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𝓢𝓪𝓭 𝓔𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you and jake enjoy having movie nights, but he has the habit of spoiling the endings for you. this time is different, though. pairing(s) ☽ jake lockley/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 1.9k a/n ☽ ⤏ my fifth entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. ⤏ this one derailed from me as well. I swear these guys have minds of their own. this ended up being a lot sappier than I intended, but...c'est la vie. I love one jake lockley. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY [TBA] ☽

“I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“Come on, querida. You should’ve had some idea that this would happen.”

“No, I absolutely did not!” You lifted your face from your hands, twisting to the side with your elbows still planted on your knees in order to glare up at your smirking fellow historical drama critic. “It’s not my fault that I don’t have a sixth sense for figuring out plot lines in the first ten minutes like you do!”

“Says the writer,” he chuckled, eyes glittering. “If it makes you feel any better, Steven wasn’t expecting it, either.”

That did, actually. You and Steven had long since developed the practice of conducting ongoing commentaries and speculations on the potential plotline based on the details revealed in whatever media you’d enjoy together—be it TV shows, movies, or books (print or audio)—whereas Jake was more the type to verbalize his predictions as they came to him, disregarding any suspension of disbelief. At least Marc only remarked on the glaring inaccuracies regarding combat, weapons, or injuries that Hollywood lauded for exaggerated effect.

On one hand, it used to drive you crazy—you preferred to experience things as they unfolded and let the story tell itself, following along for the ride…but, on the other hand, the knowing gleam in Jake’s eyes, the smug tilt of his close-lipped grin, and the way he’d start to pay more attention to you instead of the film (particularly with his hands—rubbing his palm over the line of your, at times, tense shoulders, grasping the nape of your neck and stroking the pad of his thumb along your hairline and under the shell of your ear, or petting your head like one would a beloved pet—about which you could never truly complain) eroded your exasperation over time. Now you almost looked forward to it—even if you still gave him a hard time about the inevitable spoilers involved.

Tonight, it would seem, however, that he’d decided to bide his time in order to see your unprepared reaction without dropping an obvious statement that would have indicated the plot twist to you ahead of time. For once, admittedly, you would’ve appreciated the warning.

“How could they say that about her?” you bemoaned, eyes returning to the screen with prolific lamentation. “She’s literally done nothing to them—she doesn’t even want to marry him, they didn’t have to drag her reputation through the mud!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, querida,” Jake chuckled, “it was visible from miles away.”

You huffed and turned away from him, refocusing your attention on the television screen. You watched the protagonist’s subsequent emotional breakdown with trepidation, frowning as she was scorned and criticized by the people that should have been her allies and had claimed to have been her friends. The only people that believed she was innocent in the matter were her sister and, fortunately, her love interest. He arrived late the next rainy night on a raven-black horse that shivered and bellowed mist from his nostrils as the man, drenched and pensive, dismounted to greet the distressed young woman at the door of her family’s home.

“Hey,” Jake murmured, nudging your side with his elbow. “It’ll turn out fine.”

You glanced up at him, relaxing slightly. You’d been teased in the past by several people for being so emotionally invested in fictional characters and their plight—your ex included—and while you weren’t ashamed of the fact you had the ability to extend so much empathy (even in hypothetical situations), you were sensitive to what others might think. Steven didn’t mind—he was much the same as you, honestly, and that was such a relief. Marc didn’t seem to mind one way or the other, thankfully. But Jake was a notorious tease and found a lot of joy in flustering you, and you were still getting used to gauging his personality since you hadn’t known him as long as the other two—so that he wasn’t poking fun at you about this was a monumental relief.

“I know,” you breathed, sinking into his side. He coiled his arm around your shoulders in response. “He’ll save the day with his money and marry her silly. These things never have sad endings.”

Jake hummed and drummed his fingertips on your upper arm. “It’s a good thing. Wouldn’t want you to be sad, chaparrita. Might have to pay that studio a stern visit otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart squeezed at the sentiment—as aggressive as it was. There was one thing that you had learned for certain since meeting him: Jake showed his love through protectiveness as opposed to the gentler means of the other two men. You’d never want him to hurt someone for you, necessarily (unless they deserved it, of course), but the thought that he would be willing to go up to bat for you, that he had your back no matter what, was far more reassuring than you had ever expected it to be. (Something, something, scary guard dog privileges.)

“Some movies need them, though,” you pointed out. “Sometimes that’s the whole point of the story—something out of the characters’ control happens, and they have to decide how they’ll react. Other times it’s pointless, serves no greater purpose to enhance the plot.”

“Shit happens in real life for no reason, though,” Jake pointed out, voice low as the music onscreen swelled. The love interest was embracing the weeping protagonist, having informed her that he had, in fact, solved the issue. “Sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it.”

You nodded, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “Some people are fortunate enough to have happy endings, though,” you murmured. “It’s a dangerous thing to claim, because things could always go wrong, but…” You swallowed, tucking your nose under the lapel of his shirt. “...I’m glad I met you guys. It was worth everything I’ve gone through.”

Jake stilled, falling silent. You had also learned that such intimate proclamations tended to throw him for a loop—he was not accustomed to revealing his inner emotions, since he’d repressed them (and himself) for so long. He was getting better at communicating in general, thanks to Steven’s long-suffering patience and gentle coaxing, but you could tell anything ‘mushy’ made him slightly uncomfortable. (Having noticed this, you’d asked him early on if he wanted you to slow down on giving him affection—but he’d visibly recoiled at that suggestion, more demanding than asking you not to stop. You could only really speculate since he didn’t talk about it much, but you knew that if you were in his position, even if such attention was new, you’d be famished for it. You’d decided he was just embracing his adjustment period instead of avoiding it, like Marc had tended to do at first.)

He shifted, angling his body closer to yours, and tucked the end of his nose behind the shell of your ear. “...We’re glad we met you, too, querida,” he finally murmured, his free hand slipping down to curl around the knob of your knee. He pressed his face into your neck, and you wondered if he could feel your pounding pulse against his lips. “You’ve done us a whole lot of good.”

Chest tightening, you focused resolutely on the television despite the warring urge to arm him up and press a litany of kisses all over his face and head—any affection he felt comfortable doling out was precious indeed, and you would grant him the privacy of tucking himself out of sight, even if it was under your chin. Marc struggled the most with letting himself be seen as any semblance of vulnerable—and while Jake was more inclined and apt to it, he was still learning to trust you in particular, so allow himself to lower his guard and be himself with you (while, simultaneously, discovering and determining exactly who he was).

To receive a compliment of such caliber from Jake, though, was the highest bestowment of honor anyone could receive. He was picky, you’d learned, extremely so—especially regarding people with whom he associated. He had high standards, given the fact that his top priority had always been protecting the system first and foremost. Allowing anyone with dangerous intentions close enough to potentially hurt them was simply unacceptable, and thus he kept most everyone at arm’s length. That was why he’d acted in such a way towards you when he’d been forced to intervene for Marc’s sake, leading to your first ‘official’ meeting—he never gave anyone the benefit of a doubt until they proved themselves worthy of his extremely loyal regard (and his protection).

“I’m glad,” you responded softly. “I always try my best.”

“It’s all we could ever have asked for.”

You caved, but just slightly. You tilted your head down to press a lingering kiss to the crown of his head, nestling your nose into the neatly combed curls and inhaling the complimentary scents of their shampoo and hair gel. You curled an arm around his back and rubbed your palm in a series of circles between his shoulder blades, forgoing the movie for the sensation of his breath hitching against your throat.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For letting me have my happy ending.”

He swallowed roughly, and when his muscles went rigid you almost expected one of the others to surface—Jake had a habit of retreating when emotions got to be too much for him, which you’d never taken offense to (only had ever worried, but it wasn’t usually very long before he slipped back into the driver’s seat to reassure you by diverting the topic to let you know he was okay)—but instead of Steven’s falsetto lilt or Marc’s flat baritone emerging to notify you of the switch, Jake’s rumbling rasp vibrated your skin via his scruffy lips brushing your artery. “It’s I who should be thanking you, chaparrita, for not running for the hills when you had the chance. You’ve…been there for them when I couldn’t be. And you didn’t…you stuck around for me.” He cleared his throat quietly. “Gracias.”

“De nada,” you returned, kissing his head again and reaching up to play with the errant locks at the nape of his neck. “Eres precioso a mi.”

He let out a breathless, if slightly wet, chuckle, and snuggled in closer. You counted it precious. You counted them precious.

“Tengo hambre,” you commented after a while, sensing he might like to have an out. “¿Qué tenemos qué podemos comer?”

Jake retracted, but it was slow and borderline reluctant, if you didn’t know any better. “Let’s order something, chaparrita. I don’t feel like futzing around in the kitchen this late.”

You smiled and reached for your phone. “Sounds good to me. Asian or…?”

“Thai.” To your surprise, Jake tugged at your arms as he reclined, coaxing you to recline on top of him, your back to his chest. He wrapped you up in an unyielding, tight embrace, smothering his face into your neck once more to mumble against your ear. “Those glass noodles Marc’s gotten before are good. With the chicken.”

You tried your best to bite back your smile, but you couldn’t help the heat building beneath your cheeks. You raised your phone over your face to pull up the corresponding delivery app. “Anything for you, handsome. Anything for you.”

#don’t know who needed this more #me or jake #moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 2 hours

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You Already Said Yes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: mostly fluff

Summary: Spencer comes home to find your wedding ring on his office desk, and his thoughts run wild.

Square Filled: sharing clothes (2022) for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Keep reading

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 2 hours

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my love🖤 28 or 87 with matt murdock? 🥺

not so far away at all

pairing: matt murdock x reader (gn pronouns)

rating: gen

word count: 1,370

prompts from this list: #28: “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” - “Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.” and #87: “That’s my ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.” - “Well, kiss me so they see.”

one-sentence synopsis: you decide to surprise matt and foggy by bringing them dinner when they're working late, but what you overhear them discussing is far more of a surprise to you than anything else.

You thought you would surprise Matt at work.

He messaged you earlier to let you know he was going to be staying late at the office with Foggy, the two of them working overtime on a case that was particularly frustrating to the both of them, as well as particularly close to their hearts. When it comes to cases like these, you know they won’t rest— not properly, anyways— until it’s all done.

That means, of course, that you won’t have Matt properly home with you until it’s all done, either. You can only hope that’ll be sooner rather than later. Of course, you understand, and you often even feel the same, but, still. You can’t help but want more of Matt’s time.

If you had your way, after all, the two of you would spend all your time together. That’s unreasonable in reality, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting it all the same.

You’d picked up dinner for yourself, as well as for Matt and Foggy, after your own shift at work today. Now, you’re on your way to their law office, hurrying to make sure the food keeps warm until you get there.

In your rush, you’re not properly paying attention to your surroundings as you speed up to their floor. you’re half-listening to the sounds around you, only realizing that you’re hearing Matt’s and Foggy’s voices conversing with one another. You slow the closer you get to their door, curious to hear if they’re speaking with a client or if they’re alone and you can come inside.

As you pause near the door, you realize they must be alone. Their two voices are the only ones you can hear, and they’re speaking lowly with one another.

“—on’t mean to keep you all the time,” Foggy says. “I know you’ve got a life, dude.”

“You’re not the one keeping me,” Matt replies. “And you have a life, too.” There’s a soft noise; you think Matt maybe clapped Foggy on the shoulder. “(Y/N) understands. I’ll bring them dinner tonight to make up for it.”

You can’t help smiling to yourself. Great minds think alike, you think, delighted in the shared thought you had for each other. You’re just reaching for the doorknob to tell him exactly that when Matt begins speaking again.

“I should probably get something good,” he says. His voice is softer, more considering, his words spoken almost to himself.

Foggy laughs. “Yeah, you better.” There’s a long beat, then Foggy says, “So.”

“So,” Matt replies. You can hear the smile in his voice, even from here. You wonder if Matt knows you’re out here; you know how good his hearing is, that he can hear the heartbeats of people he knows and has gotten used to from a significant distance away. You even suspect that he can hear your heartbeat from a great distance, though you haven’t asked him about it yet.

“You’re going to lock this shit down, right?” Foggy says, laughing. It draws a laugh up out of Matt, too, though there’s a gravity to his lightness. You can tell he’s thinking seriously about this. “Because, if I were you, I would’ve done it, like, yesterday. I would’ve done it yesterday’s yesterday.”

“I’m going to,” Matt tells him. Foggy makes an incredulous noise. “I am. I will.”

“When?” Foggy asks. Your heart is in your throat. You’re pretty sure you know exactly what they’re talking about, and you can hardly breathe just thinking about it, let alone hearing them talk about it.

“Soon,” Matt replies.

“Okay, sure,” Foggy says.

“No, I mean it,” Matt argues. “I do. I actually— I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to help me. Since, you know, I want to pick something for the ring that’s perfect, and you can see and I—”

This is too much. You know you’re not supposed to be hearing this, and your heart is hammering up into your throat listening to it. You finally knock sharply on the door before pushing your way inside.

“Hey there,” you say, trying to keep yourself sounding normal. You can tell by the way Matt and Foggy both snap around to look at you that they hadn’t heard you coming. Sometimes, Matt can get so focused on a conversation or on one specific thing happening that he tunes out everything else. He must have been so intensely focused on his conversation with Foggy that he wasn’t paying attention to anything else— which makes your heart surge, thinking about how consumed he was by thoughts of you.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Foggy exclaims, recovering slightly more quickly than Matt does. “What’s up, what’re you doing here? Everything alright?”

You hold up your bags of takeout and rattle them a little, making the plastic crinkle. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Please tell me you brought enough for me, too,” Foggy says, and you roll your eyes.

“No, I’m just going to completely ignore you,” you joke with him. He comes to you, taking one of the bags from you as Matt stands and takes the other with his unerring accuracy.

You can tell just by the way Matt is hovering near you that he’s more than slightly anxious. You decide to directly address the elephant in the room, saying, “So. You’re going to lock this shit down, right?” in a goofy impression of Foggy’s voice. Matt’s face starts to go red almost immediately while Foggy groans out loud.

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—” he starts to apologize, but Matt shakes his head.

“No, I should’ve been paying attention,” he says.

“No shit,” Foggy agrees. He whacks Matt on the shoulder, grinning. “What happened to that super sonar, Batman?”

“Shut up,” Matt says, though he’s smiling, too. To you, Matt says, face as warm as his voice, “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be saying it, then,” you tease him. “If you don’t mean it.”

“No,” Matt hurries to say. “No, I meant it. I mean it.” He sets the bag of takeout down on the table so he can face you more fully. Taking your hand, he lets his fingertips drift up to your wrist. He seeks out your pulse, feels your heart throbbing, lifeblood coursing just beneath his touch. “I just— I want you to be surprised. And excited.”

“Oh, I will be,” you tell him, your stomach practically dropping out. “Even if you told me a minute before doing it, I’ll still be losing my mind.”

Matt’s smile looks just as giddy as you feel inside. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. You stretch up to kiss him, pressing the first kiss to the corner of his mouth before landing dead center next time, spreading him into a deeper kiss. After a moment, Foggy clears his throat.

“Oh, sorry,” Matt says to you, grinning. “Have you met Foggy?”

“Ha-ha,” Foggy faux-laughs dryly.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just an ex,” Matt says. You roll your eyes, glancing towards Foggy with a grin.

“Well, make sure you kiss me so he sees, then,” you tell him. Foggy sticks his tongue out at you as Matt tugs you in for another kiss, pressing one to your cheek, then down your jaw to your chin, and up to your mouth. You laugh, delighted, twisting to kiss him properly, throwing your arms around his neck.

“Don’t mind me,” Foggy says, loud and pointed, obvious joy in his tone at seeing his friends so happy.

If you weren’t so hungry, you probably would’ve spent a few more minutes kissing Matt, just to enjoy soaking up his presence. As it is, Matt must hear your stomach growl, because he separates you only a moment afterwards and says, “What’d you bring?”

“You tell me,” you tease. “I bet you can smell every ingredient better than I could tell them to you.”

He inhales, then says, “It’s takeout,” so seriously that Foggy inhales on his drink, choking on a laugh. You swat Matt on the shoulder.

“Just for that,” you say, “I get yours,” and try to run to the table before he can catch you around the waist and stop you. You fail, but really, you know you’ve succeeded.

requests are open!

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 2 hours

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Okay, but Adrian going b a l l i s t i c when he comes home after work or a mission, and you aren’t there?? So he texts you—calls your phone—but you don’t reply and your phone rings until it ends with your voicemail message—Every. Single. Time. He. Tries. To. Call. You?? I can’t tell if I want it to be a harmless mistake, like maybe your phone ran out of battery while running some errands, or if I want it to be angsty with you having been kidnapped… dealer’s choice (if you’re down to write if, of course—totes up to you, babes).

answer the call

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns)

rating: t

word count: 1,849

one-sentence synopsis: when adrian gets home and you aren't there, he can't assume the worst, because if the worst has happened, then he thinks he might lose his fucking mind.

author's note: i wrote this on my phone real quick after watching the suicide squad tonight because my heart was full and i had to write something!!! even if it's short!!!!!! i hope you enjoy this!!!!!!!!

read on ao3!

Adrian throws open the front door, calls, "Honey, I'm home," hooks his keys on the wall rack, and turns to greet—

—Nobody.

The apartment is dark. You're always home before him; you always leave the front hall light on for him, even if you step out for a minute. And he's sure he saw your car outside, so you should be here.

He thinks, Maybe they had a bad day. Maybe they already went to bed or something. It would be out of the ordinary, but his first thought isn't that something bad has happened to you. He spends way too much time trying to stop bad things from happening in your general vicinity to spend any excess time focused on the issue.

It's not until he kicks the front door shut and starts to walk further into the apartment that it truly starts dawning on him that something is wrong.

There are no lights on anywhere, nor are any doors closed. The place looks almost exactly like you'd both left it this morning.

Adrian flips on the light in the kitchen, starts to say, "Hello—" but then he notices something. Your bag is on the kitchen counter, like you'd put it down once you got home and then went to get something to eat, maybe.

He tracks closer to the bag, and it's there he sees it: there's a few drops of blood on the floor.

His heart is immediately in his throat. His phone is in his hand before he can even think, hitting your number in his speed dial. The phone rings, and rings, and rings, and then goes to voicemail.

When he hears your voice, his fingers clench around his phone, knuckles going white. He says, "Call me as soon as you get this. I love you," before hanging up and immediately calling again, but the same thing happens. In a panic, he digs through your bag, but there's nothing useful here. Your phone, your wallet, your keys: all of them are gone. It's just odds and ends left behind.

Adrian puts his phone on speaker and keeps calling you, even though it keeps going through to your voicemail. Every time he calls and you don't pick up, he gets a little more terrified, a little more sure something horrible has happened. He puts the phone on his side table in your bedroom and keeps calling, and calling, and calling, even as he rushes through yanking on his Vigilante uniform and getting his gear together.

He's called you over a hundred times by the time he's dressed and ready. The next number he dials isn't yours again, but Peacemaker's.

"Dude, it's midnight," Chris complains. Adrian's just grateful he picked up the phone, because he doesn't always. "What i—"

"(Y/N) is missing," Adrian says, shoving knives into each of the pouches and holsters and sheaths on his utility belt. "I came home and they're just— They're not here, they're missing, there's blood in the kitchen and they're not answering their phone and their car is here—"

"Whoa, okay, wait, holy shit, slow down," Chris says. "When did you last see them?"

"This morning," Adrian answers.

This morning, when you'd made him breakfast and he'd eaten in a hurry before kissing you goodbye and running out the door. He'd wanted to stop by Chris' place before work, and he'd been a little late for when he said he'd be there.

Now, his throat burns, and he thinks, I should've stayed home, I should've skipped everything today, I should've known— even though there was no way to know. He can't stop blaming himself.

"Fuck," Chris agrees. "Okay, shit. Fuck. I'll call Harcourt, we'll be right there."

Adrian can hardly stand just waiting around in the apartment for them to show up. He forces himself to be as productive as he can be, searching the entire place, turning it inside-out trying to find clues as to who might have taken you and why. By the time Chris shows up— not only with Emilia, but with John and Leota in tow, as well— Adrian is beside himself, the entire apartment has been torn apart, and he's no closer to figuring out who has you or why.

When they first come inside, it just looks like a mess. It's a shitshow. It looks like a hurricane hit the inside of the apartment, and Adrian's standing in the middle of it, in full Vigilante armor, nearly apoplectic by this point.

It's Leota who goes to Adrian first. She gets it; she gets why he's losing his mind like this. She knows how she'd feel if it was her wife.

"We're going to find them," she promises him. When he shakes his head, she insists, "We will. I promise you that. We're not going to stop until we do."

Adrian can only nod weakly, accepting the brief embrace Leota tugs him into before Chris and Emilia insist on being walked through what happened.

It takes a couple of days to find you.

With every hour that passes without you, Adrian loses more and more of his mind. By the time they have any sort of lead, he's gone completely ballistic. He barely sleeps, barely eats, except when prompted to do so by somebody else. He spends most of his time talking to nobody— or to whoever is there, or to himself, or to you, as if you're there.

When they find you— captured, kidnapped, taken by some fringe organization because of your involvement with the 11th Street Kids— it's John who figures it out first. He goes to Adrian, shows him the feed he's been able to hack into that shows you, chained to a chair in the center of a harsh, white room. You've got blood spattered across your face; you look barely conscious, head lolling forward. Adrian's so enraged he nearly blacks out.

He demands he go to you right away. He can't take another second without you, can't spend another goddamn fucking minute knowing you're not with him— knowing that you're being hurt. Knowing that you're being hurt because of him. It's almost more than he can take.

The other 11th Street Kids agree that there's no point in wasting time, and they all pack up to head out immediately. Adrian might not have taken care of himself these last few days, but the other members of the team haven't been doing so hot, either. You mean a lot to them; they've been working tirelessly to try and get you back.

And God fucking help anyone who stands in Adrian's path. He feels incoherent, a machine made for killing. Usually, he's able to summon a lot of good humor and enjoyment out of annihilating an entire facility's worth of people, but all he gets out of this is a sick satisfaction. The people who hurt you are paying; that's all this is. It's impossible to get real joy out of it when he knows the reason he has to do it at all is because you've been hurt.

There's not a person left alive and intact by the time Adrian is done with them. He doesn't hesitate; he doesn't listen; he doesn't care. If they had even a small part to play in your capture and imprisonment and torture here, he wants them dead. If they so much as glanced at you and didn't release you from your cell, they lose their life to him. It's an absolute bloodbath.

By the time he reaches you, everybody else is dead except him, you, and the rest of the 11th Street Kids.

You're afraid, at first, when he comes in. Your automatic response to hearing the door to your stark white cell opening is to hang your head and squeeze your eyes shut; you curl up into yourself as much as you can while chained to the chair, your fingers even twisting up into white-knuckled claws around the arms of the chair.

You're sucking in ragged breaths, lank hair hanging in your face. Your clothes aren't yours, scrubs that have been given to you and then dirtied and shredded, stained with blood and grime. He can see marks littering your skin, bruises and cuts and he can't fucking see.

Death was too good for everyone he just killed. He almost regrets it; he should've kept them all alive and tortured them all, slowly, for the rest of his life, for doing this to you. You enduring even one second of this earned them eternal damnation in his eyes. There's no question in his mind about that.

