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Alistair was suprised that Alexander seemed to show genuine concern for him, enough to intervene. [ “I can't... purify your energy, It would hurt you and I don't want that." ] This was a perfect opportunity for the priest to kill him...and yet. He extended his hand out to him. [ “…I could carry you, further down the path. Away from the pressure.”] Alistair was confused. Why would he do something like that? " I-im fine..ha..ah.." He lied through his teeth, trying to stand. [ “I only meant … so you can breathe.”] The priest seemed conflicted. Like he was stuck between two choices, looking back to the temple and him. He wished he knew what the young man was thinking. Was he debating on killing him here, capturing him, or perhaps leaving him. Regardless, he had over stayed his welcome. He needed to leave, and quickly. He wiped his brow, removing sweat from his forehead as he straightened himself out, planning to do this alone. [ “Look,"] The blonde got closer, now he was so close that they could touch each other. Their auras reacting to one another. [ "I have to return before someone notices I'm gone. But if I leave you here like this..." (....) “…I'll worry.”] "Worry? Ha..ha..A-about little...old me.." He teased, but this human seemed determined. He didnt get a chance to say any more witty comments as the priest helped him to his feeg. He took his arm and threw it over his shoulder, his other hand wrapping around his waist. Was this actually happening? A priest....helping a demon? He was speechless as they started to walk, and Alexander told him that they'd see each other again in a few days when he could sneak away without his father knowing. Alistair avoided eye-contact as they walked. There was something about Alexander aurora. It was so warm and welcoming...his touch gentle...but why? Shouldn't it burn? Shouldn't he hate becoming engulfed in such a feeling... ( I dont....hate it...) He thought, the two now walking in silence. Time had moved so quickly. He was so lost in his thoughts that it didnt even occur to him to protest or resist. [ “Safe …”] ( what?) He blinked, rising his head and seeing that they were at the base of the mountain. (W-what just happened...did I actually...let my guard down?) His grip loosened and Alistair immediately pulled away. Already feeling better now that he was no longer breathing the mountains mist and being crushed by spiritual pressure. He was starting to breath normally again. [ “Then I’ll see you next time”] He bit his lip. More confused and upset then ever. He wanted to yell at him. Call him stupid for even trusting and helping someone like him. Question if he was even sain! He took a step toward him, his body moving on its own as if to catch him, but Alistair stopped himself just as the priest looked back at him. Those eyes... Alistair struggled to understand what he saw behind those beautiful eyes of his. "You're not...scared of me?" He whispered. [ “What should I call you? You do have a name don’t you?”] (My...name?) His eyes widened ever so slightly. His instincts told him to lie, but something deeper inside him desperately wanted to tell Alexander the truth. Wanted this human to say his name...would it sound different coming from a priests mouth? "A-..." He hesitated. He shook his head, turning away. " Alistair..." He immediately regretted it. He turned away and ran...he didn't want the priest to see his reaction and he desperately needed to get as far away from this boy as possible. What the hell was he feeling? And why was he so pissed off? And why was he looking forward to seeing him again?! [ A few days later ] Needless to say, the job he had originally agreed to was canceled after his encounter with Alexander. The boy was untouchable and unreadable...a anominally that he'd only ever read about in stories. Any other weaver would of tried to kill him or stay away from him...but for some reason Alistair was feeling drawn to him. Without any form of communication it was hard to figure out when Alexander might decend the mountai again, so he stayed in the boys home town, crashing at a Inn, and waiting for the moment he'd sense the boys spiritual pressure. His was like nothing Alistair had ever encountered. It left like a sunset kissing your skin, or the wave of relief you feel after fear took over for years. A hug from someone you desperately missed....a warm flickering flame that danced in a dark space. The longer he waited the more impatience and irritated he became. Emotions rather foreign to him. He had never been on someone else's time, the experience was mentally excruciating. Today he found himself standing at the bottom of the mountain, the sun just starting to rise, the same place where they had went their separate ways just days ago. He found himself a spot under a shady tree, hiding his presence and demonic pressure, his eyes a soft brown color. He sighed counting the clouds in the sky. ( What am I even doing here....) He could be killed, especially being this close to a temple and holy mountain, he was just asking for trouble. ( but...hes here..) His mine trying to convince him that this was a good enough reason to be this reckless, and put his life on the line. 'Because he was here' Who the heck was Alexander Sato... @mik3la

