FORGED IN METAPHORS AND

MELANCHOLY WAVES

ꨄ got any 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 send away and i shall answer, don’t be afraid to send me asks and messages, i love interaction and it actually motivates me

© 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐈 DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR FEED TO AI

you feel him push your legs open and sink into you in one unhurried motion, burying himself all the way to the hilt and staying there for a long second just to feel the way your body flutters and tightens around him before he finally starts moving in those rough thrusts that drag every inch of him against you.

“fuck, look at that face….” he mutters mean right against your ear, “already turning red like that, you always get this shy when im balls deep inside you huh?” his hips keep rolling grinding in deep, and the more you try to turn your face away the more he seems to enjoy watching you get flustered.

“this tight cunt’s gripping me so good.” he keeps going, “why’re you so nervous while i pump you full? cute.” he thrusts harder now, deeper, the wet sound of it filling the quiet between his words, and he doesn’t ease up even when your breath starts hitching.

“you feel every thick inch stretching you open right now?” he mutters, grinding deep, “and you’re still trying to look anywhere but at me even though you’re soaked around my cock.” he shifts, pushing your thigh higher so he can sink in even further, and the new angle makes your whole body tense under him.

“yeah, just like that.” he continues, “feel how deep i am? this is what you get for being so fucking tight and nervous,” he keeps the same rough pace, every thrust heavy as he leans in closer so his mouth is right by your ear again.

“i’m gonna fill you up while you’re still too embarrassed to even make a proper sound.” he doesn’t stop, doesn’t soften, just keeps moving and talking, letting every filthy word spill out as he uses you exactly how he wants.

you feel him settle between your legs and push into you slowly, fully, every inch, until his hips are flush against yours and he stays there for a moment making sure you’re taking him properly before he starts moving in those steady strokes.

“you’re doing well my love.” he says“taking me this deep without complaining. good girl.” his hips keep the same precise rhythm, and the way he looks down at you is almost assessing.

“you’re very tight around me. it’s… pleasant.” he doesn’t seem to notice how the words sound, just continues as if he’s stating facts. “your body is reacting nicely. every time i push in you get wetter. that’s good.”

it gets to be too much and your hand comes up to cover his mouth, trying to stop the words, but he simply catches your wrist and pins it firmly beside your head without breaking rhythm.

“don’t do that,” he says against your palm before moving it away, still thrusting steady and deep.

“i’m not finished. you’re taking me so well it would be a waste not to tell you, keep being good for me while i fill you.” he doesn’t raise his voice, his hips never miss a beat and your pinned hand stays right where he put it.

“aww, already this red?” he coos,“look at you trying so hard not to make a sound.” his hips keep rolling and he watches your face the whole time like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all day.

“c’mon, don’t hide,” he keeps going, still smiling, “you get this embarrassed just from having me inside you? look at how you’re squeezing me every time i talk. you really can’t handle being called out for being this nervous, huh?” he thrusts a little deeper, dragging it out just to watch you squirm.

“so shy you can barely look at me even while you’re taking my cock this well,” he teases as he shifts his angle, pushing one of your knees higher so he can sink in further, and the new depth pulls another quiet sound from you that only makes his grin wider.

“there it is,” he murmurs, still thrusting slow and mean, “that tiny noise you try so hard to swallow. you’re so shy you can’t even moan properly, can you? just lay there getting fucked”

“look at this pathetic little thing,” he sneers,“already trying to cover your face, keep your hands down, i want to see you.” his hips keep slamming in deep and mean, and even though the way you’re hiding clearly irritates him he can’t seem to stop the grin stretching across his face.

“you think covering up makes you less of a desperate little hole?” he continues, still thrusting hard, “it doesn’t. it just makes you look more pathetic, keep trying to hide, it’s almost cute how much you can’t stand being looked at while you’re getting fucked.”

he forces one of your hands away from your face only to watch you immediately try again, and the low laugh that leaves him is pure mean satisfaction.

“there you go again,” he mutters, “covering up like a little coward even though your cunt is gripping me so tight.” he doesn’t ease up, just keeps driving into you hard and deep, every filthy word coming out like he’s both irritated and thoroughly enjoying the show.

“you’re so quiet,” he murmurs, “and so wet already. does being talked to like this make you this nervous?” he thrusts a little deeper. “you take me so well… trembling and trying to hide that pretty face. i can feel every little squeeze. it’s alright to look at me. i want to see how shy you get when i tell you how good this tight cunt feels wrapped around me.”

his hips keep that same rhythm even as the words stay filthy, and he never raises his voice once. “you’re going to let me fill you, aren’t you? even while you’re this flustered.” he leans in a little closer, still smiling.

