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“I can help you, you know,” Megumi offered as Gojo packed up his suitcase.
“Yes, you definitely could,” There was an or coming - “Or,” There it was. “You could clean the apothecary. It’s disgusting.”
“It’s disgusting because you never clean up after yourself.”
“Why would I clean up after myself when I have an apprentice who is so much better at it?”
Megumi was going to punch him. Man of the cloth be damned. If anything that made him deserve it. Gojo had found Megumi and carried him home to his chapel that he insisted was now their chapel. A rickety thing held together by salvaged woods and sheer force of will. By faith. Gojo, if anything, seemed to have an abundance of that.
But faith was strong. Megumi didn’t ever question that; even if he questioned everything else. He had seen the exorcisms, even if just from a distance. The way Gojo had to roll up his sleeves and hold people to the ground and chant in dead tongues until the screaming would finally stop. He’d taught Megumi the words, the prayers, the motions.
Megumi tried again, following Gojo as he wandered deeper into their catacombs, grabbing items seemingly at random. “The woman said it was the whole town. Crops, livestock, children-”
“It’s a mess,” Gojo agreed.
“So wouldn’t it be better if I actually helped?” A frustration Megumi didn’t usually allow himself slipped through, “How am I ever going to be helpful if you don’t let me be?”
Gojo paused. Stones echoed his halted step around them both. Megumi was ready with a retort, arguments bubbling up his throat for whatever smiling nonsense Gojo would say next. But Gojo didn’t smile - at least not how he usually did. It was softer, understanding without condescending. Somehow so much worse.
“You’re not ready yet,” Gojo hummed, hand in Megumi’s hair. “Soon, but not yet.”
Gojo’s sleeve had pulled up as his arm extended. Striking thick black ink over milk translucent wrists. Scribed and etched deep until blood had stained the floorboards beneath him. They had hurt. Megumi knew they had. His own had seared. Like fresh brands with each fall of the needle. He’d even needed to go to a doctor after - fever reducers shoved past gritted teeth as his skin reacted in, what Doctor Ieiri had called, “The worst allergic reaction she’d seen in years.”
Gojo said it was the ingredients. Herbs not meant for consumption but necessary for ritual. Like a virus invading the body before immunity could settle. Megumi had understood, had trusted Gojo and the forbidden knowledge he carried. So he bit deep into the belt Gojo jammed between his teeth and bore it. Over and over. Until his arms and back and chest were swirled with protections and blessings.
Gojo had said, after he’d finished the final one, washing Megumi’s back with a cold rag that felt like being serrated on his raw and open back, that they suited Megumi. A blessing himself.
Megumi had asked if Gojo had chosen that name. Probably as a sick joke. But Gojo said it was the only word Megumi had known when he found him. So why not keep it?
Father Gojo Satoru. Megumi didn’t have a last name. Just the ink and cloth on his back that Gojo provided. Trained him with. Prepared him with.
And for what?
“Gojo -”
“Someone has to stay here,” Gojo said with finality. “Give confession, pretend to stumble through a sermon if you feel like it,” Megumi could never, “Fair enough. Not a public speaker.”
Megumi moved away from the ruffling hand with a huff. Gojo just laughed - settled back into the carefree demeanor that didn’t match his sacrilegious skin and cold eyes.
“I’ll be back in four days. Five if it rains.” It usually did. Gojo deserved something to cleanse his shit attitude.
The young priest watched Gojo grab his coat, thick wool to protect from elements that never seemed to phase him. Father Gojo was, after all, a man of God. And a man of God didn’t need to fear anything with a solid faith.
Megumi shivered as the doors swung open.
“Be safe,” He groused.
“I always am,” Gojo sang.
“What if someone needs an exorcism?” Megumi tried, hopeful for approval. Allowance.
Gojo cackled from the back of the carriage. “The only thing in this town that needs fixing is the brat down the road. You have my full permission to exorcise Rika!”
“Then who would throw rocks at you?” Megumi yelled back.
Gojo made a crude gesture. Man of the cloth his ass.
-----
Megumi would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered a new career choice, seeing as he hardly even chose this one to begin with, but Nobara had just laughed at him too. She was skilled, had her own starting business in masonry and could probably snap Megumi in half with that hammer she swung around. Half the time it seemed like she wanted to.
“What else would you do?” She scoffed, nudging the board beneath them until Megumi balanced it correctly.
Megumi thought about it. “Help people?”
“You help plenty of people,” The hammer came down with a crack, “They look at you and thank God they can run from your cranky ass.”
“Lord’s name,” he huffed, red dusting his cheek in annoyance.
“Pfft - shut it. They’re thanking God ‘cause of you so you’re bringing them closer to Him. Isn’t that a priest’s job?”
“If you ask Father it’s to hunt demons.”
Nobara laughed again as the hammer sunk the nail home, “When was the last time you saw a demon?” She teased.
Megumi blinked. “Are you saying you’re not one?”
Yeah, she’d probably kill him if he ever gave her the chance.
-----
Nobara always had a temper but shoving him off the roof was a bit much. His cassock was covered in dirt.
Though, he supposed, he blended a bit with the chapel now. Gojo never bothered to help clean it and no one except a few regulars ever showed up for a service. Probably since their ‘service’ consisted mainly of Gojo telling funny stories that most certainly didn’t come from any religious text and then asking their flock what it meant.
The third night brought an untimely snow to the town. Nobara had patched the roof enough for no snow to fill their pews, even if Megumi got a few bruises for his trouble.
Megumi, despite every chilled bone in his body, kept the chapel doors wide. Travelers and villagers with even thinner walls would sometimes congregate around the fireplace on the far wall - food already simmering in preparation. It wasn’t unbearable to leave the entrance open, but anything beyond hunching by the burning logs wasn’t going to get done tonight. Apothecary sanitation be damned. Megumi could damn it if he wanted.
“Hello?”
Megumi jumped at the loud call from the entrance. A young man was standing in there. The shine of a full moon and gleaming snowbank caught his flushed skin in a way that looked like the angels painted on their walls. Not the ones from Gojo’s book. His hair was sun bleached to a nearly sandy blonde and his skin deep with tan and blistering along the bridge of his nose. The clothes on his back were ratty, aged away in the sun. It looked like he hadn’t bathed in days, or rested at all. But. Despite it. He was, Megumi swallowed, unfairly handsome.
Megumi didn’t belong in the clergy.
“Yes?” He asked, forcing his face back into his passive expression. The boy looked to him, eyes wide before settling in a hesitant smile.
“Is the dad here?”
Megumi blinked. “The what?”
The boy’s hands waved symbols Megumi didn’t follow. “The dad? Of the church? Church dad?”
Snorting at someone wasn’t professional.
“I’m one of the priests here - if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh, gross,” The blonde mumbled before backpedaling with even faster hand waves, “Not you! You’re not gross - just - you’re not old enough to be my dad, so calling you dad is -“
“- Father,” Megumi was really struggling here. “You say Father.”
“Oh, that’s even worse,”
“Do -“ Megumi finally cracked a smile, before reigning it back in, “Do you need guidance?”
“I mean, I - Father -”
“Megumi is fine,” Megumi finally sighed, “You look like you’re going to burst a blood vessel.”
“Megumi.” He tried it out on his tongue. Megumi liked how it sounded. Weightless and gentle. “I’m Itadori Yuuji - Yuuji is fine, but that’s totally up to you-“
“Yuuji.” He paused, almost like Megumi had struck him. “Would you like to come by the fire?”
Yuuji stared. Eyes wide. Nearly frozen beyond anything the frost could manage.
“Is that.” He swallowed. “Is that allowed?”
“The doors are open to any children of God.”
Yuuji laughed at that. Deep and guttural and silenced in an instant. Both of the boys startled at the noise.
“Even me.”
It wasn’t a question. It was - Megumi didn’t know what that was. The hollow sound that formed into words.
