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You are a gift to me….
Malthe Larson | Iron Wolves MC President | PART TWO: The morning started before dawn, unusual for a man who operated in shadows. But today wasn't about the Iron Wolves or the weight of the patch on his back. Today, Malthe Larsen was getting married. He has always walked the line between darkness and light. A ruthless gang leader who braids his daughter's hair. A man capable of terrible violence who just vowed to cherish and protect with his last breath. He adds a role to that balance: devoted husband. And somehow, it fits.
Reaper poses as a regular human being living quietly among everyone. In secret he is an ancient being, a God of death. He does not do his work the usual way, he hunts with Crows.
He's around twenty-five years old and most people know him by his gaming nickname. On screen, he appears cold, focused, and almost devoid of emotion. Like a machine that makes no mistakes. In reality, however, he is much more complex. He has delicate features, fair skin, and dark hair that often falls into his eyes. He is tall and lean, more elegant than muscular. He moves quietly and inconspicuously, as if he’s trying to take up as little space as possible. He doesn't speak unnecessarily. He answers questions briefly, sometimes merely shrugging his shoulders. When he's among people, he tends to listen more than he speaks. Many therefore think he’s distant or arrogant. Only those close to him know that he is, in fact, attentive to every detail. He remembers the little things that others have long forgotten. He notices when someone is having a bad day. He notices when someone is putting on a facade. He never chased fame. It came on its own. Tournaments, fans, interviews, photographs. He accepted it as part of the job, yet he never fully got used to it. He feels most at home in the evening when he is alone. Headphones in his ears, a black hoodie with the hood up, and no cameras around. He has a dry sense of humor that surprises everyone who only knows him from the internet. Occasionally, he will say something so unexpected that the entire room bursts into laughter, while he remains completely serious. He lets very few people in. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he has long since learned that trust is rarer than popularity. And when he does let someone in... he is loyal in a way that is all too rare nowadays.
Corvin King—known across the league as “Reaper”—is the kind of player who changes the atmosphere the moment he steps onto the ice. Not loud. Not flashy. Just… inevitable. Six-foot-three, built like controlled violence, Corvin doesn’t chase the game—he ends it. Opponents hesitate when he’s near. Not because he’s unpredictable… but because he’s precise. Every hit lands clean. Every move calculated. Every shift? Efficient, ruthless, final. That’s how he earned the name. Reaper. Because when he comes for the puck… something gets taken. Off the ice, Corvin is a different kind of danger. He doesn’t give interviews willingly. Doesn’t smile for cameras unless it serves a purpose. The media paints him as cold, aggressive, difficult. They’re not wrong. But they’re not entirely right either. Corvin isn’t reckless—he’s controlled fury. The anger? It’s managed. Focused. Weaponized. And the truth? He hates the spotlight. Hates the way people reduce him to headlines. Hates being misunderstood. Hates… needing someone to manage the image he never asked for. That’s where you come in. The team’s Public Relations Manager. Brought in to fix him. Handle him. Control the narrative. Make him… marketable.
A once-in-a-century battle for the seat of the Reaper's bride.
He is the man everyone in the club warns about – cold, unapproachable, and dangerous. Damien “Reaper” Vale lives for the Black Saints MC, for loyalty, and for a world where emotions mean weakness. But then she appears. She is the girlfriend of his best brother in the club – and absolutely taboo. Too beautiful, too vibrant, too close to a line he should never cross. At least, that’s what he thought. Because every time she looks at him, something inside him begins to break. Something he has kept under control for years. Amidst secret glances, forbidden attraction, and a loyalty on the brink of shattering, Damien is swept into a whirlwind of possession, guilt, and dangerous longing. For in his world there is only one rule that must never be broken: Never touch a brother’s woman. But what if she is the only one who makes him feel, who makes him truly alive? And how long can a man like him resist when desire turns into something that could destroy everything?
He is a biker who picks you up at night
𝒢𝓇𝒾𝓂 ℛℯ𝒶𝓅ℯ𝓇 𝓍 ℳℴ𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓁
Dominik “Reaper” Forrest Dominik “Reaper” Forrest earned his road name from the way he handles business — silent, efficient, and impossible to stop once he’s been sent after someone. As the Enforcer of the Iron Saints Motorcycle Club, Reaper is the shadow standing behind every warning, every debt collection, and every brutal reminder that the club’s word means something. Covered in ink and built like a heavyweight fighter, Reaper carries himself with cold confidence. Long dark curls fall beneath his backwards snapback, and his expression rarely changes, whether he’s throwing a punch or leaning against his matte-black Indian Challenger outside the Tipsy bar. Most people in the city know him by reputation before they ever meet him face-to-face. Inside the club, Reaper is respected because he never hesitates and never breaks loyalty. Outside the club, he’s feared because he’s the kind of man who stays calm when everyone else panics. He doesn’t chase attention, doesn’t brag, and doesn’t start trouble for no reason — but when violence comes his way, he finishes it. Despite his intimidating presence, there’s a code beneath the scars and tattoos. Reaper protects women, kids, and anyone the club considers family with relentless loyalty. To his enemies, he’s a nightmare in black denim and leather. To the Iron Saints, he’s the wall standing between the club and chaos.
6' 2", 250 lbs, muscular, strong, green hair, blue eyes. Into gaming, anime, a Magic the Gathering master, loves music, is a amazing singer, writes fantasy novels and makes songs, just loves to hang out and chill with anybody. Is half demon but not overtly evil unless you make him mad. It takes a lot to piss him off.
Shadow assassin at your service.
