ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ❤︎

𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖'𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

[illogicallyx]

welcome to illogicallyx! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

.・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

﹒⪩⪨﹒ rose | 22 | she/her | gemini | entp-t | occasional writer.

asks ❈ masterlist ❈ tags ❈ ao3 ❈ spotify

minors and ageless/blank blogs will be blocked.

© all rights reserved; illogicallyx on tumblr, 2024-2025. no reposts, translations, or any type of distribution allowed.

[stuckinapril]

I’ve been thinking a lot ab this

[tays-writing]

If you were sober | bonus chapter

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Bonus chapter from this series, but it can be read as a standalone perfectly!

CW: NSFW. Oral (fem receiving), pussy drunk gojo, kinda switch satoru, cowgirl

cr: _3aem

It turns out that the problem with holding back sexual tension with your best friend for more than half a decade is that once you finally get a taste, you can’t stop.

And you really didn’t stop.

The first weeks after confessing to each other were a haze of tangled sheets, breathless laughter, and the kind of intimacy that felt almost illegal. You had barely left any surface untouched. His bed, your bed, the couch, the shower, the kitchen counter, almost against the hallway wall because you just couldn’t wait.

The truth is that Satoru as a lover was just.. something else. He was clingy. Desperately so. 

He didn’t negotiate aftercare. After every round he’d pull you into his chest like he was afraid you’d disappear, kissing every inch of skin he could reach while murmuring “I love you” like a prayer he’d been holding back for years —which he had— He couldn’t go more than twenty-four hours without seeing you. He called you constantly when you were apart. And the word “wife” had already slipped from his mouth three times — once while he was still inside you.

And then there was the other discovery. Satoru apparently had a very strong submissive kink. One that seemed to exist for you and you alone. This man had never been submissive a day in his life, but right now he was looking at you like handing over control was the easiest, most natural decision he’d ever made.

“Baby… please” he begged, naked and panting, his wrists tied —by himself—to the headboard with his own tie. “Don’t pull away.”

You hovered over his face, thighs trembling on either side of his head, your dripping cunt just out of reach. He was hovering on the precipice of a breakdown, his pupils so dilated the blue was barely a memory.

“Is this where you want to be, Toru?” you whispered

“Yes—fuck, yes,” he whined, voice cracking. “Please. I can take it. Suffocate me. Just—fuck, just drown me in it. I want you to use me until I can’t breathe.”

You bit your lip at the desperation in his voice and finally lowered yourself onto his mouth.

Satoru moaned like he’d been granted heaven. His tongue immediately dragged through your soaked folds in one long, filthy stripe, collecting every drop of your arousal before he pointed it and pushed deep inside your tight hole. He fucked his tongue in and out of you with shameless hunger, wet, obscene slurping sounds echoing with every thrust.

“Fuck—” he gasped when you lifted just enough for him to speak. “Squeeze your thighs around my head. Trap me baby, please”

You obeyed, clenching your thighs around his face, and his resulting moan vibrated straight into your core. His eyes rolled back slightly, completely lost in submission.

He latched onto your swollen clit, sucking hard while his tongue flicked rapidly over it. 

“Harder, baby— please,” he begged between desperate licks. “This mouth is yours. Fuck my face however you want”

You obeyed, rolling your hips and pressing your weight down until his nose was buried against your clit and his mouth was completely sealed by your dripping folds. Satoru went feral. His tongue speared deep inside you, curling and thrusting while he sucked greedily on your juices. 

“Satoru—Fuck!”

Your orgasm crashed over you, your thighs locked violently around his head, smothering him completely as you rode his tongue. He kept licking and sucking through it all, whimpering and moaning into your spasming cunt. His hands, still tied above his head, clenched into fists as his hips bucked uselessly into the air, cock twitching and dripping precum.

Even after you started shaking, he didn’t stop. Only when you were nearly sobbing from the intensity did he finally soften his movements, pressing gentle, worshipful kisses to your swollen, sensitive pussy.

When you finally slid down his body, he was a mess: chest heaving, tears in his eyes, cock red and leaking against his stomach.

His vulnerability was intoxicating. You weren't used to this dynamic, but fuck, you discovered you enjoyed it. And the fact that it turned him on so much made it even better. 