“you don’t have to hide. i can already feel how much your body likes this even if you’re too shy to show it on your face. every time i push in you get tighter, i’m going to enjoy every second of filling you up while you can barely meet my eyes.”

⋆˚꩜｡ 𝐅𝐖𝐔 why keep crawling back to satoru who only wants you bent over and gone when suguru will stay inside you and still be there in the morning?

it keeps happening just often enough, that you find yourself listening for the sound of his voice drifting down the hallway.

and that easy hey, which always ends with you pressed against a wall or bent over whatever surface is closest, while his fingers tangle in your hair as he takes exactly what he wants then walks away before your breath has even steadied.

sometimes a day later a blunt text arrives with nothing but a place and a time and you show up anyway telling yourself the repetition must mean something.

until the afternoon you cross the quad and see him with his arm settled around a tall dark haired girl who is laughing at whatever he just said leaning into him like she belongs there while he never once looks your way.

that night you lie awake staring at the ceiling hating how badly you still crave the next time he’ll use you while the weeks smear together into a string of hookups that finish with him pulling out and leaving without a word, and those campus glimpses that land just casually enough to feel intentional.

until you finally stop sending the first message and he either fails to notice or notices and simply doesn’t care leaving you exhausted from chasing after scraps.

you’re currently at shoko’s apartment that carries the thick scent of cigarette smoke mixed with instant coffee while you sit curled on her couch with your knees drawn tight to your chest and your voice breaks in that raw ugly way it only does after you’ve kept something locked inside for far too long.

“he just leaves. every time. and then i see him with someone else like i’m nothing. like i was never-” you don’t finish because the words stick in your throat while shoko stays quiet with her cigarette burning down between her fingers and you’re right in the middle of admitting how pathetic it is that you still get wet for someone who treats you like a convenient hole.

when the front door opens and suguru steps in pausing in the entryway as he takes in the whole scene until something in his expression goes still he doesn’t interrupt just leans against the wall and listens while you keep talking, because stopping feels worse spilling out the anger the humiliation and that leftover want that makes you sick.

and when you finally run out of words, the silence hangs thick until suguru’s voice comes calm and even “he’s always been like that” and you look at him noticing the way he watches you, the same way he watches everything quiet assessing a little too sharp underneath then he says “i can help you stop waiting”

and it isn’t a question at all so you stare at him for a second before managing “help how exactly” and he pushes off the wall taking a slow step closer “by giving you something that doesn’t leave you empty afterward something that actually stays” shoko exhales a thin stream of smoke glancing between the two of you and mutters “this is either the worst idea or the best one you’ve had in months”

but suguru doesn’t look away from you “you’re tired of crumbs right” and you nod almost against your will so he continues “then stop collecting them i’m offering a whole different kind of meal one that doesn’t vanish the second he gets what he wants” your voice comes quieter now “and what do you get out of it” he almost smiles “the chance to watch you stop looking at him like he matters more than you do.”

and just like that that’s how you ended up in his room with your legs already spreading for him on the bed, while suguru takes his time refusing to rush a single second of it as he undresses you piece by piece like every button and zipper is something he’s deliberately claiming, his mouth finding the side of your throat and staying there long enough to leave a slow heat under your skin, his hands steady and unhurried as they map the places.

satoru used to grab and discard without thought and when he finally pushes inside it’s deep and controlled the stretch of him filling you in a way that forces your breath out in a long shaky sound his hips rolling instead of snapping giving you the full length of every slow thrust, so you feel him everywhere at once.

he watches your face the entire time never looking away one hand staying on your jaw his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth every time a gasp slips free and he asks “does he ever look at you when he fucks you”

you manage to answer between breaths “he never looks he just finishes and leaves” and suguru’s eyes darken as he thrusts deeper “tell me how different this feels” and you choke out “it feels like you’re actually here , not just using me” and he hums in approval still moving inside you

“good, because i am here and i’m not going anywhere” after, he holds you down when you try to turn your face away, while his other hand slides between your bodies to work you open even wider.

until the pressure builds so heavy you come, first clenching around him with a broken sound that makes his breath catch and he keeps talking through it.

