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carmybears · 2 years

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Assembly Required

or - The Inherent Eroticism of Swedish Furniture

This started as a joke and quickly spiraled out of hand

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: What's a new apartment without a trip to Ikea? Building Ikea furniture with Carmy and christening a new apartment

word count: 3.8K

warnings: explicit content, 18+; oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), praise kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, mentions of carmy's gold chain, established relationship

There’s nothing quite as humbling as assembling Ikea furniture.

For such a young man, Carmy had already accomplished a lot more in his life than he ever really expected he would – not just graduating culinary school but excelling in it, working in some of the finest dining establishments in the world, winning a James Beard award, and reopening the family restaurant essentially from the ground up. But god help him if the assembly instructions for this Ingolf dining chair weren’t just going to get the best of him.

Over the course of the past several months, you and Carmy had been in the whirlwind process of moving in together. Deciding to get a place together was one of the easiest decisions he had made since returning to Chicago – he already essentially lived in your apartment, so it only made sense to find a place for the both of you when his lease was up. Apartment hunting had been something of a chore, and he shuddered to think of some of the places you’d seen in listings before stumbling across a shockingly spacious 1 bedroom with a decently renovated kitchen, a surprising amount of natural light, and a relatively easy commute to both the restaurant and your office.

House Hunters, eat your heart out.

As your move-in date came ever closer, every spare moment of your time together had become dedicated to preparing for the move. Many nights, the two of you had shared stories about your own respective days at work over piles of clothes to donate or cardboard boxes lined with packing paper and bubble wrap. Not exactly the sexiest of dates, but he knew that he’d have you all to himself before long.

The day of the actual move went surprisingly well, despite the long hours you’d spent moving boxes from one apartment to the other. Carmy already had very little stuff to actually move, and you’d talked him into hiring professional movers to take the furniture and heavier items to the new place. It left the two of you with plenty of time to methodically move from room to room, unpacking as many boxes as you could before absolutely running out of energy at the end of the day, collapsing on a hastily made bed. It was only at sunrise, when the light began to stream directly into Carmy’s eyes, that you realized you needed to buy curtains.

Well, you needed more than just curtains. In fact, you needed several pieces of furniture and had planned to use Carmy’s second consecutive day off as an opportunity to drive out to the Ikea in Shaumburg and check several items off of your shopping list.

You arrived shortly after opening, and Carmy sipped a gas station coffee lazily from a paper mug as the two of you wandered side by side through the store, occasionally sidetracked by a display featuring items you most certainly did not need. If he hadn’t been with you, he wouldn’t have necessarily enjoyed the shopping process – He had always chosen his furnishings based more on function than form, which he supposed was how he had ended up with a tattered, striped couch that you deemed “fit for a frat basement” and insisted was not allowed in your shared apartment. Still, seeing your eyes light up as you strayed away from his side to pinch the fabric of a throw blanket between your fingers or inspect a set of glassware was surprisingly endearing to him as you leisurely meandered your way through the labyrinthine showroom.

You returned home that afternoon with a bounty of flat packed treasures – four ingolf dining chairs, a Fjallbo coffee table, Hemnes dresser, plus whatever other odds and ends you had thrown into the bright blue and yellow canvas bag. The rest of the day had been spent assembling furniture, a growing mountain of cardboard and Styrofoam amassing along the outskirts of the living room with each item you constructed. The coffee table and dresser had come together with little difficulty, although now Carmy was suspecting that he had met his match as he struggled to comprehend just where exactly he was supposed to be placing a screw in the first of four dining chairs that remained to be assembled.

“You look stumped. Lemme take a look,” you offer, crawling across the new area rug to him.

“Take it,” he relinquishes the instruction sheet to you readily. “I think it’s scrambling my brain just lookin’ at this too long.”

You study the instructions for a moment before pulling the miscellaneous pieces closer to you, brow furrowed in concentration as you pick up the allen wrench and begin the assembly process

He watches in admiration as you work, the chair starting to take form before his very eyes as you hum along to the song playing on the Bluetooth speaker you had set on your newly assembled coffee table. You’re dressed in an Original Beef of Chicagoland t-shirt that you’d stolen from the back office at the restaurant shortly after the grand opening of The Bear, and your crossed legs were bare, save for a black pair of athletic shorts that left very little to the imagination. For a moment, he’s entranced by your thighs, the thought flitting across his mind how he wouldn’t mind being in between them right about now, when he notices a garish mark near your inner thigh.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asks, fingers automatically reaching out to brush across your skin where an angry looking bruise has formed.

“Hmm?” you glance away from your work, down to your lap. “Must just be from moving around all these boxes. It’s no big deal.”

“Sure it doesn’t hurt?” His hand rests on your bare thigh a moment longer and it’s practically Pavlovian the way his mind starts to wander, thinking of all the ways you still have yet to christen the new apartment.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You’re hardly paying attention to him, your eyes glued once more to the page. “Do you see a screw laying around somewhere?”

His mind is lost in thoughts of you – your skin against his, your breathy moans in his ear – when he sees you looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A screw, Carm. Do you see one laying around here somewhere?”

Without waiting for an answer, you rock forward onto your knees, crawling all around the half assembled chair. He starts to look halfheartedly, idly picking up random pages and pieces of cardboard in search of the missing screw, but mostly he’s just eyeing your ass as you crawl around.

A part of him thinks that maybe he should feel just a little bad that he’s not being more helpful in your search – it had been a long weekend after all, and you still had a long way to go before you were fully unpacked and settled in. But on the other hand, he could easily count on one hand how many times the two of you had been intimate in the past two months – busy work schedules, packing lists, and the occasional bickering about what furniture to keep or sell always seemed to get in the way whenever you two had time alone. Or plain exhaustion – can’t forget about that.

Eventually, you give up, sitting back up with your palms pressed to your knees as you let out a groan of frustration. “I can’t believe we’re missing a fucking screw.”

“I think I know where you can get a fucking screw,” Carmy mumbles, not quite sure what devil on his shoulder has clouded his better judgement.

You look at him incredulously, immediately clocking the innuendo. It’s not like you two don’t talk dirty when the occasion calls for it, but damn Carmy can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck as he realizes how crude his thoughts sound when spoken aloud.

“Sorry, I’m as surprised by that as you are,” he apologizes quickly. With fidgeting hands, he starts to rifle through the debris on the floor again, struggling to meet your eye.

When he hears you start to laugh, he steals a look back over at you, noticing that the tension has left your shoulders as you melt into his side, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. He looks down at you and allows an uncertain smile to cross his face as he admires the way your eyes crinkle in laughter as you try to catch your breath.

“That has got to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said me,” you wheeze. “Please say more.”

You don’t give him the opportunity to say another word because you place your hands on his cheeks and pull him into a kiss, still giggling when your lips first make contact. As he wraps an arm around your waist to draw you closer, you melt against him, kissing him in earnest now. Something stirs in the pit of his stomach and he wants more – especially when he feels your fingers twist and tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck. He pulls you flush against him and you groan into his mouth, planting your knees on either side of his hips. You’re all warmth and softness in his lap, and he swears the very blood in his veins turns molten as he realizes how badly he wants you underneath him.

With a swift arc of his arm, he clears the miscellaneous debris from the rug before easing your back down to the floor. His lips are working their way along the line of your jaw when you hear the clatter of something small and metallic skittering across the hardwoods. And just like that, the spell is broken.

“Do you think that was the missing screw?”

“Hmm could be,” he mumbles into your skin, pressing his lips into that spot at the base of your neck that usually makes you squirm. Instead, you’re craning your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the screw among the small mountain of trash, saying something under your breath about how you should check it out.

He inches away from you as you begin to prop yourself up on your elbows underneath him.

“The chair’s really that important right now?” he asks, just barely leveling the twinge of annoyance in his voice.

“We need someplace to sit, Carmy,” you counter.

He snorts just a little at your reasoning. “I can think of someplace better for you to sit right now.”

His remark earns him an eye roll from you, but you pause for a moment in hesitation. He takes that moment as leverage, gripping your hips tight in his hands and drawing them up to meet his, groaning in the back of his throat as your bodies make contact.

“You feel what you do to me right?” he asks, shamelessly incapable of stopping himself from rocking his hips against yours in a desperate search for friction. A small whine escapes the back of your throat and his gaze softens as he looks down on you. “I’ve been missing you like crazy.”

He strokes your cheek, fingers grazing down your cheekbone and along your neck, where he can feel your pulse fluttering rapidly. He knows you well enough that he swears he can see your thoughts happening in real time as realization washes over your features.

“We’ve just been so busy,” you offer weakly. “It’s been hard to make the time.”

“I know, I know,” he presses his lips to yours briefly. “Just be here with me right now, baby. I’ll build you all the chairs you want after.”

You nod furiously, balling his shirt up into your first as you pull him back down to you in a searing kiss. He slips an arm underneath you, pressing you ever closer as his fingers slip underneath your shirt, gliding against soft skin until you’re breathless underneath him. He feels you clawing at his t-shirt and together you both move in a flurry to discard your clothing onto the ground beside you. He’s planting open mouthed kisses onto every accessible inch of feverish skin until he has you bare underneath him.

Your fingers are fiddling impatiently with the zipper on his jeans, pushing them lower down his hips until he kneels back on his heels to finish the job for you. You sit up too, pulling his shirt over his head in a hurried motion before grabbing his arm and coaxing him over to the couch with you.

“Floor not good enough for you?” he asks, leaving a trail of kisses over your collar bones as he presses you down into the cushions.

“I’m just already sore,” you protest, your fingers tracing idly across his shoulder blades.

“But I haven’t even done anything yet,” he croons into your ear, bringing a hand up to knead at your breast.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

And he does know – the subtle aches in the back of his legs and in between his shoulders have been present all day after the grueling hours of moving in the day beforehand. That’s not going to stop him now though, not as your legs fall open under his hands. His dick twitches at the sight of your pussy, evidence of your arousal glistening at the apex of your thighs and he’s like a man enchanted.

“This all for me, baby?” he asks you softly, reaching out to stroke your folds, wetness gathering on his calloused fingers as you squirm into his touch.

“Yes,” you gasp, pleading with him as you grasp his wrist in a feeble attempt to guide his fingers where you so desperately want him. “Carmy, please.”

You don’t have to ask him twice as he sinks two fingers into your snug walls. He studies your face as he touches you – the way you bite back a groan as his fingers stretch you out, admiring the way you tilt your head back, baring your neck to him as the pad of his thumb brushes roughly against your clit.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Carmy.”

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this for me, baby.” It’s true, you do. He thinks you’ve never looked prettier than you do in this apartment, with your proudly thrifted couch, half-built Ikea furniture and granite countertops that he could fuck you on every night if you wanted. With his free hand, he palms heavily over the front of his Calvin Kleins and makes a mental note that the kitchen is next in line for christening. But he has something he wants to do first.

You whine when he removes his hand from between your legs, but before you can protest, he’s maneuvering your thighs closer to the edge of the couch and angling your hips toward himself as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

He can feel your thighs trembling already in anticipation around him and you’re swearing under your breath before he’s even had his first taste of you. He starts with a few furtive licks, allowing the smell and taste of you to invade his senses before delving in deeper, lapping at your drenched pussy with languid strokes of his tongue. Wrapping one arm around your thigh, he pulls your leg over his shoulder, causing a shift of your hips that has the tip of his nose nudging against your clit. He steals a look back up at you just in time for you to cry out in pleasure, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair. Increasingly frantic, you tug at the roots, guiding his mouth where you want him, hips grinding senselessly into his nose and wanting mouth.

“Oh my fucking god,” you groan above him as his lips close around your clit, humming softly. He glides two fingers back into you, thrusting them in and out of you in time with the tight circles he’s making around your clit with his tongue.

“Carmen,” you sob his full first name – not Carmy, not baby, not Chef – Carmen. “Don’t fucking stop. JesusfuckingChrist don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop – wouldn’t dream of it. Even as your thighs clamp together around his head, he’s dizzy with the taste of you, groaning into your pussy as he pushes his tongue into you, big nose pressed into your clit in just the precise way that has you falling apart for him. You’re babbling incoherently as you cum on his face, and he doesn’t hesitate to lap up every wave of pleasure that rolls over you until you’re squirming, oversensitive under his lips.

“Too much, Carm,” you beg. “Please.”

He nuzzles a kiss into your inner thigh, lips pressed right above the bruise he noticed earlier, before crawling back up to you. Your chest is heaving against his as you limply wrap your arms around the back of his neck and he drags his lips along your throat.

“Absolutely insane that we haven’t done this in so long,” you pant, curling your fingers tightly in his hair to angle his mouth back toward yours. He swallows the groan you make when you taste yourself on his tongue and his dick twitches in his underwear at the sensation of your fingernails scratching at his scalp, raking down his back.

