Experience Tumblr like never before
X Oc - Blog Posts
Apart from self-insert, why not show y'all my oc Ribcage.
She's my little baby but she gets her shit rocked and loses a few things. I'll explain as I make her ref sheet.
As you can also see, she's shipped with D16/Megatron cuz lets be real, he's hot
A/N: I got you. Now, just a heads up, I’m not skilled on anything, I just been wanting to practice my writing skills. Anyway. I hope you enjoy this small fic I made.
Rikiya x OC (OC belongs to @villain-sympathizer)
Word count: 1.4K
Content: Mischievous baby unintentionally play matchmaker for her dad.
(I dont know how summarize, but enjoy nonetheless)
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
Baby Matchmaker
By: Simpie
It was a rather busy day in the shopping mall today. Plenty of people shopping or running errands as they fill up different shops and boutiques one by one.
In one such store, Johann is doing some shopping for not only himself but for his 9-month-old daughter, Adelynn, who’s playing with one of the toys she snatched off the shelves, while strapped onto her father's chest while he looks for new coats and sweaters.
She was almost a carbon copy of him. She had blonde hair just like her father, and his lavender eyes. Only a tab bit darker than his.
Johann decided it is a great day to spend time with his daughter after a long week of working. He missed his little girl, so he thought the best thing he could do is to spoil her with new toys and books that they can try out later once they get home. But, there were necessities too. Such as more baby products and certainly, more baby-proof items.
Since Adelynn started crawling, she’d get herself into mischief. Not only that, she's rather sneaky about it too. Sneaking into his office just to interrupt her daddy while he’s in the middle of a meeting, just so she can ask for him to pick her up and sit on his lap, or when want to grab something off the table by pulling on the tablecloth.
Johann loves his daughter, but sometimes he wishes she could just sit in place for just a few minutes.
After looking for a while, Johann pulled out a couple of sweaters from the rack that catches his eye. Before he could try it on, he carefully removed his daughter from her baby strap and placed her in her stroller. Which made Adelynn whine in protest as her father strapped her on.
“It’ll just be for a few minutes, sweetheart, I promise,” he stated, placing a kiss on her head. Adeylnn pouted, making her father chuckle. Johann takes off the baby strap and hangs it on her stroller, along with a few other shopping bags they brought earlier, as he makes his way toward a nearby mirror. Pulling his daughter’s stroller with the help of his quirk.
Johann carefully sets aside his daughter's stroller and starts trying on the sweaters. Meanwhile, Adeylnn takes a quick look at her father, then decides it is the best time to play with him. Without a second, Adeylnn unbuckled herself, then slowly started climbing down her stroller and crawling away.
Though she didn’t crawl too far from her dad, something, or rather someone, caught her attention. Crawling her way across the floor, Adelynn makes her way toward a man trying on a suit jacket while looking at himself in the mirror.
The baby girl watches close by as the man checks to see if the suit is the right one for him. Adelynn can help but stare up at the man, which seems to quickly grab said man's attention when he spotted her reflection in the mirror. Making her smile.
“Well, hello there, little one.” The man turned to face her. Making the little girl giggle some more as she starts clapping her hands. The grown man crouches down, giving Adelynn a good look at the man.
He was fair looking, with long orange hair that complimented his dark green eyes, and a rather long, pointy nose. Adelynn didn't hesitate to grab onto the man’s nose and start giggling, causing the man to chuckle at her adorable little gesture. He then proceeds to pick up the giggling baby. Seeming drawn to her dark lavender eyes.
“Where are your parents, little one?” he asked with a hint of concern. Adelynn didn't seem to care too much, as she grabbed his nose with her other hand and started babbling. The man looks around for a bit, and can't seem to find a sign of any parent in distress, at the moment.
“Let's see if there's anyone looking for you. They must be having a heart attack right about now.” The man said as he proceeded to a nearby cashier's front.
Johann had just about to finish trying on a few other clothes for himself. “What do you think about this one, baby? I think this one would be great for our-” as he turns to face his baby, he’s instead greeted by an empty stroller. Johann’s heart suddenly dropped and he starts to panic for a bit, looking around in hopes of seeing his baby girls somewhere.
“Adelynn? Adelynn!” Johann started looking everywhere for her. Under the clothing racks, between the shelves, everywhere. Though he wasn't the kind of man who would jump to conclusions, if anything were to happen to his little girl, he’d lose his mind.
He knew that his daughter could have gone too far. After all, she was only a baby.
Without thinking twice, Johann approached the nearest cashier lady that he could find. Hoping that maybe they might be able to help him look for his daughter. “Miss. I need your help. I can’t find my daughter. Her name’s Adelynn, she’s only nine months old, with blond hair, and lavender eyes. She was-” “Excuse me? Is this your daughter?”
Before He could continue, a calm voice caught his attention. Followed by the sound of an adorable, yet familiar cooing. Johann looks to his left and see’s Adelynn, in the arms of a grown man, chewing on the suit’s tag. Johann can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of his daughter safe.
“Thank you so much, sir.” He said as he reached to grab Adelynn, only for her to pull closer to the man. “I'm so sorry. She is usually not this affectionate with other people.” Johann explained. “Oh, it's quite alright.” The man chuckled, passing Adelynn to her father.
“Thank you. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble for you,” Johann stated as he grabbed her and pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head. “Oh, not at all. She made her way to me. She was just a little ball of sunshine.” The man mentioned.
“I’m Johann, by the way.” he introduces himself as he reaches out a hand while keeping the other hold on Adelynn, who’s also got her out her little arm reaches. “Rikiya Yotsubashi, it's a pleasure meeting you and your beautiful daughter.” He reached out and shook Johann’s hand.
“So your name’s Adelynn?” Rikiya lowered himself to her level. “What an exquisite name. It was such a pleasure meeting you.” He smiled as he shook her little hand, making her giggle in glee. Rikiya can't help but get a good look at the baby’s father, noting some key similarities. “I see where she gets her looks.” he complimented, making Johann blush. To which he hides with a cough.
“Again, Thank you so much for finding her. Maybe I could interest you by getting you a coffee or tea?” Johann offered. Rikiya paused and thought for a moment. “I’d love that. Thought, maybe after I finish my shopping.”
“Yeah, yeah! Absolutely. I’m almost done with mine, anyway.” Johann mentioned as he adjust Adelynn in his arms. “Splendid!” Rikiya cheered. Rikiya reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card and a pen and started writing on the back. “Here is my number if you ever want to contact me.” He offered his business card with both his phone number attached to it.
Johann took the business card off his hand to take a good look. “Detnerat. I heard good things about this company.” He commented. “Well, I only want what's best for the clients,” Rikiya answered blatantly. Johann can't help but look at Rikiya, wide-eyed. “You own Denerat?” He asked, amazed.
“Well, it was my father’s. Then I inherited it.” Rikiya calmly mentioned. “Wow! That must be a lot of work?” Johann asked. “It is. But, you get used to it.” Rikiya stated. “Anyway. I should be going now.” He added.
“Sure, sure. I’ll just grab my thing and we’ll be paying shortly after.” Johann mentioned. “I guess we’ll see you in a bit?” He said as he adjust Adelynn in his arms. “Sounds like a plan.” Rikiya replied with a smile on his face. “I’ll see you two later, then?” he added.
“Yup, nice meeting you Rikiya. Say bye-bye, Adeylnn.” He said as he gently grabs his daughter's arm and waved it. Adeylnn smiles at Rikiya as the two walks away. Keeping her eye on Rikiya as he waves back with a smile on his face. Knowing that this won’t be the last time she’ll be seeing him.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
A/N: Hello! This is a little (early) Christmas gift for @villain-sympathizer as Johann and Adelynn belong to them. Anyway. I hope you enjoy this simple fic I made. Feel free to leave your thoughts and comments. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Second chance
Chapter 8 - First night of a new life
Second chance
Chapter 7 - Taken aback by time
https://archiveofourown.org/works/46787068
The Oogie Boogie Man
Chapter 2
Oogie and Monsieur le Mare venture into the forest of dead trees...