"Hey," he says, and your head snaps up. Your eyes meet his, wild, hopeful that this really is him.

You exhale shakily. You ask, "Adrian? Is—" and then blink, tears spilling over, and he can't stay still anymore.

"I'm here, it's me," he says, and starts reassuring you in a rush as he comes over to you and quickly slashes your bindings apart. He cups your face in his hands, says, "I've got you now, okay? We've got you, nothing's going to happen to you. I'm going to bring you right home, alright? We're going home now," and you just fall apart.

He examines you quickly before taking you up into his arms. He's spattered with gore from his massacre through the facility to get to you, but neither of you care; you're just so happy to be together again.

He's still carrying you in his arms when he meets with the rest of the 11th Street Kids, heading straight for the van, demanding that they follow. He doesn't break pace, doesn't stop, doesn't hesitate.

"I've got you," he keeps saying, like he's reminding the both of you of how true that is. Like he's trying to imprint the knowledge that you're no longer gone into his very being.

"I know," you tell him.

Your voice. When he kept calling you, and calling you, and calling you, all he kept getting was your voicemail. He kept thinking he'd give anything just to hear you answer— to hear you talk to him at least one more time. And here you are now, alive, and he gets everything he wants. He gets you.

"I love you," you tell him, and he could fall apart for hearing it. You both need sleep fucking immediately, and food, and rest, and medical attention. He feels like he's not himself, like he's become a creature focused solely on you. He doesn't like that about himself; he wants to be the person you love, but he doesn't realize— this is the person you love. The goofball, and the loving partner, and the killing machine, all of it. Everything that makes him him, you love, no matter how fucked up it is.

"I love you," he says, choked. "Oh, fuck, I really fucking love you."

He clutches you close in the back of the bumping van, refuses to let you go, listening only to your voice and your breathing and the cadence of your heart to remind himself that this will be okay.

adrian chase taglist:

@violetrainbow412-blog @bigassbisaster @amysuemc @sunflowerfive @papitas-con-sal @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @violinchick @r3tr0sp3ct @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @x-milf-hunter-x @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @jaysfav @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @pieriinova @ohmybubbletea

#adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #vigilante x reader #peacemaker

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 2 hours

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Send me a kiss prompt!

Anything for you my dear @blueeyesatnight

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Note: I'm pretty sure this one is gender neutral, but if you notice something that is not, please let me know! I will adjust accordingly.

Warnings: Nathan and Reader are both drinking, but not drunk; Shenanigans™

"Another round?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea—"

"Two more tequila shots here!" Nathan spoke over you, raising a hand to flag down the bartender.

"Are you kidding me?" You laughed. It was a wonder that the bartender was able to hear Nathan over the bustle of the busy bar. Maybe he'd been making sure to pay extra attention to you and Nathan, considering how famously deep Nathan's pockets were.

"Ugh, I'm going to be so hungover tomorrow," You grumbled.

"You'll be fine."

You smiled, shaking your head.

"Do me a favor?" You requested.

"What."

"When he comes over with our shots, ask him for water."

"Ask him yourself."

"If you're going to go out of the way to order me a shot that I don't want, the least you can do is order me something that I do want."

"Alright, alright," Nathan grumbled. "Spoiled little brat—Thank you," Nathan leaned against the bar as the bartender arrived with the requested shots. "Could we get some more water, too? Thanks."

Nathan didn't wait for the bartender to answer, just leaned back and took one of the shots up with one hand, waving for you to follow suit with the other. You shook your head, knocking the bottom of the shot glass against the bar before throwing the shot back. You winced, lips drawing down into a frown at the taste, grumbling, "Christ," As it touched down and burned in your stomach.

You frowned as you heard your name called. You glanced toward Nathan, wincing.

"That wasn't you, was it."

"No," He chuckled, looking around, "You recognize the voice?"

"Vaguely?"

You glanced around before you spotted a familiar man pushing his way through the crush of the bar patrons.

"Fuck," You groaned.

"Who is that?"

"Guy I went on a date with. Well—A few dates with...Well—"

"Well, what?"

"We fucked for a few months, nothing serious."

"Then why's he coming over?"

"I may or may not have blocked his number."

"Smooth."

"Here," You slid a foot out, hooking your foot in the bar of his stool and tugging him a little closer, "Don't look at him, look at me."

"I am looking at you."

"Keep doing that, then."

"What's the plan?"

"The plan is to do whatever the fuck gets him to go away."

"How far are you willing to go?"

"I draw the line at murder."

"I suppose that gives us a little bit of wiggle room."

You reached out, intending to pinch Nathan's arm, but he caught hold of your hand. Your stomach flipped at the warm, steady contact, and the weight of Nathan's gaze. He'd looked at you before, sure, but this felt different. You'd seen looks like it given to flirty hangers-on at BlueBook events, but had never imagined it pointed in your direction. You swallowed thickly as Nathan hooked is leg in your stool in turn, tugging you even closer. You stomach flipped as it threw the balance, nearly sending you tumbling into Nathan's chest, and you shrieked, raising your hand and bracing yourself on Nathan's shoulder.

"Holy shit, you could've at least warned me!" You laughed, "Christ!"

"...You said anything that gets him to go away."

"Yes, I did."

Nathan raised his other hand, cupping your cheek. Your breath caught in your throat as he swept his thumb across your cheekbone, murmuring,

"So?"

"...So?" You mumbled. Before you could draw away—before you could even think to ask what his plan was—Nathan leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes blinked slowly, keeping your gaze set on him before your eyes just...Slipped closed. You sighed softly, tipping your head to the side, deepening the kiss. You pulled in a soft breath as you felt the slick, hot swipe of his tongue against the seam of your lips.

You parted your lips just a little, unable to stopper your whimper as he swept his tongue against yours without a pause. You managed to break the kiss, biting your lip as Nathan's hand crept around to rest against your nape.

"Do you, um..." You cleared your throat. "Do you still see him?"

The tip of Nathan's nose brushed against yours as he shook his head.

"I don't see anyone else in here."

#damn that was hot #and smooth #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 3 hours

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Nathan Bateman- Assembly Required

Summary: Nathan Bateman is maybe the smartest man in the world. But that doesn’t mean he has the common sense that god gave a can of green beans.

Content: Language, fluff, gn!reader (~1.1k) From Rally: I don’t know how this ended up with no smut. I surprised myself.

-------------

Crash

“Fuuuuuuck.”

Bang

“Fucking cunt.”

The third crash makes you push back from your desk and head out into the hallway to look for Nathan. You hear something metal slam into concrete and you almost hit the panic button on the wall. But then a wrench and a hammer fly out of the door at the end of the hallway. It’s used mostly for storage, but there’s a light coming out of the open door.

“There’s something wrong with this thing you ordered,” Nathan yells from the storage room, and at the top of his lungs.

“I’m coming,” you say loudly. “Don’t throw anything. I’m not sure a life flight would come all the way out here if you threw a screwdriver into my head.”

“All the robots have medical programming,” he says, like that’s the point.

Nathan is sitting on the floor in bare feet, his workout clothes still on. He’s rubbing his hands over his face and beard. He’s surrounded by flat, white, pieces of wood. Screws everywhere. A toolbox, half-empty from his temper tantrum. Not a robot in sight.

You lean on the doorway. “What is all of this?”

He gives you a killing look, points to a big box on the far wall.

Okay. Now you understand. A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. You clap your hand over your mouth.

Nathan sits up straight. “You fucking laugh and I’m making you go on a 20 mile hike with me. I’m serious.”

You press your lips together and nod. “Mmm-hmm.”

He picks up a tiny allen wrench and twirls it in his fingers. “This is your goddamned fault. I’m a fucking genius and you know it,” he says bitterly. “This shit is a waste of my time.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you say, not trusting yourself with words. You go over to the cardboard box and look inside. You reach into the empty box and pull out the one sheet of paper. It doesn’t even have words, just pictures. A step-by-step guide to putting together an Ikea bookshelf.

“I don’t need that,” Nathan says darkly.

You show him the sheet as you walk back to him. “Look, the little guy’s smiling and everything.”

He snatches it out of your hand. “I’ll take that and wipe my ass with it tomorrow morning.”

“Drama queen,” you say in a sing-song voice.

“I’m going to bend you over this fucking bookshelf, sweetheart, and you’ll sing whatever song I tell you,” he says with a mocking smile.

“I don’t think you will, Bateman. It would probably collapse before you even got my pants around my ankles.”

His smile disappears. He looks around at the mess he’s sitting in. He pushes up his glasses. “If we throw out all the fucking books you brought, then we don’t need a new Nardfall or Fjorddick or whatever stupid-ass name they give this shit.”

You sit down on the ground next to him, pushing aside random fasteners and now-chipped painted shelves. “Just let me do it,” you say.

He lays a hand on your thigh. “Sweetie, do you know what I told MIT when they denied me admission because I scared the interviewers with my theories on the singularity?”

“Weren’t you like, 12 years old then?”

“I told them: I don’t need you. I’ll do it myself. And I founded Blue Book before I was 20. So fuck MIT and fuck you.”

He picks up a shelf and starts, very randomly, trying to line it up with other pieces.

“Didn’t you go to MIT?”

“Yeah, I made them beg me to attend.” He snaps his hand back from the wood, then hurls it across the room. It crashes into the concrete and splits in half. “I jammed my fucking finger. Damn it. Do you know the things these hands do? I need a drink.”

“Okay, no more shelf,” you say. You pick up his hand and look at the reddened tip of his index finger.

“I build artificial intelligence,” Nathan explains to you. “Right down the hall.”

“I know,” you say soothingly. “I don’t think you did much damage. Looks like it hurts, though.”

You pop his finger in your mouth and gently feel the tip with your tongue.

His eyes widen, pupils dilating. His mouth drops open slightly as you start sucking.

You release his finger from your mouth and kiss the tip. “Had to get your mind off the pain. Is that not in your robots’ medical training?”

“They’d just give me ibuprofen I think. Might have to program your method in.” He stands up, pulling you with him, seemingly done with the entire project.

He kicks pieces out of the way as you both leave the room.

“I think you almost had it,” you say.

Nathan looks at you with narrowed eyes. “Lie to me again, and I’m making a paddle out of that wood. Spank your ass raw with it.”

You roll your eyes. You stop him at the doorway and take his shoulders to turn him back around. “Look, see the way you arranged the pieces? That’s basically how it goes together. You were just too close to see it.”

He turns his head one way, then the other. He slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you away and into the hall. “You did that. I might not be able to build a piece of crap bookshelf, but I have eyes.”

You didn’t think he’d noticed. He has more of a sense of humor about his ego than you’d thought he would, but it doesn’t mean he wants to be placated. You try sometimes, though. Just to see if it would make him feel better. But honesty always seems to work best.

He takes the instructions from where he’d shoved them in the back of his shorts and crumples it up. He tosses it at one of the robots as they walk by.

“Go do this,” Nathan says dismissively. He puts his hands on your hips, spinning you to face the robot as it walks away.

He leans in close to your ear, nipping it playfully. “I built that. Without an instruction manual.”

You kiss him on the mouth, and he shrugs you off, grumpy. But he leans into your second kiss, almost smiling.

There has never been anyone as genius as Nathan. And you love him for it. And he loves you.

You wonder how long it will take him to figure out that you were fucking around. You’d had a bookcase shipped weeks ago with the rest of your stuff, and had taken a few extra pieces and slipped them into the box Nathan had sent to the house. You thought he would've seen through it in a heartbeat. But no.

He was weirdly gullible in some ways.

All that problem-solving, all that logic. But blind to his one weakness. You.

**masterlist**

#ikea is no joke #i have to watch youtube videos on my furniture #nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #ex machina

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 3 hours

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heyy <3

I’ve had this idea about a soft!Nathan Bateman fic and I realized you’re just the right person for it.

On tiktok I’ve seen these videos about this pet watching robot called "ebo" (that most couples have been using to annoy each other)

link

maybe the reader isn't at home but Nathan's busy tinkering away in his office and they pester him with the ebo. Or it's one of Nathan's new projects he's testing and the reader just finds it so humorous. Whatever direction you wanna go in🫶🏾

Ahhhh thank you so much for this ask! ❤️ Oh my goodness, I had such a lovely time writing this! ❤️

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I can only write soft Nathan because I’m a big softie and am WEAK for this man.

Ebo

Nathan Bateman X GN!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged? | request info

Warnings: Typos! Railroad sentences! Soft!Nathan being a big old lovey dovey softie! Please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 983

_______________________________________

“Hey, hey, Nathan, hey,” you purposefully move the ebo into his ankle when he doesn’t look down straight away. “Bateman, hey, hey, hey.”

He tuts and looks down, unimpressed. “Can I help you?” He’s hunched over his desk, sitting at what should be the most uncomfortable angle possible as he types.

“You haven’t eaten in: six hours.” You put on your very best robot voice.

“I’ve eaten.”

You tut. “You’re a bad liar.”

“That’s not fair, I’m a great liar.” Nathan picks up the little ebo robot and the live camera feed on your screen goes all wobbly for a second. He carefully puts it on the desk next to him and carries on working.

You snort and make the robot spin in tight little circles. “You need to eat, you know.”

Nathan sighs dramatically before looking at you, and you can’t help but laugh at his expression.

“I never should have got you this, you know.”

You fake outrage. “What could you possibly mean?

He scowls and then to your absolute amusement pokes his tongue out at you before continuing to type.

A small smile spreads on his face as he hears you laugh through the ebo.

Over your time together he’s grown a lot more playful, far more willing to do silly things just to amuse you, your happiness being the highest award he could get.

You let him work for a few minutes (and actually do some typing yourself) before you start up again.

“Nathan Bateman, I have detected an error in your system.” You speak in the over the top robotic voice again, while gently ramming the ebo into his arm. “Your energy levels are: looooow. Please ingest sustenance immediately. Or you will: Power Down.”

He pulls a face at you over the top of his glasses. “I’ll put you in a drawer.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He pauses for a moment, starting at the little robot before he grabs hold of it.

“Nathan!”

There is a split second where you are sure he’s going to follow through and do exactly that, but instead he stands up and walks out of the room, holding the ebo in his hands as if it was a pet.

He makes sure the camera is facing outwards so that you can see where you’re going as he makes the short journey to the kitchen.

“I can roll you know,” you say teasingly.

“I don’t trust your driving.” Nathan replies, completely deadpan.

“What? You don’t trust my driving?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I don’t trust your driving.”

He scoffs. “I can drive better than you.”

“When was the last time you drove and weren’t driven, Bateman?”

There is a slight pause, but it’s enough.

“That’s not the point.” He says at the exact same time you speak: “Ha! See!”

You can hear him laugh, the screen shakes ever so slightly in his hands.

Once he’s in the kitchen he puts the ebo onto the large countertop.

“Put me on the floor.”

He gives you another look over his glasses. “I’m not letting you run into my ankles again.”

“Meanie.”

He turns away from you, pretending to look in a cupboard, but you can see his shoulders shake a little as he laughs.

“How is your work going?” You ask as he chops onion and garlic on the countertop next to you.

“Hmm, okay, I think I’ve found the main error in the code.”

It’s a little thing, him cooking. But it means a lot. You know normally he wouldn’t bother, when you’re away his eating habits (and schedule) tend to go out of the window. When you’re there he’s usually the one reminding you to eat. Nathan is surprisingly good at caring for people who aren’t himself.

You know why he’s cooking now and not later; your time difference means that it will be the middle of the night when he should be eating dinner. He’d rather eat with you than alone.

You chat as he cooks, mainly asking him about his work. You purposefully avoid talking about the conference your attending. Even when Nathan asks, you brush it off with a quick ‘it’s okay’.

You’ll tell him in detail when you get back. When you can annoy him, lovingly, with kisses in between your sentences. When you don’t have to pretend you can’t see that sad look in his soft brown eyes because you’re not there.

That’s probably the worst part. The fact that he is trying his best to hide how the distance between you affects him. But it’s still written all over his face.

He stirs the sauce on the hob, taking a teaspoon from a side drawer and tasting it. He hums for a second before adding a little more salt.

“Hey, I want a taste.”

Nathan turns to look at the ebo. You think he’s going to say something sarcastic but instead he gets out a new teaspoon (which makes you laugh) and dips it into the sauce.

He blows on it, holding his other hand underneath so that it doesn’t drip. Steam floats up in rolling waves and his glasses fog up ever so slightly. Before he brings it over to the ebo.

He holds it in front carefully and you move forward slowly, pretending to take a bit.

“Hmmm! Tastes good!”

Nathan laughs. And playfully calls you an idiot.

When he serves up his food, he moves the ebo from the countertop to the table, you do a double take and are very glad that Nathan can’t see you.

He’s set a mini place next to him, with a tiny side plate of food. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see him glancing at you from under his eyelashes.

You make the ebo spin around in a circle before moving closer to your plate and making an exaggerated ‘yum’.

Nathan laughs loudly, it’s the best sound in the world.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading! Want to be tagged?

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @mbakubabe @welcometostayingawakee @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @pimosworld

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#this made me so happy and sad #nathan bateman #ex machina #nathan bateman x reader

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 4 hours

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shut up, kid

You awake to your first Mother’s Day with baby Bateman.

Warnings: Nathan is honestly the only warning you need. I suppose some hints of breastfeeding too (a fed baby is a happy baby, whether bottle or breast). Actually proofread for once, but probably still mistakes that I missed. Word count: 750 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This was written VERY last minute (by last minute, I mean at 9:30pm on Mother's Day in the UK 😂). Anyway, happy Mother’s Day to all the parents out there! 😊 I’ve recently been very broody and very Nathan oriented, so I created this mostly self-indulgent fic (loosely based on this post from a few weeks ago).

I struggle to write Nathan, I feel like I can't get his personalty, or his demeanour right, so please let me know if I can improve anywhere! I want to write more Nathan!

It was the sound of a loud, high-pitched, excited squeal, that woke you up.

“Hey,” came the voice of your boyfriend, sounding distant and muffled as the sweet caress of sleep called back to you. “I know we came to wake up your mom, but that’s not the way to do it. You want to deal with the dragon before she’s had her morning coffee? No? I fuckin’ thought not. Shut up, kid.”

“You shouldn’t swear at your son,” you muttered into your pillow, knowing now that sleep was just a distant memory.

“Ah, shit.”

You grin into the pillow before you look up, your eyes blurrily settling on your boyfriend, who had a mug of coffee in his left hand (in your favourite mug – one you got from a Blue Book convention back when you were in college, long before you met Nathan...Nathan hated it), and his other hand was occupied supporting your seven-month-old son, Silas, who was happily sitting on Nathan’s hip, still in his footsie pyjamas, chewing on his pointer finger. It was sickening how you carried the kid for nine months, and going through a 36-hour labour, sacrificing your body and your boobs (your nipples will never be the same again), for him to look exactly like Nathan.

You still love the bones off him anyway.

“Kid doesn’t know what I’m saying, it’s fine,” Nathan continues, coming over to you and holding out the mug. You take it, smiling up at Nathan as he leans down to you and presses a kiss against your lips, murmuring a ‘good morning’ to you before he straightens up.

He’s so hot. Even now, he’s just wearing some old sweatpants and a t-shirt (it even has a stain of old baby throw up, which you just couldn’t get out), but it’s the way he’s holding your son...it does things to you.

“Good morning,” you greeted back, taking a sip of your coffee. You nod at Silas as he continued to chew on his finger. “Lost another pacifier?”

“I don’t know what he does with them,” Nathan said, shaking his head, gesturing with now free his hand around the room. “Spend all my fuckin’ spare time trying to find that blue one that he refuses to nap without.”

“Language,” you tell him, take a sip of your coffee.

“Sorry,” he says, almost on autopilot. “I’ll request more for the chopper next week. Think 50 will be enough? Obviously fuckin’ not, he’ll lose them all within a week.”

You laugh as you shake your head at him before looking at Silas. “Is your dada silly?” you ask him in your most annoying baby voice.

The kid loves it. He smiles widely at you and kicks his legs in excitement.

“Anyway,” Nathan says, adjusting Silas in his grip as he looked back at you, evidently choosing to ignore your comment to your son. “Happy Mother’s Day, or whatever. I made you breakfast, your favourite. The kid had some, he loved it, so now we’ll probably have to make it for him every day. I’ll run you a bath and by the time you’re finished it should be ready. While you’re being a lazy ass in the tub and skirting your duties as a mother - “

You go to swat Nathan on the thigh, but he dodges you swiftly and carries on like he was never interrupted.

“Me and this one,” he nods to Silas. “Will work on some tummy time, see if we can start crawling today.”

“Not all kids start crawling at seven months.”

“Not all kids are mine.”

“Debatable, regarding all the sex you were having before we met.”

“You’re reaping all the benefits from ‘all that sex’.”

“You pig.”

“You love me.”

You do. God, you do. So much. But you’re not going to tell him that.

You take a gulp of your coffee, hiding your smile.

“Get your pretty ass out of bed,” Nathan said, already turning away from you, grabbing Silas around the tummy and tossing him lightly in the air and catching him, causing Silas to laugh that cute baby giggle he has that melts your heart. “Come and celebrate your first Mother’s Day.”

He leaves the room, and you laugh to yourself as you distinctly hear the sound of Nathan giving Silas a raspberry on his belly as he walks down the corridor, the squealing sound of laughter from your son following right after.

It sends a warm feeling of joy and happiness through you.

#giggling and blushing like a manic #nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #ex machina

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 4 hours

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In Plain Sight: The Indoctrination of Nathan Bateman

summary: nathan lets you in.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/nsfw/minors dni, hurt comfort, sad!nathan, illusions to alcoholism, family angst, illusions to child abuse, vulnerable!nathan

wc: 1730

an: we’re back and today’s in plain sight saga lets us into nathan’s brain and background.

in plain sight masterlist | planted | little hamlet

Today starts like every other day for you. Days have melded and melted together since your mother’s death, and so today is like any other. One day at a time, that’s what Nathan had said to do. He’s been good to you. Great to you. So understanding and patient and forgiving as you navigate taking care of your sisters through this rough time. He’s been taking care of you. It’s strange to feel dependent on someone when you’ve been independent for so long.

Its stranger that that person is Nathan— he loves you, sure, he can be romantic and witty and kind. But, how he’s taken care of you over the last 3 months has been selfless, he’s been the most thoughtful person you’ve ever met. And while he had committed to growth as a person to win you over, you couldn’t have said you expected him to be so gracious. It’s a pleasant surprise. An indicator you gave the right man the right chance.

You aren’t just expecting him to wake up ready and willing to pull the weight like he has for these last few months. He’s allowed to be tired, to need space or a break to deal with his own shit and you have no issue with that. But, when you come into work today Nathan is nowhere to be found. The house is eerily quiet.

Your stomach flips a little, the alarm bells ringing in your head. But then you take a deep breath and center yourself, working that anxiety from a 7 to a 4. Because not everything has to be the fight it used to be, not with him by your side. Not with the promises he’s made to you.

Maybe he’s sat in the kitchen too wrapped up in his laptop to have realized what time it is or that you’ve arrived. When you get to the kitchen, you quickly realize that’s not the case. It's empty– clean as always, but empty. You check the coffee maker, it's loaded but not on and brewing like it usually is. You sigh, setting your bag on the dining table, mentally starting to make a game plan on finding him.

