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moondirti · 23 days

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simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

#should've made this a proper fic #it's longer than i expected it to be #anyway.#simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #ghost #x female reader #call of duty #fanfiction

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yelmatattoo · 1 year

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istiklal cad halep psj 62/105 giriş kat whatsapp: 0542 324 23 41 #tattoo #tattooed #inked #inkedman #grenade #grenadetattoo #armtattoo #elbombası #elbombasıdövme #elbombasıdövmesi #koldövmesi #erkekdövmemodelleri #erkekdövmeleri #moda #yenidövme #yenidövmeler #güzeldövmeler #besttattoos #yarımelma #taksi̇m #istanbul #beyoglu (YarımElma Taksim Dövme Stüdyosu) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoKfuiioeV8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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northmountaintattoo · 2 years

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Amazing illustrative heart grenade by @jjrenae 🫀💣 We have a couple open slots for tomorrow left! Contact the shop to get booked before we are all filled up! Happy Wednesday 🤩 #grenade #heart #anatomicalheart #grenadetattoo #hearttattoo #illustrative #illustrativetattoo #blackwork #blackworktattoo #chesttattoo #tattoo #aztattoo #tattooers #aztattooer #aztattooshop #phxtattooshop #hellcity #northmountaintattoo #northmountaintattoophoenix (at North Mountain Tattoo) https://www.instagram.com/p/ChXzRuuPcnt/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#grenade #heart #anatomicalheart #grenadetattoo #hearttattoo #illustrative #illustrativetattoo #blackwork #blackworktattoo #chesttattoo #tattoo #aztattoo #tattooers #aztattooer #aztattooshop #phxtattooshop #hellcity #northmountaintattoo #northmountaintattoophoenix

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dimepdf · 1 year

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★ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒. + 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

masterlist. / taglist. / any request?

synopsis. you were a sucker for jealousy sex, man.

pairing. toji fushiguro x reader

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, established relationship, domestic fluff, dilf!toji, milf!reader, tattoos, jealousy sex, exhibitionish, Toji being childish, cowgirl position, hints of subby Toji | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍 800+ w.c.

Dilf!Toji who comes home from picking up Megumi and your daughter Nya from their kindergarten after-school activities.

Toji scolds the two for running down the hallway as soon as the front door opens, their little pitters from their feet slapping against the wooden floor as they rush into the living room where you were lying snuggly just to tackle you into a hug.

The two are all smiles and giggles as they kick off their sneakers and snuggle up next to you.

They were practically glowing with excitement, as if they hadn't seen you just hours before, on the same day you had taken them to school. "Mommy! Mommy! Can I show you what I made in art today?"

Despite posing the question, the girl had already started unzipping her bag and shuffling through the strange, cryptic amount of things she had packed inside of her small Hello Kitty backpack.

If you hadn't had quick enough reflexes, you'd have thought she was trying to take your eye out by shoving the bendy wire figure right into your face.

"Oh wow, honey, it looks so creative; I can tell you worked really hard on it." You honestly couldn't tell what it was—fuzzy purple, red, and green covered wires all bent into some sort of shape that you could only assume to be a figure, but you put on your best motherly smile for your child.

"It's you, mommy! Can you tell, I even gave it a big butt." When Toji came into the living room, slouching his shoulders on the back of the couch and leaning forward.

Looming over the exchange, you decided to change the direction of the conversation before he could get remotely lewd about his favorite body part of yours.

"Did you make anything, Megumi?" Despite not being your biological son, the coal-haired boy still showed the same amount of admiration for you as your own daughter did.

But it was still very clear that Megumi had all of Toji’s attitude, with the boy showing no interest in his sister's show-in-tell and not even bothering to cover up his glare at her art project. "That looks like crap," Megumi states bluntly, earning a dramatic gasp from Nya.

The girl held the figure to her chest as if she were protecting it from him.

"You look like crap." Toji teases, no better than the children. As the three start bickering back and forth with each other, you reach for the TV remote and pause the Netflix show that you were trying to binge.

It was like you were raising three kids, as the argument only became pettier by the second.

"Why don't you tell mommy about how Itaduri’s mom liked your tattoos?" Megumi shrugged, your brow furrowed in surprise as the two children abruptly switched teams to go against their father.

"Is that why she was touching your arm?" Nya asked naively, unaware that she had just unpinned a grenade.

Your palm pushed away Toji’s face as he tried to distract you with a kiss, curving him as you dug for more information between the two. "And what was daddy saying while she was touching his arm?"

“He said thank you.”

Now that you understood the cost of having a super hot husband, you weren't blind to Toji’s charm, but over the years of being in love with him, it was pretty easy to say that he was just blessed with his attractiveness.

Having women throw themselves at him was nothing new,it was just another daily problem added to the things that Toji had to go through.

It's not like he entertained any of the women that came up to him because he truly only loves you, but that didn't mean that you weren't allowed to be a little needier sometimes.

Plus, he wasn't complaining much while lavishing you with affection. His hands lingered on your body long after the kids had fallen asleep for their naps.

It was daring, having to straddle his lap on the couch in the family living room knowing that the kids could wake up at any moment, but for Toji.

It was just another goal he was willing to complete, seeing how fast he could make you cum in that circumstance.

Handing his hand down to your thighs, he gives them a squeeze as he catches his breath, watching you ride him with an admiring glint in his eye. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?"

"Really? more beautiful than that other bitch?" You knew Itadori’s mother wasn’t a bitch.

If anything, she was a kind lady who knew how to make really good brownies.

You’d probably scalp her if you ever saw her skirting with Toji again.

No hard feelings, but she should know better than to touch what was yours.

"So much—ah, you’re the most beautiful woman I know." Toji whimpered, reaching his tattooed hand in between and sharing some attention to your clit.

You were a sucker for jealousy sex, man.

🔖 @chloee0x0 @yazmunson @kawatabae @haitaniwhor3 @pluzo @hey-gurls69 @momoewn @kogoshidied @disaster-rose @hoohoohope @pidwidge @jadeisthirsting @zuuki @watyousayin @tojishugetiddies @rumi-rants @justanotherkpopstanlol @awkwardaardvarkforever @lexiinanime @melty-kisses @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ficti0nalslxt @Morpheus_sturridge @sheluvzeren @kodemzx @IplaytheTromboneandI’maMhasimp @elisedylandy @Sacvh

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not me making another milf!reader man,,

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#toji smut #toji x reader #jjk smut #jjk toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader

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sketchguk · 7 months

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part time lover (moodboard)

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 465 (teaser) / 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk are both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison), jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love).

➳ publish date: saturday, october 14th 8pm EST

➳ a/n: thank you for all the love you've shown on the teaser. i really didn't expect so much support >.< i hope you're all as excited as i am though !! once again, this is part of the “industry baby” collab! please look forward to all of the other fics in the masterpost 💛

smut warnings below the cut!

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

“You can touch me if you want,” he offers.

You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were.

“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.

“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.”

Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control.

Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips.

“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.”

The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.

“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.”

Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him.

So you do.

Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.”

Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?”

check it out here!

