nat ♡

“good morning,” debbie places a kiss to your temple as she serves breakfast. mark babbles in his high chair, reaching out for his food and a kiss from his mom. debbie smiles and showers him with her love. you silently watch the exchange, knowing what could happen if you make a fuss in front of mark. you feel a weight in your stomach, not letting you eat. the smell of the syrup and butter almost makes you gag.

“everything alright?” you jolt as you hear nolan behind you. he places his hands on your shoulders, a reminder.

“y-yeah. everything’s… fine.” you silently start to eat as nolan moves to his wife.

“(y/n), sweetheart, can you feed mark? i need to finish up breakfast before nolan leaves.” debbie calls out from the stove. you watch nolan start to help debbie and you look towards the front door, “(y/n)?”

“…sure.” you swallow and move closer to the baby. mark lets you feed him, happily playing along with you. you stroke his hair as he finishes his food, “you’re a cutie, aren’t you?” you gently pinch his cheeks and mark lets out a loud giggle at the feeling.

“you’re really good with him.” nolan sounds proud, watching the two of you, and the feeling comes back.

“i guess…” you move away from mark and he frowns, bottom lip quivering. debbie comes back with more food right as mark starts to wail.

“here nolan, you and (y/n) finish up while i take care of mark.” debbie leaves, cooing at mark as he reaches out to you. the two of you eat in silence, with you forcing the breakfast down and nolan watching your every move. debbie comes back with mark, dressed in new clothes.

a blast of air almost knocks you over as nolan comes back in full uniform, “i expect you to behave while i’m gone, (y/n). i don’t want to be disappointed on your first day upstairs.” you shakily nod and nolan smiles, “good.” he bends down to press a kiss to your head. you hear debbie and mark wish him goodbye, nolan whispering something to her as he kisses her goodbye.

the rest of your day passes smoothly, with you helping debbie around the house and playing with mark when she worked.

“h-how about we take mark to the playground? it might be nice for him to get some fresh air…” you test the waters occasionally, “it… it would also be nice if i could get some sun too.” you lean on the counter where debbie sits, resting your hand on her arm.

debbie looks over from her laptop, eyes searching your face. she sighs, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “oh i’m not sure, sweetheart.” she looks at you, saddened, “maybe tomorrow, we can all go on a family trip.” she smiles, patting your face gently. you nod, trying to hide your dismay.

you put mark to bed, you play with mark, you feed him and change him

you start to become more of a third parent to him

with mark liking you more, nolan and debbie start to trust you more

“really?” you straighten in surprise, barely hiding your glee. nolan looks over his newspaper and chuckles at your voice.

debbie continues, “mark hasn’t seen a beach before, so it’ll be fun to get him used to things like that. plus,” she gets close to you, “i know our baby wants to go out and feel some sun too.” she tilts your head with a finger to press her lips to yours. you melt into her, letting her touch comfort you. you could feel her tongue against your bottom lip, but before your body could betray you, debbie pulls away. she winks at nolan shifting in his chair.

freaky time at the beach cuz im freaky like that

you lay in the sun in the swimwear that nolan had bought you, leaning back on your hands. you watch as the three of them splash around in the water and let your eyes drift, watching the strangers far away from you. the two of them had chosen a spot away from onlookers, and taking a glance towards the parking lot, far from the car. you consider what would happen if you ran. ‘no, too far away, nolan would grab me before i even made it to the cars.’

“penny for your thoughts?” nolan’s deep voice pulled your attention back.

you pull your legs up, resting your head against your knees. “nothing interesting.” you mutter.

“are you sure.”

‘can this asshole read minds? jeez.’ “yeah, i’m sure.” you look back towards debbie and mark, mark giggles wildly as she splashes him, gently. nolan takes a seat next to you. he pats his lap, gesturing to you. you look around, “th-there could be people watching.”