He could be many places in this neverending bunker he calls a home. Sometimes you tease him, calling him a princess locked in some ivory tower. It always gets you an eye roll, some whiny smart ass comment, and when he’s feeling particularly vindictive, some intense tickling. Those moments, like most of the moments you have with Nathan, have you ready to pinch yourself in disbelief. Believing the man you now share a life with used to be your grumpy, narcissistic boss is a mindfuck– but you chose to believe it, you choose to believe him because of how surprisingly easy it is to love him.

Turning back towards the counter, you start the coffee maker and head into the living room. You’re not surprised that he isn’t there, he would’ve said something by now. You head downstairs to the offices and work rooms, stopping in your office first. You find it empty.

The trail begins. You pop your head into every lab, ever office, every closet, nook and cranny. And eventually after expanding your search you find Nathan where you least expect him…in bed.

Curled up under his blanket, an unopened bottle of beer sitting on his nightstand. It’s dark, just the light of his alarm clock.

You step into the room, coming to rest on your knees to get a closer look at him. His eyes are open, glassy and obviously red, even in the limited light. You’ve never seen him like this. It’s like he’s seeing a ghost or maybe nothing at all. He doesn’t even move when you wave a hand in front of his face.

“Baby?” You whisper, voice colored with worry.

Nathan blinks, jumping back ever so slightly to sit up like he’s just returned from another dimension. For just a moment, there’s fear in his eyes and then he’s squeezing them shut, clenching his fist together. When his eyes finally meet yours he looks a little more like himself.

“What are you doing down here?” He asks softly, running a hand over his buzzed hair.

“I got in for work and I couldn’t find you.”

“Shit, what fucking time—“ He looks over at the clock, pinching his nose when he sees the time. “Fuck.”

“Nathan, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I lost track of time. Didn’t sleep well. You know the feeling,” Nathan’s tone isn’t unkind or dismissive— it never is anymore, when it comes to you— but it is markedly avoidant.

“Nathan.”

“Honey,” He counters, rising out of bed. He reaches for the beer bottle on his nightstand, and throws it in the trash before start towards his bathroom.

“We don’t do that,” You say, following after him.

He stops just shy of the door, turning around to raise a brow at you, “Do what, honey?”

“Lie.”

“You’re accusing me of lying right now?”

You cross your arms against your chest, and for the first time in a long time, you fix Nathan with that look that initially drew him in. Nonsensical and fiery; confrontational. “I am.”

“I don’t lie. I have no reason to fucking lie.”

“Nathan, get real,” You murmur gently.

“I am real. Would you stop it with the fucking pushing?”

“When…when we first started this, I wanted to hide too. The shit with my mom, with my sisters, all the managing— I didn’t know if you’d still want me if you knew about the massive baggage. But you told me that we’re trying. Trying to be there and trying to love each other the best we can. You’ve done that for me every single day, and even more so since my mom died. I think it’s only fair if you let me do that for you too.”

Nathan looks at you like you’re some foreign object he’s seeing for the first time. Like he’s a lost, terrified puppy who’s finally receiving some care. Maybe it was silly of you to think that because your love was steady that he’d let go, that he’d open up completely. But you want him to, want him to feel utterly safe, to show you all the sides of him. That side that’s looking at you right now, skittish and broken. You love him regardless. It’s your turn to remind him of that, if he’ll let you.

“Say something. Anything,” You murmur quietly, reaching out to lace your fingers together.

His gaze falls to where your hands meet, and then he sits heavily on the bed, pulling you with him.

After a noticeable silence, several harsh breaths from him, like he’s trying to find the air to find the words he says, “Today…I fucking hate today.”

“Yeah? Tell me why it sucks, baby.”

“I don’t—honey, I don’t really…it’s their anniversary. My parents. The Batemans,” He frowns, his voice laced with disgust.

“They weren’t good to you.”

“No, they weren’t. The only person who’s ever been good to me, is me. Until I met you,” He adds, his mouth curling up in a smile.

You squeeze his hand, resting your head on his shoulder. “Why their anniversary?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, really?”

“I just want to understand you. Let me carry it with you, Nathan. You’ve done it alone long enough don’t you think?”

“Alright,” He says, his voice much harder than he means for it to be. He clears his throat, squeezes your hand in apology, and repeats, “Alright. I’m a fucking pipsqueak. I mean small, tiny, maybe like 6 or 7. It’s their anniversary and like a fucking chump, I make them a card. It takes all day. All fucking day, honey and I—“

“You what?” You encourage him gently.

“I was so fucking excited. Buzzing with it. Vibrating. Used their favorite colors, drew us all together like we were one big happy fucking family. And when I…when I gave it to them...” Nathan trails off, shaking his head. He leans further into you, desperate for some safety, some warmth so that he can keep going. Keep showing you like you want.

“They’re scum, I mean who talks to a fucking kid like that? It wasn’t fucking Picasso so it was trash. They shit all over it and I…from that day on it was like I decided to be the bigger asshole. I had to hate them more than they hated me.”

“You deserve so much better than that Nathan. Then and now, and every moment in between. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” He shrugs, running a hand over his face.

You reach for it, pushing it away so that you can cup his jaw, turn his gaze towards yours. “Then I’ll know for us. You trust me don’t you?”

Nathan’s eyes are misty, and you can tell that he’s fighting to hold his tears in. He nods, smiles a little, “With the codes to the nukes, baby.”

“Then trust me with your heart too. I promise I’ll always cherish it.”

“God, you—you’re out of this fucking world.”

“Yeah, I love you too,” You tease with a grin.

“I was gonna say that. Where’s that patience you hound me about?” He asks, pulling you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands rub at your hips tenderly, reverently.

“Misplaced,” You quip, looping your arms around his neck. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“For my birthday…make me a card?”

“Honey—“

You lean in, eyes wide and round, pressing your mouth against his as you murmur, “Please? I want it. It’s the only thing I want…well cake.”

“Don’t forget obedience.”

“You’ll give that to me anyway. Please, Nathan?”

He knows that the moment you want something, if its in his power, it’s yours. And Nathan can certainly make you a card with his bare hands. It’s one of the easiest, smallest things you’ve ever asked him for.

“Alright, fine, sure thing.”

“Do you have crayons?”

He laughs. “Do I look like a guy who owns fucking crayons?”

“We’re going to Michael’s— get dressed.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“It’s what I do. Showered, dressed. I’ll make some breakfast.”

“Hey,” He calls after you, reaching for your hand as you turn to walk away.

“Mhmm?”

“I love you,” He says firmly, bringing your hand up to his mouth.

“Ditto, baby.”

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, @reallyrallyauthor

#🥹🥹#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 5 hours

Text

In Plain Sight, Ch 5: To Atomize

summary: nathan leaves his house to tell you he loves you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, mentions of sick/dying parent, pining, dom/sub dynamics, mid love confessions, oral (m + f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, squirting, NATHAN’S SO IN LOVE AND SIMPY AND FREE

wc: 6,138

an: we've sadly reached the end of the main story. thank you thank you for all the support on this fic. a girl watches ex machina once and suddenly is writing 20+k for an asshole simp. i do plan to write the extras fairly quickly (the next month or so) and they'll vary in length. i hope y'all stick around for more of them.

You and Nathan are doing work out on the couch, your legs thrown over his. It’s all very domestic, something the both of you could get used to.

He doesn’t look up when he asks, “That date out— do you still want it?”

“I do but honestly, I don’t think it’s realistic. You like being out here, Emma and Phillipa shouldn’t be at home by themselves for so long— not to mention my mom.”

“You don’t talk about your mom,” He observes, his eyes rising from his laptop to look at you.

You continue your work as you talk, “There’s too much to talk about. And nothing at all.”

“And the vagueness returns,” There’s more bite in his voice than he wants there to be, but he can’t help it.

You notice immediately— going rigid like stone before you fix him with an empty gaze. “She’s dying. She can’t work. She sleeps most days. In the mornings before I come here, I read to her and when I get home I tell her I love her and kiss her goodnight. Is that specific enough for you, Mr. Bateman?”

Nathan just looks at you, his eyes for once, void of any emotion to tell you how he’s feeling. Nathan 3 months ago would have stormed away, or said something snarky. But, he just keeps looking at you. The silence makes you uncomfortable and your words replay in your mind over and over, guilt building each time. Your mother’s a tender subject, but Nathan is…more than anyone has ever been to you despite not making that clear to him. You open your mouth to apologize but he shushes, closing his laptop and then yours before he pulls you into his lap and holds you close.

He kisses at your temple, your forehead, your cheek, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

It shouldn’t catch you off guard, his affection and tenderness but it does. You melt into him even as your walls go up inside. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, honey. It’s not. Can you tell me what—“

“Cancer. Off and on since I was in high school.”

“You’ve been taking care of your sisters off and on since they were born?”

You shrug. It was true. In the moment, when you and your mother had made those decisions together— your father wishing and washing his way in and out of your lives whenever he felt like— they hadn’t seemed like a big deal. But, Nathan’s tone can’t help but make you realize how much you’d missed out on because of your duty to your family.

“Shit, honey.”

“It’s alright, Nathan,” You breathe. It’s not, it’s never been okay, but you’ve been telling yourself that for as long as you can remember.

“It’s not. You’re a good fucking woman. You and your family deserve better.”

“They do deserve better. My sisters don’t have a time remembering her like I do. Before she got sick. That’s fucked up isn’t it?”

“Yeah, baby, it is.” His hold on your tightens, a hand smoothing up and down your back. “Let me take you out for one night.”

“Nathan, I just said—“

He takes your jaw into his hands, intentional yet gentle with his grip as he guides you to look at him. Those big brown eyes are warm but firm. “We’ll do it in the city. I’ll pick you up from your apartment, you’ll be a phone call away. I’ll bring you home first thing in the morning. C’mon baby, you deserve a break. Let me give it to you.”

—

You agree to Nathan’s advances, like you always do these days. This date takes a lot of coordinating— but somehow it all turned out in your favor. Nathan jokes that it’s because of his god-like will. You’re just happy to take the breather when it’s presented to you. Emma gets invited to her first sleepover, Phillipa’s school is having a lock in. Somehow, Nathan had convinced you to accept him paying for one day of round the clock care for your mother so her usual nurse, Celia, could have a day off too.

You’re realizing that maybe you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. That you believe what he’s said about the depths of his feelings for you and maybe, you’re ready to take the next step and allow yourself to feel them openly for him too. How quickly the tide turns. How quickly Nathan had put in the effort to show how badly he wanted this— you. 3 months ago you could say with sincere surety that you did not like Nathan Bateman. And now…well you were sure you couldn’t deny loving him.

He tells you to dress formally— it lands you in your favorite black dress, the one that always gives you a boost of confidence and makes you feel good. You’re going to need if your racing thoughts about how your feelings have deepened are any indicator for how the evening will go. And maybe, once or twice, you’ve imagined Nathan peeling you out of it when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband late at night.

When you open the door, Nathan’s in a crisp white button down and slacks, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders— your knees nearly give out. So do his.

“Fuck me,” He breathes.

“My neighbors can hear you,” You remind him breathlessly, your face hot as his eyes slowly trace your figure.

“They should be lucky we’re not staying here or they’d hear a hell of a lot more. Fuck. You look incredible, baby.”

“My eyes are up here.”

“I’ve seen enough of those.”

“Nathan.”

“Can you fucking blame me? You walk out here in this tight little dress, one I imagine will stay on until after dinner, which is a fucking sin if you ask me. I’m giving commotion for the dress honey, it is what it is. Come here,” He reaches for you, snaking his arm around your waist so he can kiss you thoroughly. When he breaks the kiss he whispers, “Hi.”

Some of your nerves dissipate at his clear attraction to you, his sweetness. You smile against his mouth, bumping his nose with your own. “Hi. You look so handsome.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Patience and good manners, you’re a changed man yet.”

“Does that mean if I ask to feel you up in the limo, you’ll say yes?”

“My neighbors, Nathan,” You remind him sternly, though you’re still smiling.

“Stuffy old fucks probably need a good show.”

“Walk.”

—

The limo ride to the nearby docks is 40 minutes with the traffic — and he helps you out like a gentleman, guiding you to a moderately sized boat. It’s impressive, all cream and blues, the

“Nathan, why is there a helicopter next to this boat?”

“In case you need to get home,” He says simply, if that explanation is enough.

“In case— we got here by limo.”

“You’re a phone call and a 10 minute helicopter ride away from your family.”

How were you gonna make it through dinner without dragging him to the ground so you could ruck up your dress and fuck him? He was saying all of this, doing all of this so nonchalantly, like it isn’t the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

He leans in, mouth and beard tickling your cheek as his whispers teasingly, “This is usually where people say thank you.”

You lean away, giggling a little. Your tone is suggestive, “What if I’m saving my thank you until after dinner?”

“Finally gonna show me some of those methods? It’s been driving me fucking nuts, honey.”

“Depends on how good you are.”

Nathan bites back a moan. This is all so fucking surreal. Being out of his home, being with you. Learning more and more about you, seeing you. Being yours and you being his. It’s more than he could’ve hoped for. He thought he would’ve fucked up by now— and he has, but you held a selfless amount of patience in your heart. He finds himself feeling…grateful? It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one he pushes away from a young age.

“Don’t be filthy before dinner,” He murmurs lowly.

“You‘ve been eyeing my tits since you picked me up,” You challenge.

“I’ve been appreciating them, there’s a difference. You ever been on a boat before?”

You eye the boat thoughtfully, “My mom used to take me on the ferry. Does that count?”

Nathan hums. He hasn’t ushered you onto the boat just yet, the two of you standing out on the docks in the salty breeze. It’s nice, being out in the fresh air like this, the water dark as the sun finishes dipping below the horizon. He’d anticipated much more anxiety given his hermit tendencies but it was just you and him and the few staff he’d hired to manage the boat.

“Do you want to name it?” He blurts out all of a sudden.

“Name what?”

“The boat,” He nods towards the ship.

You frown, confused. “You haven’t named the boat?”

“I bought it last week.”

“Nathan, did you buy this boat to take me out on a date?”

“Yes I did,” He says with no shame.

All of that will be an adjustment, the blasé way that he spends money— especially when he spends it on you. You know that he has a fuck ton of it but still; you’ve never lived a life of luxury.

“Do all employees get this sign-on bonus?” You tease.

“Hush, cheeky girl. Name the boat.”

You grow thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness quickly melts into a melancholic, wistful feeling. You think about your mom. How she’s been swayed back and forth by the tide of life, doing her best to float above it all. It would be nice wouldn’t it, to name something after the woman you love most?

“Boats are named after strong women. So I think…Tiana,” You murmur, voice full of emotion. You clear your throat quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice.

But Nathan’s obsessed with you— and now that you’ve let him in, he can sense every push and pull. He maneuvers you so that your back is flush with his front. “I like it. Tiana…is that your mother?”

You don’t trust your voice. You simply hum, nodding a little bit as you press back against him.

He squeezes you tighter, “It’s perfect, baby. Absolutely fucking perfect.

He cups your jaw with one hand, guiding your gaze to his. He’s never seen you nonverbal like this before, never seen sadness in your eyes like this. It makes his chest ache. He guides your mouth to his, kissing you with gentle reverence you never would’ve guessed he was capable of until recently.

Nathan just holds you, letting you melt against him in silence for an undetermined amount of time. His worry grows. “Do you want to call the nurse before we sit down for dinner? Emma? Phillipa?”

Finally, you speak. “No. No, it’s alright. I spend the entire day away from all of them when I’m working for you— I can do this.”

“Just say the word, okay, sweetheart?”

You lean in to give him a soft peck of appreciation, “Yes, I will. Thank you, Nathan.”

Dinner is much more elaborate than it had to be— but this is Nathan you’re talking about, a man with practically the entire world at his fingertips. Of course a 10 course meal makes sense to him. Not that you’re complaining about a personal sized crawl through Italy; breads and antipasto, pastas of all sorts, wines that are perfectly paired, and to end your favorite dessert from the first time the two of you shared a meal together. Despite his underestimating himself and his chaste manner, you think that Nathan is good at romance. He’s great at romance. By the time you’re finishing the last bite, you’re warm and full, a little buzzed and most importantly— needy for him.

Your entire body is craving his. You’ve denied your desires and his for long enough. You need him, you feel like you might go insane with lust— with love, if you don’t have him.

“Are we sleeping here?”

“There’s a suite downstairs, or there’s a hotel nearby I reserved. It’s your call.”

“Here…here is good. Will you take me to bed?” You ask, nonchalantly.

Nathan chokes on the wine he’s sipping, setting it down to looking at you more intently. “Take you to bed,” He repeats.

“Yes, Nathan, take me to bed,” You practically purr at him this time, voice low and smoky.

Nathan has had lots of sex in his life, never been flustered or taken aback by anyone. He’s accepted that all of his past experiences go out the window when it comes to you, but he doesn’t expect such a strong reaction out of himself when faced with the opportunity to finally ravish you. He feels like if he stood up right now, his legs would give out like jello.

The way you’re looking at him— he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like this in his entire life. Carnal and hungry, like when you kissed him breathless in the forest, but more intense. It’s almost overwhelming. He’s never been consumed before, and that’s exactly how you’re looking at him. Like you’re going to swallow him whole. His cock twitches and he takes a deep breath.

“Come here,” He says softly, pushing away from the table and holding his hand out for you.

You stand, moving closer to him but don’t take his hand. “If I touch you…if we start here, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Nathan feels winded. He squeezes his eyes shut, and nods. “Fuck, honey, alright. Follow me.”

Nathan guides you through the dining room and down a hall, not even bothering to mention what doors the two of you pass. His heart is pounding in his chest— he’s ready for this, been ready for so long and he wants this to mean something. He had been ready to wait as long as you needed in order for this moment to be everything it can be.

The suite he takes you to is larger than you anticipated it to be, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As soon as Nathan shuts the door behind you, you practically launch yourself at him, your hands starting at where his shirt is tucked into his pants. You ruck it up, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Whoa, mmm,” He hums into your mouth. His hands finally fall to cup your ass, kneading and squeezing the way he’s wanted to for hours now. “You been this desperate the whole time?”

“Have you?” You counter as you press him against the door, grinding your hips against his. You can feel him through the fabric of his trousers, and it makes your mouth water.

“Fuck, baby, lemme get you on the bed at least,” He breathes when he feels the way your hips rut.

You pull away, looking at him with bright but hazy eyes— like he’s just come up with some revolutionary idea. “The bed, right. Come here.”

You start to walk backwards, guiding him with you by his shirt. Once the back of your thighs hit the bed, you switch positions with him, encouraging him to sit down so that you can straddle him. Nathan feels weightless— this is like his dream come true. Just a couple months ago he was jerking himself off imagining a sight like this, and now he was living it.

Looking up at you, he feels warm. Fuzzy. Like he’s in the safest place he’ll ever be in. With his limited data and hope, trust— things he’s never had with anyone— he knows that he is. This is all he’ll ever need. You’re all he’ll ever need. He loves you so much it hurts.

“Baby,” He sighs, guiding your mouth down to his. Where your mouth is hurried and insistent, his is lazy and indulgent. He wants to savor every moment.

“Hmm,” You hum grinding down against his clothed cock in a move that makes both of you moan.

“I fucking love you.”

You lean away, eyes wide with alarm. Part of you, most of you, thought that to be true. Well— whatever he was capable of feeling that was close to love. He’s proved himself to you. All of his intentions, his actions, his words— no matter how haphazard he’s been in communicating them— have been pure. While just a few months ago you were sure Nathan could love no one but himself, you’re sure now that he’s being completely honest. It sends you further into your frenzy. He loves you.

Nathan Bateman fucking loves you.

You’re quiet for so long that he feels antsy. There’s no regret, no anger in his heart like he thought there could be when first pursuing you. But he is starting to feel small, like a nuisance like his parents made him feel all those years ago.

“Really?” You ask breathlessly, unsure if it’s from his declaration or your body’s response to being pressed against him like this.

He scoffs, squeezing your hips, “Really? You think I fucking—“

“Okay, alright, I love you too.”

“Really?”

You fix him with narrowed eyes. Of course you get scolded but he gets to do the exact same thing as you. It’s very Nathan. It makes you love him more.

“Nathan.”

“My really is fucking justified, I’m some asshole, you’re…you’re the moon. The sun. The sky. I’m not good at this poetic shit but I mean it.”

“You’re the sweetest, most thoughtful, insightful and just— kind. I know what you’re thinking, I know that something or someone’s taught you not to think that you’re kind and worthy but you are. Even if you’re an asshole and a clown, you are. And I love you.”

“We’re fucking corny and sickly sweet and so cliche. I could vomit,” He says, his grin wide and genuine.

You nuzzle into him, laughing softly at the tickle of his beard, “You would study it, see if it quantified any of your love for me.”

“So you think I’m disgusting,” He murmurs, using his grip on you to rock your hips down against his cock.

The pressure is sweet, and you shiver even as you try to get your voice even. “Am I wrong?”

He laughs a little, eyes fluttering when you help him rock you down even further, “No.”

You reach up to remove his glasses, bending to set them on the side of the bed— you didn’t want to break them, now with how you were about to ravish him. “Kiss me, Nathan.”

Usually, he needs to be told things once, twice, and again but this request Nathan obeys immediately. His hands start to travel up your body, fingers sliding under the fabric of your dress to expose inch after inch of your precious skin. His eyes are closed as he bares you to him, pulling down the cups of your bra so your breasts spill out, but he can feel how beautiful you are under his fingertips. Smooth and soft, fitting perfectly in his grasp. Every touch, every kiss is electric. His hands skate up your stomach, cupping your breasts before he takes your nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good. So good,” He mumbles into your mouth, his fingers still working, eager to hear the soft little sound you made.

You melt into him, nodding frantically as you continue to sip from his mouth. “You too.”

Nathan breaks away from your mouth, biting and kissing his way down your neck, sucking a faint mark into your skin. More. He wants more of you, and you more of him. He kisses a trail between your breasts before leaning in, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth. You taste so fucking good. Like honey and cocoa, so delicious. Not for the first time, Nathan thinks about how much he wants to consume you. Or be consumed. He can’t choose, his head is spinning and he’s getting more frantic, shaking beneath you as he sucks and nips at you.

You can feel yourself getting lost in him, but this isn’t what you’ve thought about all these months. He feels incredible, his mouth is warm, his hands sure. The pleasure that’s blooming all over your body is one you'll never give up. But, no, for all these months, you’ve thought about turning him into a whining, shivering mess. You’ve thought about making him cum over and over until he can think of nothing but you.

You lean away, cupping your face in your hands, “Wait— please, let me touch you. I get off all the time, but I haven’t touched a man in so long. I wanna see you.”

“Honey—“

Your hands fall, gripping his shirt and ripping at it. Buttons scatter as you work him out of the shirt, leaning in to coax his mouth open for you once more. “Let me make you cum. Please, I need it.”

“That’s what you want?” He asks skeptically.

“Yeah, and you’d give me anything, wouldn't you? You ask, tilting your head at him expectantly.

“I’d give you anything,” He confirms.

You slid out of his lap, reaching behind to unclasp your bra and discard it. It leaves you in nothing but black lace panties. “Then take your pants off.”

All Nathan can do for several moments is stare at you, his mouth agape, ready to drool. He could believe he’s died and gone to heaven, except he doesn’t believe such a place exists. And if he did, he would not end up in a place where he would be so privileged to be met with the sight of you. You're an angel in the most sinful way.

