Poe Dameron- Birthday Party

Poe Dameron- Birthday Party

Part of a loose collection of stories, brief scenes of dating Poe Dameron (~900)

Contents: language, flirting, kissing, fluff

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Another day in the resistance

Your birthday. Which Poe is so excited by.

He's like a hound who can't contain himself and his little tail wiggles his huge butt and he causes absolute chaos with his enthusiasm.

You wish you could focus on that enthusiasm. Unfortunately, it is the chaos that has to be dealt with. He has laid absolute waste to the planning and maintenance schedule in favor of throwing you a birthday party.

Of course you've had a party before. A few. Before you were old enough to remember them. But none here in the Resistance. You'd kept things pretty professional until Poe had redefined the words 'personal boundary.'

And Poe is a man who loves an excuse to celebrate.

You don't have the heart to tell him that you don’t see the big deal. It’s just another day to you. Instead, you try to think of it as an opportunity to make Poe happy, and people could use the morale boost.

You carefully rework the maintenance schedule with your second in command, giving everyone at least an hour or two free. Poe takes the entire day off, which you've never seen him do before.

He will not let you help in any way and staying at work helps tamp down your nerves. All those people. All those hours of smiling, even among friends, takes a certain amount of bravery. You're not used to the spotlight like Poe is.

You finish logging a new shipment of parts at the very last second of your scheduled workday. You shut off your computer and wind your way back to the quarters you’ve shared with Poe for a handful of weeks now.

People smile at you in the hall and say happy birthday. That part is nice, relaxing almost, that even with all of the chaos that war brings, the Resistance is still about people. 

Then it occurs to you, will you have to make a speech? Oh fuck. Well, If Poe makes one, you're definitely not saying anything. The man's a born motivator and could charm the helmet off a Mandalorian.

Brain scrambling, you enter your quarters. It smells different, like this baked fruity cakey thing your mom used to make for your birthday. You recognize it anywhere, and it's there on the table where Poe's sitting. It instantly makes your mouth water and your heart ache.

Poe taps one boot impatiently, a huge grin on his face.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart." He stands up abruptly and walks over, gathering you up for a kiss. Warm, soft, gently pulling your top lip into his mouth to tease it with his tongue. He remembered not to shave because you'd told him how much you love to feel the scruff on his chin and face rub over your skin. His hands pull you close, almost possessive if Poe were that type.

But it's more like it just wouldn't occur to him to kiss you any other way, kissing you like you exist only for him and he exists only for you. There is nothing else in the galaxy. It is absolutely, inarguably, some of his very best work.

When he breaks his lips away from yours, you're dazed. When you remember to you to open your eyes again, Poe’s face is serious, his eyes slowly scanning over your face as he traces his thumb over your bottom lip.

You smile slightly at him. "Isn't it rude to be late to your own party? Because this is how you make us late."

He kisses the tip of your nose. "You were right on time. This is it."

You tilt your head back to look at him, confused.

His lips press together briefly, he runs his hands up and down your back.

"I got carried away with the party thing. You were a little freaked out, I could tell."

"Oh, no,-" you start to lie. Poe lays his fingers over your mouth.

"Your birthday is about you. Not me. Not the Resistance," he says. "Besides, I had the mess hall make like, ten of these cakes so everyone will still get to eat it. And you and I get an entire one for ourselves.”

“You did so much planning, though,” you protest.

“And you got to watch me try to do a tenth of what you do on a daily basis and do it really poorly,” he laughs. “Is that enough of a birthday present?”

You smile. “When you put it like that, then, yes. You’re the only person I’ve ever seen who couldn’t figure out how to make a to-do list.”

He shrugs self-deprecatingly. “My job is to sit in an x-wing, have bb-8 punch some coordinates in, blow something up, and then I come home to you. Easy.”

“That part is easy, but you do so much more than that.”

He nuzzles his nose against your cheek. “Stop complimenting me. I’m trying to compliment you.”

He folds you into a hug.

“Thanks, Poe.”

“You’re welcome. And don’t feel bad about the party. This way, I get to have you all to myself.”

“Ah, an ulterior motive reveals itself.”

He nods, his dark curls nodding too. “You’ll still have to hear the speech I was going to make, though.”

“I knew you’d have something to say,” you say.

“Actually, that was what made me re-think the whole party. If I spoke, then you’d have to speak and you hate that kind of thing.”

You lean in and kiss him, tilting your head to get your lips between his, even though you’re still smiling. “You know me too well.”