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction

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sgtyaraya · 2 months

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Call of Duty OC

Name: Trudy Saidler

Nikename: Jay

Date of birth: June 01, 1992

Age: 24 (at the time of the events in 2016)

Place of birth: Liberec, Czech Republic🇨🇿

Citizenship: Czech🇨🇿

Nationality: English 🇬🇧

Rank: Sergeant

Specialty: Infantryman

Unit: TF - 141

Family/Relationships

Mother: Adele Saidler (Hofmann) 🇬🇧

Father: Philip Saidler 🇬🇧

Brother: Evan Saidler🇬🇧 ✝️

Love Interest: Gary "Roach" Sanderson🇬🇧💕

Reference/appearance

Trudy on the day she arrived at Credenhill

Parameters

Hair: brown with light strands

Eyes: grey

Pigmentation on the body: freckles

Tattoo: on the left arm

Scars: scratches on the right and left arm, a bullet wound in the left shoulder, suture marks on the right side at the rib level, bullet wounds in the abdomen, cartilage injury of the right ear

Height: 170 cm

Weight: 60 kg

Body type: normal

Equipment

Armored vest: warrior "plates" assault systems

M4A1 assault rifle with a grenade launcher

M14 EBR sniper rifle with silencer for long-range elimination and, if necessary, to cover the group

Pistols: M9 and USP.45

Cold steel: Alpha S D2 knife Tactical Knife and Custom Steel Machete D2 Machete Etsy Knife

Personality

Trudy is a young girl with sociability and good nature. Her attitude towards people depends on how they treat her: if they show a positive attitude towards her, she is a little stubborn. Even so, Trudy is not so trusting, so she does not immediately open up to the interlocutor. Trudy sometimes experiences moments that can cause irritation. And in such cases, she can flare up, allowing her emotions to come out. However, she tries to control her emotions so as not to show them to other people. But Trudy's weakest side is her worries. Everything that she experiences inside herself, she tries to hide from others.

Fears

🔥Pyrophobia🔥is a phobia consisting in a constant, irrational, obsessive, panic fear of fire, fires; an obsessive fear of burning alive, getting burned, or losing property as a result of a fire. (in one of the missions, she almost burned herself in the room in which she was locked, losing consciousness)

Biography

Trudy's parents live in the Czech Republic for most of their lives, they have successfully established their lives in another country, and we can say they have lived in it for most of their lives, and did not want to return to England. Adele Saidler (Hofmann) has opened her own atelier in Liberec, where they now live. The woman is engaged in custom tailoring, previously she was specialized in sewing military uniforms. Philip Saidler is a former infantryman, retired for health reasons, retired, but he helps his wife in the atelier, delivering sewing materials. He also earns a living on the outskirts of the city, but there is no information about his place of work. Before Trudy, they had a son, Evan Saidler [date of birth unknown, died as a teenager, cause of death unknown]. The couple suffered a hard loss, and were very worried about their daughter, who knows about her late brother.

Trudy's childhood, like that of ordinary children, was no different from them. She also had her own hobbies, which her parents reacted positively to, and supported their daughter in every possible way, most importantly. The girl was actively engaged in dancing from the age of 12, from which she developed flexibility, there were even performances on behalf of the school. She also loved to help her mother in the atelier, more often looked after the counter, and thus engaged in needlework, she could also sew some clothes with jewelry. In addition to dancing, Trudy also had hobbies, which she does not mention.

During her student years, Trudy met a girl who was 1 year younger than her, Linda Kovac (Czech). She was always an inconspicuous gray mouse, but Trudy became friends with her on the first day they met, and spent more and more time together. Thanks to her, Linda began to gain self-confidence and even changed her style in order not to fall into the gray mass and stand out somehow. Saidler never sought to attract attention, preferring to wear comfortable and not too bright clothes, and studied like all ordinary students. She needed Czech to learn, so even at preschool age she learned this language, English is considered the main one.

There have been mistakes in Trudy's life, one of them has undermined people's trust. As a student, a guy was in love with her, and he sought her attention in every possible way. The student's infatuation, yes, did not last long. This guy dated her for a joke, enjoyed her trust. After receiving her education, Trudy left Liberec and went to England. After living there for some time, she went to Credenhill, where the selection for group 141 was held. During the trip, Trudy heard other recruits talking about this group, and who is in it, quite big names sounded from the mouths of the guys, which made her interested. Arriving at their base, Trudy did not expect to see the members of the 141 group live. At the time, Captain McTavish was in charge of the selection, and he took up her training in order to make Saidler an experienced fighter. As a rookie, she was sent for additional training to improve her skills and adapt to work in group 141. During her stay at the base, Trudy met Roach, a young sergeant whom she saw on the day of her arrival. At first, things didn't go very well due to distrust, so we gradually communicated. Jay showed a special interest in Roach as a person and wanted to get to know him better, and thus she awakened trust in him. Roach also showed interest in the girl and communicated with her even from a distance. Trudy was very afraid of attachment to people, and hid her sympathy until the last moment, Roach had the same feelings for her. They gradually showed warm feelings for each other.

Participation

Jay began his service under the command of Captain McTavish, took his first part in the Hunting mission, where the goal was to catch Alejandro Rojas, worked in a group with Roach. In the future, she participated in assaults at certain points, provided cover, engaged in inconspicuous liquidation

The history of the creation of the OC

In 2011, I played with COD Modern warfare 2 for the first time. This game has left vivid moments in my memory, from joyful to sad, my favorite mission is "Rock Climber". At that moment, the first character appeared in my head. Since I couldn't draw at the age of 9, I was building a plot in my head. There is an important point, this is the date when I started playing and when I came up with Trudy. This is June 1, 2011, and this date is also Trudy's date of birth.

In her first version, there was no first or last name, I just called her "Emersan", this call sign is taken from another game that I also actively played. As for her appearance, Trudy looked different, not like she does now. In 2018, I visually sketched her portrait, hoping for my memory. Based on this, I decided to change her appearance, and also attached my old works. As time went on, I always wanted to add something, it seemed to me that Trudy was too simple. Although yes, she really was like that. Then, during the redrawing, I already gave her a name. Her name was Trudy "Emersan" Sombra. She later became Jay, the new surname is Saidler. Trudy's redesigns didn't last long, so I changed it again by drawing new references. You can see that she has hardly changed since 2019, there are small changes on her face – freckles and hair color have become darker. Next comes the tattoo. It was a difficult choice, I came up with the first tattoo myself, then I made another, more complex one. The final version was drawn in 2023, and received a reference

Trudy in 2011 to 2022

#call of duty oc #modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod mw2 2009 #mw2 2009 #mw 2009 #oc #oc art #my oc #original character #cod oc #trudy jay saidler #trudy saidler #oc x canon #roach x oc #roach x jay #biography oc

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moon-is-a-cryptid · 1 year

Text

Matching tattoos with the boys

This has been rotting in my brain for like a week so here

NONE OF THE ART HERE IS MINE TYVM

Dividers used brought to you by: @cafekitsune 🥰(they have really cute dividers check them out 😩)

Izuku midoriya

i believe this man would like the simple Q and K tattoos, something small and sweet that wouldnt give his mother a heart attack. after you said no to matching Allmight tattoos at least. idk the idea makes me fuzzy inside

Katsuki Bakugou

i am 100000% convinced he would get matching grenade gauntlet tattoos with you, i use this idea in one of my series and i love it sm. he would get it like on his arm or something and you would get yours in the sameplace, adding flowers or some shit is just makes me happy

Shoto Todoroki

i like to think he would want a small minmulist tattoo like a lock and key or the ones that form a heart when you hold hands, Although he'd love to piss off endevor with a big tattoo, he wants his mom to not freak about it

Ejiro Kirishima

LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME HE WOULDNT GET A A DUMB TIKTOK TATTOO. this man would be all over the goofy tiktok tattoos, that or a beuaty and the beast tattoo.

