salaimoi

[salaimoi]

i love your theme! the graphics, the colors, the dividers—all of it just scratches my brain in the right way! it's so beautiful, so cutesies!!

and i love YOU, bootyful annon TYTYTYTYY 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

you want me so bad don’t you :3

[salaimoi]

if you had asked what gojo satoru's favorite color was, he'd passionately say it's pink. you might find yourself a little bit confused-- pink? you've never seen gojo wear pink before, hell, even talk about it. it seems so out of the blue. in fact, you might've assumed it was that very color. and if you were anywhere but inside the enigma that is gojo satoru's mind, you probably would have asked why. he'd give you a half-assed answer, something along the lines of 'pretty pink sunsets along the coast of japan', or perhaps the cherry blossom season in spring.

but if you were to ask him on a deeper level, in that secret little corner of his heart he keeps hidden from the world, he'd tell you that pink is his favorite color because it's the shade your cheeks turn when he's nearby. when he holds your hand, or gently rests his head on your shoulder, your cheeks bloom with a soft, tender pink—a color so delicate and beautiful that he's fallen completely in love with it. it's a shade he cherishes more than anything else, and if you told him there was a prettier hue he'd simply refuse to believe you.

and so maybe, just maybe, on the extra bad days where he feels like everything is completely worthless, he'll find his arms slinking around your waist and burying his head in the safety of your neck, just to feel your heartbeat quicken and your face turn that color he admires most in this world. and maybe it makes his everything hurt a little less.

perhaps one day he'll tell you why he loves pink so much. but for now, he keeps that little secret to himself, holding it close to his heart, a precious thing for him to cherish alone.

© SUNTORU 2022-2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[salaimoi]

i’ve always wanted to be one of those mysterious, cool girls. unfortunately, the only mystery when it comes to me is figuring out when i’ll shut the fuck up.

[salaimoi]

cw: implied suicide, concubine reader, grieving sukuna.

As the final hour approached and the evening shadows crept across the horizon, the air became heavy with an unspoken sense of impending finality. The room was swathed in red, lit by feeble flickering torches that cast erratic shadows on the walls, welcoming an eerie ambience in their path. The atmosphere in the room grew thicker, the scent of incense mingling with the faint but distinct whiff of death in a sickeningly sweet blend.

Ryomen Sukuna’s red eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, betraying no emotion; this was not unusual. As the King of Curses, he had no need for emotions. He had never been one to care for anything or anyone, and his cold demeanor was a testament to that. But that belief was shattered the moment he stepped foot into your final resting place, forcing Sukuna to halt in place as he stared down at your body in a mix of perplexity and irritation.

“Had one too many drinks, hmm?” Sukuna rolled his eyes half annoyed, body dipping slightly so his hand could latch onto your wrist tightly. He tugged your arm upwards in an attempt to force you to stand up, still under the naive impression that you were just passed out drunk. His brows furrowed in suspicion the moment he noticed how you hung limp like a rag doll — head falling back on your shoulders while he held onto you. 

"Quit playing dead, woman. I’m not in the mood for your theatrics right now." Sukuna growled, his patience running thin with you.

The only response he received in return was a blood-curdling silence.

"Concubine?" He murmured, his tone low and raspy as panic subtly overtook the stoic man’s features in a matter of seconds. He desperately grabbed at your frame, shaking it once more in a futile attempt to force you to open your eyes — to make you say something, but it was all fruitless effort. The only thing he could do was stare blankly at you, as if his mind refused to process what was going on. “I see.” He mutters under his breath, slowly squatting before you as he continues holding onto your arm. His breath momentarily hitched in his throat as he scooped your static body in his arms, refusing to let go despite the coldness of your skin; there was no warmth whatsoever left in your body. The only thing left was regret and an immense pain as he realized this was the last chance he'd ever have to see you. To talk to you. 

"Is it an apology you’re looking for?” He finally whispered, choking back on the heavy lump of grief and heartache lodged in the back of his throat.  “I'm sorry, okay?" 

The desperation in his voice was clear as he repeated himself over and over. He knew he was grasping at straws, his apology and pleas falling on deaf ears — ears that were no longer attached to a living body. Whatever words he spoke were only met with a soul-killing silence. The body of the concubine he never dared admit to actually needing, was no longer a body; it was a corpse. And even so, he didn't feel like letting go — as if his refusal to do so could somehow force you back to life. 