“C’mere,” you mumble against his lips, and in an awkward tumble of limbs, you both maneuver so that he’s laying prone on the coach with you sitting at his hips. He can feel the heat of your core so easily through his briefs that he thinks he may go insane. You drive a merciful hand under the waistband of his underwear and grab his aching cock so firmly in your hand that it makes his head spin just a bit as your thumb grazes over the tip. You pump the shaft expertly once, twice and he’s not even quite sure that he’s speaking English anymore.

“Wanna be inside you so bad, baby.”

“Sure you don’t want me to return the favor?” You’re easing his underwear down his thighs, all the while looking him directly in the eyes, your gaze heated. He knows right then and there that he wouldn’t last 5 seconds in your mouth.

“Another time,” he rasps, reaching toward you in a desperate attempt to feel your delicate fingers or the soft curve of your hips – he’ll take any little bit you have to give him. “Just want you now.”

You rock your hips against him, coating the length of him in your wet heat; a low groan in the shape of your name escapes his throat. He wants to chastise you for teasing him, but before he can find the words, you sink down onto him with a soft “Oh.”

There’s a moment of stillness and he drinks in the sight of you, eyes fluttering shut and lips thoroughly kissed and swollen. He can’t help the way the words tumble out of his mouth – “I love you.”

“But I haven’t even done anything yet,” you grin cheekily.

And that’s when you move.

You’re hot and wet around him and he’s absolutely mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing into you repeatedly as you move above him.

“Fuck, you ride my dick so well, baby,” he praises, cupping one breast in his hand, kneading the soft flesh there in time to the rhythm of your hips rocking against his.

There’s a slight tug at the base of his neck as the hand you’ve leveraged against his chest catches on his golden chain, your fingers curling around the glistening metal as if to tether yourself to him. Something flips like a switch then and he needs more of you.

He grabs your hips roughly on the next thrust, pulling you back down onto him so that he’s buried to the hilt. You cry out and grasp at the back of the couch for balance but let him continue to guide your hips, doing everything you can to keep up with the rougher pace he’s setting for you.

“You good?” He checks in, praying the answer is yes.

“Fuck, Carm,” you groan, digging your fingers into his arm and he can feel the stinging sensation of little crescent moons pressing into the skin. “s’good.”

He can feel how badly your legs are shaking as you match his every move. Heat pools in the bottom of his stomach and he knows he won’t be long now. Maintaining the pace as best as he can, he slides a hand between your bodies, swirling his fingertips around the swollen bud of your clit in a way that makes you swear out loud.

Your thighs clench hard on either side of him and it’s all he can do not to fall apart immediately. You’ve all but collapsed onto his chest and your breath is hot on his neck as you whine to him that you’re close.

“I gotchu,” he promises, fingertips still working in time with his hips. “Come for me.”

And you do.

The sensation of your pulsing walls around him is all at once too much and not enough as he digs his heels into the couch, thrusting erratically into you several more times, chasing his high. With a throaty groan, he screws his eyes shut as a wave of euphoria washes over him. For just a few brief seconds, it’s as if there’s nothing in his world but you.

Limbs heavy and bodies absolutely spent, you lay facing each other, just barely able to fit laying side by side on the couch. If he had the foggiest idea which box a throw blanket had been packed into, he would have pulled one up and around your shoulders. Instead, he settles for curling himself around you, skin still flushed and heated from moments before as you tangle your fingers idly in his hair, gazing at him through heavily lidded eyes. He kisses the tip of your nose and runs the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone as your eyes flutter shut.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he jostles your shoulder lightly.

“Mmmh,” you harrumph. “I know, I know. We should get cleaned up.”

“No, I was gonna say we have some chairs to build.”

The smack he receives to the chest is well deserved. Nevertheless, you allow him to coax you from the couch to a warm shower. Afterward, as you finish dressing and preparing for bed, he pads back out to the living room, sifting once again through the pile of cardboard until the glimmer of something silver catches his eye.

You step into the room just in time to see him setting the lost screw atop the coffee table.

“A project for tomorrow,” you promise.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, pressing his lips to your forehead.

He thinks of all the tomorrows you have ahead of you – together in your shared apartment, in your shared lives. And he can’t help but be excited for every single one.

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmy x reader smut #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto x reader #mine #pardon a cheesy ending and the fact that I got lost in the exposition sauce #would you believe the exposition was longer before i made edits?

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mrscakeishere · 4 months

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⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Beta Reviews!

“I just passed the sausages!”

“Omg it really was chipboard!”

“I can't believe you. I just can't.”

Polycakes (me and Polychrome, aka @polychromicron-persei-8) here, proudly hurling the first fanfic grenade in the @goodomensafterdark Smut War with The Long Road To Meatballs (rated Explicit, 4786 words).

Summary and excerpt below!

NSFW CW: light BDSM, butt plugs, oral sex, penis inflation (not in excerpt but on AO3)

The Long Road to Meatballs

After an unfortunate miscommunication regarding the lack of spice in their lives, Aziraphale and Crowley seek out IKEA’s new intimate playroom products for the South Downs cottage. When their purchase—and all 279+ parts—proves too difficult to assemble, Aziraphale and Crowley take matters into their own hands (literally). It's the IKEA comedy smut you never knew you wanted but can't live without.

IKEA had evolved a great deal over the decades, as had Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. The Swedish furniture and furnishings company—in a debatably misguided and belated attempt to be a part of the sex-positivity movement—had developed designs for one’s personal intimate playroom, including the TRÄLDOM, BOTÖVNING, and FLATHET series. In addition, the Swedish designers had managed to produce products for each line that incorporated a not insignificant amount of chipboard.[1] This was quite a feat considering that most of the products listed should have been predominantly made of metal, leather, silicone, latex, or fur.[2]

As for Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship, it had evolved out of a 6000-year drama defined by mutual pining and pegged in by supernatural bureaucracy, into a satisfying pairing filled with safety, stability, and sex. Lovemaking had been glorious and intoxicating, and while it rarely verged into territory that could be considered truly “hedonistic,” both parties were quietly content in their newfound domesticity. But as we both know, dear reader, few things last forever.

And so it was on a mild Tuesday afternoon in the South Downs when an unfortunate exchange concerning Crowley’s cooking planted a seed of doubt in the demon's mind as to whether his angel was truly sexually satisfied.

[1] Note for Americans and other aliens: chipboard is the British term for particle board or low-density fibreboard. Regardless of the term, it is an unsuitable material for any type of sexual activity as it has the ability to absorb moisture like a sponge.

[2] This had led to IKEA ending up in litigation for five years over several regrettable incidents that had occurred with their compressed wooden dildo.

Continue reading on AO3 for Crowley and Aziraphale miscommunications, sex swing assembly complications, witty banter, dowels, sausage jokes, and some first-time sexual experiments: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52376542

Image by Polychrome.

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polyklok · 1 year

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Attention Metalocalypse fans

Do you miss Dethklok? Just want a tiny bit more?

I’m not sure how many people are aware, but I’d thought I’d spread the word anyway-

There were DVD special clips of unscripted Dethklok interviews, some tv extras, other little tidbits and it’s extremely important to me that they are seen and HEARD

First of all, there’s a classic of Dethklok listing bands for over 20 minutes. It’s so dumb but nothing has made me smile so stupidly like this has. They all hype eachother up, Toki goes sicko, it fucking rules.

There’s also Skwisgaar teaching us how to play guitar. If you’re into silly degradation by a bimbo Swedish guitar god, this is probably for you. He also…sells us a guitar?

You obviously got Nathan Explosion reading Shakespeare (not really) and then he does it some more! (Not really)

Dethklok just…watching NASCAR. (Part of the reason why I think Murderface is from the deep south) Maybe that’s not classy enough for you; not enough Zazz? That’s alright, they also visit IKEA!

(A non-video one, which is surprising) Revolver interviews Nathan Explosion, in which this goth himbo realizes he doesn’t remember being borne

Okay, so I’m editing this bit by bit and this lovely person posted another non-video Dethklok interview, this time with Toki and Murderface reviewing music!

Eddie Riggs roadies for Dethklok. Reminder to all the Jack Black was/is a large fan of Metalocalypse! Also, they summon death (may or may not be related, I’m unsure)

Charles gettin drunk with the band! (This one might’ve been in the show…I don’t remember)

Murderface goes to the opera and talks awkwardly on the phone for too long. Like, way too long. Seriously.

Pickles goes on a trip. It’s wonderful to just hear him ramble honestly.

Don’t like Murderface? First of all, how fucking dare you. Secondly, you can listen to Charles Offdensen on the phone instead! Maybe they’re talking to each other!

Toki vs Skwisgaar staredown, courtesy of @doomstar because I forgot it! Skwisgaar, honey, your homosketuality is showing.

Dick Knubbler interviews Murderface and Toki over the song ‘Takin’ it easy’ (a classic)

Murderface plays wheelchair bound, “I wish my grandma was dead.”

Pickles the drummer is drunk is public. That’s the whole thing.

You can listen to Facebones selling you Dethklok references or even Facebones giving a special Mordhaus tour!

Facebones listing types of klokateers? Sure! How’s about Facebones (also the scientists) explains moshing? Not your cuppa tea? That’s ok, you can listen to Facebones…names… places…

A memorial for the dead klokateers, very emotional. Also Inside Mordhaus; The Klokateer story, which sorta gives us a small view into the true intensity of the job.

SoundGarden’s ‘black rain’, which pretty heavily includes Dethklok in the music video. It’s actually a very cool reference.

Dethklok gets in tune, where they just struggle with their instruments for a bit…yeah

A ‘fact or fiction’ interview that’s actually pretty recent, all things considered.

This extras compilation video, while it does include a lot of the stuff already on this list, it also has other stuff that I can find individually or some random interviews. If you have some time, I’d give it a looksie!

There’s also short ‘interview’ clips. Dethklok talking about;

Politics

Education

Family

Insects (I particularly like this one because pickles forces the rest of the band into a closet so he can have alone time)

Women

Fans

Disasters

Food

And the future

It’s just nice to get a little extra content, ya know?

#metalocalypse #dethklok #pickles the drummer #skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #william murderface #toki wartooth #adult swim

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slafkovskys · 4 months

Note

Jamie’s girlfriend packs snacks for Leo on roadtrips. She knows that they have snacks on the trip but I feel like she’ll pack him. little swedish snack for a taste of home away from home and she’ll leave him a note. The boys are like “Jamie what’d you get?” and it’s the basic chips or gummies with an “i love you please don’t end up on IR again.”

she definitely packs him tupperware containers (plural) full of swedish snacks she’s learned how to make for him. he’s so excited to come home from practice one day to find the house smelling like his favorite dessert and she had made it basically perfect? of course swedish cuisine gets brought into the drysdale house and she keeps a running list in her notes app of everything leo misses from home and marks it off as she makes it, then as she perfects it.

leo pulls out one of his containers on the flight to new york and he’s munching down on a piece of cake when troy calls out from across the aisle, “what’d the missus pack for you, jamie?”

with an almost annoyed expression on his face, jamie pulls out a single packet of fruit snacks from the pocket of his suit jacket and lets them fall onto the tray. the laughter that feels the cabin and the smug smile on leo’s lips has jamie grumbling not very nice words about his teammates.

#jamie drysdale #the drysdales x leo

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misshoneyimhome · 4 months

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William would be the type to call the intern his good girl while he rails her in front of a bathroom mirror at a team event. He is not even covering her mouth or putting his fingers between her lips to keep her quiet because he wants people to know how good he fucks you based on how some of the comments from his teammates were made before they got together officially. Even though it would be hot for him to her to suck on his fingers.

Happy Willy-finally-signing-the-contract day! 🥂🥳

Okay, so I know this has been on a waiting list for a little while, but I had to have it make sense for me - sorry 🙈 But it's finally here, and I just hope that it's turned out to be as good as expected 🤞🏻🤍

Also, this was paired with another ask 💙

[And thank you so much for the 2️⃣0️⃣0️⃣ followers 🙏🏼]

Anyways;

Warnings; actually only unprotected sex (p in v) - I'm losing my touch here; and of course public spacing;

Word count; 4.4K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

I feel your love, and I feel it burn pt || I William Nylander🖋️⚡️ [intern x willy]

After 3 minutes and 56 seconds.

That's when Gaudreau managed to score with a backhand shot, guiding the puck into the net and securing the overtime win for the Blue Jackets. Which also meant another loss for the Leafs.

Tonight, the game had been really intense, and on the positive note, most players felt they'd given their all. But despite this, the players still made their way to the tour bus with heads down, and there wasn't much conversation, just a few encouraging words from Coach Keefe in the locker room following the match. And during the bus ride, all the lads had their headphones in, enjoying the comfort of silence.