Denki Kaminari

he'd like a bolt tattoo, simple and matching, has a call to his quirk and his hair <3 also small bc he doesnt like needles

Hitoshi Shinsou

cat tattoo cat tattoo cat tattoo.

no doubt just cat, you said youd be okay with a cat tattoo and he jumped on it

Dabi (Touya Todoroki)

edgy flame hearts, only agreed because you said he wouldnt have to buy you a ring this way

Hanta Sero

would also get a tiktok tattoo but not as goofy as Kirishima, i like to HC that Sero is an Edgy man so probably something cute but edgy

Tag list 🏷️: @pink-lemonadae-san

Masterlist📝

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fandomhcs · 2 months

Text

dating harley quinn would include:

constant laughter. jokes that make no sense, have no punchline, yet still leave you both delirious from giggling so much. your sides hurt with her all the time.

harley is a roller coaster of the most beautiful variety. she’s beautiful and sweet, playful and brilliant. she brightens up every room she enters and you never let her forget it.

behind all the color, laughter, and smoke bombs hides a lot of insecurity and pain. the two of you don’t really talk about it, about him, but you know enough. instead of focusing on that, you can tell that she just wants to charge forward in life and leave it all behind her. while that may not be the healthiest of ways to cope, you can’t really fault her for it. nor can you complain about being dragged along with her on her wacky adventure.

greasy diner food, roller skates, and speeding along the highway blasting music to drown out the assholes that honk at you. there’s never a dull moment.

even in the safety of your own apartment harley brings a certain sense of vibrancy. curled up on your couch, unable to tell whose limbs are whose, she’ll babble on about anything and everything. you’ve learned all the dirty details of gotham’s underbelly thanks to her rambling. she even let it spill that harvey dent’s got a secret tattoo that the tabloids would just die to find out.

speaking of gotham’s underbelly, harley isn’t one to keep you out of it. she trusts you to handle your own. you’re dating her, aren’t ya? got to be some sort of bad ass to do that. even if you’re a civilian, there’s nowhere else she’d want you to be than with her. though that might mean having to teach you some tips and tricks to keep outta too much trouble.

who would’ve known that picking a lock was so hard? or that hot wiring your car while your girlfriend shoots glitter grenades at gotham pd would be so thrilling.

but for all the thrills and chills, harley also loves a romantic, chill night in. she loves to cuddle you, almost never letting your out of her arms even in public. she’ll kiss you, hug you, smack your ass, and she doesn’t give a damn who sees her do it!

anybody with a complaint about your relationship mysteriously ends up covered in pink paint and chicken feathers. or worse, if they keep pushing her. anyone who trash talks her baby is gonna get a face full of harley fuckin’ quinn, that’s for sure.

expect to be friends with lots of people you really never imagined being friends with. one day poison ivy will show up at your house with a small potted plant and warn you that if anything happens to it you die, the next black frickin’ canary shows up to ask if harley has stolen her tights again. harley collects people, her heart too big and vibrant for her not to be buddies with half of gotham (despite half of gotham wanting to shoot her, of course). some of these people, over time, become your people too. and it isn’t that uncommon for cassandra cain to be found snoring on your couch, for catwoman’s heels to be tossed in the corner of your kitchen while she digs through your fridge, or for the little old lady down the street to knock on your door with a freshly baked quiche.

bruce loves you, and i mean abso-frickin’-lutely adores you. the precious pup curls up around you every night when you head to bed, begs for treats every time you go to the kitchen, and never leaves your side when you leave the house without harley. heck, sometimes you cuddle the sweet boy more than you cuddle your own girlfriend. and she doesn’t even have the heart to be mad about it. (she’ll pout, though. you know she’ll pout.)

at the end of the day, treat harley quinn with kindness and respect and she’s gonna love you.

kiss her in the rain, bring her breakfast in bed, dance around in your underwear to the hairspray musical. understand that life is a blast and you gotta make the best out of it. kiss her pretty face all over, swing her around in your arms, blow raspberries on her skin. make her laugh, make her smile, and she’s yours.

she’s weird and makes no sense sometimes, and some of her antics raise your blood pressure to alarming levels. but there is no one else who’ll rock your world the way she can.

#harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn headcanons #dc #dc reader insert #hcs #dwi

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lambsouvlaki · 9 months

Text

For the Hell of It - Rescue

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: T, brief description of violence.

Word count: 990

Summary: Red Hood comes to her rescue.

Masterlist

She woke slowly, sedately, to the touch of Jason’s fingers trailing down her cheek.

Eyes shut, she leaned into it.

The hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face up. There was no light scrape of rock hard calluses against her chin. The skin was smooth.

Andy’s eyes snapped open.

Black Mask looked down at her.

She recoiled. Or tried to. Her body responded slowly, groggy and jerky, against hard metal restraints. She was bound to a chair.

“Red Hood’s squeeze, hmm? Lucky find,” he said. He wasn’t talking to her. He tilted her chin back the other way to look her over. “I knew he was just a man under that helmet.”

A large man covered in tattoos stood behind him to his right. He looked down at her in disdain.

“Anything you want to tell me, Miss Wright?” Black Mask drawled.

She kept her mouth shut.

The second man hit her on the face. Her head rocked back. Her ears rang.

“He asked you a question.”

She bit her tongue to stop her pained whine.

“He doesn’t know you’re missing,” Black Mask said. “And he won’t, not for days. No masked maniac coming to rescue you. Your chances of getting out of here start and end with not pissing me off.”

She looked at the nasty grins on the face of the two hulking enforcers standing by the door. The uncaring menace in the man who hit her. The mocking glint in Black Mask’s eyes.

“You’re not letting me out alive anyway,” she said, with mounting terror. It churned in her gut.

Black Mask barked a hoarse laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll wring every last secret out of you before I do you the favour of letting you die.”

One of the enforcers turned his head, his brow furrowed.

Something rattled onto the floor, then blinding white exploded everywhere. Her vision blanked out entirely, one final image burned into her eyes: Red Hood standing behind Black Mask, with his gun pointed at his head.

She was thrown sideways in her chair and landed hard on the ground. Guns fired with deafening reports, too loud for her to tell where or from who. Blind and still reeling from the impact, she felt the tattooed man grab her hair. He was ripped violently off of her a second later, and she went skidding sideways across the ground.

