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Zoey realised she was different on the first day of second grade.
She’s always been a little…awkward?
It was OK during kindergarten, she managed to find someone to play with most of the time.
People seemed to like her.
In first grade she even had a best friend… for a while.
Jessica.
They sat and talked on top of the jungle gym every day. She made Jessica laugh, and shared her snacks. Let Jessica have the blue gummy worms even though they were Zoey’s favourite.
Until she got too much.
Talked too loud. Too long.
Until Jessica got bored of her.
After that she noticed she always seemed to end up the odd one out when it came to class projects or teams at recess. How kids would scatter if she approached them on the playground. But it was no big deal. She sometimes liked to play alone anyway.
Her dad had thought a new school would mean a fresh start.
The first half of the morning had gone well. She’d kept quiet. Looked out the window, doodled absent mindedly as the teacher droned on and on about math her mom had taught her to do two years ago. But she hadn't drawn attention to herself, she hadn’t even put her hand up to answer questions she knew the answer to.
So when she set her Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle lunchbox on the table and was met with stares and a few sniggers her stomach clenched tight.
All the other kids had plain lunch boxes.
Odd one out again, Zoey.
When she opened the lid and smiled at the familiar scent of bulgogi, the girl who had reluctantly sat next to her (there were no other seats left) pinched her nose and gagged theatrically.
“Ewww, that stinks!”
Heat flooded her face. At her last school she had the school lunch but she hated it. Hated the congealed mac ‘n cheese and rubbery chicken nuggets. Half the time all she managed to get down was the carton of milk.
So her mom (who had seemed strangely hesitant) had agreed to make her a packed lunch.
Now she knows why.
Everyone is staring. The previously rambunctious lunchroom eerily silent.
She’s been noticed.
And not in the right way. She has some pokemon cards in her backpack… she was going to use them to make a friend later. That would have worked… but now…
“The new girl has stinky Japanese food-”
She blinks back tears, humiliation half choking her.
“It’s…it’s not Japanese, it’s-”
The little girl picked up her lunchbox, leaning away like Zoey’s very presence would contaminate her. “I’m moving before it stinks me up too.”
The other kids follow suit, cramming themselves onto the limited spaces on the benches of the next table, turning around to glance at her, smothering giggles and sharing looks, nudging and pointing.
She eats her lunch alone.
She spends recess alone.
She’d ask her mom to make her a PB&J tomorrow.
God, she hates pep rallies.
It was always so fucking loud.
While she knew she didn’t have to go, could have gone down to study hall, could be writing in her notebook happily right now, her homeroom teacher had said she’d hoped to see her there, that she “really should start participating in school life if she wanted to make friends”.
Her new headphones were helping some but people were giving her weird looks.
Not that that was anything new.
A hard poke in the back of her head makes her jump.
“Hey, Choi! What are you listening to? You too good for us or something?”
Keep your head down. Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.
Her headphones are snatched off her head and suddenly the cacophony of sounds overwhelm her.
The band, the cheering, the medley of conversations all overlapping. Too many people. Too close. Too much.
“Give them back!”
The boy behind her holds one of the ear pieces to his ear, laughs, tosses them to his friend.
“Dude, It’s that weird Chinese shit again!”
“It’s not Chinese, it’s-” She hates how her voice shakes, hates how she’s crying already, hates how her thoughts are running away, hates how all the sound makes it feel like her head is going to explode.
She digs her nails into her palm. Hard. The pain helps.
“Whatever, it’s all the same, fucking gibberish.”
He drops the headphones onto the bleacher steps with a clatter. Zoey scrambles up the bleachers and grabs them from between their feet, crams them on her head and flees, their jeering laughter mixing with the tumultuous noise echoing round her head.
She hardly knows where she’s running to, breathless and sobbing, snot and tears dripping down her face.
She ends up in the corner of the band room, tucked away behind the drum kit.
She digs her nails into her palms even harder, rocks herself in time to her favourite Sunlight Sisters song and starts to feel the tension seep away.
She feels something warm trickle down her wrist, and looks down at her left palm.
She’s broken skin.
Again.
RainbowOctavian reposted
Huntrix’s Zoey’s First Solo Album: Manufactured or Brutally Honest?
Zoey Choi has always been the darling of the K-pop industry. Her rap skills are legendary, walking that line between cute and fierce with precision. Huntrix wouldn’t be Huntrix without their bubbly Maknae but now it seems the bubbles have popped.