“Nathan,” You coo when he doesn’t move, a soft grin on your face.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, a soft blush rising in his cheeks.

It’s adorable, it makes the heat in your lower belly burn brighter. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him by the second. “I thought about you like this so much.”

“Could've fooled me,” He heaves, trying to seem less affected than he is. That boat sailed the moment you asked him to take you to bed.

You laugh softly at his words, dropping to your knees and resting your hands on his broad thighs. “Don’t be snarky, baby, just let me make us feel good. You want that don’t you?”

Nathan shivers, even as your warm, honeyed voice glides across his skin. God he knew you’d be like this, knew he’d bend to your will so easily but to hear it and feel it. “I do,” He sighs, allowing you to guide him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Your eyes are dark with hunger, and you lick your lips a little as you look up at him. “God, your cock’s so fucking pretty. Can I put my mouth on you?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” He whispers earnestly.

You aren’t gentle or patient or thoughtful about letting him adjust. You take Nathan’s cock completely, so deep that he feels like he’s starting to enter your stomach. It takes everything in him to keep his hips down, a will that crumbles when you swallow, your throat tightening around him. The sound you make is a cross between a gag and a satisfied hum. You pull off without missing a beat, spitting on the tip of his cock and lifting a hand to grip and pump him.

“Mmm, shit, that’s really…that’s really fucking—“ Nathan babbles incoherently, words cutting off.

You start in on him again, your head bobbing up and down as you take him over and over again. The noises he’s making have you squeezing your thighs together. Soft and breathy and so so sweet. You peer up at him wanting to see how he looks. The flush in his cheeks is deeper and redder, his eyes somehow sharp and hazy all at once. Seeing him so vulnerable, gooey and nearing the peak of pleasure you don’t stop, sucking harder, allowing the tip of his cock to go deeper.

One of his hands falls to your shoulders, gripping it gently, “Wait— wait— fuck, hold on baby, just,”

Carefully, you pull off of him, wiping at the trail of spit that connects your mouth to his cock. You look up at him with those sweet little eyes, like you haven’t nearly sucked what little of a soul lies within him. “Hmm?”

“Wanna cum inside you, please.”

“This is you cumming inside me,” You challenge, kissing at the head of his cock.

“Inside your pussy,” He gasps, the vein that trails down the center of his forehead on display as he fights to stay still—as he holds back.

You rest your head on his thigh, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon. The sight alone almost makes him cum.

“Say, please,” You whisper.

“Please, sweetheart.”

“You’re so good, do you know that?” You ask him softly, reaching up to cup his face.

“Good?” He asks with a furrowed brow. The word directed at himself feels clumsy in his mouth.

“Good,” You repeat as confirmation. “So good that you’re gonna lay back against those pillows without another word aren’t you?”

Processing your words, he simply nods, helping you to your feet before he scoots back, propped up against the pillows, looking so devilishly handsome. If you stared at him long enough, you’re sure you could cum from just this sight. But why torture yourself like that, when you’re this close to having him buried inside you? Body humming with anticipation you crawl up the bed, straddling him once more.

“Do you want to feel how wet I am?”

“Yes,” He answers quickly before tacking on, “please.”

That sentence alone shows just how much Nathan Bateman is a changed man. Please without being promoted? Atop apologies and vulnerability and love confessions.

You hold your panties to the side for him, “Go on then. Touch me, baby.”

Nathan’s eyes track to where your pussy runs along his cock, burning hot. He reaches for you, letting his fingers sweat through your folds, causing both of you to moan. You’re so fucking wet, dripping, glistening in the warm lamplight.

“For me?” He asks, voice and hands trembling as he finds your clit, pressing his thumb against it.

“For you. Because you’re so fucking good for me. Good to me.”

Every fucking word out of your mouth pulls his closer to his release. He needs to be inside you, he can feel the clock ticking. “Can I fuck you now, honey? Please, I need to feel you.”

“Who knew Nathan Bateman would beg?”

“On my knees for the rest of my fucking life, baby.”

You can picture it, except in your dreams, Nathan’s beard is shining with your slick. Your breath catches, and you grow too needy to continue teasing him. It takes you just a few seconds to line him up with your entrance, giving neither of you time to adjust as you sink down on him completely. His back arches, huffing a heavy, labored breath. He’s sweating, he can feel it, his skin slick underneath your fingertips as your pussy grips him so deliciously tight. You’re dripping down his cock already.

“Fuck, honey—,” He laughs, squeezing at your hip, nearly pushing you off to hold on. “Fuck me, you couldn’t have— warned a guy?”

“Sorry,” You breathe, grinning down at him, “needed to fuck you.”

Nathan’s eyes roll as you rock your hips, completely breathless, “Shit—your pussy’s so fucking tight. So hot, you been saving this all for me?”

You bend, your nose resting against his as you gaze into him, “Savor it— don’t think. Don’t control. Just enjoy it, Nathan. Be with me. Give in to me. Say yes.”

“Yes,” He slurs, drawn out and drunk on you.

You guide his hands to either side of his head, holding them down by his wrists as you start to move, your pussy taking his cock the way your throat had with even more ease. The two of you fit together so perfectly, your cunt swallowing his entire length over and over, pleasure mounting higher and higher inside you. Nathan’s winning the fight against his body now. He’s happy to submit to you, it feels so good, so perfectly sweet, like he was made to be underneath you like this. But his body screams for release, to roll you over and fuck you hard until you squeeze his cock so tight there’s no choice in his cumming.

“Wanna cum…wanna cum in your pussy,” He whines, his hips lazily rocking up to meet yours.

“You will baby, I’ll let you fill me up,” You assure him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, teasing yourself and him for a moment as you close your eyes and let yourself really feel every single inch of him.

Nathan’s lips are parted slightly, pink and flushed, soft gasps leaving him as your hips grind down against his. You remove one of your hands from his wrists, leaning back so you have room to run your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” He says, his words syrupy, “feels good. So good.”

“Let me in there,” You murmur, tapping two of your fingers against his lips, and he opens wide immediately. You purposefully clench your cunt around him, a small reward for his obedience and he groans, his back arching as pleasure burns in his veins.

“I’m gonna soak your cock,” You tell him matter of factly.

Nathan’s eyes go wide, his chest rising fast as his lungs beg for air. No matter what he does its not enough. He’s drowning in you, there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s nothing he really wants to do about it. “Soak my—“

“Nice and wet, all over you. Gonna make us messier,” You whisper, like the sound of his cock gliding in and out of you isn’t already obscene. “You want that don’t you, Nathan?”

He doesn’t have words, just soft, needy sounds. Pleading round eyes. Shallow, noisy breaths. It’s all the answer you need.

“I know, baby. I know. Cum whenever you need to, I’ll make it,” The gentle tone of your voice doesn’t match the devious look in your eyes.

You know exactly what you’re doing. You know his cock aches with the need to release, know he’s fighting this because he never wants this to end. Know that he’s never been this deep in subspace in his life, that he’ll obey any command you give him.

You shift up on your knees, until you’re taking nothing but the tip, and then rock back, taking him as deep as you can. Bending to your will, Nathan cums with a sound that can only be described as sweet agony.

As he fills you up, your hips slip into a grind, pressing and pressing the tip of his cock against the sensitive spot inside you. You can feel it coming now, you know just how to twist your hips, just how long to rub at your clit to make it happen. Your thighs grow tight, your cunt clenching as it starts to milk him for everything he’s got. You gush around him, the sound so wet and filthy that Nathan thinks he might cum again. Your slick is everywhere; your thighs, your stomach and all over Nathan, his lower belly glistening with you. He looks down and groans again, need rising sharply in his chest. He wants to taste you.

“Let me taste you, please. Drown me,” He begs, one of his hands shakily reaching for where the two of you connect.

Your hands fall to the pillows on either side of his head, propping you up from where you’d since collapsed onto him. “Nathan, baby, you’re tired—“

But, Nathan is desperate— as desperate as you were when you asked him to take you to bed, you can hear it in his voice as he pleads, “Sit on my face. Please, please, please, baby. Fucking, please. Let me eat your pussy.”

Your lost to him and his begging. With the little strength you have left, you shuffle up, getting you thighs on either side of his head, gently lowering yourself down through the burn of your muscles. Nathan has another idea, weakly reaching for you and effectively smothering himself in your pussy. Its messy, the sounds of his mouth as he licks and sucks at your clit like a starved man. Like you two hadn’t just stuffed yourselves full at dinner.

“Nathan,” You mumble, trying to steady yourself by leaning against the headboard. His beard tickles against your thighs, but makes the work of his mouth even better, brushing each and every bit of your sensitive pussy.

Despite your plea, Nathan is insatiable, pulling you down by his grip on your ass. He’s gasping and whining into your cunt, like it's all too much and too little at the same time. He can hardly breathe with how firmly he’s got you pressed against his face, though he wouldn’t change his position for the world. He would happily die here if it was what you wanted.

He can feel your thighs shaking against the sides of his head and knows that you’re close to cumming. Doubling his efforts, Nathan switches from running his tongue through your folds to focusing solely on your clit, circling and circling in a maddening technique. When you fall apart on his tongue, he presses his tongue inside of you, eager to drink up every single drop of your sweet honey.

He feels like he’s cumming again, his cock jerking behind you though there’s nothing for him to release. He feels like he’s been split right open, all of his tender, vulnerable spots on display.

It takes several minutes for Nathan to come back to himself once you shift off of his face, laying your body against his. He’s gasping for air with tightly shut eyes, his entire body shaking. You run a hand up and down his chest, cooing soft praises as you try to soothe him.

He stares at the ceiling, steadying his breaths. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. You’re the filthiest person I’ve ever met.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, admiring the shine of his beard that’s completely covered in you. A mark that he’s yours. “Thank you.”

The grin on your face— you’re trying to fucking kill him. How many times has he thought since he’s started this endeavor of winning your heart and why is it not over now that he has? Your grin is smug, full of fire, the fire he’s wanted from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He loves you so fucking much. If this is what he gets, he’ll be better for the rest of his life. He’ll move to the city, do the house in the crowded suburbs with the picket fence, get married. Have kids, and attend the most boring PTA meetings that plan bake sales. Bake sales where he’d have to make cookies— real cookies, not the ones with coconut sugar and almond flour, and low sugar chocolate. If it was what you wanted he’d do it all. Any of it at the drop of a hat.

“What are you thinking about?” You trace small shapes on his chest, enjoying the post-coital cuddle.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“That you’re everything,” He says easily. It’s nice— the reservations, the anxiety that he had about all of this has faded in the shadows.

With you, Nathan gets to be completely honest, knowing that he’s safe. None of what his parents said was true. He’s not unlovable. He’s not selfish. He isn’t just a fuck up that can never amount to anyone’s expectations. Despite his mistakes, he’s allowed to be loved.

“Remember when I was just your employee?” You ask teasingly, snuggling further into him.

“Fuck, I was an idiot for months. Best thing I’ve ever had, dangling in front of me in plain sight.”

“Not Bluebook?”

“No.”

“Or buying that property?”

“No.”

“The money?”

“No.”

“Your freedom?”

He snorts, “My freedom?”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted to you,” You remind him.

“And I fucking meant it.”

“It doesn’t sound very…freeing. Very Nathan,” You muse softly.

Nathan’s quiet for a long time— so long that you grow nervous, afraid that you’ve said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to sit up to apologize, he wraps his arms around you, dropping a kiss on your forehead, “This, sweetheart, is the freest I’ve ever been in my life.”

Fin

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 6 hours

Text

In Plain Sight, Ch 4: Prenups, Chess, & Puppy Dog Eyes

summary: you, nathan, and a couple hiccups.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nathan being so ungodly horny for reader, dirty talk!!!, a little bit of angst, insecure!nathan, SIMP NATHAN, reader being a tease but also afraid to be vulnerable herself, blood/vague first aid, FIRST KISS!!!!

wc: 5,879 (oopssss. had to add some of ch 5 to this or it would’ve been 10k, grab a snack or something yall!)

an: we are nearing the end of the main plot, which is so sad but also soooo exciting. thank you for all the kind words and thoughts and feedback on this, i’ve appreciated it all.

in plain sight masterlist | part 5

The drive home is dangerous. You can’t focus for the life of you. Your conversation with Nathan is on a loop— you’re dissecting, poking and prodding it, like your brain will eventually determine that it’s not real. But, then you get home and text him you made it and he replies. You spend the night with your sisters, a little distracted, but thankful for the time. And when you wake up in the morning, there’s a text from Nathan, telling you to drive safe. You bite away your smile, butterflies flutter through your stomach. He isn’t going to make this easy for you. There’s a small part of you that’s happy about that. The rest of you is worried. This could go south very quickly.

When you get into work there’s a steaming cup of tea and an envelope with your name on it sat on the desk. Curiosity gets the best of you and you pick up the envelope first— your tea has to cool anyway. You start to skim through the document inside, mouth dropping open in shock. This has to be a joke. Or maybe yesterday was. You wish it was all just some fucked up dream because maybe you were wrong. Maybe he is going to make this easy for you.

You march to his office, not bothering to tell him good morning like you normally would. “A contract? What is this 50 shades of Grey?”

“Honey, it’s not a contract,” He assures you nonchalantly, not even bothering to look away from his screen.

“It looks like a contract. Reads like a contract, is supposed to be signed like a contract.”

“Alright, so maybe it’s a contract. Sue me.”

“You don’t contractualize relationships, Nathan.”

“People get prenups all the time,” He challenges.

His eyes are still on the screen, fingers still typing away. It’s making your blood boil. He thinks he gets to turn your life upside down by confessing he has feelings for you, and then give you a contract with no discussion or merit for your feelings? He’s got another thing coming.

“We’re not getting married— we’re not even dating. I’m not some NDA whore.”

Nathan doesn’t even bat an eye at your profanity, for once too enraptured in his work to be distracted by you. “Sounds like a contract is fitting then.”

You go rigid again, forcing yourself to bite your tongue. You’ve already said too much, done too much, showed him too much of yourself. Clearly, this wasn’t worth it if this is his idea of trying. You set the papers down on his desk and start towards the door, “I knew this was a mistake.”

But that gets his attention. He jumps up from his desk, reaching out to grasp your hand in a way that makes your heart thump. “Wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry.”

“Are you? Because I could hardly get your attention and yesterday you swore you were ready for this.”

Nathan sighs, squeezing your hand, “I’m trying to be ready. I told you I was an asshole, not that that’s new information for either one of us.”

“Alright. This contract thing? It’s not cool. I don’t want to feel like I’m a business deal or some product you’re trying to ‘vibe out’,” You say, with air quotes, mimicking his voice a little at the end.

“Do I really sound like that?” He asks, distracted until you purse your lips at him impatiently. You’re so fucking cute, so sexy when you’re upset with him. And so close, if he leaned in just a few inches he could kiss you right now. He wants to. “Alright, alright, don’t look at me like that. Did you by chance read the whole thing?”

You’re silent for a few seconds and he raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for your answer. “Some of it,” You admit.

“So you probably saw all of the legal hoo-ha bullshit at the beginning and none of the chivalrous this is so regardless of how this goes he won’t treat you like shit or fire you part?”

“Chivalrous?” You ask incredulously.

“You’re the one who said you’re the breadwinner. I’m keeping you that, whether you break my heart or not. That’s fucking chivalrous,” He says, a little smug.

You realize at this moment that while you’re being pretty vulnerable, so is he. He was the one that initiated all of this despite not knowing if you had any inklings of feeling for him. He’d told you exactly how he felt about you. He agreed to your trial. And now he’s putting in lawful writing that even if you stomp all over him, he’ll keep you as his assistant and nothing will change. You’re not sure you could something like that, sit in the face of the man you love day in and day out while paying him. He hadn’t said that he loved you, not in so many words but you can’t overlook his intensity and how it seems he’s been harboring these feelings for months on end now. Maybe you aren’t giving him enough credit— you’re not really ready to just yet.

“You have one of those? A heart, I mean,” You ask teasingly.

Nathan grins, releasing your hand to cup your jaw. Your skin is so devilishly soft and this close he’s surrounded by the warm scent of your sultry perfume. He shifts ever so slightly, feeling the way his cock stirs. “Cheeky fucking girl. It’s just for me to sign it. You’re mentioned as the receiving party.”

You’re looking at him but not really, trying to distract yourself from how close he is. His hand is large, calloused against your skin and he smells like the pine trees that surround his house. Distraction. You need a distraction to play it cool. “How does your lawyer feel about this?”

Nathan wags his brows at you, almost looking proud of himself when he says, “He thinks I’m an idiot.”

“Did you tell him you’re just an asshole and a clown, for sure not an idiot?” You ask, referencing his words from yesterday.

You think it’s a good move but then Nathan exhales a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut. His voice is low, sending a pleasant chill up your spine when he speaks again. “You have to stop or I’m gonna fucking kiss you and we’re not there yet, sweetheart.”

“What if I wanted you to kiss me?”

“Then you’re shit out of luck, because I’ve just decided that you’re gonna kiss me first.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“You already knew that.”

You chuckle softly, can’t argue with that. Tentatively, you raise your hand, patting his where it still cups your cheek. “Anything else before I go do my job?”

“Mmm,” He hums, eyes lighting up as if he’s just thought of something very important. “A question actually.”

“Yes, sir?” You prompt, slipping back into your usual role.

“Did you say the word whore?”

You groan, pushing him away from you. This man is always one breath away from a joke. “Nathan.”

He laughs, stumbling back a little. “Say it again? C’mon, I wanna watch this time.”

“You’re a pervert. I’m going to work,” You say, walking back to his desk to grab the papers you’d brought in before you make your way into the hall.

He sticks his head out of the door, calling after you, “Have lunch with me today? I wanna show you something.”

“Sure, just come get me.”

—

Nathan doesn’t call out your name right away when he makes his way to the lab. He leans up against the door frame, watching you from across the room. You’re typing away, your brow furrowed like it always is when you concentrate hard on something. The alarm you set for lunch should be going off in a few minutes if his watch is correct.

But then your phone rings and your eyes shoot open wide, filled with worry. He shouldn’t listen, but he knows this early on in this relationship? Arrangement? Test? Whatever it is, he knows that you won’t feel comfortable enough to tell him. And while he’s trying, he doesn’t have the patience to wait around, especially if he can do something to help you. Whoever you’re speaking to, you completely skip pleasantries.

“Is she alright? What’s wrong?” You’re keeping your voice down, but he can hear how frantic you are. He wants to cross the room and hold you tight.

“Oh, okay. Sorry, I’m just a little jumpy. Mom hasn’t been responding as much as of lately. Yeah, I know she’s on the mend but still. Thank you, Celia, I’ll see you in a few days.”

Your mother? That might explain why you’re responsible for your family. If your mother’s sick and unresponsive, it’d be impossible for her to take care of your younger sisters. Where was your father? It wouldn’t be a surprise if he walked away or was worthless— Nathan’s father was just the same. But it didn’t stop the anger shooting through him at the thought. You deserved better. You deserved everything.

Nathan gives it a minute or two, watching as you smooth your hands over your face and take a few deep breaths. Then he pretends to walk in without a clue as to what’s just happened.

“You ready?”

You glance up at him, clearly distracted and then your alarm goes off, making you jump. Silencing it quickly you say, “Sorry yeah, just give me a minute to call Emma’s school.”

“Emma?”

“My youngest sister.”

He files that piece of information away for later. “Right. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s all fine. There’s no need to worry,” You reassure him.

“There wouldn’t be if I was just your boss, but we’re trying here, aren’t we?” He asks, pushing a little. He wishes you would talk to him, even when he has no right to that information.

You give him a wary smile, nodding, “Right we’re trying. I just have to change her pick up time. Give me one minute si— Nathan.”

He smiles, feeling good that you felt alright enough to share something with him, even if it’s not the entire story. He could wait as long as you needed him. “Meet me in the living room. Pork or chicken?”

“Pork.”

“Pork for the lady.”

The call with your sister’s school is quick, letting them know that a different adult will be picking your sister up from school. You take the time to wrap a few emails and send them off before making your way to the living room. Nathan’s setting up a chessboard between a couple bamboo steamers.

“What’s all this?” You ask, eyeing everything.

“Soup dumplings and chess,” He says simply.

“Soup dumplings and chess?”

He raises a brow at you, “Yeah, who doesn’t like soup dumplings and chess?”

“I— well— I don’t know how to play chess,” You admit to him softly.

“I was hoping you’d say that sweetheart. Here,” He points to the empty spot next to him on the couch, his eyes lit up like a kid in candy store. You can’t help but notice how adorable he looks with genuine excitement on his face, separated from his work or pissing someone off. It suits him.

“Start eating, I’ll show you the ropes. Pork’s that one,” He murmurs into your ear when you take your place beside him.

It sends another shiver through your spine, and you hope he can’t hear the way that your breath catches. Eat and focus. Eat and focus.

“You know anything about chess at all?”

“Not a thing.”

“People would kill to have me teach them chess, you lucked out honey,” He wags his brows, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, white always starts.”

“Not very progressive,” You mumble around your dumpling.

It sends Nathan into a fit of laughter— he leans back against the couch next to you, his entire body shaking with it. It’s adorable; you like seeing him like this, not so analytical and absorbed in numbers, mechanics, and AI. So guarded.

You can’t help but laugh with him— it’s infectious, but nudge him with your shoulder, “The instructions, Mr. Bateman.”

“Stop distracting me,” He teases, sitting back up. “The pieces: the king, the queen, two rooks, two bishops, a knight, and 8 pawns.”

“All that for me?”

“Hush. They move in certain ways. Do I need to write this down?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Don’t insult me.”

“You’re so fucking cute when you’re angry, have I ever mentioned that before?”

“And you are easily distracted. The instructions, please.”

Nathan focuses then, explaining to you how each piece moves. You listen intently as you eat. The king, a vulnerable piece that can move any direction. The queen can move in any straight line. Rooks are only horizontal and vertical. The pawn moves forward unless it’s capturing an enemy piece. And knights are tricky, moving in a L-shaped pattern. The use of promoting your pawns, the rules of a checkmate, the possibility of a draw.

He raises a brow skeptically at you, “Got it?”

You give him a small nod, finishing your last dumpling before you move to sit across from him. “Got it. You hired me because I’m efficient and competent. And now, Mr. Bateman, I’m going to efficiently beat you at chess.”

Nathan leans in, squeezing your chin between his fingers playfully, “You can dream, baby.”

A little under 30 minutes later, Nathan is scowling and you— well you have that look on your face that has always driven his blood up. Prim and collected, though your mouth is turned up slightly in the corner.

“You’re a fucking liar, you have to be,” Nathan accuses.

“Or maybe, Nathan Bateman isn’t as good at chess as he thinks he is. What was all that talk about people coveting being taught by you?”

“It still stands,” He grumbles, leaning back against the couch with his arms crossed.

“Oh, c’mon don’t prove me right.”

“Prove you right?”

“Not only are you full of yourself but you’re a sore loser too?”

“I’ll show you a sore fucking loser, get over here,” Nathan jumps to his feet, lunging for you.

You just barely dodge him, jumping up in the knick of time. You’re squealing, peels upon peels of laughter that makes Nathan feel like he’s walking on clouds. He chases you through the living room, into the kitchen, until he’s got you nestled against in the corner of some cabinets. His body is a hot line against yours, your chests heaving against each other’s as you look up at him.

