#마크이

[keehomania]

Girl I've read ur recent work and u write for mark soooo well omds likeee 😫😫 LIKE SOME OF THEM REALLY GOT ME LIKE DAYUMMM THAT HAPPENED?? but anyways, may I please req a mark smut oneshot but he's hitting it from the back infront of the mirror 🫶 oddly specific but ykkk 🤭💗

PRACTICE — MARK LEE (마크아) (DRABBLE)

✧°, 18+

the rhythm of the music pulsed through you, each beat sending a ripple of energy that moved your body like an extension of the sound itself. every click, every snap, every bend of your joints matched the tempo flawlessly. you moved effortlessly, gliding through the practice room as if the floor was an ocean and you, the tide, crashing and retreating with perfect fluidity. your legs carried you across the glossy surface, only for you to slide down with your hips, feeling the friction against the ground as if the music itself was guiding you lower, pulling you into the depths of your own expression.

this was how you preferred it. alone, without the prying eyes of an audience, no need for applause or recognition. just you, the music, and the space to let it all pour out, unfiltered. in these moments, you felt free — more so than anywhere else. every emotion, every thought, channeled through your body as it moved to the rhythm that only you could hear. but peace never lasted forever.

your ears caught a sound—a click that didn’t belong to the music. it was subtle, but it jarred your senses, breaking the delicate trance you had been in. you didn’t need to turn around to know what it was. your eyes shifted upwards, catching the reflection in the wide mirror that lined the walls. there he was. leaning against the doorframe, his figure half-shadowed by the dim light filtering through the hall. his eyes were locked onto you, dark and intense, watching your every move as if he had been there for a while. how long had he been standing there? the thought sent a wave of heat to your cheeks, and not from the workout.

rising from the floor, you felt a sudden rush of embarrassment flood your chest, your breath still heavy from exertion. you hadn’t expected an audience, especially not your boyfriend. the vulnerability of being caught in such a raw, unguarded state sent a shiver down your spine. “you should try knocking,” you joked, your voice trembling with a nervous laugh as you tugged at the hem of your shorts, adjusting them in a futile attempt to regain composure. but mark didn’t respond, didn’t even crack a smile. his gaze remained steady, a quiet hunger in his eyes, the kind you’d never seen before. it wasn’t just admiration—it was something deeper, something that sent your heartbeat skittering beneath your ribcage.

“mark?” you called, hoping to snap him out of whatever trance he seemed to be in. but again, silence. he pushed off the doorframe and started towards you, his movements slow, deliberate, the air between you charged with an intensity that made your skin prickle. had he been disappointed? did he expect more? the doubt clawed at the edges of your mind, but the way he was looking at you told a different story. his silence wasn't disdain—it was something else entirely. he closed the distance between you with a quiet, predatory grace, his eyes roaming over your flushed skin, taking in the way your shorts clung low on your hips, exposing the hem of your panties, how your shirt stuck to your sweat-slicked skin.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding louder than the dying music in the background. “please, say something,” you tried again, your voice soft, almost pleading. but before you could finish, he was there, just inches away, his presence overwhelming, his gaze smoldering. it silenced you, that look. a heat bloomed across your skin, his nearness amplifying the tension between you.

“you did so good,” he murmured, his voice a low, sultry purr that sent a tremor down your spine. his fingertips grazed your cheek, tucking away the damp strands of hair that clung to your face, his touch light, but charged with unspoken intent. you tried to laugh it off, even as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered uncontrollably. “nothing special,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just practice.”

his eyes darkened at that, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. he hated when you said things like that, hated how blind you were to your own brilliance. “have you seen yourself?” he asked, his tone sharp, though not unkind. the mirrors surrounded you, reflecting every angle, but somehow, you always seemed oblivious to what he saw. what everyone saw. you blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his stare, his words echoing in your mind. prove it? what did he mean by that? the question lingered in the air between you, heavy and unanswered, until it was replaced by something else—something far more tangible.

your knees gave way before you could even process what was happening, your body responding to the soft, unexpected pressure of his lips on yours. it was sudden, startling even, but the moment his mouth touched yours, all your questions dissolved into nothing. you knew better than to resist, better than to pull away. mark had always had this effect on you—the ability to unravel you, to strip away the composure you wore like armor, leaving you exposed in a way that was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

his lips moved against yours with a practiced ease, a perfect synchronization that felt almost too natural, too right. He tasted you slowly, deliberately, savoring the salt of your sweat, the rawness of the moment. and that’s how he liked you — raw. no filters, no performances, no masks. you didn’t have to pretend around him, didn’t have to put on a show like you did for the others. for mark, you were enough just like this, messy, sweaty, stripped of all pretense. that’s when he wanted you most—when you were vulnerable, laid bare to your very core.

the aftershocks of your embarrassment still pulsed through you, a hum of unease that made your heart race. but he thrived on that, thrived on seeing you in this state. his fingers brushed your jaw, the touch gentle, almost soothing, but there was something darker beneath it. something that made your stomach flip, a wave of heat crashing over you as his lips moved with more urgency, his tongue pressing insistently at your lower lip. it wasn’t a request—it was a demand. a demand you surrendered to without hesitation, parting your lips for him, giving him what he wanted. he devoured you.

the kiss deepened, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, slow and deliberate. you felt his warmth, his breath mixing with yours as his hand tilted your chin up, angling you just how he wanted. your knees threatened to buckle again as his tongue slid over your teeth, tangling with yours, coaxing a soft gasp from your lips. the sound only seemed to spur him on, his movements growing bolder, more possessive, as if he wanted to claim every part of you.

you let him. you let him take what he needed, let him devour you in the way only he knew how. saliva pooled between your lips, spilling out in messy streams as he finally pulled away, breathless and satisfied, a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. his thumb brushed the corner of your lips, wiping away the remnants of your shared kiss, his eyes dark and heavy with want. “you have no idea what you do to me, do you?” he murmured, his voice low, thick with desire.

of course, you knew. anyone would know. you didn’t have to hear it to understand the effect you had on him. it was clear, undeniable, from the way his body responded to yours, the way his breath hitched and his hands lingered, unwilling to let go. you felt it, too—the hard press of his dick against your bare thigh, showibg just how much power you held over him. even though he was clothed, you could feel him, feel the subtle way he rutted against you, seeking some kind of relief. it was subtle, but not enough to escape your notice. you never missed a beat—not when you danced, and certainly not now.

his hand traveled down your neck, tracing the line of your collarbone before dipping into the neckline of your shirt. his touch was feather-light, teasing, and it had you squirming. his thumb brushed against the swell of your breast, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. “what are you playing at, mark?” you whispered, the words thick and heavy with anticipation. you knew what he wanted—what he always wanted—but you liked hearing him say it. you liked the power that came with making him admit it.

mark’s smirk grew, his eyes gleaming in the soft light. “i wanna watch you cum,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very air around you. it was so blunt, so raw, that it stole your breath away. your cheeks flushed, and you felt the heat pool between your legs, your body already responding to his words. “want you to watch yourself cum,” he continued, his hand cupping your breast fully, squeezing it gently. “want you to see what i do to you, what only i can do to you.” his hand never left your tits, even as he flipped you over. it didn’t take much manpower to turn you onto your knees, your eyes now locked on your fucked-out reflection.

you whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut as his thumb circled your hardened nipple. his other hand slid down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts, hinting at what was to come. the thought was overwhelming, but you didn’t dare stop him. instead, you leaned into his touch, letting his fingers play with the sensitive peak, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until you couldn’t take it anymore. “yeah,” you breathed, your voice shaky. “yeah, i want that, too.”

his hand slid lower, his fingertips dancing over the fabric of your panties, feeling the wetness that had soaked through. the pressure grew, the anticipation a coil tightening in your belly. and when he finally dipped his fingers beneath the elastic, touching you, you thought you might shatter right then and there. his touch was electric, sending sparks shooting through your body as he began to stroke your clit, slow and methodical. “keep your eyes open,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “i wanna see your face when you come for me, baby. i wanna see every second of it, every twitch, every drop i coax out of you.”

his voice was a command, and your body obeyed. your eyes snapped open, meeting his in the mirror. his gaze was unwavering, a promise of what was to come, and you couldn’t look away. you watched as he worked you, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm that had you gasping for air, your thighs trembling as they slid past your sticky folds. you felt the heat building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment. and when it did, it was like nothing you had ever felt before.

you threw your head back, a silent scream escaping your lips as the orgasm washed over you, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure that seemed to drench every nerve ending. your body arched, your back bowing, as he continued to work you through it, his strokes never faltering. you felt your muscles clench around his fingers, desperate for more, even as your legs gave out and you collapsed against him. he held you up, his hands steady, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. he was needy, desperate for the way your swollen lips parted for him, the way your eyes glazed with tears at the feeling of his mere fingers fucking you open for him.

his touch was like fire, searing and intense, leaving no part of you untouched. your chest heaved with every breath, your eyes wide with shock and desire. and there you were, in the reflection, a picture of pure carnality—messy, wanton, and utterly exposed. your cheeks burned with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment, but the thrill of it only served to make the moment more potent.

mark’s hand slid from your jaw, leaving it to hang slack as he stepped away from you, his eyes still glued to your reflection. your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breaths shallow and uneven as you watched him move behind you. you felt the cool air kiss your skin as he slid your panties down your legs, your knees shaking as they made contact with the floor. the sensation of being so bare, so open, was almost too much to handle.

his breath was hot against the back of your neck as he whispered, “now, watch me fuck you. i want you to see just how much i own you, how much you crave this, how much you need me to fill you up and make you scream my name. don’t look away, baby. not even for a second. this is just for us.” and with that, he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock nudging against your wetness. your eyes remained locked on the mirror as he pushed inside you, inch by inch, filling you to the brim.

you watched as his muscles tensed, his face a mask of concentration and desire. his eyes never left yours in the reflection, holding you captive with a gaze that seemed to strip away every last shred of your modesty. the sensation was almost too much to handle—his cock stretching you open, the sound of your wetness, the feeling of his hands digging into your hips as he pulled you back onto him, harder, deeper. your eyes glazed over, the world around you narrowing to just the two of you and the rhythm of your bodies moving in perfect harmony.

his thrusts grew more forceful, his hips slapping against your ass with a steady, punishing beat that had you gasping for air. your palms were flat on the mirror, slick with sweat, your body trembling with each impact. your cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, your mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure. you could feel another orgasm building, the pressure building like a storm in your core. his hands spread your ass apart, his thumb digging into the tight hole as he leaned over to spit. his thumb spread his spit all over your clenching hole as he eased it into you, but his eyes never left the mirror. your eyes searched his in the mirror, pleading for relief, for the sweet release that hovered just out of reach as the sting from your ass being coaxed open mingled with the pleasure of him splitting your pussy in half.

mark’s grip tightened on your hips, his movements growing more erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants. “you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice strained with effort. “so wet, so perfect for me. tell me how much you love it, baby. tell me how much you want me to fill you up, to make you cry.” his words were a dark symphony, a sweet torment that had your body singing in response. you felt your voice crack as you whispered, “yes, yes, i love it, i need it, please don’t stop, mark, please—”

his eyes never left yours, the intensity in them making your knees wobble. he leaned down, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he murmured, “you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you? just like a good girl. i wanna feel it, wanna see it in those pretty eyes of yours. cum for me, baby, come on.” with the tip of his throbbing cock inside you, it was too much to resist. the coil of pleasure grew tighter, your muscles clenching around him, your body begging for more.

you watched in the mirror as he picked up the pace, his strokes growing deeper, more deliberate. every thrust sent a shock of pleasure through you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the palms of your hands. your breasts bounced with the force of his movements, your nipples hard and sensitive. mark’s hand slid around your body, his fingers finding your clit, playing with the sensitive bundle of nerves mercilessly as he drove into you from behind, hips snapping against your the flesh of your ass, every movement catching light in the mirror.

you bit your lip to keep from crying out, the need to watch him fuck you too strong to break eye contact. your cheeks were stained with a deep blush, your eyes wide with lust and a hint of desperation. your breath came in pants, hitching in your throat with every thrust. his hand on your jaw was a constant reminder of his control, his dominance, and it only served to fuel the fire building inside you.

suddenly, the dam broke, and you were cumming, hard, the orgasm ripping through you like a wildfire. your eyes squeezed shut despite your best efforts, your body convulsing with pleasure as he pounded into you. you felt his grip tighten, his own release following close behind. the sound of his grunt, the feel of his hot breath on your neck, sent shivers down your spine. when he was finished, he pulled out slowly, the wet squelch of his sticky cum making you whine.

his hand remained on your jaw, keeping your head tilted up, your eyes on the mirror. he stepped back, letting you collapse onto the floor, your legs giving out beneath you. you were a mess—sweat-drenched, hair a tangled mess, and your makeup smeared. but in that moment, you had never felt more beautiful, more wanted, more alive.

✧

a/n: thank you for requesting, u seem like such a sweetheart! i hope this was okay!!

[anyacomplex]

360 X JOPPING

[luvyeni]

⠀ ( drabble ) baby fever ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 마크이 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ finally confronting mark about his baby fever  ヾ

boyfriend!mark・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ ‎ unprotected sex , ‎breeding kink , dirty talk ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.5k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. hi you have the vision baby, mark has baby fever fic please, pretty please 🥺🥺 & since you're taking requests, maybe something with nct dream? or even just mark, my ult bias original husband loml..........

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you don't mind i combined them , also happy birthday or belated birthday cause you didn't specify which day it was 🫶🏽.

you seen the signs; the lingering looks at baby clothes in stores; the smiling lovingly at the kids you'd pass playing on the playground, liking the celebrity children photos when he truly never cared before — but that wasn't it , he began to rub your stomach, whether he noticed or not you didn't know , but you did know one thing and you really didn't need a confirmation , but you wanted one anyway.

“you wanna have baby?” the boy was stunned. “h-huh?” you smiled , climbing into his lap on the couch. “what are you talking about?” he asked , coughing nervously. “i've watched you for the past few weeks, and unless your brother is having a baby, i think you want a baby.”

“i-im sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.” he stuttered. “you could've told me though.” you said, kissing his neck. “it is me you want to have a baby with right?” he nodded. “of course baby, who else would i want to have a baby with?” he took control, flipping you over so you were on your back. “mark.”

“i want nothing more than to fuck you until you're pregnant with my baby.” his lips were on yours, you moaned out his name. “m-mark i'm still on birth control.” you laughed, tugging at his hair , he looked at you with want in his eyes. “doesn't mean we can't practice right?” he said, pulling down your pants. “i can still fuck you raw right now.’

he wasted no time pushing his hard cock into your waiting hole; you giving him the go to fuck you raw made him hard. “fuck you're so tight baby.” he began to thrust into you. “so fucking warm.” he moaned , holding your hand above your head. “ma-mark please.” you whined. “de-deeper please.” panting above you , his cock stretching you out deliciously. “you like my cock baby?” he cursed. “gonna let me fuck a baby inside you?” you nodded. “pl-please.”

