girl I’m anonymous so you don’t come harassing me again lmaooooo… you could have just been nice. you could have been polite about it but you resorted to insults, you’re the one carrying it on. stop acting 12.
also, the fact u don’t know why I think is gross is telling because it’s obvious as fuck
im carrying it on yet youre in MY inbox five minutes after you already blocked me ???? LIKE WHAT this is so embarrassing
“im anonymously harassing you so you cant harass me”
Do you hear yourself rn LMFAO and im not going to be nice to someone who was purposefully spreading hate 😭 you don’t have to like polytrix i couldnt care any less abt that but dont share hateful opinions IN OUR spaces, we dont want to see that any less than you want to see polytrix anyway
idc what you think is gross, we were arguing under your post and now you jumped to my profile 😭😭 GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE THIS IS EMBARRASSING
doing the exact same shit like how are you going to block me then be in my inbox anonymously ur a pussy and a pathetic loser girl get over it, it happened 5 minutes ago
LMFAO now theyre in my inbox being even more of an idiot 😭😭😭😭😭 youre calling a ship gross for litch no reason you can handle me saying ur opinion is dumb
summary. rumi knew accepting her demon side meant accepting the features that came with being a half demon. the sharp fangs, sharp, pointy nails that could cut the thickest of fabrics. rumi was okay with that, she was becoming okay with that. what she wasn't okay with though, was this new found libido. but luckily, her gfs have her back.
warnings. zorumi content. polyamory. zoemi. established poly couple. only zoemi have sex here, miras being a boss lady. g!p rumi. top!rumi. rabid!rumi. needy!rumi. bottom!zoey... for now. demon rumi. dubcon. blood kink. rumi bites zoey and drinks her blood like a depraved weirdo. zoey is okay with that. marking kink. a/b/o without the weird hierarchy.
ao3. pt.2
₊ ˚ • . ♡ rumi knew the lesson she was learning was to embrace every flaw and all, to never change the way she was to fit another’s view because the people who truly loved her would stick around no matter who she was.
she'd spent years hiding, dulling herself down and smoothing over the jagged edges so she wouldn’t be too much, too loud, too demonic. So she wouldn’t scare the people she loved.
but that wasn’t love—not really.
love didn’t come with conditions.
and once she accepted that—once she accepted herself—things started to change.
the demon side of her, the part that had been coiled up and silenced for years, finally started pushing through.
a little more every day.
the fangs came first—sharp, dainty, easy enough to hide until they weren’t.
then the nails—long and knife-like, perfect for climbing, for clinging, for tearing. She learned to retract them, but sometimes they came out on their own when she got overwhelmed.
and accidental teleportation while sneezing? yeah, that one was harder to explain.
either way, It all made sense.
she accepted herself—marks, instints, chaos and all—and her body responded.
she was showing herself freely, finally.
she could go to the bathhouse with zoey and mira without flinching at her reflection. she could wear crop tops and short shorts without caring who saw the way her marks curved and shimmered across her skin. she could breathe.
and when the Huntrix girls finally sealed the Honmoon, and the patterns on her skin shifted into that smooth, glimmering tone—like they’d always belonged there, like her body had been waiting to recognize itself—
that should've been the end of it.
It wasn't, of course.
now all of a sudden, there was this… hunger.
a constant, gnawing need that started in the pit of her stomach and radiated outwards like fire. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t soft.
It was primal, ancient.
she thought it would pass, it was a phase. a burst of hormones from her body regulating two different species, or just a side effect of the stress they'd been under.
but it didn't fade, it got worse.
rumi had trained her whole life to be a hunter—agile, lethal, sharp in every sense of the word. her body was built for survival, speed and power, honed from years of movement, discipline, and control.
add that with her training of being a kpop idol—choreo drills that lasted for hours, vocals, performance, cameras—her body was running in overdrive constantly.
she was an athlete through and through, and because of the rigorous use of her body, she needed more maintenance, more food, more energy, more sex.
It made sense. It was natural.
but this wasn’t.
this wasn’t just a strong libido. this was instinct clawing under her skin. this was her demon blood catching up with the years she spent ignoring it, suppressing it.
and now that it had permission to come out?
It was ravenous.
then dating two insanely attractive women only made it worse.
after everything happened, the fear of losing eachother only brought them closer, confessing their feelings for eachother.
she thought that was the reason.
that was why couldn’t stop looking at them, they were together. it made sense to always want your partner.
always.
zoey with her wide, innocent eyes, soft curves and thick thighs, ass like a fever dream. Always smiling, always gentle, always brushing her hand against rumi's arm like it meant nothing.
and mira—oh mira. tall, sculpted, sharp around the edges with abs like carved stone and arms that could throw rumi across a room if she let her.
just being around them—smelling them, hearing their voices, watching them stretch after rehearsals—made her ache.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t had sex before. she had. before she was with the girls, it wasn't often, maybe a desperate fan who had Zoey's pretty eyes, or Mira's sharp features, it didn't matter—she’d scratched the itch, satisfied the need when she had to.
but this?
this was new.
this was old magic in her bones screaming to be fed.
this was her demon side trying to make up for all the years it had been caged.
and now it was breathing down her neck every second of every day.
° ｡ㅤ→ ༄ ‧ ₊ ˚
rumi's hands curled tighter around zoey's waist, her fingers digging into the soft dip just above her hips like she was anchoring herself there. her breath hitched as she buried her face into the curve of zoey's neck, lips parting against warm skin.
“ah!” zoey giggled, tipping her head without thinking, exposing more of her throat. “rumi, that tickles—quit it!”
rumi didn’t quit.
she only hummed low in her throat, lips brushing over Zoey’s pulse as her nose nuzzled into the dip beneath her jaw. she inhaled deep—like she was breathing her in, tasting her through scent alone.
zoey squirmed in her grip, hands coming up to weakly push at her arms around her. “seriously, I wanna make our ramyeon,” she pouted, voice breathy and already half-lost in a laugh.
rumi's arms tightened just a little, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep her there. Her body was warm against zoey's back—feverish, solid, insistent.
“but you smell better than dinner,” rumi murmured, mouth curved into a grin against zoey's neck. her voice was low, teasing—almost a purr. “sweeter, too.”
a soft gasp escaped her lips, her thighs pressing together as her stomach flipped traitorously. “you're being weird again,” she mumbled, squirming. “you've been sus all week.”
rumi chuckled, the sound sending vibrations down zoey spine. she kissed her again, slow this time, lips plush against the delicate line of her throat, tongue flicking out for just a second—barely there, enough to make zoey twitch.
“have I?” rumi whispered, voice warm and thick with restraint, her hands sliding up zoey's waist to grip her soft breasts, pinching her nipple between her thumb and forefinger.
“mhm.” zoey made a small, embarrassed sound, glancing down at rumi's hands before tilting her chin to glare halfheartedly over her shoulder. “you're being unfair,” she huffed, cheeks pink and glowing.
rumi's smirk deepened, her thumbs hooked into the waistband of zoey's shorts—soft cotton and just a bit too loose—and she began to ease them down inch by inch, her knuckles dragging warm along zoey's skin.
“rumi,” she warned, voice soft and cracking at the edges, but she didn’t step away. she didn’t stop her. her hands hovered, unsure whether to push or pull.
a low growl rumbled in rumi's chest as she stepped forward, pressing Zoey back against the cool counter. Zoey was caged now, delightfully trapped. "god, I can smell how wet you are," rumi murmured, more a raw confession to herself than a statement to zoey.
a wave of heat bloomed deep within zoey's core, radiating outwards as her hands instinctively found purchase on the counter's surface, gripping tight.
the words stirred something molten deep inside zoey, warmth pooling and blooming like fire in her core. her fingers dug into the counter, grounding herself against the overwhelming heat of the moment.
rumi's own shorts joined zoey's on the floor, revealing the thick, slick head of her cock, already weeping with desire.
with a swift, fluid motion, rumi spun zoey around, pressing her lower back against the cool edge of the counter. One strong hand found zoey's thigh, lifting her leg to hook it over rumi's hip.
zoey let out a soft whine, her hands coming up to rumi's chest, a weak protest forming on her lips. "at least let me turn the stove—" a sharp gasp tore from zoey's throat, cutting off her words as rumi's thick, unyielding cock pressed into her, stretching her walls beyond belief.
the sudden invasion was overwhelming, a rush of fullness that stole her breath and any coherent thought. her fingers curled into rumi's shirt, pulling her closer, even as her body screamed at the exquisite pressure.
rumi didn't give her a chance to adjust, she couldn't, the feeling of zoey's warmth wrapped so tightly around her, scratching that aching itch was too much to give up.
she pressed in deeper, then pulled back just an inch before she plunged forward again.
zoey's eyes rolled closed, a strangled moan escaping as her body began to instinctively match rumi's rhythm. the friction was immediate, scorching, a burning heat building rapidly inside her. She could feel every inch of rumi, every rigid vein, every slick glide.
"that's my sweet girl," rumi rasped against her ear, her breath hot, laced with her own burgeoning need. Her hand moved from zoey's thigh, sliding around to cup the soft mound between zoey's legs, thumb brushing over her swollen clit.
a delicious jolt, like liquid lightning, arced through zoey, stealing her breath and weakening her legs. a soft whimper escaped as she clung to rumi, her head falling forward to bury itself against rumi's shoulder, utterly consumed by the rising tide of sensation.
rumi's thrusts deepened, each powerful stroke driving zoey back against the counter, the hard edge digging insistently into her spine, but rumi didn't heasitiate.
she swept zoey into her arms, cock still buried inside of her girlfriend whose legs instinctively wrapped around her waist as she was carried to the nearby couch and gently lowered.
the way rumi had picked her up with ease, laid her down so gently, the way her marks pulsed like a heart beat, her teary expressions. rumi looked so fucking good right now and it made zoey's cunt pulse around rumi's cock, a responsive, hungry clenching that elicited a low, guttural groan from rumi.
rumi moved between zoey's spread legs, her mouth finding zoey's neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her sensitive skin.
with a sharp pull of her hips, rumi slammed deep inside zoey once more, eliciting a ragged gasp that was half pleasure, half shock.
zoey's back arched into the thrust, her fingers digging into rumi's shoulders, nails biting gently into taut muscle while rumi buried herself in zoey neck.
the rhythm was primal, demanding, and each withdrawal was a fleeting agony, each re-entry a profound, mind-numbing bliss.
bite.bite her.mark her.make her yours.
the instinct hit rumi like a wave—hot, ancient, and deep in her bones. It wasn’t just thought anymore. It was need. It was law.
zoey. hers.
mira. hers.
their bond sealed with the Honmoon was glowing again, alive and humming beneath her skin, demanding to be felt.
rumi's hands trembled against zoey's waist, her body pressing flush to hers as her cock slammed into her cunt with damning pace.
her pupils blew wide, golden eye glowing brighter than ever, and then—
a low growl slipped from her throat, unrestrained this time. not just hunger. possession. her lips parted, and her fangs—longer now, wicked and sharp—descended from her gums with a wet click.
“r-rumi…!” zoey gasped, the sound caught between panic and something else. something breathless, heady.
god. that sound. that look.
rumi’s breath fanned hot across her throat. her nose brushed Zoey’s pulse point—and it was pounding, wild and sweet. her tongue flicked out, tasting sweat and skin and the faintest hint of desire that clung to Zoey like perfume.
and then she bit.
instantly, rumi's mind blanked.
her fangs pierced skin in one clean, precise motion, sinking into the delicate flesh of zoey's neck. hot, stinging pain bloomed immediately—sharp, burning like a brand—and Zoey screamed.
the sound tore through rumi, sent shockwaves down her spine. Zoey's body arched into rumi, hands grabbing at her stomach, nails dragging lines down her skin—but she didn’t push her away.
she took it.
rumi moaned low in her throat, the sound guttural, broken.
the taste—fuck. It was better than anything she’d ever known. It burned across her tongue like fire and honey, thick and heady, setting every nerve alight. her hips moved without thought, fucking into Zoey’s trembling pussy as she drank.
she could feel her. every twitch, every gasp, every pulse of heat in her core. It pushed her over the edge, and zoey too.
