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rumi vicariously fucking zoey via being sandwiched between mira and zoey, one of zoey's legs hooked around rumi's hip, rumi's cock rutting up against zoey's toned stomach and leaking pre-cum onto her as she's pushed against zoey again and again, eyes either glued to zoey's tits as they bounce or honed in on the cute faces she's making
mira is behind rumi and actually fucking zoey with a rather lengthy strap while kissing rumi's neck, telling rumi what a good girl she is for taking care of their maknae
how she wants to see zoey beg to cum on rumi's cock
zoey is barely able to string together a sentence long enough to encourage rumi to move faster, thrust deeper, she wants, she wants, she wants
rumi nodding eagerly, like a teenager during their first time, holding onto zoey with reverent hands and worshiping fingers as she grinds her cock harder, faster, against zoey's stomach, heart pounding in her ears as she feels mira's tempo match her own
zoey is moaning rumi's name and mira is whispering such filthy words against her ear that rumi cums without meaning to, sticky-hot splashes against zoey's stomach and lower ribs
"was zoey's cunt that good that you couldn't hold it in?"
Zoey started the live stream as usual, Mira and Rumi joining her, as they had nothing better to do.
Somehow the conversation gets to food, maybe talking about how wildly different breakfast can be all around the world, especially in the US.
Chat asks the harmless question of Zoey’s fave American breakfast:
“When I was getting use to the food I think eggs may have been it. You can cook them so many ways and season them how you like.”
The she mumbled, “Also I didn’t want a sugar rush at school, or crash.”
Chat: over easy or scrambled?
Zoey: actually sunny-side up, most of the time.
And Rumi and Mira are just looking at her like… wtf do you mean by over-easy or scrambled?
Mira asks this, wanting Zoey to clear up the confusion.
“What do you mean over-easy? Zoey, do not tell me you just ate raw eggs and nothing else.”
Zoey took a breath about to speak, then Rumi knitted her eyebrows together, “How do you scramble an egg? Do you put it in a blender?!”
Zoey just sighed, getting up.
Pointing to Mira, saying “Sunny side up.”
Making the tip of Mira’s ears burn pink. Zoey getting right behind Rumi, grasping her shoulders. Zoey chaotically grabbed Rumi’s shoulders and shook her.
Huffing when she let go of Rumi who was left spinning, falling over into Mira’s lap. Zoey proudly and promptly pointed to Rumi saying, “Scrambled eggy.”
prompt for ff! trans!Rumi waking up to a handjob with gn!reader cuddling her as the big spoon on Christmas morning
2/2: sorry, I forgot to establish beforehand that Rumi and reader have established that she would be fine with a Christmas gift that morning (she gave consent the night before, so it is not non-con)
Thank you for clarifying this part of it!
Rumi hummed softly, bucking her hips forward as she nuzzled the pillow. Warmth was pressed against her back as she stirred, gasping as a hand squeezed around her cock. She groaned lowly. “Fuck, Y/N.”
They smiled and kissed her neck happily. “Good morning, Rumi,” Y/N cooed, nuzzling her shoulder. “Does this feel good?”
“Yeah. Yeah it fucking does,” She moaned softly as she bucked her hips again. Their hand squeezed gently as the thumb ran over the slit. “Fuck, need more though. Ride me. Please ride me, Baby,” She begged.
“God you’re so damn cute when you beg,” They moaned as they moved over her, kissing her lovingly.
The AO3 version of the cracking Celine's egg fic is rapidly ballooning into a four part ... *thing* exploring everyone's gender bc Huntrix and Celine are all trans in that universe.
(Help me this thing is turning into another big project)
But a summary of everyone's gender thoughts is;
Rumi
Has always been a girl, even when Celine thought she was a boy
Was put on puberty blockers when she was twelve, started HRT at 15
Logically knows she's trans but money and a very supportive Celine insulated her from so many problems that she has a hard time actually... connecting with other trans people
Mira
Had to be a boy for most of her childhood.
