from spring to pretty summer, we'll be burning like a fire
advent calendar, day twenty five — with junmyeon | smut | 5,838 words
♡ˎˊ˗ content: +18 content, mdni, smut, plot with porn, junmyeon's a little clumsy, neighbors to ___, kinda slow burn (???), praising kink, oral sex (f. receiving), pussydrunk!junmyeon's back, unprotected sex, p i v, multiple orgasm, creampie, junmyeon x f!reader
♡ˎˊ˗ summary: junmyeon's bad luck led him to you, your neighbor, asking for some help on christmas night.
The air in your apartment was thick with the rich, intoxicating scent of baking—a sugary haze of melted chocolate and brown sugar. It was a craving-turned-creation, a massive tray of brownies cooling for the Christmas dinner you planned to host for your best friend, Nat.
Suddenly, the ring of the doorbell cut through the quiet.
Instinctively, you froze. Nat was an hour early. The table wasn’t set, and you were still dusted in flour.
“Shit, shit, shit,” you hissed, bolting from the cramped kitchen. You didn’t pause to check the peephole. You simply yanked the door open at full speed.
Framed in the hallway light stood a man. He was slightly taller than you, undeniably handsome, and looked like a startled bunny caught in your unexpected rush. He was scratching the back of his neck, an awkward, self-conscious gesture, while in his other hand he held a small, neatly taped box.
“Oh, hey—sorry,” he mumbled, his apology tripping over itself. He struggled to meet your eyes, which were wide with a confusing blend of residual panic and surprise.
You haven’t seen him before.
“I’m Junmyeon. I moved in next door, 4B, last week,” he started, his sigh thick with genuine frustration. “Look, something truly stupid just happened. I was getting a food delivery, and the door slammed shut behind me. I forgot my keys and my phone inside.” He offered a nervous, slightly strained laugh. “God, this is so embarrassing, but could I possibly use yours to make a quick call? My roommate is out of town, and the codepad has been frozen for days. They promised to fix it today, but clearly…” Junmyeon trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the broken world.
You took in his plight, thinking he had the worst luck imaginable. A wave of sympathy overrode your panic.
“Yes—of course,” you manage to say. You stepped back, swinging the door wide, ushering him into the warmth of your home. “Come in.”
As he stepped across the threshold, Junmyeon entered your apartment like a lost rabbit—all wide, apologetic eyes and hunched shoulders. The strong, sweet smell in your apartment and the mixing bowls stacked by the sink made Junmyeon feel bad about interrupting you.
“I’m so sorry, I feel terrible about barging in while you’re baking,” Junmyeon’s voice hushed as his eyes darted to the floor.
“Don’t worry about it,” you murmured, unlocking your phone and holding it out. “Here, just call whoever you need to call.”
“Thank you.”
Junmyeon took the phone, his fingers brushing yours, and he immediately dialed a number, holding the device to his ear. You watched his expression shift from hopeful anticipation to dull resignation with each passing minute. He tried three different locksmiths in quick succession.
“Hello? Yes, I’m locked out... it’s just my apartment... oh, I see. Okay. Thank you anyway,” he said into the phone, his tone flat before hanging up.
Junmyeon tried another number. “Hi, I have an emergency lockout at—” he paused, listening. A moment later, he winced. “Right. It’s Christmas. Of course. Have a good evening.”
Junmyeon finally let out a heavy, audible sigh, handing your phone back.
“Well,” he stated, running a hand through his slightly disheveled hair. “I’m officially stuck until at least eight or nine tomorrow morning.”
You left the phone on the table, considering his defeated posture. “You tried the emergency maintenance line for the building?”
“Yeah, they were the first call,” Junmyeon replied, shaking his head. “Got the recording. They only page the technician out for things like burst pipes or fire alarms tonight.” He looked genuinely miserable, glancing towards the closed door. “I’ll just wait in the hallway. Thank you. And again, I’m really sorry for bothering you.”
You didn’t like the thought of your new, handsome neighbor freezing on the carpeted floor for the next few hours.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said firmly. “It’s freezing in the hallway. And it’s still Christmas.” You were playing with the corner of your apron. “Look, I’m waiting for my friend Nat. We’re having dinner. You can wait here until the locksmith opens in the morning. At least it’s warm in here."
Junmyeon shook his head and tried to deny your offer immediately. “Oh, no, no. I bother you enough. I don’t wanna—"
But he was cut off by a jarring, insistent noise: the sharp, penetrating beeping of the oven timer.
