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alwaysmicado · 2 months

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smile, baby

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

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

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

– – –

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

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

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

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

Not right.

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

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

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

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

And eccentric, he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He definitely made the right choice by selecting you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me about it.”

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

Nathan raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond.

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

And so, you blurted out the truth.

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

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

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

“Look at me, baby.”

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

“Continue.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is going on with you?

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

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

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

“Until you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that’s not the plan for tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You actually want him to tell you what to do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit on the floor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Then why the fuck am I down here?”

“Because I want you to be.”

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

He ignores your pouting.

“I got better stuff to do, you know.”

He turns up the volume of the TV.

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

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

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

He looks down at you, effectively shutting you up.

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

He’s such a cocky bastard.

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

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

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

“Yes, you are.”

Unbelievable.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yup. That’s it.”

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

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

It’s an image he wants to savor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen, and he caresses your cheek.

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

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

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

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

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

Nathan’s cock twitches at your total submission.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re loving this.

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

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

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

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

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

“Goddamnit.”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Sir,” you coo.

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

“Open your mouth, slut. Tongue out.”

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

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

Oh no, he wouldn’t.

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

“Go. Get. Cleaned. Up.”

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

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

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

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

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

But that’s for another day.

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

– – –

Thank you for reading! 🤍

in control || predator & prey || main masterlist

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

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

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 9 months

Note

Bestie its me ur fave Nathan Bateman defender 💅💅 can I request anything Nathan? Like free range bestie (ik for some authors it's a hassle to be requested something with no info but its ok if u dont) like go crazy with him. Just need more Nathan content ❤️❤️ ily and thank you bestie 🤸‍♀️

ANYTHING NATHAN? YOU GOT IT. (I'm so sorry what is this? What have I written? Help.) ILYSM❤️

Nathan Bateman x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: Nathan's a pretty heavy sleeper.

A/N: Nathan and Reader are already in a relationship.

Warnings: somnophilia, I'm gonna say dub con because Nathan is asleep and it is only vagely hinted at that the consent has been previously established, blow job, fingering, swearing, typos, overuse of italics, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 991

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While you weren’t sure what time Nathan went to bed last night, or what time it was now (other than early morning), but, you did know that he had decided to sleep in your bed. Not his.

His beard was tickling your shoulder, his gentle and even breaths warming your back.

One arm was slung over your waist while the other, in classic Nathan fashion, was pressed against the headboard at an angle you would have assumed was uncomfortable.

You needed to stretch. And, despite the comfort of waking up in his embrace, he was oldly warm. A human furnace. How he wasn’t sweating astounded you.

It seemed impossible that someone that slept naked could produce so much heat.

Carefully, you wiggled out from underneath his arm. Trying your best not to wake him or jostle the bed too much.

You were nearly home free, out without being a disturbance, when somehow you caught Nathan just as he was moving in his sleep.

A sigh escaped your lips, ready for a Textbook Nathan grumble. But it never came.

He had just moved with the push and was now sleeping soundly flat on his back, part of the bedcovers twisted around his calf.

Huh.

Seemed like he was a heavy sleeper.

He must have come to bed late.

You chewed at your bottom lip as a wicked thought started to grow in your mind.

He looked so peaceful, innocent even. If such a word could ever be used to describe Nathan. Especially since he had a habit of grooming his public hair into ridiculous shapes. Something you were sure he only really started doing to amuse you. Currently it was a heart.

Perhaps it was time for a little revenge for all the times he woke you up at 2am with his face between your legs.

Languidly you moved a little closer, running the tip of your forefinger up the length of his dick. Just to judge the reaction, see how heavy of a sleeper he really was.

Nathan’s breathing didn’t even change.

You grinned.

Still keeping your eyes on his face to watch for any signs of waking, you laid down on your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows and leaning over to suck the tip of his cock into your mouth.

Nothing.

You moved your body closer, risking leaning partially on his thigh and hip, as you licked up the length of him, swirling your tongue around the head and teasing his slit.

His cock jumped under your attention, quickly hardening as Nathan’s breathing hitched ever so slightly. The rise and fall of his chest increasing even as his eyes stayed closed.

You pumped him a few times, smearing your saliva along the thick length of him as a smile pulled on your lips.

While you missed Nathan’s moans and grunts of pleasure, there was something satisfying about having him at your mercy.

You took him into your mouth again, bobbing up and down slowly, trying to let him get deeper each time.

Usually Nathan’s bucking hips (even when he tried not to) made it difficult to deepthroat him, his size alone was enough to make the activity strenuous. And you’d never quite been able to manage it without gagging.

Now however, without his instant squirming you found that you were able to take him deeper than you had before, relaxing your throat as best you could and swallowing around him.

You hummed, getting a little carried away as your own arousal started to burn between your legs.

The idea of maybe being able to take all of him in your mouth made you a little lightheaded, forced you to rub your legs together to just take the edge off.

You picked up the pace, moving up and down, still managing to swallow a little more each time.

His cock was hot and heavy in your mouth, the girth made your jaw throb but you didn’t care as you continued to take him deeper.

Finally you couldn’t ignore the ache between your legs any longer, and you slid one hand down, under your pyjama bottoms for some relief.

Nathan’s breathing had increased exponentially. Small huff of air, and little whispered moans escaping his lips as he still stayed inexplicably asleep.

Part of you wondered what he was dreaming about.

You circled your clit, Nathan’s little groans of pleasure driving you wild as you filled your mouth with his cock.

You were nearly there, almost at the base, just another few centimetres and you could bury your face into the neatly trimmed curls between his legs.

“Fuuuck,” Nathan hissed between his teeth, gasping as he woke up fully to the sight of you. “Oh god, baby,” he whined, stretching back for a moment to try to stop himself from thrusting upwards, “taking me so deep.”

He groaned obscenely. Trying to get himself under control by sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, anything to distract himself from the warmth of your mouth.

That was when he noticed your hand down the front of your pyjamas.

And he lost it.

He moaned loudly, grabbing hold of your shoulder, trying to warn you. But it was too late. He came hard, unable to control the mindless bucking of his hips as he filled your mouth and throat.

The timing, thankfully, had just been right. You had been breathing out as he came and managed to not choke to death on his release.

He gasped as you kept sucking, milking him for every last drop he could give, before pulling away and grinning.

“Good morning.” You smiled.

“Good fucking morning.” He breathed, laying back heavily against the bed.

You chuckled.

He sat up a little to look at you. “What time is it?”

You shook your head, “I’m not sure, I-”

“It’s pussy eating time, that’s what it is.” He growled as he pounced on you, smothering you with kisses as you laughed.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @mbakubabe @whatthefishh @romanarose @pimosworld @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial

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#nathan bateman #ex machina #nathan bateman x reader #x reader #nathan bateman x you #x you #nathan bateman x female reader #x female reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #x fem!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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twigg96 · 1 month

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If u havent already done it,, hcs for dethklok w a very physically affectionate s/o ? Like one that is always down to cuddle n stuff

Hello my sweet Anon! No I haven’t written anything like that yet!! I hope you like these HCs

Nathan - While Nathan himself is a gigantic teddy bear who is touch starved beyond belief. He does find the act of being propositioned with cuddles and touches to be bloody vomit inducing for several reasons. The first being that cuddles and intimate touches took just that... intimacy. And truth be told Nathan wasn't the best when it came to that realm of being. Sure he could pretend. But he hated how nervous he became when his leg touched his partner's, uncertain if the tingles of excitement he felt were ever reciprocated. He hated how sweaty his palms became holding his SO's knowing full well that they could feel just how moist he was becoming just thinking of where that could lead. Marriage and kids of course... and he hated that his mind took him down a futuristic rabbit hole that got his heart broken more times than he ever realized. But his partner... never seemed to mind. Their head on his chest during movies they listened to his heart beat and breathed with him through the panic. Kissed his sweaty knuckles and eased a hand over his bouncing knee. They whispered that they were scared too. But that was an important part of intimacy no one ever talked about. The anxiety and the fear that came with every touch the one that eased with time and with every breath shared until it was hardly noticed anymore and soon two souls became one.

Pickles - The little drummer was not a man who was overly touchy to begin with. People could thank his abusive parents and sketchy past for his fear of intimate touches. He'd duck away from a hug faster than most at the beginning of a relationship. He wasn't repulsed by touches. He'd probably even pull his partner in for hugs and cuddles. But he had boundaries he expected his partner to understand and respect just as he knew his partner had their own he would respect over anything else. There were times that he would pull his partner into his embrace all day. Most of those times alcohol or other substances were involved, other times he or his loved ones were in a heightened emotional state. He hugged people the tightest then with all his heart and soul. He held them to tell them he was there. He wasn't going anywhere. Burying his face in the crook of their neck, his beard scratching against the skin of their neck he held them tight to help them relax. And when his asthma hit and his anxiety washed over him the most was when he needed his partner to step in and return the favor.

Murderface - William likes to pretend that he is as macho as they come. And sure he pretends for a while. He pretends that he's a sexual extraordinaire, has a 20 meter defeater, and lives without a single fear in the entire world. He pretends for a while when he first meets his partner... because he never expects to catch feelings. He ever expects to see them again. But the fact of the mater is... Murderface is entirely too scared... for much of anything when it comes to anything intimate with his partner especially when he starts a relationship with his partner. It takes a long time for him to open up to his partner. To let them touch him so intamatly and with so much trust that they won't hurt him. Because the truth of the matter was that was what he was scared of most. Getting close. Comfortable. Then being discarded and forgotten like yesterday's trash. He hated that feeling. He hated it more that he had grown used to it. So when the couple were watching one of his favorite movies... maybe a boring documentary and his partner's full attention was on the screen not on their phone, not talking to some other guy... he felt himself grow comfortable... wrapping his arm around their shoulder he pulled them close kissing their temple.

Skwisgaar - For the Swede cuddling and touching came in the form of sex so often that he became complacent to the idea that cuddling only came to those in the throws of passion. When his partner tried to hug or hold him in public it sprang to life a problem the blonde had to either excuse himself to the bathroom for. Although many times he simply would try to pull his partner into the alleys and closets to get some alone time. One night when his partner comes to bed they wear the most revealing clothes they could find, crawl into bed and cuddle up close to him, their fingers ghost his skin as they lay sweet kisses across his collar bone, neck, and jaw. Just when Skwisgaar is positive he's getting lucky, his partner pulls away. Touch therapy. That's what they call it. They want to retrain his brain into learning they can touch him without always getting laid. At first he fights the idea. Then his partner cuddles close once more telling him to close his eyes. He does, not because they said so of course... but because he was getting blue balls and it hurt... But... eventually he understood. The quietness, the sensuality without the sexuality... it was nice. Comfortable.

Toki - This boy is just as touchy feely as his partner. It makes other people uncomfortable how clingy they are to each other. Stage 5 clingers would not be a stretch to describe either of them. Velcro Partners. If they're seen apart it's not because either of them want to be alone.

#anon request #thank you for the ask!#metalocalypse #dethklok #skwisgaar skwigelf #pickles the drummer #nathan explosion #toki wartooth #william murderface #cuddles #imagine metalocalypse #metalocalypse headcanons

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leoluved · 11 months

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Nathan and soft sex?

heavenly praises (n.b)

summary: nathan knows he isn’t the greatest with emotions, but still, he hopes to prove his love to you. one way or another. warnings: smut 18+, established relationship, fem reader, porn without plot, unprotected sex, creampie, nathan probably being a lil ooc, there’s one mention of reader having long(ish) hair, nathan being a sweetheart (for once n don’t get used 2 it).. i died n came back 2 life.. fr. word count: 1.7k

‧.₊˚༄

If Nathan Bateman prided himself on anything. It would be his intelligence. Maybe his persistence.

Shit, his dick could be a runner up, too.

He couldn’t find much pride in his emotions, however. Nathan wouldn’t stake his life on it.

You probably wouldn’t either.

He quickly shakes his head out of his thoughts as he sits in the dimmed room, eyes trained on the movement on screen, testing and retesting. The ones and zeros becoming a language he’s now perfectly fluent in.

Make that four languages he’s fluent in.

The sound of socks shuffling on the cold floor brings his attention to the door. A beep, a blue light. Soon enough you’re shuffling in with a cup in your hand.

“You need to take a break.”

He offers a slight smile, simple hand waving you over while he turns his head back to the computer and begins typing again. You sigh, trying to fight the growing smile on your face as you tiptoe closer towards him, setting down a simple coaster on his desk and placing the glass of water down gently atop.

Nathan’s hand wraps around your waist as his hand settles on your hip. You smile widely now, looking down at him while he presses his face into your side.

After a couple minutes, you hear his muffled voice poke through the silence.

“You’re right.” You quirk an eyebrow, your own hand halting on the action of petting his buzzed head. Puzzle pieces clicking together in your head the second Nathan’s hand moves to grab the cheek of your ass.

“I think I need a break.”

The moment he raises his head to meet your gaze, he swiftly stands. Pressing his palms to the back of your thighs.

“Jump.” He coos into your ear. You’re quick to follow his directions, linking your arms behind his neck to stabilize yourself.

He brings you to the bed, setting you down gently atop the white duvet covers that were still tossed around from the morning. You can hear Nathan’s voice so clearly in your head, it causes you to smile.

“What’s the point of us making it if we’re just gonna get back in tonight anyway?”