“so?” he quirks an eyebrow at you, puzzled by your attitude. he doesn’t wait for a response, easily pulling you by the waist into his lap. “i knew you would look good in this,” his hands squeeze your thighs, moving back to your waist, “and debbie says i have no taste in fashion.” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. you try to shift away, but nolan grips your waist tighter, “i don’t think you wanna move like that, (y/n), it’s only going to make things harder.” he chuckles to himself. you relent, leaning back against his chest. you close your eyes with the warmth of his skin on your back and the sun against your face. “keep your eyes closed for me.” nolan whispers into your ear as he starts to move you against him.

“nolan wait-”

his grip on your waist hurts as he hisses, “don’t make a scene in front of mark and debbie. this is your only warning, (y/n).” you nod, and his hold on you loosens.

he keeps rocking you against him and you could feel him getting harder against you. you clutch his arms as he starts to move his hips in time with yours. as nolan grinded into you, you couldn’t help but whimper at his touch. you try to squeeze your eyes and dig your nails into his skin, trying to ignore the thought of strangers leering at you, watching as you were getting close to falling apart in one of your kidnapper’s arms.

“(y/n)! nolan! are you guys ready for lunch?” debbie’s voice forces nolan to still. nolan moves you aside as debbie comes over to put mark into your lap. “hold on to him for me, sweetheart.”

you nod, letting mark cuddle closer to you, “hey markie, you liking the beach?” he giggles as you pinch his cheeks. your eyes drift back to watch nolan whisper into his wife’s ear. she bites back a smile, looking over to you. your peaceful beach day was ruined as shame crept into your skin.

debbie and nolan start to trust you more, but not enough to leave you alone in the house.

debbie starts to take you with during errands and when she takes mark to the playground.

it felt nice, getting out of the house.

“god, i’m gonna be late.” you finish making debbie’s coffee, leaving it on the counter for her to take to work. “shit- NOLAN. TAKE MARK TO SCHOOL PLEASE.” she grabs her coffee and presses a kiss to your lips, “i’ll be back a little late, could you tell nolan to pick up from the preschool?” you nod and she kisses you once more before darting out to her car, without bothering to close the door. you blink and she’s gone, nolan replacing her with mark in his arms.

he looks around frantically, trying not to jostle mark. “sweetie, do you know where mark’s-”

you interrupt nolan, “here, i packed everything already. and debbie told me to tell you that you need to pick mark up cause she’s going to be late.” you smile with the bag in hand. nolan sighs.

“thank you, (y/n). what would do without you…” he presses a kiss to your lips before grabbing the bag. “oh, i need to run some errands for the house and i have some stupid meeting about the book-” he waves a hand, annoyed, “-so, i’ll be back a little late too. go ahead and have lunch without me.” he takes off with mark through the back, leaving you alone.

you sit down, exhausted from the normal chaos. you enjoy the silence in the house after being left alone. your eyes fall on the open front door and you sigh, “gosh, debbie…” you walk over, hand ready to close it when you pause. it’s open. for the first time since you were brought here, they left the door open. “is… is this a trap?”

if this was set-up by nolan and you run, you’ll lose the freedom you earned from them.

if this was an accident… you have time. time to run and never be found.

but what if you are found, omni-man would be hunting for you. he will find you.

you could hear your heart beat faster; you couldn’t breathe. this could be your only chance.

stockholm syndrome had taken root in you a long time ago. the couple had already molded you into their perfect plaything. you just hadn’t realized it until that day.

“(y/n)? what’re you making?” mark drops his bag on the couch.

“hey, markie. i’m just getting started on dinner. not hanging out with your friends today?” you smile as mark comes over to lean on your back. you feel him cringe at the pet name.

“nooo, they’re all busy. dad back from space yet?” his voice is muffled with his face pressed in your back.

“no, your mom said cecil doesn’t expect him to be back for another couple days, but cecil doesn’t know your dad like we do.” you chuckle to yourself. you turn around, letting mark properly hug you. “you should get started on your homework before dinner.” you give him a kiss on the head and mark leans into your touch.