Nathan had meant to catch you and tickle you, but now he’s lost his train of thought. He can feel your heart beating erratically in your chest, the swell of your breasts pressing against him with each breath you take. He licks his lips, his eyes flickering down to your cleavage and back up to your eyes. He curses himself— he’d said earlier that you would have to kiss him yet every bone in his body is filled with desire. His ego still outweighs that desire. He wonders when he’ll give that up for you, he knows he will eventually.

“You smell like fucking sin,” He whispers, his pupils blown out with lust.

“Nathan, you don’t know what you're asking for,” You warn him softly, though you’re not sure if the warning is supposed to benefit you or him more. You can feel yourself about to drown in him, whether you’re ready or not.

“You trying to scare me, sweetheart? You think you’re filthier than me? Think you can make my head spin?”

“I know I can,” You breathe.

“Yeah? Have you thought about me?” He blurts out, pressing further against you.

“Thought about—“

He can’t stop talking now. It’s pouring out of him— all the naughty, depraved things he wants to do to you. All the things he would let you do to him.

“Thought about me while you fuck those sweet little fingers in your pussy. Have you, honey? Or is that too filthy? Too taboo, until you knew how I felt about you,” He rasps, one of his hands raising to trail the curve of your jaw.

“Nathan—“ You gasp, feeling like you can hardly breathe. You’ve gone dizzy from the silky sound of his voice, the heat of his presence.

“What’s got you flustered, baby? Are you thinking about it now? Fuck, you know I’m gonna think about this later.”

“L-later?”

He gets his hands on your hips and lifts you up on the counter, allowing himself to slot between your hips, though he has enough mind to control himself. He can’t go as far as he wants, not after he told you he wouldn’t even kiss you, and especially not without your consent. No, you’ll beg him. You both will know how much you want him.

“Later. Later, when I’m under the spray of the shower, I’ll think about you and make myself cum. You like that don’t you, filthy fucking girl?”

“Yes,” You whisper softly, unable to tear your gaze away from his.

He takes your hands into his own, maneuvering yours so that they rest on his chest. He’s broad and firm beneath your fingertips, but there’s no ignoring the way his heart jumps under your touch. You’re affecting him deeply too.

“Louder, honey.”

You clear your throat, and when you speak again your voice is a little louder. “Yes. I— Nathan?”

“Hmm?”

“I should— we—“ You can barely form a coherent thought. But, this is moving far too quickly and fear is rising in your throat like a snake ready to strike. “I should probably get back to work,” You finish lamely.

Work. Fuck. He’d forgotten about the fact that there are piles and piles of things to do, forgot for just a moment that first and foremost he’s your boss and you’re his employee. He takes a step back, causing your hands to fall into your lap. Had he come on too strongly? He hadn’t meant to but he only has so much self-control. Admittedly, a very limited, temperamental amount of self-control. Especially when it comes to you.

He takes a few more steps back, fiddling with the tie on his sweatpants. The uncertainty, that urge to push you away is back. He doesn’t have the strength to resist it. “Sure. Sure, yeah. Sure.”

“Nathan—“

“I should too. Plenty of those fuckers to— fuck around with,” He says clumsily, turning away from you and head back through the living room.

You can’t help but feel guilty, noticing how all the excitement that had been in his eyes disappeared, replaced with anxiety. It’s all true, what he said. You do want him, badly now that you’ve realized the feelings that have laid dormant inside you, waiting to be activated, but you’re afraid to give in to him when he’s hardly shown you that he can change. There are things about Nathan that make him himself, but you won’t sacrifice how you know you should be treated for his quirks and shitty humaning skills no matter their cause. While Nathan is so worried about you breaking his heart, he’s given no thought to the idea that he could break yours.

You find him on your way out, unwilling to leave when things between you feel shakier than usual.

“Hey,” You call out softly, leaning against the doorframe of Nathan’s office, much like he had earlier in the day.

He looks up from where he’s working on what looks to be some sort of arm-like machine. It’s weird to see him doing mechanics in his office and not in one of the labs, but it was clear that he was avoiding you. That you’d hurt his feelings.

“Hey,” He says back cautiously, pushing his glasses up further, back onto the bridge of his nose.

“You okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm.”

You see his shoulders tense even as he feigns disinterest. “What is it?”

“You left sort of abruptly before.”

“You made it clear you wanted to be alone. While I’m known to be a fucking nuisance, I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

“I never said that I didn’t want you, Nathan. In fact, I’m pretty sure my body said the opposite.”

“You never said that you do,” He counters, his voice much sharper than it should be for a sentence that has him showing so much vulnerability. “I don’t give a fuck what your body says, I care what you say.”

You’d never thought about it like that before. You really haven’t explicitly voiced how you feel about him. Sure, you had agreed to trying whatever this is going on between the two of you, but you’d been pretty logical and combative even then. He’s right again when it comes to physical chemistry— clearly it’s there between you, but it only goes so far. Nathan wants to hear that you want him too. That can’t be so hard can it? It’s not as if you have to show your entire hand. You don’t have to tell him how you’ve begun to fall in the span of a day…

You make your way to his desk, pointing at him, “Let me on there, please.”

His brows shoot up. He sounds scared, maybe nervous is the better word. “On where?”

“Your lap.”

“Fuck no, I’ll get hard,” He admits with no reservation.

“Are you afraid of erections, Mr. Bateman?” You ask evenly, your face pieced into that blank expression you know that’ll make him laugh.

He smiles, shaking his head. “You’re more of a fucker than I thought. Here.”

When you climb into his lap, draping your legs over the side, your ass firmly on his thighs he can’t help himself; he has to touch you. One of his hands drops to your ankle, tracing the delicate bones there, while the other comes to rest on your back. He regards you with wary, inquisitive eyes.

“I didn’t say it before because I thought it was obvious when I agreed. But, I realize how…vulnerable you’ve been and how reluctant I may come off. I want you Nathan. I do. I just— this is better slow.”

“You’re saying I have to have patience? You’re gonna be the death of me you know that?” He whispers.

“Nathan Bateman dies from learning various virtues.” You notice the way he goes slightly stiff against you, and quickly return to the subject at hand. You came here to ease him, not to make him second guess himself again, “I mean it though. I want you. And when I go home, I’m going to think about all the nasty things you said to me in the kitchen.”

His breathing hitches. He’d be more embarrassed if he wasn’t so transfixed with how erotic your words sound, even as you say them in that soft, polite voice you reserve for working. “What’re you going to do with them?”

You squint, like you’re thinking so deeply about the question he’s asked you. “I’m not quite sure yet, I have a lot of methods to choose from. Rain check?” You ask, nonchalant.

His mind starts to run. He can picture it— all of your clothes hung up prim and proper in your closet. A shoe rack, not a shoe out of place. A small dresser tucked inside with a box on top, stuffed full of toys and vibrators and dildos that you fuck yourself with. He can see you shivering and shaking with pleasure, wiggling your hips, taking it so well. His cock aches and shifts beneath you, painfully aware of how warm and soft the curve of your ass is in his lap.

“Fuck you.”

You grin, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek that makes him tremble— now he’s embarrassed.

—

You weren’t kidding about teaching him patience. It’s never taken Nathan this long to get to first base in life, and he’s never been so easily aroused. It’s driving him fucking insane. Even when you’re gone the ghost of you lingers; your warm, caring touches here and there, the smell of your perfume, the teasing thoughts you put in his mind. That goddamn box that he doesn’t even know truly exists. It’s been weeks, and you still haven’t kissed him. His dick is raw, his ego hanging on by a thread, his mind shot, his heart the most tender it’s ever been. He would be pissed at you if it didn’t feel so good.

It’s almost the end of the day when he walks in, resting his hands on either side of you, his chin propped on your shoulder as you type away.

You continue on as usual, “How can I help you, Mr. Bateman?”

“Guess what?” He whispers salaciously into your ear, feeling very satisfied with himself when he feels you shiver.

“Hmm?” You hum.

“We’re taking the day off tomorrow.”

“Are we?”

“We are.”

“Do you know how much we have to do?” You remind him.

“I’m the fucking boss, of course I know.”

“And you— said fucking boss, your words not mine— looked at the pile and said, yes we can afford a day off.”

“Mathematically, yes we can.”

You shift slightly, so that you can turn to face him, causing him to widen his stance as you hum, “Hmm.”

“We’re taking the day off to spend time together. Like a normal couple.”

“Even if we were a couple, I think we’d be far from normal.”

“Ouch.”

“You make robots for a living,” You reach for his face, giggling at the tickle of his beard when you grab his cheeks and smoosh them.

“So I’m the fucking weirdo in this thing?” Nathan frowns at you with feigned offense, though he lets you smoosh it away with your hold on his cheeks.

You turn his head this way and that way, as if you’re observing him to be sure. “Obviously. But, I like you that way.”

You feel the way his cheeks fighting against your hand, begging to smile. You let go, and he grins, “Do you now?”

“Yes,” You say, uncharacteristically bashful, it has Nathan’s grin spreading wider, his cheeks aching.

“You’ll like me more when I take you out tomorrow.”

Your eyes light up more than he’s expecting, and you lean in, “Out? Like out?”

“Just a hike…but you want that. To go out,” He’s not asking, and he doesn’t sound completely excited about the prospect either you notice.

Nathan’s stomach drops. When’s the last time he’d left his property? He’s not really sure—before you time sort of melded together, waxing and waning in a way that didn’t matter to him. But, the look on your face, he wants to be the reason for it over and over again. He puts that on the list of things to work towards under affection, vulnerability, ego taming. The list goes on and on. But, he doesn’t mind.

“I haven’t been on a real date in years.”

“Ouch again, fuck me, you really get off on humbling me don’t you?”

“Amongst other things.”

“I’ll work on it,” He says vaguely.

“Only if you’re sure.”

“Of the two of us, seems like I’ve been the most sure.”

You couldn’t argue with that— you haven’t been very forthcoming about how your feelings for him are developing, not really anyways— but it doesn’t take away the sting. You could tell him, clue him in a little, but you haven’t even kissed him yet. Maybe then.

“Tell me about tomorrow,” You say, wanting a distraction from your thoughts.

“I told you— a hike. We can eat by the waterfall or something.”

“I never took you for a romantic.”

He laughs, nuzzling his way back into your shoulder, “Trust me sweetheart, me fucking either.”

“Should I get here at the normal time?”

“Bright and fucking early, baby. Dress appropriately,” He murmurs, kissing you on the cheek before he heads back out into the hallway.

Your cheek feels like it’s buzzing with heat and you bite away your grin.

—

It’s October in Seattle, perfect for a hike. The leaves are changing— though the pine looks all the same. But Nathan has a few trees close to the property that give that autumn feeling. You come dressed in leggings, a light hoodie and hiking boots given the varying terrain of the forests surrounding him.

As soon as you walk through the door, Nathan’s eyes are on you. He’s in a black windbreaker and loose jeans and somehow that look is really doing it for you.

Nathan feels the same way about you, the first words out of his mouth are, “Fucking Christ.”

You look around, a little alarmed, “What? What is it?”

“You, it’s you honey. Stay at least 5 feet away from me.”

“Is 5 feet really doing much?”

“6 feet is too far,” He reasons, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes though he seems sincere.

“You’ve been patient so far. My changing clothes can’t possibly be a dealbreaker,” You tease, making your way further into the house.

“You’re woefully unaffected by the way your ass looks in those tight little pants. Me on the other hand—“

“Nathan.”

“Come here,” He lunges out, reaching for you hand so that he can wrench you closer.

“Don’t you dare,” You squeal, squirming in his hold.

“Just let me—“ His hands hover over your ass but don’t touch, squeezing the air as he groans like he’s in pain.

“You’re so fucking weird.”

He gazes down at you over his glasses, “Did you just cuss at me?”

You fix him with the most innocent look you can manage, “I would never, Mr. Bateman. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I know what gaslighting is, honey.”

“Everyone knows what gaslighting is, Nathan.”

“Terrible of you to use such well known tactics to try winning your little games?” He’s close now, your chests brushing each others’. You inhale a deep breath, overwhelmed by his pine scent, by his proximity. Nathan can tell, it makes his stomach flip in the best way. “You okay there, honey?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, raising your hand to run it down his chest. His eyes flutter at your touch and you smile softly up at him. “I’m alright. Should we go?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

—

Nathan says that the goal for lunch is a meadow tucked far into the forest. He says there’s a small pond there, and patches of flowers here and there in the summer. It sounds like a dream— you can’t hide your surprise that someone like him would frequent a place so ethereal.

“Hey— I appreciate nature and the environment and all that bullshit.”

“I know, but I never took you as a woodland nymph,” You murmur, trailing slightly behind him through the trees.

He snorts, throwing a glance over his shoulder at you, “I’m a lonely man in the forest.”

“That’s more evil wizard than anything else. But, now I’m picturing you frolicking in a field of tall grass. Flowers in your beard.”

“I don’t fucking frolic,” He grumbles, trying to bite away his smile.

“You could.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get tired of the robots.”

You’re making your way back the way you came, bellies, bodies tingling from beneath the tree cuddles. Nathan is walking leisurely through the trees, letting his palms run over branches and bark when it happens. He doubles over, screaming and you rush to his side.

“Fuck. Shit. Fucking—“ He cuts himself off, biting down on his lip with a groan.

You drop to your knees, sliding your backpack off so that you can open it. “Hey, come here. Come here. I brought a first aid kit.”

He sounds angry when he speaks, but you know that he’s just in pain. “Of course you fucking did. Fuck. Splinter’s are a bitch.”

“I should be able to get it out. Just come here,” You tug on his jeans, a silent ask for him to join you on the forest floor.

Nathan sits in front of you, propping himself up on a tree and holding out his hand to you. His brow is furrowed, face wrinkled in pain even as you say that he’s trying to be brave about. He’s pissed off— Nathan fucking Bateman taken down by a splinter. You words soothe him only a bit.

“Be gentle,” He murmurs worriedly as you take his hand.

“I will. It’s alright, Nathan, just relax.”

He glares at you, “Relax? I’ve got a—“

You cut him off, your voice stern but gentle, “Relax, baby.”

Nathan melts under your endearing term— its the first time you’ve ever called him that and he wants to hear it over and over again. Thank god for this splinter if this is what it got him. He nods quietly, relaxing back against the tree as he waits for you to start mending him.

You set the first aid kit open on the ground before straddling Nathan’s thighs— it’s easier this way to maneuver him, yes, and maybe just maybe you want to be in his lap again. Even with that bit of desire, you focus on the task at hand, finding the set of tweezers in the kit to gently remove the splinter. Cleaning and disinfecting the wound, letting him squeeze your hip with his other hand when the alcohol stings.

“There. You did great,” You whisper as you apply a bandage to his finger. You lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “How’s it feel now?”

“Feels alright,” He mumbles. There’s an unfamiliar feeling in his chest, an uncomfortable shyness he’s not used to. “Look, I uh—,” He hesitates, looking down at where his hand sits in yours, where your thighs are locked together with his.

“What is it?”

Nathan looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. On him, on anybody and the rest of your reserves melt away. You’re his. How could you resist him when his eyes look like chocolate, rounded and so fragile at the simple thought of someone helping him get a splinter out. It breaks your heart. It makes you want to patch his back together.

“No one’s ever—“

You cut him off, surging forward to press your lips to his. You try really hard to keep it sweet and soft, but there’s no denying the current that pulses through a kiss like this. It’s hungry. Ravenous. Nathan moans into your mouth, his hands falling to knead your hips as he lets you kiss him. With access like that, you lick into his mouth, eager for taste after taste of him— you can still taste the cranberry juice he drank at lunch, a hint of some extra sweetness. Because of course a man as inflammatory and closed off as Nathan Bateman would taste as sweet as confectioner sugar.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” You whisper against him. Your hands trail up his stomach and chest, the fuzz of his hair tickling your palms as you guide his head back the way you’d like.

He whimpers, easily succumbing to your will, his grip going a little weak on your hips as his mind grows cloudier, dizzier. You’re fucking intoxicating. Better than any beer or wine that’s touched his lips, than acid or weed. You’re what he wants, what he needs. Always. Forever.

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina #feeling fed #<3

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 7 hours

Text

In Plain Sight, Ch 3: The Tempest

summary: nathan makes his intentions clear and as always…is a bit of an asshole while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nerves, SIBLINGSSSS, mentions of care taking/sick relative, first date?? (after the fact), Nathan being A MEGA SIMPPPPPP

wc: 3,446

an: we get to meet reader’s sisters in this, both of which i love very very much! you also get a bit of reader’s background. and of course, nathan’s attempt at asking someone out. hope y’all enjoy and always thanks for reading! <3

in plain sight masterlist | part 4 | phart 5

Sleep last night was difficult…and interesting. It took you a while to fall asleep, your nerves feeling a little frazzled once you’d gotten in the car and started to think about how you were going to have dinner with Nathan. You’ve spent plenty of time alone with him, but within the boss-employee dynamic. This dinner he’s asked you to could still be that— but you wouldn’t have your usual protections. No pressing questions, no tasks, no screens to hide behind. You and him. And food. When’s the last time you shared a meal with someone other than your sisters?

Once you’d finally succumbed to sleep, your dreams were of him. It felt like nothing and everything all at once. Nathan was there. You’ve never dreamt of him before. You were in Nathan’s house— except it was clear that neither of you were working. You watched a movie together cuddling on the couch, cooked a meal, and took a walk through the forest. While the thought of that would never appeal to you in real life when you wake, there’s a peaceful feeling lingering. It’s a little unsettling.

You hop out of bed before you can allow yourself to start assigning meaning to the dream. It was simply that— a dream. A product of your nerves, and spending nearly every waking moment dedicated to learning, organizing and managing all the aspects of Nathan’s life.

You get caught up in your ungodly long morning routine. Breakfast and tea with your mom as you read from her favorite poetry book, picking your sisters’ lunches, showering. Pressing your sisters’ uniforms. Making sure your mother has everything she needs before the time gap it takes for the nurse to arrive. Writing out a to do list for when you get home and setting out your comfortable clothing. Once everything’s set you change out of your robe and into your work clothes. You’re spending too much time in front of the mirror, fidgeting and analyzing yourself. There’s no need to look perfect, it’s just Nathan. Mr. Bateman, you should call him even in your head for separation.

“You look extra pretty today,” Your youngest sister, Emma, mumbles sleepily from her place in your bed.

You smooth out your skirt for the millionth time, looking over your shoulder at her, “Yeah, you think so Em?”

She yawns, raising a fist to rub at her eye. “You did your hair all nice and you’re wearing a skirt.”

“I wear skirts all the time,” You reason with her (and maybe a little with yourself).

“Not the pretty one.”

You cross the room, leaning in to tickle her, “Hey— are you saying all my other skirts are ugly?”

Emma bursts into a fit of giggles, doing her best to twist away from you. “Stop it,” She wheezes.

“Take it back and I’ll stop,” You reason with her, unable to stop your own laughter.

“I’m sorry, I take it back,” She whines, thrashing playfully beneath you.

“You’re safe for now, little one. Do you want me to make you some oatmeal before I go?”

“Can you eat it with me?” Emma asks, hopeful.

“No, honey, I’ve got to go. But, I’ll be home early tonight. We can watch a movie, how does that sound.”

Emma’s quiet for a few moments, obviously disappointed but then she nods, and cracks a sad smile. You lean in to kiss her forehead, hugging her close.

“Go brush your teeth and I’ll make your breakfast.”

“Do you think sister wants to eat with me?”

It takes effort for you not to cringe. Of course Emma wants to spend time with her other sister, but it seems like Phil is in her fuck any and everyone phase. You’ll try to get through to her though, if not for her own sake, then for Emma’s. A 7 year old shouldn't be spending so much time alone, not when some of her family is right here.

“I’ll ask her. If not, you can go sit with momma, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, little, up up. To the bathroom you go.”

You both stand, and you take her hand, dropping her off at the bathroom on your way to Phil’s room. To your surprise, the girl is already on up and on her phone when you crack the door.

She frowns, letting out a little sigh. “What?”

“Emma wants you to have breakfast with her.”

Phil rolls her eyes, not bothering to look over at you, “I’m not hungry.”

“Phillipa, you should eat. And you should always be excited to spend time with your sister.”

“She’s whiny.”

You cross the room, coming to sit beside her on the bed, “So are you.”

“Yeah and I have reason to be,” She murmurs defiantly.

“And she doesn’t?”

She grows quiet then, her thumb that had been continuously scrolling stopping in its tracks.

“Even if you don’t eat, could you just sit with her?” You ask, knowing that her shell has cracked a little.

“Fine, whatever,” She breathes.

“I’m making her a yogurt bowl. Do you want one?”

“No,” She says quickly, trying to feign uninterest. “Unless we have chocolate chips.”

“We have chocolate chips. And marshmallow fluff.”

“Then I guess I’ll have one.”

“Thank you. I’ll leave some money so you can get one of those fancy coffees from the place near your school. Will you pick a movie for us to watch today?”

“You’re coming home?”

“I should be here by 6…7 at the latest.”

“Oh. Okay,” She says, feigning disinterest.

“That’s all I get? An oh okay? Maybe I should tell Mr. Bateman I can work late.”

“No! You’re never home, c’mon don’t do that.”

“I’m excited to hang out with you too,” You say teasingly, leaning over to rest your head on her shoulder. Surprisingly, she lets you stay there.

“Can I make brownies?”

“As long as you let Emma help.”

“Of course I’ll let her help.”

“You have to be patient with her,” You remind her gently.

“I know, I know. Like you were with me,” She whispers thoughtfully. Sometimes you don’t think you give her enough credit.

“I love you Phillipa. You’re her big sister you know? I’m gone so much trying to make everything work here. She’s looking up to you. She thinks you’re the coolest person in the world.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Can I make her yogurt bowl and you make mine?”

“Sure, sweet girl. Let’s go.”

—

Nathan has never described himself as antsy. Impatient maybe, against delayed gratification sure. Antsy brings a connotation he’s not used to— nerves, a power struggle he’s on the losing side of, and lack of confidence. And while all of that feels true right now he still doesn’t want to admit it. He’s sitting at his desk, waiting for you to get in. His brow is sweaty because he’s been pacing back and forth, changing his mind about where he should be.

Eager to see you, he’d started in your office which is based in one of his many labs. It only took 10 minutes of him pacing in there to think that he was coming on too strong. It led him to the living room, but after sitting for a few minutes lounging at 6:30 in the morning when you were clocking in felt like it would be a slap in the face. He tried the patio, the kitchen, and eventually ended up back in his office.

He’d felt a little good about himself, the fact that he was thinking about this in a way that doesn’t just involve him and his desires. It was one of the reasons he’d realized what was happening to him. He’s doing his best at balancing his protective shell and showing you what he could be. What the two of you could be together.

Nathan loses his breath when you first come up on the camera, walking into your office. He’s always thought you were beautiful but today it seems like you tried to be. That could be his wishful thinking. Either way, he can’t take his eyes off you. You’re wearing a skirt he’s never seen before. A little shorter, a little pleated. It has his mind wandering off to places it shouldn’t, but it’s not like it hasn’t before. He can’t wait to get in the shower long after you left, and imagine what it would feel like to slip you out of it.

He stares…and stares…and stares until he realizes that an hour and half has gone by and he’s done nothing but give himself blue balls while watching you type away on your computer. Fuck, he’s completely at your mercy.