It’s rare Nathan expresses his emotions through words with you. You’re lucky enough if you get a simple matter of fact statement about any feeling he’s ever had.

Even so, you know he loves you, even when you have your fights. Even when he gives you the silent treatment and pretends you aren’t there. When he scoffs at the slightest of words you utter and whenever he rolls his eyes at your attitude.

But in moments like this, when you feel the heat of his breath as he whispers the sweetest things into your ears, the scrape of his beard against your skin as he sucks bruises into your neck.

You tend to accept him in all his weaknesses.

He slowly strips you of the waffle knit shirt you had stolen from his closest, pressing open mouthed kisses to the valley of your chest. Nathan relaxes as your hand flies to his head, sighing softly as he gets closer to your nipples. Lips wrapping around one while his hand snakes up to tweak at the other with his fingers.

He allows himself to snicker as you thrust your hips up into him. You simply whine while you claw at his shirt.

Nathan’s lips are quick to cover your own, a hopeful distraction while he takes his time removing your sleep shorts, raking his fingers gently over any exposed skin. You’re lost in him, not even noticing he’s been trying to undress himself while distracting you.

His fingers run over your clothed mound, and you shiver at how soft he’s being. Nathan could be gentle if he chose to be. But the choosing itself was rare. Pushing your undies to the side, his middle finger circles around your clit. You sigh, opening your legs wider for Nathan to have more room. He simple chuckles at your enthusiasm and adds another finger to his rotation.

You sweetly whimper, and the sound itself sends a spark straight to Nathan’s cock. He finds himself losing his restraint.

He brings his sweatpants and boxers down to his thighs, just enough to release himself, still pressing sloppy kisses onto your throat and neck. Nathan’s quick to remove your panties, tossing them aside.

You’re much too eager to use a hand to pull him closer to you before he even gets a chance to line himself up to your entrance.

With a soft grunt, he runs himself through your slicked folds, teasing your hole with the head of his cock over and over. You whine, a silent beg for him to hurry. He’s taking his time; comparing to all the other times he’s simply bent you over and fucked you. You gasp into the crook of his neck when you finally feel him enter you.

It’s something so intimate, the way his hand rests on your hip. Like he’s struggling to hold himself back from squeezing. How he sighs before stopping his movement, allowing you to adjust. Once you have, he grinds himself so deeply into you, you’re sure you can feel the outline of him. It makes your vision go white, while you’re whimpering and scratching at his back for more.

“Nathan—Please–“

Your pleads are shut out by him placing his lips over yours again, he pulls himself fully out before flipping you over onto your stomach. He brings his hands to your hips again, before thrusting himself back inside you. You whine out, body starting to slump against the soft covers. Nathans’ quick to prop you back up, pressing your back against his chest with his hand around your neck. He holds his hand there for balance without squeezing.

“Fuck, you feel incredible, I can never get enough of you.” His voice is raspy, most likely from lack of use throughout the day.

Nathan’s fingers reach for your clit, and you can already feel the twitch in your stomach muscles indicating your peak. You turn your head to the side and admire the look on Nathan’s face, focused, determined. Like you’re a puzzle waiting to be taken apart and put back together. He squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. Bringing you to him for a kiss.

The way he caresses you brings you closer and closer to release. Nathan collects all the hair away from your face, using the hand resting on your throat as a makeshift ponytail tie. The gentle brush of his fingers is what snaps the knot that had been building inside you.

Feeling his thrusts start to stutter you quickly pull away from the kiss. A rushed, embarrassing whisper you’re thankful only Nathan has to hear.

“Cum inside me, please—“

He’s quick to follow orders, he thrusts himself deep inside you, grunting lowly and the feeling of you clench around him. You feel the pulse of his seed, warmly filling you.

Nathan smugly smiles against the side of your head.

“Don’t get too used to my kindness.”

#˚ . ☆ ⋆。˚ — my writing.#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #nathan bateman imagine #nathan bateman #ex machina imagine #ex machina fanfic #ex machina #oscar isaac imagine #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader

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vole-mon-amour · 1 year

Text

3x09, part 5.

Crying.

IDK but something about Brendan shipping Roy and Jamie and calling them 'the best couple' in an interview all while playing Beard like THAT? It brings character and makes me feel things. He's such a proud inclusive dad. I love this show so much & I'm not ready for this to be the last season ;_;

Also, from an interview with Hannah and Juno, for s2, when Juno said that Jason texted her and told her that he "had something very important/personal' to him and that he'd love for Juno to take a look at it. I can't get over Jason's personality, at least what he seems to be, especially comparing to his ex that cheated on him & the things she herself creates. The differences between them and how it shows!

I think we are absolutely blessed with this show. I love it, despite any possible hiccups. I just love it.

"Captain, count us off."

The look Ted and Jamie share. <3 When is Ted adopting Jamie? Bc Jamie looking up to him like that, definitely a good friend and a father figure. Can't stop thinking about "Way to make that extra pass" and their entire storyline. Also, the fact that the cast said that Phil has puppy eyes and that if anyone is able to convince the writers of something, it's probably Phil. There's so much going on here. Also, Ted being proud of Jamie's "the sky is your limit", for letting Sam do it. I— Do you feel me? Do you???

The best show ever. Crying happy tears. I'm not sure, but it does feel like that moment Phil talked about, "not only the characters, but also the actors feeling ..." I forgot the word he used, sensitive? Vulnerable? But yeah. The feeling of sharing something big together. This love.

I see what they did there & I'll gladly allow it. Colin gets it. When is it going to be revealed (again and louder) that Jamie is bi? Wheeennnn???

Also, Trent's book is gonna be AMAZING. I'd read that.

Colin telling Jamie that he loves him "so much" :')))))) The fact that these two are friends in the show AND irl. I love seeing it.

I need gifs of this wonderful boy.

The real stars of this show.

Almost there, Nathan. Can't wait for this storyline with Rupert to end. Nathan really should have gone with the guys when offered or just go hangout with Jade.

I ship them, your honor. The idea of Trent pining, and pining, and getting to spend so much time with Ted without saying anything more than platonic. *sigh* Yeah, this does things to me. I hope that book is worth it.

#natiswatching #ted lasso #brendan hunt #jason sudeikis #jamie tartt #colin hughes #ted x trent #trent crimm

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writefightandflightclub · 1 year

Text

Uninvited: Nathan Bateman x fem!reader

Summary: Nathan attends the Met Gala, but there’s something missing. That’s you. (If you’re literally Elon Musk please don’t read this 😂.)

Genre: mainly fluff, getting together fic.

Warnings / rating: mature for implied smut but that’s not the focus. Swearing, alcohol mentions (Nathan has a beer). Boss / employee relationship. Some reader self-esteem issues. OOC Nathan, probably (I’m writing him older and a bit more mellow here).

Author’s note: it’s not that deep and it’s not that clever. I just want Nathan to take me to the Met Gala, okay? So, welcome to my self-indulgent drivel 😝 Probably typos, this was only ever meant to exist for me so I didn’t spend a ton of time on it, but hopefully it’s coherent enough?!

You startle when you hear the door to Nathan’s apartment click open, feeling only a little relieved when you see the familiar silhouette of Nathan by the door.

Shit.

He’s not supposed to be back yet! And you’re not supposed to be here at all! He should still be out at the Met Gala, and you -his long-suffering assistant- should very clearly be in your own home on your night off. Certainly not stretched out on your boss’ couch in sweats, eagerly shovelling this snaffled, bougie ice cream into your mouth.

You spring into action immediately, slamming the lid of your laptop shut as first priority. The last thing you would want is for Nathan to realise you’ve been meticulously monitoring the socials, your prime objective to swoon hard over every photo and tik tok of him in that suit on that infamous red carpet - Getty Images be damned for their slowness. Next, you shove the tub of ice cream away from yourself, as though Nathan will be able to tell -somehow- that you have been near crying into it all evening. Your plight is quite a singular one, after all. Not only was your boss - who you are secretly crushing on, by the way - slated to attend the Met Gala without you (the audacity!) but he looks so good whilst doing it that you could easily form a puddle and seep between the cracks in his hardwood floors.

So, when he enters, you spring up from your seat guiltily, and a little too fast, swaying with an instant head rush. Or, perhaps, the sudden light-headedness is because you have finally gotten a good look at Nathan as he steps into the soft light, cast throughout the open plan apartment.

You drink him in and God, he looks even hotter in real-life in this formal get-up. The suit’s a little bland for the Met Gala, granted, even if you had begged his monochrome, minimalist ass to go all out for the occasion. Still, it is tailored to perfection. The details add a little flair beyond his usual attire, a subtle sheen on the lapels, and the fabric cut in the deepest midnight blue, complementing his golden brown skin perfectly. It sits just right too with his metallic silver frames, as well as the few grey hairs which sneak through his dense raven beard, glinting like solder and circuitry. He looks like the night sky, welcoming and deep and dense and alluring as all hell, his eyes hooded, enthralling planets.

To sum up, Nathan looks divine, especially given that he has now loosened off his bow tie - and a few buttons on that crisp white shirt. Given that he has his hands shoved in his pockets, tugging the luxe material tight over his hips and thighs - and ass, no doubt. You bet he looks damn good from behind too.

As he stands there, looking up at you from beneath his lenses in that singular way which turns you into putty, you will your face to contort in any one of the accepted formations - a smile in greeting, perhaps - but, instead, you get the feeling that’s not quite what you’re pulling off. Not at all. In fact, you get the distinct impression that you’re looking at him like a goldfish butting its head up against the side of a tank.

For a moment you feel slightly sick at the thought that he might have returned early because he brought someone home, and you manage to tear your eyes away from his deep, dark allure long enough to scan the place, satisfied to find out that he is indeed alone.

Nathan’s thick brows knit in concern as he surveys you, yet you can detect the faint hint of amusement in his tone when he speaks. You know him well enough to catch the subtle smirk beneath that glorious beard. “You okay, honey, or are you having some kind of aneurism?”

Well. Something is certainly happening to you. He is having an… effect, that’s for sure.

“Sorry. I’m…” You clear the sudden frog in your throat. “I’m not at my apartment. I’m… here.”

Wow. You’re not doing too well, are you?

Meanwhile, Nathan looks at you like you’re stupid, and you decide you’d probably have to pay a lot of dollar to your therapist to figure out why that makes you even hotter for him. Better left alone, you wager. “Yeah. I noticed, sweet cheeks.”

“Sarcasm. That’s a new one,” you say sarcastically, your cheek finally tugging on a smile.

He looks handsome. Beautiful. And, you slouch despondently as you all too suddenly recall your own sloppy sweats situation. He wasn’t supposed to see you like this. Especially not after spending the whole evening rubbing shoulders with the most beautiful people, donned in the most dazzling finery imaginable. He definitely wasn’t supposed to have that unfavourable comparison rattling around in his big fat genius brain, now was he? You already felt like you weren’t good enough for the likes of him.

Regardless, in the next moment, you trip over a million words, wanting to offer up some explanation for your presence, and yet all you manage to say is… precisely nothing. Therefore, to distract yourself from him - and to distract him from wondering what you’re doing here - you sidle over to the fridge, grabbing him a beer and you a mineral water. He looks grateful when you pop the cap, crossing the space to hand it to him, condensation pooling on your fingers.

Instantly, he takes a casual swig, and while he does, you finally manage to compose yourself. At least, halfway there.

“Nathan,” you say plainly. “You do know the Met Gala is happening now, right? I know I put it in your calendar.” You toss your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing towards the humongous TV. “Also, you were there. I saw you on E.”

His eyes crinkle subtly at the corners, with a fondness and a familiarity which -honestly- takes you aback. He doesn’t even seem to mind that you’re in his apartment. This is all… very unexpected.

After all. He’s not supposed to be here! Then again… neither are you.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time.

Nathan huffs out a breath, impatiently. “You first.”

Well, that’s fair, you suppose. You are in his house uninvited.

As your brain trips over excuses, you barely register when Nathan’s warm hand grips you by the elbow, seamlessly guiding you back towards the couch. Once arrived, he nods for you to take a seat alongside him, plonking his ample ass down.

You bite your thumb nail. “I’m so sorry. I thought I’d finish up some work while you were out.” It sounds plausible, right? No. It doesn’t sound plausible at all, you realise, as Nathan openly surveys the scene on the coffee table before you. He delivers a knowing quirk of his eyebrow. Your palms start to sweat. Your game is all the way up, it looks like. “And then, okay. I ended up watching E, ordering take-out, and eating all your ice cream.” You opt to leave out the part about foaming at the mouth over every snap of him to have graced the internet this evening. Nathan’s ego is huge enough, right, to forego that detail? “It’s just so much nicer here than my shitty place. And I didn’t think you’d be back for ages.” Well, it’s not a lie. However: the whole truth is that you’d simply wanted to be with him tonight, and this -sad as it might be- was as close as you could get. “And I.. God. I just looove the Met Gala, okay?”

“You do?” Nathan’s mouth twitches into an amused smirk as he witnesses your combo of panicked excuses and excited gushing.

“Not that I’d know, obviously. But hey! Clearly I love it more than you do! Why in the hell are you doing back so early anyway?” Nathan simply regards you stoically, and you clap your hands to your cheeks, suddenly imagining the worst. “Oh god. Nathan. What did you do?”

