I never see anyone on here talk about zoey and her slight lisp like i think it’s the cutest thing ever, like the way she drags her words out, especially the s’s and never finishes the ends of certain words or enunciates them!!1!1!1!?? 😭😭 And I think Mira absolutely adores and teases zoey for it.
cw. toothrotting fluff
Just imagine Zoey sitting on the couch facing Mira while ranting to her about the very obvious differences between a tortoise and turtle. mira’s listening, humming occasionally to let Zoey know while she flicked through her magazine.
“I just think it’s stupid that nobody knows the actual difference between a turtle and a freakin’ tortoise! Especially since they’re so distinguishable.”
“Ssstupid,” Mira echoed, letting the word roll off her tongue the same way Zoey had, her voice teasing but tender. She was already smiling before the word even finished leaving her lips. “You’re so adorable, Zoey. I love you, you know that?”
“What? Hey, are you making fun of me!?” she gasped, her voice rising into a playful whine as red broke out onto her cheeks. She gave Mira a light shove on the shoulder, barely strong enough to move her.
Mira snorted, lean figure not budging an inch. Zoey huffed and stood up dramatically, brushing invisible dust off her legs like she was rising above the slander.
Nooo,” Mira cooed, reaching out and tugging gently at Zoey’s sleeve to keep her from walking away, a wide grin resting lazily on her face. “I’m not making fun. I’m noticing all the cute, unique things about you. Big difference.”
Zoey tried to glare, but her mouth betrayed her—the corners twitching stubbornly upward. “Be quiet, Mira. Read your dumb magazine,” she muttered, flopping down on the couch with a huff. She sat facing the TV, arms crossed tight over her chest, her face still warm.
Mira tossed the magazine aside and scooted closer until she was thigh-to-thigh, stretching her long arm over Zoey’s shoulder to keep her close. “No, no. I want to hear you talk about turtles.”
“Noo, you just want to make fun of me again,” Zoey grumbled, though her voice had softened.
“I never make fun of you, bug” Mira said, pressing a kiss into Zoey’s head. “I just like the way you say ‘ssspecific’ things, like turtle facts.”
Zoey rolled her eyes, even as a smile crept back onto her lips. “You’re the worst.”
“The absolute worst,” Mira agreed sweetly, brushing her nose against Zoey’s cheek. “Now tell me again—what kind of feet do tortoises have? I’m starting to forget.”
Zoey groaned softly, looking away but leaning into Mira’s embrace, defeated but smiling. “Dinosaur legs,” she mumbled.
“And turtles? I thought it was paws but I’m not too sure.”
“What! No, they have little paddly flipper-feet,” she muttered, quieter now.
Mira nuzzled against her. “Mmm. You’re so sexy when you talk turtle to me.”
Zoey snorted and covered her face with both hands. “You’re literally unbearable.”
“Yup. And you love me.”
“…Unfortunately,” Zoey mumbled into her palms, smiling anyway.
“Keep going.”
Zoey’s hands fell from her face and she smiled, gaining back that exuberance she had when talking about things she loved. “Okay, sso…”
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. 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.
summary. there was nothing wrong with asking your bandmates if they had their first kiss right? there was nothing wrong with asking them to be your first kiss because you're all idols whose lives are being surveilled 25/8 by people you've never met and you'll probably never have a genuine relationship, right? well, if you find out, tell zoey.
warnings. polytrix. fluff no smut. "practice kissing". first kisses. intimacy. soft. jealousy. realization of feelings. they all want each other but also don't want them to want each other. idk how to tag nonsmut ffs. someone please make a comic out of this I'll pay you hml.
ao3. pt.2?
zoey sighed, her head resting lightly on mira’s stomach, fingers idly scrolling through her phone. she switched between apps like it was muscle memory. one, two, three minutes passed but nothing held her attention for more than a blink.
bored.
and that was rare for her.
zoey was the kind of person who filled silence without thinking—always humming something under her breath, or tapping words into a note app, or kicking her legs to a rhythm only she could hear. her mind was never quiet. but today?
nothing.
static.
a low, dull buzz of nothingness.
she shifted, face half-buried in mira’s sweatshirt, and lazily tilted her gaze upward. mira was leaned back against the headboard, flipping through a thick, slightly crumpled magazine like it actually interested her. she looked calm. unbothered.
zoey never understood why mira enjoyed them so much, they were glorified comic books for rich people who had nothing else to spend money on. then again, with the kind of rich mira came from, it made perfect sense.
zoey blinked, slow and heavy-lidded.
mira had one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched beneath zoey like a pillow made of girl. her mouth was slightly parted, brows drawn just the tiniest bit as she read. like whatever she was looking at needed deciphering.
it wasn’t fair how pretty she was when she wasn’t trying to be.
and maybe zoey should’ve looked away. maybe she should’ve gone back to scrolling through pointless posts or texts she didn’t want to answer. but she didn’t.
she let her eyes drift.
up the slope of mira’s neck. across the soft edge of her jaw. over lips that looked like they’d be plush if pressed against something—someone.
zoey blinked again, slower this time.
still bored.
but now for a very different reason.
zoey’s gaze wandered the other way, falling lazily on rumi, who was sprawled on her stomach by the foot of the bed, laptop in front of her, one headphone in, the other discarded and tangled in the blankets.
her fingers tapped rhythmically along the keys, building something—beats, probably—while her socked feet kicked in the air, ankles crossing and uncrossing.
and then zoey blinked.
because rumi’s side profile was just—fuck. kinda ridiculous.
the bridge of her nose was dipped nicely, lips full and glossed, catching the soft light from the screen. her cheekbones did this thing—sloped and sharp, like they were sculpted instead of born.
zoey’s eyes dropped to her mouth.
glossy. soft. pink.
god. she had nice lips.
she didn’t even mean to look that long, really. just… noticed.
then her head rolled the other direction again, lazily, like a cat switching sides in a sunbeam. back to mira.
and—yeah. damn.
mira’s lashes curled naturally, thick and dark, like she’d stepped out of a commercial. her brows were sharp, neat—intentional. the kind of face that always looked good in photos even when she didn’t try. the kind that held focus even in silence. zoey didn’t know how that was possible.
her gaze dropped again.
mira’s mouth.
soft. plump. a little pink, glossed from that stupid overpriced balm she always carried but never shared.
and—
huh.
“hey,” zoey murmured, her voice cutting softly through the silence like a thread pulled loose. “have either of you ever had your first kiss?”
her voice was soft—softer than necessary—but it landed like a dropped pin, pulling their attention without force.
mira looked up first, lowering her magazine a few inches, eyes narrowed in mild curiosity. rumi glanced over her shoulder, dragging one earbud free as the beat from her laptop dimmed into silence.
“…what?” mira asked, suspicion threaded through the calm of her voice. wary, amused, guarded.
“where did that come from?” rumi frowned, pushing up from her stomach into a cross-legged sprawl, turning to face them fully now. the shift felt deliberate. focused.
zoey shrugged. too casual. too light. the kind of casual that meant she wasn’t actually being casual at all. “i dunno. i was just thinking about it. you both haven’t, right?”
neither of them answered.
mira’s cheeks turned the softest pink. barely there, but zoey saw it. rumi just rolled her eyes—but said nothing.
zoey’s grin stretched. slow. wicked. “you haven’t! oh my god, that’s so cute.”
“okay, and?” mira muttered, the edge in her voice too sharp for someone unbothered. “why are you saying that like you’ve had your first kiss?”
that made zoey falter.
her smile dimmed. her gaze slid away as she sighed, pressing her lips together. her shoulders rose a little, like maybe she didn’t expect to be asked that part.
rumi narrowed her eyes. mira tossed the magazine aside completely, the glossy pages sliding off her thigh with a soft thwack.
“wait—have you?” mira asked, leaning in, some weird heat rising in her chest that she didn’t want to name.
zoey hesitated, then made a face. “i mean… it was just a peck. in middle school. i don’t count it.”
rumi blinked. “then you haven’t had one either.”
“not really, no.”
the air in the room thickened. denser somehow. warmer.
zoey shifted, sitting up a little straighter, propping herself on one arm. her fingers brushed lightly against mira’s thigh, and that one little touch felt louder than it should have.
her eyes moved between them. careful. curious. a little reckless.
“…maybe we should all just kiss,” zoey said suddenly, the words slipping out faster than she meant them to.
mira’s breath caught. “what?”
rumi stilled, blinking slowly.
zoey shifted, shrugging one shoulder like it wasn’t that deep. “i’m just saying. we’re idols. it’s not like we’re gonna be able to date anytime soon. we don’t have any privacy, fans would riot, and if we so much as breathe near another trainee we’re already trending by morning and being called every misogynistic slur imaginable.”
her tone was light, casual, but her throat was dry.
“so like… why can’t we just kiss each other now and get it over with?” she bit the inside of her cheek. “for practice. it’s not weird or anything—we’re not into girls or each other or… whatever.”
lie.
that one dropped hard and fast, and it echoed through her ribs like a cracked bell.
she was into girls. she knew that now. had probably known it for a while, but it hadn’t felt real until lately—until mira started wearing that lip gloss that made zoey’s stomach twist, or rumi started mumbling lyrics in that low, scratchy voice that settled somewhere between her thighs and refused to leave.
until they both started making her feel like she was too warm in her own skin. like she couldn’t sit still. like maybe she already knew what she wanted and was too scared to ask for it.
but saying all that aloud?
no. not here. not now.
not if she wanted to keep what they had.
so instead, she smiled—thin, crooked, too sharp around the edges—and said, “it’s just lips, right? like brushing teeth. we kiss each other and don’t die without knowing what it feels like. boom. problem solved.”
she hoped the joke masked the way her heart was pounding.
rumi shifted slightly, resting her hands in her lap. her eyes were darker now, unreadable.
“you’re serious?” she asked, voice quieter this time. almost careful.
zoey nodded. “dead serious.”
she looked from rumi to mira—who still hadn’t moved. mira’s lips parted slightly, like she was about to speak but didn’t know how to start.
then, slowly, mira tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned forward, eyes flicking toward rumi like she was checking for permission.
“i mean…” mira murmured, voice low. “if we’re all okay with it…”
rumi gave a single, slow nod. “you do make a good point, with the whole idol stuff.”
“mhm.” mira nodded in agreement.
zoey’s breath hitched. “yeah.”
there was a pause—thick and trembling—like the air itself was holding its breath. like the three of them were standing on the edge of something unspoken, unnamed, and irreversible.
“okay.” zoey let out in a whisper, barely audibly before she moved, drawing her knees beneath her and swinging one leg over mira’s lap, settling against her thighs with a kind of quiet finality.
the space between them vanished. mira’s breath hitched. “oh, we’re going all in?” she murmured, not really asking—more like confessing. her hands rose instinctively to zoey’s hips, fingers curling there like muscle memory—like they belonged. but this time, they gripped just a little tighter.
mira could feel her body shaking, adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she didn’t know why—why she was freaking out like this. she’d had zoey in her lap before—hell, she’d cradled her during movie nights, felt her limbs tangle lazily around her like vines. but this? this was different.
zoey was close now. too close.
mira could smell the sweetness on her breath—vanilla, strawberry, that cake pop she’d been slowly working on earlier like it was a secret. the scent was warm and sugary, clinging to zoey’s skin, sticky in mira’s lungs.
but this felt different. this was different.
somewhere beside them, rumi shifted closer, barely a whisper on the bed, the brush of her knee near mira’s thigh. but mira’s world narrowed. her vision tunneled, locked on zoey’s face—on the freckle near her left eye, the nervous twitch of her mouth, the way her gaze kept flicking between mira’s lips and her eyes.
