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ivystoryweaver · 5 months ago

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your dads rival!leto atreides headcanons were delicious what do you think about dads rival!nathan bateman?

Your Father’s Rival!Nathan Bateman

Would Nathan engage in mainstream, juvenile behavior simply to piss off his rival? (Yes. Yes he would) Notes: smut, a bunch of oral, language. it's naughty

Word count: 3k

The above^ mentioned Father'sRival!Leto Atreides hc's @reallyrallyauthor received similar asks (Father's Rival!Nathan) and you HAVE to read the thots and headcanons - they are amazing

Everyone’s on Bluebook. Everyone. Except your family. Your friends never stop complaining about it. Your dad owns a less popular, less lucrative, but still - formidable social media platform, in addition to the rest of his business

And he hates Nathan Bateman.

He and Nathan went to school together-ish, briefly. Your dad was a superstar TA, about to finish his master's degree, when a sixteen-year-old freshman stole his spotlight. Nathan finished his two degrees and all his postgraduate work in two years,

Never got a doctorate because it was “boring.”

Your dad insists Nathan stole the idea for Bluebook. You just laugh at him. “Sure, he did, Dad.”

Despite your father's insistence to the contrary, you show up on Bluebook because you’re always in pictures with your friends.

One day your friend calls you absolutely freaking out. After a string of “oh my god oh my god's” she finally tells you that Nathan Bateman himself has liked her photo.

“Sure he did,” you deadpan. (Do you ever believe anyone?)

The next picture posted with you in it (by a completely different friend) gets a like from him. Then another, and another. One of your friends starts to put it together. Nathan has liked seventeen pictures by 6 different friends and the only connecting factor is that you are in each of them.

Then you get the email. “Nathan Bateman has invited you to join Bluebook.” You laugh. Sure it’s him. As if the reclusive billionaire plays middle school games.

But out of overwhelming curiosity and pure, college rebellion, you sign up before you can think too hard about it.

Your friends go crazy. “Look who’s finally here!” You get tagged in a hundred and one things…and Nathan likes every single one of them.

“Nathan Bateman follows you.” With the authenticated checkmark and everything. Your friends become obsessed. They follow every like, screenshotting and reposting like crazy.

Of course, by now, your father is livid. This is a betrayal of your entire family, apparently.

"You cannot give that man an inch," your dad rants, attempting to lecture you while you make dinner.

"What does that even mean?" You huff.

"He's using you to get to me," he conspiratorially rambles, pacing back and forth. "He's trying to destroy me. He's trying to take you away from me."

"He liked some pictures," you shrug, rolling your eyes. "Besides, he probably has like perfect models at his house every other weekend. He definitely doesn't want to take me anywhere."

An alert on your phone chimes.

Nathan Bateman. "Come to a party with me."

Oh shit.

"Who is that?" Your dad practically roars, fearing the worst. He is, unfortunately, correct in assuming Nathan is making a move. Or shit-shirring, whichever.

"Dad, I'm not answering that question." You fold your arms over your chest, tucking your phone out of his sight. "I'm twenty-two. Not twelve."

You lock yourself in your room and reply to Nathan, your heart pounding in your chest as you do.

"How did you get this number?"

"You signed up for Bluebook," He sends back. "I'll pick you up tonight at 10:00."

"Wait, tonight? Where are we going? What do I wear?"

"What you're wearing right now is fine. See you then."

What you're wearing right now.... is he spying on you?

You, of course, change out of your around-the-house clothes and dress in what you hope is passable party attire.

A limo arrives at 10:00 sharp to pick you up and you dart out the door, thankful your dad is already snoring on the couch. The driver opens the door for you, but the car is otherwise empty.

Your phone dings. "You changed clothes. I told you not to."

Your mouth drops open as you furiously type back, "You're really fucking creepy."