“Hold that thought,” you muttered, and you spun around, running back toward the kitchen. The brownies were done. You snatched up a thick oven mitt, fumbling slightly in your haste.
When you reached the oven, you pulled the rack out quickly. As you strained to lift the heavy ceramic baking dish, the mitt shifted, and a patch of your exposed forearm scraped against the searing hot edge of the pan.
A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped your lips. Instantly, Junmyeon, who had been lingering nervously by the door, moved. His easy, panicked concern was evident as he crossed the small space in two swift strides.
“Are you okay?” he asked sharply, his voice losing all its previous awkward politeness. Junmyeon was at your side before you could even register the mild burn, leaving the small box aside.
He gently, but firmly, took the other edge of the pan. You felt his strong grip steady the heavy dish.
“Yes. It’s just—”
“Let me,” he instructed. Together, you carefully slid the hot baking dish out of the oven and onto the cooling rack you had prepared on the stove top.
Junmyeon’s concern was palpable. He gently released his grip on the pan, turning his attention to you. His eyes immediately fixed on the rapidly reddening patch of skin on your arm.
“That’s gonna hurt,” he observed, his brow furrowed. “We need to get some cold water on that.” Junmyeon took command immediately, taking your wrist and steering you toward the kitchen sink.
You let him guide you, feeling a dull throb bloom where the metal had seared your skin. Junmyeon turned on the faucet, adjusting the stream until the water was icy, then carefully positioned your arm beneath it, leaning against the counter, letting the water run over the burn. He remained close, his posture concerned but relaxed.
“You know,” Junmyeon murmured, his gaze fixed on your burn, “it’s always the silly little accidents that get you. I once tried to move a whole turkey at Thanksgiving without securing the tongs. It went everywhere.”
You snorted, a laugh escaping before you could stop it. “A turkey?”
“A magnificent, forty-dollar bird, splattered across my mother’s newly cleaned kitchen,” he confirmed, smiling slightly. “I thought she was going to disown me.”
Without realizing it, you were both laughing quietly together, the nervous energy replaced by a surprising comfort.
The shared laughter abruptly halted when the smell hit you.
“The pot!” you exclaimed, suddenly remembering the heavy cream and butter mixture you had left simmering on the back burner for the mushroom sauce.
You tried to bolt from the sink, but Junmyeon gently squeezed your arm, stopping your movement. “Wait, keep that under the water for another minute,” he insisted. “You let me in, I save your cream. Which burner is it?”
You pointed frantically. “The back one. Don’t let it scorch!”
Junmyeon strode over to the stove. You normally hated anyone messing with your precise kitchen setup, especially during holidays. But watching Junmyeon, you felt none of the usual anxiety. He moved with a practiced ease, turning off the heat, stirring the mixture gently with a wooden spoon, and testing it with a quick, decisive dip of his finger. He wasn’t messy at all.
Your gaze followed him, your curiosity overcoming the sting in your arm. “It was just a low simmer, but if it scorches now. It must be ruined. Please, turn the heat off completely.”
Junmyeon nodded quickly, his attention already on the stove. “Heat off, check. Now, where is the spoon for the taste test?”
“In the crock next to the sink,” you instructed, pointing with your uninjured hand. You instinctively moved away from the water, wiping your hand on your apron, and edged closer to the stove to monitor his technique.
Junmyeon picked up the spoon and stirred the thick liquid in the pot. You watched intently, stepping closer, your body pressed lightly against the edge of the counter. You needed to see if the bottom of the pot was clean.
“It’s not burned… yet,” Junmyeon confirmed. “Should I try it?”
“First scrape the bottom, make sure there’s no sticky layer,” you instructed, practically looking at tiptoes over his shoulder, peering into the pot. You were so focused on the sauce that you didn’t realize how small the gap between you two had become.
Junmyeon paused his stirring. He was holding the spoon, poised above the pot, and he slightly turned his head to look at you, needing to ask a question. “Does it need to be put into a different bowl, or—”
His question died in his throat. The moment he moved, the gap between you vanished. You felt the whisper of his breath against your temple, and your shoulder bumped against the solid warmth of his back. You could smell the scent of his cologne.
Your eyes snapped up to meet his, and you saw the flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes and the soft pink in his lips. Junmyeon was studying your features with the same focused intensity—the slight flush on your cheeks from the oven heat, the lingering surprise in your expression.
