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

170 ~ Hundred And Seventy

[T]he club exuded exclusivity from the moment you crossed the threshold.

Dim lighting cast a golden haze over sleek black surfaces, the kind of luxury that was whispered rather than flaunted. The scent of rich mahogany and polished leather hung in the air, blending seamlessly with the faint trace of high-end cologne.

At the center of the lounge, a glossy black pool table gleamed under soft, ambient lighting, reflecting the room's elegant, understated opulence. Velvet seats in deep shades of charcoal and onyx were scattered around, each alcove offering a secluded space for guests to relax.

The bar stretched along one side of the room, its shelves filled with high-end spirits, bottles of premium wines, and rare champagnes, all glistening under carefully placed spotlights. Across from it, long tables draped in silk-black cloths, adorned with golden tableware and delicate glassware, completed the refined setting. Beyond, the dance floor lingered, an empty space awaiting whatever plans Gojo had for tonight's 'Congratulatory party.'

Your eyes roamed the room, noting the guests in their subtle finery, the murmur of conversations blending into a soft hum. Shoko walked ahead, effortlessly calm, her presence anchoring you after a day of relentless preparations. But it wasn't the luxury of the venue or the crowd that captured your attention—it was him.

Gojo Satoru, lounging like he owned the place, dressed in a form-fitting black turtleneck and tailored suit. He reclined in one of the plush seats near the pool table, his presence commanding the room despite his casual posture. His cursed energy radiated even from a distance, brushing against yours in a way that was almost deliberate—like a silent dare. Familiar, insistent, teasing.

For a brief moment, the entire room seemed to still as his attention shifted. Nanami and Yaga had been engaged in a pool game, but even they seemed to pause, their conversation fading as Gojo's gaze locked onto yours.

There it was—his signature smirk, sharp as ever, tugging at the corner of his mouth as he adjusted his sunglasses just enough to glance at you. The low hum of his energy was subtle but unmistakable, like a silent conversation only the two of you could understand.

Shoko paused, throwing a glance your way as if sensing the shift in the room's energy. "Quite the entrance," she murmured, her tone casual, but there was a glint in her eyes.

You shrugged, keeping your face unreadable, though the weight of Gojo's gaze was impossible to ignore. "It's not my fault he can't help himself," you replied coolly, your tone perfectly even as though you hadn't just felt the full force of his attention.

As you approached, Gojo straightened slightly in his seat, his smirk widening in that effortlessly arrogant way of his. He didn't say anything, but his energy swirled, playful and dangerous, like he was waiting for you to bite.

Nanami, ever the composed one, lined up his next shot, though he glanced up briefly, his brow furrowing in subtle acknowledgment of your presence. "Late, as expected," he remarked dryly, though there was no missing the slight arch of his eyebrow when his gaze landed on you, taking in your outfit with a hint of... surprise.

Gojo stood up lazily, stepping toward you. "You know what they say about saving the best for last." His eyes, even hidden behind those dark shades, practically radiated amusement.

You didn't flinch, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you offered a faint smirk of your own. "Or maybe the best just prefers to make an entrance when it counts."

Gojo's grin widened, and his cursed energy spiked for just a heartbeat, like he couldn't resist testing the boundaries. "Oh, it definitely counts." His voice was low, almost a purr, the words dripping with a kind of playfulness that bordered on something else.

Nanami, barely lifting his gaze from the billiard table, lined up his next shot with surgical precision. "Looks like Gojo's already bored," he muttered, his tone dry as ever. But there was a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes—something only someone familiar with him would catch.

You crossed your arms, meeting Gojo's widening grin with a composed stare. "Didn't realize I was part of tonight's entertainment." Your voice was smooth, steady—offering nothing that would let him think you dressed for him.

He leaned in, just enough to close the distance without touching, a whisper of cologne brushing past your senses. "Oh, you're always part of the entertainment. Just didn't know when you'd decide to steal the show."

The tension in the air thickened with his words, the invisible thread between you tightening.