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

168 ~ Hundred And Sixty-Eight

[I]t was a Wednesday, just two more days until... well, that. You'd almost forgotten with how chaotic things had been lately. Almost.

But Shoko, ever the reminder of all things inconvenient, dropped by your 'workspace'—the one Gojo had personally set up for you. She mentioned something about the stress of party planning, and how, despite the chaos, she had things under control. Of course, there was one thing you'd conveniently pushed to the back of your mind: what on earth you were going to wear.

"What was the color theme again?" you smirked. Today had been slow, almost boring, and you were basking in it—a much-needed break from Gojo.

Thankfully, he was busy with his first years, which meant a rare few hours of peace. But, of course, Gojo being Gojo, he'd still found a way to leave his mark, his presence lingering like a shadow over your day.

"Black." Shoko casually flicked the ash from her cigarette, leaning back. "He insisted everything be black."

You didn't need her to explain further. Of course, Gojo had his fingerprints all over this. He knew you, probably more than you cared to admit, and choosing black as the theme? It wasn't just about aesthetics. This was him toying with you in his own subtle way, his idea of fun. The room setup alone was proof of that.

"Well, naturally," you muttered, your tone laced with sarcasm. Gojo was well aware that black defined you—your wardrobe, your vibe, maybe even your soul at this point. So, him making sure the party's theme matched you perfectly? A classic move. He always had something up his sleeve.

"Why even bother with a color scheme?" you mused, brow arched. "And what about the kids?"

Shoko inhaled deeply, exhaling smoke as she lazily responded. "It's an adults-only thing. There'll be alcohol, and you know how it goes."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "An adults-only party?"

Shoko flicked the ash from her cigarette into the tray and leaned back with that familiar, nonchalant ease she always carried. "Yeah, that's what I said."

You processed for a moment. No kids, a color scheme, alcohol. Something about it seemed off, even for Gojo, but then again, nothing about Gojo Satoru was ever straightforward. He thrived on unpredictability, and if there was a way to throw you off balance, he'd find it and run with it. The man had a gift for making chaos feel intentional.

"Is this some sort of weird prank or something?" Your tone remained calm, but the idea still felt absurd.

Shoko's lips curved into a half-smirk, her eyes glancing at you through a veil of cigarette smoke. "It's Gojo, Y/N. The whole thing's probably both a joke and serious at the same time."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Right. Makes sense."

Shoko stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray, her movements slow and deliberate, before turning her full attention toward you. "Speaking of which, you haven't picked anything out to wear yet, right?"

You leaned back into your seat, smirking. "Nope. And what, you're about to suggest we go shopping together? Some kind of bonding experience?"

Her response was a low, lazy chuckle. "Would've, but he beat me to it."

You blinked. She didn't have to say his name. There was only one person who'd go out of his way to orchestrate something like this without telling you: Gojo. He had already taken care of your outfit? Since when? How?

"Wait, wait—you're telling me Gojo picked out something for me?" You crossed your arms, more curious than annoyed, but there was still a prickling in your chest. "He's making decisions on what I'm wearing now?"

Shoko shrugged, unbothered by the weight of the statement. "Pretty much."

It should have irritated you—Gojo's constant need to insert himself into every facet of your life, controlling even the smallest details, like what you'd wear to his damn party. But instead, all you felt was a rising curiosity. What was he planning? Why did he care so much?

"And guess what? He sent me to deliver it." Shoko reached beside her and produced an elegant box wrapped in silk ribbons. The brand was one you recognized immediately, and it hit you—this wasn't just some casual gift.

You let out a breath, your eyes narrowing slightly. "I see why he didn't bring it himself. He figured I'd say no."

Shoko gave a short, amused nod, pointing at you like you'd solved a puzzle. "Smart."

You hesitated for a moment before pulling the box closer. The packaging was luxurious, excessive even, and somehow it fit the image of Gojo Satoru perfectly. But as you untied the ribbons and lifted the lid, your breath caught. The dress inside was stunning. Expensive. A designer brand you'd only seen in magazines, the kind of thing that had limited editions and custom fits.

"Gosh," you muttered, eyes widening slightly as you ran your fingers lightly over the fabric. "He really went all out, huh?"

"About the shoes," Shoko interjected casually, "Ijichi's dropping them off later this afternoon."

"Of course, there are shoes too." You shook your head, partly rattled, partly impressed. This level of planning—it was classic Gojo. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it wasn't just about impressing you. It was something more deliberate, something that made you uneasy.

"Look," Shoko started, crossing one leg over the other, "say what you want about his methods, but the guy's putting in the effort."

