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

176 ~ Hundred And Seventy-Six

[T]he black-haired man looked like he was about to drop one of his signature cocky remarks when a waiter approached, leaning in close and muttering something in his ear.

A flicker of irritation crossed Sinichi's face before he nodded once, curt. "Is that so? Fine. Let her know I'll be there in a few."

As the waiter disappeared, Sinichi's sharp eyes cut back to you, but Gojo's hand tightened just a bit at your waist, as if to silently remind you where the line was. His fingers were warm, grounding—but you couldn't resist.

"Leaving already, Sinichi?" you purred, offering the slightest of smirks as you casually stabbed into the cheesecake in front of you.

Without missing a beat, you took a bite, then stabbed another piece, offering the fork to Gojo with ease. He leaned in, lips brushing the edge of the fork as he took the bite. The tension between the two of you was thick, almost palpable, but so subtle that it felt like a private game only you and he were playing.

Sinichi's eyes flicked between you and Gojo, darkening as a low chuckle slipped from him. "Why? Starting to miss me already?"

A soft laugh slipped from you, dismissive. "Hardly. I don't miss losers."

"Ouch," His response came with a feigned wince, though his dark eyes stayed locked on yours. "I thought you didn't hurt the ones you... loved."

You arched an eyebrow, piercing him with a cool, steady gaze. "True," you teased, the slightest glint in your eyes. "I don't."

"Then why did you?"

Gojo, who had been silently observing the exchange, couldn't resist cutting in, his tone dripping with playful venom. "Someone hand this guy a GPS," he drawled, his fingers brushing lazy circles against your side. "Clearly, he's lost and confused."

Sinichi's jaw ticked, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table, but he remained composed, his expression calm despite the flicker of irritation. "You got something to say, Joker?"

Amusement flickered in Gojo's eyes, utterly unfazed. "Oh, plenty." he mused, his tone light with just a trace of warning. "But I'll do you a favor and save you from embarrassing yourself in front of... well, everyone."

"What exactly are you implying?"

A lazy smirk curved Gojo's lips, his posture deceptively relaxed. "She doesn't love you, genius," he replied, his voice full of playful condescension. "That's what she's saying."

The playful mask Sinichi wore cracked for just a second. He didn't argue, though. With a smooth, practiced motion, he shrugged, stood, and slid a business card onto the table. His eyes remained locked on yours. "Mina's sick," he murmured, voice low. "Give me a call sometime. We'll talk."

Your eyes flicked to the card, barely registering it before snapping back to him. "Mina?" The name slipped out quieter than intended, tugging at buried threads from long ago, memories you had tried to leave behind in Kyoto.

Mina—Miyu's little sister. The same Miyu Sinichi had cheated on you with in high school. The name gnawed at the edges of old wounds you thought you'd long since covered.

Sinichi's brow arched, his sharp gaze cutting through you with a knowing smirk. "Still dealing with that selective memory thing?" His voice oozed with mock concern. "What was it Ryusaki called it?"

The mention of your condition sent a ripple of tension through the air, the weight of it tightening like a noose. Your body stilled, your expression carefully composed, but inside, everything reeled.

Beside you, Gojo's body went rigid, jaw tightening beneath his relaxed mask. He didn't move, but you could feel the heat of his protective energy rolling off him, his grip on your waist firming just slightly.

"You knew?" The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it, a hint of disbelief woven into your voice.

"Yeah," he murmured in response, unnervingly casual. "Let's catch up sometime. I'll fill in those gaps for you."

The silence stretched between you, tension thick, thoughts swirling in your mind. Gojo's hand stayed warm and grounding on your waist, but his disapproval radiated in waves.

Still, there were answers you needed. Slowly, you nodded. "I'll think about it."

Gojo's muscles coiled tight, a sharp inhale barely perceptible, though his expression stayed calm. "Think fast," he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over your ear, searing the side of your neck in a way that made your pulse race.

Heat flushed through you, and you bit down on the inside of your lip, resisting the sound that threatened to escape.

He was making this so much harder.

The ache between your thighs grew more unbearable with every passing second, each lazy stroke of his fingers against your waist making it worse. You pressed your legs together, desperate for some relief. If he didn't stop soon, hiding your arousal would become impossible.