Chapter Text
The first time it happens is at an after party for an album launch party.
Album launch parties are, despite the name, pretty dull events, at least in Rumi's opinion.
They all generally went the same way—a lot of formalities, a lot of shaking hands with executives, a lot of empty thank yous and gushing compliments from people they had never met but had to act like were old friends.
But the after parties?
Now those are a different story.
After parties for album launch parties were where the fun actually was, living up to their label as a 'party'.
And that's where Rumi finds herself, heavy bass thumping in her ears and making her blood pulse in time with it. She's at some fancy club she doesn't remember the name of in Gangnam, surrounded by a bunch of young, rich K-Pop influencers and industry members alike.
HUNTR/X had just dropped their newest comeback album, following their three-month hiatus after their defeat of Gwi-Ma and subsequent saving of the world from having their souls eaten by demons—of course, no one knows that besides them, Celine, and Bobby.
(The conversation with Bobby had been awkward to say the least.
Rumi, Mira, and Zoey all felt like they owed him some kind of explanation, especially because the last thing he probably remembered before waking up in Namsan Tower was HUNTR/X breaking up live on stage when demon-Mira and demon-Zoey had forcibly exposed Rumi's patterns to the world.
He had taken the news surprisingly well, silent and incredulous through the entire explanation, going slack-jawed with disbelief when they had summoned their weapons from the Honmoon to prove that they weren't just pulling his leg.
"Well," he had said slowly, eyeing each of their spiritual weapons with a mix of awe and apprehension. "I guess that does explain why you three seemed to hate the Saja Boys so much.")
And while after parties are fun, Rumi knows she'd be having a lot more fun if she could figure out where the fuck her girlfriends went.
Admittedly, she's pretty drunk. One of the consequences of being who the album-launch-party-after-party was for, she supposes. Everyone around her was coming up to her, congratulating her and her bandmates (girlfriends, Rumi always wants to correct) for their successful release and insisting on taking a shot with her. And who is she to refuse?
Somewhere in the haze and shuffle of bodies and movement, the music loud and room crowded, Rumi had lost track of Mira and Zoey. It was somewhere between tequila shot number four and being pulled into an impromptu duet with a leader of another girl group that Rumi thinks she lost them.
Somewhere in her foggy mind, Rumi admonishes herself for drinking tequila of all things, knowing just how hard it hits her. But when Zoey had asked her earlier if she wanted to do body shots off of her and Mira as a "reward" for leading them to yet another successful era of HUNTR/X, the thought of doing anything but wholeheartedly agreeing never even occurred to Rumi. Security at these parties was tight, and Rumi's confident that no paparazzi had managed to sneak in—and that she wasn't going to end up on the cover of every tabloid magazine across South Korea by morning.
At least, that's what she tells herself as she runs her tongue up the toned lines of Mira's abs and laps the salt from her warm, slightly sweaty skin.
She flops down on a couch next to the bar and pulls out her phone, grumbling as it gets caught in the back pocket of her tight leather pants for a second before she manages to wrench it free. She's distracted for a second by her lock screen, feeling a goofy, drunken grin settle on her face as she looks at the photo. It's a picture of the three of them Bobby had taken in the studio last month when they were recording their album—all three of them have their headphones slung around their necks, and Zoey is in the middle of them, cheesing hard with her eyes squeezed shut as she squishes Rumi and Mira's cheeks to hers.
Rumi's arms are wrapped around her waist, caught mid-laugh, and Mira has one hand laced with Rumi's where it rests on Zoey's stomach and the other curled around Zoey's neck. She's glancing down at the two of them with undisguised fondness, and it makes Rumi's heart beat double-time just from looking at it.
Shaking herself out of her trance, she swipes up on the screen to unlock it and thumbs over to her messages. She clicks into their group chat—appropriately named "Poly Pockets"—and begins to attempt to type out a coherent message.
The letters are swimming on her screen though, and she closes one eye and squints to try to pin them down long enough to type. She sticks her tongue out in concentration, slowly but surely writing a text to her girlfriends.
Poly Pockets 💜 💙 🩷
12:14 AM
Where did u gusy go i misd u :(
My Moon 🌙 💖 —
zoey lost titanic 3 times in a row, im holding her hair while she pukes
r u ok?
Awwweeww im sry zozo :(
Im ok ! I jyst missd u nd wnated to find u
My Moon 🌙 💖 —
aww we miss u too tiger 💜
where r u? shes brushing her teeth now, we'll come find u
On one of teh big sofas bt the bra
Bar lol oops
The one near the phootbooth
My Moon 🌙 💖—
got it, just stay put love we're otw
Rumi locks her phone and slips it back into her pocket, relaxing into the soft couch and tilting her head back. Her eyes slip shut, the drowsy haze of alcohol beckoning her to sleep even with the blaring music and bright, multicolored lights flashing around her.
The current song that's playing fades out, transitioning into one of the tracks from their newest album. Rumi hears the crowd of people cheer, and her lips curl in a small, self-satisfied smile. Even though the people in the room were all influencers, industry members, other idols, et cetera, and not actual fans, it still feels nice to be recognized and cheered for.
Rumi feels the couch next to her dip as a weight settles on it, and she blinks open her eyes, her small smile transforming into a bright, beaming grin as she turns to who she assumes are Mira and Zoey. She falters though, blinking in surprise, as she turns to someone who is decidedly not either of her girlfriends.
Instead, a tall, well-built young man sits next to her. He looks to be in his mid-twenties if Rumi had to guess, dressed in a pair of sleek black slacks and a navy blue button down with the sleeves rolled up. His shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing a bright silver chain that glints in the neon lights and a hint of a smooth, muscular chest.
His dark hair is slicked back, and when he smiles at her, his teeth are dazzlingly white. Rumi vaguely recognizes him, her inebriated mind unable to quite pin down who he might be, but she at least knows he's some sort of influencer.
"Ryu Rumi," he says, voice deep and rich as it cuts through the noise. "It's an honor to finally get to meet you. Jung Ha-joon," he offers a hand in greeting, and Rumi shakes it politely. Even in her drunken state, the manners that Celine had been drilling into her since she was old enough to walk are like second nature.
"The pleasure is mine," she replies. Her wide, dorky grin is gone, replaced with something practiced and perfected. The smile she used for interviews and photoshoots, not the one that was reserved for Zoey and Mira. Instinctively, she sits up, squaring her shoulders and sitting ramrod straight on the couch. The name rings a vague bell in her fuzzy mind, and she finally manages to put her finger on who he is:
Jung Ha-joon, the latest up-and-coming influencer in the K-Pop world. His good looks and charming persona had won him internet fame, and Rumi is pretty sure he's known for his 'real' and 'raw' interactions with idols, providing glimpses into their day-to-day lives and making them feel more 'human' to their fans.
She also knows that all three of them had gotten bad vibes from him immediately, and Bobby had gone out of his way to keep him away from any and all events or fan signings that HUNTR/X appeared at. How he had managed to get on the guest list for their party is beyond her, and she makes a mental note to let Bobby and Celine know to look into it.
Hackles up, Rumi does her best to clear her foggy mind, cursing herself for that last bottle of soju she had polished off with Bobby and a few members of their marketing team.
"So, how does it feel to finally have stepped into this new era of Huntrix?" He asks, leaning forward and propping his elbow up on his thigh, resting his chin in his palm. "Quite the edgy change, I must say. The tattoos were an unexpected mix-up." Ha-joon nods at her markings, or 'tattoos', as the public had been told, glimmering iridescently in the club lights.
Rumi swallows down the annoyance bubbling in her throat, willing herself not to get emotional enough to light up like a mood ring. That would be hard to explain.
"Oh, you know," Rumi says noncommittally, waving her hand. "The three of us decided that it was time for a big change, that we wanted to really express our individuality not just as a group, but as people." It's a rehearsed answer, crafted carefully and practiced and given out to anyone who asked about their apparent 'change in direction'.
Ha-joon laughs, tilting his head and leaning a little closer. Rumi shifts backwards on instinct.
"Now Rumi, we're friends, aren't we?" His voice is honeyed and smooth. Rumi has to fight the way her lip twitches up into a snarl on instinct. "I want to know the real reason, not what you've been told to say." He shifts closer again, reaching out to rest a hand on her knee, and it takes everything in Rumi not to knock his lights out right then and there.
"I'm not sure what you mean," Rumi forces herself to keep her voice level, polite smile still fixed firmly in place, if a little sharper now. "Like I said, the three of us—"
"No, I know what you said," Ha-joon cuts her off, waving his hand in what looks dangerously close to annoyance. "I'm asking you to give me your personal answer. I want to know what Ryu Rumi has to say about this new version of Huntrix, not Sunlight Entertainment." That saccharine sweet smile is back, dripping with fake friendliness. Rumi feels her temper start to flare, and she opens her mouth to snap at him to get the fuck away from her, manners be damned.
Zoey always says that alcohol makes her feisty.
But before she has the chance to, she feels a firm hand on her shoulder, gripping it lightly. Possessively.
"Is there a problem over here?" The smooth, deep voice of Mira washes over Rumi like a cool ocean wave on a hot day. She glances to the side to see Mira towering over the two of them, not even bothering to hide the disdain on her face. Ha-joon has the good sense to snatch his hand back from Rumi's knee before Mira can bite it off.
She's dressed in fitted black pants, a white crop top that ends just above the bottom of her ribcage, and a matching black jacket. Her silver jewelry gleams from all over, around her neck, on her fingers, in her ears, even from her bellybutton where she had recently gotten it pierced.
Blood-red heels give her already impressive height a few extra inches, and it allows her to loom even more threateningly over Ha-joon.
On Rumi's left, Zoey leans over the back of the couch, effectively putting herself between the two of them. She still looks a little pale, and her eye makeup is just the slightest bit smudged, but her gaze is sharp and territorial as she flashes Ha-joon a sickly sweet smile.
The already-plunging neckline of the short red dress she's wearing drops further from the way she's leaning over the couch, one of the straps slipping off her shoulder, and Rumi has to fight for her life to keep her eyes trained on her face.
