Chapter Text
Chapter 1
How Did We Get Here?
Fushiguro Megumi
“Good morning, sunshine.” The voice, too loud and too cheerful, carried through the door and Megumi jerked awake. The light, even in its dimmed state, made him squint. The door opened and Gojo, draped in moonlight, stepped into the room. “I need you for a quick second.”
The words penetrated Megumi’s consciousness and he forced himself to sit up in his bed. His hair hung over his face, and he let it cover his eyes as he spoke. “Cannot this wait until the morning?”
“I'm afraid not. Now get up; the early bird gets the worm and all that.” Gojo left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving the room dark. Megumi pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes. He glanced out of the window. The cloudless night sky was bright from moon light.
It must have been like three in the morning. Did he ever sleep?
Gojo was a handful. His volatile disposition made everyone feel as if they were walking on knives, but Megumi knew that beneath the brash exterior was a caring man. Gojo had given him a life, a purpose, and despite his capricious nature, Megumi trusted him with his life, wanted to learn everything he could from him.
Not left with much of an option, he washed his face and dressed, then walked out into the corridor. Gojo was standing in front of a window, his blindfold on, deep in thought as he peered at the quiet landscape below. The faint glow of a handful of lights leaked in through the window and cast eerie shadows over the man’s uniform.
An imposing figure. He emanated power and strength; his mere presence demanding respect. How did one even contain strength like that? How could it be put under a lid and expected to stay sealed?
Megumi yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “So, where are we going? Did something happen? Is there a mission?”
Gojo turned to face him and smiled. It was an infuriatingly stupid boyish grin, the kind of smile he had been given every time he had asked a difficult question. “No, nothing happened.”
Megumi raised an eyebrow. “Then what did I wake up for?”
Gojo’s smile was so wide Megumi was sure his face would break in half. “Isn’t the promise of spending time with me enough of a reason? Aren’t you excited to see me, ‘gumi?”
“With all due respect, we can do that during the day.” Megumi turned on his heel to head back to his room.
Gojo’s hand clamped on his shoulder. He reluctantly turned around and faced the man, who was standing even closer than before. With his other hand he pushed a strand of hair behind Megumi’s ear. There was a frown on Gojo’s face, and then a half smile. “You trust me, right?”
Megumi nodded slowly.
“I need you to follow me to my room,” Gojo said, lowering his voice.
“Excuse me?” Megumi took a step back.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Gojo said in a reassuring voice. “I know that I’m handsome, but my intentions are pure. Your virtue will remain intact.”
Megumi’s eyes widened at the meaning. Instead of saying anything coherent, he merely mumbled something under his breath. It was too early in the morning and perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him; maybe he was dreaming, or maybe he had misheard Gojo’s words.
Gojo clapped his hands and turned to leave. “Now that this is settled, please follow me. Be discreet; it would not be good for us to be seen together at this hour.”
Megumi stared dumbfounded at Gojo’s back, but he didn’t feel like arguing would get him anywhere, so begrudgingly, he followed the man to see what was so important for a late-night visit.
Gojo was unusually silent as they climbed the stairs to the teachers’ floor. They stopped in front of a door that had a golden number seven hanging on a nail, and Megumi was surprised Gojo hadn’t fought the whole school to get number one instead.
The man unlocked the door and let him in, then stepped behind Megumi to lock it. The room was surprisingly clean and minimally decorated. A corridor led to a moderate living room with a few chairs and a large bookcase. A door to the bedroom was slightly ajar, and he spotted a very high and large bed with messy deep purple sheets.
Gojo sat down in an armchair, legs up on an ottoman, while Megumi stood awkwardly, unsure of how long the talk would be.
“Make yourself at home,” Gojo finally said when he realised that Megumi wouldn’t sit down unless he was prompted to. Megumi chose a chair that was as far away from Gojo as he could get. The man pouted. “You wound me.”
“Are we done with the pleasantries?” Megumi pushed, feeling uneasy being in a teacher’s apartment this early in the morning.
“Do you maybe want a drink? Water? Coffee? Beer?”
“Let’s get this over with, please.”
Gojo sighed.
“Very well. I have a proposition to make that I think you should accept.” He seemed to be thinking carefully about his next words, which was odd for a man who didn’t normally have a filter.
