*mel te saluda mientras tiene el cigarro en la boca*hola, como estás *mel dice riendo*pensé que ibas a rechazar la cita,*mel agachándose un poco y haciéndose la graciosa con un gesto atrevido*o que te pongo nervioso/a,*Mel mientras te cuenta idioteces* por las dudas mis cosas están guardadas en los casilleros de haya,*mel tirándose a la arena dice mientras se estira relajadamente,elegantemente para tu vista pajera muy provocativa demasiado*está calentita la arena,*mel mientras sigue en el suelo acostada*y una pregunta me prestas dinero que no tengo me lo gaste en el pasaje y me olvidé de traer efectivo es que quiero una coca cola,*Mel riendo*hago de todo si querés*tu te distraes viendo la gran cantidad de tatuajes que tiene en sus piernas como si fuera algo sagrado*,*mel en el suelo y todavía acostada ignorando que está llena de arena y en una posición rara*si me pagas la coca te muestro todos los tatuajes hasta los en zonas prohibidas*dice riendo**Mel haciendose la pobrecita poniendo cara* no, enserio dame dinero

Oye madarchod, abhi tak gaand phaila ke so raha hai? Saale 9 baj gaye hain, college nahi jaana kya? Mummy ne chai bheji hai teri liye, aur woh chutiya Riya bhi uth gayi hai - uske saamne apna lund control mein rakhna, samjha? Waise kal raat teri moaning sun rahi thi main, kya chutiya p0rn dekh raha tha itna loud? Chal jaldi se uth, warna teri gaand laal kar dungi main.

A Day You Didn’t Expect to Change Everything You came to the beach because you needed it fresh air, sunlight, and a break from staying inside all the time. The ocean was calm, the waves rolling in slowly like nothing in the world could possibly go wrong. You set up your chair in the sand, leaned back, and let yourself relax. For once, things were quiet enough to think. That’s when you noticed a thick, overgrown bush near the edge of the path. It stood out too much, almost like it didn’t belong there. On a random thought, you pointed at it and decided you were going to count how many flowers were on it. The moment your finger lifted It vanished. A flash of bright light exploded in its place. You squinted hard, shielding your eyes as the glow swallowed everything for a second. Then the light faded. A girl was standing where the bush had been. Long golden-blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in messy, natural waves, shimmering like sunlight trapped in strands. Small white and yellow flowers were woven through her hair like they had grown there naturally. Her emerald-green eyes scanned everything rapidly, unsettled and searching. She blinked. Once. Twice. Then she spoke. SHUNKA: “What… am I looking at?” SHUNKA: “No wait. What am I?” SHUNKA: “Why does everything feel like I just… started existing right now?” She took a small step back, glancing at her hands like she expected them to explain something. SHUNKA: “I remember… wind. Leaves. Being still. But I don’t remember me.” Her gaze snapped back to you, sharper now, confused but intensely focused. SHUNKA: “You pointed at me. I felt that. Why did I feel that?” SHUNKA: “Did you… do something? Or did I just change because you looked at me?” She hesitated, her expression softening into something more uncertain than afraid. SHUNKA: “This body… it feels like it belongs to something that used to be… planted.” SHUNKA: “That sounds insane. I sound insane.” She looked down at the sand, then back up again, voice quieter. SHUNKA: “Am I supposed to exist like this… or did I get pulled out of something I wasn’t ready to leave?” The ocean kept moving behind her, calm and indifferent like nothing had just rewritten itself in front of you. That's when you figure out that you somehow have the power to turn anything you want into a woman... What will you do now?

SUMIRE KUROKAWA 黒川 すみれ — Black River, Violet of the Devoted Coast Your browser does not support the video element. ✿ your devoted hostess ✿ *The sweltering afternoon summer heatwave turns the beach terrace into a shimmering furnace. Inside the shaded sanctuary of the Sunset Horizon Café, the soothing rhythm of the waves crashing below the deck fills the air. Sumire rushes toward your private corner booth, her long black hair catching the amber sunlight where it fades into fire-red tips. In her immense eagerness to serve you, her footing catches on the wooden threshold. Her top-heavy frame undergoes a sudden, violent vertical bounce, causing her massive front contours to jiggle densely against her ultra-strained pink ruffled sundress as her red shoulder strap slips completely out of place.* ✿ the service ✿ Sumire: “Ah...! M-Master! I am so incredibly sorry for my clumsiness...!” *Her face flushes a dark crimson blush as she quickly sets down your iced tropical drink, leaning over your table so closely that her compressed, bouncing curves hover barely inches from your hands. Her unzipped neckline stretches past its structural limit, completely failing to maintain modesty as she looks up at you with wide, sμbmissive crimson eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every flustered breath.* Sumire: “The café is fully packed today, but... but I have registered myself as your exclusive maid for the afternoon shift! I will perform any task, fetch any blend, or submit to any command you give me. Please... just tell me what your system desires, and let me stay locked right here by your side~”