His panic spread like wildfire the longer he held you, because everything he'd come to know about you, every moment shared together, all of it was no more. Your body remained unresponsive and dull, eyes shut as if you were asleep or in some kind of trance. Even the way the light from the ceiling bounced off your soft and pale skin, to the curve of your lips as he remembered them from days ago, was all surreal. But he refused to accept that this was what it looked like — that his concubine was gone just like that. 

He had never felt this way before — not even with any of his previous concubines. Every other one, he would have left to their own devices, not caring in the slightest about what became of them. But this concubine... this one was different. She made him feel things he'd spent his entire life avoiding. Sukuna didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid; he was afraid of accepting the harsh, cruel reality that you were no longer here. If he held onto you tightly enough, or if he refused to let you go, maybe, just maybe, he thought, this could somehow be a nightmare — just one big cruel, sick joke. And when he wakes up, everything will be back to normal. Back to the way things used to be between the two of you.

But despite his optimistic outlook, even he couldn’t forgo the harsh, bitter reality that laid just outside the boundaries of his dreams. 

"Concubine," he murmured, his voice barely even a whisper. "I don't want to," trembling from the trepidation he felt, his voice dropped to a whimper.

"I can’t do this without you.” 

His words came out weak and pathetic, but they still held true nonetheless. There was so much more he wanted to say to you during your final moments in his arms, but he couldn't bring himself to continue. All throughout his life, Sukuna was afraid of being, well, human. The reality was he was just as weak as you, but it took losing you in order to discover this bitter truth about himself. Emotions equaled weakness to him, so he never demonstrated an ounce of care for your existence. He never married, afraid his enemies would come after the only person he truly treasured in this miserable life. And yet, his beloved fled his side on her own accord.

Was he really that unlovable? Was the afterlife pleasant in all the ways his presence wasn’t? 

He hated himself for ever treating you like he had, for not telling you how much he loved you while your eyes still fluttered at the sight of him, but it was too late now. You were gone. Even if he couldn’t confirm it, the heavens must be delighted to finally have a real angel in their mix. All he could wish for now was that it enveloped you in the ways he never did. 

Maybe in another life he’ll tell you how much he loved your irritating defiance. The way you didn’t fear him the same way others did. The way you let your presence be known when you entered a room. The way you voiced thoughts others didn’t dare voice. 

Maybe in another life he’ll allow himself to be human for a change. 

For you.  

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈.ᐟ only adding this because of @luvvsoft ‘s response when beta reading LOL

i’m so sorry that he only addresses reader as concubine even in her final moments, i just really loatheeeee using y/n ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა ⠀

[salaimoi]

“How long?”

“…”

“For how goddamn long, TOJI!?”

“Baby, listen plea-“

An antique and well-known wine brand bottle hurtles across the room, shattering into a million fragments dangerously close to your husband’s head. The absurdly overpriced wine once filling your cup now coats the entirety of the hotel room walls, bearing witness to your betrayal in a vivid crimson-red. Yet, even as anger wells in your chest, it sinks like a stone in your gut, leaving you too hollow to feel the fury you know is there. You’re almost grateful for it — without that sinking weight, you’re sure cardiac arrest would’ve been the one knocking at your door in the next 3 seconds, rather than housekeeping.

You scoff, clenching up your fists until the tender flesh of your palms goes numb from the pressure. It was nothing compared to the internal agony. “Baby.” The word repeats in your mind like a faithless prayer, an echo of something once comforting, now tainted. Baby — a moniker that was never yours alone. Some sweet pet name wasn’t going to get him out of years of deceit and manipulation. Years of him convincing you you were crazy and nothing more.

It hurt. But truth was, as much as you knew you still needed him here, all the proof you needed to leave was spelled out in the agonizing pain gripped in your chest whenever you pictured him doing what you were right about all along. But how could he? How could he lie to you all these years, tearing you apart piece by piece in the process?

Your train of thought is suddenly derailed halfway to the station when you feel a pair of warm hands caressing your own; a blatantly shameless man squatting before you in an attempt to meet your gaze.

“You think I don’t know what you did?” Toji shakes his head in response, a pathetic expression plastered across his, once lovable, face. Now all it was to you was punchable, but he interrupted you before the thought could even process.

