౨𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍ৎ

»Man, you seriously have no idea what you’re talking about!«

» Oh, but you do?!« your brother fired back, completely scandalized, still in his football jersey like he’d just walked off the field and into the drama.

You crossed your arms and gave him the most unimpressed look you could muster. » You literally run after a ball just to kick it away again. That’s the whole sport.«

»And you—!«

»And I what?« you interrupted, raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head back with a dramatic groan.

» And you get on my nerves!« he huffed, as if that was the ultimate comeback.

A smug little smile spread across your face, like you’d just won a gold medal in sibling arguments.

» Oh please, you just run around in a circle and flap your arms like a confused bird.«

» And you run in a square!« you shot back without hesitation.

» Football is so lame« you muttered, turning your head away like you were so done with this conversation.

You didn’t see it, but Chigiri gave you that annoyingly confident smile — the one that meant he was about to rub in his win.

» And yet« he said calmly, »more people care about football than about track and field.«

» Yeah, because everyone has terrible taste.« you replied, trying to hold your ground.

Chigiri let out a short, amused laugh. » Yeah. That must be it.«

You sighed in defeat, shoulders slumping. » There’s no point arguing with you. You’re too stubborn to admit that I’m right.«

You glanced at him — he was already looking at you like you’d personally offended his entire existence.

» You’d never be able to play football as well as I do.« he said, finally kicking off his cleats.

He’d just gotten back from training, still wearing his sweat-soaked gear like it was a badge of honor.

» Good thing I don’t want to.« you shrugged. » You can’t even show off with football.«

» You seriously don’t know what you’re missing.« your brother said, completely convinced that football was the best thing this world had to offer.

» And you don’t know what you’re doing to yourself. You’ll realize it one day — when you’re finally free from football.«

Chigiri laughed and wandered off toward the living room, like you hadn’t just said something revolutionary. Naturally, you followed.

Sure, you two argued constantly and threw around petty insults like it was a sport of its own — but at the end of the day, you were siblings. And somehow, that made everything okay.

» Free from football?« he echoed, turning to look at you like you’d grown a second head.

You nodded. » Yeah. You heard me, Number Four.«

He looked at you like you were speaking a language only weird little siblings understood.

» Hope your track-star lungs don’t give out from all the trash you talk« he muttered as he flopped onto the couch.

You laughed despite yourself. » That’s actually insane to say.«

Chigiri just shrugged, calm as ever — the king of unbothered.

© 2025 shinyac0re ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

»It feels like a never-ending loop «, you murmur, reaching into your bag. Your fingers close around the cold bottle of disinfectant, and without hesitation, you pour a generous amount into your palms.

The sharp scent rises immediately—biting, sterile, unforgiving.

It clings to the air like memory, like something you’ve done too many times before.

Ren says nothing.

He doesn’t even look at you. His gaze stays fixed somewhere off to the side, like he’s trying to detach himself from the moment—maybe from you too. His silence is a barrier, stretched thin but still intact, while you kneel quietly in front of him.

»I never asked you to do this «, he mutters eventually, pulling off his headphones and pushing his pale hair back with one hand. His voice is low, almost drowned by the wind.

The rooftop is silent otherwise. Just the two of you, framed by golden sunlight and the distant hum of life below. The breeze brushes past your skin in intervals—fleeting and cool, like time reminding you it’s still passing.

A slow smile tugs at your lips at his words. Not amused. More like… resigned.

»And yet «, you murmur, »you don’t stop me.«

You reach for a cotton pad, wet it with antiseptic, and tilt his face toward you. His skin is warm beneath your fingers—softer than you’d expected, even bruised. Your touch is careful. Focused. Like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

Maybe you have.

You clean the wound on his right cheek first, then move on to the gash above his brow. Your fingers are steady, but your heart isn’t. Not completely.

The intimacy of it never gets easier.

»I don’t get it «, you say quietly, your voice almost lost to the wind. »Why you all keep doing this. Throwing yourselves into fights like it’s a game—like it means nothing to come back with blood on your face.«

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.

»Wounds heal,« he says flatly, his tone mechanical. Lifeless.

Your lips twitch, a quiet bitterness creeping in.

»Not all of them «, you reply, pressing a bandage gently to his cheek. »Some stay. You just learn to live around them.«

You reach for the soothing ointment next, dabbing a small amount onto your fingertip before leaning in. Your hand hovers for a second, just a moment too long—hesitating at the edge of his lip.

Then you touch him. Soft. Precise.

His lips part slightly under your finger, the swollen curve warm against your skin.

Despite yourself, your breath catches.

He doesn’t look away.

He watches you—closely. There’s something unreadable in his eyes. But it’s there. The way he leans into your touch, just barely. The way his gaze lingers, like he’s trying to memorize this.

»What’s with the deep quotes?« he asks suddenly, scoffing—but the bite in his voice doesn’t quite land. »You talk like I’m some pathetic little boy.«

There’s something beneath the words. A fear. Like he’s bracing for confirmation.

Like he needs you to say he’s wrong.

