll figure it out,” he reassures you with a soft smile. Your furrowed brow meets his confident gaze, and for a moment, you study his face. He’s sincere.

You’re used to discussing your work with Nathan, it’s what you’re living with him for, after all. And despite your…complicated relationship with him, he has never questioned your professional skills.

That’s all on you. Your perfectionism is draining.

As you reach the edge of the woods after a half-hour march along the river, darkness begins to cloak you like a shroud. The trees whisper secrets, and the unknown looms like a specter in the night. Nathan activates the small portable light attached to his backpack, rolls his shoulders, and fixes his gaze on you.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and excitement courses through your veins, fueled by a potent blend of curiosity and trepidation.

“You know what’s about to happen,” he says calmly, tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers to search your eyes. “Take a deep breath. We’re not starting until you’re ready.”

You take a moment to gather yourself, inhaling the grounding scent of earth and pine, your eyes locked onto his.

“Choose a path and make sure you memorize it. Be aware of your surroundings and where you’re going. Do not look back.” He rubs your cheek softly with his thumb as his dark eyes pierce your soul.

Sensing the rough leather of his gloves against your skin sends a chill down your spine as memories of pain and pleasure flood your mind.

These gloves have choked you until you passed out, just to slap you awake again. They’ve penetrated all your holes simultaneously, teasing you, stretching you, making you come over and over again. They’ve split your lip, caressed your cheek, spread Nathan’s cum all over your face, wiped away your tears.

There’s no part of your body they haven’t thoroughly explored in a tantalizing dance between violent and soft touches.

And Nathan only ever wears them for you.

As you study the man in front of you, the only man you’d willingly follow into the unknown, his presence feels both reassuring and elusive—a paradox you’ve come to not only accept but cherish. The intricate interplay of familiarity and mystery that shapes your connection is not just comforting; it’s irresistibly alluring.

In his all-black attire, he presents an effortlessly handsome yet imposing figure. You appreciate the boots on his feet, a deviation from his usual habit of walking around barefoot, and how they seamlessly blend into the darkness of his tactical pants secured by a familiar belt.

While the physical marks from your last encounter may have healed, allowing you to shower and sit down again without writhing in pain, the mere sight of the leather item makes you wince and sends a jolt of electricity through the muscles in your ass cheeks and thighs.

Provoking Nathan is fun, but the consequences hurt. Badly.

Your gaze wanders further up, drawn to the hoodie that tightly embraces his broad frame, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders and the defined contours of his chest. It’s one of your favorite sights, second only to seeing him completely bare. Beneath his glasses, dark eyes fixate on you with a keen intensity, silently assessing the anticipation evident on your face.

Finally, your eyes reconnect with his, and the magnetic force of his gaze draws you into the depths of his desires. You see the lust in his eyes, the look of raw hunger etched across his face. It’s a look you’ve grown to both crave and fear, a look only you bring out of him.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He nods and takes a step back from you, his scowl deepening. “Ten.”

You’re up and running before ‘nine’ even fully leaves Nathan’s lips. You don’t look back as his booming voice echoes behind you. Do you remember the path you chose? Do you know where your feet are carrying you into the mist, through the labyrinth of trees, fast, faster than they’ve ever carried you? You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

Ignore your racing heart, ignore the weight of his presence, ignore the forest closing in around you. You need to run. Run through the shadows, run away from him. Can you feel his eyes on you? The predator’s eyes locked on his prey?

Your time is up. He’s coming for you.

Nathan’s eyes follow you, vigilant, watching as your silhouette disappears into the forest, his heart pounding in his chest. Swiftly, he fastens the chest strap of his backpack, tightens his gloves, turns off the light, and lunges into a run. He’s on your trail.

Can you feel him? Can you feel him chasing you, drawing nearer with every frantic beat of your heart? He’s not going to stop until he catches you.

And you know what happens when he does, don’t you?

You’re sprinting, the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs beneath your shoes creating a frenzied symphony in your haste. Panic creeps in, its icy fingers tightening around your racing heart. The air, now cold and damp, clings to your skin, making you shiver. You run further along the path you’ve chosen, quickly, as quickly as your aching muscles will allow.

Are you scared? Is that why your breath comes in shallow gasps, and your eyes shimmer with unshed tears? Ah, yes. Yes, you are scared. That’s good. You should be. Let the tendrils of fear wrap around your every move, and embrace the primal instinct that tells you to run, run like a rabbit chased by a hungry fox.

He’s going to sink his teeth into your neck and tear you apart, tear you to shreds.

Your cold feet carry you along the path you chose, deeper into the woods, deeper into the darkness. Trees blur past, bathed in moonlight, casting enigmatic figures on the path ahead. You can’t stop. He trails behind, a shadow in the darkness, tracking your scent, treading the path your feet imprinted moments before. Can you hear him panting, can you feel his hot breath on your neck? He’s on your heels, inching closer, so close to catching you, so close to having you.

You’re a fast little bunny, Nathan quietly acknowledges, his hungry gaze capturing a glimpse of your shirt. It only heightens the thrill for him, pursuing someone deserving of his dominance.

Oh, how he’s going to enjoy devouring you.

He’s behind you, pacing himself, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He’s calm and calculated in his hunt for you, his feet carrying him swiftly towards you. You must hear the branches snapping under his heavy boots, you must feel the heat radiating off his body.

How do you feel? Are you afraid or turned on right now? Be honest. He’s not going away, you’re not going to escape him, he’s going to get you. Have you made peace with your fate?

You should have listened to him. Fuck. A fleeting glance backward is all it takes for you to lose your balance and trip over your own feet, twisting your ankle. The harsh ground rushes to meet you, hands breaking your fall, immediately sending a sharp pain through your arms and shoulders from the impact. Gasping for air, on the brink of tears, you fumble back to your feet, rising as quickly as your sore knees permit.

Where are you? Where has fate led you? The urgency to run grips you again, urging you to flee, escape. Start moving—now. Away from him. Are you sure you chose the right path? Darkness envelops you. Your vision is blurry, you’re tired, your body hurts. The echo of your breath lingers, a haunting reminder of your vulnerability. He’s so near, closing in. Why are you doing this?

A surge of adrenaline in your bloodstream propels you forward, numbing the pain in your ankle and legs. You push yourself into a sprint, using all of your determination and strength, ignoring the heart in your chest threatening to explode. Do not stop. No matter how suffocating the open space around you feels now, no matter how much the cold wind bites your face, no matter how much you yearn for respite.

Do not stop.

You keep running, heart pounding, panic rising. You hear him, feel him, know he’s toying with you like a cat playing with the mouse it’s about to rip apart. You like that, don’t you? The anticipation. Dull pain in your muscles slows you down, slows your desperate escape.

Exhaustion and vigilance intermingle, fear collides with excitement, and amidst the confusion, a strange clarity emerges. This is it. He’s here.

He’s on you – you’re free.

Nathan’s weight bears down, the forceful impact knocking the breath out of your lungs, his hands and knees pressing you face down into the unforgiving, cold ground. The weight of his breath, heavy and labored, blends with the earthy scent on your lips, clouding your mind.

“Caught you,” Nathan growls into your ear, his dangerous tone of voice causing your whole body to shudder with an urgent sense of dread. He’s panting, his teeth clenched as he grabs your neck, his gloved fingers painfully digging into your skin, putting his weight on you as you scream and thrash under him. He caught you, he has you, you’re his now.

Your brain races in overdrive as the primal fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, telling you to ‘fight, fight, little bunny’.

Go on, act like you don’t want it.

“No, get off me,” you scream at him, clawing at his hand on your neck, writhing and struggling to escape his grip. You can feel the sneer on his face, can feel his satisfaction with your predicament. Do you really want to resist him? That’s not true, is it? You don’t actually want him to stop, don’t want him to listen to the pathetic pleas leaving your lips. No, no, you don’t want that.

You want him to have you, to take you, to ravage you.

What a sick girl you are.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Nathan snarls, his knees pinning your legs down, his grip on your neck intensifying while his free hand retrieves something from one of his pockets.

“You’re mine now. Mine to take, mine to hurt,” he grabs your chin roughly, his dark eyes boring into you. “And you better believe I’m gonna make it hurt.”

Are you scared of him? He’s stronger than you. He’s going to hurt you. You made him chase you, made him chase what’s his. You’re going to pay for that, little bunny. You’re going to pay for trying to deny him. Can you see the fire burning in his eyes? That’s all for you.

Grabbing your wrist, he forcefully twists your arm behind your back, ignoring your pained groan as you struggle and try to resist. With practiced efficiency, he repeats the motion with your other arm, his gloved fingers digging into your flesh. He needs to use all of his strength to keep your hands in place as he fastens the zip tie tightly around your bare wrists, effectively immobilizing your hands.

You’re bound, restrained—like a little present on a plate, primed and ready for the taking. Does it hurt? Does it hurt to be this helpless, this vulnerable? Struggle all you want. There’s no way you can escape now.

Your fate is sealed.

Nathan manhandles you onto your back, grabbing you by your shoulder, then immediately straddles you and sits on your thighs to keep you pinned down. You can see the dark glint in his eyes and the violent desire painted across his face. Does that make you wet? The lust, the hunger, the raw need he has for you?

He knows, little bunny. You’re so pathetic.

“Fuck you,” you defiantly spit at him, as the subtle smirk on Nathan’s face stirs the rebellious voice simmering in your mind.

It’s the same inner voice that urges you to provoke him when your ass is already black and blue, the voice that tells you to deliberately graze his cock with your teeth, so he’ll grab your neck and fuck your throat harder, the voice that tells you to come without permission, so he’ll overstimulate you until you’re too weak to cry — the voice that tells you you need more.

Nathan strikes you hard across the face, splitting your lip. Tears spill from your eyes, and a surge of adrenaline floods your veins. The impact on your cheek is so intense that your head recoils, seeking refuge away from him, eyes clamped shut in an attempt to find solace in darkness. He denies you that respite.

“Look at me, whore!” His hands are on your throat in an instant, knocking your head against the ground, ruthlessly pressing on your veins, crushing you, choking you.

His eyes blaze with a wild fervor, pupils dilated to an almost feral intensity. The lines on his face contort, a mixture of raw desire and twisted pleasure etched across his features. Desire and dominance intertwine as his gloved fingers tighten even further around your neck, each breath he denies you heightening the predatory satisfaction he feels.

The crushing grip on your throat sends shockwaves of panic through every fiber of your being, alerting your body to resist. Resist him. Resist him or die. With your hands bound behind your back, your struggles are futile, your desperate squirms and frenzied kicks against the unyielding ground only fueling Nathan’s arousal.

Can you taste your own fear on your bloody lips? Delicious, isn’t it?

The world around you blurs, your head spinning, your heart racing, the dark grip of unconsciousness tightening around you. Dumb little bunny, willingly jumping into the fox’s den. What did you think was going to happen?

You’re so helpless under him, so vulnerable, so utterly…human.

Nathan’s cock is so fucking hard it hurts.

Right on the edge, as the vacant look in your eyes hints at a mind detaching from reality, he lets go of your throat with a growl, and takes off his gloves. Convulsing, you desperately gasp and cough and splutter as precious air revives your lungs. Your vision gradually returns, and as you gaze upward through tear-filled eyes, the vast expanse of the night sky unfolds above you, a celestial canvas painted with a myriad of stars.

It’s beautiful. Chaotic. Intimidating. Soothing.

Then, his eyes come into focus. Those deep, dark, intense eyes you could drown in. Wouldn’t that be nice? You see fire in them, hunger, calculated power, and…something else.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re scared,” you hear Nathan pant, his bare hands gripping your cheeks firmly, before he leans in and presses his lips on yours in a messy, violent kiss. You’re still gasping for air, but he doesn’t care. He needs to taste you, to devour you, to claim you as his.

He’s frenzied now, moaning into your mouth, gripping your jaw, sliding his hand under your shirt, along your belly and further up, pulling your bra down. He bites your lip, tasting your blood on his tongue, bruising you, marking you. You sob against his lips, out of breath, in pain, mind reeling, so desperate to be close to him you’re shaking.

He laughs at the pathetic sounds you make as he sucks and bites at the sensitive skin of your neck while hungrily groping your tits, his hand exploring your soft skin, squeezing, twisting, punishing. He tugs at your erect nipples, loving how you arch your back and how your cries echo in the night.

“Scream all you want, baby,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck before peppering soft kisses along your jaw, his free hand moving down your belly and into your pants. “Nobody’s coming to save you.”

You cry and whimper as blood, spit and tears stain your face, giving Nathan exactly what he wants. God, you’re perfect.

He slips his hand into your panties, groaning at the feeling of your wetness, his fingers sliding through your folds, making you moan and clench around nothing when he brushes your swollen clit. You beg him to stop, twisting and pulling your arms back and forth under yourself, trying to wriggle your hands free to push him off. But it’s no use, is it? Poor baby. You’re bound, you’re, ensnared, like a fly caught in the spider’s silk, each struggle only tightening the threads around you.

What are you so afraid of? Why are you trying to resist so hard? Is it fear or is it the fact that you’re sopping wet from being violated?

The truth hurts, little bunny, it really does. But you can’t escape it.

Overwhelmed with Nathan’s assault on your senses, you gaze up at him with pleading eyes, his wicked grin widening with every agonizing second as he’s relishing the betrayal of your body. You’re such a depraved whore, letting him hurt you and getting off on it. He loves that you are, and he wants you to know that. He wants you to know how much he fucking loves hurting you, how much he wants you. All of you.

He can’t take it anymore. He needs to feel you.

Sitting up straight, he kneels between your legs, momentarily abandoning your tit and your pussy to hastily fumble with the button and zipper of your jeans. Can you see how hard his cock is straining against his pants and how hard his chest is heaving? Can you see what you’re doing to him? He’s in agony and he’s finally going to get his relief from you.

If only he hadn’t underestimated you.

A split second. A split second of lust-fueled distraction is all it takes for Nathan to give you an opportunity to get out. And you take it.

It all happens so fast.

The forceful kick you deliver to his abdomen shocks you both. He gasps as the unexpected blow catches him off guard, and he stumbles backward, crashing onto the backpack strapped to his shoulders. The impact jars through his spine, making him groan in pain as he feels the sturdy surface of the thermos he brought pressing into his back. Hearing his pitiful groans stuns you for a fleeting moment, a hint of concern creeping in.

You catch a quick glimpse of Nathan’s dark eyes and that’s when the flight instinct finally kicks in, telling you to get the fuck up and run.

Oh, what have you done, little bunny?

You wriggle on the ground, pain pulsating through your body as you scramble to your feet, wrists still bound behind your back. You run, feet pounding against the uneven forest floor, frantically, unsteady, driven by a primal need to escape.

Your eyes, wide with terror, dart wildly in all directions, desperately searching for an escape route. The whites of your eyes stand out starkly against the backdrop of fear, reflecting the moonlight that filters through the trees overhead. Each breath is visible, quick and shallow, as if the very air you inhale carries the weight of your anxiety. The cold air stings in your lungs, each breath hurting your sore throat.

“You fucking bitch!” Nathan’s furious shouts echo behind you as he pulls himself up with a pained groan, a relentless pursuit that adds to the drumming rhythm of your heart. “Running won’t save you, you stupid girl. You’re mine. And when I—fuck—when I catch you I’m gonna hurt you like I’ve never fucking hurt you before.”

Your blood freezes in your veins at his words, but you don’t respond, focusing solely on the path ahead. Running, panting, gritting your teeth, trying to keep your balance with bound hands. Twisting and turning through the dense foliage, you try to outsmart your pursuer, relying on instincts honed by fear. The shadows dance around you, leaves crunching beneath your feet. You better run, little bunny, run, run away from him.

You think a little groping and choking was bad? Oh, you naive thing. That was nothing. He means it when he says he’ll hurt you like never before. But you know that, right? That’s why you’re running now even though your body is threatening to collapse. You just had to be defiant, hm? You just couldn’t accept that you fucking loved what he did to you.

Now look where your pride got you. Was it worth it?