“I won’t agree to anything if you don’t tell me what it is you want first.” Megumi’s voice was even; he was not in the mood for games when his bed was still warm downstairs.
“So pushy.” Gojo shrugged his large shoulders, leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting in his hand, and stared into Megumi’s soul through the blindfold. “Okay, very well. There might be a way to save Itadori, so he doesn’t have to die when we have all of Sukuna’s fingers.”
Megumi leaned away from Gojo and clenched his fists, impatient with this discussion. “If there is a way to help Itadori, you have to tell me.”
Gojo chewed on his lip. “This method isn’t conventional.”
Megumi’s heart felt heavy when he remembered Itadori falling to the ground, a gaping hole where his heart should have been. Desperately, he wanted to save him. He might have shared some characteristics with Gojo—mostly that they were both awfully cheerful and annoying—but Megumi considered him a friend. The first time he had seen Itadori die, it had nearly destroyed him; he didn’t want to mourn him again.
“What is it you want me to do?”
“I need you to win Sukuna’s trust.”
“What?” Megumi exclaimed. “He is a curse. He doesn’t have one decent bone in his body.”
Gojo grinned slyly. “You don’t seem to be the type to back down from a challenge.”
“You’re serious.” Megumi was not even trying to hide the disbelief in his voice.
“Don’t worry.” Gojo stood and walked to the window. God only knew what he was seeing there. “I have a plan for getting you two to work together. I wouldn’t throw my student into guaranteed failure just because he feels the need to be an ass. I, after all, am a considerate teacher.”
“You’re absolutely insane.”
Gojo ignored the insult and continued. “There might be something that Sukuna wants more than freedom and destruction. What he’s missing is hope, and maybe a little fun while he’s spending an eternity in his domain.”
“You want me to entertain the king of curses?” Megumi couldn’t believe a word coming out of Gojo’s mouth.
“That’s right,” Gojo replied and turned to face him again. Megumi felt himself sink into the armchair. “And make him believe that he can use you to get past me. It will all be very safe for you, of course. I’ll be there, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Please do tell how you intend to do that.” Megumi’s mouth was dry. The whole situation was crazy. Perhaps there had been a difficult mission tonight and Gojo had lost the last screw holding his mind together.
“Of course!” Gojo sat down on the floor in front of Megumi, his legs crossed and a bright smile on his face. “Now that you are on board, there are some rules. First, no one can know, including Itadori. Sukuna has something that would help us divide him from Itadori, but it’s something that he can only give willingly. So, we must make sure he thinks everything you do, you do willingly.”
“I didn’t say I was on board—”
“Shh.” Gojo leaned in and placed a finger on Megumi’s lips to shut him up, making his eyes go wide from the unexpected contact. “Second, you need to enter his innate domain, so you two can interact. With only a few fingers, he is weak, and it’s easy for me to break you out if something happened. I will protect you with my curse energy so he cannot hurt you.”
Megumi grabbed Gojo’s hand and pulled the finger from his mouth. “He could sense your energy. Why would he trust me?”
“He won’t.” Gojo chuckled darkly.
“I don’t think I follow,” Megumi gritted through clenched teeth. His nerves were fried. The idea of voluntarily spending time with Sukuna was making him sick to his stomach.
“He will expect there to be some trick anyways. He’s the king of curses. So, we give him something to be suspicious of. It will be very difficult for you to act warm towards him at first, so you will tell him that you were sent there against your will, to learn more about him and curses in general. As time passes and you start getting along... better, you will play the part of the betrayer, turning against us.”
“This is never going to work. He’ll know something isn’t right.”
Gojo leaned in again and pulled the blindfold down. He was so close that it felt impossibly intimate. “You can trust me, can’t you?”
Megumi—again—nodded, because fuck, he did, and the feeling of sinking in the endless galaxy of Gojo’s eyes wasn’t helping.
“Everything will work out in due time,” Gojo reassured him and brought a hand to Megumi’s cheek. Megumi felt a spark run through him as their skin touched. “This is all you need to know for now,” he said softly. “Just trust me.”
Megumi couldn’t help but lean into his teacher’s hand a little, finding comfort in the warm skin.
When he returned to his room, he couldn’t fall asleep again. Every time he closed his eyes, it was Sukuna’s face he saw. His head throbbed with every heartbeat; the memory of his sick smirk etched upon his mind like a rusty blade. He tried to find one good thing to focus on that would help him perform his role, but of course, there was nothing.