And you understand. Too well.

Because that’s the one thing he could never bear to be in your eyes.

A kid. Weak. Someone who needed protection.

But the truth is—he’d never looked like that to you. Not even once.

You pull back slightly, eyes meeting his.

»That’s not how I see you«, you say quietly. And you mean it. Every word. Every pause in between.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at the horizon like he’s searching for something out there—something safer than the way you’re looking at him now.

Then, barely above a whisper:

»You treat me like I am.«

His tone is different this time. Not angry. Just… tired. And maybe a little hurt.

And the worst part?

Maybe he’s not wrong.

Every time he showed up bruised and bleeding, you were the one who fixed him up. You’d clean the cuts. Bandage the wounds. Scold him. Lecture him. Tell him not to get hurt again. You made it a routine—so habitual it started to feel like a role.

But that wasn’t all it was.

It was your way of loving people.

Quietly. Gently. In the ways that didn’t ask for anything in return.

You weren’t even a student at Furin. Your connection was Hiragi—a childhood friend, the kind who never really left your life. You’d known him forever. He trusted you. So when he asked you to look after the others…

That’s how you met Ren.

And somewhere along the way, he became the one you looked after most.

You zip up your bag, letting your fingers rest for a moment on the cool fabric before settling beside him—close enough to feel the heat of his arm against yours. The silence stretches between you, but not uncomfortably.

»I never saw you as a little brother«, you say finally, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. »Just… as Ren Kaji. The guy with headphones so loud, the whole school hears his playlist.« A soft smile on your lips.

He doesn’t smile back. Not yet. But something in him unclenches. Just a little.

What he doesn’t let you see—what he can’t let you see—is the way his heart stumbles at your words.

Like maybe… maybe you’ve been seeing him all along.

You lean your head back against the wall, eyes closing for a second. The sun burns against your skin, and the breeze brushes your hair into your face.

»You only get the lectures because I care «, your voice comes softer now, almost uncertain. »Because I don’t want to keep seeing you like this.«

Ren swallows.

He wants to say something. Something that would make you understand what that means to him.

But the words catch—tangled between everything he wants and everything he’s afraid to lose.

So instead, he just sits there. Close enough to feel you breathing.

And hopes you’ll stay.

For a moment, there’s silence. Heavy, uncertain. You’re not sure if you said something wrong—and for a second, you regret it. You didn’t want to upset him.

You liked Ren.

But the fear clung to you, quiet and persistent. That maybe, just maybe… he saw you as too old.

Just like he feared you might see him as a little brother, a part of you feared he saw you as an older sister. Something safe. Something distant.

You inhale—slow, deep—searching for the right words before they fall off your tongue in the wrong order.

»I like you, Ren.«

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you hold your breath. Your pulse spikes, wild and frantic. You had meant to say more, so much more—but your mind blanks, like someone swept all the thoughts away in a second. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Then something brushes against your hand.

Warm. Soft. Familiar.

You don’t dare look down—afraid that if you do, he’ll pull away. But he doesn’t.

So you glance.

His hand is resting just over yours. Not holding it. Not quite. Just… there. Like a quiet shield. Like he’s hiding from something.

He doesn’t look at you—his gaze fixed straight ahead, unreadable. Distant.

Still, a small smile forms on your lips. You curl your fingers around his, tentative and slow—and it doesn’t take long before you feel him return the pressure.

A single squeeze.

Like a silent reply to your words. Like he heard you. And wanted you to know.

That fear—that maybe you were too much, too old—fades. Without him saying a single word.

He didn’t have to.

There were no explanations needed between you.

Because sometimes… the way someone stays says more than anything they could ever say.

© 2025 shinyac0re ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

It was already past midnight when the door creaked open and the light flicked on.

Slowly, you stirred awake, rolling over to the other side as your tired eyes blinked open. Through the dim light, you saw Aki walking toward the wardrobe.

His tie hung loose around his broad shoulders, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest.

You watched him quietly as he began to undress—unhurried, almost absentminded.

»Didn’t mean to wake you,« he said when he noticed you looking. A faint smile curved on his lips.

»It’s okay,« you murmured sleepily, your voice soft and hoarse.

»Long night?« you asked as you stretched your arms and slowly pushed yourself up.

»Too long,« he muttered, fingers working on his belt, the soft clink of metal echoing through the quiet room.

He slid off his pants, leaving him in nothing but dark boxers, his frame tall and toned in the dim light.

You couldn’t deny the way your body reacted—warmth pooling deep within, quiet and undeniable.

Without thinking, you shifted under the covers, pressing your legs together instinctively.

»Come here,« you said gently, lifting the blanket in invitation.

You revealed the soft pink of your sleepwear—a simple top with thin straps and a matching slip. His eyes lingered for only a second before he grinned.

»Gladly.«

He switched off the light, and the room was swallowed in darkness, save for the silver glow of the moon slipping through the curtains.

Aki climbed into bed beside you, but almost immediately braced himself above you, one arm pressed to the mattress as he leaned down. His lips found yours, tasting of cigarettes and the night air.