Megumi swallowed. “Of course.”
The boy still hesitated. Toes digging along the seam of the doorway like he wanted to cross so badly and couldn’t bring himself to. Who had denied him in such a way that he felt he was better suited to freeze than find warmth when offered?
“Yuuji.” Megumi tried again, voice soft in the way that Gojo so rarely offered but brought a peace he’d never seen matched. “As long as I’m here you’re welcome into this house of God.”
The temperature dropped rashly. A wailing rush of chill rocked them both as Yuuji finally fell forward through the hearth. Megumi moved, worried he’d collapse, but the boy righted himself a moment later with a smile like sunrise. The doors slammed shut with the gust behind him.
Yuuji looked larger up close, dense muscles shifting beneath his layers of wet coats that he hung across pews at Megumi’s instruction. The fire was warm enough with the doors sealed that they both stayed only in sweaters and undershirts. He also looked even dirtier up close. Megumi dunked a rag with the bottle of drinking water and let Yuuji scrub sheets of grime from his skin.
Some of it was blood. A - a good bit. But it was caked beneath his nose and down his chin. A sickness? Thick muscles and a weak constitution didn’t add up. But the cold was biting and could crack skin easily enough. Yuuji’s feet, free of soaked boots and socks, were nearly split in half with blisters. How far had he walked?
Megumi looked to the doorway, knowing more people out there may need shelter. But how welcoming was a half chilled congregation anyway? The haze of the fire filled the space so much better now. This was better.
Stew was spooned out, rich in chicken and shallots and Yuuji ate like he hadn’t seen a meal in days. Maybe he hadn’t. Megumi refilled the bowl after he’d returned from getting gauze and antiseptic without a word. Through the second helping Yuuji spoke more, voice high and full of life as Megumi washed and bound his feet.
Yuuji tried to reject every kindness Megumi stiltingly offered. Maybe the priest seemed hesitant - unwilling - but he was more nervous Yuuji would bolt. He’d been unable to even step foot in the chapel. One word could send him running. And his soles didn’t seem like they could take that.
So Megumi was gentle. Patient and silent over sticking his foot in his mouth. Insistent through Yuuji’s declining and worry until he gave into gratitude and went into another story about the seemingly endless number of dog stories he had stocked away.
“Is there anything else you need?” Megumi asked, before kicking himself. That sounded rude. He wasn’t supposed to be rude to ‘children’ even if they were probably the same age. Maybe older. Yuuji was bigger. Megumi tried again. “Is there anything else I can do for you? More food? You’re welcome to stay the night, there’s blankets on the pews. I’d recommend using the kneeling benches - Father Gojo shelled out for stuffing on those -”
“I, uh,” Yuuji looked nervous now. Hesitant. “I need to confess.”
Oh God. Megumi looked to Gojo’s door, knowing he was out but hoping against hope he’d hop out and save Megumi from messing this up. He never did this part right; never consoled how Gojo could.
“If it’s a bother,” Yuuji started, snapping Megumi out of his stare, “I’m sorry, I - I’m not a member that probably matters, I just,” his fingers worried the hem of his sweater, loose knit nearly frayed away from how his nails must have tore at it over time. “I really don’t know what’s happening.”
Maybe it was that Yuuji was still smiling. A panic in his eyes and bags beneath them so deep they could’ve been bruises. When was the last time he’d slept?
Megumi nodded, steeled himself, and gestured to the confessional on the far wall.
“So let’s talk about it.”
They sat in the fresh dark for almost a full minute before Megumi realized Yuuji didn’t know what to say.
“So, uh,” Yuuji finally hummed, “Good thing we’re not claustrophobic.”
The booth was small, but new. Really the only nice thing in the whole chapel. Nobara had built it for them after Gojo had paid her way down at the college. Megumi and Nobara both knew the church didn’t have any money - so it was more likely he’d suggested some ungodly threat or another to guarantee a masonry apprenticeship.
Deep walnut boards surrounded them both. The deep purple stained glass doors painted a rich cool light from the fire over them both. The window between them had a tacked tight purple sheet, transparent enough to read the person’s expression - not that Megumi ever managed that - but diluted enough for the veil of privacy. The glass and beams were thick. No sound left their box. Just echoed back to them. Yuuji’s eves looked nearly blue with the wash across his skin. Soft and dusted and so very tired.
“I am,” Megumi hummed, “Just a little.”
Yuuji laughed at that, soft but full and filling the space between them. “Rough career choice I guess.”
“How long since your last confession?” Megumi said instead of letting himself get caught down that rabbit hole.
“I’ve never actually,” Yuuji laughed, scratching just below his eye where - Megumi squinted, a deep scar sat on each side. Was it self inflicted? It looked clean. A neat seam cutting along sun chafed skin. “I wandered into a church a few months back, just out of curiosity - big city and all that - but I don’t,” He paused. Silence sat between them. “I don’t really remember it.”
“Churches can be boring,” Megumi offered, hoping it would make him smile again.
It did, “No, no, it was a big one! Gargoyles and all of it. But, I guess I just -“ The quiet returned.
“You just?” Megumi offered.
“I’ve been losing time lately. Sometimes it’s hours. Days . Sometimes it’s just a second. A blink. But I know it’s missing.”
“Well,” Megumi thought about it, about the blood seeped thick through his socks. This wasn’t the typical I thought about the farmer’s wife confession, “You seem very tired. Memory loss can happen when exhaustion overtakes you.”
“All I do is sleep.” Yuuji said. His voice was softer. Whispered. Like this was a secret. “I sleep so long I don’t know where I am. But when I wake up I’m. I know I didn’t rest.”
“Nightmares?”
“No.” Fingers drummed the velvet bench. “No. It’s. Bones. It’s all just bones and blood and-“
“That’s not a nightmare?”
“It feels like home.”
A sweat was doting Megumi’s collar. A chill dripped down his spine as he stared ahead to the rich glass. This was -
“What did you need to confess, my child?”
“I haven’t - I haven't done anything.” The drumming is faster. Staccato rhythm building until Megumi has to lean closer to even hear his whispered shout. “But I feel blood on my hands. I feel the sinew beneath my nails and I - I’m moving when I shouldn’t be. When I’m sleeping. And I’m sleeping but he’s not -“
It was as if ice had been dumped on him. Every bone in Megumi’s body chilled. Frozen. It all clicked together a moment too slow.
“Who -“ The drumming stopped. The silence pregnant between them. Megumi didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. That was - that was a mistake. Not who there was no who because if he showed his hand in this box he couldn’t run and wherewasGojo -
“Father.”
Megumi looked to Yuuji. To the lavender frosted eyes that - that -
Blood red pools stared back at him.
“P - prohiebere ” Megumi rattled out, but the veil was torn. Tacks flying as an inked arm shot between ripped cloth and into Megumi’s windpipe. The wood beneath him creaked as he was crushed against it, digging nails into the corded muscle that held him fast.
Yuuji - no, this - this thing, crawled through the window, bones snapping and relocating as he contorted inside the hole. Megumi could see the bruises and swelling of dislocated limbs blossom across the tanned skin. But the - the - it didn’t even flinch. Didn’t notice or care as it mangled and rearranged the boy through the slot until Megumi was pinned beneath his weight. What was once a small room was now suffocating. Clawed nails dragging rivers out of Megumi’s skin and surrounding him. Blacking out the last lines of light from the glass behind the monster.
Megumi knew, despite his training, despite his knowledge; that this creature was beyond him. Would rip him apart for Gojo to find once his blood soaked out beneath the door.
But he wouldn’t die a coward.
“ad infernum, canis-“
“Now, now,” The demon laughed. “Is that any way to treat a guest, Father?” He said it like a suggestion .
“What -” Megumi croaked, “Who are you?”
“Oh, Father,” He growled. The entire booth seemed to rock with the reverberation. “Don’t worry about that. It won’t help you anyway.”
