Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

What they had defied labels. No, it strictly prohibited labels.

Labels are what fueled the disdain of Mira’s family against her unruly behavior. Labels are what got Zoey shoved into lockers in America. And labels are what led Rumi to believe her very existence had been a mistake her entire life.

So they didn’t call this—whatever it was—anything in particular. But it was nice, it was intimate, and it was genuine. Sitting on the couch tangled within one another watching one of Zoey’s carefully curated video collection of turtles that seemed to have no end. Curling up to fall asleep in one another’s arms atop Mira’s bed with less than modest clothing barely hugging their limbs. Sharing a heart to heart in the privacy of the bathhouse until their souls felt raw with emotion.

It was casual. It was erotic. It was fierce.

It was them.

It was everything Rumi could ever have dreamed of having with her girls, on all those nights she spent alone in her room, anxious eyes scanning over the growing patterns crawling over her arms like a disease, each day seeming stretch across more and more skin. Her nerves were only ever soothed enough to sleep by the promise of seeing those golden echoes in the Honmoon, her finish line to finally being normal. Being herself around the two people she adored most.

Of course that ‘self’ she had become after the Idol Awards was far, far from the one she had envisioned all her life.

She still had patterns. Though they spread further than they ever had, she found she didn’t mind them anymore. They were apart of her, she wasn’t herself without them. She understood that now. Of course there were certainly days she felt inclined to grab a turtle-neck first thing in the morning, old habits dying hard and all that, but all in all Rumi was elated to wake up every morning without the sagging weight of guilt sitting heavy on her chest.

And now that they were out, oh god how she could feel so much more. She could feel the sun kiss her skin when it was just beginning to peak its head above the horizon. She felt the drips of cold rain dribbling over her arms, the licks of the breeze on her midriff. Her skin could finally breathe again. She didn’t have to endure the blazing Seoul summers in multiple layers of clothing while forcing a smile. But best of all, now she could be touched.

And how Rumi adored the sensation.

She hadn’t known just how much her body had craved the feeling of warmth running over her skin by another. Flesh on flesh, soft and purposeful. It embarrassed her to admit just how much she’d reacted the first time a hand was ghosted over her arm to trace her patterns. Her girls had hugged her before sure, back before her patterns weren’t so bad that she could pass in short sleeves—but when Zoey had asked if she could touch her with intention, to feel her patterns, trace them, commit them to memory…Rumi hesitated for reasons she didn’t entirely know herself. Why should it be weird? she thought, it was surely no different than a touch from over fabric?

Oh god how wrong she’d been.

Her breath had hitched, entire body reacting to the raven-haired girls delicate touch. Like a coil had finally snapped after years of being pent up. Her patterns lit up like fireworks under the warm, slightly calloused fingertips. ‘Sorry! Are they sensitive?’ the maknae had hurriedly asked, hand retracting immediately as she interpreted Rumi’s reaction to be something negative.

‘N-no!’ The singer practically choked on her words trying to get them out as fast as possible, terrified at the thought of whatever this feeling was ending before it had even begun. ‘No, it’s fine…really, I’m just not used to it I guess,’ she really wasn’t in fairness. Celine had never been the physically affectionate type and given the woman trusted Rumi to be alone with no one but herself given her heritage, the half-demon had never received such displays from anyone. Rumi honestly hadn’t thought much of it herself…but Zoey was quickly making her rethink the last 25 years of her life.

‘Want me to do it again?’ A slight hint of mischief rested in the lyricist’s voice at the slight blush donning her companion’s cheeks, eager to help her bandmate cross that once gated hurdle. Her playful tone was lost on Rumi’s ears however who simply nodded, too transfixed by the anticipation of watching Zoey’s hand slowly and carefully come back into contact with her arm. Rumi let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding as a feeling like fire was set upon her senses. She didn’t think something so mundane could ever feel so good. How could she have gone this long without knowing a joy such as this in her life. The maknae had giggled at her enthusiastic reaction, ‘Mira! The tiger likes pets!’ she’d bellowed to the other end of the apartment to summon their missing third.

It was a weird sight seeing the patterns she’d looked at with fear and disgust all her life be admired like some work of art. A part of her heart broke for her younger self, isolated in her feelings of hatred towards her own skin. If only she could have known that her best friends held no such feelings themselves. Only reverence, and a drive to show said reverence as much as they could.

Rumi’s eyes had struggled to stay open as her bandmates were relentlessly thorough in their praise of her patterns. ‘We have to make up for lost time,’ Mira had justified in her own brand of kind smugness, whenever Rumi seemed to be growing self-conscious under so much attention. ’Besides…you know you like it~’ she uttered, flattening her palm over the singer’s stomach without warning, feeling the girl’s breath shudder at the unexpected location. The visual had smirked, her case rested as Rumi’s attempt at a modest argument was her own undoing as only a whimper escaped her mouth, immediately erupting her cheeks into a sea of red as a foreign weightlessness situated itself in her belly just below Mira’s hand.

She remembered swallowing thickly as a want formed in her core, a heartbeat introducing itself between her legs, only causing her to blush harder and become a stammering mess under her two opposites’ practiced touch. Very practiced touch, mind you.

Rumi didn’t have experience in any of this. Actually scratch that, she had zero experience in it.

Her upbringing under Celine was the definition of sheltered; meanwhile, that all stood in drastic contrast of her partners’ own lives. Mira and Zoey both had a head-start on her, not just themselves individually but even together as an unofficial couple before Rumi joined them. They had years spent exploring one another’s bodies in ways Rumi couldn’t even begin to imagine—she really couldn’t, just the idea made her blush uncontrollably—in the their repertoire. Although, more sexually literate than her, bless their souls they had been so unbelievably patient with her. Always taking slow steps, always checking in, always making sure she felt safe and listened to. Making sure she was having fun instead of having a panic attack.

She couldn’t help but feel bad about it sometimes, like she was holding them back, but they assured her that wasn’t the case. That they wanted her when she was ready to be had, and they were more than comfortable to wait as long as it took, because she was very much worth it to them. She was worth the world to them—a fact they were always incredibly eager to remind her any chance they got.

They had all the time in the world. There was nothing to rush. No end goal. Just each other. And oh how Mira and Zoey had waited so long for Rumi to join them. They’d spent months if not years agonizing over ways to subtly adopt her into their relationship, afraid to scare her away but more afraid to pass up the chance of sharing what they had with her—however their leader always holding them at an emotional arms length had made it very difficult to even approach attempts. The duo had seriously began to consider if it was a hopeless cause…but now that the Rumi’s truth was out in the open, it was like an unspoken barrier had been shattered overnight. The trio were closer than they ever could have hoped to be together. Mira and Zoey’s full hearts had a place to rest; they couldn’t be happier to finally dote their love without restraint. Or be prouder of just how far their shy little popstar princess had come into herself—

“You’re doing so good, Ru,” Mira hummed against her, drawing Rumi back to the present. She felt Mira’s voice more than she heard it, spoken right over her collar bone as the visual’s nose drifted across her neck.

Mira smiled as she felt the half-demon’s pulse pick up beneath her. The singer let herself focus on that feeling of her lover’s voice against her skin, allowing it to ground her anxious thoughts as the trio were slowly inching over and over their personal record of intimacy with her. Which wasn’t incredibly far mind you, but by Rumi standards they were insanely proud of the progress she had made.

Only a month ago, just the thought alone of doing anything less than innocent with the others had her too flustered to speak, now here was in only her Huntr/x brand grey bralette and low rise boyshorts. The trio had learned the hard way about clothing when they tried to jump the gun the first time they’d gotten frisky with one another. The singer had basically went into a mental shutdown when her girlfriends had all but disrobed and looked to her expectantly to do the same. Zoey had gaped at her in genuine astonishment, ‘Rumi we’ve gone to the bathhouse like three times a week for the past two months, we know what you look like’ she attested, not in anger but innocent confusion at their leader’s sudden shyness.

‘This is different,’ Rumi had shaken her head, refusing to come out of hiding from behind her hands, heart pounding in her ears as the reality that everything to be offered would be out on display and expected to be touched—not just herself but the other two as well—without restriction or barrier…the thought alone sent her into a flustered spiral she didn’t know how to handle. She felt silly. She didn’t think someone her age should be getting so nervous about something the majority of adults did, but here she was trying not to cry under the anxiety washing through her. That was when her girlfriends realized just how sheltered, ‘sheltered upbringing’ had meant. The rest of that night had turned into a vanilla—very much clothed—cuddle session afterwards to coax her back into a state of calm. Rumi genuinely didn’t know what she’d done to deserve such spectacular women in her life, not a hint of annoyance nor impatience in either of their features as they lovingly reassured her not to worry, that it was alright if she wasn’t ready, that they wouldn’t expect anything of her until she was; and in the meantime they were more than happy to pet her pattens and whisper sweet nothings into her ear until they all eventually drifted off together in bed embraced by the soft iridescent glow of their adorably flustered leader.

They realized after that it would be less daunting if the others remained a bit more modest while Rumi was the one to slowly lose clothing, so the thought of intimate skin on skin contact didn’t send her over the edge. One could guess that after so many years of associating the feel of fabric against her flesh with safety, it was still subconsciously reassuring to her in one way or another. Less nerve wracking. Mira and Zoey’s clothes would surely join hers in a forgotten pile on the floor in due time, but for now they were more than happy helping her get comfortable with touch in less than explored places until she felt comfortable enough to reciprocate such intimacy herself without mentally glitching out.

Doing it on the living room couch with one of Zoey’s painstakingly curated lo-fi playlists softly playing through the TV also helped her nerves significantly more than in the quiet, impassioned intimacy of one of their bedrooms.

“Look at our girl…so pretty,” Zoey praised her, hands dancing over Rumi’s bare thigh. She sandwiched Rumi to the left, Mira to the right—each tracing the half-demon’s patterns with a comfortable laziness. “She’s glowing…” the lyristic praised, before a dry chuckle escaped her. “heh…literally~” she drolled watching the half-demon’s patterns ignite under her touch in a gorgeous swirl of iridescence and twinkling gold.

Rumi blinked at her words, glancing down at herself to find her skin alight. No, not just alight…alive. Yearning, and attentive.

Her breath hitched.

It shouldn’t have bothered her. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. But the questions still rattled in her mind… Why did it have to be now? Wasn’t she already asking enough of Mira and Zoey to wait so long for her, to take small step after small step with no discernible short term finish line…Why did she have to make the situation even more bizarre? What if her patterns only got brighter the more the trio went on? Harder to look at? Surely it had to be irritating, nauseating? Searing light scratching over her limbs like a hypnotic spiral making one dizzy. Why couldn’t she control it? Stuff it down until they were done, so the effort of having to look at her for too long wasn’t made even more arduous? The girls had waited so long for her to join their relationship, Rumi wondered if they were disappointed to find the one they had been yearning for so many years was someone like her? Someone they didn’t actually want…what a waste of their time…

Her breathing became faster as worry swelled into self-bitterness. She tried to swallow but found her mouth dry. She could only hope the other two didn’t notice. Wouldn’t put her on the spot. Stop everything to check on her again like some toddler in a crowded area, making sure she wasn’t overstimulated and on the verge of meltdown. This evening had been going so unbelievably well she didn’t want to ruin the mood now. Not when she was so close to finally giving them the version of herself they wanted to see. Had been waiting so patiently to see. They didn’t deserve any more frivolous delays.

“I think someone’s getting excited~” Mira leaned back to look Rumi in the eye, a warm smugness in her expression that held no hostility, only approval, clearly interpreting the singer’s elevated heartbeat to have a different meaning entirely. A soft finger caught Rumi’s lip, the visual’s thumb rolling over it lazily. “Still doing alright, jagiya?” she asked gently with an effortless tilt of her head.

Rumi nodded. Mira tsked her disapproval, eyes narrowing. Rumi swallowed the lump in her throat with more force than she cared to admit. “Y-yes,” she choked out, praying she sounded convincing to the human lie detector. She was telling the truth to Mira’s intended question…just lying about the unintended one. It didn’t count as shutting them out.

At least that’s what she told herself.

The pink-haired dancer snickered, leaning closer. “You sure about that?" she uttered, her chestnut eyes so intense it felt like they bore straight through to the back of Rumi’s skull. The poor girl couldn’t even tell if the woman was just teasing or trying to grill her for the truth but before any pitiful excuse could land on Rumi’s lips Zoey swooped in to unintentionally save her.

“Go easy on her Mira,” she elbowed the tallest’s arm playfully, “do you have any idea what it’s like being on the other side of you?” she attested from experience, reaching a hand up to brush a bit of magenta hair from her face. Mira chuckled, “fair enough,” she conceded couly; Rumi wasn’t so anxious that she was missed on the bravado which evidently swelled so much in Mira’s chest at the compliment that it bubbled up to her face to be worn like a prize. The dancer stole a deep kiss from the maknae. Rumi sighed softly, her shoulders dropping—the affection between her girlfriends putting her instantly to ease, quieting all those deprecating voices in her head.

She must have been staring because only when she blinked did she realize she was being hungrily stared down by her companions. She was also glowing again. Hard. “Enjoying the show~?” Mira purred, her voice a dark honey. Rumi turned scarlet, fumbling over her own tongue for an excuse before Zoey once again came to her rescue. “I think we’re making her jealous Mi-Mi,” she giggled. “Don’t worry Rumi, you’re too cute to be forgotten!” They were quick to each dive in for a turn kissing her.

Rumi adored how differently they kissed.

Zoey was always buzzing, like she was always trying to restrain herself from smashing their faces together with too much force. Seeping with unbridled, joyful energy. Meanwhile Mira took her time, let the intensity build slowly as the kiss progressed. Methodical and purposeful. The singer could have gotten lost in either of them for the rest of her life and died a blissful death but they pulled away too soon for pleasure.

“Don’t let her scare ya, I promise she won’t bite,” Zoey cooed mirthfully after they’d both had their turns getting a taste of their half-demon. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing. Which honestly you should be ‘cause she’s like REALLY good at it! Like actually the best!” the lyricist was always happy to gush about their girlfriend. Rumi found herself grinning at her shameless enthusiasm.

Mira grinned at the praise. “I know…” she said matter of factly, “but,” she let her words linger as her hand found Rumi’s lips again, tugging them gently in her grasp, coaxing her mouth open to press a thumb down on her tongue. Rumi had almost become lost in the butterflies such a sensation stirred in her stomach until Mira finished her thought—

“…I think Rumi might just take that title from me,” something in Mira’s voice broke her trance. Mirth? Admiration? The half-demon slowly realized where the visual’s gaze was...

At her mouth.

Zoey peered around to follow Mira’s line of sight before practically lighting up in excitement. “OH!” She squealed, “your fangs are out!”

Both she and Mira immediately felt the singer stiffen beneath them.

Shit.

The butterflies were replaced with a rock.

“What?!” Rumi gasped, louder than she’d meant to. Her voice sounded dry, as her hand flew to her mouth. She rolled her tongue around, and sure enough…

“Ah!” She hissed quietly, scratching the surface of her tongue with the little daggers that had entered her mouth without permission. There was that lump in her throat again. This wasn’t the first time her canines had elongated, but it had only ever happened once and Rumi had personally hoped it was a one time thing—

—It had been during the heat of battle against of particularly nasty group of demons who’d gotten a bit too close to her girls’ for Rumi’s liking. It had sent her into a protective fit of rage right then and there, the adrenaline coursing through her veins felt like fire; it had her slicing through their foes single-handedly. In the aftermath as they caught their breath, Rumi noticed a curious pain poking at her cheeks… Zoey and Mira had rushed to her side immediately as their leader dropped her saingeom with a deafening clatter, lungs heaving erratically as she begun to hyperventilate.
They were on her like moths to a flame, throwing her into a bone crushing embrace as they had begun to harmonize quietly together, something they always did to soothe one another. Rumi shakily joined them as their voices bound the trio together through the Honmoon, stilling her trembling legs and chasing her would-be panic attack away…and evidently, her fangs as well much to her great relief.

They hadn’t appeared again after that and Rumi had written the event off as a fluke. Some crazy burst of adrenaline clashing with her demon physiology or something. Demonic hysterical strength if you will. Rare. That single word was the important take away.

But now here they were again. Why, and why now of all times? When she was perfectly at peace with her bandmates, safe from any danger. Not now. Please not now, when she didn’t want to think harder about her body than she already was. Was being a living nightlight not enough, she needed fangs in her mouth too to be even more of a disappointing freak?

She tried to swallow down the panic stabbing her ribs but it just situated itself in her stomach like bile, refusing to leave. Especially not with her friends watching her with a growing concern which only heightened as they saw those patterns striping across Rumi’s skin shift from shining opal to a burning pink. Hot and volatile. Afraid.

“Hey, are you o—?”

Zoey’s question was cut short as Rumi squirmed out from their embrace and practically rolled off of the couch before standing up to attention a bit too quickly, a bit too rigidly. A practiced—defensive stance she knew all too intimately. Fake assurance.

“I-I uh…” she stammered searching for an excuse, any excuse, but the pumping of her heart in her ears under the inquisitive gaze of her bandmates stalled her brain. “I’m….” The room felt like it was spinning, she didn’t recall telling her legs to begin moving backwards they just did. “Sorrygimmeaminute,” she fumbled out, turning to all but run to the hall bathroom before she could get a proper look at her girls’ reactions.

She slammed the door behind her harder than intended. Her palms fell to her knees as she heaved for breath as if she’d just run a marathon. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to focus on how hard her heart was thumping. With a swallow, she opened her eyes again, pulling herself into a stand. With effort, she lifted her head up to turn towards the mirror to inspect what her bandmates had seen…and the reflection which greeted her was so far removed of the image of herself, for a split second the woman hadn’t even registered that it was her own at all.

Her skin had become pale, and not the stage-fright kind of pale like it’d been on Huntr/x’s world premiere concert. Demonically pale. She was practically purple— patterns burning an angry pink and hollow purple that looked downright sickly. Like rotten wood that shouldn’t be handled lest it crumple in one’s grip, splintering flesh. Her arms gradually became darker, her hands slowly transitioning into a deeper violet tapering off in nearly black fingertips. At least where her fingertips should have been…her fingers narrowed out into sharp claws, elongating her hands by at least another two inches or so. A quick glance down confirmed the same for her legs and feet. They looked wickedly sharp, and even the thought of testing that sharpness sent a pang of anxiety through Rumi’s chest. Her claws hadn’t resurfaced since the night of the Idol Awards, and even then she’d been fortunate enough for it to only curse one of her hands…but now it was coming for all of her appendages.

What if these had sprouted while the girls were together? What if she hadn’t noticed the damn talons at the end of her hands before she tried to touch them? What if she’d hurt them…?

She blinked at the black dots assaulting her vision as her ribs felt as though they were squeezing her. And the ringing piercing in her ears didn’t help to encourage breathing regulation as she became acutely aware of how shallow her breathes were becoming. The tightness of her chest wouldn’t allow for anything very deep. She tried to look back at the mirror, to steel herself. Bore into her own eyes until she could force herself believe the tiny voice in her head telling her that everything was ok. That she was in control. But that proved to be her fatal mistake—

She flinched hard, as if brushed with something hot as burning yellow eyes stared back in greeting. Her gasp rang hard and dry in her throat as she staggered back and away from the reflective glass. Her pupils had a slight slit to them, like little ovals; they shuddered in her honey sclera as they took in the sight of themselves, like a cornered animal trying to size up its surroundings. Dangerous. Feral. The soft gold light emitting from them clashed aggressively with the lavender hue of her skin where it darkened at her scalp as her hairline gave way to something protruding out of her skull—

Rumi stopped breathing. Her body had simply forgotten how until the burn in her lungs willed her lips to suck in a pained breath. A hand she couldn’t recall telling to move reached up in disbelief to hover over the hard bone erupting out of her skin.Two horns curved straight out of her, long and smooth like they’d been there her whole life, though she could barely even feel them…which only terrified her more. Rumi had hardly even grazed a finger against them before her stomach felt sour.

She hunched over the sink, violently dry-heaving, stomach bucking as it gagged on nothing. She couldn’t hear anything above the ringing now. She couldn’t feel the floor under her feet as she staggered back.What was happening? some terrified voice echoed in her mind, small and distraught. She’d accepted her patterns, she could deal with fangs on a good day, maybe even claws if she really put her mind to it…but horns? How the hell do you get around demonic skewers shooting out of your head?

Smacking into the wall behind her finally brought Rumi back to an ounce of awareness as she vainly tried to cover her ears to block out that incessant ringing which threatened to draw away her consciousness. The black spots in her vision were back too now.

Of course patterns weren’t enough, of course she had to look like even more of a monster too. She couldn’t stomach looking back at herself—no, looking back at whatever that thing pretending to be her was.

She had to force her burning eyes away from the glass, she’d half passed the thought to shatter the damn thing but thought better of it. She was better. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself, but that little voice in her head—the one assuring her that she’d be alright, that if her fangs and claws had come and gone then surely this would too—was noticeably getting more and more quiet as only labored breathing filled her ears. It was as though she couldn’t get enough air into her body no matter how hard she gulped for it.

She needed to move, needed to run, but she couldn’t face her girlfriends like this. Couldn’t dodge their questions upon her exit, couldn’t ignore their pounds on her locked bedroom door on the off chance she managed to make it that far if she fled now. And how would they even react? To her? To this thing masquerading as their leader, the stunning pop princess of idol royalty looking more like something from a folk story used to frighten children into not staying out after dark. Rumi remembered back to the night of the Idol Awards again, when she’d finally gotten away from the stage to find her bandmates (her real band mates) staring at her with a horrified astonishment. Even though they had built back that bridge with many an assuring talk since then, Rumi’s memory of the fear in their eyes always underpinned every genuine promise of nonchalance her friends gave to her regarding her more demonic attributes.

She’d be lying if she said the image of Mira and Zooey holding their weapons against her didn’t come back to haunt her when her thoughts were left in silence for too long. Like a threat to her brain reminding her, ‘things could easily go back to that if you screw things up good enough.’ And that had only been at the sight of her patterns and claws…how could they possibly be expected to cope with goddamn horns and snarling fangs?

Rumi began to pace in circles, unsure of what else to do to calm down. She tried holding herself, a gesture used to typically calm herself, make her feel secure, but it only resulted in an immediate hiss of pain. She had clasped too tightly over her forearms, leading her claws to dig painfully into her skin for a split second. She grimaced, less at the pain but more in shock; then anger. She swore under her breath. She didn’t even have the luxury of pretending she could fucking comfort herself looking like this.

The half-demon then moved to clasp at her hair with the hopes that maybe curling her fingers around her scalp could calm her nerves but she only ended up letting out a startled yelp as her wrists bumped her horns and jerked her head back sharply and painfully, almost sending her flying backwards into the shower.

That was the last straw.

She growled in frustration, a gutteral, near-ancient sound rumbling out of her chest as worries to keep quiet from Zoey and Mira’s surely prying ears became forgotten. In that moment she didn’t care; all she felt was rage, impatience, fear. She lashed out at the first thing in her periphery, tearing the shower curtain to shreds like paper with her claws before grabbing the damn thing and ripping the rod out of the marble wall.

She grabbed the pole, clutching the thing with both hands and lifting it high over her head, angling to smash the sink in her fit of blind rage when a moment of clarity befell her as she caught a glimpse of…it in the mirror.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could no longer feel it as that beast stared back her. Wild and retched.

Another pair of horns were curving out of her head; lower—just above her ears, which had also sharpened to a point themselves. Her fangs had elongated and were notably curling out of her mouth, no longer constrained by her lips. Her bottom canines had also grown in length like sabers. The eyes boring back at her were dangerous, pinpricked slits floating in a sea of dangerous amber, almost orange in their intensity. It was remarkable that the wetness welling in them didn’t evaporate into steam from their heat. but Rumi couldn’t blink as she stared back at them. Couldn’t move.

Not until the delicate plop of a silent tear that had rolled down a lavender cheek splashed onto the smooth tile floor.

That finally snapped the tension coiled in Rumi’s body like a dagger through the ribs; she dropped the curtain rod with boneless arms, the thing clattering noisily behind her but was barely perceived by thrumming ears. The creature in the mirror scrunched its face in dismay as it fell to its weightless knees and out of view. She couldn’t see it anymore…but it was still very much there.

Rumi’s chest hurt; her lungs tried in vain to pull in air, sucking greedily to little avail. It was like a pillow was over her face.

She had to actively fight the rising bile in her stomach as angry hands found the hard surface of her horns. She wondered if she could push them back in? Could she just snap them off if she tried tugging hard enough? Or maybe her saingeom would do the trick? It was a ceremonial weapon yes, but it worked well enough on demons didn’t it? Surely it could saw through a half-demon’s bone? Rumi didn’t care how much it hurt, didn’t care how much blood there’d be, she just wanted them off, even if she had to rip them out by hand.

…But she could already see the disapproving crease on Mira’s brow, and the tears in Zoey’s eyes. She stopped herself for their sake.

But that nagging voice in her heart told her, briefly, that if the two girls weren’t currently in the apartment with her, if Rumi had the ample time to clean up the crimson evidence nothing would stop her, and she hated herself for that truth. She felt like a little girl again. A scared little girl locked in the bathroom, scrubbing and scrubbing at her patterns for hours as if she could erase them. But it only ever left her skin red and broken.

She rips her hands away from her horns in frustration. She hated this. Hated how weak she felt. She thought she had been getting better. Every time she thought she had built a steady foundation she found it to have been made of straw all along, to come crashing down every time. She was supposed to be a leader, but more and more did she seem to be the unsteady link which threatened to snap at any moment, threatening to bring down Mira and Zoey with her.

Oh god…

Mira and Zoey…

What would they think? What would they do? How could she explain herself? Would they even care to listen? Was this the turning point to prove everything she’d feared deep down? That they only loved her so long as her demon was convenient?

She wrenched her eyes shut as if closing off the world meant her body wasn’t real. This skin wasn’t her own. She didn’t have to exist in it. She was still someone that could be loved and not some hideous monster. She felt lightheaded and her mouth went dry as hot tears flowed freely down her cheeks now. She hugged a body that didn’t belong to her, shrinking on the cold tile floor as she sobbed quietly.

“I’m sure she’s ok,” Zoey’s gentle voice drifted to Mira’s ear in assurance. The maknae noticed how the dancer was bouncing her leg, staring at the wall as if trying to burn a hole through it. In Mira terms, it meant she was stressed. “I know you wanna go in there, but we need to let her have space when she asks it,” she reminded her, sitting down next to her on the couch, their knees touching.

“She has space. With us,” Mira argued. They’d been making steady progress with Rumi—the singer’s walls, after years, were finally down…but now here she seemed to be slipping back into old habits again. Shutting them out. It got under Mira’s skin with an intensity she didn’t care to admit to. She tried to push down the sense of betrayal climbing up her spine, she knew it wasn’t fair to expect Rumi to be an open book immediately, but it still hurt nonetheless. After everything they’d been through at this point.

“Mira,” Zoey said with an uncharacteristic firmness. Her brows furrowed lightly above her brown eyes. It was a look that seemed to say, we’ve crossed a threshold of trust with Rumi, she wouldn’t break it now. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t be like the past. They needed to have faith in her, regrettably not one of Mira’s strong suits.

The dancer sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to move her entire body. “You’re right, I’m being paranoid,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, head bowed, no longer locked in a staring contest with the wall. Her cheeks flushed softly as a shame flickered through her for a moment, “sorry…” she uttered quietly.

“You just care a lot. It’s sweet!” Zooey offered, ever the optimist of the group, “a little intense sometimes, maybe, but we love that about you!” She smiled, giving her a chaste hug; she felt Mira smile against her cheek before she pulled away, her overwhelming confidence shaking for a moment.

“I…hope this wasn’t because we pushed her too hard,” Zoey continued, eyes peeling away to find more interest in the hem of her black shorts. “She can be so sensitive about so many things, I think I manage to set her off without realizing it sometimes…” she said, not as a diss to Rumi but to herself. She wished she could know better; she wanted to know better but she always had such a hard time reading people. Mira was so gifted at it it made her jealous sometimes. She felt like a failure for not being able to help where she was needed most. Why did she have to always be so intense—

A knee bumping her own stopped her thoughts.

“I think she’s just scared, Zo,” Mira silenced her internal worrying as if she could read her mind. Seriously how did she do that? “Scared and used to dealing with it alone. I doubt she even knows she’s allowed to ask for help, ” Mira stated more to herself to silence the doubt creeping into her skull like a shadow. Assure herself that Rumi was past her lies, that the way she was acting had nothing to do with keeping her and Zoey out, but rather with an insecurity inflected upon herself.

The awkward truth they’d come to terms with after heavy conversations regarding the events of the Idol Awards was that Rumi would never lie to purposefully shut them out, but rather out of self preservation. Was it still offensive that their leader didn’t trust them with the truth of her feelings? Undoubtedly. But her reasoning was understandable in some respects. Fear didn’t leave much room for rational decision after all. Especially when that emotion had dictated all your actions throughout your entire life up until that point.

“But she knows we don’t mind about all her demon quirks,” the lyricist rebuked, “that we never did…” added quietly, thinking of the aftermath of Takedown, a closed wound but still itchy nonetheless. Shame tinted her cheeks as the memory of a less than stellar reaction to such a volatile secret laid bare without warning. Poor instincts were allowed to call the shots in the wake of revelations, and all three of them were equally working to pick up the pieces. Progress was shaky, and very awkward at times, but it was steady. Rumi understood her bandmates didn’t mind her demon heritage at all, it could be said Rumi had bigger problems with it herself than either of them actually did; a fact the pop princess didn’t quite know what to make of. How she had struggled her whole life to accept the patterns which greeted her every morning since before she could remember had been done so easily by Mira and Zooey. It almost felt unfair. Rumi had always felt queasy ghosting her fingers over the dark purple marks and here were her girls actually approaching her to ask permission to touch them. To pet them. To kiss them. To worship them until they glowed so bright all the singer could do was cry to release the growing tension of her heart. The overwhelming feelings of being allowed to feel so openly. To be touched, to be seen. To be accepted. To be loved and cherished by her very favorite people in the world.

“She may know we don’t care, but that doesn’t mean she still doesn’t,” the visual pointed out to her girlfriend. “You still hide your freckles when we go out in public even if its on personal business.”

Zoey bit the inside of her cheek as she pulled away from Mira’s gaze, rubbing her neck.“Maj-a…” she uttered in bashful agreement.

“Shame doesn’t disappear over night, or over two months…” Mira noted. “But I feel you, it’s still frustrating. It’s like for every step forward we end up two steps back. I wish there was an easier way to make her see herself like we do,” her voice drifted off with a reserved sigh. Bless Rumi’s heart, but god the girl could be so dense sometimes. Mira remembered with a wry kind of fondness how she and Zoey had to outright have an intervention with the singer one night after nearly a month of fruitlessly trying to adopt her into their relationship to tell her plainly to her face how the two of them very much had a crush on her since the early days of Huntr/x and how the two of them had very much been explicitly flirting with her directly to see if she’d bite. And even then Rumi—poor, sweet, oblivious Rumi— didn’t believe them until Zoey finally snapped with frustration and just kissed the dumbstruck girl to prove their point. And even after all of that—after nights spent cuddling, and kissing, and groping, both her bandmates could tell Rumi was still reserving part of herself around them. Like something inside of her brain doubted their intentions as genuine, like she was just an experiment or a gimmick to keep their own relationship fresh. That they’d tire of her involvement eventually and go back to only one another. Oh how wrong she was and oh eager they were to prove her so.

A hand suddenly clasped over Mira’s own, bringing her back to the present. A small smile poked the corner of her lips as she squeezed Zoey’s palm.

“I love our girl but I’m amazed she doesn’t have whiplash with how much flies over her head,” that earned a chuckle out of the stoic singer, much to the maknae’s delight. She adored making her crack, and loved being one of the only people on earth with the ability to do so. “ I guess all we can do is be patient,” Zoey observed. Patience had never her strong suit, but for Rumi she was willing to try her hardest. Because Rumi deserved her hardest. Both her girls’ did. “Keep chipping away at that obtuse heart of hers by reminding her everyday how much she’s loved.”

Her voice ended softly as the pair locked eye. Tentative smiles found their lips before they found another in a delicate but tender kiss.

Just as they had begun to accept their state of waiting, adamant on respecting Rumi’s privacy, trusting that when the half-demon was ready she’d return to them for help, a shout from the hall sent them on high alert.

Both women slowly moved to a stand, eyeing another as if in a silent argument of whether or not to approach. But when a clattering sounded from behind the door, the decision was made for them.

The trip to the bathroom was brisk, only quickened when another shrill clatter found their ears. They were practically running.

“Rumi?!” They call for her. Mira got there first, not bothering to knock as she forced the door open half expecting it to have been locked and nearly staggering into the room with the unnecessary force. Zoey was quick behind her peering through the entry way.

The dark room was awash with a turbulent, purple glow which almost seemed to pulse with each pitiful whimper that escaped the hunched figure whom befell their eyes in the corner.

Rumi, knelt on the cold tiles, clutching into herself, shivering and keeled over as quiet sobs raked through her body. Despite her appearance—which at first glance admittedly took them by surprise before the concern for their friend quickly overpowered their shock— both of them couldn’t help but to find her looking so… fragile. Not some ferocious tiger waiting with raised hackles to pounce from the brush, but more like a lost little cub, abandoned in the forest. Afraid and lonely, crying softly to itself as it sought comfort and security.

The eldest and youngest, respectively, entered into the room without a word, stepping over the ruined rod and curtain lain torn to shreds at their feet with little acknowledgement towards the thing. They soundlessly approached the shuddering being they called their leader. Their friend. Their Rumi. It didn’t matter how much her demon overtook her, she would always be undeniably theirs.

They approached as one would a terrified animal, slow but purposeful, carefully considering every micro movement before the action was done to ensure the being wouldn’t be provoked into a panic and lash out in fear. The singer looked so delicate, as if she were made of glass which threatened to shatter at the slightest mishandling.

Rumi hadn’t even noticed their arrival until she flinched hard at the sensation of hands finding her skin, taking in a sharp gasp.

Fingertips gingerly brushed the base of her horns, from where they erupted out of her skull, gently stroking down her temple and towards her ear as its twin gently caressed her forehead as if to coax her gaze into lifting from its spiraling inner-focus.

The touches were slender and precise.

Mira.

She was always the first to approach. Zoey was quick to follow, as if the eldest’s example was a silent permission, a confirmation, of how to approach the situation. An impossibly soft hand fell on Rumi’s knee, little thumb stroking little circles over the angry patters there. If the searing heat from those marks were hurting the maknae she didn’t show it, didn’t falter in her silent assurances.

Golden eyes opened and shut again immediately as they welled with tears. Rumi’s instincts were screaming at her to run, to hide herself from her closest friends, her lovers, her entire world. Hide this monster from them that they didn’t deserve to see. Her patterns quaked with shame at the knowledge of her girls seeing her in such a hideous state, both physically and emotionally. And finally her heart plummeted knowing it was too late to refute anything, her true form was on full display to be gawked at with judgmental eyes.

She wanted to rip herself away from their touch but couldn’t will her body to move. The conflicting emotions rattled in her skull until they tired themselves out into the simple feeling of complete and utter despair. Rumi immediately broke under its weight. It was too much to process so her body simply refused to, opting to short circuit instead.

She cried.

The pair said nothing as she sobbed, and sobbed hard, her body spasming as she fought to take in uneven breaths. Tears of their own soon found their eyes as they felt their friend’s anguish. They deplored seeing her in such a state of grief that it physically hurt them; a pang of pain formed in the center of their chests at each little hiccup, each sniff trying to be as quiet as possible, like the sight of her was a bad enough offense that Rumi didn’t want to make it any worse by being loud.

They did what they could to soothe her aching heart. Mira stroked a steady hand down the length of Rumi’s spine in slow, soothing motions, as if to settle the violent quakes of her breathing. Zoey let her fingers trace the burning patterns over her shivering legs, making sure every inch got its share of attention. Maybe it was her imagination but they seemed to grow less hot the more she stroked them, as if her touch cooled their ferocity.

After a good while—none of them were perceiving time regularly enough in that moment to say how long or short it had been— the half-demon finally stilled enough to speak.

“They won’t go away,” Rumi’s voice was small, as if it had to fight to crawl its way out of her dry throat. The sound was so removed from the typical confidence the singer always carried herself with, even when frazzled, it was difficult to reconcile that it had even come from her at all. But in all fairness, what else could be expected now that the woman was slowly learning to lower more and more of her walls. It was a dissonant feeling for her two companions, the humility of being allowed to see such a vulnerable aspect of Rumi, holding onto that trust with both hands and an open heart enthusiastically, coupled with the pain of an aching chest at the sight of the half-demon crumpled up in utter dismay.

“I can’t make them go away…” her voice cracked as she spoke, shaking her head gently before she froze with fear, remembering how close her friends were to her right now and remembering the abominations jutting out of her head like knives that could very easily hurt them with little effort or intention on her part. “Th-they won’t go…awa—” her voice stopped as her breath hitched again.

“Shh Ru-Ru,” Zoey shushed her gently, tentatively reaching up to wrap her arms around her shoulders. Her cheek resting against Rumi’s ear; mindful of the horns but adamant to show she was unfazed by them. Rumi could hate them all she wanted but neither girl was going to allow the singer’s mind to conclude for even a second that they held any issue with them, nor any of her inhuman traits for that matter. “It’s ok, love. You’re ok~” the rapper whispered against her skin, her voice so impossibly soft and tender.

Rumi wasn’t expected herself to ease into the embrace as much as she did, tense muscles relaxing subtly, halting her mind for a few precious seconds, long enough to remember how to breathe. Her lungs thanked her.

“Your fangs have gone away on their own before, I’m sure these will too,” Mira consoled evenly, ever firm in her assurances. It genuinely did make her words hard to dispute with the weight in which she spoke. She’d always been gifted in that respect. If only the fans could have known the stonecold ‘bad girl’ of the group was the most emotionally mature of them all. They’d have a field day.

“We don’t know that!” Rumi’s voice quaked in sorrow. “What if they don’t?”