“I know you know,” he sighs defeatedly. “But I promise you, we can get through this.”

When you made your vows to each other, you promised yourselves: through thick and thin, for better or for worse. But was a signed piece of paper there to comfort you late at night when you lay inconsolable, picturing your lover holding someone else in his arms? You didn’t need to hire the city’s best photographer to picture what it was like — it played vividly in your mind: them together, moments after he’d hung up the phone with you. An empty verbal agreement wasn’t going to fill your cup while your deceitful husband was busy pouring an alcohol one down his throat, a sweet piece of candy nestled on his lap.

But whatever excuse he had concocted to coerce you back into his life wouldn’t work this time around, because he made it clear you weren’t the only one he wanted in it.

pt 1 here.

[salaimoi]

i’m too pretty to go to work UGHHH

[salaimoi]

“baby stop im trying to read”

“what do you mean ma im just getting warm”

toji was in fact not just getting warm. his big calloused palms were currently underneath your (his) shirt fondling your tits. it wasn’t uncommon for toji to have his hands on your breasts as you read before bed. He used them like stress relievers. warm and soft and comforting to the touch. you had your kindle in one hand and the other placed on his head gently rubbing at his scalp as he nosed his way into the crevice of your neck.

“fuck baby you smell so good. you always smell so clean and vanillery.”

that made you smile.

“yeah i know i smell great.”

he laughed at that because yes you did always smell great. god he was so comfortable right now. nothing on the planet could top this for him. with your boobs in his palms toji could overcome anything. his touch became a bit heated and you knew this would soon be escalating. but you weren’t going to be the one giving in, if he wanted you he was going to have to ask. carefully his fingers began to pinch at your nipples and he knew he had you right where he wanted you when you began to mewl at his touch.

“what are you reading about that’s got you like this baby? are you cheating on me?”

“how’s it cheating if i’m reading you buffoon? and you know exactly why.”

he couldn’t help but smile at the easy banter that was so common between the two of you.

“want me to do to you whatever you’re reading about?”

and just as toji began to hike up your shirt with the intention of putting his mouth to work you both heard a slight little patter of feet on the hard wood floor. you couldn’t see anything due to the darkness in the room but you were pretty sure someone was here. toji lifted his head up with his hands still holding your chest under your shirt and craned his neck over the edge of the bed when he felt a little finger pat his shoulder.

“daddy i did sick”

“oh megs for fucks sake.”

authors note: i didn’t expect to receive so much love on this lil drabble! thank you so much lovely people

[salaimoi]

“How long?”

“…”

“For how goddamn long, TOJI!?”

“Baby, listen plea-“

An antique and well-known wine brand bottle hurtles across the room, shattering into a million fragments dangerously close to your husband’s head. The absurdly overpriced wine once filling your cup now coats the entirety of the hotel room walls, bearing witness to your betrayal in a vivid crimson-red. Yet, even as anger wells in your chest, it sinks like a stone in your gut, leaving you too hollow to feel the fury you know is there. You’re almost grateful for it — without that sinking weight, you’re sure cardiac arrest would’ve been the one knocking at your door in the next 3 seconds, rather than housekeeping.

You scoff, clenching up your fists until the tender flesh of your palms goes numb from the pressure. It was nothing compared to the internal agony. “Baby.” The word repeats in your mind like a faithless prayer, an echo of something once comforting, now tainted. Baby — a moniker that was never yours alone. Some sweet pet name wasn’t going to get him out of years of deceit and manipulation. Years of him convincing you you were crazy and nothing more.

It hurt. But truth was, as much as you knew you still needed him here, all the proof you needed to leave was spelled out in the agonizing pain gripped in your chest whenever you pictured him doing what you were right about all along. But how could he? How could he lie to you all these years, tearing you apart piece by piece in the process?

Your train of thought is suddenly derailed halfway to the station when you feel a pair of warm hands caressing your own; a blatantly shameless man squatting before you in an attempt to meet your gaze.

“You think I don’t know what you did?” Toji shakes his head in response, a pathetic expression plastered across his, once lovable, face. Now all it was to you was punchable, but he interrupted you before the thought could even process.

“I know you know,” he sighs defeatedly. “But I promise you, we can get through this.”