“that’s it come for me” and he follows a minute later forehead pressed hard to yours hips stuttering as he finishes inside you, breath uneven and raw murmuring “see how much better it is when someone stays after?”

which he doesn’t pull away or leave the way you’re used to instead he stays buried deep until he softens then eases out carefully, and reaches for a damp cloth wiping between your legs with a gentleness that feels almost more intimate than the sex itself before.

he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your hips up guiding himself back into you from behind slower this time, deeper his chest pressed to your back as he whispers into your ear.

“he never stays does he? never holds you after, never bothers to learn what makes you shake like this” you gasp out his hand sliding around to rub circles over your clit while he fucks into you with long rolling thrusts, that force soft broken noises out of your throat, and when your arms start to give out.

he gathers you up onto your side spooning you close one leg hooked over his so he can keep rocking into you from behind, while his mouth stays at your neck.

you come again around him shaking hard enough that he has to hold you tighter through it, his own release following.

soon after as he buries himself as deep as he can get and stays there panting against your shoulder, he turns you to face him brushing damp hair from your forehead.

you sleep there tangled in his sheets waking in the morning to find him already up making coffee in the kitchen like nothing major shifted even though everything between you clearly has.

six days later satoru finds out.

you’re still not sure who let it slip.

whether shoko cut sharp with the truth, or whether suguru simply wanted him to know, wanted the information to see if it kills him.

either way, the result is the same,

he turns up at your door looking like sleep has been a stranger for days. his hair a chaotic mess, jaw locked so tight the muscle jumps, he doesn’t wait for you to invite him in.

the second the door opens he steps forward, forcing you to take a half step back just to keep from colliding with his chest.

“you let him fuck you?” you fold your arms across your chest, feeling the defensive line form without conscious thought.

“you keep leaving me with cum running down my leg.” you throw back, voice steadier than you feel, “

so don’t stand here and act like i was ever exclusive.”

his laugh comes out short and bitter, it doesn’t sound like him “that’s not the same.”

“isn’t it?” you tilt your head, refusing to look away. “you used me whenever it was convenient and walked out before i could even catch my breath. you never stayed. you never asked. you never once made it feel like i was anything more than a body that happened to be available. so tell me again how it’s different.”

he steps closer, you refuse to give ground. your back is almost to the wall now, but you hold the line, chin up, arms still crossed.

he reaches for you, hand lifting toward your face or your waist, you’re not sure which, and you slap it away hard enough that the sound cracks through room.

his fingers curl into a fist at his side. something flashing through his eyes. anger. jealousy. hurt, maybe, though he’d never name it that.

the first real feeling he’s handed you in weeks, and it’s ugly.

“you’re mine.” he says, “you’ve been mine since the very first time. every late-night text you answered. don’t stand there and pretend it didn’t mean anything.”

“it meant something to me.” you fire back, heat rising in your chest.

“that’s the problem. it never meant the same thing to you. you got what you wanted and left. over and over. and then i had to watch you walk around campus with your arm around someone else like i was never even there. so spare me the sudden possessiveness, satoru. you don’t get to claim me now just because someone else touched what you threw away.”

his breathing has gone uneven, he looks at you like he’s seeing the damage for the first time, the way you hold yourself, the refusal in your posture, the fact that you’re not melting the way you used to.

“suguru doesn’t get to have you,” he says, “he doesn’t get to step in and play savior because i fucked up. you’re not his to fix.”

“i’m not yours to break either.”

the words land. you see them hit. his throat works.

the anger surges back, desperate and possessive.

he moves again, crowding you against the wall, one hand braced beside your head, the other hovering near your waist like he’s fighting the urge to grab.

his voice drops into that low, register that used to make your stomach flip.

“i can fix it,” he says. “let me fix it. i’ll stay. i’ll- fuck, i’ll do it right this time. just don’t… don’t let him be the one who gets to keep you.”

you don’t kiss him back when he leans in, you turn your face away at the last second, his mouth brushing the corner of yours instead of landing, his breath stutters against your cheek.

“get out,” you say, he freezes, the hand beside your head curls into a fist against the wall.

for a long moment neither of you moves. you can hear his breathing, rough and uneven. you can feel the tension coiling through his body, the war between dragging you closer and respecting the line you just drew. “h-haaa.. fuck..”

“get out, satoru.” something fractures behind his eyes, he pushes off the wall, steps back, and the sudden space between you feels colder than it should.

he looks at you one last time then he turns and walks out.

the door clicks shut behind him harder than necessary.

you stay where you are, back against the wall, arms still folded tight across your chest.

your hands are shaking. your pulse is a frantic drum in your throat. outside, the hallway stays silent.

and for the first time in a long time the waiting feels like it’s finally over whether he accepts that or not.