Gojo had explained that they would start tomorrow, so he should get some rest. From now on, he would go to Sukuna’s innate domain for a few hours every day. He remembered their fight when he had thought he would die—when Itadori had died. Back then, he would have given anything to escape, and now he was to willingly seek out the demon.
Megumi did not know why he had agreed to the impossible. But somewhere deep down, he knew that from the second Gojo brought the subject up, he would agree. Gojo had asked if he trusted him, and even though the man was insane, Megumi really did. He wanted to save his friend and he wanted to be good. What would it matter if he had to suppress his own morality and put himself in danger to execute the plan?
The plan itself wasn’t very complicated. They had stored a few of Sukuna’s fingers at the school until Itadori would be ready to consume them. Megumi would hold one and Gojo’s technique would help him enter his domain. What was to come afterwards was the difficult part.
He tried to visualise how it would be when he entered the domain for the first time. What would it look like? A throne built of skulls would be fitting. What would he even say? Hello, I am very sorry to disturb your peace, oh king of curses. I am to spend time with you every day now, so get used to it.
He sure hoped that Gojo knew what he was doing because Sukuna would tear his throat out for that.
Begrudgingly, when the first sunrays peeked into the room, he fell asleep again.
“—now remember, Gojo-sensei won’t let him hurt you.” Gojo smiled down on him, holding one of Sukuna’s fingers in his palm.
He had cast some protection on Megumi, which would last for a few hours. Gojo himself would be weaker during this time because he was lending his energy to Megumi, but he had assured Megumi that he had more than enough to deal with any threat. The protection would be recast every time he entered the innate domain.
He looked up at his teacher who still held the confident smile. Megumi took a deep breath and grabbed the finger, feeling it squish in his palm like warm water.
Immediately, the world around him turned dark. He had to squint his eyes to see past the blinding darkness. When his vision returned, he clenched his teeth in horror, because what he’d feared was true.
Sukuna sat on a throne of skulls, leaning on his right hand, and looked down in amusement. Megumi tried to take a step back but hadn’t considered the blood that covered the ground and stumbled, falling on his back.
For a moment he couldn't breathe, head underneath the blood, the taste of it in his mouth. With a gasp he emerged from the pool, still feeling like he was drowning. The stench was overpowering, catching in his throat, causing him to gag.
“How curious, Fushiguro Megumi. Do tell me, to what I owe the pleasure of your visit.” Sukuna’s voice was so damn deep and calm, a hint of mirth on his tongue when he pronounced Megumi’s name.
Megumi gaped.
Everything he had practised the night before, died on his lips. His body was paralysed in shock, disgusting blood dripping from his hair. In his mind’s eye, he saw the sea of blood parting in two as the ground swallowed him up whole.
“You reek of Gojo. What did he send you for?” Sukuna didn’t sound amused anymore, and as the mortification ebbed, Megumi started to feel fear.
“I—” Megumi started but couldn’t continue with how vulnerable he felt laying on his back in front of the king of curses. He struggled to push himself up, only managing to get onto one knee and wiped blood from his lips. He looked up again. Sukuna smirked, and Megumi realised that he was humiliating himself. With trembling hands, he pushed himself up and stood to face the curse. When he spoke, he managed to keep his voice steady. “I am here to learn more about your kind, the curses.”
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, but that was the only reaction Megumi got. “If Satoru wants to learn more about me, he should come himself.”
“He is otherwise occupied,” Megumi lied and as the words spilled from his lips, he understood that Sukuna would see straight through them.
“You are a terrible liar. That is a good thing. I understand that Satoru wants something, and you are the unfortunate soul he’s using. Since I’m not going to give you anything and Satoru is stubborn, we will see a lot of each other.” He leaned forward on his throne, crimson burning like hellfire in his eyes as he looked Megumi up and down. “Let’s get one thing straight, boy. As long as you are wrapped in Satoru’s energy, you are unwelcome here.”
In a blink, Sukuna was in his face, his fingers—no claws—around Megumi’s throat.
Gojo was wrong, it didn ’t work. He will die there.
He felt nails dig into his skin, the hold tightening. Sukuna was taller than him, stronger than him, his body pushing Megumi backwards, down into the blood again. The grin on the curse’s face was so sharp it could have cut stone, his eyes wide and red, and so bloody eager to tear Megumi to pieces.