He takes in a deep breath, hands wandering down your body. “Okay, I think I have to give you your present early,” he says, brown eyes wide. “Maybe a couple of them.”

“How many are there?”

He shrugs, all fake innocence. “I don’t know, how many do you think you can have in one night?”

-

**Poe Dameron Masterlist**

*masterlist*

i just know if you ever tried to break up with nathan he might *let* you leave, but he would keep tabs on you and stalk you forever

You’re so right, Anon!

Nathan isn't the kind of guy who just lets go.

The man created an AI by combing through the entire internet’s data—your socials are practically child’s play for him. He wouldn’t need to "hack" anything because, let’s be real, he probably already built backdoors into every app you use. You could block him, delete him, deactivate everything, but you know deep down he's watching you through some obscure security protocol you’ve never even heard of.

He wouldn’t stop at just checking in. Oh no, Nathan would analyze every photo, every post. That Instagram story you posted? He’s already run it through some advanced facial recognition software to figure out who you’re with, how often you’re seeing them, and—most importantly—whether they’re a threat to his perceived superiority.

The guy you went to brunch with last weekend? Yeah, Nathan’s already pulled up his LinkedIn, his last five jobs, and his questionable Reddit posts from 2013.

Then there are the subtle things he’d do, just to mess with you.

You’re scrolling through your feed, and suddenly you notice an ad for vodka, his vodka, the exact brand he always drank. Coincidence? Not with Nathan. He’s leaving little breadcrumbs, digital fingerprints, so you know he’s still there. Watching. Waiting.

If you dared to date someone new, it’d only get worse. He'd run psychological profiles on your new flame, digging through their online history like some kind of deranged investigator. And if that poor soul ever posted something innocent like, "Out with my amazing new partner tonight," Nathan’s eyes would narrow. His hand would tighten on his glass. He’d be thinking: Him? Really?

And suddenly, your new guy starts having weird glitches on his phone. Like, weird stuff. Apps crashing. Texts going missing. Maybe one day, all of his favorite playlists are replaced with Nathan’s favorite songs—songs with creepy, passive-aggressive lyrics that sound suspiciously personal.

But of course, no one could ever measure up to Nathan. He’d probably scoff at the very idea. In his mind, he’s not just the ex—you’re the one who made the wrong choice. You can move on, but Nathan? He’s already ten steps ahead of you, digitally weaving himself into the fabric of your life whether you like it or not.

In the end, you wouldn't just be trying to move on from a relationship—you’d be trying to escape a person who doesn’t think “moving on” even applies to him.

– – –

Thank you so much for this ask! 🖤 Nathan Bateman Masterlist

wrath - santiago garcia

i am cooking on these holyy. lowkey proud of myself. I think i'll do an aftercare series next because not every fic has that and sometimes it's nice to have some fluff.

cw: hate (?) sex, darkish santi but dw everything is okay, enemies to enemies who fuck, banter, badassery gone wrong, riding, biting, degradation, mentions of injury and violence (pg description), kinda pwp

songs to listen to: caroline by artemas, you've been a bad girl by artemas...anything by artemas....

OKAY HOT TAKE I THINK SANTI WAS OSCAR'S HOTTEST ROLE. highkey a snack.

okay okay on with the show xox

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Fish and Will, the other two on your team, had been wise enough to take a separate Jeep, seeing the venomous look in Santi's eye.

A quiet rattling from the undercarriage over the rocky terrain was the only sound between you.

You held an ice pack to your chest, trying to soothe the burning ache. A rubber mallet to the sternum was a hard hit to take, and you'd only recently regained the ability to breathe. Trying to swallow air as quietly as you could, you shifted towards the window, determined not to look at your partner.

Santi hadn't said a word, jaw clenched sharp enough to cut diamond. The anger rolling off of him clouded the air; a mix of sweat, heat and loamy soil. An irony twinge made your skin crawl. Blood was still caked under your fingernails and flecked on his cheek.

The stakeout hadn't gone well. In fact, Murphy's law seemed to be the only rule in action out in the backwoods, because nothing had gone to plan. The bodyguards for your target had switched shifts, the numbers were wrong, the target came home early...in short, it was a bloodbath.

Fish and Will took the supply van, trundling along in front of the armored Jeep Pope was currently driving.

Guilt and anger roiled in your gut. Yes, you'd been reckless. yes, Santi had reason to be angry. Did you get out alive and with the cash? Also yes, so at this point you weren't sure why it was still an issue.