A strange, electric jolt ran between you, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in the pit of your stomach. For a fraction of a second that stretched into an eternity, neither of you moved.
Junmyeon’s eyes flickered down to your mouth, then quickly backed up to meet yours. He seemed to be leaning in, just fractionally, but enough to make your breathing hitch.
It was the sudden, jarring insistence of your cell phone—blaring from the table—that violently fractured the moment. The sound felt deafening in the silence of the kitchen. Both of you flinched, pulling back abruptly. He took a hasty step away from the counter, putting a necessary foot of space between you. He gripped the spoon tighter, looking utterly flustered.
“That... that’s probably your friend,” Junmyeon stated, his voice now tight and forced.
“Y-yes,” you managed, your voice a little shaky.
You hurried out of the kitchen, cheeks burning, your movements quick and jerky, eager to put distance between yourself and him.
“Hello? Nat, hey—”
You walked slowly back toward the kitchen, watching as Junmyeon swirled a spoon in the sauce and tasted it. He looked up at you with those big bunny eyes, his concern obvious.
“She can’t make it,” you explained, leaning against the door frame. “Work emergency. Nat’s a nurse, they got slammed.” You tucked your phone into your pocket, the full weight of the situation—a dinner for you and your attractive neighbor—suddenly hitting you.
Junmyeon stepped away from the sink. He looked at you, and the earlier tension was replaced by a kind of hesitant sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said genuinely. “That’s rough luck for Christmas.” He glanced toward the pot. “But we have a huge problem,” he announced. “The sauce is really nice, but the mushrooms are burned.”
You looked at him with big eyes, getting closer to look at the pot. You tried it, and he was right. “Oh… how—”
“I guess I can fix it with cheese,” Junmyeon suggested. “I mean, it’s my fault. I knocked when you were cooking.”
You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. I forgot the pot.” You looked at the brownie and nodded, trying to act positive. “Okay, plan b, then.”
“Plan b?”
“No dinner,” you met his gaze. “Just... a lot of brownies.” You announced, curving your lips.
Junmyeon chuckled softly and nodded. You watched as he walked back toward the counter. He picked up the box, carried it back to you, and carefully peeled back the tape. Inside, nestled on a bed of tissue paper, were a half-dozen shimmering French macarons—pale pink, pistachio green, and deep lavender.
You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Are you serious?” you asked, still chuckling. “You were planning to eat macarons for dinner?”
Junmyeon laughed too, sounding genuinely ashamed. He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s worse. I was actually thinking of making ramen and having these for dessert.”
Your laughter softened into a genuinely warm smile. “Ramen and macaron Christmas dinner,” you mused.
You found his sincerity and his willingness to admit his slightly ridiculous dinner plan incredibly attractive.
“Well,” you said, turning back toward your kitchen counter. You rummaged through a storage bin and pulled out two bags of instant ramen.
Junmyeon’s eyes widened when he saw them, and a wide, genuine grin finally broke through his reserved demeanor. He let out a loud, relieved laugh. “You’re kidding me,” he exclaimed.
“So, two servings of ramen, brownies, and fancy French desserts?” you offered.
“That sounds like the best backup plan ever!” Junmyeon admitted, leaving the macaron box carefully on the shelf. “I know this is a huge imposition, but can I make my own recipe? It’s better than the standard instructions, I promise.”
You hesitated for a split second, feeling the instinctive urge to guard your cooking space. But the warmth of his smile and the collaborative spirit of the evening won you over.
“Sure,” you relented with a playful roll of your eyes. “But if I find a single drop of broth on my floor, you’re cleaning it up.”
“Deal!” he said, already moving confidently toward the kitchen.
Minutes later, you were seated across from Junmyeon at your small dining table. The steaming bowls of his specialty ramen sat between you, emitting a savory steam that cut through the lingering scent of chocolate.
You both shared a comfortable, easy laugh while you ate. Junmyeon was recounting a series of increasingly absurd misfortunes that had befallen him in recent memory—all delivered with a self-deprecating humor that made him even more charming.
You laughed so hard you had to set down your chopsticks. “You completely destroyed your string lights with a cork?”
“Unfortunately,” Junmyeon confirmed, wincing playfully. “My landlord didn’t like it. I spent the rest of the night sorting out a very expensive insurance claim.”
“You really do have the worst luck,” you observed, shaking your head, a genuine smile plastered on your face.