“ughhh, can’t i just help you with cooking? i’d rather help my parents out than do homework.” mark mumbles into your shoulder.

you laugh, holding him closer, “oh my sweet markie,” you hear a muffled response at the name, “go finish your work and we can go a family movie night or something.” he pulls away from you with a pout. you pinch his cheeks and he grumbles.

“alrighttt, but i get to pick the movie.” he shoots you a fake glare and you nod with a laugh.

you helped raise mark since he was a baby, so you really are a third parent to him

he didn’t really understand the nature of your relationship with nolan and debbie, so they waited to really explain stuff when he get a little older.

when nolan explained to mark what actually happened in the beginning, he talked to you after his parents left

asking if you were happy and if you needed help, but by that point, you were too far gone

you just nod and say of course, but tell him to never mention to his parents what he asked you

debbie’s moans were music to your ears as you licked up her slit. you could feel nolan’s finger press into you, “god, (y/n), it’s like you get tighter no matter how many times i stretch you out.” you moan at the feeling, but debbie uses a hand to keep your head between her legs.

“don’t distract-” you cut debbie off, your tongue pressing against her clit. she moans and grinds onto your tongue, using you for her pleasure.

“relax for me, angel.” nolan grunts as he presses into you. you moan, unable to move, sandwiched between the two. before long, you were getting manhandled by both of them. nolan’s hands squeeze your hips as he pistons into you; debbie’s legs crush your head as she keeps you caged. all you could do was let them use you, letting yourself drown in pleasure.

they like to switch it up sometimes, but usually they’re both using you or tying you down to watch them make out

they used to do that in the beginning, since you were so “unruly”, and they liked seeing you squirm :)

anyway, these freakmeisters are into a lot of freak shit so don’t be surprised if there’s a weekend getaway to some cabin in the woods while mark is staying over at william's, and they end up fucking you against a tree

or going to some nice hotel and making you go down on them in the pool

idk they’re freaky as hell

i can imagine a lot of things…. writing it is a whole other issue lolol

He responds with a hum, lips brushing against the hollow of your temple and you're trying to wriggle free. But it's damn near impossible.

His bicep bulges, and Nolan's free hand continues to push at the buttons of the remote, your search history displayed on a 70 inch screen.

"Baby, no. This is—" You're interrupted when Nolan tuts you, the corners of his brilliant blue eyes crinkling with amusement at the way your cheeks begin to flush.

"I wanna know what kind of things you're into, sweetheart." He coos, before clearing his throat.

"Okay, first one, 'how to fold an origami chihuahua'." Nolan snorts. "Did you learn how to do it?"

He glances down at you, your lips pursed before you nod your head. Almost reluctantly and he hums, a low rumble of approvement in his broad, burly chest.

"My nimble fingered girl."

And he diverts his attention back to the screen. You're not even sure what to be more embarassed about.

Your trips to Oxford dictionary, your dawdling spent on Urban Dictionary or the stupid things you look up for on WikiHow.

"Ohhh... A Cosmo article." Nolan hums. "You wanna learn how to squirt?"

And your cheeks flare up, and you try to slide lower, but he's got one of those stupidly muscular arms tucked beneath your arms, and he's keeping you anchored.

"You know, everytime you come close, you start crying and make me feel bad." Nolan hums, mocking you and you let out a disgruntled whine.

"Literally, what's the point of you doing this?" You complain. "It's embarassing."

"Is it so wrong of me to wanna learn about my wife and her interests?" Nolan huffs, almost dramatic as he stares down at you, inky moustache raising with his grin as he spots the way your eyes narrow.

"Especially since, you know, I'm never really at home and you feel all," he lets out a heavy sigh, "neglected and all."

And your eyes widen.

"Were— were you eavesdropping on my conversation?" You question, brows scrunching into a frown and Nolan leans down, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head once again.

"Focus on the part that I'm improving my schedule." Nolan chides you gently and he gently uses the hand that's not wrapped around you, to guide your face back towards the TV.

