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

197 ~ Hundred And Ninety-Seven 🔞

[T]he air between you two was thick, your body straddling his lap, grinding into him with a delicious rhythm that neither of you seemed to want to break. His breath hitched slightly, a subtle shift in his usual cocky demeanor, but that familiar grin—half teasing, half serious—never faltered.

"That's why I keep telling you," he murmured between heated kisses, his hands gripping your hips as if you might slip away at any second. "You should be my personal assistant."

You groaned, lips brushing his, frustrated at the sudden distance he'd put between you. "What difference do you think that'll make?" You tried to close the gap again, but he pulled back just enough to make you chase, the heat of his body tempting, infuriating. Always a tease.

He chuckled, low and rough. "Because then, you'd be right where I need you, anytime." His words were more a promise than a suggestion.

His grip tightened, lifting you effortlessly as he pressed you against the couch cushions, leaving you slightly breathless from the sudden shift in position. Before you could protest, he pulled out the blindfold you had gifted him, twirling it between his fingers with that wicked, playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Seriously?" Your voice came out in a half-laugh, half-gasp. "What are you—"

But your words were cut short as the soft material slipped over your eyes, plunging you into darkness. The familiar sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a gasp escaping your lips.

The scent of him filled your nostrils, sweet and intoxicating. You weren't resisting, and he knew it.

"You look even better like this," he whispered, his voice low, a velvet caress in the dark. His mouth was on your neck in seconds, the sensation sending electricity through your skin as his lips dragged lazily across your pulse point.

"Say... can I mark you?" His breath was hot against your neck, a sinful request disguised in his usual cocky tone.

"Shoko's gonna kill you," you muttered, though it wasn't exactly a protest. As if threatening him with your friend would work. Gojo Satoru wasn't someone easily deterred by consequences, especially when it came to getting what he wanted.

He laughed against your skin, his hand sliding beneath your hoodie, cool fingers meeting the warmth of your bare skin. "I'll let you drain my reverse cursed energy afterward. Deal?"

You sighed, already feeling your resolve slipping as he kissed down your throat, each touch more intoxicating than the last. "Fine. But only where it won't show. I'm not dealing with Shoko's mouth."

"Deal," he growled, wasting no time, lips pressing hard against yours, his tongue hot and possessive as he explored your mouth.

The taste of him was addictive, leaving you breathless, dizzy. He tugged your hoodie higher, his mouth trailing down the exposed skin, teeth grazing lightly as he nipped at the sensitive flesh below your collarbone, just enough to leave a mark.

Your hands found his hair, threading through the familiar white locks, tugging him closer, desperate for more. His hands were everywhere now, sliding down your sides, gripping you in a way that made it clear who was in control.

And you were losing it. Quickly.

The blindfold only heightened everything—the feeling of his lips, the teasing way his hands moved, never quite giving you what you wanted but keeping you right on the edge.

"Satoru..." You barely managed to breathe out his name, voice a mixture of need and frustration.

He smirked against your skin, loving every second of your surrender. "You know you can have me anytime too, right? You just have to say the word." His voice was smooth, dangerous, laced with the promise of everything you could ask for.

But you didn't need to say it. He already knew.

"Mean," you breathed out, voice trembling with need. "You know I can't hold out any longer. Just take me, Satoru."

A low chuckle rumbled from him, the sound vibrating through your body. His hands slid down your sides, playful yet purposeful. "So fucking honest," he mused, though the rasp in his voice betrayed his own control as he slowly tugged your sweatpants down.

Your lips curled into a subtle smirk. "Thought you said 'no more hiding' between us?"

He didn't respond this time—not with words, at least. Instead, his hands moved upward, fingers deftly working the waistband of your underwear, peeling them away with excruciating slowness. The anticipation had you trembling, and just when you thought you'd lose your mind, his fingers found your slit, wet and desperate for his touch.

A wail tore from your throat, your back arching, pushing yourself further into his hand. "Ah—there..." you gasped, hips bucking involuntarily as he began to work you skillfully.