“It’s a talent,” he agreed, taking another bite. “It means I learn to appreciate the small victories, like finding a pretty neighbor with delicious brownies. Honestly, thank you. This is far better than shivering in the hallway.”
“It’s my pleasure,” you replied, slightly flustered by the pretty neighbor part. You realized how completely at ease you felt. “The ramen is really good, though!”
As you finished your ramen, the comfort stretched, but you were curious about his solitary dinner plan.
“You mentioned your roommate is with his family,” you began, gesturing with your bowl. “Why were you planning to eat ramen alone on Christmas night? Did your mother really disown you for that poor turkey?”
Junmyeon laughed at your question, leaning back slightly in his chair. “No, no. My parents finally took this massive trip they’d been planning for years. They were ecstatic, so I was happy for them.” He smiled wistfully. “And I just preferred to stay here, catch up on some rest, maybe watch a terrible movie.” He gave a wry glance toward the door. “I never thought that I’d be locked out.”
Junmyeon’s answer was honest and straightforward. He wasn’t sad or lonely, just stranded.
He turned the question back to you, his eyes steady and interested. “What about you? You were only having dinner with Nat?”
“Yes.” You stirred the remnants of your broth. This was a topic you usually kept brief. “My parents don’t live here,” you explained simply. “We’re not particularly close, and haven’t celebrated holidays together in a long time.” You gave a small, genuine smile. “We’ve been best friends since high school, so she always makes sure I don’t spend Christmas alone.”
“That’s nice,” Junmyeon said quietly, genuinely understanding. “It’s good to have that kind of anchor.”
You finished the last bite of a brownie, wiping a smear of chocolate from your finger, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“Oh,” you commented softly. “It’s almost midnight.”
Junmyeon instantly stiffened. The relaxed comfort drained from his posture, replaced by a returning sense of obligation. He pushed back from the table.
“Right. You must be exhausted!” he said, gathering the empty macaron box. “You should rest. Thank you so much for everything. I should leave now.” Junmyeon was practically preparing himself to leave.
“You can stay!” you rushed to say, standing up. You moved quickly toward him as he collected his jacket from the back of the chair.
“I feel bad enough keeping you up this late,” Junmyeon insisted, already halfway toward the front door. “Thank you again!”
You followed him, your heart sinking with every step he took toward the exit. It wasn’t just that you didn’t want to be alone after the strange, quiet comfort of the evening. It was him you didn’t want to lose to the cold hallway.
“It’s okay,” you insisted, rushing past him toward the door. You pressed your back against the wood, blocking his exit. You searched for an excuse. “The hallway is genuinely cold. And it’s really dark out there. And I haven’t told you about my… family situation.”
It was a flimsy lie, but it stopped him. Junmyeon halted right in front of you, surprised by your sudden, protective stance.
“Are you okay?” Junmyeon’s voice was filled with concern. “You don’t have to if it’s hard for you.”
You looked up at him. Your excuse faded away, and all that was left was the truth: you simply didn’t want him to go. You were standing toe-to-toe now, the dense tension returning with a hundredfold force. The light from the ceiling cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the worry in his eyes.
“It’s not…” Your words died in your throat, leaving your lips barely parted.
Junmyeon just looked at you, and the air between you began to spark. It was a sudden, overwhelming surge of feeling—something neither of you had felt before—a powerful, electric awareness that was impossible to ignore. His gaze dropped to your lips, again. It wasn’t a thought, it was an impulse. You lifted your hands, quickly cupping his cheeks, and you leaned in, pressing your mouth against his.
The kiss was soft, tentative—a mere breath of contact. Junmyeon didn’t pull away. He didn’t move to stop you. He instantly softened into the touch, his hands coming up slowly to rest on your waist, pulling you firmly against him.
His lips were warm, soft, moving slowly, but the realization made you break the kiss quickly, pulling back just enough to see his reaction, your chest heaving.
The apology spilling out of you, driven by shock at your own sudden boldness. “I-I’m so sorry—”
Before the last syllable left your lips, Junmyeon kissed you again.
This time, the kiss was different. It was deep, consuming, and full of the hunger that had been simmering between you since the kitchen incident. He shifted his grip, one hand anchoring the back of your head as he deepened the embrace, pouring all the frustration, gratitude, and unexpected attraction of the evening into the connection.
When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.
“I was trying to leave exactly because of this,” Junmyeon murmured, his voice a low, rough rumble. He opened his eyes, which were dark and intense. “I wanted to kiss you since you didn’t stop talking about your brownie recipe.”