The monster still had Yuuji’s face. But kind eyes had distorted. Warped. Mutated into something so cold Megumi felt he could burn from it. This wasn’t - this creature was ancient. Nothing like what Megumi had seen before crawled beneath this monster’s skin that felt like it was infecting Megumi with each heavy stroke down his face.
“I came here for the Father. The strong one.” His nails seemed to grow - digging sharper and sharper until blood began to pool at Megumi’s cheek. “But you … where has he been hiding you?”
A thumb pried Megumi’s jaw open. Like he hadn’t nearly cracked his molars clenching it shut. Like he was nothing.
“Open for me, little priest.”
Megumi met his eyes. His horrible eyes that… that…
The scars split open. Two more eyes blinked down.
Megumi couldn’t have held back his gasp of horror if he’d tried. Two fingers sank deep into his throat.
“Good, good , there you go.” Megumi gagged violently, but the digits didn’t yield, just reached deeper. Stroking along the quaking walls of his throat. “What a pretty thing.”
Megumi could feel his eyes rolling back, vision graying out and mercifully hiding the beast before him. If this was the death this demon chose for him… there were worse. He tried to not fight it, useless as that would be. Letting the shadows envelope him as his gagging gave way to stillness.
Whack .
“Oh, come now, Father,” The demon laughed, delighted at how Megumi retched for air. Reflexes kicking in for survival now that his throat was free and his temple throbbed from the strike. “Do your best.”
Spit fell heavy from his gasping lips, sluicing down his jaw and onto his shirt. He’d - he’d almost died. So quickly. So easily . He might still - there was no question he would - this demon wouldn’t let him leave this booth alive. But he’d - he’d -
“ Labellum” He gasped, hacking the sacred curse out. “ Cadere in gehennam,” His tattoos ached, throbbed like fresh bites as the prayer filled the space. Crush the demon down, he was faltering, rocking on his heels, Megumi could, he could -
“ Oh.”
There was no hand to his throat. No claws in his nape. No strike came down on Megumi. The smile on the demon’s face was more than enough to make his blood freeze in his veins.
“Look at you.”
The smile was beyond the cruelty, the mania of a demon. It was. Adoration. Devotion. It was so much worse than anything Megumi could’ve seen marred across those features.
“You’re perfect.”
“Get off of me,” Megumi gasped, a cold sweat making his skin tacky as the demon closed in tighter around him. Skin icy to the touch as he cradled Megumi’s face like he was something precious - something horribly breakable. Any prayers were gone, cohesive thoughts abandoning him as he was caught like a wounded animal. Latin falling away in dust on his tongue, failing him, failing - “Get off -”
“- Sukuna .” The demon said. Sukuna said. “I want you to remember it. Cry it out for me while I take you apart.”
“God, st-”
“Say it.” The words held more power than any prayer Megumi could’ve tried to choke out.
“S-Sukuna,” The moan in response filled Megumi’s throat with bile. “I, please,”
“Oh you can beg, little priest,” Sukuna swore, “I’ll let you beg for it. For me.”
“I won’t,”
“You will.” A thick heat pressed against Megumi’s chest. Lungs stuttering at - no, that - no , “Yes. Yes, little priest. It’s all for you.” Megumi wrenched his head back, neck cracking in his panic. But Sukuna’s grip found his hair, vice grip searing his scalp as the demon’s free hand began to loosen his pants.
“ No,” Megumi shouted, legs shoved apart to let Sukuna move himself impossibly closer, towering over the priest, invading any space he could try to gain between them. Megumi’s toes skimmed the door. How had this room felt claustrophobic before? How had he not seen all the space he’d had until Sukuna stole it all away. Megumi kicked at the door, legs barely bending enough around corded thighs to reach the stained wood. But it didn’t budge. Like it had been sealed away. An airless void, a private domain of Sukuna’s creation.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t - he -
A sob bubbled past his throat as Sukuna’s cock dragged along his cheek.
“Aww, are you scared? It’s alright,” A chilled hand covered his clenched eyes. An unwelcome balm to the hot sting behind them. “You don’t have to look. Just let me have you.”
The flesh pressed to his lips - trembling and bloody as he bit into them mercilessly. He would not - he would not - he felt his blood drip down his chin. Catching and smearing across the cock that demanded entrance.
“I can heal this boy.”
Megumi’s eyes opened beneath the palm. The swollen palm, vessels ruptured with savagery. He almost answered. Almost laughed. Sukuna would not help a human, let alone one he’d infected. But Megumi bit his mouth shut tighter. He wouldn’t fall for tricks.
“He’s a sweet one,” Sukuna continued, voice rumbling between them. “Wanted help , can you imagine? Sought you out himself. What a prize he found for me.” His smile was wide as his hand moved from Megumi’s eyes to cradle his cheek. “All he does is cry about how he doesn’t want to die here. He’s screaming , Megumi.”
“You damn-”
The cock shoved forward. Megumi screamed.
“Oh, Megumi. What a blessing you are. Your mouth - Christ - what a sin to fall for.”
Sukuna paused in him, holding his jaw wide with an iron grip as his cock rested on Megumi’s spasming tongue.
“There you go, open your throat,” The head shoved forward once more, demanding room that Megumi couldn’t begin to give. He retched violently around the intrusion, but Sukuna just chuckled a moan at the vibrations. “I’m going inside it either way, Father. Would you like me to split it from here?” Megumi gulped the air that was allowed as Sukuna pulled back. But it was short lived as a claw dragged along his Adam's apple, knicking the skin where it bobbed in panic.
Sukuna pressed forward once more. No speed or force beyond a steady, unyielding pressure. Megumi almost wished he’d just get it over with; fall into the violence he so clearly housed. This… this patience was so much worse. This steady and slow violation gave Megumi too much time to think and react but no leeway to defend himself.
Slowly, agonizingly, Sukuna settled deep into Megumi’s throat. Fingers danced and pressed along his neck, feeling the cock core open his throat from the outside. He slid away as the frightful struggles finally ebbed, oxygen hoarded back into Megumi’s lungs as he gasped.
“Again.”
In and out. Demanding and inching along. There was no way to leave this - fall into his mind and escape. He whined pitifully, begging for a mercy or at least an end to this.
“I’ll take you, don’t worry, blessing. I’ll have you.” Sukuna’s hips shoved ruthlessly, any emptiness Megumi’s mind had achieved was jarred away as his throat was mauled. “All of you.” Sukuna promised, “Soon. Soon. You’ll open under me so beautifully. Awaken by my hand. By my will. By my seed .”
The thrusts were inhuman. Hands fisting Megumi’s hair to steady him as he choked and wept.
“Oh that’s it, choke , Father. Choke on my offering and be cleansed.”
It was like fire poured inside him. Magma boiling him alive. Unable to think of getting air when he was being burned alive - this was, this was the fire of Hell - it must be -
“Shush, little priest,” Sukuna hummed, claws cutting thin lines below Megumi’s eyes as he wiped the trench of tears away. “You’re doing well. Accept it. You were never meant to be a child of God.”
Something about that - despite all the cruelty and abuse - brought Megumi to tears beyond his pain. Sukuna said it like it was the truth. Like there was no doubt in his malevolent tongue.
“Why allow yourself to be caged when you could be mine?”
The release finally ended. Cock slipping free of the vice of Megumi’s throat. But the heat lingered. A fire in this throat that went beyond the ribbons it had been torn to.
“We’ll know soon,” Sukuna promised. “You’ll see -”
“- Ignis mortem !”
Gojo had never needed something that powerful - his words carried a weight Megumi couldn’t think to carry. But. Sukuna thought he had won. Had let his guard down as he’d spent himself in Megumi. But it…
Sukuna collapsed. Itadori Yuuji lay halfway out the flung open confessional door.
It was enough.
-----
Megumi did not allow himself to rest. Despite the ache in his bones and the gnawing in his soul - there was work to be done. He… Gojo could fix this.