“all in,” zoey whispered.
and then she leaned in.
their lips met—just barely at first. a whisper, not a declaration. careful, almost reverent. like a secret being passed mouth to mouth.
then mira kissed her back.
just enough pressure to answer. to say yes please.
their mouths found rhythm, parting slightly, tugging gently, testing unfamiliar shapes. it wasn’t messy. it wasn’t rushed. it was slow and heated, like warm honey on the tongue. the kind of kiss that left no room for pretending.
zoey felt herself melt into it. into mira.
her hands slid up mira’s arms, brushing along the soft dip of her collarbone before rising to cup her face—fingers slipping behind her ears, thumbs skimming over flushed skin like she’d dreamed of doing it for weeks.
well.
mira’s lips were plush, a little slick with gloss, and every time they moved against hers, zoey’s pulse fluttered like wings against her ribs. the kiss wasn’t deep, but it lingered. it burned slow.
mira’s eyes fluttered shut. her lips parted on a quiet breath.
zoey didn’t pull away.
neither of them did.
rumi watched.
she hadn’t meant to—not with so much intensity at least. she really hadn’t. but the moment had pulled her in, planted her like a statue beside them.
she swallowed hard.
there was something about the way they moved—how zoey tilted mira’s chin up just slightly, how mira’s hand pressed insistently into zoey’s lower back, forcing her stomach to press closer, as if her body didn’t belong anywhere else. it looked practiced, but she knew it wasn’t.
it was real.
and that did something to her. twisted something in her stomach she didn’t have a name for.
she wanted it. not just the kiss—them. both of them. she wanted to be in it, to be part of it. and for a second, just a second, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be mira or have her.
it was confusing. maddening.
she’d come closer just to get a better look before it was her turn, they’d do a soft kiss and it’d be rumi’s turn, simple. a group decision. equal footing. three friends, three kisses, no lines crossed.
but watching them now, it didn’t feel equal.
no. no, it felt like she was witnessing something intimate. something already blooming without her, like there were feelings already there.
and yet—she couldn’t look away.
because it was beautiful. it was soft and tender and aching in all the places she hadn’t let herself feel. the way zoey held mira’s face like she was something precious, the way mira leaned in like she couldn’t help it—it was magnetic. dangerous.
it made rumi ache.
and for the first time, she wondered if she was already too late.
zoey leaned in again—just enough for their noses to brush, for her lips to ghost over mira’s in a second pass. lighter this time. slower. intentional. their mouths barely touched, but mira tilted her chin up like instinct, like she couldn’t wait to meet her there.
rumi’s nails curled into the bedspread.
they fit so well together. the way zoey’s body settled into mira’s like it had always belonged there. the way mira looked at her—like she was seeing her for the first time, and all at once, like she never wanted to stop.
god, rumi thought, jaw tightening as she looked away, just for a breath. just long enough to remember her own lungs.
this wasn’t supposed to feel like this.
and yet it did. more than it should.
mira couldn’t stop thinking about how soft zoey felt. how familiar she was in every way except this. her hands flexed against zoey’s hips, dragging her closer despite the fact that they were already flush—chest to chest, breath to breath.
this new weight in her lap, this warmth between their mouths, this tension zipping down her spine, it felt amazing.
it felt—unfairly—amazing.
when they finally pulled apart, barely an inch, neither spoke.
they just stared.
mira’s hands were still resting on zoey’s hips. zoey’s fingers were curled lightly on mira’s shoulders. both of them were breathing faster than before, lips parted, eyes dazed—like they’d surfaced from underwater.
then zoey glanced down. licked her lips slowly. tasted the gloss mira had left behind.
and turned her head.
her gaze drifted toward rumi.
rumi hadn’t moved. she watched them in silence, eyes dark, half-lidded, lips parted just enough to hint at what she wasn’t saying. her chest rose and fell once, then again—quicker now, measured in shallow bursts.
zoey shifted off mira’s lap, slow and fluid, like she was still floating. mira’s hands fell away from her hips like they’d lost something.
zoey turned fully toward rumi, something teasing at the corners of her lips—but gentler now. her voice was quiet when she spoke.
“your turn.”
the room felt like it dipped in temperature. everything slowed.
rumi didn’t answer. she just opened her arms and zoey didn’t hesitate, crawling into them like gravity pulled her there.
finally.
right where she should be.
rumi’s hands found zoey’s waist, her palms splaying across the dip of her lower back. she didn’t pull her in, not yet. she just held her there, letting the closeness settle.
she leaned in slowly. each inch an invitation. a confession. a prayer.
and then she kissed her.
the second their mouths met, something inside rumi snapped. a rubber band stretched too tight for too long finally giving way. zoey’s lips were soft, parted, almost expecting her. and she tasted exactly how she’d imagined—sweet, cake-sugar and strawberry balm, and something else beneath it, something distinctly zoey.
but also—mira.
a sigh, deep and involuntary, spilled from rumi’s chest. it slipped into zoey’s mouth as she kissed her deeper, as if chasing both girls at once.
they taste so good together.
zoey let out a tiny noise, high and breathy—a helpless whimper that punched through rumi’s stomach and straight between her thighs.
this was supposed to be just practice. just play. just curiosity. just something in case they never retire and never end up in relationships.
but nothing about this felt casual.
rumi’s fingers tightened on zoey’s waist, grounding her, needing her to feel it. she kissed her harder—not rough, but deliberate—until there was no mistaking the message behind it. i want you to know me like this.
and zoey responded.
her hips rolled forward, just a little. unintended. instinctive. like her body had answered before her mind could catch up. another soft sound slipped from her lips—not quite a moan, but close enough to make rumi’s control waver.
she wanted to lose herself. to devour.
but that scared her.
because it wasn’t the kiss that wrecked her most—it was what lay underneath it. the way zoey clung to her without hesitation. the way she leaned in like rumi’s arms were the safest place in the room. the way she gave herself so fully, as if rumi could be trusted to hold her.
this was what she wanted.
not just the kiss—but the closeness.
the way zoey made her feel… wanted. chosen. like the only one.
until—mira.
mira, sitting just feet away. mira, lips still swollen from zoey’s kiss. mira, who had touched zoey first.
rumi had seen the way mira looked at her—at both of them. like they were questions she wanted to answer with her hands. like she couldn’t stop reaching.
and that’s when it hit her—this wasn’t just about zoey.
she wanted mira too.
her anger. her softness. her sharp tongue and the desperate way her fingers dug into sheets when she wanted something.
rumi wanted her. wanted them.
and suddenly—zoey’s kiss wasn’t enough.
rumi broke away, panting. her hand lingered at zoey’s back, thumb brushing the hem of her shirt like she didn’t want to let go. her eyes found mira’s.
and the ache set in. heavy. slow. unbearable.
because she didn’t know who she wanted more.
or worse—if she could have both.
mira wanted to choke.
not just from jealousy. from the need.
from the way zoey folded into rumi’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. like her body already knew the shape of rumi’s. like she’d been made for it.
rumi’s hands held her like possession, not permission. that kiss—intense, reverent, inevitable.
rumi didn’t kiss like she was curious. she kissed like she was claiming. like she’d waited and earned it. like she’d always intended to leave her mark.
and zoey melted into her, the same way she melted into mira. her shoulders slackened, her thighs tensed. that small, wrecked moan from the back of her throat—mira felt it in her teeth.
she didn’t want to watch. but she couldn’t look away.
the way rumi held her. the way her fingers gripped zoey’s waist like she knew exactly what she was doing. like she’d done it before. mira wanted to be the grinding down against rumi, making her stiffen at the sound of her moans. she wanted to feel rumi’s lips on her, just as certain, just as desperate.
she wanted to ruin both of them.
not as friends. not as something halfway. she wanted them whole. selfishly. entirely.
her fists clenched into the bedsheets.
zoey finally eased back into a sitting position, the spell still humming through her. she looked dazed—eyes glazed, lips pink and parted, chest rising and falling a little too quickly.
she ran her fingers through her hair, like she was trying to cool herself down, to keep from floating off the mattress entirely.
her smile was lazy. buzzed. satisfied.
she scooted back to the headboard without a word, breath catching softly in her throat, lips still glistening.
mira couldn’t take it.
watching zoey melt into rumi’s lap like she belonged there, listening to the soft, breathy sounds she made—mira didn’t know if she wanted to cry, scream, or grab her hitachi.
the air crackled.
tension laced every breath, thick as storm clouds.
she’s never wanted two women so bad in her entire life.
mira thought she might scream.
she didn’t know if she wanted to cry, or kiss them, or shove them apart just to feel something shift—it was too much.
mira’s throat felt raw.
and when rumi finally looked at her, eyes still dark and heavy with heat—nothing but straight need in rumi’s gaze.
“come here,” rumi said.
it wasn’t a tease. it was quiet. controlled. but there was no room for confusion.
mira’s heart rattled in her chest.
god, she hated how much she wanted to listen.
hated the heat curling low in her gut. hated that zoey was still watching, probably flushed and dazed and still thinking about her kiss with rumi. hated that rumi kissed zoey like that. that zoey moaned like that.
and that it wasn’t mira who made either of them fall apart first.
but, first doesn’t always mean best.
“you come here,” mira snapped back, voice tight. stubborn. she sat rigid on the bed, arms crossed now like that might protect her from all of it—the longing, the jealousy, the aching need to be enough.
rumi’s brow lifted faintly, like she saw right through the act. she moved slowly, crawling across the bed with the kind of deliberate grace that made mira’s skin hum—measured, electric, inevitable.
mira didn’t move. but her breath started to shake.
when rumi finally reached her and cupped her cheek, there was no hesitation. no gentleness, either.
just need.
her palm was warm, steady—thumb brushing beneath mira’s eye with a reverence that didn’t match the tension snapping between them.
mira didn’t flinch. her jaw clenched, eyes narrowing like she already knew where this was headed—and was going to meet it head on.
then rumi leaned in.
their mouths collided—not soft, not slow.
it was all heat and pressure and bite—like they’d both been starving for this exact moment. like the space between them had been holding back something dangerous.
mira grabbed a fistful of rumi’s shirt, yanking her in. her other hand slid up, fingers threading through the back of rumi’s neck and tightening at the base of her skull, keeping her locked in place.
stay right here, she was saying. this is mine.
rumi made a low sound against her lips, lips parting—and mira took the opening, deepening the kiss with practiced ease. not gently. but with full, unrelenting intent.
but rumi didn’t back down.
she kissed with equal fire, matching mira push for pull, heat for heat. mira could feel it in the shift of her mouth, the angle of her jaw—rumi wasn’t going to roll over easily.
good.
rumi’s hands slid from mira’s waist to her thighs, gripping tight. then she began to guide her down, slow and steady, until mira’s back met the mattress. not forceful. just firm. testing.
mira let her. inch by inch, spine curling down—but all the while, her hand stayed gripped in rumi’s hair. her teeth grazed rumi’s bottom lip, tugged—sharp enough to warn.
you’re on top, but i’m still in control.
and rumi couldn’t help it.
she smirked.
it was faint. barely there. but it held everything.
that dizzy relief of finally tasting something she’d been denying herself for too long. the fierce satisfaction of being wanted—of mira wanting her like this.
she kissed me back.
not just that. mira fought her, kissed like she was proving something. like she wasn’t going to let rumi take the lead without a struggle.
and rumi wanted exactly that.
this wasn’t like kissing zoey—soft, sighing, dreamy.
this was mira. commanding. competitive. dangerous in the best way.
and rumi didn’t realize how badly she’d needed it.
mira treated rumi in a way that was so exclusive and different to the way she treated zoey and it was making her blood buzz.
this was all for her.
even with mira’s hand locked around her neck like a leash, rumi was the one guiding her down. the one watching mira’s lashes flutter, lips parting, as her back met the bed.
it was subtle.
but it was hers.
and rumi couldn’t help but feel a little.. smug about it.
because zoey had seen it all.
because for once, she didn’t feel like the third wheel. not the one they teased, or touched when convenient.
right now, she had mira beneath her.
and zoey—flushed, wide-eyed, lips parted—was still catching her breath from the way rumi had kissed her first.
they’re both mine, rumi thought. her hand slid along mira’s side, grounding herself in the heat.
she had both of them, raw and trembling.
she hovered above mira—kiss-broken, breathless, her lavender hair falling in a curtain around their faces. mira was below her, flushed and dark-eyed, hands still gripping her neck like she didn’t want her to go anywhere.
then mira smiled—sharp, breathless—and pulled her down again.