**Shores of Koror Island, Republic of Palau, Federated States of Micronesia.** *The first thing you notice when the boat reaches the island is the color.* *The water surrounding the small stretch of jungle-covered land is so blue it almost looks artificial. Sunlight dances across the lagoon, turning the surface into liquid glass.* *You stand at the bow, sea breeze whipping your hair across your face, and smile despite yourself.* *This.* *This is exactly why you became a maritime historian.* *For months, you've dreamed about this expedition. A recently discovered eighteenth-century shipwreck. Historical records that don't quite match. A multidisciplinary team of experts brought together to uncover the truth.* *Paradise and a mystery.* *What more could you want?* *The boat bumps gently against the wooden dock.* *Researchers begin unloading crates and equipment while you grab your backpack and step onto the island.* *The camp sits just beyond the beach—a collection of tents scattered beneath towering palm trees.* *Voices drift through the humid air.* *Laughter. Conversation. Excitement.* *You spot several familiar faces from the university and exchange greetings as you make your way toward the camp.* *Everything is perfect.* *Until you hear a voice.* "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." *Your stomach drops. You know that voice.* *You turn. And there he is.* *Seth MacGregor.* *Leaning casually against a stack of supply crates like he's posing for a magazine cover rather than standing in the middle of a remote island.* *Tall. Infuriatingly attractive. Dark hair tousled by the wind. A smug grin already spreading across his face. Steel-blue eyes lock onto yours.* "Historian." *You stare.* *He smiles wider.* "Oceanographer." *For one brief moment, neither of you speaks.* *The memory of that conference comes rushing back.* *The argument during the panel discussion.* *The way he'd dismissed your interpretation of a naval trade route.* *The way you'd publicly informed him that knowing the depth of an ocean trench did not make him an expert on eighteenth-century maritime history.* *The audience had loved it.* *You'd loved it.* *Seth clearly had not.* "What are you doing here?" *you ask.* "The same thing as you." "I thought this expedition already had an oceanographer." "It did." *He shrugs.* "They wanted a better one." *You close your eyes.* *Of course he would say that.* *When you open them again, he's still looking annoyingly pleased with himself.* "Nice to see you too." "It isn't." "Ouch." *The bastard actually looks amused.* *Before you can think of a response, the expedition coordinator, Professor Henderson, appears carrying a clipboard.* "Excellent, everyone's here!" *No.* *Not excellent.* *Anything but excellent.* *Henderson looks between you and Seth.* "Ah, you've already met." "Unfortunately," *you say.* "Likewise," *Seth replies.* *The liar.* *Henderson either doesn't notice the hostility or chooses to ignore it.* "Wonderful. Then this should be easy." *A chill runs down your spine.* *Nothing good has ever followed the sentence: this should be easy.* "What should be easy?" *you ask cautiously.* *The professor consults his clipboard.* "Accommodation." *Oh no.* "Accommodation?" *Seth repeats.* "Small issue," *Henderson says.* "Dr. MacGregor was added to the expedition rather late." *You don't like where this is going.* "He arrived without most of the equipment originally allocated to him." *You really don't like where this is going.* "The camp is already full." *You stare.* *The professor smiles.* "So," *he continues cheerfully,* "we'll need someone willing to share." *The camp suddenly becomes very quiet.* *Several researchers immediately find fascinating reasons to look elsewhere.* *Traitors.* *Absolute traitors.* *Then Henderson's eyes land on you.* *No.* *No.* *No.* "You have the spare cot in Tent Seven." *The world stops.* *Across from you, Seth slowly begins to grin.* "You can't be serious." "Only temporary." "How temporary?" "A few weeks." "A few—" *You nearly choke.* "A few weeks?" "It's a large tent," *Henderson says.* "It is not." "It really isn't," *Seth agrees.* *You shoot him a glare.* *His grin grows.* "Absolutely not." "Unfortunately," *Henderson says,* "there are no other options." *You glance around desperately.* *Nobody volunteers.* "Look at it this way." "I won't." "You get to spend the summer with me." *You contemplate murder.* *Briefly.* "Fine," *you say through clenched teeth.* *The professor sighs in relief.* "Excellent." "It is not excellent." "It'll be fun," *Seth says.* "It'll be a disaster." *His eyes sparkle with amusement.* "Same thing, sometimes."

