#you've no idea how many somno fics i had to read to be able to write this

[puppyeji]

taste | hwang yeji

TYPE: smut, one shot, idol x reader, fem!idol x fem!reader, short

CONTENT: g!p yeji, blowjobs, cum swallowing, handjobs, subby!yeji, nerdy!yeji, reader's a bit mean to her

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, somnophilia, mean!reader

SUMMARY: yeji was the perfect roommate: she was quiet, organized and slept or studied all day, so she never inconvenienced you. you wake up one day because she can't stop whining in her sleep, clearly bothered by something, and when you see what that something is, you decide to take care of it for her.

WORDS: 2.3k

you've been living with yeji for a few months now. you two met a while ago when you were looking around the neighborhood for cheap places close to your university and you saw each other. the two of you had taken interest in the same apartment and made a deal to split the rent in half and share it.

she was the perfect roommate: you went out at night and came back at morning, ready to sleep until you had to wake up for your classes. meanwhile, she slept all night and left early in the morning for her classes, so you barely bumped into each other and never had any inconveniences. yeji is polite and clean, always keeps her room organized and never complains about yours.

there was just this one thing.

yeji seemed to be having night terrors lately. or something.

your head was killing you and you still had to prepare for an exam in four days so you decided to stay inside tonight, which meant you were at home at the same time yeji was. this was no problem, of course, cause yeji was soundly asleep like always.

but she seemed restless. she was in bed, groaning, tossing and turning around, until she was finally on her stomach, twitching and whimpering. you could hear this from your own room —your walls weren't very thick—, so you decided to go check on her. it was the least you could do, right?

her room was pitch dark, so when you tried to look at her face you had to squint various times, but you could finally tell the shapes of her body from the fabric of the sheets: her long brunette hair was messy, you could see she was wearing some pajama with cute little hearts, which was so childish that you chuckled from second hand embarrassment.

you sat up among the sheets and glimpsed at her face: yeji didn't look like she was sleeping well. she looked uneasy. as you wondered why, she tossed around and turned on her back. you had to be careful, you don't want to wake her up yet. then out of nowhere, yeji whimpers in the dark, startling the fuck out of you.

maybe she's having a nightmare?

you noticed that her breath was a little heavy. perhaps she's sick?

you checked, putting your hand on her forehead and moving away the strands of hair that were sticking to her forehead with sweat. she seemed a bit hot.

yeji makes another sound. it sounds like a cry, and you immediately conclude that she's having nightmares. what could possibly be bothering the girl?

surely it wasn't...

another groan leaves yeji pouty lips again, attracting your attention.

yeji was still tossing and turning, her face glistening with sweat in the dark, so you sigh, deciding to uncover the girl to lower her body temperature. then you pause.

something hard was in underneath the covers, on top of her tummy.

you didn't notice it at first because your eyes hadn't gotten used to the darkness yet, but there was definitely something there.

then, you raised the covers, a bit unsure of what to do. and when you see it you gasp, a smile forming on your face as you try not to laugh out loud.

"oh my..." you cover your mouth with your hand, still fighting the stream of giggles that were threatening to come out at the sight in front of you.

yeji was rock hard. so hard, in fact, that her cock was peaking out of the elastic bands of both her pajama shorts and boxers. the tip of her dick looking very blushed, and positively leaking above the skin of her stomach.

the poor girl was so timid and introverted, she probably never went on dates, let alone hooked up with anyone, which explained why she was so frustrated and pent up.

you take a deep breath, torn between tucking her back and leaving her alone, with a boner unattended, or waking her up to tell her she needed to take care of it so you could both sleep.

those were your only options, right?

you possibly couldn't just...

it was kinda… cute. like the rest of her, after all. you stare at her face to make sure she's still asleep, finding her troubled expressions also still there, hard breathing through her parted lips, making the cupid's bow on her top lip stand out more.

you feel heat coiling at the bottom of your abdomen.

now it's your turn to groan. there's no fucking way. getting all worked up over something like this…

another moan caughts your attention once again: with each of yeji's deep breaths, her abdomen rose, making the flaming tip stroke against both skin and fabric. you find yourself staring harder than you should. there was no point in denying it, your cunt was pulsing needily, undeniably wet.

waking her up is out of the question now, you don't trust your own voice not to be hoarse and groggy. knowing how shy the girl was, she'd also probably start crying like a baby, and then she'd be so traumatized by it that she wouldn't be able to look at you in the face ever again, and she'd move out.

