Got7 Mark Tuan Smut - Tumblr Posts

Voicemail_Mark’s POV (M)

Side note!: I’ve been wanting to make his POV literally since I first posted the story...here we are 3 years later lol omg. Also I wouldn’t technically say this is Mark’s pov as in from his eyes but his pov as in more of his thoughts and what happens on his end of the phone if that makes sense??

Mark couldn’t wait to meet up with his friends tonight, mainly you. It’s been a while since he’s been out to a club, he just wants to let loose for one night. Him and Jackson ride to the club together, when they arrive you meet them at the door so you can lead them to where the rest of the group was.

The moment Mark lays his eyes on you, he’s breathless. You’re wearing this pretty little pink dress that hugs every inch of you perfectly and stops just before your mid thigh. Your matching pumps pulling the look together. Mark already knew he wasn’t going to be able to take his eyes off of his best friend tonight. You literally take his breath away. Every single time. 

“Hi guys!” You yell excitedly.

You turn around and they follow you over to the booth and see the shots have arrived.

“Jackson, Mark. Since you guys arrived late, you get the first round of shots!!” A friend from the group yelled. 

Mark eyes the table, 10 shots. 5 for Jackson and 5 for himself. He hasn’t done shots in a while. This night is not going to end in his favor. 

---

As the night goes on Mark becomes increasingly drunk. He’s slightly still aware of what’s going on and he’s afraid he might slip up and confess to you. He cannot afford that. 

You notice Mark isn’t doing too good so you go over to where he’s sitting and standing beside him, you run your fingers through his hair to ease the nausea you’re sure he’s feeling right now. You hear Mark hum as he leans against your stomach

Mark absolutely loved that and he wished that you would never stop touching him. 

“Do you want me to take you home, Mark?” You ask, still playing in his hair.

He looks up at you and smiles. His thoughts go crazy for a second. Had he heard that right? You want to take him home? And then what? Mark couldn’t wait to find out.

“Yes, please.”

You help him up and put his arm over your shoulder so he can rest on you. You find Jackson on your way out.

“Jackson!” You yell, tapping his shoulder. 

He turns and notices Mark, way too drunk to keep partying, and nods to you with a thumbs up. Signaling that he understands you’re taking him home.

---

He sees his apartment getting closer and closer, until it’s right in front of him. He began to get excited. You’re at his place now, what’s next? 

As you reach his door, you pull out your spare to take him inside. Once inside with the door shut behind you, you let him put a little more weight on you so he can take his shoes off, then you start walking him to his bedroom. 

As you’re walking, Mark still leaning on your shoulder, pushes his face more into your neck.

Mark inhales your scent. You smell so sweet to him. He feels his dick jump a little. 

“Y/N,” he mumbles into your neck.

Mark contemplates for a second. He wants to ask you if you’re going to stay with him. If you had been feeling the same towards him. If you could just cuddle with him because your presence makes him feel relaxed. But he starts to overthink. What if your intentions this whole time had been to simply get your drunk best friend home safely because that’s 100% what he would’ve done for you had it been the other way around? He decides to plays it safe.

“You’re really the best.”

---

After you left Mark could not stop thinking about you. That pretty little dress you had on tonight. He watched it rise higher and higher up your legs as you danced until you pulled it back down. What he would do to just be able to pull it up himself and see how pretty he knows your pussy is. 

The way you smelled when he leaned his face into your neck. He was so tempted to just give you a little nibble so he can see how'd you react. Would you moan? Let out a little whimper? Would you lean your head to the side, giving him more access?

He hadn’t realized his hand had slipped into his boxers and he was slowly massaging his dick to the thought of you. This wouldn’t be the first time. Tonight was different though. Maybe it was because of the alcohol, but he was so certain that you were feeling some kind of way about him too.

He wraps his hand around himself thinking about you some more. As he pumps himself, he imagines how things could’ve went had you stayed. He’d gently lay you on the bed. Slowly run his finger up your thigh until it reached the hem of that pink dress. He imagines you’d be begging him to move his hand even higher. His imagination is just not enough.

“FUCK!” He yells. “Fuck it! I’m calling her!” He says to himself.

He’s so frustrated he doesn’t know what else to do. He knows the sound of your voice would help him so much right now. He opens his phone, not even caring about the blinding light from the screen. Goes to his contacts and calls you.

He listens to it ring and ring and ring. Voicemail. Of course

He’s so frustrated hearing that beep, that all he can do is moan.

“Y/N,” He whines. “Answer your phone, I need your help.”

He pulls his boxers down with his free hand so he can get a full range of motion as he continues to slowly pump himself. Moaning even louder.

“I think the only way I can finish is if I hear your voice,” He whines again. Thinking you’ll hear this voicemail and immediately give him a call.

