Work Text:
It starts, as most things do, on a whim.
The three of them were trying out one of the new recipes Zoey had discovered online. A gorgeous looking kind of s’more cookie that looked like it had enough sugar to kill a caveman. Which meant that it was perfect for the three hunters. Obviously.
Soft music weaved its way through the kitchen. The evening had been full of light banter and soft giggles, easy conversation that jumped from topic to topic with no attempt at sticking to any one subject for an extended period of time. Flour dusted the surface of the kitchen island from the brief war Mira had waged on Rumi after her stirring abilities had been called into question.
(“That doesn’t look properly mixed.”
“It definitely is.”
“I can see a chunk of flour right there.”
“No you can’t.”
“And there’s another one over there! Are you trying to give us food poisoning? You suck at this.”
“...”
“... hey, why are you lifting the bag of flour?”)
Zoey had made no move to intercede, joining in on dousing Rumi with the white powder with glee. They had only called a truce after Rumi had grabbed the melted bowl of chocolate and started making some very threatening movements.
So that left the trio in their current situation. Rumi was brushing furiously at her clothes and hair to get the flour out of it. Mira was (discretely) mixing the sizable chunks of flour into the wet mix, trying to hide the bowl from Rumi’s view. And Zoey was pulling the wet wipes from the pantry, attempting to mitigate some of the mess they had created.
Pulling one of the wipes from the pack, Zoey began swiping at the marble surface, marveling at the ease with which the wipe cleared the layer of flour. She easily cleaned one half of the surface, leaning forward as she began to wipe more towards the middle and opposite end of the kitchen island. Bent at the waist, she reached forward, her chest almost fully flush with the cool marble as she continued her work. Immersed in her actions, she didn’t even register that the quiet sounds of stirring had ceased, the rapper wholly unprepared for what was coming next.
Slap!
The yelp that came from Zoey’s mouth was nothing dignified. It was an embarrassing squeak that jumped out as she lurched forwards before immediately straightening up with a small hop, hands instinctively flying to cover her backside as she spun around, wet wipe forgotten.
Mira’s gaze flickered up to meet hers, eyes heated as she stared. The bowl of their cookie dough was on the counter behind her. There was no shame in her eyes as she stared at Zoey hungrily, the offending hand still slightly outstretched and extended, fingers barely twitching like they yearned to repeat history.
Rumi, however, seemed to carry enough shame for the both of them, despite her fingers still stuck innocently in purple strands of hair. Her face burned brighter than Zoey’s, patterns pulsing dimly, mouth slightly agape, as her gaze dropped down and up repeatedly, like she was fighting gravity to keep them at Zoey’s eye level.
A losing battle, Zoey noted, as Rumi finally gave in and stared at the curve of her hips greedily, drinking it in like she had never seen it before.
“Sorry,” Mira finally offered after a moment of silence, clearly not sorry at all. In fact, she sounded almost satisfied. Smug. Zoey’s eyes narrowed.
Her skin still burned, but there was something else now. A spark. Desire, playfulness. Heat.
She gave them both a sweet grin, a sharper edge barely glistening behind the upward tilt of her lips.
“Don’t be,” she replied coyly, turning around to face the kitchen island once more. “Just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
And to punctuate her point, she leaned over once more, this time making sure to push her ass a little higher and lift her hips while glancing back over her shoulder, Mira’s smugness now transferred to the maknae.
Rumi was the one who let out a strangled noise this time, patterns flickering like a glowstick as Mira exhaled sharply, a quiet fuck released under her breath. Her eyes were honed in on Zoey, knuckles clenched white at her side.
Zoey wasn’t surprised this time when another slap rang out into the air.
And if the cookies were forgotten for that night?
Well.
Mira would argue that there were more important matters to attend to.
***
It seemed like after that night, a switch had been flipped. Not just for Mira. Even Rumi, who hadn’t even had the initial slip, had fallen victim to Mira’s tastes. Or, well, it wasn’t even like she had been persuaded to partake. It was more like Mira had unveiled a desire Rumi didn’t even realize she had. But now that she was aware, she really was aware . She was maybe even worse than Mira in this regard.
