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

159 ~ Hundred And Fifty-Nine

[Y]ou were put on standby again. Nanami had delivered the news this morning when you dropped by his office for your 'personal assistant' duties. Yes, you were still an assistant, waiting to be promoted to a sorcerer—something to do with the Higher-ups' involvement. Their words, not yours.

But deep down, you knew your lack of promotion had less to do with the Higher-ups and everything to do with a certain strongest, white-haired sorcerer. Although you weren't sure why Gojo Satoru was obstructing your path after you'd already proven yourself, you had an inkling for why you were on standby.

There were two very good reasons for this. First, the side effects of your blockers. Probably jealousy, knowing Gojo, not wanting you around another man during missions when those little 'complications' arose. Second, it had to do with a little revenge. Last night, you had left him with unresolved... needs. Petty, as always.

The thought pulled a smirk across your lips. Typical Gojo.

Still, boredom crept in quickly without a mission to distract you. And as if on cue, a knock echoed through Nanami's office.

"Come in," you muttered lazily, leaning back in your seat.

The door opened to reveal Shoko's familiar silhouette, followed by Utahime, who you hadn't spoken to much since the rooftop incident. They both settled on the couch across from you, dropping plastic bags filled with takeout and sweets on the coffee table.

A cocky smirk tugged at your lips. You knew who was behind this. The kikufukus from Kikusuian were a dead giveaway. No one would go to the trouble of getting those unless they could teleport to Sendai—or boss Ijichi around like a personal servant.

"Gojo sent you, didn't he?" you asked, amused.

Shoko blinked, then let out a dry laugh. "Sharp as ever."

Utahime, always a little less patient with Gojo's antics, shook her head. "You two are ridiculous. It's like he knows what you want before you even say it."

You leaned forward, lips curving into a knowing smile. "He does everything except what really matters."

And you weren't wrong—Gojo Satoru would never admit he was wrong. Owning up to his mistakes wasn't in his nature, not when he could charm his way out of anything with a grin and a quip.

Accountability? It seemed like a foreign concept to him. He'd rather bend the world around him than face the consequences of his actions. Expecting him to take responsibility and start fresh? You knew better than to hold your breath. That kind of humility required vulnerability, and vulnerability was something Gojo kept buried beneath layers of confidence and deflection.

Utahime scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You're telling me. The man's ego is too big for apologies."

Shoko lit a cigarette, her gaze flicking between you and Utahime. "He's not going to change, you know. Not unless you force his hand."

You picked up one of the kikufukus from the bag, unwrapping it with deliberate care before taking a slow bite, letting the sweetness linger on your tongue. "Oh, I'm aware. But I'm not here to play his game."

Shoko exhaled a plume of smoke, her tone more amused than concerned. "And yet, you still entertain it."

"Only when it suits me," you replied coolly, brushing crumbs off your fingers. "The rest? It's just noise."

It was always like this with Gojo—grand gestures, small gifts, subtle manipulations, but never what you truly wanted. Never the words you needed to hear. Because why would he? That would require him to set aside his pride, and Gojo Satoru never did that. Not for anyone. And probably not even you.

Utahime began unpacking the food, a quiet hum of concentration in the air as she placed boxes of takeout on the table, then poured drinks into paper cups with focused movements. Meanwhile, Shoko leaned back in her seat, lighting another cigarette with her usual nonchalance. But her eyes were on you, a question clearly brewing in her mind. It didn't take long before she spoke.

"So? How did you deal with your... little predicament?"

Her words hung in the air like smoke, and you knew exactly what she was referring to. The side effects of your blockers—how they left you overly stimulated after a mission, wound up and unable to think straight. There was no point in pretending she didn't know. Shoko was too sharp for that, and she rarely held back when it came to blunt conversations, especially about things most people would tiptoe around.

"You let him fuck you?" she asked without so much as a blink, her tone clinical, like she was asking about the weather. That was Shoko—no filters, especially when it came to matters of the body.

You didn't flinch, though. Instead, you leaned forward, casually grabbing a cup from the table. The sweetness of the kikufuku left your mouth dry, and you were feeling thirsty. "No. I left him hanging. Got what I needed, then walked out."

"You did what?" Utahime's voice hitched with surprise, her hands pausing mid-motion as she poured another drink. Her reaction wasn't a surprise. The idea of anyone standing Gojo up, especially when it came to something as intimate as sex, seemed almost impossible to her. "You're pretty mean, Y/N," she remarked, her tone casual but laced with hints of disbelief.

A chuckle bubbled from your lips as you tipped the cup back, swallowing the liquid in one go. But as the sharp burn hit your throat, you nearly choked. "What the hell was that?"

Shoko grinned mischievously, taking another drag from her cigarette. "Oh. Forgot to tell you—it's alcohol."

Your eyes narrowed at her, but the fire in your throat soon subsided, and a strange sense of warmth began to settle in. You didn't usually indulge in alcohol—preferring to keep a clear head and stay in control—but today felt different. After a few minutes, you felt something loosen inside you, like a knot coming undone. Relaxation seeped into your muscles, and you found yourself feeling... lighter.

Still smirking, you pointed the cup at Utahime, silently urging her to refill it, before leaning across the table to snag a piece of takoyaki. "Pour me another," you muttered, almost to yourself, the tension you'd been carrying with you all day beginning to melt away.

Utahime complied, filling your cup with another splash of whatever it was Shoko had brought along. She arched an eyebrow at you, eyes sparkling with amusement. "So, you didn't let Gojo have his way? That's impressive. I thought no one said no to him."

You smirked, popping the takoyaki into your mouth. "I'm not everyone. Gojo gets what he wants when I decide. Not the other way around."

Shoko watched you with a calculating gaze. "He must be losing his mind."

You shrugged, almost nonchalantly. "Let him. He'll learn the hard way that I'm not here to cater to his ego."

The alcohol was kicking in now, softening your edges but sharpening your words. It felt good to relax for once, to let go of the tension Gojo had tied you up in.

***

When Gojo and Nanami walked into the office that evening, the scene was far from what either of them expected.

For one, how were all three of you drunk? And with Shoko nearby, how was the room this... not a total disaster?