Despite a childhood spent in California it seemed that she had fully embraced her Korean heritage but her latest album speaks of her feelings of conflict between two heritages, of feeling trapped by a world that doesn’t really see her-
@RainbowOctavian
This article is total bs. Her lyrics speak to all of us with dual heritage! I’ve been listening on repeat!
@photocard_broker
She’s obsessed with trying to impress an American audience.She should remember who her *real* fans are!
@no_skip_discography
It’s just american popslop with the occasional rap verse, hardly ground breaking!
@ZoeyloverKin7
Zoey’s lyrics speak for so many of us who feel like we never fit in no matter how hard we try!
@Jinus_left_eyebrow
She’s always been the odd one out, always leaves signings early too…probably thinks she’s too good for us.
@everrioelle
God forbid an artist writes music about her own life experience! Ya’ll are so fucking mean-
Zoey jumps when Rumi shuts the screen of her laptop with a gentle snap.
“Yeobo...I think that’s enough.”
It’s then she realises her hands are shaking, clenched into her lap so tight her knuckles are white.
“Take a deep breath for me.” Rumi’s hands find hers, ease her fingers open.
She kneels down and swings Zoey’s desk chair round so they’re face to face.
“You have more talent than Mira and I combined-”
“That’s not true-” She murmurs huskily, unshed tears blurring her vision.
“Shush. Your lyrics are what pulls us all together. You are the spark that ignites us. All those shit-heads are just jealous.” Rumi swipes at the tears trickling down her cheeks with her thumbs as she cups Zoey's face. “The people that matter see you, they hear you.”
Zoey fights the urge to pull away from Rumi’s hands and grab at her own arms, to fold herself in, to try and squeeze away the ache in the center of her chest-
“I just…I just can’t…it’s never-”
This has been going on for years. Pretty much ever since they debuted.
Sure they all face scrutiny; their weight, their fashion sense, Rumi’s vocals, Mira’s choreo…
But they save that extra special sting for Zoey; They jump on her whenever she stumbles over some Korean, pointing out that she’s not perfectly fluent, that her lyrics are too American, that she’s too loud, then too quiet, too different, then trying too hard to fit in-
Too much...but not enough.
Rumi just pulls her in for a hug.
“Come on, Mira’s made bimimbap-”
“With extra-”
“Yes, with extra bamboo shoots.”
Despite everything…she always has her girls.
Zoey would be the first to admit...she was a bit of a freak.
Sure, her girls were kinky; Rumi was a bit of a late bloomer but she was finding her feet rapidly, and despite her tough girl, bad-bitch persona, Mira had a penchant for being on her knees and being the subbiest good girl to ever exist.
But Zoey was kinky, kinky.
An out and out masochist, she loved pain.
It was the one way guaranteed to switch off her brain. She could give into the sensation of leather cracking against her skin, of the bite of a clamp, the sting of a slap, and she would sink into a warm buzz that wrapped her up and just let her feel for a while.
She also loved trying new things, chasing the next sensation, the next high-
And as Rumi and Mira had banned her from social media for the time being this was the perfect opportunity to explore something she’s had her eye on for a while.
“Wax? Like…candle wax?” Rumi looks confused but curious at the same time, an expression Zoey was becoming all too familiar with as they introduced her to new levels of debauchery.
God, what a delight it was to corrupt her.
“Isn’t that…dangerous?”
Zoey pulls out her notebook. The new leatherbound one Mira had bought her for birthday and had been strictly reserved for freaky shit.
“Not if you use the right kind of candles, and have the right safety measures in place. Like any kind of pain play, you just have to minimize the risk and do your research.” She cracks the spine of her notebook and hands it to Mira. “And boy, have I done my research.”
Mira reads over the five pages of notes then hands it to Rumi.
“I’m down. Rumi?”
Rumi bites her lip. “I’ll watch and help out, but I think I’d be happier if you take the lead on this one, Mira.”
“Cool.” Mira turns to her with an expectant smirk. “I take it you’ve already ordered the candles.”
Zoey ducks her head and blushes.
They know her so well.
“Yesterday. They’ll be here this afternoon.”
Mira leans forward and presses a fond kiss to Zoey’s forehead then gets up with a slow stretch, rolling her shoulders, a focused look on her face that sets Zoey’s pulse racing.
“I’ll go get the towels sorted. We don’t need another set of sheets ruined.”
Zoey’s room was her safe space.
She’d painted it herself; gentle greens and blues, carefully stenciling her favourite marine animals here and there. With the muted lighting it often felt like she was sitting in the middle of an aquarium.