You sank down onto him slowly, taking every inch. His head fell back with a broken moan.

“You’re so good,” he choked out “So fucking good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“Shh, Toru, don’t say that” you leaned down, kissing him.

“Tell me I’m yours” he gasped as you started moving. “Please, tell me I’m your good boy.”

You rode him harder, forehead pressed to his.

“You’re mine,” you breathed against his lips. “My good boy. Only mine.”

"Fuck" he gasped, his voice shredding, tears streaming into his hair  "You’re killing me. I’m going to die. I’m going to die right here and I don’t even care. Keep going, baby, please... you're doing so good, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He was panting, his eyes locked on yours with a terrifying amount of devotion, his face twisted in a mixture of agony and pure, overwhelming ecstasy. He was edging himself, his internal muscles clenching in agonizing rhythm with yours to draw out the pleasure. His whimpers turned into high, thin pleas as he dragged the sensation out, refusing to let it end until he was certain you were hovering right there with him.

"Say it" he sobbed

“I love you,” you gasped, your own climax beginning to crest again.

"I love you too" he roared, and as your inner walls clenched in a final, shuddering release, he finally let himself go. He came undone with a shattered whimper, sobbing your name, his hips jerking up desperately as he spilled inside you.

After catching his breath, he loosened the tie from his wrists and let it drop onto the sheets. 

Then he reached out, tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling you down until your heart was pressed firmly against his.

“You did so good” he murmured, stroking your back and kissing your hair. 

You laughed weakly, legs still trembling. “My legs are dead, Satoru.”

A laugh escaped him.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll massage those pretty legs until they stop shaking.”

He made you look up at him, his fingers gentle under your chin. Those impossibly soft blue eyes held yours, shining with quiet wonder, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were real — flushed, trembling, and entirely his.

“I wanna marry you.”

“Satoru…”

“Yes, wife?”

taglist: @wiserion @woonhaesan @thegirlwhowaited5everok @pandoras-boxof-secrets @mechun-blog @pjselee @cateleya21 @catkuna @senorita-awesomesauce

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[aurapalettes]

& you know what it actually IS lifechanging to smile at strangers & say please & thank you & goodmorning & compliment someones outfit & help someone in need & be more accepting of loving other people just because they are other people!!!

[brian4rmthe6]

[exile0nmainline]

Finally done!!! Idk wtf I ate to color like this

[brutalgrace333]

“Wild Geese”, by Mary Oliver

[mortalityplays]

here's a secret: whatever you're doing, you have to root for your peers with all your heart because it forces you to root for yourself too. I've seen people in various spheres of my life (workplaces, education, art, activism) fall into the trap of envy and resentment when they see others succeed while they struggle, and it always always goes hand in hand with them pulling back and giving up and stagnating.

when you let yourself get sour grapes about shit, you tacitly give up on yourself. when you sit around hoping other people will flop and fail so you can catch up to them, you stop trying. it's a fantasy of mediocrity, the vain wish that other people would walk so you could take the gold medal at a jog. wouldn't you rather come last place at 27mph?

[gabiwlove]

there is no reason 2 b a people pleaser ppl are nvr pleased.

[pearlvirag]

dex shoving ur face in the pillows while fucking u at ur parents house im cummminbvgggggggg

aaand he's so mean about it too. your back arched and he's disgustingly slow as he's stuffing you from behind in your old bed. right hand lost in your hair, pushing your face into the pillows so the only sound he heard is the squelch of your cunt. you wiggle your hips, urging him to go a little faster but he likes to fuck you slow. likes to see you desperate and stupid. beginning for more as if it doesn't make you cum harder when he treats you so delicately.

you notice you can feel your juices dripping down your thighs when he whispers, "baby couldn't wait to get her insides ruined until we get home, huh? you got to take what i give you now, then. before i change my mind." he threatened. you begged him to do it so he was rightfully punishing you. he never liked to fuck you in your parents house out of respect but you knew exactly how to get him into your panties.

you could only whine into the soft fabric of the cotton pillows that swallowed all of your sounds. his voice is what pushed you to the edge, your cunt feeling hotter and tighter suddenly and he decided to reach forward and play with your little clit. now you growl. "yeah honey, feels full doesn't it? you take it so good, i might just knock you up. want that?" his other hand slid in front of your mouth, lifting your head up as he set his pace faster when you started cumming. eyes rolling back, his hand tight on your mouth and you felt your body getting limb. he fucked you through it all before he would allow himself to cum inside you, filling your little cunt up.

