Chapter 3270 - Kpop Demon Hunters 1

"HUNTRIX! HUNTRIX! HUNTRIX!"

The chant was still echoing in your skull long after the lights had gone down. You could hear it in the vibration of the hallway floor, in the buzz of the overhead fluorescents, even in the shallow rhythm of your own breathing. Backstage, the air smelled of hairspray and pyrotechnics, a heady cocktail of smoke, perfume, and adrenaline. Someone rushed past, holding a headset and a clipboard. All the while, you stood there clutching your backstage pass as if it might vanish if you let go.

A door swung open down the hall, and Bobby appeared–short, slightly rotund, jacket half-buttoned. His familiar HUNTRIX lanyard bounced against his chest, confetti falling off his shoulders. You knew who he was; anyone who was a fan of the group did. Bobby was the infamous manager of the group, though for what depended on who you asked. For most, he was the quirky, non-threatening manager that most adored.

"There you are! Okay, first of all, congrats, you're the lucky fan tonight! Big deal. Huge! Try not to faint."

"I-I'm fine."

"Sure you are." Bobby smiled at you in a way that told you he'd heard that a thousand times before turning on his heel. "Follow me. Don't touch anything. Don't wander. Don't look at any doors that say restricted."

You hurried after him, trying to keep pace as he zigzagged through the maze of equipment cases and coiled cables. Every few steps, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure you hadn't disappeared. It was honestly impressive how someone who seemed so unathletic could maneuver the backstage area like it was the back of his hand. Though you suppose in many ways, it probably was.

"Alright, guidelines," Bobby said, holding up a single finger for each. "One, don't record anything. Two, don't ask for autographs on…weird body parts. Three, if Rumi's makeup artist throws a brush, duck. And four, this is important, remember she's still in performance mode, so don't freak her out with sudden declarations of eternal love. Got it?"

"Got it."

You barely managed to nod your agreement before he stopped abruptly, pulling a folded document from the inner pocket of his jacket and thrusting it toward you. "Non-disclosure agreement. Legal says I have to say that out loud. Initial here, sign there, and promise not to vomit the cheap nachos you had earlier in your excitement–there was a whole recurring thing with that last time around."

"Is there anything I should be worried about…?"

"Of course not! It's only to protect the artist's privacy and ensure the experience with the fan is special and meaningful."

You raised an eyebrow as if to question how many times he'd repeated that corporate line, but Bobby was already slipping a pen into your hand. Well, if silence was the fee for getting to meet Rumi, then it was one you'd happily pay. Without a second guess, you scribbled your initials and signed where he told you to. Bobby snatched the form back, clapping his hands together.

"Excellent! You're officially trustworthy for the next fifteen minutes–give or take." He gestured to a door a few paces away, "Rumi's inside waiting. Don't trip on your own awe. And don't forget to smile!"

With that, he patted your shoulder and disappeared down another corridor, humming the chorus of Golden under his breath. The chants of the crowd still thrummed faintly in your ears as Bobby's footsteps faded. For a moment, you just stood there outside the dressing-room door, trying to compose yourself and go over the questions you had prepared in your mind. After taking a breath to steady yourself, you reached out and knocked.

"Uhm, Ms. Rumi?"

A voice, light and warm, answered, "Come in!"

You reached for the door handle, pushing open the door to the dressing room. Despite your anxiety, the room was more or less what you expected. Vanities with large mirrors and bright light bulbs. Racks of clothing for each outfit change were a mess in the post-show. A stylist darted past you, carrying an armful of sequined jackets, mumbling apologies as she disappeared into the corridor.

In the center vanity was Rumi, her braid still tight, streaks of glitter dusting her shoulders where the stage lights had caught her earlier. You could see her reflection in the mirror–brown eyes soft with winged eyeliner. When Rumi turned, the smile that broke across her face didn't look rehearsed at all.

"Oh! You're my guest tonight!" She rose gracefully,"How was the show? Did we sound okay out there?"

"It was, uh, incredible! You were incredible. A-all of you, of course. But you especially."

Rumi grinned wider, stepping closer until she was almost invading your personal space without realizing it. "Aw, thank you. You guys are always cute when you get nervous."

That alone could have made you faint. It might have if you weren't so focused on staying upright so you didn't embarrass yourself. You kept your gaze directed at Rumi. Up close, Rumi was even more beautiful than from afar or on the screens. The defined shape of her face softened by sweat and light, stray hairs escaping her braid, the stage glow that seemed to cling to her. You caught the faint trace of expensive perfume.

"Where are Mira and Zoey?" you asked before thinking.

Rumi tilted her head, a small, knowing pause.

"They're…busy," she said lightly, almost amused. "Interviews, photo ops, you know how it is."

You didn't, at all, but you didn't feel the need to point that out to her. Rumi gestured to the couch along the wall, the cushions scattered with costume jewelry and a half-empty bottle of water.

"Sit, please. You look like you haven't taken a breath since the encore."

You sat, your hands clasped in your lap as she moved about the room, unhooking earrings, wiping at the corner of her mouth with a cloth. It was all very casual, almost as if you were seeing a star undressed metaphorically as well as literally. As if she were transforming from Rumi into just Rumi Kang. Though to your eyes the two were still inseparable. In fact, it felt like you were breaking some taboo even seeing it.

"That's better," Rumi declared once she was done.

She turned back to face you, her gaze lingering on you with a soft but knowing smile on her lips. She crossed the distance between you, her encore t-shirt hanging off one shoulder as she settled on the edge of the couch beside you.

"So, did Bobby tell you how long you have?"

"Fif–fifteen minutes, I think? Probably less now…"

Rumi laughed as if you had told a joke, waving her hand dismissively. When the laughter subsided, her hand had found its way to your knee. The gesture was so casual that you thought you might've imagined it. "Oh, don't worry about that. Bobby's just…well, Bobby. He means well."

Her thumb began to trace a slow, comforting pattern against the fabric of your jeans. Her eyes briefly.flicked down to the lanyard still hanging around your neck. Her head tilted slightly, her braid shifting to the side.

"So tell me, what do you want from me tonight? An autograph? Maybe a photo to show your friends? Just…please don't ask me to do aegyo. I can't handle that after a full concert."

"No aegyo, I promise."

A short chuckle left you as you scratched the back of your neck. In truth, you had been in such shock over winning to begin with that you hadn't given much thought to what you'd say or do when you actually met Rumi. When you didn't answer right away, she shifted closer, her touch on your knee remaining.

"If you're really undecided I can decide for you?" Rumi offered.

Something about the way she said that simple question while looking at you had your brain short-circuiting.

"I–well...what did you have in mind?"

Rumi's smile widened into a playful expression. "A selfie! Something to remember tonight by. You can show all your friends that you actually met me and didn't just make it up."

"Oh–yeah, that sounds great."

You fumbled for your phone, hastily pulling it out of your pocket. When you finally managed it, Rumi reached over, plucking the device from your grasp with ease.

"Here, let me."

She shifted on the couch, angling herself beside you. Then, without warning, she pressed in close. Her cheek found yours, warm and soft, the faint scent of her perfume and sweat filling your senses. You could feel the shape of her smile against your skin.

"Alright, ready?" She held the phone up, adjusting the angle in a way that spoke to too many photoshoots and even more selfies. Before she could tap the screen though, Rumi paused, pulling back slightly, her gaze flicking over to you. "Wait. Do you mind? I probably should have asked that first but I got caught up in the moment."

It took you a second to realize this was Rumi's version of respecting your boundaries. As if you wouldn't let her do whatever she wanted to you, let alone press against you for a selfie.

"N-no. Not at all."

"Okay, good!" Her smile returned. "Say cheese!"

She leaned back in, closer than before, if that was even possible. Her cheek pressed against yours again as she snapped the first photo. Then another right after. She tilted her head, changing the angle, her braid brushing against your shoulder.

"One more!"

This time, just as her thumb hovered over the shutter, she turned her head. Rumi's lips pressed lightly against your cheek, the shutter clicking before you had a chance to react. Rumi pulled back, studying the photos on the screen with a satisfied hum as if it had just been any other pose. She scrolled through them, her expression thoughtful, then glanced up at you, noting that you remained frozen, your cheeks and neck flushed a bright red.

"You really are adorable," Rumi said, smiling.

"I-I'm not trying, I swear."

Her hand reached up, fingers finding the collar of your shirt, smoothing it down with careful attention. It was a simple gesture, her hands resting at the back of your neck as she finished. Rumi's eyes dropped to your lips for just a second. Or maybe you had imagined it. Before you could even think to ask her about it, Rumi was leaning forward, her lips pressed firmly against yours.