"There's more ice in the back," Santi's low rumble broke the silence. His gaze was still locked forward, tone giving no room for further conversation.

You nodded thanks, grabbing a new pack and throwing the melted one into the garbage bag. The cold bite made you hiss. Santi flicked his eyes to yours in the mirror, then back on the road.

"Grab the map."

Sighing through your nose, you complied, shoving the messily folded sheet at him. His hand stalled as he grabbed the paper, clenching hard enough to tear.

"Interesting," he growled, "you can listen."

You glared daggers. This was not the conversation you wanted to have right now. Don't engage, just leave him alone.

"About time you decided to act right."

okay, fuck you.

Shoving forwards to the passenger seat, you stuck your face as close as possible to Pope's fuming profile.

"I got out," you spat, "and I got out alive, and I got out with an extra 50k. I was gonna offer it to you, but-"

Santi revved the engine and swerved off the road, swearing in heated Spanish. You screamed, thrown against the door from the force of the vehicle. Shrubs and branches crunched under the heavy wheels, and you tumbled onto the dash, chest searing with pain.

Hands hooked under your arms and dragged you into the humid fog. You thrashed and wailed, choking on breath. A familiar tan palm slapped over your mouth, and you felt Pope's grip tighten around your bicep.

While you struggled to comprehend what the fuck just happened, Santiago brought your ear up to his mouth and seethed.

"Listen very closely," he said quietly. "I have put up with you for five weeks. Five. Cinco. I am going to give you five minutes to run as fast as you possibly fucking can until I drive off without you. Otherwise, I'll put a round through your skull. Comprende?"

You shivered and coughed, mind doing pirouettes. Where did this come from? No, you didn't like Pope, but he'd never...

"Wh-why?" you croaked around his hand. With an umph you were shoved to the mossy floor, scrabbling away from him. Santi stalked forwards, dark gaze heavy and strong.

"You don't listen. You don't shoot. you fight good, but you risked all of us for what, a moment of glory? Puta," he hissed, grabbing your jaw again.

His arms rippled under a sheen of sweat and dewy raindrops. You struggled to suck in a breath, the injury on your chest throbbing with every inhale.

"P-please don't," you stuttered, trying to stand. He shoved you down, broad palm strong against your chest. A defeated whimper slipped between your lips. Santi clicked his tongue. Mocking.

"Cry later, you've got some ground to cover."

With a shove, you were stumbling forwards into a loping run. The jungle terrain was unfamiliar but you plowed forwards. Sharp leaves whipped your cheeks, wet bark and sticky sap clinging to your already drenched clothes.

Pitter pat pitter pat pitter pat. You had five minutes. 180 steps a minute, that meant you had 900 steps before-

A loud crashing came behind you. He cheated. It had not been five minutes, and Santi was a lot faster. You sprinted hard, trying not to slip on the slick leaves.

With a huge leap, you crossed a small creek and crawled up the bank. A few seconds later you heard Santi splash through.

You weren't going to outrun him. Hide. You could hide. you were good at that; being quiet and still. There was enough mud and foliage caked on you to blend in with the shrubbery.

Trying to quell your shivering limbs, you crept beneath a rotting log, rutting out a small ditch to cower in.

The forest was quiet. Every sound you made sounded amplified. Your ears strained to pick up Santi's careful footsteps.

Trying to track a Marine, huh? Good fucking luck.

You settled lower and sniffled. Better just to accept it.

"You can come out now."

It stunned you to silence. You weren't expecting him to catch up so soon. Biting your lip, you shakily crawled out of your hiding spot, hands timidly raised to your ears.

Santi stood a few feet away, posture relaxed and wide. His powerful legs were strong and steady, arms folded over his chest. Fish. God, you should have called Fish.

Fear choking your throat, your shook as he walked closer, stopping nose to nose. Raw anger radiated off of him, almost in visible rays. You met his gaze bravely, but the tears bubbling gave away your terror.

Santi's hand moved to his waistband and you flinched reflexively. His hand came up to smack you and you barreled forwards, tackling him to the soggy jungle floor. Desperately, you clawed at his chest, trying to stave him off and get back to the car. He grabbed your ankle, yanking you back into his chest.

A splitting scream tore from your throat before he stuck a thumb in your mouth, efficiently gagging you.

"Stop it, st- shut it-" he growled, pinning your arms at your sides. You grunted furiously, kicking at his ankle. Santi swore again and hitched up so your feet flailed in the air.

