#oc mathias

[banished-away]

Are you the one they say you are, are you holy to the bone Have you got faith enough to throw the first stone

pose: RBB preset: zizi outfit: hanzodojo glasses: rayrei eyes: silentbunny makeup: yves tattoos: Longerpigs dyable lashes: me neck: alee everything else vanilla or upscale

[jingleboy]

i made a reference sheet of all the ocs i currently use the most......pls ask me shit about them theyre all losers 

pls dont point out that i spelled my own oc’s name wrong..............its spelled mathias

[loukiw]

He taste

He likes

@hungrykuroneko

[jingleboy]

tfw ur bf cant just come into ur house thru the door like a normal ass person bc he thinks hes the rootinest tootinest cowboy in the whole city

[envihellbender]

Age gap creep Dec finding addicted teen Mads in a pool of piss and vomit in their flat

OCs: Teen!Mathias (18), older Declan (32)

Content: abusive creep age gap

—

“Poor baby,” Declan crooned, he almost smirked at the sight of the barely conscious Mathias laying on the living room floor. His jeans were soaked in piss and he had turned his head from a pool of watery vomit that soaked into his light blonde hair. He waddled over to Mathais and gently nudged him with his foot, he groaned and looked up at Declan with half lidded eyes. He mumbled unintelligibly, and Declan smirked before leaving to run a bath. When he returned Mathias had curled up in a ball and turned away from Declan, still unable to get up. “Did my little druggie overdo it a bit, huh?”

“Go- go away,” Mathias mumbled. Declan waddled over to him, and roughly grabbed Mathias’s wrist, pulling him to his shaking feet. “Get off me!” Mathias snapped as he attempted to escape Declan’s grasp. He held on too tightly, and any attempt to move resulted in Mathias stumbling into Declan.

“Come on, bath time,” Declan said softly, Mathias could tell if he was mocking him or not.

“I can- I can wash myself.”

“My little druggie managed to piss himself and throw up all over the carpet, I don’t think you can do anything by yourself,” Declan said repressing an amused grin. He pulled Mathias by the wrist causing him to reluctantly follow. When they reached the bathroom Declan pulled Mathias’ plain white t-shirt over his head, surprised at how pliant Mathias was. When Declan went to unbutton Mathias’ jeans he slapped his hands away and did it himself, stumbling and relying on Declan to keep him steady. Eventually, Mathias slowly got into the burning hot bath, letting his body melt into it as he closed his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He scowled as Declan knelt by the side.

“You think I trust you not to drown now? Besides, want to make sure you do a good job. And that you don’t end up scrubbing so hard you bleed.”

“Fucking creep,” Mathias spat but allowed to Declan to thoroughly wash him, wincing when he pulled at him, groped him, touching him everywhere. When his hands went up his legs and went to grab his crotch however, Mathias grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm until Declan cried. “Don’t even try it.”

“Ungrateful brat,” Declan snapped. He grabbed Mathias’ hair and pushed his head underwater, letting him struggle for a few seconds before letting him back up. “Now, where were we?” He grinned as he saw Mathias rub at his eyes and recoil as much as the bath would allow.

[envihellbender]

Teen Mads meeting Copybot for the first time in older Dec verse 👀

OCs: Mathias Iversen, Declan Gerritz

Content: Kidnapping, possessive/controlling, improbable science

—

Mathias’ shoulder was starting to hurt less, sometimes he barely noticed it and that scared him more than the pain itself. He didn’t want to forget about the tracking device, he wanted to remember precisely where it was so he knew what needed ripping from his body. He was allowed out of the poky little flat now, which was a blessing he supposed. That morning he went for his first run outside, it was strange being in the city. Back home he could see for miles, from his bedroom window. There were trees, a lake, miles of grass and the mountains in the distance. No other house for miles. Here everything was different shades of grey. Grey skies, grey buildings, grey pavement, grey people. The smell of the cars hurt his throat and he could taste it on his tongue, that plus the cigarette smoke felt like it clung to his skin. When he ran however, it was different - it was almost like he was back home. The cold air hit his face, and skin. He ran like in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms even though it was an icy December, it wasn’t that much warmer than Denmark but he needed to feel the cold against his skin. It wasn’t as fresh, but for a moment it was like he was free. His feet pounding against the stone pavement, and his chest heaving until he had to stop. When he stopped outside the flat building he was now infuriatingly drawn to, he noticed how much better his shoulder felt. It was tender, but tolerable. He almost felt compelled to stab himself just so he wouldn’t have the throbbing reminder.

