jaybird

SFW:

Siren's Stage Series

Oni!fem reader x Huntrix

Demon!Reader - When God's Burn, Ch1

DemiGod!Reader:

Poseidon

Apollo

Artemis

Aphrodite

Heremes

Yandere:

1, 2

Rumi:

Steamy Makeout

Tatted!Reader Makeout

Masc Reader

Yes, Chef

Mira:

Actress!Reader x Mira

Zoey:

Too Shy

Singer!Reader:

TateMcRae!Reader x Huntrix

SabrinaCarpenter!Reader x Huntrix

MLPsinger!Reader x Huntrix

demon!idol!reader x Huntrix

Katseye!Reader x Huntrix

Polytrix:

Angst, Angst 2 + Part 2,

Barista!Reader

Guitarist!Reader

GetoSuguru!Reader

Fluff

Jealousy

Saja Boys:

Sweet Like Summer

Baby:

Doll!Reader x baby

American!Reader x baby

NSFW:

Rumi:

Claim What's Mine

rival!idol!reader x rumi

Angry Smash

g!pRumi x reader

Mira:

G!P Mira x Reader, Part 2, Part 3

g!p Mira

Bottom!Mira

Zoey:

BillieEilish!Reader x Zoey

FlightAttendant!Reader

Polytrix:

Your Light Found Me

SabrinaCarpenter!Reader x Huntrix

Rumi & Mira x Reader

Heat

RookieIdol!Reader x Huntrix

g!pHuntrix (seperate) x reader

Yandere:

"Escape"

The palace was too quiet at night.

It was something Fire Lord Zuko had never quite grown used to- not in the years since the war ended, not even now, when peace had settled like a fragile layer of ash over the world.

Silence, he had learned, was not always peaceful.

Sometimes it pressed in.

Sometimes it reminded him of everything he carried.

Tonight, it felt like both.

Zuko stood on the balcony outside his chambers, hands resting against the cool stone railing, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the glowing horizon of Caldera City. The ocean reflected the moon in fractured silver, restless and shifting. Like him.

He exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t thinking about war. Not exactly.

He wasn’t thinking about politics either, or the council meetings that stretched endlessly into his days, or the careful balance he had to maintain with every nation.

No.

He was thinking about you.

And that, somehow, felt far more dangerous.

You had arrived months ago.

At first, you were nothing more than a name in a report- someone recommended by Katara, someone Sokka insisted was “actually competent, which is rare,” someone Toph had described as “not annoying, so that’s already a win.”

Zuko had expected… someone ordinary.

What he hadn’t expected was you.

You didn’t try to impress him. You didn’t tiptoe around his title or his temper or his reputation. You spoke to him plainly, sometimes frustratingly so, and carried yourself with a kind of quiet certainty that unsettled him in a way he didn’t understand at first.

You didn’t look at him like he was something to fear.

Or something to admire.

You just… looked at him.

And that had been the beginning of the problem.

He didn’t fall for you quickly.

Zuko wasn’t the kind of person who rushed into anything, least of all something like this.

It started small.

Conversations that lasted a little too long.

Meetings where his attention drifted toward you without permission.

Moments where your hand brushed his when passing documents, and something in his chest tightened just enough to notice.

He ignored it.

Of course he did.

He had responsibilities. A nation to rebuild. A legacy to redefine.

You were simply… there.

Until you weren’t “simply” anything anymore.

It was Sokka who noticed first.

“Okay,” he said one afternoon, leaning casually against the war room table while Zuko pretended to focus on a map. “So how long are you planning on doing that?”

Zuko didn’t look up. “Doing what.”

“That thing where you stare at them but also clearly want to kiss them.”

Zuko’s head snapped up. “I do not—”

“You absolutely do,” Sokka said, grinning. “It’s subtle, I’ll give you that. But I’m a professional observer.”

“I’m not interested,” Zuko said flatly.

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “You just said that like someone who is deeply interested.”

Zuko glared at him.

Sokka held up his hands. “Hey, not judging. Just saying- you might want to figure it out before it becomes painfully obvious to literally everyone else.”

Too late, Zuko thought.

Because by then, it already had.

You didn’t say anything about it.

That was the frustrating part.

If you had reacted, pulled away, teased him, acknowledged the tension- it might have been easier. Clearer.

But you didn’t.

You stayed the same.

Steady. Present. Close, but never crossing whatever invisible line existed between you.

And so Zuko stayed there too.

Right on the edge of something he didn’t quite know how to step into.

It changed the night of the storm.

The sky had split open without warning, rain slamming against the palace roofs in a relentless rhythm. Lightning flashed over the sea, illuminating the world in brief, violent bursts.

Zuko hadn’t planned to find you.

But somehow, he always did.

You were in one of the open corridors, watching the storm with an expression that was equal parts calm and distant.

“You should be inside,” he said.

You didn’t turn immediately. “I am inside.”

“The doors are open.”

“So are you.”

That made him pause.

You glanced at him then, just briefly, before looking back out at the storm.

Zuko stepped closer, slower this time. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” you said quietly. “You just don’t like it.”

He frowned. “You think you know me that well?”

“I think,” you said, turning fully now, “that you carry everything like it’s yours alone to hold.”

The rain filled the silence between you.

Zuko’s jaw tightened slightly. “It is.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

He didn’t respond to that.

Didn’t know how.

Because part of him wanted to argue, and part of him knew you were right.

And that was worse.

You stepped closer.

Not enough to touch.

Just enough that the distance felt… intentional.

“You don’t let yourself want things,” you said.

“That’s not true.”

“Then what do you want?”

The question hit harder than it should have.

Zuko opened his mouth then closed it again.

Because the answer was right there.

Standing in front of him.

And he wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

The lightning flashed again, closer this time.

Instinctively, your hand moved—gripping his sleeve, just briefly.

It was small.

Reflexive.

But it changed everything.

Zuko stilled.

Your hand lingered for half a second longer than necessary before you pulled it back.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

Zuko shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to apologize.”

The words came out softer than he intended.

You looked at him again.

And this time, neither of you looked away.

He moved first.

Not quickly.

Never quickly.

Zuko wasn’t the type to rush, not into battle anymore, not into decisions, and certainly not into something like this.

He stepped closer, slowly enough that you could have pulled away if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

His hand found your waist, not possessive, not forceful. Just there. Steady. Grounding.

Like he needed to be sure you were real.

Like he needed to feel the moment fully before it slipped away.

You inhaled sharply but didn’t move.

Zuko’s thumb shifted slightly against your side, almost absentmindedly.

He was watching you.

Waiting.

Always waiting.

“You’re thinking too much,” you whispered.

A faint, almost humorless smile touched his lips. “I usually am.”

“Then stop.”

Easier said than done.

But for once..

He tried.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t sudden.

It wasn’t overwhelming or rushed or desperate.

It was careful.

Intentional.

He was learning you.

Like he wanted to remember every second of it.

His hand tightened just slightly at your waist, anchoring himself as much as you.

You met him there.

Not pulling him closer.

Not pushing him away.

Just… there.

With him.

The storm raged on around you, but Zuko barely noticed it anymore.

This felt louder.

Stronger.

More terrifying than any battle he had ever fought.

Because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t in control.

And for once he didn’t want to be.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t far.

Just enough to look at you.

Really look at you.

“I don’t do this lightly,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“I don’t… fall easily.”

A small pause.

Then, more honestly:

“But when I do…”

You held his gaze.

“You fall completely,” you finished for him.

Zuko let out a quiet breath.

“…Yeah.”

Somewhere, far away, thunder rolled across the sea.

But neither of you moved.

Not yet.

Not when everything was still settling into place.

Not when the space between you felt like something new had just been built there, something fragile, but real.

Later, much later, when the storm had passed and the palace returned to its quiet stillness, Zuko found himself standing on that same balcony again.

Only this time-

You were beside him.

Not speaking.

Not needing to.

Your hand rested lightly against his arm.

And he didn’t pull away.

From across the courtyard, Sokka spotted the two of you and immediately elbowed Toph.

“Called it.”

Toph smirked. “Took him long enough.”

Katara just smiled softly.

And somewhere in the background, even Aang looked relieved.

Zuko, for his part, didn’t notice them at all.

Because for once his attention wasn’t divided.

Wasn’t pulled in a hundred directions.

Wasn’t weighed down by everything he had to be.

For once h let himself have something.

Something slow.

Something steady.

Something real.

And he held onto it.

Carefully.

Deliberately.

