Bound In Love's Curse [Gojo Satoru x Female Readers]

133 ~ Hundred And Thirty-Three

[T]his wasn't at all how the strongest sorcerer had planned things.

Sure, you weren't avoiding him anymore, but even with his Six Eyes, he could barely scratch the surface of whatever was going on in that head of yours.

So when Gojo Satoru casually teleported into Nanami's office without a knock, a smug grin already in place, he was probably ready for one of Nanami's signature deadpan remarks or maybe a quick lecture. What he didn't expect to find... was you.

You stood by the window, bathed in the soft, late-afternoon light that cast the room in an almost intimate glow. The fitted outfit you wore—a pair of sleek black heels, slim trousers, and a black blouse tucked with exact precision—only amplified your quiet elegance. Everything about you was poised, meticulously put together. But beneath that composed exterior, there was a subtle, darker air, like a quiet storm on the verge of breaking.

His eyes lingered a little too long, but you didn't acknowledge his presence right away. Instead, you turned, slowly, your gaze meeting his with that familiar, calm intensity. The type of look that could bring a lesser man to his knees. But Gojo? He wasn't just any man.

"Oh," you murmured, your voice as smooth as silk, a touch of surprise feigning at the corners of your lips. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Didn't think I needed to announce myself," he teased, but there was a subtle hitch in his voice, as if something in him had paused, hesitating under your gaze. His smile faltered, ever so slightly.

You tilted your head just enough to let a lock of hair fall gracefully over your shoulder, your aura slowly unfurling around you like a dark tendril, but with an edge of restraint. It was shy—subtle, almost timid—but undeniably present, lapping at the edges of the space between you both.

It wasn't the overwhelming power Gojo was used to from sorcerers. No, it was quieter, more dangerous because it felt... personal.

"What brings you here?" you asked, your voice lower now, intimate, like a whisper shared between two conspirators.

He shrugged, his usual playful smirk firmly in place, but you saw the flicker of something else beneath it. He was intrigued. "Was just dropping in to talk about your next test with Nanami." His eyes slid over you again, this time with a hint of something deeper—something primal. "But... it looks like I found something more interesting."

You didn't flinch under his gaze. Instead, you met his eyes, and though you couldn't see through the blindfold, you knew he could feel it. That pull. The subtle way your leaking cursed energy danced just beyond reach, like you were playing a game he wasn't entirely sure of the rules for.

"So, the test..." he began, taking a step closer, his usual confidence faltering as he crossed the threshold of your energy. He was the strongest sorcerer, sure, but there was something in the air between you now—something that made even him slow down. "Are you sure about this whole sorcerer thing?"

You blinked at him, a knowing smile curling the edges of your lips as you turned back to the window, leaving him hanging in that moment of quiet tension. "And what would you suggest I do instead?" you asked, your voice dipping into something sultrier, but still controlled. The kind of tone that sent shivers down anyone's spine. "Give up the test?"

He chuckled, his laugh a little too casual, as if trying to shrug off the weight of the moment. "You could always work for me," he suggested, leaning back against Nanami's desk, arms folded as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "How about this—you work for me. Personal assistant," his voice dipped lower, laced with that playful arrogance, yet there was an edge of challenge beneath it, daring you to take the bait.

You turned to face him fully now, your expression neutral but your eyes saying everything.

Slowly, you walked closer, each step calculated, the click of your heels on the floor reverberating through the room. Gojo's posture stiffened slightly, his grin faltering, just for a moment, as you closed the distance.

"Your personal assistant?" you echoed, tilting your head, your voice smooth and dangerously soft. "Is that what you see me as?"

The strongest tried to play it off, flashing you one of his signature grins. "Well, you'd look good in my office, that's for sure." He was teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness to his words that you couldn't ignore.

You stopped just short of him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body but not close enough to touch. Your cursed energy, the faint tendrils that leaked past your carefully placed blockers, brushed against his, shy yet deliberate, like you were testing the waters.

You caught it immediately—the slight hitch in his breath, the way his playful mask slipped for just a second, revealing the raw interest beneath. He wasn't hiding it well. Not from you.

"You think I'd settle for that?" you whispered, your voice low and smooth, laced with a teasing edge as your gaze locked onto his, sharp and unwavering.

Gojo's smirk faltered, his bright cerulean eyes—visible just beneath the edge of his blindfold—darkening with something more primal. His grin faded, replaced by something else—something more focused.

The air between you thickened, a tension he didn't expect. Sexual, yes, but laced with something more dangerous, something he wasn't entirely sure how to control. You had him right there, and he knew it.

Gojo swallowed, the silence between you thickening, his usual swagger momentarily lost. He could smell your perfume, feel the weight of your subtle cursed energy pressing lightly against his skin, enough to make his pulse quicken.

The playful quips that always sat on the tip of his tongue vanished. For once, Gojo Satoru—king of comebacks, unshakable, untouchable—was speechless.