"Thank you"

You arrive at the nicest hotel in the city and are shuffled up to the penthouse. Nathan himself greets you in a white undershirt, thin gray joggers and bare feet. The shirt hugs his impressive muscles while the joggers highlight a bulge between his legs that makes your eyes linger.

"Jesus, that took forever. Should've sent the chopper."

He turns on his heel and walks inside, assuming you'll follow, which you do. Glancing around, you realize no one else is at this "party"

He plops down at a dining room table, pulls one leg up into his chair, grabs some chopsticks and continues eating a meal he started without you.

Noticing you standing there, stupefied, he motions to the chair across from him with his chopsticks.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You scoff, folding your arms over your chest.

Dark eyebrows shoot up over his wire frames questioningly.

"I'm allergic to shellfish...and basically like the whole ocean."

(He knows)

"Shit," he laughs. "Better not post a picture of our date, then, or your father will accuse me of attempted murder."

“Date? This is supposed to be a party."

Before he answers you, he holds up his phone and snaps your picture.

"What the hell are you - "

Ding, ding, dingdingingngngngg before you can even finish your sentence, your phone blows up with Bluebook notifications.

Nathan Bateman has tagged you in a photo. It's you, standing here, now. Thank god you dressed cute, but the expression on your face could be better. Still, you've looked worse.

But it's the caption. My fucking hot date

Nathan grabs the phone out of your hand and silences it, making sure it doesn't vibrate either.

"You have notifications on? Desperate." He tuts condescendingly.

You snatch the phone back and whack Nathan on the arm. "You said party. Not date. Do you ever tell the truth?"

He shrugs. "Well...you are fucking hot."

Smooth. “Why…am I here exactly?”

He nods, shoveling more fish into his mouth. “I know you ate dinner with your dad, but those Italian subs you like are on the way if you’re still hungry.”

"Mr. Bateman, really - "

He snorts. "Mr. Bateman was my father."

You gasp in mock surprise. "You mean to tell me you didn't come out of a test tube?"

He motions at you with his chopsticks. "Where do you get that sense of humor? Certainly not from your father. I've never met anyone with less imagination."

"What do you want, Nathan? Assassination by shellfish?" You fold your arms over your chest. "No way am I worth all this effort."

"Nonsense, I've been orchestrating our meeting for some time." Finally he confesses. "I’m buying out your father’s company and I want you to convince him to surrender peacefully.”

You don’t even know where to begin. Your dad is selling? Nathan’s buying? “You would never need someone like me for something like that.” You call his bluff.

He insists he’ll make it worth your while.

“How?”

He shrugs. “I have a huge dick.”

Wha? “You’re disgusting.”

“Why? According to your porn history, you fantasize about riding a big dick. I have one. Your dad surrenders peacefully, you get to ride my dick.”

"If you wanted me to touch you, you shouldn't have covered yourself in deadly allergens. Dumbass."

He continues eating. “Your loss. Your dad will already think we fucked though.”

He’s right. Everyone will actually, after that picture.

“So you might as well at least get a hate fuck out of it.”

“I hate you,” you redundantly declare. You head for the door. He is way over the line.

“You’ll be back.”

The aftermath is absurd. Your father is enraged, your friends will not shut up about your “date” with Nathan (and demand the details about the alleged sex you had with him).

Nathan sends flowers. Tulips (your favorite) mixed with stargazer lilies (which you’re allergic to). 'Miserable without you' the card says.

Your father half seriously threatens to kick you out.

Nathan tags you on Bluebook, saying you’re going to Hawaii together, if you’ll stop being mad at him.

From there, interested people start a whole narrative online, quickly and easily convincing themselves that you’re together. He texts you for weeks (You text him back. He's funny) and even calls you sometimes.

One evening, his face appears on your screen - a call you didn't accept. "Why are you stalking me?"

"Did you pack for Hawaii yet? I sent some things over."

He's working out. No glasses. Tank top. Sweat. Muscles. Fuck, he's hot.

"Yes, Nathan, I got all twenty packages." With beautiful clothes and accessories exactly your size and style. Damn him.