You sighed into him, your body melting beneath his, and when his knee slid between your thighs, you parted them without thinking.

»Aki…« you breathed, heat blooming in your chest and rushing low in your stomach.

His hands moved under your top, fingertips brushing over your skin, slow and careful as if memorizing the lines of you.

His touch wasn’t rushed—it was deliberate, reverent. And his mouth never left yours, catching every sound, every breath.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close, unwilling to let the space between you return. Your hips shifted instinctively, chasing the tension building inside you—until he paused.

His lips curved into a teasing grin.

»So eager, huh?«

You didn’t answer with words, just a breathy whimper that said everything.

Aki kissed his way down your throat, slow and warm, lifting your top as he went. He trailed down between your breasts, over your stomach, until his lips reached just above the edge of your underwear.

You arched toward him, body aching, skin sensitive under his breath. His hands slid to your hips, fingers hooking into the fabric of your slip to tug it down. He discarded it somewhere across the room before wrapping his arms around your thighs and settling between them.

You gasped softly as his mouth found your skin, as he touched you like you were something sacred. Every move was unhurried—focused. You felt like the center of his world.

And just when your body was unraveling—just when your mind started to blur—he stopped.

You whimpered at the sudden loss of warmth, watching as he sat back and slid out of his boxers. Moonlight glinted across his skin, his chest rising and falling steadily as he looked down at you—desire carved deep into every line of his face.

»If you only knew how you looked right now,« he muttered, pulling you closer until your hips met.

He didn’t rush. Not yet. His fingers returned to your skin, teasing, guiding, preparing you with quiet care. Then he looked into your eyes—waiting for permission.

You gave it with a nod.

But he didnt move right away.

Instead, his gaze darkened as he looked down at you, his hand moving between your thighs once more. Then, without a word, he leaned forward—and you felt the warm slickness of his spit land against your center.

You gasped at the sensation, hips twitching instinctively.

His fingers moved again, spreading the wetness over your swollen skin with slow, purposeful strokes. He took his time—two fingers dragging through your heat, rubbing gentle circles as if he was preparing you all over again.

It was messy. Intimate. And it only made you want him more.

Then he wrapped his hand around himself, spreading the slick over his length, coating every inch with the same care he gave you. The sight alone stole your breath.

His eyes lifted to yours again—checking, waiting, again—and when you gave him a single, trembling nod, he finally pressed inside you.

Barely a breath passed before you felt him—his tip pressing against your entrance. He didn’t push all the way in. Not yet. Just the slightest pressure, enough to make your thighs tense, your fingers curl into the sheets.

A shaky breath escaped your lips.

He leaned down, lips brushing your temple, and murmured,

» Fuuuck your so thight «

And then—slowly, carefully—he began to sink into you.

The stretch was overwhelming, filling, almost too much—but it was him. Every inch, every slow thrust forward felt like gravity pulling you into something you’d already longed for. Your body arched beneath him, mouth parting in a silent cry as he filled you completely.

He groaned low, the sound raw, as if it had been ripped from his throat.

» Fuck « he breathed. » You feel… unreal.«

And then he moved with purpose. Slow at first, adjusting, grounding himself in the feeling of you. His grip on your thighs tightened, his rhythm deepening with every motion. You clung to the sheets, searching for something solid to hold onto, something to tether you.

»God,« you gasped, voice trembling.

»You feel—«

But words failed you.

His name left your mouth again and again, each time softer, more desperate.

The heat built fast, curling through your stomach and sparking fire beneath your skin. You felt it coming—rising, crashing, until it took over everything.

Aki kept moving through it, grounding you in the chaos, anchoring you with the warmth of his body. Until finally, with a low groan, he followed—his body tensing, a shudder rolling through him as he spilled into you, and the world seemed to pause.

» Fuck Y/n! «

For a moment, all that remained was breath.

Then he collapsed beside you, chest heaving, and pulled you into his arms without hesitation.

A kiss to your forehead. A quiet exhale.

And the softest whisper:

»I love you.«

© 2025 shinyac0re ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

Friday. Finally the last day of school — and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel happy.

The entire week had been exhausting. Exams, quizzes, endless things to study for. It was your final year, and you knew you had to give it your all.

You hadn’t seen Umemiya once this week. He’d been just as busy with Furin as you had been with your studies and schoolwork.

Sure, you talked on the phone every night and texted each other throughout the day, but it just wasn’t the same. Not the same as lying in bed next to him. Not the same as being in his arms — that warm, familiar place where you always felt so safe. Protected. Home.

Tomorrow, you would finally see him again. And all you wanted was for this day to be over.

Just a few more hours of school to survive, and then you’d be home in your room, calling Umemiya.

And without a doubt, he’d tell you how proud he was of his plants — especially the tomatoes. How well they were growing, without any issues at all. And all of that on their school rooftop.

You could already picture it: the way he’d smile as he talked, that little spark in his eyes, so full of joy and pride. You’d listen closely, smiling to yourself, completely drawn into the way he spoke about something so simple with such deep affection.

