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

181 ~ Hundred And Eighty-One

[Y]our body felt like lead, utterly wrecked in the aftermath of last night.

Gojo Satoru had spared no effort in wearing you down to the core, and now, as consciousness slowly returned, you could barely move. It felt like you'd been hit by a truck. That was the first thing you noticed.

The second? He was still buried deep inside you, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist like he was afraid you might slip away.

Not that you had any intention or even the strength to. Hell, you weren't even sure where you were—let alone how to escape. The room was dim, afternoon light filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows over the disheveled bed.

You lay there, blinking, disoriented and aching, trying to process the storm of pleasure and exhaustion that had consumed you. It took every ounce of willpower to slowly pry yourself from his hold. His grip loosened just enough for you to shift slightly, turning your head to catch a glimpse of him.

"Pretty," you breathed, the word slipping past your lips before you could stop it. You reached up, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his face, your fingers lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary.

His sleeping face was serene, soft—so unlike the Satoru you were used to. His defenses were down, no Infinity shielding him, no cocky grin plastered on his face. Just him, bare, vulnerable, as if this was the only time you could truly see him.

Leaning in, you planted a soft kiss on his forehead, barely a brush of lips. The gesture felt more intimate than it should, a fleeting moment of tenderness beneath the layers of lust that had consumed the two of you. But as you pulled back, reality snapped into focus, and with it, the pressure in your bladder.

You needed to pee—urgently.

With a frustrated sigh, you muttered a quiet curse, "Great." Wincing as you slowly pushed yourself up, your legs trembling beneath you.

You managed to brace yourself against the nightstand, biting your lip to keep from making a sound. The soreness between your legs was unmistakable. Your thighs quivered, still sensitive, and as you took another step, you felt something warm and thick slide down your inner thigh.

A glance downward made your heart skip—a thick trail of his cum, still leaking from you, heavy and unmistakable. It was a visceral reminder of how desperately he'd wanted you, how neither of you had been able to hold back, consumed by the need for each other.

"Fuck's sake," you scoffed, shaking your head.

"Need a hand, babe?"

His voice came from behind you, smooth and familiar, and you whipped around so fast you nearly lost your balance. Gojo was propped up lazily on an elbow, his hair a mess and those intense blue eyes still heavy with sleep. He watched you with that same cocky, lopsided grin that always made your heart skip.

"Didn't think you'd be up so soon," he teased, his gaze shameless as it flickered down your body, clearly taking in the sight of your legs wobbling and the mess between them.

You glared at him, heat rising to your cheeks. "I wouldn't be if someone hadn't tried to break me in half."

He chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling as he slowly sat up, stretching his long arms over his head before swinging his legs off the bed. He looked too damn smug, cracking his neck like he hadn't just spent the entire night making you scream his name. His broad, muscular back rippled with every subtle movement as he lazily reached for his discarded pants. The sight of the angry red scratch marks etched into his skin—marks you'd left in the heat of last night—made you inwardly curse, both embarrassed and oddly proud of the evidence you'd left behind.

"I didn't hear you complaining," he informed you, the teasing edge to his voice not quite masking the unspoken tension beneath.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the flutter in your chest as you limped toward the bathroom. "Shut up," you snapped, but there was no bite in your words. Not really.

He watched you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he were stripping you bare all over again—even though you were already naked. But this wasn't just about sex anymore. It hadn't been for a long time.