It started off slowly. Just in the bedroom, in low lighting and in between tangled sheets. Zoey would feel fingers wander more persistently towards her ass, feel stings on the soft skin there more and more frequently. Which was fine, Zoey wasn’t going to complain. It’s not like she had a problem with Mira or Rumi groping her butt incessantly when they were taking her from behind. It felt nice, and Zoey wasn’t going to lie and say that it wasn’t a little amusing to her that her girlfriends had developed such a fascination with her rear. Flattering, really.
When it starts to seep out of the bedroom, Zoey barely notices at first either. It feels normal that Rumi would just rest her palm on Zoey’s backside when she’s splayed across her on the couch. Or that Mira gives her a quick swat when Zoey climbs the stairs in front of her, as if she’s giving her a little speed boost. Zoey has a habit of sitting in their laps often when talking to them, and holding her from behind for support is expected, right? And when Zoey walks by, it’s normal for them to drop a hand from whatever they’re doing just to give her a small squeeze of the round flesh through her sweatpants. Right?
Zoey only really realizes just how deeply instilled this habit has become in her girlfriends when she’s laying on the couch one day, doomscrolling with her chin propped up in a pillow as Rumi trudges in with a deep sigh, back from a photo shoot.
Zoey glances up at Rumi, taking in the weariness weighing on her shoulders, the exhaustion sunken deep into her eyes. She hums sympathetically.
“Long session?”
Rumi just sighs again in response, making her way over to the couch. Zoey rolls partly onto her side as Rumi sits with her back against the cushions, sliding her legs under Zoey’s so that the younger woman is laying on the tops of her thighs.
“Mhm. Just need to rest for a bit,” Rumi murmurs, sinking deeper into the couch. Zoey hums again in acknowledgement. Sometimes Rumi enjoys just sitting in silence, decompressing, and Zoey understands that this is one of those moments. She lays back fully as she returns to her phone, shifting a little closer to her girlfriend.
Zoey’s swiped maybe three more times when she feels familiar fingers sink into her rear. Again, she’s not surprised when Rumi’s hands find their way to what seems to be quickly becoming Rumi’s favorite resting spot for her hands. It certainly seems that way during movie nights. But she is taken a little off guard when Rumi’s hands don’t lay passively, and instead start to squeeze and grab like Zoey’s ass is a fucking stress ball. Dexterous fingers slide across Zoey’s buttocks, nails lightly scratching at the skin through her pants, alternating between harsh gropes and light squishes. It sends a rush of heat to her core as Rumi continues her actions, thighs pressing together just a little tighter.
Zoey pauses her video, looking back at Rumi. The latter’s eyes aren’t even open, hands moving on autopilot.
“Um. Rumi?”
Rumi doesn’t bother opening her eyes. “Hmm?”
Zoey, on the other hand, has no idea how to even approach this. Rumi seems so at peace, so casual with what’s going on, that it makes Zoey feel like the weird one in this situation. Which shouldn’t be the case at all. She’s the one getting her ass kneaded like dough, after all.
“Are you-” Zoey coughs awkwardly. “Are you in the mood right now, or something?”
Rumi cracks an eye open to look over at Zoey, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
“Right now? Uh, I wasn’t exactly thinking about it…?”
She sounds so confused, like Zoey is the strange one for bringing it up when she’s the one grabbing her butt like it might run away from Zoey’s body at any moment, and Rumi’s the chosen one who needs to keep it grounded.
What the fuck.
Zoey feels another flush of warmth wash over her skin, sinking south once more as Rumi’s fingers didn’t let up at all.
“But, I mean, if you are, I don’t mind,” Rumi continues as her hands keep going . The tension pulls tighter in Zoey’s gut. She was about to scream or moan or jump on Rumi and start riding her fingers until the sun decided to give them some privacy.
She peers a little closer at Rumi’s face, noting that while some of the exhaustion has fallen away, not all of it has. And despite the lust roaring in her core, Zoey decides to fulfill her girlfriend duties and allow Rumi to continue her stress-relieving activity without jumping the half-demon like a rabbit in heat. Mira was coming home soon anyways, and Zoey could just make her take the brunt of her sexual frustrations. So with a silent groan and a dismissive wave of her hand in response to Rumi’s offer, she sinks her face back into the pillow.
In the back of her mind, she wonders if maybe she should start thinking about staging an intervention for her girlfriends. It does seem like their obsession is starting to have an effect on how sore her ass is every day. But, to be fair, it’s not like it’s unbearable, and Zoey really does find it funny to see her girlfriends try (barely) and fail (often) to keep their hands off of her.