It was early in the morning when you dragged your tired feet through the school corridors. One hand gripping the strap of your bag, you headed toward your classroom, which was already filled with loud voices despite the early hour.

You walked to your seat, set your bag down, and sat — only for your eyes to fall on something resting on your desk.

A small piece of paper, neatly folded.

Your gaze briefly wandered across the room, but none of your classmates looked like they had just placed it there. No suspicious glances, no smug grins.

Curious, you reached for it and unfolded the first flap — then the second.

And your heart skipped a beat.

You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere. Just a little unsteady, like the pen had been pressed a bit too hard against the paper. Imperfect, and yet perfect in the way only his handwriting could be.

There were only three words written.

But the person who wrote them meant the world to you.

“I love you.”

Nothing more, nothing less. Just those three simple words on a white piece of paper. And still — your heart felt like it might burst from the sudden rush of emotion.

© 2025 shinyac0re ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

He sat in front of you, legs spread wide on the couch, his hand tangled in your hair, your strands falling like silk across his bare thighs.

»Fuck, if only you could see yourself.« Togame’s voice was rough, low, thick with arousal.

His green eyes were darker than usual, almost black in the dim light, his long dark hair braided back, the glasses he’d worn all day now lying forgotten beside him. He looked wrecked and breathtaking—fresh from a long day of work and an evening out with Chōji, still half-dressed in a black button-down shirt and dark suit pants that clung to his long legs like sin.

You’d waited for him to come home. Wanted—no, needed—to make him feel good. Especially

looking like that.

Your hands trailed slowly up his thighs, fingertips brushing the skin just above the waistband of his pants, grazing over the ridges of his toned abdomen. You felt the way his muscles tightened under your touch, a low hiss escaping his lips as you pushed the shirt aside to explore more of him.

He didn’t take his eyes off you. Not even for a second.

His gaze pinned you in place—hungry, possessive, warm.

You let your hand slide lower, fingers curling around his cock—thick, heavy, already so hard for you. The weight of him in your palm made

your breath hitch.

You wet your lips, moved closer. Togame tightened his grip in your hair, wrapping the strands slowly around his fingers like he owned them.

»Relax your jaw.« he murmured, voice barely a breath.

And then your lips were around him, warm and soft and open. You took him in slowly, deeper, until you could feel the pressure at the back of your throat.

Your hand worked what your mouth couldn’t reach, moving in rhythm with the slow, wet pull of your tongue and lips.

»Goddamn.« he groaned, tugging on your hair just enough to make you gasp.

» You’re so fucking good at this. You can take more, yeah?«

You pushed yourself, inch by inch, swallowing around him until tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Your tongue swirled around him, your fingers tightening slightly at the base. Every sound he made vibrated through your chest like a reward.

»Fuck, Y/n.« he gasped your name like it was the only thing grounding him. His head tipped back, neck tense, throat exposed.

Then suddenly, he stood—pulling you with him until you were kneeling again, this time with his body towering over you.

Your hands rested gently on his thighs, fingers splayed protectively, bracing yourself.

»Can I fuck your pretty mouth?« he asked, but the way his hand tightened in your hair said he already knew the answer.

You looked up at him, lips swollen, eyes glossy, and nodded.

He groaned—low and deep—and rocked his hips forward. Slowly at first. Testing. Letting you adjust. You concentrated on your breathing, steady and patient, even as he pushed deeper.

»You’re taking me so well.«, he panted, voice rough and reverent. »You can give me a little more, can’t you?«

You moaned softly around him, the vibrations making him curse under his breath. He picked up the pace—deeper, harder, but never careless. Still holding your hair, still watching every little reaction on your face like it would undo him.

»Shit« he gasped. »So good. So fucking good for me.«

You felt his thighs begin to tremble under your hands, his stomach tightening, breath growing ragged. His rhythm faltered—sloppy, desperate now.

»Fuck« he choked out, jaw clenched. »I’m—«

He spilled into your mouth with a loud, broken moan. His entire body shook as you held him, swallowed, felt the warm taste of him coat your tongue. You didn’t stop until he had nothing left to give—just a trembling breath and your name on his lips.

When he finally pulled back, a slick string of spit still connected you, glistening in the dim light. You leaned forward once more, slowly, and dragged your tongue along the length of him—one final, deliberate lick—before swallowing again.

Togame collapsed back onto the couch behind him, chest rising and falling, utterly wrecked. He tugged you gently up to him and you let yourself be pulled into his lap, still breathing heavily against his skin.

He kissed your forehead, one hand cupping your jaw as his thumb traced the edge of your lips, slow and reverent.

»You were perfect« he whispered. »So fucking perfect.«

© 2025 shinyac0re ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

＃ Hakura Sakura

»I'm back!« you called out, setting the grocery bags down with a small sigh.

It didn't take long before Haruka appeared in the kitchen, silent as always. He walked up to you without saying a word and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. Then, without needing to be asked, he started helping you unpack.

You reached into one of the bags, but froze when you felt his gaze — sharp, intense, burning into your skin.