Nathan all but rolls his eyes. “Calm down, honey. Calm down? Well. That’s a nice notion, but you can’t. You can’t quite manage to calm down when he’s looking at you so attentively, long lashes fanning intermittently over his big brown eyes, blown-out and obsidian in this dim light. Not when he’s dressed in that tux jacket and crisp white shirt, the top few buttons loosened off. When the scent of his expensive, intoxicating cologne is wafting over you. “I managed to behave myself. More or less,” he reassures.

“First time for everything.”

“Uh huh.”

“Though it is only like 9pm.”

“Still plenty of time to be naughty, huh?”

Shit. That hits different. You’re used to his flirting by now. His crude comments. His explicit banter. Of course. But you could swear he injected a touch more grit into his deep, robust voice this time. Could swear he looked at you some kind of way, his eyes hooded, animated by a languidly catching spark. And, thinking of what being “naughty” might possibly involve? Well, it has your brain short-circuiting all over again.

That system failure is the only reason you fail to protest as Nathan shifts to the edge of the couch and reaches towards your laptop. It all feels a little blurry and unreal. You can barely even hear the words he’s saying anymore over your loud thoughts. Your thoughts of the bare patch of skin at his neck. His warm, veined hands peeking from beneath those white cuffs. The way his suit jacket tugs taut over his cultivated shoulders as he moves.

“You know who was on my fucking table?” Nathan begins casually, another indicator of his familiarity and comfort with you. “Royce Whistler’s Mother-Broadbean, or whatever the shit his name is. Do you remember - that blonde prick? The guy who called himself a businessman because he played Rollercoaster Tycoon 5 one time or whatever?” You look at him blankly, and Nathan takes that as a sign to continue sharing. “I played him at squash one time - and he got so pissed off at losing he pulled his pants down and stuck his flat, pasty ass up against the glass. Mooned the entire board. Fucking unreal.”

You’re half-listening, but your brain still hasn’t kicked fully into gear. Still hasn’t quite caught up with the fact Met Gala Nathan is here, in front of you, never mind blathering on about his table mates. Your brain certainly has not caught up by the time Nathan is leaning forward, lifting the lid of your laptop with a knowing smirk. “Let’s see what you were up to while I was gone, huh?”

Oh shit.

Your brain catches up so quickly now that your thoughts cause a pile up, and yet there is no time left to stop him.

You could swear that you almost pass out from embarrassment when Nathan finally flips the lid, his action revealing every one of the tabs you have had open this evening. Naturally, of course -just your luck- the first just had to be the most incriminating, didn’t it? He just had to see your BlueBook image search for “Nathan Bateman Met Gala hot”.

His eyes spark, his gaze electric as he drinks in the screen. He sinks his pearly teeth into his plush lower lip and practically grunts. “Searching for wank fodder of your boss, honey?” He clicks his tongue in what you hope is faux disappointment. “And you didn’t even go Boolean.”

“Heh. Trying to,” you scoff, the response -in your head- forming a suitably scathing comeback, alluding to how you couldn’t even find any hot pictures actually because he’s so gross or whatever. Well, you realise quickly that you messed that one up entirely, especially as a smug, lopsided grin blooms on Nathan’s pretty mouth.

Honestly, you were not far off giving yourself a little treat. If Nathan had been a little later he may even have walked in on it. You cheeks heat with shame, though it’s hardly the first time you’ve had sexual thoughts about him. Not even close. Still, it’s not like you are keen for him to know that.

In haste then -nay, desperation- you reach to slam the lid closed, narrowly missing Nathan’s fingertips in the process as he begins to skim effortlessly through your other tabs.

Then, springing to your feet with a surge of guilt once more, you scoop the laptop up against your chest, like an ailing quarterback cradling a football in the closing minutes of the Superbowl. Damn you and your motor mouth! “I meant… Look, actually, never mind what I meant!” Your voice is growing increasingly high-pitched, and Nathan’s face is becoming increasingly smug. “Why are you here?” you accuse, as if he doesn’t have every right to be. “Why aren’t you at -oh I dunno- The Freaking Met Gala?” You even stomp your foot and jab your finger a little, so help you, in your last ditch attempt to turn the tables. And, certainly, in attempt to deflect before Nathan can probe you any further about that so-called “wank fodder”.

Nathan, for his part, leans back ever so casually and deliberately on the couch, his sturdy thighs spread open and straining against the fabric of his pants, his arms hooking backward over the lip of the couch. The shift makes that crisp white shirt ride up over his stomach, straining the buttons to show you glimpses of his smooth tan skin.

Hnnnggggg.

You feel positively ill with desire at this point, and Nathan, meanwhile, looks effortlessly cool. He even takes a casual swig of his beer. “Meh. Honestly? Was kinda boring. And I couldn’t get the image of the mooning Royce Flat Ass-Coachella out of my head. Put me off my fucking caviar. Also, I thought there might be somebody bang-able there. But who the hell wants to risk losing an eye to some pointy-ass fashion apparatus while you’re going down to beaver town, huh?”

Oh goodness. Poor little rich boy!

All that, and he’s bored. And, on the other hand, what you wouldn’t give to attend the spectacle that is the Met Gala! Your little Museum Nerd heart is positively outraged! “Boring?! Boring, Bateman?! It’s only the most glorious, fabulous institution to exist in modern America!” Highly amused now by your gushing, Nathan stands too. Slowly, and far more calmly than you did, his eyes glowing with a soft, shrouded affection for you, if you’re not mistaken. “Boring, Nathan?!”

“Yeah.” He tightens his lips into a thin line, as though he’s trying to stop himself from saying something he may royally regret as soon as it’s out of his mouth. “Was no fucking fun without you.”

Your eyebrows jump up towards your hairline, your whole torso curling around your still warm and whirring laptop as you tighten it in your arms. You can’t believe the words he’s just spoken. )You especially can’t believe it after all of the hints you’d dropped about wanting to go with him!) Luckily for you though, you’re still having a near out-of-body experience, and so his words fail to register completely. “Boring?! It’s only full of all of the most beautiful, interesting, important people in the country!” you continue, your voice so high and careening now that you’re sure you’re making a mockery of yourself.

Nathan takes a couple of slow, casual steps towards you, still looking at you steadily from beneath his lenses. “Well… almost all of them.”

A swallow bobs down your throat with the unspoken implication, and you dare not follow that thought through to completion.

Then, wordlessly, Nathan shuffles up close to you, and eases the laptop from your grip. He sets it down on the table, and then he turns his gently heating, amused gaze back to you, looking you over in your crumpled sweats.

You swallow, still experiencing cognitive dissonance, Nathan’s words not matching up with what you’ve told yourself for so long - that he could never be interested in you. Instead of acknowledging him then, you instead cling to your futile, part-sensical assertions. “It’s only an unparalleled showcase of the greatest creative costuming of the modern day.” Your argument is losing strength, however. Your voice is breathy and barely there now, as Nathan’s face hovers ever closer to yours.

His voice drops low in his throat, becomes a low, warm rumble which you swear you feel in the pit of your chest. “Maybe. But no-one looked half as cute as you do in these baggy sweats.”

Nope. No way. This isn’t happening.

Your brain is definitely broken now. In fact, all you can do is whimper pathetically as Nathan looks hungrily down at your mouth. Is this some kind of dream? A joke? You have to be sure, before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. Before he makes a fool out of you.

“Really. Nathan. What are you doing here?”

Nathan pauses. Pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. His face goes taut, brows drawing down. “Well. I went to your apartment first, and you weren’t there.”

“Because I’m here.”

“Yeah. No shit.”

You gulp. You gulp as Nathan reaches up to pick a tiny bit of lint from off of your sweater, the gesture so tiny but humungous. His gaze gently, warmly, flits over your face. “Now I’m here too. Asking you…” He sucks air through his teeth, like he’s about to regret all of his decisions in life, but then… he still says it anyway. For the first time in your memory, Nathan Bateman even looks…bashful. “Do you wanna come to The Met Gala with me?”

Your mouth opens and closes wordlessly for a few moments, in complete and utter shock.

“I know, I know.” Nathan concedes, his eyes blinking closed and his palm waving through the air. “I’m a dumb fuck. You’ve been hinting incessantly. To the point of irritation. Beyond even. You’re not subtle, honey. And my timing is beyond shitty. But… what do you think? Will you be my… date?”

You blink at him. Look at him regretfully. “Nathan. I… I can’t. I…”

He quirks a thick eyebrow. Runs a hand over his buzzed head. “Fuck. Why not?”

You have to laugh. This situation is all so completely absurd. But you look down at yourself, your palms gesturing towards your clothes. “I… don’t have anything to wear.”

Nathan purses his lips then, and nods contemplatively, releasing a long-held breath, perhaps even in relief. “So the clothes thing is the issue? The idea of dating your asshole boss doesn’t bother you?”

You swear his eyes have grown uncharacteristically soft, hopeful even, but of course, your mouth runs off ahead of you to ruin the moment before you can even get there.

“I mean. Nathan. I’d go to the Freaking Met Gala with anyone who was willing to get me in there, honestly. Elon fucking Musk if he asked me. It’s not like I’d be fussy.” Nathan gives you a glare. Curls his tongue around his top lip in mild aggravation. And, there it is. That hand settling on his jutted hip. “Of course. I’m not saying he’d get to any bases. Bleuch. I’d ditch him right after the canapés.” You slide your palm over your face, regretting your motor mouth as Nathan eyes you judgementally over the brim of his frames. Holy shit. Why exactly are you still talking? “Wow. I sure wish someone would shut me the hell up.”

Nathan shifts gently, winding his hands around your waist, his fingers clawing into the soft fabric of your hoody like they belong there on lazy Sunday mornings. “You’re in luck, honey. I’ve been dying to help with that for months now.” His thick eyebrow sweeps up suggestively, and you can’t believe this is happening. You feel giddy. You feel like you’re in some kind of modern fairytale and Nathan is Prince Charming. Or, wait… maybe Prince Crude or something would suit him better.

“Nathan!” You emit a dirty laugh and attempt to bat him in the chest, but in that moment he tugs you closer. And so, your palm simply ends up resting lightly against his chest, your fingertips grazing over the bare brow skin beneath the “V” at his neck. Fuck, he looks hot. Feels warm and smooth. Your knees are barely keeping you up at this point.

What in the actual fuck is happening right now?!

“So, how about it?” Nathan prods, giving the closest thing to puppy dog eyes that you’ve seen from the man, the edge on his usually cool, calculating stare completely blunted - only for you. “Will you come with me?”

You want to say yes. Of course you do. Want to jump at the chance. But this is all so surreal you can barely think straight. Can barely imagine a world where you could be the woman who gets to attend a Gala on Nathan “Gift from God” Bateman’s arm. “You’re impossible, Nathan! I mean. You’re asking me while it’s already happening? This is all kind of crazy!”

“I know. You’re right,” he concedes, drawing back from you and clicking his tongue. Shoving his hands back into his pockets. He does indeed look good from behind, you are delighted to confirm.“Don’t know what I was thinking.”

You fold your arms around yourself, getting whiplash. This is all happening so quickly, and now it might not even be happening at all? “Now, wait a second. Let’s not be so hasty.”

Nathan wafts his hand through the air. “No. You’re right. I’ll call that upper east side boutique you obsess over back. What was the name again? I’ll them they don’t need to open back up after all. Tell them we don’t need a last minute gown.”

Your jaw drops and you audibly gasp. “Nathannnnn!”

He turns back towards you, and you can see the spark of mirth in his eyes. Can detect that he’s teasing you. That this whole thing is still very much on the table, if you want it. “Nathan Bateman. Are you seriously taking me to the Met Gala?” you squeal, unable to contain your excitement any longer.

“So long as you don’t ditch me after the fucking canapés, Princess.”

You subdue a face splitting grin, wanting badly to revel in it - but still not quite sure yet what you’ve done to deserve this. Not even the Gala, the gown, all that. Most importantly, this attention from your long-time crush. The man who, over time, has become so much more than your asshole boss. Your close friend. Someone you could even imagine a future with, so help you.

“I promise not to ditch you, Bateman - at least not until the entrées.” His eyes crinkle again at the corners and it makes you feel ten feet tall. “But… I don’t get it, Bateman.” It is your turn to take two steps towards him now. For your gaze to flit gently, warmly, over his face. Over that groomed, raven beard. His tan skin and his huge, brown, earnest eyes. “Why me?”

Your question seems to take Nathan by surprise. He looks a little more severe all of a sudden. More serious. A weight settles into his heavy brow, yet his eyes remain soft beneath it. “Well, kitten. I was -supposedly- hanging out with the most beautiful, interesting, and important people in the country and…”

“A-And what, Nathan?” You swallow, your heart thrumming and voice trembling at the potential implication of his words. He’s not going to say it though. You already know he isn’t going to say it. That “not one of them had anything on you”.

“And… it sucked ass,” Nathan finishes unceremoniously, in typical fashion. “And not in a good way.”

“S-so, you need me to be there?” You’re not above fishing for your compliments. You cast your line, waiting to see what you can manage to reel in.