You couldn’t help but let out a soft, delighted chuckle. His honesty was devastating. You offered another kiss, pulling his mouth back down to yours. This time, you initiated the movement. Your hands moved from his jaw to the back of his neck, leading him away from the front door, backing up, steering him in the clear direction of your room.
Junmyeon followed, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. As you broke away to open the bedroom door, he let out a low groan—a sound of raw desire and disbelief. “Are you sure?” His voice thick, his eyes searching yours with one last flash of protective concern.
“Yes.” You confirmed it with a look—a confident, steady gaze that told him there was nothing else you wanted in the world at that moment.
You pulled Junmyeon across the threshold, and the rest of your apartment ceased to exist. Both of you left your clothes behind, scattering a trail of discarded fabric from the doorway to the bed. Junmyeon’s movements were initially deliberate and gentle, full of a protective tenderness. He kissed you with a reverence that made your head spin, his hands exploring your skin with slow, careful strokes.
But your sudden, fierce desperation fueled him. You didn’t want slow; you wanted the total consumption that matched the hunger you’d felt. You deepened the kisses, and he responded instantly, the gentleness giving way to a more demanding, hungry passion.
In between breathless kisses, his mouth found your ear, and he whispered, “You’re beautiful.” His hands traced the curve of your waist, moving upward.
You gasped as he kissed your neck, pulling him closer. “Make me yours,” you managed, gripping his dark hair. “Please.”
“I just needed to hear that,” he breathed. His voice was thick with emotion as he looked into your eyes.
In bed, the cool sheets were a pleasant contrast to the heat rising between your legs. Junmyeon moved over you, his naked weight welcome and solid, and there was only the sounds of shared breaths and soft moans.
Junmyeon’s mouth was led by an intense focus and praising whispers against your skin. His lips moved with exquisite reverence, tracing the delicate curve of your neck, lingering briefly before moving downward. His kisses were wet and hot as they followed the path of your collarbone, moving across your tits, down your ribs and over your abdomen.
“So fucking perfect,” Junmyeon panted over your skin, gently moving your panties aside. “Lemme take care of you, beautiful.” His breath between your inner thighs made you shiver.
The moment his tongue found your folds, a stunning jolt of electricity shot through you. You gasped loudly, your voice tight with pleasure. “Oh—Junmyeon,” you cried out, your fingers instantly finding his hair, holding him close.
“God,” he moaned, completely drunk. “You taste so damn good.”
The hunger wasn’t only in his voice; the way he ate you out was something you’ve never felt before. His tongue was lapping you up and down, and instinctively, your hips started bucking against his face, making him moan in a nasty way that vibrated in your pussy.
“Junmyeon!” you cried out in pure pleasure while you felt his nose pressing hard on your clit.
His hands began their upward journey, sliding along your hips to cup your tits. The dual sensation was intoxicating. As he circled your nipples, you let out a moan, arching your back into his touch.
“Yes—don’t stop,” you commanded breathlessly, gripping his hair tighter.
Junmyeon’s voice was rough with triumph and pleasure, muffled. “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”
You sought his other hand, clutching his fingers tight, a desperate, non-verbal plea for this intensity to continue. He squeezed back, responding with increased focus and devotion.
“You have no idea,” Junmyeon panted, struggling for air, “how much I wanted this.”
His nose brushed your clit, a warm, rough friction that momentarily drove you wild, before that very spot was trapped and covered by his demanding lips and sucking. Then his tongue—precise and insistent—curled inside your slit, every movement triggering a fresh wave of blinding need.
“Ah—Jun—” you cried out, your body arching off the mattress.
He pressed into you, his tongue a hot, urgent presence against your clit, until every thought was obliterated by the pure, escalating physical need. The build-up was magnificent, agonizing, and perfect.
“Gimme that, beautiful.”
You cried out his name again as the orgasm hit—a shattering, complete release that left you trembling and gasping, sinking back into the pillows utterly spent. You felt his mouth cleaning your juices as you spasmed, and then, Junmyeon shifted his focus, moving upward with a trail of searing kisses.
He found your gaze, his lips and chin were bright, and his eyes full of lust. When he captured your mouth, you moaned in response, capturing him in a demanding, breathless embrace, tasting yourself on his tongue.
“I want you,” you murmured urgently against his mouth, your voice thick with the desperate need for him to take you fully. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, his eyes dark and searching. “I’m on the pill,” you added quickly, and his hesitation instantly broke.
