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Thank You for sharing !

reuproad,please thanks

Thank you very much for your kindness sharing to us

UKE character is interesting and pitiful that I want to hug him (although at first I thought he was SEME...) Many thanks for the sharing

Thank you for sharing !

Thank you so much for the sequel volume

Thank you so much for sharing the main book and the special booklet

Title: Only Talk/オンリー・トーク Authors: Michi Ichiho, Shimura Takato Thank you!

@Tenn10

【ジュリエットのバカ + ジュリエットのその後】 My Scan LINK 【For a limited time】 Do not reupload or reshare anywhere. For personal enjoyment only.

Asher had felt it all. The brush of Kaito’s knee under the table. The way he didn’t pull away from Asher. The flustered heat radiating off him, his loud heartbeat, clear enough for Asher’s wolf pick it up in smug satisfaction. The quiet thank you in the dim hallway. The adorable smile he resived. It settled somewhere deep within Asher’s chest. He didn’t respond right away when Kaito disappeared into the bathroom. Asher heard the shower turn on and stood very still in the center of the room. Outwardly, he looked composed, posture straight and controlled. Anyone else would see the same thing. Inside however, it was a different story. Less than a day since he had felt the pull of a bond to Kaito and rewired something fundamental inside him. Less than a day since had Kaito looked at him and the world had quietly shifted. And now they were sharing a room.. his room Chester his wolf was pacing insidehis mind. >Let me see him. Let me go to him. He’s right there.< Asher dragged a hand slowly down his face, keeping his breathing even. 'Calm down.' >He’s our mate.< “I know,” Asher muttered under his breath, voice barely audible over the running water. “He’s also overwhelmed, new to this, and hasn’t even had his first shift yet.” That last part tightened something in his chest. Kaito hadn’t shifted. Not once. The bond had formed before Kaito had ever met his wolf. Before he’d felt that first conection under the moon. He didn’t even know what that felt like yet—and Chester already wanted to crowd him, scent him, curl around him like it was inevitable. Asher exhaled slowly and forced his shoulders to relax. On the outside, he moved with quiet precision. Cracked a window open for some fresh air. Pulled off his shirt and changed into some light soft pants for sleeping. Inside, his thoughts were troubling him. What if he pushes too hard? What if Kaito realizes this is too much? What if the bond feels heavier to him than it does to me? Chester huffed in his mind. >He didn’t pull away at dinner.< “That doesn’t mean he’s ready for you to hover, over him” Asher replied internally. “He needs space to find his footing.” Chester’s impatience simmered, a low, restless energy under Asher’s skin. >I want to meet them.< “You will,” Asher said firmly. “When he’s ready. After his first shift. Not before.” The wolf grumbled but retreated slightly, though the awareness never left. Every scent curling under the bathroom door. Every shift of movement beyond the wall. Asher sat on the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the floor like he was contemplating something mundane. He liked Kaito. That was the truth. It wasn’t just instinct. It wasn’t just the bond. He just liked Kaito. The steadiness in his voice. The blush he tried to hide at dinner. The quiet strength under the calm surface although he too was troubled. The shower shut off. Asher straightened automatically. The nervous churn inside him didn’t show on his face. His breathing remained even. His posture relaxed. Chester perked up again. >Mate.< “Behave,” Asher warned internally. He could be patient, even if his wolf couldn’t.

