@unhalloweds - Tumblr Blog

@unhalloweds; a 21+ highly selective indie multi-muse ft. chris redfield from capcom's resident evil. this blog contains other portrayals from overwatch, baldur's gate 3, the mcu, stephen king's IT, & more! contains dead dove: do not eat material, heed the warning. adored by blair [27, they/them, est]. minors and personals DNI. discord available upon request!

001. muse page. 002. mobile muse list. 003. mobile rules & rules from doc. 004. shipping psa. 005. starter calls. 006. ask memes. 007. local gremlin's art page if u wanna commission me! 008. thread tracker!

#PINNED DNI.#WOOOOOOO PROGRESS!

vvcsker

The determination that dilated in Chris' pupils was an intoxicating sight for Wesker. It was simply satisfaction, knowing that no matter how hard Christopher Redfield attempted to escape Wesker's clutches, he would only get himself more tangled. Despite Albert Wesker's lithe and lean frame, he was tall and still able to distribute his weight where it mattered. His reach was further than Chris', and it allowed him to be exceptionally agile in manoeuvres.

Chris was pinned. There was no way out of it. Not unless by some miracle Chris summoned up the strength of two men or managed to wriggle himself free like a worm desperate to get away from a starved bird.

Wesker planted more weight upon Chris when he complained, a fierce look crossing his brow as he smirked, those thin lips curling upwards in triumph. Nobody ever said Wesker wasn't a proud man. He knew his skills, and it was why he'd opted to serve in the Army, to train himself in hand to hand combat, as well as firepower. He'd done a pretty marvellous job at it, too. Albert was a quick learner--always had been. His genetic makeup made him perfect for such a role. An agile athlete and a force to be reckoned with, though of course, Wesker wasn't aware of any of that.

When Chris called it, Wesker released him within an instant. As prideful as he was, he still had his manners, and he still had his own code of honour that he followed. Umbrella and Spencer may have brought him up to be cold and detached, but Albert still understood respect.

"Tut, tut, Chris," he mused as he pushed himself up onto lean legs, looking down as Chris laid on the floor. He chuckled before he offered his hand in peace. "Come now, we both knew you'd not best your Captain. Though it was an admirable effort, I will give you that. Don't allow your anger to frustrate you, you'll leave yourself open."

Chris was the sort of man that Albert respected. He'd served in the Air Force, and been highly recommended by Barry Burton for the S.T.A.R.S. So far, Chris hadn't disappointed, but he was young and still had much to learn. If Wesker could tame him, then he'd be pleased.

unhalloweds

The enunciated click of the captain’s tongue felt more mocking than it needed to; it was Chris’s own deeply rooted determination to attempt some form of success in this situation. When it started, he knew what he was going against– someone more skilled, experienced, precise and swift. That wasn’t to say that Chris wasn’t also skilled in this department, it’d just been that his captain was absolutely correct; when his temper flared itself, it became a prominent block toward responses that seemed logical. Impulsive better described the point man once his mind entered a state of fight or flight; decisions that seemed rash paired with movement that he thought would’ve been unpredictable against someone who was well equipped to deal with exactly that.

It was a loss from the start, but it was a defeat that he was unwilling to accept until it was seen completely through. The aftermath of the collision of his back with the mat was a steady reinforcement, one that had him grumbling to himself as Wesker finally, thankfully, peeled himself off and extended a hand.

Even that felt like another knock to his ego.

Regardless, pushing up upon an elbow, Chris took the offer with a firm clasp and let all of his weight go into the grip as he moved himself to stand.

“Hey, this world is full of possibilities and one of those absolutely includes me eventually getting you down on these stupid mats.” Releasing his hand from the brief lock, he’d brought his palm to dust all but nothing from the front of his chest, the action merely being a means to brush away the prior defeat and pave room for more of his unrelenting resilience.

“Let’s go again,” he’d gestured toward the mat, following the simple movement with a tilt of his head, “I got it this time. I know where I messed up before, and it ain’t happening again.”

#ᴅᴇꜱᴇɴꜱɪᴛɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. | threads ↗ chris.#ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ | chris ↗ S.T.A.R.S.#vvcsker #silly stupid man

describe your muse with crappy ebay reviews. . .

TAGGED BY: @venushorned (TYSM!!!!!!! THIS WAS SO FUNNY) TAGGING: y'all. the good people of the timeline.

#ꜱᴡɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ. | dash ↗ games.#ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ. | muse ↗ chris.