Was able to mostly ignore her gender issues until puberty started and she started spiraling
Has an older brother who isn't supportive but also doesn't want to see their father beat the shit out of his little brother
Used to hang out near a gay bar where an older trans woman gave Mira pills to help with her situation (it was estradiol but she never actually... explained that?)
Mira, mostly out of desperation, shows up at a Sunlight Entertainment open audition near her school
Started HRT at 16
Zoey
Was mostly okay with being a girl so never really thought much about their gender until they were already an idol and suddenly there was professional obligations to be the cute Girl
Still didn't think much about their gender because they've known Rumi and Mira for years, since they were all awkward teenagers. And they they know they're not like Rumi or Mira so that has to mean they're cis.
But the obligation to be a Girl starts wearing on them though nothing clicks until they're at a fan event and a nonbinary fan starts talking about how their new album helped them accept the idea that maybe they didn't have to be a boy or a girl. Or maybe they could be both.
And Zoey just goes ... ... ... huh
Celine
Is the absolute king of repression and has, for the last 30+ years, been boxing up all of his gender thoughts and boxed them up and shoved them deep, deep, deep into a closet
He is a woman because that's just what was chosen for him just like how he is a hunter becuase that was chosen for him and how he is an idol becuase that was chosen for him
Something in him finally cracks after he gets short listed for some lifetime excellence in leadership award for being a Female CEO at the top of a male dominated field
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(Context: Vaguely connected to the original trans!Celine posts I made where the girls were getting increasingly frustrated with Celine who keeps making egg comments and refusing to hatch. Basically, Celine has showed up at an industry event dolled up as a last ditch effort to show everyone that she is a woman and that she is fine and happy with that fact)
Rumi and Mira could tell Celine had said something truly unfortunate to Zoey from the way Celine abruptly turned on her heels – heels! Rumi was still trying to wrap her head around it; the last time she had seen Celine in heels was…never. Not even for red carpet events where it was expected; Celine had always worn her button-down, business slacks, brown loafer combination that had always seemed so much more comfortable than a dress from some French fashion house that Rumi could never really pronounce – and fled out a side door in a controlled march that had somehow still seemed elegant.
Their Zoey crumbled.
Not in a way that anyone else in attendance would be able to tell – they had been in this industry, circled by these same sharks, for far too long – but to them was practically a scream from across the room; fingers twisting her sidelocks, shoulders curling inward before snapping straight with a deep breath.
Like a pack, they abandoned their previous, riveting, conversations from different sides of the atrium to go to their maknae and like a single organism, they sling their arms around Zoey’s shoulders, make their excuses, and shuffle out to an out-of-the-way bathroom jammed next to the hotel’s industrial laundry room.
Under flickering fluorescent lights that made the shadows on Mira’s face dance, she crossed her arms. “Okay, what did Celine say? And don’t say ‘nothing’ or ‘it’s fine’ because you look like she tore the head off your favorite turtle pillow.”
Through sniffles and the large, heaving breaths of someone desperate to not start crying, they get a word-for-word recap of Zoey’s entire conversation with Celine – “I’m dressed like a woman because I am a woman. You should try it sometime,” Mira repeated in disbelief. “She actually said that?” – the words spilling out of their lips faster and faster as though it hurt to keep them inside.
“And then!” Zoey brandished a make-up wipe at Rumi as though it were one of their knives. The damp edges brushed against Rumi's nose. “She just walks away! Like excuse me, if you’re going to be emotionally devastating, you at least should stick around to be yelled at!”
“Zoey, I’m – I’m so, so sorry she said that,” Rumi said. Her face burned in second-hand humiliation; her pale, white patterns stark against her rapidly reddening skin. “I never thought – If I knew she would be like that –.”
A snort of laughter erupted from Mira.
Rumi and Zoey snap their heads back to stare at her.
“Sorry, not funny.” Mira bit her lip though her shoulders trembled from her suppressed laughs. “Just, wow. She even freaks out like you, Rumi.”
Second-hand embarrassment and humiliation rapidly cooled to first-hand irritation.
“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that she lashes out when she’s dealing with personal issues, just like you,” Mira says. She pitched her voice so high she squeaked. “It’s not about your insecurities, Mira!”