The Oogie Boogie Man
Chapter 1
Second chance
Chapter 6 - Just follow me...
Yumi is determined to stay with Gyutaro but we have to win are right
Second chance
Chapter 5 - Take me
we are slowly getting to the heart of the matter ^^
Second Chance
Chapter 2 - the beginning of a demon
How naughty ⛓️🔐
CUFFED
– pairing: law x vice admiral!reader, kid x vice admiral!reader, ace x vice admiral!reader
– nsfw for Law and Kid, sfw-ish for Ace
– summary: who knew that sea stone handcuffs can break a man down?
“Are you serious?” He asked as you forced him onto a chair, a sea prism collar securely placed around his neck.
You smirked as you cuffed his hands behind him after he sat down. He was powerless and at your mercy. You finally had the upper hand, and you loved it.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” you said as you took off the collar. “And now, pirate, I’m going to make you pay.”
Kneeling down, you noticed his growing arousal. As you stroked his clothed length with your fingers, Law couldn’t help but shiver.
“You think I’ll beg?” He asked. “You’re wrong.”
You slowly pulled his pants down, exposing his erection. You kissed up his length, and right when you reached the tip, you grazed your tongue over it making bite his bottom lip. “Tell me.” You whispered, sliding your fingers up and down his base.
“You’re getting nothing out of me.” He gritted his teeth.
“Don’t make this harder on yourself, Captain,” you said, slipping your pants off. You sat on his lap and slipped just his tip in you.
“Ah-“ his voice betrayed.
“If you want more tell me where they are.” You said seductively, slowly going in. Then you pulled out, biting his ear and whispered, “and I’ll give you what you want.”
Kid struggled against the handcuffs, grunting as he tried to free himself from the restraints. Unfortunately, that only knocked him over so he was on the floor still sitting on the chair.
“What’s this?” You asked calmly. “Is this the terrifying Captain Eustass Kid of the Kid Pirates? Laying on my floor?”
“Shut up.” Kid growled.
You leaned forward pinning his throat on the floor with your heels, making Kid gasp. But what caught his eye the most was a glimpse under your dress. “Bold of you to expose your pussy.”
“Want a taste?” You whispered, taking your heel off his throat. Kid bit his lip. It had been a while since he ate a woman out. You crouch down, your pretty pussy within tongue’s reach.
Kid’s breathing intensified as he imagined you sitting on his face while he ate you out, him grabbing your thighs and digging his nails into them.
You slowly brought it closer, letting him give your clit a lick. The way you moaned made him shudder.
“If you want more,” you moaned, letting him continuously lick you like a dog drinking water, “start talking.”
“My poor sweet Ace,” you cooed as you undressed in front of him. His eyes widened from your forward action, not sure how to handle the situation. “Do you think you’ll be able to hold back?” You asked, your uniform falling on the floor.
“Eh, good luck breaking me.” He replied with a smirk. “I’m not so easily bested.”
“Says the man at my mercy.” You smiled.
Instead of walking in front of him, you went behind and leaned your body against his, your breasts against his back. Ace gulped. Especially when you leaned forward and ran both sets of fingers down his chiseled chest, stopping at the rim of his shorts.
“I’m not talking.” He murmured, hiding his needy tone.
Oh how easy this man was to please.
As you kissed his ear and bit the lobe, you brought your fingers up to his shoulders.
“Then I’ll make you.”
“I’m not talking.”
You smirked, seeing his cheeks turn a slight shade of red. “You will.”
Oc imagine because I can.
Warning ⛔️: mention of making out and hickeys
(Also I’m working on a story of my oc’s and I’m going to use this page for the weird and chaotic stuff, and with this short imagine is set further in the story ye-)
Konig: yeah ever since I was a kid I always had trouble sharing things with people.
Soap: well with your past I can honestly see why-
Moth (oc) walks out of his room covered in hickeys and red lipstick stains all over him: you really had to put on a hard to remove lipstick didn’t ya. Oh, hey Soap!
Soap is to stunned to speak 👁👄👁
Konig: hehe~ sorry my love
Moth: yea yea what ever you say
A red carpet romance ch.1 -(models attract rock stars like flies to honey)
In 2006, Chiara Muzann, a strikingly tall and elegant model with an air of confidence that turned heads everywhere she went, was making her way up the fashion industry ladder. With her long, flowing brunette hair and piercing green eyes, she had recently made waves on the runway in Milan and New York, and tonight, she was attending a high-profile red carpet event in Los Angeles.
Dressed in a shimmering silver gown that accentuated her height, Chiara was the epitome of grace as she glided along the red carpet. She paused occasionally to flash a dazzling smile for the photographers, enjoying the glamour of the moment. The event was teeming with celebrities, and the air was electric with excitement.
As she made her way towards the entrance, Chiara spotted Pete Wentz, the charismatic bassist of Fall Out Boy, who was also one of the night’s guests. Known for his distinct style and mischievous charm, Pete had a playful aura that often made him the center of attention. With his spiky black hair and edgy attire, he stood out amidst the crowd of formally dressed celebrities.
Chiara noticed Pete glancing in her direction, and when their eyes met, she gave him a warm smile. Pete, never one to miss an opportunity for a bit of fun, approached her with a confident stride.
"Hey, I’m Pete," he said with a smirk, extending his hand. "And you must be a skyscraper."
Chiara chuckled, shaking his hand. "Chiara Muzann," she replied. "Nice to meet you, Pete. And yes, I’ve heard that one before."
Pete laughed, clearly amused. "Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I mean, it’s not every day you meet someone who can literally look down on me." He gestured playfully, noting the noticeable height difference between them—Pete stood at around 5'6", while Chiara towered over him at nearly 6 feet tall, even without her heels.
Chiara grinned, enjoying the light-hearted banter. "Well, I’m not used to looking down at people either, so I guess this is a first for both of us."
Pete’s eyes sparkled with interest. "You know, you’re not just tall—you’re kind of intimidating in a really cool way. I like it."
Chiara raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Intimidating? Me? I thought rockstars were supposed to be fearless."
"Oh, I’m fearless," Pete retorted playfully. "Just… selectively so."
They shared a laugh, and for a few moments, the bustling red carpet around them seemed to fade away. As they continued to chat, the connection between them was undeniable, and Pete couldn’t help but be captivated by Chiara’s wit and charm.
"So, Chiara," Pete said, leaning in slightly, "what are the odds I can convince you to join me for a drink inside? You know, if you don’t mind stooping down to my level."
Chiara tilted her head, pretending to think it over. "I suppose I can bend the rules for one night," she replied with a sly smile.
"Great," Pete grinned, offering her his arm. "Let’s make some height-defying memories, shall we?"
As they walked into the venue together, Pete and Chiara continued their playful banter, the height difference becoming just another part of their unexpected chemistry. That night on the red carpet marked the beginning of a story neither of them would soon forget.
♡☆ヽ(o´3`o)ﾉ☆♡
After the red carpet event, Pete Wentz and Chiara Muzann decided to keep the night going. Pete, ever the spontaneous one, suggested they hit up one of LA’s hottest nightclubs. Chiara, always up for an adventure, agreed with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
They arrived at the club to a burst of flashing lights and throngs of excited fans, but Pete smoothly guided Chiara through the crowd, his hand lightly resting on the small of her back. Inside, the music was loud and pulsing, the bass vibrating through the floor. The energy of the club was infectious, and it didn’t take long for them to find themselves on the dance floor, surrounded by a sea of moving bodies.
Under the neon lights, Pete and Chiara danced like they were in their own world. Chiara’s towering figure moved with a graceful rhythm, her dress shimmering under the strobe lights. Pete, despite being noticeably shorter, matched her step for step, his playful energy perfectly complementing her elegance. They danced close, the space between them disappearing as they moved to the beat, lost in the music and in each other.