"How predictable," you murmured with a quiet smirk, taking a step back, the tension cooling but not breaking entirely. The moment lingered, unresolved.

You casually picked up the glass of water from Nanami's desk, your movements slow, deliberate. Tilting your head slightly as you took a sip, you never broke eye contact, watching the subtle twitch of his brow as his blindfolded eyes followed the path of a small water droplet trailing the side of your lips, down your neck. His lips parted, and for a moment, he looked almost mesmerized, like you'd cast some kind of spell on him.

And you had. He just didn't know how to undo it.

Deliberately, you licked your lips, the faintest trace of a smirk pulling at the corners as you leaned forward just enough to set the glass back down, your movements calculated, like a predator playing with its prey. His breath hitched again, and you could feel the way his cursed energy momentarily faltered, betraying his cool exterior.

"Boring." You murmured, your voice soft, dripping with mock disinterest as you pulled away completely, robbing him of whatever tension had been building between you. The jab was subtle but precise, like a dagger slipped between the ribs, leaving him hanging just shy of whatever unspoken promise was in the air.

The strongest stood there, frozen for a moment, his gaze never leaving you as you turned to walk toward the door.

His blindfolded eyes, sharp and analytical, followed every movement—the subtle sway of your hips, the way your cursed energy, or whatever it was, lingered in the air like a haze, clinging to him. It was the kind of presence that seeped into his skin, making it impossible to shake off.

He should've said something—made a joke, a snide remark—but his usual banter was stuck in his throat. It wasn't just that he was caught off guard by your dark, simmering aura, but the fact that you seemed completely in control of it. Of him.

Just before you stepped out, you heard his voice again, low and uncharacteristically measured. "Do you really think being a sorcerer suits you?" His words were light, but there was something underneath them, a weight that hinted at something more than just teasing. "There are... other ways you could make yourself useful."

You paused, letting the words sink into the room, your back still turned to him. The air shifted, the tension no longer playful but teetering on something more dangerous. It wasn't just a suggestion—there was something possessive in the way he said it, as if he had a plan for you that didn't involve risk, or maybe didn't involve you leaving his side at all.

A slow smirk tugged at your lips, but it was darker now, touched with a hint of mischief. Without turning, you replied, "What's the matter, Satoru? Feeling threatened that you can't pull my strings anymore?"

You finally turned, catching his gaze over your shoulder. His grin didn't falter, but his now uncovered eyes—those usually unreadable, bright eyes—narrowed slightly, a flicker of something serious cutting through the mask.

Gojo didn't like losing control, and you could feel it, the way his cursed energy subtly shifted, faint but deliberate, as if testing your limits.

He leaned against the desk, arms crossed, casual as ever, though you could sense something else lurking beneath his relaxed posture. "Nah," he drawled, his lips curving into that familiar, cocky grin. "I just think you'd be better off somewhere less... chaotic." His voice was light, but the flicker in his eyes gave him away. There was something deeper buried in his words.

You tilted your head, your voice low and laced with challenge. "Less chaotic? With you?"

His eyes never wavered from yours, sharp and assessing. "I know you mentioned... not feeling safe anymore," Gojo's tone stayed casual, but it carried something unspoken, something he wasn't used to admitting. "But—" he let the words hang there, unfinished, almost like he was testing the waters himself, trying to find the right way to say what he really meant.

You felt it then—the restraint, the way he was keeping things playful on the surface, but just beneath, there was something raw, something darker. Gojo Satoru wasn't good at hiding when it came to you. Not anymore.

You took a deliberate step closer, your cursed energy slipping past the blockers, brushing lightly against his. It was subtle, almost tentative, but deliberate, like you were seeing how far you could push him. "And if I don't want safe?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, sharp with challenge.

For a moment, his usual arrogance slipped, replaced by something else—a flicker of hunger, primal and unguarded. His eyes darkened as he took two long strides to close the distance between you, leaning in just enough so that you could feel the heat of him.

His grin shifted, more dangerous now, more serious. "You sure about that? 'Cause with me... it'll never be boring."

The tension snapped tight between you, like a live wire, the air thick with the weight of things left unsaid. You stared him down, unblinking, the electricity between you almost suffocating. For once, Gojo wasn't playing his usual game. He was waiting, watching, his energy coiling just beneath the surface.

But you weren't about to give him what he wanted. Not yet.

You leaned in, close enough for your breath to ghost over his skin, just enough to feel his cursed energy respond, stirring, reaching out instinctively. His grin faltered for just a heartbeat as you whispered, "Maybe... but you still don't get to decide for me."

And before he could react, you stepped back, letting the tension cool just as quickly as it had built, leaving behind a cold emptiness in the space between you. Gojo's cursed energy flared, as if trying to hold on to you, but you were already moving, your heels clicking softly as you made your way out the door.