“Well I’m sure being anxious about it won’t help,” Mira observed bluntly, never one to beat around the bush.

“Yeah…it could be making it worse,” Zoey chimed leaning back to look her in the sad glowing eyes, arms still draped around her patterned shoulders protectively. The lyricist felt them reluctantly shrug.

“I guess…” Rumi mumbled, a swift wave of deep yellow, almost gold, washed over her patterns as if wiped by a hand. So fast it could have been missed in a blink. But Mira and Zoey felt their hearts lighten at the sight of it bit. Rumi’s demon markings had turned purple enough times for them to recognize it meant she was sad, or wallowing in a bout of self loathing, but they were just as, if not more familiar, with gold. She was embarrassed.

And that was always an easy opening for any one of them.

Mira snickered, the sound contained only kindness. “You’re just too damn good at spiraling,” she noted, affectionately tucking a lavender lock behind a pointed ear.

Rumi felt Zoey’s chuckle before she heard it. “That’s cuz she gives 110% at everything, even panicking!” the maknae hummed, giving the singer’s shoulders a teasing squeeze, rubbing her cheek against her temple again.

“Shut up…” Rumi uttered with a half-hearted despondence; she meant to come off disgruntled but couldn’t deny the tiny pang of levity which eased its way into her chest at her girlfriends’ jests. She sniffled again, wiping her eye with a clawed hand, and the sight of what replaced her delicate fingertips effectively clamped down on the last traces of gold to be replaced right back with that sickly purple.

She wrenched her hand away, fists clenching at her sides to rest her knuckles on the tile, as far from herself as possible. Like she could pretend her hands weren’t really attached to her body. They didn’t belong to her. Rumi felt her back tense. She couldn’t fathom how either woman hadn’t even made a comment on her appearance when it was all that occupied her thoughts. Didn’t question it, barely acknowledged it beyond Mira’s response to the singer’s ice breaker. It’s like they weren’t even sitting next to a demon at all. That lack of acknowledgment was like a thread being stretched in her chest with each passing second until it finally snapped.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” she spat at them indignantly with curled lips—she regretted it immediately. She knew there was a better way to deal with her own self hatred than throw it back at the people taking time out of their night to sit on a cold bathroom floor with her. They didn’t deserve that. Didn’t deserve her—

“We’re afraid for you,” Mira said quietly, unshaken by the singer’s tone. “You know it makes us nervous when you just bolt like that!” she said a bit harsher than intended. Let us in. Why do you keep forgetting to do that? She refrained from saying aloud. “I care more about what’s going on in there, than what’s going on out here,” the dancer said strictly, brushing Rumi’s temple first before gesturing to the rest of her body respectively to accentuate her point.

The singer blushed, dry for a response to that.

“Do they hurt Rumi?” Zoey’s anxious question was barely a whisper on Rumi’s ears. The youngest unfurled her embrace to ghost a hand over the hard bone protruding out of their leader’s skull.

“No,” the half-demon admitted. “I don’t even feel them, but that’s worse. I can’t tell when it’s happening! Any of…this!” She spat the last of word out as if it were acid on her tongue, slitted pupils narrowing at the claws which replaced her delicate fingertips, her pale skin making her look practically undead. She wanted to clench her jaw in frustration but the sabers poking out of her mouth made it a challenged. She wanted to scream, to hit something again, find some kind of outlet for this pain in her chest. Claw at herself until her demon was satisfied with the blood she drew. She probably would have if her girls weren’t sitting with her…

A part of Rumi secretly wished they’d leave so she could—then that part immediately felt shame at the thought of wanting her favorite people to leave her alone. Her favorite people who wanted nothing more than to comfort her right now in her lowest point. Wipe her tears away. Console her. Love her for who she was.

Her patterns were a whirlpool of purple and angry pink at her shame, their color seeping over her limbs, and stirring the girl’s beside her to stiffen. The burning hues only shone brighter at their reaction. At the guilt of making her friends hesitate around her.

Another sob bobbed in Rumi’s throat before she could stop it. Her knuckles found her forehead as she hid her face from them again. Mira and Zoey were having none of it however. Mira’s poised hands found her wrist, and even when she pulled it down to rest over patterned knees the visual kept her grasp there, her subtle warmth was grounding as she made small strokes with her thumb over the agitated stripes swirling over the half-demon’s forearm. Zoey quickly found her clawed hand, sandwiching it between her own; palm up to let her fingers dance over the singer’s heartlines. She’d even taken a moment to intently brush over her sharpened fingers as if to say they were like every other part of Rumi that deserved appreciation.

The half-demon exhaled shakily, trying to allow herself to become lost in their touches. Her chest still bobbing unevenly as air fought its way into her lungs between uneven breaths.

She swallowed thickly, finally managing more words. “I-I did hurt my neck hitting the horns though…” she couldn’t stomach referring to them as ‘her’ horns. They didn’t belong to her. She didn’t want them. They were an ‘other’ on her body like a cyst, a parasite. Her growing hatred for them was interrupted by infectious giggling however. She blinked up at the pair in confusion.

“Jagiya, how you can go around thinking you’re some fearsome demon is beyond me,” Mira drolled, a sly smirk on her lips which held nothing by endearment.

“Yeah, you’ve gotta be clumsiest demon I’ve ever known,” Zoey agreed through soft laughter. Rumi adored that sound. It was like a rope being extended into the pit she found herself in, offering a chance to climb up—granted with effort on her part—but a welcome assistance nonetheless. A promise.

Rumi flickered with gold as their laughter quieted down, her cheeks flushed hot as her glowing eyes dropped to the floor. Unsure of what to say, embarrassment at the evening’s turn of events fighting for dominance over her anxiety. She wished she could disappear, she half debated just teleporting to her room but decided against it. Mira and Zoey would just find her again, and probably be pissed off to boot. Something warm and fluffy sputtered in her curiously, at the simple thought that she couldn’t get away from her girls even if she tried. They would always find her.

A beat of silence hung in the air for a few moments.

“Tell us what’s going on in there,” it was intentionally not a question. Rumi always appreciated Mira’s directness. If her tone didn’t encourage her to speak then the tender hand returning to her shoulder blade certainly did. The singer focused on the little circles the visual made as she tried to put her rampaging thoughts into sensical words.

“I thought I was over this already,” Rumi said tiredly, she took a minute to continue. “After Namsan Tower…that’s the freest I’ve ever felt in my skin. It was amazing! I thought I’d left all my shame behind, I finally wasn’t afraid to have my patterns out.” She had been doing well. Their first trip to the bathhouse together had been nerve wracking to say the least, it was actually the first time she had properly seen herself since that night. She’d grown accustomed to showering with an averted gaze ever since she was young as to not have to look at her patterns for too long—but then, in the full lighting of the women’s jjimjilbang, trepidation crept its way over her heart at the sight of those marks stretching across her body further than they ever had.

However, before the feeling could consume her completely. She’d been interrupted by the very vocal and exaggerated swooning of her band mates at the stripes running across her body. Mira had likened them to the Kintsugi pottery her family collected when she was a child, but notably less stuffy and pretentious. Rumi remembered how that had chased away her insecurities before they could surface right then and there. And the girls had had a great time, but sometimes she couldn’t help but question if she had actually truly accepted herself, or if all the negative voices were just being drowned out. Inaudible but not actually gone. Waiting for words of acceptance and encouragement to die down to once again rear their ugly head.

“You’re still ashamed of your patterns?” Mira questioned her softly, not accusingly, just curious, her palm warm on Rumi’s shoulder as she continued rubbing circles.

“Not exactly…I mean, I’m comfortable in them…but some days are worse than others, you know?” Their leader admitted honestly. “I spent the better half of my life hiding them so strictly, it’s like I have these moments of clarity where I see how exposed my skin is and I have this instinct to cover up. I feel my stomach drop and my chest gets tight—”

Mira and Zoey listened intently, attuned to every word spoken and committing it to heart.

“It doesn’t last longer than a moment, and I know it’s dumb…but it still happens and it’s annoying,” she mumbled, hating to hear her own insecurities voiced aloud. She was used to them rattling around in her head, but not assaulting her ears. Hearing them audibly made them tangible in a way she didn’t enjoy. Like admitting them to herself made her fears real.

“Well after being raised by Celine of all people, no shit it’s going to take you a while to not hate your own skin,” Mira stated without a trace of levity given towards their mentor’s questionable parenting methods. Her and Zoey hadn’t directly spoken to Celine since the night of the Idol Awards, leaving the decision of how their relationship should proceed up to Rumi, who wasn’t ready to approach that topic just yet.

“I don’t mind how they look anymore, really,” the words felt weird on the singer’s tongue. They were honest but hearing them affirmed by her own voice was odd. Like what she felt in her heart was in dissonance with her mind. “But I could do without the glowing,” she huffed lightly, her patterns flickering gold as if to rub salt in the wound.

“Ha!” their visual barked, admittedly making Rumi jump a bit. “Well I think it’s only fair that we finally have a way to read you like an open book after you’ve kept up walls for so long,” Mira jabbed with a snicker, pushing their leader’s shoulder playfully.

“No more hiding~ now you’re shinin—” Zoey sang Rumi’s pre chorus, before being silenced by a golden hand to her mouth. The maknae giggled against the clawed palm, it shook Rumi’s whole arm. Small hands gently gripped a patterned wrist a moment later to pull it away, the other girl letting her.

“I for one am incredibly grateful to know how you’re feeling at any given moment,” Zoey declared. “You guys know I have the hardest time with body language so Rumi being a walking mood ring is a great shorthand!” she beamed excitedly.

“Did you know Zoey’s actually keeping a notebook cataloguing all the colors you make?” Mira asked smugly nudging their youngest’s shoulder with her elbow.

“You what?” Rumi gaped at their lyricist, a dark tinge to her cheeks as her patterns shined.

“Not in like a creepy, invasive science-experiment way! It’s just interesting!” Zoey assured a bit too loudly, obviously flustered by being put on the spot. She didn’t like sharing lyric ideas when they were still rough and the same applied for other scientific endeavors. “You guys know I love biology and there are currently no studies on the field of Rumi so somebody had to step up!” She argued. If she hadn’t been so flustered, the half-demon probably would have chuckled at Zoey’s brand of hyperbole that was just so…Zoey. She loved this weird little nerd so much sometimes it ached.

“She also loves your purring by the way, I think she tells me at least once a day,” Mira continued to put the lyricists under the spotlight, shifting to sit more comfortably on the ground, with her legs outstretched in front of the singer. Zoey mirrored her subconsciously, legs extended the opposite way behind Rumi. The girl couldn’t help but feel caged in by them but in a good way. A safe way. Like they were guarding her.

“How could I not??? It’s so freakin cute!” Zoey practically squealed, voice bouncing off the smooth walls around them.

Rumi’s patterns had stopped flickering and were now a permanent, rich honey. She looked like the sun in the middle of the afternoon. The memory was so embarrassing—

It had been an exhausting day of press events and interviews, and if the quiet serenity of their limo ride home that evening hadn’t lulled her into a state of comfort, then Zoey’s delicate strokes over her arm as the singer laid her head in the maknae’s lap absolutely did. Rumi remembered how her eyes had fluttered shut, contentment washing over her like that crisp blue which made its way across her patterns not unlike a waterfall. She began to hum softly as the tips of her girl’s fingers just barely brushed against her skin, ghosting over the buzz of her patterns as they glowed brighter under each touch. At least Rumi thought she’d been humming…

A snicker sounding from Mira had her shooting the visual a curious glance where she sat across from the pair on the other side of the vehicle, back to the driver as her arms rested comfortably over the entirety of the seat’s headrest. The eldest of the trio’s answer was silent, wordlessly gesturing to Zoey with a fond smile on her lips as she crossed her legs as if waiting for something to happen. Some kind of reaction from her. Rumi could feel the lyricist vibrating before her eyes found her face, bright pink under her blush with sparkles practically shining in her widened amber eyes. Her mouth hung ajar in a silent gasp, the same way it did whenever she watched cute baby tortoise compilations. She held still as if frozen in wondrous shock.

“What?” Rumi had asked in complete confusion.

“Dude, you’re purring!” Zooey beamed, the girl looked like she was about to cry with joy, while her companion just looked like she was about to cry with embarrassment. Rumi had immediately removed herself from the rapper’s lap and hide herself behind her hands the rest of the ride home, aggressively pressed against the door far away from human touch as possible, as Zoey only prattled on excitedly at this development.

In the present, sat huddled on the floor looking at her maknae who bore that same excited sparkle in her eye; Rumi rubbed her neck feeling put on display under their gaze. “It’s weird…” she winced out.

“Like it’s any weirder than Zoey’s sleep rapping?” Mira asked dryly.

“Hey, my bars are so hot not even sleep can cool them down!” the rapper defended with a proud smile. “And don’t try to pin this all on me,” she wagged a sly finger at the tallest of them. “Mira gets super turned on by your growling!” Zoey’s face broke into a shit eating grin.

“That was an accident! I swear!” Rumi whipped around to their visual, practically drowned out by golden glow. She had only growled once but that was more times than she would have liked. It was during a misstep in dance rehearsal, her paces weren’t on beat which left her foot opened to getting crushed by Mira’s perfectly timed steps. The singer clutched at the pain, hopping on one foot as a rumbling growl echoed out of her throat. Rumi hadn’t even realized she’d done it until her gaze met Mira, who simply stood there in shock, face as pink as her hair as the track blasted on the speakers forgotten. “Did you just…growl at me?” she uttered, like she didn’t even believe the words leaving her own mouth.

“What? What are you talking about?” Rumi furrowed her brow, returning her foot to the ground.

“ Oh she absolutely did just growl at you!” Zoey had helpfully stated from where she sat on the sidelines; she wasn’t in the verse they’d been rehearsing so she was more than happy to munch away on saeukkang crackers as she watched them work and was oh so delighted in show unfolding in front of her. It was rare sight to get Mira flustered and she was committing every hue that painted her face to memory. But she didn’t hold a candle to Rumi, who had looked like she’d stopped breathing as she ran out of the room after folding under the awkwardness of the situation.

“I don’t know what happened, it just slipped out,” Rumi didn’t think she’d apologized over something as much as she did that day but shame still held heavy over her heart for doing something so inhuman, so feral towards her friend, especially over something so meaningless.

Mira only hummed at Rumi’s defense, that languid way which sparked butterflies in singer’s stomach. “Guess we’ll just have to find a way of slipping it out of you again that doesn’t involve messing up my choreo,” she uttered, drifting an intentional hand over the half-demon’s throat. She chuckled, feeling the girl swallow hard at the suggestive promise.

“Oh and her fangs! Don’t get me started on her fangs!” Zoey was all but fangirling now, grabbing Rumi’s arm and shaking it excitedly before she realized what she was even doing. The half-demon blinked as she was jostled roughly. “Look don’t take this the wrong way Ru-Ru because I know it’s what got you all fight or flight mode just now but I was SO worried that last time was a one time deal!” she gushed, “I may or may not have stayed up all night that day thinking about them!” the maknae was maybe over sharing a bit too much but the gold which shimmered through her friend made it so worth it.

“They’re not fun,” Rumi rebuked, shaking her head disparagingly, “I feel like I’m gonna choke on my own mouth every time I talk,” she crumpled, her patterns quickly flaring with pink shame again. “I can’t even close my mouth all the way,” she lamented, trying not to cry again as she could already feel how her jaw was beginning to get tired from being unable to relax.

“Maybe you just need something to close your mouth on~” Zoey uttered suggestively, leaning forward purposefully into Rumi’s bubble until their foreheads just barely touched, eyes undeterred under the burning amber which met them. One could have argued they shone with an even greater ferocity than the half-demon’s own.

Rumi only blushed and hid her face in her hands again. Too scared to move her head with Zoey so close and run the risk stabbing her with a horn. Mira laughed kindly kissing her temple, deep and slow as a lazy hand drifted over her lower pair of horns just above her ears. Rumi was surprised at the shiver it caused, not because it felt weird but because it felt…good?

“Sorry Rumi, not to make you feel unspecial but you just have to accept that we’re actually bigger freaks than you’ll ever be,” Mira bragged into her ear.

“Yeah all this,” Zoey hopped on, gesturing exaggeratively to their little demon’s quirks, “is the only way you’ll ever stand a chance balancing us out,” she said with a puffed chest. Rumi peaked up at the pair, who were now gazing wantonly at one another, buzzing in a silent conversation, a connection the singer wasn’t attuned to, before they turned simultaneously to cast that same expression towards her. Their Rumi. Their little freak, so to speak because apparently by comparison, the two of them wore the ’big’ freak pants in this relationships.

The singer hid her gaze again in her fingers again, though not entirely out of shame this time.

Her girls’ caught a smile tugging at her lips.

“What?” they questioned her curiously, hopeful at the soft shudder of blue in her patterned shoulders with every soundless little giggle which escaped her.

“Nothing just…heh,” the corner of Rumi’s mouth was crooked into a grin when she came up again. “For years Celine always told me that you two would never accept my demon side. I think she’d have an aneurism to learn you’re both turned on by it,” she said dryly. Her bandmates broke out into boisterous laughter, Rumi gently chuckled with them quietly, still afraid to be too loud, too intrusive, but easing slowly.

“Hey I’m just saying, maybe your mom was onto something when she met your dad,” Zoey observed, freckles beaming through the blush on cheeks.

“Yeah, maybe Celine was just jealous all these years,” Mira hummed.

“Please no conspiracy theories right now,” Rumi begged so a tired shake of her head. It exhausted her enough to try and find the reasonings behind the way she was, she didn’t have the energy to devote into speculating why Celine was the way she was as well.

“Oh and don’t forget you can see in the dark with those crazy-ass eyes! I’m sure that comes in handy for midnight trips to the kitchen!” Zoey buzzed.

“The whole teleporting through smoke thing is absolutely handy with how much you forget your phone at the studio,” Mira added.

“Ok, ok, I believe you guys…” Rumi stopped them, beginning to feel a bit warm in the face from their gassing of traits she found to be less than positive.

A beat of silence passed before Mira broke it. “But you don’t believe it,” she observed with her trademark sternness.

Rumi shook her head. “What you’re describing, these things about me. Yeah they’re…useful…I guess. But…they don’t sound like me! I don’t sound like me—I don’t look like me!” she uttered. Her girls were silent, letting her speak her mind. Get everything out of her system. “I look at that… thing in the mirror and I don’t see myself. And that terrifies me so much,” she forced her voice to stay even, “it’s like how can I tell myself the version of me I want to believe in even exists, if I can’t see it in front of me? If it seems like it’s getting further and further away?” She mourned.

“What ‘version’ do you believe in?” The dancer inquired severely.

“I-I don’t know…” Rumi began slowly, rubbing her neck. “Someone…normal?” that was out the window, a bitter part of herself acknowledged. It always was. From the day she was born. “Someone…I can enjoy looking at, and be happy to see staring back?”

“Well newsflash unnie, nobody’s reflection is exactly what they want to see,” Zoey was fast to argue with a roll of her neck. “Except Mira’s maybe. But she’s the exception not the standard,” Mira hummed in agreement to the obvious fact. “I don’t think anyone looks in the mirror and loves every part of themself. But that doesn’t mean those parts aren’t lovable,” the maknae said, her fingers flirting over the ridges of Rumi’s horns. She ate up the delightful shivers running through the singer’s spine at her touch but held her tongue to comment on them. Now wasn’t the time…even she could recognize that.

“Mira and I will just have to make sure to love those parts twice as hard for you until you can learn to do it yourself,” she finished with a wide smile, holding a clawed hand in her own and bringing it to her face. She felt Rumi tug in her grip, as if to get away before her talons could meet the lyricist’s impossibly soft flesh. The duo heard their third stop breathing as her palm made contact with Zoey’s cheek, horrified to move. Horrified to hurt her. She felt ill at the sight of those near charcoal claws settled way too close to their youngest’s chocolate eyes, looking back at her with absolute trust as she stroked the back of Rumi’s knuckles.

The singer wanted to cry out, to whimper; scared to pull away and risk blinding her and equally scared to remain where she was but then…she blinked. Had Zoey always been this warm before? she questioned. This soft? Had she always been able to feel every centimeter of skin that came into contact with her own? It was as though her body had gained some new sense of clarity she hadn’t possessed before through her demon. She hadn’t realized how much her shoulders had relaxed as she became lost in the sensation, until Mira took hold of her other hand to do the same against her slender jaw. Rumi could feel every vein pulse beneath her palm as it willed the dancer’s jaw to move before she spoke.

“You’re not alone Rumi . So don’t handle this alone. Let us help carry the weight with you,” the visual pleaded. “We’re here for you, and we always will be. Through bad hair days or demon shit, nothing is gonna keep us away from you.”

“You’re stuck with us! No refunds!” Zoey stuck her tongue out as she dropped Rumi’s hand to through her arms around her again, Mira joining a moment later.

The half-demon could feel their heartbeats against her side, and was painfully aware of how in sync they were with their own. As if the two girls at her side were perfect puzzle pieces to be attached to her own. A lump formed in Rumi’s throat as she wormed her arms out of their embrace to return the gesture. They hugged, as tears fell from the half-demons eyes; not hot this time, but rather like cooling rain relieving a drought. Her heart wasn’t so heavy anymore.

“Thank you,” she said after a good while, soaking in sensation of their love. Her voice rough and exhausted, “both of you.” She wiped her eye when they had finally pulled apart, too swept up in emotion to even notice the state of her hands—

“Hey, igeo bwa!!” Zoey squealed, startling both her girlfriends. Rumi looked to her before the younger woman suddenly ran a rough hand through her hair over the top of her head.

The singer raised her shoulders. “Zoeeeyyy—“ she began to whine about the maknae messing up her meticulously braided hair before realizing…

Her breath stilled in her throat.

She ran her palm across her forehead.

The horns.

“They’re gone…” she breathed, as if she’d been holding her breath for hours. Her hands combed through her head. Nothing. Like they were never there. Even her skin had softened back to its usual hue, her fingers were fingers again. She choked out a laugh pulling her girls back into a bone crushing hug. “They’re gone!” New tears flowed freely, cool and comforting, as if chilled by the icy blue blush coursing its way across her patterns, replacing the angry magenta as its suffocating hold slipped.

“Aw man already…” Zoey lamented, “they were hot!”

“Freak,” Mira uttered with a light smirk.

“Freak,” Rumi echoed, a smirk of her own poking onto her wet cheeks.

“Like you weren’t thinking the same thing!” she accused the group’s dancer with a mischievous smile.

“Ya! Can we maybe not manifest my horns coming back, please?” Rumi asked apprehensively.

Zoey sighed dramatically, falling until Rumi’s lap with a hand over her head as if fainting under duress.

The singer let her, smiling down at her.

“Oh well…at least your fangs are still there a bit,” she said practically sticking her hand into Rumi’s mouth to inspect the sharpened canines still apparent. They weren’t obsessively long as they just had been, and her bottom row was all but gone, but they were still a bit longer than average. Short enough to miss at a glance if you weren’t looking, but deliciously long enough if you were. The half-demon sputtered around the rapper’s fingers in mouth, shaking her head free of them.

“Hey, but when they do come back,” Mira circled back, not missed on the frown upon the singers’ face at her choice of ‘when’ instead of ‘if’, despite both of them knowing this surely wasn’t the last time they would appear. “You come to us. Ok?” She paused severly, eyes refusing to let Rumi go.

“Yeah, no solo Rumi mope sessions on the bathroom floor! This is a multi-mope household, understand?” Zoey declared from below, looking impossibly cute as she folded her arms across her chest and furrowed her brow.

Rumi sniffed, thankful to find a finger wiping at her cheek rather than a claw. “I love you guys.” It was agreement enough for them.

“We love you more!” her girls said in tandem, both of them kissing either one of her cheeks at the same time. Rumi giggled, her patterns flickering a lovely swirl of iridescent. Like the Honmoon had licked over her flesh.

“Sorry if I killed the mood so suddenly,” she mumbled, rubbing her neck as her gaze turned away. “I was really getting into it this time too,” she admitted.

Zoey wagged her eyes to that. “Wanna pick back up where we left off then?” she crooned eagerly, sitting up again until she was level with the singer..

Rumi gawked at her. “Isn’t the vibe kinda weird now?” she winced, shame flickering lightly over her patterns. Surely the heat of the evening had been extinguished by the trauma consultation of the past half hour, she thought.

“Rumi, when are things not weird with you, ampeom?” Mira said with her own brand of dry fondness, nothing but mirth in her eyes. “Mood is kind of a stupid concept anyway,” she shrugged dismissively. “ If you’re in the mood to do something you should just do it. You know how many times Zoey and I have done it in the limo?”

The singer almost choked. “O-our personal limo? The one with the driver on the other side of the glass!?” she gaped.

“Pshh,” the rapper waved her hand, “the glass is tinted, it’s fine,” she dismissed evenly. Rumi had to wonder just what other places the two of them had ‘gotten into it.’ She felt her patterns sizzle. God she really could be oblivious sometimes couldn’t she?

“Hey—” Mira roused her thoughts. They locked eyes before the visual gestured to the gold creeping over her limbs with a knowing smirk. “So? Do you want to?”

Rumi felt the shift of the room in real time as her bandmates looked at her like ravenous wolves. Wired and ready to pounce on command.

Golden slowly but surely overpowered her body. The half-demon darted her gaze between them, before slowly nodding her head.

“Nope!” Mira shot down all too happily, her eyes never leaving Rumi’s face. “We have to hear that sweet voice say so~” her voice was pure syrup. The singer felt it in her core, fighting to suppress a shiver.

Rumi sighed reluctantly. “Yes…yes I still want to try it tonight,” she murmured hoping that would suffice.

“Try what?” It was Zoey’s turn to be cruel as she cast a knowing tilt of her head. Of course it didn’t suffice…her girls loved to torture her too much after all.

“Do I really have to say it out loud?” the singer all but groaned.

“Yes!” They agreed in unison, Zoey buzzing with unbridled excitement as Mira simmered with calculated suavity. Rumi could practically feel their heat.

“I want to try…um,” her gold deepened, shining hard and bright which did little to encourage her tongue to work. Her companions only ate up the sight, loving every moment of the singer quite literally wearing her heart on her sleeve, after years spent trying to decipher her thoughts like a code. Her chestnut eyes fell down upon assuring hands which had moved to clasp over her own, in silent reassurance, patiently giving her space and the time to gain her voice back, instilling her confidence.

“S-sorry this is hard,” Rumi stammered feeling her cheeks become warm at how lame she sounded right now.

“You’re doing great, aegiya!” Zoey encouraged, her features warm as she gave her hand a squeeze.

“Take all the time you need~” Mira all but purred, fingertips stroking over her patterns.

Rumi took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I want to try… I want to try going all the way with you both…?” her statement curved at the end as if she herself didn’t exactly know what it meant. But her girls’ beamed happily regardless. So, so proud of their Rumi.

Zoey all but squealed, gripping her right back into a bearhug. Rumi was going to have to start charging her for her chiropractor at this rate.

Mira leaned back and stretched her arms as if preparing to run a race, a promising look in her eyes as she stared right into Rumi’s soul. The half-demon gulped. Zoey felt her tense and giggled, “you’ll do fine. All you gotta do is sit back and let us pamper you ok?” She hummed, helping the girl to her uneasy feet.

“And try not to get stuck in your own head,” Mira quipped, rising behind them. She smirked proudly at the flicker of red across the singer’s face.

“I’ll do my best,” Rumi said with a quiet determination letting herself be led out of the room by their youngest’s eager hand. The dancer sauntered behind them languidly.

“Don’t worry you’ll be too busy getting lost in how awesome we’re about to make you feel~” the lyricist promised. “Mira and I have a bet on if you’ll purr or growl when you co—”

“Zoey!” Rumi huffed, pushing the maknae away with a striped palm to her grinning face. “Eugh!” she gasped in surprise not moment later when she felt a wet tongue lick her hand, retching it away to wipe on her briefs.

“Get used to that,” Mira chuckled into her ear, her hands finding the half-demon’s waist, slowly taking in the view of her girls. “Zoey’s very good with her tongue~” she couldn’t wait to eat the shiver raking through Rumi’s spine.

“Hehe! But you’ll get to know all about that yourself soon enough~” Zoey purred, though she halted a bit as she could already see Rumi’s mind begin reel at the mental image of such a promise. “I-If we get that far, I mean!” she added quickly with a wave of her hand. “Whatever you’re comfy doing tonight, k?” she smiled that sweet smile that always melted the singer’s heart as she rolled up on her toes to plant a kiss on Rumi’s nose.

She could have melted, nearly did but something on her mind was itching to come out. “Um….one more thing?” she started hesitantly, her girls glanced back at her with soft concern. Rumi took a deep breath, “could we…maybe try it on my bed?” she asked quietly. Mira and Zoey had thought keeping to the couch was best to soothe her nerves when in reality the reason their little half-demon was so uncomfortable with the idea of the prior couple’s bedrooms is because some part of her mind felt she was invading their territory. Infringing on their relationship. Trespassing. It held over her head like an anvil waiting to drop. If the trio were serious about being a trio, and especially after so much laundry had just been openly washed on the bathroom floor, then maybe doing it in her space this time would put her at ease.

She watched a twin set of eyes light up in a swirl of shining pride and delicious sin, and stifled the urge to laugh.

“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshhmygoshohmygoshhh!!!!!” Zoey all but screamed as she raced to the living room to grab her phone, “I gotta get my playlist!”

Rumi and Mira both looked after her with an endearing grin. “Oh, this should be good~” the dancer hummed darkly as her hands squeezed around the shorter girl’s waist to pull her back flush against her chest. Rumi shuddered. Despite her more demonic traits being dormant, she realized her sense of touch was still very much heighted. She could feel each swell of the girl’s lungs behind her, the pulse of her heart and the lilt of her tongue as she leaned down to nip at her ear excitedly before leading the way back to their leader’s bed.

This was going to be a very, very long night.

Chapter Text

“Remember, it’s ok to change your mind later, or ask for a break if you need it,” Mira said to her as they stepped through the threshold of the singer’s bedroom, overlooking the chilling dusk of the city. Stars were just beginning to poke their heads out from slumber as the sun left them in peace below the horizon, fighting to be seen against the shining city lights below, which were just awaking up themselves.

Rumi’s room was not only objectively tidiest of the three but the most simplistic in appearance…

Zoey’s room wasn’t even a competition—with plush toys lining the shelves, stickers adorning the surfaces of her dresser and desk, and glow-in-the-dark stars littering the ceiling, her room looked like all of her special interests had thrown up everywhere. Not to mention she probably rearranged her furniture at least three times a year. Then there was Mira, who kept a more orderly space than the maknae for sure, but still had hints of her signature edge in every corner. Band posters hung on the walls crookedly—sometimes held up by duct-tape—her comforter was a mismatch of prints, her wardrobe painted solid black with jagged crystal handles. Though the perceived edge was always softened by the odd heart shaped pillow or throw rug, as if to reflect what an actual softie Zoey always teased her for being.

Their leader’s sleeping quarters on the other hand, her sanctuary….devoid of personality perhaps might not have been the correct way to describe it, because it very well did establish who Rumi was a person. Enough framed photos lined the shelves to count on one hand, a perfectly healthy potted plant was situated here and there, but other than that, no true processions or mementos adorned the space beyond the teddybear her mother had left her before she passed. It was simple as a room meant for sleep could get, but that in and of itself revealed everything about her. Specifically, the desire to control how she was perceived. Control the facade of perfection which masked the turmoil that had coiled inside her all of her life. It was everything Celine had raised her to be, no obvious faults to be seen upon entry, no specificity to be used as fuel for scrutiny. Sterile. Clean. Flawless. Not a speck of anything which could imply a window into her, as if not to encourage introspective questions. Not let anyone dwell on the thought of her. Perhaps not even herself…

“—We won’t get upset,” the dancer continued, hands flattening over the striped midriff under her fingertips, aware of how it quivered beneath her touch. Rumi’s patterns sizzled deliciously against her palm, as if expectant themselves of what was to come. Mira wondered how it would feel to press her lips against them.

“Kinda worried that stopping will make me lose my nerve,” Rumi forced an awkward chuckle, very cognizant of how the hairs on her neck were standing up under the visual’s warm breath baring against her skin. She suppressed a shiver.

“Don’t be,” Mira assured easily, in that confident way that made it difficult for her mind to have doubt. “You’d be surprised how much of a second wind it gives you, actually. Which you’ll be needing for how much stamina Zoey has—”

“Ya! Don’t start without me!” speaking of the space-bunned devil, their missing third came barreling into the room a moment later, arms stuffed with an assortment LED spheres, salt lamps and plastic lights shaped like little animals. “I didn’t know which one would be the best vibe so I just brought all of them!” she declared boisterously, dumping her glowing menagerie onto the plush arm chair in the corner of the room.

She was practically vibrating in excitement. It was finally happening— the night her and Mira had been waiting for, dreaming of. She felt like a kid on Christmas morning again… and couldn’t wait to unwrap her present.

“I think you forgot Zo,” Mira’s expression held something mischievous as she parted her lips against Rumi’s ear. “—We have our own personal mood lamp right here~” her hands smoothed possessively over Rumi’s front.

As if on queue, the room was basked in gold as their lead singer blushed, the shine from her patterns only growing in intensity as she found herself caught in a cycle of being shy, seeing her embarrassment illuminated in front of the trio’s eyes, and growing even more shy. Mira’s chuckle was mirthful honey in her ear.

Zoey smacked her forehead, “oh yeah, duh!” She skipped forward until she stood in front of the embraced pair, a happy and somewhat insidious smirk on a lips, “and we get to find out where all the buttons are don’t we?” she hummed with a tilt of her cheeky head, drumming her fingers over the half-demon’s hips.

Rumi felt her heart pick up, her gaze averting as she consciously told her legs not to run as she felt her knees shudder beneath her. Gravity was hitting her again, like it did the first time the three of them had tried this, but before she could shrink any further into her own spiraling thoughts, small hands quickly found hers, and the arms behind her give a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, you’ve got nothing to worry about, we’ve got you,” the maknae assured with that bright look in her brown eyes that always engulfed the singer like a warm blanket fresh out of the drier.

“We’re right here,” Mira echoed in her ear, her sharp cheek resting on the shorter woman’s shoulder so their cheeks touched.

“We’re gonna to take good care of you, aein. Ok?” Zoey looked up at her as though she meant the entire world. Which of course she did. Rumi was all that and so much more to the both of them. As they were her.

Rumi took a steadying breath, focusing on that love directed towards her, letting herself focus on the tender skin resting against hers, letting it ground her. She was sandwiched by her two very favorite people. Their bodies bordering hers, like a shield surrounding her. It was a safe feeling.

“Ok,” she agreed with a shaky smile, “I trust you both,” she blinked between both of them. Her smile widened as Zoey squealed, hopping in place a bit like there was too much energy buzzing through her body to stand still. “Gaja gaja gaja!” she chanted happily, leading the singer with both hands to the edge of her own bed where she spun her around practically tossed her onto it.

Zoey was so cute, Rumi often forgot just how brutal she could be in speed and strength. She landed on her back onto the plush teal comforter with a soft, “oof” before Zoey belly flopped onto the mattress beside her a moment later, shaking the entire thing like the ripples of a wave. Rumi snickered, taking in the sight of her happy girl on top of her own bed; a space she had kept solely to herself for so long. Her only slice of sanctuary where she didn’t have to hide. Of course that meant entry for her bandmates had always been on a strict, invitation-only basis. The click of the lock always stung like the lump in the singer’s throat each time she closed her door. Shutting them out. Keeping herself hidden from them. Isolating herself as if she had some disease. This space was a cage just as much as it was a safe haven in certain ways—one she kept the keys to herself. But watching Zoey beside her, kicking her feet and giggling on top of the bed Rumi had spent for too many nights crying herself to sleep gently, feeling so alone and suffocated, the singer could feel the energy of these four walls shift into something else in real time.

Her chest felt raw, like a healed bone finally removed of its bandages. Unsure of how to function after so much time spent restrained but liberated at last to once again strengthen itself.

That tenderness of her heart however, quickly shifted as an aroused sense of trepidation washed over her as her gaze found the dancer. She approached her on the bed on all fours like a panther, smoothly and seductively, coming to rest on her hands and knees on the other side of the half-demon.

Rumi quickly became very conscious that she didn’t know the first thing about foreplay. “Um…” she blurted out, a bit too loudly, brown eyes darted between the pair as the duo set towards her like sharks stalking water towards the scent of fresh blood. Experienced and prepared. Meanwhile she was struggling to tread the surface. “What should I—?”

“Nothing,” Mira stopped her question before it started, just as a warm hand shut down the half-demon’s anxious fiddling of her hands against the mattress. “For now, at least. Let us do the leading for once, yeah?” She cocked her head easily.

Rumi swallowed, hoping the sound wasn’t as audible as it was to her own ears. She nodded softly.

“Speaking of leading~” Zoey hummed, wasting no time straddling the older girl’s waist. Rumi’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the soft skin of the rapper’s thigh brush against her exposed waist. It stalled in her brain, and a part of her was thankful Zoey still had her clothes on…if she hadn’t the singer genuinely questioned if she’d just shut down on the spot.

Eager fingers danced up the side of her patterned ribs as Zoey eyed her down like a cat might its new toy. And just as she went in for the bite she was briskly pulled way by the firm and smooth hand of the dancer.

“Hey!” She complained, flopping back against the mattress, watching as Mira was more than happy to take her spot on Rumi’s lap, the former’s mind dragging to catch up again. “I got dibs!” Zoey whined, cheeks flaring in that adorably indignant way they always did when she got fussy over something unimportant like when Mira purposefully regurgitated turtle facts she knew Zoey knew she knew were painfully incorrect just to get a rise out of the shorter girl and watch her stamp her feet in protest. It was like watching a puppy get angry it couldn’t reach its favorite ball.

“Maknae eats last,” Mira shot her a smolderingly wicked smirk behind her shoulder before turning to Rumi to taste her lips with a performative hunger. The singer couldn’t help but laugh at the disgruntled little huff she heard leave the youngest’s lips.

Mira’s taste was easy to get lost in. Her kisses were always so controlled, always specific on where they were leading to, the singer didn’t have to think, she could just be. Let Mira take the lead, as she said.