He’s catching up to you, determined to win, his quick feet carrying him through the mist, his angry shouts getting closer. Can you feel his anger, his hot breath on your neck? Can you feel the venom with which he spits his threats at you? There’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal.

“You think you can escape me, you dumb bitch?” Nathan’s voice is a predatory growl, following your every move.

His cruel laughter chases you like a haunting melody, spurring you on to push your aching muscles harder. The forest seems to tighten around you, an inescapable labyrinth closing in as the predator hunts its prey. And then it happens again. He’s got you.

As you dart left, he anticipates your move, and your bodies collide with a force that knocks the wind out of you. You both tumble to the ground with a thud, intertwined, leaves and dirt swirling around you in a chaotic dance.

“No, no, no,” you scream, thrashing about like a wounded animal caught in a bear trap.

You’re so much stronger than Nathan anticipated, it’s incredible. He knows you have a high pain tolerance, but your resilience is honestly amazing. You truly are the perfect prey.

You squirm and struggle to get away again, but Nathan puts all of his weight on you, pinning you face down under him, your face pressed into the mud, his fingernails digging into your arms so hard you’re making yourself bleed when you desperately try to pull away from his grip. His eyes burn with a mixture of fury and triumph as he pants against your neck, his knees digging into the back of your thighs, one hand moving to press on your neck.

“That’s enough,” he growls through gritted teeth, as you just won’t give up, even though he can feel your exhaustion.

He slaps your exposed cheek as he holds your neck steady, the sharp crack of the impact echoing in the oppressive darkness. A surge of pain courses through you like lightning, leaving a heavy imprint on your senses. Before you can fully register the sting, he ruthlessly yanks on your shirt’s collar, revealing the vulnerable expanse of your shoulder.

Without hesitation, he bites into your flesh, dragging his teeth, breaking your skin. His assault is akin to a wolf sinking its razor-sharp fangs into prey, tearing into your body with a savage hunger. It hurts worse than anything you can remember. Your body’s in shock and your cries come out soundless, weak, futile. He’s pushing you to your limits.

When he’s had his fill, he wipes his bloody mouth, sits up and turns you on your back, immediately straddling your thighs as one of his hands constricts around your bruised neck. The pressure is not yet enough to completely cut off your air supply, but it’s enough to evoke vivid and terrifying memories of how he choked you just moments ago. The implied threat is enough to keep you still.

Nathan slings off his backpack in a swift motion using his free hand and turns on the light. He then takes a few seconds to look into your wet, glazed-over eyes, caressing your tender cheek with an unexpectedly gentle touch, tracing your soft skin with his palm. He can see it in your dilated pupils, he can feel it radiating off your body, he can hear it in your trembling voice as you can’t hold back the pathetic little whimpers escaping your lips.

You’re flying.

Seeing the need in your eyes, his handprint on your cheek, his bite mark on your shoulder, and the blood on your lips makes his cock throb in his pants. He can’t wait anymore, he needs you.

He lets go of your neck with a menacing growl, moving back to sit between your legs. His unwavering gaze remains locked onto yours, stripping you of any semblance of agency. He quickly grabs the waistband of your jeans and drags them over your ass and down to your thighs like you’re a doll — like you’re one of his androids. Sentient, but not in control.

It’s so peaceful, isn’t it? Being his toy. His little slut to play with.

You feel your panties being yanked down, feel the cold breeze on your pussy as Nathan lifts and bends your legs for better access, feel him holding your thighs with a tight grip. He can see how wet you are, how swollen your clit is, how much your body craves his violence. And he’s going to give it to you. All of it. Because he craves it just as badly. His cock is aching for you, rock-hard, pulsating, desperate to feel the warmth of your cunt.

He hastily pulls down his pants with controlled movements, revealing just how much his body wants you. You can see his cock through your wet lashes, causing your walls to clench around nothing and your hips to jerk at the sight; a conditioned response from the hours upon hours of ecstasy he’s given you.

“All for you, my little whore,” Nathan says with a sly grin as he follows your hungry gaze and reaches down to grab the object of your attention. Locking eyes with you and searching them for a second, he strokes the tip of his cock up and down your slick, puffy lips once, twice, and then pushes into your cunt in one forceful thrust.

You whine pathetically as he stretches you open with a loud groan, your toes curling in your shoes, the feeling almost too much to bear. He gives you no time to adjust before he pulls out completely and slams back inside as hard as he can, pushing your body up on the cold ground.

“F-fuck yeah,” he groans as he bottoms out deep inside you, savoring the delicious feeling of your wet pussy sucking him in. “That’s it…Now, be a good whore and take it.”

You can’t hold back your moans as he starts fucking you at a relentless pace, holding on to both of your thighs, putting his weight on them, pressing them against your torso. The angle makes you incredibly tight and allows him to go deep, deep inside of you.

Nathan’s gaze penetrates yours, watching in awe as the need in your eyes grows bigger and bigger with every inch of his cock stretching you, with every snap of his hips against your thighs, with every demeaning word he spits at you as he takes what he wants, reducing you to a toy he can use and abuse.

You take it, take everything he gives you, take it so well. You take it until you can’t anymore.

“Please stop,” you whimper as his deliberate, continuous hits to your cervix cause you immense pain.

Nathan laughs breathlessly. You’re so cute when you pretend that’s not exactly what you need. What hurts more, huh? The pain of him using you or the fact that you’re close to coming from it?

“Can’t take it, slut?” he pants as he can feel his cock swell deep inside of you, your pussy gripping him like a vise. You feel so fucking good. “What happened? I thought you wanted this.”

“Hurts…” you whine as fresh tears run down your temples. You writhe under him, trying to move your legs, but it’s no use. You’re trapped.

“I know it hurts, baby,” he coos in response, his voice deceptively soothing. “But I need you to be good for me. You wanna be good for me, don’t you? Yeah, you do. You wanna be my good girl. That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

His words send heat straight to your core, causing your walls to flutter around his cock. God, you’re a perfect little fuckdoll.

You yelp in surprise as Nathan suddenly leans in, putting your calves on his shoulder, crushing his lips against yours in a feverish kiss. You instinctively open your mouth for his tongue to slide inside, wanting to taste him, to feel him, to have him claim you completely.

The coil in your lower belly is wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You’re so close. You moan into his mouth as his tongue swirls around yours, and he groans in response, his hips picking up the pace, slamming into you feverishly. Your pitiful cries evaporate in his mouth as his cock hits your cervix over and over again, determined to make you come from pain.

He can feel you burning up against his body, can taste the desperation on your trembling lips, can feel your pussy gripping him so hard it hurts. You’re fucking loving this. He chuckles against your lips as you start jerking your hips, trying your hardest to get more friction on your clit.

Poor little bunny.

He’s not going to touch you. You’re going to come like this or not at all.

Not giving you even one second to catch your breath, he draws back from your lips and immediately grabs the base of your neck with a firm grip to pull himself deeper inside you with every harsh thrust. Lightheaded, mind reeling, your overstimulated body is screaming for release.

“Nathan…” you sob, your voice a mere whisper as tears stream down your temples.

“That’s right, slut. Keep fucking crying,” he groans, his hips stuttering for a moment when he feels your pussy twitch around his cock. You’re so close. Your whole body is trembling and your moans are getting louder and louder as he’s picking up the pace, thrusting into you relentlessly, telling you what a depraved little whore you are for coming on his cock.

It only takes a handful more of Nathan’s measured thrusts before the coil inside you finally snaps and you crash into your orgasm at full speed. Your walls clamp down around his cock so hard he can barely keep moving, and the overwhelming ecstasy that spreads through your body and mind makes you forget who or where you are. You feel weightless, free, whole as he fucks you through your high, drowning you in his touch that masterfully blends pain and pleasure.

He almost comes instantly when he sees and feels you fall apart so completely, your blissed out expression the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

As you start to come down and all sensations begin to blur into an elusive haze, you feel the edges of your vision start to blur and Nathan’s groans seem distant and muffled. On the precipice of your consciousness, in your delirium, you feel the gentle touch of Nathan’s lips on your skin, you see him smiling at you, you hear him whisper in your ear that he lo–

A sharp slap to your cheek wakes you up and has you turning your head to cough and gasp for air. After a few seconds of trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving, your head spinning, you notice that Nathan’s still moving, his hips slamming against the back of your thighs with a relentless ferocity that borders on primal.

“You don’t get to pass out on me, baby,” you hear him chuckle. “I want you to feel it when I fill you up.”

He can feel it building and building, winding tighter and tighter, his cock swelling and twitching inside your cunt. He pants and moans your name, telling you what a perfect little whore you are, how fucking good you feel, how much he enjoys hurting you.

“Holy shit, that’s it. Fuck. Fuck.”

He explodes deep inside you, cum painting your walls, still thrusting as he twitches and pulses, making sure your pussy swallows every last drop. He sits up, panting heavily, sweat running down his temples as he looks down at where your bodies are connected. He slowly pulls out of you with a strangled groan, watches with satisfaction how his cum leaks out of your swollen pussy, and at last lets his spent body collapse on the ground next to you.

“Fucking unreal,” he sighs deeply, covering his face with his hands for a moment before wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. He takes a few seconds to catch his breath and to wait for enough blood to flow back to his brain, then turns his head to look at you.

You’re lying on your side, turned away from him, your knees pulled up to your chest in the fetal position. Nathan’s eyes are immediately drawn to the burns on your wrists, the scratches covering your arms and ass, and the blood he can see on your shirt’s collar.

Seeing you in this state has his cock twitching on his belly.

He did this to you. He beat you, overpowered you, took you, fucking destroyed you. You were so sure of yourself before, and now look at yourself. Pathetic.

What hurts more, little bunny? Your body or your mind?

Your pitiful sobs cut through the still of the night, interrupting Nathan’s thoughts.

“Shit.” He snaps out of it and immediately sits up, haphazardly stuffing his cock back inside his pants before opening his backpack to get out the shears he packed. He grabs them, then kneels behind you.

“I’m gonna cut your ties, okay? Don’t move.”

You give no indication that you can hear him, but you don’t move your hands as he cuts the ties around your sore wrists. You lie still, limp, even now that your hands are free again.

Concerned with your body temperature, Nathan quickly reaches for his backpack again to get out a woolen blanket. He drapes it over you, shielding your exposed body from the cold wind blowing around you.

He tries to turn you around, so he can look at you and talk to you, but you start thrashing about and crying violently when he puts pressure on your arm.

“Hey, hey, shhh, it’s over,” he says calmly but firmly, pulling you up into his lap with your back against his chest despite your protests. His strong arms hold you close, the blanket tightly wrapped around you. “Shhh, it’s over, you’re safe.”

He can feel you stop resisting and your muscles relaxing in his arms after a minute or so, your head falling back against his shoulder, your breathing getting calmer.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, rocking you gently.

After a short while of sitting in silence, he decides it’s best you two get going, so he can clean you up and take care of your wounds. But first, he wants you to drink from the tea he brought, to warm you up and rehydrate you.

With a careful maneuver, he reaches into his backpack while keeping a supportive hold on you, retrieving the thermos that left a lasting impression on his back. He takes a sip to make sure it’s not too hot before encouraging you to do the same. He smiles to himself when you don’t bother asking what’s in it this time, too exhausted to care, apparently.

You feel the soothing warmth trickling down your sore throat, warming you from the inside. A gentle cough escapes your lips, a testament to the wear and tear your body has endured. When Nathan’s satisfied with your intake, he stows the thermos and helps you stand up. He pulls up your panties and pants without any protest from you, then picks up his backpack.

“Here,” he murmurs, wrapping the blanket tightly around you, so it stays put without you having to hold it. He then hands you a blue cool pack for your swollen cheek and lip and guides your hand to the affected area. You wince and groan when the pack makes contact with your tender skin.

“Keep pressure on it, okay?”

You nod and press a bit harder, the throbbing pain prompting a new set of tears to well up in your eyes, silently expressing both pain and relief.

“Can you walk?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Mhm.”

“It’s not far,” he murmurs, prompting you to walk in front of him. The flashlight he brought illuminates the path, but exhaustion causes you to stumble a few times. When Nathan has to catch you for the fifth time, he realizes this isn’t going to work and finally opts to rearrange the blanket, so he can guide you with a supportive hand under your armpit.

You’re not really here, so you don’t notice that he’s leading you down a different path than the one you came from.

The cold night air is filled with unspoken truths as you walk in silence, the sound of gravel and leaves crushed beneath your feet echoing the muted conversation you’re not ready to have.

Your body is beginning to hurt more and more with every step you take, as you can feel the adrenaline slowly leaving your body. The fog in your mind begins to clear at the same time, revealing a storm of conflicting emotions you’re utterly unprepared for.

Nathan’s just fulfilled a fantasy you’ve had forever but could never find the right partner for, either due to lack of sexual compatibility or lack of trust. And despite having you climbing the walls with frustration many times over the past few months, you trust Nathan and know he would never seriously harm you.

Not physically at least.

So, why are you pouting right now? He gave you what you wanted, didn’t he? This was your idea and you wanted it so badly.

Is it because you didn’t think it would feel so real? That it wouldn’t hurt so much? Hmm, that’s not it, is it? No, no. What you’re feeling is shame. You’re ashamed. Ashamed at how much you loved it. How much you loved the thrill of the hunt and the pain of being beaten and used.

What kind of fucked up person would enjoy something like this? What is wrong with you?

– – –

“I had it built over the past week,” Nathan murmurs as he’s opening a new pack of sterile wipes. “Pretty great, huh? I designed every room myself, feng shui included.” You dig your fingernails into your palm and suck in a sharp breath when the alcohol makes contact with the bite mark on your shoulder.

You’ve been in Nathan’s new cabin for half an hour now, and he’s been trying his best to make you feel comfortable—turning up the heat, helping you take off your dirty shirt and jeans, preparing a cup of tea for you while you were on the toilet, giving you pain meds a non-billionaire could only dream of getting their hands on, and carefully disinfecting your wounds in the bathroom. He’s even refrained from misquoting Oppenheimer or exclusively talking about himself.

He is trying.

You, however, have remained unresponsive, eyes vacant, lost in the echoes of your scene. Vivid memories pulse through your veins, and when Nathan notices the subtle tremors wracking your body, a flicker of concern shadows his eyes.

“Looks good,” he goes on as he’s done cleaning the mark his canines left on you. “It’s not as deep as I thought. Still looks like it hurts though.”

He can’t help but smile at the sight, the evidence of what he did to you. Beautiful. He puts the wipes down onto the wooden bench you’re sitting on and studies your profile. Silent tears are slowly rolling down your swollen cheeks, your bruised neck, over your breasts, pooling in your bra. Your lip is quivering.

You hear him say your name. “Can you please look at me?”

When you don’t react, he says your name a little louder, his patience waning as he grapples with his own sense of helplessness.

He’s not used to feeling this way—unable to fully understand or solve a problem that’s presenting itself. He’s a genius for God’s sake. Concern turns to frustration, his eyes mirroring the helplessness he’s experiencing—an unusual and uncomfortable sensation for someone accustomed to being in control.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. But your silence persists, and his frustration peaks. With a sudden resolve, he reaches for your chin, intending to force you to look at him. As soon as his fingers make contact with your skin, you slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” you hiss at him with such venom in your voice that he’s momentarily stunned. Your eyes meet his for the first time since you left the woods, bloodshot and watery, pupils dilated.

The sudden break in the stagnant atmosphere startles both of you and you immediately regret what you did when you see the look on Nathan’s face. Your palms are clammy, the bathroom suddenly feels far too hot, and every scratch on your body burns and pulses in time with your racing heartbeat.

“I–I’m so sorry,” you stutter, your eyes wide, your trembling hand reaching for his arm.

“It’s okay,” he says calmly, studying your face with a furrowed brow. “Are you in pain? Is that it?”

“No—well, yeah. Of course I am, what the hell do you think?” A small smile tugs at Nathan’s lips, amused with your answer. “But, uh, that’s not it.” You avert your gaze and absentmindedly rub your right thumb over your left thumb in your lap.

