hurt/comfort blurb based off an ask @missmeinyourbones received :3
gojo x gn!sorcerer!reader, he's ridiculous, lovesick and dramatic in the one but that's how we like him here so. enjoy!!
“where is our couch?”
gojo looks up at you from his phone, grinning at you gently with the small smile that he always wears; one you’ve come to adore over the years. this time, however, it does nothing but irritate you because there is a large, vacant space in the living room that has ‘gojo satoru’ written all over it.
“what do you mean?” he asks but the lilt in his tone tells you everything you need to know.
that one, gojo has everything to do with your missing couch. two, you have fallen for his bait, successfully tricked into talking to him because three hours ago, you refused to acknowledge his existence after a heated argument that ended with you promising to sleep on the couch. yet after one harmless trip to the supermarket, you come back to discover that your bed for the night was missing.
and you know him well enough to know that his giddiness stems from the fact that you’re finally giving him the attention he’s been craving for the past few hours.
“where. is. our. couch?” you reaffirm, emphasising each word so they can get through his thick skull.
“is it not in the living room?”
he sounds almost delighted at this peculiar interaction, seeming proud of himself as his eyes shine with mirth. they bravely look into your frustrated and irritated ones.
“i am in no mood to bicker, gojo,” you begin, “either you tell me where our couch has gone or i kick you out.”
the sorcerer pouts from where he sits on the bed, curling into a ball as he stares up at you. the sight would’ve been more comical if you weren’t so mad. “that’s not very nice.”
“you don’t deserve nice,” you mutter, turning on your heels to walk away before gojo can melt you with those honeyed words of his. from the bedroom, you hear fumbling and rustling, followed by footsteps.
instead of paying gojo any mind, you go to the kitchen counter where you left the many bags of groceries you bought.
he rests his elbows on the kitchen island, subliminally begging for an ounce of your attention whilst you sort through the bags. “would you like some help?”
you give him a brief side-eye before resuming. his pout worsens.
“if i tell you what happened to our couch, will you promise to sleep on the bed tonight?” pleads the white-haired, “with me?”
you sigh, “yes.”
“i warped it somewhere.”
“what?” you almost drop the carton of eggs in your hold. “what do you mean ‘somewhere’?”
“somewhere in jujutsu tech, i’m not really sure.” he cringes at the glare you shoot him. “i was gonna get it back if you agreed!”
that was your last straw. running a hand down your face, you don’t see the way that your lover stares at you with hope from the corner of your eye.
“for goodness’ sake, why did you warp our couch?” you quiz.
“because you were going to sleep there,” he murmurs, “and i didn’t know how else to change your mind.”
“you’re twenty-three, gojo. you should know a thing or two about how to reconcile properly by now.”
his pout worsens at the use of his family name. “i am a man in love, y/n, do you know what they say about men in love?”
before you can even think of a snarky remark, realisation hits you like an anvil. whenever gojo uses his teleportation technique it always… leaves… something behind.
rushing over to the carpet that used to be under the couch, you almost have a heart attack when you lift it up and see the scorched marks that occur as a byproduct. the white-haired leans against the kitchen island innocently, whistling.
“and what are you planning on doing about this?” you shriek. you try to remain calm, really, but it’s hard to do so because gojo has an affinity for driving you to the brink of insanity.
“i will get someone to fix it, i promise!”
“and will they not be suspicious that there are marks in our floor?”
“a little bribery never hurt nobody, and i have a lot of money to bribe someone successfully. plus, i have connections in the jujutsu world!”
you drop the carpet, giving up. “i’m calling shoko to crash at hers for the night-”
“-then i’ll warp her house.”
“can you even do that? a couch is pretty impressive already.”
“so you think i’m impressive?”
“i don’t know if i can teleport a house but i’m always willing to try.”
you hate him, you decide. “even if you could warp a house, you shouldn’t, because shoko will kick your ass.”
“but you’ll protect me, won’t you?”
you say nothing, merely glancing at your boyfriend before reaching for your phone in your pockets. however, before you could even unlock the device, gojo is beside you, crouched down to your level. he maintains a respectable distance, one that does not invade your personal space whilst fulfilling his need to be close to you.
“are you actually leaving?” he whispers brokenly, completely changing the atmosphere as his eyes begin to shine with tears that threaten to spill.
your words are lodged in your throat at the pitiful sight. whilst some part of your brain curses you for giving in so easily, the other part that loves gojo (who are you kidding, all of you loves him) begins to feel a little bad.
he continues, reaching for your hand to play with your fingers, “please don’t leave. i’m sorry for what i said when we were arguing. i love you,” he pauses for a second before adding as an afterthought: “a lot.”
gojo’s apology, although a little awkward and rushed, is nothing short of endearing, successfully quelling the waves of frustration and anger you’ve been feeling for the past few hours. although the hurt has not completely faded, it’s a little less suffocating to be around him now.
his life is far from normal, you understand that, and you realised that it would be something you had to deal with when you started dating him in your last year at jujutsu tech. but you fell for gojo because of his sporadicity. life may have not been the same ever since, but in a world where all you are gifted is targets on your back in exchange for keeping lives safe, his love is a refreshing oasis for you to return to when all is said and done.
even though he expresses it through unconventional ways, such as teleporting your couch because he was heartbroken at the prospect of being away from you, you think it’s a fair trade.
as a way of accepting his apology, you open your arms for him and the white-haired doesn’t even let a second pass by before he’s crashing into you.
it’s comforting, the way he holds onto you like you’ll slip from his grasp otherwise. “i’ll go get our couch back soon,” he mutters into you, squeezing your waist a little tighter.
“we’re having a moment, gojo, please don’t mention the couch or i’ll be angry again.”
“sorry,” the white-haired raises his head to look at you, “can i at least get nickname privileges back?”
“you’re ridiculous,” you huff, “no.”