The visual stared her down when they parted, eyes sharp and analytic, seeming to look over every inch of the half-demon’s face. Rumi felt like a lamb lost in a field, being stared down by a wolf from the brush, searching for any signs of a weak point to target, before eyes locked and the best lunged at its meal. It was hot…as it was admittedly a bit nerve wracking, as the longer Mira stared, the more Rumi’s mind began to wander to the incorrect conclusions—

“W-what?” she asked, a curious fear lacing her, as anxiety stabbed her gut. She blanched, a hand flying to her forehead to find—

No. Her horns weren’t there.

She rolled her tongue around her teeth.

Her fangs were still present, yes, but they weren’t ghastly long enough to be all too noticeable.

Mira pulled the girl’s wrists away from her head with such severity it caught Rumi off guard.

“Relax pretty girl,” she said cooly, giving a squeeze to her hands, “you’re not going demon again,” she assured, ever the mind reader. “I was just committing this moment to memory,” the visual explained, slowly, like her tongue was taking pleasure in the fact it had all the time in the world with this girl trembling beneath her. “I want to recall exactly how you looked, right before we made you ours,” she leaned in close, breath heavy and hot as she whispered, “before you feel the ache of us tugging at you the morning like a reminder of how good we ruined you~”

“Ah—” a sound between a gasp and squeak left Rumi’s lips before she could help it, quivering at the slithering sensation which reached all the way down between her legs like a heartbeat.

Mira chuckled knowingly, a far from innocent smile tugging into her cheeks before she leaned back and curled a finger in the air. Rumi stalled for a moment before she realized…it wasn’t for her.

In a flash of black she was tackled onto the mattress, Zoey sicking on her like an attack dog, shoving her onto her back as she locked their lips together. The total of the three extra minutes she had to wait her turn surely had done wonders to wear on her patience— she practically devoured Rumi’s mouth like she was starving, leaving the singer breathless and little dizzy by the time she pulled away.

“Speaking of making you ours…” Zoey drawled happily, fingers skittering over very much clothed breasts. Rumi still twitched regardless, at the maknae’s lack of hesitation if anything. “Mi-Mi these are an awful lot of clothes don’t you think?” She threw a lazy chin over towards the visual, who’d taken to watching Zoey’s ravenous descent on their dazed leader with a mirthful, lazy contentment—legs crossed as she shifted her weight onto one arm so her other could rest casually on her hip. Even when she wasn’t doing anything she looked like she was modeling.

“I’m literally just in underwear,” Rumi stated, not in defense but more in incredulous observation.

“Yeah, and it’s hiding all the fun parts~” Mira all but purred, shifting to lean in closer. “Let us see just how far those patterns go tigress,” the visual murmured into her ear before smooth lips found a striped neck, feeling how those demonic markings sizzled against her mouth. It reminded her of those popping candy rocks Zoey had all but forced her and Rumi to try while the group had toured America. She smirked softly at the memory of the singer all but convulsing in shock at the mini-explosions in her mouth which maknae had conveniently forgot to mention to them, filming their reactions with impish giggles—but Mira hadn’t found the sensation all that unpleasant herself, like she wasn’t right now as those patterns tingled over her tongue. Though to her, they tasted far sweeter than any candy.

Zoey seemed to be just as intrigued with the unique markings dressing Rumi’s body as well, licking over her skin like lightning bolts of color; eyes transfixed by the way light pulsed under each touch of her lips. It was like the throbbing of those deep sea fish the rapper absolutely adored watching documentaries on, or bioluminescent plants that only existed in deep caves. Reactive and alive as they flickered seemingly with a life of their own beyond the half-demon’s intentional control.

As Mira busied herself with their leader’s throat, a hand strayed over the hem of the girl’s bra. And where Zoey peppered little kisses of her own over the singer’s collarbone, her hand toyed with the waistband of Rumi’s panties.

Fingertips worked in tandem, subtly hooking under the edges of fabric, beginning to tug at the material. Rumi’s breath stalled in her throat, and at first the pair were only fueled to go further, to see what other little reactions they could summon from her, before the singer was suddenly recoiling away from their touch, subtly but harshly, as if pricked by something sharp.

Rumi leaned back, palms against the mattress behind her as she panted gently. Rapidly blinking eyes fell down to her knees, not seeing anything in front of her—only seeing the past. Feeling the past. Feeling hands clutching at her arms, tugging, tearing, ripping her jacket from her body to expose her shame to a sea nameless witnesses. Intentional and without mercy.

She closed her eyes tightly as if to forget the pain which had spurned in her ribs from the pounding of her heart as her entire world had come crashing down in a matter of seconds that night; when the two people she trusted most turned on her without warning and with clear prior planning. Of course none of it had been real—but the fear, the betrayal, the hurt she had experienced that night of Idol Awards, was very much so. The aching memory of her worst nightmare come true hung in her throat like a bitter pill she struggled to swallow, scratching at the inside of her throat as it went down as if refusing to be forgotten so easily, despite the illusion of it all.

She blinked her eyes open again, remembering she was very much in the present now, for better…and possibly for worse if the growing concern and confusion on her friend’s faces was anything to go by. Her gaze flickered between either pair before falling down to her knees again; patterns licked with purple shame.

“S-sorry…” she hated how weak she sounded as heat swaddled over her cheeks. Her fists gripped the fabric of the sheets in their grasp. Her patterns deepening to bathe the room in a sickly violet. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her leg from bouncing nervously, trying to ignore the painful prick of her fangs against her flesh. Nothing had even happened yet and she was already messing everything up—

A hand appeared on her thigh, its thumb stroking little circles over an angry pattern, coaxing it to cool to a soft lavender. Shuddering eyes looked up, somewhat reluctantly, to Zoey. “—How about we go first?” The youngest offered kindly, her determination fierce yet patient. Understanding. The rapper had always been gifted with the uncanny ability to ease the tension of any predicament. Something Rumi was eternally grateful for, as she felt the panic within her subside marginally.

“I can help you with Zoey~” Mira offered with a hum beside her, as if attempting to plant a ‘yes’ on the half-demon’s tongue, egging her on with raised, suggestive brows. “She does this little shiver when you drag your hand over her ribs,” she whispered like she was trying to only share with Rumi, but was intentionally loud enough to be heard by the lyricist, which granted both the elder two women an adorably pink blush. Zoey froze, eyes wide.

“Let me show you…” Mira purred.

With that she was guiding Rumi’s hands to Zoey’s shirt. With a slender palm over the back of patterned knuckles she moved their hands to the flat skin of the maknae’s stomach where they moved up, slowly, pushing the article up with them, revealing soft bit by bit of flesh, inch by inch. The purple light which highlighted the rapper’s skin slowly shifted in a gentle blue, icy and cool, intercut with shades of white.

The visual took the time to show her how to drag her fingers across Zoey’s skin with intention, how to let her touch linger over the side of the girl’s chest just a moment or two too long until a delicate little shudder rippled across the lyricist’s skin like ripples over water.

Something shuddered through Rumi as well. Something longing, and hungry in her chest, awakening for the first time. Something that wanted more. Something that wanted to experiment with what touches would produce what sounds. Something that wanted to watch the younger girl squirm and squeal under her touch. Something that wanted to play with its food.

That desire was only emboldened as Mira pulled Zoey’s shirt above her head, revealing no bra and a clear view of delicate twin mounds of firm, voluptuous muscle. Rumi’s eyes widened, lips parting in gentle awe for moment before they snapped shut as Mira pinned Zoey back onto the mattress hands holding her wrists down to the sheets as she suckled over her neck. Their leader clenched her jaw as she watched them intently, like a hawk might watch a rabbit meander through the heather, oblivious to danger. Like watching prey. Something dormant inside of her was rubbing sleep from its eyes for the first time.

The lyricist laughed with a boisterous glee, weakly fighting back playfully as Mira’s lips raked down her body, right down the valley of her breasts and down to her waist. Zoey bit her pink lip as wickedly dark brown eyes watched down at her, drinking in the sight of the maknae in her grip before the visual leant down to place a gentle kiss over her belly.

Rumi forgot how to allow oxygen into her lungs has she watched the dancer proceed to the grab the hem of Zoey’s panties by her teeth and drag it down her legs with her fucking mouth. The singer’s body was taut, every nerve ending alert and attuned into every moment she was watching unfold in front of her with a burning face and gently throbbing thighs.

Mira flung the piece of underwear to the floor with little regard as small hands took hold of her chin to pull her into a smiling kiss.

The two of them were so shameless, so enamored with one another. Their passion was so…easy. It was comforting to watch in a way. They knew each others’ body so well already, the way an artisan had honed in on their craft. They knew how to draw sweet sounds from the other’s lips, to make each other tremble, to whine, to coo, to beg. And Rumi was about to learn all their sweet tells…and they, hers.

Rumi’s patterns shimmered with a new shade of gold, darker than it usually was, more like an amber than the typical honey. Like the intensity of her eyes, mixed with hints of blue and the subtlest of white. Happy giggling broke her from her cloudy thoughts of lust. She blinked to find two beaming faces grinning at her like one greeted fresh powdery rooftops on the first day of winter. Surprise and wondrous delight, albeit, with something much darker promised within their expression.

“Our mood lamp is working~” Zoey sang with a smug sense of mirth.

“And I think we found a new setting~” Mira smirked, just as mischievously, her eyes practically undressing the already scantily clad girl before them. “Damn Rumi, is that your demon or are you just happy to see us?”

“—!” Rumi’s tongue sputtered uselessly, patterns returning to that lighter gold as she couldn’t discern if they or her face was burning hotter in embarassment. Zoey giggled at her reaction like a child scolded for telling a dirty joke before she grabbed Rumi’s chin to pull her downwards into a kiss of their own. The singer shivered as she felt Mira’s hand appear on her back soon after, stroking over her skin as she watched her girls embrace, doting approval in her eyes.

“You’re so cute!” The maknae cooed when they pulled apart, a contentment plastered on her lips, as though Rumi were a wonderfully tasting sweet. Rumi smiled back before her heart caught in her throat at the realization that she was hovering over a very nude Zoey, looking incredibly adorable and supple beneath her, caged between her toned, patterned arms as her palms rested on either side of the rapper’s small shoulders. The half-demon surprised herself, however, to realize in that moment that the emotional coursing through her blood wasn’t embarrassment for once, but…she couldn’t describe it. A protectiveness? Possessiveness? She looked down at this silly girl beneath her with an all consuming sensation coiling through her veins—the acknowledgment that Zoey was undeniably hers, and she’d sooner jump into the depths of the underworld herself than see a frown ever befall those sweet lips if she could help it.

The singer leaned down to steal another kiss. A kiss that belonged to her. She felt the happy smile against her mouth which she couldn’t help but match, something satisfying scratched an unknown itch in her soul as her desire was both reciprocated and emboldened as hands caressed over her hair, deft fingers seeming keen to learn just how much they could manage to untangle those painstakingly braided purple locks before the night’s end.

They pulled apart, Zoey beaming up at her like they were the only two people to exist in the world before she used her hands to bow Rumi’s head so she could better place a kiss over her forehead with an almost cartoonishly audible smack of wet lips. Her freckled face was a light below her—Rumi always appreciated the way that made her eyes stand out, though the rapper was always less than enthused by them sadly—before that radiant grin morphed into something ravenous as she bellowed, “Mira’s turn! GET HER!” She declared her intentions like a battlecry sitting up and practically pouncing on the dancer. Mira laughed softly, letting herself topple onto her back as her face was peppered with quick, sweet kisses.

Zoey’s hands slid beneath Mira’s top, pushing up and up until the thing was at her neck, impatience for as much of their skin to touch as possible guiding her every movement. Rumi swallowed thickly as Mira’s supple breasts stared back at her. Her tongue felt wet watching those erect nipples bathed in the iridescent light of the room. Her light; illuminating her girls. Bathing them in herself. Joining them together as one. As hers.

That possessive…something inside of her skull stirred again.

Zoey only ceased her praises on the dancer’s face to lift her top free of her torso, tossing it to a forgotten corner of the room, before stealing one more, deep kiss on her lips, just for good measure.

“You’re up, Rumi-ya~” Mira goaded, rolling languidly onto her stomach like a contented cat, eyeing the singer down with an appetite Rumi couldn’t articulate, but one that made her stomach drop in an odd combination of fear and arousal. Her ass faced upwards, only hidden by a thin layer of black fabric, just waiting to be removed. Waiting for her.

“Don’t worry she can’t bite you from all the way up there,” Zoey waved away Rumi’s hesitance with a limp wrist before guiding Rumi’s hands to pull at the lacy magenta hem of the article.

The singer tried not to focus on how much her hands trembled as the smooth skin of Mira’s ass revealed itself before her. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as she slowly palmed down long, slender legs—toned and firm from years of vigorous choreography. They were a carefully curated collection of muscles, shaped to the woman who strutted them’s liking…just as everything else she carried herself with. Her skin was so warm—

Zoey’s snicker made Rumi realize she’d halted her palms at Mira’s calves to actively stare. Her face became engulfed in heat as both companions stared at her with amusement, patiently waited for her to realize she was being watched. “Get lost along the way Ru?” Mira purred deliciously, the sound butter to the singer’s ears, stabbing a sizzlingly sweet buzz into the pit of her stomach.

“It’s a straight line, I didn’t think it be that hard,” the rapper jested, a cocky grin toying on her lips.

“Something tells me our Rumi doesn’t handle ‘straight’ too well,” Mira drawled.

“HA! That makes three of us!” Zoey reveled heartily… Rumi was too busy mentally replaying the dancer’s words. She couldn’t tell if she was mentally buffering over the teasing itself or the words, ‘our Rumi’ more. Her chest fluttered. She swallowed as she quickly flitted the rest of her underwear over and off Mira’s ankles to fold it neatly, admittedly unsure what else to do with the thing as she looked up just in time to see Zoey plant a kiss on the soft top of Mira’s ass. The rapper leaned up to do the same on her shoulder, working down the dip of her back, all the while the woman below her watched with patient, carnivorous eyes—like a snake waiting to strike. Her opportunity arrived moments after the maknae shot her a mischievous glance and sunk her teeth into her the soft flesh of her rear.

A smirk flashed on dark lips before Mira flipped over with exceptional speed, taking the lyricist with her and trapping her in an embrace from above.

Zoey was a fit of happy laughter as Mira sucked beneath her jaw over a particularly ticklish spot. Rumi smiled at the sound, patterns seeping in blue. It caught the pair’s eyes, shooting their playfulness towards her at full force.

“Aw,” Zoey fawned with a click of her tongue, “someone’s watching~”

“And enjoying the show~” Mira hummed, pleasure rumbling from her chest.

Zoey giggled cheekily behind closed lips. “Hey turn the lights down, Rumi, we’re having a moment here,” she hummed her lips finding the dancer’s once more.

“Zoey!” Rumi croaked, the gold lighting up her arms didn’t help how flustered she was. Her girls laughed. Mira grabbed Rumi’s wrist without warning to pull her into a burning kiss, just shy of the teeth. The intensity of it took the singer by surprise, but the feeling didn’t last before she felt another pair of lips planting themselves over her collarbone from below, melting her on the spot with a soft moan. The singer could feel her bandmate’s shiver of excitement at her sound in real time as their passion only doubled. She didn’t know whose hand was whose. Where one body ended and the other began, as skin caressed skin. Warm and desperate. Well…most of her skin anyway. She was still wearing—

“Ready to try again?” Mira asked directly, wasting no time to tiptoe around the topic, slender fingers caressed the hem of Rumi’s bra softly, as if pondering. “We can go one at a time if that’s less overwhelming?” her words were careful, lacking any and all teasing as she made sure the singer felt safe under the weight of her question, aware that going forward would mark the furthest they’d ever gone with the half-demon. The visual would be damned if she allowed her—or Zoey’s for that matter—excitement to jump the gun for the trio again. Pressure Rumi in anyway—corner her.

“Um…” Rumi tried to ignore the sudden dryness on her tongue, as she forced the awkwardness out of her mouth before its weight could stop her voice. “A-actually is it alright if I do it myself?” she was painfully cognizant of how much of a wrench it threw into the current pacing of their activities but her companions didn’t seem to find it so. They only nodded supportively, giving her space to do what she needed.

Self-consciousness crept up Rumi’s skin as she felt their gaze on her body, but with a few glances up to their eyes, she saw the patience in them. The adoration. They didn’t care that they didn’t get to take part this time…they just cared about her. That she was finally comfortable to do this with them. That she felt safe enough. And frankly, their pride in her far outweighed any possible disappointment Rumi was projecting onto them. Because the girl was most certainly projecting disappointment onto herself at the moment.

As her own hands found the edges of her bra and begin lifting up, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of…something… a regretful kind of sorrow, perhaps. What would Mira’s hands have felt like lifting her top? She wondered. Would they intentionally brushed over her nipples as they passed? Subtly but purposefully, in that aloof sort of way the dancer always pulled off flawlessly. What about Zoey? Would she steal a nip at her unsuspecting thighs as she pulled down her underwear, tease her by stopping at her knees to pepper kisses over her freshly freed hips?

Purple sizzled at the edges of her patterns as an ache rattled in Rumi’s chest. Though her girls were right next to her, they felt so far away at the same time…but she didn’t think she could handle the reality of their hands pulling clothes off her skin. Not yet anyway. Not so soon.

“—Yeppeun!” Zoey fawned, drinking in the sight of her.

The half-demon realized with a blush that she was done with her task. She’d blacked out admittedly, too lost in her own scorching thoughts to remember tossing the remainder of her clothes to the side just moments ago.

“Jeongmal yeppeuneyo~” Mira agreed languidly, eyes trailing over those colorful stripes that did indeed reach everywhere. Over every curve, every dip in her skin. They wrapped around her ankles and stretched up her thighs, curled around her stomach and over her breasts to glide down from shoulder to finger tip. They’d seen her before of course, but unlike the bathhouse they now had tantalizing permission to look disrespectfully for once. To let their gaze linger. To stare. To ogle. And best of all, to worship.

Rumi blushed, fidgeting a little self-consciously, unsure what to do with herself as their reverent silence lingered, her companions practically drooling over her skin. Mira was the first to come to, blinking slowly as she leaned forward as if to better appreciate the sight before her, but Zoey was the first to engage contact, gently placing their lips together—a sudden shyness to her movements Rumi wasn’t missed on.

The half-demon didn’t remember telling her eyes to close, or her hand to cup the maknae’s face, it just happened. Zoey leaned into the touch with a little grin, placing her own hand on top of it as if to positively reinforce the meek bit of contact. The rapper mewled as another hand joined Rumi’s; Mira’s slender fingers introducing themselves to her raven locks.

“You really are,” Zoey reaffirmed softly as they pulled apart, like the words were a delicate thing on her tongue, not to be handled carelessly. And when that delivery was all said and done she moved right along with her signature bubbly tone, ringing in Rumi’s ears in the best of ways. “—Like it kind of drives me insane how fucking pretty you are, like I thought I’d be used to it by now but somehow I think I’m even more crazy about you than when we first met,” she rambled with erratic enthusiasm.

Rumi blushed, but her patterns weren’t gold for once, they were that delectable opal shade again. Like the glimmers of light off a pearl, sunshine refracting through stained glass, the Honmoon pulsing just below them. Blissful.

“You are too, Zoey,” she hummed leaning forward to kiss the spot between Zoey’s bright eyes, eating up the happy twitch the youngest gave her. “Both of you are,” she affirmed genuinely, giving Mira her due turn as well, pecking at the corner of her sharp lips. She felt the dancer’s throat thrum against her at her words, like it was information Mira already knew but still appreciated hearing from one of her favorite people. She turned her head to steal a proper kiss before Rumi left her reach.

“You know, Zoey totally has a spam account that she reposts thirst-trap fancams of the two of us on, right? ” The visual informed slyly, half teasingly and half exceptionally proud of their youngest. She couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at Rumi’s bewildered and, admittedly intrigued, expression.

“You what!?” The singer gawked, eyes blown wide towards the rapper.

Zoey was unfazed, only grinning happily and eager to share. “I’ll send you the link to my bookmarks folder later some of those edits go stupid!” she gushed, taking the half-demon’s hands in her own excitedly.

Mira snickered leaning in close to the maknae. “The edits are nice but…kind of irrelevant when the real thing’s right here,” she kissed Zoey, punctuating her thought. Rumi watched in real time as she melted into Mira’s warm lips.

The dancer pulled away first before turning her attention back to Rumi who closed the distance between them herself at about halfway, like she was impatient to taste Zoey off of the eldest’s lips. Their mouth collided, midway between languid and wired. Content. Desirable. Patient.

Zoey didn’t have too much of that last adjective…

Rumi giggled when the rapper’s mouth appeared at her jawline to pepper it with needy kisses, as if to whine ‘don’t forget about me’ . As if either of her companions ever could?

Her attention was snapped back to Mira though, as gentle teeth tugged at the half-demon’s soft bottom lip. Rumi whined at the unexpected sensation, feeling her girlfriend smile against her. With that, the dancer coaxed her lips to stay parted in order to sink her tongue between them. Slow at first, gaging how Rumi could handle it, something soft and hungry sparking in her stomach as she practically felt how the singer’s mind short circuited at that. Surprised but delighted. Patterns flaring a shuddering display of white, gold, and blue. Mira only pressed deeper at that, as if encouraged—she’d always been gifted at reading people but with Rumi’s patterns acting like a mood ring she could practically read the girl’s mind.

She took the time to rake her tongue over the little daggers in the singer’s mouth. Mira wondered how sharp Rumi’s fangs were… if she were to put more pressure on them would they…?

Her curiosity would have to be sated later, she decided, Mira could practically feel Zoey’s impatience from beside them and pulled away with a wet pop to let her have a turn, finding interest herself in alert, patterned breasts, kissed with sparkling light which illuminated the edges of the half-demon’s supple pink skin.

Rumi looked as though she were made of porcelain. A sight that made the visual dizzy in the most tantalizing of ways.

Where Mira’s mouth was intentional, poised and patient, Zoey’s was playful. Nipping at Rumi’s lips, kissing as deep as she possibly could only to pull away a moment later and leave Rumi reaching back desperately to reconnect their lips—all the while the bubble of giggle lingered in the rapper’s throat, barely contained as she knew exactly what she was doing to the poor girl.

Tentative patterned fingers ghosted over the lyricist’s collarbone; Zoey grinned into the kiss, eagerly guiding those shy hands to rest over her shoulders more firmly. “There you go, jagiya,” the maknae murmured encouragingly as she broke apart sporadically to speak, as if afraid to keep their mouths apart for too long. “Just like that, baby~”

Rumi was so lost in the sensation of Zoey’s flesh beneath her palms that she nearly jumped out of her skin at the feeling of a sudden coldness against her nipples. She tried pulled away in surprise but Zoey was having none of that—pushing into her harder as if to swallow up her gasp like it was ambrosia.

Mira chuckled, licking her own fingertips again to circle the little buds on the singer’s chest, watching how they stood to attention beneath her touch with rapt intrigue. The patterns licking over Rumi’s breasts sizzled like coals thrown on a fire. The visual licked her lips.

“God you have no idea how long we’ve waited to do this with you,” she murmured, more to herself than Rumi, but still loud enough for the singer to intentionally hear. Lust weighed down her voice so heavily it was a surprise sound could even reach high enough to leave her throat.

Zoey broke their kiss to look down at her—standing on her knees above the singer, she was was affectively taller than her; Rumi acknowledged in that moment that it was a sight she could get used to. “And you were so fucking worth the wait, babe,” the lyricist finished the visual’s thought with a wanton breathiness, before her lips were attacking the half-demon’s again, like she very well could have died if she didn’t have them, as if Rumi was her oxygen supply.

The bed shifted as Mira moved closer to the pair to rest her hand steadily on Rumi’s back between patterned shoulder blades, watching her face carefully for any signs of discomfort as her other hand dragged its nails along the underside of her left breast. She ate up the singer’s full body shiver, how her skin prickled with goosebumps, how her patterns flared hot from the delicious assault.

As if on cue, Zoey brought her own hand down to fondle Rumi’s right breast; it was more direct than Mira’s touch, more playful rather than teasing. The maknae’s free hand fell down to find purchase on Rumi’s left hip.

The pair moved in silent conversation with one another, like a rehearsed dance they’d memorized by heart. Their movements were too in sync to be spontaneous—

“Did…have you guys been planning this?” Rumi uttered, suspicion too strong as she broken from Zoey’s lips briefly. Was she just overthinking things again or did the two of them actually—

“For this specific moment or in general?” Zoey chuckled suggestively with haughtiness on her tongue, no hesitancy was apparent in her demeanor. Rather pride. A mischievous giddiness, like she was delighted to be caught redhanded. Rumi felt a hot weight in her belly. “Because yes~” the rapper said the word like it tasted delicious in her mouth. Rumi wondered if Zoey could also taste her heart where it had just jumped into her throat as they kissed again.

They separated momentarily as Mira pulled Zoey away to take in a kiss of her own to the maknae’s fiery sweet lips, like she was eager to taste the giddiness off her tongue. Or maybe to celebrate the achievement the two women were silently sharing together. Or to give Rumi a chance to breathe.

Perhaps a bit of all three.

“Don’t poof away into smoke when I tell you this, Rumi, but you may or may not have been a popular pillow talk topic for us over the years.” Mira’s matter of fact demeanor made her words even more of a bombshell; Rumi felt dizzy.

“W-what?” She gaped, barely feeling the words on her own tongue, only her heart hammering in her chest.

Zoey hummed, “yeah,” she murmured listlessly, eyes lidding as softly as the finger tips tracing along the edges of the singer’s mouth. “You’re kind of an enigma to us Ru-Ru,” she drawled, a giggle in her chest, “you’re so secretive how could we not stay up fangirling about all the little wonders you keep to yourself,” a haze formed over her chocolate eyes, as they drifted down. Rumi couldn’t even begin to fathom what sinful thoughts were buzzing through the rapper’s head. “Wondering what your lips taste like…” she murmured.

“What it feels like to touch you…” Mira muttered in addition, the sharp nails of her right hand dragging down the smoldering patterns along Rumi’s spine.

“To be touched by you…” Zoey added with a sultry little smile, her fingers tugged Rumi’s lips apart, not allowing her to swallow the groan which escaped her throat at the tingle of skin under the dancer’s skilled nails.

“What sounds you would make for us…” Mira cooed, her voice was laced with a haughtiness. When did she get so close?

“How loud you are…”

“Or how quiet~”

The two of them were boxing her in from either side, she realized drunkenly…

“What tells would you have for when you were about to come…”

Rumi shuddered. Both their lips hovered tantalizingly against either sides of her temples. She could feel their voices against her skin. She didn’t realize she was squeezing her thighs together.

“Would your eyes glaze over or shut when it happened…”

“Would you tremble or tense through the waves...”

“Would you cry out our names?”

“Would you even be able speak at all?”

“How hard would you come undone for us…”

“How hard could we ruin you—”

“Ah—” their leader whimpered beneath them, body quivering. Delicate. Appetizing. Theirs.

Rumi felt warm, exposed but not necessarily in a negative way. Like she was clothed by Mira and Zoey’s fond gaze. Enveloped by it. They wanted her, in every sense of the word, and were so ready to have her. She felt like prey about to be devoured by two foaming carnivores staring down at her, taut with anticipation. A meal for consumption to appease a frothingly savage appetite.

Finally. Finally, their girl was under their touch, whimpering and twitching, imagery their imaginations had salivated over for years in spculation. So many explicit curiosities were so close to being answered. The thrill of a wait long over rattled through every nerve ending of the former couple’s bodies. There was still so much up in the air: how would she take it? Would Rumi be a blushing flower or a fire waiting to be ignited? The anticipation in the air could have been cut with a knife.

They’d taken every precaution they could think of. Planned for every contingency. Every hiccup. Every possible negative reaction. Maybe a little too much…but the girl sitting below them, trembling under their gaze with wide eyes, fragile and trusting—albeit nervous— was still so much of a mystery to them. And with how they’d treated her before when she was in such a vulnerable state—shivering, afraid, eyes pricked with tears and guilt as she pleaded, begged them not to abandon her—Mira and Zoey had folded. They didn’t even hesitate to call their entire life’s training into question for the sake of their friend, and they’d almost lost her completely that night for it…

Mira and Zoey owed it to her this time to be ready. To be present. To pick her up and carry her when she needed them most. To make up for that awful night of the Idol Awards every opportunity they had.

Rumi deserved it more than words could describe.

“You think she knows how special she is?” Mira voiced aloud, tone pensive as her eyes never left the half-demon’s face whilst she spoke to her companion.

“I don’t think we can ever lay it on thick enough~” Zoey answered, a fond grin tugging at her lips.

Rumi only looked up at them silently, wide eyes darting between them with parted wet lips which trembled with each ragged and quiet breath that escaped from her, like she was afraid to make too much noise as if it would signal those predators to pounce.

“What are you feeling right now?” Mira asked suddenly, breaking the delicious silence with soft, unteasing, eyes. Checking in on her girl. Making sure she knew she was safe. Heard. Seen. Adored.

“I don’t know…” Rumi really didn’t. All she knew was her head felt light and her stomach wouldn’t stop doing flips. She had to squint a bit through the light blaring off her own face to see her girls eyes twinkling in the opulence. “I don’t know how to describe it…”

“Try. Even if it doesn’t make sense,” Mira urged, soft hand finding her cheek to stroke a warm, grounding thumb across burning skin.

“Like… tense?” Her brown furrowed. “But not a bad tense. It’s like when I’m about to sneeze… my body feels wound up like it’s waiting for something,” she spoke slowly, like she didn’t quite understand what she was saying herself. “And there’s this pressure in my stomach…” she squirmed, thighs restless beneath her. It felt like whenever she was nervous and her body begged her legs to run. To do something with all her anxious energy. But she had nowhere to go. She knew in her instincts this is where she needed to be…but she needed something more.

Mira and Zoey beamed at each other in silent, elated conversation. Rumi failed to realize what it meant: that this was a moment waited on anxiously finally being given its due time.

“Well then…?” Mira let her question linger, as if passing it off the maknae to finish.

And Zoey did just that. “Let’s give you some release~” she purred.

Rumi blinked, slow to digest. “What do you mea— oh!” she blushed. And blushed hard. It was the thing they were kind of working towards wasn’t it? So then why did she still hide behind her hands in embarrassment? It was like being surprised to receive food at a restaurant, she thought to herself lamely.

Fond laughter filled her ears before dual lips peppered over her knuckles as if to coax her hands into submission and grant them the view of their bashful leader. It worked. Rumi laughed herself, softly, at the sensation, peaking out shyly to look at them with one eye.

“Are you ready, baby?”

Rumi swallowed. Steeling herself, putting on her steadiest smile. “Yeah. Yeah let’s do it!” she nodded, trying to ignore how hard her heart was pounding. She was prepared to move out of the penthouse tomorrow if she threw up right now. She couldn’t live with that kind of embarrassment.

“It’s ok to be nervous. But don’t be afraid. It’s just us here,” Mira promised, an assuring palm resting on her shoulder. A gesture that always soothed the half-demon.

“Yeah, we got you,” Zoey seconded, as she crawled to rest behind Rumi, “we’ll go as slow as you need us to. And if it gets to much we’ll just stop and talk about. It’s as simple as that!” She beamed. The singer couldn’t not be affected by her eager assurances, smiling warmly.

The maknae crawled to sit behind her, before cradling Rumi’s back to slowly lie her down until her head rested against the Zoey’s knees. The rapper bent down to steal a kiss from above, hands steady on her reddened cheeks… which she absolutely took the time to squish. Rumi chuffed, swatting at the girl’s elbow in playful exasperation. Zoey only stuck her tongue out.

Before Rumi could find a quip on her tongue, a startled gasp found it instead. Mira was touching her suddenly, fingertips rolling down her chest with no hints of innocence. Her nail dragged debilitatingly slow over the lines of her patterns, igniting their heat like cinders. Rumi’s entire body shivered with an unseen electric current. Her patterns thrummed in reaction.

“Sensitive aren’t you?” Mira’s droll was drenched with smugness, she crawled up until their faces were level. “This’ll be fun,” she promised insidiously, latching her lips onto the half-demons to swallow her strangled whine before it had a chance to be audible. She swallowed those delicious whimpers like nectar as she scratched along the underside of her breasts with polished black nails, Zoey’s breath hitched watching how the singer squirmed under Mira’s expert touch. She knew from experience just how excruciatingly thorough the visual’s touch could be. Mira left no room hesitation or levity. And since Rumi had no frame reference given this was her first time—well, literally doing any of this— she was probably experiencing some sort of spiritual enlightenment right now.

Sharp lips soon trailed downwards ,kissing roughly as if to implore Rumi’s skin to remember where she’d been as she left. She kissed down the column of the singer’s lovely throat, humming at each little sting her patterns left on her lips as she peppered down the dip in her collarbone, and right between the valley of her breasts. Her mouth lingered there like she was waiting for the whimper which bubbled up from underneath her lips within Rumi’s chest and out of her mouth. Mira chuckled, shooting darkened eyes up at the poor girl before latching her warm mouth around an unprepared nipple.

Rumi cried out, she very well might have flung Mira off of her as she arched her back sharply at the sensation, but Zoey’s strong hands on her shoulders kept her relatively still. Mira smirked against her, shooting up another wicked gaze before her teeth gently tugged around that hardened bud, opposite hand dragging freely down Rumi’s outer thigh.

“Oh…oh shi-crap!” Rumi sputtered.

Her companions both laughed endearingly.

“You’re so pure~” Mira fawned, like one might praise a kitten for doing something cute, blowing her warm breath over the cool slick of her salvia latched onto Rumi’s breast like a promise. The half-demon quivered.

“I don’t think that’ll last much longer with us around,” Zoey grinned, a suggestive roughness to the timbre of her voice that made Rumi’s stomach do flips. Mira chuckled, a deep velvety sound, to the maknae’s words as she leaned back lightly, watching the patterns beneath her palm light up as she swiped over them, across Rumi’s stomach and down the top of her thighs where she parted her knees gently.

“Not a fucking chance…” Mira growled, eyes sparkling at the lovely sight that met her. Rumi’s pussy shining, the slick illuminated by her patterns which combed down the inside of her legs and brushed just shy of her folds. The dancer wondered if the pulse of those lights were in sync with the beat of Rumi’s heart…or the beat between her legs. There was only one way to find out wasn’t there?

She brought her palm closer towards the woman, eyes glancing between the singer’s pussy and her face, watching how Rumi’s gaze never left her hand as the half-demon watched it slowly, slowly drift closer towards the most sensitive part of her body. She looked to be holding her breath. Mira smirked. Rumi really made it too easy sometimes.

She let her hand hover over her glistening folds, just barely touching her, watching with hungry glee as the girl fought to not squirm with anticipation. Wanting to be touched but hesitant to instigate it herself. Rumi’s chestnut eyes finally tore away to look at her torturer, staring right down at her with a knowing, and downright sinister smirk.

Rumi whimpered, a needy sound in the back her throat.

“Need something?” Mira cocked her head wickedly.

“Obviously,” Rumi all but spat, eyes widening in sorrow as she watched that teasing hand slip away to rest over her leg. Mira’s touch was like fire, the heat trembled all the way up her patterns and to her stomach. She swore she could feel the warmth from them seep beneath her skin and into her blood. She groaned.

“Well then ask for it, aegiya,” Mira said as if she were stating the obvious.

“Miraaa,” Zoey whined with a playful pout of her lips. “You’re gonna break her before we even get to play with her!” She cooed, fingers combing through the top of Rumi’s lavender locks.

“But she’s just so adorable when she’s flustered,” the visual’s hand reached up to rest in the middle of the half-demon’s hips before dragging down, maddeningly neglecting to touch Rumi’s heat as her fingers parted expertly to avoid even the outermost folds.

Then it was Mira’s turn to blush as a soft growl, guttural and inhuman rumbled out of Rumi’s chest in frustration, lips peeling back just enough for her dull fangs to flash against the pulsing light of her opal stripes.

“Heh, so are you!” Zoey happily teased the dancer.

Mira got herself under control fast enough to shoot a haughty scowl towards the maknae, as if promising she would be in for it later, not that Zoey cared in the moment, sticking out an impetuous tongue at the eldest.

Mira got in close to Rumi again, lips at her ear as she whispered with a dark sweetness, “use that pure tongue of yours to tell me what filthy things I should do to you, sweet girl”

Rumi’s throat only managed to release air in response, like she was choking on her own breath. “A-are you serious?” she shivered, her voice a whine as her eyes boggled incredulously at the very serious woman.

“When am I not?” Mira challenged right back, the look in her eyes leaving no room for argument. “Go right ahead, aein. I’ll wait as long as I need~” she cooed, eating up the pitiful little whimper that escaped from behind Rumi’s closed lips as her hand stroked almost condescendingly over the burning patterns of her thigh.

“I want…I want you to…” she could swear her patterns were making her warmer, as if she really needed help with that, Rumi thought bitterly. “To put your hands on me,” she said innocuously, with averted eyes.

“I already am,” Mira was happy to inform her, nails dragging dully over her skin.

Zoey laughed above her, “details Ru-Ru, we love them,” her voice was a growl as it dripped with wanton eagerness.

“Um…your fingers, touch…t-touch me, um…” god it was so embarrassing to say this all out-loud, “between my legs?” She whimpered as though the words were regretful in her throat. "Where I need it?” Despite Zoey’s encouragement she still very much did not want to go into detail.

If it hadn’t been her first time Mira would have pushed her farther, really made her squirm, but tonight she decided to throw her a bone before she died on the bed between them.

“You want me to touch you…?” her sentence hung in the air cheekily, Rumi glanced down at her for a fraction of a second just in time to see that ravenous smirk tug the corner of the visual’s lips. Like she was hiding a secret she was mere moments away from revealing in glorious detail. Mira ate up the way Rumi hung on her words, teetering on that delicious edge.

Just the pad of her finger stroked down her slit. Rumi’s reaction was immediate. Pure fire. Her entire body convulsed as her patterns flared a hot white, the gasp in her throat was a strangled sound. Mira and Zoey both shivered, but Mira recovered quicker.