He typed in the familiar code into the keypad, unfortunately he now remembered it without thinking. He walked past the lift, he always went up to the flat by the stairs, he wanted to prolong the time he had to himself. He arrived quicker than he had wanted and hated that he felt his brain relax and decompress upon opening the door. It wasn’t real. He noticed Declan didn’t say anything as he entered which was strange. Maybe the freak’s too engrossed in one of his stupid games, he told himself.

When he entered the living room and fell onto the sofa, ignoring Declan just as he was ignoring him he noticed something was… Different. He saw Declan in his computer chair, the kind that looked like a car seat Mathias thought. Declan’s spine was straight, ramrod straight. He normally slouched over his computer, his posture was terrible meaning he often complained of pain in his shoulders and back. Today however, he had a sitting position so perfect that he was like a diagram from a physiotherapy textbook. The other strange thing was that Declan wasn’t wearing headphones, and on the gigantic screen there was nothing interesting - just repeated numbers and symbols. Mathias stared for a moment but decided that he wasn’t going to be concerned about his captor. He got himself a glass of water from the kitchen. It was spotless now, when he was first took here it was so unorganised and filthy it made his skin crawl. Sure, it wasn’t stained with crumbs everywhere, but it wasn’t as clean as Mathias liked it. He made the mistake of saying that if his Papa had seen it he’d have beaten Mathias until the kitchen was stained with blood instead. It was a joke, but Declan made those irritating sad green eyes and tears fell down his face.

When he returned to the living room he noticed something strange again, Declan’s hair was usually just pushed behind his ears when he was concentrating - it was a messy mass of black which he usually ended up pushing back every five minutes or so. This time however it almost looked neat, it was pulled backwards into hair tie, and Declan’s thick black eyebrows were furrowed. There was a uncharacteristic confidence inside of him, what got Mathias through every day was knowing that he could beat Declan whenever he wanted. He was faster, stronger, and taller. In the past few months he’d had a growth spurt and now he towered over him. When he saw him now however… he felt his intelligence and power, without any of that stammering shyness. It was almost inhuman. Declan’s eyes flitted towards Mathias, instead of jumping like he normally would have he smirked and turned towards him.

“Can I help you?” Declan asked, almost irritated. Mathias took a step back, baffled. Declan usually stumbled over his words, his voice small and quiet like a mouse. Now he was confident, smooth… it was bizarre. And unsettling.

“Erm… no,” Mathias scowled. “Just… you’re being weird.” Instead of replying, Declan just stared at Mathias, as if he found everything he said hilarious. After a few moments he spoke, suppressing a cruel laugh as he spoke.

“I wish Declan didn’t eat so much shitty food,” he began, his eyes focusing on Mathias’ small biceps. “Just filled with sugar and carbs. Those pretty toned arms of yours could snap these fucking bones like a twig.”

“Fanden,” Mathias sighed, wrapping his arms around his slim torso. “You’re such a … Freak. Stop it.”

“You’re so cute when your scared.” Declan said biting his bottom lip. “Declan hasn’t noticed it yet but your pretty grey eyes widen and your soft little lips part… he really doesn’t take advantage of you enough.”

“Okay okay, you scared me. Very funny. Now. Stop. Please. Declan.” Mathias rarely used his captors name, but he was hoping it’d endear him to Declan and he’d stop this.

“See that’s where my agreement with my dear host stops,” Declan said shaking his head. “You’re so stupid. Such a brainless piece of shit. I’m not fucking Declan. You can call me Copybot. I guess. If you need to speak to me. Now can I get back to work?”