But as they arrived at the plane, the tense atmosphere started to fade away, and soft cheers filled the aircraft as players began chatting about the upcoming New Year's event. Only a game against the Hurricanes was scheduled for the next day, but the talk still shifted to the festivities for the New Year's party.

And you couldn't help but smile as you listened to the lads' excitement about the event, which you and a few others from the team had organised. You’d gone all out with decorations, making the most of your event planning skills, creating an amazing atmosphere for the team to enjoy, along with their partners and families, to welcome the new year. And the menu was carefully chosen after coordinating with the venue's hosts to ensure everything would be perfect.

It made you even happier to hear how excited the players were, discussing the outfits their partners had planned for them and their hairdresser appointments, among other things.

However, your relaxed state of mind was suddenly interrupted by Auston and Mitch, who came to occupy the empty seats in front of you. After the match, feeling rather tired, you sought some quiet space a few feet away from the noisy players. But that didn't suit the two forwards. Instead, they needed your full attention.

"Hey, Twiddly dee and Tweedle dum, what's up?" you chuckled lightly as the two lads stared intensely at you, sporting mischievous smiles on their handsome faces.

"Well," Auston chuckled, "We were just thinking..."

"Oh, watch out there, Auston, we don’t want you to get a sudden headache," you teased, earning an eye roll from the man in front of you. "What were you thinking?"

"Well, since your date with Jared didn't quite pan out," Mitch chimed in with a soft smile, "We were just wondering who you'd bring as your date for the New Year's team event?"

His question caught you off guard. Not because it was an unusual question coming from the two boys, but simply because you hadn't given it any thought. You were supposed to bring a date?

Well, of course, you were. The whole event allowed plus ones, and you should have known that, considering you were part of the planning team.

But you didn't want to bring a date. You couldn't. Because the guy you were dating would already be there. William Nylander, the Swedish player wearing number 88.

However, the team didn't know that. At least, you didn't think so. Your relationship with William was meant to be a secret. Yet, a small part of you feared that perhaps some of the players already knew or had an inkling. You and William had never been entirely subtle about your friendship right from the start, since you'd always been close and engaged in playful banter. But now that you were romantically involved, you knew you had to tone it down a bit.

And as much as you wanted to spill the beans that William was your secret date for the event, you instead flashed them a bright smile and feigned a light laugh.

"Who said I was planning on bringing anyone?" you tried to sound as casual as possible.

"Wait, so you're not bringing anyone?" Mitch asked, looking slightly surprised.

And you simply shook your head with a warm smile. "Nah... I'm not really feeling it. Besides, I'm kind of working, I guess. So, I'll just make sure you guys have a good time."

"So, you're not planning to introduce whoever you're seeing right now?" Auston added with a smirk, causing your eyes to widen slightly in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, trying your best to stay composed.

"Come on, as if we haven't noticed those hickeys on your neck, y/n," the Scottsdale lad grinned, pointing to the scarf you'd been wearing for the past few days.

Shit, you thought. William, who just had to leave marks, and now the boys had spotted them, which you knew they inevitably would. But you attempted to deflect their observation with a smile.

"Just because I've got hickeys doesn't mean I'm seeing anyone... at least not anyone I'd let you guys scare away at New Year's. That's what Easter is for," you casually joked, trying to lighten the slight tension.

And it appeared that your response was almost good enough for them, despite their questioning looks as if their minds were racing at full speed.

"Fair point," Mitch chuckled lightly.

However, just as they were about to return to their seats, Auston leaned in gently and whispered softly in your ear.

"I really hope that Willy approves of this guy..."

His low voice sent a shiver down your spine. Why would he say something like that?

"I don't know what you mean, Aus... Willy's just a good friend," you flashed him a sweet smile.

"Oh, I think we both know there's more than friendship on your mind," he gave you a cheeky wink before strolling back to his seat, joining the conversation casually.

You had to suppress your reaction, clenching your jaw to keep your composure when Auston more than hinted at your feelings for William. But it seemed like mere teasing, and the boys didn't actually know anything, you thought.

And truly, they didn't.

Only Calle was in the loop, as William had confided in him a few days ago. But as for Mitch and Auston? It was all just guesswork.

Speculations that had been floating around for a while, mainly because everyone was aware of William's crush on you. Furthermore, it was rather obvious to anyone paying attention how the two of you exchanged meaningful glances across the room.

Yet, they remained unaware of your relationship. They probably didn't even suspect that you and William had been sleeping together for months. Still, this lack of knowledge didn't stop them from pushing Willy to make a move on you.

To them, your connection was simply adorable and amusing. They'd never seen William so into a girl, at least not on an emotional level. So, for a while now, they'd been brainstorming ways to subtly bring the two of you closer. Just to test the waters.

Even before you and William had shared your first kiss, they’d occasionally made deliberate exits from the room at the same time, creating space for you to be alone with William. Or they'd linger outside a room, ensuring that William ended up being in close proximity to you.

However, this time was different.

They could sense that there was more than just friendly banter happening between you two, so they decided to take their efforts further.

And the result?

Mitch had asked Stephanie to assist, getting her to invite you for a coffee meet up on the 30th before the match, while Auston had made plans with William to take the dogs for a walk.

And as silly as their plan might have sounded, it led to you sitting alone in the coffee house after Stephanie texted you at the last minute, claiming she was tied up, and in walked William. Of course, Auston had bailed on him just before their supposed coffee walk.

You couldn't help but burst into heartfelt laughter as you realised what was going on. Seeing each other instead of the people you were meant to meet made it apparent that your friends were up to something.

"God, they really tried to set us up, didn't they?" you chuckled as William joined you at the table with a coffee.

"I suppose they did," he grinned widely. "But the joke's on them, I guess."

"Yeah, well... it kinda already would be, but there's no need to let them in on that," you smiled as you enjoyed your warm drink.

"Fair point... but I'll catch you later?" William smiled, knowing he had to return to his waiting dogs outside.

"Yup, as always," you whispered softly, your eyes fixed on him as he left the coffee shop, watching the man your heart deeply desired for as long as possible.

And not many hours passed before you were back at the Scotiabank Arena, greeting each player as they walked by, getting everything ready in the locker room, setting up their equipment, and preparing for the media's arrival.

Everything unfolded smoothly as usual. The media naturally quizzed William about his contract before shifting their focus to the night's game strategies. And then the players went through their warm-ups in preparation for the match against the Hurricanes.

However, unfortunately, it ended in yet another loss for the team. Their former teammate Bunting scored the opening goal for Carolina, and despite the Leafs' valiant efforts to stage a comeback, Aho had already sealed the match.

It was another evening in the hallway, filled with encouraging and uplifting words from management and families to ensure the players didn't lose all faith in themselves.

So, after ensuring everything was settled for the night, you found your boyfriend still in the locker room, almost done.

"Hey," you spoke softly, quickly making sure you were alone.

"Hey babe," he met your sweet smile as you slowly approached.

It wasn't easy to maintain distance between you two. Right now, all you wanted was to throw caution to the wind and shower him with affectionate words, just like all the other wives and girlfriends did with their partners.

Your gazes were fixed on each other as you slowly moved closer. You licked your lips in a seductive manner, considering the sensation of his lips on yours, as you allowed yourself to succumb to his embrace, feeling his body against yours.

There was an undeniable magnetic pull drawing you together, despite all rational thoughts advising against it. Yet, the attraction was overpowering. And before long, you found your hands resting gently on William's chest, while his hands delicately tangled in the back of your hair, drawing you in for a tender kiss.

It was gentle and affectionate, a romantic moment shared as you both tried not to be overwhelmed by the chemistry between you.

But it wasn't simple.

William had to muster the will to pull away, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around you, engage in a passionate kiss, and yield to the temptation of pressing you against the wall and fucking you right then and there.

So, releasing a soft sigh, he gazed down at you with a tender expression.

"Please don't tell me you're bringing a date tomorrow night..."

His words caught you off guard. Why would he even consider that possibility?

But it wasn't entirely without reason. For weeks leading up to the team event, the players had been discussing who the single ones would bring as their dates. When asked, William had casually laughed it off with a laid-back remark like 'maybe just someone I've hooked up with once' or 'I'm not bringing anyone, I'm too focused on hockey to have time to find a date'.

And these responses prompted Auston and Mitch to set him up with someone, hoping to see if there was anything between you two. But their matchmaking attempt seemed to have failed. At least, that's what you believed.

Looking up at the man in front of you with a gentle smile, you did your best to reassure him with a slight shake of your head.

"Don't worry, I only care about being in the same room as you, Willy."

And your soft words appeared to calm William's nerves a bit.

"Good," he simply said before pulling you in for another kiss, this time with a hint of more intensity as both of you leaned into it a bit more, unable to resist, and convinced that no one else was around.

As your tongues intertwined and William's hands drew you closer, your hands trailed up around his neck. But your intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a loud exclamation. Startled, you turned around with wide eyes.

"YES! Fucking knew it!" Auston almost shouted as he and Mitch barged into the locker room, catching sight of you and William kissing. The two boys had decided to double back and check on their friend, still suspecting something mysterious was happening, and they were thrilled about what they found.

"Shit..." you muttered softly as you reluctantly pulled away a bit.

"Oh, don't let us interrupt, lovebirds..." Auston teased, waggling his eyebrows as he confidently stood at the entrance, with Mitch next to him, both sharing equally smug smirks.

"Come on, guys..." William attempted a casual chuckle, rubbing his hand on his neck, realising he had been caught out for real this time.

"Hey, no worries... your secret's safe with us," Mitch chuckled softly, raising his hands in a playful defence. "Well, it would be if everyone on the team didn't already know..."

"What?" you exclaimed, taken aback.

"Yeah, we've all sort of assumed for a while—just needed confirmation," Auston interjected with another assured chuckle. "And now we've got it!" he added before the two lads shook their heads and made their exit, leaving behind a few cheeky remarks.

"Remember to use protection!"

"And get some rest before the big event tomorrow."

You couldn't wrap your head around it. Did everyone really know about you and William?

Remaining still in the locker room, you turned to face William once more, a soft smile gradually spreading across your lips as the realisation of what had just occurred sank in.

"Well, fuck..." you chuckled softly.

"Yeah..." William smiled, his hands gently finding your hips as he pulled you closer to him. "The good thing now is that I won't have to sneak a kiss from you in the dark of the wardrobe tomorrow night," he whispered softly.

And you couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a sense of reassurance that the team knew about your relationship. Now, your main concern was only the managers.

"I suppose that's a relief," you chuckled lightly, planting another soft kiss on William's lips. However, you quickly separated once more upon hearing footsteps in the hallway, realising that the staff was finishing up, and it was time to leave the arena soon.

So, swiftly, you made your way out, calling it a night for the work.

And as had been the case many times before, you spent the night at William's condo. Gradually, it had become the place where you spent most of your time together, partly because you knew he wanted to be with his dogs, whom you also adored. Yet truth be told, William's place was just much nicer than yours. Despite the quirky art he'd decorated it with, his condo was spacious, well-appointed with stylish interior decor, and overall, just much better than yours.

So, what you opted to do was take advantage of his wonderful shower after gathering your outfit and essentials for hair and makeup. Meanwhile, William was casually enjoying some gaming time with the team before tonight’s event.

And before you knew it, both of you were dressed to the nines, getting ready to head out for the party, appearing just like a genuine couple.

"Oh, hell no," William chuckled, his mouth forming an 'O' as his eyes stared intensely at you.

"What?" you asked, slightly puzzled by his reaction.

"You can't wear that..."

His eyes scanned your figure, taking in the sight of the long, sleek black satin dress that snugly hugged your curves, boasting a slit running up your right leg, almost reaching to expose the skin on your hip. The dress had a plunging v-neck with thin straps, accentuating your chest.

"Of course, I can, babe," you softly chuckled as you approached him, your arms gently encircling his neck as you walked into his embrace, where his hands found your waist. "Remember, it's all for you..."

Your soft, seductive voice made William lean into your touch, and you shared a deep kiss, both of you striving not to mess up your styles, before reluctantly parting, taking a deep breath, and then heading to the event.

However, your choice of dress turned out to be more of a tease than you anticipated.

The way you carried yourself so elegantly drew attention from all corners of the venue. Girlfriends and wives complimented how stunning you looked with your hair and makeup done to perfection, and even a few managers offered polite remarks about your appearance in their utmost professional manner as you entered.

It was almost a form of exquisite torment being separated during dinner – you seated with the managers and employees, and naturally, William with his teammates. Even after dinner, you had to maintain your distance as you conversed with your colleagues, discussing your career goals and the outstanding progress of your internship.

Where somewhere along the way, you found yourself engaged with one of the players.