He shut his eyes tight, not wanting to have the wild red eyes be the last thing he saw.
A push.
Ears ringing.
There was a force so strong he was thrown backwards, sliding several meters before he came to a halt. He lay there, eyes squeezed shut, expecting the other to end him.
The blow didn’t come. He let his muscles relax and peeked one eye open to see what had happened.
Sukuna was on the other side of the domain, the force had made him crush into his throne, the skulls a mess around his unmoving body. For a moment, Megumi thought that he had died from the blast. But then there was laughter, and Megumi let his head fall back into the blood, closing his eyes softly.
Why had he agreed to this?
“Oh, this is truly brilliant, Satoru!” Sukuna exclaimed through the laughter, his voice filling the whole room. “Protecting your pet by giving him your own curse. Truly, a masterpiece. Makes sense why it reeked of you the second he popped in.”
Megumi opened his eyes again and looked in the direction of the voice, curious if Gojo had entered the domain, because Sukuna was clearly speaking to him. However, it was still the two of them. Sukuna had gotten up, laughing, and speaking up into the ceiling as if Gojo was above them.
“Tell me, Satoru,” Sukuna continued, completely ignoring Megumi’s presence. “Have you considered that maybe the boy isn’t a halfwit and will actually use the energy you have loaded him up with? He is a fucking Armageddon, given the right release.”
Sukuna glanced at Megumi at the last word, a playful glint in his eyes, the eyes under his eyes smiling in unison.
Now that the attention was back on Megumi, he felt himself shrink. The curse was manic, a tropical storm that wiped over countries without any regard for the casualties left behind.
Hope.
Gojo had wanted to give him hope. He had loaded Megumi up with his own energy for Sukuna to use—or to think he could use.
How much had he given him to get such a reaction? Megumi didn’t feel any different from before.
“We will have a lovely time together indeed,” Sukuna said as he appeared in front of Megumi, his hand out to help the other stand. Megumi blinked. He looked up at the red eyes and down at the outstretched hand before he clasped their hands together.
Sukuna pulled him up and, in a moment, Megumi’s clothes were dry and clean, the blood on the ground parting around his feet. The throne was fixed, back to its previous terrible height.
Sukuna stood in front of him, completely at ease as he waited for Megumi to lead the conversation. He hadn’t thought this through, hadn’t thought they would get this far. Megumi had expected the other to try murder him, and Gojo pull him out.
“So—What is it that you do all day?” He forced the words out and grimaced at how terrible it was to small talk with a curse.
The corner of Sukuna’s mouth tugged up. “Do you wish me to show you?”
“If it is acceptable,” Megumi said cautiously, wanting to add Sukuna-sama to the end with the authority that filled the room, and had to kick himself in his mind.
The next moment, Megumi was seated, and as his brain registered what his eyes were seeing, he came to a sick conclusion that he was looking down the innate domain… from Sukuna’s throne.
“I spend most of my time here.” Sukuna’s voice came from his right. Megumi turned to see the curse sitting on the armrest of the throne, leaning over Megumi, and making him feel incredibly small in the large seat. Even sitting on his throne, Megumi was dwarfed by Sukuna’s size. “I find the view agreeable.”
Megumi wanted to answer that the view was fine, but then realised that Sukuna wasn’t speaking about the domain. He tore his eyes from the other and looked down the mountain of skulls again.
“Doesn’t it get monotone? All this blood and gore?” he asked instead.
Sukuna hummed.
“Indeed, I wish there was more blood. If I had my body again, I would make the streets flood with blood and guts.” His voice was dreamy, and the mental image made Megumi shudder. “But tell me, Fushiguro, why did Satoru really send his pet here?”
“I want to learn more—”
“Stop,” Sukuna ordered. “I thought we were friends. You should not lie to your friends, Fushiguro.”
Trust.
Megumi looked up carefully. Sukuna was wearing a contemptuous smile, oozing dominance as he leaned over him. He was looking at Itadori’s face, remembered his lifeless body.
The air started to feel thick and moist as if a thick fog had descended. Even though he wasn’t covered in blood anymore, it still reeked and had left an iron taste on his tongue. Panic rose again, further constricting the vice around his chest.
He couldn’t fall apart here, not now. He had promised Gojo that he would see this through.