Nathan’s brow folds with a newer weight. One which he can’t seem to shake off through smugness or humour or deflection. “Fine. You want me to play my fucking hand, honey? Here it is. Met Gala, Schmet Gala. I got there, and I realised that I…” His voice cracks with the weight of a million tiny revelations, hinted at in his eyes and they way they begin to sparkle. But, he doesn’t say it. Not every revelation he may have had tonight. Still, he does say something. He does say just enough. “I just… I realised that I just needed to be where you were.” Nathan reaches up then, and he lifts your chin with the crook of his finger. “So. We can get you a gown, if you want, and we can hit it up.” His eyes flick towards the TV, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. He offers a second option. “We can stay here and eat ice cream and watch E replay my Nathan’s Ass Broke The Internet red carpet moment all night long.” His eyes turn smug and dark, and a hunger intensifies in them as he looks you up and down again. “Or,” he says, slipping his expensive jacket off of his sculpted form, and passing it carefully around your shoulders. “You can go just like this. Technically, it’s now a Tom Ford ensemble. Would get you through the gate.” You even think he’s serious. You even think he’d have you by his side exactly as you are. That he sees you as beautiful, just like this.

You giggle into your palm. “I’m a mess!”

“No. You look good,” Nathan insists, not a whiff of a lie on him. In fact, as he drinks you in, he looks like he’s melting too. Like he might form a puddle and dribble through the floorboards any moment.

You finally allow a giddy, joyful, disbelieving smile to claim your face, and you reach up to fiddle coquettishly with Nathan’s loosened bow tie. “You look good.”

“Oh, I know, honey. Perfect wank fodder right?” He tips your head, allowing his lips to ghost up the column of your neck. He hums lightly when he reaches your pulse point, his mouth tasting your perfume. “Naughty girl. Gonna make you show me later, huh?” He presses a kiss to your throat. “If you want that,” he adds for good measure, and the addition makes you even hotter for him. He’s far softer and more gentle than you ever would have imagined, treating you like an intricate, delicate thing. You’ve seen his hands be careful as he worked his machines, but you never imagined them quite like this on your own skin. As though you were something magnificent. Special.

You feel another surge of embarrassment at the thought of showing Nathan how much he turns you on, as mental images carousel through your mind. You move to dip your face into Nathan’s chest; however, delicately, seamlessly, he crooks his finger to lift your mouth to his instead, his lips covering yours with a soft, earnest kiss. He hums into it, his tongue tentatively twining with yours as you open up for him.

You blink in disbelief as he breaks for air, your lips still tingling from the contact, your arms now hanging limply by your sides.

“Christ, honey. I’d better not kiss you on the red carpet.”

“And why not?!” On the contrary. You want a lot more where that came from.

“You look like a fucking goldfish. That good, huh?” There his crooked finger is again, gently fixing your slack jaw.

Well that won’t do. And so, with a determined, hungry glint in your eye, you pull Nathan back into your kiss by his lapels, slanting your mouth against him, kissing him deep and hungry. Kissing him until there is a moan spooling from his chest. Until, this time, Nathan is the one who is slack-jawed and dumb-founded when you pull away, his eyes fluttered closed and lips still puckered in search of you.

“You’re right,” you agree, surveying his own goldfish face. “No kissing on the red carpet. You’ll just have to grab my ass instead,” you snicker, and Nathan slowly wafts back down to earth. You could swear he even blushes at the suggestion, a crimson flush deepening the colour of his cheeks.

He strokes his hands up and down your forearms, searching your eyes. “So are we doing this? Because I have about 20 people on standby and ready to go.”

“You do?”

Nathan takes your hands. “Yeah. And I know you won’t wanna miss the exhibition tour, right? You big dork,” he teases with a sweet grin - as if he isn’t the biggest dork you know.

You clap your hands to your cheeks then, the situation suddenly feeling less like a fantasy and growing all too real. You feel a sudden flurry of nerves at the realisation there will be so many eyes on you. “I’m nervous,” you admit.

Nathan sighs, begins to grumble under his breath. “Christ. Don’t make me say it.”

You look at him quizzically.

He sighs again. More deeply this time. His words come out rather reluctantly, but no less full of meaning. “You’re gonna be the most beautiful, interesting, important person in the whole fucking joint. And I should know.”

“Oh yeah, Bateman?”

“Yeah. Got bored of those losers after 5 minutes, but you…?” His eyes twinkle again, with sentiments deeper than his words dare illuminate. You can see him rein it in a little. Backtrack. Keep things Nathan-y. Respond in his typical fashion. “Well. It’s been 9 months now and you’re still here. Clearly, you’re annoying enough to keep things interesting, Princess. Not bad to look at either.”

You chide him playfully with your eyes for the backhander, but despite his words, he’s looking at you with nothing but sweetness. “Besides, you’re gonna look like total wank fodder.”

You laugh. “Okay. True. But can we please retire that phrase? Otherwise I just know you’re gonna say it on E, and your publicist will kill me.”

“Publicist schmublicist,” Nathan breezes, and he pulls you into him for another kiss, a smile cracking beneath his raven beard. “Anyway, honey, you started it.”

You protest, bickering back and forth, exchanging snark as Nathan puts his arm around you and guides you out of the apartment. He leads you out of the lobby to where he has a car waiting, and he opens the door for you to clamber inside. Your belly is full of nerves and excitement, and you eye him with fondness as he calls up the boutique -your favourite, but one you are usually priced out of- to confirm you’re on your way over.

You can’t believe your dream of heading to the Met Gala is coming true. But most of all, you’re elated that Nathan wants you next to him. You’d always believed you weren’t good enough for him, but here he is, eager to show you off to the whole world. To have fun with you and enjoy your company.

It’s funny, you think. He wasn’t meant to be here tonight, and nor were you. But somehow, you think, you each ended up exactly where you were supposed to be.

Nathan hangs up his call and turns to you. “You okay?” He smooths a hand up your thigh and you nod, still smiling softly. “What kind of outfit do you want? It’s on me.”

Your eyes glint with mischief. “Nothing pointy.” Nathan takes a moment to catch your drift. “I don’t wanna put your eye out when you visit beaver town later, do I?”

You think you’d like something simple actually. Something to match Nathan. He may be a complicated man, but in many ways he’s so entirely straightforward. It’s one of the many things you like about him.

For a moment, Nathan looks lost for words, a swallow sinking down his throat. You can tell he’s already eager to follow that plan through to completion. “Please. Honey. Tell me we can we skip the after party?” He looks like he can’t wait for what you’re suggesting.

“How long is this ride?” you ask, arcing an eyebrow suggestively.

“What are you saying?”

“So you reckon you’ve got time to get a whole four bases further than Elon ever could?”

Nathan’s eyes glow with something bright and inexplicable. “You’re fucking unreal.”

“Oh, Nathan,” you purr, as he slides up the divider in the front, giving you some privacy. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 10 months

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Bateman Begins Part 39

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Notes: Hi it has been an embarrassingly long time since I’ve updated I am so so so sorry 🦇🖤 Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader Rating: M Warnings: This Ain't a Chapter, It's an Angst Fest Also there will be more in the future; I have an outline

The article is the first thing that throws you.

It probably shouldn’t be an almighty surprise. Vicki has practically been Nathan’s shadow for nearly two months now.

But to see The Scientific Genius of the Prince of Gotham splashed across the front page of the Gotham Gazette is like having a bucket of cold water dumped over your head.

The photo is almost alarmingly intimate.

His glasses have been removed; his beard is neatly trimmed; his eyes are downcast, and his cheeks are tinged pink with a flush, or with exertion

You think from the bowtie that he’s wearing that the photo may’ve been taken the night of the gala, after you left—and before Nathan came to see you, to tell you that there was nothing to worry about

And maybe there truly is nothing to worry about.

All you know is that you see a version of Nathan on the page that you’ve only been privy to in private.

But it’s not just that.

You start to lose Nathan in the shuffle.

Between newly arising social events, Nathan’s additional duties on the foundations that he’s beginning to be more involved with, his nightly activities, and the press coverage that he’s been getting, you feel that you're growing distant.

You still spend nights alone at the mansion, but you hardly spend nights with him at the penthouse anymore.

You still work for him, and you still work on updated forms of the suits, the batarang, the car.

But—

But it doesn’t seem as simple as all that most nights.

It doesn’t feel like you’re just missing one another because you’re both so busy.

It feels like you're missing him because his attention is being drawn elsewhere.

It doesn't help that any attempt that you make to bring it up to

Nathan is met with teasing, or outright scorn.

It goes from, "You're so jealous you're practically turning green, baby," to, "Can you see past yourself for once? Not everything is about you, or us, even."

"You like that it's about you, though."

You can't help but snap back this time. It's been a long night, a longer argument. Nathan is still in the suit; you haven't slept—and you're in no mood to swallow your words or push off his self-righteous smugness

It shuts him up for a moment, at least

With the helmet removed, you can see his raised brows, his briefly stunned shock.

"You wanna run that by me again?" He finally asks.

"Oh, please. That's the first time I've seen you in the suit in damn near two weeks."

"It's come to my attention—"

"Because Vicki Vale brought it to your attention—

"That I have a little more influence in this city than I thought. I can

make changes, help people, without the goddamn suit."

You push out a scoffing laugh.

"Is that what you're calling what you've been up to? Swanning around at parties, batting your eyelashes at the press, cozying up to that, that—"

"That what." He urges you on flatly, urging you to curse in the way that you've clearly been holding back for weeks.

You splutter, face going hot before you finally manage, "That barracuda."

Nathan's brows inch up impossibly further.

"That's the best you can do?"

"I don't trust her."

"Well maybe I do."

It's like a punch in the gut.

Maybe? For Nathan to even insinuate that he might trust her at all feels like the ultimate betrayal.

You want to damn him for trusting anyone but you.

"Does she trust you?" You ask quietly. "Does she know?"

"Know what."

"Know who you are Nathan."

"The suit isn't who I am."

"It's part of you."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be."

That takes the two of you by surprise for a few moments.

Nathan is the first to blink, to turn and step away.

As Nathan turns away from you, pitching his helmet in the direction of the couch, icy dismay courses through your veins.

He leaves you alone in the lab with your pounding heart, heated face, and spinning head.

He invites you to a few events. At least, he tries.

Or, at least, he thinks he tries

It's so throw-away, how he does it now.

He used to make himself a damned nuisance, hound you to get a dress, shoes, bag, whatever it is that you need

Now, he mentions events at the last minute, tells you what time he'll be heading out if you want to go

It feels so low-effort, so blasé that it makes you feel unwanted

You decline over and over again, choosing instead to spend the night in your apartment, working on blueprints with thicker kevlar, more efficient batarangs, added pockets for the utility belt

You ignore how tired he is in the morning, the fact that he's photographed with Vicki at so many of the events that you choose to avoid

It's a little like playing the fiddle as Rome burns.

You know very well that what you're doing isn't helping a damn thing.

Nathan hasn't made changes to the suit in months.

He hasn't asked to see your designs. You haven't offered to show him.

He hasn't been picking through the garbage bin for your scraps.

There haven't been any scraps there to pick through.

It's as if Vicki Vale has created, or perhaps, accentuated, this chasm between you and Nathan.

You've always been of two completely different worlds.

You were raised differently; you've lived differently.

Some of your values and interests are shared, but that may not be enough to bridge this gap.

As it stands, your work at Bateman Enterprises just isn't…Satisfying anymore.

Maybe it's your growing apathy toward Nathan, toward what he's doing there

He isn't involved in the day-to-day of the company, but he's starting to invest his time, his interest, his cash, in charities and businesses around Gotham that need the help

It's not something that you ought to resent him for, or even resent Vicki for

But it's changed how you see him, and how he interacts with you

You start spending less time at the the mansion

You start staying at your apartment again

And when Nathan doesn't gripe about the fact that he still thinks that you live in a shit hole, you make the decision to call it

You apply to another job, just on a whim

It's outside of Gotham, at the S.T.A.R labs facility in Metropolis, with Barry's recommendation.

The rounds of interviews are done remotely. The job offer is generous, and includes moving expenses.

In your grief and loneliness, you're certain that Nathan won't even notice that you've gone, or that you plan on going.

So seeing him turn up at your exit interview is a shock. He waves the HR person out of the room and waits for the inevitable click of the door shutting behind them before he lowers himself to sit across from you.

The room is small and windowless, and almost feels…Sterile.

Nathan's gaze is heavy with something that you can't quite read: Disappointment? Annoyance? Confusion?

"I just think it's the right move," You finally tell him.

He says nothing still, and the nerves that bubble up in you force you to push into the silence:

"I've been here too long."

More silence. More staring. Maybe he's trying to break you down—and it's working.

"It's not the money," You swear.

That seems to amuse him a little, and he draws his glasses from his face, pointedly massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Were you planning on telling me?"

"I turned in my formal resignation two weeks ago."

"Were going planning on telling me," He folds his arms on the table after he replaces his glasses, "That you would be be moving out?"

"The commute between here and Metropolis would be insane—"

"And having Alfred pack up your things and send them o you, that wasn't calculated?"

Of course it was calculated. You swallow thickly, steel yourself, admit: "I didn't think you'd notice."

Nathan doesn't so much as flinch. He just reaches into his back pocket and draws something out, unfolding it before shoving it across the table.

"Sign where it's tabbed," He orders

"What is it?" You frown as he stands.

"An NDA. You know too much."

"We're involving lawyers? Wouldn't it be easier to have my killed?" You joke dryly, drawing the NDA closer.

Nathan says nothing, and you don't dare meet his eye as you skim the contents and initial and sign where it's indicated.

Once you've finished, Nathan snatches the NDA back up and tucks it away again, heading for the door. You turn your head back toward him a little, stomach churning with nerves, with discomfort, with the fear of finality.

He opens the door, and you hear him pause before he leaves, shutting it behind himself again.