It was the sanctuary she retreated to when things were too much. A port in the storm...but her girls were the anchor that kept her safe.
The soy candles that Zoey had ordered arrived just after lunch. Mira and Rumi had practically pushed Zoey into the bathroom to shower, ignoring her protestations, insisting that she leave them to it while they worked together to set everything up.
When she slips back into her room the candles–purple, blue, and green–were already lit. She couldn’t wait to see how the colours looked splashed across her skin… She’d ordered the brightest ones wanting to look like a slightly unhinged piece of art by the time they were done.
The small flames send warm flickering shadows dancing up the walls and it gives the room a cosy but intimate feeling. The golden glow lights up Rumi’s features as she busies herself with adjusting the ropes attached to the corners of their four poster bed. Zoey smiles as she noticed that Rumi had chosen Zoey’s favourite–multicoloured hemp.
They really do love spoiling her.
How did she get so lucky?
A harsh rattle makes Zoey jump.
Mira is shaking the rest of a bag of ice into the small bucket on the bedside table. “Do you think we need more water?”
Zoey could count no less than five bottles chilling in the container. Despite her calm exterior, she could tell Mira was a little nervous. She didn’t blame her; this was possibly the riskiest pain play they’d engaged in so far.
“I think we’re good-” Rumi muses, smoothing one of the many towels covering the bed sheets flat before standing back with a satisfied sigh, clearly pleased with her work. As Zoey shuts the bathroom door closed behind her they finally notice her. Her heart flutters as both their faces split into almost identical eager grins.
Rumi pats the bed with a wink. “Come lie down, gongju-”
Zoey gives her hair one last rub with the towel and quickly ties it into a bun with the scrunchie on her wrist, noting Mira and Rumi’s hair was well out of the way too. The last thing any of them wanted was to have to explain to their hairdressers exactly why they needed an impromptu hair cut.
She starfishes onto the bed face first, giggling before splaying out her arms and legs ready for Rumi to restrain them. While Rumi works on her ankles Zoey peers back over her shoulder to watch Mira pick up a candle and blow it out, tipping a few drops onto her wrist to test the temperature.
She hisses a little in pain and blows against her skin until the wax solidifies before scraping it away with her nail.
“We’re good to go.”
Rumi hums softly to herself as she loops the restraints round Zoey's wrists.
“Not too tight?” She murmurs, slipping a finger between the rope and Zoey’s skin.
She tugs against the restraints, testing the give in the hemp.
“Mmm no it’s perfect…” her eyes flutter shut as Rumi’s fingers scratch soothingly at her scalp. She lets a few quiet moments pass, basking in the tenderness before she gives her butt an alluring wiggle.
“Oil me up, baby!”
She bites back another giggle at Rumi and Mira’s joint affectionate but mildly irritated sigh.
“Rumi?”
“On it.”
The coconut oil was already warm and Zoey gives a little sigh as Rumi spreads it evenly over her shoulders, back, ass cheeks and thighs; wide slow strokes that make her feel like she’s melting into the bed.
“Mmm that feels nice-”
“I’m sure it does, sweetheart…” Rumi trails off and for a split second Zoey half wishes she was tied up on her front so she could see what was going on. But sometimes not knowing was all part of the thrill.
There were a few more moments of gentle silence, then Rumi’s diligent fingers begin to tease up her inner thighs.
“Oh.. R-Rumi…please-”
Mira and Rumi laugh and Zoey feels a familiar heat pool warm and syrupy low in her belly.
“Begging? Already?” Rumi teases, one finger dipping between Zoey’s spread legs. “That didn’t take long.”
Zoey squeezes her eyes shut and bites her lip, trying to suppress the whimper that wanted to spill out as Rumi’s fingers barely dip between her labia, gathering slick, then drag up to Zoey’s already twitching clit.
“Always so needy. You’re so wet for us and we’ve barely even started.” Rumi’s voice was low and shaky, clearly affected, her fingers pressing and circling.
Zoey moans softly and tries to grind down on her teasing fingers, whining as Rumi withdraws them, leaving a rapidly cooling trail of slick on her thighs as she slid them away and stepped back.
Mira tuts somewhat dismissively. “Can’t say I’m surprised. She always gets like this when she knows a little pain is coming…don’t you, Zo?”
Zoey licks her lips, mouth suddenly dry. Read to filth in 0.2 seconds.