Julius looked up, and the rest of the room quietly ceased to exist. For a breathless moment, he forgot how to speak. He was struck dumb by the sight of the person he loved, standing a few feet away, transformed and yet unmistakably himself. Awe settled over Julius like a physical weight, warm and reverent, pinning him in place. Yukie looked… unreal. Not in the distant, untouchable way, but in the way of something foreign living and deliberate crafted by something otherworldly. The deep sapphire caught the light every time Yukie moved, the bodice fitting him like it had been dreamed into existence rather than stitched together. Julius’s gaze followed the lines of Yukie’s elegant curves, the daring openness of his back, the teasing contrast of soft ruffles against sharp denim and leather. Masculine and feminine braided together so seamlessly it made Julius’s chest ache. Beautiful didn’t cover it. Neither did stunning, or breathtaking, or any word Julius had ever relied on before. The blush on Yukie’s face only made it worse. Made Julius’s heart stutter hard against his ribs. He pushed himself to his feet, movements careful, like sudden motion might break the moment. Julius crossed the space between them, stopping close enough that he could see the fine details: the precision of the makeup, the way the curls framed Yukie’s face, the faint shimmer of jewels catching against his skin. His hands itched to touch it—and he didn’t miss the way Yukie held the clasp like it weighed more than it should. “Y-yeah, of course,” Julius said softly, his voice low and a bit unsteady. He made sure to meet Yukie’s eyes before letting his gaze drop anywhere else. “I’ve got you.” He held his hands out, and took the clasp. Then he stepped behind Yukie just enough to do what was needed, keenly aware of how close they were. Up close, the open back of the outfit stole what little breath Julius had left. The line of skin, warm and exposed. He had to focuse on the task at hand extra hard, though his heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Yukie could hear it. The clasp slid into place with a soft, final click. Julius let his hands fall away, stepped back and swallowed. “You look…” He stopped, exhaled, and tried again, a small, almost helpless smile pulling at his mouth. “You look incredible. Truly.” Yukie stood glowing in sapphire and confidence, And Julius knew one thing with clarity: whatever tonight held, he would make sure to make wonderful. Because Yukie deserved nothing less. Julius lingered quiet for a moment. He felt the familiar tug of wanting to rise to the occasion. His gaze dropped to his own reflection in the nearby mirror—and then, almost sheepishly, to the vest beneath his jacket. It was fine. It looked perfectly tailored causeof his magic. But it just wasn’t all there yet He lifted one hand, fingers brushing the edge of the fabric, and let his magic through. A low hum threaded through his chest, down his arm, and into the cloth itself. The color shifted from charcoal deepened into sapphire, rich and luminous, it didn’t catch in the light the same way Yukie’s jewelry did. But he didn’t need it to, he just wanted them to match. Julius exhaled slowly, a quiet smile touching his lips. “That’s better,” he murmured to himself. Once they were ready, coats gathered and final adjustments made, Julius stepped closer and turned toward Yukie fully. He straightened, posture easing into something elegant and assured, and bent his arm like in a practiced, old-fashioned gesture. “Shall we?” he said, warmth threaded through the invitation. When Yukie took his arm, he held his other arms out and with a snap of his fingers, space bent smoothly around them, light blurring out before snapping back into clarity. Cool night air greeted them first, then the low murmur of voices, distant music, and the unmistakable glow of opulence. They stood before a ballroom venue that Julius had seen advertised in one of the magazines in the hair salon The building looked elegant and imposing, all sweeping arches and polished white stone, its entrance washed in warm golden light. Chandeliers glittered through tall windows, spilling brilliance onto the steps below. Well-dressed guests arrived in slow, curated waves—silks, tailored suits, jewels flashing like stars caught too close to the earth. Julius blinked once. Then twice. “…Ah,” he said quietly, a hint of surprised amusement curling at the edge of his voice. This wasn’t just nice. This was grand. A full charity ball for the city’s elite—old money, new power, and the kind of wealth that liked to be seen doing good in public. A bite more formal than he’d anticipated. His grip on Yukie’s arm tightened just slightly in reassurance. They didn’t have an invitation but that didn’t scare Julius. Even if they didn’t recognized Yukie. He waS sure they'd still let them slide inside simply by how they looked. Julius shrugged lightly. “I don’t know much about this city yet, but I thought this event would be fine. It’s a small charity dance—low-key, no press or journalists allowed inside.” He glanced at Yukie, trying to read his expression. “If you step on my foot while dancing, no one will be taking pictures of it,” he added with a teasing smile—just in case Yukie was nervous. Truthfully, Julius was the one with a knot in his stomach. He gently squeezed Yukie’s arm and guided him up the steps toward the entrance. A few paparazzi lingered outside, snapping photos of every well-dressed guest as they arrived at the hall. From what Julius could tell, there were a handful of barely recognizable celebrities, but he’d never cared much for remembering faces from television or online. Why bother? They might have been good-looking, sure. But after meeting Yukie, none of them could hold a candle to him. No one looked better than his mate. ---------------------- Yumro’s expression softened at the concern in Haru’s voice. “I won’t get hurt,” Yumro assured gently. He stepped back a few paces, giving Haru a clear view. His massive wings unfurled to their full span, feathers catching the light in subtle shades of black. They stretched wide—broad and powerful, built for flight. “Takeoff is about force and timing,” he explained, settling into a slight crouch. “From the ground, you don’t have gravity helping you. So you create your own momentum.” He angled his body forward, talons digging slightly into the earth for traction. His wings lowered, almost brushing the ground behind him. “Watch my legs first,” he instructed calmly. With a sharp, controlled inhale, Yumro drove downward with both wings in a single explosive motion while pushing hard off the ground with his legs. Dust and small stones scattered outward from the force. The first wingbeat wasn’t graceful—it was powerful. Designed purely to break gravity’s hold. He rose several feet instantly. But he didn’t stop there. Before the lift from the first beat could fade, his wings snapped downward again—stronger, faster—catching the air and converting the upward momentum into stable flight. By the third beat, he was no longer fighting the ground. He was suspended in it. His body shifted smoothly into a forward glide, circling once above Haru to demonstrate. Then he angled downward deliberately. “Landing is about surrendering momentum,” he called, voice steady despite the wind. Rather than dropping straight down, Yumro widened his wings to increase drag. His descent slowed immediately. A final measured wingbeat reduced the remaining speed before his feet touched the earth. He bent his knees deeply on impact, wings spreading slightly to stabilize himself. He landed without so much as a stumble. Folding his wings halfway, he looked at Haru with a reassuring smile. “You don’t fall if you respect and read the wind.” he said. “And if I ever did lose control, I’d adjust before I hit. That’s what practice is for.” He straightened fully, brushing a bit of dust from his arm. “For you, it’ll take you more wingbeats,” he continued thoughtfully. “Your wings are smaller and still developing. So you’ll need quicker repetition rather than one powerful burst.” His gaze softened. “But your body already knows how. It just needs guidance.” He stepped closer to Haru. “When you’re ready,” Yumro said, voice patiently “bend your knees. Push with your legs first. Your wings follow immediately after. Don’t hesitate —that’s when you lose lift.” He extended one wing slightly, creating a partial windbreak beside Haru without crowding him. “if you don’t get anyway, I'll catch you.”