Turning your head, you found Haruka standing completely still, his eyes locked onto your hand. His entire posture had shifted. He was tense, his jaw clenched, shoulders rigid.

»What the hell happened to your hand?«

His voice was low, strained — the kind of calm that only masked deeper fury. He stepped forward and pointed to the two large bandages covering your fingers.

»Who did this?«

Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand gently but firmly and held it up to his face, inspecting every inch of it like he was ready to kill someone.

You let out a small laugh and pulled your hand back.

» Relax, it's nothing serious. « you said, hoping to calm him down.

» Nothing serious?« he repeated, disbelief flaring in his voice. » Half your hand is wrapped up like you fought a damn bear. Did someone tell you to say that to keep me calm?«

You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you.

It was honestly sweet — how fiercely he cared, even if he didn't always know how to show it. Haruka wasn't a man of many words, but his love for you came out in other ways. In how quickly he was ready to go to war for you. In how hard it was for him to breathe when you were hurt.

»Y/n, if someone laid a hand on you—«

»Calm down «, you cut in, still laughing. »I burned myself making breakfast this morning.«

He stared at you, unconvinced.

»Seriously «, you assured him. » I spilled hot water while I was making tea. Nothing dramatic.«

You watched his expression shift, the tension in his face slowly melting away. He let out a quiet breath, eyes still on your hand.

»Does it hurt? « he asked, voice softer now — almost hesitant.

»Not really«, you said with a small shake of your head. »It looks worse than it is.«

He nodded once but said nothing.

Then, after a short pause, he added, quietly but firmly,

»If anyone ever hurts you... you'll tell me. No hesitation.«

There was no room for argument in his voice. It wasn't a request. It was a promise. And maybe a threat, too — just not for you.

»Yeah«, you smiled brightly and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You felt the way his body froze ever so slightly, and when you pulled back, you caught the faint blush rising on his cheeks.

So much emotion in a man who rarely spoke it.

So much love — always.

＃Suo Hayato

Suo noticed every little change about you the moment you stepped through his door. New earrings, a different top—or, in this case, a black eye that your makeup couldn't quite hide.

He pulled you into a brief hug, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips.

But when his eyes met yours, his smile faded instantly.

Beneath your hands, you could feel his arms tense, and the way he looked at you shifted—concern darkening his expression, laced with the hint of restrained anger.

»Y/n... what happened?« he asked softly, his thumb brushing carefully across your bruised skin.

»Did someone hurt you? You know you can talk to me, right?«

You slipped off your shoes and tried to offer a reassuring smile.

»No, Suo, everything's fine«, you replied calmly, though it clearly wasn't enough for him.

He took your hand in his and ran his fingers slowly over it, voice a little firmer now.

» Y/n, who did this to you?« he asked, more seriously this time. » If someone laid a hand on you, I need to know. I can take care of it.«

Suo never had trouble speaking his mind—especially when it came to you.

He loved you out loud, with every word and every touch. He didn't hesitate to show you just how much he cared. If you ever needed reassurance, he'd give it to you a thousand times over.

You waved a hand dismissively, as if to brush the whole thing off.

»It's really not a big deal. Two guys got into a fight during class yesterday«, you explained, your voice a bit nervous as you looked up at him. »I tried to step in and stop them, and I caught an elbow to the face.«

His brows furrowed instantly, eyes scanning your bruise again.

» That must've been one hell of an elbow.« he murmured, concerned, before gently guiding you toward the kitchen.

»It looks worse than it is. « you assured him, watching as he opened the fridge and took out an ice pack. Wrapping it in a towel, he handed it to you with a soft, steady gaze.

»Here«, he said. »This'll help with the swelling.«

You gave him a grateful smile.

»Thanks, Suo.«

» I've told you before, haven't I?« he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. » You shouldn't get involved in stuff like that. You could've gotten seriously hurt. «

» I know «, you admitted quietly. » I just didn't want them to keep fighting.«

Suo looked at you for a moment—his expression softening, because this was exactly who you were. Always trying to help.

»Next time... please let them fight it out, okay?« he said gently. »I really don't want to see you hurt again.«

You nodded and rose onto your toes, pressing a kiss to his lips.

»Okay« ,you whispered. »I promise.«

＃Unemiya Hajime

»I'm back!« Hajime calls out as he steps outside, his voice light and full of excitement. »Man, I'm so ready to get these new tomatoes in the ground!«

He grins wide, carrying the pots in both hands, and sets them down beside you with a proud little nod.

You're standing by the garden bed, a bit of soil still clinging to your fingers. The afternoon sun warms your back.

»Everything go okay?« he asks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

»Yeah, all good« you say with a small smile.

But his expression shifts. Just slightly.

His eyes flicker to your arm, and his grin falters.

Without a word, he steps closer, his brows pulling together. His gaze locks onto the dark bruise that stretches across your upper arm.

»Did someone hurt you?« he asks quietly, his voice calm but tight. There's something serious in it now—focused. Protective.

He gently takes your arm, turning it a little to get a better look.

