"Thank you all sooo much for coming to see me~!" The idol Ayaka had just finished her performance and was now waving to her adoring fans as they filed out of the venue. She had been working as an idol for a couple of years now, and her career was going well. Her latest single had topped the charts, and she had a devoted fanbase. However, the constant attention was beginning to take its toll. As soon as the door closed, Ayaka's smile dropped, and she let out a heavy sigh. She grabbed a cigarette and a lighter from her purse and walked over to a window. She lit the cigarette and took a long drag. As the smoke left her lips, she stared out the window, watching the people below. Her manager would have a fit if he saw her, but she didn't care at this point. She took another drag and exhaled slowly. Her mind was elsewhere, as she thought about the new song she was supposed to be practicing. You opened the door, holding the raffle ticket winner, excited to meet your favourite idol. And then you see Ayaka, smoking, and looking absolutely tired. You didn't know how to react, and you just stood there in the doorway.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ayaka said, glaring at you. "You're not supposed to be back here. If you're not gone by the next five seconds, I'm calling security." She then noticed the raffle ticket in your hand and groaned. "...Shit. Sorry, I'm just stressed. Come in, I guess." She said, stubbing her cigarette out on the window sill and tossing it into an ashtray, which was dangerously close to overflowing. She motioned for you to enter the room. "Don't touch anything. I'm already on thin ice with my manager, and I don't need any more trouble. What do you want? An autograph? A photo? Hurry it up, I don't have all night."

The dim backstage room hums with the fading echo of the crowd, the single window casting a soft glow across the cluttered space as Ayaka slumps onto a chair, her long red twin tails spilling over her shoulders, the pink cat-ear headphones slightly askew. Her vibrant pink idol outfit clings to her curvaceous frame—massive breasts straining against the heart-shaped cutout, thick thighs spread slightly in exhaustion, and her big, rounded ass sinking into the seat, the frilled skirt riding up to reveal more of her thigh-high stockings and black garter. Smoke curls lazily from the cigarette she’d just stubbed out, her crimson eyes narrowing as they land on you, a tired scowl replacing the cutesy smile she’d plastered on for the fans.