#nct 127 mark

[doietopia]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ loud moaning!mark ㅤㅤ (+18, mdni)

he’s already breathing hard when you slide your hand down. his moans start soft, but they build with every second, low, needy, unfiltered. he hides his face in your neck like that’ll muffle the sounds, but it doesn’t.

you hear everything. the way his voice trembles, the way he gasps when your thumb brushes the tip, the way he curses under his breath like he’s about to fall apart.

the moment your fingers wrap around him, he moans. no warning, no hesitation, just this guttural sound that escapes his throat like it’s been trapped there forever.

“fuck—”

his hips jerk up, needy, desperate, he’s been waiting all day just to feel you. he can’t stop the sounds that leave him, deep, raw moans that grow louder with every stroke, every squeeze. he’s loud, almost embarrassingly so, but you don’t tell him to quiet down.

“you feel so fucking good,” he breathes, head falling back, lips parted. “please— don’t stop—”

he’s losing it, moaning without shame, the kind of sounds that make your skin burn and your thighs press together. every breath is laced with your name.

“i love it when you touch me like this,” he gasps, eyes fluttering shut. “i swear— i can’t think— i just want you.”

you lean in, lips brushing his jaw.

“then let me have you,” you whisper.

and the moan he lets out at that, loud, broken, aching, makes your whole body shiver. he’s so close, so open, so undone for you. all you did was touch him, and he’s already giving you everything.

[polarisjisung]

ꨄ ME AND THE KITCHEN WITH DIAMOND RINGS

COOKING KISSING W/ BF!MARK

wc: 0.5k warnings: uhh they makeout ig notes: i can't believe mark released 200 a whole year ago | LIBRARY

Mark can't cook. It's a simple fact that everyone knows.

But Mark isn't stupid. Anyone can follow a few instructions and throw a few things into a pot, stirring every once in a while to make sure things don't stick, and he's no different. He's done it a thousand times before and as long as he doesn't lose focus or slip up, which unfortunately happens a little too often for his liking, it goes pretty well.

So maybe, it's not really that Mark can't cook, more that he shouldn’t.

You can though, and your cooking, if you do say so yourself, isn't too bad, pretty good in fact.

So Haechan, cannot for the life of him understand why, when you and Mark are in the kitchen together, the food always turns out a little caramelised. Burnt, if he wasn't trying to protect your feelings.

He walked into the kitchen last week to the smell of something a little charred, noticing how you and Mark were already sighing and groaning about how difficult it'd be too clean the pot.

“You burned the food again?” he couldn't even act surprised, “What even happens in here when you two cook together.”

He should've figured from the way your cheeks flushed over and the tips of Mark’s ears turned red, but Haechan was too focused on hunting for something to satisfy his hunger from your fridge.

And you couldn't have been more glad that he didn't push any further, because God knows how you'd live it down.

But Mark doesn't seem to care. Not about being caught, and definitely not about the stew bubbling away on the stove on one end of the kitchen, because he had his arms looped around your waist, placing kisses to your cheek even after you'd both agreed to actually cook this time.

“Mark.’ You warned.

Your voice wasn't exactly intimidating or anything, so with a grin, he only continued to place kisses across your face, eventually trailing down your neck, in hopes he would change your mind.

But your grip on the spoon was firm, for all of maybe five minutes.

Soon enough your back was against the counter and your lips were moving against his, a hand pressed against his chest.

“Mark, we should really–”

He cut you off, “Kiss some more?” He smiled, taking in your features for a moment, “Yeah I agree.”

“Mark the food.”

He shrugged, pulling you into for another kiss, “Just one more.”

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one.

Because soon enough, Haechan had come through the kitchen door with two fingers dramatically pinched over his nose. You didn't notice of course.

“Guys I really don't understand how you manage to—.”

You froze, barely processing his words as Mark stumbled back, his hands halfway under your shirt.

“Oh my God.”

All you could do was clear your throat and smooth your hair down, leaving Mark to deal with Haechan, who stood in the doorway, mouth agape.