the next kiss was messier. hotter. all tongue and teeth and tangled breath. mira’s thighs caged rumi’s hips, keeping her locked in. her nails scraped softly down the back of rumi’s neck, and rumi shuddered.
and from across the bed, zoey watched.
frozen. silent.
she didn’t know who she was more jealous of.
or if she just wanted to be between them. kissed like that. held like that.
because this wasn’t a game anymore.
zoey sat up, legs folded under her, fingers slack in her lap. her heart thundered in her chest, mouth dry, cheeks flushed.
she could still feel both their kisses on her lips.
but neither of them had kissed her like this.
there was a twist in her chest. sharp. sour. wanting.
she couldn’t look away.
the way rumi lowered mira. the way mira clung back like she was daring rumi to try again. the smudged gloss, the wet mouths, the silent tension between them.
god, it was so hot.
too hot.
zoey’s thighs pressed together and she didn’t even mean to.
she watched the gleam of their tongue shine every time they slightly pulled away just to dive back in.
my god, they’re using tongue.
fuck.
zoey’s head spun, the throbbing sensation in between her thighs becoming needy and intense but her blood was boiling.
why? she’d started this. she’d said kiss each other. she’d laughed.
practice, she’d said. harmless.
but this?
this wasn’t harmless.
the way rumi shifted her hips. the sound mira made. the look in their eyes.
and the ache in zoey’s chest—that was real, too.
because she wanted to be the one on her back.
she wanted to be the one mira kissed like she meant it.
and that was the real problem.
eventually, rumi pulled back, just a fraction. just enough to breathe. it was all mira needed in her opinion, but she could tell mira wanted to get up.
rumi sighed to herself, sitting back on her knees and mira let her, her fingers lingering on rumi’s shoulder as they pulled apart.
rumi cleared her throat, voice hoarse. “i’m gonna…” she gestured vaguely toward the door. “water.”
mira didn’t answer.
she blinked like she was still underwater. then sat up slowly, shirt wrinkled, face flushed. “bathroom,” she muttered, already moving.
neither of them looked at zoey.
and suddenly—she was alone.
the silence hit like a wave.
heavy. dense. cracked down the middle with everything unsaid.
zoey’s hands pressed into the sheets. her legs curled beneath her. her lips still tingled. her thighs still ached. her heart was pounding.
whatever this was—whatever they’d just done—it was real. it was messy. it was electric. and it had changed something between them in a way none of them were ready to say out loud.
or maybe it didn’t change anything, maybe it’s always been that way, they’ve always felt this way and it’s just been waiting for the right time to come out.
zoey stared at the door mira had disappeared behind, then glanced toward the kitchen where rumi had gone.
her fingers curled into the bedsheets, and she whispered, just to herself, “holy fuck.”
disclaimer. part 2 by heavy demand.
summary. rumi knew accepting her demon side meant accepting the features that came with being a half demon. the sharp fangs, long, 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. rumira content. polyamory. rumira. established poly couple. only rumira have sex here zoey alr got her pussy beat. g!p rumi. top!rumi. rabid!rumi. needy!rumi. bottom!zoey... for now. demon rumi. dubcon. blood kink. rumi likes to bite and drinks blood like a depraved weirdo. they are okay with that. marking kink. a/b/o without the weird hierarchy.
ao3. pt.1 here.
₊ ˚ • . ♡ "hi, mira.” rumi's voice was low and smooth. she leaned casually against the door frame, arms folding over her chest with slow, deliberate ease. “how was the choreography class today?”
there was something off about her tone—too calm, too warm, like she was in on something mira wasn’t, like she already knew the answer.
mira's jaw tensed slightly. she swallowed, forcing herself not to look away.
her gaze flicked down briefly, to zoey—still curled on the couch, flushed, dazed, her neck red and raw with fresh bite marks.
zoey shook her head.
barely, subtly. a silent plea.
mira looked back up.
and made the mistake of letting her eyes trail down rumi’s body, where her tank top clung damp to her skin, where her marks shimmered faintly like living gold beneath the surface. her sweat-slick stomach rose and fell with heavy, even breaths, and one strap hung slightly off her shoulder, exposing the sharp line of her collarbone.
mira’s stomach twisted. not in fear. something else.
heat.
the air between them was thick. charged. like the space just before a lightning strike.
“come talk to me, mi-mi,” rumi said, her voice dipping to something intimate. “i missed you.”
she stepped away from the door, slow and graceful, disappearing into the room like she knew mira would follow.
“just for a second,” she called, right before the door closed with a soft, final click.
mira didn’t move at first.
her eyes remained locked on the door rumi had vanished behind, as if staring hard enough might undo the last ten minutes.
as if it might unmark zoey’s neck, unravel that strange look in her eyes—like she’d been taken apart and put back together again in a new shape.
possessed, zoey had said.
but that hadn’t looked like fear in her expression.
that had looked like surrender.
mira’s heart beat heavier. not faster—heavier, like it was being pulled somewhere it didn’t want to go.
her fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie. she could still smell the studio on herself—sweat, fabric spray, the faint burn of muscle and frustration.
she should’ve walked away. should’ve left.
but rumi had called to her. not just with words—but with something else. something invisible, magnetic.
it felt just like that day—when they battled gwi-ma and those boys. that same eerie ringing in her head, the kind that crept in quietly and then roared.
the kind that pulled her forward when logic said to run.
only now, it wasn’t in her head.
it was in her stomach—a low, tight flutter. no, lower—a hum nestled between her thighs, steady and insistent, like a pulse that didn’t belong to her.
it tugged at mira now, low and constant. like the thrumming of a bassline beneath her skin.
it wanted to be stopped.
to be soothed.
to be touched.
she exhaled hard through her nose, tossed a glance at zoey—who had turned away, blanket pulled up to her mouth like she couldn’t bear to hear what came next.
she leaned down to the couch, pressing a kiss to the side of zoey’s head. “i’ll be quick, okay?”
she waited for zoey’s acknowledgment, a soft nod, and then mira moved.
one foot in front of the other.
mira stepped into the room, immediately struck by the chaos that greeted her. blankets and pillows lay strewn like the aftermath of a storm.
the sheets on the bed were crumpled and mottled, stained with faint, dried patches—like water spilled and left to parch in the heat.
the air was thick, humid with something unsaid.
rumi was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on her knees, hands clasped loosely like she’d been waiting. her hair was slightly damp, clinging to the nape of her neck, and the soft glow of the room caught on her shimmering marks—alive with movement, like embers dancing beneath her skin.
mira hovered just inside the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest. it was the only way to keep from folding.
rumi looked up at her slowly, her voice low and smooth—more of a hum from deep within her chest than a question. “was the class good? bobby said they were american choreographers.”
mira swallowed and nodded, her gaze flicking over rumi—her glistening skin, the subtle heave of her chest, the way she looked coiled and uncoiled all at once.
the marks on her skin pulsed with eerie colors, like veins of living light rippling beneath porcelain. the glow shifted—bright, then dim—like a quiet warning.
“y—yeah,” she said, voice low, cautious. “i learned a lot. got stuck at first since americans focus more on lower body movement than upper, but i caught on quick.” she uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides. “wasn’t blessed with these long legs for nothing.”
rumi’s eyes dipped lower, trailing along mira’s toned thighs, the subtle line of muscle, the way her sweatpants hugged just right.
her voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, breathless with something wild. “yeah.” her lip curled just enough to reveal sharp, gleaming fangs.
the tension wrapped around them like smoke—thick, slow, creeping into every breath.
mira cleared her throat, cutting through it just enough to speak. “i saw the bite mark on zoey. she said you did that. is that why you’ve been… different lately?”
rumi didn’t answer. not with words.
but her skin did—her patterns flared faintly beneath her collarbone, like a struck match. she dropped her gaze to the floor, jaw flexing.
then, finally, she looked back up—eyes gleaming in the low light. “of course not,” she said evenly.
a lie.
mira walked closer to rumi and rumi watched, like a sailor trapped by a siren. her movements were languid, like she was underwater. like the gravity between them had shifted.
she turned slowly, crossing the space between them until she was standing directly in front of rumi. her hand lifted, calloused fingers brushing along rumi’s jaw before settling gently against her cheek.
warm. intimate.
rumi didn’t flinch.
instead, she leaned into the touch, searching mira’s face with dark, steady eyes.
“i don’t believe you,” mira said softly. “and you’re not even trying to make me.”
rumi’s right eye flashed gold and before mira could react, rumi pulled her down—smooth and controlled—until she was seated in her lap, straddling her thighs.
her hands came up to mira’s face, fingers firm and reverent as she guided her forward into a kiss that stole the air from both their lungs.
rumi let out a soft, broken whimper against her lips. mira gasped gently, parting her mouth, just enough for rumi to deepen the kiss.
it was a kiss of contradictions—tender and unyielding, slow yet pulsing with hunger. rumi’s lips moved like a promise: that she would take her time, but she would not let her go.
her hands slid down—over the curve of mira’s hips, trailing along the muscle of her thighs with deliberate worship.
her fingers flexed as they traveled down the expanse of skin, squeezing just above the knees, then higher.
rumi loved mira’s legs—had always loved them. the strength, the definition, the way they moved in battle and danced in rehearsal. they were art, and she wanted to memorize every inch of them.
her admiration turned into hunger, and her hands gripped tighter.
her nails, dulled by restraint but still demonic at the core, began to slip free—gently piercing the skin as she dragged her fingertips upward.
mira hissed softly as one nail caught and scratched—a shallow, burning line down her thigh.
but she didn’t pull away.
her breath hitched. her grip on rumi’s shoulders tightened. rumi’s gaze flickered up at her, contrite for a half-second. “sorry—” she whispered, voice rough with emotion and want.
but mira just shook her head, lips swollen and eyes heavy.
“shh,” she murmured, not moving an inch. “keep going.”
and rumi did.
her hands found the underside of mira’s thighs and lifted—effortlessly, strongly—as she walked them both to the bed, laying mira down with a care that contrasted the heat sparking between them.
rumi settled between her legs, nestling close, her hips grinding forward just once, slow and deliberate, pressing her bulge against mira’s clothed core.
the friction made mira shiver, thighs tightening slightly around rumi’s waist.
rumi’s hands never stopped moving—slow, reverent—as if mira’s thighs were sacred terrain she was only now being allowed to explore.
she traced every muscle, every curve, memorizing them with her palms.
she broke the kiss, her lips trailing downward, dipping into mira’s neck, down her chest, her stomach—pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to skin that quivered under each one.
when she reached her destination, rumi lowered herself further, onto her knees, before staring at one of mira’s knees. she kissed the skin there, slow and indulgent, then followed the streak of blood down mira’s thigh with her tongue.
the taste hit her like a jolt. she wasn’t as sweet as zoey, she had more of a cocoa taste.
a second of silence, of stillness—then she latched onto the wound, mouth sealing around it. she drank, softly at first, then deeper, needier, as that familiar wave of relief hit her like warm light from within.
mira’s breath caught.
she blinked, thinking of zoey—of what she’d said—of the bite. the warning. but the heat blooming in her body now didn’t feel like fear.
it felt like desire.
maybe it was how close rumi was to her core.
maybe it was the way rumi’s tongue lingered at the edges of pain and pleasure, pressing her tongue into the stinging wound.
or maybe it was just the fact that her thighs were so sensitive.
but the more she watched—watched the way drool and blood mingled on rumi’s chin, the way her lashes fluttered, lost in the taste—the harder mira’s body pulsed with need.
the glow across rumi’s skin intensified, her shimmering marks flashing from gold to a deep, feral emerald. they lit her up from within, casting sharp, flickering shadows across the sheets, painting mira’s skin in streaks of light and hunger
her marks flickered wildly across her back, casting shifting shadows along the walls and across mira’s skin like wild brushstrokes of light and want.
rumi finally pulled away from the wound, her lips wet and stained, tongue sweeping across them slowly—like she was savoring the last of mira on her tongue.
mira gasped, breath hitching as she felt a rush of wetness soak into her panties, her hips twitching against the sheets beneath her.
rumi rose to her feet with a slow grace, eyes never leaving mira’s face.
her hands slid down, warm and reverent, brushing the hem of mira’s shorts. she hooked her fingers inside the waistband and pulled—slowly, deliberately—dragging the soft fabric down mira’s smooth, creamy legs, baring her inch by inch like she was unveiling something sacred.
she dragged mira closer to the edge of the bed, grip unyielding on her thighs, and dropped to her knees like a worshipper.
her face pressed into the damp fabric of mira’s panties, inhaling the thick, heady scent—earthy, sweet, like melted chocolate laced with heat and sweat.
she moaned and the sound vibrated straight into mira’s core, and when rumi pressed a slow, kiss to her clit through the soaked fabric, mira choked on a gasp, her spine arching off the bed.
her fingers clawed at the sheets, her body already teetering from the buildup.
a shiver ran through her, not from cold, but from the electric touch that promised more.
she didn’t even want to take control, not like rumi would’ve let her. but she didn’t want to guide. her mind was telling, screaming at her to take it but there was this warm buzz, a voice in her ear that told her to surrender—to let rumi have her, break her open and fix her.
her hand found rumi’s braid like instinct, fingers curling into it as rumi tugged her panties aside with a practiced, deliberate drag.
then came the lick, slow and broad. a deliberate stroke from her entrance to her clit that made mira moan deep in her throat. her whole body jerked.