"I'm not gonna shoot you," he spat, wrestling you against a tree, "would you fucking stay still chrissakes, stop hitting me." Your brain took a moment to catch up, after which you fell limp.

Relief coursed through your veins.

Santi breathed heavily. "Can you...jesus can you stop moving? I need to-"

"Drop your gun," you said as soon as he removed his hand.

"Wh...I don't have a gun." His eyes were genuinely perplexed.

You kneed up to his waist, connecting with the hardness there. "yes, you do."

He buckled, groaning. Bewildered, you watched him swallow a curse before it clicked.

"...Are you-"

"Shut up," he growled, before devouring your mouth.

Oxygen deprivation was getting to you. You went slack when his tongue pushed into your mouth, harsh and greedy. Santi's grip was bruising on your arms as he kept them pinned to your sides.

"Why," he panted between sucks, "do you have to be so fucking difficult-" a groan cut him off and he returned to your neck, biting and licking for dear life.

You huffed and whimpered, overwhelmed by his attention. He kissed you angrily, teeth gnashing and clicking. A tang of iron when you bit his lip made him moan, grinding up against you.

The sharp grain of the tree you were pressed against dug into your shoulder. Lust burning, you ground back against him, urging him to kiss lower. He complied, still growling obscenities as he migrated to your collarbones.

"You hah have got to s-stop," he groaned again, flexing his hips, "f-ffucking around."

Your hands, free from his punishing grip, fumbled with his zipper. Pope shoved up against the tree harder, shucking his jeans in one go. You yelped before his hand jammed down your pants, finding the wet patch on your panties. A muffled whine was cut off by his lips while he dug his thumb into your soft, waiting heat.

A guttural purr rumbled out of his still-bloody lips, pressed against your temple. You buried your face shamefully in his neck as he thrust his fingers roughly into you, tearing blinding heat through your spine. You wailed and bucked, trying to urge him to slow down.

His thick digits were dragging against your puffy walls, spreading slick over his hand. Santi felt his eyes cross with the feeling of your wonderfully tight folds fluttering. He gritted his teeth and curled harder, wanting to see the tears threating to fall.

You gave him his wish, shuddering back against the branches as a sudden wave crashed into you, wetness gushing as your cunt sucked desperately at his fingers. He stopped moving and you screamed, wanting to ride it out with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't be greedy," he growled, ripping his soaking fingers from your hole. You whined and wriggled in his tight grip. Santi scowled and nipped your jaw, shoving down his boxers.

The cool evening air tickled, sending gooseflesh down his legs. He stammered a sigh, yanking your hips down over him. You choked at the intrusion, his girth tearing at your walls.

"S-slow down," you pleaded, pushing against his firm chest, "hurts-"

Santi cooed menacingly, thrusting up as hard as he could go. Tears cascaded down your flushed cheeks as he began a punishing pace, the scrape of your tender flesh against the rough floor was music to his ears.

"Hush," he whispered in your ear, groping at your chest, "just hush." You mewled and hiccupped, hips rolling against your will. Burning pleasure twirled up your core as he humped against your spongy center, stroking just there oh-

As he felt your walls pulse and tighten, Pope pulled away, stifling a moan at the loss. Your wet warmth was addicting - but watching you struggle was so much more satisfying. His eyes were heavy-lidded and drunk on the power, seeing your gaze shift from defiant to submissive.

"There we go," he breathed, reaching down to massage at your clit. You whined and leaned forwards, sucking his jaw into your mouth. "Feels better now that you listen, huh? See, see, you don't have to fight m-me ah ohffuck," he whined high and sharp when you yanked his hips forward into yours, crushing his cock between you.

Santi stumbled as you rutted hard, grinding against his weeping length. Stammering and swearing, he grappled for the upper hand, but you pressed him down firmly. Your shirt was rucked high, rosy nipples bouncing with every stroke. You refused to take him inside, face set as you chased a high.

He breathed hard, trying to stave off the rollicking pleasure singing through his veins.

"Stop," he growled, "S-stop, be gahhh," he howled when you reached down and squeezed his balls, making his thighs twitch and seize violently.

"Doesn't feel good, does it," you spat, eyes hazy and chest heaving. You looked desperately beautiful atop him, and Santi felt a strong surge coming through his length.