“fu-fuck you'll look so cute with my baby.” he began to pound into you faster. “all pregnant and swollen because of me.” he released your hands , allowing you to run your hands up his shirt , scratching his back. “sh-shit baby.” he hissed. “gonna fill you up real good.” he whispered into your ear. “gonna flood your pussy with my cum.”

your legs were wrapped around his waist , he kept pounding into you. “ma-mark im gonna cum.” you moaned. “yeah?” he grunted. “cum for me baby, cum all over my dick.” he moaned as you tightened around him , mouth dropping over as you came , he cursed. “sh-shit im gonna cum.” he moaned , his thrust faltering before you could feel his warm sticky cum shooting deeply into your womb. “fu-fuck baby that's it , take my cum.”

he slowly stops his thrust; keeping you plugged with his cum. “fuck i love you so much.” he kissed your lips. “so so much baby.” he pulled out of you , him cum leaking from your hole. “sh-shit i wish you weren't on your birth control.” you laughed. “you really want a baby that bad?” he nodded. “so fucking bad.” he groaned.

“gonna keep fucking you until you're for sure pregnant with my baby.”

©LUVYENI

[sugruzt]

❝ message in a bottle ; 마크이

𖥻 pairing: college!mark lee x female reader

𖥻 contains: college!au, fluff, slight angst, second chance romance

𖥻 warnings: swearing, marijuana & alcohol consumption / english is not my first language and this is my first work ever on tumblr so i am sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspellings

word count — 4.06k

synopsis — you and mark were in a situationship for a few months before things ended poorly when you got too scared of your feelings and he had to leave the country for an exchange program in london. now, six months later, you were at a party with your friends and discovered mark was back in town.

🎀

AND just like that, your whole world stopped spinning for a long and torturous minute. in the blink of an eye, you went from being over-the-moon excited — and slightly intoxicated — with the idea of partying with your friends during the first summer night before heading to your hometown in the next couple of days to being paralyzed, feeling all your blood get drained far away from where it should be in your body. in the blink of an eye, you went from being a happy girl with the arrival of the last member of your friend group to someone terrified with the sight of a ghost from the past. a quick glance, unintended by all means, in mark’s direction was all it took for the memories from that previous year to come flooding back to hit you like a lost train.

“hey, princess,” he said. his cheeks burning in a shade of shameful red, but something stronger than him was preventing his stare from going anywhere else other than your eyes. there was a blunt hanging between his teeth. “how you doing?”

“that’s it, guys; i’m done with this. i’m just gonna change my major or something like that! everything’s going terribly wrong, and i can’t keep torturing myself by studying this shit.”

you dropped your head and rested your forehead on your arm that lay on top of the desk in front of you right as the confession slipped from your lips like a dangerous poison that you should not have taken. it was the first time you’d ever said it out loud to someone else to hear — other than the mischievous voice inside your head — how you truly felt about the english major you were pursuing. the fear of judgment and of being too hasty about this decision was corroding every last bit of your emotional health, and because of it, you could sense that a storm was coming. what if you did change majors and ended up not adapting? how would you find a job, or better yet: how would you support living all by yourself if you couldn’t even pick an undergraduate academic path? time was running out, and the unbearable clock inside your mind wouldn’t give you a break. the tick-tacking of the goddamn thing was going to drive you to insanity at any point soon.

“hey, chill for once, okay? it’s normal to feel like that and to want something new. hell, i know i had to change my major twice before finding out what i actually wanted to do. jae did the same thing. you’re not alone.” jeno offered you a small yet reassuring smile of someone who didn’t quite know what to say but still wanted to see his friend more relaxed.

“exactly! take a deep breath and think things through with an easy heart. if you need help, we’re here to help

you." swallowing the last bite of the sandwich he had bought earlier, renjun tapped the notebook in front of him. “how’s that linguistics project going?”

as you raised your head, you shook your head in a negative sign. “i mean, it’s good. too good, actually… and that’s sort of the problem. like, the dude i’m working with is super sweet and really fucking good at this class and so he’s kind of doing the whole thing by himself and dragging me along with him ever since we started. i feel terrible, even if he says it’s all good and stuff, but it is what it is, i guess.”

before either of the guys could express any opinion about what was just said, a guy with freshly cut black hair — it was even possible to see the drawing of a spiderweb on the left side of his undercut —, earphones in and a large yankees shirt approached the desk, more specifically you, and offered you a genuine smile that wasn’t common to see between two colleagues who were only working on a school project together. the unknown man squatted so he could be at your height and unlocked his ipad’s screen to the word document the two of you were using to write notes together, or at least that was the initial idea because the reality was that mark was doing all of it alone, proudly.

“oh, hi, y/n, you good? just wanted to ask you a quick question… have you taken a look at this topic right here? i know we’re only supposed to work on it in two weeks but i was wondering if maybe you’ve come up with the same conclusion as me.”

feeling a thousand times more embarrassed than if a professor asked you to present a thirty-minute seminar alone in front of the whole class, you felt the tip of your fingers getting cold and a thin droplet of sweat rolling down your temple. “uhm, hey, mark. yeah, about that… look, i didn’t really have a chance to look at that yet, i’m sorry. i can barely manage this week’s assignments, let alone two weeks from now. i- i’ll text you when i read it, okay?”

you didn’t know it at the time — or if you did, you had an enviable ability of discretion — but every single time mark heard his name escape from your heavenly drawn lips, his heart would skip a beat or two and he felt like he was about to combust at any second. it was the first time in his whole life that he had ever felt that way about someone and dealing with feelings of that magnitude was both weird and extraordinary, which meant that the ravenette wasn’t completely aware of how to process them. mark’s solution for his overwhelming thoughts whenever you were around was to take charge of everything he could in that project, to make you feel relaxed about that one particular class. the canadian was terrible at linguistics, for his skills were much more reliable during literature classes: he could interpret and internalize poetry from the eighteenth century like it was nothing, and plays written in latin during the roman empire were of natural understanding for him; and yet, ever since the first day of that semester in which it was requested that both of you joined efforts to build the complicated assignment, it was impossible for mark to not pull all-nighters reading texts and more texts, watching one video class after another that broke down the subject of that class just so he could give his absolute best when the time came to work alongside you and you didn’t find him an idiot, as most people in that university usually did after meeting him for the first time.

mark just wanted to impress you and the last thing he could be worried about was doing all that alone, as long as it meant that he could still have the minimum interaction with you.

