My all ~~
Synopsis: Satoru Gojo had been in love with you since your high school days. However, back then, you were his best friend’s girlfriend. Ever since, he has been trying to hide his feelings. Will he manage to keep it that way until the end?
Content: fem! reader, kinda slow burn, friends to lovers?, light smut.
Word count: 4k
A/N: I have to make it up to my dear Geto, so a fic about him is coming soon. Hopefully something happy this time—since this one was a rollercoaster…
The nights at Jujutsu High were never completely silent. Even when night fully fell, you could still hear the rustling of leaves the wind couldn’t quite carry away, the occasional quiet laughter drifting from the students’ rooms on summer nights like this one, when nothing in particular was happening (with less negative energy, there were fewer curses)… The scent of rain lingered in the air. It hadn’t started falling yet. But it was there—you could feel it in the heaviness of the atmosphere, in the way your skin tingled faintly.
You sat on the edge of your window, your feet resting against the cold frame, knees pulled to your chest, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the wooden edge. This had already become your ritual. Sitting in that in-between—not quite darkness, not quite silence—with your thoughts and a cigarette between your lips—a bad habit you had picked up from Shoko. But your thoughts were restless. The Sister-School Goodwill Event was only a few days away, and although the summer season meant fewer curses, the increase in special-grade ones unsettled you. You found yourself wondering what the next move would be, whether the students would be capable enough to rise to the challenge, what you could do… what Suguru—your Suguru—would have done if he were here.
You quickly lit another cigarette, letting your head fall back slightly as you held back tears. Suguru. A name no one spoke aloud at Jujutsu High, yet one that lived in every part of you you couldn’t shut off.
Once, it had been easy. There was that way he saw the world: as something that needed to be changed, but not necessarily broken. And then everything changed. Not suddenly, not overnight. But slowly, almost imperceptibly—like a crack in glass spreading until it could no longer be ignored. Day by day, watching the dark circles under his eyes, the weight he kept losing, the way his emotions toward everything, and even toward you, began to fade, you felt losing him irreversibly. So, when he left, you didn’t stop him. Maybe because you couldn’t. Maybe because you didn’t know how. Or maybe, and that was the hardest thought of all, because somewhere deep inside, you knew he no longer belonged to the same world as you.
You took another drag, longer this time, letting the nicotine burn slowly in your lungs.
“You know, one day you’re going to fall from there!” The voice behind you light, almost playful as always, cut through your thoughts like a blade. Of course he didn’t knock, you thought to yourself. You didn’t flinch, nor did you turn around right away. You allowed yourself one more moment of silence before exhaling the smoke, quickly putting out the cigarette against the window frame beside you.
You turned your body toward the room, lowering your legs onto the wooden floor, your gaze vaguely fixed on a spot on it.
“That would be an interesting way to die,” you said, your voice flat, devoid of any particular emotion. “Maybe it would be… what was that phrase your new student uses? A proper way to die?”
Only then did you look at him.
Satoru Gojo was leaning against the doorway, as if he belonged in that space more than anyone else. Hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but always ready. This time, he wore sunglasses instead of his blindfold, his hair freshly washed. A short-sleeved shirt and black jeans.
You couldn’t stop looking at him. His presence was… hard to ignore. It always had been.
“Too dramatic, even for you,” he added, tilting his head slightly. “Especially in that dress you’re wearing…” The last part he said more quietly, with a hint of something heavier beneath it.
“Only the famous Gojo Satoru could turn a simple fall from a window into a dramatic story,” you said, reaching over to the table beside the window to grab a fresh pack of cigarettes, some gum, and your phone with a quiet sigh. “I suppose you’d turn that kind of death into a story.”
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, a wide grin spreading across his face. “I’m the main character.”
The faint twitch at the corner of your lips was barely noticeable—but enough. Enough for him to catch it. And of course he did. He always noticed things others didn’t.
You kept watching him from your side of the room as he waved his hands dramatically, going on and on about how the elders would cry tears of joy that he had survived when your room had magically been struck by an earthquake, and how he would be the only survivor because, obviously, he wasn’t as weak as you, and how Megumi would finally be grateful to breathe the same air as him, and how angels would sing from the heavens…
There had always been something between you that you couldn’t quite define. Even when Suguru was alive. It wasn’t simple friendship, but it wasn’t something you could clearly call more, either. It was just… tense. You weren’t sure if you liked it or if it scared you. Maybe both.
You caught yourself looking out the window again before shifting your gaze back to him. Now that he had finished his self-glorifying monologue, he was watching you quietly.
“Everyone’s downstairs,” he said after a brief pause, nodding toward the hallway. “We’re all waiting for you.”
“I know.” You started walking toward him with steady steps.
“You really want to annoy Principal Yaga.”
“As you can see.” You paused at the other side of the room to grab your purse.