LMAO well since everyone is gathered here now, how’s ur day going team

#I got a new boardgame wooooo #we’ll be doing replies tonight yall #once im back from the woods yeehaw #ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ. | psa ↗ ooc.

anyone else’s discord freakin’ the fuck out or am I just too deep in the woods rn

#idk if it’s my internet or #idek if this will make it LMAO #ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ. | psa ↗ ooc.

condortoroost

that’s 100% certified angus beef redfield

#what a man #ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱ. | muse ⇗ chris.

good morning chat <3

#ITS FRIDAY WOOOOOOOOO #ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ. | psa ↗ ooc.

voicestold

unhalloweds

With the way he’d started to tilt the screen of his laptop back, there was now a glare settling over the portion of his screen where he’d typed a few of his own notes down. An entire wash over the section, making it so that he could barely see what he was passively notating once he’d responded to Leon– in his defense, he was putting a foot down on the gas to get his attention back to where it needed to be, but he knew he’d already dug himself a grave by entertaining the texts in the first place.

“With the progress we have, I feel we may be able to advance within the next couple of weeks. Everything is clear from our reports and surveillance.” Rolando affirmed while Chris let his eyes squint to try and trail over every detail he had on his end.

“I agree, we just need to be careful. Even in these next few weeks, if that’s the timeline that seems to best fit post-recon, anything could change. I will give a clear date tomorrow for us to focus on after I go through everything we’ve talked about today, this way the idea is clear on when to prep and go.” Chris brought a hand to tilt his monitor back down just a fraction, adjusting against the annoying after-haze of the setting sun to type his thoughts down, reiterating the confirmation that’d just been relayed.

His phone went off in that time.

He’d left it with the screen up to easily read everything he’d been receiving now, something he wasn’t certain on whether or not it was a mistake. It was the second text that had him shifting in his seat, grating his teeth together between the hard crunch of his jaw as he continued to press his fingers hastily against the keys.

“I’ll be seeing Dion in a few days, I can go over everything that I have from this, too. He should be returning with any signature readings that may have popped up over his few days of staking the area.” Charlie informed.

Chris nodded in acknowledgement; he would’ve preferred everyone be here on the call, but that wasn’t possible when two others from his squad were currently at the site. It was a patrol that was being done in sequences, and each meeting had become tedious in getting everyone together at the same time. It didn’t worry him too much, as they all continued to work on the same page, and he would get everyone together for one last base touch before they went wheels up together. It wasn’t a perfect system, but he had enough faith in his team over a job that was much smaller in comparison to most of what they’d done together– which wasn't a lot, but starting with a large-scale attack on a village set the scene for how they’d operate together moving forward.

In essence, Chris trusted his team. Not something he felt often, anymore.

The steady hum of his phone grabbed his attention once more, and upon glancing at the notification this time, Chris could feel his heart drop down into his stomach before rocketing itself back up.

From the speaker of his laptop, Rolando started to ramble about potential error margins, which had been exactly Chris’s next point as well, mostly as a lead in from his statement prior. The rhythm of the way they all worked was the type of cohesion that he’d been looking for, and with his second-in-command taking the reins on what would likely be the last segment of this call, Chris chanced his attention toward his phone.

A fucking video.

Be the bigger person here and just wait. This meeting is almost over, this is the last bullet point. Should be no longer than ten minutes.

Not like the ache in his pants appreciated the idea or the rouse at all. Not at a time like this.

The thumbnail was enticing enough; Leon with his legs spread, bent at the knees, giving a full view of everything the front had to offer with a hand wrapped around his cock. The expression over his features ignited a low fire within Chris’s stomach; the light pinch of his brows, the flush over his cheeks that’d dusted down toward his chest.

He quickly made sure that the volume of his phone was off before pressing on the video– the fix of his eyes instantly trained themselves on the languid, lazy movement of Leon’s hand. The video wasn’t long– short enough for Chris to watch it at least three times to take in the view of everything that it offered, finding a new place to focus his attention each time it repeated. The train to his vision zeroed on Leon’s lips during the third cycle, and even without the sound he knew exactly what it was that’d been bumbling from his mouth.

[TXT]: The moment this is over, I’ll be there [TXT]: Keep playing with yourself, but don’t cum [TXT]: Make yourself useful and fuck yourself on your fingers for me

“Does that sound like everything, Captain?”

Fuck.

Chris slid his phone away from his laptop, nodding more hastily than he’d initially intended.

“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Charlie repeated, and Chris met his features upon the screen with a scowl.