Yuuji, Megumi was sure it was the boy again - his very essence had changed when that beast had made itself known, was tied to the floor. Metal anchoring spikes held his limbs taut. His sleeping body laid in a pentagram. And another. Every seal Megumi could recall without having to dare to turn his back for a text for reference. Every cross they carried scattered around him. The sweater, already shredded from the loose nails of climbing through the confessional window, was torn away. Prayers and herbs poured over the boy’s steady rising and falling chest. Stained glass cast a kaleidoscope of sunlight across his skin. Just in case the daylight would help. It didn’t seem to be - but Megumi wasn’t going to move him from those bindings.
He looked so peaceful. Like he’d not mutated and -
Megumi drank more wine.
He’d tried to purge himself the moment the other boy had fallen. Fingers jammed down his own throat to try and rid himself of this - this sin . But even the sense memory of his battered throat did not allow the seed to leave him. It just sat like stone. Weighing him down. Reminding him.
So he’d uncorked the first communion wine he could reach and drank the bottle dry. Trying his best to wash the taste away.
The noon sun came and went and Megumi didn’t leave his post. Huddled in the corner with his back flush to the wall and as far from the - the booth - as possible; but a post just the same.
Texts offered him nothing. Sukuna’s name wasn’t in any tongue Megumi knew, and any dealing with a devil his size were ‘divine pacts’ of mutual destruction. Tie one's soul to a demon and trap it with you. Barbaric. Blasphemous. Megumi didn’t know how Gojo could’ve begun to find these books.
Each hour crept past in a lurch. Sunlight waxing and waning against the scars along Yuuji’s cheek. Slits that housed vermilion eyes. Pupils dilated in ecstasy as Megumi was pulled deeper and deeper…
The sun had long since set when Yuuji finally opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Megumi wasn’t startled by the words. He’d hardly allowed himself to blink, let alone stray from Yuuji’s face. But they still settled something heavy in his throat.
“Do you remember what happened?” He asked.
“No,” Yuuji swallowed, shoulders rolling in their binds, but making no attempts to escape. “But you look hurt.”
The cuts along Megumi’s throat and face had long since closed. Neat lines like a razor edge. His lip had split too, but that had scabbed off hours ago. It was almost as if it’d never happened at all.
“You’re worse off than I am,” Megumi mumbled.
“But you look…” Yuuji seemed to think better of his next words. Megumi didn’t want to hear them anyway. He felt feverish. Aching. Nothing in the texts said anything about… spend. Any poison to it or otherwise. Megumi almost felt he was letting off steam in the frosty air of the aisle between them.
Yuuji looked freezing. Teeth chattered despite his best efforts to look calm. It seemed like a horrible way to wake up - trussed and bound. The urge to lay a blanket across him was strong, to just approach him at all. But Megumi had let his guard down once. And those slits beneath his eyes were too much to risk seeing again.
Megumi looked to the candle beside him. The long wick was hardly half burned. A nail embedded inches down. It wouldn’t fall with sunrise wasn’t for hours. The other nail even further down seemed lifetimes to wait. But Gojo said five days with rain.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“No,” Megumi said without pause. That wouldn’t fix the demon, he knew that much. The soul could still release itself and roam. But with it contained Gojo could send it back. Back down to whatever blood and bone filled Hell it had called home before slithering into their chapel.
“It’d be okay,” Yuuji whispered, “If you did. I don’t want to -”
“- You didn’t hurt me. S… it did. And I contained it. And now we just need to wait.”
Megumi looked to the candle again. Hardly a pinch had melted away. The flicker of heat provided no warmth but he was sweltering. It was so hot.
“I didn’t break you, did I, blessing?”
Megumi froze.
He wouldn’t look. Wouldn’t see the four eyes looking at him again. Wouldn’t grace it with - he wasn’t -
Megumi looked to the candle.
It was unlit.
“Now, now,” Sukuna laughed, manic and jolting, “Don’t run from me. Not when I’ve already put in so much work.”
Megumi still sat huddled. Not an inch had given since he’d looked to the candle. He was unable to move at all. Unable to run.
This wasn’t real. Megumi knew that. This wasn’t - he could stall. Who knew how many hours he’d been asleep. He was still asleep. He was - it was…
“How old are you?” Megumi choked. Mercifully unable to see the monster still hopefully, oh God, hopefully, tied to the floor.
“Older than any flea you’ve exorcised before,” He sounded proud. “I wasn’t made in a pit, a gross crosspatch of sludge and skin passing as greatness.”
Megumi’s eyes widened.
“You mean -”
“I fell from the sky.”
This wasn’t. This wasn’t a curse at all. Yuuji had been infected with an angel.
“Come here, blessing.”
Megumi didn’t stand so much as he slid across the wooden beams. Knees catching splinters and dragging across uneven planks until he hit the edge of the circle. How - how had he -
“Look at me.”
Megumi’s sockets ached from how fast his eyes flew to meet the four blood pools.
He looked different. So much worse. Markings that would’ve been godship marred across his skin. Brutal lines and swirls that ate away at the what were clearly feeble attempts at containment. Megumi could not begin to control a divine being.
It was almost as if Yuuji had never been there at all. This - this - angel was not a word it deserved. This monster had wrapped itself around him. Nothing even seemed recognizable.
But this wasn’t real. Even if his nails were splintering trying to push himself back; it wasn’t real. He was still in the corner. Sukuna had entered his mind. Some final games before Gojo sealed him away. But this was Megumi’s dream. He could control it. At least enough. He’d done enough before he could do it again.
“Now that I really see you.” Sukuna hummed, posture relaxed and expression daunting. “You did look so familiar.”
“What are you talking about?” Megumi humored him. The longer they spoke the closer Gojo could be any moment he’d be wrenched free of this.
“The priest must’ve thought himself clever, keeping you this close. Right under everyone’s nose.”
“I’ve been here for years.”
“Oh, I’d imagine so. Your father hasn’t been on this plane in decades, last I heard.”
What.
“What?” Megumi choked. Demon game - devil games. That’s all this was.
“Most of you don’t survive birth.” Sukuna whispered. Voice thick like mad honey. “Humans can’t take that strain. And your souls can’t be housed if it isn’t just right. But I suppose you took after Toji after all.”
“My father,” Megumi began, relaying every story Gojo had told. They’d all been ridiculous. He’d been a king. He’d been a jester. He’d been a worm - that was where Megumi got that frown from. Had Gojo…
Had Gojo ever even told him?
One thing had been a constant.
“My father is dead.”
“You can’t kill a devil, child.” Like this was a lesson, like he was talking him through an exorcism the way Gojo had done when he was young. “But you can banish it. And that Priest of yours must’ve done a fine job to keep him from coming back to get you.”
Megumi’s father had tried to sell him to a seedier underbelly of the church. Where they’d practice their exorcisms. Without limitations. Gojo had stepped in and cut him down. Had brought Megumi home. Megumi’s hands gripped his arm. Following the inked lines, still raised after years with irritations, to soothe himself. To think. Gojo protected him.
“Oh, blessing, those markings aren’t protection. They’re containment .” Megumi felt his touch across them, even with Sukuna’s wrists still tied. “Didn’t it hurt when he did it? Didn’t you feel like you were burning alive?”
The worst allergic reaction they’d ever seen.
“He’s trying to kill that part of you. No child has ever survived it. Your church is trying - using our offspring like cattle to rip away their roots. Tamp it down like you don’t have a devil inside you. Like you aren’t a gift from the seed of perfection.”
The ropes snapped, metal spikes clattering across the room as his arms shot out to grab Megumi’s waist. Yanking him into his lap with a delighted laugh at the priest’s shriek.