“such a pretty girl,” rumi whispered against her, breath brushing wet heat. mira trembled, thighs twitching. “my pretty girl.”
rumi hummed—and that hum, low and vibrating, sank into mira like a second tongue.
she lapped again, more intent now, her lips wrapping tight around mira’s clit. she sucked—deep, slow, consuming—and mira bucked against her face with a sob.
rumi didn’t let up. she moaned again, the sound guttural, primal, echoing through mira’s body like thunder.
her tongue danced—circling, flicking, dragging in slow, torturous strokes until mira was panting, legs shaking, crying out in broken gasps.
her tongue flicked, circled, then pressed firm and slow, dragging another desperate cry from mira’s throat.
mira was unraveling, coming apart under the heat of rumi’s mouth, under the hunger in her touch.
“rumi—fuck, fuck, please—” mira’s voice cracked, the rasp dying out as her hips moved helplessly, trying to chase the rhythm rumi gave and took away in cruel, perfect pulses. “please...”
rumi pulled back just enough to speak, lips slick, eyes burning. “you gonna come for me, pretty girl?” her voice was velvet and smoke, the way the cocky words flew from her mouth was enough to make mira clench around nothing.
she loved and hated how sassy rumi could get, it was both sexy and annoying.
before mira could respond, rumi grabbed hold of her thighs, gripping tight—nails biting in—pulling mira closer, until her legs caged rumi’s head.
and then—
rumi dove back in, relentless.
her tongue flicked fast, her lips suckled hard, and just when mira reached the precipice—shaking, breathless, on the edge.
rumi sank her teeth into the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
pain. sharp, searing.
pleasure. immediate. devastating.
the two collided, a supernova of sensation that exploded in mira’s stomach and ripped the orgasm from her like a scream.
she came with a cry so raw it shook the room, body locking up, every nerve on fire.
her mouth fell open, her breath punched out of her as the climax tore through her—violent, beautiful, unstoppable.
rumi held her through it, mouth still working, coaxing every last flicker, every trembling wave until mira collapsed, spent and shaking, her thighs still trembling around rumi’s face.
“r–rumi!” mira choked out, voice unsteady.
rumi rose in one smooth motion, still between mira’s legs, eyes molten with want as she slapped a hand over mira’s mouth, muting her screams while yanking her own shorts down beneath her cock, letting it spring free, flushed and hard.
mira tried to sit up, tried to snap something sharp—maybe about the bite, about the way she was already spiraling again—but she was too dizzy.
rumi only smirked, wicked and full of promise. she pushed forward, the head of her cock pressing against mira’s soaked entrance.
“god, you are—shit.” rumi groaned as she began to sink in, slow but unrelenting, eyes locked onto mira’s as she removed her hand from her mouth, hands coming to her hips.
mira’s breath hitched, pleasure flared sharp and immediate, the stretch overwhelming, pressure mounting deep in her belly.
her muscles clenched around rumi, her stomach still fluttering from the orgasm that hadn’t even fully faded.
she was still shaking, still throbbing—and now she was being filled, inch by inch, every nerve reigniting with greedy need.
mira’s lips parted, but no words came.
she felt everything—every pulse of rumi’s cock as it filled her, every hot drag of breath against her skin—but it was like her body was moving through water, slow, distant.
there was a ringing in her ears, soft at first, then swelling into something loud and vibrating, like a tuning fork pressed to her skull.
her mouth opened again, a whisper caught in her throat—but nothing came out.
her vision blurred at the edges, colors smearing like oil on water.
the only thing sharp was rumi—her eyes, her smirk, the weight of her body pressing mira down.
her limbs tingled. her skin flushed. she was floating and burning all at once.
the bite, that fucking bite.
zoey, you were right.
it dulled her thoughts like fog creeping over glass. her body arched, her hips moved, her moans spilled from parted lips—but she couldn’t think through the haze. couldn’t speak. only feel.
rumi rocked into her, slow and deep, drinking in every flutter of mira’s lashes, every helpless twitch.
“that’s it,” she purred, voice muffled behind the ringing. “don’t fight it. let me have you.”
mira’s pussy fluttered at rumi’s choice of words, hands reaching for rumi’s shoulders, nails pressing crescent shaped moons into her skin.
her body was lit up, oversensitive, clenching around rumi as heat built again—but her mind was lagging, struggling to break through the fog.
and just as she began to push past it—just as her breath sharpened, her gaze locked onto rumi’s face, clarity beginning to return. then—
rumi bared her teeth before leaning down.
“ru—rumi!” mira cried out as rumi lowered her hand, lips finding the curve of mira’s neck, and—
she bit.
mira gasped—a silent, stunned noise—as the haze rushed back in with brutal force. a flash of heat. pain. euphoria.
mira’s vision went white, her breath catching as rumi’s teeth sank into her neck, feeling the blood drain into rumi's mouth and down her throat.
a low, guttural moan tore from mira’s throat as her body responded instantly, a violent wave of arousal crashing over her before she could catch her breath.
mira’s hands flew down rumi’s back, nails raking deep, carving sharp red lines into her skin. she didn’t know whether she was trying to pull her closer or push her away—but it didn’t matter.
rumi was already moving.
in one swift motion, she pulled out, grabbed mira’s arms, and flipped her onto her stomach. she moved behind her, strong hands seizing mira’s hips and dragging them up, pressing her chest into the mattress as she forced her into a perfect arch.
rumi bit her lip hard, eyes devouring the sight in front of her—mira’s body fully exposed, curves glowing under the low light, that smooth, milky skin practically begging to be marked again.
she gripped the base of her cock, guiding it to mira’s entrance—and slid back in with ease, soaked and hot around her.
“oh god—fucking hell, mira.” rumi groaned, her voice cracked and raw as pleasure shot up her spine like lightning. “so warm… so good.”
she ran her hands down the length of mira’s arched back, then tangled them in the twin pink pigtails spilling over her shoulders. she grabbed a fistful and yanked mira’s head back, making her gasp, spine curving deeper.
rumi began thrusting into her again, harder this time—steady and deliberate, hips rolling deep as she wrapped mira’s hair around her wrist like a leash, the other hand planted firmly between her shoulder blades to keep her pinned in that perfect position—open, obedient, shaking.
the only thing mira could do was take it.
her body burned, overstimulated and craving more. “a—anngg..!” she cried, her fingers fisted the sheets, teeth sinking into her lip to stop the cries spilling out too easily.
she didn’t understand what was happening—why her emotions surged and twisted with every thrust.
why she felt like she was being split open in more ways than one.
so many feelings. too much sensation.
none of it made sense.
all she could do was feel—because rumi gave her no room to do anything else.
the bite was pulsing, her cunt was pulsing, heart was pulsing, head was pulsing. her neck throbbed with heat, a dull ache blooming beneath the skin, but it fed into the pleasure like fuel to a fire.
every movement, every thrust, the way her scalp ached with each pull of her hair sent aftershocks through mira’s body.
her mind was a mess of ringing and light, heat and rhythm—but her senses were sharper now. everything felt unbearable: the stretch of rumi inside her, the slap of her ass against rumi’s pelvis, the hot breath ghosting over the fresh wound on her neck.
rumi leaned down, licking the spot where she’d bitten, soothing it briefly before whispering, “you feel that? that’s mine now. you’re mine.”
mira whimpered, legs tightening as another pulse of pleasure coiled low in her belly. her walls clenched hard around rumi’s cock, and rumi groaned, eyes fluttering shut as she pushed in even deeper.
their bodies moved together, rough and perfect. mira’s moans turned breathless, caught between overstimulation and some dark, dizzying craving she couldn’t name.
her walls fluttered around rumi’s cock, clenching down hard, and rumi groaned—deep and raw—her thrusts turning rougher, desperate.
and then—something snapped.
not just inside mira, but between them.
a white-hot flare ignited at the spot where rumi had bitten her, and suddenly mira was drowning in a tidal wave of raw, feral need. she felt unhinged. rabid.
like these feelings weren’t her own.
she felt rumi’s.
the hunger. the desperation. the primal, aching drive to claim—to own.
and then—like lightning arcing across live wires—zoey.
“shh,” rumi whispered, her thrusts slowing to a deliberate grind. “you hear her?”
mira blinked, dazed—then froze.
outside the door, faint but unmistakable, came the sound of moaning.
zoey’s moaning, the soft sound of squelches.
mira gasped, eyes wide. the orgasm was building fast, winding tighter in her belly—but now her chest heaved under the weight of foreign emotion.
need. jealousy. longing. confusion.
it wasn’t hers.
it wasn’t rumi’s.
it was zoey’s.
mira could feel her. not in the room, but near—close enough the air felt charged with her presence. the sting of being forgotten. the electric hum of arousal. the sharp, wounded heat of wanting more.
rumi moaned, faltering for a beat before she drove in again, hard enough to make mira cry out. her voice was tight. shaken.
“fuck—do you feel that? she’s so close. you’re so close. we’re so close.”
mira could barely breathe. “rumi.. ! what the—?”
their bond flared again, hotter, brighter, a living thing threading through all three of them.
it was overwhelming. addictive. three hearts pounding like war drums. three minds tangled in heat and hurt and craving—wrapped in silk and flame.
and then mira shattered.
she screamed, legs locking, back arching as her orgasm tore through her—violent, guttural, shared.
it crashed into rumi a split-second later, pulling a growl from deep in her chest as she slammed forward, hips flush against mira’s ass, cock pulsing deep inside her as she came.
outside the door—zoey cried out.
a high, broken sound. her knees buckling. a rush of wet heat between her legs. her hands fisting on the couch. their names on her tongue—both of them—but not even she knew which one she meant more.
mira collapsed face-first into the mattress, panting, shaking from head to toe.
rumi slumped over her a heartbeat later, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her shoulder, her breath hot and uneven. her body was still trembling.
♡ ° ｡ㅤ→ ༄ ‧ ₊ ˚ ♡
the air in the room was thick—humid with sweat, sex, and something else entirely. the bond still pulsed faintly between them, quieter now, like an ember instead of an inferno.
mira lay motionless, boneless, her breathing shallow and slow. her hair was tangled, stuck to her cheeks with sweat.
her thighs still trembled every now and then, little aftershocks twitching through her worn-out body.
rumi slowly pulled out, groaning softly at the slick drag. mira whimpered in her sleep, barely conscious, and rumi soothed her with a hand on her back.
“shhh, i’ve got you.”
her voice had dropped into something low and quiet—almost reverent.
she moved with purpose now. a warm cloth, retrieved from the bathroom. she cleaned between mira’s thighs with gentle strokes, dabbing away the evidence of everything they’d just shared.
mira stirred once, letting out a soft sigh, but didn’t wake.
rumi kissed her shoulder, then tugged the sheets over her. mira melted into them like her bones had dissolved, her breath finally evening out.
and then rumi stood.
the hallway outside the room was still, but charged.
zoey was there.
she’d slumped against the couch on the floor, legs spread, wetness between them and the floor in front of her, hair mussed, cheeks flushed and tear-streaked.
her body was tense—too tense—but her eyes were locked on rumi, wide and unsure.
