I'm Sorry, This Is The Funniest Thing I Have Seen All Day. I Have Tears In My Eyes. 🤣

Thanks for giving Megumi the finest gene

Here's your birthday cake 🎂

cat dad kento 🐈

new choso illustration by gege 💜

the purple theme and flowers choso is holding are so significant it represents admiration and honor but also that a death came too soon. purple was the perfect choice for him.

₊˚⊹。by expensive tiles and elite gym pools | gojo satoru

wc: 935

summary: you visit gojo during one of his training sessions for his upcoming swim meet.

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns stated, only gendered term is ‘boyfriend’ pertaining to gojo, swimmer!satoru, non-curse au

a/n: wrote this as a lil surprise blurb bday gift for @kedsandtubesocks (but it got longer than expected... oops) i know how much you love your sports aus erika!! also inspired by some swim!satoru thoughts i had a few days ago!

You hear a splash! the moment you enter the doors of the gym pool.

The lanes are empty save for one, vast crystal blue shimmering as it reflects the light passing through the glass ceiling. You don't know much about pool construction, but the tiles here look clean, with each edge perfectly cut to fit seamlessly into the other; the markings of luxury, expensive but simple enough not to distract—

—which is what you shouldn't be doing walking into this exclusive gym pool reserved only for the best of the best, the elite. Top tier professionals.

Ones like your gold-winning pro-swimmer boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.

He's approaching the end of his lap when you settle into a squat in front of the lane he’s on, towel hanging off your shoulders as you cross your arms over your knees, wiggling your toes as you wait. The moment he breaks through the surface, you can't hide the smile on your face.

You haven’t seen him in days. 

Everything about him feels like he was made for this—how the ripples make way to accommodate his breathing, the dips and curves of muscle on his shoulders, flexing; how his fingers glide his goggles atop his head without resistance, smoothly. Even with his hair held back by the elastic, the few wet clumps that fall out still frame his face so perfectly. 

It's unbelievable how your boyfriend can look so much like the water he swims in—brilliant and white like glimmers of reflected light, and clean blue, striking, always glistening the moment your eyes catch his. 

Sometimes, looking at him feels a lot like drowning.

"How did I do?" he smirks, squinting into what would have been a suave wink, if not for a drop of water causing an involuntary eye-twitch. 

He already knows the answer, but you indulge him anyway, "Good, as always."

"Just good?" he pouts.

There's a droplet of water hanging by his lips, desperately clinging as it trembles while he breathes. You know he knows you're looking by the way he runs his tongue over it, taunting. 

You narrow your gaze and shrug, teasing, "Maybe you missed something."

He swims closer to the ledge you're squatting by, palms pressing on tile to hoist himself up. You try not to fixate on the way his triceps flex as they hold him up, but he lives for this kind of attention from you—he’d do anything to keep you looking at him the way you do. 

Half of his left leg remains submerged when he settles himself on the edge of the pool, the other one bent as he tilts his head in mock wonder, “Did I?”

It's your turn to pout now as he pretends not to know what you’re after, and you're about to say something on it until—

"S'toru!"

—you scream, pulled off-balance with your heart nearly dropping to your stomach at the fear of being dragged into the water. Except you aren't, because with a simple tug at the towel around your neck, he's managed to tip you over to fall into his lap, steadying you against his very wet and very broad chest instead.  

You smack his shoulders, mouth agape and eyes wide as you push back to look at him. He looks pleased with himself, almost laughing even as his arms settle on your hips, grabbing the flesh and squeezing.

"Mean," you scrunch your nose, and he chuckles.

"Excuse me," he holds you closer, "who hurt my feelings first?"

You roll your eyes fondly, sliding your hands to clasp at the back of his neck, "Okay, big baby."

"Do you want your kiss or not?"

You glare at him, lips pursed tight, "As if you don't—"

So he does—kiss you, lips soft and a little damp. You can taste the chlorine from the hours he's already spent here prior to you coming, but it's comforting, a taste entirely too familiar that you sometimes find yourself looking for it during the long stretches he’s on break. 

He kisses you because you're right, something was missing, and it's always this same thing.

You smile against his lips before breaking away, heart gleaming like pool water. The moment is tender, soft, touched by the magic of being together amidst expensive tiles and elite gym pools.

But you should have known better than to trust your pro-swimmer boyfriend, Gojo Satoru—full-time athlete, and part-time the most insufferable person you’ve ever met.

Because with the way his arm has been wrapping itself inch-by-inch around your waist, he's managed to shift his body back to face the pool, only to dump the both of you back in the water, together.

"Satoru!"

He laughs, voice carrying throughout the gym. You grumble about still having your slippers on and he dives under to get it off you, throwing it to the side when he emerges. 

"Race me!" he ducks to the other lane, sliding his goggles back on before shooting you a thumbs up.

And you’d think this silly of him, really, because this is your back-to-back-to-back gold-winning pro-swimmer boyfriend asking you, a survival swimmer at best, to race him—but you can tell this is his cover for you. 

You’d get in trouble if anyone caught you here in the first place. His schedule's been tight lately, locked down with the need to focus for his upcoming swim meet. Being focused meant no distractions, and you being the worst of them all meant less time spent with you, too. 

Still, he'd insisted that you come today, so.

You can't technically be a distraction if you're going to 'train' with him anyway, right?

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

bokuto has the deepest, most perfect dimples when he smiles and i will DIE by this!!!

honk shoo 😴💤

NSFW version on x

LUCKY

satoru comes home quieter than usual.

wc: 276, slight angst but mostly fluff, gn reader, not proof read

there are days where satoru comes home dead silent.

the clock ticks towards the ungodly early morning hours as you fell the bed dips down beside you, stirring you up from your slumber. you subconsciously unravel your arms away from your boyfriends pillow, whining under your breath as you hear satoru whisper a honey-sweet apology for waking you up, his voice deep and quiet. a feather light kiss is placed on your temple as he replaces your pillow with his arm, bringing you closer to his body as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, quickly falling back asleep.

but just as your mind clouded with darkness once again, you couldn’t help but feel like something was bothering you.

whenever satoru comes home quietly without much to say, it always bothered you. most times, he would babble quietly about his mission as his fingers comb through your hair, massaging your scalps without giving a care if you were actually listening or not. but on rare times where the night would be silent, you were unable to hear his thoughts. as if he was reflecting on something — something he didn’t bother sharing with you. his lips sealed as crystal eyes stare off into the darkness.

and as much as you want to stay awake and poke at his troubled thoughts, you let it rest for tonight and consider yourself lucky.

lucky because today, satoru came home a little before four in the morning. lucky because he’ll get a little more rest than his usual three hours of sleep. lucky because satoru gojo has come home safely once again into your warm, sweet embrace.

like or rb if u save.

📬 🍜 キスさせて . . (>_★) [REQ]