Your wet heat slid quickly against him, slick dripping onto his stomach. The smell of musk wafted up, adding to the tantalizing taste of you on his lips. Twigs and brambles dug into his back. Pope had stopped fighting, submitting entirely to your strong pace.

Short, stuttering whines lilted from your slack pout as you got closer. He grabbed your hips, grinding you hard on his needy tip. You sighed with pleasure and began rubbing your clit furiously, the rosy, stiff bud shining like a pearl in your velvety folds.

He was in heaven. You shuddered and moaned, folds fluttering and gushing hard over him. Santi bucked at the feeling of your climax, finishing quickly over his abs. You kept thrusting, pleasure overriding your mind.

"More," you breathed, digging your heels into the soft soil, "oh Santi please."

He couldn't deny that, though every nerve was screaming in overstimulation. You continued to wreck him on the jungle floor, simmering in lustful heat.

Later he crawled back to the Jeep, a half-conscious you slung over his shoulders. Fish and Will were waiting, but made no comment at your kiss-bitten neck and Santi's lust-blown eyes.

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @silvernight-m @to-be-a-sunshine

comment to join!

quintessential fic phrases

if your fic doesn't contain at least two of these it is not a valid fic. apologies.

"he filed that away for later"

"ate 'x' out like a man/woman starved

'oh. oh.'

missing the other person's glances or looks or whatever

"saw stars/fireworks/lava exploded"

praise kink. reader always has a praise kink, and at least one of a diff pairing will too.

'he growled'

reblog any more

Imagine cuddling with Nathan while he’s doing work, in that one position where the people are facing each other with one on the other’s lap and you can put your head on their shoulder (idk how to describe it) like the one where yo can stick your legs through the gaps in the base of the armrests and chair. That. But we fall asleep and Nathan just… lets us sleep there.

He’s inconvenienced because he can’t get up without waking us and he’s feeling nice for once. So he just has to stay there.

Hi nonny,

It is with hat in hand that I return to you. I can picture EXACTLY what you're saying and it brings warmth to my cold, dead heart. I was unable to find a picture, which makes me sad because I want you to know that I get it!

The very idea of holding onto Nathan as he works, his physical discomfort slowly building from the position, while his emotional comfort ramps up in a way he didn't think was possible. Your sleeping body like a security blanket, grounding him, soothing him.

He types and writes, enjoying the pleasant weight. Your warm, bare skin on his. And then he realizes he's not working anymore. He's just sitting in the feeling of you.

This is what it feels like to have a fraction of peace. A sliver of space in his brain to just... fucking... breathe.

He shifts slightly, only a twitch, to get the blood flowing back into his left leg. You move a little and he is seized by the fear that you're going to wake up and move, leave him cold and alone. He used to work all night like that, before you came into his life. He can't do that again. He can't go back to that.

Instead, you tuck your face further into the crook of his neck, still sleeping. Nathan breathes again. Breathes you in.

His arms are around you. His hands rest on your back. He pulls you with him as he leans back in his chair, the springs groaning with the weight of two bodies. But the chair will hold. And he'll hold you. And you hold him.

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pride - nathan bateman

seven sins series

so this is a little different...I thought of pride like control? like d/s stuff. there is subdrop in this but it is dealt with positively and there is aftercare. just letting you know xox

Nathan had mastered this. It was his favorite study he'd conducted - the frailty of the human mind. To see just how far he could push until it fell apart. He'd delighted in coaxing your mind away from your body, keeping it stable in some distant, floaty headspace.

Currently, he was watching you intently, searching your face for tells. He'd chosen today to troubleshoot something, but he needed you submissive.

It starts with tone. His voice would smooth over, dark and deep like a polished river stone. Nathan would touch you subtly while he spoke; a hand on your elbow or a gentle caress of your shoulder. Once you had relaxed, knowing he was calm, he'd slip in a pet name.

Get me a pen, will you, doll?

Thank you, honey.

It took about an hour of constantly repeating the steps for you to begin the descent. Nathan could tell when your eyes would soften and you had a light smile hung over your cheeks. Then he'd start casual intimacy; pulling you into his lap, kissing your cheek, petting your hair. Once your cheeks were rosy and warm he knew you were steadily slipping.

Currently, you were knelt between his legs, head draped on his strong thigh. Nathan was reading something, hand absently stroking your head. A desk fan was whirring quietly in the background, the ambient noise punctuated by the shffing of the pages flipping.

Though Nathan seemed distracted, he was carefully analyzing your reactions. You were slack-jawed and happy, hungry for whatever he'd give you. It made his ego glow proudly.

