#fuma x reader

Fuma’s mouth pressed against your neck, lips lingering in a way that caused shivers to flow through you due to your heightened senses.

You were blindfolded, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence by any means.

What was unusual was how uncharacteristically touchy Fuma was being with you — not to say that he didn’t love touching you, because, god, did he ever. Some days you couldn’t keep his hands off of you and you fucking loved it every time.

More-so in the way that his touches so far had been lighter, more intentional, and precisely in every place you needed him to the point of it driving you insane.

The way his hands glided over your skin made you feel like a live wire about to snap.

In addition to the blindfold, you were also wearing a leather collar, another favorite of you two when you were being intimate. You loved the element of control that it represented, the idea of being tethered to the man you loved more than anything else in the world.

Fuma wanted to surprise you with a new one for tonight but he wouldn’t let you see it before he placed it on you. All you knew from feel alone was the collar felt smooth against your neck and you occasionally would get poked from where you presumed the buckle was in the front.

Your sensitivity was through the roof. Every drag of his thick cock inside of you pushed you closer to the edge, filling you with a rush of bliss anytime he hit that one spot that made you scream. You bit your lip at the next particularly harsh thrust as a loud whine clawed its way out of your throat.

Fuma’s thumb tugged your bottom lip from your teeth, smoothing over the skin there to smear your saliva along the surface. “What’s that, darling? Have something to say?”

The deep timbre of his voice rumbled through his chest, and with how you were currently seated on his lap — your back against his chest as he pounded into you, supporting you with the grip he had under your thighs — you swore the feeling echoed through you.

He kissed your shoulder when you still hadn’t responded, the unexpectedness making you jolt. The contrast between tenderness of his kisses with the fast, relentless way he fucked you made you forget your words for a moment.

“Fuck, Fuu, I’m close,” you could only get a few words out at a time. The chuckle he let out behind you did nothing to calm you and instead hurled you deeper into the chaos.

“Already? So sensitive for me, aren’t you?”

“I mean, I guess if you wanna call it that,” your last few words devolved into a high-pitched moan as Fuma smacked your thigh.

“I know that tone,” Fuma’s voice was filled with amusement, “why do you insist on being bratty tonight? You know I’ll give you the world and more.” He kissed the nape of your neck, placing it right above the collar. “There’s no need to rile me up.”

He had you there. Not once tonight had he denied you anything you wanted, so why you were trying to be difficult was beyond you, really.

“Probably trying to keep my cool because I’m so close again and you haven’t even come once yet,” you stammered out the words, each thrust bouncing you in a rhythm that made speaking a gargantuan task at the moment.

“Don’t worry about me, love, just let go,” Fuma’s voice was rough and sensual, ending in a groan as you clenched around him. “I got you.”

Well, with his permission, what were you to do, honestly?

You fell apart on top of him, the feeling making him moan behind you before you felt teeth meet the juncture between your neck and shoulder. The sting from the bite made you gasp and clench harder, walls fluttering in a way that you knew made Fuma lose his mind.

Another groan, the sound so, so sweet to your ears. “Fuck, darling, gripping me so tight — made for me, ah—”

You turned your head to the side, hoping it was in the direction of Fuma’s mouth. He met you halfway, the kiss stealing the rest of your breath. You felt him twitch inside of you, but he still kept going. He only slowed down a fraction so you could recover before he’d start up the same pace again.

Or, at least, that’s what you thought he was going to do.

Instead, Fuma carefully lifted you off of him and held you close. You could feel him getting off the bed, carrying you with him. He walked a few feet before gently lowering you to where you felt the carpet underneath your feet.

He kissed your forehead before he turned you around to where (you assumed) you were no longer facing him. The blindfold still kept you in the dark about what was happening, and you longed to see Fuma.

“Baby, please,” you tried, “can we take this off? Wanna see you.”

You heard him grunt at the request — you saying please always fucked him up.

“Not yet, darling, wanna try something else first. Is that ok?”

He’d been so sweet with you tonight, so careful yet rough in all the ways you needed; how could you deny him?