“I- so… who- who- are you like… one of those…” Mathias stopped. He hated to admit but his first thought was possession. All he could think of was what he’d seen in Emperor’s New Groove and Atlantis: The Lost Empire. That was ridiculous though, that couldn’t be real. “Okay fine. I’m stupid. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Look at you. All confused and worked up like a little lamb. Maybe Declan will explain. But unless you want me to look through his things and fix that little microchip so that it shocks you every time you talk to me… go away. Watch a stupid fucking movie or go for a run or something.” Copybot turned back to his computer with a smirk filling his burned face.

Mathias bolted to the bedroom, he slammed the door behind him and found his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. It wasn’t scary exactly, Declan could never really be frightening and Mathias could beat him if necessary. It was just… Unnerving. Strange. Like an intruder was in the flat. And a part of him was a little concerned for Declan, just a little.

[envihellbender]

A slightly obsessive and deranged adult Dec rescuing teen Mads from his father’s? :3c

OCs: Mathias “Mads” Iversen, Declan Gerritz

AU: teen!Mads (14), canon age Declan (24)

Content: first meeting, parental abuse, sfw (I mean, maybe not cause violence but I think it’s fine.)

(Image from Kåre Hedebrant Let the Right One In, FC for young Mads)

—

Declan wasn’t entirely sure why he installed the spyware on Lukas Iversen’s computer, he supposed it was primarily revenge. He was perfectly capable of doing his work from his flat back home in England, but apparently Lukas enjoyed dragging Declan all the way over to the middle of nowhere in Denmark. It was from the comfort of his hotel room that he first noticed the teenage boy. He saw him sat on the living room floor whilst Lukas was at work, his arms wrapped around his legs and was far too close to crinkling television set. It was strange, Declan thought, Lukas owned the biggest tech company in Europe and yet his home was small and furnished as if it was almost thirty years ago. Lukas also hadn’t mentioned a son, not that there was any reason for him to, he supposed. It did set off something inside him however, he wasn’t sure what but his facial burns itched and a familiar chemical smell filled his nostrils.

Later that night, Declan laid back on his double bed, with the laptop he built on his knee. He had just finished a match on League of Legends when he minimised the screen and precisely why he did was blown from his mind when the video surveillance he set up blared from the corner of his screen right into his mind. He maximised it to be certain he was correct, he’d set up the spyware expecting to feel superior as he found out Lukas’s dirty little secrets. Instead he felt sick to his stomach. Right there, in Lukas’s living room he was stood over his son. The small teenage boy was curled up, his head beneath his arms and blood soaking through his white t-shirt. Above him, the gigantic Lukas stood, breathing heavily, beads of sweat covering his forehead and soaking his light blue button up short. Declan felt sick to his stomach as he watched Lukas continue to beat his son. After a while he stopped, he left the room and returned a moment later having splashed water over his face, it dripped down just like the sweat had - drenching his shirt as he painted heavily. He grabbed his son by his hair, and dragged him out of the room. Declan couldn’t watch any more. He slammed his laptop lid shut and sat in silence, his hands shaking as he grew dizzy.

What happened next was obvious, really. It was the only thing Declan could do. It would be difficult, he hated going outside and feeling stares burning into his skin but he didn’t have much choice. He spent that night searching through Glacier Tech’s records as well as Lukas Iversen’s personal ones, by the morning he had a plan of action. He knew Iversen’s schedule and knew precisely when to strike. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he wouldn’t get away with just storming in and kidnapping a minor. For one thing, he didn’t want the kid to be scared of him to. No, first things first was he had to get inside the house and scope out the place. Ideally, he’d show the boy he wasn’t a threat. If he wasn’t able to do that… well, he’d just have to take the kid by force. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

Declan was sleep deprived and chugging down an energy drink - at least he assumed it was, the text was in Danish but Google translate helped - when he reached the house. He wore his navy hoodie and the hood was pulled forward, it and his hair covering his scar. He had waited for Lukas’s care to leave, and paused for another five minutes before approaching. He knocked on the door, and waited patiently. He hadn’t expected Mathias to open the door, but it was worth a try. He took out his lock-pick and got to work, he let out a snort of laughter when he managed to click the lock open. Apparently Lukas wasn’t as smart or prepared as he thought he was. He carefully stepped in, he knew the layout very well. The teenage boy had a bedroom downstairs at the back of the house, but given how small it was Declan expected him to be in the living room just at the end of the hall. He was surprised to discover that it was empty, and before he could check anywhere else he felt something sharp pressing into his back.