Nathan let his hand wander to your cheek, stroking circles while scratching beneath your ear. It sent shivers down your back and you purred, nosing into his sweatpants. The soft cotton smelled of him - clean and warm, with a bite of something earthy. It soothed you further into the clouds, melting your mind into a pool of nothing.

He kept up the firm, even strokes until you'd sunk to his liking. Carefully setting the book down, he tapped his leg.

"Warm me, honey?"

You blinked slowly, lashes fluttering, before sliding forward and pulling down his waistband. He'd foregone underwear and you drooled, leaning forward to press a kiss at his semi-hard length. Nathan grunted, shifting to let you fit between his thighs.

Feeling a blanket of comfort fall over you, you began to suckle at him, tongue teasing his slit and the thickness. His cock rested heavy and grounding in your mouth. You were comforted by the feeling. A pleasant ache throbbed in your throat as you took him all the way, breathing in his salty musk.

Nathan tapped his thigh again and you stopped sucking, letting the warm heat of your mouth do the rest. You fluttered your lashes again, gazing up at him in adoration. He kept his breaths measured with difficulty, groaning at the sight of you so ready for him.

The tightness of your throat was heavenly. Your cheeks pulsed with the blush spreading across your face, the hot wetness thrumming like a vibrator around his length.

Nathan felt the blood rushing and he twitched, hardening. You whined and shifted, opening wider to accommodate. He sighed low and gravelly, reaching down to thumb your cheek.

"There's a good girl, fuckin' beautiful," he breathed, sitting further forward. Like a good pet you didn't move back, instead leaned forward, nuzzling into his hip.

Nathan wasn't gonna last. With a long hiss he pulled you off of him, saliva glistening on his throbbing red tip. You licked your lips, pouting with need. He cooed, pulling you up and to his lap.

"I have something for you," he whispered in your ear, massaging your backside. You rolled your hips at the feeling, eyes bright with intrigue.

"Something?"

He nodded, kissing your neck gently. He had to breach this very carefully, so not to break the fragile cage he had your mind in. Usually he was rougher by now, taking what he wanted with unfaltering determination. You were unused to his gentleness, but accepted it willingly.

"Go upstairs," he murmured, hand slipping to cup your breasts, "and lay on the bed. Take these off." He tugged at the elastic of your panties, punctuating the request with a sudden squeeze of your nipple. Dripping with anticipation, you scampered away.

He took a minute to stave off his pulsing cock before standing. Your obedience was the most arousing thing he'd ever seen. To know that he'd gotten you there with nothing but some words...

Made him feel like a fucking god.

Retrieving the wrapped bundle from his desk, he stalked after you.

Just as he asked, you were lying on the bed, naked save for your bra. He could see a small pool of slick at your entrance, folds glistening with anticipation. Your hands were clean - this was just for him.

Nathan leaned down and kissed you, hands stroking your waist. You moaned into his mouth, hips undulating slowly, greedy for friction. He let you hump the air for a moment before swiftly smacking your thigh.

"Knock it off," he said firmly. You felt the change in tone, whimpering and squirming away. Nathan ran a hand through his beard and unwrapped the gift he'd brought.

You sat up curiously.

"What's that?"

He laid it between you with a flourish. It was a harness, with a small black disk and a metal cage on one end. Nathan's hand rested on your thigh.

"Listen carefully." His tone was authoritative. You shivered at the dominance, squeezing your thighs together. The slick leaking from your core was sticky and smelled strongly of lust, making his head swim.

"I'm going to get you ready, and then you're going to put this on." Nathan pointed to the chair in the corner of the room. "I'm going to sit right there and watch you get off. Your safeword-"

"Blue."

"Good."

Setting the toy aside, Nathan grabbed your legs and wrenched them apart, latching onto your clit. You moaned, louder, desperate for his attention.

Sheets twisted in your strong grip as his beard dragged coarsely along your inner thighs, adding a delicious sensation to the hot, broad strokes of his tongue.

Nathan was shuddering against the bed, groaning with pleasure. Your folds were velvety and soaking in your delectable scent, making a buzzing high flood his veins. Within moments you were gushing over his tongue. He lapped greedily, making sure to leave some for the toy.

Wrenching himself away took effort. He sucked your juices from his beard, fisting his cock to relieve the pressure. You mewled and reached out to feel him.

"Don't be bad," he snapped, swatting your hand away. You keened, eyes round with lust.