She felt the way zoey tightened around her, cumming around her cock.
zoey was reacting to it. the pain. the bond. the rush.
something deep inside her unfurled, ancient and primal. a tether stitching itself between their bodies, pulling tight, pulling home.
her hand slid to zoey's stomach, holding her there, grounding her. she could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the subtle tremble in her legs, the flutter of her pussy.
she wasn’t hurting her.
she was claiming her.
her mate.
the thought hit rumi like lightning—and for the first time since the hunger started, she felt relief.
zoey was still shaking. But she hadn’t told her to stop.
and Rumi would stop if she did.
but until then—
she drank—deep, greedy pulls that echoed inside her chest like a second heartbeat. She could hear it too, the obscene wet sound of blood sliding down her throat. could feel it flooding into her, setting her veins on fire, lighting up every buried nerve.
her hands trembled on zoey's waist. not from guilt—but from the unbearable, intimate rightness of it all.
zoey gasped again, her breath stuttering into a whimper, body jerking with another sharp pulse of heat. Her legs fell from around rumi's thighs. her back lowering back into the couch as if she was about to pass out.
and rumi knew.
she had to stop.
right now.
Or she wouldn’t.
with a choked groan, rumi ripped herself away—fangs sliding free with a soft pop, blood smeared across her lips and chin. her breathing came ragged. Shallow.
zoey slumped against the couch, dizzy, flushed, glowing. Her pulse raced beneath rumi's fingertips like a hummingbird’s wings.
“bed,” rumi rasped, not even meaning to say it. Her voice didn’t sound like hers—it was lower, frayed. possessive.
zoey didn’t speak. didn't protest.
she just nodded.
the bedroom door clicked shut.
the night blurred into hot skin and tangled sheets—rushed kisses and desperate sounds swallowed into pillows.
hands roamed. teeth grazed.
her mate, her girl, under her—wrapped around her.
everything Rumi had denied herself.
everything her demon had waited for.
♡ ° ｡ㅤ→ ༄ ‧ ₊ ˚
later—much later—zoey lay curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket she barely remembered pulling over herself. her buns were long gone, just hair now cascading down her back--mussed, cheeks flushed, and her throat still tingled where rumi had bitten her—two small red puncture marks blooming against the delicate skin of her neck.
her eyes were glassy, dazed, half-lidded with the weight of being thoroughly turned out, she could still her cunt occasionally flutter, squeeze around absolutely nothing.
the apartment door opened.
mira stepped in, shoulders tight from rehearsal, working with choreographers for their new single, sweat still cooling on her skin as she pulled her hoodie off. she tossed it toward the hook without looking.
“mi-mi? zo?” she called out, freezing mid-step when she caught sight of her.
zoey blinked up from the couch like a doll coming to life, lips parted and face glowing. “oh, mira!” she breathed, trying to sit up—but her legs gave out halfway and she collapsed back into the cushions with a soft oof.
mira's brow furrowed. her boots were off in seconds as she crossed the room quickly, kneeling beside the couch.
“jesus, are you okay?” she asked, hands already reaching to steady Zoey. "you look like you got tossed around."
zoey grabbed her arms with shaky fingers—mira's toned biceps flexing slightly under the sudden grip. her palms were warm. desperate.
“you have to leave,” zoey hissed, eyes wide and frantic. “something—rumi—she’s possessed!”
mira's gaze dropped instinctively to zoey's neck.
she went still.
the bite was unmistakable.
fresh. red. raw.
her breath caught. “zo… what the hell happened?”
zoey just shook her head, hair falling in front of her face as she whispered:
“she bit me. and not like a sexy nibble like you do—I mean bit, mira. fangs. growling. her eyes were glowing.”
she leaned closer, whispering hoarsely like rumi might still be listening.
“I think I saw stars. I couldn’t think. I was so dazed and she just picked me up and moved me. put me in position and fucked the absolute life out of me! It was like something was pulling me out of my body. please,” she begged, voice trembling. “just go. just go before she sees you.”
before Mira could respond, the air shifted.
she knew rumi had been acting off lately and now she was about to find out why.
heavy. electric.
and then—footsteps.
slow, quiet ones padding in from the hallway like a cat stalking prey.
rumi rounded the corner.
she wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.
her skin was glowing faintly, golden warmth pulsing beneath those shimmering patterns that spread across her collarbone. her tank top was twisted slightly, darkened with sweat, one side of her braid undone and clinging to her cheek.
her eyes—one bright amber, the other glazed and dark—locked immediately onto Mira.
rumi blinked once. tilted her head. said nothing.
but mira felt it.
that look.that heat.
that hunger.
she could see it radiating off her—like it was no longer just Rumi standing there, but something older. something deeper. something that knew what it wanted.
mira straightened instinctively, every nerve on edge. her body screamed fight, screamed move—but all she could do was stare.
because it was over.
and they both knew it.
rumi's lips curled just slightly at the edges. “mira.”
and mira realized, with a sudden, burning flush down her spine—
summary. rumi swears she isn't a pervert. but night after night, the same dream drags her under. mira's wicked smile, zoey's cruel giggle, their hands and mouths everywhere, pushing her past the edge until she breaks and everytime she wakes, sweating, shaking, messy.. she wants it all over again
warnings.. polytrix not established yet. post movie though. rumi's a nasty PERVERT! smut. g!p rumi. service top!rumi. dom!mira. top!zoey. evil Zoey. evil Mira. rumi's having nasty dreams about them. bullying. degradation. verbal humiliation. dubcon. face sitting. riding. vaginal penetration. semi-public sexx(?). this is allll a dreammm. no plot just porn.
a/n. bro I'm sorry everytime I rewatch this scene it turns me on everytime without fail like shes so confused and they're just smiling while tossing her every which way but loose.
ao3.
it always started the same:
right back to the night zoey and mira finally found out what rumi was truly hiding.
rumi on stage, hitting the high note from golden. her voice soaring, flawless. the crowd screaming. the honmoon flickering golden.
then the lights go out, the arena is plunged into darkness and silence dropped like a stone, and the pit of her stomach twisted.
mira and zoey were supposed to be waiting in the wings, but this wasn’t the cue.
was that takedown playing?
why is takedown playing?
did they put this back in without telling her?
confusion, panic and her heartbeat too loud in her ears.
then before she could move—lights back on.
formation.
“it’s a takedown.” their voices hit the mic, distorted and vicious, the kind of harmony that felt like it could slice her open.
“so sweet, so easy on the eyes—,” mira sang, and rumi felt a pang strike her chest like an arrow, reminding her all over again why she hated this song, “—hideous on the inside,” zoey added, cruel, honey-laced venom dripping from every syllable.
her body moved on instinct, muscle memory catching her before she could fall behind. the three of them hit the stomp together, hair whipping with the beat, and rumi’s chest clenched.
she couldn’t help but glance back, desperate to see if they were trying not to giggle, if this was some kind of prank. but neither mira nor zoey looked at her.
their gazes were locked on the crowd—predatory, hungry.
dhe extended her arms, and their fingers dragged down.
the touch was hot, too hot, and rumi’s skin lit up like fire.
the lights flashed red, pulsing. mira’s smirk widened as she purred her next line, and rumi’s pulse kicked hard.
she wanted to glare, to mouth 'what the fuck?', but hadn’t realized how close zoey was until she felt breath ghost over her neck, whispering the lyric right into her ear: “whole life, spreading lies but you can’t hide—”
rumi’s heart lurched. she shouldn’t have felt it in her stomach. but she did. worse—she felt herself twitch.
rumi took a deep breath, it was her part, they had to land this performance, she could be pissed later.
lock in, rumi. stay sharp.
“i’m ‘bout to switch up these—”
shove.
her chest jolted, almost knocking her mic.
“zoey?” she gasped out. zoey gave her such a disgusting look of faux pity, and her entire body got hot with pleasure.
“i finally open—”
another shove.
mira this time, hand pressed flat to her shoulder and shoved her back, forcing them to hold eye contact. her face was sharp, merciless—not mira’s usual softness.
“mira?”
the crowd roared, eating it up as though this humiliation was scripted.
but zoey was already shoving herself into rumi’s face, mic lifted, spitting venom: “it’s time to kick you straight back into the night!”
rumi’s stomach dropped.
they weren’t singing to the crowd. they were singing at her. about her. their words, their movements, tearing her apart in front of thousands—exposing her.
“cause i see your real face and it’s ugly as sin.” advanced, forcing rumi to backpedal—only to bump into mira’s chest. mira leaned down, voice dripping like poison.
“time to put you in your place cause you’re rotten within.” mira sang as she stalked closer, zoey shadowing her steps.
they were circling her now, rounding her as she looked between them in confusion.
were they angry at her?
is it the line distribution stuff they've been seeing all over tiktok?
what is happening?
did they know?
fuck.
“stop,” rumi stammered,
when your patterns start to show…
her jacket tugged—zoey’s fingers curling into her sleeve, missing once before pushing her toward mira.
it makes the hatred wanna grow—
mira didn’t bother with subtlety. she yanked hard, the fabric scraping across rumi’s skin, leaving behind a stinging scratch down her shoulder.
“please—stop!” rumi cried, voice cracking.
mira shoved her, hard. the crowd roared louder. they stared her down like predators eyeing the softest part of their meal.
and god help her—rumi’s thighs pressed together, trying to ease the ache.
she covered herself, terrified of the world finally seeing her for who she is.
the chorus slammed. “outta my veins!”
rumi’s eyes widen as they take a running approach at her.
“i don’t think you’re ready for the takedown!”
they tore her jacket clean off, shredding it in front of everyone. the marks on her skin glowed beneath the blinding lights and yet they still didn't stop. they walked forward, approaching her with such an evil glint in their eyes, it made her stomach swirl.
“a demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live, it’s so obvious.” their voices cut into her like blades, circling closer, boxing her in. rumi’s chest heaved, her cock straining against her shorts, achingly obvious beneath the blinding lights. shame burned her cheeks, just as hot as the tears threatening to spill.
her eyes darted back and forth between them—zoey’s sharp smirk, mira’s cruel calm—searching for a break, a mercy. nothing.
why are they doing this?
rumi gasped as mira suddenly pressed in from behind, her body flush against rumi’s back, the weight of her breasts crushing her closer. her voice was a low, merciless purr at her ear: “we see what you are.”
zoey in front, smile twisted into something devilish. “you’re a demon.”
“no.” her voice broke.
“a mistake.” zoey spat the word in her face, hands trailing boldly up her thigh.
she wasn’t.
“no!” her cry cracked, but her hips betrayed her, jerking at the touch.
“you have been, since the day you were born.”
she wanted to wake up, wanted it to stop.
make it stop.
“no!” her scream cracked through the arena, desperate and raw, as the glowing marks surged up her body, burning across her skin.
then—
the lights exploded out above her, plunging everything into suffocating black.
they were gone.
rumi stood frozen, chest heaving, tears burning hot in her eyes as the last flicker of light sputtered out. her mind spun, trying to process the humiliation, the cruelty, the heat still crawling under her skin.
and it didn’t fucking help that her bulge wasn’t getting any smaller.
she felt tears burn her eyes, frustration and fear crawling up her body.
what was happening?