When you made your vows to each other, you promised yourselves: through thick and thin, for better or for worse. But was a signed piece of paper there to comfort you late at night when you lay inconsolable, picturing your lover holding someone else in his arms? You didn’t need to hire the city’s best photographer to picture what it was like — it played vividly in your mind: them together, moments after he’d hung up the phone with you. An empty verbal agreement wasn’t going to fill your cup while your deceitful husband was busy pouring an alcohol one down his throat, a sweet piece of candy nestled on his lap.

But whatever excuse he had concocted to coerce you back into his life wouldn’t work this time around, because he made it clear you weren’t the only one he wanted in it.

pt 1 here.

[salaimoi]

“it’s not that bad, baby, can’t we just try again?”

virgin!satoru looks up at you from where his chin rests on your stomach, though you aren’t sure you can call him a virgin anymore. he holds your thighs apart, your sore pussy on sweet display for him. he presses a gentle kiss to your clit, which pulls a moan from you, but you stand strong.

“no way,” you shake your head. “absolutely fucking not. you’re… way too big.”

satoru grins, “thank you!”

“i’m not complimenting you, asshole,” you try and shift away from him, but gojo has your hips pressed into the mattress. “it hurts, toru. it’s too much.”

another kiss to your clit. “but she’s so needy for me,” he whines. “cant you see? so fucking wet… she can take me.”

“i can’t. it won’t fit.”

you didn’t think his pretty baby-blues could darken, but they do. satoru, your sweetheart, nips at your clit—only barely, but enough to make you gasp.

“you will,” he says, voice low. “i’ll make it fit.”

you can’t deny it, his tone only makes you even needier. you write under his grip, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips—he’s appraising you, studying his prey before bouncing. and he’s the virgin.

“oh, and after i fuck you, can we go get sushi?”

you blink at him. “what?”

“you know,” he scoots himself up and taps the head of his aching cock against your clit a few times. “to celebrate making it fit.”

[salaimoi]

i’m FINALLY gonna make a part 2 to my toji, wildflower fic ! inspired by ‘ i’m not the only one ‘ by sam smith.

[salaimoi]

cw: implied suicide, concubine reader, grieving sukuna.

As the final hour approached and the evening shadows crept across the horizon, the air became heavy with an unspoken sense of impending finality. The room was swathed in red, lit by feeble flickering torches that cast erratic shadows on the walls, welcoming an eerie ambience in their path. The atmosphere in the room grew thicker, the scent of incense mingling with the faint but distinct whiff of death in a sickeningly sweet blend.

Ryomen Sukuna’s red eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, betraying no emotion; this was not unusual. As the King of Curses, he had no need for emotions. He had never been one to care for anything or anyone, and his cold demeanor was a testament to that. But that belief was shattered the moment he stepped foot into your final resting place, forcing Sukuna to halt in place as he stared down at your body in a mix of perplexity and irritation.

“Had one too many drinks, hmm?” Sukuna rolled his eyes half annoyed, body dipping slightly so his hand could latch onto your wrist tightly. He tugged your arm upwards in an attempt to force you to stand up, still under the naive impression that you were just passed out drunk. His brows furrowed in suspicion the moment he noticed how you hung limp like a rag doll — head falling back on your shoulders while he held onto you. 

"Quit playing dead, woman. I’m not in the mood for your theatrics right now." Sukuna growled, his patience running thin with you.

The only response he received in return was a blood-curdling silence.

"Concubine?" He murmured, his tone low and raspy as panic subtly overtook the stoic man’s features in a matter of seconds. He desperately grabbed at your frame, shaking it once more in a futile attempt to force you to open your eyes — to make you say something, but it was all fruitless effort. The only thing he could do was stare blankly at you, as if his mind refused to process what was going on. “I see.” He mutters under his breath, slowly squatting before you as he continues holding onto your arm. His breath momentarily hitched in his throat as he scooped your static body in his arms, refusing to let go despite the coldness of your skin; there was no warmth whatsoever left in your body. The only thing left was regret and an immense pain as he realized this was the last chance he'd ever have to see you. To talk to you. 

"Is it an apology you’re looking for?” He finally whispered, choking back on the heavy lump of grief and heartache lodged in the back of his throat.  “I'm sorry, okay?" 

The desperation in his voice was clear as he repeated himself over and over. He knew he was grasping at straws, his apology and pleas falling on deaf ears — ears that were no longer attached to a living body. Whatever words he spoke were only met with a soul-killing silence. The body of the concubine he never dared admit to actually needing, was no longer a body; it was a corpse. And even so, he didn't feel like letting go — as if his refusal to do so could somehow force you back to life. 

