i choose you every time

The white-haired one.

You hadn’t caught his name; somehow it never came up, but you clocked him the moment you stepped off the shuttle and into the airy lobby. He was tall, toned, and unfairly attractive in that model kind of way, with a lopsided smile that could probably bankrupt you if he wanted. He worked the beachside part of the resort—bartending, towel service, checking on guests. There was something playful and aloof in the way he lingered when he spoke to you, something that made your stomach dip…and not just from the endless margaritas.

You’d tried to keep it subtle—your wandering glances, your slightly suggestive thank-you’s. But the truth was, the moment your hormones got wind of the proximity of that man and this heat? Your body went rogue. Nothing wrong with a vacay fling, even if it was probably one-sided. 

Now here you were, two days into your stay, half-sprawled across a cushioned lounge chair, letting the sun toast your skin while lazily pretending to read the same page of your romance novel over and over.

You reapplied sunscreen to your arms, the bottle sticky in your hand. You could feel the heat radiating off your back, reminding you how long you’d been lying here. Just as you were debating whether to brave the awkward gymnastics of doing your own back, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention.

There he was. Perfect timing!

“Hey!” you called out, lifting your sunglasses with one hand to get a better look at him. The sight was even more rewarding than usual. His white hair looked almost silver under the sun, and the short-sleeved white uniform he wore did absolutely nothing to hide the strength in his arms.

He turned his head and gave you a soft grin, walking over.

“Everything alright?” he asked, eyes sliding briefly to the book in your lap and then back to your face.

“I was wondering,” you said, shaking the bottle of sunscreen, “if you could help me rub the rest of this in? I can never get my back properly.”

He took the bottle from your hand without hesitation, fingers brushing yours. “Of course,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smile. “That’s what I’m here for, right?”

Turning over on the chaise, you shifted your head to the side so you could peek at him, not so discreetly. The side cushion was more comfortable anyway, two birds with one stone. 

The first touch sent a small jolt up your spine. His hands were cool, slick with lotion, but they warmed quickly against your sun-drenched skin. He started with your shoulders, working the lotion in slow, broad strokes—palms gliding, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. You didn’t expect his touch to be so intimate. Not inappropriate, just lingering. Familiar, almost.

“Oh wait,” you murmured, reaching behind to fumble with the knot at your back. “I should untie this.” Your nails scraped together as you struggled with the slick strings. He was already moving closer.

“Let me,” he offered, voice low and steady. And with one simple tug, the knot fell loose. The straps dropped harmlessly to your sides.

“Thanks,” you said softly. 

He didn’t respond with words, just continued his careful work, hands now gliding lower. Down your shoulder blades. Across the curve of your spine. The silence between you buzzed with something more than just shared air. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting yourself lean into the sensation. His hands were strong but considerate, slightly calloused, probably from working with his hands all day. They lingered on the small of your back, thumbs grazing the top of your hips in teasing, circular motions. “Lower,” you mumbled, surprised at how hoarse your voice sounded. He hummed a little, maybe satisfied with the praise or maybe just enjoying himself. Either way, you weren’t mad.

“Right here?” he asked, as his hands moved lower, massaging the top of your glutes. His thumbs flirted with the edges of your bikini bottoms, and your legs instinctively pressed together.

Your breath hitched. “Yeah…there.”

He stayed there a beat longer than necessary. Maybe two.

You bit your lip, half-turning your head. “You always give this kind of service?” he chuckled, still focused on your glowing skin. 

“Only to my favorites.” 

“Mmm, keep going,” you smiled. “So thoughtful.” He did. Down your back, over your sides. His palms were warm now, smoothing over you like he was trying to memorize something. You arched a little, involuntarily, and you knew he caught it.

The pads of his thumbs grazed your lower back, flirting with the curve of your hips, inching close to the bottom of your swimsuit.

Your voice came out softer this time. “A little lower.”

He didn’t speak. Just adjusted his position, the heat of him is closer now. His hands slipped just low enough to make you hold your breath, sliding over the round of your ass in one slow, full stroke.