You sink back into your chair, take solace in the quiet little space, and let your tears spill.

Tag list: @blueeyesatnight ; @revolution-starter-; @massivecolorspygiant ; @foxilayde; @poedameronsbeard (wouldn’t let me tag); @danniburgh ; @carbonated-beverage ; @brandyllyn ; @missredherring ; @aellynera ; @the-feckless-wonder ; @ew-erin ; @recklessworry ; @xocalliexo ; @youngkenobilove ; @chattychell ; @selfishpresley (wouldn’t let me tag) ; @lorecraft ; @thembosapphicclown ; @emotionalsupportbatfamily ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine #Bateman Begins

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mounts89 · 1 year

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Second Date

Hi everyone, I love reading Mason fanfics here so I figured I’d try to write my own… Please let me know what you think. 🥺

Word count: 1.4k. Just fluff?

“I thought I’d never see you again” you heard as someone had positioned themselves directly beside you at the bar.

“Hey stranger” you smiled, without even looking at him, yet being able to recognize him by his voice immediately.

It had been about three weeks since you’d last seen him, since you’d gone on your first date with Mason.

“Well,” he began whispering in your ear as he had move dangerously close to you, “wouldn’t be much of a stranger if you finally agreed on a day for our second date.”

The truth was, you wanted to say yes to his relentless texts asking you out on a second date. But his life seemed to be so chaotic, and you weren’t exactly ready to bring him into yours. Between uni, work, and the Chelsea internship, you knew it was no use to try to fit someone into your schedule. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I know, I know, I told you I’ve been busy...” you apologized.

“I know, but regardless I’m very happy I’ve seen you again. You look just absolutely gorgeous.”

You turned to look at him for the first time that night, admiring the way he looked under the lights. His hair was more grown out and his beard was messier than the last time you saw him. And his smile. That damn smile that reached his eyes. You knew that if you spent long enough with him, and if you saw that smile long enough, you’d end up caving in and doing anything he’d ask from you.

“Thank you Mase, you look good too.” you smiled at him.

“Two gin and tonics please, my tab” he turned towards the bartender before resuming his conversation with you.

“So I must ask, Y/N. What brings you in here. You’ve been too busy to go out with me but you seem to have time to go out to the clubs in this little black dress.” he said half-jokingly, although you could sense a tone of hurt in his voice.

“It’s my best friends birthday.” you pointed towards your friend who was on the dance floor, dancing with a man she’d had her eye on the whole night.

“And-” you continued “believe it or not it’s the first time I’ve gone out since I last went out with you.“ you said in a serious tone as you pointed at his chest as you felt you were being interrogated.

“Alright, alright missy.” He chuckled before grabbing your hand that had been resting on his chest to interlace his fingers with yours. “No need to get so feisty, I believe you. I’m sorry if I came off defensive.” he finished as he brought your hand close to his lips, placing a gentle kiss.

You’d both been entranced in your own little world, you had not noticed the bartender had placed your drinks in front of you.

Just as you were about to resume your conversation, you were interrupted.

“Hi, you must be Mason. Nice to meet you. Sorry to interrupt but Y/N, I’m going home with Nathan. I’ll pay for your cab home. Don’t wait up, yes I’ll be safe. Love you bye.” your friend said all in one breath as she disappeared following the blonde who was leading the way.

You noticed Mason share a look with the stranger your friend was leaving with as he waved goodbye to both of them.

“So, you talk about me.” Mason smirked at you, getting a boost of confidence, knowing that you talked about him to your friends. Just like he did.

“Mason. You’re focusing on the wrong thing here. She’s going home with a stranger. A blonde one at that. And a short one, too. What if he’s a murderer? What if he kills her on her birthday? Surely no one is that twisted, right?”

He couldn’t help the laugh he let out as he let you rant and he looked at you amusingly.

“My friend’s death funny to you?” you questioned as you found nothing about the situation to be comical.

“The stranger.” he explained, “The blonde, short stranger is my best friend, Nathan. He lives with me. I promise you as soon as I get home, I will make sure your friend’s alive and well. And I will send her to yours back in one piece tomorrow.”

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you let out a laugh, too. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’m sure he’s lovely and to be fair she’s really short so she doesn’t need someone much taller.” you apologized.”

“I promise you she’ll be okay. Plus, I need to have a serious chat with her tomorrow.”

“Why’s that?”

“I need to thank her…” he begins, inching dangerously closer to your ear as he whispers “for finally letting me see you again.” he finishes his thought by pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Your rolled your eyes at him as you looked away while sipping your drink. You’d very quickly noticed that physical touch was his love language, feeling yourself get shy by the affection he was giving you. Your fourth drink in your hand not helping, as you felt the alcohol catching up to you.

“I gotta be honest with you. I’m kinda drunk right now and would love it if you walked me home. It’s about a 20 minute walk. Only if you can?” you said quietly, afraid of what his answer might be.

He smiled at you, giving you a look you couldn’t quite discern. “I would love to.”

You held his hand as you lead the way through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor. Wanting to let him know that you were okay with his touches without saying it out loud.

As you walked on the streets, you noticed it had began to lightly rain, and without saying anything, he places his jacket around your shoulders. Taking the opportunity to bring himself closer to you.

You two chatted as you lead the way, catching up on what you both had been up to since the last time you’d seen him.

Conversation flowed so naturally with Mason. You felt you could talk about anything and be yourself without fear of judgement. Somewhere along the way, it became clear to you that while you had, indeed, been busy, there was another reason you kept trying to postpone your second date with Mason. If you are honest with yourself, it was probably the main reason. You were scared of how much you liked him. You were scared of how easily you let your guard down with him. Especially with him, Mason Mount. Football superstar, Mason Mount, who surely could have anyone he wanted.

“This is me.” you tell him as you stop walking in front of your building.

“Well, Y/N. I had a lovely time on our second date.” he tells you as he gives you a quick hug and kiss to your forehead.

You stay there for a while, enjoying his embrace and taking in his scent.

“This was not our second date, Mount” you say just above a whisper looking down, afraid to look at him.

“We had drinks. We had a lovely chat while I walked you home for about,” he pulled out his phone from the pocket of his jeans “twenty seven minutes… I got you home safe and sound. And before you go up” he took a brief pause placing his hand on your cheek, forcing you to look at him. “I’m going to give you a quick kiss goodnight, if you let me. And that, miss Y/N, sounds exactly like a second date.

You couldn’t help the smile from forming across your face, blushing as you see him mirror it. Finding the whole thing silly yet endearing.

You both lean into each other as he places a chaste kiss on your lips. A barely there kiss, but just enough to keep you wanting more.

“Well then, I guess you’ll have to text me what to wear for our third date.” you tell him, after a few seconds of silence, as you’re about to give him his jacket back.

“I will see you. In less than three weeks this time. And you can give me my jacket back then. Thank you for another lovely date.” he tells you before you disappear into your flat.

Everything you had felt in your first official date with Mason. Hope, happiness, excitement, fear; you now felt times two.

#mason mount #mason x reader #mason mount x reader #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfiction #chelsea fc #footballer fanfiction

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jamiesfootball · 7 months

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Opinions on Nathan Shelley? I think he’s a way more interesting character than people give him credit for and I think the fandom goes way harder on him for his actions than they do on say, Jamie or Rebecca. probably because with Jamie we only see him suck shit and then improve throughout the show but with Nate we get the whole arc. Anyways I’m rotating him in my head microwave sound mmmmmm

I like Nate a lot! I wrote a fairly lengthy post a while back about how him and Ted misunderstood each other throughout season 2. This being tumblr, I can't find that post anymore, but yes. Nate Shelley. Big fan. I love me an insecure, highly intelligent, sensitive nelly who gets one taste of power and accidentally lets it corrupt him. I like a character who has grown used to kindness and respect being expected from him, but never given. I like a little guy whose struggle is that he learns what he thinks is self-respect but is actually just a new form of self-hatred. I like a smol bean who eventually realizes that actually, the kindness was one of the parts of himself he did like, and he has to learn how to do it all over again without falling back into bad habits. I like a gifted kid who never succeeded until he did, but then still didn't know how not to be a disappointment. And I love love love characters who play violins. One of my top weaknesses, that.

Shame the didn't do anything thrilling with his story though. Messy season 3 plot, and way too divorced from the other characters. I did eventually grow to love his girlfriend (once they gave her dialogue that wasn't canned from the box), but honestly I didn't need the focus of it.

Nate's conversation with his dad, while cathartic, didn't feel earned from a directorial perspective. I think even showing us a little bit of his dad cracking in some of the earlier scenes with him would've spoken volumes to get the audience there. Like, I see how it happened, but I didn't see it happen, you know?

Nate and Beard and the loaf of meth? Excellent. 10/10.

The fact that after that initial scene of Nate as a coach we never see him interact with any of the West Ham players again? Booooooo. Missed opportunity. Especially given that West Ham was actually successful throughout his tenure. That could've been interesting parallel to Ted's tenure as a coach at Richmond - the coach who is successful at the game but not necessarily the players vs the coach who is successful with the players but not necessarily the game.

(Yes, I think the football show needed more football.)

Instead we got scenes with Nate and the higher ups at West Ham, who are all some version of worse than him, and while that highlighted how much Nate didn't fit in there, it didn't serve him much in terms of narrative growth.

Oh, and then the finale kind of forgot about him and handwaved the rest of his story. But the finale forgot about a lot of things and then handwaved the rest of the story.

But back to your original question- Nate Shelley? Very interesting character.

#nathan shelley #ted lasso meta #ask box is always open

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girlbossblackbeard · 7 months

Text

s2 brain thoughts: the squeakuel (ep 2)

as a reminder, if u see me posting any of these points as their own posts mind ur business:

-i'm sending my hospital bills to david jenkins for weaponizing thef cuking "you wear fine things well" scene WITHOUT ANY KIND OF WARNING i literally almost choked to death from shock

-hey so what the whole actual fuck is up with transitioning directly from the very painful "you wear fine things well" scene which, as we've already established, has REAL HUMAN CASUALTIES DUE TO THIS USE-CASE, into the "run from me darling" lyric overlayed on top of the god damn shot of ed pAINTING THE BRIDE CAKE TOPPER TO LOOK LIKE HIM AND BASICALLY PLAYING OUT HIS FANTASY OF MARRYING STEDE. david jenkins you have committed crimes

-also!!!!!!!!!! that cake topper has kohl smudged all over it so you KNOW our boy ed has been caressing it against his cheek and sighing longingly

-i know we've all talked about how insane the "ed plays with the wedding cake toppers pretending they're him and stede" scene is but i don't think we've really comprehended how GENUINELY INSANE it is like??? edward teach, blackbeard, the kraken, the scourge of the seven seas, the most fearsome pirate the caribbean has ever known that has recently been on a non-stop slaughtering spree, painted a bride wedding cake topper to look like himself which he then scoots next to a wedding cake topper that looks like stede so he can imagine that he's marrying him. this man carefully rubbed kohl on a cake topper to give it darker skin and darker hair and a BEARD. to make it look more like himself. so he could then. put it next to a cake topper that looked like stede. and pretend. they were getting married. i've written that 3 times now and my brain STILL refuses to fully process those sentences.

-i said it in my first brain thoughts post for ep 1 and i'll say it again: every time im reminded that ed has been crying NON-STOP. EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. for MONTHS. over stede. my wall gains another hole

-the way ed is so delirious in his sadness as he pushes the cake toppers out the window. i don't even have any thoughts on that i feel like all i can do is just note it and let y'all deal with the rest

>>actually I lied, he literally watches them sink into the sea after he pushes them out the window that's so fucked up whomever made that decision to make him do that is so fucked up

-"the sea is restorative isn't it" "YYYYEEESSS QUEEN!!!!!!!!!! I'VE ALWAYS SAID SO!!!!!!!!!!!!" "ohh that guy knows" IS THE MOST UNDERRATED EXCHANGE IN THE ENTIRE SERIES IT LITERALLY HAD ME SHAKING WITH LAUGHTER

-would looooooooooooooove to know what went through stede's head as soon as roach mentioned "some place called China??" like did he immediately think of the kiss or getting sent to the naval academy or the kiss or ed's excitement at the prospect of running away together or the kiss or getting kidnapped by chauncey or the kiss or watching chauncey shoot himself in the dome or the kiss or his flop behavior of running back to his family that doesn't even want him or the kiss or

-the crew of the red flag being so immediately kind and welcoming to stede and his crew <3

-i genuinely cannot wait to watch buttons fully immerse himself in the red flag traditions like he was made to be on that crew

-"how should I put this, your energy is..." can't believe they got hatecrimed like that

-RAT BOY

-HE'S HERE

-OUR BOY IS HERE

-fun fact: i recorded my live reaction to episodes 1 - 3 and posted the clip of my friends and i reacting to lucius coming back because we were quite literally jumping for joy and crying over the reunion and THE illustrious Nathan Foad himself told me it was literally the cutest thing he's ever seen (his words, not mine!!) so we're basically best friends forever now and the rest of my life will be spent chasing the high of the happiness i felt during that interaction

-i am also crying once again over his reappearance and i think that's just gonna happen every time i watch this scene :')

-roach's shocked face when lucius appears is something that can actually be so personal

-the way they all dogpile on top of him because they're so happy to see him bitch what the FCUK

-also stede's STUPID LITTLE "huh!" LIKE??????????? THAT WAS YOUR SCRIBE AND RELATIONSHIP GURU YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER WHERE IS THE ENERGY AND EXCITEMENT AT KNOWING HE ISN'T FUCKING DEAD??????????????