“ruuumi,”
the voice slithered through the dark, right behind her.
she yelped, spinning around too fast, stumbling until she crashed onto her ass, palms scraping the stage.
zoey crouched down, hands on her knees as her eyes scanned over rumi’s figure with a smirk, but rumi could tell zoey wasn’t thinking anything nice.
she giggled, low and cruel. “were you… hard that whole time?” she asked, though the smirk on her lips said she already knew.
rumi’s legs snapped shut, panic shooting through her. her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
her throat was dry, useless.
what could she even say? what excuse was there for this?
zoey bit her lip, tilting her head as she sank to her knees. she crawled closer with the easy, deliberate grace of a predator, her tube top straining against her breasts, sweat gleaming across her skin.
rumi’s cock pulsed violently at the sight. her stomach clenched hard.
god, she shouldn’t be turned on by this—her friend, her bandmate—yet her tongue darted out to wet her lips as zoey crept between her knees.
zoey’s hand landed on rumi’s kneecap, tapping twice before she pried her legs apart like it was nothing. claiming the space, she leaned in and peered down at the bulge pressing against rumi’s pants, studying it like a piece of art.
“stop looking,” rumi snapped, her voice breaking.
zoey’s gaze flicked up. gone was the soft brown warmth. her eyes glowed red, simmering, dangerous.
the smile that curved onto her lips wasn’t kind. it was sharp. wicked. curious.
“well, that’s not fair,” zoey pouted. “you’re hard because of me, aren’t you, pervert?”
rumi’s whole body jolted at the word. her pulse thundered, cock throbbing painfully against its confines. words tumbled in her head, useless, desperate. “i’m not—”
“not what?” zoey cut her off, lip caught between her teeth, amusement sparking in her gaze. “not a disgusting, perverted demon getting off on being tossed around?”
the words carved through her, and rumi’s heart skipped painfully, half from the sting of shame, half from the traitorous pleasure twisting deep in her stomach.
her eyes flickered with tears. “i just—i didn’t want you guys to find out this way.”
zoey’s laugh cracked out of her, first a stifled giggle, then full, unrestrained. “you—oh my god, rumi, you’re hilarious!”
it wasn’t kind. it was sharp, slicing through her like claws. rumi’s body shrank in on itself, shoulders curling, marks flickering faintly as her face burned crimson.
she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. every heartbeat only made the humiliation feel worse.
zoey leaned in close, laughter fading into something darker. “rumi, rumi… don’t be ashamed of it, honey.”
her hands slid slow down rumi’s thighs, tracing glowing patterns, before dipping lower. her palm pressed firmly against rumi’s bulge, casual as if testing weight, dominance in the simplicity of her touch. “you’re pretty big down here,” she murmured, smirk deepening. “nothing to be ashamed of.”
“no—that isn’t—” rumi’s breath hitched, panic clawing up her throat. “i was talking about my patterns.”
a pause.
zoey’s brows rose, feigned innocence written all over her face. “oh. those.” she tilted her head, grin flashing sharp as a knife. “well, you should be ashamed of those. you’ve been hiding them from me for so long.”
the words hollowed her chest, shame flaring hotter than ever. rumi’s lips parted, desperate to protest, but nothing came out—just silence and the weight of zoey’s hand pressing harder against her.
“i wasn’t hiding from you—” rumi blurted, heart racing, “i was trying to protect you and mira!”
zoey’s hand gripped her cock through her shorts, fingers curling possessively as her expression turned sour. the sudden squeeze wrenched a gasp from rumi, mortified heat flooding her face. her legs twitched, trying to close, but zoey was already nestled between them, immovable, grinning like a cat with a cornered mouse.
the audience.
her gaze darted out toward the audience—but the seats were gone. hollow rows. empty shadows stretching into infinity.
“they’re gone, rumi,” zoey cooed, pressing harder against her. “don’t look over there. just focus on me.”
“zoey!” rumi exclaimed, breath hitching. marks flickered faintly down her arms, glowing like cracks in porcelain. her chest heaved as her best friend—her tormentor—nuzzled against her bulge like it was hers to toy with.
“you think we need you to protect us? please.” zoey laughed, low and cruel, dragging her cheek slowly along the outline straining against her shorts. “you’re rumi. you get hard from seeing an ankle.”
her grin widened as she tilted her head, lips brushing close to the damp fabric, her breath hot. “these 'patterns’ you're whining about don’t make you scary.” she flicked her eyes up at rumi, cruelly triumphant. “they make you weak.”
zoey slid back onto her knees, slow and deliberate, her movements a performance in cruelty. her ass perched high, torso low, like a cat stretching out before the pounce.
rumi’s breath hitched when zoey’s eyes flicked up, glowing red, catching every tremor shivering through her body. she didn’t break the stare as she tilted her head and pressed her cheek against the thick bulge in rumi’s pants, nuzzling into it like it was something warm—something hers.
“zoey… please,” rumi whispered, marks flickering faintly down her arms, glowing like porcelain cracked under too much pressure. her chest heaved. zoey was crouched between her legs, nails tracing the outline of her cock through the fabric, every touch unbearable, every second making her squirm.
zoey only grinned wider. she dragged her nails lazily over rumi’s thighs before flicking open the button in one practiced motion.
rumi gasped.
then zoey dipped lower, lips brushing against the cool metal before her teeth caught the zipper and tugged it down, slow, obscene, never breaking eye contact.
“f-fuck…” rumi’s voice cracked. her head fell back, damp hair clinging to her flushed face as the sound echoed into the hollow stage.
zoey’s hand slid inside, fingers curling possessively around her. she drew rumi’s cock out with a low, delighted whistle. “hello to you, big fellow.”
rumi’s chest seized, heat flooding up her neck. “zoeyyy—”
zoey giggled, biting her lip as she sprawled onto her stomach. “oh, come on! that was funny!” her grip was light, teasing, but rumi still jolted—her cock twitching violently in zoey’s fist. the sound that ripped from her throat was raw, dragged up from somewhere deeper than shame. her clawed hands scraped against the wooden stage, the vibrations echoing through her arms as if she could pin herself down before she was swept away.
zoey tilted her head,. “besides, i don’t think you really mind, hm? already dripping for me.” she leaned forward and pressed a single kiss to the tip.
the sensation cracked through rumi like lightning. her body jolted, nerves alight, muscles seizing in helpless response. pleasure surged through her in waves that left her trembling, her marks flaring with light as if they too couldn’t contain the pressure.
zoey smirked, lips brushing over the flushed head. “shut up,” she spat, tone playfully cruel, savoring the power in her hands.
rumi’s eyes blurred, tears slipping free as shame burned hotter than the pleasure. “nngh! auhhh—!”
zoey licked a lazy stripe up her length, giving nothing of what rumi needed, only tasting, only teasing. “eugh, gross,” she murmured against her. “why are you thinking about me like this, rumi?”
rumi’s whole body shook. she tried to speak, but only a broken moan left her lips.
zoey’s laugh was low, wicked. “how do you think i feel, knowing my best friend’s having dreams like this?” she pressed her lips around the head, sucking gently—just enough to make rumi cry out, just enough to remind her who was in control.
her tongue flicked, savoring the salt. she pulled back with a string of spit clinging, grinning up with glowing red eyes. “you’re about to cum, ru-ru,” she teased, thumb stroking the wet tip.
“zoey—don’t—ahh!” rumi’s protest shattered into a moan as zoey sank down, taking her into wet heat.
rumi’s thighs jerked, toes curling against the stage floor as her cock slid deeper, swallowed by her mouth. her vision blurred white, hands slamming against the stage to keep from clawing at zoey herself.
“f-fuck! oh god, zoey—”
zoey hummed low, the vibrations rippling up her length. it was mocking, gleeful, like she relished every sound rumi made.
her head bobbed slow, tongue swirling against the underside, eyes locked on rumi’s tear-streaked face, the desperate arch of her back, the marks flaring brighter with every second.
“you’re so fucking weak,” zoey sneered, pulling off just to wipe spit from her lip—before plunging down again, deeper. her throat tightened deliberately around her, gagging once, then easing back with a smirk.
rumi unraveled, hips bucked helplessly, thighs trembling, shame and bliss colliding until she could barely breathe.
zoey only pushed further, lips stretching around her as she took her all the way down, nose brushing rumi’s stomach. she stayed there, swallowing around her, making sure rumi felt every inch trapped inside her throat.
“zoey—i’m gonna—i can’t—!” rumi gasped, voice cracking, clawing at her own hair like she could rip the pressure free.
then—
“are you close, rumi?”
the voice came from behind, smooth, sharp. her body jerked, eyes snapping open.
mira.
she crouched close, so near her breath warmed rumi’s ear. that same glint burned in her eyes—the twin to zoey’s.
mira’s lips grazed her neck, pressing a mocking kiss. “does it feel good?” she whispered. “is her mouth warm?”
silence.
“answer me,” mira demanded, nails grazing the glowing cracks along rumi’s arm.
rumi tried to deny, but only a shuddering whimper came out—her hips jerking toward zoey’s mouth, head falling helplessly back against mira’s shoulder.
mira’s smirk widened against her skin. “that’s what i thought.” her tongue traced the shell of rumi’s ear as her hand pressed low against her stomach, feeling every twitch inside zoey’s throat.
and then, just as rumi’s body lurched on the edge, zoey pulled off with a wet pop. a string of spit clung from her tongue to rumi’s cock, gleaming in the stage light.
rumi whimpered, hips jerking uselessly into air. the sudden absence was torture.
zoey wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, laughing cruelly. “you really thought i was gonna let you come inside my mouth?” her voice cut like glass, mocking every trembling inch of rumi.
she leaned forward suddenly, shoving at rumi’s head.
her fingers tangled in rumi’s braid, yanking her head up hard enough to make her gasp. rumi’s tear-brimmed eyes met zoey’s sharp grin as she stood tall above her.
“hey,” zoey sneered, tugging her hair tighter before, “zo-zo.” mira’s sultry voice purred, interrupting smoothly. “don’t be so mean to her.” mira giggled lowly, moving from behind rumi to crouch in front of her.
zoey rolled her eyes but didn’t release rumi’s braid, keeping her head tilted back and vulnerable. “i can’t help it, mir. she looks so pretty like this—i wanna ruin her…”
rumi's heart fluttered.
they hate me because i'm a demon but at least they think i'm pretty.
mira snorted, brushing her fingers lightly over rumi’s flushed cheek, the touch gentle where zoey’s grip was harsh. “pretty, always. pathetic, definitely.”
rumi’s lips parted as mira’s thumb traced across them, the featherlight touch drawing a muffled moan. mira’s eyes lit with amusement, her gaze flicking up at zoey.
“it’s okay, though. i like pathetic.”
zoey bit her lip, rolling her eyes. “yeah, you like anything you think you can fix.”
mira’s gaze slid down rumi’s wrecked, trembling body, lingering on the way her cock twitched helplessly against her stomach.
rumi swallowed hard.
why were they talking over me like i’m just furniture?
mira licked her lips, smirking. “she looks like she’s about to break. maybe i should help her.”
zoey snorted. “a dirty liar like her? and i thought i was the people pleaser, mir-mir.”
but rumi’s attention snapped to mira as the woman stood, unhurriedly sliding her shorts down her pale thighs.
rumi’s cock twitched, straining, as her gaze locked helplessly onto the soft curve of mira’s skin.
mira laughed low, catching rumi’s stare. “excited?”
rumi’s head bobbed in a desperate nod before she even realized it.
mira giggled, sinking onto rumi’s lap with slow, deliberate weight. her nails dug into rumi’s shoulders as she perched, forcing another broken gasp out of her. “don’t listen to zoey. you’re more than a lying demon.”
rumi wanted, to believe her.
but the soft, sweetness in mira’s tone was sugarcoated poison.
it was the same cruelty zoey wielded with a grin… just wrapped in silk.
and god, she loved it.
zoey yanked her braid again, wrenching a whimper from her throat. “don’t you dare move. don’t even breathe unless we say so.”
she nodded, biting her bottom lip as if to wake up from a dream.