Everything got lost in the chaos and noise, before a blow to the head knocked her out.

-----

Andy woke to Jason’s hand in her hair.

Her heartbeat picked up, foreign alarm she couldn’t name or understand in her throat, until she registered the familiar calluses against the small of her neck. Strong hands, scarred and rough, massaged her skin with all the gentleness in the world. She breathed out in relief, and her eyes fluttered open.

Her head lay in Jason’s lap. He was reading a book, his wrist propped up against her shoulder. A gun sat on the bedside table. They were in a safehouse. She didn’t recognise it.

She felt perfectly safe. It took her a moment to process why that mattered, and why her mind even presented it as meaningful.

Her brows pinched and the side of her face stung at the movement. She brought up a hand, and felt butterfly strips across her brow.

Patchy memory filtered in.

Jason turned a page with his thumb, calm and measured. He radiated fury. It wasn’t at odds with the gentleness of his hold on her. His calm methodical rage was so dangerous it could burn Gotham to the ground if he loved it any less.

“What happened?” she asked. Her voice was raspy and her throat sore. She had the vague idea she might have been screaming during the scuffle.

“Black Mask’s second in command launched a coup and murdered his Boss,” Red Hood said, still looking at his book. “He’s trying to pin it on me to keep the support of Sionis’ loyalists. Nobody believes him.”

She remembered, sudden and clear as day, burned into her mind against the pure white of a flashbang grenade: Red Hood pointing a gun at Black Mask. A fan of blood and viscera, in a frozen still, exploding out behind the black skull.

She sat up. She stared at him.

Jason hadn’t killed anyone in years. He wasn’t allowed to, or Batman would run him out of town.

The enforcers, any witnesses, they’d know what happened, they would have to be– he couldn’t have just walked out with her, she was dead weight, had he really–? Had he– For her?

A quiet, hard thought cut through her muddling.

There had been a good reason Jason didn’t kill Black Mask during his initial rampage, and it wasn’t lack of opportunity. He had plans, counter plans, acceptable losses, and goals he wouldn’t bend on. Necessities balanced on delicate scales sometimes called justice but more accurately called reality. The power vacuum hadn’t been worth it.

And he’d done it anyway. He’d killed Black Mask, in the middle of Batman’s city, for her.

He looked back at her, unflinching.

She lay back down, putting her head in his lap.

He ran his hand over her again, carding it through her hair and burying it deep beneath her curls.

Those men, however many it was, died for her sake.

Did their blood stain her too? Did it stream down from his hands onto her head, dripping through her hair to streak across her face?

They would have tortured his secrets out of her, that hard voice said in the back of her mind. She was alive because Jason killed them first.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

He curled over her and looked into her eyes. The hard fury cracked and she saw the desperate storm in his gaze.

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

I love you.

Next>>

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x oc #red hood x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #for the hell of it #my fanfic #dc #angst #dramatic rescue #Red Hood is a killer #don't fucking touch Jason's girl #Jason never says I love you #Jason is saying I love you every moment of every day

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blingblong55 · 11 months

Text

Are you there? -141

part 1 is here

This is based on a request:

Reader goes missing on a mission

F!Reader, angst

R/L/N, R/N

Status: MIA

Callsign- Grim

Age: 26

Next of kin: N/A

It's been 8 weeks since you have been missing. Laswell has considered you MIA, this is after the last part of your plan hadn't worked. You were supposed to give her and only her a signal that you were still alive, this signal was suppose to occur 2 days after you had disappeared, but nothing. Now she has begun to worry, she understood why you had taken the sacrifice, but a part of her was now regretting it. Maybe if she had told Price of the risks, you'd still be around. There were so many what if's surrounding her everyday. Many emails from the team that she hadn't responded to. She knew 141 could find you, but their emotions could get the best of them and she couldn't lose another person, not under her watch.

After Price knew the injury Gaz sustained was stable and he would have a fast recovery, he and the others started to secretly plan on going back to where they last saw you. They decided to not call for backup, just so Laswell wouldn't know about this 'mission' of theirs.

Its currently T-30 before the men head out to the helipad and wait for a good old friend of them, Nikolai, he'd be the only person to know what they'd be doing, no one else. Price was a man of his word, that was for sure, so when the only person he'd let into his life as a daughter and his closest buddy was missing, he made a promise to bring you back home. Alive or dead.

When the team had marked you missing for a full week, Price walked back to his office, asking for no one to bother him. It's said that those that passed by his office heard him cry and throw things around the room. But not one person dared to check on him, not because they didn't care about him, but because they all understood who you are to him. After he had calmed down his range, he sat down, a cigar in one hand as the other caressed a portrait that had you in it.

It was you as the rookie of the team, your first week with the men. You at the time didn't know, but Price was already watching over you like a father figure. Soap had started to tell others how he had replaced Gaz with his newest best mate. Gaz, of course was upset, but once he and you made so many jokes and cried from laughing so hard, he knew why Soap was calling you his best mate, and secretly you were too Gaz's mate, a his little sister.

Ghost, although usually perceived cold, had gotten to used to Soap's bullshit, that when you came around, he grew fond of you rather quickly. He was the one that kept a picture of you, in a shit version of his mask, on his vest's pocket. No one else but you two had a matching tattoo. Which by the way was his way of knowing you two, secretly, considered the other family, something he hadn't fully enjoyed before 141.

----

The men were all now in the helicopter, making their way to hopefully you. The way there for them was rather longer than usual, maybe it was because their minds were running everywhere, or maybe they felt so anxious and scared for what they could face, which would be new to them, since in the past they had been so ready for it all.

Once they touched down, they quickly ran to the entrance of the building. After making sure no one was near or at least innocent civilians, they threw smoke grenades into the building and rushed inside.

Guns in hand as they cleared the first floor. Gaz and Soap heading to the floors below while Price and Ghost made it to the top floors. Every door they kicked, they called out for you, but after much search, they didn't find you. In the midst of finding you, they, for a second loose Gaz, only to find him sitting where he last saw you. Soap slowly approached him, Gaz looked up, he had been crying.

"I lost her, it's because of me that she isn't around." His voice low, full of regret.

"We are a team, we lost her, it's not just on you son, this happened on my watch and we will find her." Price put a hand on his shoulder, hopefully giving him some comfort. For hours and hours, they walked along the nearby village, trying to ask if they had maybe seen you. Until by some miracle, a little boy pointed to a building on the outskirts of the village.

The men, cautiously walked to it, making sure there were no active threats to them or any civilians. With much luck, they once more threw a flashing and smoke grenade, running in as soon as possible. Their guns aimed at a small group of men.

"Where is she?" Price asked the men, one oof them pointed to a room. The man had a sinister smile, grinning as Gaz and Ghost went into the room.

"She's in here!"

Price and Soap made them men get on their knees, tying them up. Nikolai, who was still waiting for them, much nearer now, called to them over radio.

"Bravo 0-6, how copy"

"This is bravo 0-6, whats the matter"

"Did you find target"

"yes, Gaz and target will go to you."