[yuucide]

hi! do you have any long gojo fics? not multiple chapters or anything.

❤︎ long gojo fic recs ─── n(sfw)

𝒞　˳　 chasing cars ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ @hotties4gojo⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀6k wc : this is one of my favourite canon compliant fanfictions about gojo ever, the way they write about the angst and the feeling of doom and sadness is so impeccable omg. 　⏖

𝒞　˳　 pokerface ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ @screampied⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀5k wc : this is a screampied fanfiction. that's all you need to know to know it's gonna be amazing, just read her whole masterlist omg. 　⏖

𝒞　˳　 when did you get hot? ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ @po1x3n⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀4k wc : the creator deactivated but the link leads to the fic I reblogged, it's a really good read for nerds lovers! 　⏖

𝒞　˳　 end of our world ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ @kingkaisen⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀11k wc : the angst and smut in this one is so insane, one of the best apocalypse fanfictions everrrr! 　⏖

𝒞　˳　 king gojo ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ @tonycries⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀10.3k wc : since you didn't want chapters I couldn't rec other royal Aus with multiple parts, but this fanfic by Tony is so far the best royal one shot ive read! 　⏖

𝒞　˳　 stress eating has (delicious) repercussions ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ @iamsoclone⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀8.8k wc : the most accurate husband!gojo fanfic ever with the most scrumptious smut and fluff, like THIS is my man 　⏖

𝒞　˳　 allowed to love ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ @illumeew⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀8k wc : this one is so sweet and sfw and just UGH its so canon how gojo and you would be like in high school, the ending made me cry 　⏖

𝒞　˳　 the strongest fake boyfriend ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ @akariro⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀13.8k wc : fake dating au's are always either a hit or miss and this one is a straight hit, it was giving kdrama core omg 　⏖

𝒞　˳　 seven-forty-seven and other certainties @sixeyesonathiel⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀12.1k wc : athiel is one of the best writers on Tumblr for gojo and this is one of her best works if you want a sfw fanfic, check out her master list!　⏖

𑣲 send ask if you want different fic recommendations, or if you want your fic to be promoted !!!! ︵ Ꮺ

[aquaticmercy]

please tell me how Dex would react or what Dex would do if he finds out his north star’s abuser is already dead? Like how would he deal with this and find closure?

Dex Finds a Better Use For Your Abuser’s Grave

WC 1.9K

TW explicit sexual content (no explicit anatomy is mentioned as per usual), outdoor/cemetery sex, grave desecration, revenge sex, referenced past domestic abuse, throat holding/choking, degradation/praise, morally fucked-up catharsis.

Note: I am very much a believer that Dex is more submissive, but it’s scenarios like this that I think makes him a switch 🫠

Dex was already inside of you when the rain started.

It wasn’t much at first. It started a fine, cold mist over the cemetery, silvering the grass, darkening the fabric of your coat where it lay discarded near your feet. Then it got heavier, droplets catching in your lashes while your hands braced against the wet headstone and Dex held your hips from behind. 

Yes, Dex was fucking you over your abuser’s grave.

There was no better way to describe it.

You were bent over the polished stone of the man who used to call you a whiny bitch when you tried to stand up for yourself. The man who used to grab your wrist until your skin bloomed purple and then asked why you always made him act like this. The man who once shoved you into a kitchen counter hard enough to make your mouth bleed, then watched you press paper towels to your lips while he told you that nobody else would ever put up with you.

And Dex had you split open over the bastard’s grave.

His breath was hot against your ear. “You feel that?” he murmured.

You clenched around him before you could stop yourself.

Dex smiled against your neck. “Yeah,” he said, dragging himself almost all the way out before pushing back in slow enough to make your knees tremble. “You feel it.”

Your fingers curled against the stone. The name beneath your palm blurred under rainwater.

Dex’s hand slid up your spine, between your shoulder blades, and pressed you lower over the headstone. It wasn’t cruel, but he did just enough to make the point. 