“Få fanden ud af mit hus,” a soft, quiet voice spat from behind him. Declan’s spine stiffened and he swallowed.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said immediately. The knife in his back didn’t move but there was silence in response, Declan immediately berated himself. He hadn’t prepared for the fact the boy might not speak English. He raised both of his hands and turned round, swallowing nervously as he realised the boy was an inch or so taller than him despite being nearly a decade younger. He did however lower his knife and his blonde eyebrows furrowed, Declan thankfully he’d the fact he did not look like a threat on his side. He kept one arm raised as he slipped his phone out of his pocket. The boy nervously raised the knife again before Declan held it up and began typing into it. He opened Google translate, and thought for a moment before typing: I’m not going to hurt you. He passed it to the boy, who reluctantly took the item, his eyes narrowed and head tilted as if he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. He could however read what was on the screen. He looked at it bewildered, and Declan used a pale finger to press on the screen bringing up the keyboard. The boy slowly began to type something in reply. Declan bit his bottom lip in an attempt to not be frustrated and impatient. He took the phone and saw the small words on his screen: what are you doing here? Declan sighed in relief as he took his phone back to reply. It seemed they had a way to communicate.

I want to help you. My names Declan. What’s yours? He smiled as he passed the phone back but looked away with burning red cheeks as the boy simply scowled.

Mathias. Help how? But his silver eyes softened as he looked back up and his scowl became a confused frown

How would you like to leave this house? Declan asked hopefully, but Mathias shook his head before he started typing again.

I can’t leave. Papa would kill me.

I’ll have you out of here before he knows you’re gone.

Why should I trust you?

Declan paused at that. He didn’t have an answer, he started typing and deleting what he had to say several times.

I don’t know. He began, the only plan he had was honesty. Hopefully that’d work, because if he had to drug and drag Mathias to safety he would. But if I wanted to kidnap you, I could have drugged you and had you out of here before you realised. You can keep that knife on you if it makes you feel better. You could beat me in a fight worst comes to worst. I just want to help you. Declan stared as he saw Mathias read the message and suspected the paragraph wasn’t translated too well, but eventually he nodded and began typing with a small, satisfied smile on his lips.

What do you want me to do?

I’ll be here tomorrow with a bag. You pack everything you want to keep. And I have two plane tickets for us back to go back to England.

Why are you helping me?

Because I wished someone had helped me. As soon as Declan said it he regretted it, it sounded cheesy to him but Mathias grinned as he read it. There was a shared understanding between them, even if they couldn’t quite understand each other.

[the-melting-world]

The King and I 🍋

Khleo x Mathias

~ In which a secretive barhand meets a mysterious king...

For @ligiawrites! Ligi-chan/anjinha/aquarius-sensei!!! Thank you so much for letting me borrow your wonderful and captivating Mathias! I absolutely loved writing this and hopefully you will laugh at all of my cheesy jokes and shoutouts. You have no other choice! 😜

Khleo’s pronouns for this fic: she

tagging: @hirodraggg

cw: lemony content ahead! 

~ 1.8k words

***

Khleo was lost. Again. She didn’t particularly like the Palace, but interesting things tended to happen whenever she was there.

Like this foreign dignitary she kept seeing around. Khleo didn’t know his name, but she could recognize him easily. He wore a crown. Fashioned more like a rustic diadem, but he carried himself in a way that spelled it out as nothing less than a crown. So, a prince perhaps?

It wasn’t Beerfest, but Khleo had shown up to the Palace in one of her traditional garments — a dress to be precise. Red with gold and green embroidery, practical, equipped with an olive green apron. The stockings and boots, Khleo kept the same. Black on brown leather today.

Khleo felt confident as always, and… pretty in a way she typically didn’t. But this special occasion wasn’t for leisure. She was here for work. The Palace was holding some event for which Khleo and her coworkers had been hired as caterers, tasked with cultivating an authentic Beerfest experience. This meant plenty of music, dancing, serving, sampling, tasting, and of course, drinking.