The sharp, offended breath Rumi inhaled echoed across the linoleum walls.
“I – I do not sound like that!” Rumi pouted. Behind her, Zoey began to giggle. “And you -- you’re ignoring the context!”
“What I’m getting at –” Mira held up her hands as she threw a sympathetic smile towards Zoey. “-- is that Celine is clearly going through something and she probably didn’t mean what she said. I mean, the dress? The necklace? Don’t get me wrong, she looked hot, but that is not what she wants to be wearing and we all know it.”
Rumi winced and leaned back against the sink. “We might have gotten on her case a little too much tonight and you ended up getting hit with it all. Sorry, Zoey.”
“Yeah. Sorry, Zoey,” Mira repeated.
“It’s fine,” is what Zoey wanted to say. It's the first words that popped into their head; is what they would have said if they weren’t trying this thing called ‘being honest’ and ‘voicing your problems out loud to people who care about you’ after the complete and unmitigated disaster that was The International Idol Awards (2025).
They took a deep breath and said, “I know Celine is probably dealing with Gender things and she treated the two of you really well but people get weird about people like me who aren’t a boy and aren’t a girl, you know? Like they can understand why someone would want to be a boy or why they want to be a girl. Like ‘girl’ and ‘boy’ are real to them.”
They scuffed their shoes against the floor. When they’d texted Celine a picture of them earlier, Celine had texted back to say they were ‘handsome’ and that the dark blue, crocodile leather was a good choice.
“But people like me, we just need to choose a box,” they said. They chew at their lower lip. “And I don’t want to think Celine is like that but…maybe she is?”
Through the walls, the thump-thump of the rumbling laundry machines and the quiet, muffled sounds of cleaning staff talking; the lights buzzed loudly as they mulled it over.
“I’m going to talk to Celine,” Rumi said with a sigh. “Zoey, you don’t have to come and I completely understand if you don’t want anything to do with her right now. Mira, can you get Zoey back to our room? Just…try to relax, the both of you. I’ll be back once everything’s been sorted out and I get an apology out of Celine.”
Zoey blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
Rumi blinked back. She opened her mouth to speak again.
“So you’ve decided you’re speaking to Celine alone?” Mira said. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “We’re just…not getting a say in this? Zoey isn’t getting a say in this?”
“No, that’s not what I–” Rumi let out a frustrated sigh. She rubbed the back of her neck. “Of course Zoey gets a say. If Zoey wants to come, they can come. If they want to go back to the hotel room, I can talk to Celine alone, Mi-ra.”
Mira looked at Zoey; Zoey looked at Mira.
“That is not what you said,” they said together.
Before Rumi could start to protest, yes that is exactly what she said, or, no, that’s exactly what she meant, learn to read between the lines –, Zoey dragged both her and Mira in for a group hug.
“Of course I’m coming along to talk to Celine,” they said. “If she’s been a secret transphobe for the last twenty years, I want to know and –.” Their eyes widened; a sort of wild glee filled them. “-- And if tonight is the night Celine’s egg gets smashed open like a drug PSA, I want to be there for it. You will not take this from me.”
They release Rumi and Mira and bounce back several steps before they drive their fist into their open palm with an audible smack.
“And do you know how long I’m going to be able to guilt her for this?” They grinned, wide and full of teeth. “Uncensored. Zoey. Rap Album. She’ll have to say yes this time.”
//
They stood in front of the door to Celine’s suite for an uncomfortably long length of time as they listened to the sound of someone’s – Celine, but their brains refused to connect the sounds to their mentor – jagged breathing. Their previous bravado at the idea of marching up to Celine’s room to demand answers was swiftly forgotten as they listened through the door to something that seemed entirely too personal to be happening in a corporate, five-star hotel.
“You knock, you’re her kid,” Zoey hissed at Rumi, whose hand had been hovering above the door for the last five minutes, approaching and drawing back the entire time.
“We’re basically all her kids!”
“Not me.” Mira leaned against the doorframe. “I’m a stray dog she found in a back alley, remember?”