“…There?” she finished her question with a faux innocence on her tongue, like she didn’t know exactly what kind of power she was holding over the poor girl’s head. And like she didn’t know just much Rumi adored it. Adored someone taking care of her after a life spent only taking care of herself.

Rumi nodded furiously. “Yes! Please yes!” she sputtered like the words couldn’t leave her mouth fast enough.

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” Mira hummed, before properly touching her this time, pressing against Rumi’s warmth with a light firmness. She bit her lip watching the singer leak around her fingers and onto the bedsheets from that alone. She was so sensitive it was almost unfair.

“So wet already,” the visual purred, her eyes feasting at the sight of the meal before her and Zoey as she put the heel if her palm against Rumi’s opening, leaving it there, just to feel how she throbbed against her. Like a little heartbeat. Pounding with sinful desire for her touch.

“Awww, just for us?” Zoey cooed adorably, hands stroking lovingly over Rumi’s cheeks in affectionate little circles.

Mira teased her folds; gentle, deliberate and calculated like she’d thought long and hard of how to do this, what the girl would like. The idea of Mira’s preparation produced a shy whine from the half-demon lips. Did the dancer really sit around daydreaming how to fingerfuck her just right?

Rumi glanced down to see the awe on Mira’s face, the reverence in her eyes, how her lips parted in a delighted smile, like she was seeing a work of art unveiled for the first time. They sharpened into a smirk when she caught Rumi staring. Mira made eye contact with her as she plunged her lightly slicked fingers into her mouth, dabbing the singer’s salty sweetness onto the back of her tongue.

A strangled breath fought its way out of Rumi’s mouth at the sight. She trembled, hands clasping at the comforter so tightly her knuckles turned white. She wondered if her hammering heartbeat was shaking the bed before a warmth disappeared from behind her head and appeared at her side.

“Hi baby~” Zoey hummed sweetly, plopping down on her side next to the quivering girl, cheek propped up merrily on her fist as she rested on her elbow, watching Rumi with an adoring warmth, the way she always watched her in the sound booth when she recorded a solo for a new song…expression drowning in adulation and just a soft hint of something more tender. Something like pride mixed with overwhelming joy and honor that she got to call this incredible woman her best friend. She reached up to kiss the space between her eyes. Some part of Rumi lamented that it wasn’t on her mouth.

“H-hi Zoey,” Rumi managed to stammer out.

Her smile was so kind it hurt the half-demon’s chest as the maknae took hold of her wrist, releasing it of it death grip on the sheets to place a kiss onto its palm. “Remember to breathe, unnie,” she reminded her softly. Rumi hadn’t realized how much her lungs were burning until then, taking in a shaky breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Zoey placed her trembling hands over her chest, breathing exaggeratively as Rumi followed along.

“Good girl,” Mira said softly kissing over her hips, “we’ve got you, gongjunim. Now let us hear that pretty voice”

That was the only warning she got before a slender finger plunged into her, gently but with determination, not stopping once until Mira was at the knuckle. A groan and a cry fought for dominance in Rumi’s throat at she shuddered, thighs already shaking around the dancer’s wrist. She clung to Zoey like a lifeline, who was more than happy—and prepared—to cup a hand to her gasping cheek, rubbing little circles with her thumb to keep her calm; keep her grounded.“We’re right here,” she uttered, kissing a quivering lip, “I’m right here. You’re ok, sweetie.”

Warm heat sloshed through her lower abdomen like plunging into a hot bath. Lapping over her diligently and debilitatingly. “Ah!” Rumi whined, her eyes wrenched shut as the sensation consumed her.

“Fuck…” Mira breathed, her voice ragged, like lust was crawling over her vocal chords, scratching at her timbre until it ripped to lustful shreds. “She’s so tight,” it was her turn to shiver as she slowly but steadily pumped her fingers inside their girl. She groaned feeling the Rumi’s walls grip around her desperately, as though reluctant to let her hand leave. But years of dance had every muscle in Mira’s body locked into a tight precision, her strokes maintained rhythm perfectly, letting Rumi get accustomed to the sensation of being stretched. Zoey pulled a lip between her teeth at the sight, a throb of want panging between her own legs.

Rumi’s throat gurgled with strangled moans, the simple thrusts of Mira’s lone finger nearly proved her undoing right then and there. She bit back a sob of desire that bubbled behind her mouth— The sound of her own desperate, purely instinctual voice sounded foreign to her ears in a way she didn’t know how to comprehend. She just knew it made her self-conscious, like audible proof that Mira was indeed knuckle deep inside of her right now. There was no denying that level of intimate vulnerability. Fanged teeth latching onto her lip almost hard enough to draw blood as echoes of purple trickled down her body.

“Hey, you’re ok pretty girl,” Zoey cooed quickly, petting the sparkling opal patterns over her shuddering ribs, “you’re doing so so good!” The rapper praised, kissing firmly against her forehead. “It’s ok to let Mira know she’s doing a good job too, yeah? We like hearing all those little noises,” she grinned, “means we’re doing something right, doesn’t it?”

“I’m fueled by compliments I already now,” Mira hummed smugly, before her lips drifted down to over the singer’s chest, right over her heart. “And you are, by the way… very pretty like this, Rumi,” she cooed sincerely, lips drifting lazily over the skin of her chest, like she wanted to feel the half-demon’s heart flutter at her words. Which they absolutely were.

“Our pretty tiger~” Zoey sang happily, littering said tiger’s face with little kisses. The half-demon couldn’t stop the soft giggles which escaped her at the maknae’s unbridled sweetness.

The sound quickly choked however when Mira’s finger curled inside of her. It forced a cry from her throat before she could help it. Jumping at the opportunity Zoey placed a thumb on her tongue, keeping her mouth open so not a single squeak or sigh was lost on their ears. Rumi moaned around the maknae’s fingers, the sound rumbling all the way up from her core.

Mira snickered, “you’re welcome,” she purred.

Rumi was a feast for the eyes and ears to her companions. It was like watching a dream, fantasized over for ages play out before one’s eyes, better than one could have ever imagined. Rumi was glowing, both in the literal and figurative sense. Eyes soft and lidded, struggling to stay open as little whines caught in the back of her throat pitifully. Still too shy to voice them with abandon, but something about the girl’s restraint while the evidence of pleasure was plain on her face was a delicious sight to see. She whimpered as she hid her hot face in Zoey’s shoulder, gold shuddering over her patterns like the speckles of rain trickling onto glass. The youngest only hummed, running a hand down a long braid that seemed to barely be hanging on to its form.

“She’s so cute when she squirms” Mira fawned, reverently, her free hand combing down the side of Rumi’s stomach, watching her shiver under her touch, bright patterns burning hotter beneath the trail of her fingertips. She ate up the singer’s twitches as she put a light pressure over her belly; Rumi sighed as it added to the pressure Mira was stroking with her finger inside of her. Their girl looked so lovely splayed out and needy for them.

“And when she whimpers,” Zoey added happily. They both looked at her as though they’d been starving all their lives and were finally granted a banquet to feast upon. It was mouth watering.

Rumi meanwhile couldn’t tell if she was dying, getting reborn, or both. A throbbing want panged within her like she’d never known, both tamed and stoked by the skilled hand inside of her. She tingled inside and out, the rapper at her side palmed the back of her neck where her face was tucked away into Zoey’s shoulder; the girl used her freehand to pet lazy caresses over her sides. It tickled slightly, in a way that prickled her skin so nicely.

The half-demon whined beneath her lovers as Mira began to switch strategies, feeling the girl around her become a bit too accustomed to her movements for her liking. Her rhythm became, choppy and unpredictable. She’d curl a finger in one thrust but twist it in the next. It kept Rumi on edge…well, more than she already was.

“M-Mira…Mira,” she whimpered.

Mira only chuckled, “you’re ok baby,” her lips curled with faux sweetness, “I know you can take much more than this. I’m only just getting started.”

“Mira please,” she whined, lip trembling softly. Tears of frustration pricked at the half-demon’s vision.

“Aww poor Rumi,” Zoey, crooned, kissing the wetness in the corner of her eyes. “Mira can be so mean can’t she?” She pouted at the dancer, who only rolled her eyes fondly.

“It’s called a patience Zoey…something either of you aren’t very good with. But luckily I have enough for the both of you,” she all but chewed on her words as if to savor their taste. “And it’s Ru’s first time…you know I don’t half ass first impressions.”

As if to drill her point home she added in a second finger without warning, sucking in a breath at the added bit of effort needed to slip inside of her tightness. Rumi really hadn’t done this before, had she?

“OH…god—” Rumi groaned, hips bucking against that growing pressure within her, at the dizzying fullness. “SH-SHIT!” she cursed.

Mira and Zoey reacted immediately, cheering boisterously as if the singer had just landed the high score on one of the arcade games the trio frequented downtown on their freetime. They even threw each other a high five with their free hands.

“Shut u-up!” Rumi whined beneath them, cheeks flushed. They only giggled more, kissing over her chest sweetly; she could feel the vibration of their laughter against her skin. She was about to complain at them for being nerds again before a squeak was ripped from her throat as Mira, who’d shifted to lie on her other side, hoisted Rumi’s leg to rest on her slender hip, coating her patterns in a swirl of gold and amber.

“I was too far from your pretty face down there,” she explained stealing a kiss to the side of Rumi’s brow. The singer shivered, affectively caged by her companions at either side. Mira kissed her mouth suddenly just before her fingers scissored inside of her and Rumi saw stars, screaming into the dancer’s lips to be swallowed down by a starving tongue. Her body was wracked with shudders, Zoey watched how her hand vibrated against the half-demon’s side with interest.

“Look at you~” Mira cooed, her words patient and heavy. “Taking me so well, you like having me inside of you Rumi? Does it feel nice?” She goaded. The girl only groaned again, throwing her head back as Mira scissored her tenderly. Zoey took the opportunity to latch onto Rumi’s throat, teeth nipping at her veins.

The dancer chuckled. “I think that’s a yes, what do you think Zoey?” She hummed before sinking her teeth into Rumi’s shoulder, hard enough to leave an impression. The half-demon cried out, head swimming with pleasure.

“I think she wants more~” Zoey purred devilishly.

“But she’s already gripping around my fingers so greedily, aren’t you greedy girl?” Mira practically growled into her ear, tugging the lobe between her teeth. Her hand picked up pace, not enough to cause any pain to the sensitive woman, but to drive her absolutely insane with want.

“Greedy Rumi~” Zoey sang sinking down, leaving a trail of kisses down the singer’s shuddering throat, to her heaving chest where she latched onto a nipple. She smiled as that breast rose to meet her as Rumi all arched off the bed.

“Fuck—oh…god FUCK!” Rumi couldn’t stop trembling if she tried. Her body was at its wits end. She felt like she could very well collapse at any moment, vision going blurry, the wet sound of her own slick squelching with each skillful thrust of a perfect hand drifting up to her ears and making her core throb all the more. It was debauched, and fucking succulent. She knew she was coating the dancer’s hand in her need and some primal part of her brain absolutely salivated at that reality.

“Mira! Zoey! Christ! PL-EASE!” her voice shuddered through the Honmoon, dark and inhuman. It sent—admittedly a primal twinge of fear into her companions—but more than that…white hot lust into their cores.

Rumi moaned as the two women fought for a turn on her mouth, impatient to wait for the other resulting in their lips sloppily claiming the gasping girl’s face. The singer could only whine needily, doing her best to return their affections but finding it hard to even think coherently. She didn’t know what she was begging for, she just needed something, anything, it was too much. She was going to fucking explode. Or pass out. Or just die. Here on her own bed sandwiched by her two lovers, fucking her into oblivion. Making her feel so damn good. Honestly, that wouldn’t be such a bad death she thought vaguely.

“Should we give it to her Mira?” Zoey caterwauled, between feirce kisses, like she was afraid to miss even a single taste of any of Rumi’s sighs and whimpers.

“She did say please,” Mira uttered, shooting a knowing glance to her lover.

Rumi practically sobbed as the maknae’s hands returned to tease over her tits, dredged with warm saliva and ridiculously slick.

“Come for us little tigress~” the maknae hummed against her skin.

“I…” Rumi blanched, somehow stilling a bit despite the shudders wracking her body. “I don’t know how—” she whimpered.

“Just let go”

What if she couldn’t?

“Relax into us”

It was hard to even think

“We’ve got you”

To breathe…

“We’re here”

She couldn’t feel her own heartbeat

“Go ahead, love”

But she could feel them…

“Come Rumi”

Her body froze completely. A fragile sound, like chipping glass or a birdsong at the sunrise left her lips in the most delicate of whimpers. Like a tiny splinter on the bark of a tree under weight of its branches. A moment passed…then Rumi’s entire body shook.

A rumbling shout ripped loose of her throat like trapped air in a pocket breaking free. Her patterns burned hot. Her companions had to squint under its intensity as the room was drenched in burning white light.

Rumi shuddered hard. For a while. Mira and Zoey held her tight through it all, revering the sight. Bathing in it. Curiosity sated after nights upon nights speculating how she would come on their hands. They committed it to memory. Zoey stroked over her side, whispering praises and sweet nothings into the crook of her neck as she stilled, slowly but surely, greedy gasps on her lips hungry for air. Mira rode her gently throughout, milking out every little whine and whimper Rumi had left in her poor throat until tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. When she was finally satisfied, the visual pulled out as gently as she could. She suckled a reddening earlobe in apology at every uncomfortable twitch and sore whimper that shook from the singer until she finally pulled free.

“Such a good little girl~” Mira uttered quietly.

Exhausted eyes fell shut as she did so; the half-demon’s muscles took that as their cue to give up as Rumi all but melted into the bed, utterly spent in every sense of the word. Zoey wasted no time taking Mira’s wrist into her grip, bringing it to her lips to give their good girl a taste with a satisfied hum. The fluttering eyelids of the maknae and the smoldering gaze of the visual watching her with hungry interest was lost on the panting girl below them fighting to catch her breath. She missed the pleased little whine and downright sinful moan from the youngest and eldest respectively as her own labored breath rattles in her ears.

When she was satisfied with the lyricist’s job, Mira removed her cleaned hand to rest on Zoey’s lower back, pulling her in that much closer, effectively sandwiching their dizzy leader between them as she finally came to with groggy eyes blinking open.

“God…” Rumi uttered, each breath was an effort and a half. “Oh my god…”

“Like I said—” Mira purred contentedly, taking a noodly hand in her grasp to plant a kiss over the patterned palm, its light flickering out of rhythm as if her stripes themselves were exhausted. “First impressions~”

“I…I think I died,” the singer breathed.

“Thanks~” the dancer hummed, like she’d received a compliment on her hair.

Zoey giggled, “You’re so cute, unnie,” she purred, her nose tucked against the top of her hair, breathing in the scent of the rose water shampoo still lingering in those lavender locks, it mixed with the sweet smell of her sex well, oddly enough. Her lips strayed a kiss to the top of her forehead where they rested against her hairline.

“Beautiful~” Mira cooed, kissing over her cheekbone, admiring those tired patterns over her face prickle at her praise.

“Ours~”

The two of them kissed one another, lazily and happily. Rumi watched them from below through half lidded, sated eyes. An overwhelming feeling of safety flooded through her as the bodies of the other women pressed against her to reach closer to one another from above.

Her patterns were a kaleidoscope over her skin. Iridescent swimming with a gentle lavender, quaking with gold, and flickering with pink. It’s was all so much at once, Rumi couldn’t help but begin to cry softly.

Zoey stiffened with panic immediately, just as quickly Mira shushed her with a an assuring gentleness, before the maknae’s anxieties could tumble out of her mouth.“It happens sometimes for people afterwards,” Mira’s whisper was spoken like a caress seeking to soothe the wrinkle forming over Zoey’s brow. “It’s a lot of emotions hitting you at once,” the visual made a delicate humming sound in her throat, something pleased twinkling in her eye, “especially after the trip we just took her on,” she drawled lightly, not a hint of taunting in her tone, but rather pride. Pride at both the two of them, but most for their Rumi, their best girl who’d done the best job for them. Mira was more than happy tell her that without words.

She pulled Rumi softly into her chest, tucking her head beneath her sharp chin, a protective palm resting flat over her blushing cheek as she held her against her own steady heartbeat. Zoey followed suit, curling up against the half-demon’s back, ear pressed beneath her shoulder blades to listen to her lungs as they worked.

The singer stilled after a while of laying together with her girls’ in silence, thoughts left unspoken rattling through her head and making her chest quake uncomfortably like she had indigestion. The dissonance must have evident in her face as Mira was quick to speak up.

“Talk to us, babe,” the dancer’s words deliberately weren’t a question. ‘How are you feeling?’ was too sterile, too segregating, as if to set the expectation that everything going through Rumi’s mind in that moment could be narrowed down into a single binary emotion. A positive or negative. So she cut the bullshit as she always did.

Rumi sniffed. She felt raw, not just physically but emotionally, like her heart was bleeding. “It’s stupid,” she mumbled against the visual’s chest.

“Like we care?” Mira challenged, her tone coarse but the women beside her only recognized it for what it truly was: affection. Just Mira’s own brand of jagged, razor sharp affection.

Rumi chewed her lip, curling a bit into herself between them like she could just hide from their expectation. Their concern for her. Hiding came so naturally to her she didn’t even have to think about it; she’d told herself for years that, if she kept herself away it meant that she didn’t have look at the worry in her friends’ eyes each time she brushed off a late night cuddle-session in the couch—terrified at the thought of a sleepy hand accidentally finding its way up her shirt to expose her patterns—or when she retreated into the privacy of her cage to patch herself up after a fight, alone, clenching her jaw as she tied her own stitches with one hand. She could pretend their worries didn’t exist when she hid. Pretend that she didn’t exist.

Soft lips brushed over the side of her jaw, ripping her from her spiral as her patterns fluttering a soft blue between the cyclone of colors.

“You know we won’t judge,” Rumi felt Zoey’s murmur against her skin as much as she heard it, her breath snaking up the stripes of her body and coiling up to her ears.

Rumi sighed, voice unsteady as she began. “I didn’t…I didn’t think I was allowed to have this,” she started quietly, her voice felt so loud in her own ears, but maybe that was just the sound of something so repressed finally bubbling up to the surface like water slipping over the sides of a kettle after it had been left to boil. “At least not while I was like…this,” she winced out the words like they physically stung her. Mira wasn’t missed on the way Rumi’s eyes were glued to Mira’s skin to purposefully avoid looking at her patterns.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Mira responded dryly, inquisitive but firm, as if she had a grip on the singer’s arm and refused to let her shrink into her own head again.

“I told myself I couldn’t—I didn’t—deserve to have anything like this. This intimacy, this tenderness,” Rumi mumbled, sharp teeth chewing her lip uncomfortably. “Not until I was…f-fixed,” she failed to swallow a sob, the sound cutting at her words like a knife. Her voice may have very well stopped working then if not for Mira’s thumb stroking patiently over her cheek, bleeding warmth into her, reminding her she was safe. Or Zoey’s fingertips tracing up her buzzing patters giving her the courage to continue, to go as slow as she needed. The singer took a few shaky breaths to get her voice to cooperate. And bless her girls’ hearts that breathed right with her. Their breath was hers.

“But I haven’t been, and yet here you two still are,” she spoke the words delicately as if she could shatter this moment in half like the illusion she feared it was. This was all so new that it oftentimes still didn’t feel real— like she was going to wake up at any moment to find herself alone, still needing to hide, needing to keep the darkest parts of herself locked away from the two people she loved the most, to keep them safe from the monster that scratched just beneath her skin begging to be released. A beast too feral to ever be trusted. Too ugly to be cared for. A rot that needed to be purged before Rumi could ever expect to receive any kind of acceptance, any affection.

She spent her entire life waiting to earn it, to be good enough. Her eyes always avoided herself in the mirror because, no, she wasn’t worthy of love yet. She deserved nothing more than to hide until she was. A way of life so familiar yet so suffocating that she wanted to rip her hair out and scream, but at the same time it was all she had ever known. Never feeling deserving of more than a quick glance of acknowledgment that she existed, but who she was, who she was allowed to be had to always remain on hold. Masquerading around as the girl everyone thought they saw her as, holding out hope for the day she finally could be, the day her skin could finally be clean.

But that day hadn’t come, and yet here she was being cradled in the afterglow of intimacy, the mantra she had grown up telling herself left null and void, crumpled like a sad piece of paper to be thrown in the trash as her patterns hummed hard and bright for the world to see.

“It’s just…a lot,” Rumi’s head swam with the exhaustive confusion of her heart. She closed her eyes to keep from getting dizzy.

Her companions only remained silent. So silent it churned the edges of her patterns pink with fear. She’d overshared too much… she was making things awkward…they didn’t want to hear her cry about her grief—

“That’s not true,” Mira uttered, the softness of her tone broke the half-demon from her would-be spiral. “Rumi,” she whispered, palming the girl’s chin to shift her reluctant gaze upwards. “You’ve always deserved it. Half-demon or not, nothing about who you are affects your right to be happy,”she urged the words she’d taken years to learn herself with a righteous indignation Rumi could swore she felt simmering in the visual’s ribs below her cheek like a fire. She blinked at the intensity.

“There’s nothing to fix about you Rumi,” Zoey shifted up until all three of them were level with one another. “You aren’t broken,” she snaked her arms around the half-demon’s waist to give her a squeeze from behind, planting a kiss on her shoulder, purposefully over those pulsing patterns the singer had spent years despising like a disease, a shadow haunting every image of her own self-worth like a cancer she’d agonized her entire life over removing. “You never were.”

A sob choked out of her throat, soft but sharp. Rumi didn’t fight the tears as she let herself be cradled in her girlfriends’ love.
Let herself feel. Let herself be seen and acknowledged for who she was, what she was, without judgment or disdain. Without being grimaced at like she was a mistake that managed to somehow live this long.

They held her tight, held her close; silent as they let her vent everything from her system, over two decades of pain and loneliness leaking for her heart. Mira and Zoey kissed her tears away dutifully, like it was their lives’ purpose to not let them fall. Perhaps in a way that wasn’t far from the truth.

“You guys are incredible. Like actually,” Rumi sniffed, voice wobbly but sincere as she sunk lower in their embrace to better look at the both of them. She had no idea what she’d done to deserve them. She felt like she didn’t, but Rumi knew voicing that worry would lead to at least an hour long intervention of just how wrong she was…so she settled on the just as true:

“I’m glad we found each other,” she murmured, heart too exhausted to speak above a whisper. Icy blue baked against her flesh, sparkling up at the devotive admiration dotting her bandmate’s faces; the light catching in the shine of their eyes like a part of Rumi was being held close in their souls.

Their response was a kiss to either of their leader’s cheeks, squishing her face until she laughed. Rumi turned her chin to give each of them a proper kiss.

“We love you, Ru-Ru,” Zoey purred, nuzzling against her temple warmly.

“Always have, always will,” Mira hummed, a leg coming up to rest over both her girls protectively. “Horns or no horns. Stealing my last bag of ice cream from the freezer in cold blood or not.”

“Hey that was Zoey not me!”

Zoey gasped like she was heartbroken, throwing a hand to her face. “Snitch!” she accused.

“You’re cute so you get away with it,” Rumi responded.

“This is true,” Mira concurred, calling to mind every time the rage in her chest at loosing a hat or a hairbrush in their dressing room was immediately cooled at the realization that it was simply in the possession of their maknae. Rumi could vouch for how easy it was to spoil her as well. And the little giggle that left Zoey’s lips was all the defense they needed.

“Love you unnies~” she sang coyly sitting up to flop over the both of them.

“Love you Zo,” “Love you too, babo”

They pulled her in between them to be the new center of the cuddle sandwich. She loved every second of it.

“Beyond all the mushy stuff,” Mira began again, after thoroughly peppering the maknae with their lips until she was wheezing to breath between giggles, “how are you doing with the obvious?” The dancer asked turning the topic back over the singer. Obviously, the obvious wasn’t so obvious as Rumi only stared up at her, confused. Mira had to suppress rolling her eyes at just how lost Rumi could be sometimes. “How does your body feel?” she articulated slowly. Rumi was almost embarrassed at how much she’d blatantly forgot about having the most sex she’d ever experienced just moments ago.

“Oh yeah, I’m um… I’m ok,” Rumi’s voice seemed to wander, awkwardness beginning to crawl up her spine again, or maybe that was just Zoey tickling over her patterns with absentminded fingers. Admittedly they felt a bit similar. “It’s just…a little uncomfortable down there,” she admitted with pinched brows, squirming lightly at the edge of the trio as she was finally granted the emotional downtime to focus on how sore she actually felt, endorphins beginning to wane.

“Does it hurt?” Mira sat up immediately to study her, a hand finding her shoulder as she scanned her face the way she does the horizon when the trio do their evening hunts together—attention fully locked in as her eyes drank in every detail in their periphery. Absorbing all the information in front of her with unforgiving diligence. Like a predator…or perhaps a protector in this instance. It was a comforting kind of scrutiny, Rumi found.

“A little bit, but I meant it just feels like…empty,” she stretched the last word like a question, unsure of how to describe the hollowness she felt in her core at the lack of sensation after all that toe curling buildup under the dancer’s ministrations for almost the past half-hour.

Zoey giggled, body suddenly tight and buzzing with hardly contained energy. She was already pushing herself into a sitting position herself on the bed.

“That means it’s my turn!”

Chapter Text

“That means it’s my turn!” Zoey sang merrily, clapping her hands in front of her with a giddy excitement. She beamed like a kid on Christmas who just got a new toy.

“Oh this should be good,” Mira drawled, helping Rumi’s boneless body into a sit before leaning back, though not without a goodbye kiss to the temple. The vagueness of her voice spurred a jolt in Rumi’s chest. She couldn’t tell if the feeling was curiosity or apprehension. Maybe both? As with everything their maknae had to offer.

Rumi felt hands grabbing her own and when she turned around Zoey’s eyes were so close to her face she nearly head-butted with the rapper before she managed to flinch backwards. The singer could swear she saw the girl’s pupils dilate like a cat receiving catnip as she bit her soft bottom lip eagerly before blurting—

“Can I eat you out?” she asked brazenly. No subtly, no nuance. Straight to the point. Rumi could only boggle, taken aback by not only her forwardness, but by the signature brand of sweetness Zoey exercised with absolutely everything she said, even when asking her of something so salacious. Rumi felt her face flush, watching golden light slowly kiss up Zoey’s skin to reflect back at her in her brown eyes. They twinkled like little suns.

Rumi’s own eyes couldn’t help but linger where that light accentuated the edges of the rapper’s cheeks like a halo, catching in the shine of her wet lips. Zoey’s lips. Soft and inviting and a bit swollen from all the kissing the trio had been getting up to. Something heavy and eager held in the half-demon’s throat at the thought that those wonderful lips would only become more ravaged as the night went on; and she’d be partially responsible for it.

Rumi’s mind ran off on its own for a moment or two to wonder if her Zoey’s kiss would feel as sweet down there as it was on her face before she could hope stop it. She swallowed a whimper. She felt dizzy even thinking about that, and gently nodding her permission proved to be a harder feat than she cared to admit.

Zoey waited patiently, lost on Rumi’s mental buffering and internal squirming…though Mira very much wasn’t.

The dancer chuckled with something cunning in her throat behind them like a wolf having caught its diner. “We’ve gotta hear you,” she goaded the singer. Now that she wasn’t the one holding the reigns anymore, she was all too comfortable shedding her niceness in favor of something more affectionately condescending. She wasn’t prepared to let Rumi off easy; not in the slightest.

“Tell Zoey what she should do with that pretty little mouth of hers to leave you squirming~” lips touched the shell of the half-demon’s ear while the hand which had been on her shoulder snaked around to caress over Rumi’s belly, lighting up those golden stripes like neon. She smirked, feeling how the woman squirmed against her. Apparently the sizzle of her patterns also affected Rumi it seemed, as their heat tickled over her skin.

The maknae tsked playfully, scoffing with a fond roll of her eye. “Don’t tease her Mira, she’ll have a heart attack,” she chided their visual with an amused sort of smile, always coming to the half-demon’s rescue it seemed. Rumi was grateful, blushing a different kind of blush at the little kiss planted on her nose like a sweet promise of Zoey’s tenderness. “Just say yes or no, baby,” the rapper hummed kindly.

“Yes,” Rumi breathed, heart beating faster at what she was agreeing to. It was a nerve wracking yet giddy sort of excitement, like waiting in line for a roller coaster that hurt your neck trying to look up and see the peak of. Nerves trembled through your limbs leaving you unable to stand still while your stomach coiled was some bizarre sense of joy; flight or fight instincts engaged in a disarming environment all in the name of fun. It was exhilarating as it was debilitating. It stoked the heat in the singer’s core all the more. “Yes please,” she shivered lightly at the little heartbeat which pulsed between her thighs, as if her body already knew what was to come. She tried to ignore the nervousness rubbing against her temples.

Zoey made a little sound her companion’s could only best describe as one a squeaky toy might make when squeezed before the maknae wrapped her arms around their leader, giving her a chaste but deep kiss. It was just shy of a headbutt, but Rumi found her enthusiasm endearing, especially when she felt those lips smile against her own like Zoey’d just been gifted the best prize in the world.

“Thank you, thank you!” she buzzed, linking their fingers together to swing their arms around happily, before she shot a knowing glance over Rumi’s patterned shoulder. “Mira, you wanna be a seatbelt?”

“Seatbelt?” Rumi whipped around to see their visual already settling herself behind her comfortably, as if been given a cue, which—with what the two of them had alluded too earlier—probably wasn’t far from the truth. She slid the half-demon between her slender legs as she rested against the headboard, arms snaking around Rumi’s middle once more to pull her gently until her back was flush to the dancer’s chest, where there they remained even when Mira was satisfied with their closeness.

“Zoey can be a lot,” she explained cooly, long legs extending in front of her outside of Rumi’s own. The latter was painfully aware of just how much taller the dancer was in that moment. “And especially since this I your first time, we just want to make sure you feel secure,” she gave a gentle squeeze around the half-demon’s middle. To her credit, the action did seem to lessen Rumi’s nerves just a tad. “Also…” something coy quirked on the corner of Mira’s lips before she continued, “you can be a runner when you get overwhelmed.”

The singer gawked indignantly. “I’m not a runner!” she complained, eyes narrowing. Zoey and Mira exchanged a cocked brow with one another which said otherwise.

Rumi was about to protest further before Mira suddenly locked their ankles together. The singer swallowed, realizing the choice was now up to her for when and how far apart Rumi’s legs spread. The dancer was very aware of the little shiver which coursed through her girl—her gentle chuckle fluffed Rumi’s lavender hair as she slowly began to pull their legs apart with an agonizing patience—as if Mira intended to drink up every quiver and shy whine the shy half-demon had in her until she was opened wide for all to see and admire.

Sound choked in Rumi throat, as she glanced down at herself. Open. Vulnerable. Waiting. Prey ready for consumption if the way Zoey was crawling up to her between her thighs like a hungry panther was anything to go by. Cold air kissed at her damp heat, as if to highlight just how exposed she was. The briefest of urges to shrink into herself struck, and she just might’ve if not for the woman behind her holding her firm.

Damnit…maybe she was a bit of a runner…

Soft lips appeared at her temple almost immediately with a delicate kiss, as if to silence all the echoing anxieties pinging around in the half-demon’s head. Mira nuzzled gently against the side of her head before speaking. “Gwaen-cha-na?” she uttered tenderly, teasing devoid from her tone.

Rumi swallowed thickly as if to lubricate her throat enough to speak as she nodded her head once, perhaps a bit too mechanically. “Yeah…yeah I’m fine,” she answered quickly, speaking like she was short of breath. Her companions weren’t convinced, watching the tension in her muscles solidify with a scrutinizing gaze. The half-demon shivered, limbs growing taut as her breaths were steady but shallow, as if every suck of air taken in was a deliberate choice she actively had to make.

Zoey frowned, leaning up from between the singer’s legs to place a kiss on her sternum, right over her pounding heart before resting her cheek against it. The warmth of the maknae seemed to swaddle Rumi’s entire chest like a hug. She let out a shaky exhale, fighting the shivers begging to ripple through her.

“We can take a little breather…it’s ok,” Zoey smiled sweetly, chocolate eyes peeking up at her below her dark bangs. “There’s no rush,” she said, laying prone in front of Rumi, elbows resting over her patterned thighs to prop her chin up with her fists as her own legs kicked happily behind her—like she didn’t care how long it took Rumi to get to where they wanted her, they were just pleased to have her at all, and they were cherishing every moment of it. “Whenever you’re comfy to keep going~” she hummed dotingly.

“You’re gonna need all the air you can get once she gets started,” Mira alluded mischievously, a smirk obvious in her voice.

Rumi flushed again. “A-alright,” she twitched a bit uncomfortably. Despite their clear encouragement she couldn’t help but feel bad for making them grind things to a halt on her behalf—agreed upon beforehand or not, now in the moment of it all it felt awkward. She tried to get her breathing under control but the hyperawareness of just how much skin was touching her own was admittedly beginning to make her feel a bit crowded. She tried not to twitch, eyes darting anywhere but either woman swaddling her naked body but before true panic could overtake her a sudden vibration spurred against her chest.

She blinked down; Zoey was humming gently. A little tune of a few simple notes she seamed to weave spontaneously. The feeling it carried was settling; a little buzz against her skin, the light melody thrumming against her ears—it was a tangible sensation to focus on instead of the buzz of anxiety prodding Rumi’s temples. Mira joined the tune a moment later against the nape of her neck. The two of them harmonized openly together, like a question hanging in the air. Rumi gave her answer with a soft hum of her own, completing the chord.

Why that always worked she didn’t know. Maybe it had to do with the Honmoon hardening around them like a protective shield, its vibration quaking her bones and settling her nerves. Or maybe it just that the buzz of their voices against her body was soothing in and of itself. Either way she felt immensely calmer, that stabbing weight of trepidation dissipating from her chest as though it had never been there.

“Ok,” Rumi let out a breath. Zoey stirred lightly against her. The half-demon fought a smile, she could practically feel how wired the lyricist was, wound tightly like a race horse ready for the gates to swing open and take off at full speed. The older girl intentionally let the moment linger just a second more, just to enjoy her bandmate’s impatient patience—her haunches taut and ready to pounce at her word. It was adorable. Rumi felt Mira snigger against her neck, cognizant of what she was doing and enjoying every second of watching the maknae fight the urge to lunge into action just as much.

“I’m ready—” the sentence barely had a chance to leave her mouth before eager lips smashed against it so fast the dancer behind them feared for a moment someone might have broken their nose. Zoey was practically trying to devour her, lips pressed so tight as if to dare air to come between them as teeth and tongue alike claimed the prize of the singer’s taste. Rumi squeaked at the sudden aggression, but her surprise only lasted a moment before she melted into the touch, returning the enthusiasm—perhaps not as violently— but certainly just as eager. Kissing Zoey was always easy after all.

It took a few tugs of Rumi’s bottom lip to realize the lyricist was asking her to enter into her mouth. The half-demon fought back her self-consciousness to push her tongue between the maknae’s lips, earning a satisfied hum of approval. Soft hands found her cheeks, as if urging her to press her tongue deeper, which Rumi warily did, unsure of what she was really doing but Zoey seemed to be enjoying it regardless. She ran over the ridges of those little teeth, learning their curves and grooves like she was exploring an art piece. Learning the mouth which formed every sweet word released on the rapper’s breath.

Mira did her own part as well, kissing over the colorful stripes of Rumi’s shoulder, her lips tingling against their soft warmth, watching between lidded eyes as those lazy hues shifted from gold to a dizzying blend of blue and amber.

A soft breath puffed from Zoey’s nose against Rumi’s face as the singer felt a downright roguish grin splitting the girl’s face. That was the only warning she had before the maknae’s lips clamped down around her tongue to suck it off. The half-demon all but yelped as the blush on her face spread to her ears, shuddering hard in Mira’s firm grip.

“Z-Zoey what the hell!?” She sputtered.

Her bandmates only laughed mirthfully as the youngest let her go mercifully to collect herself.

“Sorry, sorry! I couldn’t help myself~” Zoey giggled not so innocently, kissing Rumi’s cheek as if to taste the embarrassment off her face.

“J-just warn me next time…” Rumi huffed, trying not to sound as flustered as she very much felt. Mira snickered against her.

“But aegiya, it’s so much more fun catching you by surprise~” she cooed deliciously, eating up the indignant little grumble from their leader’s throat. Zoey was eager to kiss the sound, lips trailing down her neck with open, sloppy kisses as she dragged her mouth down lazily between the valley of her breasts, and over her belly, not neglecting to give Mira’s knuckles a cheeky peck or two of course as she passed them before—

Rumi twitched in Mira’s grasp as soft, warm hands found her thighs, smoothing them over how one might a table cloth before laying out a meal. Of course in this situation, Rumi was already set perfectly for devouring. Zoey stole a glance up to flash her a toothy grin before kissing over the top of her thighs, taking her time to drift to their inner sides. Mira held her steady; arms around the singer’s middle caressed her gently as if to quell any would-be instincts to run as she quivered.

“We’ve got you,” Mira whispered between the soft kisses she peppered across her shoulders. “You’re ok, tigress.” Her voice was unbothered, tone so assured it left little room for argument. Honestly well enough that the half-demon believed her, grabbing onto her words like a lifebuoy thrown to her at sea.

Rumi made a soft sound, a small, shaky smile on her lips at her companion’s words. A blush of a different kind of heat licked her cheeks and she squeezed back at the arms around her—turning her chin to kiss the visual who happily met her half way, suckling on the half-demons lips until they were swollen with the memory of her.

“That’s our brave girl~” Zoey praised against the sensitive skin of her thigh which squirmed lightly at her sweet, possessive words. Rumi was entirely under their thumb, and if the puddle forming beneath her waist on the sheets was anything to go by, she was absolutely loving it.

Zoey was so proud—her and Mira—of just how much Rumi was trusting them after so many years of emotional isolation. They both knew this was a lot for her, yet her she was pushing herself despite her own inhibitions. Trying. Actively trying to stifle her overwhelming need for control, for perfection and let herself be cared for. Be loved, with all the messy, imperfect baggage that entailed. That was all they could ask for. And they were ready to cradle that trust with all the tenderness it deserved.