yeji moans, hard enough to startle you.

apparently your hand was on top of it now. huh. wonder how it got there.

you caress it over the thin fabric, out of curiosity, and yeji responds modestly by moaning even louder, and this time you can't stop yourself from squeezing it and biting your lip at the throbbing you felt through her dick.

you can't go back to sleep like this. neither can yeji. she probably wouldn't stop moaning and groaning, and one of the neighbors might hear. fuck.

the sadistic side of you thinks about waking her up and making her feel all the terrible embarassment. then you consider having her wake up, and laugh at her, seeing her eyes full of tears, and her struggle to cover her hard-on with both of her hands, only to realize she had a part of her dick poking out and you'd already seen it.

you're not that cruel, though. and you stop fantasizing about it because she interrupts your thoughts. she's really not shutting the fuck up and keeps whining and moaning.

alright. putting it back it's impossible. it looks way too stiff and sensitive. it also doesn't fit inside if it's hard. so putting it out it is.

you breathe in order to calm down, reaching for the elastic bands while being careful not to touch her dick.

once her pants and boxers are lowered, you observe her with a mix of emotions: well. she's more... well endowed... than you expected. not that you expected anything. of course. she's a loser, it's not like you've ever thought of sucking her off while she's in the middle of a studying session. she was lucky you were even helping her in the first place.

some of her brunette hair was stuck to her open lips, with every breath she let go of an almost inaudible whine, her long lashes fluttered but never really opened, her pale skin displayed in contrast of the dark sheets in her bed, and the clenching of her stomach anytime she groaned made the muscles there tense and show how well defined her abs were.

fuck it.

how come she always looks like a total mess and right now she suddenly looks this fine? those awful glasses finally off of her, allowing you to see her pretty features and and the cute mole on her nose.

the raw scent of her arousal was filling the air. you didn't know whether it came from between your own legs or from yeji's, which only made it worse. the mixed smell of it almost made you think about giving in and waking her up, begging her to fuck you.

fuck. maybe touching her would be enough?

after all you deserve some fun too… right? yeji can't be the only one enjoying it.

just a little. it's not like she'd know.

your finger-tips meet her flesh. she whimpers, harder, and lower. so you don't even think about it before covering her mouth, her warm breathing hitting against your fingers, making you so much wetter when the thought of introducing one digit in crosses your mind.

her cock was much warmer, and much harder than it looked. you moved your whole hand.

fuck.

you know you shouldn't, you know. and yet, before you realize, you grasped her flesh in your hand and started to stroke.

gentle at first, then a little more firm. yeji's blood ushers down clearly to answer your movements: she gets impossibly harder and a drop of precum stains your hand. this fucking loser is so close already, you chuckled under your breath. pathetic.

the shy girl who couldn't even order a pizza through the phone on her own without stuttering was dripping semen on your hand while you gave her a handjob. she was rock hard as well, the tip was crimson even in the darkness, the thick veins were so noticeable and the shaft was big, so big that it didn't fit in your hand.

fuck. it would probably stretch you out so bad. and a part of you wants to know how badly.

but her moans become more gruttural. the fucker was still sleeping, but she was enjoying it, no doubt about it, and you were enjoying it almost as much as her. you close your legs, realizing how much wetter you've gotten. your panties are soaked through by now.

yeji looked like she was about to climax: her hips no longer still, instead she was now steadily fucking herself into your hand, rubbing the skin of the sensitive head against the hole of your fist, savoring what was probably the first handjob she was given in a very long time, if not ever. you decide to give her a bit more of pleasure, leaning down and spitting on her tip, and the sounds she makes are the best fucking thing you've ever head. she's so grateful about the extra lubrication, her cries getting so high and needy.

a bit of fear runs through you. what if yeji wakes up and finds you like this? knowing you should probably stop made the adrenaline in your body spike up, making you whine and close your legs tightly.

also you want to see for yourself. what does little nerdy, bookworm yeji looks like when she's cumming? what would it feel like if she spilled against your hand, shooting ropes of thick cum between your fingers, leaving them sticky and wet?

fuck, what does yeji taste like?

the question popping in your mind makes an immediate idea appear, the exact moment you recall that if yeji cums now she'd make a mess unless you find a napkin or something where she could finish.

then your hand goes faster and faster, the slick noises get louder.