"There you are, Ru. We were wondering where you had gotten to," Zoey says, pressing a kiss to Rumi's cheek and fixing Ha-joon with a cool stare. Rumi's head is swimming at this point, the haze of alcohol and the way her girlfriends are practically claiming her in front of some douchebag right now making it hard to think straight.
She'd managed to sober up a little when Ha-joon had first sat down to avoid saying something stupid or revealing, but now the intoxication is hitting her again full-force. She sways towards Zoey after she kisses her cheek, unconsciously chasing the feeling. Zoey chuckles next to her and curls a hand around the back of her neck—comforting and grounding, but also just as possessive as Mira's hand that still grips her shoulder.
It makes a shudder run through Rumi, heat pooling between her thighs.
While Zoey always said alcohol made her feisty, Mira always said it made her horny.
Ha-joon blinks, momentarily taken aback, before his easy smile slides back into place—though it's a little sharper than before.
"Ah, the other members of Huntrix!" He exclaims, spreading his arms as if to gesture grandly at them. "Truly, this is quite the honor." He dips his head low, but his glittering gaze never leaves Mira. He holds out his hand again. "Jung Ha-jo—"
"I know who you are," Mira cuts him off, voice blunt and uninterested. She's drunk too, Rumi realizes. Not nearly as drunk as her, but drunk enough that her filter—which was flimsy at the best of times—had all but dissolved. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" Ha-joon repeats, looking thrown and a little irked by Mira's clear unwillingness to play the niceties game. He rescinds his rejected handshake and laughs, but it sounds forced and fake. "Nothing! Rumi and I were just chatting about your newest era. She was just about to let me in on the truth behind this new, edgy version of Huntrix, right Rumi?"
"Huh?" Rumi blinks, the sound of her name shaking her out of the decidedly R-rated scenarios she had been running through in her head involving Zoey and Mira bending her over the arm of the couch she's sitting on and fucking her until she cried. Her mind stumbles, trying to catch up with what's going on, but the alcohol is really starting to get to her, and Zoey and Mira being so protective over her is only making her feel even more intoxicated.
"Rumi," Mira cuts in, turning to look at her. Rumi preens inwardly at the way she sees Mira's eyes instantly soften, her razor-sharp gaze melting into something gentle and warm. Both hands come up to rest on her shoulders, and Rumi sees Zoey shift out of the corner of her eye, watching Ha-joon closely. "Did you want to keep talking to him?"
"Um," the gears in Rumi's foggy brain feel rusted, struggling to turn and form a coherent response to give, and she feels like she's short-circuiting. "No," she says simply instead, unable to come up with a clever out or polite way to excuse herself.
"Well, there you go, she doesn't want to keep talking to you," Mira fixes Ha-joon with a venomous smile of her own, tight-lipped and threatening, and tugs gently on Rumi's shoulders to urge her to stand. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we'd really like to get back to celebrating at our own party."
Rumi starts to get up, but Ha-joon's hand shoots out and snatches her wrist.
"Rumi, tell your girlfriend to stop being a fucking bi—"
CRACK.
The rest of his sentence is cut off by a howl of pain as he stumbles backwards back onto the couch, clutching a now-bloody nose and cursing loudly.
Rumi jumps at the sudden flurry of movement and the subsequent yelling, instinctively beginning to look at Mira before she realizes that her hands are still firmly on her shoulders. Flabbergasted, she turns to her other girlfriend.
Zoey is standing in front of her and Mira, one knee resting on the couch she had vaulted over, breathing hard and lowering her blood spattered fist. She looks angrier than Rumi thinks she's ever seen her, face dark as a thunder cloud and lips curled into a snarl.
"Fuck you," she spits, anger and rage making her short stature seem to tower over Ha-joon, who is still clutching his likely broken nose and cowering on the couch. "Don't you dare talk to Mira that way or lay a finger on Rumi."
"What the fuck!" Ha-joon yells, glaring up at her. "You broke my fucking nose, you crazy bitch!"
"Yeah, and if I ever see you again I'll kick your goddamn teeth in," Zoey hisses. Her eyes are downright burning, fueled by a rage Rumi didn't know she was capable of. "Now get the fuck out."
Ha-joon mumbles something else under his breath, but he has enough sense to scramble to his feet and dart away into the crowd. A few people around them are gawking at the spectacle, but no one says anything, and everyone else is either too drunk to care or didn't even notice the scuffle happening in the corner.
Rumi gapes at Zoey as she glares after him, clutching her quickly-bruising fist and wincing a little. She turns to Mira and Rumi, smiling sheepishly when she sees the thunderstruck looks on their faces.
"Sorry," she mumbles, looking faintly embarrassed. As quick as it had come, her rage is gone, leaving their usual, sweet Zoey in its place. "You guys know I get a little intense when I drink, and I was gonna let him walk away, honest, but when he grabbed you Rumi, and said that about Mira, I just—God, I just couldn't—"
"Zoey," Mira interrupts her, voice level and deceptively calm.
"Yeah?" Zoey asks, blinking in confusion.
"I need you to fuck me and Rumi, like, now."
"Oh!" Zoey squeaks, flushing so deeply that Rumi can see it even in the low, multicolored lighting of the club. Rumi nods so hard in agreement at Mira's words that she can hear her earrings clinking as they knock into each other.
"I'm about to get on my knees in front of everyone here," Rumi says honestly. She feels her cheeks heat up, but she's too drunk and turned on to care.
"Okay, yep, let's go," Zoey says, herding them towards the back exit as quickly as she can. They weave their way through the crowd, avoiding interactions as much as possible and keeping them brief when they're inevitably stopped by yet another person who wants to congratulate them. After it happens for the fourth time, Rumi is seriously considering telling the next person who tries to talk to them that they're keeping her from getting railed into the mattress by her girlfriend.
Luckily, no one else stops them, and after Mira slips off momentarily to tell Bobby that they were leaving and ask him to cover for them—as well as inform him on what happened with Ha-joon so he can work his magic and take care of it—the three of them are skidding down the back stairway. They're giggling and breathless like teenagers as they trip over their own feet to get to the car waiting for them outside.
The door is just barely closed before Rumi feels Zoey's lips on hers. She's pulled into a bruising kiss, melting and parting her lips immediately for Zoey to do as she pleases. Luckily, the partition between the backseat and the driver had already been closed, the their chauffeur knows where they're going.
Rumi feels a warm shape slip behind her, and she can't help the moan that slips into Zoey's mouth when Mira presses the length of her torso to Rumi's back, her lips immediately on her throat and jaw.
Rumi's head is still spinning the entire ride home, and she doesn't know if it's from the alcohol or the way Mira and Zoey are overwhelming her in the best possible way.
What she does know is that she barely has time to take her shoes off after stumbling out of the elevator to their penthouse before Zoey is snatching her and Mira by the wrists and dragging them off to their bedroom.
Derpy and Sussie are asleep in the living room, and Sussie makes a sound that sounds suspiciously like a gag upon seeing the state they enter in. He squawks in Derpy's ear and tugs on his fur until he wakes up, looking confused as Sussie pecks him in the forehead until he teleports them away.
There's a flurry of movement in the bedroom, hushed, hungry whispers and growls and pawing hands stripping each other haphazardly of their clothes, and suddenly Rumi is naked on their bed, on her knees with her face pressed into Mira's chest as Zoey fucks her roughly with two fingers.
She whimpers and whines and knows she sounds absolutely pathetic, but she can't bring herself to care. Not with the way Zoey is hitting that sensitive spot deep inside of her with every expert thrust, curling her fingers to drag along her inner walls on the way out every time.
The buzz of alcohol is fading from her system, but it's being replaced with the heady, even more intoxicating sensation of being taken by her girlfriends. Mira is laying beneath her with her leg bent upwards so that her thigh is pressed against Rumi's clit, and Zoey's free hand is gripping her hip and urging her to grind against it with every thrust.
Rumi sees stars behind her eyelids with each movement, her breathing already ragged and wrecked.
"God, you look so fucking good like this," Zoey says from behind her, voice low and raspy. "You're so fucking pretty, Rumi." She punctuates her sentence with a particularly hard thrust that makes Rumi keen and bury her face further into Mira's chest.
She feels a low chuckle rumble through it, and Mira brings a hand up to trail her nails lightly over her back in a way that makes goosebumps erupt all over Rumi's body.
"So pretty," Mira repeats, laying an almost chaste kiss against the top of her head, "and all ours."
That word—ours—sends a dizzying spike of heat through Rumi, and she doesn't even try to stifle the moan that spills from her lips.
"I don't know who that fucking clown—" Zoey snaps her wrist so harshly that Rumi's legs almost give out, "—thinks he is, but he should know better than to even think about laying a finger on you. You're mine, Rumi. Mine and Mira's."
The sound that leaves Rumi's lips is wanton and filthy, and she doesn't have it in her to feel the slightest bit embarrassed.
"Yours," she stutters out, voice high and breathy. "Yours, yours, yours." She chants the word like an oath, like a promise. The way Zoey is claiming her fills her with an unimaginable heat, like someone had replaced the blood in her veins with gasoline and set it ablaze.
Her thighs begin to shake so hard that she can barely hold herself up anymore, and she knows she's close. She can feel the wave of her orgasm looming over her, threatening to crash down at any moment. She's still mumbling 'yours' as Zoey fucks her, and then she feels Mira's lips next to her ear.
"You like being ours?" She asks, low and sultry. Rumi moans again, nodding frantically against her chest. Another low chuckle makes her cheek vibrate. "Good, because we like it too. You belong to us, tiger. Every single fucking inch of you is ours."
As if to drive her point home, the nails that had been running softly over Rumi's back suddenly dig in as Mira rakes them down her shoulder blades, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Then her knee presses against her clit, hard, and Rumi's vision goes white as a shriek tears from her lips.
Her climax hits her like a freight train, slamming into her with a brutal force that makes her entire body tremble. Her thighs snap shut around Zoey's hand, shaking violently, and she feels like her nervous system is being rebooted. Everything is numb for a second, every other sensation blurred out by the overwhelming crescendo of pleasure she's feeling claw its way through her body.
