Mark (NCT), for @niickerzz91
“I just think the main character is so incredibly stupid. She makes so many dumb decisions and then cries about them like it isn’t her fault that things don’t work out the way she wants,” you complained haughtily, waving your hands in the air.
Mark chuckled at you, continuing to watch the tv show the two of you were marathoning. “I think she’s kind of hilarious.”
“Ugh,” you groaned in disgust. “She’s so immature.”
“Maybe I’m just too young to understand, noona,” Mark replied teasingly, referring to your one year age difference. It was something he liked to bring up all the time, and he never let you hear the end of the fact that you went for ‘younger men.’
“Oh god, literally do not call me that. That is just awful, I’m barely a year older than you,” you groaned into your hands, pushing Mark slightly.
“Awww, you don’t like it? How come, noona?” Mark smirked at you, grabbing your hand. You pushed him even harder, but he held on tight to your arm and pulled you in closer to his side. Mark was a lot taller, and a lot stronger, then you so every time you tried to struggle out of his grip, held just ended up holding you together. His arms snaked around your sides, grabbing out your waist and digging his fingers in.
You yelped loudly, squealing as you tried to wiggle away from Mark and his tickles. You failed over and over again and your very ticklish sides were left to be the victims of Mark’s torture.
You were borderline screaming you were laughing so hard as you writhed on the couch. Mark was cackling above you, enjoying watching you be tortured.
“Mark…Mark please… sto…stop please…” you gasped out in between laughs, your chest hurting from how hard you were cackling under Mark’s hands. After a few more sharp squeezes from Mark’s fingers, he finally stopped moving them and kept them resting on your sides. You were both completely out of breath, the tv show completely forgotten.
“You’re the worst,” you groaned, your chest heaving. Mark was still smirking down at you.
“Aw, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, noona,” he teased again. With a cry of frustration you launched yourself at him. He fell back on the couch with a gasp as you landed on top of him, pinning his arms above his head. You straddled his waist, knowing that he would be able to break free from this hold at any moment.
“Promise you’ll stop calling me ‘noona’ and I’ll let you get up,” you growled in your most menacing voice. Mark tried to look scared, but you could tell he was trying to hold back a chuckle.
“Or what?” he asked finally.
“Or else…” she got really close to his face, making sure your lips were just tickling the surface of his. “I’ll drink all your favorite juice out of the fridge.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Mark snapped as you pulled your lips slightly farther from his. Suddenly, he flipped you over so that you’d switched positions, your arms know trapped above your head in only one of his. Mark smirked down at you, bringing his face closer to yours to mimic your actions. “You were saying?”
You tried bucking your hips up and pulling your arms away, but there was no getting out of Mark’s grip. Suddenly, Mark’s mouth came down hard on yours, locking your lips tightly together. You kissed him back greedily, twining your tongue with his when it slipped past your teeth.
The kiss was frantic. Mark let you slip your arms out of his grasp and wrap them around his neck, trying to pull him even closer to you. He pulled at your bottom lip, tugging it in between his teeth delicately. You groaned low in your throat, throwing your head back as you did so.
Wrapping your legs around Mark’s waist, he brought the two of you into a sitting position so that you were settled in his lap. He kept his hands working up and down your back, sometimes finding their way under your t-shirt to stroke against you skin, causing you to break out in goosebumps.
Mark slowly kissed down your jawline and along the curve of your neck: one of his favorite spots to pay close attention to. He licked along the tendon that was sticking out, nipping at it occasionally.
You tugged at his hair, another soft moan escaping your lips. In your daze, you almost smirked to yourself; if this always happened, you wouldn’t ever mind Mark calling you noona.
The next morning, as you were getting ready for work, you groaned loudly. Peering into the mirror, you saw a bruising red hickey splotched across your neck, angry and inflamed. Mark was totally going to get a piece of your mind for giving you one so visible.
Patting on at least a pound of concealer, you hoped it was completely covered and dashed outside the house, almost late for work.
However, no amount of concealer seemed to work against your male coworkers; they seemed to have a six sense for this sort of thing, and teased you endlessly about it. Between the constant jokes and remarks, you knew Mark was going to get a piece of your mind when you got home, no distractions allowed.