Rumi almost growled. “Oh, don’t you start with that again, Mira. You’re the one who basically started crying when she invited you to celebrate Parent’s Day with us.”
Mira threw a lazy punch at Rumi. Rumi jumped back. The back of Rumi’s hand hit the door.
The sound rang through the empty hallway.
They stared at the closed door which didn’t open.
“…Maybe she didn’t hear?” Zoey suggested with a nervous smile.
The sudden silence from inside the room as the room held its breath told them that they weren’t that lucky.
Rumi cleared her throat. And then cleared it again.
“Celine, are you in there?” She asked. “It’s me, Rumi. And Mira and Zoey. We just wanted to talk? About what happened downstairs. We’re not mad or anything –”
A sharp elbow dug into her ribs.
“-- We’re mostly not mad,” She amended. She threw a dirty look at Mira, who gave her an entirely too innocent look. “So can you let us in?”
Her ear, practically pressed flush against the door, heard a sharp, strangled exhale before the room fell silent again; Zoey looked at her, brows furrowed, and Rumi shook her head – No, she didn’t hear Celine get up.
“Well, shit,” Mira muttered.
She glanced around the hall. They were lucky most of the guests were still downstairs and it was late enough that anyone not invited to the event was likely already asleep. That would not be the case if they were stuck out here for much longer.
“What if we said we were mad? Would that guilt her into opening the door?” Mira asked.
“I just told her we weren’t!”
“Both of you, lower your voices!” Zoey shouted in an urgent whisper. They rubbed their temple. “Maybe…maybe it doesn’t help calling Celine Celine if she’s having gender problems. He. They?”
“Well what am I supposed to call Celine? She only ever let me call her Celine!” Rumi ran her braid through her hands.
“Say appa, say appa” Zoey said. “You said that she liked it that one time you called her that, right?”
Rumi sucked in her lip. “She didn’t hate it. She looked embarrassed? But I think she was smiling so…”
She dithered more in front of the door before Zoey, as they rolled their eyes, nudged Rumi aside and knocked loudly.
“Appa! Can we come in, please?” They asked.
From the room, they heard a muffled, “Just come in. Rumi has the spare keycard.”
Seriously, Mira mouthed at Rumi as their leader fumbled with her clutch and swiped the keycard across the card reader. The little red light blinked green and they hurried inside.
The room was dark and Rumi yelped as she almost tripped over Celine’s heels, left in the entranceway where she must have haphazardly removed them earlier. It smelled like someone had sprayed the room with air freshener marketed as the refreshing scent of a garden in bloom if a cask of whiskey had exploded over the flowerbeds.
Neither of which was Celine’s preferred scent.
Celine herself was seated at the end of the bed, in a shapeless bathrobe with the belt tied loosely around her waist. Her back was straight in a way that could not have been comfortable and her hands rested perfectly on her knees. Her arms had to be hurting.
"Zoey, I would like to apologize for my words and actions this evening," Celine said with the kind of smoothness that only came when someone practiced the same line dozens of times. "You've told me that you aren't a man or a woman and it was wrong of me to suggest otherwise. I completely understand if you're not comfortable with me as your--"
"Oh my god, Celine," Zoey said. Hands on their hips, they looked up at the ceiling. "What is with both you and Rumi thinking I never want to talk to you again?"
Mira doesn't miss the way Celine swallowed at the sound of her own name. She tapped Zoey's foot with her own.
"Look, it sucked and it hurt." Zoey stuffed their hands into their pockets. "And you're sorry. So…I'm over it. Let's talk about you."
"I don't know what you mean. There's nothing about me to talk about," Celine said. She did not look at them.
"Celine…" This time, Celine wasn't able to hide her flinch to her own name and Rumi trailed off; she shot a look at Mira -- help me, it said.
With the kind of slowness usually reserved for injured street cats, Mira shuffled closer to her mentor until she reached the edge of the bed. Carefully, as she watched for any sign of discomfort out of the corner of her eye, Mira sat down.