Rumi is vaguely aware of the fact that her lips are moving, but she's not really sure if she's even saying words anymore or just making high, broken sounds. Her heart is thundering so hard that she can hear it over the deafening ring in her ears, but her limbs feel like they're filled with TV static and she's unable to do anything more than ride wave after wave of her orgasm.
It feels like her patterns are burning beneath her skin, lines of fire arcing along her body and following each and every curving line. She's sure that they're sparking and shining with color right now, turning the bedroom into a dazzling display of technicolor lights.
She doesn't know how long she stays suspended in her state of bliss, floating weightlessly in a white-hot sea of her own pleasure with Zoey and Mira's words the only thing cutting through the haze. They rattle around in her brain, playing on repeat like a broken record; mine. Ours. Mine. Ours. Ours, ours, ours.
Yours, she thinks desperately, answering the echoing voices in her head. She sounds pathetic, even to her own mind, but she doesn't care. She can't care. Not when just the memory of their possessive, heat-laced words to her is enough to make another shudder rack her body and send another trembling aftershock through her.
Slowly, slowly, her galloping heart slows and she manages to control her breathing. Her hearing fades back in, like she had taken cotton out of her ears, and her mouth feels dry as she blearily blinks her eyes open.
It takes her a second to register her surroundings, but when she does, the sight is almost enough to make her finish again.
Mira had slipped out from under her at some point and is now sprawled next to her, half-propped up against the headboard. Zoey is between her legs eating her out like her life depends on it, her nails digging into Mira's thighs where she's hooked them over her shoulders. Mira's hands are buried in Zoey's hair, keeping her pressed tight against her, and her head is thrown back as breathy moans escape her.
"Fuck, Zoey—please baby, that's so good, I'm so close," Mira chokes out, and Rumi can see the way Zoey immediately begins to work double-time, fingers tightening even more around her thighs as she pushes them a little further back to get an even deeper angle. Mira thrashes on the bed, breathing erratic and shallow, and then Zoey reaches up with one hand to press on her lower abdomen, just below her bellybutton, and Mira cums with a strangled cry.
Her thighs clamp around Zoey's head like a bear trap, ankles crossed behind her neck, and Rumi watches in awe as Mira—stoic, cool, composed Mira—comes apart at the seams with wavering, trembling little cries and breathy sobs. Rumi's seen it before, and she knows she'll see it again, but she's confident that the sight of watching one of the strongest women she knows be taken apart by her and Zoey's hands and mouths will never get old.
Rumi reaches out clumsily to rest her hand on Mira's stomach, tracing shaky patterns on her skin as the arch in her back relaxes and she comes down from her high. Zoey taps her thigh, a little frantic, and comes up with a dramatic gasp when Mira releases her from her iron grip.
"Oh thank God, I thought I was done for down there," she says breathlessly, grinning goofily at Mira. Her mouth and chin are soaked, and she wipes it on the back of hand before leaning down to press a kiss to Mira's lips. Mira rolls her eyes at her antics, but her breathing is still heavy and her cheeks are still flushed and she melts into the kiss anyways.
Rumi can't help the petulant little whine that bubbles up from her throat, pawing weakly at Mira's side. Her limbs still feel like jelly and she doesn't think she can sit up, and though she's mostly sobered up by this point, her head still buzzes a little with the dregs of the alcohol she had drank.
Zoey and Mira break their kiss, blinking down at her with affection and mild surprise.
"Hey tiger," Zoey says, sliding off of Mira to pull Rumi partially into her lap. With a grunt of effort, Mira hauls herself onto her side and throws and arm around Rumi's waist, nuzzling her nose against her cheek and pressing a soft kiss there.
"How are you feeling, baby?" Mira asks, her voice a little raspy from the moans Zoey had just pulled from her. Her eyelids are heavy, and Rumi can see a similar, satisfied exhaustion settling into her bones that matches the one Rumi feels in hers.
"'M okay," Rumi mumbles, pressing her cheek against Zoey's bare stomach where she's cradling her carefully. She feels Zoey laugh softly and her fingers being to card through Rumi's hair, pulling a soft, stuttering purr from her chest.
"Just okay?" Zoey asks playfully. Rumi gives a small whine of protest when she shifts her, but Zoey hushes her and adjusts so that she's laying down on her other side, sandwiching Rumi between her and Mira.
"I'm good, Zo. Really good," she sighs, relaxing further into the mattress between the two of them. Zoey props herself up on her elbow to look down at her and Mira, and Mira scoots so that Rumi's head is tucked under her chin, tangling their legs and pressing lingering, drowsy kisses to the top of her head.
They're silent for a little bit, Zoey gazing down at her and Mira with undisguised affection as Rumi closes her eyes and lets herself melt further into Mira's warmth.
"Sorry I punched that guy and ruined our party," Zoey says quietly, and Rumi's eyelids flutter open in surprise. She glances up at Zoey, feeling her heart twinge at the guilty look on her face.
"Hey, Zo, you didn't ruin anything," Rumi reassures her, reaching up to cup her cheek, albeit a little clumsily, and stroke her thumb soothingly under her eye.
"That guy was a total dick, he had it coming," Mira grumbles from her spot on the other side of Rumi. She lets go of Rumi's waist to reach for Zoey's hand and laces their fingers together. "To be honest, I'd been looking for an excuse to leave ever since you two did body shots off of each other," Mira chuckles, the sound rich and soothing to Rumi's ears. "Blame it on the alcohol, but I was seriously considering faking a medical emergency just so we could go home where I could get my hands on both of you."
Zoey laughs, swatting at her shoulder playfully.
"You're incorrigible," she chides, all warm affection and teasing.
"Says the one who just railed me into the mattress," Rumi mumbles, grinning a little to herself when Zoey's cheeks darken.
"I just couldn't stand the way he was talking to you, Ru," Zoey says, brows furrowing a little. "And when he called Mira a bitch, and then he grabbed you? God, he's lucky I only punched him instead of stabbing him with my shin-kals." A hint of the thunderous anger from earlier creeps back onto Zoey's face. "Nobody gets to treat my girls like that and get away with it."
And Rumi feels another gentle rush of heat lap at her at Zoey's words—'my girls'—and she shifts a little, thighs rubbing together unconsciously. She winces a little at the sticky mess she can feel drying there, and Mira hums against her back.
"Watching you punch that guy was hot, babe," Mira says honestly. The anger on Zoey's face is replaced with a small, self-satisfied grin. "Plus," her voice drops an octave, and she leans down so that her breath brushes over Rumi's ear in a way that makes her shiver. "It seems like our pretty little tiger really liked how possessive you got." She nods at Zoey's hand, which still partially glistens all the way down to her wrist from how hard Rumi had came.
Rumi makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a whine, and she turns her head to bury her now-burning face into the sheets.
"Shut up," she grumbles, voice slightly muffled by the fabric. She hears them both chuckle softly and presses her face harder into the bed, feeling her ears flame.
"Aw, c'mon Ru, it was cute," she hears Zoey say. Rumi just groans in response, face still resolutely hidden. It's starting to get hard to breathe, but her pride is stronger than her need for oxygen.
"Yeah, we like how badly you want to be ours," Mira purrs into her ear. Rumi groans again, this time strangled and higher-pitched, and swats blindly at Mira. She feels her laugh rumble against her back and lips press playfully to the side of her head.
"Rumi," Zoey sing-songs, running her hand up and down her side. Rumi stubbornly refuses to respond, determined to die on this hill of her own making.
She hears Zoey sigh and thinks she's given up, before suddenly the hand brushing along her skin becomes mercilessly tickling fingers.
Immediately, Rumi shrieks and tries to twist away from her, but Mira wraps her up tight in a bear hug and holds her still while Zoey attacks her sides and belly.
"Stop! Zoey!" Rumi begs through breathless laughter, squirming and contorting to try and escape. It's no use, Mira's grip is iron and leaves her completely at Zoey's mercy.
"Not until you admit it!" Zoey says, digging her fingers into the sensitive spot on Rumi's side that makes Rumi's entire body seize up.
"Okay, okay, fine!" Rumi wheezes. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she can feel tears escaping from under her lids and her stomach hurts from how hard she's laughing. She's genuinely afraid she might suffocate if she doesn't give into Zoey and Mira's demands. "I admit it, okay?! I do like when you guys get all possessive over me, happy?"
The tickling fingers cease, and Rumi gasps in relief and blinks open her eyes to glare up at Zoey. She's grinning down at her smugly, a wide shit-eating grin stretched across her lips that Rumi has half a mind to smack off of her face.
"Very happy," Zoey says.
"Was that so hard?" Mira asks, releasing Rumi from the prison of her long limbs. Rumi grumbles to herself but doesn't move out of her embrace.
"It's embarrassing," she whines.
"Why?" Mira asks simply. She props herself up fully on the headboard, opening her arms and gesturing for Rumi to curl into her side. Rumi does so slowly, taking the time to think of her answer while she settles herself into Mira. Zoey scoots up on the other side of her, hooking her chin over her shoulder and looking up at her patiently. She stretches her arm as far as she can to drape over both Rumi and Mira, but she only makes it to about Mira's midsection before she runs out of length.
Mira laughs quietly, eyes full of affection, and Zoey grumbles something under her breath about a 'stupid sexy flamingo'. Mira laces their fingers together where her hand rests on her abdomen and Zoey is immediately placated.
They both turn their eyes to her, and Rumi realizes they're still waiting for an answer.
And honestly, Rumi herself isn't super sure.
Why did it embarrass her so much about how thoroughly she enjoyed them getting possessive? It's no secret that she thinks it's hot when they get angry and jealous—hell, they all do—because that means they want her that badly. But she already knows how badly they want her, how much they love her. Rumi has spent most of her life hiding and never feeling good enough—for herself, for Celine, for the entire world sometimes.
But she knows Mira and Zoey have never seen her as lesser, have never thought she wasn't good enough. Even when she was still hiding her patterns, she was afraid that if they knew they would start to see her as less than, not that they already did. Because even then, Zoey and Mira were the only people in the world who loved her wholeheartedly and without judgement (besides maybe Bobby), and Rumi was terrified for them to see her any differently.
