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Sora woke slowly, a soft groan slipping out before he could stop it. His whole body felt heavy, warm, and pleasantly sore in ways that made his cheeks heat just remembering why. When he stretched, his muscles pulled in protest—especially his thighs—and he winced, though the ache carried its own kind of satisfaction. Morning light filtered through the thin curtains in soft stripes, dust motes drifting lazily in the beams. Sora blinked at them, still half-asleep, then turned his head toward the other side of the bed. Empty. No Fang sprawled beside him, no low breathing, no cold arm flung over his waist. Sora blinked again, trying to figure out what time it even was. Late morning? Early morning? Afternoon? The room was too quiet to tell. He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting back to the ceiling as the memories of last night rolled over him—slow at first, then in an overwhelming rush. Fang’s hands, Fang’s mouth, Fang’s voice. The way Sora had clung to him. The way he’d said— I love you. Not once. Not twice. Over and over, breathless and desperate. Heat flushed up Sora’s neck. But not from embarrassment exactly, he didn’t regret saying it. lt was more from the way his body reacted, a flutter in his stomach at the memory of how intensely Fang had responded. How overwhelming the pleasure had been. How good it felt to finally say it after holding it in for so long, after feeling starved for affection for even longer. A muffled sound tugged him back to the present. Voices. Sora frowned, lifting his head slightly. He hadn’t noticed before, just background noise blended with the quiet hum of morning outside, but now that he focused, he recognized Fang’s voice through the door. Low. Irritated, maybe. But still talking to someone. 'Fang has… a guest?' Sora blinked at the thought. Fang didn’t get visitors. Still… Sora felt a little relieved. Happy, even. Fang deserved friends. He deserved people. He carefully swung his legs off the bed, wincing just a little at the soreness in his thighs. He made his way into the bathroom to relieve himself, then washed his hands, splashing a bit of cool water on his face. When he lifted his head to the mirror, he froze. “Jesus—” He barely recognized himself. His black curls were sticking out in every possible direction, completely feral. His eyes were a little red at the corners, lips swollen, and his pale skin was covered in red, blooming hickeys. Some were small and faint, others deep and striking, scattered like someone had tried dotting him with fingertips dipped in ink. A few distinct bite marks stood out too. Sora swallowed, heat creeping all the way down his neck as he turned to check his back in the mirror behind him. It was the same story there. Marks everywhere. But the worst—the one that made his stomach twist, was the wound at the base of his neck. A closed puncture mark in the shape of teeth, painfully visible and red against his skin. Eventhough it looked like it had healed much already, it was impossible to miss. “Great,” he whispered to himself, exasperated. “How the hell am I supposed to cover that?” He grabbed a damp cloth and gently dabbed at it, cleaning away the faint smudges Fang must have missed earlier. It didn’t hurt much—more tender than anything, so infection seemed unlikely. Once cleaned, he stepped back into the bedroom and rummaged through Fang’s closet. His own clothes were nowhere in sight; hopefully Fang hadn’t just left them lying around in front of whoever was out there. Everything Fang owned hung loose on him, of course. But he finally found a pair of joggers he could tighten at the waist and an oversized hoodie thick enough to hide the bruising along his throat. The collar came up high, brushing right against the bite mark, but it was the best option he had. If it were just Fang out there, he’d have thrown on a T-shirt and dealt with it. Fang already knew exactly what he’d done to Sora’s body. Sora was pretty sure every mark was intentional. Sora pulled the hoodie over his head and let it fall around him, it swallowed him whole. The sleeves dangled well past his hands, and the hem brushed his thighs, but at least it hid… most things. The wound at his neck still throbbed faintly, a reminder every time the fabric brushed it, but he tugged the collar up anyway. Better that than someone seeing it. He took a breath. Okay. You’re decent enough. You don’t look like you got hit by a truck. Just… maybe tapped by one. Lightly. He exhaled, stepping over to the bedroom door, and pressed his ear to it. Fang’s voice carried in that low, annoyed tone he used when he was tolerating someone out of necessity, but that was the tone he usallyhad around others, so he couldn’t tell much from it. The other's voice were higher, smug—made the hair on Sora’s arms prickle. Something about it felt… weird. Like metal scraping stone. Sora’s throat tightened. He debated going back to bed. Pulling the blankets over his head. Pretending he was still sleeping. But Fang had someone over. That same Fang. Who didn’t even like people near his apartment, let alone inside it. So this person meant something. And Sora didn’t want to be rude and hid around. He cracked open the door and peered out. His stomach fluttered with nerves he didn’t want to acknowledge. What if this person didn’t like him? What if Fang hadn’t told them about him? What if this was someone Fang respected and Sora walked in looking like he lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner? He swallowed hard and edged toward the corner where the hallway met the living room. Slowly, carefully, he peeked. He first saw Fang’s broad back, arms crossed, posture stiff with annoyance. He was talking to someone sitting on the kitchen counter. No. Not sitting... Floating. Sora’s eyes widened. The man hovered inches above the counter, relaxed as if this was the most normal thing in the world. His white hair fell in soft waves, and his clothes shimmered with patterns that looked far too detailed to be human craftsmanship. And his eyes were purple. Bright and aware—glancing around the kitchen lazily like everything amused him. That had to be magic. Or something not human. Sora’s breath caught in his throat. He backed up quickly, pressing his back to the hallway wall, hoodie collar pulled instinctively higher. His heart beat too fast, a cold fluttering in his stomach. Sora shut his eyes, steadying himself. Fang wouldn’t be ashamed of you. He wouldn’t. He just… wasn’t sure what he was allowed to do in this situation. And that made him nervous. Slowly Sora found the courage to clear his throat and step forward more visible in the door. "Um.. Good morning" Sora cringed at his own voice, it was hoarse and sounded a quiet rough.

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Well, I got requested to put Kichiku Megane R... I swear I had the files on hand already, but RuTracker saved the day again! Here's the goods! Kichiku Megane R CATBOX.MOE - Split up into files of 200 MB or less. .001-and onwards part/zip files. 🦄 Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6 🦄 Includes: The game as two disks in folders- the first with the first disk's ccd, img, and sub files and the second with the second disk's ccd, img, and sub files. Please let me know if you can't access these files due to your ISP, location, or otherwise even through VPN or changing your DNS! Just DM me and I'll hook you up lol. For installation, it's about the same as the original game. Use my renamer tool to rename the files, extract them all together, mount the first .ccd, then swap it with the second .ccd...

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