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Mark looked at the two hands on his wrist, one making a small tick as it moved to the next line. He’s been sitting on the top of your house for two minutes now. He never remembered being so nervous for something as small and simple as meeting you for a hangout. It would be everything you two had already done before, no doubt. So why did he feel so different?
Was it his feelings finally rising to the surface, refusing to be ignored? Or was it the evil that’s also been building up recently? Maybe a mix of both, he thought.
Tonight would be different. There was no escaping that. He needed to confess. He just wasn’t sure which confession would be better; the one where he admitted to wanting to kiss and fuck you, or the one where he admitted to wanting to leave the streets painted red? He couldn’t confess both. That would be too much for you.
He didn’t want to lose you, at least not yet. You were the one he grew up with and the only one who actually understood him (as much as anyone could, anyways). But at the same time, he couldn’t ignore the urge to absolutely kill everything in his path, including you. Actually, it was most of all, you. He knew you would look the best covered in your own blood, crying and begging for him to stop. You being at his total mercy was something he thought about often.
“Mark!”
His ears perked up at your familiar voice.
“I know you’re hiding somewhere. I can practically feel y— oh!”
Mark grinned, floating down gracefully from his spot to stand in front of you. “Sorry. I needed a breather before I had to face you.”
“And why’s that?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. For a second, your heart fluttered at the thought of Mark confessing his undying love for you, but you were quick to put that fire out.
“What do you mean why? Isn’t it obvious how annoying you are?” He brushed past you and headed inside your empty house. “Nobody would be able to stand you without at least taking a moment for themselves first.”
You rolled your eyes, your own smirk sneaking onto your face as you followed him in, closing the door behind you. You watched him head to the couch and immediately plop himself down like he just got back from a hard shift at the factory.
“Parents won’t be back until Tuesday morning. We should throw a party or something.” You sat next to him, eyeing him lazily.
Mark was kinda shocked your parents would be gone for so long. It was barely Saturday. He snorted at your suggestion of throwing a party. “We could if you had friends to invite.”
You hit him with a pillow. “At least I can trust my friends, Mr. Popular. I don’t have to worry about anyone backstabbing me with such a big circle.”
“Sounds like jealousy to me.” He grabbed the pillow from you and threw it aside. He wanted to laugh in your face about just how stupid you were, how naive, but he couldn’t give himself away just yet.
“Whatever, dude,” you stood up and headed to the kitchen, pulling multiple bottles from the coolers. “Guess we’ll just have to drink all of this alcohol ourselves!” You held one in the air to show him and caught an eager smile.
Mark got up to meet you and scan the selection. It wasn’t the cheapest stuff, but it also wasn’t top-shelf. Mediocre. It’ll get the job done, though. And it won’t taste like complete crap.
“You ever tried a black wine before?” You held up a bottle, “This shit will make you think you’re drinking juice. It’s so fucking good.”
He grabbed it from you to examine it, setting it back on the counter once he did. “Eh, not really my thing. You ever tried fruit punch with vodka? You’d probably like that since it’s fruity as hell.” His suggestion wasn’t entirely innocent. If he could get you to have mixed drinks over wine or beer, surely you’d pass out sooner and longer.
“Actually, I haven’t, but that does sound pretty good.” You opened your fridge and grabbed the juice, setting it up next to the vodka. “When do you wanna start drinking?”
“The sooner the better.”
XX
It was 10:00 now. The only light in your room was your shitty lamp that emanated a weak yellow glow. Throughout the night, the only drinks Mark had were a couple beers and maybe a few sips from your drinks. He wasn’t even tipsy, to say the least. The food you two ordered earlier combined with the spacing of drinks had kept him sober. Plus, he wasn’t entirely sure he could even get drunk considering the Viltrumite blood that ran through his veins.
You, on the other hand, were a drunken mess. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought you were an alcoholic. You were still going despite the fact that you could barely form coherent sentences and stand straight even with help.
“Mark—“ you sloshed— “can I tell you something?”
“Of course.” He looked over at you, but your eyes were half-lidded and kind of glazed over. You were completely leaned against him, almost trying to cuddle him. With how pathetic you looked, it was getting harder not to completely ravage you.