As lesser, as a threat, as a monster.
As a problem to deal with.
Even when they had raised their weapons at her, the intent to hurt wasn't there.
Even when she had run, even when the Honmoon had crumbled, even when they heard Gwi-Ma's voice whispering in their ears and luring them to Namsan Tower, they hadn't thought less of her.
Rumi knows they didn't. Not with the way their souls had immediately lit up for her in the audience, two shining beacons of light, how her voice alone was enough to wake them from the hypnotic trance they were trapped in.
They had been scared and angry and confused, but never once did they see her as anything but someone they loved. Someone who was enough.
So no, despite everything, Rumi has always been sure of their love for her.
So where did the embarrassment come from? Why was she so self-conscious about them knowing the extent of it?
"I don't know," she says quietly, honestly. Mira and Zoey don't say anything, they just wait patiently for her to continue. "I guess I feel kinda stupid? Like, obviously you guys want me, it's not like you being possessive is confirming that or something. I just…" she trails off again, a little frustrated. "I don't know."
It feels a little like there's something she's not admitting to herself, that she wants something more, but for the life of her she can't put her finger on it.
"That's okay, Ru," Zoey says kindly, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck where her head is resting on her shoulder. "You don't have to know, sometimes there's not a reason for why we feel things we just… do."
"Yeah," Mira chimes in. Rumi feels her tighten her hold around her body and it softens her frustration. "But you know you never have to feel embarrassed for anything around us, right?"
"We're all into some freaky shit, don't worry," Zoey giggles.
"Oh yeah?" Mira asks, raising her brow at Zoey. "Care to share with the class?"
"Nope!" Zoey squeaks, her ears going red. She buries her face in Rumi's neck like it'll save her from the conversation.
"Aww, c'mon now Zo, you can't expect Rumi to admit to things if you won't," Mira teases, poking her belly gently. "It's okay, we already knew you were an absolute freak."
Zoey glares at Mira.
"Yeah yeah, laugh it up," Zoey's mouth curves into a wicked grin. "By the way Mir, saw your browser history the other day."
Mira's smile morphs into a look of sheer horror, all of the color draining from her face for a second before it flushes bright red. Rumi and Zoey burst out laughing at her expression, clutching each other and wheezing loudly.
"Shut up!" Mira shrieks, voice shrill and embarrassed. "Shut up shut up shut up!" She grabs a discarded pillow and beings swinging it over Rumi's head to beat Zoey with repeatedly. "Why were you going through my browser history you creep?!"
"I was trying to find that cute turtle video you showed me!" Zoey squeals, trying to use Rumi as a human shield. "It's not my fault you don't use incognito mode when you're looking up freaky shit like a normal person!"
Rumi just laughs harder, feeling her stomach start to cramp from how hard she's giggling. Mira lets out a dramatic groan and flops back down on her side of the bed, pressing the pillow over her face to hide her blush.
"You're lucky I love you so much," she mutters, a little muffled from the pillow covering her mouth.
"Yeah, cause I eat you out like a fucking champ," Zoey grins. Mira groans again and lifts the pillow to glare at Zoey, but Rumi can see the corners of her mouth twitching as she tries not to smile.
"Whatever," she huffs, removing the pillow fully and wrapping herself back around Rumi. "God forbid I want to get a little kinky with my girls."
"No one said you can't get kinky with us," Rumi laughs, nuzzling her nose into Mira's neck. "You just have to tell us what it is first."
"Trust me, we'd love to get kinky with you, Mir," Zoey adds helpfully.
"Um," Mira says hesitantly, and Rumi leans back to look at her face. She's blushing still, and she avoids eye contact with both of them in the way Rumi knows she does when she's truly embarrassed or uncomfortable. "I will eventually, just… maybe not right now, if that's okay?"
"Of course it is, pretty girl," Zoey says softly, reaching over Rumi and cupping Mira's cheek lovingly. The teasing is gone from her eyes, replaced with nothing but genuine affection.
"You're safe with us, Mir," Rumi punctuates her words with a kiss to her shoulder and traces soothing circles on her abdomen, the kind she knows Mira likes because they ground her.
"I know," she says simply. Her eyes close and she leans into Zoey's palm, sighing heavily through her nose, and Rumi feels her body relax. Her hand comes up to rest on top of Zoey's, giving it a firm squeeze when—
"Ow!" Zoey yelps, yanking her hand away like she'd been burned. Rumi jumps, turning to look at her.
"Zo?" Mira asks, bewildered.
"Sorry, sorry, I just—" Zoey hisses as she shakes her hand out before holding it up for them to see, smiling sheepishly.
Her knuckles are painted black and blue, dark bruises covering the length of them and extending up her fingers a little. Rumi shoots upright, grabbing Zoey's wrist to look closer at the back of her hand. Zoey lets out a little grunt of pain and Rumi swipes her thumb over the soft skin on the inside of her wrist in apology.
"Jesus, Zoey," Rumi says, taking in the sight of Zoey's discolored hand. "I didn't know it was this bad, why didn't you say anything?!"
Zoey shrugs.
"Had more important things to do," she waggles her eyebrows, and Rumi rolls her eyes but feels her traitorous patterns spark faintly pink. Mira sits up too, looking over Rumi's shoulder to see Zoey's hand and winces in sympathy.
"How hard did you punch that guy, babe?" She asks with an incredulous laugh.
"I dunno," she mumbles, looking half-embarrassed, half-pleased with herself. "I was still lowkey drunk even though I threw up, and I was really pissed at that guy so… pretty fucking hard, I'd say."
"That's my girl," Mira says, all warm pride. Zoey beams at her, grin wide and goofy. Rumi looks between them, and she feels like her heart might burst from her chest with how full of love it is.
"We need to get some ice on that, Zo," Rumi says. Zoey groans dramatically and tips forward so that her forehead is resting on Rumi's bare chest.
"But cuddles," she pouts, breaking out her patented puppy dog eyes and jutting out her lower lip. Rumi screams internally, fighting for her life against the look.
"We'll cuddle after, let's get cleaned up and ice your hand and then we can all get back in the bed and snuggle. You can even be in the middle, since you're our big strong protector," Mira says enticingly. Zoey considers the offer with a hum, before nodding.
"Deal, but only if I get to wash the body glitter off of your boobs."
Mira barks out a surprised laugh and reaches out to flick Zoey in the forehead.
"Fine," she says, and Zoey fist-pumps and jumps from the bed like a spring-loaded toy. She immediately stumbles a little, grabbing the bed to right herself.
"Oop, okay, still a little drunk," she laughs. Rumi laughs too, and she's sure Mira is rolling her eyes behind her with that fond expression she always wore when Zoey got up to her antics.
Rumi's legs still feel a little like jelly, and her haze of alcohol hasn't quite worn off either, so they help her out of the bed and to the bathroom to clean off.
(Mira keeps her promise and lets an overenthusiastic Zoey thoroughly scrub the glitter off of her boobs.)
Later, as she's lying in bed on one side of Zoey and listening to Mira's little snores, their words come whispering back into her mind.
Ours. Ours. Ours.
She feels her cheeks heat up and she buries her face further into Zoey's shirt where she's curled herself into her side. The room is dark, save for the faint blue glow of Derpy's fur where he's balled up asleep in his giant custom cat bed they'd built for him beside their own bed so he didn't feel left out. He and Sussie had returned while they were icing Zoey's hand, and Rumi could see the judgment in all six of Sussie's eyes as he settled down in one of his various nests.
Opposite of her, Mira is mirroring her position, face a little higher so that her head is tucked under Zoey's chin. Her lips are parted as she snores softly, which she vehemently denies doing, and a few strands of her pink hair have come loose from her ponytail and fallen over her face.
Rumi reaches out to tuck them behind her ear tenderly, letting her fingers graze her cheek as her hand retreats.
Above her, Zoey shifts and mumbles something in her sleep before tightening her grip on both of them. She had insisted that she be holding both of them when they went to sleep because she 'needed to protect them from any nightmares, duh'.
All three of them have their legs tangled together between them, and Rumi genuinely doesn't know whose cold foot is trapped between her calves and whose thigh she has her knee hooked over. All she knows is that they're warm, together, and safe.
Zoey and Mira had long since fallen asleep, basically as soon as the lights went out, and Rumi can feel the pull of it too, but something keeps her from giving in.
She's sobered up completely by now, and she can tell from the faint throbbing she can already feel behind her eyes that she's going to wake up with a wicked headache. She's tired in a bone-deep, satisfying way, not only from the sex but also from a night full of excitement and fun—minus the dickhead that Zoey punched, which, to be honest, was kinda worth the harassment just to see Zoey deck him.
But despite it all, her mind still races, and Zoey and Mira's voices still swirl through her thoughts, chorusing the same word over and over.
Ours.
Yours, Rumi answers back in her mind helplessly, hoping that maybe it'd be enough to silence the voices. It's not, if anything they get even louder and more insistent.
You're ours Rumi, you belong to us.
A small shiver runs down Rumi's spine, and she has to bite down on the whimper that threatens to escape her lips.
There's something there, some realization that's just out of her reach, infuriatingly close but slipping through her fingers like sand every time she tries to grasp at it. It's like she's asking for something without knowing what she's asking for, wanting something without knowing what it is.
It's frustrating, and Rumi wills herself to block it out so she can just sleep. She's exhausted, and the annoyingly cryptic messages her brain is trying to send her are only adding to her headache.
She takes a few deep, steadying breaths in the way Mira had once taught her, focusing on the two of them and grounding herself in the feeling of their warmth pressed against her. Slowly, reluctantly, the voices retreat to the back of her mind, and Rumi can't help but let out a sleepy sigh of relief.
She knows her brain is trying to tell her something important, but whatever it is is locked away in her subconscious, and honestly? Rumi's really fucking tired, and her girlfriends are really fucking warm and comfy, and she knows she's going to have a raging hangover when she wakes up, so she ignores the faint prodding and focuses on the slow, steady rise and fall of Zoey's chest beneath her cheek and Mira's warm breaths she can feel puffing against her forehead.