"Roger that"

Once Gaz had a steady grip of you, you two made way to the helicopter. Nikolai took you both back to base. While you were making way home, the three men stayed behind to give the men who captured you a taste of their own medicine.

For nearly 2 hours they tortured them, making them beg for mercy. And when Nikolai had informed them he had returned for them, they shot the men, killing them all and going into the helicopter. The ride back was quiet because although they were victorious, you hadn't seemed so great. According to Ghost and Gaz, it was as if you were already dead.

You had been tortured for days on end, your skin once soft, was now full of dry blood, cuts and bruises. You couldn't speak, not even a simple word came out of your mouth. The jokes that Soap would make, only had you smiling, but even that hurt to do. The machines and nurses at ever minute, panicked Price. Why were they here in your room so much?

Yes, you were injured but this many times that they had to come in was alarming. The men all took turns to take care of you. Except Gaz, no one could make him leave your room. He needed a shower? He'd shower in the one that your hospital room had. Hungry? Food would be ordered. Bored? he made sure to talk to Soap over the phone when it wasn't Soap's day to come over.

It took 2 surgeries, countless amount of medicine and many more to get you to finally recover. You were now back in your room, watching some shit show on your phone when the team knocked on your door.

Price opened the door, but didn't peak in. They were all coming back into your room. Wanting more cuddles and to watch shit shows with you as they all fought for a place in your bed, or on your couch.

"Hey kiddo, are you there?"

A/N: I hope this is the ending you guys expected:)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Tags: @sesshomaruwaifu

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justadeadreaper · 2 months

Text

// OPERATOR-BIO: JACK-POT //

Man’s best friend, a creature that will be most loyal to its master, a dog, the word befitting of Makarov’s bodyguard. The only member of Konni or the Inner Circle that could be described as more loyal than Andrei to Makarov and his cause, a man who would do anything to see it come to life. No matter what was thrown at him, he always came back; no bullet or grenade could keep him down or dead for long as he would just get up again and fight once more; it is no surprise that he earned Makarov’s favour. A giant that uses his strength for the wrong cause. A man who sees what he does as a mission from God as he aims to build a new world, one that Makarov controls. A man who uses his talent to create technology to wipe out cities to forge a path to his only. A man who became the face of Konni, so at least if he was taken in, Makarov could still concoct what needed to be done. A man who smiles as he beats in the skull of his enemies. Makarov’s jackpot.

Divider used, by: @mmadeinheavenn (Please support him as he made the amazing divider I will be using)

CALLSIGN: Jack-Pot

ALIASES: Behemoth (by Taskforce 141), Makarov’s (sometimes attack or guard) Mutt (by Makarov, Taskforce 141, and others), Nephelim (by Makarov’s associates), Big Bastard (by Soap)

CITIZENSHIP: Russian

LANGUAGE(S): English, French, Biblical Hebrew, Latin, Russian

FRACTION AFFILIATION: Konni, The Inner Circle, The Ultranationalist Party, Zakhaev's Arms

STATUS: Active

AGE: 29

NAME: [REDACTED] “Remus” Belladonna Matthew [REDACTED]

PLACE OF BIRTH: [REDACTED]

DATE OF BIRTH: 26.06.1995

SEX: [REDACTED] Male; [REDACTED]

BLOOD TYPE: O-

HEIGHT: 7’11”

WEIGHT: 503 to 533 Pounds

BUILD: Stocky, well built

SCARS, TATTOOS, AND MARKINGS: Healed skin grafting covering most of the left side of his body -predominantly on the front of his body even if it goes onto his back- from his face to his torso to his arms to his legs with a few patches dotted around the right side of his body, missing most of his left ear, teeth marks across his right hand, scars across his back that seems to be from something like a belt, a long surgical scar above his heart, surgical scars across his body (more specifically his knees, hips, ankles, and shoulders), scars from knife and bullet wounds across his body, scars across his right arm, a scar across his lower back around his tail bone that looks like something was carved off of his skin, a scar around all of his neck that has a crown of thorns above and below it, a massive snake tattoo that loops around his right leg to his back and chest with the head resting on his chest, a tattoo of a dog on the back calf of his left leg, a tattoo of a kingfisher styled queen chess piece on his right arm, a tattoo of a spider's web over his heart that is made of webbing and flowers (specifically forget-me-nots, bleeding hearts, larkspur, and lavender) with a redback spider resting on it, tattoos of thieves' stars on his shoulder blades, a tattoo of a cathedral on his lower left back to the side of his torso, and a tattoo of the words 'Владимир Анатольевич Родион Макаров' on his V-line

HAIR: Just past his shoulders, extremely curly, ginger but with streaks of grey

EYES: Brown

COMPLEXION: Medium Beige to Medium Tan

RACE: [REDACTED]

NATIONALITY: [REDACTED]

OCCUPATION: Makarov’s bodyguard

[REDACTED] “Remus” Belladonna Matthew [REDACTED] was born to mother, [REDACTED] and father, [REDACTED] of the acclaimed [REDACTED] family of [REDACTED].

An unwanted child straight from the womb. [REDACTED] was given to his [REDACTED] at the young age of five with his [REDACTED], just like his [REDACTED] before him, after suffering years of abuse. The reason given was due to the fact of him being a [REDACTED] instead of the “normal” son they wanted. An extreme bond formed between the only three people who he knew to love him as his two [REDACTED] lived under the tyrannically religious rule of their [REDACTED] even if she loved them like her own children even. An unhealthy bond formed with religion from that point acting as more of a reason to live than a lifestyle as it was one of the true comforts they could afford as he grew to develop an unhealthy view of relationships and how to act in them as none of them stopped him.

[REDACTED]. Giving him nearly all the scars that riddle his body and leading him to run away at the age of sixteen.

[REDACTED].

That was until he met the acclaimed Vladimir Makarov. A deal was made between the two, in exchange for protection, he would work for the terrorist doing any act that the leader asked of him. [REDACTED].

[REDACTED].

Despite the eccentric, terrifying persona he plays when out in front of the public as he performs another terrorist act for Makarov whether it be blowing up another building or crushing a man's skull, when he is with his men he is known to still be terrifying but also a caring and somewhat goofy leader as neither Andrei or Makarov want to deal with every little complaint that they had.

Every team bonding activity is planned by him as Makarov sees it as a waste of time but he knows that forming strong bonds is extremely useful in the world he has found himself in where it is not uncommon to find themselves being stabbed in the back. He listens and resolves their problems as he earns their trust to seem like a genuine, caring leader, but to him, it is not as genuine as everyone thinks it to be. Yes, he cares about his men but he learnt from his family and from living this life for so long to never be attached and to always gain people’s love for when you need to use it. An optimist on the outside but a true pessimist deep down, but he has learnt to bury those feelings long ago. The only people he has ever shown his genuine true side to, the caring, soft, but funny side is what is left of his family and his best friend Infrared who knows to look past the terrifying act he puts on.

