Request #10: Fem!Saru/Fem!Mi fanfic request! They were sleeping in and Yata wakes up hungry but Fushimi being too cuddly so Yata can’t get up to get food.

Note: Yeah, this totally turned into smut. First time writing f/f smut, so hopefully it turned out okay!

Fushimi was a light sleeper under most circumstances, but nothing was quite as effective at rousing her from a sound sleep as the unmistakable shifting when Misaki tried to sneak out of bed in the morning. It wasn’t that Misaki was terrible at moving slowly and quietly – although that was true, too – but it seemed like since they’d started sharing the same bed, Fushimi’s awareness of her girlfriend’s movements had heightened.

It was stupid, but there it was.

This particular morning was cold, though, and most of the heat in their bed came from Misaki’s perpetually warm body. Fushimi wasn’t exactly feeling generous enough to pretend to sleep while being abandoned to the inevitable chill, so as Misaki shifted to slide out from under the covers, Fushimi turned and snaked both arms around her girlfriend’s waist, pulling her into the bed again and pressing up against her back.

Warm…

Misaki made an undignified-sounding squeak and thrashed in Fushimi’s hold. When she recovered from the surprise, she sharply turned her head, and it was possible to see the scowl without even looking up. It was clear in her voice when she spoke. “Oi. Saru, let go!”

Fushimi didn’t even bother lifting her head from its resting place near Misaki’s back. “Don’t want to,” she murmured, and leaned in to rub her nose against the nape of Misaki’s neck. From the little jerk and swear she got in response, it seemed like she was cold.

Go figure.

Misaki let out a sigh, body going slack. “Come on, Saruhiko… I’m hungry, just let me up.”

“No.”

“Seriously?” Misaki grumbled – but she didn’t make any move to free herself, either. “What if I had to go the bathroom, huh?”

“But you don’t.”

“I could!”

“You’d have said so if you did,” Fushimi pointed out without hesitation or uncertainty, leaning in to find where the loose neckline of Misaki’s T-shirt ended and pressing her lips gently against the exposed curve where neck and shoulder met. She could feel the fine hairs on the skin there rising at the contact, and smiled a little.

The novelty of this – being able to touch Misaki in such an intimate way and having it be accepted; desired, even – had not worn off, even after nearly a year of dating and months of living together. Fushimi wasn’t exactly keen on touching people, but of course Misaki was different. Of course Misaki’s skin was an addiction for her fingertips. Of course she wanted to know every inch of Misaki’s body, and feel Misaki exploring every inch of hers in return.

It never got old, or boring.

Misaki let out a long breath, sounding as if she couldn’t decide if she was more irritated or resigned. “You’re super annoying in the mornings, you know that?”

Fushimi trailed a lazy finger down along the bunched fabric at her girlfriend’s abdomen. “Mmhm.”

“Seriously,” Misaki grumbled, squirming into a more comfortable position within the loose circle of arms around her waist. “You were never like this before.”

Before we started dating, or before we joined Homra? It was a thought Fushimi knew better than to voice. Not that they didn’t talk about the past, but in a moment like this, she wasn’t particularly eager to feel Misaki’s unhappy tension. It was a stark reminder of her own shortcomings. “You’re a bad influence,” she mumbled instead, letting the finger drop to the strip of skin that was exposed where Misaki’s shirt had ridden up.

You’re the one who taught me to rely on you so much…

“The hell? How am I a bad influence?” Misaki tilted her head back to frown over her shoulder.

Of course she wouldn’t get it. But… that was fine. “Who knows,” Fushimi drawled back, tracing little spirals on Misaki’s belly.

Covering up your true feelings became an insidious habit once you’d fallen into it for so long. Fushimi was… trying. For Misaki’s sake, she was trying. It wasn’t always easy. And there were times, like this, when she wished Misaki would just figure out what she was thinking without having to say it.

That’ll probably never happen…

“Yeah, right, whatever.” Misaki sighed again, and turned her face forward, out of Fushimi’s line of vision. “Are you planning to just to grope me until I forget that I’m hungry?”

Fushimi’s hand stilled, halting the latest spiral before she’d even thought it through. “I’m not groping you.”

Misaki made a little ‘harrumph’ noise, sounding derisive. “Yeah, same difference.”

“Is it?” Fushimi deliberately tucked her hand back up against her other arm, leaning her forehand against the back of Misaki’s neck so that there was no more contact. “I’ll stop, then.”