You felt the corner of his mouth tilt. “You like that?”

Your breath caught. “Don’t play.”

“Who’s playing?” His hands didn’t stop. He massaged like he meant, like he wanted to see how far you’d let him go without pulling away.

You stayed still. Mostly.

“Is this allowed?” you whispered, more to yourself.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he smirked, fingers trailing slowly up your side, grazing just under your ribs. You could feel your pulse between your thighs, your body aching in that low, hormonal way you hadn’t felt in ages. You hadn’t expected to want someone so bad on this trip—and definitely not someone who was supposed to be off-limits.

His hands found the strings of your bikini bottoms and untied the strings, his eyes never leaving yours. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t stop him. He kissed down your spine, the curve of your waist, your hip. Every motion unhurried, each one stretching seconds longer than the last.

Pulling you by your hips up onto your knees on the lounge, one of your legs dangling off. He peeled the bikini bottom off, dipping in between your thighs. The moment his mouth met your heated skin, a shudder ripped through you, your fingers twisting into the cushioned lounger beneath you. His tongue was relentless, lapping at your slick with a hunger that made your thighs tremble. The sound of him, wet, obscene, greedy— sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you, your back arching instinctively, seeking more.

"Fuck" you gasped, your voice breaking as his lips sealed around your clit, sucking hard enough to make your vision blur. His hands, those damn hands, slid under your hips, gripping hard, yanking you closer until his nose brushed against your sensitive skin, his breath hot and uneven against you.

He didn't just taste you, he devoured you. His fingers twitched with restraint. Now, nothing was holding him back. His tongue dragged slow, torturous circles around your clit before flattening against it, pressing down just enough to make you see stars.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmured against you, the vibrations sending a jolt straight to your core. The fact that he thought about it made you impossibly wetter. His fingers dug into your thighs, spreading you wider, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh there, leaving little marks you'd feel later. “I could tell you wanted this since day one.” 

You couldn't deny it, not when your body was reacting like this, not when every flick of his tongue had your legs shaking, your breath coming in ragged pants. The sun beat down on your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat pooling low in your stomach, tightening with every sinful stroke of his tongue. 

Then his fingers joined, two slipping inside you without warning, curling just right, and you whined, your hands gripping the pillow. He groaned against you, the sound muffled but unmistakable; he liked that. Liked how responsive you were, how easily you came apart for him.

"That's it," he coaxed, his voice rough, his lips brushing against your clit as he spoke. "Let me hear you. Let me feel how much you love this." 

And you did. You couldn't stop the noises spilling from your lips, the broken "yes, yes, fuck" as his fingers pumped into you, his thumb circling your clit in tight, relentless motions.

The pleasure built so fast it was dizzying, your body coiling tighter and tighter until you came with a cry. Your thighs shaking, your toes curling as the orgasm tore through you. He didn't let up, didn't give you a second to recover— just kept licking, kept fucking you with his fingers. Drawing out every last shuddering wave until you were gasping, oversensitive, your hands pushing weakly at his head.

"Too much!" you whimpered, but he only chuckled, pressing one last, filthy kiss to your inner thigh before pulling back, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

"Can't get enough baby," he murmured, dragging his thumb through your slick one last time before bringing it to his mouth, sucking it clean with a smirk. "Not when you taste this good."

Your chest heaved, your skin flushed and sticky with sweat and sunscreen and him. You should've been embarrassed, should've been scrambling to cover yourself, to regain some semblance of dignity. But all you could do was stare at him. 

The moment his fingers slipped out of you, you felt the loss like a physical ache, your body clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled again. His smirk was downright sinful as he licked his lips, dragging the flat of his tongue over his bottom lip like he was savoring the last drop of you. The sight sent a fresh pulse of heat between your thighs, your skin prickling with the need to have him closer, to feel more.