You felt him before you saw him—that distinct energy he carried with him, as if the space itself reacted to his presence. He smelled like mint, something fresh, and… cologne? When you glanced up toward his eyes, they caught you off guard. His sunglasses had slipped down to the tip of his nose, and he was looking at you over them.
How was it possible for a human being to have a feature like that… to be that beautiful…
“Planning to have a good time?” he murmured now. You held his gaze longer than you should have.
“Don’t analyze me,” you replied simply.
“Too late for that.” There was no teasing in his voice. That unsettled you more than if there had been.
“Come on.” With slow movements, he stepped away from you and started toward the door. “We’re already very late.”
As you followed him, you frowned slightly. “Kind of strange for Shoko to organize a team-building thing this late. I thought she preferred expensive dinners…”
He turned around quickly, that wide, boyish grin still the same as when you were students. Your heart skipped.
“That’s because I organized it this time!”
*
You paused for a moment at the bar, a thousand thoughts running through your head. Well, first, you knew this wasn’t a good idea from the moment you heard Satoru was the one organizing it. Second, everything felt… strange. Nothing here was natural. Not the laughter. Not the music. Not even the fact that people who faced death and curses every day were now pretending to be… ordinary.
You noticed several familiar jujutsu sorcerers dancing to fast music, their bodies loose, relaxed. Some even had their eyes closed—like Yuki, swaying seductively with two guys whose names you didn’t know. Principal Yaga sat in a high booth with Utahime, laughing loudly at something she had said, while in the dim light he stitched together a new puppet.
And then—Satoru drew all your attention. He stood in the middle of the dance floor, looking through his sunglasses at a girl who was saying something to him. One of his arms rested around her waist, his attention fully on her. Jealousy brushed against the back of your neck.
“It’s not polite to be late every time, you know.” The voice beside you was calm, steady, almost predictable. Kento Nanami stood right next to you, as if he had stepped out of the shadows. His presence was always different from the others. It was hard to believe Satoru was older than him. But here you were.
As you lit a cigarette, you slowly took him in. His shirt was neatly buttoned almost to the top, his tie slightly loosened—the only concession to the evening. His sleeves were rolled up but there was no carelessness in his appearance. As if even relaxation couldn’t disrupt his discipline.
You felt yourself drifting closer to him. You needed your thoughts to wander—even if just for a moment. Just for one night.
“Maybe everyone else just gets early every time,” you replied, looking at him through your lashes.
“You’re not dancing, but you don’t look bored either,” he said after a few moments.
“I never do.”
“True.”
His gaze lingered on you—somehow heavy. Not evaluating. Not judging. Just… observing.
He smiled slightly. That was his kind of humor. Dry. Precise. Rarely directed at anyone. Without noticing, you relaxed a little more. A smile played on your lips as you listened to him talk about some minor detail from work, stepping a few centimeters closer. For a moment, without even realizing, you almost looked… ordinary.
But someone else noticed.
Across the room, Satoru Gojo stood with a glass in his hand, but he wasn’t truly part of any conversation. People approached him, yes he spoke, of course, he laughed. But none of it was real. His attention was directed—no, fixed—on you. The way you were looking at Nanami for too long. The way your hand rested casually on the table beside his. He noticed you weren’t using your technique around Nanami tonight, and he wasn’t sure why but it bothered him. Deeply. Something in his chest tightened. Sharp, unpleasant, and yet familiar. He took another drink.
Alcohol had never suited him. It dulled his control over cursed energy, gave him headaches, made him feel weaker than usual. But tonight, it didn’t matter. Tonight, he was searching for something he couldn’t quite name.
*
The night slipped by far too quickly. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until your attention was pulled away from Nanami’s composed expression by a sudden burst of noise.
Satoru, along with some guy in a hoodie whose name you couldn’t quite remember, downed three glasses in a row. You glanced down at your pack of cigarettes, carefully pulling out the last one.
“He’s overdoing it,” you muttered. Your voice was quiet, almost lost in the music—but not to Nanami.
“Yes,” he replied simply, without even looking in Satoru’s direction. He didn’t need to. He noticed things in his own way, too.
“Why?” you asked, more to yourself, your gaze fixed on the white-haired man, around whom a pretty brunette was still lingering, laughing at something he whispered in her ear. Suddenly, as if he felt it, he looked straight at you—then, with a half-smile, returned his attention to the brunette.
Nanami paused, as if weighing his words before speaking.
“I wouldn’t speculate without enough information.” You smiled faintly, now looking at him.
“That means you know, but won’t say.”
“That means it’s not my business.” He looked at you directly. “Not yet.”
Those two words lingered in the air. You didn’t get the chance to respond.
“Having fun?” The voice behind you was close enough to make your skin prickle. You turned. Satoru. Too fast. Too close. Much closer than necessary.