“Was it too much? Did I do some–”

“No.” You vehemently shake your head and look into his eyes. “It was perfect, Nathan. I liked it, really.”

He can see in your eyes that you’re telling the truth, but that just confuses him more.

“It’s just,” you go on, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. “What’s wrong with me?”

A lightbulb flickers to life above Nathan’s head, and suddenly, it’s crystal clear what your pleading eyes are trying to say.

“Why do you think anything’s wrong with you? You just said you liked what we did.”

“But why?” you blurt out. “Other people don’t ask their boss to chase them through the woods. They’re not perpetually bruised. And they wouldn’t get off on half the shit you do to me.” Your voice is agitated now, your hands wildly gesticulating between the two of you.

Nathan can see how distressed you are, but he genuinely doesn’t understand why. This isn’t like you. He sighs and puts his hand on your naked thigh. You let him.

“Pain, humiliation, submitting to me,” he says softly, his eyes locked onto yours. “That’s your thing, okay? Now, why is that your thing? Because you did a detailed analysis of all kinks and you cross-referenced that analysis with a points-based system? No. You’re just into pain and humiliation. You like submitting to me. It’s how you were programmed. Nature and nurture, baby.”

You hear the words he says, but your tired brain and your aching body make it so you’re not really processing them. His logic isn’t what you need right now.

“But…don’t you think that’s weird?” you murmur, your eyes filling with tears again.

Nathan sighs deeply, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “This is your insecurity talking, this is not your intellect,” he says sternly. “You’re better than that.”

He gets up with a suppressed groan, clutching his abdomen, and holds out his hand for you to join him.

As soon as you’re standing, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Your lips still sting, but you don’t mind. Nathan’s lips, his warm body against yours, and his hands roaming your naked back feel too good to care. You’re losing yourself in his touch again.

He directs you backwards toward the sink without breaking the kiss, pressing his growing erection against your core when your lower back hits the sink. His tongue swirls around yours, his low hums vibrating against your lips as his hands find your hips.

Breaking the kiss, out of breath, he turns you around, so you’re in front of the mirror.

“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, his lidded eyes watching you. He slowly traces your skin with his fingertips, appreciating the marks on your body. A shiver runs down your spine and you moan softly at his tantalizing touch.

“I did this. I did this to you.” Nathan kisses your neck with his warm, soft lips, his beard tickling you. You close your eyes and hum at the feeling, resting your hands on the sink.

“And you took it so well, baby,” he murmurs against your skin between kisses, his hard cock pressing against your ass. “You earned every single bruise. You’re such a good little whore.”

His right hand moves down your belly, down between your thighs, cupping your mound over your panties. Gently but firmly. He keeps kissing up and down your neck, his warm breath and soft groans making you wet. You let your head fall back against him, wrapping your hands around his neck, and rocking your hips against his hand.

“Nathan…don–” you murmur, but he cuts you off.

“Shh,” he purrs against your neck, sliding his hand inside your panties and finding your clit with his fingers.

“Look at yourself.”

You reluctantly open your eyes. His gaze meets yours in the reflection, your brows drawn together, your lips slightly parted. You still wince at the sight of your swollen face, the mark on your shoulder and the bruises and scratches you can see. But all of your thoughts are quickly washed away when Nathan’s fingers start rubbing your clit, his dark eyes never leaving you.

“That’s it, baby. Look at what I did to you. Look at how much I hurt you.”

Speeding up the movement of his fingers, he can feel your legs starting to tremble as your orgasm approaches rapidly. He wraps his left hand around your front, his hand splayed over your tense belly, holding you against his chest.

Sweet release. You can already taste it.

Your moans are becoming louder and louder, and right when you’re about to tip over the edge, Nathan roughly grabs your throat and simultaneously pushes three fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out of you hard and fast. Your eyes widen in shock and your hands instinctively grab at his, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but he’s undeterred.

He knows you’re sore, so he’s not going to fuck you with his cock. But you need this.

“There is nothing wrong with you or with what you want,” he growls into your ear, his eyes boring into you as he feels you coming around his fingers with a desperate moan.

You ride out your high on his hand until your knees buckle and your limp body collapses against his, your walls rhythmically pulsing around him. Holding you upright, Nathan presses a soft kiss to the mark on your shoulder and nuzzles the crook of your neck with his nose.

“You’re such a fucking good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you.

“Now, how about a bath?”

– – –

Lying in the softest bed you’ve ever laid in, feeling the comforting embrace of the satin sheets around your body, and thanks to the pain meds working their magic, you find yourself in heaven. Floating on a fluffy cloud. Mind empty. Content.

“Feeling any better?” you hear Nathan’s voice behind you before the bed dips under his weight as he joins you.

“Mhm. Great meds,” you murmur into your pillow.

“Yeah, right? I feel like I’m floating.”

“Huh?” You turn around to look at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees and the wall-to-ceiling window opposite the bed. “What the fuck, Nathan? You can’t mix those with alcohol.”

“No worries. My liver’s been training for this.”

You scoff. He’s unbelievable. “Why did you take them anyway? It’s not like you got hurt.”

“The big, purple bruise on my abdomen begs to differ,” he chuckles. “You got me pretty good.”

You can’t hold back a little laugh. “You’re a baby.”

“And you get a little too bold when you’re high. I’d watch it if I were you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, your eyelids beginning to droop.

Nathan smirks and shakes his head at you. “Hey,” he lightly taps your shoulder, “wanna see something cool? Check this out.”

He flips a switch on the wall next to the bed, and suddenly, the roof smoothly retracts, unveiling the vast expanse of the starlit sky.

It’s breathtaking.

“Pretty amazing, huh?”

“It is,” you whisper as your thoughts float away like dandelion seeds carried by a gentle breeze, dancing into the realm of dreams. “Thank you.”

The quiet in the bedroom stretches for a few minutes as the soothing embrace of sleep begins to claim you. Suddenly, Nathan breaks the silence with a soft murmur.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Hm?”

He sighs. “About your masochism. You never told me.”

“Hmm. I don’t always. Only sometimes.” You turn onto your side, your face buried in the pillow. A content sigh escapes your lips. “Can’t help it.”

“Don’t keep stuff like that from me. Tell me next time.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m serious, it’s–” He stops when he hears your rhythmic breathing. He leans over you and looks at your face. You’re sleeping. You look peaceful.

Nathan rolls onto his back and stares at the stars overhead for a few minutes, contemplating the universe and his role in it until your breathing lulls him to sleep.

– – –

Thank you for reading 🖤 ➝ check out my masterlist

#nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman smut #consensual noncon #oscar isaac characters #nathan bateman #nathan bateman fic #ex machina fanfiction #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman fanfiction #oscar isaac fic #smut #oscar isaac #aftercare

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melodygatesauthor · 6 months

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How Romantic

Nathan Bateman X f!Reader

Blurb 10 for Melody's 2023 Ficversary Celebration

NSFW below the cut

Nathan wasn’t the roses and wine type of romantic.

Nathan was the type of romantic to build an android based on your porn search history so he could give you the night of your life, holding you up between himself and the bot and lowering you down on both their cocks simultaneously. He even made the bot a little bigger than himself because the videos you watched always had a girl with her asshole stretched out around a fatter dick than his.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, honey?” Nathan asked, alternating his thrusts in time with the android.

“Mm,” you choked out, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

He chuckled, “You’re acting like such a fuckin’ crybaby for someone who practically begged for this, you know that?” He huffed in your ear, picking up speed. “I mean, you knew I’d see what you were looking up, I bet this is what you were hoping for isn’t it?”

You nodded, even though you hadn’t really thought Nathan would be selfless enough to use time and resources on your sexual fantasies. You knew part of him must’ve been interested in seeing you like this.

“You know what else?” His movements slowed, and you felt the android follow suit, “I saw how much you replayed that one part where the girl got fucking s-stuffed, fuck…”

Not only did you feel the heat of Nathan’s spend painting the insides of your greedy cunt, you felt the android halt, thick cock pulsating and filling your asshole deep with spend. That was fucking cum…

Nathan smirked against your ear, “feel familiar? That’s all me honey, had my shit stored up in a freezer so I could really give you something special.”

You could always count on Nathan to be full of surprises…

Melody's 2023 Ficversary Masterlist

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman FanFiction #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman fan fiction #nathan bateman ex Machina #nathan bateman fanfic #nathan bateman fic #ex Machina FanFiction #ex Machina fic #ex Machina smut #ex Machina fan fiction #nathan bateman smut

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foxilayde · 7 months

Text

Conversion Rates [Nathan Bateman x Reader]

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Nathan gets some unexpected news.

Warnings: Cigarettes, talk about death, talk about blood, brief mention of oral sex.

A/N: Feel free to ignore 💚

There’s buzzing coming from Nathan’s side of the bed. Long and persistent enough that it appears in your dreams, morphs into reality, and annoys you to the point of shoving your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Get it.” You grunt, peeking a bleary eye open to the clock at your own night table. 3:55am. Only someone with a death wish would be calling Nathan at this hour.

“I’m gonna kill whoever that is.” Nathan is haplessly searching for his glasses, he groans when he finds them and flips the blankets off of himself to then locate the source of the buzzing. The person must’ve called again because the buzzing has been going on for at least a minute.

“Whomever.” You yawn.

“What’d you say” Nathan grunts distractedly while pawing the sheets, searching for his phone.

“Nothing.”

“Were you correcting my grammar? At four in the goddamn morning?”

“Hey don’t get cranky on me. I’m not the one calling.” You sleepily smile at him as he shakes his head, “go back to sleep,” he mutters to you when he answers the call.

“What?” Nathan answers simply, the greeting replete with annoyance. He’s scratching his head and then suddenly his hand stops like it forgot what it was supposed to be doing. His back goes rigid and he shakes his head quickly before swallowing and swinging his legs out to rest on the floor, elbows on knees, forehead in palm.

“Yeah I’m here… mmhmm…yeah.. Sure…. Yeah… okay…” He sighs a lot and rubs his head, h is eyes, his beard. This doesn’t sound like a work emergency. You scoot close to him and soothe his back in long slow strokes. He puts a hand on your knee.

“Yeah. Friday…. Uh huh. Okay thanks— no, not— … I don’t know what to say, Aimes. It’s fucking four am over here…. That’s….. alright fine, whatever, see you Friday… yeah you can tell her. Fine, don’t tell her, tell her, either way I’m— I’ll be there…. Yeah. Okay it’s okay, I’m fucking—……. Yeah. Got it…. Bye.”

Nathan’s jaw clenches and one breath after hanging up he hurls his phone across the room and against the concrete wall in an over handed frisbee-type toss. It cracks against the wall and thuds on the rug.

“Oh, that one got some air. Eight point seven. I’m deducting a point for lack of expletive. Couldn’t even give me a ‘bastard’? Disappointing, Bateman. You’ll never make it to regionals with that attitude.”

Nathan pulls both hands down his face and lays back down. Not in a joking mood. It’s quite possible he didn’t hear you at all.

“Was it work?” You ask quietly, changing your tone to something softer, something more befitting the early hour and the mystified expression on his face.

“No.” He breaths. Your eyes fall to the smithereened phone.

“Where are you going on Friday?”

“Hmmm?”

“You said something about being there Friday? Where’s there?”

“New York.”

“But not HQ?”

“No.”

Nathan puts his arms behind his head and stares impassively at his reflection in the mirrored ceiling. He is nowhere near a playful mood, so it’s a mystery to you why he’s making you play 20 questions, but as long as he’s answering, you’ll keep asking. Your first instinct is to inquire how many questions of the twenty remain, but his face reminds you of the early hour and you think better of it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offer sincerely.

Nathan blinks several times but does not answer.

“You want to go back to sleep?”

Nathan sighs and shakes his head slightly.

“You want me to make you a smoothie? Or some matcha just the way you like it? I promise I’ll use the whisk and not a fork this time.”

No response.

“Although I’d like to do the Pepsi test on you with that and see if you really can taste the difference.”

“Honey.”

“You gotta admit, it’s a little pretentious.”

“My dad’s dead.”

“What?”

“Funeral’s on Friday. New York. That was Amy.” His face is impassive as ever. You however flip the fuck out.

“OH my GOD. Nathan!” You opt out of a crushing hug and gently place your hand over his heart instead. “I’m so sorry.” Your brow furrows. “What happened?”

“Heart attack.”

“Nathan, I’m so sorry.” You repeat, at a loss for words.

“Hey, if he didn’t want to die from a heart attack, he should have taken better care of himself.” Nathan pulls the rumpled sheet over himself and turns to face you. “C’mere. Let’s go back to sleep.” He beckons you to your little spoon spot with one grabby hand.

You don’t ask him if he’s sure, let alone ask him if he’d rather talk about it. Something like this is going to take your boyfriend months to process. You scoot back against him and kiss his hand.

“Don’t for a second think this gets you out of our 6am trail run, by the way.” He grumbles and kisses your shoulder.

You pat his arm, the one that crosses your chest and holds you flush against him. “You don’t think we could skip the hell trail, I mean the trail run, just this once? I mean, we should probably pack. We’ve still gotta helicopter out of here and plus the time difference in New York, Friday is technically only… fifty one hours from now. Your family probably needs help? With things— arrangements?”

“You don’t have to go with me.”

“Oh shut up, of course I’m going, you nut.”

“This is so fucking typical of him.”

“What is? Perishing?”

“Fucking up everything.”

“Yes. Very rude of him to die on this the morning of our trail run. What an asshole.”

“You think I’m kidding. I’m not kidding. He made it his life’s goal to be as much of a burden as he possibly could. Died as he fucking lived.”

“Hey now, save some of that heartfelt sentimentality for the eulogy.”

*******

“I’m not speaking. Absolutely the fuck not.”

“Nathan, come on. You have to say some words. They don’t have to be true, you just go up and say “He will be missed” and you can leave out the “just not by me” part. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Can’t believe Amy would just assume that I’m going to do it and stick it in the fucking program.”

“Totally, who does she think you are? The only son of the man who died, or something? Pretty presumptuous of her.” You roll your eyes.

Nathan takes an angry drag from what is probably his twentieth cigarette of the day, and it’s only noon. You didn’t even know he smoked until you landed in New York and his first stop was at the Bronx Boulevard Bodega and Deli for a pack of Viceroy 100s.

“You keep staring at me like that and your face is gonna get stuck that way.” Was the only ‘conversation’ the two of you had about the revisited habit when he lit up in the back of the towncar on your way from his mom’s place to the church on Tinton Ave.

Cars honk and whiz by. It’s dry and exceptionally cold for April, you tug your black coat closer around your middle. Nathan doesn’t flinch to the temperature in his thin black wool blazer, still in agitated ponderance, still pissed off at his dead father. He’s been standing outdoors most of the day already. Excusing himself to his mother’s porch to chain smoke all by himself in lieu of making small talk at the pre-funeral breakfast with his mother, sister, and yourself.

You check your watch before tucking your arm back around yourself in a contained shiver.

“Service starts in ten minutes. You think we should head in?”

“Go ahead. I’ll meet you in there.”

“Seriously Nate, lets go.”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do okay, you’re not my mother.”

“Oh shit, you’re right I’m not. She is inside though. I can go get her if you want. She’s passing out programs right now for her dead husband’s funeral services, but I’m sure she’d be willing to stop the world and burp you, or whatever the hell you need that’ll make you stop acting like a child.”

“Fuck off, alright?” His Bronx accent gets thicker with each passing cancer stick.

“You know, it pains me to say it, but for as much as you hate your father…”

“Don’t.”

“I don’t have to, you already know.”

Nathan flips the lid of his cigarettes, curses, crumples the Viceroy box, and shoves it back in his pocket.

“Out of excuses are we?” You’re trying to be supportive, you really really are, but he’s being fucking ridiculous. You loop your arm around his, hoping he’ll be too upset and distracted to stop you from leading him into the church.

He lets you take him two steps forward before halting. “I haven’t been in there since I was fifteen.”

“Looks intimidating.” You nod at the tall dark grey stone walls and narrow strips of stained glass.