Sukuna read him like an open book and his smile fell, followed by an annoyed sigh. A snap of his fingers, and Megumi found himself seated... in a garden. The air was cool, but the dread refused to leave as his brain was trying to figure out the punchline. He scanned his surrounding, expecting blood and gore to start raining from the sky, but seconds ticked by, and the garden didn’t lose its serenity.
It was a small garden, with flora that Megumi had never seen before. The sky was dark, a few stars peeking through. Some of the flowers glowed, their shine giving the garden a blue and purple hue. He breathed in deep, and relaxed visibly against the bench, when he found the air fresh and pleasant.
“Is this more to your liking?” Sukuna asked, his voice bored. He sat on the opposite bench, legs parted wide, one arm lazily on the backrest. He didn’t wait for an answer before he snapped his fingers again, and a warm evening breeze blew over Megumi. “You humans are so predictable.”
“Thank you,” Megumi said sincerely. If they had stayed in the throne room a moment longer, Megumi would have had a panic attack, and he didn’t want to find out how Gojo’s energy mixed with him losing control.
Sukuna dismissed the gratitude with a wave of his hand. “Now, I helped you, you help me. Why did Satoru send you?”
“I… I cannot tell you,” Megumi said honestly, hoping that it would be enough, and knowing that it wasn’t.
The curse hummed again.
“It’s progress that you didn’t lie this time, but I do not deem this an acceptable answer.”
Megumi’s hands were sweating as he fixated on them on his lap, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t disappoint Sukuna and give away Gojo. A butterfly landed on his laced fingers. Its wings were red with black lines and dots, resembling the curse’s tattoos.
“I am here to entertain you.”
Sukuna eyed him, considering the answer. The four eyes studied him a moment longer before a wild glint appeared in them, knowing that Megumi had told the truth. Megumi wanted to curse himself for having given that away, but what other choice did he have.
“Well, in that case,” Sukuna said, voice dripping with honey.
He snapped his fingers again, and they were in a room, completely engulfed in red light. Sukuna sat on a black leather couch, legs parted, both arms stretched out on the backrest. The expression on his face was so filthy that Megumi had to glance down to see whether he was still wearing his clothes. Sukuna’s white kimono was off, only a pair of black pants on.
Sukuna leaned back, his whole body on display. “Go ahead. Do entertain me.”
The immense and immediate change in cursed energy made Megumi’s head spin. He was frozen on the spot, mouth hanging open stupidly, trying to form words, but what the hell did one say in such a situation?
“Please, take us back,” he whispered.
Sukuna leaned forward, every movement precise and slow, as if he was the one giving Megumi a show.
“It was your proposal.” Sukuna laughed. “Is this what they teach sorcerers these days—to please curses? You are awful at it, but don’t worry.” A grin so predatory, Megumi took a step back. “You will learn.”
There was no blood, no gore, but Megumi felt even sicker than he had before. The air had a slight smoke to it, the room warm and air still.
He was going to break. Right then and there.
Yet, this was the exact reason he was there—to charm and distract Sukuna, to be of use to Gojo. He had known that entertaining wouldn’t mean art museums and opera. Of course, it would be something twisted. This probably wasn’t even the worst of Sukuna’s interests.
Megumi thought of his friend. Itadori would be free. He could live a long life and find a good death on his own terms. Sukuna would be gone, and a large part of the curse problem would be solved. If Megumi played his part, everyone would be alright. Itadori’s life and the balance of the whole world hung on Megumi’s shoulders. He couldn’t let everyone down just because he felt sick to his stomach.
“Teach me,” he said and locked eyes with the curse. He looked down Sukuna’s body and felt his throat seal up when he realised that this was essentially Itadori’s body. This was his friend.
How the hell had his life come to this point?
But this wasn’t a physical place, just a mental one. Two intangible bodies. He wouldn’t cross any boundaries by engaging in this. He wouldn’t touch his best friend.
It was one sacrifice over the gain of so many.
“Good,” Sukuna said, his voice gravel, but the praise sent a satisfying shiver down Megumi’s spine. “Come here. On my lap.”
Megumi turned the rational part of his brain off as he followed the order. He put trembling hands on Sukuna’s naked chest and lowered himself down to his lap. Sukuna’s face was inches from his, but for once, Megumi wasn’t below him. A tattooed tongue slid out of Sukuna’s mouth to wet his lips, and a hand slithered up Megumi’s back.