His panic spread like wildfire the longer he held you, because everything he'd come to know about you, every moment shared together, all of it was no more. Your body remained unresponsive and dull, eyes shut as if you were asleep or in some kind of trance. Even the way the light from the ceiling bounced off your soft and pale skin, to the curve of your lips as he remembered them from days ago, was all surreal. But he refused to accept that this was what it looked like — that his concubine was gone just like that. 

He had never felt this way before — not even with any of his previous concubines. Every other one, he would have left to their own devices, not caring in the slightest about what became of them. But this concubine... this one was different. She made him feel things he'd spent his entire life avoiding. Sukuna didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid; he was afraid of accepting the harsh, cruel reality that you were no longer here. If he held onto you tightly enough, or if he refused to let you go, maybe, just maybe, he thought, this could somehow be a nightmare — just one big cruel, sick joke. And when he wakes up, everything will be back to normal. Back to the way things used to be between the two of you.

But despite his optimistic outlook, even he couldn’t forgo the harsh, bitter reality that laid just outside the boundaries of his dreams. 

"Concubine," he murmured, his voice barely even a whisper. "I don't want to," trembling from the trepidation he felt, his voice dropped to a whimper.

"I can’t do this without you.” 

His words came out weak and pathetic, but they still held true nonetheless. There was so much more he wanted to say to you during your final moments in his arms, but he couldn't bring himself to continue. All throughout his life, Sukuna was afraid of being, well, human. The reality was he was just as weak as you, but it took losing you in order to discover this bitter truth about himself. Emotions equaled weakness to him, so he never demonstrated an ounce of care for your existence. He never married, afraid his enemies would come after the only person he truly treasured in this miserable life. And yet, his beloved fled his side on her own accord.

Was he really that unlovable? Was the afterlife pleasant in all the ways his presence wasn’t? 

He hated himself for ever treating you like he had, for not telling you how much he loved you while your eyes still fluttered at the sight of him, but it was too late now. You were gone. Even if he couldn’t confirm it, the heavens must be delighted to finally have a real angel in their mix. All he could wish for now was that it enveloped you in the ways he never did. 

Maybe in another life he’ll tell you how much he loved your irritating defiance. The way you didn’t fear him the same way others did. The way you let your presence be known when you entered a room. The way you voiced thoughts others didn’t dare voice. 

Maybe in another life he’ll allow himself to be human for a change. 

For you.  

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈.ᐟ only adding this because of @luvvsoft ‘s response when beta reading LOL

i’m so sorry that he only addresses reader as concubine even in her final moments, i just really loatheeeee using y/n ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა ⠀

[salaimoi]

hey…

[salaimoi]

oh my god did i actually delete my tag system post on accident

[salaimoi]

٠࣪⭑𓂃 ࣪˖ tag system .ᐟ ་༘࿐

✰ hot men near you are online .ᐟ : works where multiple characters are involved

✰ _ is online .ᐟ : my works for that specific character

gojodagoat - gojo satoru

chosocat - choso kamo

taxevader - toji fushiguro

20fingercombo - ryomen sukuna

✰ ˚₊‧꒰ა – chat room – ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ : asks / inbox

✰ ˚₊‧꒰ა – back rooms – ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ : random yapping

✰ ˚₊‧꒰ა – ad break – ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ : reblogs / fic suggestions

[salaimoi]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 — 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒔𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔] after his wife’s death, you became toji fushiguro’s only reliant shoulder. however, unbeknownst to you, your deceased friend’s ex-husband had ulterior motives in mind when he began to pursue you.

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆] angst

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒘𝒄] 2.k

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔] yellow is reader’s pov, blue is toji’s pov. it might sound repetitive and rushed bc i just wanted to get this out of my drafts. i know billie’s song came out like ages ago so it wouldn’t make sense to release this any later than it already is

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart. I wasn't there, but I know.

toji always reassured you a million times; he wasn’t heartbroken over his split with his ex-wife, not in the slightest. he rarely opened up about his past, let alone his previous relationships. and yet, deep down, you knew he hadn’t properly processed their rupture.

the most he ever disclosed to you was the fact that there was nothing left to salvage in his old relationship — so he moved on, and so did she. 

but was that the entire truth? 

you noticed the prolonged glances he would take when opening his wallet. the empty look behind his eyes when he stared down at his naked ring finger. even the faint sniffling at night that he tried convincing you were nothing more than allergies. but you knew he was silently mourning her. 

her – the real love of his life.