“‘It’s fucking creepy is what it is.”

“Are you… scared? Of seeing him?”

“Who? The lifesize bloody effigy of Christ the redeemer suspended from the middle of the ceiling? Yeah, a little. Did I ever tell you that my first nightmare as a child was thinking I was caught in a tropical rainstorm in my bedroom, but then, I look up, and its a fifty foot tall man in a loincloth and barbed wire crown floating above me, bleeding on me in these fat, red drops—“

“Holy shit— no, what the fuck? I’m talking about seeing your dad. About the open casket… fuck me. We’ll unpack that levitating son-of-god nightmare later.”

“I haven’t spoken to my dad in… I don’t know. I don’t even remember the last time we talked on the phone. I’m trying….to remember the last time I saw his face and… I….can’t.”

Nathan swallows hard and looks up at the overcast sky. He’s, choked up, his chin quivers angrily.

“Some holiday probably. If there even was a holiday in the last ten years that he spent someplace other than that hole on 165th.” He shakes his head and bites his lip in resolve. “I can’t do it, honey. I can’t go in there for him. I can’t do this this when he would have never—“

“Then don’t do it for him.” You squeeze the crook of his elbow. “Do it for your mom, who misses her husband. Do it for Amy, who is equally as fucking pissed at her dad but had to organize this whole funeral anyway, without any help.” You poke his chest.

Nathan grimaces.

“And most importantly, do it for me.” You peck him on his cringing lips, “because I am fucking freeeezing.” He kisses you again and you pull back and grin at the novel tang. “So that’s what Mac DeMarco’s ashtray tastes like, I’ve always wondered.”

He smiles for the first time in days. It’s a little one, but it’s there. “I’ll do it. I’ll go in, I’ll speak. For you. But, you owe me.”

“You still accept blowjobs as payment, I assume?”

“Yeah but the conversion rate in New York is much higher than in Norway.”

“Wow, how randomly convenient for you. The rich just keep getting richer, don’t they?”

Nathan gives your butt a tap to usher you inside. “That’s economics for you.”

END

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Ex Machina FanFiction #Oscar Isaac

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

Note

Okay okay okay that prompt list had my brain GOING. Would you do sugar daddy, praise, and overstimulation with Nathan Bateman? I’d also love if there was some aftercare thrown in but I don’t wanna get greedy 😅 write whatever you’re most comfortable with!

15. aftercare . 34. sugar daddy . 38. overstimulation nathan bateman masterlist || main masterlist

“Fuck yes,” Nathan breathes, awe tingeing his foul words as he watches you cum all over his fingers. You’re twisting, writhing against the mattress as he continues his assault on your clit.

It’s too much, it’s overwhelming, it hurts. You’re edging up the mattress as you kick your feet pathetically, attempting to escape the thumb baring down on your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Please!” You beg, sobbing out Nathan’s name. He finally relents, releasing your body as you tremble and quake against the bed. Tears dry in your hairline, muscles aching after cramping and tensing against the pleasure.

“I’ve got you,” he mumbles, gently sweeping his knuckles across your cheeks to swipe away any residual tear-tracks. You look up at him through your lashes, watching him run his hands over your naked skin. It’s tender, soothing, the sexual intent of his touches discarded and forgotten about alongside the keys to your brand new Porsche on the beside table.

“You need some water?” He asks you, an ever so slight lilt to his voice that indicates he’s trying to care for you. You shake your head, needing nothing but him- nothing but this. Nathan nods.

A silence falls between you at first, his hands continuing to smooth over the peaks and troughs of your body on an attempt to ease the muscles beneath.

“You like the car?”

“Mhm-hm,” you nod slowly, watching him study the contours of your torso.

“Don’t think I can fuck you in there though,” his blunt attitude shines through, even now.

“… There’s always the hood.”

Nathan smiles.

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman imagine #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman x y/n #nathan bateman fanfic #nathan bateman fic #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman x female reader #ex machina #ex machina fanfic #ex machina fic #ex machina smut #ex machina fanfiction #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #જ⁀➴ mail: received

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tsunami-watch · 1 month

Text

Outrunning Karma

Main Story: 1

Summary: V meets Nathan, the beginning of our adventure.

Ships: (Nathan Bateman x F!V!Reader)

Word count: 1767

“This could be big for you, don’t fuck it up.” Rogue’s warning rang in V’s mind as she entered the conference room.

The room was monochromatic with minimalist decor, nothing really clueing her in to who this “Nathan Bateman” guy was. No personal effects or awards, just some plant that looked fake in the corner and a geometric table with two chairs. She scans the room, finding nothing of note, just a security panel and a thermostat. She shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs, tapping the table under her fingers. She had gotten from Rouge was that this guy was “Unlike any other corpo.” and that could mean anything. She sighs and leans back in her chair as she looks up at the paneled ceiling, after a brief moment of pretending to play tic-tac-toe with its gridded pattern she’s startled by a low voice.

“Anything interesting up there?” She jumps slightly and turns quickly in her seat about to curse out whoever scared her when she’s face to face with him. She’s surprised by the man in front of her, not a scrap of visible chrome on him. She starts up her scanner for a habitual scan, but before she can even get a glance at the info, he vanishes from her field of view in the blink of an eye, a sudden gust of wind whipping across her face from the movement. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Nathan’s voice comes from around the corner.

V instinctively flexes, Mantis blades springing into action, she takes a defensive stance, anticipating the worst.

“Woah, chill honey. Not gonna hurt you.” Before she could even react, her blades retracted, plates shuffling and closing back to their inactive state.

“What the- How did…?” She felt significantly less chill.

“So, can we talk or are we gonna keep this back and forth going for a while longer?” Nathan asks.

“I’m happy to talk, I don’t know why you vanished in the first place.” She stands up straight again and leans on the table, Nathan comes back around the corner.

“Trust me, you don’t want to randomly scan me like that, just might end up another fried corpse in a trash heap if you’re not careful.” Nathan stands in front of her and relaxes slightly. “Now go ahead.” She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask anything further as she proceeds to scan him. As she's skimming over his NCPD file she's surprised to see his middle name vanish from the file in real time, glancing back at him it appeared he had been following along her reading.

"Much better." He mutters

"Hamlet? Really?" She chuckles.

"We don't talk about it." He crosses his arms with a sigh.

“Noted.” She looks around the room again, trying to figure out what to say next. “So, what's the deal? You’re definitely not like the other CEOs of megacorps, pretty sure most of them don’t even look the mercs who do their dirty work in the eye, much less invite them into their freakishly minimalist space.” Nathan laughs.

“I guess you could say I’m not like the others.” He walks past her and sits down in one of the chairs, gesturing for her to do the same. She sits down, her eyes still trained on him. Rogue wasn’t wrong, he was different from any other corpo she’d ever met, Ditching the expensive restricting suits for a soft waffle-knit white sweater and some dark slacks, his head shaved, and a full well groomed beard. After a longer examination she could tell he didn’t have any optic enhancements either, somehow wiring the typical display functions of cyberoptics to the silver wireframe glasses perched upon his nose, leaving his eyes a natural deep brown, which was almost unnerving, she was so used to the bright artificial colors and slight glow that most had, seeing pure natural eyes, she understood what all those old poets meant by the eyes being the windows to the soul. Nathan gives her a slight smirk, leaning forward in his seat with interest. “Not every day I meet someone who knows nothing about me.”

“Sorry, don't mean to bruise your ego.” She says leaning back in her chair, keeping a comfortable distance between them.

“No, No…I quite like it. You have no expectations, you aren’t expecting some genius bullshit that blows your mind. It’s nice, no performance, no need to please or meet some expectation of grandeur.” Nathan also takes the time to examine her more closely. Sure, she was here to do a job for him, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the view. It's not often someone who looks like that waltzes in, toned muscle and soft skin fading into the harsh telltale lines of combat cyberware, fire in her cybernetic eyes. He blinks lazily, taking a second to refocus. “Alright, the gig should be easy enough. I just need you to get something for me, and if necessary, zero the choom who has it.” She’s slightly taken aback in his casual choice of words but nods.

“Okay, what exactly am I looking for?” She asks, her eyebrow raised slightly.

“Long story short, a Braindance. I got drunk at a party and a doll got a BD of a conversation I had, where I gave up some information I shouldn’t have. I can’t have that getting around, top secret shit.” She watches Nathan talk, as much as she was listening to the details of the gig she was amused by the way he talked with his hands, the expressions he makes, she couldn’t help but feel at ease with him, not something she had felt so easily with anyone in a while. Nathan had picked up on that feeling, her body language going from tense and on edge to seemingly relaxed. Her shoulders lowered, her head tilted to the side a bit, ankles crossed in front of her. She had let her guard down just a little bit, the corners of his lips turning up slightly in a smile. “It should be simple, get the BD, by whatever means necessary.”

“Seems easy enough, who am I looking for?”

It was jarring to have information transferred without seeing the familiar blue flash from the optics of the transmitter. “Amethyst Bronte.” Her NCPD database file didn’t have anything notable to speak of besides a tie to The Mox, which was not unusual for a doll.

“Sure it’s her? She seems remarkably…unremarkable in her records for an NC citizen.” V did another once over of the squeaky clean file. “Only offense was trespassing…to feed stray cats on private property. This upstanding citizen if NC’s ever known one, snagged a BD of you giving up classified info? Choom-”

Nathan quirked a brow at her, an amused smile tugging at his lips. Another tab appeared in V’s view, the ice blue backdrop and text looking oddly familiar, as she skimmed through the extensive file including images, video, and audio attached that did not seem like they were recorded with the subjects’ knowledge. This file painted a very different picture of Amethyst, a data broker who sold information to corps and gangs alike for the highest offer, the file even included insights into her personal life, broken family, little to no friends to speak of, just trying to keep a roof over her head and food on the table. “Thought you’d know better by now than to judge a BD by its title, choom.”

“Where- The fuck? How did you even get this much information? I know the place this was taken, there’s no cameras-” He silently stared, waiting patiently as realization dawned upon V. “No, no, they’re real? Those fucking, conspiracy theories about Tsunami?”

“Tsunami Watch.” He nodded, leaning back in his chair, expression only describable as with the pride and arrogance of a man who thought himself to be God. Maybe he wasn’t all that different from other corpos after all. “Anyways, you don’t have to worry about all that, just enjoy the extra deets.” Nathan waves dismissively, she doesn't know how to feel about the sharp contrasts of emotion he’s made her feel in the short timespan she’s known him. She shakes it off with a hesitant nod, she needs to focus on the job, get through this and get home. That's what matters.

“Sounds good, I’ll keep in touch.” V says calmly as she stands up and gets ready to go.

“Oh and V, be careful. You never know who's watching.”

It took over a day to track down this Amethyst character even with the additional deets provided, despite having her life in a neat file she posed more of a challenge than V initially expected. When V finally found her, it was in amongst the pounding beats and sweaty bodies of the most popular club in Night City, Riot. As she entered the establishment she was greeted by the familiar sound and sight of Johnny’s engram flickering into existence, leaning against one of the lobby’s brutalist concrete walls.

“You should try taking me somewhere this nice sometime V.” He snarked with his usual tone of arrogance-riddled sarcasm. V rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him, pushing past as he flickered out of view. She decided to observe Amethyst from afar, having spotted her bright purple streaked hair through the crowd, chatting with someone as she moved to the beat. Calculating her next move, V carefully moved to the bar flagging down the bartender, watching out of the corner of her eye as Amethyst approached the opposite end of the bar. Perfect timing.

“A shot of house tequila, neat, and whatever she’s drinking.” She said tilting her head in the direction of the other woman. The bartender silently nods in acknowledgement, pouring and setting the drink in front of her with the flourish of practiced efficiency before turning to get Amethyst's order. V knocks back the shot, letting the familiar feeling of the burning amber liquid ignite upon her tongue as it slides down her throat. It was only a moment before Amethyst approached, holding her own drink of a dreamy pink and purple hue.

“Thank you for the drink Miss V, I think I have something you’re looking for.” She smiled as she slid what looked to be a metallic cigarette case across the table, motioning for V to open it. V cocks an eyebrow at her before cautiously popping the case open to find a datastick and a handwritten note, a mix of shock and irritation crossing her face as she reads the note.

“You passed. Congrats. -N”

Masterlist

Credit: @winniethewife @burymesanti

#nathan bateman #cyberpunk v #cyberpunk 2077 #blue book #Bluebook #Tsunami watch #ex machina #ex machina fanfiction #nathan bateman x reader #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #oscar issac hernandez estrada #oscar issac x reader #cyberpunk fanfic #cyberpunk AU

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romana-after-dark · 6 months

Text

Pushing Buttons

Darkish!Nathan Bateman x fem!reader

Masterlist : Taglist

Summary: You purposefully piss Nathan off just to get used and degraded.

Warnings and Content: Hate fucking, everything is consenual but it not really what a good dom/sub dynamic should look like hence it being in the dark blog. Rough sex, spitting, lots of talk of sweat and spit. Foot fetish, Nathan is face stomping, which means he's got his foot on readers face, and the heel goes in her mouth at one point. I refuse to write literal non con on here and feel embarrassed for a foot fetish okay. LOTS OF DEGRADING TALK, like, seriously degrading. Only a little bit of aftercare and it's not an established part of their dynamic. Mentions of ass eating. Nathan and reader just being gross.

A/N: This is not the Dark!nathan I was talking about ealier but this was kinda a warm up to get a little more of a hold of his character. I may have to watch the movie again to get a feel for his mannerism. Or maybe I should write him drunk. Anyway. This came about after a convo with @hon3yboy and she encouraged me to write this after sharing hony thots about foot on face lol. Gonna take a quick sec and promo her, everyone should check out her Werewolf!Marc series

800 Words

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

You’d done it on purpose, honestly. You’d pissed Nathan off intentionally after he’d been ignoring you all day.

He was supposed to spend the day with you, take you hiking and fuck you in some steamy spring, but instead he had spent all day in his office coding. You tried to hang out in the office with him, to get him to remember his promise but instead you just got mad when you took a peek at his coding. You didn’t understand much about coding, but you looked at his notes and figured it out.

“You’re programming her to blow you?!?!?!”

This erupted in a big fight, Nathan insisting he wasn’t programming his AI to blow him, but to suck dick in general. You didn’t believe him, or maybe you did but you were too mad to think clearly, and ripped his computer off his desk and threw it on the floor.

That’s how you ended up here, tossed on the couch like a rag doll and molded into every position Nathan wants as he hate fucked you. At the moment, he had you on your knees and braced up against the arm rest as he knelt. With his fingers in your mouth, you gagged up spit that he smeared all over your face, rubbing your eye make up on your skin.

“Open.” Nathan order, and you vaguely open your eyes and mouth to accept the glob of spit that he didn’t even try to aim on your face.

“Dirty fucking whore, always trying to piss me off just so she can get abused.” Without a doubt, that’s what you did, but you fucking loved it. Sure, this wasn’t the perfect relationship, but it wasn’t really much of a relationship. You weren’t his girlfriend. You were just here. And although it was never meant to last long, you enjoyed the chaos.

Nathan pulled out, and before you could think much on it, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back before shoving your face into the couch and adjusting his own position. Standing on the couch cushion now, Nathan steadies himself by twisting one of your arms behind your back and putting the other one on the backrest for stability.

His right foot was planted directly on your face.

Nathan Bateman was barefoot most of the time. Living in a home with heated floors, he liked to “Let them bad boys breathe” It was his same justification for sleeping naked.

Planting his foot on your face was a new level of degradation as he fucked you, his words bringing you closer and closer to orgasm.

“Pathetic, dirty bitch, letting me step on your face, letting me shove your face in my ass.” Nathan panted over you. He was fit, but the activities you both engaged in always made him breathless, his sweat dripping down from his hairless head and onto your face. You tasted the salt, moaning as your cunt clenched around his massive length.

