Unholy!

Epiphany

Note: Suku is a sicko o_o
TW: #bloodkink #sexual_content (#CNC)

---

Instinct isn't guidance, it's a gamble.
You're either wired to chase, or wired to run.
But no matter what you think you are, when the day comes, you'll learn, which instinct you've been given: the one of a carnivore or that of prey.

---

He followed him outside like a zombie. He doesn't know why. He doesn't know why he's not running away, screaming, after what just happened.
Instead, Megumi's eyes linger helplessly on Sukuna as the man drapes himself onto a bench inside the shadowed room they've entered, his broad back facing the boy, sculpted shoulders rising and falling in rhythmic, deliberate breaths.

„Ah, fuck", Sukuna snarls, voice edged in irritation. „That motherfucker ruined my shoes."

He kicks them off with careless elegance, then grasp the hem of his blood-soaked shirt, pulling upward slowly, revealing inch by inch of taut, battle-hardened skin beneath. The once white – now red fabric leaves streaks of crimson trailing provocatively across his defined body, before Sukuna tosses it aside. It lands on the floor with a wet slap.

A sigh follows, deep, weary, almost human, and Sukuna buries his face in his hands. His fingers rake through his hair, then down his face, smearing blood across sharp cheekbones and the bridge of his nose and Megumi sees the muscles in his back flex and shift like something wild, barely caged, each sinew glistening in that low light.

Silence settles over the room like a curtain, broken only by the rapid, thunderous beat of Megumi's heart echoing in his ears. His pulse drums against his skullcap, as if it were about to break through and he has no idea how to behave, what to think.

He looks down at his hands. Naoya's knife. It sits shakily in his palms. He can't even remember picking it up.

What should he do now? What should he feel?

If he's being honest, fear isn't even the dominant emotion drilling through his brain. It's a mixture of pain from the brutal reality that is once again crashing down on him unchecked and, in small parts, anger.

Though, he can't put his finger on who exactly he's angry at. Perhaps at Sukuna, who got him into this situation in the first place. Maybe at Naoya, who provoked all this. Maybe at himself for being so fucking foolish. But probably most of all at the fact that all this still doesn't scare him off enough to just cut and run.

He's still standing there, rooted to the spot and he would love to tell himself that he's horrified and shaken. But what he actually feels is something else. It's understanding.

For the first time, he has sees Sukuna's real nature, unfiltered and raw. A flicker of truth that scorches as much as it illuminates. Everything before this feels counterfeit in comparison. Every look, every word, every time he thought he understood what he was dealing with. He hadn't. Not until now.

Does this new revelation improve matters? Megumi isn't sure. But now at least he can no longer deny it – that deep down, he always knew.

The sudden creak of the door shatters the charged silence. Megumi startles, body tense, expecting another disaster, but it is only Uraume who slips quietly inside.

Her eyes briefly settle on Naoya's lifeless form, before scanning the slick crimson coating the floor and finally resting on Sukuna's blood-smeared figure. Her expression changes visibly, a rare display of genuine concern flashing across her typically composed features and she takes a step forward. As far as Megumi can remember, this might be the first time he's ever seen her show any emotion at all.