Like everything that mattered.

pov i disappear for another year again.

enjoy this dumpster fire

@spookyanxiety, @forgetfulsmols, @notheroverthinker, @rumiskimbap, @halle5s. @jellyofthefishes, @tundra1029, @zanystarfishpanda, @dinosaur-hehe, @amishreyac, @insomniyuuh, @driedmangoslices6, @sydforreal24, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @tsukimoon-chan, @theselilwonders, @tickle-monnster, @pandafuriosa60, @marcylated, @atomic-babomb,

@stxr-lilac, @allaji, @homo-arsonist, @etcherrie, @ludwigvonbaethoven, @all-things-lilac,, @sweetcici-123, @doodl3b3ans, @soobiverse, @avaniervee, @hopingforgoodblogs, @indiembers, @amishreyac, @lynxlynx7, @fanficreaderacc, @urfavefelon, @muse-hub, @wisteria-w1sp, @avaniervee, @augustraine, @liladoesfanfics, @romanticangel555, @kairbun, @nathandrake312-blog, @goldebloom1977, @stanstraykidsskz, @winter-solstice24, @edelgardvh, @amishreyac, @ooremey, @fusselbunt,@romanticangel555, @ermmmidkk

@spookyanxiety, @forgetfulsmols, @notheroverthinker, @rumiskimbap, @halle5s. @jellyofthefishes, @tundra1029, @zanystarfishpanda, @dinosaur-hehe, @amishreyac, @insomniyuuh, @driedmangoslices6, @sydforreal24, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @tsukimoon-chan, @theselilwonders,

@tickle-monnster, @pandafuriosa60, @marcylated, @atomic-babomb, @stxr-lilac, @allaji, @homo-arsonist, @etcherrie, @ludwigvonbaethoven, @all-things-lilac,, @sweetcici-123, @doodl3b3ans, @soobiverse @forgetfulsmols, @notheroverthinker, @rumiskimbap, @halle5s. @jellyofthefishes, @tundra1029, @zanystarfishpanda, @dinosaur-hehe, @amishreyac, @insomniyuuh, @driedmangoslices6, @sydforreal24, @satansdaughter123, ,@sra7riddle-malfoy, @tsukimoon-chan, @cptg00s3, @katzline

Huntrix x reader oneshot

__

The Honmoon flickered.

Not shattered. Not cracked. Just… wrong. Like a skipped heartbeat.

Zoey noticed first, because of course she did.

“That’s totally normal,” she said sarcastically, already halfway to the exit, jacket half-on, gum still in her mouth.

Rumi sighed, fingers tightening around the mic at her hip. “It’s never normal when you say that.”

Mira didn’t answer. She was staring at the red bloom spreading across the city map-soft, pulsing, almost curious.

And right at the center of it-

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Mira muttered.

You stood there like you’d always belonged. One foot on the edge of the rooftop, wind tugging at your hair, eyes glowing faintly- not enough to scare civilians, just enough to make Huntrix’s instincts scream.

“You’re late,” you said mildly.

Zoey blinked. “Wow. Okay. Rude. We literally dropped an album today.”

Rumi stepped forward, voice calm, controlled, the way it always was when she was trying not to feel something. “You shouldn’t be here. If the Honmoon reacts to you like this-”

“-then it’s because it remembers me,” you finished. “And you.”

Mira’s jaw tightened. “We don’t remember you.”

You smiled at that. Soft. Sad. Dangerous.

“I know.”

The air shifted. Something ancient stirred beneath the city- demons, gods, curses, or blessing. Maybe all four. The kind of power that never stayed gone forever.

Zoey swallowed. “Okay. So. Quick poll. Are we fighting you, kissing you, orrr?”

Your gaze flicked to each of them in turn, lingering just a second too long.

“Depends,” you said. “What are you willing to lose this time?”

The Honmoon flared.

lololol

hope yall enjoyed whatever that was

anyways i can and will be bribed back into writing - just throwing this out there.

@spookyanxiety, @forgetfulsmols, @notheroverthinker, @rumiskimbap, @halle5s. @jellyofthefishes, @tundra1029, @zanystarfishpanda, @dinosaur-hehe, @amishreyac, @insomniyuuh, @driedmangoslices6, @sydforreal24, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @tsukimoon-chan, @theselilwonders, @tickle-monnster, @pandafuriosa60, @marcylated, @atomic-babomb, @stxr-lilac, @allaji, @homo-arsonist, @etcherrie, @ludwigvonbaethoven, @all-things-lilac,, @sweetcici-123, @doodl3b3ans, @soobiverse, @avaniervee, @hopingforgoodblogs, @indiembers, @amishreyac, @lynxlynx7, @fanficreaderacc, @urfavefelon, @muse-hub, @wisteria-w1sp, @avaniervee, @augustraine, @liladoesfanfics, @romanticangel555, @kairbun, @nathandrake312-blog, @goldebloom1977, @stanstraykidsskz, @winter-solstice24, @edelgardvh, @amishreyac, @ooremey, @fusselbunt,@romanticangel555, @ermmmidkk

It’s past 1am when you stagger out of the club, heels clicking unevenly against the pavement. Your head swims, skin flushed from alcohol, and the night air bites at your bare shoulders. You fish your phone out with clumsy fingers, squinting at the screen. Somewhere between the neon lights and your foggy brain, you forget all about calling an actual Uber. Instead, your thumb hovers, presses, and rings.

“Mmh… hello?” Mira’s voice filters through, low and husky with strain.

You don’t register it’s her. You’re too far gone. “Yeah, uh-Uber? I’m outside this place on 8th and- hic-Clover Street. Big neon sign. Don’t cancel, okay?”

There’s silence on the other end. You ramble anyway, giving directions, swaying against the brick wall. Mira’s quiet, breathing heavy, and then you hear her mutter, “...fuck.”

You don’t know it, but Mira’s rut had just started. She’d been pacing her penthouse, skin burning, cock straining against sweats, trying to keep herself under control. And then your voice- sweet, needy, vulnerable, cut straight through her restraint.

Still, she comes.

By the time her car pulls up, you’re blinking slow, arms wrapped around yourself. The passenger door clicks open. You slide in without hesitation, head dropping back against the seat. You catch her scent almost instantly- sharp, musky, alpha. It floods the car like smoke, and though your brain is hazy, your omega instincts perk up, slick already starting to pool embarrassingly in your panties.

“Thanks,” you mumble, eyes half-lidded. “Five stars.”

Mira’s knuckles go white around the steering wheel. “...This isn’t a good idea,” she mutters, voice deeper than usual.

You don’t process it. You just lean a little toward her, drawn to the heat radiating off her body, and whisper, “You smell nice…”

Mira exhales sharply through her nose, fighting a growl that rises in her throat.

The ride is tense. Every second, Mira can feel her rut pressing harder, instincts screaming at her to turn the car around, to pin you down and sink into you until her knot swells and locks you in place. Her scent is thick in the confined space, a heady musk of heated alpha, and you keep shifting in your seat like you can’t get comfortable.

You’re drunk, but not so drunk that you can’t notice how warm you feel-how your thighs keep pressing together, how your chest rises a little faster. The smell of her is addictive, wrapping around you, drowning you, making your own cycle stir restlessly.

When the car stops, you blink, confused. “This… isn’t my apartment.”

Mira cuts the engine, jaw tight. “You didn’t give me an address.” She hesitates, then adds lowly, “And I wasn’t leaving you out there alone.”

You follow her inside, the glass-and-steel skyscraper towering over the city. Security doesn’t blink-you’re with her. She leads you up, floor after floor, until you step into her penthouse suite. It’s sleek, modern, but all you notice is how Mira’s scent clings to every surface. It’s stronger here, rich, overwhelming, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Clothes,” you mumble, tugging at your dress straps. “Don’t… don’t have anything else.”

Mira swears under her breath. She rummages in her closet and tosses you a HUNTR\X hoodie-oversized, soft, black with the logo stitched across the chest. You pull it on, drowning in fabric, the sleeves too long. But the hoodie reeks of Mira. Warm alpha musk seeps into your pores, curling through your lungs. You shiver, thighs pressing tight again.

She notices. She notices everything.

“Bed,” you yawn, already stumbling toward the massive mattress. Mira catches your wrist before you collapse fully, steadying you. The heat of her skin singes you even through the fabric. She means to let go-she should let go, but you curl your fingers around hers and tug.

“Stay. Don’t… don’t be stubborn.”

Mira curses again under her breath but follows, climbing into bed stiffly. She stays on the edge, back to you, fists clenched in the sheets. Your omega instincts don’t let her stay away for long. You scoot closer, seeking warmth, pressing your nose into her shoulder.

That’s when it hits.

