Makoto patted Ayane's finger away, "Well, but still, you... you didn't do your promo job properly, so..." he stuttered. "As your punishment, serve my cock with those cleavages. I don't like how people have been looking at my Mitsuri, no, my Ayane, like that."
Her amusement melted into something else entirely when he stuttered out his command. The possessiveness in his voice, his calling her "my Ayane," and the sheer audacity of his request hit her like a lightning bolt.
Her grin widened into something sharp. "Your Ayane, huh, harem king?" she purred, her voice dropping to a low, husky drawl that vibrated through his entire body. "I like the sound of that."
Ayane glanced over her shoulder, down the short corridor. A couple in matching Pikachu hoodies walked past, completely oblivious. She turned back to Makoto, her eyes blazing with wicked light. "Right here?" she whispered, the thrill of risk making her voice tremble. "Where anyone could walk by? You're a terrible, horny demon lord."
She didn't wait for another command. With grace, she reached down and pulled open the gaps of her shirt even wider, making her big boobs spill out. She leaned in between his legs and took his recovering cock in her hand.
"Hmm, smells like someone already tasted it before me, boss." She pouted and guided it into the warm, soft valley between her massive, pillowy breasts. The feeling was instantaneous and overwhelming: soft, powdered skin, the crushing weight of her cleavage, and the sheer, brazen risk of it all.
"Does this better than her?" she whispered, her breath hot against his thigh as she began to move, her body rocking in a slow, rhythmic motion.
"Hmm, not too bad," Makoto said, looking down and moaning with a smug voice. "They can look all they want, but only I get to stuff my cock between these."
"That's right," Ayane's voice vibrated through her chest and directly into his cock. When she looked up at him, her eyes were blown wide with lust and glee. "My tits are yours, my body is yours too, Makoto. Let them look! Let them all fucking look and see who owns me."
His possessive words were the perfect fuel for her fire. She groaned and increased her pace. Her voice was a deep, throaty sound of overwhelming pleasure. Her breasts squeezed and slid against him, the friction building into unbearable, exquisite heat.
Ayane started to use her other hand too, her fingers wrapping around his balls, trapping him completely in her soft, warm flesh. She peeked over her shoulder, a thrilling glint in her eyes as she saw a group of teenagers in Sailor Moon costumes walk past the end of the corridor. Fortunately, they didn't look over.
The risk and the near-miss sent a visible jolt of ecstasy through her. "They have no idea," she whispered with a maniacal grin. "No idea what a good little slut I am right now." She panted, her breath hot and ragged. "Fuck, say it again, Makoto! Tell me I'm yours."
"You're mine, always mine, Ayane," he groaned, patting her head. The words were the final, devastating blow. "Almost there... Swallow it or let it spill on your boobs, I don't care." He moaned, biting his lips as his cock jerked hard between her breasts.
The choice he gave her sent another jolt of ecstasy through her. It was a perfect degrading command. And she made her choice in an instant; she wanted the mess and the proof.
Makoto's body went rigid, his back arching as his orgasm ripped through him. He grunted and made a deep, guttural sound, thankfully muffled by the ambient noise of the con, before he flooded the valley between her breasts with his thick cum.
Ayane cried out but she didn't stop moving. She kept rubbing herself against his cock, smearing his release all over her cleavage, onto the delicate pink fabric of her Mitsuri costume.
Now she was a beautiful, ruined mess. Her hair was disheveled, her face a bit flushed, with his cum glistening on her powdered skin, a stark white testament to her power over him.
She looked down at the mess, then back up at him, her eyes blazing with wild, possessive fire. "See? Now everyone will know whose Mitsuri belongs to. That was quite... impressive for you to let out that much. I thought we drained you dry, demon king!"
Without another word, she reached into a small, hidden pouch on her thigh strap and pulled out a packet of wet wipes. She sucked his cock clean, then started cleaning herself up. "Don't worry," she said with a wink, her voice slowly returning to its usual lazy drawl. "The Love Pillar is always prepared for any sticky situation."