"We don't want to push," she said. Her fingers plucked at the bedsheets. "But, well, gender is kind of a bitch, right?"
"Language." The reprimand was automatic.
Mira wasn't sure their mentor was even aware they'd said it.
She scooted closer. "When I was, um -- when everyone was still calling me a boy and using my deadname, I hated it. It wasn't me. Every time I heard it, it sucked. I felt like my insides were being carved empty. And it just felt…hollow. Cold. Like all the time."
Their mentor sat frozen next to her; their chest moved so little it almost looked like they had stopped breathing.
"I didn't want to…" Her throat closed up and she coughed into her arm. Tears burned the edges of her eyes and she wiped swiftly at them -- this wasn't supposed to be about her.
A silk handkerchief, monogramed with a calligraphy 'C' in gold thread, is pressed into her hand; she mumbled a thank you as she dabbed at her eyes, her mascara staining the cloth black. It was probably ruined now.
"Take your time," their mentor said, quietly.
Mira took a breath to steady herself before she continued. "I didn't want to feel the way I was feeling everyday. And I would never want to make someone else feel like that. And I would really appreciate it -- if I was hurting someone -- if I was told. So I could make it better."
For a long while, it seemed as if their mentor would stay silent, barely breathing; a waiting game of who would crack first. Then --
"Celine's a stage name," their mentor said, quietly. Their gaze was locked onto their hands. "I chose it, if you can believe it. I didn't feel comfortable with the name my parents gifted me and Celine was foreign so…"
Their shoulders rose and fell weakly.
"It didn't mean anything. Not like -- not like that other name."
"And…that changed?" Rumi asked, gently. She had moved closer as well, sitting on the counter across from the bed.
Their mentor nodded.
"Yes," they said.
They looked up and seemed surprised that their girls weren't looking at them with disgust. Fraction by fraction, their back bent, their shoulders slumped. Their fingers dug into the fabric above their knees.
"I never felt right," they whispered. "My entire life, it felt like I was just failing to be the girl everyone knew I was. Even when I was an idol, it didn't -- I was on billboard ads, magazines -- it still didn't fix me."
Rumi leaned forward, eyes wide and suspiciously wet.
"The more people who thought I was pretty, the worse it got," they said. "And Celine became… I suppose Celine became another reminder of how badly I was failing at being a girl."
"Did you ever wish you looked… different?" Rumi's words slipped out, quiet and heavy like the morning fog that rolled over their mountain hanok almost every morning.
For the first time that night, their mentor's attention seemed to focus. The light in their eyes sharpened and they raised their head to look at Rumi, returning her to the center of their world.
A frown pulled at the corner of their lips.
Rumi looked away.
"Do you still feel that way, Rumi?" There was no judgement in their voice but Rumi heard it anyways.
"This isn't about me, Cel--." She pressed her lips together into a thin line; sucked at the back of her teeth to seal them tight.
Mira joined their mentor in staring at Rumi with a vague air of disapproval.
"Rumi." They both said with identical cadence and tone.
Three months ago, Mira wouldn't have been caught dead agreeing with any of their mentor's positions, no matter how well-thought or common sense it was. Rumi desperately wished they could return to that time right after the Idol Awards -- just for this one, singular moment.
Ugh, she thought. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.
"Maybe a little," she admitted. "Sometimes."
Their mentor and Mira opened their mouths; Rumi rushed to fill the silence before they could get started. "Oh, don't you two turn this around on me. I am not the only person here with insecurities. And unlike some people--" she glanced at their mentor. "--I am willing to acknowledge them and talk about them with people who care about me."
Rumi ignored the we are talking about this later looks that Mira and Zoey gave her in favor of stubbornly looking at their mentor until their mentor almost looked embarrassed.
"I was an idol in the nineties, Rumi," their mentor said, unhelpfully. "We all wished we looked different."
Zoey ignored the frustrated groans from Rumi and Mira. "Seonsaengnim, could you at least tell us what to call you?"
"Don't say Celine," Mira added.
Their mentor shut their mouth; their teeth click together with an audible clack.