She was my girl. I showed her the world, but fell out of love and we both let go. ⋆࿐

i made it my life goal to tend to her happiness. the only reason for my very existence was to see that she had everything she could ever want. hell, that’s the only thing i’ve ever been good at.

i never kept anything from her — except my line of work. i couldn’t bring myself to tell her the man she fell in love with was a deadbeat mercenary who bathed in the blood of others for a living. as much as i tried to protect her from that side of my life, she eventually went digging her nose where it wasn’t needed. 

the aftermath of her discovering the truth about my hidden agenda came at the price of our relationship. 

she couldn’t withstand the constant pain of being by my side any longer, to turn in bed only to see a bastard by her side. she wholeheartedly believed that the man that now stood before her was no longer the one she fell in love with. 

somehow i didn’t blame her.

She was cryin’ on my shoulder. All I could do was hold her.

i still remember it so vividly — how her body trembled against mine like a leaf. tears coursed down her cheeks as she clung to me like a lifeline, seeking comfort in the midst of her anguish. as selfish as it may sound, the weight of her sorrow became almost too much to bear. 

i couldn't offer excuses or apologies; these were empty gestures that wouldn't alleviate the agony she felt at that moment. instead, i stood there, silently holding her, offering my presence as the only comfort.

the guilt washed over me in waves as i cradled her, feeling her heart shatter a little more with each sob. i knew i was the cause of her pain, yet i couldn’t tell her the whole truth. all i could do was hold her, wishing i could undo the past.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Only made us closer until July.

the moment he began pursuing you when enough time had gone by, it immediately felt wrong. he was your friend’s ex-husband, after all. toji had never looked at you twice before, and now, he suddenly had lustful eyes for you? 

you eventually conceded because you wanted to be there for him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he had no ulterior motives. but one way or another, every conversation at dinner circled back to her. 

“oh she loved mashed potatoes.” 

“fun fact, she had a strawberry allergy.” 

“did you know this brand of vanilla ice cream was her favorite?”

and as much as it pained you, you became a reliant ear for him — someone who would listen to all the little details he swore he had forgotten the day she divorced him. even if every bone in your body wanted to run in the opposite direction, far, far away from him, you stayed. 

maybe all he needs is time, you told yourself.

right?

Now I know that you love me. You don't need to remind me. I should put it all behind me, shouldn't I? ⋆࿐

your affection always remained a constant in my turbulent world, like a gentle rain that falls softly even amidst the storm. but the longer the internal storm went on, the more ravenous the regret and guilt raged on. i found myself unable to fully comprehend the depth of your love for me, but deep down, i knew that your love was unwavering. 

i knew that in order to truly move on, i had to let go of the past and embrace the present; you represented that fresh start i so urgently needed. but the thought of her still lingered, a constant reminder of what once was but should no longer be. it was as if i was being consumed by my own memories, unable to break free. as if a part of me still longed for the past. 

the weight of my conflicting emotions burdened my every waking moment, leading me to push you away with no explanation. feelings for the both of you coexisted, and i couldn't fully commit to one without betraying the other. every time i looked at you, guilt would wash over me for putting you through this hell.

 likewise, every time i looked at her picture, i felt like a traitor for ever moving on as soon as i did.

But I see her in the back of my mind all the time. Just like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign. ⋆࿐

beneath the mask of indifference, i was plagued by shame. it was hard to accept that the girl who once consumed my thoughts was no longer part of my life, and looking at you, i realized that your love knew no bounds; that wasn’t enough for me. 

i hadn’t stopped loving her. 

it felt like a fever that never broke. an unrelenting heat that burned deep inside me, reminding me of the girl who dwelled in the back of my mind all those years ago.

every word about my past, every little detail about my ex, felt like a confession at church – a church where my sins would be revealed to the world. 

talking about my past wouldn’t magically absolve me of my past, now would it? redemption was never an option for me, and i wasn’t asking for it. instead of trying to cleanse myself of my history, i decided to leave it all behind like a forgotten box in an attic. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Well, good things don't last, and life moves so fast. I'd never ask who was better 'cause she couldn't be more different from me.