You'd complain and gripe, if you weren't so acutely intune to the way he touches you. Almost reverently.

His hand splayed across the expanse of your belly, his thumb swiping gently at the soft skin just below your breast, tracing the flesh through the fabric of your nightie. And he's just so warm and burly. It feels like you're curled up against a furnace and you're not even mad about that.

"You looked at our house eighteen times on Google Earth."

The laughter in his voice isn't hidden, dimples appearing in his sculpted cheeks and full, dark brows raise in surprise at your next search.

"Omni-Man... Up cape?" He reads, mulling the words over before letting out a breath. "You are shameless."

"I'm plenty ashamed now." You argue and he snorts.

"You weren't ashamed when you were trying to find pictures of my ass on the internet."

The glow of the TV is the only light in the room, the door shut and the light of the ensuite is dimmed, the door slightly ajar. The covers are heavy, weighted blankets that make you feel just a bit more secure in Nolan's arms and his head dips occasionally, pressing ticklish kisses to the curve of your neck.

And he hums. Low and rumbly.

"What's this?" He muses, before scrolling further.

"You watch a lot of porn." He comments. "Like... A lot."

"I'm very particular." You defend, eyes downcast to where his muscular thighs press against yours on either side, bracketing you against his body and your chest heaves as you let out a breath.

"I'll bet." He mumbles. "Guess that's why you went to page 113."

And you press your face against Nolan's bicep, your cheeks burning and your ears tinge red when the screen goes down, a little arrow forming a circle appears for a brief moment before one of the videos show.

Showcasing the exact timestamp where you stopped.

"Hm..." He hums softly. "S'that where you came?"

His voice is so quiet, a husky sound that sends chills up your spine and you weakly nod your head, peeking at the screen and you're watching a girl get her back blown out. Eyes shut, brows furrowed and mouth parted to let out pitchy moans that seemed a bit too loud for your comfort right now.

Especially since it's on a huge ass TV.

Nolan's hand moves between your thighs and you open them willingly, shifting your legs until they're spread salaciously, suspended over his own, thickly corded legs. And he lets out an amused huff of laughter, fingers sliding over the swell of your folds, pressed so snugly against the cotton of your panties. You bite your bottom lip, tilting your head back enough to peer at Nolan through your lashes.

"Keep your eyes on the screen." He instructs you so gently, guiding your head back to focus on the screen of the TV, and he hums softly, dragging a calloused digit along your soaked gusset, tracing your slit. He narrowly dips his fingers into you, just to feel the way your panties cling to your slick, before they move back into place.

Before you breath can stutter, Nolan's ripping your panties at the sides with ease, pulling the fabric out from beneath you and discarding it to God knows where.

And he glances back towards the screen. Tight circles being rubbed around your clit, his blunt digit nestled between velvety folds and he listens to the way your heart pounds in your chest. Breathy sighs slipping past your lips and your brows scrunch in that way that makes his heart sputter just a bit, and he brushes his tongue along his bottom lip.

"That's it..." He whispers softly. "Just keep watching TV."

You keep your eyes glued on the screen. Not because you necessarily want to, but because you know Nolan's spiteful enough to pull away and ruin the orgasm that's creeping up your legs in that steady rhythm.

And you swallow.

"Does it feel good?" He coos softly and you nod weakly, muttering the sweetest 'uh-huh' as your eyes don't even move from the TV screen, lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing.

You look like the cutest thing right now.

A little doll in his lap.

You're just so pretty. Big, blown out eyes, plump lips that are parted to let out the sluttiest sighs and he feels the way your clit throbs beneath the pressure of his finger.

"You almost there, sweet girl?" He hums softly and you nod your head.

Biting down on your bottom lip and your brows scrunch.

Your belly dips inward and that tightly wound cord in your belly snaps.

You're coming at the soft, gentle stimulation so easily, your toes curling against the sheets and your legs attempting to close but his infallible thighs keep them from doing so.