Then he gets an idea.

“Maybe if I show you what I need help with, you’ll answer?”

So he hangs up and sits up in bed, trying to find the perfect angle. He grabs his dick right at the base with his legs spread and make sure the camera gets the whole thing in the shot. He sends with the caption “I really wish you would’ve stayed...” Not caring how desperate this makes him look right now.

He waits a couple of minutes and when there’s no response he calls again. He moans again as soon as the beep goes off. He’s heard you say that you like men who aren’t afraid to be vocal in bed before. He’s using that information to his full advantage right now.

“Did you see it? Should I send another, maybe from a different angle?” He says into the phone as his pace speeds up.

He keeps the voicemail going as he continues to pump himself. He starts to think about you touching yourself to the sound of his voice and he really starts to feel something building, precum starting to seep out. 

He quickly hangs up to take two more pictures, while the precum makes his tip glisten. He pinches the tip to squeeze more out and snap a picture. The second one he opens his hand holding it next to his dick, showing how wet it’s gotten from his precum. And send. 

He calls again. Voicemail. Again. 

“Were the last two better? I made sure to take it while the tip was wet.”

He starts imagining you touching yourself to his pictures now. He’s panting, he’s so close he just needs a little something more. 

“Y/N, please answer the phone, I need to hear your voice.”

Frustrated, he hangs up and quickly goes through his video album looking for a specific video he remembers you two made together. You wanted to do his make up so bad and you wanted to record it as proof that it happened. He never thought that you sharing that video with him would be the greatest thing you could’ve done.

Finally he’s found it. You’re wearing a white cropped tank top and some athletic shorts, not too short, but not as long as men’s shorts. You’re leaning over him telling him about your day as you do his make up.

Mark watches your body through the whole video, listening to your soothing voice. He watches how your breast peaking out the top of your tank top move ever so slightly, moaning at the sight. One part of the video you lean into his face from the side and your ass is in full view. He wishes he could see it with nothing blocking his view. He wants to fuck you so bad. Oh, he’s so so close. He stops pumping for just a second to call again. His dick jumping begging for the friction again.

Once the beep goes off he immediately starts pumping fast again.

“All I had to do was find a video of you talking,” he chuckles, “Now I'm really close.”

He starts pumping faster and gripping tighter. His mind his flooded with thoughts of you. He starts panting and he feels it building more and more. His hips jutting into the air, thrusting his dick into his hand as he brings his hand down. He closes his eyes tight imagining as best he could that his closed hand was your pussy. He moans so hard into the phone.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck!” He’s cumming. Hard. His hand continues its movement, only slower, dragging out his orgasm as much as he could. His hips won’t stop jutting into the air until he lets go of his dick.

He hangs up. He feels like he’s on cloud 9. The orgasm was very much needed. He’s in such a daze he begins to drift to sleep, hand still loosely wrapped around his dick.

---

Mark wakes up with a slight headache from the alcohol last night. It takes him a minute to realize he’s completely naked and his hands are sticky.

“What the fuck..” He starts. Then his whole evening comes reeling back in his head.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” He yelled at the top of his lungs.

He jumps up and checks his phone. He goes to the messages and there they are. Pictures of his dick. Delivered. Can’t take them back. Panic starts to set in. It’s 9:45 AM and you haven’t seen them yet. He debates on if a shower is more important than dealing with this situation. He decides he can wash really quick and not get his mess everywhere.

He returns from the bathroom and the messages still say delivered. He figures if he sends a bunch of messages now apologizing and telling you not to scroll up, the pictures will be so far up you won’t see them when you open the messages.

So that’s what he does. Message after message of apologies, blaming the alcohol, telling you to ignore the pictures. Then he remembers the voicemails. Fuck. Now he’s sending messages telling you to just flat out delete them. As he’s sending them, he notices it starts to say ‘Read.’

He began to panic again. He feels like his heart his about to fly right through his chest, it’s beating so hard. 

He’s just decided to accept the situation he’s put himself in and ends his string of messages asking you to call him.

Mark can’t stop pacing back in forth in his room, watching his phone, waiting for it to light up with your name.

He feels like it’s been hours when his ringtone finally goes off and your name pops up. He picks up the phone frantically and presses the accept immediately.

“Hello,” Mark answers almost breathless from anxiety.

“Goodmorning,” you respond quietly.

How is she so calm right now, Mark thinks to himself.

“Did you listen to them,” he asks frantically, “Did you see the messages?”

You’re quiet for a moment.

Mark is panicking again. It’s killing them he can’t just already know what you’re thinking. Why aren’t you saying anything? Is this good or bad?

“He-” Marks starts.

You cut him off.

“Can you come over?”