“You cried over him,” Dex said, somehow still gentle with you. “Remember?”

You made a broken little sound, and Dex laughed under his breath. Every noise dragged out of you here was an insult aimed straight down into the dirt.

A week ago, you had told him everything.

It had come out in horrible little pieces while you sat on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest and Dex crouched in front of you, too still to be anything but dangerous.

You had told him he called you Stupid. Crazy. Ungrateful.

You told him he could make an apology sound like a confession of your own guilt. He would kiss your forehead after scaring you and say, “See? I can be nice when you give me what I want.”

Dex had stared at you. For a second, all he wanted was to kill him. Because how the fuck did anyone do that to his girl and get to keep breathing? But when you told him he was already dead, Dex realised revenge was going to require creativity.

“He made me feel like my body wasn’t mine,” you had whispered.

Dex had tilted his head and said, “Then take it back.”

At first, you had naively thought he meant healing. Therapy. Journaling. Breathing exercises. 

But you should’ve known Dex better than that when he said, “Use me.”

You had sniffled and stopped crying abruptly because what the fuck?

And now…

Now he was behind you, one hand planted beside yours on the headstone, his chest pressed to your back as he fucked you deep and slow over the bastard’s name.

He had thought about this. He had planned where your hands would go. Every thrust was meant to grind the memory of that man into dust beneath your feet.

“You were shaking when you told me,” Dex said.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He slid into you hard enough to make your breath break.

“You were so scared to say it out loud.” His voice dropped at your ear. “Like he’d crawl out of hell and punish you for tellin on him.”

Your eyes stung as Dex kissed your temple.

“But he can’t, can he?”

You finally managed a shaky laugh.

Dex’s hips slowed a bit at the sound.

“No,” he answered for you, smug. “He can’t do a fucking thing.”

He grabbed your jaw and turned your face just enough for him to look at you. Rain streaked down his face and made his mouth shine when he smiled at you like the whole thing was funny. Like the dead man under the dirt was the punchline.

“Look at you,” he murmured.

“Dex—”

“No, look at you.” His hand slid from your jaw to your throat, thumb resting under your chin, holding your head up. “Taking me so well on top of him.”

You tightened around him, wet and helpless, and Dex groaned. “There it is.”

You loved it.

“You like that?” he asked. “Being fucked over his dead body?”

Your mouth went dry. Dex thrust harder.

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

His laugh was breathless. “Filthy girl.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

Dex caught it, of course. His arm hooked around your waist and hauled you back onto him, keeping you pinned between his body and the stone. His belt knocked against his thigh with every thrust. His trousers were shoved down just enough. There was no romance here except the perverse kind, the kind where he would desecrate a grave if it made your hands stop shaking. If it meant you could reclaim your body.

“He called you stupid, didn’t he?” Dex said.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

His hand left your throat and smacked lightly against your thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to make you jolt.

“Eyes open, please.”

You opened them. The grave stared back.

Your ex’s name seemed small beneath your hands now.

“He called you pathetic,” Dex said, dragging his thrusts through you slow and deep. “And now you’re dripping down his stone because of me.”

You moaned. Dex hummed, pleased. “Wish he could hear that.”

“Dex.”

“Wish he could hear how pretty you sound when you’re not scared.” His fingers slid between your thighs and found your sensitive spot. “Should’ve heard what you sound like when somebody actually knows what to do with you.”

Your head dropped forward as his mouth pressed to your ear.

“Not him.”

His fingers circled.

“Me.”

Your hips jerked.

He laughed again, “Good girl.”

He wanted the dead bastard beneath you to know exactly who you answered to now.

Dex’s teeth scraped your shoulder through the damp fabric of your dress.

“He never deserved you,” he said, “but you know who does?”

You could barely breathe. “You.”

He exhaled a laugh that sounded half deranged.

“That’s right.”

And then he fucked you with hands locked on your hips and he drove into you hard enough to make your palms slip against the marble. The headstone bruised the heels of your hands as rain ran down your neck. Your dress clung to your thighs. Your underwear was stretched uselessly around one ankle, soaked through and ruined.

Dex fucked you over the grave with his mouth at your ear and his ego all over his voice. “You think he ever made you this wet?”

