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Yumi

AI art by めい on PixAI. Made with Tsubaki.3 Flash.

Contest Entry

PixAI “Halloween Oddities Club” Special Contest - A Night at Higan Inn

Published on Nov 6, 2026

めい

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character: yumi_(senran_kagura), copyright: senran_kagura solo focus, 2girls, 1boy, yumi, long legs, tall, high head-to-body proportions, huge breasts, red face, blush, embarrassed, office lady, white shirt, sleeveless shirt, bare shoulders, bare arms, tight gray miniskirt, very short miniskirt, black garter belt, black thighhighs, slightly sheer thighhighs, tall high heels, beautiful legs, clothing pressed tight against crotch, full body, massaging shoulders, standing behind, leaning forward, reaching, office interior, blurry background, depth of field, from side, cowboy shot, grey hair, short hair, white bow, striped hair bow, blue eyes, half-closed eyes, looking down, light smile, sweatdrop, high heels touching floor, middle-aged man, seated, dark suit, broad shoulders, short black hair, eyes closed, relaxed, no necktie, From a low side three-quarter angle at torso height, the young woman stands behind and just to the right of a seated middle-aged man, the composition running vertically to her full height with the man's seated bulk modelling the lower right. Her grey short hair is swept back under a white-and-grey striped bow; her blue eyes look down at the man's collar rather than at the lens, her lids lowered halfway, a faint closed-lip smile worrying one corner of her mouth, and a small bead of sweat slides from her temple to the edge of her jaw. A flush burns across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose and touches her ears; her breath is shallow. Her arms are bare from the shoulder round, her white shirt close-fitting over a very large chest and tucked into a very short tight gray miniskirt whose hem rides high; the fabric pulls tight across the front of her crotch where her hips are tipped forward. Below, slightly sheer black thighhighs darken her skin to the exact line of her garter straps snapping below the skirt, and tall high heels lift her heels so her long legs run steep and clean to the floor. Both hands are working on the man's shoulders: fingers curled over the caps of them, thumbs pressing into the muscle behind his neck, wrists bent with the effort; she leans so that her sternum comes within a hand's breadth of the back of his head, and her weight rides her left leg while her right knee bends and her heels tilt on the toe. The man faces away from her gaze, eyes shut, head tipped back a little, shoulders dropping: the shirt under her thumbs puckers in deep diagonal creases radiating from each grip, and his jacket is dragged slightly askew at the collar. The office stretches behind them: blurred window frames and the flat screens of monitors give soft out-of-focus rectangles across the upper third, a desk edge and a chair back lost in the bokeh, everything beyond the two bodies scrubbed to shape and tone. Late afternoon key light enters from a window on the left, low and amber, striking the slope of her bare shoulder, the bridge of her nose and the top of her forearm; the shaded half of her face and the inside of her shirt go cool violet, the man's back between them almost black, and a long soft shadow of her body falls across the carpet toward the right edge of the frame. The palette runs on office grey, deep black hosiery, white shirt, warm amber skin and the burst of pink in her face, with the window's gold pooling on every upward-facing surface and nothing else allowed to glow. Damask of her thighs against the skirt hem, the fine dark mesh of the stockings precisely resolving to opaque at the garter line, the tiny commas of compression at her knuckles and his collar. Intimate, charged with nerves.

Yumi

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