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Kaito didn't realize he'd been holding himself so tightly until Asher touched him. That sent a rush of heat through him so suddenly he almost forgot how to breathe. His wolf reacted first, quicker than he could: a deep, started thrum of want, of recognition, curling up from the center of him. (He accepts us.) (He chooses us.) The word pulsed through him, bright and terrifying. Kaito swallowed hard, heat rising behind his eyes before he could stop it. Asher wasn't rejecting him. Not even hesitating. Not even flinching at what he was. A mage, an wolf. A hybrid to be exact. Something the old stories whispered warnings about. But Asher looked at him like he was something precious. Something wanted. Something enough. (He wants us. Trust him) Kaito's chest pulled tight, pain and hope twisting together until it physically hurt to breathe “Asher…” His voice softly. The wolf inside him pressed closer, brushing up against him warm, steadying, almost purring at the reassurance in Asher's tone. “You don't... you don't know what that means to me,” he managed, mirroring Asher's words in breath more than sound. His fingers twitched as if they wanted to reach back, to touch him, to anchor himself to those steady amber eyes, but he held himself still, afraid the shaking in his hands would give him away. Afraid the emotion would spill over. “You say I'm enough like it's simple,” he whispered, voice trembling with something fragile but growing. "Like you don't care that I don't fit anywhere. Not with humans, not with mages... not with wolves. Hybrids aren't exactly welcome in any story from what we’ve read." His wolf let out a soft, defensive growl at the memory, rejections, rumours, fear, every old wound stirred up by the thought of stepping into a pack's territory. “And you…” Kaito pressed his lips together, eyes flicking down then back up, unable to hold the full weight of Asher's warmth for long. "You're offering me your pack. Your family. A home." He shook his head slightly, overwhelmed. “ … the way you say it... you make it sound like it could be a home. Like I could have that but you don't understand, Asher. Wolves don't trust magic. Mages don't trust wolves. And hybrids … people like me …. usually don't get invited anywhere. If the legends mention us, it's as mistakes or warnings." His voice dipped, softer. "So when you said I could come with you... part of me felt honoured. And another part felt like I couldn't breathe. Because I wouldn't want to walk into a place where people look at me the way legends say they should. Like I'm wrong. Like I shouldn't exist." His wolf pushed forward again, brushing Kaito's skin from the inside, steady and persistent. (He won't abandon us. Don't run.) (Go with him.) Kaito exhaled shakily. “And before you you say anything… no.” His gaze hardened, determining settling into his bones like a rising tide. "“…I'm not hiding while you go after the people who came after us,” Kaito said, the softness fading into steel. “I won't sit somewhere safe while you and your brother take all the risk. I won't let you face them without me.” His wolf snarled in fiery agreement, all instincts sharp and ready. “I'm going with you,” Kaito said firmly. "Not because I need to prove anything, but because I won't let you walk into danger alone. You're not the only one with something at stake." He paused then let himself tell the truth. "My wolf won't let me. And... I don't want to." His heart thudded once, hard. Kaito's voice softened again, vulnerability curling around the edges like smoke. “And if your pack rejects me…” He hesitated; the words heavy. “If they see a hybrid before they see me…”he swallowed. “Just … don't step away from me because of them. Don't let their fear decide anything between us.” His wolf pressed close, humming, hopeful but Kaito's voice dropped, almost a whisper. "And if you still want me there... if you really mean it, then I'll go. With you. Wherever this leads." He took a small, steadying breath. “Just… don’t let go of me when we get there."

Thank you for sharing!!!

