The photos turned out to be incredible.
Their solo shots were stunning: Yuna's deadly grace, Ayane's shameless, unapologetic joy, and Mika's heartbreakingly beautiful were all perfectly captured. But the group shots were the real masterpieces: Yuna's foot on Mika's back, Ayane's triumphant, possessive group hug.
Then come the naughty ones: Yuna and Ayane at Makoto's feet, their obscene, competitive devotion. And the final, glorious shot, the moment of release when he painted Ayane and Yuna's faces with his cum.
"Wow," Ayane breathed, her voice caught between awe and excitement. "We look... amazing."
"We should sell this one as a poster," Mika added in a calm, even monotone, pointing to the shot of Yuna's cum-splattered, furious face. "I think it would be very popular."
"Are you trying to get us arrested for public indecency, bitch !?" Yuna gritted her teeth, almost leaning in to bite Mika's pointing finger.
"No NSFW stuff! They're for my eyes only," Makoto grunted, and smacked Mika's ass. "Seems like you've forgotten the lesson from the last time. How many times do I need to remind you again, huh?"
Mika let out a sharp, surprised yelp as Makoto's hand connected. "Ow," she groaned, then she leaned into him with a grin on her face. "I'm sorry, I forgot again, Master." She didn't look sorry at all.
Makoto turned to Yuna. "So, Miss Main Wife, as the one who leads this cosplay project, you get to select the first poster for printing."
His offer was a masterstroke; it was a public declaration of Yuna's authority, a validation of her "Main Wife" status. Yuna's grumpy, resentful silence died down. Her eyes, which had been narrowed with jealous fury, widened.
She looked from Makoto's face to the laptop screen, a reluctant smile spreading across her lips. "Me?" she said, her voice dropping to a triumphant purr. "Well, obviously. I have the best artistic sense."
She snatched his laptop, her posture changing instantly. She scrolled through the photos with focused, professional intensity, her brow furrowed in concentration. She zoomed in on angles, analyzed the lighting, and critiqued the poses.
"No, that one makes Ayane's boobs look lopsided."
"This one's good, but Mika looks too... smug."
"Ugh, I look like a fat Hashira in this one."
Finally, she stopped on one. It was one of the "cutesy" shots she had posed together with Mika, the one where she hugged a muzzled, kneeling Nezuko, with a saccharine sweetness on her face. "This one, it's perfect and wholesome, on the surface."
Her hand stopped at the Hashira Group Hug photo, and she pouted. "And this one would be a decent cover for our photobook. At least I don't look fat in there!"
"Good, we can do the retouching later before sending it for printing," Makoto said and started transferring the files to his laptop.
"Retouching?" Ayane perked up, her eyes lighting with mischief. "Ooh, can I help, boss? I'm great with Photoshop. I can make my boobs even bigger. And I can... you know... remove some of the less flattering angles of certain other people." She gave Yuna a teasing wink.
"You're not touching my face or my body with your pirated software, you cow," Yuna snarled, but there was a new, almost playful energy in her voice. The photoshoot, the drama, and the double blowjob... it had all been a weird but enjoyable bonding experience.
In the corner of the room, sitting quietly at the dining table with a cup of tea in her hand, was Mafuyu. She was watching with a small, almost sad smile on her face. It was a smile that said, "I'm so happy for you all." But also, "I might never be a part of this, of their chaotic little family."
Makoto noticed the sad smile on Mafuyu's face. "Do you want to try my Muzan kimono, Mafuyu-nee? It's a cheap one, but it's my size so it should fit you too," he said, winking at Yuna and Mika to signal them to help.
Yuna froze. She looked from his winking face and realized Mafuyu's sad, lonely form at the table. A complex, almost unreadable expression crossed her face. For a moment, her usual selfish tsundere instincts warred with something else. Empathy, maybe?
Mika, however, understood instantly. Her calculating mask softened into a look of genuine concern. She was the first to move. "That's a wonderful idea, darling," She glided over to the pile of costumes and picked up his cheap, polyester Muzan kimono, unfolding it with reverent care.
"You should try it, Mafuyu-san," Mika said in her soothing voice. She held the kimono out. "The fabric is quite soft for a cheap one, and the cut is very elegant."
Ayane, catching on, joined the effort. "Yeah, come on, Mama-fu!" she said with cheerful enthusiasm. "You can't just be the team mom forever! You have to join in the fun!" She gently pulled Mafuyu to her feet. "We can even do your makeup! We'll make you a beautiful, terrifying demon queen!"
Yuna just watched with her arms crossed and a stubborn pout on her face. But her eyes were fixed on Mafuyu with a strange, almost reluctant curiosity.
Mafuyu looked at the offered kimono, then at the three expectant faces. A deep blush spread from her neck to the tips of her ears. "I... I couldn't, I'm too old for those," she whispered. "I'd look... ridiculous."
"Come on, you wouldn't know until you've tried," Makoto giggled. "Don't worry, we're not going to take any photos or... force you to serve me." The mention of Mika's "service" made Mafuyu's blush deepen to an almost nuclear shade of crimson.
"He's right," Ayane said, her voice gentle and encouraging. She took the kimono from Mika's hand and draped it over Mafuyu's shoulders. The cheap, black fabric was a stark contrast against the simple, elegant sundress she had borrowed from Mika.
"We'll help you," Mika added softly, taking Mafuyu's hand. Her touch was surprisingly warm and steady.
Yuna let out a long, theatrical sigh. "Oh, for god's sake," she muttered. She stomped over with a determined, angry glint in her eyes. Without saying anything, she started to unbutton the back of Mafuyu's sundress. Her movements were a little rough and impatient, but not unkind.
Mafuyu stood there like a statue as she was undressed and then redressed by a chaotic yet surprisingly gentle army of her new family.
The kimono was, as Makoto had predicted, a little too big. The sleeves were too long, and the hem pooled at her feet.
But on Mafuyu, it was amazing. The dark, almost severe fabric, combined with her soft, gentle features and her impossibly curvy, almost maternal body, created a beautiful contradiction. She was now a demon empress, a dark, beautiful mother-figure.
The three girls just stared, their mouths slightly agape.
"Wow," Ayane breathed.
"Holy shit," Yuna muttered, her voice a low, grudging murmur of appreciation.
Mika just smiled. "I think," she said, "that we might have a new member of our cosplay group."
Makoto turned around and almost gasped at the sight in front of his eyes. "Hmm, see, even cheap clothes look good on you, Mafuyu-nee. Come, turn around and show us."
Mafuyu-nee just stood there, her face a captivating shade of crimson. She clutched the front of the kimono in mortified instinct. "No," she whispered. "I... I can't."
"Oh, yes, you can," Yuna said. But there was a new, almost supportive tone to it. She gave Mafuyu a gentle nudge. "Stop being a baby, Mafuyu-nee. You look great."
"You look beautiful," Mika added softly, giving Mafuyu's hand a gentle, encouraging squeeze.
"He's right," Ayane said cheerfully. "You're a total MILF. Own it!" The word, so crass and inappropriate, but utterly Ayane, seemed to break the spell. A soft chuckle escaped Mafuyu-nee's lips.
Mafuyu took a deep, shuddering breath. And then, she turned. It was a hesitant and clumsy twirl, but it was a twirl nonetheless. The cheap, black fabric swirled around her like a dark, elegant storm.
The terrified, bruised woman from the supermarket was gone. The sad, lonely ghost from the love hotel was gone. In their place was her, Mafuyu, now a beautiful, powerful, and lively woman.
She looked at Makoto with a shy smile. "Well? How do I look, honey?" she whispered.