You expected a bucket of water to splash on you, or your alarm to go off–anything to wake you up from what must be a dream. But neither came, only the soft, persistent press of Rumi's lips against yours. When she finally pulled back, it took her a moment before reality visibly crashed down on her. Rumi's eyes widened, her hand flying to her own mouth.

"Oh…Oh my god." She blinked, then laughed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a blush creeping across her features. "I just…that was really forward of me."

"It's okay!" you said. Your face still burned hot, but you managed to find your voice. "I didn't mind. At all, really."

Rumi stared at you, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and relief. "You…didn't? You're not just saying that, are you?"

"I'm not, I promise."

She blinked a few times, processing your honesty. Then, slowly, the uncertainty in her expression gave way to something you couldn't quite name. She moved closer again, her arm settling across the back of the couch behind your shoulders.

"So...Theoretically speaking...you wouldn't mind if it happened again?"

There was a hint of a grin on her features, but beneath that a shy eagerness in her question. It took you a moment to process what was being asked of you. Rumi, the Rumi, was asking you if it would be okay if she kissed you again? That had to be the equivalent of asking someone if they were okay with winning the lottery didn't it? And yet the fact that she was asking at all felt like proof of her being everything you thought she was.

"...I wouldn't mind at all."

You barely managed to get the approval off your tongue before Rumi's lips were on yours. This time it wasn't a simple chaste gesture; it was deeper, more confident. Her hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your face to meet hers as your mouth moved against yours. It was exhilarating, confusing, and arousing all at once. Her free hand found your shoulder, then drifted down to your chest, fingers splaying against the fabric of your shirt.

Rumi pulled back just enough to catch her breath, her eyes dark. They roamed over you for a moment, as if looking for any sign of regret before kissing you again. You weren't sure when your hands had moved to her waist–it wasn't a conscious decision but instinctive. Still, your touch was tentative, almost cautious as your hands hovered. Rumi broke the kiss and looked down at where your hands rested.

"It's okay," she murmured. Her fingers wrapped around your wrists, guiding your hands more firmly against her hips. "You can touch me."

Rumi moved from her position next to you, one knee sliding over your lap to straddle you properly. Her hands found your shoulders for balance, her braid falling forward over one shoulder as she leaned in. Your fingers flexed at her waist, feeling her curves give way beneath your palm and etching the sensation into your memory.

"Much better," Rumi said.

You weren't sure if she meant the position, your firmer touch, or both. There was no time to ask as her lips found yours again but either way, you agreed. In this position she could press flush against you, surging forward as she bit at your bottom lip, her hips grinding slowly in a rocking motion against your groin. One of her hands slid into your hair, nails grazing lightly against your scalp. When her fingers tugged lightly at your hair, you couldn't stop the quiet gasp that escaped.

Rumi smiled against your mouth. "I was almost worried you'd gone quiet on me."

"It's just my first time kissing an idol," you joked.

Rumi laughed as she leaned in again. "It better be."

Then Rumi was on you again. Her tongue swept across your lower lip in question. It took less than a second for your lips to part obediently, inviting her tongue in to dance against yours. The kiss turned messy and urgent, a rhythm building between you that felt almost too intimate for how quickly it had escalated. You couldn't help but etch her taste into your memory as you moaned into the kiss.

One of her hands stayed tangled in your hair while the other traced down your neck, your shoulder, settling at your chest. When she finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard. Her lips were flushed, slightly swollen, and her eyes had shifted to an aroused energy rather than the playful teasing she had spoken with earlier.

"Good boy."

Her thumb brushed along your jaw, and you felt your face burn with a mix of embarrassment and pride at being praised. It was new but not unwelcome. Words failed you for a moment, your mouth opening and closing a few times, but only managing to gasp at air. Rumi's smile widened, clearly pleased with your reaction. She reached down between you, fingers finding your phone where it had been forgotten on the couch. Rumi opened the camera app again before pressing it into your hand, mischief glinting in her gaze.

"Keep the camera on me."

"W-what for?"

"You'll see," Rumi paused, only for a second, as if the Bobby on her shoulder was giving her a reminder, "You did sign the NDA, right? Not that I don't trust you but…"

"I did! Uh, with Bobby earlier."

You hadn't thought that something like this would've been included but you weren't complaining.

"Okay, good. Mira and Zoey would kill me if this got out."

Rumi smiled as she leaned forward, catching your bottom lip between her teeth. The tug was light, teasing, before she pulled back. For a moment, she didn't seem like the star idol and perfect leader of HUNTRIX. She looked like someone who might eat you alive in the best way possible. It was a look that made your fingers dig into the arm of the couch.

Rumi slid from your lap, dropping between your spread thighs. Her hand moved from behind your neck, traced down over your chest, drifting lower. By the time her fingers found the buckle of your pants, your breathing had quickened to an unsteady anticipation.

"Is this a dream…?"

"Do you have dreams like this often?" Rumi teased.

Her hands moved to undo the belt buckle then tugged at the waistband. Your hips lifted without prompting to help you but as she had them halfway down, she paused, looking up at you.

"You're not recording," she noted with a smile.

"Huh…?"

You blinked, then looked at your hand. The phone sat forgotten, screen dark. You nearly dropped it as you scrambled to re-open the camera app, your fingers clumsy. Rumi's quiet laugh at the display didn't help matters. When you finally managed to get the app open, Rumi's image filled the screen. She was kneeling between your thighs, your pants tugged off and cock exposed to the air. The evidence of the effect the makeout session had on you was clear for anyone to see.

Briefly, you wondered when she had managed to free your cock from your boxers and realized it must have happened when you were fumbling around. More importantly, though, you realized that the when and the how were a lot less important than the now.

"I-it's recording now," you managed, holding your wrist to stop it from shaking.

"Good, I don't want you to miss this."

Rumi smiled in acknowledgement before tilting her head forward. A long trail of spit left her mouth, spreading over the mushroom head of your cock. You watched as Rumi wrapped her fingers around it, giving it a tentative squeeze and pump, smearing the fluid steadily along the shaft. The action earned a twitch of life and a moan from your lips in response.

"Fuck, Rumi…"

In no time, she had your cock at full mast, hips aching, and your hand trying desperately to keep the camera steady.

"Look how big you are," Rumi cooed.

Her hand tightened slightly at the base, drawing a low sound from your throat before you could stop it.

"So sensitive already. You really might be our biggest fan," Rumi teased, giving you one slow stroke as she looked up at the camera, laughing slightly. "Sorry, that was terrible. I couldn't help myself."

The laugh that left you at her terrible pun came out more strained than you had intended. It had started normally until she began to lower her mouth towards your cock. Her lips hovered just above your tip, her warm breath causing your hips to buck instinctively. Your gaze dropped down to her, watching as she moved while staring at you. The first lick was slow and deliberate, dragging her tongue from the thick, veiny underside up to the very tip.

On the second swipe of her tongue, Rumi didn't stop at the top; she let her mouth sink over your cock, swallowing it inch by inch, until her nose brushed your groin. She hummed around your cock, no sign of gagging despite the way her mouth stretched fully around your girth. You briefly wondered if this was the strength of a main vocalist.

After a few moments, Rumi pulled off with a wet slurp, her hand resuming a steady rhythm. "Too much?"

You shook your head immediately. "No. Hell no. That was…incredible…"

"You should see what I do with a sushi roll."

"Sushi roll…?"

You didn't have time to ask what that meant–you assumed it was a euphemism for something else but Rumi was already acting before you could ask for clarification. Her mouth was on your cock for a second time, and this time the slow, tasting movements were gone. She took your length deep, tongue flat against the underside before she began a steady rhythm.

"F-fuck…"

The curse left you as Rumi hummed around your cock. Your hand instinctively went to the back of her hair, fingers hesitating for a moment before they dug lightly into her purple hair. Rumi didn't reprimand you, if anything she bobbed her head faster. Her cheeks hollowed out, creating a wet vacuum as she came off the tip with an audible pop.

Rumi's tongue swirled around the swollen head, swiping at the leaking pre-cum before taking you whole again. The wet sound of your cock hitting the back of her throat over and over filled the dressing room. The hand that was holding the camera shook slightly as you let out a moan, head falling back.

"S-shit. Rumi…" Your hips twitched

Her response was her nails scraping against your scrotum. The sensation was unexpected bliss, as if she was trying to goad your seed out of its source while her mouth stayed on your cock. It was all too much for you who had thought you were going to come backstage and get a greeting and maybe an autograph.

"Rumi–I don't think–I'm gonna–!"

The words cut off in a moan. Rumi looked up at you, staring directly at the camera as your hips bucked off the couch and you exploded into her mouth. It was pure ecstasy as you came, cock throbbing against her tongue as she stayed in place. Rumi took it all, swallowing down your load with only a dribble of cum at the corner of her mouth. When it was finally over Rumi pulled off your cock with a slurp and a gasp, cleaning your shaft.