She'll have to deal with whatever it is eventually, but for the moment, Rumi is content to finally give into the tug of sleep and slip under the dark, comforting waves.
The second time Zoey and Mira claim her, Rumi thinks she might have an idea of what exactly she wants.
It's a week after the whole 'Zoey-punches-some-douchebag-at-a-party' incident, which luckily had been swept under the rug by Bobby and their talented PR team—and more than a few legal threats—and Ha-joon is officially blacklisted from any HUNTR/X event, no exceptions.
Rumi couldn't help but smirk at some of the comments she had seen under his latest Instagram post—where he was sporting a magnificently busted nose with medical tape holding it in place—expressing concern on what might have happened.
Not one of them think that he got punched by Zoey from HUNTR/X at their party, which Rumi takes as a win.
It's a Friday afternoon and they've been in the dance studio all day, practicing Mira's newest choreography for their latest album.
Rumi is sweaty, tired, and more than a little frustrated. They've been at it for hours, and Rumi is still messing up.
If she's not tripping over her feet, she's a half-beat behind, and if she's not a half-beat behind she's missing her mark on the floor. She thinks that after trying all day to learn the same routine she'd finally start to get it down, but she feels like she's getting worse.
"Step, two, three—keep the turn tighter Zoey—three, four," Mira claps her hands rhythmically to keep them on beat and barks orders like a drill sergeant. She's dressed only in a dark green sports bra and leggings, flushed and sweaty with her hair pulled back into a messy bun.
Normally, Rumi would be drooling over her, but right now she's much too frustrated to focus on anything except the way she steps a beat too early again.
The music cuts off abruptly, and Rumi tries to fight the way her hackles instinctively raise at what she knows is coming.
"Rumi," Mira says, squinting at her with her hands on her hips. "What is up with you today? We haven't managed to get through this entire routine a single time yet without any mistakes, and we've been here since noon."
Her words are blunt and direct, and Rumi knows they're not meant to wound or chastise her and that that's just the way Mira talks, but she feels her temper flare anyways.
"I'm trying, Mira," she growls, gritting her teeth and staring at the floor. Her fingers twitch, and from the corner of her eye she can see her patterns spark the faintest of reds.
"I'm not saying you're not," Mira replies, "but something isn't working if we still can't get this down."
She says 'if we can't get this down', but Rumi knows she really means 'if you can't get this down'. Mira's execution is obviously flawless, and Zoey's got it almost completely, minus a few mistakes here and there.
Her nostrils flare and she clenches her fists and wills herself to calm down.
She isn't trying to berate you, she thinks, she's just trying to help. She's frustrated and tired too. She's just trying to help.
She opens her mouth to agree, to apologize, to say she's tired and not on her A-game today, but instead what comes out is:
"Yeah, I'm what's not working."
It's cold and bitter and self-pitying, and Rumi hates the way it tastes on her tongue.
"Ru, don't say that about yourself," Zoey says, coming to rest her hand on her arm. Her oversized shirt is slipping off one of her shoulders and she's looking up at her with those big, soft brown eyes, but Rumi doesn't feel comforted, she feels pathetic.
"C'mon, Ru," Mira crosses her arms and steps closer so that she's directly in front of Rumi. "You know that's not true, if you would just—"
"Holy shit Mira, can you just hop off my fucking dick?!" Rumi snaps. The second the words leave her mouth she regrets it and she clamps a hand over her mouth in horror. Zoey looks shocked, but Mira… Mira only looks surprised for a second before she tilts her head a little, gaze glittering and unreadable as she rakes it over Rumi in a scorching once-over. It makes Rumi feel like prey, and a strange little thrill runs through her.
Mira stalks towards her, steps slow, measured, deliberate. She has Rumi pinned in place by just her stare, still unreadable but smoldering with heat. She stops a few inches away from her, nearly toe-to-toe, and tilts her head even further, like she's trying to figure Rumi out.
Then a slow, lazy smirk crawls onto her face, and Rumi is momentarily taken aback. Her hand falls slowly away from her mouth to hang limply at her side as she stands there, thoroughly confused but also kinda turned on?
The hot flash of frustration and anger roiling in her gut just a few moments ago has dropped lower. It still blazes the same way it had been, but instead of stoking her anger, it stokes something else.
From the corner of her eye, she can see Zoey looking between them nervously, gaze flicking back and forth with rapt attention like she doesn't know if she should break it up or wait to see what happens.
Rumi really hopes she chooses the latter.
She's so caught up in Mira's burning gaze and the fire roaring in her own stomach that it startles her a little when Mira suddenly speaks.
"'Hop off your dick', huh, princess?" She drawls, somehow managing to sound intrigued and disinterested at the same time. She arches a perfectly mannered eyebrow and smirks again. It makes the heat in Rumi boil harder.
Mira takes a step forward, and Rumi instinctively steps back. Mira takes another, and another, driving Rumi backwards with nothing but her scorching gaze and sly smirk.
She doesn't realize just how far Mira had made her retreat until the metal bar connected to floor-to-ceiling mirrors of the studio presses into her back. She jumps and hisses through her teeth, the cold metal biting through her tank top and chilling her skin.
Rumi swallows hard when she realizes she's got nowhere else to go, trapped between the mirror and Mira's predatory gaze.
Slowly, Mira raises a hand and twirls her finger lazily through the air, gesturing for her to turn around. Rumi is powerless to do anything but obey. Her anger has melted into arousal, hot and insistent in her lower belly. It's almost a relief when the cool surface of the bar presses into her stomach when she turns.
The second she's fully turned around, Mira is flush against her back, hands gripping her waist possessively. She leans forward a little until her face is level with Rumi's and tugs her hips backwards so that she's practically grinding against Mira, and in the mirror Rumi sees her grin turn darker.
She also sees the way her own reflection looks absolutely wrecked right now, flushed and sweaty with her hair a mess and her pupils blown so wide she can't see her irises. She grabs the metal bar for support, feeling like her legs might give out at any moment.
From where they're standing she spots Zoey lurking in the background. Her eyes are wide too, and her cheeks are pink in a way that Rumi doesn't think is from dance practice. She shifts slightly from foot-to-foot, and a little thrill runs through Rumi when she realizes that she's waiting, watching them like she's excited to see what happens next.
Mira must notice her too, because her wicked smile widens as she makes eye contact with Zoey in the mirror and crooks her finger to beckon her forward.
Like a woman in a trance, Zoey obeys. She walks slowly over to them, her eyes flicking back and forth between their faces in the mirror but never straying anywhere else. She licks her lips, and then does it again, like her mouth is dry, and suddenly Rumi is aware of just how dry her own mouth is. She swallows thickly to try and ease it, but to no avail.
Zoey comes up to Rumi's side, still staring at her through the mirror, and rests her chin on the shoulder opposite of the one Mira is leaning over. She brings one hand up to rest on her back, the other on her abdomen. Her pinky catches the hem of her shirt and drags it up the slightest bit, and Rumi's breath hitches.
She knows they both notice by the way Zoey's hands twitch against her skin and Mira's sharp gaze snaps to Rumi's in the mirror. She feels Mira's warm breath against her ear, and Zoey's against her neck, and Rumi's head spins.
"You know what I think your problem is?" Mira asks, voice low and husky. Rumi opens her mouth like she's going to respond, but nothing but the smallest of squeaks comes out. Mira chuckles darkly at it, her thumbs beginning to rub circles into her hipbones. "I think your problem isn't that I'm dickriding you, I think it's that you need to ride something else."
Rumi sees her eyes go wide in the mirror, face turning an even darker shade of red and her patterns flickering into a soft pink glow. Mira and Zoey have her pinned in place by their stares—Zoey's of fascination and anticipation, Mira's of nothing but heat and hunger and dominance. Mira laughs again and turns to catch Rumi's earlobe between sharp teeth, biting down gently and giving the piercings there a little tug. An embarrassing moan tears free from Rumi's throat and she feels her knees nearly buckle.
"Easy there, darling," Mira croons, her hands tightening on her waist. "Here, let me help you out."
A knee nudges at the backs of Rumi's legs and she parts them instinctively without a second thought. Mira slides her thigh between Rumi's, angling so that it's pressed right up against her, and Rumi grips the metal bar so hard that her knuckles turn white. Her head drops at the feeling, hanging limply as she fights to control herself and not rut senselessly against Mira's thigh the way she knows she wants her to.
"Better?" Mira asks, and Rumi glares at her through the mirror with all the heat she can muster. Her expression is pathetically wrecked though, even to her own eyes, and Mira makes a mocking little cooing sound. "Aww, what's the matter, princess? You said you wanted me to stop dickriding you, so I did. It's only fair that you get a turn."
Mira's grip on her waist tightens, and Rumi is powerless to do anything but give in when she urges her forward and guides her hips into a slow, steady grind against her thigh. She grits her teeth hard, biting down on the breathy whimpers that beg to escape her at the feeling of Mira's firm muscles flexing against her and pressing just right on her clit. Breathing hard through her nose, she lets her head drop to at least deny Mira the satisfaction of seeing her pathetic expression, but it snaps up not even a second later as she feels a warm hand slide beneath her shirt.
Zoey is staring at her through the mirror, eyes hooded, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Mira smiles approvingly, and Zoey tugs Rumi's tank top up a little higher, exposing her taut abdomen.
Rumi feels her muscles twitch and jump as Zoey runs her fingers lightly along her skin, her nails tracing along her patterns with barely-there pressure that makes Rumi shiver.
"Y'know, you do seem really tense, Ru," Zoey murmurs, watching the way Rumi's hips drag slowly along Mira's clothed thigh. "It's not like you to be snappy."
"I'm s-sorry," Rumi hisses, stumbling over her words when Mira pushes her down harder onto her leg. "I didn't mean to snap at you, Mir, I was just—ah—frustrated." It's hard to form coherent sentences with the way Zoey is determined to map out her every pattern with her fingers and Mira is guiding her hips.