Mira's nails scrape sharply at her scalp and curl into the hair at the base of her neck, tipping her head back and holding Zoey’s gaze as she gasped at the sting. “I asked you a question. I expect a prompt answer.” She closes her fist even tighter and Zoey couldn’t help but let out a guttural moan as pain suffused with pleasure shoots down her spine. “You love it when we hurt you, don’t you?”
“Y-yes Ma’am.” she chokes out, eyes already stinging with tears.
Mira releases her grip and Zoey’s face flops back down into the pillows, muffling a broken whimper.
She tries unsuccessfully to press her thighs together, the anticipation of what was to come making her squirm. God, she’s throbbing.
She hears Mira blow out another candle, then a little intake of breath as she tests the wax against her own skin once again.
“Ready?”
Zoey takes a deep, steadying breath, forcing her tense muscles to relax.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The first splash drips down her shoulder.
She hisses at the burning sting of it, at the way it makes her skin tingle, back arching off the bed.
“Fuck, that’s so pretty-” Rumi whimpers, voice soft, full of awe, but dark with arousal.
The next splash loops over her other shoulderblade, and then dribbles down the centre of her back.
The third, splatters on her ass cheek, making her cry out.
She tries and fails to grind down onto the towels beneath her as the pleasure already tightening between her thighs demands she try to find some kind of relief.
But then… then she notices how it feels as the wax dries. How it makes her skin feel tight, how it pulls a little. It makes her shudder in all the wrong ways, but then another splash of warm stinging heat trickles over her thigh and the electric sting on her skin distracts her.
Mira goes back to her shoulders again… but the fuzziness Zoey has grown to cherish does not envelope her.
All she can focus on is the feeling of the wax as it dries, almost like a second skin but one that feels tight… unnatural.
Too much.
And… and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She was helpless as Mira drips patterns down her spine, splattering it on her hips, her thighs, her ass-
-and against her will, her brain drags her back to a long buried memory;
“Get it off! I hate it! I hate it!”
“It’s just sand– we’ll wash it off when we get home, put your seat belt on now-”
Her dad is getting angry. She has learned that when his voice sounds like that he is right on the edge of fully losing his temper with her.
She doesn’t care.
She’s rocking herself back and forth in the backseat of the car, trying desperately to dust the sand off her feet with a towel but the roughness of the sand between her toes just wouldn’t go away.
It feels so wrong.
“I told you to keep your damn water shoes on, this always happens.” Through her tears she sees her father slam his hand on the steering wheel. “We are not leaving this parking lot until your seatbelt is on.”
She is beyond hearing him.
She rubs frantically with the towel, snot dripping down over her lip.
The passenger door opens. The towel is wrenched from her. She is pushed back in her seat and the seatbelt clicks into place.
“That’s the last time I take you tidepooling. It’s a beach. There’s sand.”
The car starts with a lurch, and before the radio is turned on all the way up she hears her father mutter- “Absolutely pathetic.”
She can’t breathe, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t-
“Red!”
Zoey has never safeworded.
Has never needed to.
She doesn’t want to.
But she needs it to stop.
“Zoey, baby, you’re ok we've got you-” Even though it sounds far away, lost in the static crackle filling her brain, Zoey can hear that Mira’s voice is frantic. A few seconds later she’s dimly aware of Rumi’s now clammy fingers fumbling with the restraints at her wrists-
“Get it off, get it off, I need it off, please-”
“Shh, shh, it’s ok-”
But it wasn’t.
Everything was ruined.
She’s spoiled it. She’s lost her hiding place. Her retreat. The place she could run and hide when everything became too much.
Even her safe places weren’t safe. Not really.
And it wasn’t even the pain.
Zoey loves pain.
She begged for clamps on her nipples to be tightened, for her hair to be pulled while they fuck her, she loved the searing sting when Mira or lately Rumi welts her ass with a belt, relished the burn of a slap around the face, can fucking come from her pussy being spanked, but this–this– is the thing that tears it all down.
A few drops of wax cooling on her skin.
God. She really is pathetic.
A strange new sensation of oil soaked cloth draping over her back overwhelms her yet again, making her sob but in a matter of seconds the sickening feeling of the wax tightening on her skin eases as Rumi effortlessly wipes it away. She does it again, and again, and slowly, Zoey finds herself able to take a full breath again.
Mira soothes her heated skin with a cool compress; slow soothing strokes over her back and shoulders and ass and thighs as Zoey shudders and whimpers and tries to catch her breath.
“I’m sorry, I’m-”
“No. We don’t apologise for safe wording. You taught me that.” Rumi whispers, fingers sliding into Zoey’s and squeezing.