The palace guests could indulge, but the barhands were encouraged to stay sober, alert and attentive to every noble’s needs. It was exhausting and not all the guests were patient, but Khleo made it through the day. She always did.

The Countess, an inspiring figure of regality, grace, and from what Khleo could tell, kindness, offered private baths to all the caterers once the event had wrapped up.

Khleo waited until all of the barrels had been packed up before she helped herself to the bathing chambers. She didn’t seek out an escort despite the fact that she didn’t know her way around. She found that idle wandering could sometimes lead to an ideal encounter. For example, maybe there was a chance she would run into that foreign prince with the butter-toned, silken hair and humble yet telling crown. 

Khleo had refilled his cup a few times and each time he had met her gaze. There was a quiet confidence about him, a reserved cheerfulness. He smiled at her through soft, long lashes. He thanked Khleo when many guests did not. He maintained the sort of eye contact that didn’t expect anything from her, but rather respected everything about her.

Maybe there was a chance Khleo could be looked at like that again before the end of the day. And perhaps unburdened with her responsibilities, she would have a chance to properly look back.

Or… Khleo gritted her teeth at the ache in her back and ankles — maybe she was doomed to get lost in the halls of a fortress she had no business exploring in the first place. She didn’t want to abuse the kindness of the host, so she reached out through her link, hoping Hefe was near.

~Help me. I got lost.~ 

….

~Hefe?~

Nothing. 

Khleo clicked her tongue. Just her luck that her familiar would be out of range.

Khleo sighed. She supposed that if she actually tried, she could locate the baths. All she had to do was listen for running water. 

Khleo’s senses came through this time, leading her down a corridor that was warm with the steam that leaked out from the different rooms. The barhand, who by this time was very ready to soak in something, anything really, let herself inside the first door she came across.

Once she locked the door, she didn’t pay any mind to the decor or whatever else might be going on. There was hot water and a glassless window to ventilate the air, and that was all that mattered. 

Khleo cursed softly as she slipped off her apron and looked defeatedly at the rest of her dress. She forgot that this was a lot more complicated to remove than her everyday garment.

“Would you like some help?”

Khleo spun around, her skirt flaring about her legs.

The visiting prince from before stood about six feet away, half-dressed. His expression was mild, but interested. Definitely interested.

It was then that Khleo recognized where her innate comfort with this stranger came from. He strongly reminded her of the storybook princes and knights from the old tales her father used to read to her. 

When Khleo didn’t come up with a response fast enough, the nobleman glanced around and said in an accent Khleo had never heard before, “Did I mistake the public baths for the private ones?”

Khleo finally found her words. “No, that was my fault. I got lost.” She couldn’t help scanning his torso and then the large bath. “I’ll leave.” Khleo turned for the door. She hesitated when the nobleman spoke up.

Without haste, he said, “There’s more than enough room for us to share. More than enough robes as well.”

Khleo didn’t shy away from the invitation. She half turned, keeping her back mostly to him. Gesturing to the ribbons criss-crossing behind her, she asked, “Do you know how to take this off?”

The noble’s smile grew. “I will try.”

Khleo schooled her features into coolness as he came up behind her and started to unlace the dress.

“You remind me of a tabby cat,” he mused, “sauntering the halls, looking like you know your way around, but you’re simply roaming.”

Khleo’s skin heated at that particular observation. She cleared her throat.

“How did you know I was roaming?”

The noble had loosened enough of her dress to help her shrug it off. His fingers ghosted over her shoulders. Dodging her question from earlier, he asked, “May I? I have a robe ready.”

Khleo offered some of her neck. “Sure.”

The storybook prince took the hint and pressed his lips to her skin as he tugged the fabric off. The billowy sleeves slid down the barhand’s muscular arms. Khleo sensed the noble’s reaction in his breath before he even traced the definition in her arms. It stoked the fire climbing up her spine.

To Khleo’s surprise, a new, lighter fabric came over her shoulders. She gripped the robe around her.

“Give me a moment to change, Tabby. I’ll meet you in the bath.”

