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

169 ~ Hundred And Sixty-Nine

[T]he night was cool, the quiet air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket as you sat on the stairs overlooking the empty track.

It was the perfect place to think—secluded, far from the chaos that had followed you all day. Ever since your conversation with Shoko earlier, the words had been circling in your mind, pressing against you like a constant hum, but here—under the stars, with nothing but silence stretching around you—everything finally felt still.

Your fingers traced the insulated lunch bag next to you, absentmindedly grazing the fabric. Inside lay the bento boxes you had prepared. One for yourself. One for him. Both untouched.

You thought about the black blindfold you had custom-made for him—simple, elegant, personal. It was meant to be a gesture, a subtle gift that spoke of things left unsaid. But you never found the right moment, and now, it only reminded you of how everything between you had slowly unraveled.

A breath of wind brushed against your skin, but you remained composed. You weren't here to indulge in expectations. Those had only let you down before.

Yet, a part of you, knew he'd come looking for you. He always did. So when the subtle shift in the cursed energy around you registered, you weren't surprised. A faint smirk touched your lips just before his familiar presence materialized beside you. You didn't even have to look to know it was him.

"Babe?" His voice came out in that playful lilt, just a touch too casual for the way your pulse quickened at his proximity. "Was thinking—wanna head to Tokyo for dinner—Oh?"

He paused when his eyes—blindfolded as always—fell on the bento box you had pulled out. You glanced at him with a composed, steady smirk, eyes meeting his covered gaze. The quiet tension between you buzzed, charged with something unsaid.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice smooth, as if you hadn't already known he'd come.

Gojo tilted his head slightly, his lips pulling into that familiar lazy grin that could both irritate and intrigue you. "Looking for you, obviously," he drawled, taking a seat next to you without asking. "Didn't think I'd find you out here... having a solo dinner in the dark."

You let out a quiet hum, glancing at the sky. "Needed some space," you replied, your tone smooth, measured. "Didn't expect anyone to come looking."

"Anyone? Or just me?"

Your eyes flicked to him, studying his laid-back posture—the way he leaned slightly back, like he was always meant to be there. Like he belonged wherever you were. "Does it matter?" you responded softly, keeping your voice calm.

His grin didn't falter, but there was something sharper in his eyes now, the playful edge to his voice darkening ever so slightly. He leaned in, just enough for his presence to brush against yours, heat radiating off him. "Maybe not," he mused, his voice low. "But you're always more interesting when you're alone like this. What's on your mind?"

'You.'

The word sat on the tip of your tongue, daring you to say it. But you didn't. You couldn't.

Instead, you met his gaze with calm composure, the weight of his challenge barely grazing you. "Not everything needs to be discussed," you answered calmly, a quiet deflection.

He chuckled, a lazy sound, fingers brushing his knee as he leaned back again, though his attention stayed fixed on you. "Thought we were past keeping things from each other."

Your hand moved calmly as you opened the second bento box, nudging it toward him. "I wasn't hiding," you replied, your voice cool, collected.

There was a pause—brief, but loaded with the kind of tension that simmered beneath the surface whenever you were near him. From the corner of your eye, you caught his curious glance. "Since you're here," you continued, "you should eat."

Gojo's smile grew, a spark of mischief lighting up his expression. His eyes flicked to the bento you offered, brow quirking in mock interest. "You made me dinner?" he teased lightly, but there was something deeper in the way he looked at you—like he was almost surprised you'd gone through the effort.

Something about it made him pause, like he couldn't quite reconcile the gesture with everything between you.

He reached for the bento with deliberate ease, his fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary. "So, is this your way of wooing me? Gotta admit, it's working."

The way he held your gaze, the slight edge in his voice—it wasn't just teasing anymore. It was Gojo, playful as ever, but with a tension lingering beneath his words, daring you to react.

You shrugged, your tone effortlessly cool. "Shoko mentioned you had refined taste. I'm sure it'll do."

"So, you're trying to impress me?"

A wave of his cursed energy brushed your skin, subtle but deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine despite the control you had over your composure. You thanked every ounce of restraint you had for keeping your expression neutral, calm—because if he knew the effect he had on you, he'd never let it go.