She could feel as well as hear the sharp intake of breath. There was a moment of silence, and Fushimi could almost picture the gears in Misaki’s head turning as she considered how best to respond to that.

Predictable…

The bed was warm and the mood was good. Fushimi decided to be merciful. “Did you want me to grope you, Misaki?”

There was a brief, startled pause, and then Misaki clicked her tongue. “Jerk,” she muttered.

“You’re the one who always says we should be open with each other,” Fushimi pointed out without remorse, letting her voice draw out lazily. She freed her hand again, sliding it slowly up under the bunched up edge of the T-shirt to trace a path up along the line of ribcage beneath, and shifted to press her lips against the spot where her forehead had rested before. “Right, Misaki?”

The way her girlfriend squirmed a little in response was qualitatively different from earlier. “This is a totally different situation than that, okay?” she snapped back. The sharpness in her voice was half-hearted, though; she shivered a little as Fushimi’s fingers slid up under the elastic of her bra.

Fushimi had never been able to understand why Misaki bothered wearing a bra to bed in the first place. Neither of them were particularly well endowed. It probably had something to do with the insecurities about chest size that she’d attempted to hide (poorly) all the way through middle school. Fushimi hadn’t even started wearing a bra until it had become absolutely necessary, so she wasn’t going to worry about wearing one to bed, of all places.

But this was one of the areas where she and Misaki obviously differed. Which was fine. It made things a little bit more fun, even – unpeeling the layers of clothing to get to the softer skin beneath.

Most of Misaki was firm and hard – muscles on her legs from skateboarding, muscles on her arms from swinging that weapon with all her strength, abdomen and shoulders tight and fit. She was a small girl, compact and wiry, but she wasn’t soft by any means. Except in the places that only Fushimi was allowed to touch – the places where just a light brush of fingertips could make her blush and catch her breath.

Speaking of which… A little ‘mm’ of approval escaped Misaki’s lips as Fushimi slid the bra up over the curve of her breast, leaving one finger to trail after and skirting teasingly around the nipple. When Fushimi leaned in to lightly kiss the side of Misaki’s neck, letting warm breath wash over the sensitive skin, Misaki obligingly tilted her head to the side, seeking more attention.

It was still such a rush how these kinds of delicate touches could undo her. They’d done it rough, hard, fast, needy; touching each other with desperation and lust – Misaki wasn’t particular about sex. Most of the time, she was the one initiating it, but when Fushimi felt like starting something, the fastest way to get her girlfriend in the mood was to touch her gently. Little brushes of contact in the right places, and Misaki came apart so quickly.

Somehow, at the back of her head, Fushimi still felt a bit of wonder at that.

She could feel the shiver making its way through Misaki’s frame as she kissed a light line up the taut line of her neck, circling a fingertip around Misaki’s nipple and then tracing a line around and along the path of her ribs to the sensitive spot at the side of her body. When Fushimi’s mouth reached the corner of Misaki’s jaw, she could feel the slight strain as Misaki bit her lip. A small, pleased sound escaped despite the effort, as Fushimi’s fingers teased slowly downward again.

“Saru… hiko…” The name came out as a breathy sigh, hitching just a little when Fushimi kissed the small space between jaw and ear. Misaki’s belly tightened under her hand as she reached low enough to touch the elastic band of her underwear. “Yeah… yeah, there…”

Fushimi could already feel the pleasant spike of arousal low within her own body but ignored it for the moment, letting her fingers slip beneath the thin fabric of Misaki’s underwear. Her girlfriend obligingly lifted a knee to grant easier access.

Unsurprisingly, the soft folds at the downturn of Misaki’s body were slick and warm, more so as Fushimi slid her fingertips gently within, finding the small nub that, when brushed, caused Misaki’s back to arch and a low moan to escape the cage of teeth and lips. She kept the contact light, gratified by the way Misaki shifted sinuously in the curve of her arm as she made tiny circling motions over that most sensitive spot.

“Misaki…” Fushimi breathed the name out just beneath the soft curve of her girlfriend’s ear, following up with a press of lips and a light flick of tongue, and Misaki moaned again, a flush rising on her face that Fushimi could feel more than see.