They laughed, swayed, and occasionally leaned in close to share a few words that were lost in the noise but seemed to speak volumes. Between dances, they shared drinks at the bar, Pete making Chiara laugh with his witty remarks and Chiara teasing him about how he’d have to stand on a stool to keep up with her. It was clear that neither of them wanted the night to end.
As the hours passed, the crowd in the club thickened, but Pete and Chiara remained inseparable, moving seamlessly from the dance floor to their corner at the bar. For them, time seemed to blur; every glance and every touch felt electric, making the outside world fade into the background.
Eventually, the club started to wind down, and they decided to head out. Arm in arm, they made their way to the exit, still buzzing from the drinks and the thrill of the night. But as soon as they stepped outside, they were greeted by a swarm of paparazzi. Flashes went off like fireworks, and shouts from photographers filled the air.
“Pete! Over here!” one shouted. “Chiara, who’s your new friend?” another called out, the questions and flashes coming at them from all angles.
Chiara instinctively moved closer to Pete, her hand slipping into his as they tried to navigate through the frenzy. Pete, unfazed by the chaos, squeezed her hand reassuringly and flashed a grin for the cameras. Chiara, tall and poised even amidst the flashing lights, gave a coy smile, maintaining her composure as they pushed through the crowd.
Pete leaned in close, his voice just audible over the noise. “Guess we’re the new headline,” he joked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Chiara laughed softly, glancing down at him. “Well, I guess they couldn’t resist the height difference,” she teased, playfully bumping her hip against his.
Finally breaking free from the paparazzi, they ducked into Pete’s waiting car, the door shutting out the flashes and chaos. As the car pulled away, Pete looked over at Chiara, still holding her hand.
“Quite the night, huh?” he said, his smile still bright.
Chiara nodded, her eyes meeting his with a look of amusement and something else, something warmer. “Yeah,” she agreed, “one for the books.”
♡ ○ (^з^)-☆ ○ ♡
As they drove off into the LA night, the city lights casting a soft glow through the car windows, Pete and Chiara couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something unexpectedly special.
As Pete’s car pulled up to Chiara’s apartment, the city was quieting down, the buzz of nightlife giving way to the early hours of morning. They sat for a moment, both reluctant to end the night. Chiara turned to Pete with a soft smile, her green eyes reflecting the faint city lights.
“Thanks for tonight, Pete. I had a great time,” she said sincerely.
Pete smirked, leaning back casually. “Anytime. I mean, who else could keep up with you on the dance floor?” he teased, his playful demeanor making her laugh.
Chiara unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned down towards Pete. Despite their difference in height, she moved gracefully, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice tender.
Pete’s expression softened, his usual cocky smile replaced by something more genuine. “You know, I could stay a little longer,” he said, almost as if reading her thoughts.
Chiara hesitated for a second, but the connection between them felt undeniable. “You don’t have to leave,” she replied, her voice warm and inviting. “Why don’t you stay?”
Pete’s eyes lit up, and he nodded. They stepped out of the car, heading up to Chiara’s apartment. Once inside, the atmosphere was cozy and intimate, a contrast to the club's loud chaos. They kicked off their shoes and sank into the comfort of her living room.
What began as a casual nightcap turned into quiet moments of conversation, lingering glances, and shared laughter. Eventually, as the night stretched into early morning, they found themselves in her bedroom, where exhaustion and the comfortable warmth of each other’s presence pulled them into sleep.
When Chiara woke up the next morning, the sunlight was streaming softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. She stirred gently, realizing Pete’s arm was wrapped around her waist. She turned her head slightly to find Pete still asleep beside her, his hair tousled and his expression peaceful. Chiara couldn’t help but smile at the sight, the events of the previous night playing back in her mind.
For a moment, she simply watched him, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the morning. As if sensing her gaze, Pete slowly blinked awake, a sleepy smile spreading across his face when he saw her.
“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice husky with sleep.
“Morning,” Chiara replied softly, shifting slightly to face him better. They lay there for a few moments, wrapped in a comfortable silence, neither in a hurry to move. The world outside felt far away, and the only thing that mattered was the cozy cocoon of the bed they were sharing.
Pete adjusted himself, pulling Chiara closer as he tucked his head against her shoulder, his arm draped lazily over her. “So, what’s the plan?” he asked with a yawn, his voice light and content.
Chiara shrugged, running her fingers gently through his hair. “Honestly? I’m in no rush to get up,” she admitted. “we could just stay here fora but .” she whispered as she placed her palm against his cheek
Pete chuckled softly, his eyes closing as he relaxed against her. “Yeah, I’m good with that,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he settled back into the comfortable stillness.
They spent the morning cuddled up in bed, talking in hushed tones, occasionally drifting in and out of light sleep. It was easy, unpressured, and perfectly imperfect. They laughed at shared memories from the night before, made casual plans to hang out again, and enjoyed the simplicity of being in each other’s company without the spotlight of the outside world.
For Chiara and Pete, it was a rare, unexpected morning of tranquility—a sweet moment of connection that felt like the perfect ending to their night of adventure and the promising start of something new.
A: Pete, my beloved ♥️
Anyways, Chiara is a tall baddie, and Pete's a shirt king, I love them 💗
Gold Serpent of Shie Hassaikai
“Come here, you little fucking thief!!” A child pushes through the busy streets of Musutafu. His slender legs carried his whole skinny body towards a cold park. It was cold and empty, just like his stomach as it rumbled. He walked to an empty bench and sat down, a sigh of relief leaving his dry mouth. He took a huge bite out of the bread he had stolen.
He had no choice. He was hungry, practically starving. Every passing person looked at him with pity yet did nothing to assist his poor situation, just… watching him suffer was “enough” to help him.
It did not.
It had only filled him with rage.
His rage slowly filled his stomach everytime a hero walked by. Instead of their assisting and gentle hands– like he expected from stories– he was left with scraps being tossed at him by them. The scraps were mere scraps, nothing useful for his survival. Only a gesture of nothing. Absolutely nothing.
With one another bite, he felt his stomach acids coming up to the surface. He placed his half-eaten bread and hurled forward, pressing his arms against his aching stomach as all of his food on the grass, now a waste. His stomach growled for more food but he had none, only his half-eaten bread.
He grabbed his bread and ate it slowly but faster than before, eventually eating it all and it settled alright in his stomach. He stood up and slowly wobbled to the alleyways. His legs slowly dragged his light body towards the busy streets once again, his intentions to steal arose again. His eyes danced around, looking at the colorful stores bustling in the cold night. A shiver went down his pale skin, feeling a cold coming which only caused further problems to himself.
With a sigh, he decided to find a shelter, as the night was getting colder by each passing second. He walked into a shop– hoping for the store owner or manager to let him stay for the heaters– only to be pushed out of the shop like some stray dog, disgusting and filthy to be let in. His knees scraped the ground, bruising and slight bleeding occurred. The little boy only stood up once again and struggled to walk again, tripping every once and a while.
He found himself under the highways. It was cold… but warm enough than in the middle of the streets. He sat down and huddled up. His knees pressed against his chest, and his arms wrapped around his scraped and bruised legs. He dropped his head, feeling himself ready to sob.
He would do anything to go back to his loving parents, his lovely house, and the warm and cozy fireplace that only brought warmth and comfort to his whole body.
But he knew it was no longer possible. They were dead. What could he do? Nothing.
Closing his eyes, he tried to gather some sort of warmth from his cold surroundings. Friction from his hands only brought little heat to comfort him. His eyes open once again, his black eyes becoming teary-eyed. He hated his situation but he could not do anything to change it. Afterall, he was just a boy.
“Are you alright, young man?” He looked up with widened eyes. It was a tall and broad man. His face was nothing but a black blank space, unable to see his face. He couldn’t tell what sort of expression he had on his face. Angry? Pity? What was it?