Your heat slams into you like a wave, tearing through the alcohol haze. You gasp, curling closer, body on fire. Slick dampens your thighs instantly, your scent blooming in the room like wildfire. Mira freezes.

“Fuck,” she growls, rut instincts surging as your omega heat floods her senses. Her cock twitches painfully hard, precum soaking into her sweats. She throws the blanket off, meaning to leave, to escape before she ruins everything.

But you whine. High, soft, needy. Fingers clutching her hoodie sleeve, you drag her back. “Don’t.. don’t go.”

That tiny omega whine shatters her last restraint.

__

Mira’s halfway off the bed when your whine cuts through her like a blade. Her rut surges, claws digging into her chest, and she grips the bedframe so hard it creaks.

“Don’t-” she hisses through clenched teeth, voice thick, guttural. “Don’t make that sound.”

But you can’t help it. The heat is blooming fast, burning away the alcohol fog. Your head clears, but your body aches with need. Every breath fills you with Mira’s scent- sharp, earthy, dripping alpha. Your thighs are slick, your core throbbing. You don’t feel drunk anymore. You feel alive, raw, desperate.

You tug at her hoodie sleeve again, stronger this time. “Please. Don’t leave me like this.”

Mira whirls on you, eyes glowing with rut hunger. She’s trembling, every muscle straining against her own instincts. Her cock strains obscenely against her sweats, a wet spot spreading. She bares her teeth, growl rumbling from her chest.

“You don’t-fuck- you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

You swallow hard, but you don’t back down. Your omega is begging for her, every cell in your body screaming to be filled, knotted, claimed. “I do. Mira, I’m not drunk anymore. I can feel it- I’m in heat.”

Her nostrils flare. The truth of your words crashes over her: your scent is pure heat now, sweet and slick and overwhelming. She curses, punching the mattress beside your head just to ground herself, inches from your body but not touching.

“I’ll ruin you,” she growls, forehead dropping to the sheets by your shoulder, breath hot on your neck. “If I start, I won’t stop. I’ll fuck you until you can’t move, I’ll breed you until-”

“Then do it.” Your voice is steady, sure, even as your body trembles with need. You tilt your head, baring your throat instinctively. “Mira, please. I want this.”

That’s it. That’s the last barrier broken.

A snarl rips from her throat as she lunges, lips crushing yours, teeth nipping hard enough to sting. Her hands seize your hips, dragging you under her like you weigh nothing. Her rut is in full control now-raw, primal, possessive. She grinds her clothed cock against your soaked thighs, slick spreading everywhere, and groans into your mouth.

“You smell so fucking good,” she pants, teeth grazing your neck, already scenting you, marking your skin with her musk. “Mine- fuck, you’re mine.”

The moment Mira’s mouth crashes against yours, it’s over. Her rut takes control, instincts tearing apart every wall she built between you. You moan into her lips, the sound muffled and needy, and Mira growls like a beast, her hands clawing at your hips through the hoodie she gave you. She doesn’t even realize how tightly she’s gripping you until you whimper, and then she eases-barely-before dragging you higher onto the bed.

“Mine,” she snarls against your throat, grinding her clothed cock against your drenched panties. The slick seeping from you soaks right through the fabric, wetting her sweats. “Fuck- you’re so wet already. You want my cock inside you, huh?"

Your body answers before your mouth does, arching up, grinding shamelessly against her length. “Yes- Mira, please. Need you.”

She yanks the hoodie off you in one violent motion, throwing it aside. Her mouth devours your collarbone, her tongue and teeth dragging, leaving marks, claiming you. Your dress strap slips, and she tears it down, exposing your breasts. The growl that rumbles out of her chest shakes through you.

Her hands- bigger, stronger than you ever imagined when she was just sitting in her makeup chair every morning, seize your breasts, kneading roughly. She sucks a nipple into her mouth, biting, tugging until you cry out. Slick floods your panties again, and Mira groans against your skin.

“Fuck- you’re leaking for me. Such a needy little omega.” She rips your dress the rest of the way off, shredding the fabric like paper. Then her sweats hit the floor, and your breath catches.

Her cock is thick, heavy, flushed dark at the tip, already dripping precum down the shaft. The sight makes your walls clench painfully, your heat screaming to be filled.

“Mira,” you gasp, thighs spreading wide for her. “Please-"

That’s all she needs. She pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other guiding her cock to your soaked folds. She rubs the head against your entrance, smearing precum and your slick together. The sensation makes you whine and buck, but she holds you down easily.

“Say it again,” she growls, voice breaking, forehead pressed to yours. “Say you want it.”

“I want it- I want you to knot me,” you whimper, tears of need blurring your eyes. "Please, Mira.”

She slams inside you in one brutal thrust.

Your scream rips the air, half pleasure, half shock, as her cock stretches you wide, filling you to the hilt. Mira’s rut-snarl fills your ears as she bites down on your neck- not hard enough to break skin, but deep enough to leave a mark that will reek of her scent for days.

“So fucking tight,” she groans, rut instincts driving her hips into a punishing pace immediately. “You were made for me- fuck- made for my cock.”

You sob, clutching at the sheets, body jolting with each thrust. She pounds you into the mattress, heavy balls slapping against your ass, knot already swelling at the base. Your slick gushes around her, soaking the sheets.

Every drag of her cock inside you hits something devastating, your body begging for her, milking her length. The hoodie scent still lingers on your skin, mixed with her sweat, your heat pheromones tangling in the air. The room is suffocating with rut and heat, both cycles fully aligned now.

Mira’s rut has her half-gone, feral. She pins your throat with her mouth, sucking bruises, growling every time you clench around her. Her hand slips down between you, two fingers pressing hard against your clit, rubbing circles with merciless speed.

“Cum for me,” she snarls, hips jackhammering into you. “Cum on my cock before I knot you.”

Your body obeys instantly. The orgasm crashes over you, violent and wet, your walls spasming around her cock, squeezing her so tight she chokes on a moan. Slick floods out of you, dripping onto the sheets.

“Good girl,” she groans, rut instincts roaring. “Now take my knot- take it.”

Her knot slams into you, swelling thick, locking her cock deep inside your cunt. You scream, body shaking as the bulge stretches you obscenely, tying you to her. She thrusts shallowly, grinding deep, until her release rips through her.

Mira roars against your throat as hot cum floods your womb, thick and endless, filling you so deep it seeps around her knot. You sob at the overwhelming fullness, hands gripping her shoulders desperately.

“Mira-oh god-”

She doesn’t stop. Knot locked, cock still twitching inside you, her rut won’t let her. She keeps grinding, breeding you through wave after wave of her orgasm. Her lips find your scent gland, sucking hard, coating it with her alpha musk.

“You’re mine now,” she pants, still rut-drunk, biting gently at your neck. “Marked, knotted, filled. No one else gets to touch you. No one.”

You can’t even answer, too busy gasping through aftershocks, body shuddering around her knot.

Minutes pass- long, hazy, sweaty minutes. Eventually her knot softens enough to slip free, cum spilling out of you in a hot rush. You barely catch your breath before Mira’s rut surges again.

She flips you onto your stomach, pushes your face into the pillow, and mounts you from behind like an animal. Her cock slams back into your slick, still gaping cunt, rut instinct demanding more, more, more. You scream her name into the sheets as she pounds you again, knot already swelling, hips snapping without rhythm.

There’s no talking this time- only growls, sobs, and wet slaps as your body is used and filled again. Her cum overflows, dripping onto the sheets, mixing with your slick. The air is thick with the smell of sex and pheromones, a suffocating haze that drives you both higher.

You lose count of how many times she knots you. You lose track of orgasms, of time, of everything except Mira’s cock, Mira’s teeth, Mira’s scent smearing over your body until you’re drenched in her claim.

__

When the sun finally rises, you’re exhausted, body sore, marked everywhere, your thighs still sticky with cum. Mira is curled around you protectively, still half-hard, her scent musky and possessive.

You stir, groaning softly. “Mira…?”

Her eyes snap open, still glowing faintly with rut. She kisses your shoulder, voice hoarse. “You okay?”

Your body aches, but you smile weakly. “Yeah. More than okay.”

Her jaw clenches. “I shouldn’t have- but fuck, I can’t regret it. Not when you’re mine now.”

Her rut hasn’t passed, though. You can feel it in the twitch of her cock against your back, the way her breath quickens as your omega scent flares again.

You blush, turning your head. “You’re not done yet, are you?”

Mira growls, rolling on top of you again, pinning you to the mattress. “No. I’m not stopping until my rut’s over. And you-” she slides back inside you with one brutal thrust, knot swelling instantly- “you’re not going anywhere.”