And, if you were honest, the prospect of Fuma trying something new while you were still blindfolded did pique your interest.

“Ok, I trust you.” And you did. Completely and wholeheartedly, you trusted Fuma with your life, your heart, every bit of yourself.

You barely caught the “thank you” he responded with as his hands started sliding up your arms. He traced them up and down, fingertips flitting as he did, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He was teasing you, which spiked your sensitivity again.

“Fuu,” you whined, eager for him to do something. He quietly chuckled behind you before his hands landed on your hips.

Instead of finally pushing into you like you hoped he would, he kept going, hands now curving around you so he could brush the inside of your thighs. You jerked in his hold, strong arms caging you in while his fingers trailed over the sensitive skin there.

He gently pushed your thighs apart the slightest amount before his hands found yours. Before you could question what was happening, he guided your hands forward until you were met with a surface. It felt like the edge of something — a desk, maybe? — and the solid material helped ground you.

Fuma pressed on your back faintly in between your shoulder blades, helping you bend over. You arched your back for him and the answering grunt he let out told you that he really enjoyed the view.

You felt him line up behind you, taunting you by pushing in the smallest amount before withdrawing again. The fact that you were wet enough that he could slip in with little resistance at this point caused a faint flush to color your face.

It appeared Fuma had also had enough of his shenanigans as he pushed your thighs apart more and settled in behind you. You could feel the weight of him against you, hot and still so, so hard.

He lined up once more and grabbed a hold of your hips. You felt his fingers drumming along the skin as he worked himself up.

"Hold on tight for me, love," was the last thing he said before he slammed into you.

Fuma pushed forward the same time he pulled you back by the hold he had on your hips. Within seconds, his fast pace and abrupt thrusts had you letting out the most depraved noises you had all night.

"Fuma, fuck, don't stop," you pleaded. You may actually cry at this point if this man tried to deprive you of his dick again for the sake of teasing.

A sharp intake of breath left your beloved; you could hear even the smallest sounds so much more clearly than before, thanks to the cloth around your face and the way it sharpened your senses.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling," Fuma moaned when you clenched around him on purpose, rewarding you with a rougher thrust that followed. "Feel so fucking perfect around me, could fill you up forever like this."

"Please," you were whining as you pleaded again. Was it feasible for you to be stuffed with his cock every second of every day? Aboslutely not.

Did you still find the idea of that to be enticing and downright mouth-watering to consider? Fucking yes.

The hazy thoughts clouding your mind were suddenly interrupted by the feeling of Fuma snaking two of his fingers underneath the back of your collar. You barely let out a gasp of surprise before he pulled, yanking you up to where your back was flush against his chest again.

He walked both of your forward, steel grip on your hip keeping you anchored to him while he held onto your tether. Your thighs met the solid material in front of you this time, no longer needing your hands to keep you upright. As Fuma rocked into you, there were noises of things colliding and rolling around in front of you. One may have even fallen on the floor, but that was the least of your concerns right now.

Right now, Fuma was unraveling you in a way you'd never felt before. He'd let go of your collar once you were situated how he wanted before he splayed the length of his hand across your collarbone. He kept you in place like that while he fucked you hard enough that no sounds could even leave you. It took all your focus to just remember to breathe because everything inside of you was just screaming Fuma, Fuma, Fuma.

"My perfect angel," Fuma started saying while you were trying to catch your breath. "The love of my life, my darling, fuck—"

Every term of endearment that fell from Fuma's lips made you clench around him tighter, causing him to falter in his rhythm but only for a moment.

"Every day with you I realize just how fortunate I am," Fuma's breathing was ragged, but he continued, clearly wanting to tell you this. "How grateful I am that you said yes to me, all those years ago."

For the first time that night, the feeling of pleasure running through your veins was joined by another: love.

You loved Fuma so much that you felt you could burst at the seams most days. And you knew the feeling was mutual and had been for years.

If the way he was still fucking into you didn't leave you with tears in your eyes, then at this rate, his words just might.

"I want to spend every day with you, wake up next to you each morning," you felt his lips move against your hair at the top of your head. "Fuck, I want it all with you — the good, the bad, everything in between."