The man reached forward to touch the boy, causing him to flinch and backed away. The man paused, his hand caught up in the air. He stared right back at the boy’s black eyes, his gold pupils glowing which piqued an interest in him. “Where are your parents?” he asked. No answer. The boy’s eyes followed as the old man sat down on the muddy land under the highway. He was a bit surprised to have seen this. He had a proper suit on, tie and everything. His thoughts consisted of ‘why is he sitting? His suit..’ and ‘what a nice suit…’ as he analyzed the man.
“Mr. Chisaki..” The old man was shocked to have heard this, a quiet gasp left his mouth. “That is my name… how do you know that, young man?” he looked closer, curiosity seeping out of him. “It is your Quirk?” the boy looked at him with caution… but nodded.
The man was now fully intrigued by his answer. ‘Perhaps an analytic Quirk?’ he wondered. The grey-haired man stood up, peeling his suit jacket off and crouched down once again and wrapped him around like a burrito. The little boy, shrivelled and cold, instantly felt warmth from the big and perfectly tailored jacket. He looked up at him with slight hope. Hope that he could stay with the man, now that he feels somewhat comfortable with him.
“Come with me, son. I’ll help you.” He extended his rough hand towards him. This was the first time the boy had seen the man’s smile. It was warm and gentle, unlike his rough and buff exterior. Who knew a tough guy would have such a smile? The boy looked down at hand in front of him, inviting him to a better life.
His small and cold hand extended forward, placing gently in his hand. The warmth of the old man’s hand instantly heats up his own cold hands. Mr. Chisaki guided the boy to his arms and he lifted him up, his legs and torso held up. The boy sighed a sigh of relief, feeling the warmth from the man’s instantly warming him up. He relaxed almost immediately. His grip was tight and secure.. Yet it was gentle and reassuring, reassuring him that everything’s going to be okay.
“What’s your name, by the way?” Mr. Chisaki looked down, hoping for an answer. He wasn’t sure the boy had a name, but he wanted to ask to make sure. “...Tomo…” Despite being his name, he always hated it, never wanted anyone to call him such a name. It seems Mr. Chisaki had catched up on his hate for his name from the pause he had. “I could, of course… give you a new name? A fresh new start.” The boy immediately lightened up at the suggestion. His head shook frantically, practical stars in his eyes, filled to the brink with excitement. Mr. Chisaki chuckled, enjoying his excitement.
“How would you like the name, Kouki ?” -----------------------------------------------------------
★☽A/N: Okay so... this is an odd idea for a new X OC I want to do! If this gets a bunch of notes and such, I might make it into a series and of course, will be published on Wattpad like my other series, A Drop of Blood and A Shine of Hope!
My Logan x oc fanfic where they meet and immediately just start living together in a cabin in the middle of the woods out of convenience cause neither of them have a family or home (pre-Xavier’s school) and she made him take her home from the bar he was fighting at by literally locking his car and not letting him in until he agrees, slow burn romance
I read a story in Wattpad a while ago that I’ve been unable to find its the batboys x ocs. I don’t remember all of the ocs names but two were evie and torrie. They were in a mall at one point and Jason put under where from VS in Tim’s hood and Tim chances him through the mall and cops start chasing them and eventually Batman catches them and then they vacation in a beach house. I cannot find this story please help me.
sorry this took so long @ultimateotaku666 @corpse-husbands-bunny
𝟏
They say the moon is a silent witness to all things—wars, betrayals, quiet deaths in the dark. If that's true, then Ayame Shingetsu was born beneath its cold, watchful eye, forged not by warmth but by stillness, silence... and blood.
She moved like moonlight—quiet, beautiful, impossible to grasp. Her presence never announced itself. It lingered. The last thing her targets ever saw was not her face, but her shadow stretching across the ground, slender as a blade.
Hunters whispered her name with respect. Assassins said it with fear.
Ayame wasn't known for kindness, nor cruelty. She was known for results. Precise. Unflinching.
Some called her a ghost. Others, a weapon.
But Ayame? She called herself nothing at all.
Because the moon doesn't speak.
It watches.
And waits.
Just like her.
The snowfall was light, but the blood in the air was heavy.
Ayame crouched on the edge of a tiled rooftop, her breath still, her heartbeat quieter than the wind. Below, the target laughed—loud, obnoxious, surrounded by guards who were too relaxed for men about to die.
"Minister Retsu of the Eastern Trade Council," she murmured, almost thoughtfully. "Ninety-seven bribes. Twelve assassinations. One child."
She flexed her fingers once, as though testing the air. That was all the ceremony she needed.
They never saw her drop.
She descended without a sound, her feet landing silently behind the nearest guard. Her Nen flared around her like a cold, invisible storm, focused and precise. In the blink of an eye, her fingers sliced the guard's throat. The man dropped before his mind could even process the danger.
The others fell in quick succession—each a flawless, deadly motion. Heads exploded with the force of her Nen-infused fingers, organs ruptured under her invisible strike. One tried to scream. But no sound came as his body crumpled to the ground, his jaw shattered by the force of Ayame's targeted touch.
The minister, frantic, scrambled back, slipping on the snow now stained with his men's blood. "W-who sent you?" he stammered, wide-eyed, hands trembling.
Ayame's eyes were still—unmoved, unaffected. Her gaze pierced through him like the cold moonlight, distant and remorseless.
"Your sins did."
And then she moved.
Flashback – 7 Years Ago
Ayame stood barefoot on the cold floor of the Shingetsu dojo, blood dripping from her chin, her wooden practice sword cracked in half.
Her grandfather towered over her—stern, unblinking.
"You hesitated," he said.
"I spared her eye," Ayame whispered, her voice low.
"You don't spare your enemy's vision. You steal it. You leave nothing they can use to fight you."
She lowered her gaze to her broken weapon. A tremble ran through her, but not from fear.
From shame.
"Again," her grandfather commanded. "Until you forget how to show mercy."
Back in the present, Ayame stood over the minister's lifeless body.
She looked up at the sky. The moon was full.
It always was when she killed.
Her inherited, 'Infinite,' hummed gently around her, a silent barrier that kept the world at bay. The minister's blood soaked the snow beneath her feet, but her expression remained unchanged. She felt nothing, not even the satisfaction of her work.
Turning away, she slipped into the shadows once more, her mind already on the next task at hand. Her purpose wasn't to feel, wasn't to question. She was a weapon, and the world was full of those who needed to be silenced.
Her eyes, like the cold moon above, were never anything but still. Always watching. Always waiting.
The city lights below were a haze of neon and motion, but Ayame's apartment sat high above it all—silent, sterile, still.
She unlocked the door with a flick of her hand, stepping into the cool dimness. No shoes to remove, no clutter. Her space reflected her perfectly: efficient, minimal, untouched by sentiment.
A single katana—ceremonial—hung on the wall, not for use but for legacy. The rest of the apartment was empty save for a low table, a kettle, and a window that framed the moon.
She shrugged off her coat, bloodstains still drying on the fabric, and let it fall to the floor.
Then, her phone buzzed.
Ayame stared at the screen. No name. Just a number. One she had memorized, not saved.
She picked it up.
Silence on the line for a beat. Then—
"Still breathing, girl?"
Ayame didn't smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Barely. You interrupted my tea."
Isaac Netero chuckled on the other end, the sound low and worn but full of life.
"If you have time for tea, you're not moving fast enough."
"I already moved," she replied. "He's dead."
"I know," he said. "The Eastern Trade Council is already panicking. You've caused quite a stir, as usual."
Ayame poured hot water into a cup, watching the steam rise. "I didn't kill him for politics."
"No," Netero said thoughtfully. "You never do."
A pause.
"You sound... colder," he added.
"I am," she said. "Is that concern, old man?"
"Observation," he answered lightly. "You're becoming more like your grandfather every year."
Ayame didn't reply. Her eyes drifted to the city below, to the lights flickering like dying stars.
"He trained you well," Netero went on. "But he trained you to survive. Not to live."
"I don't need to live," she said. "I need to finish what I started."
A beat of silence.
Netero's voice softened. "One day, the killing won't be enough. And when that day comes, I hope you've left a little bit of yourself unbroken."
Ayame sipped her tea.
"I won't," she said simply.
