Chapter Text
Truthfully, it had all started after their fans decided to start shipping them all with each other.
Huntrix tried their best to ignore the comments, the fan art, the GIFs, and the shipping names that exploded across social media after they guest-starred with the Saja Boys on Let’s Play a Game.
Fans worldwide watched like hawks, and — weirdly enough — managed to find what they called signs that the girls were into the boys.
Then came the Pepero Game.
The idols had been forced into playing it, and… the fans went crazy.
The next thing they knew, Miromabby, Rujinu, and Zoeystery were trending all over goddamn Twitter.
Rumi still remembers the way both she and Jinu flushed and started bickering after their almost kiss — voices a little too loud, faces a little too red.
She remembers how Mira discreetly stepped on both Abby’s and Romance’s feet as they smirked at each other like they were in on some private joke.
Zoey nearly cried, while Mystery couldn’t meet anyone’s eye.
And Baby? Well, he just sat there on the immunity chair with a shit-eating grin like he’d won the lottery.
All in all, it was one of the worst days for the idols — and a day of pure victory for the fans.
Sales skyrocketed. Interviews were demanded. And as much as Bobby always stood by the girls, even he couldn’t deny how great that miserable game show had been for business.
This, of course, led to both Huntrix’s and the Saja Boys’ record label's calling a truce, partnering up the boys and girls whenever possible as a way to boost sales and fan morale.
And begrudgingly, it worked. It worked so damn well that Rumi now found herself in very close proximity to the one man she couldn’t stand — but couldn’t deny she was very, very attracted to.
“Oh God~” Rumi moaned as Jinu’s stupidly talented mouth sucked a hickey onto her inner thigh.
“It’s Jinu, not God, Rumi — remember that,” Jinu teased, his tongue tracing over the forming bruise.
“Do you have to be an ass right now?” Rumi huffed, threading manicured fingers through his hair and pulling him closer to her now very wet core.
“Ow— not so rough, babe. We’ve got at least twenty minutes before we’re on stage,” Jinu groaned, clearly enjoying the way she handled him whenever they hooked up.
“Don’t call me that. You and I both know we’re de-stressing~” Rumi bit out, shivering as his tongue licked over the damp fabric of her blue panties. Honestly, she was secretly glad she’d worn a skirt for today’s event.
“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Rumi,” Jinu smirked, rolling his eyes as he shrugged off his studded black jacket and let it fall to the floor. Gently, he urged her to lie back on the dressing room couch.
Rumi laughed softly as Jinu tugged off her panties, tossing them haphazardly beside his jacket.
“This still okay with you?” he asked, rubbing her knee. Even though he was hard, Rumi couldn’t help but be amazed at how considerate the Saja Boys’ lead singer always was. For all the ways he pissed her off, at least Jinu never pushed too far — and he always made an effort to check in before chasing his pleasure.
“Yes, Jin. I’m okay,” Rumi said, smiling shyly as she tugged up her skirt and spread her legs, giving him a view to die for.
“Shit, Mi…” Jinu groaned, dropping to his knees and pulling her closer.
“How much time do we have left?”
“Twelve.”
“Damn. Okay — let’s make this quick.”
Jinu didn’t waste another second. He hooked his arms under Rumi’s thighs and pulled her closer until she was practically on the edge of the couch. His breath was warm against her skin, and the way he stared — hungry, focused — made her thighs tremble.
Then his mouth was on her.
No kisses. They hadn’t done that. Not on the mouth. Not anywhere that felt too intimate, too much like crossing that invisible line. But his mouth on her? His mouth down there? That was fair game. And god, it made her lose her mind every time.
His tongue licked a slow, deliberate stripe up her folds before he sealed his lips around her clit, sucking gently, then harder.
Rumi gasped, head falling back, one hand flying to his hair, the other clutching the arm of the couch.
Above the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on her, she heard him groan — deep, needy — as his hand slipped under his waistband.
He was jerking himself off.
The thought sent heat pooling low in her belly, made her clench around nothing.
It had been like this for a month. Ever since that damn game show — ever since the fans started pairing them off, ever since the tension between them got too thick to ignore. They hadn’t kissed. They haven't had sex. They hadn’t even talked about what this was.
But here they were, again.
Touching. Licking. Getting each other off in secret corners. And pretending like nothing had changed.
“Fuck, Jin—” she whimpered, hips lifting into his mouth as he groaned against her, his hand working faster now.
“God, Rumi… you taste so good…” he mumbled, voice wrecked.
Her thighs trembled around his head, fingers tight in his hair. The coil inside her wound tighter with every flick of his tongue, every needy noise he made as he got himself off while he worked her over.
“How much time?” she gasped, barely able to think.
He pulled back just enough to pant, lips slick, eyes dark with want. “Seven minutes. Enough to make you come for me.”
Then his mouth was back on her, hungrier than ever. And Rumi could only hold on and pray they didn’t get caught.
Jinu didn’t give her a chance to think. His mouth sealed over her clit again, tongue working in tight circles that had her back arching off the couch.
Her fingers gripped his hair tightly, trying to stay quiet, but the soft gasps and broken whimpers slipped out anyway. The obscene sounds of him — licking, sucking, groaning as he jerked himself off — filled the room.
Rumi’s thighs quivered around his head, her body tightening, strung so high she felt like she’d snap.
“Shit, J-Jinu— I’m—”
She couldn’t finish. The coil inside her snapped, pleasure crashing over her in hot, shaking waves.
Jinu groaned like he could feel it, like her coming undone beneath his mouth did something to him he couldn’t even explain. He kept licking her through it, slower now, savoring it as her hips jerked, as she tried to ride out every last aftershock.
By the time he pulled back, his lips were slick, his eyes blown wide with lust, and his hand was still working himself under his pants, desperate, frantic.
“Rumi—” he gasped, so close, voice wrecked.
But she was already sitting up, cheeks flushed, legs still trembling as she grabbed his wrist to stop him.
“Don’t— we don’t have time,” she whispered, breathless, still trying to come down. “You’ll make a mess and we’ll get caught.”
Jinu groaned, dropping his head to her thigh for just a second, trying to catch his breath. His hand flexed at his side, like it physically hurt to stop.
“Fuck, Mi… one day you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, pulling his hand from his pants and adjusting himself, face tight with frustration.
Rumi smirked, still breathless, her legs trembling as she tried to pull herself together. “You’ll live. Now help me — we’ve got, what, five minutes?”
But as she straightened her skirt, reaching for her jacket, Jinu’s eyes flicked to the small, damp scrap of blue fabric on the floor — her panties.
Before she could react, he snatched them up and stuffed them into his jacket pocket.
“Jinu!” Rumi hissed, eyes wide. “Are you seriously stealing my panties right now?!”
He grinned, the kind of grin that made her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time — if kissing was something they did.
“You’ll get them back later,” he said, voice low, smug. “Fair’s fair. You got yours. You owe me one.”
Rumi opened her mouth to argue, but he was already pulling his jacket on, the panties tucked safely inside.
“Let’s go, princess. We’ve got a show to kill.”
And with that, they scrambled out the door — Rumi trying to act like she wasn’t turned on all over again, and Jinu savoring the victory in his pocket.