Love

The dormitory room was quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic, soft sounds of skin against skin. Yuta Okkotsu sat on the edge of his bed, his large frame providing a sturdy anchor for Yumi, who was currently straddling his lap.

Yumi was a slip of a girl, small and deceptively delicate-looking, though her personality was a vibrant burst of energy that often left Yuta dizzy in the best way possible. Today, she had opted for her modified jujutsu uniform—the skirt hemmed high enough to be a distraction even when she was just walking down the hall. Now, hiked up as she sat across him, it was downright dangerous.

She leaned in, her small hands cupping his face before sliding down to grip his shoulders. Her lips found the sensitive juncture of his neck and shoulder, and Yuta let out a low, shaky breath. Yumi wasn't just kissing him; she was teasing him, her tongue tracing the line of his pulse before she nipped at the skin with her teeth.

"Yumi," Yuta groaned, his head falling back. His hands, usually so steady when wielding a katana, were trembling slightly as they found her waist.

She didn't answer with words. Instead, she moved her mouth upward, her breath hot against his ear. "You're so tense, Yuta," she whispered, her voice a playful lilt that made his stomach flip. She swirled her tongue against the shell of his ear, laughing softly when she felt him shudder beneath her.

Yuta’s hands migrated downward. He couldn't help himself. He squeezed the soft curves of her rear, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Yumi let out a tiny, satisfied hum, arching her back as his thumbs brushed against the undersides of her small breasts through the dark fabric of her top.

She leaned back just enough to look him in the eyes, her expression a mix of mischief and genuine affection. Then, she dived back in, capturing his lips with hers. It started deep and hungry, their tongues dancing in a frantic rhythm that mirrored the accelerating beat of Yuta’s heart. He was definitely feeling the effects of her proximity; the friction of her thighs against his was pushing him right to the edge of his self-control.

Just as Yuta’s grip tightened on her hips, his phone began to blare from the nightstand. The ringtone—the standard, jarring jingle—cut through the heavy atmosphere like a cursed tool through a low-level spirit.

They both froze. Yuta tried to ignore it, burying his face in her neck, but the phone was relentless. It stopped, then immediately started again.

"It might be Gojo-sensei," Yumi whispered, though she looked just as annoyed as he felt.

Yuta sighed, his forehead resting against hers. "He usually just breaks through the window if it’s an emergency." He reached out blindly, grabbing the device. The caller ID showed Yuji Itadori’s name.

"It’s Yuji," Yuta muttered. He swiped to answer, keeping his voice as steady as possible while Yumi began to trail her fingers distractedly along his collarbone. "Hey, Yuji. Is everything okay?"

"Yuta! Sorry to bother you," Yuji’s voice boomed through the speaker, sounding far too energetic for the mood in the room. "But Megumi and I are at the training grounds. We’re trying to figure out that cursed energy output thing you showed us last week, and we’re totally stuck. Megumi says we’re doing it right, but nothing’s happening. Can you come help?"

Yuta looked down at Yumi. She was pouting now, her lower lip tucked out in a way that made him want to hang up and toss the phone across the room.

"Now?" Yuta asked, his voice a bit strained.

"Yeah! If you’re not busy? We’ve got snacks!"

Yuta closed his eyes, feeling the prominent ache in his trousers. "Give me ten minutes, Yuji. I’ll be there."

"Awesome! See ya!"

The line went dead. Yuta dropped the phone and looked at Yumi, who was now leaning back with her arms crossed over her chest, her miniskirt still bunched up around her hips.

"Duty calls?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock disappointment.

"I’m so sorry," Yuta said, his voice sounding deeper than usual. He didn't move to let her up yet. Instead, he pulled her back into one last, searing kiss that left them both breathless.

"Go," she laughed, pushing against his chest. "Before Yuji comes looking for you."

Yuta didn't move immediately. He stayed seated, taking long, slow breaths, trying to force his heart rate to climb down from the ceiling. Yumi stayed on his lap for a moment longer, enjoying the flush on his face, before sliding off and smoothing out her skirt with a cheeky wink.

"Take your time," she teased, heading toward the door. "You look like you need a minute."

It actually took Yuta nearly five minutes of staring at the ceiling and reciting complex barrier techniques in his head before he felt composed enough to stand up and pull his jacket on.

When Yuta arrived at the training grounds, he was greeted by the sight of Yuji jumping over a hurdle and Megumi standing stoically by a weapon rack. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, orange shadows across the concrete.

"There he is!" Yuji shouted, waving frantically. "Took you long enough. Did you get lost on the way from the dorms?"

Yuta walked over, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His expression was uncharacteristically pinched, his brows drawn together in a subtle scowl. "I was busy," he said briefly.

Megumi looked Yuta up and down, his eyes narrowing. He noticed the slight disarray of Yuta’s hair—messier than usual—and the fact that his collar was turned inward on one side.

"You look annoyed," Megumi noted, his voice flat.

"I'm not annoyed," Yuta lied.

"You totally are!" Yuji chimed in, walking over and throwing an arm around Yuta’s shoulder. "Your 'Special Grade' aura is all prickly today. Did Gojo-sensei eat your leftovers again? Because he did that to my pudding yesterday and I was ready to throw hands."

"It’s not Gojo-sensei," Yuta said, sighing as he adjusted his posture. "What are you guys struggling with?"

For the next hour, Yuta went through the motions of coaching them. He corrected Yuji’s stance and helped Megumi refine the flow of energy into his shadows. He was helpful, as he always was, but there was an edge to his movements. He was shorter with his explanations, and every time his phone buzzed in his pocket with a text from Yumi—likely something teasing—his jaw tightened.

"Okay, okay," Yuji said, holding up his hands after Yuta gave a particularly sharp critique of his footwork. "Man, Yuta, you’re really intense today. Are we working too slow for you?"

"No, Yuji. You're doing fine," Yuta said, though he checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes.

Megumi leaned against a wooden pillar, watching Yuta with a calculating gaze. "Is Yumi okay?" he asked suddenly.

Yuta blinked, caught off guard. "What? Yeah, she’s fine. Why?"

"Just wondering," Megumi said, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wasn't as oblivious as Yuji. He had seen Yumi heading toward the vending machines earlier, looking particularly smug and cheerful, while Yuta now looked like a man who had been denied water in a desert. "You seem like you’re in a hurry to be somewhere else."

"I just have things to finish," Yuta muttered, turning away to pick up a training sword.

Yuji, finally catching a hint of the atmosphere, looked between Megumi and Yuta. "Oh! Did we interrupt something? Were you guys watching a movie or something?"

Yuta felt the heat creep up the back of his neck. "Something like that."

"Man, I'm sorry!" Yuji said, sounding genuinely guilty. "We can finish this tomorrow! I didn't mean to cock block your movie night!"

The use of the term made Megumi snort and Yuta cough into his hand.

"It's fine, Yuji," Yuta said, his voice strained. "Let's just finish this set and then I’m heading back."

As Yuta watched the two younger sorcerers return to their drills, he felt a strange mix of affection and frustration. He loved his friends, and he took his role as their senior seriously, but as he felt the lingering phantom sensation of Yumi’s lips on his skin, he decided that next time, he was definitely turning his phone on silent.

Maybe even throwing it out the window.