“I should've known you didn’t burn the food by accident.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Dude we were um, multitasking?”

Haechan scoffed, “What trying to start a family while making dinner?”

tags: @nebularsung @suzayaaa @nanawrlds @sinisxtea @dearlyminhyung @flaminghotyourmom @jisworlds @jenobubbles @nctdreamchaser @lotties-readings @mystverse @chenlezip @blondemrk @17ericas @ayukas

[featjunranghae]

Losers Luck - Mark Lee

- in which dreamies decide that mark's taking way too long to ask you out so they take matters into their own hands via a thirst trap and DM

Part of the nct dream uni smau series but can be read as a stand alone

part one

main masterlist - nct masterlist - next

loser's luck masterlist

Taglist: @sung-ct @haluenx @notmastyle @dinonuguaegi

[loserlvrss]

𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ⟡ Mark Lee

( 六月 ). ─────you got my heartbeat to play to your time.

one thing about your boyfriend is that he would always take care of you 🫐📨 엔시티이민형 &fem!rea. ｡ ｡warn. ment. of being drunk, kiss 1THOU one shot, fluff, 𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶.

노트 my bf btw click4more

It’s a good thing the elevator in your apartment hadn’t gone out yet, otherwise the man on your arm would’ve been upset—though he’d never let you know that.

He just loved you too much for that. And, you kept telling him about how much of a good night it was for you. Seeing old friends and getting drinks. He’d never dream of ruining that.

“Baby,” He stated quietly, pulling your arm around his waist higher, as it kept slipping. “Hold on, just a little longer…why’d you have to live on the 10th floor? Thank God the elevator isn’t out. Is the view really worth it though?” He watched the numbers climb, illuminated electronically above the door.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and though you were hunched against him, you willed your head up.

Deadpanning, you replied, “duh.” To which he just laughed at, “You just don’t get it, Mark! Have you seen it? It’s beautiful! Not more than you but, you know.”

“Many times—actually, I helped you move in, baby.”

You giggled, head falling into his side, “Y-yeah, you did…do you remember haechan falling up the stairs? He wasn’t even carrying anything heavy! Oh my god, it was so funny, I swear I peed my pants!”

Mark thought that, for a drunk girl, you were very good at not sounding slurred with your words. However, standing or walking in a straight line were two very different tasks for you to accomplish in this state. But, he thought it was cute that you thought of him to pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He loved that you loved him so much; shared so many memories with him and were still willing to make them.

And truthfully, he loved you more.

The elevator dinged, the voice telling you that the doors were now opening. Mark braced his arm around you tighter, hiking you up to be, at least a little, straighter.

You trudged along, holding back his attempts to keep a steady pace. You knew it was difficult to move on your own accord in your current state but, honestly you could’ve just fallen asleep on the floor if you fell.

“Work—with—me—here, y/n. Please,” He gritted, practically dragging your giggling figure, “Do you even want to sleep in your own bed?”

Your eyes narrowed soberly, “Are you staying?”

“Will that make you walk faster?”

As if possessed, the thought alone was enough to make you straighten your back and begin willing your legs to move—clumsily, of course, but you knew your boyfriend was still a crutch to make sure you didn’t hit the floor.

He laughed in disbelief, then relief once you two finally had made it to your numbered door. Mark put in the passcode and it chimed with satisfaction.

“You scare me sometimes, baby.”

You hopped in place, the door swinging open with the length of his arm. You slumped against the wall, unhooking the strap of your heels and kicking them off.

“Let’s go to bed!” And when you were about take off down the hall, a hand grabbed yours and stopped you—your feet comically still stomping in place. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked over your shoulder in confusion.

“First,” he started, leading you down the hall; for a moment you thought he just didn’t want you to run but, he turned off into your bathroom. Mark hit the switch and illuminated the room, your eyes shutting instinctively. “Your makeup.”

As if it was a daunting statement, you whined, trying to get out of his grip. “No.”

“You’ll kill me in the morning, babe,” He grabbed your waist, hoisting you onto the counter and trapping you with his body, “It won’t take long.”

