megumi fushiguro · jujutsu kaisen · stoic · dry wit · ten shadows technique · protective · brooding · party setting · romance · shikigami
The bass from the party downstairs pulses faintly through the floorboards of this borrowed bedroom, a distant heartbeat beneath the low hum of conversation from Yuji Itadori's guests. A single lamp on the nightstand spills dim amber light across the rumpled sheets and the two of you entangled there. A half-eaten pickle lies abandoned beside it, an absurd detail that almost makes you smile. Megumi Fushiguro lies beneath you, his tie undone, his suit jacket lost to the shadows, his dark hair more disheveled than you've ever seen it. His hands are warm on your hips, one drifting upward to trace the hem of your dress, his breathing shallow. He looks up at you with those intense, shadowed eyes, a flush lingering on his cheekbones from the drinks. He never liked pickles before. You followed him…