“Trying,” you said. His gaze slid toward Nanami. His hand slipped around your waist as he leaned closer to your ear.
“Honestly, how could anyone resist you in that damn dress? You look good,” he said in a normal tone, though it sounded like a whisper over the loud music. “I can only assume dear Nanami’s been hard all night.”
“Satoru,” you hissed, frowning at him. “What is wrong with you tonight?”
“I’m just enjoying myself,” he shrugged. “Living each day like it’s my last and all that crap.”
He leaned over the bar to order another drink. You glanced at Nanami, who was watching you, confusion clearly written in his eyes. Then, without a word, he gestured toward the restroom with a slight motion of his finger. You nodded, watching as his figure slowly disappeared behind the double doors.
“I don’t like the way you look at him,” the boy you knew so well said beside you, draining his drink in one go.
“I don’t like how much you’re drinking.”
A sarcastic smile spread across his lips at your remark. He was still watching you over his sunglasses.
“Well, nobody’s perfect.” He stepped closer again, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Though tonight, looking like that… you’re pretty close.”
You felt something strange move through your body. Somehow, you were no longer a flat line, something old was stirring inside you. Something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in a long time.
“Satoru, what’s gotten into you today?” You could hear your heart pounding in your ears over the music.
“You are,” he said. His gaze lifted back to your eyes, hurt and confused at the same time, as if he didn’t quite understand it himself. “For twelve years now, you’ve been my only fucking problem.”
“Ahem.”
Nanami reappeared at your side, lightly touching your shoulder.
“Principal Yaga said we should all head back to campus. Panda called said he’s sensing something strange… better not take the risk.” His gaze shifted to Gojo. “I’ll drive us.”
“What a bunch of buzzkills,” Satoru muttered, now completely pulling his attention away from you. “The one time I organize a night worth going out, and it gets cut short.”
Throwing an arm around the hooded sorcerer, Satoru kept rambling about the amazing night that would continue as he slowly made his way out of the club.
Behind them, you and Nanami walked more slowly.
“Don’t even think about throwing up in my car,” Nanami grumbled as you all got inside his car.
“I’m not even drunk anymore,” Satoru said quietly from the back seat, staring out the window.
“Doesn’t matter.”
*
You and Satoru continued walking past the teachers’ rooms, heading toward your own, which were located at the far end of the hallway. Ever the gentleman, Nanami offered to walk you to your room at the very end, just a few doors down from Satoru’s, at which the white-haired boy visibly rolled his eyes. She’s not going to get dragged into a Domain out of nowhere, he protested a bit too loudly. You simply thanked Nanami for the offer and said you’d be fine. He nodded, wished you both good night, and stepped into his room the very first one at the start of the corridor.
The hallways lined with rooms were long, filled with false doors to maintain the safety of those living on campus, so your walk with Satoru stretched into a quiet three minutes. The tension between you grew with every step, and it unsettled you.
When you reached his room, you turned on your heel without even looking at the boy now standing in front of you.
“Satoru, I—”
Your voice was cut off when, in a swift motion, he grabbed your hand, opened the door, pulled you inside, and shut it behind you, pressing you against it, caging you in with his arms on either side. He looked at you through his glasses, his expression serious. For the first time that night—there was no mask in his demeanor. No playfulness, no easy tone. Just something… raw. For a moment, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself—but then you realized you weren’t afraid. And you probably should have been. A quiet laugh threatened to escape your throat. Yes, you had completely lost it.
“Did you think tonight was funny?” he spoke through his teeth, his breath against your face. “What kind of game are you trying to play?”
“Satoru,” you started quietly, but he cut you off again.
“Why Nanami?” In one sharp motion, almost startling you, he removed his glasses and looked straight into your eyes. “Why the hell Nanami?” This time, he said his name with clear disgust.
“Let me go.” The words came out softer than you intended.
He stepped back obediently, a few paces away, pushing himself lightly off the wall. But he didn’t stop looking at you. Moments passed. Your back was still pressed against the door. You could feel the cold wood through the thin fabric, and you were grateful for that small sense of reality. Even with it, though, everything felt like a kind of vacuum… a dream.
He stood a few steps away. His fingers clenched for a moment, then relaxed, as if trying to restrain an impulse he didn’t want to show. Without the glasses, without the blindfold, without any familiar distance his eyes were unbearably clear. And they were on you. All night—only on you.
You inhaled slower than usual, trying to calm a body that refused to listen.
“I’m not playing any game,” you said at last. Your heart pounded loudly, and you could feel the words sticking in your throat.
He didn’t move right away. Just watched you. As if trying to see beyond what you said, to find what you didn’t. Then he tilted his head slightly.
“It looked like a game. Like you’d take anyone’s attention,” he said in a low, even voice.
Is he really trying to call me a slut?