“can you do something for me, ru-ru?” mira asked sweetly, sitting up on her knees, peering down at her with false innocence.
“o—of course. anything.”
mira’s smile curved slow and wicked. “slide my panties to the side, will you?” her gaze dropped meaningfully, watching the way rumi’s chest heaved, the marks pulsing against her skin.
rumi’s chest heaved, the heat crawling all the way up her throat.
she’d never—never been this close to anyone like this before. not really. and now it was mira—mira, who made her stomach knot and her head spin.
her fingers trembled as they brushed against the lace at mira’s hips. the fabric was warm from her body, softer than rumi expected, and when her hand grazed the dampness at the center, her pulse stuttered. she almost gasped, almost pulled back, but mira’s weight on her lap pinned her in place.
gods—she’s wet. she’s actually wet. for me.
her touch wandered lower, grazing the faint, coarse softness beneath the thin fabric. every detail felt magnified, sacred, unbearably real.
rumi swallowed hard, heart pounding in her ears as she finally obeyed, sliding mira’s panties aside with shaking fingers. the cool air rushed in to meet mira’s heat, and rumi’s eyes widened at the sight revealed to her.
her chest tightened. she felt dizzy.
it’s real. she’s real. and i’m actually seeing her like this.
rumi’s eyes locked helplessly on the sight between mira’s thighs, her mouth falling open without a sound. her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst.
this is it. this is what i’ve dreamed of. and it’s her—them? no. fuck, i’m such a pathetic idiot.
zoey tilted her head, watching rumi’s stare, a cruel little smirk tugging at her lips. “oh my god. you’ve really never seen one before, have you?” she giggled, the sound bright and merciless. “you’re practically drooling.”
heat flared across rumi’s face, shame and arousal twisting together until she couldn’t tell them apart. she tried to look away, but zoey caught her chin between two fingers, forcing her wide-eyed gaze back.
“don’t you dare look away now,” she purred. “you begged for this, didn’t you? all that pathetic whining… and now you get to see her. isn’t that what you wanted?” zoey laughed softly, savoring her weakness.
then, with unhurried deliberation, she rose onto her knees and tugged her tube top up. the fabric slid over her chest until her breasts spilled free, shaped and perfect.
mira whistled low, small smirk on her lips.
rumi’s whole body lit with heat, dizzy and overwhelming, like fire rushing through her veins. she almost swore the room itself had gone brighter, that everyone could see how undone she was.
mira’s laughter broke the silence, low and steady. she reached out, cupping zoey’s breast, rolling it in her palm as though daring rumi not to stare.
zoey gasped, her hand clamping onto mira’s wrist as her body arched. “oww, mira. i’m sensitive.”
“i’m sorry, sweet girl. come here—let me make it better.” mira’s voice dripped with mock sympathy as her hand slid down zoey’s taut stomach, lower, until her fingers found their way between zoey’s thighs.
rumi’s heart slammed against her ribs. she couldn’t tear her eyes away—the sight of them together, the sound of zoey’s ragged moan—it was unbearable. her body was aching, throbbing with need.
zoey’s head lolled back, lips curling into a grin even through the haze. she tilted her gaze downward, locking eyes with rumi.
that sharp, mocking glint hadn’t dulled at all.
“you see this, loser? this is what she gives me.” her voice cracked with laughter and lust. “and you’ll never touch it.”
“don’t tease her, zoey.”
mira swung her leg off rumi’s lap, guiding zoey close against her chest. one arm wound snugly around zoey’s waist, the other sliding lower with agonizing slowness. zoey’s hips jolted, her breath shattering in mira’s ear.
“mira—! mira..!” zoey clutched at her hair, her voice breaking as mira’s fingers moved inside her.
rumi’s cock twitched against her stomach, the pleasure of watching them, wishing, she was between them made her cock hard.
fuck, she felt like she could get blue balls at this point.
rumi’s thighs trembled, her body jerking uselessly against the air. her face burned with humiliation, but her chest swelled with dizzying hunger.
mira’s hand moved with unhurried precision, her lips brushing against zoey’s throat as her fingers worked deeper, rougher, steadier. zoey’s laughter cracked into a ragged gasp, her whole body jerking against mira’s hold.
“ah—fuck—!” zoey’s nails scraped over mira’s shoulders, her grin faltering, her taunts dying in her throat. she tried to look down at rumi again, to keep mocking, but her eyes rolled back instead, her head tipping helplessly against mira’s chest.
rumi’s breath hitched. the sight of zoey—always sharp, always cruel—reduced to a mess in mira’s arms… it lit her body on fire.
mira’s smirk deepened as zoey’s voice broke into incoherent moans. “that’s it,” she cooed against her ear, her hand never slowing, never relenting. “you talk such a big game, zo, but look at you now. can’t even form words.”
zoey groaned, hips grinding frantically into mira’s palm, the sound raw and unguarded. every harsh breath left her lips parted, trembling.
and rumi—pathetic, trembling rumi—could only sit there, thighs shaking, mouth dry, her chest so tight she thought she might shatter.
zoey let out a strangled cry, her body arching as mira pressed harder, faster, dragging her over the edge. her voice broke into pure sound, no words left, her usual sharp grin completely obliterated.
mira chuckled low in triumph, watching zoey unravel in her arms, then turned her head just enough to meet rumi’s gaze over her shoulder.
the look she gave was merciless.
“see, rumi?” mira whispered, stroking zoey through her climax, holding her like a prize. “if only you were worth touching.”
rumi whimpered, her whole body aching.
zoey slumped against mira’s chest, her body shivering as the last waves of release rolled through her. for once, she wasn’t grinning—just gasping, flushed, too wrung out to form another cruel word.
mira hummed in satisfaction, stroking zoey’s hair almost tenderly. then her gaze flicked down to rumi, still kneeling, still staring like she couldn’t breathe.
the corners of mira’s lips curved into something crueler.
“you want a turn, don’t you?” mira’s voice dripped with mock-sweetness as her eyes trailed down to rumi’s cock, nearly purple. “poor thing. you’ll get blue balls if we don’t soothe that soon.”
“zoey, would you?”
zoey snapped her eyes open, her warm haze immediately dissipating. “she—,”
“ah.” mira silenced her with a firm tug on her hair. “you’ll do what i say. and i say you’re going to ride her.” she tilted zoey’s chin up, kissed her sharply, then stood up with her. “i know how much you love being on top.”
zoey bit her lip, failing to smother the grin tugging at the corners. a shaky laugh escaped her, and she moved toward rumi, her steps uneven from mira’s touch still thrumming through her body.
rumi’s breath seized, chest tightening as zoey lowered to the floor and swung a leg over rumi’s, settling onto her thighs. the sudden weight, the press of her body so close, made rumi shudder. her hands twitched uselessly at her sides, every nerve begging to reach out, to worship, but fear of zoey’s scorn held her frozen.
mira, of course, wasn’t done. she hooked her fingers in rumi’s chin, forcing her head back until their eyes met.
“and you—pathetic little thing—you’ll keep your mouth busy.” mira’s hand trailed lower, down her stomach, and she slipped her fingers between her thighs with deliberate slowness. when she drew them back, slick and glistening, she pressed them firmly to rumi’s lips. “show me you’re good for something.”
rumi’s eyes fluttered, her lips parting instinctively before she nodded, the need in her body stronger than her shame. she licked at mira’s fingers, the taste dizzying, her chest heaving as heat spread through her.
then she gasped—cut off by the sudden shock of heat and pressure above. zoey sank down with a low groan, her face tightening as she moved, and the sensation wrapped rumi in a suffocating rush.
her body jolted, every muscle seizing.
zoey’s hands dug into rumi’s shoulders, her grin flashing wild through the haze of pleasure. “fuck, she’s big, mira.”
her chest flared with pride.
“d—don’t let this boost your ego,” zoey panted, cunt clenching tightly around rumi’s length as she pressed her back to the floor. her hips rocked with greedy insistence, every roll sinking her deeper. “mmn—you’re just a seat.”
somehow that boosted her ego even more
rumi whimpered, her pride collapsing into desperation. she wanted to move, to thrust, to do something—but she obeyed, trembling beneath her.
mira laughed softly sinking to her knees and lowering herself onto rumi’s face, thighs bracketing rumi’s head.
rumi’s lips sealed around her in an instant, touching eagerly slurping up her slick, savoring the taste on her tongue.
it was nothing like she’d ever imagined.
nothing like she thought she deserved.
her chest burned as she lapped, greedy, clumsy, desperate to please.
“don’t come unless i tell you.” zoey moaned above her, her rhythm faltering as she lifted her hips, dropping them once more, the words on her tongue breaking apart into raw sounds.
mira’s eyes fluttered closed. leaning back slightly as rumi’s tongue worked on her. “don’t move, right there! good girl. just like that.“
rumi was drowning—enamored by how tight zoey felt around her, how intoxicating mira tasted against her tongue.
every sense overloaded, her mind spiraling into blank heat.
and she was trying, genuinely trying to stay still to obey like mira needed, trying not to come like zoey wanted.
but that heat, that pressure, that unbearable tightness squeezing around her—it was too much. every pulse dragged rumi closer to the edge. the way zoey clenched, wringing the fight out of her body, made her tremble from head to toe.
her hands curled uselessly against the floor, nails carving lines into the wood. she wanted to grab zoey’s hips, to thrust up, to make her cry—but mira’s command echoed like a brand in her skull:
don’t move unless mira tells you to.
and still, her body betrayed her. her hips bucked, shallow and frantic, a muffled moan spilling into mira’s cunt.
zoey gasped, her head snapping back. “ah—fuck!” her nails raked down rumi’s stomach as her pace grew wild, her own control cracking.
rumi’s mouth moved desperately against mira, tongue aching, jaw straining, clinging to the only rhythm mira allowed her.
mira yanked rumi’s braid, grinding her down harder. “oh, i felt that,” she purred, her grin wicked. “did you just move, rumi?”
her chest heaved, her muffled pleas lost in mira’s wet heat—her body betraying her again, grinding helplessly up into zoey.
zoey’s grin returned, crooked and hazy, her voice breaking with breathless delight. “she did. twice. she can’t help it.” she slammed herself down, wringing a strangled cry from rumi’s throat.
mira lifted her hips suddenly, pulling herself from rumi’s mouth. the absence was devastating, leaving rumi whining, gasping, her nails digging deep into the floor to stop her hands from reaching up, dragging mira back down.
mira tilted her head, watching her with merciless amusement. “how incredibly annoying. already addicted. this is why you don’t give virgins a taste." she sighed as she leaned closer, her weight pressing down on rumi’s shoulders, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “look at you,” she murmured, voice low and teasing. “you want it back? you want to taste me again?”
rumi’s lips trembled around mira, her chest heaving, hips jerking uncontrollably even as she tried to obey. she could barely form words, but her nod was frantic, desperate.
“say it,” mira purred. “beg for it. show me you’re good for something.”