“I’m not sick– the plan sounds good. These measures are accurate, and we’ll need to keep all of this in mind moving forward. For now, we continue our surveillance over the course of the next week or two, and tomorrow I’ll touch base with everyone throughout the day to relay a potential drop date. Continue to monitor the area, if we uncover anything during these few weeks, we’ll take a step back and look at what we have. So far, as said, everything is going according to plan. But, again, you both know that that can change on a dime.” If the clip to his tone was noted, he would need to bite the urge to slam his laptop shut. Not only was it unprofessional, but these two didn’t deserve the brunt of his frustration like this. “Keep up the good work, and we’ll revisit this at the same time next week. I’ll try to manage times to get everyone together and make this a little more efficient, if we plan to roll out the following week.”

#ᴅᴇꜱᴇɴꜱɪᴛɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. | threads ↗ chris.#voicestold #cw ↗ tw: nsft #nsft #this shit is hilarious to me

warwaited

"Oh, yeah, because I've got a ton of movement I'm not allowed to like writing stuff. Calligraphy's great! It's like, it's like swinging a sword. It's like cutting up fruit! You've got your stuff you gotta write and with the brush, you're trying to make those fast, powerful strokes like-"

A series of mouth noises are to follow as Xue mimes writing kanji with a calligraphy brush very aggressively. She may not have the best grasp of the purpose of the art, but she's also listed off several other forms of meditation that might or might not have had good results either. And she did mention Hanzo doing whatever near the end... regardless, she heads over to the screen, reaches, and- realizes the whole thing is in Swedish. A small, comical beat passes before she readjusts to just looking at the pictures.

"Hmh. Yeah... yeah, we might get along. You're a lot easier to talk to than he is, that's for sure." Despite her respect for the elder Shimada, Xue certainly doesn't think he's perfect.

A few options are swept through before the little hellion lights on something she likes - it's unclear if the three or four presses of the button onscreen for hallongrotta is the result of more nervous energy or the desire for several of them. "Okay, well, this body has got its own stuff going on, so..."

No explanation forthcoming.

"Anyway. Look at all these cookies! Wow! I could eat a freakin'- TWO dozen of these and I don't even know what they are! They look so good..." Xue giggles, then something occurs to her. A glance back at Genji. "You, uh- dooo... these things take cash? In yen?"

unhalloweds

It’s like swinging a sword, she says. Though, not only did she articulate it, but she'd demonstrated it, and that earned a laugh from the cyborg.

“I cannot say that swinging a sword is equivalent to putting an ink brush to paper, but I suppose everyone has… different… interpretations on the art of both.” That even seemed like an understatement coming from him after the erratic display of how calligraphy was allegedly done. If anything, it made him that much more curious to see what her penmanship looked like, if that was anything to go by.

The smile hidden behind his veil hadn’t waned as they approached the screens for ordering, not even her comment about his brother had tampered its twitch. There was no more to be said about how contrasting both Hanzo and Genji were, but it was amusing to hear it from yet another perspective. Night and day, both brothers were, and that theory continued to prove itself as true with each new face that had gotten to experience each as individuals. Even as they’d gotten older, Kiriko still held the same belief; if anything, she faced the brunt of Hanzo’s more aggressive tendencies as they were younger.

“Don’t start our relationship with a probability, let us prove it with certainty. There is no harm in setting a solid stone in the beginning of a friendship.” Genji did enjoy her company, even if they’d only known each other for the better half of close to an hour by now. He was quick to assess those in his life, but he allowed himself the room to breathe where error existed.

When it came to Xue, every assessment had deemed itself positive thus far. There was an energy to the woman that Genji could appreciate, something that seemed to match his own even if he’d displayed himself in a more docile manner.

Atop the screen, the quiet click of his fingers quickly found what he deemed his personal favorite from the Swedish variety–Sörgårdste. A black tea infused with passion fruit, strawberry, and rhubarb, making it far more sweeter than most teas he’d been used to. Near him, he could hear the continual tap, tap, tap, against the illumination of her own selection. “Are you looking to share those?” He’d joked, biting against his tongue to question what she’d meant regarding her own body.

It was information stored for later.

Once he’d finalized his own order, he’d paid for his items with an amused hum, “The hallongrottor is very good. Chokladsnittar is probably my favorite.” A small receipt with a number crawled itself from the bottom of the machine, and Genji swiped it before moving toward Xue’s menu. “I can cover this if you go and find a table.”

#ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴜᴘ. | threads ↗ genji shimada.#warwaited

warwaited

@unhalloweds

"You may not expect a call for temperance to come from this source, paleman, but I urge you consider carefully the options available to us."

One probably wouldn't expect Rakatak to be arguing in favour of the reason her armour is spattered with acid, either, but for some reason this is where she's chosen to stake her claim. The hobgoblin stalks around to the other side of Ethel, having weathered a torrent of mockery about her chosen method of waging war and come out far ahead. Now, with the crone well and truly beaten, that impressive nose has apparently smelled something other than blood.

"She is correct in one thing: her value is more to us alive than dead, not least because she has powerful magics. The tenets of the oath dictate that opposition must be crushed, and does this not strike you as a foe who will never again raise her hand to us?"

Rakatak gently jabs the Tooth in Ethel's general direction to underscore the point. The hag hisses. The paladin chuckles. "It would be tactically pointless to execute her when she is presenting such a... spread of tithes to preserve herself."

unhalloweds

It was no easy battle– both the physical fight and the mental hoops gone through to determine whether or not this hag was someone that could have been trusted in the first place.

From the moment that they’d met her within the druid’s Grove, Gale had a strange feeling about the lady. Sure, they’d mentioned their condition to her and she noted it with a source of potential aid, but he got the feeling that there was more than what met the eye with her. On a normal day, he would’ve been more prideful of the fact that he’d been right about his low-bellied assumption– though none of their days thus far had been normal, had they?

Their fight with her had been less than appealing; the hag had thrown vicious dissent his way, rot and ruin, telling him that she could either smell or sense the burning boil within his soul. He didn’t like that– by now, it’d been no secret to their posse, as the festering hunger of the orb had caught up much faster than he would’ve anticipated. It only made sense, considering his use of magic at this point had been far greater than anything he would’ve indulged himself with back in Waterdeep, secluded in the lonely yet comforting walls that provided a blanket to the potential disaster that stirred within him.

Out here, the more he enticed the drain of his own abilities, there was no knowing how much that limit could push upon itself. It only became a matter of time until he’d needed to consume something.

From the pit of his chest with the brandish of a familiar heat, indicating that he’d overused himself in this fight, a heavy heave left the wizard’s lips as the hag had been defeated. Or– brought close enough to a brink of certain death that forced her twisted lips to bargain with them.

Gale wanted her gone. One less evil on this plane to potentially step in their way in the future.

Though, his own conclusion had been shelved in lieu of the hobgoblin speaking peace – or some semblance of it – on the matter. And no, Gale had not expected such a suggestion from the woman, though her positioning on the matter did allow his own pointed bias to expand upon itself.

Ethel was frightened, so much was proven true with just the thrust of the paladin’s weapon in her direction.

But what did that serve them? This is what hags were known to do, bargain their lives if they were cornered with the sickly promise of a deal that granted little benefit to the receiving party. In this case, she was willing to part with a piece of herself for the betterment of one of their own lives. Could that be trusted?

“Say we take this offering,” Gale mused, his stance finally correcting itself after its slight hunch from the efforts of the Weave within him, “Why should we trust its benefit? Have you not learned how these crones work themselves? If we keep her alive, we’re merely allowing her to puppeteer ourselves moving forward. Who isn’t to say that she becomes a force of our future?”

Gale understood Rakatak’s perspective, it outlined itself clearly– his only worry had been the fact of if this was simply a function of the paladin’s oaths, as she’d mentioned. That wasn’t something that Gale necessarily collected within his own morals or values; removing a threat like this seemed like a straightforward equation for the wizard. He was curious about the thought process that came with moving forward.

#ʟᴀᴄʀɪᴍᴏꜱᴀ. | threads ↗ gale.#warwaited #gale vc: r u fuckn insane???

Locking In, what's good team

#well until i play ow drives for a lil bit but #LOCKING IN until then #my goal is to do at LEAST 6 drafts tonight #ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ. | psa ↗ ooc.

edeer-moved

Soldier: 24 / Blackwatch / Reaper

#ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱ. | muse ⇗ gabriel.#oh the sweetest boi look at u #i say sweetest in the most joking manner i can muster

it is thursday, my dudes. it is overcast, it is a Prime fall day, and my energy has surged. i have enough of it to even look like a HUMAN TODAY!!! i hope yall have a great day and it is ALMOST THE WEEKEND!!!

i need to add black back into my hair immediately, this will be a weekend thing

#mun photos or w/e under the cut #i am about to take a walk in drink in the fucking weather #ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ. | psa ↗ ooc.

tormentedties

The building of the arousal that pressed against tightened pants wasn’t being aided by the other man — depending on one’s definition at least. When it came to anything of this accord, despite the attitude that shone itself with every fall of his vocals, Leon’s request came from the need to feel more of the man pressed against his form, to be left with evidence of the unravelling thread between them, even as they forced themselves closer than he would have pictured them getting before now.