-"i love it" *BIG SMOOCH* "i love all of it" *BIGGER SMOOCH* oh so they're trying to kill me by smothering me in the syrupy sweetness of their love. okay

-okay sorry but lucius's absolutely microscopic furrowing of his brow right before black pete kisses him again. for a split second he had a slight look of sadness which lines up with the very real trauma he's endured and how even in extremely happy moments they can be tinged with sadness - maybe a sadness for the past and the way things could've been if he hadn't been pushed off the boat - and all i can say is nathan foad. ur big powerful acting mind

-we gotta talk about lucius choosing not to reveal that ed had pushed him off the ship in front of the whole crew. i'm still trying to figure out if that was him trying to spare stede's feelings (unlikely considering he lets it all out later), spare black pete's feelings (possible, since he knows black pete idolizes blackbeard), prevent himself from having to relive that trauma in front of his friends when he's not prepared to confront those memories, or a combination of all of the above

-"i fell. off the ship." "that doesn't sound like you. you have impeccable balance, babe" i literally love black pete so much i may legally have to change my name to lucius spriggs

-"toouwelss? what is this? are these jobs?" stede i love you so very much to the moon and back but for the love of god you gotta shut it my guy

-I AM LITERALLY SO EXCITED FOR THE BUTTONS SEA WITCH STORY ARC LIKE IT MAY ACTUALLY BE ON PAR WITH MY EXCITEMENT TO SEE ED AND STEDE PROPERLY REUNITE AND OPENLY LOVE EACH OTHER AGAIN

-ed just. washing the door handle. i dont have any other thoughts

-GODDDDDDD HE'S SERVING SOOOOOO MUCH GENDER WITH HIS LIL HAIR BUN AND MOSTLY CLEANED UP WAR PAINT AND DANGLY EARRINGS AKEFJAPWHFA OPERGJAER

-the way frenchie looks genuinely happy for ed when he says he thinks he got all the poison out of his system and it's a new day :((

-idk much about piracy but i really don't think there's a rule about the new first mate traditionally having to kill the old first mate, i think ed just made that up so someone else would have to kill izzy instead of him. despite everything, despite how low he's sunken into the very dark parts of his mind due to the heartbreak, ed still can't bring himself to deal the killing blow

-"i expect great things from you" might be one of the more chilling lines in that interaction because for THE blackbeard to have not just any expectations from you, but GREAT expectations? that's not a compliment, that's a threat. measure up to what blackbeard thinks you should be or else

-can't comment on the amputation scene too yucky sorry

-stede trying to triangulate ed's coordinates based off of his string of crimes on a map HE drew is me trying to triangulate where tf this season is going based off of buckwild theories i've made up and used as the foundation for even more buckwild theories

-yeah idk what the mushy ass lyrics stede wrote on that map mean but i know they're frighteningly homosexual

-"FUCK YOU. that's how i am" I am SO glad lucius gets to be openly bitchy towards stede it feels like a cathartic release for me personally

-ed's fuckin "heyyyy" to frenchie in the kitchen is both hilarious and unbelievably unsettling

-absolutely obsessed with the writers for once again showing just how scarily observant and intelligent ed is when he calls frenchie out for using his right hand to mime killing izzy even though he's actually left handed

-i really admire how david chose to use a low camera angle that looks up at ed as he reveals to frenchie that he's well aware he hasn't killed izzy yet because taika's performance was already unsettling enough but that specific angle adds so much to his overall menacing presence in that scene

-joel fry's performance in the kitchen scene with ed literally makes me want to bite something he's so good at acting quietly terrified

-this is almost certainly an unpopular opinion but i really would've loved to see more buildup to jim and archie kissing. i just feel like we know NOTHING about her let alone her relationship with jim prior to the two days we've seen them interacting and i feel like that kiss would've felt like a much more satisfying payoff if we had seen more interactions between them before they got to that point. i would've taken delaying that kiss by a few episodes if it meant feeling fully invested in it once it did happen, but i also know the show already has so much material to get through (which is why we should've gotten 10 eps but i digress)

-"hey no one told me this room existed" is giving "i didn't even realize there was piracy happening"

-"take the fuckin leg" is such a perfect line delivery

-love the foreshadowing of olu explaining how the little ships on the war table were all over the place and "some of them were over land"

-roach waxing poetic about the noodles is so relatable

-"jesus christ stede keep your pants on" hands down one of the funniest fucking lucius moments of all time

-sorry but we gotta give a shout out to lucius modifying the chinese fleet uniform so it's sleeveless. the edges are cleanly done so either he was put on tailoring duty at some point and picked it up there or someone on the ship wanted to enable the slayage

-there's something to be said about the fact that the only other man who has lasted being on board the red flag ship is another member of the revenge who was picked up and welcomed into the fold well before stede and the rest of the crew wound up there. something about how stede attracts and retains other people who he can tell are gentle at heart, even if they're putting up a tough front. something about how lucius had bounced from ship to ship until he finally wound up on Zheng Yi Sao's ship where he was allowed to be himself

-"ya don't know............if ya picked up....smokin....." nathaniel buttons my beloved

-OOOOF stede's guilty face after lucius talks about how he must've picked up smoking somewhere. after the crushing guilt he already feels about the ed situation this definitely would've weighed extremely heavy on him

-MY SPICY LIL RAT BOY IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME

-"what the hell is going on in towels" wee john my beloved

-look i know izzy is on the brink of death but he genuinely looks kinda beautiful before ed wakes him up from his shock induced coma and i won't apologize for that

-"my leg" izzy is so fred rechid coded

-"it's up in leg heaven now" i need to know if ed said that as a way of metaphorically digging the knife into izzy and getting back at him for trying to force ed to send stede to doggy heaven in season 1

-i dont have the emotional capacity to dive into the ed and izzy shooting scene rn but just know it destroyed me on a metaphysical level

-"too scared to do it yourself" no because unfortunately now im thinking about ed thinking through taking his own life but coming to the realization that he can't do it. whether it's because of childhood christianity trauma and thinking he'll be sent to hell for doing so or because he knows he can't follow through with it himself if there's still a tiny shred of hope that he'll reunite with stede and everything will be okay again, he always has to outsource the big job

-also, very interesting choice to have almost jovial classical music playing in the background of the ed/izzy scene. it definitely undercut a lot of the tension compared to how supremely uncomfortable and anxiety-inducing the scene would've been if it were dead silent behind the dialogue

-"i loved you...best i could"

-"i've got an ex-wife, two messed up kids probably" LMAO stede acknowledging he would have no way of knowing how fucked up his kids are because of him

-"sounds like you're quite the fuck-up pal" "yeah, i am! and im alone! talk to pete. don't be like me" ohhhhh my god stede is in just as much agony as ed is over this breakup he's just been using his polite society social skills of saving face and never showing how truly devastated you are to others to cover up how supremely messed up he is over all of it. he is BEGGING lucius to talk to pete and NOT make the same mistakes he did because maybe if he can prevent lucius from bottling it up and actually deal with this in a healthy way he can make up for a fraction of all the hurt he's caused not only ed but lucius as well. maybe if he can get lucius to talk to pete he can absolve himself of some of the soul-crushing guilt he feels over how his actions have irreparably damaged the people he cares about the most. maybe if lucius and pete are able to work through this trauma and still come out the other side loving each other just as much or even more than they did before, he can believe that there's still hope for him and ed.

-ed choosing to put on the cravat for what he believes is going to be his last action on earth before dying because he's resigned himself to his fate but is still scared shitless by it and wants that modicum of comfort that stede will always be able to provide him no matter how badly he hurt ed is giving me the urge to find the nearest cast iron skillet and loony toons my skull

-"some people are just broken no matter what you do" noooo why do i feel like lucius was talking about himself when he said that to stede about ed ://

-oof i know they were an unnamed character but fang tried to save someone who went overboard during the storm and wasn't able to :(

-GGGOOOODDDDDDD izzy looks so fucking hot and badass all soaking wet and leaning up against the rigging after shooting ed jesus christ

-"finally" ed was so relieved to have his pain finally end. even after his journey of self discovery in the next episode im really curious how he's going to deal with having to confront the pain he thought he escaped in addition to the pain he inflicted on others while failing to cope with that pain and stopping at nothing, including nearly killing the rest of the crew, to end it

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #edward teach #ofmd s2 #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 spoilers #lucius spriggs

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marc-spectorr · 2 years

Note

Give me some Nathan Bateman content 😌

pairing: nathan bateman x reader

warnings: mentions of sex and sex machines, no smut tho lol

a/n: ask and you shall receive, nonnie. also this is way more than five sentences but it’s my first nathan drabble so here ya go!

“So…?”

“So?”

“So… what do ya think?”

Nathan flops down beside you as your mind wraps around the gift he’d planted at the foot of the bed.

Of course, you know exactly what it is. Your mind has temporarily short-circuited since your fuck buddy decided to build (and personalize?) this for you solely because he’ll be at a tech convention for two weeks, and three days ago, drunk-you had slipped out how much you were going to miss him.

“I-I can’t believe you made me a fucking sex machine.”

He grins smugly at your reaction, folding his arms behind his head against the pillows. “I’m still waiting to hear a ‘thank you.’”

You don’t indulge him. Not yet, anyway. You crawl to where the machine is to study its features closely. It looks like any other ordinary machine you could buy at an online sex shop. According to Nathan, you can control the speed of the motor with just a touch of the remote, adjust the angle of the thruster easily for a multitude of positions to try, and for some reason it has Bluetooth capabilities. Neat!

The cherry on top of this machine, however, is the silicone cock attachment to it. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you unscrew the fake, realistically flesh-colored dick from the device. The length, girth, and ridges of it are all too familiar to you, and when you finally realize what Nathan meant by personalized, he’s peering at you through his wire glasses with a smirk.

“Is this—”

“A perfectly casted mold of my cock for you to pleasure yourself with in my absence? Why, yes. Yes, it is.”

“You’re gone for two weeks, not two years,” you remind him, raising a brow.

Nathan sits up straight and runs a hand through his thick beard. “And? You can’t go two weeks long without sex.”

“Me?” You scoff incredulously. “Bateman, you can’t even last a day without stuffing your cock inside me.”

“Can you just say thank you and accept my gift so I can tell you one last thing about our very own fuck machine?.”

You roll your eyes and toss the dildo at Nathan, which he catches with ease. “Our?”

“Yeah, our,” he repeats as he scoots closer to the apparatus and screws back on the artificial cock. “Don’t think for a sec that you’re the only one who’s gonna have fun with this.”

“What do you mean? Are you gonna fuck yourself with it too when you get home?”

Nathan shakes his head, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You watch as he opens up an app on the screen, and that’s when it clicks.

A gentle whirring begins to sound as the fuck machine operates to thrust into the air.

“Not only can I control everything from this app, but it’ll also let me watch you from the built-in camera I’ve installed right there, which will make phone sex a hundred times better. Cool, right?”

You don’t reply right away. You’re stunned that Nathan managed to draft and assemble all of this in just three days. He may be an asshole most of the time, but god, this man’s brain is astoundingly brilliant, and it leaves you gaping in awe.

“We’re gonna test it before you leave in the morning, aren’t we?” You ask him, already knowing the answer as he reaches for your pajama bottoms and hastily slides them off your legs.

“Damn right we are.”

“Good,” you add as you lay on your back with Nathan prepping you himself for the machine. “Oh, and by the way, thank you.”

✨ send me an ask with a sentence + a character and i’ll write the next five ✨

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman #nathan bateman drabble #ex machina

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alwaysmicado · 5 months

Text

in control

3.9k | 18+ MDNI | Nathan Bateman x f!reader

Warnings: pwp, fingering, choking, unprotected p in v, rough sex, degradation, spitting, dacryphilia, breeding kink Summary: Nathan degrades you for being his desperate little toy A/N: This is straight up filth. Seriously. I’m so thirsty for this man it’s not even funny anymore. Stay hydrated y’all and enjoy my depravity! -> masterlist

“See, baby? You don’t like it when I treat you so nicely,” he murmurs, his smug tone and intense gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

- - -

The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the expansive deck. The rhythmic thud of bandaged knuckles striking a bag punctuates the quiet air. Nathan, shirtless and drenched in sweat, throws precise punches, his movements a display of calculated power. As you approach, he doesn’t pause, acknowledging your presence only with a brief glance.

“Enjoying the view?” he scoffs breathlessly without looking your way.

“Just needed some fresh air,” you lie as your eyes wander from his shaved head to his glistening shoulders, following the path of his back muscles all the way down to the thin fabric of his gym shorts stretching over his shapely ass.

You involuntarily cross your legs, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress.

Nathan smirks, his dark eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before returning to the relentless assault on the punching bag. He sees right through you. He knows why you’re here.

“Desperate for some attention, are we?” he taunts you, practically smelling the raw need you exude. “Thought you were throwing a hissy fit ‘cause of Kyoko?”

He’s such an asshole.

Storming off into the night after finding him balls deep inside his android yesterday was not your proudest moment, sure. But fucking her on your desk after ignoring you all day was just unnecessarily cruel.

“It’s not a big deal,” was his annoyed answer when you attempted to confront him a few hours later.