https://vndb.org/v34546 It got released at the end of last month and I haven't found a download link till now. I've been fancying the military guy with orange hair (the protagonist is very cute too).

hi !! my name is cannibal >< and i didnt know this forum was a thing !! i thought this was another yaoi site since i discovered it to download Ooe (BL games my beloved <333) heh. I've been into BL since the mid 2010s haha asian gen z rite of passage and my favourite BLs are the carp on the chopping block jumps twice series/volumes, smells like green spirit and anything by nakamura asumiko !! watching the kaze to ki no uta OVA literally changed everything :333 looking 4 friends ! (i like reading horror and scifi classics and old literature and also listening to every metal genre !! aspiring game dev/writer >.^)

["You'll be fine... you have me after all."] That seems to easy the tension Sora had been feeling. Fang was right. And coming from someone whom had the most changes happening in his life that said a lot. "You are right about that." He followed Fang to the kitchen where the aroma was strongest. He gently put his hands around Fang’s waist and hugged him from behind as he looked over Fang’s shoulder. "Thank you for listening to my nonsens.. you always know just the right things to say" Sora said in a low calm voice as he let Fang make the plate. He look into the pots. It looked very nice and if the smell did it justice, he was sure it would be delicious. Sora quickly took a seat as Fang turned with a plate meant for him. But Sora still waited for Fang joined him before he would start eating. That said, he did take in a good whiff. The mild spices he smelled made his mouth water. Sora did only feel a little guilty about the trip. But only a little. If Fang couldn’t or wouldn’t wanna go Sora knew the man had other ways to get out of it. Yet he let him off easily for now. "Really! You are coming, oh good" Sora could barely control himself from calling Asta back this instants. He was over the mood. This would also be his first ever trip with Fang, and he really looked forward to it. Picking up his spoon the proceeded to eat. The first spoonful of rice and curry was an plesant explosion of flavor. It wasn’t strong but very tasty. "It’s delicious." Sora praised Fang’s cooking after chewing and swallowing the first bite. "It’s not too strong but it has so much flavor.. Fang you are a really good cook" ..... Sora had picked out the movie, but hadn’t expected the it to hit that hard. When he’d picked it, he just thought Fang would like the sword fights and brooding main character. He hadn’t anticipated how good the acting would actually be—the grief in the samurai’s eyes, the way every swing of his blade felt heavy with something more than skill. Even Sora, who usually fidgeted through long films, had stayed still. Mostly because Fang had kept him close the entire time. Sora could still feel the steady rise and fall of Fang’s chest beneath his cheek. The warmth from him was like a heating blanket. He barely notice at first, but somewhere halfway through the film, he had melted into Fang without thinking. It felt… right. When Fang muttered reluctant praise about the movie choice, Sora huffed a small, satisfied breath, though his face flushed faintly at the hair ruffle. “Of course it was,” he mumbled back, but there was no real bite to it. As the credits rolled and the room dimmed into that quiet after-movie stillness, Sora didn’t move away. He could. But he didn’t want to. Not when Fang’s arm was around him like this. [“Sleepy?”] Sora shook his head slightly against his chest, though his voice came out softer than usual. “Not really.” He was… thoughtful. When Fang asked the question [Do you think… he was happy?] Sora knew exactly who he meant, but didn’t answer right away. Sora stared at the blank television screen, the faint reflections of them barely visible. He thought about the samurai’s final moment. About the emptiness that followed. “I don’t think he was happy,” Sora said quietly. He shifted just enough to look up, though his voice stayed calm. “I think he was… relieved.” There was a difference. “He finished what he thought he had to do. So he could finally stop.” Sora’s fingers lightly gripped the fabric of Fang’s shirt, absentmindedly. “But his whole life was just… leading to that one moment. Once it was done, there wasn’t anything left.” He swallowed. “That’s not really happiness, is it?” Sora rested his head back down, eyes drifting shut—not because he was tired, but because the warmth and quiet made it easier to speak honestly. “If all you have is revenge… then even if you win, you’ve still lost everything else.” His voice softened further. “I think it was sad, because he didn’t have anyone waiting for him. No future. Just an ending.” Sora let out a slow breath, his fingers still loosely curled in Fang’s shirt. “…I feel sorry for him.