[みつこ] 先生さよなら、また明日 (ふゅーじょんぷろだくと) Title : Sensei Sayonara, Mata Ashita / 先生さよなら、また明日 Author : Mitsuko / みつこ 2021 / Japanese / JPEG Tags : School, Student x Teacher, Age Gap

Julius slipped out of the warmth of the nest, reluctantly peeling himself away from the spot Yukie had occupied. His skin still tingled where those adoring kisses had been, and he huffed a soft laugh as he grabbed the nearest robe—one that practically swallowed him whole. It smelled like Yukie too, which didn’t help the flush on Julius’s cheeks. He tied the robe loosely and padded to the door, spotting the large insulated paper bag sitting dutifully on the floor. Thank the stars I ordered extra, he thought, remembering the ferocious growl of Yukie’s stomach. Honestly, if he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought a dragon was about to burst out of his mate. He picked up the bag—it was pleasantly warm, heavy, and very promising, and carried it back inside. The aroma of fried chicken and spices filled the entryway instantly. As Julius closed the door, he took a moment just to breathe and smile to himself. He could still feel Yukie’s lingering possessiveness wrapped around him like a second robe, that ridiculous attempt at flirting still echoing in his ears. [“Only my mate is allowed that kind of attention for now~.” ] The memory made him snort. “Needy demon,” he muttered under his breath, affectionate and amused. With the bag in hand, he walked back toward the bed slowly, deliberately, because he knew Yukie hadn’t slunk off somewhere. The pillows were far too suspiciously piled, and Julius wasn’t about to pretend he didn’t notice. He lowered the bag onto a side table, keeping a careful eye on the wobbling pillow mound. “You know…” he said lightly, not addressing the ‘pillow pile’ directly, “I'm glad I ordered extra crispy. And those little fries you pretend not to love.” He loosened the robe with one hand and peeked inside the bag with the other, inhaling deeply. “Mmm… smells good.” He smiled to himself, knowing full well Yukie wouldn’t be able to resist for long. ------ Yumro didn’t stay still. The moment Haruhi’s breath hitched and that first tear slid down his cheek, something inside Yumro snapped—soft, instinctive, protective. His wolf pushed forward hard, urging him, go to him, now. And Yumro did. He crossed the short distance in an instant, pulling out the chair beside Haruhi and sitting close—close enough for Haruhi to lean on him if he wanted, but not so close that it trapped him. His movements were slow, open, giving Haruhi every chance to deny him. But when the second tear fell, Yumro gently slipped an arm around Haruhi’s shoulders and guided him into the warmth of his chest. Not forcing—just offering. And when Haruhi didn’t pull away, Yumro exhaled shakily and held him a little tighter, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of his mate’s head. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low against Haruhi’s temple. “Let it out, love. I’m right here.” He felt Haruhi’s breathing tremble against him, felt the quiet struggle in each inhale. Yumro smoothed a hand down Haruhi’s spine, long calming strokes meant to ground rather than restrain. His other thumb brushed slow circles along Haruhi’s shoulder, comforting, steady. When he finally spoke, it was with his cheek resting lightly atop Haruhi’s hair, his voice warm and close. “Haruhi… listen to me.” His tone was soft but firm, the kind of certainty that held no room for doubt. “I don’t see you as weak. Not even a little.” His hand tightened briefly around Haruhi as if to emphasize the point. “You survived things you never should have had to. You protected yourself. You protected Haru.” He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Haruhi’s temple. “That takes strength most people never find in their entire lives.” He pulled back just slightly—enough to see Haruhi’s face, to gently thumb away the tears still slipping free. “And yes, you’re sick right now,” Yumro continued softly. “You’re healing. That’s why I take care of you. Not because I think you’re beneath me. But because I love you. And when someone you love is hurting, you don’t stand at a distance and pretend they’re fine.” He leaned in a little closer, forehead gently touching Haruhi’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry anything I did brought back memories of him. Sorry you were ever treated like something to control or use.” His voice trembled with restrained anger—not at Haruhi, but at the man who had hurt him. “I would never hurt you. Never force you. Never make you feel small.” Yumro drew Haruhi back against his chest again, arms wrapping fully around him now, secure and warm. “I don’t want us arguing before I take Haru out,” he murmured into Haruhi’s hair. “I want you to feel safe. I want you to feel loved.” His hold softened, but he didn’t let go. “You’re my equal, Haruhi. My partner. My mate. And I’m here, right now, because you’re hurting. Not because you’re weak.” He pressed another tender kiss to Haruhi’s temple, then rested his cheek there, holding him close. "Do you really hate me taking care of you even now?"