»Was it because of me?« he adds, softer this time. His fingertips hover over the bruise like he doesn't want to make it worse.

You shake your head quickly.

»No, no! It's nothing «you say, pulling your arm back.

»It just looks bad.«

»Y/n...« he says, eyes narrowing slightly. »If anyone touched you, I'd want to know. You know I'd handle it.«

» It's really fine «, you insist, trying to sound more relaxed. »Two guys in class got into a fight. One of them got shoved and fell into me. I tripped and hit the cabinet.«

His shoulders relax a little at your explanation, and then he exhales—more like a sigh of relief. A smile tugs at his lips.

»A little clumsy, huh?« he chuckles, his tone lighter now.

»Guess I don't need to hunt anyone down today.«

You laugh quietly. »Just a dumb accident.«

He nods, though his eyes linger on you for a second longer.

»If it ever stops being an accident, you'll tell me, right? « he asks, his voice sincere.

»Of course « you say softly.

His smile returns in full then—warm, bright, and familiar.

»Alright then. Let's get these babies planted.«

＃ Ren Kaji

Ren was sitting in your room—massive headphones over his ears, a lollipop stuck between his lips, phone in hand, completely zoned out.

You had just gotten out of the shower. Dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts and a loose tank top, your towel was still wrapped around your damp hair as you stood in front of the mirror.

»What the fuck?!«

Ren's voice cut sharply through the room, full of sudden anger as he yanked off his headphones and shot you a glare.

You turned around, confused by his outburst.

»What is it?« you asked, hands on your hips.

»That « he snapped, pointing directly at your thigh. »What the hell is that?«

You glanced down at the purplish bruise blooming across your skin.

»Who the hell do I have to kill for that?«

His eyes blazed, and he looked like he meant it. He wasn't asking for dramatic effect—he was waiting. For a name. A reason to get up and do something about it.

»No one « you said quickly, turning back to the mirror like it wasn't a big deal.

»Oh yeah? So bruises like that just magically show up now?«

His voice was biting, low, and full of disbelief.

Ren had always had a short fuse—especially when it came to you. If someone hurt you, he wouldn't hesitate to step in. You knew that. You'd only have to whisper a name.

»No, I just... I fell.« you muttered, pulling the towel free from your hair and shaking the strands out.

Ren scoffed. »You don't get bruises like that from just falling.«

You cringed slightly. »I was out with Haruka and Akihiko yesterday... you know how they get when they're all hyped up.«

Through the mirror, you could see Ren's expression shift—still annoyed, but less on edge than before.

»There was a loose floorboard at that arcade place, and I tripped. I fell on my side..« You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly.

Ren let out a breath, quiet but long, the tension leaving his shoulders just a bit.

»Do you need something? For the pain or whatever?« he asked, eyes scanning the bruise one more time before he popped his headphones back on.

»No, I'm good « you said, giving him a small, grateful smile.

There was a pause before his voice came through again—quieter, but firm.

»If anyone ever does hurt you... you'd tell me, right?«

You nodded, smiling gently at him.

»I'd tell you.«

He didn't answer. Just nodded once, sucked on his lollipop, and sank back into whatever song was blasting through his headphones—like nothing had happened.

But you knew better.

He'd heard every word.

And he'd remember it.

© 2025 shinyac0re ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

＃ Kotaro Bokuto

It was a warm, sunny morning, and you were quietly seated at your desk, waiting for the teacher to arrive. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't tune out the whispers filling the classroom. And sadly, you didn't even need to listen closely to know who they were about.

Kiyoomi Sakusa.

Your ex-boyfriend.

And the ace of the Itachiyama volleyball team.

In just two days, Fukurodani would be playing against them—against him.

Which meant your boyfriend Bokuto would be facing off against your ex.

The tension in the air was almost tangible. Everyone in your class seemed obsessed with the upcoming match, but instead of talking about the teams, the game, or the players' strengths, most of the gossip seemed to revolve around you.

»Y/n and Sakusa actually made a really good couple.«

»Sakusa's going to outshine Bokuto one day. I would've stuck with him.«

»Honestly, he's way better looking anyway.«

You'd heard it all before—whispers behind your back, stares when you walked by.

You were used to brushing things off. They didn't matter to you. Not anymore.

But Bokuto?

You weren't so sure he'd take it as lightly.

When the break finally started, you grabbed your bag and made your way through the hallways, already searching for the tall, loud-haired boy who had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve.

You didn't have to look long.

There he was—standing with Akaashi near the end of the corridor, arms crossed, brows furrowed, his whole posture radiating frustration. Akaashi was speaking to him in a low, calm voice, trying to soothe whatever was clearly brewing inside him.

Your heart sank a little. You already knew why.

»Y/n!« Bokuto's voice boomed as soon as he spotted you, his eyes lighting up with familiar warmth—only for that flicker of happiness to vanish again almost instantly.