“p-please… mira… i—i want you… i need you…” rumi gasped, her voice muffled against mira’s skin, her hands scrabbling at the floor to keep herself from lunging forward. “i can make you feel good… just let me—please…”
mira’s grin widened, slow and wicked. “that’s better. perfect. that’s exactly how i like you.” she pressed herself back down, letting rumi taste her fully again, the warmth making rumi shiver violently, completely undone.
zoey groaned above her, body trembling, hips stuttering against rumi’s lap. her usual sharpness had melted away, leaving raw need, her voice cracking between moans. “i’m so close… rumi…” a strangled laugh followed, breathless and broken.
rumi’s cock throbbed inside zoey as she moaned her name, stretched tight, trapped between the women she was falling, oh so deep for.
mira’s stomach clenched, her eyes snapping shut as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. rumi’s lips clamped instinctively, sucking, licking, following her command with trembling obedience.
“rumi!” mira cried out, voice breaking as the first shiver hit her.
zoey’s grip tightened on rumi’s shoulders, nails digging into her skin as she shuddered, a ragged cry spilling from her lips. “ah—fuck, rumi—!” her body arched uncontrollably, trembling atop rumi, her release tearing through her in ragged bursts.
rumi’s hands came up to mira’s thighs, holding them as she ate her with fervor.
it was her name they were moaning.
their bodies she was pleasing.
she couldn’t help but help them tip over the edge.
her chest heaved, every nerve screaming. the heat, the tightness, the overwhelming sense of being wanted and used—she couldn’t hold back. her hips jerked, cock throbbing as mira pressed herself harder against her mouth, and rumi’s own cry tore out, muffled but absolute.
everything felt so warm around her. she could feel herself—so close—ready to tip over into oblivion.
and then—
rumi shot upright, chest heaving, heart pounding.
her room. her desk. the dim glow of her computer screen.
fuck.
again?
she slumped back into her chair, one shaky hand wiping sweat from her flushed face. her breath came ragged, the echo of the dream still burning through her body. her stomach clenched as the aftershocks twisted low and hot—reminding her that it hadn’t been just a dream.
she could feel it.
sticky warmth strung across her stomach, cooling against her skin.
rumi groaned, dragging both hands down her face.
“shit…”
the shame settled in like lead, but beneath it, her cock still twitched, traitorous, already aching for more.
rumi groaned again, shoving her chair back hard enough that the legs screeched against the floor. she grabbed the tissues from her desk and wiped herself down, each drag across her stomach leaving her face hotter, her ears ringing.
her hand shook.
god, she hated this.
hated that she’d let herself go again, hated that she couldn’t get rid of the feeling—the taste, the sounds, the way zoey’s voice had cracked in her ear, the way mira’s lips had curved like she owned her.
rumi’s jaw clenched, shame bubbling like acid in her throat. she tossed the tissues into the trash and buried her face in her hands.
“you’re pathetic,” she whispered to herself, the words muffled and raw.
but her body didn’t agree. her cock twitched against her thigh, already stirring again at the memory, at the phantom weight of zoey’s thighs bracketing her hips, the wet heat of mira grinding against her mouth.
the thought made her shudder.
it wasn’t just a dream anymore. it was stuck—looping in her head, painted across her body. every blink brought the images back: zoey’s wicked red eyes, mira’s cruel smirk. the sound of her own name breaking in their throats.
she should be revolted. she should bury it, lock it away, never think about it again.
instead, the ache deep in her gut told her the truth.
she wanted it back.
rumi leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cool desk surface, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. her breath hitched as her hand slid down against her will, shame and hunger twisting together until she couldn’t tell them apart.
“just one more time,” she whispered, a plea she didn’t know if she was begging herself or someone else.
her marks flickered faintly to life along her arms as her eyes slipped shut.
maybe if she wanted it badly enough… maybe the dream would come again.
i hope you enjoyed! leave a comment if you do and my requests are always open !! ^^
summary. mira and rumi were some of the most competiitive women in the world, at least that’s what zoey think. so, if a game of mario kart can't decide which of them is the best, maybe there are... alternative methods.
warnings. rumira. polytrix already established. smut. g!p rumi. top!rumi. top!mira. dom!rumi. they battle for dominance, guess who wins. dom/sub dynamic. play fighting. power play. blowjobs. dubcon. biting kink.
a/n: this is majorly based off of my one of my headcanons that mira and rumi argue over stupid shit a lot and will most certainly start fighting if they dont resch a conclusion. also i got too lazy to decapitalize so if it looks weird then that's what it is so sorry, I'll probably change it later. also I will be updating soft, first kisses, sometime in the next few days.
ao3.
Mira and Rumi loved each other. A lot.
The kind of love that made the air hum when they entered a room, that tethered them together no matter how far apart they stood.
Their souls quite literally responded to the sound of the other’s voice—drawn like magnets, whether they were whispering or yelling. Zoey included, of course, in that strange, beautiful triad they’d built like some messy celestial accident.
But anyone who’s ever loved deeply knows: love doesn’t always mean peace. In fact, sometimes it means the opposite. The closer the bond, the more volatile the friction
And when you’ve got two hotheaded, competitive, stubborn women crammed under the same roof, sharing the same couch, breathing the same air?
Things get… dicey.
So—why Zoey chose to bring out her Nintendo and buying Mario Kart during their small family night was beyond her honesty.
Please, save her.
“I crossed the line first!” Mira snapped, stabbing an accusatory finger at the TV, where the game’s result had the audacity to flash TIE in all-caps, bold yellow letters. The kind of letters that felt smug, condescending.
“Do you not have your contacts in, or are you just acting blind on purpose?” Rumi fired back, already flinging her controller onto the couch with the flair of a woman wronged. “I hit that drift like a proooo, dude! You heard Lakitu. We were neck and neck!”
Zoey cringed at Rumi’s words, brows scrunching.
Ugh, don’t teach those two anymore slang.
Mira rose from the couch like a storm cloud condensing from thin air, arms folded tightly over her chest, the kind of posture that said: I’m about to ruin your entire night.
Rumi rose to meet her, a fraction shorter but no less defiant, her shoulders squaring as she stared up into Mira’s face like a challenge waiting to happen.
“Neck and neck,” Mira said coolly, her tone butter-smooth and condescending, “means I was ahead by a neck. My neck. Which is longer, by the way, short stack.”
“Short stack!?” Rumi scoffed, laughing with her whole chest, head thrown back. “Oh wow. Are we measuring necks now? In the big 2025? Here, let me grab a ruler, giraffe-girl.”
Oh my god.
Zoey groaned, loud and long, flopping backward onto the couch like a civilian caught in a crossfire.
“Okayyy, you two,” she said, voice muffled by a pillow. “The screen says tie. Let’s just leave it at that, okayyy?” She said as she stood, walking toward Rumi and pressing a kiss to her lips before doing the same to Mira. “Call it a draw, go play another round or fight or whatever you two do. This is turtle-ly ridiculous so I’m removing myself from this narrative.”
She patted Mira’s chest before she made her way toward the kitchen. “I’m making popcorn then going upstairs. If one of you gets stabbed, yell first so I don’t spill the butter.”
But neither Mira nor Rumi were listening to her.
They were already locked in.
“No! No!” Mira barked, cheeks flushed as she spun back toward the screen and jabbing the air like it personally betrayed her. “I won fair and square! It was four to three to two—until someone opened their big, fat mouth and said it should be six-for-six!”
“My mouth is not big!” Rumi shouted, grabbing the nearest pillow and chucking it like a grenade. It hit Mira square in the shoulder with a satisfying whumph. “Mira! You’re just mad I had the better boosters. You saw it. Triple mushroom. I flew through that shortcut like a legend!”
“Oh my god,” Mira hissed, eyes narrowing, voice low and dangerous. “You used the Waluigi bike. I told you that thing’s cursed.”
“It’s not cursed, it’s optimized! You just don’t know how to drive!”
“You don’t know how to let go of losing!”
“I. Didn’t. Lose!”
There was a beat of silence.
Then an explosion of movement.
The familiar hiss of steel sliding free echoed through the living room. Zoey, halfway into pouring melted butter, paused.
She turned around and sighed deeply. Rumi’s blade was out—sharp, gleaming under the lights—and held like a threat wrapped in grace. Mira’s gokdo followed a second later, her hand drawing it in a single smooth flick, the gleam in her eyes unmistakable.
They stood across from each other, muscles coiled, energy vibrating between them like an electric fence. Couch cushions lay on the floor like fallen soldiers.
“Hey!” Zoey called, hand on her hip, popcorn bowl tucked under her arm. “Move the couches and the table before you start fighting! I’m going to our room. Please don’t die while I’m not watching.”
With that, she turned on her heel, climbed the floating stairs two at a time, and disappeared into their shared bedroom, muttering, “Unreal.”
Back downstairs, the air shifted.
Mira kicked the couch off to the side while Rumi did the same to the coffee table.
No more jokes.
They lunged.
Blades clanged, gliding against each other in bursts of sparks and heat. Mira struck first. A clean and efficient attack, eyes laser-focused. Rumi ducked low, slicing upward, pushing back with a snarl on her lips.
The room became a flurry of movement, grunts, shouts, feet slamming into floorboards as they danced each other.
Mira spun and aimed a swift kick at Rumi’s side, but Rumi caught it, twisting and shoving her back against the wall.
“They say people with long legs usually kick well. Does that not apply to you?” Rumi taunted, breathless, a feral grin spreading across her face.
“You wish you had legs half as long as mine.” Mira shot back, grabbing Rumi by the collar of her shirt and slamming her backward into the floor with a thud.
They rolled—once, twice—bodies twisting, grappling like they were made for it. Their swords lay forgotten somewhere under the couch.
Their fight had turned into something else entirely.
Hands gripped shoulders. Fingers twisted into hair. Thighs tangled, locked. Breath caught, shallow and hot. There was no finesse now—just instinct, pressure, and heat.
It wasn’t even really about Mario Kart at this point, and they weren’t trying to hurt each other either.
They just wanted to win.
To dominate. To make the other yield. Mira’s knee drove up between Rumi’s legs, only for Rumi to shove her weight down harder, sliding her thigh dangerously close to where Mira was already beginning to ache.
Mira gritted her teeth.
But she had the advantage—for now.
She straddled Rumi’s hips, both hands wrapped tight around both of rumi’s wrists, pinning her arms to her side. Rumi’s eyes narrowed, body tense beneath her, but Mira only smirked.
“Not so tough from down there, huh?” Mira breathed, her voice thick with sweat and triumph. “Maybe you should stay put. You’re kinda cute like this.”
Rumi tugged against her hold—once, twice—but it was no use. Mira’s grip was solid and confident.
Which only made her cocky.
And that only pissed Rumi off.
“Shut up, Mira,” Rumi spat, voice tight, breath rushing through her nose as she strained against the restraint.
Her wrists ached from tension, and her pride stung more than anything.
“Aww, come make me. Oh wait, you can’t.” Mira grinned, leaning down, brushing her nose against Rumi’s with maddening gentleness. “Not getting up without my say-so.”
She sat up fully, knees pressed into the hardwood floor while her thighs caged around Rumi’s stomach.
And for extra measure, just to make sure Rumi didn’t try to flip her over, Mira shifted her hips just slightly, unknowingly letting the full weight of her ass grind against the thick outline of Rumi’s bulge.
Rumi exhaled sharply, brows knotting as her jaw tensed.
“Shit—” she hissed, hands flexing beneath Mira’s grip. The friction hit her just right, sweet enough to hurt.
Mira’s smirk faltered, blinking in confusion.
Something was off.
Her eyes flicked down to Rumi’s face—tightened, flushed, too still. Not the usual fire or arrogance, not even the irritation. There was something restrained. Focused. Tense.
“You ready to give up?” Mira asked slowly, trying to keep her tone teasing—but her fingers stayed firm around Rumi’s wrists.
Rumi didn’t answer right away.
Instead, she gave a short breath and lifted her hips beneath her, just enough to test the pressure of Mira’s hold. The moment she did, a flicker of light pulsed across her ribs—those golden marks just under her skin igniting faintly like a low-burning flame.