Confronting a man incapable of admitting any wrongdoing proved to be futile, though, as usual. Half a bottle of vodka deep and barely able to keep his eyes open, he was in no mood for company, let alone to entertain your jealousy.

“Quit your whining and get the fuck outta here if you’re so over me,” he slurred before drifting off to sleep on the couch. You would get out, you really would. If only your craving for Nathan wasn’t an irresistible force that defies reason and prevails over all rationale.

“Fuck you, Nathan,” you spit, the missing bite in your words betraying you.

His chuckles ripple through the air as he brings the punching bag to a stop.

“Can’t do that anymore if you keep acting like a jealous brat, baby,” he says, shaking his head while unwrapping his knuckles, his glistening chest heaving with each controlled breath.

“I’m not–”

“You’re not what, hm?”

Lifting his eyebrows in mock intrigue, Nathan lets the bandages fall to the floor as he closes the distance between you two, his gaze fixed on yours like a tiger stalking its prey — penetrating your soul with an unwavering intensity.

His lips curl into a small, satisfied smile when he notices how dilated your pupils are and how your breathing has quickened. You’re convinced he can hear the pounding of your heart in your chest and feel your panties get wetter with every step he takes towards you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he cages you in by placing his hands next to your head, pressing your body against the cold glass panel with his. The heat radiating off his naked skin envelops you, his scent a heady combination of musk and sweat that lingers in the air. It’s a raw and masculine aroma, intensified by the heat of the moment, causing you to bite your lip in anticipation.

Nathan’s eyes bore into yours as he gently guides your hand to his cheek, the rough texture of his beard a familiar sensation against your palm. He searches your pleading eyes for a moment longer, the tension of unspoken truths palpable in the air as his fingers trace the soft contours of your thigh. Heat spreads under your skin as he gives the plush meat of your ass a rough squeeze, pulling apart your cheeks, before the tension snaps and his lips crash onto yours in a bruising kiss.

His lips, forceful and insistent, meet yours with an unrestrained urgency that borders on primal. You moan into his mouth as he grabs your ass harder, lifting your leg up to rub his hardening erection against your throbbing clit. You roll your hips in sync with his thrusts, pulling him closer by the back of his neck, your tongue swirling around his with an aggressive fervor that only Nathan brings out of you. His breathless groans spur you on, your fingernails digging into his back so hard you’re leaving marks.

You need him closer, harder — you need to feel him, need him to be yours.

When you slide your hand between your bodies to rub his cock over the fabric of his pants, impatient for him to fuck you senseless, he immediately grabs both of your wrists, pinning them next to your head against the glass.

“What happened to ‘I don’t wanna do this anymore, Nathan’?” he mockingly throws your own words back at you while sloppily kissing and biting at the delicate skin of your neck, leaving dark bruises behind. You can’t hold back the moans that escape your lips, the alternation between his soft and violent touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through your whole body that pool in your core. Your nails dig into your own palms as the pain of Nathan’s canine teeth breaking your skin is almost too much to bear.

“Ow, fuck!” is the only thing you can get out, too caught up in the overload of sensations assaulting your body to process Nathan’s words.

“You know why it pisses me off when you say shit like that?” He releases your wrists and loses no time waiting for your answer, pressing his lips against yours again, nipping and biting as he pulls aside your panties and pushes three fingers inside your wet heat in one swift motion, the slightly painful intrusion knocking the breath out of your lungs.

“Because it’s a lie, baby,” Nathan growls as he expertly moves his fingers inside you, fast and rough, the obscene squelching sounds coming from your wet pussy emphasizing his point. “What we do, what we have is exactly what you want.”

“It’s no–,” you start before Nathan’s right hand wraps around your neck within a split second, knocking your head against the glass behind you and squeezing hard enough for you to become light-headed. His hard cock presses against your hip as he ups the pace of his fingers inside you, the heel of his palm putting delicious pressure on your clit. You’re this close to coming already, but you know that Nathan would never let you get off this easily.

“That’s right, baby,” he purrs with a tilt of his head, pulling away from you just enough to look into your glazed over eyes. “It’s so much nicer when you don’t have to use that dumb little brain of yours, hm?”

You furrow your brow and let out a strangled groan as Nathan brings you closer to your peak with every curl and pump of his fingers. You thrust your hips to meet his movements shamelessly, your carnal need for release more important than your dignity.

“Goddamn,” he chuckles into your cheek, his hot breath ghosting the shell of your ear. “I can never get the androids to grip me this hard.”

You immediately try to shove him away from you, but it’s useless, he’s too strong for you. He rolls his eyes at your pathetic attempt at defiance, pulls his fingers out of you, grabs your ass with both hands and lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you close, petting the back of your head in a deceptively soothing manner.

“If you insist on being a bitch, you can get yourself off on the dinner table again,” he coos into your ear, his cock twitching at the memory of you rubbing yourself on the hard edge for half an hour, whining and shaking, as your juices dripped down onto the floor. Of course he had you lick it all up while jerking off in front of you, adding more fluids for you to clean up with your tongue.

He did invite you to sleep in his bed with him for the first time that night, so there’s that.

“That what you want, hm?”

“No, I–I’m sorry,” you whimper into the crook of his neck, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

Nathan sighs deeply, like he isn’t turned on beyond belief by your whimpering, moves you away from the glass and carries you inside, heading for his bedroom.

“Aren’t you tired of trying to be in control, baby?” he asks as he fumbles with the key card in his pocket before opening the first door with it. “Of course you are,” he goes on as he carries you down the hallway, the soft thumping sound of his naked feet on the floor echoing in the empty space. “All those big thoughts can’t fit in that little brain of yours. You’re just not made for it.”

He presses the keycard to the sensor of his bedroom door and steps inside after it opens with a quiet whoosh. “But it’s okay,” he murmurs into your cheek as he lays you down on his bed, “now I’m here to take them all away.”

Nathan chuckles when you avert your gaze from your reflection staring back at you, finding it amusing how embarrassed you get sometimes. It’s genuinely intriguing to him how you can act so innocently when you both know what kind of fucked up shit gets you off.

“Take your clothes off and spread your legs,” he orders without looking at you, turning his back to you as he takes off his own pants, spits in his hand and starts stroking his length. You do as he says, your eyes locked on his fat cock in the mirror, your sopping wet panties clinging uncomfortably to the contours of your puffy folds before you finally pull them down your legs.

“Such a greedy little thing, aren’t you,” Nathan scoffs as his eyes roam your naked body, imagining how good your warm cunt is gonna feel around his aching cock. He kneels between your spread legs and traces your inner thighs with his warm palm slowly while grabbing one of your breasts with the other. You moan at the feeling of his firm touch and tilt your pelvis to thrust against nothing, the muscles in your thighs and lower belly tensing.

“Stay still,” he grumbles, leaning in to suck your soft flesh into his mouth, pumping his length as he flicks your nipple with his tongue. You put your hands on the back of his head to pull him closer, the feeling of his teeth slightly grazing your nipple eliciting a breathy moan from you. He releases your wet tit with a loud plop, sits back on his heels between your spread legs and jerks off for a bit, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he watches your lip quiver in frustration.

“Always so dramatic,” he sighs with a roll of his eyes before spitting on your pussy and watching closely how his saliva runs down your wet folds, spreading it around with his fingers. Your eyes widen and your grip on the sheets intensifies in anticipation as Nathan leans over you and guides the tip of his cock to your entrance, swiping it through your combined wetness before pushing into you in one quick thrust.

“F-Fuuuck,” you moan, arching your back and furrowing your brow as the delicious stretch of his cock takes you by surprise.

He buries himself deep inside of you with a low groan, his forehead pressed against yours, his forearms planted on the bed next to you while his hands cradle the crown of your head.

You expect him to hold you down and immediately start rutting into you like he usually does, but instead, Nathan holds you gently, pressing soft kisses on your lips and the bruised skin of your neck while thrusting into you slowly.

You fucking hate how gentle he is with you, how he enjoys feeling you squirm under him, how he pins your hands next to your head when you try to make him move faster. He delights in the pathetic whines falling from your pretty plush lips, revels in every desperate thrust of your hips and every strained clenching of your walls.

“What’s the matter, hm?” Nathan whispers into your neck, trailing the soft skin with his lips. “Is this not enough for a dirty little slut like you? Look at me.”

You meet his gaze with watery eyes as he continues to fuck you at a pace that is just enough to keep you on the precipice of orgasm, but is not enough to push you over the edge. Every soft kiss he presses on your face and neck burns your skin, his unusually tender touch driving you crazy. But no matter how much you wriggle and writhe, no matter how many desperate pleas fall from your lips, and no matter how much you move your hips, he won’t up his pace or manhandle you in the slightest.

It’s torture.

“See, baby? You don’t like it when I treat you so nicely,” he murmurs, his smug tone and intense gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

“You like it when I tie you to the bed and fuck your holes until you’re a drooling, sobbing mess,” he says softly without breaking eye contact, the way your pussy is squeezing his cock in reponse telling him all he needs to know.

He grins and keeps rolling his hips at a slow pace as he goes on, “You like it when I shove my fist up your cunt and fuck you until you piss yourself. You like it when I make you drink my cum out of Kyoko’s pussy and keep your head in place until you’ve licked her clean. You like it when I–fuck–when I tie your hands to a tree and tell you to get yourself off on the rough bark until your pussy’s bleeding.”

“Please, Nathan, I–”

“You–you like it when I drug your drink and fuck your unconscious body, the cameras filming every sick thing I do to you, making sure I can watch–fuck, your pussy’s gripping me so hard–making sure I can watch it over and over again.”

He grabs your chin to force you to look at him when you dare to move your head away, hooking his thumb in the corner of your mouth and pulling it down so he can spit right onto the back of your tongue. When he’s sure you’ve swallowed it, he taps your cheek approvingly before cradling the crown of your head with his warm palms, making sure to not change the pace of his hips thrusting in and out of you.

“You like how I keep going when you cry and thrash about, begging me to stop. You like how I make you deepthroat a fat dildo on the wall while I’m fucking your ass, making you struggle to take both. You–oh shit–you like it when I use you like the desperate little toy you are.”

“Goddamnit, Nathan, just–”

He immediately pulls out of you and sits back on his heels, watching in awe how the mix of his precum, spit and your juices pools on his sheets, forming a big wet spot between your thighs. You throw your head back and grip your arms in frustration, pressing your legs together to alleviate some of the unbearable ache that’s causing tears to well up in your eyes. Your clit pulsates painfully and your walls clench around nothing as Nathan smirks and lines his cock up with your hole again.

“Only a desperate little whore like you would get off to someone doing such awful things to her,” he purrs, nudging your entrance with his fat tip as you lie there, limp yet tense, completely at his mercy. “And now you can’t even get close when I treat you so gently, can you?”

“Nathan,” you whimper, tears now spilling from your eyes, your whole body shaking from straining so hard. “Please.”

“Fuck, I love it when you cry,” he groans, his pupils blown. “Makes my dick so fucking hard.”

He pushes both your legs up and leans over you again, so your calves rest on his shoulders while your thighs are tightly pressed against your torso. You scratch his arms as hard as you can when he sinks his cock back inside your swollen cunt in one smooth thrust, giving you no time to adjust to the new angle as he sets a brutal pace, your pained sobs mixed with moans of pleasure spurring him on.

“Tell me you need me to fuck you like the whore you are,” Nathan pants breathlessly, his balls slapping against your ass with every harsh snap of his hips, the sounds of smacking flesh and your combined moans echoing in the room. “It’s okay, baby,” he breathes, his brow furrowed, “it’s just how nature programmed you.”

The dark glint in his eyes returns when you don’t answer and turn your head away from him instead, concentrating every fiber of your being on your imminent orgasm. You’re so close you can taste it.

Nathan doesn’t like that one bit.

He pulls out of you again, but doesn’t leave you enough time to protest as he’s already maneuvered you onto your hands and knees, fucking you hard from behind, before you even realize what’s happening.

“Go on, then,” he growls through clenched teeth, his hips slamming against your ass with each powerful thrust. “Pretend you don’t want it.” He grabs your neck and shoves your head down into the mattress, forcing you to face your reflection in the mirror as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Scream for me while I fuck you. Beg me to stop.”

“Nathan, please, I can’t–,” you croak out, but your brain completely shuts off when he deliberately starts hitting your G-spot over and over again.

“What was that, baby?” he pants, letting go of your neck to spank your ass hard, the searing pain causing your walls to involuntarily flutter around his cock.

“Goddamn, you’re a depraved whore,” he groans before sending another blow to your sensitive, red cheek. Your pained sobs make his cock throb inside you, impatient to finally paint your walls with his cum.

“Admit what you are and I’ll give you what you want,” he reaches around your front to rub your clit roughly, immediately feeling your muscles tense and your walls constrict around him so tightly he can barely move. Your loud, uninhibited moans are music to his ears.

Nathan knows he’s the only man alive that could ever make you sound like this, and he fucking loves it — loves that he’s ruined you for anyone else.

“Say it.”

“I’m your filthy little whore,” you whine, your voice hoarse from all the crying and moaning you’ve done today. “Please let me come on your cock, Nathan, please. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it,” he rasps, abandoning your clit to grab your neck again, putting his weight on you as he picks up the pace and thrusts into you ruthlessly. “Come on my fucking cock.”

