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

50 ~ Fifty

[H]e finally released you, leaving you a panting mess, your eyes unfocused and dazed, lips swollen, and face flushed.

It was one of the most disheveled yet enticing looks he'd seen on you, and he couldn't help but absorb every detail, imprinting this image of you deep into his memories.

"God damn, why are you so hot," he muttered aloud, frustration evident in his voice as if you were deliberately making it hard for him.

You heard the sound of a belt becoming undone, a zipper pulled down, before he pressed his clothed shaft against your half-clothed core.

"Argh—" you groaned, your eyes flickering to his manhood before returning to his face, relieved to see that he was just as affected as you were.

But any sense of relief quickly vanished when you saw the predatory look in his eyes, his jaw clenched so hard you could practically see a vein bulging on the side of it.

"Babe, I don't think I can hold back any longer," his breathing was ragged and heavy, his voice husky and predatory. You were used to seeing his goofy side, so this new intensity was foreign to you. "Ask me to stop while you can."

"Isn't it a bit too late for th—"

"No," he cut you off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Can't promise I'll be gentle, hm! I just want to shove it in, even if it hurts... for you." His admission sent a shiver down your spine.

Wait? Did he know? Was he saying this could hurt?

As if reading your mind, he answered, "it was a dead giveaway, ya know? I mean, how come you never touched yourself once after seeing me cum on your face?"

How did he know that? You pondered inwardly.

It wasn't that you hadn't touched yourself once, but rather that you didn't know how to quell the ache.

Your breath hitched, and you frowned, "Gojo Satoru—"

"Satoru," he corrected, his smile complicated, his desperation palpable.

You placed your bound hand over your eyes, resting your head backward as you released a sigh.

"J-just d—" you were about to give in, to let him have his way, when the ringing of a phone cut through the charged atmosphere, breaking the spell of desire.

His left hand delved into his pocket as he retrieved his phone and scrutinized the screen, a furrow forming on his brow.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, slapping his forehead lightly before glancing down at you. "Can't catch a break, can I?"

You observed him with interest as he straightened up, shifting to a kneeling position on the couch.

"Heya," he greeted in his usual playful tone when he picked up the call, then added, "what's got you calling, hm?"

How could he switch back to his carefree demeanor after everything you'd just experienced together?

It felt like he was putting on an act. You realized he always wore that goofy mask around others, making you wonder which was the real him.

"I see!" he mumbled into the phone. "Mm, 'kay. I'll be there in a few."

He nodded to himself before ending the call and tossing the phone casually onto the coffee table.

You half-expected him to roll off you and leave, but instead, he collapsed onto you, burying his face into your exposed breast.

"Ouff," he sighed against your skin. "I don't wanna go."

He whined, his tone almost childlike, but you sensed there was more to it.

"And I want to fuck you... so bad."

"Who was it?" you asked, furrowing your brow as you'd caught a glimpse of a woman's voice during the call, though you couldn't quite make out the details.

"Ah, no one important," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, nonchalantly zipping his pants and buckling his belt.

"W-what are you doing?" you questioned incredulously.

Was he really just going to leave you here?

"Got something to take care of," he explained, a hint of apology in his eyes. "Can you handle things here and... yourself? It's pretty urgent."

You sighed. What a piece of trash. Typical of someone like him.

You knew of his type—those who helped undress you before sex and then left you to deal with the aftermath.

You were relieved he wouldn't get the chance to fully satisfy himself with you. It would serve him right for toying with you.

"Go," you ordered, your expression returning to its usual cold and blank demeanor.

Sensing something amiss, he blinked, leaning over you with a hand braced on the couch beside your head. "What's eating you, hm? Upset that I'm hitting the road?"

You looked away, hiding your vulnerability, unwilling to show him the turmoil inside. "No, nothing," you replied, your voice betraying none of the storm raging within. "Just tired. Go."

He felt the tension in your words, the distance in your demeanor, and it irked him.

Gripping your face roughly, he forced your eyes to meet his as he kissed you again, firm and demanding.

His lips moved with a hunger that mirrored your own, and as you yielded to the intensity of his kiss, you could taste yourself on his lips, a potent reminder of the pleasure he had just bestowed upon you.

"Don't be like that," he murmured against your lips, trying to coax warmth from you. "I don't wanna leave either, but duty calls."

"I told you to go," you said calmly, your coldness only fueling his irritation.

He leaned against you, enfolding you in his arms, his warmth enveloping you. "Stop icing me out."

"I barely even—"

"I said stop," he interrupted, his frustration evident in his tone, a departure from his usual carefree demeanor.

For reasons unknown, your gaze softened slightly as you sighed. "Go, they'll be waiting."

He straightened, a mock pout on his lips as he helped you sit up, fixing your clothes with unexpected gentleness.

"W-What are you doing?" you asked, puzzled by his sudden shift in demeanor.

"I ordered some kikufukus for us. Too bad we won't get to enjoy 'em together," he mumbled instead, reaching for his jacket. "I'm tempted to leave you with my blindfold too, but I need it."

He teased, untying your wrists and quickly blindfolding himself. In moments, he was back to his usual self, leaning in to hand you one of the paper bags.

"Enjoy 'em and think of me," he said with a smirk. "I'll be back before you know it."

He leaned in for a brief kiss, a promise of more, before straightening up and grabbing his phone.

"Keep your door open," he advised, a hint of insecurity creeping into his voice. "When I'm back, I'll make good on my promise to rock your world."

You frowned but simply nodded, not wanting to say anything more.

Before he left, he asked once more, seeking reassurance. "You're not mad, are you?"

"Relieved, actually," you replied, surprising yourself with the honesty of your words. "I won't have to see your ugly mug for a while."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Admit it, you think I'm hot—"

"Don't flatter yourself," you retorted, rolling your eyes. "I said you'd be hot if you kept your mouth shut."

"Then shut me up," he challenged, his smirk widening.

You stood up and stepped closer, ignoring the height difference.

He leaned down slightly, meeting you halfway as you pressed your lips against his, eager to silence him before he left.