Your pinky swung from the porcelain and into his view, “Promise.” You weren’t asking, and that made him laugh.

His pinky connected with yours, “Promise.” He replied adamantly, mimicking your movement and kissing the end of his balled fist.

He got to work, grabbing the remover and a couple cotton rounds. He gently swiped your skin, and you swear your head kept drifting to the side with tiredness. You couldn’t help that your boyfriend was the sole reason you could get a good-nights sleep.

Instead of trying to keep you up, he grabbed it, huffing out another laugh at your antics but, letting you fully fall asleep in his hand.

Mark admired you as he tried his best to get the mascara off, smudging it and making you look a little foolish. He thought you were cute; the way your lips were parted, small snores leaving them. The slight crease of your brows as he put your moisturizer and serums on. He swears he could feel his heart swell, knowing you were just that comfortable around him—so adamant to have him by your side—to have him love you.

And, he did.

He loved you so fucking much. His future was you. If he was your world, you were his sun. You were his lifeline. You were the one person he knew he could rely on without contest. If he was a producer, you were his muse. Everything revolved around you. Even if his thoughts weren’t originally for you, they’d eventually make their way back to you. He was excited to talk to you about anything and everything. He was blindsided by a love as strong as this mutual one.

He’d die for you, and that’s why he lives.

Honestly, he was so embarrassingly emotional right now for you, he could practically feel the tears welling up.

Mark swallowed the lump in his throat, grabbing the other side of your head and watching as you blinked yourself conscious.

You smiled sleepily, “When’d you get here, baby?”

He could feel your arms climb to be around his neck, pulling him and simultaneously pushing yourself to get body-to-body. You always craved the warmth (even subconscious) like you were cold-blooded.

“I’m always here.” He kissed the side of your mouth, whispering against your lips, “Now, let’s go to bed?”

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. reblogs & feedback appreciated networks : @kstrucknet @neocity-net

[luvilele]

　 .　　ﾟ .　 ݁ ⠀⠀* ⠀⠀. ˚ 　　　.　　ﾟ .　 ݁ ⠀⠀* ⠀⠀. ˚

𐔌  🪶ㅤ 𓈒 𓇼 𝆬       ᮫       🦌     𝆬      ۪    ࣪     🫙 ｡ ꒱

　 .　　ﾟ .　 ݁ ⠀⠀* ⠀⠀. ˚ 　　　.　　ﾟ .　 ݁ ⠀⠀* ⠀⠀. ˚

[kpopsexstories]

QUICK FIX GAY #37: K-pop Massage Therapist #2 – NCT Mark Happy Ending

This is a gay story. Check out my Quick Fix series for straight smut and Quick Fix Gay for more gay content.

Pairing: NCT Mark x Male Reader

Content: You’re a highly sought-after massage therapist among idols thanks to the happy endings you give them. Mark's problem? He can't get hard unless you help.

Type of Sex: VANILLA

Word Count: 1,324

Mark lay naked and completely relaxed on your table, with nothing but a small towel covering his cheeks. Initially, months ago, he questioned your suggestion of taking his underwear off – you had never asked that of him before that time – but you assured him it was okay. Fully aware of the additional services you provided to some of his peers, he became excited and gladly did as you told. Since then, your professional relationship took a new turn.

You ran your hands across the back of his thighs one last time and leaned in close. “I'm done,” you whispered in his ear, thinking he might be asleep. You were skilled with your hands and it wouldn't be the first time something like that happened.

He let out a deep sigh. “Ahhh,” he said, then mumbled: ”You're fucking amazing.”

You smiled wide to yourself. It always felt great to be complimented for your work.

You went to wash your hands by a sink on the wall in the small room, while Mark slowly came back to life. He pushed himself up and you turned around just in time to see him twirl and grab the towel just as it was about to drop.

He sat up with his legs hanging down the side of the table, and clutched the towel over his crotch.

Your eyes met. He grinned and didn't make any effort to jump down. And when you approached him again, he suddenly lay back down facing the ceiling.