Plus, Zoey thinks, it really doesn’t matter as long as they don’t do it in public.
***
(“I’m home!
… hello? Zoey? Rumi? Where are you guys?
Oh, Zoey, is Rumi not back y- mmph!”)
***
The thing about habits is that they don’t differentiate between public and private.
Huntr/x, unfortunately, finds this out the hard way.
The three are at a fanmeet, signing all kinds of merchandise for their fans as they step up to the table one by one to greet them with eager handshakes and excited rambles. The fans gush about their latest song. Sing their praises with adoring eyes. Soak in the sight of their idols.
Zoey is sitting on the leftmost side of the table, a wide grin on her face as she talks to a young woman who eagerly hands the maknae a photocard to scrawl her name across. She’s always loved meeting fans, feeling their passion and admiration pour out in a rush of words that invigorates the rapper. It’s one of the best parts of her job, to be honest. Seeing how her lyrics and her singing has touched so many lives, left such an impact on a variety of people.
Mira and Rumi are much the same, although they all express it differently. Whereas Zoey matches the rambling with her own lopsided smile and excited chattering of her own, Mira takes a more steady response, showing her gratitude through less expressive motions but still with sincerity shining through. Rumi, poised as ever, smiles kindly to each fan and thanks them genuinely with all the grace a top idol should have. Zoey watches them, admires the way they interact with each fan, thinks wow I really love them with a dopey smile.
It’s a good day, no, a great day really, and Zoey feels the familiar warm buzz of joy simmering in her veins when the fanmeet finally concludes. A quick look over at her girlfriends tells her that the same warmth is coursing through them, a nice haze in their brains. Her lips pull upward in a soft smile that’s quickly returned by the both of them.
The organizers start to usher people out as Zoey stands up, stretching her stiff arms and legs. Mira gets up as well as Rumi finishes the last of her signings, the pink-haired woman turning to join Zoey as they start to walk towards the back.
Not all the fans are out of the door when Mira’s hand drops unconsciously, without thinking. Her brain is fogged by the delight of an enjoyable fanmeet as her hand presses against Zoey’s rear, not squeezing, but too firm to be accidental. Pressing as if she’s guiding Zoey forward. There’s a young boy who glances back only to do a double take.
Thankfully, Rumi glides in just in time to cover the fan’s sightline. She walks on the outermost side of her girlfriends, covering up the scandalous scene as the group quickly disappears behind the curtains.
Mira doesn’t even notice anything’s wrong until Rumi reaches over and slaps her wrist away. At Mira’s offended expression, Rumi jerks her head towards Bobby, who is rapidly approaching with an annoyed expression, which was as close to anger as Bobby ever got.
“Mira!” he hisses sharply as he finally reaches the three of them. “You can not be doing that!”
Mira, always one to poke the snake, merely raises an eyebrow. “Do what?”
Bobby gestures at Zoey with a fast but controlled motion. “Touch her like that, especially when fans are watching!”
Oh god.
The idea that Bobby, of all people, had seen that little display, made Zoey want to dig a hole, crawl into it, and never come out again. They gave the poor man enough stress as it was. He certainly didn’t need to deal with their hormones on top of everything, and Zoey feels a small twinge of guilt at the idea.
Bobby sighs, seemingly calming down for a moment as he pinches the bridge of his nose before looking back up at the three of them.
“Listen girls, I understand you all have something going on that I’m not fully aware of. And that’s okay! You know I support you all, and always will.”
Mira’s face softened at his words, while Rumi nodded beside her, face gentle and apologetic.
“But you have to remember that you have a public image. And we do not need to add more scandals to your reputation if we can help it, okay?”
Bobby’s voice was quiet but steady, urging them to listen. He really was a good guy, and as Zoey nodded alongside her bandmates, voicing her agreement vocally as well, she decided that she was going to help prevent their manager from going bald.
Plan Prevent Bobby’s White Hairs was officially hatched that night.
***
The other thing about habits is that they are very hard to break.