"Turn over," he directed, voice rough, his hands already guiding your hips before you could process the command. Your body obeyed before your mind caught up, rolling onto your back, the lounger creaking beneath you. The sun blazed overhead, but all you could focus on was the way his gaze raked over you. Your chest rising and falling rapidly, your nipples pebbled under the fabric of your bikini top, holding it in so it wouldn't fall. The mess he'd made between your thighs glistened under the sunlight.

He tugged your bikini top down slowly, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he bared you completely. The breeze ghosted over your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his mouth when he leaned down, sealing his lips around one peaked bud. You gasped, back arching off the lounger, your fingers tangling in his hair, soft, surprisingly silken. He sucked hard, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak in torturous little circles.

"You're such a tease," you groaned, your hips lifting off the cushion, seeking friction, seeking him.

He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations making you squirm. "Impatient," he teased, his free hand sliding down your stomach, fingers dipping between your folds without hesitation. You were so wet, so swollen. His fingers slid through your slick with obscene ease, gathering it before dragging his fingertips in slow, maddening circles around your clit.

"You're dripping," he groaned, his voice thick with want. "All for me, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, your breath hitching as his fingers pressed harder. His touch is just shy of rough, just enough to make your thighs tremble. His mouth moved to your other nipple, teeth grazing the peak before sucking it deep, his fingers never stopping. 

"Please," you finally choked out, your voice wrecked. Not really one to beg, but it seems he brought out many new things about you. 

"Please what?" he grinned, pulling back just enough to watch your face as his fingers slid lower, dipping inside you just barely—just the tips, curling enough to make your hips jerk.

"I want you, don't wanna wait.” 

His grin was wolfish. "Since you asked so nicely," you hadn't noticed his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing how ripped he was under the button-up shirt. You heard the sound of his zipper, the rustle of fabric. “It's Satoru, by the way.” 

Oh god.

The blunt head of his cock nudged against your entrance, and you whimpered, pushing back against him instinctively. "Eager," he teased, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed forward, his cock stretching you open in one slow, relentless thrust.

You choked on a moan, your fingers clawing at the cushion beneath you as he bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass. He was huge, thick, pulsing inside you, filling you completely.

"Fuck," he hissed, his voice strained. "You're so tight." He didn't give you time to adjust, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, the force of it driving you forward, your hands pressed against the chest and the back of the chair for leverage. You cried out, the pleasure so intense, your walls fluttering around him as he set a brutal pace. His hips snapping against yours with every thrust, hitting your sweet spot deliciously as you cried his name.

"Look at you," he growled, one hand fisting in your ass, gripping just enough to make your back arch. "Taking me so fucking good. Bet you'll remember my name now."

You could only moan, your words lost in the haze of pleasure, your body moving with his, meeting every thrust with a roll of your hips. His hand gripped your thigh, his other hand sliding around to your front, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, fast circles.

The double stimulation was too much; your orgasm built again, faster this time, your body coiling tighter and tighter. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough, his thrusts growing erratic.

You shattered.

Your climax hit you like a freight train, your body clamping down on him as pleasure exploded through you, your cries muffled against the lounger. He fucked you through it, wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Where do you want it, baby?” 

“I-inside!”

He let out a low moan, his own release hitting him hard. His hips stuttering, cock pulsing inside you as he came with a groan, his fingers digging into your skin as he filled you, hot and deep. 

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the distant crash of waves. Then he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, "Still think I'm just here for towels and massages?"

You laughed, breathless and spent, your body still thrumming with pleasure. "Best. Massage. Ever."

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling out, the loss of him making you whimper. "Good," he said, his voice smug. "Because we're far from done."

━━

Being back at work after your vacation was a change. Looking out the large window, you reminisced about the villa, and especially your little fling. The entire trio, he would come and eat you out till you cried whenever he found you, be it on the window reader or by the door if he was particularly impatient. And fuck you into whatever surface was nearest. 

God, you missed him. 

It's been 8 months since your short but sweet vacation. You debated giving him your number, but by the time you were packing up and checking out, he was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully the next time you visited he would be there as well, until then you would continue life like you hadn't lost the best dick and head you've had. 