The maknae’s tongue traced one particular pattern that paved the way towards Rumi’s slick lips. She smirked as those demonic stripes flickered beneath the warm wetness of her tongue; she stopped just short of the singer’s core before repeating the action on her opposite leg. Teasing oh so maddeningly close to the throbbing heat of Rumi’s want but always pulling back at the last moment within inches of her pussy to find more interest in the skin of her legs. The anticipation was beginning to drive the poor girl mad.

“She’s shaking,” the dancer observed, extending her voice to speak directly to Zoey as if the woman sandwiched between them wasn’t even there. Just an object of their pleasure. That idea just make Rumi squirm all the more. Amusement crackled in Mira’s tone as a hungry, knowing grin tugged at her lips. She tsked her tongue teasingly against the crook of Rumi’s jaw. “Rumi-ya…” she drawled playfully, like a cat with a mouse in its claws, “she hasn’t even done anything to you yet, baby~”

Rumi whined, shooting a side eye as if to say, stop teasing me, her patterns drenched in helpless gold again. Mira only chuckled. “Your fault for making it so easy,” she responded to their leader’s silent refute.

The half-demon huffed, about to retort audibly but the bravery to open her mouth proved to be her undoing as a delicate cry escaped from her with a sharp hiss. The rapper had blown gently over her glistening folds, still damp from their time with Mira just a short while ago and ridiculously sensitive. Zoey giggled at the immediate reaction, watching Rumi’s thighs quiver around her face, as those pretty patterns flashed through a series of different iridescent colors, like they couldn’t decide what hue to settle on as everything in the girl’s body pulsed with a primordial want awoken for the first time.

“Found a button~” the maknae hummed cheekily, pride washing over her as she thumbed little circles where the singer’s inner thighs met her waist. Rumi couldn’t stop shaking, the tension of anticipation raking through her as she could do nothing but whimper her patience. She felt like a tether pulled tight, about to snap under all the tension. The singer desperately wanted to clamp her thighs shut, sedate that ache which throbbed out of her like panging hunger, but Mira tucked dutifully around her own legs holding her open like a prize to be admired, didn’t make that an option. The half-demon could only groan her disapproval pitifully.

She felt hot, broken breath against her glistening pussy as Zoey chuckled; Rumi only cried out again; it wasn’t enough, she needed more. So much more. “God, you really are sensitive aren’t you, ampeom?” Zoey chuffed, lips brushing dangerously close to her folds as she spoke. Rumi whined as if to accentuate her point.

“Well I did just kind of fuck her beyond her own comprehending,” Mira informed aloud, something of pride laced in the timbre of her voice, “and she’s also about to get the best of the best tonguing down her pussy on her first round,” her praise to their youngest was partnered with a sharp, coy arch of her manicured brow.

Zoey bit her lip at the compliment. “Valid,” she settled on, kicking her legs lightly behind her where they bent at the knee to rest in the air. “Wanna bet who’ll she come harder to?” she asked jovially, not a trace of conceit in her tone, like they were betting who could race to the couch the fastest.

“It’s not a competition,” Mira quirked a grin down at her in amusement, happy to play along.

“No, but I’ve only ever topped you before and…well…I want to see if I’m actually good at it or if you’re just easy.”

The dancer sputtered; if Rumi wasn’t so on edge she might have laughed at her indignation. “I’m not easy!” Mira defended.

Zoey made a skeptical humming sound in the back of her throat. “Surrrree,” she drawled, “I guess we’re not counting the time I made you come in two min—”

“G-guys?” Rumi squeaked. The maknae’s mouth practically resting against her opening as she spoke was driving her up the wall. The surface of her skin felt alive and pricked with expectation like a live wire. Itchy with desire. Every second that passed felt like ten years to the aching need throbbing between her legs and turning her brain into mush. “Could you maybe do this later?” she trembled in the dancer’s grasp like a leaf in a rainstorm.

Mira hummed, “what?" she asked coyly, as if she didn’t perfectly know what Rumi was alluding to. “Play with your little pussy later? That’d be nice of you to let us finish our conversation, aein~” she smirked with pleasure at the jolt of dread which coursed through the half-demon’s body against her skin.

Rumi knew the dancer was just just pulling her leg but that didn’t stop the way her gut dropped at the thought of being held on edge any longer. “Miraa!” she whined, brows pinched pleadingly. “Please…” she all but whimpered.

The visual smiled, kissing her temple deeply as if to still her worries. “Rumi can give us a star rating afterwards,” she decided cooly, like they were discussing what to cook for dinner. “Isn’t that right, Rumi?” The eldest hummed, resting a chin on her patterned shoulder to cock her a playfully arched brow.

“Oh! With little star stickers!” Zoey buzzed, eyes twinkling like she was already imagining what colors to get. “We should start a chart with our names!”

“Y-yeah sure fine, later, please!” Rumi begged, voice strained under the heat coiled in her belly.

The rapper tsked at her tone, a performative shake of her head. “Impatience doesn’t win any good behavior stickers Ru-Ru~” she teased impishly, drumming her fingers over the half-demon’s hip.

Mira barked out a laugh, “you’re one to talk! You’d have negative stickers if we already had a leaderboard going—”

“Guys!” Rumi whimpered pitifully, the strained sound like the whimpering of an animal with a hurt paw, pleading for comfort.

“Sorry baby!” “Sorry love~” they briskly peppered apologetic kisses over her patterns, the smiles at the corners of their lips light and affectionate.

“We’re just playing!” The maknae assured, sweet eyes batting up at her. Nothing but warmth rested in her delicate irises

“I think she’d rather have you play with something else Zo…” Mira purred, the dark suggestion of her voice sent something hot and bothered shooting through Rumi’s body like little needles over her skin, pricking it to life with goosebumps.

Zoey giggled; the sound was music to both her companion’s ears, though for Rumi in that moment, it carried with it a promise of what was about to happen. The singer gulped, suddenly questioning why she’d been rushing to get on with it just a moment ago as the reality of her predicament once again came crashing down on her in an instant.

The maknae swiftly leaned up to kiss the corner of Rumi’s brow, stealing that wracked gaze towards herself for a moment. The lyricist met it with a warm smile before she entwined their hands together, giving them a grounding squeeze, as if to remind her best friend, her love, that she wasn’t going anywhere. That no matter how hard her spirit was about to ascend, Zoey— and Mira for that matter—were going to be with her the whole time, her anchors to the mortal plane.

“Ready to see God?” She smiled wide and wolfishly. Rumi was certain she was about to already just from the sight of Zoey’s face level with aching sex between her shaking thighs. She tried not to focus on how much her vision was tilting as she managed a strangled, “Y-yeah…”

Mira chuckled soundlessly against her, lips suckling a soft bit of flesh below her ear gently, as if to reward her bravery. “Atta girl~” she cooed.

“You got this, beautiful,” Zoey flashed her one more smile before licking her lips slowly, deliberately, as if to cleanse her pallet before the feast—and to make sure Rumi knew exactly what she intended to do with them. The half-demon whined, a weight formed in her stomach that only grew heavier as the lyricist carefully sunk down with uncharacteristic amble until her lips hovered just before Rumi’s waiting pussy.

Zoey stalled for a moment, as if to properly pay respects to such a reverent moment: that she was the first to take Rumi like this, the first to taste her so intimately. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds. She could feel the singer trembling from her breath against her alone, every muscle taut with anticipation for a sensation never before experienced.

They locked eyes, then Zoey kissed that other pair of lips, gently, right below her clit.

The reaction was instantaneous. A gasp. Deep. One that had her arching her back off the dancer’s chest at the foreign sensation, only held in place by the steady arms wrapped around her. Patterns flickered that beautiful opal shimmer as Rumi moaned louder than she meant to before her chest lowered again after her initial reaction. Her blurry eyes fell slowly down to the maknae between her thighs. Zoey flashed her a carnal grin before running a flat tongue up the entirety of her slit, with a slow deliberateness, savoring every inch of slick, smooth skin. Rumi cried again—a clear, and delicate sound that barely pierced the air, like a little ringing sleighbell.

“That’s a good girl,” Mira’s praise with a rumbling purr that set Rumi’s hair on end. The visual rubbed the patterns over her midriff, lighting them up with heat beneath her touch like a match to gasoline. “Let us hear that pretty singing voice.”

A sizzling tingle rippled up from between her legs to stab into her gut like a warm hand gripping her. Her throat stalled with breath as a skillfull little tongue reached out to trace the shape of her sensitivity. Rumi sighed, the feeling making her head swim in a way she never could have imagined to be so delicious. Lidded brown eyes peaked out from a sea of blushing red as she watched Zoey all but make out with her pussy. Lines of her own slick clung to girl’s lips during whatever brief seconds she pulled away to tilt her head for a new angle. They were as glistening as they were audible, the slick sound echoing up to Rumi’s ears in all their sinful glory. Wet and messy and absolutely shameless.

Rumi twitched, breath unsure what to do with itself in her throat as she whimpered; golden specks licked at the edges of her patterns as she squeezed her eyes shut, shyly hiding in Mira’s neck with a strained whine. She felt dizzy from how hot her face was.

The dancer laughed softly against her cheek. “You’re missing the show, aegiya,” Mira goaded her to open her eyes; the half-demon felt a thumb brush a loose bit of hair back behind her ear where it belonged, as if to give the eldest a clearer view of her adorable embarrassment. “She’s doing such a good job,” the dancer hummed into her ear, her own core igniting at the site of Zoey devouring all that Rumi had to give her with an insatiable appetite.“Don’t you want to see?” she cooed.

Rumi was very sure that she didn’t, just as she was very sure that she’d die on the spot if she strayed a peak. Her lips were a tight line as a ’nuh-uh’ sounded in her throat, eyes still shut as she could feel the heat on her face burn right down over her chest right above her pounding heart. She shuddered deliciously with a handsome moan as she felt Zoey giggle against her.

“It’s ok if you don’t,” the girl assured her kindly, their hands were still linked together; her thumbs rolling over Rumi’s knuckles soothingly. “Imagination can make it more fun~” she assessed, blowing on her folds again without warning as if to prove her point as Rumi moaned throatily at the sensation.

Zoey laughed, going back to work and diving her tongue in, like Rumi was a well, and she was parched. She drank in all the half-demon had and more, savoring the taste and each twitch at her unexpected ministrations. Rumi’s body was completely new territory, and she was oh so eager to explore it. To mark it as her and Mira’s. She experimented with pressure and speed, angle and length. Seeing what soundboard of debauchery she could pull from the pure girl’s lips.

A part of her was impatient to hold the singer open and take her as deep as she could but she wanted to keep their hands together. Wanted to remind Rumi she was there. As she was sure Mira wanted to as well, still clasped around her waist holding her steady through each twitch and quiver. And the half-demon would probably self-destruct if she was asked to hold herself open. Another time, Zoey told herself. Because that’s all they had now. Time. Their waiting was done. They had this incredible woman all to themselves. And she was magnificent. She wrote her admiration for their leader with her tongue against her cunt, swiping and curving like she was writing calligraphy, hardly coming up for air as she lost herself in her craft like an artisan in flow state.

Rumi was loosing herself too by the looks of it. Each little whimper and whine was music to their ears. The pop princess was of course known world wide for her voice, but only they got to hear it in this register. A certain giddiness came from that kind of exclusivity that sent a pang of desire into either women. They loved their badass, awkward, adorably self-conscious, determined, and affectionate girl it physically hurt. The kind of ache that felt so good in your chest as it squeezed around your ribs, begging to prove to their girl just how much she meant to them. How much she’d always meant to them.

Zoey was crushing it in that department, concocting a symphony of elation off the half-demon’s tongue…but Mira was left wanton with the aching desire to display her admiration. In particular, it was driving her crazy that Rumi was still hiding so adamantly. Unknowingly allowing herself to remain oblivious to the love burning in Mira’s eyes like starlight for her.

One of the arms around Rumi’s waist freed themselves so that a slender knuckle could tap beneath the lead hunter’s chin. Rumi’s lips parted with a soft, needy sound as she felt Mira’s breath on her face before she spoke.

“Hey,” Mira’s voice was like a beacon in the night on a moonless voyage at sea, calling her home. Beckoning. Gentle and inviting, yet crisp. “Open your eyes, aein,” she said, her voice tender, promising safety. “You don’t have to look down,” she assured, stroking her thumb over that warm cheek, “but look at me. Please? Your eyes are too adorable to keep to yourself.”

“Greedy Rumi,” Zoey hummed against her between her worship, lips smacking wetly with each word.

“Greedy Rumi,” Mira sang in echo. Each teasing voice sent butterflies through the half-demon’s stomach.

Not brown, but glowing amber eyes cracked open slowly to look at her, taking Mira’s breath away. “There you are~” The dancer praised with a purr, studying those fascinating eyes, drinking in how they slitted into lines, nearly becoming undetectable in a burning sea of honey as though they had become consumed with lust at the rapper’s ministrations. Feral.

God it was so hot.

She couldn’t help but steal a kiss which Rumi took hungrily to. Mira swore she thought she could feel Rumi’s chest vibrating softly, but no sound came out. Surely her imagination.

She pulled away, letting herself get lost in Rumi’s expression, soft, needing, delicate. She was dangling by a string held in their grip, and they had no intention of letting her go, letting her slip. Fragile and so entirely trusting. Like water held in the cup of tight hands, not a single drop escaping between their fingers. Mira committed the look to memory. This moment to memory. Their girl swaddled in the trust held between the trio so openly. It took Mira’s breath away. She hummed pleasurably, sucking in her lips as if to relish the flavor of the half-demon’s mouth.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this,” she uttered, suddenly breathless. “So needy for us. So soft,” she stroked over her girl’s burning cheek. She stole another kiss, briefer this time, like she wanted Rumi to hear her next words as quickly as possible. “I love you so much Rumi,” her voice dropped to that delicate timbre the stoic woman only used around her two companions. “We love you so much.”

“So fucking much!” Zoey only came up for air against the half-demon’s throbbing pussy before sinking back down, as if remiss to be apart from it for too long.

Mira snickered, an affectionate sound. “How does she taste, Zo?” she asked as her eyes never left Rumi’s, watching those black slits dilate shakily at the question spoken like she wasn’t even there. Her patterns matched her eyes, fighting opal for dominance.

Zoey only moaned, like it was too much to ask of her to leave that sweet pussy against her tongue. Rumi felt the maknae twist their joined hands to give the dancer a double thumbs up.

“I wonder if she tastes as good as she looks…” the visual mused seductively. Rumi didn’t have time to blush before she cried out as Zoey hummed harder against her then. The vibration felt indescribable as it shuddered over that twisted feeling in her abdomen. Her thighs shook again, lightly.

“Wanna find out?” Zoey quipped cheekily, her chin rolling away from her prize before she was leaning up to meet Mira’s lips with an easy passion.

They kissed above her, wet and open. A shiver raked through Rumi as she watched them. She couldn’t help but whimper as the light of her patterns caught the wetness on Zoey’s lips. Her wetness, glistening iridescent and gold, like she’d just eaten the Honmoon itself. Mira hummed as she tasted Rumi’s delectable saltiness on her tongue. The half-demon didn’t know what to do with that information, nor the look of sheer approval and desire for more that befell the visual’s face as the two women pulled apart with an audibly wet plop. She couldn’t tell if the lines which connected their lips for a moment as they parted was slick or saliva. She didn’t know what she wanted it to be. A whine caught in her throat.

“Yeah,” Mira purred contentedly, licking that shiny wetness off her lips like the ambrosia it was. “She does taste as good as she looks—” she smirked; she still facing Zoey as she stole a knowing glance out of the corner of her eye, surely to be met with the flustered red face of the girl watching them… though maybe it was a bit too flustered.

Rumi’s glowing eyes glistened with shy tears, the faintest of whimpers wincing out of her throat. It was all new, and there was a staggering amount of it.

They both started.

“Hey hey, you’re ok!” Zoey practically tripped over herself with sympathies, fretful hands gently taking hold of the singer’s warm face as if to cool the burning warmth of her cheeks with her soft, stroking thumbs.“Sorry, this is a bit much for you isn’t it?” she chuckled clumsily, crooked smile only showing empathy, but Rumi only took it as pity…the feeling didn’t sit right with her.

“N-no,” the singer refused, the sound strangled as she tried to get it out as fast as possible. “I’m fine,” she said shakily. Was she as skittish as a doe? Yes. But did she want the constant reminder that she was such a fragile, easily frightened thing in their eyes? Absolutely no.

The only thing more embarrassing than doing this all for the first time was just how embarrassed she was about everything, and she didn’t want to keep being reminded of that fact. Reminded of just how sheltered she was next to her bandmates. She felt a bit out of place beside her girls, felt more naked than the other two despite the clothes they all found themselves devoid of. Something about her upbringing training to be their leader, their foundation, arguably their strongest link, clashed so dissonantly with the reality that she was so out of her depth here between them, figuratively clutching her pearls at each new little trick they had up their sleeve and needing an extra moment to catch her breath less she faint right between them on the bed. That embarrassment calcified into something more of detest at her own inability to get with the damn program.

Rumi bit back a groan as she saw purple begin to creep its way into the room, because really…right fucking now? When she wasn’t trying to come off as self-conscious as she truly felt.

“It’s just….” she began, quickly, trying to interrupt the doubt creeping over her companions’ faces, halt their would be consultations which would only exacerbate her indignity. “Is…is this allowed?” she whispered, unable to shake the crawl up her skin like someone was going to catch them doing something they weren’t supposed to.

Her question was met with hearty laughter. Rumi didn’t know if that just rubbed salt in her wound or soothed her nerves. She suspected a bit of both, but perhaps more of the latter as she felt her eyes dry at the melodious sound filling the room.

“We can do whatever the hell we want!” Mira affirmed haughtily, eyes sharp with a dangerous kind of daring glee—confidence oozing in her words as her chest puffed against Rumi’s back.

“If we feel like doing it, why should anything else matter?” Zoey cocked her head, her signature impishly sweet grin spreading over her damp face.

Rumi’s golden eyes flickered between them. A part of her was jealous at just how much shame they lacked. About themselves. About each other. About her. But maybe that wasn’t a bad thing, she reasoned. Maybe that just meant they had room in their hearts to hold some of her shame for her for a while…so she didn’t have to worry so much.

“You guys are insane,” she uttered, more to herself than them.

“Ha! Oh, jagiya, this is easy mode, tonight,” Mira assured wickedly, “you haven’t seen the half of what we get into~” her knowing tone, the intention of her smirk, that cunning look behind her eyes as she recalled something to mind that Rumi couldn’t even begin to imagine… made her shiver. Her core throbbed lightly.

“So,” Mira voice’s lingered intentionally in the air as she scraped a nail down a shining pattern on Rumi’s throat, eating up the groan she practically summoned. “What do you want to do?” she demanded salaciously.

Rumi paused for a moment, watching them as if debating if she should voice something aloud before finally starting slowly. “Can…can I close my eyes again?” she asked quietly.

That earned her another laugh from her counterparts, though more affectionate this time. Endeared. Zoey kissed her forehead—Rumi shivered at how wet it was, trying not to freak out that it was her own wetness clinging to her skin. Her own face. “Whatever makes you comfy, unnie,” the maknae sang before slinking back down to her spot between her thighs. Rumi watched her before slender hands drifting around her ears from behind to rest their palms over her gaze above her eyelids.

“How’s this?” Mira’s lips appeared in her ear. Rumi’s world was engulfed in a gentle darkness, made comforting by the warm hands cradling around her face, cupping her vision gently but definitively.

“Better,” Rumi breathed. It really did make her feel better. She heard a chuckle. Kind, affectionate. “You are so precious~” the dancer cooed.

She felt Zoey take hold of her hands again, guiding them onto her own head. Tentative patterned fingers curled through familiar black hair, soft to the touch albeit a bit flat from the sweat stemming from the girl’s efforts.

“It’s ok to pull,” the rapper offered, “I like it rough~” the sweetness of her voice betrayed the suggestion of her words before she gripped onto the woman’s thighs with newly freed hands and plunged back in with newfound fervor. With a stronger hold she was able to go in further. Rumi cried out as Zoey wasted no time putting her tongue in as deep as she could take it, drinking in her taste thoroughly. The sound was wet and desperate and obscene. The singer gripped at those raven locks between her fingers like a lifeline before she knew what she was doing, throwing her head back in a rumbling moan.

Zoey stole a peak up just in time to see the flare of fangs behind pink lips. Both the singer’s top and bottom canines had extended subtly by a few extra centimeters, unmissable at even the quickest of glances. They sparkled against the glowing iridescence of the room like pearls tucked in a clam on the sea floor, winking in the stray glimmers of sunlight from the world above.

The maknae felt her jaw hang open as a pretty blush kissed her cheeks. Her eyes boggling as she mouthed a silent ‘h o l y s h i t ! ’ to her companion above. Mira grinning wickedly, mouthing back just as excitedly, ‘ I k n o w !’

The sound that ripped from Rumi’s lungs was just short of a growl as she shuddered uncontrollably between the two women.

“Does that feel good, Rumi-gongju?” Mira pulled the lobe of her ear between her teeth. “Zoey fucking you nice and deep with her little tongue?”

“Oh god—!” Rumi cried, she couldn’t stop shaking as that warm, wet muscle licking over places she didn’t even know existed. “F-fuck!” Heat coiled in her belly that made her mouth unable to close. That might have been for the best with how desperately she was sucking in air, trying not to suffocate as the maknae’s fervor left little room for her lungs to remember how to function.

The dancer snickered against her jaw. “I think that’s a yes,” she purred. “Rumi thinks you’re doing a good job, Zo,” she cooed down to the girl holding the half demon’s thighs in a death grip, surely leaving half-moon impressions in her skin. Not that any of them cared much in the moment. Especially not Rumi, her patterns seeming to love the sensation, crackling and sparkling as if to ask for more. Mira leaned back to give the other side of Rumi’s neck some much needed attention. “You know…she can do even better if you hold her down,” she suggested with a sinful growl. “She loves it.”

It was Zoey’s turn to moan, the sound sending ripples of pleasure over the poor singer. “Please,” the rapper begged between her folds, words dripping with such desperation one might have mistaken her for the one being fucked and held on edge right now. “Please Rumi!”

“She’s so sweet~” the dancer cooed wickedly, “you don’t want to deny our maknae do you?” Rumi could feel her smirk cutting into the skin of her neck like a knife dragged across her patterns intoxicatingly. She pulsed around Zoey’s tongue.

Rumi gingerly pressed just a bit harder against the maknae’s head, apprehensive at first, afraid of how much was too much. “It’s ok,” Mira assured, her tone mellowing into something kinder then, soothing her quaking uncertainty. “You won’t be too much for her, I promise.” The rapper’s made a sound against her, as if to agree, to encourage, to welcome.

With that, the half-demon put more pressure on the back of Zoey’s head, pushing her deeper into her core. Rumi cried out again at that deft tongue fucking her, dragging and curling inside of her as if trying to leave the impression of herself within her cunt. To be remembered each time the singer felt an ache the following morning. The rapper melted further into her at the sweet sound, letting a mewl of her own mix with Rumi’s cries in an wanton sympathy of desire.

“My good girls,” Mira praised them, voice laced with a ravenous affection and unconditional love. She shifted to blind the singer with one hand so her other could fall to Rumi’s thigh, pressing a palm against it where Zoey’s grip rested, grinning when the rapper intwined their fingers together instinctively. They fit together so perfectly; they all did.

Rumi felt that heat in her stomach build and build, further than she ever could have imagined. She’d thought her first orgasm of the night had been enough to leave her questioning her own existence, but then the lyricist was shifting up to wrap her lips around her clit to suck hard .

The scream that wrenched from Rumi’s throat boarded on painful as it echoed off the walls. The benefit to owning an entire tower to themselves meant they had no neighbors and no reservations to be as loud as they wanted. Which was good because the sound that ripped from her body was probably heard by the passersby on the street.

The dancer laughed lazily behind her. “Shit,” she snickered approvingly.

Her fists clenched around black hair, tugging delectably at the maknae’s scalp. Some cognizant part of the singer feared in that moment she may very well rip Zoey’s hair out, but neither woman seemed to pay that concern any mind in the given moment, only aching for more.

“I…I-I,” the singer’s words fought to gargle their way past her moaning.

“Go ahead we’ve got you,” Mira encouraged swiftly. “You’ve been so good for us,” she kissed her cheek deeply, enough to squish into her face. “You’ve earned it, love.”

“I…I can’t,” Rumi whimpered, reasoning still bogging down her mind like an iron anchor tugging on a sailboat as it tried to coast freely in the wind. There was such an intensity building in her she didn’t know how to control it…and Zoey’s face was literally right on top of its exit. “It feels like I might—” make a mess? Do something embarrassing? Come violently all over Zoey’s sweet, doting face? She’d probably like that in all honesty, but this was all so new for Rumi that just the thought alone made her chest ping sharply with self-consciousness. It was then the hand against her eyes moved to grab her chin, turning her to face Mira’s hardened, lustful yet calming eyes. They seemed to stab straight through her head as if to forcefully rip the girl out of her own insecurities.

“Don’t worry about the mess, just let go” she assured, as if her words could smooth out the crease of fear scrunched at the corner of Rumi’s eyes.
“It’s ok to let go, we’ve got you. You’re gorgeous like this, baby. You’re ok, it’s ok,” she promised delicately.

Zoey said something against her, something that sounded like ‘please’. The vibration of her voice against her clit pulled Rumi’s eyes down before she could stop herself. Slitted eyes dilated wantonly as they caught sight of the girl devouring her in every sense of the word. Lost in her taste, her warmth, numb to the outside world like the sweet nectar pooling around her lips was all she needed to be happy in life. Before she even had the semblance of the chance to form a coherent thought at the image which met her, Mira moved in for the kill.

“Come on her pretty face like a good girl!”

The scream that attempted to leave Rumi’s lungs morphed into a sob by the time it left her lips. Smoldering golden eyes wrenched shut along with her jaw; fangs clashing against each other with an audible chomp as she came harder than she had just moments ago. Harder and wetter. Not that Zoey was particularly complaining, working overtime to drink up all that the half-demon had to give her, unyielding even as the woman’s bucking hips threatened to loosen the rapper’s grip around her patterned thighs. She held her tight, determined, even as Rumi’s arms fell limp and released their death grip from the maknae’s raven hair, Zoey kept going until she knew the singer was empty.

Finally, as the hard, sporadic shudders subsided into delicate quivers, the youngest woman pulled away, sucking in a breath as if surfacing from water. Slick ruin coated her cheeks so prettily as she ran her own wet tongue around her lips to catch whatever excess she missed. She leaned back down to place one last kiss over the girl’s mound as if parting goodbye, watching with a giggle lingering behind her lips at the aching jerk she spurned in Rumi’s hips, so overstimulated.

Before she knew it Mira was pulling her into a messy kiss, not letting a single drop of the lead hunter’s ambrosia go to waste. Zoey grinned, beaming like a puppy being pet as she felt the visual’s tongue lap over her cheeks.

“Look at you,” Mira uttered, her tone so dotingly heated, like warmed sugar. She swiped a thumb over Zoey’s chin to collect the remainder of Rumi’s ecstasy dribbling off her flushed skin. “You look like you tried to eat a water hose,” she remarked licking her fingers.

“A very cute water hose!” Zoey affirmed, her words a bit slurred after the workout her mouth had just had. Her soft brown eyes fell down to their ruined girl quivering beneath them. Rumi looked like a dream, faintly glowing eyes half lidded and glossy in the afterglow of release, panting between parted lips. Her fangs still hadn’t receded from their recent lust-fueled growth spurt, and were very much still visible against the rest of her mouth, like a hidden prize waiting to be opened and cherished. Her patterns sparkled like stained glass beneath the sheen of sweat that clung to her body as morning dew droplets graced blades of grass. She quite literally twinkled against the quiet city lights beyond the window, weaving an aura of light and color around herself. She looked downright heavenly. She looked…

“Gorgeous,” Zoey fawned, cupping one of those soft cheeks as she wiped the warm sweat lovingly from Rumi’s brow with the back of her hand, tucking away the flyaway hairs that escaped her immaculate braid with the delicacy one may handle a priceless artwork with. The singer’s body was late to respond, twitching subtly from the touch several seconds later as her brain lagged behind the rest of her. The maknae kissed the curve of Rumi’s cheek sweetly. “A gorgeous waterhose,” she hummed playfully.

Rumi was too spent to blush, she just made a quiet whine in her throat that Zoey committed to memory.

“Speaking of water…”

Rumi vaguely registered the bed shifting as someone leaned away for something, someone else shifting her up into more of a sitting position. Then a warm hand was then on her chin, tilting it back.

“Open, love~” an impossibly sweet voice drifted into her ears so delicately the singer didn’t even question the request. Which was perhaps why she didn’t actually consider what was happening, immediately coughing at the water suddenly appearing on her lips.

Another voice chuckled, she didn’t know who’s was who’s. Everything was so spacey. She felt like she was floating on a current, gentle tugs of fogginess kneading at her mind and cradling her so wonderfully.

“Let’s try that again. Slowly Ru, slowly,”

Cool liquid fell past her lips once more, though this time it slipped past her throat with little issue. “That’s it jagi,” a distant voice encouraged, “good girl.” She downed the glass until her throat wasn’t scratchy with the memory of her lustful screams anymore.

“God, she’s so out of it,” a voice sounded reverently, like the sight of Rumi was a delicate thing to hold in their gaze.

“I think you fucked her thoughts out, Zoey,”

A giggle vibrated at her side and lips kissed her temple, then someone else kissed her jaw. She couldn’t tell admittedly who was who—couldn’t focus—not with the cold dampness beneath her. A wet pool of evidence to her uncouth. The stickiness between her legs clung to her skin in a way that suddenly felt itchy. She blinked, the last few moments of the night finally returned to her with a sobering amount of clarity. And with it, a wave such raw vulnerability it felt like her flesh had been rubbed with sandpaper. Raw and cracked and far too sensitive to the air in the room. She didn’t want to admit it aloud but Zoey was maybe right. Maybe this all was a bit much. Not exactly bad per se, but so much of a new thing it proved debilitating when she actually stopped and considered it.

Rumi winced, thoughts clashing in her mind so much she could practically hear the scuffle between her ears. She felt incredible. Immaculate. Her stomach quaked with wonderful relief and contentment. She felt a type of fullness she never quite experienced before, but one that left her feeling warm and nurtured, like stepping under the embrace of a hot shower on a cold winter night.

But at the same time so felt so very sheepish. Her skin was rippling with aftershakes of pure bliss that left her feeling too seen, and the hot musk of sex clung to the room so fiercely she wondered if it would ever leave. A part of her didn’t want it to, and another part blushed at the thought it may never remove itself from her bedsheets. Would they stain? She wondered. How she could parse through such opposing thoughts she didn’t know.

Her breath hiccuped without her permission, and she couldn’t stop herself from feeling ashamed that she was feeling ashamed for such a wonderful experience. She suddenly felt like she was taking up too much room on the bed. Making too much noise. Too on display. She hugged her arms around her weak knees as she brought them to her chest, a subtle lavender echoing across her skin.

“Hey, no disappearing,” Mira said firmly but not unkindly, leaning around to her side to better look at her, a palm on her cheek guiding her face to meet her; a commanding tenderness instructing those hazy eyes to stay open. “That’s why we’re here,” she swiped an unshed tear from said eye, “Tell us what you’re stressing about so we can tell your brain to shut up for you, yeppeun,” she said with her own brand of flat affection.

The singer chewed her lip, trying to avoid their gaze, which proved difficult given how she was still caged between them…especially difficult with Mira holding her face so softly, and Zoey’s gentle hands resting warmly on her knees, little thumbs stroking over her patterns.

“I…I feel,” Rumi swallowed, an itchiness prickled over her. Rarely did she ever get stage-fright performing for a sea of strangers, but somehow the people who knew her most intimately left her stammering under their undivided attention. “Awkward?…I guess,” Rumi mumbled.

“Why?” Zoey cocked her head at a 45 degree angle, and for a moment Rumi almost forgot to feel self-conscious with their maknae was looking so damn cute. “ ‘Cause you squirted like a fire hydrant?” Her question was one of genuine, innocent curiosity but it did nothing to settle the half-demon’s bashfulness.

“Zoeeyy!” Rumi whined, her palms finding her burning face as she bowed out of their gaze, her forehead head nearly resting at her ankles. “Not helping,” she whimpered pitifully.

Mira snickered fondly, an easy hand rubbed over the ridges of the singer’s back like a balm over her soul. “Relax, Ru, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” the dancer assured, placing her over hand beneath her shoulder to encourage her back upright. Rumi reluctantly obeyed yet stayed hidden in her cupped hands. “Zoey’s just that fucking good at what she does,”

“Damn straight!” Rumi didn’t have to look to know the rapper had her chest puffed out in pride.

“Everything’s ok, aein, I promise. You did a good thing,” Mira soothed, sealing her words with a kiss to her forehead. Her voice became tender, one of those rare moments of vulnerability the dancer allowed herself to have with her two favorite people, and them alone. “I know when you’re in the moment you’re not really thinking things all that through, and then when it’s all over and everything comes back clearer it’s just…a lot at once,” she mused, fussy with a loose strand of lavender hair.

“Post nut clarity’s bitch,” Zoey shook her head empathetically, “but you know you’re always gonna be safe with us, right?”

We’re never going to judge you,” Mira continued, “do you know that ampeom?” Mira looked at her seriously with a conviction so crystallized with protectiveness Rumi could have cried as she peaked from her hands to witness such righteous attentiveness.

“Yes,” Rumi didn’t hesitate, though her voice wavered, as if the sentiment were something one half of herself believed yet the other still held reservations about its validity.

“Good!” Zoey chirped undeterred all the same, gingerly taking patterned wrists in her grip. The half-demon allowed it, that rawness on her skin feeling not so harsh anymore with their gentle affirmations smoothing them over. “And I hope you also know how amazing you’re doing for us, unnie!” She beamed, the glee in her eyes was infectious. A shy smile was already finding the corners of Rumi’s lips.

“So amazing~” Mira echoed her praises with emphasis, shifting to rest her weight lazily on one arm beneath her to better see her two girls. Her world.

“We’re both crazy proud of you! Two orgasms already are you kidding!?” Zoey reached that special decibel of excitement her two companions were certain only dogs could hear. They were smiling at her now, especially Rumi when the maknae crawled up onto her lap as if she thought she could better convey her excitement at a closer distance… despite literally already being within arms length. “I can’t tell if its your patterns or you that’s glowing!”

“Corny…” Mira deadpanned with an unimpressed eyes, half lidded in affection. “But true. Your afterglow is beautiful Ru,” her free hand trailed down the shuddering iridescent patterns of her forearm. “And don’t think for a second you’re the only person to ever make a mess,” she proposed with something of a wicked glint in her chestnut eye. "You know how many comforters we go through in a year?” Mira lolled her head with something of pride sparkling in her eyes.

“At least seven!” Zoey beamed like it was an accomplishment.

“Bobby has our styles set to auto-ship at this rate,” Mira drawled with something pleasantly mischievous on her tongue.

“He doesn’t question it?” Rumi ogled at them, lips agape.

“Hehe…we tell him we eat in bed,” Zoey said with a wry sort of naughtiness lacing her tongue, cheeks kissed with a blush she didn’t even try to hide.

“It’s not a lie~” Mira purred, all too happy to allow her pride bleed through her voice.

Rumi pinched her brow with a soft breath, closing her eyes as she took the glass held in Zoey’s hand and gulped more cool liquid down—more so in an attempt to settle the heat of her face than to actually stay hydrated. “You’re both depraved…” Rumi mumbled into her water.

“Um I think you mean ‘we’re’ depraved?” Zoey bellowed pushing the half-demon’s shoulder playfully, totally ambivalent to the fact Rumi was mid swallow and nearly choked.

“You’re just as corrupted as we are now,” Mira hummed happily, plucking the glass from a patterned grip to take a sip herself before passing it back to the rapper who finished it off.

“You’ve joined the dark side”

“We have matching t-shirts”

A small bubble of laughter rumbled from Rumi’s throat as she eyed the two of them, nothing but warmth and acceptance met her back. “You’re ridiculous—“ Her breath hitched as Zoey shifted where she sat atop her thighs, her bare skin feeling the warm dripping slick of the lyricist’s pussy like hot hungry tears.

A moment passed, then the maknae giggled wickedly as she clocked what happened, not hesitating to do it again and watched impishly as Rumi fisted the sheets beneath her in a death grip to hold herself still. She bit back a groan as she shuddered slightly. Heat flared across patterns beneath where Zoey sat perched and she didn’t try nearly as hard to stifle her own groan—the warmth of those markings kissing at her damp sensitivity like a warm caress.

“You were saying?” Mira purred huskily, eyeing Rumi with smug hunger that darkened her eyes.

Rumi vaguely looked at her, first in embarrassment then in subtle amazement as she felt her sensitive core already beginning to drip in expectation again despite having seemingly already received its fill for the night and then some.

“How…how long does this go on?” The singer gaped at them genuinely. She’d already come twice now and from the look in her girlfriends’ eyes they hardly looked like they were anywhere close to calling it quits for the night.

“As long as we want it to,” Mira hummed like the fact was delightfully sweet-tasting on her tongue. “Why? Is our princess tapping out already?” her eyes smoldered.

“When we haven’t even had our turns!” Zoey pouted.

Rumi flushed, feeling silly for not considering—

“Oh I’m-I’m sorry—” she fumbled quickly before a warm hand on her shoulder settled her.

“No, none of that,” Mira dismissed steadily, kissing over that worried brow. “We’re just teasing you, Ru. Tonight’s about you and what you’re comfortable with. If you feel like returning the favor, great. If you aren’t ready, that’s more than fine too,” her brown eyes softened to take all of the girl in as if to cradle her, body and soul. Rumi felt so seen she began to quiver for a whole other reason. “We won’t ask for anything you aren’t up to giving yet. Zoey and I can more than take care of ourselves. Right Zo?”