"Effort, huh? Feels more like manipulation."

The brunette snorted softly, the corners of her lips twitching into an ironic smile. "Maybe. But, if he wanted to just 'manipulate' you, we both know he wouldn't need to go this far. You're not exactly hard to please."

"So you're defending him now?"

"I'm not defending anyone. I'm just saying it's obvious he's trying. In his own Gojo way." Shoko's voice remained calm, but there was a weight to her words, a sense that she was observing more than you were willing to admit to yourself.

You sighed, setting the box aside. "So, what, I'm supposed to believe he's doing all this just because?"

Shoko studied you for a moment, her eyes sharper than her relaxed demeanor suggested. "I've known Satoru for years, and I've never seen him try this hard with anyone. Not like this."

Her words landed heavily, the truth of them sinking in despite yourself. You hated that it made sense. Gojo, for all his bravado and arrogance, was doing something out of character. He wasn't just playing around, and that unsettled you.

"You're saying he's not just trying to get in my pants again?" You leaned forward slightly, your voice quieter now, more uncertain.

Shoko's smirk returned, but there was no mockery in it this time. "If that's all he wanted, he could've had it by now. We both know that."

Your eyes met hers, searching for something in her expression, some kind of clarity. "Then what does he want?"

"Maybe he's trying to figure that out himself." Shoko's tone was softer now, less matter-of-fact. "But if you're waiting for him to spell it all out, to get all emotional and confess his undying love or whatever... don't hold your breath."

You sighed, a frustrated chuckle escaping your lips. "I don't need some grand confession. I just—" You trailed off, unsure of what exactly you wanted from Gojo.

Shoko exhaled a long breath before speaking, her tone level but direct. "Look, I get it. You've been through a lot. And yeah, maybe you had some expectations, but... how often have you laid your cards on the table?" She paused, giving you a moment to absorb it before continuing. "You're expecting him to get it, to read your mind, but that's not how it works. He's out there, fumbling around, trying to figure out what's okay and what's not. But he's clueless because you've never told him what's really going on in your head."

Her words hit you squarely in the chest. She wasn't being accusatory, just honest. And it stung because you knew she was right.

"I shouldn't have to spell it out for him, should I?"

Shoko's eyes softened. "No, you shouldn't. But sometimes people—especially people like Gojo—don't get it unless you do."

You let the silence linger between you both, the weight of the conversation settling into the room. Shoko didn't push further, didn't offer any more advice. She simply let her words hang there, leaving you to decide what to do with them.

With a sigh, you asked. "And what if I scare him off? He's not one to stick around for emotional conversations."

"Then that's on him," Shoko answered, her tone unwavering. "You deserve to be with someone who can handle your truth. You've fought too hard to build yourself up just to shrink away when it comes to your own feelings."

You couldn't help but let a small smile tug at the corners of your lips. "You sound like a motivational speaker. Maybe I should pay you for this advice."

Shoko smirked back. "Free advice from a friend—can't beat that."

You let out a soft laugh, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes as the tension in your shoulders eased. "Maybe I should start charging you for this emotional therapy."

Shoko rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. "As if I'm not already providing emotional labor for free." Her expression shifted, taking on a more serious note. "But seriously, you need to recognize your strength. If he can't handle it, that's his loss."

Her words settled in, resonating with the uncertainty that had been lingering in your mind for weeks. You glanced at the dress again, its elegance stark against the disarray of your workspace. It felt like a symbol of a deeper decision, one you had been hesitating to confront.

"Alright," you finally said, your voice steady. "I'll talk to him. Just... not at the party. That would be a disaster."

Shoko raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eyes. "So you're not planning to lay it all out while everyone's drinking and dancing? Quite the bold strategy."

You chuckled softly, the humor defusing your anxiety. "Exactly. No need to add chaos to the already chaotic." Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself. "I'll find a moment. Maybe afterward, when the noise has died down."

"Sounds like a solid plan." Shoko leaned closer, her expression softening. "Just remember, it's not about perfect timing. It's about being honest with yourself and him, regardless of how messy it might get."

Nodding, you maintained your composed demeanor, a slight smile playing on your lips. "Understood, Ma'am."

"Now that's the spirit. And hey," she added with a teasing lilt, "if things get overwhelming, just call me. I'll be there to rescue you from any emotional train wreck."

"Right, because you'll just sit back and enjoy the spectacle," you replied with a knowing smirk.

"Guilty as charged," she admitted, her laughter mingling with yours. In that moment, the lightness in the air felt refreshing, a brief respite amidst the turmoil of everything else weighing on you.