Tmnt Vs Street Fighter

He pulled back, his hands on either side of her face. “Look at me, sugar.” She opened her eyes. “I’m not a gentle man, Reena, but I can be. I’ll be gentle with you, I promise.” He ran the tip of his finger along her full lower lip, over the tiny scar that Simon’s violence had left there. “I’m not like – like him. I’d never hurt you. Not ever.” “I know.” “Let me take you to my bed and show you, babe. Let me love you.” **** Reena Mackay has been taken advantage of one time too many. This latest betrayal leaves her broke, betrayed, and possibly homeless. So when she’s offered a chance to split rent with Mitch Corrigan – a pro fighter desperate to escape a roach-infested hotel – she takes it. Survival leaves little room for caution. Mitch is dangerous by trade and forged by a brutal past. He expects to want women who look fearless. Instead, he’s blindsided by his attraction to Reena: soft-spoken, blue-eyed, and far stronger than she appears. He wants to protect her. Claim her. Keep her safe from a world that keeps hurting her. But Mitch knows fairy tales aren’t real... and women like Reena don’t choose men like him. He’s wrong. Reena understands violence better than he ever will, and her faith in people is hard-won courage. When a so-called Prince Charming shatters her trust, Mitch is the one who stands between her and the dark. The question is whether she’ll risk her heart one more time... and whether Mitch can be her forever, or at least her now.

I don't expect to be reunited with Reyn Aldric, the heir of Frostfang Clan, at a banquet to celebrate his ascendance. I also don't expect him to throw me out heartlessly. As I walk along a deserted street, my mind replays Reyn's mocking words. "You abandoned me for money and status, Ms. Valtara. Do you regret your actions now that I've become an heir? Throw this materialistic gold digger out! I don't want to see her anywhere near me!" And so, I'm thrown out of the banquet hall just like that. I fall to the floor. It's been five years. I didn't think he would still hate me so. Then again, it makes sense. Who wouldn't hate someone who left them when they were on the brink of death? But my dear Reyn isn't dead. He's alive and well; he can even get mad at me without worrying about it affecting his health. I'm about to die, though. I don't even deserve to be emotional. Why? Because my Heart of the Wolfkin beats in Reyn's body.

This is a story set in omegaverse. There are 6 genders namely; Alpha male, Alpha female, Beta male, Beta female, Omega male and Omega female. The Alphas are at the top of the food chain, followed by the betas then the omega females and, in dead last, the omega males. I'm Makino Hinata and I'm one of them, an omega male, according to society, abnormal. The Alphas have a different biological composition than the betas and omegas, they are able to produce pheromones that attract omegas, they have a ball-shaped thing at the end of their reproductive organ that is active during their ruts, they use this to impregnate the omegas, they are at the top of the food chain. The betas have no special quality, their basically normal humans. The omegas females and males are for breeding and have pheromones that attracts alphas into mating with them during heat, they have wombs for carrying babies. There are suppressant medicines that keep the alpha's rut and omega's heat in check, there are also medicines that incites heat in omegas. There are pills and shots for those types of medicines. In my last year of middle school when I had one of my heats, I was unprepared, walking home at night. Luckily there was no one on the street, or so I thought. "Hey, are you okay?" A voice came from behind me.

"It started as a prank. So...how did I end up on my knees for my neighbor in his office?" Zoe Justice (20) is finally free—no dorm rules, no nosy RAs, no lukewarm cafeteria mac and cheese. With her grandparents’ inheritance and a playlist full of bangers, she’s ready to celebrate her first night as a bona fide homeowner. New digs, new vibes, and definitely a party worthy of the milestone. She expected a few noise complaints and maybe a fussy neighbor or two. But she didn’t expect the cops to roll up before 9 p.m. and shut down the whole thing like it was some kind of crime scene. Apparently, someone across the street didn’t appreciate her welcome-home energy. And when Zoe spotted him—the smug, too-serious man on the porch, standing there like he owned the cul-de-sac—she knew exactly where the betrayal came from. So naturally, she let her middle fingers and death glare do the talking. Veterinarian or not, Mr. Peace-and-Quiet was officially on her list. And she? She wasn’t going down without a little payback. But what happens when the prank war turns into a love affair neither of them saw coming?