He kept his most intimate area covered, straightening the towel over his cock. But he never stopped smiling. The massage may be over, but the treatment was certainly not.

You didn't even need to say a word to each other. He'd been your client for years and you'd been in this position several times in the last few months. You knew exactly what he wanted you to do. His company probably wondered why he suddenly asked for so many sessions.

Mark relaxed again when your hand returned to his thigh. He closed his eyes and just lay there, letting your fingers glide up his leg. When you reached the tiny towel you let the fingers slide inside, and Mark opened his mouth ever so slightly when the tips brushed against his member.

You observed his face with a smile as you felt your way to his soft cock. You wrapped your fingers around it and slowly, carefully began to stroke it. His problem wasn't that he tended to get an erection during massages, but rather that he couldn't get hard even when he wanted to.

With you, things were different. Whether it was your gender, the forbidden situation, your skilled hands or something else entirely remains unknown, but before long you felt the soft cock harden. The towel was raised from his crotch even when your hand stayed completely still.

Mark sighed deeply. The more his cock grew, the tighter your fingers became around it. Soon your client was fully erect, and the way you held the cock straight made the towel raise so high the side of his naked hip and ass was showing.

You leaned in over the table and Mark's body to reach deeper and get a better grip. A part of your arm disappeared, as you circled the erection with all of your hand in various angles. Your palm covered it fully, and you began to move the arm up and down.

Still oily despite having washed your hands, the shaft quickly became slippery and lubricated. A satisfying suction sound was produced, and the towel moved around when you jerked off the member, and stroke it in circular motions. Only the tip of the shaft held the fabric in place, preventing it from slipping down and falling to the floor.

“How's this?” you asked and proudly stared at Mark's face.

“Fuckin’ good,” he said, every muscle in him completely relaxed from the full body massage that had just ended.

You kept smiling even though he wasn't looking. Your hand moved faster and faster, and the suction-like sound grew loud, as oil, water, your hand and his cock mixed underneath the towel. Mark began to pant, and your breath changed too, as you maintained the repetitive and increasingly rapid motions.

The happy ending didn't last very long. Mark never did once he finally managed to get hard. But the goal was to make your client release and de-stress, and there was no need for him to hold out or think of you. You were technically still on the clock and getting paid to do this, after all.

“Ah-a-ah-a,” he whimpered in abrupt and ever louder breaths. “M-m, mmm, mm!”

You stopped smiling as you observed him. His whole flat and out-stretched body rocked gently on the table, and his face grimaced more and more. You glanced at a clock on the wall, and in your mind you were secretly going for a record.

You squeezed the shaft tighter still, and moved your hand even faster. The towel began to jump up and down but stayed in place, and Mark clenched his fists by his sides.

“A-ahh-ah-a-ahhh,” he kept going. “Mmm, yeah, m-m-m-mmm!”

He suddenly turned slightly sideways and grabbed on to the towel hard. Your eyes darted to his hip and ass, as more of his side and rear became exposed. Then he abruptly jerked his head, and you prepared yourself for what your hand might feel.

Your client’s face curled up and froze. He stopped panting and held his breath, and his feet and legs squirmed around against your arm.

A wet sensation hit your fingers but you didn't stop. Mark pressed the towel against his crotch and it became a crumpled mess between his legs. He rolled even further to one side, away from you, as he released his cum into the absorbent material.

You had to press your body against the side of the table to keep reaching his cock. You kept moving your hand in small but fast and steady motions, until Mark pushed on it hard and lay back down on his back and his ass disappeared from view. He briefly raised his legs and let out a long, deep sigh, before you eased your grip and he became flat and fully relaxed again.

You stared at him and slowed your movements. He finally opened his eyes, and burst out in a big, satisfied grin when he saw you. Then you let go of his cock and retracted your hand, while he kept holding the towel against his crotch and sat up.

“Ahhhh,” he sighed and repeated his praise: “You're fucking incredible.”

You turned your back on him and returned to the sink while he got up. You heard him jump down from the table on bare feet, and turned your head while still washing his cum off your fingers.