“yeah, sure, that’s cool. if you need anything let me know, alright?”

you were still in a state of complete shock. no words would come out of your mouth, making it impossible to answer properly the question directed at you by the boy that a year before was the reason for many sleepless nights and therapy sessions, through no fault of his, which was even worse, because mark was perfect and you hated yourself for how everything ended.

a cold breeze, too cold for a summer night, hit the both of you with enough strength to make you shiver and it was only then that you realized that none of your friends were around anymore. you were alone again with mark for what had felt like a lifetime since he left the country for an exchange program in london and with enough unspoken words to make the whole situation a million times more uncomfortable than it needed to be. what were you supposed to say right now? “oh, hi, mark, long time no see! listen, i’m really sorry for being horrible to you last year, i’ve spent the last six months torturing myself because i only woke up to the fact that i had let the perfect guy for me get away too late to try and fix everything”? you ran your fingers through your hair, knowing that there were no words of your knowledge that could make it easier, that could put together again the pieces of what had once been something magical that the two of them were building.

you couldn’t care less about all those times your therapist tried to be kinder to your heart than you had ever been, or how your friends always tried to distract your mind from the constant haunt of self-collection and, to be honest, didn’t really mind that yes, after all the effort and studying, you had managed to change your major to something you actually enjoyed if the price for it was to drop the perfect crystal piece that was mark’s precious heart. there were no words that could take that back, and going against every piece of advice that was given to you, you had imagined more times than you’d like to admit how this encounter would play out: what you would do, what you would say or not say, how it’d feel… but none of those scenarios inside your mind was anywhere near to the real sensation of being in front of him again.

mark looked taller — or maybe it was just the feeling of missing him crushing your soul and clouding your judgment —, the slim body now gave way to the body of a man who went to the gym and tried to truly take care of his health, his hair that previously used to be as dark as the t-shirts he used to enjoy wearing was now covered in a shade of red so bright that it reminded you of his favorite superhero’s suit. even still, the one thing that caught your attention the most were his eyes. before mark left, before the whole chaos, they were always big and full of life, like those of a curious cub and you could always feel a cozy warmth travel across your body when mark looked at you with such brightness; however, it seemed that ever since the canadian got back in town, they were opaque, closed off to the outer world as if his eyes were now carrying some kind of intense melancholy behind them. the familiar redness in his sclerae, months ago, used to always be accompanied by an excited and smiling version of mark lee, but that night the only thing apparent to you was that lee was holding on to weed like some kind of way to numb the break-up pain.

the redhead had lived a thousand different lives during his exchange: saw and learned things that he knew he would never have achieved if he hadn't accepted the opportunity to go to england and yet, his mind couldn’t recall any of those experiences with the genuine happiness he should’ve felt like any other normal and grateful person would if they were on his shoes; to mark, ever since you left him all alone, he had turned into nothing but an empty shell of what should’ve been the real mark lee. what were his experiences, his learnings, his funny stories if, at any moment, he was allowed to at least call the person he loved and share all of that with her?

“yeah, i guess i’m okay.” you answered, holding back a cry that was stuck in your throat before looking away. “you?”

a shiver went down the english student as he waited for his project partner to arrive at the coffee shop you two had agreed to meet at to finish for good the agonizing linguistics document. it didn’t even seem real that you were finally concluding the most stressful and endless project of your university career until that moment and despite the sweet taste of reaching the finish line, mark had on his lips a bitter one, because he knew that the very instant you pressed “send” on the body of that e-mail to your professor, all of his excuses to talk to you would come to an end. it was only the beginning of november, you should spend at least a few more weeks studying together if said professor were to follow a normal academic calendar like the rest of his fellow colleagues of the department.

mark would only have one last chance of making this work out and that chance was right there and then. anxiety and fear were destroying the boy with more strength than he himself was biting through his nails waiting for you to arrive.

“gosh, mark, i’m so sorry!” you said in a panting tone when you finally managed to get to the coffee shop and met the guy that, by that point, had already become your friend. “the bus took forever to get to the stop i needed and then the subway was also chaotic… anyways, i’m sorry that i’m late.”

the both of you stayed a long time in that coffee shop, not only finishing the assignment but also laughing together and watching a few episodes of modern family on his computer as a way to relax after all the constant flow of negative emotions the both of you were facing during that semester due to not only that particular class but also all the other ones with their enormous reading load. by the time you had indeed finished what you were supposed to do, you were feeling so comfortable in mark’s presence that you didn’t even notice when you heart started to race faster and faster before the mundane things the lee did: the way he smiled from ear to ear, or how kind he was to everyone around him. you were starting to fall in love with how mark explained all the different concepts he used to build his arguments across the paper like someone would explain the most basic things to a child, and you thought it was sweet the way he would say “dude” and “no way” every couple of sentences that fell from his lips. but, above all, unconsciously, the way mark seemed to glow every time he looked at you was ethereal to your eyes.

as soon as you sent the hated file, it started to rain on the outside of the coffee shop, but contrary to the ideal scenario, you couldn’t stay in there just waiting until the climate conditions became more favorable because the two of you had places to be at, on opposite directions. there would be no other alternative but to run to the nearest subway station, or in the brunette’s case, the bus stop.

mark immediately took off his hoodie to shield you as best as he could from the rain, in exchange for you protecting his backpack that contained his computer as if your life depended on it, the moment you two stepped outside the establishment and something of a thunderstorm was taking over the avenue. mark couldn’t help it and ended up laughing at the situation you two had found yourselves in, thinking about how he wished he was a little less broke and had a car to take the girl of his dreams back to her place without having to worry about the rain, or how he wished he was stronger to pick you up and carry you to the subway station and, with that, spare your shoes from coming in contact with the soaked surface of the sidewalk. before you could notice, you were right in front of the stairs that led to the station.

“bye, i think.” you said, giggling along with him while you tried to fix your hair that, despite mark’s hoodie’s protection, still got wet from the rain.

the lee was going to answer you like a decent and proper person, he really was, but in that very moment, a raindrop fell from the marquee above you and somehow managed to hit you right on the forehead, which made you close your eyes, but mark kept his wide open. with an automatic reaction of his body, almost like an involuntary movement that he was incapable of controlling — such as the beats of his accelerated heart — his left hand traveled to your neck while his right thumb was busy drying the solitary raindrop slowly, to give his mind time to analyze every little inch of your face so close to his. mark tried to respond with words to your farewell, but his impulse to kiss you was far stronger than any cohesive phrase that his brain could formulate in that moment.

the literature student, now in his final semester, nodded as he bit his lower lip and those opaque eyes fell to the floor beneath his feet after stepping on the remaining of his blunt. mark didn’t even know why he started that conversation in the first place, it was obvious that it was impossible for him to stand close to you without it affecting some part of him — whether for good or for bad — and even still, there he was, not managing to say a single word to you, nor being able to get closer, just feeding that giant gray and terrifying cloud that grew over both of your heads due to the impasse of what this was and what it should have been.

unlike his mind, that was only able to repeat tirelessly the day he finally built the confidence to kiss you, yours was in a hurricane of terrible memories that involved the brief, yet intense, relationship you two shared — or whatever the hell one could call it. how was it even possible that something that lasted only four months could leave such deep scars?

if mark was trying to hold back a smile remembering how it felt to have your lips on top of his, you were only torturing yourself with the replayed image of mark being crushed in front of you, by no fault other than your own. it was your fault that fear was allowed to consume every single good thing that the lee had ever given you; it was your fault that you’d thought that whole thing was a sick and sadistic joke from the universe and that, in reality, there was no way someone like him could've ever fallen in love with you. in the deepest, darkest, cruelest part of your soul, you were convinced that everything was your fault and not your mind trying to destroy you before something so pure and happy.

you were a sinking ship, navigating towards a port with not a single sight of a lighthouse’s spark to help you, not knowing how to reach the treasure that awaited your arrival because other people had already destroyed the lighthouse. the ability to grope around, trying to find yourself in the darkness you’d placed yourself, was stripped away from you the second you gave in to the bruises that were caused by third parties, and mark knew it wasn't your fault, although it was still difficult to try and be the guide to someone that wouldn't allow them to have access to the heat and light from the fire he tried to offer.

without even realizing it, the silenced cry stuck in your throat for months on end started to escape, not giving you any power to control it. you felt anger, sadness, frustration and you were missing mark… all at the very same time, in an endless swirl triggered by the mere vision of having mark back into your reality.

just like the first time you kissed, the unconscious answer of mark lee’s body to the sound of you crying after such a long time being away from you was to wrap his arms around your body without allowing himself to give too much thought to the action that just took place. if it was even possible, noticing you needing him in any way, shape or form was a true calling for him and it didn't matter how much time could've gone by, the lee couldn't ignore it. to love you and protect you was just as natural as breathing.

between the supplications for your tears to stop and hair strokes, mark then began to feel something that he thought was dead coming back to life inside the hollow box that was his chest. for months now, the redhead just knew that his heart was no longer there. instead, it must've been put inside a bottle and thrown away into the ocean that separated his emotions from his rational mind, as if he wasn't even the owner of his own feelings.