That uncontained reaction was feeding directly into the ache between Fushimi’s legs; she curled a little against Misaki’s backside, increasing the pace of her finger as if it would satisfy the need building at her core, and listened with satisfaction as Misaki’s breathing grew rough and frenzied. The hand that was tucked under her girlfriend’s body slid up to cup the underside of Misaki’s breast, thumbing the hardened bump of her nipple.

“Ha-ah…” Misaki arched into the touch, lips parted and eyes closed as Fushimi pressed heated kisses against her neck and jawline. Even from the awkward angle, that lustful expression was unbelievably erotic.

That’s it… Lifting her head for just a moment, Fushimi watched those amber eyes flicker open, clouded over with pleasure, before squeezing shut again. Her own breath was coming faster, but that wasn’t important at the moment. Show me everything… everything…

There was no way she could ever get enough of this.

Misaki’s body was trembling, tight with anticipation. “F-Fuck…” She whined, low and anxious. “Saru… Saru…” Fushimi took the fleshy part of her girlfriend’s ear between her teeth and breathed softly against it, simultaneously bringing the pace of her finger to a light staccato, and Misaki abruptly jerked in her arms, half gasping moans escaping with each sharp motion. Her clit seemed to pulse with the rhythm of her orgasm, as if attempting to suck pleasure from Fushimi’s fingertip.

Another hot little jolt of arousal arched out from Fushimi’s lower region. She wriggled her hand free as Misaki panted heavily in her arms, trailing lips and tongue down the line of neck and collar. “Misaki,” she murmured again, an almost reverent exhale against the loose fabric of the T-shirt, before skipping to the point where the sleeve ended and the skin of her girlfriend’s arm began.

Her mouth brushed the thin, familiar irregularity of an old scar – she could find it without looking, these days – and Fushimi closed her eyes for a moment, lips pursing in wordless, unasked-for apology.

Perhaps it was masochistic of her. Somehow there was always the urge lurking at the back of her head – the need to somehow taper the pleasure of most happy moments with bitter reminders of things that couldn’t be changed from their past. When she’d thrown that knife she hadn’t been thinking beyond the heat of the moment – the driving need to make Misaki hurt; to draw out her hatred in the worst way possible.

It was hard to believe they’d even gotten to this point in the end, with how messed up they – she – had been.

Misaki let out a short, exasperated sigh. “What are you thinking about at a time like this?” she muttered, and abruptly jostled her arm loose, turning to push Fushimi onto her back and bending over her with fierce, determined eyes. Her mouth quirked up at the corners once she’d gotten Fushimi’s full attention, eyebrows coming down to match the wicked smirk. “Forget about that, and start focusing on what I’m going to do to you right now, Saru.”

That look was enough to wipe the previous thoughts away. “Oh?” Fushimi lowered her eyelids and returned the smirk, a little rush of warmth spreading out from her lower belly. “Why not make me focus then, Mi~sa~ki~?”

“You asked for it.” Misaki’s tone was low and throaty, matching the promising heat in her eyes. Her T-shirt and bra were still jumbled together at the top of her body, revealing most of her torso, but that obviously wasn’t high on her priority list at the moment. Wedging a knee between Fushimi’s legs, she lowered herself to her elbows, leaning in to press their lips together.

Kissing Misaki was an experience all on its own. Not because she was skilled (although it wasn’t like Fushimi would know one way or another, having no basis for comparison), but because she threw every ounce of whatever feeling was prompting the kiss into it. From simple affection to desperate lust to cocky certainty to those particularly soulful moments that still felt not quite real in Fushimi’s head. Each one had the potential to trip a switch in her chest that could either set her heart to frantic pounding or slow it to a near stop, depending on her own mood and mindset.

It was addicting – and slightly terrifying. Mostly good, though, in the end.

This particular one was I-just-had-an-amazing-orgasm-and-now-I’m-going-to-give-you-the-same, and the feeling it came with was a whole lot of enthusiasm, sprinkled with the barest hint of competitive aggression. Their mouths came together firmly, and Misaki tilted her head to fit them more neatly, pressing in with warm confidence. She held it like that for a beat, giving them both time to adjust to the intimacy of the contact, and then pulled away just the barest amount to come back in with parted lips, flicking her tongue out to run it boldly along the line of Fushimi’s bottom lip, demanding – and receiving – access.