And hung up.
The silence returned, but this time, it felt heavier.
The moonlight spilled across the room, casting long shadows behind her.
She didn't move. Didn't speak. She just sat there—alone in a world where even her enemies feared to follow.
Flashback — 5 Years Ago
Outskirts of Kukuroo Mountain
The wind cut through the highlands like a blade, whistling between the jagged rocks. Ayame stood alone on a cliff's edge, overlooking a cluster of destroyed caravans far below. Smoke curled from what remained—burnt cargo, shattered crates, and corpses.
She didn't kill them.
But she watched it happen.
Watched the raiders strike. Watched them take. Watched them leave.
She could have stopped it. But it didn't matter.
Ayame turned to go—silent, cold, already fading into the background of the world.
Then came the voice.
"You didn't intervene."
She paused.
"You saw everything. And did nothing."
Ayame didn't look back. "They weren't mine to save."
Footsteps approached slowly—measured, soft against the gravel, but every step carried weight.
"You're strong," the man said. "But strength without purpose... that's a tragedy."
She turned slightly, just enough to see him over her shoulder.
Isaac Netero.
She recognized him immediately—not from stories, but from instinct. No one else had that kind of presence. It wasn't even his Nen. It was his stillness. A stillness only people who had mastered destruction ever carried.
"I didn't ask for your wisdom," Ayame said.
"I'm not offering it," he replied. "I'm just curious."
Ayame raised an eyebrow.
"Curious about what?"
"What kind of world a person like you wants to build... or destroy."
Ayame looked away again, her expression unreadable. The wind pushed her hair across her face.
"I don't want to build anything," she said. "I'm just looking for something interesting."
Netero's eyes narrowed, not in judgment—but calculation. The kind of look you give a puzzle you don't quite understand.
"You're not finished yet," he said quietly. "You think you are, but you're not. There's something missing in you."
"Let me guess," she said, bored. "Compassion? Redemption?”
"No," he said. "A reason."
Ayame didn't reply.
She just stepped past him and began walking down the hill.
Netero didn't follow. He only spoke once more, almost to himself:
"You'll either find it in someone... or lose yourself to someone who makes you forget you needed it."
She kept walking, her silhouette disappearing into the fog.
At the time, she didn't know what he meant.
But one day, she would.
𝐀𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮
The world of Hunters was a place where power ruled, where only the strongest survived, and those who weren't ready to sacrifice everything were quickly forgotten. Among the many names whispered through the dark alleys of cities and the desolate landscapes of battlefields, one name stood above all others. A name that struck terror into the hearts of assassins, hunters, and criminals alike. That name was Ayame Shingetsu.
Born into a bloodline so old that its origins had been lost to time, Ayame's very existence was a testament to the dark legacy of her family. They were not the loudest or most numerous, but their power was undeniable—shrouded in mystery and fear. And at the center of it all was Ayame, the last living heir of a lineage whose strength lay not in their size or numbers but in their unparalleled mastery of perception and control.
Ayame's story began long before she ever stepped onto the battlefield, her fate already carved out by the eyes she inherited. The Shingetsu family was renowned not for their prowess in combat, but for a unique gift passed down through generations—the Eyes of Infinite Perception. These eyes allowed the user to see everything: not just the present, but the movements, intentions, and emotions of others as if they were written in the air, visible to only those who had the gift.
The ability to perceive the future, even in fleeting moments, gave her family members an unparalleled advantage in battle, negotiation, and survival. The world was theirs to control—nothing could remain hidden from their sight. But it was Ayame who took this gift to an unprecedented level, mastering it with such skill that even the most seasoned warriors found themselves helpless in her presence.
Her eyes, however, were not the only power she possessed. Her Nen abilities were as deadly and precise as the family legacy she carried.
At the heart of her arsenal lay "Hōrō" (the Blade of Fate)—a strike so swift and lethal that even the most powerful opponents had no time to react. The secret behind Hōrō was not in its physical force but in its absolute precision. Ayame could read the movements of her enemy before they even moved, anticipating their every action. She could calculate the angle of a blow, the timing of a strike, and the exact point of impact with a mere thought. In a single motion, she could end a life. The target would never know what hit them. No one could evade Hōrō—its speed was beyond human comprehension, and Ayame's ability to control it made it an unstoppable force.
Unlike most Nen abilities, Hōrō did not require excessive training or years of discipline to perfect. Instead, it was an instinct, a natural extension of Ayame's perception and understanding of the world around her. In battle, Ayame's enemies were always one step behind, struggling to keep up with the unrelenting flow of time and motion that she could control with a mere flick of her wrist.
But it was Shingan—the ability that struck fear into the hearts of those who heard its name—that truly set Ayame apart from anyone who had ever existed. Shingan (the Mind's Eye) was not a weapon forged from strength or brute force. Instead, it was an ability that demanded nothing more than a subtle gesture, a mere flick of the finger. With that tiny motion, Ayame could cause a person's head to explode in an instant.
The power of Shingan lay in its unpredictability and its simplicity. It did not require a large amount of concentration or energy; it only needed Ayame's mind to target her victim. She could strike from a distance, with no weapon, and with no need to move her body. The precision of Shingan was absolute—no one was safe, not even those with the fastest reflexes. The ability was so deadly that it made any direct confrontation with Ayame a suicide mission. Shingan was her trump card, one that she wielded with casual indifference.
But Ayame's Nen abilities were not the only thing that made her invincible. At the heart of her power was Infinite, a barrier so potent that it could repel anything and everything that came into contact with her. Infinite was a force field, a nearly impenetrable wall of energy that encased Ayame in a protective shell. It was an extension of her will, a reflection of her unyielding nature. No attack, no weapon, no Nen ability could breach Infinite unless she allowed it.
For Ayame, Infinite was not just a defense—it was a statement. It symbolized her absolute control over the battlefield. No one could touch her, no one could harm her, unless she deemed them worthy. Those who tried to strike her found their weapons bouncing off harmlessly, their blows rendered meaningless. And in moments when Ayame was feeling merciful, she would deactivate Infinite, allowing her enemies to approach. But that was only ever a rare mercy—because when she did allow someone close, they were already condemned. Her enemies never saw the attack coming.
The barrier also reflected Ayame's internal philosophy—a belief that she was untouchable, above the chaos of the world around her. While others relied on weapons, training, or brute strength, Ayame saw the world through the lens of her eyes and the calm control of her Nen. The battlefield was nothing more than a game to her—one that she had already won before it even began.
But Ayame's power was not without its cost. Her eyes, while giving her an advantage no one else could understand, also left her detached from the world around her. She could see everything—the movements, the thoughts, the emotions—but she felt little. It was as if she were watching a play, where everyone else was an actor, performing for her amusement, and she was the only one who knew the ending. The struggles of others were meaningless to her. She saw the patterns, the inevitable outcomes, and found little joy in the drama that unfolded.
Her interactions with others were cold, distant. She rarely laughed, rarely showed emotion. Her expression was often one of mild amusement, like a spectator watching a show they had seen a thousand times before. Ayame found conflict amusing—not because she enjoyed the violence, but because it was predictable. People fought for control, for power, but they never understood that it was all futile. She was the one who held all the cards.
Despite her indifference to the world around her, Ayame was not without enemies. The world of assassins, hunters, and power-hungry factions was full of those who sought to challenge her, to prove themselves superior. Some thought they could break her, defeat her, take away the power that had made her infamous. But they were wrong. They always were.
Ayame's power was not simply her Nen abilities or her inherited gift. It was her mind. She could see the world around her and understand it in a way no one else could. She knew their moves before they made them. She anticipated their plans before they even thought of them. And with that knowledge, she controlled them all.
Her reputation as a cold, calculating, and invincible force spread like wildfire. She became a figure of myth and legend, a name that echoed through the halls of the most dangerous organizations. Some sought to kill her. Others sought to manipulate her. But none succeeded.