"But you didn't pack?" He waves his hand dismissively. "Fuck it, I'll buy you new stuff when we get there."

You remind Nathan how he is trying to destroy your father's company, not to mention steal your inheritance, so there is definitely no way you're going to Hawaii with him.

"Come over then. No shellfish, I swear. I'll eat you out instead."

Holy shit.

You’re stupefied.

He groans.

“Are you going to stare at the screen or go outside and get in the limo? I’m waiting.”

This time, the limo takes you to a helipad. You reluctantly climb on a helicopter, briefly wondering if this is a corporate kidnapping or the first leg of your alleged Hawaiian adventure. After quite a long ride, you arrive at a well hidden, sprawling estate, tucked effortlessly into the side of a mountain.

It’s freezing, but Nathan waits for you in a light windbreaker and joggers, with bare feet.

You’re secretly thrilled that he’s waiting to greet you. He kisses your cheek almost affectionately, then turns on his heel and walks away. You follow, naturally.

Once inside, he motions to a gigantic vase filled with calla lilies. “Those are for you. My assistant sent you those fucking stargazer lilies. Well, former assistant. By the way, do you want a job?”

Your hands land on your hips. “You already tried to kill me with shellfish, so I just assumed stargazer lilies were the next logical step. And did you seriously just ask me if I want to be your personal assistant? On the heels of you stealing my inheritance?”

“My assistant made almost as much as your father pays himself before I fired him,” he scoffs, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger. "I'm not touching your inheritance." He nods to a stack of papers. "It's all right there. Have your attorneys take a look."

Slowly you approach the table, tracing one fingertip over the beautiful calla lilies before reaching for the papers. You sigh, shaking your head. "You're talking about my dad's life work. He'll never agree."

Nathan shrugs one shoulder. "He said he would if I'd leave you alone. Never see you again, ghost you."

Your eyes go wide. "Then what am I doing here?"

He waves his hand dismissively, inching toward you. "I still have to eat you out."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nathan's thick beard and perfect lips have been nestled scandalously between your thighs for thirty-eight minutes. You've gushed all over him twice, in, hands down, the best orgasms you've ever had in your life.

Better than anybody before him. Better than your vibrator. And your other vibrator.

Your fingertips play with his fuzzy hair as your hips eagerly rock into his face again and again. Tears streak down your cheeks, pooling on the couch pillow under your hair. The overstimulation is like nothing you've ever dreamed - searing every nerve ending in delicious torture.

But you can't stop and he won't stop.

You thought he was fucking with you when he asked you to come over so he could eat you out. He hasn't even used his fingers - only his lips and tongue, stroking, licking, sucking, swirling, fucking up into you over and over. His thick fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place while his thumbs languidly trace the sensitive spot where your ass meets the back of your thigh.

Body shuddering in rapture, you teeter on the precipice of another wave of pleasure tinged with the slightest discomfort skittering along your spine because it's just too fucking much.

"Nathan...Nathan," you breathlessly moan, halfheartedly attempting to push his shoulders away from your pussy.

He raises his head just long enough to meet your blissed out, watery gaze, smiling in satisfaction. "You're close, honey. Give me one more." And dives back in without a moment's hesitation.

"oh fuck..." incoherent moans and gasps follow as he suckles your clit between his lips so tortuously your back arches off the couch. His tongue joins, rapidly flicking your swollen bud as you shatter and gush, squirting all over his tongue and soaking his beard.

Your vision goes white and your body limply falls away from his mouth as he releases you, groaning with the satisfaction that his rival's daughter is underneath him, whimpering and squirting.

His cock is so hard it hurts and he's leaked through his thin joggers, rubbing himself against your leg while he got you off. Now, as you come back to yourself, he pulls his dick out and jerks it rough and quick, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening pussy that he can still taste in his mouth.