Khleo didn’t look as she undressed the rest of the way under the robe and headed for the water. She was very aware of the sounds of the nobleman’s own undressing. 

Khleo slid into the water, forgetting about her company momentarily while she soaked her tender muscles.

“So,” the nobleman’s voice came from across the pool. “What’s your real name?”

Khleo opened her eyes and comfortably met his easy gray gaze. “That’s okay. You can keep calling me tabby. I don’t mind.”

He smiled. “I will, but I still want to know how you’re called.”

The barhand swallowed a minor lump in her throat. “It’s Khleo.”

The noble’s smile sweetened. “So you do have a little leo in you. I wasn’t that far off.”

Khleo gave him the once over. “So what, are you like a prince or something?”

“Mm.” He shifted so that his robe slipped down his lean, defined chest. “A king, actually.”

Khleo snorted. “Yeah, right.”

He arched a brow before saying, “My name is Mathias Jan Yvanson.”

Something about the delivery of the title made Khleo sit up a little straighter. “Damn.” She gave a nervous chuckle. “That does sound like the name of a king. So, what kind are you if you don’t mind me asking? The benevolent kind? Or the cruel kind? Are you a fair king?”

Mathias — gods, what a name — leaned back against the rim of the tub, stretching his long arms over the edge. 

“What do you think, Tabby? You seem to be a pretty good judge of character.”

Khleo’s eyes hungrily scanned Mathias in this new position. Low and blunt, she said, “I have to be honest, Mathias. Right now you just look like you’re good in the sack.”

The king tilted his head. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not from around here so I don’t know what that means.”

Khleo tipped her chin forward. “Come over here and I’ll show you.”

In seconds, Mathias was pressed against Khleo, kissing her heatedly and repeatedly. Khleo tried to contain herself, but the robes were coming off and her legs were spreading for him.

“Where do you want to go from here, Tabby?” Mathias muttered with her nipple caged between his teeth. “I’m all yours.”

Khleo reached for his right hand and guided it between her legs. “You don’t have to, but this would be nice.” 

Mathias lifted up his head and shifted until he was sitting against the wall of the drum. He pulled Khleo into his lap and easily worked two fingers into her core.

Khleo mewled unexpectedly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his long hair, pale and herbaceous like the auras of angels.

“Are you sensitive?” Mathias asked softly, slowing down the stroke of his wrist.

Khleo gasped for breath as her core flickered around his fingers. “Huh. A little.” 

Mathias kissed her with a reassuring hum, calling her a charming little leo in between. Khleo relaxed around his fingers, let her hands drift into his hair, which — gods — felt even softer than it looked. 

Khleo folded until she found his shoulder. Those herbaceous notes intensified, tempting her to open her mouth and drag her teeth along his tanned skin.

“I like what you’re doing, Tabby,” Mathias murmured. “Keep going.”

Khleo purred as she gently sucked marks into his skin. She shifted with each deft twist of his wrist. Dug her teeth in a little deeper when he inserted another finger.

Mathias made a delightful sound. “Leo.”

“Sorry,” Khleo panted.

Mathias withdrew his hand from between her legs to caress her cheek. “Don’t apologize.” His kiss was tender, sweet. “I liked it.”

Khleo took a moment to breathe and actually take in her surroundings. She was in a palace bath with a king. 

“I’m,” Khleo hesitated, “not used to being treated like this.” 

Mathias smiled. “Does that make me a good king?” 

Khleo’s expression turned sly. “I’m not sure yet.” 

Mathias surprised her by helping her straddle his lap.

“Take your time, Tabby. Figure me out.”

 Khleo lifted her hips and eased around his erection. She drifted into a comfortable silence, but Mathias groaned musically until Khleo was snug against his pelvis. 

 “Your arms,” Mathias wet his lips. “How did they get to be so strong?” 

Khleo quieted him with a kiss. “Hush…” Then she cleared her throat and softened her tone. “Please.”

Khleo wasn’t sure if this king was good or cruel or just. But he felt good inside her in the moment and he treated her as an equal despite his status — more than she ever got from someone of the court.

There in the palace baths, Mathias made Khleo feel like she was more than a barhand. And at the same time more as a barhand.

So that was good enough for Khleo.