You scream her name again as the cycle continues, your heat feeding her rut, her rut feeding your heat. There’s no telling where it’ll end.

But one thing is certain: Mira has claimed you. And she’s not letting go.

once again- i hate a/b/o and omegaverse but decided to push past my hate and write it for kinktober.

anyways i can and will be bribed back into writing - just throwing this out there.

kpdh taglist: @spookyanxiety, @forgetfulsmols, @notheroverthinker, @rumiskimbap, @halle5s. @jellyofthefishes, @tundra1029, @zanystarfishpanda, @dinosaur-hehe, @amishreyac, @insomniyuuh, @driedmangoslices6, @sydforreal24, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @tsukimoon-chan, @theselilwonders, @tickle-monnster, @pandafuriosa60, @marcylated, @atomic-babomb, @stxr-lilac, @allaji, @homo-arsonist, @etcherrie, @ludwigvonbaethoven, @all-things-lilac,, @sweetcici-123, @doodl3b3ans, @soobiverse, @avaniervee, @hopingforgoodblogs, @indiembers, @amishreyac, @lynxlynx7, @fanficreaderacc, @urfavefelon, @muse-hub, @wisteria-w1sp, @avaniervee, @augustraine, @liladoesfanfics, @romanticangel555, @kairbun, @nathandrake312-blog, @goldebloom1977, @stanstraykidsskz, @winter-solstice24, @edelgardvh, @amishreyac, @ooremey, @fusselbunt,@romanticangel555, @ermmmidkk

@spookyanxiety, @forgetfulsmols, @notheroverthinker, @rumiskimbap, @halle5s. @jellyofthefishes, @tundra1029, @zanystarfishpanda, @dinosaur-hehe, @amishreyac, @insomniyuuh, @driedmangoslices6, @sydforreal24, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @tsukimoon-chan, @theselilwonders, @tickle-monnster, @pandafuriosa60, @marcylated, @atomic-babomb, @stxr-lilac, @allaji, @homo-arsonist, @etcherrie, @ludwigvonbaethoven, @all-things-lilac,, @sweetcici-123, @doodl3b3ans, @soobiverse @forgetfulsmols, @notheroverthinker, @rumiskimbap, @halle5s. @jellyofthefishes, @tundra1029, @zanystarfishpanda, @dinosaur-hehe, @amishreyac, @insomniyuuh, @driedmangoslices6, @sydforreal24, @satansdaughter123, ,@sra7riddle-malfoy, @tsukimoon-chan, @cptg00s3, @katzline

The clatter of wooden swords rang through the training yard. Sweat slicked your palms as Maki’s next strike came fast and sharp — faster than last time.

You grinned. Perfect.

You met her blade with a crack that jolted your wrists.

“Still holding back, Zenin?” you taunted, voice just loud enough to carry to Panda and Toge lounging on the sidelines.

Her brows pinched. “You wish.”

She lunged. You sidestepped, catching her wrist, twisting — and she slipped out like water, flipping you onto your back before you could blink.

Panda whistled. “Down again, Y/N. That’s gotta sting.”

You lay there grinning up at the sky, heartbeat thundering. Maki’s shadow fell over you, her chest heaving.

“You done?” she asked.

“Not a chance.”

__

Sparring with her began brutal and fast. She swung high — you ducked. She swept low — you vaulted over her blade, laughing.

“You’re getting predictable,” you taunted.

“You’re getting cocky.”

“Flattered you noticed.”

Her jaw tightened. She lunged, and you dodged just close enough to breathe against her ear. “Careful, Maki. You’re blushing.”

She almost tripped. Almost. Then she slammed her shoulder into your chest, knocking you flat.

Panda whooped from the sidelines.

Flat on your back, you beamed up at her. “Worth it.”

Maki’s glare could’ve leveled a mountain.

You made it your mission to get under her skin. If she sharpened her blade, you leaned in too close and whispered “shiny.” If she trained shirtless in the heat, you loudly fanned yourself and said, “Careful, Zenin, hearts are breaking.” If she ignored you, you sprawled across her favorite training bench until she snapped.

She never backed down. That’s what you liked about her.

What you hated was how much you liked her.

Because sometimes, when you caught her watching you, there was something in her eyes — not anger. Not exactly.

Something softer.

Something you wanted badly enough it made your chest ache.

It became a pattern. Training turned into duels. Missions turned into competitions.

Who could exorcise more curses. Who could get injured less. Who could walk away without looking back first.

It didn’t matter what it was — you needed to beat her. And Maki… never let you win.

You caught her watching you sometimes. Just a flicker of her gaze, sharp and assessing. And sometimes — softer.

Once, after a brutal night mission, both of you collapsed against the wall outside the infirmary, bloody and laughing. Your knee pressed against hers. She didn’t move away.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“You love it,” you shot back.

Her lips quirked. “Unfortunately.”

You froze. She stood and walked away like nothing happened, ponytail swinging.

A few months later

You and Maki are paired up on a long mission alone. No Panda. No Toge. Just you, Maki, and a ruined village crawling with curses.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

Until camp that night, when she catches you staring across the fire.

“What?” she says, voice low.

“Nothing,” you lie, tossing a twig into the flames. “Just… wondering how someone can be this stubborn.”

“You make me this way,” she mutters.

You glance up. Her glasses glint orange in the firelight, but her cheeks are flushed.

“Maybe,” you say softly. “Or maybe you’ve just been waiting for someone to push back.”

Something shifts. The silence between you is taut, fragile, burning. And for the first time, Maki doesn’t look away.

__

The air stank of rot and burned earth.

You stumbled through the shattered houses, blood dripping down your arm, your blade slick with curse residue. The curse was stronger than expected — fast, clever, relentless.

Maki was still somewhere inside the main building holding it off so you could circle around and land the killing blow. She’d yelled at you not to be reckless.

So of course, you were reckless.

You caught the curse off guard, driving your weapon through its chest — but not before its claws punched clean through yours.

The thing finally dissolved into ash. You didn’t.

Your body crumpled to the floor like a marionette with cut strings.

The world blurred, ringing in your ears.

Footsteps thundered down the hall.

“Y/N!”

Maki dropped to her knees beside you, grabbing your shoulders so hard it hurt. “Hey—hey, stay awake. Don’t you dare.”

You blinked up at her. Her glasses were cracked. Her hands were shaking.

“Relax,” you rasped, blood on your teeth. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“Shut up.” Her voice cracked. “You idiot—why would you—”

You’d never seen Maki look scared. Not like this.

“Maki,” you whispered. “Are you… crying?”

She clenched her jaw. “No. You’re just—blurry.”

You smiled faintly. “I like blurry Maki. She’s… soft.”

“Don’t—” Her breath hitched. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

__

you woke up in the infirmary. Pain bloomed down your ribs, but you were alive.

And Maki was there.

Slumped in a chair beside your bed, asleep with her arms folded, her sword leaning against the wall like she’d stood guard until exhaustion claimed her.

Your throat tightened.

“…You stayed,” you croaked.

Her eyes snapped open instantly.

“Of course I stayed,” she said, voice rough from unshed tears and no sleep. “You almost died, dumbass.”

You tried to joke. “But I didn’t.”

Maki stood. Her face was unreadable, but her hands trembled as she cupped your cheek.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” she whispered. “And it—” She swallowed hard. “It terrified me.”

The room was silent except for your pounding heart.

“You’re stuck with me,” you murmured.

“Good.”

And then she kissed you — fierce and trembling, like she hated you for scaring her and loved you for surviving.

The battlefield reeks of iron and ash. You can barely hear your own breath over the chaos, the crackling of the Honmoon’s weakening barrier, the shrieks of demons clawing their way through. Your blade is slick with black blood, your muscles burning, but you push forward because that’s what Huntrix always does. Protect. Fight. Survive.

Then you feel it—pain like a white-hot spear tearing across your side. You stagger, vision blurring. A demon’s claws rip deeper before you can react, and suddenly your legs give way.

You fall.

The world tilts sideways, your cheek smearing against cold stone. Your blood runs warm beneath you. Somewhere above the din, you hear your name being screamed—no, roared.

Rumi.

Her voice doesn’t sound human anymore.

She hits the demon before it can finish you, claws ripping through its chest in one brutal motion. Her body is glowing faintly with the crackle of energy, hair wild, teeth bared in a snarl that rattles your bones. You’ve seen Rumi angry before. You’ve seen her fight before. But this—this is something else.

This is her demon side unleashed.