Nathan laughed a cruel, mocking laugh. “That turns you on? You’re fucking disgusting, you’re so pathetic, I should just- ohhhhfuckohfuck- I should just cum inside and got let you get off, leave you rutting against the couch like a bitch in heat.” Nathan filled you up over and over again, each thrust inward making his sweaty foot shove you into the cushion. “You're desperate enough, bet I could make you hum anything just to get off. God, sofuckingtight! Shit!” His grunts grow louder, his hips more frantic and you know he’s close, and so are you.

“Bet you’re the kind of girl I could fuck right up against a dumpster, just shove your face against the filth so I don’t have to look at your fucking face-”

That did it. “NATHAN!” You scream as you cum all around him, mouth wide open so his sweaty foot slide down enough you can taste him, but you don’t care. Nothing mattered when Nathan was inside you.

Nathan was cumming, filling you up as he called you his “disgusting little cum dumpster” and spitting on you one last time. With all the moisture on your face, his foot slipped off you and Nathan fell forward, his cock brutally spearing you as you both collapsed onto the couch.

“Fucking bitch.” Nathan smacked your ass as he walked butt naked, only to stop, pause, then turn around. Returning to your fucked out body, Nathan took his discarded shirt and wiped your face off before pulling a throw blanket over you. He leaned down, pinching your face in his fingers and speaking firmly. “Sleep”

Nathan pulled on his basketball shorts, and as your eyes drifted off into dreamland, so thoroughly exhausted, blissed out and satisfied, the sounds of Nathan taking the rest of his rage out on the punching back lulled you to sleep.

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

I know it's not my strongest work but I just wanted to test out some Nathan Bateman

Also, im updating my tag list so even if you commented to be on my tag list, please comment again. Before, i just had TLOU and Moon Knight, but I've been expanding so comment Oscar or Pedro characters please!

IDK whose all interested bc Nathan Bateman and its like foot fetish based lmfao so just tagging @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and @alwaysmicado who support my insanity.

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #fem reader #nathan bateman x you #ex machina #ex machina fanfiction #dark nathan bateman #dark!nathan bateman #nathan bateman fanfiction

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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months

Text

Fanfic February 2024 - Week Two

We are well past the halfway point of the month, but here are the collected links for Fanfic February 2024 - Week Two:

Winner Take All (Part Four) - A fourth chapter of my Nathan Bateman x fem!reader Ex Machina fic.

Hunted (Part Three) - A continuation of my Hunter x fem!reader Star Wars: The Bad Batch fic from FFF - 2022.

Noisy (Part Four) - A continuation of my Viktor x fem!reader Arcane fic.

Target Acquired (Part Three) - The first of a two-part installment of my Jango Fett x fem!reader Star Wars fic.

Target Acquired (Part Four) - The second half of this year's installment of my Jango Fett x fem!reader Star Wars fic.

A Boon (Part Five) - The fifth chapter of my Thranduil x fem!reader The Hobbit fic.

A Boon (Part Six) - The sixth (and final) chapter of my Thranduil x fem!reader The Hobbit fic.

All of these fics are either mature or explicit. Minors, please do not interact with my works.

You can find other fics on my masterlist, SFW Star Wars fics on my other sideblog - @wanderinginksplot-writes - or find me on AO3 under InkSplots.

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #ink's fics #ex machina fanfiction #star wars the bad batch #arcane #star wars #the hobbit #nathan bateman x reader #hunter x reader #viktor x reader #jango fett x reader #thranduil x reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #fanfiction

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freelancearsonist · 1 month

Note

if your reqs are open, could i ask how you think nathan would be with a hoh reader?🥺 thank you🫶

OH. 🥺 i actually had quite a bit of fun with this, thank you so much for sending this in lovely <3

his stages of grief are out of order. and out of line, really, considering he doesn't have any reason or right to be grieving your hearing. you've made peace with it, after all, but it takes him a while to do so.

it starts with anger, although nathan is more outraged at himself than at you. whether you were born hard of hearing or you have a degenerative disorder, it makes him grumpy at first. all he wants to do is be his usual grumbly mumbly self but he can't. he has to speak clearly, loudly, with efficiency, and when he uses his whole chest most of the things he says sound stupid. how can he complain out loud about the paper cut on his finger and how much it hurts to tweet when it sounds so dumb and trivial? he's not mad at you, never at you, but at how silly he feels all of a sudden because his first world problems sound so cringey when spoken so loudly.

then comes the denial. it's over quickly once he becomes aware of how gross and ableist it is, but it rears its ugly head for a few days nonetheless. are you really as deaf as you claim to be? if he lowers his voice a little bit, can he catch you off guard? surely you have to slip up eventually.

this thought process comes with a dollop of depression. are you pretending just because you don't want to listen to him? because you don't like talking to him? he spirals dangerously for a day or so until he realizes he can run tests and shit.

here comes the bargaining. he has your results laid out in front of him on his desk with you next to him, smirking at him because it's really kind of adorable how much he cares.

he's smart. smart is an understatement, really. he's a god, and a god should be able to bring your hearing back, right? he's sure that if he can get you hearing properly again--fix you--you'll have to love him forever. right?

and then comes the acceptance--the realization that there's nothing to fix. that you're perfect the way you are, and he doesn't mind accommodating your hearing. it's helped him, after all; not only to gain a new perspective, but to check his own privilege in more ways than one. no more grumbling about how his truffle coffee gets too hot when it's fresh or anything of the like. no more denying how much he likes having you around.

and the thing about being so smart is that it makes him thoughtful. he doesn't have to ask how he can help, how he can make your life easier, he just does it.

he sets every tv in the compound to have subtitles, just in case you want to watch a movie. he installs flashing light smoke detectors because he's been known to burn eggs on occasion. he puts hearing aid docks in every room in case you need a charge. he makes your life easier than it even needs to be, really, because that's just who he is. nathan "acts of service" bateman loves you the way you are, and it shows.

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman drabble #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina #ex machina fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #asks

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myysaints · 2 years

Text

drunk words are sober thoughts (nathan bateman)

nathan bateman x reader

summary: nathan, as usual, is drunk. but the words he says aren’t usual in the slightest.

contains: fluff, smattering of angst

note: i watched ex machina and yes i know nathan is technically a horrible person but when i see oscar isaac all thoughts go out of my head okay? all i see is hot man so here’s whatever this is <3 i also reccommend you listen to moon song by phoebe bridgers for peak emotions !!! but if u would like to save yourself the emotional torture i completely understand gfdjshadg. and NO SPOILERS!!!!

masterlist moon song (link to song)

01:34AM

Nathan Bateman can be a fucking asshole.

“C’mon, baby, just one dance, please?”

You can tell Nathan is drunk by the way he’s being uncharacteristically polite. At least, the “please” is.

For the past hour or so, Nathan has been drunkenly waltzing around the house, bumping into corners and mumbling apologies to inanimate objects as he crashes into them. You could almost find it cute, if you weren’t scrambling to prevent another precious object from crashing to the ground every five seconds or so. The last time Nathan got drunk (see: last week) he nearly poured an entire cup of water onto the mainframe computer. Thankfully, you’d managed to stop him in time, otherwise who knows what might have happened.

As much as he claims to be organised and purposeful, his behaviour drunk says otherwise. He’s like a hurricane, sweeping through your shared house carelessly and mindlessly, prone to leaving unintentional destruction everywhere he goes.

“Please, baby.” He’s smiling now, not his usual smirk or smug grin. A genuine, dopey smile. The kind you see rarely in Nathan Bateman. And that smile is so bright and so big when he says playfully, “Indulge a guy in the only thing that makes him happy, will ‘ya?”

You quirk a brow. “So, I don’t make you happy? Duly noted, Nathan.”

“No, no, come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he pouts, his brown eyes widening almost comically as he blunders towards you. Wrapping a loose arm around you, he looks down with something akin to affection in his eyes, swaying both your bodies to whatever 70s beat is playing. “’Yer my faaaaaaaaaavourite thing in the world, baby. My favourite.”

“Alright, alright, I’m your favourite.” You shake your head in amusement, watching as a satisfied smirk settles on his face. “Now get some sleep, dummy. You’re gonna wake up with a shitty hangover if you don’t and I don’t wanna deal with your moaning and groaning in the morning.”

“Don’t wanna.”

You sigh, “Fine, then. At least get into bed with me? Make your ‘favourite thing in the world’ happy?”

With a disgruntled mumble at getting his dance session cut short, he grumpily stumbles over to your shared bed. You pat the space beside you, even going so far as to fluff up his pillow, though you know he’ll end up tossing it onto the ground at some point in the night.

“Come here, you big baby,” you let him crash onto you, letting out a slightly pained “Oof!” when his face practically smushes itself into your chest. Of course, he laughs giddily at that.

Soon enough, he rolls over, his breathing low and heavy as you lie quietly beside him, tracing the cuts and marks he’s collected on his skin over the years, reminders of the work he does. Welding and coding and creating something incredible. Though you don’t know what exactly, you trust when he says that it’ll change the world.

“Y’know I love you, right?”

You stiffen.

He grumbles, bringing a hand to shield his eyes when you flick on the nightlight. You sit up sharply, inhaling almost forcefully as your head begins to spin.

Love. That’s not a word you’ve heard exit Nathan’s mouth before. You’re almost certain that it’s just a slip of the tongue, that really, it’s just a drunken silly offhanded thing and when he wakes up he won’t even remember it.

Because that’s the deal with Nathan. You love him, and he… Well, you can only ever assume he loves you back. You know him, know that it’ll probably take years of coaxing for him to ever admit that he shares an ounce of the affection you have for him. He could never admit it, to you nor to himself, but that’s how it is. That’s how he is. And you’ve accepted that, you’ve accepted that you’ll inevitably always be the one giving a hundred and one percent while he gives ninety-nine.

“Hey.”

You look to him, slowly sitting up and blinking the cloud of exhaustion and alcohol away. There’s a clarity in his eyes now that wasn’t there before, and he reaches for your hand, eyes pleading.

You give in, you always do.

“I love you.”

“You sure you won’t regret that in the morning?” you whisper, smiling dolefully.

He shakes his head, grinning tiredly. He points to the cameras hovering above you both, and waves.

Then, he takes you into his arms, and with the passion of a man fevered with alcohol and love, he kisses you. And the way he holds you tells you all you need to know.

#oscar isaac #ex machina #nathan bateman x reader #oscar isaac x reader #ex machina fanfiction #nathan bateman #nathan bateman imagine #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman fanfiction #˖⁺‧₊˚ 📂 ── my writing #꒰ ⁺‧₊˚ [🍰] miscellaneous

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gingersforeverbox · 3 months

Text

Y’ALL

I was listening to Poppy’s new song V.A.N. And it fits Ex Machina so well!! I can easily imagine something with Ava or Kyoko to this piece and I may or may not write a little something about it, I’m not sure yet ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#ginger talks #song rec #ex machina #ex machina fanfiction #Spotify

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spacecowboyhotch · 1 month

Text

Again

about this: nathan bateman x f!reader. contents: 18+/nsfw/minors dni, smut, wife kink, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, nathan the asshole simp™️. wc: 1031. an: my brain plagued me with this thought at like 12 am. here it is.

oscar issac characters masterlist

This is not how you anticipated your time in the garden would pan out. The sun hangs high in the sky, a soft breeze swirling in the air. You’d been halfway done with your task of weeding and watering the garden when Nathan sauntered down the steps of the front porch.

“Can I help you?” You ask, glancing over at him.

He holds up his hands, rounding his eyes with innocence. “Can’t a man ogle his wife?”

You should’ve known then and there that he was up to no good. Slowly but surely, Nathan gets closer and closer. With each step your blood rises, your heart thumping steadily in your ears. Until his lips are ghosting your temple, beard tickling at your skin.

Now, despite that cooling breeze, you are warm. There’s pure, overwhelming heat coupled with sparking pleasure. You’re surrounded by it, drowning in it and there’s no place you would rather be.

“Nathan,” You breathe, the sound of your voice feeling miles away.

You hear a deep hum, the scratch of his beard against your thighs, and then an inhaling breath. When you sit up on your elbows to gaze down at him, Nathan’s dark brown eyes glitter back at you. His mouth and beard shine with your slick as his lips curl into a smirk.

He wags his eyebrows, voice so soft and sweet as he asks, “What is it, honey?”

“I was doing something,” You huff, still out of breath though his work has stopped momentarily.

It’s not lost on you how this would look from another point of view. Your panties in a heap in the grass, sundress bunched around your breasts. Nathan rutting into the ground as he sips from between your legs like it’s the fountain of life. There are tools and weeds spread about, dirt smeared on skin and clothing alike. You two are the definition of a dirty, horny mess.

Nathan’s smile widens into something as beautiful as it is arousing, sending a shiver up your spine. “And now, you’re doing me. Lay back, I’m making my wife cum.”

You don’t have the discipline to object, not that you want to. Nathan had brought you to the precipice of your peak just to tease you down more than once, and now you’re wound tight, ready for release.

Nathan slides into you with practiced ease, bending to capture your mouth with his own, moans melting into each other’s. His hips move against yours, gently but relentlessly, withdrawing completely before pressing in as far as your body will take him.

You let your legs fall open wider, clutching at his shoulders to stay as steady and still as possible, wanting it just like this, just how he’s giving it to you. He dusts kisses on any part of you he can reach as he continues to fuck you— your cheeks, jaw, neck, coveting every inch of you.

“That’s it, baby, let me fuck you. Let me make you feel good like I’m s’pose to. That’s what I’m for, hmm? To make my wife cum. Give her whatever she wants.”

“Nathan, please. I need you, need more,” You beg softly.

He gets two of his fingers wet, snaking them between you so that he can rub softly at your clit. “I need you too, honey. C’mon, I know you can cum for me. Can’t you?”

“Yes. Mhmm, I can,” You nod, eyes wild with lust when you gaze up at him.

“Your pussy’s so fucking good, baby. Perfect fucking wife with the perfect little pussy. Gonna make me fill you up,” He groans, his voice growing more hoarse as he slowly unravels.

His cock, his praise, his filth— they wind you tight, tight, tight, until you cum, clenching around his cock as you call out his name. Nathan lets out a breath gasp and then he’s filling you to the brim, whispering into your ear how much he loves you.

He kisses you until you’re both breathless and only then does he pull out to clean you both up. Nathan helps you into your panties and smooths your sundress back into place before refastening his jeans and snaking an arm around your waist. The two of you lay in content silence besides the occasional chirp of a bird and your mingling breath.

Suddenly he asks, “Do you wanna get married?”

You nearly choke on your laughter, turning your head to look over at him, “We are married, you made it very clear in the filth you were spewing at me.”

He ignores your teasing, his brows are drawn together so you know he’s serious. “Again. Do you want to get married again?”

“Nathan, that wedding was a fortune.”

“Who gives a fuck how much it costs,” He scoffs, pulling you more firmly onto his chest. “I don’t mean like that. I mean just me and you. The guy who guides the bullshit.”

“The bullshit, huh?”

“You know what I mean. What do you think?”

You frown, leaning back a little bit to look him in the eye. “I thought you liked our wedding.”

“Honey, I fucking loved our wedding,” He reassures you easily, smoothing a hand over your cheek.

“Then why again?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to marry you again?”

His answer completely floors you. Your heart melts. Soft and gooey, completely pliable and completely his. You’d ask him to marry you if he wasn’t already yours if he hadn’t already asked you for the second time. You can see that your speechlessness is starting to get in his head, and he opens his mouth to say something.

You quickly cut him off with a kiss, murmuring against his lips, “I love it when you get all sentimental.”

There is no denying the soft flush in his cheeks, “Hush.”

“Yes, Nathan, I’ll marry you again. Can we do it here?” You gesture around to the garden.

“Can I do you here?” He asks suggestively, that charming smirk gracing his face again.

“You already did.”

“Again,” He whispers into your ear before he starts to suck kisses into the skin of your neck.

