𝑻’

fem!fuma who took the liberty of snoozing your alarm for twenty extra minutes this morning, keeping you caged in her arms way past the time you needed to be up and nearly making you late. 

fem!fuma who watched through her dark lashes, eyes heavy, as you scrambled to throw your work clothes on, skin still warm from where her leg had you pinned to the mattress. you thought that every item of clothing adhering to your workplace’s dress code was unflattering, but fuma didn’t have any problem peeling them off of you at the end of every day. “you’re so sexy in business casual,” she would tease, smoothing the wrinkles out of your tucked shirt. 

fem!fuma who took the day off and bragged for the entire week that she wasn’t going to get out of bed, that she was going to be so well-rested that you wouldn’t even recognize her. 

fem!fuma who was still in the bed when you left, buried under blankets and looking softer than ever, who begged you for a goodbye kiss but didn’t even try to sit up, forcing you to claw your way through the blankets to find her lips. 

fem!fuma who lazed around all day, bored out of her pretty little mind. she played games until her eyes went fuzzy, brain fully liquid in her skull, and she tried reading one of your books that you’d recommended to her many moons ago. but her eyes were still fuzzy and the words looked like little ants crawling around on the page. 

fem!fuma who missed you, even though you hadn’t been away that long. 

fem!fuma who rummaged through your closet, smelling your clothes and frowning because they smelled like laundry detergent, like april lilies and fresh rain, instead of like you. instead of your skin, your sweat. 

fem!fuma who stepped on something– your clothes from this morning, from last night. your cute, oversized t-shirt, crumpled and cold but, as she pressed it against her face, still lingering with the scent of your sleep. she sniffed at the collar, at the seams along the sleeves, humming to herself. 

fem!fuma who had a brilliant idea. 

fem!fuma who slipped the t-shirt over her head, letting it fall loosely on her shoulders and drape down over the front of her thighs, the fabric tickling her skin and soothing it at the same time. it wasn’t often she was able to swim in her clothing, most of her shirts clinging to the curves of her biceps, outlining the definition of her torso through the fabric. the shirt felt like an embrace, like a soft kiss to every inch of her skin. 

fem!fuma who cleaned her phone’s camera off with the bottom of the shirt and held it high above her head, snapping a photo of the shirt and her legs tangled in the messy blankets of the still unmade bed. 

fem!fuma who sent it to you without hesitation, adding an innocent message for you: 

[3:22 pm] fuu ᢉ𐭩: missing you (╥﹏╥)

fem!fuma who kicked her feet around in the blankets when you responded almost immediately, like you’d been waiting for her to text. 

[3:22 pm] you: sooooo cute in my shirt baby 

[3:23 pm] you: i’ll be home soon

[3:23 pm] you: don’t move i wanna cuddle asap 

fem!fuma who sent you another photo, this time with the hem of the shirt hiked up, material bunched in a fist and revealing the intricate lace of her panties underneath. 

[3:25 pm] fuu ᢉ𐭩: just wanna cuddle ? 

fem!fuma who turned her phone off and tossed it to the edge of the bed, snickering to herself as the notifications rolled in at record speed– fifteen responses from you over the course of an hour, the vibrations lulling fuma back to sleep, dreaming of you until she could have you physically there. 

fem!fuma who looked so peaceful when you got home; her hair was spiked up in seemingly every direction, mussed by the pillow she’d been laying on all day, just as she promised she would. fuma’s mouth was slightly agape, small snores tumbling out and landing right on your heart. 

fem!fuma who stirred, lightly, as you brushed the back of your hand over the flushed skin of her cheek, red from her many, many naps. you brushed her hair flat, smoothing her jagged silhouette, and she hummed, as if she were still dreaming. you couldn’t bite back the smile at the sight of her, unusually delicate in your shirt, the material twisted twice around her torso and hanging off her shoulder. 

fem!fuma who cracked one eye open when she felt the mattress dip beside her, a grin replacing her tranquil pout at the sight of your face across from hers and only getting wider when you asked, “all rested up?” 

fem!fuma who quipped back, “i was working on it,” she closed her eyes again, pulling the blanket up to her chin, “someone woke me up.” 

fem!fuma who adored how easily she got under your skin. her heart doubled in size every time you rolled your eyes at her, tripled when you let your annoyed exterior give way to a smile because you loved it, too. 

fem!fuma who apologized immediately by pulling you under the blanket with her, holding you impossibly close, so close that you could have slid under the tshirt with her. her skin was warm, unusually pliant, like worked clay, under the weight of your arms encircling her waist. everything about her lured you closer, your face buried in the soft material of her–  your– shirt. 

fem!fuma who still needed you closer. 

fem!fuma who gripped your hips with firm hands and situated you over her own, who giggled at the surprised sound that escaped you. your hands kept you steady, splayed flat on the rigid, toned contours of her stomach that the t-shirt all but erased. something unlocked inside of you at the sight of her; all of her edges were softened, her expression bright and mischievous. 