Although you spent most of your time working, you did try to make time with your friends and go out on the weekends you were free. Downtown was your hotspot, especially the clubs, the best you've ever been to; lucky you were cool enough with the bouncers to get in free.

The music was good and the drinks were better. Tending your sweet cocktail, you enjoyed the buzz you were getting. Thankfully, you weren't the one driving tonight; however, next week, you were back on duty. 

Realizing you finished your drink, you started to find your friends dancing up against the other groups of people on the floor. Over all the heads of people, your eyes caught one single head of white hair. Your heart stuttered as you walked towards them, pushing past tipsy dancers. 

It couldn't be him, but you couldn't help but check. Fixing your hair, making sure there weren't any strange pieces around your face that shouldn't be. The height alone was a dead giveaway; not many guys were over 6 feet with white hair, even with dim lighting, you had a gut feeling that it was him. 

Tapping his shoulder, ready to see a stranger's face and not the face that's been appearing in your late-night fantasies. Bracing for disappointment, you started preparing an apology. 

Your name fell from familiar lips, the way he said it sent a shiver up your spine. You stared in shock, and he gave you a tight hug, kissing you on the cheek. 

“It really is you.” you hugged back, breathing in the scent you'd dreamt of. He laughed, pulling you by the waist to his side. He started introducing you to his friends, explaining he was on vacation, even taking you to their booth. Both of you clicked like you hadn't seen each other in almost a year. 

Your leg kicker up over his, letting his hands twirl your hair in his fingers. Leaning down toward your ear, moving the hair away from it, kissing the sides. You decided to ask the question sitting in the back of your mind. “How long are you here for?”

“A week,” he smirked, looking at your face, cerulean eyes peeking from those gorgeous white lashes. You were familiar with that glint in his eye, the way they twinkled put you under a trance. 

“Are you going to leave without a goodbye this time?” 

“I’m sorry about that, baby. Can you forgive me?” he smiled against your hand, kissing it. “Might not want to leave.” 

He's lucky you're forgiving.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀volleyballer satoru is instantly captivated by you — the team's outside hitter who seems to have a massive fire burning deep inside you. you're incredibly aggressive, nothing like he's ever seen before（even daring to give sukuna, their libero, a run for his money!）each time you spike, the ball hits the ground with a thud that echoes across the whole court, so loud that he swears he can feel the vibrations from the impact inside his body.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓏲ּꪆ ࿐ throughout the rest of the match, he only has eyes for you. watching the way you smash the ball on the court with such ferocity and screaming so boisterously at every win; the way you're hyping up all your teammates with this aggressiveness that comes off as intimidating to the opponents but not to your team who are just as riled up as you are; the way your eyes are blazing with this fire that can even be felt all the way from the stands where he sits. he is so taken with you from that day forward.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀volleyballer satoru keeps sneaking peeks of you in practice. and you are just as much of a beast in practice as you are in a match. he found out that you're the captain just like he is and despite your aggressive playing style, you are an incredibly supportive leader. sure, you scold them when they make a mistake or if someone is slacking off but it's always followed up with advice and constructive feedback. he just feels himself admiring you more and more with each passing day.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀volleyballer satoru finally plucks up the courage one day to talk to you after your practice. he's been peeking for so long, he's practically got your team's routine and practice timings memorised. he waits until you walk out of the gym, waving goodbye to your friends and so he thinks this is the perfect time to approach you！

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓏲ּꪆ ࿐ "hiya." he greets you with that sweet smile of his. and honestly, he'd been preparing himself for you to be rather boyish or brash with him, considering your playing style on the court. but this wasn't at all what he was expecting . .

