The Dark Mark (Mark/Dark/Wilford/Google x Reader)

7

It wasn't that I wanted to do everything Wilford told me to do. I mean, of course I did want to, but I'm not sure if I actually wanted to, or if that was just the overall effect of him on me. Conventionally, if I look at him piece by piece, there's nothing about him that would ever attract me. Sure, his eyes are the type of eyes I adore, and his body is everything I could dream of... but that aside...? Nothing else would really draw me in. The pink moustache and hair, for starters, would normally be a huge turn-off, but he pulls them off pretty nicely... and the suspenders, sure, they're a nice touch to a pretty neat outfit... but really? I have no idea why I'm so into it altogether. Look at me, writing in the present tense as though I still love him... maybe I do. I'm really not sure at this point. I guess after everything I've been through, I have a touch of Stockholm syndrome... or maybe I'm just as mad as he is. But you're not here for the now - you're here for what happened. So I'll get back to that. 

Wilford, in short, had pissed Dark off to a greater extent than I could have imagined. Granted, I didn't care for much else that day other than Wilford's quite amazing tongue and his even more amazing dick, but that's beside the point - I'd forgotten almost completely about Mark and Dark and Google. It wasn't until the clock on the mantelpiece chimed six that I realised I'd actually spent the whole day being the object of Wilford's desire. Only then, after God only knows how long of him in me and on me and under me did I spare a thought for Mark... my heart lurched. Mark. Wilford lay with his arms around me, me on his chest, holding me tightly. 

"You're mine, you know." It was as though he'd read my thoughts. 

"Yes, Wilford, I know," I said softly, placing my hand over his heart. "Yours, and yours alone." A sentence he'd trained me to say, if I wanted my pleasures from him. 

"Then stop it."

"What?"

"Stop IT."

"Stop what?" I lifted my head to look at him. 

"Stop thinking about that wretched Markiplier." He mocked Mark's screen name, and I rolled my eyes. 

"I'm thinking about him now because you've mentioned him." I sniffed and settled back down. But try as I might, I couldn't stop the guilt that pooled in my stomach. Mark had sat by me... he'd taken the beating - I stopped myself. I still didn't truly know what part of himself Mark had sold for Dark, Wilford and Google to come to fruition. 

"You've no idea in the slightest what he's done." I screamed. Wilford's voice rang loud and clear in my mind. I looked up and pushed back from him. He looked as shocked as I was. 

"What did you just do?!"

"What?"

"In my head?!"

"If you describe it, I can do it again," he purred, licking his lips at me. I shivered and shook my head. 

'He read my damned mind,' I thought, biting my lip. 

"No I didn't." His voice again. In my head. 

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?!"

"THAT!"

"Stop shouting!" 

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" I yelled aloud, pushing fully away from him. 

"I'm not IN your head!" he bawled back, rolling his eyes at me this time. I held my knees. 

"Where's Mark?" I asked. "What did you do to him?"

"Well," Wilford muttered, standing from the bed. He moved to the small vanity table, fixed his hair in the mirror (allowing me a little time to shamefully appreciate his ass), and grabbed two silk robes. He threw one to me and put one on himself. On his chest, there was a monogrammed 'W' in calligraphic, and my initial on the front of mine. I tugged it around myself and waited for him to continue.