“You will eventually tell me the truth, Fushiguro,” Sukuna amended, other hand gripping Megumi’s waist to pull him closer. “But for now, I will play along with your game. I hope you know what you have signed up for.”
Sukuna pulled him flush against his chest, Megumi’s face buried in the nook of his shoulder. The curse let his hand roam over his back, and it felt warm. It felt good to be touched.
Megumi hadn't realised how touch deprived he was. He found pride in his solitary behaviour, his unreadable expression. It was a strength to never let anyone close.
This was the absolute opposite of strength. This was letting go, trusting—and not in Sukuna, but in Gojo—that he would be safe. He felt Gojo on Sukuna’s fingers, as if guiding them to not cross an invisible boundary the two had agreed upon.
Megumi’s eyes snapped open when he felt Sukuna’s hand on the side of his neck, and his lips on the pulse. Reflexively, Megumi pulled back, but the hand detained him, the lips giving a low laugh.
“Maybe I was wrong, you aren’t as awful at this after all. Does it feel good to grind against me?”
This time Megumi did pull back and cast his eyes down in shame. He hadn’t realised, but now he did feel it. Sukuna’s dick was hard against his ass, his own equally so. He wanted to pull back further, but Sukuna held him by the waist.
“You moan so prettily too.” The curse chuckled and ran the hand that had held his throat down his chest. He was still wearing his uniform, but he felt terribly naked under Sukuna’s fingers. The curse stopped at the waistband and looked back up at Megumi. “Do you derive pleasure from having me under you?”
Megumi choked and turned his face away because he didn’t trust himself to answer.
“I take that as a yes.” A smirk. The hand left the hem of his pants and grabbed his chin, and Megumi whined, the sound coming out so needy that he didn’t even recognise it as his own.
“If only Satoru could see you now.” The curse laughed darkly.
Sukuna tilted his head upwards and licked all the way up from Megumi’s collarbone to his jaw, then tilted his face down again and kissed him on the lips, raw and brutal. Sharp teeth clawed at his lower lip.
Then there was nothing.
Megumi blinked in confusion and found two blue eyes staring down on him.
“Go—Gojo,” he managed, but it escaped as a moan, and he clasped his hand over his mouth to stop himself for making any more sounds.
Gojo’s face was serious when he spoke. “Are you okay?”
Megumi nodded, his hand still covering his mouth. He was so damn hard that he had difficulty not grinding upwards towards Gojo... who was leaning over him, because Megumi... was lying on the floor. This was becoming a theme of his life as of late. He was panting hard, the hand on his mouth making it more difficult to breathe, but he was absolutely against humiliating himself further.
Gojo stood and gave him a hand to help him stand. Flashbacks played from when Sukuna helped him up, and where it had led them. He bit the inside of his hand to shut his betraying mind off. He lay there a moment longer before he let his hand fall from his mouth and accepted Gojo’s to get up.
“We can go now,” Megumi said when he had his breathing under control again.
Gojo gave him another look before he wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You look terrible and need to rest. Others cannot see you like this. You can use my room until you feel better.”
Before Megumi could argue, they stood in Gojo’s living room. He wobbled slightly, but Gojo held him upright.
“Rest, I will see you later and we can talk then.”
With that he just left.
Megumi went to the bathroom to see what Gojo meant by saying he looked terrible, and almost turned right around when he got a glimpse at his reflection.
His hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot. A blush ran all the way from his cheeks to his nose, even the tips of his ears were still red. There was dried drool in the corner of his mouth that he wasn’t certain was his or Sukuna’s.
He shook his head because no, it hadn’t been real. The reflection he saw was how his physical body had responded to what had happened in his mind. He blushed further when he envisioned Gojo standing over his body, seeing god-knows-what, while Sukuna tormented his mind.
He groaned and proceeded to wash his face. He wanted to brush his teeth, but since his toothbrush was downstairs, he had to squeeze toothpaste on his finger to clean his mouth that way. Sukuna’s lips hadn’t really been on his, but he still felt the taste on his tongue.
When he deemed himself clean enough, mouth scrubbed to a dull ache, he fell in Gojo’s bed and pulled the purple sheets over his head. He fell into a fitful sleep with the taste of blood lingering on his tongue and the room spinning around him.