a_for_apocalypse
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"Zoey. Why do we own a percentage of a women's soccer team?"
"Ummm, because we're gay?"
In which Zoey's purchase backfires.
Bookmarked by a_for_apocalypse
25 Feb 2026
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So Rumi was moaning, her tongue in Mira’s mouth and both hands skimming Zoey’s chest, bare under her top, when all three girls heard a crash. Instantly, they whipped around, weapons out, to find Celine standing in their foyer.
Celine gives Rumi The Talk. Twice. It's twice more than either of them want.
Bookmarked by a_for_apocalypse
25 Feb 2026
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Rumi broke.
The orgasm tore through her like fire in her veins, body locking up, mouth wide open on a scream she couldn’t even hear over the pounding in her skull. Her thighs spasmed. Her whole body shuddered like it didn’t know how to stop. She came so hard she thought she was gonna pass out, and still—still—Mira didn’t stop moving. Slower now. Just enough to keep the edge from fading. Just enough to drag her through it.
Zoey kissed her over and over, lips all sloppy and sweet, whispering nonsense. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay. Just one more. I know you can do one more. We’ll hold you. We’ll catch you. You’re not going anywhere.”
Or
Rumi getting overstimulated a shit ton cause I love overstimulated smut
Bookmarked by a_for_apocalypse
25 Feb 2026
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Head Over Boots by tenderlumberjack for somethinglikesawyer
Fandoms: KPop Demon Hunters (2025)
23 Feb 2026
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Rumi has been turned away by not one, not two, but three cobblers so far, and her hope of finding someone – anyone – to fix her absolutely hammered pair of boots is fading quickly. In a last ditch effort, she takes the train all the way up to Seoul to a small shop called Hong & Sons, and finds a whole lot more than she expected.
-or-
The Cobbler AU
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,824
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 8
- Kudos:
- 133
- Bookmarks:
- 12
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- 791
Bookmarked by a_for_apocalypse
24 Feb 2026
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Zoey pushed it open quietly, expecting resistance. Expecting a groggy Rumi to snap awake and hiss at her like a wet cat.
But Rumi didn’t move.
She was curled up on her side, facing the window, the dim light from a flickering streetlamp casting shadows across her skin. Her long sleeves were pushed up, and her usually careful hoodie had slipped down her shoulder.
Zoey’s breath caught.
Rumi's arms—smooth olive skin etched with glimmering, translucent markings, like silver and violet flecks trapped beneath glass—rested outside the blanket. The demon marks shimmered faintly, twitching and shifting like starlight caught in a storm. They were usually soft, ethereal, even beautiful when Rumi was calm.
But tonight, they were not beautiful.
Bookmarked by a_for_apocalypse
24 Feb 2026