There was no one who could stand against Ayame Shingetsu. She was the blade of fate, and no one could escape her vision, her power, or the inevitable end she brought. Those who crossed her would find themselves destroyed, and those who served her would find themselves in the presence of a woman who saw all, knew all, and could end it all with a single gesture.
In the world of Hunters, Ayame was more than a name. She was an unstoppable force. And her story was only beginning.
He was a void wrapped in scripture. She was an untouchable storm.
Chrollo Lucilfer. Leader of the Phantom Troupe, a man who speaks softly but bleeds chaos. A thief of abilities, a manipulator of fate. He moves like a shadow, unreadable, unstoppable, always ten steps ahead of the world he's trying to burn.
Then came Ayame Shingetsu.
An enigma with a barrier called Infinite, untouchable by blade, bullet, or man. Her smile is rare, her mercy rarer. She doesn't chase power. She is power. Feared by assassins, respected by Hunters, and bored by almost everything... until him.
Their meeting wasn't fate. It was a warning to the world.
Because when two forces of nature collide, something always breaks.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Toxic relationships, Possessiveness, Overprotectiveness, Violence, Murder, Gore, Explicit sexual content, Manipulation, Psychological abuse, Dark character dynamics, Morally ambiguous or villainous behavior, Disturbing imagery and themes, Death and intense emotional distress
Parts:
Ayame Shingetsu
1
2
3
Wake up everyone New ghouljams post just dropped
Bad news I just watched the VVitch and I have fae!Price and Witch thoughts.
You stand at the edge of the forest, the shadows within lengthening with the path of the sun. You hold your cloak tight around your shoulders, keep your eyes fixed on a single point. A crossing of branches. You've seen it once before, the way the leaves around them seem to twist and draw other branches in. Fae signs. Proof of magic in the area. Magic you want.
The shadows grow longer, the chill of evening settling in now, you haven't moved in hours. If your patience does not prove fruitful tonight you'll come again tomorrow, and tomorrow, until you get what you want. You have always relied on your own determination to make the impossible happen. Still, as you feel the sun's rays begin to sink below the horizon you feel your confidence wavering. Perhaps no one will come.
It's with the soft purple light of dusk that you hear it: the silent whisper of the forest. A low voice that rumbles in your chest, strokes over your cheeks. "What do you want?" It asks.
"What can you offer?" I don't want to be alone anymore, you think, tamping down your desires before the voice can hear them.
"The morning, the afternoon, the evening," the voice seems to smile, skirting around your perception, "a new perspective on the world, a pretty dress, a quiet hearth."
"Magic," you whisper to yourself, bidden by the voice to offer your own plea.
"For a price," it agrees, "You'd never know anything else." Not loss or heartache, never loneliness or isolation. You tip your head when fingers skate along your neck, eyes closing as they trace your jaw, grip your chin. "You are a pretty thing, aren't you?"
There's a man in front of you when you open your eyes. Tall, handsome, he has a beard to hide his mouth and eyes like the winter's sky. You blink at him, it would be polite to thank him for the compliment if he weren't fae. That knowledge doesn't stop the way your cheeks heat up at his continued staring. His rapt attention feels heavier than the stones you village would use to crush you if they knew what you were doing. Thank God they don't.
"You still believe in god?" The man asks, as if he could hear your thoughts.
"I don't know what I believe," honesty, you have the strangest feeling that you wouldn't be able to lie to this man.
"Is that why you came to me?"
"You have something I want," you tell him, "magic, freedom."
He tips his head, regarding you with a smirk, it's strange the chill the heat in his eyes sends down your spine. "Magic won't give you what you're looking for," he tells you in return, "but alright."
You can't help the smile that splits your face. Riddles or not, price or no, you're getting what you want. Something of your own, making the stupid choice for once in your life.
"I look forward to seeing what you do with it," the fae man tells you. You barely have the time to ask how you're supposed to do anything when you don't have it yet, before he kisses you. Pulls you in with an arm around your waist and kisses you as your fingers leave your cloak and twist into his shirt. It's a rush, like being dunked into cold water, your body filling with an unknown that seeps into every crack and corner. Magic that tingles and shivers in the tips of your fingers and the shake of your breath. He lets you go and you twitch to pull him in again, only to be met with a low chuckle.
"Next time little witch," he tells you, ghosting his lips over yours, "good luck."
He's gone when you open your eyes.
YOU FEED OUR BRAIN WORMS SO WELL JFCBJNVRSKNVA
Yes- hi- hello, tis I, the moth that will ram into your window :3
Anyway
My brainrot for Fae!Price is so hhhhhgggnnnn and I've backed myself into a corner by crafting the idea of Witch Darling trying to fluster Price in return for all the times he's done so to her. Like- they're just doing their daily thing and Price pulls out a cigar but Witch just snaps her fingers and lights it for him and he's like "Why'd you do that?" And Witch immediately follows up nonchalantly "Pretty boys shouldn't have to light their own cigars."
And Price is fucking floored
Like- he's had experience with people flirting with him, especially debtors trying to get a better deal when talking to him, but when it's coming from Witch?
GOD DAYUM
Okay back to lurking for me, take care of yourself and drink water if you haven't already. I will find a way I to your house and bring you water if you don't <3
Hi, hi, hello! I am taking care of myself! Had a good birthday and didn't write anything which was very weird but very nice to have a break. I return with Witch and Price because I desperately miss writing for them.
I've had this idea of Witch showing up at the 141's usual bar and causing trouble and this is the perfect ask for it. Here's Witch being well... far too pretty for her own good, and Price being a terribly weak man for her. Witch's dress is based on one from 1964's "What a Way To Go" which has some of the most spectacular textile artistry I've ever seen.
Price's knuckles drag up your back as you lean against the bar to order a drink. You're not used to this many eyes on you, but it's worth it for the single pair of cool blues that study you like they've never seen you before. His fingers hook in the double line of pearls that trail down your spine to your skirt, thumb counting over every one before his fingers reach the sleek silk of your dress.
"Can I buy you a drink?" You ask him, Price's eyes follow his hand where it hovers over your bare skin. More than you think he's ever seen of you. You like throwing him off, it's rather fun seeing him at a loss for words.
"Fuck sweetheart, buy the whole bar for all I care," he presses his hand against you, spreads his fingers wide against the small of your back. Each one a threatening display of his adoration. "What're you doing here?" He can't ignore the stares anymore than you can. A witch in a fae bar, your back exposed, vulnerabilities on display, you can feel the hunger that rolls through the room. You're not as easy a target as they'd all like to think.
"Good looking guys like you shouldn't buy their own drinks, so here I am."
"Here you are," Price breathes, you like the heat in his eyes. It's hard to match him, you aren't exactly flirty. Not by nature at least, and you don't have his easy self assurance. You're confident in yourself, but not quite in the same interpersonal sense. Still, if anything was going to set you up for success it would be Price. His eyes, his touch, there's something to having his attention so fully focused on you. A room full of people and yet you're the only two in it that can touch each other.
You signal the bartender for two of whatever Price drinks, watching him pull a cigar from his pocket in your periphery. You snap your fingers to conjure a flame and hold your hand out to him. The little red flame flickering on your pointer finger dances happily as he takes your hand and holds it to his cigar. You try not to be too flustered when he moves his cigar to extinguish your flame on his tongue. The slick muscle curling around your finger, making a heat coil in your stomach. He settles your hand on his shoulder, forces you to turn on your stool to watch him press his lips to the inside of your arm.
"You almost make me wanna wear a suit," he sounds, hm, it's an admission, but not one that lines up with his actual words. Not a lie, never a lie, a rephrasing of a truth. He almost makes you want to ask.
"You'd look good in a suit," is all you can think to say.
"You look good in white," he responds, the hand on your back tugs you off your seat. You do your best to avoid stepping on his toes as he pulls you to stand, turns your back against the bar, and boxes you in. A physical barrier between you and the open room, Price's strong arms rest on either side of you, his fingers tapping the bar as you stare up at him. You're supposed to be making him flustered. You really have to up your game.