Nathan began to slip the harness around your hips. The black disk rested against your entrance, cool and hard. The cold shell was stark against your hot cunt, the aftershocks intensified.

He beckoned you to roll your hips, ensuring the cage or harness wasn't too tight.

"Color?"

"G-green," you breathed, squirming with anticipation. He slipped a small remote into his hand and backed against the chair, hand immediately going to his cock. He couldn't wait to watch you fall apart, collapsing into his hands like a doll. Like something he could control.

A small click, and your breath hitched.

The disk had begun to grow, swelling and pushing against your needy hole. You whimpered, sending a terrified look at Nathan. He watched, enraptured, as the artificial cock grew and sucked into your messy center.

"Fuck..." he groaned, hardening in his hand, "look at you, so wet for me, huh?"

Your chest heaved and you bucked, whining loudly as the remote dildo began plundering in and out, thick silicone hammering your insides. The first orgasm was of pure shock, like a dousing of ice water to your depraved system.

The added slick made the dildo slide faster, stroking every inch of your insides. It swelled more, making you choke. Your thighs trembled with the force of the thrusts. Gaze blurring with tears, you grabbed onto the bedpost for dear life, rutting hard against the wood, trying to regain control.

"N-Nathan," you sobbed, a wail tearing the thought to shreds. Hot pleasure soared through you again, dripping cum down your legs and onto the sheets.

"That's okay," he gritted out, tugging at his cock, "that's j-just right baby, ah.." His own pleasure roiled at your debauched expression.

The black rubber was rocking your pelvis with its strength, rendering your legs useless. You fell back onto the mattress, hips arching. He got the best view of his life - your puffy pink folds glistening creamily with arousal, fluttering and sucking around his prototype.

'F-fuck me," he groaned to himself, panting with need. His hips rocked of their own accord, wrist tightening.

You whined high again, a throaty sob wracking your ribs as another wave of slick coursed out of you. Your clit was dying from the constant stimulation.

Time slowed. The air felt thick and hot and damp on your shivering skin, melting every conscious thought in your head. The rhythmic punches of the cock in your stomach were all you could focus on. The feel of bedsheets beneath you was distant, unfocused.

Your body was drifting away, a blade slicing the trembling connection. Another orgasm crested, soaking you further. You shuddered as feverish pleasure rocketed up your spine.

Nathan was humping himself into his hand, groaning and huffing.

"G-good girl, baby," he growled, "doing so g-goohshitffuck-" he gasped and choked as his release punched him in the gut, spurting over the pristine floors.

You heard Nathan's cry, suddenly reminded of his presence. Raising a hand, you shakily reached for him, struggling to sit up through the strong aftershocks. Your thighs had gone numb, and you slid off the bed into a tangled heap.

The cold floor made you mewl, arching away from the freezing linoleum. Nathan grabbed you, pulling you close to his chest. The dildo scissored harder, now twisting in a figure eight. You keened and moaned, bucking your hips against his, trying to escape the mechanical pleasure.

"No more," you blubbered, whining into his shoulder, "n-no more please ah-" It seized you again and you began to cry, fisting your hands into his shirt. Nathan watched, slack-jawed with awe.

His creation was perfect. It had reduced you to a state in minutes that would have taken him hours. You were a mess and still reached for him, craved his attention.

"Perfect," he breathed. He was a genius.

Your hand grabbed at his neck and you pulled him in for a kiss, teeth clashing and tongues lapping at each other. Arousal gripped him again, and he felt his sensitive length begin to harden.

Nathan inhaled deeply and fumbled at your harness.

"Enough, enough, no more," he gritted out, "my turn now, princess." He yanked out the dildo, squelching obscenely. The suddenness made you throb, pussy clenching and unclenching in the emptiness.

Spiking, achy pleasure pulsed under your skin. You felt feverish and on the verge of passing out. Your tongue lapped at Nathan's salty sweat, needing him.

He growled, pinning you to the soiled sheets. You thrashed away from him, aching for a break.

"Be good," he barked, smacking your ass, "ass up, baby, you know how this goes. There we go," he grinned when you complied, struggling to keep yourself upright. Your thighs trembled.

He watched your pussy quiver in anticipation, clit stiff and swollen. "Pretty thing's tired, huh? Too bad."

With one, hard push he was fully seated in you. You collapsed forward, twitching and screaming with overstimulation.