you even fantasize for a bit about what would happen if yeji woke up with your face this close to her dick, maybe she'd grab your head and force your throat down her cock, bottoming out inside your tight mouth, warm and ready for her to fuck and unload her cum on it.

when yeji starts to shake, you bend your head, tucking the loose strands of your hair behind your ear.

your lips feel the first warm, thick spurts, and you realize you got the timing wrong, so you open your mouth quickly to welcome the rest. yeji is far too big to take in, but you still get to enjoy the warmth of her pulsating cock, the wetness of your tongue offering some delicious relief to the heat of her cockhead before being drowned in more cum, the strong taste of it being the first thing you feel. yeji didn't touch herself. yeji didn't have sex, damn, she probably didn't even get to finish while having these wet dreams. bearing that in mind, it made sense that she'd cum this much, and this thick. the heavy substance started to drip from the corners of your mouth and you had to get your hands up and under your chin in order to avoid spilling it on her covers.

you cough a little. it's a bit sick but the thought of being the one offering comfort to her in this way makes you strangely turned on.

this is disgusting, is what you should probably think. you weren't even a big fan of giving head, but the pleasure you got from tasting yeji was overwhelming.

you feel the taste of it for a bit more before swallowing, deciding it's a bit too weird to keep playing with it in your mouth if yeji's not even awake for you to give a show. then you wipe the corners of your mouth with your hands, not wasting any of it, also bringing your fingers to your mouth and licking.

how come you didn't even get to orgasm but you were still left panting and sweaty?

you laugh under your breath. yeji was still sleeping.

unbelievable.

her dick was now beginning to soften. now it was cuter.

you take a final look to the girl sleeping in her bed. a relaxed expression finally blooming on her face, all thanks to you.

then she begins to stir.

okay, that's your cue to go.

before you can mess up you quickly cover her lower body with the sheets, and leave, shutting the door softly enough to prevent any sound from leaking out.

you go back to your room and decide to sleep, both your exam and your headache long forgotten, and the throbbing between your legs unbearable, but you couldn't possibly touch yourself. that wouldn't satisfy you, that's not what you craved. what you craved was in the other room, sleeping peacefully after cumming in your mouth.

the next morning you wake up, going to the kitchen and seeing yeji having breakfast all by her own. if yeji realized her pants and boxers were lower than they were when she went to bed she doesn't mention it or asks about it.

she does blushes to her ears when you pass next to her, though. and you see her covers and sheets in the dirty laundry basket when you go to the laundry room later that afternoon.

you think to yourself you got lucky it didn't end any other way. still, you know you won't ever be able to forget about her taste.

maybe yeji wouldn't mind if you paid her another nightly visit?

[apprenticestanheight]

THE FIVE DAYS OF SMUTMAS QUEUE: DAY THREE

Somno - Peter Strahm x gn! reader

Allllllll right, we are on to day three of this event and despite the fact that I never really write this many fics in less than a week unless motivation has come around and hyped me to a point where I'm capable of doing it across two days, I am still chuggin on and to be honest, the concept for this fic is largely what's kept me from going down the demotivated slope.

I have had a very not great last two months of the year and so body worship with peter strahm and a touch of angst with hurt/comfort it is, because I needed to write this idea out and figured this event would be a good opportunity lol.

Last note before this fic begins, this fic is meant for audiences of 18+! Minors, do not interact.

Fic type- this is smut and hurt/comfort

Warnings- somnophilia, oral (afab recieving), there is one mention of trauma/anxiety induced insomnia, and the reader is gn for all intents and purposes, but I went with an AFAB reader as that's the anatomy I know best, and this is edited but barely bc I wanted to post oops.

Peter is all too aware of how rough the last few months have been for you.

Granted, you've not said a word of it because you'd sooner see hell than let anyone know when you're going through a rough spot, but since your relationship has begun, Peter has learned to look for the subtle tells you display whenever you feel like your life is about to start falling apart.

Peter is something of a chronic insomniac because of how the on-call schedule of his work with the Jigsaw case has impacted his sleeping capabilities, and so he's used to staying awake for hours on end in case he gets a phone call from someone at the Jersey precinct.

You, however, work a decent and consistent job as a cleaner that pays more than well. You have a set of routines—you wake up at six thirty every morning, make a steaming mug of chai from the K-Cups you adore, eat an easy breakfast and a cliff bar on your way out of the house.