“Again,” You breathe in agreement, blinking up at the blue sky once more.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333

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alwaysmicado · 2 months

Text

smile, baby

5.1k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: D/s dynamic, drinking, degradation, orgasm denial, masturbation (m), spitting, big fat cumshot Summary: Nathan teaches you a lesson in submission. You hate love it. A/N: Filth with heart. I can't be normal about this man, okay? Can be read alone or as a prequel to in control and predator & prey. Enjoy and let me know what you think! 🤍

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks. “Giving up control. Being able to turn your brain off.”

– – –

“What are we doing tonight?” You sit down on the couch beside Nathan, a glass of wine in hand.

“I’m watching TV,” he answers coldly without as much as a glance in your direction.

“Hmm…okay,” you murmur. You take a generous sip from your glass, appreciating Nathan’s excellent taste in wine. It’s your favorite; you discovered it on a trip to France during your college years and haven’t been able to find it since then.

What an incredible coincidence that he would just have it here, right?

Not right.

Unbeknownst to you, Nathan meticulously arranged every single detail of your living environment before you even crossed the threshold of his mansion for the first time.

The exquisite wine you now sip, seemingly a stroke of luck, was deliberately stocked to align with your taste. Much like the lavender shampoo that envelops you in its soothing fragrance during each shower, the never-ending supply of fresh strawberries, and the perpetually replenishing KitKats in your minibar, each aspect of your surroundings has been carefully curated to ensure your every comfort is met.

You haven’t really picked up on that fact yet, as you’re still in the process of settling into your new, exciting, but overwhelming environment.

In the two weeks since moving in, you’ve immersed yourself in the intricacies of artificial intelligence, navigating the uncharted waters of innovation under Nathan’s eccentric mentorship.

And eccentric, he is.

It took you five minutes of mostly one-sided conversation to realize that his intellect, an unmatched force of brilliance, is rivaled only by the staggering magnitude of his ego.

And, even more strikingly, it took you just as little time to realize you’ve never craved another human being as badly as you do him. There’s just something about him…beneath all the arrogance and assholery. You can’t put your finger on it, but you feel it’s there.

Nathan sensed your immediate attraction to him, of course, reading your microexpressions and body language. And after a few days of subtle teasing, he decided to give you a small taste of pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of, only to leave you without it for the past week since then.

Beyond lingering glances, the subtle brush of his hand against the small of your back in the kitchen, the knowing smirk when he catches you stealing glances at the bulge in his shorts, or his deliberate choice to work out shirtless—Nathan has been purposefully cold, relishing in your growing desperation.

For him, this is more than a game; he revels in a level of amusement he hasn’t experienced in years.

He could never get the androids to look at him with the same intensity, hunger, and raw need he can see in your eyes, and the control he now holds over your desires is a source of unparalleled satisfaction.

He definitely made the right choice by selecting you.

Nestling your feet under you in an attempt to find comfort on the cushion, you silently study your boss’s profile, observing as he brings the fourth bottle of beer to his lips. Your eyes slowly trace the distinct contours of his nose, the meticulous lines of his beard, the strength evident in his neck and shoulders, until they finally reach the casual sprawl of his naked feet at rest on the coffee table.

His lidded eyes remain unwaveringly fixated on the screen as he leisurely surfs through the channels, a deliberate act of indifference that extends to ignoring your presence. You nervously chew on your lip, trying your hardest not to break the silence first, even though you so obviously want to.

Seemingly absorbed in the movie he settled on, Nathan is keenly aware of your eyes repeatedly drifting towards him, lingering for a few seconds before retreating reluctantly back to the indifferent glow of the screen.

You’re so cute when you’re trying to be coy.

“Did you think of me?” he asks suddenly, taking a sip of his beer.

“Did I…huh?” you respond, startled, your brow furrowed in confusion.

He turns his head to look at you, his face revealing no emotion, his dark eyes piercing yours. A shiver runs down your spine as his gaze drops to your lips for a split second before finding your sparkling eyes again.

“When you were fucking yourself with that purple dildo last night. Did you think of me?” He peers at you with a straight face, casually taking another sip from his bottle.

“Wha–”

Your heart skips a beat, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks as his words hang in the air. Shocked and exposed, your eyes widen, and your body tenses. After a few endless seconds, surprise turns into a mixture of anger and humiliation as you figure out how he knows.

Mother. Fucker. There’s a fucking camera in your room.

“No need to act embarrassed, baby,” he scoffs. “You put on quite a show.”

“It’s not technically a show when I’m unaware that my pervy boss is watching me, though, is it?” you snap at him, crossing your arms defensively in front of your chest.

“Yeah, well. It’s all in the NDA you signed.”

“Oh, of course it is,” you chuckle incredulously, looking up at the high ceiling of the living room.

“Did you think of me?” Nathan asks again, his eyes not leaving you.

“Uh...yeah, I did.” You down the rest of your wine in one go.

“Tell me about it.”

You sigh deeply. “You saw everything, so why don’t you tell me?” you say, unsuccessfully trying to mask your embarrassment with annoyance.

Nathan raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond.

When he had you on your knees in front of him a week ago, hands tied behind your back, allowing you a few seconds to catch your breath before going back to fucking your throat, he asked if you’d thought of him while touching yourself. You were flying high at that point, teetering on the edge, so desperate for release that you would have admitted anything he asked.

And so, you blurted out the truth.

He can tell you regret it now, but that only makes him want to push you further. The thought of forcing you to admit what you want, what you are, has his cock hardening in his sweatpants.

“Okay, fine,” you murmur, unable to take the deafening silence anymore. You clear your throat and shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“I couldn’t fall asleep and thought…you know, an orgasm might help. So I started with my hand, trying to get myself off as fast as possible. But then, um, that wasn’t enough,” you trail off, your gaze avoiding his, and you set the empty wine glass on the coffee table with a sigh.

“Look at me, baby.”

Nathan studies your face, typically adorned with a confident smile, and feels a surge of satisfaction as he takes in your dilated pupils and bashful expression. This is turning you on.

“Continue.”

“My fingers weren’t enough, so I thought I could use the toy I brought. I, um,” you inhale and exhale deeply, “I imagined it was you and I thought of what you…I thought of what you’d do to me.”

Anxiously, you search his eyes for a sign of approval, your heart racing in your chest.

“What did you think I’d do to you?” he asks, taking a swig of his beer without breaking eye contact.

You swallow audibly, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your cheeks ablaze with heat. The sensation coursing through your body is undeniable—an intoxicating blend of humiliation and arousal.

Under Nathan’s intense scrutiny, you can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing second, succumbing to the forbidden pleasure of confessing your innermost, shameful desires.

“I thought you’d grab me like last time and kiss me…kiss my neck, bite my lip, hold me down while…” you stop again, too ashamed to go on.

“Hold you down while?” Nathan prompts, making it clear that you’re not done talking.

You tilt your head and furrow your brow as your gaze lingers on the man who has dominated every waking thought since the first time your eyes locked with his.

He’s condescending, self-centered, moody, and so used to playing God in his kingdom of androids that he’s seemingly forgotten how to connect with humans and their emotions. And yet, there’s an inexplicable allure about him that has you longing for his touch, his attention, his…guidance.

What is going on with you?

“I imagined you’d put your weight on me, keeping me pinned down, making it impossible for me to get away,” you say, peering at him through your lashes. “You’d fuck me, hard, using me in any way you like.”

You bite your lip and shift in your seat, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you catch sight of Nathan’s hard cock twitching beneath the elastic fabric of his sweatpants. He’s still looking at you, his casual demeanor unchanged, beer in hand on his belly.

“You’d take, um, you’d take control of me, choking me, muffling my screams with your hand, grabbing my tits. I’d beg you to let me come, you’d bring me right to the edge and then you’d stop, denying me over and over again, and using me until I…”

“Until you?”

The subtle arch of Nathan’s eyebrow, the lingering scent of his beard oil, the way his lips press against the glass bottle’s opening—it all ignites an overwhelming surge of arousal within you, urging you to give him what he wants.

“Until I couldn’t take it anymore,” you purr seductively, your pupils so dilated your eyes are black.

“Is that the thought that made you squirt all over your bed?”

Your jaw drops and your chest tightens, the humiliation intensifying as he talks about this intimate, vulnerable moment with such nonchalance. Like it’s not a complete invasion of your privacy. Like he’s not penetrating the very core of your personal boundaries.

You feel a flutter in your stomach, and your throat constricts as you struggle to find your words.

“I…no,” you murmur, averting your gaze. Your eyes land on Nathan’s hand gripping the bottle a little harder than before. “What pushed me over the edge was you telling me to come.”

When your eyes meet his again, you recognize the same dark glint in them that you saw seconds before his lips crashed against yours for the first time.

“I would beg you to let me come over and over again, and you’d always deny me…until you decided I deserved it. And when you, uh, when you ordered me to come on your cock, I came so hard I lost all control.”

Nathan can barely hold back a groan as you confess your desire for his dominance. His cock is leaking precum, staining the inside of his pants. He’s this close to ripping your clothes off and taking you right here, right now, burying himself deep inside you and filling you up with his cum.

But that’s not the plan for tonight.

“Is that so,” is all he says, turning his head back to the TV, a satisfied, almost unnoticeable smirk playing on his lips. He chugs the rest of his beer, then sets the empty bottle down on the little side table next to him.

Keeping his eyes on the flickering screen, he purposely ignores you again, reveling in the escalating neediness and desperation he perceives from you. He can sense your fidgeting and squirming beside him, uncertain of your next move. After a brief pause, you lift your hand but retract it hesitantly. Amused, Nathan catches a glimpse of your indecision from the corner of his eye.

You’re such a perfect little slut—beautiful, eager, smart, pliant. And it just tickles him that you could scream at him to fuck your ass harder during sex, but act all shy and flustered when asked to talk about it.

Another minute of silence, and you’re unable to resist any longer. Your swollen clit is painfully sensitive, your damp panties are clinging to your pussy, and your brain is screaming at you to make a move. You reach out again, this time making contact with Nathan’s clothed chest. The rhythmic beat of his heart becomes palpable under your touch, and feeling his body connected with yours has you pressing your thighs together.

Your breath quickens as you slowly start trailing your hand down his chest and his belly, but before you get a chance to touch his cock, he stills your hand with his.

“Don’t,” he says without looking at you.

You wince and immediately pull your hand away, clasping it protectively against your chest with your other hand.

“I thought…sorry.” You look at him like he just slapped you.

Nathan sighs, but doesn’t say anything. There’s no scolding, no inquiries, no indication of what he wants you to do—it’s unnerving. You’re fidgeting with your shirt again, clearing your throat, and shifting your legs, trying to find a position that will alleviate at least some of the burning ache in your core.

“Can I–” you say quietly, but cut yourself off. You’re facing him completely now, feet tucked under you, hands on your thighs, a silent restraint preventing you from reaching out to touch him again.

Satisfied that you’re learning, he decides to reward you with his attention. His eyes find yours again, and he’s pleasantly surprised by what he sees. It’s not just lust or neediness; no, you’re lost. Completely, unequivocally lost without his orders.

Nathan’s used to Kyoko looking at him with a blank face, awaiting his commands, reacting to his actions, doing what he programmed her to do. But this is different.

You actually want him to tell you what to do.

He takes his feet off the coffee table and scoots back in his seat, spreading his legs. “Sit on the floor,” he orders, watching with an imperceptible smile as your eyes light up. You quickly get off the couch and kneel on the floor between his legs, your eyes fixated on the outline of his cock inches from your face.

You want to taste it so bad you can feel yourself salivating at the sight. You bite your lip and move a little closer, looking up at Nathan expectantly before gently putting your hands on his thighs. He lifts his hips slightly, groaning at the delicious feeling of his tip rubbing against his pants. You take that as a sign to continue, moving your hands further up to the waistband.

“No,” he says calmly before you can pull it down.

“Why not?” You don’t pull away your hands this time. “You’re hard. Why won’t you let me–”

“Look.” He leans down to tilt your chin up with his thumb and index finger. “I get that you’re a needy whore and seeing my cock instinctively makes you want to suck it, I really do, baby,” he scoffs, condescension dripping from his words. “But I honestly thought you’d be able to follow a simple instruction even dogs can understand.”

A sharp inhale catches in your throat and your eyes widen at his demeaning words. Your gaze locked onto his, you can feel a surge of frustration coursing through your veins, tinged with a spark of defiance. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure.

Nathan tilts his head, studying your expression, your reaction. You could have slapped him by now, stormed off, told him to go fuck himself—anything. But no, you’re still kneeling between his legs, lust and determination evident in your eyes.

“Let’s try this again, hm?” His thumb gently traces your bottom lip. The sensation sends a wave of ecstasy through your body and it takes all of your self-control not to start sucking on his finger. He can read in your eyes what you’re thinking, so he repeats the motion with your upper lip just to test your resolve.

The way you squirm under his touch is mesmerizing and oh so gratifying.

“Sit on the floor.”

He releases his hold on your chin, reclines into the couch, grabs another beer from the side table, and redirects his attention back to the TV.

You decide to crawl out from between his legs, ensuring he gets a tantalizing view of your shapely ass in those snug yoga shorts. Leaning against the couch with a deep sigh, you position yourself next to his leg. You glance up at him, searching for a sign that he’s happy with your obedience—and also very much hoping for a reward that involves him fucking your brains out again.

It’s not as if you don’t deserve it for enduring his grandiose monologues and drunken crying sessions every other night. Besides, you’re hot, and he should be so lucky…

To your frustration, though, he’s ignoring you again, absentmindedly tapping the beer bottle with his index finger as his eyes stay focused on the movie. He can feel your annoyance, your anger, and it’s almost enough to get his softening cock hard again.

You sit in silence for a minute before quietly scooting closer and gently leaning against Nathan’s leg. Feeling him, even through fabric, is enough to embolden you to go further. You look up at him, trying to be sneaky. He doesn’t look at you. His eyes are fixated on the TV, one hand cradling his beer, the other casually draped over the backrest.

You’re not giving up that easily. Your pussy won’t let you. Just one little touch, and you’re convinced you can get him in the mood. Just one little touch, and he won’t be able to resist you. Just one little–

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Then why the fuck am I down here?”

“Because I want you to be.”

“Oh, wow,” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “And now what? You think I’m just gonna sit here and watch you get drunk?”

He ignores your pouting.

“I got better stuff to do, you know.”

He turns up the volume of the TV.

“This is so dumb, Nathan. Why do you want me to sit here if you’re just gonna ignore me?”

“You like it when I tell you what to do,” he says calmly.

You’re taken aback by his statement and furrow your brow. “Well, yeah…but this isn’t…I–”

He looks down at you, effectively shutting you up.

It’s absolutely amazing how he can watch in real time as the defiant fire in your eyes fizzles out. The small, self-satisfied smile creeping across his arrogant face stings.

He’s such a cocky bastard.

You huff agitatedly, cross your arms in front of your chest, demonstratively turn away from him, and kick your legs out from under you. Nathan, on the other hand, relaxes in his seat. He’s thoroughly enjoying your little show, and your pouting doesn’t bother him. Not as long as you’re doing what you’re told.

After a few minutes of listening to the blood rushing in your ears and the occasional gulping sound coming from Nathan working on his beer, you can’t hold it back any longer.

“I’m not just gonna stay down here,” you hiss at him.

“Yes, you are.”

Unbelievable.

You stare at him incredulously. “And what makes you so sure of that, huh? I could just walk away and leave you here to sulk. I don’t need this, okay? And you–you can’t just–”

Nathan says your name sharply. “Stop your whining. You’re sitting on the floor because I told you to. That’s it.”

He looks at you, his eyebrow arched, daring you to defy him.

“That’s it?” you repeat, your eyes narrowed.

Nathan smirks and turns towards the TV again, slowly sipping his beer.

“Yup. That’s it.”

You glower at him, and, for a brief moment, he half-expects you to finally get up and storm out in frustration. He wouldn’t mind, really. But there seems to be a subtle shift within you, and after a few tense seconds, you release a long, aggravated breath. Turning away from him, you cross your arms with annoyance, and firmly plant your back against the couch.

Nathan keeps an eye on you, observing how your tense posture relaxes and how you make yourself comfortable after a few more minutes of sitting at his feet.