“come here, zo-zo,” rumi ordered quietly.
zoey simply stared up at rumi, eyes trailing down her body before looking forward once more.
rumi hummed, knowing exactly what she was trying to say. she walked over to zoey, crouching down beside her.
she hooked one arm under zoey’s knees and the other on her back, lifting her bridal style. zoey let herself be picked up, nothing but silence between them as rumi walked her into the room, nothing as she was pulled down onto the mattress beside mira.
mira instinctively shifted toward her in her sleep, brows knitting as if she could sense zoey even while unconscious.
rumi cleaned her, too—more slowly. more deliberately.
zoey watched her work with wide eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “what’s going on, rumi?”
rumi looked up, brushing zoey’s damp hair back from her face. “it’s too complicated to explain to you right now,” she said simply. “let me get you to sleep and we’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?”
zoey nodded slowly, her throat worked around silence as rumi laid her back and tugged the covers up around them both.
then she climbed into bed behind them, settling between the girls—one arm around zoey’s waist, the other draped over mira’s hip.
the room went still.
mira slept deeply, face soft against the pillow. zoey’s breathing slowed gradually, her lashes fluttering shut as rumi pressed a kiss to her shoulder and whispered against her skin, “rest.”
the bond settled like warm silk between the three of them, humming low and steady.
for now, there was nothing left to say. just the quiet.
and sleep.
cocky rumi aghahsh. my peanits iz burstin. tell me if you liked!!
summary. zoey’s never been the most secure girl. It explained why she was so eager to please, doing everything she could to hear the words, 'good job' from someone she loved. So when Rumi unexpectedly complimented her for her hair, which she believed was long overdue for a cut, she couldn't help but blush.
warnings. smut. polyamory. zorumi. praise kink. mira and rumi show their girl some love as deserved. kitchen sex. dom!mira. dom!rumi. bottom!zoey. dubcon. miras an eater (canon). the kind of greed they talk about in the bible. fluffy ending. zoey with her hair down
a/n: this was supposed to be fluff originally but I got carried away and I think zoey needs more appreciation in and out of the show. (idc if she gets enough she needs more).
ao3.
rumi sighed, tossing her pen onto the table with a soft clatter. frustration prickled up her spine—she knew what she wanted to say. the line was right there, but the words just wouldn’t land the way she needed them to.
they didn’t sound right.
she leaned back in her chair, exhaling through her nose as her eyes wandered—inevitably—to zoey.
zoey sat cross-legged on the chair at the kitchen table, creamy bare thighs on full display, a thick hoodie swallowing the rest of her. it hung low, brushing the tops of her legs, the sleeves pushed sloppily up her arms. a notebook rested on one thigh, and her pen tapped rhythmically to the beat playing through her headphones.
she looked so focused. so effortlessly pretty.
her hair was down for once, the strands slightly mussed, with bangs that had grown too long and now kept slipping into her eyes.
rumi tilted her head, letting her gaze linger.
something about it made her stop.
zoey just looked… soft like this. unbothered. vulnerable in a way that made rumi’s chest clench.
zoey jotted something down, biting her lip—then let out a little squeak of excitement.
but she must’ve felt the weight of rumi’s stare, because her pen slowed… then stopped completely.
she glanced up, pulling one side of her headphones off with a curious little smile.
“what?” she asked, laughing quietly. “did you finally figure your lines out? or are you just gonna keep staring at me like that?”
rumi blinked, caught mid-thought, then tilted her head with a lazy half-smirk. “do you not like being stared at?” she asked, voice softer now—less teasing, more genuinely curious.
zoey’s eyes flicked away. she gave a soft shrug.
“i don’t know… i guess i just don’t get why anyone would.”
that hit rumi somewhere low in her chest.
“hmm,” she said. “i can think of a few reasons.”
the room got quiet before rumi spoke again. “your hair’s getting long.”
zoey blinked back, glancing up as if just realizing the way her bangs dipped into her eyes. she blew at them with a huff of breath before taking her headphones off, setting them on the table. “ah… yeah, i’ve been so busy i haven’t had time to cut it. should i?”
rumi leaned her elbow on the table, eyes never leaving her. “no,” she said firmly. “it looks good like this. i like it like this.”
zoey looked at her again, a little unsure. “..yeah?”
“yeah,” rumi said, smiling now. she reached out and gently tucked zoey’s hair behind her ear, letting her fingers linger. “you’re so pretty, zoey.”
that caught zoey completely off guard.
zoey’s breath hitched. her heart gave a small, involuntary stutter, and her stomach fluttered with that soft, unsteady warmth that made her feel dizzy in the best way.
she didn’t know what to do with it—with the compliment, the touch, the way rumi was looking at her like she meant it.
her eyes widened just slightly, lips parting—speechless for once. the air between them grew heavier, charged, and zoey’s cheeks lit up pink.
she ducked her head, hand brushing over the spot rumi had touched, a quiet, shaky laugh escaping her. “oh my god,” she muttered. her voice was too soft, too breathy. she felt like she was floating. or melting. maybe both.
rumi watched her like she was the only thing in the room. “is zoey…” she said, tilting her head with a grin. “is zoey blushing?”
zoey groaned, hands flying up to cover her face.
“no, i’m not—shut up.”
“stop!” zoey said through her hands, voice muffled and clearly flustered. “i’m gonna kick you.”
“you wouldn’t,” rumi teased, scooting her chair closer until their knees brushed. she leaned in, breath warm against zoey’s ear, her hand settling confidently on her thigh. “my pretty little zoey.”
zoey froze, her breath catching in her throat. her hands slowly dropped, her face still flushed, eyes wide with that same vulnerable disbelief.
rumi didn’t give her a chance to recover.
zoey tried to lean away, overwhelmed—but rumi followed, closing the space between them with a quiet intensity.
her hand slid from zoey’s thigh to her cheek, tilting her head towards hers just slightly before pressing their mouths together.
the kiss started soft—testing—but zoey gasped, her breath hitching as she gave in, fingers twisting on the front of rumi’s hoodie like she was holding on for dear life.
that flutter in her stomach twisted into something heavier, warmer—needier.
she melted fast.
too fast.
chairs scraped loudly as rumi tugged her closer, zoey nearly falling out of her seat in the process. rumi stood, pulling zoey up with her like it was nothing, like she was weightless, and kissed her again—deeper this time.
their mouths moved together, wet and hot, tongues brushing. “rumi..!” zoey moaned softly into her, voice barely restrained, every part of her trembling from the intensity of it.
rumi backed her up until she hit the edge of the table, then pressed her in place, hips flush, hands gripping tight at her waist.
her mouth dragged down, kissing along zoey’s jaw and lower still, until she found the soft skin of her neck.
“fuck,” zoey whispered, eyes fluttering shut.
rumi didn’t stop.
“my beautiful girl,” she murmured against her skin, breath warm and ragged. she sucked lightly, then kissed again, leaving slow heat in her wake.
her fingers slipped under the hem of zoey’s large hoodie, lifting it while her thumbs brushed her hips. “no shorts? mm.” rumi spoke, pulling at the hem of zoey’s panties and letting it snap back against her skin causing zoey to yelp.
zoey’s entire body buzzed with sensation. her mind was soft static. her legs felt weak.
she didn’t hear the door.
but rumi did—just a beat too late.
“well—holy shit,” mira’s voice rang out, half-laughing, half-stunned. “i leave you guys alone for five minutes and now you’re practically fucking on top of the lyric sheets?”
zoey gasped and jolted back, shoving at rumi’s shoulders with burning cheeks and pushing her hoodie down. “oh my god—mira!”
rumi barely moved, just turned her head lazily toward mira, lips flushed, eyes half-lidded. “you were gone for thirty,” she said calmly, like she wasn’t just about to turn zoey out in the dining room.
mira dropped the bags on the counter, eyebrows raised, a grin pulling at her lips. “i was shopping, not speedrunning,” she muttered, watching them with interest.
before zoey could run, rumi dissolved into pink mist before appearing behind zoey again—effortless, predatory.
she slid her arms around zoey’s waist and pulled her backward, flush to her chest, until zoey gave a breathless squeak. “ah—rumi!”
“mira, look here,” rumi said smoothly, her voice dripping with mischief. “see how long her hair’s gotten?”
zoey whined, face burning as her hands flew up to cover herself again.
but rumi was already catching them—her fingers threading through zoey’s, gently but deliberately pulling her arms down and away from her face.
“don’t hide,” rumi whispered near her ear, lips brushing against her skin. “i want her to see how pretty you are.”
zoey’s breath hitched. her body trembled, a sharp pulse deep inside her, clenching around nothing.
it was too much—the attention, the praise, the heat in both their eyes.
and mira, still leaning casually against the counter with her arms crossed, watched it all unfold with a glint of amusement. she let out a low, appreciative whistle.
“jesus. should i leave again or grab popcorn?”
zoey tried to twist away, overwhelmed, but rumi only caught her wrists and drew them behind her back, holding her there—easily, securely.
“mira, please—don’t feed her ego,” she said, voice cracking with embarrassment.
“oh no,” mira said, stepping closer with a wicked grin, her gaze dragging slowly down zoey’s body. “look at how your hair falls down your shoulders… an absolute beauty, aren’t you?”
“stop,” zoey let out a sigh, trying to pull from rumi’s grip, but rumi kept her in place—firm and patient.
“she gets so shy when you say nice things,” rumi murmured near zoey’s ear, clearly enjoying the way her words made zoey squirm. “isn’t that sweet?”
mira tilted her head, eyes glinting as she stepped in closer. “it is, isn’t it? are you a good girl, zoey? our good, sweet girl?”
zoey let out a soft, needy whimper, her knees visibly buckling as she gave a shy nod, eyes flickering between them as rumi moved to her side.
but mira wasn’t satisfied.
she leaned in until her lips were barely an inch from zoey’s, her voice a velvet command.
“nuh-uh. use your words.”
zoey’s breath caught. her lips parted like she wanted to speak—but nothing came out.
rumi chuckled low against her neck, her fingers stroking slow circles at zoey’s waist. “come on, baby,” she coaxed, voice like honey. “say it. be good for us.”
zoey’s eyes fluttered closed, her face burning. and then, barely audible:
“i’m… your good girl.”
mira smiled. “there she is.”
rumi hummed, brushing her lips along zoey’s jaw as she spoke. “you know, i think good, pretty girls deserve special attention.”
mira nodded, biting her lip as she caged zoey in, “i think you’re right, rumi.”
before zoey could even ask what that meant, mira was already moving—hands at the hem of her hoodie, lifting it just enough to expose the bare skin beneath.
“wait—” zoey gasped, but rumi was right there, soothing her with a kiss behind her ear.
“shh,” she whispered. “let us take care of you.”
zoey trembled in place, thighs brushing as she struggled to stay upright, her hoodie now bunched around her hips—exposing the curve of her waist and the sliver of pale skin above her underwear.
rumi got behind zoey once more, giving her a solid place to lean against, while mira knelt slowly in front of her like she had all the time in the world.
her hands slid down zoey’s legs, fingers trailing along the backs of her thighs, then smoothing up again—slow, deliberate. mira pressed a soft kiss just above the band of her underwear, her breath hot against sensitive skin, eyes glinting as she looked up.
zoey’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering. she felt raw—vulnerable and seen, a fluttering ache pulsing low in her belly.
her knees buckled slightly, only held up by rumi’s solid frame behind her.
“r-rumi—” she whispered.
“you’re doing so good,” rumi murmured, kissing just below her jaw now, her voice dripping with praise. “so perfect, we got you. let us show you how much we mean it.”
mira’s hands gripped zoey’s thighs, thumbs stroking slowly along the inside until one hand slid up and gently hooked her leg over mira’s shoulder, opening her up further.
the shift made zoey gasp—made her hoodie ride even higher, nearly baring her completely.
