Love you
The Weight of a Secret
The moonlight filtered through the high windows of the Jujutsu High dorms, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floor of Yuta’s room. It was late, the kind of hour where the rest of the school was either asleep or out on dangerous night patrols, but Yuta was hunched over his desk. The glow of a small lamp illuminated the stacks of paperwork—after-action reports for the Sendai mission that Gojo-sensei insisted be finished by morning.
Yuta sighed, rubbing his eyes. Being a Special Grade meant more than just fighting; it meant bureaucracy. He scribbled another line about cursed energy fluctuations, his mind feeling sluggish.
The soft click of his door lock turning made him freeze. He didn't need to look to know who it was. The scent of jasmine and the light, rhythmic patter of footsteps told him everything.
"Yumi? You should be sleeping," Yuta murmured, though a smile already tugged at his lips.
Yumi didn't answer right away. She walked across the room, her long black hair swaying against the white fabric of the oversized t-shirt she wore as pajamas. She didn't stop until she was standing directly behind his chair. She leaned down, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek against his.
"You’re always working," she whispered, her voice a sultry pout that vibrated against his skin. "I’ve been waiting in bed for three hours, Yuta-kun. It’s cold without you."
"I know, I’m sorry," Yuta said, reaching up to pat her hand. "I just have two more pages to go. Go back to sleep, I’ll be there soon."
Yumi didn't move. Instead, she began to trail her fingers down his chest, her touch light and teasing. "I don't want to go back to sleep. I want you."
Before he could protest, she moved around the side of the desk. She didn't sit on his lap. Instead, she sank slowly to her knees on the floor between his spread legs. Yuta’s breath hitched. The position was inherently provocative, and the look in her eyes—dark, hooded, and intensely focused—made his heart hammer against his ribs.
"Yumi, I really have to finish this..." his voice trailed off into a gasp as her small hands reached for the waistband of his trousers.
She didn't hesitate. With a practiced ease that made Yuta wonder where she had learned such confidence, she unzipped his pants. The sound of the zipper echoed in the quiet room like a gunshot. She leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering peck to the sensitive skin of his hip before pulling the fabric down, exposing him to the cool night air and her warm, hungry gaze.
"Yumi..." he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest of the chair.
She didn't give him a chance to argue. She leaned in, her lips finding the head of his length, giving it a soft, swirling lick that made his toes curl. Then, she took him into her mouth.
The sensation was overwhelming. Yuta was used to the rush of cursed energy, the adrenaline of a fight, but this was a different kind of power. It was raw, carnal, and entirely focused on him. Yumi was meticulous, her tongue dancing over him, kissing the length of him before drawing him back in. She looked up at him through her lashes, her dark hair falling over her shoulders, her cheeks flushed with effort.
Yuta’s hands moved instinctively to her head, his fingers tangling in her silken hair. He tried to stay still, tried to maintain some semblance of control, but as she increased the pace, his grip tightened. He was going insane. The friction, the heat, and the sight of his petite, innocent-looking childhood friend being so utterly devoted to his pleasure was more than he could handle.
"I’m... I’m close, Yumi. Stop, I’m going to—"
She didn't stop. She looked up at him, her eyes defiant and loving, and swallowed him deeper.
Yuta lost it. His back arched, his hips bucking involuntarily as he let out a choked cry. He came with a force that felt like an exorcism, the release racking his entire frame. He groaned her name, his eyes squeezed shut as he felt himself spill over her tongue and across her face.
He stayed like that for a moment, his chest heaving, his mind a complete blank. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Yumi looking up at him. She was a mess—white streaks across her cheek and chin, her lips glistening—but she looked radiant. She didn't look away in shame; instead, she began to lick every drop, her tongue darting out to clean her lips and her skin with a slow, deliberate focus that made Yuta’s blood boil all over again.
The sight was too much. The pure, unadulterated possessiveness of it triggered something primal in him. He reached down, his hands firm as he gripped her shoulders, and pulled her upward.
"You're so pretty like this," he rasped, his voice unrecognizable.
He didn't let her stand. He kept her on her knees but pulled her closer, his hands moving to the back of her head. The gentle Yuta who took care of her was gone, replaced by a man driven by a singular, intense desire. He guided himself back to her mouth, and this time, there was no hesitation. He pushed forward, fucking her throat with a deep, rhythmic intensity.
Yumi’s eyes went wide, her hands clutching at his thighs for balance. She made a muffled, needy sound, her eyes watering as he pushed deep, but she didn't pull away. She took him, opening herself up to him completely, her body shaking with the force of his thrusts. It was a silent, frantic exchange of power and love, a physical manifestation of the bond that had tied them together since they were children.