It’s an image he wants to savor.

You’ve been good for some time now, doing what he told you to do, submitting to him nicely. He decides to reward your obedience, reaching out to pet the back of your head. You’re startled and your body stiffens at his touch, but he can feel you relax more and more with each gentle stroke of his palm up and down the nape of your neck. He gives you a soothing massage, soft scratches, allows you to lean into his touch.

He’s stroking you for some time, relishing the feeling of dominance, of control, until a quiet moan escapes your lips.

Nathan smiles to himself and tightens his grip on your neck for a few seconds, intensifying the sensation. You sigh in pleasure and close your eyes, getting lost in his forceful touch. He then loosens his grip, and you release a contented sigh as you rest your head against his leg. He lets you, gently scratching your scalp, your soft moans music to his ears.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs. “It’s so much better when you do what I say, hm?”

You lift your head to meet his gaze, your brow furrowed.

Seeing you look up at him with those pretty, lust-filled eyes of yours is enough to get his cock hard again.

“You can just do what you’re told,” he says, his fingers gently tracing your neck. “You don’t have to think, or ask questions. You can just let yourself fall and give up control.”

Your eyes widen, and he caresses your cheek.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks. “Giving up control. Being able to turn your brain off. Not having to think for yourself, not having to make decisions.”

You don’t respond, mesmerized by his dark eyes and calm voice. There’s a hint of surprise in your expression, but that doesn’t surprise him. You’ve been suppressing your desire for submission for a long time, and now, he’s presenting you with the chance to finally embrace it.

“If I want you to sit on the floor because that’s where I feel you belong, you don’t ask why. You just do it,” he says, running his thumb over your lips again. “Right?”

You nod slowly and press your thighs together with a little whine. Your panties are drenched and it physically hurts you how empty you feel.

“Very good,” Nathan murmurs, pressing his thumb against your lips, and giving you a quick nod when you look at him questioningly. You open your mouth for him to slide his finger inside, your eyes going even wider at the sensation.

Nathan’s cock twitches at your total submission.

He gently thrusts his thumb in and out of your mouth, sliding it along your warm tongue. You suck and lick it seductively, eyes half-closed as you hum around the digit, swirling your tongue around it as if to show him what his cock is missing.

He sucks in a sharp breath and takes his thumb back out of your mouth, pulling down your bottom lip slowly before bringing his face close to yours.

You half-expect him to kiss you, but instead he murmurs, “Clothes off, hands on your thighs.”

He watches contentedly as your eyes light up, and you eagerly follow his orders, pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra, pulling down your shorts and panties in one swift motion.

“Kneel over there,” he says, directing you to a spot away from the couch.

He gets up and pulls down his sweatpants, letting them fall onto the floor. You stare at his cock with need, awe, and a tinge of fear—your holes were sore for days after your last encounter. He smiles to himself, crossing the distance between you two, and positioning himself in front of you.

You’re sitting back on your heels, thighs spread, your hands firmly placed on them, your glistening pussy on display. There’s a smooth arch in your back and your head is tilted upwards as you wait for further instructions.

Nathan looks down at you, his eyes scanning your naked body, spits in his hand and starts stroking his cock. He groans at the delicious feeling of finally getting some relief. He hasn’t jerked off all day, despite watching the tape of you fucking yourself after he got up this morning. And after lunch. And again this afternoon.

To say he’s pent up would be an understatement.

“That’s it,” he moans, wasting no time to tease himself. His right hand sets a steady pace, sliding up and down his length with honed efficiency.

“I’m gonna come all over your pretty face, baby. And you’re gonna take it like a good girl, aren’t you?”

The thought of it, of Nathan marking you that way, dirty and wrong and everything you’re not supposed to desire, it sends a surge of heat through your body, settling in your clit with a throb.

You whimper an unintelligible response, your eyes fixated on his hand moving in practiced motions around his thick cock. Nathan chuckles above you, and you manage to tear your eyes away from his cock to catch the look of dark amusement on his face.

“You gotta speak up, baby. Or are you too cock-drunk to use your words already?”

You swallow hard and dig your nails into the flesh of your thighs. “Y-yes,” you manage to choke out. Your face burns with humiliation, intensifying your desperation as you plead, “Please come on my face, Nathan. I want you to mark me. Please give me your cum. Please.”

Shocked at your unexpectedly bold words, Nathan’s hand momentarily falters in its movement, before picking up again with increased speed.

A strangled groan bubbles out of his throat, followed by your name and a swipe of his thumb over the tip of his cock. His dark eyes meet yours for a split second, looking down at you as you’re patiently waiting for your reward with an opened mouth.

You writhe and squirm at the sound of Nathan’s groans and the intense sight of him pleasuring himself. You’ve never seen anything hotter. You want to touch yourself, to rub your clit or slip your fingers into your wet core—to finally get some release—but you resist the urge, clenching your hands into fists.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, baby,” Nathan pants, his words coming ragged and tight. He’s so close.

You look up into his lidded eyes and whisper, “Please.”

“You want that, huh? Oh fuck. Such a filthy little cumslut.”

You moan at his words and feel your walls clench in desperation. Your arousal is dripping out of your pussy onto the floor below, an obscene sight that confirms what Nathan already knew.

You’re loving this.

Nathan’s hand is jerking his leaking cock, fast and firm, as he races toward his orgasm. He’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can feel—the wet squelching sound of his hand around his slick cock, his grunts and moans, the mumbled curses, the heat radiating off his imposing body.

You see him twitch in his hand and your swollen clit pulsates in response. He increases the speed of his hand and reaches to fondle his balls with his left hand. It takes a harsh squeeze and a “Holy shit, fuck!” before he’s coming with a long, low moan.

Your eyes shut instinctively but you don’t flinch as you can feel it hitting your face and tits in hot, wet spurts. You stay still, like the good girl that you are, moaning as another thick rope of Nathan’s cum lands across your lips, dripping into your mouth, salty and bitter on your tongue.

You don’t get to see his face as he comes, but the explicit sounds that reach your ears are enough to make you twitch and moan in pleasure, expanding the puddle beneath you.

Nathan strokes himself through his orgasm until his balls are empty and he’s milked every last drop out of his cock and onto your face—until he’s painted you with it, until he’s marked you as his.

“Goddamnit.”

Spent, he lets go of his pulsating cock, putting his hands on his hips, taking a step back to take a good, long look at his work of art.

Your face is painted white with cum, spread all over your cheeks, chin, and dripping down to your tits. You put on a little show, gathering up the drops with your finger and sensually putting them on your tongue while keeping unwavering eye contact.

“You can swallow,” Nathan says, pleased with your conduct.

You do as he says, happily adding some more cum from your lips, and swallowing it all down with a blissed-out smile.

“Thank you, Sir,” you coo.

“Such a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, stepping closer. He bends down, grabs the back of your neck forcefully, and tilts your head up.

“Open your mouth, slut. Tongue out.”

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for him to see. He leans in to let a big glob of his spit fall directly into your open mouth. He hums in satisfaction as he watches you swallow it eagerly, and then he finally kisses you, dirty and messy, tasting himself on your tongue. You moan into his mouth, bucking your hips, desperate for him to finally touch your neglected pussy.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips, making you moan. “Now, go get cleaned up.”

Oh no, he wouldn’t.

You stare at him with wide eyes. “But I–”

“Go. Get. Cleaned. Up.”

“But I haven’t…what about me?” you stammer, your voice trembling.

“What about you?” he responds with a raised eyebrow, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Your face falls and his cock pulsates at your expression. You look like you’re close to crying, your thighs pressed together to alleviate your aching clit, your nails painfully digging into your palms. You’re shaking with anger and frustration.

Nathan’s never been as turned on as he is from seeing you suffer—you’re just so pretty when you’re denied.

He can already picture himself playing with every part of you for hours on end, denying you over and over again until your body is ablaze with burning anticipation. And then, once he’s finally reduced you to a brainless, overstimulated mess, he’ll wrap his hand around your throat and make you take him until you beg him to stop.

But that’s for another day.

“Smile, baby,” he smirks, tapping your cum-stained cheek and straightening up to get himself another beer from the kitchen. “You’re on camera.”

– – –

Thank you for reading! 🤍

in control || predator & prey || main masterlist

tagging: @pattwtf @tuquoquebrute let me know if you want me to add you!

#nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #nathan ex machina #nathan bateman #nathan bateman fic #ex machina fanfiction #smut #oscar isaac fic #ex machina

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melodygatesauthor · 5 months

Text

Fuckin' Stupid

Nathan Bateman X f!Reader

Blurb 19 for Melody's 2023 Ficversary Celebration

NSFW below the cut

Nathan was fucking you over your desk. He had your right cheek against the surface, his palm pressing on your face so hard you thought you could taste blood.

“You are so fucking stupid, like seriously the dumbest employee in the whole fucking company,” he exhaled a staggered breath as his hips slammed forward painfully against you, driving your hips into the desk.

“I’m sorry sir I–”

“I’m sowwy–shut the fuck up,” he hissed. “It’s hard enough to come in something dumber than a blowup doll, I don’t wanna hear you talking t-too f-fuck!”

No matter how much he degraded you, you knew he loved the feeling every time your walls squeezed around him in response.

“You know if you were one of my androids I would’ve been done already, but your pussy is so loose I can hardly feel it s-squeezing…I can…mmm-f-fu-u-uh–”

You felt him gushing, fat dick throbbing with every spurt of hot white that painted your insides. His hand was crushing you, pushing you harder against the desk while his other hand was digging nails so deep into your flesh you were certain he broke the skin. His moans echoed through the room and without a doubt could be heard by the receptionist at the front desk.

No matter how much Nathan talked shit, he loved your cunt. At least, the fact that he always came in under three minutes each time let you know he did. He pulled out, sniffing deeply through his nose before spitting on your back and muttering how gross you looked. He mentioned something about cleaning yourself up before he left you like that, bent over the desk and dripping in his fluids.

It was no surprise later when you checked your email to see…you got a raise.

Melody's 2023 Ficversary Masterlist

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dyns33 · 7 months

Text

The stupid genius

A little Nathan Bateman x female reader

Y/N should have known.

Truth be told, she had had doubts at first, when Nathan started cooking for her, and asking her questions about her day, actually listening to her answers even if he could see everything on his cameras, and kissing her with tenderness, and taking her to bed only to concentrate on her pleasure.

This was not normal, because Nathan Bateman was a selfish genius who understood nothing about human relationships and social rules.

But Y/N loved him despite all his flaws. He had managed to seduce her by showing some vulnerable sides, in addition to his intelligence and his humor, so she had thought that he was doing this for her, to show her that he loved her too, after all this time together.

So she let her guard down, and enjoyed every moment.

Then, one evening, because he had hardly slept in three days, she went to look for Nathan in his office to ask him to rest a bit.

She then saw what he was working on lately.

Nathan had never hidden from Y/N that he wanted to create the perfect AI. She was undoubtedly the only person alive aware of his project, which was a great honor and a demonstration of trust, aided by the confidentiality contract she had signed.

The part he was working on now was very important : the ability of the A to have emotions, or at least to act as if it had emotions.

It was not a big deal. What Y/N didn't really like was discovering photos and videos of her on Nathan's screens, all the moments they had spent together for several weeks.

"… Can you explain this to me ?"

"Hmm ?" was Nathan's response, who didn't even seem to notice that she had entered. "What ?"

"What are you doing ?"

"You're not stupid, you see what I'm doing. I use a database to code the emotional responses of my creations."

"But why not movies? Why not someone else ?"

"Movies aren't real life, babe. I want real emotions. It has to be fluid, honest, and it's better for the same AI if it's the same person. I wanted answers specific to certain situations, so it was easier."

“… Fuck you, babe.” Y/N spat as she walked out.

Nathan didn't follow her. He didn't seem to understand why she was angry, and he probably thought it wouldn't last, like most of the arguments they'd had in the past.

Each time, he joined her in the bedroom, or the next morning. He took her in his arms, kissed her neck, without really apologizing, but making her understand that he didn't like her being mad at him, and she forgave him.

Not this time.

When he hugged her in the kitchen, asking her what she wanted to do today, Y/N didn’t move. She had no expression, acting like some kind of robot, responding that she didn't know. She didn't want anything.

Especially not with him.

This surprised him. Nathan Bateman wasn't used to being resisted. But he just shrugged as he finished his coffee to get ready for his morning boxing session, before going to his lab, thinking that she would be calmer afterwards.

"You're really acting like a child." he said during lunch, seeing that nothing had changed. “It’s children who sulk.”

“You sulk all the time.”

"That's not true. I get annoyed by the mediocrity and stupidity of others, which exhaust me mentally. The problem is that you're not stupid, otherwise you wouldn't be here, so I'm even more annoyed by your behavior.”

“You really don’t see what you did wrong.”

It was not a question. Of course Nathan didn't see what he had done wrong. He never did anything wrong.

It was already a great honor that she lived with him, slept with him, knew his plan, so Y/N should be flattered that he pretended to be nice to her so that she serves as a model for his great work.

There was absolutely nothing offensive.

“Alright, I’ll stop sulking.” Y/N declared, keeping her expression perfectly neutral.

“I hope so, it’s really not fun.”

He didn't seem to notice right away that she hadn't stopped sulking. She agreed to go for a walk with him, she let him kiss her, she answered his questions, but she did all this without showing the slightest emotion.

He finally seemed to realize it while they were in bed, and she was letting him do whatever he wanted.

"You're alright ?" he asked, and Y/N felt like there was concern in his voice, even if it sounded absurd.

"Yes. Good. Just tired."

“We can stop if you want.”

"I'm fine."

Without realizing it, but turning her head so he wouldn't see her, Y/N cried until he was done, and she stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night, thinking that maybe it was time for her to go.

She wasn't the first to mention the helicopter.

“If you want to leave, you just have to ask me.”

Nathan didn't turn towards her, his gaze turned towards the mountains. He didn't even give her time to close the living room door before saying this sentence.

"… Where did you get this idea ?"

"Don't act stupid. I already told you I didn't like it."

"I'm not sure what you like or don't like lately. You want me to leave ?"

This made him move, and Y/N saw something strange in Nathan’s eyes. Something she had never seen before, or ever so slightly, when he was drunk, or when he thought she couldn't see him because the lights were off.

Emotions.

Fear. Sadness. Suffering.

“Of course I don’t want you to leave.” he said with an equally strange voice. "As I don't want you to cry when I touch you. I want you to slap me and tell me to stop."

“You told me to stop acting like a child.”

“That's not the point !”

“Not the point ?!” Y/N said angrily as she approached, which seemed to scare him. "You pretended to be interested in me for your work ! You played the perfect boyfriend only to study my micro expressions and reproduce them on your machines. Do you think that makes me happy ? To know that you don't care ? It hurts you that I'm crying because of you ? But that's what I feel when you touch me now, when I see you, when I listen to you, because I know that I don't care ! I'm not important to you !”

She promised herself to stay calm. She had promised herself to continue playing the robot, telling him that she was leaving him, and that she wanted him to delete all the images he had of her.

But it was too hard, because despite all his faults, she loved the bastard, and she hated that he pretended to be sad that she was sad. He even dared to make the decision to leave for her.

"… I didn't pretend." he whispered, and he had never looked so vulnerable.

"Oh, shut up Nathan. You said it, I'm not stupid."

"Maybe I am, a bit, if you really mean everything you just said. I care about you. I love you. That's why I wanted you to be the model, and not anyone else. It allowed me to spend time with you, to make you happy, and yes to work too. One stone, two birds. I didn't understand why that upset you. I guess I missed an essential fact…"

“That you’re an ass.”

“Yes, that.”

This day was really strange, even stranger than when he started being nice. Nathan stopped looking at her, as if he no longer wanted her to see him like that, so human, and he started looking at the mountain again while scratching his skull.

It was almost perfect. However, there was one little thing missing.

“You didn’t say you were sorry.”

"I'm not sorry."

Y/N stared at him for a long time, thinking about the helicopter again. It was still tempting, despite the beautiful speech she had just heard.