His pace had slowed somewhat and shifted into something deeper, more purposeful. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, ready for the first tears to start falling at any moment.

"Fuma," your call of his name made him groan as he twitched inside of you.

"I want everything with you," he continued, his hand still covering your collarbone as he pulled you closer. "Everything."

"Me too," you finally could string words together again as one tear cascaded down your cheek. With the way he moaned, you figured Fuma must've seen it — he loved making you cry during intimate moments, never from sadness but always from the sheer, overwhelming love you felt.

"Darling," Fuma started, and it sounded almost like a question. His voice came out low but with a strength behind it that you hadn't heard before. His hand that had been on your collarbone fell away only to end up behind you.

The gentlest tug on the end of the cloth told you everything you needed in that moment. Fuma was asking permission to finally remove your blindfold, to let it fall away so you could take him in.

You nodded desperately, mouth open as you waited for the veil to be lifted.

As soon as you had your sight again, you froze. Instead of turning your head to see Fuma, you were able to see him clearly through the mirror in front of you.

He'd been fucking you in front of your bedroom mirror that was mounted against the wall, the movements making things tumble and roll off of the large vanity beneath it with every rock of his hips.

Next, your eyes drifted to Fuma, and his face was the most beautiful you think you'd ever seen. A gentle flush across his face, beads of sweat falling from his temples and down his neck, his hair slightly covering his eyes before he moved his head to get it out of the way. His mouth was open like yours, taking in the view of you like he hadn't just spent all his time watching you at his mercy.

And then right in the middle of it all, there it was: the collar. The collar that Fuma was once again tugging on, but this time to get your attention.

You gasped as your eyes zeroed in on the center. What you thought had been the buckle slightly digging into you actually wasn't that at all.

It was a ring. Attached to the collar with a singular, beautiful diamond perched on top as it sat against the hollow of your throat.

Fuma's smile behind you was blinding.

"Will you marry me?"

Tears were flowing freely now, and you matched the radiance of his smile before you answered.

"Yes. Oh my god, yes."

Fuma wrapped both arms around you then and buried his face in your neck, an overjoyed noise leaving him as he hugged you tight.

Fuma was still moving inside of you, albeit at a much more controlled pace. The juxtaposition of it all made your eyes roll back, your high approaching again for the third time of the night.

Fuma tilted your head to the side and stole the air from your lungs with the way he kissed you. It was like he was trying to show you how much he loved you with just that action alone without words.

"I love you so much, fuck," his eyes were closed as his forehead rested against yours. "I'm so fucking happy you said yes."

You giggled before moaning at the sharp thrust he answered you with.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't say yes?"

"Well… no. But you've made me the happiest man alive by doing so." Another quick kiss before he pulled back. When you were facing forward again, his hands appeared in front of you neck, working to undo the collar to slide the ring off of it.

The collar fell away somewhere unimportant as you stared at the gleaming ring held carefully in between Fuma's fingers. You raised your left hand, ready for him to place it on you.

Seeing you like that, for some reason, kickstarted Fuma into a fast pace similar to the one he maintained before removing your blindfold. The guttural groan that left him ignited something inside of you.

"Fuck, seeing you like this, ah— ready to give me your hand— fuck, darling—"

Fuma's control had finally frayed enough to where he was letting himself go. He enclosed the ring in his fist so as not to drop it while he pounded into you once more.

"Ah, hold your hand up for me, love. Keep it steady," Fuma struggled to get the words out. Your eyes had started to slip closed from the pleasure you were feeling, but you met his stare in the mirror as you nodded.

You held up your hand, but instead of placing the ring on your finger like you thought he might, he instead leaned you forward so your palm was pressed against the surface of the glass.

"Keep it there— ah, fuck."

You obeyed his command and he finally, through a combined effort (because he'd be damned if he stopped fucking you for this) managed to place the ring on your finger. He had one arm fully wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling, and once the ring was secure, he lifted your hand to his lips and placed a kiss over the new addition.

"Now," Fuma said the words against your knuckles, "let me fuck my wife like she deserves."

