(If you get a period then this is for you. Gender isn't specific otherwise, if you bleed you bleed.)
"I am one mother fucking second away from ripping out my stomach and decorating our apartment with my entrails. I think they would make lovely streamers."
"Maybe we could blow them up and make balloons?"
"Shut the fuck up, you have no place in my interior design."
Gojo stares at you from the couch, watching as you stand in the middle of the living room, arms clenched over your chest and ranting about what organs would go on which doorway.
He had come home to you pacing the floor, teeth clenched tightly and hunched over like your back was broken. When he asked who broke it, you glared, ignoring him and continuing on your trek. The trek being you walking in circles.
After a while he decided to just entertain whatever you have going on, simply watching you like he could be doing with the TV. Some moments he thinks that maybe he should stop your increasingly gruesome train of thought, but then you bring up something interesting and Gojo losses all will to stop you.
What can he say, he has a soft spot for stupid ideas.
"I could also rip the skin off my stomach and stretch it over some plastic. Then I'd have a skin umbrella. That's pretty fucking high fashion." You continue, rambling on and on, your pace quickening.
"Why the stomach? I'd pay to have your ass on my umbrella."
You glower at him, marching up in front of him and pushing your foot onto the couch between his legs. Leaning over him, you let your shadowed eyes stare directly at his.
"I'm not bleeding out of my ass right now. In fact, my ass feels great. So keep your head out of yours, and let me distract myself."
He just smiles up at you, tilting his head and letting his white hair flop to the side. "And why are you distracting yourself?"
"I'm on my period and it feels like my stomach is in a washing machine falling off a plane." You say slowly and quietly, like talking to a baby. "If I don't distract myself, I'm going to get nastily whiny, and I'd rather not have that happen."
"Aw~ Why not? I'd like to see that."
"And I'd like to see your head ripped off your body!"
The man gasps, pressing his hand to his chest and the other clasping your shoulder. "How rude!"
Standing up straighter, you feel his hand slide off of you, and you relax your shoulders slowly. You take a breath, wincing at the sharp pain hitting at your lower abdomen. It's getting worse.
"In complete honesty." You admit, pressing your palm to the bottom of your stomach. "It hurts so fucking bad."
You expect a jibe from Gojo, maybe a innuendo or a show of his gross smile that means he's not taking you seriously. It's not that you don't trust him to care, it's just something you don't bother him with a lot.
Instead, he reaches up and lets his hands wrap around your waist, pushing up your shirt so that the heat from his fingers directly finds your skin. The feeling is smooth but rough, his tender touch paired with his calloused palms. It's a feeling you're quite used to by now.
"Lay down with me." He says rather then asks, pushing your foot off the couch and pulling you closer to him. You place your hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself.
"I don't want to-"
"Too fucking bad, c'mon."
Standing up, Gojo lets go of your waist with one hand, sliding the other one behind your back and guiding you toward the bedroom. His finger traces little circles on the small of your back as you walk, and you can't find it within yourself to debate with him any longer. Mainly because he's a pain in the ass to deal with.
Once you make it to the bedroom, Gojo quickly maneuvers you into the bed, and starts changing his clothes. You're already practically ready for bed, but Gojo hadn't done anything but sit on the couch and watch you since he got home.
Quickly he joins you, pulling the covers up and sliding in next to you. He's shirtless like he always is, warmth radiating from his pale skin. He's practically a furnace.
"Where does it hurt the most?" Gojo asks, facing toward you and making out the gleam of your eye even in the dim lighting.
"Stomach, dipshit." You reply.
"No fucking shit. I'm trying to be gentlemanly and princely~"
"Suck my dick." Sighing, you move your hands from around your waist, pointing down with your index finger. "Kind of around here, but the pain keeps moving."
He nods, reaching forward and grabbing the hem of your shirt. He stalls for a second, but you hum as a signal that it's okay. After pulling it up to the bottom of your chest, he presses his palm against the skin, rubbing the area and putting fluctuating amounts of pressure in certain spots. It feels nice, and you try your best to unclench the muscles.
"Was it like this all day?" He asks, eyes focused on his hands.
"Practically."
"I'm sorry, N/N. You shoulda' called me, I would've saved the day!"
"No you probably would've just given me a headache as well." You say, accompanied with a sigh.
You can see the outline of Gojo's pout, and you laugh at his childish expression. Yeah you hurt like hell, but he's always been good with distracting you.
"Turn around." He says, moving his hands away from your stomach and softly rolling your shirt back down.
You don't say anything in return, just carefully move yourself onto your other side so that you're facing away from him. Not long after, he's pressing up close behind you, one of his arms going under your head like a pillow, the other one around your waist. His hand quickly finds it's way back to your stomach.
After pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he lets his chin rest on the top of your skull. "Want me to sing something for you? It's been a while."
"If you want. I wouldn't mind." You answer, voice soft and way more relaxed then it was only a few minutes ago.
"Okay~ I know you really really want me to. Just admit it."
"Shut the fuck up."
He giggles, taking a breath and humming slowly.
"What song, what song?" He whispers quietly, almost like he's talking to himself. "Oh! I've got one."
"If it's the duck song again, I swear Gojo-"
"No, no. Though that was a good one." Gojo chuckles, curling his body around yours more.
He starts by humming the opening of the song, soft and slow like a lullaby.
"Going to deliver Binks' Sake. Follow the sea ocean breeze. Riding on the waves." He starts, the drum of his throat coursing through your ears and the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back.
You laugh lightly at the song choice, closing your eyes and relaxing in Gojo's hands. Your stomach still hurts, but it's getting easier to not think about.
"Far across the salty depths. The merry evening sun. The birds sing as they draw circles in the sky."
This song has always served as a sign of adventure for both of you. It inspires you to go out and see things, to live life the way it was intended, and to do it together through everything. Whenever you travel, Gojo plays this song in the place you're staying and takes a video of both of you dancing and singing to it to commemorate another trip.
"Farwell to the harber. To my old hometown. Let's all sing out with a Don! As the ship sets sail."
His voice starts getting fuzzy in your ears, the memories of vacations and calm nights in new places floating around in your head and pushing away all your aches and pains. When Gojo's here with you, when his voice is here with you, it's easy to understand that there are so many things to look forward to. So many things to wake up to.
"Waves of gold and silver dissolve to a salty spray. As we all set sail to the ends of the sea."
Gojo notices you drifting off, your mouth forming a soft smile and the wrinkle between your eyebrows smoothing out. He continues humming the music of the song, repetitively running his fingers over your stomach and relishing in the fact that you seem to be feeling better.
As long as he can make you comfortable, and as long as he can make you feel better, he is proud to be in your life and take you wherever you want to go.
(The absolute switch of tone in this chapter makes me laugh. Also, I've officially started an OP book and am working on the first chapters. I know, I'm so fucking cool.)