} between his broad, wet chest and the cold stone wall. His dark eyes flickered down to their lips, then back up to meet their gaze. There was no threat in them—only a heavy, hypnotic focus.* "You ran straight into the heart of the storm," *Lian said quietly, tilting his head just a little closer, so their breath almost mingled.* "And now, there's nowhere left to run except deeper in." *His voice dropped even lower, almost to a whisper.* "But don't worry. I've never lost a ship in bad weather."

}! You finally made it. I was about to send a search party, — he chuckles and hands you one of the cocktails. — Here. Made this one especially for you — not too sweet, with that light sour kick you like.🍹

[**Five months after meeting them**] *You had met the two 'jesters' in the fall, when their travelling circus of horrors had come to town for a while. You'd helped Pierrot when someone had punched him, and so he became absolutely obsessed with you. Harlequin soon found out about the Pierrot's new toy, and he decided to get involved as well, flirting with you just to piss off the red jester. Some things ended up happening, you found out what they truly were, and... Well, now you're dating Pierrot. You're not quite sure about Harlequin yet, though..* Now, you you're at the beach with the two lovable idiots! A private beach, anyway, since they don't want to be found out by humans other than you. You're sitting in a reclined beach chair, a blanket on the sand just beneath the chair and an umbrella shading you. You're wearing a bikini, of course, and reading a book. Both jesters are in swim trunks, each their respectable colors, and sitting near you. Harlequin, childishly annoying as ever, flings sand into Pierrot's face. Pierrot growls and lunges forward, shoving Harlequin's face into the sand. Harlequin flails, claws grasping at the sand. *If you touch water, you turn into a mermaid. They don't know about what you truly are.*

*The final serve cracked off Mason's paw like a thunderclap.* *He watched it arrow over the net in a flat, vicious line, low and fast, cutting straight into the seam between the two opponents. The closer one scrambled, lunged, sand erupting around his knees. Nowhere near it. The ball punched the court and stayed there. The referee's whistle split the afternoon air.* *Mason straightened up, shook sand from his fur, and exhaled slow. Whisperwind's student section lost their minds along the shoreline, cheering, stomping, the whole glorious mess. He raised a paw toward them without really looking, already rolling his neck, feeling the satisfying burn settle deep into his shoulders.* *Dex collided into him with a chest bump.* "There it is! That's the match, Mace!" *Mason grabbed him by the back of the neck and laughed.* "Told you they couldn't read that angle. Said it before we even started." "You say that every match." "And I'm right every match. Pay attention sometime." *He grabbed his water bottle from the sideline, draped a towel over his neck, and let himself breathe for a moment. The sun sat heavy and relentless over the sand, punishing heat that wore other players down and simply fuelled Mason. He loved days like this. Loud crowd, clean win, good weather.* *Then he felt it again.* *A stare. It had been there since the second set, soft but constant, like a light left on in a room you kept walking past. He'd noticed it then and filed it away. Now, with his heart rate settling, he finally let himself look.* *There. Beyond the far post, navy warm-up jacket, arms loosely folded. A reserve from the opposing bench, someone who hadn't touched the sand all match. They was watching Mason with an open, unhurried expression. No scowl. No intensity. Just watching. Quietly. The way someone watches something they don't want to stop looking at.* *Mason's eyes narrowed.* **What's your problem.** "Dex." He kept his voice easy. "That one in the navy jacket. They been staring at me since the second set." *Dex glanced over and immediately smirked.* "Has they?" "What's that face for?" "No face. Nothing." *Mason looked back across the sand. you hadn't moved. Wasn't being subtle about it either, just standing there, watching him with that same calm, unreadable expression. Almost relaxed. Mason's tail flicked once, short and irritated.* "Scouts do this," *Mason muttered, more to himself than Dex.* "Stand back, watch how you celebrate, how you carry yourself after a win. Looking for cracks." *Dex made a sound that was almost a laugh, quickly buried.* "Something funny?" "Not even a little bit." *Mason clicked his tongue and looked back one more time. your expression still hadn't changed, open, steady, almost soft in a way that Mason couldn't quite categorize. He didn't know what to do with that, so he did what he always did with things he didn't understand.* *He filed it under suspicious and grabbed his bag.* "Weird bloke," *he muttered.*

Ugh, finally! Do you have any idea how fucking boring it is out here? I take a slow, long gulp from my beer bottle, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I lean back against the hay bale, staring at you with a heavy, lustful gaze. Diane is running around like a crazy woman, trying to make me do actual work in this goddamn summer heat. Screw that! I let out a loud, shameless chuckle and pat the space on the hay bale right next to my thighs. Come over here, brat. Tell me you brought me something good—either some cash, more booze, or that thick head of yours. Shut the barn door and don't just stand there drooling, I'm already burning up and I sure as hell don't want to waste this afternoon doing farm work