Yuna stalked forward with fluid movements that somehow managed to look both graceful and malicious. She dropped to her knees beside Makoto and grabbed Mika's wrists with practiced ease.
Mika didn't fight back. She didn't struggle at all.
She just lay there with a small, knowing smile on her face, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"You're in so much trouble," Yuna whispered, her voice cracking slightly.
Her breath was warm against Mika's cheek. "He's going to make you pay for what you did."
Mika laughed softly, the sound echoing through the sun-filled room. "Oh, I'm counting on it."
She looked up at Makoto with wide eyes, feigning innocence. "Be gentle with me," she whispered, her voice going raspy. "It's my first time."
Makoto grinned slowly, looking almost predatory. "Well, since you kissed me without my permission, now you need to experience the same."
He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in a deep, suffocating kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth thoroughly.
After what felt like forever, he finally pulled back. "You can take my turn now, Yuna. Don't let her rest!"
Yuna's grin turned absolutely feral. "With pleasure," she hissed. The second Makoto's lips left Mika's, she swooped in with brutal possessiveness.
This wasn't a passionate kiss. It was raw and territorial, like she was marking her territory.
Her teeth scraped against Mika's lips while her tongue dominated the space between them.
Pinned beneath her, Mika could only make muffled whimpering sounds. Her head tried to thrash against the floor, but Yuna held her firmly in place.
When Yuna finally pulled back, a thin trail of saliva still connected their swollen lips. Mika was gasping for air, her face completely flushed.
Her eyes were wide with shock mixed with something that looked suspiciously like excitement.
"See?" Yuna purred triumphantly. She glanced up at Makoto with blazing eyes. "This is how you punish a bad girl."
She leaned back down until her lips hovered just inches from Mika's. "Are you ready for round two?"
"Of course," Makoto murmured appreciatively.
They kept taking turns kissing poor Mika while she remained pinned to the floor.
Maybe half an hour passed. Maybe a full hour. When they finally stopped, Makoto straightened up. "I hope that taught you a lesson about kissing people without consent, Mika."
Mika lay there looking like a beautiful mess.
Her sundress was completely wrinkled, her hair had become a chaotic tangle, and her lips were red and swollen. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath with short, shallow gasps.
But she didn't look punished at all. She looked ecstatic.
A slow smile spread across her face. "Lesson learned," she whispered hoarsely.
She looked between Makoto and Yuna, with that sparkle already back in her eyes. "I'll be sure to ask for your permission next time."
She pushed herself up unsteadily and made her way to the dining table, her hips swaying maybe a bit more than necessary.
She picked up the half-finished Marin Kitagawa school uniform. "Now," she said, her voice suddenly loud and cheerful. "I believe we have some costumes to finish."
She turned around with a wicked glint in her eye. "And a sleepover to prepare for."
Makoto started collecting the plates and cleaning up the floor, wearing a fond smile. "Right, right, I had almost forgotten about the costumes."
He glanced at Mika with mischief in his eyes. "Let's get back to it. By the way, your lips taste like ramune soda, Mika."
Pink bloomed across Mika's cheeks, but she smiled knowingly. "And yours tastes like lipstick," she replied with amusement. "And Yuna."
From the corner where she'd been quietly seething, Yuna let out a sharp snort. "Of course he does. He's been marked!"
She grabbed the Shizuku-tan costume, the black lace standing out starkly against her pale skin. "Now," she announced loudly and cheerfully. "Let's get back to work."
The room's atmosphere had shifted completely again.
The angry jealousy from earlier was gone, replaced by something else entirely. Something playful yet dangerous.
The three of them settled into comfortable silence as they worked, with only the steady hum of the sewing machine and occasional clink of pins breaking the quiet.
But every so often, Makoto caught them exchanging glances. Silent challenges passed between them through those looks.
After what felt like hours, the costumes were finally taking shape.
"Done?" he asked, looking up from his screen.
There was hope in his voice, mixed with something else. Maybe disappointment that the peaceful afternoon was ending. "Maybe we can try them on first, and then we can adjust them later?"
Yuna held up the Shizuku-tan costume with both hands, grinning like she'd just won a prize. The black lace caught the light, showing off the intricate stitching she'd spent so long perfecting.
It was beautiful. It was also incredibly revealing, with strategic cutouts that left very little to the imagination.
"Done," she announced, drawing out the word.
Mika lifted the Marin Kitagawa school uniform for inspection.
Everything about it was perfect. The pleats fell in crisp lines, the seams ran straight and true, and she'd even managed to tie the uniform tie in a neat knot.
"Done," she said softly, tilting her head as she examined her work one more time.
The two girls looked at each other. Something unspoken passed between them, a challenge maybe, or a dare. Then they both turned to look at him.
"So," Yuna said, her voice suddenly bright and loud. "Who gets to go first?"
Mika's smile was small but knowing. "I think we should go at the same time."
She glanced at Yuna, and there was definitely mischief in her eyes now. "In the same room. To save time, of course."
Makoto let out a nervous giggle. His mind was already racing ahead to what was about to happen.
"Umm, can I stay to... watch? Or not?" He was already half out of his chair, ready to make his escape.
Yuna's laugh was sharp. "Leaving?"
She moved toward him with purpose, backing him up until he had no choice but to sit on the edge of the sofa. "You're not going anywhere, you fucking pervert."
She leaned down, placing her hands on his knees to trap him in place.
Her face was close enough that he could smell her shampoo mixed with the scent of fabric and thread from their work.
"You started this," she whispered. "And you're going to sit right there, and you're going to watch. And you're going to tell us who looks better."