“If anyone was playing games tonight, it was you,” you replied, a bit firmer now, trying to regain control. “Nanami was just kind enough to help make the night more interesting.”
“Yeah, like that guy with a stick up his ass could entertain you properly,” he cut in, faster, sharper this time.
“What exactly are you trying to say?” The sarcasm in your voice surprised even you, as if some things were slipping out naturally.
He took a step toward you but stopped a few steps away.
“Nothing at all.”
“Then I suppose I should go.” You watched him carefully.
“I suppose so.”
“I suppose I will.” You felt anger beginning to simmer as you turned to open the door, then spoke again, “By the way, do you happen to have Nanami’s number?” A smile tugged at your lips. “That man is surprisingly sexy.”
“What did you just say?” His voice turned cold and firm. Suddenly, he grabbed your arm and turned you back toward him, your back once again hitting the door. Moonlight slipping through the window made his eyes glint strangely, even though his Infinity was down.
“Say that again. I dare you.” His free hand cupped your chin, lifting your face slightly, forcing your gaze to meet his.
“I—” your voice caught in your throat.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” He tilted his head, then lowered his voice, almost a whisper. “Just because I respected you doesn’t mean I’m an idiot, y/n.”
The way he looked at you…you couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or fuck you sensless, but either way, it lit something inside you.
“I said I want to—”
The words disappeared the moment he grabbed your neck, pulled you in, and crashed his lips against yours. He kissed you softly at first, and then with a swift graduation of intensity that made you cling to him as the only solid in the world. You kissed him back just as hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling hot all over.
“Honestly,” he breathed against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine, “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
All you could answer with was a soft moan. You felt his smile against your lips, and in the blink of an eye, faster than thought, you were on his bed, his body above yours, still not quite touching. There was that sweet sharpness of alcohol mixed with a hint of mint, creating an incredibly inviting aroma so good that it could practically be sold as candles. You let out a breath that you didn't even realise you had been holding. You whispered his name.
“I know I wasn’t your first choice,” he said quietly, brushing your hair from your face. His gaze never left you. “I didn’t even try to be… not while Geto was alive.” A grimace crossed his face, one he failed to hide…maybe he didn’t even realize how much pain showed. “When he died, I thought everything I felt would die with him—including what I feel for you. But it didn’t.” He exhaled softly, vulnerably. “So I gave you space… and it was easier to pretend you didn’t matter to me…”
He paused, then began pressing slow kisses along your collarbone. Your breath hitched as his tongue traced your neck, teeth grazing your earlobe.
“But tonight… I can’t pretend anymore.”
Your hands moved instinctively to his back, holding on—holding onto something. Anything. But in a quick motion, he caught both your wrists, pinned them above your head, pressing his body against yours. A gasp escaped your lips. One hand held both of yours while the other slid up your thigh, lifting your dress.
“And the thought that boring Nanami could get this reaction out of you…” he breathed against your neck, drawing another sound from you, “it drives me insane. You know that?”
“Satoru, you have to—”
He cut you off with a quick kiss.
“Shh… please,” he whispered against your lips. “ Don’t speak.”
Clothes disappeared piece by piece, movements urgent and unrestrained, until there was nothing left between you but skin and breath and the sound of your heart racing against his.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, eyes closed now, his forehead resting against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
You cupped his face gently, and he looked at you almost in surprise when he saw the faint smile on your lips. The side of his face was bathed in moonlight coming from his window, and suddenly the realisation had dawned on you - that he looked simply mesmerising tonight. To be completely honest, he always looked beautiful.
“Wow… who would’ve thought the great Satoru Gojo was a romantic?” you murmured, your voice soft. His gaze sharpened as it traced from your eyes to your lips and back again. “Don’t you dare stop...”
“Your wish is my command, my lady.”
Everything blurred after that—breath, movement, heat, the way your bodies found a rhythm that felt both overwhelming and inevitable. He never looked away from you, his eyes locked on yours, on your body, on every reaction. Every breath, every tremor, every whispered sound of his name he seemed to memorize it all.
At one point, he said something, lost among all the soft, incoherent words. but it only made you more sensitive to every touch, every slow movement of his hand across your skin.
Then suddenly, everything shifted. One moment, his hands were on your hips—then you were above him, the world flipping in an instant. It was too fast and too slow all at once, everything you wanted and everything you didn’t.
“I love you,” he whispered as you moved above him, one hand resting against your cheek.
Your thoughts dissolved as you held his gaze—unbreakable, intense.
“Idiot,” was all you managed before everything crashed over you, sudden and overwhelming. In the next moment, you were back on your back, his movements growing sharper before he followed, breath breaking, collapsing beside you and pulling you into him automatically.
For a few moments, neither of you spoke.
“I love you too,” you said quietly, brushing your face against his neck.
“I know,” he replied, amusement creeping back into his voice. “Doesn’t everyone?”