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

143 ~ Hundred And Forty-Three

[T]he air felt heavy, thick not just with tension but with everything unspoken between you and Gojo.

You hadn't even fully stepped out of the closet before you felt it—his cursed energy, brushing against your skin like static before his voice followed.

"Y/N."

The sound of your name lingered, hanging between concern and something darker—possessive, almost.

You leaned back against the closet door, trying to ignore the dull throb in your limbs, the blood that still dripped from your nose. Bruised, battered, but standing. You looked at him with half-lidded eyes, refusing to show the exhaustion weighing you down. Not to him.

"You've pushed past your limit again."

It wasn't a question. His voice carried that resigned tone, as if he'd already figured out the answer but wanted to hear you admit it. You snorted, pushing yourself off the door with a composed smirk, ignoring the ache that followed.

"Here to check if your little test broke me?"

His lips twitched into a smile, but it was all surface—his eyes stayed cold. "I knew you were strong," he mused, stepping closer, "but I didn't think you'd be this stubborn." His tone was light, teasing, but something beneath it flickered—something softer, more dangerous.

Truth be told, Gojo had been itching to meet with you ever since the flag bearer game had ended. He'd picked your opponents himself, knowing full well the challenge he was throwing your way. But watching you get roughed up by his students hadn't sat as well with him as he'd expected.

You raised an eyebrow, smirk still in place. "You say that, but you're the one who set me up to fail. Or did you forget?"

He blinked, caught off guard for just a second, before a low, humorless chuckle escaped him. He stepped closer, his cursed energy brushing against yours, teasing, testing your control. The air thickened between you, heavy with something unspoken, something electric.

"Touché," he muttered, his eyes lingering on your bruises, on the blood still dripping from your nose. "But you didn't fail." Another step, closing the distance between you, his voice softer now, the arrogance slipping. "You don't have to do everything alone; you know? I thought... you'd let me catch you this time."

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing. A smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned closer, just enough for him to catch the glint in your eyes. "And here I thought playing the victim was my role." The words came out smooth, wrapped in a subtle sarcasm, dark and layered, matching the energy that flowed between you—strong, untouchable.

He stiffened, the impact of your words barely hidden behind his neutral expression, but the tension in the air thickened. His jaw clenched briefly, his cursed energy rippling, brushing against you more intensely. But instead of retreating, his cursed energy softened again, pressing at the edges of your control, teasing, pulling at the invisible thread that tied you to him.

His eyes darkened as he stepped closer, gaze locked on yours. "You didn't go to Shoko after the game," he murmured, his voice now lower, more serious. "And seeing you like this... it's obvious you're hurt."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the door again, creating space between you that didn't really exist. "What, playing doctor now? You could've sent Shoko if you were that worried."

He didn't respond immediately. His hand reached out, fingers brushing your cheek before you could stop him. The touch was soft, almost reverent, but you flinched, a reflex you couldn't quite control.

His hand paused, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face, but this time he didn't pull back.

"Just let me," he whispered, the usual arrogance fading, leaving behind something raw, vulnerable. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, but you didn't say anything, didn't move, just kept your eyes locked on his.

He cupped your face gently, his thumb wiping away the blood from your nose, his touch lingering as if he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

"You had to go and win, didn't you?" His voice was soft, almost wistful, as if the idea of you succeeding had somehow broken something inside him. "I thought... I thought I could protect you. That you'd let me. But of course, you had to prove me wrong."

You could feel the frustration rolling off him, his cursed energy wrapping around you, warm and tingling against your skin in a way that made it hard to breathe. He was so close now, his body pressed against yours, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "Can't say I'm surprised, but I'd prefer if you didn't break yourself just to prove a point to me."