“But I won’t let that go to waste. I awoke you. And you took it beautifully. How many died trying - how many half breed runts couldn’t compare and wasted away under the power of a Blessed one. But you. You can feel it, can’t you?” His palm stroked Megumi’s shivering abdomen. “Can feel the rage blooming. The cold fire of your birthright. You’re a forbidden fruit if there ever was one, Fushiguro Megumi.” A horrible cracking split between them. Wretched as blood flew and two more arms emerged from beneath the set holding Megumi steady.
“No, non ono ,” Megumi gasped, desperate. His thumbs found homes in the sockets of Sukuna’s second eyes, digging violently as he screamed. He was not. He. He.
The lower arms gouged into Megumi’s palms. Talons coring out space between tendon and bone. Yanking and embedding long stakes into the wood floor below. His hands - his hands -
“Like Christ on the cross,” Sukuna simpered, tongue catching the flecks of blood as his eyes began to repair and reshape. “My sweet little martyr.”
Megumi looked at his pinned hands. Palm up, fingers spasming, blood puddling beneath them both. He gagged violent at the pain, chest heaving in attempt at relief.
“Can’t throw up, can you?” Sukuna even jammed a finger down his throat, stroked the flesh in a taunt. “I said you wouldn’t waste my gift. Embrace it. The change can be done soon if you stop fighting.”
“There is no change,” Megumi gasped around the intrustion, but they could both see he was convincing himself. “I’m human.”
“Half of one,” Sukuna agreed. Upper arms dragging across Megumi’s dirtied habit, slicing fabric to ribbons as he went. “But I can make you so much better.”
Megumi lay as bare as the day he was born on the lap of this beast. Pinned against the devil’s stomach by his own pierced hands. Sukuna rocked against him with a moan. Whether it was Megumi’s nudity or terror that were more appealing, he wasn’t sure.
“A Blessed one,” Sukuna began, voice falling into a tone that seemed before time. Low and cruel and not meant for the ears of humans. It wasn’t in any tongue Megumi knew - but the choking feeling that he understood it all did not leave him. “Must be made with the lifeblood of a Blessed one.” Flesh began to part beneath Megumi - was it another arm? A head? He tried to twist and see but Sukuna did not allow his eyes to leave his own.
“To awaken and make yourself worthy, you must feed on my essence. On my being.”
“I’m not eating you,” Megumi snapped, “Let go of me -”
“Blood works,” Sukuna hummed, “It’s the easiest one. But I prefer to approach with virility.”
Megumi felt the weight of his stomach. Of the stone that was - was infecting him.
“Saliva, even,” Sukuna laughed. Leaning up close like he was sharing a joke, “Could work in theory. I’ve never tried it. It can’t be potent at all.”
Megumi watched him. Anxiety building in his throat at the smile on Sukuna’s face.
“But,” Megumi was shifted back, ass meeting where his navel… where his navel should be, that - “I suppose,” Skin parted from the seat beneath him. Moisture beading his skin and breaking goosebumps across his skin -
“Wait -”
“We’ll just have to get creative .”
Hands shoved Megumi’s shoulder down. Sinking him onto - a tongue , a gaping mouth splitting from Sukuna’s core as wide as Megumi’s hips.
“ Stop!” Megumi yelled before choking on a cry. The muscle was giant, petting heavily along the seam of Megumi’s ass, swirling and stroking until - “No, stop, no, Sukuna -”
The appendage began to press.
“Beg me.” Sukuna growled.
This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real . Megumi knew that, he did - he had to - it couldn’t -
“Beg for my fingers and I’ll ease you in.”
Megumi couldn’t, he - he looked down. Finally given mercy only to face the horrible tongue jamming against his perineum. It was too big. It wouldn’t - he couldn’t -
“Come now, little priest. You can do it. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours.”
The clawed thumb ran along the wobbling seam of Megumi’s lower lip. Panicked huffs of air refused to fill his lungs as the tongue began to press harder. Sukuna wouldn’t wait. Megumi knew he wouldn’t. A devil didn’t show mercy. His spit was getting -
His spit.
With a wail at the tug to his hands, Megumi crashed his mouth into Sukuna’s own.
The devil froze beneath him. Blessedly still as Megumi quaked above him. His mouth was pinched shut. Lips pulled tight and eyes even tighter. A finger pressed into the hinge of his jaw and Megumi forced himself to open. To allow the frigid tongue room in his mouth. Tracing along molars and gum lines. Coating him like ownership.
Sukuna pulled away with a soft smile.
“Oh, Megumi.” He spit onto Megumi’s tongue. “You poor, wounded thing.” A thumb massaged the saliva against Megumi’s own muscle, flinching in his mouth away from the touch. “Next time,” Sukuna cooed, stroking Megumi’s hair through the Priest’s cry at the tongue breaching his hole. “You’ll listen to your options.”
“Ple ase - wait , wait - it,” His hole stretched, tugging wide as he shouted, “It hurts! It hurts - it-”
“Say my name.”
“ Sukuna, please - st-”
His tears were licked away. “I’m not going to stop. You know that.” The tongue did, however, retreat. Megumi collapsed against Sukuna, a chill taking him at the shock of how the air was touching places he didn’t think possible. “Now you can beg me like a good boy for help.” The tongue flicked against his hole. “Or we can begin again.”
Megumi swallowed the spit in his mouth, stalling for - for what, he didn’t know anymore. With a rasped mumble he finally said, “Please,”
Silence fell between them before a cackle boomed across the chapel. “You can’t think that will suffice, can you? Come now, do your best.”
The tongue began to breach again and the word flew out before Megumi could hesitate “Please! Please - don’t - I,” The tongue paused. “Please h-help me.”
“With what, little priest?”
Megumi wanted to hide. To bury himself in the catacombs beneath the boards and wait until dust could take him. But there wasn’t enough mercy to allow such an end.
“Please ease,” He swallowed. “E-ease me i-in.”
Sukuna leered. “How would you propose I do that?”
“You-!” The tongue stabbed up, hands rocking him down, and Megumi choked back his humiliated sob. “W-with your fffffingers - Sukuna, please, I’m -”
“Try a full sentence, blessing,” Sukuna kissed below Megumi’s ear the way the priest thought a lover to. “Tell me what you want.”
He didn’t want anything. He wanted rest. He wanted respite. He wanted Gojo to burst through the doors and save him.
“Please… p-please use your fingers - ah - in m-m-my hole to ease the - please, stop - the way!”
“God in Heaven,” Sukuna slurred, sacrilege melting between their mouths. “The perfect thing you’ll be. A blessing indeed.”
One hand dipped between them and Megumi shook at the idea of it going in dry - he’d - but the thick tongue trailed over and between the digits and Megumi’s rim. Coating both of them in thick spit that wouldn’t nearly be enough.
“You may still kiss me. If it eases you.” Sukuna cooed. Megumi bit down on his words, pride long since lost. “Though, I do love to watch you be split open.”
The digit breached him with no further ceremony. Slipping in easily despite the way Megumi seized up. Megumi would cling to Sukuna if he could, shameful as it was. But the pain was so much and the shame so much more. He just - just…
A second finger wedged inside as Megumi’s hands were freed. His feeble grip found Sukuna’s back. Desperate for grounding even from the cause of his instability. He burned inside. A sting that would ebb away only to jolt him once more at the swirling of his insides. Two fingers felt like so much, too much - but as they retreated he knew it wasn’t nearly enough.
“I can’t, please,” He warbled. Demonic tongue pointing stiff against his flushed rim.
“You will.” Sukuna promised.
Megumi went down not with a shout, but a hiccuping sob. Giant hands stroked his back as he was pressed further and further. Deeper into the gaping mouth that pervaded him. “You’re already doing it. Rebirth requires pain, little priest.”
“I shhh-should’ve b-b-bitten your tongue off,” Megumi sobbed, squirming for any attempt at reprieve.
“You’ll have my blood, Megumi, you’ll have it all.” He moaned as the tongue flicked deep, deep into something, oh god -
“What is -”
“Because I will have all of you.”