She threw the used wipes into the bin nearby. "Now, I believe it's my turn to go sell some merchandise. We don't want to keep our adoring fans waiting, do we?"
"Yeah, let's go back," Makoto said, grasping her hand as they walked back to their booth. "We should buy some food for lunch. The girls must be hungry."
"Good idea," Ayane said, her voice still a little breathless. She squeezed his hand, her fingers lacing through his with comfortable, possessive confidence. "All that promo work has made me starving."
The walk back was a completely different experience. Before, he was a lone demon lord on a mission. Now, he was a demon lord with his lewd Love Pillar on his arm. Heads turned, phones were subtly raised to take pictures. A few people whispered, "Are they a couple? Their cosplays are perfect!"
Ayane preened under the attention, her walk becoming more of a catwalk. She leaned in close and murmured. "Look, they're all so jealous. They wish they had a big, scary demon king to spoil them."
They stopped by a row of food stalls, filled with the delicious, greasy smell of festival food. They ended up with an armful of takoyaki, yakisoba, and several bottles of ramune. Ayane insisted on carrying the bags.
As Makoto approached the booth, he could see the whole team in full swing. Yuna was at the front, her arms crossed, looking terrifying and magnificent as Shinobu. She was in the middle of browbeating a nervous-looking teenager.
"Are you going to buy it or just stare at it, you pervert?!" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "The photobook isn't going to jump into your bag by itself!"
The boy, looking both terrified and thrilled, hastily shoved a handful of yen at Mika, who took it with a serene smile and handed him a bagged photobook. Mafuyu was in the background, diligently organizing the cash box and keeping the remaining merchandise looking neat and tidy. The operation was running with terrifying, tsundere-fueled efficiency.
They both looked up as he arrived. Yuna's eyes immediately locked onto their intertwined hands, and her face darkened into a familiar scowl. "About damn time," she snarled, snatching a box of takoyaki from the bag Ayane was holding. "We're almost sold out of the Shinobu keychains. What were you two doing, getting married?"
Mika just offered a calm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She took a bottle of ramune, her gaze lingering for a fraction of a second on Ayane's still-flushed face. "You look... refreshed, Ayane-chan!"
"Ahem, I just helped Ayane wipe some... takoyaki sauce that had gotten on her fabrics. Let's take a break." Makoto cleared his throat and set up an "On Break" sign.
"Takoyaki sauce?" Yuna's voice was dangerously quiet. She stopped mid-chew, a piece of octopus tentacle hanging comically from her lips. She slowly swallowed, her violet eyes narrowing to razor-thin slits.
"Takoyaki sauce," Yuna repeated and took a deep sniff, the words dripping with sarcasm so thick it could choke a horse. "That's a new name for it. Was it... white and sticky?"
Ayane let out a delighted, shameless giggle. "Oh, absolutely," she said, her voice a lazy purr as she took a seat and cracked open a bottle of ramune. "It got everywhere. He's just so... clumsy with his sauce." She winked at Makoto over the top of the bottle.
Mika took a napkin from the stack and offered it to Ayane. "Here, Ayane-chan. You missed a spot right on your... collarbone."
Ayane's eyes widen in shock, making her look like a cat being caught in the act as she takes the napkin from Mika. As she slowly wiped her neck, she finally realized it. There was, of course, nothing on her collarbone. The gesture was just an act of psychological warfare.
"Everyone must be exhausted," Mafuyu interjected, quickly portioning out the yakisoba onto paper plates. "We should eat while we have the chance. The afternoon rush is going to be very busy, I think."
The four of them sat together in simmering jealousy and unspoken truths. Yuna glared at Makoto, stabbing a piece of takoyaki with a ferocity that suggested she was picturing his face.
Ayane ate with a blissful, triumphant smirk. Mika ate with an eerie grace, her pink eyes never leaving him. And Mafuyu just did her best to make sure everyone had enough water.