“Of course! It’s all your call Rumi—we’re happy with whatever makes you comfortable!” If Mira’s words were a hug, then Zoey’s were a kiss on the forehead. They completed each other; working in tandem to drape her in a blanket of warm safety. “If you’re ready to call it here, we’ll help get you all cleaned up and comfy, alright?” she hummed sweetly before something naughty flickered in those chocolate sweet eyes. “Heh…if you want to you can even sit back and watch us ~” she purred.

Rumi looked back at Zoey. Then at Mira. Watching them hard and thinking. Thinking about these two women that loved and accepted her so unconditionally. Just as she did them. Thinking about how hard she wanted to them that love back. How hard she wanted to explore them, learn how to make them feel as good as they deserved. Learn what sounds they would make as their bodies slotted together like they had all been made for one another. She wanted to know that sparkle behind their eyes as they looked back at her with desire and satisfaction. She wanted to give them that satisfaction. In spades.

What if I want to do more than watch…

Her bandmates shifted, something coy growing in their features that had the half-demon sweating immediately. “D-did I say that out loud?” Rumi blanched.

“Oh yeah, you definitely just did!” Zoey’s grin was splitting. Rumi tried to backpedal but Mira was having none of it, cutting in before she could even get a flustered stammer out.

“And just what kind of things did you have in mind for us, yeobo?” when did Mira get so close? “Please, share with the class,” She cooed with a perfect quirk of her head.

“You know we love details Ru-Ru” Zoey fawned.

“All of them~”

“Uhh,” Rumi breathed. Who’d have thought gold and scarlet could be such a beautiful combination of colors? Mira and Zoey hadn’t and they were more than happy to get their fill of such a pretty view tonight. “I…I just want to make you feel good,” Rumi stammered honestly, uncharacteristically she really hadn’t thought that far ahead. She just knew what she wanted and that she wanted to act on it.

Mira and Zoey shared a look then, something that seemed to speak ‘but she does that so well already’ to one another without words. If only the half-demon was privy to their silent language and didn’t misinterpret their sideways glances as doubt.

“I mean I want to try! I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it but—“

“Rumi,” Mira cut her off bluntly, slamming on the breaks of the singer’s mental spiral with a platformed heel. “It’s sex, not a performance,”

Rumi chewed her lip. She knew they held no expectation and thus no disappointment with her inexperience, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t holding herself to insane standards. Perfection had been instilled into her bones practically since birth, and the thought of messing up was more terrifying than the act she wanted to do itself.

”It doesn’t have to be perfect, jagiya, it just has to feel right,” Zoey assured. “You’re gonna have hiccups, everyone does their first time, it’s just how this stuff goes and that’s ok. You’ve never gotten the hang of something on your first try, have you? Don’t answer that!” The maknae cut off the walking embodiment of perfectionism before she could list off the multitude of things she freakishly refined on her first go with her inhuman levels of talent.

“We don’t want perfect, we want you,” the hand on her shoulder slide down to grip gentle at her forearm as Mira leaned in for a kiss to a patterned temple—licking her lips as she pulled away to cool that deliciously warm sizzle running across them.

Those three little words seemed to be enough. That gentle affirmation of her lovers’ shared desire for her and all the messiness that entailed.
She’d lost count of just how many times her heart had swooned tonight as Rumi leaned up before the dancer could disappear, locking their lips in an unspoken thank you.

Mira hummed happily, continuing the kiss though oddly enough holding still. Rumi realized clumsily the dancer was waiting for her to lead. The half-demon tilted her chin pushing back a bit firmer against her lover’s mouth, feeling how it curved into a proud grin. Rumi found herself hungry to push it wider. She experimentally gave a tug to that pink bottom lip between her teeth and the visual gasped with a soft shiver.

Rumi pulled back with immediacy, concern laced across her features. “Are you ok?” She asked quickly, voice stilted. Her shoulders loosened somewhat at Mira’s easy laugh in place of an answer. “I’m fine, princess. Just happy to know those fangs are as sharp as they look,” the eldest praised with a pleased tongue painting her bottom lip.

She knew it was positive—somewhere in Rumi knew truly that it was a positive remark. But that didn’t stop that familiar echo of dread churning in her belly. How could she have been that careless? She’d actually forgotten for a moment that her fangs were still out. Still long and dangerous. She didn’t know how little pressure she needed to apply to break skin…to hurt her loved ones, and she wasn’t about to find out. She needed to be more careful…

“THEY ARE!?” The maknae practically squealed in delight, giving the singer a jolt. “I wanna see, I wanna see!” eager hands found the lead hunter’s shoulders, shaking them dully in unbridled excitement. “Kiss me unnie, please!” She begged, big brown eyes widening comically large as her bottom lip trembled for extra measure.

Rumi giggled easily. “You’ll never have to beg for that, babo,” she pulled Zoey into a kiss as easily as breathing. The maknae’s delighted giggle shook from her own chest and into the half-demon’s as Rumi was more than happy to part her lips for her girl to explore. She shuddered tasting the vague lingerings of her own release which still slept on the lyricist’s tongue, but had to file that reaction away for later as the current way Zoey was running her deft little muscle across her sharpened teeth left Rumi with a new sense of pleasure flowing through her. She moaned softly, tilting her head to allow the girl more space which the rapper was very eager to accept.

Rumi thought she heard Mira mutter something like, “greedy girl,” under her breath but was too distracted by the flex of that tongue in her mouth. Specially, the way the lyricist seemed to be putting deliberate pressure down on her sharp canines, as if trying to see just how close she could fly to the sun before she felt a kiss of heat. The faintest glimmer of magenta sizzled across the half-demon’s arms, so fast the other girls barely noticed. Rumi tensed, half debating on pushing the girl off her lap but thankfully Zoey made the decision for her as she pulled away breathlessly not a moment later.

The dopey grin on the maknae’s cheeks seemed to loosen the singer’s shoulders right up again. Zoey was ok…she was still safe…Rumi hadn’t done something unforgivable. Everything’s fine. This is fine.

“Damn…you weren’t kidding!” The rapper was beaming at this revelation. “That’s so fucking hot—!“ Rumi barely time to even humor a response as their mouths crushed together again with unbridled fervor. In spontaneous jolt of confidence, perhaps fueled by fear, a hand found purchase over Zoey’s sternum and began pushing her back gently, Rumi following close after until she had the girl rested against the mattress beneath her. Zoey giggled in delight at her sudden boldness.

Rumi might have heard Mira’s cockily pleased ‘atta tiger’ this time if she wasn’t so focused on keeping Zoey pressed against the soft fabric where she couldn’t try pulling another sharpness test with her own tongue. Subtle relief washed through the singer at that assurance as well as…something she couldn’t quite articulate. A tiny spark of rightness crackling in an unused hearth, unassuming at first, but easily having the power to spread and grow. And grow it did.

Being on top of Zoey like this felt so very right, Rumi thought to herself. Something in her bones was telling her so, encouraging her forward, almost pleading with her to take more. And Rumi obeyed without thinking. Obeyed because god she didn’t know something could feel so right in life. Having this body beneath her at the mercy of her lead. This being held firm her in her grip was so small, so much weaker than she— it would be so easy to subdue and toy with however she pleased—

Rumi blinked, yanking herself upwards with a choked gasp. Where the hell did that come from? She wasn’t the type whose mind slipped into such intrusive thoughts about others. Ones that took advantage of the people who trusted her more than anything. Just the idea of fantasizing such horrible things about either of her lovers churned her stomach something vile. The singer definitely didn’t recall forming the thought herself, but the horrifying part was…those words had been whispered by her own voice.

A subtle pink tickled at the corners of her patterns.

“That was so good, Ru!” The sweetest hunter below her praised obliviously, cupping the half demon’s cheeks and squishing them. The pressure was a bit uncomfortable with her extended fangs poking into the skin of her mouth, but it was such a Zoey gesture it made even a small part of her chest lighten; the half-demon felt inclined to endure it. In fact she fed into it, hoping to drown out the creeping anxiety she prayed wasn’t evident on her face. “How did it feel?” Zoey asked eagerly, eyes scanning over her so excitedly and just brimming with glee Rumi couldn’t find it in herself to lie.

“Nice?” Rumi said like she wasn’t sure how to describe it herself. It was good, until that last uncharacteristic train of thought, but other wise, ten out of ten.

“Topping Zoey usually does,” Mira hummed in her ear, chuckling at Zoey’s preciously indignant harumph beneath them as she easily pulled Rumi back into their kiss that had been so rudely adorably interrupted. Rumi hesitantly cupped the dancer’s face, Mira leaned into the touch subtlety but with clear enthusiasm. Encouragement. I’m enjoying this, you can keep going, it seemed to say.

Rumi tangled her digits into pink locks of hair, gently tilting her head to take back the lead she’d had before…though it seemed Mira had other plans this time, poking her tongue between Rumi’s lips, eager to taste Zoey off her teeth. Something sudden and sharp flared in Rumi’s chest, so fast in made her head spin.

Her and Mira had always been competitive with each other, ever since the beginning. Goading, egging, pushing one another to their furthest potential. Encouraging, but never spiteful. Amicable. So the rush of indignity Rumi felt stabbing in her chest was foreign, it was hot and stinging. Did the dancer really think she had to right to control the kiss like this when Rumi was supposed to be leading? Isn’t that what they had asked her to do? She should put her in her place until she’s learned respect with a bowed head and downed eyes, whimpering and begging beneath her—

Rumi sucked in a breath as she abruptly pulled away from the loves of her life for a second time. There it was again. That conscience whispering in her ear she didn’t recognize. It scared her. It scared her a lot, because for a fleeting second she had agreed with it. She had wanted to make Mira beg and tremble from her touch. Just like she wanted to hear Zoey cry and pant her name, taking what she deemed to be enough from the little maknae.

She scooted away from them on instinct before consciously having to stop herself. No…I am NOT a runner, she declared to herself adamantly.

Her girls exchanged a look. Alarm, confusion, concern, then understanding. Then warmth. Love. Fuck, they always looked at her like she was the easiest thing to love. Like there wasn’t something jagged and aggressive nestled just below her skin.

Mira put a hand on her knee, waiting patiently, always so patiently, for Rumi to timidly meet her eye. “You’ve got this, Rumi-ya,” she said softly. “Do what feels right…and stop listening to your head,” a smirk pulled at her lips with that wry sort of fondness that melted the singer.

Mira meant well, she knew that, but Mira was reading her mental war as just basic nerves, and for a moment Rumi found herself angry at this unpossessed inhibition. Why couldn’t she just be nervous about kissing good enough? Why did she have to be nervous about the demon clawing beneath her flesh, begging to devour, to claim what was its? Hers…

It was her, wasn’t it? She could act proud and refined all she liked, pretend this demon inside of her was a separate entity, one she could compartmentalize and boldly proclaim didn’t speak for her. But the fact of the matter was they were one in the same. Two voices occupying the same body and bleeding into one another. Perhaps that line was more stark when she was younger, when Rumi worked hard every day to stuff it down, but now that she was learning to accept that part of herself that divide was now blurring. It was clawing into that neat little box she called her and making itself at home. Learning to use its words for the first time.

Rumi felt her mouth become dry.

Why couldn’t she just be scared of the embarrassment of fucking poorly, why did she have to be scared of doing something unforgivable to the two women she loved more than anything?

She grit her teeth.

Tender hands grabbed hers, Rumi nearly snarled at herself for how the demon in her ears was focusing on just how easy it would be to hold those tiny wrists with one hand, how easy it would be to hold her down and consume, devour, own whatever she wanted with nothing Zoey could do about it. Just a plaything…

No, she’s not…she’s more than that

Glowing amber eyes met Zoey’s gentle gaze. Her pupils weren’t slitted, not yet, but they burned hot with a desire and nervousness swirled so clumsily together it was a bit dizzying to get lost in.

“You’re ok, babe. You’re doing great. Take all the time you need. We’ll be right here,” Zoey cooed sweetly, always so sweetly for Rumi.

“What if…what if I mess up?” Rumi mumbled, trying to lasso the pangs of fear creeping in her throat.

“Then we have a giggle about it and keep going,” Zoey uttered easily. Leaning up to kiss her brow. An innocent enough gesture, one that should have been soothing, not enticing— however before Rumi knew what she was doing she was grabbing Zoey’s chin into a proper kiss before the younger woman had the audacity to leave. Leave before she got a taste of those delicious lips. So warm, so soft, so hers… so right.

It felt right, having her where she wanted. Pulling her lips into hers. Leading them. Commanding them. Taking what she wanted. What she deserved. What Zoey owed her—

Stop it!

Rumi’s brow furrowed as she fought to subdue her raging thoughts, jaw tightening as she kissed harder, as if trying to fuse their mouths together would be enough to distract her mind.

Zoey squeaked, pulling away. “Woah, easy tiger,” the rapper chuckled, catching her breath, “I’m not going anywhere,” her smile did nothing to soothe Rumi this time. It was naive, oblivious to the monster gnawing at the bars of its cage, loosening the bolts with every adamant thud against the steal. And the maknae was only waving that wet steak in front of its maw to encourage its desperation. One part of the singer begged her to stand back, the other pleaded to come just a little closer.

“S-sorry” Rumi flushed, leaning back immediately. Perhaps not so much to give her space, but to pretend she could distance herself from…herself.

“Don’t apologize for being cute, silly,” Zoey hummed kissing her nose. Rumi would have responded before another set of lips found her jaw, humming against her.

“Hope there’s some leftover for me,” Mira cooed easily, teeth finding Rumi’s pulse and biting lightly. Something hot and dangerous coiled in the half-demon. Her patterns burned amber, nearly orange as slitted eyes raked ravenously over the dancer. A hand Rumi didn’t recall commanding to move fisted pink hair.

Mira didn’t seem to mind, chuckling proudly. “Someone’s feeling braver—“ Rumi cut her off with the press of her lips as if Mira’s arrogance offended something fragile and proud inside of her. But it never has before…Rumi always loved her teasings. They made her tingle with a warmly fuzzy feeling of being seen; ripped open and picked up with the tenderest of care by skilled, reverent hands.But that other self within her, the one gnashing its teeth with growing rage against its muzzle took the words as ridicule. As a challenge. Rumi could feel her demon’s urge to rip that dominance away from her companion. To prove her wrong. To show who was in control.

Control…

Claim…

Take…

No!

Rumi grimaced into the kiss, jaw clenching as a desperate sound left her throat. Desperate to be left alone, to enjoy this moment with own thoughts. Her own desires. Alone with her girls without any shadows lingering in the doorway. But the more she tightened the leash the more beast seemed to thrash. Not deterred but emboldened, restless. Fighting back tirelessly for just one hiccup, a little slack in the hunter’s grip to break free to pounce with abandon.

Rumi wouldn’t give it the opportunity. She’d double down. If it fought back she’d do the same twofold. Maybe that’s why she’d been too busy to realize Mira’s lip was still between her teeth as she clenched down in retaliation—

She felt the dancer flinch stiffly against her. Rumi blinked in confusion, pulling away to analyze the visual. Mira snickered, something of surprise in her features which simmered into a warm sort of pride as she brought a fingertip up to hover over her lip, dabbing away a bit of oddly red spit.

Rumi only looked at her, curious.

Mira chuckled, a husky, wanton sound that betrayed what had just happened.

“Yeah…definitely sharp,” she cooed.

Rumi’s gaze properly caught her lip.

Her bloody lip.

Angry magenta light burned at the walls of the room...

Chapter Text

“Yeah…definitely sharp,” Mira purred, the gleam in her eyes smoldering with want. Rumi didn’t see it though, her eyes were drawn to the crimson painted on Mira’s lip. She stared hard, blinking as her thoughts waded through the molasses of confusion before she tasted it…

Bitter iron sitting on her tongue.

Rumi’s stomach dropped so hard some distant part of herself wondered if her spine would bruise from the impact as her breath ground to a harsh halt in her throat.

The room was engulfed in magenta, like a fire had erupted on the bed, painting the walls in burning hues of pinkish red as the girl they emanated from all but wrenched herself away from the pair as if yanked on a wire. Even when she smacked into the headboard so hard she saw stars, she still forced herself further away like she could phase through the damn thing.

Mira and Zoey took a second to regard her in shock before a hidden switch seemed to flip and they steeled into reaction.

“Rumi…” Mira started evenly, beginning to approach her slowly but without hesitation; determined . “It’s alright,” she held a single hand out carefully in the air, half outstretched to the singer as she kept her head low…not unlike how one might approach a cornered animal.

Because that’s what she was right now, wasn’t she?

An animal…

No better than some snarling thing which bit the hand only trying to pet it.

“No!” Rumi barked at her, voice straining like it physically hurt her to speak. She stiffened at the dancer’s hand reaching towards her, as slow as it was, golden, slitted eyes pinpricked with panic as the world fishbowled and darkened around her.

“Hey,” Zoey uttered so impossibly soft it nearly brought tears to the half-demon’s eyes as she peaked into her field of vision from behind Mira’s shoulder. Rumi didn’t deserve that gentleness. Not after what she’d done—what she couldn’t do. Protect her girls, keep them safe from the demon…from her. “You’re ok,” the maknae insisted, trying to take hold of one of Rumi’s clawed hands which she wrenched away feverishly, holding it tight to her chest.

The women shared a trepidatious glance for a half beat before Zoey tried again, just as soft. “Rumi—“

She was too close.

“D̷̹͋Ö̵̳́N̴̢͌'̶̨͗T̷̫̏ ̵̢̂Ṭ̶͋Ŏ̸͇Ụ̴͐C̷͕̀H̷͍͝ ̶̮̋M̶̘̚E̴̹̾!” The booming voice fell past her own lips but sounded far, far from the angelic poster child for pop star royalty the world’s ear had grown accustomed too. Her voice trembled with a deep, inhuman richness, as gruff as it was piercing all the same. A sound that might warn prey to stay away for the creature that bore such a noise, because surely, something that sounded so vicious could only cause harm. A rattlesnake shaking its tail at the boot which stomps too near.

I bite

I’ll hurt you…

Stay away from me

That panicked vigor softened somewhat under Rumi’s heartbreak as she looked on at the shriveling dejection in Zoey’s eyes. That longing to comfort replaced with pain, with rejection. Rumi couldn’t stop the whimper in her throat if she tried.

“P̵̾ͅl̷̤͘e̴̯͝a̸̼̅ș̶͌e̴̞͒…̴̹͌p̴̪͒l̴̩͗e̵͎͆ȧ̴͉s̶͇͘é̴̥ ̴̱͘ď̶͈o̷͎͂n̵̘͋’̷̗̄ẗ̵̝́ ̵̦͘t̷̪̓ŏ̵̱û̸̜ç̶͆h̴͚̾ ̷͔͗m̶̨̏e̶̠͌…” she whined. Her voice was inhuman but carried a sort of half hearted warning. An injured predator baring its fangs in attempts to distract approachers from its bleeding paw. Not angry, just pleading. Defensive.

I’m sorry

Forgive me…

I’m scared

Comfort me…

I’ll hurt you

Don’t leave me…

Keep back

Zoey turned to the eldest, panicked and unsure. Words were all she knew to comfort with, and if Rumi wouldn’t listen how else could she help? For just a moment Mira seemed to mirror that expression of pure dread and apprehension before forcefully swallowing it down and steeling herself with newfound conviction.

“Rumi, look at me,” Mira’s voice was harder now but not unkind, having the intended affect of stealing the half-demon’s attention.

It shouldn’t be this dark with her patterns burning like fire all around them…why was it so dark? Why was it so hard to see Mira’s face? Rumi whimpered again.

“Nae sarang…breathe,” the dancer’s voice was impossibly delicate; Mira did her damnest not to let her fear drip into the edges of her voice as she all but pleaded. “Breathe, you’re gonna make yourself faint” she implored. Rumi vaguely registered she was hyperventilating, but she couldn’t stop it, she only breathed harder. Faster. Shallow gulps that did nothing to fill her lungs.

“Rumi-ya, baby can you hear me?” Mira sounded far away, why was she so far? Why did she sound like she was in the other room? Why was her room ringing so much? She couldn’t hear anything above the sound of her gasping. The half-demon tried swallowing but found her mouth too dry to do so, she was gasping, wheezing for breath so hard it was airing out her tongue. A distraught sound escaped her as she curled into herself against the bed frame, shoulders hunching over curled knees as clawed, elongated hands dug into the teal cushioning so hard it began to tear.

“Rumi I need you to nod if you can hear me, aein..."

The voice was a whisper in a room of shrill whistles. She was missed on the gentle sigh of relief that seemed to leave the dancer’s throat as Rumi managed a movement of her head enough to classify as a nod.

“Good…good girl, very good,” Mira paused, taking moment to lick her lips to stop her voice from clipping. “Rumi, love, I’m going to give you something. I won’t touch you, I’m just going to set it on your lap. Is that alright?”

The words that came to her ear were hard to decipher, maybe she was able to somewhat grasp them, maybe nodding just felt right. Rumi couldn’t see. Everything was so dark. But nodding felt right.

A beat passed then a weight appeared atop her knees but the singer didn’t flinch. Didn’t scream. She blinked, eyes still unfocused but skin reacting to the softness found against it.

A familiar softness. One she knew more intimately than perhaps anything.

If she thought back hard enough she might have told you if was one of the first sensations she could ever recall. Not the soft touch of her mother’s lips against her tiny head, not even the warm skin of Celine’s hands guiding her first steps. No, the first sensation she could recall was the polyester sitting in her lap. It’s soft hide bumpy, but by design, as if inviting small hands to explore and hold it closer. Just as large, inhumanely long hands were doing now—gripping the plush on top of her slowly as if remembering. Rumi dropped both hands the death grip on the headboard to bring the toy closer gently, holding it against her chest like it was instinct. It was at this point, with how many times she’d done it before. Whenever she’d been worried, or scared, or lonely.

She’d spent so many years being so lonely.

No one understood her isolation, she had no one to confide in after all, no one to seek comfort from. Celine had in the very beginning, when she was still too small to understand words, only touch. But once she could grasp her lessons of restraint, of self control, of hiding away your fears, she was left to her own resolve to soothe herself. No person should see how raw the aching gash that loneliness is on the heart afterall.

Chingu wasn’t a person though, that’s what Rumi had always told herself, as if giving herself permission to seek his comfort. She knew he could never be a real friend; he couldn’t offer words of assurance or a touch to dry her eyes—he was just fabric to cry into, flattened stuffing to squeeze until her sad thoughts quieted enough to let her think again. But he was the closest thing she had had to friend for so many years.

And even now, as the stitching on his nose came lose, or his eyes were miscolored from being resewn with whatever button was on hand, the little bear still brought her comfort. When she closed her eyes and pressed her nose into his head her thoughts still quieted. The only confidant she’d ever had to the pain of her shame kept hidden from the world, the sole witness of her turmoil laid raw on the days she was too exhausted to keep it to herself and murmured her fears against his aged fur.

She inhaled.

He smelled like detergent…and Mira’s body spray.

Burning wet eyes blearily blinked open. The room wasn’t dark anymore. It was bright. Way too bright; the singer squinted through it before realizing slowly that it was coming from her. Her patterns her blazing, hot and volatile and jagged. She squeezed the bear tighter.

“Hey princess,” Mira dipped her head to steal her gaze, pleased and relieved when the fog over those slit, demonic eyes lifted and the singer actually looked back at the pair with recognition in her expression. “You back with us?” The visual asked gently, so gently.

Rumi’s gaze flicked back and forth between them—Mira attentive and gentle; Zoey wide eyed and anxious but trying so hard not to show it…she looked so soft. Rumi longed to touch her, console her—apologize for yelling and kiss that frown from her lips…but how had that gone with Mira?

She tore her eyes down with a scowl so scorching it could have set ablaze the sheets.

“Rumi, look at me,” Mira said again, steady. Rumi clenched her jaw, refusing.

“Please look at her, unnie?” Zoey’s voice quaked with trepidation that had the hard glare of Rumi’s eyes softening into sadness.

Zoey’s sweet voice was cheating…they all knew it. But damnit it worked…

Glowing eyes drew a reluctant glance upwards to the patient visual watching her attentively. “Rumi,” Mira began slowly, “it’s a scratch I’m fine, everything’s fine,” she placed her palm flat on the mattress, just shy of the singer’s leg. Intentional but respectful; an invitation. One Rumi accepted with a gentle bump of her knee against the dancer’s wrist.

She caught Mira’s minuscule sigh of relief that time.

Her non-refusal to touch seemed to embolden Zoey to inch closer, sitting on her ankles just out of arms length of their leader.

“It’s ok Ru-Ru,” Rumi felt Zoey’s voice more than she heard it, felt the way it wrapped around her heart like warm hands, stroking its anxious shudders. “Accidents happen sometimes, but Mira’s ok, see? Look the bleeding’s already stopped.”

Rumi glanced up quicker than she would have liked to admit, heart clenched in a confusing sort of hope. Zoey was right, Mira had already licked the crimson away from her lips. The only evidence left of anything was the slightly swollen lilt it had on the one side, but it was barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it.

“Ru, I’m ok. I promise,” Mira inched her hand slowly, oh so slowly to the cap of Rumi’s knee, rubbing tight circles over those scorching pink lines on her skin, staying designated to the little imaginary borders she made for herself, straying no further as to not cause any stress.“ Zoey’s nearly bitten my lip in half before, this is nothing,” she dismissed easily.

“Heh, guilty…” Zoey said softly, shifting just that much closer to her anxious lover. She laid a flat hand over the wide part of Rumi thigh, relieved beyond words when the half-demon only twitched but didn’t try to recoil away from her touch. “We love you Rumi, so much. You’ve done nothing wrong—

“B̴͕̍u̴͚̐l̶͚͐l̴͙̈́s̷̭͝ẖ̵̍i̴͍̍t̵̨̚ , ” Rumi growled, low and gutteral. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was her rare moment of swearing that made them flinch. Either way she hated herself for it. Sulking further into herself and the toy still in her arms. She swallowed, “I hurt you Mira,” she spat acidily, the words begging bile to rise in her throat. “I don’t care how superficial it is. I hurt you because I…I couldn’t control myself—couldn’t control this—T̰͗̏h̅i͈̻͌s̶ fͮuc̮̊̒k̪͂i͒n̖gͬ t̸̞ͦh͎͝i̟̖͐n͟ġ̟̦ in͍͒s̵̞͘i̩͈̋dͯe͌͊ ȏ̧̦f͊̇̕ mȅ!” She snarled, lips curling over her lengthened fangs before they dropped, quivering. Her head sank into the brown polyester plush as silent, angry tears slipped from her eyes.

Mira and Zoey exchanged a hard look, as if debating something before reaching a unanimous agreement.

Rumi’s pointed ear flicked towards the sound of Mira’s irate huff of a sigh.“You wanna know something, Rumi?” She leaned in close to her now, her tone impatient and coarse. A bitter sort of satisfaction riled in Rumi’s chest. About time these two admit how dangerous she was, how unsettling she was, how vile, how unlovabl—

“Feeling your teeth sink into my skin like you owned it, like it was yours to mark and brand as your own—”  the dancer’s voice was low and dangerous, like the rumbling engine of muscle car purring to life before ripping off the pavement in the dead silence of night, “I thought I was gonna come right then and there…”

Rumi whipped her head up so quickly she nearly pulled something in her neck as her eyes practically popped out of her skull. “W-what!?” She blanched. She stared at her incredulously, before glancing to Zoey as if hoping to find some kind of reflection of her own stupefied expression…but she only saw the maknae tugging a lip between her teeth and staring, staring hard, at the half-demon’s mouth. At the fangs beginning to poke out of her lips. The sabers that still had blood on them but seemed less like repellent to the other two women and more like an appetizer.

“It was hot, Rumi,” Mira reiterated patiently but cuttingly, like it was an elementarily simple concept the singer could grasp, but was refusing to out of stubborn pride. She leaned in close, their noses almost brushing. She leaned in even as Rumi leaned away; leaning away until the crown of her head kissed the headboard, and still Mira kept going until their foreheads touched and her glowing amber eyes were consumed with nothing but that sight of the dancer’s piercing, determined chestnut gazed. “I liked it,” she whispered just loud enough to barely be heard on Rumi’s impossibly perceptive ears.

The singer quivered beneath her.

“You just did very much the opposite of a bad thing, you beautifully oblivious idiot!” Zoey declared, snaking her arms around the half-demon’s shoulders to nuzzle against her cheek, Mira finally pulling back to let her.

Their words sunk into her slowly. They liked it, they enjoyed it. Just like she could feel her demon enjoying licking its lips in satisfaction at the blood on its tongue.

Rumi hardened her jaw as much as she could before the daggers in her mouth began to ache against her skin. She was torn, the hunter tugging at the leash and the demon scratching at the hands which held it back. She whined, a pitiful, strained sound in her throat.

Zoey tightened her grip around her, as Mira settled on their leader’s opposite side to do the same. A sob bubbled from Rumi’s throat as she was torn between wanting to return the gesture and being horrified of hurting either of them again. Her arms hung limply at her sides as she cried. She cried until she felt dizzy.

Zoey pulled back to wipe the release from her eyes before planting her lips on both eyelids as if to restrict them from shedding any more tears. Mira combed a hand through hair but oddly only kept to the back of her head, never brushing the front. Rumi was puzzled for a moment before deducing that could only mean her horns had probably returned. Her face scrunched as wetness begged to be released from her eyes but she had none left to give. A sad sound echoed from behind closed lips.

They were ignoring it again. She looked like a monster and they were straight up refusing to acknowledge it. It was driving her mad. Why couldn’t they just point at the elephant in the room and get it over with already? Admit how ghastly her appearance was. Gawk at it. Retch. Scream. Ridicule. Admit how vile it was for them to make love to an animal—

“Stop that,” Mira’s tone wasn’t quite a snap but it carried that same amount of sharpness that stopped the girl’s mental spiraling which was evident on her face like a window being slammed shut to silence a blistering storm outside. “Stay here,” the danced urged, softer, “stay with us. Please.”

“Stay, naekkeo, we want you here,” Zoey cooed, gently taking Chingu from her lap and lovingly placing a kiss on his wet head before returning him to his perch atop the headboard, facing the wall. She wasn’t missed on the sad little sound which escaped the half-demon’s throat at the loss but the maknae was more than eager to fill it herself. She held her hands up slowly, like an invitation, watching Rumi fiercely. The rapper wasn’t as good at reading her as Mira, but she took the lack of resistance when she grabbed Rumi’s wrists as a good sign. Her heart broke a little seeing those slitted eyes flicker with anxiety as Zoey brought those hands closer to her own skin. How she stiffened when her clawed palms found purchase on round, freckled cheeks. How the half-demon’s breath stilled in her chest. “You’re ok. This is ok,” the lyricist insisted firmly.

Rumi let out a quiet sound, she couldn’t swallow down past the lump in her throat. Her stomach grew sour at the sight as such horrific, elongated hands stroking down Zoey, sweet Zoey’s, supple pink skin. It felt perverted. She shut her eyes tightly, sniffling softly, wishing she could hide. She didn’t want them to see her. She wanted to be perfect for them. This very much wasn’t that.

She wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere she could be safe, but no matter how hard she willed herself to leave, to vanish into smoke and be anywhere but here…the half-demon couldn’t get anything to happen. As if her instincts knew she was already in the safest place she could be…in the haven of her own room, sandwiched between her two favorite people…and was just waiting for her brain to catch up to that realization.

“We love every part of you, ampeom,” Mira urged gently in her ear stroking lazy hands over burning pink patterns, coaxing them to cool beneath her touch. “You’re our pretty girl~”

“Our pretty Rumi,” Zoey sang, soft thumbs stroking over dark violet knuckles. “Half-demon, all hottie~”

A broken, wet chuckle slipped past Rumi’s lips before she could help it, surprising herself. She blinked her wet eyes open to look at her girls, waiting for her to settle with an ardent patience the singer could have wrapped herself in like a blanket. There was no pressure behind it, only softness. Only love. Acceptance.

“I’m scared…” Rumi admitted honestly, with a vulnerability so bare she wanted to shrink away from herself. Hide from this beast inside of her begging to come out.

“There’s no need to be,” Zoey said. She guided Rumi’s hands down her jaw and across her throat. Mira stroked a reassuring hand over the singer’s back when she heard the girl’s breath hitch in fear as her sharp claws were dragged down the maknae’s pulse—over the paper-thin barrier separating piercing claws from warm blood. She closed her eyes again. “You aren’t dangerous, Rumi,” Zoey promised, a weird one to make some part of the singer acknowledged given how she very much had just proved that false.

“You’re never going to do anything we don’t want,”  Mira whispered, as if her words sought to settle the quivering pink lip beside her.

“I-I wasn’t thinking…I didn’t realize I could…t-that I might…I didn’t know they were sharp enough to—,” the half-demon’s throat closed, unable to stomach the rest of her words as a knot of disdain pooled in her gut…before Zoey was a fit of giggles.

“Silly Rumi~” the maknae laughed jovially, like Rumi just spilled a cup of boba on her new shirt and didn’t just rip into her lover’s flesh with her goddamn mouth.

“Silly Rumi~” Mira hummed with the same smile she used whenever the singer was fussing to get her braid to behave before camera check.

Rumi gaped at them, fear and self resentment washing away by their amicable patronization as she flushed indignantly. “Hey!” she whined, pouting as the hot pink of her arms oozed into an offended gold. “This is serious!”

“Yeah, it’s seriously sick as fuck,” Mira said.

“Yeah,” Zoey hummed, “I was worried I wasn’t gonna have any handlebars to hold onto when you ate me out,” she released the hold on the singer’s wrist to flit her fingertips over the ridges of Rumi’s horns.

“JESUS ZOEY!” Rumi’s eyes boggled as she shoved a pillow in the maknae’s face grinning face, the blush on her cheeks so scorching it made her dizzy. Her laughter vibrated against the cushion beneath her hand. If the singer had a spray bottle of ice water to spritz her with she’d use it right now.

Mira chuckled behind them, before shifting upright. “Rumi, come here,” she beckoned, holding her hand out. Waiting.

Rumi eyed it warily, but eyed the dancer’s patiently warm gaze more so. Instead of taking it she held out her wrist, still reluctant to touch her lovers lest she do something regretful. Mira accepted it all the same, and began tugging her forward. Rumi obeyed curiously, her suspicions only growing as Mira led her off the bed entirely.

“Where are we going?” she asked, voice small and unsure.

“You need to see yourself the way we do—”

The half-demon sucked in a harsh breath, her heels digging into the carpet as she realized they were walking towards the full body mirror against the wall. “N-no please!” Rumi shook her head, gasping. “Please I don’t want to!” she begged, her head swam at the fresh memory of how she’d broken down the last time she’d seen her demonic appearance reflected back at her earlier that night. She wasn’t ready to handle that again. To deal with the sight of herself. In front of her friends no less.

“Ru…” Mira coaxed gently, tender and patient but refusing to back down as her free hand draped over their leader’s shoulder. “You’re ok, baby”

“We’ve got you,” Zoey appeared at her other side, eager arms finding her waist. Rumi realized she couldn’t back up if she wanted to now. “Can we show you what a pretty girl you are?” the lyricist asked sweetly, with those shiny brown eyes that were so hard to argue with. So Rumi didn’t, she said nothing at all as her gaze fell to the floor and she let her legs be told where to go by the other two women.

They stopped at the edge of the mirror, Rumi had her eyes glued to the hardwood panels beneath like her life depended on it. Jaw clenched tight as her elongated teeth poked at her lips as if trying to break free.

“Look,” Mira uttered quietly. Not a request, not a demand, just a word.

Rumi held still.

“Please, jagiya?” Zoey cooed. Not tempting nor coaxing, only a gentle ask.

The singer only shook her head.

“Why not?” Zoey asked, not impatient, just trying to understand. Trying to make their leader voice the thoughts rattling in her brain instead of stubbornly keeping them to herself where they could sharpen and pierce.

Rumi’s brow lowered over her eyes, sharp teething worrying the bottom lip between them. The silence which clung to the air wasn’t burdened with impatience but tenderness. Room to take the first step.

“So I can pretend everything’s fine…” the half-demon whispered just loud enough to be heard, as if afraid to speak too loudly. She was trembling between them.

“Everything is fine,” Mira argued. “Rumi, you’re not a monster. You’re not dangerous,” her grip on her patterned shoulder squeezed, firm and grounding, as if to say please, please believe me.  “You’re good, aein. You’re so good”

“-And sweet,” Zoey chimed.

“And kind~”

“-Always looking out for us, always carrying our worries.”

“Well now it’s our turn”

“-Stop trying to be perfect and just be yourself”

Silence befell the room again… before a tiny, afraid voice—

“What if I don’t know who that is…” Rumi whispered. She spent so much time hiding who…what…she really was, masquerading every day as an ideal version of herself that when she took the time to stop and actually think about, she realized didn’t know who the person under the mask was. Who this person occupying her skin was. And now that the idol was free, she had nothing but time to think, and the only answers that she found beneath the perfect, perfect mask were jagged and confusing and foggy and frightening. She was a stranger to herself she realized, perhaps she always had been…

“Then we’ll help you find her, together.”

Slender fingers found the corner of her chin, guiding it up. Rumi didn’t fight them, but she did flinch at the sight that met her eyes…

Skin paled in sickly lavender across her body, darkening down her limbs as her patterns throbbed in disparaging amethyst and fuscia. Her horns had returned as she’d expected, though mercifully it was just the two now where they erupted above burning golden eyes.

The half-demon didn’t know what was more sick, the sight of herself or the sight of her beautiful girls wrapped around her like it was nothing. Like she didn’t look like the very thing they’d been trained for the majority of their lives to kill on reflex. Was this hard for them? Was her simple presence clawing at their instincts to attack. To clean the blight that dare plague their sight—

“Shhh,” Mira hushed her gently, “it’s ok. This is safe. We’re safe with you, you’re safe with yourself.” Rumi hadn’t realized she’d been trying to recoil out of their grip as her thoughts raged.