She doesn’t fight with technique or strategy. She fights like a storm, tearing through everything in sight. Every creature that dares move toward you is ripped apart. Her claws snap necks, her teeth sink into flesh, her strength bends demons in half with sickening cracks.

Zoey shouts something. Mira tries to reach you. But Rumi blocks them too, shoving them back with a guttural growl. Not out of hatred—out of instinct. Nothing comes near you. Nothing.

By the time silence falls, the battlefield is a massacre. The only sound left is Rumi’s ragged breathing as she drops to her knees beside you.

“Mate,” she snarls, voice shaking, crimson eyes locked on your paling face. She presses her hands over your wound, claws trembling as if unsure whether to touch you or tear the world apart again. “Stay. Stay with me. Don’t—” Her voice cracks. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

Darkness takes you before you can answer.

__

You wake in fragments. Bandages. The faint hum of barrier wards. The smell of smoke. And always, always, the scent of Rumi.

She’s there when you open your eyes, hunched at your bedside, claws twitching restlessly but never letting go of your hand. Her crimson eyes soften the second your lashes flutter, but they never fully dim.

“You’re awake,” she whispers hoarsely, like she hasn’t spoken in days.

Your throat aches when you try to respond, but she shushes you instantly, pressing her forehead to your hand. “Don’t talk. Just… just stay.”

You don’t remember much of those first days. Only that Rumi never leaves. She snarls at Mira when she suggests switching shifts. She bares her teeth at Zoey when she brings food. Even the healers tiptoe nervously, muttering that your girlfriend’s demon side has her “locked.”

But with you, she’s gentle. Fierce and restless, yes—but her touch is careful, reverent. Every time your eyes open, hers widen like she’s seeing a miracle. Every time you drift, she hums low in her throat, a sound like a lullaby mixed with a warning growl.

It should scare you. It doesn’t. It only makes your chest ache.

Days pass. You grow stronger. And as you do, Rumi changes.

Her claws dig into the mattress at night. She paces like a caged animal when you sleep. Her eyes linger on you too long, drinking in every movement, every breath. Her scent sharpens, heavy in the air—muskier, hotter. Mira mutters the word “rut” under her breath, but when you ask, she doesn’t explain.

Rumi knows you’re healing. Her demon instincts know too. And they’re waiting.

Because her mind has already done the math:

Reader not pregnant = danger. Reader pregnant = safe.

The equation is simple. The solution is inevitable.

It happens the night the healer declares you fully recovered.

You’re standing by the window, flexing stiff fingers, when you hear it—heavy breathing behind you. The air changes, thick and humid with the weight of her scent.

You turn.

Rumi stands in the doorway, shoulders heaving, golden eyes blown wide. Sweat glistens down her temple, her claws shaking at her sides. She looks at you like she hasn’t eaten in weeks, like you’re water and she’s dying of thirst.

“Rumi?” you whisper.

Her growl vibrates the room. “Mine.”

In two strides she’s on you, caging you against the wall with her body. Her claws dig into the plaster beside your head, her forehead pressing hard against yours. Her whole frame trembles, barely contained.

“You’re healed,” she rasps, voice shredded. “Body strong. No wounds. No excuses.”

Her hips grind against yours, and that’s when you feel it—the rigid heat of her cock straining beneath her clothes, the source of her torment.

You gasp, pulse quickening. “Rumi—”

“Need,” she snarls, cutting you off with a kiss that’s all teeth and desperation. “Need to fill you. Make you safe. Only way. Only—” Another growl tears from her throat. “Please. Let me.”

There’s no mistaking what this is. Her rut has taken her, her instincts screaming for only one thing: to breed you, to mark you, to put her seed inside until your belly swells with proof that you’re untouchable.

And gods help you—you don’t want to stop her.

The first time is brutal in its desperation. Clothes ripped, skin clawed, your cries muffled against her shoulder as she thrusts into you with frantic, rut-driven pace. She doesn’t stop when she finishes—doesn’t even slow. She knots her fingers in your hair, whispers brokenly against your lips.

“Again. Need to be sure. Need you full.”

The nights blur together after that. Rumi takes you everywhere—the bed, the floor, the shower—driven by instinct and terror. She licks the sweat from your throat, snarls at shadows, knots her fingers in your hips like she’ll die if she lets go.

And every time she finishes inside, she presses her hand over your belly, panting, whispering hoarsely: “Safe. You’ll be safe.”

It should feel degrading. It doesn’t. It feels like devotion in its rawest, wildest form.

Even when you collapse, exhausted and sore, she holds you close, trembling as if she’s the one who might break. “Don’t hate me,” she whispers once, voice cracking. “I can’t… I can’t stop until you’re safe.”

You don’t hate her. You never could.

Weeks pass. The rut fades. Her instincts never do.

Rumi is calmer now, but still hovers. Still glares whenever missions are mentioned. Still curls around you at night with her hand over your stomach like it’s already carrying something precious.

Then one morning, you feel it. A shift inside. A heaviness, a flutter. You take the test. Then another. And another.

Positive. Every single one.

Your hands shake as you hold the proof. Your heart races—not with fear, but with something warm and terrifyingly tender.

When you tell her, she freezes.

For one terrifying second, you think she didn’t hear. Then her knees give out, and she crumples in front of you, burying her face against your belly with a choked sob.

“Mine,” she whispers brokenly. “Safe. You’re safe now.”

Her claws tremble as they cup your hips. Her tears soak through your shirt. She kisses your skin reverently, over and over, as if worshipping the life inside.

“I thought I’d lose you,” she confesses, voice cracking. “Thought I’d go mad. But now—now you’ll never fight again. Never bleed again. I’ll keep you safe. Both of you. Always.”

You stroke her hair, tears blurring your vision. “Rumi…”

She clings to you like a drowning woman, sobbing with relief. For the first time since your injury, her demon side quiets. For the first time, she isn’t restless. She isn’t pacing. She’s simply holding you, trembling with the weight of her love.

That night, you wake to her whispering in her sleep.

Her hand rests over your stomach, thumb stroking circles as she murmurs promises.

“No missions. No danger. Just me, you, baby. Safe.”

Her voice cracks even in dreams. “If not enough, I’ll give you more. As many as it takes. My mate. My forever.”

You close your eyes, tears sliding down your cheeks, and press your hand over hers.

For the first time, you feel it too—not fear, not chaos. Just safety.

Because to Rumi, carrying her child means you’re untouchable. Untouchable means alive. And alive means hers.

Always hers.

Forever safe.

not the most proud w this but its 1am so i'm leaving it how it is

keep em requests coming pookies

ya girls broke so anything in general helps- Buy me a coffee <3

The collab had sounded simple enough: American and Korean hunters working together on a breach in Seoul. You weren’t the type to play diplomat, but command insisted. Korea’s hunters fought with elegance and tradition—swords, bows, chants, everything wrapped in silk precision. You, on the other hand, dragged a duffel bag across the tarmac and when the breach opened, pulled out your weapon.

The barrels spun with a metallic whir, unleashing pure hellfire into the night. Demons shredded under the force. Korean hunters stared in stunned silence.

“Is that…?” Zoey’s voice cracked into laughter as the smoke cleared. “A minigun? Oh my god, that’s so American.”

Rumi wasn’t laughing. She was watching you with a kind of sharp hunger. Mira only muttered, “Ridiculous. Impractical. Loud.” But her eyes never left the weapon—or you.

That was the first night Huntrix noticed you. And they never stopped.

Weeks passed. You worked missions together, trained in the same dim halls, and spent passionate night together. They orbited you, sticky and relentless. Zoey flirted with her teasing drawl, Mira poked and prodded with sharp questions, and Rumi hovered like a storm cloud that wanted to swallow you whole.

At first, you brushed it off. They were idols, they weren’t supposed to even be here, and their obsession was just another distraction on top of their lustful gazes. But then came the morning nausea. The skipped cycles. The trembling hands clutching a test in a bathroom stall you locked twice.

Positive.

You’d stared at the little line like it was a demon itself. You’d never wanted kids. Not now, not ever. Hunting was messy, dangerous. You were already married to the job. Bringing a child into it felt like cruelty.

So you decided to keep it secret. At least, you thought you did.

They waited until you were cornered.

The practice room was empty when you walked in, duffel over your shoulder. Too empty. Then the door clicked shut behind you. Rumi stepped forward from the shadows, blocking the exit, eyes burning. Zoey leaned against the mirrors, smiling too wide. Mira’s arms were crossed, lips thin with restraint.

You froze. “What’s this?”

Rumi’s voice was low, shaking with suppressed rage and something darker. “You’re pregnant.”

The world tilted. Your throat went dry. “Excuse me?”