It only takes a few more of his calculated hits to your pleasure spot before you finally tip over the edge and come with a strangled moan, your walls spasming and contracting around his cock uncontrollably. Shockwaves of pleasure grip your body, as your orgasm hits you harder than ever before. Nathan fucks you through it, holding onto your waist with a bruising grip, not letting up until he comes himself, grunting and moaning for you to “take it, take all of it,” as he empties himself deep inside you. His hips jerk a few more times and his moans come out as ragged breaths while his cock pulses inside you, your wet heat eagerly swallowing every last drop.

“Fucking hell,” he pants breathlessly when he’s getting enough blood to his brain again, planting his hands on the bed behind him and leaning back as he slowly pulls out of you, watching your swollen cunt contract around nothing.

You collapse on the bed and let your body fall on your back, pulling up one knee and putting your arm over your eyes to have a moment to come down and gather yourself.

Nathan’s cum burns as it starts leaking out of your sore pussy and onto the mattress, your heart is pounding and your whole body is covered in sweat and bruises. You’re so out of it that you don’t even flinch when Nathan lies down between your legs and starts pushing as much cum as he can back inside you with his fingers.

“Don’t wanna waste that,” he murmurs more to himself than you, mesmerized by the way your puffy, wet pussy swallows the liquid gold that is his cum.

You’re exhausted. Satisfied, but exhausted — mentally and physically. So you let him be.

“Don’t move,” you hear his calm voice before you feel him get off the bed and hear water running in the bathroom. You wince when the warm washcloth makes contact with your sticky folds and thighs, but Nathan is gentle in his ministrations, making sure to clean you up thoroughly without applying too much pressure.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles into his beard as he concentrates on your neck next, carefully wiping away the minimal traces of dried blood, inspecting your skin closely to make sure he didn’t bite you too hard.

You observe him in silent curiosity, as aftercare is usually not something that Nathan is willing to give you. He would sometimes let you sleep in his bed after blowing his load, but that’s about all of the affection he’d grant you.

He sets aside the washcloth and dims the lights with a snap of his fingers before leaning against the headboard of his bed, propped up by a big pillow. “C’mere and drink this,” he says, draping his arm around your shoulder when you sit down next to him, handing you a cold glass of water.

You eye it suspiciously as the color is a faint pink and you can never know with Nathan. Sensing your thoughts, he shakes his head and lets you know that it’s a special vitamin drink he regularly uses after his workouts. “Good for muscle recovery and, uh, hematomas,” he murmurs, drawing circles on your arm with his fingertips and watching your reflection in the mirror.

You drink the whole glass in one go, only now realizing how dehydrated you are. A small, self-satisfied smile tugs at Nathan’s lips as he sees the bruises on your neck move with each gulp.

Right when you lean over to set the empty glass down on the nightstand, the automatic door to Nathan’s bedroom opens with a soft whoosh. The clicking sound of Kyoko’s high heels follows, sending a chill down your spine. The android places a neatly folded pile of towels on the chair next to the bed, keeping her head low, her movements measured and precise as always.

She’s gone again before you can even think to cover yourself up.

“No need to be jealous, baby,” Nathan murmurs, pulling your frozen body close and pressing a gentle kiss to your wet cheek.

“You’re my favorite toy.”

- - -

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

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rdng1230 · 1 year

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More Ted Lasso Musings

Before I start let me say once again that this season has contained absolutely wonderful moments and is still a wonderful bit of light in a buuuuunch of darkness. Also spoiler warning.

Cool, so I've figured out what's bothering me this season and its that they're either showing us everything and telling us nothing, or showing us nothing (of actual character significance) and telling us everything. in the showing us everything and telling us nothing category we've got my love Keeley Jones. I feel like we've spent a massive amount of time at KJPR and I still feel like I'm scratching my head as to what they were trying to tell us. They've set Keeley up to be this incredibly competent and bright person, and when they give her her shot it all goes to shit. and I get it "you can't always get what you want" so says the song for this season's trailer, but I'm struggling to understand the thing that she got that she needed that she didn't already have. She had Rebeccas love and support, I mean she has Roy back but this does not seem like the show where the moral of a long story about her starting her own business is that she has her boyfriend back. I actually would love people's take on what you think we're supposed to get out of Keeley's storyline.

Onto the telling but not showing category we got my guy Nate the Great. He has been so totally short changed this season on his redemption arc. It is HARD to become a better person. It is HARD to admit you fucked up. It is HARD to turn against your own knee jerk insecurities and reactions. It is ESPECIALLY HARD to do that in an environment that is actively incentivizing you to act on those insecurities and reactions. So even though I absolutely believe Nate deserving and capable of these huge leaps forward in overcoming his own internal crap, I think we've completely sidelined that narrative of what's pushing him to actually take those huge leaps forward. At the end of season 2, it was clear Nate was really struggling, and I'm not gonna lie I hated the way he treated those around him, like Beard said it was "personal, and weird" but I also felt a huge amount of sympathy and compassion because no one gets that way without something horrible happening to them first. So when the last scene of season 2 happened and he was teased as this big time villain, I was sad, but not surprised. I expected him to get his redemption, but I also expected that to be a really difficult journey for him where he was likely going to get worse before he got better. So now we're in season 3 and he suddenly just makes all these huge leaps forward, they feel from out of nowhere, not because I don't feel like he's capable of it, but rather that should've been more difficult to do, and also it should've been a moment of great personal triumph for Nate! The way I think of it is imagine if Rebecca had just waltzed into teds office in season 1 and confessed about the sabotage with no context. Sure we would've believed her capable of it, sure we would've believed she deserved forgiveness, but we all would've been scratching our heads as to what made her have this reckoning within herself. they would've told us Rebecca changed instead of shown why and how she changed like what they're doing with Nate.

I actually think there's so many parallels between the relationship of Nate and Jade and the relationship of Roy and Jamie. Both Nate and Roy made stupidly bad and self destructive decisions around the end of last season. Both are in a low point in their emotional journeys, almost all of Nathan's emotional scenes have been with Jade while all of Roy's emotional scenes have been with Jamie. The thing is, that's not where their respective internal work really needs to get done? Nate already took the plunge and asked out Jade last season, and Roy already showed real vulnerability when he hugged Jamie after the thing with his dad (not that I think that means everything wrapped up with a shiny bow or anything, but just that each character has much bigger fish to fry in terms of character growth) I do think Nate and Jade have become really cute just as Roy and Jamie's scenes have felt ripped straight out of a fluffy fanfic. but do these scenes actually show us that Nate/Roy are getting better? We've already seen Nate being an absolute sweetheart with the women in his life who he loves, his mother, his niece (even if we didn't actually see her till this season it was clear that they had a very warm and positive relationship) and Keeley, so him being able to be vulnerable and open up with Jade is lovely, but not really that new of a territory. If we could just see Nate having a shift maybe with his coaching staff or the West Ham players, this would feel more meaningful because we saw him struggle way more with people he perceives as part of his own hierarchy structure. Its the same with Roy. We've seen Roy open up to Jamie in the past so their relationship, while fucking adorable, is not doing anything to address the real struggle inside Roy that he's ignoring. It would be way more meaningful to see Roy have moments where he chooses to have joy instead of running away. Instead we get scenes like where the sports pundit squad just says oh by the way Nate left West Ham, in the same way that Ms. Bowen says to Roy that he seems less stuck. Umm what? Since when? what happened? All tell and no show. Or showing only the least character growth relevant scenes and then just be like oh by the way they fixed it.

reblog and comment away because I'm interested in people's take on this.

#ted lasso #keeley jones #nate shelley #wonderkid #Roy Kent #Jamie Tartt

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benicebefunny · 1 year

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Ted Lasso, "Pilot" Rewatch

My key takeaway: Ted Lasso is not some country bumpkin too pure to understand (or participate in) social hierarchies.

There's an old feel-good comedy staple where a simple, salt-of-the-earth Hick goes to The City and meets Fancy Cityfolk. Not familiar with their fancy city ways, the Hick doesn't treat people according to this foreign hierarchy. He does things for himself rather than ordering around the butler. (He may even assume the butler is the Master of the House!) He innocently insults the Fancy Cityfolk by violating their social rules. He shakes the men's hands too hard. He invites the stuffiest matron around to go possum huntin'.

The Hick acts without respect to the Cityfolk's social hierarchies, because he doesn't understand them.

In the Pilot, it's clear that Ted is Not That Hick.*

Ted is a keen observer of power dynamics. Unlike the Hick who runs roughshod over social hierarchy out of ignorance, Ted is constantly negotiating social hierarchies. The Hick upends hierarchy. Ted is an active participant and often a beneficiary of hierarchy.

Ted has a brain that won't turn off and a fuckton of social privilege. And, by god, if he doesn't use both in the Pilot.

Example 1: Ollie, the Erstwhile Tour Guide Ted's first interaction on British soil with a British person is a bit of a fake-out. When Ollie (the cab driver presumably sent by Richmond) goes to take Ted and Beard's luggage, they refuse. Ted says no several times in a row, followed by, "We packed 'em, we'll carry 'em." Perhaps, for the briefest moment, we think Ted is That Hick. He doesn't want to be waited on; he doesn't want to watch someone labor on his behalf. He's opting out.

But then Ted immediately says, "Love to make a little pit stop though." After Ollie agrees, it's cut to: Ollie showing Ted and Beard the Tower Bridge. A thing that is very much not Ollie's job. A thing that Richmond is not paying him for. A thing that neither Ted nor Beard tip him for on-screen.

Ted seems uncomfortable with Ollie, a dark-skinned Black man, carrying his bags. He's wary of such a visible marker of class and racial hierarchy. The historical weight cannot be ignored.

However, Ted's fine with asking Ollie to play tour guide--something that literally is not Ollie's job and that he isn't dressed for (Ollie's removed his suit jacket in the sunshine of the water front). Moreover, Ted feels comfortable requesting a delay in their itinerary that could potentially lose Ollie further business with Richmond.

There's a connection between the refusal to let Ollie carry their bags and the request for a tour. It feels like a negotiation. We'll carry our bags; you give us a tour. The fact that Ollie is expected to carry his fares' bags becomes a bargaining chip. It buys Ted the good will necessary to get something he wants. (Which is so fucking Midwestern.)

In this interaction, Ted doesn't opt out of the racial and class hierarchy. He just alters the terms.

Example 2: Nathan and Nate Like Ted, I am also a Midwestern transplant. I understand the impulse for nicknames. Where I grew up, if you didn't have a nickname (preferably something ending with an -y sound), it meant people hated you. Or you were rich. Or both.

It was quite shocking to move to California and meet some Okie who introduced himself as "James."

Among family and friends, coining a nickname can signal affection, warmth, familiarity.

Among people who've just met, a white person inventing a nickname for a person of color is... bad, it's bad. Don't do it. It's wrong. No. I don't get to decide what their name is. Stop.

Nathan introduces himself as Nathan. Ted calls him Nathan a few times. But in their third scene together, Ted has started calling him by the diminutive, "Nate." By the time Nathan is driving out of the Richmond car park, Ted is calling him, "my man, Nate."

If I were in Ted's place, the moment Nathan dropped me off, I would call a cab, board a flight home, and change my own fucking name. I'd enter the Whiteness Protection Program so goddamn fast.

My point is: Ted is overly-familiar with Nathan. He takes liberties with Nathan. He redefines Nathan, shrinking him down into Nate. He exercises authority over Nathan's very identity.

Compare this with how George Cartrick calls Higgins, "Higgy Boy."

Contrast it with how Ted addresses Rebecca. He calls her Ms. Welton. When she corrects him, he believes her.

He doesn't call her Becca or Becky or Bex. He calls her Rebecca.

Because she's his boss.

Which is to say: he knows how power works at work.

Example 3: Tea Time? As a new employee, Ted is deferential to Rebecca. He is careful about staying in her good graces.

Ted initially calls Rupert a "good time" for being surrounded by champagne and groupies (a moment of casual sexism that Nathan would have criticized himself over). When Ted learns that's Rebecca's ex-husband, he immediately backpedals. He tries to save face and avoid offending his new boss.

Famously, Ted hates tea. He's never tried tea, but he hates it. When he receives tea by mistake at a restaurant, he returns it. When Rebecca gives him tea, he at least tries it. He views his rich boss Rebecca differently than the barista at Starbucks.

That last sentence may seem obvious, but it's a concrete example of Ted understanding and negotiating power.

The Hick would reject the tea from Rebecca, the same as at Starbucks. Ted doesn't.

Conclusion Ted is neither above nor oblivious to the flow of power. Ted is not pure in a world of filth. He's in the muck with the rest of us. He's not an innocent; he just has an accent.

In the episodes to come, Ted will use his understanding of power dynamics to create a more cohesive team. In doing so, he becomes complicit in those power dynamics and the harm they cause.

You can't win the game without playing the game.

*A deeper engagement with the Hick Goes to the City trope in other media may reveal that some (many or even most) Hicks are far more agile navigators of hierarchy than we are initially led to believe.

#ted lasso #ted lasso rewatch #meta #my feathers get a little ruffled when it's implied that being from the midwest makes ted #innocent wholesome guileless or un-sophisticated #because you know who else was born and raised in the midwest?#my dad #and he knowingly negotiates power within a variety of contexts #not well perhaps but he exists in a matrix of social relations just like anyone else #and that's an entirely separate thing from him not knowing what pesto is #and ordering it anyway #and being shocked and dismayed when his lasagna comes out green

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