And Mira’s smirk returned, brightened, twitching up to her eyes.
”Did you just—did you just grind yourself into me?”
Her tone was playful, but her body tensed, eyes glued to the soft glow still pulsing beneath Rumi’s skin.
Mira shifted her hips just a little, dragging her weight slow and deliberate over the bulge pressed under her. Rumi sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, her arms tensing under Mira’s grip.
“Mira.
“Ohhh… Rumi,” Mira purred, dragging her hips forward again, letting her core press down right where Rumi was hardest. “Is that what you wanted?”
Rumi’s breath hitched, sharp and shaky. “Mov—“
Mira’s grind was deliberate now—taunting, devastating. Slow circles of her hips that left heat blooming beneath Rumi’s skin.
She was purposefully cruel with it, dragging that sweet, wet ache along Rumi’s bulge like she knew exactly what it was doing.
Rumi’s fingers twitched at her sides, digging into the floor.
“Poor Rumi, she needs this, huh?” Mira asked again, smug and saccharine, her voice a wicked caress.
Rumi tried to speak but the friction was too good, too precise. All she could do was groan low, her teeth gritting, her body jerking instinctively upward, chasing the pressure.
She went still, then softened—her body sinking into the floor, breath evening out. Her wrists stopped straining against Mira’s grasp. Her legs relaxed beneath the straddle.
Mira smirked, believing she’d won. “Aww,” she crooned, “giving up already?”
She leaned down, lips brushing Rumi’s cheek, warm breath pooling between them. “That’s my Rumi.”
Rumi’s eyes fluttered half-closed. She even let out a soft, almost broken sound—low in her throat, submissive.
Mira’s grip loosened just a bit. Just a little shift in weight.
And that was all Rumi needed.
Her eyes snapped open—glinting like a blade. In one sharp, fluid movement, her hips bucked up, knees hooking, and she twisted—
Mira yelped as the world flipped beneath her. The floor met her back hard, air knocked from her lungs.
In a blink, Rumi was on top of her, crouched low, wrists pinned above her head. Her eyes were wild—smug and shining with triumph.
Mira blinked up at her, stunned, heat roaring under her skin.
“You’re not being fair, Mir,” Rumi murmured, voice like smoke as she leaned in, their noses nearly brushing. Her grip tightened just a little, playful but firm. “You’ll never win like that.”
“Fuuck, you’re such a little shit,” Mira hissed, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. “That hurt.”
Rumi grinned, all teeth and mischief. “That’s what you get. The whole ‘grinding against me’ thing? Please.”
“Nooo, you did it first trying to be slick and it failed,” Mira shot back, but her voice wavered when Rumi shifted, just a subtle grind of her hips that made Mira bite back a sound.
“Oh, please,” Rumi whispered, voice dipping low, lips brushing the edge of Mira’s jaw. “You can’t outplay and outflirt me.”
Mira’s nose twitched. “Shut up,” she muttered, squirming beneath her.
God, Rumi was strong.
Too strong. And too cocky. And too damn close.
Rumi, for her part, was buzzing. The way Mira wriggled under her, flushed and squirming?
She’s trying to act tough, but she’s already breaking.
The temptation to push, just a little more, burned in her throat.
“You look pretty like this,” Rumi murmured suddenly, her voice intimate. “All pinned down and winded. It suits you.”
Mira’s breath caught.
No it doesn’t.No. Just no.
“Fuck you.” Mira spat, but heat was blooming low in her gut, traitorous and hot.
Rumi smirked—and rolled her hips, slow and firm between Mira’s thighs. “If you say so.”
Mira sucked in a sharp breath, body arching before she could stop it.
Don’t. React. Don’t.
But her hips pressed back into Rumi and her breath shuddered as she exhaled.
“Mm,” she hummed, eyes lighting up. “You think I couldn’t tell you grinding those pretty hips on me wasn’t effecting you too?”
“Be quiet,” Mira warned, a little too fast. Her voice cracked with effort, low and trembling around the edges.
Rumi’s hips rolled again and Mira let out a whined before speaking. “You’re not going to seduce me, Rumi. I know you’re nothing but a needy girl who needs her fix—but not now.”
Rumi’s pupils dilated at the sweet tone of Mira’s voice, so condescending in such a sweet way. And she loved it. Her marks flared across her collarbones and arms, glowing faintly. Heat pulsed through her, blooming in waves.
Rumi was losing focus by the minute, and Mira could see.
In one clean, practiced motion, she lifted her hips, bringing her legs around Rumi’s neck and using her arms to push her upper body off the ground.
Rumi gasped, caught off guard.
What the fuck—
And then she was down.
Mira moved to sit up—now it was Rumi flat on her back, Mira seated firmly above her face, thighs clamped tightly around Rumi’s throat. Not enough to cut off air, but enough to hold her in place.
Enough to say ‘don’t move unless I say so.’
And god, that power—it wasn’t lost on Mira.
Her thighs flexed around Rumi’s neck, and it hit her just how… compromising this position was.
She was on top, in control, but also exposed. Vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to being. She could feel Rumi’s breath against her skin, could feel Rumi’s hands on her thighs—not pushing, not fighting, just holding. Steadying. Like she wanted to stay right there.
“I mean, honestly,” she panted, voice smug. “For someone who runs her mouth so much, you’re really easy to pin.”
Rumi blinked up at her, half-lidded, flushed, the line of her throat moving under Mira’s grip. Her hands weren’t resisting anymore. They were cradling. Like she wasn’t trying to escape—like she was grateful to be here.
And that look in her eyes…
It almost made Mira forget who had who.
Rumi’s breath hitched, the scent of Mira, the heat, the sheer proximity clouding her head. Her cheeks were flushed, her neck hot, ears burning. Mira wasn’t even pressing that hard but it didn’t matter.
It was everything else, the position, the voice, the way Mira looked down at her like she already knew the ending—that made Rumi feel like she was crumbling from the inside out.
Her smirk faltered—just for a second.
She lifted her chin up, letting Mira’s thighs completely cage around her neck. “You’re beautiful,” Rumi murmured, barely audible.
Mira cocked an eyebrow, but the heat in her gut betrayed her.
“Shut up and tap out, Rumi,” she said, sitting back fully onto Rumi’s chest, the movement deliberate. Her voice dipped low, thick and sweet like syrup, “Don’t embarrass yourself any more than you already have, my love.”
And fuck—Rumi felt it. In her gut. In her spine.
It made her feel owned. Wanted. Like Mira wasn’t just winning—she was claiming.
Her body stilled beneath her, breath shuddering out, something shameful and hungry curling tight in her belly.
Mira knew what she was doing. Knew exactly how to hit Rumi where she’d break. She could feel her body reacting, submitting.
But Rumi wasn’t done.
Not yet.
Her jaw locked, gaze sharp again through the fog. Mira felt the shift, felt the tension under her thighs. She’s close. She’s cracking.
Mira’s smirk spread, wide and full of promise.
So close.
But then—Rumi’s hands squeezed her thighs. Not to fight. To feel.
She felt so good.
“We should really try face-sitting,” Rumi murmured, voice velvet-dark, her gaze locked on the center of Mira’s heat before trailing lazily to the inside of her thigh. Her breath was hot—too hot—and when her lips brushed against Mira’s skin, she pressed a kiss so soft it made Mira’s stomach coil like a live wire. “You and Zoey on my face would be really nice.”
Mira’s breath caught. Her muscles tensed.
Then she saw it, that familiar flicker of gold in Rumi’s eye, pupils dilated, drool at the corner of her mouth as her mouth lowered revealing sharp, gleaming fangs.
Mira gasped.
“Wait—Rumi—” she started to pull back, body jolting with instinct.
Rumi surged forward, but Mira was already moving, twisting just enough to tear herself out of reach. She slammed her back to the floor with a choked breath, dazed and panting, the adrenaline lighting her nerves like fire.
Mira knew what was coming—knew what it did to her. The daze. The dizziness. The bond tightening like a vice. One bite and her body would stop listening to her.
She got on her fours, trying to push herself up but socks and hardwood didn’t go together like white on rice.
She slipped, hitting the floor with a hiss before she pulled herself back up
But Rumi wasn’t letting Mira get away that easily.
Mira had barely gotten one leg up when Rumi reached out—lightning-quick—and grabbed her ankle.
Mira yelped, falling back down, but Rumi only grinned.
Her grip was firm. Inevitable.
With one brutal pull, she dragged Mira toward her, the slick of her thighs catching against the floor.
Then—
Mira barely had time to scream.
Rumi crawled over her body, pressing her face into her neck and sinking her fangs into the soft skin.
The bite seared through her like lightning, stealing her breath, muscles locking, back arching violently as her brain white-noised.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Everytime, that bite was powerful, leaves her dizzy and disoriented.
That same pleasure-laced pain rushing your limbs, disarming you slowly, coiling behind your eyes like smoke.
Mira’s ears filled with a low, thick buzz—like being submerged underwater with her own pulse pounding in stereo.
The world tilted, her vision swimming, smeared at the edges like wet paint.
She could feel everything—every flicker of Rumi’s breath, every slight shift in pressure—but it was disorienting. Her body was hypersensitive, nerves strung up and burning, while her mind reeled and blurred.
Her limbs grew heavy—not limp, but delayed, as if her bones were no longer fully hers.
“R-Rumi—” she gasped, but it came out slurred, her voice thick and shaky. “Y—You little sh..”
Rumi had long since moved from the position on top of Mira. Now, she was repositioning Mira—hands firm on her body, turning her over with an eerie ease.
Mira let out a startled whimper as her chest was pressed into the cold floor, the shock of it blooming across her ribs. Her cheek dragged against the smooth surface, smeared with warmth and sweat.
One of her arms was wrenched behind her back, held firm in Rumi’s grip, while the other rested aimlessly next to her. Her hips were lifted—pulled up and cradled, high and exposed.
Pinned.
The sound that spilled from her wasn’t quite a protest. It was too breathless, too wrecked—more sensation than language. Her body trembled, overstimulated, the venom still humming beneath her skin like static.
Everything felt tight—too tight. Her chest. Her thighs. Her core, pulsing with heat that wasn’t going away.
And Rumi… Rumi crouched over her now like a shadow made of hunger, gaze molten as she looked down at her prize. Her hands skimmed along Mira’s back, fingers dancing down the knobs of her spine with maddening slowness. Then lower, lower—until they landed on Mira’s waist, possessive.
Her nails pressed in, sharp crescents of warning.
A reminder.
Who has you now?
“All that fight’s gone,” Rumi murmured, voice thick with hunger and heady triumph. “I won, Mira.”
Mira’s lashes fluttered. Her breathing was shallow. Heat coiled inside her, deeper than before—laced with something sharp and animal and needy. But her heart, defiant and proud, beat on.
She twisted her head to the side, cheek still pressed to the ground, eyes meeting Rumi’s with effort. Her voice scraped out low, thick with venom of its own.
“N—No,” she panted. “I’m still… not...”
Her breath hitched again as Rumi’s fingers flexed against her hips, nails digging in deeper.
But Mira didn’t flinch.
Even pinned. Even claimed.
She was still Mira.
“You’re still fighting me?” Rumi whispered, breath hot against the back of Mira’s neck. Her lips brushed skin, sending goosebumps racing down Mira’s spine. “Even like this?”
Mira’s breath stuttered, but her smirk was audible in her voice. “Especially like this.”
Rumi exhaled hard—frustrated, aroused.
God, this woman was infuriating.
She started arguments and refused to concede them even when it’s in her best interest.
Even with her face to the floor, her muscles trembling from, her body pliant and exposed—Mira still held onto something untouchable.