Zoey stroked a small hand over her patterned belly, fingers playing out as if trying not to let a single pattern be ignored. She stole a kiss to her shoulder as the maknae brought a clawed hand up to comb into her tousled raven hair. Rumi’s stomach quivered as her sharp nails grazed against her scalp. She held her breath as if waiting to see if a warm liquid made itself known against her skin, but it didn’t. Only soft black hair parting itself for her hand.

Then there was Mira, turning her head to kiss the spot of her forehead where her smooth skin erupted into the hard, angry cartilage of her horns. She had the arm not draped over the singer’s shoulder wrapped around Rumi’s chest above Zoey’s hand as if to further ground their girl in place, in this moment of her lovers adoring her body.

Rumi felt like such a delicate thing, watching her bandmates worship the figure staring back at her through the glass. The figure that had stared back at her all her life— through every bout of sadness, every episode of panic as distressed brown eyes watched the patterns on its skin grow further and further each day; staring hard as if willing them to sully no more of her flesh. But now, here her girls were draping their lips across them, Zoey ghosting her fingers over the pointed tip of her ears, Mira stroking over her open palm until her perfect fingers entwined with clawed ones.

There was no hesitation in either of their movements, if anything, it seemed like they were holding back, forcing themselves to go slower than they clearly wanted to.

“You’re perfect,” Zoey’s gentle voice had goosebumps raising over her pale skin.

“—You’re beautiful,” Mira’s sent a warm shiver down her spine.

“You’re ours~”

Something bobbed in Rumi’s throat, sitting there as her patterns soaked in a confusing blend of gold, blue and lavender.

Mira pulled back to turn towards the mirror, to look into demonic eyes. Her eyes. The eyes of the woman Mira loved.

“Who do you belong to Rumi?” she asked evenly.

“You…you guys,” the half-demon breathed, gazing right back at her in the glass.

“And who do we belong to?” Zoey hummed against her neck, stealing a glance of those amber eyes towards herself in the mirror.

“…M-me?” Rumi squeaked.

“Facts,” Mira kissed her cheek deeply and approvingly, Zoey matched her fervor on the opposite side of Rumi’s face. Rumi just watched them in their reflection transfixed. They turned back in tandem to stare back at her in the glass, hunger darkening their eyes. “Don’t you want to take us Rumi?” the dancer goaded, her chin resting on a patterned shoulder like an appetizer on a porcelain dish.

The singer flushed, a timidness washing over her limbs…but not her heart. That boiled in her chest with a possessive satisfaction, a delighted call to action which frightened her. It was that same sense of pleasure her demon preened at when it had tasted her lover’s blood on its tongue. Rumi shuddered.

Behave…

Get back in your cage…

“You guys don’t know what you’re asking,” Rumi warned, brows low and hard over her eyes as she pulled back to look into their actual faces, not the mirror.

“Oh I’m pretty sure we do~” Zoey smirked. “We can handle so much more than you think, babygirl—“ little teeth found the unsuspecting flesh of a pointed pale ear and Rumi cried out. Patterns flared a dangerous amber, almost slipping into a molten orange as pupils thinned into predatory lines shooting a sideways, almost hungrily indignant glance at the shorter girl who wore a shit eating grin.

Rumi had half a mind to pounce, to pin Zoey to the floor and watch that little smile shrink into an ‘oh’ as she pulled sweet sounds from the maknae’s lips, pulled her own name from that cocky mouth until it was the only thing the girl could say, as Zoey begged her leader to—

The hunter closed her eyes, a whine sounding from the tight line of her closed lips as her human anxieties raged war with the carnal hunger of her demon.

“Ru?” Mira uttered, a hand rubbing between her shoulder blades.

“Sorry…” the girl breathed, “my demon won’t shut up,” Rumi pulled her hands away from both of them to rub disparagingly across her temples, as if she could silence her own inner turmoil. “It hasn’t stopped since we…since I tried to…with you guys I mean…” she floundered, biting her lips as her face grew scarlet.

The pair were silent for a moment before Zoey spoke.

“Why not let it come out to play?” she chirped, breath hot on Rumi’s neck as she rolled her chin over her shoulder. The singer gaped at her wildly.

“Could be interesting~” Mira seconded, with a wry deliciousness.

The half-demon’s jaw was slack as she flicked her gaze between them. “Are you actually serio—“ She stopped herself with an embarrassed groan. Of course they were. That had absolutely been established already.

'Interesting' would definitely be one way to describe it, Rumi thought, though admittedly…she didn’t fully know what would even happen. It had never been something even partially acknowledged, never explored, never humored. Celine had always shut down any curiosities about her other side little Rumi could have asked, always insisting the girl wasn’t a true demon—as though half her lineage was just a side effect of her birth; a temporary disability that could be cured. Why dwell on hypotheticals that would never get the chance to fruition? It was only inviting stress. There had never been an opportunity before for Rumi to even acknowledge her demon, much less give it room to stretch…how could she possible predict what could happen if it was set free?

“What if I can’t control it?” she whispered, like if she was quiet enough the beast beneath her skin wouldn’t hear her. Wouldn’t crack its joints in anticipation. “What if I hurt you again?”

Zoey quirked her head. “Does your demon want to hurt us?” she asked simply enough.

Rumi halted, lips parting before she realized she didn’t have an immediate response to regurgitate. It was never a question she had actually stopped to consider.  She blinked down at the maknae in light awe—of course Zoey was always the one to ask the most obvious yet rarely acknowledged curiosities.

She searched herself for a moment; searched that dark void within her chest, that clawing form beneath her flesh with the impatient, frothing maw. Hungry but not gluttonous. Possessive, but not vindictive. “N-no…” she reasoned after a moment, expression soft and pensive,“actually…I think it’s more protective of you guys than I am,” Rumi admitted.

She searched deeper, past the carnal rumblings of desire and entitlement, to the source of that burning demand for possession…and found the small spark that started it: a tiny spark of loyal heedfulness, so fond it might as well have had Zoey and Mira’s names carved onto it like they already owned that part of her. It was a drive—she realized—that didn’t want to take, it wanted to guard. To protect. To keep her girls safe and never let another soul come near them again so long as it could be helped.

Rumi started for a moment, in awe to find something she could actually agree upon with that jagged side of herself. Granted, that flint of admiration flamed into something far hotter than what her own human capabilities left her with. A starving almost itching desire in her brain that wanted to absolutely ravish these two women beside her in every sense of the word. Leave them aching with the memory of her touch, writhing under her searching tongue, crying her name on their lips like it was the only word they had been designed to form…and dear god the images it was conjuring up was enough to make Rumi blush.

Her patterns flickered in a confused mess of purple and amber.

The reaction was not missed on the other two hunters.

“Does it want to do…other things to us?” Zoey hummed with a cheeky knowingness; that wicked smirk soon finding her lips again.

Rumi’s lack of answer was her answer. She avoided eye contact.

The rapper chuckled impishly, “damn didn’t realize your demon was getting cucked this whole time,” she snickered.

Mira barked a mirthful laugh. “No wonder it’s been so loud, it just wants a turn, poor thing,” she cooed affectionately.

“Don’t encourage it—“ Rumi whined, cheeks hot.

“Why not?” Mira shot right back. “You said it yourself, it doesn’t want to hurt us. You don’t want to hurt us.. and so you won’t. I know you won’t,” she stroked a thumb over her cheekbone, following an invisible line down to the point of her ear. “You’re our leader, you always take such good care of us don’t you?”

“—What’s stopping you this time, tigress?” Zoey whispered dangerously. “What’s stopping you from putting us under your command?”

The half-demon’s pupils slitted dangerously. It was all the maknae could do to not vibrate in excitement at that ravenous expression trying to claw its way out of the half-demon’s gaze. If Zoey’s words were the lure dangling in front of salivating lips, then Mira’s were the prey sprinting into the heather begging to be given chase—

“Stop acting like the perfect princess and be the feral little thing that wants to take us for yourself~” she hissed.

A groan escaped Rumi’s lips that sounded dangerously close to a growl. Mira swallowed thickly as Zoey fought—and failed—to suppress a shudder.

Hook, line and—

“Bed…” Rumi gasped, like it was taking everything in her power to speak a coherently intelligible command. “P̴̬͑ļ̵̏è̴͉ȁ̵͔s̶͖̉e̶̫͌…̴̤̇” she clenched clawed fist as if fighting every neuron firing off in her brain begging her to just slam one of them to the ground right then and there.

“Fuck yes!” Zoey quiet literally ran to the bed.

The flash of movement that whirled in the corner of a Rumi’s eye, that desperate speed which—excited yes—might also suggest fear, or weakness… as though the being’s instinct to run instead of challenge her screamed ‘prey’ in red hot neon letters to Rumi’s demonic psyche, had her barreling after their youngest before she’d even consciously registered the command to her muscles.

Zoey turned her chin just in time to see that crazed, ravenous look in those glowing eyes. She lett out a shrill half scream half laugh, delightedly terrified as she let herself be tackled onto the mattress, large hands holding her down to the fabric with intention. The rapper laughed breathlessly, eyes twinkling up at her with expectant want. That soft look made Rumi come-to for a second, that animalistic instinct backing off as she chased it away to focus on the moment…but oh how adamant that side of her was now that it had had a glimmer of freedom. How hard it roared and scratched for more, hungry and craving and aggressive. Every fiber in her body begged her to give in, it prickled her skin and buzzed in her mind.

Let me have this, it seemed to say.

I want this.

Give.

“Hey,” Zooey cooed from below, seeing that line of stress dent the singer’s pretty chocolate eyes as she cupped a hand over her patterned cheek.“You won’t do anything bad to me, Rumi”

“Shouldn’t I be the one making that promise?” the pop princess asked quietly, still afraid to speak too loudly, alert the beast of her hiding place.

Zoey giggled, that laced, suggestive little sound she made when she was planning something wicked, “I think it’d be better if you did this instead—“ She guided those clawed hands to fondle her small breasts. Rumi shivered as she felt the taught mounds of muscle in her grasp. Her eyes glanced to the maknae’s parted lips as they let out a sigh and down to the soft flesh beneath her fingers. She could feel the girl’s her heartbeat through her skin, every shudder of breath in her lungs, the blood coursing through her veins and erecting her nipples. Touch had never been this sensitive before, this mouth watering, this inhumanly perceptive. Something eager stirred inside of her, like a growling stomach. Something that wanted a taste, but the hunter was too frozen in awe.

Rumi’s slitted pupils dilated into near circles and her jaw slacked ever so slightly, fear leaving her mind as that familiar sensation of possessive admiration washed over her with the maknae’s round breasts in her grip.

“I know right?” Mira drawled with a smug chuckle, crawling up onto the bed to rest beside them lazily.

Their lyricist bit her lip to silence the squeal in her throat at the sight of the half-demon’s fangs sitting behind her lips as they hung open. She wondered how they’d feel against her skin. She was about to find out wasn’t she? Zoey’s attempts to keep her excitement on the down-low as to not frighten the singer away were in vain once a soft rumbling echoed out of Rumi’s chest. Then all composure was off the table.

“EEEEEE!” The rapper squealed.

Rumi startled, eyes contracting again as she lifted her hands away tentatively, concerned pink flushing over her patterns.

“No-no-no!” Zoey all but gasped, sitting up to grab Rumi’s hands like the thought of them leaving her body was insulting, returning those dark purple palms to her breasts. “That’s a happy sound! You’re doing amazing sweetie!” she clarified with a splitting smile.

Rumi looked to Mira, still confused.

“You were purring again,” she explained easily.

“Oh…” Rumi mumbled shyly, patterns flickering with gold.

“No, it’s ok, I like it! Really! Please don’t stop Rumi?” Zoey flashed the half-demon her best puppy dog eyes.

Mira chuckled, nudging the eldest’s shoulder with a snicker, “are you really gonna break her heart Rumi-ya?” she goaded, “look at her.” Zoey whimpered too loud to be genuine for effect.

“Uh…” Rumi faltered, guilt slipping into her features all of a sudden. “I…I can’t really control it…” she confessed, eyes falling away from their faces, purple rippling over her stripes briefly like a breeze rustling leaves. “I-I’m sorry—“

her wet apology was interrupted by a soft kiss to her nose that pulled her gaze back to the youngest hunter with a start.

“Hey, don’t stress about it,” the maknae assured quickly with an unbothered shrug, “it’ll be like a little surprise when it does happen!” she offered, trying her hardest to let her support shine through more than how much it kept Zoey up at night wondering just how much of Rumi’s demon characteristics they had yet to discover.

“Like Zoey said…we just gotta find the right buttons~” Mira purred, placing her hands over Rumi’s to encourage a deeper touch against the rapper’s breasts.

Both leader and maknae’s breaths faltered at the deepened touch. Zoey’s warm eyes fluttered, face reddening though perhaps not as brightly as Rumi who quickly grew transfixed again. She fondled her boobs gently, unsure of what she was really doing but letting Zoey’s wanton song of approval guide her actions, all the while growing redder and redder.

“I think you’re more hot and bothered than Zoey is” Mira joked, listening as Rumi’s breath ran more ragged than the girl she was groping. Rumi tried to laugh along with her but it came out choked and unsure.

“You’re doing great Ru,” Zoey cooed encouraginly, a soft hand crawling up the back of her head to curl into her scalp. “You’re making me feel so good baby”

Mira almost clutched her chest and whimpered at the way Rumi’s eyes lit up with pure happiness at those words.

“Yeah?” The singer asked tentatively. She heard her perfectly the first time…she just wanted to hear Zoey say it again. Sue her.

“Yeah!” Zoey confirmed, leaning up to give her a deep kiss. “So damn good tigress.”

Experimentally, she pinched twin nipples carefully between the pads of her fingers, mindful of her claws as she rolled them tenderly. She drank in the moan from Zoey’s lips and the flutter of her eyes like sweet nectar.

“Why don’t you give them a taste, Ru?” Mira brushed against her ear to whisper dangerously. A fuzzy warmth blossomed in the half-demon’s skull at the invitation, only heightened by the maknae’s eager whine.

“P-please,”  the rapper insisted, “I want to feel your tongue on my skin, please,” she pleaded. Rumi flushed, her breath stolen away for a moment before she sunk down tentatively sticking out a tongue over one of those hardened buds. She moaned softly as the taste of salt met her, the lyricist already coated in a light layer of sweat from the anticipation alone it seemed. Zoey jolted slightly feeling those sharp little teeth graze against her tits as Rumi began to suckle gingerly, a giddy little giggle on her lips. It blended into a delighted, squealed gasp before melting into a broken chuckle. “Oh-oh shit…”

“Is that ok?” Rumi pulled back to ask expectantly, wide eyes searching..

“That…”  Zoey sighed, she swallowed as if to force more words from her throat. “That’s fucking amazing—”

Rumi buzzed from the praise. Her companions could feel her stiff muscles relax in real time. She shifted down to give the other breast the same love with more urgency.

Mira hummed watching the loves her life take care of each other, eyeing those pointed pearly whites as they brushed pebbled pink skin resting over that increasingly reddening chest. She smirked knowingly as she leaned in once more to Rumi’s ear, whispering deliciously, just loud enough to intentionally be heard by the maknae.

“Why don’t you bite her?” She offered devilishly.

Both her girls stilled at the suggestion, though the slow spread of dizzying excitement and dizzying trepidation through either of them respectively was so contrasted it was almost humorous.

“What?!” Rumi gasped as gold assaulted the room.

“She makes these adorable little moans when you do~” Mira hummed teasingly, enticingly, both her girls blushed. “And they’ll all be for you, Rumi~”

The dancer’s words ignited that little spark of feral possession again like an extra log of wood onto an unsure fire. Ragged breath stammered out of the half-demon’s throat, the thought alone already working her up.

“Oh please, fuck, bite me Rumi!” Zoey begged, such a pretty sound. “Please unnie?” Yes, a pretty sound indeed. The half-demon wanted to hear more.

Rumi reached up tentatively to palm at the left side of the maknae’s throat with the flat of her hand, forcing that raging, feral thing under her skin begging to just take already to slow down, to be careful, to not hurt. It complied without further convincing.

She could feel Zoey’s pulse pounding under her thumb, the thing only increasing as she leaned in closer, slowly. The youngest’s eyes were wide with anticipation and soft with pure trust. Rumi’s heart swooned at the tenderness, her demon preened at the submission. Carefully she parted her lips to drag her fangs across the soft skin of an even softer neck, feeling the full body shiver beneath that only encouraged her to go further. Experimentally, she closed her mouth around where Zoey’s shoulder met her neck, applying a small bit of pressure. Not biting, just holding, tasting her sweet girl between her jaws. A rumbling groan of satisfaction left her chest.

Zoey sighed shakily against her. Rumi could literally feel that breath rattle her teeth. The sensation zapped into Rumi’s brain, like some kind of primodrial instinct awoke at the feel of rushing blood beneath that thin layer of protection which kept her teeth from her girl. The singer nipped gently with the corner of her mouth, just enough to pinch the skin and maybe leave a dark spot or two in the morning. Zoey gasped and shuddered. Rumi left a mark hard enough to leave an impression felt through the night but not to pierce. Not to taint the artistry that was her maknae’s skin.

The singer pulled back to admire her handiwork, a wobbly circle of little marks left in skin. Her girl’s skin. Like a fingerprint. A signature. Something satisfying coiled inside of her at the sight of what she’d done. Marking Zoey, as hers and hers alone. She dragged her lip up her neck and to the shell of her ear grabbing it gently but firmly between her fangs, nipping and licking.

“Oh oh oh my god, oh fuck oh fuck, Mira help!” Zoey trembled like a wet cat left in the cold rain under the singer’s ministrations. She looked to the smirking pink-haired girl off to the side with wide eyes, but the dancer only offered a darkly mirthful chuckle in aid.

“Ha, sorry dongsaeng, you’re on your own~” Mira said smugly leaning back against the headboard with arms crossed over her chest, very much enjoying the show. “Don’t forget her other side Rumi~” she purred helpfully. The offer was digested less as coherent words but more as a feeling, an instinct to move, to the half-demon’s hazy senses.

“Oh fuck you—AH!” Zoey cried as the half demon held the delicate skin beneath the other side her jaw between her teeth.

Mira chuckled proudly. “Good demon,” she hummed, stroking the tip of her nails down Rumi’s spine, feeling how it shuddered beneath her touch, a satisfied growl rumbling from her chest.

Something aching and persistent pulsed through Rumi’s veins which she didn’t recognize, rolling over her senses like a fog, encouraged by the soft little whines she drew from of the maknae’s throat between her teeth. A craving, a desire to own igniting the nerve endings in her brain. Like every instinct in her body was telling her this was right. This is where she needed to be. Where Zoey needed to be. Squirming under her touch. Being marked by her, being claimed her. A satisfaction coiled in her chest and was released in the form of a gentle purr. Rumi felt the pride rippling through her demon at the little broken chuckle Zoey made at that rumbling noise echoing in her throat. Rumi combated its urge to sink her fangs deeper into the lyricist’s skin in favor of peppering sweet kisses over freckled shoulders instead.

It felt so right. Zoey wasn’t like Mira, she didn’t challenge her, she gave in eagerly; Rumi’s demon slotted right in comfortably to claim her, and the maknae welcomed the control, let herself be shaped by it. It was correct. It was good. It was happy. Zoey was happy, laughing between stolen breaths, and the sound seemed to make Rumi’s demon preen. Because yes, this is where the maknae belonged, under her. And happy to be under her. Rumi purred louder into her lover’s neck, contented, before dragging her cheek up Zoey’s skin from the crux of her shoulder, up the side of her throat and over her chin, rubbing against the rapper’s face from jaw to temple. Something inside of her told her to, demanded that her scent be on her lover. To be attached to her, to own her. A warning to anyone stupid enough to come near of what belonged to her. This is mine...stay away.

Mira’s eyes blew wide; Zoey whined. Rumi’s inhibitions left the chat like her soul had been possessed. Or more like a dormant demonic instinct had finally woken up, roused from sleep by the scent of sex, by the invitation to mark her territory. And for once, it was welcome to enter instead of restrained to linger in the doorway like an unwelcome guest.

A pleased growl, rumbled behind her lips, gently. Zoey’s breath hitched moving her hands unconsciously to touch the singer’s neck, to feel the vibration under her fingers with a breathy laugh. Rumi’s demon seemed to like that, the soft growl mellowing happily into a contented purr once again. Happy to be acknowledged by the girl she was claiming. It only rumbled louder with every giddy squeak of joy and lustful sigh of desire escaping the lyricist as she nipped and licked over her shoulders. Rumi grabbed her tiny wrists to press her soft palms against patterned cheeks, nuzzling into their warmth, blistering golden eyes closing tenderly. Zoey could have cried at just how cute the display looked.

Mira laughed under her breath off to the side of the pair, “I like this side of our ampeom,” she hummed with endearing approval.

“She’s like a little cat,” the rapper fawned, thumbs rubbing over the ticklish patterns on Rumi’s face. The singer blinked down at her lover then, something unreadable dancing in her slitted eyes. With those wrists still in her hands she thrust them gently above Zoey’s head, pinning them to the mattress with a demanding but merciful intention..

“H̵͇̒a̴̰͝n̸̥̈́d̷̬̉s̷̟̈ ̵͇̈u̷͓̿p̵̝͘,̸͔͛ ̷̡̈́p̸̨̉l̷̉͜e̶̖̓a̷̤͑ṡ̷̤ẹ̵́” her voice was raspy with want, and perhaps something a bit inhuman that she might come to regret later; but that little ‘please’ was so undeniably Rumi, for lack of a better term, that her girlfriends will use it to reassure her when her eyes will begin tearing up at the thought of loosing control around them. Because even when she was literally going feral with lust for her bandmates, she still found it in herself to be polite and poised.

Mira and Zoey could have exploded.

Without any distractions, Rumi got back to work nibbling at Zoey’s jaw. Gnawing and sucking what would surely be a lasting mark and a PR headache to get around later, but no one cared in that moment. Her fingers had elongated enough to allow one hand to pin the rapper’s wrist—of course them being so small helped too. Her free hand now dragged down Zoey’s ribcage, taking its ample time to appreciate. To adore. She pressed down lightly, not enough to hurt, just to leave faint little white marks in her claws’ trail that would darken into red soon enough, but only be superficial enough to itch.

Rumi lingered at a particular spot around Zoey’s side rousing a shiver. Mira snickered, “fast learner,” she commended, lying down lazily by the side of both her girls, watching. “Hold still for you unnie, maknae,” she cooed smugly at the trembling girl, eating up the pathetic little whine that left her lips as Zoey tried to stay still against the clawed fingers raking down a signature of their presence across her body. Her efforts to obey didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thank you, Zoey-a,” Rumi praised with a purr between her words, lips pressing a kiss between the valley of her small breasts.

Zoey’s breath hitched, legs squeezing together, whether from the praise, the claws drawing patterns of her own across her skin, or her Rumi’s growing sense of confidence she couldn’t say.

“God, look at our girl, Ru” Mira uttered with nothing but awe in her tone.  “She makes such a pretty chew toy~”

The lyricist squirmed at Mira’s words; Rumi chuckled at the shy display.

“How about you give her a proper bite, jagiya?” she goaded, leaning closer to the half-demon devouring their third like a last meal. “I can tell you’re holding back. Why don’t you taste her like you tasted me?” She hissed hungrily.

“Oh fuck me, fucking hell!” Zoey all but moaned with eagerness at the suggestion but Rumi didn’t have time to snicker at the rapper’s lack of composure or dignity. She was too busy feeling her skin prickle with dread.

Rumi stalled. Lifting up from Zoey’s body for the first time since she’d started.

“I-I could hurt her,” she whimpered, slit pupils blowing into wide, fearful circles in hesitation.

“I-it’s ok,” Zoey collected herself enough to speak clearly, swallowing against the light shivers raking over her form. “I want you to! Some pain makes pleasure so much better,” she grinned with a sultry wink.

“I…” Rumi looked down at her pretty girl, her sweet supple Zoey—shimmering with sweat and gentle bite marks, dark enough to own her but not dark enough to ruin her skin with inky crimson. A sight she knew too well—

No matter how many years would past, the half-demon could always remember so clearly the nights as a child she spent sneaking out of her room past bedtime to sit on top of the stairs. Sit there and watch downstairs through the banister that couldn’t even reach her head yet as Celine sat below and patched herself up from her nightly hunts when she thought her ward was fast asleep. The sight of teethmarks on her aunt’s flesh impressed themselves into her memory just as deeply they had on the woman’s skin. Jagged puncture wounds, rounded and angry where they sat against a pool of scarlet ruin.

‘You aren’t a demon,’ Celine would always say, ‘you’ll never grow teeth sharp enough to do that, you could never cause harm like that,’ but little Rumi would still dread each time she lost a tooth, dread the wait for a new one to grow, dread the possibility of a permanent fang taking its place to snap and bite and puncture. The possibility that she might one day too, have a bite that could leave such horrible wounds like the ones on the arms of the only family she had—

And now, even so many year later, the thought she may actually replicate such awful wounds made her stomach churn. “I-I don’t want to…” the half-demon admitted lamely, her head bowing into her hunched shoulders.

She sat there tense, blind to the delicate, something, shifting over her companions faces as they glanced to each other, then back to her with something gentle and understanding in their eyes.

“That’s alright,” Zoey said immediately, bring Rumi’s attention back to them with a soft palm to her patterned cheek.

“That’s your boundary,” Mira seconded, a hand finding her stiff shoulder, “we won’t make you cross it if you don’t feel safe.”

Rumi’s grateful eyes flickered between them, love and relief blooming in her chest like a bouquet in spring. “Thank you,” she sighed, not realizing how tight her lungs had become.

“How about I guide you?” Mira offered smoothly and quickly, “you bite down and I’ll tell you when to stop. I’ll make sure you won’t go too far,” she said evenly. Rumi’s trust in Mira married so seamlessly with her demon’s desire to sink her teeth into flesh that the singer didn’t hesitate to agree “ok”

“That’s my girl~” the dancer cooed kindly, granting a kiss on the temple. She guided Rumi down to the supple flesh of Zoey’s thigh. She ghosted her fingers over a patch of smooth skin.

“Bite,” she said the word like it was holy.

Rumi licked her lips gingerly, slowly sinking down before latching her fangs onto the soft, creamy flesh. She began to gently apply pressure— she could feel Zoey’s pulse underneath her lips. It was intoxicating, her heart pounded tasting her salty skin beneath her tongue, just a hint of the strawberry body wash she’d gifted the girl recently. Her demon’s blood sang at the taste, demanding more. Her jaw ached to push further—

“Stop”

Rumi unclenched immediately with an audible sound, panting against the indents left against soft flesh. They were deep, but not deep enough. Stopped just in time. Grateful lips left a kiss over them, like a promise. This is temporary, I haven’t ruined you. Though perhaps both her demon, and Zoey, would have complained otherwise.

“Oh…shit,” Zoey sighed such a heavenly sound, her head lolling back onto the mattress as the tightness of her skin tingled around the fresh indents.

Mira chuckled pleasantly, running a hand over the half-demon’s scalp. “Good girl,” she cooed. Rumi blushed, a not quite displeased color, as she locked eyes with the dancer beside her, hopeful and glad. Mira laughed softly again, leaving a kiss on the corner of her lips, “very good,” she affirmed. “Again, bite.”

Her slender hands dragged down the rapper’s legs to a new spot before Rumi sent into it. A soft keen left their youngest’s throat.

“Stop”

The half-demon caught her breath as she gazed down at her Zoey, babbling some incoherent nonsense Rumi didn’t quite catch. Her eyes looked unfocused as her lips parted prettily.

“You like that Zoey?” Mira cooed, shifting to rest beside their youngest’s head, lips brushing her ear teasingly.

Zoey whimpered out a response.

“Tell your unnie thank you” the dancer hummed patiently, a faux sweetness lacing her tone.

“Th-thank you…” she panted, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as if willing the haze to leave them before blinking down at the half-demon marking her up so prettily. “Thank you, Rumi”

The singer shuddered at that longingly soft expression in her eyes. An intoxicating blend of the tender desire to nurture, and the exhilaratingly need to dominate made something in her blood sing with joy. With a plea for more. To indulge in this primal thrill of holding so much power, so much control over something so delicate and pliant.

“Good girl, Zoey,” Mira praised with a kiss to her jaw, right over one of their leader’s bites, earning her a wonderfully delicious squirm.

“Good girl...” Rumi echoed, somewhat hesitant but resolving her nerves to speak, to dabble in dominance under their eldest’s guidance. “On your stomach, please,” she ordered. It also didn’t hurt to find confidence in her demon currently loosing its mind at the sight of Zoey so very soft and compliant beneath to two of them.

“Y-yes, unnie,” Zoey breathed, shivering as the cool air kissed over her untouched spine; a blank canvas waiting for the first dabs of paint.

“I love your freckles, aegiya,” Rumi sighed, her tongue draping over them as if to remember their taste. “Every single one. They’re like stars,” she kissed them, Zoey shivered. Not from the sensation, but the fondness in her voice. The satisfaction in just the idea of her skin alone, a map of constellation worth memorizing.

Then she bit.

Then Zoey squeaked.

Mira guided a winding trail of bites down the length of the lyricist’s back, twisting and turning like a serpent etched onto her—from her shoulder, to the low dip of her spine, and back up to her opposite shoulder in a winding oroborous of ownership.

A coil of satisfaction grew in the Rumi’s chest, only spurred on further as her nostrils flared—her lungs filling with the scent of Zoey’s excitement so fiercely she might have thought for a moment she was nibbling on her thighs instead of her shoulders. Had smell always been this intense before? No, the room had smelled like sex for a while now, yes, but this was different. Rumi could make out the shifts in it, like the slowly lightening color of coffee grounds as more sugar was dumped into it. The arousal was sharp, specific, and so distinctly Zoey’s. It waxed and waned with every bite; a clear peak and valley as she bit and released.

“You really do like being a little chew toy, don’t you?” confidence seeped into Rumi’s demeanor with every submissive little mewl that fell from the youngest’s lips. Her demon preened at the control, at the admiration for this pliant little being under her tongue, doing so very well for her. Being so obedient, so good. “You make it so easy for me,” she breathed against her sun-kissed skin.

“Bite”

Zoey breathed a soft cry.

“Stop”

“—You’re so soft,”

“Bite”

A soft whimper.

“Stop”

“—So sweet,”

“Bite”

Zoey moaned as she felt a warm tongue paint her skin between those clenched fangs pinching her.

“Stop”

“—All for me aren’t you?” The brief hiss of stinging skin was a kiss in and of itself each time pointed teeth left Zoey’s tender flesh.

“Bite”

Her shoulders shook.

“Stop”

Zoey couldn’t stop trembling. Her thighs couldn’t stop. She whimpered. Delicate and needing. Gentle lips kissed her cheek without teeth. They didn’t need to claim there, the blush creeping over the rapper’s skin was signature enough. “Am I wrong?” Rumi asked sweetly.

“ [No… god fucking no, sh-shit Rumi ]! ” Zoey whined through shuddering breaths.

Mira cackled behind her delightedly, “I think you rebooted her brain, Ru,” she grinned carnivorously, “she only babbles in English when she’s really out of it,”

Zoey was gasping like she was drowning, in her aroused daze she made the mistake of moving her hands back where they’d been so obediently waiting above her head. The gentle but nonetheless guttural growl of displeasure that left the half-demon’s throat was all the warning she needed to return them to their place with squeak. Mira snickered taking the opportunity to keep her wrists down herself. She shifted to coo into Zoey’s ear with deceptive sweetness, “ [ behave~ ] ”

Zoey became a puddle under their combined efforts to subdue her. Keening and gasping at every prickle of teeth that pinched her flesh, paired so gorgeously with deft slender fingers combing through her hair, comforting and mocking all the same. She couldn’t take it anymore.

Her body went taught beneath them; she keened shrilly against their ears, body spasming unevenly before she suddenly went stark limp, sinking against the sheets.

Both women above her went still. Rumi and Mira locked eyes, the carnal gaze of lust leaving the former’s golden irises momentarily as the singer blanched. “Zo…” gaped, “d-did you just?”

“Yu-huh” Zoey nodded breathlessly, her untouched legs quivering from her release.

“Holy shit…” Mira breathed, shaking her head, somewhat in disbelief, somewhat in proud amazement. “Rumi’s really got that demon in her,” she said matter of factly.

“MIRA OH MY GOD! ” Rumi flushed, drowning the room in gold.

Zoey giggled weakly, trying and failing to sit herself with limp arms. The dancer sank down beside her, gently cradling her upright. She kissed her forehead lovingly, stroking a bit of damp, black hair away from her face. “You alright there, little one?” Mira asked tenderly, watching unfocused brown eyes fight to clear their haze beneath the flutter of dark lashes. Rumi inched closer, watching just as intently.

“No…” Zoey breathed, her lip a pout. She blinked, looking at the two women watching her with earnest concern. “Rumi’s definitely getting more stickers than me…”

Her bandmates broke out into easy, affectionate laughter.

“We’ll make your stickers turtle shaped to make up for it ,how does that sound?” Rumi offered, holding the rapper’s small hand against her own fluttering ribs as she rested a chin over Zoey’s shoulder. She giggled at the elation which painted itself over Zoey’s face at the suggestion, before her eyes wandered down…down to the marks painting her girl’s back.

Rumi swallowed thickly at the shallow indents painted across the maknae’s soft body, gripping into her flesh like an insistence. Something fought for control in her head at the sight—the satisfaction of marking her territory as hers alone (and Mira of course) to possess and the horror of what she’d done to such a delicate figure with her own mouth. The half-demon hadn’t realized her breath picking up until a hand appeared on her shoulder, rubbing gentle circles no sooner than did pink lips appear at her cheek.

“Look at how pretty you made our maknae, ampeom~” Mira purred in her ear with nothing but honey thick delight; Rumi was beginning to wonder if the visual could smell her anxiety as well as she could Zoey’s arousal. “She gonna be remembering this night for as long as those marks stay there,” she said, “remembering how good you made her feel. How happy you made her~”

White hot craving sank into Rumi’s gut, she hissed quietly through closed teeth, pupils thinning in a mix of desire and the warming sensation of accomplishment as she watched Zoey gasp softly in glee, straining her neck towards the mirror across the room to catch a peak for herself.

A delighted grin split her face as her eyes traced the path of the fang marks dancing around her spine. Zoey squealed a happy trill that sent flutters of pride and achievement through Rumi’s demon half. Mira had no doubts the puff of the singer’s chest wasn’t a conscious motion, but perhaps that made it all the more adorable.

“Fuck,” the lyricist spat the word like a hot puff of breath caught in her chest. “That’s so damn hot!” she uttered as she drifted a finger over one of the indents, a wicked smile finding her lips as the thing was already beginning to delicately bruise a pretty blue. She turned to give Rumi a quick but deep kiss on the lips. “Thank you Ru-Ru” she purred into the crook of her patterned neck, “I love them. I love you,” she sang, the dimple of her cheek pressing against a Rumi’s collar like a kiss all its own.

The half-demon beamed, returning the gesture with a half hug by one arm. “I love you too Zoey…and…I think I like them too,” she admitted shyly, choosing to listen to the overjoyed, self-flattery overflowing out of her demon side rather than the dread prickling through her heart on the human one. The former was more positive, and Rumi would be lying to say there wasn’t something nice about indulging in those feelings a bit. Her girls were still safe, and more over they were happy. So very happy…all because of her. Maybe there wasn’t any harm in lending an ear to her more primal lines of thinking?

The sudden smirk she felt against her neck drew Rumi’s attention back to the maknae—just in time for the girl to sink her little teeth into her skin for a quick bite. The singer cried out, in shock more than anything, at the sensation. Zoey’s giggles shuddered over her as her patterns burned indignantly, flickering an array of colors in surprise.

“Hehehe…I had to, fair’s fair!” she giggled, running a warm tongue over those colorful stripes, laughing at how they sizzled over her tastebuds like little embers.

“Well now you’ve done it, you’ve awoken the freak from her hibernation.” Mira said with a fond kind of exasperation watching their youngest nibble lightly over the junction of their leader’s shoulder. Zoey only stopped to turn and stick her tongue out at the dancer.

“Heh-heh…” Zoey laughed wryly, stealing a glance up at Rumi “she’s all talk now…but give a taste of what you just gave me unnie and I’m sure she’ll shut right up~” she beamed up to the half demon gleefully.

“Oh?” Mira perked up at that, but the lack of hesitation, no, the presence of delight in her voice gave Zoey pause, and sent something shivering down her spine. “Is it my turn already? Funny…I don’t exactly remember us giving you permission to come, Zoey,” she drawled eating up the slight twitch of fear in those widening chocolate eyes. “Do you Rumi?” she asked to the woman behind them while her gaze never left the flustered girl’s face.

Zoey gasped as another sit of lips appeared at the nape of her neck.

“No, I don’t, Mira,” Rumi recalled happily, quick to catch onto her game. “What should we do?” she flashed her innocent, amber eyes.

“Well, clearly our maknae has to remember her place, doesn’t she?” it was doing unspeakable things to Zoey’s insides that Mira referring to her like she wasn’t even in the room while staring her dead in the eye. It was like the dancer wasn’t looking at her, but looking into her.

“I think she does…“ Rumi purred against the ridge between her shoulders blades.

“I believe Zoey mentioned something about handlebars didn’t she?” Mira’s smokey gaze didn’t falter as she watched the girl’s own eyes glisten in want. She finally pulled away to turn to an apprehensive looking half-demon. “As much as I adore your fangs babe, I think they might pose some difficulty giving Zo what she wants—” she supplied gently. Zoey could feel the sigh of relief against her skin from behind.. “—But I know something else you could do~” the visual alluded darkly. “Something better~”

“What?” Rumi hummed, leaning closer with genuine curiousity. Zoey held her breath, just as curious.

“How about you strap her down?” Mira uttered with a sultry mirth.

A shiver clawed over the maknae’s skin as the breath hitched in her throat, parted lips hanging in the air like a question…while Rumi just stared blankly.

“What like…to the bed?” the singer asked slowly, brows slightly furrowed.

Her companions both turned to stare at her, puzzled, before Mira chuckled a beat later, something fond tugging at her lips as Zoey crooned sweetly, palming her hands above her heart.