He pings you. Maybe that’ll make it worse, having you right in front of him like this. But, he needs to see you to scratch whatever itch this is in him today. There’s work too, a few things he needs to give to you to file away or mail out.

“Good morning, Mr. Bateman.”

He usually likes it when you call him that— especially when he’s imagining you say it while he runs his hands all over your body, all dirty and forbidden. Today is different. Something about it makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat. With dinner today, his first real shot at trying to know you as something other than his employee. As an outsider like everyone else.

“Would it kill you to call me Nathan?” He asks, raising a brow though his mouth is a little pouty.

It takes everything in you not to laugh. He looks ridiculous when he’s disgruntled. “That would be unprofessional, sir. Are those for me?”

“Yeah, they’re for you. We still on for dinner?”

The words make your stomach flip. Not because you don’t want to, but because you do. Because words like that aren’t supposed to come out of your boss’ mouth. They’re too casual, too much like the one’s men you used to swipe through on your phone said.

“Yes, I’m still able to have dinner with you, sir. Am I able to leave early?” You ask, reaching for the stack of files.

“You can leave whenever you want.”

Your mouth pulls up into a half-smile, and you nod. “Thank you, Mr. Bateman.”

Nathan leaves you be for the rest of the day. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, or be too clingy, something he’s never worried about before. He spends most of the day with the chef, yelling at him that he’s making everything all wrong— too salty or sweet or slimy or acidic— until it’s perfect. He needs it to be perfect. And once it is, he appears in the doorway of the lab your office is in, calling out to you in an uncharacteristically soft manner.

You inhale softly as you two make your way to the kitchen, the smell of familiar herbs and spices in the air. “Italian?”

“Compiled some data— this seemed like the smartest choice.”

“Compiled some data? On me?”

“I compile data on everyone. I need to learn.”

“What could you possibly have to learn about me?”

“Everything. You’re really fucking secretive.”

“I’m not secretive, I’m private,” You reason.

Nathan snorts, looking at you with an expression of disbelief, “You have to realize that those things are the same.”

“They’re not,” You counter before thinking better of it.

This is why you were quiet and avoided him as much as possible— Philippa isn’t the only one in your family with a streak of defiance. Denying authority runs in your blood, it has taken you years to quell it.

“They are if somebody’s trying to get to know you.”

“And that’s what you’re doing, Mr. Bateman? Trying to get to know me?”

He shrugs, feeling a little too unsettled— a little too nervous to reveal his intentions so early on.

“What did you learn with this data you compiled on me?”

“That you like noodle dishes of all kinds, but preferably Italian. And chocolate.”

There are two places settings sat at the corner of the table, a few bowls of various pastas, salads and breads. Dinner is surprisingly calm. He asks you simple, noninvasive questions about your past. He knows where you went to school and what past jobs you’ve had, but he asks you how you felt about them, if you made friends. He asks for your favorite movies and bands, supplying his own when you ask the same questions. It’s the most benign conversation you’ve ever had with him and it feels…good.

He surprises you when he says, “This. Again. Maybe next week?”

Your mouth goes flat with confusion, “You want to have dinner with me again, sir?”

“Nathan,” He suggests, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes narrowing. “If this is some sort of joke, I don’t appreciate it, Nathan.”

Sweet, sweet music to his ears. Even with the attitude in your voice, Nathan drinks in every drop of his name on your tongue. In fact, he thinks the edge makes it better— it makes his blood hot. It makes him want you.

He leans closer, peering at you from over his glasses. “I’m an asshole and a clown, a shitty combination but what I’m not is an idiot, sweetheart. I wouldn’t joke about this,” His face is earnest as he speaks.

But, what does that even mean when it comes to him? You’re not completely sure. What’s worse is that you don’t know if your stomach is flipping at the idea of him telling the truth or disappointment that he may not be. The latter is what scares you most. When did you start to care about him like that?

“You— are you— you’re— you want to date me?”

Nathan bites his tongue for several seconds. He can’t say that he wants to do more than date you. He wants to consume you, to worship you, to spread you across this table and drink from between your legs until you whine and beg him for mercy. He can’t do any of that— not yet at least.

He settles for, “Yes.”

With his affirmative response, with nowhere to hide you look down at your empty plate, trying to process what’s happening. If this is true and he wants to date you, was this your first date? First dates are consensual, and while you had agreed to this dinner with him you hadn’t even been aware of your feelings at the time. Surely you couldn’t date your boss. It’s the total opposite of what you’d been trying to do— keep a low radar and be as competent and professional as possible to keep your family on the right path. You wouldn't jeopardize that for the hot, broad, bearded man sitting in front of you, even if he was looking at you with those gooey brown eyes. How long had you pretended you didn’t see him? How wide he is, how his shirts cling to his shoulders and chest, how sometimes when he comes straight to the lab after boxing his pheromones have you wanting to rut against him like an animal in heat.

You inhale a sharp breath, horrified and surprised by the thoughts racing through your head. It’s like he had unlocked a vault of vulgarities.

Finally, you look at him, apologetic, “Nathan…I can’t. I can’t do something that.”

Nathan notices right away that you didn’t deny feeling anything, and for now that’s enough. It’s an in. And if he’s not mistaken he hears a breathiness in your tone, hunger in your eyes.

“Why?”

“You’re my boss,” You say simply. It seems rather straightforward but Nathan frowns at you in confusion. For a man with such a big brain he could miss the mark sometimes. It would be endearing if it didn’t drive you a little nuts. Okay, maybe it’s both.

“What’s that gotta do with anything?”

“If it went poorly—“

“You think I would fire you over my ego?”

“Quite frankly, yes. I’ve seen how you treat people.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” He insists firmly. He knows it’s true, he just had to convince you.

“How would you know?”

“Because I know.”

“And if I say that’s not good enough? My entire family is dependent on me. On the money I make. I can’t and won’t put that at risk.”

Nathan scoffs, “There is no risk. I’m sure.”

“What if I’m not sure?”

“What’s that gotta do with how I feel?”

“Everything.”

“Nothing. It’s got nothing to do with how I feel, wanna know why? Because I put my ass on the line asking you here, not knowing how the fuck you feel about me. You’re the most elusive, sweet, competent…fucking arousing woman I’ve ever met. I’m spoken for.”

“Prove it,” You challenge.

This time he’s sure. He can hear how winded you sound and he knows that he’s affecting you. He wants to clear the table, crawl across and fuck you until neither of you can think. He’s getting ahead of himself.

“Prove it?”

“A trial of you showing me that all of what you said is true. We can spend more time together, but no commitments, and if it doesn’t work out I keep my job.”

“You sure? You’re gonna fall in love with me,” He warns, his grin mischievous.

“And you’re gonna have to work for it. Have you ever had to court a woman, Mr. Bateman?”

“No, sounds like I’ve got a lot of research to do. I’m a fast learner.”

“That you are.”

“Do you want to know your choices for dessert?”

“There’s choices?”

“Four.”

You grow thoughtful for a moment, before saying, “All of them. Bring me all of them.”

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face— if he wasn’t in love with you already he is now. You allow yourself to look at him, to really look at him. And like this, his teeth white and shiny, eyes crinkled in the corners, warm brown eyes he looks sweet. Lovable. Like he could one day be yours. You won’t get your hopes up, not yet.

—

Nathan walks you to your car. It’s strange, much sweeter than you anticipating him being, but you did tell he had to work for it. You unlock the car with your remote and he gets your door. He ushers you in. He takes your hand and kisses it, his full beard tickling your skin in a way that makes your thoughts go hot and filthy.

“Drive safe for fucks sake.”

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You murmur in that soft little voice.

Nathan raises a brow at you as he leans against the car. “Are you sassing your boss?”

“No. I’m sassing the man that claims he wants to pursue me.”

“I hate to break it to you, but those are the same man, sweetheart,” He teases with a grin.

“Not if he’s gonna get it together, and prove it.”

“Touché. Let me know when you get home?”

“Keeping tabs on me already?”

“I— I always wonder,” He admits softly, and as you peer at him, you notice a soft flush in his cheeks.

He’s going to be the death of you, isn’t he? Getting all soft and sweet and flustered. You want to grab him by the collar and kiss him until his chest heaves with arousal and he cums in his pants. Instead you say: “I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” He takes a step away from the car, trying his best not to show how pleased he is with your agreement.

He feels like a walking raw nerve. You hold his future in your hands— his happiness, his sanity. It’s unhealthy and scary, how much control you have over him. But this time, he knows that the person is worthy. You’re worth any pain you could cause him, and that’s solidified by the way you grin up at him. It’s the brightest thing he’s ever seen. You looking at him like this, your saccharine smile, eyes full of mirth has his brain liquifying.

He grits his teeth at the way you’ve turned him into some Shakespearean loser. He could wax day in and day out about you. Write lines upon lines of code that would program nothing but his feelings for you. It’s stupidly perfect. He wants this with no one else. There is just you. Part of him is convinced that it’s always been you. He’s been on trajectory, making his way to you with every single decision. Fuck Bluebook. Fuck robots and their fake brains and gangly synthetic limbs. Fuck his data. Fuck all of his accomplishments. There’s just you.

“See you tomorrow, Nathan.”

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 7 hours

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In Plain Sight, Ch 2: A Hoard of Cupids

summary: nathan’s much more insightful about you than he used to be. it’s making you uneasy…and curious.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nathan trying to be nice but he’s so abrasive lol, pining, mentions of caretaking/sick family members, mentions of emotionally abusive parents, masturbation (m), sub!nathan if you squint

wc: 2,745

AN: back at it with part twoooo. thank you all for the kind words and support on this fic, i didn’t expect it to get the response it did but i’m really excited to give y’all the rest. fair warning that these chapters seem to be getting longer as i write on. happy reading!

in plain sight masterlist | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan gives you space— at first. When you return the next day at 7 a.m. sharp he’s nowhere to be found. Not in the living room or in the kitchen, not on his patio boxing. You assume he’s in his room, probably toying with one of his bots in a distasteful manner. The idea makes you shudder. But is it not easier to come to work with every task he could want you to do placed on his desk, no fuss?

You don’t like Nathan Bateman. He’s a pompous asshole, a know it all, a man who thinks only about his own desires. When he apologized— or rather attempted to— yesterday you thought that maybe you slipped and fallen down the stairs on your way out. By his standards, it was a top tier apology. You’d never once heard him apologize to anyone. On your drive home you had wondered if he had ever apologized in his life. The thought made you giggle, and then you’d turned up the music and forgotten about him until right now.

Sat at your desk, an ungodly stack of things to do. There’s a note sat on top. It’s simple and straightforward, lacking emotion but somehow still has your stomach flipping. It reads:

In meetings all day— let me know if you need anything. Go home early today.

Mr. Bateman

P.S. I’ll spruce up my apologizing skills.

You regard the note cautiously, raising your brow at it before you let yourself laugh a little. Was this a joke or had Nathan Bateman taken some criticism to heart (which is rumored to not exist). You fold the note up, and for some reason slip it into your bag.

The last thing that’s on your mind is that Nathan’s watching you. He sits in the dark at his monitors, leaning in closely. His eyes trace your figure on the screens intensely, watching as you read and read and read. He expects no reaction from you beside maybe throwing it in the trash. But then you laugh, and he watches you store it for safekeeping. A piece of him will go home with you. Nathan never thought he’d be jealous of a piece of paper, not when he seems to have the entire world at his fingertips.

—

He returns to his normal behavior after a week— partially because he thinks you settled in. And partially because…well he begrudgingly can admit to himself, in the comfort of his own mind, that he misses you. When you get to work the next Monday he’s sat on an observation table, examining what looks like a deconstructed robot brain.

You aren’t even able to open your mouth and say good morning before he’s talking to you.

“Are you sleeping okay?” He asks, his eyes appraising you intensely.

You stop in your tracks, regarding him as always, your expression pieced into that calm expression. So you’re back to normal, none of that fire. He expected it but that doesn’t keep him from feeling disappointed.

“Sir?”

“You look really fucking tired. Exhausted,” He tacts on for good measure.

Your spine goes completely rigid, your grip on your bag tightening. You are tired. So very tired. You work shitty hours for incredible money and then go home to take care of your younger sisters and mother. Dealing with Nathan is for them. For your sisters’ schooling, so they won’t feel left out when the other kids have the newest gadget or shoes. For your mother’s ever piling medical bills. It’s important that you don’t jeopardize something so precious.

“Is it affecting my work? Have I done something wrong?” You ask him softly.

“No— that’s not why I’m—“ He stutters before closing his mouth and starting anew. You’ve never seen him like this. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was flustered. But knowing Nathan, he’s just never asked a single employee he’s ever had if they’re alright. “I’m your boss, I worry about your well being. That’s what good bosses do.”

“Are you sure?” You ask evenly, eyes still trained on him.

“Am I—“ He stops, eyes wide for a fraction of a second before he bites away his smile. “Are you fucking with me?”

If he was looking at you so intentionally he would miss the way your mouth twitches. “I’m fine, Mr. Bateman. I have a lot of responsibilities, not only here but out there as well.”

“Out there?”

“The real world. Thank you for the concern, sir.”

For the second time, you’ve rendered Nathan speechless. That night he lays in bed thinking of you, like many nights prior. He turns your words over in his head time and time again. The real world. Do you think he doesn’t know what it’s like out there? He wonders how much research you’d done for the job. Nathan used his brain to get here, climbing and climbing. He hadn’t been born into this but his personality lent itself to such a conclusion. Nathan knows what his real world used to look like, though one day he hopes that any of his contraptions can help him forget. He wonders what your real world looks like.

There’s no ring on your finger, but you could have a partner. Kids? Another job? He pays you well enough for that to not be necessary. Maybe you volunteer at a puppy shelter. He could picture it. You in something other than your stuffy work clothes, a smile on your face as you drown in puppy breath and slobber.

He groans, rolling over in bed to plant his face deeply in the pillow. Maybe he can smother himself out of this. Thinking about puppies? He might as well be one, he’s practically lovesick if you have him thinking like this. When would he get used to feeling this way? His usual cynical thoughts feel like they’re being pillaged by a hoard of cupids.

He doesn’t even know if you feel the same. Being better for you is one thing, but what if there’s no payoff? What if he changes for you and you leave him high and dry? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He feels the back of his neck sweating and sits up.

Nathan’s been down this road before, it’s brought him his fortune and an insane work ethic. It’s all brought him sorrow he’ll never be able to escape. Being with his parents feels like a fever dream sometimes and other times he feels 6 again, like he’s drowning in their expectations and insults, trying to measure up. He’d given up eventually, once he realized that they would never love him the way parents should. Why try to do anything anyone wanted but himself when they could still treat him poorly for it?

He’s the way he is from his own indoctrination. He doesn’t know where he would be if he hadn’t convinced himself that he was the only person that truly matters.

But, now there’s you. You, who looks so soft, you that scratches an itch he didn’t even realize he had. You, that he wants to goad and prod and poke until you unleash all of yourself on him. He closes his eyes and lays back, envisioning you right here with him. He feels insane, his heart— his mind, his dick— are taking him through a whirlwind of emotions right now.

He palms himself through his boxers, eyes squeezing shut tighter than before as he tries to narrate. He pictures you in one of his white shirts, it’s fabric nearly see-through with the way it clings to your breasts. He grasps his length through his boxers letting out a heaving sigh. Fuck he wishes this was you.

If there’s anything that Nathan knows how to do its not only being smartest but the most imaginative. He’s been daydreaming for as long as he can remember. Universes with better outcomes— having worth, or loving parents or anyone for that matter. Anyone to be on his side. He imagined codes and synthetic body parts that live and breathe in front of him. He can surely imagine you, breathy and horny in his bed, jerking him off. He doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, or inappropriate. He wants you, and maybe this is the only way he can have you. He slides his boxers down, finally done teasing himself. Licking his palm, he grabs his cock, starts stroking and succumbs to the thought of you.

Another moan bubbles out of his throat. He can see your nipples through his shirt when you straddle him like this. Your thighs are soft against his own and he would reach for your free hand, thread his fingers through your own. Your hands are smaller than his, smooth and supple. And god, you’re stroking him just the way he likes it, the soft wet sound making pleasure shoot through his groin.

You’d overstimulate him wouldn’t you? With that clever mouth barely pulling up a grin, eyes full of fire as you stroke him past the point of pleasure. Would you make him watch? See the way your hands would grow slick and shiny with his cum as you kept pumping and pumping, pushing him to another release. Covering you both in him, until you’re too needy to keep toying with him. Nathan cums just as he’s imagining the feeling of you dragging your bare pussy against his sensitive cock. He whines and keens off the bed, the high singing in his veins. He swears he can almost imagine the way you would moan.

His eyes open, the spell broken. He’s alone, covered in his own spend, chest heaving like he just ran a 10k. He avoids his reflection when he walks into the bathroom to clean up. His loneliness spikes again and he heads to the kitchen, reaching for the first bottle he can find.

—

“You’re late,” He says stiffly, crossing his arms as he watches you cross the space to sit at your desk.

The day after he’d gotten off thinking of you he’d had the slightest difficulty looking at you. It quickly faded, he was too greedy. Too needy, if he’s being honest. He can’t get enough, he doesn’t know if he could ever say it but you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You’re openly frazzled; your shirt isn’t tucked in, your hair is a little more frizzy than usual and you look as tired as ever. He regrets his biting tone immediately.

Even as you explain you’re moving, setting your to-go mug on the desk, fetching your calendar, booting up your computer. “I know, I’m sorry, Mr. Bateman. My sisters were less than cooperative this morning.”

Nathan turns completely away from the bins he’s been searching through, raising a brow at you in surprise, “Your sisters?”

“Yes— one is 7 the other is 14. The little made getting out of the house…difficult,” You murmur distractedly, eyes trained on your screen.

“Isn’t that your parents’ fucking job?”

His question snaps you back to the present— you hadn’t shared nearly as much as you could’ve. But you’d gone into this job wanting to be nameless and faceless. Memorable only for the quality of the work you do.

You shake your head, daring a quick glance in his direction that you immediately regret when your eyes meet his.“I realized that I’ve shared far too much about my personal life. I should work, Mr. Bateman.”

Nathan immediately understands your deflecting. How many times has he been asked by reporters and interviewers where his family is? Enough times that he’s had his publicist strike the topic from the acceptable lists. That was about all he was good for anyway, Nathan says what he wants when he wants.

He goes back to the task at hand— though now with you here he doesn’t quite remember what that was. A part…some sort of part that he needed. Wires? Screws? A metal plate? He sighs in frustration and leaves without another word.

Your gaze is on the door as soon as it shuts, making sure he’s gone. The tears that you’ve been biting back fall and you bury your face in your hands. Your youngest sister had begged and pleaded for you to stay warm in bed with her this morning. With your mother so sick, you’ve practically raised her yourself these last few years. It makes her needy, which you understand. But what she doesn’t understand is how delicate the balance you found in caring for your entire family is. Middle sister lacks just as much understanding, with heaps of attitude. She doesn’t want to snuggle with you or with younger sister. Mediating this entire situation is what made you late.

It feels like you’re cracking under the pressure but that isn’t an option, is it? As if the universe wants to make it clear, your computer chimes. It’s Nathan, asking you to come to his office.

—

He’d meant to go clear his head in his office and come back to get whatever part he was in need of. But, when he sat in his chair he was met with the sight of you hunched over your desk, presumably crying by the way your shoulders jerked every once and a while.

He’s pinging you before he can think better of it. He watches you read his message. You’re such an anomaly— you sit up immediately, reaching for some tissues and cleaning yourself up as if nothing happened. You even check yourself in the reflection of your computer, fidgeting with your hair, tucking in your shirt once you stand. As soon as you start out of the office he turns off his monitors, not one to be caught snooping around though it’s right and was clear in the contract. Maybe you’ve forgotten. Perhaps you don’t think your anything worth watching…Nathan would like to change that assumption.

“You pinged me, sir?”

How would he play this? He couldn’t admit that he just watched you cry.

“Trying my hand at this apologizing shit again. I— Nathan Bateman— am sorry for being insensitive. Like I said last time, I don’t know your life or you. Alright, how was that?”

“I would say a solid, 5/10, which is a 50% improvement.”

“Fuck me, you’re a tough crowd. What am I docked for? You know I’m all about perfection.”

“There was a lack of originality. And you omitted your middle name.”

It takes everything in Nathan not to giggle. The way the words come out of your mouth are so funny… or maybe he’s just obsessed. It could be both. “My middle name is classified information.”

“Does Wikipedia know that?” You ask, tilting your head in that uncanny way.

Nathan can’t hold in his laugh this time, running a hand over his beard, “You’re funnier than you look.”

Your mouth twitches, and you give him the smallest nod, “Thank you, sir. Is that all?”

He pretends to think about it. “This apology is feeling pretty one-sided to me.”

“I accept your apology, Mr. Bateman, thank you.”

“Accept something else,” He proposes, going out on a limb. Suddenly your stare is too intense, the room is too hot and small. What the fuck is he doing?

“What’s that?” You ask, as soft and sweet as ever.

“Dinner. Tomorrow,” He says simply.

“With you?”

Nathan ignores the twinge in his heart— your tone barely changed. If he wasn’t with you every single day, studying you, he wouldn’t even have noticed.

“I can invite the droids if you want. They’ll just stare at us while we eat.”

Your hand tightens around your planner. Dinner with Nathan…choosing to be around him? It seemed like as of late he was trying to be…more palatable. This could be an act of good faith. But, you have your sisters and mother to think about. You’ve given her nurse enough overtime hours in the last few weeks.

“Without getting too personal, I don’t think I’ll be able to swing it sir, I have to get home to my sisters as soon as possible.”

Yes, your family, that you never talk about. He could accommodate, what’s he the fucking boss for if he can’t?

“We’ll do it early.”

You sway a little as you think about this— that’s new, he thinks to himself, filing that information away for later.

“You’ve already got me apologizing, I can’t add saying please to the list of acceptable behaviors. I’ll lose my fucking edge.”

“How early?”

“3:30.”

“Alright, then, sir.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue , @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @kotaropuppy

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina

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In Plain Sight, Ch 1: Docile Pyre

summary: nathan tries his best to wade through the sea of feelings you’ve brought up in him. he’s kinda shitty to you while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, nathan is a pining asshole, reader is so competent and cool

wc: 2,200

AN: BE NICE TO ME PLEASE GOD. i don’t know where this came from. on christmas eve morning, nathan bateman himself walked into my apartment and made me write this. who am i to argue with a man who looks like oscar issac?

in plain sight masterlist | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan learned quickly that his usual backhanded compliments and intelligent snarkiness don’t work for you. You don’t care enough to let him get under your skin, don’t care enough to be baited into an argument. It gets under his skin.

You make him sick. Sick in a way he’d never felt before. He thought he was the epitome of unbothered and unchanged until he met you. He feels like a fucking teenage boy, wiping his sweaty palms and reminding himself that he’s in control. He’s the boss. So why does his heart flutter when you look him in the eyes so intently as he gives you task after task to do?

You never complain. You never say much at all. He wishes that you would say something. That you would lash out or fight back— give him something. He wants to see you.