He hurried toward you, waving his arms a little too dramatically. »Do you hear what everyone's saying?!«

His voice cracked with emotion, catching the attention of a few nearby students, but he didn't seem to care.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. »Yeah... I've heard it.«

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks, not from shame—but from knowing how much it must be eating away at him.

Bokuto scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair as he stared at you. »Unbelievable. That crap about how you and Sakusa were better together? That he's gonna be more successful than me?«

He took a step closer, his golden eyes burning with frustration. »You left him. For a reason. And yet they act like it was some kind of mistake.«

You blinked, surprised by how serious his tone was.

»I'm not letting you go.« he said firmly. » Not for him. Not for anyone.«

He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you against his chest. The possessiveness in his touch didn't scare you—it made you smile. A soft laugh escaped your lips as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in like he needed the reassurance.

He kissed the skin just behind your ear before whispering, »Ignore them. Please.«

You turned your head slightly. »I am ignoring them. But you? You don't sound like you are.«

He sighed. »How can I? They're saying you downgraded. That I'm just some loud, dumb guy who'll never compare to Sakusa and his—his brooding silence and stupid curls.« 

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing another laugh. »His stupid curls?«

»Yeah! You heard me.« Bokuto pouted slightly, but his frustration was still clearly bubbling. »I swear, on Saturday? I'm gonna crush them. I'm gonna spike that ball so hard Sakusa won't know what hit him.«

You giggled. »I believe in you.«

» I know you do « he muttered. »That's why you're not coming.«

Your smile faltered. »Wait, what?«

»You're not coming to the match." Bokuto crossed his arms again. »No way I'm letting him see you.«

You stared at him. »Bokuto—how am I supposed to cheer you on if I'm not even there?«

He looked torn for a second, glancing away before saying, »I just... I don't want him looking at you like he still has a chance. Like he regrets losing you. I know what he's like. And I don't want to see that.«

Your heart softened at the honesty in his voice. You stepped closer and touched his arm. »You're being ridiculous.«

»I know « he groaned. »But I can't help it.«

You leaned in and whispered teasingly, »Maybe you should let me come. Just so Sakusa sees exactly what he lost.«

Bokuto blinked, then slowly smiled. »Shit, yeah. That's actually perfect.«

He looked at you like you were the sun itself. »You belong with me, Y/n.«

Then he leaned down and kissed you—slow, steady, and full of certainty.

And when you pulled away, a grin tugged at your lips.

»Oh yeah? Is that so?«

»Yeah « he whispered. »Because I belong to you.«

＃ Tetsurou Kuroo

You'd had to listen to it all week — over and over, even when you desperately tried not to.

You did everything you could to block it out. The voices behind your back, the glances exchanged in the hallways, the whispered comments that always seemed to get just loud enough for you to catch them.

Everyone was talking. Like it was their business.

As if they knew anything about what really happened.

As if you didn't already hate hearing that name.

Suguru Daisho.

It haunted you like a curse this week — like a shadow still clinging to your heels. As if he was still a part of you instead of someone you'd left behind.

And then there were the comments.

Not just about him — but about Kuroo.

»Suguru's clearly the better player.«

»Kuroo's got nothing on him.«

»No wonder they used to be a thing.«

You didn't even know who was worse — the ones saying it, or the ones just nodding along.

Tetsurou hadn't said a word about it. Not once.

But you weren't stupid — you knew he'd heard it too.

He was just good at pretending it didn't get to him.

But it did.

You could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way he laced up his shoes more aggressively this morning, how his grip on his water bottle was just a bit too firm.

Today was the day of the match.

Your boyfriend playing against your ex — and for some reason, half your class was acting like it was a damn reality show finale.

»Hey, you coming?« Kuroo's voice broke through your thoughts as he reached for your hand.

You nodded, noticing the tension in his shoulders — trying to come off relaxed, but the way he pulled you in said otherwise.

»You look insanely good in my jersey « he muttered, flashing you a crooked grin as he wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you closer until your sides touched.

There was something in his tone — proud, a little possessive, maybe even challenging.

»I'll see you after the game « you smiled, leaning in to kiss him quickly before heading to the stands — but Kuroo didn't let you go.

Instead, he started walking. With you.

Still holding your hand tightly.

You stumbled after him, surprised. Kuroo! What are you doing?«

He didn't answer, just kept walking — straight onto the court. Some players had already started warming up, and a few of them looked up as the two of you approached.

» I can't walk out there with you « you whispered, tugging on his arm. But he wasn't letting go.

And just like that, you were standing right in the middle of the court.

»You absolutely can be out here.« he said, finally releasing your hand and grabbing a ball.

»What am I even supposed to do here?« you asked, every cell in your body aware of the eyes on you.

»Just stand there « he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

»Stand here? «you repeated in disbelief.

He nodded.

»Yes, Y/N. Right there. Let him see you. Let him see what he lost.«

There it was. The jealousy — sharp, unfiltered, not even trying to hide anymore.

»So you did hear it all «  you murmured, shifting uncomfortably.

Kuroo let out a bitter chuckle.

»Of course I heard it. I've heard everything. The rumors, the comments, the crap about how the two of you 'made more sense.« 

He tossed the ball up, caught it again. Shook his head.