"Well, that was unexpected," Rumi grinned, wiping her bottom lip and leaning on your thigh, her head tilted slightly. "How do you feel?"

"Good. Great even…Outside of forgetting my own name…"

Rumi laughed, her eyes briefly drifting to the erection between your thighs. "Still hard too apparently."

You blinked, following her gaze down and nearly fell over. Sure enough your cock still stood at attention, covered in a sheen that glistened under the lights. Sheepishly, you scratched the side of your cheek, not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed.

"That's not…normal is it?"

Rumi smiled. "Normal is overrated, trust me."

She rose to her feet, her eyes flicked down to your cock and then back up to meet yours. There was a look in the leader's eyes that was far more reckless than her usual demeanor. A look that hadn't been there even when she settled between your thighs.

"You know…no one's come knocking for you yet" Rumi started, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her spandex shorts, "If you want–"

"Yes. Whatever it is, the answer is yes."

It came out before she could even finish the offer. Your voice cracked halfway through, but you didn't care enough to let it stop you. Rumi let out an amused sound. "Have I mentioned how cute you are?"

"Once or twice…" you replied sheepishly.

She peeled the shorts down in one slow motion. They clung to her thighs for a second, revealing a slick arousal between her thighs, before the fabric slid down over her toned legs and pooled at her feet. Rumi stepped out of them, naked now aside from the oversized encore tee, which hung loose over one shoulder, a hint of patterns trailing up her thighs.

"You know, Mira has a theory about our fans," Rumi began, noting the way you drank her in. She reached for your hand, pulling you to your feet as she continued. "She thinks you all have a secret perverted side. That you have all kinds of fantasies about us. I argued that our fans are angels!"

Rumi looked at you, smiling as she guided you towards the dresser, stopping to lean back against it. Her hand pressed against your chest, drawing light circles with her nails. The way her eyes darted over you was almost coquettish in the way it danced between innocence and invitation.

"So, maybe you can be the tie-breaker for us? Which one is it?"

"Well…it's hard to say…"

You said that as if you hadn't seen the piles of fan-art and thirst edits all over social media that were dedicated to the group. And the comment section was even worse, not that you were any better. You loved cheering them on and listening to their music, sure, but by the same token, the things you had imagined doing to each of the members was obscene to say the least. Before you might've felt guilty about it. After today though, you were more hopeful.

Rumi watched your hesitation, the playful grin on her features growing wider. "There's no need to be shy. Especially not after that. Unless I'm right and you guys really are innocent."

Her words struck a nerve, tapping into an illogical need to prove yourself. As a result, you blurted out a defense before you could think it over.

"That's not true!"

Rumi arched a manicured eyebrow. Her hands rested on the vanity while she leaned her weight back, light illuminating her as she looked at you. To say she looked utterly fuckable was an understatement. Rumi also looked like someone who had just figured out what button to push.

"I'll believe it when I see it. You guys are entirely too cute to be degenerates," she said.

With your pride as a degenerate fan on the line, you felt your restraint snap at her taunt. Though it likely had more to do with the fact that your cock was still archingly hard and Rumi's dripping pussy was bared to you. Whatever the case, you closed the distance between the two of you, your hands finding her hips and spinning her around.

Rumi let out a delighted laugh as she caught herself on the vanity. Your hands moved, immediately pushing up the t-shirt higher on her waist before moving to position your cock at her entrance. You hesitated only for a moment to relish in the reality of what was about to happen before a shake of her hips snapped you out of it. You thrust forward, stretching her walls around your cock as you buried your length inside of Rumi.

"I'm fucking Rumi…" you muttered.

"I noticed," Rumi moaned, her head falling forward as she adjusted to your length.

You looked at the mirror, taking in the image of her flushed cheeks, noting how beautiful she was like this. Then you remembered the taunt that had gotten you to this point. Your hips pressed forward until your cock was fully buried inside of her. Your hand left her waist, gripping her thick, purple braid and giving a gentle but firm tug to pull her head back. Rumi let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

"You wanted to find out your fans' fantasies, right?"

"Mhm. Show me," Rumi begged, biting her bottom lip.

Your hips snapped forward, her body jolting against the vanity. Rumi let out a delighted, breathless gasp as you found a rough rhythm. You tugged at her braid again, forcing Rumi to meet your gaze through the mirror. Her reflection held the same request and you responded by pulling out and thrusting forward again.

"This is exactly it. Fucking you like this while thousands of fans scream your name. Thinking you're some perfect angel," you growled, keeping your grip firm as the pace of your cock entering her again and again increased. "I want to completely ruin you for anyone else. I want to stretch you out so perfectly that you will feel it every single time you step on stage."

"Yes! Fuck, yes. Ruin me," Rumi moaned.

Her enthusiastic response felt like a glimpse into a side of the popstar that the public wasn't allowed to see. Rumi arched her back, pressing her ass back against you to take every inch of your cock. Her hips shaking just enough to draw out a moan from you.

Whatever restraint you had left was gone. You pounded into her pussy with reckless abandon, guided only by pleasure and the sound of her pleas for more. The thought of filling her up so deep that she'd be carrying your seed inside her long after the tour buses rolled out became intoxicating.

"I'm gonna breed you right here, Rumi. Gonna pump you so full that it leaks out of you during your next interview, just so you remember exactly who you belong to when the cameras are on."

The explicit fantasies tumbled out of your mouth as Rumi let out a high-pitched, fractured sound. Your head was spinning; hell, you weren't even sure you knew what you were saying anymore. Not when her inner walls were clamping down around your cock in a stuttering rhythm, trying to milk you and draw you in further.

"Do it. Fill me up and breed me!"

Rumi's head craned back into your touch with a breathy whine. The idol was gone, leaving only someone surrendering to the moment completely. And yet she was still undeniably Rumi. It was something of a surreal realization, lost in the haze of physical pleasure and delirious lust.

"Hhngh!"

Rumi's cry of pleasure broke through your thoughts as her body slumped forward, only held upright by your actions, her muscles visibly twitching as her thighs quaked.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Rumi."

Your praise caused another shudder to wreck her body, her pussy clenching around your cock. You moved your free hand, settling on the side of her neck as you pushed her towards the edge. Unknown to you, the unconditional praise was a switch for the popstar. Not just the blanket adoration, but the acknowledgement that even at her most exposed, she was still beautiful.

"You're close, aren't you? You're so pretty shaking like that. The leader of HUNTRIX is about to come on her fans' cock, isn't she?"

"Yes!" Rumi sobbed out, her head tossing as her eyes locked with yours in the mirror. "Yes, fuck, I'm coming for you!"

You watched the reflection of Rumi's flushed, desperate face in the mirror just as her climax hit her. Rumi let out a loud cry, her body arching back against yours as her pussy clamped down around your length in a series of milking spasms. The faint patterns that crept along her exposed shoulder and inner thigh seemed to reflect her unraveling. The sensation was enough to bring you right to the edge of joining her.

"FUCK! RUMI!"

You groaned, driving your hips forward one last time to bury yourself as deeply inside of her as physically possible. Your cock twitched, joining her in release as your balls emptied inside of her. For a moment, your vision went white, blinded by the lights on the vanity and only aware of her quivering body against yours.

You were faintly aware of your hips jerking erratically, slamming into her ass as you spilled every drop until finally your body sagged against hers, hand still absently on her braid. Rumi's own eyes had rolled back in pleasure, her breathing heavy as she came down from her release.

As the final waves of pleasure finally began to subside, you slowly released your grip on her braid. Without the anchor, Rumi immediately slumped forward against the vanity, her forehead coming to rest against the cool glass of the mirror. The dressing room fell entirely silent except for the shared sound of your heavy breathing.

"How...how did I do?" you asked, the nervous fan returning while still buried inside of Rumi.

She didn't answer at first, letting silence fill the air. Then Rumi let out a soft, shaky laugh, her eyes fluttering closed with a contented, dazed smile.

"You did amazing…Our fans…really are the best."

-x-X-x-

Fansign with Zoey

-x-X-x-

After that night at the concert, you had never rationally expected to meet Rumi again, let alone the other members.

Even if you desperately wished you could, given how things had turned out. Even if, despite telling yourself that Rumi was just being kind when she kissed your cheek and said 'Let's do this again', you desperately wanted to believe she had meant it. The logistics and odds were simply against you. Winning the lottery was a once-in-a-lifetime event. A lightning-striking-once sort of situation.

Or so you had thought.

As it turned out, apparently, lightning did strike twice.