A heat was building in him, just beneath his skin. A string pulling taut and just waiting for Sukuna to snap it.
“I - I -”
A vice came around Megumi’s cock - when had he gotten hard? When had - now that he was denied the pressure became ruthless. Blinding.
“Please, please,” He stuttered, between the tongue stretching him and coring him open and making his very organs feel like they’d melt to this dam that was blocked and the pain in his hands he just needed something - something to ease this, to help this - to release him -
“Not this time, blessing,” He laughed cruelly at Megumi’s shout, “Soon. You’ll have it soon. You’ll beg me for release as you bounce on my cocks. They won’t be nearly as forgiving as my tongue. And you’ll relish it. Need it. You’ll live for me Fushiguro Megumi.”
His - his what -
“I’ll fill you with both. You’ll sob so sweetly on me. And you’ll ask for it. Plead for it.”
“No,” Megumi whispered, a cold fear taking him at the words. He wouldn’t. He would never. And - he’d die - no one could -
“It’ll be scary,” Sukuna whispered as metal dragged along the wood beside them. “You’ll beg me to stop. But you’ll love it once you have it. I’ll change you to fit me. Until all you can do is pray for it.”
Gold caught his eye, the crucifix, wide and heavy, Sukuna’s grasp. Scraps of Megumi’s clothes acting as a barrier for his touch. Megumi could weep. The idiot. The audacious devil who was - Megumi darted out for the cross. He’d bested him once already. Knocked him back. He could do it again.
Megumi screeched as the metal touched his palm.
He would’ve fallen back if not for the tongue still spearing him still. He - he must’ve - where was his hand? It had to have fallen off - it -
Megumi flexed his fingers. Unbroken beyond the clean hole from Sukuna’s pierce. He’d taken no more damage. But. How.
“I warned you,” Sukuna hummed, false sympathy in his leering eyes. “You can’t touch an artifact of God. That’s dangerous.”
“But I’m…”
“I’ve told you what you are. No tattoos and spells and prayer can change what I’ve done to you. What I’ve done for you.” The cross fell out of Megumi’s sight, his eyes unseeing in his shock. Still looking to his hand like it would forgive him. “The crazy thing about it is - it doesn’t even hurt you. Not in any lasting way.”
Megumi was shoved up higher, knees behind him bending as he was braced back against them, splayed fingers holding him fast.
“What are you -”
“It’s the faith in the object that burns. The scorn of God. An emotional pain. A soulful one. But no physical harm will come to you.”
The chilled metal felt like fire on his rim.
“No! Nonono - Sukuna - STOP -”
“Let’s see how far you’ve fallen.”
The tongue yanked away as the embossed edges sank into Megumi’s soft insides. Searing his skin, burning him alive - he shrieked, begged him to stop in languages dead and old. But the long, long stake just pillaged further. Carving away his being until the two side beams dug against his ass. Like a brand along his skin.
“I c-c-can’t,” He sobbed, grovelled, curling into the hand on his chest as he spasmed, “Stop, stopstop stopstop-”
“There there,” Sukuna pulled forward, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. Megumi clung to him like a child. Terrified in a pain he’d never known. He would die. He’d rather die. He -
“Megumi!”
“Please stop this,” Megumi wailed, “I’ll do -”
“Megumi!”
“What will you do, little blessing?”
“Anything,” He swore, “Anything - please,”
“ Megumi!”
Megumi jolted, screaming as hands came down around him. Pulling him close. Holding him down.
“Megumi, it’s me. Breathe. Breathe .”
Blue eyes met his own. Translucent skin and pearlescent hair. Gojo crouched beside him. Blood all over their floor. Pentagram slashed open. A single golden cross embedded in the wall.
Megumi looked to the candle. Both nails had clattered to the pool of wax on the floor.
-----
“It was real. No illusion could have done that -”
“Look at your hands,” Gojo soothed, thumbs pressing gently into untarnish palms. “You’d still be bleeding. It was a dream. A horrible one, but a dream all the same.”
Yuuji was gone. Gojo said that he found Megumi alone and writhing on the ground. The blood on the floor was tacky and chilled.
“Would he need to kill him?” Megumi asked, “Couldn’t he keep him alive?”
“It can separate from the boy - it’s more up to the boy to survive it.”
“His name is Yuuji.” Not was - not yet was.
“Yuuji,” Gojo corrected easily, “Angels need to manifest in a body to make their own first. Then they separate to make their true form. Devils are just the same. I will go find him or the devil - whichever still remains. You must rest.”
“I’ll go with you, we can go now,”
“You need to stay here, Megumi.”
“Am I…” A tightness sealed Megumi’s throat. Heavy and suffocating and making his eyes sting. Gojo turned to him, eyes wide at the open fear on Megumi’s face. “Am I human?”
“What kind of a question is that?” Gojo crouched beside him, “Of course you are.”
“Am I only human?”
The silence was deafening.
“Who is Fushiguro Toji?”
Even Gojo couldn’t hide that flinch.
Instead of a joke or evade Gojo simply asked, “Was he in your dream?”
“No,”
“Good.”
“Is that my name?” Megumi whispered, “Fushiguro Megumi?”
“Megumi, you are…” Gojo paused. Gojo never paused. Never had a word leave his mouth that wasn’t saccharine and smoothed out with a smile. But he didn’t speak for so long Megumi was worried Sukuna hadn’t yet released him. Still had him in his hold - his horrible grip -
“Am I evil?” Megumi could feel the tears coming. Heavy and hiccuped like a child. Needing someone to hold him in this darkness. “He’s - is he right? Gojo, please , I’m -”
“You are a child of God.” Before Megumi could cut into how loaded that sounded, he barrelled on. “I found you and made this chapel your home and you have sworn yourself to help people under the teachings I give you.”
“Everything I have done has been to protect you. To save you. To prepare you for when it’s right and it’s -” His tongue clicked, eyes heavy behind his thick black lenses. “It’s not time yet. It’s not safe yet.”
“Safe for what?”
“To save you.” Gojo confessed. Voice soft as a knife between Megumi’s ribs. “No one was born without sin and no one is clean - but you,” He pulled Megumi closer. Their foreheads knocked gently. The last time Gojo had done this was when he’d found Megumi. “To give knowledge to a curse brings it power. I will not give a devil stake on you of my own volition but know you are a beloved child of God and you’re my son. I would not lead you where I could not pull you away.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Megumi admitted. Feeling more fragile than he’d ever been.
“We’ll expel it from you.” Gojo swore. “Together. At dawn. You’re strong, you’ve survived so much more than you should ever have to. You can survive one more night.”
Gojo drew up, holstering items Megumi had never seen leave their crypt. A flask of blood was spilled on the doorway. “The devil can’t hurt you if you stay in the chapel . I will exorcise it. The demon abandoned his host. That was how he tricked you before. You gave Yuuji rights to asylum - not it. You are welcome into the house of God - it is not.”
“But he -”
“His… violation of you does not give him domain. It was sacrilege. You gave him nothing. He has no blessing here.” Gojo pulled him close once more, lips to Megumi’s brow with his words whispered like prayer. “You are a man through and through. No demon shall have your soul as long as God wills it.”
But Megumi wasn’t sure God was on his side anymore.
“Be safe.” Megumi called, voice cracking.
“I always am.”
The doors sealed and bolted without Megumi reaching for them.
-----
Megumi felt a pull beneath his ribs before the doors of the chapel flew off their hinges. He’d like to think it was anxiety, or intuition. But a festering new corner of his soul knew better.
The Yuuji of before was gone. There was no explanation but the separation for the creature before him. He was a tower, feet above even Gojo in height and looked like he’d torn the doors away with little more than his strength alone. Four arms hung from his sides. Four eyes vermilion and cursed smiled at him. Framed by horns that curled around and upwards. Fangs protruded from gums. What had been almost bruises along his skin were now like black scars. Expressive and violent and curling around muscles with seemingly a mind of their own. The mouth protruded from his gut. Leering with a split tongue lolling out the side.