“please, princess, don't cry. i’m begging you.”

the cruelty of your mind wouldn't give you a break for not even a single second ever since the last time you've heart mark’s melodious voice so close to your ear, and the fact that it carried the same heavy tone of request didn't help with your genuine desire to stop your sobbings as your face was pressed against his chest. in that moment, the last thing on your mind were the looks that other people could be directing at the two of you; you could only see the desperation all over the face of the only man you've ever truly loved. he was in such pain that day — the day you told him you didn't want to see him anymore. soon, though, that image was replaced with the memory of the gut-wrenching feeling of chronic emptiness that filled your chest the following week and you came to your senses that you had make a mistake, but that it was also too late: mark was in another country, it was far too late to ask for forgiveness.

“i know you probably hate me right now. i shouldn't have done that, i shouldn't have said that, i was such an idiot, stupid… i'm sorry, mark, i don't know what was going on in my mind to treat like that, i-”

that sobbing wouldn't allow you to form coherent sentences properly and the way you were crying so helplessly was becoming melancholic instead of just sad to the man holding you. if only mark could get into your merciless head just how he would never be able to hate you, not in a million years, not when there was so much love, desire and adoration intrinsic to the image he had of you, then maybe that big gray cloud would disappear forever and the two of you could just live like he hoped for. all mark wanted was to have the privilege of loving you again.

“y/n, look at me” mark held the red and tear wet face of his beloved girl with kindness while his tone of voice was filled with all the firmness the moment could ask for. “for christ’s sake, y/n, i love you. i could never hate you. dude, really, for once just keep your head out of this and focus on what i’m telling you right now. i love you and this whole time i was thinking of you. only you.”

even if he knew you wouldn't answer anything for a few seconds, or maybe even minutes, mark just allowed a sweet smile to appear on his lips while he delighted himself with the feeling of being allowed to hold your face once again, to stroke your cheeks and to place small, delicate kisses all over your beautiful face — which he knew would force your breathing to slow down, giving you the chance to calm down again. the canadian was smelling like the combination of weed and beer, but somehow, your body knew how to identify the familiar and characteristic smell of his cologne; the same smell your searched for and ached for during the coldest nights, when missing him was too overwhelming it almost felt like a hole was being digged up in your chest. that familiarity was the reason for the shy smile that took over your lips, that opened a breach for light and happiness after all those tears while mark traced your lips with his thumb, admiring you like you were some kind of artwork created just for him.

“i was made to stay just like this with you, princess. and i’m not leaving this time.”

[chenjiyaoi]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀마크이#1999 . ࣪ 🍵

[loserlvrss]

loserlvrss' www.nct ( 엔시티 ).com masterlist !!

reader's key : (f)luff (sm)ut (a)ngst (s)uggestive (c)omedy (p)latonic

lee taeyong 이태용

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© loserlvrss 2024 copying, translating & republishing are prohibited !

[the-marklee]

Benedict G. Elian.

ⓘ I'TS ALL ABOUT MY MUSE IN ROLEPLAYER.

Mark Lee from NCT is known as one of the most prominent members of the group. He is recognized for his versatile talent and significant contributions to the music and success of this renowned Korean group. According to quotes from nct-jp.net, this music group under SM Entertainment consists of multinational members from Japan, Korea, the United States, and Canada. The group is acclaimed worldwide for their exceptional talent and world-class music.

Here is some complete information about Mark Lee from NCT, who is loved by people all over the world:

Stage Name: Mark (마크)

Real Name: Mark Lee (마크이)

Korean Name: Lee Minhyung (이민형)

Date of Birth: August 2, 1999

Place of Birth: Vancouver, Canada

Nationality: Canadian

Position in NCT: Main Rapper, Vocalist, Dancer

Interesting facts about Mark Lee:

Multinational Background: Mark was born in Vancouver, Canada, and holds Canadian nationality. He is of Korean descent.

Early Start: Mark joined SM Entertainment in 2012 through the SM Global Audition in Vancouver.

Debut and Sub-units: Mark is a member of several NCT sub-units, including NCT U, NCT 127, and NCT Dream. He also participates in the SM Entertainment supergroup, SuperM.

Language Skills: Mark is fluent in both English and Korean, which helps him connect with a wide range of fans.

Musical Talent: Known for his exceptional rapping skills, Mark also contributes as a vocalist and dancer in NCT. He has participated in writing lyrics for many of the group's songs.

Hardworking Nature: Mark is known for his work ethic and dedication. Despite being involved in multiple units and projects, he consistently delivers high-quality performances.

Versatility: His versatile talent allows him to seamlessly fit into various concepts and styles, from powerful rap verses to smooth vocal lines.

Stage Presence: Mark is praised for his charismatic stage presence and energy, making him a standout performer in live shows.

Inspirational Figure: Mark is considered an inspiration to many aspiring artists due to his journey from trainee to a globally recognized star.

Creative Contributions: Beyond performing, Mark has shown his creative side by participating in the composition and lyric-writing process for NCT's music.

Friendly Personality: Mark is known for his friendly and approachable personality, making him well-liked by both fans and fellow group members.

Fashion Sense: He is also recognized for his stylish fashion sense, often seen in trendy and unique outfits.

︳Dream big, work hard, and never give up. The journey may be tough, but it's worth it. -Mark Lee

[shxxmarkbin]

credits. mk-purr

[ninklenn-blog]

마크 💖

[call-me-romi]

Do you think Johnny fed him sardines since he's a seagull? M A R K #neoculturetechnology #nct #nctu#nct127#nctdream#nct_u#nct_127#nct_dream#nct2018#nct2018_empathy #nctzen#nctzens #nctmark #mark#leemark#marklee #leeminhyung#minhyung #이마크#마크이 #엔시티즌 #엔시티#엔시티2018#엔시티유#엔시티일이칠#엔시티127#엔시티드림#이민형

[keehomania]

come back home (집에 돌아와) – mark lee (마크이)

✧ 16+

you never really knew what it meant to have a home. surely, the idea was simple enough: a place to shelter from the world, a structure that separated you from the cold or the rain. but to you, it was just that—a roof, four walls, something solid beneath your feet. maybe a chair here, a table there, if luck was on your side. if luck smiled, perhaps even a bed. It was the bare minimum, and you learned to make do with it. the word “home” had always felt hollow, devoid of warmth or comfort. your house, with all its peeling wallpaper and creaking floors, was just that—a house.