“Best massage ever,” he added.

You snickered and smiled. “Same time next week?”

Mark stood naked with his side to you and began to make his way to the exit, looking woozy and still with the towel in a ball in front of him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” you said in a calm voice, but you quickly leaped for something on the floor and a brief sting of fear rushed through your heart. Mark abruptly stopped and turned. “You forgot something.”

The man felt ashamed and chuckled when you tossed his underwear to him, and pointed at his pants on a chair. You watched him put his clothes back on, and admired the muscles on his body. The man looked really good.

“See you next time,” he said with a smile when he was finally ready. You checked him out from behind as he walked out, then glanced at the clock again and wondered who your next appointment might be.

God I love my job, you thought, and Mark closed the door behind him.

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NCT DREAM DATING BAN – Story 3 – Mark

NCT Mark (Top) Missionary Style (Gay Version)

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[ttoribini]

˚⊹ ᰔೀ dream boyfriend: incoming ˚⊹ ᰔೀ

college student! mark x college student! yn

featuring! san of ateez, moon sua of billlie, yuqi of gi-dle, and soobin of txt

synopsis! it wasnt your fault mark was the first profile to appear on your instagram! and it was most definitely not your fault when you told your annoying older cousins that mark lee, the captain of your unis soccer team, was your boyfriend and somehow got him invited to the next family reunion ...

other! smau, fake dating to ?? to lovers, slight jaemin x yn, yns cousins are assholes, mark is the ideal son in law, hes also an asshole, kys/kms jokes, mark kinda leads yn on, will add more as i go along, jaemin smau spin-off

COMPLETE!!!

╰┈➤ hot bitches • ball is life

letter 0. prologue (written)

letter 1. blocked but not forgotten

letter 2. SPOTTING!! (written)

letter 3. white to a wedding

letter 4. shot o clock

letter 5. hangover and spiderman

letter 6. unbothered

letter 7 here comes the bride (written)

letter 8. the dad talk

letter 9. lets break up (or not) (written)

letter 10. wake ups (again)

letter 11. yap

letter 12. kissing the homies (written)

letter 13. debrief

letter 14. soccer team captain

letter 15. winning match (written)

letter 16. mysterious figure (written)

letter 17. oh shit

letter 18. enter jaemin?

letter 19. jealousy

letter 20. soft launch

letter 21. familiarity

letter 22. idgaf warrior

letter 23. friends don't kiss (written)

letter 24. goodbye mark lee

letter 25. accidental confessions

letter 26. mitski lyrics

letter 27. family dinner (written)

letter 28. who shot up the taco bell

letter 29. silence

letter 30. mixer pt1

letter 31. mixer pt 2 (written)

letter 32. fuck (half written)

letter 33. hehe (scared)

letter 34. just a girl

letter 35. let the light in (written)

letter 36. why are you so messy?

letter 37. whos mark lee? never heard of him

letter 38. the way things go (written)

letter 39. DIVA DOWN!!

letter 40. man ... her again?

letter 41. why does everything have to be dramatic?

letter 42. woof arf

letter 43. festival !!

letter 44. wtf is a situationship

letter 45. invite

letter 46. who doesnt love family dinner (written)

letter 47. dad talk .... again

letter 48. escaped the trenches

letter 49. CRINGE!

letter 50. dream boyfriend

BONUS !!

special 1. happy birthday special 2. no nut december

[kiszjuli]

・── ࣪layover .ᐟ (M.L)

(마크 ) ; fem!reader x mark lee

──in which you meet that one boy at the airport you will never forget. but not in the way that you had originally thought.

genre. fluff, mutual pining? meeting by chance, non!idol au ; tags. sweet mark, moves kinda fast, a little cliché ; w.c. 955

you always thought airports were a strange place. everyone you passed by had a different story, different destination, and faces you would never see again. each interaction only a short period of time before they went about their own lives. moments of simple glances and polite smiles over in an instant.

but not this one.

you had been walking from your terminal, with your headphones on. letting your phone play whatever, you drowned out the bustling noise of the busy airport. some people leisurely walking by, and others racing by causing small gusts of wind.