Gojo's breath hitched, and the teasing faltered slightly. "Seriously, how do you get this soaked, just from me?" His usual taunts laced with a rougher edge, catching in his throat.

You could only groan in response, words slipping away, but you managed to bite back, weak as it was. "Don't tease me, Satoru," you muttered, though the protest lacked any real conviction. "It's all your fault."

He grinned, pleased with himself, his fingers moving faster, and just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he leaned down, lips brushing against your ear, breath hot and ragged. "Then let me fix it."

The blindfold over your eyes heightened every sensation, stripping away your sight and leaving you vulnerable to him—to every single touch, every breath, every whispered word.

"You're so responsive." His voice was a low rumble, filled with amusement and lust, as his fingers trailed down your body, teasing your sensitive spots. "It drives me crazy."

The unmistakable sound of a belt and zipper filled the air, making your pulse quicken. You felt the heat radiating from him, his body pressed intimately against yours. Just as you opened your mouth to protest—or plead—he lifted your hips slightly, aligning himself perfectly as the tip of his cock teased against your slick entrance.

The anticipation was almost unbearable, and you whimpered in frustration.

"Satoru..." you pleaded, voice breathless, need dripping from every syllable.

He gripped your hips, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. The stretch, the overwhelming feeling of him stretching you open, had your mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

"Fuck—" You arched your back, the sensation intensifying with the lack of sight.

Every nerve was on fire, your body trembling as he pulled back only to drive himself back into you, harder. The fabric of his pants brushed against your thighs, adding to the intensity. His movements were slow but deep, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

"Feel that?" His voice was husky, right at your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Every inch of me inside you."

You could only moan in response, your hands gripping at the cushions beneath you, trying to ground yourself in the storm of sensations. He wasn't giving you a moment to catch your breath, each stroke deliberate, calculated—he knew exactly how to unravel you.

Blindfolded, you couldn't see him, couldn't see the way his eyes were locked on you, watching every expression that crossed your face, watching how you bit your lip, how your chest rose and fell with every shaky breath.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice low and full of heat, "so fucking beautiful like this, blindfolded, and all mine."

Your senses were overloaded—his voice, his hands, his cock moving inside you. Your body responded to him instinctively, your hips bucking to meet his every thrust, a desperate, aching need for more.

"Satoru—!" His name was a plea, a moan, something you couldn't control as he picked up the pace, fucking you harder now, the slap of skin against skin echoing in the room.

He chuckled, the sound dark and dangerous. "I love it when you say my name like that."

Your world narrowed down to nothing but the feeling of him inside you, pounding into you with reckless abandon. His hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting your hips higher, changing the angle just enough that every thrust hit deeper, making you cry out in ecstasy.

"Fucking hell," you whimpered, nails digging into his arms. "You—oh god—"

He silenced you with his lips, crashing down on yours, swallowing every moan, every scream. His tongue tangled with yours, messy and hungry, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"How's that feel, baby?" he growled against your lips, his thrusts becoming relentless, driving you higher and higher. "You love it, don't you?"

You were too far gone to respond, your body trembling uncontrollably as the pleasure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until finally, with one last, deep thrust, you shattered around him, your orgasm ripping through you like a wildfire.

Blindfolded, you could only feel—your body clenching around him, the heat, the way he groaned as he felt you cum around his cock. But he didn't stop. He kept thrusting into you, fucking you through the aftershocks, pushing you to the edge of another release.

You barely had time to catch your breath before the second wave hit you, and this time, it was more intense, your vision white behind the blindfold, your body convulsing beneath him.

"Satoru—!" You screamed his name, and he followed, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he buried himself deep inside you, filling you with his release.

For a moment, the world stood still. You were both panting, his body heavy on top of yours, your senses still reeling from the intensity of it all.

Then, he kissed you softly, a stark contrast to the roughness of just moments before. "You're amasing, baby," he murmured against your lips, still catching his breath. "But I'm just getting warmed up."