Yet, despite attempting to remain professional and composed throughout the evening, you couldn't resist exchanging glances with William. Your gazes piercing through the air as both of you observed each other engaging in different conversations. And the anticipation only heightened when, gradually, one by one, the managers and families with children began leaving the event, leaving the players and their partners without children behind to continue the party.

It was almost too good to be true.

You could finally express your longing for the man you desired in a nearly open setting among the team and their partners.

And as the clock struck midnight, William drew you in for a tender yet passionate kiss. It was a moment to openly share the deep feelings that had developed over the past few months, feelings that could now be openly displayed, at least for the night. The dynamics might change upon returning to work, but that concern was set aside for the time being.

For the moment, you relished in the ability to wrap your arms around each other, share laughter and jokes with the others, and simply revel in the party atmosphere.

It was all so magical.

Yet, despite the wonderful feeling of being openly affectionate as a couple, the desire within William was reaching a boiling point.

Your appearance tonight had stirred a longing in him, a yearning to touch you, to feel your body against his, and to reach the peak of pleasure together.

However, it seemed like you had no intentions of leaving the event anytime soon. You were engrossed in conversations when you weren't enticingly flaunting your curves on the dance floor.

And it was becoming overwhelming for him to watch.

You looked incredibly stunning and sexy, and William felt a sudden urge to let you know just how amazing you were – and make you feel more than just good.

So, as you returned from your dance with some of the girls, William sneakily entwined his fingers with yours, gently leading you towards the hallway.

“Willy…” you giggled, following along. “What's going on?”

But he remained silent.

Instead, he simply guided you towards one of the restrooms, not caring to whether it was designated for gents or ladies.

And with a mischievous grin, he pulled you inside, pressing you against the door, and his lips fervently meeting yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

It wasn't forceful, but it was passionate and urgent, and William had no intention of holding back or waiting until you got home.

“Willy,” you gasped between kisses, but there was no room for conversation. His hands explored your body, his lips trailing along your neck, urging you to lean back against the door, granting him better access to your sensitive skin.

You could already feel the heat and anticipation between your legs, throbbing as you thought about the pleasure of his touch. Despite knowing that his teammates were just on the other side of the door and could easily hear you, you couldn't resist surrendering to him completely.

“Please, baby,” William murmured softly against your neck. “I need you…”

His deep and husky voice effortlessly persuaded you as he seductively guided your weakened body to lean against the counter, your hands supporting you while your face was right in front of the mirror with William positioned behind you.

Your eyes locked in an intense gaze through the mirror's reflection as his hands explored the curves of your ass, gliding under the slit on your thigh, skilfully manoeuvring the fabric upwards to reveal your cheeks for him.

"You look so incredible, baby," he moaned deeply, his hands caressing your rear, teasing the edge of your thong before gradually pulling it down to pool around your ankles. "Be good for me."

Your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts as he spoke to you in that seductive tone, slowly unbuckling his belt, and letting his dress trousers fall to expose his naked form underneath. Naturally, he wasn't wearing any underwear; it would only be discarded anyway.

And as you followed his every move intently, you suddenly felt his thick fingers stroking up your inner thigh, teasingly trailing through your folds, and gently massaging your sensitive flesh.

"Willy," you moaned softly, thoroughly enjoying his touch as he delicately pressed against your entrance before slowly inserting two fingers, stretching your walls while stimulating them.

"Yeah, that's it, baby, let those moans out, show me you're a good girl," his smug face appeared in the mirror before you. Just keeping your eyes open became challenging as waves of pleasure washed over you.

And William as well, was a tad eager himself.

So, instead of his usual routine of providing you a climax before his own pleasure, he felt the urge to tend to his already firm member, proudly standing between your bodies.

So, slowly retracting his fingers, he delicately positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance, ensuring your comfort before easing himself into your core.

“Fuck, Willy!” you exclaimed breathlessly, momentarily forgetting the presence of people outside.

But William, content with your uncontrollable moans, simply gradually moved his hips, the intensity overwhelming for both of you, as you shared such an intimate moment outside the confines of your homes. It felt exhilarating.

In fact, it felt more than just good.

As William rocked his hips, letting his cock stimulate your walls as you coated his length with your juices, he wrapped an arm around your body, holding you close to him as he rocked his hips and began pounding into you.

It was intimate yet rough and dirty. You dress was a complete mess as the man behind you thrusted passionately, making you both warm and sweaty with every moan, filling the air with raw sex noises.

“Yes, Willy,” you panted as you felt the sense of pleasure fill your every cell. Your rational mind long gone as he kept hitting your depth, and you felt the build-up of an orgasm.

“Yes, you’re such a good girl for me… letting me fuck you like this,” he praised you with a deep, rough voice, feeling his own climax coming in with each hard thrust.

Words and moans escaped you both as if no one was around. William didn’t bother to try and cover your both as louder sounds came out and you were unable to hold back.

Thoughts of sticking his fingers into your sweet mouth in order to keep you silent lingered his mind, but they were quickly brushed off as he enjoyed your noises too much.

And before long, you felt your legs tremble beneath you. Your body about to go completely numb as your climax was soon to peak and you couldn’t’ see straight any more. The image of William in the mirror began blurry, and without any form of control you tried to warn him. Clenching your walls as your moaned out loudly how you were about to come.

“Yes, come for me,” William encouraged amidst loud sounds of skin slapping together, his hand forcefully holding onto your breast as he continued pounding, aiming to push you over the brim.

“Fuck Willy!” you let out a loud moan, as you let the rush course over your body, feeling how your cunt almost sprayed with essence and your legs turning into jelly under him.

And your squirming under him mad William follow suit, sooner than he anticipated as your tightening around his cock send him over as well, letting himself coat your walls with his cum, filling you up completely as his body almost collapsed onto yours.

Moans slowly silenced, only heavy breaths leaving your bodies as you both gasped for air to refill your lungs.

It was an intense orgasm of a kind.

A build up thrill that had been released, and it took more than a minutes before William had the strength to pull apart from you.

“Shit…” you softly panted as you slowly came back to reality, realising just where you were and what you’d done.

Everyone could have heard you. Being aware of what you’d been doing.

But William was merely satisfied, flashing a big grin as he pulled up his trousers.

“What ‘s with the smug face, Nylander?” you flashed him a cocked eyebrow in the mirror.

“Nothing,” he simply chuckled. “I’m just letting everyone know what exactly we are…”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. This boy was just too much. But god, how much you adored him.

As cheeky and smug he was, just as equally sweet and caring he could be.

“Guess, we’ll have to return to the party…” you flashed him a slightly concerned smile.

“Guess we do,” William spoke softly, before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, followed by him bending down, prompting you to step out of your underwear, and tucked them into his pocket. “My souvenir for the night,” he smiled, before you both returned more than satisfied to the event.

#my asks #intern x willy #18+#william nylander imagine #wn88 imagine #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl smut

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cowpokeomens · 8 months

Text

Little One

Pairing: Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI WITH THIS!!! Anyways, we got some smut, some vaginal fingering, p in v, blowjobs, praise kink, cute pet names, lots of kissing, lots of me being h-word, enjoy folks

He’s staring.

You can feel him staring.

Part of you wonders why the others haven’t made fun of him yet- they jump at the opportunity to clown on each other, scoff when someone is being “soft.” You hadn’t risked a glance in a long time to judge the nature of the stare- was it soft? If not, what was it? Surely you aren’t the only one aware of the stare to begin with?

You do your best not to wriggle around where you sit on the floor, cuffing your sweats one more time out of nervousness. They were from some super-secret-elite-mega-ultra-exclusive merch drop, and Noah had insisted on you needing a pair, because “Who the fuck doesn’t own a single pair of sweats?” They were as comfortable as described, if not a bit long. Such was the case when clothing was designed by giants, you reckoned.

“Lillis.” You heard a Swedish murmur, knowing the name was directed at you. You remembered the first time you had heard it, had corrected him with a polite, “Oh, that’s not my name.” You remembered his shy smile as he said he knew. You had never gotten around to asking him to translate, worried it meant “donkey shit” and would ruin the maladaptive daydream in your head wherein he wanted you back and-

Stop, you thought to yourself. We don’t go there.

You finally raised your eyes to his, dark and thoughtful and all-consuming; eyes that had been trained on you for at least half an hour. “Hm?” Was your dazzling response.

He gave you a sweet smile, barely there. “Everyone said they were going to grab food for dinner, were you going to tag along or slum it with me here until they get back?” He leaned in conspiratorially, stage-whispering, “If you stay, we can warm up in Mario Kart and dethrone Noah.”

“As if.” Came a scoff from the kitchen, where the man in question was slipping on a pair of slides.

“New plan: You have to stay, because I’m tired of his arrogance.” Nicholas chimed in matter-of-factly, tugging on a pair of worn-out sneakers.

A debate broke out between them, Nick serving as instigator to both sides as Noah listed all the reasons why he was “so damn good” at the racing game. You felt a tap on your shoulder.

He was closer now, too close for you to hide your sharp intake of breath at his proximity. “So you’re going to tag along with those goofballs?” Jolly gave you a knowing look, as if he already knew the answer. No doubt it was evident on your face.

You returned his smile. “I think I’ll sit that one out, thanks.” Then, raising your voice slightly to be heard over the kerfuffle in the kitchen, “Y’all go ahead, I’ll hang back here.”

Nicholas hid a smile poorly, Noah outright rolled his eyes. “Figures. Text us your order, don’t do anything nasty on the couch-” He was cut off with a loud smack, voice trailing down the hallway as the group hastily exited. “Ow, fuck. What? It’s true! He’s been staring-”

You could feel your cheeks warming up as his words grew fainter. Jolly seemed unbothered, already setting up the Nintendo Switch controllers, handing you your signature purple.

“So, unfortunately, I don’t know if we’ll actually be able to dethrone the king tonight. You know how much I suck at Mario Kart- and I haven’t played in months probably.” You admit sheepishly.

Jolly huffed a laugh at your confession, coming over to sit beside you- so close that your outstretched legs were bumping against each other. You could smell the shampoo he used that morning, cologne coming off him in soft waves, the scent of amber and tonka bean mixing with something else that was heady and dark. You wanted to burrow your face into the smell and fall asleep.

“Fear not, älskling, we can sharpen your skills in no time.” He made quick work of adjusting the settings, then turned to you suddenly. “C’mere.”

You blinked. “I am here?”

He huffed another laugh, then motioned to the ground between his legs. “No, like, here. Come sit, I can’t help you from all the way over there.”

Your face was scarlet, you knew it. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, but you nodded and got up anyways, shuffling over to settle yourself between his long legs. Your back was rod-straight, afraid of what it might feel like to relax against his chest. His arms came up and around you, making you feel small in comparison as he placed his hands atop yours on the controller. His hair tickled your arm as he leaned forward, chin resting at the juncture of your shoulder and neck. You reminded yourself to breathe.

“Okay, so the first thing we’re going to do is customize the car. What character do you want?”

“Peach.” You replied automatically, not giving it a thought.

You could feel his smile. “Princess for the princess, sounds good.” He selected the little blonde character, the screen shifting to a selection of bikes, wheels, and gliders. “So if you press this button, it’ll show you the stats for each option. You can go for speed, but keep in mind that it can be harder to turn…” He continued on as you found yourself relaxing into the lull of his voice, nodding at the appropriate times, letting his fingers guide you across the screen. Your shoulders slumped a bit, back coming to rest against his chest every so slightly, the soft material of his sweatshirt cushioning you.

“... did you get any of that?”

“Hm?” You straightened a bit, more alert now. “Oh- uh, yeah. I want the little pink sportscar- with the stripes on it.”

“That one has the lowest speed, älskling.” You could hear him fighting back a laugh.

“The stripes will make me faster.” You argued. “And what is an ‘L-sling?’ Will it make me go faster, too?”

He couldn’t hold back his laugh now, shoulders curving forward to bump against you gently with the action. “Älskling, not ‘L-sling,’ lillis.”

You sighed, exasperated. “What does that even mean? It’s no fair, I don’t even know what you’re saying! Is it mean?” He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “Oh my god, it’s totally mean, I changed my mind I don’t want to know-”

“Baby.” You froze at the word. He had set down the controller, hand sitting lightly on your thigh. Your skin was seared where his fingertips grazed. “They’re not bad words, they’re just-” He stopped with a soft sigh.

You decided to be brave, turning around so you could see his face. You sat back on your heels, looking at him expectantly, patiently.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said at last.

You looked down, cheeks flushing, fingers toying with each other. One of his hands reached out to grab yours, stilling their movement. You took a deep breath. “Okay, trade.”

He cocked his head, confused. “Trade?”

You nodded. “Mhm. You tell me what ‘lillis’ means, and I’ll tell you something too.”