"Maybe I could keep calling you appa?" Rumi asked hopefully after their mentor had stayed silent for a painfully long time. "At least until you figure it out?"
"I…don't hate the idea," her appa said, begrudgingly. His cheeks turned faintly pink. "And if the two of you want to call me that too, I won't stop you."
Mira leaned against their appa, her shoulder pressed against his. The bed dipped behind them and Zoey's arms snake around their appa's waist, their head buried against his shoulder. Rumi joined a moment later with a hug so tight the breath left her appa's chest.
"Okay, okay," their appa said, his voice overcome from more than just the weight of two adult children on his lungs.
"Accept the hugs, appa," Mira said, the only one not currently smothering him. "There is no escape."
Rumi felt her appa nod; his chin pressing briefly against the top of her braid. "Yeah, appa. Zoey and I deserve this after the year we've had."
"I also deserve a solo album, right, appa?" Zoey pressed further into the hug until they draped themselves over their appa's shoulder.
"We can have a discussion." His face had turned a dark pink. He looked happier than he'd been for weeks.
It lasted for all of three minutes before he sighed and shifted underneath them, trying to straighten his spine to look presentable. He only gave up when they tightened their grip and invaded even more of his space.
"We should also have a discussion about how the three of you are planning on referring to me in public," he said to a chorus of whines. "Because if you three insist on calling me appa in public, it will raise questions."
They could feel the gears turn in his head from the way his fingers started to tap against his knee.
"PR needs to be informed so a public statement can be written and approved by the time --"
"Appa?"
"Yes, Rumi?"
Rumi finally extracted herself from the group hug. She placed her hands over her appa's shoulders and stared into his eyes.
"Please stop ruining the moment."
//
(Note: This somehow ended up at over 3k words. I can't explain it. I also love this AU so much I have another fic that's from Celine's POV, tentatively called Snakeskin, that, if it works out, will be Celine's process of coming out over the span of 30 years interspaced with outside media like fake articles and social media posts)
I love this idea that Celine justifies that Rumi and Mira are girls because the honmoon chose them that makes them girls no matter what any bigots or anyone else might say.
But in a double edged sword, she also uses that to justify remaining a woman, because obviously the honmoon wouldn't have chosen her otherwise.
Ah Celine who can find a way to blender himself herself in new and fascinating ways.
The girls who have noticed that Celine seems to...not be entirely cis? And them mentioning it at some point about if she's ever considered it.
And Celine saying something like, "I'm a hunter."
Zoey (who's come out as nonbinary) being like, "aaaannnd???"
"Hunters are always women. I was chosen to be a hunter. Therefore, I am a woman."
And all three of the girls look at each other like the fuck is she going on about?
Anon, this is incredibly painful and also 1000% how I see it playing out.
Celine who has repressed and repressed her entire life; who's career was made in such a gendered field and who's success was contingent on performing gender Correctly (and Celine is good at it; Celine knows how to play this game)
And now Celine is nearing 50 and she's raised a child and she's had a whole separate career outside of being an idol
(And I imagine that a CEO Celine would have had interviews and articles and possibly even awards about how impressive a *woman* is breaking into a male-dominated industry)
Celine's entire image of herself has been wrapped up in femininity and womanhood that I think she probably has an identity crisis over who she is if she's a man.
(Plus yes, her entire brand up to this point would be Celine, perfectly cis, perfectly female. So what's the point?)
(And her kids being like, "the point is you're less miserable???")
And I see this all colliding at some industry event (possible one where Celine is getting like some *women* in business award) and she's dressed ultra-femme as a last ditch effort to prove to herself that this doesn't bother her and she's a woman and she has no problem being a woman.
And the moment the event is over and she has a moment to herself, she's imploding because oh god, this feels awful and she can't handle it, and no part of herself felt right and normal and it was so so miserable.
(And the girls are on the other side of the door just hearing this because they knew this breakdown was going to happen at some point and they could tell how unhappy Celine was the entire time leading up to and through the event.)
(In the dark, surrounded by his kids, Celine wipes at his face and says, "I think I hate being a woman.")