Mira’s eyes gleamed, sharp and cruel. “Don’t bother lying. We’ve seen the way you’ve been hiding, the nausea, the way you clutch your stomach when you think no one’s looking. You think we wouldn’t notice? We notice everything.”

Zoey’s grin widened, her voice sugar-sweet. “Our baby. Yours and ours.”

Your pulse spiked. You dropped your duffel with a heavy thud. “No. Stop right there. I don’t want this. I never wanted kids.”

The silence cracked like ice.

Rumi’s jaw clenched, fury flashing across her face. “You don’t get to decide that anymore. You’re carrying something of ours. That child is ours.”

Zoey slinked closer, voice honeyed and dangerous. “Don’t worry, baby. If you can’t love them, we’ll love them enough for you. We’ll love you both.”

You shoved her back, hard. The smile faltered but didn’t fall. Mira took a step forward, like she’d pin you to the wall right there.

That was the last straw.

You yanked open your duffel, fingers closing on cold steel. The hum filled the air as you hauled the minigun out, its barrels already spinning, the promise of devastation ringing through the room.

The effect was immediate. Zoey’s eyes went wide, her grin finally cracking. Mira froze mid-step, calculating the odds and finding them grim. Even Rumi stopped cold, her breath sharp, her fingers twitching like she wanted to grab but knew she couldn’t. All shocked that you would pull out your gun on them.

“Yeah,” you snapped, fury boiling in your voice. "If you think for one second I’m letting you chain me down with a baby I never wanted? Try me.”

The gun roared, wind whipping your hair, metal grinding like thunder. You didn’t fire—not yet. But the barrels spun, daring them.

Zoey whispered, almost breathless, “God, you’re hot when you’re pissed…”

“Shut up,” Mira hissed, though her eyes never left you.

Rumi’s voice trembled, a cocktail of anger, fear, and desire. “You can point that thing at us all you want. You can run. But you’re not rid of us. Or that baby.”

Your grip tightened. You stepped back, inch by inch toward the door, minigun aimed steady, every nerve screaming. And then—you were gone. Out the door, down the hall, gone before they could rally.

Huntrix stood in the silence you left behind, shaken but alight, obsession only burning hotter.

You’d fought back. You’d drawn your line in the sand.

And all it did was make them want you more.

keep em requests coming pookies

ya girls broke and living off of monster energy so anything in general helps- Buy me a coffee <3

Zoey x Reader

The moment Zoey pulls your name from the bowl, her grin is downright wicked. The others groan, but she just winks at you and all but drags you into the closet.

The door shuts, darkness pressing in, and Zoey’s already leaning against the wall, arms folded. “Well, well, well. Looks like it’s just you and me,” she teases, her voice dropping lower than usual.

You try to laugh it off, but then she pushes off the wall and closes the gap, her body heat brushing yours. Her lips find your ear. “Seven minutes is a long time if you know how to use it.”

You don’t have a chance to respond before she kisses you. It’s playful at first, nipping at your lip, but when you gasp, she deepens it, her tongue sliding against yours. Her hands slip down to your waist, tugging you flush against her.

Zoey grinds her thigh between your legs, laughing against your mouth when you moan. Her hands sneak under your shirt, palms hot against your skin, inching upward until her thumbs graze just under your bra. “God, you’re so sensitive…” she murmurs, biting at your jaw.

By the time the timer buzzes outside, you’re straddling her thigh, lips swollen, and she smirks, whispering, “Guess we’ll have to play again sometime.”

Rumi x Reader

Rumi rolls her eyes when your names are paired, pretending she’s annoyed — but her flushed ears give her away. She ushers you inside the closet, slams the door, and suddenly it’s just her looming in the dark, eyes locked on you.

For a second, she does nothing. Then her arm shoots out, pinning you to the wall with a loud thunk. Her body cages yours, her breath hot against your cheek. “They’re gonna assume we’re making out anyway,” she murmurs, voice husky. “Might as well give them something to gossip about.”

Her mouth crashes against yours, hungry but precise, her tongue sliding in as her free hand grips your hip tight. She kisses like she’s claiming you — slow, deep, and controlling. You try to match her pace, but she smirks into your mouth, pressing harder, making you give in.

Her hand slides under your shirt, dragging over your stomach before cupping your breast through your bra, her thumb flicking across the peak until you whimper. “Shh,” she whispers, biting at your neck, “don’t let them hear.”

The heat between your thighs builds with every grind of her hips, every squeeze of her hand. By the time the knock comes at the door, you’re breathless, clinging to her shirt, lips swollen and tingling. Rumi pulls back, licking her lips, and whispers, “You’re mine next time — no timer.”

Mira x Reader

Mira looks like she wants to kill someone when the papers say she’s stuck with you. But once the closet door shuts, her façade cracks — her face is already flushed, her hands fidgeting.

You tease her, but it only takes one step closer for her control to snap. She grabs your face and kisses you hard, teeth clashing, tongue desperate against yours. There’s no hesitation, no testing the waters — it’s like she’s been starving for you.

Her hands roam rough and fast, dragging up your thighs, squeezing your ass, pulling you against her until you can feel just how badly she’s trembling. You moan into her mouth, and Mira groans like it’s the sound she’s been dying to hear.

Her hand slips beneath your waistband without warning, fingers pressing against your heat. You gasp, clutching at her shoulders as she works you fast, messy, desperate — her kisses swallowing every sound you make. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” she whispers against your throat, voice ragged, “all for me?”

You can barely answer before her fingers circle harder, driving you toward the edge right there in the dark. She doesn’t stop until you’re shaking against her, muffling your cries into her mouth.

When the knock at the door comes, Mira’s panting, lips bruised, her fingers still inside you. She glares at the door, then at you, whispering, “Next time, I’m not stopping.”

sorry guys for not posting lately - i just haven't had the motivation to write anything :') but we're almost at 1k followers hello??? if we reach it ill do a poll on a special thing that yall would want me to write

ya girls broke and living off of monster energy so anything in general helps- Buy me a coffee <3

but i also had someone get mad at me in my comments on a post for using the wrong tag - which was my bad - but i said they didn't have to be rude about it and that i was sorry and i got blocked :D like ????

keep the requests coming! :)

You’d never really noticed how much trouble skirts and dresses caused until you started dating three idols who took protecting you way too seriously. Huntrix had their sharp eyes on the audience, cameras, and interviewers—but when it came to you, they turned into hawks.

It started at a music show taping. You were sitting front row, legs crossed in your favorite sundress. You didn’t notice the guy a few seats down trying to angle his phone your way—but Mira did. She was up on stage, and yet the moment her eyes narrowed, you knew something was wrong. By the time she walked off for the group’s break, she was at your side, silently stepping between you and the creep, her back straight like a wall. Her expression was flat, unimpressed, and when she glanced over her shoulder, the guy flinched like he’d been hit.

You blinked up at her, confused. “Mira?” “Don’t worry about it.” She didn’t elaborate, just kept herself angled in front of you like a human shield until security moved the man.

When you kissed her cheek after, whispering, “My hero,” Mira pretended not to care—but the tips of her ears turned red.

__

Rumi was subtler. She carried jackets, blankets, even merch towels wherever she went, and you always thought it was just her being the responsible leader. Until a signing event, when you bent to sign a fan’s album and the neckline of your dress dipped just slightly. Before you could even react, Rumi was draping her oversized jacket over your shoulders. She smiled at the fan like nothing had happened, but her hand squeezed your knee under the table—gentle, protective, grounding.

“Comfy?” she asked softly. You grinned. “Very. But you know I’d still rather wear your jacket because it smells like you, right?” That earned you the sweetest, flustered laugh, and when you kissed her temple as a thank you, she melted completely.

__

Zoey, on the other hand, had no chill. She didn’t wait for creeps to be escorted out—she escorted them herself. At another fan event, someone lifted their phone at just the wrong angle, aiming beneath the table. You didn’t even have time to react before Zoey’s hand shot out, snatching the phone so fast it nearly blurred. She smashed it down on the table, hard enough to make the person jolt, her voice low and lethal.

“You try that again, you’re leaving in pieces. Got it?”

Security dragged the fan out, but Zoey was still vibrating with fury when she dropped into the chair beside you, tugging at the hem of your skirt to straighten it and then—without asking—pulling you into her lap.

“You’re safest here,” she muttered, glaring at anyone who dared look your way.

You giggled, cupping her cheeks. “Zoey, you’re absolutely insane.” “And you love it,” she smirked, right before you pressed a kiss to her lips.