he told you to let it go — to let it die like she did that fateful day. it was no use keeping her memory alive, he said, but if that was the case, why did he take her last name months later? 

not to mention they spent years together — even conceived a child together; a child he named after her, but that detail never seemed to make its way to you. 

everyone told you to stop comparing yourself, but how could you not? she was everything you weren’t even after death: soft spoken, graceful, gentle, patient, loving. 

you didn’t dare ask such a redundant question so you didn’t voice it, but your continuous comparison to her was eating you alive; toji noticed it. you hadn’t slept with him in almost a month, internally afraid he’ll blurt out her name instead of yours.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 And I know that you love me. you don't need to remind me.

he went out of his way to send more ‘i love u’ messages than before; they seemed forced, just like your relationship. 

she had previously informed you of things that found their way to the most profound recesses of your mind. you didn’t flinch at the time, because you were mesmerized that he did such things for her, but it affected you later on. 

you learned bitter truths that made you doubt his love for you. and when you finally realized he didn’t do any of the things she spoke of, it dawned on you; toji didn’t love you. 

not like he loved her. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 You say no one knows you so well but every time you touch me, I just wonder how she felt.

you’d stay up late at night countless times wondering what toji’s affectionate touch actually felt like. it was something only she ever knew, and you’d do anything to get a semblance of that feeling. 

but it was obvious no one knows the real him — not like she did.

despite everything, you decided to give this relationship one last try by booking a hotel for the both of you. everything inside you screamed that it was a horrible idea, but you did it anyway.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Valentine's Day, cryin’ in the hotel. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, so I kept it to myself.

and he finally did it. he mistakenly blurted out her name on the most romantic day of the year. 

“i-i’m sorry.” toji rushed to apologize, grabbing a hold of your arm so you wouldn’t walk out the door.

“I wonder, do you see HER in the back of your mind, in my eyes!?” was the only thing you could force yourself to reply in that moment, breaking away from his grip in the process.  

“i do,” toji dejectedly admits with a hint of sorrow behind his voice. or was it indignity?

he pauses, absentmindedly digging his nails into the tender flesh of his balled up fist as he grapples with his conscience. all along, he knew the day to finally hold himself accountable would come, but he didn’t think it would’ve been like this. 

his mind involuntarily wandered, and in the depths of your gaze, he saw glimpses of his deceased wife — a ghost that lingered in the back of his subconscious even after all this time.  

memories of her flood his mind, and for a brief moment, the both of you merge into one — his past and present colliding into one. the familiar shade of your irises, the identical shine behind them, the bright glimmer of light behind them when you smiled — all of it brought a pang of bittersweet nostalgia to him. 

silence overtook the room like a storm, and with it, your heart. so he does see a reflection of his dead wife when he stares into your eyes — the eyes he promised captivated him to no bounds. 

“was all of it a lie, then?” 

“no.” 

“how was it not a lie, toji?”

“it wasn’t a lie, doll-“ 

“don’t call me that.” you interrupt him with words almost sharp enough to cut him, a slight tremble behind your voice. 

tears immediately welled up in the delicate corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. his expression softened at the sight; however, his reluctance to approach you remained. he knew he was the reason behind your hurt, just like he was the cause of hers all that time ago. history does indeed repeat itself, doesn’t it? 

he wished he could find the words that would help ease your pain — the exhaustion and heartache you felt. to take it all away with a mere sentence, that would be quite incredible. but that’s not how life works.

“okay.” he finally whispered, inhaling a deep breath in a mix of defeat and remorse before continuing. “i promise none of it was a lie; i meant every word. i really meant it when i said i adored your eyes…” 

he dry swallows a couple of times, as if doing so would suppress the sorrow lodged in his throat. his eyes darted around the room, as to not meet your own out of the unbearable guilt that simply refused to be consumed. 

the hesitation behind his subtle actions was a telltale that there was a ‘but’ hidden underneath the surface-level flattery. and with an equal amount of incertitude and delay behind your own words, alongside with a hoarse voice, you brace yourself for the moment he finally admits this so-called love of yours was nothing but an illusion.

“but?” 

“…but they’re not her eyes.” 

[salaimoi]

[salaimoi]

if i wrote a sukuna fic where…reader is obsessed with him…would u guys still love me