“look at you,” mira breathed, kissing her hipbone, her tone half-reverent, half-teasing. “shaking just from a little touch. such a sensitive thing…”
zoey whimpered, heat rolling off her in waves, one hand gripping rumi’s wrist for stability, the other tangled in the hem of her hoodie.
she couldn’t decide whether to pull it down or let it rise higher.
rumi leaned closer, her lips brushing over the shell of zoey’s ear again, voice low and intimate. “tell us if it’s too much, baby. otherwise…”
her hand slid just beneath the waistband of zoey’s underwear, barely grazing skin.
“…let us keep going.”
zoey nodded quickly, but mira tapped her thigh.
“use your words,” she said again, softly—but it was a command.
zoey bit her lip, her voice barely more than a whisper. “please… don’t stop. i don’t want you to stop.”
that was all they needed.
rumi kissed her temple, her hand gently pulling zoey’s hoodie up higher, bunching the fabric around her ribs until it was practically off. she tugged it carefully over zoey’s head, baring her slowly like she was unwrapping something precious.
zoey shivered under the attention, arms folding instinctively across her exposed chest.
“none of that,” rumi murmured from behind, gently uncrossing zoey’s arms and kissing the slope of her shoulder. “you don’t have to hide from us. you’re enough. let us see you.”
zoey breathed out shakily, nodding, trying to trust the warmth in their hands, the sincerity in rumi’s voice. the hoodie hit the floor with a soft sound, and now she stood between them in nothing but a thin pair of underwear, trembling and adored.
mira’s fingers traced the waistband again, her eyes never leaving zoey’s face.
“you’re so pretty like this,” she whispered, voice husky. “you were made for this, weren’t you? to be taken care of. this is what you need, zo zo.”
zoey’s thighs clenched, a soft noise catching in her throat as mira kissed the inside of her leg—slow, deliberate, just above the knee. then higher. higher still. until she was just breathing against her center through the thin fabric of her panties.
zoey whimpered.
rumi leaned into her ear again. “that feel good, zo?” she asked softly. “you want her mouth on you?”
zoey could barely think. she nodded quickly—desperate, dizzy.
rumi chuckled. “your words, zoey.”
her voice trembled. “i… i want it. i want mira’s mouth on me. please…”
mira grinned, fingers hooking into the sides of her underwear, dragging them down slow enough to make zoey twitch.
“that’s my good girl,” mira murmured. “beg so sweet.”
zoey stepped out of them shakily, one leg still hooked around mira’s shoulder. her entire body was open—flushed, trembling, exposed in every way.
and yet they kept looking at her like she was something sacred.
mira leaned in and kissed her—soft at first. her voice followed, low and hungry. “how pretty,” she murmured, lips brushing soaked heat. “all this just for us?”
zoey whimpered, hips jerking at the contact. it felt like her skin was too thin, too sensitive. like every nerve had been rewired just to feel them.
then mira’s tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, dragging through her, and zoey gasped—head falling back hard against rumi’s shoulder.
pleasure pulsed through her, thick and hot, but it wasn’t just the physical. it was the unbearable ache of being seen, of being told she was beautiful—again and again—when all she ever felt was not enough.
too much.
unworthy.
but they looked at her like she was the center of the world.
rumi held her like she might come apart. pressing soft kisses to her throat, chest cradled gently in one arm, her other hand stroking slow circles across zoey’s belly, grounding her in a tenderness she didn’t know how to hold onto.
“you’re okay,” rumi whispered, her voice like honey, like silk. “you’re doing so good. let her take her time with you. you taste too sweet for her to make you come so quickly—let her savor you.”
let her savor you.
oh wow.
is anyone else wet?
this was doing insane things to her ego.
rumi’s words only made zoey tremble harder.
mira moaned against her, the vibration sending a jolt straight through her core. her mouth moved in slow, wet strokes, unhurried, like zoey was something to savor—not rush, not use, but worship.
zoey cried out, hips bucking helplessly, one hand tangled in mira’s hair like she couldn’t bear to let her go. every brush of her tongue felt like too much—sharp, perfect, maddening.
“rumi—fuck—she’s—” zoey’s voice broke, a sob of pleasure escaping before she could stop it.
“i’ve got you,” rumi murmured into her neck. “you’re safe. you’re ours. let go.”
zoey’s chest ached with how much she wanted to believe it, wanted to believe them.
to believe she could be loved like this.
her moans grew tighter, breath high and stuttering, thighs shaking uncontrollably. she felt split open—not just by the pleasure, but by the way they touched her like she mattered.
like she was precious.
zoey’s moans grew higher, tighter, her hands flying to mira’s hair, clutching with helpless desperation as her legs began to shake.
her body bowed forward, her hands clutching mira like she was drowning in her.
and then—
she shattered.
her stomach clenched, back arching, a cry tearing from her lips that didn’t sound like anything she’d ever made before. it was raw. unfiltered.
her entire body pulsed, wave after wave crashing through her, leaving her shaking, breathless, and undone in rumi’s arms.
—
zoey’s body trembled as the last waves rolled through her, every muscle buzzing, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps.
she couldn’t speak—could barely think. her knees might’ve buckled if not for rumi’s steady arms still wrapped around her.
“deep breaths,” rumi whispered, brushing her lips against zoey’s temple. “you did so good, baby. so, so good.”
mira lifted her head slowly from between zoey’s thighs, lips wet, eyes soft and reverent as she looked up at her. there was no smugness now—just awe.
“my-my, zoey,” she murmured, stroking her hands gently down zoey’s trembling thighs. “you’re beautiful when you come. you looked like you were glowing.”
zoey whimpered, face turning away like she couldn’t bear the words. she didn’t know what to do with that kind of tenderness—especially when she didn’t feel like she deserved it.
“i—i’m not—” she began, voice hoarse, cracking.
“you are,” rumi said instantly, tightening her hold, pulling her closer. “you are, zoey. don’t try to argue right now, you can barely stand.”
mira stood, slowly, carefully, and moved in beside her, wrapping her arms around both of them.
she tucked her face against zoey’s cheek and whispered, “you’re not allowed to talk shit about yourself after letting us love you like that. nope. off limits.”
zoey let out a shaky, wet laugh, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes before she could stop them. “you guys are sooo mean.”
“you love it,” mira teased softly, brushing her thumb under zoey’s eye. “and we love you.”
zoey buried her face into rumi’s neck, overwhelmed in a way that felt nothing like before. not like shame. not like being too much or not enough. just… full. held. safe.
rumi rocked her gently, fingertips running along her spine. “you were so good for us,” she whispered. “so sweet. let us take care of you a little longer, okay?”
zoey nodded against her skin, small and tired and open.
“okay.”
mira kissed her cheek, then her shoulder, then the top of her head. “let’s get you in bed, pretty girl. we’ll hold you all night.”
rumi smiled into zoey’s hair. “and maybe tomorrow…” she said, voice low and promising, “…we’ll let you be the one in control.”
zoey groaned faintly, already hiding again.
“oh my god.”
they both laughed—and this time, so did she.
—
rumi cleaned her gently, every touch slow and reverent, using warm cloths from the sink while mira whispered sweet things from the pillows, coaxing zoey to keep her eyes open just a little longer.
“mmm… i’m tired..” zoey whined, her voice muffled as she curled deeper into the sheets.
“i know, zo-zo,” mira murmured from behind her, pressing a kiss to the back of her shoulder. “just a little longer, yeah? do you want to be all sticky when you wake up?”
zoey shook her head softly and mira smiled, “good, then let rumi help you.”
rumi smiled too, brushing a warm cloth between zoey’s thighs. “almost done, i promise,” she said, voice low and soothing. “you’re being such a good girl.”
zoey whimpered at that, barely able to lift her head, but clearly still affected by the praise. her lashes fluttered, heavy with sleep before she brought her hands up to cover her face. “shuutt uppp,” she mumbled, cheeks burning even through her exhaustion.
rumi chuckled, soft and fond, and leaned forward to kiss her hip. “you’re cute when you’re shy,” she said gently, wiping down the last of the mess with practiced care.
zoey grumbled something incoherent into the pillow, but didn’t move away.
mira ran her fingers through zoey’s hair and asked quietly, “are you cold?”
“a little…”
“mm. figured.” rumi tossed the cloth to the side, grabbing a pair of zoeys boxers and sliding them up her legs while mira pulled the comforter higher over all of them. “we’ve got you.”
she moved back to the bed, crawling in behind zoey and wrapping her arms around her waist, sandwiching her between them.
zoey let out a soft sigh of relief—boneless and safe—as her body fully relaxed.
rumi kissed her temple and whispered, “you did so good for us, angel. rest now.”
mira tucked the blanket around them and nuzzled close. “tomorrow, we’ll spoil you all over again.”
zoey managed a sleepy smile, already slipping under. “tomorrow,” she echoed faintly, “you’re both in trouble…”
“mm. sure we are,” rumi chuckled, pulling her closer.
they fell asleep like that—warm, tangled, and completely wrapped in each other.
and for the first time in a long while, zoey didn’t feel like she had to earn any of it.
she just let herself be loved.
as they always would.
zoey you greedy asfk.
thank you for reading, let me know how you liked it!
summary. it goes without saying that zoey is the nicest member of Huntrix. not that the other members aren't, zoey is just really sweet. And maybe her therapist would say its from her people pleaser tendencies. but zoey didn’t agree, that’s just how she was and she wouldn’t want it any other way. but once a month--when her uterus finally empties itself out, blood and flesh coming in clumps, quite literally bullying her for deciding not to procreate--once a month, that halo tilts.
warning. period sex. vaginal fingering. blood as slick/lube. polyamory. zoemi content. zomira content. established poly couple. only zoemi actually do anything. in relation to my demon rumi au, so g!p rumi technically. dom!mira. top!rumi. bottom!zoey. bratty, bratty zoey. tampon removal. unconventional intimacy. again, period sex but it's not a kink for me so I didn't focus on it I just wanted to write bratty zoey.
a/n. if you guys think this is lowk ooc then lmk bc idk I think zoey deserves to be bratty and mean. also my reqs are very much open! ^^.
ao3. pt.2?
it goes without saying that zoey is the nicest member of huntr/x.
it wasn't that the other girls, weren't, zoey was just the sweetest.
and maybe her therapist would say its from her people pleaser tendencies, that she just had this innate nature to want to please everyone.
but zoey didn’t agree, that’s just how she was and she wouldn’t want it any other way.
always offering to carry gear, share her snacks, walk the stylists to their cars at night. always the first to text a “you got this ♡” before a shoot and the last to leave the set if someone’s still packing up.
but once a month?
once a month, that halo tilts.
and today?
it was practically sliding off her head.
“I told you I didn’t want the damn water bottles, mira,” zoey whined, yanking her hoodie tighter around her middle as she curled deeper into the couch. “It smells like rubber.”
Mira blinked, holding the bright pink bottle in one hand and a bag of sour gummies in the other. “It’s almost like the bottle is made of plastic, zoey. that’s expected. either way, drinking water helps—”
“Oh, thank you, Doctor Google.” zoey cut her off with a faux shocked look. “I’ve never heard of hydration! should I try breathing next too? or! if I flutter my lashes fast enough it might make it go away!”
she didn’t stop there.
“like, do you think I haven’t tried that? you think I’ve just been lying here, in my little cocoon of suffering, refusing salvation? be serious, mir.”
that one had mira stunned into a low, breathy laugh, her eyebrows lifting halfway to her hairline as she tried to hold it together. “you woke up with your teeth sharp today, huh?”
zoey didn’t miss a beat. “and I’ll use ’em. you wanna find out?”
mira's grip on the bottle tightened. her aura shifted, and zoey felt it—like a pressure spike in her chest.
The bond between them flared hot, and zoey could feel the heat of mira’s frustration roll over her like steam.
it made her grin.
“zoey,” mira warned, voice low and taut, tossing the gummies onto zoey's lap as she sat beside her with a measured, almost too-slow ease. like she was restraining herself from lunging.
zoey opened the pack, popping a gummy into her mouth with the most obnoxious squelch imaginable. “whaat? I say ‘can you get me a case or two of Dr. Pepper please’ super nicely—even flutter my big brown eyes at you. but nooo, you show up with this glorified bottle of lake juice instead!”
mira sucked in a slow breath through her nose, and zoey felt it again—that burn of agitation and restraint pulse through the bond. It lit her up from the inside.