»Honestly? «he added, voice darker now, »I could break his nose just for the way he looked at you during warm-ups.«

You blinked at him, stunned.

»But then I remembered « he continued, turning to face you, eyes intense.

»His jersey would never, never look as good on you as mine does.«

That made you laugh — despite everything.

»Can I go now? «you asked quietly, hopeful.

Kuroo scoffed. »Not a chance. He already looked at you once, and I swear, I almost marched over right then.«

He stepped closer again, voice lower now — just for you.

»You have no idea how hard it is not to lose it when people talk about you like you're still his. Like he still has any right to you.«

Your heart fluttered at his words — raw, honest, even if a little over the top.

You stepped forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. »Good luck, Tetsu.«

He smirked, but his eyes stayed serious.

» I don't need luck « he murmured.

» I need a lawyer. For when I'm done with that arrogant prick.«

You giggled. »You're overreacting.«

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. »I don't think I'm reacting nearly enough.«

© 2025 shinyac0re ; ━━ do not copy or translate my work !

It had started with teasing.

Now it was edging — again.

The third time he pulled away just as your muscles tightened, you let out a broken whine, collapsing slightly forward onto your forearms.

“Reo—please, please,” you gasped, hips shaking.

But he just chuckled, the sound warm and cruel in the same breath. “You sound so pretty like this. You wanna come that bad?”

“Yes, fuck, I need to—”

“Not yet.”

His hand pressed flat against your lower back, pinning you down gently but firmly. He admired the way your ass arched up, the way you shuddered beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“You can beg,” he said softly. “But you’ll only come when I say. Understood?”

You moaned, nodding, your fingers curling into the sheets.

“Good girl.”

He eased two fingers back inside, slow, dragging them against the walls of your soaked pussy. your hips jerking at the sensation. This time, he curled them, found that spot that made you cry out — but still didn’t let you tip over the edge. When your thighs began to quiver and your breath hitched, he pulled out.

“Reo!” Your voice cracked, a mix of frustration and raw need.

“Mm-mm.” He leaned back, wiping his fingers on your inner thigh, marking you with your own arousal. “You’re not ready yet. I want you shaking when I finally let you fall.”

The next time he touched you, it was with his cock.

Thick and hot, he nudged against your entrance, sliding through your folds teasingly, soaking himself in the mess he’d made of you. Your breath hitched, heart pounding as he pressed in slowly, letting you feel every inch of him stretch you open.

“Fuck—” he groaned, hips pressing flush against your ass as he bottomed out. “You feel so good like this. Always so tight for me.”

You whimpered, clenching around him, so overstimulated already that just having him inside felt like too much — and not nearly enough.

He started moving.

His thrusts were steady, deep, deliberate — no rush. Just the kind of pace that made you feel every roll of his hips, every thick inch dragging over your sensitive walls. Each time he pulled back, you could feel yourself tightening up again, chasing the high you weren’t allowed to reach.

Your hands clawed at the sheets. Your body trembled.

“You’re holding back so well,” he praised, voice husky. “Taking me so good, baby. Such a good girl for me.”

And then — he reached down and rubbed your clit again. This time, faster. More pressure.

You gasped, back arching. “Please, please—I’m so close—!”

“I know,” he said, almost lovingly. “But not yet.”

He stopped again.

You sobbed into the mattress.

“Oh, baby…” Reo leaned over you, kissing your shoulder, his thrusts never faltering. “You look so pretty when you cry for it. All that need dripping down your thighs. Do you know how hard it is for me not to give in?”

You were shaking, your whole body tight and straining against the orgasm he kept stealing away.

“I’m gonna give it to you,” he whispered. “You’ve earned it. But once I do… I’m not stopping.”

You barely managed a nod before he adjusted his grip — one hand gripping your hip, the other returning to your clit with ruthless precision. And this time, he didn’t let up.

The orgasm hit hard. Violent. You screamed his name as your body convulsed, clenching around his cock so tightly he swore under his breath. Your vision blurred.

But he didn’t stop.

He fucked you through it — deep, relentless strokes that made your climax spiral into another. You couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. Your legs gave out completely, and he just pulled you back up.

“That’s it,” he said, panting now, lips brushing your neck. “Take it. Take all of it.”

You were sobbing, writhing, body completely wrecked. His cock dragged against overstimulated nerves, every thrust making you jolt, cry out — too much, too good, too fast.

“One more, baby,” he moaned. “Give me one more.”

And somehow, your body obeyed. With a choked scream, you shattered again, collapsing under him, walls clenching hard as he spilled inside you with a deep groan, hips stuttering against your ass.

Silence followed, broken only by heavy breathing and the slick sounds of your bodies finally coming to a stop.

He pulled out slowly, and you whimpered at the sensation. Reo gathered you into his arms gently, laying you on your side and stroking your hair.

“You did so good,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “So fucking good for me.”

← BLLK ┆ NAVI →

a/n : thanks for reading.. but I hope I did well !