The only other notable thing that most Konni soldiers have learnt about their unofficial leader is his morals, hatred of Milena, and undying loyalty to Makarov. They have watched how he rapidly goes to defend Makarov and kill any man who has been disloyal before running off to check on their Komandir; it is why they all believe that Makarov trusts him the most out of all as he knows that Jack-Pot will be loyal to his death like Makarov is holding something against him even after all the years that Jack-Pot has so effectively served him. They have watched his side eyes and scoffs whenever Milena talks or tries to command someone and how he so easily argues with her to the point of having a game with Infrared where they throw stuff (mainly slippers or flipflops) at Milena whenever she walks by, but in the end he has to let her do what she wants as she is his Komandir’s wife -even if she is the only one who can not see that Makarov only married her for her money and not because he loved her- and he hates to disappoint Makarov as it physical pains him.

What he has left of morals has been crafted by his faith and upbringing. They all know that he will refuse to do certain things as it is against his teachings and he has rules for his soldiers based on his own beliefs whether it be to not desecrate a corpse but instead give them a proper burial or to turn the other cheek unless it is so disagreeable that violence is needed. Most do not mind as he does not force them to participate in his religion with him but they have grown to understand that he will not break his morals unless Makarov calls for it; they all know he feels enough Catholic guilt for other things and do not want to make it worse.

-One item of clothing you will never see him without is his rosary; it is normally tucked beneath his shirt so that it will be pulled on whenever he is in a fight but when casually around base he tends to have it out on display. The rosary has been in his family for countless generations, which can be seen by how the gold and ivory have gone dull but to him, it is one of the most important items in his life that once when a recruit had made the foolish decision to steal it he had beaten their brain in with his fists before putting the rosary back around his neck. It was a warning to others who were forced to witness the twitching body of their fallen comrade as he lived through his final moments while Jack-Pot walked off to pray.

-Unlike what his size would make you believe, he is incredibly smart. He is known to even give Makarov advice when his Kommandir is concocting their next plan, but his intelligence is most clear when he relaxes in his workshop surrounded by his inventions. A savant when it comes to anything mechanical. Makarov paid for his robotics, engineering, and mechanics degrees when he saw the potential that Jack-Pot exhibited when he was able to fix up a getaway car in a matter of no time. Makarov still pays for any degree Jack-Pot requests to do that relates to machinery as it only means they will have access to more complex machinery; it also means that it keeps the giant busy even if it seems like he gets through them in no time. Nearly everything mechanical on the base is made by Jack-Pot, from the security cameras (which he watches and treats like they are a live-action soap opera) to the air conditioning and heating systems that make the base just a little less unbearable. His skills are that trusted that he was even allowed to make the robotic prosthetic for Makarov and control the device that lets the arms do certain actions.

-He has a love of orchestral music, that any song he likes he will try to find an orchestral version of it, but if he can not find an orchestral version, he will normally settle for an instrumental version. He can not explain why he does not like the vocals of a song; he just shrugs and says that he has been like it since he was a child; the only exceptions to this rule were his older brother and grandmother, whose singing he adored but they normally sung hymns and nothing more. Despite his lack of love for hearing people sing, he is a talented singer even if he does not sing often; the only few times people have heard him sing is when he thinks he is alone or when he is dragged into singing by a drunk Makarov when Konni are celebrating another victory. His musical abilities are not just restricted to singing but also are extended to the piano as he is a very talented player who can play any song he wishes too after enough practice. Although, he loves Bruno Mars. It seems to be one of the only musicians he can listen to sing and there is a joke that if you catch Jack-Pot in the middle of the night raiding the Konni fridges that you will be hearing him sing one of Bruno Mars’ songs or another guilty pleasure song on his playlist.

-Despite his size, he is impressively fast and flexible. It is common to see him do stretches before all of his workouts as he tries his best to keep his flexibility from when he was much younger and smaller. When he was a child to a teenager he used to do ballet and still knows how to do some of the routines from when he was younger as it was always something he enjoyed as it first got him into fitness. He also trains his speed as he does not want to be slowed down by his size as he has learnt from prior instances and Makarov that a few seconds can be a matter of life or death.

-Although he hates to admit it, he is quite deaf and blind with his left eye and left ear suffering the most. He wears an “earpiece” in his left ear which is actually a cochlear implant that Makarov had paid for him to have which allows for him to make use of what is left of his left ear. When he takes the outer piece off he becomes deaf to the world in his left ear with his right ear being only a bit better that most at Konni know to either use sign language or shout loud enough for him to hear. Meanwhile, his left eye is his biggest blind spot due to not bein able to see through most of it and the bits he can see being blurry; when reading or building another invention he wears glasses so the blurriness does not stop him from doing what he loves.

-If you were to look up the definition of a hopeless romantic you would see his face as the first thing that pops up. Due to his religious upbringing and the only books he had as a child being passed down fairytales where the prince and princess get their happy ending it gave him a distorted view of love where he wants the happy little family of a partner and children where he gets to adore his partner endlessly and they adore him just as much. This has also led him to be quite... obsessive when he falls in love to the point of doing anything for the person he adores as they become his drug as he always chases the happy pipe dream he was sold.

-No one has ever heard his real accent. It has been noted by soldiers higher in Makarov’s favour and rankings that he has one “real” accent when talking to Makarov but two other accents when speaking to his main “assosiate”. When speaking to Konni soldiers or any other member of the public he puts on a Russian accent but the people who have heard his other accents have described them to either be British or American. The few brave souls that have brought it up to Makarov due to their concerns have either mysteriously disappeared, been sent on suicide missions, or were left terrified that they never wanted to speak about it again.

-Apart from the professional trainers Makarov brings in, Jack-Pot also helps to train the dobermans. While the professionals train them to attack the enemies with no remourse, Jack-Pot trains them to be loving dogs towards him, Makarov, and other Konni soldiers that are not deemed as traitors. The dobermans are like his babies as he has given each one a name for when they are with him apart from ‘Attack Dog Number 7’ and has beds for them in his office and in the blank space that he calls a bedroom.

-His love of animals is not only reserved for the dobermans that Konni have on base and conventional pets but it expands to unconventional pets as well, particularly snakes. Connected to his workshop is a room reserved just for his pet snakes where he has made extremely large vivariums with his own hands for them to live in. He has dozens of different types of snakes from none venomous to extremely venomous that Makarov has let him collect over the years. He uses the venom of his snakes on people that they are torturing for information; diluting the mixture as much as he can so that it hurts but does not kill the person. He also has the horrendous habit to put the less venomous snakes into Milena’s room so they can have some exploration time even if he knows Milena is terrified of snakes as he despises the woman. But, on a more “wholesome” note, he likes to wear the none venomous and more friendly snakes around his neck like a scarf when walking around base on a sunday doing chores as the only one who does not have to work; especially his absolute favourite Big Bertie a Burmese python that Makarov gifted him for his birthday one year to keep the giant company.

-Due to his size and needing to eat tons upon tons of calories he has learnt to be an amazing cook if you have a spice tolerance like his. As he needs a lot of protein and carbs to keep up his physique he has learnt how to butcher all kinds of meats and cook them in all different kinds of ways so he is able to get everything he needs without getting bored of his meals. He is best at grilling the meats on a grill or frying them but tends to stick to the later as it is easier to make bigger batches that way when he wants to share with other Konni soldiers who are fed up of the base’s food or do not want to be poisoned by Milena’s slop. He even knows vegan meals with high amounts of protein and other nutrients so he can have it on a friday but these meals tend to be more relaxed and cheat meals as he loves to fry the mushrooms he uses as a replacement for chickens.