It was thrilling.
“yes, I did show up with this glorified lake water,” mira ground out, her jaw flexing, “because I’m not buying you two cases of Zero Sugar Vanilla Dr. Pepper just so you can be dizzy, dehydrated, and dramatic all day, per usual!”
“besides,” she added, holding the bottle up like a peace offering she was two seconds away from hurling, “this is spring water, not lake. It’s good for you in the long run.”
“and I’m still not going to drink it, so that really sounds like a you problem, go get me my Dr. Pepper.” zoey bit back, immediately feeling a but of regret stir in her chest.
she could feel it now. the moment the temperature shifted in mira’s head. anger, desire.
zoey blinked and swallowed slightly, feeling the way mira's patience strained like a rubber band pulled to the edge of snapping.
a thrill licked up her spine.
she might have gone too far.
mira paused, eyes narrowing, her jaw tight, hands clenched.
oh, she was pissed.
and zoey could sense the pull in her—like mira didn’t know whether to throw her across the couch or into the mattress.
“zoey.”
“what.”
“watch your mouth.”
zoey turned toward her, eyes narrow, lip curling in mock confusion. “what? this one?” she tapped her lips with a gummy-stained finger.
mira was still, flustered. a little aroused, a lot confused.
her mind was a warzone, and zoey could feel it—feel her trying to hold the line between patience and primal instinct, between the version of her that wanted to tuck zoey in and give her everything she’s ever wanted and the one that wanted to push her far down in the sheets and make her shut up.
zoey licked sugar off her thumb, nice and slow.
mira's fists clenched.
“yes, zoey. that mouth, the mouth I’m going to slap you in if you keep it up,” she muttered, voice low and ragged.
“ohoho! a threat? that's not very nice, Mi-Mi!” Zoey gasped, hand over her heart. “you would hit a girl on her period?“
“you're acting like a child, some children need to be spanked.”
zoey’s face heated up, but she continued anyway. “and yet…” zoey leaned back with a smug smile. “you’re still here, sitting right next to me with your tail tucked between your legs. so what’s that say about you?”
mira exhaled a sharp breath, trying to fight back the grin tugging at her lips. “it says I have a deep tolerance for pain.”
“or a humiliation kink.”
mira gritted her teeth, “say one more thing.”
“one more thing.”
“enough.”
zoey giggled, head tilting like a curious little demon. Her voice dropped to a whisper, low and daring. “you look like you wanna hurt me.”
the bond between them flared—heat, tension, want. mira could feel zoey’s pulse spike and Mira could feel the heat curling in zoey’s stomach, feel the thrill radiating from her like perfume.
the air felt charged, heavy with everything unsaid and everything imagined.
and then it snapped.
not the control. not the restraint. just the moment.
“I do,” mira growled, leaning in so close their noses nearly brushed. her voice was a low, dangerous rasp. “you’re lucky Rumi’s out doing PR. If not, I would’ve already corrected this pathetic little attitude.”
zoey’s smirk widened, reckless and taunting. “please—”
but before she could finish, mira’s hand slid up her thigh, slow and purposeful. but this time, she didn’t stop at the outside.
she slipped inside zoey's shorts.
the heat hit her instantly—wet, pulsing, aching. mira inhaled sharply. her fingers dipped between slick, bloody folds, stroking slow and purposeful. zoey’s whole body jerked, the breath leaving her in a sharp gasp.
“shh.”
mira’s other hand came up to cup her face, thumb grazing over zoey’s lips as her fingers circled her clit with aching precision.
the reaction was immediate—zoey’s hips twitched, her thighs clenched, and a low, broken whimper escaped her throat.
mira felt it all through the bond and more: the surge of pain dulled by pleasure, the raw, burning sensitivity that came with the timing—how everything felt too much, too deep, too sharp—and exactly what she needed.
zoey was aching.
mira blinked, realization clicking in place like puzzle pieces. her voice softened, low and rough. “aww, is this what you needed, zoey?”
zoey didn’t answer—couldn’t. her mouth parted but no words came, just a desperate exhale as her body rolled helplessly into mira's touch. her eyes fluttered shut, lips trembling.
mira leaned closer, her mouth brushing zoey’s ear as her fingers moved with just enough pressure to keep her squirming.
“If you needed attention, pretty girl,” she murmured, voice almost tender in contrast to the possessive grip below, “i’d have been more than happy to give it to you.”
zoey bit her lip, hard. her lashes fluttered, her brows knit. “mir..! mmmn.” she moaned, she was close—closer than she expected, everything amplified from the sharp ache in her belly to the raw heat in her chest.
mira let her teeter, let her hover.
“but antagonizing it out of me? that’s not the trick.” mira continued, pressing her fingers into zoey’s clit before, suddenly, pulling away.
her hand slid away with aching slowness, leaving zoey wet and twitching, painfully aware of everything she didn’t get, lips parted in disbelief.
mira stood, every movement calm and effortless, like she wasn’t still thrumming with the need to fuck zoey into silence, bulge pressing against her sweats.
her gaze dropped once, lingering on zoey’s parted thighs.
“think about your actions while I go get your cases of Dr. Pepper and some other things,” she said simply, grabbing a napkin from the side table and wiping her fingers. “and we’ll see if you can ask instead of demand for what you want like a good girl.”
then she turned and walked out, leaving zoey speechless, trembling, and throbbing with heat that had nowhere to go.
zoey stared, stunned and breathless, her body pulsing with frustration and need.
mira smiled faintly, grabbing a napkin from the coffee table and wiping the faint blood from her fingers. “I love you, zo.”
then she turned on her heel and left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving zoey flushed, soaked, and trembling on the couch, half in pain, half in pleasure, and completely wrecked by the weight of everything mira didn’t finish.
the elevator sounded shut, the sound of it dragging downstairs rung throughout the house, but the silence she left behind was deafening.
zoey laid there, body buzzing—her clit throbbing, her thighs damp, her breath still shallow from the touch that hadn’t gone nearly far enough.
she grabbed one of the pillows from the couch in anger, throwing it aimlessly. “ugh!” she groaned out, slumping back against the couch.
her hips twitched again, involuntarily, chasing that ghost of pressure. the place Mira’s fingers had circled burned now—sharp and hot and cruelly empty.
she whined, soft and breathy, curling onto her side and grabbing another pillow, dragging it between her thighs, grinding against it.
she slowly dragged her hips, her hard clit brushing against the fabric of her panties gave her a buzzy feeling. Her entire body stuttering as she sped up.
It felt amazing, yet all it did was frustrate her more. It was too much and not enough, everything felt too sharp, her skin too sensitive from the mix of hormones and that cursed, slow-burning bond.
she slipped a hand into her shorts.
It was instant—too wet, too swollen, her body begging. she didn’t care about the blood, she just needed to get off but even her own fingers felt wrong. not enough pressure, not the right rhythm.
her wrist trembled as she tried to keep a steady pace, but the pulse between her legs just kept building into something jagged and unsatisfying.
“ugh—” she groaned, flopping her head back against the cushion with a frustrated whimper. “miiiraaa, I hate you—”
ding.
the elevator sounded, the doors opened with a soft swish.
zoey yanked her hand out of her shorts and sat up fast, face flushed and thighs pressed tight together.
just in time.
“rumi?” she called out, voice half an octave too high, trying to sound casual.
“I’m here, zo.” rumi stepped into the room, arms full with a couple gift bags marked from the talk show’s green room, her eyes lighting up when she spotted zoey on the couch. “why’s your face so red?”
zoey quickly yanked the blanket over her lap, smoothing it down like that would somehow erase the evidence. “It’s hot in here,” she mumbled, wiping at her forehead for dramatic flair. “and I have really bad cramps, per usual. probably. I don’t know, stop looking at me like that.”
rumi chuckled softly but her brows still furrowed, concern softening her features as she came closer and set the bags down.
“it doesn’t matter,” zoey added quickly, seeing her expression. “how was the game show? did it go well?”
“it was fun. i really wanted you guys there, though. mira always makes the most constipated faces when the cameras cut to her after she’s been spacing out.”
“you’re so cute,” zoey giggled, playing it off as she scooted closer to the edge of the couch, fingers curling around rumi’s wrist. gentle, soft, needy.
the room settled into a quiet hum before rumi's voice slid in gently. “i felt it,” she murmured. “one of you was really upset, pent up. was it you?”
zoey’s heart skipped, her clit throbbed.
of course rumi had felt it. the bond always stirred with heat when one of them cracked open emotionally—and zoey had been cracking like ice under pressure since mira left her high and dry on the couch.
but then, something clicked.
her lashes fluttered, pout deepened. A tiny spark of mischief curled beneath the need.
this could work in her favor.
she looked up at rumi standing above her, soft stomach exposed, “mira was teasing me,” she said dramatically. “my cramps are really bad and i asked her to help me, then she… stopped. she got me all worked up and then just—left.
zoey leaned back slightly, keeping the blanket wrapped around her as she gave rumi a look equal parts mischief and desperation. “It’s not just the cramps, ru…”
there was a pause.
rumi blinked.
“ohhh,” she said quietly, her cheeks tinting just slightly. “i see.”
zoey nodded, playing the role to perfection. “i asked her to help me, but she left me like this instead.”
rumi chewed her bottom lip, the connection between them humming faintly. she could feel it now—zoey’s frustration, the ache humming under her skin. It was real.
and rumi was… gentle, affection, attuned to every flicker of emotion through the bond. and more than anything, she hated seeing zoey like this.
“you’re burning up,” she said quietly, crouching down beside the couch and brushing her fingers gently against zoey’s jaw. “why didn’t you just call me before the game show started?”
“i didn’t wanna bug you,” zoey mumbled, leaning into the touch, knowing she was probably too busy mouthing off to mira to call.
rumi smiled softly. “you’re never a bug.”
there was a long pause.
zoey looked at her, lashes fluttering.
“…would it be bugging you now?” she asked in a soft, teasing whisper. “if i said i still needed help?”
rumi shook her head slightly as she moved to sit beside her on the couch, letting out a sigh as the cushions dipped beneath her. “mira said you’d try something like this.”
zoey blinked innocently, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “hm?” she asked, all faux sweetness.
rumi gave her a look. “manipulating your way into getting what you want.”
zoey gasped, placing a hand dramatically on her chest. “you think I’m manipulative?”
“i know you are.”
“i prefer persistent. And I’m in paiinn,” Zoey whined, curling in closer, resting her head gently on Rumi’s shoulder. “it’s your job to help me feel better… you know. you are my girlfriend.” zoey pouted.
rumi let out a soft sigh, clearly at a dilemma. “she told me that you were being mouthy, and demanding. not listening to what she was saying.”
zoey’s face grew amused. “oh really? what else did she say about me?”
“she also told me not to touch you,” rumi said, tone dipping into something firmer, more serious. “under any circumstance. said you needed to ‘sit in what you stirred.’ learn to ask for what you want.”
zoey rolled her eyes, lips brushing against rumi’s collarbone as she nestled into her. “yeah. she told me to think about my actions too, to be good and maybe she would help me get off.”
“and did you,” rumi raised a brow, looking down at zoey, “think about your actions?” she finished.
zoey sat up, nodding slowly, expression serious for once. “yeah, I did. I thought about how stupid it is that she’d wind me up like that and then leave me with nothing but a blanket and my pride.” she paused. “which is very thin, by the way.”
rumi huffed softly, trying not to smile. she could still feel the heat buzzing—zoey’s arousal wasn’t just a ploy. it was real and tangible. She was soaked in it, practically humming.
“you’re terrible,” rumi muttered.
“I’m suffering,” zoey corrected. “and you’re warm, and soft. and you look really, really pretty when you’re blushing.”
rumi tried to look away again, but zoey pressed a kiss to her cheek, then her neck, “and you smell really, really good.”
rumi couldn’t help herself as her thighs clenched together. It was the way zoey’s voice lowered into that sweet, flirty tone made something stir in her.