You didn't bother correcting him because in your mind, you felt the same. Even if you weren't married yet, the way he called you wife had you melting all the same.

No more words were shared while Fuma carried you to your peak for the third time that night, only combined breaths, sighs, and noises of pure desire. This time, he met you there, and you two fell over together. He moaned loudly as he spilled inside of you, holding your hips against him hard enough that there were sure to be marks in the morning.

As you both calmed down and your breathing slowed, Fuma was rubbing up and down your arms again, much like he had done before to tease you. This time, however, he was doing it to soothe you, saying 'I'm here' without uttering a single word.

Your head leaned back against his shoulder, prompting him to kiss your neck, something you knew him to be very fond of.

He laughed against you. "Fucking hell."

"Agreed." You turned this time to place a kiss underneath his jaw, delighted with the way it made him shiver. "Is my husband going to carry me back to bed now?"

Fuma hadn't softened completely yet, and the way he violently twitched inside of you and groaned made you laugh hard enough you had to reach out to stable yourself with your hands on the vanity.

He beamed at you through the mirror, placing a hand on top of yours that now housed the ring.

"Anything for you, darling."

taglist: @justawenotype, @illneverrecover, @xozoelivia

thank you so much for reading! 🖤

It was no secret your boyfriend was jacked.

His members knew it from sharing dorms with him for 4 years. 

His fans knew it from the numerous times he'd graced them by wearing a singlet and showed off his arms. When he blessed them by opening or outright taking off his shirt to reveal his abs.

You knew it because you must've saved a country in a past life. To be the lucky person who got to see his body every time you asked, or pouted, or so much as batted your eyelashes in that specific slow way.

But seeing can only do so much to calm the lust infused curiosity inside you. You'd felt his arms. Both when your arms were linked together while walking outside a row of shops, and the times you'd straight up asked to see them. He'd obliged with a chuckle, folding up his arm and flexing. 

The muscles of his biceps hadn't so much as twitched or flinched when you gingerly touched them. Rock solid barely did them justice, his biceps could rival diamonds. And they were so thick too. Your hands weren't the biggest, but they weren't the smallest either. Still, when you wrapped your hand around his arm, there was a sizeable portion of the circumference left untouched. 

The feeling of the hard muscle cording under soft skin had made your mouth water. And God help you when he flexed the muscle back and forth. You almost fainted from the mass of blood that pooled to your pussy, suddenly developing strength of your own to pull him into the bedroom and ride him until your entire body ached and shivered.

But there was one other thing you'd yet to check off your bucket list. You, for some unfathomable reason, had not felt up his abs yet. 

Looking at him now, freshly showered and sitting on the couch in a t-shirt almost bursting at the seams from the sheer size of his pecs, the fabric stretched tight enough to see the divots of his abs through the black fabric, you had never felt stupider. How could you have neglected the majesty that was Fuma's abs? What a blessing to have a face and heart so distracting it diverted your gaze from below, but enough was enough. 

God, he'd been so excited to be in that magazine. 

His gaze was narrowed as you gaped at the pages. This man, your personal ruin, didn’t even bother to hide the smirk on his face as you unblinkingly stared at the brazen display of male perfection in that magazine. How could you blink? It would take away a split second better spent admiring the ethereal man in the photos. The same man sat on the other side of your couch chuckling as he stared at you.

You couldn’t even form any compliments to give him. All your thoughts consisted of undignified barking and promises that you were going to suck his dick as a reward for the blessing your eyes received. God, the long blonde hair in the half-up, the warm lighting highlighting his beautiful dark brown eyes. The harsh ridges of his abs peeking through the black suit. It made your mouth water. You were sure you were drooling. 

“Do you like it, love?” The deep timbre of his voice asked, so perfectly matching the flawless masculinity of his body. 

You could barely answer, too set in your daze. Of all the thoughts soaked in your lust, one rose to the surface and stayed.

You had to feel this man’s abs, now. 

You swallowed thickly and put the magazine down on the couch cushion beside you. Then looked at him. He’d changed his hair now, a shorter wolfcut in a dirty blonde, but his eyes were still the exact same dark brown. Except for now, when they were narrowed and his mouth upturned in a smug smirk, knowing of the effect he had on you. He dipped the tip of his thumb in his mouth back and forth while pretending to wonder why you were so out of your mind.