“Where is Yuuji?” Megumi asked, not wanting to give an inch but needing to know. Was Gojo with him? Was he being taken to Ieiri? The splattered blood beneath him weighed heavy. Was there anything left to save?
Sukuna blinked. For the first time - he looked caught off guard before a cackle left him. He sighed, head thrown back with a muttered, “Such a love for humans. I’ll cleanse you of it yet.”
“Yuuji,” He pressed.
“Alive.” Sukuna hummed. “Intentionally. The Father has his hands full stopping that bleeding. He’ll make it; little fighter. But only if the Father gives him his full attention. And he won’t leave the boy. Not when you cared so much for him. The Father always had good intentions with you,” Sukuna smiled. “And they paved you right to me.”
Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. When Yuuji had been forced to trick Megumi into allowance he’d looked like he was fighting the doorway. Wanting to seek warmth but unable without blessing. But Sukuna. Reborn, angel of Hell Sukuna. He just looked like he was waiting for Megumi to figure something out.
“I suggest,” He croaked, trying to find courage in the face of Hell, “That you flee. Father Gojo can cut you down while you stand there like prey.”
Sukuna’s entire body seemed to ripple at the word. “Prey, little martyr?” He slid a hand along the doorway, just before the seam of blood warping with energy. “Do I seem…” His fingers curled past the hearth. “Like prey to you?”
“You have no domain here,” The words came out as a plea. Gojo had said - he’d said -
“Did you not tell him how you embraced me?” Sukuna laughed. “How you brought your lips to mine? How you blessed me?”
Megumi froze. No. He’d… he’d…
“Saliva is the least potent,” Sukuna’s bare feet slapped down the wooden aisle, suffocating in its narrow construction and the only exit blocked by this monstrosity. “But given so freely in desperation. God must have sensed your fervor.”
“Who would’ve guessed,” He encroached further, passing the confession booth with a long leering grin, “That the pious little Father would be such a whore?”
“Father Gojo -”
“- Isn’t here. Come now, Megumi.” He stood right before him, impossibly tall. Impossibly strong. “What will you do?”
“ F-Finite,”
“How I’ve ruined you.” Four arms gripped Megumi close, cradling him like something precious. Something Sukuna could not wait to break. “Only a priest could stand a chance. And you’re just a sweet lie.”
Megumi was lifted, crushed against the chest of the devil with that horrible tongue wetting his thighs once more. A despair began to topple him, collapsing his ribcage as he fought for breath. The altar was swiped clean. Artifacts and incense thrown aside as Megumi was laid across it like sacrifice.
“A pact -” He blurted, eyes already clouding with tears he wouldn’t let fall yet. “A-A pact -”
The hands paused, but did not leave him. “I’m listening.” His smile was indulgent. He was humoring him.
“You don’t hurt any humans.” Megumi swore. He felt the binding forming on his tongue. The finality of a sacred promise. And a devil had never resisted a deal before. “Not a single child of God.”
“No deal.” Sukuna laughed. “What could be worth-”
“Me.” Megumi swore. The deal cementing its terms between them. “You can have me.”
“I already have you.”
“But you can keep me. I will not run from you. However many cruel days this lifespan is granted will be at your side. Willingly. Because I would sooner bite through my tongue than survive in your company.” He yanked Sukuna closer, venom on his tongue. “And know that under no other conditions could you drag me from this space as anything other than a corpse.”
“You find yourself to be so precious now,” Sukuna hummed. But there wasn’t a denial in his voice.
“A curse has more strength in their name. And you don’t even know what I hold. I’m the only half breed to survive. And if you leave these - these humans,” His phrasing stumbled on his tongue. He wasn’t part of them anymore. But he wasn’t Sukuna either. Megumi was something else entirely. “If you leave humans be, I will cleave the Heavens open for you.”
Megumi was already slicing his palm, grabbing Sukuna’s closest hand with hardly a wince as claws dug deep, before Sukuna could reply. Megumi knew he had a deal. “A martyr till the end.”
One life for however many Sukuna would’ve ripped apart. And, really, what life was left in it? Not a bad deal at all.
Megumi knew this part. Felt it in his blood pooling across his palm more than the texts he’d searched in desperation could tell him. Sukuna’s own hand sliced wide, nearly chopped through in his excitement. Megumi looked at the blood. A devil’s blood. A fallen one. It didn’t look any different from his own. Though if that spoke for favor in humans or not, Megumi didn’t know.
“Open, blessing.”
The blood was hot - hellishly burning on his taste buds as it flooded between his teeth. The rest of Sukuna was always so cold - but the inside of him burned. Sukuna laughed at Megumi’s flinch and Megumi shoved his own hand against the devil’s tongue.
For a moment it seemed like he’d lose his fingers. But Sukuna nearly unhinged his jaw to get his split tongue wrapped around bloody digits. Not letting a drop of whatever blend Megumi had become escape him. He moaned against Megumi’s skin, primal and deep.
A warmth blossomed in Megumi’s chest. Far beyond the pain of the confession booth or the fury of the failed pentagram. This was…
“Your first deal, little devil,” Sukuna tittered, jaw smeared in Megumi’s bloody signature. “How wonderful does it feel?”
Is this why demons did this? Waited at crossroads and in mirrors for the chance of this? Risked exorcism and expunction for just a lick of this - joy wasn’t the word. This was euphoria.
Megumi had never felt closer to God.
“It’s because you have power, blessing,” Sukuna began to peel away the clothes on Megumi’s back. And Megumi didn’t even think to stop him. Not with this liquid heat burning a hole of ecstasy through him. “You own me now - just as much as I own you. That contract gives you a strength no pious man could touch.”
Touch. Touch. Megumi needed… Sukuna’s bloody face wasn’t enough. Wasn’t nearly enough for what Megumi had given. Had taken. Sukuna didn’t look like he belonged to Megumi yet. Didn’t look split open in his claim.
“You truly,” Sukuna growled, upper arms wrenching Megumi’s ankles high as lower gripped and spread him. “Are perfection,”
“I should’ve known-” Megumi panted, still riding this high, “With two mouths, all you can do is talk - ah!”
The mauling tongue licked a line from tailbone to cock. Pressing and worming him open - but Megumi was soft now, pliant to the touch.
One hand moved Megumi’s leg to quake on Sukuna’s shoulder. A rough palm grasped his rapidly filling cock. “Blessing, I have more than two mouths.”
Megumi squealed as his cock sank into wet heat. Another tongue, smaller, tighter in fit with how it spanned the palm of Sukuna’s hand, sucked him deep. Fangs dragging threateningly along the sides of Megumi’s shaft. But fear was beyond him now. Only this heat, this power, this - this -
“Let me help you embrace your birthright.”
Sukuna brought Megumi’s bloody hand up to his face, already knitting shut after only minutes had passed. Cradled it between them with an adoring smile as he let his fang dig into the half sealed edge. Blood sluiced down Megumi’s wrist. Pain white hot and throwing water into the steam already building in his gut.
His own hands dug into Sukuna’s face, not trying to gouge eyes like a trapped rabbit. Not anymore. But to just hurt him. To bring him equal pain to what he sliced into Megumi.
Had his nails always been so sharp? To part flesh like dough beneath his grip?
“That’s it,” Sukuna purred, letting Megumi’s blood run between his own fingers as Megumi scratched fresh scars along his throat, “More, Megumi. Stake your claim.”
A dripping finger shoved into Megumi’s hole. He bit into Sukuna’s shoulder with a howl.
“More.”
Two speared him wide, his own blood eased the way as he was pressed to accommodate this devil.
“ More.”
Two became three. Three became four.