You slide your hand from his shoulder to his chest, feeling the firm muscle there, the slight give of his skin and the tension your touch brings to him. There's a tightness in his jaw when you look up at him, a flinty edge to his eyes as he watches the bartender.
"What're you thinking about pretty boy?" You ask. He blinks, surprised, and looks at you. His eyes trace over you, gaze sliding like magma over your form. You try to keep your breaths even, try not to be affected by him. When he looks at you like that you can't help wanting more of him.
Your fingers slide down his chest to hook in his belt loops, and Price draws a shuddering breath. He cannot talk to you like this. Whatever has gotten into you is bad for his health. Whatever has gotten onto you as well. He takes a long drag of his cigar, tries to keep his eyes off the cling of silk against your chest. Made much more difficult when his smoke takes it upon itself to fall over you, slide down the soft curves of your body so he can feel the shape of you.
What's he thinking about? You, always you. In every position, you.
The bartender sets two whiskey glasses between his hands, behind you. Their eyes rest too long on your exposed shoulders. Price gives them a warning growl, enjoys the way it rips from his throat, the way your fingers tug ever so slightly in response. You tip your head back to see what he's growling at and- God you are just- a tease, that's what you are. The way your neck stretches for him, the way your lips part, your back arches. He tips your head forward again, keeps your pretty little self contained and off the bar.
"Are both of these for me?" He rasps, God he hopes so, could use all the liquor he can get.
"One's mine." Are you keeping your voice low like that because you want to drive him mad? It's working.
"You even like whiskey?" He's never seen you drink, but he would bet you're preferential to something sweeter.
"I can drink it, if that's what you're asking," you twist to grab your glass, and quickly tip its contents into his. Price takes another long drag of his cigar watching you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip. You lower it with a sigh, your lipstick staining the edge. You hold the glass out to him, or up for him, as he exhales.
Oh you are sweet the way you breathe in his smoke.
Price takes the glass from your fingers and keeps his eyes on yours as he takes a drink. He savors the way you watch him, how focused you are even with your eyes lidded. He hands the glass back, and watches you swallow a pull of the amber liquor as he smokes. When you lower the cup from your lips he tips your head back with a gentle finger under your chin, leaning down to hover his mouth over yours and breathe. He feels you pull his smoke into your lungs, feels where it escapes your lips to curl over your cheeks, your jaw, soft magic to make your head spin. His favorite kind.
"You're awfully forward tonight little Witch," he hums, feeling you tilt your head, just barely brush his lips with your own.
"Trying to give you a taste of your own medicine," your honesty always hits him between the ribs, Price smiles, "is it working?"
"Perfectly," he feels your tongue flick against his lip, catching a last hint of whiskey, and his hand wraps around your neck. God what you do to him. "The things I would do for you," he breathes, you're testing his resolve. Lucky he hasn't spun you around and pressed you against this bar. It wouldn't be the first time someone had gotten what they deserved in here.
"Don't you mean to me?" You smile, he can feel the curve of your smile, so tantalizingly close.
"No," he takes a half step closer, feels you press yourself top to toe against him, "I mean on my knees, with my tongue, with my fingers, with my cock, with whatever you asked for. For. You."
You shudder against him so nicely. A valiant effort, he thinks, but how could you ever think you could beat him at his own game?
Meet Cute... Not Really
Warnings: Does cursing need a warning? Really bad translations (my other languages are a bit rusty)
This story begins with two total strangers meeting on a disgustingly rainy day. Some may enjoy the rain.. Reyanni does for sure.. But there are those who prefer the sunshine or even the snow compared to what pain the rain usually brings... for once it brings a meet cute? Not really?
The moment Lance went for a walk down the streets of Switzerland in a thin jacket and an old umbrella while skies were dark, would be one he'd remember for a lifetime... How could he forgot afterall it was the day he met our darling main character....
November 9, 2022~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>
The moment she saw that man enter her bakery she knew she was in for a journey. Some people say that they don't believe in an automatic interest.... but for Reyanni, the moment she locked eyes with him she knew three things.
She loved the way the rain seemed to make him look like a wet puppy.
She hated the way he entered her bakery with a scowl
She knew cleaning and tending to her Aphrodite altar before she left home that morning was a great idea.
So of course she decided to get closer.. by working the register (because in her words it's her bakery and she can do as she pleases). When he finally got to the register and she asked if she could take his order something in the air shifted. This feeling however shattered the moment he harshly placed an order for a black coffee and a slice of banana bread while looking down at his phone. He was quite snarky with it which rubbed her the wrong way
Reyanni POV
If he wants an attitude, I'll give attitude.
“Your total is 7.50 and I need a name for the order”
At that moment he finally looks at me. And I feel what little integrity I had left slip away like the sun behind the clouds on a rainy day. Now I know what you may be thinking….. Reyanni don’t fold for a random ass man on a random ass monday…
“Could I also add a cheesy hashbrown bagel to that order”
“Uh sure… your new total is 11.25”
And just as soon as he came… he left.. Leaving nothing but curiosity and a tiny bit of unbridled rage… But i’d probably never see him again.. How stupid of me to believe that
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>
A few days later that same handsome stranger walks in. but this time she talks to him beyond taking his order and he responds… from there he becomes a not so regular customer until they exchange numbers. It’s only after five months of texting and phone calls that she learns that he’s no ordinary man, but a formula one race car driver. Despite his worries she doesn’t care one bit about that.
Quick little note: I'm not feeling too confident in this chapter but I wanted to get it done (mother nature snuck up on me so now all work is grueling) Anyways hope you all enjoy and the next part should be up within the next two days, it's exam season so I don't have a set schedule.
Please help me , I've forgot what my favorite bakugou x oc or reader I dont remember) fanfic story was, so if you happen to know what it is or if the author deleted it thx. It's on wattpad
Details:
First intro page had pictures goddess with wings for the oc and a demon with fading blackness with horns
The story start off with them already knowing each other
She is forced to pretend she’s dating Bakugos in the first chapter bc his brother comes down to help but is also making her marry a stranger to make her family happy so she pretends she loves Bakugos , he’s in on it too
I’m one chapter she sat on his lap just to prove it
Her broth becomes the sub statue teacher
The broth is the one that told Bakugos the ox is his soulmate
The demon first appears in the book naked and everything med confused as fuck
She wrote this long note how she hated them
In a chapter she writes a really long letter bc she was in therapy about how her family treated her badly it was so well written almost like a poet , she broke down reading it teloporta away away
The demon went searching she eventually came back through the hole in the wall
In therapy the therapist is concerned with bakugous aggressiveness she calls balugou and he calls all sweet and worrying
-family of angles with god like quirk
Oc can see soulmates and the girls ask for theirs but she won’t say
-she was only supposed to be able to heal, but she got the men's quick too fight
-brothers soulmate is a demon that has been with there family for a while
-she flirts with the demon in a chapter
She gets flustered by the demon because he is so well built
The quirvk
She has multiple
All women in her family get healing powers but ox got both
The first time you were
-teleport
She hurts tokyama in the us hero’s competition on accident ,no one belived her his quirk somohiw disappears, she goes to see him and puts her hand on him but it flowed and healed him , she runs to class and tells everyone
-in like the first chapter her brother tells her her mother's dead already
The guest teacher is her brother
In the first chapter the demon teleports into the classroom naked
-pretends to be with bakugou to dhow her brother she's dodnt have to go on a blind date
She sits on his lap in the first couple chapters to convince her brother she’s dating him
The demon pulled bskugou out of class and said that he is her soulmate
-her father was really abusive and in one chapter she had a nightmare but her quirk brought all of class 1a into it but everyone in 1 could see the dream were they saw her nightmare of her in a church getting assaulted
When she was little
In the morning they confront her and she’s hella nonchalant
-has wings
-Soulmate is bakugou
She hates all her family especially the brother cause he also hit her
-has a lot of chapters more than 100
- one chapter the demon teleports in on her and bakugou having sex
- in a chapter she faught her brother in training and she went all out and it didn’t end well bc somone gets hurt
She had daddy issues and she’s really confused by it in one chapter bc she hates her dad so bakugou explains it to her
Mistress Lady
Warning: f/f, non-consensual touching, brainwashing, manipulation, amnesia, innocent reader, mention of rape, mention of blood (light).