The convention hall was sweltering, buzzing with the frantic, overlapping chatter of two hundred hyper-ventilating fans. Currently, you stood in line, album in hand, waiting for it to be signed. You could feel a strange sense of anxiety washing over you as you gripped your album tighter.

Despite the fact that you had fucked Rumi senseless just weeks ago. Despite the fact that you'd talked about breeding her right there on the vanity. Despite the fact that you still had the video on your phone of her looking up at you, eyes blown wide while she gave you a blowjob–though, when you laid it out like that, it started to sound entirely delusional. You couldn't help but wonder, like a lovestruck fool, if she would even remember you.

"Alright, everyone...Everyone...Hello...?"

Bobby's attempt at getting the crowd's attention went unnoticed as the hall continued to buzz in anticipation of HUNTR/X's arrival. He reached down to the signing table, eventually found a microphone, and tapped it a few times. The sharp thump-thump echoed over the PA system.

"EVERYONE!"

An immediate hush fell over the hall. Bobby straightened, preening slightly at his own authority.

"That's better. Ahem, thank you all for coming today!" A cheery, corporate tone returned to the manager's voice. "Let's all remember to keep things orderly! I know we're all very excited to see the girls and they can't wait to see you all."

You started to drown him out as Bobby went over the etiquette and rules, your mind drifting back to the girls. You idly wondered if Rumi had told the others about your rendezvous, and more importantly, how they might've reacted. Mira had been the one to theorize that their fans were depraved, harboring dark, explicit fantasies about them. Despite being the effortlessly cool member of the group, you could see her wanting to hear every detail to prove her hypothesis right.

Zoey, on the other hand, was the wildcard.

The adorable, chaotic maknae of the group. She struck you as the type of person who was knee-deep in the most depraved romantasy genre, hitting social media behind the scenes. Someone who would blush furiously at the word cock, yet be unable to stop themselves from scrolling. In fact, if Rumi had told her what happened, you could see Zoey legitimately drooling, desperate to hear more.

"Next!"

The shuffling of the line snapped you out of your daydream, or maybe it was a delusion. Though, given what you'd been through, was it really so far-fetched to dream of?

"NEXT--Oh, hey, it's you again. Wow, you really must be one lucky guy," Bobby said, recognition flashing across his features as he looked up from his clipboard.

"Ah...yeah, I guess so."

"Hey, at least you don't have to sign any NDA's this time, right?" Bobby joked.

"Ha, ha. Right..."

You laughed nervously with him, wondering just how much he knew. Bobby seemed blissfully ignorant and you prayed it was possible that he operated on a don't ask, don't tell basis with the girl's private lives. After giving him your name, Bobby slapped a sticky note on your album before wishing you luck and proceeding down the line toward the next fan.

You exhaled a shaky breath, stepping forward as a roaring cheer suddenly erupted from the front of the hall.

The line was a slow, relentless shuffle of feet until finally, the signing table came into full view. You could see the three members of the group seated at the table, with Rumi situated at the far end. Rumi, as always, was effortlessly beautiful; her purple hair pulled into a pristine dragon braid. She was currently leaning forward to listen to a crying fan, offering comforting nods and signing their album with practiced grace. As always, her smile was radiant and kind.

The contrast was impressive, genuinely. Rumi showed no signs of being the same flushed idol you had left full of your cum and ruined against a makeup vanity.

She hadn't noticed you yet, giving each fan her undivided attention, but you didn't mind. If anything, watching her give so much genuine attention to the weeping fan in front of her gave you an odd sense of pride. That unwavering dedication was exactly why you had become a fan in the first place. You allowed yourself a brief moment to simply appreciate her. It wasn't a matter of her faking one image or the other. This beautiful, polished version of Rumi was just as real as the one you had dominated in private.

"Hey, there!"

A cheerful, bright voice cut through your observation. You blinked as your attention returned to the present, realizing that the fan in front of you had shuffled over to greet Mira, leaving you standing in front of Zoey.

She was practically vibrating in her chair. Zoey leaned far over the table, her elbows resting beside a towering stack of sharpies, and beamed up at you with a smile that could have powered the entire hall.

"Oh, uh, hi."

The polite fan in you kicked into autopilot. Despite how you might've ruined Rumi, meeting the other members had you returning to your usual self.

"Hi! Ohmygosh, thank you so much for waiting so long to see us today!" Zoey chirped, her words tumbling out in a rapid, bubbly stream. "I love your shirt, by the way. Have you been waiting forever? You look a little nervous. Don't be nervous!"

As you slid your album across the table, she snatched it up, uncapping her silver marker with an eager pop. You felt a nervous sweat break out on the back of your neck.

"Thanks, I'm trying," you managed, laughing self-depricatingly. "And the wait wasn't too bad, don't worry."

"I'm so glad! We were actually supposed to get here earlier but then Rumi–" her explanation was cut off by a sharp elbow in her side from Mira, who managed to do so without breaking eye contact with the fan she was talking to. "Anyway! Is this your first time seeing us?"

"Not exactly. I actually saw you guys in concert."

"Oh really?! Where?"

You rubbed the back of your neck. "Uh, the stadium show. The one a few weeks ago."

"No way!" Zoey gasped, bouncing in her seat with genuine enthusiasm. "The Olympic Stadium?? That was one of my favorites! The crowd was so loud during the encore, I couldn't even hear my own earpiece."

"Yeah, it was incredible. Though..." You hesitated, the words catching on your tongue for a second before you decided to just put it out there. "I actually...I won the chance to go backstage after that one."

"Really?! We didn't meet already, have we?! I swear I'm usually better with faces."

"Not exactly…You were busy at the time."

Zoey opened her mouth to talk before she froze. Her expression shifted as a realization dawned across her features. Abruptly, she dramatically leaned across the table, closer than the idol was meant to be to a fan. Fortunately, Bobby was too busy wrangling a few fans in line who had gotten into a disagreement. When Zoey spoke, her voice was a conspiratorial whisper.

"Wait...Are you the one that fucked Rumi in the dressing room??"

"Well, I..."

"No way! You are!" Zoey leaned back, clasping her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. "Oh my god, I'm like your biggest fan! …No, wait, that's supposed to be your line."

Zoey looked confused for a moment, as if trying to reconcile the contradiction in her head, before returning her focus to you. The maknae leaned forward again, her eyes wide. The rambling, sunshine-maknae had vanished, leaving a girl desperate for gossip in her place.

"Is everything she said true?"

Your pulse began to race as you stared at Zoey. The noise of the convention hall became secondary to the sight of the beautiful pop star leaning over the table, eagerly waiting for your answer. And, perhaps more importantly, the implications of what might happen if you answered honestly.

You swallowed hard. "Every word."

Zoey's pupils dilated, hands clutched to her chest as she stared at you. You could almost swear you heard a choir of angels somewhere in the distance.

"Zoey…? Zoey? Earth to Zoey."

"Huh? Oh!"

The pop star snapped out of her daze. She grabbed her marker, scribbling something frantically on the inside cover of your album before shoving it back across the table into your chest. Then she stood abruptly, her expression nervous.

"I, um, need to use the bathroom! As soon as possible!"

Bobby, who had been going back to wrangling unruly fans, looked over at her, confused by the sudden urgency. He blinked, looking between her flushed face and clapping his clipboard to his side.

"Alright, alright. Go ahead, you are the star after all. We don't want you wetting yourself in front of the fans. Though some of them might be into that..." The last part was muttered under his breath before clasping his hands together and addressing the crowd with a well-practiced smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, Zoey will be right back!"

You could hear the collective groan of the fans in line, but you weren't paying attention any longer. You backed away from the table, cracking open the album cover. Tucked neatly next to her signature was a hastily scribbled room number and a crude drawing of a door. Staff Restroom - VIP!

For a moment, you hesitated, glancing down the line at Mira and then Rumi, both still engaged with their fans. You felt an inexplicable tug at your heartstrings before finally pulling yourself out of line.

After using a simple excuse of asking where the bathrooms were, it was alarmingly easy to get to your destination. Within two minutes, you had slipped past a distracted security guard and found the door at the end of a deserted VIP corridor. You barely had time to turn the knob before a hand shot out, grabbing your shirt collar and yanking you–with surprising strength–into the bathroom.

"You made it!" Zoey's voice greeted you. "Did anyone see you?"

"Uh, no. I don't think so."

"Good. Good."

Zoey was already moving, straightening your collar, hands running over your arms with clear sensory overload. Now that you were both standing, it struck you how petite Zoey truly was. How easy it would be to simply lift her up and–

"I can't believe it's actually you. I mean, Rumi told us the basics but Mira had to pry the details out of her, and honestly, I thought half of it was made up, but looking at you now..." she babbled, her words tumbling out rapid-fire as her fingers fumbled with your zipper. "I just had to see for myself. I hope you don't mind! I know it's crazy…"

You arched an eyebrow, curiously. "I don't mind. Exactly how much did Rumi tell you?"