Impatient as always. All the same, it sent a little shivering thrill through Fushimi’s body. Misaki was lucky she liked it like this – liked the lack of restraint and the eagerness that led to things like this hasty open-mouthed kiss and the calloused hand squirming between them to slide up under her shirt. She didn’t bother to hold back the moan that came instinctively to her lips as Misaki’s fingers found the bottom curve of her breast. It was best when those fingertips pressed into her skin – Yes, just like that – with rough need and reckless abandon.

Misaki pinched her nipple – not hard, just firm enough to add an edge of discomfort to the surge of pleasure, and Fushimi arched on the bed, whining a bit into the kiss. She brought her hands up and squeezed Misaki’s shoulders, encouraging her further.

“Like that, huh?” Misaki broke away to murmur, and moved to plant harsh, sloppy kisses down along Fushimi’s jaw.

Fushimi hummed low in her throat, dipping her head back to give her girlfriend room. “Hm… Misaki…” A little swirl of anticipation was starting to build at the pit of her stomach as Misaki stopped teasing her nipple long enough to gather her T-shirt up to her collarbone, pausing with the line of kisses just long enough to make the little jump to the other side of the bunched fabric.

It was becoming clear where this was going, even if she hadn’t already guessed beforehand what Misaki’s objective would be. Well… not like I mind. She made another soft sound of approval as Misaki shifted her weight back and devoted both hands to caressing the sides of Fushimi’s body, thumbing over the curve of her breasts while she traced a line with warm lips and tongue purposefully down the length of torso.

Fushimi didn’t even try to restrain the anxious little hitch of breath that escaped when Misaki’s hot mouth reached her lower belly. The ache between her legs was becoming unbearable. Even waiting for Misaki’s fingers to slip beneath the elastic band of her underwear and slide it down seemed like an intolerable amount of wasted time.

“Saruhiko…” That quiet exhalation of her name had so much underlying fondness that Fushimi couldn’t help but squirm, raising her head a little to squint down at Misaki, who smiled up at her for just a beat, gaze hot and half-lidded and promising even through Fushimi’s poor vision, and then lowered her face.

The first tentative touch of Misaki’s tongue on the most sensitive part of her body had Fushimi tensing up – the light, practiced follow-up motions brought another whimper to the back of her throat as sensation flooded through her. Misaki’s mouth was slick and hot, tongue pressing in just enough to bring the pleasure to the outside edge of discomfort as it made small circling motions around Fushimi’s clit. One hand was still braced on her hip, holding her down; the other slipped in between her legs, fingers finding and teasing at the entrance to her body.

The dual stimulation had Fushimi arching on the bed again, a strangled moan tearing from her throat as Misaki’s fingers pressed inside her. She had already been on edge from the earlier foreplay, and the direct contact was raising the delicious ache within her to its peak quickly. “Mi… saki…” The digits within her body curled, wriggling, and she clawed the bedsheets with shaking hands, tipping her head back helplessly as she teetered on the brink of helpless bliss. “Haa…aa… don’t stop… don’t – “

Misaki made a throaty noise of satisfaction, the vibration carrying through, and the extra spike of pleasure was all it took. Fushimi cried out as orgasm pulsed through her, body shuddering helplessly through the wave of euphoria while her girlfriend continued to work her over until the end.

When she stilled, panting, every muscle gone slack in the wake of that rush, Misaki pulled back. Fushimi’s legs were still trembling slightly; they twitched a bit when the fingers slid from her body. As she raised her head, eyes slitted and vision even more fuzzy than before, Misaki swiped the back of her hand across her mouth and slowly lifted herself up to offer a broad grin.

“So?” The self-satisfied expression became clearer on her face as she shifted up Fushimi’s body to bring them closer together. “How’s that for focus, huh?”

Fushimi allowed herself a lazy little smile in return, pleasantly warm and satiated, and reached up impulsively to run a finger along Misaki’s bottom lip. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.” Misaki leaned in closer, eyelids lowering, and then abruptly pecked her on the nose and backed away, jumping up off the bed and straightening her shirt as she did. “Because I’m even hungrier than before, and now I do have to piss. Later!” With one last cheeky grin over her shoulder and a flick of her fingers, she was off in the direction of the bathroom.

… Seriously. Fushimi stared after her, disgruntled. There were times when Misaki’s careless nature was really inconvenient. No help for it, I guess. Letting out a low, resigned breath, she pushed herself up and reached behind the bed to find her glasses.

At the very least, it was a good start to the day.

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