you existed there, your parents existed there, but it was never more than an intersection of lives that hardly touched. the screaming was normal, expected even. the cadence of their voices raising in anger, the crash of shattered glass, the dull thud of doors slamming shut—it became the rhythm of your childhood, a song you wished you could unhear. at first, when you were young, it terrified you. you were nine, maybe ten, the first time it truly sank in, and you clamped your hands over your ears, tears streaking your cheeks as you cried yourself to sleep. but at least there was a bed, you reminded yourself, even if the sheets were cold and the mattress hard. cold water had a knack for feeling warm when your hands were freezing.

you learned, over time, that cold water felt warm when your hands were freezing. you adapted, hardened yourself to the noise, the tension, the never-ending war waged between your parents. they never divorced. that, too, became part of the routine, the way they lived in the same house but on different planes of existence. they tolerated each other, and you? you tolerated it all.

at nineteen, you left. escaped, really. found yourself in a dingy apartment on the outskirts of hongdae, where the nights were quieter than you expected. so quiet, in fact, that you almost missed the screaming. almost. it never truly left, though. the echoes of their fights lived on in your mind, a constant ringing in the stillness of the night. even when the world outside was silent, the crickets long gone, it was there. but it didn’t faze you anymore. it had stopped fazing you a long time ago.

you met him when you were eighteen, just a few months shy of nineteen, and you couldn’t have known then how much someone could fill the spaces in your life where there had only been emptiness before. mark was funny in the kind of way that made you laugh before he even finished his jokes, like his sheer presence radiated joy. he was sweet in a way that wasn’t forced, his kindness so natural it felt like breathing. but it was his charm that hooked you from the very first glance—there was something about him that was magnetic, a pull you couldn’t resist. he was clumsy, a little ditzy, the kind of person who seemed to trip over his own feet yet laugh about it with the confidence of someone who made falling look graceful. you had sworn, more than once, that he must’ve been a blonde bimbo in a past life, the way he moved through the world with a carefree lightness.

you liked everything about him, even the quirks that might have annoyed anyone else. the way he laughed a little too loud, obnoxious but infectious. the way his fringe had fallen just so over his eyes when you met him, a mess of hair that he never quite bothered to fix. you liked the way he mixed his english and korean, as if his thoughts flowed too fast for just one language to handle. and then there was his scent—the sharp, musky warmth of sauvage that clung to his clothes, lingering in the air after he left like a memory you didn’t want to fade.

what you liked most, though, was how much he seemed to like you. it wasn’t just the way he looked at you or the way his voice softened when he said your name. it was the fact that he embraced everything about you, even the things you were sure no one else would. the first time he came over, your apartment was a mess—clothes strewn across the floor, dishes piled high in the sink, books and papers scattered like debris from a storm. but he didn’t flinch. he didn’t judge. instead, he smiled, wide and genuine, as if the clutter didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“you're way too nervous, dude,” he teased, his voice light and teasing as he stood in the doorway. “it’s adorable, shit, what should i do with you?”

you blushed, avoiding his gaze as his hand ruffled your hair, the touch gentle but enough to send a warmth rushing through you. you fumbled with the keys, your fingers shaking slightly as you unlocked the door. “try not to judge too hard,” you muttered under your breath, stepping inside with him trailing close behind. mark clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if to dismiss your worries. “i’m not judging, promise.”

the interior was as chaotic as you’d feared—blankets draped over the couch in a haphazard pile, magazines tossed onto the coffee table without a second thought. there was a plate from last night’s dinner still sitting on the counter, and you caught sight of a lone sock peeking out from under the tv stand. but mark didn’t seem to notice any of it, or if he did, he didn’t care. he walked in, looked around, and grinned. “feels cozy,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice made you believe it, just for a moment.

you both settled on the couch, sinking into the cushions as the quiet hum of the television filled the room. he suggested watching a movie, something light, something to fill the silence without demanding too much attention. but you weren’t really focused on the screen. your gaze kept drifting back to him—the way he sat with one arm slung lazily over the back of the couch, the other holding the remote, his eyes occasionally flicking towards you as if he could feel your stare.

it wasn’t long before he caught you. his lips quirked up into a playful smile, and he leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you. “you’re staring,” he whispered, voice teasing but low enough to send a shiver down your spine. “i wasn’t,” you protested weakly, but the blush on your cheeks gave you away.

he chuckled, the sound soft and comforting, before he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. his hand lingered for a moment, fingertips grazing your skin as his gaze dropped to your lips. and in that moment, the air between you seemed to shift, thickening with tension that neither of you wanted to break.

his lips met yours gently at first, testing, exploring. but the warmth of the kiss grew, deepening as his hand moved to cup your cheek, pulling you closer. the taste of him was intoxicating, the mix of his cologne and something inherently him filling your senses. when he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him.

“god, you taste even better than i imagined,” he murmured, his voice roughened by the kiss, a hint of something darker lingering beneath the surface. you blushed deeper, the heat from his words spreading through you like wildfire.

later, you found yourselves on the balcony, sharing a cigarette as the night air cooled the flush on your cheeks. the city lights flickered in the distance, casting a soft glow over the streets below. mark stood beside you, his arm casually draped around your shoulders, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as you both stared out into the quiet.

he took a drag from the cigarette, exhaling a slow, steady stream of smoke into the night before turning to you. his eyes were soft, but there was a determination in them you hadn’t seen before. “i’ll do anything to make you mine, you know that, right?” his voice was low, serious in a way that made your heart skip a beat. you looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. he meant every word.

your relationship with him unfolded like the slow bloom of a flower, delicate and sweet, each petal unfurling with every day you spent together. it was puppy love at its finest, the kind that made your heart flutter and your stomach twist into nervous knots. the kind of love that made the world seem softer, more forgiving.

your dates were simple, but they were everything. late-night walks through the city, hand in hand as the neon lights reflected off the wet pavement. you’d stop for street food, sharing rice cakes or steaming hot dumplings, laughing when the sauce dripped down your chin and mark wiped it away with a grin. he had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special. like the time he surprised you with a cup of coffee before your early shift at work, the note scribbled on the side of the cup in his messy handwriting—“thought you might need this. see you tonight, babe :)”

it wasn’t grand gestures that defined your relationship, but rather the small acts of care. the way he always carried your bag without you asking. the way he memorized your favorite takeout order and brought it over after a long day. or how he slipped love letters under your door, little notes scribbled on torn pieces of notebook paper, each one messier than the last, but filled with words that made your heart swell. “you make me feel like the luckiest guy alive. can’t believe i get to wake up every day knowing you’re mine.”

you kept every single one, tucked away in a drawer, rereading them when the nights felt too quiet. he was your safe space, your escape from the chaos that had been your life for so long. and slowly, you found yourself opening up to him in ways you hadn’t expected. one night, after a particularly rough day, you found yourself curled up in his lap, your face buried in the crook of his neck as you whispered the words you had kept locked away for so long.

