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

184 ~ Hundred And Eighty-Four

"Thought you weren't running," his voice slid through the air like silk, casual but sharp. The first thing he threw your way after hanging up his phone, eyes dancing with amusement.

You let a smirk of your own curl across your lips as you wiped your hands on the towel beside the sink, taking your time, never once breaking eye contact. He thought he was still in control. Always did. The thought alone gave you a twisted sense of satisfaction, knowing how easy it was to make him second-guess himself.

"What are you getting at?"

Three pancakes were stacked high on his plate, dripping with honey. You knew he loved to eat, and more than that, he loved indulging himself in sweets. That was your subtle way of taking care of him—feeding him. The unspoken affection between you both. But, of course, Gojo had to make a mess of things, as always. Literally this time.

There he was, back on his stool, cutting into the pancakes with a deliberate slowness. You watched as he dug into the food, unapologetically messy, syrup trailing down his chin.

'Always such a mess,' you thought, lips twitching. But he was doing it on purpose, you could tell by the way his gaze remained locked on yours, licking the syrup off his lips with deliberate slowness.

He knew what he was doing.

You sucked in a breath, feeling that familiar pull—he was baiting you, trying to crack your calm, your carefully composed exterior. The temptation simmered in the air between you, thick and unspoken.

You exhaled slowly, choosing not to bite. Not yet. Instead, you leaned forward to grab your glass of juice, making a point of ignoring him.

But he wasn't about to let it slide.

He reached across the counter, his fingers grazing yours as he handed the glass back to you, the touch electric, sending a jolt straight through you. His lips quirked into a smirk when he noticed the subtle tension in your frame, the quickening of your breath.

He was teasing you, playing the same game you always played with him.

You forced yourself to look away, heart pounding despite your best efforts to stay composed. But of course, he noticed. Gojo always noticed.

"Still sticking to your story?" His voice was deceptively light, teasing, like a predator batting around prey, toying with you.

You fought to keep your expression neutral, lifting the glass to your lips and taking a slow sip, savoring the mix of flavors. "Absolutely," you replied, voice smooth, even, though your heart was still racing. The temptation to give in—just once more—was like a weight pressing down on you. He made it too easy to want to fall into his games.

Gojo's gaze never left yours, even as he chewed on his food, messy as ever, watching you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world. His grin stretched wider when he saw your subtle struggle, like he was savoring every moment of your restraint.

"Then why'd you call for a ride?" he asked, voice all nonchalance, the provocation clear.

Your eyes narrowed, the smirk on your lips hardening. He was baiting you. Trying to crawl under your skin. But you weren't going to bite—not yet. At least not on his terms.

You let out a sigh, long and slow, as if the question had bored you. "I need to restock on a few things." Your voice dripped with calm indifference, as if that was the most mundane answer in the world. You shot him a look, head slightly tilted. "Why? Want me to stay?"

That got him. His grin deepened, something wicked sparking in his eyes. But there was a flicker of surprise too, like he hadn't expected you to flip it back on him so easily. "Yeah," he admitted, his tone dropping just a little lower, more intimate. "You've got the days off. Stay the weekend."

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion immediately flaring. "And how exactly do you know about my schedule?" You cocked a brow, voice edging into something else as you pieced it together. The realization hit you, and a dry laugh slipped past your lips. "Don't tell me—it was you?"

Gojo shrugged, utterly unbothered, his usual cocky grin spreading across his face. "Might've pulled some strings," he drawled with a careless wave of his hand, like it was no big deal. Like manipulating your schedule wasn't crossing any lines.

That should've pissed you off. The arrogance, the audacity. He always thought he had control, that he could make decisions for you. But instead, it stirred something else inside you—a thrill. You'd never admit it to him, but the idea of having him so close, alone in his apartment, away from the chaos of curses and responsibilities... it had its appeal.

"Fine," you agreed, surprising even yourself with how quickly you conceded.