She speaks to you with beautiful words, promising you eternal life and the realization of your deepest desires.
You obey her like a servant who obey his master.
How many years pass after you agree to become his sevant? You can't remember. The memories erased from your mind.
She lets you do whatever you want for some reason, that indirectly sets you apart from the other servants.
What draws his attention to you? Was it your innocence? Was it your frail body? Was it your inability to do anything for yourself?
When you try to ask her, she laughs and says:
"You inquire for something that doesn't make sense. How can you not see it? You have eyes and you cannot see, but I have a cloth over my eyes, and I can see everything perfectly."
You can't understand… Or you don't want to understand.
"It's nice... " You murmur. You gently touch the belly of the hedgehog, caressing it skin gently.
"Just a hedgehog, why are you fascinated by that thing? There are different types of animals more exotic than that thing. Of all of them you only want to see this one." She's on your side, wagging her long tail in a bored way, her arms intertwined. Waiting for you done with that one.
The hedgehog trembles in your hand, trying to escape your gentle touch.
"This thing is cute..." Another gentle touch on the belly and the hedgehog calms down. "And it's the one I want to see for now… The reason I want it is because it reminds me of a fly trying to escape from a spider's web, he is the fly and I am the spider but with the difference that I don't just want to eat him I want to love him."
Yidhra just stay there, listening to you, listening to every word you say carefully.
Everything remains in a serene silence, Yidhra lost in his mind, and your mind lost with the gentle caresses of the hedgehog.
"Mistress Lady... " You talk with her. Getting her attentin.
"Yes?" Yidhra shakes her head at you. waiting for your question.
"Can we take care of this?" You show her the hedgehog with an innocent childish smile.
She watches you for a moment, putting her hand on her forehead tired of this situation. "Do not."
Your innocent smile instantly breaks when she says that.
"Why?" You leave the hedgehog, your once happy face now turning into a pout. Tears threatening to pour out of your eyes.
"We don't have time for this, come on." She leaves you alone in an instant.
"I'm sorry, little hedgehog, but… I can't take you with me." You put the hedgehog on the ground, get up and start walking behind Yidhra.
Again… You can't remember what you do next, you just know that you were in a strange place in the middle of a flower bed, feeling the last rays of sun on your face
Your attention moves to the flowers around you and then to your arm, where a painful pulsation is felt. It's hurt.
"Finally you wake up." Yidhra's voice appears in the midle silence.
You jump with your head towards her, Yidhra is very tall compared to you, her posture shows authority and power. And yours only shows fragility and naivety.
"The sun will go down and the night will come out. Isn't beatiful?"
"Yes." Do you remember, the hedgehog. Your attention shifts and Yidhra notices it. And she doesn't like it. "I really love the little hedgehog…" A soft murmur escapes your mouth, but Yidhra hears it.
Hiss
"How that simple animal can be loved by you? You're not supposed to remember it." She shound really angry.
"I really want it, please let me have it. "You ask naively. Pressing on the subject, but she really has enough of this.
"I said... No! I'm telling you for a long time, we're not going to have an animal with us." She hisses "That animal will distract you from your tasks!" She grabs your arm with such force, hurting you. "You'll obey me! I'm your master! You belong to me!
"It hurts." You tears fall down insteanly. "You, you scared me." You try to free out her grab.
"Oh, Honey, you shouldn't have scared of me." Her face changes to a smile, she was enjoy your tears, your fear, your pain. "I just want to protec you. That is bad?" Yidhra cleans your tears with his finger.
Her long, sharp nails wiped away your tears, cutting your cheek in a fine line.
“Ouch.” you instinctively moved away from his hand.
She just smiled, looking at the thin line of blood slowly trickling down your cheek, and slowly releasing your arm.
She was getting excited.
Your fear was interesting.
You leave me no choice.” She took the cloth that covered his eyes with his fingers and lifted it revealing his eyes, while parting his lips in a pointy-toothed smile.
Her bright, deep purple eyes caught your attention, hypnotizing you in the process. Completely forgetting everything around you to only focus on the brilliance of her.
"What are you doing standing up!? Go back to your bed! Can't you see you hurt yourself!?" A concerned woman's voice invaded her mind.
"I just want to play… Like them."
"You can't! And you never will! Please stop hurting yourself!"
The voices differed in tone, the first spoke desperately and uneasily and the second voice spoke nonchalantly exasperating the woman.
"I only care about you… You're the only thing we have."
"You dont need to care about me, im not a child anymore." The young girl looks at her feet.
The woman doesn't care what she say. She forced her to return home.
That young girl... looks like her, but she can't remember who the other woman is or when that happens.
When she recovered, she feels a thick fluids between his hands.
She switches her vision to her hands, discovering that the liquid was blood. Fresh blood, falling down her arms and ending in the flowers below her.
"W-what?" she can't believe what happened, where is that blood from? Or the blood is not hers? If the blood isn't hers, who's?
"Oh, honey. My dear Xia." Yidhra's voice.
"Xia? That isnt my name..." You remember.
She never calls you a name, calling you like Honey all this time, living and thinking Honey was your name. It was only a nickname that she gave you, and you taking it as your real name all this time.
Now that you remember, you never had one, it was just her calling you Honey, but never your real name.
Because right now?
But now the most important thing was the… blood, blood that dripped from your hands.
Sea lo que sea que ella haya hecho, te dolia demaciado el cuerpo, como si hubieses sido golpeada.
The moment she uncovered her eyes, you didn't know anything, just that memory, what had happened? She… forced you to do something you didn't want to?
Had she touched you too?
Certain intimate parts of your body hurt, did she do something to you?
If the blood wasn't his or yours… did that mean maybe you had killed someone?
Impossible
As someone like you could even hurt another person, you are just… someone fragile and weak, too naive and innocent to the point that it could be said that you are just… someone too foolish.
A quick thought ran through your mind, you looked at her quickly, the smile that you thought was affection now just looked… just arrogant…
Weapon.
You quickly searched your surroundings, if you hurt someone… that meant there was a weapon involved.
"Are you looking for this?" Her mocking voice called out to you. You quickly saw her again. "This is what you want to see so much?" She showed you the weapon.
You instinctively covered yourself when you saw the weapon fly from his hands, but you were able to calm down when the weapon just landed at your feet.
A pickaxe.
Dirty, rusty and old, fresh blood running down the tip.
You brought your legs closer to your chest, curling up on the ground, had you really done something like that? How? How!?
You felt the scaly texture imprisoning you, Yidhra's claws ran over your belly, rising slowly, brushing your breasts, collarbone, shoulders until reaching your face. Where she held you by the cheeks while she laughed.
"What's wrong my little Xia? Is there something you don't like?" She laughed.
"L-likes me? What's wrong with you!?" You tried to push her away but her grip was stronger.
His smile faded.
"Do you not like what I do for you?" She pressed harder on your cheeks. "Isn't that enough? Do you want more? Can I give you more"
You felt the burning of the wound on your cheek.
"W-what are you talking about? Of course I don't like this!" you shook yourself "What have you been doing to me all this time?" You grab her hands with the intention of moving them away from your face but she is stronger.
She was silent for a while, then laughed.
"What did I do to you?" She scoffed. "The real question here is. What have I not done to you yet?"
His hands came down once more, touching your chest affectionately, thick tears welling up on your terrified face.
"I've been too good to you this time and always rewarded you, isn't it time to take my reward too?"
Your clothes slowly parted from your body, you squeck in fright.
"Obey me like a good servant."
I will be gentle.
AAAAHHH ZATZ X Y/N
I REAPET ZATZ X Y/N
Zatz rizzing Y/n for her affection ‼️ALSO A BIT OF SUGGESTIVE ‼️