As if he wasn’t the one whose mere existence sent you into a spiral of horny madness. 

You got up from your spot on the couch and sat beside him, your thigh pressed into his. You stared directly into his face, still donning the smug expression. He placed his hand on your thigh, sending a wave of heat spreading through your body.

“So did you like it?” The tease.

You breathed deeply, barely holding yourself back. “Yes.” Your voice was deceptively calm.

The hand that was touching your thigh moved up to curl your hair in his fingers. You pressed deeper into him, sneaking a hand onto his ribcage. The t-shirt he was wearing did a comically poor job at hiding his frame, the fabric sticking to his pecs like tape and even revealing the shadows of what was below them. You moved your hand up and down like you were petting him, trying to sneak a feel further and further down.

But Fuma was no idiot.

He smiled wider as he took your wandering hand in his and pressed a kiss to it. “Something you want to ask?”

He was urging you. He knew what you wanted, but if there was one thing Fuma loved, it was watching you fluster and squirm before finally giving in to your desires and asking for what you truly wanted. You weren’t going to get a feel unless you asked him yourself.

You blinked at him, used to his games and unsurprised by his request. But unbeknownst to him, you knew exactly what you wanted. Your usual fluster wasn’t showing her face. 

Just pure, carnal, want.

So you had no qualms voicing your wants.

“I want to feel your abs.”

He raised an eyebrow, but his eyes gleamed. “You can.”

You didn’t waste a millisecond. Blasting out of your relaxed stance curled up at his side, you tugged at the poor excuse of a shirt until he laughed brightly, taking it off and letting it fall to the floor.

There they were. In all their majesty. Thick, strong planes of muscle divided by deep ridges. A smattering of dark hair that traced below his belly button to under his pants. Your gaze zeroed in on them, ripe for the feeling, and Fuma, in all this teasing menace, flexed them, the few seconds you’d spent admiring him too long to stroke his ego.

You placed your hand down over them. Splayed out, like you didn’t know what to do but were greedy nonetheless. They were hard. Harder than his arms. Dense and unyielding. A sign of true strength that made your mouth water at what they represented. You ran your fingers up to the top of them, making your way down at a snail’s pace. This was the first time you’d done this, you were going to savour it like a five course meal.

His body was so different to yours. Where you were soft, he was toned to the gods. A modern day Adonis. 

Every centimetre, every groove your fingers caught on made you shiver. You’d known your boyfriend was strong, your goings on in bed were more than enough proof of his prowess. But getting to feel them, hard muscle signature of the ideal figure, was a different story. It spoke to the primal urge inside you that screamed to take. The type of partner bested by none, one that could provide everything you wanted, needed.

It wasn’t shocking to the mind, but to the body, your body, as you traced the lines, it made you gape in surprise. It was your reaction to the pictures in the magazine all over again. Fuma pulled you into him, settling your head in the crook of his neck as you rested your hand over him, stopping completely and catching up with the rush of heat spreading into every corner of your body. You stuttered out a breath.

“Wow…”

He laughed. “That’s all you have to say? Wow?”

Your hand shifted a fraction. “They’re so… hard.”

You stroked your hair. “Yeah. They are. Like them?”

You moved to look at him. “You know I do.”

He chuckled. “Just checking, love.”

The petname in his deep voice alone was enough to have an effect on you, but the symbol of his love combined with the panty-dropping sight and feel underneath your fingers was enough for a fresh wave of your juices to soak your panties beyond saving. You looked down at his abs again, your eyes calculating your next move. Fuma followed suit, instead his eyes carried a cocky glint. 

You trailed your hand downwards. Slowly still, past the bottom two planes of pure muscle and dusting of hair leading into the waistband of his pants. Fuma breathed sharply, shifting his stance on the couch to spread his legs and give you what you wanted to take. 

Or so he thought.