fem!fuma who watched every movement of your hands as you slid them under her shirt, raking your fingertips over every inch of her torso, fanning over her ribs and tracing the dips right above the pesky lace underwear she’d slipped on knowing they would drive you crazy. her voice shook, adrenaline buzzing low in her chest, as she asked, “what happened to cuddling?” 

fem!fuma whose mouth watered and stomach flipped and all the cliches as you replied with, “we’ll cuddle after i ruin these pretty little panties,” and leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss, one that said you’re never staying home alone again. 

fem!fuma who wasn’t used to you being so forward but was insanely turned on by how hungry you seemed, how you didn’t hesitate to prod your tongue against hers, relishing in the heat of her mouth and tangling your hands in her hair to keep your lips from parting for too long. she moaned against you, a gratifying whimper that only encouraged you; you sucked her plush bottom lip into your mouth, and she sank her fingertips into the flesh of your ass. 

fem!fuma who was only teasing earlier, playfully torturing you with the plump curves of her thighs against the dainty lace.

fem!fuma who now couldn't be sure that she wouldn't absolutely be sending you more pictures while you were apart, your hands shoving the excessive material of the t-shirt high above her chest and dragging your teeth over her hardened, budding nipple and soothing over the sensitive skin with a languid drag of your tongue. 

fem!fuma who felt herself dripping through the fabric, unusually needy and blaming it all on the way your eyes darkened as you leaned back up to press your lips to hers. you swallowed her gasp as you cupped her needy cunt over the top of the panties, the lace rough on your palm as you ground the heel of it down on her clit. 

fem!fuma who broke the kiss to curse, having worked herself up all day thinking about this very moment. she groaned, deep in her throat, rolling her hips harder against your hand. “take ‘em off,” she urged, punctuating the statement with a kiss. 

fem!fuma who whined when you shook your head, “too pretty in them. besides,” you tsked, “you didn’t have a problem wearing them earlier, hm?” 

fem!fuma who couldn’t complain when you finally slipped your hand down the front of her panties, the fabric keeping the heat of your hand closer to where she ached for you, confined between the scratchy lace and the soft tufts of hair that you adored. 

fem!fuma who made the most sinful noises as you collected her slick on your fingers, encircling her throbbing, tender clit. she was so responsive, gasping with every change in pressure and whimpering against your lips as you slid one finger, then two, inside of her. 

fem!fuma who sucked you in, physically, with your fingers gliding out of her as far as they could with the panties stretching out over the back of your hand, fingers sliding back in easier each time. the heat of her, the squeeze of her walls around your flexing digits, the swell of her exposed chest, the labored flexing of her core– it was everything you’d been dreaming of all day, miserable while she slept, unbothered. 

fem!fuma who didn’t even realize you were trying to get revenge, too drunk on the press of your thumb on her clit as you curled your fingers jsut right again and again, scraping against the eager flesh of her cunt. the sounds were so lewd, the wet squelch of her pussy mixed with the soft tearing of the fabric as your wrist bent to hit that spot inside of her you knew so well. every sound, however, ranked way below the way her delicious moans dwindled to a pathetic string of grunts and whines. 

fem!fuma who begged you not to stop, choking on her moans. “gonna come,” she warned, “gonna come on your fingers, baby. fuck, keep fucking me like that- im close.” 

fem!fuma who came unraveled on your fingers in a wave of turbulence, her thighs clenching around your hand as her hips jerked around you. her mouth fell open, but her throat was closed, suffocating her cries into short, muffled whines. her back arched, just enough to send your fingers deeper into her, rolling her hips as you fucked her through her orgasm.

fem!fuma who wrapped her fingers around your wrist as you kept fucking her through her orgasm and then some, moans turning desperate from the overwhelming sensation of your thumb still bristling against her spent clit, fingertips still dragging relentlessly along her sensitive walls. 

fem!fuma who squeezed her eyes shut, reeling in the shift in the angle as you finally yanked the cute, lacy panties down her thighs, driving your fingers up, deeper into her. you feathered your fingers over the curls above her clit, scissoring your fingers inside of her with one hand and stroking her swollen bud with the other. 

fem!fuma who mewled, “too much, too much,” as she fisted at the wrinkled sheets beneath her, “shit, baby, it’s– fuck– too-”

fem!fuma who barely finished begging you to give her a break before her second release crashed into her, coating your hand in an abrupt and hard-earned gush. you slowed your fingers, a satisfied groan leaving your lips as she twitched under you, limp everywhere but her clenching, throbbing pussy. “so good for me,” you cooed, curling your fingers one final time inside of her and smirking as she jerked, sensitive, “so beautiful.” 

fem!fuma who really was so beautiful, fucked out and dazed, eyes fluttering closed like she hadn’t been sleeping all day. 

fem!fuma who didnt know whether to kiss or kill you as you flopped down next to her and said, “i, uh, have to wash the sheets and stuff.” 

fem!fuma who decided the answer was kiss when you continued, a sweet, innocent smile on your face, “wanna cuddle on the couch?”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