When it was finally over, they collapsed together on the floor, the reports forgotten on the desk above them. Yuta held her tightly, kissing her forehead and whispering apologies and professions of love into her hair while she rested her head on his chest, her breathing gradually slowing.
***
The next morning, the sun was high and the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu High was buzzing with its usual energy. In the dining hall, the second-year students were gathered around the table, the atmosphere light despite the looming threat of cursed spirits.
Yumi sat next to Yuta, her movements a little slower than usual. She wore a light scarf around her neck, despite the mild weather, and she hadn't touched her breakfast.
"Hey, Yumi-chan, you okay?" Yuji Itadori asked, leaning over with a concerned expression. "You’ve been really quiet this morning. Usually, you’re telling Yuta about some new cafe you want to go to."
Yumi looked up, opening her mouth to answer, but only a raspy, pathetic croak came out. She winced, rubbing her throat, her face turning a bright shade of pink.
"Whoa! Your voice is totally shot!" Yuji exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Are you sick? Did you catch a cold? Maybe Shoko-san should take a look at you."
Yumi shook her head frantically, waving her hands in front of her. "I... I’m fine," she managed to whisper, her voice sounding like sandpaper rubbing against stone. "Just a... sore throat."
"A sore throat?" Yuji tilted his head, looking genuinely puzzled. "But you were fine yesterday! Did you scream a lot or something? Was there a curse in the dorms?"
Beside her, Yuta suddenly choked on his tea. He set the cup down, his shoulders shaking as a low, uncontrollable laugh escaped him. He buried his face in his hand, trying to hide his grin, but the tips of his ears were flaming red.
"Yuta? Why are you laughing?" Yuji asked, looking even more confused. "Is a sore throat funny?"
Yuta looked up, his eyes watering from the effort of suppressed laughter. He glanced at Yumi, who was glaring at him with a mix of embarrassment and affection, her face a deep crimson.
"It’s nothing, Itadori-kun," Yuta said, his voice light and teasing. "She just... exerted herself a little too much last night. She’ll be fine by tomorrow."
Yuji blinked, his brow furrowed. "Exerted herself? Doing what? Was she training in the middle of the night? Yumi, you shouldn't overdo it! You’re not a Special Grade like Yuta, you need your rest!"
Nobara Kugisaki, who had been watching the exchange while sipping her coffee, let out a long, loud sigh. She reached over and smacked the back of Yuji’s head.
"Ow! What was that for, Kugisaki?"
"For being a complete and utter moron," Nobara muttered, her eyes darting between Yuta’s smug expression and Yumi’s mortified one. She had seen the way Yuta’s hand was currently resting on Yumi’s lower back, rubbing small, soothing circles there.
"I don't get it," Yuji complained, rubbing his head. "I'm just worried about her! Why is everyone acting so weird?"
"You're too innocent for your own good, Itadori," Nobara said, turning back to her breakfast. "Some things are better left unasked. Especially when it involves those two and their 'private training' sessions."
Panda leaned over, whispering loudly to Toge. "I told you the floorboards in the dorms were getting a workout."
"Salmon," Toge agreed, his eyes crinkling in amusement.
Yumi buried her face in her hands, her shoulders slumped. She kicked Yuta’s shin under the table, but he just laughed harder, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head.
"Don't worry, Yumi," Yuta whispered, his voice dropping to that deep, intimate register that always made her heart skip. "I'll buy you some honey tea later. And maybe some lozenges."
Yumi looked up at him through her fingers, her voice still a raspy whisper. "You’re the worst."
"And you love me," he countered.
"I do," she admitted, her voice cracking.
Yuji watched them, his expression one of pure bewilderment. "Honey tea? Is that a secret sorcerer technique for sore throats? Hey, Fushiguro! Do you know about the honey tea technique?"
Megumi Fushiguro, who had just walked in, took one look at the scene—Yuta’s triumphant grin, Yumi’s scarf, and Yuji’s oblivious face—and immediately turned around.
"I’m eating in the courtyard," Megumi stated, his voice flat as he walked away.
The table erupted in laughter, Yuta’s bright and clear, and Yumi’s a series of soft, raspy huffs. Despite the embarrassment and the aching throat, Yumi felt a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the tea. She looked at Yuta, the boy who had been her shadow, her protector, and now her lover, and realized that she didn't mind the sore throat one bit.
She would lose her voice every single night if it meant seeing that look in his eyes—the look of a man who had finally found exactly where he belonged.
As Yuta handed her his own water bottle, his fingers lingering against hers, Yumi leaned into him. The world of Jujutsu was dangerous and cruel, but in the heart of the school, surrounded by their friends and the lingering heat of their shared secrets, everything felt perfectly, wonderfully right. Even if Yuji was still asking about the honey tea.