Zoey’s first course of action is to sit her girlfriends down for a serious talk. Well, as serious as a talk about not touching her butt in public can possibly be. Rumi agreed with Zoey, of course, as the leader of the group and the most responsible for their public image, although disappointment still found home in the slightest droop of her bottom lip. Mira was entirely devastated, face in her hands as if Zoey had just delivered news of her imminent doom. Which, to Mira, maybe it was. Zoey couldn’t focus on that, though. She had a duty to fulfill for Bobby as repayment for all he had done for them.
So step one of Plan PBWH went swimmingly.
The second and final step, which was to actually ensure Rumi and Mira wouldn’t revert to their instincts, was much harder to accomplish.
Zoey started out just smacking their hands away every time they reached behind her like needy children, ignoring their affronted looks. The issue with this was that typically Zoey wouldn’t realize what was going on until their fingers actually made contact. By the time Zoey was raising her hand, Rumi or Mira would already be done giving her backside a pat as they walked by, and she would be left slapping air like an idiot.
Not effective at all.
So Zoey had to find a different strategy. And she had to find it fast, because there was yet another fanmeet coming up in two weeks, and Rumi and Mira were completely untrained. In fact, Zoey feared they might have been getting worse.
Her solution came from a video she saw about disobedient cats.
A spray bottle.
Mira was less than amused the first time her fingers grazed Zoey’s ass and water was immediately sprayed into her face.
“Shi-” Mira cursed, swiping at her eyes as her bangs hung down limply. “What the fuck, Zo?”
Zoey had the spray bottle aimed at her like a gun as Mira sputtered, water dripping down her jaw.
“I’m training you,” Zoey replied simply. Smugly. Zoey herself was finding a great deal of amusement in her training regimen.
Mira squinted at her, tucking strands of wet hair behind her ear to peer closely at Zoey’s hands.
“Is that a spray bottle?”
Zoey simply nodded, bright smile still on her face.
Mira frowned, crossing her arms. Zoey’s eyes strayed towards the flex of her forearms, glistening from the water.
“I’m not a damn cat.”
Zoey only shrugged. “If it works, it works.”
“This is stupid.”
“You’re stupid.”
Mira’s frown deepened as Zoey stuck her tongue out. Childish? Maybe. From the dark look Mira was giving her, Zoey knew that she was definitely going to be in for it tonight. Especially considering the ban from her butt she had given her girlfriends in normal circumstances, they had been absolutely ravenous for it at night. But that was a problem for future Zoey (although she was already mourning her soon-to-be inability to sit on chairs without a cushion). Present Zoey only had to stand her ground, prove that this was an effective method in taming her girlfriends.
Rumi happened to walk in at that moment, glancing at the two of them before pausing in her journey to the fridge.
“...Mir, why are you wet?”
“Ask Zoey,” Mira all but snarled, though no real venom was present in her tone.
Rumi took in the spray bottle, Zoey’s barely contained glee, and Mira’s frustration. The puzzle pieces quickly clicked together before she began laughing, nearly doubling over from the force of her laughter.
“It’s not that funny,” Mira grumbled as she twisted a lock of hair, squeezing droplets onto the floor.
“Pretty damn funny,” Rumi shot back, still shaking with giggles as she leaned over the kitchen island. “You look like a sad cat.” Zoey laughed at that, imagining Mira with cat ears flattened down sadly.
Mira rolled her eyes. “Wait till you look the same.”
“I won’t. Unlike you, I have self control.”
Only two hours later, Rumi found herself squeezing her drenched hair over the sink dejectedly as Mira’s laughs echoed around the bathroom.
***
The spray bottle method worked. Sometimes. Occasionally.
Okay. Who was Zoey kidding.
It was not working at all.
Mira seemed to be actively rebelling against the humiliation of being sprayed like a cat, making a conscious effort to not keep her hands to herself. Rumi would only deflate under the spray bottle, settling for a few hours before she seemed to completely forget about it and bounce back to her default settings.
Zoey was, quite frankly, at a loss. She had never thought it would be this difficult to reel in her girlfriends, but they were proving to be quite the unruly duo. Solutions were few and far between, and the fanmeet was in a couple of days. The plan was falling apart before her very eyes.
“What should I do, Derpy?” Zoey sighed, laying her head back against the carpeted floor, arms splayed out beside her.
The tiger nudged up against her shoulder, responding with only a low purr as he licked at Zoey’s cheek. Zoey giggled at the ticklish sensation, pushing his face slightly away.