You're at work from seven-thirty in the morning to six thirty most nights, come home and do whatever needs doing around the apartment that you and Peter share, and you watch TV or read until Peter comes home and the two of you order dinner.

You always go to bed sooner than Peter does, typically going to bed somewhere around eleven or midnight where the earliest Peter goes to sleep is one, and then you wake up the next morning and your cycle repeats.

However, since September, whenever Peter has come to bed, you've still been awake, even if it's three or four in the morning. The chai you made with the K-Cups you adore has turned into a steaming cup of coffee that you have to sweeten with brown sugar, honey, and sometimes maple syrup to be able to tolerate.

You're at work from seven am to nine or ten most nights now, and by the time you're home, the housework has been looked after because Peters hired a cleaning lady to come by the house and make sure the house stays clean once every four or five days.

You come home and Peter tries to get you to smile but nothing really does the trick. Peter finds that he misses you, wants to try to goad you into talking it out with him but knows from too many attempts to do so that it absolutely will not work.

But, when he comes home on the 22nd at 7:30, a rarely early time for him get home as the stuff with Jigsaw has progressed, he's completely and utterly shocked to see you sitting on the couch in your living room.

When he closes the door, your gaze snaps to his.

"I owe you an apology," you say. "I've been very terrible at being a spouse the past few months. I shouldn't've subjected you to that. I know I need to be better at communicating and I just feel awful because I've pretty much shut you out and I just—it's just not—it's not fair to you, Peter."

"It's all right, Y/N," he says. "I thought that something had happened, yeah? I figured you wanted space and I was going to give it to you until you decided you wanted closeness again. I know I get angry really quick and am frankly a little surprised I haven't snapped about it but I have worked on not snapping a lot since we started dating."

You've been married something like a decade. It took a lot of storming for Peter to reach the level of evenness, the level of calm, where he stood.

"Yeah, but I've been terrible," you laugh. Peter approaches, sits next to you on your couch. "I've not—it's not been fair, Pete. I haven't talked, I've worked myself almost to the bone, I don't eat breakfast like I used to—all of my routines have been thrown off by this, and I can't imagine how yours have been."

He wishes he could say that he was fine, completely unaffected by it, but to say that would be to lie right to your face, which is something he promised never to do in his wedding vows. He worried about you all the time, desperately wanted to ask you if you were okay and try to goad you into talking to him even though that had never, ever worked in his favor.

Peter grins at you. "I'm just glad you're okay, Y/N," he says. "Had me worried for a stretch, if I'm honest."

"I'm sorry to have worried you," you say. "I've just—work has been driving me mental. I took more hours to get a bit of a Christmas bonus on top of the bonus I get tomorrow to try to ease the mental stuff I've been dealing with and yeah, the cushy paycheck is great but fuck if I don't hate dealing with people during the holiday season. I have been yelled at about how spotless houses need to be more times than I can count."

Peter laughs. "You're the one who decided to go into the cleaning business," he says. You laugh a bit yourself, press your forehead against his shoulder.

"I know," you mumble sadly, a laugh trailing through your words. "But when I started, I'd really hoped I would spend less time talking to people, more time deep cleaning carpets while I had decent music playing through a Walkman. I do get to listen to music but the people are becoming more and more of an issue lately."

Peter presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're gonna take a bit of time off, mm? You definitely seem like you could use it."

"I booked it last night," you nod. "Tomorrow through til valentines day. I need the time to settle back into routines and I've been drinking coffee religiously—it's more than the one I drink here. I drink at least three cups a day just in the name of keeping myself upright and that needs to stop. I am beyond caffeine overdose. I can drink 600 miligrams a day and not feel a thing."

"That is definitely cause for concern," Peter laughs. "But I'm glad you're okay and that you're trying to get better. I've booked up until the New Year off so that I could catch up on sleep, too, but if we're both home, it means a lot of us time after Christmas. Still goin' up to New York?"

"My mother will put us to death if we don't," you laugh. Peter laughs.

For a solid few minutes, things really do feel like they'll be okay.

-

For what is probably the first time since before he was so much as a cop, Peter Strahm is asleep, you also asleep next to him in the bed that you share, at nine o'clock. He wakes up at six thirty from an unfortunately kinky dream and all he wants to do is part your legs and eat you out until he can't breathe.