Rumi leaned in again, letting her breath ghost just behind Mira’s ear. “You really don’t know when to let it go, do you?”
Her fingers slipped lower—slow and deliberate—and pressed between Mira’s thighs.
Right over the damp fabric of her shorts.
Mira gasped, her whole body flinching, hips jerking up against Rumi’s touch before she could stop herself. A traitorous reaction. One she immediately hated. But Rumi didn’t let up—she only smiled, sharp and knowing, and pressed her down harder, grinding her thumb in slow, devastating circles.
She let out a moan—warm, soft, involuntary. Her eyelids squeezed shut. Her cheek dragged against the floor as her breath came hot and uneven, teeth clenching as her limbs trembled beneath her.
“You are embarrassingly wet,” Rumi whispered, voice thick with heat. “I can feel it through your shorts, Mira.”
The words made something in Mira’s stomach twist painfully. Not with shame—but with rage.
With heat.With defiance that hadn’t burned out yet.
That untouchable fight.
Mira sucked in a sharp breath, chest lifting from the floor as her muscles lit back up, nerves reawakening like coiled wire.
The effects of Rumi’s bite were wearing off.
Finally.
Mira’s breath came sharp and fast, vision still hazy at the edges, but sharpening just enough to catch the subtle shift in Rumi’s face as she twisted her head to look behind her—the cocky satisfaction of thinking Mira was still weak. Still high off venom. Still beat.
She wasn’t.
Her eyes snapped open—glassier than usual, but lit with that unmistakable fire. Dangerous. Focused.
Rumi paused.
Too long.
Mira dropped her hips to the floor, sudden and sharp—a fake-out. A feint.
And Rumi fell for it.
In a violent twist, Mira rotated her lower body enough to slam her knee into Rumi’s side—just under the ribs.
Rumi let out a barked gasp, more shock than pain, her body lurching sideways.
“Fuck—!”
Mira didn’t wait. She surged upward, teeth bared, dizzy but focused. Her body screamed at her, still sore, still overstimulated—but she didn’t care.
Adrenaline was singing in her veins now. Her hair clung to her damp forehead, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Her breathing was still ragged—fast and uneven—but her limbs obeyed her again.
She wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.
Rumi groaned, sitting up against the wall, a hand pressed to her side. Her eyes were wide now—stunned and impressed and undeniably turned on.
Mira’s strength wasn’t supposed to come back this fast.
But of course it had.
Because who was Mira to stay down? She never gave up, now when she was pinned, not when she’s immobilized. Not when her body had been trembling and soaked and on the verge of breaking.
It was infuriating. Impossible.
And so fucking hot.
Rumi’s breath hitched when Mira closed the distance again—slow this time, deliberate. Like a predator circling back after faking weakness. Her hands moved between Rumi’s legs, keeping her hands on her knees.
She leaned in, palms gliding slow over Rumi’s thighs—nails dragging just enough to make the muscles tense beneath her touch. She could feel the shudder running through Rumi’s body, could feel the fight still coiled tight in her frame, and it only made her grin.
One hand slipped to the hem of Rumi’s shorts.
She dragged them down, slow and purposeful, like unwrapping a gift she already owned. As the fabric tugged over her hips, a string of slick pre-cum clung from the inside of her boxers, shining in the low light.
Mira bit her lip, trying—failing—not to laugh. She tilted her head, eyes full of mischief.
“Weren’t you just making jokes about me being wet?” she murmured, her voice warm and mean and sweet all at once. “And here you are, leaking like this?”
Her voice dipped as she added, “You’re such a pervert, Rumi. What a mess.”
Rumi’s body flinched like she’d been struck, cock jumping from Mira’s words. “Mira, come on, don’t—don’t say it like that,”
“Why not?” Mira giggled, hand curling around the length of her. “I think our friend here likes it.” She teased while she tightened her grip , slow and deliberately pressing her thumb against the head in a way that made Rumi’s hips stutter.
That gorgeous mauve colored tip, flushed and sensitive, looked obscene against her palm, soaked and twitching.
Mira’s grin widened. “You’re so dramatic,” she teased, thumb sliding through the pre-cum like she was testing the consistency of syrup. “And so fucking easy.”
She leaned forward, eyes still locked to Rumi’s.
Then Mira leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss right about Rumi’s pelvis, just above where should be a bush but is a flat plain. (Rumi fully shaves, zoey trims, and miras between bush and shaved idc)
The marks nearest to Rumi’s lower stomach and ribs flared—a sudden, electric burst of gold and hot pink crawling up her skin in jagged streaks. Like the heat inside her had nowhere else to go.
“Oh, look at you,” Mira whispered, almost tender. “Glowing for me.”
Rumi didn’t respond, couldnt. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but all that escaped was a shaky exhale and a twitch of her thighs.
Because it wasn’t just arousal now.
There was something else there, something way deeper.
Mira looking up at her like that—confident and hungry and hers—it short-circuited Rumi’s brain.
Her marks pulsed like an exposed nerve, like they felt her want and tried to scream it out loud for her.
And Mira saw it.
She moved lower, lips brushing the base of Rumi’s cock with reverence that only made the tease more painful.
Rumi’s breath hitched—caught somewhere between a whimper and a moan.
Then she flicked her tongue out once, slow and cruel. Then again, circling the tip before she finally wrapped her mouth around it and sucked. Not deep, not fast—just enough. Enough to make Rumi’s whole body lock up and twitch beneath her.
Rumi let out a strangled, wrecked noise. “F-Fuck, Mira—come on—!”
Her hands dove into Mira’s hair, clutching, desperate. Her hips jerked once, involuntarily, and Mira made a sound deep in her throat—mocking approval, like she was encouraging her.
She pulled off with a pop, grinning, saliva-slick lips glinting.
“Already begging?” she asked, smug. “Thought you liked being in charge, you know? Being a winner.”
That did it.
Something detonated under Rumi’s skin.
The shift was instant—violent. Heat surged through her veins like wildfire, the marks beneath her ribs flaring bright gold, casting a glow through the seams of her control. Whatever softness had lingered in her—gone.
The part of her that wanted to take her time? Dead.
She lunged.
Mira barely blinked before Rumi grabbed one of Mira’s pigtails and yanked her head back, sharp and unrelenting. She gasped, lips parted—and that was all Rumi needed.
“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Rumi growled, dragging her in until their foreheads nearly touched. “And all you do is run it. Get me riled up just to sit there and gloat?”
There was no patience in her now.
She released Mira’s hair only to seize her upper arm and haul her upright. Mira stumbled, unsteady—then was shoved, hard, over the back of the couch. Her palms hit the cushions, body folding, spine arching.
She grunted at the force of it, mind still catching up.
She tried to rise, twisting beneath Rumi—but a firm hand slammed between her shoulder blades, locking her down.
“Rumi—”
“You’re done calling the shots,” Rumi muttered, voice low and edged with something far too calm to be safe. “You’ve had your fun, now keep still and do what I say.”
Mira pushed her hips back, bracing to fight—but Rumi was already yanking her shorts down in one clean motion. Cold air kissed soaked fabric and Mira hissed, jaw clenching, refusing to make a sound.
Instinct kicked in—she lashed out with a foot, more reaction than plan.
Bad choice.
Rumi caught her mid-kick, yanked her upright with brutal precision, one arm banded tight around her chest—the other on her waist to lock her in place.
Then—pain.
Rumi’s mouth sank into Mira’s neck, again, fangs buried deep.
Mira choked on her own breath.
The burn wasn’t pain—it was overload. A surge of heat, of power, of something ancient and possessive pouring straight into her bloodstream. Her knees buckled. Her thoughts scattered.
Words tried to form but came out as breathy whimpers, moans that slipped past her lips before she could catch them. She could hear the sound of her blood sliding down Rumi’s neck as she sucked.
Rumi pulled away, fangs retreating from her skin and back into Rumi’s mouth.
And then—warmth.
Rumi’s tongue, smoothing over the bite, providing a warm, gentle feeling that eased over the pain.
“Shh,” Rumi whispered against her skin. “You’ve done enough for one day. I don’t want to hear anything else but a moan from you.
Mira slumped against the couch as Rumi dropped her, shoulders heaving, breath fractured and uneven. Her body trembled just trying to hold her hips up, every muscle pulled taut, straining with the effort.
She wasn’t used to this.Not to being unraveled.Not to losing.
Definitely not like this.
But Rumi wasn’t just being rough. She wasn’t just dominant.
She was guiding in a way that undid Mira completely.
It wasn’t about force—it was about knowing, about containing her.
That impossible blend of control and care, like Rumi knew exactly how to handle her, how to touch her, how to discipline her without ever raising her voice or using brute methods.
It was like she saw straight through Mira’s sharp edges and met them with something even sharper—authority. Not the fake kind. Not bluster or posturing. The real thing.
And that—That scared Mira more than anything.Because it made her want to be good.
It made her want to just lay down and take whatever Rumi gave her without a quip.
But Rumi wasn’t slowing down.
Her hands slid Mira’s soaked panties aside, fingers grazing over heat and slickness with deliberate, devastating slowness. Mira shuddered, a wrecked moan cracking from her throat before she could bite it back.
“That’s better,” Rumi murmured, almost approving, her tone maddeningly steady. Her fingers ghosted over Mira’s folds, feather-light, never giving her what she wanted. “Would rather hear those moans than your constant gloating.”
Mira bit her lip hard, jaw clenched in defiance—but her hips bucked without her permission, chasing touch, desperate for more.
Rumi grinned behind Mira.
She let her fingers part Mira just enough to feel how soaked she was, then dragged them down her thigh—leaving a slick, shining trail like a signature. “You’re soaked, Mira,” she said, voice velvet over steel. “And I’m not even inside you yet. I’ve barely touched you.”
A high, helpless whine escaped Mira as her body arched, shoulders curling forward. The emptiness inside her ached. Her body was screaming for it—for her.
Rumi moved closer behind her, heat rolling off her in waves. Mira felt the press of Rumi’s cock brush along her thigh and her breath caught—sharp and desperate.
She barely had time to process it before Rumi leaned forward, fingers slipping into Mira’s hair. One by one, she tugged the ties from her pigtails until Mira’s hair fell loose around her shoulders. Then her hand twisted in it, slow and possessive, tugging Mira’s head back to expose her throat.
Mira gasped, lips parting in shock and something else she couldn’t name.
“Stay just like this, Mir,” Rumi whispered at her ear, voice molten, anchored in total control. “Do not move.”
And Mira didn’t.
Not because she couldn’t.But because if she moved, she might break the spell.
Because this—this precise pressure of Rumi’s cock at her entrance, thick and pulsing and ready—was so perfect, so unbearably good, that moving might shatter her entirely.
She was soaked, open and aching, so ready to be filled.
She knew Rumi would slide in effortlessly, claim every inch of her in a single, perfect thrust.
Please.Oh my god, please, Rumi—
Rumi pressed forward.
Inch by inch, she sank into her.
Mira cried out—a broken, strangled sound—her eyes fluttering shut as her body clenched down hard, greedy, pulling Rumi deeper with every helpless contraction.
It was like her body had been waiting for this. Like it had been made to be filled exactly like this.
Her pride cracked beneath the weight of it—shattered somewhere between the searing stretch and the dizzying fullness, between the ache and the pleasure, between wanting to fight and needing to stay caged in her arms.
“There you go,” Rumi murmured behind her, voice calm, almost gentle—except for how sure it was. One hand came up to Mira’s throat. Not squeezing. Just… holding. Anchoring her. Making escape impossible. “That’s what you needed, huh? Not control. Just me. Right here.”
Mira’s whole body clenched at that. Heat pooled low in her stomach, molten and overwhelming, rushing through her like lava with nowhere to go. It wasn’t just arousal—it was something more primal. Something that reached into the rawest part of her and gripped.