“never really had a home,” you started, your voice barely audible over the hum of the city outside. “parents were always fighting. it was constant. screaming, throwing shit, doors slamming. they never got divorced, but they never really stayed together either. i guess i got used to it after a while. but it never stopped hurting.”

mark’s arms tightened around you, his fingers gently brushing through your hair as you spoke. you could feel the way his body tensed beneath you, as if he were absorbing your pain, taking it on as his own. for a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just held you close, his breath warm against your skin.

then, in a voice quieter than you had ever heard him use, he spoke. “my dad was the same,” he admitted, his words heavy with the weight of years of silence. “used to hit my mom. me too, sometimes. i don’t think i ever really forgave him for that. he cheated on her. over and over. i remember hearing them fight when i was a kid, and i’d just hide in my room, pretending it wasn’t happening. but you can’t really ignore that kind of thing forever, you know?”

you lifted your head, looking up at him, and for the first time, you saw a side of him you hadn’t seen before. his eyes were dark, shadowed with memories he had buried deep. his usual smile was gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “i’m so sorry,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as if savoring the warmth of your palm against his cheek.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, but you could hear the crack in his voice. “i mean, it’s not okay, but i don’t know. i guess i just got used to pretending it didn’t hurt.” and then, without warning, the tears came. first yours, then his. it was quiet at first, a few soft sniffles, but soon you were both crying, your tears mingling as you clung to each other. it wasn’t the kind of crying that came with sobs or broken words, but a deep, shared grief, the kind that had been bottled up for too long.

you cried for the pain you had endured, for the childhoods that had been stolen from both of you. you cried for the loneliness, the fear, the helplessness of watching the people you loved tear each other apart.

“i didn’t think i’d ever find someone who understood,” you whispered through your tears, your forehead pressed against his. “someone who just—gets it.” mark shook his head, his own tears spilling down his cheeks as he looked at you, eyes red-rimmed and glistening. "you don’t have to go through it alone anymore," he said softly, his voice breaking. “we’ve got each other now. i won’t let you go through that again. not ever.”

he had never seemed more fragile. the boy who always laughed too loudly, who joked about everything, who never took life too seriously—now, he was exposed, raw in his vulnerability, and it broke something in you to see him like this. but it also healed something too. in him, you saw a reflection of your own. every time he smiled at you, every time he touched your hand or kissed your forehead, it felt like a promise. a promise that you wouldn’t be alone anymore. and you believed him.

there’s that saying, the one everyone knows but no one really wants to admit the truth of. something about apples and trees. the apple never falls far, but when it does, it rots. months had passed, and he hadn’t changed. he was still the same sweetheart you met, the same boy who made you laugh at stupid jokes, who scribbled love notes and stuck them in your bag when you weren’t looking. the same boy who held you through the darkest moments and promised he’d never let you feel alone again. you clung to that.

but then, slowly, things started to shift. it was subtle at first, the kind of thing you told yourself not to overthink. his phone, which had always been an afterthought, suddenly seemed to light up more often. notifications during your dates, while you were watching tv, even when you were lying in bed together. each time, he would glance at the screen, the light reflecting in his eyes for a moment before he turned it off, flipping the phone over like it was nothing.

you didn’t want to be that person. the one who asked too many questions, who pried, who doubted. but the feeling gnawed at you, deep in your gut, a quiet ache that you couldn’t shake. “what’s the matter?” you’d asked him once, your voice soft, trying to keep it casual. mark had answered smoothly, barely blinking. “group chat being spammed.”

you believed him. you wanted to believe him. so you brushed it off. you convinced yourself that you were being paranoid, that the ache in your stomach was nothing more than insecurity. but then you caught a glimpse of something. a photo of some girl, just for a split second before the screen went dark again. “who’s that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even, trying not to sound clingy, desperate for him to say something that would calm the storm brewing inside you. “my cousin,” he said easily, his tone so calm it almost soothed the unease in your chest. “she’s coming to hongdae next week.”

you nodded, forcing a smile, swallowing the doubt that still lingered in the back of your throat. you brushed it off, again. but the ache had grown, twisting and knotting in your stomach, especially when you noticed something else. the scent of perfume. not his usual sauvage, that sharp, familiar musk that clung to his clothes. this was different. dainty. fruity. feminine. you didn’t say anything that night, even though it felt like a slap in the face, but you got no sleep. you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the smell of it taunting you, the ache now a full-blown pain, throbbing in your chest.

the final straw came one night when you were at his apartment. he was in the shower, the sound of the water echoing from the bathroom connected to his bedroom. you sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through your hair, staring at his phone lighting up on the bedside table, once again buzzing with notifications. curiosity got the best of you. you didn’t want to be the kind of person who went through someone else’s phone, but the feeling in your chest wouldn’t let you ignore it anymore. so, with shaky fingers, you pulled down the notification bar, and that’s when your heart dropped for the first time in nine years.

four girls. maybe five. their names flashing on the screen, some of them sending attachments you didn’t even want to open. you didn’t need to. the gist was clear. flirting. photos. motel meet-ups. you felt sick, your hands trembling as you held the phone, your pulse roaring in your ears, drowning out the sound of the water still running in the bathroom.

when mark stepped out, a towel slung low around his waist, his hair dripping wet, his usual grin plastered across his face, you couldn’t even look at him. “you okay, baby?” he murmured, approaching the foot of the bed. the scent of him, the faintest hint of sauvage, mixed with the steam from the shower, was almost nauseating now.

you stared down at your bare feet, unable to speak. you felt like you were on the edge of breaking, your throat tight, your hands shaking as you held his phone in your lap. his smile faltered as he noticed the phone in your hands. you turned it on, the messages lighting up the screen once more. his heart sank, and for the first time, you saw him panic. “babe,” he started, his voice breaking, but you wouldn’t let him finish.

with all the rage and betrayal you had kept buried, you slammed his phone against the floor. it shattered, pieces of glass scattering at your feet. the sound of it breaking filled the room, sharp and violent, like the crack of something much deeper snapping inside you. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” he said, his voice rising in disbelief as he stood there, staring at the wreckage of his phone. “at least let me explain.”

you stood, rage boiling in your veins, and before he could reach for you, his hands gripping your shoulders, you met his gaze. the smile he had worn for so long, that same charming smile that had made you fall for him, was gone now. and you saw him for what he was.

without thinking, your hand flew up, and your palm collided with his face. the sound echoed in the silence of the room, and for a moment, neither of you moved. mark was stunned, his cheek reddening from the impact, his eyes wide with shock. you should’ve been afraid. maybe some part of you should have hesitated, but you didn’t. not this time.

“what?” you spat, your voice trembling with fury. “gonna hit me? show me you’re your daddy’s son? you’re already halfway there.” you saw the way his fist clenched, his knuckles turning white. but he didn’t raise his hand. he stood there, frozen, his face pale, eyes filled with a mix of shame and anger, but he didn’t strike back. you left right then and there, grabbing your things with shaking hands. you didn’t look back.

the familiar sound of silence weighed heavy on your shoulders, pressing down like an invisible force, suffocating and thick. it wasn’t the comfortable kind of silence you’d once craved, the kind you sought when the world felt too loud, too chaotic. this was different. this was the silence that mingled with the sound of your quiet sobs, echoing off the walls of your apartment. it was too quiet. too still. and in that stillness, the mess of your head overpowered the mess of the space around you.

the apartment was the same disarray it had always been—clothes strewn across the floor, an unwashed coffee mug on the table, an empty takeout container abandoned on the counter. but none of it seemed to matter. not now. not with the turmoil in your chest, the ache that made it impossible to focus on anything but the hollow throb of betrayal that gnawed at your insides.

your phone buzzed on the table beside you, and you didn’t have to look to know it was him. it had been going off for hours now, vibrating insistently, demanding your attention with every essay-length text he sent. you could imagine the words without even reading them—apologies, excuses, desperate attempts to explain away the hurt he had caused. but they were just words, and they meant nothing to you now. he had ruined everything. not you.

