love’s the death of peace of mind — geto suguru +18
satoru grumbles as soon as his body hits the mattress but doesn’t wake up, he’s gonna be a pain in the ass in the morning when the hungover kicks in.
“he looks so thin, how can he be that heavy?” you try to catch your breath after climbing up the stairs carrying him with suguru.
“it’s his massive ego” suguru opens a windows to fresh up satoru’s hot dorm, summer is unforgiving even in the nighttime, “come here”.
you glance at satoru making sure he’s not lying on his back, and when you turn your head back at suguru he’s already inches from your face, tilting your chin upwards and pressing his lips against yours.
“this is gojo’s dorm” you whisper, he moves a warm hand to the back of your neck.
“so?” suguru whispers back, pulling you by the neck back to him, he sucks your bottom lips and wets it with his tongue to the point you’re putty in his hold within seconds.
geto always does that, when no one’s looking he steals a kiss, places a hand on your thigh under the table, or holds your hand on the way home.
there was never a confession, a conversation about what that means even.
yet you can’t help the feeling blooming in your chest whenever your eyes meet.
quietly you two stumble into his dorm after you refuse to go further in your best friend’s room, two doors down from satoru’s. he’s already pulling your skirt down while you open the buttons of his uniform.
maybe you should say something, now or…
“no, here” he pulls you to the wall and cages you when you attempt to make your way to his bed. he’s pressing your body to the cold wall and tongue against yours before you question anything.
it’s so good how he feels close to you like that, almost makes you wonder if that’s how a puzzle feels when complete.
maybe you should have drunk more of the sweet stuff gojo was having… these are the type of thoughts that gets a sober girl hurt in the end.
geto gets rid of his clothing and after spitting in his hand and stroking himself he makes his way inside you, “so good” he moans into your neck, raising one leg as he gets deeper inside your walls.
you have all of him memorized in your system. the shape of his lips on your skin, the temperature of his palms, his smell, his size, the feeling of his tip and how far it goes.
“kiss me?” it wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, it amuses him you can tell by the devilish gleam in his eyes.
“mmm” he ponders even rubbing his chin, “should i?” you raise your chin almost pouting, “you make a compelling argument.”
you yelp as he picks you up using the wall as leverage, now fully holding you before the magnetic lips find yours once again. through sweat and moans you hold on to him.
“i’m crazy about you” he confesses thrusting his hips. this might be the closest you get of a confession from geto suguru, which is good enough for now. as long as he’s hitting that sweet spot and mumbling praises you don’t care of what is called. it’s love to you. and it’ll destroy whatever peace think you have.