Slowly, so slowly, the frantic whirling in her head eases to a manageable hum.
They slowly sit her up, their arms supporting her, and have her sip at the bottle of blue powerade they always have ready for her.
She was still trembling.
“Zo, what happened, baby?” Mira’s voice is soft, but still tinged with worry.
Guilt rises like bile in Zoey’s throat.
“It felt..bad. Really…really bad.”
They sit in silence for a while. It’s almost too quiet really. As if reading her mind Mira stands and switches on the radio. Turns it down until it’s almost inaudible. Zoey feels another band around her chest loosen.
“It’s ok, Zo…we tried it…it’s not for you-” Rumi rubs soothingly at her back again and Zoey crumples into her side, face buried in the crook of her neck.
“No, you don’t understand-” She swallows, trying and failing to parse out the words.
They waited. Patient as ever. Always so patient with her.
“I was enjoying it, the hot wax was amazing…It was just after. I don’t like how it feels when it dries. How it goes tight. Feels… wrong.”
“So we don’t let it dry on your skin. We wipe it straight off.”
Mira says it with a shrug. So simple. so straight forward. She hadn’t even realised that it could be so… so easy for them to adapt for her.
“I just…. I don’t want to stop doing this.” She screws her eyes shut, and felt tears leak down her cheeks again. “It helps me so much when things get…get too much.” She pulls the blanket they'd draped around her shoulders tighter, fingers clutching at the soft material. “And even when I’m with you, doing this… I can’t escape… escape how my brain works.”
There are a few moments of stillness. Then Rumi squeezes her hand. “It’s… like how you wear shoes at the beach.”
Zoey’s eyes shoot open. Mira nods along sagely and adds–
“Sometimes we want to do stuff that has a risk. You do things to mitigate the risk so you can enjoy them. Like Rumi said, you love going to the beach, but you told us you hate the feeling of sand between your toes, right?”
Zoey nods, her heart doing somersaults.
“So you wear your water shoes.”
They see her.
They know her.
“You don’t stop doing something that brings you joy… you just put in a safety net.”
Zoey throws her arms around them in turn, pressing fierce kisses to both of their foreheads.
“I love you. I love you both so fucking much.”
Rumi and Mira wrap themselves around her. They don’t have to say it, she knows it in her very bones, they’ve proved it over and over just how much they love her.
But they say it anyway.
“Count them or it doesn’t count, Zoey.”
“Fuck you. T-three.”
Mira laughs and Rumi slips a finger under Zoey’s chin. Tips her gaze up, up, up. Zoey shivers at the glint of gold in her eye, at the way her pupils are entirely blown.
“Ooh, we’re feisty today. Maybe we should start over again.”
Zoey feels her cunt clench at the thought, a whimper slips from her lips, unbidden.
Oh she was so fucked.
Mira steps into Zoey’s field of vision, looks down the length of the cane in her hand.
The one they had specially made.
Just for Zoey.
She swishes it a few times, the sound makes Zoey want to whimper pathetically.
Rumi’s grip leaves her chin and she stands back up, one arm looping casually around Mira’s waist.
“What do you think, Mir?”
Zoey flinches as Mira steps behind her once again, gasps as the tip of the cane traces down her spine, sending tingles rippling across her skin.
“The thing is, Rumi…I think that’s exactly what our little pain slut wants.”
They really can see straight through her huh?
The cane cracks down again, this time overlapping a previous welt.
She’s ready for it now, how at first she feels nothing until the pain rushes through her just a few seconds later, making her eyes roll back in her head. She grits her teeth and her hands clench in the handcuffs fixed to the legs of the chair that they have her bent over. She forces herself to choke out four, desperate to be good, for them.
The new welt is a narrow line of fire blazing across her skin mixing with the low thrum of the three previous strokes-
The burning pain builds to a critical point and then the fifth stroke slashes down-
“Yellow!”
They’re both at her side in seconds.
“Was it too much-”
“What do you need-”
A few weeks ago she would have tumbled into a spiral of guilt, felt shame threaten to swallow her whole.
Not anymore.
“My nose really fucking itches. Can one of you get it? I can’t reach and I don’t want you to uncuff me-”
“Whatever you want, Zo.” Mira sighs, her relief palpable, places the cane delicately on the desk next to her.
Rumi kneels down in front of Zoey and cups her cheek.
Zoey feels tears well in her eyes... not from the pain, but at the tender way Rumi is looking at her, like she’s the centre of her universe.
“Just say the word.”