Riley thought her mother’s new marriage would bring stability. Instead, it led her straight into danger. Her new stepbrother, Noah, is everything she should fear. He is tattooed, ruthless, involved with the mafia, and dangerous in ways she can’t resist. His grey eyes promise destruction. But Noah isn’t the only threat in the mansion. David, her mother’s husband and Noah’s guardian, is the most ruthless mafia boss of all. He married for one reason: revenge. And Riley is the perfect pawn. Now, trapped between a stepfather who wants to ruin her and a stepbrother who will kill to keep her, Riley’s heart is caught in a fight of loyalty, and forbidden desire. He’s her salvation. He’s her stepbrother. Loving him might cost her life. •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• “Look at your phone, princess. You see the black Jeep across the street? I’m in it. You’ve got thirty seconds to walk out on your own, or Im going come in and carry you out over my shoulder in front of every single one of your little friends. And Ethan gets to learn what happens when he puts his mouth where it doesn’t belong. Clock’s ticking.”

Raised in a quiet village, she grew up as an ordinary girl, or so everyone thought. Switched at birth with the wealthy family’s true daughter, she was only reclaimed by her birth parents at eighteen, a stranger in the opulent world she was born into. Rumors paint her as the “evil sister,” and few know her true talents, she’s a hidden protégé of a renowned jewelry designer, a masterful street racer, and a girl with a photographic memory who tops the class she started at the bottom. Then she’s handed over as the substitute bride to the wheelchair bound heir of the wealthiest family, whose own arranged fiancée, the girl who took her place at birth, refused him. He sees her as a pawn in their families' game. But on their wedding night, her quick wit and unexpected spark shatter his expectations when she teases, “Keep me happy, or I’ll let everyone know your legs are just fine.” Intrigued and captivated, he’s soon swept up in her unpredictable world of secrets, talents, and a charm that’s anything but tame. What begins as a marriage of convenience turns into a whirlwind romance as he discovers his "accident bride" may just be the love he never knew he needed.

"Just join me for a drink perhaps?" Her bushy brows rose suggestively at me. She knew my answer, she knew what I'd say. I grabbed the bottle off her scrawny hands and said "You know, for a one time thing, this has become a regular." To be honest, I was actually looking forward to meeting up with her. Not that I was going to admit it to her face. "Like therapy sessions from two dumb, ill-favored kids. Who are trying to give each other easing words." She was right. Though her stumbled movements indicated a slight intoxication. Suddenly, out of the awkward moment, she looked up at me with a sad smile and said. "I might be a street girl but is it too bad to wish for a normal life? Go to proms? Have new clothes? Shelter? Love? Do I not deserve?" Her teary eyes searched deep into my soul. I was unaware of the lack of distance between us. When did we get so close with barely an inch barrier? "Flare..." that was all I could say because then all I could feel were soft lips against mine. Her lips! And it felt so nice. Subconsciously, I grabbed her little body and went for another kiss, this time, a deeper kiss.

I had been married for five years, but my belly remained flat—no sign of a child. Then, on my 35th birthday, I suddenly found out I was pregnant. When I shared the good news with my husband, he flew into a rage. Instead of being happy, he accused me of carrying someone else's baby. Only then did I learn he had a mistress. He even claimed he wanted a "real" child—one that truly belonged to him—with her. I thought he was just being irrational and would eventually come to his senses. After getting an amniocentesis, I immediately brought him the paternity test results to prove the baby was his. He came home acting like a changed man—hugging me, kissing me, claiming that he didn't cheat on me. The very next day, he booked a hotel and threw a banquet, announcing to all our friends and family that he was going to be a father. However, when his mistress saw the news, she completely lost it. She showed up with a group of people, blocked me in the street, and—despite my pregnancy—started punching and kicking me. "You shameless woman! How dare you carry my man's child? Are you that desperate to die?"

Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now—billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn’t mind. I’d crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That’s when it hit me—he didn’t love me. He didn’t even see me. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I’d ever made. Because my one-night stand isn’t just some random guy. He’s richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he’s not letting me go.

Everyone in the social circle of Kingsford said I was nothing more than a lapdog raised by Charles Mankin. I was always at his beck and call. I did every filthy, ludicrous thing for him under the sun. When he street raced, I rode shotgun. When he drank himself senseless, I made him hangover soup. When he chased girls, I prepared protection for them. Over time, everyone knew: Charles had a dog who never ran, never bit back, no matter how hard he kicked. They all said I must be madly in love with him. Even Charles started to believe it. So he pushed further, more freely, more cruelly, crossing lines as if they never existed. Then came my twenty-fifth birthday. He, in a rare stroke of mercy, said he'd celebrate it with me. But instead, what he got was the news that I was leaving the country. He went berserk, charging through the airport like a man possessed. I peeled his fingers off my wrist one by one, smiling like I'd never been happier. "Don't be stupid," I told him, still smiling. "That was never love." That night, Charles smashed apart his family home like a rabid dog.