The Idol's Prize
Yandere Idol!Mark Lee x Reader
Summary: In a twisted arrangement by the company and his fellow members, NCT’s Mark Lee is gifted a new role for you—not as a manager or assistant, but as his personal possession.
Word Count: 1,250 words
Trigger Warnings:
Possessive/obsessive behavior: Depictions of controlling and obsessive tendencies.
Non-consensual physical contact: Persistent touch despite discomfort.
Forced proximity: Sharing a room and being subjected to Mark’s constant presence.
Emotional manipulation: Coercion disguised as love and care.
Themes of entrapment: Lack of agency in personal and professional life.
Please read cautiously.
The room was quieter than you expected for a dorm housing some of the most famous idols in the world. NCT’s dorm was spacious and pristine, yet there was an underlying tension in the air as you followed the manager down the hallway. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, the reality of your new role sinking in.
You’d heard whispers about this arrangement for weeks, but it still hadn’t prepared you for the announcement earlier today: you were being permanently reassigned to Mark Lee. Not as a manager. Not as an assistant. But as his.
The reasoning was simple, they’d said. Mark worked himself to the bone for the group and deserved a reward. And you—quiet, unobtrusive, and hand-selected by the company—fit the bill. The members had even approved of the idea, much to your surprise.
“Here we are,” the manager said, stopping in front of a door.
You blinked, startled. “This is… Mark’s room?”
“Yes,” he replied with a tight smile. “From now on, you’ll share this space. It’s important for you to be available to him at all times.”
Before you could protest, the door swung open, revealing Mark standing inside.
“Hey,” he said, his voice warm but laced with something you couldn’t quite place. His smile widened when he saw you. “You’re finally here.”
---
The first few days were overwhelming. Sharing a room with Mark was… an adjustment. He was always there, always watching, his eyes lingering on you whenever you moved. At first, it was subtle—a hand brushing against yours as you passed, a fleeting touch on your shoulder. But as the days went on, his touch became bolder.
“You’re tense,” he said one evening, his voice soft as he stood behind you. His hands landed on your shoulders, kneading gently. “You need to relax.”
“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, your heart racing.
He didn’t let go. “You work so hard for me. Let me take care of you for once.”
You didn’t have the courage to pull away, and Mark seemed to take your silence as consent. His hands slid down your arms, his touch lingering before he finally stepped back.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Perfect.”
---
The members didn’t make things any easier.
“Looks like Mark’s finally happy,” Haechan teased one morning over breakfast. “You’ve been smiling a lot more lately.”
Mark shrugged, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair. “Why wouldn’t I? I’ve got everything I need right here.”
You stiffened, feeling the weight of his words. The other members exchanged knowing glances, some smirking while others avoided your gaze entirely.
“She’s good for you,” Taeyong said, his tone neutral but firm. “You seem… calmer.”
Mark’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, and you fought the urge to flinch.
---
Public outings were another challenge. Mark insisted on keeping you close, his hand always resting on the small of your back or your wrist. Fans began to notice, whispering among themselves whenever you appeared at events.
“Who is she?” they’d ask, their voices barely audible over the noise of the crowd.
“Why is Mark always with her?”
The rumors spread quickly, but the company did nothing to address them. If anything, they seemed content to let the speculation grow, as long as Mark stayed happy.
But you weren’t happy.
---
One night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Mark’s voice broke the silence.
“Are you cold?”
You glanced over at him, surprised. He was lying on his side, his head propped up on one hand as he looked at you.
“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.
Mark frowned. “You don’t have to lie. Come here.”
Before you could respond, he reached out and pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you.
“Mark—”
“Shh,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head. “I just want to hold you. Is that so bad?”
His grip was firm but not painful, his body warm against yours. You lay there stiffly, unsure of how to react.
“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, his voice filled with an almost childlike vulnerability. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The weight of his words pressed down on you, and you realized there was no escaping this. No escaping him.
---
As the weeks went on, Mark’s possessiveness grew. He rarely let you out of his sight, and when you did leave the dorms, he insisted on knowing exactly where you were and who you were with.
“You don’t need anyone else,” he said one evening as you sat together on the couch. His hand rested on your thigh, his thumb drawing slow circles on your skin. “I’m all you need.”
“Mark, this isn’t healthy,” you said, your voice trembling.
He looked at you, his eyes darkening. “Don’t say that. Don’t act like you don’t feel the same way.”
You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. Mark leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You belong to me. They gave you to me. Don’t forget that.”
Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, knowing that showing weakness would only make things worse.
---
The other members noticed the shift in your dynamic but said nothing. They’d made their peace with the arrangement, knowing that it kept Mark stable.
“You’re good for him,” Taeyong said one day as you stood in the kitchen. “He’s been through a lot, and you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.”
“What about me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Who’s going to keep me grounded?”
Taeyong didn’t have an answer.
---
That night, as you lay in bed, Mark pulled you into his arms once again. His touch was gentle, but his grip was unyielding, as if he were afraid you might disappear.
“I love you,” he murmured against your hair. “More than anything.”
You closed your eyes, trying to block out the sound of his voice, the weight of his presence. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape the truth: you were his, and there was no way out.