You bit your lip. “I kind of…I mean, you— you’re kind of—”
He cut you off. “You know what? You should drink more. I feel like I’m more drunk than you right now.” He stood up from your bed, letting you fall over on the sheets. Before you could respond, Mark was out of the room and heading into the kitchen. He immediately grabbed the first things to catch his eye, that being a mix of red wine and vodka.
When he returned, it was as if you were getting ready to pass out. He was quick to set the drinks on your nightstand and grab you, forcing you to sit against your headboard as you fought the sleep trying to overtake you.
“Come onnn, don’t fall asleep on me yet! We’re just getting started.” He gently slapped your face, trying to get you up. The growing erection in his pants was beginning to become a problem.
“Mark,” you whined, trying to hold yourself up, “I think we’re done, I’m tired.”
He unscrewed the cap on the clear bottle of alcohol, the strong scent of it almost making him recoil. He grabbed your chin and leaned your head back, your hands weakly wrapping around his to try and push him away. “Weren’t you the one who invited me?” He asked, holding the liquor to your lips, but not yet tilting it.
“Y-Yeah, but—“
“But what? You can’t back down now. Come on, don’t be a bitch. Drink.”
When he started tilting the bottle, your mouth opened on instinct. The harsh liquid slid down your throat, burning the flesh and lighting a small furnace in your belly. You could barely feel the burn in your throat, despite how fast and how much it was coming down. Mark watched intensely as you struggled to swallow it, your face scrunching in slight disgust.
Finally, when you pulled your head back, he pulled back, too. Some of the vodka dribbled out the side of your mouth, Mark’s thumb coming up to wipe it off.
He held the bottle up to his eye level. You hadn’t even drank half of it yet. This was no good. “Are you feeling it yet?” He asked you.
“No, b-but—”
“Damn, guess you gotta drink more!” He tried leaning you back again by your chin, but you moved your face to the side, trying to avoid the nozzle of the bottle. Mark could feel a small amount of anger spark in his chest at your defiance. Who did you think you were? “(Name), stop it. Don’t make me force you.”
You hiccuped, face and hands going numb from the alcohol. “Mark, please,” you begged.
“Please more? Is that what you’re trying to say?” He switched gears and grabbed your cheeks in one hand, puckering your lips and shoving the opening of the bottle in your mouth. He tilted it, the liquid sliding down your throat again. “There you go. See, you’re taking it so well!”
Fighting back wasn’t an option in your state. You could barely keep your eyes open and your hands up. Even your mind couldn’t keep up.
“Such a good girl,” Mark cooed. Once the bottle was finally done and you successfully drank it all, he pulled it out of your mouth and set it aside. “Don’t you feel good?” He let go of your cheeks and instead held your face in his palms, smiling down at you.
You whined. That was all you really could do, anyway. “F-Feel like ‘m gonna throw up,” you slurred.
He rolled his eyes. “No, you’re fine. Keep it down or I’ll make you drink your own vomit, too.”
You really didn’t like the sound of that. But, even with you expressing your nausea, Mark eagerly popped open the bottle of wine that was sat on the stand. A sweet, red wine.
“Noooo!” You turned your head away. “‘M really gonna th-throw up!” You hiccuped.
He sighed, annoyed. “Just one more bottle. We’ll be on the same playing field after you finish this.”
You hesitantly opened your mouth, waiting for the bottle to meet you. Mark was quick to put it in, the sugary drink going down easier than the vodka. He watched the lump in your throat bob up and down with each swallow, your hands digging into the bedsheets to curl into them for stability. You were as cute as you were pitiful.
The wine bottle finished much faster. He set it aside, one hand on your shoulder to try and keep you upright. You were finally beginning to fall over, eyes shut. You absolutely reeked of alcohol, but in a weird way, Mark found that quite hot.
He rolled you over onto your back and slapped your cheek, each one harsher than the last. You barely opened your eyes in response. He pulled open your eyelids and examined you, your gaze completely empty. You were awake, but not quite conscious.