Junmyeon captured your lips again. He tried to shift his weight slightly, leaning onto his elbows, but you didn’t want him to carry his weight; you wanted to feel him completely. He let out a low, urgent groan at your immediate, fierce urgency. You weren’t going to let him hesitate; you wouldn’t let him contain himself. You simply tightened your hold, clinging to him.
“You’re gonna kill me,” Junmyeon growled.
“Jun…” you whimpered, “just fuck me.”
Junmyeon groaned and devoured your mouth, his tongue plunging in with the same urgency you had demanded. You moaned into the kiss, your thighs separating wide to welcome him. He lifted himself just enough, and then, slowly, reverently, he slid his cock inside your cunt.
Both of you gasped at the exquisite invasion. Junmyeon moved, slow and deep, a sound of profound satisfaction escaping his throat. The moment of hesitation was long gone; now there was only pure, unbridled connection.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his eyes blazing, a combination of passion and astonishment written across his face.
You obeyed, clinging to his shoulders, your legs locked around his waist. You felt the raw neediness reflected in his movements, matching the intensity you had shown him all night.
Junmyeon drove into you, deep and fast, pulling a long, shuddering moan from your throat. “You’re so beautiful,” he gasped, his skin slick with sweat, his breath ragged in your ear. “So perfect.”
“You are—” you managed, the words catching in your throat as your pleasure mounted. You held him tighter, every muscle in your body focused on his rhythm.
“Say my name, baby,” Junmyeon urged, his hands gripping your hips, controlling the deep, powerful angle of every thrust. “Please—I need it.”
“Junmy—oh!” you cried out, desperate, shooting your eyes.
He slowed, then accelerated, a deliberate tease. “You’re absolutely everything I needed tonight.” Junmyeon leaned down to kiss your neck, his weight pressing you deeper into the mattress.
You felt the tension coiling tight in your core, your internal muscles clenching around him with every movement. His hungry mouth was sucking deliberately on your skin, and then he was biting you.
“Yes!” Your voice strained with escalating pleasure. You moved against him, trying to push him faster, needing the final rush. “Jun—please!”
Junmyeon responded to your urgency with a final, magnificent series of powerful thrusts. His breath hitched, his eyes closing tight in ecstasy. “I’m there, beautiful—I’m coming,” he groaned, his body shuddering violently as he poured himself into you.
You cried out, meeting his intensity with your second orgasm, the final, explosive moments blurring into a single, profound sensation of mutual satisfaction. You convulsed around him, completely consumed. Junmyeon collapsed onto you, heavy and spent, burying his face in the curve of your neck. You simply held him, clinging to the sweaty, solid warmth of his body, both of you breathing hard.
With a soft sigh, Junmyeon shifted his weight, pulling out, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him. His arm wrapped around your waist, your bodies still slick and tangled. You looked at him, your gaze soft and filled with astonished affection. You lifted your head to give him a soft peck that was pure tenderness, making him smile.
It was in that quiet moment that you realized the residual intensity hadn’t fully faded. You were still sensitive, still buzzing, and the feel of his skin against yours—and the sudden, unmistakable sensation of his cock already hard again, twitching against your clit was the invitation you needed.
You lifted your weight, settling yourself astride his hips, straddling him, your body still not fully connected, but positioned perfectly. You began to move your hips in a slow, circular torturing tease. The exquisite friction of his hardness against your clit pulled an immediate, deep groan from him.
“Oh, you’re going to ruin me,” Junmyeon’s eyes half-closed in pleasure with a grin as he gripped your waist, anchoring you to his body. “You’re a menace.”
You leaned down. “You want me to stop?” you purred, brushing your lips against his ear, maintaining the deliberate rhythm.
“No way.” He leaned in, his hands immediately moved, making sure your cunt was perfectly aligned over his thick cock. And then, his lips ended up against your jaw, moving his hips slowly, making sure you felt every bit of his length.
You accelerated your movements in a mad rhythm. He gripped your ass, lifting and tilting you to control the depth, and you responded with a soundless cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
“Fuck—” he choked out, his voice a low growl of pure physical appreciation. “You feel so good, beautiful.”
You clung to his shoulders, your legs locked around his waist, riding the powerful, grinding thrusts. You drove your hips in tight, mesmerizing circles. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming, and you felt yourself clench tightly around his cock, an involuntary, rhythmic tightening that drove him further over the edge.