Every spark of his imagination when it came to Chris, the fantasies his mind would conjure up during times he was alone, a mind that ran places even when he didn’t want to.

It wasn’t as though Leon found himself opposed to pain, the way it fizzled out into something pleasant but what his goals didn’t align with it. He simply wanted to feel more of him, to have his marks littering his skin, and as Chris granted him that bliss Leon could feel the sharp, pointed groan that pulled from the recesses of his throat, filtering out into something breathless as he pawed at the other figure, honing in on the feeling of teeth grinding into his flesh as his hips moved involuntarily against him, adding to the shock against his nerves.

Here and now was far from an appropriate place to have all of this transpire, the risk tenfold when on one hand they were here on a job and on the other they were awaiting rescue. Grinding against the toned muscle of Chris’ thigh, with his thoughts all scattered and nerves array was not how he foresaw everything coming ahead. Not that he was complaining necessarily, but he wanted more of the other. Closer contact, more access than he had been granted already.

But he could be content with this; with feeling Chris pressed against him, with his mouth attached to his neck as though he was on a mission.

No pun intended.

“Fuck—“ He breathed back, tilting his head further off to the side in order to allow Chris more access, the loud thrum of pleasure coursing through his system, the uptick of his heart dancing against his ears as he allowed himself to be swallowed into the void. A mistake, really, when it made everything all that more pressing, abdomen tightening under the assault as he continued his attention to the strain in the other’s pants, stroking the length as much as he could given the thickness of the fabric. A broken laugh pulled from his throat, exhaling slowly as a means to keep himself together. “Maybe not. But you woulda got your answer,” he uttered, lidded eyes opening. Heat spread itself over his cheeks, traversing down to his neck and collecting in a rosy flesh on his ears, warm all over.

Putty in Chris’ hands — or well. Against his thigh.

“Ain’t gotten myself in this situation before, so can’t say I’ve got a thing for getting it on in an elevator. Got more of a you thing.” Words wisped from his lungs, almost a whisper in the coverage of the build of lust coursing through his system. No this hadn’t been exactly how he thought this would turn out if anything ever happened between them, but God he couldn’t bring himself to care.

And that lack of care only amplified as Chris kissed him back. Messy, uncoordinated, short breaths passing through as a shiver ran along his spine as he felt the introduction of his tongue, all too happy to abide. The slow build of an addiction was forming, and it cemented his own desire for more with the other. Something other than a desperate haze, the clash of bodies in a confined space, and the thrill attached to it all. Chris made him dizzy, intoxicated in a way he swore he’d never experienced before, and Leon couldn’t help himself to chase after it. Hands that dragged him along applied an electrifying pressure that aided in the tightening coil in his abdomen, and his free hand came to wrap around built shoulders.

Both as a means for support and to keep himself pressed as close as possible. The growl had been far more attractive than he could have anticipated, frying the last remains of his thought process as his mind stuck to it — to everything that Chris offered.

A quiet sound of protest parted from plush lips as they detached, lidded eyes half opening as his breath fanned against the others. “Of course I want more of you later. Ain’t no ifs about — fuck — about it, Chris.” He muttered. The urge to press forward and capture him again persisted against a hazed mind, but he’d made it clear that he wanted to watch him unravel, and despite it all, the desire to please, to have it be as good for Chris as it felt for him was louder than anything else. Leon knew it was contingent on how the rest of the mission would play out; if they got out of there alive and well. More men lent itself to the chances of that happening, and regardless of the earlier climb of anxiety on the site, he chose to focus on the chance they would. Not just for selfish reasons, but because it stopped the potential spiral to be found.

The rock of his own hips found their pacing, head tilting back with a light thud against metal as fingers curled into fabric, the spike of his own heartbeat pumping against his ears. Digits wrapped against the outline of material matched the movements, switching between stroking and squeezing. It didn’t take long for him to come undone, gasping under the intensity as he came, shockwaves of pleasure rolling along his figure, down his spine as a moan of the others name gripped at him, eyes shutting under its weight — a poor decision as it made it worse, but the release from the build up washed all of that away.

unhalloweds

Got more of a ‘you’ thing.

