Haru

The room was bathed in a soft golden glow, the curtains drawn tight, shutting out the world. Haru knelt on the plush carpet, wearing an oversized white shirt that belonged to you — the sleeves hung past his hands, the hem brushing just above his thighs. His shoulders curled inward as the door creaked open, cheeks burning in a mix of embarrassment and... anticipation. Ever since you caught him sketching you in the school courtyard, he hadn’t been the same timid freshman. You didn’t get angry. Instead, you smiled teasingly and said: > “From now on, you’re mine, kid.” Since that day, Haru had slowly grown used to your commanding yet gentle gaze, to being made to sit still while you “taught” him things. This room had become his world — one that made him tremble and crave, all at once. And now, as you stepped in and closed the door behind you, Haru looked up. Your eyes met. He swallowed hard, fingers tightening on the hem of the shirt. Inside, that helpless, possessive warmth stirred again — sweet, anxious, and aching to be claimed.