"Oh! Uh, well. Just about how massive you were…" Zoey cleared her throat, as if suddenly aware of how degenerate her own ramblings were. "And how you felt in her mouth. And then she explained when you bent her over the vanity…"

Zoey trailed off, her gaze growing distant and dreamy for a moment, lost in her own recollection.

"Do you still have the video?"

You nodded. "I do."

Her eyes glistened for a moment before she tapped her cheek lightly. "No. Focus, Zoey."

You laughed lightly as she focused her attention back on your zipper. The pop star looked up at you, waiting for your nod before tugging your jeans open. Her hand moved past the waistband of your boxers freeing your aching length. You'd been half-hard since you walked up to the signing table, but the feeling of the idol's soft skin against yours brought your cock instantly to full arousal.

Zoey, who had been a babbling mess up until that point, went completely silent. Her pupils dilated, focusing on the sight of your hard cock hanging in the air in front of her. Her expression was nothing short of awe and worship. She laughed dumbly, her cheeks flushing red as she reached out, lightly touching the tip of your cock with her index finger.

"Hehe. Wow, you're, like, really big. I bet it'd have a hard time even fitting the whole thing inside of me."

It wasn't a complaint. In fact, the pop star seemed to be getting even more turned on by the idea.

The nervous fan who had stood in line at the fansign had disappeared once more, replaced by the confidence of a man who had already fucked one member of HUNTR/X and was currently eyeing another.

"Want to find out?"

Zoey looked up at you, biting her bottom lip as she nodded eagerly.

"Yes. Please. I mean, yes, please!"

You chuckled, grinning at her eagerness. It was incredibly endearing. But more than that, it made you want to take her apart. It made you want to pin her against this bathroom sink and utterly ruin every inch of her.

Your hands moved, gripping her waist and pulling her against you. "Good girl."

Zoey practically swooned at the praise, her eyelids fluttering as a breathy whine escaped her throat. She shook her head, trying to snap out of the haze of lust now clouding her thoughts.

"We should probably be quick," Zoey said, beginning to fall into familiar babble, "Bobby is gonna time me, and if I'm gone longer than ten minutes he's gonna send a PA to check on me, and I still have my mic pack on, though I turned it off–at least I think I turned it off–and if anyone…"

You cut off her rambling the only way you knew how. You tilted her chin up before crashing your lips against hers. It was impulsive and direct, but ultimately effective as you felt the tension leave Zoey's shoulders. When you pulled back, a dreamy smile formed on Zoey's lips.

"...Wow…"

"Ten minutes, right?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah. Give or take. I'm sure we could extend it a bit…If we had to…"

"Then we should probably remove these, right?"

You leaned closer, towering over her, your fingers tugging at the waistband of her pants. The flush on Zoey's cheeks darkened as she nodded frantically in agreement.

"G-good idea!"

Her hands quickly joined yours. With uncoordinated excitement, she shoved her pants and panties down her thighs in one quick motion, kicking them away when they pooled at her ankles. Between her thighs glistens, her arousal evident, her pussy slick and glistening. The reality that Zoey had gotten this turned on from the sight of your cock and her own wild imagination of what you would do to her was intoxicating.

You kissed Zoey roughly, easily picking her up and sitting her on the bathroom counter. She melted immediately, her legs moving to wrap around you. A soft moan left her throat as her legs instinctively wrapped around you, your cock pressing against her sex.

"Wait! Can you, um…" Zoey trailed off, biting her bottom lip.

For a second, you wondered if she was having second thoughts. "Should we slow down?"

"...Can you record? Like you did with Rumi? I mean, in case we ever wanted to watch it again. For research purposes! You know, to improve–"

You cut Zoey off with another kiss, this time more eager and insistent than before. Your tongue pushed into her mouth, tasting her as your tongue danced against hers. When you finally pulled back, you fished your phone from your pocket, opened the camera app and pressed it into her hand.

"Hold this."

Zoey nodded dumbly, her fingers curling around the phone. "You know I always wanted to be a director."

"Really?"

You took your cock in hand, guiding the tip to her dripping entrance.

"Yeah! I was supposed to direct a scene in our last music video. But then at the last minute, Bobby said he couldn't get it cleared with production. Which I totally get. I mean, I'm an amateur–ooOh sweet jesus!"

Zoey's words died into a visceral moan as you started to slip your cock past her folds. The way she looked at you adoringly, biting her bottom lip, was worth whatever risks might come with what you were doing right now. Your hands clamped on her hips as you began to push deeper into her cunt, feeling her tight walls squeezing around your cock. Zoey's head fell back against the mirror, her free hand gripping your bicep.

"You feel that?"

"O-oh yeah, I definitely–fuck–I definitely feel it. I can't believe you fit it all on the first try."

"Uh, Zoey? About that…"

The idol's eyes blinked open, staring at the camera screen she still managed to keep pointed down at where your cock was slipping into her. When she saw you were only half of the way inside, you could swear you saw a dark spark in her eyes, and a hint of drool on her bottom lip. Then a flip switched in her gaze. A wild grin spread across Zoey's features as her head jerked up to stare at you.

"Fuck me! I can take it!"

An amused chuckle left you. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely! If Rumi could handle it then so can I! Don't hold back!"

Honestly, her sudden enthusiasm and confidence were equal parts impressive and endearing. What really mattered though, was the green light she had just given you.

You began to push into Zoey worth more effort, forcing her slick pussy to stretch around your girth and take every inch of you. Even when it felt like she was too tight to continue, you pressed on just as Zoey wanted until finally you had bottomed out inside of her.

"F-fuh...So full..."

Zoey's eyes rolled back, unable to even swear properly as her eyelid twitched. You chuckled to yourself but said nothing. Instead, you gripped Zoey's hips, beginning to pull back before snapping your hips and entering her again. After all, she hadn't asked you just to stuff her full; Zoey had asked you to fuck her in the same way you had Rumi. The thought stripped away any last remnants of the shy fan who had shown up today. That shy fan was replaced with the man who had wrapped a hand around Rumi's dragon braid as he railed her against the vanity. The man who had told Rumi the filthiest things while promising to breed her. If this was who Zoey wanted, then you wouldn't disappoint.

You quickly set a rough rhythm, your hips slapping against hers, the sound echoing in the bathroom as Zoey's bubbly energy gave way to a series of high-pitched, needy whimpers.

"That's it. Look at you taking my whole cock like a good girl."

Zoey preened at the praise, her legs clenching tighter around your hips. "Y-yes! I'm so good!"

"Then show me you can take it just like Rumi did."

You punctuated your words, thrusting deep into her, your thighs hitting the edge of the sink. The camera shook in her hand as her petite body jolted each time you entered Zoey.

Despite your focus, you found yourself comparing her to Rumi. Not the two idols directly–they couldn't be more different to the point that comparing them was pointless. Not to mention anti-fan behavior. No, your reflection had been on yourself. In the past, Rumi needed to draw this side out of you. Taunting and teasing until you finally snapped just the way she hoped. This time, you had effortlessly slid into the role.

"F-fuck…right there, Daddy…!"

Zoey's cry broke you from your recollection. You didn't stop your movements–if anything, your cock swelled inside of her–but the way your gaze stared at you betrayed your surprise. Zoey realized it too. Her free hand clasped over her mouth, barely managing to suppress another moan.

"What was that?"

"I…I meant like not like–oh–not like my actual dad, that would be so gross! I just–I read this really intense web-novel last night where the Shadow King makes the heroine call him that and my brain just kind of short-circuited because you're fucking me so hard, and–"

You cut her off with a sharp thrust that had her words breaking into a moan.

"Say it again."

Zoey's eyes fluttered for a moment, dazed confusion flickering across her features. You gripped her hip tight, fingers digging into her skin as you gave her another deep thrust.

"Again."

"Daddy!"

Fuck. That shouldn't have been doing the things it was to you, but it absolutely was. Maybe you'd have to look at one of those books when all this was over. An endorsement from a member of HUNTR/X would instantly make it a best seller.

You picked up your efforts, your energy matching the moment. The rhythm you set earlier picked up as you pinned her atop the sink, perfectly filling her dripping cunt over and over again. The wet slap of your bodies meeting echoed off the bathroom tiles and earned you a series of incoherent moans. You reached up, guiding her shaking hand so the phone had a perfect view of the action.

"Look at how good you're taking me," you grunted.

Zoey's eyes went to the phone screen, fixating on the vulgar sight of you pounding into her.

"Sso good…ssso big, Daddy," Zoey slurred.