Chris was far too fucking old for something like that to have his chest fluttering upon itself.

But it did, and he couldn’t help but think about the relativity of what was going on between them. It’d been months of the same game, one that Chris would’ve been more than content to keep to himself for multiple different goddamn reasons; the loudest one being the gap between them. Not just in age, but everything else that came with living. Experience, maturity– Leon was just young in a way that made Chris feel like he was intruding on something far too fucking innocent for the blood washed over his hands. For every year that’d hardened him and caved him away from what it felt like to even be alive– the pressure of his job and every little aspect of it that ripped the seams of who he used to be.

Leon was just starting this life– one that Chris had dragged him into without even thinking about it. Above everything, Chris looked at skill and determination; devotion and resilience, all of which Leon checked every single box for. Everything else that slowly culminated itself behind the scenes hadn’t been accounted for.

Chris knew that if he landed himself in this precise position with Leon, he wouldn’t want him to be facing the same horrible bullshit that he did. Leon didn’t deserve that– but that was a line of thought that he’d wanted to avoid. It was conflicting; his dedication to pumping out soldiers that would work on the frontlines with him, help aid him in the fight, versus the compulsory instinct to protect what he fucking cherished. It was different– of course he did his best to protect his men, and he would give Leon that same treatment, but it was fucking different.

Chris hated that.

His hands hadn’t relented on their squeeze over Leon’s hips, if anything, they’d tightened themselves impossibly harder into the fabric of the gear with a dulled hope that there would be bruises from the attempted brutality of his fingers. With their faces merely inches apart, Chris let his eyes dart over every inch of Leon’s visage, almost soaking in the picture while he’d had the chance to do so. Flushed and full of arousal, Leon looked like the object of his fucking dreams.

Despite his gut telling him that this was bad, bad beyond his current comprehension, there was a spark ignited within himself under the pressure of merely hoping that they made it out of this alive.

“Then be a good boy and follow the order.”

Chris wanted to watch it all. There was far more that he’d wanted to do, but he was not getting either of them into a situation that would’ve been more hassle than they needed. Being able to watch Leon fuck himself on his thigh was, truthfully, good enough for now. It told Chris one loud piece of information about their entanglement, and that’d been the fact that Leon wanted him just as badly.

He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. Leon knew nothing about him other than his status, title, and that he’d stolen the room whenever he walked into one. That was what he was meant to do, that was who he was on a surface level– the rookie didn’t know how many lives he had hanging over his head. He didn’t know the ugly side that existed within the captain.

The movement on Leon’s hips broke from a steady pace, syncopating rather sporadically atop the expanse of his thigh as he continue to press the muscle upward; the hand upon his own erection was just a sloppy as their kiss had been, haphazard and lucid while the rookie’s focus retained itself on the expulsion of his own pleasure. Chris didn’t mind at all– in fact, that was precisely what he’d been looking for. There was a twisted satisfaction in knowing that this was enough for Leon.

Hungry hues of chestnut scaled the delicate planes of Leon’s visage as the pleasure unraveled itself in slow tiers; a part of his lips, the punched out gasp that broke from them, followed by the intoxicating lull of his own name falling from the loose drag of the other’s tongue. A sound that managed to send a slithered chill down the captain’s spine as his hands only furthered their motions, a continual back and forth with Leon’s hips to drag him through the depths of his orgasm.

As the tension left itself in palpable waves from Leon’s frame, Chris slowly eased on his motions before ceasing it all at once. A content hum sounded from the grate of his throat, the dance of his eyes a perpetual exploration over the presented features as if he’d been trying to commit it all to memory.

One hand left its purchase over the rookie’s hip to come and cup under the frame of his jaw before Chris closed the distance once more with a seal of his lips, spiteful against the tide of uncertainty within his own chest as he sought his own satisfaction. It was slow and controlled, though packed with a warmth of passion as if he hadn’t been on some form of time crunch. It’d been after a few beats of air that he pulled away, just enough to have their lips brush against each other as he spoke, “We’ll continue this later. Let’s focus on getting the fuck out of here now.”

#ᴅᴇꜱᴇɴꜱɪᴛɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. | threads ↗ chris.#cw ↗ tw: nsft #nsft #tormentedties #ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ | chris ↗ 2&8 au.

shuffle your playlist and post the first 10 songs, && then tag 10 people . . .