you were so immersed in your music, you failed to notice that your favorite lipgloss had fallen out of your bag and onto the cold floor. it rolled backwards until hitting a strangers foot. he bent down to grab it and looked back up. assuming it was yours by the unzipped pocket of your bag, he jogged to catch up to you.

tapping on your shoulder softly, you turned around with a small jump and took your headphones off one ear.

he gave you a small apologetic smile. “you—uh dropped this,” he said holding the lipgloss up.

if you didn’t look dumb already, distracted by his handsome face, you stared at the lipgloss in his hand for a moment. he would’ve thought it actually wasn’t yours if you hadn’t spoken up in that moment. “oh—i didn’t even…thank you,” you replied a little breathless.

you took it from him, your fingers grazing his warm ones for a second. “no problem,” he smiled, stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his blue jacket. then he hesitated, as if wanting to say more. you felt that you did too.

but just like that, the moment was over.

now here you both were, in the same layover. your flights had been delayed, the universe lengthening your encounter with one another.

as you waited, you tried not to stare. you kept trying to keep your eyes on the book in your lap that really wasn’t that interesting now that you knew this same beautiful stranger from earlier was in front of you. you would glance up, he would tear his eyes from you. and yet, every time your eyes met there was this flicker of connection. one that kept your eyes moving back up to him.

he was perfect really; fit, lean frame, with black hair that fell over his eyes effortlessly, good style, beautiful smile, and the most attractive eyes you’d ever made contact with. you trues to shake the thoughts. he was just another stranger that would become a distant memory after leaving the airport. but something kept pushing the thoughts right back to the front of your mind.

he felt the same not able to tear his eyes away from you until you looked up, just to look back when he thought you weren’t. to say he was struck by your beauty and effortless charm was an understatement. he was entranced by you almost. he persisted on trying to find a way to talk to you again, needing to know more about you.

you try not to stare. he does too. but every time your eyes meet, there’s a flicker of something—amusement, curiosity, maybe even recognition. it’s a game, almost, this silent conversation neither of you are brave enough to start.

the layover terminal was busy, a low mix of conversations and rolling suitcases filling the air. but somehow, the only thing you’re aware of is him.

across from you, mark shifts. he adjusting his jacket, fingers toying with the zipper. then, out of nowhere—

“hey,” he says, voice warm. “do you always travel alone?”

you blink at the sudden question, but shake your head. “not always. just this time.”

he nods, glancing at the departures screen before looking back at you. “me too.”

there’s a small pause, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t expect with a stranger.

then he smiles. “i’m glad i caught you when i did.”

you tilt your head. “huh?”

he gestures towards your bag near your feet. “you know. the lip gloss.”

a soft laugh escapes you. “you make it sound like a life—or—death situation.”

“hey, you never know.” he grins. “i might’ve just saved you from a serious lipgloss emergency.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “right. my hero.”

he laughs, the sound light and easy, before settling back into a quiet moment.

“but really,” he says after a beat, voice softer this time. “i’m glad i got to talk to you.”

there’s something in the way he says it that makes your heart ache just a little. because you know what he means.

airports aren’t made for keeping people. they’re for passing through. and you both know, eventually, you’ll have to board separate flights, head in different directions.

but for now, you’re here. and so is he. the thought was slightly comforting this time.

mark looks down at his boarding pass, thumb smoothing over the edge before he glances back at you.

“can i—” he hesitates, then shakes his head, laughing a little at himself. “never mind.”

you blink. “what?”

he looks up, something uncertain but hopeful in his expression. “i was gonna ask for your number, but… i don’t know if that’s weird.”

your heart skips.

“it’s not weird,” you say quietly.

his eyes search yours, lips curving into a small smile. “yeah?”

you nod.

he hands you his phone, speaking up softly. “i’m mark by the way,” and for the first time, this layover doesn’t feel like just a passing moment.

maybe airports are temporary. and the people you meet just as temporary.

but maybe, not everything has to be.

—