__

It became routine after that. Rumi quietly placing a blanket over your lap during interviews. Mira body-blocking any camera at a bad angle. Zoey growling at reporters and tugging you into her space like a dragon guarding treasure. Sometimes you noticed, sometimes you didn’t. But every time you did, you rewarded them the same way—with a kiss. On their cheek, their jaw, their lips.

And without fail, each of them softened instantly, protective edges melting away because you were theirs, and that was all that mattered.

keep the requests coming! :)

The Huntrix dorm was usually noisy around this hour. Someone was always humming, Mira’s phone screen always lit up with her endless scroll of memes, Zoey’s laughter echoing through the kitchen, and Rumi.. well, Rumi was usually the calm center of it all. But lately, things had shifted.

You noticed it first in the little things.

Your hoodie -your favorite hoodie- went missing from the laundry. At first, you figured you’d misplaced it, but then one evening, when you slipped into Rumi’s room unannounced, you found it folded neatly on her pillow. When you looked at her, she flushed, ears twitching slightly, and stammered, “It just smells like you, so… I thought I’d hold onto it.”

That was weird, but sweet. You let it slide.

Then came the sounds.

You were used to Rumi being vocal- little sighs when she stretched, soft hums when she concentrated, but this was different. Every time you left the room, she let out this small, broken sound. A groan. Once, when you said you had to head back to your apartment for the night, she outright moaned, pressing her forehead to the door after you stepped out. You stood there frozen on the other side, wondering if you imagined it.

But the moment that sealed it was during practice. Zoey had slung her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a joking side hug as Mira cracked another sarcastic comment. You laughed, leaning into Zoey, and across the room, Rumi’s low, guttural grunt silenced everything. It wasn’t loud, but it was primal enough to make you freeze. When you glanced at her, her eyes were locked on you, dark and unreadable.

Mira caught it too. Her brows furrowed. “Uh… what was that?”

“Nothing,” Rumi muttered, turning away, but her shoulders were tight.

Later that night, Zoey whispered to Mira in the kitchen while you tried not to eavesdrop. “She’s acting weird. Like… super territorial.” “Yeah. She nearly growled at me for hugging Y/N. What the hell is that about?”

You tried to brush it off, but the truth was… Rumi was acting different. Not just jealous, there was something hungry in her gaze whenever she looked at you. And her touch… gods, her touch lingered. Fingers brushing yours when she handed you a glass, her knee pressing against your thigh at the couch, her hand on your back just a moment too long.

It was almost like she couldn’t help herself.

Two days later, Mira and Zoey couldn’t ignore it anymore. You found them huddled near the dorm entrance, whispering in rushed tones.

“She’s hoarding Y/N’s stuff,” Mira hissed. Zoey groaned. “I knew it wasn’t just me. Did you see? She took Y/N’s water bottle yesterday. Like what? Is she nesting?” “She moans when Y/N leaves.” Mira deadpanned. “I’m serious. I heard it. Like she was in pain.” “…Okay, that’s not normal.”

You raised a brow as you approached. “Uh. Hello? I can hear you, you know.”

They jumped. Zoey winced. “Sorry. We’re just... worried about Rumi.” Mira glanced at the closed bedroom door down the hall, then lowered her voice. “Look, we think something’s going on. Something… demon-y.”

The word made your chest tighten. Rumi had been slowly learning to accept her demon half, but she rarely talked about it openly. She hated making you worry.

So when Mira finally said, “We’re gonna visit Celina. See if she knows what’s up,” you didn’t protest.

Celina’s apartment smelled faintly of herbs and smoke. She welcomed Mira and Zoey with her usual unimpressed expression, listening as they spilled everything. Rumi’s possessiveness, the grunts, the hoarding, the moaning.

Celina didn’t laugh. She just sat back, crossing her arms.

“…Idiot girls,” she muttered. “It’s mating season.”

Mira blinked. “…I’m sorry, what?”

Celina gave them both a flat look. “Demon biology 101. Once a year, demons go into heat. Strong instincts. Territorial, restless, clingy. And if they’ve got a partner…” Her eyes flicked between them, sharp. “Well. You get the picture.”

Zoey flushed crimson. “Wait—you’re saying Rumi’s like… horny?!”

“Not just horny.” Celina’s tone was dry, but serious. “Driven. Instinctual. If she’s just now accepting her demon side, the first heat will hit the hardest. And unless she has an outlet, she’ll suffer. Sometimes it even drives them feral.”

Mira rubbed her face. “Great. Just great.”

Zoey groaned. “So what do we do? Do we lock her in her room with, like, Netflix and hope for the best?”

Celina smirked. “No. You let her mate.”

Silence. Mira and Zoey exchanged a horrified glance.

“Mate,” Mira repeated flatly. “Mate,” Celina confirmed. “And considering she’s got a girlfriend already…” She raised a brow.

Zoey groaned again, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh no. Poor Y/N.”

When they returned to the dorm, you were curled on the couch, scrolling absently through your phone. Rumi hadn’t left her room all day.

Mira and Zoey stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“…Sooo,” Zoey began, “funny story. We talked to Celina.”

You looked up. “And?”

They both winced. Mira coughed. “…It’s, uh. Mating season.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Zoey threw her hands up. “Look, we didn’t make the rules! Apparently, Rumi’s demon side is like super in heat right now. That’s why she’s acting all clingy and… weird.”

Your mouth went dry. Heat crawled up your neck. “…So what does that mean for me?”

The girls glanced at each other.

“It means,” Mira said carefully, “she needs you. Like… badly. And since you’re her girlfriend, we figured…”

“…You’re the best one to stay with her,” Zoey finished sheepishly.

You stared. “You’re just gonna- what? Shove me into her room like a sacrificial lamb?”

“Pretty much,” Zoey muttered.

Before you could argue, a low sound drifted from down the hall. A groan. Long. Needy. Your chest tightened as you realized it was coming from Rumi’s room.

Mira exhaled. “Yeah. She’s not lasting much longer. You’d better—uh. Go.”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding. And then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you pushed yourself off the couch and walked to Rumi’s door.

Her aura pressed against you before you even touched the handle- heavy, hot, hungry. You hesitated, palm sweaty on the knob, and then slowly opened the door.

Rumi sat on the edge of her bed, hands gripping the sheets, sweat beading at her temple. Her eyes snapped to you instantly, pupils blown wide. She inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring like she could scent you from across the room.

“…Y/N,” she breathed, voice raw.

The sound went straight to your core.

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. “Rumi. Are you okay?”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. “No.” Her voice cracked, low and desperate. “I need you.”

__

Her room was warm. Too warm. You could feel it immediately as you stepped closer, like the air itself was charged with her energy. Rumi sat on the edge of her bed, fists gripping the sheets so tightly the fabric strained. Her shoulders shook as she lifted her gaze to yours, pupils dilated until only a ring of violet clung to the edge.

“…Y/N,” she whispered again.

You reached her slowly, hands trembling, and cupped her face. She leaned into your palms instantly, eyes fluttering shut like the simple contact was water in a desert.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she admitted, voice hoarse. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop… needing.”

Your chest tightened. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Her lips crashed against yours before you finished speaking. It wasn’t careful—it was desperate, hungry, a kiss that tasted of weeks of restraint breaking. You gasped into her mouth as she pulled you onto her lap, arms locking around your waist like she couldn’t bear a single inch between you.

Her body burned. Every movement, every brush of her hands across your skin, was hotter than fire. You could feel her trembling beneath you, trying to hold back, but when you moaned softly into her kiss she snapped.

“Mine,” she growled against your lips, and the sound vibrated straight through you.

She laid you back on the mattress, hovering above you with her hair falling around your face like a curtain. Her kisses trailed down your jaw, your throat, sucking at the skin until you whimpered.

“Rumi,” you breathed, fingers curling into her shirt.

She pulled it over her head in one sharp movement, muscles flexing, skin glistening with heat. The sight made your mouth go dry. You reached for her again, but she pinned your wrists above your head gently, reverently, as her mouth explored the column of your throat.

“Need to mark you,” she murmured, half to herself. “Need everyone to know you’re mine. My mate.”

The word made your heart stutter. Mate.

You should have felt nervous, but the heat in her eyes wasn’t cruel—it was worshipful. She kissed every inch of your chest, every sound you made spurring her on, until your shirt was gone and you lay bare beneath her.

She groaned low in her chest, burying her face against you. “Gods, you smell so good. I can’t—Y/N, I can’t stop.”

“Don’t,” you whispered back, arching into her. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Her control shattered.