"I know you didn't, hon," Mira says sweetly, smiling gently at Rumi in the mirror. For a brief moment, Rumi thinks she's gotten herself off the hook, but her hopes are quickly dashed when Mira's smile grows into a smirk. "That's why me and Zo are gonna help you to relax. But first, you have to make it up to me for being so mean." She pouts playfully, her eyes still dancing with wicked delight, and Rumi fights the urge to turn and wipe the expression off her face with a bruising kiss.
Zoey's hand travels further up, and any thoughts of trying to take control are driven from Rumi's mind as she dips her fingers just under the band of her sports bra. Zoey has her head tilted like a curious dog, drinking in every one of her reactions, and a small whimper manages to escape Rumi's lips as her nails brush the underside of her breast.
Zoey's eyes light up like a kid on Christmas, and without any further preamble she yanks Rumi's bra up and over her breasts, leaving it bunched around the top of them as she immediately palms one.
Rumi's head drops again, a shuddering breath escaping her, and instantly there's a firm hand gripping her jaw and yanking her head back up. Rumi starts at the sudden movement, and her eyes lock onto Mira's.
"Head up, princess," Mira purrs into her ear, nipping at the shell of it again. "I want you to see how pretty you look letting us play with you."
The whine that makes its way past Rumi's lips is high and needy, and it makes Zoey and Mira grin predatorily at her. Mira keeps one hand holding her jaw firmly, pressing just barely against Rumi's neck and making her head spin. Her other hand urges her hips into a faster, more insistent pace, and Rumi can't do anything but give in.
Zoey pinches and rolls one of her nipples between her fingers, coaxing them into painfully hard peaks that make Rumi whimper with every little touch Zoey gives them.
"You're so cute, baby," Zoey says, voice sweet but eyes burning with hunger. "Do you like when we touch you like this?"
Rumi finds herself nodding frantically against the slight restraint Mira has her head in, her pride and self-control quickly disintegrating under their words and hands. Mira is barely even guiding her hips anymore, doesn't need to with the way that Rumi is helplessly grinding against her thigh to chase the sparks of pleasure it sends shooting up her spine. She can feel how wet she is, and she wonders vaguely if there's a visible dark spot on her gray sweatpants. The thought makes her moan out loud and press herself harder into Mira.
"Good girl," Mira breathes against her ear, eyes still fixed on Rumi in the mirror. "Look at the way you're riding me, so desperate and pathetic. You really needed this, huh?"
Rumi doesn't answer, too lost in the heady sensation of Zoey's hand at her breast and Mira's thigh between her legs, and Mira digs her nails into her jaw lightly, just enough to make Rumi yelp and snap to attention.
"Yes," she gasps out, beginning to pant. She looks at herself in the mirror and knows she should be mortified, but instead it stokes the fire between her legs into a blaze.
She's flushed from head to toe, sweaty and breathing hard. She can see her patterns glowing steadily now, dark pink that signals arousal mixed with embarrassment, and she's trembling slightly from the onslaught of sensation. Her shirt and bra are rucked up almost to her collarbone, her sweatpants low on her hips, and she watches the way her abdominal muscles twitch with each grind onto Mira's thigh.
Zoey leans forward from where she's resting her chin on her shoulder and begins to press hot, open-mouthed kisses against her throat, just under where Mira is still holding her in place, and it frees a moan from Rumi. She both feels and sees Zoey smile against her neck, and she gives her a cheeky smirk in the mirror before nipping harshly at the delicate skin.
Rumi jumps and whines, her hand flying up to the back of Zoey's head to push her more firmly against her neck when she feels her suck the skin into her mouth and begin to work a dark bruise there. Rumi tilts her head to the side to give her more access, bumping her temple against Mira's, and Mira chuckles quietly.
"Look who's suddenly being so well-behaved," Mira hums, turning slightly to press a kiss to Rumi's cheek. Rumi nods, not trusting her voice at the moment, and Mira gives her a downright wicked grin that has her knees feeling weak. "You're being so good, letting Zoey mark you so that everyone knows who owns you."
The moan that tears from Rumi is nothing short of filthy, and her eyes roll back in her head briefly. The already-insistent movement of her hips becomes desperate, her rhythm faltering into urgent rutting as the last of her restraint snaps. Zoey releases her skin from her mouth and pulls back to admire her work, and Rumi's eyes zero in on it immediately.
The skin is crimson, already turning a dark purple, a large blotchy patch that Zoey has managed to put in the most conspicuous spot on her neck to where it'll be incredibly difficult to hide, even with a turtleneck and makeup.
Zoey must realize it too, because she hooks her chin back over Rumi's shoulder and smirks at her in the mirror.
"Aww, that's gonna be really tough to hide, huh tiger?" She asks, voice dripping with faux-sympathy. "Looks like you're just going to have to walk around with everyone knowing that you're mine."
Rumi moans again, long and stuttering, and she fights to keep her eyes open. Mira is still holding her head in place, keeping it from dropping, and she kisses Rumi's cheek again.
"You getting close, baby?" She asks, using the hand on her hip to try and give Rumi's movements more purpose and pressure. Rumi nods rapidly the best she can, biting her lip and feeling her entire body tremble. "Good."
The hand on her hip is suddenly moving, sliding down her stomach to slip beneath the waistband of her sweats and into her underwear. The sound that looses from Rumi's lips when Mira thrusts two fingers inside of her without any resistance is long and low, and her eyes squeeze shut briefly before she manages to wrench them back open. It's not even about Mira's command anymore, it's about how painfully sexy she finds watching her and Zoey make her come undone.
She can see Mira's hand moving between her legs, buried in her sweatpants as she fucks Rumi at a quick, firm pace. The room is filled with the wet sound of Mira's fingers pumping in and out of her, and instead of feeling mortified it just winds Rumi up even more.
Zoey is watching too, biting her lip, and she brings her hand back up to Rumi's chest to pinch and pull at her nipples until Rumi is keening desperately and bucking her hips against Mira's fingers and thigh.
"You belong to us, princess," Mira hisses in her ear, breath hot and wet against it. Rumi shudders hard and moans, panting so hard she's afraid she might start to hyperventilate. "Say it." Rumi blinks in confusion, processing the words slowly, before Mira curls her fingers harshly inside of her and makes her gasp. "Say. It."
"I belong to you!" Rumi blurts out, the very last dregs of her pride evaporating like a puddle under the scorching sun. "I belong to you and Zoey, I'm yours, both of you. You own every part of me, you can do whatever you want to me, please please please do whatever you want to me. I just wanna be good. I just wanna be yours."
Mira's steady pace falters for half a second as she and Zoey gape at her in the mirror, eyes wide and surprised, and Rumi is momentarily afraid she went too far. But then Mira's fingers are slamming back into her at a brutal pace and Zoey has her teeth buried in her neck again, and Rumi borderline shrieks.
"Fuck Rumi, it's so fucking sexy when you say things like that," Mira growls into her ear, panting like she's running a marathon. "You're such a good girl. Zoey and I own you, you're ours."
"I'm yours," Rumi repeats back desperately. "Please, let me be yours."
"You are ours, Ru," Zoey releases her neck and stands up on her tiptoes to purr into her other ear. "Don't worry, you're ours now and forever."
Zoey's honeyed words combined with Mira's possessive growls are enough to tip Rumi over the edge. Her eyes slam shut as a ragged cry tears from her throat, loud enough that it echoes around the studio. Mira keeps her fingers moving harshly, drawing out Rumi's orgasm as far as she can. Zoey leans back down and bites her pulse point, and everything behind Rumi's eyelids goes white.
She howls again, her voice cracking this time, and she digs her nails hard into Mira's arm and Zoey's shoulder. She faintly registers their hisses of pain, but she can't make her fingers uncurl as she holds onto them like they're the only thing tethering her to this plane of existence.
Her insides are a scorching, roiling blaze of heat and lust and pleasure that threatens to burst through her skin and immolate the three of them in a flash of heady desire. She's clenching her teeth so hard she's afraid they might crack, and she can feel the sharp tips of her lengthened canines poking at her bottom lip.
She feels herself begin to come down from her high, the room fading back into focus, and immediately notices that Mira's hand hasn't stopped between her thighs.
"M-Mir, I finished already," she stutters out, gasping when Mira curls her fingers to hit the spot that always makes Rumi sees stars.
"You can give me one more," Mira husks, finding Rumi's eyes once again in the mirror. Rumi's own eyes widen.
She's exhausted from the day spent practicing and from her orgasm, feeling thoroughly spent like she could fall asleep standing up. She's overstimulated, her clit sensitive and aching in a borderline painful way with each press of Mira's palm against it. The feeling of Mira's unrelenting pace makes her eyes water and her legs shake uncontrollably, and she feels like she might pass out.
Rumi makes eye contact with Mira through the mirror and nods.
The smile that Mira's lips curl into is so gleeful it's almost innocent, like it wasn't caused by Rumi submitting to her demands. She hammers into her with her fingers, and Rumi can feel herself gushing with every thrust.
There's a quiet giggle from her other side, and suddenly Zoey has her hand down her pants too, fingertips seeking out her clit and rubbing tight circles onto it. Rumi feels her knees buckle and they both grip her quickly around the waist to keep her upright. Her head droops, mouth open in breathless, desperate pants, and then Mira curls her fingers just right and Zoey rolls her clit between her fingers firmly and Rumi's head snaps back as her mouth opens in a wordless scream.
She feels her release roll through her like a raging ocean wave, and she feels herself absolutely drench Mira's hand that has finally, blessedly, gone still inside of her.
Shuddering, cracking moans finally escape her lips as her head drops again and she feels wave after wave of her climax slam into her over and over again. She's slightly mortified at the fact that she can still feel herself clenching and cumming around Mira's fingers relentlessly as her body wrings every last drop of pleasure from her.
Slowly, slowly, the room stops spinning and her vision clears from the static and explosions of color that had been going off behind her eyelids as she came brutally hard. Rumi manages to take a deep, shuddering breath, and goes completely limp in Zoey and Mira's arms.