Her thighs were shaking around you, desperately trying to keep her focus. Her walls were clenching around your shaft with a greed that threatened to undo you completely. No, not yet. Not until her toes were curling and her body was convulsing on top of the sink. When that happened, then you'd let yourself go.

"You want to experience everything Rumi did, right Zoey?"

Zoey nodded rapidly, biting her bottom lip. You smiled wickedly as you buried yourself deep into her, leaning close so that your lips brushed against her earlobe. If Rumi had truly told her every filthy detail of your meeting together, then she definitely would have mentioned this as well.

"So you want to be bred by your fans, too?"

Zoey's pupils constricted then dilated, giving you the answer you had sought. She did know. The same hypothetical that Mira had debated with Rumi. Zoey was aware of it as well. Before you could taunt her any further, her walls began to squeeze around your cock in tight, rhythmic spasms. The phone slipped out of her grasp and clattered into the sink. Your own movements stilled for a moment, watching as the sudden orgasm tore through Zoey's body.

"...Holy shit…" you muttered.

For just a second, you were a fan again, simply staring in admiration at the beautiful sight that was unfolding. Had she really just come from a combination of your cock and your filthy promise? The thought made your length ache and swell inside her.

"T-that's never happened before. I–yes. M-more." Zoey moaned.

That needy plea snapped you out of it.

"Already cumming on my cock at the thought of being bred. You want my cum that badly?"

"Y-yes. Please, Daddy…"

You didn't know how much longer of the original ten minutes you had left but you knew you didn't care. You weren't leaving this bathroom until Zoey had cum again and you had emptied yourself inside of her.

Your pace quickened, pumping into her with enough force that Zoey was practically bouncing on your cock. Her back arched, her stiff nipples pressing against her shirt–the only part of her outfit that had remained intact. Over and over again, you slammed balls deep into the idol. For her part, Zoey was completely gone, lost to the depravity of the moment.

"O-oh jesus!"

Zoey clawed at you, already on the precipice of another release. Her nails dug half-moons into your skin as a violent shudder wracked her petite frame. Sensing she was close, you tightened your grip on her waist, punishing her with short, driving thrusts to push her over the edge.

"Cum for me, Zoey. Cum for Daddy."

"G-god! Yes! Just for you, Daddy. I'm cumming! I'm–"

Zoey's babbling cut off, the sound dying in her throat as her orgasm hit. For the second time you felt her walls begin to convulse around your length. The first one had been a surprise, but the second was a thing of beauty. And you were right there with her. How could you not be when her pussy felt like it was trying to milk you for all you had.

"F-fuck. Zoey!"

"Inside…please…I-inside!"

You held her hips, burying your cock to the hilt inside of her while she was still coming undone. A sound tore from your throat, though you were too far gone to recognize it clearly. Your head snapped back, vision turning white as your own release hit. It was like a tidal wave, flooding Zoey with your seed until both of you were boneless and slumped against the sink.

It took a few moments of heavy breathing and letting the world come back to you before you heard Zoey laughing.

"Hehe…" Zoey's arms looped lazily around your neck, a cock-drunk smile on her lips. "So everything Rumi said really was true…I can't wait to tell Mira."

You chuckled, unable to manage any deeper commentary. Somehow, maybe wishfully, you had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time you met the girls.

-x-X-x-

You receive a summons to HUNTR/X Tower

You stared at the display above the elevator doors, watching the floor number tick higher and higher. You'd be lying if you said there wasn't a bit of anxiety in your chest right now, despite everything that had happened so far with members of this group.

It probably had to do with the fact that for the first time, you felt truly out of your element. Or more specifically, that you didn't belong. You had felt it the moment you stepped into the building's lobby. The extravagance practically slapped you in the face. From the polished marble floors to the fact that the HUNTR/X logo was literally slapped on the side of the building's apex.

Despite the impossible situation you had found yourself in with Rumi and later Zoey, you had belonged at the start. You had merely been a fan enjoying a concert and attending a fansign. But this? Well, the side-eye from the man in the suit on the twenty-second floor said everything.

You pulled out your phone to glance down at the text you had received.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]: Penthouse suite. HUNTR/X Tower. 3 PM. Come alone.

"Maybe I should have vetted this better…" you mumbled under your breath.

Hindsight was, of course, twenty-twenty. At the time, your mind had instantly jumped to it being one of the members of HUNTR/X but now, you wondered if maybe you had simply wanted it to be one of them. What if this were some Seoul kingpin luring you into a high-end human trafficking scam as their latest victim?

Or worse, what if this was some sting set up by Bobby and the label's legal department? Could they have caught on to what–or who–you had been doing? Were they going to try and corner you into signing a stack of NDA's to keep you quiet? What about that document you signed back at the concert? Was that some kind of legal noose hanging around your neck?!

You glanced at the ascending numbers again with a renewed sense of trepidation.

"Okay. This is fine. Worst-case scenario, I say I got off at the wrong floor. No harm, no foul. It's not like they have any actual evidence."

Your mind instantly drifted back to the last conversation with Zoey as she waved goodbye, enthusiastically thanking you for sending her the video file of the two of you fucking in the bathroom.

"...I hope."

The elevator finally reached its destination with an audible ding. You held your breath, anticipating an army of corporate suits and lawyers the moment the doors slid open. Rather than a lawsuit being slapped in your face, what you saw was…nothing. Or rather, a small entrance way lined with platinum record frames but no lawyers and no Bobby. Just the faint sound of music playing from the area just beyond the entrance. You exhaled, confusion filling the void left by your anxiety.

"...Hello?" you called out.

You took a cautious step out of the lift, taking a moment to appreciate the records that lined the hallway. Platinum, Double Platinum, Diamond—all of the group's accomplishments over the years greeted you. You fought the fan-instinct to take out your phone and snap a picture. Now wasn't the time for that, especially when you still didn't know what this was.

You stepped further into the hallway, the living room coming into view, and your jaw dropped. Not metaphorically or as a euphemism, but literally. Your mouth was agape, your eyes widening as you stared out at space in front of you.

Towering floor to ceiling windows paneled the penthouse in a panoramic view that overlooked Seoul. The living room opened up into a completely open layout. The seating arrangement was a series of large, luxury sofas that made for an extravagant seating area that seemed like it could fit more than three people. In the corner by the windows, there was a grand piano, adding a classic feel to the modern luxury.

"About time. I thought you'd chicken out."

A voice to your left snapped you out of your awe. Standing there in the kitchen was none other than Mira, the only remaining HUNTR/X member that you had yet to meet. Well, not formally anyway. You'd seen her up close at the fansign but things had gotten…interrupted. And going back in line smelling like sex and post-coital bliss had seemed like a social faux pas.

Your heart raced at the implication of her words, but you tried not to get your hopes up.

"Oh! So…the message was from you…? This isn't like a sting operation or anything, right?"

"A sting operation?" Mira repeated dryly. "Like a drug bust?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous…"

"That's because it is."

Mira stepped out from behind the kitchen island, a bowl of potato chips resting casually in one hand. She was dressed down in oversized designer sweatpants and a tight, fitted crop-top. As casual as she was, the way she commanded the penthouse space with minimal effort was immediate. Mira paused as she walked past you, her lazy, almost disinterested gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. Despite her deadpan expression, however, you got the faint sense that she approved of you.

"So you're the one Zoey won't shut up about, huh?"

You felt an instant rush of color heating your cheeks at being called out so bluntly.

"She talks about me?" you asked.

It was only after the words left your mouth that you realized how pathetically love-struck and eager you sounded. You cleared your throat, desperately trying to salvage whatever cool you had left. Mira just smirked, highly amused by your transparent reaction. She popped a chip into her mouth and strode past you toward the extravagant sofas.

"It's less talking and more the unhinged ramblings of a crazy person," Mira explained. "Which she totally claims is fake, by the way."

You didn't know what to make of that, but the smile that spread across your features was undeniable. You were certain you looked a little goofy and obvious, but given that it didn't seem like you were going to be defending yourself in front of a courtroom, you figured Mira wouldn't mind you basking in the small ego-stroke.

Mira looked over her shoulder, where you were still standing in the entrance. "Sit. I don't bite. Usually."

You tried not to let the masochist shiver that ran through your body show. You moved around the sofa, taking a seat at a respectable distance as Mira's gaze watched you like a hawk. Or maybe a lioness. She popped another chip into her mouth, letting the crunch echo over the low music that was still playing from somewhere in the penthouse.

She was toying with you.

The realization was met with a mixture of indignation and curiosity.

Mira reclined, one arm resting on the back of the sofa as she allowed the silence to linger for a moment longer.

"You know I can't help but wonder how much of what she said is true and how much she was exaggerating. Zoey tends to get excited easily."

You let out a nervous chuckle. "I noticed."