"I mean…" he added, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, of course. I'm not sorry that I did it, I had good reasons, but I didn't mean to hurt you, and if you don't want me to do it again, I won't do it again.”

“What if I still want to leave ?”

“I would be heartbroken, masturbate to your videos, and cry like a kid in my bed for several months.”

“I thought you never acted like a kid.”

“I said I’m not sulking, it’s different.”

Nathan Bateman was such a jerk. But Y/N already knew that when she met him, and when she fell in love with him, and it was arguably the most romantic statement he had ever made, and was capable of making.

Rolling her eyes, she finished approaching him, taking him in her arms and kissing his neck. He got the message, returning her embrace without saying anything, kissing her forehead.

The argument was over.

"You didn't say if I can continue to use your…"

"No."

"All right." he sighed, with a small smile, not letting go of her to finish his coffee, do his boxing session and lock himself in his lab.

#ex machina #nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman imagine #nathan bateman fanfiction

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edupunkn00b · 28 days

Text

Meus ex Machina, Chapter 11: Hesper

Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.

Prev - Hesper - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Logan meets Hesper and he's only left with more questions. Everything has a beginning, though, and not even Abracadabra was what it is now.

“Kiddos are all in bed,” Patton sighed as he settled into the seat adjacent to Luc, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Janus opened his eyes in time to catch Luc’s faux scowl at Patton’s tousle.

“Gorgeous as always, mon cher,” he whispered, smoothing Luc’s auburn curls back into place. “Simply gorgeous.”

With a blush that rivaled his hair, Luc smiled but quickly sobered and blew on his tea. “You said you had news?”

Setting aside the little flash he caught from Patton, Janus nodded and straightened in his seat. He took Luc’s free hand as he shifted away from the comfortable home he’d made nestled against his side. “I do,” he began, working to keep the worst of his worries shielded from the other two.

And from the children’s drowsing minds.

Luc and Patton’s expressions told him he needed more practice. “What is it, Jan?” Patton asked, reaching for his other hand as Luc gripped his brother’s forearm. Together, they made a little triangle as the night sky darkened outside the big bay window. “Is it bad?”

“It’s… an opportunity,” Janus licked dry lips and painted on something like a smile. His scars pulled at one side of his face, hampering the intended encouraging effect. “I was contacted by the new mentalists department at Abracadabra.”

“The start-up? How—“

Janus’ eyes flicked down to his own wrist and his great-grandfather’s antique Casio, an anachronism even in that time.

“The ‘Foundation…’” Luc sucked his teeth and he closed his eyes, likely hiding his battle for control. After a moment, he calmed and met Janus’ eyes with a crooked smile. “What did those capos want from you?”

Janus sighed, a low near-growl. “They offered me a job.”

“Me, too,” Patton whispered, rubbing little circles against Luc’s arm. “This morning.”

“You both said ‘no,’ right?” Luc’s eyes were wide as he looked between them. His smile faded at Janus’ silence. “Love, tell me you said ‘no.’”

“I…” Janus slid closer to each of them. Patton only tightened his grip on Janus’ hand. “I believe this is an opportunity we can’t discount. We—“

“We need to stay as far from them as we fucking can!” Luc’s fingers tingled against his skin and he moved up to grip Janus’ sleeve. Safer that way. But he didn’t concede. “You think just because they’ve stopped hunting Powereds we’re suddenly safe?”

“No. I think we’re safer together. I think we’re safer integrated into society rather than maintaining this us vs. them mentality. Let us be a part of the shared solution. We have so much to contribute, we—“

“Oh, open a fucking history book!” Luc closed his eyes, orange flickering beneath his lashes. When he opened then again, his tone was softer. Just barely. “Love, they’ve just moved on to co-option. Sure, now they want to work with the ‘right kind’ of Powerds like you and Pat and—“

“Luc,” Janus warned, stroking his arm. An itch at the base of his spine told him they wouldn’t be alone for long.

But Luc either couldn’t—wouldn’t?—hear him. He released Janus’ arm and had begun counting on his fingers. “Step two is when they tell us it’s only the ‘risky’ Powerds they need to tamp down on. ‘Four legs good, two legs better,’ right?”

“Luc!” Janus said more forcefully, casting a quick glance at Patton.

Both of the elder Powerd’s hands now gripped Luc’s arm and he tugged gently, keeping him seated. “Lukie, maybe Jan’s right. Maybe we—“

“What, we should heel at the corporation’s side? Strap on our own muzzles so we can duck step together when they figure out their final solution is cull the herd of the dangerous Powerds like—“

“Like Re?” Low and quiet from the hallway, Virgil’s voice managed to cut through Luc’s rant.

Luc deflated, eyes glowing as he swallowed his next argument. “Yeah, Virge. Like Re, and maybe Ro, too. Anyone they think is dangerous and uncontrolled.” He frowned at Janus. “Or uncontrollable.”

“Dangerous?” Virgil asked, sliding into the room and sitting cross-legged on the coffee table between them. He jerked his chin at the pictures of Luc and Patton’s old orphanage. “Like you?”

“Now, Kiddo,” Patton began. “That fire wasn’t his—“

Luc cut him off with a sad smile and a little shoulder squeeze before turning to meet the teenager’s eyes. “Yeah, Virge, dangerous like me, too.”

Virgil’s memory of his truncated hospital stay flooded Janus’ mind, nurses sprawled on the floor, blood pooling from eyes and ears, soaking through their face masks.

“Yeah, I know it wasn’t his fault, Pops.” Virgil’s eyes were teary behind his floppy bangs as he turned to face Janus, hands shoved in his pockets. “What do these capos want you to do?”

“Tin Man, let’s go!” V called over his shoulder from the top of the stairs. Orange lights still glowed from the ceiling but at least the alarm had stopped.

Patton and Silvertongue had already run down to prep the transport and map their route. A low whine from the engines filtered up from below, a little shimmer to the air as dust kicked up from the lower landing pad.

Behind him, The Prince huffed, loudly, as Logan struggled to get situated in his suit.

Logan focused on breathing, ignoring the pounding behind his eyes and the ache in his arm. He briefly regretted not sleeping while he could, a regret that dissolved when he closed his eyes and The Muse’s shaky smile filled his vision.

Palm sweaty, his hand skid along the edge of the mech’s chest cavity but he caught himself, fingers wedged between the collar and chest plate. He pulled and pushed against the mech’s waist with his stronger stump, muscles trembling.

“Sorry,” he grunted. “Almost got—“

“Oh, come on!” The Prince snapped, physically hauling Logan higher and depositing him inside the mech. Logan swallowed back a curse and glared at the Powered.

“Don’t ever do that to me again!” he growled.

The Prince rolled his eyes and pushed him toward the stairs. “Or what? You’ll fuck things up?” He glanced down at the mech’s heavy durasteel boots. “‘Sorry,’” he muttered, anything but. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

Heat flooded Logan’s face and neck, hurt and rage warring just under his skin. “You son of a—“

“Princey! Mac! Now!” V’s beckoned from the stairwell, glaring at each of them in turn. “Or we’ll leave you both behind.”

The transport door clanged shut and they shot up into the sky and over the churning Atlantic. Logan didn’t know how much of his altercation with The Prince everyone else had heard, but save for a few quiet mutters between The Prince and Patton up at the controls, the team was silent. He felt the brush of Silvertongue’s questioning thoughts, a warm request, no, an invitation to share. Logan simply shook his head and concentrated on checking the mech’s systems.

Satisfied he was powered up and ready, he watched the screens at the front of the transport, following as they raced over greenish grey waters.

Before long, Patton banked right, aiming for a landing platform somewhere off the coast. Which coast, Logan had no idea. Before them stretched a sprawling city, bright lights casting a haze in the low clouds. Silver towers sparkled, rising up out of the jagged reefs of the drowned coastal city that had come before it.

“I can’t tell if he’s still there.” Patton broke the silence, pointing to a screen where flickering orange lights blipped at seemingly random spots.

“He’s here,” Silvertongue’s eyes were closed but his voice was clear. “Prince? Can you cover our approach?”

“Happily.” The Prince tapped a different screen and it resolved into a view of the landing platform. His eyes half-shut as he watched the dozen or so deck crew move between the ships. Without warning, they ducked low and drew up neon-striped hoods. As though fleeing from a sudden squall, they all sprinted toward the big building at the center of the platform.

All but one.

The last hold out shielded their eyes from some unseen attack and peered up at the sky. They staggered to the closest ship, a tool in their hand.

“Take her down quiet as you can, Popstar,” V murmured and moved closer to Logan, showing him a tablet. “Any idea what he’s doing, Mac?”

The image on V’s tablet followed their approach, zoomed in as far as it would go. V had set a split screen to infrared. The figure—Hesper?—wielded a gun-like tool, glowing orange under infrared, bright white sparking from the tip. This close, Logan could make out a welder’s face plate under his hood.

“Soldering something onto the hull?” Hesper moved a few feet, leaving behind a rapidly cooling palm-sized circle. He repeated his actions then jumped to the next ship in line. “A tracker, maybe?”

“Not an explosive?” V asked, frowning.

Logan watched the screen and shook his head. “It’s too cold. And he’s using quick cool-solder. Safer for microprocessors but not as strong.” He shrugged. “Explosive casings are heavier, thicker. He’d need to use standard epoxy or… magnets, maybe?”

After a long moment, V nodded. He slipped the tablet into his vest and opened his mouth as if to say more, but the transport shuddered under their feet. “Everyone ready?” Patton asked, hand hovering over a door panel.

The Prince nodded, eyes now closed as he moved to the doors, joining V and Silvertongue.

Logan lowered his own face shield and helmet. “Ready.”

Patton slapped the controls and the big door opened with a bang. Hesper didn’t even look up as they circled him, just pulled his hood lower over his head and shuddered.

Before Logan could ask what The Prince was doing to him, Silvertongue sent a single word, -“Now!”-

The Prince’s eyes shot open and Hesper spun around, the movement knocking back his hood to reveal form-fitting headgear.

He tapped the helmet, shaking his head. “Guess this wasn’t worth the price I paid for it if you could still get into my head so easily, dear Prince.” He tucked the soldering gun under his arm and then, finger by finger, peeled off his safety gloves. He left them where they fell and flexed his bared hands. “Glad to see you all came out to play. Well…”

Looking up at Logan, Hesper seemed to stare right through his face plate. “We know how it is. Too bad I have to take a rain check tonight.” He flipped on his solder gun and ran straight for Logan.

On his heels, Patton grabbed at Hesper’s jacket. He wormed out of it then dodged V’s attack. Overcompensating, Hesper slid and landed on his back, centimeters from the mech’s left leg.

Without thinking, Logan stepped up and down, foot pressed—slightly—on Hesper’s chest.

Patton hissed behind him but grew still, arms loose and ready at his sides. Immediate danger passed, V inspected the devices Hesper had fastened to the ship’s hull. He scanned each with the tablet’s sensors before prying off the closest and crushing it under his boot. “Basic trackers,” he said, nodding to Logan, and they all turned to Silvertongue.

“What is all this, Hesper?” he asked, eyes hooded. He didn’t look happy at what Logan had done, frowning in his direction. But he didn’t stop him, either, so Logan just waited, foot locked on Hesper’s chest.

“My, my, my… My dearest Tongue of Silver,” Hesper purred. Head tilted, he managed to look down at Silvertongue even from his sprawled position on the cracked peri-ment platform. “You’ve brought along an extra army of one this time.” He thunked his knuckles against the mech’s ankle servos. “All for me?”

A not-quite shadow flashed over Janus’ face, quick, nearly too quick for Logan to catch. Even with Silvertongue’s back to him, The Prince must’ve felt it, whatever it was, because he stepped closer, eyes boring into Hesper’s obscured face.

“Release him, Machina,” Janus instructed, gaze focused on Hesper. “He’s clean.”

Hesper leapt to his feet with an acrobat’s grace the moment Logan lifted the mech’s foot. “Why, thank you.” He bowed his head with a flourish and Logan watched his mech’s reflection shift and warp on Hesper’s shiny helmet.

With no way of knowing where Hesper was looking, Logan felt like it was everywhere at once.

For all his theatrics, Hesper now behaved as though they were nothing but a minor inconvenience, impolite visitors who crashed an open house. He hummed under his breath, easily picked up by his mic, and made a show of brushing off his synthcloth tactical pants and straightening an old vest that looked a lot like V’s. Sighing heavily, he produced a pristine white cloth and bent over to polish away a smudge from his boots.

Janus watched him with half-lidded eyes, hands flexing at his sides. “What are you up to now, Hesper?” He gestured around them, voice sharp. Acidic. “Why here?”

“And what makes you think I didn’t trigger your alarms so I could have a little company, hm?” He shrugged and carefully folded his handkerchief before secreting it away in a breast pocket. “You know… just like Re used to?”

“Wha—”

Before Logan could finish his blurted question, The Prince stomped forward, hands splayed in front of him, a glowing haze forming between his fingers. “Take my brother’s name from your mouth, fiend,” he growled, drawing close to Hesper. “Or I’ll rip it out with your tongue!”

But as The Prince moved, the air… flickered near his right foot. The mirage tugged at Logan’s mind the same way the faulty Pickerbot had back at the DC, the first time, before he’d found the flaw in its circuitry.

Remembering V’s concern about explosives, Logan flipped on his HUD infrared. Heat poured from the cracked peri-ment, far more heat than could be explained away by the underlying HVAC piping. The ground glowed in blinding purples and white, spiking well past 85° centigrade.

“Prince, look out!” he shouted and pushed his servos to a run.

Patton’s call to Logan cut off and he copied him instead, half-carrying, half-dragging V and Silvertongue away in the opposite direction.

The Prince swore as Logan slammed into him and knocked them both to the ground. Arms locked around him, he pulled The Prince with him into a roll. He stopped, propped onto the mech’s elbows, erecting a cage of durasteel limbs and torso around the Powered just as the floor exploded behind them.

Precisely where The Prince had stood a moment before.

“Are you—”

“I’m good, Tin Man. Let me up,” he muttered, shimmying his bulky shoulders out from Logan’s mech suit shield. -”Thanks,”- he said in Logan’s mind as he stood.

“Anytime,” Logan said aloud and followed him to Silvertongue’s side. Patton crouched a few feet behind him, inspecting V’s hand.

“Tell me!” Silvertongue was demanding, eyes molten gold. “Tell me how you did that without—”

“Without you poking around in here…” Hesper’s laugh was crusted in ice as he waggled his fingers around his head. “Ma cheri! L’amour de ma—”

“Tell me!” Janus’ shout reverberated through Logan’s skull. Even The Prince took a step backwards, head bowed and one hand pressed to his temple. Patton slid closer, nodding quietly to V and Logan watched them all, waiting for any sort of hint of what he had planned.

Hesper just laughed again. “There was no guilt to sense, my dear Silvertongue,” He shrugged. “Not from me at least.” Hesper gestured, almost bored, at the jagged, steaming hole in the landing pad, then at The Prince. “It was his anger, his rage that triggered the charge. I wasn’t sure it would work, but our dear Prince of Dreams always did have quite the temper.”

He fully faced The Prince then. “Ever since you were a little boy.”

Patton reached out and just rested one hand on The Prince’s shoulder. Given the recordings Logan had seen of Papa Bear wrestling an activated Muse into control, he had no doubt a light touch was all he needed to keep The Prince steady.

“Enough with the games, Hesper,” V said from Silvertongue’s other side. “No-one believes you dragged us out here in the middle of the night for a parlor trick.”

Hesper shrugged again, backing away toward the edge of the landing platform. “Worried I’m going to make it a habit of interrupting your beauty sleep?”

He stood on the ledge, one foot hovering behind him. “Besides,” he directed his attention to Logan again. “I know you weren’t all asleep.”

Face flushed beneath his mask, Logan’s fingers flexed against the controls but the suit remained still. Then Hesper stepped off the platform and onto a waiting airskiff.

“Ta ta, for now!” he laughed, voice amplified to carry over the roar of thrusters as he flew off into the smoggy night air.

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