She whimpers a little when she feels Mira abruptly pull out of her, but gentle kisses are pressed to her cheek in apology as they lower her carefully to the floor.
The hardwood is blissfully cool against Rumi's flushed, sweaty skin, and she sighs in relief as the raging inferno inside of her is tempered a little by it. She feels Mira and Zoey scramble to wrap themselves around her, fixing her clothes while they murmur praises into her ear and dust her with feather-light kisses.
Rumi smiles despite the exhaustion, humming contentedly at the feeling of their soft lips brushing her skin and their sweet, gentle voices singing in her ears.
"Ru?" Mira's voice breaks through the fog of her post-orgasmic haze, and Rumi cracks an eye open.
"Hmm?" She hums, not sure that she has the energy to form actual words right now.
"Are you okay baby?" Mira asks, looking at her with that concerned look she got whenever she was worried about Rumi or Zoey. Rumi thinks it's cute, and she wishes she had the energy to kiss the crease between her furrowed brows.
"Mhmm," she mumbles instead, eyes slipping closed again as she leans back into their soft bodies.
"Do you need us to get you anything?" Zoey asks from her other side, hands stroking up and down her sides gently.
"Mm-mm," Rumi says, turning her head a little to press her nose into Zoey's chest. "Jus' hold me."
"Of course, my love," Zoey whispers, wrapping her arms firmly around her and pressing kisses to the side of her face. On her other side, Mira does the same, drawing both her and Zoey between her legs so that they're partially leaning against her chest. She drops her own smattering of kisses onto Rumi's head—and a few for Zoey when she whines a little—and rubs soothing circles into her back.
Rumi presses her ear to Zoey's chest and listens to the steady thump thump thump of her heartbeat, still a little elevated from before, and lets the noise soothe her as her own heart begins to ease its galloping pace like it's trying to match hers.
She feels Zoey shift a little against her, and is about to whine to voice her complaints, but then she hears Zoey's voice, dropped low and suggestive again.
"Here Mir, let me take care of that for you," she says, and Rumi blearily blinks open her eyes, her curiosity winning out over her exhaustion.
She watches as Zoey grab's Mira's hand gently—the one that had been fingering Rumi—and Rumi feels a weak flush of embarrassment when she realizes that Mira's hand is absolutely soaked all the way to her wrist.
The embarrassment is quickly driven away though when Zoey brings it to her mouth, eyes never leaving Mira's, and drags her tongue up her palm in a slow, languid lick. Rumi sees Mira's nostrils flare and her pupils dilate, and she knows Zoey does too by the quiet giggle she hears echoing through her chest.
She reaches the tips of her fingers, pressing a kiss to each one, before taking the middle two that had been inside of Rumi into her mouth. Rumi can see her cheeks hollow out briefly as she sucks every scrap of her essence from them, and the sight is almost enough to reignite the fire between her legs if she wasn't so fucking exhausted.
Zoey releases them with a soft 'pop', grinning cheekily up at Mira from where she's still half in her lap and cradling Rumi. Mira blinks at her slowly, a dark flush on her cheeks, and takes a few deep, steadying breaths through her nose.
"You," she growls out, "are absolutely fucked when we get home."
"Promise?" Zoey shoots back, eyes sparkling with mischief, and Mira looks two steps away from lunging for Zoey and pinning her to the ground to take her right then and there. She's interrupted though by the soft whimper Rumi accidentally lets out when she shifts in Zoey's arms, her sore, exhausted muscles screaming in protest.
"Rumi? You okay?" Mira asks. The heat from her gaze is gone in a flash, replaced by nothing but genuine concern and it makes Rumi's heart flutter and then clench in guilt when she remembers what let to this.
"I'm fine, just sore from all the, uh… exercise we've done today."
Mira and Zoey both laugh quietly, and Rumi bites her lip for a moment before continuing.
"Mira, I'm—" her voice catches and she swallows hard. Maybe she should have asked Zoey to get her water bottle. "I'm really sorry for snapping at you earlier. It wasn't fair of me to take out my frustration on you, no matter what it ended up turning into." She feels her cheeks flush a little at the implication.
Rumi chances a look up at Mira, who is blinking down at her slowly, like she's genuinely surprised Rumi is apologizing. It makes Rumi's heart crack a little bit and she can't help but wonder how many times Mira's hurts have been brushed aside like they didn't matter. Too many to count, if she had to hazard a guess.
"Rumi, it's—"
"Please don't say it's okay, Mir, because it's not," Rumi interrupts her before she can brush it off, laugh and roll her eyes and call Rumi a dork and pretend it never happened, even though it did. It did and it hurt her feelings—Rumi can see it in the way Mira's eyes widen and get a little glassy.
Rumi will be damned if she's going to add to the list of hurts gone unsoothed in Mira's heart.
"I'm sorry, Mira," she says, firm and steady. She doesn't break eye contact as she says it, wanting to pour every ounce of love and apology into her words. "I was frustrated that I couldn't get the choreography down and I was tired from working on it all day, and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And I'm sorry."
Mira's mouth opens and closes a few times, like she's trying to speak but the words are stuck in her throat. Rumi sees her throat bob with a hard swallow, mirroring the way she had earlier, and Mira's lips twitch up into a small smile at the corners.
"It's okay, Ru. And no," she holds up a hand to stop Rumi before her mouth is even halfway open, "I'm not just saying that. I'm serious, it's okay."
"But I snapped at you," Rumi responds, hating how small her voice comes out. "I was mean."
"So?" Mira shrugs, and Rumi feels the movement with the way her arms are still wrapped around her and Zoey. "I've snapped at both of you before, it happens. What matters is that you apologize after, and you mean it. Which," she taps Rumi playfully on the nose and Rumi can't fight her smile, "you just did, so. As far as I'm concerned, everything is fine, and we just had rockin' mirror sex in the dance studio."
"Hell yeah we did," Zoey pipes up, grinning at the two of them. She'd been sitting silently between them, watching their exchange with thoughtful, attentive eyes and acting as a quiet anchor to steady themselves with.
"I wouldn't say we had sex since it was more like you two ambushed me," Rumi mumbles. She crosses her arms and huffs dramatically, and it earns her a fond scoff from Mira.
"I'm sorry, are you complaining about said ambush?" Mira raises her eyebrow in challenge. Rumi immediately feels her face flush, and she resolutely avoids eye contact.
"No," she grumbles.
"Uh-huh, that's what I thought," Mira says smugly.
"Yeah, you really seemed to like that, huh princess?" Zoey asks, her voice dipping low and teasing again. She lets her fingers wander under the hem of Rumi's tank top again to brush against her waist and Rumi jumps.
"I, uh—" her voice cracks and she looks between her two girlfriends, feeling like a rabbit trapped between two panthers.
"What was your favorite part, love?" Mira joins in on the teasing now. "Was it when you could see how absolutely wrecked for us you were?" She hooks a finger under Rumi's chin and drags her face around to look at her, and Rumi is powerless to resist. "Or when you rode my thigh while Zoey gave you hickeys?"
"Um—" Rumi tries again, but Zoey interrupts her.
"Ooh, ooh, I know!" She says, bouncing with far too much enthusiasm to be discussing Rumi's sexual preferences. Then her voice pitches down again, and in an instant that's so quick it gives Rumi whiplash she's staring at her with half-lidded eyes, looking like she's a starving woman and Rumi is a four-course dinner. "I think her favorite part was when I claimed her."
The sound that escapes Rumi when Zoey says that is so deeply embarrassing that Rumi considers teleporting away on the spot.
But she still isn't really sure how to do it at will, and as much as she hates to admit it, she's very much enjoying the attention on her right now.
"Hmm, I think you might be right, Zo," Mira rubs her chin and nods like she's deep in thought. "In fact," her eyes snap back to Rumi's, and Rumi feels a little like she might melt into a puddle of flustered goo, "I definitely felt her get wetter after you left that hickey and told her—what was it again?—oh yeah, when you told her that she'd have to walk around with everyone knowing who she belonged to, right Ru?"
Rumi is genuinely starting to think that she might pass out on the spot. She lets out a strangled groan, pulled involuntarily from her throat, and pulls out of Mira's grip on her chin to bury her burning face in her hands.
"Shut up," she says weakly, voice pitched high and breathy and needy. It brings her back to the first conversation they had about this a week prior, and she almost wants to laugh at how perfectly mirrored the situation is.
Mira's laugh is low and velvety against her ear. "But we're right, aren't we?" She trails the back of her finger over Rumi's jawline and Rumi clenches her teeth around the whimper that begs to be heard.
"I— um—" Rumi stutters and stumbles over her words. She still has her face pressed into her palms, unable to look at either of her girlfriends right now with just how embarrassed she is. She remembers the desperate, wrecked way she had babbled about how much she wanted them to own her, how badly she wanted to belong to them, and her ears get so hot she's shocked she doesn't smell smoke.
"You can tell us, pretty girl," Zoey's voice is deceptively soft and gentle, and Rumi knows if she looked up she'd see a wicked grin across her face. "We already know that you like when we're possessive over you, there's nothing to be embarrassed about."
Rumi peeks up at Zoey through her fingers, and she guessed right when she said Zoey would be smirking at her. But there's something honest about it too, something genuine that makes the knot of fear and embarrassment in her chest unravel a little bit.
"You're right," she says quietly. "That, uh—that was my favorite part."
The heat in her cheeks is assuaged by the kiss Zoey immediately presses there, and she can't help but smile.
"See? Not so hard to admit, huh?" Zoey scratches her nails gently along Rumi's abdomen where her fingers are still under her shirt, and Rumi can't fight the little shiver that passes through her.
Mira's hand comes up to cradle the side of her face, and Rumi looks up at her with what she can feel is a slightly dopey, love-sick expression. It makes Mira smile and drop a kiss to her forehead.
"I'm proud of you for saying it out loud, Rumi," Mira curls her fingers behind her ear to wind through her hair as she speaks. Rumi feels her throat close unexpectedly with emotion at the sincerity behind Mira's words, and she buries her face back into Zoey's chest to hide it. Mira says nothing, just keeps scratching softly behind her ear while Zoey traces circles on her belly.