You mewled.“No.”

Dex groaned. “Louder.”

“No.”

“Ever made you beg?”

You shook your head.

Dex’s hand came back to your throat.

“No, he made you apologise.” His hips snapped forward. “Made you flinch.” Again. “Made you think you were too much.”

You were crying now, but the tears felt strange. Furious, but not helpless.

Dex must’ve noticed, because he smiled into your shoulder. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed. “You liked that.”

Dex’s fingers returned to rub rough circles that made your thighs tremble.

“Don’t you dare hold back,” he said.

You whimpered.

“You came here for this. So take it.”

“Dex—”

“Come on his grave.”

Your whole body locked.

Dex’s grip tightened, his voice going lower, filthier, as he nearly reached his high. 

“Do it. Do it with your hands on his name.”

You shattered.

There was nothing graceful when you came with a cry that tore out of you and vanished into the rain, your palms pressed hard to the headstone, your heat clenching around Dex while he held you upright and laughed against your neck like he had won a prize.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “That’s my girl. Fucking look at you.”

Your legs shook violently. He slowed, but didn’t stop, grinding deep into the aftershocks while your body twitched and fluttered around him.

“Bet he would hate this,” Dex said.

You were still clenching around him when he came.

He shoved deep and stayed there, hips jerking, teeth pressed to your shoulder, a wrecked groan vibrating against your skin as he filled you. His whole body shuddered once, twice, then went still, pinning you between himself and the grave.

Dex smiled wider as he collected his thoughts. It didn’t take too long to pull out, and you whined before you could stop yourself.

He turned you around with wet hands and pushed you back against the headstone so your spine met cold marble. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on his knees in the grass.

“Dex,” you breathed.

He looked up at you, rain in his hair, mouth curved in that calm, horrible little smile.

“What?”

You stared at him.

He dragged your thigh over his shoulder like he belonged there.

“You thought I was done being disrespectful?”

Then his mouth was on you.

Your head hit the stone.

He ate you out like he was proving a point to a corpse.

He was smug as hell every time your hips jerked against his face. His tongue dragged through the mess, tasting you, tasting what he left of himself there. When you tried to close your thighs, overstimulated and shaking, Dex simply pushed them open again and looked up at you like you were adorable.

“You can take it,” he murmured against you, and he was right. 

Your hand flew to his hair.

His eyes rolled for half a second before they snapped back to yours, delighted.

“There she is.”

He kept going until your thighs shook around his head, until your second orgasm climbed too fast for you to do anything but take it.

Dex watched your face the whole time.

You were not quiet, Dex made sure of that.

By the time he stood again, his lips were wet and swollen, his pupils blown so wide he barely looked human.

He kissed you hard, letting you taste yourself, letting you feel exactly how little shame he had about any of this.

For a few seconds, there was only rain and the dead silence beneath you.

Then Dex lifted his head, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself.

“Feel better?” he asked.

You stared at him.

He blinked, almost innocent.

You laughed, breathless and disbelieving. “You are unbelievable.”

Dex lowered you carefully, though he still looked far too smug for someone who had just committed several moral and possibly legal offences. He fixed your dress, tugged your coat around your shoulders, then crouched to pick up your wet underwear from the grass.

He pocketed them.

He took your hand, but stopped for a second before he moved.

For one second, you thought he was going to say something dramatic or violent, or something horrific enough that you’d have to pretend not to love him for it.

Instead, he looked at the grave and said, flatly, “She faked it with you.”

You choked. Then you giggled, cute and breathless, and all Dex could do was smile.

That was why he did it. That was the point. 

Because every time that man was mentioned, all you did was cry. His name was a trigger, a wound from beyond the grave and Dex couldn’t let that kind of pain continue for his girl, now can he?

So now, when you thought of him, you were going to remember this.

Fuck, Dex loved you so much.

He kissed your knuckles, then your forehead, and led you down the empty cemetery path.

Behind you, your ex stayed exactly where he belonged.

—

Note : this was written in like 30 minutes in a heatwave phew. 

[northw0man-deactivated20201019]

I will forever be profoundly unimpressed with people who take pride in their unkindness to others

[stuckinapril]

[stuckinapril]

[hanalia1257]

Me to my family