He thought about it. “Do I get to pick what you tell me?”

You furrowed your brows despite yourself. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair. Now go.”

A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. “Lillis is like, ‘little one,’ I guess would be the closest translation.” He looked sheepish for a moment, continuing, “It’s, uh, well- it’s kind of like baby talk?”

“You’re calling me a little baby?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed now, shattering the tension of the moment. “No, I’m calling you little. In the tone that you’d use with a baby. It’s-”

“I am not little!” You objected indignantly.

He gave you a simpering look. You frowned. He continued on, “It’s a term of endearment. Now,” both of his hands came to rest on the tops of your thighs. “You tell me something- something you would never, ever tell me otherwise.”

A million ideas flashed through your mind, ranging from domestic scenes of cooking dinner to carnal desires that you only indulged yourself in when you were at home, in your bed, very alone. Your face heated up, whether from shame or arousal you weren’t sure. Now wasn’t the time for it anyways.

“I can see you overthinking, älskling. Spill it.” He ducked his head down to look into your eyes, and you found yourself unable to stop your mouth from opening.

“The first time I saw you I wanted to kiss you.” You blurted, jaw snapping shut, as if the force would somehow form a vacuum that could suck all the words back in.

He was grinning, a devilish thing that was entirely too smug and self-satisfied given the circumstances. “Oh yeah?”

“Shut up.” You grumbled, unable to formulate a witty response.

He leaned closer, hands resting on the outer curve of your thigh, gripping slightly. “And now?”

“Now what?” You countered, unsure of what he was saying.

A smile lingered on his lips, the way wildflowers linger in the early days of autumn. You realized too late that he was too close again. “Do you still want to kiss me now?”

You swallowed once, breaths ragged. Finally, you nodded.

Another grin. “Then ask nicely.”

Your mouth dropped open, taken aback. “‘Ask nicely?’” You repeated, rage bubbling up to the surface. “You should ask nicely! You’re the one staring at me today! Big, dumb, Swedish-”

You were cut off as his lips crashed into yours, one hand leaving your thigh to grab your jaw, the other coming up to your back to pull you against him. You melted into the feeling, your hands finding their way to his face.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured against your lips, in between kisses. “My pretty girl.” His tongue came out to trace your bottom lip, catching it in his teeth and tugging on it. The groan you let out was entirely involuntary, legs scrambling up so you could settle in his lap. He bit your lip again, and your hips flexed into him, grinding down.

“Älskling, we don’t have to do anything-” He mumbled around your mouth, hands pulling you impossibly closer.

“We don’t,” You agreed, then continued, “But if it’s all the same to you, I have a lot of ideas filed under ‘things I would never, ever tell you-’”

You could feel his grin in the kiss, large hands coming down to grip at your ass, kneading the flesh there. You whimpered, hands gripping at his shoulders.

“Not here.” He finally broke away to pant. “Not the couch.”

The giggle that escaped you was almost delirious, the shock that this was really happening coursing through your body. He stood, pulling you up with him, guiding you both to his room.

“Oh, we’re gonna have weird, nasty sex.” You sang gleefully.

He laughed loudly at your antics, finally reaching his room, where he shut and locked the door quickly. You backed up slowly, until the backs of your legs hit the bed. He turned to look at you then, pupils blown wide with lust. He was in front of you in two quick strides, hands resting on your hips.

“Tell me.” He demanded, tone not in the least bit demanding. “Tell me the ideas you have.”

You gulped, suddenly shy again. “Um…”

“Trade?” He prompted. His hands had made their way under your shirt, rubbing at the bare skin of your back.

You nodded, happier with the agreement. “Um, well.”

A thought popped in your head, one of the more profane on your list of fantasies. It must have reflected on your face, because Jolly’s next words were: “Tell me.”

You blushed for the millionth time that night. But, a deal was a deal. “Remember when I flew out to visit y’all in Texas? The hotel with the balconies?”

A wicked grin spread on his face, following your line of thought. “Go on.”

“I thought- I thought about you. About us. On the balcony.” You stammered.

“A bit more detail, baby.” He pushed gently.

Bolstering your courage, you continued. “I thought about what- what it would feel like, to have you bend me over the railing and do what you wanted with me. I thought-” You took a shaky breath. “Thought about the people who might have seen me- seen us and known that I was yours.”

His grip was tight on you now as he pushed you back onto the bed. “Thank you for sharing. Want to know what I was thinking about that night, in the next room?”

You nodded too fast, desperate. It didn’t go unnoticed by him.

He was hovering over you now, nose tracing the column of your neck. “I could hear you, y’know.” You froze. “Heard you moaning and whimpering. I thought about what it would be like to be able to spread you out and have my way with you. What kind of sounds you’d make, how long it would take for you to start shaking for me. How long it would take for you to fall apart for me.” His hands were under your shirt, holding your ribcage, thumbs playing the underside of your breasts. “I came twice before my cock finally softened enough for me to sleep.”

“Joakim.” You whimpered wantonly, lust clawing at your senses.

“There she is.” He answered softly. “The girl in the room next to mine. She kept saying my name, too- moaned it every time she came. Think you can do that again, pretty girl?” You nodded desperately. “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes.” You gasped. “Whatever you want Joakim, I can do it.”

He pulled you into another deep kiss. “If you want to stop at any point, we can, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good girl. Take off your clothes.” He instructed, standing up to watch you.

You all but ripped off your shirt, tossing it to some corner of the room, your sweatpants following shortly after. You didn’t give a thought to your undergarments until Jolly said “Nice panties.”

A glance down reminded you that your underwear had a gingerbread man emblazoned on the front of them, remnants of an impulse purchase last Christmas. “Shut up- I’m doing laundry tomorrow.” You couldn’t suppress a grin, though.

He crawled back onto the bed, kissing you deeply as soon as he was close enough. He leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking at it until it had hardened. You arched into his touch as he moved his focus to the other one, teeth just barely grazing the skin. Finally, you pawed at his sweatshirt. “You too- off, off.”

You broke the kiss long enough for him to tug the article over his head, hair going in every direction. Your hands came down to tug at his pants, boxers doing nothing to conceal the bulge he was sporting. You tried stroking it through the material, but he swatted your hands away. “You first.” His tone was final.

He pushed you back slowly, until he was fully on top of you, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist. His hips ground into you experimentally, a groan leaving his mouth.

“Please,” You whimpered. “Joakim, please, I need something.”

“I know, pretty girl, so patient for me.” He soothed you as he snaked a hand between your bodies, running his middle finger along your slit. You moaned pitifully at the contact, arching into his touch.

“You are so fucking wet, baby, holy shit-” His finger dipped deeper this time, running over your soaked hole lightly.

“Stop teasing.” You demanded.

He gave you a grin. “If I was teasing you, you’d be crying.”

He thrust two fingers inside you before you could muster a response, curling them up in such a way that made your legs fully extend, toes flexing. He set a slow pace, languidly curling his fingers into you at different angles until he hit a spot that made you gasp.

“There?” He questioned.

“There, there, there, fuck, baby-” Your fingers dug into his shoulders, leveraging yourself as you ground into his hand.

“That’s a good girl, take what you need.” His words were soft in your ear, the praise making you flush as his fingers continued to work that bundle of nerves inside you.

“Fuck, Joakim, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” Your voice broke off into staccato moans as he coaxed you through your orgasm, legs flailing uselessly against his sheets.

You panted as he slipped his fingers out of you, tugging at your underwear until you were bare for him. He nudged your legs apart, confusing you as he dropped down to eye level with your soaked core.

“What are you- fuck.” Your question was abruptly cut off by his tongue on your clit, lapping at the bud like candy. Your back arched off the bed as he worked his way down to your hole, tongue spearing in and out while his thumb continued to work your clit. You hands tangled into the roots of his hair, hips canting up desperately as you fucked back into his face.

Your second orgasm reached you twice as quickly as the first one. “Joakim- I- I can’t-” Guttural moans escaped you as you fell over the precipice yet again, legs quivering as he continued to lap at you until you had come down.

Your breaths came raggedly as you shoved your hair out of your face, sweat collecting on your forehead. Jolly came up to look at you, your slick coating him from nose to chin. You pulled him in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, your head flopping back onto the mattress as he backed away.

“You done?” He prodded, sounding unsure.

“Absolutely not, if you don’t put your dick in me I will die, Joakim Karlsson-” You couldn’t finish your thought as you both dissolved into giggles. Finally you sat up, crawling over to hover on top of him. “My turn.”

You made quick work of his boxers, resolutely not letting yourself linger on the wet patch that could be seen on the front. His cock sprung free, and you tried your best not to salivate- failing miserably. “God, it’s prettier than I ever imagined.” You whispered, wonder in your voice. Joakim laughed at you again, hands coming up to cover his face. Pretty it was. A cherry red tip mocked you, capping off a sizable length, veins protruding down the underside. Dark curls nestled around the base, not a full bush, but far from bare. You wanted it in your mouth, nay- in your esophagus.

You didn’t realize you had voiced your thought out loud until Jolly roared with laughter, head thrown back as he cackled. You pouted until he caught your expression, laughter dying down to a smile. “By all means, don’t let me stop you from achieving your dreams.” He gestured to himself.

You sniffed haughtily, grabbing the girth and giving it a few experimental strokes. A soft sigh left the man’s mouth at your movements, body relaxing into the bed. You leaned forward enough to pop the tip into your mouth, suckling softly. A hand came up to pet your hair, a light grip settling in your roots. You took more of him, breathing deeply through your nose as your mouth worked its way down his shaft, pulling back slowly. You pushed yourself down again, until your nose was tickled by the curly hairs you saw earlier.

“Fuck, baby, so good for me…” Jolly’s eyes were glued to you as you slid off, taking him deeply again, repeating the actions until his grip in your hair had tightened. You found a rhythm quickly, spit dripping down your chin as you worked him.

“Älskling, I don’t want to cum like this-” His words made you slow until you slipped off with a loud pop. He sighed at the loss. “One day- when I have a whole lot more self control than I do now- I’m gonna fuck your face until my cum leaks out of the sides of your mouth.”

Your brain went foggy at such a prospect, unable to form a coherent sentence. He huffed a laugh at your expression, flipping you both over so that you were back underneath him. One hand shot out to his bedside table, rummaging around until he procured a condom. He tore it open with his teeth, sliding it on with practiced hands.

“You ready?” He checked one last time.

“Yes, please, come on-” Your sentence broke off with a gasp as he entered you slowly, your already-sensitive hole stretching to accommodate his size. He gave you a few shallow thrusts, slowly working you open. “Joakim, please, I want- I want it deep.”

You could hear his sharp intake of breath, then he all but folded you in half as your legs were pushed up to rest on his shoulders. He bottomed out in one fluid motion, a feeling that had your eyes rolling up into your skull as you hands grasped at his arms. His pace was unrelenting, unforgiving as he fucked into you. You were babbling incoherently, a mixture of moans and “fuck, Joakim” filling the air. He leaned further over, somehow pushing even deeper into you.

“Does my girl like that? Is she getting fucked deep enough?”

“I- I-” You couldn’t string together words if your life depended on it.

He placed a kiss on your jaw, an action that would have been tender had he not been fucking you so thoroughly. Your climax approached you like a freight train, until you were clawing at Jolly- arms, back, whatever you could reach. “Joakim, I’m gonna cum, I can’t-”

“Good girl, cum for me, milk my cock pretty girl.” He groaned.

That’s all it took to finish you off, back arching clean off the bed as your slick came out in spurts, legs shaking as Jolly fucked you through your third orgasm. He came shortly after, hands tightening almost painfully on your hips as his pelvis ground into you. He pulled out with a huff, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

You curled up into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. He placed a kiss on top of your head, chest heaving with labored breaths. A hand stroked your back lazily, tracing patterns, playing different imaginary notes on nonexistent frets.

Finally you spoke up. “So, what does this make us?”

“What do you want us to be?” Came his reply.

“That is such a cop-out, Jolly, come on now.” You huffed.

He shook with silent laughter. “Ideally? I’m thinking a fall wedding, maybe 3 kids, I really like the name ‘Axel,’ but I’m willing to hear your ideas too-”

You slapped his chest playfully. “I meant moreso ‘exclusive’ and ‘official.’”

“What is not ‘official’ or ‘exclusive’ about 3 beautiful children together? Is this an American thing-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off with a kiss, noses staying pressed together as you pulled away. “Since you’re being so difficult, you’re my boyfriend now, and you have no say in the matter.”

He grinned. “I guess I could learn to enjoy that.”

You were about to reply when the front door slammed shut. “Sorry guys, the taco place was stupid fucking busy, we- hey, where’d they go?” Came Noah’s voice, faint.