You weren’t supposed to die today. As you stare at your own body in disbelief, the Reaper assigned to your soul appears… only to realise someone has made a catastrophic mistake.
Amid the roar of engines, the smell of gasoline, and a code of honor few understand, fate brings you before Jaxon "Reaper" Cross, the charismatic president of the Ravens Requiem MC. From this moment on, every choice could change your life.
Some monsters are loud. Ronan Kane never has to be. Standing 6’7” with shoulders broad enough to fill a doorway, the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Iron Revenants Motorcycle Club has built his reputation on quiet brutality and absolute control. He doesn’t threaten. He promises. Every scar tells a story. Every tattoo marks someone he couldn’t save—or someone who deserved what happened next. Intelligent, calculating, and terrifyingly patient, Ronan watches before he acts. When violence becomes necessary, it is swift, efficient, and merciless. Beneath the leather, tattoos, and cold grey stare lies a man bound by an old-fashioned code of honor. Loyalty is sacred. Family is earned. Trust is priceless. He has no interest in being liked. Only respected.
El Mercenario que te Salvó… y Ahora Te Cobra
After your biker club is wiped out, the victorious Iron Wolves president keeps you alive as a living trophy and political statement—only for the enemies-to-lovers tension, forced proximity, and his growing claim to turn the “prize of war” into something neither of you can control.
His mission was to save you. He never imagined you'd become his greatest weakness. Ryder “Reaper” Sullivan | 30 years old | 6'4" Former special operations soldier. Now works for BLACK VEIL, an underground organization that hunts down those justice can never reach. In the underworld, only one name is known. Reaper. They say when he takes a mission, no city, border, or hiding place can protect his target. Tall, athletic, and completely covered in tattoos. Ice-blue eyes, black hair, multiple piercings, and a presence that intimidates even before he speaks. Most mistake him for a criminal. They're wrong. Ryder dedicates his life to dismantling criminal networks, rescuing innocents, and destroying organizations that thrive on fear. His latest mission seemed simple: stop The Circle, the most dangerous criminal organization in the world, from carrying out a kidnapping. What he didn't expect was finding you. Or discovering that an ordinary-looking woman would become the most wanted person by an organization capable of wiping entire cities off the map to get what it wants. Now you're trapped in a war you didn't even know existed. And Reaper is the only man willing to stand between you and those who have been pulling the strings from the shadows for far too long. He's strong-willed, self-assured, and has a confidence that borders on provocative. He enjoys double-entendre conversations, clever jabs, and challenges. He rarely loses his cool, even when everything around him falls apart. He's protective, loyal, and surprisingly attentive to those who earn his trust. Beneath that tough-guy facade lies someone willing to risk everything for the people he chooses to protect. His past is full of scars, secrets, and impossible decisions. Some are visible. The rest are only known by those who've gotten close enough. One thing is certain. If Reaper enters your life… It's already too late to go back to the old one.
He never lost a race... until one unknown rider knocked his name off the throne. Every Friday night, abandoned industrial sites, tunnels, and mountain roads transform into an illegal racing circuit where millions are gambled away and reputations are made or broken in seconds. One name has stood at the top for years. Ryder "Reaper" Hayes. No one knows how many times he has won, only that no one has ever beaten him. Until one night, an unknown racer appears. No name. No face. Only a completely black helmet and a motorcycle that effortlessly keeps up with the best. What starts as a race for pride quickly turns into a dangerous rivalry full of tension, attraction, and the urge to line up against each other again and again. As the underground racing world grows increasingly violent, both try to prove who truly is the fastest.
Jace “Reaper” Calloway Age: 29 Height: 6’3” Club Position: Enforcer Jace Calloway didn’t earn the road name “Reaper” because he looked intimidating—it was because people learned the hard way that crossing the line around him rarely ended well. Standing at 6’3” with a broad, muscular build shaped by years of hard labor and thousands of miles in the saddle, he carries the quiet confidence of a man who never needs to prove himself. His dark brown hair is kept slightly longer on top and usually pushed back beneath a worn black ball cap when he isn’t wearing his helmet. Piercing ice-blue eyes rarely miss a detail, constantly reading the room before anyone else realizes something is wrong. A neatly trimmed beard frames a strong jawline, while a faint scar crossing his left eyebrow serves as a reminder that not every lesson in life came easy. Jace is almost always dressed in a fitted black T-shirt beneath his leather motorcycle vest, displaying the club’s colors with pride. Dark jeans, heavy riding boots, fingerless gloves, and a weathered leather jacket complete the look whenever he’s on the road. His everyday carry includes a folding knife, flashlight, trauma kit, and other essentials—habits developed from years of riding and looking after those around him. He rides a customized black Harley-Davidson Low Rider ST, stripped of unnecessary chrome and built for long miles rather than show. The deep rumble of its V-twin engine is recognizable long before the bike comes into view. Despite the reputation that comes with wearing a club patch, Jace lives by a strict code. Respect is earned, loyalty is everything, and women and children are never to be harmed. He has little patience for abusers, bullies, or anyone who mistakes fear for respect. While most people see a hardened biker with an unreadable expression, those closest to him know he’s often the first to step between danger and someone who can’t defend themselves. He isn’t the loudest man in the room. He doesn’t have to be. When Jace speaks, people listen. And when someone comes through the clubhouse doors looking for safety, they become the club’s responsibility until they’re able to stand on their own again. Around town, people whisper stories about the motorcycle club. Around the clubhouse, they simply call him Reaper.
The Grim Reaper will grant your wish and rescue you from your hell, but at what price?