The way Rumi’s voice melted into her bones like a command she didn’t know how to resist.
She was going crazy.
I’m not supposed to feel like this.She was the one who didn’t bend. The one who talked back, pushed first, kept her guard sharp and her walls higher. The one who didn’t need anyone.
I’m not supposed to lose.Losing meant being weak. It meant giving someone else control, and Mira had spent too many years clawing her way out of that helplessness to ever want to taste it again.
Even then, it wasn’t like Mira didn’t like being dominant, even in a non sexual aspect—the idea of someone seeking her out for her skills was good to her. She liked when people leaned on her, for anything.
She is their dominant choice, the one who was best equipped.
And yet here she was—trembling, soaked, gasping under the weight of Rumi’s body. And it didn’t feel like weakness.
It felt right.
It felt safe.
It felt like someone finally knew what to do with all of her chaos. Like someone saw the mess and didn’t flinch—tamed it. They held it and owned it.
Is that why it feels so good to lose to her?
And honest to god, right now, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Mira couldn’t tell if she was about to come or cry right now.
Because every drag of Rumi’s cock against her walls was devastating, dizzying. It didn’t feel physical anymore—it felt like Rumi was inside her soul, reaching deeper than anyone had ever dared.
Her fingers scrambled against the couch cushions, trying to ground herself, but her body wasn’t hers anymore. Not fully. The effects of Rumi’s bite had kept things dulled, muffled—like the edge of everything good had been wrapped in cotton. But now?
The effects of that bite had dulled things before—softened the edges like cotton wrapped around fire. But now?
Now the dam had split wide open.
And it was rushing in, all at once.
The pleasure slammed into her—through her—like her body had finally caught up to the hunger, the stretch, the want that had been building.
She gasped—a breathless, cracked thing—and then sobbed out a sound that didn’t even resemble a word. Her hips jerked back on instinct, chasing more, while her thighs trembled and her vision blurred.
“Oh—R-Rumi, I—f-fuck—”
The words barely made it out, swallowed by the way her breath kept catching, body arching into every thrust like it was a prayer answered. Her thighs trembled, jaw slack, eyes fluttering back into her head as Rumi pulled her deeper into that unraveling.
Her voice broke apart on the syllables. Her body was all reaction now—arching into each thrust like it was the only thing keeping her heart beating.
And behind her, Rumi was watching. God, she thought, nearly drunk off the sight. She’s never looked like this. Never let anyone see her like this.
Mira, undone.Mira, hers.
She tightened her grip on Mira’s hips, reverent, grounding her in place as she thrust deeper. Each movement a claim, each press of her hips another reminder: This is mine.
Her Mira. Her fucking storm.
“You gotta let me pull out, Mir,” Rumi murmured, voice dark with warmth and teasing heat. “You’re squeezing me like you don’t want me to go. Do you want me to come inside?”
God, no.
Absolutely not.
But fuck, if Rumi’s cock didn’t feel like heaven dragging along her like that.
No. The breezy, gentle feeling life was awarding her felt way better than this.
So, she nodded, frantic, head tossed back, mouth open in a silent plea. “Yes… Mmmf, yes… Fuck.. Please.. Yes.”
Mm.
Mira moaned—felt more than answered—her body clenching down even tighter like it was trying to keep her there forever. But Rumi stilled and gently, she pulled out.
Mira’s body lurched—like something vital had been ripped from her. Her back snapped upright so fast it looked like she’d been yanked by a string. “No—no, Rumi, wait—what are you doing—I’m sorry!” Her voice cracked, unraveling with panic.
But Rumi was already moving. “Hush, Mira.”
“Rumi! Please! I’m—I’ll be good, don’t tease me, please.” Mira whined, barely able to lift herself from the couch.
Rumi ignored her, shrugging off her hoodie and lying it on the floor, turning to Mira and lifting herself in one clean motion—cradled her like something precious, even as her legs were still trembling.
“C’mere.” She said, picking Mira up and lowering her onto the hoodie, pressing her to the floor with a kind of gentleness that broke through the chaos like a blade through fog.
“I just wanted to see you,” she whispered, lips brushing Mira’s. “All of you.” Mira’s chest rose and fell before she shrugged her tank off, and grabbed the hem of Rumi’s too.
They let out a gentle giggle when the shirt caught on one of Rumi’s ear piercings.
Rumi leaned down, pressing their breasts together as their foreheads, breath mingled. Mira’s pulse raced, her heart stuttering like it didn’t know how to beat in this new atmosphere. Her legs locked around Rumi’s waist, clinging to her.
“Rumi…” she whispered, her voice full of need and confusion and something terrifyingly close to surrender.
“Mira..” Rumi whispered back, her eyes holding Mira’s as she sank back into her.
Mira gasped, the stretch slamming back into her like a tidal wave. Her head fell to the floor with a soft thud, tears springing instantly to her eyes. The new angle was devastating. Deeper.
It felt way more intimate. Like Rumi could reach parts of her no one had touched.
She didn’t even try to speak this time. Her moans turned into hiccupped sobs, her hands clawing weakly at Rumi’s shoulders, like the pleasure was too much now. Like it was pouring out of her faster than she could handle.
She felt Rumi’s cock slightly graze her cervix and her entire body trembled all she could do was hold on.
And Rumi held her—steady, sure—thrusting into her like she had all the time in the world, like Mira wasn’t falling apart in her arms.
“Look at me,” Rumi whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to Mira’s lips.
Mira shook her head—not from refusal, but sheer overload. Her eyes wouldn’t focus and it was easier to keep them closed. Her mind was gone. Her body was already somewhere far away, teetering on a ledge she wasn’t sure she could come back from.
“I—I can’t—it’s too—it’s—” she tried, the words crumbling in her throat. There was no room for language here. Only sensation. Only need.
The pressure lit her nerves on fire. She felt everything—every inch of Rumi inside her, the shape, the depth, the truth of it. It was too much. Her whole body locked up, spasming violently, her hands flailing against Rumi’s back as if she could claw herself free of the pleasure.
Rumi kept her pinned—cock moving, hips rolling, hand holding her down right at that spot where she could feel the deepest part of her being filled.
Her stomach.
Rumi’s hand pressed against Mira’s stomach, feeling the warmth of her own cock dragging in and out of Mira.
Mira gasped, cried out, her voice wrecked.
“R-Rumi—fuck—I can’t—” She didn’t even recognize her own voice anymore.
Her legs shook violently. Her back arched. She couldn’t stop it.
Then—
That pressure. Low. Heavy, burning in her gut. A sharp of sense flickered through the haze. Her hand shot down between them, trying to push Rumi’s palm away, eyes wide with sudden alarm.
“Rumi—wait—!”
But Rumi only showed a wicked grin. “Oh, so now she opens those pretty eyes?”
Mira sobbed, voice cracked with heat and desperation. “Rumi—I don’t—something’s happening—please—”
And Rumi leaned in, lips brushing her ear, her voice smooth and low and cruelly tender.
“If you won’t look at me,” she whispered, “then you can feel me, Mira.” Her hand pressed firmer against Mira’s stomach. “Feel it. Feel how deep I am. Pay attention.”
Mira’s head lolled to the side, and with a sob, as Rumi thrust up into her again, slow but deep, her hand slid from Mira’s stomach to between her legs, giving her clit circular motions.
“I know you’re close,” she murmured, a flicker of pride beneath the roughness. “Let it out, Mira. I got you.”
Mira’s lips parted in a broken moan, tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. She wasn’t just losing it—she was unraveling, being undone cell by cell.
She could feel everything. Rumi’s cock dragging deep, stretching her open and grazing every aching spot inside her like it knew her. And her hand—broad, firm—was still pressing down into her lower belly, anchoring her to the moment, making Mira feel it all.
Mira’s breath hitched violently.
“I’m—Rumi—oh my god, I’m—!”
She screamed as she came, her body seizing, wetness gushing between them. Her thighs jerked, her nails clawing at Rumi’s back like she was trying to stay tethered to something real, something solid, in a world that had suddenly dropped out from under her.
“Fuck—” Rumi gasped, eyes wide with awe, watching Mira completely shatter beneath her.
The floor and Rumi’s hoodie underneath were soaked—obscene, slick, and shameless. Rumi didn’t move, didn’t thrust—just held Mira through it. Her fingers kept moving gently over her clit, her cock still buried to the hilt, and her forehead pressed to Mira’s as the waves kept crashing through her.
Mira was gone. Legs trembling, jaw slack, chest stuttering in shallow, gasping breaths. She blinked up at Rumi like she couldn’t even see her—dazed, wrecked, overwhelmed.
“…that’s it,” Rumi whispered, kissing her temple, gentle and proud. “That’s my girl.”
A sound escaped Mira’s throat—half sob, half laugh—and she buried her face into Rumi’s neck, shaking. She was still pulsing around her, too raw to speak, too full to think.
Rumi rubbed slow circles into her hips, patient, steady, letting her fall apart safely.
“Didn’t know you had that in you,” she said quietly, voice hushed with something tender.
Mira mumbled something against her throat—unintelligible.
Rumi smiled, kissed her jaw. “What was that?”
No response.
Just a tighter grip, arms wrapped around Rumi like she was all Mira had left to hold onto.
Because Mira couldn’t speak.
She didn’t really want to—this feeling was nice.
Nerves still buzzing, body twitching, aftershocks still chasing each other through her like she was being lit from the inside.
And at the center of it all—Rumi. Inside her. Around her. Warm and steady like a heartbeat Mira didn’t know she’d needed.
She just wanted to feel this—true surrender. No defenses. No games. Just the heat of Rumi’s body wrapped around her own, anchoring her to the moment.
Rumi’s palm slid gently up her side, a slow, grounding touch. “You still with me?”
Mira pressed her lips into the crook of Rumi’s neck, breath shaky. “Mhm…”
“What’s the color of your hair?” Rumi leaned back just enough to catch her face in the dim light.
Rumi almost laughed as Mira nodded. “Mhm.”
She was so out of it.
“Does this mean I won?” Rumi murmured, lips quirking.
Mira gave the smallest huff of breath—too close to a laugh to be anything else. Rumi brushed a hand over her cheek, her thumb catching a tear.
“You’re a mess,” she whispered, voice low with something between pride and awe.
“Your fault,” Mira croaked, trying for bite but barely managing a rasp.
Rumi leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, soft and unhurried. “I’ll make it up to you, soon.”
Those words hit Mira in the chest.
Rumi liked that she got to see this version of her—the one no one else did. And Mira, even in the haze of it all, felt her throat burn with something more than lust.
She’d been stripped down to her rawest self. And Rumi hadn’t run from it. She was holding it. Her.
Still inside. Still warm. Still there.
Mira’s throat tightened, emotion curling hot behind her ribs. She blinked slowly, lips trembling, and clenched weakly around Rumi—just enough to keep her close.
“Don’t…” she whispered, almost afraid the moment would vanish. “Don’t pull out yet.”
Rumi’s smile softened, losing its edge. She leaned in, brushing their noses together. “Wasn’t planning to.”
So they stayed like that, their bodies tangled, breath finding rhythm, the heat between them humming low and steady—while Mira slowly pieced herself back together.
And at the center of every fractured piece… was Rumi.
i used my phone but i do have a laptop, you can just save them from tumblr or pinterest but make sure they play as gifs in your camera roll. also if it doesnt load right away, you might have to reload ur page and itll work
How’d you get a gif for your pfp?? It won’t work for me
err i dont know if this will make sense but when you click the edit button, you can turn the pfp on and off so it doesn’t show when people look at your profile which is what I do and then I make the header a gif!