Granted—you've spoken extensively about it before, and you've given him the okay to do it several times just as he has you, but still. The part of Peter that's turned on by the idea is equally matched by the part that kind of feels gross about it.

But then, approximately five minutes into unbearably loud thoughts about pulling down the sweatpants you'd stolen from him and parting your legs and devouring you, and five minutes away from just running to the bathroom and rubbing one out to the idea, he watches you press your face against the pillow and moan loud enough for him to hear it.

"Peter," you moan. "Fuck, feels so good."

Peters eyes nearly roll to the back of his head and he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from floating.

He tries to shake out his hands, tries to think of anything else while your quiet, desperate moans fill the air.

He thrums through the Jigsaw victims that've popped up in recent weeks, tries to think about something like the weather or the baseball scores or something to focus on anything but the fact that you're in the midst of a sex dream, one involving him, and the fact that you're moaning your way through it in a way that makes Peter want to lose his mind.

And then, you moan Peters name in a way that you know in your lucid moments drives him crazy, and Peter can't stop himself.

You've discussed it before, and Peters done it before, and every single time he's woken you up with his tongue rubbing wildly against your clit, you've moaned out and started rutting against his face and made a comment about how much you liked waking up to Peter bringing you to orgasm.

Peter is careful to remove the sweatpants you've taken from his drawer, lifting up the shirt you also stole and exposing some of your waist.

He licks a stripe through your folds, not at all surprised to find you're wet if the way that you're moaning from the dream is of any indication, and almost moans against your cunt right then and there.

He starts off slowly, licking stripes against your folds and drinking your wetness down his throat like it's water. Every single time you moan something within him flutters, and he knows it's been too long since he's taken his time with eating you out.

And then, as his tongue attaches to your clit, he feels one of your hands move to his hair.

"Best way to wake up ever," you whisper. "Oh, Peter. Thank you."

You sound half-asleep, but Peter moans against you and you tug on his hair encouragingly, so he keeps going.

He runs his tongue in circles over your clit, sliding a digit into your wet hole without a thought in the world, fighting a smirk when you moan and tug on his hair again.

He starts thrusting, sets a pace that has you writhing within minutes, and takes his fingers out in the last split second before you release, replacing his fingers with his tongue and lapping up your cum without thought, care, or merit. You thrust against his face in the aftershocks, moan as he gets up from his position.

He pulls you in for a kiss while you use one arm to amble through your nightstand for a condom, feeling Marks half-hard, clothed-but-only-by-flannel-pajama-pants length against your bare thigh.

You pull away only so that he can take his pants off, and you slide the condom on with care for how hard his cock is. He peppers your neck and jawline with kisses as he slowly thrusts into your sensitive folds, moaning as he bottoms out.

"I love you," he says to fill the silence while he waits for you to adjust.

"Thank you for dealing with me when I'm at my worst," you press a kiss to his cheekbone. "And for waking me up in the best way ever. Love it when you eat me out, Pete. You're so fucking good at it."

Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you squeeze his hips to tell him to start moving, and when he does, he sets a slow pace. Despite his fervency when it came to oral, he did intend to actually make it known that he did love you and wasn't always in it just to get you or himself to orgasm as quickly as possible.

His pace is slow indeed, but not slow enough that you're pretty much begging him to pick it up a little, and his thrusts are languid in a way that's perfect.

Both of you start moaning after a bit, and Peter, the guy who never moans and usually just likes hearing how you sound when you do, is moaning lewdly and loudly into the nape of your neck while you moan quietly near his ear.

"Peter," you moan. "Peter, fuck. You're so fucking good at this, yeah? You're treating me so well, baby. You're amazing."

Peter moans, clearly enjoying the praise, and you rut your hips against him.

"Fuck," he moans, picking up the pace just a little. "Fuck, Y/N. I love getting you so slick. You were dreaming about me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah. We were fucking at the precinct, in one of the storage closets."

Peter moves a hand to rub your clit, loving the moan that it brings out of you.

Minutes pass by of the same, and your release triggers Peters. You moan each others names as you come, and while you go pee to make sure you don't end up with a UTI, Peter pulls the condom off and trashes it, gets a bath going for the two of you.

In the bath, you talk of plans for the day, which will consist entirely of going to the shops together, reading books and doing last-minute christmas shopping.

All in all, you're happy that Peter woke you up with oral and Peter is happy that you're feeling okay enough to want to be woken up that way again.