A loud, rumbling sound breaks the silence, and Rumi jumps. She looks around wildly, confused and startled, only to see Mira and Zoey looking at her incredulously.
"What?" She asks, suddenly self-conscious. They both look like they're trying not to laugh, and then the growling sound comes again and Rumi realizes, a little mortified, that it's coming from her own stomach. "Oh my God, why is it so loud?" She stares incredulously at her midsection, and Zoey and Mira promptly lose it.
"Holy shit, Ru," Zoey gasps between her laughs. "That was so fucking loud, I genuinely don't think I've ever heard anyone's stomach growl that loudly. And that includes Mira's when she's having an IBS flare-up."
Mira whips her head down to glare at Zoey, looking utterly betrayed. "Hey!" She exclaims, her cheeks turning pink. "I can't control my IBS, leave me alone!"
"Oh, and I can control when my stomach growls?" Rumi raises a challenging eyebrow at her.
"No, but you could eat before we come to the studio so you don't end up starving," Mira mutters, retracting her arms from around Rumi and Zoey to cross them stubbornly over her chest.
"I did eat! You've just kept us here for hours!" Rumi shoots back.
Zoey nods solemnly next to her. "And you treat this like you're the hot and sexy drill sergeant of a military bootcamp."
"Well someone has to teach you two the choreography," Mira grumbles.
"And we're very grateful we have such an amazing and talented girlfriend to do so," Rumi bats her eyelashes up at Mira and grins a little when she sees the way Mira fights not to preen at the attention. "We're just also really tired and hungry from all the practice."
Mira opens her mouth to say something, but is cut off by her own stomach giving a loud, empty growl. "Okay, fine, maybe I kept us here a little too long," she says a little sheepishly. "C'mon, let's go home. I'll make us dinner. We've got stuff for samgyeopsal in the fridge."
Zoey whoops and shoots to her feet so fast that Rumi almost falls flat on her back. Mira steadies her with a smile, and Zoey gives her an apologetic little grimace as she bounces excitedly on the balls of her feet. She holds out a hand to Rumi and hauls her easily to her feet. Despite being the smallest of the three of them, Zoey is deceptively strong, her soft curves and thicker stature hiding firm, iron-like muscle. Rumi feels her ears go a little hot at the overt display of strength.
Zoey gives her a little eyebrow wiggle, but says nothing as she helps Mira up next and tugs the both of them to the studio doors.
By the time they get home, the sun is brushing the horizon and washing everything in the pale golden glow of autumn. They split off to their respective bathrooms to shower, and by the time Rumi has managed to get her long hair washed and combed out, she can hear Mira and Zoey puttering about the kitchen making dinner.
She sits at her vanity, humming under her breath while she methodically dries it. She runs her hairbrush over the purple strands in firm, even strokes, the hot air from her incredibly fancy and exorbitantly expensive hair dryer putting in work to dry her thick hair.
She stares at herself in the mirror as she works, running her gaze appraisingly over her face and upper body. Her shoulders a little broader than they used to be, and her biceps are bigger and more pronounced—she's pretty sure she has her half-demon anatomy to thank for that. It's not a bad change per say, just a little… different. Zoey and Mira at least seem to very much enjoy the physical changes, and Rumi often catches them ogling her at the gym when she's lifting weights.
If she purposefully flexes and benches the barbell a little more slowly and exaggeratedly, that's no one's business but her own.
Sweeping her hair over one shoulder to focus on the ends, Rumi's eyes catch on the extremely large and extremely obvious hickey Zoey had left on her neck. She knows for a fact that Celine is going to lose her shit when she sees it, but she really can't find it in herself to care.
Setting down the hair dryer, Rumi runs her fingertips lightly over the mark. It's darkened into a deep purplish-blue, edged with dark red and spreading from a quarter of the way down her throat and extending almost to the top of her collarbone.
It's honestly impressive just how much skin Zoey managed to cover in a short amount of time.
The memory makes her shiver and press her thighs together, despite the lingering soreness between them from earlier. Zoey and Mira's filthy words come back into her head unbidden, and it just makes the ache worse.
Rumi's eyes trail over her vanity to where her laptop sits on the edge of the table, and she bites her lip. Hesitantly, she drags it over and opens the lid, wincing as the harsh light from the screen momentarily blinds her.
She checks over her shoulder like she's afraid she might be caught doing something wrong, before slowly, nervously, opening up her browser.
She'd learned her lesson the other night when Mira had gotten relentlessly teased for her search history, and she opens a new incognito tab.
It pulls up a search engine, and Rumi looks over her shoulder one last time before biting her lip again and typing 'why do i like when my girlfriends leave hickeys on me?'.
Her screen lights up with links to articles, Reddit threads, even a WikiHow on how to give hickeys. She scoffs at the last one, she didn't need a guide for that.
She scrolls through one that looks promising, titled 'What's with the hickeys and why do we love them so much?', but it doesn't give her any new information. She already knows that she likes when Zoey and Mira are possessive over her, she's just still trying to figure out that deeper desire that's been nagging at her since Mira had asked her why she was so embarrassed about liking it the week prior.
With a huff of frustration, she deletes the phrase in the search bar and tries a new one:
'what to do when you like someone being possessive over you'
That one is even worse, and yields nothing but results about toxic relationships and what to do if you're in one. Rumi feels annoyance start to well up in her chest. Zoey and Mira aren't possessive over her in a toxic or harmful way, and Rumi doesn't want them to be. It's more like she just… wants to feel like she belongs. To them, in their relationship, in their lives in general. It's almost comforting to have a physical mark of them, like it reminds her that even when they're apart, she's no less theirs and they're no less hers.
Rumi bites her thumbnail—a bad habit she'd picked up as a kid and never quite been able to kick—and starts back at square one. The blinking cursor on the blank search bar seems to mock her, and she glares at it momentarily.
'how to feel like you belong to someone in a relationship'
No dice. Just a bunch of links to sappy bullshit about "how to know you've found the one". Rumi snorts, she certainly doesn't need that. She already knows good and well she's found her soulmates, thank you very much.
At this point she's getting genuinely frustrated, and she knows Zoey and Mira will come looking for her any moment for dinner, so she tries one last desperate search:
'what is it called when i want my girlfriends to give me a physical reminder of how i belong to them'
The first result nearly knocks Rumi out of her chair.
It's a link to an article called 'The Beginner's Guide to Collars'.
Rumi feels herself flush bright red at the image of Zoey and Mira putting a collar on her that instantly pops into her mind, and she slams her laptop shut so hard she's afraid she might have cracked the screen.
A collar? Rumi almost wants to scoff. She didn't want to wear a collar, she wasn't a dog. She's aware that that's a thing that some people are into, and she's not judging, she's just not one of those people.
But still, the image of Zoey and Mira getting her a collar, putting it on her, owning her physically like that while they fuck her, makes her shift restlessly in her seat. She'd be theirs, through and through. No questions about it, no room for misunderstanding. A tangible, physical reminder of how she belongs to them while they take her apart with their hands and mouths.
She'd be lying if she said the idea didn't at least intrigue her.
How the fuck was she supposed to ask for that though? The thought of just walking up to them and saying 'hey guys would you be down to put a collar on me in bed and fuck me with it on?' makes her stomach churn. Rumi knows they wouldn't judge her, hell she knows they'd probably agree no problem, but something about the entire thing feels… vulnerable.
She'd spent her entire life just wanting to belong.
Belong somewhere, belong with someone, to someone. All she had ever wanted was for someone to see who she really was and love her enough to want her anyways, to still be proud to stake their claim over her and call her theirs.
And she'd found it with Mira and Zoey. She knows they'd shout it from the roof of their penthouse if she asked them to. But somewhere in a dark corner of her mind, that fear still lurks. The fear that they'll leave her, they'll get tired of her, that they'll finally really see her and not want to stay.
It's irrational, because Rumi knows that they've seen her laid bare in every way possible—seen her hurts and cracks and imperfections and loved her wholeheartedly despite and because of them.
Sex is such a vulnerable thing for all three of them, especially with each other, especially with the knowledge of what they almost lost, and Rumi just thinks… she thinks maybe wanting to wear a collar for them goes beyond thinking it was hot.
Maybe she just wants to be able to give herself over to them completely, mind body and soul, and trust that they won't hurt her. Trust that they'll take what she gives them and treat it with reverence and love and return it back to her better than they found it.
She wants to be handled with care, all of her handled with care. She wants to submit and place all of her trust in them and prove to the beast lurking in the shadowy corners of her mind that it's wrong, that they won't hurt her or leave her or stop loving her.
Rumi blinks in surprise when she feels wetness on her cheek, and she realizes that a few tears are escaping from the corner of her eyes. She swipes at them quickly, a little embarrassed at how emotional she had made herself thinking about this, and she's about to open her laptop again when she hears Mira hollering for her from the kitchen that dinner was ready and to hurry up before it got cold.
"Coming!" Rumi yells back. Her hair is mostly dry by now, and she runs her hands through it a few times to get any stray tangles out before grabbing her (Zoey's) hoodie from her bed and throwing it on before trotting happily down the hall to the kitchen to eat.
The kitchen table is bathed in soft, warm light, and the air is full of laughter and affection and stolen kisses and pieces of pork belly. Rumi can't help the lovesick grin she knows is plastered across her face when Zoey insists on feeding her a ssam and Mira stops her from grabbing a piece of the extra spicy pork belly she had prepared for Zoey, knowing Rumi's lack of spice tolerance.
There's obvious care in everything they do, from the way Zoey kisses Mira on the cheek and passes more rice before she can even ask, to the way Rumi automatically wipes sauce from the corner of Zoey's mouth she hadn't realized was there.
It's soft and reverent and achingly tender, and somewhere between teasing Mira for the alarming amount of ssamjang she puts on her pork and Zoey laughing so hard that soda shoots out of her nose—which makes Rumi laugh so hard that soda shoots out of her nose—Rumi makes a mental note of what to look up next time she has a chance:
'how to ask my girlfriends to get me a collar so that i can feel the physical embodiment of their love'