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. His lashes fluttered, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head back slightly to study Fang’s expression before continuing. “I don’t think that’s the ending his loved ones would have wanted for him. In a way, he still died with them. Where’s the happiness in that?” Sora slowly shifted, lifting himself just enough to move higher until their faces were level. He knew Fang had once walked a similar path—he had told him as much. But surviving that kind of loss had to mean more than just chasing revenge. Sora didn’t want Fang searching for an ending. He wanted him to find closure. Gently, Sora cupped Fang’s cheeks in his hands and leaned down until their noses brushed. “He threw his life away because he thought he had nothing else to live for,” Sora murmured softly. “That’s loneliness.” His eyes softened as he looked down at him. He never wanted Fang to end up like that. Life was fragile and painful, yes—but it was also full of crossroads, of chances to change direction. Maybe Sora had been one of those crossroads. The samurai had met people too, but he’d been too consumed by his mission to let anything alter his course. Sora lowered his head the rest of the way, pressing his lips gently to Fang’s in a slow, tender kiss. He didn’t want Fang to end like that. Not even for him. ------------------------------ (Leon) Leon had been prepared for a serious conversation. He had not been prepared for… whatever that was. He blinked once as Asta’s words collided into each other at record speed, the end of his ramble turning into one breathless blur. For a second, Leon simply stared at him. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t dismissive. It was warm—soft at first, then fuller as he lifted a hand to cover his mouth, shoulders shaking slightly. The tension that had followed them all the way to the apartment eased in an instant. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been bracing himself. A trip. That was what had Asta so wound up? Leon lowered his hand, the smile lingering on his lips as he studied him properly now. The pink in Asta’s cheeks. The nervous energy vibrating off him. The way he’d clearly overthought this to death. Leon’s chest tightened—but not in a bad way. He reached out slowly, gently prying the glass of water from Asta’s hands before it could become a casualty of nerves. Setting it safely on the table, he turned back to him. "Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to laugh at you. I was just caught off guard for a moment" he apologized as he gently put the glass of water on the table but kept Asta’s hands in his. Leon gently squeezed his hands as he looked down at them with a smile tugging at his lips. A trip. He would clear his schedule immediately if Asta asked him to. Any upcoming shoots, brand meetings or campaigns didn’t matter to him. Things were taking off for him yes. But Asta’s would still be his number one priority. Leon leaned back slightly into the couch, exhaling through his nose as he ran a hand through his hair, thinking. His gaze drifted toward the window for only a second before returning. A trip. Their last two summers had been mostly spend stuck inside while Asta was healing. Leon’s expression softened. Work would always exist. Opportunities would always chase him. He leaned forward again, resting his forearms on his knees, fingers loosely laced together. His usual composed aura had shifted to a more relaxed version of Leon. He didn’t answer immediately. His thumb tapped lightly against his knuckle as he calculated possibilities. If he rearranged the campaign shoot. If he pushed back one appearance. It would be possible. He looked at Asta—still flushed, still visibly bracing for rejection—Leon felt something settle firmly in his chest. He straightened. The faintest smirk touched his lips, but his eyes were warm. He reached out, gently catching Asta’s chin between his fingers—not with force. Just enough to make him look at him properly. Leon held his gaze. Then, calm and steady, he spoke. “You really thought I’d say no?” Leon held his gaze for a moment longer. He let his hand fall from Asta’s chin, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned back slightly into the couch, one arm stretching along the backrest behind him. His posture relaxed, though his eyes remained steady. A trip. His career had been accelerating faster than he’d expected. Every week there was something new—another call, another fitting, another photoshoot. Leon exhaled quietly. He could talk to his manager. He could move things around. "I would love going on a trip with you anytime" Although it wouldn’t just be the two of them alone he would take what he could get.

ありがとうございます [Nitro+CHiRAL] スロウダメージ 日本語版をお持ちの方でシェアして頂る方がいましたらお願いします（＞＜）

Thank you so much. I will have a happy time💜💙

Thank you so much. I will have a happy time 💚💛

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