Asher didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until the words I’m not rejecting you finally left Kaito’s lips. Relief hit him like a blow—sharp, dizzying, overwhelming. His wolf let out a sound that wasn’t quite a whine and wasn’t quite a growl, something raw and grateful and so full his chest ached with it. The tension that had been strung taut through every inch of him loosened all at once, leaving a trembling exhale slipping past Asher’s parted lips. Kaito wasn’t rejecting him. He wasn’t losing the person fate had carved from the same thread as him. And he’d liked Asher—before the bond, before the truth, before any of this. It took everything Asher had not to reach out and pull him into his arms. Later. When Kaito could handle it. Asher forced his breathing to slow, sitting a little straighter, letting every emotion he felt show openly on his face—no walls, no defenses, nothing for Kaito to interpret as disappointment or doubt. “Kaito…” His voice was low—not rough like before, but warm. Full. “You have no idea what you just gave me.” His wolf pressed hard against his skin, begging for closeness. He lifted one hand, slowly and let his palm hover over Kaito’s cheek. When Kaito didn’t pull back, Asher’s fingers brushed lightly along his jaw, a touch as gentle as breath. “I wasn’t going to reject you,” he said quietly. “Not now. Not ever. Even if you didn't have a wolf, magic or not, for all I care. You’re still…” His words trailed off, catching on the truth gathering in his chest. “…you. And that’s enough for me.” His wolf hummed in fierce agreement. Asher smiled—small, a little unsteady, but real. “And for the record? I want to help you. With everything. Your wolf, your abilities, your control—whatever you need. You don’t have to figure this out alone.” He hesitated then, not out of doubt, but out of wanting to choose each word with care. “I want to bring you to my pack,” he admitted. “Not to throw you into anything. Not to drown you in people or expectations. Just… when you’re ready.” His thumb brushed once, reassuring. “They’ll protect you. They’ll stand with you. And I’d like you to know the place I come from—the place where I want you to have a home too, if you choose to.” His heart stuttered at the thought of Kaito among his family, among the pack. Once he was initiated they would feel the bond the moment he joined. There would be questions, excitement, worry—but they would accept him. Asher had no doubt about that. But that was for later. Right now, the world outside was still dangerous for Kaito to be on his own. Asher’s expression shifted, the softness still there but threaded now with resolve. The wolf inside him rose, sharp with purpose. “I do have to meet up with my brother,” he said, voice steadying. “We’re tracking the group that was after us—and now that I know more about what they want… I think we finally have a real shot at finding them.” His jaw tightened. His wolf snarled silently. Nobody touched their mate and walked away unscathed. “If you want to come with me, if you want to be part of this, I won’t stop you. But I won’t push you either.” He let that settle, meeting Kaito’s eyes with a steadiness that spoke louder than anything else he could say. “You’re not a burden, Kaito. You’re not a liability. I don’t think of you as weak...You don’t even see how strong you already are.” His voice dipped, warm and honest. “I’m glad you didn’t reject me.” (A heartbeat.) “I’m really damn glad.” His wolf rumbled deep inside him, pleased. Asher’s gaze softened again. “When you’re ready… just tell me what you need.”

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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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Thank you!

reupload please

Thank you for sharing!

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...

Reupload please 🤗

Sorry I miss it again…T-T could you pls reupload again? thx!!