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

152 ~ Hundred And Fifty-Two

[S]hoko had found the whole situation mildly amusing, if not downright hilarious.

It wasn't every day Gojo Satoru stormed into her lab, mid-conversation with Utahime, looking like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

He'd stood there, finger raised as if trying to articulate something critical, only to disappear and then reappear moments later, a large box clutched in his hand.

She didn't need to ask. She already knew. The moment her eyes landed on that box, she knew what was coming.

"Shoko." His tone was sharp, annoyed even. "What the hell have you been teaching Y/N?"

This—this was pure gold. Gojo had his moments, but seeing him this riled up? It was comedy gold. Utahime had looked utterly lost, her brows furrowing in confusion as Gojo unceremoniously dumped the box onto the table, huffing like a brat.

"Why in the world are you sending Y/N these?" He'd practically spat the words out, pointing at the box like it contained something foul. "Sex toys? Really?"

Now, Shoko had never given Gojo any reason to think she was into girls, least of all his girl. But hearing you say those toys were from her had clearly rattled him. He didn't like it. Not one bit. And honestly? That was the funniest part of it all. Gojo Satoru, the man who could bend reality, was jealous. Over you. And Shoko had seen it written all over his face—this possessiveness, this insecurity he couldn't quite stomach.

Shoko had raised an eyebrow, completely nonchalant. "I can explain." Her tone was dry, as though she wasn't the least bit surprised.

Meanwhile, Utahime had blinked between the two, utterly lost. "Wait—what? What's going on?"

Gojo had shot her a look, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stay out of this, Utahime. This is between me and her." He'd turned back to Shoko, arms crossed, his frown deepening. "You better have a damn good reason for this."

The brunette had sighed dramatically, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Look, it's not what you think—"

But Gojo wasn't having it. "Then what is it, Shoko? Because from where I stand, it looks like you're messing with her—and me."

Utahime, ever the peacemaker, had tried again. "Gojo, it's probably just a joke—"

But the Strongest had cut her off, eyes narrowing. "No, this isn't just a joke, Utahime."

Shoko had exchanged a quick glance with Utahime, the subtle exasperation clear between them. They both knew Gojo could be overly dramatic, but this? This had been something else.

And that's how they'd found themselves in the library of all places—Gojo, Shoko, and even Utahime—pouring over scrolls and ancient texts, researching cursed tools, side effects, and potential fixes for whatever was going on with you.

Gojo, clearly still brooding, wasn't letting it go anytime soon.

By the time morning crept in, Shoko was exhausted. The kind of bone-deep tired she hadn't felt since her med school days, her mind running on nothing but caffeine and stubbornness.

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. "You know, you could just let her have some fun," she muttered, exhausted. It wasn't like this was life-threatening. It was a little odd, sure, but nothing worth all this fuss.

Gojo didn't bother looking up from the ancient scroll he was reading, his eyes scanning the text with unsettling focus. The sharp twitch of his jaw, however, betrayed his calm exterior. He could pretend to ignore them, but Shoko's comment had hit a nerve.

Because to him, it wasn't just about the toys. Letting you rely on them instead of him? That felt like a blow to his ego. Like walking around Jujutsu High with a neon sign that read: Not good enough in bed, so she turned to sex toys. And that? He couldn't stomach it.

As the thought lingered, Utahime leaned in closer, peering over Gojo's shoulder. "What are you even looking at?" she asked, her warm breath brushing against his ear and the side of his cheek.

It was an innocent move, but it sent Gojo's mind spiraling straight into thoughts of you. How your breath had teased his lips just last night. How you walked around in that outfit, confident and completely indifferent to his presence, like he barely existed. The heat of it all—your confidence, your control—it had him distracted.

Before Utahime could get a good look, Gojo's reaction was immediate, instinctive. He kicked the ground, sending his chair sliding back abruptly, the proximity clearly setting off some inner alarm.

Utahime raised an eyebrow, her patience clearly thinning. "What the hell was that?" she asked, tone sharp, eyes narrowing at the absurdity of his behavior.

Gojo shrugged, a smug grin spreading across his face. "What? Can't have you getting the wrong idea, Y/N's got enough to hold over me already."