“You said not to do anything nasty on the couch.” Nick reminded him helpfully.

“That is disgusting- hey! If you can hear me, y’all are nasty-”

“There’s tacos whenever you kids are done!” Nicholas chimed in.

#bad omens fic #jolly karlsson smut #joakim karlsson fic #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens x reader

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homunculus-argument · 9 months

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Intelligence is a nebulous concept that can't be perfectly and exactly measured in numbers or other metrics, but there are things people generally agree as signs of at least some intellect. An ability to learn and employ new knowledge, adapting to new information, being able to notice patterns and correlations between seemingly unrelated things. Being able to adjust one's methods as needed, ability to make deductions and educated guesses based on incomplete data, being able to improvise if necessary.

And look. Don't get me wrong here. But I learned to read on my own when I was five, I literally have no memories of ever not knowing how to read. English is not my first language, I cannot officially call myself bilingual because neither of my parents was a native english speaker. I first picked it up by hearing it on TV. I could already read and speak english when I went into school, and for the rest of it I managed to get decent enough grades purely by improvising that nobody noticed that I literally never did my homework ever before I was 11. Nobody noticed that I have an attention deficit disorder before I was 27.

I learned to play the clarinet, the piano at some point, and though I lost my voice, I used to sing. If you gave me an instrument and played me a tune, I could repeat it playing by the ear. I could even write it down, note by note, if I heard it a few times and remembered it. If you gave me notes of a song I've never heard, I could whistle it from the notes.

I learned enough swedish in school to read the back of a shampoo bottle, but still enough to compare and contrast the nuance differences in the finnish, swedish and english translations of the same notifications at bus stops. I can summarise what is the unifying element between a long list of words with the same prefix or suffix, and name their mutual definition. I remember enough of the french I learned in school and spanish I learned on my own to roughly parse together portugese.

My parents met in university, but while I never made it to college, I've still made myself a career in something I never went to school for. I have no higher education in arts past high school art classes. I am a full-time professional in something I taught myself, working with a script I also wrote myself without any guidance past brief googling.

That being said, I can't read an analog clock. I've learned how to do a lot of things in my life, but that's the one thing I can't fucking do. You can show me a clock face and I won't know what it means. If I can't look at my phone and there's nothing with a digital clock available, I've learned tricks on how to get people to tell me the time without admitting that I can't read it. Like asking someone if they think the clock on the wall is on time, prompting them to look at their own clock and tell me what their clock says. Pointedly looking at the clock and remarking to people that We Have Plenty Of Time, and assessing from their reactions whether that is true or if I was sarcastic. I never learned to read a clock face, but I've learned plenty of ways to get people to read it to me.

And every single time I tell people I can't read a clock face, they start trying to explain it to me. Like look. I'm 29. You do not know any method to explain it that I would never have encountered in the past 20 years. None of them sunk. I've tried until I cried and I still can't do it. I could learn to translate poetry from french, how to put together a car engine, or how to skin a llama, but that is the one thing I cannot do. I do not know what the positions of the arrows pointing at numbers mean, and you can't make me.

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slavghoul · 1 year

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Interview from Upset Magazine 6/2023

Words: Steven Loftin

Like an apparition manifesting within a dense fog, it was through radio static that Swedish rockers Ghost were formed. In the kindergarten he attended as a young boy, Tobias Forge found himself enamoured with the music crackling through the little toy speakers. From this point forward, he began picking apart the notes and melodies - his journey toward the lore and canon coming into focus as he sat, trying to figure out how this black magic could be summoned.

While it would be many years before he would don his garb as Papa Emeritus, the essence of what his future would sound like was being set through his exposure to a wide variety of music. If any proof were needed, just look to the impressive list of covers Ghost have put their ghastly mark upon, including 2016's 'Popestar' EP, which included the band's takes on Echo & The Bunnymen ('Nocturnal Me') and Simian Mobile Disco ('I Believe').

Ghost's latest EP is another covers bonanza. A five-piece offering of Tobias's backstory, 'Phantomime' plays out like a Greatest Hits radio playlist - a fitting throwback to Tobias' first dalliances with music. Of course, when a group more aligned to the metal/hard rock community bust out covers, including Genesis and Tina Turner, eyebrows are raised. To this reaction, Tobias scoffs. "In 1991, Genesis was one of the biggest bands on the planet! That was a huge hit. In the mid-80s, when I had an older teenage brother who rented every VHS movie that came out, of course, we saw the fucking Thunderdome, and that was a huge hit, and it's still being played on Swedish radio. It's an evergreen; it's not an eclectic choice at all," he declares. "I grew up listening to Stranglers because my brother liked them. What else do we have, Iron Maiden - I mean, are you kidding? I'm a metalhead!"

Originally conceived during the sessions for their fifth album, last year's 'Impera', there were two folders on his computer's desktop: one named 'Impera', the other simply 'Covers'. As the ideas for 'Impera' grew, Tobias would enter his usual routine of working on a cover or two. "At any point, when you lose a little wind in writing your own things, it's quite nice to say, 'Today let's go in and work on the covers'; you can choose anything you want, you can work on absolutely anything you want. And you don't have to finish it, you don't have to release it, you don't have to do anything, but just continue working."

He likens it to the freedom of being a theatre owner who, instead of trying to pen the next greatest Broadway phenomenon, opts to have a go at something already timeless and perfected.

"Maybe you're like, 'Okay, so this fall we're just going to do a reinterpretation of Hamlet instead, that's going to be fine, and that keeps everyone working, and that keeps a project moving along! And I find a similar thing with working on covers. So as I was writing "Impera', the covers folder was also growing exponentially and at a point. I had this idea that was going to be a full-length album."

With COVID restrictions meaning the original producer for 'Impera' was stuck in the US, Tobias had to source a replacement. It would be Klas Åhlund who stepped up to the plate. But, on one condition. "He was pretty upfront. He was like. Yeah, I only want to make the record; I don't want to work on covers," Tobias remembers "Fine, fine, fine, that's fine." he shrugs. "So, after the 'Impera' recording was done, I felt as if making a completely different, whole record again: I didn't have time for that. I didn't have the energy for that. But once I trimmed down the number of songs to only these five to make a very rocky record, it loosened up the screws a little bit for me in terms of like, "Okay, so now I know what the EP is going to be - it's going to be a full, full-throttle rock one."

Ditching some rumoured softer covers, including U2, Misfits, and Motörhead. 'Phantomime is instead a delectable slice of Ghost doing what Ghost do best: creating theatrically big rock. It's Tobias's mark upon some bonafide classics, including Iron Maiden's 'Phantom of the Opera' which feels as befitting to Ghost as it does seeing Papa Emeritus kick the bucket ready for his next iteration. While the focus was on creating this small dose of Tobias's musical DNA, it also served another purpose; to simply be "not very complicated." The project began with the mindset of "we can make this recording loosely - quick but stress-free - as opposed to making a record which is your hard fifth record that needs to live up to certain standards. So it was just a very inspired, very simple recording, actually."

After the complexities of 'Impera' which wound up requiring two studios simultaneously running in parallel "to be able to work efficiently" - Ghost was morphing into a taxing experience for the band leader, "It was just a bigger thing [and] way more stressful."

Deciding to strip that covers folder down to the five tracks, by all accounts, 'Phantomime was a measured and reserved effort. "It ended up being me, an engineer, and an occasional musician coming in and doing something. It was so much looser, so much more mentally Feng Shui," he smiles, relief glowing in his voice. "And I think that that reflected a little bit on the two different records. They're meant to be related - they are definitely related - they were made roughly in the same time, but they're completely different things."

'Phantomime' plays out like a ghoulish social commentary. Starting with a searing rendition of Televison's 'See No Evil, the journey traverses the scourge of Televangelism (Genesis' Jesus He Knows Me') with a delightfully-fitting NSFW video, the instant gratification humans require to feel (The Stranglers' Hanging Around"); the pull back into cruel reality (Phantom Of The Opera"), and the resulting undying hope from a degraded society (Tina Turner's 'We Don't Need Another Hero"). Each offering is bolstered with Ghost's dramatic, theatric rock licks and Tobias's powerhouse vocals.

With 'Phantomime' in the bag and the European leg of the 'Impera' tour imminent (Tobias is currently holed up in preparation), the idea of reflecting on how he came to go from a young boy listening to the static sounds of pop hits on the radio to orchestrating not only a feverishly adored band and its lore but finding the capacity to embrace his inner music nerd, couldn't be more timely. Tobias's relationship with music has always been one of intrigue. He's a pop songwriter with the ambition and ideas of a stadium rock band, which, in essence, explains perfectly why Ghost can sit in a unique, exponentially growing and expanding space.

"My earliest inclination of wanting to transform into something else was definitely Twisted Sister," he recalls. "You know, "I Want To Rock' and 'We're Not Going To Take It' - that was a huge record in 1984, and in 1984, I was three years old," he says. "My brother was 16, so everything that was going on pop-culturally amongst teenagers was happening in my home."

It was thanks to his brother that much of Tobias's relationship with music was formed. He's introduced him to various giants of the time, like tectonic plates being pushed around, impacting and shaping his musical landscape. Translating for young Tobias the attitude of punk at the time, as well as everything else that was 'in', he remembers, "When I was a kid, and he was supposed to babysit me, as a pacifier he would put me in front of [Sex Pistols mockumentary film] 'The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle"," he laughs. "And then when that was over, he would just switch to [X-rated cartoon] Fritz the Cat. And I loved that stuff, of course. That was as much [about] the expression and the attitude. Of course, I loved the songs, but it was also filtered or combined with big songs for me." Those big songs ("Men At Work 'Down Under'," he initially cites, "those sort of songs still have a unique place in my in my writing") would eventually entwine with his darker side that he'd explore as he grew older. "Whilst my whole adolescence was completely in the name of extreme metal, I always had a very soft spot for Top 40 rock and pop radio always," Tobias explains. "And I've listened to that all my life. So it's almost equal portions of Venom as it is anything. that was on the radio."

Also, witnessing shock and glam-rock bands explode intrigued Tobias. He became swept away in the idea that not only could you push a boundary to its absolute limits with convictions and over-the-top grandiosity, but you could do so with songs that quantifiably bop. But, as time has gone onto prove, it wasn't pop music that enamoured Tobias enough that he wanted to become a pop star. It's the mythology and mystery that has become his calling card.

Tobias remained an enigma under the disguise of an evolving form of the iconic Papa Emeritus (now in his fourth incarnation) until 2017, after a lawsuit from a previous iteration of his backing band's rotating cast, the Nameless Ghouls. Visual and video components to releases are often hoovered up by the fandom, stripped apart for meaning and potential. Instagram posts are referred to as a '[Message From The Clergy]" (a phrase later claimed for 2022's Best Of playlist), and lest it is forgotten, the Ghost 'Grucifix' - the prominent crucifix deconstructed into Tobias's gothic 'G' logo - which ties together the vision, religious imagery and satire that would become a core part of the Ghost experience.

His musical ambition and education colliding in the middle of his Venn diagram between dark metal and pop magic is thanks to the likes of the aforementioned Twisted Sister and W.A.S.P., as well as his teen years in the black metal community. "Their first record was also a huge impact in Swedish media," Tobias remembers. "There was this big sort of Satanic panic thing going on at the time in the fall of 1984. Where you had essentially all those things happening. You had Mötley Crüe 'Shout At The Devil', which came out a year earlier, and they were there because they toured with Iron Maiden in 1984, so there was a lot of focus on these shock-rock bands. I saw that as a kid, and I was immediately blown away - it was the coolest thing I've ever seen. And I think that that was the trigger that made me identify as that is how I want to express myself."

Decoding the songs he'd hear also became an integral part of that expression. "That was the only thing I did for years before I started writing my own songs." Recalling his time in kindergarten, they had a piano and guitar, which Tobias became infatuated with. Instead of playing with the other children, he would find himself enraptured, listening to the radio or flipping over whichever cassette happened to be loaded at the time. He would then imitate the sounds he was soaking up. "A lot of those early beginnings of how to learn and how I've learned how to understand music filters through everything I do now," he explains.

The early records he'd find himself trying to unpack included KISS 'Alive' and Pink Floyd's 'Piper At The Gates Of Dawn' - disparate matches, but undoubtedly Ghost fuel with hard rock melodies and psychedelic tendencies. "I had the first and the second Pink Floyd on a double LP that was called 'A Nice Pair'. And that's the shit that I sat and listened to and played guitar to," he says proudly. "That's weird music, that's really weird chord sequences and melodies that sort of went nowhere. And, that coloured me a lot in my vision of this is how you write a pop song. Of course, I knew more conventional writing as well. But I figured that this resonates with me, and I want to write more like that."