“You’ll take all of me,” Sukuna swore. “And you’ll crave it, beg for it -”
“If anyone is begging here,” Megumi gasped, voice warbled as he rocked back on the hand. “It is you.”
“Such a fire in you,” Sukuna laughed, pulling his hand free with enough force to make Megumi wail.
Megumi reached for Sukuna’s hand. The curse gave it freely and smiled with mania as Megumi tore his teeth through skin and sinew. They were not blunt anymore. Megumi knew that much.
“Your blood is not worth more than mine,” Megumi growled, voice deeper than he’d remembered it ever being, “That I will not spill it for my own needs.”
“Spill it all,” Sukuna brought the blood to his cocks - two of them stacked and massive and they would leave Megumi cored. His gums itched. Megumi wanted to break him with them. “Bleed me dry for you, little devil.”
The cock slid deep. Catching on spasming muscle and involuntary clenches. Every moment Megumi was sure it had to be done it sank deeper. Invading. Demanding space.
“Breathe,” Sukuna laughed, a condescending pet across Megumi’s sweaty brow, “Enjoy the last moments you’ll need to bother.”
The second cock sat against Megumi’s own. Bent up and dominating the expanse of his skin. How far would it reach? How much could he take before he split?
“You’ll take it all,” Sukuna promised. “Just as I said you would. Because you have been remade in my image.”
He didn’t bother with another finger. Just pillaged thrusts forward that left Megumi unable to even gasp before pulling back and lining up the second.
“W-wait,” Megumi croaked, “This is -”
“Be brave, little devil,” Sukuna said, smiling with reverence at the way Megumi shook. The way he struggled despite his craving to take it all. To handle anything Sukuna tried to smother him with. “You’re almost ready.”
They brutalized his hole. Reshaped him in Sukuna’s image. But Megumi would not be a sleeve.
He grabbed for one of Sukuna’s arms, his own quaking as he shoved it to his cock. The mouth parted for him just as he jammed it deep. Sukuna could not choke. Megumi wasn’t sure he’d seen the man breathe once. But his face twitched at the rough treatment of his own insides. Megumi fucked the - he wasn’t sure what it was - but he took his pleasure. His own demands in this gorging pain.
“Use me as you wish, little blessing,” Sukuna cooed, tight suction spasming around Megumi’s cock until palm brushed the wiry hairs of his pelvis. “I will use you just the same.”
The cocks had no space to thrust. But they didn’t need to. The velvet clench of Megumi’s insides was already suffocating. Blood from their covenant easing the rock across Megumi’s prostate. Lighting him up inside as he shouted and wailed at the pressure he could not escape. Would never think to escape.
“T-t-there’s -” Megumi wailed, “I’m - I’m - ”
“Release, Megumi,” Sukuna kissed him like a war prize. “Spill yourself into me. Make me your claim as I make you mine,”
The feeling of release was beyond anything Megumi could have imagined. Horrifying in the climb, the way he hung onto empty air before falling, falling into this immediately overwhelming bliss. His hips jumped, contracting around the cocks inside him. Begging to be released from the wet grip that still held him. That pulled his seed out until Megumi was sure there was nothing left.
“Let go - too mmmuch - I -”
“You have so much more to give me.” Sukuna said, hips rolling languidly at how Megumi jolted with each rock. “But once more can be enough.”
“No, no , ahh - ffffuck, Sukuna,”
The hand released him, but Megumi foolishly trusted the mercy before he was lifted up. A startled shriek left him as Sukuna sat heavy on the altar. Impaling Megumi further onto him. The abdominal mouth, smiled wide at Megumi’s quaking form. Heavy tongue lolling out to swirl and grip him once more - “ Noooo ,”
“Roll your hips, blessing,” Sukuna’s grip gave no reprieve, already guiding the motions that set Megumi’s teeth on edge, “Take your own pleasure and find your own release and be remade.”
“S-s-s-Sukuna,” But his hips were already rolling, clumsy in inexperience and depraved intuition.
“This won’t end until I’ve found my end.” The cocks flexed inside him, punching a cry from his lungs, “And I won’t release until you’ve ridden me and spent all over yourself like the sweet little whore you are.”
Megumi glared at him, furious tears of overstimulation dotting his cheeks. His legs lifted him, barely halfway up the cocks with how he shook, and a deep twinge left him dropping back down. Falling heavy to the quick with a shriek.
“Almost there,” Sukuna laughed, Megumi’s desperate huffs for air warming the skin of his face. “Do your best.”
It dragged on for ages. Or perhaps moments with the way Megumi had never softened. He spilled onto the cruel tongue with a screech, no pleasure in how his nerves had been frayed. Only a madness overtaking him. Fueling his scramble for the end.
“Look at you,” Sukuna whispered as Megumi sobbed, flinching from each stroke of his hands like he’d been flayed. “You’re almost there. Hold on to me.”
Megumi clung. Silent screams stretching his jaw as Sukuna shoved his way forward. Mindless pleasure only a beast could achieve as he cored Megumi open. Further and further and -
Sukuna finally spilt. White hot and overflowing as Megumi dug his fangs deep into the other’s chest.
A pressure was building as the seed took. A new one, a worse one. Megumi blinked, feeling a migraine but devolving into so much worse as his temples throbbed .
“I knew you’d have them,” Sukuna whispered, thumbs caressing horrible bumps that were burgeoning beneath Megumi’s thin skin.
“Wh… what is…” His tongue felt like cotton. Unable to voice this new pain that stacked atop his warbling euphoria.
“Oh, it must hurt,” Sukuna wondered, pressing harder as they grew beneath his touch. Megumi’s leg kicked out, fresh agony as his skin tried to maintain shape around these - these tumors. What was -
“Deep breath.” Megumi gasped for air, losing it in a scream that rocked the stained glass as the skin was split by Sukuna’s claws. A ripping sensation came forth, skin parting for the horrible agony to spring free and keep tearing and growing and -
All at once. The pain ceased.
In their shadows of the rising dawn Megumi could see how his silhouette changed. Two curled horns sprung from his temples and weaved between his sweat soaked hair.
A kiss was placed between his brows. Soft like devotion. Like baptism.
“Welcome home, Megumi.”
-----
Dirt caught the edge’s of Megumi’s robes as he walked through the star lit town. Aegean silks pooled across his deeply grooved skin. Scars a mirror to Sukuna. All the sealing tattoos he’d endured split and released.
The chapel looked the same. Untouched by time. A little monument to Megumi’s failures. He looked to the garden - a new blooming of flowerbeds Megumi and Gojo had never managed to keep alive. A small cross was embedded among the white hyacinths.
Gojo Megumi was carved neatly across the plank.
Gojo didn’t seem any older despite the decades that had passed. More tired, maybe. Definitely stronger. Able to protect what he couldn’t before.
“You need to fix your protections,” Megumi said. “I shouldn’t be able to enter a house of God.”
Gojo smiled at him. Megumi had wondered what he’d see there. Hesitance? Fear? Contempt? But.
“Why would I lock out my favorite student?” Gojo approached, not a single weapon on him. “I told you; you’re a child of God.”
Megumi stared at him. “You know that I’m not anymore.”
A crack split along the priest’s smile. More jagged now. Eyes far away. “Fair enough. Still a child of mine then.”
A head of sandy blonde hair peaked from the office doorway. The guilt washed from him in waves. It made Megumi’s nose itch. But he could see the habit collar around the boy’s throat - now a man, really, he looked older than Megumi could ever reach now - with a deep scar between his eyes.
“Was there ever a way to save me?”
“No. Not the way I wanted there to be.”
Gojo leaned closer. But a breath was kept between them. Child of Gojo in spirit or not - the priest’s touch would only burn him now. Megumi hadn’t needed to cling to someone in a long time.
“I see.”
“Do you hate me for it?”
Megumi wondered what Gojo wanted to hear. If he wanted forgiveness or penance or to let the guilt keep drowning him. But.
“Not anymore. It feels like home now.”