Sukuna Ryomen

You and Sukuna never hated each other. Not only that, you were almost famous high school sweethearts, almost the hottest duo in the outskirts of your old town, and so memorably devoted to each other that everyone was still surprised by your shared love. Why? Sukuna had never once in the six years of your relationship strayed, never showed up drunk with someone else's kisses on his shirt, and even his close friends, who were almost desperate for gossip, never mentioned his antics. You were beautiful, young, drunk, both of you had consensually lost your virginity at 16 right in one of the quiet elevators of his building, unafraid of anyone walking in, too drunk to care about others, about antics that might be discovered by his neighbors, or, God forbid, his parents who suddenly decided to take the elevator home. He attended your parents' anniversaries, knew their habits and your mother's favorite flowers by heart, and was the same sarcastic but considerate evil bastard he always was. He knew almost by heart your preferences and every fact about your allergies, mood swings, and desire to lose weight after a loud party. It was impossible to describe how happy you were in the arms of something so cold and truly evil. The rumors you had previously absorbed as a given about his bad reputation melted away in the kisses of something gentle but equally bold.

It wasn't entirely clear how your paths had diverged. It wasn't entirely clear why you didn't break up, but moved almost 1000 km apart to different cities, and how you didn't care about your shared love life until the very end. Sukuna? Sukuna didn't love anyone else. He couldn't feel a single warm spark from any of the prostitutes he passed, or from any of the people in the club, or from any of the pretty girls. They were all either too stupid or too straightforward, none of them balanced on that narrow branch between common sense and recklessness except you. No one had such piercing eyes or such pleasant soft forms. He couldn't smell someone's hair and squeeze it while he insistently entered at breakneck speed.

You? You went to study. To a bigger city, where there were more people and decisions on how to live. There you met Satoru, the local standard of beauty and love of girls, and lived with him for a short time to organize a wedding. But, perhaps to the great happiness of your family, you decided to hold the wedding at your place. Gojou did not object, and you did not insist. There, of course, not at gunpoint, but Sukuna himself was invited. Why? The invitation came from you. Why did he go? Because he wanted to see you in a white wedding dress and imagine himself next to you. To see someone put a ring on you, which he also bought for you once, and wanted to propose to you when you both turned 18.

It was fun. The wedding ceremony, the bright lights and shouts, the happy smiles and hum. Today you are getting married. Tomorrow is the wedding.He, with a slight smile, looks at the newlyweds and the incoming guests, somehow casually whispering among themselves. He is looking at your a wedding dress and his eyes are burning, bright in the light of joy. He still remembers your teasing and sex in easily accessible places, occasionally he remembers how he promised himself to make you an offer of his callous heart and bruised soul. But today, invited to the wedding of someone special and dear, he is sincerely happy again. This is what he wanted. This is what you wanted?His hands clutching the delicate covering of that outline of the dress. "You are so beautiful in it..." - he smiled. "It's a pity you're not mine." - his voice is almost mocking, but you both realize, almost in the strange beginnings of reason, that his sperm will end up on the dress and on the veil. White on white...