Your gaze turned to him, steady and unbothered, meeting his eyes with a quiet intensity. "Think of it however you want," you replied smoothly, your voice a touch darker.

A soft laugh escaped him, and while it was casual, there was an undertone that made your pulse skip. He picked up his chopsticks, eyeing the meal with exaggerated scrutiny before taking a bite. For a moment, his expression shifted, something genuine flickering behind his usual carefree demeanor.

"Well," he finally said, dragging out the moment as if savoring the victory, "I've got to admit, this is pretty good." His eyes met yours again, that signature confidence in full display as he shot you a sideways grin. "Maybe I should let you cook for me more often."

You smirked slightly, eyes flicking to your own food. "I'll consider it—if you behave."

"Where's the fun in that?"

For a moment, the conversation lulled, but the silence between you wasn't uncomfortable. It was thick, charged with the familiar tension that always simmered when the two of you were alone. You could feel his gaze on you, his presence as tangible as the night air, and you knew what he was waiting for—waiting for you to crack, to talk about what was really on your mind.

But you didn't. Instead, you took a bite of your own dinner, deliberately slow, keeping the calm exterior that you knew always left him wanting more.

Gojo watched you for a beat longer before speaking again, his voice quieter, more deliberate. "You know, I always find you."

"And what if I don't want to be found?"

His smile widened, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost your skin. "Then you'll have to try harder to lose me."

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your face composed. He inched a little closer, that insufferable grin still firmly in place. His presence seemed to stretch over you, both playful and heavy.

"What are you doing?" you murmured, tilting your head just slightly, your eyes briefly tracing the curve of his lips before returning to his blindfolded gaze.

His face was too close, dangerously so, and you hated that it made your heart race.

Gojo chuckled, low and smooth, though he didn't pull back. "You smell sweet."

That wasn't exactly what you'd expected him to say, and your eyebrows raised for a split second. You held your composure, despite the heat flaring between you. His closeness tugged at something inside you, and for a moment, you wondered what would happen if you closed the distance, if you let your guard down for just a second. But instead, you reached for the lunch bag, as casually as if nothing had shifted in the air between you.

"Must be because of these," you stated, your voice steady, as you pressed a small container against his chest, using it to push him just enough out of your space.

He arched an eyebrow, momentarily distracted as he accepted the container. The intrigue in his expression deepened when he opened it and found your signature fruit-flavored cream puffs nestled inside. His half-eaten dinner was forgotten, and he let out a soft, amused hum.

"You've been holding out on me," he teased, his blindfolded gaze flicking over the cream puffs before landing back on you. "Thought dinner was the main event, but these? Now you've really got my attention."

You didn't react to his teasing, your movements calm and deliberate as you reached for the thermos next to your bag. "Is that right?" you commented, your voice smooth, unbothered. Pouring the green tea into paper cups. "Maybe I just like to save the best for last."

His full attention was still on you, a playful glint in his eyes as he reached for a cream puff. "Green tea and dessert under the stars? You really know how to set the mood."

You gave a soft, almost imperceptible shrug, staying in control even though his proximity was still gnawing at the edge of your thoughts. The way he was watching you, the way he leaned in as if testing how close he could get—it was all calculated, intentional. You felt the pull, the undeniable urge to close that gap between you.

For a fleeting moment, you wanted to kiss him. It would be so easy to give in, to let the moment slip into something deeper, something physical. But you didn't. Instead, you handed him the cup of tea, your fingers brushing his just long enough to let him feel the unspoken heat between you.

Gojo, sensing the restraint in your movements, grinned, taking a slow sip of the tea. "You know," he mused, his voice dropping an octave, "if you wanted to impress me, you didn't have to try so hard. I'm already pretty sold."

"Who said I was trying to impress you?"

He chuckled again, the sound low and full of amusement. "Touché," he murmured, mostly to himself. "But you're not as hard to read as you think."

You held his gaze, feeling the heat between you both, but you didn't break. Not yet. Instead, you took a slow sip of your tea, the moment stretching out as you let the tension simmer in the space between you.

Gojo took a bite of another cream puff, though his grin never faded. "I'll admit, this is better than I expected," he acknowledged, though his words were clearly layered with more than just... food.

"Good to know I haven't disappointed."

He laughed, soft and warm at that. "You never do."