“…please?” she whispered, mouth brushing near rumi’s ear, kissing just under the place Rumi loves. “just for a little bit? she doesn’t have to know.”
rumi’s pulse stuttered, patterns pulsing under her shirt.
she shouldn’t. she really shouldn’t.
mira would feel it—she always did. the bond between them was too sensitive now. they were too close.
and when mira gave instructions, she expected obedience.
period.
“rumi,” zoey said again, a little breathier this time, her knee brushing rumi’s. “i need you.”
but rumi exhaled sharply, her voice tight as she tried to keep what was left of her resolve. “Fuck, zo. I can’t get in trouble too. you know mira. plus… i have events tomorrow. if she finds out I touched you after she told me not to—”
she shivered. “her punishments aren’t playful. they aren’t the cute little orgasm denials you like to do.”
zoey rolled her eyes but let rumi continue. “they’re designed to break you down slow. like… she’ll be sweet about it at first, saying she’s disappointed. and then she just keeps going until you’re begging to be good again.”
zoey’s thighs pressed together, and rumi noticed the way her chest rose a little too quickly.
“she cockwarmed me for four hours once while she worked on music,” rumi added under her breath. “four hours. not allowed to speak, come, or move unless spoken to. i thought that was it.”
“…it wasn’t?” zoey asked, biting her lip.
“she made me thank her for even giving me attention every hour. then at the end, she kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world—and told me not to forget it.”
zoey swallowed, squirming just slightly under the blanket. “okay but… that sounds kinda hot.”
“zoey.”
“i’m serious!” she whispered, trying to keep her voice low even though her smile was coming back. “you’re literally turning me on more.”
rumi rolled her eyes—but the blush was rising fast now. “you’re impossible.”
zoey leaned in again, brushing her nose against rumi’s jaw. “just touch me,” she pleaded, voice barely a whisper. “she’ll punish me anyway and have mercy on you because I roped you into it and you have events. might as well make it worth it, right?”
the blanket slipped again, baring more of her thigh—skin flushed and inviting—and rumi cursed softly under her breath.
“…i’m only doing this to help with your cramps,” she muttered, even as her eyes dragged over zoey's lazy, teasing smile.
“of course,” zoey whispered sweetly, stretching under the blanket like a cat in a patch of sun. “strictly medicinal.”
rumi rolled her eyes and moved the blanket aside, then tugged her shorts and panties down in one fell swoop, guiding them over zoey’s hips, thighs, and off completely. her fingers were deft, gentle, respectful—but her eyes lingered a moment longer than they should’ve.
rumi blinked, then raised an eyebrow. “you still have your tampon in.”
zoey pouted, her voice dipping soft and teasing. “did you plan on using your fingers?”
rumi looked around like zoey had just asked the dumbest question. “yeah? that’s what makes you feel the best.”
zoey blinked, caught off guard by how casual and certain rumi was about it—her stomach gave a little flutter, the kind that had nothing to do with cramps.
there was something grounding in Rumi’s steadiness. that even now, when zoey was flushed and needy and a little embarrassed, she wasn’t phased.
it was strange to zoey. normally, they didn’t do this sort of thing on her period. she never asked, just waited until it was over.
they always respected her boundaries, never pushed, always asked if zoey wanted to and that they didn’t mind, careful not to make her feel gross or exposed.
rumi never cared, she was on a demon’s appetite, and if blood was involved, it only made her more ravenous.
she’d licked it from Zoey's inner thigh on numerous occasions, whispered about how sweet she tasted—zoey had never fully recovered from those memories.
“blood doesn’t scare me, zoey,” rumi murmured as she reached for a few napkins on the coffee table and folded one in her hand. her voice was so calm, like she was reassuring her about a splinter and not what was about to happen between her legs.
“lift up a little.”
zoey obeyed, lifting her hips gently as rumi tugged her panties down next, the damp cotton sliding free with a quiet rustle. she hesitated for only a second, then reached between her legs and carefully found the tampon’s string, fingers delicate as she eased it out. she wrapped it in a napkin quickly, efficiently, and dabbed softly at the inside of Zoey’s thighs to clean up.
this wasn’t gross to her—it’s Zoey. just soft and natural and intimate in a way that made her chest flutter.
the blanket was bunched beneath her like a towel now, and zoey felt everything—how exposed she was, how cared for, how seen.
rumi settled between her thighs, one hand anchoring lightly on her leg while the other moved with gentle certainty.
and when her fingers finally brushed over her, warm and slow and right where she needed it, zoey gasped, her eyes fluttering shut.
god, finally.
her thoughts scattered instantly. she couldn’t even pretend to keep still.
the ache that had coiled low in her belly for hours unraveled all at once, melting into rumi’s careful touch like wax under a match.
she was so sensitive.
it’d been too long since anyone touched her like this—tender, attentive, patient. and it was rumi, which only made everything worse. Or better. Or both.
her body trembled under every slow drag of rumi’s fingers, like she was a live wire, every nerve raw and begging. it felt like she could break open at any moment.
Rumi, blushing but focused, murmured, “you better hope she takes it easy on me for this…” her breath was warm against zoey’s skin. “or I’ll have something for you too.”
zoey’s lips curled slowly, sultry and unhurried. Her voice came out in a breathless hum, heavy with arousal and something playful underneath. “mmm. promise?”
instead of answering right away, rumi leaned in, lips grazing her throat. she pressed soft, lingering kisses just below zoey’s jaw—sweet at first, then slower, hungrier.
her fingers moved in time with her mouth, still gentle but firm now, rubbing over zoey’s aching bud with just the right pressure. slow, circular, unforgiving in the way it built without pause.
“promise,” rumi whispered, voice low against zoey’s pulse.
zoey let out a low moan, her back arching as her thighs tensed on instinct, hips twitching helplessly.
her eyes squeezed shut, but the pleasure was vivid, explosive behind her lids. it swallowed her up. all of her earlier sass melted into breathless whimpers and trembling limbs.
rumi’s hand stayed steady, but her other one moved to zoey’s waist, grounding her as she worked her through it. she watched her carefully—how zoey writhed, how her fingers clawed at the blanket bunched beneath her, how her lip trembled as she tried to hold back the next moan.
but it wasn’t enough.
zoey’s hips kept rocking forward, chasing more—deeper, fuller, needier. her eyes cracked open, glassy and pleading, and when rumi met them, she felt it.
the bond pulsed—zoey’s need, sharp and aching.
she wanted more.
zoey whimpered, nodding fast, her breath catching in her throat. she couldn’t even find words—only raw need burned behind her eyes. her body arched in silent plea, thighs falling open in surrender, inviting, begging.
but Rumi didn’t vote.
instead, she kissed the corner of zoey’s mouth, then her jaw, her voice a whisper laced with control. “words, zo. ask for what you want. don’t you want me to tell mira that you learned your lesson?
she let out a broken sound, head falling back against the couch, her chest heaving. it was too much—the heat, the tension, the slick ache low in her belly that pulsed with every heartbeat.
“i—i want…” she gasped, voice quivering. Her fingers gripped the blanket like a lifeline. “rumi, please—i need your fingers inside me. i want you to fill me.”
there it was—her truth, her plea. it left her lips like a confession.
rumi’s expression softened and sharpened all at once. The bond flared with a rush of satisfaction and desire as rumi leaned in, her nose brushing zoey’s cheek. “good girl.”
and then—her hand slid lower.
fingers gliding through slick heat, parting her gently before one slipped inside again, slow and unhurried.
zoey cried out softly, hips twitching, thighs trembling. rumi curled her finger just right, and then added another, and Zoey gasped—her whole body responding like a struck chord.
her walls were sensitive around rumi's fingers, raw and trembling, like an ulcer in the mouth—untouched for days until something grazed it just right. that jarring, exposed sting, the kind that made your breath hitch but felt impossible to leave alone.
it ached in that strange, addictive way—like she needed it, like the weird sensation itself was a form of relief.
every slow curl of rumi’s fingers lit up her nerves like a struck match. It was electric—hypersensitive, burning. even the air brushing across her damp thighs felt unbearable, like it could flay her open.
she was trembling, mouth parted, breath catching in soft, broken stutters.
her skin prickled with heat, lashes fluttering shut as her hips rolled helplessly toward rumi's hand.
it was just right—sharp pleasure and aching need flooding her all at once, every inch of her crying out for more, deeper, harder.
the way rumi’s fingers moved inside her—slow, deep, curling with practiced precision—drove her wild.
every motion struck something devastatingly sweet and sharp inside her, and with the ache of her period already making her raw, it was like being split open at the seams.
rumi leaned in, pressing kisses along zoey’s cheek, her neck, the curve of her shoulder. “you’re doing so good, zo,” she whispered, her voice a low hush between them. “you’re so perfect, so perfect.”
zoey sobbed out a sound—half a moan, half a plea. Her hips rocked without rhythm now, chasing the rising wave she felt building in her gut.
“ru—rumi, I—”
“i know, baby,” rumi murmured, shifting slightly so she could press her palm snugly against zoey’s clit as her fingers worked deeper. “i know you’re close.”
zoey’s head lolled back, mouth parted, eyes glassy and heavy-lidded. “don’t stop,” she begged, almost delirious. “please don’t stop—please—”
“i’m right here.”
rumi’s lips grazed her ear, and zoey shattered.
her body went rigid, thighs clamping around Rumi’s hand as the orgasm tore through her, wave after wave of tight, clenching bliss that stole her breath and left her reeling.
the bond lit up with the force of it—her pleasure bursting outward like a signal flare, flooding rumi—and possibly mira—with the echo of it.
zoey’s cries were soft but broken, little whimpers tumbling from her lips as she rode it out, eyes squeezed shut. her body trembled with the aftershocks, too sensitive, too full, too much.
and rumi stayed close, fingers softly thrusting to help zoey ride the waves out, before eventually pulling back. she grabbed one of the napkins from the table, carefully wiping her fingers clean before reaching out and touching zoey’s cheek again.
“you okay?” she asked softly, brushing her thumb along her flushed skin.
zoey blinked up at her, dazed and warm, lips twitching into a lazy smile. “i didn’t realize how much I needed that.” she whispered.
rumi smiled, something gentle and affectionate flickering across her face. “yeah? is that why you were being a brat to mira?” she teased, voice low and soothing as her fingers loose hairs from zoey’s damp forehead.
zoey let out a soft laugh, barely a breath. “I wasn’t even—whatever. maybe, I don’t know,” she mumbled, eyes fluttering as the tension in her body began to melt. “I just… wanted my Dr. Peppers!”
rumi huffed a quiet laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to zoey’s cheek. “you are so cute,” she whispered, tone full of warmth, fondness, the kind she only reserved for moments like this.
zoey hummed, her fingers brushing along Rumi’s arm as she blinked up at her through lazy, half-lidded eyes. “you love it.”
“perchance,” rumi teased, barely above a whisper.
“you can’t just say perchance,” zoey responded, both girls breaking out into a soft laughter before a long pause came between them, soft and slow, their breathing synced.
rumi eventually reached for another napkin from the coffee table and leaned down again, her voice gentle. “let me help you clean up, okay?”
zoey nodded, a little shy now as she adjusted.
rumi dabbed around her thighs and between them with practiced tenderness, making sure not to rush, not to overwhelm.
“you okay?” rumi murmured, glancing up briefly.
“mmhm.” zoey’s voice was quiet and warm. “this is nice.”
rumi chuckled softly. “dont get used to it. mira's gonna kill you.”
zoey smiled sleepily, her fingers reaching to twine with Rumi’s as she laid back. “i’ll fight her.”
“oh, will you?” rumi leaned forward, brushing her lips across Zoey’s knuckles. “i’d love to see how that ends.”
with zoey cleaned and the napkins tossed, rumi helped her back into fresh panties, new tampon, and a clean pair of sleep shorts, then settled beside her again under the blanket. zoey curled into her instinctively, cheek against Rumi’s chest.
“thank you,” she whispered.
rumi rested her chin atop zoey’s head, arms wrapping around her tightly. “you’re welcome, brat.”
this was written quickly and without thought so if there are any errors, please let me know. enjoy! also will u guys interact with my drabbles of them I have so many in drafts