“I mean, it’s not like I want to stop them from doing it permanently. Just, in public, in front of fans and stuff, you know?”
Derpy purred again, stepping around Zoey to lay his huge head against her stomach, front paws tucking in under him.
“So I need like a temporary fix. Like one that can make them behave for just a couple of hours,” Zoey said, sighing again as she dropped a hand to comb her fingers through the tiger’s fur.
“They’re so stubborn, though. Like, when they set their minds to something, I can’t imagine anything that’ll bend their will.”
Derpy rested his jaw against Zoey’s stomach, peering up at her with his large golden eyes. Zoey peeked back down at him, smiling softly as she scratched behind his ears, much to his enjoyment as he released another rumble from his throat. Zoey’s stomach rumbled in response.
Just as his eyes began to blink slowly shut, Derpy found himself jolted to the side as Zoey leaped to her feet, eyes shining with the promise of yet another idea.
“I got it, Derpy!” she exclaimed excitedly, crouching down to rub his head as an apology for practically throwing him off her.
“I’ll threaten their snacks. For each transgression, they lose a snack from their stash. It’s perfect!”
Derpy stared at Zoey as she scrambled back to her feet and leaped out of the room, ready to enact her plan, with only a call of “I’ll let you know how it goes!” over her shoulder. Derpy stayed where he was, laying back down in her room as he began to lick his fur.
If he could speak, he would’ve told Zoey his opinion, which was that there was no fucking way this would work.
***
Derpy was still laying on the carpet when Zoey stumbled back into her room the next morning, hair practically mussed up to the ceiling, Mira’s shirt slipping off her hickey-adorned shoulders, legs trembling with effort as she held the wall for support.
“Derpy,” Zoey rasped solemnly. “It didn’t work.”
The tiger didn’t react, clearly unsurprised. Zoey sighed shakily as she sat down gingerly on the bed, wincing at the contact.
“I told them,” Zoey started explaining, voice hoarse and cracking with the effort. “That I would start withholding their snacks. And Rumi -”
Zoey coughed. “Rumi just said it didn’t matter because Mira and I were her favorite snack. And then Mira came in ‘cause she found the dick I drew on her face with sharpie while she was napping. And then they jumped me.”
She turned her solemn eyes towards the tiger.
“I’m a victim, Derpy.”
Derpy blinked sympathetically in response.
***
By the time the fanmeet rolled around, Zoey was absolutely, positively sure that her girlfriends had regressed.
After the snack incident, as Zoey liked to call it, Rumi and Mira had been out of control. Zoey didn’t know what it was. Maybe Rumi was in some demonic heat or something, and was infecting Mira with it. Whatever the case was, a ton of concealer had already been used in covering up the marks that littered every available inch of tanned skin on her body. This was not good for the imminent fanmeet. Zoey was ready to throw in the towel and just let her girlfriends off the leash. It was their PR team’s job to keep everything under control anyways. Not her problem.
Still, she felt guilty at the idea of making Bobby deal with these issues, so she decided to try one final tactic. If this didn’t work, then Zoey had no more cards left to play.
When the three of them sat down for the fanmeet – Mira on the left, Zoey in the middle, and Rumi to the right – Zoey grabbed the two of them by the collar and dragged them towards her to whisper in their ears.
“If you two behave, I’ll do something real nice for you guys tonight.”
Zoey could practically see the imaginary dog ears on Rumi shoot up, back ramrod straight as the maknae let go of the both of them. The leader’s eyes were wide, throat bobbing slightly, imagination already going haywire as a faint blush tinted her cheeks, fueling Zoey’s smirk.
Mira was a little less obvious, but still clearly affected. Her eyebrows were slightly raised, jaw clenched tight and eyes narrowed at the closed doors in front of them. Zoey watched her fingers tap rapidly against the table before finally settling as she gave Zoey a tight nod.
Zoey’s grin grew wider.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Satisfied that her girlfriends would finally do their part in avoiding a PR nightmare, Zoey settled back into her chair and watched as the organizers opened the doors for their fans to come flooding in.
Just like last time, Zoey spent the next couple of hours talking animatedly with their fans, signing all kinds of objects and posing for selfies. It was easy to lose herself in the excited buzz of meeting hundreds of new and returning fans, although occasionally she looked to either side to see how Rumi and Mira were doing. Thankfully, they seemed to be doing well, acting as normally as ever as they interacted with everyone. Kind smiles and words. Perfectly normal.