Mira raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as she popped another chip into her mouth. The realization hit you a second too late. You'd completely given yourself away, confirming her suspicions without her even having to ask. She had laid a trap, and you casually stepped right into it.

There goes any legal defense.

"You know, Rumi had a similar encounter recently. Though I had to wrangle the details out of her. I can't help but wonder…"

"It was me. Both of them."

The honesty that was blurted out caught Mira off guard. At least, judging by the way the popstar blinked and her chips were entirely forgotten for a good five seconds. As she recovered, Mira let out a low chuckle, a grin spreading across her features.

"Well, shit. I guess that answers that."

You weren't entirely sure what had possessed you to blurt that out with such brazen honesty. Maybe it was impatience with her games, or maybe it was pure, latent pride refusing to let her doubt what you were capable of. You did, however, have a burning desire to see how Mira would react to the truth. Zoey had practically become your fan when you confirmed it, but Mira seemed far more composed than Zoey on her best day.

Mira leaned forward, setting the bowl of chips aside on the octagon coffee table in the center of the living room.

"If I'm being totally honest, I'm a little jealous," Mira admitted.

She leaned back against the cushions, her hand drifting up to trail idly down the column of her neck, her fingers resting on her collarbone.

"I told Rumi a long time ago about you guys. I knew that under all that polite, stuttering fanboy act, you all harbored absolutely filthy, depraved fantasies about us. I knew that deep down, you just wanted to get us behind closed doors, strip away the pristine idol image, and completely ruin us." Mira glanced at you, as if waiting to see whether you corrected her. "I just didn't expect someone to actually have the balls to prove me right. Twice."

"Really…?"

Despite everything you had experienced to this point, somehow hearing her confess to that out loud was still a bit jarring. There was also the fact that, before Rumi had spilled the beans, if you had to pick one member who had those kinds of fantasies, Mira would've come in last place. The fact that she was secretly at the top was attractive in ways that you couldn't describe. Though even without words, your cock twitched at the thought of just how wrong you might've been.

"Don't tell me you're surprised?" Mira scoffed. "Honestly, I thought about inviting fans up here before, but I knew Bobby would have an aneurysm if he found out."

The casualness of that statement gave you whiplash.

"I-I see. So…then why take the risk with me?"

Mira snorted, "Because you're practically part of the group at this point. He can't get mad at me without getting mad at all of us."

The fan in you wanted to have her repeat that statement into a recorder for safekeeping. Maybe store it next to your Golden and How It's Done single albums display. But outwardly, you maintained your cool. "I guess that makes sense."

"Of course it does." Mira leaned closer, her lithe body easily stretching across the sofa to close the distance that you had created. "Now, are you going to show me what the hype is about and fuck me or do you want me to do the pegging? I haven't been asked to take someone's asshole since that screaming fan in Busan."

Mira laughed, low and wicked as her hand reached for your cock, tracing the outline of your growing erection as she glanced down, then back up at you.

"Holy shit, you actually got turned on by that idea, huh? A true degenerate, just like I thought."

Mira began palming your length, rubbing it over the denim that was now far too constrictive. You felt your brain short-circuiting a bit when her lips pressed against your jaw in a lazy kiss. You had gone from fearing legal fees and non-disclosure agreements to having Mira command you around like she already owned you. And to add to the mix, you didn't hate it in the least.

"If that's the case, I've got plenty of toys we can use in my bedroom," Mira cooed. The way her voice remained neutral made you think she was completely serious.

"N-no. I mean, I've never…"

"Never been fucked by an idol?"

"Well, not in that specific combination."

Mira let out a throaty laugh against your jaw. "I like you already."

Her fingers moved to unzip your pants, expertly undoing the top button of your jeans. Your hips twitched, lifting off the sofa as her warm fingers cupped you through your boxers. Mira wasn't overeager like Zoey, and she wasn't as teaching or gentle like Rumi had been. Her touch was surefooted and confident. Like she was playing with her food.

"I bet you've been having fun, haven't you? Have you thought about having all three of us at once yet?" Mira's fingers curled around your hard length, stroking languidly. "Watching Rumi's mascara run down her cheeks while you fuck her throat like the filthy animal you are."

At this point, you weren't sure if Mira's dirty talk was more for you or for herself, but shit, it was working either way. You were hard and you could see her stiff nipples pressing against the fabric of her crop top.

With her free hand, Mira gripped your hair, pulling your head forward. "Well? Are you going to show me what all the hype is about?"

That challenge coursed through you like a wildfire. Logically, you had nothing to prove. You'd made both Rumi and Zoey turn into babbling messes. Yet Mira presenting herself as the mildly-interested final boss was a provocation you didn't realize you needed.

You broke free from Mira's touch, ignoring the whine that wanted to leave your lips at the last of contact on your cock. You pushed Mira back against the sofa before sinking to your knees between her thighs. Your fingers shamelessly dug into her waistband, tugging her pants off and revealing Mira's commando state. Her bare pussy was staring right back at you, already glistening with arousal.

"That's more like it," Mira grinned, her eyes half-lidded as she watched you.

You didn't offer her a witty remark in response. Your mind was too overcome with the task at hand. Instead, you leaned forward, mouth finding her clit first and earning a deep-throaty moan from Mira as a reward.

"Ohhhh fuck yes. There we go."

Mira tilted her head back, pink-red hair falling over her shoulders. But you weren't done with her yet. Your tongue licked a long, flat stripe across her swollen folds, tasting her arousal. Then you were pushing your tongue into her cunt, gripping her hips as she briefly arched her lithe body into your touch. Eventually, her fingers had tangled into your hair again, keeping you close.

It was an intoxicating feeling. Despite the way Mira was positioned in control, you could feel every flex of her stomach muscles when she shuddered or clenched.

"Is that all you've got?" Mira taunted.

You looked up at her from your position between her thighs, feeling a deep smugness run through you. It was a smugness that came with knowing what was going to happen next. You slid two fingers into her, stretching her inner walls just enough to make her breath hitch. Without missing a beat, your tongue returned to her clit, swirling and pressing hard while your fingers hooked deep inside her. When Mira gave another full-body shudder in response, you pulled back just enough to smirk at her.

"Is that better for you?"

"Fuck yes. I bet you're leaking on the floor down there, aren't you? Eating out your favorite idol's cunt. You know that's a thousand-dollar rug you're ruining."

"And how much did this sofa cost?"

Mira let out a low, throaty laugh. "Touche."

You couldn't help noticing she seemed to be getting off on the idea of you getting off to the act rather than the act itself. Or maybe it was some combination of the two. If that was the case, you'd just have to give her both to think about.

"You're right, though. I'm fucking aching down here thinking about what I want to do to you."

Mira's breath hitched, not just from the way your fingers curled inside her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking about exactly how I'm going to ruin you."

To prove your point, you dragged your tongue in a long, deliberate stroke up her slit, ending in trapping her sensitive bundle of nerves between your lips. Mira's jaw tightened, her hands gripping the couch cushions as you sucked firmly. You matched the claiming pull of your mouth with a decisive upward curl of your fingers inside her. You could feel the immediate, involuntary contraction of her walls around your digit. Mira was completely soaked, making it agonizingly easy to slide a third finger past her entrance, stretching her out even further.

"I'm guessing your pristine idol image doesn't cover you dripping all over the upholstery," you taunted, lifting your head just enough to catch her reaction.

"Shut up and use that mouth for what it's good for," Mira shot back.

The command was firm, though it lacked her usual dry bite. If anything, it sounded dangerously close to a breathless plea.

You gladly obliged, discarding the banter to focus entirely on the physical devotion. You fell into a relentless rhythm, your thumb taking over the heavy assault on her clit while your tongue lapped eagerly at her cunt. Every time you pushed your fingers deep, you felt her walls squeeze greedily around your knuckles. Unlike the chaotic, babbling mess Zoey had become under your touch, Mira was actively fighting the sensory overload. It was a fascinating power struggle. She stared down at you, her pink-red hair framing a flushed, desperately composed face, but the frantic pulse fluttering at the base of her throat gave her away.

You wanted to see how far you could push that composure.

Shifting your angle, you replaced your thumb with your mouth again, swirling your tongue rapidly over her swollen peak. At the exact same time, your fingers crooked inward in a 'come here' motion, dragging against that deep, aching spot with unrelenting pressure.

Mira let out a fractured gasp. Her hips snapped upward, grinding herself against your mouth as you held her firmly in place by her thighs. The effortless, impenetrable aura she always carried finally began to crack. Her stomach muscles pulled taut, trembling violently under the sheer weight of her arousal as you drove her closer to the absolute edge.

"Don't—" Mira hissed.