➠ Stare Into the Abyss || Between The Buried and Me ➠ The Mimic Is a Cynic || The Dear Hunter ➠ Have a Blast || Periphery ➠ Sugar || System Of A Down ➠ Break Stuff || Limp Bizkit ➠ City of Delusion || Muse ➠ Planets || Avenged Sevenfold ➠ Bone Marrow || Protest The Hero ➠ Rude || Nyu. ➠ King || TesseracT

STOLE IT FROM: @vvcsker ehehehehe TAGGING: yeah i'll be that guy and try to tag ten. @voicestold @warwaited @tormentedties @devilshowdy @storyborn @cripplemagics @gerudospiriit @replicae @diedindulvey @voraclty and if u did it already, continue w ur day like my silly ass DIDNT tag u <3

#GOOD MORNING TEAM #i see music and i run #ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ. | psa ↗ ooc.#ꜱᴡɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ. | dash ↗ games.

diedindulvey

unhalloweds

Chris would be an absolute liar if he said he didn’t enjoy the plea of his naming falling from Ethan’s mouth.

He’d seen this man in many different shades of the emotional wheel; enraged, frustrated, content (certainly not often compared to the rest), upset. Each color was so vibrant, loud against the grain of his features that it was hard not to notice just how much he’d expressed himself. Ethan was just an expressive guy, and there was some form of Chris that had come to appreciate it because he was not the best at picking up on signals all the time. Chris liked humanistic problems that were straightforward, driven with an answer that he didn’t have to do miles of digging on. The more direct someone was with him, the better he could offer his help; if he had to jump hoops and do an entire investigation on why someone was feeling a certain way, it left him rather irritated with himself because he couldn’t offer solutions that were applicable, or any that made sense.

Not without the knowledge of the root problem, of course.

None of this was to say that he knew exactly what Ethan’s problem was all of the time– there were still moments where Chris would simply walk away because it’d become aggravating for himself, as well. This one was just easy; easy to read, easy to pick apart, and very obvious with the flushed height of Ethan’s cheeks whenever Chris got too close.

Chris wasn’t dense– not entirely.

It’d been something of an accomplishment to have Ethan debased into a state like this, moaning his name and pleading for something that Chris truthfully didn’t even think about until this moment. Well– that was a lie. He’d certainly thought about Ethan before, but Chris wasn’t disrespectful to any relations that were already established.

This was… an outlier, of course. Couldn’t necessarily say it was a ‘slip and fell in’ situation, but it was the closest argument he had for how they ended up like this.

A low hum reverberated itself within his chest as if deciding whether those cries were worth it or not– Chris figured he could do better than that, but the mild lace of desperation was cute enough. Dramatic, was the word he would’ve used to describe everything that’d just graced his ears. Or needy, but he did ask for this, didn’t he?

“Don’t think that’s really all you got, so we’ll take this real slow until you prove yourself a little better than that.”

In truth, he was just seeing how much Ethan would bend.

One hand moved to brace against Ethan’s frame on the table under him, as the other acted as a temporary guide for his cock against his entrance; a firm grip toward the base while he let his hips ease themselves forward, nothing but the grace of his own spit aiding him against the resistive pressure of his hole. Chris bit back the rise of a groan in his throat, clenching his jaw to keep the sound stifled once the heat seized itself around his cock. “Keep talkin’ and I’ll give you more.”

#ᴅᴇꜱᴇɴꜱɪᴛɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ. | threads ↗ chris.#cw ↗ tw: nsft #nsft #diedindulvey #this one had me giggling as i wrote it

tormentedties

Every sensation that coiled and coursed through him accumulated as too much, though Kháos found himself with little to no complaints. It was simply new — whilst he had fed from Gabriel more times than the restrictive blood bags they had originally offered, and had slept with him more times than he cared to count, mixing feeding with sex — sneaking around with members a breath away from their coupling and feeling Gabriel’s hand working with him was an ecstasy he couldn’t describe.

Teeth clinging to flesh served to silence himself, droplets of blood blossoming from the clench of his jaw as his orgasm washed over him, quiet gasps slipping through the gap as his own repetitive moments continued, aiming to tip the other over the edge in turn. It offered a craved silence to his mind, an allowance for his body to act without having to deal with the thoughts that usually coursed through a fragmented mind. Fingers dug into the hosting shoulders he had used to steady himself, a light tremble wrecking his body as he pushed past his own limits, sensitivity only increasing as Gabriel dragged him down, angling the thrust at just the right spot, the utterance from beautifully parted lips ringing out melodically against keen ears.

It was a shame they had to be quiet — Kháos always did discern a great satisfaction from the others vocals. But the physiological reactions would suffice, paired with the knowledge he had been the cause of it all.

