ꫂ᭪݁ hunk of a man - fuma ᭝ ᨳଓ ՟
ꨄ︎ warnings : skinship, tension, suggestive (?), kissing
ꨄ︎ word count : 1.2k
ꨄ︎ author's note : this is for all the fuma muscle stans!! i’ve been meaning to write this for a whileeeee i’m so glad i finally got around to it. there’s a certain…term…in here that awoke smth in me… hope i’m not the only one. all support is appreciated, hope u enjoy my jokitties 🪽
ִֶָ. ..𓂃currently playing: sexy boy - air ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
⠀ ⠀ ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ 村田風雅ᰍ໋ ۫ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𖦹⠀ 𓈒 読む⸝⸝ ⟡
your holy grail, the gym - the place you spent countless hours in, headphones blasting your playlist. you went so many times a week it was practically your second home.
working out had become a habit of yours at the start of the year, it was the only new year’s resolution you had managed to follow through with. minding your business, headphones blasting a random playlist, it felt like the months flew by.
your schedule was steady, you went regularly, and your body was fit - and that’s how you liked it.
---
somewhere along the way, you started to notice a certain someone that worked out near your usual spot. the guy was handsome, and also ripped as hell, his triceps buff and his biceps even bigger. he kept to himself most of the time, only offering a small, brief smile on the occasion you made eye contact in the large mirror.
after the first sighting, you started to find him every time you went unintentionally - near the machines, outside the locker rooms, standing in the reception when you walked in. it was practically impossible to not see him. anytime you went, he was there, that same focused look on his face as he curled the heavy dumbbells.
it was strange. you had never noticed him before, yet you knew he wasn’t a new member because he was friendly with the staff, familiar with the equipment. maybe fate had caused you to notice him. or maybe the guy’s insane muscles. either way, you weren’t complaining. he was a sight for sore eyes. yours, more specifically.
---
you were struggling to put the weights back on the bench press bar, your arms exhausted and weak.
“need some help?” a deep voice called, warm hands sliding over your wrists and guiding them to the bar. lifting your gaze to the person, you realise who it is - the guy you’ve been seeing everywhere.
“oh, um… thanks.” you mumbled, sitting up and wiping the sweat from your forehead. the guy chuckles, offering his hand to you. it was much larger than yours, with calloused knuckles and veins that ran down his forearm.
“i’m fuma. murata fuma. nice to meet you.”
you introduced yourself in return, taking his hand. his grip was strong, as you expected, his hand enveloping yours. a quick shake, and that tight squeeze was gone.
“are you a regular here? i feel like i haven’t seen you around before.” fuma asked, his gaze soft as he stared down at you. he hadn’t seen you before? but you’d sworn he had made eye contact with you in the past…
“yeah, i am. i haven’t seen you around here before either.” you replied, a small laugh escaping. what a liar you are. anything to not sound like a creep, you thought. it would be weird to admit that you had actually seen him around hundreds of times already, and were able to recognise him from the back of his head.
fuma hummed at your response, a hint of a grin visible on his lips.
“i see. well, hopefully i’ll see you around.” he began to back off, brushing a hand through his hair. “be careful with those weights, alright?”
“i will. see ya.”
you waved and he left, your eyes lingering on his buff figure as he walks away.
---
you started to talk with fuma more and more over the following weeks, growing more comfortable with each other. the two of you had started working out alongside each other, spewing words of encouragement at one another, sharing water bottles when the other’s had ran out.
fuma would offer you advice and support where he could, especially when it came to pull-up form and exercising your back muscles.
“here, let me help you.” he had offered, his large hands gripping your waist, pushing under your loose workout shirt as he gave you a boost to reach the bar.
he’d count your reps, giving you tips on endurance and form, his hands sliding over your back, feeling how your muscles tightened for each rep. the touch made your skin burn.
when you reached 12 pull ups, your new record, fuma squeezed your shoulder, eyes trained on the trail of sweat dripping down your neck.
“knew you could do it.” he said with a smirk, voice deep, his dark gaze lingering on your red face. “attagirl.”
everything about him drove you crazy, from his charming looks, his insane build, his endless support. you were screwed.
little did you know, fuma was in way deeper.
---
that same night, fuma was unable to sleep despite how exhausted he felt.
he was tossing and turning, all because he couldn’t get you out of his head. anytime his eyes closed, he’d see your face, your perfect body and how it moved. he could practically still feel how warm your skin felt in his hands, how your muscles moved under his grip.
fuma groaned, his body tense with desire for you - strong and relentless. it was hopeless.
all he wanted was you.
---
it was a hot friday evening, your workout had taken a toll on you. fresh out of the shower, you quickly put on your spare change of clothes in the locker room. much better, you thought.
you were brushing your hair when you heard the door hinges creak open, heavy footsteps echoed through the room. facing your locker, you couldn’t tell who it was, not until a wide shadow appeared above you, his breathless panting hitting the back of your bare shoulder.
“fuma?” you called, putting the brush in your bag and turning around.
fuma looked… different, to say the least. his hair was dishevelled, his stance tense, and his eyes were dark, piercing. staring right at you.
before you had a chance to ask him what was wrong, his hands grabbed your shoulders, manhandling you roughly, pushing you up against the wall. you let out a gasp of shock, quickly swallowed as fuma crashed his lips against yours. his large body completely towered over you, pinning you in place.
his lips moved over yours with nothing but desire encouraging him, his tongue pushing into your mouth. you kissed him back, your hands finding the thick trunks that were his arms. you could feel him smirking into the kiss, hands squeezing your ass before exploring over your body.
“fuck… ‘wanted this so fucking bad,” fuma groaned, breaking the kiss. his mouth was quick to find your jaw, the sensation of his hot, wet tongue dragging across your skin leaving goosebumps on your flesh. “wanted you so bad.”
“mmh, i wanted it t-too, fuma…” you whispered, the tone of your voice making fuma moan.
the two of you stay there, indulging in your desire for one another, completely unbothered by the risk of being caught by the staff.
all that mattered in the moment was you and fuma.
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