Slick coats Nolan's fingers but he's not really paying too much attention to that, focused more on the way you shift and wriggle in his grasp, and the arm around you tightens it's grip.

One meaty finger pushes into your cunt, the squelch is lewd and your lips are parting in an 'o' shape that makes him dizzy.

Your head lolls and you feel like a whore when drool trickles down your bottom lip, swiped away by Nolan's thumb as his finger curls, pressing against that sweet, spongy spot that makes your vision dot.

Nolan feels the way your nails dig into his forearm, watches the way your brows knit and his head dips, tongue dragging along your pulse. Lingering just long enough to feel the thrumming hidden beneath the curve of your jaw, and he laps up the perspiration speckled across your skin.

"You gonna start clearing your cookies, sweetheart?" He teases you, slowly pushing another thick finger into your drooling pussy and your eyes nearly cross, head tipping back and you can feel the way your brain melts with each pump of his thick fingers.

You feel each callous, each knuckle, you feel the cool band of his wedding ring kissing your plump pussy with each pump.

And you nod weakly.

"Uh huh..." You're lying.

You both know you are and a large, powerful hand grasps your jaw, tilting your head to meet his gaze and Nolan presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is desperate, needy, his tongue dragging against yours, claiming each inch of your soft mouth, your lips slick with your drool and he swallows each of your moans. Each whine you let into his mouth, is an unforgiving thrust of his fingers.

When you're coming around his fingers, you melt into a pliable puddle in his grasp, and you feel the way he presses kisses to the side of your face, gently bringing you down from your high. He pushes your cum back into you, slick fingers dragging against your walls and he lets out a soft breath.

Handing you the remote.

"Pick the next video."

Mark likes to think he was on the perfect path to be a viltrumite, that was,

Until he met you.

His father told Mark who he was from an early age. At eight years old, Mark knew it all.

Of course, he knew that his father was a viltrumite, that he had come to Earth - thats what everyone knew. What only Mark knew though? That his father had come to decimate, to breed, to lurk underneath the cracks of human civilization and slowly uproot it like some kind of unforeseen monster.

He knew that his mom was a simple pet, unloved, forgotten, a simple breeding machine used to test how viltrimute and human blood would mix.

Mark was told love wasn't real, and he believed it.

Mark was told that when he finally joined the viltrumite empire, he would be matched with a strong woman. One with good genes that he could breed with, one that he could fuck into with any care in the world. One were he didn't have to worry about giving her flowers, one were he didn't have to worry about paying for dates, one were he didn't even have to worry about coming home at night. A simple one and done to keep the population would suffice, he would never have to see the woman again if he pleased; and the same went for her. Besides for their offspring's 18th birthday of course.

Love was a fairytale, and he couldn't afford fairytales.

So every time he felt an urge, every time he thought one girl was prettier than the last, he ignored the heat that slowly coiled in his groin. Laying in wait, like some untrained animal. Instead, he veered his gaze towards training, towards getting stronger, towards proving to his father that he was worth the wait.

He hadn't even touched himself, remaining celibate despite how other boys around him got hard at even the smallest whiff of a girl.

Then he met you.

You.

A man.

Incapable of breeding.

Yet capable of loving.

Capable of loving someone as cold as him.

He doesn't know when it started, and he doesn't know when he realized it. You met in 2nd grade. So when did it start? Did he meet you in second grade, become your best friend in the 3rd, then unknowingly fall inlove with you in the 4th?

Mark should be ashamed that he fell inlove, he should be ashamed that he went against his fathers orders, ashamed he went against the Empires orders. He should be ashamed that -not only did he fall inlove with a weak human- he fell inlove with someone incapable of helping him reproduce and carry on his lineage.

He should be ashamed at the way he's panting, ashamed at the way his legs twitch at his found pleasure; the way his fingers curl into your sweaters sleeve just to ground his wavering mind. A sign of weakness.

He's not supposed to be weak.

He's supposed to be a viltumite.