His cock was thicker than the fake one, and throbbing with need. It pulsed hot and strong inside you, pushing your already exhausted nerves to beyond the max. As he began a fast, shallow pace, you shook limply.

Like a ragdoll, you leaned into every touch, eyes empty and mouth slack, drooling over the pillows. A whine had begun to buzz in your ear, and you felt a sudden rush of vertigo. Nathan's fast thrusts and pumping hips slapped against yours, rattling your fucked-out brain.

The warm haze of earlier now felt too hot. You sucked your lip, trying to keep from crying. Something...something was wrong. It felt like you were falling in a dream, that quick rushing terror from something? Nothing? You didn't know.

Blearily, you reached for Nathan, wanting comfort. He took your hand and pressed it close to his chest, still rutting into your abused cunt.

too...too much. too much, too much, too far, we need to-

Your chest gripped with terror as you struggled to remember the safe word. uh oh, uh oh uh oh.

"Nathan," you whimpered through a moan. "N-nathan, w-wait-"

"I know, pet, I know," he growled, "taking me so well, taking it all so w-well f-fuck." His length pulsed again, and the panic gripped you tighter.

Your torn mind flailed and scrabbled at anything to focus, to think through the oppressive haze of subspace that choked you. Achy heat slurred your thoughts into a mush, but the tears were real.

Hot, bubbling and torrential tears flooded your cheeks as you urged away from his harsh grip on your thighs. Nathan hissed and yanked you closer, flipping you to face him.

He hesitated at your hiccupping sobs and wrecked expression.

The brief slowing of his hips allowed for one, shimmering moment of clarity.

Blue. Blue, blue-

"Blue," you whispered hoarsely, shuddering at another punch of nausea.

Nathan wrenched himself out of you, swearing rapidly. "Okay, okay, okay," he muttered, pulling you up and off of the wet sheets. You continued blubbering, your entire lower half throbbing in pain.

A combination of his and your slick dripped steadily out of you, puddling on the bathroom floor.

"I got you," he cooed frantically, rubbing a hand up and down your sweat-sticky back. You heaved and twitched, still spinning down from the clutches of your headspace.

Nathan turned on the shower to a warm temperature and stripped off your bra and his pants, pulling you in beside him. As you clung to him desperately, he opened a bottle of lavender shampoo and let the calming scent flood the bathroom.

it's over, it's over, good girl was pressed into your hair. His beard tickled, you thought deliriously, searching for anything to calm yourself. A cool rag passed over your shoulders and down your chest, soothing the harsh bites he'd left behind.

Nathan's heart pounded, searching your face with a stricken expression. Your eyes were still foggy, but the tears had stopped. okay, okay. go slow. she needs slow. Giving you room to breathe, he lathered up the cloth again and knelt.

"Spread, honey," he said gently, tapping your legs. "Just gonna clean up, teasing is over, but you need to budge up."

Timidly you obeyed, revealing your overused cunt. He wiped as gently as he could, glasses fogging in the steam. Your folds still wept release, swollen so hot he could feel the heat radiating.

"You went far, hm?" He murmured, standing to pull you into his chest. You shivered and nodded, clutching at his wet shoulders. The clean cottony smell of his skin soothed the raw edges of your mind slightly.

Nathan shut off the water and wrapped you in a towel. "Drink," he instructed firmly, lifting a glass of water to your lips.

trying not to choke, you took a swallow and settled back against him.

Nathan picked up the cue. you needed grounding. He held you, wrapped in a thick towel. Maybe tighter than you'd usually like, but the slight squeeze helped cajole your mind into a stabler position.

"That's it," he muttered, "did so fuckin' good for me, honey. Just take a breather. In and out."

You rocked slightly, exhaustion creeping in. His chest rose and fell exaggeratedly, coaxing you to follow. A heavy quiet had fallen, drowning out the echoes of screams in your head.

The sheets were changed and lights off. Nathan drew you up onto his lap, eyes serious.

"I won't make you do that again, okay?" His tone was paced and intentional. You nodded, nibbling your lower lip. Gently, he pried it from your teeth and stroked your mouth.

'This," he gestured between you, "this is a game. I'm winning, because I'm in control, and you're tagging along. But when you think you're losing," he said, softening his eyes, "that's when the game stops. Understand?"

you nodded, eyes gentle. He slipped his thumb in your mouth, which you gladly accepted. You were still drifting in subspace, but close enough to the real world that your breath was grounded. Suckling gently on the warm pad of his finger, you drifted off, held tight against his chest.

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