“Finally.” He positioned himself between your legs before grabbing the fabric of your shirt and ripping it open, completely exposing your bare chest. No bra? How cheeky, he thought. “I knew you were kind of a slut, but shit. This is kinda sad. You know, if you wanted to fuck so bad you could have told me sooner.” His hands reached for your tits and squeezed, the flesh soft. This was way better than his imagination.
Despite being unconscious, your nipples perked in response to his touch. Mark couldn’t resist wrapping his mouth around one, tongue swirling around the bud as he sucked harshly. He moved from spot to spot, leaving behind dark hickeys. He wondered if you’d like them, or if you’d be completely grossed out come morning. He couldn’t wait.
He could feel his cock throb against the confines of his pants. You were completely helpless and dependent on him, yet he was taking full advantage of you. Part of him wished he had kept you up, but only because he wanted to hear you cry and scream when he fucked you.
His hands made quick work of his bottoms. He pulled them down and let his dick spring free, precum already leaking from the tip. He pulled yours off, too, making sure to leave your panties intact so he can keep them. He couldn’t help but put a thumb to your clit, circling and rubbing it up and down. Much to his surprise, your body responded. You were quite wet.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he grinned, pulling your panties to the side just enough to expose you. “You got a real nice pussy, you know that, (Name)?”
No response from you, only a small twitch of your muscles. Mark snaked a hand around your neck, gripping firmly. “I could just kill you right now and you wouldn’t be able to do shit about it. It’s a shame I kinda want to keep you alive.” He positioned his cock over your entrance before pushing inside, your pussy warm and inviting. He grunted from the sensation, tightening his grip on your throat.
You let out a small croak once he entered you, the light of the room fading in and out. You tried to signal your muscles to move, but nothing came of it and you were quick to give up, surrendering to the pull of the alcohol.
“Fuck,” he groaned, hips snapping back and forth as he fucked you. “I should have done this much sooner.” The way your pussy clenched around his shaft was as blissful as it was erotic. Even unconscious, your body craved dick, he thought. He could make the perfect sex doll out of you.
The only sound that filled the room was the squelching of his dick inside you and his occasional grunt of pleasure. Once in a while, you’d make some sound or try to form a sentence, but Mark would always put a stop to it by squeezing your throat shut.
“Damn babe,” he laughed, “you really got me hooked. I could do this forever.” He panted, his free hand grabbing your hip with a force strong enough to bruise.
Mark’s mind began to wander. For a bit of time now, thoughts of conquering the universe not only sounded great, but possible. He would be a god, someone, or rather something, that everyone would be scared of. Even the thought would make them tremble. But, even in that scenario, he couldn’t completely erase you. His mom and dad were out of the picture entirely, but you? Absolutely not. You’d be the only one he’d keep. You would be a slave. He would start by making you watch him kill the ones you love to raping you over and over again. Soon, you’d have no choice but to love him since he’d be the only one alive. Once you were completely broken, only then would he kill you. Maybe.
He bit the side of his lip, a droplet of sweat sliding down the side of his forehead. His cock slid in and out of your cunt with ease, the sweat and precum providing enough lube to make it so easy. It felt like you were made for him. You may as well already be his, he thought.
Mark felt his cock twitch when he took one last look at your drunken face. His hips started to lose rhythm and his groans more deep. He pictured you crying and begging him not to cum inside of you, permanently marking you. Both of his hands grabbed your throat, his body covering you completely as he leaned over to get close in your face. He squeezed as hard as he could without killing you, watching the way your body unconsciously fought back, albeit weakly. Humans were so weak.
Finally, hot, thick ropes of cum sprayed the inside of your walls as Mark rode out his orgasm. You faintly coughed and sputtered, eyes still closed as your body fought to get some air. He grinned, holding on for just one more second before finally letting you go. Beautiful red marks covered your neck, a sign of more bruising to come.
“Fuck,” he exhaled, “you were really good. Probably would have been better if you fought back a bit, but that’s okay. You’ll do that later, won’t you?” He slapped your cheek. No reaction.
He pulled out and wiped himself off on you, leaving you on the bed as a ruined mess. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and realize the horrors that took place tonight. After that, it was a question of whether or not you’d do something. Mark was eager to see your reaction.
Whatever it was, it certainly wouldn’t stop him from doing this again.