It was towards the end of the session when Zoey was signing a card for a young girl, an easy smile on her face as she listened to the girl tell her shyly about how much she liked her rapping.
“It’s like, so fluid and satisfying,” she whispered to Zoey, like she was trying to tell her a secret.
Zoey laughed as she finished signing her name with a little heart at the end. “Aww, you’re too sweet, really. I appreciate your support!”
As she reached out to return the card to the girl, it slipped from between the fan’s fingers, fluttering towards the edge of the table. Zoey instinctively stood up and reached over to pick the card back up. Just as her fingers closed around the card, lifting it up to hand back to the girl, she heard it.
Well, felt it would be more accurate.
Slap!
Twin stings of pain on either side of her backside as the girl took the card from Zoey’s hand, the cracks ringing out sharply in the large room. Zoey bit her tongue so fast she nearly drew blood as she slammed back into her seat, ass burning in her chair. Heat rushed to her face almost instantly as she stared straight ahead at the fan’s shoulder, refusing to make eye contact. In her peripherals, she saw Rumi looking at her hand like it had personally betrayed her. Mira seemed just as confused, one hand still holding a pen from signing an album.
At least they both seemed just as shocked as Zoey, which was slightly comforting. Not that it made the entire situation any less mortifying.
The venue was silent for all of two seconds before it exploded in noise. The organizers were instantly at the front of the table, pushing back fans and ushering them out, much to their audible discontent. Zoey could hear bits and pieces from the crowd, ranging from pure confusion (what just happened?) to those hungry for gossip (wait, so are the rumors actually true?). Bobby, who had been off to the side, just had his head in his hands.
Silently, Rumi stood up. Reaching over to grab both of their hands, she tugged the two of them to their feet as she dragged them towards the back exit. Ignoring the shouted commands from the event organizers and management team, the three of them swiftly ran out the back, all the way back to the penthouse.
***
(Later that night, after Zoey had admonished them with words and bites, they laid quietly in bed, wrapped around each other. Tomorrow, they would be torn apart by their management team, but for tonight, they could ignore all of that.
“So…” Zoey finally said. “Are you two gonna acknowledge it?”
“Hm?” Rumi mumbled sleepily, lips pressed against a freckle on Zoey’s collarbone.
Zoey shook her head, more amused than anything. “The whole slapping my ass in front of a live studio audience thing?”
“Don’t put it that way,” Mira groaned. “You’re making us sound like exhibitionists.”
Zoey laughed. Quiet. Soft. “Is that not what you were going for?”
“No, definitely not. I just couldn’t help myself,” Mira muttered with the barest hints of shame at the same time Rumi said,
“It was instinct.”
The next few seconds were filled with the sounds of Zoey’s giggles, joined in by Mira as Rumi’s lips curled against Zoey’s skin.
“You guys are ridiculous,” Zoey whispered but her tone was fond, and the skin crinkled by her eyes and there really was no bite to her words.)
***
As expected, the next couple days were filled with scoldings from their management team, modules on decorum, and formal apologies. The public forums had exploded into chaos, barely controlled by Celine, who had been called back from her vacation early to deal with the mess.
(“I had to leave early to deal with you three acting like a couple of horny teens? Are you serious?
Celine had been less than amused. Rumi had looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her up while Mira and Zoey had tried to discreetly tiptoe out of the door. Celine had let Zoey sneak out before her arm shot out to grab Mira by the sleeve and yank her back inside, the door slamming shut as it sealed the two girls’ doom.)
Despite Rumi and Mira exiting Celine’s office, looking like they had braved yet another battle with Gwi-Ma, their habits still hadn’t died down. Even right after leaving the office, Rumi’s hand still instinctively reached over to pat Zoey’s butt before she realized what she was doing.
Which, at this point… well. Zoey accepted that this just wasn’t something that was going to be changing anytime soon. They would just have to work around it.
And so came Bobby’s solution.
Curtains.
Between each of them during fanmeets.
Whatever, Zoey thought.
If it works, it works, right?
Right?
… right?
(It didn’t work. Fanmeets were eventually cancelled for the rest of the year).