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓏲ּꪆ ࿐ your eyes go slightly wide as he stands in front of you, like a deer in headlights. he sees you clutching on to your bag a little bit tigher as you say in a soft voice, "hiya."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀volleyballer satoru feels his heart flutter upon hearing your voice — so soft, so shy, and so sweet. nothing like he'd expected. a sweet girl like you that looks like she's going to massacre her opponents on the court? who spikes the ball so hard, there is a possibility it could explode from the sheer impact? yeah . . he wasn't expecting this at all but he just feels himself falling for you tenfold.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓏲ּꪆ ࿐ "i saw your match the other day." he leans against the pillar, trying to act all cool and sauve though it's just a rouse to hide the fact that he feels like his knees feel like jello right now. "i thought you were super cool. you're a scary player . . in a good way, of course!" he mentally face palms himself at that.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓏲ּꪆ ࿐ "oh, thank you." you smile at him, so cute and so kind. he prays his legs don't give out on him. "well . ." he clears his throat as he tries to find the proper words. "i think you're really cool. super pretty too," his cheeks flush when he says that, now avoiding eye contact with you. "so i was hoping if it'd be alright with you if we hung out sometime."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓏲ּꪆ ࿐ you're quiet for a few moments, blinking up at him in shock. like he'd said something utterly ridiculous. oh gosh, he feels like a total idiot now — maybe you were already dating someone! i mean, how could you not be? or maybe you think he's a total creep for coming up to you like this? maybe he should have done this differently? before he lets his thoughts consume him, you reply softly, ". . like a date?"

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𓏲ּꪆ ࿐ you're batting your lashes at him so prettily, a shy expression on your face. he clutches his shirt in an attempts to slow down his beating heart, but that's impossible when you look so cute! "if that's okay with you." he says, holding out his phone for you so that you can put your number in. and you take it, putting in your number and saving yourself in his contacts with a cute ">__<" besides your name.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀volleyballer satoru does his best to keep his composure as you walk away, waving at him shyly as you go and reunite with your friends who seem to have been watching the whole thing unfold. he hears you giggling along with them, catching one more look at him before you leave with them. he finally lets him fall to the ground, clutching his heart as his face flushes a bright pink. oh man, you were already making him feel so giddy!

you clench around him on purpose.

he chokes. full-body shuddering. “a-ah! don’t—don’t do that yet, please, i’ll—shit, i’ll cum too fast”

“already?” you whisper. “come on, let me enjoy this a little…” you pout, looking down at him, biting your lip. you move your hips back and forth, moaning softly, “you’re so big, gojo… stretching me so sweet”

he groans, long and wrecked, arms wrapping around your waist to yank you flush against his chest. Face buried in your neck like he’s hiding. “fuck, don’t say it like that —” his voice cracks on the last word, and then he’s mumbling against your skin, hot and frantic. “you’re so warm— so fucking wet… I can’t think straight when you’re on me like this… please don’t stop, baby, please”

you start moving again. slow grinds, little circles now and then. nothing otherworldy. but he’s already babbling.

“s’too fucking good— love how you squeeze me, love how you, ah, ride me, fuck, i’m yours, i’m so fucking yours—” his hands roam everywhere: up your back, down to grip your ass, then back up to cradle your face so he can kiss you. messy and needy. “don’t you dare leave after, ‘kay? i’ll— shit—i’ll do whatever, baby, please…”

you pick up the pace just a little and his whole body buzzes, thighs trembling under you.

“g’nna cum—baby, ‘m gonna—fuck, i can’t hold it—” he sounds panicked, like he’s actually fighting his own orgasm because he doesn’t want it to end.

you lean close — once you’re close to come as well — to whisper right against his ear: “then cum for me, gojo. make me feel good”

that does it for him.

his eyes snap wide— pupils blown, lashes wet, and he comes with a long, shaking moan that cracks into your name. hips stuttering, arms crushing you to his chest, spilling inside you like he’s never going to stop. “fuck—love you, love this pussy-“

when the aftershocks finally fade, he doesn’t push you off. doesn’t roll over and grab his phone like the rumors say he does.

instead he flips you gently so you’re tucked against him, still buried deep. long limbs cage you in. his face smushed between your tits. he’s breathing hard, like he just ran a whole marathon.

you card fingers through his damp hair. “that was something.”

he huffs a laugh, embarrassed. “don’t you ever say a word about this” he mutters, “i’d be dead if you do.”

is this the same guy who was bragging downstairs about never catching feelings and fucking left and right?