-Anyone who wants to get on his good side or bond with him knows that the best thing to do is not give him some form of alcohol like every other soldier on that base but to instead sit down with him to watch whatever shitty soap drama he has found. He absolutely adores watching them no matter which country it comes from or how shitty it is as long as it is dramatic and has the craziest of twists in the love category. His most notable favourites are some telenovelas he saw when he had been dragged along to Mexico to talk to a cartel leader to ask to make an alliance with her or some old ones he found on VHS in Makarov’s mother’s face after he stayed to help her clean up after fixing her severely outdated freezer and improving it.

-Like anyone of his size he is constantly warm which has caused him to much prefer cold environments to hot ones. He has no issue walking around base in a compression shirt and sweatpants or even going into the snow with just those clothes on to go fetch something that blew away while others at Konni have to go outside in at least three layers to walk through the Antarctic weathers of the land of the barren, snowy part of Russia where the base presides. If you are ever cold he would give you his jacket as he is always “too warm” in his own opinion and he does not mind it when others stay closer to him to keep warm from the heat he radiates. However, even if he tans impecicably and can stand the heat he still hates it. Yes, he can last in the heat without complaining outwardly but it makes him feel uncomfortable and makes his headaches worse as he is already naturally warm but if you bet him that he could not stay out in the Sun then he is staying out there tanning to just prove you wrong even if he needs to take enough paracetamol to euthanise a horse to deal with his headache.

‘С нами Бог.’

‘I know a few cannibals we could send them too. My main associate hasn’t tried gangster flesh yet, I think. Why are you all looking at me like that?’

'Time walks in hands with the Devil as they eat all of God's children, there is no changing fate unless you want to disregard God's plans, we’ll all die in the end whether we agree to it or not. It's why we make the most with the time we have; we make the biggest impact. We let our legacy dictate how this Earth will turn out even if it means we will have thousands of corpses laying that path.'

'A dog that has only known beatings for its whole life will only know to bite. Any man that comes near will be bitten. It knows it can only fight to survive. Its maw is its weapon; it's what it knows it needs to survive. But, to muzzle it will cause it to whimper in fear.'

'Showing a beaten dog some kindness will change its life. A loving hand compared to an abusive hand that feeds seems like Heaven. It will become loyal to that hand even if it becomes abusive as that was the only thing they knew to be kind.'

'Any man that is kind enough can create a deadly weapon. His dog will be loyal to the core. It will attack anything that tries to hurt the man. Using the maw for fighting to now protect. It will give its life for its new master even if it means they will never run free again.'

‘Breathe... breathe... just breathe and calm your arse down. We’re out of it now, we aren’t going back to it. Nothing will drag us back.’

‘Did the dingo set you up for this? Sorry love but I’m not a big fan of azaleas, more of a lavender man myself.’

'You missed? Again?! Next time I'll crush your skull to use the fragments for bullets!’

‘Nice arm you have here. Pretty tattoos as well. I’m sure you don’t mind me taking this back for my Komandir.’

‘If I hear that those Brits and Scots have blown up another one of my gardens I will personally go to their base and blow up everything!’

'You think a little bullet will hurt me? Hehe, Komandir's put me through worse.' 'I’m going to go pray. I need you all to stay here for two minutes while I ask God to give me patience since if he gives me any more strength, I’m going to kill all of you.'

'Why should I pay a few thousand rubles for this crap?! I can go home and by next week I'll have it done and I'll have only paid a few hundred max. ...robbing bastards.' 'Shhhh, I need you to quieten down. Komandir is cold. He needs the world to burn to stay warm and fat burns so easily.'

'Make me a promise, okay? If you have to lay me to rest before they put us both in our final places, remember, if you bother to give me a headstone, plant an apple tree behind it and lavender around it. I want to know that when you miss me that you'll visit and I can still provide you with help to sleep and I'll still be able to feed you. I'll always l...care for you even when I'm in Hell.'

Normal; Due to being one of the highest-ranking soldiers at Konni he wears an identical uniform to Andrei except for the fact that everything in the uniform from the groin protector to the compression shirt to the vest has been tailored to accommodate his gigantic size. The biggest difference between the two uniforms can be seen with the mask that Jack-Pot wears and the small additions that have been added. He wears a choker around his neck that holds his microphone with additional patches across his uniform apart from the Konni patch to display his rank. Meanwhile, his mask is based on the skull of a wolf as it lays on his face in two pieces, the lower jaw bone that moves with his own jaw and the upper piece, which takes more liberty in its design but looks like the face of a wolf, that is attached separately so that it can stay in place which allows him to still use his teeth when attacking enemies in close combat.

Casual; Based on what he wears when he is on base and not working as he prefers to wear something simple and comfortable which just so happens to be a very basic pair of grey sweatpants and a black compression shirt that he had Konni’s tailors personally make or he would be forced to go around naked.

Medusa; Based on its namesake, with this skin, he wears a white floor-length chiton that goes over the left shoulder and leaves the top right side of his torso exposed to show off the head of the snake tattoo as it curls around his body. Between the curls of hair now lay king cobras with some curling around his neck that will spit venom at anyone he commands as the scales on the snakes match the scales that now lay in place of the skin graft. While around his ankles and wrists are now golden chains that lead to somewhere...

Seraphim; Based on his deep ties to his religion in this skin he is the biblically accurate depiction of an Angel, specifically a Seraphim. He is dressed in a mixture of both white and red robes similar to the chiton he wears in the Medusa skin with golden chains coming from both his wrists and from under the robe. He has six pairs of wings, one main pair with a smaller pair above and below it -the top pair can be used to hide his face- as golden eyes cover the wings and cover parts of his body. His hair is replaced by flames as his tattoos are now made of golden while he cries golden tears.

The Bear; Based on his more feral side in this skin all he wears is a pair of bloodied combat trousers with no shirt at all as to show off his pecs and the tattoos and scars that riddle his chest as it is also covered in blood. Replacing his wolf mask is instead a bear skin with the paws attached to his arms with the rest of the pelt trailing down his back and the bear’s head on top of his own head which obscures his eyes.

The General; Based on what I imagine him to look like in an AU where he is a General for Zakhaev and much older, his hair is filled with more greys with more wrinkles across his face as he wears a traditional General’s uniform -the hat, jacket, shirt, and trousers- in black paired with black leather gloves and a black cloak with a gold chain and clasps that keep it on his shoulders and a gun holster on his belt.

The King; To be paired with a Makarov skin I have thought of that suits him, this skin is based on the king piece in chess. With this skin, he is decorated in ornate golden armour that is decorated with jewels and engravings and a crown upon his head as the armour is fashioned to resemble the king chess piece.