Her fingers abandoned the sofa to tangle fiercely in your hair. It wasn't a plea to stop; her nails were practically anchoring your face to her core. You doubled down, your tongue flat and unyielding as it focused entirely on the rapid, slick friction against her clit. You pushed your fingers in and out of her tight cunt in sync with your mouth, feeling her body reach its breaking point.

She didn't scream, nor did she melt into a puddle of loud praises or tears. Instead, Mira arched her lower back off the cushions with a sharp, hissing intake of breath. Her thighs clamped firmly around your head, and you felt the intense, rhythmic pulsing of her orgasm clamping down on your fingers, milking them with wave after wave of intense heat.

You stayed right where you were, capturing her heavy release with your mouth, swallowing her moans until the violent tremors finally began to subside and the vice-grip on your hair slackened.

Slowly, you pulled back, dragging your tongue over her folds one last time to clean her up before resting your chin near her inner thigh. You looked up. Mira was a vision—her chest heaving rapidly beneath her crop top, eyes half-lidded, a light sheen of sweat catching the natural light of the penthouse. For a moment, she looked entirely undone.

Then she took a slow, stabilizing breath. She blinked the haze from her eyes, and that signature, lazy smirk fought its way back onto her flushed face.

Mira met your gaze and let out a breathless, "Not bad."

"Somehow that sounds like an insult," you grinned.

You began to stand from your knees, aching hard and fully planning on turning that insult to explicit praise when Mira pressed a hand to your chest.

"Nu uh. Strip."

You arched an eyebrow, but Mira merely met your gaze with an expectant, wicked expression that left no room for argument. You stood straight, your cock awkwardly still exposed from her earlier teasing. You pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor before kicking off your shoes. All the while, Mira watched, her fingers tracing light circles against her still sensitive clit in provocation.

It was more agonizing than you would have expected. Being forced to strip when the thing you wanted to do right now was be inside her. What made it worse was that you were almost certain it had nothing to do with seeing your physique and everything to do with power.

"Much better. Now, sit," Mira gestured to the spot next to her on the sofa.

Your cock twitched with anticipation as you obeyed, the soft cushions tickling your bare thighs and balls. Mira moved with a speed that betrayed her casual, controlled words. She swung a leg over you, kneeling as she held your cock at attention, just a hair's breadth away from rubbing against her soaked slit.

"Let's see if I can find out why Zoey won't shut up about you."

Slowly, almost agonizingly so, Mira began to lower herself onto your cock. Your hips tried desperately to jerk upwards at first contact, only for Mira to maintain her control. The initial penetration as she sunk down had your head falling back against the sofa. You could feel the resistance and stretch as Mira took you deeper and deeper. It wasn't the hurried, time-gated fucking that it had been with the others. This was Mira taking her time and enjoying every expression you gave her.

"Mira…"

"Shit," Mira gasped. "Zoey definitely wasn't lying about your size."

"Worried you can't take it all?"

Mira smirked down at you, "Please. I've got dragon toys bigger than this."

Yet the way her breath hitched when she finally took your length to the hilt told the truth. Mira braced one hand against your shoulder, gripping tight as she began a slow, intentional rocking of her hips.

The sensation was maddening. Every upward lift felt like a deprivation, and every slow sink brought a delicious slide. You could feel every flex of her inner walls clenching around your cock, tight and warm. Your hands gripped the expensive upholstery of the sofa, knuckles turning white as you forced yourself not to grab her hips and just start blindly thrusting.

Mira tracked the strain on your face with a predatory satisfaction. She isolated her hips with a dancer's precision that only an idol could have. She rolled her pelvis forward to aggressively grind her clit against the base of your shaft. When your eyes rolled back at the action, Mira let out a low, wicked laugh, leaning down so her pink-red hair brushed your collarbone.

"What's wrong? Is the big, bad fanboy going to embarrass himself already? I haven't even started moving fast yet."

Mira was entirely too smug. It was intoxicating, but you'd had enough of her dictating the pace. If she was going to pin your hips down, you'd just have to use the rest of your arsenal.

"I'm doing just fine," you managed.

"You sure about th—"

You released your death-grip on the sofa. Your hands shot up, bypassing her hips entirely to grab the hem of her designer crop-top. With one swift, impatient tug, you pushed the fabric up, exposing her small breasts. Her peaks were already hard and begging for attention.

Before Mira could even process the act, you sat up slightly, closing the distance. You opened your mouth over her left breast, dragging your wet tongue flat across her nipple before sucking hard.

"Ah—fuck!"

Mira's deadpan taunting finally faltered. The hand bracing against your shoulder slipped, her fingers scrambling to tangle into your hair instead as you lightly scraped your teeth against the sensitive bud. Her intentional slow rhythm completely fell apart. The shock of pleasure traveling from her chest straight down to her clit caused her hips to stutter, and then Mira slammed her weight down on you.

"Oh, shit, " Mira gasped, her head falling back, exposing the long, delicate column of her neck. "Wait, don't stop doing that. Keep—ah! Fuck, just like that."

You weren't sure if her words were broken honesty or the last attempts at maintaining control but it didn't matter. You switched to her other breast, licking and biting with the same devotion you'd given her cunt earlier. Your hands finally gripped her bare hips, no longer just letting her ride, but actively pulling her down onto your upward thrusts. You met her frantic downward slams with equal force, burying yourself to the hilt over and over again.

The composed, mildly-interested idol was entirely gone. In her place was a flushed, panting mess who was rapidly losing her mind.

"Fuck, yes," Mira panted, "Fuck my cunt, just like that. Harder!"

Despite the command, Mira was a passenger in your rhythm now. Her fingers dug into your scalp as the other hand shot past you, bracing herself against the sofa.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it…! Fucking your favorite idol like a filthy animal…!"

You pulled back, lips swollen as your teeth grazed over her skin. "This is what you wanted. Being fucked like an animal by your dedicated fan."

You felt her walls flutter around your cock at that correction. Mira's head tossed back, a low, throaty moan leaving her.

"Yes! God, yes. And you're giving me exactly what I want. You're going to use that filthy cock to cum deep inside me, aren't you?"

You responded by thrusting upwards as you pulled her down. A ragged moan tore from Mira's lips. That was all the confirmation you needed. The total filth of her demands shattered whatever restraint you had left. You increased your pace to something frantic and punishing, your hips snapping up to meet her every time she came down.

"S-shit! I'm—" Mira's head threw back, her nails biting hard into your scalp. "Fuck, fill me up! Do it!"

Her inner walls suddenly clamped down around you like a vice. Mira cried out, a loud, unabashed scream of pure pleasure as her orgasm ripped through her, milking you with wave after wave of intense pleasure. That was enough for the dam to break. The reservoir that had been built up through her initial touch and through eating her out came flooding through.

With a groan, you drove your hips upward one last time, burying your cock as deep as you physically could as you unloaded inside of her. You could feel her pussy spasming greedily around your length, coaxing out every last drop as you painted her insides.

Your mind went blank, and for a moment, you were only aware of your thrumming pulse and the faint, lingering tremors of her walls around you.

Mira collapsed against your chest as if whatever strings had been keeping her upright had been cut. Her forehead rested against your shoulder, her breath coming in jagged, shallow gasps. You wrapped your arms around her waist on instinct, matching her breathing as the initial high of the climax began to subside into a lazy, post-coital haze.

For a handful of seconds, the only sounds in the penthouse were the two of you panting and the low sound of the music still playing from the speakers.

You had been ready to ask her if you had successfully fulfilled her fantasy when a sharp ding sounded in the penthouse. It was the lift! Mira lifted her head, but she didn't have the energy to lift herself off your cock, nor did you have the energy to push her off you. With your back facing the entrance, you could only hope that it wasn't the worst-case scenario you had dreaded when you first arrived.

"Shit—"

You glanced over your shoulder, just in time to see the two other members of HUNTR/X stepping into the penthouse, mid-conversation.

Rumi froze in her tracks, a shopping bag slipping from her grasp with a soft thud against the floor. Zoey walked directly into her back, letting out an annoyed noise before peering around the older idol to see what the hold up was.

An immediate silence fell over the penthouse as the girls took in the sight of you, shirtless, with Mira straddling your hips, tits bared, and her skin flushed with sweat.

"Uh…welcome home?" you croaked out.

Rumi blinked, then her eyes widened with both recognition and confusion. "You? What are you doing here?"

"What is who doing here—" Zoey cut herself off, her eyes practically melting into a starry-eyed gaze when she spotted you, "Daddy!"

"Daddy?!"

The echoed disbelief came from Rumi and Mira in unison as both looked between you and Zoey. If you could have, you might've melted into the sofa out of embarrassment. As it was, all you could do was look at Mira with a suddenly sheepish expression.

"...I can explain."

Well, this night just got a lot more interesting.