you had been a step ahead of him this whole time, guarding your heart as best you could, but that was perfect. he was a step behind you, stabbing you in the back had never been easier. you stared at your phone, the messages stacking up on the screen, the notifications piling on top of each other until it felt like they were mocking you. mocking the love you had given him, the trust you had placed in him.

eventually, you responded. not with the anger or the pain you felt in your chest, but with something colder. numb. a simple message, telling him to come get his stuff the next day. no explanations, no arguments. just the finality of it, the line drawn in the sand.

you didn’t get any sleep that night. How could you, when the shadows of him lingered everywhere? his clothes, his gifts, his belongings—they surrounded you like ghosts, watching over you from every corner of the apartment. even the air felt heavy with his presence, as if you could still smell the faint scent of his cologne hanging in the room, clinging to everything he had touched.

by the time the sun started to rise, you felt hollow. the kind of emptiness that comes after a storm, when everything has been stripped away, leaving only the wreckage behind. that was when you heard the knock at the door, faint but insistent. you knew it was him.

your hands trembled as you unlocked the door, the cold metal of the knob slick beneath your sweaty palms. when you opened it, mark didn’t hesitate to step inside. he barged in, his movements hurried, his breath catching in his throat like he had run the whole way here. his eyes were puffy, red, and swollen, matching your own. his heart broke at the sight of you, standing there in your worn-out pajamas, eyes rimmed with tears. but you? you had nothing left to break. you had already given him everything. your heart, your trust, your love. he had taken it all and shattered it, and now there was nothing left for him to ruin.

“your stuff’s in my room,” you croaked out, your voice hoarse from hours of crying. it was all you could manage to say. you couldn’t even bear to look at him, not directly. you were no longer facing the man you thought you knew. you weren’t sure if you ever knew him at all. but mark didn’t move. he stood there, his breath shallow, his body tense, as if he was fighting some internal battle. you turned your back to him, unwilling—unable—to look at the face that had lied to you for so long. that was when he finally moved.

not toward your room, not to gather his things like you had expected. no, instead, he came for you. you felt his warmth before anything else. his breath, hot against your neck. his arms, familiar and strong, draping around your waist, pulling you close. you didn’t fight it. you didn’t push him away. maybe you were too weak, too tired from all the crying. maybe you just didn’t want to. maybe you wanted to hold on to something familiar, something that reminded you of the love you thought you had.

“i’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, barely above a whisper, the sound of it raw and broken. “i don’t deserve you. i never deserved you. i don’t deserve to beg, but you have to know they meant nothing. nobody will ever top you. nobody will ever come close to you. hate me, but please don’t stop loving me.”

you didn’t respond, but you felt the tears start again, the ones you thought had been drained from your eyes. they flowed silently down your cheeks, mingling with his as he pressed his face to yours, his cheek wet against your skin. you could feel him trembling, the weight of his regret pouring from him in waves, and for a moment, you let it wash over you.

he kissed your cheek, soft, tentative, as though he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer still, his lips trailing along your jawline, your temple. you let him, because it was cold. and he was the only warmth you had left. his lips found yours, once sweet and tender, now salty with tears. you didn’t pull away. you let him kiss you. you kissed him back.

“i’m so sorry, baby,” he murmured between the kisses, his voice cracking, “i love you so much. please, don’t leave me.” you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. his hands were everywhere, gripping you like he was terrified to let go, like he was scared you might slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold you tight enough. that’s what you wanted to believe—that his touch was desperate, that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. so you let him. you let him touch you, hold you, kiss you. because in that moment, it was all you had left.

his hands moved up your body, his touch feather-light as they reached the hem of your shirt. he tugged it over your head, his eyes never leaving yours, and you didn’t resist. your heart was racing, but not with the excitement it usually did when he touched you. no, this was something else—something more frantic, more desperate. you weren’t sure if you were letting him do this because you loved him or because you were just too tired to fight.

you felt the warmth of his skin against yours as his shirt came off next, the soft fabric brushing against your sensitized skin like a lover’s caress. and maybe, just for a moment, you convinced yourself that you could forgive him. that his love was enough to fill the gaping hole that his lies had left in your chest.

you stumbled backwards toward the bed, his arms never leaving your body, your legs giving out beneath you as he laid you down. his kisses grew more urgent, his touch more feverish as he explored your bare skin. you were crying now, your body shaking with each sob that wracked your chest. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t stop, not now.

you felt his hands on your pants, the button popping open, and you didn’t protest. the fabric slid down your legs, leaving you exposed, vulnerable. his eyes searched yours, looking for a glimmer of hope, something to cling to. you didn’t want to give it to him, but your body was betraying you. it responded to his touch like it had been programmed to do so from the very start. his weight settled on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding on as if he were the last piece of driftwood in a storm. you sobbed into his neck as he moved inside of you, the friction mixing with the pain in your heart. you weren’t sure if you were crying because it felt good or because it hurt. maybe it was both.

his breath grew ragged, his movements quickening, his eyes never leaving yours. he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, words that once meant everything now sounding like echoes of the past. you didn’t say anything back, just held onto him tighter, letting his warmth and the rhythm of his body fill the cold void that had taken root inside you. and when he finally came, his body shuddering with the force of his release, he collapsed onto you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his tears mixing with yours.

it hurt like hell, every bit of it. every breath you took was like a punch to your gut, every tear that fell from your cheek felt cold. it was cold, and it was quiet. it was home.

✧

a/n: if ur reading this and ur in a toxic relationship, and when i say toxic, that ranges from gaslighting to physical abuse—this is ur sign that there most definitely is a way out. if ur reading this while and ur ina toxic relationship thinking, this is awful, how could the reader patch things up with him just like that, this is ur sign. the hands that hold you are the ones most capable of harming you and the words that console you will be the fastest to hurt you. a cold touch will feel warm when ur freezing, but sometimes its just better to freeze. know your worth, and even if you dont know it, know that it has never depended on what a man thinks of you, and it never will

[ennieee]

mark in nct127 : a cute dongsaeng mark in dream : a cute hyung

[luvyeni]

I WANNA FUCK MARK LEE ── ( 마크이 ) .ᐟ

OO4. | let's love each other please ❤️x

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ previous - series masterlist - next ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

TAGLIST. @tommina @toroufriteh @conwunder @jisungji @njmluvr @produmads @chenlesfavorite @hyuckshinee @luv4jeno @sunghoonsgfreal @xntlax @seoaegis @hey-hey-heybitch @aeminju @silkjaem @darlingz99 @junviadinho @riizing777 @xcosmi @i03jae @mmjhh1998 @starfilledgaze @ppeachyttae @crazzzyyyy @aek1ra @ne0c0r3 @alethea-moon @lovebuglissas @oddracha @20crowsinahoodie @planetwonbin @syzavxy @ant-onie @jensdior @222brainrot @jensdior @roseangelxfuma @yewshi @nneteyamss @kazscara @nmlee @mystverse @tadadw @haesluvr @slayhaechan @kittydollzz @hyucksunset

©️LUVYENI

[sugruzt]

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

⠀⠀neo culture technology ⤹ 127 ⭒ mark ⭒ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❝ message in a bottle ; 마크이

⤹ dream ⭒ mark ⭒ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❝ message in a bottle ; 마크이

⠀⠀boynextdoor ⭒ jaehyun ⭒ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏❝ castaways ; 명재현

[fr10mis-storage]

Mark | 10

[rubybunnii]