“Ah—yes, yes, Jun!” you chanted involuntarily, feeling the familiar coiling inside.
Junmyeon reacted to your internal grip with a sudden, overwhelming surge of passion. One hand abandoned your ass and shot up to grip the back of your neck, hard and possessive, pulling your mouth down to meet his messy, consuming kiss.
“Babe,” he groaned into your mouth, his tongue battling yours. “Together.”
You gasped for air, nodding frenetically at his petition. Junmyeon moved faster, his grip on your neck guiding your head back as his hips hammered into yours. The immense pressure built to an unbearable point of exquisite sensation, making your body tremble.
“I’m so close,” Junmyeon warned, his eyes closing, his face contorted with final pleasure. “Now.”
You wrapped your arms around him, convulsing, your mind utterly blank, consumed by the satisfaction as he moaned your name like a prayer. Junmyeon came inside, while the tremors on his cock led you to your own orgasm. He buried his face in your shoulder, finally falling still and heavy on his back.
His arm clamped around your waist and your back, pulling you tightly against his chest, his breath warm on your temple. You were both completely soaked and messy, your skin sticky with sweat and arousal, but neither of you moved to find a towel or to pull out. The exhausted intimacy was too perfect to interrupt. You settled, fitting perfectly into his chest.
A few minutes passed in deep, contented silence, marked only by the slowing rhythm of your hearts. Then, he slowly pulled out.
You finally managed a weak, satisfied sigh. “I’m never gonna be able to look at ramen and macarons the same way again,” you murmured, your voice husky.
Junmyeon chuckled softly against your hair. “I should have forgotten my key last week,” he retorted, squeezing you tighter.
“Oh, you should.” You giggled softly, trying to hide on his neck. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth and safety of his arms around you. “I didn’t know I had a soft spot for a handsome, unlucky stranger.”
Junmyeon immediately stiffened with mock offense, then burst into a throaty, delighted chuckle. “Wait, wait, wait,” he teased, trying to move his body to see your face. When he stared intently at you, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “So, you risked your safety, your peaceful night, and your very delicious brownies because you found me handsome? Not because I was helpless?”
You swatted playfully at his chest, burying your face in his neck, already feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Be quiet! I was being nice!”
“Oh no, no backing out now,” Junmyeon insisted with amusement. He reached out and gently tilted your chin so you had to look at him. “Your hospitality wasn’t because I might die frozen?” He asked, faking an offended tone.
You couldn’t help but flush even more, the heat spreading from your neck all the way to your hairline. “I said unlucky, too,” you mumbled, trying to look anywhere but at his face. “The unlucky part was more important!” you whined. “And you weren’t shivering!”
“Oh… I was.” Junmyeon acted dramatically. “I was this close,” he gestured with his own hands, “to beg that you let me sleep on the floor. Your apartment is warmer than mine!”
You just laugh at his nonsense, feeling completely comfortable in his arms. “Whatever you say, 4B.” You sighed, exhausted, letting the residual warmth and the faint, musky scent of him relax you.
“Now you memorize my door number…” Junmyeon drawled, his smile widening.
“You live next door!” you whined again, unable to hide your smile. “Also, didn’t your mom warn you about not following strangers?”
Junmyeon’s chest vibrated a little with his soft laugh. “Oh, she did.” His thumb traced the curve of your hip. “But I saw you two days ago. I was very close to asking for a date.”
“Close?” You mocked. “You almost crumbled when I opened the door.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” he fought back in a sulky tone. “I didn’t know you looked that pretty covered in flour,”
Just by hearing him, the color in your cheeks bloomed. “Shut up...” You covered your face with your palm, but he leaned in and looked for your eyes, taking your hand to intertwine it with his.
“Can we go on a date then?”
You took a moment to process his question while he was kissing the burning mark in your forearm. “I’ll think about it.” You tried to hide that smile from your face. “We should sleep.”
He couldn’t hide his smile. That was a win for Junmyeon, or he thought that.
“Fine,” he muttered, taking your hand closer to his cheek. He closed his eyes, his arm was tightening possessively around you. “But only because I’m too exhausted. I mean… you drained me.”
“Junmyeon!” You could feel your cheeks burning at his word, but that silly smile kept on your lips through his laughter. “Sleep! Now!”
✧˚ ⋆｡˚ #madeinmyeon masterlist | advent calendar Ი︵𐑼