Tobias is the first to admit that the influence his musical exposure has had on him isn't the most straightforward. "For all the years that I was in bands, up until Ghost, basically when I was in bands not doing well, I got a lot of, I wouldn't say stick, but it was always like, 'You write weird songs, there's something weird about them, and it will never really become anything because it has that sort of weirdness to it".

As he grew, the songs he'd heard reflected this inherent strangeness he'd constructed. Before the days of mass formulaic pop factories, the music emanating from the radio abided by the strictest rule of needing to at least be approachable, but within these confines, artists of the 70s and 80s would push the envelope as far as they could. Citing Nik Kershaw's 'The Riddle' as one example, "Holy shit, if you would have taken that song and taken it to a chord structure masterclass amongst pop writers now who want to write songs for Miley Cyrus or The Weeknd or any of that sort of level they would say, no, no, no, no, that this will never work. It's too strange. It's too weird. You can't do that; it doesn't have the normal chord progression.

"There are a lot of songs from the 80s that are like that," he reckons, "compared to the now, more informative way of writing, the 80s was braver actually, and it worked well. And those songs are evergreens in a way that a lot of the top radio shit from seven years ago is forgotten, and that's the stuff that I grew up with when I started playing the guitar."

Having made that inner sanctum, he would enter kindergarten a reality, one where he can explore those recesses of his mind shaken by the musical earthquakes he experienced; now, he's matured and deeply entrenched in the reality. "Throughout the modern day of pop writing, I know a few professional pop songwriters, and we continue having these conversations because in pop," he says, "where some of them work prolifically on really high releases, they're like, it's strange how the business wants everything to be so informative. Everybody wants a weird song, but still, all the big songs are usually very, very formatted [and] very, very simple."

While unpacking the songs he'd heard back in the 80s offered Tobias a chance to comprehend what makes a good song, it, more importantly, helped him to set out doing it on his own. When digging into crafting a new Ghost number, Tobias explains that "each new song is a little bit like virgin territory with its own riddle to be solved, and is always a combination of the horror of maybe not solving the puzzle, with the thrill when you do. And it's never easy because each new song needs something new. And so you constantly need to feed your ability with knowledge about how other things are."

Breaking it down into a figurative example, he likens it to being like a detective. "I'm assuming that part of being a great detective is to constantly have an open mind, but also constantly learning about human behaviour and wha people do. If you just had 100 forensic classes, but you know nothing about people and how they live their lives, it's gonna be hard to solve crimes." The same rings true for writers who have to read to improve and further understand language, while comedians pull from real-life experiences - music is no different. Tobias's early days of stripping down songs to their basic parts and then rebuilding them have remained a constant endeavour. "But that's how you write songs as well; you go and absorb new things."

The covers process, as mentioned, is a release for Tobias. When things are stuck when trying to piece together a new chapter for the Ghost bible, a cover offers up a chance for something lighter. "Working on covers can be equally euphoric," he confirms, "because it's fun to understand a song whereas, on the other hand, it can be almost demoralising because you're like, I can't believe that this song is so much better than anything that I've written! And it's so much easier. It's so simple."

"I find myself overcomplicating things often, but you might not hear the complicated detour that I took to end up at the more understandable, straighter version that ended up being the actual recording," he continues. "That's a never-ending struggle because that's how it's supposed to be. It's not like you write the one song. I don't think I know anyone or know of anyone who's content with the idea of having written one huge song. And then you know, okay, that's nirvana for you. You don't write the one song the same way that if you're a comedian, it's not like, 'Oh, I just told the funniest joke. So now I'm done".

While Tobias is one for wanting to keep the ball rolling and on a constant endeavour to continue his musical evolution, he knows there's a limit. Every release of Ghost must have a purpose. Nodding to the 60s method of firing singles out on all fronts, eventually compiling them for a full-length release, Tobias acknowledges his relationship with his fans is based on a more long-term understanding. "That's not how we do things; we make an album, and off of that album, there are singles - it's a 70s/80s thinking. And I don't want to refrain from that - I don't want too many singles to be these autonomous little creatures."

But the world is different now. It's a Wild West where being in the masses' consciousness is key, so things may have to change for him. Admitting that right now, he knows he's post-release of Ghost's last canon entry, 'Impera', which arrived back in 2022, and while 'Phantomime' is a reasonable enough bridge, sooner or later, he's going to have to play the game of ensuring Ghost ramp up. Earlier this year, Ghost collaborated with Def Leppard's Joe Elliott on a re-release of 'Impera' cut 'Spillways' which, while a fantastic addition to their arsenal, adds to the same notion Tobias is fearful of. "I'm slowly preparing for making a new record that's going to come out in 2024, which is way too long for the current contemporary music climate; you need to be ever-present," the last phrase hanging in the air ominously.

That doesn't mean he has to lower his standards, however. No Ghost release will exist just for content's sake. Everything must have its place. He even reckons a 14-track album is "a lot of music", and he still sees an album as being "22 minutes of music per side" - true to form, currently, no standard issue of any Ghost album breaches 12 tracks. He's even ready to aim for the likes of The Rolling Stones and The Beatles by swiftly lobbing a couple of spicy takes out. "Look, man, I don't even think that 'Exile on Main Street' is that good. Not even the fucking White album is that great - break it up! Both of those records would have been better if they were trimmed down to singular records."

That pop mind breaking through; Tobias is someone who knows that music is entertainment. Certainly, a medium which often leads to more bulky connotations, but it must entertain. It's why he doesn't pay any mind to those naysayers that yearn for Ghost to be more metal or to follow a different path. This is Tobias's game; we're just privy to the sermon. These days the floodgates are open and, when compared to previous decades, as Tobias remembers it, "you had to buy your own records. Whatever additional music you got, that wasn't maybe heard on the TV or the radio, when you took something from someone else, was usually a choice, so music styles could in some way be a little bit more insular back then just because you weren't subjected to as much." He mentions his beloved death metal as being a signifier of the changes happening. "Back in the day, when I was starting listening to extreme metal, that was completely embraced by a certain little subculture or group of mostly teenagers and 20-somethings. Whereas in the 2000s, when Vice started doing black metal reporting, all of a sudden you have indie personalities who were fans of Darkthrone, and so, obviously, what ended up that turned into this fusion, which was a positive and very natural thing."

This cultural shift is another reason Ghost's space is widening and its success growing. "Nowadays, people are a little bit more open," he admits. But, with this comes issues. "As time has progressed, metal and hard rock, as well as most genres that have been around for a while, [they've] gone from this youth culture to a conservative institution because so many of the fans are now aged." The passage of time waits for no one. But, more presciently for culture, it also means our understanding of what is 'good' and what should be where is moulded differently to when we were younger. "Unfortunately, that happens to most people regardless of who you were when you were 20," Tobias reckons, "or your ideals when you're like 40/50/60 years old. Your brain starts morphing into a slightly more conservative, slightly more nostalgic... You don't want things to change."

Tobias is the first to hold his hands up and admit the same has happened to him. He yearns for 1984 and even 1990-94. He would even be happy with 1987, back to those days with the crackling radio and a childlike spirit. "That would be so much cooler. I loved that way more than in this day and age. But I can't sit around and mope about that because it's not a problem that it's not 1987."

'Phantomime' is proof nostalgia can be a useful tool. It fuels with passion, and Ghost is Tobias's Neverland. "There's such a debate about what we are and why that is." Ghost are a band that, thanks to Tobias's musical education, transcend time. They exist on their own plain and with the evergreen, timeless sounds of yesteryear echoing around Tobias's head, long may Papa reign with his gloved melodic iron fist.

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview #really good one 👍

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mrsarnasdelicious · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 8

Eric Northman - Begging

Randomised Character/Person - Prompt from this list

Eric's tongue runs along your neck. He groans, pressing closer against you. His fangs scrape lightly over your skin and you shudder. He does not break your skin, not yet. He will not do so without your permission.

You know he is needy, but you want to put his resolve to the test.

He nips at your earlobe, careful not to use his fangs. You moan loudly in response. "Gods." He swears under his breath. He sucks at the spot just below your ear. "Please." He whispers, before running his tongue along the shell of your ear. You moan again, clawing at his shirt.

"Pl-please what." You manage, your knees made of jelly.

Eric swiftly brings you to the sofa, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. "Please let me taste you." He hisses, his fangs running along your skin once more. "I need your blood so bad, please, baby, please." He asks around a thick moan. His Swedish accent makes his words somehow even more sensual. "Please." He repeats the word like it is a chant.

He kisses up your neck again, rocking his pelvis up at yours. "Please baby, please." He hisses, his fangs scraping over your skin with a little more insistence. "I am so thirsty for you." He growls. "I need your blood, please." His voice becomes a whine on the last plea.

"Just a little, then." You cooe. "Oh fuck, that you baby." Eric groans, licking a little more at your neck before sinking his fangs in. You moan softly and he grunts in a sated way. He takes a slow draft of your blood and rocks his crotch more firmly against yours. "I want to fuck you." He growls.

"Beg me for it." You purr, pulling him away from your neck.

#eric northman #eric northman x reader #true blood #alexander skarsgard #smut under the cut - ish

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valiantroeagleangel · 2 months

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Random Jolly thought

Mid NSFW

jolly is the type to ravish your lips and ask you while he do so, "are you going to behave like a good girl?", before caging you against the wall.

his strong figure is hovering over you and your eyes glimpse at him through your lashes. one of his hands slides along your jaw while his thumb pushes on your lower lip.

patiently, he's waiting for you to answer and when you finally nod, he states as calmly as ever "then open up for me."

at these words, you obediently part your lips for him, letting his digit intrude your mouth.

"duktig flicka, Käraste." his Swedish escapes him as he praises you, completely lost in your deer eyes and you can't help but squirm when you recognize the "good girl" he let out.

his thumb is on your tongue and he presses it against the said muscle, coating his skin with your spit.

his voice might be enough to make you shiver, but the look he's giving you- oh god, his eyes are basically fucking you right on the spot and you feel your stomach turn upside down at the idea. you only wish for him to bend you over the table at the other side of the room.

the thought is making you sigh and your hot breath fan on his hand. his remaining fingers tighten around your jaw and chin, cupping the whole bottom of your face.

disturbed by your drooling mouth full of saliva, you try to swallow, your lips closing to his joint as you unconsciously suck on it. Jolly notices your struggle and moves his thumb from your tongue to your throat, pushing it as far as he can just to test your gag reflex.

by instinct, your mouth opens and you stick your tongue out to show him, letting him inspect the inside of your mouth as he runs his finger even further.

slowly, his eyes leave yours to peek at your spit-covered lips, admiring how swollen they look from his previous kisses. but as you try to swallow once again, his thumb is leaving you alone to land on your cheek and, gently, he dares to stroke it, his gaze meeting your teary one.

"you're always so soft Käraste, so good for me."

I had this thought for a while, it doesn't necessarily make sense but here it is. like all the other thoughts, I wrote that during my ten minutes bus ride and i'm concerned that I always need to write them down during that time.

Mama’s tag list: @circle-with-me @somewhere-diamond @malice-ov-mercy @smokeynaomi @darkhallcorner @loeytuan98 @sthnog @cookiesupplier @cncohshit @lma1986 @skulliecadaver-blog @talialovesmiw @to-be-written @4rtificialfolio

#i'm writing this instead of writing fics i'm sorry #jolly karlsson #joakim jolly karlsson #joakim karlsson #bad omens #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #random jolly thoughts #headcanons

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rizzyu · 10 months

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Hello there! :D If u dont mind, can i req platonic friendship hcs for luxiem? where gn!reader looks up to them as an older brother figure? +bonus points if they also have a chaotic personality >:D Have a great day~

Big-brother Figure HC

Pairing: Vox, Mysta, Luca, Ike, Shu x gn! reader

Category: Fluff, heehee haha funni

Warning: C h a o s .

Summary: Platonic relationship with the Luxiem members :D

A/N: Hi hi! That is such as cute idea! I can already imagine the chaos before even starting to write lol Anyways thank you for the request :D

Vox Akuma

He tries his very very very very very best not to bring in sussy conversations while you are around, since you're like his little-sibling figure

It's very fucking difficult for him to not straight up yell something like FORKIN- *** **** ***** ***, but he really R E A L L Y tries his best (c'mon you gotta give him some slack for trying this hard)

Even though you might already have learnt it from other Niji members (mr satan here might choke those specific members if he finds out)

But Vox also takes care of you very well

Like he'd go out of his way just to make sure you have the best meals every day

Overall, I think Vox would be a very caring but yet very protective big-brother figure

Mysta Rias

You'd be making fun of him A LOT (like real siblings lol) and also pick on him specifically

Like in every roast tier list, Mysta's in the "bullied" tier, and you're the living proof of that.