Purple Nymph; Based on the Nymphs of Greek mythology he is completely naked but sexless in this skin as his tattoos are now different shades of purple with his hair now being made up of the hyacinths and lavender that also bloom out of his skin and petals spill out from between his lips.

#cod #call of duty #cod original character #cod oc #call of duty oc #call of duty original character #jack-pot cod #jack-pot call of duty #konni group #konni oc #vladimir makarov's bodyguard

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 5 months

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i have an aot inspired request that i had in mind for a while to ask for (i didn’t watch aot so excuse me for used not so accurate facts lol)

fem!reader was born into a poor family of 4 (parents, her and her older brother) in paradise island, her father often abused her till he kicked her out at 4 years old to survive alone, she fell into massive tree like ymir but instead of giving her titan powers or something similar, Source of all living matter had fused with her body-almost like making reader its vessel, a visible mark was on her upper body. visual it like a modern abstract tattoo or struck by lightning (or just like it had shown in anime), but it is red color and it’s permanent till it departs from her (at it will), she soon finds a way to sneaks on a Marley, scouts find her and levi adopts her (didn’t immediately but on papers were his last name). She was of great help during the very much entire main event since you can’t kill or hurt her physically so she was putting on traps and getting information and after it all finished she was growing to be a main soldier and captain like Levi, she died later from a some diseases (could be pneumonia (i don’t know if it have a medicine for it in aot so let’s pretend it doesn’t)), she gets known for her flexibility and speed, good with almost every kind of weapons (from pistol and rifle to snipers and swords and grenades) and since she couldn’t die from any physical harm she was getting herself in different places where she could be killed by titans and enemies so she got known as “fake death” or “troublemaker” for one close to her (levi, scouts and such) because she’s quite playful when comfortable with someone and almost reckless…

To actual request itself, how would Hades, Hermes and Apollo react to her and her story, she’s fighting for humanity and she frights against a god and she wins since she still have powers from Source of all living matter in her with a mark and everything, she wins again a god and don’t kill them since she promised to never kill anybody else again at her death bed, so what will happen then? What will be gods reaction to her story? who wanted to sway her off her feet? or who will just stay in their line and maybe try to befriend reader?

-There were many gods who didn’t know you, who didn’t know what you could do, the power you held in your body, many called it the Source of All, a boundless amount of energy that you obtained when you were still young and alive on earth.

-This power, which you initially thought was a curse, as the mark it put on your body, looking like a bolt of scattered lightning which would glow when you used your strength, which people thought was unnatural, you grew to adore and appreciate. You had saved so many people using this power.

-You used this to fight alongside other warriors, beating back your enemies, earning your nickname, Trickster, as you would play dead, letting them get close, only to strike quickly and brutally.

-It wasn’t until you died, young unfortunately, from pneumonia of all things, that you realized how fragile life really was, and as you took your last breaths, you had vowed to never kill another again.

-When you came to Valhalla you met so many other strong warriors, and while you were against killing, you loved training with strong people, humans and gods you didn’t have to hold back against, showing your true strength.

-Your power- your strength is what made Brunnhilde approach you about fighting in Ragnarok. You were initially against it- you flat out told Brunnhilde that you weren’t going to kill anyone else, and you only agreed to fight if you could leave your opponent alive.

-The gods were quick to underestimate you, seeing that you were so young, thinking you would be an easy win. As your powers flared, the mark on your body flaring to life, glowing brightly, Odin could only gawk, seeing the power you held in your body.

-You charged in, showing your combat skills, showing everyone that just because you were young, you weren’t a pushover.

-Heimdall spilled all your secrets, telling everyone about you- how you had been abused by your father until you were four, when you found the Source of All, then you became the vessel for that power, and you grew into a powerful warrior on your own, being taken in by other warriors, adopted by one of the most powerful ones, Levi (sorry I don’t know AOT).

-Your strength was legendary, as not even the strongest of titans and enemies could hurt you, as your power was keeping you safe from harm, and that was apparent here, as your opponent wasn’t doing much against you.

-Many of the gods were stunned to see you fighting so hard, to protect humanity, despite facing so much pain in your short life- it was humbling to see someone fighting so hard for those who had been so cruel to you, at least some of the people.

-As you stood over your opponent at the end of the match, the clear winner, you sheathed your weapon, a short sword. Many were yelling at you, telling you to finish the job.

-Your eyes were sharp, narrowed in anger as you spoke up at them, “Unless you’re going to get down here and fight me too- then you don’t get to make any demands of me. I refuse to kill another. Life is precious as it is fragile. Don’t call for the death of others unless if you’re going to fight as well.”

-You were quick to shut everyone up and you even helped your opponent up and dragged him backstage, holding his arms over your shoulders, dragging him behind you as you weren’t the tallest of people, and you took him all the way to the infirmary.

-When he asked you, while getting patched up, why you didn’t kill him, you just beamed brightly, looking like the teenager you truly were, “Life’s too precious to just kill someone just because. I’m not going to kill someone when you’re fighting just like I am.”

-You were an oddball, but he wasn’t going to look this gift of not losing his life in the mouth.

-Hades- He was surprised by your words, that you refused to kill, despite the gods wanting to destroy humanity, and while he wasn’t complaining, he was just confused, after you had killed so many enemies while you were alive, why were things so different now. He asked you while you sat beside him, keeping him company and you couldn’t help but send him a playful wink, “You should know better than most gods on how fragile life is. I didn’t realize that myself until I died, getting sick of all things. If I was the one killing others, ending their lives so easily- it made me… I-I just never want to kill again.” You were a kindhearted person, your words resonating with him, as he knew that well, after seeing his brother and his nephew dying. He reached out his hand for you to take and you took his without hesitation, “You’re a kind person Y/N.” you beamed brightly, thanking him for his words, which made him smile softly.

-Hermes- He agreed with your words, he knew how fragile the lives of others were, after watching so many die, both humans and gods, and he had to respect your decision not to kill him- he was alive because of that decision. You had the power to easily take him on in combat- you could probably take on any of the gods with your power. He could see the marks on your body, up close now, and they looked like a scar, like when someone would get hit by lightning, it looked like it would be painful and he reached out, taking one of your hands in his own, surprising you. He looked at your scar, a sad look on his face, “Does it hurt?” you were surprised by his words, but you grinned, “I remember it hurting when I first got it, as my body had to get used to it- but not anymore, it’s just hot!” You were so bright, so full of life, he didn’t want to snuff that life out, he didn’t want to snuff any of it out.

-Apollo- He could only stare at you, seeing you smiling so warmly at him, explaining yourself. You were so… so true- you were unapologetically you, and you looked so beautiful, inside and out. He was grateful you had spared his life, getting to live another day, but to see that you were such a lovely person on top of it was even more humbling. Apollo reached a hand towards you, and you took it, holding it with both of yours and he had to smile, feeling how warm your hands were, “You are an amazing person Y/N. I’m grateful to have met you.” You were surprised by his words, and he couldn’t help but smile as your cheeks turned a bit red, a little embarrassed by his praise, showing that you wore your emotions on your sleeve. You were a very complex person, but he wanted to know more about you as you made him feel so happy.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror hades #ror hermes #ror apollo

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