He's supposed to be his fathers son.

Yet when you whisper to him so sweetly, guiding his hand under yours to press down on his leaking tip, he swear his eyes rolls so far back that he's seeing white. Sparks flying through his senses as you guide his thumb to circle around the cockhead, the digit slowly sliding with ease with the pure amount of pre-cum you're helping work out of him. Mark's forehead doses your shoulder with sweat as he leans forwards, heavy pants heating his own face.

You have him backed against your headboard, legs spread open like he's the sun, with the scene only finished with you on your knees Infront of him. Drinking up every facial expression you could, fascination openly on your face as you watched him wriggle and moan.

Mark's supposed to take the lead. He's supposed to take over the planet, rule over you all like primitive pests.

Yet he can't help but listen to you as you whisper softly in his ears, praising and guiding him like he some fragile little thing that could break at any moment. And he hates how it makes his toes curl, hates how it makes that foreign, pleasurable feeling bubble up in his stomach.

"If you keep doing it that fast, it's not going to feel as fulfilling," You muttered in his ear, pausing when you no doubt hear his open whine. Your hand is encasing his so he'd stop abusing his own poor tip -the skin angry and weeping at the sudden harsh rubbing- and you can only grin at how his other hand tightens on your sweater like a lifeline, "Let me guide you, alright?"

Mark can only shudder shamefully at how breathy your voice comes out, puffing hot air into his ears, tickling him. Tears of what had to be a mix of overwhelming confusion, shame, and pleasure mixing into the spit and sweat on his face.

He feels your hand guide his, using his own pre-cum to slickly run your joined palms up and down his cock. The pace is even, slow, precise, one that has him thirsting for more. And embarrassment burns at his ears when his dick feels that much harder, pulsing, at the meagre movements you lend him.

He could snap your wrist, yank your hand off him, and crush your head in if he wanted - and he should. Fuck, he should be doing it right now.

But he can't.

He doesn't know why, he can't understand it. Yet as his glassy eyes peer up at you, something else coils in his stomach when he finds you watching him. Your gaze somehow warmer than the length of your soft skin on his as you guide his hands, slowly moving faster, and faster, until you have him gritting his teeth and juttering his hips. Fucking up into his own hand.

"Just like that Mark." You mutter.

And he listens.

He curses, clenching his jaw and throwing his head back as he began to fuck into your conjoined hands like some filthy animal. Hips rolling and rutting, desperately like a dog in heat. Your voice in so soft, and so warm, warmer than anything he's every felt.

All of his worries suddenly leave him when he hears you yelp as you're pushed onto your back, allowing him to climb on top of you with ease. And he can only praise whatever god may be out there when you don't let go of his pulsing cock when his hand slips to ground himself next to your head, the appendage no doubt rutting into the calluses of your skin at an uncomfortable pace. Mark whimpers when your grip tightens in place of his, his mouth falling open and his eyebrows crinkling in pleasure.

Its shameful.

It's filthy.

It's disgusting.

It's-

"Just like that Mark, come on-" You encourage, watching him drop his head and cry out like some wailing child.

It's fucking amazing.

And when he's snapping his hips faster, fucking into your hand like some kind of personal toy, he doesn't have the forefront to think about how he's imagining fucking you. Pulverizing you, thrusting into you at an inhuman pace that makes only you feel as good as you're screaming, crying out. Cuming silly on his cock as he kisses up your body like you're some sort of god.

He wants to hear them, your moans, your whimpers, your cries as he fills you up over and over again. Fucking you, filling you, like you had the ability to carry his children, to become pregnant and make his father proud.

Make you untouchable to any other fucking Viltrumite that even tried to touch you.

Yet he doesn't say that as he unfills into your hand, crying out as pleasure rakes through his body. He feels you flinch as he cums all over your chest, the white ropes of his release thickly draping over you like some kind of art piece. Yet, you don't let go, your free hand instead going to grip his waist to steady him; keep him in the moment.