For your hand didn’t tease down to his crotch. Didn’t breeze over the half-hard bulge in his pants, certainly didn’t cup it and squeeze it lightly that made him roll back his head. No. You simply rested it on his thigh, rubbing right up on his groin a centimetre away from his dick. He breathed heavy, joining you in your lust as you rubbed him in the exact spot where he could feel you just enough to be on his radar, but not enough to actually feel anything where he was growing to need it the most.

“Love…” he groaned. “Don’t tease.”

You laughed in your throat sweetly. Then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Okay.”

You climbed into his lap, swinging one leg over his thighs and boxing him in. He looked up at you, surprised but waiting for your next move. Your hands were on his shoulders, the warmth of them matching your hands as they slid down his torso. Your knuckles caught the swells of his pecs, the brush of one against his nipple earning you a hitch in his breath. They bumped against the ridges separating the abs you were admiring earlier, and you allowed yourself a final few seconds of staring before they suddenly rose up to hold his arms down. Right at his biceps.

You pressed your body into him, sliding down until your face was rested against his abs. You pressed your cheek into the muscle and smiled up at him in cheeky warning before kissing his abs. 

All around, not one area of the skin and muscle underneath was left untouched by your lips. Fuma remained quiet, a faux sign of composure, because he was losing his mind. Watching you worship his abs like this, the view of your head against his front and your soft lips against the sensitive skin. It did something to him he didn’t realise he’d never felt before. It was like when you gave him a blowjob. On your knees, his dick in your mouth, switching between focus on his dick and looking half-lidded into his eyes like you were drunk on the taste of his dick and the pleasure it gave him. But less so. Less sensation that still made his mind go fuzzy and electric at the same time. A frayed wire, rather than a live one. 

And then you started sucking. 

You caught whatever skin of his abs you could between your teeth. And sucked. Rhythmic passes of softly biting the skin between your teeth and sucking on it. The wet feeling of your mouth on the sensitive skin made Fuma moan, spurring you further. One hickey after another. You were insatiable, needing your boyfriend’s abs in your mouth and making sure the purple and red marks you were sucking into them ensured no other woman was seeing them for at least a week. No fan was getting their Fuma fix for the time being. No, this man was all yours. You were the lucky one and only. 

You stopped for a few seconds, sitting yourself down on your knees on the floor, your hands pressed on his inner thighs to keep him from closing his legs in sheer sensitivity. Then continued your painting on his skin. With every pulse of your mouth and teeth it made him harder, his cock noticeably pressed against the drawstring of his thin pants. He groaned at a particularly hard bite, looking down at you as you looked up. Your doe-eyed gaze would’ve been innocent had you not still had his abs in your mouth, and the cheeky wink you gave him made another moan leave him. He was sweating by now, rivulets perspiring on his skin and pooling in the grooves of his muscles that you more than heartily licked up as you kissed him.

His restraint was leaving him. The sight of you on your knees never failed to get him riled up, but the lack of stimulation to his dick was making him slowly go insane. He didn’t know how long he could take rutting his hips into nothing before he simply pulled you off him, wrenched his pants down and stuck his cock down your throat where he could get some relief from the pulsing hardness in his boxers. 

Thankfully though, you appeared to be on the same wavelength as him. You’d left an obscene smattering of hickies all along his abdomen. Some were on his abs, some in the grooves between them, others had been deeply more excruciating to handle because they’d been over his happy trail. Your lips left his skin, puffy and bruised a deep shade of red, and you looked up at him with a horny half-lidded gaze as you rubbed his thighs. 

“Do it or I’m going to do it for you.” Fuma struggled to speak between groans, his patience a thread away from snapping.

You stopped for a few seconds while pretending to ponder his warning. Then grinned. You passed a hand over the swell of his crotch, the fabric bulging outwards from the size of his dick. He groaned when you took it out of his boxers, hissing at the sudden cold air on his dick despite the atmosphere being so heated. His whole body was sweating under your touch now, giving a sheen to his skin and dampening his hairline. 

His cock twitched in your hand as he breathed heavily. He was almost shaking with anticipation of your wet mouth on his cock. 

“Do it.” His voice strained.

You chuckled and kissed his tip.