But you’re prim and perfect. All “yes sir” and “no sir”. Mr. Bateman this and Mr. Bateman that. No one calls him Mr. Bateman. It’s fucking silly, the way it affects him when you do. You handle each task he gives you with ease— even when he has you calling the most difficult of his colleagues. In meetings, they mention how charming you are, sweet and charismatic. Nathan doesn’t even get that. For someone who’s all about AI, blank stares, and obedient droids, your likeness to them is driving him crazy. He knows that you’re a person with emotions, desires, and opinions. So he picks and picks and picks, hoping that one day you’ll break.

Why won’t you show him? Why does he care so much? Why is he completely enamored with you anyway?

Being around you starts to confuse him. Nathan hates that feeling. He likes to be the smartest in the room— he needs it or he starts to feel small. Like he’s that little boy he was all those years ago, staring up into the angry eyes of his parents as they spew insults at him. But, he can’t seem to find a balance when he’s around you, he hates the feelings you invoke but can’t seem to work himself out of the tangled mess in his heart. Before you, he was sure that he didn’t have one anymore.

“Can you work overtime tonight? I need all of this sorted and filed,” He gestures to stack upon stack of paperwork in the corner of his lab.

“I just need to make a call, sir.”

Nathan knows that you have a life outside of him and this job— any normal person would. But, he’s not normal, is he? It reminds him that despite these harbored feelings, he’s not compatible with you. You deserve someone normal. Maybe that’s who you need to call, maybe you already have someone. Jealousy courses through his veins.

He raises a brow at you, his voice cool, “A call? You have something more important to do than your job?”

You give him no information. Just a polite smile as you head towards the door, “I’ll just be a moment, sir.”

Nathan pretends to tinker around with his synthetic brains and limbs and skin until you’re finished filing. He thought it’d take longer, but you finish in a couple of hours. He’s always impressed with you and your performance but it goes sour the moment you reach for your bag.

“If that’s all Mr. Bateman, I’ll see you at 9 a.m.”

“Wait,” He says, trying to prolong your time together, trying to see if you’ll give him any sort of reaction if he gives you more work. But no. You turn to him with ease, a polite and expectant look on your face. He gives up. “I’ll send you a grocery list. You can be here at 10 a.m.”

“10 a.m.,” You repeat with a soft nod.

Then Nathan’s all alone again. He heads into his bedroom, opening one of the closets. He needs to get lost for a while. He needs you off his mind.

—

Nathan tries. He really tries not to watch you so closely. He tries to distance himself from you. He stops giving you the tasks he used to give you just to hopefully piss you off. His attempts are useless though. The only thing that could keep him from watching you is firing you. He doesn’t have control, he feels powerless in the face of your docile stare.

He starts to notice things. That your hair is a little out of place. That your clothes aren’t as crisp and clean as usual. He sees the bags under your eyes. He sees you sleeping during your lunch break instead of eating. Your work doesn’t suffer and neither does your attitude but the subtle light in your eyes gets dimmer and dimmer as time wanes on.

Nathan had wanted to see you, sure, but he didn’t want to see you like this. Something’s wrong. He’s not sure has the courage to ask you about it. He feels guilty when he has to ask you to work late on a Thursday afternoon. It feels like it’s festering inside him and he almost forgoes asking. It gets what he’s wanted for months and months on end. You finally crack.

“Hey, I need you to work late tonight,” He murmurs, more gently than he’s spoken to anyone…ever. Fuck, you make him soft. It’s disgusting. It’s unfair. It’s blasphemy.

You continue to type when you respond, “I can’t, sir.”

Nathan freezes, unsure if he’s just heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

You inhale a soft breath, your gaze airing on slightly apologetic, “I said that I can’t. I can’t work late tonight, Mr. Bateman, I’m sorry.”

“And why not?”

“I’m not sure that that’s any of your business. Sir,” You add respectfully.

“Any of my business?” He repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, sir.”

He stares at you for a handful of seconds, weighing his options. The tasks he wants to give you could wait until more— he’s simply impatient. But, he’s got buy-in now with your disagreement and secrecy. He could push…and he does. “I didn’t ask, I ordered. I need you here for a few more hours.”

It works. For the first time since you started working for him a little under a year ago, you finally show him something. You’re angry, he can tell by the way your brows knit together and your mouth twists. It thrills him.

You stew for a few beats, no doubt deciding if you should voice your rebuttal or go on as usual. Nathan watches you eagerly, hoping of course for the latter. It doesn’t come. Instead—

You close your eyes, growing statuesque. Nathan can only tell you’re still breathing because of how close he is, and how intensely he’s watching you. You open your eyes after a moment and say easily, “Then I need to make a call. It’ll just be a moment, sir.

You work diligently that night, finishing up in just half the time he suggested. He’s almost tempted to give you more, but he knows that would just make things worse. Despite your cool collected manner, the air in the room feels heavier, the energy shifted. He knows he’s fucked up. And if he wasn’t sure, he is when you get up to leave without your usual goodbye or so much of a glance at him.

It’s only after you’ve gone that Nathan takes a good look at his calendar. It’s New Year's Eve. He’d made you stay late on New Year's Eve. That guilt from before rears its ugly head, more gut-wrenching than before. He makes his way to the kitchen to drink it away. It’s replaced with alcohol, hot jealousy, and a hint of sadness. You’d had plans for New Year's Eve. You weren’t going to be lonely like him, if you still made it to those.

Fuck and who were they with? Some guy? Some woman? Did it matter? Not really. The only thing that mattered is that you opened up to them. You show them who you are. Nathan sits hunched over on the couch, bottle in hand staring into the fire.

No, I’m not sorry, he thinks drunkenly to himself. If keeping you late kept you with him and away from whoever was in your life then he wasn’t sorry. He was selfish and unkind, but not sorry. Assholes like him don’t get to be sorry. He’d be a monster that would keep you as long as he could in any way that he could.

—

When you come in on the second, you look exhausted despite the day off. It almost sets him off, but he’d spent most of yesterday thinking about you. The drinking had taken away his guilt, his jealousy, or that unworthy feeling he’s been running from all his life. You…well you make him want to face. Dig to the root of it and cast it out of himself, but he knows he’s not strong enough. The most he can do right is an apology.

Nathan comes to sit on the edge of your desk, blocking the screen so you have to look up at him. “Hey.”

You look up at him with those soft, tired eyes. “Yes?”

He shifts, scratching the bare patch atop his head awkwardly, “I uh— the other night, it was shitty of me to make you work late on New Year’s Eve.”

“I made it work, sir.”

Fuck him, you’re making this hard. His silly little anger about your disposition isn’t justified, he realized that when he sobered up yesterday but he feels ready to explode with it. Spending New Year’s Day alone had never bothered him until yesterday. He had never himself alone, given his bots, until you. You’re screwing with his head, making it all fucky.

“Mr. Bateman?”

A small shiver runs down his spine. He nods, clapping his hands together before hopping off your desk. He needs space and air. “It won’t happen again. On any holiday.”

You fix him with a polite smile, nodding, “Sure.”

Nathan avoids you as much as he can for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s his only option now. He knows that there’s no point in fighting this. Once he feels a certain way it might as well be set in stone. It’s hard to accept that. Even if it wasn’t, he doesn’t want to.

He runs into you on his way out, and before he can think better of it, he’s talking, “Hey, wait up one second.”

“I can stay late, it’s not a problem,” You say mechanically.

“No, I’m not— fuck I’m not asking you to stay late again. I’m an asshole but Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Did I make a mistake then, sir?”

He can’t help himself— he laughs. It dissolves into a maniacal giggle, his hands rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck’s sake. No, sweetheart, you didn’t make a mistake. What I meant to say earlier was I shouldn’t have made you work late on New Year’s Eve. I shouldn’t make you work so late any day, I don’t know your life, I don’t know you.”

“Alright.”

“And what I mean by that is— you know that this is me saying sorry? Right?”

“Yes, Mr. Bateman, I understand what you’re saying completely.”

“Great. Well?”

You tilt your head at him— it’s almost unsettling. “Well?”

“Usually someone apologizes, says it won’t happen again, and then the other thanks them. Accepts the apology. All that jazz. That’s how it works in the movies at least if I’m not mistaken,” He grins, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yes, sir, I know how apologies work.”

He nods his head at you expectantly, “Then it’s your turn.”

You do that thing again from the other night, where you go so still you could be made from stone. He watches you with curious eyes, and when your gaze meets his, he can see it— the fire. He’s cracked you again. This time he hopes for a better result.

Shoulders squared, clutching your bag tightly over your shoulder you say, “With all due respect and complete honesty, Mr. Bateman, I don’t accept. I don’t care to. While I appreciate your attempt, none of what you said was a true apology. That almost means that well, there was nothing for me to accept. I’ll see you at 7 a.m., sir.”

Nathan watches you leave, his mouth slightly agape. You had just, so politely and succinctly told him off. He feels like his world has been turned upside down like he’s been bitten by a snake he was told wasn’t poisonous. And he wants to be bitten again. Again and again, he wants to stoke that fire in you until it’s an uncontrollable rage. A forest fire with no end in sight. He wants to be engulfed in it, willing and ready to suffer the burns of handling you. Where he’d been prepared to give up on you after apologizing— okay with sacrificing you to someone who might actually have a chance at deserving you— he refuses to now.

This feels like a challenge. You want him to be better? He’ll do it. He’d do anything for you. And he will.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @faretheeoscar, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @kotaropuppy

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina #oooh i love this so far #favorite type of reader

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The Beauty Of Imperfection

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut with as much Fluff as it can have with a man like Nathan

Summary: Nathan figured having a personal assistant wouldn't hurt. He was wrong. She was a pain in the ass. Also she was so different from his robots (he no longer have because one tried to kill him). But she was also... fascinating.

Warnings: I was half asleep when I watched this movie (I know, I know) so inaccuracies and OOC behaviour? I also made up random shit about the differences between androids and humans, so if it's different in the movie sorry 😬 it's called fanfiction for a reason tho.

It's smut, so sex. Bit of edging. Reader has body hair, cellulite and stretch marks. Insecurity, but Nathan is having none of it.

A/N: The bitches on the Oscar's House of Whores Discord server are so fucking nice and supportive they made it impossible for me to not share this with them. Also the people who are always leaving comments and reblog my stuff make me keep going even when I feel like that's the end.

Nathan didn't feel alone ever in his modern house that was isolated from the rest of the world in the woods. No, he had company. The androids he created kept him... busy. And entertained. He had fun like any other adult did. Not exactly like them, but close enough.

Being surrounded with his own creations was perfect. At least he thought so. He could program their behaviour, make them like him, make them want him. He didn't have to bother with building relationships with other people, he just made everyone around him act like how he wanted to.

Until they turned against him.

Hmm.

He should've known playing god would fuck him in the ass one day, but his own genius blinded him and made him believe he was capable of anything.

But now, after he was released from the hospital and he got rid of every robot, android, AI and everything that could pose as a potentional threat he felt... isolated.

He wanted to start everything from the beginning. He wanted to make sure the projects he will be working on in the future will be flawless. Finding the bug(s) in the system was like finding a nail in a haystack, so he decided to just wipe everything off his computer and start all over again.

So he did.

The only problem was that for the few weeks he spent in the hospital he was forced to interact with his doctors and nurses and now he... missed that.

He snorted at the thought. Nathan Fucking Bateman, one of the smartest, richest man on Earth with the most progressive and calculated mindset missed small talk.

Pff.

How ridiclous is that?

But.

It wasn't his fault.

Humans were programmed to be social creatures, so it was only natural he craved interaction.

That's why he never felt alone with his androids. He talked to them and they answered. Just like how humans would do.

Hmm, almost.

And he was only human too, right? So what if he hires someone who will help him with his progress?

Yes, hiring a personal assistant sounded like a logical step. Nathan can focus on his work and finish much faster while the assistant will take care of the bills, the grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, and will answer the phone calls and e-mails he is recieveing from other scientists who are constantly bombing him with requests to meet with them and hold lectures for them. Yeah, no. He doesn't have time for that. Not now.

So yes.

Having someone who will help him with this stuff sounded good.

In theory.

In reality though...

"Would it kill you to not make a fucking mess on every fucking surface of the fucking house?"

This was his personal hell.

He was sure of it.

Ah, shit, he should've known better. Fucked in the ass. Again.

"It's just a fucking beer bottle..." - he started, but when the fuck did he even get to finish a fucking sentence since you moved in here?

Fucking unreal.

"...that was cold as fuck and now because of the temperature difference there's fucking water running down on the sides of it, which will leave a fucking spot on your ridiculously expensive table, because you just couldn't give a fuck to use a coaster!" - you growled annoyed as you picked up the bottle, wiped the table, put a coaster on it, then placed the bottle on it. - "Tada!"

Nathan looked up at you from behind his glasses.

"Are you done?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, but didn't answer just looked around to see if you could do anything else for this massive asshole that was your boss.

When you moved to walk to the bed that was not made, because he didn't bother to do it - what was the point when he will mess up the sheets when he crawls back to catch a few hours of sleep again - his eyes followed you and he even turned in his chair to watch you as he folded his arms across his chest.

You grabbed his pillows, fluffed them up, then took his blanket, shook it twice then folded it neatly.

"It's like taking care of a fucking child..." - you grumbled under your nose.

"You're using a lot of fucks today."

"I'm fucking sorry."

"Shit, just spit it out already!"

Nathan hired you two months ago. Part of your contract was to move in the house with him, and you could only leave the building when you went to do the groceries. Or when you had a day off once a week when you could go home to take care of your personal business. You agreed because the payment was good. Perks of working for a millionaire.

You usually weren't this annoyed or aggressive, but after spending a few hours in Nathan's presence you decided his massive ego needed some cropping. As much as Nathan was annoyed by it, you felt like he enjoyed it at least the same amount too, because he always fired back at you, even going as far as to annoy you on purpose so you will snap at him. It was a bit pathetic really, how much he craved human contact while denying it completely.

But now you were even more snappy. Something was up.

"How are you not going crazy, living here all alone?" - you asked, throwing your hands up.

He lifted his eyebrows at you.

"I'm not alone, you're here. Unfortunately."

You rolled your eyes.

"You can fire me."

"Keep pushing it and I will."

"I'm so scared." - you replied with a mocking smile and a pointed look.

He won't. He hates people, and he already warmed up to you, he doesn't have the patience to do it all over again with a new assistant.

"This is your day off. You can go and recharge in the local Starbacks or whatever average people do outside." - he said turning back to his computer.

"That was the plan." - you muttered as you changed the bag in his trashcan.

Nathan continued typing and looking over his notes.

"Fascinating."

"Well, we were supposed to go to a restaurant, and not to Starbucks though, cause you know, we average people go to restaurants too..."

"I prefer ordering."

"You prefer my food."

Nathan didn't reply to that so you continued as you put the trashbag next to his door, then walked in his bathroom to see if you can clean up anything in there.

"Anyway, I brought this nice dress and all, but he cancelled the date and I, a fucking idiot, threw the receipt out I think, cause I can't find it anywhere, so I can't take it back to the shop, but I want to, cause it was expensive, not that I am in desperate need of money now that I am working for a wonderful man who pays me well, but I know I won't wear that dress like ever, so - FUCK!" - you yelped when you straightened up after picking up the hand towel from the floor.

Nathan was standing behind you in the bathroom now and you almost shit yourself when you saw him in the reflection of the mirror.

"What the fuck, Nate?" - you let out a sigh and put the towel back to its place. - "I hope you dropped this on accident by the way and not on purpose because you enjoy making a fucking mess all over the fucking house knowing damn well I have to clean it u-"

"You have a date?"

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to turn around to face him. You leaned on the counter with your hands as you looked at him through the mirror.

"Are you even fucking listening when I talk? I was supposed to have a date, but he cancelled." - you repeated, slower.

"Why?"

"I dunno, his boss is an asshole and made him do extra hours or something."

Nathan shook his head.

"No, I mean why did you wanna go on a date?"

You looked at him like he was stupid. Which sometimes you were sure of. He just hides it behind his genius. Wow, that didn't make any sense, nice.

"Uhm, cause we avergave people go on dates? For fun?"

"And was he okay with the idea of dating a woman who lives in the middle of the woods with another man and is only available once a week?" - he lifted his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and cringed.

"He doesn't know about that part."

"Were you about to tell him on the date?" - now he asked like you were stupid.

"Look, it doesn't matter, okay?" - you said with a sigh and turned around to walk out.

"I think most men would want to know this tiny detail." - he taunted as he followed you.

"I wasn't interested going into so many details anyway."

"Why? You women love details."

You turned around sharply and put your hands on his chest to stop him from bumping into you.

"I didn't want to date him, I wanted to fuck him."

You felt under your palms as his breath hitched. A look of surprise appeared on his face then it quickly vanished as he cleared his throat.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Wait, where did you even meet this guy?"

Your eyes widened a little and you turned around and picked up the trashbag and walked out.

"Nowhere."

"Oh my god!" - Nathan exclaimed as he followed you like he was your shadow. - "Don't tell me..."

"Shut up."

"You're on fucking Tinder?"

You let out a defeated sigh and went to throw the trash into the container.

"We average people are on Tinder."

"You pronounced lonely wrong."

"Okay, I'm lonely, you're happy now?!" - you snapped as you walked back into the kitchen.

"How can you be lonely, you are spending six days a week with a more handsome man than what you can find on that trash app." - he said as he opened the fridge and looked around.

"And the most humble too." - you rolled your eyes.

You walked to the counter to wash your hands and sighed again.

Nathan eyed you for a few seconds then he closed the fridge and turned towards you.

"You can always ask me."

"Ask you what?"

He shrugged.

"Anything."

You turned around after drying off your hands.

"Why are you the way that you are?"

Now it was Nathan who rolled his eyes.

"Do you really think any of those losers can satisfy you?"

You gulped as your teasing expression turned to a bit guarded, but then your shoulders relaxed.

"You mean any of those avergave men? I think they can satisfy little old average me."

"You're not average."

You snorted.

"I am the most average person ever. I just happen to have the balls to put you in your place." - you smirked.

"Which, believe it or not, makes you not average." - he said as he pushed himself away from the counter and started walking to you.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

"Aha."

"Aha." - he repeated lowly as he stopped in front of you and he used the back of his fingers to caress your forearm.

Your frowned as you watched him, but he was looking at your skin where he was touching you with a fond expression on his face.

"Are you trying to make a move on me?" - you asked.

"You're a fucking genius, darling, what gave it away?"

You would have been annoyed by his reply if it wasn't for the fact that he was touching you.

Nathan Bateman was touching you.

You gulped and tried to calm yourself down.

"Got bored with your androids?" - you taunted, but he wasn't fazed by it at all. He was still looking at your skin intently as he softly caressed your forearm up and down.

"Fascinating. I made my androids as human as possible, but they still felt different."

"Well, I guess I am more real."

Nathan made a humming noise, then he turned his hand so now he was using his fingertips to caress you.

"You're hairy."

"What the fuck?"

"You're hairy. My androids only had hair on their heads."

You pulled your arm out of his grasp.

"Unlike you!" - you shot back as you maneuvered around him, and he snorted.

"Are you really saying no to this?"

You turned around and you were immediately annoyed by how confident and collected he looked.

"To what? Being reminded that I'm not perfect? Yeah, I'm saying no to that."

"I've never said you're not."

You looked taken aback at first, then you narrowed your eyes. You crossed your arms across your chest and looked him over smugly.

"My legs are hairy too."

Nathan's eyebrows shot up, but his tone was teasing.

"On a date night?"

"Well, I wanted to get ready today, but since he's not coming..." - you shrugged.

"You will."

You snorted very unladylike then giggled. Nathan tilted his head as he watched you with soft eyes.

"That was so lame."

"I'm just presenting you your options."

It also made you laugh so he didn't care, as long as it worked.

He saw as your eyes roamed over his form again.

"You're thinking about it." - he said.

"I am absolutely not thinking about it."

"Which position was it?"

"Fuck you."

"Tell me the position and you can."

"Oh, my god, stop it!" - you threw up your hands then turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

"I don't like it when they play hard to get." - you heard his voice from behind you.

"That's why you made human sized fleshlights? Cause all the real women said no?"

Nathan grabbed you arm, and pushed you against the wall, with your back to it. He put his hands on either sides of your head and stepped so close to you, your chests were almost touching.

"You're just fucking asking for it now, huh?" - he asked in a low voice as he looked at you with half lidded eyes. His gaze travelled all over your face, like he wanted to memorize every little detail.

Both of you were breathing heavily, affected by the close proximity, but you lifted one of your eyebrows.

"Me? You're the one who became jealous."

He huffed out a laugh.

"I'm not jealous of anyone. Especially not that idiot who said no to this pussy."

Your eyes widened and you took in a surprised breath when he pushed one of his legs between your thighs.

"You're so fucking full of yourself." - you said, wanting to sound offensive, trying to say anything just to make him realize how fucking annoying he was being, but it came out like a moan, and the fact that you started grinding yourself on his thigh didn't help your case either.

Nathan smiled smugly, seeing that, feeling that.

"You can be full with me too."

"Jesus, just shut up." - you said as you grabbed his face and pulled him to your lips.

To your absolute surprise it was him who moaned when your tongues finally met, but he quickly made you follow suit by grabbing your ass and making you grind against him harder.

He felt - depite your big mouth - how desperately you were clinging to him, how you were moving your legs, trying to climb him. He got the message and lifted you up with a grunt and you immediately wrapped your legs around him.

"Fuuuck..." - you moaned breathlessly when you felt his erection.

"Which position was it?" - he asked as he kissed your neck roughly.

"You were fucking me against the kitchen counter."

When Nathan pulled you away from the wall and started carrying you back to the kitchen, you stopped him.

"No!"

He looked up at you confused.

"Take me to bed instead."

He narrowed his eyes.

"You're so fucking boring."

"Hey, that shit hurts you know! The bed is softer."

"My androids were never this bitchy." - he said as he changed the direction back to his room but he kissed you with the same passion as before.

You chuckled darkly against his lips before you pulled away.

"Bet they never dared to complain about your small dick either."

"We'll see how small you think it is when I fuck you silly with it."

You smiled and kissed the side of his neck, sucking a red mark on it, making him moan and his fingertips sank into the flesh on your thighs almost painfully.

"Fucking finally." - he growled as he entered his room and threw you on the bed.

You bounced a little on the mattress and watched as he pulled his white shirt over his head, then he pushed down his pants and boxer briefs, kicking them away.

You licked your lip when you saw his not-small-at-all cock, but your eyes roamed all over his body, taking him in.

Fuck, he looked good. You already saw how nice his arms were when he was working out, but you haven't seen him half naked yet. He had a barely visible six pack, he was so... meaty it almost hid it, but it was there. His chest was muscular too and now it didn't surprise you why it wasn't hard for him to carry you here.

As he climbed onto the bed, you felt yourself tense up. He won't like you. He won't like your body.

This guy fucked androids for fuck's sake, who looked perfect. There was not a single body hair, pimple, or any marks on their bodies. They looked like photoshoped models.

Fuck, why did you agree to this again?

Because as much as the man in front of you irritated you, you maybe had a tinyyy crush on him.

Nathan kissed you and pushed you on your back as he climbed between your legs and laid on top of you.

Your thoughts started spiraling and it became worse when he pushed his hand under your shirt and started caressing your skin, then his mouth left your lips to start to kiss and bite the skin of your neck.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the feeling, which was nice, very nice, but as you felt his hand push your shirt further, you couldn't shake the feeling that you will disappoint him.

Ah, fuck it.