Clothes scattered across the room, your body pressed firmly beneath hers. The first time she entered you, it was slow, her forehead pressed to yours, her eyes begging for reassurance. You kissed her deeply, gasping into her mouth as she filled you.

She moaned like she’d come alive for the first time.

“You’re perfect,” she breathed, moving carefully at first, hips rolling. Each thrust was slow and deep, making your toes curl, until your nails dug into her back and you whimpered her name. That was all it took for her instincts to take the reins.

Her pace grew rougher. Her mouth latched onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin, each thrust hitting harder, deeper. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t think, only cling to her as she growled your name like a prayer.

“Take me. Take all of me,” she panted, voice breaking. “I’ll fill you—make sure no one ever doubts you’re mine.”

Her words made your stomach flip, heat pooling low. She wasn’t just talking; she meant it. Every thrust felt like a claim, every mark she left burned with possession.

You came with her name on your lips, body trembling, and she followed seconds later with a guttural moan, pressing deep inside you as if she could bury herself in your soul.

But it didn’t stop there.

Rumi kissed you feverishly, whispering apologies even as her hands gripped your hips again. “I can’t stop, Y/N. I need more. Please- let me.”

You were still trembling, still reeling from your release, but the raw desperation in her voice made you nod. She kissed you like she’d die without it, flipping you onto your stomach, pulling you back against her. This time there was no slow buildup—she drove into you with a needy rhythm that made your body sing with overstimulation.

“Good girl,” she growled against your ear. “Taking me so well. My mate. My perfect mate.”

Tears pricked at your eyes from the sheer intensity, but the pleasure drowned everything else. You clutched the sheets, crying out with each thrust, her voice in your ear the only anchor keeping you grounded.

“I’ll give you everything. Fill you until you can’t think of anyone but me. You’re mine, Y/N. Mine.”

Her words unraveled you again, and you came harder than before, body shaking as she held you through it. She pressed as deep as possible, groaning your name like a vow.

Time blurred after that. She pulled you into her lap, bouncing you on her cock, her hands squeezing your hips possessively. She pinned you beneath her again, teeth scraping down your throat. She licked sweat from your skin, kissed tears from your cheeks, whispered love and need and hunger into your mouth.

You lost count of how many times she made you fall apart. By the time dawn broke faintly through the blinds, your body was covered in her marks—neck, shoulders, thighs—everywhere. You lay boneless in her arms, utterly spent, while she curled around you with a satisfied purr vibrating in her chest.

Her eyes, finally, looked calmer. Clearer. But still possessive.

She nuzzled into your hair and sighed, “You’re mine. Forever.”

You were too exhausted to respond, only managing a weak nod as she held you tighter.

The door creaked hours later.

Mira and Zoey stepped inside, armed with bags of food, their expressions tense—until they saw the room.

You lay sprawled across the bed, hair tangled, body littered with bite marks and hickeys, sheets stained and clinging to sweat. Rumi curled proudly around you, her lips brushing your temple, a satisfied smile on her face.

Mira froze. Zoey’s jaw dropped.

“…Holy shit,” Zoey whispered.

Mira blinked. “…I think she actually broke her.”

Rumi cracked one lazy eye open and smirked, stroking your hair as you groaned weakly. “She’s fine. Just… tired.”

“Tired?” Mira hissed. “She looks like her soul’s been sucked out.”

Zoey snorted despite herself, clapping a hand over her mouth.

You buried your face in Rumi’s chest, too drained to care, and felt her purr rumble against your cheek. She kissed your forehead, utterly unbothered by their stares.

“She’s mine,” Rumi said simply, possessive pride dripping from her tone. “And I’m never letting go.”

Mira and Zoey exchanged one last horrified glance before retreating, muttering about needing bleach for their brains.

Rumi just chuckled, hugging you closer, her warmth wrapping around you like a brand. And as exhaustion finally pulled you under again, you heard her whisper one last time, voice soft and certain.

“My mate.”

__

The room still smelled like sweat and sex from earlier that night, the sheets clinging damp against your back as Rumi leaned over you. Her hair clung to her forehead, chest still rising and falling heavy, but her eyes burned like she hadn’t even started yet. One strong hand pinned your wrists to the pillow above your head, the other gripping your thigh to keep you spread open beneath her.

“Don’t think I’m done with you, mate,” she growled, voice low and husky, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You think a few rounds is enough? Hm? Not when I’m trying to make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

You shivered, your breath hitching when her hips shifted forward, her thick length dragging hot and heavy against your still-sensitive folds. The first stretch earlier had already made you cry out, but now, with your body trembling and slick, she slid between your thighs like she owned you.

“Rumi—” your voice cracked when the blunt head pressed insistently against your entrance. She gave you no time to recover, pushing in inch by inch, deliberately slow, making sure you felt every vein, every twitch of her cock as it filled you again.

“Say it,” she demanded, her breath fanning hot against your cheek. “Tell me what I’m doing to you. Tell me what you need.”

“I—I can’t—” you whimpered, but the way your back arched betrayed you. You wanted it. Needed it. Your walls clenched desperately around her, and Rumi chuckled darkly at the way your body betrayed you.

“You can. And you will,” she pressed, her hand sliding from your thigh to your stomach, pressing down hard enough that you could feel her cock pressing up against your insides. “I want to hear it, baby. Tell me you need me to fuck you full.”

Your thighs shook around her waist, a moan breaking free as the pressure in your belly made you dizzy. “I need you—god, I need you to breed me, Rumi.”

Her lips curled into a dangerous grin, and in one brutal snap of her hips she shoved the rest of herself inside, bottoming out so deep you swore the air was knocked from your lungs. Your cry echoed against the walls, cut off only by the way she kissed you—messy, claiming, her tongue shoving past your lips like she wanted to taste every broken sound you made.

“That’s it,” she hissed against your mouth, hips already pulling back just to slam into you again, harder, deeper, each thrust rocking you against the mattress. “That’s my girl- my mate. Taking me so good. You were made for this cock, weren’t you? Fuck, you’re clenching”

Her pace turned merciless, the bedframe knocking against the wall with every sharp drive of her hips. You couldn’t keep quiet, your voice spilling into the air in desperate whimpers, gasps, and choked moans. Rumi never once looked away, her eyes locked onto yours, drinking in the sight of you unraveling beneath her.

“Open your mouth,” she ordered suddenly, her hand leaving your stomach to grab your jaw. You obeyed instantly, lips parting, and she spat into your mouth without hesitation. You swallowed greedily, your own moan vibrating against her fingers as she smirked.

“Good girl. My perfect little breeding toy,” she purred, dragging her thumb across your spit-slick bottom lip. “I’m gonna fuck you until your belly’s round. Until Zoey and Mira see you walk out of here dripping my cum down your thighs. You think they won’t notice? Everyone will.”

The heat of her words alone nearly made you come, your body tightening helplessly around her. She groaned low in her throat, fucking you harder when she felt it, like she was daring your body to milk her dry.

“You like that, don’t you?” she taunted, leaning down to nip your neck, your collarbone, leaving hot bruises in her wake. “The thought of me stuffing you so full you can’t walk straight? The thought of carrying my kids? Say it. Say you want me to knock you up.”

“I want it!” you cried, the words tumbling out raw and desperate. “I want you to knock me up, Rumi, please—fill me, make me yours. Wan' your babies.”

Her laugh was dark, triumphant, and she buried herself inside you to the hilt, grinding against your sweet spot until your vision blurred. “That’s my girl. You’re mine, every part of you. Don’t forget it.”

You sobbed her name, pleasure ripping through you as your climax crashed down, your walls spasming around her cock. Rumi swore under her breath, holding your wrists tighter, grinding into you like she was trying to carve her name into your soul.

“Fuck—gonna fill you—take it, take all of it,” she snarled, her pace faltering as her cock pulsed deep inside. Hot spurts of cum flooded your womb, and you gasped, trembling from head to toe as the heat spread through you. She didn’t stop, not even when you cried out from the overstimulation, riding out her orgasm with brutal, possessive thrusts.

When she finally slowed, she didn’t pull out. Her cock stayed buried inside, plugging you full, her hand stroking your cheek almost tenderly despite the roughness of moments before.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” she murmured, kissing your temple. “Not until I’m sure it takes. I’m gonna fuck you again, and again, and again, until there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind—you’re my mate.”

Her words should’ve scared you, but instead they made your heart race, your body clenching around her length still inside you. And when she started to move again, slow and steady, you realized she meant every word.

guess whos alive and made it through the martial arts shit! I can't walk rn! But i did it!!

requests sent through my buy a coffee will be prioritized but ya girls broke and living off of monster energy so anything in general helps- Buy me a coffee <3