As if on cue, you stepped into the library, catching the tail end of their conversation. Shoko let out an audible sigh, pressing her face deeper into the book she'd been reading all night. "Y/N ignoring both of you? Can't say I'm surprised."

You walked past them without a glance, heading straight for the shelves, eyes methodically scanning the spines. You had no time for their antics, especially Gojo's. He'd taken enough of your energy as it was. Right now, you needed information, not distractions.

The moment you entered, Gojo knew. He'd seen your cursed energy thread long before you appeared, but now, his attention was locked on you. Shoko's dry comment was lost on him.

He watched as you scanned through an old tome in the relics section, a small frown creasing your brow. You looked hot.

Amused, but with a hint of hesitation, he made his move. "What're you up to?"

His tone was casual, but there was an underlying attempt at connection—like he was trying to close the growing distance between you.

Without looking up, you continued flipping through the pages. There was no time for him. Not now. Your mind was on the Noh mask, searching for anything in these cursed texts that referenced its ability to attract or seal curses. You needed answers, not Gojo's incessant presence.

"I could help, you know," he offered, stepping closer, his cursed energy swirling around you like a blanket. Not the oppressive force it often was, but something more... comforting. Familiar. Like sinking into warmth after a long, draining day.

Still, you didn't look up. "Quiet would help more. So, do me a favor and stop talking."

There was no venom in your voice, just a quiet demand for silence. His energy wasn't provoking you today. It simply lingered, not seductive or overwhelming—just there, like a familiar presence hovering close.

For a moment, Gojo stayed quiet, observing you with a flicker of something deeper in his usually playful gaze. Then, leaning against the bookshelf, he conceded. "Fine. I'll be quiet."

You skimmed through another book, flipping the pages but still finding nothing of use. A sigh escaped you as you closed the volume, tapping its spine against your forehead. And, of course, you could feel his blue eyes on you—burning into you. Gojo had been doing that a lot lately. Taking off his blindfold whenever you were around. It was almost like he knew how much you liked seeing his eyes.

Switching to another book on cursed tools, you finally found something promising—a section on sealing curses into objects. Now, this was useful. Your thoughts raced as you considered the possibilities when, suddenly, you felt warm arms wrap around you from behind. His nose nuzzled into your hair, and for a moment, it felt like he was breathing you in.

Your first instinct was to glance toward Utahime and Shoko, but thankfully, they either didn't notice or didn't care.

You sighed, a subtle cocky smirk sliding onto your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "What do you think you're doing, Satoru?"

"Just hugging you. What else?"

"Why?"

Silence. Typical. He never was one to explain himself. Vulnerability wasn't his strong suit. And while his embrace wasn't unwelcome, you began to disentangle yourself, knowing that if you didn't, neither of you would get anything productive done.

"Let go," you commanded, your voice calm but firm, the smirk still in place. "I'd appreciate it if you respected my space."

Before you could finish, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your cheek, his arms tightening around you as if he feared you'd slip away for good. You felt the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against your back. That told you everything you needed to know—but now wasn't the time. He still hadn't taken responsibility for what he'd done. There were too many unanswered questions between you.

You loved him, sure, but that wasn't enough. Not when he kept taking you for granted. Not when he wasn't willing to be honest. The distance you were putting between you two wasn't just for show—it was necessary. Because as much as you wanted him, he wasn't what you needed right now. Not with the way things were.

"I said," you repeated, rubbing the bridge of your nose, exhaustion settling in. You weren't in the mood for games. "Let go, Satoru."

This time, there was a subtle edge to your voice, and he let go, a mock pout tugging at his lips. He looked like a child who'd just had his favorite toy taken away.

"Why do you keep being so cold to me?" he whined, his usual confidence faltering as his gaze dropped, the barest hint of a frown creasing his forehead.

He was cute. Too damn cute for his own good. You almost laughed. How could someone like him—so powerful, so untouchable—look so... vulnerable?

A smirk tugged at your lips as you glanced at him, unbothered. "Figure it out yourself."

"I know you're mad because—"

You cut him off, walking past him without a second glance, your focus shifting immediately toward Shoko and Utahime. His excuses didn't matter anymore. What you needed was a decision—clear, direct, and honest.

No more games, no more half-truths. What did he really want? Because you weren't about to waste any more time waiting for him to figure it out.