“You sweet, sweet, innocent sex symbol of our generation,” Zoey fawned with nothing but love in her eyes, “that is not what she meant~” she purred.

“Oh…” Rumi blushed, feeling out of her depth again as she tried to stuff down the creeping sense of inadequacy pooling in her stomach. Her skin felt too exposed again as she sourly remembered just how much more knowledgeable her bandmates were at all of this than she. “What does she mean then?” she asked as casually as she could manage, trying not to sound as desperate as she felt to get back on the same page with her bandmates.

“Strap Zoey down…with a strap-on” Mira explained slowly, deliciously.

Rumi only stared.

“You know, a dildo…” the dancer tried again.

Silence.

“Are you—?” Zoey’s eyes boggled before they softened affectionately, “Oh you pure thing …” she crooned.

“—Use a fake penis to fuck her, Ru,” Mira put it bluntly.

Rumi’s lips fell apart in a silent gasp as golden light burned her companion’s retinas. The singer’s eyes widened against her reddening face as she stammered desperately for words, but her lips could only flounder to shape themselves around unformed sounds as her brain struggled to send signals to her voice.

Her band mates both couldn’t help but laugh, it wasn’t an unkind sound by any means, but it didn’t help. Rumi was already hiding in her hands again by the time her girls collected themselves enough to assure her. “It’s hot aein,” Mira shot her an easy grin.

“So fucking hot!” Zoey seconded gladly.

“And I think your demon will appreciate it~“

“I-I mean…that’s,” Rumi’s head was swimming with so many questions it was making her motion sick, “that’s a thing?” she finished lamely.

“Listen,” Zoey drawled, a casual hand coming to rest on her shoulder as the other animated itself as she spoke like she was some kind of used car salesman giving her a pitch about mileage, “hands and mouths are great and all but sometimes you need something a bit more…filling you know what I mean?” she grinned something sly and impish as she elbowed their leader’s side.

Rumi tore her eyes away from them, face drenched crimson, though perhaps less in frazzlement than it was embarrassment at her own lack of knowledge. “I-I suppose that makes sense…” she tried to justify, feeling silly for not considering that. But then again, none of this was ever something she gave very much thought towards until these two spontaneously brought up, ‘hey we all like each other, want to just do it?’…one morning at breakfast—followed by a very lengthy discussion on what ‘do it’ exactly meant, and the subsequent revelation that Rumi had never once in her life ever ‘done it’.

Mira straightened, putting her hands together and reclaiming charge of the room again as their reeling half-demon floundered and flushed. “Alright, normally I’d grab something to suit Zoey’s previous behavior but since this is all a practice night anyway,  I think we can do without the performaties,” she announced. “Zoey, love, go choose whichever one you like and bring it here while I try to calm our tigress down,” she told the all too excited woman.

“‘Whichever one’?” Rumi echoed, eyes snapping back to them through her overthinking haze. “You mean you guys have more than one!?” her voice pitched.

“Oh we have tons!” Zoey all but sang happily. “Probably one for every day of the month at this point,” she bragged with a toothful grin and shrink of her brown eyes.

Rumi’s mind was beginning to collapse with the weight of these epiphanies. “But why do you need so many of the same thing?” she struggled to understand.

Zoey looked at her, deeply and affectionately. “Rumi…baby…angel…one of the loves of my life,” Zoey set her hands on the woman’s shoulders, “they come in way more than just one shape and size.” She whispered deliciously.

If the pop princess’s face was hot  before, it was simmering now, though whether from embarrassment or visibly forgetting how to breath was up for debate. “And when you’re feeling more up to it, ampeom…” Zoey mused, choosing mercilessness tonight, fingertips dragging lazily over the bright gold patterns painting Rumi’s collarbone. “I can’t wait to explore with which ones fill you up just right~”

A full body shudder rippled through the half-demon as she whimpered audibly. Zoey leaned back to smile at her with a sweetness that betrayed every sinful thought going through her brain at the sight of Rumi’s quivering lips.

“Ok, I rescind my previous statement,” Mira declared, pulling the maknae away from the girl gulping for air like a beached fish, “Zoey grab something basic. Moderately sized, nothing too oddly shaped. Our girl’s already had two panic attacks tonight let’s not give her a third,” she told her.

“Ha ha, sorry baby,” Zoey cooed sympathetically, soothing a little kiss to Rumi’s nose. “You just really give a girl a lot of ideas,” she hummed before sliding off the bed and onto slightly unsteady legs. “I’ll be right back~” she sang when she regained her balance, “Mi-Mi remind our tigress how to breathe,” she called before dashing out of the room like speed itself.

“Rumi?”

Mira’s voice sounded distant, it took a moment for it to settle through Rumi’s ears and into her brain.

She finally, slowly turned a chin towards the dancer before the woman locked their lips together, gentle, but firm; commanding, as if forcing thoughts back to the forefront of her mind, settling her nerves and slacking her shoulders before she knew it.

The singer sighed gratefully as they parted, her limbs lighter and her lungs looser.

“Hi,” Mira smiled kindly, tucking a bit of purple hair around a pointed ear.

“Hey…” Rumi mumbled back shyly.

“You’re ok love. We’re right here with you,” the eldest reminded her, pulling a clawed palm to rest over her chest. Rumi clung to the pulse of Mira’s heart like a lifeline. She took another deep breath, trying to match the pace of Mira’s swelling lungs. “ It’s not as daunting as I’m sure you’re overthinking it to be,” the dancer assured, “it can feel a bit silly at first, but it’s so worth it for how good it makes Zoey feel.”

Rumi blinked. Oh yeah. Zoey. This was about her. Making her feel good. Making her happy. Making her moan. Drawing out all those delicate little sounds she kept hidden away to herself. Watching her eyes cross and fog as Rumi took her. Made her feel so good. Claimed her—

“Here we go!” the maknae all but leapt back onto the bed as she returned. In one hand Zoey held an oddly shaped leather harness of sorts Rumi struggled to orient in her mind, and in the other, a cyan, silicone length that shimmered against the golden light of the room—

“That’s moderate?!” Rumi squeaked.

“It’s only 16 centimeters,” Zoey shrugged voice flat and objective.

“O-only? H-how big is your biggest one?” oxygen clogged in her chest as her imagination ran wild.

Zoey opened her mouth to gladly answer before Mira cut her off and possibly saved their leader a heart attack. “We’ll show you another time, this is what you’re dealing with now,” she grounded her back to earth with a smooth, unwavering tone, “Is it ok?” she asked, handing it out to her. Rumi took the thing in her hesitant hands and had half the thought to drop it as if the thing was going to bite her.

“Ru, jagi?” Mira pulled Rumi’s gaze back up, slowly, like her head was stuck in molasses. “Are you ok?” she asked evenly, careful eyes searching over her.

Rumi swallowed, it only marginally helped the anxious lump in her throat. She nodded jaggedly, hurriedly trying to move her lips before she was hit was another ‘we need to hear your words’ speech.

“It’s just…kinda embarassing,” she cringed.

They both snickered sympathetically. “That’s normal, you get used to it,” Mira said, “can I help you put it on? Don’t want you falling and getting your horns stuck in the mattress.”

The singer’s nostrils flared as her shoulders raised to her ears, but she could only look away instead of trying to defend her honor. Something like that would absolutely happen. Zoey’s infectious laughter at the mental image only confirmed it.

Rumi nodded, deliberately refusing eye contact as she let Mira guide her legs through the soft leather straps, situating the faux member to sit just below her pubic bone.

“Is that comfortable? Too tight?” Mira asked looking her over, tucking a finger or two between the strap and her thigh to make sure it wasn’t digging into her skin.

“I think it’s ok…?” Rumi observed down at herself, the sight of a penis, even obnoxiously blue and unrealistic, coming out of her had her wrenching her gaze away with heated cheeks. “This is still a bit funny…” she muttered, her hands clutching in the air around nothing unsure of what to do with themselves.

“Oh—?”Zoey purred, something suggestive in her tone that pulled the half-demon’s attention towards her. The rapper shifted to all fours in front of her, Rumi’s curious gaze followed her as she dipped down, lower and lower. The singer’s brow furrowed then raised as Zoey parted her lips around the the tip of the toy without warning nor hesitation and took the entire length into her throat in one go.

A strangled breath fell from Rumi’s mouth as she watched the member disappear into soft, freckled cheeks. Zoey’s sweet face coupled with darkened eyes blowing wide as she slowly dragged herself back, coating the blue shaft in slippery spit did unspeakable things to the lead hunter’s core. Rumi began breathing harder. Zoey kept up the teasing eye contact as she let her tongue swirl over the tip like a piece of candy before she left the thing entirely.

“—You really think that, do you?” she uttered coyly, dabbing a bit of spit from her lip with a practiced indifference.

Rumi was panting now, but there was a gruff to the air as it left her throat—not quite a growl but something primal and possessive all the same. Glowing eyes slitted dangerously, as if a debate had been lost in her mind. The woman’s shoulders dropped, palms coming into contact with the bed as she began to stalk forward on all fours towards her lover. Her Zoey. Her prey.

Zoey smirked, eyes flickering with desire and satisfaction, a lure well hooked as she leaned back, content to lay there at first and meet Rumi’s gaze challengly…but something about the look in her leader’s eyes, the way she crawled too easily on hands and knees, not like a human but more a wild animal, a carnivor stalking her. Hunting. Zoey unconsciously began to crawl backwards with every advancement the lead hunter—the demon— made until the back of her head met Mira’s still waist.

She looked up to find the dancer watching down at her with amusement, like an owner watching a cat play with its new toy. Zoey swallowed hard, that cocky grin slipping from her face quickly.

“Oh shit…” she uttered, snapping back to Rumi who was right on top of her now, hovering above her dangerously, expression unreadable but charged. One clear motive: want. Clear instinct driving her like that of a shark keeping it stalking forward through the water. Zoey shivered beneath her, belly up and neck bared, the picture of submission. “Oh shit,” reality slapped her in the face. She blinked, heart pounding as stared up at Rumi, this being that looked like she was about two seconds from eating her alive. Zoey’s gut clenched in anticipatory glee. “Ohh…shit,” she all but moaned, limbs going slack, as if her body was also ready to offer itself up like a holy sacrifice to a deity.

Rumi drank in the sight of her with an almost dangerous sense of calm, a tiger seizing up prey before it pounced, claws bared, maw taut and dripping—

“Just a sec, ampeom,” Mira interrupted them, putting a hand on Rumi’s chest. It took everything in her not to chuckle as those pupils slit into pricked lines of indignation at being halted, pink lips curling over her fangs slightly like the promise of a snarl. The visual didn’t doubt for a moment that if she wasn’t one of the loves of her life, the half-demon very well would have thrown her off the bed at such an insulting gesture.

“Gotta make sure she’s ready first,” she insisted, which seemed to stir something lucid in the singer as her expression softenened into something more ‘Rumi’ at Mira’s words.  “Sit and stay, my good girl” she beckoned her to sit back on her heels.

Rumi’s demon wanted to growl at the humiliation, but Rumi’s euphoria at obeying a command beat it out with the soft little whine which left her throat.

Mira licked her fingers, not that she needed to, Zoey was more than slicked up from all of Rumi’s biting to take her in easy. She sunk two in without resistance, eating up the little sigh of relief in Zoey’s throat—an ache somewhat soothed. She fingered her slow and deep, taking her time to ease her open.

Rumi watched, transfixed, as Mira’s long fingers widened inside of the girl, filling, stretching, making room for her, she realized. Making sure she was ready for her cock. A part of the singer cringed at the word, but the other part rumbled eagerly at the thought. The half-demon watched the dancer’s ministrations with a watering mouth. Zoey’s cunt looked so pretty in the amber light of her patterns, like that’s how they were meant to look, Rumi’s color already washed over her like a signature. Already inside of her…

Zoey whined, trying not to squirm and come from just this alone, not when she had so much to look forward to.

“Look at her” Mira hissed haughtily. Neither girl knew who she was referring to, but perhaps that was by design as they met each other’s eyes.

They locked gazes with one another. Ravenous patience, just a hair-string away from diving in for the kill…and ragged, strained composure trying not to melt before the main event had even started.

“She’s so ready for you…so ready to take you,” Mira all but growled, tone dark and deceptively sweet. She smirked, watching her girls as they became worked up at the expectation of one another—labored breaths growing desperate and uneven as anticipation grew. Excitement blossoming at how desperate the other was for them.

Mira pulled her hand away to Zoey’s vocal displeasure. She swiped a tongue over one of her fingers to clean herself before catching Rumi’s eye, noticing the half-demon was watching her…watching the slick coating her skin. The dancer grinned easily, holding her wrist out in the space between them. “Only if you want to, aein” she uttered gently.

The singer blinked, breaking her own transfixion to flick her gaze between the visual and her glistening hand. A part of her was embarrassed, a smaller part even somewhat appalled, but a bigger, oh so much bigger part desperately wanted a taste of her Zoey.

Gingerly, she took Mira’s wrist in her clawed hands as delicately as she could manage, running a tongue over her lips before parting them and slowly taking a slender finger into her mouth.

It didn’t taste like much of anything, she noticed at first, but then the scent hit her senses and guided the flavor. Salty, she noted, more than anything it was salty, with just a tinge of something sweet, something like the ocean—like the salt of the beach with perhaps faintest lingerings of agave soap.

It tasted like Zoey. It tasted heavenly.

She closed her eyes, lapping her tongue over the length of Mira’s digit, more eager, her breath hitching at the flavor buzzing on her tastebuds; that burning desire coiled in her belly and licked up her chest with each swipe over the woman’s knuckles. She held Mira’s wrist with fervor as she took both soaked fingers past her lips, sucking desperately, like the fear of missing a single drop was too terrible a thought.

“That’s the taste of our girl—” Mira uttered, stoking the fire, waving the red billowing flag in front of the bull’s horns. “—The taste of how excited she is for you, for how good you’re going to have her.”

Zoey’s breathy moan caught the singer’s ear. Rumi took in a deep breath, the scent of sea breeze laced with something charged and needing flooded her nose, completely  engulfing her senses and pulling her towards a prize she so desperately craved. The smell was so luring she didn’t even have the time to be concerned she could just smell pheromones in the air all of a sudden…that would be a nervous breakdown for future, not horny-beyond-human-inhibitions Rumi. All present Rumi wanted was to have her prize...

A ragged breath dragged itself from Rumi’s lungs, a deep rumbling coating its edges like ancient intention. She opened her eyes and both her companion’s stilled…not that she cared, to be fair how could she know why? She had no way of seeing for herself that the whites of her eyes had dissolved into a stark black, the golden glow of her irises only burning against the dark sclera all the brighter. Mira shivered; Zoey had to fist the sheets beneath her as to not come right then and there without being touched. Again…

With a controled breath, the dancer aligned herself, taking her hand back to lean into the beast about to pounce. With a finger against a patterned chin, she turned Rumi’s gaze down to the shivering maknae, so soft and eager. Waiting. Waiting so good for her. Always so good. So good for the one she belonged to—

“You want her?” Mira cooed with a false innocence in her ears.

It took a moment for words to escape that panting mouth, a coarse and starving,“ ÿ̶̮́͋e̸̩̗̓́ś̸̝ͅ“ fell from fanged lips.

“Oh fuck me…” Zoey groaned quietly. Whether in resignation to her current predicament or as a request for action on Rumi’s part was debatable…but perhaps both were equally true.

Pink lips curled dangerously as Mira whispered into Rumi’s ear, never taking her eyes off the shivering maknae, watching her like a puppeteer about to pull a string.  “Go get her”

A tension snapped in the air, tangible and electric.

Rumi was on top of Zoey in a flash of speed and orange light, pinning her wrists above her head with both hands. Zoey let it happen with wide, awestruck eyes. The singer all but devoured the lyricist’s mouth, like she was starving. The girl beneath her let her lead the kiss with abandon, feeding her every moan and sigh she had to give with enthusiastic abundance.

Rumi pulled away a moment later panting as  they held a heated gaze with one another for a long moment, so long in fact that something lucid stirred in the woman’s mind, as if remembering that…oh yeah…what exactly was she supposed to be doing right now?

“Like this,” Mira appeared at Rumi’s side, hand falling to the head of the silicon member between them to line it up with Zoey’s wet entrance. Rumi shuddered watching the girl beneath her bite her lip at the subtle kiss of contact, lifting her lips oh so subtly to greet it. “Don’t go all the way at first,” the visual instructed, “build up to it. Let her get used to you.”

“Won’t take me long~” Zoey said breathlessly with a soft, confident snicker.

“I don’t think that smug attitude will last once you remember this is a punishment, brat,” Mira was all too happy to coo back at her.

Zoey visibly blushed, and Rumi could feel how she twitched in her hold. The demon licked her lips. Hungry.

A slender hand situated itself on her hip, the other on the maknae’s waist, steadying both her girls. “Slowly Ru, nice and slow,” Mira uttered as Rumi eased in gently, trusting the woman to guide her as she pulled her eyes away from her hips to watch the maknae’s face. How her lips parted in a silent gasp, her eyes widened and rolled back softly, the shiver that wracked through her as her spine straightened at the new but welcome intrusion, chest arching delicately.

Something in the half-demon stirred at the sight of her scrunched nose twisting her pretty freckles, and the breathy little whines that fell from her throat.

I did that…her blood sang, I made her feel like that…I want to do it again.

Before she knew it Mira was already guiding her back out, somehow Zoey’s fluttering eyes and deep moan was even more tantalizing as she was left empty and craving for more. Rumi sighed.

“Perfect, aein,” Mira praised, for once both hunter and demon beamed at the admiration. “Just keeping going like that, a bit deeper each time until she can take you comfortably.”

She pulled away to let the singer find her own rhythm. Rumi watched Zoey in mesmerization at every little shiver and whine she drew out like she was seeing color for the first time as she burrowed into her. Each new inch blessed her ears with a new sigh, a new arch of small breasts towards the sky as she stretched her carefully and tenderly.

Gradually, she made her way to the hilt of the toy, a deep sigh, bordering on a chuff escaping Rumi’s throat at the feeling of their hips meeting flush. Zoey was so warm; her patterns drank in the heat of the rapper’s skin, buzzing brighter. The maknae shivered in her hold, unable to do anything but hold around the girth inside of her, for as long as Rumi wanted. The satisfaction of that thought left the singer feeling a bit drunk.

“Good,” Mira hummed, “stay there just a bit so she can get used to you”

It was Rumi’s turn to shiver, muscles taut and waiting as she looked down at the flushed girl, adjusting to the member nestled snugly in her heat. Then, Mira was grabbing her wrist suddenly to bring her clawed palm to rest lightly over Zoey’s stomach. There was a tautness there, she found, a firmness she hadn’t recognized before.

“That’s you, Rumi-ya~” Mira fawned, smirking at the visible shiver running across patterned skin, “that’s you inside of her. Filling her up so nice.” The dancer couldn’t decide whose reactionary whine was more adorable. Perhaps the fact they seemed to do it in sync.

Her demon rolled that thought between her lips like a sweet piece of chocolate with a wet tongue and a chuff of pleasure. She withdrew the remaining hand at Zoey’s wrist to cup at the rapper’s chin, stealing another breathless kiss from her parted lips, smiling at the girl’s contented little hum at the taste of herself still on Rumi’s tongue. Zoey arched her chest up in appreciation.

After a while she began to whine softly into the kiss,  growing restless with the patience expected of her. That warmth pooling in Zoey’s stomach was adamant—crying out for attention. She rolled her hips against the strap with need, a needy whimper buzzed against the singer’s lips like a petulant question.

“Ah-ah-ah”Mira scolded her immediately, hands pinning her waist down to the bed. “You’ll take what Rumi wants to give you, when she wants to,” she was more than happy to remind her. “ And you won’t be coming until we’ve decided. Right Ru?”

“Y̵̘̅e̴͔̫͂s̸̨͝…̶͖̒” the half-demon gruffed. Zoey whimpered, clenching around the toy inside her. Clenching around Rumi.  A moan blessed Rumi’s pointed ear like a tease, a promise of more lovely sounds hiding somewhere in the maknae’s chest. She just needed to drive them out. And she had all the time she liked didn’t she?

Rumi pulled back gently, fighting every instinct that screamed to slam as hard and fast as she could back in—to just get to the good part already—to make sure she wasn’t harming her. “Is…is this ok?” Rumi’s tongue felt like cotton as the words fought their way through her demonic haze, “Am I h-hurting you?” as she moved her hips shallowly, just rutting against her girl’s entrance.

“Fuck no!” the lyricist practically growled, brown eyes burning with impatient need for more. The look spurred something of a challenge within Rumi’s demon—her clawed palms flew out to cage around either side of the maknae’s head against the bedsheets, a quiet, warning growl echoed boisterously from her throat.

You don’t get to speak to me like that...

Zoey shivered, immediately going slack beneath her. She bit her lip, deliberately softening her gaze as she turned her chin ever so to side, her pretty neck bared and exposed. She canted her hips just slight enough to be felt against Rumi’s waist but not jostle, not to be disobedient. She arched her back to push her blushing, sun-kissed chest up. “I’m sorry,” she mewled gently, a soft pout to her lip. “P-please Rumi…unnie…can I have more?” she blinked slowly up at her.

Off to the side Mira rolled her eyes at the immediate 180 in demeanor, it was far too quick to be genuine, but the primal logic of Rumi’s brain accepted it twofold. She ducked down to lick the sweat from Zoey’s sweet neck, a soft purr behind her lips as a smile pulled over her fangs as she nuzzled beneath her jaw for a moment.

“G̸͖͉̊ö̶̘o̸̱͝d̴͓͍̽ ̶̜̥̃̈́ǵ̴̟̑i̸͒͜r̵̻̬̓l̵̞̄~̸̥̂̓,” she growled. Zoey saw stars.

Her lips dragged down the rapper’s throat to nip across her collarbone as her thrusts became deeper, pulling out halfway before plunging back in slowly. She felt the air in the maknae’s lungs quake with each thrust, how she sighed so nicely when she filled her to the hilt, how she moaned like sin when she rolled her hips up against her walls to stroke that special spot Rumi was quickly learning about.

Rumi watched how the strap disappeared into her girl, how she took her in so eagerly. She played with the notes of Zoey’s throat like weaving a melody, strumming together the best chords for the prettiest song. All the while Mira was there to reel her back whenever the lyricist got too excited, got too close to release she hadn’t been granted.

“Not yet, maknae,” she purred with far too much kindness than what her eyes suggested, “you haven’t earned it. You can let Rumi play with you a bit more, can’t you?”

Zoey whimpered, her thighs shuddering as she stretched around the cock in her womb with each purposeful thrust of singer’s hips rolling into her, filling her up, warming her with her presence. It was intoxicating, and all the more frustrating she couldn’t give in to the heat submerging her from her core. The youngest’s lovely eyes glistened with unshed tears as she hiccuped with the effort to hold back, and Rumi’s demon couldn’t help but croon at the sight of her sweet girl looking so very sad. She licked the salty tears away from the corners of her eyes with a warm tongue, nuzzling against her check with a settling purr.

Mira swallowed a mewl at the delicate sight.

“She’s alright, Ru,” the visual hummed, stroking a hand down a patterned back, “it’s finally hitting her that this is a punishment,” she smirked into those wet brown eyes looking up at her so pleadingly. They squeezed shut as Rumi began thrusting a bit faster, experimenting. Toying with her. Experiencing all Zoey had to give for the first time.

The lyricist whimpered in restraint, worrying her kiss swollen lip between her teeth. The demon tried to kiss the sad sound away from her throat with a press of her lips to Zoey’s neck. Rumi wanted to make her feel good, wanted to make her happy for taking what Rumi had to give her like such a good girl, stretching around her cock so prettily, making such lovely sounds, whining for her, moaning for her, being taken by her. Being her good girl. Her girl. Hers.

The half-demon wailed softly at the quiet little sobs which bubbled from the maknae’s throat, and Mira had to stop for a moment to consider who exactly was being punished right now. Even if she was topping, even if she was doped out of her mind on feral demon horniness, Rumi at her core still just wanted to please. Wanted to serve. Mira wanted to cry.

“—Want to make her happy Ru?” the dancer grinned genuinely seeing a glimmer of hope present itself in demonic eyes despite their inhumanness. Rumi chirped curiously. “Why don’t we give her a little job?”

“J-job?” Zoey gasped, trying to blink the bleariness from her vision .

“You heard me,” Mira deadpanned, already crawling over until her knees where at either side of the girl’s head. Zoey suddenly found her ability to see again very quickly. “If you can make me come first, then you can get what you want. Can you do that sunshine?”

Mira’s heart swooned watching the maknae’s eyes light up with eagerness from her perch above. “Yes…yes unnie,” she gasped, taking hold of the dancer’s firm thighs and tugging them lower.

The dancer’s chuckle came out a broken sound as an eager little tongue found her heat immediately, getting to work without mercy. Mira splayed a slender hand over her chest, dull nails skirting around her nipples. “Good girl,” she hummed, before turning her attention to her other good girl. The one doing such a good job on her first time.

“Hey princess~” she cooed when Rumi met her eyes. “Look at you,” she praised, kissing over her forehead; the damp sheen of sweat made the orange glow of her patterns shimmer like the sunset. “You’re doing such a good job with our Zoey.” The half-demon preened at the approval, meeting her lips mindfully, so very mindfully of the sabers in her mouth. Mira could sense the rigidness in the kiss and quickly moved down to suckle at a pattern on her throat.

Rumi threw her head back with a moan, her black and gold eyes lulling shut as the visual peppered praise across her skin. She rolled her hips again, deep slow thrusts. In fully, out fully. Mira dropped a hand over Zoey’s stomach, feeling the bulge beneath her fingers and with a wicked smirk, adding delicious pressure to her womb.

Zoey shuddered and fighting to keep her legs straight with a groan—the vibration against her pussy making Mira shiver.

“You really are mean,” Rumi observed.

“It’s not mean, it’s efficient” Mira mused with a pleased smile, grinding gently against the rapper’s chin.

“Its cheating”

“Do any of us care?”

The crash of their lips was the answer.

Slender hands found Rumi’s waist and began guiding her thrusts to go just a bit quicker, a bit more shallow into the warm snatch of their songwriter. Mira guided the half-demon how to rub perfectly right against that special inner spot, how to really make Zoey fight for composure, fight to finish off the eldest straddling her face as fast and hard as possible.

Rumi’s hands came to hold Mira’s shoulders as she gently suckled bellow her jaw with careful teeth.

The fangs grazing her skin and Zoey’s hard suck to her clit had the visual crying out in pleasure within seconds.

Zoey drank her fill of Mira’s release as Rumi  kissed between the valley of her small breasts, delighting in the echoes of air she felt against her lips.

“Good girl…” Mira panted, carefully removing herself, “very good girl Zoey.” The maknae smiled tiredly up at her whilst the dancer looked her over with careful eyes. The back of her hand brushed the crazed black bangs from her forehead to see her without obstruction. “How are you doing? Does your neck hurt? Do you need water?”

Rumi's heart swooned at the sight with a tender grin tugging at her cheeks. Mira could act mean all she wanted, ham up the cruelty and the aloofness in the bedroom, but at the end of the day all she was was a giant softie, holding both the water glass and the back of Zoey’s head so the girl didn’t have to do any work as she took grateful sips.

Zoey looked like an absolute wreck. Her hair was frazzled and loose, bangs stuck to her head this way and that from sweat, her cheeks were wet with slick and tears. She was gorgeous.

Mira and Rumi both kissed either side of her head.

“Do you think she deserves it now Ru?” Mira asked above the lyricist’s head.

“She always did,” Rumi affirmed. “She’s just fun to tease~” she chuffed.

Zoey flushed, unfocused eyes bulging. “You—OH!” whatever offended retort she could have said died in her throat as Rumi sunk down and licked the taste of Mira off Zoey’s freckles with slow long strokes of her tongue. Mira tasted different from her other girl, but nonetheless wonderful, the singer acknowledged pleasantly. A bit more metallic than Zoey’s taste—it buzzed across her senses like something sharp, almost citrusy. So very Mira. She purred as her inhuman pupils blew wide with desire. Zoey moaned at her expression beneath her.

“Ready?” she gruffed, and Zoey got the sense that the hunter was using all in her power to hold the demon back, make it wait for her permission. Zoey's command. Oh fuck…

“Yes…yes please take me Rumi, please I want you,” she begged, with that practiced softness of her features, that submissive lilt to her voice, that coy little cant of her hips against the strap nestled inside of her.

She got what she wanted with an impish giggle as eager claws gripped at her waist to sheath her into the faux cock.

Zoey moaned, a guttural, satisfied sound as Rumi moved with desperate speed, spearing her hard and deep with each deliberate thrust like the world may very well end if she couldn’t fuck her fast enough .

The half-demon watched in awe of how the bright wet member disappeared into Zoey’s warmth—sucking her in, begging for more. Begging for her. Rumi growled, a rumbling possessive sound as she ground her hips into her womb each time she bottomed out.

Zoey threw her head back with a grateful groan “yes…fuck yes,” she all but screamed. With her neck bare it was all too tempting to pass up a taste. Rumi latched her teeth onto the soft column of the lyricsist’s throat to suckle gentle, leaving little imprints of her approval.

Her girl cried, small hands shooting out to grab the base of the half-demon’s horns, whether to keep her there and for Zoey’s own support no one was to say, but it only spurred the demon’s desperation on all the more. This was right. Making Zoey feel good was right. Zoey begging for her, holding her, keeping her closer was so very, very right.

“ [ M-more…fuck more! Please I can take it! Please! ] ” the girl all but pleaded.

The bed creaked with Rumi’s effforts, thrusts becoming choppy and unrhythmic but never loosing an ounce speed, never losing strength. The singer panted hard and loud, the edges of her breath fraying into soft growls which soon soothed into jagged purrs of affection as Zoey held onto her tighter. Held onto the one making her feel so good, the one who knew how to take care of her, who always took care of her. Her leader, her best friend, her lover.

Mira leaned in, “know how to make it even better?” she alluded with something coy on her tongue as she whispered something inaudible into Rumi’s ear, all the while staring Zoey straight in the eye. The youngest shuddered as those blazing eyes somehow darkened at whatever suggestion the Mira on her shoulder had just uttered to her.  She didn’t have time to speculate before hands were grabbing at the back of her knees to hoist them over patterned shoulders. Zoey cried out as the toy thrusted deeper into her.

“Ḡ̟oo͙͒͢dͭ̐…goo̶̺̽dͭͨ g̟ī̩̾r͖͑̈l̚…ḽ̞̜o̪͑ͨv̠e̷̡̱ yͦ͒o̿̍u͖,͞ l͎̉o̦̕vĕ…̲̝͘m͊͠in̞͢e…̢͇my͛͟ g̱̐i̸r̘̈́l…̽̒̂s̵͘o͚̔ g̸̽ỏo̓̇͢d̵” Rumi husked out brokenly, the hunter fully in the back seat as the demon took over with gleeful abandon.

Words were beyond the maknae now, she babbled out pleas and gratitudes in an incoherent garble of whines and moans as she gripped Rumi’s horns for dear life as the half-demon plowed to her heart’s content.

Gentle, slender hands appeared at her forehead to comb the wet bangs from her face. Blurry wet eyes blinked up at the calm face of their visual watching down at her tenderly, almost comically composed and controled next to her other panting, desperate girlfriend fucking her hard and fast like she very well was about to die.

“Your unnies love you so very much, Zoey-a. Go ahead and come for us sweetheart,” Mira cooed so very softly in her ear, like a lullaby hushed in a hurricane.

Rumi felt her voice vibrate against her jaw as Zoey came with a shuddering scream. Such a very pretty sound, Rumi wanted to drink it. Her thrusts came to a jerky stop as the girl shuddered beneath her grip, thighs trembling between her clawed fingers as she spasmed around the toy inside her pussy. Concern knit the half-demon’s brow as the maknae continue to tremble, dropping the horns in her palms to hold around Rumi’s shoulders. The singer hastily trying to pull out of her but a slender hand on the small of her back stopped her.

“Not just yet,” Mira insisted gently. “Stay inside until she comes down a bit, it’ll help her,” she soothed.

Pointed ears perked up at ‘help her’, more than happy to comply. So in the meantime, she licked and kissed over the bruising bite marks she’d painted like a landscape over soft pink skin, purring up a storm against Zoey’s chest as if to urge her to relax. Mira joined her, curling around the maknae’s head behind her on the bed to stroke through her hair and kiss her temples.

The lyricist smiled tiredly up at them, a clumsy hand reaching for Mira’s chin as the other stroked through purple air appreciatively. Something deep and hollowed sang in her blood. A calm washed over Rumi, pleasant and soothing. Like the kind of ache in one’s muscles after a hard, rewarding work-out. The small buzzing desire in the back of her skull finally given its fill and contented to slumber peacefully again.  The lead hunter kissed their youngest on the tip of her nose. “I love you,” she sighed, “we love you~”

Gradually with the visual’s guidance she pulled out as delicately as she could, Mira tenderly shushing the maknae’s little whines of discomfort until she was freed. Still panting, Rumi looked down at her lover and preened at the dazed, sated look resting in her eyes. She beamed in satisfaction, lowering herself to rest their foreheads together as she breathed in tandem with her girl. Zoey giggled brokenly through labored breaths, lifting a limp hand up to cradle her patterened face. Rumi nuzzled into the touch happily.

“That…” Zoey heaved for breath like she’d just sprinted a marathon, “was fucking awesome.”

Rumi blushed, a shyness suddenly washing over her as she smiled softly. “Yeah?” she asked. Zoey knew she heard her…and she was more than happy to say it again.

“Im-ma-cu-late,” she emphasized, “delicious, life-redefining. My skin is watered, my crops are clear…I need more words to describe the spiritual journey you just took my uterus on,” she gushed as the singer bashfully shot her gaze down, patterns shimmering pretty gold.  “No way that was your first time—”Zoey gaped at her.

“I don’t think I really did much,” Rumi rubbed her neck, “I kinda just let my demon do the work,” she admitted.

“No. That was you,” Mira insisted, a soft hand on her shoulder, “in one way or another, it that was still all you, Rumi.”

Rumi smiled softly, shyly meeting both of them as her skin glistened in iridescent shimmers.

“Holy fuck!” Zoey cried out as realization struck her, “And that was just the vanilla strap! Oh my god Mira! We need to give her the peridot one!” she gasped desperately gripping the visual’s shoulders, shaking them roughly.

“I don’t think you’d be able to walk for a week if Rumi did what she just did to you with the peridot one,” Mira noted with a flat sort of fondness.

Zoey’s eyes sparkled like stars, “you think so?” she utterly breathless.

“Freak,” Rumi snickered affectionately.

“Freak,” Mira purred. They both kissed her on either side of the head. Zoey giggled, kissing them back happily, letting the matter rest…for now. She had an entire drawer filled with potential revelations that could wait for another night.

Rumi clumsily began to remove the harness as Mira wiped their maknae’s face clean. She almost had it off before slipping over the last leg and face planting into the mattress.

Her girls laughed mirthfully. Zoey crawled over to helped her blushing, indignant face up as Mira discarded the rest of the leather device.

“I love you,” Zoey hummed, beaming at her gently. Rumi grumbled bashfully, her pride still wounded, Zoey only grinned, kissing below her jaw. Her lips moved to hover her ear. “Big scary demon~” she sang cheekily, nibbling at the soft flesh of her earlobe. She pulled it between her teeth with a playful little ‘grrr’ noise bubbling up from her throat. It was a joke, a tease, and a terribly unconvincing sound, but Rumi’s demon didn’t seem to agree—

The singer growled back sharply, a warning snarl curling over her fangs as she grabbed small wrists with commanding hands.

Something demanding and authoritative shimmered in her golden eyes as she stared down the maknae fiercely before she blinked. Rumi shook her head looking back at both her lovers staring at her with wide discerning eyes.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t know why I…” she stammered, blushing hard as shame licked through her. “I-I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what came over me—”

Zoey’s fitful laughter interrupted her.

Something curious sparkled behind the rapper’s expression that admittedly made Rumi nervous. “Wait, wait wait,” she tried controlling herself, waving her hands around in front of her trying to sit up a bit straighter. Zoey took a deep breath, staring Rumi hard in the eye with an uncharacteristic seriousness, before she bared her teeth with a soft little grunt.

The reaction was immediate—a demonic growl rumbling out through an insulted snarl as black pupils thinned in a sea of honeyed gold.

Zoey was hysterical, squealing like she’d just found a new setting on her keyboard, slapping her hands repeatedly on her knees.

“No fucking way…” Mira uttered, transfixed.

Rumi blushed furiously.

“Guys I’m not—“

She did it again, furrowing her brow with a little mock sneer over adorably dull teeth, laughing in delight as the half-demon grumbled back seriously on instinct.

Zoey cackled, positively buzzing.

“Z-Zoey I don’t—”

She did it again, shoulders hunched above a lowered head as she grumbled. And, again, Rumi growled right back, angling her body even lower than she, hands splayed below her ready to push up into action.

The maknae clapped in delight, “this is amazing!” she grinned.

“Zoey this isn’t a toy—!”

She did it again, fingers hooking in the air like unthreatening little claws that Rumi’s demon took way too seriously. The lead hunter pounced in a flash with something furious and disrespected thundering from her chest as slit eyes bore into merry brown ones. A moment later she blinked from her trance and wrenching herself off the cackling girl.

“Sorry!” Zoey wheezed. “ Sorry I shouldn’t be riling your demon up like this” she wiped a wetness from her eyes, “but it’s so easy to get it going.” She grinned shiningly up at the singer who looked like she wanted to dig a hole in the bed and hide in it forever. “Mira! Mira! Try growling at her—!” Zoey turned to her eagerly before her sentence died in her throat.

Rumi followed her line of sight curiously, to find Mira watching them, no watching her, wide-eyed and red faced. The half-demon could smell it, the subtle shift in the air, that charged tangy spike of arousal coming from her. It only grew in fragrance as they made eye contact. Mira glanced away affronted.

That slumbering longing in the half-demon’s blood blinked sleep from its eyes all too gladly.

Zoey giggled darkly beside the pair, “Oh-ho…” she grinned wickedly. “Now it’s definitely Mira’s turn—“