Say if you're playing Crab Game, you'd specifically throw a snowball at him out of nowhere, causing him (using his webcam mic that makes him sound like he's in the middle of a damn hurricane) to scream like he's stuck between the fabric of reality and the backrooms

Basically like this: "WHAAA WHA%#%@"#*@ WHO THE %##*@/× FUCK ^@!~# DID&×¤^#*!/£₩※THAT /£&&$)#(@#:"

Meanwhile you: "MUHYAHYAHYAHAYYAHAYAGHAGSSBABBA L L L L L L"

And if Mysta is cooking, just like Vox his Mysta's cooking stream, you'd scold him for cooking in such uhhhhh c u r s e d ways

“Mysta, for the love of Riku Tazumi, by “pour oil into the pan”, doesn’t mean to fill the entire pan with oil.”

Overall, chaotic sibling-like relationship with Mysta :)

Luca Kaneshiro

The most chaotic duo in NijiEN

You two would both pull pranks and say random deez nuts, ligma jokes to other members

Whenever you two take part in collabs (especially large ones), I can imagine you both causing so much mischief that everyone would be screaming your names while chasing you two who are laughing your butts off (I love his laugh it’s so goofy)

He’d teach you his ways of pogging

Say if you’re playing Minecraft, you two would probably place lava traps in front of the doors of every house, before hiding nearby to see the other members scream when they fall into the trap

Basically he’s gonna troll with you all the time :)

Ike Eveland

Just like Vox, very caring but very protective

He really enjoys reading you the novels he wrote and making you caviar toast. Even if you dislike caviar, he (tries) to not be too disappointed in you lol

Ike also like to teach you how to write novels and how to speak some Swedish words

And usually when you did well when he’s teaching you things, he’d give you a headpat :3

Usually if some other members say something a bit sussy, broski would look d e a d into their eyes while having both hands covering both of your ears, before politely telling you to go somewhere else for the meantime. Then he'd threaten whoever did that in front of you.

I like it when he goes psychopath mode. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Shu Yamino

You’d definitely greet each other with “eyyyyyyyyyyyyy” everytime you meet lol

If you’re a smart person, you’d probably be talking about maths or something in the middle of a game.

“There are two boxes blocking that so if we double it we can cover the whole thing.”

“Yea but there isn’t enough space to place 4 boxes there, maybe 3.46 boxes can work.”

“Seems like 3.48 would work better.”

“BUT IT’S JUST A 0.02 DIFFERENCE-” (made-up scenario lol)

The whole time chat would be spamming the nerd emoji 🤓🤓🤓

You, Shu and Petra would get along very well too, since Petra is like a sister figure to Shu

Happy penguin siblings :D

#riyugu writing #yorutenshi riyugu #nijisanjien #nijisanjien x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijisanji #nijisanji x reader #luxiem x reader fluff #vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #shu yamino x reader #shu yamino

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melanie-the-artful · 5 months

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Genshin Character Names' Meanings

Hello there! So, I remember I once saw a post about meanings of some characters' names in another fandom, and while some of those names probably were given to those characters just because they fit, some of them certainly were chosen for their meaning, and well, it was just interesting to read! And yeah, here I am, in today's series of "I have freaking nothing else to do" I brought you a list of meanings for Genshin characters' names (today only Travelers and Mondstadt).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aether | Comes from the highest air layer - where the gods live, and from the god who embodies it in Greek mythology; Also not sure whether it's connected, but fun fact: in Latin "Iter" means «Journey»

Lumine | Literally «Light» in Latin

Kong (Chinese Aether) | «Heavenly», «Air» or «Sky» - Chinese Name

Ying (Chinese Lumine) | Literally «Glimmer», «Twinkling» or «Light» in Chinese and a Chinese Name

Sora (Japanese Aether) | Literally «Sky» in Japanese and a Japanese Name

Hotaru (Japanese Lumine) | Literally «Firefly» in Japanese and a Japanese Name

Paimon | Comes from King Paimon, the 9th of Goetia Demons

Amber | Well, in her case it obviously references her eyes that carry that color, and it is also similar to the word «ember», which underlines her being a Pyro wielder; Also «Fierce» as an originally Arabic or Celtic Name

Kaeya | «Monsoon Flower» - Sanskrit Name

Lisa | «God's Promise» - German Name

Jean | «God is Gracious» - Originally French Name

Barbara | Although in our world it is believed to come from barbarians, in context of Genshin she might've been named so after Barbatos, the Archon rulling over her nation. It also makes sense considering how her father also serves at the church; Also «Foreign», «Strange» as an originally Greek Name

Diluc | Comes from «diluculum» - Latin for «Dawn»

Noelle | «Christmas» - Originally French Name

Klee | Literally «Clover» in German

Albedo | Term for the fraction of sunlight that is diffusely reflected by a body; also a Latinicized alchemical term meaning «Whiteness» and «Purification»

Sucrose | A chemical element, also known as C₁₂H₂₂O₁₁, or just sugar

Mona | «Solitary», «Adviser» or «Wish» - German Name

Fischl | Considering German grammatics, literally means «Little Fish»

Amy | «Beloved», «Dearly Loved» - German Name

Bennett | «Blessed» - Originally French and Latin Name

Rosaria | «Rosary» or «Wreath of Roses» - Derives from originally Latin Name Rosarius/Rosarium

Diona | «Goddess» or «From the Sacred Spring» - German Name

Eula | Could be based on the german word for owl Eule or the German Name Ulla which means «Will»

Mika | «Who is like God» - German Name

Venti | Sounds similar to the word «windy», also literally «Winds» in Italian

Barbatos | Comes from Duke Barbatos, the 8th of Goetia Demons

Crepus | Comes from «crepusculum» - Latin for «Dusk»

Seamus | «Supplanter» - Originally Irish Name

Frederica | «Peaceful Ruler» - German Name

Alice | «Noble» or «Exalted» - Originally German Name

Rhinedottir | Originally Rhine was a name for someone who lived by the Rhine river in German, yet the word itself originates from the word 'renos', which means «Flowing Water» or «Raging Flow»; meanwhile "dottir" is «Daughter» in Icelandic

Barbeloth | May derive from the Gnostic aeon Barbēlō, a supreme, androgynous entity in Gnosticism known as God's first thought, being his "feminine aspect" and the Mother-Father of the aeons

Nicole | «Victory of the People» - Originally French Name

Varka | Likely based on the Old Persian 𐎺𐎼𐎣 (varka), meaning «Wolf»

Decarabian | Comes from Marquis Decarabia, the 69th of Goetia Demons

Dvalin | Comes from a dwarf in Old Norse tales, meaning «The Dormant One» or «The One Slumbering» (akin to the Danish and Norwegian "dvale" and Swedish "dvala", meaning «Sleep, «Unconscious Condition» or «Hibernation»).

Durin | Overally associated with a dwarf named Durin, who is also from Norse tales, though some say it is of Latin origin and means «Firm», «Enduring»

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yeah, here it is! I know, I basically made a compilation of things you can find yourself in Google, buuuuuut in case you were too lazy or not curious enough to do so, I did so in your stead! And I have to admit that those are not names of my homeland, and I may not know all their variations or significance, yet I'm still interested, and I'll be happy if you're willling to correct me. And maybe I will even dig in deeper into the topic next time!

So, see you!

Edited: Yeah, I added a few more meaningful characters and Travelers' names on other languages + a few other tiny additions. I think now it seems a little more complete. Next up is Liyue!

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fleacollar999 · 4 months

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w-werewolf ideas? -pleading eyes- (but only if ur up for it)

Hello, friend, I am finally here with my treatise on Medieval Werewolves. So this is going to be more like a Brief History of Werewolves as I Can Remember It Off the Top of My Head, Over A Year Since I Read Most of These Sources, than maybe the list of werewolf fucking ideas you might have been looking for. I hope you will agree that this rich history of werewolf lore is a GOLDMINE when you view it with the monster fucking lens. Now, the story I've been working on only has incidental werewolf-fucking, it's not a Monster Fucking story, but I will do my best to help you.

WEREWOLVES ARE REALLY FUCKING OLD. The first recorded "beast-man" is in the Epic of Gilgamesh (~2100 BCE), where Enkidu is a "bull-man" that Gilgamesh helps to find his humanity. Not werewolf specific, per se, but monster fuckers have been around a while. The most famous early werewolf is Lycaon of Arcadia (I believe a date of around 400 BCE), a king who fed Zeus the flesh of his own son cause he thought it would be funny, I guess. Zeus turned Lycaon into a wolf, or wolf-man, and that's where the word Lycan comes from. This also establishes a connection of werewolves with cannibalism.

So now I am actually going to fast forward to the Middle Ages. There is a rich, rich history of werewolves in Europe, particularly in the Slavic and Baltic regions. In Renaissance Germany, werewolf trials were held alongside witch trials. The Malleus Maleficarum, written in 1486 and was like *the* handbook for witch hunting, contained passages on identifying and capturing werewolves. (I'm pretty sure. Like I said it's been a year since I read this stuff.) So what did medieval people believe about werewolves?

There were many ways to become a werewolf. You could have the bad luck to be born on Christmas Day or (interestingly) the night of a New Moon. If you drank water that collected in the pawprint of a werewolf, you too would be cursed. If you died and an animal jumped over your corpse? Werewolf. In Livonia, it was said that if you spoke a certain incantation over your drink, you would become a werewolf upon consuming it. There were also ways to be a werewolf were one had more agency in the transformation. A wolf-pelt belt (often called a "wolf-strap", which cracks me up for reasons we won't discuss here) could be used to transform yourself into a wolf. To become human again, all you had to do was remove the belt. Some people believed you could do the same with a wolf skin. There are stories where if a werewolf's clothes are stolen while they're in wolf form, they will remain that way-- you can read about one such story, as recorded by tumblr user @qqueenofhades here! In Elliott O'Donnell's 1912 book simply titled Werewolves, there is a description of a ritual to summon some dark entity called "the Unknown" who could supposedly grant you powers of lycanthropy. Maybe don't do that. (This book also discusses other, non-European forms of Lycanthropy!)

There are ways for a non-lycan person to return a lycan to their human form; one can return their clothes to them, one can call them by their Christian name (sometimes 3 times, sometimes just once). There are accounts of a witness recognizing the werewolf due to some identifiable injury or something, and once they speak the werewolf's name he will turn back into a human.

Some ways to recognize if a person is a werewolf or not: do they have hair growing on their palms? If you cut them, is there hair growing inward from their skin? Are they just so, so hairy? In Swedish tradition, I believe, it was said that werewolves looked just like regular wolves except they had no tail-- so a werewolf would run on three legs, holding his fourth leg out behind him to look like a tail. Some werewolves still have human eyes when transformed.

A lot of the pop culture lore about werewolves comes from the 1941 The Wolf Man, which really brought the werewolf into modern times. You can check that out if you'd like, it's interesting stuff, but not in the scope of the research I've been doing.

OH MY GOD FLEA you just did a HUGE info dump on werewolves, this is not what I wanted. Yeah, I know, but you triggered my special interest gag-reflex.

But like.... Character A loves Character B and finds their clothes one night, takes them to wash, and a big hairy beast starts following Character A???

Character X gets attacked by a bad guy in the woods but a big ass wolf fends him off and gets a slice down his face. The next day Character Y has a nasty facial wound that seems somehow familiar??

The bond of being able to recognize your lover even when they're in animal form, even when you didn't know they could do that????

And I mean MY GOD just apply A/B/O shit to werewolves HELLO (that's what started this whole spiral for me).

I particularly like medieval monster fucking because the Middle Ages are just very interesting to me. There is a lot of political and religious stuff going on, a lot of culture clashing and forbidden fruit and what not. Remember how I said that there is a rich history of werewolves in the Slavic and Baltic regions? Those were the last areas of Europe to get converted to Christianity. And they resisted, HARD.

Livonia, the Baltic area where you could enchant your beer to make you a werewolf, has a famous account of a man on trial for being a werewolf. "Hell yeah I'm a werewolf," he said. "Me and my werewolf buddies go down to Hell three times a year to fight the Devil and his demons." If I recall correctly they weren't sure what to do with this guy because he *confessed* to being a werewolf and hadn't really done anything wrong. I believe there's another Livonian tale of an abandoned castle where all the werewolves gathered once a year. And something about werewolves breaking into your basement and drinking all your beer and stacking all the barrels up to the ceiling just to be little shits I guess?

Anyway, I think this is super interesting and I know this is not like "Medieval Werewolf Headcanons" but just get out your horny goggles and I am SURE you can find some good shit in this WAY TOO LONG POST.

Peace and LOve

#werewolves #guess I'm the medieval werewolf fucker now #nerd #they didn't even ask for this #I;m sorry

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