Your eyes flicker open to the sight of Nathan, pants pooled at his ankles, thick fingers wrapped around his dick. He was not lying. His cock is huge. Not comedically huge, like ridiculously, unfuckably huge, but definitely the thickest and longest you've ever had.

Not that you've had him. Yet.

Wetting your lips, you reach up to help him jerk off, which pulls a filthy string of curses from his lips. Pushing your fingers through his, you work up and down his shaft, bringing your other hand underneath him to cup his balls. He hisses and then groans as your tongue swirls over his leaking tip.

"If Daddy could see you now. Naked, on your knees, with my cock in your mouth. Fuck..."

You should be mad, or something. But you open your mouth wider and let Nathan push his cock all the way to the back of your throat, gagging as you swallow his tip. The most beautiful, dirty sounds you've ever heard from a man fall out of his lips as he thrusts a few times in rapid succession, praising and degrading you in the same sentence.

You can't breathe, tears burn your eyes, but through your cloudy vision, you can see his lips moving like a prayer, corded neck straining as he releases his hold in his dick and grips the nape of your neck, fucking your face, thrusting so hard you know your jaw will be sore for days.

You keep jerking him, fondling and caressing every bit of him that won't fit in your mouth. It's been a long time since you sucked a cock, and never one this big, but you keep taking it because he sounds weak for you and he's calling you his and telling you how good you feel.

Your mind fleetingly drifts to the safe word he gave you before he dove into your pussy: the one you shrugged off, as if he could possibly make you need it.

He scoffed at you. "Honey, if you don't wanna safeword tonight, I'm doing something wrong."

"Asshole," you huffed as he licked the first stripe between your folds, sending your head flying back and your mouth gasping.

You tap his leg forcefully three times and he instantly pulls out of your mouth as you gag and sputter, your weight falling forward. Bracing yourself on your hands, you drag in gulps of air, realizing that Nathan is above you finishing himself off, getting off on the fact that he's ruined you.

Hot spurts of come splatter across your bare shoulders and back. "Stay down," he orders, sent over the edge by the sight of you naked and on all fours. He unloads on you, painting your skin until he's spent. He flops back on the other end of the sofa, half naked, limp dick flopping as his eyes squeeze shut in bliss.

You're drenched in cum and sweat and your slick, filthy and somehow still wildly turned on. The thought fleetingly crosses your mind - that you wish Nathan would take your picture. Not to post, but it would just feel deliciously dirty to know he had a picture of your naked body, covered in his cum, that he could jerk off to.

"I should post a picture of you now," he lazily grins, reading your mind. "Really piss him off. Get banned from my own site."

You stand, hands landing on bare hips. "Are you going to mention my dad every time we fuck?"

He chuckles, standing to join you. "Have we even really fucked yet? Let's clean up. Our flight to Hawaii is in four hours."

"Hawaii again?" You gasp. "Nathan - "

"Look, you drive a hard bargain," he concedes, throwing his hands up. Reaching for his glasses, he kicks off his joggers off his ankles, now as naked as you. "Final offer: I'm already getting your dad's company. He's being fairly compensated. You still get your inheritance and you have generous stock in my company."

Inching forward, he reaches for the swell of your hips, pulling you flush against his muscled chest. "You get to ride my dick, you come with me to Hawaii, I get to post a selfie of us in bed together."

Your mouth drops open.

"Just from the shoulders up," he counters, before you can fire off a protest.

"I don't think I'm getting much out of this deal," you pout. "Your dick can't be that good."

"It is," he almost playfully assures you, nodding rapidly.

As you roll your eyes, he nibbles on your bottom lip. "Come on. I've never made this much effort for anyone."

"You hate my dad that much?"

"No. I want to fuck you that much."

"You're full of shit, Bateman."

"Smile." He snaps your picture. You dive for the phone, squealing at him not to post it. He has no intention of doing so, but attempting to wrestle the phone away from him is how you end up on his living room floor, riding his huge dick.

As your eyes roll back in your head while you're coming, Nathan smirks victoriously.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

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