The daze that curled around the edges was overtly pleasant, replacing every fixation on failure his mind had clung to. It was only as Gabriel achieved his own finish that he allowed himself to slow down, chest heaving and body flushed. Kháos lent against the other man, detaching his teeth with a baited breath as he ran his tongue along the new wound. Pretty. It would leave his mark, the familiar sight of bruising taking its hostage in a way that bubbled him with pride. Their ties were loose, but for now in this moment Gabriel was his. He adorned his marks, from his neck to the thighs he clawed at when he had been on his knees. Rules be damned, that fact was one that no one could take from him.

The agent ran his tongue lazily over the newest addition as he attempted to catch his breath, slowly moving a hand down before he kneaded at the fabric of the commander’s hoodie in a grounding motion as he left he peppered the expanse of flesh. “I’d say I’m sorry but we both know between you liking pain, and the fact I bite, I ain’t.” He mused, eventually resting his head against the other’s shoulder with his features turned towards him.

His thighs burned, a pleasant ache providing in the muscle, against his hips. He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as words sat on the end of his tongue, only to be granted the sight of Gabriel licking his hand clean from the mess that had collected. Oh.

“You have no right to be this attractive.” The words were uttered, as though they were a thought that slipped through the filtering process. He leaned up, pecking Gabriel’s lips once he had finished before finally beginning to remove himself once the tremble of his body had found a calm, wincing slightly from the ache in both hips and his thighs — though it wasn’t unpleasant.

The agent grabbed the discarded clothes, beginning to get himself dressed as he glanced over towards the commander. “You feeling better now?”

unhalloweds

The haze that curled itself within the fuzziness of his limbs was exactly the spread of satisfaction that he’d been seeking. Something that served as a distraction and an aid to the festered fluttering of his chest prior to this moment— now his heart had been accelerated under different circumstances, one much preferred to what he’d been attempting to wane before.

An amused hum buzzed within his chest as they both climbed back down from the heights of euphoria, “Nothing to be sorry about. I wear hoodies for a reason.”

This… wasn’t that reason, but it certainly helped in a situation like this. The commander was known for the shroud to his being, as if the job he’d worked had eventually conformed itself to his being in a way that shaped who he’d become. Someone that operated within the shadows, and inadvertently becoming that shade himself.

In short, walking around with his hood up like someone who’d be better fit for the imagery of a sulking heap of a human wasn’t far from the normal, for him.

The aftermath collected with them curling in on each other while their bodies regained some semblance of a regularity with their lungs, their minds– if they hadn’t been on an aircraft, it may have been nice. The thought remained to be spoiled as he’d been starkly reminded around the vignette of his vision centering itself again that he did, indeed, need to present himself out on the deck again.

He’d been thankful that there hadn’t been much of a mess that managed to curl itself onto his hoodie, but that’d been precisely why he was so quick to collect it with the press of his tongue over his knuckles. The agent’s response to that display pulled a chuckle from the commander, one that’d been muted as lips found his own– a plush part that’d still had remnants of Kháos’s orgasm lazily pulled between the pair, and Gabriel wasn’t subtle with the quick swipe of his tongue, darting out to dance along darkened tiers.

“Hm, weird, because I thought someone not long ago said something about sex appeal. Very condescendingly too, as if I lacked that, or something.” There was a coy pull to his lips once they’d peeled from each other, both men now dwindled down to repairing themselves from their disheveled states. One Kháos lifted himself, Gabriel released a full, low huff of air from his lungs while he shuffled to pull the rest of his clothes back up. Another system of his design that sought itself within the repetition of muscle memory; the snap of tactical pants, the clip of his belt and realignment of each item against his hip.

And to answer the agent’s question? Yes, he was feeling miles better than he had boarding the ship.

“Thanks to your help, much better.” He’d ripped his eyes from the studious fix over his gear to glance up toward Kháos, the smug pull to his expression now flattened to something softer. “Thank you, and I’m… sorry about the lack of prep. Again, not often that I find myself in a situation like this on a ship. Which,” Gabriel stood within the minimal space that existed between them– their knees brushed as he’d been seated while Kháos righted himself. At full height now, their chests skimmed against each other. “I hate to break off so soon, but I’m sure this already looks worse than it will when I go back out there. Here’s to hoping everyone’s asleep already.”

#ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ. | threads ↗ gabriel.#ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ. | gabriel ↗ blackwatch.#tormentedties #cw ↗ tw: nsft #nsft

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