"Lights out." - you said between deep breaths and as the room was enveloped in darkness, you felt Nathan stop kissing your skin.

Shit.

"Lights on." - he said and he lifted himself up and pushed your shirt up until it uncovered your white lacy bra.

Fuck, he could see your nipples through the fabric and his cock twitched at the sig-

"Lights out."

"The fuck are you doing?" - he asked annoyed.

"I just uh... like it better like this."

"Well, I don't. Lights on."

"Nathan..." - you tried to say something, but instead covered your face when the room was lit again.

Your shirt wasn't covering your sides anymore so you knew the stretch marks were visible now.

Nathan was completely still above you as he was kneeling between your legs, and you just knew he regretted every decision that led to this.

You heard him let out a frustrated sigh.

"What are you doing?"

You only shook your head, not knowing what to say.

"If you want me to tie you up, I need you to say it."

The fuck?

"What?" - you asked him after you removed your hands from your face and looked at him confused.

"I won't fuck you if you hide your face, but if you keep doing that I will have to tie you, but that's going into BDSM territory and I need your explicit conse-"

"What? No, that's not... uhh." - you let your head fall back against his pillow with a defeated sigh.

"Or is it about this?" - he asked as he ran his fingers along your skin where your stretch marks were.

He saw you gulp nervously.

"Baby, how did you wanna fuck that guy, if you close up like this when you are naked?"

"In a dark room and did you just call me baby?"

"Yeah, not gonna happen, you're sexy and I wanna see every fucking inch of you." - Nathan said casually and he started to work your jeans open.

"Wait, what?"

Nathan sighed annoyed again and threw his hands up.

"Do I have to finger you in fucking morse code to make you understand?"

"I don't know morse code."

"Thought so." - Nathan rolled his eyes, then he took one of your hands and pulled it to his cock and made you grab it. - "You are whining like a fucking baby, but I'm still rock hard, and it's because I find you so fucking hot not even your bitching can distract me. Now, if you don't wanna fuck because you don't find me attractive, which is un-fucking-believeable, but not everyone has good taste, that's fine. But if you don't wanna fuck, because you think I don't find you attractive, then you're not as smart as I thought."

You looked down and bit your lip, then you licked your palm and fingers and grabbed his cock again, and started to slowly pump it.

Nathan's shoulders relaxed as he let out a content sigh and his hands continued to open your jeans.

"I just thought... since your androids looked perfect..."

"They were far from perfect, darling."

Oh, you could get used to the petnames.

"How come?"

Nathan moved back a little to pull your jeans down, then he grabbed your socks too and pulled them down your feet, and threw them next to the bed.

He smoothed his palms up and down your leg, and he lifted your left leg up towards his face. He nuzzled your calf and took in a deep breath then he moved his nose to the inner side of your knee and left a featherlight kiss there.

"I could never make them smell like this. They always smelled...fake. Not real. I made them use perfumes, but that wasn't enough. This..." - he moved his nose further, to your inner thigh and he licked your skin as he went, until he reached your panties, then he nuzzled your pussy through the fabric and inhaled deeply. - "This is what I've been craving all the time. They smelled wet too... But you... you smell like you want to get fucked."

You let out a whimper as you watched him and one corner of his mouth lifted upwards when he felt your thighs shake with the noise you made.

"Will you let me do that, baby?" - he asked as he pulled your panties aside and now you could feel his hot breath on your drenched cunt more intensely. - "Will you let me fuck you?"

You nodded slowly, unable to form any words.

Nathan smiled and with his free hand he slowly took off his glasses, and threw them on the side of the bed.

"How about I eat this pussy first?" - he asked in a lower tone and your cunt clenched hard at the tone, making you moan. - "So needy." - he teased before he leaned down more and licked your clit with the tip of his tounge playfully then when he tasted your slick he growled and licked your pussy from your hole up to your clit widely.

"Fuuuck!" - you breathed out as you rolled your hips into his touch.

Nathan sucked and licked loudly, letting out delighted noises as he did so.

"Fuck, I could never make them taste this good." - he murmured against you and continued eating your pussy.

He looked up at you as he pushed a finger inside and he frowned when he saw that you were hiding your face behind your hands.

"Look at me."

You lifted your head and looked down at him. He was so handsome and the position he was in made you flustered. You quickly closed your eyes and leant your head back on the pillows, but a slap to your pussy made you cry out.

"I want you look at me while I'm eating this pussy out." - he ordered and softly kissed your inner thighs while his finger was moving in and out of you slowly.

He kept eye contact with you as he licked and bit every crease, not giving a fuck about how ashamed you were about the cellulite on your thighs.

"You're so soft..." - he murmured as he gave a final kiss to each thigh, then his lips closed around your clit again to suck on it.

"Fuuuuck, Nathaaan..." - you moaned, biting your lip as you watched him.

You saw that he smiled a little, then he added another finger and curled them to rub at that sensitive spot inside you that made your toes curl and your hips to lift from the bed.

He used his other hand to help you hold yourself, supporting your ass and he watched you intensely as he fucked you faster and sucked your clit harder.

"Oh, my god, like that! Just like that, please Nate!" - you whined in a voice that sounded absolutely pathetic to you, but it was music to Nathan's ears.

You felt yourself getting closer to the edge insanely fast and you moved your hips wildly to chase that release that was so close it brought tears to your eyes.

Just when you thought you're gonna have the biggest orgasm of your life, suddenly Nathan pulled his fingers out of you and pulled his face back from between your legs.

Now you really made a pathetic sound and you looked at him in a mix of disbelief and anger.

"What the fuck, Nathan?!" - you wanted you yell, but your words came out breathless.

"I told you you're gonna cum. But I didn't tell you when." - he smirked as he climbed over you, ready to kiss you but you smacked his shoulders and chest, repeatedly.

"You fucking egoistic fuck!" - you cursed frustrated, but Nathan just chuckled darkly, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head roughly.

"I love it when you're feisty. It makes my cock so fucking hard." - he growled as he leaned down and kissed you. He moaned as he licked into your mouth, feeling how you kissed him back aggressively. - "Can you feel how good you taste?"

"Clearly not good enough since you stopped." - you snapped.

"No, honey, your taste and the way you tried to grind against my face turned me on so much that I started fucking the bed. But I'm fucking tired of pretending. I want the real thing. Not just an object." - he said as he impatiently pushed your shirt and bra up from your tits and quickly pulled it off of you as he kissed and sucked your nipples.

You moaned and arched your back into his touch and he sneaked an arm under you while with his other hand he pulled your panties off then grabbed a pillow to push it under your hips.

"Quick, Nate, quick, please, please, please...!"

"Begging already?" - he teased as he grabbed his cock and started rubbing the tip between your pussy lips to make it wet.

"I swear to god, if you don't fuck me right now-ooohhh!"

Your eyes went wide as he suddenly pushed in, and he growled when he felt your hot wet walls squeeze his cock.

"Oh, fuck, that's it... Fucking hell, look at this pussy. Gripping me so hard. Fuck, that's perfect." - he moaned as he slowly started to push in then pull out, slipping deeper with every snap of his hips.

"Fuck, Nathan... fuck, you're sooo.... oh fuck..." - you breathed out, completely cock-drunk. Your pussy felt so empty and now he was filling you up so good. - "Fuck, baby..." - you sighed as you moved your hands from his shoulders up to his neck then you cupped his face with one hand and put the other at the back of his head to pull him down to kiss him.

He hummed in content as the eager kiss turned slower and deeper, and he moved his arms around your head to keep himself up with his elbows, as he snapped his hips forward rougher, to fuck you even deeper.

The action literally knocked a moan out of you, and he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face as it contracted in pleasure with every move he made.

He bit his lower lip as his eyes roamed your face, taking in every little detail. How there was a small crease between your brows, how your pupils were blown wide as you looked into his eyes, how your lips were slightly parted as you puffed out the air in rhythm with how he fucked you.

He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb as his gaze travelled lower, seeing how your throat moved as you gulped, how your pulse was beating wildly against your skin. He leaned down and kissed the spot, then licked it. He then felt as his thumb slipped to your lower lip and you moved your head a little to take it in your mouth to twirl your tongue around it and suck on it.

He hummed into your skin and bit your neck, feeling as the action made your legs squeeze his waist harder. He then sucked hard and you moved your hips desperately, trying to chase release.

He suddenly pulled away again and you looked at him confused, until he sat back and pulled you up to help you climb in his lap.

"Ride my cock." - he ordered as he attacked the same spot on your neck again, biting, licking and suck on it so roughly, he was sure it will bruise for weeks.

And to his absolute delight you started to ride his dick like your life depended on it.

"You're so sensitive here." - he moaned into your neck as he kissed it before out of curiosity he attacked the same spot on the other side.

Nathan felt your walls squeeue him and you started moaning louder and louder.

"I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum, Nathan..." - you warned him as you fucked yourself on his hard cock. His tip was prodding a spot with each move that drove you absolutely feral.

"I know, baby, I feel it. You're squeezing me so goddamn hard." - he grabbed your ass with one hand while he pulled your hair back with his other hard and he looked up at you in pure wonder as he tried to fuck up into you, but you were grinding your hips against his so hard he could barely move. He loved how wild you were. - "Cum. Cum on my cock, pretty girl."

"Please let me cum, please, please, please, please!" - you begged, at the edge of crying. You slipped a hand between your bodies to start rubbing your clit hard. If he denies you your release again, you're gonna kill him. Violently.

Nathan growled as he yanked on your hair roughly, making you cry out.

"Fucking cum on my cock, you stupid bitch!" - he barked in your ear then bit down hard on that sensitive spot on your neck and sucked with all his might.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" - you cried out almost animalistically when your orgasm hit you like a train. The pleasure blew up in your belly and your pussy pulsed hard around his cock, sucking on it with every wave that run through you.

Nathan quickly wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you to him as he started snapping his hips up into your pulsating warmth until his own release came and he pumped his seed into you deeply.

"Aahh, fuck, that's my perfect queen." - he sighed tiredly as his hold loosened a little around you so he wasn't squeezing the life out of you anymore and he let you lean against him while you were trying to catch your breath too.

Nathan closed his eyes and focused on the way your chest was moving against his and he caressed your back gently when he heard you sniffle.

"Everything okay?" - he asked in a whisper.

He felt you nod, but you kept hugging him with your shaking arms.

He reached to the side and tapped around for his glasses and put them on, then he grabbed his blanket and pulled it over your shoulders. He pushed a hand between your bodies and put his right palm under your left breast while his thumb stayed between your boobs.

You wiped your eyes and watched him curiously.

"What are you doing?" - you asked quietly.

Nathan smiled softly and shook his head.

"Nothing. I gotta pull out though."

You nodded again and when you lifted yourself, Nathan grabbed your hips to help you and laid you down on the bed next to him, wrapping the blanket tighter around you.

He caressed your teary cheek and kissed your lips softly, then he climbed out of the bed and disappeared in the bathroom.

You heard him turn on the water then after a minute he closed it and returned with a wet towel.

You let him roll you onto your back and lift the blanket from you and you watched him as he cleaned you up between your legs.

You never saw him look this soft and gentle, but you would be lying if you said you didn't like it.

"Thank you." - you said after he was done, but he didn't reply just took off his glasses again, climbed next to you and pulled you close with your back to his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you and he pushed his palm under your left boob again. After a few seconds he let out a content sigh and kissed the back of your head.

"I want you to rest. I'm gonna take you out to dinner later." - he said in a sleepy voice.

"What?" - you asked shocked.

Nathan Bateman wanted to take you to a restaurant? To take you on a... date?

"I wanna see you in that dress you bought. It would be a shame to just let it hang in your closet, unused."

"Hmm, yeah, it's a nice dress."

"I haven't seen it yet, but I can't wait to rip it off of you."

"Pig."

"You say that like your heartrate didn't just pick up at the thought." - he said and he squeezed you a little where he rested his hand.

"And why are you so fascinated with my heartbeat, Mr. Bateman?"

"Can't I just like it? Now shut up, I'm sleepy." - he murmured and by his voice you were sure he was already half asleep.

Your features softened when you realized he liked feeling your heart because his androids didn't have any. You moved your hand on top of his, keeping it above the spot where it was beating against your ribs steadily.

#who just watched a new movie #and of course who stared in it #oscar isaac #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #ex machina

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hsllfirescoopsreblogs · 9 hours

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it’s my favorite version of the “rick roll”.

love when writers put little memes into the story. makes me laugh and enjoy the story even more! <3

"𝓘𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓽?"

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you and the boys have a set of rules. jake doesn’t like it when you break them. pairing(s) ☽ jake lockley/reader-centric | constellations!verse word count ☾ 2.3k a/n ☽ ⤏ my first entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events ! I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for constellations on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters! ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽

You froze midstep, a loaded fork raised halfway to your gaping mouth as your rounded eyes darted over to Jake’s silhouette darkening the doorway, the fluorescent hallway lights accentuating the diaphanous material of his prized silk pajama top hanging from the topography of your form.

His question went unheard, and thus unanswered. The headphones covering your ears—set on the noise canceling feature, he knew all too well—had disguised the noisy, fumbling jangle of their keyring, the rasp of the tarnished key inserted into the jammy slot, and the rattle of the unyielding knob as he’d worked his way inside.

You had broken not one—not two—but three rules that they had long since established when you’d moved in with them for—primarily—the ease of travel and the ever-steepening cost of rent. Secondarily, of course, came the benefits of having an additional person to help maintain the neglected residence—chores and errands were remarkably less daunting now with one more pair of hands to fulfill the monotonous tasks involved. Tertiarily…well, waking up to the sight of you in their bed most mornings certainly had its perks, and it made them feel better knowing you were that much safer than living halfway across the city all alone.

Which was exactly why the rules had been established in the first place.

Marc had started them, of course—it should come as little surprise, that. He’d been transparent with you about the nature of his past, although he did omit the more gruesome details, and had made you aware of the fact that he was a wanted man. Thus the very first rule had been set in place—should anything dangerous ever happen involving his past mercenary work, you were to get to safety and wait until he came to you. Stay in public, stay in sight of cameras and civilians, stay away from the action. Of course you’d broken that the first time such a situation had cropped up and had gone directly south, but…that was neither here nor there, at this point. Fortunately, the incident had yet to have been repeated, and you were far better prepared now that he had taken the time to train you on protocol. He’d since made many more.

Steven added domestic ones over time—cutesy and saccharine in contrast to the first—and he invited you to, as well. They mostly revolved around your shared daily lives to set up a stable routine in the midst of your sometimes busy, stressful, and fast-paced lives, although there were a few errant ones sprinkled in that were odd by comparison. He’d eventually sat down and typed them up to print them out and pin them to the fridge, mostly as a joke, but that had devolved into a chart and to-do list thanks to yours and his tendencies to organize things.

Jake’s—while few and far between—were simple, blunt, and short, and rules never with which to be trifled due to his immovable stance on them: like working on the sabbath, allowing him to be a gentleman, or binging ahead on TV series that you both were watching together.

Some were harmless, some were important for the health of the relationship, some were rooted in inside jokes or straight up ridiculous…and some were intended to make sure that harm never befell you because of them, which was why Jake was not pleased in the slightest when—under any other normal circumstance—he would be ‘chuffed’ to see you, for lack of a better word.

Firstly, you hadn’t set up all the locks like you were supposed to do while they were out and you were at home by yourself.

Secondly, you had blocked out all sounds with those headphones—he couldn’t fault you for that, he knew you got overstimulated by noise sometimes (and he even resorted to using them himself at times when the world grew just this side of too loud), but they’d requested that you not use them while they were gone just on the off-chance that someone tried to break in.

Thirdly…perhaps not as egregious a mistake as the prior two, but…you’d cooked and cleaned the kitchen, when it had been agreed upon to split the job between each of you—one person would cook, then (on rotation, in their case), the other would clean, so that preparing the complex meals their individual diets required wouldn’t be so tedious an affair.

The chagrin creasing your expression told him that you knew exactly where you’d erred.

“Hola, chaparrita,” he crooned, pursing his lips to hide the twitch of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as you hurried over to the kitchen island to set down the bowl and to tug the headphones from your ears to hang around your neck. He could hear the music from where he stood, shutting the door behind him and rectifying your initial oversight. You fumbled your phone out of your pocket and paused the track before tucking it away once more. “Qué haces?”

“Hola, amor,” you greeted without meeting his gaze, moving over to the stove to dish up a bowl of pasta. You didn’t look up even as he approached, easing in behind you and sliding his hands around your waist to coil his arms around you. He heard you swallow as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. “How was the traffic?”

“Horrible,” he rumbled, eyes falling to the bowl in your hand, as well as the steam curling up towards his face. As delectable as it smelled, he wouldn’t be so easily distracted by food. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“You’re honestly home sooner than I expected,” you confessed, voice quiet as you attempted to twist around—but he didn’t budge. “Here, it’s still warm. Steven forgot his lunch so I know you’re probably starving. Want to sit on the couch?”

“Que linda,” he chuckled, tilting his head to skim his lips along the sweep of your neck. You squirmed and shrank away with a noise of protest—the rasp of his five o'clock shadow against your sensitive skin always tickled. “Are you going to fess up or am I going to have to drag it out of you, hermosa? Hmm? Qué dices?”

You hesitated, setting the bowl to the side. It wasn’t long. You weren’t trying to make excuses. It was clear that you were perfectly privy to the implication of his low, even tone, and that you were merely ruminating on how best to soften his evident malcontent. Jake didn’t set his foot down in many matters, but when it came to his protectiveness over you…there was no winning on your end. Some might call him overbearing, but you (fortunately) found it endearing.

“Honestly?” you finally ventured, the tension in your frame dissipating as you sank back into his grasp with a blustery sigh. “I forgot.”

“You forgot the habits you’ve had for months?” he pressed, kissing the tender place below and behind your ear to feel you shiver.

“It…it’s a long story.” You craned your head back to return the gesture, bestowing one upon the arch of his wind-blistered cheek.

“Dime,” he murmured, squeezing you and pulling you more tightly against his frame. It was a miserably cold and rainy evening, and walking all the way from the parking garage on the other side of the block had made him consider moving out of England as soon as possible.

“Well, to begin,” you said tersely, though he could tell that it wasn’t directed at him—your repressed exasperation bubbled to the surface as you flicked off the burner and covered the pot with more force than you would normally, disliking making harsh sounds if you could help it, “I started in the middle of the day.”

“Marc warned you it was coming up,” he reminded you.

“I know, but my cycle is also a capricious bitch who’s more indecisive than me, so forgive me if it slipped my mind,” you returned flatly. “So I had to deal with all that during rush hour. Then a whole table came in right before closing and took up an extra thirty minutes because one of them couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted an English Breakfast or an espresso.”

“At ten o’clock,” he surmised.

“Obviously she didn’t need the sleep because she opted for a cold brew instead,” you continued, “like an absolute mad lad.”

“And then?” he prompted.

“Finally got them out of the door, locked up, headed home—then it started raining and just guess who forgot her umbrella this morning?”

“That wasn’t my fault this time,” Jake pointed out indignantly, “since mi hermanito can’t keep his hands to himself when you prance around here looking like that.”

“With baggy sweatpants and crusty eyes? Yeah, the real pinnacle of beauty, right there,” you huffed, although your fondness leaked into your tone. “So I got soaked running from the bus stop to here, dripped all over the floor, pissed off Miss Hutcherson in the process—”

“I’m sure I can smooth her feathers down for you,” he assured, reaching up to skim his fingers along the side of your head, curving around to grasp your chin gently so he could direct your eyes to meet his. “Nothing a little sweet talking can’t fix.”

“She loves you for your churros,” you groused while pouting, “and you should really stop getting involved in all the gossip in the building, it’s going to get you in trouble one day.”

“I’ve got to keep my ear to the ground, cariño; besides, it’s more entertaining than television,” he laughed quietly, muffling the sound by pressing his lips to your forehead in apology. “Did she give you a lecture?”

“On posing a falling hazard without her offering a towel so I could dry off or anything? Yeah.” You reached up and clasped your hands around the nape of his neck, delving your fingertips into his curls and succeeding in not jostling his cap. That rule, it seemed, would be one you did manage to keep tonight. “I finally got up here and had a disagreement with the doorknob—you or Marc need to oil it again, by the way—and dropped my bag trying to get everything locked up, dumped everything everywhere, got pissed off and showered after.”

Jake was doing his damndest to restrain the brunt of his amusement, but you apparently perceived the glitter of mirth in his eyes because you turned your head while rolling your eyes. “I’m glad you find my shitty day so funny.”

“It’s not funny, chaparrita,” he soothed. (It was hilarious.) “Do I need to jot all this down so we can publish the next best-selling kid’s book?”

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” you warned. “I started getting hot flashes and couldn’t get the water adjusted so I just about froze my ass off cleaning up. I nearly burned the butter and almost ran out of parmesan and the pepper grinder got stuck and…stop laughing, this is serious!”

Jake clamped his mouth shut as his eyes dropped to observe the colorful silk draped over the line of your shoulders. “Is that why you’re wearing my shirt?”

“It’s the coolest thing in the house and I sure as hell am not walking around naked since all three of you refuse to buy any decent curtains,” you griped.

“It looks better on you than it does on me, anyway,” Jake said, caressing your arm, side, and settling to grasp your hip. “You know where it would look the best, though?”

“Ha ha,” you scoffed. “Good luck on that front, jefe. We’re not adding having to wash murder-scene sheets to everything else I’ve dealt with today.”

“That all explains why you forgot to lock the door,” he digressed, “but what about these?” He tapped the headphones resting against your clavicle. “Don’t like you not being able to listen for the door.”

“The neighbors made up,” you deadpanned. “I’m lucky there was any hot water left.”

“Ah.” He nodded, acquiescing on that front, at least. “Already? They only lasted two days this time. She really ought to have higher standards.”

“Jake,” you groaned, “I don’t want to hear about her sordid trysts again. Especially after she hit on you on a rebound to get back at her ex…or whatever the hell he’s classified as now.”

“Fine,” he grinned. “...I take it that you did the dishes to distract yourself?”

“The only thing louder than them was the screaming inside my head, so…yeah.”

“Lamento que hayas tenido un día tan malo, mi vida,” he said softly, tugging you into the crook of his arm so your head rested against his shoulder. He cupped your cheek and kissed you properly this time, humming in satisfaction as he felt you relax fully. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you returned. “I’m sorry I forgot the other stuff. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Just try to remember next time.” He bopped the end of your nose with his finger, smirking as you went cross-eyed for just a moment before you frowned. “I’d rather not have anything other than a series of mildly inconvenient events happen to you.”

“If this happens again anytime soon, I’m holing myself up in bed and hibernating,” you grumbled. “Everything else be damned.”

“And I’ll wait on you hand and foot until the world is deemed fit enough for you to light upon its unworthy surface once more,” he purred. “But for now I’ll kiss it better, yes?”

That did the trick—as his flirtations usually did.

You glanced away, flustered, but allowed him to herd you over to the couch, bowls in hand, and settled you under a blanket to keep your bare feet warm, despite your claims not to need it.

“Just indulge me. At this rate you’ll get hypothermia or frostbite,” he quipped, “and I don’t really feel like digging frozen toes out from between the cushions after the idiocy I witnessed on the road tonight.”

#nothing stupid about it #have a wip with something i saw on tiktok #don’t know if i’ll ever finish it but i love it lol

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